#Fire Fur & Mistletoe

[the-once-and-future-love]

Merlin Holiday Fic Recs (winter, xmas, yule, etc):

A Blizzard in Camelot by asilentherald

A Broken Leg, But A Whole Heart by every1isgay

A Gift for a King by A_Diamond

a gift for you, my love, this cold winter's day by merthurmagic025

A Midwinter Visit by lawgoddess

A Royal Christmas by flowersheep

A Very Merry Christmas by diversefandomer

all ye faithful by schweet_heart

Between Battles by daroh

blow cold the season by schweet_heart

Can I Be Him? by arthurpendragonz

Cold Spell by mornmeril

for years or for hours by rubyboys

For You To Keep by PunkPinkPower

Furs and Flannels by asilentherald

The Gift at Yule by Clea2011

How to Clothe a Stubborn Manservant by orphan_account [gen]

In Winter Enjoy by Black_Crystal_Dragon

King's Consort by sorcererinslytherin

Kiss Me Under the Mistletoe by vintagelilacs

the knight of wands by theythinktheyknow

Long Winter Nights by TyalanganD

Longing Floats Around You by seapotato

The Longest Night by Tayathestrange

Make A Wish by Tayathestrange

May I Have This Dance? by CreamyXD

Maybe We Were Coming All Along by sassafrasx

Melted Ice and Thermal Hearts by howshouldipresume

Merlin's Yule Gift. by rotrude

Merlin Loves Yuletide by RatFuckingQueer_67

Mistletoe by swiftonthedownside

Never a Day Off by archaeologist_d [gen]

No Matter How Far Away You Roam by lady_ragnell

Not so Silent a Night by archaeologist_d

On the Importance of Hot Beverages (And Other Methods of Keeping Warm) by A_Diamond

One of Us Is Lying by sinivalkoista [gen]

Possessed by Light by glim

Sacred Fire by cellist

Something Immortal by loser_angel

Sweet Dreams of Mistletoe by katherynefromphilly

That Shall Achieve The Sword by astolat   [gen]

The Thaw by RurouniHime

Tis the Season by archaeologist_d [gen]

Too Cold To Be Mucking Out Stables by Catnip_3 [gen]

Until Morning Light by myashke

What nonsense! by xancredible [gen]

with(out) you to hold by endoftheline7

The Yuletide Hunt by fifty_fifty

Happy Holidays! please feel free to add on more fics that you believe deserve recognition!

[cryptidclaw]

Star Firesight!

Design Notes:

Fire is now a Scottish fold!... or rather a descendant of Scottish folds since i doubt pure bred cats still exist post apocalypse.

He also has some very small black calico spotting, just two litol spots I think its cute :3

Since he is an ex healer he still wears some flowers like a healer would in memory of his old role.

Character Bio:

Star Firesight

(Fireheart/star)

Bisexual & Polyamorous; Trans Tom; he/him

Age as of 1st arc's beginning: 7 moons; 11 Hyrs

Age as of 1st arc's end: 2 cycles, 5 moons; ~26 Hyrs

Title meaning: -sight = this cat can spot things that others cannot; a cat with a close connection to the Stars; this healer receives many signs from the Stars; the healer may also be very good at spotting illnesses or injuries.

Healer -> Second -> Leader of Thunder Order

Mentor: Redtail (died) -> Spottedleaf

Mother: Nutmeg

Father: Jake

Sibling: Sapheart (Princess)

Half Siblings: Socks; Ruby: Tinyclaw

Mates: Sandstorm; Shriketail

Kits: Squirrelflight (sire: Sand); Leafpool (sire: Shrike); Foxleap (sire: Sand); Icecloud (sire: Shrike)

Grandkits: Star Hollyleaf; Falconstrike; Jaywing; Alderheart; Sparkfire

Other notable kin: Cloudtail (nephew); Snowshoe (nephew); Mistletoe (niece); Spiderleg (nephew); Shrew (nephew)

Notes:

Firesight has chronic pain (and mobility issues later in life):

Fire has the Scottish Fold breed's mutation which effects cartilage in the body, this causes his ears to fold, but it also causes chronic joint pain and can progress into swollen and inflexible joints.

For Fire, he is has the heterozygous version of this mutation, which means that his disability progresses more slowly, as a young cat he does experience some joint pain, with some days being worse than others. He is able to medicate with his own chronic pain herbal mix he created as a Healer. However as Fire grows older his joints will worsen, and by the time of his old age he will be unable to jump and some days is unable to walk.

He is able to still use his medication to aid him and is able to lead a happy life, but he is disabled and I didnt want to leave that out of his character! It's important to have disability rep (and spread awareness of the issues with the Scottish Fold breed) and I hope I serve him justice!

Character Summary:

In Progress (to be added later)

...

[Image ID: a digital drawing of Star Firesight, an AU version of Firestar from Warrior Cats. He is standing with his left side showing and has a proud and happy expression with a smile. He is a short, chubby and round shapped bright orange tom with small folded ears and green eyes. His fur's coloring is layered in a fire like pattern from orange to a lighter orangey yellow. His right ear is black and he also has a small black spot above his nose. He has a white lower chest, muzzle, toe tips and tail tip, and his nose is pink. He wears pink flower petals and green leaves in his pelt and a simple crown rests on his forehead bade up of a diamond shaped red stone and a small teardrop shaped white stone below it./End ID]

[darlingsfandom]

smut ddlg with cillian on christmas!!

bless you! Hope your Christmas was nice✨

"Well... that was....fun?" You half heartily laughed as Cillian passed you the final dirty plate so you could wash it off and load it into the dishwasher.

"It's Christmas baby, just another excuse for some of tem to drink ya know." He shrugged his shoulders before wiping off the counters to help you out. You playfully rolled your eyes at him before shutting the dishwasher with your hip and tossing the cloth over your shoulder before wrapping your arms around his waist and slowly walking over to the mistletoe hanging above the arch way of your kitchen.

Cillian smiled down at you while tucking some of your hair behind your ear. His lips attached to yours slowly before turning hungry . His hands cuffed your face while his tongue pushed past your sugar coated lips and down your throat. Your knees went weak. The scent of warm cinnamon , sugar cookies and whiskey mixed with his naturally musky scent made your head spin as his tongue pulled out and found the sweet spot below your ear.

"Cillian... daddy!" You corrected yourself so fast as your newly red nails that he paid for slipped down his button up. "Wait! You have one more present.." your words stumbled out as his hands gripped your waist and squeezed.

"Oh do I? What is it darlin ?" He looked down at you with icy blue eyes before you pulled away only to leave a warm kiss upon his cheek. "You get comfy on the couch and I'll be right back okay?" You yelled from down the hall.

Cillian sighed happily as he made contact with the leather couch in the living room that you had decorated so beautifully for the holidays. Silver and gold color palates is what you went with. Garland hanging from the fire place , the candle in the window sat on a gold candle holder, throw pillows with cheesy Christmas puns laid on the couch and love seat, a big plaid Christmas blanket covered the back of the couch and the smells in the house from the sugar cookies and dinner you worked on, it was everything he could ever ask for.

