lycanthropiaa

[cerbreus]

i may be bad at many, many video games. but i am comically bad at rdr2

[gremlingottoosilly]

imaging being an scared but innocent small deer reader getting chased by monster soap in the forest because he thinks it’s fun but Price stopped him

You don't even know who are these monsters!! Ever since the uprising, you were hiding - mostly because the power shift also meant that a smaller, weaker monster like you wouldn't have any protection against the predators. It's a harsh world out here and you have to play by its rules - so, not having anything to protect yourself with, you went into hiding. You feel yourself getting weaker each day. The world had fallen, and there wasn't much food left that wasn't hoarded by humans or stronger monsters - and you'd rather die than go to any of the military bases where you'd be quick to put into meal or next breeding stock. Prey hybrids are pretty popular, after all. So, when you feel someone is hunting you - actually hunting you, even in your human form, you know it must be the end. Poor thing, you thought you could get away with stealing some supplies and leaving traces in the forest... unfortunately, Soap loves this forest - and he loves the new scent you've been adding to it. Soap really wanted to just eat you at first - before he knew you were a hybrid who almost never got in a monster form. A prey that forgot her place in the world - he just has to remind you, right? If it weren't for Price, however, you probably would never leave the forest again. Captain catches on your smell too, knowing there is a fertile, fresh mate hiding somewhere - so when you're finally caught and fucked in the dirt by Soap, who only barely switched from his wolf form, the only thing you can see is his captain, smiling and unbuckling his pants to give you another taste. You were fast, but it only made Johnny more hungry and determined to get you. You really shouldn't have teased them so much...

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Existence Value: Why All of Nature is Important Whether We Can Use it or Not

I spend a lot of time around other nature nerds. We’re a bunch of people from varying backgrounds, places, and generations who all find a deep well of inspiration within the natural world. We’re the sort of people who will happily spend all day outside enjoying seeing wildlife and their habitats without any sort of secondary goal like fishing, foraging, etc. (though some of us engage in those activities, too.) We don’t just fall in love with the places we’ve been, either, but wild locales that we’ve only ever seen in pictures, or heard of from others. We are curators of existence value.

Existence value is exactly what it sounds like–something is considered important and worthwhile simply because it is. It’s at odds with how a lot of folks here in the United States view our “natural resources.” It’s also telling that that is the term most often used to refer collectively to anything that is not a human being, something we have created, or a species we have domesticated, and I have run into many people in my lifetime for whom the only value nature has is what money can be extracted from it. Timber, minerals, water, meat (wild and domestic), mushrooms, and more–for some, these are the sole reasons nature exists, especially if they can be sold for profit. When questioning how deeply imbalanced and harmful our extractive processes have become, I’ve often been told “Well, that’s just the way it is,” as if we shall be forever frozen in the mid-20th century with no opportunity to reimagine industry, technology, or uses thereof.

Moreover, we often assign positive or negative value to a being or place based on whether it directly benefits us or not. Look at how many people want to see deer and elk numbers skyrocket so that they have more to hunt, while advocating for going back to the days when people shot every gray wolf they came across. Barry Holstun Lopez’ classic Of Wolves and Men is just one of several in-depth looks at how deeply ingrained that hatred of the “big bad wolf” is in western mindsets, simply because wolves inconveniently prey on livestock and compete with us for dwindling areas of wild land and the wild game that sustained both species’ ancestors for many millennia. “Good” species are those that give us things; “bad” species are those that refuse to be so complacent.

Even the modern conservation movement often has to appeal to people’s selfishness in order to get us to care about nature. Look at how often we have to argue that a species of rare plant is worth saving because it might have a compound in it we could use for medicine. Think about how we’ve had to explain that we need biodiverse ecosystems, healthy soil, and clean water and air because of the ecosystem services they provide us. We measure the value of trees in dollars based on how they can mitigate air pollution and anthropogenic climate change. It’s frankly depressing how many people won’t understand a problem until we put things in terms of their own self-interest and make it personal. (I see that less as an individual failing, and more our society’s failure to teach empathy and emotional skills in general, but that’s a post for another time.)

Existence value flies in the face of all of those presumptions. It says that a wild animal, or a fungus, or a landscape, is worth preserving simply because it is there, and that is good enough. It argues that the white-tailed deer and the gray wolf are equally valuable regardless of what we think of them or get from them, in part because both are keystone species that have massive positive impacts on the ecosystems they are a part of, and their loss is ecologically devastating.

But even those species whose ecological impact isn’t quite so wide-ranging are still considered to have existence value. And we don’t have to have personally interacted with a place or its natural inhabitants in order to understand their existence value, either. I may never get to visit the Maasai Mara in Kenya, but I wish to see it as protected and cared for as places I visit regularly, like Willapa National Wildlife Refuge. And there are countless other places, whose names I may never know and which may be no larger than a fraction of an acre, that are important in their own right.

I would like more people (in western societies in particular) to be considering this concept of existence value. What happens when we detangle non-human nature from the automatic value judgements we place on it according to our own biases? When we question why we hold certain values, where those values came from, and the motivations of those who handed them to us in the first place, it makes it easier to see the complicated messes beneath the simple, shiny veneer of “Well, that’s just the way it is.”

And then we get to that most dangerous of realizations: it doesn’t have to be this way. It can be different, and better, taking the best of what we’ve accomplished over the years and creating better solutions for the worst of what we’ve done. In the words of Rebecca Buck–aka Tank Girl–“We can be wonderful. We can be magnificent. We can turn this shit around.”

Let’s be clear: rethinking is just the first step. We can’t just uproot ourselves from our current, deeply entrenched technological, social, and environmental situation and instantly create a new way of doing things. Societal change takes time; it takes generations. This is how we got into that situation, and it’s how we’re going to climb out of it and hopefully into something better. Sometimes the best we can do is celebrate small, incremental victories–but that’s better than nothing at all.

Nor can we just ignore the immensely disproportionate impact that has been made on indigenous and other disadvantaged communities by our society (even in some cases where we’ve actually been trying to fix the problems we’ve created.) It does no good to accept nature’s inherent value on its own terms if we do not also extend that acceptance throughout our own society, and to our entire species as a whole.

But I think ruminating on this concept of existence value is a good first step toward breaking ourselves out first and foremost. And then we go from there.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes or hiring me for a guided nature tour, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

[gaelmartinewrites]

the werewolf and you pt iii (nsfw)

it’s been almost a year since you left home. you miss your family, of course but you don’t miss home. this is your home now. in a small cabin with your wolf. you spend most of your days swimming, hiking, and fucking. it’s like a dream but it’s all real and you wouldn’t want it any other way. 

the cabin is small, smaller than the one you lived in with your family, but it’s comfortable. there’s a bed with animal furs for warmth. a chest and chest of drawers are up against the back wall. a small, oak table and matching chairs are placed against the wall near the door. there’s a bearskin rug in front of the fireplace. it’s simple but you don’t need anything more.

your wolf is out hunting. you hope for deer, you’re tired of rabbit, but you’ve gathered all the ingredients to make a delicious stew just in case. 

it’s early afternoon and you’re outside sitting by the lake. the days are getting colder so it’s too cold to go for a swim. a frog jumps in and you watch it swim across. you’re so focused on the frog you don’t hear someone approach you from behind. it’s your wolf, of course. he sweeps you up into his arms and hugs you like he’s been away for years. 

you embrace passionately and kiss even harder. you’re wet instantly and he knows it. but you both know you can’t fuck every second of every day so he puts you down and you both head inside. 

as you walk behind your wolf, you see the two rabbits he caught. they’re a good size and perfect for a stew. he also shows you his satchel full of berries. you ask him if there was anything else out there and he tells you he saw a family of deer heading north but he decided not to go after them. he laughs when you frown, he knows you’re tired of rabbit, but he tells you that there were lots of deer tracks so there’s more somewhere in the forest. he promises to try again in a few days.

you go inside and you start preparing the stew. your wolf stays outside and cleans the rabbit. he’s quick and soon you’re taking your turn on the rabbit. while you cook, your wolf goes outside and cleans up. at home, bathing was done using barely warm water in a steel tub and a bucket. here, your wolf invented a shower system. the water heats up past warm and even though it’s outside it never gets too cold, even in the winter. 

after his shower, he comes in naked. you’re used to it but you still look twice to admire his body. he’s almost 6’4’’. his brown skin taught against his muscles that he earned from his time living in the forest. chopping wood and hauling dead animals have made him strong. you’ve also gained some muscles from your time here. 

he lays on the bed and closes his eyes. you move around the cabin as quietly as you can so you don’t disturb your wolf. once all the ingredients are in the cast iron pot, you place it in the fireplace to cook. you open the door and windows to let out the rising heat. 

you crawl into bed with your wolf and you close your eyes too. you’re not very tired but the heat radiating from your wolf lulls you to sleep. you don’t sleep long. the smell of the stew wakes you and you immediately get up to check it. it’s only been cooking for at least half an hour, it still needs another hour or so.

your wolf is still in bed but he’s no longer asleep. he’s leaning his head against the wall with a hand on his hardening cock. he looks at you with hunger in his eyes. like you’re something to hunt but it excites you. you’re quickly back in bed with his cock in your mouth.

you’re slow at first but your wolf’s cock hardens quickly. you take your time with the head while you hold his balls with one free hand. you squeeze and he moans. he brushes your hair back and whispers “good girl”. hearing him praise you makes you even wetter. you move down until your nose is in his hairy base. his cock is down your throat and you chock. you stay there for a moment, inhaling his scent and tasting his saltiness in your mouth.

you’re so wet you’re dripping. you feel a drop run down your thigh. you feel like you’re on fire and you can’t take it anymore. you want him inside you. you pop his cock out of your mouth and you lean forward for a kiss. you pull away quickly to undress then your lips are back on his. you kiss him hard while you position yourself on top of him. your wolf holds himself while you sit on his cock. you gasp in relief as you take him inside of you. you position yourself until you’re comfortable and then you move your hips slowly. he feels so good inside of you. like it’s where he belongs. you can’t keep track of how many times you’ve fucked but every time feels like the first time. like it’s a new experience for the both of you.

your wolf smiles as he holds you closer. you loom over him with your hands pressed against the wall. a growl escapes his teeth and you moan with each thrust. he tucks your hair behind your ear. he grabs a fistful and pulls. you jerk your head back and moan at the motion. he holds your hair tightly for a while before moving down to your throat and wrapping his large hand around it.

you feel the pressure from his fingers but you can still breath alright. you decide to follow suit and you wrap both your hands around his thick throat. you both stay that way for a few seconds before your wolf decides it’s his turn to take control.

without separating, he lifts you off the bed and then he puts you on the floor, on top of the bearskin rug. he thrusts inside you a few times before changing positions. he pulls out, flips you over, then he’s inside you again. you’re on your knees, back arched, and your face is pressed against the animal fur. your wolf grabs your arms and pulls them back. he fucks you harder and faster.

you scream in ecstacy with each thrust. you beg for more. you beg for him to go faster. you beg for him to go harder. to go deeper. you beg for him to never stop. he grunts behind you and you can tell he’s close to cumming. you’re almost there too. you want to cum together so you hold on until you feel your wolf tense. the walls of your pussy constrict around his delicious cock. you feel him shoot his load inside you and you cry at how good it feels. he collapses on top of you. you both fall into a sweaty tired mess on the floor. 

you both pant in unison. he pulls out and puts you on your back. you’re too tired to go again but you're willing for your wolf. you wait for him to reinsert himself again but he kisses your forehead instead. when he pulls away he looks you in the eyes and tells you he’s starving. you laugh and you pull him in for another kiss. 

your legs are weak but you're able to stand up and walk over to the fireplace. you check the pot and the stew is almost ready. it just needs another five minutes. you step outside while your wolf sets the table. the cool air feels good against your skin. your hair is a mess and you smooth it out with your hands as best as you can.

you go back inside and serve the stew. you eat until you’re full. you decide to save the dishes for later. you’re so tired. you and your wolf climb back into bed, and you fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillow.

[cultofdixon]

I love you, please don’t push me away

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • “Can I see it…�� “since when did you start to care about me again?” “I’ve lost too much. I ain’t gonna lose yea now” • ANGST/SFW • TW: Canon Violence [Mentioned] / Injuries / Messy Confessions / Anxiety Attacks / Nightmares / PTSD

Requested by: Anon

Nothing tears these two apart, well. Except that time with the Governor but every fiber of their being magnetized toward the other.

Y/N and Daryl, inseparable. But never an item even if there is a running bet between Rick and Carol over how long it’ll take.

The run down?

Daryl never saw himself relate with any of the other members in the quarry. Except for this other lone wolf type that would wander out of bounds to hunt, like him. And ignore Shane’s stupid rule, like him and Merle. And also have a short fuse just like him.

He stumbled across this person during his own hunt finding the woman bashing in the skull of a walker. She turned around when she noticed she was stumbled upon by a living being, her body relaxed when realizing who it was. Which was a new feeling to Daryl.

“Shane sent yea out or what”

“Nah fuck that pig. Was tracking a deer”

“You mean that deer” The woman pointed to the hanging animal from the tree as Daryl gave the whole scene a concerned look. “Camping tips can help in the end of the world”

“Bear tactics”

“Exactly. Tie up your shit so bears don’t get it. But hell you’ve got sickos. Might as well apply those tactics to these fucks” She kicked the dead creature while pulling out her knife. “I’m uh. Y/N. By the way…you ain’t very talkative in the camp”

“Neither are yea.” He scoffs. “‘M Daryl”

“Welp. Now you’ve got a friend.” Y/N untied the deer letting it hit the ground by Daryl’s feet. “And if we’re gonna be friends. You can carry that for me, to avoid the Walker guts getting on everybody’s dinner”

“What do I get for doing this?”

“Mmm…I’m pretty good at making arrows” Y/N shrugs watching the pondering look grow on Daryl’s face before he knelt down and picked up the deer heading back to the camp while she happily follows behind.

That first moment brought an instant connection that Daryl didn’t realize. Until he got shitty news.

“You left my brother? On a fucking roof?” Daryl snaps and right before the archer got close to hitting the stranger, Y/N stepped between the two along with Shane’s help. Not that she needed it.

“Who do you think you are to make that decision?”

“Rick Grimes, deputy—-“

“Nah. I ain’t dealing with another pig thinking he can boss everybody around” Y/N cuts him off as she stood her ground even if it didn’t entirely involve her. “How would you feel if you were left behind? Left for dead” She knew her words struck a few in the crowd, specifically Shane and Lori.

“I was left behind” Rick suddenly got up in Y/N’s face not liking her attitude but right as he did, Daryl didn’t hesitate to loom from behind her making him back up.

“And how the fuck did that make you feel?”

That brought a lot of her character out to Daryl and everyone else. She was defensive and it was clear, when she gets close to someone…she has to protect them in some way.

When the invasion happened on the camp, Daryl never been more driven by his anxiety and his fear until he thought he’d lose the closest person he’s liked in the longest time. He took out a walker coming up behind Y/N when she wasn’t paying attention. The thankful look in her eyes spoke enough even if after taking care of the walkers, Daryl subtly scanned her person as he helped the others pile up the dead.

The plan to head to the CDC was a gamble, but the ride there brought more out of the two. Given Y/N loaded up in Daryl’s truck not wanting to be stuck in the RV.

“Why’d yea defend me back when we found out they left Merle?”

“Honest?”

“Mhm”

“He’s your family, whether he annoys you or not…you’d still want him in your life” Y/N leaned her head against the window fiddling with the ends of her sleeves. “And hell. I’m done letting others walk all over people. Just cuz they haven’t been in their shoes before”

Daryl felt himself grip the steering wheel wanting to ask a question but given the lighthearted feel going on between the two, he didn’t want to taint it full of uncomfortable tension.

“Who did yea lose”

“My baby brother” Y/N frowns reaching into her backpack taking out a journal that held a Polaroid of the two on a camping trip with their parents. “I…I don’t think he’s dead but, haven’t found him since outbreak day and Glenn took me back to that camp even when every fiber of my being didn’t want to stop looking”

“Do yea entirely trust these people?”

“I trust you. But that’s cuz you’re not keeping bullshit. Yea state yer mind if you have to. Hopefully the new world doesn’t beat that out of yea”

The CDC was a weird experience. A time to feel like they were in the old world once more. Just under a different roof and drowning out reality with alcohol.

Daryl was the last to shower even if it took him some time to get there given the man had drank a bit too much. But as he entered the room he was sharing with the other single in their group, which obviously was Y/N. She lifted her head to the sound of stumbling and saw the exhaustion rise in his expression as he stumbles onto the couch she sat on. She tossed her book on her bag giving Daryl an opportunity to use her lap as a pillow turning toward her and laying there in silence for a moment. Closing his eyes and doing the best he could to fall asleep even when a part of him fought to stay awake to spend this time with Y/N. Y/N on the other hand, pulled the blanket from her shoulders and covered the man laying on her…resting a hand on his side feeling him shift to get comfortable mumbling a bit to himself.

“Don’t ever wanna lose yea…”

Those words struck a bit to Y/N and even if he didn’t remember saying that last night, she knew by the way he covered her when Rick tossed the grenade to escape the CDC…

That he meant it.

Their bond was growing to others in a beautiful way but to the pair it was weird…confusing…and a bit beautiful in its own way. But it brought certain anxiety that the other never wanted to feel in a world like this.

