#but also people with scent sensitivities exist

[halfelven]

idk why i feel like confession time in the middle of the day on a wednesday but it’s confession time that the real reason i barely attempt to date anymore is because i loathe kissing unless we have both just had a gum, brushed our teeth, and then drank a nice big glass of water

like i get that i’m a bit extreme in that when i was in the states and couldn’t get my nice finnish clean your teeth gun i’d rinse my mouth with water and soap when i was on the go and didn’t have toothpaste and now i have gum after every single thing i eat but like people’s oral hygiene is not on my level and it’s so gross. they also do not drink enough water. which, sure, i’m also a bit extreme about. but i’ve always been a bit uptight. it’s not changing.

[yeehawtist]

i think a lot of people miss out on this but spending time with diverse groups of disabled people makes you realize that people's needs will constantly contradict each other. if one person stims, tics, speaks, breathes, etc. loudly, then there will be at least one other person who can’t stand the sound of it. they need to be able to leave if they need it. the loud person cannot be forced to stop being loud but the one who is sensitive to loudness cannot be forced to tolerate something they can’t either. maybe there’s a person who needs aromatherapy to cope with or reduce problems that their disability causes them. but there may also be a person who gets seizures or migraines from strong scents. you cannot deny that coping skill but you cannot let it trigger someone either. someone who struggles to sit might need a standing desk, someone who needs to sit will need a chair, some people might need alternative seating or flexible seating, and all of those options need to be available. one standing desk in the corner isn’t going to cut it most of the time and people need to be able to accept that and do better.

i could give endless examples of times when people's needs will contradict each other. most of which i’ve seen happen in real life spaces. physical, processing, communicating, everything can be contradictory to someone else's need. everything. a truly accessible space will try to accommodate to all those who exist within it.

[animeyanderelover]

May or may not write in the next few days also some poly!relationship with Morticia and Gomez Addams (as portrayed in the two movies in the early 90s). For now I would like to try my skills with my currently other hyperfixation. We're talking about the Wolverine version as portrayed in the first 3 X-Men movies.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, overprotective behavior, death

Wolverine Hc's

The situation would be quite difficult and most definitely unexpected for Logan. He has spent years just aimlessly wandering around with no clear recollection of who he is and how he came to be, spent years just getting by somehow before Professor Charles and the X-Men offered him the closest thing to a family he has had since he came to be. He's loyal yet still sees himself as a loner who prefers keeping to himself. He's very conscious of his own feelings above anything else and even though he's known for his short temper and crude attitude he is by no means a bad person which is why he tries to put some distance between the two of you, fully aware that you shouldn't associate with him. At that point it is most likely too late already. For Logan to get so attached to you to the point of obsession it's likely that the two of you have known each other for a while now and that you've opened his heart up without even being aware of it. You've essentially just gained yourself a guard dog who will take any physical harm for you all too gladly.

Whilst Logan can be very possessive, especially in an established relationship, above all he is very protective. He spends most of his days just watching you from a distance, usually able to track you down by scent and sound alone. Normally his days do not require him to be overly busy unless Professor Charles needs something from him so he has a lot of time on his hands which he gladly devotes to you. All too often you have him always a few feet away from him, watching over you and willing to interfere as soon as anything or anyone should pose a threat to you. As someone who doesn't like when his own freedom is limited Logan at least gives it a try to not be too protective yet the fact that his senses are so much keener do not make this task easier. Never think that he isn't good in noticing your current mood. He hears it when your heart starts racing and his elevated sense of smell makes him very sensitive to changes in your body odor as he's able to detect the chemical changes when your emotions change. This plays a role in how he reacts and if his darling is highly emotional or on a more anxious Logan will be naturally more protective.

Your existence is a blessing as much as it is a curse for him simply because you make Logan aware just how painfully lonely he feels now that he has started yearning for you. You make him miserable in more than one way. Somehow he makes the situation even worse for himself though whilst being your devoted watchdog from the shadows. He's usually there when you spend time with friends or family outside, observing from a safe distance all whilst feeling a strange sensation tugging at his heartstrings, a strange sensation edging between warm comfort and cold loneliness. He'd like to be by your side too but knows that there are things he still has to work on. Jealousy is one of a few emotions that tends to make you aware that there is in fact a man following you around and the first time you hear that guttural growl from behind you you believe for a short moment that a beast is standing right behind you. One may call him too protective but he isn't irrational when he's jealous for neither his nose nor his ears lie to him. He knows exactly when you feel attracted to someone or vice versa.

People have insulted him more than once as being no better than an animal, a beast with no mind of his own. That is not true as Logan doesn't blindly attack people but killing others he will do if it guarantees your safety. There's a difference between arrogant stupidity that some may put up for show and the genuine bloodlust , the will that it takes to kill someone and Logan is able to tell the difference which often spares idiots their life as a few simple threats with his adamantium claws are more than sufficient enough to have grown men running away like little kids. Anyone who really comes for your life though will be met with the beast he has been called he is. Logan is fully prepared to murder anyone who would even dare try to lay a finger on you and his regenerative abilities tend to make him very reckless, fully prepared to use his own body as a shield and endure all injuries if it means that there isn't a single scratch on you. The one mistake someone could make though is triggering him to go berserk by hurting you, leaving him attacking and hurting anyone around him blindly, his mind clouded in red rage as he tears through blood and flesh.

In all the years since he has awoken without any memories of his previous life he has never been able to settle down once as a unease deeply rooted within his soul kept him moving from place to place, too restless to ever allow himself to sit still for even a moment. He has no place where he could keep you and Logan knows that yet strangely enough the longer he starts spending time near you the more he feels a previously unfamiliar ease washing over him, one that motivates him to give a permanent stay in a place a chance, something that previously used to be unimaginable for him. Even if he were to actually take that step and buy a small house he would still refrain himself from kidnapping you unless his trauma that lays dormant somewhere in his mind would resurface when he has to witness the heart-shattering situation of almost losing you, a vice on his mind that would taunt him forever that you almost lost your life because he couldn't protect you. The guilt will most likely only serve as an additional shackle around his soul yet his paranoia would ultimately outweight his guilt.

You may fall in the same trap as others do when they initially lay eyes upon the wild-looking man. Whilst Logan is gruff, crude and quite aggressive at times he is not only that. He's more but that is a side he only reserves for the people he trusts and you figure out that there is far more beneath his hardened surface. He's kind, he's loyal, surprisingly gentle and downright flirty once you get to know him better. He's usually careful with his touches, aware that his grip may hurt you more due to the adamantium that coats all of his bones. Your scent usually manages to calm him as soon as he gets a whiff of it unless it would be tinged with distress in which case his own emotions would quickly start stirring up with worry. There are still occasionally moments where he appears more uncertain and hesitant, moments where he questions just how much he should indulge in all of this and to a degree even how much he deserves it. At that point he's already aware that it is far too late to recover though as he'd leave half of his heart with you if he were to distance himself from you now, doomed to always live only half the life he could have if he were to have you.

[esoteric-chaos]

Safety in Witchcraft

What’s not talked about enough in the spiritual community is mundane safety along with spiritual. Critical thinking is vital. I wanted to share a lot of my personal rules for myself that I have adapted into my craft.

Fire safety, never leave an open flame unattended. Ever. Always burn in an open enough area with a fire safe dish or on ceramic tile away from animals and children. If you leave the room extinguish the flame. Do not sleep with fire going. I know we want to keep that spell going even during a nap but sometimes we don’t wake up in time for danger. This is absolutely vital to keep you safe. It won’t ruin a spell I promise or anger anything. Please do not add those herbs to that candle. I know it’s nice and pretty but that is a fire hazard. Stay safe.

On that note always have an open window or a well ventilated area when burning items. That goes for herbs, incense, or candle. Smoke inhalation can ruin your lungs.

Rodents, reptiles, birds, any animal is sensitive to scents and have small respiratory systems. Be careful using anything around them. Research what can be used around them. I mean research! Cross reference. Use veterinarian hospital guides, not pro essential oil blogs. Please don’t put any essential oils on your pets. They can be seriously harmed.

Moon water actually molds, very easily. So can herbal blends if not stored correctly. Check frequently and use before end of date. Distilled water is your friend to prolongs shelf-life along is storing in a cold dark place.

Witchcraft and magic is not a replacement for medical treatment and medically prescribed medication. It absolutely can aid your treatment but it is never a replacement.

Do not ingest any herbal remedies without consultation with your doctor and/or Herbalist. Especially if you have pre-existing conditions and need to take medications for it. Things can conflict and are deadly.

Also forage responsibly. Unless you are 100% certain what you have foraged is the correct plant. Don’t even chance it. It’s not worth sickness or in worst cases death.

Do NOT ingest essential oils. I don’t care what you have heard from pro essential oil pages. The distillery methods are not safe for ingestion. It can tear up your stomach lining and throat. Cause extreme nausea and vomiting. Seizures and in worst cases death.

Some covens and practitioners are not your friends. Be cautious and use stranger danger. Be cautious and never give out all of your personal information online. There are predatory people everywhere, including in this community. Please be safe. Always use your gut instinct.

Please feel free in the comments and tags to add important safety pointers you have.

[genderfluid-insomniac]

For the NSFW Asks, what are Macaque and Sun Wukong favorite spots to fuck their S/O?

NSFW alphabet with Macaque and Sun Wukong (separately with reader)

Macaque~

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s the best at aftercare since he is already well-versed at reading people and you’re no different. You both are very good at communication so unless he’s fucked you so your only able to mumble you’re able to say what you want. Usually, it consists of a warm bath for both of you and drying off with a warm before drinking some water or warm tea as you cuddle together.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part of yours is your thighs and neck because there’s so much soft skin to mark up and bite, not to mention how plush they are for him to grab and rest his head on. Your neck is the perfect place to take in your scent and mark up your neck for all to see that you’re taken.

Your favorite body part of his is of course his beautiful six ears and how they’re all so sensitive, fluttering and twitching at every touch or kiss you press to the shell of one of his ears. Another favorite part is his chest, how it’s decorated with beautiful scars showing how strong your mate is in addition to his conviction to protect you and the flustered reactions you get from trailing kisses down it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes to cum in you as a sign of possession and he loves how it looks when his cum is dripping out of your hole. The feeling of you squeezing him as he orgasms in you makes him feel like you’re his and how he’s able to do something no one else can as your mate.

He will respect your decision if you don’t want him to cum inside you and pull out, smirking as he cums on your face and kissing you. Regardless of wherever he cums he’s going to clean it off with a warm damp cloth.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’d never tell anyone this but he would love to be worshipped and praised for hours about every aspect of him. Specifically about his ears and how he looks without glamour because he’s already very hesitant to show people what he really looks like and if he hears praise from you he’ll be putty in your hands.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

As much as he acts all suave and smooth he isn’t that experienced however it doesn’t mean he’s terrible at it. On the contrary, Macaque learns very quickly by your reactions and what you like and don’t like. Even finding little favorite spots to worship on your body that you didn’t even know existed and always checking in to see if you’re alright or if anything he’s doing is hurting you. Either way, he’s going to find out through soft lustful whispers or silent lewd actions.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Macaque’s fine with any position as long as he gets to see your face and those gorgeous expressions of pure ecstasy you make. Because of his trauma with Lady Bone Demon, he doesn’t like being in any restricting position like having his hands or legs bound and unable to move like he’s caged in. He generally wants to be close to you, to kiss you, and to hold you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Macaque’s a mix of both but is more serious than goofy and does tease you or playfully mock you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Granted he is a monkey so the word “groomed” has a different meaning for them and he is very well groomed (you help him since it’s a relaxing activity for both of you). He knows there’s definitely animal fur-safe dye but one he’s not taking any chances and two he just doesn’t wanna dye his fur.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He tries to be romantic but Macaque has his own way of being romantic towards you and though to others it might seem strange or distant you know it really is loving. He is very intimate though and gives so much loving pleasure that shows every ounce of care he has for you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Macaque does masturbate whenever he can’t be with you when he’s aroused since he’s not going to steal you from any important work you’re doing to fuck you as much as he wants to. He has patience.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Primal play games, breeding, praise, body worship, teasing, and marking.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His favorite places to fuck you are private places and places that are his. He doesn’t want to risk anyone walking in on both of you for obvious reasons but the risk factor of possibly being seen makes his heart rate spike and makes him even harder. It should go unsaid that any place that either of you find uncomfortable or don’t want to fuck in is going to be respected on both sides.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Any reactions you give when he’s training or working out since it’s very obvious for him to feel when someone is looking at him. Seeing you sweat from post work out or flushed face.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

This is obvious but anything that hurts you or brings up any trauma for both of you. Other than that he’s willing to try stuff out but will draw lines for your safety both physically and mentally (green, yellow, red color codes check-ins).

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He has no preference for giving or receiving but he adores giving you oral sex because he knows how to play your body like an instrument and fully loves drawing orgasm after orgasm from you while anchoring your hips so you can’t pull up unless you yell the safeword.

