#i just think he's so *gets mauled by a pack of animals*

[maharlika]

flight

a short halstarion ficlet i wrote for @kingthunder for the prompt: "halsin teaches astarion how to wildshape into a bat"

uhhh that's not quite what happens here, but i hope you enjoy this ramble anyway! this is pre-relationship also so kajdlakjsd

--

Astarion stops short right outside of Halsin’s tent, and clears his throat.

“Druid, I’d like to speak with you.”

There’s shuffling from inside the tent, and then the door flap parts and Halsin steps out. Astarion fights the reflex to take a step back––he always forgets just how much larger the other elf is. 

“Astarion,” Halsin says, inclining his head in greeting. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Astarion looks askance at the rest of the camp. Everyone seems occupied, but in such a small space, and with such insatiable gossips as Gale, Karlach and Withers, there’s no telling who might be listening in.

“Perhaps we could speak in private,” Halsin says, clearly reading Astarion’s worry. 

“Perhaps,” Astarion replies. Halsin lifts the entrance to his tent and gestures as Astarion blinks in surprise.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.”

“Oh, I––all right.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, Astarion hunches down and enters Halsin’s tent. Contrary to what he’d expected, the tent isn’t a bear’s den. Inside, it is sparse but clean, and it smells like rich soil and herbs. There’s a bedroll tucked into one corner, and green moss covers the floor like a soft blanket. 

Astarion takes a ginger cross-legged seat while Halsin rummages around in one of his packs.

“I’m sure you’d prefer something more––sanguine, but all I have is tea,” Halsin says, his back to Astarion. He’s a hulking thing in the enclosed space, and Astarion feels a zip of something that’s not-quite-apprehension slithering down his spine to be so close to something that he knows could maul him in a blink of an eye.

“I can’t remember the last time I drank tea. I don’t know if I can,” Astarion says.

“Even if you can’t, it’s a cold night out––maybe you’d like to keep your hands warm.”

With that, Halsin pours them both tea in wooden cups. Astarion rubs his thumb across the smooth grain and watches Halsin from the rim of the cup as he takes a careful sip.

“I didn’t come here for tea, you know,” Astarion says as a pocket of warmth settles somewhere in his chest. 

“I know,” Halsin says serenely, looking at Astarion with an unnervingly frank gaze. “What is it that you need?”

“I don’t know if it’s polite to ask.”

Halsin raises an eyebrow. 

“I don’t know the first thing about druids,” Astarion continues, before he can stop himself or think better of it. “Well––I do know some things. But I’d like to ask…when you’re––when you become a bear, are you still in there? Inside of––the animal?”

Halsin listens to Astarion intently, with no sign of derision or amusement. 

“You’re not the first to ask the question, and you’ll not be the last,” Halsin says, after a moment and another sip of tea. “Many druids have philosophized long and hard on this, but I shall not subject you to my people’s ramblings. It is different for every druid, but suffice it to say: yes, we are still ‘in there’. I am the beast, and the beast is me. It is only my form that changes, not my personhood. When I am in Wild Shape, though, it is true that the affairs of people seem much less…important. Other things are magnified instead. Emotions, desires, senses. It is easy to get lost in them.

And there have been…accounts, of course. Live as a beast for long enough, content yourself with the thoughts of a beast and the actions of a beast, and you may lose yourself. But for a regular druid spending short spans of time in Wild Shape, it is of no consequence.”

Astarion drinks Halsin’s words like parched ground drinking the rain. 

“Would you teach me?” he asks. “Is it possible for someone like me to learn?”

If Halsin is surprised by the question, he does not show it. He brings his tea to his mouth and takes a long swallow, closing his eyes as he ponders. 

“It is a skill like any other,” Halsin says. “I have seen you use magic, and our kind is naturally attuned to the natural world. I don’t see why not.”

“And you’re not going to ask me why?” Astarion says warily.

“Would you tell me?”

“Well, not if you don’t ask,” Astarion says, fighting and failing not to pout. “You’re ruining my aura of mystery, you know.”

“Apologies,” Halsin says with a huff of laughter. “Astarion, why would you like to learn Wild Shape?”

“I think I would make a very fetching bat,” Astarion says flippantly. “And I do tire of walking all day. Tav takes us up all these mountains and hills––it’s wretched. Why walk if I could fly? And why fly if someone could carry me?”

Halsin hums in agreement, but Astarion can see he’s not so easily fooled. Those keen eyes are upon him again, gaze unrelenting.

“It’s all right, you know,” Halsin says, “to not want to be a person sometimes.”

Astarion stiffens. 

“Rest easy,” Halsin says, “I’ll not subject you to a lecture. As for your request, I’m sure I can fulfill it. When would you like to start?”

“It’s that easy?” Astarion says, squinting in suspicion. 

“Oh, learning will not be easy. But this conversation? Yes, I’d like to think so. More tea?”

“I––” for a moment, Astarion flounders. He should go, he thinks. He’s got what he came here for, and there’s no more to discuss unless Halsin means to teach him how to Wild Shape right at this moment. 

“Do you know what it feels like?” Astarion asks, eventually. “To want everything to just stop?”

“Better than you might think,” Halsin says. 

“Oh?”

“A story for another time, perhaps.”

“Well, aren’t you full of secrets.”

“I like to cultivate an aura of mystery.”

Astarion barks out a laugh at that, which makes Halsin smile.

As Halsin pours them more tea, Astarion allows himself to imagine it: the wind beneath dark wings, his body light enough to soar. It would be so nice, he thinks, to be free for once.

[ladykailitha]

Well Met By Moonlight Part 12

Long time no see on this one. Sorry about that. I was trying really hard to balance everything out, but it didn't work. Hopefully this makes up for it.

I would absolutely go back and read part 11 considering how long it's been.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

In this we find out where the blood came from, Billy gets a gift and a shock, and Eddie proves he's smarter than people give him credit for.

****

Robin sprayed Steve down with a hose and washed away all the blood. Then he shifted. Tommy climbed on his back and dug his hands in the thick fur by his ruff.

He let Tommy steer him to where he needed to go, behind them he could sense both Nancy and Hopper in wolf form running on either side. Neither of them carried any scent of blood, so they weren’t one of his pack who had woken up covered.

Now that he was back in wolf form he could smell that the blood on him wasn’t human. Thank god, but it was still a problem because the scent didn’t smell like any animal he’d ever hunted before.

Patrick was literally on the Coven’s doorstep when Steve arrived. He was surrounded by Billy, Heather, Chrissy, and Keith. Patrick was barely breathing and it looked as though he had been mauled by something. Something big.

Bigger than even Steve.

He nudged Tommy for him to get off which the keeper did quickly. Steve shifted back into his human form.

“Why didn’t you heal him?” he snapped at Billy.

Billy laughed. “Because I figured it was a present to me.”

Steve’s head snapped up. “But you weren’t the one attacked, I was.”

Billy stepped over Patrick’s body as if he was trash. He leaned into Steve’s space. “And you’re weak. Everyone knows it. This was the supernatural community coming to me and telling me that it’s time to dispense of the...” he paused for dramatic affect. “Pleasantries.”

Steve growled and snapped in his face, causing everyone present to gasp.

“I dare you to try, Billy,” he snarled. “You won’t do shit. Everyone knows you’re actual coward, hiding behind the veneer of the Dominus rank. I know about your little spy. I even know who it is.”

Billy was forced to take a step back.

“You don’t know shit, Harrington,” he sneered, trying to gain back the footing he had so clearly lost. “But go on then, come get him if you really think you’re strong enough to take me on.”

Steve scoffed and knelt at Patrick’s side. “I don’t have to take him, Hargrove. I can just do this.”

He picked up Patrick’s wrist. “I can save you,” he murmured. “But you have to consent.”

“Saved me,” Patrick rasped. “Can’t save me–”

“I can,” Steve insisted. “Just give the word and I’ll do it.”

Patrick nodded.

Steve looked up at Chrissy and Keith. “You both saw him nod, yes.”

Keith nodded and Chrissy said, “Yes. I attest that he nodded.”

Steve lowered his mouth onto Patrick’s wrist. Billy whirled around to try to stop him but both Heather and Chrissy leaped to grab his arms to hold him back.

Nancy and Hopper looked on in stunned silence as Patrick’s wounds receded. The boy’s body shook and he howled in pain. Then he laid still.

Everyone watched on.

“Now we see if he has the potential.” Steve got to his feet. He was still naked as he turned to face Billy head on.

“Why would you do that?” Billy snarled. “He tried to kill you. Now if he survives he’ll be able to finish the job. God, Harrington I thought you were dumb but this takes whole new levels.”

Steve scoffed and got right into Billy’s face. They were standing toe to toe and even though Billy was taller and broader than Steve when his blue eyes met Steve’s hazel, Billy ducked his head.

“You didn’t listen, as always,” Steve growled. “He said that I had already saved him. Which means the blood I found when I woke up this morning was that of whatever attacked Patrick.”

Just then Wayne and Eddie landed on the ground behind them, fully transformed. Wayne’s wings were grey to Eddie’s midnight black, but the were longer, heavier, darker in a way that had nothing to do with color but from the aura that surrounded the older vampire.

As none of the current coven were over the age of fifty, most of them born vampires and young, Billy had to bow to Wayne’s age and experience. Wayne hissed and Billy stopped struggling against Keith and Chrissy. He went boneless in their arms as he sank to his knees.

“It’s done,” Wayne said solemnly.

Everyone turned to looked at Patrick.

The boy’s breathing had evened out and his wounds were healed. His clothes were still tattered and torn, covered in the patina of his attack. Steve could hear his heart beat and it too had evened out.

“Take him back to the compound,” he said fiercely. Hopper and Tommy helped Patrick to get on the back of Nancy and Tommy climbed on to help keep him from sliding off. Then Nancy was off like a shot, tearing off toward home.

Steve knelt on the ground and sniffed the blood that remained. It had the taint of something feral and dark. Not werewolf. Not vampire. Some other supernatural being.

“Christ!” Wayne hissed. “What the fuck is a cat sìth doing on this side of the Atlantic?”

Billy scoffed. “There’s no such thing. Not ever legend is real otherwise we’d be fending off at least a thousand demons from Japanese folk lore alone.”

Wayne glowered at him. “Be that as it may, boy. The fae are not only real, but deadly as hell. It’s only because the cat sìth wished it so that he lasted as long as he did.”

Steve rubbed his jaw. There was something off. Something that didn’t make sense.

He shook his head. “A cat sìth was involved, no doubt. But I don’t think that’s who attacked Patrick.”

Every head turned to Steve.

“What do you mean, Stevie?” Eddie asked.

“I’m a good fighter,” Steve explained. “But there is no way that I would have been able to fight one off not if Patrick was the target.”

Billy licked his lips. “Because Patrick wasn’t the target.”

Steve nodded. “The cat sìth was on hand to feast on the real target to make sure there was nothing left.”

“So who was the target?” Hopper growled.

“Considering that Patrick was dumped on Billy’s doorstep?” Chrissy said, “It’s a sure bet it was probably him.”

“But why?” Keith asked.

“Holy fucking shit!” Eddie hissed. “I know exactly what the plan was.”

Billy scoffed. “Like a bitten could figure it out before a bred. Go back to your trailer, trash.”

Wayne leveled Billy a glare that Dominus met head on. Neither man flinched first.

“What have you got, Eddie?” Chrissy asked, breaking the tension.

Eddie puffed out his chest and preened a little at the attention. The alpha in Steve woke with a possessive growl that caught in his throat.

“Patrick was poisoned.”

Every head turned to Steve in concern. Well all but Hopper.

“He’ll be fine,” the gruff former alpha informed the crowd. “Part of the perks of being a werewolf. We can’t be poisoned. It doesn’t stick.”

Steve grinned wolfishly at the vampires. Wayne rolled his eyes.

“Wait,” Chrissy said. “If that’s the case, then they were banking on Billy turning Patrick into a vampire, weren’t they?”

Eddie nodded. “They assumed that Billy would want one of Steve’s assailants as a vampire kind. Adding a valuable ally to the Coven.”

Wayne nodded. “That’s a good thought, boy.” He ruffled Eddie’s hair fondly. “But they didn’t account for one thing.”

Billy grinned this time, finally having caught on. “That I wouldn’t allow a bitten in my coven.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “So what about the cat sìth?”

“That’s where their plan gets ingenius,” Eddie said. “Billy turns Patrick, Billy dies from the poison, the cat sìth eats or at least mangles Billy’s body, and it looks like a turned vampire killed the Dominus, turning the whole coven against Wayne and me.”

Wayne rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’m strong and so is Ed, but there is no way that we’d be able to take on an entire coven on our own.”

“Thereby removing the town’s fiercest protector from the board,” Billy finished. “Whoever this person is who’s calling all the shots, I’d like to meet so I can rip off his head.”

Steve winced. “There’s still the problem of what attacked Patrick if it wasn’t the cat sìth.”

Wayne crouched over the spot that the young man had lain and touched the quickly drying blood with all four of his fingers.

He shook his head. “I can’t tell what it was. It’s no beastie I’ve ever run across.”

“Which means that it wasn’t anyone from the community,” Billy said, his relief palpable.

As much as Steve hated to admit it, he agreed with Billy on this one. If Wayne didn’t know the type of supernatural being this was, that meant that it wasn’t someone from Hawkins.

Unfortunately that meant research and Steve wasn’t very good at it. Nancy was, but he wasn’t sure she would tell him what she found, alpha or not.

Eddie seemed to pick up on what he was feeling because Wayne and he shared a glance. Eddie nodded.

“I’ve got you, babe,” he murmured, low in Steve’s ear.

The alpha relaxed.

“As much as I would love to stand around and chat,” Billy said with a sneer. “But the sun is up and I have no intention of frying out here.” He signaled for Chrissy and Keith to follow him and they all went back inside the large manor house that served as the coven headquarters.

That left only Steve and Hopper with Eddie and Wayne.

Steve turned to Hopper. “Get the pack together so I can explain. And you will not speak of what happened here until I arrive. And I forbid Nancy and Tommy from doing the same,” he said slipping into his alpha voice, not trusting Hopper to do as he was told otherwise.

Hopper bristled but shifted back into his wolf form. He took off in a dead heat back toward the Harrington Compound.

Steve sighed. “I don’t know what to do with him now that he’s back. It’s caused such upheaval in the pack that I’m fighting even the ones that backed me in the alpha challenge.”

“It’s certainly not how things are normally done,” Wayne said, nodding. “I will speak with him and see if I can’t get him to be more understanding.”

The alpha nodded. “Thank you.”

Eddie pulled off a backpack that Steve hadn’t noticed in the hubbub of Patrick’s attack and started pulling out large, billowy clothes. He handed the top set to Wayne, who quickly got to work covering every inch of his skin.

As Eddie did the same, he grinned at Steve’s confused expression. “We knew there was a chance that it would be full light by the time we cleared this up and packed accordingly.”

Eddie’s clothes were black to Wayne’s white, but they both included a large brimmed hat, gloves, and bindings to seal their sleeves and pant legs to their limbs.

Steve thought they looked a little ridiculous, but smiled as he waved them off.

He looked up at the manor, once dubbed the Creel House, named after a man who had built it right in vampire territory and paid the ultimate price for his impertinence.

Whatever was brewing in town there was an undercurrent that seemed to stem from the very under belly of the supernatural community and if Steve didn’t figure it out soon, the town was going to rip itself to shreds.

He shifted and ran at full speed back to the compound. He just wasn’t sure if he was running from danger or towards it.

And that frightened him.

****

Part 13

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@anaibis

[ghost-proofbaby]

“I think…” she trails off, trying to choose her words carefully, “I think we need to talk.”  His eyes crack open, an eyebrow lifted, “Perhaps I was wrong, and thinking is a good look on you.”  “If you’re going to make a joke out of everything I say, then I can easily go back to avoiding you.” “So you admit it? You were avoiding me?”  “I didn’t mean tha-”

summary: aruna finally confronts astarion about his vampirism. how badly could it go?

wc: 5.9k+

warnings: description of a dead animal (the boar from the game)

a/n: another one that's already been on ao3, but this means we're finally caught up across platforms! next chapter is the bite scene (and the bite scene only) my friends <3

ao3 | masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Aruna avoids Astarion for a whole five days. Impressive, given the gravity he seems to hold that continues to draw her towards him. But a necessary feat – all she can hear, every day and every night, is the echo of his words. 

My dearest Aruna. 

Her hands are reaching for her letter more often than she’d care to admit, always fearing she’ll find her pack empty. She knows Astarion couldn’t have possibly written the letter, it’s become apparent that he’d never met her before this entire misadventure, but it was too startling to be a mere coincidence . If she were smarter, she’d take the time to figure out what it all meant. 

But she isn’t smart. She’s a fool, and she avoids the man that has begun to haunt her at every corner of her days.

