#fic: i'm no werewolf

[ocappreciation]

ocappreciation + 2022 oc gift exchange ☃

↳ to: @fanficanatic-tw​ → from: @bloodieash

[lucky-fy]

For the Laicion nation (aka, me and three other people)

I had this illustration commissioned (a big thank you to @lunehowls) for my werewolf AU Laicion fic (still a WIP).

The general pitch is as follows :

AU in which Laios never got to meet his sister again, putting his life on a whole other path, a more desperate one. A military deserter with barely a coin to his name, Laios hitches a ride on a boat to one of the elven continents, where he learns about magical tattoos that binds one’s soul to a wolf’s, effectively making them artificial werewolves. Illegal magic be damned, this feels like the answer to… everything.

In the process, he learns about the existence of an illegal fighting ring in one of the elven cities, where beastmen gladiators gather. Freshly tattooed and without anywhere else to go to, Laios decides to head there, where he meets Lycion, an elf and artificial werewolf gladiator. If they first bond over a simple shared meal, by spending time together (sharing the same room in the barracks, maybe the same bed? gasp) they find that they have a lot in common, notably a shared distaste for the body they were born in, a dysphoria partially remedied by becoming a werewolf.

They bond :)

NB: I commissioned another piece, go take a look :D

[tired-demonspawn]

safe to say Dipper, in fact, did not regret asking! :D

anyway always did think Stan had the bestest luck under the sun with the truth telling teeth

i mean not one single person said something to him that would make him spill, like he was one "Stanford" away from "Oh that's not my name actually. That's the name of my twin brother who i've been impersonating." Like this man's luck is absolutely cosmic istg.

[donutdrawsthings]

Here's some more of the Werewolf Jamie AU! I'd like to imagine Zoe and the Doctor have to survive a night with werewolf Jamie in an old house before they can actually find a cure.

[natelia-aldelliz]

Werewolf au where Price is the pack leader, Ghost and Gaz are also werewolves, and then there's Soap, who tried to tell everyone that he was just a human, which they believed until they noticed that his eyes reflect light just like theirs.

Turns out Soap thought it would be safer for him because he's a cat. He can change in a cat. Not like a werecat or anything, just a house cat. Average sized even. And cats are prey for dogs and wolves so he was scared.

Now he can't escape the puppy pile. He's convinced that when they're in wolf form they don't even realise that he's a complete different species and think he's just a pup, isn't sure to believe them when they swear they know because those licks on top of his head don't lie.

[theminecraftbee]

hermit horror week day 1: season 8 or game mechanics

His teeth still taste like blood.

He's locked inside the belly of the Octagon. He doesn't know when he got there, but whoever wrestled him into it was smarter than Ren. They realized the full moon's light didn't reach the wiring. They realized it would give him time to down wolfsbane and silver nitrate. It also gave him time to throw it all up in the corner. If Doc were here, he'd be scolding Ren on the fact that silver nitrate is still a toxin and a disinfectant, and he should still be taking it in small doses, no matter how badly he wants to poison the wolf.

He curls up, shuddering, against the wires and pipes that power the shop. He feels thin and gaunt. He hopes he has not had much to eat. He doesn't have a phone or communicator on him. He doesn't know the day. It doesn't matter what the day is. The moon's visible during the daytime, too. It may have only been a night. It may have been weeks. It's probably at least been days.

He throws up again, because wolfsbane is poisonous too.

Most things that can keep a wolf down are poisonous. Ren doesn't have to take them often. He's normally... controlled. A tamed wolf on the full moon. He has a pack to run with. He doesn't need to poison himself to keep the wolf at bay. He doesn't need to take silver nitrate like it's a medicine and not a reagent.

But none of this is making his teeth stop tasting like blood. His shirt is covered in it, too. His legs. His face, he thinks--he can't see his reflection in here. He wouldn't know. But it would have to be. There's so much blood on him.

He doesn't have a scratch on him.

The only thing that stops him, then, from taking more silver nitrate is that if he respawns from the poison damage, he'll respawn out under the moon. He'll respawn back out there. And then--

He shudders. He folds himself into a tighter ball against the belly of the Octagon. In a shaking voice, he cries out for Doc again. Doc has to be nearby. Doc has to be nearby. Because if he isn't--

No one answers. Ren doesn't know who locked him in here. He wonders if it was a struggle.

He's covered in blood.

It smells horribly good. Ren feels dizzy. He's gaunt. He's so hungry. He'll hold that to his chest. He's hungry and sick, not simply sick. If he weren't hungry--if he weren't hungry--

But he's not as hungry as he should be, if it's been days, and he's covered in blood, and he resists the urge to howl, a long, mournful thing. He doesn't want to howl, or bark, or anything else right now.

Instead he cries, a human thing, and holds onto it tightly while he waits for the pain in his stomach and the shudders over his skin and the grey stains where he'd grabbed the bottle and the vomiting to end, so he can take another dose, and force the wolf further down. Down enough to be safe.

Down enough that he didn't maul his friends to death.

Down enough that he can know if he did.

Down enough that he won't try to leave again, as he knows he will, as the moon shines outside, and as soon as someone tries to open the door to rescue him, letting that light back in.

[taylachan]

A BRE art for the fanfic Blood Eclipse by the incredible @rohad93 !

Gideon is a werewolf and Harrow wants so much to be part of the pack but watchout!!! (Fanfic)

It's been a great pleasure having fun in this event! @tlt-big-resurrection it's been a blast! follow them to see what everybody else is cooking!

[paperbackribs]

werewolf steve, werebat eddie (ch2)

🦇🧥🦇

Eddie’s knee bounces in the stationary van parked outside the Harrington house; he stares down at the open Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual clutched between his arms, flipping between the werewolf and the dire wolf. A drawing of the former has it standing upright, muscled and snarling with outstretched claws; his eyes are drawn to chaotic evil.

He knows that Steve isn’t evil. He does. The man who had spent hours next to Eddie at his hospital bedside showed an honour and trustworthiness that had drawn Eddie in even before he’d recognised it.

