#I can't get over the idea of a kicking werewolf

[megistusdiary]

*clears my throat, takes a drink of water, and opens a scroll*

ahem.

hear ye, hear ye, it tis i, 👑 anon, here to formally request another delectable helping of thine vampire arlecchino works? i do in fact realize that it tis not the tenth month, but why let that deter us? your vampire works are simply magnificent, dear fellow!

i hath been conjuring up an idea in my cranium and it has been floating around inside there for quite some time, you see.

*drops scroll*

anyways, lemme cut to the chase here- the idea is this: werewolf reader x vampire arlecchino where they're both switches and they kinda have to fight for dominance for a bit before arle eventually overpowers the reader 👀 the rest is completely up to you, im down to read anything that you write 🙏

before i end this off i just wanna say rq that i love your works and as a writer i look up to you a lot even though ive been writing for quite some time. ty and have a nice day/evening/night 💕

the way this made me kick my feet and giggle... omg

i am so glad you enjoy vampire!arle, she's one of my favorites!!! i'd be happy to write some more for her

(also, that means so much to me, and i want you to know how honored i feel 🙏 and, welcome 👑 anon ♡♡)

(nsfw utc - tw switch!arle, werewolf!reader)

it has been said countless times, and in many forms of literature (even the ones for humans) that vampires and werewolves do not mix.

obviously, arlecchino can't quite get used to your dog smell. and you can't quite get used to how cold her skin feels.

nevertheless, you've found each other to be quite... agreeable as time has passed. you've come to seek her out, enjoying the time spent with her. she's done the same, thinking about you long after you've left for the evening.

things have progressed rather interestingly in your relationship, though. you seek one another out not only as friends, but as partners. you've found solace in her arms at night, just as she has in yours.

some nights seem to have you needing each other even more than others, full moons, in particular.

tonight, you have her on her back, your body hovering over hers. the effects of the moon have some of your more wolfish characteristics popping out. your eyes look strange, teeth growing into sharp points, nails growing out and poking holes into your bedsheets.

her bright red eyes meet your yellow-hued ones, but before she can speak, you wrap a hand around her throat, effectively cutting her off.

her hand grips yours, a silent warning you ignore with a smug smirk before smashing your lips onto hers. it's messy; teeth and tongue clashing as you fight her for dominance. it leaves you panting, spit trailing onto your skin as your tongue slides over hers.

she rolls you over, now sitting on top of you as she lets your tongue stay in her mouth. she gently nips at your lip, hearing your involuntary whimper. your hand slides off her neck from this position, causing her to gain the advantage as she grips your chin and pulls away.

"just what exactly do you think you're doing?" she asks and you groan at her, trying to pull away.

"it's a full moon! obviously, you know how this-"

she cuts you off by gripping your throat with inhuman speed, squeezing just enough to silence you. "i know what? that you're just a dumb, overgrown puppy who needs to be put back in her place? is that it?" her voice is low and dangerous, thumb sliding over your throat.

she glances at your panties, seeing you've soaked right through them and she glares up at you. "what a slut." she chastises you, tugging the fabric down anyways. she admires the slick connecting them to you before she tosses them away.

you gain back control once more, flipping her over and kissing her, your hand sliding down into her own panties, fingers rubbing over her pussy. she grunts, head falling back into the pillows as your fingers slide into her.

she allows you to play your little game just long enough to bring her to the brink of orgasm. then, you find yourself on your back once more, this time with your ass perked up. she spanks you hard, reprimanding you for bratty behavior.

her fingers find your cunt, harshly slapping your clit before sliding two fingers into you, feeling you tighten up so easily around them.

she mumbles into your ear, all sorts of filthy words as she fucks you on her fingers, pussy fluttering around her. the palm of her hand grinds into your clit, and she guides you to your orgasm only to bite into your shoulder.

you practically scream for her, blood dripping down your skin as she sinks her teeth deeper into you. she grunts, licking over the wounds as you come down from your high. "i detest the taste of most wolves, though it evades me how you, of all of them, could taste so... delectable."

she looks down at you as you pant, head lolling to the side as she peels her own panties off. she tugs you to look at her, slowly inching up your body to position her pussy over your mouth. "go on, mutt."

[danthekickingman]

Was doing drawpile drawings with era, and ended up doodling a design for a monster AU for Dan

Probably hunts monsters for kicks. Might also be a werewolf.

[cassiusfen]

This isn't my art, (it's made by @ TheHearthFox over on Twitter) but I wanted to make a long post about why this work in particular speaks to me so goddamn much. I think such a massive part of the queer experience -- and also the furry experience -- is about the abstract. This can be seen in so many different aspects of furry "culture," from the concept of fursonas to kink and and other fetish content. You and I will never know what it's like to be a werewolf and transform under the full moon into the form of a big hulking furry beast. However, us furries create art and other works about the idea of it anyway. We never will be able to be our fursonas -- our often idealized and "perfect" versions of ourselves -- and part of that really hurts. It hurts so bad honestly, to the point where I can't quite put it into words. In terms of queer culture, I will never know what it is like to be a cis woman, and that also messes with me a lot. Yet, I'm still trans, my identity can change, I can perceive myself as whatever I damn well please. Identity allows you to shape yourself and the world around you in your own image, even if not everyone can see its beauty.

We have ways to get at least somewhat close to how we feel in our abstraction. VRChat allows you to make an avatar of what ever you want, whether it's your fursona or just an ideal version of you. Hell, it doesn't even have to be you, it could be anyone or anything really. We have a whole industry based around creating big ass costumes that allow people to at least look something like their desired character. But it's not enough. It's never enough. I ain't religious, but sometimes I feel like I've bitten the apple, been kicked out of the garden, and now I'm left to fend for myself with an identity that my physicality will never match. When I made my fursona using an avatar base in vrchat and configured it to match my real world body scales and looked down, I honestly started crying. I take the headset off, and I'm still me. Everyone takes the headset or fursuit off and they're still the body they were given, not what they would choose. Our reality is objective, and there's no way to really change that. We can act like animal people online all day, but the moment that screen shuts off, the moment we walk away, that warm, fuzzy feeling (hehe) fades.

To think abstract is to think beyond what you can normally sense. You will never get to brush the knots out of your fur in the morning, or play with your antennae while anxious (I see you bug people). We can still have those ideas, however. I know I'm on the third goddamn paragraph and I'm just now talking about the artwork I linked but this is an important concept to me. Usually, when I think of the abstract, it feels unreal, "fuzzy" so to speak. However, in HearthFox's piece, the objective reality appears out of focus and pixelated. It feels like even if we are unable to fully embrace the abstract, we can still embrace what we can of it, and bring some sort of color to a world that doesn't feel like it is made for us. The colors being outside of the lines could suggest that our abstract perception is maybe just "painted on" to the world around us, but is that a bad thing? Is it bad to take things in from the world around you, but still look at it all in your own unique way? I think not. This also isn't only about therian identity, or furry identity, or even queer identity -- it's also about neurodivergence. You are never in the wrong for thinking about the world in a way that is viewed as "non-standard" by the rest of the world. If you see yourself as a wolf, bee, fox, bear, raccoon, a fucking plane, it's not a bad thing. We can still identify however we want, and this modern way of looking at identity is the best way for us to embrace the abstract.

Go wild, go fucking stupid. Love yourself, if you're a fox, be a fox, there are ways you can feel that way, even if it's not all of the time. We can fight, we can love, we can still find ways to elation, even if sometimes existence itself feels wrong to you. This work is but one side of abstract thinking. Look at the color the fox has compared to the objective. Look how the fur drapes, how it runs down the body, or how the snout expresses emotion. Sometimes it feels melancholic, but you cannot tell me that trying your absolute damnedest to live your identity doesn't at least bring some color to your otherwise dreary and unfocused world.

Stay safe, love yourself no matter what.

[lazycats-stuff]

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night?

I was wondering if I could request a Batfam x Male reader who is Bruce's son (adopted or biological your choice) while out on patrol he gets either attcked by a strangely large dog or some villain injects him with some weird serum? He ends up with a super high fever as his body makes adjustments/changes (example his senses suddenly and painfully heightening) he's becoming a werewolf. Once reader is past the fever/beginning of the curse and are going back to normal life things are drastically different they feel more agitated, aggressive, stronger, restless and oh god the fear what has happened to them? What if they hurt someone they love? (You can decide if their eyes, teeth, claws change with moods)

I can and I will. Oh, this felt so amazing to write. And also a different gif for this oneshot. Maybe I will even write a part 2, who knows?

Summary: (Y/N) didn't believe in vampires and werewolves, but with from a bite of a big dog, he is forced to think about it.

Warnings: Mentions of rabies, blood, (Y/N) being sick and in pain, Bruce being in pain too, shifting, Bruce being scared for his son, medical inaccuracies, swearing

(Y/N) huffed as he watched over the city. Jason and him were perched over the roof, simply resting and eating the snacks from their pockets.

" What is the huffing for? " Jason asked his younger brother. He could tell that something was bothering (Y/N).

" I'm just worried about school, that's all. "

" School is a pretty wide term, you need to narrow it down. "

(Y/N) looked away for a moment, then blushed.

" There is someone then, " Jason said with a teasing tone, patting (Y/N)'s shoulder.

" If I tell you, you can't tell anyone else. If you do, sleep with one eye open. " (Y/N) threatened Jason.

" My lips are sealed. "

" Pinky promise? " (Y/N) asked, knowing that Jason was weak on that promise. He extended his pinky to Jason, who curled his pinky with (Y/N)'s.