The farm became a temporary safe haven, and the word temporary was definitely engraved in few’s minds because of how Hershel felt toward them. At first it was to save Carl’s life and thankfully he did…next was to fix what Andrea did.

“Oh my god. Is he alive—-“

“Step the fuck back” Y/N snaps at the poor girl who kept her distance from the situation. And Y/N. The bitch scared her.

“At least we have some idea of where Sophia can be. Now we can retrace Daryl’s steps”

“Nah, I’m comin’ with yea”

“You won’t be doing much activity at least for a few days.” Hershel reminds him of his injuries only for the archer to grow annoyed but his frustration grew slightly when he noticed Y/N glaring at him.

Once he was left alone after Carol gave him his dinner and a thanks for never giving up on her daughter, Y/N came in about an hour later with clothes for him and before she even made it to the door…Daryl grabbed her wrist.

“What’s up yours? Yea been quiet since I came back or well until after yea scared the shit out of Andrea. Yeah fucking Rick told me what happened the—-“ Daryl stopped speaking when he saw the tears in her eyes making him let go and her freeze like a deer in headlights.

“You shouldn’t have gone out by yourself”

“Y/N, I did what I had to. Others given up”

“Don’t. Go. By. Yourself.” Y/N hissed wiping away the tears that started to burn. “Yea ain’t alone anymore. Ain’t needing to do this shit by yourself and get yourself killed. Yea may think nobody would care if you were gone but somebody does. So watch it.” She frowns leaving on that note.

Daryl didn’t know that she felt that way toward him and there were plenty of other moments like that. For either of them.

The reunion on the freeway after the farm went up in flames. Daryl got Carol out of there on his bike, feeling his anxiety get the best of him when he didn’t find Y/N until she came running through the woods and he didn’t hesitate for a second to run at her. Bringing the tired girl into his embrace thankful she didn’t die in the flames or in the mouths of the undead.

The time the group raided Woodbury to save their own and Daryl was shoved out of the way of a bullet that embedded into Y/N’s shoulder. Thank god Hershel got it out. When he came back after leaving the first time with his brother, he couldn’t get that mental image of the disappointment written all over her face. But that was all forgiven, given she would’ve left too if it was her problematic brother.

Once the fight of Woodbury was done and people were flooding into the prison, making itself its own community…Daryl felt a sense of jealousy when watching others outside of their original group talk to Y/N who seem to be expanding their social circle. He was brewing and it was obvious to Carol.

“You’re gonna blow a fuse”

“What?” Daryl brought his attention back to reality and noticed Carol joining him beside him. “Shit.”

“What? Got spotted? We all know how much you like’er. Why didn’t yea do anything sooner?”

“It’s the end of the world.”

“Okay. Stating the obvious. So?” Carol elbows him to be told more as Daryl kept his eyes on Y/N watching her turn to him shooting him a smile.

“If I act on my feelings, and worry about another…on that level, I’ll lose her”

Carol knew Daryl felt a bit at fault for Sophia dying, including his own brother. But Y/N is a strong person. Hell she’s the one that saved them back at the outbreak in the quarry, she knows that girl can hold her ground…and she knows, how much he means to her.

“You won’t lose her…Don’t push her away”

Those words rang through his head as he found himself smoking outside the prison walls and Y/N joining him after her shift in the watchtower. The silence grew between the two even if they spent most of their time together in comfortable silence. But this was different and Y/N knew this.

“Did I do somethin’?”

“Nah” Daryl tosses the cigarette on the floor putting it out with his foot. “This ain’t worth it”

“What’s not?” She furrowed her brows confused at first as Daryl got up from his spot. “Daryl—“

“This!” He gestures to the two of them with a growing frown on his face. “It ain’t fucking worth worrying about. I can’t live like this for the rest of my life. Stressin’ over what might happen” and it clicked to Y/N as her eyes met his only for him to turn away. “Don’t. I can’t.”

“Daryl but—-“

“No. We can’t”

Another word was said because Daryl went back inside leaving Y/N outside to think about what the hell just happened. But more importantly…just…break.

The two haven’t really talked since then. Or hung around the other. The only time they would interact is when Rick asked them to go on a run, or for the council meetings for their small community. Daryl expanded and got close with other people while Y/N found herself back in the same mindset at the quarry before she extended herself to Daryl.

In the end you’re on your own.

But that never lasted because of the connection she had with him and with the others. The sickness, her angry feelings were pushed aside so that she could work with him on getting the medicine. Then when it got to their people, Y/N distanced herself from Daryl once more. This time his regret settled in in its entirety and wasn’t expressed until after the attack.

“Aren’t you and Y/N supposed to be close?”

“Why’re you bringing that up…”

“Getting to know you I guess” Beth frowns sitting across from the archer fiddling with some thread around his wrist.

“She was my best friend, that I love…and pushed away”

Beth watched as the pain when saying such brought its expression in his frown and the tears that he tried desperately not to fall.

…

“And I don’t think I’ll ever get him back” Y/N frowns sitting with Michonne in front of the fire she made for them.

“Daryl’s strong. He’ll come back to you. Even if…you two aren’t anything but friends. You two just. Gravitate toward each other naturally”

Y/N shot Michonne a smile when she said such, but during her watch while the swordsman slept, she couldn’t help the tears that fell off her face.

Michonne was right about the two gravitating toward each other. They always found the other in whatever situation they were in. Even if the most recent was the incident with the claimers, then the other with the general hospital, and finally reaching Alexandria.

And Y/N needed a minute.

“Y/N. Deanna only agreed to yea going out if it’s—-“

“I’m just sticking close. Won’t even need a goddamn car. I just. I need a minute. And I can’t get that in another confined area” Y/N frowns already geared up to head out of Alexandria. “I’ll be back before it’s too late in the day, and if I’m not. Then you can come and get me…”

Rick gave the girl a worried look, but agreed to let her go. He didn’t trust it there either and was surprised by how others are settling in.

When the sherif headed back to his group’s houses, he found Daryl standing outside of the one Carol took up with Y/N. He looked anxious from what he got first spotting the archer.

“Hey”

Daryl quickly turned toward his brother seeing the confused look. “What”

“What are you waitin’ for?”

“Courage. Fuck if I know”

“Courage for what?” Rick brought himself closer as Daryl stepped away from the door to sit on the steps.

“To talk to Y/N again. Repair what I fucking tore apart back at the prison…Before Beth and I got separated, she told me not to let a good thing go. And Carol snapped at me one of the first nights here about the same thing”

“Well. I hate to break it to yea. But she ain’t home” Rick watches the archer shot up from his spot with a you serious? look on his face. “Yeah. She needed some air. Stepped out of Alexandria”

“And yea think she’s gonna come back? After all the shit I fuckin’ said”

“You said back at the prison. Some part of her wouldn’t leave from something that happened some time ago. And there will always be a part of her, connected to yea at all times.” Rick put his hands on his hips. “She doesn’t like it here just like you. So she needed a breather.”

“If she doesn’t come back before night fall—-“

“We’ll go get’er. Alright?” He reassures the man before going back on his patrol.

She made it before nightfall.

Emphasize on the “made it” part.

“Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to help in the infirmary” Spencer, one of Deanna’s sons, got up in Y/N’s face when she first stepped back in. More so caring about the fact that she wasn’t at her job compared to the amount of blood on her. “What the fuck did you do?”

Few residence, more so her group coming close to listen to someone they didn’t know go off on one of their own.

“Why did you ignore Dean—-“

“Your mother’s.”

“Fine. My mother’s orders. You had a job to do and instead you went out doing who knows what outside the walls. Don’t you like it here? Don’t you like being safe here for once? Clearly yea—-“

“Step away from her now.” Michonne cuts in once she noticed the fists Y/N formed and the shaking her body was undergoing. “Some of us are still adjusting. You need to understand that and if you don’t, talk to your mother or I’ll let her hurt you” she states watching him stand his ground one last time.

“Turn in the weapons you took out, then I’ll—“ Spencer stops to the sound of Y/N’s bag dropping to the ground and watching her unclip the magazine of her gun and unloaded the one in the chamber before handing it to Michonne and walking past.

Y/N avoided everyone’s looks and focused on getting back to Carol’s. Even if every fiber of her being wanted to collapse in the middle of Alexandria and let the darkness settle in. But none of them knew what was happening. She just continued on her way.

“Where the hell have you been?” Carol asks when she heard the door open ignoring the rest of what Daryl was saying. Granted it was about the girl that entered.

“Needed air. Got too much of it” Y/N chokes up a bit gripping onto the stairs’ railing with one hand as the other went straight for her side taking her hand off to see the blood soaking through. “I’m gonna shower. Too much Walker blood…but uh. Is the first aid kit in the bathroom?”

Carol pulled herself away from the kitchen counter heading toward Y/N who had her back turned to her on the steps. While Daryl slide off the bar stool bringing himself within earshot.

“What happened?”

“I just cut my hand…”

“You’re covered in blood. Is it—-“

“It’s not mine. Just walkers I got stuck dealing with”

“Are you bit?”

“I wouldn’t have come back if I was” She felt a lot of the pain return to her body in that moment as she continued on the way to the bathroom leaving both confused.

You’ve always been a disappointment Y/N.

Hell. Look at me. Finally proving to this world that I’m worth something

Y/N couldn’t stand and found herself sitting in the shower letting the water wash off the dried blood but also the running. She held onto the edge of the tub feeling everything as she tried her best not to stream in pain.

Her body flinched to the sound of knocking and that resulted in the pain induced tears to finally shed.

“What.”

“Got you clothes” Daryl states from the other side of the door with clothes in hand but he couldn’t help his eyes from wandering around the room to see the blood soaked clothes and the hand print on the door. “Y/N. What happened?”

“Please…go away, Daryl”

“Nah…not this time” Daryl pressed his forehead against the door. “I ain’t leaving and I know you’re hurt…”

“I-I…” Y/N sobbed gripping harder onto the ceramic trying not to focus on the pain in her side.

“Can I see it…” He felt his heart clench hearing her wince from the other side of the door followed by choked off sobs.

“since when did you start to care about me again?”

Daryl sighs tossing the clothes on the dresser by the door and resting his hands on it. “I’ve lost too much. I ain’t gonna lose yea now” he frowns not hearing any sound come out from the other side. “Y/N?”

Something’s wrong…

There’s always been something wrong and he knew there was more to it. She just wanted to take care of it without anyone realizing. But of course she couldn’t get past the person who holds her heart.

The door was suddenly kicked open and Y/N had no strength to react except for bringing her eyes to follow his movements. Daryl gently took a hold of her face seeing the damage there along with what was happening to the rest of her body. He quickly turns off the water and as his lips moved, she didn’t register a single thing. All she did was close her eyes.

“You…were always their favorite” The youngest L/N shook in his sister’s embrace feeling the end draw near as Y/N couldn’t help the tears that spilled. “I never…got to show’em up…”

“I should have never stopped looking…I shouldn’t have left home…left you”

“Mm…” He coughs a bit as the blood splattered on Y/N’s face. “It don’t matter anymore…T-This is what I d-deserve…”

“No…no you didn’t. I should’ve found you…you would’ve loved the people I’m with…this is my fault” Y/N sobbed holding her brother tighter as he gave her one last smile.

“Yea survived…just keep doing so”

As the breath faded from his lungs and more of his group surrounded the house they were held up in. Y/N had to pull it together long enough to take care of the rest, even on her last legs. Because she would’ve found a way to bring her brother in, but as for the others?

No one is following her back to her family.

A soft groan escapes her lips, alerting the archer sitting beside her bed. He brought his chair closer carefully taking her hand into his thinking she would reject it, but instead she gave it a firm squeeze indicating some of her strength is back and that she didn’t want him to go.

“Yea lost a lot of blood…and I got mad at the surgeon here”

“Mm. Typical Daryl behavior” Y/N sighs gently grazing her thumb against his knuckles. “Last I remember…was being in the shower”

“You were in the bath as the shower ran. I don’t know how Imma explain the blood bath, literally, to Carol. But she did help me get yea here” Daryl frowns seeing the exhaustion in her expression but more focused on the black eye and bruised cheek on her left side when she turned to him. “Carried yea out in a blanket. Got bitchy when he lingered too close”

“Please tell me I got dressed after…that someone helped me. And the strange man that stared at me when we first met didn’t see my goods long”

“Imma kill him next time he does, but nah. Maggie came in with clothes”

“Everybody knows?”

“Doesn’t know why. But yeah…I…I did come running out, Y/N. Yelling for somebody. Felt…lost.” He frowns, straightening up when Y/N started to sit up. The grimace growing on her face made Daryl feel as if an ice pick went straight for his heart.

Y/N watches as Daryl got up from his seat he went to grab another blanket when he felt her grip tighten and a wince escape her lips from him pulling.

“Sorry—-I’m sorry. Fuck. I just—-“

“I can do without another…please just sit with me” She begged and she had the same look on her face like she did at the time of their fight in the prison. Something he’ll never forget. “I don’t…I can’t stand another second without you. Even if it’s just a few feet away…”

Instead of sitting in the chair, Daryl brought himself to sit on the edge of the bed holding her hand seeing the bruises on her knuckles. He kept finding more of what happened…and it upset him not knowing.

“Daryl…”

“Yeah?”

“Just ask”

Daryl didn’t want to. He didn’t want to know the pain she endured and how it happened. But he wanted to know who he had to fuck up.

“I got ambushed…by raiders in masks. I took out like…four of them…got the shiner and knocked down by the fifth…only to shoot him right in the ribs and as he dropped..” She squeezed her eyes shut biting the inside of her cheek trying to stop the tears. “I found out…it was my brother…” the tears fell stating such as Daryl soften squeezing her hand with the one she held while the other carefully wiped them away. “Then when he died…I couldn’t risk the others following…and took them out…even if it almost killed me”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s…well, it’s not fine. But that’s keeping me going. Just saying it is…that he’s not in this hell of a world anymore…”

“never looked at it like that…when Merle died. Took the blame and ran with it”

“You carry too much of the blame for things…when a good chunk of it was never your fault” Y/N frowns tugging him forward enough for her to lean comfortably forward pressing her forehead against his. “This is one of’em. You blame yourself. I break your knee caps. This wasn’t your fault…”

“I should’ve never hurt yea back at the prison…I missed you. I miss you and you’re right here”

“Daryl…” Y/N brought her soft, tiny hands to hold the archer’s face feeling him relax in her touch. “I love you…so please, don’t push me away”

The tears that fell between the two was found in comfortable silence. Only a comfort the two share with each other. Daryl moved her hands so that he could gently bring her into his embrace holding her.

“I won’t…I promise”

[cuphead-dragons]

OMGOMGOMGOMG GIVE FUN FACTS ABOUT EVERYONES DRAGON COUNTERPART PLEEEEASE

First I wanted to set some things up Dragons are pack and social animals in my au, having similar family groups to that of a wolf pack, called a flock instead. (No, there is not 'alpha' there's a breeding pair, subordinates (older offspring) older hatchlings and young/newborn hatchlings) So because of this, seeing a lone dragon isn't very common unless they're a dispersal looking for a mate. Even injured members are cared for the best the others can do, they won't kick them from the "flock" While it's common to see dragons living close together in more human like communities minus buildings and such and more so socially, they still get incredibly territorial and will fight eachother over food sources. One flock of 4-5 dragons can eat about 4 deer in a day for example. (if there's two parents each of them will eat 1, and if there's 3 hatchlings, shared between them they'll eat 2.) Dragons mate for life, not searching for a new mate when theirs dies, so there's something wrong when it's a one off to pass on genes, or if it's alone in general. Likely got chased away from any chances of being in a flock. Another thing, flocks will take in other dragons. Especially if they're already familiar with them, such as family that's too old to survive on its own, or a parent with a hatchling that lost their partner. So again, if a dragon is alone, they're likely a menace.

Cuphead and Mugman

Obviously the main focus of this blog. The boys are juveniles and very destructive because of that. Definitely lets... others know where their flock is. They get into places and mess with creatures they shouldn't.

Elder Kettle

Lives in the same territory as his grandchildren. He watches over them as cautiously as he can when their parents are on a hunt or expanding territory. Though, he is old, and can only keep up for so long.

Morningstar (The Devil)

Unlike the rest, he is indeed a unicorn, particularly a nightmare unicorn. Unicorns in many a folklore are enemies to dragons, and that's true in my stories. He's not in a constant state of flame like in some tales, and instead only becomes charged when angry or actively trying to cause harm. No magic comes from his horn, but it's still a sharp and deadly weapon. Has mass hatred for unicorns for casting him away to the dragons for being dangerous, and dragons casting him away for being a unicorn. He finds himself alone, taunting with those who come near to make them miserable.

Dice

A dragon gone rogue with the enemy, he used to be close to Cuphead and Mugman's parents. Until some time before they were born and Dice ended up being suspicious, and was chased away near where Morningstar lives. So, he ended up being around the one he was conspiring with anyways.

Chalice

Still a juvenile, but younger than the brothers, she gets them into plenty more problems. (Orphan too)

Tea and Joe

The loving and protective parents of Cuphead and Mugman, they worry about the things their oldest hatchlings get into. Nothing bad will become of that, right? ... There ARE other characters, but these are the mains. If you're curious about any others, feel free to ask! ^^ (I'll also be making a seperate post for other ocs soon) (the bgs represent their territories btw)

[muffinsin]

Hey, Merry Christmas Eve / Hanukkah / whatever you celebrate, if you do,

I was wondering if I could request dani going into the woods to hunt and crossing paths with a werewolf s/o with a G!P and knots dani?

