#i just wanted to illustrate what i think their 'fur' would move like

[linkedin-offficial]

spooky

[starstrike]

Mithrun's desire as an SA analogue

TW discussion of SA and detailed breakdown of aesthetics evoking SA. The way I discuss this is vivid in a way that may be triggering, though there is no discussion of actual sexual assault. Just survivor's responses to it.

People relate to Mithrun and see his condition as an analogue for a few different things, like brain injury or depression. And I think all of them are there. But I also see Mithrun's story as an SA analogue, and Ryoko Kui intentionally evokes those aesthetics. I think it's a part of Mithrun's character that a lot of people miss, but I very much consider it text. This is partially inspired by @heird99's post on what makes this scene so disturbing; so check out their post, too :)

So to start off with, the demon invades Mithrun's bed, specifically. There's even a canopy around it, which specifically evokes this idea of personal intrusion; the barrier is being pulled apart without consent or warning. The way the hand reaches towards Mithrun's body from outside of the panel division makes it almost look like the goat stroking over his body. It's an especially creepy visual detail; similarly, the goat's right hand parts into the side of the panel as well. It's literally like it's tearing the page apart; but gently. So gently.

Mithrun is in bed. It is his bed that the demon is intruding on. He's in a position of intimacy. The woman behind him is a facsimile of his "beloved" that he left behind; the woman who, in reality, chose Mithrun's brother. He is in bed with his fantasy lover, who is leaning over him. While this scene isn't explicitly sexual, it is intimate. And it is being invaded. The goat lifts Mithrun gently, who is confused, but not yet struggling.

The erotics of consumption and violence in Ryoko Kui's work(remember that the word 'erotic' can have many different meanings, please) are a... notable part of some of her illustrations. I would say she blurs the lines between all forms of desire: personal, sexual, gustatory and carnal, in her illustrations in order to emphasize the pure desire she wants to work with and evoke to serve her themes. Kui deploys sexual imagery in a lot of places in Dungeon Meshi, and this is one of them.

In this case, horrifically. The goat's assault begins with drooling, licking, and nuzzling. The goat could be enjoying and "playing with" its food. But it can also be interpreted as it "preparing" Mithrun with its tongue as it begins to literally breach Mithrun's body. The goat also invades directly through his clothing; that adds another level of disturbing to me. There's nothing Mithrun can do in this moment of violation. Mithrun is fighting, but he is fighting weakly, trying to grip on and push away when he has no ability or option to. All he can do is beg the goat to stop. And it doesn't care. This all evokes sexual assault.

The sixth panel demonstrates a somewhat sexual position, with Mithrun's thighs spread around the goat's hunched over body. In the next, the goat pulls and holds apart Mithrun's thighs as he nuzzles into him. The way the clothing bunches up looks a bit as if it has been pushed up. It has pinned Mithrun down onto the bed, into Mithrun's soft furs and pillows. It takes a place made to be supernaturally warm and comfortable, and violates it. It's utterly and intimately horrifying. To me, this sequence of positions directly evokes a rape scene. I think Kui did this very explicitly. These references to sexual invasion are part of what makes this scene so disturbing; albeit, to many viewers, subconsciously.

This is also the moment the goat takes Mithrun's eye. Other than this, the goat seems exceptionally strong, but also... gentle. It holds Mithrun's body tightly, but moves it around slowly. It doesn't need to hurt Mithrun physically. But in that moment, it takes Mithrun's eye. Blood seeps from a wound while an orifice that should not be pierced is penetrated. This moment, the ooze of blood in one place specifically, also evokes rape. That single bit of physical gore is a very powerful bit of imagery to me.

Finally; it is Mithrun's desire that is eaten. After his assault, Mithrun can find no pleasure in things that he once did. He is fully disassociated from his emotions. This is a common response to trauma, especially in the case of SA. It's not uncommon for people to never, or take a long time to, enjoy sex in the same way again; or at all. They might feel like their rapist has robbed them of a desire and pleasure they once had. I think this makes Mithrun's lack of desire a partial analogue for the trauma of sexual assault.