She fills her waking hours to the brim with anything but the vampire. Reading, practicing magic, adventuring . She tries to ignore his mildly hurt expression any time she recruits companions to join her in her explorations and pointedly ignores going anywhere near him during the enlistment process. It’s as though he’s been plagued by something absolutely abhorrent to her, and she can’t possibly get far enough away from him in order to breathe. 

And so she does what she must. They come across an owlbear den, and the mother nearly mauls them all before Aruna diffuses the situation. They explore more of the Grove, only to end up in battle with Harpies in order to save a lured child. Aruna finds that she fights infinitely better without an Astarion around to worry about saving as well.

She just chooses to ignore the fact that every time she fights with her daggers, Astarion’s muffled voice is there, in the recedes of her mind, whispering instructions that are actually helpful. She knows it’s not the tadpole connection, but that’s all she does know. 

Some time during the entire ordeal, Astarion stops sleeping at her side by the fire at night. He must have returned to the Grove without her, because he’s suddenly the proud owner of a tent just like the one from her memory. A deep maroon, the fabric uncannily free of dust. She has no idea where he’s gathered all the trinkets and mundane items that litter both the porch of it and the inside that she catches glimpses of – she doesn’t even know when he set the damned thing up. There had simply been a morning in which she departed for the day with Wyll, Gale, and Shadowheart, and returned to Astarion lounging very comfortably right below the perch of her overlook. 

It felt a bit deliberate, given how much time she spent up there in the evenings. The bastard. 

Aruna’s terrible tactic only comes to a head when her group of vagabonds for the day stumbles upon the carcass of a drained boar, left behind in the dead center of the dirt path. 

The deja vu gives her a headache. 

Wyll brushes it off for the most part. Shadowheart seems intrigued, but after finding nothing seemingly intriguing about the dead animal, she’s already wandering off a few paces away. Gale is the only one even an inch within being as curious as Aruna is. 

If you could even call her curious.

“Why, that poor thing !” he exclaims just as Aruna has paused to take a knee, only to get a closer look. Just as she had expected, there’s no external clue to the boar’s cause of death, “Do you think this might be the doing of the goblins?” 

Aruna only sighs deeply, shoulders dropping and face crumpling microscopically. 

No, this is not the doing of goblins. This is the doing of a particularly annoying prick in my side who’s lounging back at camp. 

“Goblins would be messier,” is her poor attempt at an excuse. 

They would be, to be fair. 

Gale hums thoughtfully, crouching down beside her, “I suppose you’re right. I don’t even see any wounds on the ani-” 

He cuts off as his eyes zero in on the neck of the boar. The fur there has been smoothed and smooshed enough to lay in an exposing pattern, almost a clear view of the two small puncture wounds that mar the skin beneath. 

Astarion’s work, without a doubt. 

“Have you ever seen wounds like that?” she whispers quietly, hoping that Wyll and Shadowheart will continue whatever boring chat they were trying to engage each other with.

She doesn’t want them to notice this. It’s not that she doesn’t trust them, but- Well, she simply trusts Gale more.

There had been an empty space at her side left behind due to the absence of Astarion. And Gale had easily taken to filling it in, stepping right into stride with Aruna just as her shadow once had. 

After the Harpies, he had opened up to her some. She’d nearly snipped at the young tiefling child at the beach, but something deep within her couldn’t bring herself to be so cruel as her initial reaction had been. Instead of telling the kid to stop crying in such a callous way, she’d only found herself warning him to be careful and to be more mindful of where he wandered. Gale had been at her side not a moment later, murmuring in delightful reminiscence of how he was as a young and curious child. 

It was sort of endearing. Almost familiar. Not quite what she felt with Astarion, but close enough for now. 

“Never,” he looks dumbfounded. She wonders just how often he’s come up this clueless in his life, given all his prattling about knowledge , “But… well, rather peculiar indeed.” 

“Peculiar is one word for it.” 

Gale is quickest to agree when Aruna suggests they go back to camp. The day had mostly been wasted at this point regardless; the only thing they’d discovered thus far that was of any interest was a crumbling temple of sorts not far from their camp, right beside the beach in which they’d crash landed on. But they had found people there, other looters, and Aruna hadn’t hesitated to call her group to fall back the moment she spotted the figures arguing in the decaying courtyard. 

They don’t need to know why she’s so eager to return back to camp. Or the absolute reaming she plans their entire trek back for a certain companion. 

Astarion was either being deliberately dense and playing with fire, waiting for someone to catch on and call him out on his true nature, or- 

Well. He was just truly that reckless. 

Aruna storms back into the camp, the rest close behind and nearly nipping at her heels, to find Astarion perfectly at peace as he sits in front of his tent. At first, she thinks he’s simply reading. She can see the book opened up in his lap clearly, but his finger isn’t trailing along the words as he usually would. His head is far too tilted back to even be looking at the pages. 

She stops dead in her tracks, dust kicking up from the abrupt halting of her steps, the moment she rounds his tent and sees him properly. 

Her anger fizzles momentarily at the sight. All the harsh words she was prepared to spit at him, the ravings of his idiocracy and the grand reveal of her knowing his most sacred secret, are lost to the wind. 

He looks peaceful . Perfectly, absolutely, at peace. 

Eyes fluttered shut, mouth slack, skin bright in the warm afternoon sun. He’s basking in it. She swears every pale inch of him has begun to glow golden as he absorbs all the heat the sky has to offer. 

“Have you finally decided you’re ready to speak to me again, or are you just here for a show?” 

His voice snaps her from the trance. For just a second, it felt as though the radiant glow of his peace had dispelled every single one of her shadows from existence. But the echo of his words across the otherwise quiet camp reminds her of all her frustrations. 

My dearest Aruna. 

He’s a vampire. She has to save him. And somehow, he mysteriously has addressed her just as her bizarre letter had. It matter of fact sparks new found anger. 

But not at him. It’s the strangest of realizations; none of her negative feelings are capable of being pointed towards him in this state. That golden glow gives him an innocence she had forgotten. She may know new information, she may have some sort of begrudging upper hand on their entire situation it seems, but he doesn’t. Astarion is simply surviving – the boar wasn’t some direct taunt from him. Probably nothing more than a small slip up in the process of keeping himself alive and well. 

He had to feed. She couldn’t get angry at him for that. 

“I think…” she trails off, trying to choose her words carefully, “I think we need to talk.” 

His eyes crack open, an eyebrow lifted, “Perhaps I was wrong, and thinking is a good look on you.” 

“If you’re going to make a joke out of everything I say, then I can easily go back to avoiding you.”

“So you admit it? You were avoiding me?” 

“I didn’t mean tha-”

Gale interrupts them as he strolls up beside Aruna. He’s not quite a shadow, not quite as reflexive or secure as Astarion, but he nearly fits the mold left behind. “Perhaps Astarion might know more of what we found in our travels today.” 

That catches the vampire’s attention. He displays upmost lithe as he quickly widens both eyes and brings himself to his feet, unashamed in his eagerness at the prospect. 

The prospect of being useful again. The prospect of Aruna needing him again. 

“Oh?” he asks, eyes darting between the wizard and sorcerer, “Pray tell – what did you morons find?” 

Aruna is scowling when she replies, “A boar.”

He’s waiting for her to continue on. An act that’s working well enough on Gale, but Aruna catches the sudden stiffness of his spine. 

“When you put it that way, it’s as if you want him to turn up his nose at helping us,” Gale mutters, entirely unimpressed. “It was a dead boar, but without any clear wounds. I- Well, I have my guesses as to what might have killed the poor animal, but-” 

“It had peculiar marks on its neck,” Aruna finishes before he can start up a ramble.

Astarion is growing more tense with every passing moment. 

“ Peculiar marks? ” he nearly scoffs, “And you think I’d be of any help regarding them why? ” 

“Because you’re helpful,” Aruna deadpans, leveling him with a bored stare. It takes everything in her to assure that she doesn’t clue him in to the fact that she knows he was the one who killed that boar, that those marks were a bite left by his fangs, “Or at least you’ve proven you can be when you want to be.”

Maybe her faux boredom can be what lures him in. Perhaps the new approach can work in her favor. 

“And what if I’m not feeling particularly helpful today?” he grins softly, tilting his head at her. The action is almost feline in nature, “I was quite enjoying relaxing here while the rest of you run around aimlessly, doing all the hard work.”

“That was quite the contradictory statement to your earlier sentiment,” she muses, struggling to keep her amusement from lacing up into her words. She hated that she liked playing these games with him. She hated that his taunts lit something deep within her. A whisper of come play with me, a need to dance along to the tune that he believed himself to be conducting, “Are we being useless, or are we doing hard work? Pick one or the other. As a matter of fact, you can ponder on it as you join me to go take a second look at this boar.” 

Alone. An unspoken clause. She was going to get him alone and far from camp, and then she could confront him. 

“A second look?” his eyebrows quirk, eyes darting to the horizon, “But the sun is sett-”

She cuts him off, “We’ll be fine. Besides, if we run into any trouble, you’ll protect me – right?” 

Gale is biting back his laughter as Astarion’s face falls, eyes narrowing into slits. But he doesn’t protest, much to Aruna’s chagrin. He only spins and ducks into his tent, returning with his own daggers in hand. In the flash of a glimpse she catches before he’s secured them into his holsters, Aruna swears they could pass for her own. Same length, same silver blade, same black leather wrapped around the hilt. 

“If we get into any trouble, I’ll leave you to the wolves,” he remarks as he steps up in front of her. Gale falls back, as if Astarion’s mere presence pushes him out of Aruna’s space, making room for the rightful shadow to return to her. 

Aruna rolls her eyes, and turns to look at Gale, “Don’t let camp burn down while we’re gone.”

“Won’t be too much trouble,” he still fights a grin, eyes darting between Aruna and Astarion, “Seeing as our natural-born troublemakers will be out. I should be warning you against causing any chaos or arson.” 

“No promises.”

Gale sighs, “Of course not. I forget who I’m speaking to.”

It feels right. It feels natural for Astarion to fall into step with her. To turn her back on the camp, and know that he is right there, a hairline fracture behind her and ready for anything that may interrupt their travels. She feels safer this way, she realizes, to hear the lack of twigs snapping behind her or gravel crunching as she paces the path that leads them from the camp and back out into the wilderness. Neither hers nor Astarion’s gear so much as clang a single metallic ring as they thread their way through the trees, both silent as ever as Aruna retraces her steps back to the boar. No complaining from Shadowheart, no nervous rambling from Gale, no tchs from Lae’zel. 

They make a good team, as painful as it may be to admit. 

“Your stealth has improved in the days you’ve been ignoring me,” Astarion notes as they break through the treeline not far from the entrance to the grove, “Manage to loot a new pair of boots in your misadventures?” 

“Nope,” she looks down at the same worn boots she’d been donning since waking up on the beach, “Although, now that you mention it, I could surely use a new pair.” 

“Are you sure you have enough gold for a new pair?”

She slows until Astarion falls into a leisurely pace at her side, no longer trailing behind her, “Who needs gold if I have a rogue to conveniently snag me a pair from one of the traders at the grove?” 

He nearly trips over himself as he side eyes her. Immediately, she knows she had gotten her guess correctly – he was clearly a rogue, and the night she had spent skimming through the book on the class was decidedly not a waste. 

“So you’ve figured out my class. Impressive .” 

“It wasn’t hard. You do love feeding into stereotypes, don’t you?” 

“Me? Being stereotypical?” Astarion scoffs, raising a theatrical hand, holding over his chest, “Darling, I’m hurt. I’ll have you know I’m absolutely one of a kind.” 

She rolls her eyes despite her best efforts, “Right. Of course. You must be unique to be such a sharp pain in my ass.” 

“Full of fire today, are we, my dearest sorcerer?” 

It’s not quite the phrase from the letter. One word short, and yet it still stirs something in her. Triggering the exact thing she had been battling and trying to bury deep down the past five days. 

My dearest Aruna. 

If she looks close enough, she swears she can see the endless pathways of wires and threads alike between them, all crossing and knotting past the point of being detangled. There’s too much she doesn’t know; there’s too much she does know. Like how he’s a vampire. He’s a vampire, and for some reason, it doesn’t do anything to deflate her trust in him. As a matter of fact, his usage of that familiar nickname atop the heading of the letter in her pack strikes more wariness in her than his condition ever could. 

But it doesn’t change the fact that she needs to confront him now that they’re alone.

She’s saved by the boar, it seems, as they finally stumble upon the carcass. It’s right where she had left it not even an hour prior. Still in the center of the pathway, still dead as ever. And still marked with those two fang-sized holes in what would be considered its neck. 

“Is this it?” Astarion raises a brow, stopping a few steps short of the carrion, “This is the treacherous boar that Gale was rambling on about?” 

Her throat threatens to close up from her swelling anxiety, “Look at its neck.” 

Astarion is soundless, both in voice and movement, as he crouches down. She quickly realizes that his eyes were already glued to the suspicious wounds before she’d even pointed them out, already locked into the location before he had been anywhere near close enough to properly spot them. 

For all she could rave about how sly and stealthy he can be, he certainly has his moments.

Did he ever plan to tell them? The admission would surely put him in danger. If she were in his shoes, she’d probably have been counting her days until a stake was aimed her way, always living with the fear of her deepest secret being exposed. He doesn’t know that she already knows. He has no idea that she’s already decided he’s worth the risk, and that his vampirism is just something to deal with. Just like her memory loss, just like Wyll’s heroism. It was a small thing to categorize rather than worry over. And yet, she knows – he never planned to tell them. 

It’s practically written in stone as he tsks from his crouch and glances up at her, “I see. Looks like something bit the poor thing.”

“Something did more than simply bite it,” she argues, pushing her luck and desperately trying to make him say the words aloud, “It’s been drained completely of its blood, Astarion. Doesn’t that worry you?” 

It does, and for all the reasons not implicated. She sees the flash of fear, the dredging up of anxiety. She’s yanking him from his shadows of safety, one push at a time. 

“How do you know it’s been drained of all its blood? Have you even checked?” 

“It’s dead, and there’s not a drop of scarlet to be seen.” 

“Maybe it was killed with magic.” 

“Or maybe it was killed by a vampire .” 

Time stands still as she says the cursed word. It’s out in the air between them now, impossible to take back. She hadn’t even meant to spit it out so ferociously; it had simply slipped out as her heart rate picked up as she began her confrontation, knowing exactly what she was about to get herself into-

Could he sense her heart racing? He was a vampire, after all. He must be able to hear her pulse. He must. 

He’s staring up at her, dumbfounded, clearly choosing his next words carefully. All she can do is lose herself, bit by bit, crack by crack, in those scarlet eyes. 

“You think a vampire is roaming these lands?” his tone has gone hushed, and she must admit – he’s a decent actor when he gives it his best effort, “I… Well, that certainly changes quite a few things.” 

Like what? she nearly snaps at him, Like whether we all can sleep peacefully in our camp at night, knowing the vampire was settled into a tent mere feet away? 

“I do,” she chokes out over her nerves. He was certainly going to lash out, or run in fear. Her entire purpose since leaving that ship is about to be shattered, left in complete shambles as she fails the one thing she knows as her purpose, “There must be. Nothing else would have killed the boar this way.” 

He rises slowly, eyes never leaving hers. He’s tense – just as tense as his neck and shoulders had been the night he’d humored her guessing of his class. Stoic and petrified. “And… what do you plan to do about this revelation? It’s not as though we can… hunt the fool. He surely can’t travel in the daylight, and we rest at nigh-”

She’s quick to catch his slip up.

“Who ever said the vampire was a man, Astarion?”

His entire face drops, the mask evaporating and in its place, a rampant fear spreads. She can see him making his choice in real time, grasping at the formulations of any plan or save he can manage. The excuses are nearly tangible on his tongue. 

“Well-”

His voice is lost in the breeze as she turns slowly, facing him head on, “And why do you assume I’d want to hunt him?” 

He’s trying to play it off, pitifully so. His hands are dancing out in front of him, arms slinging wildly before words have even begun to slip from his mouth.

“Well- I-” it’s the first time she’s ever heard him stutter, she realizes, “It’s a vampire , darling. A wild beast of the night. A vicious and violent creature. Why wouldn’t you want to hunt it down before it caused any more grief?” 

If she didn’t know, it’d be the performance of a lifetime. But she knows, and it strikes a terrible pang of sadness deep within her. He believes what he’s saying – he truly believes vampires to be something vial, something dangerous, something violent. He believes himself to be all of those things. He sees himself as something vicious, as something cursed to creep through the night and leave a trail of bloodshed in his wake. A thing so terrible that he deserves the stake he expects she would drive through his heart if he admitted the truth. 

He is annoying. He is exasperating. He is finicky. He calls for trouble to follow him more closely than his own shadow, it seems. He is all of those things, but he is not what he currently describes to Aruna. Not to her. 

“A vampire is an undead creature,” she recites from memory. She’d snagged a book on vampires from Gale’s piles, as well. “Undead. Something, someone, once living. I don’t make a business of hunting, in case I haven’t made myself clear in the time we’ve spent traveling together.” 

