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#full shift werewolf superiority
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Full-shift werewolves are superior because as kids, shifting is Hard without a grown-up to help, and kids spend most of their time in pup form until they learn how to shift on their own, and even then it's more fun to be pup-shaped than kid-shaped. At any given time, there are 2-3 pups underfoot, and more are probably causing chaos nearby.
Being pup-shaped means adults having to be creative about time-out. Bad and Naughty Pups go in the Punishment Pot.
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It's the only thing that works bc they can't chew through it and it's too tall for them to jump out of, so there's just a very smol little fuzzball seething with Rage at the bottom of the soup pot.
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2½ pounds of "fuck you."
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lemonwrap · 3 months
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Imagine: werewolf Ghost turning Soap to save his life.
The mission to find Makarov goes to shit. Ghost isn’t there in time to prevent Soap from being shot. He is there in time to see Makarov fire a bullet straight through Soap’s skull, to see his beloved sergeant crumple to the ground like a sack of bricks.
He’s over to Soap’s side in a flash, clutching him close and calling his name frantically as the blood pours out. Soap is quickly dying, and there’s nothing he can do.
No, there’s one thing.
He shifts faster than he ever has in his life, in less than thirty seconds. A werewolf’s bite does nothing unless they’re in their wolf form. His clothes and gear are torn to shreds, and he pays no mind to Gaz and Price nearby as he grabs Soap’s arm, and, in a fit of desperation, sinks his teeth in.
It was the one thing he vowed he would never do. He would never turn a human. But he can’t let Soap go, he can’t just not do the one thing that could save his life. With a werewolf’s superior healing, Soap might have a chance.
Soap doesn’t die, but it’s a damn near thing. They take him to a nearby hospital, get him admitted and under the care of multiple doctors.
That was three days ago. It’s common knowledge that a human bitten by a shifted werewolf would turn within three days, and Ghost hopes that Soap is still unconscious when it happens, because the first time is a terrifying, painful process. He had been turned by Roba in his twenties. All day, he watches Soap carefully, but the man shows no signs of waking up from his medically induced coma.
Soap doesn’t wake up for another two weeks. When he does, he’s confused and utterly disoriented, and doesn’t recognize Ghost or the rest of the 141. Ghost pretends it doesn’t hurt. Even so, Ghost tells him that he had bitten Soap to save him, and Soap understands, is grateful even, thanking Ghost.
Despite his initial condition, Soap’s healing is remarkable. After a week, he recognizes his comrades again, and seems to be relieved of some of the confusion he had experienced. The wound near his temple begins to close up.
Ghost spends most of his days in Soap’s room. That room is where Soap and Ghost share their first kiss, Soap’s shaking hands grasping at Ghost’s jacket as their lips meet, Ghost whispering a soft Johnny against his lips.
Soap healed extraordinarily well, but even the healing powers of a werewolf can’t fully diminish the off and on numbness in his limbs, tremors, mood swings, and brain fog.
They medically discharge him.
Soap goes home to Scotland, and Ghost follows. For a week, they settle in, but Soap shows no signs of transforming, despite his apparent possession of a werewolf’s regenerative abilities.
It’s a good day when Soap shifts for the first time. He’s bright and happy, like the sergeant Ghost knew before, and his confusion is almost entirely gone. His tremors lessen, and Soap hasn’t complained of the numbness that sometimes annoyed him.
What he does complain about is the sudden onset of a full-body ache, as if his bones themselves are throbbing. He becomes suddenly irritable, clawing at his skin and hair and pacing, snapping at Ghost and groaning in pain.
These are signs he knows. Soap’s going to transform, and he’s going to transform quick now that it’s set in.
“Ghost, w-what do I do?!” Soap stammers, looking like he’s trying not to panic, his eyes wide and filled with fear. He’s never seen Soap panic before.
“Just relax, Johnny,” Ghost says soothingly, because he knows there’s nothing he can do other than support him. Nothing can stop lycanthropy except death. “It’ll be alright.”
“It hurts!” Soap cries out sharply, and then his cry becomes a choked sound not unlike a growl. He drops to his knees and hunches over, putting his hands on his head and gripping his hair between his fingers.
And then he starts to shift.
His mouth elongates into a snarling muzzle, baring sharp white canines, his ears lengthen and migrate to the top of his head, and the hair he’s holding between his fingers turns into fur. Soap sobs and says something that sounds like Ghost’s name, but then his vocal chords change, too, and it turns into a throaty bark. His spine and bones lengthen and grow denser, his fingernails morph into sharp claws, and a tail grows out of his spine as patches of fur grow over his skin.
It’s a few harrowing moments filled with Soap’s agonized cries and whines that make up Soap’s first shift. Ghost knows the feeling, and his stomach knots with sympathy. His own first shift had been one of the most painful things he had ever experienced.
Now fully shifted, Soap is huge, easily eight feet tall when standing upright, with a brown pelt just like his hair, a stripe along his back, long limbs, sharp claws, and a fluffy tail. His wild blue eyes, alight with fear, fixate on Ghost. Ghost tenses, nearly expecting Soap to try to attack him. He knows Soap could rip him apart before he’d have the chance to shift and fight back. That’s what he did to Roba, after all.
Soap does no such thing.
Instead, Soap lets out a whimper and curls in on himself, his tail going between his legs and his claws digging scratches into the floor. He doesn’t look like an eight foot tall killing machine, he looks like a kicked puppy.
“Johnny?” Ghost says quietly.
Soap’s blue eyes glance over to him, and he lets out another pleading whimper. His eyes hold a look of betrayal, of sorrow, of why me? His jaws open and something strangled comes out, like Soap’s trying to speak, but Ghost knows that they can’t, not in this form.
“Oh, Johnny,” he murmurs, and cautiously steps forward. He knows it’s dangerous to get in another werewolf’s space like this, but it’s Soap. When it comes to Soap, all rational thoughts fly out the window.
He reaches forward and gently touches Soap’s arm. Soap stiffens, and Ghost thinks he’s fucked up big time until Soap stumbles onto his hind legs, nuzzles into the crook of Ghost’s neck, and wraps his arms around Ghost. His claws catch on Ghost’s clothing and dig in as he grips Ghost tightly, and Ghost is momentarily stunned. He had acted in no such manner the first time he had shifted.
“See, Johnny? I told you it’d be alright,” Ghost says softly when he gets over his brief moment of surprise.
Soap stays shifted for the rest of the day, and shifts back as soon as his body is able.
It’s from there that Ghost teaches Soap how to handle his werewolf form. He transforms with Soap often, and they travel through the fields near Soap’s cabin, wrestle, play, and bond.
Ghost has never felt as understood or happy in his entire life. It’s a good life, what they’ve made for themselves.
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thot-writes · 7 months
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MORE WEREWOLF X VAMPIRE FICS!! *slams fists on the table* I DEMAND MORE WEREWOLF X VAMPIRE FICS!!!!
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how astarion would treat his werewolf gf (SFW);
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Astarion is not as surprised as one might’ve expected him to be. he’s likely had a lot of experience with lycanthropes of all kinds through Cazador (that bitch)
when you’re revealed to be a werewolf, the cogs in his mind are already turning for suggestive jokes he can make about it
you actually hear him (thanks to your superior hearing) in front of his tent mumbling them to himself as he workshops them
“‘Every good dog deserves a bone…’ hm… no, that sounds too seedy. Maybe… ‘if you’re a good little pup I’ll give you a… treat’? Gods, why is this so much harder than I thought?”
you have to cover your mouth to stop your hideous snickering. hearing his process on his meticulously crafted persona is simply too cute
you always end up turning the lines back onto him anyways. after all, if you’re the dog but he’s the one on all fours and begging, what does that make him?
astarion is a little disappointed that you can never wear silver, and he tells you so. it burns you to the touch, but also it would look so good on your gorgeous skin— isn’t a little bit of pain worth it for the fashion?
you throw garlic cloves at him for suggesting it. luckily for him the tadpole negates what damage that would normally do.
loves the bloodthirst. he’ll cheer you on when you’re getting worked up & rabid during battles
occasionally you’ll have bouts where all you crave is extreme violence. it’s quite manageable, they normally only happen when a full moon is close or when you’re in the middle of a particularly nasty fight.
one time, you tackled a man who’d targeted astarion and bit half his face off. you don’t even know why you did it, it just felt like the right thing to do at the time— and your adrenaline was running too fast for you to stop and think for a second
if astarion’s heart was still beating, he was sure it would’ve fluttered at that moment. seeing you defend him with such aggression was so… romantic
he had to resist the urge to pull you in for a kiss. at least while you still had the man’s face-skin in your mouth (did you eat it or spit it out?)
as your relationship shifts less from lust and more to love, he starts to express concerns over the darker parts of your curse.
astarion knows that while lycanthropy has a cure they’re often hard to find— and you’ve little interest in one at this point anyway. but doesn’t mean that doesn’t mean he can’t help you in other ways
when a full moon is coming and a horrific, agonising transformation is upon you, astarion stays by your side and tries to alleviate the pain by showing you have his support
after attempts of trying stronger and stronger pain-killing elixirs failed to make much of a difference, he decided that perhaps just being there with you was the better option
he’s by your side and resting your head on his lap, stroking your hair and offering the occasional word of encouragement
when it’s time to transform you get magically restrained and even still, he remains. sometimes he passes the hours with reading or embroidery, sometimes he tries to talk with you to see if you’re still in there
he hopes by doing this that you’ll learn to retain some control over yourself and you won’t need to be restrained each full moon. and it’s kind of working! once, he managed to calm you down enough to give you a little pat on the head— and that’s enough proof for him that you can best the beast
you’re not entirely sure if you believe him when he tells you that though
and as if astarion needed yet another reason to hate the gur, now he has one.
as a monster, they’ll be just as likely to hunt you. he won’t let them.
even if you have no strong feelings for the gur, astarion is brimming with more than enough spite and vitriol for both of you.
honestly, being a werewolf has made you two even closer than before. you can relate on certain issues now— you’re both bloodthirsty monsters, capable of losing all sense of control and reason, and when night falls is when the people of faerun should be the most fearful— for the night is your personal hunting ground.
astarion is very supportive of a lycanthrope partner (much like he is with a durge one) and will not judge you for it. when your control lapses, he reins you in, when you’re dealing with the pain of a pre and post-transformation, he helps you through it.
on the surface, you’re two fearsome, monstrous beasts that would send an average person running— but beneath, you’re two people madly in love, trying to temper the negative effects of your respective curses. for each other.
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thewriterg · 3 months
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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧’ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 chp.2
pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x fem!reader, john ‘bravo six’ price, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader
summary; easiest sail of your life or standing on the line of death
word count; 2.1k | chasin chaos masterlist
warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language
A/n; We made it passed finals,
04:00 came too quickly for your liking you felt like you hadn’t got an inch of rest even if the feeling was nowhere rare nor new to you as you crouched near one of the normals you had decided to recruit for the mission the rest scattered all around the roof of the main building one eye shut another wide looking through the scope of your sniper a silencer attached to the barrel finger scattering to squeeze the trigger as the body of a shade dropped dead it was ironic you thought when you went over the file and quickly made your distaste known to the knock off shadows it was a second too late you were off your usual statistics even if it was pitch perfect to the average eye it was off to you
“Gaz what’s your visual?” You hear Prices gruff voice over your coms waiting out to hear the next move while your normals wait on your word you can see the harpy hybrid further away perched on a satellite talons digging into the disk his strong weighted wings perched well over his shoulder only for the fact you were looking for him because you wouldn’t of known he was there if you didn’t
“It’s sunny out, we’re looking peachy.” The rich warm skinned man replied trucker hat fixed fitted around the perimeter of his head protecting his eyes from the blaring sun that was beginning to set and when the new set of shades came to take over shift from their comrades to see a good chunk of them fallen the game of silence would be over and you’d be able to make noise
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
“Ghost?”
“Heard. I’ll clear the rest of the way, I’ll keep things under wraps.” The wraith stood next to Soap back pressed against the side of a building gear all black and fitting covering all skin opposite of himself who had on a short sleeve, bulletproof vest, and cargo pants that dipped in the back from his well weighted tail his voice still carrying even through his hard skull mask and a hood that covered the back of his head along with his back side exactly what he would expect the grim reaper to the brunette thought pulling his bottom lip between his teeth
“Then clear the way. When there’s an opening, that’s your cue Soap.”