Mithrun's desire for revenge was, supposedly, all that remained. Anger at his assaulter, anger at every being that was like it; though, perhaps not anger. Devotion, in a way. To his cause. I don't know. But the immediate desire to seek revenge is another response to SA. But on to Mithrun's true feelings on the matter.

This is... So incredibly tragic. Mithrun feels used up. Like his best parts have been taken away. Like he's being... tossed aside. This certainly parallels the way assault victims can feel after being left by an abuser. Or the way assault victims feel they might be "ruined" forever for other partners. These are common sentiments for survivors to carry, and need to overcome. In the text, it's almost like Mithrun feels the only being who can desire him is a demon who might "finish devouring" him. That that's his only use. It's worth noting that Mithrun trusted the demon. Mithrun's world was built by the demon, and Mithrun, in that way, was cared for by the demon. I think this reinforces Mithrun's place as a victim.

There's also something to be said about Mithrun as a victim of his own possessive romantic and sexual desire. The mirror shows him his beloved just dining with his brother, and it infuriates him. He doesn't know if the vision is real, nor if she has really chosen his brother as a romantic partner. The goat then creates a whole fantasy world where she loves him. As Mithrun's dungeon deteriorates, she is the only person that continues to exist. Mithrun continues to have control over her. And that is the strongest desire the demon is eating, isn't it? There's something interesting there, but I don't know what to say about it.

In conclusion, I think Mithrun's story is an explicit analogue for sexual assault-- though, certainly, among other things! The way the scene plays out and is composed explicitly references sexual violation and invasion of the body. His condition mirrors common trauma responses to sexual violence. And, at the end, he finally realizes he can recover.

Let's end on a happy Mithrun, after taking the first step on his journey to recovery :) You aren't vegetable scraps Mithrun. But even if you were-- every single thing in this world has value. Even vegetable scraps.

[okiroash]

Obsessed with post-mt. silver red... the champion you hailed as a legend, a concept of what strength is, right now- is having trouble finding where he put his wallet because he didn't need to use money for three years (the cashier watches as red rummages through his bag, the sounds of various items clanking can be heard through the room...) anyway,, some fun headcanons for him that I first wanted to tell along with illustrations but,, I don't have the energy to do that rn,, -> He knows how to mimic a pokemon's cry to such accuracy,, esp those of wild strong pokemon that lives in mountain silver, this is so that- with just himself he can terrify the weaker pokemon and make them scamper away.. it's important that his team stay at top condition and not make them waste necessary energy in case something bad would happen -> Though this doesn't mean he uses his voice more, having no one to talk to (or even the need to-) for an extended period of time, makes it easier to get into a coughing fit if he were to talk too much, leading to him talking slower, softer, and always in short chopped sentences after coming down (but still have that polite way of talking, judging from the dialogue in FRLG with the pokedoll girl compared to ethan's.... who even uses "pardon me" these days? red apparently) -> He learned how to run on all four.. when there's literally just you and your animal friends in some mountain you're bound to be a weirder guy, sorry man (and he actually moves faster this way.. but red's aware that this is something he could only do in the wild) -> Red moves like a ghost, it's good when you don't want to alarm the wild pokemon around you (and now it's people to avoid getting recognized), but this makes it hard for him to announce his presence which always end up surprising people.. -> Whenever he doesn't know how to react to a joke or what it means, he will tilt his head and stare at them with the biggest autism eyes ever.... -> Post-mt silver red gets put into a lot of socially awkward situations, it can't be helped 💔 -> Because he spent so long in a dangerous environment, red is very vigilant and cautious, though.. sometimes overly that it's not healthy, it took a while for him to start relaxing a bit more after going back to "normalcy" -> Red tried to keep track of time by writing in his diary.. one day he flipped the paper and found that he had run out of them.. he started writing on the cave's wall instead -> talking about diary, it's one of his few emotional outputs, on really bad days it's full of scribbles, messy writing, repeating words and rarely, tear stains -> being far from a talkative person, he can't just vent out his emotions through talking.. and because he has such an unexpressive face, people often think there's nothing wrong with him, simply a hero you can always depend on. red developed a slight anger issue from not being able to properly express his emotions, sometimes he would bent and smash things to let off some steam (dw.. nothing valuable, probably trashes or rocks..)