Love the breeding kink requests and have lowkey gotten into omega verse stuff but mostly for knoting and how it ties in with breeding stuff.

Thank you! The same goes to you and all who read this! :)

Absolutely! Our Dani needs some good knotting ;) Switched about a few times with the writing style and settled on one that isn’t in the reader’s POV this time! Depending on how it’s received I’m considering writing more works this way, with reader-pov’s obviously staying as a main part of all my posts. Also had a few ideas of how this one would go down, settled on this however- I might post short versions of the other scenarios that played on my mind! ;)

Anyway, let’s get into it!😙

Masterlist

She skipped ahead eagerly, sickle summoned in her hand and halfway swarming, so her feet barely touched the ground and she felt the warm sun on every part of her.

Daniela loved summer.

She heard a noise in the distance and snickered. A lycan's roar. So Lord Heisenberg had released them already.

She grinned; she would be sure to tell Cassandra too.

They always had so much fun playing with the lycans! Even mother approved, smug when the other Lord complained to her about his mauled and, or, stupid looking monsters. She always claimed her darling daughters merely had their fun.

And they did, when they giggled and made the wolf chase them, knowing Heisenberg's pathetic creations would never compare to them. Daniela snickered at a particular memory in her mind, of Cassandra holding a beast tightly while Daniela gave it a little bit of a makeover.

In the end, its fur was cut so that little hearts littered the skin. Lord Heisenberg had been so mad, it was hilarious! Mother was so pleased with them too!

Yet, a lycan was not something she was looking for. No, she wished for something else entirely. The perfect prey!

With summer having approached and the temperatures high enough for them to hunt all day, she knew her task as clear as day.

She wanted to find the perfect prey for her mother.

Sure, the woman was proud of everything that was brought back to her, but nonetheless Daniela wished to show her worth. After all, not only Cassandra could hunt mighty beasts.

She kept moving, eyes naturally catching wolves and lycan's howls.

At last, after only a little while, she found her prey.

A beautiful deer, it's short fur soft and clean, almost golden looking. She grinned- no one, even Cassandra, beat her as it came to catching deers. She was the fastest sister by far, best suited for such a fast animal.

She approached with caution, her sickle drawn and a smirk on her lips. This would make such a fine meal!

The predator attacked when the animal's head was turned away, laughing maniacally as her sickle dug into its skin.

It ran, and Daniela followed. Its speed didn't compare to hers in the slightest.

Another slash. The poor prey kept running.

She giggled, eagerly chasing. She knew she would win this and already pictured her family's reactions to the deer.

Cassandra, her proud older sister that Daniela looked up to. She knew her sister would praise her for her work and eagerly dig in. Even help Daniela set up a trophy if she asked her to.

Then Bela, the eldest sister. Daniela also looked up at her, the perfect and beautiful and smart sister. She grinned as she chased the deer, picturing Bela's pleased smile as she stroked her hair and scratched her scalp as a reward for her work well done. She loved Bela's attention, truly. The blonde was always so busy, Daniela sucked up every bit of attention she could get from her older sister. In a way, she knew she couldn't become like Bela. She still dreamt of it, though.

And Mother, of course. Daniela's grin brightened even more. Yes, Mother would praise her so much! Her large hand set on Daniela’s shoulder as she did. She would even let her have the first bite!

She laughed in anticipation.

Another slash, at the animal’s legs. This one at last caused it to fall. The redhead smirked proudly, her sickle disappearing as the leaned down. Good, her precious prey was not dirtied or damaged too much. She wiped away the blood, eager for her family to see the beautiful fur.

Just as she was about to lift it, another scent caught her nose. She turned, spotting the large cave entrance in the short distance. She didn’t remember hearing about this from any of her sister’s stories. Nor had she ever found it.

She simply had to know what was hidden inside.

The deer forgotten and on the ground, the redhead advanced. She rested her gloved hand on the cave’s entrance. She heard a heartbeat from within, so the cave must not be all that deep or big.

She stepped inside, her nostrils flaring as she picked up the scent of blood, sweat, tears and- she blushed, all too familiar with the scent of sex that still lingered in the air. The redhead jumped when she stepped on something that cracked. Upon looking down, she saw the bone under her shoe. She frowned- the ground was littered with bones.

Was this some large predator’s cave? She grinned- if she brought this one home, even Cassandra would be shocked!

She ventured farther into the cave, stepping over bones and bodies. She recognised some of the women on the ground, servants that had escaped or been set free to be hunted down. She had already forgotten all about them.

She noted the blood on the walls- some was fresh, most was not.

At last, she found the beast, it seemed. Its large body hunched over as it nibbled on a corpse.

Daniela summoned her sickle. Her prey was huge, rivalling varcolacs in its size. She gulped.

Perhaps she could come back with Ca-

“Ah!”, she shrieked in surprise when a clawed hand shot out to her. Naturally, she dodged the attack. Her heart beat quickly. It seemed she would need to do this on her own.

The beast looked as though it frowned for a moment, as if confused about Daniela’s ability to swarm. She certainly made for a difficult opponent, she thought with a smirk.

The woman launched herself at the prey, her sickle raised and ready to dig into its flesh. And so it did, her sharp weapon tip digging into the beast’s shoulder as it roared in pain.

She laughed as it dropped to the floor. It was certainly easier to slay than she thought. When she brought it home, she would need to make up a different story of how she had slain it!

Too absorbed in her own “success”, the woman did not notice her opponent’s trick. She smirked as she reached for her sickle, yet yelled when her ankle was grabbed by a large hand and she was lifted, hands squeezing her painfully tight as though to ensure she didn’t escape the beast’s grasp again.

”Unhand me!” She shrieked angrily. The other creature just stared at her, until its head moved closer. She tensed for a moment, then cringed as she felt a long, wet tongue drag against her face.

”Stop that!”, she demanded. She would not smell of some mutt!

And yet, she watched with wide eyes as its snout pressed against her stomach instead, between its clawed fingers. She squirmed slightly in its hold.

A blush overtook her face and she shrieked when she felt the snout push below her dress. “Hey!”, she gasped. She then had time to take in the creature and match the pieces of this puzzle.

The many dead bodies, all of them women. The scent of sex in the air. The tongue across her face and neck and the snout now exploring her thighs. She gulped when she saw the large tip of the monster’s cock stand at attention. She felt an ache between her legs. It had been so long since she’s had anything but a maiden, she practically ached for what she knew was about to happen.

”Let me”, she whispered seductively, unsure whether the creature even heard her. She giggled as she swarmed and it roared angrily, yet watched her as she peeled her dress off her slim, curved body.

Daniela was left in only her panties, which she slowly pulled down. She would not include this part in her story, she thought with a blush. She couldn’t help feeling so ratty, jumping at the opportunity of such a large cock in her. It was so very rare she had them, she once even allowed herself to be filled by a lycan.

She dropped to her knees, hands wrapping around the beast’s exposed cock. It was pink and long, erect and sported a round knot at the base. She swallowed, her mouth and throat dry.

A growl came from the wolf. She leaned forwards, tasting the meat. Her thighs pressed together as she felt arousal spread in her body.

At the first brush of her tongue against the large cock, it twitched to attention. She moaned at the taste and scent of the wolf. It smelled unique, in a way. A large, clawed hand set on the back of her head. She gasped as she was pushed forwards.

The thing seemed surprisingly human for an animal, she thought, humming as her lips wrapped around the tip and the creature growled.

She gasped when her lower half was lifted, looking up as she was lifted and turned, her head smudged against the monster’s long dick. She blushed bright red and hot when she felt the long, wet tongue drag between her legs and lick broadly alongside her slit. A moan slipped from her lips and her hips moved slightly. She gasped when she felt the creature’s claw cut into her due to this, resulting in dark blood running down up hip and towards her breasts.

Her hair hung freely below her and she groaned when she was lowed suddenly, the large cock pushing against her face. “Give me a minute!”, she complained, giggling as she licked alongside it. She gasped at another lick between her legs.

A growl from the creature. She felt too warm already, yet tried to keep her composure. She was a Dimitrescu! She was not technically meant to let a creature this vile defile her. Oh, but it felt so good.

She wrapped her lips and hand around the monstrosity between the creature’s legs, moaning and smiling as in return she felt its long and thick tongue work between her legs, licking her and rubbing along her clit, the strange, rough texture of it bringing her immense pleasure.

Daniela hummed as she sucked and stroked, her hands barely unable to wrap around the cock. She felt strange being held in the air, upside down no less, and her head spun as she felt the thing’s tongue push inside.

”Goood”, she groaned, pulling away for a moment to breathe. The position made it difficult to suck the cock. It seemed her newest pet- she had decided to keep this one the moment it licked her- knew of this.

She shrieked in surprise when she was moved, lips back around the cock as she was lifted and lowered, the tongue inside her rubbing her and pleasuring her while the dick slid deep in and out her throat.

Humming and moaning, she felt nothing but the pleasure that was inflicted on her. Her senses were on fire as she was brought closer and closer to the orgasm.

Daniela shrieked and groaned in annoyance when she was yanked again, turned and facing the beast. She considered a snarky remark, but all words were taken from her and air was knocked out her lungs when she was shoved down on the erect cock below her, her legs twitching and her cunt on fire. She fisted the wolf’s fur and threw her head back. She felt heavy balls slapping against her ass as she was taken roughly, rougher than she ever had been taken.

Another growl from the creature. She moaned at the large hand settling on her ass cheek, groping. She whimpered at the scratch caused by sharp claws and the blood drips on her pale skin.

For a moment, her thoughts lingered on collaring her newest pet. She giggled, slurred moans passing her pump lips, at the thought of dragging it behind her on a leash.

Cassie would be so jealous!

Daniela gasped as the rough tongue dragged alongside her neck again, uncaring of the necklace that hugged her throat.

She felt high, almost, on the pleasure, and almost torn in two by the monstrosity between her legs. She wouldn’t have it any other way, really.

She came without warning and groaned when the animal kept going. She tugged the fur, words slurred as the pleasure simply kept going. She felt the knot push against her entrance, yet it didn’t enter her.

“P-Pet”, she groaned, her back arched. She whimpered as she felt her harder, second orgasm approaching. Her new pet felt so good in her. Daniela felt its tongue drag alongside her bare shoulder. She whined when she felt its sharp teeth against it.

”G-Good, more”, she demanded. She gasped in surprise when she felt cum shoot inside of her, the feeling foreign and erotic to her, the wolf’s cock twitching and trembling inside of her. She came too, when sharp teeth dug inside her shoulder.

She whimpered when she turned her head and saw the bite placed on her. Blood surrounded the bite mark and smeared on her skin and the wolf’s fur. She shrieked when she was suddenly let go of, swarming barely in time to avoid more aching muscles.

Her eyes widened when she heard a chuckle. Upon turning, she felt confusion and arousal yet again. The previously hairy, large monster turned into a human-ish looking woman.

A woman with muscles and of large size, and with a ridiculously arousing smirk. Daniela’s confusion must have been obvious. Her eyes widened and she gasped when her eyes trailed down the woman’s front, down her breasts and back between her legs, where she still sported an erect and full cock. The knot was still on it. Daniela squirmed, overly aware of the cum drooling out her stretched hole.

She gasped in surprise when the unnaturally strong woman pulled her arm, pushing her up against the cave’s cold wall. She groaned at the feeling. Was this woman infected by the cadou like her?

The creature scanned her- Daniela realized it must have been a mutant too. After all, the eyes matched the ones of the wolf using her mere moments ago just perfectly.

She gasped again upon feeling the other woman grip her thighs and pull them apart. She stood with her legs spread, gripping the stone wall. Never had she felt this aroused in her life.

”Perfect…omega…”

When she spoke, the woman’s voice sounded rough. Likely from the transformation, Daniela assumed. She frowned in confusion at the woman’s words.

”You will make…a good…mate”

Every word sounded painful. Daniela felt the tip of the woman’s cock against her entrance.

”What do you me-A-Aaah-n!”, she yelled as she was filled again, her voice echoing in the cave. She felt warmth radiating from the bite on her shoulder.

Omega? Mate?

Daniela groaned. She felt full and still felt cum clinging to her insides. The woman’s hands, now barely larger than Daniela’s, reached forwards and groped her large breasts.

Then, as if her mind supplied her with the answer to it all, she thought of her Mother’s lesson as a child, how she had spoken of the alpha and omega dynamics that sometimes occurred in those affected by the mold. She hadn’t thought her family was affected, having never felt any effects whatsoever.

In that moment however, she felt on fire. The bite, meant to claim- as she realised, burned and ached, but did not hurt. She closed her eyes as she was taken mercilessly against the wall, hands groping her and balls slapping against her with every thrust back inside her warm core.

She felt so, so needy, like she never had in her life, and the other woman’s scent seemed to call out to her. She briefly thought of explaining this to Mother, then brushed the thought aside; she would worry about the mess later.

Instead she turned around, her back painfully pressing against the stone wall. She saw the knot push against her entrance every thrust. Her hands set on the woman’s shoulders, feeling the muscles there and the wound her sickle had caused. The mutant seemed unbothered, her goal only one thing: to breed the beautiful omega that had found her way into the cave.

Daniela felt close yet again, her nails digging into strong shoulders. “More, pet”, she gasped breathlessly. Her nipple was pulled. She whined, back arching for her new lover. The choker necklace sitting snugly around her throat was the only clothing item still on her.

Another orgasm washed over her, intense and powerful this time. She felt drawn to the mutant, even more so, and hooked her leg around her backside to keep her from stopping.

Golden eyes looked down when she finally felt the knot pushing harder against her entrance. “Ngmmm!”, she whimpered and moaned, her hole stretching to take the large knot inside. Once it was in, Daniela’s breath evened again, but her arousal rose. She needed it in her, all of it. She wanted it so bad- no, she needed it, even.

The mutant picked up the thrusts of her hips again, her nose brushing against Daniela’s neck. The redhead breathed heavily as a tongue, human now, brushed against the marks left on her and she heard moans and groans against her shoulder. Teeth, sharp, but less so, dug into her neck, just below her choker. She groaned at the feeling and yelped in pain as it caused her to squeeze the large knot inside of her. She was going to be so stretched after this…

”More, pet! I want it in!” She demanded greedily. She wanted to carry the seed in the knot so desperately. Oh yes, she’d take her newest pet home, be her- what had the woman called her? Yes, omega. She would be her omega, allow her to use and fill her holes every day. Daniela was in such desperate need of a pet again! They always died so painfully quickly!

She was pushed around again, her front back against the rocks. The reason for this became clear to her immediately, when your teeth dug into her pale back, the soft skin breaking easily under sharp fang-like teeth.

She gasped when a hand slung around her chest and grabbed her breast, another moving down to her clit. She moaned, loud and clear and heard it echo back to her in the cave, when both were teased and played with.

So close…

The thrusts with the large knot inside gave pleasure and pain alike, until at last she heard moans and growls behind her, slurred noises that indicated how close the mutant was.

”Yes! Take me! Fill me please!”, she begged. It seemed this motivated the mostly mute woman. She giggled when her clit was rubbed quick and her nipple was pulled. Her head spun from the pleasure and her cunt ached from the rough treatment it received.

”Good…omega…”, the woman forced out. The words sounded a little more human. Daniela shivered at them. She didn’t know all that much about the mating cycles just yet, but was very eager to find out with her pet.

”Please, my alpha!”, she answered, back arched and screaming as she came, the knot painfully big in her clenching cunt until it too burst as the other woman orgasmed, cum shot deep inside the redhead.

She groaned as she felt hands settle on her lower stomach, the skin bulged slightly. The sensation was strange, though not unwelcome. She watched the bulge grow a little, then stop when the knot too was drained and calmed.

The cock slipped out of her, wet and red as it slapped against her thick thighs. When she turned, her legs nearly gave out. All it took was a small push on her shoulder from the woman for Daniela to fall, her body heavy and aching, as she fell on top of the many bones and corpses that littered the floor.

”He-Hey!”, she gasped when the woman leant down, caressing her stomach and nestling down next to Daniela. What had she gotten herself into now?!

{Dani seems like such a monsterfucker lmao}

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Daryl was out on a hunt,

He had been tracking a deer for most of the day as a trail of large canine prints caught his attention. They seemed to also follow the deer's tracks so he begged the animal hadn't gotten to his prey yet.

Following the sets of tracks he eventually finds the source chowing down on his deer.

'Fuck' he thought as he lined up his crossbow and held the animal inhis sight, shooting and hitting it in the leg.

It let out a howl as it looked around in panic, fear clear it its eyes as Daryl stalked closer.

Upon closer inspection this animal wasn't something he had seen before. Certainly canine, but in no way or shape a feral wolf. Its fur resembled that of a golden retriever and german shepard mix but the way its body was shaped was just off. As well as the cloth around its leg. It looked like one of those retro puffy hair ties.

He raised his crossbow again and the animal ducked away but never tried to run. As he didn't shoot its arm lowered away from its head to look at the attacker.

Why did this thing's reactions feel so ..human? And why was he being stupid and letting go of his crossbow?

He kneeled at its legs and reached for the arrow, making the animal pull back and whine out in pain.

