cuteangsty

[cuteangsty]

Pet shelter whump (interactive)

Let the sunbathe a little, it's the evening sun

masterlist

The back door creaks open with a soft push, letting the warm hue of the evening sun spill into the hallway. The light paints long, golden strokes across the floor as you gesture to the bench outside.

You tell them to play outside and sunbathe.

Elliott steps out first, slowly, eyes darting around the small backyard. He treads cautiously on the wooden steps and reaches the bench, sitting stiffly on its edge. He keeps his hands on his knees, tense, and glances back at the house door like it's a lifeline. His leg begins to bounce.

Rashmi follows after him, tugging on his shirt to orient himself out, but instead of taking the bench, he lowers himself directly onto the patch of grass, wincing slightly but settling down carefully. He leans back, palms spread across the cool earth, face tilted toward the sun like a flower. His eyes don’t focus much, but he blinks slowly, soaking in the warmth, the breeze, the feel of crumbling leaves under his fingers. For the first time, he looks peaceful.

Elliott tries to sit still, but it doesn’t last. His shoulders twitch every time a bird chirps. He looks to the door. Then at you. Then at Rashmi. His lips part like he might say something, but nothing comes. After a long while, he stands up, paces, then sits again. His foot taps rapidly against the dirt.

After about thirty minutes, he finally walks up to where you're standing just inside the doorway.

“Um… Master?” he asks, eyes never quite meeting yours. “Can I go back inside now…?”

You give him a kind look, speaking gently. You tell him the sun is good for them and that they probably didn't have enough outdoor time at the shelter.

He blinks, fidgeting. “...There were no windows in our rooms,” he mutters. “Only when we were brought out for a few minutes.”

You nod. “Exactly. So I think it’s good to let your skin breathe and just… exist out here a while. Nothing’s going to happen. I promise.”

Elliott lowers his head and gives a small, rigid nod before turning back toward the bench. He doesn’t sit this time. He stands behind it, arms crossed over his chest, waiting.

The sun dips slowly lower, casting deeper shadows across the grass. Rashmi stays still on the ground, head tilted back and eyes fluttering half-closed. He shifts occasionally to feel the sun hit a different part of his face or to run his fingers through the grass like he’s committing the texture to memory.

Elliott remains on edge the entire time.

Eventually, an hour passes. You step outside and clap your hands gently. You tell them it's time to come in

Elliott doesn’t wait. The moment the words leave your mouth, he darts past you, slipping back inside without a word or glance at Rashmi. The brunette notices it, but Elliot left so quickly and he hadn't even gotten up.

Rashmi flinches at the sound. “...Already?” he asks quietly, not hiding the disappointment in his tone. He lingers in place for a second longer before slowly standing. He brushes grass from his clothes, his gaze unfocused as he tries to orient himself.

“Here,” you say, stepping toward him. “This way.”

He reaches for your voice. You gently guide him by the arm. He’s light and quiet, his bare feet brushing softly across the ground. He walks carefully, trusting your hand, though his expression is unreadable.

Once inside, he pauses in the hallway, taking a second to listen to the house.

You close the door behind him and speak softly, asking if he is alright.

He nods, just once.

Elliott is nowhere in sight.

[cuteangsty]

Kishio Daisuke really did a good job. I mean I love Azusa's moans 😭✋

[cuteangsty]

It has come to my attention that people in the fandom don't understand the use of implication, so I will now break down easily as possible for people that don't believe Cordelia sexually groomed Laito. @dl-drama-cd (Tws for rape and incest)

The conversation atop is one shared between Laito and Cordelia. Take note of the background. It is a bedroom. Not the garden or the kitchen or somewhere aesthetic in the moonlight, it is a bedroom.

A bedroom is used for sleeping or as Reiji likes to call it, private activities. We all know that people who usually share a bed are relatively close in terms of relationship, it doesn't matter what kind, they just need to be close.

Cordelia shares no emotional/maternal bonds with her sons. She is often described as crass or cold. Why are her and Laito in a bedroom together if they do not share such a bond?

A bed in media is often used (with context) as a symbolism for lovers sleeping together, because that's exactly where it happens.

How do we know that something more sinister is going on than just a mother and son talking? We can figure this out based on the conversation.

Let's look at what's said between the two.

In the first image, Laito poses a question to Cordi. He asks her, without explicitly saying what "it" is, what's her reason for doing this?

This is a canon interaction between these two characters, where character 1 (Laito), is unaware of the intentions that character 2 (Cordelia) possess. Which is why he is asking her, why she is doing "this", because he does not know why this is happening to him.

Cordelia then explains, also again without directly saying anything, that she does "this" because she loves him. This is Cordelia's reasoning and answer to Laito's previous question.

That's pretty straightforward, I don't think we need a paragraph long analysis on that.

Laito, who then repeats the word, love, in a questioning manner.

Why does he do this instead of just accepting her answer as is?

Because he is simply not satisfied with such an answer. Why isn't he just accepting her word as is? We, don't yet know because once again, the context in this current conversation is not said.

Continuing, we see Cordi backing up her previous statement by saying that there is no world out there where a mother doesn't love a son, and if there is, what kind of world would it be?

She tries to explain that Laito shouldn't question her actions, but rather accept them as they are, because that's an inherent profession of love between mother and son.

Laito, in response, flatly says that a world without love between mother and child, is the one that they live in.

In other words, Laito does not accept that "this" is what paternal love truly is. He believes that his mother does NOT love him, which we can easily pair up with his earlier question "Love?".

Now that we have some form of context to the character's inner thought process and what they are currently feeling, we can put together some pieces on what kind of conversation is actually going on.

At a first glance it can be assumed that a son is doubting his mother's love for him, because well, that's exactly what's happening.

But if we speculate a bit more on the background, and the given context of the conversation, we can now say that the truth of the situation lies within the more subtle clues.

Example #1.

This memory, isn't a pleasant one. This conversation has already happened and Laito is simply remembering it. You can use the images provided to reverse google search the complete scene for further proof, but as already stated, this is NOT a conversation he is very fond of.

Example #2.

The conversation that these two are having, shows us that one person is satisfied while the other isn't for whatever reason that may be. I've broken it down already so you can understand it a bit more, but feel free to once again do your own research.

Example #3.

The implication of the background. Like I've previously stated, I broke it down at the start of this post. But let me be absolutely clear and reiterate this, THE REASON THE BACKGROUND IMAGE IS HAPPENING INSIDE A BEDROOM AND NOT ANYWHERE ELSE (even though you can suck someone's blood anywhere you wanted to) IS BECAUSE THE CONTEXT LIES WITHIN THE BEDROOM ALONE. The creators didn't just randomly choose a free png of a bedroom for a conversation where a child asks a parent why they're doing something, that the child feels like diminishes the sole intent of paternal love. Context clues, matter.

