#ash x bramble

[pnmpkinkitty]

My beloved

#warrior cats #wc #erin hunter #erin hunter warriors #thunderclan #brambleclaw #bramblestar #bramblepaw #bramblekit #ashfur #ashpaw #ashkit #warriors #brambleash #ashbramble #bramble x ash #brambleclaw x ashfur #ashfur x brambleclaw #ash x bramble #ashfur x bramblestar #bramblestar x ashfur

[mischiefmanagers]

Eris Vanserra Fic Rec Library 🍁❤️‍🔥

these fics are a mix of Eris x reader, Eris x OC, and a few general Eris fics with no pairing. if you've never read an Eris fic before, I highly recommend starting with the first rec below (gust & flame) because that fic made me fall in love with him. enjoy ✨

🌼 personal favorite 🥀 angst 💞 fluff 🔥 smut

by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

gust & flame (series) 🥀💞🌼

by @theostrophywife

here in your arms. 💞

like you wanna be loved 💞

by @acourtofmenandthirst

The Fox & The Hound 💞

by @leafsandstarlight

Destiny's Battleground (series) 🥀💞🔥

In Spite of Our Differences (series) 🥀💞🔥🌼

Great Rite 🔥

The Prince of Blood

by @profound-imagination

Finding Home 💞

Rose Gardens

by @munsons-hellfire

Happiness in the Heart 🥀💞

by @sweetcarolina-24

Scorched Shadows

by @azrielbrainrot

Fire on Fire

Mind Over Matter 🥀

by @danikamariewrites

Rescue 💞🥀

Fake Sleeper 💞

Peace 💞

Seekers 💞🌼

Did You Just Say No?

Song of Death

Starfall Revelations 🥀💞

Guilt 🥀💞

Kisses 💞

by @redbleedingrose

Till the End of Time 💞🥀

Pretty? 🥀💞

by @b0xerdancer-writes

It Wasn't Supposed to Happen Like This 🥀💞

by @thisblogisaboutabook

Bad Idea, Right? 🥀🔥

by @azsazz

Cherries, Juniper, and Orange Slices 💞

Fire & Water 🥀🔥

by @honeybeefae

Cauldron Fated 💞🥀🔥🌼

Forgotten Ties 🥀

Valentine's Mini Fic 💞

A Court of Wings & Fire (series) 🥀

Past and Present 🥀💞

Coronation Day 💞

Potions 🔥🌼

by @we-were-beautiful

The Fox and the Hounds 💞

by @bubbles-for-all-of-us

My little flame 💞

Her 🌼

My tears ricochet 🥀

by @2thestars-andbeyond

The Fire That Burns Within (series) 💞🥀🔥

by @simkaswriting

What if…Eris had danced with y/n instead?

by @jeannineee

Daylight 🥀💞

Breeding 🔥

by @jdeclerc

a brother's intervention 🥀

by @azrielsdove

Playing With Fire 🥀🔥Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @cassiefromhell

Unexpected 💞🥀🔥Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @fieldofdaisiies

Late Again 🥀

Brother 🥀💞 no pairing

Falling 💞🌼

by @azrielsoulmate

Covered in you 💞

by @cupidojenphrodite

Morning After 🔥

by @acourtofwhatthefuck

Loose Lips 🥀🔥

by @thelov3lybookworm

Remember me? (series) 💞🥀 from Rhysand x Reader to Eris x Reader

Bloodshed 🥀💞

Not what I expected 🥀💞🌼

by @fineghkst

How Eris acts around his mate 💞

by @ladyescapism

fractured bonds 🥀

by @clairebear08

Woven 🥀

Use Me 🔥

by @historiaxvanserra

If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power 🥀🌼

I Am Not a Martyr, I'm a Problem

by @shadowdaddies

Autumn's Eden 💞

Bramble 💞

by @azrielslightintheshadows

Fake love. 🥀

by @crypticandmachiavellianaugustine

Sweet Nothings 💞🌼

by @readychilledwine

Death of Peace of Mind 🥀🔥🌼

Safe Haven 💞

Relief

Unconditional 💞

Leap 💞🌼

Kissed By Fire

Lapcat 🔥

Pack Mentality 💞

Tainted Love 🥀

by @throneofsmut

Bound In Flames (series) 🥀💞🔥

by @parkerslatte

Overlooked 🥀🌼

Warm Me Up 💞🔥

by @prythianpages

Like An Angel 💞

Cruel, Wicked Thing

by @saphirered

Frozen lake 🔥💞

by @thehighladywrites

Professor Eris 🥀💞🔥

by @thevanserrras

Breaking Point 🥀

Den of Foxes 🥀💞

Happy Equinox at Last 💞

Wake Up 🥀💞 Azriel x Reader x Eris

Petty 🥀💞

by @secret-third-thing

Never An Honest Word 🥀 no pairing

by @nocasdatsgay

From the Ashes, the Wildflowers Grow (series) 🥀💞🔥🌼

by @lucienforhighking

Hounds of Love 💞

Dancing 💞🔥

by @callmeblaire

when fire and ice dance

by @moonlightazriel

Symphonies 💞

When no one hears your calls 🥀💞

by @sellyoursoulforagoodfic

Monstrous Secrets 🥀💞

by @florencemtrash

Flame, Shadow, Beast 🥀💞 Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @serpentandlily

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny (series) 🌼

Last Solstice 🥀💞🌼

by @fever-fluff

Unconditional

by @yearning-for-autumn

Would That I

#eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra fic #eris acotar #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra x azriel #azris #eris x azriel #azriel x eris #azriel x reader #lucien vanserra #rhysand x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x oc #azriel x you #acotar #eris vanserra fic recs #eris angst #eris fic recs #eris vanserra smut #acotar fic recs #azriel #rhysand #vanserra brothers #eris vanserra angst #azriel x reader x eris #eris smut

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Hello, Mr. Monster (Five. Sidhe)

Summary: Eros and Psyche inspired Soulmate!AU, Morpheus x female OC/reader

Masterlist The Nightmare's Interlude

Chapter Tracks: "Milk and Honey" by Delain, "Lacrymosa" by Mozart

18+/TRIGGER WARNING: Kidnapping, involuntary drug use, involuntary body modification, cutting (not self-harm), vague threat of SA/brainwashing

A/N: I LIVE!!! Thank you all for your patience. The story is jumping into a new arc!

Don't miss the bonus interlude chapter I posted! Linked above.

5: Sidhe

“Be careful on the road.”

Aisling’s ears rang with Fay’s parting words.

The fairie always treated the end of the season with a little too much gravitas, but this time she looked at Aisling like she could physically see danger growing over her. Brambles breaking through the asphalt or boulders crushing the van.

“Know something I don’t?” she’d asked.

“I know you find trouble, and trouble finds you. I know the world is trying to settle back into an old order, and it’s the hour of chaos and hungry hands. I know you’re alone, and the road is dangerous.”

Now, many hours and miles away, the conversation replayed on an endless loop in her head.

It haunted her. From the moment the words dropped from Fay’s lips, they settled around Aisling’s neck like a loadstone. They became a tale still furled in a fiddlehead, a glimpse of wyrd lurking in the road ahead, and she’d run off without a real destination in mind. Never a great plan. Even less so with this warning tossed in her lap like a dead fish. It stank of prophecy, and the age-old fight-or-flight response kicked in. There was nothing to fight, so she fled the entire concept of fate, driving in a vaguely New York direction.

A little distance helped. It gave her space to breathe. To think.

The wind combed tangles into her hair and some of the fear from her thoughts.

When she spied a rest area with lots of trees and very few guests, she pulled off the highway.

She sat in the van, cross-legged on the floor with the windows and sliding door open, letting the breeze cleanse the space. Well. All but one window open. Plastic sheeting rustled over the window the Not Deer shattered. Someday she might have money to repair it properly, but it wasn’t a priority.

There was so much to work through.

She meditated, looking inside, listening for the tidal rumble of raw intuition. The cards danced between her hands as she relaxed against the border of the unknown, trusting instinct over logic until fold, after fold, after fold she knew she had the right order. A three-card read. Quick, efficient.

No time for nuance on the road.

She turned the first card and found the Ace of Cups in the past position. The very recent past, she would guess. It practically sang the Dream King’s name. The Ace of Cups celebrated creativity, awakenings, and new feelings – new loves.

Heat crawled up her neck as the reading conjured memories in her skin. The touch of his hands. His mouth. His voice. The ash of the stars he teased to explode still drifted across her mind, sparking new life in places she’d been sure it would never grow. It made her curious. It made her wonder what else he could do if she let him. It made her wonder what she could do to him.

Forcefully shaking off the goosebumps creeping down her arms, she refocused. She wasn’t asleep. And daydreams could be dangerous. There would be more than enough time to explore all that after dark.

The Moon marked her present. It had as many meanings as the moon had phases, most of them based on changeability and shifts in course. But only one – intuition – felt right. It looked back at her through the card, acknowledging her as she sat open to it, listening and feeling, like meeting her own eyes in a mirror.

Finally, her touch drifted to the future. Her breath stuttered. The eight of swords appeared in her hand, and she set it down quickly, fumbling, like it could bite her. If paper and ink could bite, it just might. The card of prisoners. It thrummed with warnings: imprisonment, helplessness, restriction, and malice. It jarred with the other two cards, unlinked from the common thread of her choices.

Fay was right.

Something was coming for her.

The breeze nudged the eight of swords, canting it off-center on her altar cloth. She imagined she could taste the threat in the air, fate cinching tight as she shadows of the future loomed over her rising hope.

Her palm settled over her chest, following a familiar pattern around an old ache.

It couldn’t be her monster. She refused to believe it. Not after his sweetness in the dark, not after his reassurances and promises. She simply didn’t want to imagine he’d snare her, strip away her agency as easily as he plucked away her anxieties.

That choice remained hers, and she chose hope for once. It’d been too long since she had anything to believe in but herself, and the whisper of that promise was addicting.

Caw Caw!

Jolted out of her spiraling thoughts, her eyes flicked from cards, to van, to the world outside, moving between the distant highway to the overhanging trees. Eventually, they fell on the feathered thing waiting right outside the open sliding door.

A bird that wasn’t a bird.

A dream.

Her eyelashes flickered over her vision as she tried to understand what she saw. Dreams were all gone from the waking. Her eyes never lied.

Hadn’t they all been called back?

It cocked its head, looking her right in the eye. She blinked, slowly, and it caught itself, looking to the side and pecking aimlessly at the barren parking lot, like it could fool her.

Something high in her chest fluttered. She couldn’t say if it was nerves or joy. But she didn’t recognize this dream.

“Who are you?”

It froze. Looked back at her. Spitting out a pebble it had valiantly pretended to be a bug, it croaked.