"Lemme get tha' out, yeah? Imma let ya go." He tried again, with more success this time as he grabbed the arrow with one hand and held the flesh around the wound with the other and yanked it out, muttering sorries the whole time.

The wound seemed to disappear beneath his fingers before the animal moved its leg and hopping up and running off into the overgrown woods.

Daryl took another look at the deer, took his knife and salvaged whatever he could to take back home.

On his next run he managed to track a family of boars that, albeit a bit bloody, ended up dead right after their tracks turned around a group of large rocks. He scanned the area bit found nothing but the freshly killed animals for him to take home.

Yet another run after that one was cut short when a deer with its neck snapped was sssmingly left for him near his home.

This time he decided against his sceduled run and would sit it out at the edge of the woods, wondering if the one leaving the food for him would make an appearance. And yes it did, but as soon as it spotted him it dropped the smaller game from its mouth and ran off too fast to catch. But at least he had some meat again.

So one day before his next run was supposed to be he headed into the woods again. Straying far off the path and almost getting attacked by the animal he saved. It caught him off guard and managed to knock him on his ass before hiding away again. But he wasn't gonna give up and went on, camping out during the night and continuing the next day only to stumble on a hollowed out part in a large rock wall.

There were remnants of mostly eaten wildlife and fish too, but also what looked like ashes from a campfire at the edge of the hollow.

Taking his two knives in hand he slowly moved forward to take a look, only to be grabbed by something and shoved forward to stumble over his own feet. He turned to see what shoved him and found a woman standing over him. Dressed in a wrapped skirt, torn old sweater and a deer pelt draped over her shoulders.

The woman growled at him as he held up his a knife. A huff left her lips as she turned around and walked off to grab a fish off the fire and toss it at him. He managed to catch it only to let go not a second later. "Ah, hot. Damn." He shook his hand and licked at his scorched fingers which had the woman let out a laugh that barely sounded human.

"Yer the one tha's been huntin' mah food." It wasn't even a question as her eyes were the same ones he had looked into when he helped the wounded animal that first day.

"Ya talk?" He watched as she opened her mouth but only produce a garbled noise, not being able to find her voice.

"So ya live here." A nod confirmed his question. "And yer a ..skinwalker?" He had no idea what he was asking but he had heard that word somewhere one day. But he was wrong as she shook her head.

She crouched down and swiped at the floor to make a patch of clear sand, putting her finger out and writing. 'Wolf'

"Yer a shapeshifter?" A thinking expression with a sideways nod, giving him an okay for that guess as she doodled what looked like a cresent moon next to the word.

"Werewolf?" Another nod, but this one was more excited which made him chuckle.

"Ya haven't been human in a while, huh? Or a'least talked." Fhe conversation stayed very one-sided as Daryl asked simple yes or no questions and they shared some fishes for lunch.

It didn't matter to him that she didn't speak. He enjoyed her company in this strange forest cave.

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: Plot twist! It's a she-wolf this time!! Sometimes drabble idea hit you in the middle of writing another fic, so you're all getting something extra!

Part two HERE

[moss-ridden-owl-creature]

Introduction Post :DD

I don’t know exactly how to do this but I’m doing it anyways!

+🌑+🌘+🌗+🌖+🌕+🌔+🌓+🌒+🌑+

Name: Call me N, Mike, Percy, Owl or Halskë :) (generally don’t care)

Age: 15+ (I’m a minor)

Gender: Non-binary (pronouns: any except for neos)

Orientation: biromantic & Demisexual :)

Religion: Hellenistic & Nordic pagan (Greek & Norse deities. Probably won’t post often about this stuff but I do reblog things relating to it) (No, I am not interested in converting, don’t try it. Believe me, the Mormons at my school have tried.)

I’ll post my art once in while! Nothing on my blog in terms of interests is set in stone, but you will often see art from fandoms I’m in, or of my ocs/fursonas!

theriotype: Tundra wolf! (Spiritual) hearttype: border collie! (Spiritual)

kintypes: Cryptidkin, dragonkin, crowkin! (These are either spiritual or/and emotional.)

Serial Designation N (MD) & Micheal Afton (FNaF) fictionkin! :D

‼️‼️IMPORTANT‼️‼️ I am overall chill with SD-N doubles! But please know, Micheal doubles (especially if you mention it in a kind of trying to be friends/moots with me sort of way), I AM WARY. I generally don’t wish to interact with Mike doubles as it makes me mildly uncomfortable. I will not engage in DMs, questions, ETC. with you. I’m sorry! (This is specifically for Micheal Afton doubles.)

Some form of relation/connection to the FNaF franchise besides a kintype. Potential hearthome or idk maybe I’m just sad about my family lmao (damn. There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say in regards to the Aftons.)

THIS IS NOT A ROLEPLAY BLOG. THIS IS PURELY MY THOUGHTS AND DUMB SHIT. THAT WILL INCLUDE MY FICTIONKIN EXPERIENCES.

Fandoms: Grishaverse, Riordanverse, The MCU, Good Omens, The Folk of The Air, Murder Drones, FNaF, The Dream SMP (yes, I know some of the CCs are bad people, I supported very few of them. Tommy, Ranboo, Tubbo, Phil, and Techno were the only ones I actively watched outside of lore streams. This was a hyperfixation of mine and I am still very willing to talk about it because suddenly it’s been revived on Tumblr and now my page is full of C!Clingy duo. Please talk to be about it, I loved it and still do.) The Lunar Chronicles, The Hunger Games, The Song of Achilles, EPIC: The Musical, Aru Shah, Hamilton (technically), Warriors, Avatar: TLA, Iron Widow, The Furry fandom, and many others! (These are in no specific order)

I’m a batshit insane Kaz Brekker simp lol :)

Other things: I’m a furry (my fursona is named Halskë! I will post about these things.) I am diagnosed with ADHD, Slytherin, Cabin 7 (Apollo), I’m a fan of bones and taxidermy :) I also bow hunt large game such as antelope, deer, elk and big horned sheep :)

C!Technoblade (DSMP) kinnie! (Not a kintype!Just relate to the character:) )

Milo Rossi (Miniminuteman) fan :)

I am a diehard FNaF fan. I will talk about it for HOURS. I love FNaF. Mention it and I will vibrate at a frequency strong enough to shatter glass. So yes, please talk to me about it :)

DNI: Basic haters, trans-homo-or otherwise LGBT-phobic people, pro-Nazis, zoos, racists, or fans of The Human Centipede (Gives me PTSD-like triggers.) Those who are “Nordic Myth” kins of any type. (Marvel kins are not included. Y’all are fine.) & NSFW blogs specifically, I don’t care if you interact with me, but do not bring anything NSFW into my asks, I’m a minor and on the asexual spectrum and it makes me uncomfortable, thanks! :)

also please note, even if you are not in my DNI list, I do block freely, I do not stand for people who are constantly pessimistic. I don’t care if you’re pessimistic in general, myself am a realist, but what I mean by that is if you are more than 80% of the time just a negative being, I will most likely not interact with you. I am endo neutral. Don’t bring discourse to me.

another thing! My content is considerably 13+ (I will not respond to asks if you under 12 years old, as it makes me uncomfortable because tweens scare me.) and if you are older than 25, do not interact with me (EX: asks. The exception for this would be like if I follow you and send you an ask.), as you are between 10-5 years older than me. (The under 12 rule does not apply to those who are regressors, and regressors ARE allowed to interact with my content, but be warned, not all of my content is suitable for littles, be safe!)

also for Gaza/Ukraine GoFundMe’s, I am unable to donate, I would if I could. but I can’t, so please don’t send me asks to donate.

I accept people of all gender, sexual, and/or identity. Don’t come on to my profile with your phobic bullshit.

online friends! :D @kirshimadenkisero @the-bineapple @writingnotes520 @popatochsp @im-just-another-pony (These goobs are also my mutuals!)

my tags!

Original posts: #Cryptid whispers, #Dragon Growls, #The Wolf Bites #N Rambles

art: #The Moss Owl Creature Has Taken To Scribbling, #Owl Draws Will add more as the list grows!

reblogs: #Dragon Rumbles

That’s all! Have a good day/evening :D

(Made by @uzihell here on Tumblr!) (FNaF plushie divider made by @sister-lucifer here on tumblr!)

[spiribia]

My animal shapeshifter MMO post was honestly more something to roll around in my mind palace for fun than a true "materialize this" call to arms, and it likely is more interesting and plausible in theory than it would be in action, so we all must be aware that I'm still just playing pretend in saying any of this, but I don't mind at all if players can identify who else is a player. This is actually part of the point of it being a fake multiplayer game in my brain. Theoretically, player-typical actions like spam repeat actions would be considered odd and socially punished by NPCs. This is not to fully dissuade players from identifying each other. You could have a reputation system among fellow animal NPCs of whatever you currently are, and higher rankings within this would afford you benefits (ex. in social pack animals with hierarchy, you have a mob hunting with and defending for you, and you get priority access to resources that they may come across. For loner animals, fellow loner animal NPCs may be more respectful of your territory boundaries and less likely to try to snatch resources from you). You would incur a small reputation or some such penalty for repeat jumping at someone with at least one NPC peer in the vicinity. I imagine some players would decide that doesn't matter enough to them to reroute their behavior, and some would look for subtler means to work around this.

Players can jump up and down back if they are also a player, even at a cost, but in any MMO in the world there is a significant population who are players but do not respond back to social inputs. I imagined it less as "ooo there's no mechanism by which players could tell ever" and more that for the most part you are steeped in this non-zero chance it's a real person. Imagine if cleverbot had a disclaimer that some of the time it actually is a real person responding to you, but that it won't tell you when. I want you to be starving to death as a wolf and your NPC pack is starving too and as you are chasing a deer it begins signaling to you that it is actually a player, and I need you to evaluate whether or not that changes your course of action at all. I want there to be actual in-game benefits of integrating with members of your own species and for players to be unable to shapeshift until they die, meaning that if you encounter another player but you are a wolf and they are a deer, you could elect to travel together odd pair style, but they cannot help you hunt, and you will not get any sort of buffs, and your reputation with other wolves will decay over time as you are forgotten. I want you to have to decide whether it's worth it to sacrifice your reputation to signal back to someone you may never encounter again and have no way of concretely identifying again in the future, unless you come up with some kind of musical code, which is part of what I meant by using the musical language to identify each other (I've seen a few comments that this is an overly poetic sentiment and players would just jump instead). Maybe they'll hit you with a unique do-re-do, do-re-do sound output when they see you again in a different animal body. And then you're like oh hey it's the do-re-do person.

[vshouse]

Deerplay Concepts 🦌 @rottenlapdog This is inspired by your post.

Not personally a thing I'm into so I didn't know if there was an audience.

[Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked]

Anyway

Stuff:

Antlers

Smaller stumps during shedding seasons (Vulnerable time for deer since their antlers play as defence.)

Tails and Ears (If none are out there, custom made options can be great/or homemade).

Clothes in Browns and Whites. (Easy access pieces are fantastic for primal feeling more naked even with clothes on)

Collar that doesn't jingle/jingle too loud as to not startle deer or alert predators... unless 👀

If you like makeup that can be incorporated.

Grooming brush that feels good on skin.

Salt lick like @spiraledfaun said but if you don't want salt like that use sugar cubes as a version !!

Deer snacks/Variations of them if general inedible to people/your allergies.

Vibrator harness that keeps it on your deer while theyre in the yard. On and off at random until they bleat to come in and get some attention.

Genral:

Mating season/In Heat/Required Breeding for a farm

Petting, Playing, and Attention for any pet ofc.

Scratches that make them wiggle and make their tail twitch, and massages that make them let out precious little sounds.

Training!! Dont forget to train your deer of course. Help them not be as nervous around certain stimulus. Make sure it always know that even though it goes frolicking the woods, that it belongs to you.

An Example Deer if your poly can really help a younger more inexperienced deer learn how to behave.

Deer Fighting! Winner Tops!! Getting Stuck!!! (Someone finding you guys stuck? That anything?)

Wild Deerplay:

Caught in Deer Fencing in a... compromising position. A little cheesy but a bedframe or a chair also could play this out well and who doesn't like a bit of cheese now and then?

Nursed back to health and deciding to stay. (Fantasy novel style version where you wanna like, become their spouse cause once you're strong enough you have a human form.)

If you're willing to get erotic about a Wildlife Specialist who Drugs and Tags the Deer you can probably make a few good subtype scenarios. (Ex: Drugged them with heat enhancements for deer who are struggling for health reasons and now their presenting to you/trying to mount you like their life depends on it.)

Pet Deerplay:

Pet Deer, maybe pet show style, who gets pampered. bathed and brushed and all dressed up and spoiled for always winning with a good fuck.

Have a short version where the dom is the judge who also has to check fertility. How well can a trained deer stay on their harness while they're checked out for health!! Treats include: A Breeding, Loys of praise, First prize, and a very prowd owner who has lots of treats waiting after show!

Punishments for a home deer: Cuffed Antlers to something, exposed for whatever dom wants/ Boundary based shock collar so not woods time for a day or two. Maybe if there's two or more cuffing their Antlers as a pubishment for petty horn fights? "Wanna lock horns so bad, I'll keep hem that way."

Catmaid? Nope!! slap that maid dress on your local deer now!!

Primal Play:

Predator Animal (Wolf/Cougar/Mountain Lion/Werewolf/Werecat) hunting you down and instead of a killing bite, they leave a different kind of one. This one leaves the deer shaking and dizzy just long enough to be flipped over and explored.

Hunting Season Eroticism is something I've seen before, I think deerplay fits in it's framework. (No real deer will be harmed in the participation of this kink)

That also means threesome with a hunting dog that smells out the deer who maybe doesn't notice them even coming, running around looking for another deer to mate/be mated by... the hunter dog finds them first and by the time the hunter gets there 😳 oh my the dog and the deer are frolicking really close.

A waiting predator fattening you up after winter by eating deer competing for resources/bringing you stuff while asleep so hunting you in fall will be more rewarding

[androgynousblackbox]

Dead Main Course. 3 [Appleradio, Radioapple]

Alastor didn't dream a lot, but when he did he remembered it just as clearly as if he had actually lived it. For other people they might have been considered nightmares worth forgetting about.

The usual setting was a forest. He had no idea why, he had never spent a significant amount of time in one to get attached like that. No more than the occasional convenient burying place for some of his meals. 

It started out with Alastor walking alone on the afternoon, sometimes dancing for his own pleasure to no music, sometimes just walking. In the dream he wasn't consciously looking for anything, but something always end up catching his attention. It was only after they did that he realized that he was naked at all. He was never embarrassed about it. Animals on the wild were always naked after all.

A deer was the usual target. But other times it had been other prey animals, sometimes even other predators like mountain lions and those were the largest dreams because it implied a bit of a fight. They always ended up noticing him looking at them from a distance. From there to them understanding the danger they were in it usually took merely seconds. Sometimes they stayed there just to get in a defensive position if they thought there was a fighting chance, but he frankly liked it a lot more when they just started to run to try to put the biggest distance that they could between them. Nothing like a good run in order to get his appetite fully awakened.

The night before his first day at his new job, Alastor was enjoying seeing the starry night through the cup of the tallest trees when he heard a twig cracking under his feet near his position. His head wasn't tied to his biological limitations in reality, so he turned around completely without moving anything else on his body, like an owl, to scan the area for the offending presence. 

There it was, just at his back where it had tried to take him by surprise, was a giant gray wolf. Alastor had never seen one in real life, but he just knew that they normally didn't raise as high for an adult man to be at eye level with them. In the dream, his stomach gave out a resounding growl that made the ears of the wolf stand out and lower the head as he prepared to either pounce or react. 

Alastor calmly turned around with a smile on his face. Oh, this hunt was going to be fun, he could tell. For a moment neither one of them was doing anything. Only when the tail of the wolf moved slightly did Alastor take that as a sign to start moving himself. 

Giant wolf or not, once he gave chase, he was always the biggest beast present. No matter the animal that presented itself, they were always a meal to enjoy. The wolf lowered his head a moment, the ears laying flat on his head before he also got in motion to get away. Alastor used his elongated arms as another pair of legs, feeling the dirt, rocks and grass underneath his new claws just as clearly as beneath his feet, that weren't feet anymore but hooves. 

His mouth was permanently stuck on a wider smile that showed off all the big and sharp teeth that he knew would make it an absolute joy to tear into a live prey. But the wolf had little interest in appreciating his transformation as it was running away, moving between the trees as if to disorient him or tire him up. A noble attempt that was bound to be fruitless as Alastor was coming closer.

Suddenly the trees opened up and the wolf was running through a clear area, illuminated by a full moon that sparkled in his terrified eyes as Alastor picked him up by the torso. Even when being held like that, the wolf tried to shake him off by moving like a violent eel or trying to bite him first. It was certainly becoming harder to keep up in the air, so Aastor had no choice but to put him against the ground, covering the muzzle with his whole hand while he directed his teeth to the mouth.

Things like hair never bothered him in his dream. A delicious howling calling to no one was the last sound that the wolf man as Alastor bite again, again, again, again, the blood and meat and scrapping of the bone being absolutely cathartic he could barely contain himself to actually enjoy it instead of devouring it whole as he knew he could.