" Pinky promise. " (Y/N) nodded and then they let go.

" Okay, so there is this guy... I'm sure he is straight, but he is so nice to me. And he didn't become my friend because I'm Bruce Wayne's son. "

Jason nodded. (Y/N) was good at reading people and their intentions. He was just a natural at it, didn't need much pointers.

" So the problem is that you think he is straight? "

" Yes. But I'm not sure. There is no evidence that he has been with guys. Just girls. And it makes me feel frustrated. "

" I think that we are all allergic to this, but how about talking? " Jason proposed the idea, making (Y/N) roll his eyes.

" Okay, normal conversation is out of the question. "

" And since when you are the one to talk about communication? "

" Since you are the most normal one. We all have high hopes for you. " Jason responded, wiping a fake tear from his eye.

(Y/N) crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head.

" Sometimes I wonder what's wrong with this family. I truly do. "

Jason cackled. (Y/N) huffed and looked down once he heard sounds of struggle down there.

" You got it little bat? "

" Yup. " (Y/N) responded, jumping down, making his landing softer with his cape.

The alley was dark and he couldn't really see into it. He froze once he heard growling. What the hell? He didn't even had the time to blink before a big dog jumped at him. He fell down with the dog, who was biting his arm. He could hear his gauntlet breaking. He tried to push the dog, but he grunted once he felt the sharp teeth breaking his skin. He managed to kick the dog away and the animal ran.

(Y/N) was breathing heavily from the excitement and the adrenaline running through him. He shakily brought his uninjured arm to his ear.

" B? "

" (Y/N) what's wrong? "

" I just got bit by a dog... He broke my gauntlet. "

" Shit. Hang on, I have your location. I will call Alfred. Stay put okay? "

" Okay... "

Jason landed next to (Y/N), freaked out of his mind.

" A dog bit you?! "

(Y/N) nodded, feeling slightly dizzy. Does he has rabies? Is he going to die by rabies? He has heard about the symptoms of the this disease and it was fatal. There were rare cases when somebody made it out alive from rabies.

" Okay, lean on the wall, you don't look steady. "

" Hood, what if I have rabies? "

" Don't think like that, be more positive. "

(Y/N) laughed. Jason was slightly worried about (Y/N). More precisely, he was worried about (Y/N)'s sanity. Laughing in this situations was not really normal.

" Thank God you are here old man. Get him tested for rabies immediately. "

" Will do. I will call Superman to help you with patrol. "

Jason nodded, watching with worry as Bruce picked up his son, knowing that (Y/N) will be to unstable to walk. He put him in the car, before turning to Jason.

" Tell your brothers the plan. "

" Let me know how the test turns out. "

Batman nodded and got into the Batmobile. (Y/N) had managed to stop the bleeding, but it was hurting. There was no adrenaline going through his veins right now and the pain was still taking it toll on him. He didn't even pay attention to what Bruce was saying. At the moment, he could care less. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. He tried to ignore the pain, but it wasn't successful.

" Hang on tight (Y/N). We are almost at the manor. "

" Bruce, before I die, I want you to know that I love you. And tell my brothers the same. "

" You won't die. Calm down. We will test you and give you the proper treatment. "

(Y/N) readjusted his arm, hissing in pain. Bruce stopped the car and he stepped out to help (Y/N). Alfred was there to help him too.

" Okay master (Y/N), just relax. We will patch you up in no time. "

(Y/N) was laying on a bed as Alfred was patching him up. There was 10 million pounds lifted of his shoulders once he didn't have rabies. But the wound was still throbbing and it was still bothering him. He was feeling weird.

" And we are done. The scarring should be minimal. "

(Y/N) just nodded. He was far too tired at this point. Without a word, he dragged his ass up the stairs. Bruce watched with Alfred.

" What is wrong master Bruce? "

" Something is wrong with (Y/N). And it's not about the bite. He usually shakes this type of thing off. "

" Maybe it was the fear of rabies. That fear kept him awake and excited and once the test was negative his body relaxed. "

" It may be, but I'm still worried. " Bruce admitted to Alfred.

" (Y/N) is going to be okay, he just needs to rest. "

(Y/N) is not okay. He was feeling as if something was stabbing him all over his body. On top of that, he was shivering from the called. What in the actual fuck is happening to him?

He whimpered in pain as he turned around. Why does this hurt so much? He needs to get Bruce, but he doesn't think that he will be able to even stand up, let alone walk.

Across the hall, Bruce opened his eyes. Something was wrong. He kicked the covers off and went to check on (Y/N). The others were getting back now.

Bruce opened the door to (Y/N)'s room and his heart sank once he saw his son in pain. He didn't see (Y/N)'s face, but he could guess from the body position and from the twitching of his limbs.

" (Y/N)? " Bruce asked, going over to check on his son.

He was shocked by the mere paleness of (Y/N)'s skin. He looked like death warmed over. Bruce put his hand over (Y/N)'s forehead. Bruce removed his hand, shocked by how high it was. He called Alfred who was going upstairs.

" (Y/N) has a fever, a high one. Should we give him an ice bath? " Bruce asked quickly.

" Let me check. "

After checking, Alfred ordered an ice bath for (Y/N). They need to bring this fever down now. Jason stopped by, confused as to what was going on.

" What's going on? "

(Y/N) winced from the sound of Jason's voice. Why is his hearing so sensitive? Why is everything so damn sensitive?

" (Y/N) has a high fever. We need to bring it down. Can you bring the ice? "

Jason nodded, quickly running to get the ice.

" Can you hear me (Y/N)? " Bruce asked, moving some of the sweaty strands of hair away from (Y/N)'s face.

(Y/N) nodded, trying to comprehend what was happening. He heard the word bath and he could an idea what that would entail. He muttered a soft no, shaking his head softly. A bath would entail the cold.

" I know you aren't a fan of cold, but we need to bring your fever down. "

(Y/N) let out a noise of protest.

" I have the ice. Tim help me out. " Jason said, taking a glance at (Y/N)'s pale face. He looked dead. Tim was also unsettled by the state of his younger brother. Bruce heard the water running and he gently removed the pajamas of off his son, leaving him in his boxers. (Y/N) was mumbling something incoherent and Bruce was sure that that was the noise of protest.

" I know, but we need to drop your fever. "

Jason peaked his head from the bathroom, telling Bruce that it was ready. Damian and Dick also came into the room.

" What is happening? " Dick asked.

(Y/N) felt that his ears were bleeding. Can everyone stop talking?

There were way to many voices in the room. And far too many people. (Y/N) just wanted to die... He was startled when Bruce picked him up and carried him to the bathroom. (Y/N) groaned when the far to bright light hit his eyes.

" Brace yourself son. "

(Y/N) hissed at the cold water. He tried to get out, but Bruce was having none of it. He gently pushed (Y/N) back to sit.

" Lean down, dunk your head. "

Bruce helped him out, gently lowering his son's head down. (Y/N) closed his eyes as his head was dunked. He gripped the edge of the tub with all of his might. He was shivering and chattering. Bruce sat down next to the tub watching his son.

" You boys can go back to your rooms. He is going to be fine. "

" Call us if you need anything. " Dick said as he ushered the others out.

Now it was just Bruce and (Y/N). Bruce watched with worry as watched his son. (Y/N) never had such serious fever. Everyone gets sick every once in a while, but this one tops the cake.

" What made you so sick? " Bruce murmured, gently removing some of wet strands from (Y/N)'s face.

(Y/N) was in a daze, feeling dead. He leaned his head towards Bruce, enjoying the contact. Bruce didn't know what to think about all of this. First there was fear that he would lose his son, but now there was worry. This is not normal.

The stayed there for 10 to 15 minutes and Bruce was then helping him out of the bath. He brought (Y/N) some clean clothes. (Y/N) had managed to change with shaky hands. He barley opened the door as he collapsed into Bruce's arms.

" Okay, come on, lets get you into bed. "

He tucked his son in, making sure he was warm. Bruce glanced at the alarm clock. It was 4 am. Bruce sighed before laying down next to (Y/N). He wouldn't be able to go to his room and sleep peacefully knowing his son was so sick that he couldn't even think straight.

He closed his eyes as his son was sleeping already, clearly exhausted.

(Y/N) was doing slightly better. The fever was still there, but it wasn't as bad as it was few days ago. He was still in pain, but it wasn't as bad. And they tested him again for rabies. Negative.

But (Y/N) felt differently. His vision was good before, but now it seemed to be even better. But what bothered him, was his hearing. He doesn't remember it being this good.

And there was something about his sense of smell that bothered him. What the actual fuck? He was eating fruit that he got from Bruce and Alfred, but the smell was way to intense. He scrunched his nose, but ate the fruit anyway. It's the only thing he could eat without feeling nauseous.

His brothers were popping in from time to time, making sure that he was okay. Although, they weren't going to admit it, they were scared for their youngest brother that night. First it was the dog bite and the fear of rabies and the fever on top of that? Jesus Christ.

He coughed while taking his laptop. He was in the mood for some Golden Girls. He needs something fun to lift him up.

After 2 more days he was healthy. 100% healthy. But he didn't feel like it. Everything was enhanced. He now knew that his hearing was better, alongside his eyesight. But the smell freaked him out more then anything.

His stomach way turning all the time from the intense smells. Sometimes he couldn't stand Bruce's cologne. And Jason's cologne too. What the fuck? He never remembers it being so strong.