"Daddy! Are you ready?" Your voice echoed down the hall to interrupt his mostly pure thoughts.

"Am ready princess!" He called back rubbing his thighs through his black slacks.

"Close your eyes!" You giggled as the sound of your feet running against the wooden floors filled his ears.

"Okay darlin! Closed."

You appeared in front of Cillian with a soft smile on your lips.

"Open!"

Cillian opened his eyes and his jaw fell on the floor.

"Merry Christmas daddy!" You stood up straight in a very sexy Christmas outfit. It was an X rated Mrs. clause outfit minus the hat. You just placed a plastic bow instead. The white fur lined your cleavage perfectly. The red was made from velvet that lead to more white fur that didn't even reach mid thigh. Your stockings fit nice and snug on your calves as you walked up to Cillian and ran your fingers through his hair.

"Oh my... I must have been a real good boy tis year." You placed your hands on his shoulders before sitting down on his lap.

"I take it you like your present daddy?" Your little eyelashes fluttered at him while you slowly moved your hips against his.

"Best present ever princess!" He gave you a soft kiss before the hunger took over in him again. You kissed him back with just as much energy and neediness while rubbing your exposed cunt against his clothed dick.

"Need you! Need you so much daddy! Need you to fuck my pretty pussy!" With each word you were humping him harder. Cillian lifted you up and switched spots so your hips were hanging off the edge of the couch while he stood over you with the animalistic eyes and mouth hung open once he had your legs spread open and realized you had no panties.

"Yer spoilin me darlin!" You watched as Cillian got down on his knees in front of you and stared at your pussy like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, even though he's seen it so many times before.

His long fingers slid over your folds to gather your wetness and spread it around. A soft moan left your swollen lips as his fingers slowly twisted inside of you. "Oh daddy!" Your hips bucked forward before Cillian pressed down on them to hold you still while his fingers twisted in and out of you. His eyes stayed glued to yours watching how they switched from innocent to dirty. His mouth attached to your clit causing your fingers to grip onto his hair. Cillian moaned against your clit when you yanked his hair.

"So fucking pretty! Prettiest girl with the prettiest cunt!" The sound of him lapping his tongue along your folds back up to your clit before sucking on it with desire echoed throughout the living room. "And tis mine! All mine!" He mumbled into your pussy as you laid there pulling his hair, wrapping your legs around his head and pulling him in closer so you could feel him deeper inside of you.

Cillian looked up through his lashes as his hands wrapped around your thighs and held you close as he ate you out. Your eyes filled with tears as pleasure filled every ounce of your body.

"Oh my god daddy! Fuck me please! Fuck me with your fat cock! Please please please daddy!" You cried out and Cillian couldn't say no! Not when you were begging so well and being such a good girl for him.

"Good girl darlin! Usin yer big girl words." He pulled away slowly before giving your clit one last kiss before standing up to rid himself of his slacks. Once his pants and boxers were being flung across the room you looked down to see that his cock was painfully hard, leaking and dark red.

"It looks angry daddy! Probably because it's not in me!" You gave him the sweetest doe eyes possible as you held open your legs and cutest smile on your lips while your pussy drooled out arousel for him.

"Tats exactly it darlin!" Cillian spit on his hand before rubbing his cock for a minute and slowly sliding it inside of you with ease. Your mouth made the perfect O as you watched him slide it in.

"DADDY! You always feel so big inside of me!" Something took over Cillian and he didn't hold back. The way he leaned over top of you pushing every inch inside of you as your nose scrunched up, the way his forehead pressed into yours as he pulled your tits out of the lingerie , he was hot and heavy all over.

"Tats it baby, take me cock, good girl yes! Fuck!" His words were coming out with grunts that made you wetter by the second as he reached up, yanked your head down by your hair and made you watch as he fucked your harder. A bit of insecurity hit you when you seen your stomach folded which showed off a few rolls but that didn't stop Cillian ! It made him fuck you harder. Sweat dripped from his forehead against yours as you cried out his name.

"Fuck meee! Fuck yeah daddy!" You were clawing at his arms through his shirt as you felt the head of his cock hit your g-spot just right which made your eyes roll back into your head.

"My good girl! Fucking hell!" His thrusts were getting faster but more sloppy as he held you tight. Cillian made you look up at him as he yanked your head back by your hair and your eyes were filled with pleasure.

"Daddy! Stop! I have to pee!" You tried to push him off.

"That's fine darlin! Tis not what ya tink! Just relax and trust daddy yeah? Relax and let it go!" His thumb snaked its way down to your clit and he pushed hard against it before rubbing circles like a mad man. You didn't know what to think! Your body was agreeing to his touch and you felt your orgasm on the edge.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD!! OOOOH MY OOH GOD!" You cried out as you squirted against his cock. Cillian rubbed your clit through it as he looked at you with such pride. Your thighs felt extra sticky when your body collapsed against the couch.

"Good girl baby! Good girl! Now yer gonna take me cum!" His eyes rolled back as he pulled your limp body closer to his and grunted loudly before he squeezed your thighs as his own orgasm washed over him and filled you up to the fullest you could be.

"Merry Christmas daddy!" You panted softly as he slowly pulled out of you and scooped some of his cum up onto his fingers before slipping them into your eager little mouth.

"Best Christmas present every baby, tank you! Merry Christmas ." He watched as you cleaned his fingers before laying down next to you on the couch, wrapping his arm around you and giving you a warm kiss on the forehead.

[awordbroken]

what if i didn't write for nine months then spat out an oc/canon mistletoe kiss fic. haha j/k... unless?

All Colours Smear

"I came as soon as I got your message. I could hardly have come sooner." Crow Melusine frowns, unbuttoning their coat. "Just what was such a hurry?" "This!" With an indignant flourish, Mr Fires turns to show them its arm, where, in the crook of its elbow, a bundle of silken fur and leathery limbs clings to its robe sleeve, half a toy train crammed into its drooling maw. "Happy Christmas, Mr Transport," Crow Melusine says after a pregnant pause. "Is this why you called me? Because you're on babysitting duty?"