Now then, I'll go on to add another image where I'll make a very short and factual analysis without hypotheticals or opinions being used.

Laito in this scene, is completely naked. He is naked and with a solemn expression on his face, thinking about his mother pleasuring him. He is also reminiscent on the words his mother has told him, that being "I love you, Laito".

Cordelia then says that "That kind of thing is just something given in exchange" when the words I love you, are said. Laito, once again, admits that he was being pleasured while thinking of his mother. [End analysis]

We can speculate that since he is thinking of his mother and pleasure at the same time, she is the one who is giving it to him.

Why do I think this? Because he is completely naked, his only thoughts being his mother's voice. That being said, we can now say that what is being "given in exchange" in Cordelia's words, after saying I love you (or perhaps vice versa, where I love you comes first) is pleasure.

I have a couple of links here we can make with these couple of images alone.

In the first part, we see them talking in a bedroom and the conversation eventually leads to satisfaction, in terms of "once I am satisfied with the outcome, there should be no question". She also references love here, as she does in the latest image I have provided.

With the context that we have now we can equate love to pleasure. And Cordelia states that she loves Laito multiple times throughout just these two scenarios.

Now, my interpretation of this is that Cordelia is clearly raping her son and using "love" as a means to mask, and more so, normalize what is happening between them. (I say normalize because Cordelia tries convincing Laito that this is what goes on between mother and son in the first conversation).

However, even if you do not share the same perspective, it is still abundantly clear that Cordelia Sakamaki, first wife of Karlheinz, daughter of King Burai of the Vibora clan, mother of Ayato Sakamaki, Kanato Sakamaki and Laito Sakamaki, is giving sexual pleasure to her son. Whether it is by bloodsucking, or by sex, or both.

She is sexually grooming Laito by giving him these sensations a mother should not be giving her child, and is committing an act of incest.

[cuteangsty]

We all know rescued whumpees who have the mentality and behavior of a beaten puppy, but please consider: Guard dog whumpee

Stoic whumpee, who after being rescued by the caretaker(s), becomes incedibly loyal to them, going to extreme lengths to ensure caretaker is safe and comfortable. Like a beaten puppy whumpee, guard dog whumpee always puts others' needs first, but does so with the attitude of a gentleman and disciplined soldier.

Other than that, whumpee does their best to try and act normal (so no one gets the idea to waste attention or ressources trying to help them).

Maybe caretaker begins to notice it and asks questions about it, but whumpee always denies that there is anything wrong with them or with what they do. Caretaker tells whumpee they deserve to be treated equally to other people, which only results in whumpee doing their best to hide their behavior, because they are convinced that they don't deserve to be treated equally and that protecting and serving caretaker is their duty.

[cuteangsty]

I feel like living weapon whump is more often from the point of view of the caretaker or outsiders, and it focuses so much on guilt and ingrained training

And those are good, Don't get it twisted, but I think this discounts the delicious delicious mental fatigue. Not the emotional guilt, or the tactical withdrawals, but the exhaustion from thinking

Whumpee hasn't had to think for years....Whumper just points and they attack. They aren't people, they're targets. If the call-word isn't used, then theyre not fucking talking to whumpee.

Their food is put into their hands, their armor strapped onto them. No option about when or what. Their holding cell is where they lay down, the medical center is where they stay still.

Nothing needs thought, everything is instinct. Faces blur and fade so quickly.

[cuteangsty]

Your writing is really good.

AI is unreliable and bad for the environment.

There are plenty of free grammar checking programs available online that don't use that.

You don't even need to reply to this. Just a thought.

You're right! I heard people using something called grammarly, but I thought it was also based on AI so I didn't bother checking.

But I've actually found out a way to configure libre office (the software I use to edit text) to correct the things I usually write wrong and to stop bothering me about character names, so I guess I'll stick with that for a while.

But thanks. If you have a preferred grammar checking program, please let me know! I'm not actually that used to posting stories I write, so most of them are just messes lol

[cuteangsty]

Werewolf whump [stories]

Part 1 -> Part 2

Summary: a human man, living alone in the mountains finds a sick werewolf wandering near his house and takes him in.

Andreas stares at the creature laying by the fireplace, his mind focused on it's breathing - a hissing can be heard everytime it inhales - it's alive, at least... But only barely. Thanks to the warmth of the fire, some color seems to have returned to werewolf's cheeks. It looks a slightly more human now, but the finger prints are still deeply blue...

The creature's skin wraps tightly around the bones, very little muscle tissue in between and almost no sign of fat. The check bones and ribs are it's most egregious signs of starvation, while the arms and lower abdomen still retain some defined muscles. The yellowish complexion of the werewolf's skin slowly morphs into a darker one, it's most likely on the darker spectrum, but it's hard to tell right now, specially with the frost bites around it's sunken eyes and thin lips.

Andreas studies it carefully, not believe on his eyes. He has never seen someone in such a miserable state, and now... Now, what?

The man had. Been waiting for the werewolf to come to it's senses for the past hour, yet he has no idea what to do afterwards.

A low groan, barely audible over the fire, signaled the change. The werewolf’s fingers twitched, curling slightly against the fur rug. Then, with an effort that looked excruciating, its eyelids fluttered open.

Andreas tensed, gripping the cup still half-full of broth.

The eyes that stared back at him were vacant. Unfocused. No awareness, no recognition—just a hollow, feverish emptiness. The werewolf’s lips parted, and the muttering resumed.

“…sorry… I tried… I tried… wasn’t my fault… wasn’t—”

Andreas leaned forward. “Hey.”

The muttering didn’t stop.

“…too much, too much, don’t—don’t let it happen again—”

“Hey,” Andreas said again, louder this time. “Look at me.”

The werewolf blinked sluggishly, its pupils blown wide. Its breathing hitched, a sudden shiver rolling through its frail body.

Andreas set the cup aside and shifted onto his knees. “Can you understand me?”

No response. The muttering continued, a mess of fractured sentences and nonsensical apologies.

Andreas scowled. He reached out, gripping the creature’s shoulder firmly—but gently—giving it a slight shake. “Do you even know where you are?”

The werewolf flinched. Its gaze flickered, as if trying to focus, but whatever recognition might have sparked was gone in an instant.

“…too late… too late now…”

Andreas swore under his breath, pushing himself to his feet. His hands clenched at his sides as he turned away from the muttering wreck of a creature.

What the hell am I even doing?

The thing was dying. Starving, fevered, freezing from the inside out. He had done what he could, dragged it out of the snow, warmed it, fed it—barely. But was that enough? Was it even the right thing to do?

Andreas exhaled sharply, running a hand through his tangled hair. A part of him whispered that maybe he should have left it out there, let nature take its course. Maybe whatever had reduced the werewolf to this state was mercy in disguise.

But another part—quieter, but far more stubborn—refused to accept that.