And that wasn't the only thing. He got way more restless. He had to workout in the gym longer then usual just to feel slightly tired. Just slightly. Usually when he worked out he was tired and aching, but now it didn't feel like anything, it was just... Nothing. And it made him afraid.

He had to investigate what the hell bit him. That was not a normal dog. It was bigger than any of the breeds he has seen. He was brought back from his train of thoughts when he heard somebody in front of his room. Judging by the footsteps, it was Jason. Woah... There was a knock and Jason peaked his head in once he got the permission.

" Do you want to spar with us? "

" Sure, give me a minute. "

Jason nodded and left the room. (Y/N) sighed. He should have said no, but he didn't want to be restless anymore. He changed his shirt and went to their gym. Everyone was there too. This is not good.

" Come on (Y/N). " Jason said, moving towards the mat.

(Y/N) wrapped his knuckles to protect them. He moved on the mat too, getting ready. Bruce whistled and Jason and (Y/N) went at it. (Y/N) was quick and far more aggressive then usual. Bruce tilted his head while he was watching. Something got into (Y/N). What? He doesn't know, but he will figure it out.

Everything was going fine, until he kicked Jason too hard and there was a crack. Jason gasped for air as he gripped his ribs. (Y/N) watched his hands with wide eyes. Everyone circled Jason, worried about him. (Y/N) couldn't move. What? Oh God what is happening to him?

His vision went blurry as he ran from the room, his father shouting his name. He ran out of the manor, stopping at the edge of the yard where the woods started. Something was wrong with him.

" (Y/N)! Wha- " Bruce stopped once he saw (Y/N)'s eyes. They weren't (E/C) anymore, they were blood red. His eyes widened at the sight of his son in that state. He needs to call Zatanna or Doctor Fate. Maybe both of them.

Bruce froze once he heard the bones breaking and (Y/N) turning. (Y/N) cried from the pain he was going through. Bruce felt his mouth drop as a big gray wolf replaced the place of his son. (Y/N) looked down to look at his paws, whining and crying. Bruce tried to approach his son, but (Y/N) ran. Bruce cursed. He wasn't going to catch up with him. Fuck.

(Y/N) ran for a long time. He stopped by a small lake, moving to drink some water. It got dark and he was exhausted. He laid down on the ground after drinking the water, ready to go to sleep. He will think about his return in the morning.

He looked down at his front paws. So a dog that bit him was a werewolf. But a bigger question is, how is he going turn back into a human? How? His ear twitched when he heard rustling. His lifted his head up, before quickly standing up. He tensed at the thought of somebody hunting him. But there were no hunters here in this forest.

He sniffed the air, smelling nothing. He felt something prick him at his right side. His eyes widened once he saw a dart. A tranquilizer dart. He was afraid. He felt dizzy, falling to his side. He whined before he lost consciousness.

Bruce sighed as he lowered the gun, walking towards his son. Zatanna and Doctor Fate approached the wolf. Zatanna knelt down next to the wolf's head.

" And he had a high fever before this? " Zatanna asked Bruce.

" He did. Why are you asking? "

" That means that his body was preparing him for turning. Well, shifting. And I have to say, he was lucky. He was bit by a werewolf that can control his shifting. "

" So (Y/N) can shift whenever he wants? "

" Yes, but the shift is tied to his emotions too. Werewolves learn to control their emotions too, so they don't shift based on their emotions. "

Bruce nodded. He gently petted (Y/N)'s wolf head, feeling the soft fur under his hand.

" But he will be able to have a some what normal life? " Bruce asked, trying to control his voice.

" Yes. " Doctor Fate answered, observing the wolf.

Bruce sighed in relief.

" Lets get him back. He needs to shift. We know a person that can help him learn all he needs to know. " Doctor Fate added.

Bruce picked the wolf up, walking with Zatanna and Doctor Fate back. He was somewhat relieved that (Y/N) will be able to leave normally. For now, they need to learn how to deal with this.

[captain-mj]

I have an idea.

Werewolf 141, except Soap who is a Wulver. This does not get discovered until Soap starts leaving fish on Ghosts desk.

Listen... Listen... Wulvers are one of my favorite creatures (ignore that I have a ridiculous amount) and I fucking love this. Also wrote this super sleep deprived and I did not edit so good luck y'all

Ghost stared at the fish on his desk for a stupid amount of time.

Was this a prank? It was a weird prank. Maybe if he was a cat shifter, it would make sense, but this was... odd. He didn't even get the joke.

Slowly, he knocked the fish into the trashcan.

Alright, just gonna... ignore that.

He grabbed the paperwork and went back to work as normal.

The next time, Price was with him. They both just stared at the fish.

"Why is there a fresh caught carp on your desk?"

"I don't know." Ghost was now angry. It was annoying, gross and made the room smell awful. He didn't fucking like fish normally, why the fuck would he want it RAW and WET on his desk. "Do you want it?"

Price grabbed it immediately. "Yeah. I'll give it to the cooks or something... Who did you piss off?"

"A dead man." Ghost growled. Whoever was doing this was going to keep a chunk taken out of them. Maybe lose a leg too. He staked out in his office for a while but caught nothing.

Ghost didn't bring it up to anyone else just yet. The culprit might get skittish and stop.

Instead, Ghost shifted and sat under his desk one day. He was a large wolf, but he had made sure he could fit under his desk when he got it. At the time, it had been for if he wanted to take a break from paperwork, not hide out in an attempt to catch a criminal. His insomnia would keep him up forever anyway.

When he woke up to a fish, now placed right in front of his nose, he almost went ballistic.

The nerve.

The audacity.

How had they managed to not wake him up? He woke up at everything! A FNG sneezed on the other side of the base and he woke up!!

Soap noticed something was wrong. "You alright, Lt?"

"I'm fucking fine." He snapped, narrowing his eyes at Soap.

Soap winced. "Aye..." Ghost shoved down the feeling he got from that. He didn't have time to feel bad!

"Have you seen anyone acting weird lately?"

"How so sir?"

"Coming in with wet hands. Going near where my office is. Lingering."

Soap looked confused. "No. I can't say I have. What's going on?"

"Nothing." Ghost grabbed his tea and escaped into his new room. Luckily, there's no fish to deal with. His room is clear. Thank goodness.

His office... His safe space... No longer safe...

Okay, a touch dramatic there. Ghost drank his tea and told himself that he needed to focus on work, not his tiny mystery.

He woke up again. Head down on his desk. Tea cold. Was there a fucking gas leak? Since when did he sleep so much?

Soap was there.

With a trout.

"You motherfucker." Ghost threw himself over the desk, watching Soap jump back and start sprinting down the halls. He chased after him. Soap tried to shift to get away, but that was ineffective. Ghost slammed into him, sending them both tumbling to the ground before he got his arm around his throat.

"I don't care if you look like a mutt, I'll still kick your ass. Now shift back and explain yourself."

Soap did not shift back, instead wiggling to try to get away. Ghost tightened his grip until Soap stopped fighting him. He slowly shifted back, clearly embarrased.

"Hey, Lt. Fancy seeing you here."

"Why? Just why?"

"So... ya see... I am not a werewolf."

"You turned into a wolf, did you fucking not?"

"Actually.... I am a wulver."

"A wulver?"

"I uh... bring people fish."

"Why me?? Why did you bring me fish??" Ghost sounded accusatory.

Soap stuttered.

"Don't wulvers do that for people who are poor? Or can't feed themselves?"

Soap looked panicked.

"Fuck you."

"I'm sorry!" Soap yelped. "I don't know. i just wanted to... do something for you."

Ghost glared but dropped him. "Don't do it again."

Soap shakily gave him a thumbs up.

"I like mugs. Give me those next time."

"Yes, sir."

[jamesisasimp]

Hey, so remember this?

Yeah, well I wrote it. Here it is. It's called In The Woods ♡ enjoy

You know how, partway through to the achievement of a goal, the journey gets sort of stagnant? Something shifts from fighting to drifting, waiting, for something, anything to progress. It's at this point that people are usually searching for something to break the pattern, to reignite the flame, to push them on.

Regulus has been drifting for months, and this, he thinks, is his break in the routine.

Admittedly, he's not too sure what this is, but he takes his wand out of the sheath in his sleeve and ventures out of his tent.

It's late October, possibly early November. He hasn't been too capable of keeping track in the middle of the woods, and the trees here don't change color or lose their leaves. But it's cold now that he's out of his heating charm's reach, and the air smells of that crisp, freshness that only winter brings. He pulls his cloak tighter around himself and presses on.

His camp is small, set up within the constraint of a circle no wider than six meters across. The idea was to put up a dome of protection charms, and the smaller the dome the less of a magical footprint it leaves - harder to find. It's practical, safe, but it means every time he steps outside of range he's exposed. It makes every venture, including this one, nerve wracking.

At least all of the other times he was heading out with a purpose. Not that chasing the sound of a whining, wounded animal through the dark, cold woods in the middle of the night isn't a purpose. It's just not a very good one and yet. Here he is.

"Lumos," he murmurs, and his magic hums to life through the tip of his wand, illuminating him and the trees nearest. Now that there's light he can see his own breath.

He should've known because he was nearly blind before, but he glances up through the branches to get a glimpse at the moon and finds it unfull. Barely a sliver. No wonder it was so dark. But that means the culprit of the noise isn't a werewolf that Regulus is heading right towards to get mauled.

There's no wind tonight, so the trees don't sway and their needles don't rustle and fall. In fact, the forest is oddly still. No critters scampering about and causing a fuss or birds calling. Maybe they're asleep. It's quiet. Too quiet.