[squeakowl]

Sometimes a wild god comes to the table. He is awkward and does not know the ways Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver. His voice makes vinegar from wine. When the wild god arrives at the door, You will probably fear him. He reminds you of something dark That you might have dreamt, Or the secret you do not wish to be shared. He will not ring the doorbell; Instead he scrapes with his fingers Leaving blood on the paintwork, Though primroses grow In circles round his feet. You do not want to let him in. You are very busy. It is late, or early, and besides… You cannot look at him straight Because he makes you want to cry. Your dog barks; The wild god smiles. He holds out his hand and The dog licks his wounds, Then leads him inside. The wild god stands in your kitchen. Ivy is taking over your sideboard; Mistletoe has moved into the lampshades And wrens have begun to sing An old song in the mouth of your kettle. ‘I haven’t much,’ you say And give him the worst of your food. He sits at the table, bleeding. He coughs up foxes. There are otters in his eyes. When your wife calls down, You close the door and Tell her it’s fine. You will not let her see The strange guest at your table. The wild god asks for whiskey And you pour a glass for him, Then a glass for yourself. Three snakes are beginning to nest In your voicebox. You cough. Oh, limitless space. Oh, eternal mystery. Oh, endless cycles of death and birth. Oh, miracle of life. Oh, the wondrous dance of it all. You cough again, Expectorate the snakes and Water down the whiskey, Wondering how you got so old And where your passion went. The wild god reaches into a bag Made of moles and nightingale-skin. He pulls out a two-reeded pipe, Raises an eyebrow And all the birds begin to sing. The fox leaps into your eyes. Otters rush from the darkness. The snakes pour through your body. Your dog howls and upstairs Your wife both exults and weeps at once. The wild god dances with your dog. You dance with the sparrows. A white stag pulls up a stool And bellows hymns to enchantments. A pelican leaps from chair to chair. In the distance, warriors pour from their tombs. Ancient gold grows like grass in the fields. Everyone dreams the words to long-forgotten songs. The hills echo and the grey stones ring With laughter and madness and pain. In the middle of the dance, The house takes off from the ground. Clouds climb through the windows; Lightning pounds its fists on the table And the moon leans in. The wild god points to your side. You are bleeding heavily. You have been bleeding for a long time, Possibly since you were born. There is a bear in the wound. ‘Why did you leave me to die?’ Asks the wild god and you say: ‘I was busy surviving. The shops were all closed; I didn’t know how. I’m sorry.’ Listen to them: The fox in your neck and The snakes in your arms and The wren and the sparrow and the deer… The great un-nameable beasts In your liver and your kidneys and your heart… There is a symphony of howling. A cacophony of dissent. The wild god nods his head and You wake on the floor holding a knife, A bottle and a handful of black fur. Your dog is asleep on the table. Your wife is stirring, far above. Your cheeks are wet with tears; Your mouth aches from laughter or shouting. A black bear is sitting by the fire. Sometimes a wild god comes to the table. He is awkward and does not know the ways Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver. His voice makes vinegar from wine And brings the dead to life.

-- Tom Hirons, Sometimes a Wild God

[ladytanithia]

Sometimes a Wild God

by Tom Hirons

So beautiful and evocative, I had to share with all my writing friends. I grew up pagan, so I think of Herne, but fellow Skyrim fans will also think of Hircine.

@dirty-bosmer @gwilin-stay-winnin @mareenavee @skyrim-forever @thana-topsy @thechaosdragoness @thequeenofthewinter

Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.

He is awkward and does not know the ways

Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.

His voice makes vinegar from wine.

When the wild god arrives at the door,

You will probably fear him.

He reminds you of something dark

That you might have dreamt,

Or the secret you do not wish to be shared.

He will not ring the doorbell;

Instead he scrapes with his fingers

Leaving blood on the paintwork,

Though primroses grow

In circles round his feet.

You do not want to let him in.

You are very busy.

It is late, or early, and besides…

You cannot look at him straight

Because he makes you want to cry.

The dog barks.

The wild god smiles,

Holds out his hand.

The dog licks his wounds

And leads him inside.

The wild god stands in your kitchen.

Ivy is taking over your sideboard;

Mistletoe has moved into the lampshades

And wrens have begun to sing

An old song in the mouth of your kettle.

‘I haven’t much,’ you say

And give him the worst of your food.

He sits at the table, bleeding.

He coughs up foxes.

There are otters in his eyes.

When your wife calls down,

You close the door and

Tell her it’s fine.

You will not let her see

The strange guest at your table.

The wild god asks for whiskey

And you pour a glass for him,

Then a glass for yourself.

Three snakes are beginning to nest

In your voicebox. You cough.

Oh, limitless space.

Oh, eternal mystery.

Oh, endless cycles of death and birth.

Oh, miracle of life.

Oh, the wondrous dance of it all.

You cough again,

Expectorate the snakes and

Water down the whiskey,

Wondering how you got so old

And where your passion went.

The wild god reaches into a bag

Made of moles and nightingale-skin.

He pulls out a two-reeded pipe,

Raises an eyebrow

And all the birds begin to sing.

The fox leaps into your eyes.

Otters rush from the darkness.

The snakes pour through your body.

Your dog howls and upstairs

Your wife both exults and weeps at once.

The wild god dances with your dog.

You dance with the sparrows.

A white stag pulls up a stool

And bellows hymns to enchantments.

A pelican leaps from chair to chair.

In the distance, warriors pour from their tombs.

Ancient gold grows like grass in the fields.

Everyone dreams the words to long-forgotten songs.

The hills echo and the grey stones ring

With laughter and madness and pain.

In the middle of the dance,

The house takes off from the ground.

Clouds climb through the windows;

Lightning pounds its fists on the table.

The moon leans in through the window.

The wild god points to your side.

You are bleeding heavily.

You have been bleeding for a long time,

Possibly since you were born.

There is a bear in the wound.

‘Why did you leave me to die?’

Asks the wild god and you say:

‘I was busy surviving.

The shops were all closed;

I didn’t know how. I’m sorry.’

Listen to them:

The fox in your neck and

The snakes in your arms and

The wren and the sparrow and the deer…

The great un-nameable beasts

In your liver and your kidneys and your heart…

There is a symphony of howling.

A cacophony of dissent.

The wild god nods his head and

You wake on the floor holding a knife,

A bottle and a handful of black fur.

Your dog is asleep on the table.

Your wife is stirring, far above.

Your cheeks are wet with tears;

Your mouth aches from laughter or shouting.

A black bear is sitting by the fire.

Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.

He is awkward and does not know the ways

Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.

His voice makes vinegar from wine

And brings the dead to life.

Words: Tom Hirons at Coyopa - Tom's book, Sometimes a Wild God, which contains this and many other FINE examples of his wordsmithing is available via this link ---> http://shop.hedgespoken.org/products/sometimes-a-wild-god Please support artists & their work!

Art: Illustration by Janne Pitkanen & concept & photography by Harri Halme (from the album cover The Spirit of Ukko by Finnish band Kiuas)

[zetathelata]

SLW&SH Characters ( 126 - 145 )

Fact about my characters:

IIuvia is the character who broke rain's wing like arm. She has an friend named toki.

Leza is a plant cat furry. Also her wool like fur changes depending on what season it is. She doesn't talk at all, she prefers not to talk about it. Leza also has a brother named Mistletoe.

Della is rain's girlfriend. She spends time with leza even through leza doesn't say anything. She gets annoyed by Mistletoe, IIuvia, and mostly sunflower.

Mistletoe is Leza's brother. He has roommates named toki, sunflower, and the bug twins. He painted his claws. He also got his eye ripped out by the war. Della and Snowclaw is very annoyed of Mistletoe for some reason.

Toki is just an grumpy boi in his roommates apartment room. He spends most of his time on his phone.

Jota's bunny girlfriend named Ruta. When jota is walking on the ground, she grabs her out of nowhere.

Sunflower roommates are Mistletoe, Toki, and the bug twins. He sometimes paints, just like how Jean Pierre draws. He got his half of his legs ripped off by a non-star person in the war, when he was a kid.