-> He finds a lot of comfort in his pokemon, rubbing circles on pikachu's fur, sleeping on top of snorlax, feeling charizard's warmth... (yeah you get what I mean,,) He also likes getting carried by them, it's a feeling of comfort that something is guiding him, just like the old days with his mom

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Remember You

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: I’ve thought about it a little and I don’t think this adds anything to the story—it really just feels like a trashy filler episode.

word count: 4,173

-Part 14-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

It’s not an unusual occurrence for you to open a book near dusk then pull out of your mental wandering after dark, frequently falling so deep into immersion, so consistently dragged under by lonely curiosity that time itself seems to slip through your soft, tender fingers. A shadow twirls a lock of hair about, a gentle approach so you know he’s there.

Even when his steps don’t subconsciously take on that soundless whisper, it was too often you’d startle at the sound of his voice, almost strangely so, spun around looking slightly flustered. Azriel had always assumed it a side effect of being stolen from your home all that time ago, being thrown about in the ocean of your life, only now beginning to settle back into relative calm.

You turn now, meeting his soft hazel eyes, shadowed by lovely lashes and defined by a strong brow. A mouth that appears so soft your heart aches at the faintly curved edges, appearing so warm and inviting. The steady certainty about the way he moves, so calmly assured of each step, unrushed but quietly determined, driven forward relentlessly by his unfaltering loyalty, the dedication to helping those under his brother’s rule.

A smile pulls your mouth apart, surely gleaming in your eyes, warming your cheeks as you meet his gaze. “What a surprise to see you here,” you say, closing the book silently, balancing the thick and heavy edge on your hip, the leather of its wrapping weighing comfortably into your waist. “Looking for something?”

He smiles, pushing off from the bookcase he’d been leaning against, dark hair flopping over his brow, as soft as silk and looking as warm as fur. How lovely it would be to run your fingers through, gently playing with it like how you would do when you were younger, sat before an open fire in a wobbly line, crafting intricate patterns with your sisters.

“I’ve found it now,” he replies, amusement written clearly across his features, more open than usual, your pulse increasing. His eyes drop away from yours, landing on the book at your hip, nodding to it with a faint smile. “What have you gotten your hands on this time?”

You reciprocate the expression with a little more enthusiasm, almost beaming as you shift the volume to present the cover to him. “It was tucked near the back here,” you explain, eyes darting to the shelf you’d been stood before. “It looked a little forgotten so I had to move some of the others around to get to it. It’s a book on botany, and the different plants that can be found throughout the courts. It’s amazing how such a range can be contained to such a small land mass given the shift in climates.”

His eyes twinkle, and your heart flutters in response, smile broadening a little. “Were there many books in your first home, or did your curiosity come from seeing your father’s study?” He asks, watching you calmly, gaze skating over the beautifully crafted cover of the book appreciatively. “There weren’t as many as there are here, but there were a few I could get my hands on,” you answer honestly. “Elain and I used to flip through the pages to look at the illustrations when we were younger, though they were mostly done in ink so only black and white. Sometimes when we found ones with colour in—there were some wonderful ones. I mean, really so full of colour and shimmery paints they really looked from another world—but we would fold the corners over at the top to show to Feyre later. Then sometimes they’d have diagrams with names underneath that we didn’t yet know how to pronounce, so would fold the corners over at the bottom to ask Nesta later since our mother wouldn’t want to be disturbed. Then later because she wasn’t there.” You come to a stop, lips drawing themselves into a thin line.

“Do you miss her?” He asks quietly, those shadows of his rolling like mist from his back, weighing to the floor to cover the boards in an inky black fog. “I…it’s complicated,” you answer, head dipping as you pull the volume back to your torso, as if it will act as a shield against the complex emotions you have no idea how to articulate. “You have plenty of time to figure it out—should you wish to,” he says gently, and you peer up at him, heart fluttering at the warmth in his eyes. The faint softening at the edges of his wonderful mouth.

You remember to respond, dipping your head in a subdued nod. Tongue swiping over your lips. “Is your…I mean, your mother…?” He blinks those lovely hazel eyes, so filled with swirling colour, and you inwardly cringe, seeing how he shifts to stand more upright, posture more rigid. That sweet curve of his mouth replaced by a polite smile, one he probably knows he should give to keep anyone from feeling bad. “Alive, yes,” he answers, his tone not inviting anymore questions, without being clipped.