Like before Macaque doesn’t have much experience if any but he’s a very quick learner and becomes very skilled just by trial and error with your reactions. Even more skilled if you tell him what to do and what not to do in regards to what you like or want.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can be both if it’s been a rough day and some things that irritated him or someone came onto you then you’re in for a rough fucking (ofc your safety is the top priority even though it’s intense). If you’re both feeling soft toward each other then you’ll have very sweet loving and sensual sex.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He finds them okay and is open to them since he can make them just as pleasurable as long sessions and it can be done just as skilled.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s willing to try stuff out and experiment as long as it doesn’t hurt either of you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It’s Macaque. Someone equal to Sun Wukong. He can go for hours and will still have a good amount of stamina thanks to the regular training he does.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does not own toys and doesn’t know how to use them well but one quick Google search or conversation with you will solve that.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

This should be obvious as Macaque will tease you till you give up or can’t function and is merciless.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He isn’t that loud despite how he is very dramatic and makes hushed moans and groans. Loud enough for you to hear and for his voice to become scratchy if you both do have sex for multiple rounds.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He’s a possessive motherfucker so expect your body to be covered in hickeys and bruises. Most of them he purposely made so you can hide them but there are a few that are pretty hard to hide so others can see you already have a mate.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Again with the training he does and the amount of battles he’s been in he’s pretty toned and muscular which he’s more than willing to show off. However, with everything he’s gone through his body is littered with scars, and many of them he purposely hides because he thinks they’re all ugly, especially his blind scarred right eye.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It depends if he's worked up then it’s pretty high but most of the time it’s a normal amount if the world isn’t ending like the normal hijinx that happens.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s not going to fall asleep until you’re asleep and taken care of.

Sun Wukong~ A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

You’re going to have to tell him what to do or give him some advice besides common sense since he’s not totally familiar with them. He can help with a lot i.e. bringing you to the hot springs on the mountain to clean you up, cuddling with you in his nest of blankets, or getting you food or water from the orchard or freshwater streams.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Without a doubt, his favorite part is your hips or thighs since there is so much space to mark up for others to see you’re his mate and lover. They’re also so plush and easy to grab and squeeze when he’s worshipping you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Like Macaque he wants to cum inside you because someday he’d love to have kids and would love nothing than to breed you. Of course, if you’re not okay with it then he’ll gladly pull out and if you’re on birth control you’re gonna have to explain it to him cause he doesn’t exactly get how he can cum in you but not get you pregnant.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Even though you both are bare to each other Wukong still wants to keep his glamours up since he thinks he looks ugly without them and in his mind who could blame him? From being thrown into the trigram furnace which gave him his scary red eyes, being burned by the samadhi fire which singed his fur in many places to having scars around his head from the circlet. So please give him all the love he deserves which is all the love you can give and more.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He acts like he has experience and knows what to do but he has zero experience and it kind of shows even though he puts on a good act of being confident and cocky about it. Of course, he has a rough idea of what to do but he wants to make it as pleasurable as he can for you so help him out and give him some advice.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He doesn’t really know the names of any of the positions just more of an idea of how each person is positioned but he adores being able to see all the faces you make when he’s fucking you stupid. He’s not as flexible as people might think but he can do a lot of positions and is very curious about trying different positions with you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Short answer, yes. Long answer, have you seen this man er- monkey rather because he is so silly and that doesn’t stop for when you’re in the bedroom. He’ll make jokes on occasion about your reactions or act like he can’t hear what you when you beg just to hear you more.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Granted he is a monkey so the word “groomed” has a different meaning for them and he is very well groomed (you help him since it’s a relaxing activity for both of you). He knows there’s definitely animal fur-safe dye and can be convinced but it takes a lot with the promise that it can’t be extreme or large.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s very intimate and loving during the moment. He loves to be cheesy both in and out of the bedroom, it comes out way more when he’s with you than with the others, and mostly falls into laughter because he catches himself staring lovingly/lustfully at you (it’s become a habit at this point.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Because he’s extremely isolated and unfortunately can’t always have you with him or you can’t take him with you he only has one option if he gets horny. He masturbates more than one would think but he is extremely touch-starved (both him and mac are).

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Primal play games, breeding, praise, body worship, and marking.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His favorite places to fuck you are private places and places that are his. He doesn’t want to risk anyone walking in you both since that thought alone makes him furious and of you for obvious reasons since you’re his mate and his alone. It should go unsaid that any place that either of you find uncomfortable or don’t want to fuck in is going to be respected on both sides. However, it is difficult since both of you worry that one of his siblings will walk in which is bad for both sides since neither one of you wants the monkeys to be traumatized from seeing something they shouldn’t of.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

All it really takes for him is to see you working out/ sweating or especially affectionate as much as he will deny it because if the time gap between you both seeing one another is big then yeah he’s going to be motivated.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

This is obvious but anything that hurts you or brings up any trauma for both of you. Other than that he’s willing to try stuff out but will draw lines for your safety both physically and mentally (green, yellow, red color codes check-ins).

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves giving you oral sex because of the noises he can coax out of you and how your body writhes in pleasure with each orgasm he causes. He won’t stop you if you want to suck his dick and very much enjoys it, praising you for what you’re doing and not stopping the moans leaving his mouth. All in all, he is more leaning towards giving but is happy receiving.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can be both if it’s been a rough day and some things that irritated him or someone came onto you then you’re in for a rough fucking (ofc your safety is the top priority even though it’s intense). If you’re both feeling soft toward each other then you’ll have very sweet loving and sensual sex which is usually what happens since he loves worshiping you while taking it slow.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn’t like it much but it is helpful when MK is coming over to train he forgets so he’s trying to convince you in his way that you both have plenty of time despite knowing you don’t. He can and will make them just a satisfying compared to when you take your time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Wukong is absolutely down to experiment (as long as it’s safe and consensual) with different kinks or positions and may suggest some himself. He is a risk taker but it’s more toned down now and he’s more wary of the consequences from said risks, doesn’t mean he’s going to half-ass fucking you stupid until his name in the only thing you can say.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It’s Sun Wukong, The Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Someone who took on all of heaven and didn’t break a sweat. He can go for hours and will still have a good amount of stamina thanks to the regular training he does.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own toys because of the obvious reasons of he doesn’t need sex toys since he doesn’t even understand why someone would want a machine in you even if gives you pleasure. You’re going to have to explain it in other ways ;) and he’ll come around, seeing how/why people like using vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, gags, nipple clamps, etc and how he can make you’re body melt into euphoria with the help of these help little devices. He will tease you if you own any and ask if you’ve thought of him whenever you use them.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t tease as much as Macaque but he still loves the reactions you give when he teases you and much prefers to fluster you with spooking you in different forms like when he was a bird or a butterfly. He teases you maybe 2 or 3 times a day but loves every second of it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s loud and makes a lot of groans, praising you about how warm you are and how you grip his cock just right.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He for sure asks you if he can use his clones in the bedroom and the moment you say yes is when 3 or 4 Wukongs, including the real one, are marking you up so people know you’re his. He doesn’t get jealous of his clones usually but there are times and they’ll all compete to see which one can make you cum the fastest or give you the most pleasure.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Again with the training he does and the amount of battles he’s been in he’s pretty toned and muscular which he’s more than willing to show off. He does have a bit of a dad bod which isn’t bad but you find it cute and especially the little peach colored heart on his chest. Unfortunately because of his actions against heaven and his tough journey to deliver the scriptures with his master the king has many scars from serious injuries as well as the samadhi fire burning (singes)his fur in places. One of his insecurities is his fire red eyes from the trigram furnace. Every one of his insecurities under his usual light armor you find attractive and beautiful, complimenting how handsome he is whenever he undresses and kissing each scar with so much gentle love.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Wukong’s sex drive is pretty high given he is clingy (in a good way) and wants to be around you so much, if it’s including how touch-starved he is then he loves to make love to you as it’s the best way to show how much you mean to him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s very tired after any session since it’s definitely more than one or more rounds but he wants to make sure you’re comfortable and relaxed. Wukong tries his very best to do aftercare right since you’re his mate but sometimes he wonders if there’s anything else he can do to make you more comfortable. Maybe tell him what you want and it’ll be yours, if it cuddles then you aren’t getting away from him until morning or until you have to leave.

[howtofightwrite]

I've got a world-building/combat question. I have these two warring nations in my setting, both medieval-ish tech levels. One of them figures out how to make magical flying craft that are basically WWI airplanes. The other country invents dragon riders in response. Since then, they've been at war for ~60 years. I'm trying to figure out how the heck an air force would alter medieval combat strategies. If you've any suggestions, I'd appreciate it

The first, and biggest world building problem is that magic is part of your overall tech level. Ironically, Diskworld is an excellent example of how magical technology can basically function as an alternate path for social and technical development, though, honestly, a lot of high-magic settings tend to have tech leakage from magic.

One of the more common examples that comes to mind are “magical radios.” Either it's an enchanted device that allows person to person communication, or it's direct telepathic communication, but whatever it is, it serves a fundamentally similar role to a handheld radio, or (depending on how it works) a phone. The thing is, it's functionally a magical replacement, and it would affect society in much the same way those technologies have.

This is a long way to say, if your magical combat technology has WWI-grade planes, there is a very real possibility that a lot of your warfare is also going to be at a similar magi-tech level, if not more advanced. Having written that, I'm reminded of The Red Star comic series; though, that has a heavy Soviet aesthetic, and is not-at-all medieval.

Again, it doesn't really matter if you have fully-automatic firearms, or if you have a bolt thrower that conjures and propels crystals at hyper-sonic speeds into your foes. If they have a similar rate of fire, and similar accuracy, the meaningful change is texture. Your characters might see tiny crystal fragments shattered on the floor, or embedded into walls, instead of bullet holes. There may be no smell, or conjuring the crystals might leave a different odor. A handheld lightning projector might leave scorch marks, and a scent of ozone, for instance.

Magic might also factor into armor and defenses. If you can use a magical ward to dispel conjured objects, that might be extremely useful for fortifying specific targets against incoming conjured attacks, but it would likely be wholly ineffective against the lightning projector, or some other kind of directed energy beam weapon.

“Inventing,” dragon riding as a response to someone else making a magical airship, does strike me as an odd cause-and-effect. If dragon riding was that easy, it would seem likely that someone would have militarized them long before that point. Inventing flying objects that could function as a hard counter to dragons feels a little more natural. Or, magical, AA installations. Though, this is something that could probably be finessed, if you're really committed to the setup. It's also worth remembering that air superiority is an extremely potent advantage, even if you're not sure what to do with it, meaning that if one side suddenly had fliers, and the other side couldn't come up with a counter in short order, they'd be picked apart, and the war wouldn't have this 60 year timescale.

If it seems like I went to ranged weapons very quickly, there's a simple reason. You can't joust from a plane. Your options are to either propel objects at people, or drop things on them from above. Dragons also (usually) have the option to breathe fire on them. Now, firearms did exist in the late medieval era. So, that's not that far out of range. I'm less sure of the invention of bombs. At least, of the variety you could deliver to your enemy on the battlefield. Though, it occurs to me, you could probably use a catapult or trebuchet to deliver an explosive payload, if the explosives were stable enough to survive launch, but sensitive enough to detonate on impact. (Of course, if you have some kind of magically primed explosive, that stays stable until it is ejected from the catapult, and then explodes on impact, that would work.)

Looping back to the timescale again, this would require some pretty potent defensive capabilities. A dragon, with the ability to breathe fire, and the capacity for strategic thinking, could easily starve out an entire kingdom, simply by making a habit of torching all the cropland it could find. It doesn't, particularly matter if it gets all the food, so long as it torches a meaningful percentage of the available crops. When you have farmers going hungry, you're going to see food production dipping, exacerbating the problem. When you have soldiers going hungry, they're not going to be able to fight as effectively. When you have the peasantry going hungry, you're going to see civil unrest, and probably rebellions coming for their lord's head. You can't wage a war against a hostile nation under those circumstances. (In fact, there were multiple peasant revolts during the Hundred Years War, which basically stalled out France's ability to fight. England also suffered multiple peasant uprisings at roughly the same time. Though, those were motivated by taxation, which ends in a similar place.)

A related concept that's somewhat hinted above, is that wars are expensive, and both France and England found themselves facing uprisings because of taxation needed to support the ongoing war. (The irony being that both nations encountered this at roughly the same point in history. Roughly 40 years into the war.) A war that's been going for 60 years will likely have ravaged the economies of the involved nations. This isn't necessarily something that your characters would be aware of, unless you expand the context to show non-wartime economies.

The simplest explanation for why this happens is that any money you spend prosecuting the war are products that you never see returning value from. The money itself doesn't leave the economy, but the natural resources, and labor required, are expended non-productively (from the perspective of economic growth.) So, if you have a peacetime merchant, they're moving money around, but they're paying for their goods, and then those goods are going to consumers, who may also be contributing to economic activity with those goods (this even applies for food, you can think of that as a necessary component to any productive activity.) If you're a wartime merchant, selling weapons to the military, you are contributing to economic activity when you buy the weapons, but when they're sold to the crown, that's no longer productive. Those weapons leave the economy and never return. Worse, any soldiers who are permanently wounded, or killed, are also removed from the economy. Over time, this can destroy the most prosperous of nations. (To be clear, this is more advanced economic analysis than anyone in the middle ages would have had. So, the idea that wars are expensive was understood, but the exact reasons it slowed the economy were not.) And, this kind of thinking is another form of technological advancement. Ideas for understanding complex systems have become more intricate and detailed over time. While it's not the concept of, “invention,” that you might be used to, it is a similar form of progress.

So, how would this look in your world? There's a lot of potential consequences, most of which are not contradictory.

An impoverished lower-class is very likely. Whether that includes wounded veterans or not is a little more up in the air, though after 60 years, military pensioners, and those who suffered life-altering injuries on the battlefield are likely to be a common sight, either on the street or in the poverty line. (Especially if the crown is willing to enforce drafts and conscription.) At this point, that might be a very real possibility.