With a deep breath, he stepped toward his bedroom, the wooden floor creaking beneath his boots. The space was small, barely more than a bed and a chest for his few belongings. He pulled the chest open and rifled through the clothes—thick wool shirts, an extra coat, some old trousers. Not much, but better than the rags the werewolf had been wearing.

“sorry… I can still—still go on… on... A-and...c-can carry it, I swear…” The words slurred together, barely comprehensible. “Not broken… not yet… yes...yet...still—still move…” it's hissed gasps interrupted some of the words.

Andreas exhaled slowly, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. The nonsense just kept spilling out, looping back in on itself, an endless stream of fevered delirium. He didn’t know what the hell this thing had been through, but whatever it was, it had chewed him up and spit him out in pieces.

Carefully, hesitantly, Andreas reached out and took the werewolf’s hand. It was stiff, trembling, fingers curled inward as if they had forgotten how to stretch.

“Hey,” Andreas murmured, his thumb pressing lightly against the ice-cold skin. “?You’re lying by my fire, in my cabin. You’re safe, understand?”

The wolf parted it's lips for a moment, eyes flickering. For only a second it looked like the creature had heard him, but then, just as quickly looped back into the nonsense.

"Useful... Full moon... I do...can...useful...."

Andreas sighed, rubbing his temples. “Can you just—” He stopped, then gritted his teeth. “Can you just shut up for one damned second?”

The werewolf flinched, but the mumbling didn’t stop.

Andreas ran a hand down his face, frustration boiling beneath his ribs. He wasn’t a people person, let alone a psychiatrist , or a doctor!

If it never fully wakes up, what is he going to do with it? He can't keep it! In fact, why keep it? He isn't responsible for it. There is nothing linking the two, he doesn't even know it's name!

The werewolf’s muttering continued, a soft, incomprehensible stream of words, but something shifted in its movements. Andreas noticed it when the creature’s hand, trembling and stiff, reached out weakly toward his. It wasn’t aggressive; it wasn’t even fully conscious. But there was a desperation in its touch—a pull, a need to make contact.

Andreas hesitated, uncertain, his gaze flicking between the creature’s outstretched hand and its vacant, fevered eyes.

With a quiet exhale, he reached out, letting his fingers brush against the werewolf's cold, fragile skin. The hand that had once seemed so monstrous, so capable of violence, now felt frail and clumsy. It was an odd sensation, the stark contrast between what it was and what it had become.

The werewolf didn’t react immediately, its eyes clouded with confusion as it continued its endless muttering. But then, slowly, its fingers began to trace the braided string bracelet that circled Andreas’ wrist. The werewolf’s movements were sluggish, uncertain, but there was a delicate focus to them, a quiet curiosity. Its fingers ran over the threads, feeling the texture, the knots, the pattern.

For a moment, the muttering slowed, quieted. The creature seemed less frantic, more subdued as it examined the bracelet with a kind of fragile wonder.

Andreas couldn’t help but watch, his brow furrowing. He had no idea why this particular thing—this simple bracelet—seemed to hold the creature’s attention. But for the first time since it had fallen to his doorstep, it seemed… calmer.

"You like this?"

With a slight hesitation, Andreas pulled the bracelet off his wrist. He glanced at the werewolf, whose eyes, though still clouded, were following the movement. Gently, he placed the braided string around the creature’s hand, securing it in place. The werewolf’s fingers twitched slightly as the bracelet settled around its wrist, a thin strand of humanity, of connection, amidst the chaos of its condition.

Andreas leaned back, feeling an odd sense of something—something like peace, though it was fleeting. He didn’t know why it had worked, or if it would make any difference at all. But it seemed to quiet the creature for now, and that was something.

He sighed, rubbing his face again. He still had no idea what to do with it. But maybe, just maybe, the bracelet would help in some small way.

Andreas sat there quietly for a moment, watching the werewolf’s shallow breaths and the delicate way its fingers moved around the braided string bracelet. It didn’t make sense, not really—nothing about this situation made sense—but he had to try something.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke, trying to inject some normalcy into the madness.

“My sister made this,” he said, his voice steady, though there was a knot in his chest. “It’s a friendship bracelet. She made one for me, and one for herself. She’s... far away now, but we used to wear them together.”

The werewolf didn’t respond at first. Its glazed eyes flickered, trying to focus on him, but there was something unsettlingly distant in its gaze, as if everything was clouded over. Its breathing was strained, its lips parted as if it wanted to say something, but all it could manage was a weak, hoarse muttering.

“I can… I can still walk…”

The words felt like they were dredged from the depths of confusion, and Andreas’ heart sank. He had hoped for something more—anything that might give him a clue about what was really going on, or at least a glimmer of recognition. But all he got was that one sentence.

He felt disappointment settle over him like a heavy weight, and it tightened his chest. The werewolf’s words were fractured, as if trying to hold onto something, but it was slipping through its fingers.

“It’s okay,” Andreas said quietly, though he wasn’t sure if the creature could even understand. “You don’t need to walk. You’re safe here.”

But the werewolf wasn’t listening. It continued to speak, its voice soft, cracked with exhaustion.

“River…” The word hung in the air for a moment, and then the werewolf’s lips parted again. “p-please... 'msorry...”

Andreas stared at it. Still puzzle, even more frustrated. For a moment it seemed like the wolf would reach some reason, but again, they've sunk back to square one.

The werewolf blinked, and for a second, it seemed like it was trying to gather itself. There was a faint shift in its expression, a subtle attempt to focus. But then it slumped, its gaze drifting again.

“R-river... P-please, sorry... River....”

Andreas let out a breath, frustration building again, but he quickly tamped it down. This wasn’t the creature’s fault. It wasn’t... whatever it used to be.

"Okay..." He exhaled, trying to stay cool, maybe think of something else he could say to help.

The werewolf’s body trembled, and the muttering continued in fragments. It was clear now that it wasn’t responding to his words directly—it was just grasping for something, anything, in the fog of its delirium. But Andreas couldn’t stop the twinge of helplessness creeping up in him.

It was trying, in its own way. But it felt like he was chasing shadows, trying to piece together a puzzle that kept shifting beneath his fingers. At least it wasn't repeating the same words as before.

Andreas leaned back against the wall, rubbing his hands over his face. The silence stretched for a moment, and then, with another exhausted sigh, he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Just... hang in there. I’ll figure this out.”

The werewolf’s eyes flickered again, but there was no comprehension in them, no recognition. Just the endless, scattered muttering.

The werewolf’s muttering came to an abrupt halt as an erratic coughing fit seized its chest. The sound was harsh, ragged, its breath rattling in the creature’s throat as it tried desperately to clear it, but nothing came out except a dry, painful rasp. Its body trembled with the effort, a wave of exhaustion sweeping over it immediately after, and it collapsed back against the blanket, its mouth half-open as it gasped for air.