It was definitely new, at least to the waking world, and that made her intolerably curious.

“I can see you.” She let the words spin out slowly, amused and patient.

If it stayed, they were having a fucking conversation, and she didn’t imagine it came all the way from the Dreaming to play make-believe with cracked fragments of asphalt.

“Uh.” It cleared its throat. Not all dreams could speak, but the voice suited him, and she was glad they wouldn’t need to play charades to understand each other. Black feathers puffed up with half-raised wings as it hunted for the right thing to say. “I’m Matthew. Are you – are you okay?”

She glanced down at the cards, then back at the faux raven. Starting a new relationship with a lie felt wrong, but she couldn’t explain the intimate dread and trust she felt for the bird’s maker in that moment.

“Mostly. Maybe. I don’t know you. Are you… new? What are you doing here?”

She wasn’t accusing it of anything. Her worry for herself redirected into concern for the little creature risking her monster’s wrath. She didn’t want anyone getting hurt because of her. A trite desire, but a desperate need a fleet of childhood therapists hadn’t managed to shake.

The dream ducked, looking side-to-side for eavesdroppers, and hopped just a little closer. She leaned over her cards, closing the distance, humoring its covert antics. It must not be very familiar with the waking world if it thought strangers who saw a woman talking to a bird would see anything but a hippie on a bad trip.

With a flapping burst, he landed on the edge of the van’s floor.

“The boss sent me,” he said, still glancing around warily. “You know. Dream. Your… whatever the two of you are.”

A fair description, really. ‘Soulmates’ was too much. They weren’t exactly friends, and lovers sent uncomfortable heat rushing into her face.

Let the dream thing be confused. That made two of them.

“So, er, what’re you doing?” He twitched to study the cards with one beady eye, and she caught a glimpse of swords reflected in the convex mirror of his gaze.

She swept up the spread, folding it into a fresh shuffle, like she could tuck away the danger before it infected her new little friend.

“Reading.”

“Ever heard of books?”

Oh, so the little dream was actually a little shit? That worked. As a little shit herself, she approved of scamps on principle. Even if they insulted her talents.

“Not that kind of reading.”

The dream scoffed. “Those things really work?”

Funny, such cynicism coming from a talking bird. Seemed like bad manners to call him on it, though, so she shrugged. “Depends on what you’re trying to do with them.”

“Tell the future?”

All too well. “Sometimes.”

That caught him off balance, and he physically shifted from foot to foot, nails tapping on the floor as he found it again. She took pity on him.

“Why did your boss send you?”

“Just, you know, to keep an eye on things.”

She raised her eyebrows, easily folding the cards into new configurations without looking down, and the dream cleared his throat.

“Can’t really speak for the boss and all, but it’s a dangerous world out here, and he thinks too much about that. Sometimes. I’m guessing.”

The cards felt right, and she let them settle into a neat stack in one palm, waiting to be cut and dealt.

“Are you spying on me, Matthew?”

He croaked in naked offense. Or because she’d caught him out. “No.”

“Babysitting then.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way.”

Setting the deck on the altar cloth, she propped her chin on her fist. elbow balanced on her knee, and stared the bird down.

“I might.”

Sighing so hard his feathered shoulders rose and fell, the bird looked down, muttering things under his breath she pretended not to hear.

“Have you ever had your fortune read?”

His attention snapped back to her, picking up the opportunity for mutual distraction.

“No. Do dreams have fortunes?”

“I assume so.” Since he didn’t have fingers, she dealt for him. Another simple three-card spread. She didn’t have energy for much else after an evening of drinking, a night of wildly vivid dreams, and the shock of her own reading. “I don’t see why you wouldn’t.”

��But you’ve done this before. For things like me.”

“Oh, yes.” She thought of long nights at the festival when she’d been too young to drink, sitting in the dark with dreams and nightmares as they came up with their own fun. She remembered the first time she’d found The Lovers in Fin’s fortune and how she’d hounded him for weeks after. “Many times.”

Less than a day and their absence itched like a phantom limb. So stupid. Months apart without problem, and now she felt entitled to mope after a few hours.

She hoped they were okay.

She hoped she’d be okay.

Matthew puzzled over his three cards, his claws sinking into the loose weave along the edge of the altar cloth as he inched closer. She’d turned all three over in one fell swoop because she wasn’t in the mood for dramatics, and sometimes fortunes were easier to explain as a whole.

The dream’s, however, didn’t make much sense at all.

Death. Two of Swords. Three of Cups.

What the fuck.

He seemed particularly interested in the first card, and she began her usual spiel. “Death isn’t always death. It can mean and end to a phase, transformation…”

“Oh, it means death,” the raven interrupted. “For sure. I died, like really recently. Then I became -” He flapped his wings, sending the cards askew. “This.”

Until recently, Aisling thought she knew an awful lot about dreams and nightmares. She thought herself an expert. But she had no idea a dream could be anything before it was, well, a dream. And Morpheus had power over the dead? More news. Less welcome. The hair along the back of her neck pricked up, and she rushed on with the reading – something simple, something she could make sense of.

“Well…” She straightened the card. “This represents your past.”

The raven bobbed, a bird-like motion attempting to imitate a human nod. “So far so accurate.” He gently pecked the second card, pushing it even further out of line. He and his fortune defied order. “What does this one mean?”

She didn’t bother straightening it. The illusion of control wouldn’t last. “Two of Swords. Means you find balance in opposing forces. You have a tendency to repeat your mistakes.” Struggling to hold down a blooming smirk, she added, "And you're talkative."

“Talkative? Psh. Does that sound like me?”

“I don’t know.” It absolutely did sound like him. “But you do seem like the type to make the same mistakes.”

“Rude.”

“Blame the cards.”

He croaked, probably cursing her out in bird.

“Sure. So, what about this last one? My future, right?”

The Three of Cups. “Good luck and abundance. Kindness and pleasure. All the good things, usually after solving a problem. Have any problems, Matthew?”

“Plenty.” He shook his head and swayed between feet, warming to the subject.

Once upon a time, tarot readers served as talk therapists. She had a feeling Matthew would make her a historical reenactor.

“You wouldn’t believe what’s happened in the past few days.” The bird gossiped like an old crow. But that was good. No one told her anything, and this would be a nice change of pace, so she settled in to listen, happy to let the little dream spin her a yarn. “There was this woman – I guess that’s not too strange – but anyway, there was a ruby, and this man tried to change the world, but the boss stopped him, and we went to Hell before that. And I’d just met the boss, and that Constantine woman –”

Wait.

“Constantine?” She abandoned her relaxed position, leaning in to question the bird. “You’ve met Constantine?”

“You mean you’ve met her, too? Small world, right?” Matthew cleared his throat, cawing.

“She’s an old friend. She… warned me…”

Of course. That was how Johanna knew her monster was back on the scene. But she didn’t understand what her monster might want with the occultist. Was it her fault? Was it coincidence? Not that those happened very often, but a girl could hope.

“How did you meet Constantine?” Fuck. She should probably text her back, just to make sure she was still alive. “Is she alright?”

“Oh, she’s fine.” He croaked again. “Promise. Anyway…”

A redirection and a half right there.

“Are you not supposed to tell me?”

“Honestly?” He fluttered, spreading his wings like an open-armed shrug. “I have no idea. I’ve never done something like this before. I’ve only been a raven for, like, a week. I used to have rent, and a job, and fingers. If you’re looking for answers, I’m really not the bird to ask.”

Of course. Answers never came easily. She had to work for them, earn them like minimum wage – enough to keep her on the cusp of a breakdown without quitting entirely.

“I don’t suppose you could point me towards the right bird?”

“Can’t you just, you know, ask the boss?”

She glanced down, brushing a wrinkle out of the altar cloth where the dream and the breeze had disturbed it.

“I don’t know.”

Silence sat between them like a wriggling slug. Ugly, awkward. Neither wanted to touch it as it grew. She had a whole life to explain, and as a dream, he understood things she’d never grasp. Neither knew what to tell the other, or what might get the other in trouble with the elephant in the room.

The longer the silence grew, the more she wondered why her monster sent a minder. Maybe he’d foreseen the threat in her cards. Or maybe he wanted to slowly exert control over her waking life until he held perfect sway over her hours in any world. A bloodless war with an easy victory.

No. She physically shook the thought away.

No, she wouldn’t think that. Nope.

Maybe he was… concerned. She didn’t know if he felt fear, but if he did, he might have the usual long-distance relationship woes. Anything could happen when they weren’t together, and how would he even know until she failed to appear in a dream?

She liked that idea better, the myth of the anxious boyfriend who texted a little too often in an effort to feel closer across the borders he couldn’t erase, so she chose to believe it.

“Can you tell me about him?” she asked. “Your boss?”

“Listen, lady –”

“Aisling.”

“Right.” He softened, just a touch, and his empathy shone through their mutual frustration. “Aisling. I’m new new, if you catch my drift. I know about as much as you do.” Twitching to peer around the inside of her van, he strung together ideas until he had a mouthful of sentences to trade. “He’s a lot, but I’ve seen him be kind when he didn’t have to be. He’s scary powerful, but even when he wasn’t, he was proud. He’s a king, I guess. More than that, but that’s what I know.”

When he wasn’t powerful? She couldn’t imagine him as anything else. Fuck, did she want to ask, but she didn’t want to get the bird in trouble.

“I’ll try…” She swallowed around her misgivings. “Asking him sometime.”

“If it helps,” the dream bounced two steps closer, “I think he’d like that.”

She was out of things to pick at, and her smile fluttered awkwardly through her emotional kaleidoscope.

“You hungry? I’m starving.” Creeping around the bird and the spread cards, she escaped the van. “I need to wash up, and I’ll see if the vending machines are shit.”

“I never turn down junk food,” Matthew said, suddenly and deeply serious. “I miss human food. Rats aren’t bad – when you’re a raven – but I’d murder for a basket of fries.”

“Chips do?”

“You’re a saint.”

Patting her pocket to check for her wallet, she started the hike across the empty parking spaces towards the rest area. “And you have low standards, pheasant.”

“Raven!” he shouted after her, but she ignored him, hands in her pockets as she swaggered away.

The women’s was blissfully empty.

She had lots of time to splash cold water on her face and stare into the mirror. She let the water run, listening to the gathering echoes trickle and crash around the tiled space. Wasteful. She didn’t care.

She needed the noise, the wordless crush on her senses keeping her grounded as the warning, the reading, and the raven cycled through her thoughts.

And beneath all that, a girlish curiosity she struggled to accept.

Her monster played her well. She found herself wanting to fall asleep just so she could dream of him again, to see if he’d answer questions, if he’d touch her, if he’d let her touch him back.

But she didn’t quite trust it. Things only went well when they were about to go very, very badly, and until she knew which direction danger came from, she’d stay on guard. Hopeful or otherwise.