Raven had a girlfriend named olive. He is very dramatic about hot things touching him, except his girlfriend.

Olive's boyfriend is raven. She likes to tease him with fire or other hot burning things to scare him for fun. Whatever you touch her hands or "hair," they burn you. But they won't burn if you wear clothes, then you're fine, but you'll feel warm. When olive and raven see jota, they treat her like their child. Even though jota has a human family.

Roja is Verde's sister, they like sweets very much, using their ladybug defense on random people for no reason, and lastly if they feel like it. Roja and Verde fuse together into a yellow ladybug.

Verde is Roja's sister. I was inspired by Asavt's Scisstape, so I added a purple tape band on Roja and a green band on Verde. Roja and Verde are known as the bug twins. They are roommates of sunflower, toki, and Mistletoe.

Titan is best friends with Willow and Colin. And they are way bigger than willow and colin.

Time was created by silhouette, so he can forgive the light star for attacking the sunlight warriors. He made time to be friends with the light star. But he disappeared because Nikki took him to star town ( which is located in star dreams ). Time is surprisingly ok with this. Even though he might never see the light star again. Tempo and him might be distant cousins ( Time is a clone of Tempo technically ). He is based of a bird and has a dripping halo just like amber.

Jota's last girlfriend is here! Out of the 6 girlfriends that jota hangs out with the most is lily, they hang out like as friends and love partners. What she likes to do shop for clothes ( both stores and mall ). And if jota bumps into lily, then she'll get all flirty with her until lily manages to trick jota to go to her place. Also she's taller than jota, so jota has tall girlfriends ( except mothy ).

Sunrise and Darla are lovers, ( they might get married, also that's the same for Sky and Arctic ). Sunrise is a abandoned robot that got possessed by the light star spirit, now she hates humans and is waiting for the robots to take over humanity.

Zeo likes to float and dash very fast, but when she spins around an electric pole for anything electric related that run around. Her body covers up in electricity and if you touch her, you will be hit with 999 bolts of electricity. That's enough bolts to give a star soul an small crack. Also she's based of a otamatone.

Darla is a drone girl who also got abandoned by humans, they didn't like her breaking up, so she doesn't really mind a light star spirit helping her function. She likes being with sunrise.

Nova, Mia, and Hearty hang out beatz most of the time. Nova is a zombie cat. She only wears the goggle for her one eye is because it keeps falling out, she can kinda see through it. This is the first time I ever drew organs.

Cherrybomb has a Mexican accent. She hangs out with beatz, Nova, and jota whatever they have karaokes nights. When Cherrybomb and jota are alone together they do Mexican dances, and then she starts kissing jota on the lips until her face is red. Cherrybomb knows what dirty desires jota wants her to do.

Venus hates talking about her past, so she's spends most of her time protecting Silvermoon.

[missfishersmurderpolls]

Round 2: Murder Under the Mistletoe vs Murder Most Scandalous

[ID 1: Screencap from Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries episode 'Murder Under the Mistletoe'. Phryne is shown from the waist up, standing in front of a fire place. The mantle is hung with colourful Christmas stockings. /End ID]

[ID 2: Screencap from Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries episode 'Murder Most Scandalous'. Phryne and Jack are shown in profile, close up. She appears to be sitting on his lap and his face is almost touching her chest. She looks down at him. /End ID]

Murder Under the Mistletoe and Murder Most Scandalous are our first episodes to make it to round 2 of our tournament to find the most ridiculous MFMM episode. Will fan feathers or furry hats win the day? Only your votes will tell.

Supporting statements:

2x13 - Murder Under the Mistletoe

Nominators say: "This is my favorite episode. 11/10 no complaints"

Who kills a bunch of people to the theme of a well known Christmas carol? The murderer gains +10000000 points for Being That Committed To The Bit.

Goofy sartorial choices: Phryne’s Santa Claus coat, ridiculous jumpers, ridiculous amount of fake fur on Phryne's hat.

A truly ludicrous plan from Nicholas to steal the gold.

2x1 - Murder Most Scandalous:

Nominators say: "FAN DANCING."

Phryne's undercover attempt is particularly ridiculous, especially the accent.

She tries to break into the club's office by climbing up the side of the building WITH A GRAPPLING HOOK. In heels!!! And then decides standing on a ledge several storeys up is a good way to get away from the woman pointing a gun at her???

How did Lola know Lavinia had been murdered before anyone else?

Swole priest lifting weights in church, for some reason.

[faewitchsdeities]

𝕱𝖗𝖊𝖞𝖆

𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊(𝖘): Freya, Valfreyja, Gefn, Hörn, Mardöll, Sýr, and Vanadís 𝕲𝖔𝖉 𝖔𝖋: Love, beauty, pleasure, battle and war 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 𝖉𝖆𝖞(𝖘): Thursday and Friday "Freya's day", Alfarblot (The first day of the winter), Beltane, and Laugnasadn 𝕽𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘: Daughter of Njord and either Skadi or Nerthus. Sister of Freyr, wife of Odr, and mother of Hnoss and Gersemi- her two daughters. 𝕰𝖓𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖊𝖘: the fire Jotunn Surtr- who is supposed to kill her brother in Ragnarok

𝕾𝖞𝖒𝖇𝖔𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖒- 𝕬𝖓𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖑(𝖘): Cat, goose, pig, falcon, cuckoos, sparrows, swallows, horses, lions, hares and bunnies, hawk, boar, oxen, lady bug 𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗: Love, beauty, sex, trance, brisingamen necklace, magic itself, her chariot, coat of feathers, the sea and the earth, Ursa minor and other constellations, distaff 𝕮𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖗(𝖘): White, red, pink, light blue, green, black, silver, gold, yellow 𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙: Air, Fire 𝕻𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖊𝖙: Moon (Full moon), Venus 𝖅𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖈𝖘: Capricorn, Leo 𝕾𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖆𝖗 𝕲𝖔𝖉𝖘: Athena and Aphrodite

𝕺𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘- Seeing your self worth and beauty, seeing the beauty around you, ritual sex. 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖇𝖘/𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖘: All fruity scented things Alder Apple Birch Bramble (blackberry) Cowslip Cypress Elder Feverfew Flax Flowers Mint Mistletoe Mugwort Primrose Rose Sandalwood Tansy Thyme Valerian Vervain Yarrow 𝕱𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖘: Bread Chocolate Honey Mead Pork Strawberries Wine 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘/𝖈𝖗𝖞𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖘/𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖘: Amber Carnelian Citrine Copper Emerald Fire Agate Gold Hawks eye Jade Malachite Moonstone Red Amber Red Jaspar Rose Quartz Ruby Silver Tourmaline (pink) 𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗: Weaponry symbolism, athame, metals and trophies, statues of Valkyries, lions, and cats, incense, perfume, jewelry (necklaces), poetry, art.