“Copy. I finally get to see ya strut ya stuff Lt.” The Scott grinned at his superior canines on full display practically gazing into skull even though the man didn’t requite the eye contact himself paying the sergeant little to no mind his own gaze focused elsewhere that being on his gloved hand the subtle sound of Velcro straps being undone a sound that the soldier didn’t quite focus onto
“Ain’t a runway Mactavish”
“No? Could’ve fooled m-” The small sound of fear mixed with ambition slipped from Johnnys lips blue eyes two times as wide and pupils shrinking twice in size when Simon snatched the thick fabric from his fingers nails slightly pointed representing claws even if they were shorter than your average hybrid with claws or talons the tips of his pale hand dark slowly getting lighter as it traveled up his arm shadows singing a similar sound to when you cracked open a two liter of soda and got the first cup even though the ‘fisssss’ and ‘shhhhh’s wasn’t the least of comforting to those on the opposing side when the brunette went to open his mouth the blonde denied the request before even looking it over
“Shut it.” He responds placing his hand deliberately over the worn reddish brown bricks smoking shadows gently traveling from the tips of his fingers before the brown eyes lieutenant applied more pressure veins straining against his flesh even though he felt no discomfort the amount of shadows doubling as they traveled up and around the building hissing gently as it went to soon cause chaos and destruction
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
The site of shadows slipping through the floor of the enemy base was quite literally a smoke signal in itself as you see soldiers fall black wraps engulfing them the act of struggling to untangle themselves utterly useless it stunned you a little even though you weren’t yourself affected the sight of shadows out in the field was a sight in itself you fight a grin off your face settling for a smirk and make sure to mutter into your coms ‘show off’ before jumping down from the side of your building along with two soldiers abandoning your post the rest of six according to you headcount still cover ground from above but it’s not enough shades are crowding all around with guns that put hybrids down after one hit at least you knew now that they didn’t have any hybrids of their own forcing you to press your back against a wall after bullets fly past your temple one of your soldiers Red in the same position behind you and the other Tank crouching up against a wall across from you both you curse underneath your breath muttering into you mic
“Gaz, it’s flatline.”
“I know deity, what do you need?” The voice rings back not two seconds later and across the field Soap perks up the sign unfamiliar to him he’s interrupted before he can pounce on it
“Their coming faster than my privates can throw em, need a window to get my soldiers to the main building”
“Go now.” Ghost speaks up from beside the shadows on the wall are darker than before and their are even some slipping through the slits of his eye holes from his mask and when the lieutenant finally turn to face the sergeant his eyes are fully black and along with his eyes there’s shadows seeping from his covered lips this was more than the grim reaper this was death Soap didn’t know his expression carried shock until he went to grin almost unphased yet his voice told a different story
“Shit Lt… yer gonna be a tough act ta follow. But watch me alright?” The brunettes clothes begins to rip as he hunches over the sound of bones creaking and snapping as his canines make themselves known the act almost to swift for the blondes eyes to follow before he’s three times bigger in size ears shifted to sit almost atop of his temples, thinner coats of fur placed on the fronts of his arms traveling down to his hands yet not reaching his palms mohawk a bit longer and beard a bit thicker
“I’ll put on a good show”
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
“Run they’ve got a wolf!” You move out of the shadows quickly watching shades scatter around as things clash and shake you take your window without a thought pushing until you’ve made into the building alarms blaring yet it’s fairly empty only few soldier remaining that you could see you give your sergeants a look signaling them over with a tilt of your chin and they obey
“For now, we’re one in sync.” They nod look of confusion shining beneath the look of loyalty as you hold your palm out placing it on the area of their foreheads until their faces is covered now mirroring yours the body of a bird sitting in between the area of your eyebrows and the beginning of the nasal bone the head resting in the middle of the forehead one wing stretching around the eye the tips of the wings burning red yet it’s inner body a bold orange and the other stretched over the opposite one tail kicking out to swing over the area of the cheek down to the chin a true sign of the phoenix
The three of you split Red takes out two shades with nothing but the wield of her fists the act of the neck bones cracking under her fingertips while Tank opts for his pistol no matter is its bashing the butt in someone’s skull or shooting a bullet between their eyes the shades don’t know what the hell hit them but it fucking hard as you walk down hallway your fingers drag alongside the wall and you stop gently at the sight of shadows crawling over the wall the timing is almost perfect as an unwanted crowd stand across from you before you can even open your mouth bullets spray your shoulder is grazed as the rest of them are suddenly stopped in mid air black smoke wrapped around them as you and the shadows interlink and hold hands
“You have, exhausted my patience.” You state lowly with a twirl of your fingers before sharply pinching the bullets into makeshift spears pushing them out with force the shades try to retreat but at the end they are still, lying dead on the cold cement floor a burnt red and orange bird mask covered face the last thing they see
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
“Rats are jumping ship… keep a few alive we need the intel. Gaz, eyes on Soap?”
“He’s makin’ a scene in the center yard” The crow hybrid huffs out a chuckle a small grin resting on his face perched on a side of a building brown feathered wings spread across his back while the werewolf huffs a grin on his face before responding into his mic connected by the collar around his neck defending his honor to his lieutenant
“Not for nothin’. Destroyed the drive captain.”
“Good, get to the extraction point.” Price speaks up before dying out just as quickly while Gaz dives to the ground his wings strong going against the current of wind with a ‘swoosh’ and the canine baring hybrid didn’t stutter in steps making his way over to the harpy with a smirk before it dropped confusing the brunette as he inched towards the skull wearing lieutenant
“Haven’t heard from Deity Lt.” Gaz muttered eyebrows furrowed and Ghost’s shoulders are up and tense more than they were before and as he turns to switch on his coms Price beats him to it having overheard the harpy since he left his own line open
“Deity, what’s your status?” With not a slip of the tongue for you the captain repeated into the radio
“Deity how copy?” The complete silence on your end made them wary you weren’t an easy one to take down let alone to be took down at all so why the hell weren’t you answering your damn coms to your captains calls
“Deity” The wraith growled out now order direct and firm even if you were his downright equal you could hear the hulking echo slightly and before Gaz is taking off to cover ground from above they see the silhouette of your mask before they see you your feet a somewhat dragging behind you as you carry the weight of a three thousand pound missile over your back with a body hunched over your shoulder while you lug them both finally able to drop what you came here for, your mission you set the body on its feet staring sharply into its eyes Tank it was Soap recalled yet the position of the soldier standing up straighter with every passing moment until he was letting out a breath nodding his raven colored head of hair confused the Scott was he not just injured? Did he not just look like utter shit slung over your shoulder mere minutes ago? And was that blood smeared around his lips? The uncertainty of it all made him itch while Kyle was quick to come to your aid that you waved off before he could inch to close it confused him it was unusual to say the least I mean sure you’d roll your eyes to the point he’d tease they’d get stuck but outright refusing was rare he didn’t push it though chalked it as the adrenaline from the mission hadn’t gone yet
“Can you lug around three thousand pounds, half a mile” Your eyes were hooded yet sharp as you turn to question the mohawk wearing mutt gaze piercing through him that reminded him of a skull wearing lad and he stares at you for a second before cracking that grin nodding his head but you don’t spend an extra second before murmuring to your privates who go to regroup with the rest of their equals before you begin the walk trailing besides Ghost reaching to give him something that Soap can’t quite see before he realizes it’s a part of gloves when he’s shoves them over his fist the sight of you both with black hoods that sway behind your back the side view of the the Grim reaper and Phoenix was truly ethereal and by the look in Gaz’s eyes
He agrees
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
www.everyoneiscoocooforcoacopuffsbecauseofdeity.com//
I’ve been on break since Tuesday @ 2:30pm we’re gonna act like im not posting this on Saturday @ 9am 😊
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floydsglasses · 2 months
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Supernatural- Dagger Edition
{All Daggers included}
THIS FAILS IM DONE
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𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲"𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫"𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰- 𝐍𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐦
Nephilim are the offspring between angels and humans. They have souls but are endowed with the strength and power of an angel. Often depicted as blood thirsty which is not the case, they keep a low profile, so they are no longer seen as threats but can be dangerous when provoked. They are described with gold eyes and wings, biblically described as giants.
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𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 "𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧"𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧-𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧
Merman is a legendary aquatic creature with the upper body of human and the scaly tail and fins of fish. They are described as inherently beautiful with glossy skin, they appearance can vain, sometimes described with razor sharp claws and fangs. They can be benevolent but are known for rescuing swimmers and deciding the fate of ships. They can be very independent and easily angered if challenged .
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𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 "𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐱" 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞-𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐞
The Wailing Woman as they are often called, are spirits of humans who can depict when someone is going to die or is close to death. Her scream's are known to cause insanity and/or death.  Their hearing is far superior to a humans, and do not age. If she has experienced a bad life she can be vengeful in her afterlife.
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𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 "𝐁𝐨𝐛" 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝-S𝐚𝐭𝐲𝐫
Satyrs are half men half goat, with their leg's as goat, including horns from the head. They are known for shauning modern life usually keeping to themselves but can become friendly when brought out of shell. They are usually described as wild, true environmentalists caring for nature, hating those who dare ruin it, they are known to be able to control nature, with help of their reed and talk to animals
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𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐲 "𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐲" 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐚-𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝
Hellhound's are often depicted as a violent black dog with glowing red eyes, they are also shown as human being's who can engulf their entire body with flames with glowing oranges eyes with claws and fangs. They are known to be roaming all over the countryside in wood's and loyal to their masters, practically immortal
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𝐑𝐮𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐧 "𝐏𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤" 𝐅𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡-𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟
A Werewolf is a human that has the ability to shape-shift into a raging ferocious wolf and wolf-like beast typically when there is a full moon. They can either take the form of a typical wolf or a wolf-human like beast with fur. They are fairly normal till the full moon, when human they have strength and agility, sound, and healing factor. They are far more dangerous in wolf form as they are no longer in touch with their humanity.
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𝐉𝐚𝐯𝐲 "𝐂𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐭𝐞" 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨-𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞
A Vampire is a human reborn with a taste for blood, they are known for their immortality, super speed, strength, and their charm. Usually human cannot resist their charm's, which makes them a perfect companion or meal. They look human, unnaturally beautiful, when their fang's come out their face will contort. Unfortunately they cannot be out in the sun and have to be invited into homes. They are immortal till they are killed or cured
literally dont care what you do with this post its gonna fail either way so enjoy because its the last moodboard from me possibly I'm going through a phase rn
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abitohoney · 1 year
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A Shimmer in the Night
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Chapter 1 of 5 - Taking Matters Into Your Own Hands AO3 link
CH1 || CH2 || CH3 || CH4 || CH5
Sevika x female reader
Rating: Explicit, MDNI, 18+, NSFW
Tags: Sevika/Reader, Enforcer!Reader, Werewolf!Sevika, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Smut, Light Dom/sub, Dom!Sevika Sub!Reader, Begging, Praise Kink, Cunnilingus, Overstimulation, Strap-Ons, Rough Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Aftercare, Soft Sevika, Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, Vaginal Fingering, Choking, A/B/O Dynamics, Marking, Rutting, Heat, Werewolf Sex, Knotting, Breeding, Minor Character Death
Word Count: 6.6k
Summary: A series of mysterious, violent murders has taken both Piltover and the Undercity by storm. As a relatively new enforcer, you're bound and determined to solve this before any more innocent lives can be taken. Nothing prepares you, though, for the discovery you make when you take matters into your own hands. Nor are you prepared for the involvement of Silco's enigmatic right hand woman.
AN: This is already complete on AO3. Just bringing it to Tumblr now. Tags are for the entire fic, not necessarily the individual chapters.
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You stand in the office of your superior, along with half a dozen other enforcers, listening as the Piltover sheriff provides a brief on the latest findings regarding a series of mysteries murders.