She drew her knuckle over her upper lip, thinking, and dry skin snagged. It wasn’t painful, but she couldn’t help comparing the texture to the palm she’d studied in the Dreaming, and an uncomfortable sense of her mortality prickled through her thoughts. Like the way people noticed their tongues and pooling saliva after someone pointed them out.

Something as simple as the weather damaged her. Air turned too humid or too arid made her flesh crack and peel.

She thought of the silken hands ghosting through her dreams, untouched by eons of labor, and her rough, human finger passed back over her mouth. How could she compare to an Endless? She made a poor match, and she knew it. Too weak. Too fragile. Too young, even. And age wouldn’t make her any worthier.

How could he stand to touch her when she’d crumble so easily?

She squeezed the edge of the sink, feeling too much of herself.

It wasn't fair to assume she knew his thoughts. It wasn't fair to assume he knew hers. But the ugly feeling to too many - varied - doubts curdled in her stomach, and she wondered if she'd ever have the strength to voice these kinds of insecurities.

A pity party would just make her more disgusted with herself, and she shoved away from the sink, pacing over the dirty tile, down the row of stalls and sinks.

She needed to calm down and get the raven a snack. No hysterics. No blubbering. She could contain herself, and everyone would be fine.

She looked up, face to face with her own reflection again.

Had that mirror always been there? Intuition prickled under her thoughts, drawing her attention to the details she’d failed to notice when she entered.

She counted the sinks. Seven. Seven sinks with matching mirrors and one long looking glass at the end of the line, tall and wide as a person, a surprisingly thoughtful investment in the utilitarian rest stop.

It wasn’t the strangest thing she’d seen, but she couldn’t recall the blur of motion her reflection should’ve made in her periphery when she marched in. Not the biggest thing. Nothing too alarming. Not even out of the ordinary really. But traps never were.

Fairy circles disappeared in tall grass and fallen leaves. Helpful goods and little treasures always appeared just where someone might’ve dropped them. The mirror was a little too clean compared to the others. Maybe it just didn't get splashed with soap and water from the sinks like the rest, but she wasn’t willing to risk it.

She didn’t like that mirror.

It rubbed her the wrong way, and she started moving towards the exit before she finished her thought.

One, two, three steps. Rubber soles squeaking on cement painted green as she moved towards her world of sunlight and dreams and rest stop vending machine snacks.

The long fluorescent light closest to the exit blinked. She stopped, and it went out. The next light buzzed, popped, and sparked as it died, and she took a step back.

She couldn't see anything approaching, but fuck if she didn't know her horror movies, and something was playing with her.

The third light winked out like a snuffed candle. Backing up, refusing to look away, just in case, she tried to stay out of the growing shadows. It was close to noon. Why did it feel so dark?

The fourth light. The fifth.

By the time the seventh flickered and died, she'd gone to the far end of the sinks, and as her hand pressed back against cool glass, she realized it wasn't a horror movie.

It was just another trap.

She made it all of one step away before long, wisened fingers coated in crumbling moss seized her upper arms and yanked.

The mirror dragged over her skin like mercury taffy, sticky with an aftertaste of poison. Shiny and wrong beyond her powers of description, it clung to her eyelashes and stuck to her skin as the hand in her hair dragged her through, away, and back – back - back into darkness. She struggled, writhing and shouting as her nails pried at the offending grip. But her fingers didn’t meet skin. Bark and lichen flaked off, crumbling over her cheeks as the gnarled spriggan hissed over her.

“Stay still, little prize. Wandering soulmate. Stay still!” It had a shrill, groaning voice. Wind shrieking in the creaking trees. Rot and new life in the same breath, rich with the age of soil. “Take you down. Take you back. Make you a pretty, pretty bride!”

Aisling did not stay still. She snarled, trying to escape through the light ahead, but the spriggan took her by the jaw and hauled her away into the crushing dark. It lunged headfirst into a tunnel too small to really fit them and chittered away, grinding its captive against the wall as it went.

Choking, trying to keep the fae from popping her head off her spine, she kicked along, catching breaths as she could. The spriggan’s many free hands pulled them along, and each handhold pulled earth loose from the sides. It fell in Aisling’s face, clogging her nose and eyes. Little beetles and worms fell, too.

Roots stinking of grave dirt caught in her hair, scratched her skin, but the grip on her neck locked her screams in her chest.

Her heart thundered.

Fingernails snapped as she tried protecting her face from the unforgiving path, still wrestling against the spriggan’s hold. Tears of shock and pain leaked out, mixing into mud over her cheeks. Her thoughts faded under the onslaught, melting into a tumble of sensation and abject horror.

They moved faster than they should. Magic warped the natural world and tugged them through adjoining planes. Aisling lost all track of up, down, or the way back to the mirror. The roots grew with their progress, and the spriggan cackled, so wildly pleased it didn’t notice how the fragile human in its grip struggled to breathe.

The world flipped, and she landed hard on a dirt floor, half-pinned under her kidnapper's bulk. Still holding her by the neck, the unseelie tugged her through a growing crowd of things with claws, wings, and half-grown faces, moving towards something she couldn't see. Black bars threatened the edges of her uncanny vision, and she grasped after her fading rage as her legs spasmed, tangling in the spriggan's trailing cloak. Terror choked her as much as the grip on her throat.

Oh, hell.

Matthew was still waiting for her to come back with a bag of chips.

Fuck.

Losing control, losing consciousness, she realized: she really was going to die this time.

Maybe that was better than whatever the unseelie planned, but she didn't want it. She wanted to struggle a little longer, find a way to steal a kiss from her masked monster, maybe. Sit in the sun. Let Constantine know the occultist hadn't lost another friend.

'You are killing our prize, spriggan."

Dropped, she crashed face-first into the dirt, coughing more than breathing as her ears rang. The whole scene felt a step removed, like she was wandering a dream or watching through fog. But that wasn't right. Magic bitter as wormwood coated her throat, and she curled into herself, feigning a fetal position as she reached for the long, iron nail hidden in the sole of her shoe. Her broken nails grated over the head, the blood leaving the metal slick as she tried to tug it free. Heavy feet approached - goblin guards ready to haul her off again.

She wouldn't roll over that easy.

The nail came free just as the bigger of the two guards reached for her, and she stabbed it in his hand. Green blood spattered over the dirt, and the beast howled in anguish. As it fell back, the other lunged, the nearby crowd taking notice.

Iron made friends of all fae. Even the natural enemies in the unseelie court. Like she'd shouted "Fire!" in a crowded theater, everyone had two reactions: run, or put it out.

Stabbing and waving her poisonous weapon, she whirled in a circle, looking for an escape, a passage, light, anything. But everywhere she glanced, she found more eyes and bared teeth.

They mobbed her. Many hands took her arm, grabbed her hair by the roots, and clambered onto her back. More and more joined the fray until they had her spread prone. A redcap took the nail with a long pair of silver tongs, nearly tearing the skin off one of her fingers to break her grip, and darted away, eager to separate weapon and wielder.

"Get its mouth open."

Clawed fingers pushed between her lips. They forced her jaw wide and slid filthy flesh, scales, and fur past her teeth, cutting into her gums, cheeks, tongue. Heat pricked in her eyes at the helpless pain as a tall unseelie with hair like moonlight over pond scum approached with a stoppered amber bottle.

Screaming, twisting, she tried again to save herself. Maybe, worlds away, the dream bird would hear. Or his master. Johanna, Fin, anyone. But the fae uncorked the bottle, and he poured it neatly into her open mouth.

"Let it swallow."

The hands all disappeared from her face, but they kept her anchored to the floor, prepared for another fit, another hidden weapon. She reflexively swallowed a mouthful of blood and potion to keep from choking, coughing desperately to clear the drops she'd aspirated.

Salt, iron, and elder berries.

“Gently now.” Taloned fingers massaged her throat, ensuring the draught went down. “Isn’t this better?”

She groaned through clenched teeth, pushing against the poisonous lethargy freezing her from the inside out, against the forbidding chill stripping away her agency but not her awareness. Inch by inch, she lost the war, and hand by hand the creatures restraining her let go.

The potion didn’t put her to sleep. She had no opportunity to escape into dreams. It only allowed breath and tears as she turned into a limp rag doll for the unseelie to manipulate like the hollow, powerless thing they believed all humans to be. They didn't need her to rest. They only needed her to be quiet.

Satisfied, the tall unseelie nodded to someone she couldn't turn her head to see. "Prepare it."

They carried her into more tunnels, broader than before, more than wide enough for them to march through without scraping the sides. A team of monsters handled her, murmuring ideas and instructions as they moved into a room echoing with running spring water.

Roots tangled overhead, and she watched them pass like waves, imagining they were the ones really moving as the unseelie court swallowed her up.

The terror swallowed her, too.

Trapped in her own body, she reached for disassociation as hooked claws and stone knives sawed through her clothes. Oblivion, however, floated out of reach as panic chained her to the bare stone they laid her over, left her drowning in every prod and poke as her handlers discussed how to improve on the fragile human flesh she hated a few minutes ago. She'd do anything to keep it.

They bared her to the frigid air, and she couldn't even shiver. Couldn't shout, or swear, or save herself.

The spring water was bright cold. Lights popped in her eyes as the first splash washed over her belly. Chill translated into pain, something too sharp to be liquid, even though she felt it rolling down her sides. Her captors cleaned her, scrubbing and muttering and pulling her hair as they combed it out. Her discomfort and fear simply didn't matter in a place where she had no voice. No choice. They tutted over her scars - a lifetime of chasing nightmares and living on the road patterned in bites, slices, and other imperfections.

"These are old," one unseelie muttered, tracing a fingertip rough as gravel along the Not Deer's old fang marks in her shoulder. "I can only smooth away fresh."

"Then make them fresh," another suggested. "Nothing else for it."

They took a knife to her, skinning her history by inches, peeling stories, tearing fascia, and baring muscle. The blade cut out the imperfections, erasing the glossy moon on her knee where she tripped on the playground as a child. It erased every line and mark loved ones would use to identify her body, leaving her naked and new in strange and terrible ways.

She watched them throw pieces of her into the corner. Hiding at the edge of the dim light, a spider the size of a small dog plucked them up like table scraps, jaws clicking just above the wet sound of the knife.

Butchered alive, her mind filled with static, rattling with captive screams and pleas. If she lived, she would not escape unscathed. This was killing something. This was changing her in ways that couldn't be undone, and she didn't want it. Someone had to make them stop before she couldn't recognize herself.

Warm blood soothed her goosebumps, and one of the voices sighed as her skin regrew.

"We'll have to wash it again."

More freezing water. More pain. She kept still as they worked, and her sanity squealed like glass under pressure. On the verge of shattering.