A struggling aristocracy is also likely, with former major power players who've declined into poverty. This might take the form of borderline abandoned estates that have been taken over by the crown or squatters. (Probably not both at the same time.)

Serious inflation is likely (and could be why formerly stable guild members, merchants, and even some of the aristocracy might now find themselves struggling.) I realize this point isn't something most really think of when you're trying to write a fantasy world, but it's worth considering. More likely this will be seen in food prices having increased over time. So the major symptoms you'd likely see would be decaying structures that no one has the resources to maintain, rising food prices, and generalized poverty. Even in a fairly magically advanced setting, a lot of these things would, likely, still happen. Of course, if the dragons have been used to destroy the agricultural base, things would be even worse in that nation. To be clear, food and taxation riots are not off the table there.

This is sort of a non-sequitur, but if you have a setting with classic transmutation (lead, or other base metals, into gold), you would actually see inflation with every batch of transmuted gold hitting the market. It's sort of an amusing note on the fantasy of being able to produce as much money as you want, but ultimately, it's actually harmful from a macroeconomic perspective. (Basically, the same reason counterfeiting is a problem.) Though, it is a possible hook for criminal groups in one of those nations, producing counterfeit gold via transmutation.

There's also a real world example from 2020, where a jewelry company had fabricated “fake,” gold bars as collateral to secure loans. In total, they claimed to have 83 tons of gold used to obtain loans worth over 2.8 billion dollars, from 14 different creditors. Except, when they defaulted on those loans, and were forced to hand over the gold, it was discovered that these were in fact gold plated copper bars.

I realize the question was about the flying forces specifically, but so long as that advantage is dealt with quickly, and neither side is able to monopolize air superiority, that's not going to change nearly as much as having that level of magical advancement would on its own, and of course, the general consequences of having a war that's been going on for long enough that multiple generations have died on the battlefield. That's going to a bigger effect on your world as a whole.

-Starke

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[hockeymenarehot]

Hii, this may sound a little weird but could you do a bill smut with blood kink? Maybe also overstimulation and edging, like make him a vampire or sum? Thank you if you do mwah <3

Bloody Mary feat. Bill Kaulitz

guess whos back! thank u sm for requesting! not weird at all ml, im always happy to make ur fantasies come true! <3 also with saltburn being popular rn it felt so fitting...

summary: i desperately wanted to make a good plot w/ this one, but this is honestly just straight porn w/ vampire Bill kaulitz...

!!warnings!!: dark content!!!, blood kink!!, depictions of blood, he drinks your blood, gonna say sort of dub-con b/c reader does agree but shes sort of in a trance, porn no plot, lots of oral sex (fem. receiving), fem. reader, edging, overstimulation, cum eating, reader passes out, territorial/primal bill, he has a tongue piercing, not proofread!!!, overall just nasty nasty filth LMAO

You think it's so stupid, the people in your new town seem to be so so scared of whatever (or whoever) is living in the castle upon to highest hill. It looks luxurious, and you chalk it up to being someone greedily keeping it for themselves. After all, there is absolutely no way vampires exist. And even if there is a vampire up there, you hoped it was at least a hot one. You were a brave bitch, so you walked up to that castle and banged on the door yourself.

Okay, so vampires are definitely real. And this one is definitely fuckin' hot. Well how could you not think he was hot? He currently had you bare and splayed out for him on his dark red sheets, the black walls of the room blocking out all light except the light radiating off his pale face. He was hovering over you, his black locks loose over his face. He was delicately running his open mouth over your skin, inhaling your sweet scent.

It all started when you entered his castle, his territory. As soon as you stepped foot in this place you also became his territory. Having been caged up in this place for decades, his body was overcome with an insatiable hunger as soon as his primal eyes met yours. You were swiftly brought up to his bedroom, leaving little time to chat. It was then you decided your next hours alive (or maybe not) were going to spent getting your brains fucked out by this vampire.

Your legs were folded back at the knees, your legs spread as he huffed in your scent. He trailed down your abdomen, stopping once he reached your clothed pussy. He inhaled with a sultry groan, shivering as he did so. It was then he looked up at you, locking eyes with you once more. "You want this, don't you? Stepping inside my territory like a little whore, you must want to slut yourself out for me, no?" You had in fact been pretty well covered when you stepped in, but you assumed his touch starved self didn't have the brain power to comprehend that. "Y-yes..." you whined. This felt so out of character for you, almost as if you had been put under some sort of hypnotic spell by his eyes. They felt like a portal to another dimension, one where only lust for him existed. He barely let you finished your stuttered word before he ripped your panties off, leaving your bare pussy exposed to his hungry eyes. You shivered at how he looked at your cunt like it was a meal, one he was getting ready to ravished.

And he did. Before you knew it, you were at the mercy of his relentless tongue, prodding into you and lapping at your clit. His fangs ever so often brushed against your sensitive folds, and you were reminded that at any moment he might actually take a bite out of you. This fact only seemed to make you leak even more, getting wetter by the second. He drank up your juices like they were the last drops of water he would ever receive. As you looked down at him you could see his heavily dilated pupils, staring into your eyes like he was a wolf devouring prey.

You tried to contain your moans, instead opting to whine and make choked out sounds ever once in a while. In the back of your almost-thoughtless head you were afraid that if you moaned for him, shamelessly letting your voice echo, he would mark you as his. And you weren't all sure what that would entail.

You could feel your orgasm impending by the way his nose would ever so often nudge onto your clit. As he used his tongue to reach deeper and deeper inside of your cunt, it was then you released his tongue piercing. The cold metal contrasting against the warmth of his tongue made you shudder, making it impossibly hard to contain your noises. His moans vibrated into your cunt, making your back arch off the sheets like a black cat, blending perfectly into the decor of his black & red room.

Right as you were about to cum all over his tongue, he swiftly pulled away. The loss of stimulation left you a whining mess. It was then you made the dire mistake of biting deeper into your lip to contain your noises, breaking the skin and letting small drops of blood flood down your chin. He had no self control to hold back as he leapt for your chin, licking up the blood that left your lip with only the tip of his tongue before sucking onto your bottom lip. You could feel his length grow against your stomach, and you blushed madly at feeling him get turned on at the sight of your blood.

He let out a small breathy chuckle "Did you honestly think I would let you cum? After you contained your noises? The noises that belong to me?" You finally let out a moan at his words "Please!" You weren't exactly sure what you were begging for, but all of your senses were being overwhelmed. It truly felt as if you were in a trance as you stared up at the glittering ceiling of the bedroom. "Please what? You want more?" He mocked as he ran his tongue down your jaw, laughing slightly at your desperation. You nodded your head frantically, wanting to feel more of him. "If that's what you want, say my name. Let everyone know who's making you feel good." You looked at him with blown eyes, awaiting him to reveal his name to you. "Bill," You didn't hesitate to scream out his name as he dove back into your pussy.

Your cunt was aching, your thighs begging to close in around his head at the merciless pleasure you were receiving. The room was filled with your mewls bouncing off the walls, echoing into Bill's ears and fueling his lust. Your noises drove him to work your poor pussy harder, adding fingers into your hole as he toying with your clit using his tongue. Your hands reached down to his scalp to pull at his hair.

"M-ah!" The pleasure you were receiving was almost unbearable, his long fingers pressing just the right spots within you. You were once more teetering towards the edge of bliss, you pussy clenching around his fingers. It's only taken him the time since you entered his castle to learn you like the back of his hand, memorizing the inside of your cunt with his fingers and the sounds of your moans with his ears. Your cunt was puffy and pulsing with desire, and you let out a moan of his name. "Bill! Gonna cum-!"

Right as those words left your mouth he pulled away again, leaving you a sobbing mess. He payed no mind to you, merely admiring his work of your glistening folds. He inhaled your scent as you wept at the loss of another orgasm, tears streaming down your cheeks. He ran his nose against your thigh, inhaling your scent once again.

His cock was hard, impossibly hard. It was aching at your scent, and your sweet noises weren't helping his situation. He decided to indulge in a little pleasure for himself, smelling of your inner thighs until he picked up on a scent he desired. He blocked out your cries and pleas as he sunk his fangs down into the plush of your thigh, drawing blood to the air before sucking it back in with his mouth. You screamed with pleasure filled pain as he moaned against your thigh. He sucked at your thigh some more before rubbing the flat part of his tongue against it, moaning out once more before releasing his load onto the sheets. Your mind was too hazy and under a hypnotic-like state to register much of another besides the feeling of his tongue, the pleasure it brought, and the pain.

You chanted out his name "Bill, Bill, Bill," anything at all to try and get him to give more attention to your aching core. Once Bill had finished releasing and pleasuring himself, he decided you had been good enough and deserved some pleasure of your own. Most women he had tried this with had screamed with agony, doing anything at all to get away from him. His sharp teeth just weren't for them.

"Good fucking girl" He spoke out in a low, groggy tone. He focused his eyes onto your cunt again, before attacking it with his mouth again. He slurped up your juices before bringing his fingers up to pump in and our of you at a brutal pace, his mouth latching onto your clit and sucking on it. You screamed out his name, egging him on. You used your hands to claw at his sheets, the pleasure being brought by his tongue completely encompassing you. He made sure you felt completely owned by him, totally below him. He had decided that if cumming around his tongue is what you wanted, you would get just that and more. Who was he to leave you unsatisfied when you had been so good for him?

Your legs were trembling, completely at his mercy as you felt your orgasm building up yet another time. This time it felt much faster, the heat in your core heating up your entire body. His fingers were hitting ever spot in you just right, and your entire body was succumbing to pleasurable pain as you sprayed all over his face, your back arching impossibly higher. Your back ached and your entire body shook with the intensity of your delayed orgasm.

You were moaning choked out screams as Bill didn't lessen his brutal, inhumane pace into your cunt. It was almost as if your noises and squirt only made him want to go faster. No human would be able to move their fingers in and out of you at the pace he was. Your eyes looked up at the ceiling, dots invading your vision. You felt like at any moment you might pass out as you released against him once more. He hungrily lapped up all you had to offer, groans bouncing off against your folds. His hands came up to press against your waist as you continued to moan, and he only continued to get faster. "T-too much! Slower!" You were barely able to form those simple words, your mind turned to mush as the lines blurred between your orgasms, slowly being unable to tell when one started and one ended. The bliss and pain you were receiving were unbearable.

It seems he didn't take into account the fragile nature of the human mind and body, as you passed out. Collapsing from the overstimulation, your body fell against the plush comforter of his bed. He looked up at you to study your face, his lower face covered in blood from your thigh and slick from your spent pussy.

He crawled over you, hovering over your body taking in the scent of your sleeping form. He reached your face, huffing in your scent like it was a drug. He moved his nose down to your neck before latching onto it, a zap of electricity being sent down his spine as he did so. He left the signature dots against your neck, his eyes closing as he inhaled the smell of your blood, marking his territory.

"Mine."

a/n: sorry for the long break, been getting back into doing schoolwork.. i do hope this was to your liking! requests are being closed for now as im still trying to get caught up on them, but feel free to send in quick drabble ideas or just to chat! I love talking to u guys! <3

[rookiesbookies]

Monster AU

Thank you to @shotmrmiller for helping me idea generate for this

Hc under the cut for 141+ Konig, Krueger, Alex Keller, and Keegan

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!

General background for the AU:

When the blood of monsters was first found at ancient sites, the first thought the humans was: Can we bring them back. And when they couldnt, the second thought was: can we make ‘hybrid’ humans with the blood and will it give them special shit?

Long story short? It did. And so the race for the best and most monster/human soldiers was born

Some side effects were wanted. The speed, strength, the aggression, the dexterity.

Some side effects weren’t. Like the voices in the soldiers heads, the loss of life from incapability between a monster and a human, and the ruts, heat cycles, & craving to breed.

So the government hires what they call Operation: Darlings - a group dedicated to their monster infected lovers to keep them docile and content no matter what when they’re on base. Each given a year's supply of: military grade birth control, spermicidal lube, and condoms and one goal - be a monster's mate.

When wind of this got to other military companies, they did basically the exact same thing.

Price

Griffin. His beard now looks like furr now and less like hair. His muscles which were once covered in thin layers of fat, are now bare. The fat melted away. His wrinkles are now much lighter. His has more energy and is much less motion sick.

His eyes now have a predatory gaze. His nails are sharper like claws, and he’s much faster and more agile. His reflexes were much sharper.

With his darling he has the urge to scent her all the time. He loves nothing more than her warming his cock, his tight balls sitting on some chair as he rubs her hips while filling out paperwork. Cooing at how well she takes his fat cock.

His room is now full of pillows and blankets and baby proofy, he cant have his lionese accidentally getting hurt? Even if its just small bumps.

Soap

Phoenix. He now runs hot as an oven, everyone swears his skin glows, and he has this bad habit of insisting he needs random sticks. Every time he dies his injuries and infection turn to dust and fade off into the wind minutes to hours after and he walks away.

His nails are now just a bit more tough like talons and if he drinks alcohol or gas he can breathe fire.

He has this craving to sit in high place too, always has to have almost a perch to sit on above everyone.

When he gets his darling he has this urge to preen all the clothes she’s wearing off her like they’re dirt in her feathers. He makes little clicking noises at her and will fluff out his mohawk to get her attention, almost dying it red and orange and other bright colors because the phoenix voice demanded they had to be flamboyant and bright to truly keep a mate. Loves to rub his nose against her like a bird rubs its beak on things it loves, nuzzling into her especially if she’s nude.