For several consecutive months now, there has been a seemingly random night in which dozens of citizens of both Piltover and the Undercity had fallen victim to these brutal, animalistic killings. It appeared the killer, or killers, worked indiscriminately, targeting man, woman, or child, rich or poor, several of your fellow enforcers included. The only commonality being how mangled the bodies were left. With sharp, claw-like tears in both clothing and skin, and canine, fang-like bite marks and gouges in the flesh. Traces of purple-tinged saliva found near the puncture sites.
"With body count up to several dozens and quickly rising, we need to act fast to locate and seize the culprit or culprits," Marcus explains, and you struggle to keep your mouth shut and let him finish, knowing you have useful information to share. "Considering the sheer amount of deaths, and the short time between several of the reported discoveries, I suspect we are dealing with multiple assailants," he continues, and you're visibly, anxiously shifting from foot to foot now. He takes notice, eyes flitting to your dancing feet, but he seems to ignore it as he blathers on. "We have yet to determine a pattern beyond what seems to be a once a month occurrence. Calendar date and day of the week have thus far been random-"
Marcus stops abruptly, turning to you with blatant annoyance across his face. "Is there something you'd like to share with us?" He bites out through clenched teeth.
"Sir, if I may," you start, taking several steps forward to the front of the desk, across from where he sits in his chair. The look he gives you says you may not, that he was being sarcastic, but you ignore out and press on. "I believe there is in fact a predictable pattern, a very obvious one actually," you pause, though only briefly when you catch his eye twitch at your last remark. Probably not the best choice of words to use with your superior, especially given you’ve only been an enforcer for less than a year now, but he really is only superior by rank, certainly not by intelligence. "Do you have a calendar?" You question, gaze dropping to his desk where you spot a small calendar facing him. Without waiting for his reply or permission, you reach across and grab it, setting it flat so both of you could view it as you quickly flip back through the pages. "Last attack happened here," you state, finger pointing first to the date, then slipping down to the lunar phase for that day, a full moon. "Prior to that…" you start, flipping back nearly thirty pages before poking at another full moon, "...here." Without removing your eyes from the calendar, you turn back yet another thirty, this time without speaking, simply pointing to the phase of the moon.
Finally lifting your gaze to take in the sheriff's expression, you find him staring down at the latest page, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed.
"I can keep going, sir," you add.
He rubs his temple between thumb and forefinger, and you're certain he's going to try to argue when he opens his mouth to speak. Not giving him a chance, you cut him off, "And tomorrow is the next full moon." Flipping all the pages back in one swipe to the current day, you pull back slightly, pressing your palms against the edge of the desk and allow him to reluctantly turn the page to the following day himself.
"And that's not all I've noticed," you continue, running entirely on adrenaline and ignoring how Marcus won't even lift his head to acknowledge you as you speak, clearly in denial of the knowledge you've obtained on your own accord. "The traces of purple saliva we've found on the victims has a muted luminescence very similar to that of the shimmer that floods the Undercity. I believe whoever, or whatever, is responsible has been under the effects of some variant of shimmer. We should start by investigating the possible sources of this shimmer, and set a curfew for tomorrow, before dusk."
Standing fully now, you anxiously wait for Marcus to speak, unknowingly tapping your foot in the otherwise quiet room. Unable to see your fellow enforcers standing behind you, it's still very apparent by their silence that they are in shock and likely just as anxious as you, though for entirely different reasons.
"So, let's pretend your moon theory holds water. You expect me to, in the span of less than a day, tell not just the entire population of Piltover, but also the Undercity, the people who despise us, that we are enforcing a curfew… on Progress Day? And then top it off by sticking our nose in the business, the main source of income, of the Undercity?" He asks, speaking in a slow, measured tone.
Shit. Tomorrow is Progress Day. You hadn't even thought about that, but it really doesn't matter. Something has to be done before more lives are lost.
"Yes," you reply simply.
His narrowed eyes meet yours and you already know what he's going to say. Fists balling at your sides, you fight the urge to cut him off again as he speaks.
"You're clearly not in your right mind. Probably overworked. Take tomorrow off." He says with finality, one that you ignore.
"Sir, we can't just sit and let this happen again," you start, throwing your hands in the air dramatically.
"We are not going to just sit and let anything happen. We have a plan-"
"A plan?!" You scoff, "You mean that bullshit of sending more enforcers out to slaughter?"
"That's enough!" Marcus hollers, slamming his fist down on the desk. "You are dismissed and relieved of this team!"
Mouth agape, you stare dumbfounded at the sheriff.
Did he really just kick you off this case?
"Fucking unbelievable!" You shout, spinning on your heel and storming towards the door, pushing your way between two of your stunned coworkers. Just as you're about to shut the door behind you, you hear Marcus fire one last shot in your direction.
"Make that a week. Without pay."
Worthless prick.
Lying in your bed that night, you glare up at the ceiling unable to sleep with the rage that's currently burning a hole in your chest. That stupid man was too blinded by his own damn pride to see the obvious. And that stupidity was going to cost more innocent lives tomorrow night. Well, not if you have anything to say about it. He may have relieved you of your duties for the next week and kicked you off the case, but you could do your own investigative work tomorrow. Maybe even convince some to stay indoors come sundown. The money doesn't even matter. You just want to put an end to the senseless killings.
Sighing heavily, you roll onto your side, closing your eyes as you try to formulate a plan. You'd heard the name of the supposed criminal kingpin running the shimmer business. Silco. He's an obvious start. All you can do is hope he'll be willing enough to hear you out. To share any information he may have regarding an errant form of shimmer. Mind racing, it doesn't take long for exhaustion to set in, and your thoughts drift and fade into nothing as sleep finally takes you.
The following morning you're up bright and early, uniform on despite being relieved of your duties for the next week. Your plan, to claim you'd been sent by Marcus to investigate the Undercity, will be much more convincing if you are dressed as an enforcer. Successfully sneaking past several of your colleagues unnoticed, you make your way to the lift that will take you to the lowest level of the Undercity, a place you'd only visited once before along with Marcus and several other new recruits. It isn't until the rickety cage reaches the very bottom of its run that the weight of what you're about to do hits you hard. Just as hard as the Undercity smog that invades your lungs the moment you step out. Reality rears its ugly head; you're about to traipse right up to the criminal kingpin Silco under false pretense and inquire about a rather deadly set of events. That is, assuming you can even convince him to grant you audience.
Thankfully your memory serves you well and you're able to locate The Last Drop rather easily. Seems most of the Undercity dwellers are still asleep, only encountering a few threatening looking characters in the shadows of adjacent alleyways. Either your uniform or your hand hovering over the pistol at your side is enough to keep them at bay. The large neon eye of Zaun over the entrance, even when not lit, stands out amongst the considerably smaller, more drab buildings along the outskirts of the lanes. It's rather intimidating, probably intentionally so, and you start to second guess your plan the moment you push one of the large doors open.
There are several shady looking citizens within, all of whose attention is immediately drawn to you as you step inside. Clearing your throat, you attempt to stand tall and hold an air of authority, despite feeling like the only prey in a room full of hungry predators.
"I'm here to speak with Silco on behalf of Marcus," you announce to no one in particular. Two of what you're now assuming to be Silco's goons exchange glances before looking to something at your right. Following their gaze you find two rather large and intimidating looking bald men standing with their arms crossed at the bottom of a set of stairs leading to a balcony. One of them nods towards the stairs, and you take that as an invitation to follow.
As you reach the bottom of the stairs, you offer a nod to the other man, who makes no move to allow you room to pass, forcing you to turn sideways to avoid contact as you slip by. Swallowing hard, you focus on your breathing to calm your nerves as you follow a few steps behind the first man.
"Wait here," he grunts as the two of you come before a large door near the end of the balcony. As instructed, you stand near the railing while he knocks. You hear a muffled drawl, "Come in," from the other side of the door and try to catch a glimpse as the man steps inside, but his large frame eats up almost the entirety of the doorway before he's inside and closing the door behind him. You try to listen in on the short conversation, but become distracted when you catch several of the goons below are still watching you intently. The realization that you may be in over your head hits you, but it's too late now.
The door swings open again, startling you and you spin to find the large man standing just outside, waiting for you to enter the room.
"Thank you," you somehow manage without your voice cracking. He, unsurprisingly, says nothing and you walk past and into what you immediately identify as an office given the large wooden desk situated at the back center of the room, just beneath an ornate green window set within an intricate iron design. The door clicks shut behind you and you're grateful that whoever sits in the tall-back chair behind the desk is turned toward the window because you visibly jump.
Something moves to your left, just within your periphery as you step further into the room. It's only when you turn towards it that you realize there is another person in the room, and you're awestruck by the sight. There, sitting with thick thighs spread on a dark red settee, is a beast of a woman. She's leaning back, one dark-skinned arm, including a bicep that looked as if it could tear through the leather shoulder and arm guard covering it, draped along the backrest. Her other arm is oddly covered by a dark red cloak that hangs only over her left side. A cigarillo rests in the corner of her mouth, dark lips curled around it in an unabashed smirk. Your eyes meet hers, stormy gray and full of mirth, apparently amused by how jumpy you are. She's just as intimidating, if not more so, than the two large men guarding the stairs. But she's also incredibly attractive-
"So the good sheriff sent you, a fresh faced enforcer, all the way down here by yourself to speak with me?"
The low measured tone of the man at the desk pulls you from your thoughts, your attention returning to the desk to find he's now turned to face you. And you are definitely alone in a room with two very scary individuals. Silco, you presume, though a stark difference in both size and skin tone compared to the woman, is terrifying all the same. He's lean, almost frail, with ghostly pale skin. What has you frozen and unknowingly holding your breath is his frightening left eye. It's a fiery orange set within a black abyss. Almost the entirety of the left side of his face is horribly scarred, but as you force yourself to look at his good eye, both out of fear and respect, you found that teal orb to be just as intimidating in that you're certain he can see into your soul with the way it burns through you.
“Uhm- yes, he did,” you reply, taking a few steps closer in an attempt to keep the heated gaze of the woman out of your periphery and from distracting you any further. “As you may already be aware, Marcus is leading an investigation into the mysterious murders that have been plaguing your city as well as our own. Something we recently observed was that many of the victims seem to have traces of what appears to be shimmer along the gashes and soaked into their clothing. As the main distributor of shimmer, we’re wondering if there is any information you may have to share that might aid in the investigation.”
Silco’s brow, the one not affected by whatever had scarred the other half of his face, raises ever-so slightly. “Are you- excuse me- is the good sheriff implying that I have something to do with this?” He questions, tone measured and his teal eye calculating.
You’re certain he’s merely attempting to intimidate you, but you remain unaffected. Or at least play it off that way, but it’s impossible to deny the amount of tension filling the room between all three current occupants, including the woman whose gaze is literally raising the hairs on the back of your neck.
“No sir, you misunderstand me. I’m certain you’d like to know who or what is killing your citizens just as much as we do. We’re simply wondering if perhaps you could give us the names of some of your secondary distributors or material suppliers that could possibly be misusing or marketing tainted shimmer. We’re working with very little information here, so anything that comes to mind could help us solve this and prevent further deaths.”
Regarding you for a moment, Silco seems almost bored, and suspiciously so given how dire the circumstances are for his people. This ought to concern him and drive him to seek assistance, even if it’s from topsiders.
“Nothing comes to mind, but I’ll be sure to contact Marcus should something arise. Please let him know that the Undercity appreciates his dedication to our well-being and safety,” he replies dryly and with finality as he picks up several papers from his desk.
“Silco, sir, please, there must be something you can share. A name. There’s a definitive pattern of these killings occurring on nights of a full moon and tonight will be another full moon. If we don’t act quickly-” Your plea for his cooperation is promptly ignored and sharply cut off by Silco’s low voice, which you note now carries a hint of irritation.
“Sevika, if you would be so kind as to show our guest out.” His gaze drops to the papers in his hand. End of discussion.
Tempted to press him further, your words falter the moment you hear the floorboards creak and catch sight of the woman, Sevika, rising to her feet. Not wishing to wait for his obvious right-hand to physically remove you from the premise, you release a frustrated breath and turn on your heels, marching out into the hallway.
Heavy footfalls follow not far behind you, and as you reach the stairs you lose your cool.