One began spreading a smooth, white cream up her arm, working it into the new skin. When the unseelie found Aisling watching, it smiled. "Ground pearls and unicorn horn, so you'll glow for the Dream King."

It explained like she'd be happy, like she wanted to be a pretty bride delivered in chains. If her stomach was still under her control, she would've thrown up.

Magical ingredients like anything off a unicorn would not come off in the next bath. More permanent changes worked into her flesh for her monster's sake. She would be more beautiful and less herself.

What she wouldn't give to spit in the unseelie's face. Or curse her monster's name. Anything. Instead, they worked the potion from head to toe, and the fuckers looked damned pleased with their results, assuming her gratitude as their rightful due.

Dozens of spiders crept from the corners, and the unseelie set to work on her hair and face as a thousand little legs tickled over her limp body. She wasn't wildly arachnophobic, but she'd jump and shout if a spider crawled up her arm. Now countless spiders wandered her naked body, and she couldn't shake them off. Instinct demanded she try, but she was as helpless under the spiders as she was under the knife. After a few moments of blind horror, she realized they were moving in patterns, leaving lines of silk they built into a gauze-lace dress over the next hour. She closed her eyes, desperate for even that much of an escape, and the unseelie painted her lids and lips to their satisfaction. Their concoctions smelled like roses and mercury.

When the spiders finished, the unseelie stepped back and sighed.

"Ready."

A troop of gnomes carrying some kind of box rushed in, and the unseelie handlers pulled back the box's front curtain, revealing something between an animal carrier and a royal litter.

"It's time to deliver you to the Dreaming, little bride."

They packed her inside, careful not to ruin their good work, and the curtain fell. She counted the walls. Seven. All the same soft white fabric shot through with silver threads. A pretty box for a pretty bride.

And her first hint of privacy. Alone, without unwanted hands, spider legs, and the sight of her own blood on the floor to distract her, her thoughts gathered behind the scrim of dread. She felt her heart beating in her chest, not just the hollow echo in her ribs. Her fingers tingled, begging to move, and one curled as the box rose, swaying on low shoulders down the labyrinthine tunnels of the unseelie court. It wasn't enough to save herself, but it was more than she had an hour ago.

She didn't witness the journey. She measured the time in twitching muscles and waking limbs, counting breaths instead of minutes. They moved between worlds, but all she cared about was the distance between her consciousness and any control over her hands. She wanted to pull open the curtained wall, and slowly, slowly she pushed her hand towards the edge of the screened box. A lifetime measured in millimeters. And just when her nails scratched the fabric, the box shifted, and she rolled back to her original position. Foiled by gravity. Of all damn things. A laugh brushed with madness fluttered around in her chest, caught like a bug in a net, and she wondered what kind of potion would give it life and get it out. She needed it exorcised. If she started laughing, she'd start crying, too.

The box must be enchanted, because she didn't hear anything outside it. The unseelie made lots of noise, and if they brought her to the Dreaming in any kind of official capacity, they'd have to announce themselves. She heard fuck all. She hadn't even heard the gnomes' feet marching towards her doom. Her soft prison kept her safe and stupid as they took her away.

When the front curtain pulled back, all she knew was she was somewhere else, somewhere with light and color, without the wormy, wet smell of the underground court. Two unseelie women reached inside, taking her wilting arms and guiding her to rise much more elegantly than she could've managed on her own. She was surprised her legs worked at all, but they must've timed this carefully.

She still wanted to bite them and run. But when she couldn't really keep on her feet without their support, that was impossible. She could watch. She could wait. She still didn't have a choice.

A weak little bride who couldn't fight back but didn't lounge like a slug in her cage - a lovely, tidy gift.

The unseelie with the pond scum hair swept up, taking her hand as the two attendants stepped back. She wanted to bite him most of all, and almost like he could sense her plans to draw blood - fuck the cost - he took her by the chin and faced her towards something much worse.

They stood at the foot of an impossible staircase in a room too grand for a ceiling. A cosmos moved overhead, catching the graceful statues along the columns between daylight and starlight. The steps curled through the air to the foot of a throne, a seat for a king, set above the receiving hall where lesser creatures stood and begged. Sunlight cut into dazzling colors through arcing stained glass windows backlit the monarch's place, on high. Beautiful. Breath-taking.

Yet it was the king's face that froze her heart.

She knew many things about Dream of the Endless. The King of Dreams and Nightmares. Lord Morpheus. Since she was a child, she'd been told he was cold and capricious, particularly with his lovers. That he was possessive and vengeful. If he was a good king to one he was an awful tyrant to someone else.

He was dangerous.

She knew he touched her gently and had a voice darker and deeper than the spaces between the stars, but she hadn't known until she stood a prisoner at his feet that she knew his face.

When she saw the beautiful entity trapped in the dead wizard's basement, she knew he was powerful. She freed him anyway. Her intuition led her to him, and she gave him exactly what he needed.

Her chest filled with lead. Heavy. Crushing. Pulling her down in the unseelie's grip. His hand tightened on her arm, and he refused to release her jaw, forcing her head back so the Dream King could see the fae's good work.

The Endless looked down on them all, starry eyes burning through her cobweb dress. Terrible and aloof.

Feeling drowned her reason, and she picked fragments of thought out of the swamp with shaking hands.

Why?

Why not show his face when she'd already seen it? It didn't make sense if he'd been honest with her. Was he that hungry for a little more power in their dynamic? Had he played a game, amusing himself with the dumb little mortal wyrd had already trapped in his name?

The unseelie, she realized, was speaking. He'd probably been talking since before they pulled her out of the gossamer prison.

"...one of our own. We've brought it - her - to atone for that one's error and ensured she is as fair and flawless as a mortal might be made. We cannot undo the sins of the first, but we have made a better gift of her in the end."

The creature made her humanity something fetid. She was not even as good as a dog, because her free will pushed her to snap back. But she'd been made fair, and what else could a mighty Endless desire from such a lowly thing, marked or not?

And Morpheus listened. He sat still as stone and let the fae hold her up for his inspection. She thought very carefully of every promise he'd ever made, and in this new light, she quickly found the gaps in his word.

She'd been such a fool to trust him.

A deep breath lifted her shoulders, the biggest voluntary motion she'd enjoyed since they drugged her, but she struggled to breathe. The air just wouldn't stick. Fuck. Fuck it hurt.

What an idiot.

What a romantic little idiot who had every warning and swallowed the poison anyway. It was written clearly on the label, but it looked right and it felt right so she ignored her mind and followed her gut, and look what that earned her. Belly pain and tears. They rolled hot and ugly down her face, creeping over the unseelie's hand, sinking into his skin.

He tutted. Releasing her arm, he reached into umber robes, confident in his hold on her face. Her jaw ached under the pressure.

"We understand you prefer... willing partners." The unseelie pulled out a white and purple flower for the king to see, and her blood ran cold.

She thought she'd been heartbroken before. She thought she'd been frightened. This was worse than anything she could've imagined, and she finally remembered to struggle. Sinking her nails into the creature's wrist, she tried to pull his hand off her face, but his hold was sturdier than the roots of a centuries old oak. Chances were, she'd drop the second he released her, but she'd rather eat pavement than be anywhere near the simple pansy flower.

"Love-in-idleness will woo her to your hand in a heartbeat."

It really would, too. A few drops of its nectar in her eyes, and she'd forget she was anything other than madly in love with the first face she saw. Her power to consent would evaporate as the spell took hold, and she'd be her monster's happy little fool for the rest of her life.

"No." Her voice joined the fight, and breathless as it sounded, it still carried through the chamber. Her monster must hear it, up on his throne, watching someone else manage the breaking of his new pet on his behalf.

She'd curse him with this. He'd hear her denial whenever he reached for her. She'd infect him with it, let it creep under his skin until he couldn't meet his own eyes in the mirror. Maybe. Hopefully. If he ever cared the way he said he did.

She chanted her refusals through grit teeth as the unseelie lifted the flower. As much as she wanted to hurt Morpheus, her fear drove her actions. She begged, pleaded, using every scrap of her meager strength to just get away.

"Stop. Don't. No." When did her voice become so small? "Please don't." Panicking, scrambling to escape the unseelie and his curse, she fixed her eyes on the blossom's purple streaks. Folklore said it used to be pure white until Cupid shot it with one of his arrows. She'd be the opposite. It would bleed her mind white, a placid death in life.

"Stop."

Her words. His voice.

The command froze the scene. Every unseelie. Every mote of dust hanging in multi-color sunbeams. The hand on her face went from oak to rock, and she trembled, fighting to breathe as she dared glancing away from the damned flower to the entity on the throne. Her lead heart forgot how to beat.

Dream of the Endless glared down, hands curled into fists. Had his eyes always been so bright? Fury burned like the sun, a cutting light sweeping across the gathering, wrathful and inescapable as the end of day, as the coming of dreams. They dazzled her through the scrim of tears, and she teetered on the cusp of hope.

The unseelie, after several long, painful moments, cleared his throat. "Lord?"

"Do you think it a challenge for me to find any sleeping mortal, mauled by your kind or whole?" His voice rumbled with the threat of an earthquake. Or a flood. Something old and deep that crushed civilizations without effort or consideration. A natural consequence of assuming control over something beyond even the idea of command. Ancient. Endless.

The unseelie hesitated.

She waited, too, frightened to trust again so quickly. She fought to breathe, to reason out what was happening. If he'd order that fucking plant burned in Hell, she'd feel a lot better.

"N-no, Lord Morpheus."

The Dream King rose, and every member of the unseelie delegation took a step back. Caught in the leader's grasp, she stumbled with them, clinging and whimpering as she tried to find strength to stand on her own and wrestle free.

"Did you think I'd rejoice to see one so intimately linked to my fate dragged to my throne against her will?"

The sun faded from behind the stained glass, and shadows curled out from between the columns like living things. They didn't obey the light, and they twisted hungrily on the verge of attack.

The unseelie's grip shifted. A sharp nail pressed into the side of her throat, and long fingers circled her neck. Rather than showcasing her to the side, the envoy swung her forward to block the king's ire. A literal human shield.

It was a bad idea to threaten a king in his own palace. Even discreetly.

"You are guests in my realm, and therefore protected by the laws." His eyes blazed, and a warning pulled his voice so low she could feel it in her spine, reverberating through the realm. "But if you do not release Aisling Hunt to my hospitality - safe and well - you will have harmed another guest, and your protection shall be revoked."

He didn't negotiate. He simply explained. And the unseelie holding her knew it.

"We had always intended to leave her in your care," he whined.

"Do you wish to leave my realm alive?"

The unseelie stuttered, and a cruel sliver of a smirk ghosted over the pale king's face.

"But if you'd rather stay - Well."