He also craves nuts and seeds as a snack.

Ghost

Barghest. A bug black bad omen of death. Also has a skull face in some depictions. A big fuzzy stain in Yorkshire mythos. Simon immediately noticed how his hair on his head stayed its blond color but the rest of it (pubes, chest hair, happy trail) turned thicker and black as the night. In the dark he can see much better. He’s less sensitive to cold. And he craves raw meat.

For other physical differences he notices how his cock swells differently. His whole body leaned and slimmer. He runs faster, and endurance is significantly better.

He growls deep in his chest and uncontrollably when people try to touch his stuff. When he’s around his team he lets out a purr similar to that of a rottweiler.

He also notices he finds it harder to stay away during the day, as he prefers now to exist at night.

Gaz

Aswang. His teeth are now much sharper. His eyes now randomly bleed but not in a medical issue. His skin mow ashier than it normally would have been but that's fine. He’s more worried about the blood. His tongue is now long and snake-like, too long for his mouth and flat.

His body is leaner than before. Shoulders becoming broader. And his ears are slightly pointed. He’s also off put but his fingers got longer and his hands got stronger.

He hates how it’s voice hisses and whispers so loudly in the back of his mind. Never quiet.

Konig

Cthulhu. Of all his comrades who were chosen, he had some of the most physical change. Tendrils sprouted from his spine, his skin turned cold and the texture closer to a shark. His teeth all got a bit sharper, and his eyes became slightly better suited for seeing in the night. The worse his anxiety got the more tendrils littered his face and wings threatened to sprout from his back. The voice made the madness grow in his head, loud and ringing. His body was an impermeable surface. His fingers had grown a bit longer, more claw like. His voice got even more booming and he was always cold.

When he got his mate, his skin warmed. The voice of the monster that infected him calmed for the first few days. She didn't mind the odd texture of his skin or the tendrils that littered his body. She let her warmth seep through his body.

Krueger

Amarok. As seen in his tattoo on his back. He notices small things like thicker and darker hair on his body and the need to spend more time alone.

He notices his body get meatier, the muscles taking up more space. His hair is growing longer than he’d like, and much faster. He’s much stronger and much more durable, the usual overwhelming stain of the butt of a gun to the face now just a mild sting.

He growls from his throat when he is annoyed now, and is very off put by it because he never realizes when its happening. He has also grown a bit, not taller than Konig still but he is a least an inch and a half taller than he was. His arms now much wider and beefier, with a soft yet flattering layer on top.

He can now hear much better and he doesnt know if he likes it. If someone is fucking on base he can hear it all so now he has to constantly wear his shooting range headphones to hear how he did before the change.

Keegan

Minotaur. His body now gets too hot when under armor. He craves to suckle a tit like a calf and hide in darkness. His eyes are not adjusted well to the lights at all, he now has to constantly wear sunglasses. His nose is now a bit wet and leathery. His body now more easily builds muscle and the skin of his feet and hands thicker. His nails are stronger, like the human equivalent of hooves he guesses.

His breathing is now heavier, his body much heavier. He now stalks around instead of a natural walk. He craves meat, the monster wants him to consume human flesh but Keegan is satisfied with a steak.

Alex Keller

Hydra. He can grow back any lost limps and heal quickly. Only limp he cant grow back is the leg he already lost because he lost it pre-infection. Physically it changed very little, his eyes turn to slits in bright lights instead of small dots, he occasionally gets scales if his skin is extra dry, and he now had crazy sharp fangs for canines but not much changes.

He also hisses at threats and keeps building nests in dark places (his room with the lights off) with stolen blankets and pillows, pulling women into his room to show them hoping they compliment it as a sign of agreeing to mate.

When he gets his darling the little hydra voice in his head goes wild. She compliments the nest, doesn’t mind his painful love bites to stake claim, and most importantly doesn’t mind staying in the nest until the nest smells like her and she smells like him.

Also he has two dicks (human ones, not snakes), one on top of the other, upper one is slightly smaller.

[agentmarcuspike]

“t h e l o n g e s t n i g h t”

– a secret santa holiday fic for erin @perotovar ✧

pairing: marcus pike + nonbinary!reader synopsis: left alone in the big city during the longest night of the year, a stranger in a club makes you wish it were even longer. word count: 1.9k a/n: i was so fucking excited when i got you as my giftee, erin. i love everything you make, gifs and stories, and i've been wanting to give something back to you, so i’m grateful for this excuse/opportunity. wanted to post it on the actual solstice, but when i saw you were my secret santa too, i couldn’t wait lol. (a lil shoutout to @scenaaario as well, for being my secret informant.) love u, proud of u!

It's the winter solstice; the shortest day of the year.

But then again, it’s also the longest night.

All of your friends have already gotten on their trains and planes to celebrate the holidays with their families, leaving you to create your own traditions. Usually you’d get out of town as well, hole up somewhere the sky is clearer, the air lighter. Celebrate the return of the sun, the light, the new year, with a bonfire and candles to drive the dark away. From without, so within.

This year is different. A last minute opportunity presenting itself for your best friend; spending the holidays and New Years in Thailand with her Man of the Month, had left you in charge of house sitting, looking after her apartment and moody old cat.

So this year, on the darkest of the nights, unable to escape the city, you’re hoping to make the many hours pass as quickly as possible, the promise of lighter days the only thing you look forward to.

You’ve been staring at yourself in the club’s dirty bathroom mirror for far too long, impatient fists knocking on the door, and you yell at them to give you a second. Face sweaty, eyeliner smudged, eyes empty, you barely recognize yourself. The sheer black shirt you’re wearing is unbuttoned as far as it can be. With a last look at the person in the mirror, you straighten your septum piercing, and make your way out of the bathroom.

The heavy scent of spilled beer and sweaty bodies hit you as soon as you open the door. Thumping music, more bass than tune, tickles your eardrums, and you can feel the sound as waves of prickles on your skin. The soles of your boots stick to the greasy floor where you’re making your way across the room, squeezing through the crowd of people, who are all moving as one; a massive creature with many heads, twice as many arms, and a sole purpose with existence: To dance the night away.

It’s not possible to avoid touching people as you push through to get to the bar, so you try your best to be respectful with your hands, but as you place them carefully on a slim waist to push past, a zap runs through your arm, as if your finger were a fork and this body were electric. Five thousand Volts of static travel between you, and the body your hands quickly withdraw from must have felt it too, because he quickly turns to face you.

Looking down at you, his brows are raised, mirroring yours, mouth slightly agape. A different type of electricity runs through you as your eyes meet. It travels from your face, burning your cheeks, through your throat, removing every trace of moisture on its way to your stomach, where it does a loop, and ends as a throbbing pressure between your legs.

In the short moments of flashing lights, you can make out his features. High cheekbones shadowing his clean shaven face. Slightly crooked nose and sharp jawline. Kind eyes, crinkling at the corners, softening it all out.

You can’t hear him, but his shoulders shake as he laughs, and you laugh too, looking away nervously. He brings your attention back to him when he leans down, mouth to your ear.

“I’d shake your hand, but I’m worried you’ll shock me again.”

His voice is surprisingly deep, but not booming. It has a comforting, gentle glee to it, and his breath tickles the sensitive skin around your ear.

“I’m Marcus,” he finishes before pulling away far enough to look at your face again.

Staring at each other, you can only giggle. You lick your lips before leaning in, lips brushing the shell of his ear as someone bumps into you, pushing you closer. With a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, you tell him your name.

“And you shocked me!” you accuse.

“Why would I do that?!” Marcus yells, hand on his chest in mock offense.

Something about him has you grinning, your mouth dry, upper lip sticking briefly to your exposed teeth as you close your mouth. He’s funny, he’s cute. You wanna buy him a drink.

Your platform shoes give you some extra height, but you still have to stand on your toes to reach his ear when he stands up tall.

“Thirsty?” you ask, supporting yourself with a hand on his bicep.

“Parched.”

“Drink?”

“Yeah.”

Your hand glides from his upper arm, across his warm skin, feeling the nerves in his forearm flex under your fingers. When your hand reaches his, you squeeze it once before taking the lead, creating a path and guiding you both through the crowd towards the bar.

The music is quieter there, muffled by a thin wall dividing the bar area from the dance floor. You can no longer feel the booming bass in your body, but the way your heart is beating it might as well have slipped inside of you, bruising the inside of your chest bone with insistent thumps, begging to be let back out again.

Marcus leans on the bar bench, and you do the same. Or, at least you try to. Your height makes you feel more like a child being allowed to order hot chocolate by themself for the first time, face peeking over the bar like a meerkat. He must see it too, because he shoves you playfully.

“Wanna sit on my shoulders so you can see?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah. Heard it all before.”

He turns towards you, looking down at your shoes.

“I mean, even with the platforms…”

“Okay, mister, we’re both well aware of how much I need a couple of inches.”

Your accidental innuendo catches him off guard, and he just stares at you for a second.

“No, wait–” you begin.

“Wow!”

“I didn’t– That wasn’t what I–”

But it’s too late, you’re already blushing, burying your face in your hands as you groan.

Marcus just laughs, patting your back with a soft, gentle hand.

“All good, don’t worry. How about we start with two fingers?”

It’s your turn to be speechless. Not sure whether to be impressed or offended by his abrasiveness, you look back up towards him, but he’s not looking at you. You follow his gaze to the bartender, who’s busy filling two glasses with… two fingers of whiskey.

Marcus accepts the glasses from the bartender, and hands you one with a satisfied smirk.

“It’s gonna be a long night if you keep this up,” you murmur, shaking your head playfully as you smile into the glass.

“I’ll drink to that,” Marcus grins back, finishing his drink in one go.

He looks at you expectantly, and with a grimace you down your own, before you let him grab you by the hand and pull you back towards the dance floor.

Marcus’ hands softly grip your waist as you move to the music. He gracefully guards you, quickly and easily twirling you out of the way whenever someone grinds too close. Your own hands rest on his broad shoulders, one of them moving slowly to the back of his neck, your thumb drawing small circles over the soft skin behind his ear.

He closes his eyes, leaning to rest his forehead against yours, and you swear you can feel the vibrations of him purring through his chest.

You’re no longer following the music, your bodies swaying to the steady pulse of your own hearts, which are beating in unison, a tango for just the two of you.

Marcus’ dark eyes flutter open, so close you can barely focus. His nose brushes yours as he leans in all the way, connecting his lips with yours. Soft at first, mouths closed, firmly pressed against each other. With your hands on his neck, you pull him down towards you, closer, closer, closer, and his hands on your waist grip you tighter.

He breaks away, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as he moves to your neck, where he presses open mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin, sucking lightly. A shiver runs through you, leaving goosebumps from your tailbone to the very top of your head. You turn towards him, seeking his mouth with your own.

This time you part your lips to invite him in, poking your tongue out ever so slightly. He accepts your invitation, feeding you his tongue back, the residue of whiskey coating it burning deliciously. It’s soft, your mouths working together instead of fighting for dominance, but it quickly grows more needy, two sets of hands grabbing and pulling, searching for something to hold onto.

Your hands settle on his lower back, finding the waistband of his pants, hooking your fingers in his belt hoops. With a quick tug, you pull his hips flush with yours, and he gasps into your mouth. He pulls away, just far enough to look into your eyes properly. A question between you, pulled tight like a rubberband. Requesting permission to move further. You nod at him once, giving him the green light, and the rubberband snaps as his lips once again connect with yours.

And he indulges. His hands travel to rest at your lower back, before sliding down to cup your ass, squeezing once. You catch yourself wishing, for the first time in your life, that you’d worn a skirt, so you could have felt his big hands against your skin. The cramped mass of people dancing around you are oblivious to your endeavor, only bumping into you every now and then, but Marcus doesn’t let you budge an inch, holding you tight, a hand on your ass and one arm sneaking around your back, holding onto your waist.

Your thumbs find the sliver of skin between his waistband and his shirt. With slow movements, in contrast to the quick blinking of lights seeping through your eyelids, you draw tiny circles on the soft skin of his narrow waist. One of his hands moves back to your face, thumb resting against your lower lip as he delicately pulls on it with his teeth, soothing the sting with his tongue immediately. You wish he’d have bitten harder, drawn blood. That he’d taste you, mix the fluid from your veins with the ones of his mouth. Swallow you.

He thrusts against you once, seeking friction, hard and impatient underneath his clothes. Had he shoved his hands down yours, he would have found you dripping as well; so slick and ready to take him. But all you can do with the crowd of people moving around you is hold on tight, and hope for an opening, however small, between atoms, letting your bodies move inside each other, the way his tongue does in your mouth, and your hand, secretly between your bodies, gently covering his protruding bulge.

You squeeze him gently, and you can feel his lashes flutter against your nose as he rests his forehead against yours, his mouth open in a silent moan.

The dance floor doesn’t exist anymore. It’s just the two of you now. Two hungry bodies, two lonely souls. You hear no more music, ears filled only with the sound of rushing blood. All you can taste is whiskey, and all you can see is him. You catch yourself wishing that this night, the longest one of the year, would last just a little while longer.

— happy holidays !!! x

[pollenallergie]

Perks of Being a Dad

AN: Eddie Munson is a sensitive guy, an amazing dad, and also a scheming lil genius. In other words, Eddie cons his goobers into giving him some extra special affections one Sunday morning. Thank you so, so much to @sw34terw34ther for helping me name Eddie's youngest and for beta-reading this for me! <3

Word Count: 1.9k

CW: Brief mentions of the reader being pregnant in the past (though their gender identity is never stated). Also, the reader is mentioned but isn't actually present in the fic. It's not really implied/stated that Eddie is a rockstar in this fic, but it is part of my dad!rockstar! Eddie AU.