All Regulus can hear are the deep animalistic groans in the distance, his footsteps, and something ringing in his ears.

So he goes, pinching the neck of his cloak together rather than pulling up the hood, and hoping the cover of darkness will keep him protected. Even though the silence makes him afraid to breathe and get caught out of bed when he shouldn't be.

Noting this, he should be scared, and yet he realizes he's not.

There's an odd, serene calm about all of this. He feels frozen in time, like this isn't really happening for the rest of the world, just him. Maybe it's the stillness or not knowing the day or the time, or maybe it's that Regulus is about to interact with a living - and likely dying, by the sound of it - thing for the first time in... in a while.

He feels untouchable as he weaves around trees and climbs up over rocky inclines. The sound gets louder and the ringing does too, and Regulus faintly regrets not adventuring in the woods as much as Sirius when he was a kid. Maybe then he'd know what animal is making the sound before he sees it.

It's a rather dreadful sight.

The deer- no, there's antlers. Stag. It's crumpled over on it's side, sprawled out in the middle of a small clearing where the frost has begun to build up on the grass. There's blood. From this distance Regulus can't see from where, but, if he had to guess, the pink and jagged tears over the animal's ribs is likely the source.

It's in obvious pain, kicking weakly in distress and moaning visibly into the air. The only odd part is... there's no culprit. No muggle hunter with a gun, though there shouldn't be in these woods anyway. No wolf or bear. Do they have bears in Scotland? Regulus hasn't a clue, but if they did he doesn't imagine they're the rare type of bears that just wound a stag for fun and leave it to bleed out rather than finishing it off.

His heart aches to see a creature in such pain. He knows this deer isn't the only one out there withering tonight, but it's the one he can actually reach. He can help. And maybe he should just leave it here because it'll take uncomfortably too long to heal it, but he can help.

That's why he's out here in the first place, isn't it? To help. He's not, but right now he can, and that's what matters.

And he didn't come all the way out here for nothing.

If he had been on more of those woodland adventures when he was younger, he might know better than to creep up on an injured animal. The goal isn't to spook it. If possible, Regulus would like to mend it's wounds and send it on it's way. It's probably got a family to get back to by now.

But he hadn't, so he doesn't know, and so when his boot lands on the frozen grass with a crunch and announces his presence, he isn't expecting the hoof he gets to the chest.

It knocks the air right out of his lungs and sends him tumbling back with the force, tripping over his own feet until he's falling. When he hits the ground he's gasping for air.

It comes to him. One terrifying beat late.

He breathes.

Right then. Probably shouldn't have snuck up on it like that.

The stag is in near hysterics and Regulus pushes himself up onto his elbows. It's thrashing out, and this time he knows well enough to stay out of range when he climbs back to his feet, inwardly accepting the bruise that it's undoubtedly going to leave.

"Alright," he's trying to talk to it before he can stop himself. A deer. He's talking to a deer. Well, at least it can't talk back and let him know how rotten he is at conversation. "Alright, it's okay. I'm not here to hurt you."

If the stag understands him, which it presumably does not, it doesn't care.

"Please, would, you just-" Regulus was trying to get closer again and had to jump back to avoid his legs being knocked out from beneath him by another swiping hoof. "Yes, I know how strong and scary you are, you haven't got to show me again. Let me- hey!"

The stag tipped its head forward enough to get one of its antlers caught the end of Regulus's cloak. It's instantly tangled in the material, and when he tries to tug it off the stag outright screams and yanks in his own direction, which makes Regulus stumble closer to the stomping hooves of death.

"Okay! Okay, you want the cloak?" he asks, not expecting an answer and not getting one as he shrugs off his other sleeve and tosses it onto the ground. "There, you can have it."

The stag is still panting but, without the tension to fight, it's head just flops over onto the heap of the cloak. It let's out a heavy sigh through its nose, one Regulus can only imagine is of pain, and his heart clenches.

"That hurt you, didn't it?"

The stag is still watching him as he carefully lowers himself to his knees. He's proper cold now, goosebumps trailing all up his arms, but that's not his biggest concern. If the deer wants his cloak to stay calm then he can have it. Anything to keep those hooves on the ground.

He doesn't have to get any closer to see the severity of the major wound on the animal's ribs. A whole chunk of flesh is missing, like someone took a spoon and just scooped it out, and the surrounding fur is matted in blood that shines in the light of his wand. The good thing, he supposes, is that he can't see bone, so the wound can't be too terribly deep. The ribs are sort of right under the surface, aren't they? He's a bit shit at first aid on people, let alone animals...

"Right. Well I can mend that a bit, replenish the skin and get you some bandages," he tells the deer, who only huffs in response. "But this wouldn't have hurt your head..."

He has to inch closer to get a better look at the deer's neck, which makes the animal rigged, tense and ready for a fight.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he reminds it. "I just want to help. Can I...?"

He points towards the stag's neck, and, for a long moment, it just stares at him. Then, eventually, it lays its head back down, seemingly granting him willing access.

Maybe, somehow, it can understand him.

"Thank you."

He settles on his hip with his legs bent, following the curve of the deer's outstretched front legs. The ground is hard and freezing, but he doesn't care.

There's no surface level damage that he can see, so Regulus suspects it's a sprained muscle of some sort, under the skin. Carefully, slowly, and with an eye on the deer's face to make sure it doesn't suddenly lose its mind again, he presses his hand to the animal's neck. The fur is surprisingly soft for a woodland creature, but he's not feeling for that, far more interested in the skin underneath.

He was expecting a knot of muscle, like you get in your shoulders when you overuse them in an odd position. Massage it and it disappears, but that's not what he finds. It's a bump, a bit of uneven, raised skin. It's a-

"Scar," he whispers. "Now where'd you get that?"

The stag makes a rumbly noise that Regulus can feel under his fingers. Which doesn't clear anything up, by the way, but he appreciates the effort.

Still, it seems fresh. Maybe it's pressing on something that agitates the stag, he doesn't know. He's not well versed in the anatomy of deer.

Either way, it's nothing that requires his attention too drastically.

The stag is still looking at him with wide, dark brown eyes, and Regulus continues to gently stroke his neck until he feels some tension leave the poor animal.

"What did this to you?" he whispers, searching the deer's gaze.

There's still no answer.

"Right. Well. Some dittany will fix you right up. Hopefully the silver won't mess it up..." he musses to himself and retrieves the bottle from his pocket. It's homemade, which does air a bit of caution, but Regulus needed something out here to protect him in case he did run into a werewolf.

Besides, he was great at potions. Hasn't properly brewed one in two years, but that's alright.

And, you know, if it doesn't work, at least then he'll know so he doesn't use it on himself.

He doesn't know why he keeps talking to the deer, but he hopes it's comforting it a little, if only just another sound for the animal. "It's going to sting," he warns, and the stag makes a sound of indignation that almost makes Regulus smile. Somehow it sounded... exasperated? "Well I'm sorry, do you want this wound to close or not?"

Another huff.

"That's what I thought."

He clamps the cap for the bottle in his fist to make sure he doesn't lose it and carefully tips the mouth over the wound. Just a few drops slide out and fall onto the gash, and the stag is instantly in motion, seizing and thrashing and trying to get away from the pain Regulus had warned about.

He ducks down and throws himself against the stag's belly, pressing his body close to avoid the hooves.

"Alright, okay," he tries to soothe the spooked creature, smothering a cough in its fur as he accidentally breathes in the thin green smoke coming from where the potion met the wound. "Alright. It's okay. Just a little sting, like we talked about."

The stag barely settles, but that's enough for Regulus to lift the bottle again, because the wound was big enough to need more.

There was no warning before he tipped it in, and that ended up being a mistake because the animal positively screamed. It lashed out so swiftly Regulus's arm jerked and spilled more of the potion than he meant to, but he capped it quickly and curled himself up into the stag's chest and just waited it out this time.

And this time, because he got enough of the potion on there, it actually started to heal instead of just hurting. He got too much, the bitter thought comes as Regulus pushes the now half empty bottle back into his pocket. I can always make more, he reminds himself.

It takes a while, but, eventually, the stag settles, slumping right against the ground like all of its strings got clipped.

When Regulus crawls out from beneath one of it's legs and into the light, there's blood on his hands.

But a quick survey of the wound let's him know it worked. It doesn't look good, because Regulus is an amateur and the circumstances were rather worse for the wear, but it's done. The green sheen is dissipating and reveals a smooth red scar. It's sunken in as deep as the gash was, so not a smooth transition by any means. At least it's not bleeding.

"There," he finally let's himself breathe. "Told you I'd fix you right up. Now you've got a nice battle scar to bring back to your family."

The stag let's out a miserable sound, one that pierces right into Regulus's chests and makes him wonder if, possibly, this deer is just as lonely as he is.

Not that there's anything to be done about that.

It's still using his cloak as a pillow, so he doesn't try to take it back. He pushes himself up and gathers his wand from the grass so he can mutter a bandaging incantation. That handiwork turns out much more successful, the smooth and clean bandages wrapping around the deer's torso to secure the wound. Ideally, it'll keep it somewhat clean and protect it from the elements until it's fully healed.

Ideally.

He casts a quick diagnostic charm for good measure, just to be sure there's nothing more he can do for the creature, and that's when his blood turns as cold as his skin.

"You- you've been crucioed."

He'd recognize the symptoms anywhere, and the scar- scar of impact. It only occurs when the spell is particularly targeted and strong. He knows because Sirius has a few, but...