It was when he was sinking his teeth into one of the front legs and tearing apart that his ears on top of his head moved behind him, altered by something. It wasn't any specific sound as much as the sudden awareness that someone was looking at him. Breaking the bone of the leg on his mouth, Alastor turned to see a gray figure, made of shadow and moonlight standing right there. 

That was strange. In what moment did he let that one pass by him? How long has it been there? Has it been following him all along and only approached further while he was eating? All these questions came and went through his mind as he tilted his head. The figure standing there started getting closer, a foolish action certainly, or maybe not so because Alastor just had to keep starring.  

The figure surrounded him until he was in front of him, in front of the dead wolf and kneeled in front of him, petting the pelt. Was that compassion or just mere curiosity? Maybe this little one was lost and was stupid enough that it didn't know the danger in which he was in? 

For some reason Alastor knew that at least he was free from fearing the figure. Nothing about it activated his own senses that he was about to be attacked. And yet, he couldn't really relax. Nobody had ever accompanied him during any other of his feasts. It had always been just him and his kill, a truly intimate act that never had any witnesses before. 

He started to wonder if the figure understood what it meant. Some beings could be so intrinsically innocent that concepts like life and death were foreign for them. The way the figure kept brushing their fingers against the bleeding wolf was making him wonder if they could be one of those. They just seemed entranced admiring the beauty of the fallen creature. 

Alastor sat too in front of them. Had they forgotten about him already? The thought surprised him with how quickly it was making him angry. He was the biggest monster in that entire forest, he could devour the figure just as easily as a grape cut from its vine, and he wasn't paying attention to him? Now that was some audacity if he ever saw it!

The figure seemed completely oblivious to how much their presence was affecting him as their hands went down the wolf stomach. At first it looked like just more petting over the corpse, but then the figure ripped the skin open and shoved what had to be their hand inside the body. After some time searching finally came out with the heart of the wolf. The heart itself was even bigger than the hand itself, keeping it there was a work of equilibrium more than strength. The blood was dripping into the grass, even more so when the figure extended it towards him.

Alastor's ear straightened up when realizing what was happening. After years and years of peaceful hunting, finally someone was feeding him. Alastor didn't even hesitate to open his mouth, wondering maybe a little too late if maybe there was a risk that could end up eating the figure just as well.

Just as his teeth were about to come down over the meal, the alarm woke him up.

Alastor instantly rose up from his bed, still blinking in the darkness of his room, despite it being already the hours of the morning just as his cellphone was telling him. What a curious dream, thought to himself as he stand up to get the bathroom. He continued to thought about it as he took a shower and especially as he started shaving. He had never in his life have ever cut himself realizing such a mundane part of his routine, but a part of him was curious about what would happen if he did. If he let the razor break out the skin just beneath his jaw and let the blood slip out. Who was going to be there to truly appreciate it and feed it to him back? Then he wondered why did he even cared about that.

It was an interesting thought experiment, if nothing else. 

He got dressed, took a modest breakfast in his kitchen while listening to the news from mom's radio and came out of his small apartment in direction to his new job. The restaurant had changed very little since the last time he was there, only filled with more details in golden that reinforced even more the holy aesthetic that it was going for. At the center of every table there was a napkin folded to look like angels and the tree of temptation had a lot more red ribbons as decoration. Everything looked expensive, almost garish but not too much. 

Alastor met with the Manager Chef, the one in charge of fixing everyone's schedule and apparently too the one in charge to present him with all his coworkers, including the waiters that were going to deliver the meals. Alastor smiled and shook hands with everyone, retaining their names and faces for just a moment before he dropped them again for lack of interest. None of them were Lucifer. Where the hell was him?

The one thing he did took notice it was their uniforms. All the chef dressed up in red with white details that he already saw, but now they all had added an embroidery apple surrounded by a golden snake. Meanwhile all the waiters were dressed with soft blue vests on top of white shirts and black bow ties to finish them. He was trying to understand what was the idea behind that choice. Devils serving angels? Because... in the kitchen was hot like hell?

For fuck's sake, just how far deep his own ass could a man get to have such pretentious ideas on his head? 

"Your own uniform should be on your locker" said the Manager Chef, whose name he had already completely forgotten. Still-Not-Lucifer took him to the back of the kitchen, towards another door to a large hallway. Since the public was never going to see it, nobody bothered to decorate it so it was a neutral gray the whole way through. The man was pointing out to each door, explaining briefly the purpose of every one. "That is the backdoor where we receive the food from our providers. You enter through the alley on the right. I know that we are all starting so for today it's fine, but in the future it's better to enter through here. Right over there is the bathroom and in the other room a shower in case you really need it. That is the break room where the schedules of everyone will be up each morning. If you ever need to take a day off, you consult with me, alright? I have the phone numbers of everyone so I will send you a message later so you can add, in case we suddenly need more staff."

"I understand, of course" said Alastor, nodding along at the same time he was also tuning out.

Finally they reached out to some double doors that were wide open. It was exactly the same as any changing room that Alastor had seen before, possibly even more dull than any, with the notable difference that Lucifer was in front of his own locker, fixing up his coat. Somehow that made the entire room a lot more interesting.

"Ah, there you were!" said the Manager, reaching out hand in front to shake Lucifer's. "I was giving the tour to Alastor. You know him already, right?"

Alastor realized he was frozen in place only when he had to move in order to greet Lucifer. He looked absolutely splendid even when seemingly dragging a bit of sleep from the bed still, giving out a placid smile that did nothing to hide his baggy eyes. Was Lucifer just not a morning person? Maybe the nerves of his first day didn't let him sleep as well as he could last night? Alastor wondered more on that as he felt against the firm grasp of Lucifer on him.

"Yes, I was the one to talk my father into considering you," said Lucifer, simulating a yawn behind his hand, and completely not aware at the jump that Alastor's heart made inside his chest. "Sorry, I am just a bit tired. I will splash some water on my face and I will be good as new."

"You better, Lu, we don't want to give a bad impression on our first day! We need our heavenly graduate up and running" said the Manager, patting the shoulder of Lucifer, who just made a dismissive hand wave in response to the contact. 

"What are you saying? It will be perfect, just you wait and see" said Lucifer with a lazy smile.

Alastor stared at the space between the two of them, doing his best effort to control the twitching he could feel on his eye. Just how chummy did those two were? Was that any way to handle a professional environment? 

Just stop touching him, you fucking creep.

By some miracle or because somehow he heard him, the Manager did stop rubbing his grubby hands all over Lucifer's shoulder and pointed to the locker at the far end of the line. 

"Alastor Abbadon, this is yours!" announced the man. "The uniform should be your size according to what you told us, but if you need an adjustment or anything you can tell me and I will see how to fix it."

While taking not a small portion of his salary, finished Alastor for him, making it clear he understood.

"Well, better get ready now! We will be opening in half an hour. The boss hired a bunch of critics and some press to cover for the restaurant. If any camera ends up pointing in your direction, don't worry and don't pay them any mind. If anyone is going to speak, that is probably going to be either me or Lucifer."

"Yay, yuhu! Can't wait!" commented Lucifer, bumping the air with a less than enthusiastic fist.

"Not a fan of the press?" asked Alastor, ignoring the frown on the Manager.

"Me? Oh, no, I totally love having bright lights pointing at my face and supporting the future of this restaurant while giving the same speech I already had to repeat three times for five different magazines' ' Lucifer shrugged and smiled indulgently, arching an eyebrow. "What can I say? Dad made a real gambling with this place so I need to help him. Expanding to a whole new market is a entirely different kind of challenge."

Was that part of the speech as well?, wondered Alastor.

"Exactly, which is why you will do an excellent job" commented the Manager, grabbing the face of Lucifer to pat his cheek. Alastor really wished that look could actually kill instead of just giving him a place to imagine his knife coming in and out over and over again. "What was all of that media training for if not, right?"

"Right, right" Lucifer laughed softly, giving the old man a light pat before moving them away from his face. "You know I am just kidding. Like I said, I just need a refresher and I will be peachier than a peach.

The Chef Manager seemed satisfied with that. He nodded to Lucifer and turned to Alastor to pat his shoulder now, making him have a full body shudder that the man consciously or unconsciously ignored. But not Lucifer.

"Half hour!" finalized the man, finally leaving them alone.

Fortunately, Alastor didn't have to be the one to break the silence.

"Not a fan of touching?" asked Lucifer with a slight smile.

"Not generally, no" Alastor opened up the locker with the key that was already hanging from it. 

The space was empty, of course, except for the new chef coat that was the exact same as the other chefs, alongside some black pants. 

"Oh, well, then you are out of luck" Lucifer said, pulling out a brush to finally start fixing his hair on the pull back style that he clearly found the best for his job. "You wouldn't know it because of his British accent, but the chef is Italian and you know how touchy feely they can get."

"I noticed '' Although he still thought it annoying, did calm a bit knowing the guy was just like that in general instead of being a special privilege to share with the blonde.

He didn't bother to add that he was in fact perfectly okay with touching if it came from his closest friends. 

While Lucifer was busy fixing himself, Alastor pondered if he would mind it too much if Lucifer did come in contact with him in such a carefree way. Not immediately, of course, no fucking way, but maybe? In the future?

The hope behind that stupid idea irritated him profoundly. God, was his head going to be filled with such nonsense from now on? How did normal people live like that?

How did they make it stop?

"So you talked with your father to have me on board?" He asked with the intention of distracting himself too.

"Oh, well, I didn't mean to make it sound like he needed a lot of convincing. Sorry if it came out that way" Alastor didn't even think about it, but didn't correct him either. It was kinda cute seeing him get a slight blush thinking he did speak out more than he should. Bad idea to start a career offending the man that was going to rule a kitchen at his side. "My father had a pretty good impression of you already. I know I wasn't there for the start of the interview, but I did really like what I saw. Most of the other candidates were... uh... how do I say it..."

"Pompous pretentious assholes without a fiber of real creativity on their bones?" helped out Alastor, his smile only getting bigger when Lucifer twisted a corner of his mouth in annoyance.

"I wouldn't have said it with those words because that is extremely unprofessional," pointed out the man, probably more out of principle than anything else. 

"Of course."

"But yes, essentially. For what father also told me, I could only really see me working with you, if I am honest."

Alastor turned around to pretend he was accommodating the neck of his coat, so Lucifer wouldn't even notice by chance the happiness that spread across his face.

"With those other guys I thought it was going to be impossible. I would be concerned about them stabbing me at the first chance they got. So I told my dad that and now you are here" continued the man, looking at his image on the small mirror glue to his locker. 

Alastor also threw a subtle glance in his direction. Deciding to recognize perfection for what it was, Lucifer finally closed his locker and went to the washroom area. 

Nobody had pointed to the small room for more private changing, but Alastor went there to take out his pants and put on the new ones. When he came out again, finding the uniform fitted him just as well as he could expect, Lucifer had already moved on. 

He sprayed some water on his own face, bracing himself to pull out his best poker face no matter what. All his previous bosses would have nothing but praise for his performance. So agreeable, so reliable, quick thinking to solve any issues. He wasn't going to let some silly stupid... whatever get on his way to get up on the ladder. He still had not a clear idea of how he was going to do it with this particular one and the son of the owner right at the top, but he would come out with something. He always did.

So he was going to be just the chef he could be and not sigh like an idiot teenager just because this was the first time he found himself in such a situation. Adaptability was also a crucial skill to develop in a kitchen, and Alastor was nothing but skillful.

Nodding to himself, Alastor went to see his first day. 

The money of the Morningstar had truly secured them a bunch of new customers. Since the moment the front doors opened up, they didn't stop coming in until almost every table was full.

Alastor was a bit impressed to see some food critics that he knew were very strict on their reviews and chose their target with the full intention of tearing them apart. Either Morningstar had already paid them a more than generous amount to say something positive or the man's ego was so monumental that he couldn't even imagine a future in which his new restaurant wasn't a hit. He couldn't couldn't tell which was more likely, but couldn't say he complained too much. 

If he had paid, then it was only more positive advertisement. If he didn't, then there was nothing to worry about either because he was there. 

They had sent him the final menu decided by his request and he had practiced all the dishes, from the most complex to the simplest one, back at home so he would know exactly what to do and what to fix if something came out right. As Morningstar had said, Lucifer was quickly more in charge of the sweet side while Alastor took care of the savory meals. The times where they almost reached to taste the same pot or for the same plate, Lucifer was always the first to nod and turn away, trusting that he would know what to do. He was hired for that, didn't he? 

As the Chef Manager had said, at some point during the morning some reporters came in, one even with a filming crew behind them. They were preparing the equipment and lights when Lucifer was called over, just as he was drying up his hands.

"Showtime" commented, letting out some air through his nose, and smiled brightly, so beautiful that the bags under his eyes could go completely unnoticed unless someone was really paying attention. Once he finished, he turned to Alastor with his hand raised up and stopped before actually touching him. "Alastor, you can take care of things here, right?"

Alastor looked at that hand, lamenting a bit that the chef was learning his boundaries already. He would have liked to know if he could tolerate his contact or it would be the same as with the majority of people, just a total rejection from his body that he had very little say on. But that would have to be a question for another day.

"Absolutely. Go and don't forget to talk as good about us as you can."

"I was going to do that anyway" said Lucifer and got closer. Alastor was literally on the way to the exit to the main area, so he thought at first that Lucifer was just going there. The reaction on his chest was just as unwanted as expected, and did not help him at all when Lucifer actually added in a whisper. "You are doing great, by the way. I knew we would work well."

Alastor tried to find something to say, something that said he already knew how amazing he was, but his throat, his brain or something inside was malfunctioning because his mind literally went blank with the compliment. Lucky for him, Lucifer didn't mind as he continued on his way to speak with the reporters. Alastor took the chance to turn his head in his direction and catch a swift of his aroma. A cologne he almost thought he could recognize and the clean soft smell of aftershave. Yes, of course. A man like Lucifer would use something like that.

If only he could stay closer to him for longer, then maybe he could also identify the cologne for future reference. Maybe even imagine the flavor of it on top of his skin. Why he wanted to do that in the first place wasn't a question worth asking in front of the prospect of having that opportunity.

"Very well, everyone!" said to the other chefs. This was the first time that he had the entire power of a kitchen at this disposition and he had to appreciate that at the very least. "Lucifer is going to be busy for a bit, but I still need you all on your best behavior. I see some pans that have been left unattended since the last order. I want to see all the stations spotless."

"Yes, chef!" was the general voice from the group, while two of the chefs went out to the dishwasher and the others got back to their respective plates.

Since Morningstar wanted an open kitchen, they could very well still see all of their customers enjoying their meals just as much as they could see them doing them. In the moments in which they had nothing to prepare yet because everyone was already eating, it was hard to resist observe the reaction of the public to their labor. The chefs that weren't occupied leaned on chairs or against a counter, elevating their heads as if that way they could get a better idea of what was happening.

Alastor managed to see some of the food critics taking notes on their phones or a generally pleasant environment before he just lost interest. He knew every plate had come out perfect already, he didn't need the approval. It was good for the soul, but at that moment wasn't the thing he was more interested about.

Lucifer was talking with the reporter as if they were actually just conducting a conversation. Either because of the kind of father he had, his brief career as a model or for his own selfish interest, it was pretty clear that Lucifer was perfectly comfortable in front of the camera. Alastor couldn't hear a single word of what they were saying, but he had not noticed once that Lucifer stammered or had any doubt about his words. Sometimes the blonde would make a gesture just to emphasize something, back again to smile and incline his head ever so slightly to hear what the reporter was asking him, his eyebrows elevated in interest. 

All his movements looked so graceful on their control that it made him question if Lucifer could have been a dancer too. But he had not seen him walk enough to know that for sure. He made a mental note to start paying attention to that... and then said to himself he was an idiot. Why did he even care?

Well, no, he knew why. He still didn't like the answer.

Perhaps it would just fade away eventually. He couldn't imagine that most people did anything about having such feelings for almost perfect strangers that met just two times already. Surely a lot of times "that" just went nowhere and never caused any issue for anyone if silenced enough. If a person just learned to keep it to themselves, just as they had done during their entire lives before that point, then surely everything would end up just fine. 

Alright, Lucifer was attractive. That much could be admitted because that was just an objective fact. Apparently the secret to waking up that kind of experience for him had been a tiny blonde all along, who knew. 

So what? He could take that to the grave with him. There were lots of things he hoped to take to the grave with him and as long as he had any say on it, he would do it. This was going to be no different at all. If there was a god, then he knew very well that he didn't need the extra stress on his life.

A little glance from time to time wouldn't hurt, of course. It's only natural to admire beautiful things when they are nearby. He wasn't about to rip his eyes out to pretend otherwise. But that was about it. Just a glance at a distance, a bit of a respectful admiration.

And of course they had to talk with each other, that was just inevitable. They were working together, they were both the heads of the kitchen and unlike hydras, if they cut one of the heads a new one wasn't just about to spawn from the severed neck. So they had to get along. Keep it professional and amicable. Especially with the whole being the son of the owner. You don't want to seem to close off and burn that bridge, not if you don't have a new one able to replace it at the ready.

Maybe gather some data that he could use to try to lazily plan his ruin so he could be the only chef standing. That seemed like a necessary enough step too. It would give him a little imaginary hobby, something to think about besides the way the muscles of Lucifer tensed up when chopping vegetables, the delicate and expert way with which he made his cut of meat. Something that he did not need on his head occupying as much space as it did during the next few days.