No, the caring guy he’s come to know is about as far from an alignment that lacks compassion and kills for sport as someone could get. That Steve is capable of wielding a nail-bat against the monsters of the Upside Down only lends an appealingly chaotic feel to the man Eddie had begun to think of as a rogue knight.

Sighing, he flips to the other page held open by his spare hand: dire wolf. Unaligned and a beast advantaged by its pack, this seems like Steve’s speed. Resembling his transformed self more acutely with its simple, albeit large wolf appearance. His finger stops on the bloodied maw, but the idea of it is still terrifying.

Reluctantly, he turns to the page he’s now memorised by heart. Man-shaped, this monster growls with open fangs too; sharp tapered ears are fixed on a figure draped in an aristocratic overcoat and cape. Finger trembling, he traces undead and lawful evil before pausing over bat polymorph as one of the vampire’s characteristics.

A loud bang smacks against the side of the van and Eddie jumps high enough to hit his head on the Chevrolet’s roof. “Ow, Christ!” He hisses, rubbing the sore spot and glaring at Dustin grinning at him through the closed window.

“Come on,” he shouts, “Everyone’s here!”

Eddie scowls, leaving behind the manual to tumble out of the van. Dustin immediately starts pushing him from behind and Eddie whacks at him with his hands, “Lay off, man. I’m coming, okay.”

Dustin hums doubtfully, “Yeah, but I watched you sit in the van for the last ten minutes and that was only after I noticed you’d arrived. Who knows how long it was going to take you?”

He quickly opens the front door before Dustin pushes him right smack into it, but the younger boy continues shoving at Eddie until he stumbles into Steve’s living room. In a similar configuration to yesterday’s intervention, the party sits, lounges, or stands about the room, quietly talking.

On the couch, Robin sits cross-legged with Steve who’s flipping through a magazine. Eddie’s relieved to see that all four limbs are human-shaped, and mouth only curved into a soft pout as he contemplates the article in front of him.

Everyone pauses to look over at their loud entrance. Steve glances up and, meeting his calm expression, Eddie almost blushes at how uncoordinated he must have looked falling through the door. He averts his gaze to El who approaches him with an outstretched palm, “Are you ready?”

Eddie sighs but takes her hand; she leads him to the open floor and they sit across from each other, “Yeah, we might as well do this. So, you’re going to force the bat out or something?”

“There’s no guarantee that you can shift,” Lucas leans back against the wall next to Will with casually folded arms. “You could be a normal human with bat scars and that’s it.”

“Or I could be a vampire of the night,” Eddie counters darkly. “I’ve been craving meat lately.”

Max rolls her eyes, “You have not, you big liar. I saw you scoffing down Honey Crunch on your front porch only two days ago.”

“Yeah, well, I was high. Maybe weed mellows out the beast.”

Eddie’s gaze flies to Steve when he snorts, but Steve looks away, concentrating on the magazine that Eddie suddenly suspects he’s not actually reading.

The thought that he’s avoiding Eddie stirs a familiar sense of guilt, giving rise to the niggle that he’d tried to forget after the wolf left yesterday, further punctuated by Robin’s distinct stink-eye. Even amidst the fear that had gripped him, he’d been able to see a sad, dejected version of Steve in the down-turned tail and slow trudge away.

“I'm going to take you into the void,” El says, holding out both her hands over her knees and Eddie takes them at her urging. “When I visit Steve there, he is able to feel the wolf and communicate with him.”

“I sort of see him next to me, if it helps,” Steve finally pipes up, watching Eddie warily like he’s expecting him to reject the advice, but Eddie only nods grimly. He’s going to need all the tips he can get he suspects. “Do I let it possess me or something?”

Steve frowns, a hint of reproach about him, “My wolf doesn’t posses me, he is me. Just like I’m him.” He shakes his head at Eddie’s confusion, “If you have a bat or a vampire or, I don’t know, maybe you’ll have a wolf too, then just reach out to him. He wants to be a part of you and you’ll both figure it out from there.”

Eddie looks into the steady gaze of Steve’s hazel eyes and feels it like a hand over his own: Steve has done this before, and successfully. He just needs to trust in the rogue knight one more time. “Okay,” he says, closing his eyes and following El’s lead.

🐺🐺🐺

Steve throws his Fine Gardening magazine onto the coffee table and leans against Robin’s shoulder, she presses back. “Does it usually take this long with me,” he murmurs, trying to keep quiet for the two sitting silently in the middle of the room. Both El and Eddie have their eyes closed and hands clasped with the other. Max had turned the television to a snowy channel to help channel El’s concentration with the static sound.

She hums a negative, “But then, you two only did it to play around and see if there was more you could learn about yourself. This is Eddie trying to find out whether he even has another version to turn into.”

She grabs his arm suddenly, “Wait.” Steve blinks, unsure of what he’d seen other than to describe it as a pulse around Eddie. A long beat passes before the trick of the eye flickers again, so quickly that Steve can’t be sure of what he’s seeing.

In one rapid swoop, the air around Eddie contracts, pulling abruptly inwards until Eddie the human disappears to be replaced with a bat standing unsteadily in front of El. He blinks wide eyes, faltering on tiny feet before stumbling over to land on his back.

Eddie squawks in what Steve thinks is shock before frantically flapping his extended wings and tossing over to push up into the air, erratically darting around the suddenly panicking humans.

With one wing beating harder than the other, he drunkenly tilts and rolls into Mike’s long hair. Shrieking, Mike pulls Eddie out and flings him away even while crying out, “Shit! Sorry, Eddie! Sorry!”

Eddie cries out himself and flutters, gaining his momentum only to slam into the wall with a thump next to Dustin who leaps forward trying to catch him, but Eddie desperately twists before leaping higher, aiming for the peak of the ceiling.

“Catch him,” Will yells as Lucas runs out of the room.

“I’m trying,” Dustin shrieks in a tone that matches the high screeches of Eddie above them.

Robin shrugs off her boxy jacket, “Wait, I’ve got this.” She advances on Eddie as he zig zags against the wall again, but he must see her as a large threatening animal because he chitters wildly before smacking his wings at her face. Robin yelps and falls, only narrowly avoiding hitting her head on the ground by Max urgently jumping underneath to stop her rapid descent.