But if this deer had the cruciatus curse put on it...

"Where's it's caster?"

In an instant the world shifts. Time is no longer frozen, the woods are no longer still, the wind has shifted and Regulus can feel deep within that he is no longer the hunter. No, he is the prey.

"Nox."

He snatches up his wand and climbs to his feet in an instant, eyes on the surrounding trees. He paid no mind to them before, but now the silent darkness has him on edge.

It's so empty that it can't be natural. Anyone could be there hiding behind the branches, any shadow could be ready to pounce, and Regulus knows he needs to act first or he'll be taken by surprise.

And he has come way too far, spent way too long, to lose it all like this.

But it's hard to hit what you can't see.

Magical energy is crackling in the air that wasn't before, frying the freshness right out of it.

It was a trick.

This was all a trick, betting on his empathy that Regulus had spent years trying to squash. Unsuccessfully. And he fell for it, right into the center of the trap, painted a bright red bull's eye with this deer's blood, just waiting for the arrow.

A trick.

A trick a trick a trick.

Stupid stupid stupid.

He's out in the open, unprepared, half blind in the dark.

Alright then, he wants to say, come out and get me. Stop hiding and finish the damn job.

But, before he can ever open his mouth, another voice reaches his ears.

"Regulus..."

He spins around and focuses his wand in an instant, curse on the tip of his tongue, and the only reason he doesn't let his magic out is because of what he finds there.

There's no wounded stag slumped over in the grass.

No, there's a man.

A stark naked man barely covered with Regulus's cloak, blood smudged over his sickly skin.

A man Regulus would know anywhere.

"James?" he breathes. "James Potter?"

[streaminn]

Ooooo okay okay okay!!!!

(Also sorry if this doesn’t match up with anything, I’ve missed a lot from this AU lol)

Wednesday was watching Enid talk to May from afar. She’d long since learned not to appear as trying to hide from either of them, the last time when Enid had felt herself being watched didn’t end well.

It’s strange. Wednesday recognizes Enid, but at the same time, she’s so clearly not the same person as before. It’s walking through a minefield, trying to reacquaint herself with the werewolf, while also having a sniper in the form of May watching her every move, waiting for her to make a mistake.

“You know, watching someone isn’t actually a love confession,” Wednesday turns to look at her mother with a scowl, “At least, to those not already part of our family. Wednesday, please just talk to her. I don’t wish to pressure you or to cause you harm, but you can’t be with her if you let her think you feel nothing for her. Just give it a chance, dear. Sometimes, all love needs is honesty.” Morticia walks away, leaving Wednesday to make her choice. She knows that this might be her last chance to say it, because if not now, then when?

Before she has a chance to properly think it through though, she’s called over by Enid.

Wednesday joins the two girls, May promptly walking away, yet still keeping a close eye on them. Wednesday and Enid simply watch each other for a long while, neither seeming capable of starting a conversation anymore. Eventually, Wednesday starts, “Enid-”

But she’s cut off by the werewolf, “Don’t. Okay? Just don’t. Alright, I don’t want some… grand declaration of anything, understand? That’s not how any of this works. If you have something to say, then say it.”

“I- Enid…” Wednesday is at a loss for words for a moment, before she renews her determination, “Enid, you have no idea what I want to say to you. Never make such broad assumptions again.”

“Yeah? So you’re not gonna kick me out, huh? Or sell me out? C’mon Wednesday, just get to the point.”

“I love you.”

That stops Enid in her tracks. “Wh- what?”

“Enid, I have searched for you for decades. I do not know what you have been through in your life, but I want to protect you, and May, from any further harm.”

“I don’t need protection…”

“I know, you have more than made that clear. But it does not matter to me. You are everything to me Enid and after you left, I was nothing. I nearly wasted away in my search for you. I don’t blame you for running away, I am simply glad to have you back here,” Wednesday hesitates for a moment before she offers her hand to Enid. The werewolf flinches despite the seer’s slow movement, but accepts her hand, “Where I can touch you.”

“Wends… I can’t-” Enid struggles with herself. This isn’t what she was expecting at all. There’s no way Wednesday actually loves her! Right? And yet, here she is, confessing her feelings. Enid can’t handle it anymore.

She runs, again.

Though this time, she doesn’t run away. She runs head first into this, whatever it is. “Wednesday… I’m not sure about this. We’re moving way too fast. But, I love you too. Just, give this time, okay?”

Ugh, sorry. This isn’t great lol

NOT ENID RUNNING RIGHT INTO IT

like yes, I am totally in love with you too

God Enid you're an adult, think on it for a Lil bit more atleast 😭😭 you can't just toss that word around

ALSO NO WORRIES RACHEL ITS LOVELY!!! I LOVE IT

[princeescaluswords]

I always find there's such a stark difference between tgt fans and soc fans, and this is could possibly be because of the way the fandom interprets the texts. Six of crows is a heist novel, about people who aren't chosen ones and just live in Kerch. You don't have to be special to be worthy of getting your story told. Soc fans get that. But Darkling fans? Well, it just *can't* be that Alina chooses to be ordinary over being the Darkling's queen, so she apparently *must* end up with her abuser, even though she does not share his morals; even though she is the antithesis of everything he is because she will never see others' lives as expendable for a greater cause. Alina is compassionate and revels in being the 99%, and Darkling fans seem to hate that. Alina was never meant to be a power fantasy, but for Darkling fans, the idea of being normal was never an option - because to them, why would you not choose to be part of the 1%; why would you not turn this into a power fantasy, even when when the author always intended for tgt to be the opposite?

Unfortunately, I have only seen the Netflix adaptation of the Grishaverse. I don't know what "tgt" stands for. However, I can talk about the unpleasant intersection I find between power, status, and ethics that occurs in fandoms. When I refer back to Alina, the Darkling, and the other characters in the Grishaverse, you should bear in mind that it is constrained by my limited knowledge, and I welcome any correction of what you feel is a misinterpretation.

When it comes to many people in our culture, they may claim to want a good story, but they tend to be quite simplistic in their value systems when they think they're not going to be judged for it. Which means they want power fantasies, instead. The problem, of course, is that power fantasies don't make satisfying stories. It's like trying to survive on a diet consisting solely of cheeseburgers.

Let me give a concrete example. In my primary fandom, Teen Wolf, I recently came across an unlabeled post-season 2 story where Jackson Whittemore -- who, for those who don't know, is white, rich, good-looking, entitled and captain of both the lacrosse and the swim team -- is talking about Scott McCall (the lead protagonist in the show but not this story) in very negative terms, complaining about Scott's lack of decency in not telling Allison Argent that her mother was bitten by Derek Hale, an alpha werewolf, while Mrs. Argent was trying to kill Scott. The bite caused Mrs. Argent to kill herself, and, for a time, Allison blamed Derek for her mother's death.

Now, they set aside the fact that the show made it clear that Scott didn't tell Allison because, by the time he figured out what had happened (he was unconscious when Derek bit Allison's mother), it was already too late to change anything, so Scott decided not to tell Allison so that wouldn't be the last memory she had of her beloved mother. You would think that people would view this as an effort to be kind, right? Wrong!

Fandom sees this as an utter betrayal, because it is Derek Hale's feelings, as a white, rich, god-looking, entitled Alpha Werewolf, that should take precedence over Scott's girlfriend's feelings. It doesn't matter that while Derek did come to Scott's rescue, he had beat, manipulated, lied to, betrayed, and tried to murder innocents under Scott's protection for almost all of the first two seasons.

Also relevant is that this is the same Jackson Whittemore, who witnessed his next-door neighbor "kicking the crap" out of his son, Isaac Lahey, and said nothing about it to anyone. This is the same Jackson Whittemore, who when he got the Bite, dumped his girlfriend and told a homeless man to go die in another parking lot, before turning into a murder lizard slave. This is the same Jackson Whittemore for whom the only solution that Derek Hale managed to come up with when this happened was straight-up murder. This is the same Jackson Whittemore whom Scott fought to save from Derek. There is no hint in this fandom story that Jackson is being a hypocrite or being ungrateful or even aware of the contradiction.

The author chose this. Jackson's signature callousness and selfishness simply vanishes just long enough for him to condemn the person who tried to save him for not wanting to hurt his girlfriend's feelings. Why? Jackson is privileged, and he has that in common with Derek, so it is obvious that Jackson will take Derek's perspective in the matter.

Which brings us back to your example. Alina is the Sun Summoner, a living saint, and incredibly powerful. Of course she's supposed to take the side of the Darkling, who is also incredibly powerful. His creation of a slave caste for his kind, his manipulation and murder of countless others, and his creation of the Shadow Fold poisons her nation. This is irrelevant to power fantasy, where power should make her perspective identical to his.

In the modern day, our culture certainly talks about the dangers of the elite, but fandom gives its participants the way to celebrate a freedom from the ethical consideration when it comes to personal power. To them, since fiction =/= reality, they can indulge in their lust for power and status regardless of the consequences. To them, there is no reason for Scott McCall to value Derek Hale's feelings above Allison Argent's; Derek is more powerful, richer, and better looking (and a guy!) so Scott should choose Derek's side. To them, there is no reason that the Sun Summoner will choose a course in life that will prevent her power from corrupting her; if she allowed herself to be corrupted, she'd have all the status of the Darkling.

The problem they have is that the artists behind both the Grishaverse and Teen Wolf, which you are free to consider trivial, still examined the world around them and came to the conclusion that power doesn't supersede the necessity for ethical thought. In other words, the artists realized that power fantasies might give momentary pleasure, but in the end, they don't produce meaningful stories.