Andreas froze, his heart skipping a beat. He could feel his own throat tightening as the creature’s breathing became more erratic, but he couldn’t stop himself from staring. The werewolf’s dry, cracked lips parted, and it attempted to mumble once more, but there was no voice, only a hollow, strained sound that echoed faintly in the air.

"…river…”

The word barely made it past the creature’s lips, but this time, something in it struck Andreas with sudden clarity. River? Could it be... thirst? Was the creature trying to ask for water? Maybe even clinging to some old, instinctual memory of what it needed?

Without another thought, Andreas sprang to his feet, his pulse quickening. There was something he could do. Maybe not much, but something.

He rushed to the kitchen, his boots pounding against the wooden floor as he made his way to the stove. The kettle was still warm from earlier—he’d heated it up for his own tea, but now, it had a more pressing purpose. The steam rising from the water was a welcome sight, and for a moment, he just stood there, the warm vapor filling his lungs.

Grabbing the kettle, Andreas poured the warm water into a mug, the warmth flowing in, heating up his hand a little.

He hurried back to the fireside, the mug in his hand, and knelt beside the werewolf once again. The creature’s eyes flickered, still hazy but focused a little more intently now, its breath more shallow.

“Here… drink,” he whispered. “It’s water. You’re thirsty, right? You need this.”

Andreas took a steady breath and carefully tilted the mug toward the creature, letting the warm liquid flow slowly into its dry mouth.

At first, there was a slight resistance, but as the water passed over the werewolf’s lips, its throat seemed to respond. The coughing stopped for a brief moment, and the creature, still trembling, began to swallow, its throat moving with each fragile gulp.

Andreas’ pulse steadied, his hope igniting just a little. Maybe, just maybe, this was the first step.

When Andreas pulled the mug away, the werewolf let out a soft, almost relieved sigh, its body seeming to relax for the first time in what felt like forever. There was a faint, almost imperceptible smile pulling at the corners of its lips, as if it found some fleeting comfort in the water.

Andreas gently wiped the sides of its mouth, his fingers brushing against its cool, cracked skin. The contrast between the warmth of the water and the cold of the werewolf’s face was striking, and his gaze flicked to the creature’s fingers, still a deep, painful shade of blue from frostbite. The tips of its nose and cheeks were similarly burned by the cold, the frostbite eating into its skin, leaving it raw.

But there was something else. The creature’s complexion had begun to shift, moving from that pale, almost sickly yellowish hue to something more natural, more in line with its true coloring. The deep shades of its skin were finally starting to return as warmth seeped into its body. It was recovering, even if slowly, and it made Andreas feel a strange mix of relief and anxiety.

The man instinctively reached for the creature’s hand, his fingers tracing the thin, trembling digits. He pressed the werewolf’s fingers against the bracelet, the small gesture grounding him. Andreas didn’t pull away. He let the moment linger, uncertain if the werewolf truly understood or if it was just reacting instinctively. Either way, he stayed.

They spent the next hour like this—Andreas speaking softly, repeating simple words, and the werewolf echoing them back in a slow, uncertain voice. It wasn’t much, but it was something. At times, the creature’s eyes would flicker with brief awareness before clouding over again. It was exhausting to watch, but Andreas refused to let frustration take over.

Eventually, the werewolf’s grip on consciousness slipped again. Its breathing slowed, becoming more even, and its muttering faded into quiet, shuddering breaths. Sleep had claimed it at last.

Andreas exhaled, rubbing his face. His body ached, his mind heavy with uncertainty. There was no telling how long this recovery would take—if it was even possible. But the fact that the creature had responded at all, that it had clung to those few words…

Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to pull it back from whatever abyss it had fallen into.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling. How did he even end up in this situation? His life had been simple, isolated—exactly the way he wanted it. But now…

Andreas glanced at the sleeping werewolf.

Looks like he'll have to get used to not being by himself anymore.

[cuteangsty]

neglected pet whump

whumper who inherited whumpee from a neighbor or relative- they never really wanted them in the first place, but now they've some pet and don't really know what to do with it. so they don't do much with it at all.

they're not intentionally harmful, of course- but perhaps they've a large family, a lot of little kids, always busy with sports, school, dance, playdates, a million different things-

so whumpee is just forgotten.

they get used to it eventually, of course, but their old owner was always so affectionate; they were always cuddling, always talking, going on walks, reading together. they were needed, back then, and they're not anymore.

[cuteangsty]

werewolf whump [stories]

summary: a man who lives on a isolated mountain rescues a sick werewolf he found wandering near his cabin.

The wind howled across the snow-covered peaks, biting through the layers of fur and wool that wrapped around Andrea's body. He trudged through the deep powder, the weight of his catch—the day's solitary prize—a string of fish that seemed almost too light in comparison to the heaviness of the mountain air. The sun had dipped behind the jagged horizon hours ago, leaving only the faint glow of twilight to guide him back to the small cabin nestled between the towering pines. Despite the cold that gnawed at his bones, there was comfort in the isolation of his home on the mountain. It had been years since he'd seen another soul, and the quiet was something he treasured.

But as he neared the clearing that marked the edge of his property, something shifted in the air. The usual stillness felt… wrong. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a figure near the edge of the trees—a hunched silhouette stumbling through the snow, too large to be a deer or any creature he knew. As Andreas approached cautiously, he saw it more clearly: a beast, its fur matted and dirty, the eyes seemed lost and gleamed feverishly in the dim light. It was sick, sick in a way that unsettled him more than he could understand. And it wasn’t just any creature. There, in the depths of its feral gaze, Andreas recognized the unmistakable signs of a werewolf.

The man hesitated for a second, the wolf might hear his steps, sense his approach. Even sick, a creature such as this can still pose a threat, and a significant one at that... Andreas lowered his body, crouching as much as he could, trying to make himself look smaller and stepped further. He quickly glanced at the werewolf almost as if asking for approval. The werewolf, however didn't seem to bother at, simply stumbling back and forth a few times. The poor thing looks completely out of it as it tries to keep it's eyes from closing. Andreas keeps moving forward. As he gets closer, he sees the werewolf moving his lips in a pattern, almost as if reciting something. It's stumbles seem to also be part of a pattern, or at least an attempted one. It looks it's trying to walk towards the cabin, but the snow covering the ground is too thick and the lack of proper equipment can't help it. In fact the wolf is barely wearing anything, the few coverings it has on are nothing but thin layers of rags. The wolf trembles violently underneath them.

From this distance, Andreas can finally piece together the puzzle in front of him. The man is eager to rush to the wolf's rescue, but... He may startle it... Perhaps a more distant approach...

Andreas heart pounded in his chest as he took a cautious step forward.

“Hey!” he shouted, his voice carrying across the snow. “What are you doing here?”