𝕴𝖓𝖛𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖐: Aids in spells for love, beauty, fertility, passion, wealth, abundance, sex, pleasure, war, battle, healing, sexuality, strength, death, as well as magic in general, helps with taking the dead to Valhalla ( I think specifically female warriors idk)

𝕬𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊: Depicted with long, flowing, red or blonde hair. A beautiful face, and a well endowed body. Usually in a long flowy dress wearing her cloak of falcon feathers, almost always wearing her necklace and sometimes a magic sword/staff and is seen with shields. (cough cough- just like Athena)

𝕷𝖔𝖗𝖊/𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘: ~The most renowned of the Norse goddesses. She ruled over love, fertility, battle, and death, as well as witches and magic in general. Her father was Njord; a sea god, and either Nerthus or Skadi. She was a beautiful goddess. -She traveled on a chariot lead by two cats and after they had served her for 7 years, she rewarded them by turning them into witches. -There once was a follower of Frey that lived in Midgard. He was an orphan names Ottar. He was very pious towards Freya and built a shrine of stone, a horgr/hearg (a type of altar or cult site, possibly consisting of a heap of stones), and made many offerings to her. The orphan had build a life for himself; with a plot of land- despite his upbringing. However- people began moving in on his land, and with his little to no connections he couldn't do much. Ottar was honest, wise, generous, and brave in the face of danger. One day, when he returned to his home, next to his altar -there stood Freya. She suggested he go with him on an adventure to Asgard. The awestruck Ottar simply nodded in agreement, and in an instant- Freya turned him into a ferocious looking boar with golden fur (quite similar to her brothers boar) On the way to Asgard, Freya stopped by and demanded that Volva -a sorceress- tell them of Ottar's ancestry. As the sorceress explains, Ottar was descended from noblemen, kings, and even gods. After spending a day in Asgard, dinning with the gods, they returned the Midgardian to his home. He lived an adventurous life from then on, before dying and going to Valhalla to dine with the gods once again.

-She was extremely drawn to the forge of the four dwarves named; Dvalinn, Alfrik, Berling, and Grer. She sees them making the finest necklace she'd ever seen, and is immediately filled with desire for the object. She offers them silver and gold for it but the dwarves refuse. They say that they will give it to her in exchange for each of them to get a night with her. The necklace was gorgeous, gleamed like the sun and called to her same as Mjollnir to Thor, both symbolizing her and embodying her power- so the goddess agreed. -She has a falcon feather coat -basically same as Frigg's- that allows the wearer to fly (usually as a falcon) this coat gets borrowed by Loki multiple times.

[north-star-dreamer-69]

Sometimes a Wild God.

Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.

He is awkward and does not know the ways

Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.

His voice makes vinegar from wine.

When the wild god arrives at the door,

You will probably fear him.

He reminds you of something dark

That you might have dreamt,

Or the secret you do not wish to be shared.

He will not ring the doorbell;

Instead he scrapes with his fingers

Leaving blood on the paintwork,

Though primroses grow

In circles round his feet.

You do not want to let him in.

You are very busy.

It is late, or early, and besides…

You cannot look at him straight

Because he makes you want to cry.

Your dog barks;

The wild god smiles.

He holds out his hand and

The dog licks his wounds,

Then leads him inside.

The wild god stands in your kitchen.

Ivy is taking over your sideboard;

Mistletoe has moved into the lampshades

And wrens have begun to sing

An old song in the mouth of your kettle.

‘I haven’t much,’ you say

And give him the worst of your food.

He sits at the table, bleeding.

He coughs up foxes.

There are otters in his eyes.

When your wife calls down,

You close the door and

Tell her it’s fine.

You will not let her see

The strange guest at your table.

The wild god asks for whiskey

And you pour a glass for him,

Then a glass for yourself.

Three snakes are beginning to nest

In your voicebox. You cough.

Oh, limitless space.

Oh, eternal mystery.

Oh, endless cycles of death and birth.

Oh, miracle of life.

Oh, the wondrous dance of it all.

You cough again,

Expectorate the snakes and

Water down the whiskey,

Wondering how you got so old

And where your passion went.

The wild god reaches into a bag

Made of moles and nightingale-skin.

He pulls out a two-reeded pipe,

Raises an eyebrow

And all the birds begin to sing.

The fox leaps into your eyes.

Otters rush from the darkness.

The snakes pour through your body.

Your dog howls and upstairs

Your wife both exults and weeps at once.

The wild god dances with your dog.

You dance with the sparrows.

A white stag pulls up a stool

And bellows hymns to enchantments.

A pelican leaps from chair to chair.

In the distance, warriors pour from their tombs.

Ancient gold grows like grass in the fields.

Everyone dreams the words to long-forgotten songs.

The hills echo and the grey stones ring

With laughter and madness and pain.

In the middle of the dance,

The house takes off from the ground.

Clouds climb through the windows;

Lightning pounds its fists on the table

And the moon leans in.

The wild god points to your side.

You are bleeding heavily.

You have been bleeding for a long time,

Possibly since you were born.

There is a bear in the wound.

‘Why did you leave me to die?’

Asks the wild god and you say:

‘I was busy surviving.

The shops were all closed;

I didn’t know how. I’m sorry.’

Listen to them:

The fox in your neck and

The snakes in your arms and

The wren and the sparrow and the deer…

The great un-nameable beasts

In your liver and your kidneys and your heart…

There is a symphony of howling.

A cacophony of dissent.

The wild god nods his head and

You wake on the floor holding a knife,

A bottle and a handful of black fur.

Your dog is asleep on the table.

Your wife is stirring, far above.

Your cheeks are wet with tears;

Your mouth aches from laughter or shouting.

A black bear is sitting by the fire.

Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.

He is awkward and does not know the ways

Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.

His voice makes vinegar from wine

And brings the dead to life.

~ Tom Hirons

[primordialsoundmeditation]

I did not write this poem... but I wish I had. It is wonderfully written and rich in imagery. It's inspiring.

***

Sometimes a Wild God

By: Tom Hirons - Poet and Storyteller

Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.

He is awkward and does not know the ways

Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.

His voice makes vinegar from wine.

When the wild god arrives at the door,

You will probably fear him.

He reminds you of something dark

That you might have dreamt,

Or the secret you do not wish to be shared.

He will not ring the doorbell;

Instead he scrapes with his fingers

Leaving blood on the paintwork,

Though primroses grow

In circles round his feet.

You do not want to let him in.

You are very busy.

It is late, or early, and besides…

You cannot look at him straight

Because he makes you want to cry.

The dog barks.

The wild god smiles,

Holds out his hand.

The dog licks his wounds

And leads him inside.

The wild god stands in your kitchen.

Ivy is taking over your sideboard;

Mistletoe has moved into the lampshades

And wrens have begun to sing

An old song in the mouth of your kettle.

‘I haven’t much,’ you say

And give him the worst of your food.

He sits at the table, bleeding.

He coughs up foxes.

There are otters in his eyes.

When your wife calls down,

You close the door and

Tell her it’s fine.

You will not let her see

The strange guest at your table.

The wild god asks for whiskey

And you pour a glass for him,

Then a glass for yourself.

Three snakes are beginning to nest

In your voicebox. You cough.

Oh, limitless space.

Oh, eternal mystery.

Oh, endless cycles of death and birth.

Oh, miracle of life.

Oh, the wondrous dance of it all.