“You don’t need to walk me to the door. I’m well aware of where it is,” you snap without looking back. You hear the deep, snide chuckle behind you before Sevika replies.
“Boss’ orders.” Her voice is as deep as her laugh, and just as thick with arrogance.
Biting your tongue, you hold back the snarky remark that threatens to spill out. It won’t help the situation, and there’s no denying this woman could take you out with little to no effort if she felt compelled to.
The large goons at the bottom of the stairs step aside for the two of you to pass and you ignore the heated stares from the remainder of the bar’s occupants, heading straight for the large set of doors that lead to the streets. Sevika is still trailing not far behind you, and it only proves to further test your patience. With the door in arms reach, you just need to get out and cool off. You wrap your fingers around the large handle and pull the door open only to find it forced shut as a much larger hand lands just above your own. Clenching your teeth, you ignore the way the large bicep at the side of your head flexes as Sevika invades your space, and focus instead on formulating something to say that won't end with you unconscious on the floor of this filthy bar. Whatever remark you have ready dies behind your parted lips when you feel something heavy and sharp on your shoulder, just under the arm currently preventing you from leaving.
Your eyes drop to the offending object to find a series of sharp, deadly looking silver-tipped nails attached to intricate brass hinged fingers. Each one curls and digs into your shoulder, piercing your uniform just enough for you to sense the cold metal points against your otherwise fury-heated flesh. You're forced to turn to face Sevika by those claws and your eyes follow them in a mixture of awe, wonder and fear as they drop to her left side and disappear beneath the dark red cloak.
"Listen here, sweetheart,” she sneers, and you’re not sure you appreciate the tone she’s taking with you, nor the seemingly condescending pet name. You raise your eyes to meet her steely gaze, and it takes you tilting your head back enough to crane your neck given how impossibly tall she is. “You and I both know Marcus wouldn’t send a rookie to question Silco."
Setting your jaw straight you attempt to hold your head high and remain cool as she towers over you in a clear attempt to prove dominance and induce fear.
“You don’t know that and frankly it doesn’t matter given the situation we’re in,” you grit out, fists clenching at your sides. Her eyes drop momentarily, apparently taking notice of that before raising again to meet your gaze. The nasty grin that tugs at her dark lips pulls higher and she takes a small step closer until your chests nearly touch, caging you in further between her massive body and the door behind you. You realize that she must have ditched her cigarillo at some point and something catches your attention in your periphery. Letting your eyes flit to her left cheek for a moment, you’re surprised to find a series of scars scattered like blue lightning, running from just beneath her eye, clear down her thick neck and under the soft leather choker that’s wrapped around it. Her gruff voice draws your attention back to her stormy eyes.
"I suggest you keep your nose out of the situation , unless you're looking to get hurt." With her proximity you can feel her warm breath fan across your face, filling the air around you with the smell of cigars and whiskey.
"Is that a threat?" you ask, indignation written plain as day on your face and you begin to question that initial physical attraction that hit you when you’d first laid eyes on her in Silco’s office. This brute and her boss are clearly in cahoots with whatever, or whoever, is behind these murders. Either that or they themselves are directly responsible, and given that terrifying looking claw of a left hand she had, the latter seems most plausible.
"No, sweetheart,” she replies, her voice dropping impossibly lower and you swear you catch a flash of purple behind those gray eyes before she lowers her head. “That's a promise," she rasps a mere hairsbreadth from your ear. The tiny hairs at the back of your neck rise again and a shiver runs mercilessly down your spine. Something about the way she spoke those words felt like more than the threat you want to believe is all she intended. And as she stands back to her full height, you find yourself ensnared by the way her thick lips curl into a wide, feral grin, revealing two white rows of teeth that you’re certain each include a pair of excessively sharp canines.
That's… different .
It isn’t until she steps away, the heat that had been radiating from her body disappearing along with her, that you are suddenly aware of just how excruciatingly hot your body had become. The cool air of the bar rushes over the small amount of exposed skin from around your uniform, sending yet another, much more visible chill, through your body.
Sevika’s dark, short chuckle rumbles from her chest and fills the otherwise silent room, bouncing off the walls and singing in your blood-pulsing ears. To say you're pissed is an understatement. It isn’t until you hear another snicker, one that certainly isn’t hers given how distinct hers is, that you recall the two of you are not alone. Clearing your throat, you attempt to straighten yourself up, because apparently at some point your body had gone limp and you were held up only by your back slumped against the door. Unable to clear your head enough to form any sort of retort or even a farewell, you silently turn, open the door and slip out into the smog-filled streets as quickly, albeit pridefully, as possible.
For the entirety of your return topside, you try to convince yourself that the only thing grating your nerves is anger, frustration and maybe a bit of fear, nothing else. That initial… allure or whatever it was you felt when you looked at that woman, is gone. She's bad news.
You spend the next several hours at a desk in your small bedroom pouring over the past several months of reports, of which you admittedly obtained copies illegally a few nights back when Marcus refused to let you review them on your own. It seems glaringly obvious that shimmer is somehow involved. Nearly every report, out of some hundreds of them, indicate the presence of the neon purple substance on or around the victim. And after the morning’s questioning with Silco and his- enigmatic second in command, your suspicions only grew. The two of them screamed shady business, and of course Silco was already widely known for such, but whatever this was didn’t seem business related, at least not something an industrialist should be interested in.
Reading a particularly detailed report on one of the latest victims, you come across the descriptions of the gashes found on various parts of the body. They were reported to be animal-like, as if the flesh was ripped by large claws. And chunks missing, torn by large, sharp canines. Your mind flashes back to your encounter with Sevika, that brief moment where you swore her eyes glowed purple, the flash of sharp, oddly long canines, those metal claws she hid beneath her cloak and to top it all off, the obvious threat she gave you. It all absolutely reeked of foul play.
Not one to admit defeat so easily, you opt to take a trip to the Undercity again later to question some of the locals. With a new lead, you focus your interrogations on Silco, or more specifically Sevika. Does she frequently mingle with other individuals? Based on the sheer amount of killings, she can’t possibly be doing this alone. Has she ever just up and disappeared the night of a full moon? What about any of Silco’s other subordinates? Do any of them have animalistic augmentations or body modifications?
Needless to say, you’re no luckier than you were talking directly to Silco. It would seem that either the Undercity inhabitants are just naturally uncooperative, or probably more-so they have an extreme dislike for topsiders, enforcers in particular. This also, unfortunately, makes them less perceptive to your suggestions that they all stay in that night. Your explanation that the killings coincide with a full moon either fall on deaf ears or earn you condescending laughter and snide remarks.
Just hours before dusk you’re back to your desk, slumped over in your chair. Out of leads and out of time.
Fit with your enforcer issued pistol and a rifle you’ve only ever used for target practice, you stuff your camera into a small pack attached to the belt at your waist. Unsuccessful in obtaining enough information to put a complete stop to the murders, you’ve opted to do the next best thing. Arm yourself to take out the culprit, or culprits, and maybe save a few lives. Or at the very least capture some pictures that could aid in solving the mystery before another attack a month from now. Ditching your enforcer uniform to a) avoid being caught in it while off duty and b) don something more practical than the standard issue dress, you opt for simple fitted jeans, ribbed tank top, black jacket and some sturdy ankle high boots.
Glancing out your window situated over the desk in your bedroom you can already see the full moon starting to poke out from behind the clouds in the nearly dark sky. You need to move fast. The area you plan to scope out, a heavily forested area with a winding walking path, is a far trek from your home. That particular area seemed to have the highest frequency of incidences in Piltover, so you’re hopeful that you’ll find something there.
Heading out, you’re disappointed, but not surprised considering it’s Progress Day, to find there are still a large sum of people wandering all throughout Piltover. Many of them are drunk, which you’re certain will make them easy targets, especially when they do finally decide to head home late in the night, likely alone and unarmed. Even many of your fellow enforcers are out enjoying themselves rather than holding posts and staying vigilant.
It makes your stomach churn and your vision blur with red at the thought of how Marcus simply chose to take no action, just like Silco. That odd little similarity hits you and you pause just outside the edge of the entrance to the forest.
Is that just a coincidence?
You’re pulled from your thoughts when the single lamp along the walking path that winds in and out of the woods begins to flicker. Gaze drawn upward to the flashing yellow, you catch sight of the full moon as it disappears behind the clouds just as the bulb in the lamp finally dies out, leaving you in complete darkness.
Not wanting to give away your presence by pulling out a flashlight, you push forward nearly blind, stepping between the tall evergreen trees and further into the darkness. The cloud above passes quickly, providing you with just the faintest glow from where the moonlight sneaks through the tiny gaps between the tree tops. Treading slowly, carefully, you attempt to move as quietly as possible. Once you reach the edge of a small clearing where you can see the edge of the walking path poking through, you find a relatively flat spot behind a large trunk and drop to kneel on one knee. With your rifle resting on your back, strap over your shoulder, your hand rests over the pistol on the opposite side of your pouch. All that’s left to do is sit and wait.
You’re not sure how long you’re waiting there, but it’s definitely long enough for your nerves to settle and for the sweet siren’s call of sleep to reach your mind and body. Eyes and body heavy, you shift to sit on your haunches, leaning your shoulder against the massive trunk. It’s eerily quiet tonight. No animal seems to be awake, not even the insects. The only sounds your ears can pick up on are the occasional rustle of leaves when a gentle breeze passes through or your own breathing when it’s otherwise calm.
Another cloud passes overhead, evident by how that tiny bit of moonlight you’re relying on suddenly disappears. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear something heavy was taped to your eyelids with how difficult it became to keep them open. Maybe you needed to move to a different spot, another one along the path. Your lids droop and you catch a glimpse of moonlight. Willing your eyes open again, you try to consider your options. Your vision goes black again as you start to nod off. When your head starts to slip along the rough bark of the tree, your eyes shoot back open again. The clearing is fairly well illuminated again, clouds apparently passed. Just as your eyes are about to fall shut yet again, your ears pick up on something.
A rush of adrenaline has you wide awake as you hear the sound of crunching leaves and twigs just past the clearing. Somebody, or something, is moving just out of sight. Careful not to make a sound yourself, you push back up onto both knees, then raise one to place your foot on the ground in the event you need to run. It could just be an animal. Or it could just be someone taking a late night walk. But your hand hovers over your pistol regardless.
Something starts to step into the clearing, into the moonlight, and your heartrate kicks up a notch. Whatever it is, it’s large enough to be human, but definitely on all fours like an animal. Holding your breath you watch wide eyed as it steps fully into view. It’s covered completely by dark, matted fur, with a large snout. It’s reminiscent of a wolf, but far too large and the rear legs are oddly similar to that of a biped.
The hand at your side trembles and a lump forms in your throat. You’re certain this had to be one of the things that has been terrorizing both Piltover and the Undercity. A breeze sweeps in from behind you and towards the beast. It raises its snout, sniffing at the air and you realize too late that it’s just picked up on your scent. You’re frozen with fear when Its head slowly turns in your direction and its glowing, purple eyes meet your own. Large rows of teeth, including two pairs of deadly sharp canines, glisten in the moonlight as its face contorts into a snarl.
Shit.
Pulling your pistol from its sheath, you take aim just as the beast lurches toward you. You pull the trigger and at a mere twenty or so feet from your target you manage to hit its front right shoulder. The howl of pain that rips from its throat is unlike any animal you’ve ever heard, and to your terror the beast is quick to return to pursuing you.
Fuck.
Firing again, you manage to hit the other shoulder and this time you spring to your feet, ready to flee. Another yelp echoes through the forest, but it still moves forward, quickly closing the distance.
A third shot behind your back as you begin running with limited vision through the dark forest. Eyes focused on the ground before you, you don’t watch for the hit, but you hear another howl and know it at least landed, but the heavy patter of large paws crushing the foliage behind you indicates it still wasn’t enough to take it out.
Heart hammering in your chest, you fire several more rounds blindly behind your back, apparently missing as there are no more cries of pain, just a series of terrifying snarls and growls that are gaining fast.