Lucas skids into the living room, triumphantly holding aloft the large pool skimmer usually stored in the garden shed. “Steve,” he yells before throwing it across the room.

Steve deftly catches the long handle in the air and, with a twist of his wrist, scoops Eddie mid-flight. Quickly flipping the pole, he entangles his small body in the net.

Panting or, in Mike’s case, holding down his hair, the group silently gather around the squirming bat version of Eddie as he shrieks and tries to bite his way out of the thin rope.

Steve thinks of his first fumbling and panicked steps: the distinct difference between having two legs extended to four, not even at the right height, let alone the terror of suddenly having a completely different way of looking and feeling the world had been indescribable. There are still scratches in the wooden floorboards from how hard he had dug his claws in to stop his legs from skidding in all directions.

“Back up, guys,” he says softly, keeping his tone low and soothing. “Hey, Eddie, hey,” he shushes, positioning the net against his torso so he can roll Eddie out of the mesh without letting him escape. Everyone steps back or sits in a chair, and Steve brings Eddie higher up to his chest so he can meet the eyes of the little guy.

Although his thinking or way of interpreting his surroundings may be a little different, Steve is always aware of the world as he would be as a human, and he can see that it’s the same for Eddie. The big wet eyes of his bat form aren’t that different from his human ones, Steve thinks, a little amused even while worried at how hard Eddie is panting.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, “You’re okay, you’re with friends, and this isn’t permanent. You’re just a bat for a little bit, Eddie, and you’ll be human in no time. Okay? You’re okay.” He keeps repeating reassuring nonsense, keeping his fingers firmly wrapped around squirming wings and resting Eddie against his heart.

As a wolf, Steve likes to lay his head over Robin’s heart, likes the proof that she is alive and well under him, and often finds himself calming under her steady thump, thump, thump.

Under his fingers, he can feel the frantic thrumming of Eddie’s heart start to calm too.

“That’s good,” he croons softly, stroking his thumb over the soft down of Eddie’s head. He takes stock of the little body in front of him: over Eddie’s nose the bridge is one long stripe of white, the rest of him covered in a deep brown while the ruff of his neck is almost golden, his ears are tapered as is the long tip of his pink tongue.

They all watch while Steve successfully calms Eddie as if he is a baby cradled to him. “Do you think that’s a were thing?” Asks Lucas, peering at Eddie as his breathing slows down, he blinks back up at him.

“I don’t know,” Will says thoughtfully, “Steve is pretty soothing to have around.” El nods while Mike shoots his friend a look of betrayal.

Steve rolls his eyes, “He was just scared. Look, now he’s had a moment to chill he’s with us again.” And, sure enough, little Eddie’s eyes are drooping as Steve continues to lightly pat him, clearly relaxing into the comforting gesture. He loosens his hold, still keeping a firm grip but not so tightly in fear of Eddie struggling again.

Max snorts as she peers down, “Oh yeah, there’s the big bad metalhead everyone fears.”

Eddie’s closing eyes snap open with a glare and he squeaks at her. Unfortunately, Steve thinks, the cuteness of it all only supports Max’s teasing. Robin meets his eyes over the kids’ heads and silently laughs in agreement.

“Okay,” Steve orders, “I think the lot of us in the same room may be too much for him right now. You guys skedaddle and we’ll let you know when he’s back to rights.”

Dustin looks doubtful, “What can you do that we can’t?”

Robin snorts, “Uh, Dusty-bun, Steve is literally the expert in this room when it comes to were-changes. You can’t research your way out of this one.”

Dustin grumps, “I could. If we didn’t have Steve, I could absolutely be the one to help him get back to normal.” He turns to the backpack shoved against the table. “Here,” he says, pulling out two books with photos of bats across the covers. Steve peers further into the bag and can see back-ups that apparently didn’t pass muster. “These are the books I brought on bats. If he starts craving blood, let me know — I have more on vampires when he needs them.”

Max takes them from his hands while Lucas steers Dustin towards the front door, where they’d left their bikes outside. Mike mutters a mocking noise that sounds like skedaddle and, with that, the room falls silent once more.

Robin and Steve look over at Max as she falls back onto the couch with El quickly following behind. She stares back belligerently, “What? Mom dropped me off and Eddie was our ride back.” El crosses her arms with a serene smile.

Steve sighs, “Okay, but we’re not doing anything exciting and you guys are making dinner.” The girls readily agree, heating leftovers from Steve’s fridge and serving the four of them as they sit in the living room, eating while watching a Bewitched marathon. At Steve’s instruction, Robin had brought down his blue hoodie with its tunnel-like pocket over his belly.

Little Eddie had curled up inside of it and Steve keeps one hand over him to provide what he hopes feels like shelter and comfort; under it, he can feel the heat of his small body and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

“You look like you’re pregnant,” Robin acerbically observes from the other end of the couch, feet crossed into her lap for the lotus position.

“Does that mean that I can finally eat butterscotch ice cream without you making that face?” He counters with a bitchy expression back.

“What face?” She protests even as she makes The Face. Max rises her brow to Steve, “Why does she look like that?”

“That summer at Scoops maybe put her off some flavours for life,” he shares. El ignores them all in favour of watching Samantha wiggling her nose to float Darrin out of a tree.

“If I have to smell USS Butterscotch one more time, I’m going to puke — lack of pregnancy be damned,” Robin warns.

The commercials blares once Samantha finishes rescuing her husband, and El moves to peek inside the hoodie, tentatively extending a finger and gasping when Eddie’s little bat foot comes out to grip it. “He feels so soft.”

Steve snickers at Robin and he thinks he feels what’s supposed to be a bat bite through the cotton in retaliation, but it’s hard to tell with the lack of sharp fangs behind it. He sobers for the younger members of the room, “Yeah, but he can’t stay this way forever. Can you sense anything from him, El?”

She closes her eyes while continuing to hold Eddie’s foot, “He is not upset like earlier, but I don’t think he is ready to come back to being human-Eddie yet either.”