“We’re hunting that devil of Wyll’s,” he’s quick to point out.

“Wyll is hunting the devil, and I’ve simply offered minimal aid in exchange for his help in protecting us.”

Because I’m not enough. Because I can’t protect this group given my current state. And I highly doubt I ever could to begin with. 

There are unspoken words drifting into nothing more than smoke and mirrors between them. She nearly reignites the tadpole’s connection just so he gets it . Her tongue nearly slips and simply blurts out that she knows, if for nothing more than to rip the bandaid off and make it clear she doesn’t see a monster when she looks at him. She sees an ally, a valuable member of their little trope. She sees someone worth keeping around. For better or for worse. 

The nerves have died down now. The vinery of it all has slowly disengaged, no longer wrapped terribly around her throat or limbs. She chooses to finally crouch back down beside the boar, the source of this entire exchange, and let her fingers glide over the bite mark slowly. The fur lays flat beneath her touch easily. 

She has nothing to lose. The only one between the two of them that has anything to lose in what she’s about to reveal is Astarion.

“I know,” she hoarsely whispers, staring down at the mostly healed wound on the animal. Nothing more than pin-prick scars, now. 

“Excuse me?”

She clears her throat, taking a deep gulp of air for bravery, “I know about your condition. And I already knew a vampire had killed this boar. I didn’t need your expert opinion on the manner – I needed to get you alone.” 

Really, she could have phrased it better.

He’s on the defensive immediately, taking two large steps backwards as he stares down at her, “What do you mean my condition?” 

She finally tears her gaze from the boar to look at him as earnestly as she can offer, knees threatening to cry out in pain as she lifts herself back up slowly. It’s hard to imagine Astarion being scared of her – he has an advantage of height, he has an advantage of skill, he has the advantage of speed. He is more than physically capable of fighting her off if she were to attack him. And yet he’s still scared . 

“You’re a vampire.”

There’s no taking back the words once she said them. She expected a weight to lift once she spoke them outloud, but the look on Astarion’s face weighs heavier than the knowledge ever did. 

“You think I’m-”

“I don’t think you are,” she corrects, “I know you are. And stop reaching for your dagger, because I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve known for a while. If I was going to do anything about it, I already would have.” 

Astarion is a vampire, and Aruna is part-drow. Two creatures of the night, two keeper of the shadows, face to face. Two sides of the same damn coin . 

His chest heaves, likely out of habit, as he stares her down. He’s waiting for her next move, her next word. His eyes wearily watch as though he might be able to predict such, even if only a moment before it happens. All he would need is a second – he is a vampire, after all. 

“When?” 

She raises an eyebrow, “When what?” 

“When did you figure it out?” 

He takes another step back, and she pretends not to notice. 

“I just… did,” she pathetically lies. In all fairness, once she knew, she did realize that he hadn’t been the most subtle about it all, “You’ve got fangs, you’re always leaving camp in the night, you never eat. Shall I go on?”

He’s fairly quick to shake his head, “Those things don’t mean I’m a vampire.”

“But you are, aren’t you?” 

She’s almost giving him out. If he really wants to lie, now is his chance. He can deny, he can lie, he can ferociously dispel all her claims. And if he does, this can simply stay a secret between the two of them.

Her knowing, and him knowing that she knows. 

His hand still twitches by the handle of his dagger, “And… if I am? Then what?” 

“Then I tell you to be more discreet, and stop leaving your leftovers-” she pauses, kicking the boar at her feet ever so gently, “-out for others to find out. Just because I’m not in the business of hunting vampires doesn’t mean others share the sentiment.” 

She doesn’t even know how everyone back at camp would react. But she knows that if he comes clean, if he simply says the magic words, she’ll defend him. An objectively stupid choice, but the hill she has chosen to die on all the same. Since the day she awoke on the beach, she has known one thing; save Astarion, no matter the cost. 

Perhaps this is what the letter meant. 

Maybe something happened from that time she has caught glimpses of in her memory she recovered, and it all links back to this pivotal moment. Even though it doesn’t make much sense given the fact she already knew he was a vampire in the memory, he had spoken freely about it and she’d even let him drink from her, it’s something to cling to. A comforting blanket of reassurance that she’s making the right choice. 

He bites down on his lip in contemplation, and the tip of one of his fangs catches in the sunlight. It ignites the urge within her to keep speaking, to keep reassuring .

“It’s the same as the way Gale is a prideful wizard, or Lae’zel is a blood-thirsty githyanki, or I am apparently part drow. It doesn’t change anything, Astarion. I just… I’d like to know I’m not crazy.” 

When he stays silent, still several paces between the two of them, she decides to try one last tactic. 

Her tadpole squirms, almost in defiance, as she focuses her outreach to him. It’s not just to open a line of communication. This time, she has a far different goal in mind. She’s doing far more than just making snide remarks back and forth – she’s opening her mind to him. Inviting him in, beckoning across the ocean between them for him to see that she means no harm. 

She only knows that he’s felt the invitation when that same warm pressure of his presence within her mind washes over her, down her cerebral and along her spine. 

It’s all hesitant pokes and prods, uncertain wiggles as his face scrunches in simultaneous concentration and shock. She’s completely forgotten her memory that she had meant to hold sacred, has forgotten all the secrets she was drowning beneath the weight of. She trusts him; she knows he won’t go further than necessary, not with so much currently on the line. 

And even if he does, she’s decided he’s worth the risk. There are far worse choices to offer exposure of her secrets to. 

“You…” he whispers, eyes pinching shut and mouth twisting as she feels him dig deeper, “You’ve known. Hells, you- you’re not lying, are you?” 

Not at all, she calls out over the connection rather than out loud. 

His eyes snap back open. You’ve known, and you haven’t tried to stake me. 

You said you would have preferred decapitation, if I’m not mistaken. 

His laugh slips out in real time, and she can tell he hadn’t meant to the guffaw to ring out loud. But it does; it falls from his lips and echoes in the space around them. Pitched high with his shock, and cut short with realization. 

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” his tone is soft, as hesitant as all his prodding within her mind. She was right, though, as she feels his presence begin to retreat – he didn’t go further than necessary. 

“Partially,” she shrugs, daring to step closer to him and diminish some of the physical distance, “And partially just because you seem to enjoy being a royal pain in my ass.” 

“I saved you, if I recall correctly.” 

“I thought you were still in the business of denying responsibility for my survival?” 

His mouth snaps shut, but he doesn’t even flinch as she takes another timid step forward. Baby steps. He’s not turning heel and running away from her. He knows that she knows, and he’s still here. 

Save Astarion. For the first time their entire journey, it almost feels possible. 

“I may have been… slightly responsible for it,” he secedes, eyeing her warily. 

She hums, looking deeply within his carmine eyes. There’s a flame of trust that flickers beneath the surface that had not been there moments before. Not even when they’d spoken in their private moments. No, it’s something new, something warm . A door unlocked from this entire revelation. 

“I wasn’t lying before. Vampires are dangerous,” he reminds her suddenly as she’s managed to sneak her way to nearly be toe-to-toe with him, “I could kill you as easily as I saved you. You are aware of that, yes?” 

“I am.”

“I’m the one who killed that boar.”

“I’d hope so. I have enough trouble keeping up with one vampire, let alone two.”

His face twitches as she says it, nose scrunching slightly as he unexpectedly corrects her, “I’m merely a spawn, not a true vampire. Still dangerous but… The devil’s in the details, I suppose.” 

That she did not know. He watches her reaction in real time, and clearly mistakes all her curiosity for shock. Or maybe fear. Maybe he’s still waiting for the other shoe drop, she realizes. 

“It means I’m less powerful,” he vomits out quickly, holding both hands up, palms facing her, “I swear-”

She breathlessly laughs, reaching up and grabbing his wrists, yanking until his hands are back to being limp as his sides, “I gathered that much, Astarion. I just haven’t heard the terms before. Brain full of holes, remember?” 

His entire body relaxes slowly, shoulders slumping as he looks as though he has to fight rolling his eyes at her, “Ah, yes. Pardon my forgetfulness. I suppose this means you’ll be wanting a full history lesson on vampires, then? When we return to camp?” 

It would certainly help. She can’t deny the way her curiosity burns and gnaws at her insides, desperate for more knowledge, especially when it concerns him. She could push him to his precipice, force him to exhume all that he is to her as soon as possible. That selfish and ravenous hunger would certainly be delighted. But she can also see all his hesitancy and discomfort with the topic. And for some unknown reason, her heart has no desire to corner him in that way. 

“You don’t have to,” she tells him quietly, finally shuffling back an inch and giving him space, “I’d like to know more, of course, but only whenever you’re ready to tell me.” 

She means it. Gods, she truly means it, even if the unknown infuriates her to no end. 

His lips crack into a lopsided grin, “How… sweet of you. I fear it’ll never be something I’m particularly eager to indulge in, though. The sooner we get it over with, the better.” 

She remembers the ache from the memory. The sharp pain, the stabbing twist at his words. 

Nothing good. Nothing good awaits him back in Baldur’s Gate. 

For all that Aruna wishes to learn more about Astarion, she also fears that it might mean finding out exactly what that nothing good might be. And she’s unsure if her heart, if her soul cleaved in two, will be able to handle the information once more. 

“Just tell me when,” she forces herself to say steadily, holding his gaze. Nothing good. Nothing good waits for him. Nothing good. “And I’m all ears, my dearest Astarion.” 

Something about her own version of the endearment echoed back in his direction leaves an ashen taste on her tongue. 

He must taste it as well, as he cringes slightly. “Perhaps leave the flowery endearments to the professionals, my friend.” 

It nearly goes over her head. Nearly the entire walk back to camp, she’s in ignorant bliss. But once she picks up on it, somewhere between Astarion’s grand tale of the night in which he’d hunted down the boar and him scolding her clumsiness as she bumps into yet another tree branch, she revels in the soft whisper of it. 

He called her his friend . Something he has already claimed to have never experienced, and yet he’s bestowed the honor upon her . 

It’s almost soft enough to override the pestering twisting of her gut regarding the mystery that remains the letter in her pack. Almost. 

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[zoeykallus]

Ohhh HC time!

How would TBB and let`s see: Maul, Fox and Kit Fisto ( I just had to add 3 others hehe ) and how they would reach to their sweet lill lady wanting to adopt a pet?

Ohhh kay!

:)) Pets! Love pets! Let's see if the batchers do too!

The Bad Batch /Maul /Fox/Kit Fisto x FemReader HC's - Adopting A Pet

Mostly Fluff

Hunter

"A pet?"

You nod eagerly.

"I don't know love"

Hunter is hesitant. He may be fond of animals and nature, but taking care of an animal is a certain responsibility, he knows.

"But I don't know where else to take him. He was injured, his pack left him behind and-"

"Wow wow wow, slow down! You already have an animal? His pack? What are we talking about here?"

"A wolf pup."

Hunter's eyes widen.

"Cyare! Are you out of your mind! Where are you hiding him?"

You lead him to your bunk where a small dog pup sits. Hunter laughs in relief.

"That's not a wolf, honey. That's a puppy dog."

You play surprised.

"Oh. We couldn't have kept a wolf?"

"No, absolutely not"

"But we can keep a dog?"

"Yes, a dog is quite different"

You kiss him on the cheek and beam at him.

Hunter blinks.

"Wait a minute… you tricked me"

Your smile turns into a wide grin.

"But I did it with love"

Hunter sighs, but can't resist your smile or those cute puppy eyes.

Echo

He is not fundamentally averse to the idea, but he has reservations and wants you to deal with it and think about it rationally. The life you are currently leading, as mercenaries and on the run from the Empire, is precarious and unsteady. There are some animals that do not fit into such a life and also some that cannot stay for a long time in closed spaces like a spaceship in space. Then there are some that would not survive hyperspace and so on.

His objections are unfortunately logical, conclusive and finally discouraging.

Still, he surprises you when he arrives one day with a Loth cat.

"This one can go to its own bathroom, stay inside for quite a while, and is quite independent. You were so sad when we realized we probably wouldn't have a pet, so I thought again."

You stroke the cat and give Echo a long, loving kiss. He smiles contentedly.

Wrecker

Wrecker is fond of animals. Very much so. But he suggests the wildest things, including even a Nexu. You actually have to slow him down and talk to him for a while, because he jumps from one wild idea to the next.

As he suggests a ranccor you sigh wearily.

"Honey, come on be reasonable," you say a little impatiently by now.

However, his pout softens you again immediately and you gently kiss his chin.

"Honey it has to be an animal we can keep on the Marauder. We are on the road a lot."

In the end, Wrecker persuades you to go with him to get one of those colorful birds that can be taught to talk. To your discomfort, Crosshair has taken a liking to secretly teaching him swear words. Whenever someone turns off the lights, he says, "Bantha Ass" and when the lights come on, "Stupid Hunter," repeatedly.

Tech

Unfortunately he is allergic to pretty much everything that has fur. Dogs, cats, horses even nexu. Tech has already started to teach Wreckers bird some things and to exhaust the animal's moderate intellect.

But you insist on getting your own pet. However, you can't think of much, since most animals are eliminated for various reasons, not just his allergy.

While you're still thinking and racking your brains, Tech has already got something. He arrives with two cute mini turtles.

"Don't need much, easy to take care of, quiet and allergy-free," Tech says contentedly as he sets up the massive terrarium in your cabin.

You had actually imagined something else, but somehow they are cute and Tech is so enthusiastic about his idea that you don't want to contradict him.

Crosshair

He is a cat guy. You are sure of that. He resists your desire to have a pet, Crosshair tells you quite clearly that he is against it.

"I don't want to have a critter to take care of. I'm fine with my brothers and my needy little girlfriend."

You roll your eyes and snort. You turn away, but the last word has not been spoken. You just get a cat and you can count on it, he'll be grumpy and upset about it.

However, he will cuddle with the cat, they will be very fond of each other and Crosshair will take care of the animal, gladly even. But if you catch him doing that, he will give you a sharp look. It takes quite a while until he admits that you were right.

Maul

Pets he doesn't have directly, unless you count the Nexu he tamed. However, he is not very cuddly. The Nexu is more meant to scare and hurt enemies. But Maul likes the animal, he takes very good care of it and is concerned about its safety.

In fact, you are afraid to get another animal because the Nexu might eat it. You will not get Maul to break away from the ravenous animal.

Unfortunately, it looks like you'll have to give up your desire for a traditional pet.

"You can pet the nexu too".

Fox

Fox is the type for cats or ferrets. You will most likely not be able to make something else appealing to him.

He likes independent animals that do not require much care. Fox works a lot, generally does not have much free time and a pet in constant need of care is rather counterproductive. He will most likely already have a pet cat when you meet him, a well behaved animal that he can take to the office.

It is unlikely that you will get other animals together except maybe a second cat.

Kit Fisto

The Nautolan is close to nature, especially to water. No surprise when you consider what race he belongs to. Fisto finds pets rather unnatural and therefore it is difficult to unlikely to convince him to have a pet. Even ornamental fish, even if he finds them beautiful, do not please him.

"These animals swim in their confined tank all day long, it's a depressing sight"

If you have your own apartment and pets, he won't find fault with that. However, he's not thrilled about it either.

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

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@darkangel4121

[konata-izumi-kinny-writes]

Captain John x F! Clown Lolita Reader

(with a pet crocodile)

Romantic HCs and mini-fic

[Tw: clown stuff, Captain has some... interesting.. nicknames, Mini-fic includes tons of death. Ya use acidic cotton candy to melt peeps n stuff.

THERE IS MENTION OF CIRCUS ANIMALS, THEY ARE NOT REAL IN THIS FIC. I DO NOT SUPPORT OR CONDONE THE ACT OF ABUSING WILD ANIMALS FOR ENTERTAINMENT.

Your pet croc is NOT considered a circus animal, you share a good relationship and you take care of it unlike how circus animals are treated.]

Outfit for minific (feel free to imagine a different color scheme):

🎪 He thought you were really fuckin weird at first, especially with a croc wearing a clown collar following you around.

🎡 You definitely grew on him though, lemme tell ya. He loves the croc now too.

🐘 Bro finds you hilarious! You're able to make him laugh without even trying

🎭 but the crush REALLY hit him when you surprised him with some snacks and a balloon animal.

🍿 He talked about you a lot to Steve. He was happy to hear at first but after a while he was just flat-out irritated that John wasn't confessing to you.

🎠 You eventually confessed by attaching a love note and cotton candy to your croc, and having it give them to John.

🍭 Later on he had someone bring you to his office. He sat you down as your croc jumped on his lap.

🔮 "So... you have feelings for me, huh?"

"..yes sir, i do."

"Heh, never though you felt the same, sugartits."

John smiles at you before plucking a small piece of cotton candy off of the giant cone of it you gifted him and eating it.