With your mind racing in panic, you lose track of how many bullets you fire, and to your absolute dread you find the gun now empty. Stomach churning you attempt to pull your rifle off your back. It’s not suitable for close quarters like this, but you are literally out of options. Before you can manage to get the damn safety off it you lose your footing, tripping on a large tree root that you couldn’t see.
A startled yelp tears from your open mouth as you find yourself falling face first to the ground. The side of your head hits something hard and unforgiving and for a fraction of a second you see white behind your lids. Attempting to scramble to your feet, pure adrenaline is the only thing powering you as your lungs burn and your head spins. Then something slices across your back, shearing right through your jacket and top, tearing flesh like it's made of nothing more than wet tissue paper.
The shriek of pain that rips from your throat echoes through your ringing ears. Collapsing to the ground again, your hands reach blindly for the rifle you’d dropped during your fall. Tears fill your eyes and the dark objects that surround you spin and careen, making your stomach lurch.
Somehow, miraculously, you manage to find your gun. Grabbing it by the barrel with one hand, you roll onto your opposite side, swinging as hard as you can towards the beast now crawling over your feet. The butt of it lands hard against the jaw of the snarling animal from where it towers over your legs. Saliva and blood fly from its mouth, but it quickly recovers. Watching in complete shock, your heart plummets to your stomach as it rises, crouching on hind legs that are certainly not like any animal, nor human, you've ever seen. Pushing yourself up into a sitting position, you struggle to right your rifle. The beast raises a front paw that looks far more like a hand, only with razor sharp claws, and swings faster than your dizzy mind can process, but you feel and hear the gun leave your hands and scatter some distance to your side. Frozen in terror and without any other defense, all you can do is close your eyes when that giant paw pulls back for another swipe, and await what you hope will be a deadly blow so as to end this quickly.
A sudden growl followed by a pained, animalistic yelp hits your ears and your eyes fly open just in time to see a second, larger beast just inches from your feet. Its attention, thankfully, is not on you, rather it appears to be snarling at the first which is now several feet away and limping in a defensive arch around you and its attacker. Leaning back on your palms, you attempt to scoot further away from what is certain to be a brutal fight between these two creatures. Vision blurring and body aching, you're only able to get far enough to lean your left shoulder against the base of a tree, careful to avoid the gaping gashes that spread clear from your right shoulder down to just above the left side of your waist. A sudden sharp throb at the side of your head has you touching it gingerly. It's wet, with blood no doubt, right where you'd hit it when you fell. You're most likely concussed, yet another mark against you on this cursed night.
As the second beast circles around the first, you catch a glimpse of something odd in the small beam of moonlight that filters through the treetops. The front left leg, or as you're starting to consider it- arm- is neither human nor animal. Not flesh or organic by any means. It's… metal . Clear from the hand-like fingers to the shoulder, it's entirely metal, reflecting in the light of the moon.
What the hell have you uncovered?
Unable to tear your eyes away, you watch in awe and horror as this larger beast lunges at the first. Between your fading consciousness and their gruesome fight moving further into the shadows of the trees, you're unable to make out which one is winning. Not that it matters. You're dead either way. But you can certainly hear that one is fairing far better than the other. Though both are clearly the same type of creature, you can pick up on obvious differences in their snarls, growls and whines. It all seems to happen so fast, but your fear leaves you unable to grasp time. Not long after the battle disappears further into the trees and completely out of your sight, you hear a final animalistic cry of pain and then everything goes eerily silent. It isn't until that moment that you realize your breathing has become dangerously shallow. You're barely holding onto consciousness, and as you watch only one beast emerge, it starts slipping faster.
Head falling limp against the side of the tree you're barely leaning against, your glazed over eyes struggle to track the slow, stalking movements of the victor. Moonlight streams first across its left hand, which reflects back. It's the second beast. It steps closer still, revealing bared teeth dripping with saliva and blood. Body so completely numb, you can't even feel fear anymore and your eyelids become unbearably heavy.
You blink.
It's at your feet, sharp canines ready to bite.
You blink again.
It's over your legs, its deep growl reverberating through your entire body.
One final blink.
All your clouded vision can make out is the terrifying glow of two purple eyes mere inches from your face, but you feel the wet, warm sensation spill down the front of your neck and beneath your shirt as that mixture of blood and saliva drips from the beast's mouth. Just before your lids drop, you swear you catch those eyes turning gray for just a second as the moonlight disappears behind the clouds.
Unable to open your eyes, your ears ring with the pained howl that erupts from the creature and somehow dissolves into a human's- a woman's- deep pained groan that grows quieter and quieter, until everything fades to black.
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bloodydesires-if · 10 months
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Can you tell us more about werewolves and witches?
Sure. I'm going to break up shifters and werewolves since they are different in this world. Kieran is a shifter and a wolf but there are some key differences, noted below.
Witches
There are 100s of covens, although not all witches are a part of them.
Witch is the term used for everyone regardless of identity (there are no warlocks, wizards, etc).
There are three important aspects of knowledge for witches: ritual magic (relying on special locations or events & magical artifacts), elemental magic (relying on nature), and potion-brewing.
There is a cost to more advanced magic. Sometimes the user bears that, other times someone else does.
Witches believe there is no bad magic, only bad witches.
Witches can energizes their magic from other supernaturals for a temporary time (minutes). Only experienced witches should attempt this as it can be fatal for the supernatural otherwise...of course, that may be the intended purpose for some.
Shifters
Shifters live a normal human life until the age of seventeen, when their spirit animal makes themself known. It begins in the dreamworld.
Shifters take on many forms. Kieran shifts into a wolf. Other forms include lions, birds, bears, and panthers.
When they shift, it is still them. A person retains their thoughts and feelings. However, if one is shifted for too long, the animal spirit and instincts can begin to take over. It is not recommended to stay in one's animal form for more than five straight hours, as it can be difficult to convince the spirit animal to give control back...
Shifting too often in a short amount time can be extremely painful. For example, three separate times in 24hrs.
The supernatural qualities of a shifter will vary depending on form. For wolves, like Kieran, they have superior strength.
All shifters stop aging around their 30s. The oldest known shifter lived into their 700s. They died in battle, so it's not exactly known if there is an average lifespan or if they can live to be immortal.
Shifters heal two times faster than humans, but slower than vampires and werewolves.
Werewolves
Werewolves live in packs scattered across the world. Lone wolves are looked down upon, but are not hunted (unless they attempt to cause problems).
You can be born a werewolf or turned into one by another wolf.
Werewolves can only shift under the full moon and they cannot control it. They will shift. It is quite painful.
They have advanced healing capabilities and strength, in both forms (this is the same with shifters). Some shifters are stronger. It depends on the type of shifter and the type of wolf. For example, an Alpha is stronger than any shifter.
Werewolves and Vampires have had a peace treaty in effect for a few hundred years. Some are friends with each other, some despise each other. But fighting is forbidden so most attempt to stay out of each other's way. After all, they are both hunted...
Werewolves do not have a wolf spirit or anything like that, they are in full control of their mind when in form.
Thanks for the ask!
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alphasunpup · 23 days
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realize it was getting close to the new moon and I wanted to post before then. At least spice things up a bit and not just post on a new moon or full moon 😂
I was watching Beauty and the Beast (the 1991 because it's clearly the superior) and I was thinking about what would happen with Belle and Beast post ending the curse and being married. First off I think that the Beast should've been more beastly??? Like the curse was about to become final and my poor nigga went through puberty as a beast, yeah he should've been more beastly, kinda like a werewolf stuck in a half shifted form (slightly pointy ears, black nails that look like claws, canines sharp as a wolf, incisors almost like tusks). Also should've been WAY more hairy and disheveled looking. Anyway I think after them ending the curse but the beast still looking a little beastly he's nervous to go out in public so he typically hunts for the castle. And I just think it would be cute that belle brings him out to the market square and he can sniff out the best meats. Or he knows when the baker is lying about the pastries being fresh. Pretty much Belle and Beast should get fat after Belle saves beasts life, ends the curse because Beast would have the abilities of a bloodhound and know how to get them the good shit. Also Belle teaching Beast how to cook instead of eating just raw meat (he still does it after learning how to cook for himself. She allows it cause she loves him 😊).
Thank you for coming to my ted talk 😌
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evilpenguinrika · 7 months
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Hosie Fankids
i realized i never actually shared my hosie fankids stuff aside from the four fanarts and 1 wip I've posted (x) (x) (x) (x), and recently my hosie and hosie fankids ffxiv post
i also don't have art of Leo yet since I'm still figuring out his character design. but hopefully once i do, i'll draw up a picture of Lana, Hayley, Jay, and Leo together and maybe a family portrait with Hope and Josie too
So anyways, here's a rundown of my hosie fankids for anyone interested!
Edit Nov 22, 2023: had to fix the werewolf curse bit because I just found out that it doesn't work if you kill a vampire whoops
//
(note: Lana and the twins were carried by Josie!)
//
Lana Elizabeth Mikaelson (17) is the firstborn to Hope and Josie Mikaelson. She, like her mom Hope, is a Tribrid. Maybe even more powerful than Hope. Lana is very stubborn and as well as incredibly aloof. Because of her status as a Mikaelson and a Tribrid, she's always surrounded by people wanting to use her notoriety. Lana will mostly shun people away and would never bother with making friends, believing that creating relationships is a waste of time. She's incredibly studious and prides herself on her flawless school records and high GPA. Lana also has a bit of a superiority complex as well, and because of that, is the prime reason why Lana never really has any friends (not that she cared, to be honest). However that may be, Lana is fiercely protective and loyal to those she cares about. She will fight tooth and nail to ensure that her loved ones are safe–even if it means destroying the world to do so.
Before she was born, Josie (who had been the one carrying) had used an enormous amount of dark magic in a fight against Malivore that Lana somehow absorbed while in the womb. Since then, Lana has always been a powerful witch. So powerful that sometimes she's unable to control it, almost like a magic bomb. Magic has always come easy to her and has always used magic since it manifested when she was just two years old. There had been an enemy attack at her home and her magic manifested to protect her and her momma, Josie. Lana's magic often comes in the form of black-purple briars/brambles. 
Lana ends up unlocking her werewolf curse after her magic went out of control in an attempt to protect her, the twins, and–at this point–Lana’s friend when the four of them got abducted by some enemies (unsure regular humans or witches or werewolves) looking to hurt Hope. When Lana realizes she had killed someone, she locks herself away in a fit of rage and fear. Lana may be a Tribrid, but she never really wanted the complicated perks that came with it should she ever become a fully activated Tribrid. So when her curse is activated, she did her best to shove that side of herself away. It doesn’t really work and only causes her strife. It gets so bad that she refuses to shift during the full moon. Hope eventually drags Lana out to talk to her about being a werewolf and–since they are both Tribrids–to discuss further what it means to be a Tribrid. It helps Lana to process this new moment in her life, but it is actually a moment with Hayley that truly opens Lana’s eyes to accepting her werewolf side and ultimately her Tribrid nature. She and Hayley have been on the search for some enemies that rolled into town and discovered the enemies had captured Jay and Lana’s friend. In an attempt to save them, Lana unleashes her full werewolf potential as she fights alongside her werewolf sister. Lana feels so much better and so much lighter after embracing this side of her that when the next full moon comes around, she asks if she could join her mom and sister on a full moon run–which Hope and Hayley obviously agree to.
As of now, Lana has not activated her vampire side and chooses not to do so. She has so much of the world to see and wants to experience her life before she even humours the idea of dying and becoming a fully activated Tribrid.
[Physical description: 5'7.5", long copper red hair and brown eyes] 
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Hayley Nikole Mikaelson (15) is the second born to Hope and Josie Mikaelson. She is also the twin sister of Jay (she's older than him by 6 minutes and will always lord it over him). Hayley is a spunky and sassy teenager who has mastered the craft of sarcasm. She's also headstrong but is also the type of person to act before thinking. She will always stand up for those who can't do it themselves and isn't opposed to using violence to do so. Because she's trained with Hope, Hayley is an incredibly strong fighter her rough and aggressive fighting styles are all the talk amongst the werewolves at Salvatore. But regardless of her tough exterior, Hayley is also incredibly sensitive when it comes to herself. If she were to hear any mean gossip or critique about her or the things she's doing, Hayley will end up feeling broken down. She does hide her feelings well through frustration and anger, but her family and anyone who knows her best will know that Hayley is devastatingly upset.