Finding out about the pastry where he went to get his breakfast every morning before coming there, whose bag Lucifer was always coming on his arrival, that was just another piece of information that he could use. The way that he drank his coffee, with at least three sugar cubes, it could be useful if he ever wanted to potion him without him realizing. 

Strike a conversation about how Alastor couldn't help to notice the way he moved around the kitchen, which then would lead to the confession that Lucifer had practiced ballet since he was very little, and even though he stopped practicing years ago, he still did some movements along in his house. It was just normal friendly conversation, no reason to give it any more importance than that. Imagine Lucifer on top of a stage while performing a piece while he elevated him on the air, like an angel that he was trying to send back to heaven, was just how people kept themselves interested on the topic, right?

After a few months of thinking of more ways in which he could enter in contact with Lucifer, and fewer ways to kill him discreetly, Alastor finally told himself he wasn't fooling anyone. Maybe that dying business man was right all along and a coffee date couldn't be so bad. 

He was good at scheduling after all, so if he just bothered to plan carefully then maybe he could manage to keep both his hunts and Lucifer in completely separated areas of his life. Many other people had done similar things before, why not him? Why should he ever deprive himself of something that could bring him pleasure? There was already some pleasure on the times he turned to see Lucifer and he had turned his head first, as if he had been the one watching and didn't want him to know.

"What...?" Lucifer stared at him, frozen in the middle of putting his folded coat back into his bag inside the locker. It was the time for closing and everyone else was gone for the day. Alastor had waited for a moment like that to finally make that question and now that he did, Lucifer frowned. "Are... are you inviting me on a date?"

"Are you accepting?" Alastor asked back, mostly confused for his reaction. 

As if instead of asking something out of him, he had taken out a bat and threatened him to bash his head in.

"Ha... ha ha..." Lucifer grabbed his chest and started heaving, the uncomfortable tight smile never leaving his face as the panic fully settled in. He took a step back, then another, not even looking at him. "A-are you kidding me? No. No, no, no, no, no, no. You have to be kidding me. That is a joke. Not a very funny one, Al!"

What the hell was wrong with him? Did he think he was going to react violently now? When did he ever give the impression that was something he could do just for hearing a no?

"It's not a joke" Now he was starting to get pissed. "You could just say no if the idea seems so funny to you."

"Then nope!" said Lucifer, quickly closing the door of his locker, his breathing calming down somewhat only after he said his response. The blonde was biting his lips, as if debating with himself if he should explain further. He was still not looking at Alastor directly. "I... I like women. So I have to say no. Please, don't ever ask that again."

Well. Fine then. Nothing else to do. 

"Fair enough" That was all Alastor could muster to say, no angry, no confused, just saving everything for now to think about or forget about later. Right now he kept his tone even, controlled as he figured out the best course of action. "I wasn't aware of that. I am sorry for assuming."

"It's fine..." The voice of Lucifer turned low as he pressed himself against the wall, as if wanting to disappear behind it. "Can we... forget this happened?"

He didn't want to forget. But he could pretend so if that is what it took for Lucifer to stop looking so fucking scared. He had never shown him any signs of danger, did he? But who knows. Maybe somehow he slipped or this was just the common assumption with straight men when a taller male coworker invited them to a date. He had no idea and right now he couldn't even theorize.

"Of course," said, closing the door of his own locker and grabbing his bag. 

When he came to the back door he turned for a moment. Lucifer had let himself slip from the wall onto the floor and was just sitting there, hugging his bag against his chest. In any other moment Alastor would have come to his side and asked him if he was alright, and even now that desire was still very much there, but instead he just continued on his way. 

He didn't take public transportation like usual. The long walk home was surely to clear his head, wash away the embarrassment and help him out to plan his next move. 

By the time he reached his apartment, he had the answer already:

Lucifer Morningstar had to die.

[the-whispers-of-death]

man oh man wolf Kali and dragon reader fighting over bear Stone is juicy.

i have some thoughts.

reader is actively trying to show up Kali, bringing outrageously big game to Stone like he sees Kali bringing Stone tasty fish and he huffs, smoke pouring from his nostrills and the next thing they know reader brings Stone a whole orca he hunted, brings him the fattest seals too, the blubber is good for stocking up for winter. in theory reader has everything to charm and woo Stone. he's big (well over 7 feet), he's strong (easily lifting up a truck when they don't have a car jack), he's rich (huge hoard as well as old money in banks across the world), he's knowledgeable (knows so much stuff, was around when the first telescopes and star maps were made, was around even before that) but reader knows that Kali has an advantage of knowing Stone for a long time and another thing is that reader is old... like old old and Kali and Stone are far closer in age so why would Stone want some old man when he can have a young, lively mate who has been by his side for all this time. now of course reader won't just give up, dragons are known to be both proud and possessive so reader won't allow that kind of hit to his pride nor will he just give up what he thinks should be his. but a dark part of his brain is always whispering for him to be prepared to loose his dream mate to someone (in readers opinion) more suited afterall reader is old and past his prime (in dragon years) he couldn't even give Stone a proper family (i have a hc that certain hybrids are very gung ho about family and cubs) so despite being all that and a bag of chips reader can't help but be insecure (there's also the fact of it being a mythical hybrid trying to court a regular animal hybrid and considering the fact that reader would probably outlive them both so... yeah)

it ends with all three in a pollycule because i don't like angst lol (if you don't mind that is)

I mean, technically there's already a polycule because dragon hybrid!Reader is also courting lion hybrid!Sarabi. We might as well add wolf hybrid!Kali into it too, yeah?

Wolf hybrid!Kali who has more than one reason to try and one-up dragon hybrid!Reader's courting of Stone because you're courting both the mate he's been courting with for twelve years and his trusted lieutenant. Part of him feels like why should you get both lion hybrid!Sarabi and bear hybrid!Stone?

He knows realistically he cannot compete with a dragon hybrid, a fact that's further proven by you bringing an orca to Stone. But that doesn't stop him from trying.

Kali helps Stone take care of his den, helping him bring back the food you bought Stone so that he's well-stocked up for the winter. He provides Stone with the flowers he knows Stone loves, he shares his kills with Stone. He reminds Stone of all of their good times, he cuddles Stone every night he can with you around.

But Stone still wants you, actually, he wants you both. So he tells you two and you're quick to start courting Kali.

Kali suddenly has more rabbits and deer showing up at his own den, all of them from you. You help him deal with other wolf packs, using your dragon hybrid nature to run off everyone who tries to encroach on his pack's territory.

Kali's confused but eventually, he accepts it. He's not used to...submitting, to being taken care of, but at least Stone and Sarabi are happy. And he doesn't mind having help with keeping his pack safe.

[grimmylover7]

Exert from Chapter 1 - Chokehold

Smut: 18+ Only

She was up in the Whitetails for the morning, hunting for rabbits and deer to bring back for everyone. Staci had mentioned he hadn’t had fried deer steak before and at her demands that he was missing out on a damn good time, she’d set out that morning on a mission to correct that atrocity. It also gave her something to do on her day off rather than sit and stew in past pains. She’d already taken down several rabbits, the game tucked away in a cooler in her trunk but she’d yet to find a good buck to shoot. Just some fawns, a few doe’s; nothing she wanted for meat. 

With one last sip of her drink, she slid off the hood and grabbed her rifle, heading back into the brush, determined to find a suitable target. It took some patience and sharp hearing but eventually she stepped out from behind a tree to see a gorgeous buck grazing in a small clearing. At least a sixteen pointer with a quick glance at his antlers. She raised her rifle with a breath, aiming in a split second down the medium scope then pulling the trigger on the exhale. The buck went down gracefully, a clean shot right through the head taking it out quickly. 

She was almost to the kill when a quick movement off to her flank sounded in the brush. Under normal circumstances she would’ve ignored it, no worries to what could be shifting around in the bushes but when a low growl followed it? She tensed. Slowly, carefully, she turned to meet the eyes of a wolf prowled low to the earth, clearly stalking her by the way it bared back its maw to flash its fangs at her. She didn’t move for a moment, simply deciding whether killing it was a good option or if it would leave her alone. She’d wrestled with bears, bobcats and cougars, hell- she even had a particularly horrible nemesis of a wolverine that seemed to find her often. She didn’t have the heart to kill animals idly- only for food. Never for sport. 

The wolf seemed to be gaining the nerve to attack but rather than giving it the chance, she pulled her knife from her thigh holster, never letting her eyes leave the wolves as she stepped backwards towards the buck carcass. Without needing to see her hands, she carved her way through the flank of the deer, noting how the wolf ceased its snarling to instead watch her hands intently. Hungrily. The poor thing looked to be starving once it actually crept from the brush completely. With a huff, she tore off the meat from the back leg then shook it at the wolf to gain its attention from the bulk. 

“Alright. Here ya go.” She tossed the meat across the clearing, the wolf's ears perking up in excitement as it thudded against something unseen, “Now go on– get.” She shooed just as the wolf sprinted after the meat. 

The sound of ravenous chomping filled the quiet morning air a few seconds later, making her smile as she readied to carry the buck back to her Jeep. She was just finishing tying off the bindings when there was another rustle from the bushes, and she half expected the wolf to come traipsing out but instead she was met with a different sight. An unexpected one. 

A mountain of a man stepped from the shrubs instead, a bright red rifle slung over his shoulder and a pistol strapped to his thigh. His red hair, beard and deep inset eyes piercing in the early morning light. He looked as though he’d just glanced back to where the wolf had run to but stopped when his sight landed on her. In a matter of seconds, she realized two very important details as they stared each other down. 

One. He was former military, had to be with the faded army jacket over the bloodied shirt he was wearing. The boots, the knife at his thigh similar to her own. Even the rifle looked to be military grade but personalized. 

Two. His shirt was freshly bloodied. In such a way it looked like he’d been hit by something. 

Her eyes widened just slightly as a slow mortified sensation flooded her, gaining momentum when his eyes narrowed down at the buck at her feet, the missing flank chunk then back to her with a solid glare. It all happened in a matter of seconds but that was all it took– quick to tuck her knife away so she could wipe her hands off and stand to apologize. Not that she got the chance. 

“You make it a habit of hitting strangers with raw meat?” He groused, clearly analyzing her with the way his gaze scanned her from head to toe. Not in a man checking out a woman— more like a predator scoping out prey if she was being specific. The attempt to unnerve her paled in comparison to her struggle to not crack up at what she’d done to him. 

“No. Gotta say, you’re the first…” She tried valiantly not to grin, biting her bottom lip just slightly as his gaze fell flat at her. Unimpressed but thankfully not pissed like she worried. 

“Not even remorseful about it either.” He shook his head, a twitch of a smirk showing behind that beard of his making her huff out a short laugh she tried to cover up. 

“Shit. Nope. You caught me-- I am sorry though just… fuck, of all the places you could’ve been you were really in a bad spot.” She snorted. 

“No regrets you launched a wolf at me then?”

She wanted to say yes. To apologize for that too but instead she made a point to look him over, all 6’2 of him with obvious muscle and hands that clearly held his guns often. He was scarred enough to show he’d been through some shit too, definitely worse than a measly wolf jumping him in the shrubs. Instead, she smirked out right. 

“Hmm...nah. You look like you can handle yourself.” 

He let out a bark of a laugh at that then, the two of them sharing a moment between strangers that had her feeling warmer in the chilly morning air. With a chuckled agreement, he was sauntering back his own way through the woods, the two of them exchanging a simple goodbye leaving her to finish with her morning hunting. 

Yeah. She was definitely enjoying Hope County. 

Another month went by, instances passing with her, Victor, Joey and Staci managing to have all sorts of wild times between the four of them with only Whitehorse to give a shake of his head at their antics. Between getting to catch up with Victor, settling into her new home and enjoying her new job, Rook felt more alive than she had in ages. Even more so when she went out hunting and seemingly always stumbled across the same giant mountain man she’d decidedly labeled “lumberjack”. Every so often when she was out, there he was too, the same red rifle taking out his own kills or meandering the woods like a predator himself.

At first, they had yet to share more than a few simple words between them on occasion, but somehow that was more than enough to get a feel for who he was. 

“Ah I see you’re still here.” She hummed, stumbling upon him first this time.

“Foods not gonna put itself on the table.” 

“True that.”

“I saw that shot from across the field. Nice.” He said in passing, already traipsing through with his own kill.

“Thanks. Woah, damn that’s a big buck.”

“Yeah, got him just a bit ago. Gotta get him back to my truck.”

“Trying to one up me, lumberjack?”

“Ha, not much to take on, shortstack.” 

Their most recent run-in had changed things though, the moment happening while she was out and about on the eastern border where the Henbane brushed with the Whitetails. 

She’d just managed to find a good lookout point when out of nowhere her arch nemesis of a wolverine found her and went on the attack immediately. She was so surprised she’d yelped and been barreled over by the damned thing, rolling through the bushes wildly to try and wrangle the beast. 

Several scratches and attempted bites later, she had the bastard by the scruff and front legs, holding him away with a scowl on her face as she trudged through the trees to a clearing. Her breaths were heavy in an attempt to simmer down her anger at the little fucker so she didn’t strangle it, but also to focus so she could keep a firm grip, so it didn’t escape. Needless to say, she was far more keyed up than she should’ve been that early in the morning, causing her to snap. Just a little. At a Wolverine no less. 

“Look here you angry little shit— I don’t appreciate you stalking me, attacking me! Go fuck with someone else!” She hissed, shaking the vermin threateningly and about to scold it some more until someone cleared their throat behind her. 

“Huh… Can’t say I’ve ever seen someone get after a wolverine before… Or catch one like that.” Lumberjack was back, deep voice filling the air along with a hearty chuckle that had her turning just enough to glare at him too. 

“This little bastard has been after me since I moved here. He even followed me up from Holland Valley just to jump me today!” She scowled, shooting her fierce gaze back at the hissing beast. 

“How do you know it’s the same one…? They’re all pretty rabid.” The man snorted, coming closer to inspect the creature at her side. 

“You see the scar on the top of his head? That was from me. I got him with a rock the first time we crossed paths.” Rook’s glare simmered down a little more after that and the Wolverine seemed to follow, realizing it was not going anywhere in her firm hold and would have to bide it’s time to escape. Lumberjack let out a low whistle. 

“Well damn, how many times has he come after you?” Their eyes met, her face flushing just the slightest from his pale gaze. Up close he was quite a looker past the menacing look he displayed but she wasn’t about to start thinking that train of thought. Not this early in the morning anyways, and certainly not with a damn pest in her hands. 

“This is the eighth time.” She grumbled. 

“Why not just kill it then? Would save you the trouble.” The man shrugged, eyeing the creature blankly without a hint of fear normal people would show for such a thing. She shared that sentiment. She wasn’t quite normal herself either and wasn’t the slightest bit phased by rabid animals in the forest. She’d throw down with a moose if she had to, without batting an eye. There were just some strange things you had to accept in life.

“Despite what the military trains us to believe, sometimes there’s better answers than killing an enemy.” She sighed, shooting the thing a petulant look. She didn’t know what that better answer was, per se, but she hoped she found it before she cracked the fuckers head open. 

Lumberjack remained silent, merely regarding her intently in a way that had her flush creeping its way down her neck and chest. She didn’t want to acknowledge that though so instead, she tightened her hold before moving away, readying herself to give a tight spin before launching the wolverine several yards away into the far trees and field, where it would hopefully fuck off for a while. The noise it made as it flew through the air had her positive that it may just finally do that– a high pitched screech that left her and lumberjack shooting each other scrunched looks for a long moment. They were bursting into loud laughter in seconds, never having heard such a noise from an animal but it also wasn’t everyday Rook decided to launch one either. 

That was as good an icebreaker as any and had somehow led to them walking together, despite still hunting their own prey. Not that she minded. She didn’t even know his name, but it felt comfortable around him, easy to talk to even though he was blunt and sarcastic, meeting her own quips head-to-head. 

They wandered all over together that morning, exchanging hunting stories, shooting game together and shit talking about each other's shooting skills when they’d seen the other up close. He was damn good with a rifle. She wasn’t even confident on who the better marksmen was at that point but she didn’t rightfully care, only interested in seeing more of it. The way he pressed the butt of the gun to his shoulder, one eye sliding shut to gaze down the scope. The same breathe in, aim, exhale, shoot she learned reflected in his shots but just a slight bit faster. It was definitely just the method, not the look of his face and how handsome he was while in the zone. Handsome in a burly, rugged sort of sense too, which was right in line with the kind of man she’d learned was her type (aka the opposite of the kind of man her ex-husband was). Plenty of times he’d caught her staring when it happened, but she’d tried her best to act like it was nothing; even more so when she noticed his intense gaze mimicking her own when she went to shoot her marks. 

By the time noon hit, they were making their way back to where her Jeep sat parked, strands of conies bundled in their hands and a buck over his shoulder that she’d killed before he could pop off the shot first. She’d agreed to split it though, just because the look he’d shot her when she teased him was so worth it. 

“Bet you don’t even know how to skin a deer properly, shortstack. Can you even reach it when it’s strung up?” He snarked, clearly taunting her right back in a way that had her rolling her eyes at him. 

“Been doing it since I was five, lumberjack. Probably can do it better than you.” She threw back, leading the way to the trunk of her Jeep, him hot on her heels. 

“That a challenge?” He gruffed.