You cough again,

Expectorate the snakes and

Water down the whiskey,

Wondering how you got so old

And where your passion went.

The wild god reaches into a bag

Made of moles and nightingale-skin.

He pulls out a two-reeded pipe,

Raises an eyebrow

And all the birds begin to sing.

The fox leaps into your eyes.

Otters rush from the darkness.

The snakes pour through your body.

Your dog howls and upstairs

Your wife both exults and weeps at once.

The wild god dances with your dog.

You dance with the sparrows.

A white stag pulls up a stool

And bellows hymns to enchantments.

A pelican leaps from chair to chair.

In the distance, warriors pour from their tombs.

Ancient gold grows like grass in the fields.

Everyone dreams the words to long-forgotten songs.

The hills echo and the grey stones ring

With laughter and madness and pain.

In the middle of the dance,

The house takes off from the ground.

Clouds climb through the windows;

Lightning pounds its fists on the table.

The moon leans in through the window.

The wild god points to your side.

You are bleeding heavily.

You have been bleeding for a long time,

Possibly since you were born.

There is a bear in the wound.

‘Why did you leave me to die?’

Asks the wild god and you say:

‘I was busy surviving.

The shops were all closed;

I didn’t know how. I’m sorry.’

Listen to them:

The fox in your neck and

The snakes in your arms and

The wren and the sparrow and the deer…

The great un-nameable beasts

In your liver and your kidneys and your heart…

There is a symphony of howling.

A cacophony of dissent.

The wild god nods his head and

You wake on the floor holding a knife,

A bottle and a handful of black fur.

Your dog is asleep on the table.

Your wife is stirring, far above.

Your cheeks are wet with tears;

Your mouth aches from laughter or shouting.

A black bear is sitting by the fire.

Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.

He is awkward and does not know the ways

Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.

His voice makes vinegar from wine

And brings the dead to life.

***

Art: Andrew Ferez

Tara Shannon

[applesofdaventry]

Eagle Feathers and Dreaming Weather

or; an alternate game over.

Or or: The fowllacy of man.

Special thanks to @goddessoftechnology for encouraging mine antics :)

--

The thing was. ...The thing was, was that flying, flying ever so high up into the sky was near addicting to him. Up there, it was as though all of his worries could float away into the clouds. Up there, Manannan couldn’t get him. Of course, he would have to go back down eventually, but he could pretend, for a little while, couldn’t he? The wizard had been going on longer and longer trips, so he felt safe going on this flight around Llewdor, the longest he’s done yet.

As he descended on the thermals back towards the manor, back towards where he was just a slave, amounting to nothing. He thought longingly of the next opportunity he would have to go on an outing. He was so close to figuring out that cat cookie. He had the missing page, and all he was missing was a mandrake root. He would have to try looking eastward on his next journey. His eyesight as an eagle, too, was much sharper than when he was a man. He looked down at the manor as he approached. There was someone standing there, on the little foot path made by the treading of feet over long long years between the house and the chicken pen. It was Manannan. He had a look of utter fury on his face. Gwydion tried to fly away, but couldn’t. Manannan roared something in pure fury, he couldn’t understand it amongst the panicked beating of his heart. Manannan raised his arms… and then something hit him.

The eagle screeched in panic. It was falling, but, it managed to get its wings back under control. There was a robed figure below it who was rubbing his hands in satisfaction. Weirdo. The eagle winged away. Something told it to go east. It did so.

There was a massive spider, and the eagle felt something like disgust so it took the spider and threw it into the ocean. When it returned to look for more spiders it saw another robed figure. She said something to it. It screeched at her. She looked impossibly sad before saying something else and then it hurt. It hurt, it tried to scream. It couldn’t. It tried to say the words to turn back. Nothing happened. He screeched in fear, in pain. The lady said something again, frantic. He couldn’t turn back why couldn’t he turn back. Thinking was hard, and listening harder, and why couldn’t he turn back? The spell was temporary the book said so. If he doesn’t transform back into himself, the spell would wear off after some time. He can’t turn himself back. Maybe he has to wait? But thinking of that brought dread, deeper and starker than any of the pain. The lady was still speaking to him. Why? He tried to listen.

“… Daventry…” The only word he could make out was Daventry. What was Daventry? Was it a kind of prey? No, no he was a person not a bird. Was Daventry a place? That sounded right but why Daventry?

He tried the counterspell again. Eagle begone, myself, return! It hurt. He was puffed up, as big as he could be. He felt smaller. He was scared. The lady was gone. Daventry. Daventry. What was he doing before this? He was doing… magic. He was collecting ingredients. What was he collecting? A small feather, a tuft of fur… an unusually smooth stone, dried mistletoe… the ocean. Mud. Lard and cactus and mandrake. They were used for something… he couldn’t remember. He started repeating these in his mind. It still hurt. There was a big ship underneath him now. He landed on the tallest part. A man screamed and tried to chase him away. He bit the man. The man left him alone, after that. He then slept. It was not peaceful. But it was not a nightmare. He wasn’t in pain in it, but there was fire. Fire as far as he could see. There was a puddle of clear water, almost the last in the land. He needed a spoonful of mud. But there were no spoons.

When he awoke, it was to the man from earlier glowering at him. He screeched and left. The man shook his fist at him and yelled something, another weird person. He didn’t matter though, he definitely wasn’t a Daventry. He flew east, or maybe west, he wasn’t sure. But there was now an island below him, it had plant life tangled and gnarled but rich in substance. Maybe he could figure out what a Daventry was there. He perched himself in a tree to survey the area. It still hurt. There was a small field of rocks, though none were smooth or of unusual color. There were other, smaller birds, and he could see a snake lying in wait. He settled in to birdwatch, there was no hurry, and he could run over the important things again while watching the snake watch a rabbit.

[cryptidclaw]

Shriketail!

Pre-Blinding version v

Design Notes:

I gave him a less Oriental shorthair inspired body type this time since he's adopted instead of Downnose's bio-kit now and and I need to stop myself from making too many Thunder cats have Wind Order type builds LOL. TBH I think this design looks more like how in envision him anyways!

Character Bio:

Shriketail

(Longtail)

Gay; he/him

Age as of 1st arc's beginning: 11 moons; 15 Hyrs

Age as of 1st arc's end: 2 cycles, 8 moons; ~26 Hyrs

Title meaning: -tail =  a cat with great balance and who always lands on their feet; often a jack of all trades as balance is used in almost every skill

Warrior of Thunder Order; he was the unofficial Second/acting Second for a while after Sandstorm's presumed death, but he never wanted the full position and was happy to return to normal Warrior duties once Fire chose a new Second.

Mentor: Darkstripe

Mother (adoptive): Downnose

Mate: Star Firesight

Queer Platonic Partner: Sandstorm

Kits: Squirrelflight (sire: Sand); Leafpool; Foxleap (sire: Sand); Icecloud

Grandkits: Star Hollyleaf; Falconstrike; Jaywing; Alderheart; Sparkfire

Other notable kin (Note! Shrike is adopted so none of his kin is related by blood!): Cricketstep (uncle); Star Ravenscourge (uncle); Dustpelt (uncle); Cloudtail (cousin); Snowshoe (cousin); Mistletoe (cousin); Spiderleg (cousin); Shrew (cousin)

Character Summary:

In Progress (to be added later)

...