Lips pursing into an awkward line, your gaze drops down to the book, to your feet, nodding in confirmation. “I…I’m happy for you,” you say quietly, hoping it’s the right thing and she isn’t a terrible woman. Female. That would be quite awful, if she turned out to be.

Azriel hums lowly, and your throat rolls, toes curling a bit in your shoes. You inhale, managing to look in his vague direction, “how was your day?” It comes out much more muted than you had intended, heat spreading throughout your features as you again dip your head, felled with embarrassment. A moment of silence passes, and you feel like you might crumble into a heap of sand, simply disintegrate right then and there.

But, “good,” he answers, chuckling lowly.

Peeking up nervously, you can make out the slight twinkle in his eyes, the relaxed softness to his mouth, and relief washes through you, crushing and sweeping in its intensity. “Training’s going well,” he continues unprompted, and you perk up more, shifting on your feet, attempting to straighten out your shoulders. “It’s becoming a nice, well-rounded group. Nesta seems to be doing well, too. They all are.”

You manage a smile, drinking in every word, basking in the richness of his voice, imbued with a tinge of royal blue emotion. “Sounds like you’re having fun,” you say, trying to match the mirth of his intonation, how genuine it sounds. You don’t really succeed. “Between the strain of practice and learning, I think they do,” he answers, still smiling faintly, and you pause to take a moment to try and capture what’s different about his features when he’s smiling. The curve beneath his eyes, how his cheeks round a little, the way his lips stretch out and curve. Something about his ears raising a little higher, too.

“Have you ever considered joining?” He asks tentatively, and you freeze up.

“Training?” You manage, forcing down the splutter, cowering at the thought. His features level out, but his eyes remain amused as he nods. “No. I don’t think… It’s not for me,” you stumble through the answer, looking away. Then heat warms your cheeks, embarrassment heating across your chest, meeting his gaze. “Should I be?” You ask, quieter than before, stomach tensing as you pull the book closer to your front.

He shrugs, “only if you’d like to. You might find it enjoyable.”

You manage a tight smile, not knowing what to say without sounding rude, so choosing silence.

“Nesta…she has friends there,” Azriel says hesitantly, and you can feel his gaze on you. “They enjoy reading, too. Maybe it would be good for you to go. Exciting.”

“Really?” You ask, managing to meet his gaze, shifting on your feet as you grip the book tighter. “What sort of things—do you know?”

“I could find out,” he offers, the edges of his irises softer.

But you shake your head, “it’s fine. I’m— I’m happy. Where I am, I mean. As I am.” You dip your head slightly at the awkwardness. Should you be saying something like that with pride? There isn’t much to be proud of. Hardly anything you can say for yourself.

It’s a bit worthless, if you’re honest, to only have that to cling to.

“You are?” He asks, gently.

Your stomach drops through your toes, heart plummeting deeper than the depths of the ocean’s floor. Shifting on your feet. Even he can tell… But you nod, head dipping further as you peer at the ground, heart straining for some reason. “Besides, I love getting to read the things in here,” you manage, clutching the volume a little tighter. “And, I’m not sure Nesta…her friends would be interested in reading encyclopaedias.”

“You don’t know until you try,” he says quietly, matching your level of volume. “Wouldn’t it be nice having more people to talk to about the things you like?”

You shift again on your feet, readjusting your grip on the bound book. “Maybe? I guess…”

“So why not try?” He asks, able to hear the slight smile in his voice, and you want so desperately to look at him. “Just one lesson, or even a few minutes to see what it’s like. The first step is usually the hardest.”

“I don’t know…” you hedge, discomfort lodging itself in your throat; between your ribs. “What are you unsure about?” He asks, leaning up against the bookshelves. You shrug, not meeting his gaze. “I guess…I don’t see the point in it,” you answer reluctantly, quietly. Knowing he won’t like that response.

Sure enough, you can hear the frown in his voice, disapproval sharpening into something bladed, disappointment in your lack of enthusiasm. “You should still try,” he says gently, wings shifting at his back, refolding themselves. But you shake your head, more firmly this time, “I don’t want to intrude. That’s her space that she’s made. I don’t want to contaminate it.”