His words echoed off the trees, but the creature didn’t react, its sickly gaze still fixed somewhere distant. A knot of worry twisted in his gut—He had heard stories, folk tales about the "wolf man", as well as personal accounts from those who have seen them... this wasn’t the way a werewolf usually behaved. They were predators, wild and untamed, not... this. He took another step, louder this time, his voice rougher.

“I said, what’s wrong with you? Get away from my cabin!”

The beast didn’t flinch. It was as though it couldn’t hear him at all, or worse—it simply didn’t care. Its heavy, labored breathing filled the air, but there was no movement, no aggression, just an eerie stillness that unnerved him more than anything. Arvid’s gaze flicked to the snow around the creature’s feet, noticing the tracks that were faintly smudged in the drifts. It had been dragging itself here, struggling. Something was terribly wrong with it. In the fading light, Arvid could only see the outline of its fur matted with dirt and blood. He swallowed hard, torn between fear and an odd, growing sense of pity for the beast. Whatever had happened to it, this was no longer the monster he’d been raised to fear.

Before Andreas could yell yet again to the creature's seemly deaf ears, the wolf fell to the ground. Collapsing without any warning. The man rushed towards it, glancing around, looking for a reason, an explanation... Anything!

its massive body crumpling into the snow with a low, strained groan. Panic surged through him, overriding the usual caution he kept in the presence of anything so dangerous. Without thinking, he rushed forward, the cold air burning his lungs as he approached the fallen creature. The wolf's fur was matted and soaked in sweat, its body trembling violently as it panted, each breath shallow and labored. A faint whine escaped from the beast’s throat, a sound so pitiful it stopped Arvid in his tracks for a moment.

He knelt beside the werewolf, his hands trembling as he took in the strange sight. The creature’s rags—old, worn, and stained with dried blood—clung loosely to its form, but there were no visible wounds. No fresh blood, no gashes or bites. Arvid’s brow furrowed in confusion. How could something so vicious, so powerful, be in this state? There was no trace of the feral creature he was used to seeing—this one seemed… human. The faintest traces of humanity still lingered in its features.

With what it felt like one last labored breath the werewolf's eyes started to close. Andreas gently slaps it's cheek. Clammy cold skin feels odd, but... Oh well...

The wolf's eyes flicker and seem to focus on Andreas for a second, before growing heavy again. 'not quite dead, not quite alive'. The sense of urgency hits him like a punch in the gut, growing inside his chest, making him forget reason. The creature may be a dangerous beast, a predator, all of that, but...

It stopped trembling, it's breathing became more erratic as it fighting to stay conscious was too much work for it. Andreas slaps his cheek once more.

"Hey! Stay awake, ja? Do not close your eyes!"

Concentrating his adrenaline, Andreas scoops the creature off the snow and lifts it. It's not very heavy, this can't be a good sign, either... Now that he is closer, the man hears a glimpse of the werewolf's muttering.

The howling wind bit at his face, but he barely noticed. His focus was on the wolf’s shallow, erratic breaths and the muttered nonsense spilling from its lips.

“…no, no, I didn’t mean to—please… s’not my fault… I… I tried, I swear I tried…”

Andreas’ grip tightened. The words, though fractured and delirious, carried a weight of desperation. The voice itself was strained, hoarse—like someone who had been screaming for far too long.

The cabin was close now. Warmth. Shelter. He had left the fire burning before heading out to fish, and for once, he was grateful for his own habits. The front door was already unlocked—he kicked it open with his boot and stepped inside.

The heat hit him immediately, chasing away the mountain’s brutal chill. He wasted no time, carrying the werewolf straight to the hearth and lowering it onto the thick fur rug. The moment his arms let go, the creature let out a weak, involuntary whimper, curling in on itself slightly, as if the loss of contact had left it exposed.

Andreas didn’t know what to make of that.

Kneeling beside the werewolf, he worked quickly, stripping away the soaked and tattered rags it wore. Beneath them, the creature was all bone and sinew, its ribs pressing against the thin layer of flesh. It was starving.

The muttering continued—disjointed apologies, strings of gibberish, words that barely sounded human.

“…didn’t know… the moon, it—no, not again, please… sorry, sorry, sorry….

He pulled a thick wool blanket from the back of a chair and draped it over the werewolf’s trembling form. The firelight flickered across its pale, sweat-slicked face, casting strange shadows over sharp, gaunt features. The mumbling continued—soft, fevered, words bleeding into each other.

Andreas hesitated for only a second before pushing himself to his feet and hurrying toward the kitchen. It wasn’t far, just a few steps away in the single-room cabin, but his hands were already moving before his mind caught up. He had to get something warm into the creature—fast.

But what the hell do you give a werewolf?

He yanked open the small wooden pantry, eyes flicking over the meager supplies. Dried meats, bread that was already going stale, a few root vegetables. Nothing that seemed right. His gaze landed on a small pot tucked into the corner. Broth. He had made some the other night. Simple, nothing but chicken and water boiled down, but it would do.

Without wasting another second, he grabbed the pot and set it over the fire, stripping out the solid bits of chicken. The liquid warmed quickly, the familiar scent of salted stock filling the cabin. He stood there, gripping the wooden spoon too tightly, listening to the sound of the werewolf’s strained breathing behind him.

Too slow.

He yanked the pot off the heat before it could get too hot and poured a small amount into a wooden cup. Testing the temperature against his wrist—warm, but not scalding—he turned back toward the werewolf.

The creature had barely moved, its chest rising and falling in uneven, shallow breaths.

Andreas crouched beside it again, his heart hammering against his ribs. He wasn’t even sure if the thing could drink in this state.

“Hey,” he said gruffly, shaking the werewolf’s shoulder lightly. “You need to drink this.”

No response. The eyes, barely cracked open before, were now shut.

So, carefully, he shifted closer, slipped an arm beneath the creature’s shoulders, and lifted it just enough to press the cup to its lips.

"Come on,” he muttered. “Drink.”

The werewolf didn’t react at first. Then, just as Andreas was about to pull back, there was a weak, shuddering swallow.

Good. That was good.

That's it.

Btw I used chat gpt to correct some grammar mistakes bc I wrote this in the last 3 days at 3 am on my phone so... Yeah... I'm really sorry if that upsets you, I just didn't feel like correcting it manually, but I don't plan on doing it like that often.

[cuteangsty]

Werewolf whump ideas

Part 3

Shifting/transformation

(tw: mention of suicide; mental illness; murder; slavery; minor whump)

Werewolf who got disfigured from a transformation.

Werewolves are usually able to transform freely, at will ever since they've had their first full on transformation. Which happens at about the age of 16 maybe 18 if they are late bloomers.

For human Borns:

Its somewhat common for some children to be able to shift their ears or grow their claws/fangs, maybe even shift their nose into a small snout. However full transformations into wolf form only happen after a certain age, almost always as a result of very intense emotions.