His voice had gone deeper, rolling low in her ears and gut, making her head spiral. Jesus– she hadn’t had urges like the ones he gave her since she was nineteen. Shaking it off, she glanced back with a coy look, brow twitching up just enough to make it clear she was still teasing. 

“Why? Wanna get your ass handed to you?”

There was a tension in the air that followed her words, bubbling under the surface as he dropped the buck onto the tailgate along with his strands of rabbits. She set her own down too, merely busying herself with the motions of getting stuff loaded up but actively feeling his heated gaze on her the whole time. Simmering. Heating her up from the inside. The chilly morning air did nothing to tame the heat that rushed her cheeks, hoping it just seemed brought on by the hiking and not by him. He must’ve been able to read her better than she thought. 

“You’re a mouthy brat, aren’t you?” He rumbled, somewhere just behind her right ear. The growl to his voice had her core fluttering wildly, breath catching just the slightest. She wasn’t sure if he was just commenting or… flirting. The only way to find out was to test the waters but fuck she hadn’t flirted since she was a teenager. Ever since the horrible mistake that had landed her with, she hadn’t dated since– too much trauma, too much sadness to think about it– but here? Now? She could want for it now. 

“Always… Got a problem with it?” Her voice was breathy, glancing over her shoulder just slightly to eye him. Sharp blue eyes were waiting to find her gaze, intense and heated as they observed her. 

“Oh no... I’m skilled at taming wild animals, you’d be no different.” He murmured, closing in on her just enough that she could feel him at her back, pressing her to the tailgate. Testing the waters too. Inching ever so slightly into the mood they were making. 

“I’d love to see that.” She huffed, on the edge of a soft laugh but it died in her throat as he pressed into her fully, trapping her against the trunk and allowing her to feel every inch of him at her back. All hard edges and muscle, solid and big, encasing her form and making her breath hitch out of her chest. Fuck. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this wet, if ever, nor the last time she’d had sex, but her libido was on overdrive at the feel of him. She didn’t even know his goddamn name but couldn’t care less, just knowing she had a giant lumberjack behind her, and he was definitely interested in her climbing him like a tree. 

Which... is exactly what she did. 

She’d yanked him into the backseat of her Jeep the second he kissed her, both fumbling into the other like starved teens. There wasn’t even time to completely strip– just feral grinding and hands tugging at clothes impatiently. Her tank top was pushed down just below her breasts, bra unclasped by quick fingers then tossed while his jacket was shucked off and his jeans and belt undone with her own nimble touch. It was completely rushed and crazy, but she felt she’d earned such a wild spur of the moment tryst after all this time so, she went with it. Especially when it meant she got to enjoy him fingering her skillfully to her first orgasm in ages. Then a second when she got his pants down just far enough to ride him like her life depended on it. To say it was a good ride would be blasphemous. He’d rocked her entire world (and her poor Jeep) that day. Grabbed her by the hair, fucked her silly on his stupidly thick dick and praised her through the whole thing in a way that had her thighs quaking for days afterwards. Or maybe that was thanks to the second round, when he’d flipped her to the side and fucked her into the seat with deep punishing thrusts that had her seeing stars and howling for the whole woods to hear her. Every inch of skin he’d had access to had been left in bites and bruises, no part of her chest spared leaving her with plenty of good memories to keep that flutter going. 

Whatever the case, he’d added an even brighter warmth to her new life, and it seemed like the hell of her past was finally letting her go up in the north. She warmed at the memory from two days prior, the last part of their meeting being the highlight really. 

“I think I’ll take your word on those skills, lumberjack.” She’d panted, still trying to get her wits about herself while he nipped at her neck with a soft hum. 

“Jacob.” He rumbled, pressing his nose into her neck almost like a nuzzle that had her melting into mush. 

“Mm pleasure to see you in action, Jacob.” She said cheekily, enjoying the way he pulled back to shoot her a heated look. 

“You got a name, shortstack?” He huffed, nipping at her bottom lip before kissing her a few more times to leave her dazed and unfocused. 

“Call me Rook.” 

She melted a little more into her seat. Life was finally starting to go well for her. "

[velidewrites]

Summary: When 19-year old Feyre Archeron voluntarily takes her sister's place in the Hunger Games, she expects nothing but her imminent demise. But Feyre is a survivor, and as she is thrown into a battle between life and death, she discovers there are things worth fighting for.

Pairing: Feysand

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, graphic depictions of blood and gore, Feyre being sexy and unhinged, wait a second is that Rhysand? Is he also sexy and unhinged? AKA Feysand (literally) slaying the game

Read: Chapter II || Chapter III || Fic Masterlist || AO3

Chapter I: May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favour

From the Treaty of the Treason:

In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and female between the ages of 12 and 21 at a public “Reaping.”

These Tributes shall be delivered to the custody of The Capitol, and then transferred to a public arena where they will fight to the death until a lone victor remains.

Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as The Hunger Games.

***

The sun rose over the forest, waking up her prey.

Most of them had not yet shaken off winter’s cold embrace, buried safely underground in a deep slumber. But it was spring now—still in its early days, perhaps, though like many others in District 12, Feyre Archeron had exhausted her patience.

She was ready to hunt.

The morning frost covered the ground beneath her feet as she looked for animal prints. She’d take anything, at this point—the past few months had been colder than expected, and their icy breeze seemed to have permanently settled in the pit of her stomach, growling occasionally to remind her of its presence. As if she hadn’t already known. Hunger, these days, felt like the most stable companion she’d had in years.

A bush rattled somewhere, cutting through the silence, and Feyre’s grip on her bow tightened.

With her mind cursing the loud, heavy boots she’d chosen for the hunt—the only pair she owned apart from her slippers, really—she made way towards the sound, each step careful not to alert her prey. She’d done that too many times, stepping on a dried out branch like a fool, moments before firing the fatal shot. She couldn’t afford to do that again.

The bush rattled again, and Feyre reached for an arrow.

Please, please be a deer.

Another rattle. Feyre took another step, her heart pounding in her chest.

A deer would be good. More than good, actually—a catch like this would feed her and her family for a week, if not more. She could almost picture the look on Elain’s face as she placed its carcass on the kitchen table. Her sister could use some good news after the winter they’d had, and especially on a day like this.

Feyre shook her head, forcing her mind back into focus.

Two winters ago, she’d caught a wolf. It had been the best day of her life. Her family didn’t know hunger for three weeks, and Elain had sewn her a flimsy fur coat. Even Nesta had smiled a little bit.

I take back my wish, Feyre thought. Can you be a wolf instead?

The bush rattled for the final time, and, with a loud gurgle, her victim made its final step into the light.

“Oh, please,” Feyre groaned out loud, and fired the arrow straight through the turkey’s heart.

Served her right for setting her hopes so high. A wolf. How ridiculous, she thought, kneeling by the dead bird to pull the arrow out. Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” Feyre murmured. “At least you’re fat. Thanks for that, I guess.”

“You are disturbingly good at that,” a familiar voice said behind her.

Feyre shot up to her feet, whipping her head to its source. “Shit,” she swore, placing a hand on her racing heart. “You scared me!”

Arms crossed as he leaned against a tree, Isaac offered her a coy smile. “Sorry,” he said, his shaggy brown curls shimmering in the sun as he angled his head in wonder. “Who’s this little guy?”

Feyre raised the bird in front of her, making the show of displaying it in its full might. “That,” she said, a sly smile playing on her lips, “is my dinner.”

“Ah,” Isaac said. “Not a great way to start off the day. For him, I mean.”

Feyre shrugged, pulling the arrow out of the squelching flesh. “We all have to survive somehow.”

Something flashed in Isaac’s eyes as he took in her words. “Yes,” he said, his expression dimming. “I know.”

Feyre bit on her lip, her head dipping to the bloodied arrow in her hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“Relax, Feyre,” he said, taking a step in her direction. “I just came to watch you hunt.”

Shoving the turkey into her hunting bag, Feyre grimaced. “I’m afraid you’re in for a huge disappointment.”

“Still nothing, huh?”

“Just this pathetic little guy,” she said, patting the brown leather, then frowned. “I probably shouldn’t say that minutes after killing him.”

Isaac stared at her for a moment, then at the bag, its worn-out fabric already staining red. “He’s no less pathetic than the rest of us,” he finally said.

“What do you mean?” Feyre asked.

But Isaac had already turned away, his gaze focused on a point high up in the trees, where another bird chirped a sad melody.

“Mockingjay,” Isaac hummed, those absent eyes closing in content.

Pain stung at her chest as she watched him, so close within her reach, and yet so far away. She had barely known him before he returned from the Capitol two years ago, but she did remember him as the kind baker’s son who had always used to smile.

Now, Isaac only smiled when his mind escaped to a better place.

Sometimes, Feyre wished he would take her there with him—somewhere where she wouldn’t have to worry about the cold, the hunger, the looming realisation that this wretched reality would never change. Perhaps that was why she felt so drawn to him—in a world of pain and uncertainty, Isaac was a brief escape to peace.

“Do you know what day it is, Feyre?” his voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She assumed he’d dismissed her presence by now.

She answered him anyway.

“The Reaping.”

Isaac nodded. “The Capitol’s hunt.”

Feyre’s brows knotted in confusion. “I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at.”

At last, Isaac turned to her with a sigh. “How different, do you think, are we from your turkey?” He gestured to the bag at her side. “We, too, live out our lives in fear, our only hope to escape those who prey upon us.” Isaac shrugged. “The answer, Feyre, is: you and that turkey? You’re one and the same. The Capitol’s forest is only a little larger.”

A shiver went down her spine at the words, spoken behind the border yet dangerous nonetheless. They wouldn’t—couldn’t—hurt Isaac, not anymore, but her? She was fair game, and Isaac’s reflections were treason.

He must have realised this, and he flinched visibly, as if shaking off some haze. “I think I should go,” Isaac said, turning to her again with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

Ignoring the cold filling her veins, Feyre nodded. “I’ll walk you home.”

They walked through the forest, neither of them saying a word, even the mockingjays having seemingly decided to stay behind. Feyre couldn’t blame them. In Panem, not even birds were safe.

Especially not in District Twelve. Frankly, Feyre was surprised birds as beautiful as the mockingjay had still bothered to visit the place. Only ravens and magpies seemed to remain now, pests, as Nesta liked to call them, though Feyre had never agreed. They were drawn to jewels—to anything that glinted, really—scouting for any sparkle in the ground they could find. As if the stars they’d flown with in the night had not been enough. Feyre envied them, if anything. She used to dream of touching the stars, too.

Even the jewels were out of her reach, so far out, in fact, that she counted herself lucky if she managed to get her hands on coal. Coal, minerals—for the longest time, they had been her district’s export. The mines hid wonders of immeasurable beauty and infinite riches, her father used to tell her. Immeasurable beauty and infinite riches—it was no wonder the Capitol would put its hands all over them as soon as they’d see the light of day.

Isaac used to work at the mines, just like her father had. He never had to—his own father’s bakery had been doing a good enough job to sustain the family over the winter—but he volunteered. Feyre didn’t know the whole story, but according to Elain, Isaac had taken an old man’s place, too sick to answer the Capitol’s call to labour. And so, at seventeen, her friend had gone into the mines to become “his District’s pride.”

He had only stayed there two years, of course. Feyre remembered that day as clear as yesterday.

It had been the first time she’d been allowed to watch the Hunger Games. In what Nesta had called a foolish, ridiculous effort to spare them from the world’s cruelty, their father would send them to bed early, every night from the day the Games began to the day they ended. Nesta and Elain would always sneak out, watching the screen in horror from where Father could not see. Feyre had stayed, and would continue to do so until he died.

She was seventeen, and Nesta has hardly shared Father’s sentiment. It’s my last year, she’d said. If they choose me, at least I’ll have some comfort in knowing my sister are watching until the very end.

But they had not chosen Nesta, a girl called Clare Beddor taking the female Tribute’s title. She’d died almost immediately.

The last time Feyre had seen Clare—in real life, not getting butchered on the small screen at her kitchen counter—was when she stood in front of the District’s Hall of Justice, tears streaming down her face as she shook the hand of the male Tribute beside her.

Isaac Hale had not cried that day.

He never cried after his return, either, though he was never quite the same. The Capitol hadn’t let him mentor last year, and from the rumours, he wouldn’t mentor in this edition, either. He’s getting a well-deserved rest, the news would say. He’s gone mad, the locals would whisper. But Feyre knew they were all wrong.

Isaac was simply…broken.

“Mind your head,” he told her gently as they leaned under the electric fence.

She’d have to turn right to head home, but Feyre had promised to walk him back to the Victors’ Village, and she fully intended on keeping that promise.

She’d never been into his house. He told here there were cameras.

The noise grew louder, and soon enough, they reached the black market, its merchants shouting over each other, each of them claiming to have the freshest, most affordable produce from Eleven. Feyre avoided them all like the plague, unless she herself had something to trade. It had been far more enjoyable to look at their stock knowing she could do more than simply look.

“Does my eye deceive me?” A raspy laugh reached them. “Feyre Archeron, back from the hunt!”

She turned to the old man with a polite smile. “I’ve got nothing for you today, Andras.”

His one, yellow eye narrowed. “And Isaac Hale, back from the dead.”

Beside her, Isaac paled.

Feyre gripped the sleeve of his tunic, nudging him forward. “I’ll come on a better day,” she offered. The man only shrugged.

Isaac stopped her at the end of the street. “I can make my way from here.”

Her brows furrowed. “It’s okay, I can…”

He placed a hand on her arm. “Feyre. Go home, eat your turkey. I’ll be okay.”

Her hand covered his own, and she did her best to keep herself intact. “We could run away, you know.” She swallowed hard. “We could get away with it, you and I.”

For the first time, Isaac truly and openly smiled. “I’ll see you at the Reaping, Feyre.”

***

The smell of blood and carcass filled the house as soon as Feyre stepped foot inside.

Living on the outskirts of the District borders was a blessing, really. Feyre couldn’t imagine having to sneak past the centre’s Peacekeepers with a bow in hand and arrows on her back—not if she wanted to make it out alive, or with fifteen lashes taking her quiver’s place at the very least.

She had already learned her lesson once, though, with five long scars creasing her back if she ever dared forget it. She wouldn’t—that one time was enough to make her cautious. On busier days, she’d leave her hunting gear in the small hollow of the oak tree five minutes north of the electric fence. If any of the Peacekeepers confiscated her bow, it would be over. She could sell everything she owned, and she still most likely wouldn’t have been able to afford one. Bows, after all, were illegal to civilians, and the black market prices had been absurd these days.

And so, the only thing carried by Feyre today was the dead, bloodied turkey, her bag heavy with its stench. It was worse than she thought, it seemed, judging by the sickly green hue of Elain’s skin as she handed her the bird.

“Feyre,” her name came with a sigh of relief. “You’re home early.”

“Still nothing?” Nesta cut in, rising from the chair at the kitchen table.

Feyre’s lips formed a thin line. “This was the best I could do.”

Silence fell over the room, filled only by the distant sounds of scratchy caws—ravens, Feyre realised, picking whatever lunch they could find off the streets.

Elain, thankfully, was the one to break it. “I laid out some clean clothes for you on the bed.” The one bed they all shared all winter, keeping each other warm. “So that you can look nice at the…later today.”

Elain wiped her hands on the apron nervously, trying to mask the way they shook as she almost said the word that made her skin crawl and the blood drain from her face. The Reaping.

Her throat tight, Feyre forced her eyes back to her sister’s face. “Thank you.”

Elain nodded, still trembling slightly as she placed the turkey on the red-stained cutting board. Feyre’s heart clenched at the sight, her own dread forgotten in light of Elain’s, who’d been enduring this for far too long. Who, year after year, had watched her neighbours, her friends, leave and never return. Slaughtered on a tiny screen the Capitol had forced into their house, their anguished screams the only goodbye they could offer. Elain, for whom this Reaping could only mean one thing—death or freedom, a permanent release from Panem’s blood debt.

At twenty-one, this year marked the last time Elain could be drafted as District Twelve’s female tribute. It also marked her name being added to the pool for the tenth time. Tenth.

They all knew what it meant.

“You’re not going to be chosen,” Feyre said, her voice cutting through the dismal silence. “There are so many people your age in our District. They’re going to draw someone else’s name, and you’re going to go about your day like you do each year,” she dragged the words out, her eyes never leaving her sister’s. She could only hope they carried as much confidence as her tone did. “And then, you’ll finally be free. Like Nesta,” Feyre looked to her eldest sister, who nodded in affirmation. “And like so many others in Twelve. Okay?”

Elain loosed a shaky breath. “Okay,” she said, and took Feyre’s hands in hers. “We both will. You only have two years left, and then everything is going to be fine. Better.”

It was true—she did have two years left, but it seemed as though each year, there were less and less of District Twelve’s kids left. At the seventy-fourth Hunger Games, her name would be in the pool eight times.

Nesta’s name had never been drawn, and neither would Elain’s. Perhaps fate would be merciful to the Archeron sisters—perhaps it would see the life they led each day and decide it was punishment enough.

Feyre squeezed her sister’s hands back, forcing a smile onto her lips. “Of course.”

At last, her sister smiled, then let go, her hands moving to smooth out her apron yet again. “I’ll draw you a bath. You stink, you know.”

Feyre laughed at that. “I know.”

With a small shake of her head, Elain disappeared into the adjacent room, the door clicking lightly behind her.