Eddie’s a sensitive person, and not just in the emotional sense. When he was younger, he was hypersensitive to just about everything; sensory overload was frequent for Eddie as a kid. However, he mostly grew out of that, no longer being quite as picky about tastes, scents, sounds, or visuals, though he is still slightly more particular than the average person. Nevertheless, one acuity he’s never truly outgrown is his tactile sensitivity. For as long as he can remember, Eddie’s always been picky about certain textures and when and how people touch him. Of course, now that he’s older, he’s a bit less finicky about those things. Even so, Eddie still loathes the feeling of crushed velvet and has to stifle a gag every time he removes the little cotton ball from a brand-new bottle of medicine. Likewise, Eddie has also maintained his sensitivity to other people’s touch. 

In 1987, when you two first met at one of his gigs, you had cradled his forearm in your hands so that you could write the digits of your phone number on his alabaster, freckled skin. Though your touch was so light that it was barely there, it’d caused every little nerve under his skin to shoot off like fireworks, making a warm, fuzzy feeling spread all over his body. As romantic as that sounds, that sort of sensation wasn’t necessarily exclusive to your touch. 

One time, Mr. Rothering, his former algebra teacher and the bane of his existence during his sophomore year, accidentally brushed up against a fifteen-year-old Eddie Munson as he waded through the aisles of desks to hand back their most recent tests and, even though Eddie was in no way attracted to that sneering son of a bitch, his nerves had gone into a frenzy in much the same way they had when you’d first made contact with him several years later. Although, in that case, the feeling was much less intense than it had been with you; Eddie reasons that Mr. Rothering’s vile aura most likely dulled it. 

As a father, Eddie is still subjected to this sensation, even when the touch that triggers it comes from the hands of his sweet babies, Marley, Jude, and Rowan. Granted, his familiarity with them has conditioned him to the resulting sensation, but it still occurs all the same. However, in the case of his little tadpoles (something he’s called his kids ever since the twins were mere embryos growing in your womb), his pure adoration for them gives that odd, fuzzy feeling a warm, wholesome, serene edge to it, so much so that it calms his mind and his body. Eddie luxuriates in the affections — or, as they’re often referred to in the Munson household, ‘sugars’ — that his little goobers give him. Eddie loves it all, from their clumsy hugs to their warm snuggles, even their slobbery kisses and ornery play-wrestling.

Nevertheless, Eddie’s love for his precious little loves and their magical sugars isn’t enough to fill the void of your touch and the divine sensations it brings, something he’s been without for a grueling twenty-four hours since you left yesterday morning for a work trip. Eddie’s been yearning for your affection from the moment he dropped you off at the airport. Today, he’s specifically craving one of your life-altering, all-powerful back rubs, which Eddie swears can cure even the sourest of moods in mere minutes. He misses the gentle caress of your fingertips and the incomparably blissful sensations they leave in their wake. This constant yearning for a relaxing back rub, combined with the knowledge that the twins have recently been learning to draw shapes at daycare, gives Eddie a brilliant idea on this wonderfully lazy Sunday morning. 

Eddie lounges on the couch watching cartoons, shirtless and sporting the Star Wars-themed pajama pants Wayne gifted him last Christmas. The twins are snuggled up on either side of him while little Ro is reclining in his lap, all three still in their jammies, sporting coordinating, but not perfectly matching, sets of nautical-themed jammies you’d gotten from Gymboree. Suddenly, Eddie heaves a dramatic yawn, snuggles his kids closer, and gently traces his calloused fingertips up and down one of each of the twins’ short, chubby arms, buttering them up with some sugars of his own. Jude, his snugglebug, almost immediately responds to these sugars with a pleasant little coo, conveying his happiness. However, Marley and Rowan are too far gone; the elder sister is too enthralled in Tom and Jerry’s reruns to notice her dad doting on her while the younger sister is happily snoozing away in Eddie’s lap. Armed with the knowledge that he has at least one of his kids’ attention, Eddie decides to strike while the iron is hot. 

“Daddy’s tired,” Eddie remarks lazily. It’s the same warning he always offers his little ones just before dozing off for a nap. 

Upon noticing Jude’s subtle pout, he nearly loses his composure and abandons his covert mission entirely. Eddie powers through, though, not wanting to give up on the brilliant plan he’s concocted. He decides to focus on Jude, knowing that if he succeeds in roping his baby boy into his not-so-devious scheme, his little ladies will surely follow. 

“Tell you what, Joodlebug, how about I lay down on my tummy and you, my sweet boy,” Eddie pauses to boop his son’s little nose quickly, simply because he can’t resist, before continuing, “practice drawing your shapes on my back? Huh? How’s that sound?” 

Jude’s brow furrows adorably before he looks up at his dad with bright doe eyes. “Markers?” The tiny tot inquires, getting tripped up on the r’s as he does so. 

“No, bear,” Eddie gently grabs one of Jude’s little hands and taps the tip of his tiny index finger with his own, “use these. Just pretend like you’re actually drawing on me, ’kay? Sorta like those finger paintings you do at daycare, but without the paint,” he explains, chuckling softly when Jude responds with a rough nod. His son’s a very passionate little boy; Judah Bear Munson gives his all to every single thing he does, even if it’s just a simple nod of his head. 

“We got a deal, Bubba?” Eddie asks. 

Jude offers his confirmation in the form of another adorably curt nod paired with his beautiful, toothy grin. 

“Atta boy,” Eddie praises his son before gently removing the littlest of his tadpoles from his lap, carefully placing his tiny Rowboat on the couch next to her brother so as not to rouse her from sleep. He then theatrically slides off the couch and onto the floor, causing his little prince to erupt into a fit of giggles. 

Jude’s high-pitched giggles catch his baby sister’s attention, rousing the little 18-month-old girl from sleep. Rowan then calls out in a concerned, whiny tone, “Dada?” 

So much for not rousing Ro, Eddie thinks. 

“Just laying down, Ro-Bird,” he reassures his baby girl, “wanna be the bestest helper ever and toss me a pillow?” 

Rowan wordlessly responds by grabbing a throw pillow from next to her on the couch and harshly, though not maliciously, chucking it at her dad; she’s still at that funny little age where she doesn’t quite realize her own strength. Eddie miraculously catches it just before it hits him in the face and gruffs out a sarcastic, “Thanks, babe.” 

Seeing a pillow suddenly flying by her in her peripherals is enough to finally draw Marley’s focus away from the cartoon cat and mouse on the TV screen. The little three-year-old watches as her dad gets situated on the floor, rolling over to lay on his belly as he rests his head atop his crossed arms on the small pillow. Eddie then turns and looks up at his baby boy, the spitting image of himself, offering him a beaming grin. 

“Ready, Jude?” Eddie asks, prompting the little boy to nod before gracelessly flopping down onto the shag carpet beside his dad. A relaxed sigh leaves Eddie as his son begins to delicately trace shapes on his back. It’s soon accompanied by a victorious, smug grin when Marley finally pipes up and asks, “Ca’i help, daddy?” What’s meant to be ‘can I’ comes out sounding more like ‘kai,’ and that makes Eddie’s heart melt into a puddle of sticky, saccharine syrup. 

“Yeah, Mars, show me watcha got,” Eddie responds. Soon two tiny pointer fingers are drawing on his back, one from each twin. While Marley sticks to abstractly filling the expanse of his back with invisible shapes, Jude, his little artist, takes to connecting the various moles and freckles on Eddie’s back with invisible lines, forming secret constellations on his alabaster skin. 

“You guys are doing really good,” Eddie murmurs encouragingly as his eyes drowsily flutter shut. 

“Dada?” His littlest love calls out to him from the couch. 

Eddie struggles to open his eyes but somehow manages before turning his head to look up at his youngest daughter, who looks identical to you, making her your little mini-me. “Yeah, birdie?” He asks softly. 

“Snuggles?” She asks, her tone sleepy and needy. Rowan may look exactly like you, but she’s a daddy’s girl through and through. 

“Of course, babe. C’mere,” Eddie beckons her to his side with a wave of his arm, “Come snuggle with daddy, Rowboat.” 

Rowan giggles adorably at her dad’s silly nickname for her as she climbs off the couch all by herself — a big feat for someone with such short little legs — and waddles over to her dad. Eddie lifts one arm for her, and she plops down beside him, lying down and nuzzling up against his side. He wraps that same arm around his little nestling, cradling Rowan’s warm little body close to his own as she lays on her side with her back pressed against the side of his torso so that she can watch the TV as she cuddles with her dad. 

Right now, Eddie’s on Cloud 9, loving being so close to his little tadpoles, with Tad 1 and Tad 2 (his nicknames for the twins while they were in the womb) giving him a makeshift version of a back rub with their tiny little, chubby fingers, while Tad 3 snuggles up close to him. Fuck what his past teachers always said because, in this moment, Eddie thinks he’s a goddamn genius. Eddie lets out a quiet, blissful sigh as the serene, comforting sensation floods his body, settling underneath his skin and warming him from head to toe. Perks of being a dad, he thinks. 

For the rest of the morning, or at least for as long as he can hold his little tads’ attention, Eddie luxuriates in his toddler massage and all the sensation it brings. At the same time, he snuggles with his littlest baby, his little Rosie Ro, who has swiftly fallen asleep in his arms. All the while, he listens to his two little chatterboxes discuss anything and everything that comes to their brilliant little minds; the sounds of Rowan’s snores and the cartoons on the TV act as soothing background noise to the twins’ vivid conversation. To Eddie, moments like these are heaven on earth. Eddie wouldn’t trade these wholesome moments for anything, not even an opportunity for Corroded Coffin to headline their own show at Madison Square Garden. Even his biggest rockstar dreams can’t compete with the love that fatherhood has brought him. Yeah, Eddie thinks, nothing compares to this. 

[omegapheromone]

Ok so, between the recent psa about miscecanis scent and reblog of the incels of omegaverse, I can’t stop thinking about how the two would correlate in a verse.

Like, “Chad alphas” could say you need to go buck wild on the Axe so other alphas know what’s “your property” (which becomes yet another omega-repellent because of scent sensitivity). Or even the opposite, where they don’t use anything, like no hygiene At All, because “omegas like the musk” but they just??? Smell like BO?????

But that’s not to say omegas/betas are exempt from this!!!!!! You’re telling me you don’t think some omega incels wouldn’t over-scent all of their bags and shit to like, “allure people in the halls”, but it’s just a Lot and it’s Everywhere. Or even an insecure beta who’s like “can anyone even smell me?????” And it’s like, Yes Buddy, I Promise You We Did Before And Can’t Stop Now

Also just????? The role of actual perfumes in omegaverse. I’m sure they’d exist for so many reasons, but I just wonder like, how they’d be marketed or even placed. Because you’re supposed to place perfume right where scent glands would be normally so I feel like people have a Problem with that while for others that’s The Point, you know?

Idk this just became a ramble. Any thoughts/insights are appreciated :’D

Chai your mind...... this is so good

Niceguy McFedora-type alpha that showers once a month because they think it's unnecessary because your "natural scent" is supposed to be strong to show the "weak and fragile omegas" what a strong and ~healthy~ alpha that will Definitely Treat Them Well you are. (He always has a personal space radius of at least 5 meters or more and doesn't connect the dots)

Or the *ndrewwww t*te type alphas making a point to go to the gym and Not Shower every time they go anywhere in public as some sort of a ridiculous show of dominance and thinking the nasty looks they get from people is because other alphas are feeling insecure and Betas are envious, obviously the Omegas are just pretending to hate it but actually they're all going into heat right now all because of his ~mUsKy AlPhA sCeNt~ (no sir, I know you live in delusion about owning a porsche but this is public transit and your stink is making everyone gag in disgust)

The desperate yet insecure folk of any gender and dynamic buying ridiculously expensive perfumes modelled after celebrities' natural scents (like that one headcanon post) because they think the scent is what made the celebrity famous/desirable/attractive and so if they smell like them then maybe they will also get courted...

And man I'd feel a little bad for the betas thinking they have no desirable scent and trying to "make up for it" because of how much importance society places on alpha&omega scents (that tend to be slightly stronger, sure, but It's not like betas don't have scents!!) And how little betas are talked about in the context of pheromones/scent

Also YEAH on the perfume thing!!!

My own headcanon sort of separates scents into their own cathegories of like, there's the natural scent that's associated with pheromones, it's not the same as body odour from sweat, but also the pheromones are slightly different/separate in that pheromones can affect the qualities of the scent but not the actual scent itself? And then there's obviously body odour, and then on top of that, I think perfumes are often used to either mask or even enchance one's own scent. They'd probably be especially affirming for any transdynamic folks! But also I can imagine some people feeling like their natural scent should be sort of "private" or they just don't want people to pay attention to it, esp if it's very unique? so they'll use fragrances to change it somewhat. Also for people with weaker scents, it could be an insecurity so they'll use perfume to feel more confident?