(It is possible for a pup to transform earlier than that, but it's usually not a good sign)

For wolf Borns:

Contrary to popular belief among humans, it is possible that a werewolf is born in wolf form. This event happens at random, some do some don't.

In that case, they'll transform into a more humanoid form initially and as they calm down they'll gain the ability to turn into a human.

In both cases transformation almost always happens during full moon (when werewolves get more sensitive) is extremely painful at first, but wolves get used to it with practice ('practice' includes not only shifting multiple times, but also plenty emotion management, breathing exercises and physical exercises).

Needless to say that werewolves who grow up with humans, be it willingly or otherwise, struggle with shifting.

Specially enslaved wolves. Their masters see their shifting as a mechanical thing, something they do only to get in a more convenient form to do their labor. Therefore these wolves are never properly trained to get in the mindset for shifting and end up having horrible memories of their first time, which only makes the whole process worse. Many of them see it almost as punishment and constantly get a either mentally blocked or uncontrollable.

mentally blocked/ stunted - humans tend to give up on them and they are used for labor a strong human could usually do. Most captive wolves are like that.

Uncontrollable/ Feral - these are, more often than not, a result of an already disturbed mind. They tend to shift whenever they get too upset. It's out of their control, they might try to hold it in, but it's like holding a sneeze. Shifting is their only way to release frustration. They often don't remember anything when they are in wolf form and seem to hold very bad feelings about the whole experience. As dangerous as they sound, they are extremely valuable. Their strength and endurance are like no other and even if they look impossible to control, some trainers found out that they could administer small burns to make them comply.

Unfortunately feral shifters don't live very long, these often reach the mark of 27 maybe 30 before perishing. The causes tend to fatal malformations during shifting, declining mental health or work accidents.

Malformations:

The bones change sizes and shapes, muscles stretch, the skin is broken and reformed... Many things happen to a wolf's body during a transformation, although malformations are uncommon withing their communities, captive wolves are often victim of them. Since they aren't being mentored about it or performing exercises to control it, things can go horribly wrong during stressful shifting. Vital organs can get crushed or punctured by malformed bones, the stress can cause a heart failure, their noses may shift wrongly and no longer allow enough air into their bodies, and more often than not, they might swallow their tongue.

Metal health:

Feral werewolves can become extremely mentally unstable, in fact most of them do. Plenty of feral rescues have been found complete apathetic or even catatonic, others describe auditory hallucinations and paranoid delusions (most commonly believing they are part of a hive-mind or that someone else is controlling their limbs). All of them seem to be suffering from a lot of confusion and some type of split personality (not exclusive related to their wolf form). Due to all of this, it's not uncommon for ferals to hurt themselves commit suicide, be it willingly or by accident. Others are terminated by their owners as well, once they become too difficult to control, or reason with.

Work accidents:

Considering the 2 other reasons above it's needless to say, ferals can cause a lot of accidents while working.

Changing the topic for wolves who willing grow up among humans.

Those thend to also not be very found of shifting, mostly seeing it as inconvenient and troublesome. Despite being in healthier environments the lack of proper shifting exercise can lead to complications as well. You see, shifting is a natural part of a werewolf's life and not being able to do it safely. Even if the wolf isn't particular interested in their wilder side, restarting oneself from their nature usually leads frustration building up inside them, and if they aren't trained in how to release it properly, they become susceptible to malformations when the need to shift becomes unbearable.

And if they are trying to restrain themselves due to fear of their wolf side, it can also cause mental instability. Since they can't deny what they are.

Now for more specific whump ideas -> stay tuned for the next post

[cuteangsty]

Part 2

I said humans don't know the wolves actual life span, so on that note...

Wolves who grew up in this environment don't know either... Once they reach their mid 30's they already look kinda older than they actually are, sometimes even their hair start to grow white.

they don't live long because the conditions they are kept are horrible. They often get sick, injured or start to lose their reason entirely, sometimes it happens all at once... So once they reach a certain age, they are usually already feeling it coming. Be it the initial stages of an illness, exhaustion, or are starting to sink into a more complicated mental state ( a deep depression, extreme anxiety, delusion, obsessive behavior, etc...)

Some werewolf tribes, when finding a tamed one do not recognize them as their own kind. Since they are too domesticated or broken to function in their society, they show little to no interest in helping them. Thought it is not unheard of rescues who changed a tribe's mind.

Other tribes are actively trying to rescue the tamed and go out of their ways to help them recover. It also not unheard of failures among these tribes since sometimes they are just too far gone...

Very few tribes feel disgusted when seeing a tamed. Whenever they encounter one they tend to kill them. it is seen as merciful to take them out of their misery. But the tamed might get a chance if they are a rebellious runway.

Werewolf whump ideas

Part 1/???

Werewolves being often used as cheap(or even free) manual labor.

They stronger, more resilient to damage and can go on for days without a proper meal.

This isn't done often thought, only in some human villages, usually small ones, and only with the assistance of a proper wolf hunter and tamer.

Maybe people take pups from their tribes or villages to raise just for that purpose.

Or maybe the wolves being enslaved were already abandoned or runaways.

If they where taken from their families, do they hate humans? Do they long for their pack/tribe?

Do they try to run away or rebel in some other way?

Or maybe they hate wolves... they grew up with stories about big bad wolves and now hate themselves for being a wolf...

Humans don't how long a wolf's life span really is. Most of the captured ones only live up to their late 30's maybe 40's if they are lucky.

Those wolves are mostly illiterate, but eventually learn to pick up on context clues and are able to make sense of simple sentences on their own. They can learn how read and write if taught properly, though.

They are also able to communicate non-verbally among each other. A few glances, growls and body language, etc... they are still part wolf after all, so this is just part of their instincts.

Note: Humans outside of the villages who enslave werewolves usually aren't aware of this practice. Most of them know they exist but have never seen one since they are very private about their tribes.

[cuteangsty]

Werewolf whump ideas

Human x wolf relationships

Although some human villages have found a way to capture, 'tame' and enslave werewolves. There are also humans who befriend or bond with werewolves.

It is not common to see werewolves walking by themselves among humans, they are usually very private and tend to only have relationships within their own tribes and communities. Therefore, it's rare for a human to one of them, let alone for a relationship. Rare, but not impossible.

Some people who live near werewolf communities might have the chance to see a a wolf who ditched the pack, or was kicked out, or even an abandoned pup and take them in.

In such circumstances, wolves are almost always docile and cooperative. They are very social by nature, and just like humans, enjoy taking responsibilities and make a difference in other people's lives. It's unusual but not impossible to see a human or even a human family who 'adopted' a werewolf.

It is also possible for the opposite to happen. Wolves tend to not get involved in humans matters, but there are cases of human babies who were adopted by wolf communities and grew up as one of their own. Or even more rare cases of humans who managed to join a community through friendship/ romantic bonds.

Alright here is the whump:

Werewolf pup being abandoned by their parents or being separated from them due to natural disasters.