[Image 1 ID: a digital drawing of Shriketail, an AU version of Longtail from Warrior Cats. He is standing with his left side showing and a cocky, determined grin of his face. He is a slender, short furred, light brown tabby tom with black stripes and a white underbelly, legs and lower face. His face has pink jagged scars running over his eyes and across his face and is eyes are are cloudy blue with pink surrounding the pupils. s left ear is torn at the tip, his nose is light pink and he has a spikey tuft of black hair on his head simulating bangs./End ID]

[Image 2 ID: a digital drawing of Shriketail, an AU version of Longtail from Warrior Cats. This image is the same as the previous one, but he has no scars on his face, and his eyes are not cloudy./End ID]

[sugardanny]

Sometimes a Wild God by Tom Hirons

Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.

He is awkward and does not know the ways

Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.

His voice makes vinegar from wine.

When the wild god arrives at the door,

You will probably fear him.

He reminds you of something dark

That you might have dreamt,

Or the secret you do not wish to be shared.

He will not ring the doorbell;

Instead he scrapes with his fingers

Leaving blood on the paintwork,

Though primroses grow

In circles round his feet.

You do not want to let him in.

You are very busy.

It is late, or early, and besides…

You cannot look at him straight

Because he makes you want to cry.

The dog barks.

The wild god smiles,

Holds out his hand.

The dog licks his wounds

And leads him inside.

The wild god stands in your kitchen.

Ivy is taking over your sideboard;

Mistletoe has moved into the lampshades

And wrens have begun to sing

An old song in the mouth of your kettle.

‘I haven’t much,’ you say

And give him the worst of your food.

He sits at the table, bleeding.

He coughs up foxes.

There are otters in his eyes.

When your wife calls down,

You close the door and

Tell her it’s fine.

You will not let her see

The strange guest at your table.

The wild god asks for whiskey

And you pour a glass for him,

Then a glass for yourself.

Three snakes are beginning to nest

In your voicebox. You cough.

Oh, limitless space.

Oh, eternal mystery.

Oh, endless cycles of death and birth.

Oh, miracle of life.

Oh, the wondrous dance of it all.

You cough again,

Expectorate the snakes and

Water down the whiskey,

Wondering how you got so old

And where your passion went.

The wild god reaches into a bag

Made of moles and nightingale-skin.

He pulls out a two-reeded pipe,

Raises an eyebrow

And all the birds begin to sing.

The fox leaps into your eyes.

Otters rush from the darkness.

The snakes pour through your body.

Your dog howls and upstairs

Your wife both exults and weeps at once.

The wild god dances with your dog.

You dance with the sparrows.

A white stag pulls up a stool

And bellows hymns to enchantments.

A pelican leaps from chair to chair.

In the distance, warriors pour from their tombs.

Ancient gold grows like grass in the fields.

Everyone dreams the words to long-forgotten songs.

The hills echo and the grey stones ring

With laughter and madness and pain.

In the middle of the dance,

The house takes off from the ground.

Clouds climb through the windows;

Lightning pounds its fists on the table.

The moon leans in through the window.

The wild god points to your side.

You are bleeding heavily.

You have been bleeding for a long time,

Possibly since you were born.

There is a bear in the wound.

‘Why did you leave me to die?’

Asks the wild god and you say:

‘I was busy surviving.

The shops were all closed;

I didn’t know how. I’m sorry.’

Listen to them:

The fox in your neck and

The snakes in your arms and

The wren and the sparrow and the deer…

The great un-nameable beasts

In your liver and your kidneys and your heart…

There is a symphony of howling.

A cacophony of dissent.

The wild god nods his head and

You wake on the floor holding a knife,

A bottle and a handful of black fur.

Your dog is asleep on the table.

Your wife is stirring, far above.

Your cheeks are wet with tears;

Your mouth aches from laughter or shouting.

A black bear is sitting by the fire.

Sometimes a wild god comes to the table.

He is awkward and does not know the ways

Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver.

His voice makes vinegar from wine

And brings the dead to life.

[shadowbunnydragon]

To Russell, Sarah, Lily, Bailey, Walter: How was your first Christmas in the new world and with your new families for some?

Russel: "Before I came here, Christmas was kinda... tense... or even something with a lot of screaming... But Christmas with the Spitz's was awesome! I got to help set up the strings of lights around the outside of the house in the days leading up! There were gifts for me and my new foster brothers and sisters waiting for us under the tree! After opening them, we all went outside and made snow mammals. Erik and Roger and Jackson came over, and we all had a snowball fight! Mrs. Spitz made cookies and hot chocolate for everyone, and we all spent time with each other in the living room, a warm fire going in the fireplace! It was like something out of a dream... I never thought I could ever have a Christmas like that..."

Sarah: "Oh! Mommy and Daddy made me and Elijah and Elliot our own matching sweaters! Mommy made mine thicker though, 'cause she was worried I'd get colder 'cause I don't have fur. Then, on Christmas, me and my big brothers got to get up and see what Santa brought us! He got me a pretty pink princess castle with little dollies that go inside! Elijah got a cool toy tank that transforms into a robot with a sword! And Elliot loves his new paint supplies! I'm real glad that Santa could find me this year! Mama, my old mama from before, told me that Santa always got lost before getting to our house. And that's why I never got any presents on Christmas before." Happily plays with a bright pink castle while Mr. and Mrs. Otterton exchange a worried look behind her.

Lily: "It was just so lovely. Renato and I exchanged gifts, and even found ourselves under the mistletoe quite a few times... though I think that a certain sly feline was simply moving it when I wasn't looking... not that I mind. We stayed in bed... ahem... cuddling before finally heading out for a picnic out in this lovely oasis in Sahara Square that is actually right against the district border with Tundratown, and rather pleasantly cool, compared to the rest of the scorching desert. There, we FaceChatted with Renato's family, who couldn't make it out to Zootopia this year. We're thinking of making the Christmas picnic a fun little tradition for us, and bringing the rest of his family along next year!"

Baily: "Sophia invited me over to her family home for Christmas, and I got to enjoy a large home-cooked meal with her family. Keith really knows how to make a turkey! Leodore showed up late with Sophia's aunt, and got a bit... tipsy. He proceeded to offend a few of Sophia's family, before he started... sobbing and then left... only to pass out in the bushes right outside the front door... But aside from that, it was just the best Christmas I can ever remember!"

Walter: "Christmas is actually a pretty... lonely time of year for me normally. But this year... Jack kinda invited himself... and all his family over to my place... without telling me first. He did so when he found out about my plans to just spend the holiday alone... and then pretty much just broke in to let a swarm of hares inside to decorate and bring food and gifts. Granted, the Savages are all really nice and... definitely not cute. Nope, not at all. And apparently Jack invited Skye over and proceeded to set up mistletoe in strategic locations for her and him to 'casually' walk under. Overall... it was nice."

[taughtcruelty]

[ TACKLE ]:    sender physically tackles the receiver during a fight.