Steve looks worriedly down at the bump over his stomach, “Is he okay? I ran around a lot at first too, but once I figured out what was happening I tried to turn human again as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, but you also didn’t know that it was possible to turn back to human,” Robin points out. “He could be chilling ‘cause he knows that everything is going to be okay.”

El hums, “No, I do not think that’s it.” She shrugs, gently untangling Eddie’s clawed toes to lean back into Max who shifts an arm and drapes it over El’s shoulders comfortingly. “But he is not willing to share either. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Robin reassures her as she peeks into the other end of the pocket, smirking as she waggles a playful finger at him. Steve can see the wide, wet eyes of Eddie peeking out at her in curiosity. “Maybe he knows that he’s cuter as a bat than as a stinky human boy.”

Eddie glares and snaps his small teeth in the air before sullenly turning, curling up and facing the other way. Once again, a small hidden lump in the hoodie. Steve sighs, “We’ll give him the night and, if he’s not back tomorrow, maybe you can look for him in the void, El? Ask him what’s going on or guide him back to being human again. Whatever it is that he needs since it’s not working for him right now.”

He glances at the stairs, “Do you guys want to stay over? You can sleep in one of the spare rooms?”

“I call third bedroom,” Robin calls, standing up decisively, “Second bedroom has a weird smell.” She points her finger at Steve’s opening mouth, “I don’t care if you can’t smell anything, which, weird. Since you’re the one with the super nose these days.”

She grimaces and says more quietly, “I don’t think I can bunk up tonight, all the screaming got me…” She waggles her hand around her ears and Steve nods, knowing that she needs some quiet time after a lot of stimulation.

Max smirks and takes El by the hand, “That’s cool, we can’t smell whatever weirdo smell your nose is picking up. Night guys.” The girls wave before heading upstairs and Steve shuts off the television.

Picking his way through the house he double checks that the windows and doors are locked before turning off the lights and heading to bed. Lying down, he snuggles little Eddie to him, the small body already curled on top of his chest and asleep.

If you enjoyed anything of this I hope you'll consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 - it would make my day! 💖🦇🐺💖

[writing-whump]

At midnight

Brotherly revelations continue. Hector comes home. Isaiah is still sick. Emeto, angst and lots of comfort.

It was almost midnight when Hector kicked out the door of his apartment. "You should have called me right away that Isaiah was here! I'm gonna kill him for ignoring me-"

Hector stopped in his tracks. Isaiah was lying on the couch under a blanket. Curled up and pale, like he was hurt, eyes closed. His face was a mask of calmness that he had when he was sick and trying to not let it get to him.

"What the hell happened here?!"

"Stop yelling, would you?" Arnie was perched on the sofa next to Isaiah's head, for all intentions and purposes looking like a scary mother.

Hector slowed his pace as he came closer, peering over Isaiah.

"Hey. Been waiting for you," Isaiah said, smiling at him weakly.

"Why are you dozing off here?" Hector said. "We have a perfectly good room over there."

"Just...just for a few minutes."

"He has been saying that for the last two hours," Arnie said with a scrunched nose.

Isaiah had the decency to wince at that. "Sorry. Do you guys think I could...spend the night here?"

"As if I would let you go anywhere in this state," Hector scoffed, pushing Isaiah's leg out of the way to sit at his side, still looking him over.

"You stink." There was a faint smell of antiseptics and a oversweet metallic scent on his skin and something heavier coming from his chest.

Hector reached over, lifting the cardigan and unbuttoning Isaiah's shirt one by one with quick nimble fingers.

Isaiah lifted an eyebrow over closed eyes but didn't protest. Arnie gasped for breath as they got a good look.

There was a thick but small square of gauze over Isaiah's heart, though the injury didn't smell fresh or open. There was another even more worrying line at the center, a diagonal between his ribs. The cut was healed, but the skin had a distinctly darker and glasier colouring.

"See? Not sick. Just still in recovery phase," Isaiah said. That he wasn't trying to cover it or sit up alarmed Hector the same as the wound.

"Did someone stab you with silver?" Hector heard himself saying as if from a distance. That evening when Isaiah suddenly collapsed at the wolf meet flashed through his mind. The implication made him queasy.

"No. Had a surgery. Two weeks ago." Isaiah squinted at them both with obvious difficulty, frowning in concern. "Out of the blue heart attack. But it's managed now," he added quickly. "I have medications and prevention and stuff. Won't happen again. I can go back to almost normal with this. Just a couple things I have to watch out for."

Isaiah looked so...fearful as he said it. Curled up as a ball around his exposed chest, small as possible. Resigned, apprehensive, a pained line between his eyes. Hector could hear his heart speeding up and hated everything and anything that had put that look on his older brother's face.

How did they get here?

Isaiah's breath hitched and he made a choked up sound, trying to lift himself on shaky hands. Hector grabbed him around the shoulders and lifted him up before he thought better of it, but Isaiah gave him a small grateful smile.

Hector should probably say something, but his mind was completely blank.

"So that's why you are still feverish and gaunt," Arnie said thoughtfully. He was also trying to sound nonchalant and not like the news were earth-shattering. "You are going to be alright? Swear?"

"Yes," Isaiah said, tips of his ears flushing a little, like the whole thing was emberassing. His stomach let out a loud gurgle, when he looked at Hector, like he waited for the judgment of the devil.

"Well, you better get me that list of stuff to watch out for so we can fucking know how to not mess you up," Hector said through gritted teeth, helping Isaiah lean against the cushions in a sitting position. He had never thought of Isaiah as frail, but with the fever radiating off him and the bloody smell, he felt...protective. Scared for him even. "Rock-climbing sure seems out of the picture," he grumbled.

Isaiah looked at Arnie in confusion, who just threw his hand dismissively. "He means we would love to know what to do to help you with the recovery and anything else we can."

"Right. What do you need now?"

Isaiah looked back at Hector. "I'm fine, I-"

"What do you need right now?" Hector wasn't going to let that fast pulse slide anymore.

"Could you...get me some water?" Isaiah asked sheepishly.

Arnie nodded and shot out towards the kitchen while Hector sat shoulder to shoulder to Isaiah trying to look like he wasn't staring.