Oh and I wanna talk more about my headcanon about the pheromone-natural scent relationship! I think pheromones are what cause and are affected by emotional responses, almost like having a sort of... "aura" or "energy" people can read? But pheromones so it's an actual thing. but I also imagine it could affect the actual scent a lot too! I'll use my own peony+peach combo to explain since I know it best, but for example, if I was angry or annoyed, the pheromones would probably make the scent appear slightly "sour", like a sour candy or a flower that's slightly past its best bloom but still emits a really strong scent that starts to smell almost a little "stinging"? Or if I was really content and happy, it'd be like freshly-bloomed peopny blossoms and sweet, perfectly ripe peaches.

Probably in heat the scent would turn more "warm" and "heated" as well as stronger, too, like sitting in a garden of peonies eating a peach dessert during a heatwave in the summer? (Also I just like using that analogy for my own scent a lot. Sitting in a Peony garden and eating peaches. Except in heat it'd be more like a heatwave and much stronger/warmer) Like almost a little overwhelming, but not necessarily in the same way that overusing axe body spray is overwhelming, more like... a heat-scent becomes sort of really thick and warm? And that's why it's so noticeable? Like so ripe it would be "tempting" or something, idk.

For example if someone's scent was "pine forest", and they went into rut, I imagine it'd also increase in intensity a lot. Like... maybe the scent of pine sap really intensifies and gets really "thick"? Or maybe it'd be like... if it rains during a heatwave so the smell is extra strong but also really warm. And maybe someone with a scent like that would smell more like a cold winter forest when they're irritated (which would also be a wonderful way to describe personality through scent- people whose scents turn "cold" and "wintery" being more likely to have that sort of stoic, cold anger than the more explosive hot-headed type bursts of anger...) and when they're content, it'd be like a camping trip in good weather somewhere deep in the woods where you feel safe and relaxed in nature?

Idk man I just like thinking about scents and how scents change based on pheromones & emotions........

I also think perfume could be used to permanently amplify some aspects of specific emotional states in scent. I imagine customer service workers or salespeople using a perfume that maybe doesn't change their scent, but makes them always smell really happy, inviting and nice for better sales results and a better customer experience (especially since I imagine customer service is probably still absolute hell, even in omegaverse... not like they'd actually be feeling very happy to deal with some Karens all day)

Or for people who want others to stay out of their way (bouncers, gangsters, idfk depends on the canon I imagine), they'd maybe use a perfume that makes their own scent always appear a little aggressive/stern, not in the challenging kind of way, but just so people get the idea that it's probably better not to mess with them

But also certain professions having bans on those kinds of things, or even requiring full on scent blockers to be used (especially prevalent in the medical field I imagine)... just. Yeah lots of thoughts on this!

[sirowsky-stories]

The Old Prince

Part 7

Author's Note: This is nice and cozy at first, but do not be fooled. Here there be monsters... Also, I'll be working on my follower celebration for a while now, which is why I'm so sorry for how this part ends.

Description: Oberyn tells you what he can remember of his human life and how he became what he is. But tranquility is sparse in your lives, and as has become custom, you're soon in trouble once more.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, AU fic, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses. Descriptions of the death of a child, as well as people being violently murdered. Angst. Reader experiences shock. Word Count: 5865 Author's Masterlist

   He doesn’t need nearly as much sleep as humans do, so even after the exhaustion of three releases and a total of two and a half hours of lovemaking, Oberyn remains wide awake. Calm and pleasantly satisfied, with a harmony in his blood that knows no equal, but still not tired in the sense that he requires sleep to recover.    So instead, he watches you. And stars above… what a sight you are.

   Heavy with total relaxation, without a single crease of worry, tension or stress to your expression, you look only peaceful. Peaceful in the most precious of ways, a feeling born from the knowledge that you are safe, trusted and loved.    He is proud to be the one to give you this serenity, but also immeasurably grateful that you have chosen to trust him with your heart, because he knows how closely you have always guarded it from others.

   It has fascinated him from the start, the nearly immediate trust you had showed towards him, and he wonders sometimes if there could be a deeper truth behind it. If perhaps the transformation that he triggered in you was always there, just waiting for him to initiate it.    Such a thing would suggest that the two of you are linked by much more than circumstance or coincidence. That you were always destined to cross paths in this manner. Which is a both comforting and endlessly frightening thought.

   Because it would mean that the cosmos has a path laid out for you and that nothing you do will be of your own volition. That even this night was not a choice for each of you to make, but rather a compulsion, entirely beyond your conscious perception.    He refuses to believe that anything could have such influence over you. Over him, certainly, but not you.

   There is a power to your being which cannot be seen or even sensed, merely perceived at the very fringes of perception. A whisper carried across the globe by a million different voices since the day you were born, so scattered and distorted by now that it can no longer be heard, other than by the most sensitive instruments of the ether: the soul.    Barely even there, and yet he does not doubt its existence for a moment.

   The hours pass with ease, even though you do not move or even twitch in your sleep, so satiated that every muscle has succumbed to the depths of unconsciousness.    Resting on your belly with your lower arms hidden underneath the pillow, and your head turned to the man beside you. Nothing but your eyes moving underneath your heavy lids indicates that you are merely asleep.    At least, not to a human’s senses.

   Oberyn, however, can also hear your heart beating and the steady flow of your slow and tranquil breaths. He can smell the dried sweat on your skin and even the mild, musky scent of your earlier arousal.    And like everything to do with you, these smells are incredibly pleasant to him, in a way that nothing has been in the past.

   It’s not like he has never before smelled the tantalizing aroma of a person’s desire, but to his sensitive nostrils, those scents have always seemed exaggerated and almost overpowering sometimes.    Not yours though. Thus far, every smell or taste he has detected from you has only increased his affection for you, as if your very chemistry appeals to him. And perhaps that is exactly what it does. Perhaps your bodies truly do complement one another.

   In any case, what is certain is that you have become integral to his very survival.    He may not have aged much in his many years, but he is not incapable of dying. The dragon is nearly indestructible, but the human form is weaker. He heals quickly, but a severed limb would not grow back, for instance, so if one were to cut his head from his shoulders, he would die.

   There have been many occasions in his six millennia on this Earth when he has come close to the jaws of death. But for all his episodes of depression, when the endless toils of eternal life have left him unwilling to fight for even one more day, he has never truly wanted to end his own existence.    The thoughts have been there, loud and hounding at times, but more often like a growling dog in the corner of the room, as though waiting to rip his throat out. Yet it never has.

   Somehow, his life has retained a sliver of value to him, despite the many horrors he has witnessed, and been responsible for, and now that he sees you beside him, he cannot help but think that you have always been that value. That some part of him has been waiting for you, knowing that you would come to exist and that if he just held on for long enough, he would be rewarded with finding you.

   It is well after sunrise that you finally stir, twisting your head around and then slowly pulling your arms out from under the pillow, so that you can turn on your side.    You don’t appear to be aware that you’re moving, and your body is clearly terribly sluggish and unwilling to leave the restful softness of the bed, so he shifts himself closer and helps you finish the movement, before he settles in behind you, molding his body after your contours.

   And when you sigh and lean into him as though it is the most natural and obvious thing to do, as though something you have done a thousand times before and now come to out of habit and familiarity, he cannot help how his embrace tightens as his body responds, not with lust, but with unfathomable awe.    That you can be so at ease with such a creature as him, to let you rest beside him without fear or discomfort, even though his touch is largely new to you. Even though you have not slept beside another living being in years.

   Another hour passes before you begin to wake, and as you do, you reach for his hand which rests over your waist, pulling it up to your mouth for a few light kisses of your dry lips.

   “What time is it?” you ask, and your voice is raspy from the many hours that have passed since you last used it, and the fresh memory of your wordless vocalizations as he had found your most delicious spots of pleasure, fill his ears while he replies.

   “Almost lunchtime.”

   “Ugh…” you groan, and then start shifting to your back so that you can see him. “I don’t even know what time I fell asleep last night… or was it this morning?”

   You can barely keep your eyes open, but it seems less to do with fatigue and more like you are simply too comfortable to want to return fully to the waking world.

   “It was around 2 am,” he recalls, and you frown.

   “Haven’t you slept at all?”

   “No. The dragon and I are in some ways quite separate, but we are also one and the same, which is why I have his strength and the potency of his senses, even in this form.”

   “So, the dragon doesn’t need sleep?”

   “Not nearly as much. I can stay awake for several months if the need arises, but generally, I’ll sleep around four hours in a fortnight,” he explains, to which you grow silent for a minute.

   “You talk about it like it’s a separate being. Is that how it feels?” you ask then, seemingly curious while also apprehensive regarding his alter ego, no doubt because of the discomfort he has displayed each time you’ve asked about his past before.

   “In a way, yes. When I transform, it’s not simply my body that changes, it’s everything else as well. From my emotions to my thought-process and even my basic instincts.    It took me centuries to learn how to not let him out at every spike in emotion, and then even longer to figure out how to retain rational thought and control those same emotions, in order to prevent massacring people everywhere I went.”

   “Right, you’ve mentioned before that you were born human. So, what happened? Were you bitten by something as well?” you question, clearly looking for common ground and answers about your own transformation.

   Unfortunately, he still doesn’t have those answers, because his own experience was entirely different.

   “No. I don’t remember the details, and I believe that this is by design, but I know that whatever happened, it was done to me by someone or something much more powerful than anything walking this Earth today.”

   “What do you mean?”

   “Call it a god or supernatural being, but whatever it was, it vanished after doing this to me,” he says, and you look only more perplexed.

   He has not spoken of these things with anyone else before, because there has never been reason to, nor has he ever had cause to think that anyone would believe it.    But you deserve to know as much as he can remember, so that you may make up your own mind about what he is or isn’t anymore.

   “I have told you before that I can’t recall much of my human life beyond my mother’s face, and this is true. But I do remember a few things quite clearly.    For instance, that there was a conflict between our family and another tribe of people, whose origins I have forgotten but who were rich in numbers and therefor a considerable threat to the safety of the people under my family’s rule.    Whether we enraged them by attempting to force them into our ranks or if they attacked for their own reasons, I don’t know anymore, but the outcome was too devastating to forget,” he ponders, trying in vain to keep the terrible images away from his inner sight, as they always cause him such anguish.

   “There was a war?” you guess, and he nods while you shift around to your side, facing him, getting comfortable as you realize that he is willing to tell you everything now, which probably means a lengthier conversation.

   “Our peoples clashed so forcefully and with such rage that even after the battles were won, the losing army continued to be executed until none was left standing. There was so much blood in the sand that it remained red for months after each violent clash.    And the reason why I still remember this, even after my own family has been forgotten, is because as much as I might wish to, I will never forget what happened after our final victory.”

   This subject always tortures him, even to merely think of, let alone speak of out loud for the first time, so he pauses to check himself. To make sure that he is in control of his senses and not at risk of harming you.

   “Every time I hear a small baby crying,” he continues, unable to keep the unfathomable regret from filling his voice with pain, “I remember what was either my sister’s or brother’s newborn and how it cried when it was wrung from their arms and thrown on the floor to be stomped to death by the assassins who had infiltrated our home.    Defeated, they had decided to take their revenge upon our family, by means of blood and torture.    Thankfully, I cannot recall the imagery, only the sound. But that’s more than enough.”

   His pulse jumps as his heart reacts to the memory, and he pauses again.

   “I know that I was made to watch this, because that was where my rage was born. A rage that would become a companion of mine for the next two millennia. Because it was in that moment, when this helpless child was killed, that the desert turned from night into day in a single second. Not by sunlight… but by fire.    This I remember more clearly than anything else. How it erupted everywhere at once, as if drawn from the depths of the earth itself, covering our lands as far as the eye could see in every direction, even though there was nothing but blood-drenched sand to fuel it.    And once every living thing had turned to ash, somehow leaving me untouched even as I stood among the flames, they did not go out.    Instead, all that fire was drawn into me, making a home for itself within my chest, where it burned and stoked my anger, my rage, for what I now know to be at least five centuries.”

   “But… where did it come from? What conjured it?” you ask, teary-eyed even just hearing this, because your empathetic heart almost feels his pain and despair as if it was your own.

   “That I do not know. But as it flooded into me, I felt as though something else detached itself from it. Something vast and incredibly old. Millions of years, if I had to venture a guess.    It seemed to let go and fade away as the fire took hold of me, and the one theory I’ve managed to come up with, is that it was also a dragon.    Perhaps there can only be one of us at a time. It would explain why there are no others like me anywhere in the world.”

   You merely nod in agreement, at a loss for words, because what could anyone say to such a thing?

   “It took me five hundred years to bring the beast under control after the initial transformation, and in that time, I flew across the entire world, burning it everywhere I went. But this I know only because of the aftermath. I have no memory of that time at all.    When I finally managed to calm myself enough to return to my human form, which I had not yet realized that I could do until that moment, I was met by nothing but charred lands everywhere I went. And while I could not remember it, I knew in my heart that it was all my own doing.    The child’s screams, which still echoed through my being, now paled in comparison to the countless thousands that I had burned alive in my maddened state, and to this day, I don’t know why any of this has happened.”

   He must close his eyes again for a bit, not for fear of losing control now, but simply because the pain in his being is too overwhelming.    These words have never left his lips before. Never entrusted to another living soul, never even spoken aloud to the cold stones of the castle, which have surrounded him for hundreds of years now.

   You say nothing at first, content to merely rest beside him as he attempts to stomach the horrifying memories before locking them away once more. But when you do eventually speak, your voice is so soft and warm that he feels as though it must be a thick blanket, enveloping not just his person but his mind and heart as well.

   “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve suffered. But perhaps, if we do manage to figure out what’s happened to me, we might find some answers for you along the way as well.”