Some people have a problem with that.

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

Intermission: College Student Needs Roommates!

Okay, so she would probably be better off without one/prefer this not to happen. But if you get everything you want, Dom, then where is the character development? xD

Here are our candidates:

PAKA'A UHA: music lover, child of the ocean, goofball, gregarious*

If you want to be nice to Dom, he would probably be the option to pick. He's pretty chill, has a compatible sense of humour with the GOOFBALL trait, and is a gender nonconforming Sim who could be a reference to how mermaids are often used as an allegory for being trans (also many Polynesian cultures traditionally have genderfluid/nonbinary roles).

FAIZ JALEEL: active, loves outdoors, romantic, alluring*

Don't really know much about him, tbh. Seems nice enough. Pretty eyes. A hairstyle that reminds me of that one scene in There's Something About Mary. Plus with the ROMANTIC trait, potential to make a mess of whatever Dom and Kiyoshi have (or not) going on? Or at least some overnight guests maybe.

CELENE LOPEZ: neat, geek, outgoing, gregarious*, werewolf ally

This one feels like a bit of a cheat since I possibly already know her ROOMMATE QUIRKS, unless they change from one save to another. In a different save she was blasting loud music and continuously baking those Level 1 white cakes, but was otherwise alright. Although maybe not so much here, as the stereo is in Dom's room?

WOLFGANG WILDER: gloomy, creative, bookworm, muser*

Ah, the famed Moonwood Mill librarian and no connection at all to published author Vulfgang Mulder. I couldn't really figure out whether he and Dom got along. One of the very first things he did was TRICK WITH HAND BUZZER, which of course Dom loved, but every now and then I saw those negative relationship moodlets - possibily because he was in werewolf form and Dom doesn't yet have the WEREWOLF ALLY trait. Obviously as a werewolf there is a potential for chaos. However I think that Wolfgang starts the game with a decent werewolf level (PRIME maybe?) and as a member of the Collective, he's not supposed to be unpleasant towards Sims in his beast form in order to uphold pack values.

Below the cut, several that didn't make the cut (whomp whomp).

MEAN MERMAID (KALAMAINU'U IONA): In spite of her CHIEF OF MISCHIEF aspiration, her and Dom did not get along at all, probably due to her MEAN trait. And tendency to kick over Dom's trashcan.

At least she finally gave Dom a chance to use the BOMBADIERS AWAY mischief interaction.

Totally convincing "oh, oops?" from Dom there.

She then came back with Paka'a, looking positively thrilled to be there too. Also a merperson using an umbrella - highly sus.

Pro tip: if you're trying to make a good impression on a potential roommate, it's probably not the best idea to be mean to the other applicants straight off the bat.

I love how chill Paka'a looks here. They probably know each other from Sulani, so he's just like "oh yeah, that's Kala. We have a running bet to see how long she can go without insulting anyone." Dom sent her packing regardless.

THIS RANDOM GENERATED TOWNIE

Likely from the Snowy Escape pack based on what I recall from the name alone. Could even be the same townie that Dom and Kiyoshi both had beef with during their date.

Anyway, somehow she made an even worse impression than Kala. All she did was kick over Dom's trash can, rifle through romance novels only to leave them lying around, then - final straw - helped herself to all of Dom's beloved plants that she can't even sell at the moment, thanks to the Watcher's stringent set of rules.

After Kala was kind enough to be the test subject of the BOMBADIERS AWAY interaction, Dom threw a few handfuls of those at her then kicked her butt for good measure, making Dom two out of two in terms of her Battle Royale victories. For a Sim with the CLUMSY trait, she seems to be decent at throwing down.

ELOISE HIDDLESTIX (Thriftea owner), UKUPANIPO HEKEKIA and NALANI MAHI'AI

Aka: "maybe Sulani has changed their protected species laws because every single merperson is just fleeing there." Nothing wrong with any of them per se - I just wasn't feeling it. Also Dom and her friends all knew Eloise when they were still teens so it would feel weird if any behaviour that Darling Walsh would disapprove of occurred.

[ultram0th]

Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

Alpha Derek Hale had his trademark scowl on his face as he shoved his way through the packed bar. It was Saint Patrick's Day, otherwise known as a day for Americans to get blitzed off their asses. His irritation with drunk people and his general distaste for society led to Derek staying home for most of the night, only leaving his house to pick up his boyfriend, Stiles.

He spotted his boyfriend near the back of the cramped bar, a litter of empty bottles near him and his friends. Derek huffed but stalked forward, only stopping when he felt a light hand on his shoulder.

"You're not wearing green!" some random dude decked out in a glittery green suit shouted over the thumping music and talking crowd. "It's St. Patrick's Day!"

Derek fought his instinct to growl at the random weirdo, but instead just settled on glaring. "I don't celebrate it," he curtly said, shoving his way past the decorated man.

"I guess you just need to get more into the spirit!" the man called out behind him, even snapping his fingers.

Derek barely had time to roll his eyes again before he felt his center of gravity shift rapidly beneath him. He wobbled on his legs and had to reach out and hold onto one of the tables in order to steady himself. The mysterious wave of dizziness fled as soon as it had appeared, leaving Derek leaning up against a table, wondering what had just happened.

"That was weird..." he muttered to himself before trailing off, his voice having an odd squeak to it. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What the hell was that-- what's wrong with my voice?" He sounded like he'd been sucking on helium, his usual growl sounding high and comical.

However, the squeaky werewolf was quickly alerted to something else. He held his arms out in front of himself, his eyes widening at the green hue his signature black leather had adopted.

Gasping loudly, Derek saw his altered reflection in one of the mirrored walls of the bar. He ran a disbelieving hand through his now red hair. However, he was soon much more concerned with the way his ears looked pointed, looking similar to the cosplay elf ears that Stiles would wear during D&D.

"You've got to be shitting me!" Derek huffed when he looked forward and saw that he was staring directly into someone's waist. He looked around the bar, miffed that he must've shrunken down to about three feet tall, looking totally ridiculous dressed in his green clothes, with his pointy ears, and red hair.

"Derek?" Stiles's slurred voice rang out.

Derek blushed at having his boyfriend see him like this.

"Y-you look like a leprechaun!" Stiles gasped.

Derek rolled his eyes and grabbed his boyfriend's hand, leading him towards the door. "Let's just get out of here," he growled in his squeaky voice. He struggled to get used to walking on his shorter legs, and also he felt weird having Stiles tower over him when it was supposed to be the other way around.

When they got to his Camaro, Derek literally hopped into the driver's seat and sighed with irritation as he rested his forehead on the steering wheel. He looked and sounded ridiculous and he had no idea how to fix any of this.

"What's wrong?" Stiles asked, placing a sympathetic hand on his smaller shoulder.

"I can't reach the pedals," the leprechaun Derek growled, kicking his tiny feet wildly.

[ladykailitha]

WIP Wednesday Game

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

My only problem is that I tend to file name what the title is so I can find it easier, so...here’s what they were called before I titled them.

"File" Names

Soulmate AU

Werewolf Steve

Boy w/a Bat Book 2

Steve is in a Metal Band

Snippet

God, it took me a half hour to decide which tasty snippet to give you guys today, so settled on the scene that started me down the Steve is a history nerd journey.

Enjoy!

“Have you thought about selling your pieces?” Katie asked. “You could be making bank with these.” She lifted up the shirt to emphasize her point.

Steve shrugged. “Sure, but I wouldn’t have any idea where to sell them or who to sell them to.”

“I’ll sell them for you,” she said, “with a cut of the profits, of course. I sell at gaming and comic conventions, Ren fairs, sci-fi and fantasy conventions.”

Steve chewed on his lip. “I don’t make them very quickly. With them being all hand sewn.”

“Which makes it all the more valuable,” Katie insisted. “A hand sewn dress from a major clothing designer would be worth thousands, sweetie.”

****

Now, like I've mentioned all week (and will mention again in tomorrow's post so no one misses it) I will only be working on these four on WIP Wednesdays because Omega Escort Steve and History Nerd Steve are going to get super spoilery super fast as I'm nearing the end and don't want to lessen the fun of either story.

Also I'm not sure how much time I'll have with these today, if all goes well my husband will be out of quarantine and I'll see him for the first time in over two days (he had a COVID outbreak at work).

But I don't want that to stop you. Send them. Loads and loads. I can answer them on tomorrow or Friday if I need to. I'm happy to do that.

[snepfeathers]

I BID THEE!!! RAMBLE ON NEW OC!!!

AHHHhh okay okay I give

So, this OC is Nyx! She's in the same -verse with @bigandsoft's Juniper, a wolf who's getting used to running a business. Nyx was promoted to being Juniper's personal assistant, and ended up getting super close with them. Their relationship did not stay professional for very long at alllll, needless to say. (How could it really, when Nyx had to keep picking up all those food orders on Juniper's extended lunch breaks? It didn't help when Juniper started ordering extra food just for Nyx too, and it really didn't help when Juniper asked Nyx to make sure they finished all their orders. This is a zero waste company after all. It just seems to produce a lot of waist instead.) HR agreements were quickly signed to make sure things would be okay if their personal relationship didn't work out, but thankfully it doesn't look like that will ever come into play.