Isaiah's breaths came harder now too. He leaned his head back towards the ceiling, breathing through his mouth. He fumbled with the buttons of the shirt so Hector slapped his hands away and fixed them back up.

"He got sick earlier. I'm sorry, should have been forcing more water in him," Arnie said as he returned with the glass of water, his own from before discarded at the table. "Does your head hurt?"

"A little," Isaiah said. When Hector kept staring, he drained half of the glass. "I'm fine. See, I'm telling you!"

"So much progress," Hector rolled his eyes. He gulped down the shock and the a globe of something with sharp points down his throat. It felt stuck between his mouth and his stomach, burning somewhere in the middle.

He was not going to be emotional about this and worry Isaiah more. No way.

"Do Seline and Matt know you are staying?" Arnie asked. "Don't worry them."

"They know I might stay over," Isaiah said. He shuffed over to the edge of the sofa, movements painfully slow in Hector's eyes. He put the glass away on the table and panted through his mouth, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Zaya?" Hector planted his hand on his arm.

"Drank a bit too fast. It's fine," Isaiah said, a full-bodied shiver going through him.

"Idiot," Hector sighed. "Arnie, go get him a bowl or something, I'm taking you to your room."

Isaiah didn't struggle - or help at all, really - when Hector unceremoniously pulled him up by the arm and pushed him towards the guest bedroom. "My room?"

Hector coughed and looked away. "You have been always spreading your germs there, when you are staying over. Might as well keep it. Shoo. In bed with you, grandpa."

Isaiah chuckled, despite the uneasy, queasy grimace on his face, letting himself be manhandled into bed. He was swaying like on a boat, only Hector's grip keeping him going straight.

Hector considered making him change clothes, but Isaiah just pulled at his sleeves and hunched into himself, so he added another blanket instead. And more pillows. "You are gonna say exactly what you need. Nag me and pester me until you get it or I'll kill you, clear?"

Isaiah was still smiling but not lying down. Hector sat down next to him. "Still nauseous?"

"Uhm. I kinda always am these days." Isaiah braced his elbows on his knees, connecting his fingertips. He was still taking those careful measured breaths. "From the meds. Once I get used to it and we figure out the right dosage, it will be fine."

A loud sickly gurgle echoed through the room. Hector couldn't not notice how bloated Isaiah's stomach looked, straining under the shirt and sweater. "You are not in pain right now, are you?" Hector asked gruffly.

Isaiah gently put his hand on top of his stomach, right under the ribs. "No, it's just..." He swallowed heavily, first time, second time, then gagged against his hand.

"Where is Arnie with that bowl? Such a slowpoke," Hector grumbled, turning around to grab the small trashcan and positioning it under Isaiah's chin.

Isaiah panted, squeezing his eyes. His cheeks puffed out and then a gush of the water came out, splattering into the trashcan. Another mouthful came with the next violent gag, this time all over Hector's hand.

"Oh god, sorry-" Isaiah burped, spit dangling from his bottom lip.

Hector grimaced in disgust but couldn't help barking out a laugh. "Whatever. It's okay. Arnie does worse things when he is sick."

Isaiah covered his face with one hand, heartbeat picking up again. "Sorry, didn't mean to, I'm so sorry..."

"Shut up," Hector said, taking the trashcan away when Isaiah's throat seemed to have come to a standstill. He shook off his shirt, wiping the rest of the puke, then discarding it on the floor. "See, the room's all yours."

Isaiah said nothing, chest hitching. Was he sniffling?

"Oi, Zaya, come on. It's all good. You said it yourself." Hector touched his forehead with the back of his clean hand. Maybe the fever was making him overemotional.

Arnie came in, carrying a cold towel and a thermometer inside the mixing bowl, wrinkling his nose at the smell. "Ups, I see I'm late."

Isaiah curled up on his side, back to them. Arnie pushed the supplies into Hector's hands and climbed over, his voice soft. "Hey, none of that. Don't cry, it's okay."

"You don't even know what happened," Hector complained, piling the things on the nightstand and shutting the lights off in the hall.

"Not that much that could have," Arnie shot back, then wiggled his way next to Isaiah under the covers, draping himself over him. "Can I be like this? Does it hurt?"

Isaiah shook his head, choking on tears. It made Hector's skin crawl with how unnatural the whole thing felt. How new it was. Isaiah didn't cry, that wasn't how the laws of physics worked.

"Sorry. I don't know why...hic..." Isaiah rubbed at his wet eyes, curling around Arnie like he was a plush toy.

Hector sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. They were acting like kids, snuggling under the blankets and crying for nonsense. But he couldn't make himself leave.

Hector planted his hand on Isaiah's back, rubbing up and down. It worked out a loud burp that had Isaiah crying more.

Isaiah's stomach made another growling sound and the oldest wolf muffled a groan against the pillow. Arnie hummed unhappily.

"Oh, stop being so dramatic. You'll just make yourself sicker," Hector grumbled, putting more force into the rub.

He kept it up until he felt Isaiah's muscles on his back uncoiling, little by little and he melted into the sheets with a sigh that sounded more harmless.

They were going to be alright, weren't they? It wasn't fair that Isaiah didn't tell them, but Hector felt so tired of today's revelations that he didn't have it in him to kick up a fuss anymore.

But a heart attack. God, at 25, that was crazy. And Hector knew something was up with Isaiah's heart, the pain that the shadow couldn't take away. Why didn't he press him further on the issue? Why didn't he ask more? Why wasn't he there, when it happened? He wanted to know all the details, the diagnosis, how was something like this possible with a wolf at the prime of his powers.

A knowing tickle at the back of his neck meant he had some idea where this might be coming from. Arnie with the migraines, Isaiah with these mysterious pains that caused something like that. At this point, Hector just felt...grief for it all. What happened, that he let it happen, that it happened to them, to Isaiah of all people.

Once he could pinpoint and name the emotion, it crashed over him like a tsunami, squeezing the air out of his lungs. Hector hang his head, retracting his hand as he stared at a fixed point on the sheets. His shadow tugged at him in distress at the unfamiliar explosion of fear and sadness. It strained and wiggled, wanting release, fighting, taking revenge.