"Haha... quite a cruel joke, sir...... er- was it a joke??"

"Nope, it was not. You're mine now, babe."

He gets up and put his hands on your waist before he kissed you on the forehead. You give him a hug after kissing his cheek.

AND THATS HOW YALL GOT TOGETHER

🎢 and yes he calls you "Sugartits" on a regular basis. No matter how you identify... hes calling you that. (Unless you ask him not to)

🎪 Hes a good dad to your croc. Gives it lots of back scritches.... and enemy corpses.

🎡 He loves how fluffy and full your skirts are. He'll have you spin for him among other things. You're pretty, you're cute, you're his silly princess, and he loves you.

🐘 Despite how silly you are, Captain thinks you're the hottest person on earth.... which you are.

🎭 He honks your nose

🍿 Pet names are; Babe, Lovey, Sweet Cheeks, Sugartits, Tiger, Dove, Cookie, Jellybean, and Circus Peanut

🍭 For that very reason, the past months you've been working on some acts... deadly acts. Along with fatal treats to give out.

🎠 Because he loves you so much, John is very protective of you. Obviously. Yall are in a war, why wouldn't he be protective? But lately hes been feeling stressed af so hes even MORE protective.

🔮 Balloons that drop people from extreme heights, an electric whip, acid spraying flower, amall robotic animals that maul anyone in sight (didnt have enough materials for life sized ones), hoops with extendable blades, and a pair of uzis in case things go wrong.

🎢 As for the snacks, you made acidic cotton candy, exploding popcorn, Snowcones that freeze people from the inside, poisonous Funnel cake, expanding circus peanuts that choke people or break their stomach, lots of things.

🎪 So you packed up said items in a huge backpack, put on a cloak and followed John and his team to wherever they were going.

"Dying of Laughter"

You followed John and his team to the other team's base, they then split off into different sections, hiding behind rubble and in ditches. Everything was in place.

Were they ambushing them, mayhaps they were trying to get the upperhand over something? In the midst of your thoughts you see the other team starting to leave, so you jump out into the clearing before John can give the team permission to fire.

"Wait- who the fuck is that?!"

"Uh hi??"

"Whats with the fucking bag?"

"Hey dude is that your mom under that cloak?"

"Very funny, shut it."

Murmurs spread across the atmosphere like a virus on both sides. John was confused and perplexed, is this another enemy, who the fuck is this person, is it a person??

"HEY!" He shouted towards you, you turn his way to acknowlege him.

"Who are you!?"

".....I suggest saving the questions for after the show, sweetie."

He recognized your voice immediately, and radioed his team to hold their fire... but he still didn't know what you're doing out here.

Now the figurative stage is yours. You throw off the cloak as robotic doves fly out, revealing your attire.

"Helloooo~🎶 Its been a long time since i've had an audience, it feels just like it used to.... other than the fact that i'm in a fucking post-apocalyptic war."

That last line earned a few chuckles from the audience, you take that as a sign to keep going.

"But of course, I can't sustain you on jokes only, so i got tricks too, and snacks. After all, we gotta add some spice so things aren't boring, hehe, thats what she said."

Almost half the audience guffawed at the jest, including John. While they were distracted, one of your robo-doves delivered a note to Steve and John.

'Don't eat the snacks. And do not engage in the acts in any way. They are deadly.'

They quickly relayed the message to tthe rest of the team. Captain knows what you're doing now, and he loves it.

"Now what do do first.... anyone have requests?"

"Balloon animals!!"

Perfect. After making and handing out said balloon animals to the enemy team upon request, you moved on the the second act.

"So.. animals! We don't really see them anymore, do we? Quite sad, I loved them... i still do. And i managed to acquired some!"

Your robotic circus animals came out of your bag and did their routines. Some interacting with the enemy team, gaining their affections.

The rest of the acts went smoothly and without issue as well. Everyone was happy and enjoying your little displays, time for the sillystring to catch fire.

You let out a laugh of your own before you pull out a red button. You go over to John and give him a kiss, then sit on his lap. His face is bright red. You give a smile before you cheerfully say to the other team...

"This was fun, it really was. But enough with the games... this is war, goodbyyyye~🎶"

And with the press of that button, everything goes haywire. People are melting, exploding, suffocating, freezing, being mauled, just dying in general.

Hours later you're skipping back to base alongside John and his team, happy as a clam. There weren't as many casualties as usual, and you finally got to be on the front lines with the love of your life.

It was after you got your pajamas on that you were summoned to John's office.

"Hello, honey!~🎶 what do ya need me for?"

"Can we... talk for a second?"

"....did i do something wrong, did you not like the show, dearie?"

"I did, and that was very clever! I'm proud... but worried at the same time. Babe, you really put yourself in danger out there! In fact you still are!"

"What do you mean, love?"

"Sweet cheeks, now that they know what you look like and who you are to me, they will actively hunt you down if you so much as take a step out of base."

"Ah.... shoulda thought of that... sorry John, I really wanted to help. You've been stressed lately and i figured some support would take some weight off your shoulders."

"Heh.. I appreciate it sugartits, you really did help us out there... hey maybe you can support me in a different way."

You laugh at his teasing before you give him a hug and pepper his face with kisses.

"Okay, Circus Peanut. Its time for bed, by the way, what happened to all of those weird little animals ya made?"

He questioned as he lay down beside you on your shared cot.

"Oh, i have them stored in some crates behind the showers. If its okay, I'd like to control them from base to help you more, I added speakers so i can talk to you too."

"That sounds amazing, dove... goodnight, I love you."

You give him a kiss before you close your eyes.

"Love you too, sweetie.."

Lmfao the end. this is very cringe

Requests are closed, also why tf do my fics always end with you falling asleep-

Thanks for reading :)

[the---wallflower]

Cats

In the corner of Shinya’s eye, Cambry jumps up onto the coffee table, holding a small bundle in his mouth. Probably a dead bird, Shinya thinks as he turns the page of his novel. Cambry’s always proud when he catches a stray mouse and presents it to one of them. Shinya’s not sure if they’re supposed to be gifts or just him trying to help. Either way, it keeps the mice population down in their house, which is surprisingly sizable considering the wolf pack that lives close by.

Wolves are extinct in Japan, but Tsunagu fought to have them brought back, reaching out to the International Wolf Center to do so. It took years to do and required a bit of help from one of the Kurota Sidekicks, but eventually, Tsunagu managed to secure a small pack of four wolves, a mated pair, and their siblings. He brought them to a large plot of land out in the forest with a lake and installed a security system that wards the wolves away from the edge of the property and pings Tsunagu’s phone when non-approved people cross that boundary.

He brought in deer and a few other animals so they could acclimate to their new surroundings before the wolves arrived. Hawks was actually there when he released the deer, and a while later, Shinya helped him release the wolves. He thought it was insane, but completely on brand for the eccentric Fiber Hero, and so was choosing to build his house on the land too. Shinya’s sure the construction team almost fainted when Tsunagu told them “Don’t mind the wolves,” and he was certain one of the wolves would maul Tsunagu one day.

Little did he know he’d one day live there with Tsunagu and his wolves. That he’d go to sleep looking through the skylight above his bed and out at the stars beyond with Tsunagu at his side. Or help him take care of his niece/adopted daughter and Bakugou. That they’d have 3 of their own kids, the oldest of which seems to have inherited Tsunagu’s love of wolves, and their youngest is an absolute menace.

Shinya reaches for his drink but freezes and blinks at the two fuzzy balls of fluff Cambry has placed on the coffee table, and the third he carries in his mouth as he jumps on the table again. He meows a happy greeting to Shinya around the furball in his mouth and sits beside the other two, looking at Shinya with a hopeful, expectant gaze in his green eyes. He resembles his owner too much. Oh, dear.

“Tsunagu!” Shinya calls, raising his voice so Tsunagu can hear him from the other room. “Your cat brought you some gifts!”

“Gifts?” Tsunagu echos, sounding closer than Shinya initially thought, and a moment later, he enters the room. “What do you mean gif—oh…how did he even find those?”

“How did he get them past the wolves?” Shinya quips without hesitation, and Tsunagu shoots him a judgmental, disapproving look at his dark humor. “What are you going to do with them?”

“Don’t you mean we?”

“It’s your cat.”

“Our cat.”

“I don’t recall agreeing to that.”

“The ring on your finger states otherwise.”

“Does it?” Shinya inquires with faux curiosity, plucking the ring off his finger and inspecting the inside of it. “Nope, no words here.”

Tsunagu flicks a finger and one of the throw pillows flies off the couch and hits Shinya in the face, but it just makes his smile wider. “I suppose I can turn them over to a vet.”

“Or,”

“I swear if you say ‘toss them to the wolves’, I will take that ring from you.”

“Or,” Shinya persists. “we could keep them, Tsumugu would love them.”

“What do you know about raising kittens?!”

“There’s a lovely, convenient thing called the internet, darling.”

Tsunagu huffs, and if Shinya didn’t know any better, he’d assume Tsunagu rolled his eyes too, but Tsunagu never rolls his eyes at anything no matter what happens. Getting slapped full force by your mother for rolling your eyes at her tends to have that effect. “Fine, I think we’ve got a box around here somewhere that we can keep them in, but you and Tsumugu are taking care of them.”

“Alright.” Shinya answers, fully aware that Tsumugu and their other kids will play with the kittens, leaving Shinya and Tsunagu to actually care for them.

[crazywolfsthings]

I have to say something about this because it is really starting to piss me off and I need to rant about this to get it off my chest, so warning for long post ahead! And I apologize if I seem all over the place, I'm writing this sleep deprived and have nothing but rage fueling me at this point.

The fact that people are getting so upset about Disney putting a scene about a girl going through her first period is so fucking stupid. And everytime I hear them trying to make an argument against it, it physically hurts to listen to it.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, Disney's newest show, "Baymax!" which is a spinoff series of the movie "Big Hero 6", has a 1 minute and 30 second scene where Baymax helps a young unprepared, confused and scared girl, who is stuck in a public bathroom, get through her first period. Baymax leaves to get her menstrual products to help but is uncertain as to what exactly he should get for her. He asks for help and people nearby gives him different options to choose from. Still unsure as to what to get for her, he buys a large variety and gives them to the girl. The scene is basically Baymax helping a young girl who's going through puberty and is experiencing a natural body function but is uncertain in how to handle it.

And people are complaining about the fact that children are being exposed to such "sexualized content". Bro, wtf do you find sexual about a period? It's a part of puberty, something that every person goes through. The only people who think this way are the sick bastards who sees girls/women as nothing more than sexual objects and that a period is an indicator that the girl is "ready to reproduce".

To start off, periods are not an adult topic. It's not something that should be censored for children. Girls aren't getting periods when they're 18 years old, when they've become "fully grown women". They're getting them while they're still young children. The average age that a child gets their first period is around 16, at the latest, and 10, at the earliest. Not to mention that the recommended age that you're child should learn about them is when they're 8 at the latest because there are cases where they can get them as young as 8.

People claim that Disney "went too far" by putting such a topic in one of their shows and are now refusing to watch anything of Disney's except for their earlier works since they're much more "child friendly". Like, bro, no they're not!

For example;

- They're ok with their child watching The Lion King, THE LION KING; a movie where the villain explicitly states that he plans on killing his own brother and child nephew for selfish reasons.

- A movie where you see a character literally being thrown to his DEATH, followed by a scene where his son finds his corpse ON SCREEN and begins to cry and cuddle up to said corpse.

- A movie where the villain blames the CHILD for the death of his father, telling him to "Run away and never return!", before sending a group of hyenas to KILL HIM.

A movie where multiple animal skeletons are shown onscreen more than once. Where in one scene where the villain grabs a fucking skull and sings a little diddy to it. FUN!

- A movie where the ending shows the shadows of the villain literally being mauled to death and presumably eaten by a pack of hyenas.

Yet despite all that, The Lion King is considered a "classic children's" movie that parents have no problems with showing their child. But the second a TAMPON is on screen, THEN they're worried about their child's "innocence".

"BuT mY cHiLd DoEsN't WaNt To SeE a ScEnE aBoUt PaDs!¡!¡"

Well, I'm pretty sure they also didn't want to see a scene where a guy gets fucking murdered by his own brother yet you have no problems with them watching that now do you?

"LeTs BoYcOtT dIsNeY!¡!¡"

Oh what's next, you're gonna boycott fucking Wal-Mart for also having menstrual care products? Go up to the store manager and demand to have them remove the entire aisle because your child might see it and get traumatized??

"cHiLdReN sHoUlD bE lEfT tO jUsT bE cHiLdReN!¡!¡"

Oh so 10 year old girls all of a sudden stop being children once they get theirs. Nothing is stopping them from being kids why are you keen on gatekeeping information form them?

"ThEy ShOuLd Be LeFt OuT oF aDuLt SiTuAtIoNs!¡!¡

Periods concern children too since they start when, surprise surprise, you're still a child.

"tHeY wOuLdN't UnDeRsTaNd!¡!¡"

By the time they're 6 or 7 years old, most kids can understand the basics of periods. And if they can understand murder and death they can understand periods.

"Oh BuT gIrLs ArE tAuGhT tHiS bY oThErS, wHy DoEs It NeEd To Be ShOwN oN tV!¡!¡"

If they already know about why tf are you so pissed about them being shown it? They're also taught about death and such and you have no problems with murder being shown in the movies. Why is this so different?

"dIsNeY sHoUlDn'T bE tRyInG tO pArEnT oThErS cHiLdReN, tHeY'lL kNoW aBoUt It WhEn ThEiR pArEnTs DeCiDe ThEy ShOuLd KnOw AbOuT iT!¡!¡"

That's like getting mad at someone for teaching your 2 year old how to walk before you decided that they were "ready to learn". If your child has to learn something like what periods are from a kids show before you teach it to them, then you've done a shit job in parenting your child. Maybe you should actually educate your child instead of constantly shoving them in front of a TV screen.

"DiSnEy HaS bEcOmE tOo WoKe!¡!¡"

Since when has having a normal bodily function become woke??

You really want to boycott a show to protect children, then fucking boycott shows that are like Toddlers & Tiaras where they have young, YOUNG girls put on heavy makeup and dance in a fucking two piece.

And the funniest thing is, a lot of these complaints I've seen about this scene are from fucking GROWN MEN keen on gatekeeping important information from young girls. And I'm sick and tired of all these sensitive snowflakes freaking out over a fucking maxi pad. Like seriously, grow up. Properly educate your child so that they don't wake up one day confused, in pain and bleeding everywhere completely unprepared. Educate your children. Actually be a parent.

[leopardmask-ao3]

NHH 2022 Day 23: The Wolves in the High Tower

Link to the challenge Today’s Word is: Werewolf Characters: Bdubs, Ren, Etho Season: HC9 Other tags/warnings: animal attack mention Word Count: 757

Summary: There are two wolves inside you. Actually, they're inside your house.

Read it on ao3 or

Bdubs wasn't sure at first what made him jolt awake in the middle of the night. He looked around his little bedroom, halfway up his tower, and in the bright moonlight shining through the window, he couldn't see anything amiss. Something echoed in the back of his mind, something he might have heard in his sleep, or maybe in a dream...

A shadow moved, cast on the wall of the staircase that led upward.

Bdubs let out a small gasp, watching the shadow warily. It kept moving, slinking downward, closer, closer. Until soon, the shadow was followed by a big, brown wolf, filling up the stairwell. Its blue eyes immediately landed on Bdubs.

"O-oh. Um, hi? Goodbye!" Bdubs carefully got out of bed and tried to creep around the edge of the room, headed for the stairs down.

He hadn't even reached the first step when another wolf rounded the corner coming up.

Bdubs could have guessed where the first wolf came from, but this one, he knew. A white wolf, with a scar across one eye... he shouldn't be surprised, really, that it could operate a piston door.

He looked toward the window, but it was quickly blocked by the brown wolf. In the tiny room, it was easy for the two pack animals to guard every entrance at once. They both growled.

"Guys-?"

The wolves both pounced at once. Bdubs screamed as claws dug into his arms and chest and stomach. Teeth snapped shut around his neck.

Sunlight streamed in the window.

Bdubs blinked at it, briefly confused as to where he was. Everything seemed normal... had last night even been real?

He swung his legs out of bed - and cringed at the bloodstain on the floor. Okay. Parts of it had actually happened. But had he just gone back to sleep after respawn? Bdubs had definitely dreamed something after that, but any memory of the contents of the dream had faded with the morning.

Wood creaked in the stairwell, and then Ren was trotting into the room. "Good morning, Bdubs!"

"Yes, good morning," Bdubs replied.

"Erm..." Ren shifted from foot to foot. "B, can I ask you a bit of an awkward question?"

"Sssure. Go ahead."

Ren's ears flattened guiltily. "Did, uh... did either of us bite you last night?"