They are taken in by a human family and raised as a human child. Everything is fine until the parents start to notice what exactly they brought home. The baby is stronger than the usual child, they have sharp teeth, growing at an alarming rate, their nails are growing into thick claws...

Maybe the couple has other kids and everytime they get into a fight or argument, their biological children run up to them crying and bleeding from the pup's tantrums. The pup develops... Odd interests... (Odds for human standards) They want to kill smaller animals such as squirrels or rats and bring them as gifts, they collect animal bones and constantly ask for raw meat.

The kids grow afraid of their step sibling. The parents still love their pup, but they are too different now... Too dangerous to keep around... While the pup keeps asking them "When will the sharp teeth fall?" "When will my nails be like yours?" "Why am I so different?"

What if it's the opposite and a human is raised among wolves? (Comment if you'd like ideas for that lol)

Another idea

A werewolf stranded in the snow is found by a human.

The human lives in cabin in the mountain and is shocked to find a real wolf. (Maybe they are already kind of a furry and are excited to talk to them about all of the trivia he read about wolves and check to see if it's all true etc...) but when they try to approach, the werewolf collapses to the ground and the human rushes to the rescue.

Just to find a broken, sick werewolf muttering incoherently as they trembling slowly stops. The wolf is clearly not properly dressed for the cold (maybe even naked), their fingers are blue and frozen in place, his body is almost entirely frostbit and on top of that, his heaves with a noticeable hiss... The human immediately picks up the wolf and takes him to his cozy cabin, praying there's still hope for the poor wolf.

As the human tries to get the wolf warm, they start to ask them questions, trying to keep them awake and maybe get some clues on how they ended up there... The werewolf's gaze is lost and unfocused as he seems to ignore all of the questions and remains rambling in a muttered voice. Nothing they say make any sense... It's either apologies, promises or just straight up gibberish.

Aside from the wounds from the cold, the human also notices a few scars and bruises through the wolf's body... Looking at the situation from that angle, it suddenly hits them... They are looking at an abandoned tamed wolf...

(I actually really enjoyed this last one haha... Comment for part 2)

(jk it's probably gonna happen either way)

[cuteangsty]

Werewolf whump ideas

Part 1/???

Werewolves being often used as cheap(or even free) manual labor.

They stronger, more resilient to damage and can go on for days without a proper meal.

This isn't done often thought, only in some human villages, usually small ones, and only with the assistance of a proper wolf hunter and tamer.

Maybe people take pups from their tribes or villages to raise just for that purpose.

Or maybe the wolves being enslaved were already abandoned or runaways.

If they where taken from their families, do they hate humans? Do they long for their pack/tribe?

Do they try to run away or rebel in some other way?

Or maybe they hate wolves... they grew up with stories about big bad wolves and now hate themselves for being a wolf...

Humans don't how long a wolf's life span really is. Most of the captured ones only live up to their late 30's maybe 40's if they are lucky.

Those wolves are mostly illiterate, but eventually learn to pick up on context clues and are able to make sense of simple sentences on their own. They can learn how read and write if taught properly, though.

They are also able to communicate non-verbally among each other. A few glances, growls and body language, etc... they are still part wolf after all, so this is just part of their instincts.

Note: Humans outside of the villages who enslave werewolves usually aren't aware of this practice. Most of them know they exist but have never seen one since they are very private about their tribes.

[cuteangsty]

hi whump community let me tell you about a drug called datura!! because boy is it a doozy.

datura is a deliriant, which means it is a hallucinogenic drug capable of causing serious and often terrifying delusions and hallucinations that are literally indistinguishable from reality in the user’s mind.

It is poisonous and part of the nightshade family, and the dosage used to get high off of it is actually very close to the lethal dose. it is also not only entirely legal in most places but also very accessible. it’s grown as a house plant, actually. most people who trip off of it only do it once because of how awful of an experience it is. also trips last like a long time (anywhere from 12 hours to 3 days if i remember correctly?)

the hallucinations that come with this drug are incredibly horrifying, making it literal nightmare fuel. also the more long term effects from it can include permanent psychosis and lingering delusions. fun stuff.

common hallucination experiences from this drug include the following:

- heavy gore

- seeing corpses

- feeling like you’ve been transported to an alternate dimension (hell)

- seeing people or entities you know (but a little fucked up)

- parasites and bugs

- feeling as though your organs are falling out of your body

- shadows in the back of your vision

- smoking phantom cigarettes or eating phantom food (phantom in the sense that they aren’t really there)

- torture scenarios

all in all, i think it’s a rlly interesting thing that can definitely be used in whump. like imagine a whumper lacing someone’s tea with that. the whumpee wouldn’t even be aware that something was done to them due to the fact that they physically cannot tell the difference between delusion and reality. real fun stuff. probably need an immortal whumpee though just cuz if someone takes this there’s a high chance of them getting hospitalized.

[cuteangsty]

Werewolf training log - sick day

Prologue | log 1 | notes

Tw: (light) emeto, living weapon, minor whumpee, dehumanization.

The beast grunts and shifts around in its little corner. I thought I had told it to be silent already. It's always so difficult with it. Is it not enough that I'm letting it sit in my office?

I look over the pile of paper on the desk, checking it quickly, I can't stop myself from sighing exhausted of dealing with... This. 'it will be worth it' ,I repeat to myself. I've been rereading this mental note very often lately...

"Moss!" I call it.

-Aaaaand... It ignores me as usual...

I went as far as to give it a name just so it pretends to have none.

*SLAM*

I punch the table, not so strongly, just enough for it to make noise. Moss almost snaps its head when turning to me.

"...ugh..."

"silence." I order.

A few tear tracks mark its face... And it sniffles... The silence only last 5 seconds before it shifts awkwardly, almost involuntarily.

"*cough*... Uuhg..."

I punch the desk again.

"No. No. No. You cried for me to take you inside the house, you cried to follow me and now, you have everything. Quit crying."

This time it only lowers its head. It stopped with the noise for a few seconds, only for it to puke on the floor.

"disgusting... As if you couldn't get any worse." I murmur as I get up.

At least it wasn't much to clean. I better get Moss out of here and it won't take long to go back to work.

I pick the mutt up by the gruff and drag it outside, if it's going to throw up, better do it outside, where I don't have to deal with it. I can give it some medicine later IF it really needs it.

I just wish it'd stop crying so much, now I can't even put the muzzle...

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

Moss slept through most of the day, I couldn't advance in any field of its training. It's too weak to get up, to eat... I didn't think a werewolf could get sick like this. I mean they are supposed to thrive in the wild, aren't they?

Eeh... Well... I have to at least take some level of responsibility for it here. The oatmeal I give it expired last month, I didn't think much of it so... Oh and It didn't complain either, I guess it was too hungry to cry...