Nyx is a black cat with a few white spots - really small ones down her back that look like stars, and a series of patches around her neck that look like the phases of the moon. Still debating on if I'll give her a few little patches down her belly too, we'll see how it goes when I draw her. She's very fluffy and curvy, and I'm thinking about giving her a few floral tattoos on her shoulder/back too. She wears a lot of business casual because of the office job, but the longer she works with Juniper, the harder it seems to be for her to stay in dress code. She does love to accessorize though, and wears lots of jewelry. Earrings are some of her favorites.

Oh, and she's got a case of lycanthropy.

Or well, something similar to it at least. She goes more panther-beast thing than true wolf, but it still follows the moon cycles. And in this setting, in order to spread lycanthropy, you have to meet a very specific set of requirements. Either you're born into it, like Nyx was, or you have to share a very close bond with the person you're biting. Both parties have to love and respect each other deeply for the magic to actually take hold (be it romantic, platonic, or something else. point is, both people have to care about each other a lot*). So when Nyx noticed Juniper was suddenly taking time off on the same schedule as the full moon, she had her suspicions, but was honestly surprised. She didn't think the wolf had fallen for her as fast as she had for them. She brings it up right before the next full moon, and Juniper invites her over and they figure out what happened. Nyx gets a kick out of the fact her wolfie's "little crush" was enough to turn them. Sorry Juniper, but you can't really lie about your feelings to the moon! Nyx helps Juniper get a better handle on her new werewolf form, and Juniper is rightly impressed by Nyx's werepanther form. And of course they're both impressed by the appetites that transformations work up. Turns out you have a lot more room for food as a giant monster, go figure.

Nyx is quickly becoming a secondary sona for me, she's been a lot of fun to bounce ideas around with. Pretty kitty that goes beast mode and has a bit too easy access to cheeseburgers? She's just so good

*Theoretically, it doesn't even have to be a loving relationship. There are rumors out there about nemesis situations, where people hated but still begrudgingly admired each other enough that the magic took hold. Forget enemies-to-lovers, we got enemies-to-werewolves. That's not what's going on in Juniper and Nyx's case, but it'd be a fun hypothetical to explore nonetheless.

[trans-lykanthropie]

Support Networks

In which Ada tries her hand at writing to work out some emotions

***

It's a lovely opportunity for some social time with friends, even with the slight feeling of self-consciousness that comes with knowing it's for your benefit. Years of going through it alone wears you down, and in order to start healing you've got to rely on others to see you through it, and try to free yourself of the guilt of asking to be looked after for a night.

It's nice to see the little flat so busy, quite a few have turned up and are already chatting in little groups or hanging up coats and kicking off shoes. So much positive energy in a small space is contagious, and I can't help but feel my anxiety fading. The first time was a little quieter, and the nerves beforehand were almost worse than that before the actual full moon, but over time I've learned to look forward to it.

The early evening slips by, with dinner as a group and then some quick board games or finding space on the sofa for a chat. It'd be easy to lose track of time, were it not for that nebulous 'feeling' encroaching on me from the back of my mind, despite trying to keep busy and cheerful. It's impossible to describe: a mixture of unease, a muffled fear, and a frantic kind of desperation, and a bit like trying to hold yourself together emotionally whilst at work.

It doesn't happen like in films or books. There's no feral rage or snarling pain or thrashing around on the floor. It's much more like being disorientated and overwhelmed in a busy public place, when you just need to find an exit or a sheltered, quiet corner. Something in my gut always tells me to hide away when I get the feeling like I've got a golf ball in my throat, a kind of instinctive humiliation and shame about what's coming, despite being told repeatedly that that kind of thinking is ridiculous. I usually slip off to my room, trying to catch hold of short shallow breaths, steadying myself against the wall as the blood thunders in my ears. It's a kind of vertigo, you can't help but feel the tears welling up and running down your cheeks, a panicked numbness in your extremities like pins and needles, and a terrified nausea.

But that's why my friends are here, to help even when I feel like I don't deserve it or I'm too ashamed to ask for it. Someone finds me and tries to hold me steady, it's hard to see who exactly through blurred vision. There's that vertigo again, but the floor sliding away from under you isn't part of the panic, that's from the change in height. You can't cry per se, it's more of a gasping whining howl as sensations plug into your head so fast you can't cope with all of them sharpening and heightening at once. Sounds, smells, and instincts flash through your head like a match held to a line of gunpowder. There are jolts of anger, but the kind that comes when you really don't understand what's happening, more of a frenzied frustration than rage. That's the mental shift, the point where you're most erratic. After all you're like a cornered animal, just one caught in your own biological trap.

At some point I ended up gripping tightly onto whoever came to calm me down. They're now noticeably smaller, and caught in the vice-like grip of a seven and a half foot werewolf. I just hold on for dear life, dizzy and nauseous, breathing deeply, their reassuring talk reaching me as if coming simultaneously from across a wide ocean and from a loudspeaker pressed up against my ear. It's not followed by a loss of control to bestial impulses like you read about in gothic novels. It's a sudden surge of energy coupled with an increased impulsiveness, the urge to act on every half-formed idea that flitters through your head. You hold onto enough to know that the people there are your friends and are there to help you, but you won't remember why until the following dawn. Until then, you can rely on them to keep an eye on you.

After all.....you've been told you're great fun to be around like this.

[indigayghost]

More on my werewolf Guillermo au idea because I am, in fact, obsessed

- he was attacked one night and got transformed and the pack did take care of him for a few days but one of the wolves recognized him as the familiar of that vampiric household (or maybe they recognized him as the vampire slayer familiar) and he gets kicked out and return to the house

- Nandor feels immediately guilty when he sees Guillermo in the front door but he is Nandor and he is like "where the fuck did you go???? What the fuck did you do??????? You abandoned me only to go skidaddle with those fucking dogs" or something like that and Guillermo is PISSED and sad and angry and he's like "This is YOUR fault! You didn't turn me into a vampire and now I'm a fucking werewolf and I hate it I hate it so much" and Nandor is screaming and crying internally but he don't know what to do externally and is like "werewolves can be kind of cool if they want to........"

- Guillermo hates being a werewolf, he feels like he lost the sexy imposed chic transformation into a misterious creature of the night he deserved and instead he got attacked and almost eaten and has this fucking scars all over his body and he don't get cool powers he can just turn into an ugly dog-man every 28 days and it is not cool and sexy it is ugly and smelly and he hates it he hates it so much it makes him remember how he was bullied in school and he hates it

- Nandor is very very veeeeery protective of him and really tries to pump him up but he still needs to act aloof™ so it's not very good but it's cute and Guillermo understands Nandor enough to know what he is trying to do

- the other vamps are initially disgusted (expecially Laszlo) but really they can't deny anymore that they love Guillermo so Nadja slowly is like "well at least you are not one of the smelly ones....." "you can be kind of cute when you transform......" "your dumb dog manners can be charming to some people, not us, obviously~, but some people......" and Laszlo is "well you know there are people who gets of to furries....." "I'm not saying I had a thing with a werewolf but if it is the right werewolf I can begin to think about it...." and Colin just shrug, he likes to tease Guillermo about it but he's not thaaat heated up about werewolves to begin with so it's just normal

- eventually everyone just start to love big cute wolf Guillermo, they give him treats and scratch behind his ears and calls him a good boy and play catch with him

- they even share meals now! (the vamps make sure to not suck so much blood to keep the meat juicy and nice but they deny it every time

- he transforms into a mexican wolf or a red wolf because I like them and they are kind of Guillermo shaped

[dandunn]

If your still taking prompts, how about werewolf Jigen or Zenigata or merman Lupin

Tw: small animal death, blood

The worst part of being a monster isn't the pain and terror of transformation. It isn't the claws and teeth and itchy flea-bitten fur.

It isn't even the constant hunger gnawing like a rat scraping its long teeth against the stomach lining.

It's loneliness.

It's losing what little friends you had.

It's the cold, the rain, the bitter ruffle of cold wind through shaggy black fur. It's the lack of a safe shelter for the night. It's being stuck between here and there, without even the option of a friendly chat with a stranger.

Anyone who glances at you is either fixed in place with terror, or they run. In (thankfully) rare cases they become violent and try to fight you. 

Jigen thought that becoming a wolf meant the usual; changing from man to beast under the full moon every month like clockwork. That once he transformed he would eventually change back into his human skin.

But then he didn't shift back. Either it was permanent or he could change back at will and just didn't know how.

Sometimes he wonders which is worse. At least if it's permanent it means that he'll have to get used to the idea one way or another. But the faint hope that he could be human again…

It's enough to drive an old dog completely insane.

Jigen noses the lid off of a trash can and tips it over, snapping up scraps of whatever looks half-edible. It's putrid, but he's desperate -  can feel his ribs poking through his skin and ragged pelt. And it's the only way he can survive without resorting to killing. 

Even though the hunger never stops and he knows only something the size of a human would be enough to leave him fully sated. Frequently the thought passes through his mind of pulling down one of the sorry SOBs that kick him, scream at him and call the cops (or animal control) on him. If they attacked first he wouldn't even have to feel bad about it. But he can't. After all he was human too, not long ago. Eating a human would be crossing a line he wouldn't be able to come back from. 

Something small moves through the litter and detritus, tiny claws scraping against asphalt.

One movement of Jigen's head and the rat is in his jaws, squeaking a death knell as his teeth bite down on its spine.

Bones crunch and crack. Warm blood and juices drip down Jigen's gums and a purring growl of pleasure hums a vibrato through his chest. It's the best thing he's tasted in days, hot and fresh food…

And it's a fucking dirty rodent.

He spits out the sharp claws and tail, the taste of blood only stirring his hunger further.