“You wouldn’t be contaminating it,” he sighs, arms folding casually over his broad chest, and you feel like he’s telling you off for something.

Slightly desperately, you aim to switch topic to something he’ll be willing to move on to. You don’t doubt he could keep you here if he wanted, simply returning to the original topic of conversation, so you have to be careful with your new selection.

“Have you asked Elain if she would join?” You ask, not meeting his gaze.

You feel his pause, heart beating a little harder in the hopes he’ll go along with it. The irony of you being the one to bring her up isn’t lost on you—after you’ve wanted a conversation free of her for some time now. So it’s just the two of you, even for one discussion.

“Elain?” He asks, bemusedly, and you nod. “Do you think she’d be interested?”

“You thought I might be. Why not her?” You reply, wincing at your tone. Shifting again on your feet. But instead of tense silence, he chuckles faintly. “I understand the two of you are sisters, but you’re very different from one another.”

Your eyes close briefly, allowing no more than a moment for the condemnation to sink through you.

You’re nothing like Elain, and he can see that clear as day.

So you smile faintly, trying to bring some life into it. “Just a thought.”

———

It had felt like being tossed to the grimy, half-rotten wooden boards of the old hut in there.

They hadn’t bothered with chains—you were human, what could you do against them?

Strange, magic, powerful creatures, hewn from nature herself. Like gazing upon perfect marble sculptures and wishing for their cold grace, sacrificing flesh and blood for stone-cold immortality.

It’s strange how distorting panic can be. How acutely aware of the smallest hairs rising on mostly bare legs, yet forgetting the faces of the fae who’d thrown you into the deep dark of the cell. Warm bodies pressing tight to one another in the dim light of the stone cell, trembling hands gripping one another, grown out nails inadvertently scraping. Shaky breaths misting in the damp, winter deep air.

Few words had been traded in the perpetual night, a cold, spindly hand passing meals into the room through some method of magic. It had been good. Cold and plain yet disgustingly pleasant.

The first time Feyre had returned from Prythian and eaten human food she had gagged, it was unforgettable seeing how she’d changed. Such a small moment with such vast implications. Having then sampled the food, likely the worst of the worst of their own pallet, you could understand the insufficiency.

It doesn’t matter now though. Not now you’re trapped, locked away from the light.

Unknown time passes, and you never hear them coming. Like the night you’d been removed, they come on silent feet, utterly predatory and entirely invincible.

He’d appeared then, sat on a throne constructed of what you think vaguely reminds you human remains—long, stretching bones bound together to be sat upon, forced to serve long after death, condemned to relentless work, never to be lain to rest. The King you’ve been warned about.

At your side Nesta stiffens, observing something you can’t, struggling to remain alert after the numbing darkness of the cell. The strange isolation that had been enforced upon you despite company.

Even to human senses, the smell of blood is apparent, stark and piercing in the barren throne room. Though everything is secondary to the dooming thrum of pressure coming from the dais. Even the lives around you fade into something lesser when confronted with the concentration of Everything before you—a culmination of everything that has ever happened and everything that ever will across the four-dimensional planes, universes stretching and thinned, brought together before the Cauldron that sits, hunched on the stone floor. Watching. Observing. Waiting.

Words jumble from the king’s mouth, but you doubt even Nesta is entirely listening, not with the white-knuckled grip she has on you and Elain, pulled taut together, bound tighter than you’ve ever been before, a refusal to release one another. Even as numbing pain sets in, you don’t try to escape, each of you understanding the aches of the grip are small safeties, reminders you still exist with one another.

Grey-blue eyes catch yours across the hall, wide and fearful as they gaze upon the three of you. The youngest, yet the strongest. The strongest of your sisters, yet maybe the weakest in the room beyond yourselves. The power imbalance so stark the world tilts a little, as if nodding its head sadly in agreement.

Awareness is dunked over you like taking an icy bath, coming to in time to hear the damning words that have your heart jittering in your chest. Lurching and fumbling with fear.

“Who is the youngest, over there?”

And like a moth drawn to flame, your terrified eyes lock with his, singled out as a knowing smile tilts the King’s lips. “You.”