"Bite-" Bdubs glanced sidelong at the blood on the floor again. He remembered that part well enough. Claws and teeth both, for sure. Bdubs had no idea who had done what, though, and Ren looked so guilty already, and Bdubs didn't want to make Ren feel worse... Besides, it was Bdubs who had separately invited two werewolves to live in the same house as he did, so he was bound to get mauled eventually, and it was all fine now, anyway. "N-no, I don't remember any biting. Just a lot of clawing, yes. But no hard feelings, right? It's not your fault that I make such a tasty... I-I mean, uh. Such a, uh, an appealing guy to... tear apart. Sure. Let's go with that."

Ren laughed, his embarrassment somewhat dispelled. "That's good, that's good. I'll let the big E know everything is fine and dandy with you, and we'll, uh, be more careful next time, yeah?"

-

Bdubs couldn't seem to calm down enough to go to sleep. Was he worried? Tonight was a full moon, after all, and even though Ren and Etho had promised to shut themselves in more securely, werewolves had a way of breaking loose in surprising ways when they needed to get out and run.

Yeah, that was probably what was making Bdubs jittery. Remembering the last full moon, how they had cornered him... the thought of even trying to sleep tonight made him itch.

Bdubs was in his room as the sun set, but he still wasn't tired. He wasn't sure he was thinking clearly, either, though, so he probably needed the rest.

Bdubs was downstairs as the moon peeked into view outside. He scratched at his side with one hand, while he lit the candles that opened a secret entrance with his other.

Bdubs was upstairs as the moonlight reached the upper windows. He had fallen a few times getting up here. He rubbed at fur behind his ears as he unbarred the door.

Two wolves met him at the halfway point of the tower, watching a cracking, rippling, shifting.

Three wolves dashed out of the Monolith. One with brown fur, one with white, and one slightly smaller wolf with fur as black as the night sky.

[ghostampede]

The world ended. Half the population was wiped out from the explosions, animals are distorted beyond belief, and everything is quieter than it ever has been before. But life still moves forward. Many families by the Organ live out of old storage containers and deteriorating train stations. The train tracks outlining the village are overgrown, completely reclaimed by the earth. As a kid, when this all started, I used to apologize to the grass for everything as humans did, as if it was still listening or still cared. The grass never responded. the grass only stared back. Me and Hugo take care care of the chickens by the forest nearby. It’s finally begun to truly flourish into what it should be. the kids often run by and cling on to the vibrant branches to see who can swing into the coop and steal an egg from the coop. Hugo often pretends like he doesn’t see it when parents ask, but his eye is always on them. Right aways in past the pens and the trees there’s a rickety cottage we still pay visit to after our village chores are done. Mrs. Langley was the only one with a legitimate house, her husband built the cottage before his passing in the later years of what our scientists now call Age 1.1. He was a nice man from what I recall, quite the shame he got mauled by a clicker rabbit in the way that he did, their green teeth still disgust the shit out of me. Anyways. Mrs. Langley often sat on her porch and told stories to everyone about the old world. She told us about smokey skies and towering buildings, of electric technology and global innovation. I still remember all of it, i wasn’t as young as the elders act like i was, but i still listened to every story attentively just like Little Vanessa did. Little Vanessa, not to be confused with Older Vanessa, was the youngest villager at the end of Age 2.0, only 4 years younger than me, now protects the new generation as everyone’s older sister. As the sky went from a horrific orange to a vibrant blue again and we know longer lived in a chaotic cacophony of agony, she seemed to be the biggest change in everyone’s eyes, going from confused toddler to the oldest of the new generation was absurd. Mrs. Langley never admitted it when she was here but seeing how Little Vanessa grew up gave her hope for oncoming years. She left after Ayaan’s 16th birthday, I think, he was the first one born in Age 2.0 so seeing him grow up as well made her realize just how little she had seen of the new world, so she packed up her things and left. We haven’t seen her since. Life still goes on. Many might expect life to be be a lot worse than it was, and it was don’t get me wrong, but when Age 2.0 ended and 2.1 officially began, most day were just filled with helping Hugo with his new Splintereood leg prosthetics before making dinner (River Smoke Chicken, usually) or stopping Maia and Ayaan from feeding the spider cats the last of the Mist Market’s weekly rations (a weekly occurrence, funnily enough). It sucks sometimes, of course it does, it always gets worse before it’s better. But life goes on, and you have no choice but to keep living. At least that’s how I see it. Don’t tell Hugo though, he’ll never let me live it down. - Best Wishes, A.C. Marigold

[obey-me-apocalypso-official]

Apocalypso! In the OM events!

But described instead of drawn cuz there are way too many.

These are just short descs so i don't forget my ideas

Paws and claws

Conquest: a white panther. An even rarer sight than black panthers! It boosts his ego. Not only is he a predator- he's a super rare variant of one?! Woahhh~ his outfit is monochrome, mostly white, and accented with red and gold. Hah! Suck it diavolo! He's even rarer than you!! (It really doesn't matter it's just color.) he kinda wishes he had been an eagle. His old wings are something he misses....

War: a shark- his outfit is thorn and ripped up yet remains a fancy touch to it, as an apex predator of the sea. This follows his character since while Sharks are infamous for being dangerous, they're actually not that aggressive! Some even enjoy being pet by divers~

Famine: a hyena. Deceptively strong creatures. Hyenas are actually better hunters than wolves! Don't diss his size, he can maul Lucifer. Hyenas also follow a female-dominated hierarchy so him being androgynous makes sense. Hiding as a female to stay top of the pack is something he'd do. Anything for survival. His outfit is ragged, clearly he's been in brawls, but still accented with silver.

Death: a condor. The biggest kind- with a massive wingspan. They clean up corpses, aren't they just the embodiment of a reaper yknow?? Also, they're shockingly nice to humans sometime.. his outfit consists of a feather collar and long fabric that drapes over him

Ezekiel: a dove. Even as an animal he's the angels's favorite~ his shirt has flared sleeves and lace covers parts of the outfit. It's nearly completely white.

---

Pirates

Conquest: richly dressed- with a long red cape lined with fur and pelts of dead exotic animals.. he dons a crown and everything, he really thinks he's the king of pirates. He and War match since they share a ship.

War: matched with Conquest. He's moreso the leader of the ship- Conquest just takes credit. The warship is gold and red and could fcking sink an island istg..

Famine: over underestimated because of his androgynous looks- he's merciless in his words and actions. He's often regarded as an overly cocky kid, but he'l let you know he knows perfectly well what he's doing.

Death: he commands a ghost ship. His outfit is a bit more classic but all thorn and ripped up. With holes in it.. his crew are souls lost at sea. People fear his ship like no one's business.

Ezekiel: a writer, he hopped on Conquest and War's ship to document their journey. He claims he takes no part in the pirate-rey, but he seems to handle weapons just fine....

---

Arabian/genie

Conquest: covered in gold, everywhere you can see. He's smug and only grants wishes related to success. He chooses to deny anything else because he thinks they're not worth it

War: no fanservice here!! He covers nearly everything. Even his mouth. He looks like an assassin more than a genie.

Famine: the outfit does not help him in looking more manly. He gets mistaken for a dancer a lot. He's angry about it. He only grants wishes regarding curses....and he'l only do it if you work for it. No free favours from him! (Isn't that your job though????)

Death: drapes, dark and misty outfit... it doesn't cover as much as War but it does a lot. It gives him a shapeless figure.. very mysterious genie.

Ezekiel: gorgeous. Elegant over sexiness- it's modest but accentuates itself very well. Light shades of blue and gold- lots of sheer layered.. he refuses to grant wishes that could cause any harm.

--

Beach outfits

Conquest: golden accessories and a v neck shirt

War: button up unbuttoned and a couple silver accessories. He'l try to start a war with waterguns or something.

Famine: a shirt and a sunhat. Bangles for days! Arms covered in em!

Death: a hoodie. He hates the sun and refuses to go in it. You'l find him sulking in the shade messing around with a crab or something.

Ezekiel: he wears a white button up and shorts. He refuses to swim.

[thedemoninme141]

Ghosts-Chapter 4: A Safe Heaven

"What do we do Ghost?" She asked

"We finish this fight." Ghost answered. . . Nikolai stands in the dark, under the Pacific railroad bridge, with a bag of weaponry, waiting for the masked man to come.

"John is missing sir, and so is his family," Roach said to Nikolai.

Nikolai sighs. He knew this day would come. How long did they think they can hide? "He was right, sir. We can't hide in the shadows anymore. We have to end this, we have to finish the fight," Roach adds. "Man's a ghost, how do we find him now?" As Nikolai says it he sees his computer screen flickering as it all goes black and a command screen opens up.

"UNDER PACIFIC RAIL ROAD BRIDGE HELMET-MOUNTED AN/AVS-6 NIGHT VISION GOOGLES C4 PLASTIC EXPLOSIVE FRAG GRENADES SMOKE GRENADES FLASHBANGS TACTICAL BULLETPROOF ASSAULT VEST MP5-SD USP-SD"

"Did you bring everything?" Ghost asks from the dark.

"Yes, I did. Do you have any intel on John?"

"It's them, Nikolai. As I said, they haven't forgotten us. They won't rest until they have gotten all of us"

"Do you think they killed John yet?"

"No. They won't kill him, they want to make him like... her"

" Are you sure you don't need Roach to come with you? You are gonna need all the help you can get."

"He did his part. I can't risk losing him too."

"Ghost, she might be there, you know? You can't win against her"

"I know, but I won't lose,"

Nikolai sighs.

"Good luck Ghost, It took me a fortune to bring these," Nikolai says handing him the bag. "

"That's a lot of hardware, Ghost. What'd you plan on doing?" Nikolai asks

"What they taught me to do. Kill'em all." Ghost answered.

.

"So why are we walking into a jungle in the evening again?" Jade asked annoyed. "Oh come on, don't tell me that The Jade West is scared, " Tori jokingly retorted. "Hey, I'm not scared, I'm just too exhausted to carry you back home if you get bitten by a snake or mauled by a bear or something," Jade said defensively. "Relax, I come here every weekend. There isn't much wildlife, but I sometimes hear wolves howling, and I always have a stun gun on me. I go to my secret bat cave whenever I need some time alone." Tori reassures "You really believe a stun gun can protect you from a pack of wolves" Jade rolls her eyes. "Wolfs are just like dogs, they are scared of us mostly, there are enough deers and rabbits here for them to eat and ignore us" Jade frowned at the rabbits part. "I just didn't take you as a person who would ever want to be alone," Jade said almost tripping over a rock. "Well, I can be full of surprises too like you Jade," Tori said as she held Jade's hand tightly preventing her from falling. They arrived at Tori's hiding place after a short walk, and it took Jade a moment to realize what was going on. Along with a large lake, there was a port and an old boat, as well as a deserted house. "Welcome to Tori's Lair Miss West," Tori said "Whoa, how did you find this place?" Jade was surprised. "Dad used to come here with me at weekends for fishing. Trina hated it here, "mosquitoes". He stopped when I got into college. So now it's my place, I come here from time to time, tidy up the place, I even brought a generator too for lighting the area so no wild animals come here." Tori takes Jade to the little hut near the cabin where the generator was, She checks if the generator had enough fuel for the night and pulls the choke lever. "If you would do the honour, my lady," She said giving Jade the recoil rope handle. "You dork," Jade said and took the handle from Tori. She pulled it as hard as she could. The loud noise of the generator started as the area around them illuminated. She notices a massive Yew tree on the other side of the lake decked out in christmas lights. "Not for a first attempt. Or do graveyards have generators too?" Tori said smiling. "Did your father do that too?" Jade asked pointing out the tree. "No, I did that," Tori replied. "You took an electrical wire all the way there around the lake and decorated a tree that symbolizes death, for what?" "For you. I had always dreamed of bringing you here, so I thought why not I make something you are really into" Tori answered. Jade was impressed. Beck had never done anything like that, Tori knows her so well. "Tori... I love it, it's amazing, this whole place is amazing, it is quiet and beautiful" The goth said with a smile. "Great! Then let's go to the cabin, I have a lot to show you" Tori said taking Jade's hand.

[fizzydrink698]

touch | chan

pairing: bang chan/reader

word count: 7.2k

genre: romance, werewolf au, frenemies-to-lovers

warnings: swearing, dirty talk, hot and heavy making-out, reader is a capital-B Brat, blood (chan’s got those gnarly-looking claw-marks on his back and chest), yes this was entirely inspired by that wolfgang performance

summary:

Then, he finally notices the first-aid kit in your hand, and he changes.

The corners of his lips turn up, twisting into a smirk. He raises his chin, one eyebrow arching at the sight of you. It’s a smug, quietly dangerous look from Chan that you’ve never seen before. One that sets your nerves on edge, has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

“Why?” Chan asks, and his hand drifts up to undo his top button. “Are you here to play nurse?”

There’s something wrong with Chan.

You notice immediately, trying to stay discreet as you watch through the window at the boys as they wander out of the forest, stretching limbs, ruffling dishevelled hair.

You’re still getting used to the whole werewolf thing.

It had only been a few months ago that you had returned from a semester abroad to find that your life-long best friend, Felix, had been bitten by some sketchy creep at a beach bonfire.

There’s no…lingering guilt about not being there. Or anything.

You’re fine.

But Chan isn’t. That’s what you’re so focused on right now.

His expression is guarded, shoulders tense as he walks just a few steps behind the rest of the group. You watch Felix hang back a second, talking to him, saying something you can’t hear through the window. You see Chan shake his head, patting him on the shoulder, and when Felix says something else, he moves his hand to the back of Felix’s head, scratching it affectionately.

You know objectively that Chan taking in Felix was one of the best things to happen for him. From the little you’ve gleaned about werewolves, you know that packs work like a support network. A new family. It’s good for him.

It just…chafes a little that you’re not a part of it. It feels unfair that the only way to regain that position you once held in Felix’s life would be to get bitten too, suffer through the painful transition, disconnect from society, spend days and weeks and months of your life as a mindless animal ready to attack and maul any living thing in sight–

Chan’s limping.

You catch it. Just barely.

You don’t think anyone else has noticed. You think you only caught it because Chan hasn’t noticed you looking.

Hasn’t noticed you.

You were surprised when Chan approached you a few weeks ago with a proposition. It was a simple enough request – staying at their cabin while the full moon happened, house-sitting while they spent the better part of three days doing their wolf stuff. You could catch up on your schoolwork, spend a few days alone to collect your thoughts.

It was nice. Quiet. Maybe a little lonely. But still nice.

You just didn’t see why you were needed. And Chan didn’t really do much to make you feel wanted either.

The other boys like you, you think. Felix obviously adores you, and the others joke around with you and share smiles and try to give you teasing little compliments when they think they can break you down, make you blush. It hasn’t worked so far, but it’s cute that they’re trying.

But Chan’s different. So warm to his boys, so committed to the role as pack leader – but there’s something off in the way he acts with you. Being a wolf, being a leader, is so intrinsic to his being and it’s all meaningless to you. He has no authority over you. He has nothing in common with you.

And he’s intimidating as fuck.

The first of the group finally make it to the door, filing in as they laugh raucously about some inside joke Felix might catch you up on later.

“Is there anything to eat?” Jisung asks, eyes alight.

You scowl. “Why are you asking me? You think I waited around all weekend, cooking you guys dinner?”

You had made it clear from day one that you weren’t going to be some house mother to these guys, some kind of Wendy to their Lost Boys. You had your own life, and you were doing them a favour just by agreeing to stay in such an isolated cabin, miles away from the rest of civilisation.

But as Jisung’s face slowly turns guilty, his gaze shifting to the floor as he is undoubtedly recalling this same conversation, you can’t help but sigh. “…I tried following Felix’s cookie recipe yesterday. There’s some left in the fridge.”

Jisung’s face lights up, and you try hard to keep your expression neutral when he leans in and kisses your cheek. “Cute.”

You shove him away, scowl firmly back in place. “Only the burned ones are left. Fucking help yourself, asshole.”

Jisung just laughs, already heading for the fridge.

Hyunjin, who had followed right behind him, gives you a smile as he takes a seat at the kitchen counter, attempting to tease out a stray twig knotted in his hair. “Thanks for staying.”

You shrug. “Eh. I got some quiet time. Managed to finish outlining my dissertation. It wasn’t the worst weekend, I guess.”

Seungmin is the next to wander through, and you notice the rips in his shirt, the way his right sleeve hangs off his arm in tatters. Felix has informed you of the perils of clothing as a werewolf, how easily things can rip and snag when you don’t quite have the transformation under control yet. It’s hard to undress when you’re literally in the middle of turning in to a big scary man-sized wolf, you suppose.

Jeongin’s shirt is open, every single button apparently a casualty of transforming, seams along his sleeves and sides burst. He passes you by with a sheepish grin, hair mussed, shoulders straightened out just a touch at the sight of you.

Felix throws his arms around you as soon as he walks through the door, shouting his greeting in your ear. He’s practically vibrating, still on the high of adrenaline from whatever wolfy things he did this weekend. Chased deer? Howled at the moon, maybe?