She never inherited the magic genes, but instead, is a werewolf. She used to feel inferior and compare herself to Lana, Jay, and her mom and momma because they can all do magic except for her. Hayley always wished her magic would manifest, but it never did. When she unlocked her werewolf curse at the age of six after accidentally killing one of Klaus's and by extension, Hope's, enemies, she had been scared–very scared. But Hope helped Hayley overcome that fear and eventually, become a strong werewolf. She still sometimes feels jealous of the rest of her family for having magic, but through years of training and honing her skills, Hayley has come to love just being a werewolf. She, like her twin brother, has vampire blood running in her veins.
Hayley and Jay have been made aware of the Merge. Hope and Josie have been doing their best to figure out a way to stop it, or at the very least figure out if the Merge would even be possible since Hayley’s magic never manifested.
[Physical description: 5'6", medium curly dark brown hair and blue eyes]
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Josiah "Jay" Carson Mikaelson (15) is the second born (or technically third born) to Hope and Josie Mikaelson. He is also the twin brother to Hayley (he absolutely hates it when Hayley brags about being the older one). Jay is a sassy and sarcastic teenager who has a knack for getting into trouble. He can also be rather rambunctious and all over the place when he gets antsy or feels excited. Jay gets flustered way too easily, especially when it comes to himself. He turns red anytime anyone compliments or praises him for something–and when it comes to boys, Jay is hopelessly awkward. Jay, like his sisters, will always help those in need and does his best to ensure that the people he cares about are looked after.
Like his momma, Josie, Jay is a Siphoner. He loves using magic and loves being a Siphoner. Sure he would need to siphon magic from people or magical objects, but he likes the challenge. He likes that he can't always rely on magic to help him out of a pinch; this is also why he ended up asking Hope to train him in hand-to-hand combat like she did with Hayley. When Jay was younger, he did gymnastics and a few contemporary dance lessons, which gave him the idea to incorporate those movements into his fighting style. Whenever he fights close combat or melee, it's like the whole battlefield is his stage and he's the performer putting on a show. Josie is the one to teach Jay how to harness his magic, especially dark magic. She makes it a point to tell him to never put the residual darkness into a dark object. His magic tends to manifest as streaks of lightning and bright electricity. He, like his twin sister, has vampire blood running in his veins.
Jay and Hayley have been made aware of the Merge. Hope and Josie have been doing their best to figure out a way to stop it, or at the very least figure out if the Merge would even be possible since Hayley’s magic never manifested.
[Physical description: 5'5", short dirty-blonde hair and brown eyes]
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Leo Morgan Mikaelson (10) is the adopted son of Hope and Josie Mikaelson. He is also the youngest of the Mikaelson siblings: being seven years younger than Lana, and five years younger than the twins. Leo is a very sweet, earnest, and cheerful boy who is also very sensitive to things and the world around him. He’s an overthinker when he’s upset or anxious and will tend to choose his words carefully or just not speak entirely if he decides it’s not worth it. But when he’s excited or happy, he can talk forever. He pretty much wears his heart on his sleeves so it’s easy to know what he’s feeling and thinking–but it’s also very easy for him to get hurt. Leo is practically doted on by the rest of his siblings as he is the baby of the family. He doesn’t mind it, per se, but it does become stifling and embarrassing when he gets older. 
The couple had found a young five years old Leo in an alley around downtown Mystic Falls. He had been hiding behind some old cardboard boxes when a vampire and witch chased him and his parents down. They took the wrong turn and found themselves trapped. His parents ushered Leo to hide while the two assailants murdered his parents. Josie was determined to look after Leo, despite Hope's chagrin. Hope and Josie eventually become really taken with Leo and vowed to protect him as the culprits who killed his parents were still after him as Leo was a loose end. After Hope and Josie deal with the two culprits, they decide to fully adopt Leo, and the young boy was ecstatic but felt bittersweet about it. He still loves his parents even if his memories of them have been scarce the older he gets, but he appreciates and loves his new parents and family. He’s glad that Hope and Josie found him and saved him.
Being the only human in a family of supernaturals has made Leo feel inferior, especially whenever he sees his siblings performing magic or turning into wolves, or hearing about whatever adventure or battle they had. It gets to the point where whenever he wants to join them or hear more about what they have going on, his siblings would brush him aside because he’s just a human. Leo wants to desperately join the rest of his family in the supernatural world so he goes to both Hope and Josie, asking if they could teach him magic. Obviously, it doesn’t work as he has no magic, but what he is able to do is continue to educate himself and learn all he can. His specialty is potion making–specifically ones that don’t require him to have to say a spell to activate them. He does get some help from his moms and Lana and Jay though.
[Physical description: 4’5.7”, short dark brown/black hair and brown eyes]
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greentrickster · 2 years
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I have a question about your spooky aa au: in what situations does Miles turn into his wolf form? Does he only do this when protecting or comforting (or intimidating?) someone/for his own comfort, or is it something of daily occurance with little fanfare? Are there situations when turning or using your powers is not socially approved?
(Sorry for taking forever to get to these, I'm afraid I just wasn't in the mood and thus couldn't until now. :/ )
Anyway, in regards to Miles's wolf form and transforming: he's compelled to change during the full moon (all werewolves and were-beings whose transformations are connected to the moon are). It takes more effort to transform with moonlight from any other phase of the moon, more still to transform without any moonlight, and the most effort to transform in full, direct sunlight, but they're all doable. It's similar to the difference between covering ten feet of ground by walking versus jogging, running, or sprinting.
In regards to Miles himself, he transforms during the full moon because, again, doesn't really have a choice. Outside of that, however, he tends to transform at night most often, because he prefers the scent of the night air, and in the company of someone he trusts if at all possible. The latter is because, as mentioned in a previous post, while Miles always has aspects of both human and wolf in how he thinks and acts, his humanity tends to be noticeably more pronounced when he's in human form, and his lupine nature is more pronounced in wolf form - that's just how it works for his breed of werewolf. So he likes to have someone around to help act as a fail safe to make sure he doesn't go too wolfy or feral by accident. Prior to DL-6 being solved, he avoided sleeping in wolf form if he could, because his more lupine mind handled the nightmares very poorly. After it's solved and he's had some therapy, however, he starts using it to sleep more often, just because it's easier to get comfortable (this is actually very common for were-beings in this universe).
In regards to transforming in public: there are a few variables. Firstly, regardless of anything else, it's considered very rude for an adult to shift without giving a general sort of heads-up (kids get more flexibility because they're still learning, but you're expected to have a grasp on what you're doing and how you work in this aspect by the time you're reaching young adulthood, 16-18ish). Factoring into this is that some were-beings' clothes transform with them, while others do not. Miles is lucky in this aspect - he can go from fully-clothed man, to wolf, to fully-clothed man again with no trouble.
Agent Lang, in contrast, has to be more careful, because he will shred his clothes or put strain on his joints if he isn't. For example, Miles can announce he's going to transform at a crime scene, change into a wolf to take advantage of his superior sense of smell, and then change back. Agent Lang, meanwhile, could announce he's going to change and do a partial shift, but if he wants to go completely lupine to get the full advantage, he'd have to tell someone what he's doing, go somewhere private, strip, change, come back, do his thing, go back to his clothes, change back, get dressed, and then come back. It should also be noted that, while not fully universal, in 90% of cases were-beings with two disparate forms, like Miles, have their clothes shift with them, and about 92% of those with finer control over what proportion of human and wolf they are physically, like Agent Lang, do not have their clothes shift with them. Arcane and mad scientists still don't know why this is, and they really want to.
Another thing that's important is to wear a visible collar with some form of ID on it if you're a were-being and planning to stay in a fully non-human shape for an extended period of time. It's partially manners, more to help distinguish transformed were-beings from, say, a regular wolf or bear. This helps people confirm whether something was done by a random animal or a person in non-human form - a werewolf killing and stealing one of your chickens is still theft that you can press charges for, but by the same token shooting said werewolf for stealing chickens is still murder. There are, of course, people who ignore these rules for whatever reason, but most people stick to this one, or at least wear a noticeable collar, in the event they don't want to be running around wearing a name tag. The collars and tags are made in a few different ways by magic-users, mad scientists, and alchemists, and contain special properties so that they don't transform with the rest of a were-being's clothes.
Side note, were-being officials of any sort - police, firefighters, security - are required by law to wear an obvious collar with full name and a clear, distinct badge tag on it when transformed. Failure to do so is extremely illegal, and also will get you stigmatized in the majority of the were-being community, on a pretty much universal level. Lots of people over the centuries have used their non-human forms to get away with crimes and horrors, to the detriment of all were-beings, and they're just flat-out Not Having It.
In regards to times it isn't appropriate to use one's transformation powers, basically any time you're doing something creepy or illegal, but otherwise not hugely. Were-beings have been a known fact of life for the majority of human history in this world, same as vampires, goblins, ghosts, magic-users, harpies, and what-have-you. Like, don't turn into a wolf and go running through the mall or anything like that, but nothing particularly huge or noteworthy.
Though, it is interesting to note, in this world animal-related allergies are pretty much non-existent.
...whew, I had more to say about this than I thought I did! And I wanted to mention some stuff for vampires as well, maybe some goblin stuff since Kay's half goblin on her dad's side in this and I love her.
Thanks for the ask!
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the-institute-promos · 6 months
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➤ OPEN CHARACTER: MIA, 57, PROFESSOR, SHAPESHIFTER
FULL NAME: Mia Archer NICKNAME(S): Up to player PRONOUNS: She/Her BIRTHDAY: Up to player AGE: 57, appears 30 STATUS: Professor SUBJECT: Up to player SPECIES: Shapeshifter SPECIAL POWERS: None SEXUALITY: Up to player I AM A: Up to player I WANT A: Up to player TURN-ONS: Up to player TURN-OFFS: Up to player
➤ BIOGRAPHY
Mia graduated university at 26 with a master’s degree, her future ahead of her. She felt ready to take on the world, and Mia’s life really would have been amazing… if she hadn’t happened to attend The Institute for Advanced Learning as a grant student. She started detecting changes in herself not long after returning home. Heightened senses, speed, strength… and a strangely explosive temper that she didn’t remember developing on her own. With no idea what was happening to her, Mia did her best to keep the changes to herself. She didn’t know much, but she did know that sharing these changes with anyone likely wouldn’t be the smartest thing. She did her best to get a handle on her ‘improvements’ and move on with her life, but her progress was cut short when she discovered her new boyfriend cheating on her. The discovery resulted in what could only be described as a blood bath. Mia still remembers nothing of the encounter in between seeing the pair of them making out, and seeing them mauled, her own clothes soaked in their blood. This was the first time Mia saw her own claws… and what they could do. It terrified her. Convinced that she was a monster, and that something must have happened to make her this way, Mia abandoned her human life. The last thing she wanted was for whatever possessed her to harm anyone else. Scared of herself, scared of what she might do, and therefore scared for anyone who came into contact with her, Mia isolated herself. She kept out of cities, only venturing into populated areas to steal necessities like clothes and food. She showered whenever she could find a house in the middle of nowhere, often watching the place until she knew everyone had left. Then she’d sneak in. It was hardly a life, and certainly not what she’d envisioned for herself, but it was safer than the alternative. Mia’s life didn’t change again until 13 years later, when she met Arielle; another werepanther. She caught her trying to sneak out of her house after a shower, her superior age and control easily overpowering Mia’s inexperience. At first, she mocked Mia’s clumsy attempt at fighting her, the fact that she seemed barely able to use any of the gifts she’d been given when she was turned. Mia’s confusion, however, brought her pause long enough to listen – and to explain. In the following months, Arielle told Mia everything she knew; what she was, how to use her abilities, how to shift at will, how to work on controlling the shift, and how to tricker her memory if she did happen to black out. The only question Arielle didn’t seem able to answer became the only thing Mia could focus on: How had she been turned? Arielle could explain the process, but not why Mia remembered nothing of it, not who had turned her, nor the why, the when or the where of it. Mia’s obsession caused her to eventually leave her mentor. She spent the next many years seeking answers, pursuing any lead she got, and although they were most often dead ends, Mia never gave up. It was only a few years ago that Mia came across a former class mate, a werewolf who’d been a Master at the Institute. He eventually revealed the truth to her: Mia had been a human slave at the Institute until another Master, a werepanther, had taken a liking to her and had grown possessive. He’d turned her, but she’d been bound by the Institute almost immediately following her transformation. A few years later, she’d graduated, and her memory of all things supernatural and slavery-related had been wiped – including her own new genetic makeup. All that somehow redeemed the story she was told, was the fact that the werepanther who’d turned her had died not long after graduating. Part angry and part curious, but wanting desperately to find out more about her secret past, Mia applied for a position as a professor in her field.