Hector shifted in his seat uneasily. Either the shadow was coming out or he would give the firecrackers between his ribs some other way out. He wasn't sure what it was supposed to be.

He ended up nestling into the bed, just a few centimeters from Isaiah's back. It was comforting his breathing came more steadily. Another crush of annoying emotions. Hector shifted closer, burying his head into Isaiah's back from behind, on top of the covers.

Isaiah tensed up, but said nothing. Arnie's hand came up around Isaiah's back all the way to Hector's shoulder.

What a pathetic night it was. Hector hoped they would never speak of it again, snuggling closer.

[celestialseawitch-ff]

Under the Moon

Harry tugged on the thick iron cuff around his ankle. 

“Come on. Come on. Come on.”

It was getting darker in the forest now. The moon would be out soon.

Of all the ways to go, massacred by Fenrir Greyback hadn't really been on the list. Dementors had been higher up on the list. Actually, Seamus’ explosive magic during transfiguration class was higher than the famous werewolf.

Fenrir Greyback was a ghost story. He was the boogeyman under Remus Lupin's bed. He wasn’t supposed to be an actual threat to Harry. That honour was still tightly held by Voldemort.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. 

The Death Eaters had come out of nowhere while he was at the park. He spent most of his summer there before being forced to return to the Dursleys. When he was younger, lingering around the house meant he'd get locked up under the stairs or forced to do labour. Now that he was older, loitering tended to get him beat with a belt. He could still feel the lashings healing on his back from his uncle's latest temper tantrum.

The Death Eaters pounced before Harry even knew they were there. One moment he was sitting alone in a park and the next thing he knew, he was wandless and unconscious on the floor of an unknown forest. 

Voldemort stayed only long enough to gloat.

“I want you to suffer,” he told Harry. “The way you have made me suffer for years.”

“Fuck you, Riddle,” Harry spat back.

Voldemort smiled coldly. “Let's see how much fight you have left in you when Greyback is done with you.”

Harry's eyes widened.

Voldemort's smile widened. “Oh yes,” he seethed as he bent down so they were eyelevel. “You've heard the stories, I'm sure. More wolf than man. Our furry cannibal is going to eat you piece by piece. He's special among wolves. He retains his human mentality and control without the Wolfsbane potion. He's assured me he'll make it a long, horrible process. You will live until just before dawn breaks. And then,” he clenched his fingers into a fist and Harry flinched, “he'll eat your heart out.”

“I thought you wanted to kill me.”

“My mind has finally settled since the restoration potion. The prophecy will shatter once you die. That's all that matters. Then the only one who can stop me is Dumbledore and he will be dead by the end of the year.”

“You can't beat the Headmaster.”

“I already have. He fell for a dark curse I cast as a young boy. It's poetic really. He was always so terrified of me as a boy. Now my youth will be his death.”

“Just let me go,” Harry pleaded quietly.

“You're the final piece, Harry. But how about this. If the prophecy is destroyed before you die, I'll let you live.”

“The prophecy was shattered during the battle.”

“Oh? Well, I suppose you'll die then.”

The Dark Lord stood and strode away. Harry closed his eyes and bit his tongue on the desperate pleas that bubbled up inside of him. They would fall on deaf ears. Voldemort had no pity. 

The air cracked with magic as he disapparated and Harry was alone.

He opened his eyes and glared at the metal cuff on his ankle. His skin was raw underneath and starting to bleed. His fingers had begun bleeding from tugging at the rough metal ages ago. Tears stained his cheeks.

He had never felt so hopeless. 

“Please,” he cried. 

His eyes fell shut and he prayed to every god and deity he could think of. The Weasleys worshipped a goddess, he knew. He thought it was a prank at first, but Hermione had looked unsurprised and curious at the revelation. He knew she'd read up on it. He wished he had too. 

“Please,” he begged into the forest as night began to fall. “Please. Please. I don't want to die.”

Not like this, came the unbidden thought. Because of course he was going to die. Probably soon. Probably painfully.

But not like this.

[a-sunset-outside-my-window]

hullo friend, do you have any wolfstar fanfic recommendations for remus going through the lunar cycle? something like hurt/comfort but not only, just him dealing with all the things that come from being a wolfy

oh boy do I ever! I'm wiggeling in my seat because of this question

(disclaimer, I've been kinda busy the last few weeks so I might come back to this ask later with some more recs lol)

The 39 Steps by gilbertsdoor

Remus hated having to lie, but he could see no other way around it. Closing in on Sirius, he gripped him by the fabric of his t-shirt, pushing it up towards his throat. ‘Alright then. You’re alone in the muggle countryside, wandless, in the dark. You’re manacled to an evil, murderous werewolf, a known killer who doesn’t hold an ounce of pity for your pathetic human life. If that’s what you would rather believe, then by all means,’ he hissed, ‘be my guest.’

One minute Remus is between jobs, isolated, and thoroughly disenfranchised with life, the next he is on the run for murder, being a werewolf-at-large, and for knowing far, far too much.

One minute Sirius Black is a bored auror in training, the next he is caught up with Remus in a mess of secrets and dark magic.

Their lives intertwine, but how long can they keep running from the Death Eaters, and how long can they keep running from themselves?

Harry Potter and the Dog and the Wolf by thewholeofthemoon I live and breathe for this series!) it's very much focused on lycanthropy especially the latest work wich is still a wip but so so so good!

Scent of the Moon by Quietlemonhush this is a little different but very much lycanthropy focused even if it's not always the source of the hurt

Not content to only disown the wayward heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Walburga calls in back up. Bellatrix has all those new friends with their good ideals and their sharp, sharp teeth.

Sirius Black returns to Hogwarts with a bite in his side and a fever he can't shake.

they also have some more smutty wolfstar fics wich feature the lunar cycle if that's more what you are looking for

Dunes and Waters by MarigoldWritesThings ( @marigold-hills ) this is probably the fic most focused on lunar cycles and just the magic theory behind lycanthropy and I also just can't reccomend it enough

Remus is sensitive to changing tides, a part of the moon always with him, and Black is like the sea. He can smell it on him, the way his magic builds up and crackles about the fingertips.