How long?

How long is it going to be before it gets too much? Before I give in to it and kill someone? It's not like there's any deer loping by.

The best he can hope for is maybe booking it and making a beeline for the country where there's wild game, and probably meeting his end at the end of a hunter's gun as some kind of trophy. 

That would be a hell of an end, stuffed and mounted on some redneck's wall.

These past few nights though, misery and fear of being seen have kept him hunkered unmoving in the shadows of alleyways and underpasses. That and hunger. It's easier to preserve energy if you don't move.

His belly full of garbage and fresh rat, Jigen turns in a circle and hunkers down in a corner, hoping no curious eyes will look past the trash cans to see the enormous beast curled up there.

…

Then he awakens, ears and nose furiously working together as he senses someone approaching. He can smell cigarettes and cheap alcohol, instant noodles and wet fur. An odd combination of smells. He starts to growl, the sound of an animal who doesn't want to bite but will, given half the chance.

Another wolf stands at the mouth of the alleyway, brown fur and a long bushy tail standing up in the air.

There's… more like me?

Jigen stops growling and the other wolf regards him with a long-lashed golden brown eye. "Come with me." He gruffs, half turning away when he stops again. Jigen isn't exactly raring to follow the stranger.

The other wolf's eyes glance towards the pile of rat entrails on the ground. "There will be better things to eat, I promise."

Whining, Jigen uncurls his cold, battered body and limps off after the other wolf.

(To be continued?)

[blairwritingscript]

"Partners in Crime p2"

WORD COUNT: 1.5K

PAIRINGS: Venom/Eddie x Reader

SUMMARY: It all comes down to you being a very nonchalant bounty hunter desperate for a vacation or distraction, you got what you asked for and found... a partner?

WARNINGS: Mentions of fighting. little cursing. little alcohol.

A/N: B/N = bounty's name imma leave the name to your imagination. Venom's text is written like this :) also I DO take requests.

* Part 1 * Part 2 * Part 3 *

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You groaned quietly when you were woken up from your sleep by the sun shining in your eyes. you tried to roll onto your other side but immediately regretted that when you body hit the ground. "ow.." you sat up, looking over at the bed but when you did you froze.

You originally expected to see your new friend there, only to be surprised by some random man laying there in his place. you slowly got up not wanting to make any noise.

You grabbed your handbag that you at some point of the night had thrown on the ground. you snatched your gun out and made your way over to the bed, pointing your gun at the stranger.

You weren't sure if Venom was some kind of werewolf thing that turned human at daylight but you couldn't take the risk.

"Venom?" You called out. No response.

"wake up" you nudged the man in his side with your foot. he stirred a bit but you continued to hear snoring.

You frowned and had enough of it "Hey Dipshit! Wake the fuck up!" you yelled and nearly pushed him off of the bed this time.

Eddie's eyes snapped open, sitting upright within seconds and looking at your gun before his eyes travel up to meet yours.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my bedroom?" He mumbled.

"okay, so not Venom" you thought.

"Who are YOU and Where is he?!" you fired back at him. you then raised your gun a little bit to remind him you had one and wasn't afraid to use it.

"Who?" Eddie was starting to get a bad feeling about this. Venom was slowly waking up as well.

"Venom, what did you do to him or where did he go" Your voice was steady, not wanting to actually deal with his shit so early in the morning.

"No idea who you are talking about" he lied.

You knew he did but tried to scare him into telling the truth. "I'm gonna shoot you if you don't tell me. and believe me i'm good at cleaning up evidence." Venom was now fully aware what was happening.

"Eddie, tell her" He said in Eddie's head.

"shut up" Eddie whisper yelled making you question his sanity.

"what?" Your gun now slightly pointed away from him.

Eddie took it as his chance to smack you pistol away from him and grabbing you, quickly standing behind you and holding you tightly enough so that you can't move. he still wasn't aware of his whereabouts.

"Let go of her Eddie!" Venom said loudly as he appeared out of Eddie's shoulder. You didn't see him from the angle you were being hold in.

"Venom?! help me out would ya??" you wiggled in his grasp, Your now free hand wrapped around Eddie's.

Now it was Eddie's turn to be confused as he finally glanced around your room. He was about to let go of you but you were quicker to kick him right in the nuts with the heel of you foot. He fell to his knees, cursing at the pain.

You stepped away and was now looking at the sight of some dude half-crying and a smaller version of venom attached to his shoulder.

"What. the. fuck. Nice to have gotten the warning that you are half human" you deadpanned.

"i'm sorry, again" Venom said, his head floating closer to you.

"Yeah yeah, it's okay i guess" You patted the symbiote.

"Have i missed something? i mean, who is is this?" Eddie rubbed his eyes, still not been given the time to properly wake up.

"she's-" Venom started. He blinked a few times "Wait you never told us your name"

You chuckled "You never asked" shrugging your shoulders.

"Eddie Brock" He introduced himself, lifting his hand which you shook hesitantly "y/n l/n"

"So..... can someone explain to me how i got here?" Eddie said awkwardly.

"Well Your friend messed up my hunt and now he want to help me get him. Coffee?" you ask, walking over to the kitchen.

"Yes please"

"Venom?" you questioned, already working on your's and Eddie's drinks.

"You have any chocolate?"

"I'm not sure, let me check" you Looked through the cabinets.

"So why did you drag us into this, Venom?" Eddie murmured quietly while you were busy.

Venom retreaded into Eddie for some more privacy "She is nice"

"Nice?? She pointed a gun at me" He whispered angry.

"And now she is making coffee for you" He had a point, it was just a misunderstanding. besides, he would probably have reacted the same if he found a stranger in his bed. minus the gun then.

"Found it!" you held up a chocolate bar, smiling. Eddie looked away, your smile was adorable. "I know it is" Venom replied in his mind before emerging again.

"There you go big guy" You gave him his treat.

You took the two cups and placed them on the table along with sugar and milk. you sat down at one of the chairs, Eddie doing so as well.

"You mentioned a hunt before, was that some kind of metaphor?" He sipped his hot coffee after he added some sugar.

"No, I'm a bounty hunter" You replied like it was the most normal thing in the world. Eddie chocked on his drink. He did NOT expect that from someone as sweet looking as you.

you patted his back. "that explains the gun for sure"

"Yup and i also wasn't kidding when i said that your buddy caused my hunt to go wrong" You frowned slightly, narrowing your eyes at a particular symbiote munching on his chocolate.

"He can be a handful, i know all about it" He too was now looking annoyed at his symbiote.

Venom noticed and went over to your side, nudging his head against yours. "is he always so clingy btw?" You asked, giggling.

"Not necessary in this way" Eddie chuckled at the sight before him. The two of you talked for a while,enjoying the early morning coffee.

"So how can we help, y/n?" Venom said when your conversation had finally died down.

You both finished your coffee by now and you topped up his again, putting your own cup in the sink "I was thinking that you might be helpful by scanning the news or recent tweets for any information on b/n. there is a picture of him on the table so you know what you're looking for"

"What are you gonna do?" Eddie asked as he whipped out his phone.

"I'm gonna get cleaned up and order us some food and snacks since it's most likely gonna take a while" You grabbed some clean clothes, heading to the bathroom.

"Hey" stopping in your tracks you turned to him once again.

"yes?"

"You're not what i would imagine when someone says bounty hunter"

You really hoped there was a 'but' coming.

"but" he continued "I like it"

You smiled brightly and got into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

"You like her, don't you Eddie?"

"WHAT?!" He started, immediately regretting saying that so loudly. "No i don't" he whispered harshly.

"It's okay, i like her too" Venom said triumphantly, grinning.

"I don't LIKE her you overgrown fungus" Eddie turned on the TV, switching it to a news channel.

"Yes you do"

"No i don't"

"Yes you do!"

"No i don't!" Eddie rose from his seat, slamming his hand on the table.

"Is everything alright in here?" You peeked around the door, your damp hair still clinging partially to your cheeks as you came out.

"Yes of course" Eddie smiled awkwardly.

"Okay?" you said with a suspecting smile.

"feel free to use the bathroom, you reek of alcohol" you added.

Eddie's eyes widened and he smelled his shirt, cringing at the fact that he did indeed smelled like that. "yeah, thanks. I don't have anything to change into though"

You walked to your stuff and went through it. You pulled out some male clothes and threw it to him "here, although i'm not sure if it fits"

"Who's clothes are these?" Venom asked with a hint of jealousy in his rough voice.

"Mine, i usually wear them when i need to go undercover" You told him in a cheery way.

Eddie was relieved at your statement. He didn't quite understand why but he was for sure happy with the clothing. You grabbed your hair brush and did your hair. "i'm gonna go order us some food, you prefer anything?"

"Anything is fine"

"Can we have McDonald's, y/n?" Venom said excitedly.

You looked at Eddie if that was alright, He nodded.

"Good, i have been graving for chicken nuggets since one second ago" You took your phone out and began to order.

Eddie disappeared into the bathroom where you heard the shower turning on. After you were done ordering you opened your laptop and searched for your still-on-the-run bounty, looking at the TV regularly. You also heard the faint sound of arguing coming from the bathroom but you decided to not pay attention to it.

After a while the food had come and Eddie was now sitting beside you on the couch, all of you eating and telling stories and laughing. Time was flying by, you had checked your phone multiple times but there has been nothing special. You now understood that your bounty was keeping a low profile and you will most likely be staying in San Francisco for a lot longer then you hoped. But you had some great company so maybe it wasn't so bad after all.