The unseelie considered, flexing his grip. He'd come on a mission, and it had gone poorly. The Dream King was not grateful, and now the fae had to decide if it was safer to keep his shield or flee. A moment's thought. And he shoved her forward, hard. She landed hard on her knees, yelping at the impact, and the unseelie moved out of the chamber in a rush of half-hearted apologies.

Murmurs and footsteps faded, a distant argument breaking out like a clap of thunder. She flinched, still on hands and knees, trapped in a spiral of breaths that wouldn't come fast enough and shaking limbs that couldn't fully support her.

The flower was gone. The unseelie were gone. But she wasn't alone. Wasn't safe. And the sticky spiderweb lace plucked on her nerves without keeping her warm, so she shuddered on the hard, stone floor and gasped as she stared down at her strangely pretty hands with their unicorn treatment, and -

She was not.

Not on the floor. Not on her knees.

With Morpheus.

He seized her, caught her up close with fingers that hooked into her shoulders like talons. The world seemed to quake, but maybe that was only the chest beneath her cheek and the arms around her back. She didn’t see him change shape or size, but his presence swelled, thick and biting like ozone as he pulled her so deep into his embrace she couldn’t see his splendid throne, or the retreating unseelie, or anything beyond him.

Was this better? Was this safe? She didn't know, she didn't know, she didn't trust him. Her ribs crowded her lungs, and her breathing fluttered, never drawing a full inhale or exhale, only pulling enough oxygen to keep her lightheaded, broken hearted, and awake.

"Sir?"

He dragged her deeper, long fingers gathering her by the handful to pull inside his shadows. At least, it felt that way. He might not break and bend her like the unseelie, but she had no doubt he could consume her, swallow her up until she blinked in the dark like a little star.

"Sir."

"What is it, Lucienne?" His rough, begrudging question flooded her senses, and her fingers spasmed where they dangled at her sides.

"Sir, she is not well."

She couldn't see the speaker, but they weren't wrong. Aisling felt very unwell. She hurt, and she ached, and she was worried something was irreparably broken, but she couldn't remember its name. She spun in eddies of failing thoughts, struggling to follow the basic conversation.

"I know." Sorrow, frustration, and darkness there.

But the stranger outside Morpheus's embrace remained undaunted, insistent. "Sir, she cannot breathe."

A cool hand cradled the side of her face, summoning her to meet his radiant eyes. A frightening place to be - in his hand, under his gaze - made worse by the fact she didn't know whether or not it was the perfect escape or some fresh hell.

His thumb rolled down the tear tracks, memorizing them by touch, teaching himself the shape of her pain. The face he denied her was very, very near, but she couldn't read it. Couldn't plumb the depths of whatever he tried to express.

"You must breathe."

It didn't sound like an order. He nearly whispered the three words, a private request for her ears alone. A plea. And she wanted to. She wanted to thank him for asking by filling her lungs, relaxing in his arms, and assuring him everything was fine. But she couldn't, and she didn't, and it wasn't. Another tear broke loose from the pools gathered over her lower lashes and rolled over his thumb, washing him in the agony he tried to explore.

"I have you now." He spoke like a song, the cadence pulling around her mind, soft and sweet as a lullaby, and she wondered if he was consciously trying to charm her. Any other time, she'd welcome it, but she couldn't find her courage, or her attraction. All she felt was small. Frightened. Vulnerable and nearly naked in the arms of a creature she didn't trust.

She couldn't decide to calm herself. Panic stopped being a choice several hours back, and as her body woke up, it demanded the reactions the unseelie potion refused it. Her shaking was her answer. She had nothing to give his searching eyes. Words were human and she stood there as a mess of fears and silent prayers tangled in a web of nerves.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to her third eye.

"Let me help you."

Tensing, expecting more magic or power to crush over her mind, she felt him brush her subconscious. He waited there, at the gates, and the part of her that understood him best accepted his hand. Guiding her from the frightful awareness of her own body, her monster sheltered her in a softer darkness, wrapping her in the blurred sensations of a peaceful rest.

Sleep.

She blinked, and slumped, and he gathered her up. As she faded, she saw him: the worlds beyond the face, and the smooth white skin of a being she was on the verge of loving without understanding.

Fuck.

She was still a fool, and his arms seemed like the safest place in all the world.

A very good place to fall.

Asleep.

#morpheus x reader #sandman x oc #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x oc #fic: hello mr. monster #sandman fic

[bvckybanres]

going under - billy x reader

Part: 3/? (part one here, two here)

Warnings: cursing

The third time Billy sees her is later that night, back at Skull Rock. 

iii.

The third time Billy sees her is later that night, back at Skull Rock. 

He’d paced his driveway for a few minutes then jumped into the camaro and driven down the road before trekking through the woods and into the clearing, a trail of cigarette ash littering the trail behind him. 

He hadn’t cared about the mess he was making as he’d stomped his way past small trees and broken twigs. 

He’d finally made it to the rock when he realised he was starving. “Fucken, Neil,” he’d muttered, ignoring the way his stomach felt like it was twisting and turning in on itself as it tried to digest something that wasn’t there. 

He was drawing something in the dirt when she stumbled through the brambles, startling Billy into dropping his twig and taking up a fighting posture. He didn’t care who it was, Billy was ready to throw some punches of his own tonight. 

Why should he be the only one suffering?

But then he sees her, a bag hanging from one arm as she tries to push away some branches that were in her way, some of them flicking her in the face as she forces her way past. 

He doesn’t think she sees him at first, thinks that she’s here to meet someone that wasn’t her boyfriend, and Billy grins at the thought of ruining her night as much as his had been ruined. But then she glances up nervously, stopping once she was in the clearing and Billy has the strange feeling that she was there for him. 

“What are you doing here?” he glares at her anyway, taking a menacing step forward and feeling pleased when she takes one back, almost tripping over a rock. 

“I - uh,” she stutters over her words, eyes flicking around like a trapped animal. 

“What? Can’t speak? Are you stupid?” he sneers at her, taking another step towards her. This time she didn’t move away and Billy feels a little part of himself deflate. “What do you want?” he asks this time, feeling the fight drain out of him. There was nothing fun about kicking an already wounded animal, and Billy can’t help but think y/n looks a bit like a wounded doe right now.

“I saw you drive this way,” she tells him finally, nerves clear as day in her words. “I, uh,” she swallows visibly. “I hea-heard what happened,” she stumbles over the words as Billy’s glare once again intensifies.

“And what, thought you’d come and make fun of me for it? Think you can use this to make other people like you more, freak?” he tells her harshly, marching another few steps forwards. 

“No,” she says simply, finally glancing down at the bag she has in her arms and holds it out for him. “I thought you might be hungry. I brought you some food.” 

She speaks the last part so softly, so gently that had Billy been even one step away it would have been lost in the wind. 

Billy has no idea what to say and feels only marginally embarrassed when his stomach lets out a loud grumble. “I don’t need your fucking pity, or your charity,” he tells her, turning his back to her and effectively dismissing her. 

“It’s not.” she tells him. “Pity or charity,” she clarifies when he doesn’t turn back around or respond. “I-I made dinner for me and Travis. He-he didn’t come home, and now I have too much. He doesn’t like leftovers,” she rambles, taking a few steps towards Billy again and once again offering the bag of food to him. “And I don’t like eating alone.”

“Fine,” he mutters after a moment, reaching out and taking the bag from her outstretched hand, feeling a little less ‘the-world-is-out-to-get-me’ when he notices the small smile on Y/n’s face. 

Billy walks over to the base of Skull Rock and plops himself down on the floor. He shoots one single glance towards y/n and she follows him, mimicking his movements as she sits down across from him. 

He starts pulling out a few tupperware containers filled with an assortment of food while y/n unwraps some utensils for them to eat with. 

There’s soup and rice and what looks like some roast chicken and Billy feels his mouth start to water. The more he stares at the food, the hungrier he starts to get. 

Y/n divides the food up, offering Billy almost double the portion she keeps for herself. Billy doesn’t argue with her. He figures she’s old enough to decide what she eats and how much on her own. 

They eat in silence. 

Billy loves it. 

He hates when people talk too much without saying anything important. Especially when they try to drag him into conversations. 

It doesn't take them very long to finish the food and though Billy will never admit it, this was probably one of the best meals he’s ever had - the food was good and no one spoke to him. 

Y/n puts everything away again when they’re done and they sit there in silence, both of them lost in their own little worlds. 

Billy pulls out a cigarette, scowling when y/n makes a face at him. “What?” he rolls his eyes. 

“That’s not good for you,” she tells him. 

“There’s a lot of things in this world that aren’t good for you, sweetheart,” Billy huffs a plume of smoke into her face. 

Y/n coughs and waves a hand in front of her face, suddenly looking fearful. “No, no. I can’t smell like smoke,” she shakes her head and scoots back on the ground, moving away from Billy. He wasn’t sure he was meant to hear that. Wasn’t even sure he knew what it meant now that he’d heard it.  

He frowns a little, pulling the smoke out of his mouth and putting it out on the ground beside him. He was feeling a lot more relaxed with a full stomach. “What’s that ‘sposed to mean?” he asks her. 

“Nothing. I just - I just don’t like cigarettes,” she shrugs, but Billy can see how wide her eyes have gotten and he knows she’s lying. 

He doesn’t ask her why though. Choosing to pretend he doesn’t care, even as his insides burn to know why this girl who’d fed him and kept him company without knowing a thing about him, was suddenly terrified. 

“Fine,” he shrugs, pushing himself up and off the ground until he is standing. “I’m going home. Do you need a ride?” he offers her, thinking she’s driven herself and will turn him down. 

“No, I’ll be fine. It’s not that far to walk.”

“Walk?” Billy balks at the word. “You didn’t drive?”

“I don’t have a car,” she shrugs, dusting herself off before turning towards the trees. “Thanks for thé company,” she sends him a small smile as though he’s the one who’s done her the favour. 

“You’re not walking home this late at night,” he scoffs, striding towards her in a few long bounding steps. “Cmon,” he grabs her hand and pulls her along with him, ignoring her protests. 

Billy eventually manages to force her into the passenger seat of his Camaro before running round and starting the engine. “Seatbelt,” he tells her, not looking over at her as he pulls out and onto the street. She’s quiet beside him for the whole ride, but Billy can see how anxious she is from the corner of his eye. The way she’s sitting with her back ramrod straight and eyes flicking around the road as though she’s waiting for something to jump out at them. 

Billy tries to drive slowly, thinking maybe that’s what was giving her the spiraling anxiety, but even with the Camaro going below the speed limit she looks uptight, so he ups his speed back to ten above normal and taps his fingers along to the music, ignoring the girl beside him.  