“-so cool, he just pounced on this bear, you wouldn’t believe it. Our Jeonginnie’s getting so strong!”

You close your eyes, burrowing your face in Felix’s shoulder for a second as he recounts the weekend’s escapades in breathless excitement.

Definitely lonely, you think. This weekend has definitely felt lonely.

When you open your eyes, you catch sight of a pair of thick black boots, marching past you. By the time you glance up, you only catch the barest glimpse of Chan’s back retreating from you as he heads up the stairs in silence.

“What’s up with Chan?” You ask, blinking.

“Huh?” Felix pulls away from you to turn, following your gaze to the now-empty staircase. “Uh, nothing much. He always gets kind of quiet after we transform back. It’s kind of intense, especially for him. He’ll be fine.”

You think back to that limp, the way Chan’s body had faltered when he thought no one was looking.

These boys are tough. You know that they’re strong, resilient and heal supernaturally fast. You’ve maybe seen them hurt once or twice, with bruises or scrapes that heal up in about an hour.

You have never seen Chan, the great and fearless pack leader, hurt – and you have definitely never seen him limping like that.

It piques your curiosity.

“Just give me a sec,” you murmur, squeezing Felix’s arm. You turn to the rest of the room, barely sparing a glance at the way Changbin opened the snack cupboard with so much force that he almost ripped the handle clean off. “You guys eat. Maybe wash up a little. I don’t wanna use the phrase ‘wet dog’ but–”

Minho flashes you a grin, and throws up one long, delicate middle finger in your direction.

You purse your lips, blowing him a kiss, before turning on your heel and heading up the stairs after Chan.

His room is at the very end of the hallway. You pass by the bathroom on the way to it, and in a moment of inspiration, you quickly stop there to grab the first-aid kit you kept stocked under the sink.

Chan’s bedroom door is, of course, firmly shut when you arrive. You knock, gently at first, at least making the attempt at politeness. When he doesn’t answer, you try again even harder.

No response.

You resort to pounding your fist against the door. “Chan?”

“…Not now,” finally came the response, the irritation in his tone clear even through the muffling of the wood.

“Chan–”

“Not in the fucking mood.”

You blink at his terse response, before scoffing. Rude.

“Channie,” you sing-song, unable to resist winding him up just a little. “Channie, are you in there?”

“Leave me alone.”

You actually take a step back, staring in shock at the door.

You’ve only heard Chan use that voice on a handful of occasions before. Felix described it as Chan’s ‘alpha voice’ (even after you tried to explain to him that the concept of alpha wolves had already been disproven in science decades ago, “just ask David Mech–”) reserved only for the most serious of situations.

It was something only leaders had, a tone of voice that could bend the will of his pack members, force them to obey whatever he commanded.

Of course, with you not being a werewolf, that ‘alpha voice’ did jack-fucking-shit.

“Oh, scary. Chan’s all grumpy today,” you drawl, stepping forwards again. “I’m not leaving until you let me in, asshole. Now open the fucking door.”

There’s a pause. A long pause.

And then a sigh.

You’re already smirking when the lock turns, and the door slowly swings open to reveal Chan’s thunderous expression. “What do you want?”

“The pleasure of your company,” you retort, already trying to muscle your way in through the gap in the door.

Your shoulder makes contact with his side, shoving against it, and you jolt in shock when Chan reels back, wincing as his hands immediately flew to his ribs.

Oh, fuck.

Something was wrong.

You shut the door behind you, expression softening as you take in the sight of him.

His white shirt is streaked with dirt and grass stains, possibly salvageable with a long hot wash, nothing out of the ordinary. There’s a bright sheen of sweat covering his skin, clinging to the hair at his temples. His jaw is clenched, his nose flaring as he tries to breathe deeply. His whole body is tensed up.

He’s in pain.

You falter, unsure exactly how to deal with this situation now that you had forced your way into it.

“…What happened?”

Chan makes a face, turning away from you as he straightens up, pulling his hands away from his side. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing. Leave it.”

“No.”

Chan closes his eyes, letting out another long sigh through his nose. “Has anyone ever told you how irritating you are?”

“Frequently. It’s one of my charms. What happened?”

His eyes open, and he fixes you with one long, appraising stare. “…You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“The boy catches on fast,” you comment. “What was it? Felix said something about a bear–”

Chan actually chuckles at that – well, you can almost call it a chuckle. A sharp exhale of air that sounds amused as Chan rolls his eyes. “No, it wasn’t the bear,” he says, like it’s obvious.

“So, what was it?”

He falls silent again.

You frown, eyes narrowing at his stubbornness.

Well, two can play at that game.

You turn away from him, wandering over to his neatly made bed and dropping your rear onto it with a graceless thud. You sit there on the edge, legs crossed. You raise an eyebrow, challenging him.

The message is clear – you’re not leaving until you get answers.

Chan’s expression is unreadable as he eyes your new position. “…Get off my bed.”

You smile, and lean back, planting your hands into the soft sheets behind you. “Maybe if you tell me what’s wrong.”

He just stares at you, eyes burning.

You decide to change tactics. Voice softening, you tilt your head as you look up at him. “This is…this is how I show concern. OK? I’m concerned.”

Your words draw out the slightest hint of softness in Chan’s eyes, and you know immediately. Got him.

He swallows, and with a final sigh, he shifts his weight from one foot to another. “Jeongin…he’s getting strong. Maybe too strong. I was trying to help him transform back, and he…caught me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, your eyes widening in shock.

He quickly clarifies himself. “By accident, obviously.”

“And the others…haven’t noticed?”

Chan shrugs, then immediately hisses at the pain of it, tensing again for a few moments until he manages to regain his composure. “…They noticed. I just told them I was fine.”

“Of course you did.”

Chan has a talent in persuading people. He’s got this raw charisma about him, the kind that could make you believe anything he wanted if he gave you enough attention, said just the right things.

“How bad is it?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“That’s nice. How bad is it?”

Your tone is sharp, sickeningly sweet. There’s something in you that takes a grim kind of pleasure in condescending to Chan, that enjoys disrespecting him when so many of his pack members seems to worship the ground he walks on.

It’s also the precise way to really push his buttons – which, of course, is a big part of the fun.

Instantly, his expression hardens, and his eyes are back to that burning kind of fury as he glares across the room at you.

Then, he finally notices the first-aid kit in your hand, and he changes.

The corners of his lips turn up, twisting into a smirk. He raises his chin, one eyebrow arching at the sight of you. It’s a smug, quietly dangerous look from Chan that you’ve never seen before. One that sets your nerves on edge, has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

“Why?” Chan asks, and his hand drifts up to undo his top button. “Are you here to play nurse?”

His tone is mocking, pointed – a perfect reflection of your own.

His hand travels down to the second button.

He’s trying to intimidate you, scare you into submission, send you running out the door.

You grip the kit even tighter in your hand, and watch as he undoes that button too.

“Oh, no. Not skin, Channie,” you remark, voice just a touch too strained for your liking. “Anything but that.”

He ignores you, moving onto the third and then the fourth, shirt gaping open to reveal more and more of his torso as his hands travelled.

This is starting to venture into unfamiliar territory.

But you hold your ground regardless, watching as more and more of his body became exposed.

It’s…it’s a nice body. Lean. Defined. Chan clearly takes care of himself. Works out.

You’re unable to resist following the lines of an emerging six-pack, fading and sharpening with each of his breaths.

You swallow. “…Chan, if you’re just trying to show off–”

He slips the shirt off entirely, and your words catch in your throat.

You stare.

He’s so broad. It’s one thing to see him under clothes, but it’s entirely different to see him stripped so bare, to see the meat of his shoulders and biceps, to see just how big he is.

And normally, your attention would be all over that.

But it’s not.

Because your gaze is caught on the marks on his chest, some still bleeding, some turned shiny and pink as Chan heals himself.

You rise up from the bed immediately, almost jumping to your feet, at the sight.

Chan pauses for just a fraction of a second at your sudden movement. “Wh–”

“Get on the bed,” you order him, no trace of humour in your tone. It is all business, all urgency.

Chan blinks at your words, mouth opening to respond.

“Now,” you snap, looking him over again. “They need to get cleaned out before they heal over, genius. Get on the bed.”

It takes a second for your words to sink in, and his expression shifts when he finally grasps what you’re trying to tell him.

And then, Chan makes the very smart decision to do what you say, brushing past you as he walks towards his own bed and slowly sits down with a wince. “…Go on, then.”

You nod, making your way back to the bed and climbing up onto the mattress, crawling around Chan to check out the damage to his back.

…Fuck.

You’re faced with scores of angry claw-marks, cuts still oozing blood as they decorate his shoulders, his ribs, even the small of his back.

“What the fuck, Chan?” You hiss under your breath, fingers fumbling with the zip of the first-aid kit as you scramble to open it.

“Is it bad?” He asks, his voice so fucking casual.

You can’t even form a response, thoughts too tangled up in the state of his back. You dig for the antiseptic wipes, not exactly ideal for the situation but probably the best thing you had for cleaning these wounds.

“This is going to sting,” you warn, barely giving Chan time to brace himself before you press the wipe to the first of the cuts.

He grunts at the pain, teeth gritted as he tries to bite back any more sound. Of course he’s trying to tough this out.

You’re silent as you try to fix up the worst of his cuts, making do with what you have. The best thing would be to get him under running water – less of a chance of damaging the skin that way.

But considering you had enough of a time just convincing him to let you help him, you doubt you’d be able to persuade him to leave the safety of his bedroom and chance an encounter with his packmates on the way to the bathroom.

So, antiseptic wipes it is.

You finish off the back, applying appropriate dressing to the worst of the cuts. The muscles of his back still tense under your touch, twitching under your fingers. As your panic slowly eases with each treated wound, it’s getting harder and harder not to notice the way he’s built, the grooves and dips of each muscle.

You swallow at the sight. It’s a…it’s a strong back, you suppose.

Gently, very gently, you run your fingers across the planes of his back, paying close attention to the way it shifts underneath. “Any…like, muscle pain? Tightness? Aches?”

“…No. Honestly, it doesn’t even hurt much now. I’ll be fine in, like, an hour.”

You nod, moving your hand away. You’ve seen the effects of wolf healing first-hand. “OK. I’m…I’ll do your front now.”

Chan pauses, before shifting backwards by just a few inches. You shuffle on your knees to his side, watching as he finally settles, before turning his face to meet your gaze. He holds it, very carefully, before slowly leaning back, expression neutral.

Leaving more than enough room for you on his lap.

This feels like another test, you think to yourself, as you eye him with suspicion. Another power-play, meant to throw you off.

You think Chan doesn’t like it when he’s not in control. He’s not used to it.

“What?” Chan says, breaking you out of your trance. “You said you’d do my front. Don’t you need to hurry, before they close up?”

There’s a layer to his tone, the barest hint of challenge, and it has you straightening up in seconds, ready to face him head-on.

Fine. If he really thought he could break you like this, he had another thing coming.

With all the grace and self-assurance you could muster, you crawl back over to him, swinging one leg over him to plant both knees either side of his hips, straddling him without even batting an eye.

“Stay still,” you demand, gripping his shoulder with one hand as you shift your weight around, trying to get comfortable as you hover just a few inches above his lap.

Chan is silent, and somehow that’s even worse than when he was trying to provoke you earlier. You can feel his breath ghost against your ear, hear the tiniest little noises he made whenever you reached a new wound.

And fuck, his chest. His shoulders. His abs. Everything. Just…there’s a lot to take in. If you’re not careful, you’re going to get distracted.

Swallowing, you dab at one of the shallow cuts near his collarbone and finally speak up. “I guess I should say thanks for letting me stay here this weekend. I managed to get a shit-load of essay-reading done.”

Chan hums, and you feel the vibrations under your fingertips. “Good. Thanks for looking after the cabin while we were gone.”

“I still don’t think it was necessary,” you can’t help but add, trying to keep your tone light. “I didn’t really do much.”

“…Felix is always talking about wanting to spend more time with you,” Chan comments, and you pause at his words. “And you get on well with the others. You’re a good influence. Having you here seemed…like a smart idea at the time.”

“Seemed like? At the time?” You repeat, picking up on the subtle implications of his words. “Are you saying it wasn’t smart?”

“There are always risks,” Chan states, non-committal, eyes flickering to look at you. Naturally, your faces are incredibly close in this position – no more than a few inches apart. “Complications.”

“Like what?”

“We always have to stay careful around you, especially around a full moon. You’re more fragile than we are.”

“That’s me,” you retort, sarcasm dripping from your every word. You bring your hand up to his chest to steady yourself as you move on to the next scratch. His skin is warm under your fingertips, smooth. “Delicate little flower that I am. Gotta handle me gently, or I’ll break.”

Chan hesitates before he answers, and when the words do come out, they’re very carefully spoken. “…I don’t know. Maybe you could take a little more.”

“No shit,” you say absently, finishing up the last of his cuts by his shoulder. All pretty superficial, guaranteed to heal in the next hour. “I’m tougher than I look, Channie. I can take a lot.”

Chan doesn’t respond, and when you glance up, you see that his eyes have fluttered shut. He’s taking slow, deep breaths – like he’s meditating, or about to fall asleep.

There’s the tiniest of scratches on his cheekbone.

Gently, very gently, you lift one hand to rest against his face – and his eyes snap open in panic to stare at you.

“You got a thing,” you manage to blurt out, pointing towards the scratch. “There. Just gonna…yeah, clean it. You don’t want something getting infected on your face.”

Honestly, a cut that small is probably not going to get infected – especially with how quickly Chan can heal.

But…well…

You’re a completionist.

Chan stares at you, and for a brief moment, panic starts to take hold in your gut. Have you gone too far?

But instead, he just says. “You’re not usually this…nice.”

“You’d be amazed how nice I can be when you don’t avoid my very reasonable questions.”

“You mean, when you get your own way?”

“That too.”

Chan laughs, eyes still fixed on you. “You’re a bit of a brat, aren’t you?”

He probably just means it innocently, but the way he says ‘brat’, the tone of his voice…

You take a deep breath, fighting back the flush that threatens to creep into your face. “Sometimes. It’s another one of those charms I was talking about.”

Chan doesn’t have a response to that. Maybe he wasn’t expecting you to agree.

You shift again, as your attention turns to the next set of scratches, and by sheer accident, your fingertips catch his nipple. You feel him tense under you, breath escaping him in one sharp exhale, and he hisses. “Careful.”

“Sorry,” you mumble, but you can’t help but examine this new piece of information about Chan with amusement. Sensitive nips. How unexpectedly…cute. “You OK?”

“Mm-hm. Just finish this up quickly,” he says, and there’s an edge of urgency in his tone, a desire to really see you end this as soon as possible.

It sounds foolish, but it’s really only then that you realise just how compromising this position is. Like, objectively, you had known the whole time that you had been straddling Chan – but it had still felt like a game, a competition, a statement.

The idea that he just wanted this over with should feel like victory, but you find yourself a little caught off-guard.

You’re so caught up in these thoughts that you don’t think through your next action. You’re so focused on reaching for that last wound snaking around his rib, just a touch too low for you to reach with your legs in their current position. You just need to lower them, then you can reach, then you can finish. Easy.

That’s why you don’t think twice before you lower yourself onto his lap completely, completely intent on just cleaning the cut and moving on.

And then you feel it.

Something in his lap, not quite pressing up into you, but certainly there. Interested. Insistent.

Chan is getting hard.

Your eyes snap up to meet his, watching as he swallows, struggling to hide the new flush in his face.

“Ignore it.”

“I–”

“It happens sometimes, after a transformation. Body’s still trying to recover, hormones are all over the place. Ignore it.”

“…OK,” you nod, giving him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’s right, it does make some kind of logical sense that his body is still all out of whack from changing. Physiological reactions happen. Dudes pop boners for literally no reason sometimes. It’s fine.

Of course, you’d been around Felix several times after his transformations, ready with water and clean clothes and some good old-fashioned moral support. And never once had this happened.

You can’t help but comment on it – which maybe spoke volumes for your own self-preservation instincts. “I mean, it definitely can’t be the cute girl in your lap or anything.”

Chan stills at your words, and his response is definitely evasive. “…You’re calling yourself cute now, huh?”

“You say it like it’s not the objective truth,” you respond, gently dabbing at that deceptively deep cut on his ribs. He tenses with the pain, and in your new position, you can feel the way his thighs squeeze and harden, the way his breath cuts short. You swallow, feeling a little warm. “I’m decently attractive. I’m very aware of this. It seems you’re aware of it too.”

“What makes you so sure of that?”

You smile sweetly at the man under you, the picture of innocence. “Channie, your dick is literally poking me in the leg.”

To your surprise, he flushes at your words, quickly averting his gaze as he tried to keep his expression under control. “…It’s a wolf thing, not a you thing.”

You’re not so sure about that.