“They probably wouldn’t mind seeing you with blood on your hands,” Nesta’s voice sounded behind her. “It’s how they like us best.”

Feyre turned to meet the icy blue of her stare. “A little help would have been appreciated.”

Nesta waved a hand. “You and I both know she won’t stop fidgeting until it’s all over.”

With a sigh, Feyre dropped to the wooden seat, her forehead resting against the roughened table’s surface. A wave of tiredness crashed into her all of a sudden, washing over every aching limb until she wanted nothing but to fall asleep right where she was sat. “I suppose you’re right.”

A loud creak of the chair moving beside her signalled Nesta taking her seat.

“Was there truly nothing in the woods?” her sister finally asked.

That woke Feyre right back up. “You think I lied before?”

“Of course not,” Nesta said calmly, crossing her arms on the table. “I just think you should take a break for a day or two. You might even find more of those birds if you’re well-rested.”

Teeth digging into the inside of her cheek, Feyre accused, “You’re making fun of me.”

“I really am not,” Nesta sighed, two slender fingers moving to rub her temple. “But Feyre, this turkey you caught will last us three days at best. What then?”

Anger began to boil in the pit of her stomach, rising steadily with each word. “Nesta, I already told you I’m doing the best I can.”

Another sigh. “I know, Feyre, I only mean that…”

“If you’re so dissatisfied with my hunting, maybe you should try it out yourself.”

Nesta straightened in her seat. “That is not what I meant.”

Her hands curled into fists. “No, I think that’s precisely what you meant.” She met Nesta’s gaze and her eyes narrowed. “Winter or not, I hunt every single day. What do you do to help us survive?”

Flames rose in Nesta's cold, hardened stare, her jaw clenching tight as she measured Feyre’s form beside her. “You have no idea,” she said, her tone practically seething, “You have no idea what I’ve done to help this family. What I’ve been doing ever since Father gave up on us, then died like the coward he was. What I’ll continue to do,” she added, her voice breaking slightly, “until both you and Elain no longer need me.”

Feyre opened her mouth, but it was Elain’s words that sounded beside her. “We’ll always need you, Nesta.”

Feyre turned to face her, and Elain reached for both her sisters’ hands, her doe-like eyes shining with concern. “We’ll always need each other.”

Neither of them said anything, and Elain released them with a sigh. “Your bath is ready, Feyre.”

Feyre rose from the table, stepping towards the bathroom before turning to face Nesta one last time. “Will you skin the turkey while I’m gone?”

With a small nod, Nesta stood as well. “Of course."

***

Elain had chosen a pretty dress, long and made of blue linen, though Feyre still thought she looked ridiculous. It didn’t help that her sister decided a braid would be most suitable for such an outfit, golden-brown and thrown over the side of Feyre’s shoulder. She wouldn’t be surprised if she got thrown in with the fourteen year olds.

When the alarm sounded, all thoughts of the dress and her hair evaporated from Feyre’s head.

“It’s time,” Nesta told them, already at the door.

Feyre took Elain’s hand and squeezed it once. Her sister did not answer.

They walked with the crowd, large and beige and never-ending. At least the spring breeze accompanied them, and, not for the first time in her life, Feyre was grateful Twelve rarely suffered a scorching sun.

Families moved slowly around them, an aura of whispers and murmurs hanging in the air as parents assured their kids that it would all turn out okay. Feyre had never wanted nothing more than to believe them.

“Feyre,” Elain said quietly, her jaw tight enough for Feyre to notice how hard she fought to keep it from trembling.

She squeezed her hand once more. “I’ll tell you what, Elain,” she said. “When we get back, we’ll each have another, small serving of the turkey. Okay?” she asked, and Elain nodded. “Good. It will give you something to look forward to. For the entirety of this Reaping, I want you to think of nothing but how good the food is going to be.”

“It was really nice,” Elain admitted.

Feyre smiled. “Exactly.”

“Peacekeepers,” Nesta warned beside them. They were getting close, the massive sign in the distance signalling they have reached the Hall of Justice.

“Wait, Nesta—” Elain began.

Nesta looked firmly into her eyes. “I’ll see you soon. Do not make a scene.”

With a hard swallow, Elain nodded.

And with that, Nesta moved aside to join the audience of grieving parents, siblings and friends.

“Elain,” Feyre told her one last time. “It’s going to be okay. Just breathe.”

Elain exclaimed in shock as a white-dressed, masked man grabbed her arm, pulling them apart. She thrashed for only a second before realising she was being held by a Peacekeeper.

“Registration,” the man barked.

Elain nodded frantically, and Feyre dared one last look at her sister before joining her queue.

Moments later, she was greeted by a stern-looking woman whose expression reminded her of Nesta.

“Name.”

“Feyre Archeron,” she breathed.

It would be okay. She’d done this millions of times.

Without another word, the woman reached for her hand, pulling it toward her violently before pricking her finger to draw blood. Feyre hissed as she pressed the fresh cut to a piece of paper, right beneath an awfully bad photo of her, dark circles under her eyes and her cheeks more hollow than the deepest of Twelve’s mines.

Some things never change, Feyre thought bitterly.

With that, she joined her sector, taking her place somewhere in the middle—close enough to see the large, white screen set beside the stage, but far enough to not be able to make out the faces of the Hall’s officials, standing straight and dressed in grey.

The queues behind her shortened within minutes, and when the last child took their place in the audience, the screen lit up without warning.

“War,” a voice rumbled over the crowds, old and wise and with a hint of grandfatherly authority that she’d gotten to know so well over the years. “Terrible war.

“Such a vile, cruel act,” President Hybern’s words continued to sound over the speakers, with images of smoke and fire flaring up the screen one by one. “An act that pushed our country into its greatest trial.”

Another bomb set off with an amplified thud.

“Seventy-four years ago, the thirteen Districts rebelled against the country that fed them, loved them, protected them. Their malevolence spreading nothing but hate and destruction over Panem.” Now, the screen showed the Districts—Seven and Ten, from what little Feyre could make out—with their Halls of Justice on fire, their buildings nothing more than gravel on the streets. Another image showed a woman holding a small child, crying out in agony over its lifeless body. “Widows, orphans, a motherless child. This,” the President emphasised over a clip of children weeping, “was the uprising that rocked our land until nothing remained.”

A girl standing beside Feyre sucked in a breath.

“And then came the peace,” the President’s voice was now calm, serene, as the screen displayed Eleven’s wheat fields, floating atop the wind’s gentle breeze. “A Capitol rose up from the ashes and created a new era of prosperity. Of love. Of family.” A child ran up to their mother, launching into her arms, both of them laughing in happiness.

“But peace comes at a cost,” Hybern warned. “Together as a nation, we swore we would never know such destruction again. Would never know such treason again.”

Feyre almost rolled her eyes, bracing herself for what was coming.

“And so it was decreed,” President Hybern announced proudly, “that each year, the Districts of Panem would offer up in tribute one young man and woman, to fight to the death in a pageant of honour, courage and sacrifice.” A young man on the screen stood on a podium topless, his muscles glistening in the sun, as he threw up his hands in victory. “The lone victor,” the President continued, “bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder of the Capitol’s generosity and forgiveness. This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future. This is how we stand together. As a family, as a nation. As Panem.”

With that, the video cut off.

Feyre had never heard the District’s centre be so silent.

And then, the door flung open, and a woman stepped in, her hands joined in a loud applause.

“Wasn’t this just beautiful?” she asked into the microphone at the stage’s centre, her voice dripping with syrup.

Feyre hadn’t seen her before—the Capitol must’ve sent someone new.

She was beautiful, to be sure—everyone in the Capitol was, or so the Districts were told, at least. Her face was covered with a thick layer of foundation so white she would have merged into the Hall’s wall behind her had it not been for her hair—crimson red, and long, falling in waves to her back and crowned with large black flowers Feyre had never seen in her life.

Feyre could just barely make out her face—nothing special, she decided. Dark eyes, straight nose. Pretty, she supposed, though she might have not been the best person to consult on such matters. Coal, on the other hand…

She didn’t even realise she’d snorted at her inner dialogue until the girl beside her elbowed her straight in the guts. She muttered a low “Ow!” before the girl’s glare told her all she needed to know.

Diverting her attention back to the crimson woman, Feyre listened again. “Now,” she crooned. “The time has come for us to select our courageous Tributes!” she clapped her hands again, and Feyre thought she had never seen a more idiotic spectacle in her life.

The woman winked, red-painted lips twisting in a smile. “If you were paying attention to the lovely video, you know we’re going to choose one lovely man and woman for the absolute honour of representing District Twelve!”

For a woman like her, Feyre supposed, everything must have been lovely. Even the imminent deaths of the two children she was about to hand-pick from her ridiculous crystal bowl.

“As always,” she winked again. “Ladies first.”

With a loud click of her heels on the wooden stage, she made way towards the bowl on Feyre’s right, a perfectly manicured hand dipping inside.

Feyre’s heard stopped. This was the time.

A few more seconds, and it will all be over.

Breathe.

Elain, I’ll let you have my extra serving, she swore in her head. Just let it all be over.

In the few seconds that seemed like an eternity, Feyre wondered if the bowl was made from real crystal, and if yes, if it had been her father’s dead hands that mined it.

And then, the crimson woman pulled out two cards.

She weighed them down in each hand, making a show of choosing before settling on the card on her left, the right card dropping back into the bowl.

Torturously slowly, she stepped back to the microphone and opened the card, her delighted smile now clear on the screen at the stage.

“The female tribute from District Twelve is…” She looked to the crowd, her eyebrows rising in feigned suspense. “Elain Archeron.”

No.

No no no no no no

“Elain Archeron?”

Please.

The ringing in her head was deafening.

“Where is the lovely Elain?”

Please.

Someone pushed Elain out of the crowd, her usually beautiful face now white as death.

Feyre’s whole body burned as she watched Elain move toward the stage on shaky legs.

“There you are! Oh, you’re gorgeous!” the crimson woman praised. “Come closer, dear, let us all have a look at you!”

A Peacekeeper pushed her closer, and Elain stumbled over a step.

Not Elain.

It couldn’t have been Elain.

It shouldn’t have been Elain.

No.

“No,” Feyre said out loud, her legs moving on their own accord. “No!” She shouted, pushing her way out of the crowd. “ELAIN!”

Elain’s head whipped back, and those doe eyes have never held such fear.

Two Peacekeepers reached her in seconds, holding Feyre back and into the crowd again. “No! LET ME GO!” Feyre trashed, kicking one of them in the shin.

She forced herself free.

“I VOLUNTEER!” Feyre shrieked with a strength her lungs had never known before.

Her entire body stilled, as if she’d surprised it just as much as the crowd around her.

“I volunteer as Tribute.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

“My, my!” the presenter wondered. “I believe we have a volunteer!”

The crowd began to murmur.

“Come on up, my dear.”

It had only been by Feyre’s sheer will that her feet carried her forward. She didn’t stop until she reached Elain, still frozen in place.

“Feyre,” Elain breathed, tears falling freely down her face.

“It’s okay,” Feyre whispered. “You’re okay.”

She didn’t know how she managed her way through the stairs and onto the stage, but within the next few moments, Feyre stood beside the crimson woman, her appearance even more ghastly up close.

“What is your name, my dear?” she asked.

Feyre looked over the crowd, her head still spinning.

Someone subtly cleared their throat beside her.

“What?” she turned toward the sound.

“I asked about your name, dear.”

“Feyre,” her voice was hoarse, and she swallowed hard. “Feyre Archeron.”

“Ah,” the woman acknowledged with a motherly nod. “And am I right in assuming that was your sister whose place you have just taken?”

Feyre nodded, her eyes still searching the crowd. “Yes.” Was Elain safe? Was Nesta? “Yes.”

“Well, Feyre Archeron, you are District Twelve’s first volunteer!” she turned to the microphone, addressing the crowd. “Such bravery. Such heart. Congratulations, lovely Feyre.”

Congratulations?

The woman clasped her hands together. “And now for the gentlemen!” she said happily, making her way to the other bowl.

Feyre’s heart sank as she realised her sisters were no longer in the crowd, and neither was Isaac. What happened to them? Where did they take them?

Oh, Isaac, Feyre thought. We should have ran away.

“The male Tribute from District Twelve,” the woman’s voice sounded loudly beside her again, shaking Feyre out of her daze, “is Tamlin Rosethorn.”

The florist’s son.

He stepped out of the crowd, pale yet standing tall and strong. His muscles reflected through his white shirt as he stepped onto the stage.

“Go on,” the woman encouraged with a smile. “Shake hands.”

Tamlin locked her hand in a tight grip, and as Feyre met his emerald gaze, she wondered if he would kill her first.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your Tributes from District Twelve!” she exclaimed for the final time to no applause but the sound of Panem’s anthem playing over the speakers. “Thank you, and may the odds be ever in your favour!”

“Come now,” she now addressed the two of them directly. “Inside.”

Feyre did not know how she got pushed into one of the Hall’s rooms and sat on a chair, the door locking her inside. “Wait here,” a muffled voice told her.

So Feyre waited.

An eternity, or maybe a second, had passed when the door opened again, two figures launching themselves in.

Feyre shot up from her seat.

“One minute,” the muffled voice told them.

Elain was sobbing as she threw her arms around Feyre’s neck. “Feyre. My beautiful Feyre.”

“Everything will be okay,” Feyre told her, forcing strength into her voice.

For Elain.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Feyre. I would’ve—”

“It’s done now,” Feyre said, pulling away to meet her sister’s gaze. “Listen, I don’t have much time.”

“Promise you will make it out,” Elain begged.

“I promise,” Feyre lied.

Her head now turned to Nesta, who began, “Feyre—”

“I need you to listen to me carefully,” Feyre cut her off. “My bow and arrows are hidden in the tallest oak tree in the forest, five minutes north of the fence by the house. Talk to Isaac. He will teach you how to shoot.” Nesta nodded, and for the first time, Feyre saw silver lining her sister’s eyes. “Take care of her.”

Nesta nodded again. “I always have.”

Feyre loosed a breath of relief. “I know,” she said, then pulled Nesta into their embrace.

“Time’s up,” someone said behind them, and Feyre took a step back.

“Try to win. Please,” Nesta told her.

There was nothing else to say, so Feyre said nothing. Soon, her sisters were escorted out.

“You only have thirty seconds,” a Peacekeeper told her, and another visitor appeared in the doorway.

“Isaac,” Feyre breathed, but he stopped her before she could waste their time with nothing but empty goodbyes.

“You can hunt,” he said, his eyes cleared and more determined than ever. “Use it.”

Feyre shook her head. “We both know I’m already dead, Isaac.”

He opened his mouth, but Feyre stopped him. “Take care of them. Please, promise that whatever you do, you won’t let them starve.”

At that, Isaac wrapped his arms around her. “I will,” he whispered into her ear. “I promise.”

They looked at each other one last time, and Feyre said, “We should’ve run away, like I told you.”

He offered her a sad smile. “You’d never leave your sisters, Feyre. Only death could ever stand between you.”

“Yes,” Feyre said, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I know.”

With that, Isaac left, and as the door closed quietly behind him, Feyre stepped into her new reality.

She was truly alone.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @fieldofdaisiies @vulpes-fennec @houseofhurricane @reverie-tales @kingofsummer93 @melting-houses-of-gold @labellefleur-sauvage @shadowriel @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @headcanonheadcase

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Some John Wick characters and animals I think could fit them.

I just wanted to make this, but I chose these three for now.

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John Wick

★ A wolf. Specifically a dark black wolf. I think a wolf is perfect for him, they are very brave, ready to sacrifice themselves for their pack and they're ready to do anything to protect their pack which reminds me on how John probably was with Helen. I think John's grief is very similar on how wolves grieve their dead mate as well. Yeah, they can move on, but it takes them some time. And well, John can never forget Helen. What a lone wolf, John.

★ For a herbivore version, I really like the idea of a clydesdale horse for him. You can check that out here by @thewhumpcaretaker over here and also has deer Santino :)

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Santino D'Antonio

★ A wolf because I love wolves if it wasn't obvious. I imagine him like a brown wolf. He wants to be the leader you know. He wants to lead, and therefore, a wolf fits him perfectly. But he was still very confident in what he was doing and wolves to show their confidence quite a lot. They need it in their lives. Confidence in animals is how they survive and defend themselves from other animals, just like wolves do when a predator attacks. Another carnivore animal I think fits him is a leopard, and Santino does give a "feline movements" vibe. If I make sense. And the eyes you know, beautiful green eyes.

(Two different types of deer bc I couldn't decide)

★ For a herbivore, I definitely agree that a deer fits him perfectly. Fancy antlers, they're also royal animals of the forests. They're just beautiful creatures of the forests.

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Gianna D'Antonio

★ Well, since she's Santino sister, I'd also say the same animals for her, BUT she is really giving me a lioness vibe. I mean, I have a lioness oc based on her. You know, lions are royal animals, and lioness are very special. How they hunt together, care for each other, will literally fight off a new male lion that chased off the previous male of the pride, especially if that male tries to kill their cubs. And I think Gianna is like that, very protective, royal, beautiful, and will fight if she has to, ofc she's a queen.

★ For a herbivore, I think also a deer. Deer the royal animals of the forests.

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Okay, made only for these three... The Rocket Team. Yes, that's this trio name, I decided I will call them like that. Have these three and animals, yeah, thank you :]