➤ PERSONALITY
✚ Resilient, caring, independent ▬ Stubborn, temperamental, cynical
➤ ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS
None
➤ FACE CLAIM & OOC INFO
Mia’s faceclaim is Leighton Meester. // Could Mia be right for you?
Bio written by Mel.
The Institute - Plot - Rules - Ask - Apply
The Institute is a supernatural master/slave roleplay established in 2015, set at a prestigious university on a tropical island--a prestigious university with some dark secrets.
Our long-term NPC headmaster has just been killed, and we are rolling out big IC changes--new worldbuilding, new in character rules, new locations, and new open characters! Join us today to be part of our revamp!
CURRENT BANS: NONE
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the-berf · 7 months
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Be(a)st Days
New York had been a mistake. Carmy regretted it near enough every day but never for the reason people suspected. Sure, he could have done without the stress, the abuse, the throwing up. But most of all he could have done without being turned into a fucking werewolf. Why Chef had singled him out was beyond him. It was all a bit of a blur, the memory lost between not wanting to remember it and not actually being able to recall it. There was something about being of the same cloth, of Carmy being his successor, of sharpened senses and unparallelled drive. To Carmy it was utter bullshit. All he knew was the pain of the bite and all the shit that came after.
Lycanthropy wasn't quite as the horror stories made it out. Full moons were definitely inconvenient but nowhere near the fabled compulsion to shift. Not once did Carmy go on a rampage through New York though he did get a visit from his landlord after someone complained about hearing a dog howling in his flat.
Rather than help him, Chef goaded him, ground Carmy down until he was nothing more than a burnt cigarette stub under the heel of an expensive shoe. As much as he didn't want to admit it, it did help. The constant war of wanting to retaliate but knowing he couldn't, of being told he was worthless and insignificant, it all helped keep control. Chef's words were poison but it eroded wolf and human at the same time until Carmy was just as apt at muting himself without Chef. Neither human or wolf, he was a husk, nothing more than a puppet that followed orders and ran the kitchen.
Going back to Chicago was another mistake. The absolute control Carmy thought he had wasn't quite as solid as he wanted to believe. Without Chef there to remind him of his place, Carmy snapped and snarled more. He yelled, lost his temper, became territorial of the expo - especially when close to full moon. But nobody was allowed to know. If they found out, Carmy didn't know what would happen and he couldn't risk it.
Quashing it all down, trying to hold back while still using the wolf's superior sense of smell, Carmy struggled. Adrift and alone, he was steadily losing grip of himself. The sleep walking got worse as he tried to keep himself under control. The one time he let himself shift to try and run some of the rage off, he ended up vomiting road kill and had to get flea treatment for his flat.
So things at The Beef got more and more heated, Carmy yelled more, smoked more and itched to just let it rip. The bastardised use of the words Mikey used to say burned. On some nights whenhe couldn't sleep, Carmy wondered whether Mikey had been turned too and that was why everything had gone the way it did.
Hatered for Chef grew with each day and Carmy had never felt more alone. Before Chef bit him he had already been alone but now there was a gnawing sensation of absolute solitude. Something was missing but he didn't know what. Until Syd walked through the doors of The Beef. Carmy's teeth itched to bite and he suddenly understood Chef.
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holysound · 8 months
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Werewolves were supposed to keep with their own kind. Lessons taught. Lessons learned. Lessons oft ignored. Although James did not believe all werewolves were superior or that each were his kin, he felt he could become himself around them. What did other creatures know about the shift. He was mixing likes with a demon and wielder of magic. One trait alone should have led both men to opposite sides of the world.
Wolves did not meddle in the affairs of demons, yet James' blood was moving hot through his veins and the full moon was days away.
There was an intoxication, a desire which was undeniable and went against the laws of nature. James however was never a wolf to keep to conformity, and the wolf hungered tonight. If he was to be manhandled by the demon, well... let it be a demon who desired him as much as he desired it. James may have stripped off his clothes and feasted on the meat of a fresh kill deep into the woods, otherwise he was a smartly dressed man. Armani trousers, blazer, silk shirt, midnight blue tie... it was too fucking hot under the heat of Cyrus' hands. The werewolf need them off. Promptly.
Fortunately the other man was happy to oblige.
James' eyes harbor lust while his lips are twisted into a predatory and needy grin. Palm at his cock, even though clothes, elicits a response in the physical and verbal. The werewolf groaned low and heated, and his hips jerked forward to press himself closer to Cyrus. He felt as if the heat off his erection could burn through his clothes. He was no magic wielder however. Was Cyrus capable of doing that? A thought shoved in the back of his head as his own hands moved to rip the shirt from Cyrus' torso.
His touch is not shy. Both men work to undo the other's clothing and with Cyrus undoing James' tie and button-down, he felt like he could breathe. With shirt undone and stripped from his muscular shoulders, James' hands moved around to take the demon's ass cheeks into his palms for a firm grope. He pulled him closer if only to intensify the heat between their bodies. / @coivi
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placeabo · 2 years
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A stake, both wooden and an amalgamation of rudimentary metals, the tears of a witch, several vials of dried herbs, a bear trap, and silver bullets . . even sealed and incased in a velvet pouch within an oak box irritated a werewolf’s keen senses. Preparation was key, anticipation on the heels of shoes — the sole tools in the mental arsenal which enabled the Hale’s return from the dead. Peter Hale was all rushing blood, a beast’s heart thundering hard and powerful, thus it wasn’t his own death which was the subject matter in need of such dense preparations. 
The witches tears alone were thirty years in the making, and it was a damn shame all the torture endured collecting an entire vial’s worth would be ultimately used for the sake of Beacon Hill’s residents. Peter, of course, was one of those residents, too, however admitting that he required the tremendous use of weaponry acted as a dagger of weakness twisting within his belly. The full moon was a night away, and at the height of the day, the Californian sun proved brilliant and insufferable. The blinds in the living room and kitchen were shut entirely, as though the momentary darkness could trick his inner wolf that darkness prevailed; it aided the werewolf’s focus in a pseudo meditative state. 
Breath was steady, lids partially closed over hues, and fingers danced across the various items set before him upon the wooden floor. Methodical. Silent. Werewolf healing worked aptly beneath the various bandages covering his bare arms and thick-set neck until the very sensation of leaking blood stopped. Skin stitched together, though the pain of a bruised ego remained. Heels clicking against the wooden floor amplified with the closure of distance, and his eyeballs shifted quickly beneath his lids when the intrusion penetrated his focus until lids opened. 
It was still too bright in the room. Broad shoulders sagged a degree, and it wasn’t long after an exasperated breath left his nostrils. Car keys in her hand and judgement in her eyes. ‘Don’t do anything stupid until I get back’. Peter was too old to roll his eyes, instead his lips peeled apart in a sarcastic smile. One slip up, and Lydia suddenly acted like his guardian, like his superior. The banshee shouldn’t have been so casual to go out, even in the daylight, but the werewolf wasn’t about to spark another argument.
❝  The stupid things typically occur when you and your friends are around, but I’ll behave.  ❞    
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▸ 𝑯𝑶𝑾𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑶𝑵  .  .  .  . .     ❛ don’t do anything stupid until i get back. ❜    𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈  @thatprettylittlething​  .  .  .    〈 torture and violent roleplay prompts 〉
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mylittleangelxxx · 3 years
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So... we know that the FBI were after Derek in S6B. And we know that Stiles was shocked to see Derek on the video. We also know that at least one of them was lying about how they rescued each other.
We also now that Stiles’s whole being thrives off of mischief. He loves it, he’s a snarky, sarcastic, mischief-making little asshole. We also know that Derek -  at some point - unlocked the Evolved Shift by the time he saw his abuser again.
Imagine Derek hearing whispers of Stiles being a FBI trainee. He’s being run all over the county/country. He also protects Stiles whenever he can. He’s self-sacrificing, and loves to goad his enemies (It’s a Hale trait.) He also knows how effective hiding under everyone’s noses is (he’s seen it with Peter, Jennifer etc.)
So he hunts down Stiles. Stiles who has just found out that Derek is on the run - again - and poor Stiles goes to wherever his lodging is while  he’s training under the FBI. And no matter how much training Stiles has had at this point, he’s an anxious mess. Because it’s Derek in everyone’s crosshairs again. So he enters his room in a daze. And hears a cough (Derek has learnt from his early days.)
He spins around and there Derek is, behind his damn door like old times. Eyebrow raised, calm as you like, as if he has all the time in the world and the FBI wouldn’t drag him away in handcuffs.
Stiles is panicking, obviously, because this is no longer him just getting a slap on the wrist if everyone finds Derek in his room. This is serious stuff. He’s pacing and rambling about how much danger they are both in (Derek’s rolling his eyes because honestly when did the danger leave them?)
And then Stiles stops, his eyes widen and they are sparkling with laughter and pure mischief.
“Hey, were you ever able to achieve the Evolved Shift?”
Derek’s eyebrows furrow into wary confusion. “Yes?” he questions slowly, looking at Stiles, wondering if it’s worth taking the risk with the FBI that is all around both of them.
“Show me.”
Derek huffs but he knows Stiles won’t shut up about it until he does it. He’s also a little smug and wants to show off. So he shifts.
“Stay right there.” Stiles bolts out of the room. And Derek, well he’s full wolf and he doesn’t want to cause a panic. So he curls up on Stiles’s bed.  If he rolls aroiund in Stiles’s scent, well that’s his business.
Stiles is back with his superior officer and Derek’s eyes widen, because what the hell Stiles? But Stiles is fully in his element. He pulls up all these internet pages on the trainability of wolves. “Yes, sir I know wolves are more trainable when they’re pups. Yes, sir I understand that. Yes sir, it’ll take more work, but I’m willing to do it. I’m willing to take the challenge. No, sir I’m not crazy - well, I suppose actually that that’s a matter of opinion. But the work isn’t engaging me sir, not the way it needs to. And my dad would be so disappointed in me flunking out of my dream job. I’d be disappointed. And I’ve always wanted to work with the K-9 unit, sir.”
Stiles’s superior just sighs, throws his hands in the air, and tiredly nods.
And Stiles? He’s luminous. And Derek? He never doubted that his favourite human would be able to do whatever he set his mind to. Not anymore.
And that’s how Derek Hale, fugitive Evolved Werewolf, works within the FBI K-9 Unit. His name? Why, Miguel of course.
(Peter laughs himself sick when he hears, once the War has been won.)
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itsrubberbisquit · 3 years
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Stories that really butter my biscuits
Explicit/Kink // Smutty // PG-13 // Gen
This is a recent rec list; there's TONS of writers and stories I'm missing and if you're one of them I'm so sorry! Link me your stuff so I can read it! I want all the rec lists *grabby hands*.
Presented alphabetically. Ensemble has multiple chapters with individual characters. Multi has multiple characters within the individual chapters. Most everything is smut. Please read the warnings listed on the stories.