It takes them less than three songs before Billy is pulling back into their street, and parking the car in his driveway. He feels his own anxiety return at the thought of running into Neil again. 

It’s silent in the car for a few seconds before he sighs and looks over at y/n. “Usually this is when people say thanks and get out,” he says a bit rougher than he’d intended. All he wanted to do right now was go inside and straight to bed. 

But then he sees the look on her face and frowns. She’s staring out the car window, eyes still very round and hands clutching tightly onto the leather seat with absolutely no colour in her face. Billy doesn’t say anything, waiting for y/n to make the first move. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” she curses quietly, her breathing getting shallower. 

“Hey,” Billy snaps his fingers impatiently in front of her face. “You getting out or what?”

She turns to look at him, as though she’d forgotten he was even there. “I - um, I have to go. Thanks. Sorry,” she rushes out of the car and hurries across the road. Billy watches her go, gaze zeroing in on the nervous way she was clenching and unclenching her hands as she walked. 

He shifts his gaze to the house, watching as the prochlight turns on and lights up the car in the driveway that hadn’t been there when he’d left. 

-----

Let me know what you think! 

Tags: @extra-3motions @what-the-heckin-heck @stuttermaple @gloryekaterina @killuarue @orangechickenpillow @leilaniovo @whiskeypowder @cutesy-creep @variety-fangirl @starryeyedkoko @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @syd0428 @cheyennerosec   @lem0ns77 @builtlikeabagofchipz @angelbbygrl 

#billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy imagine #billy stranger things #billy x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargove #st #stranger things #stranger things imagine

[wc-confessions]

i hate tiger x dove more than any other ship. not even bramble x squilf or ash x squilf make my blood boil as much as this horrible shoehorned wreck. (keep this with a tiny grain of salt bc everyone knows thistle x spotted shouldnt even be considered a ship its so bad)

.

#text #anonymous #warrior cats #confession

[bonefall]

I was thinking about squirrelflight and brambleclaw and I realized that bramble is way older than squilf is.

like if I remember correctly, she's about almost half his age and ashfur is just about the same age as bramble, if not a bit older. I thought that was crazy.

then I realized, the only cat in that drama group to date close to their own age, was leafpool.

I mean crow and leaf were apprenticed almost around the same time.

honestly the more I think on it, there's a crazy amount of relationships with huge age gaps and questionable starts.

ps:

what are your feelings on brackenfern and will you be changing that in your rewrite?

To be fair, Bramble and Ash's gaps with Squilf are a bit iffy, but one of the 'better' ones. The cats do mature faster than humans, and the gap is something like 1 and a half years.

It's one of those things in Warriors that's odd, because it's the boundary between the way the Erins write the cats as real housecats with similar growth rates, but also as small furry humans. I can mitigate it but not eliminate it

So, I have a hard cutoff at 4 years of gap. This has less to do with the raw age, and a lot more to do with how 4 - 5 years is when a cat is considered a senior warrior in clan culture. By this point, they should have an apprentice, they've probably completed secondary training (Dustpelt for example learned construction), and there's plenty of other cats in their "generation" to choose from.

So basically, an age gap is bad to me because of the power imbalance. Power imbalances are the thing my eye searches for.

So what REALLY bothers me is that on the Journey, Bramble and Squilf are constantly arguing and fighting as Bramble belittles her based on her age and parentage. THAT'S what makes their gap stick out so badly, and it's why the Ashfur/Squirrelflight gap is so much less apparent despite Ashfur being older than Bramble.

Here's a couple fixes I've made so far,

Bramblestar x Squirrelflight

This is an abusive relationship on purpose. Squilf never gets back together with him after his treatment in OotS. That said, I have still made Squirrelflight older, reducing the gap to just a little over a year. She's born DURING the events of Firestar's Quest (Firestar's Quietus) because Sandstorm does not go with him. The ghost of Brokenstar does instead lmao

Ashfur is also younger now, as a minor fix.

Dustpelt x Ferncloud

Brindleface's kits have been broken up into two litters; the older with Ferncloud and Elderberry, and the younger with Ashfur. Dustpelt was too young to have an apprentice because of Graystripe's failure with Brackenpaw, instead, he is assigned to early secondary training as a reward for his loyalty in standing up to Tigerstar.

Ferncloud was given to Darkstripe as an apprentice, and Elderberry was given to Frostfur to encourage her to return to warrior duties. The gross way Dustpelt is interested in an apprentice is ripped out; instead she strongly admires him for standing up to Darkstripe constantly.

Brackenfur x Sorreltail

I don't mind this one much. Brackenfur never displays romantic interest in her when she is too young, and their gap is well below the 4 year cutoff... Bracken was also made a warrior quite young because of Graystripe's neglect, he had his full name by the time he was a year old (though he will be made slightly older to undo Bluestar's rule breaking, he'll still be a warrior before 1 year).

Sorreltail's training is delayed when she's hit by a car, but she's made a full warrior at the start of TNP. As a side note, Bonefall Sorreltail is epileptic from Darkstripe's poisoning as a kit.

#Bonefall Rewrite #Sorreltail #Brackenfur #Squirrelflight #Brambleclaw #Dustpelt #Ferncloud

[localsimp4moms]

The Tin Man (Preview)

Weather Report x Herbalist! Reader

A preview for part 1!

Water leaking on the ground as it spills itself over the lip of the wooden tub. Woollen fabric rubbed against itself in an attempt to remove the green staining from it, light slowly dimming as once bright blue skies became painted with pinks and gold.

The cooing sounds of birds accompany the sloshing of the dirty water, the day's excitements coming to a close. Young children making their way down cobbled paths, the echo of shoed feet and youthful giggles forces anyone to have a smile upon their face.

Perhaps it is time you call it a day too…

Peering up to the sky that slowly is lulling itself to sleep, you simply nod. Showing your gratitude for today's productivity. Slowly pulling the still stained fabric from the cold water, you raise it above your head. The added weight from residing water causes one to stumble at the slight shock. Though now began the process of  drying the fabric, folding it over on itself the irritating fabric working itself on your skin.

Pulling it taught, the sound of brubbleing of  releasing itself from its captor. The dirt path blow soaks itself, converting from a light brown, lightly dusted to one of deep colour, fresh, losing its slickly top coating of ash like substance.

Though the final moments of today's relaxation came to an abrupt end. Light feet smashing themselves down upon the narrow path to your small cottage. The smacking of leaves upon thick clothing, uneven breathing - panting. 

Then the sudden plea from the voice of a young boy- “Y-Y/N!”

The sudden call of your own name caused you to jump, though peering from behind the sheet one is met by a red faced child. Sweat running down his face as he hunches, desperate to gain a breath. A mess of brown curls obscuring his water filled eyes as he gags on his words.

“Hurt- H-he! Help! P… Please!” A gurgle of words escaping the young boy's mouth before he desperately reaches for your sleeves, pleading.

An expression of confusion contorted on your face as the child continues to pull at your sleeves. 

“Wait, slow down a moment child. Take a breath.” You speak crouching down, placing the white linen into the bucket, getting eye level with your new companion. A slight smile upon your face as you pat his head, an attempt to slow his hitched breaths.

It took a few moments before he had composed his breathing so he could formulate a full sentence and not just one of jittering words. “A-a man! He is hurt! You are the closest thing to a doctor! You have to help- he’s bleeding!”

It may have been a spear of moment thing, but you did not ask for more information about the injuries, simply telling the young boy to wait whilst you got a few necessities, generic things to treat cuts.

…

…

…

A pebble tumbles down the slope, kicking up dirt and leaves as it barrels down. Gasps for breath are the only sound throughout the woods baring the snapping twigs under a weighted body. 

“Keep going straight Y/N! He was just through there!” A small arm presented itself into your view as a concerned voice continued “Once you see him- I’ll- I’ll go back to the village! I’ll get- dad- Yeah dad! He will get the doctor!” 

Pushing past low rose brambles that tour at your feet, you are met with a clearing, a small empty space, the song of a bird still alive here despite only a few minutes of the day left. Looking, eyes darting to find this injured man, one is met with a strange blue object in the distance

Bright red crimson ran down his palm, the thick liquid glissoning in the fleeting light of the sun. The gash oozing more of the metallic smelling liquid as he forms a fist close to his lips.

Ice blue eyes lock with yours; something lacking in their depth. Almost inhuman.

----

I am still yet to proof read this! I just I want to get a lil preview out!

#jjba self insert #yandere jjba #jjba yandere #jojos #jojo bizarre adventure #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #jjba part six #jjba part 6 #jojos part 6 #weather report #jjba weather report #jojos weather report #yandere weather report #jjba au #jojos au #jojo x you #jojo x reader #jjba x reader

[transparenthologramrebel]

Thinking about leafpool x hawkfrost au I made up in my head at work and how interesting it could be.

Like hawkfrost kills mistyfoot on the way to lake and makes it look like an accident. He becomes deputy of riverclan and tigerstar encourages him to help brambleclaw get to be deputy as well. So since his sister is friends with leafpool he starts to befriend her as well just so he can like get insider info or whatever. However along the way they fall in love with each other. This causes a rift between squirrel and leaf tho cause squrriel doesn't trust hawkfrost. Leafs relationship with her sister remains strained for the rest of the tnp. When she receives the two cats intertwined prophecy she misinterprets it as meaning both her and hawkfrost. Which leads leafpool to lean on hawkfrost more. He entices her with his charisma and charming personality. Leafpool in turn gives him a shoulder to lean on and encourages his better tendencies. However tigerstar is still pulling hawkfrost down a dark path. Hawkfrost poisons lepoardstar killing her and then he becomes hawkstar. Around this time leaf realizes she's pregnant and when she goes to tell him she finds hawkstar with firestar who is caught in the fox trap. He tells her that this is the only way they can be together because with firestar dead brambleclaw would be leader and then the two brothers could merge the clans. Leafpool refuses and frees her father and tells hawkstar to leave and that they are done. Hawk leaves unable to hurt her. Firestar swears to not tell anybody about what happened as he wants to protect his daughter for the clans ire for her relationship. Leaf then turns to squirrel who ends with ashfur instead of bramble because of the lack of reassurance that she and bramble should be together. Squirrel happily takes in the three as normal, but lionblaze is a tiger clone. This leads to gossip in thunderclan that the litter actually belongs to bramble and not ash. While this is happening and the kits are growing up hawk is still working to take over the clans. He poisons windclans rabbits leading to a food shortage/ starvation as they no longer have their main food source. Hawk then forces them to join with river clan in order to save them. The clans merge into a single clan much to thunder and shadows worry. Then the fire scene happens but instead it's brambleclaw demanding to know if the rumors are true and if the three are his. Squirrel confesses to the secret and the three work to find out who their parents are. Once they find out that hawk and leaf are their parents they meet with hawk and tell him the truth. Lion goes to live with him while holly and Jay stay back. Moth gets in contact with Jay and tells him that hawk killed leopardstar and she hasn't been able to tell anybody because of the leverage he has in the clan and because she doesn't believe in starclan and that he wants to take over all the clans. Jay and holly become determined to stop him. Meanwhile life in hawk clan gets bad as hawk forces his clan to worship and work with the dark forest. Lion blaze goes back to thunderclan and the siblings team up. Hawk puts together a gathering demanding that shadow and thunder join him or die. That's when holly spills the beans about their birth breaking down hawks clan mates trust and loyalty to him. Moth then steps forward and reveals the truth about lepoardstars death. Hawks clan starts to fall apart and he snaps and kills moth before saying that the cats either join with him or perish. This leads to a battle between the clans and hawkstar and his remaining loyalists and the dark forest. The clans defeat hawkstar and the three make peace with their heritage stuff. So yeah there's more kinks I wanna work out to this like whether or no bramble is evil and what not. But a fun au I might write this after I'm done with shattered stars and consequences of the stars.