***

A werewolf, a convict, and a riddle.

The W in Weasley stands for Werewolf by gonzoclock this one is mostly here for fun werewolf lore I'm not gonna lie

When a werewolf comes out of nowhere and attacks nineteen-year old Arthur Weasley, he thinks his life is over before it's even really begun. He's wrong, of course, and now all of forty years later the Weasley family is thriving, happy, and healthy- and every one of them is a werewolf.

Things are going really well for eleven-year old Ron... except for the part where he has to get through school without anyone finding out his family's secret while simultaneously keeping his new brother alive. Easy-peasy. Right?

(Pay no mind to the one-eyed beast that seems to be lurking in the shadows- it's almost certainly nothing to worry about.)

Features the entire Weasley family adopting Harry Potter practically the second they lay eyes on him (or before that, even); Ron Weasley finding himself being altogether far too nice too slimy gits who don't deserve it; Percy Weasley doing his best; Harry deciding that being enemies with this Malfoy kid is too much work actually; Hermione Granger being as smart and ruthless as ever; Severus Snape who did not, and I repeat, did NOT sign up for ANY of this; and much, much more

By Moonlight by Eiiri this one, as well is mostly here for the werewolf angst, not nessecarily between wolfstar

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Remus recognizes something familiar in Draco Malfoy and offers him sanctuary. With nowhere else to turn--his parents in prison, his home a crime scene--Draco reluctantly accepts and becomes a tolerated, if not welcome, member of his schoolyard rivals' and wartime adversaries' family of choice. As pages of the lunar calendar turn and the summer wears on, Draco and the others begin to see each other in a different light.

but definitely check out these authors! <3

sorry for bad grammar it's late

[werewolfsmile]

I need to know your thoughts on what was going through werewolf!Eliot's mind wen the team was filming Howl Force, the werewolves-attack-NATO movie in "The Stork Job"

Ohhh myy goodnessss I completely forgot about that!!!!!!

Eliot took one look at the script and rolled his eyes so hard that it hurt.

He definitely encountered some local werewolves on the set and they all shared commiserating looks of can you believe we're producing this crap??

His training and discipline were the only things stopping him from interrupting filming with corrections every time the 'werewolves' did something completely inaccurate.

The pre-recorded howls used on the film set are not from wolves local to the region where the movie is set. Eliots tries really, really hard to let it go ... he can't.

"Wha- No! We're not changing the wolf howls just because you think it's the wrong wolf dialect or something. That doesn't even make sense."

"It's a very distinctive howl, Nate!"

"We're not even really making this movie!"

(fun fact: wolves actually do have different 'dialects' depending on where they live in the world!)

The only good thing to come out of that movie experience (y'know, aside from the con they were pulling) was knowing that none of the werewolf lore in the movie was accurate. Eliot doesn't have to worry about his secret being exposed in that way.

Later, when the Big Reveal happens, Hardison remembers this movie plot and how annoying Eliot was on the set when he wasn't conning Irina.

"Wait, Eliot, hold up. Howl Force is real??"

"Are you kiddin' me?? Y'think werewolves would have any reason to kill NATO troops? That movie was a disgrace!"

"I liked the howls."

"Dammit, Parker!"

Sophie is instantly bitter about the reminder of her lost reel.

[aurevell]

Returning the Favor Sterek | 5k | T

Stiles pays a nighttime visit to his boyfriend in secret, or so he thinks. Unfortunately, the Hale family has keener ears than he realizes.

It’s late when Derek hears the noise at the side of the house. A creak of siding that cuts through the backdrop of cricket song. Just one lone sound, but there’s something cautious about it. Probing.

He lowers the book he’s reading, but no other sounds follow. Derek has been lying sprawled across his bed, drowsy and warm and comfortable, sweatpant-clad legs resting against the wall—but now that he’s conscious of the sound, his focus sharpening, he thinks he’s been hearing quiet noises grow nearer for some time without quite comprehending them. A wild animal outside, maybe, creeping slowly around the foundation of the house. Something large enough that the mulch in the flower bed crunches beneath its weight.

It’s not often that a solitary animal grows bold enough to venture this close to a werewolf pack—the scent always scares them off first. They don’t even get raccoons out here, especially not with the cold this time of year. It could always be their cousin Warren, who’s always thought it funny to startle his relatives with unexpected visits in the dead of night. Or any one of the nasty things in Uncle Peter’s wild stories, supernatural things that creep into the house come dark.

Derek glances at the window, book still resting on his chest, but the house is still.

Maybe it’s gone. That’s just as well: he’s too comfortable to drag himself over to the window to look.

And then another sound comes, an unmistakable creak. Heavy weight settling into place.

Downstairs, his mother sighs. “What was that?” she demands, her voice faint with distance. She and his dad are likely out on the porch swing at this time of evening, even though it’s nearly winter, lunatics that they are. “If Laura and Cora are at it again—”

“I’m sure they aren’t, Tal,” Derek’s father replies, sounding amused. “You put the fear of god in them.”

Mom scoffs. “If we have to repair another door, it’s coming out of their pockets.”

“Not everything is my fault, Mom,” Cora mutters pointedly from down the hall. There’s heavy metal coming from the vicinity of Laura’s bedroom, just low enough to be blasting from her headphones, and she doesn’t pipe up to defend herself.

The thing hasn’t gone away. Metal squeaks a moment later, and then the scrabbling returns, punctuated by a thump and a muffled grunt.

Annoyed, Derek tosses the book aside and clambers to his feet, crossing over to the window. When he hoists up the sash, letting the night chill waft in, he peers down into the dark and finds that the source is worse than anything he could have imagined.

It’s his boyfriend, scaling the side of the house like some deranged cat burglar.

Stiles is hanging onto the drainpipe, having managed to hoist himself several feet off the ground. He’s leaning against the metal awning over the kitchen window, one foot atop the shutter and the other scrabbling for purchase against the siding. At the clatter of Derek’s opening window, he looks up, startled, and nearly loses his balance.