   “I hope so. But… I am also afraid to learn more,” he admits, and you frown again, so he elaborates. “That being, the one I felt within the flames, it was so old.”

   “And you’re worried that you’re gonna have to live that long as well?” you correctly deduce, to which he nods.

   “If I… replaced that being somehow… then whatever it was that kept it alive for that long is now inside of me. And I have no idea what it is, much less how to free myself of it.”

   He has cried countless times before, and often much more devastatingly than he does now. This time it’s a mere trickle of a few tears down the side of his face, brought out only by the fear of the unknown, rather than any real pain within him.    And yet, this time feels different. These tears feel purposeful in a way he has never experienced before. Perhaps merely because you are here, and he’s never cried in front of another person before, but it feels like it’s about something bigger than that.

   “I think that you are exactly what you’re supposed to be, Oberyn,” you say then, while gently wiping the wetness from his face. “And I think that I am too. Whether to darken the world or not, I think we’re both on the path we’re meant for.    I just hope that we get to choose how it ends.”

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   After a large brunch, the two of you return to the discussion about your transformation and everything that your partner knows about Darklings, and you end up learning about his bizarre realization that the pull coming from the basement has seemingly vanished.

   “See? I told you that it disappeared,” he says, sounding mildly surprised himself where he stands beside you in front of the basement door.

   “Yeah, and I believed you even before we got here, I’m just worried about the why.”

   “Indeed. Which is why I feel it’s necessary to investigate.”

   You have to swallow against the bile that rises in your throat at the mere thought of going back in there, but he’s right. The last time you’d stood here, you’d been practically enchanted, drawn inside despite all the warning signs along the way, from the smell to the sounds and finally the sight of those things.    But now, there’s nothing.

   Nodding to let him know that you agree, he opens the door, and you try to brace yourself for the odor, but it still hits you like a sledgehammer. It’s somehow even worse this time, probably because there’s nothing to dull your senses now.

   “Oh, god…” you breathe in between your body’s attempts to react to the assault on your olfactory functions. “Your senses are stronger than mine, how can you stand it?”

   “Sadly, this is not the worst thing I’ve ever smelled,” he replies nonchalantly before stepping inside.

   You pinch your nose shut with your fingers and then follow him, but it still feels like you’re just eating the disgusting scent instead.    He could’ve gone down here alone, but the creatures don’t react to him the way that they do to others, and he wants to gauge their reactions in full, so that he might be able to figure out what could’ve changed to stop them from emitting the pull.

   When you’d walked through this corridor before, it had felt much shorter than it does now, even though you’d walked much slower then. Which leaves you wondering just what the pull had done to your brain in those few minutes that you’d been under its influence.    You forget all about that, though, when you eventually round the corner at the end of the corridor and see the cages once more.

   “Oh, god…”

   This time it’s Oberyn who breathes the words, brought to a stop by the sight before him because this is so much worse than either of you could’ve imagined.    All the cages are empty.    No doors have been broken open, no holes have been dug through the concrete floor, and yet, they’re all gone.

   “It’s starting,” he says as he takes a few steps forward, slowly looking from one side to the other. “The darkness is already spreading.”

   “Wait, are you saying that… I did this?” you question, already trembling at the thought that it could be true.

   That you could’ve freed these monsters without even knowing it.    You’d felt their hunger when you’d met them. Their need to consume and destroy life. If this is somehow your fault…

   “Valya, listen to me,” he says, coming back to you and putting his hands around your upper arms when he sees you begin to spiral. “Whatever happened here, what matters is that we must find and stop these creatures.”

   “But if I freed them, if this fucking darkness inside of me can set them loose even from a prison, how can we hope to stop them?”

   “I don’t know, but we must try. That’s as much as we can do, my love.”

   He pulls you along, out of the basement and back to his room, where he asks you to get dressed for the cold weather outside.    But you don’t start right away. You need a minute. Just a few moments to think and try and understand what’s happening. Because if you are responsible for this then there’s every chance that even if you manage to capture the creatures again, the same thing will happen.

   Oberyn had noticed the absence of the pull when he’d passed the basement door on his way to find you over three days ago. Before you’d been attacked and almost died, so if you somehow freed them, it must’ve happened while you were at the Thanksgiving party.    But what could’ve triggered it? This darkness you apparently possess. What could’ve drawn it out and allowed these monsters to feed off it?

   “I’m not sure that I should go with you,” you say to him, while still just standing there in the middle of his bedroom, afraid of so many things now that you can’t even name them.

   He’s been looking through his weapon’s drawer with his back to you, so he hasn’t noticed that you haven’t started getting dressed yet. But he realizes what you’re doing as soon as he hears you speak.

   “Whether you caused this or not, I need you to help me find them. And if we do, then that will give us some answers.”

   “How?”

   “Because if you do possess the qualities of a Darkling, they’ll be drawn to you. Whereas if you don’t, they will merely wish to destroy you.”

   “Oh… great.”

   “I know that this is frightening, but we need answers. So, please, dress warmly and let us be on our way.”

   You don’t argue. He’s right, nothing’s gained from hiding, especially when you don’t even know what you’re really trying to hide from.    A few minutes later, you’re back out on the courtyard watching Oberyn transform once more, and this time you’re able to enjoy the sight a bit more, since you’re no longer scared of the beast. Even the weapons he’s chosen to take with him are engulfed by the scales as they emerge. It truly is a mesmerizing thing to see.

   But it also reminds you of how far away from yourself you’ve gotten.    There’s no real comparison to be made anymore. Nothing about your life has remained the same ever since your own transformation. And as much as you try not to, you can’t help but think about the horror you could, and probably will, unleash if you are a Darkling.    These creatures would only be a sidenote if you end up covering the world in death.

   He picks you up like before, cradling you to his chest with his front paws. He’d told you earlier that he’d like for you to ride on his shoulders but that he fears the deadly spikes that his hair become whenever he gets agitated or even just startled, so you stick to this form of transportation for now.    It makes little difference to you. His broad chest and the comforting thumping of his heart within, soothes your worries and brings your mind back to a lighter tone.

   The sound, and the breeze, takes you to fond memories of summer mornings, and all the lovely treks you’ve taken into the seven hills. The rustle of leaves, the rhythmic thumping of your feet, or Casper’s hooves, against the ground, the birds singing and the sun rising along your back.    If only life could be that simple again.

   He circles outwards from the castle, increasing the circumference of each circle on every turn so that he covers all directions. From this height, you can barely even see the ground much less what might be moving across it, but his eyesight is better than yours.    You worry about people, though. Because it’s broad daylight and anyone that looks up could spot his large form against the cloudless sky. Which does tell you something about the urgency of his need to find these beings and stop them.

   It somehow feels like only minutes have passed since you set off, when he suddenly ducks his head and falls into a dive, folding his wings down along his body to enable him to cut through the air like a razor.    The wind seems to pass by your mouth so fast that you can’t inhale it, but only a few seconds later it’s already over.

   He opens his wings so close to the ground that it takes all his strength to break your fall and land, rather than crash, but it’s still a rough touchdown after only three powerful pushes of his wings.    And the moment you’re down, he drops you and leaps after something that scurries off through the streets.

   You never have a chance to land on your feet after he releases you, because he does it when he’s already moving away from you, so by the time you’ve gotten up and oriented yourself, both Oberyn and his quarry have disappeared around a corner.    That’s when you realize that you’re in a city, somewhere in the outskirts but it must be a bigger city, because the buildings are tightly packed, and the streets are long.

   Afraid that he won’t find you again, you don’t move from the spot where the dragon dropped you off, except for leaving the alley where he landed so that you can look up and down the street, which is thankfully not particularly crowded at the moment.    He ran off to the north, and you can see a few people staring down that way in what appears to be mild shock, but he probably passed them so quickly that they never managed to get a good look at him, or what he’s chasing.

   You keep to the shadows in the corner that leads to the alley while you wait, but it doesn’t take long before something happens.    Unfortunately, it’s not what you’d expected, or hoped, would happen.    Directly across the street from you there’s another alley which is even narrower than the one you’re waiting by, and from the protective shade of the buildings and waste bins, something strikes at a person passing by.

   You only notice it because you were watching the man that got attacked even before it happened, since he was one of those who had likely seen the green streak of scales pass him, and you were checking to see that he wasn’t on his way to alert anyone about it.    He’s pulled into the alley so quickly and harshly that he doesn’t manage to even scream in fear, and despite the shadows, you can see what happens to him next.

   Another one of the creatures is here, and once it has the poor man in its claws, it rips him to pieces. Literally.    You can see the blood spray clear across the entire alley as his arteries are ripped open when the monster tears him in half, from his right arm down to his left hip. His organs spill out over the ground and then the fucking thing picks up his heart and gulps it down in one big mouthful, before just leaving the rest of him there for the rats and crows to feast on.

   You’re too scared to do anything. You just stand there and stare in absolute shock, because what can you do? What can you ever hope to do against something like that?    For your safety, and your partner’s, you don’t carry a mobile phone anymore, but there’s a payphone halfway down the block, next to a bus stop, and you don’t need money to be able to call the emergency services.

   Slowly, hindered by some form of haze that seems to cloud your mind, you walk towards the phone, picking it up without a clue of what you’re gonna say to whoever picks up at the other end, but dialing the emergency number anyway.    The responding voice is soft and warm. A woman, middle-aged by the sound of it, practiced and at ease with her task. She asks if you need assistance, and when you don’t reply, she asks if you’re hurt.

   “No…” you finally manage to say. “No, not me. I need… There’s a man in the alley. He’s been killed…”

   “Where are you, miss?” the operator asks, and you realize that you have no idea what city you’re even calling from.

   “Uh… I don’t know where I am. What city is this?”

   “You’re in Chicago, miss. Are you sure you’re okay?”

   “Yeah, I’m just… a little shocked. I saw it happen. I saw him get torn apart,” you explain while trying to expel the images from your mind, entirely without success.

   “Are you with the man now?”

   “No, I’m across the street and a little further down the block, this was the nearest phone.”

   “Okay, can you see any street signs?” she asks, and you suddenly feel stupid.

   There are signs fully visible on every cross-street. Apologizing, you give her the names and she starts a new line of inquiries, focusing more on the victim now.

   “You said that the man was torn apart, what did you mean by that?”

   “I mean literally. He’s in at least two pieces. And I think the…” you pause, looking for a suitable way to address the thing responsible.

   You simply can’t call it a man, but you also can’t call it a thing without spurring the operator into even more questions that you can’t answer.

   “…assailant,” you finally settle on, “ate his heart.”

   “I’m sorry, did you just say that the person who did this ate the man’s heart?”

   “Yes, ma’am,” you reply, stifling the urge to add that it wasn’t a god damned person who did this.

   “Is the assailant still on the premises?”

   “No, I don’t think so.”

   “Okay. I’m gonna need you to remain where you are until emergency services arrive. What’s your name, miss?”

   You can’t stay there because you don’t have time for the police to question you, and you can’t give her your name because that would just complicate things so much more.    So, you drop the phone without ending the call, letting it dangle while you walk away, back into the alley where Oberyn had dropped you off, moving far enough away that no one investigating the murder will be able to spot you.

   It doesn’t take long before you hear the sirens, but just as the vehicles begin to arrive, the thing re-emerges from the shadows of that alley.    From your hiding spot less than two hundred yards away, you see the police and ambulance personnel step out of their vehicles, the former shielding the latter in case the assailant is still there, and head towards the alley, leaving you with a terrible dilemma.

   If you try to warn them, you’ll put yourself in danger, and potentially increase the risk to their lives by whatever darkness it is that you might possess. But if you remain hidden and say nothing, they’ll definitely be killed.    You don’t know that you could live with the cowardice of not even trying to warn them, so you set off running towards them, screaming as loud as you can.

   “NO! Don’t go in there! It’s still there, it’ll kill you!!”

   They react, turning to see who’s yelling at them, and that’s when the creature strikes.    The two policemen have their weapons drawn, and when the thing takes down one of the paramedics, tearing the young man to shreds in a matter of seconds, they both try to shoot it. Unfortunately, it moves too fast for the bullets to find their mark, and within moments, the policemen are meeting the same fate.

   By the time you’ve run the two hundred yards to reach them, all four of them are dead, and the monster is working on ripping their bodies apart just for the fun of it.    It doesn’t eat anything from them this time, so the heart must’ve just been a random act of destruction, rather than some compulsory ritual or feeding requirement.    None of the creatures in those cages had been fed anything for years, so clearly, they don’t actually need to eat to survive. Consumption must serve some other purpose for them.

   It stops tearing at the bodies as you reach the street, refocusing on you instead, and you freeze to the spot just as more sirens can be heard approaching.    In the bright daylight, it somehow looks even worse than it had in the sparse lighting of the basement. Its sickly broken skin and black oozing blood seeping out of every crack, its broken bones poking out at odd angles throughout its crouched form. Not quite walking on all fours, but so deformed that its original human shape can no longer be discerned.

   You stand there, as if locked together with the thing, neither of you moving an inch while the additional emergency vehicles get closer. And when they reach your odd little standoff and screech to a halt, the creature finally breaks eye-contact with you.    It appears almost enraged by the metal and plastic cars that stand between it and its prey and attacks the newly arrived firetruck with a fury unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

   Mere seconds is all it takes before its carved its way through one of the doors and is inside the cabin, after which nothing but blood can be seen inside.    Two of the firemen manage to get out before it reaches them, but then it pauses its efforts to kill the ones its already gotten started on, so that it can go after those that escaped its clutches.