You don’t know what to do with this new knowledge. Chan – big, scary, pack leader Chan – finds you attractive. It fills you with a sense of…power. You have to fight to keep the smirk off your face, but there’s no mistaking the smugness growing inside of you with every passing second. “For a wolf thing, you’re very flustered.”

“Maybe it’s because you keep talking about my dick,” Chan mutters.

“You want me to stop?” You ask, only half-teasing. You’re not here to push any limits, make anyone feel uncomfortable.

And again, Chan’s response is evasive. “Are you actually capable of stopping?”

…Interesting.

Testing a theory, your hand returns to the cut on his side, and carefully, you press down.

Chan makes the tiniest pained groan, hand flying up to grab at your hip, squeezing. The sudden contact is enough to jar you slightly, pushing you forward along the slowly growing bulge in Chan’s pants. His grip on your hip tightens.

“You did that on purpose,” Chan hisses through his teeth.

“Keeping pressure on that deep of a wound is important,” you say, shrugging. “I’m sure you can handle it, big guy.”

He growls – a low, rumbling sound from deep in his chest – and you roll your eyes.

“Calm down.”

You expect Chan to respond immediately, but he doesn’t. He’s quiet – no, he’s silent. His eyes stay fixed on you, and you’re starting to find the attention a little…much.

“You’ve never been scared of us,” Chan finally notes. “Have you?”

You blink. “Not particularly, no.”

And you really haven’t. As much as you’re aware of the danger they pose, the strength they possessed – hell, just look at the marks Jeongin left on Chan, by accident – you still found it difficult to summon any kind of real fear of them. They were just…dorky young men. Loud. Funny, in their own bizarre ways.

“I trust you,” you add, quietly.

Chan stares back at you, eyes widening just slightly.

You tilt your head. “You seem surprised.”

“I just…didn’t think you liked me very much.”

“…You’re OK, I guess.”

Chan raises an eyebrow at you.

“What you’ve done for Felix…you know, makes up for your personality.”

You’re being a little meaner than usual – probably to compensate for the growing warmth in the pit of your stomach every time you looked too long at Chan’s naked torso, or thought too hard about what you could feel beneath you.

Chan doesn’t seem to even notice.

Instead, he suddenly tilts his head, eyeing you very intently. His eyes narrow slightly.

“Huh.”

“What?” You ask.

“You said you’re not scared?” Chan says, suddenly serious. Intent on something.

You’re somewhat wary when you reply. “Yeah. Of course I’m not.”

You jump, because suddenly Chan’s other hand slides around your neck. Not in a choking position – there’s no pressure at all, his palm is only covering the side of your neck, and his thumb is resting just under the corner of your jaw instead of anywhere near your windpipe.

It’s unexpected enough to render you completely silent for a moment, blinking at him in confusion.

And then you see the corners of his mouth turn up in that familiar smirk, and you feel the pad of his thumb press just a little more firmly into your skin.

“Thought I heard something,” Chan muses, vaguely, and it takes you a few seconds to realise…

His hand. His thumb.

He’s checking your pulse.

…Oh, stupid fucking wolf senses. Of course he could hear how hard your heart was beating – the one tell you couldn’t control.

It feels a little unfair, honestly.

He knows he has the upper hand now, and his entire body language changes with this information. He’s relaxed, open, ten times more confident as he watches you with that teasing smirk. “So, if you’re not scared, why–”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap, fuming that he’s managed to one-up you with this stupid little supernatural advantage he has.

“I don’t think I will.”

The hand on your hip shifts just slightly, and his thumb presses into the dip of your hipbone, rubbing slow circles into the soft flesh there.

It’s irritatingly effective. You find your own thighs starting to twitch, core clenching.

Chan hums again, this time in amusement, and continues this movement. His other hand drops from your neck to rest on your other hip. It’s a strange balance – there’s no pressure there, his touch is so light but it’s almost…possessive.

The two of you are starting to drift a little close to the edge of something.

Chan is now unmistakeably hard, and you can feel him pressing up into your inner thigh – just a few inches off from your core. It’s taking a lot of willpower to stop yourself from shifting slightly over and getting that pressure right where you needed it. You’re glad you wore jeans today instead of a skirt – there would be no hiding the effect he was having on you without the extra layer of denim separating you from his lap.

“It seems like you’re done with that,” Chan notes, nodding his head towards the first-aid kit by your side, which has sat untouched for a while now.

You look down at it. “…Yeah, I’m finished. You’re all set.”

Despite your words, you make no attempt to leave his lap.

Chan notices, and his grip tightens around you. Not pulling you down onto him, but just…holding. Tightly.

There’s a moment of silence that settles between the two of you. You’re fixated on each other, like two opponents in a game of chess, regarding the other’s every move.

Being the first to give in almost seems like a defeat, an admission of weakness. But if you’re going to go down, you’re going to go down swinging.

Your hand snakes up into his hair, tangling itself in the roots and tugging his head up to meet yours when your lips come crashing down on his.

Chan groans into you, and that’s when he finally relents, squeezing your hips with his hands as he grinds you down onto him. The friction is enough to make you whimper, the embarrassing sound muffled but still painfully audible.

When you finally pull away for breath, Chan is already attacking your throat with kisses, insatiable. You imagine he’s this close to openly rutting up against you – and it’s that desperation that soothes your ego, allowing you to believe you’re saving face here. Does it really count as a defeat when Chan is so clearly the more eager one?

You barely get the chance to savour this thought, before one of Chan’s hands leaves your hip to slowly slide under your shirt, taking his time. He reaches your bra, and you feel him stroke the lacy edge of the cup.

You pause, still shivering with delight as Chan’s mouth finds the sensitive spot just under your ear, and gently mouths at it. “Chan–”

“Just let me know if you want to stop, baby,” Chan murmurs in your ear, breathy. His hand is still on the cup itself, and he makes no attempt to slip his hand underneath just yet.

“Of course I fucking will,” you bite back. It’s like a switch flipped in Chan the second you kissed him – suddenly so intent on taking control, on treating you like something delicate. Where’s the Chan from five minutes ago who wrapped his hand around your neck to prove a point, and argued with you over how his scratches needed treating?

It’s clearly time for you to flip that switch back.

Grabbing his chin firmly, you lifted his face back to yours to initiate another kiss. The hand on his chin slid up to cup his jaw, and you allowed him a few seconds to enjoy himself before you plucked up the courage to execute the first step of your plan.

You let your lips part under the pressure of his, and then suddenly nipped at his bottom lip, not quite drawing blood but certainly adding some pain to his pleasure.

Chan jolts back in shock, eyes blown ride as he reaches up and touches his bottom lip.

“Like I said,” you remind him, resettling your weight across Chan’s hips, ignoring the way he sucks in a breath when your movement sparks another delicious wave of friction. “Tougher than I look. Don’t start being gentle with me now.”

You accompany your words with a roll of your hips, dragging yourself across the front of his pants and this time Chan grips you hard enough to bruise.

You suppress a grin, and instead pat him on the shoulder, condescending. “I mean, unless you can’t handle it–”

Chan cuts you off, crushing his lips to yours, and the hand still on your hip slides around to slip down your jeans and grab at your ass-cheek. An embarrassing squeak escapes your lips, which only makes him even more smug when he murmurs. “Such a fucking brat.”

“Brat? What happened to ‘baby’?”

“Maybe if you start behaving again.”

You get a particularly strong urge to pout, but you figure that would only prove him right, so instead you do the next best thing.

You run one hand down his front, careful to avoid any lingering injuries, and find the button to his jeans. You manage to pop it open with one hand – a surprising display of dexterity, and you’re a little miffed that Chan isn’t suitably impressed – and you only fumble a little with the zipper as you tug it down.

You’re interrupted momentarily when Chan finally decides it’s time to slide his hand under your bra cup, and you bite down a whimper when the rough pad of his thumb brushes over your nipple.

Chan catches on, and focuses all of his attention on teasing that area, again and again. It’s a little embarrassing, how many sounds as he can draw out of you with just one fucking hand on your breast, but at this point, it’s getting a little too difficult to care.

You close your eyes, letting your head dip forward to rest against his, losing yourself in the feeling for just a little while.

You don’t notice that your hand has fallen completely away from his zipper, instead moving to grab at his thigh.

But, of course, Chan does. “Hm? Weren’t you trying to do something there?”

You open your eyes.

This bitch.

It’s probably a bit of a dirty tactic, but you can’t help yourself.

You drop your gaze, taking in a breath before biting your bottom lip. “I…uh…”

Chan blinks at this sudden change in your body language, and pauses. He doesn’t quite withdraw his hand from your breast fully, but his fingers start stroking patterns into your side. “You OK?”

“I’m fine, I’m good,” you make sure to clarify with him, before swallowing. “I’m just…a little worried.”

Already, Chan is settling back into his ‘leader’ role, preparing himself to reassure, to comfort. “What are you worried about?”

You try to keep a straight face. You fail miserably.

“You’ve been hard for so long, I’m worried you’re gonna cum in your pants the second your dick gets touched.”

You finally chance a look up at his face, lips pressing together as you try to contain your smirk.

And there it is, that fire in his eyes.

You definitely don’t have to worry about him going gentle with you now.

In the blink of an eye, Chan flips the two of you. Your back hits the mattress with a thud, and you barely have time to readjust before he’s got both hands on your hips again. Only this time, he’s lifting your ass up off of the bed, legs in the air, and in one smooth motion, pulls your jeans clean off.

Oh, that was hot.

That was…pretty fucking hot.

And now that your jeans are off, Chan has a clear view of just how much he’s been affecting you.

“Oh, baby,” he croons, sliding one hand up your inner thigh, coming to a rest at the edge of your soaked underwear. “Look at you.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He just laughs, and your breath catches when he leans in. His hand moves away, and you feel his lips replace it, planting a kiss just off to the side of where you need it most.

It’s truly a sight, seeing Chan – shirt off, pants unbuttoned, shoulders tensing as he holds himself up by his forearms – between your legs.

You’re not going to beg this man.

Definitely not.

…But you might find it in you to ask politely.

“Ch-Chan–”

Suddenly, to your horror, there’s a knock at his bedroom door.

Chan jolts up, sitting back on his knees, looking down at you with pure panic.

The same thought runs through both your minds.

Shit. You didn’t lock the door.

Changbin’s voice comes through, muffled. “Hey, dude? You in there?”

Chan launches himself at the door, pressing both hands to it before Changbin can even attempt to open it. “Just a second!”

He turns back to look at you, hair mussed, eyes wide with panic.

You’re pretty sure the same can be said for you.

After a moment of blind panic, Chan has the sense to do up his jeans. You see the way his jaw tightens, eyes squeezing shut for a second when he has to dig his hand into pants to shove his erection down one side. It doesn’t do that much to hide what’s going on – and you feel yourself twitch at the thought of how fucking big Chan seems to be down there – but it’s better than nothing.

With one last futile attempt at fixing his hair, Chan lets out one last deep breath, and cracks open the door. “Yeah?”

You know you’re out of sight in your current position – with how small that gap is in the door, Changbin only has a narrow view of the far wall – but you still tense. Your legs quickly snap together, but you don’t risk trying to reach for your jeans to put them back on.

You hear Changbin speak once again. “Have you seen…oh, well obviously, you have–”

“What?” Chan interrupts, and you fight the urge to face-palm at how panicked he sounds.

“It looks like she’s patched you up,” you hear Changbin say, his voice slow, careful. He’s definitely picked up on something. “Did she say anything about going out? She’s not in her room, and the guys want to make dinner as a big thank you thing.”

It is so like the guys to decide to do something so sweet for you at exactly the wrong time.

“Nope. Not seen her,” Chan lies, forcing a shrug.

There’s a pause. A long pause.

Oh, shit.

“…Do you still have those headphones I lent you on the car ride here?” Changbin asks, sounding ever so innocent.

Chan swallows, and makes the mistake of looking behind him at the desk in the corner of the room. You spot the headphones resting there. “Yeah?”

“Can I grab them?”

“…Uh, don’t worry about it. I-I’ll get them for you now.”

Another pause, and you hear Changbin make one single step towards the door. Chan tenses, and pulls the door closer towards him, blocking even more of the room from sight. This time you do face-palm, as quietly as you can.

You see Chan staring ahead at what you can only assume is a Changbin who is slowly putting the pieces together, and there’s a long moment of silence before Changbin finally speaks. “…You know what? I don’t need them right now. You can just give them back tomorrow.”

Whatever Changbin’s expression is, it’s enough to send a pink flush up Chan’s neck. You hear him retreat back down the hallway, and Chan immediately slams the bedroom door shut, reaching for the lock and turning it. He even tries the handle again, pulling, just to make sure.

And then, finally, he turns to give you the most sheepish of looks.

You stare back.

And then your eyes slide back down to his jeans, which are still looking just as extraordinarily tight as before. Looks like Changbin’s interruption did very little to kill the mood for him.

And honestly, as the panic fades but the adrenaline still lingers – and this new sense of taboo, of getting away with something – you find yourself realising the exact same thing.

Slowly, you open your legs again, keeping your gaze fixed on Chan as his eyes drop to follow your movements.

Your voice is sweet, honeyed, only a little bit teasing.

“Weren’t you trying to do something there?”

[lu-twilights-pup]

just remembered you wrote somewhere about a full moon -> feral Twilight and I am Curious™️ now soooo, can we have some more details about this please 👀 👀

Yes. yes you may. Bonus for asking so nicely.

First off: “A full moon only occurs for an instant in reality, though to the naked eye it can last up to 3 days.” I will be using that 3 day window!

DISCLAIMERS

Violence, animal death, mention of creeper, fluff, feral boy

———-

Feral!Twilight Headcanons:

Over the course of the full moon, the closer to the peak of the full moon, it gets harder to discern man from wolf

He will speak a lot less, maybe sign here and there for truthfully important things, but will take to sounds of acknowledgement, grunts, growls, and when the time calls for it whines and whimpers.

This boy is hungry, at least the wolf in him is

If the others don’t know about Wolfie, he will feign that he’s just using more stamina than normal, thus needs a bit more food

He may also take more watches/breaks to go off as Wolfie and hunt on his own once or twice in the night.

His perception of his own strength is absolutely gone

His body is half against him, wanting to be in his wolf form as much as possible

It’s a physical burning under his skin that he wants out. Now.

His senses are all on high alert at all times, ears constantly flickering for distant sounds

He will be super fidgety and needing to be moving, rough housing with others and working out a bit more

Will become a night owl for a few days, unable to sleep for long, even with a sleeping potion given to him

His eyes are much more feral, his pupils becoming pin pricks and the blue going gold in some areas

An absolute beast when in battle, absolutely no remorse as he goes about his fighting, almost actively seeking carnage

Doesn’t care what he does or how he does it, he just needs to eliminate the threat to his pack

Once mauled a moblin to death that swung at Sky a bit to close. While still in his hylian form. Saw no issue with it, everyone was horrified.

Also almost punched a man dead for creeping on Four (thinking he was a child)

Is impossibly more protective of the others, glued to Wild a bit more, and hovering around Wind, Hyrule, and Four as the smallest unconsciously

Is more inclined to listen to Time and Warriors without thought bc packs oldest know what’s what

Will straight up growl at people not even trying to hid it

A lot more scary to outside people, which is good, he has to protect his family from you people

Somehow seems bigger, hair fluffed more, stands a bit taller, a deeper timber in his voice

If the others know about wolfie, he will spend as much time as he possibly can as wolfie, if not the entirety of the 3 days

he will have a bit more wiggle room to go off on his own to hunt but will be forced to take someone with him for safety

Will bring back food to others if he thinks they haven’t eaten enough (they most likely have)

Will howl at night, at a good distance from the camp though (I know wolves don’t actually howl at the moon but his fidgetyness is similar to stimming, he’s just gotta get it out.

Is super clingy and cuddly with everyone ,Constantly rubbing and nuzzling everyone and rolling around in everything

Feels the need to scent everyone and everything to keep other animals—other predators—away

He sheds like a dying sheep, nothing is left untouched if he can help it

Will hover around the smaller/injured of the group like a lil guard dog

Once (lightly and warningly) snapped at Legend when he was arguing with Hyrule to let him look at an injury

Is much more inclined to do stupid things with wild cause ‘I must follow cub!’

If he’s not heading up the back of the group and herding people to keep in line with the path, he’s up front at Times feet sniffing out potential threats in the distance

Will kill anything in a mile radius that is remotely a threat or can be eaten

Will carry around bunny!legend if he’s there by the scruff of his neck

Bc very small cub needs to be protected, is prey, must keep close, will hold, is safer

Begins to chill out a bit once the time is up on the full moon,

Body will be a hey and drained and he will have a very blurry memory of past 3 days

[therealvinelle]

I know this is like taking a bat to the beehive but... I really wanna hear your opinions on the whole... Imprinting thing

(Note before we go any further: this meta is written purely about the shapeshifting aspect of the Quileute characters, I don’t at all get into the racism in Twilight or any kind of social commentary. This is a purely watsonian meta. Others in this fandom have already addressed the racial dynamics at play, far more eloquently and knowledgeably than me. If I say something in here that’s in any way offensive, that’s not my intention and I’m open to criticism.)