THERE’S TOO MANY HUNTERS, TOO MANY CORPSES OF ALLIES & ENEMIES ALIKE strewn across a blood-soaked parking lot. tory can smell blood, gunpowder, death, anger & fear. the sharp acrid tastes of wolfsbane, mountain ash & mistletoe choke her senses, making it hard to focus. the choking smoke from the fire nearby doesn’t help make anything better, either.

at this point, she’s knee-deep in multiple warm corpses of their enemies. no one important from their pack has died, but a handful of wolves from the darst pack (an ally of emile’s) have died, & so have a handful of chris argent & johnny’s hunting friends. there’s blood soaking in her shoes, stained on her ripped, gunpowder-streaked clothes. her claws & fangs are bloodied, aching, but she’s not on the ground in pain. there’s blood caked in the roots of her hair from being kicked in the head earlier in the fight, but nova swooped in to rescue her from that. the teen boy who kicked her is dead on the pavement a few feet away, his jugular ripped out by ciro, his face charred by his hellhound’s fire. tory’s training thanks to emile & her sharp instincts are keeping her alive. her friends & mates are fighting for their lives - & for each other.

despite this, their pack still remain surrounded. allison’s hunters just keep appearing. it’s like they’re fighting a damn hydra - one dies, two more take the dead’s place.

tory’s been doing her best to keep an eye on sam, miguel, nova, scarlett & cosima. nova roars from somewhere off to tory’s right, & miguel bares his fangs as he kicks away a hunter with all of his might, elbowing another one in the face when the hunter tries to grab sam by her shoulders. their pack is hellbent on killing allison, her hunters, & their fucking deranged fur traders. ethan’s somewhere inside of the abandoned-warehouse-turned-slaughterhouse, but the complex was set ablaze under the top brass’s - allison’s - orders. everyone can sense that ethan’s bond with them has been waining. it’s making both tory & miguel incredibly fucking nervous. they don’t know if he’s stuck somewhere, unable to get out. it’s why theo, charlie, emma, icarus & emile’s werewolf pack are closest to the building right now, only about a football field’s length away from the side door because the front door is practically melted, trying to get in to rescue ethan & the handful of other innocent, kidnapped werecreatures. but they’re locked in a bloody battle with allison herself & her family’s hunters right now. tory can’t see tell who is winning that fight & who is losing right now.

the sound of a pistol cocking goes off from tory’s left, & the blonde doesn’t have any time to spin around before she feels someone tackle her, a snarl of anger leaving her lips instinctively. her world briefly careens to the side, & she winds up landing on her back on the pavement, but the gun goes off in that next millisecond, the bullet whistling through the air over their heads. her clawed hands immediately press against a pair of shoulders, ready to throw the assailant off her with all of her strength. she’s working purely on adrenaline & fear. she settles down enough to realize that it’s @taughtpain. her mate’s eyes are wide, & so are her anger filled ones. she instinctively checks him over for any life-threatening injuries, even with all of the chaos erupting around them. ethan wouldn’t be able to calm himself down if any of them got hurt. once he gets out of the complex okay ( & he will, he has to ), & after they’ve fought off allison & her band of hunters, he’ll immediately want to make sure that they’re all okay.

a pathetically soft whimper of pain sounds from where she’d been standing seconds ago. tory looks over. embedded in the forehead of one of allison’s hunters is a wolfsbane-laced bullet. the girl is about her height. tory’s eyes widen slightly. she feels nausea well up inside of her. if robby didn’t tackle her, that dead wolf could have been her. suddenly, nova appears behind the hunter who’d fired off the gun, & she punches her clawed fist clean through the teen’s chest, killing the boy instantly. her sister doesn’t even wait for the body to fully drop before she pulls out the heart, dropping it onto the ground, only adding to the blood staining the pavement. she quickly checks on tory to make sure she’s okay. tory’s eyes are still wide, but she’s unharmed. nova looks relieved, then she spins around, jumping right back into the battle with a newfound sense of rage filling her entire body.

❝ robby, i-i- ❞ tory begins shakily, staring up at one of her mates with wide eyes, but miguel’s growl of alarm cuts her off. miguel is standing back-to-back with sam now, & tory watches as his sharp claws arc down one of the hunters’ shirts with a brutal swipe, kicking the man’s leg out from underneath him. his eyes are glowing yellow, mouth full of fangs.

❛ ethan just told me he’s trapped in one of the back rooms of the complex. the fire is keeping him from escaping, & it’s getting worse. ❜ miguel tells his partners telepathically, barely taking a breath. tory’s eyes widen with pure fear at the news, & she quickly stands up on shaky legs. ethan’s bond wavers badly, & tory feels like throwing up. ❛ fuck. ❜ she curses, then leaps forward to knock a crossbow out of an approaching hunter’s hands. she doesn’t hesitate to punch that same man square in his face with all of her strength. he stumbles back in pain & tory doesn’t hesitate. she rips the man’s throat out with her claws in a messy, brutal display of speed, accuracy & strength. the man dies with a choked gargle, & tory shoves the dead body away from her & robby. the blonde quickly accesses her telepathic bonds with the whole pack.

❛ i’m going in there to get him. ❜ there’s immediate protest from nova, scarlett & cosima, along with scott & derek & a handful of others too, but tory ignores them. ❛ i’m faster & more agile than most of you combined. i need to save my mate. ❜ she explains, like it’s the only option - & it sort of is. because of her jaguar side, she’s one of the fastest members of the pack as a whole - she knows she’s the only logical choice. nova, too, but she’s more brutal when it comes to fighting, even more so than tory herself. the pack needs her here, defending the pack & taking care of their enemies. tory can rescue ethan.

❛ i’ll go with you to get ethan, tory. ❜ ciro immediately speaks up. tory doesn’t protest. hellhounds are immune to any type of fire, even their own that they can naturally generate. they’re also much stronger than the average werecreature, which makes him perfect to clear any burning debris in the building that tory wouldn’t be able to get near, let alone pick up even with her strength. ❛ the building’s unstable, so we need to not focus on fighting anyone, just getting there. icarus, emma & charlie can cover us if anyone tries to stop us. ❜ he urges. the three in question suddenly teleport next to them, where they’d been fighting allison’s hunters seconds before. tory nods, then quickly turns towards robby.

❝ i’ll be okay. ❞ she blurts out to him, confident in her abilities despite the daunting task ahead of her. even in the middle of battle, tory thinks that robby’s never looked more handsome. she doesn’t hesitate before her hands come up, claws quickly flicking back into her nail-beds, leaving her regular human fingertips. she cups robby’s cheeks gently, looking into his eyes. ❝ i love you, robby. ❞ she murmurs, then surges forward to crush her lips against his own for a brief moment, the blood on her lips & her own resting in her own mouth be damned. just in case. she thinks to herself, then quickly pulls back. ❝ i’ll be back as soon as i can. with ethan. ❞ she promises him just as ciro makes his way over to them. his eyes are glowing orange, & he’s unharmed. the hellhound nods at robby, silently letting him know that he’ll protect tory no matter what.