#warriors #warriors ashfur #warrior au #warriors books #jayfeather #lionblaze #brambleclaw #hollyleaf #warriors squirrelflight #squrrielflight #hawkfrost #leafpool

[video-game-kids-tournament]

Alright, so it's come to my attention that we're one contestant short for when the preliminaries finish!

Submit your blorbos y'all!! there's one spot left!!

Requiring one more submission

9-Volt from WarioWare: 2 votes

Alisaie Leveilleur from Final Fantasy XIV: 2 votes

Baby Zombie from Minecraft: 2 votes

Bowser Jr. from Mario: 2 votes

Charmy Bee from Sonic the Hedgehog: 2 votes

Chihiro Fujisaki from Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc: 2 votes

Chikorita (Your Partner) from Pokémon Super Mystery Dungeon: 2 votes

Cuphead from Cuphead: 2 votes

Futaba Sakura from Persona 5: 2 votes

Grimmchild from Hollow Knight: 2 votes

Katie Forester from Yo-Kai Watch: 2 votes

Kirby from Kirby: 2 votes

Jade Harley from Pesterchum: 2 votes

Jean from Fire Emblem Engage: 2 votes

Joker from Persona 5: 2 votes

Lancer from Deltarune: 2 votes

Lucas from Earthbound: 2 votes

Misfortune Ramirez Hernandez from Little Misfortune: 2 votes

Mono from Little Nightmares 2: 2 votes

Nanako Dojima from Persona 4: 2 votes

Olle from Bramble: The Mountain King: 2 votes

Skull Kid from The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask: 2 votes

Sonic the Hedgehog from Sonic the Hedgehog: 2 votes

Sunny from Omori: 2 votes

The Faceless Boy from INSIDE: 2 vote

Umbrella from Skullgirls: 2 votes

Youngster Joey from Pokémon Gold & Silver: 2 votes

Requiring two more submissions

Agent 3/Neo 3 from Splatoon 3: 1 vote

Akari from Pokemon Legends Arceus: 1 vote

Alex from Oxenfree: 1 vote

Alphinaud Leveilleur from Final Fantasy XIV: 1 vote

Alvin Jr. from Telltale's The Walking Dead: The Final Season: 1 vote

Amanda from Amanda the Adventurer: 1 vote

Arabella from Baldur’s Gate 3: 1 vote

Ari from Okage Shadow King: 1 vote

Ash Ketchum from Pokemon Red, Blue, and Yellow: 1 vote

Aya from Mad Father: 1 vote

Baby Peach from Mario Kart: 1 vote

Barbara Finch from What Remains of Edith Finch: 1 vote

BB-28 / Lou from Death Stranding: 1 vote

Billy Hatcher from Billy Hatcher and the Giant Egg: 1 vote

Bon Bonne from Mega Man Legends: 1 vote

Braith from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim: 1 vote

Buddy Armstrong from Lisa the Painful, Lisa the Joyful

Cassie from Five Nights at Freddy's: 1 vote

Clara from Honkai Star Rail: 1 vote

Classic Sonic from Sonic the Hedgehog: 1 vote

Clover Field from 999: Nine Hours Nine Persons Nine Doors: 1 vote

Commander Keen from Commander Keen: 1 vote

Cove Holden from Our Life: Beginning & Always: 1 vote

Cunoesse from Disco Elysium: 1 vote

Daniel Diaz from Life is Strange 2: 1 vote

Edea Lee from Bravely Default: 1 vote

Eleanor Lamb from Bioshock 2: 1 vote

Elodie from Long Live the Queen: 1 vote

Ellie from The Last of Us: 1 vote

Elsword from Elsword: 1 vote

Emma from Pokémon X + Y: 1 vote

Gladion from Pokemon Sun/Moon/Ultra Sun/Ultra Moon: 1 vote

GingerBrave from Cookie Run Ovenbreak: 1 vote

Hatchling from Outer Wilds: 1 vote

Heather Mason from Silent Hill 3: 1 vote

Hook from Honkai: Star Rail: 1 vote

Hortensia from Fire Emblem Engage: 1 vote

Hugo from OFF: 1 vote

Ida from Monument Valley: 1 vote

Inkling Girl/Boy from Splatoon: 1 vote

Iris Wilson from The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles: 1 vote

Jack Marston from Red Dead Redemption 2: 1 vote

Jane Penvellyn from Curse of Blackmoor Manor: 1 vote

Jo from Your Turn to Die: 1 vote

Jose from Persona 5 Royal: 1 vote

Juliana from Pokemon Scarlet/Violet: 1 vote

Karol Capel from Tales of Vesperia: 1 vote

Kel (Headspace) from Omori: 1 vote

Kieran from Pokemon Scarlet and Violet (DLC): 1 vote

Lev from The Last of Us: Part 2: 1 vote

Lili Zanotto from Psychonauts 2: 1 vote

Little Princess from Guardian Tales: 1 vote

Luka VanHorn from Beacon Pines: 1 vote

Madotsuki from Yume Nikki / Dream Diary: 1 vote

Marlene Wallace from Final Fantasy VII: 1 vote

Mary from Ib: 1 vote

Masked Kid from Underhero: 1 vote

Miles Edgeworth (baby) from Ace Attorney: 1 vote

Mission Vao from Knights of the Old Republic: 1 vote

Mizuki Oikura from AI: The Somnium Files: 1 vote

Monaca Towa from Danganronpa: Ultra Despair Girls: 1 vote

Mol from Baldur's Gate 3

Nanashi from Shin Megami Tensei IV Apocalypse: 1 vote

Nico Emery from Valkyria Chronicles 4: 1 vote

Nicole from Class of '09: 1 vote

Noelle Holiday from Deltarune: 1 vote

Nugget from Kindergarten: 1 vote

Pajama Sam from Pajama Sam: 1 vote

Paula from EarthBound: 1 vote

Peacock from Skullgirls: 1 vote

Pip from Limbus Company: 1

Red from Pokémon Red: 1 vote

Ricken from Fire Emblem Awakening: 1 vote

Sal Fisher from Sally Face: 1 vote

Sara from Your Turn to Die: 1 vote

Selene from Pokémon Ultra Sun + Moon: 1 vote

Serge from Chrono Cross: 1 vote

Shadow the Hedgehog from Sonic the Hedgehog: 1 vote

Shaun Mars from Heavy Rain: 1 vote

Sig from Puyo Puyo Fever 2

Skykids/Avatars from Sky: Children of the Light: 1 vote

Sunny Emmerich from Metal Gear Solid 4/Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance: 1 vote

Susie from Deltarune: 1 vote

Squares from Puyo Puyo Tetris 2: 1 vote

Tetra from The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker + The Legend of Zelda: The Phantom Hourglass: 1 vote

The Blitzball Kid from Final Fantasy X: 1 vote

The Child from Run 3: 1 vote

The Farmer’s Child(ren) from Stardew Valley: 1 vote

The Girl from Fear and Hunger: 1 vote

The Orphan of Kos from Bloodborne: 1 vote

The Young Wizard from Wizard101: 1 vote

Tiphereth A and B from Lobotomy Corporation: 1 vote

Tulin from The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom: 1 vote

Vella Tartine from Broken Age: 1 vote

Vertin from Reverse: 1999: 1 vote

Vincent from Stardew Valley: 1 vote

Xion from Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days: 1 vote

Yoshi from Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door: 1 vote

Yuu from The Cruel King and The Great Hero

Zagreus from Hades: 1 vote

#contestant info #video game kids tournament

[brokentranstar]

least favorite warriors ship(s)?

no pressure!!

Well, mainly obvious stuff, ships that are clearly a bad situation (Like Spotted x Fire, Bramble/Ash x Squirrel, Twigbranch x Finleap also Mosskit x Snowkit, those are 5 year old children you're shipping.) and so on...

Also I don't quite get the appeal of squirrel x crow, in fact all squirrel x character deter me, yes even stormfur, even shrewpaw

But my pretty unpopular? opinion is really not liking Fire x Gray, it makes me uncomfortable and upsets me, I understand why people might like it, of course.

But for me this ship is kind of icky? It really comes off like Fire would do anything for Graystripe, cuz Fire is kind hearted and kind of naive, but Graystripe wouldn't do ANYTHING for Fire, and that bothers me,

I was in friendships and I was in relationships similar to those two, those weren't good times.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk <33 /lh

#fireheart #firestar #firegray #Graystripe #ship discourse #warrior cats #Wisest Leaf Talk #ask

[hawkfrosting]

Drew hawkfrost idk why, here some hcs i have of him

Tw: blood, transphobia

He's an transman gay, his music theme is #BrooklynBloodPop! (Also i drew this listening to this song lol)

In the df, if he tries to take off the pin he bleeds and this black blood in the pic is just dried blood when he first came to the df and tried to take it off

His fav sibling was tadpole, he miss him a lot

Tigerstar hated him bc he's trans, so he prefered bramble but when bramble showed how loyal he was to firestar tiger had to learn to endura hawkfrost lol

Hawk x Ash was something

His ear scar was caused by Ivypool

He's aways grooming his fur

Even being a rc cat, he has a fear of drowning bc he almost drowned when he was younger, feathertail saved him so he has an respect for her

And idk what more k

#hawkfrost #warrior cats

[kota-corner]

Anyone else find both Bramble x Squirrel and Ash x Squirrel to be very toxic- not only because they both treat Squirrel very poorly, but they're both technically related to her(vomit noises)!!! I feel like the Erins could've avoided the inc*st ships by simply having more cats in each clan- even if they aren't fleshed out well, it's better than resorting to family members being shipped together. Personally I want to do my own AU/revision of the series once I'm done reading the current main books in all the series, and that's one thing I'm gonna change. No BrambleSquirrel or AshSquirrel.