“What are you doing here?” Derek hisses.

“Just returning the favor.” With a moment to catch himself against the awning, Stiles gets his bearing and grins. “What? Don’t make that face. C’mon, you can show up at all hours of the night, but turnabout isn’t fair play?”

With that, he sticks his tongue between his teeth, which he sometimes does unconsciously when something demands his full attention. And the perilous task of climbing should get his full attention, given how often he stumbles when both of his feet are on the ground. God, Derek is about to witness his idiot boyfriend fall to his death or something.

Stiles heaves himself mostly onto the awning, clawing for purchase with a grunt. When he reaches for the window, he loses his grip, nearly sliding backward onto the grass; in a flash of panic, Derek grabs him by his shirt and yanks him forward.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he demands, aware of their volume and even more aware of their audience.

The awning rattles as Stiles draws up his long legs to slip inside the window feet first, ducking under the sash. He’s panting a little as he pulls himself upright, though he bats his eyes sweetly in the face of Derek’s scowl. “Oh, please. I knew you’d catch me. ‘My hero,’ and all that.”

“Should have let you fall and die,” Derek retorts, shutting the window.

“Probably. Oh man, that was so athletic. Sometimes, I amaze myself.”

Derek doesn’t have anything smart to say to that. He’s only half paying attention, too busy bracing for the discussion sure to follow.

He and Stiles may as well have stomped up and down the stairs blowing air horns as far as the rest of the house goes. Everyone will have heard. Derek is absolutely sure because you can hear a pin drop, like no one’s even moving, like everyone’s waiting with bated breath—either gleeful or judgmental or both—to hear what comes next. Even Laura’s deafening headphones have gone silent. Fuck.

Worst of all…Stiles doesn’t know any of this. He doesn’t yet know about the secret the Hale family hides, or how keenly they can hear, or that every word he says will be seized up and cheerfully dissected and gossiped about in real time.

Read the rest on AO3

[natelia-aldelliz]

"зайчик, we have a problem" Nikolai says, opening Price's office's door.

The Captain sighs and doesn't lift his head, focused on trying to decipher the last report from Soap and Roach. Never again he sends them out together, he swears to himself. Not without a chaperone.

"Are we at war?"

"Eh," Nik hesitates, making Price frown and finally lift his head to look at the man.

He has a child in his arms. A black kid, barely more than a toddler. "What the - Nik, who's that?"

"Ah, this is part of the problem," Nik says with his heavy accent, sending a smile towards Price. "Say hi to Cap, Kyle."

The child frowns at him, buries his head shyly in Nik's shoulder and mutters a little 'hi' from his hiding space. Price doesn't understand.

"Uh, hi?" he says back, sending a confused look towards his lover.

"It's Gaz," Nik explains. "Like I've said, we have a situation."

A 'situation' is a bit of an understatement, in Price's eyes. He's surrounded by toddlers, his chain of command decimated, with no explanation and no solution. And if he thought they were a handful as adults, well they're worse as children.

Even Gaz got over his initial shyness and is running around, screeching with Soap. The only one who's calm is Simon. But it's not for a good reason, and it breaks his heart to see him almost cowering in the corner, panicked at the idea of not being home and his father being angry at him for that.

"Psst," a little voice interrupts his thoughts, accompanied by taps on his knee. He looks down at Roach, who's staring at him with a grin. Oh god, what now.

"Yeah?" he asks, fearing the worse.

"I caught a bug," Roach whispers like a secret.

Price looks down at his empty hands and feels the dread rising in him. "That's uh, that's nice, did you want to show it to me?"

Roach shakes his head. "I can't," he keeps on whispering. "I ate it."

Oh god.

The child looks so fucking proud of himself too. Price is lost. If he had wanted children, he would have had them, honestly. Apart from his sexuality and work overload, nothing kept him from just going out there and making a baby with someone. The thing is, he never wanted kids. He has no idea what to do!

"I'm gonna bite him," Roach whispers again, pointing towards Simon.

This is a nightmare, he thinks as he looks at the child making his way towards the poor unsuspecting kid. Soap has started climbing him like a mountain, claiming to Gaz that there's a treasure at the top, encouraging him to start climbing his arm as well.

And Nik is just taking pictures. If he wasn't the only one here that had some idea of what to do, he'd have strangled him.

Soap suddenly stops moving, sitting on his shoulder with his arms on top of his head, and Price barely catches him as he falls, sound asleep, and Gaz starts crying that he doesn't want nap time.

Suddenly he regrets complaining about that report. He'd take a hundred of them over this right now.

[bucking-mustangs-with-wings]

buckxbucky au idea #2:

Lone-wolf John Egan travels into a small town looking for a place to stay temporarily, the full moon only a few days away. Unbeknownst to him, the town is the territory of an established but discreet pack, led by a powerful alpha, the last of a rare bloodline of white wolves, Gale Cleven.

[totem-but-shark]

I'm gonna dump some fooligetta thoughts if you don't mind:

-Foolish still wears his gasmask on foggy days, bc the poisonous gas made him hallucinate Vegetta

-Sometimes Foolish sits out on full moons hoping Vegetta returns

-Leonarda has magical abilities bc of Vegetta

id never mind fooligetta thoughts, dump them on me by the truckload

I love the leo one, I absolutely agree. My own spin on it is that, and it's very self indulgent but, I like to headcannon that leo has inherited and shares qvegettas connection to lobo nocturno/lycanthropy and on full moons has her own little puppy transformation, una lobita. Qfoolish can play dumb around lobo nocturno but it would be hard to not connect a dot or two when your daughter abruptly turns into a familiar looking yet significantly downsized furball. I'm obsessed with the idea of qfoolish caring for a little wolf leo determined to shred every blanket and chase anything that moves, howling at the moon with her and soothing her when she goes searching for the absent member missing from their little pack. Unable to conceal her need for her pa's return in her less cognisant state, not understanding where he's gone and why, only wanting him back. Her transformation serving as both a sweet and bittersweet reminder of qvegettas presence within their lives and connection to leo and equally his absence. Which kinda combines it with your second thought, fun!