August Walker
Stuck (series) from @angryschnauzerwrites You're August Walker's maid and you run into a little trouble while putting the sheets back on the bed. There's a second part two that falls nicely into a bit of a sugar daddy arrangement. AND, for those Marvel fans, she wrote a Steve Rogers version. x Reader
When We Were Pirates from @hope-to-hell Yarrggggggg. Some sexy pirate!Walker in which he's captured you and will tie you up and have his filthy way with you. x Reader
Dream State (series) from @hope-to-hell This whole thing is a journey, literally, to find August Walker at his very best and his very worst. It's beautiful and visceral and poetic and brutal. Multi-chapter, Gore warning. x Reader
End of the World (Series) from @hope-to-hell Linked to AO3 because it's easier to read it in order. This is a huge, giant what-if of August making it through that fall and coming back. There's a lot more. Gore warning. x Reader
Ethan Hunt Must Die from @thetaoofzoe My favorite August. Broke but not broken. The protagonist is a wonderful tool for him to manipulate into his ultimate revenge. x Reader
The Hand and the Hammer from @thetaoofzoe Reader is sent after August one last time and things don't go the way her bosses would like. Sadly for them she and August have some shit to get up to. Sexy and fun. x Reader
Ensemble
Sock's Dirty 30 (series) from @thelastsock You ever run into a collection so wonderful and amazing that you can just go back and reread it over and over? Yeah, that's this one. This contains 30+ drabbles of various characters.
Blackwater Lake (series) from @angryschnauzerwrites Cavill characters as mythical creatures. There's Werewolf!Sy, and Shapeshifter!Geralt, and Vampire!Walter, and August is there too with his Nymph girlfriend. OFCs/Friends. Link will take you to the most recent story but the rest are posted in order there as well.
Evan Marshall
Late Night Shift from @captainsy-cookiemonster This one was sweet and spicy. Evan can be a tough nut to crack but this is a great version. Reader is roommates with Evan and he catches her naked. Sex ensues. x Reader
Home By Saturday, or: For Evan, Whenever I May Find Him from @hope-to-hell A little snippet of Evan Marshall, demon hunter. x Reader
Geralt of Rivia
The Death of Me from @write-ur-wrongs OC keeps stealing contracts out from underneath a certain Witcher until she bites off more than she can chew. Lovely world building and even lovelier smut. x Reader
Seeing You Again from @bleufrost This one has so much wit and great set up. Reader helps out Geralt and he pays her back when he runs into her later that day. x Reader
Give Me Peace from @cinebration Geralt keeps running into the same Siren and finds a reason to let her live everytime. It was heart breaking and beautiful and touches on all the things that makes men monsters. x Reader
The Thief and the Witcher (series) from @suspiriana This one is a wild ride and has a little of everything for everyone. Geralt runs into a thief. I love how it folds so easily within the Witcher lore. x Reader
Henry Cavill
A Year of You (Series) from @notabronte Surprising no one I love a good slow burn, 135k friends-to-lovers opus. x OFC
I Would Do It Again (Series) from @foodie-for-thoughts Sexy Boss!Cavill AU that I think speaks to all our souls. x OFC
Last Night on the Plain/Superior Specimen (Series) from @angryschnauzerwrites AU. Field school would have been way cooler with a hot Grad!Student Cavill. First one is the tease and the second is a really sexy multi-part series. x Reader
Mr. Cavill, Your Dog is Fat from @keanureevesisbae A smart and sharp vet saves Kal with some help from her plucky, kid sidekick in this one. The writing is down to earth and real and I definitely binge read this one. Lots of extra content too. x OFC
Baby, Don't Hold Out (It's Cold Outside) (series) (AO3) from @thhimble My favorite Henry writer! I love her voice. This one is a Christmas fic (which will automatically make me weak) but also throws in a background of 'Best Friend Getting Married at Rural B&B' along with 'There Was Only One Bed'. A little tiny bit of not-quite-enemies to lovers. x Reader
You Should Know (You're More Than You Know) (series) (AO3) from @thhimble Sophie runs into Henry during her morning run at a hotel gym. Things . . . escalate. I keep coming back to this story. I've probably read it a half dozen times, usually when I need to lose hours of my life. Racheal is *SO FUCKING GOOD* at writing emotional turmoil. and Smut. But mostly those emotions get me going, every fucking time. Age difference, unsure narrator, REALLY great smut. I love it. I wanna live in it. x OFC
Immortal Sky (series) (A03) from @viking-raide Bet you didn't know you absolutely need an entire futuristic world scape AU featuring a gutter rat and a High Marshall Henry Cavill, did you? Well, buckle up kids because this one is the very definition of an adventure. x Reader
Mikey
Painted Red from @hope-to-hell Period sex with Mikey. I've never been one for blood play but this gets me every time. With Hope's Mikey it so fitting for the character. x Reader.
What Your Husband Can't Give You from @angryschnauzerwrites Who doesn't love a fixit for Mikey? Here he is, alive and well, shoveling driveways and enjoying what he truly loves, a MILF. x Reader
Christmas Sense (Series) from @hope-to-hell Five part series for Christmas. Fix-it that explores the way Mike is still broken after his ordeal and how he deals. x Reader
Multi
Pitching Tents from @angryschnauzerwrites Chris Evans x Female Reader x Henry Cavill (MFM). That's it. That's the description. x Reader
We've Got One Think in Common (It's This Tongue of Mine) from @thhimble Evans/Cavill/Reader. That scenario we all think about. What happens when you run into two incredibly attractive men in a bar? What happens when they don't want you to decide . . . they want to share? Fireworks. Explosions. The end of my sanity. x Reader
The Lakehouse from @hope-to-hell This was the second story I read from Hope and it knocked me fucking sideways. Absolutely floored me. There's such a good give and take between August and Walter. The dichotomy is just fucking delicious and I would like to be the filling in that sandwich.
Full Mast from @angryschnauzerwrites Some crack trashy romance novel pirate adventure time. Unf unf unf x Reader
Distraction from @angryschnauzerwrites You're on assignment with the CIA. Your team leader is August Walker and Will Shaw is the third agent assigned to the detail. A mission goes slightly awry and there's now sex pollen in the mix. Yes. It's real good. x Reader
To Live in the Moment from @hope-to-hell MobBoss!Will Shaw and August fucking Walker are fearsome on their own. Together, in bed with reader, they're dynamite. The dynamic of this pairing makes me gasp. I'm biased because it was my request but it's still really good, okay? x Reader
Sad and Lonely Boys (Series) (AO3) from @hope-to-hell Walter calls a phone sex line and things don't go the way you think they do. First couple are fluff and smoke and then Mike joins in. I believe this is the OG Mike/Walter/Reader set and the Writer!Mike verse splintered off. It's confusing. There's a lot of threesome is what I'm saying. x Reader
Purple as Anything (Series) (AO3) from @hope-to-hell Mike as a trashy romance writer with Reader and Walter providing inspiration. x Reader
Napoleon Solo
Cordial (Series) from @cinebration A really exceptionally Bougie Solo and a Reader who is a great foil to his snark. Solo has a mission that goes sidesways and has to deal with the fallout. x Reader
Cap’n Sy
Lone Star Dancing (series) from @jessinchains Semi-spooky sass x 100000. A perfect mix of protective Sy and a protagonist that's more than willing to get into situations she probably shouldn't. Seriously, the sass is amazing and the cast of supporting characters almost make the show. x OFC.
Eyes That See (series) from @just-chirpin Ridiculously sweet and sexy with all those stomach-churning insecurities I suspect we all have. A real slice of Americana. x Reader
Cuts & Bruises, Wounds & Abuses (series) from @cinebration This was one of the first Sy fics I ever read and I loved every bit of it. Set at Warhorse, it's a *soulmate* AU and it makes me weak. x Reader
Where Kindness Grows (series) from @rmtndew The Depression Era AU we all needed and just didn't know. Sy is soft in this one and there's some really great escapist headspaces for the reader. A unique gem. x Reader
Adopt a Soldier (series) from @rmtndew FLUFF. SO MUCH FLUFF. This one kept me up until 2 AM and, ngl, I shed a couple tears. A girl adopts a soldier for Christmas. Gen.
Applewine Valley (series) from @nuggsmum I'm really soft for Farmer Sy, particularly a Farmer Sy that argues with his cow. Lots of sass between OFC and Sy and a bit of enemies-to-lovers (but just a bit of misunderstanding). x OFC
Meet & Greet Vignettes (series) from @invisibleanonymousmonsters A nice collection of stories with a Reader from NYC. I love the interplay between her and Sy; he exceeds her expectations at every turn, like I think he would with a lot of us. x Reader
No I in Team from @angryschnauzerwrites Sy is a hard ass instructor at a team building retreat. Reader is coming off a bad break-up and rage quits the course. Sy follows up with her because he cares. There's some tequila and gratuitous use of the little plastic hat on the bottle. x Reader
Your Condition from @sillyrabbit81 Sy is just the sweetest and the most considerate in this and I love the tender hesitation of it all. Definitely gave me goosebumps in the best way. Make sure you catch part 2 as well! x Reader
The Chili Cook-off from @sif-the-tsunami A proper enemies-to-lovers that helped inspire me to start down my own Sy-verse path. Lots of sweet moments of realization and some funny moments with Sy being adorably aghast at the treatment of chili. x Reader
Of Beards and Ranks from @wolvesandhoundshowltogether The first glow-up for Sy I read. There's a ton of sweet and steamy moments. x Reader
Yrsa from @feralrunaway AU!Viking!Sy! Really sexy and intense. Reader gets taken by a viking band. Sy and his own raiding party attack. There's soulmates and a bit of dub-con and a whole lot of fun. x Reader
Walter Marshall
Silk Stockings from @hope-to-hell NGL, the idea of running my hands over some hairy thighs encased in silk has been living rent free in my heads since *checks date on posting* Jan. 12th, 2021.
Insomnia Marshmallows from @scorpiobitch95 The perfect blend of soft and hard Marshall wheedling his new neighbor into a sleepover. With some pretty fancy ways of keeping warm. X Reader
The Light from @nuggsmum It's a romance novel and a mystery all rolled into one! And I love those! Features an isolated lighthouse and an amnesiac Walter who washes up in a storm. x OFC
The Bodyguard from @wolvesandhoundshowltogether This one is new and only has a couple of chapter but perfectly espouses the serious, gruff Detective we meet at the beginning of Nomis. The OFC is super relatable and boy howdy does it get steamy quick. x OFC
Hook, Line, and Sinker from @hope-to-hellThere's just something so fucking satisfying about a large and in-charge man giving up that control. Even better when he asks for it himself. A new kink arises! x Reader
Breaking and Entering (Series) from @omgkatinka Walter Marshall gets friendly with your cat, who won't stop sneaking out of your apartment. I love a good cat matchmaker, particularly one that's so opposed to matching socks. x Reader
Writer Masterlists
@hope-to-hell // Master list :: Hope has a great knack at reaching inside your chest, grabbing your heart, and making it march to the rhythm of whatever drum she's beating that day. Very self-discovery-is-amazing kind of kink. The Masterlist is almost all mini fics she's yeeted into the universe but a couple of multi parts that I've linked up above. Best for pairing up random characters and building a whole world; basically if there's a threesome to be had, Hope will find it and make you beg.
@angryschnauzerwrites // Master list (AO3) :: Good for lots of stuff but particularly sexy one-shots and *phenomenal* sex. Multi-story fics are well planned. Very prolific.
@sillyrabbit81 // Master list :: One of the most prolific writers on Tumblr, it was hard to really nail down specific fics so I only linked a couple of them. However, the whole masterlist is glorious and truly has something for everyone.
@keanureevesisbae // Master list :: For the best collection of sweet and complex OC's along with a cast of characters that will leave you laughing, basically everything here is gold. Plus, asian!OFCs which are rare but very well done here.
@cinebration // Master list :: Holy body of work in a shit ton of fandoms. M writes entire words without getting wordy and makes the reader fall in love with every aspect of the story. They're my favorite for writing characters I don't normally read and have phenomenal plots.
@thetaoofzoe // Master list :: Another real prolific writer, Zoe writes Black!Reader to perfection and I love her plots. She's got my favorite Walker, for sure. Lots of long one-shots sure to keep anyone busy.
@viking-raider // Master list :: Cant have an author's master list for Henry Cavill without including Skye. *shrug* Them's the rules. BUT, for good reason! Hers was the very first master list that I fell down all those months ago and I devoured everything. She's got some ridiculously creative AUs and has such a good grasp of her characters. I'm pretty jealous. Like Hope, there's some stuff that's not for everyone but she's very good at tagging.
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