Anyway, I managed to get some herbs for it back in town. It's probably getting better by tomorrow morning, I can't wait to get back to training it. I thought I had more time... It's growing up very fast, like, no, really, it was half the size 2 months ago... I have to tame it before it hits maturity, otherwise a crybaby will be the least of my concerns.

[cuteangsty]

Werewolf training - Log 1

summary: A werewolf hunter adopts a werewolf pup in order to make a living weapon out of him.

[btw this is losely based on WoD and werewolf the apocalypse - mostly bc I don't have any of the books yet and honestly never played it, but I really like the concepts and the world.]

Tw: minor wump, dehumanization, ableism, religious themes, living weapon.

log 001 - the first days have been complicated. The guide mentions types of wolves to tame, to summarize.

Eager → The dog-like. It wants your approval and is looking forward to understand your demands and obey your orders. The ideal type for a beginner, but almost impossible to find. Out of the few dozen Wolves tamed in history only 5 were said to be the eager type. It’s argued if this type is even valid at all as a nature over nurture thing since all of them had started a relationship with the trainer extremely early in their lives. If you get them to understand what you want, they’ll do the rest for you, it’s easier to get them to think of you as friend or parent, but don’t let them forget who is in charge.

Compliant → Somewhat close to eager type, however this one is not interested in your response as a trainer, but in the rewards it will get from you. Mostly food. This one is also only seen in wolves who started their training very young in a highly controlled environment. Basically they learned to rely on the trainer for their basic needs. They are also said to be great to help train new wolves. They mostly understand their position as if they are a soldier, they do as they are told as long as they think of the trainer as superior.

Avoidant → The most common type since most of the wolves used by hunter are from orphanages, shelters or pounds. They tend to seem stubborn and difficult, but they are confused and feel lost. They usually don’t fully understand their situation, but feel the rejection from both humans and other wolves. More often than not, abandoned due to having some type of disability. Wolves of this type have an aversion to any interaction with anyone, they are confident they can manage themselves and avoid the trainer entirely. The key thing to differentiate them from being actively defiant is the level of aggression. Avoidant wolves attack owner to keep them away, not to hurt them. They cease attacking once you are at a desirable distance to them. The best approach is to quickly get them into a routine before starting training, once they become used to presence of the trainer, they will begin to understand what they are expected to do. Be sure they do not actively and consistently interact with anyone aside from the trainer. (a formally tamed wolf can help them understand their position further on in training).

Defiant → The second most common type. Those wolves are very dangerous, even as pups. Defiant wolves want to hurt, they want to show any and everyone who is boss and they will do whatever they feel is necessary to send the message. They don’t often seem to care about rejection, most of them have realized, by the time they came to our hands, that they are stronger and people fear them. Usually found running loose, having already escaped whatever institution was responsible for them and most likely already caused a mess. Requires a lot of rough training to get them in a useful state, but make excellent merciless hunters.

According to the guide in my hands Moss is tending to the avoidant type, in theory. I, however am almost completely sure it is being defiant. I attempted to give him a routine: wake up, eat, sit beside me as I investigate and study cases and targets. (if I have to leave for field work, it stays in the house.), in the evening, I interact with it verbally for about 1 hour or 2 with some pauses of 10 to 15 minutes, then sleep – I’ve had the idea of whispering suggestions in his slumber, words similar to the ones of my lecture:

‘wolves are the enemy.’

‘wolves abandoned you.’

‘I saved you.’,

‘I am human.’

‘humans are good.’

‘wolves are bad.’

etc…

Sounds childish, I know, but I assumed he doesn’t know many words, so I kept it simple.

That whole deal didn’t work, however. Moss is smarter than I had initially though. It is pretending to be confused so I go easy on it. It throws a tantrum to get more food, tries to attack me and cries when I punish it, as if confused as to why it was punished. The same goes for the verbal interactions I attempted and bedtime. It is clear to me that this mutt wants to get in charge.

I decided on a more rough style of training. For starters, I’ll have him stay by himself for a while. I managed to get a silver cage from the church, it is meant to keep vampires who are getting interrogated, but It will do. I’ll keep him locked inside it and leave the cage in the basement.

After that I expect it to become grateful I am by it’s side. Without me it is nothing.

Oh my God it took so long to post this. It's been sitting here for 2 weeks already...

I'm having a lot of issues with my computer, for a while it felt like everything's been going wrong, I couldn't finish the art piece, but I'm tired of working on it just for the pc to keep corrupting everything.

also, I'd like to kindly ask for donations on my ko-fi. I gotta pay these repairs somehow, or just try and buy a new one.

[cuteangsty]

Werewolf training - prologue

summary: A werewolf hunter adopts a werewolf pup in order to make a living weapon out of him.

[btw this is losely based on WoD and werewolf the apocalypse - mostly bc I don't have any of the books yet and honestly never played it, but I really like the concepts and the world.]

Tw: minor wump, dehumanization, ableism, religious themes, living weapon.

it's appearance is clearly inhuman. the long hairy ears, snout shaped nose, thick eyebrows and pointy teeth were more than enough for it to be set apart from the other infants at the orphanage. genetic deformity was the diagnosis given by pretty much everyone who saw it at the time.

the unusual features called the attention of many doctors during the first years of it's life, however, as it grew older the nuns responsible for the place began wondering it was a matter for the church to handle. Doctors were gradually replaced by exorcist priests.

Luckly, that was when I managed to find it. A werewolf, I could tell simply by glancing at it. Agressive, volitile, a beast, now even more dangerous since provoked by the medicines and the loud word of god. As it stood it was a tiking bomb waiting to burst and my job, as a professional hunter, was of course to kill it.

It was my job, but… well, I was young and the monster in question was still a only a small menace compared to the finished product. Malnurished, small, naive and only a few years old. According to this guide “To tame a perfect hunter” it was still under the appropriate age for conditioning. Needless to say I picked it up for myself.

As for now, my little project is near finished. It took years to achieve the current result and I’ve come to realise it won’t truly end very soon. Rather, it is a lifelong deal. I named it Moss due to it’s greenish tangled fur. I’m confident you’ll appreciate it and it’s usefullness on the last years and approve him as an official in the guild. The picture and general data is on the other envelope.

. . . . . ╰──╮

Name: Moss;

age: 4~6

Tribe: unknown;

height: 130 cm;

weight: 13kg;

╭──╯ . . . . .

I kept the name short, I heard most hunters keep it simple. no human names, no last names.

The age is dificult to tell since it is tall, yet clumsy and lacking in plenty motor skills. the orphanage said it used to look infant only a year ago.

The tribe is he came from is most likely bone gnawers or silent striders, I'm tenting to the bone gnawers. it looks nothing like most silent striders I've seen.

The info above was collected on the day it came into my hands for scientific purpose, so thay I am able to show my methods and results in comparison to what is usually done . The current data on it will be sent once my study is approved.