#warrior cats #text post #💫kota text post💫 #squirrelflight #brambleclaw #ashfur #tw: incest #tw: proshipping #proship dni #anti proship #reblog

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Wednesday 19 September 1832

5 55

11 35

fine morning – F58 ½° at 6 ¼ - a little while looking into De la Beches’ geology – out at 7 ¼ - in the walk – Pickles and the man came about 7 25 – Dick doing the culvert between Charles H-‘s peafield and acre field – John P- at the channelling William Greenwood barrowing ashes and helping Pickles to finish off the calf croft near Pithill banking – Booth foolishly told Murgatroyd about the library passage window – he came to me about 9 – let him have it to do – to come with Booth – but said I had sent for another man – Wilson came almost immediately after Boothroyde went away – above ½ hour with him in the library and library passage planning – thinks £10 will do the job – suppose £20 breakfast in the little room with my father and Marian soon after 10 – then a little with my aunt – out again at 11 25 – no! Shaw the plasterer came – and had him upstairs and in the garden to see about the pointing to be done – he advises my running up a vent feather or middle-wall to part off the flue of the stove from that of the hall fireplace, or it will not answer – he is to come on Monday to meet Booth and Murgatroyd about the library passage window – a little while with my aunt – out at 12 ¼ - in the walk – Pickles gone – his wife poorly and had sent for him – Dick finished the culvert – William G- barrowing ashes till 4, then went with William Green to Pickersgills’ field at the top of the bank and filled 3 carts with soil which William Green brought down for the calf croft slope – to make a finish and brought this morning by 2 ½ (not off till 10) 2 loads of ashes from H-x – George Pickles brought the 2nd 20 sacks of moss – cleaning and training brambles near my rustic chair and and pruning Spanish [?] trees and 2 or 3 little oaks till after 6 – dinner at 7  5 – no paper tonight – sent John to tell Booth to come, and do the chimney – read ½ dozen pages Loudons’ encyclopaedia of gardening to p.29 – went into the little room at 9 35 – staid talking to Marian – came to my room at 10 ¾ - very fine day – F61° at 11 ¼ p.m.

[gyroshrike]

Sir, hey uh… you— you aren’t supposed to do that with your auspistice…😳 

I just really wanted to post a cleaned up version. [x] Fantroll belongs to @miraclechildask

#homestuck #gamzee makara #arsast aporia #miracle child #fantroll #gamzee x oc #canon x oc #my art #gamsast #the naughty auspistice #alternate caption is 'if it'll keep you from kissing sephar then just kiss me instead.' #LOOK MAN IDK I JUST WANT THEM TO KISS #BUT LIKE #IN A REALLY ASH WAY #if gamzee's busy kissing arsast #then he's too busy to be fighting with his other ashmate #double win #arsast knows gamzee is out of trouble and kissing him is nice #sorry to ping you again bramble #feel free to ignore #it just felt weird NOT crediting you

[bonefall]

Going just by TPB and TNP, out of Ashfur, and Brambleclaw, who would you have had picked if you were in Squirrelflight's place?

Also, did petty!Ashfur name Brindlekit after his mom?

And if it had turned out the 3 were Squirrelflight's and Ashfur's, how do you think that would have gone over?

Who would you pick?

Well... I sort of don't like the way the question is posed, you know? I've been in Squirrelflight's place before and I picked the Brambleclaw, not because it was a logical choice, but because I loved them. Because they made me feel needed and important in a time I felt aimless.

(Nevermind how much of that is caused by the abuser's attempts to shame and humiliate you. That's difficult to realize when you've taken the hook.)

She shouldn't have had to be with either one, but when she broke it off with Ashfur, it's easy to forget that Ashfur also started mistreating her. The wretchedness she felt was something she brought up with Leafpool, praying that she'd made the right 'choice.' That's when Leafpool shares her StarClan Shipping Dreams which makes Squilf feel better about it all.

But it shouldn't have to have been a choice!! And I think Ashfur suddenly cutting her off (and probably causing a schism in her friend group) contributed to Squilf feeling like she had to make a call here instead of realizing it's a false dichotomy.

I think Sweet Nothings/Petty Ashfur, with many years of experience and introspection, kinda realizes this and is horrified by it. He could have helped her, but in his spite, he made her life so much worse.

Anyway,

Brindlekit

Yep! She was named after his mom. He named Brindle and Squirrel, Hawkfrost named Frost, Reed named Ash.

The Three: Ashfur x Squirrelflight Edition

I think it's a neat thought, but when I really examine it, I don't see how very much would change. There really isn't much scandal in it. They were both full ThunderClan warriors who were dating, Bramble would have known Squilf was pregnant when they got together, so... the most this secret being revealed would do is make a mildly awkward gathering.

And canon Ashfur? I don't think it would really matter to him very much. The reason she was able to get him to NOT kill her kids is because they weren't Squirrelflight's. He wanted to hurt her, but she used the truth of their parentage to say it wouldn't matter if they live or die.

which bothers me immensely btw in WHAT world would anyone ever just be like,

"Ok I believe you. You definitely don't love these kids you ran towards a fire to save, obviously, they're adopted ugh. Let me just let these three witnesses walk away from my attempted murder-- I'll find some other way to hurt you later :)"

Sooo... what would it matter if they were Ashfur's kids, y'know? It was never about them being Brambleclaw's children, it was about hurting Squilf.

Just sort of seems like a less twisty twist that wouldn't even work, unless you wanted an AU where the Three die at the hands of their crummy biodad

#Warrior Cats Analysis

[suguwu]

us together for a while

in those early, sleep-blurred seconds, he’s still yours.

pairing: nanami x reader

warnings: major manga spoilers for chapter 120. angst, smoking, brief mention of pills/medications, kinda unhealthy coping mechanisms. not canon compliant post shibuya.

word count: ~1k

notes: i swore to myself the first full thing i wrote for nanami wouldn’t be angst, yet here we are. title is from tamino’s ‘habibi’

The touch that wakes you is painfully tender.

You barely feel it, just a wisp of sensation slipping beneath your skin to rouse you. You sway between worlds, caught between sleep and reality, everything blurring into something unreal.

“S’early, baby,” you slur, cracking open a bleary eye. The bedroom is smeared cobalt with the approaching dawn, a liminal kiss of blue. “Come back to bed.”

The low, rich hum you’re expecting never comes. There’s not the familiar weight of Kento’s hand sweeping up the curve of your hip, his wide palm cupping the plush of it.

“Ken?”

You start to blink away your drowsiness. The room is still bathed in deep blue, but it fades into something softer with each passing breath. You raise your head enough to peer across the empty sea of Kento’s side of the bed, and pause.

Kento’s sunglasses gleam on the nightstand. Your throat tightens, and something opens up inside you, an unending well that tastes like sorrow. He keeps no reminders in your bedroom. Here, there is no space for what waits for him beyond your doorstep. It is only the two of you, woven together into a tapestry of home.

“Oh,” you breathe, finally, terribly awake.

And the world falls out from under you all over again.

It’s Shoko who shows up on your doorstep, the bags under her eyes like bruises, deeper and larger than you’ve seen before. There’s a softness to her umber eyes that you haven’t seen in eons. She beckons you outside, and something in you goes cold.

She taps a cigarette out of an old, crumpled box. You take it when she offers it to you, and then she’s warm against your side as you sit on the worn steps leading to your genkan.

Her steady words ring their death knell and echo in your ears, imprint in your marrow. You’ll carry them with you forever, you know.

Shoko gives no condolences. The tip of her cigarette burns like a sunset as she presses it against yours. You suck in a breath until yours lights, and it feels like breathing her in, like sharing the howling thing in your hollow chest with her. Or perhaps she’s sharing the brambles pricking sharp in the gaps between her ribs with you.

The smoke rasps through your throat. You think of campfire soot and the embers of bonfires and the ashes that bones leave behind. You swallow down the cough. If you swallow down the deep, horrified wail too, no one but you needs to know.

“Itadori wanted to be the one who told you,” she says into the quiet.

You close your eyes for a breath.

“Kento would have hated that,” you say.

“He would have,” Shoko agrees, and the butt of her cigarette is stained with her lipstick, pale petal-pink.

You think of the young sakura in the corner of the backyard, how Kento had carried it home after you’d absently mentioned getting one. He’d helped you plant it that very weekend.

Somewhere, there’s a picture of the two of you under it, silken petals the color of a pearly dawn caught in Kento’s spun-gold hair like confetti, the delicacy of them only matched by the tender curve of your body curled around him. You wonder if you could bear to see it now.

Shoko exhales a stream of smoke. The two of you watch it dissipate into the chilly air, into the golden light of the mid-afternoon sun. “It’s not a child’s burden to carry a message like this,” she says, and it stings nettle-sharp, how you can hear Kento so perfectly in those words.

Quiet unfurls between the two of you.

“I’m glad it’s you, Shoko,” you say gently.

“I wasn’t going to let Satoru tell you.”

“Kento asked you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” she says, glancing at you and grinding her cigarette out against your walkway. “A year or two ago. Hard to believe I’m the most reasonable option. Then again, you’ve met Satoru.”

The laugh creaks out of you, the groaning melody of a sinking ship, and Shoko stares out into the distance as it morphs, as it distorts into an age-old song. She plucks your cigarette from your shaking fingers and takes a deep drag. The tip burns bright, a searing shock of orange. She leans against you as you croon out your grief in wet, bone-scraping sobs.

How like Kento, you think that night, curled up on a futon in a cradle of too-cold blankets. You’d only lasted a minute in the vast, devouring emptiness of your shared bed.

How like Kento, you think again, fingers fisting tight in one of his shirts, to keep taking care of you even once he’s gone.

The pillowcase is warm and damp against your cheek. Whatever echo of the past woke you with that delicate touch is long gone. You ache for those blurry seconds before he slipped through your fingers once more.

You smooth your hand over Kento’s side of the bed, let your fingers trace across the cool, unused sheets. Beyond your reach, his nightstand is a tiny museum bathed in the quiet azure of the early morning, small pieces of him caught in the resin of time. His sunglasses glint starlight cold.

Pushing yourself up feels like swimming through honey, the air syrupy against your sleep-hot skin. It sticks to you, drags at you like a riptide. The bottle of sleeping pills is heavy in your hand. You shake out a single one, swallow it down with a mouthful of stale water.

The bed creaks beneath you as you curl up again. You close your eyes against the soft, enveloping blue of approaching dawn, sparing yourself from the way it paints melancholy across the walls of your bedroom.

Sleep creeps over you like oceantide, and you sink into the cradle of it with a quiet sigh.

When you wake, Kento will be yours again, if only for a few scant seconds.

It’s not enough, but it’s all you have.

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