Ooh imprinting.

I touch upon it here, basically I hate it.

The imprinting is part of this theme where the shapeshifters lose their free will and autonomy, and I find it tragic, cruel, and unnecessary.

First of, the fact that they have to phase at all.

They’re made warriors to protect their tribe. There’s no choice involved, only genetics and magic irrevocably changing their lives, and at a ridiculously young age, too. Sam is the oldest of them, and he is 19.

Violence is an inherent part of what they become. Their purpose is to protect the tribe, by fighting vampires. Not only is this insanely dangerous (we see Jake get so injured by a single vampire that he’s bedridden for weeks), but if they succeed, they will have killed. In the singularly brutal manner of tearing apart and burning someone who looks a lot like a human, who talks and might beg for their life, at that. And I remind you, most of these shapeshifters are literal children. They might not see vampires as people, but all the same, killing one can’t be good for their mental wellbeing. (Thought: Perhaps an argument can be made for Laurent’s death having a part in the turn Jake’s personality took? Some, though not many, of the symptoms for PTSD do fit. I don’t know enough about PTSD to pursue this train of thought, but it occurred to me just now, in particular he becomes quite aggressive and prone to outbursts after that incident, so into a parenthesis it goes)

Not to mention how inhumane that responsibility is. Vampires in the Twilight-verse are terrifying, and the shapeshifters might have the power to fight them. But (and this is where I plug one of my all-time favorite animes, Puella Magi Madoka Magica, as it asks the question “Is it okay to sacrifice yourself for others?” because that’s... well there’s a parallel to be made to the shapeshifters. It’s on Netflix!) does that mean they should? Is it really their responsibility? Again- they’re kids!

Then there’s the time Sam lost control, and accidentally mauled the girl he loved. And it’s so cruel to both him and Emily. Sam never chose to have to control himself in the first place, he never chose shapeshifting. He didn’t choose to imprint on Emily either, and he didn’t choose to lose control that day. At no point in the series of events that led to Emily being mauled did Sam have any real choice, and yet he will shoulder the guilt for what happened for the rest of his life.

These kids get superpowers, and several of them seem to enjoy being shapeshifters, but the fact remains that they now carry this huge responsibility to protect their families and homes, doing so is incredibly dangerous, they lose out on their regular lives, and they can’t opt out of it.

This all sucks, but then we get to the fact that they are deprived of their free will, as their alpha can issue an order they physically can’t break. The alpha becomes alpha because of bloodlines, not because of a democratic election. Jake got a mockery of a choice in that he could choose to become alpha himself, or let Sam continue, which was really just choosing between a rock and a hard place. There is no limitation to what this order can be, from “don’t say X to person Y” to “let’s kill someone you love”. Jake has to struggle to break that last one, and he’s only successful because of the bloodline thing letting him become his own alpha.

Oh, and there’s the massive invasion of privacy when they have a hive mind. Cool concept, less cool to have it be reality. Leah is the poster child for how a hive mind can backfire, and they can’t opt out of this.

I’m not good at gifs, but the shapeshifters just make me think of that gif of someone flicking a lightswitch on and off, “WELCOME TO HELL!”. Of course, Twilight in general is a pit of despair for everybody, so I suppose that gif really is... well it sums up all of canon.

So, we have these kids aged 19 or younger, as of Breaking Dawn they skew as young as thirteen, their lives are turned upside down by something they can’t opt out of, they must shoulder this huge responsibility to protect their homes and families from the terrifying threat of vampires, and on top of all of that, they must obey orders that are so irresistible, they can compel them to harm someone they care for.

With all of that in mind, you’d think that the shapeshifters had enough on their plate. That through all of this they would at least retain their selves, and be able to look forward to a future where they could stop phasing, and go on to live normal, human, lives.

Yeah, NOT IF THEY IMPRINT.

I’ll just quote Jake’s description:

Everything inside me came undone as I stared at the tiny porcelain face of the halfvampire, half-human baby. All the lines that held me to my life were sliced apart in swift cuts, like clipping the strings to a bunch of balloons. Everything that made me who I was—my love for the dead girl upstairs, my love for my father, my loyalty to my new pack, the love for my other brothers, my hatred for my enemies, my home, my name, my self—disconnected from me in that second—snip, snip, snip—and floated up into space. 

I was not left drifting. A new string held me where I was. 

Not one string, but a million. Not strings, but steel cables. A million steel cables all tying me to one thing—to the very center of the universe. 

I could see that now—how the universe swirled around this one point. I’d never seen the symmetry of the universe before, but now it was plain. 

The gravity of the earth no longer tied me to the place where I stood. (Breaking Dawn, page 237)

Everything that made me who I was disconnected from me.

Jake’s love for his father, his home, his very own self, it’s all gone now. And while I have thoughts on the authenticity of this imprint, whether it was organic, the description above is apparently how imprinting feels. It’s along the lines of what Sam, Jared, and Paul all describe.

I don’t think I can put into words just how devastating I find imprinting, I think the above quotation speaks for itself. And as with all other shapeshifter things, there is no choice involved.

We see its devastating effects in the Emily, Sam, and Leah debacle. Sam and Leah were serious together, so much so that they were engaged. Sam had fallen for and chosen to be with Leah. Perhaps they would have broken up eventually, but Leah was still the choice he made. Then he imprints on Emily, and all that is for naught. He had to break up with Leah, who if she hadn’t phased never would have learned why, Emily and Leah’s relationship is ruined, and Emily must forever live with the knowledge that if Sam had his free will intact he would be with another woman.

Then there’s Jared and Kim. Kim crushed on Jared, but Jared never noticed her. The fact that they were in the same class is damning: if a boy is attracted to a girl, he's gonna notice her. Jared never did.

Quil imprints on Claire, who is a toddler. That’s just a recipe for misery and disaster all around.

And I’ve only touched the shapeshifter side of things. They lose their autonomy and freedom, but the imprintées draw the short straw too. They’re now responsible for this other person’s happiness. Sure, having someone who’ll be whatever you need them to be sounds nice (well, it sounds horrifying, but I’m playing ball) on paper, but you can’t opt out of them being like that. The imprintée can’t say “Sorry, not interested,” and she certainly can’t shut the imprinter out of her life, not without irrevocably ruining the imprinter’s life. The imprinter needs her. She’s the center of his earth now, but she didn’t choose to be.

Imprinting is a liferuiner for everyone involved.

Then we have the question of what imprinting is even for. I’m afraid I agree with Billy, that it’s for procreation. We see Sam, who was dating a woman about to phase (even if Leah isn’t infertile, she’s a warrior now. She can’t run in the woods and fight vampires, and gestate and nurse a child at the same time) conveniently imprint on her cousin, who as cousin to Leah is from a shifter bloodline. Claire, as Emily’s cousin, has those same genetics. Paul imprints on a woman from the Black family line. Jake is the outlier, but either Renesmée’s gift helped that imprinting along, or he imprinted because of the offspring they could potentially have (I firmly believe it’s the former because the latter... NOPE. Also, I can’t imagine whatever magic drives imprinting would want vampiric progeny for the future generations. Regardless of Renesmée’s person, her biology is wired to desire human blood. That’s exactly what Jake is supposed to protect people from. Bad match.).

I just.... ughhh. God, I hate imprinting so much, and on every level.

To me, everything about the shapeshifters is about free will, autonomy, and the loss thereof. And it would have been beautiful if their story was about reclaiming that, but it isn’t. None of this, with the exception of the alpha orders, is even acknowledged.

So, in summation, yes I hate imprinting, but it’s only the horror cherry on top of a very sad and problematic cake.

[down-in-devildom]

Can you do the beelzebub reaction to seeing chef mc crying. everone is allways asking them to make them food and they just got burn out. Now they are worried that people only like them because they can cook.

Howdy and thank you for the prompt! I hope this is okay. Beel doesn’t really talk much for it is interesting having to delete whole paragraphs of dialog when I remembered...

Chef!MC with Burn out 

While walking into the kitchen at HoL for his late night pudding and seeing MC crumpled on the floor in tears, Beelzebub was instantly by their side on the ground. His first priority was to do a quick check over them to make sure there were no injuries or current threats. When he was sure that no external forces appeared to be the cause of MC’s distress, he would gently try to uncurl them from their ball

“What’s wrong? Do you need me to get you anything? Are you hurt?”

When Beel does not get a response, he would sit fully on the ground and pull MC into his lap. They would be bundled up into the crook of his neck as he rubs little circles on their back. He is silent as he waits for them to either talk or push him away, the tears rolling down their face dampening his neck and shirt. In the meantime, he really takes in the state of the kitchen. 

Flour was spilled all over the counter and floor. There were powdery white footsteps everywhere on the ground as if there was some frantic pacing. The fridge was left open and a massive amount of eggs had their yolks and whites separated into two bowls. Shadow hog cutlets and mauled mouthed salmon were in various states of butchering on the island and the mountain of dishes in the sink alone was enough to give even Barbatos pause. When Beel really allows himself to register MC’s clothes and hands, they were covered in all kinds of foodstuffs.

When the tears finally begin to dry up and the hiccupping quiets down, Beel makes to get up and get MC as far away from the kitchen as possible. He picks up the MC and cradles them. He first makes sure to grab the packs of pudding from the fridge he originally came down for, then he is off to his and Belphie’s room with MC tucked into his side with one arm. 

When he made it to his room, Beel placed MC on his bed, not caring that they were smearing flour all over his bedsheets, and put the puddings on his nightstand. He then sits next to them and grabs a single pack of the dessert and a spare spoon he kept in his nightstand. He then proceeds to spoon out a bit of custard and holds it in front of MC, waiting for them to take a bite. MC was very drained and a bit zoned out to notice the pudding in front of them at first so Beel just kept waiting. Waiting and waiting and ignoring his own hunger until finally, finally, they took a bite of the pre-offered pudding.

Beel keeps feeding them the dessert one spoonful at a time until it is done. When the package was empty, he set it on his nightstand and grabbed another one. He was ready to repeat the process until MC spoke for the first time since he found them.

“I’m so tired, Beel.” He looks at the MC and puts down the pudding. He sits silently next to them, giving his full attention. “Ah, would you like me to take you to your room?”, he asks. When the MC shakes their head ‘no’ he nods his head in understanding and waits for them to continue.

“I feel like I am only seen for what I can do, for my usefulness. I’m always being asked to take over cooking duty, or to help cater for Lord Diavolo’s parties, or for Devilgram-able food for Asmo, or for anime and cat themed desserts from Levi and Satan, or to specifically cook certain demon’s breakfasts/ dinners at certain times because not everybody could be bothered to show up to the table on time, or to make such a massive amount of food and slave away for hours only for it all to be gone in an eighth of the time it took to make!”

MC’s voice continued to raise during their speech and they appeared to have spoken without taking a breath because they had to pause and gasp for air a bit afterwards. Beel gave them time to settle down a bit and thought about what they said. To Beel, food as his literal lifeline. He could not really remember when he wasn’t tied to food; consuming food was his identity ever since he became the Avatar of Gluttony, and he was okay with that. He did not care if that was all that most demons saw, but he also had Belphie. Belphie saw him as more than a blackhole that needed to have food constantly thrown at him. He also had MC that saw him as a demon that cared a lot about his family AND food. 

He felt his heart ache a bit. He thinks that MC probably felt lonely and lost. Beel cannot ignore the part he played in MC’s distress and feels his heart squeeze just that much more. “I’m sorry.” Beel says it with such sincerity and remorse. His eyes were open and honest as he looked into MC’s eyes, his whole upper body turned to them on the bed and his focus solely on them. “I am sorry for making you feel that way. I love your food but I also love you, MC.” 

Beel doesn’t speak much but he means what he says. He doesn’t really know what else he can do for MC at this point besides trying to help persuade his brothers to not ask so much from MC and taking up cooking duties himself. His brows knit together as he tries to think on what he can do but his stomach is starting to take over. His hunger is becoming increasingly hard to ignore and the bed is starting to shake with each grumble. His eyes dart to the stack of puddings and he tries to pull his focus back to MC.

MC just chuckles and hands Beel a few packages of pudding. In a flash, Beel devours them and is reaching for more. The stack is gone in an instant and his hunger is still very much there. He glances at MC with a pile of disregarded pudding cups littering the ground.

“How about I whip you up something real quick?”, MC offers. Beel was about to say that it wasn’t necessary when his stomach let out a roar this time. MC chuckled before getting up and making their way to the door. “I don’t think I am not against making food for the people important to me, as long as it is on my terms…. Thank you for listening to me, Beel.” After that night, Beel made an effort to try to help MC more in the kitchen. Their work didn’t really slow down and everybody still wanted to eat their food, but at least, with Beel there, they felt more like they...mattered. Even though Beel kept eating over half of the ingredients before anything could be cooked properly.

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Thank you for reading!-Leo

[lachesis-games]

to the whole cast (if thats ok) what are your guys' favorite animals and why?

The gang lounges in the Ipomoea living room. Jackie and Theo sit beside each other on the couch while TV and Antigone have taken up opposite armchairs. Dakota is perched atop the arm rest of Antigone's seat. Jackie leans forward eagerly.

Jackie: "Oh, that's easy. Wolves."

How come?

Jackie: "They're just the ultimate predator. They have all the evolutionary equipment to be killers and at the same time they're smart enough to hunt in packs and have a hierarchy and everything. It's badass! I'd pet one if I got the chance."

Theo: "You would be mauled."

Jackie shrugs.

Jackie: "You don't know that."

Theo shakes their head in disbelief.

Theo: "I'm fairly certain that--"

TV: "Anyway! My favorite animal is a deer. They're such gentle creatures. I went hiking with everyone last weekend and saw a doe and her fawn. They were so precious."

Is that the only reason?

TV: "I mean, I feel drawn to them. I think. I'm not sure why. Probably because they're cute?"

A crooked smile crosses Jackie's face.

Jackie: "TV, have you seen a movie called Bambi?"

Antigone: "Shut up, Romero."

TV: "I know it's a Disney movie. Is it any good?"

Jackie: "Yes!"

Antigone: "No."

Jackie just laughs and leans back in their chair while TV looks confused.

Theo?

Theo: "I like wyverns. When I was in my twenties, I had the opportunity to see the British Wyvern Races in person. It was a sight to behold, for sure."

The BWR one of the largest betting events in Britain. Did you make any wagers?

Theo scoffs, insulted.

Theo: "I'd never make an agreement so foolish. The trick to the matter is to wait until someone else's recklessness outweighs their luck. Then I offer them a deal. That is my trade."

TV: "How ominous."

Theo just hums dismissively.

Dakota?

Dakota's eyes light up.

Dakota: "Obviously my--"

Antigone cuts him off.

Antigone: "Charmander is not an animal."

Dakota huffs indignantly.

Dakota: "If you knew me, you'd know I was going to say charizard, but fine. Um, a little after I started monster hunting, once I got really good, I took this job dealing with this town's disappearing cattle. Turns out there was a freakin' chimera living in a cave nearby. I ended up having to fight it and turns out the thing won't die unless you kill all the heads. I wish I knew that going in, but whatever. Anyway, those things are awesome-looking and are great opponents."

Antigone wrinkles her nose.

Antigone: "Is that what you took from that encounter?"

She looks toward the interviewer.

Antigone: "He got overconfident and got himself bit. Luckily, he only broke his arm because it was the goat's head that got him. If it were either of the other two, he'd be dead."

Jackie: "Out of the two other dangerous animals to get bit by, the goat's the one that got him?"

Dakota: "I was worried about the massive lion paws! Excuse me for putting the goat at the bottom of my priority list!"

Jackie: "I could take out a chimera without getting bit. I'm built different."

Dakota: "Oh yeah? Theo, could one of your weird contacts track down a chimera for us to fight?"

Theo already has their phone out.

Theo: "I can have a location in ten minutes."

Oh lord. What about you, Antigone?

The witch and TV share a grimace before the former refocuses on the topic at hand.

Antigone: "Dogs. I like dogs."

Care to elaborate?

Antigone: "No."

Jackie: "I know where that is!"

The three of them, TV not included, are hunched over Theo's phone looking at what seems like a map.

Dakota: "I'll drive!"

Dakota and Jackie trip over each other on their way out the door, Theo strolling leisurely behind them. TV gives the interviewer an embarrassed smile.

TV: "We'd better go after them."

Antigone: "Do we, though?"

TV: "Please, Annie?"

Antigone: "Fine."

The final two follow after the rest of their group. There are hurried footsteps back to the door, where Jackie pokes their head back in.

Jackie: "By the way, my brother's favorite animal is a phoenix. He's big into the concept of rebirth and all that crap blah blah blah okay I'm leaving bye!"

The door slams shut behind them.