   Evil, malicious beings, with no purpose save for destruction and pain. That’s how Oberyn had described them, and that is exactly what you’re seeing.

   “Stop…” you whisper, unable to get your voice to cooperate while you watch the monster finish with the firemen and then set after the second pair of policemen, who like their coworkers have opted to try and shoot the thing rather than just flee.

   This can’t be your doing. You can’t be the one that set this in motion, you could never live with that if it turns out to be true.

   “STOP!” you roar at the creature just before it reaches the desperate policemen, who have now taken refuge in their car, even though they’ve seen that thin metal doesn’t keep it out.

   Amazingly, unbelievably, it does stop at your command.    For one fraction of a second, time seems to slow as the thing halts and turns its head to glare at you.    The moment ends, however, when the giant green dragon crashes through the corner of a building further down the street, while in pursuit of the other creature.

   And that’s when everything goes horribly wrong.

Part 8

The Ten Spirits of the World Air - Forest - Water - Stone - Night - Autumn - Winter - Spring - Summer.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! If you wish to be notified when this story is updated, follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications, or just ask nicely, and I'll tag you.

@harriedandharassed @kittenlittle24 @joelswritingmistress @pedrostories

[loth-creatures]

LORE

Lothwolfwalkers AU Masterpost

I will be editing and adding to this over time and details are subject to change. Most recent update will be indicated with a ☆

Suggestions and ideas are SO welcome, my inbox is your oyster. I might even link previous asks with lore bits in here at some point.

The original Wolfwalkers were a small group of Lothali Natives. They were Force-sensitive as the lothwolves are but typically not as much as Jedi. Of course, they did have dealings with the Jedi many decades ago. They actually had a very close relationship at one point, with plenty of Wolfwalkers becoming Jedi and vice versa. Lothal basically had its own unique faction of Jedi intertwined with the wolfwalkers. But for *unknown reasons* the lothwolves disappeared, the wolfwalkers dwindled, and the Jedi left.

The main Jedi temple may still exist in the records (as shown by Kanan’s holocron) but the history seems to only be preserved through the ancient art in temples and wolf dens on Lothal.

*Ezra said no one’s seen a lothwolf in a hundred years and I don’t feel like coming up with an explanation. Wolfwalkers are also heavily implied to be near extinct in the movie.

When the Empire arrived and began to slowly poison the planet, its magic grew quiet and any scattered remaining wolfwalkers began to lose their power, including Ezra’s parents. Ezra’s high Force-sensitivity allows him to connect to his. Once the Empire is defeated and the lothwolves return, the wolfwalkers will begin to come back as well.

Lore carried over from Wolfwalkers for those who haven’t seen the movie:

The wolf body is separate from the human (or alien) body and only appears when they fall asleep. ☆They can wolf spontaneously but the human counterpart will still fall asleep if that happens. Force-sensitive wolfwalkers can also meditate their way into wolf form.

Some are born wolfwalkers and some become them after being bitten by another wolfwalker

They can communicate with wolves and other animals

Healing powers

They can see scent trails, feel sound vibrations, probably some other sensory chaos

Variations of Wolfwalkers based on Force-sensitivity and proximity to Lothal:

Size Reference

Native Lothal people can become wolfwalkers regardless of Force-sensitivity and transform with ease.

Non-native nonForce-sensitive people can become wolfwalkers but it can wear off or go dormant after a while, and its much harder to learn to wolf on command or control it when asleep. ☆ If their wolf form does go dormant, they will likely wake up in the presence of other wolfwalkers or even just visoting Lothal.

Jedi (or anyone highly Force-sensitive) can easily connect with and control their wolf-forms with practice, no matter where they are, and can contain their wolf when asleep when necessary. It probably sucks though, feels itchy and restless.

Jedi wolf forms can change and grow due to *significant events.* I made the Jedi-wolves gigantic purely because of Dume so working concept that Weird Fucked Up experiences with the Force make the wolf forms huge bc they like. Absorb cosmic energy or something. Ezra will also get gigantic in the future, bc boy does he have some cosmic experiences.

The wolf is essentially a physical manifestation of one's soul, as well as the Force. The wolf is equal to one's connection to the Force, which in my book is like an expansion of your soul as energy from the Force swirls and clusters around you and pulls at you. It causes your soul to overflow from your body and that's why you get power. This is why non-Force sensitive wolfwalkers are normal sized as wolves (same size as normal lothwolf) whereas Jedi wolves are bigger even before having fucked up cosmic experiences.

Also. Force abilities manifest differently in wolf-form. It's like you can't really use the Force with percision bc you are the Force. Or smth. I'll come back to that. ☆

Stuff I made up for the plot:

Ezra has always been a wolfwalker, like his parents. But the lothwolves are gone and his parents are dead and he’s never actually connected to his wolf-form. He often has dreams, trying to find his wolf but not actually knowing what he’s looking for and never successful. It’s part of why he can connect with animals so well, and sometimes he can see/hear/smell through flashes of wolf-sight but he goes a long time thinking it's just the Force. Once he figures it out, it will take a long time for him to discover all the abilities and secrets and hidden knowledge etc. Until the Lothwolves return there is no one to teach him.

If a wolfwalker’s human body dies, they can still exist in their wolf forms but it's not guaranteed. It's a gamble with time and the healing abilities of their fellows, as any injuries the human body sustains will also appear on the wolf. The wolf must stay in spirit form until healed or it will quickly die the same way its human form did. They might also be somewhat ghostish. Like they can still have solid bodies but can also just dissolve into the Force at will. Anyway this entire AU was just my here’s-how-Kanan Jarrus-can-still-win scheme MWAHAHA

[cienie-isengardu]

No offense but in MKX Reptile smells awful going by Takeda so I imagine kind of kills the stealth aspect a little. Also probably makes people wanna stay away from him even in non fighting situations. To Reptile he smells fine, to others well...

Bi-Han: So then I was like-What the fuck?

Hydro: Huh? Oh my god, what the hell is that smell?

Reptile existing several feet away:

Bi-Han: You know Hydro, I think we should leave...

But does Reptile really smell that bad, or is Takeda just an ass here? Because not everything the characters say in intro dialogues is a truth, nor should be treated as fact. Sometimes they say mean things just for the sake of being mean, to manipulate or provoke the opponent. In MKX Takeda wasn’t on good terms with Reptile due to their realms’ conflicting interest and his remark about Syzoth’s scent may be just an exaggeration used out of spite. 

Majority of the characters interacting with Reptile through intro dialogues considered him to be ugly, pitiful, stupid, even going so far to call him just a pet no different than a dog. However from the whole cast, I catched only three people - all Earthrealm, all Raiden’s supporters - that claimed Reptile stinks awfully:  

Takeda

Takeda: Ugh... You been rollin' in trash? Reptile: Respect me, human. Takeda: I'm serious, you smell awful…

Jax

Jax: Thought I smelled somethin'... Reptile: Have a care, Jackson Briggs. Jax: I do care--you stink.

Johnny

Reptile: You dare approach me? Johnny Cage: Despite the smell. Reptile: You will be my latest victim.

so while I’m pretty sure Syzoth as Zaterran has a distinct scent (the same as Shokan, Centaurian or Kytinn most likely have due to non-human biology), I’m not so sure if the smell is that awful, or is it more the matter of those three characters’ individual sensitivity for different (unknown) smell, exaggerated by their dislike for Reptile. 

I’m personally leaning towards the second option, as so far the alternative timeline’s story mode does not imply Reptile’s smell hinders his stealth in any way.

In Mortal Kombat 9, when Johnny for the first time met Syzoth, he was impressed by his entrance and there is no mention of the awful smell. 

In the same game, Shang Tsung has zero problems with Reptile being around, even when invading his personal space (though in the case of sorcerer, Shang Tsung may be already used to his distinct smell).

In Mortal Kombat X, during the New Generation's escape, Takeda was observing the surroundings and using telepathy to win. There is no implication he won due to Syzoth’s strong smell, he also did not complain/comment about it.

There is also a different potential explanation - Reptile’s natural scent has changed over time, due to his age, hormones or maybe even a mental state. The smell that did not matter before but now Johnny, Jax or Takeda complained about, along with a more bland, matte skin tone may be a sign of depression for example. An understandable development, as being the last of his species and being mistreated for decades could take a toll on Syzoth. Or the odor may hint at any other biological or psychological change, as two decades has passed between MK9 and MKX. 

As for Bi-Han and Hydro, they aren’t that easily scared or repulsed. They are Lin Kuei, I’m sure they dealt with the worst stuff.

[super-ion]

Werewolf Facts

Foods such as onions, chocolate and grapes are generally fine to eat in human form, but are toxic in wolf form. Dangerous foods should be secured prior to the time around the full moon to prevent accidental ingestion.

In wolf form and around the full moon, werewolves are obligate carnivores. To avoid bloodlust, it is recommended to maintain a high protein diet throughout the month, but especially in the week before full moon.

Werewolves are predators. Proper enrichment activities are recommended to reduce furniture and property damage during the full moon.

Transgender werewolves retain their gender expression during transformation. In most cases, this will also lead to enhanced effects even in human form. The mechanism is not fully understood, but it may be related to the concept of inner self.

Werewolves are highly social. They can successfully pack bond with humans, but play dates with fellow werewolves are recommended around the time of the full moon.

Werewolves love belly rubs. They may be highly physically affectionate in the days around the full moon. Always remember to ask permission before giving pets, she can be very skittish around unfamiliar people.

While the transformation is tied to the lunar cycle, stress can trigger an early transformation. Please be gentle with her in the days leading up to the full moon.

Full moon hangover is very real. Symptoms include malaise, fatigue, aches and sensitivity to light and sound. Carb and protein rich foods can alleviate some of the symptoms. I like to make her a big pancake breakfast the morning after to help her feel better.

Pure silver can lead to skin irritation. Sensitivity to silver alloys varies between individuals, but generally should be avoided. Several alternative white metals exist. For example, I've gotten her stainless steel and titanium jewelry that she absolutely loves. She is a good girl and I love giving her gifts.

Werewolf social dynamics are much more complex and interesting than the outdated alpha/beta/omega model. Please, please, please stop making assumptions about our relationship.

She may smell like dog to you, but to me she smells of pines and mist and fresh fallen rain. Her scent calls to mind the wild freedom of the forest.

Her song is beautiful and haunting. When she howls, I feel the call of the wild and I long to understand it.

Her claws are sharp, but her touch is gentle. Her caress is a soft whisper against my skin. We lay together in the dark, and her body curls around me protectively. Her embrace is safety. I love her.

Her jaws are strong, and her teeth sharp. All her care and tenderness cannot diminish the pain of her bite. I can feel it burning through my veins, her gift to me. She holds me close and murmurs comforts into my ear as it takes hold. Soon I will be like her.

She beckons to me and we run wild through the forest. We hear the song and I know its meaning. Together we add our own voices to the ancient melody. We are bound together now by the curse and our love.

[quillpokebiology]

Can we hear facts about Delcatty, and maybe some breeds of them? I love cat pokemon and I wanna hear more! Also, I swear I've seen Incineroar happily eating berry's before! Maybe its a dietary choice thing? Or maybe a mistake that occurred during evolution?

Maybe it is a dietary choice! Pokemon are really smart, and maybe the Inceneroar doesn't want to eat other pokemon. Maybe it's like how humans are naturally omnivores, but some people choose to be vegan or vegetarian? Either, glad you told me that! I'm adding it to my research!

Delcatty Facts

-The scientific name for the Delcatty line is "Felis Primus" which roughly translates to "Prim Cat"

-Like their cousins, Purugly, Delcatty seem to have only survived so long because of their close relationship with humans, which has been lasting thousands of years

-The 'pillow' around their neck is stored fat from when they were a skitty. In evolution, it changes to something like a neckpillow so they can sleep wherever

-Delcatty are nomadic, preferring to travel and sleep wherever they need

-Delcatty tails are believed to look like tulips as a way of mimicry. Since they pretty much fall asleep anywhere, they're like sitting ducks for predators. Having a tail shaped liked a tulip is a form of mimicry that helps them blend in

-In a lot of cultures, Delcatty are said to be used by good witches

-If they're ever up during the day, you may notice that your Delcatty will be squinting a little bit. This is because their retinas are still light sensitive (not as much as skitty though)

-Delcatty will role around the area they're about to sleep in or oder to gain the scent of that place to keep away predators

-Delcatty are known to be sneakier than they appear to be, and often surprise their trainers by silently following them and pouncing

-They're related to pokemon like Liepard and Purugly

Breeds

Because a lot of people prefer purebred Delcatty (saying they're more elegant), you don't see many Delcatty breeds often. But, they do exist.

Blubbed: Delcatty whose father was a Wailmer/Wailord. They tend to be fatter and have thicker neck pillows.

Lucky Cushion: Delcatty whose father was a Meowth/Persian. They're ears have a darker shade, and the orbs at the end of their neck are more shiny and coin-like

Cotton Pillow: Delcatty whose fathers are Jumpluff. Tend to be a lot more soft, but also shed more often

Prim: Delcatty whose fathers were a Glameow or Purugly. Tend to be more aggressive and fatter

Fold: Delcatty whose fathers are meowstic. They're more aloof and prefer to keep to themselves

Long-Haired: Delcatty whose father is a minccino/cinncino. Act really similar to regular Delcatty, but prefer cleaner spaces and have longer fur