It’s a new terror, you understand. Being noticed by a being so incomprehensibly greater. How to rationalise and understand the fear in the fleeting seconds that tick faster and faster with each blink of your eyes. How time falls flat, and eventually pulls apart as a guard’s hand rips you clean from your sisters, a snarl of rage only adding to the ringing buzz that glistens though your ears, feet fumbling numbly over the cobbles, cracked and jagged in places.

The world fades in and out of focus as ice prickles from beneath your skin, at once hot and at once freezing the skin from your flesh, so cold it will start peeling back at any second, shedding until you disintegrate onto the floor. You’re helpless as you’re pushed onto the dais, far too close to the prowling beast of the Cauldron to ever come away. Even if they released you, the understanding is clear to you it would not allow the escape.

Noises break through the lilting haze of your world, vision clearing enough to pick out the wide, hellish eyes of your oldest sister, the conflict of terror and undeniable rage that blazes away in full view, and you wonder how she can sustain it. How she can muster up an emotion so overpowering your attention is pulled away from the Cauldron. From the King, and Queens.

Her teeth gleam in a snarl directed to the male atop the throne, and you wish for even an ember to take root in your soul. The inadequacies of your own self rising to the surface like bodies buried in muddy land.

“Put her in.”

Every muscle strings taut in your body, jaw nearly breaking itself from pressure, nearly vomiting the food you’d been given from squeezing your stomach in, every part of your being inherently recoiling from the eerily calm pool of black water before you, so still it looks like glass, contained in metal that reeks of something that should not be touched. Even borne witness to.

You’re lofted into the air, unable to so much as kick, terror taking control of your body, feeling as though you’re freshly dead, held stiff by catatonic shock while breath still whispers from your lips. Screams are choked back by the tightness in your throat, lungs burning with cries that would surely curdle blood, piercing shrieks that might at least serve to deafen their keen hearing.

But their large, spindly hands release you, and you slide into the yawning mouth. Gaping, and grinning.

Ice-cold water shocks your system, and you sink like a stone into the liquid. Sinking. Sinking. Sinking.

Dropping through the barriers of the realm. Falling off the edge of the world.

You drop further than possible, and nightmares resurface. Of rivers that swell and break their banks, flooding wetlands and tearing livestock from their home in the torrents of the winter melt. Rain lashing down day after day, heart pounding in your chest, hoping the rising water will never reach the already shaky beams of your rotting hut. In those night terrors there’s no escaping the rising tides, the currents gripping your ankles as you’re snatched from your feet, dragged away and under, swallowed whole and torn from your family in the blink of an eye.

Liquid like mercury surrounds you whole, submerged in the quicksilver of the Cauldron’s contents, dredging up long forgotten memories as though your life is passing before your eyes. Laying on the floor of your father’s study, flipping through books on food, plants, fauna and flora. There had been one nightmarish creature that had always stuck with you, lurking in the depths of your mind no matter what comforts Elain had provided, nor the goofy drawings Feyre had done in attempts to reduce the terror, nor the reasoning that such a small creature whose home was the deepest, murkiest parts of the sea would ever be able to find you.

And yet the Cauldron seems to seek it out specifically, conjuring the memory of the slimy pale blue paint that had been used, the ink that sharpened razor like teeth, the small spot of white on the page that illuminated the fish’s grotesque features.

Like an angler fish, you can’t help but feel now, sunken so far below, sucked in a whirlpool to the bottom of the Cauldron, that its icy surface had been the light, the power rolling from its dark metal the warm glow, and you’d been thrown toward it.

Now past the shredding ring of teeth, cast into its stomach.

The inky water pushes at your lips, squirming at your squeezed-shut eyes, wriggling like icy maggots trying to crawl beneath your skin, to worm their way inside and infest. It seems impossible to hold them out—everything had come from the Cauldron, how were you supposed to barricade yourself against that which you’d been born of?

You pull as tight as you can, wrapping in on yourself as blood recoils from your extremities, all you can salvage of yourself pulling taut and compact, stitched closer than rock, squeezed denser than ice that’s had centuries to compress. Air has long since lost its value among your turned around preservation instincts. Air is a pathway in, and you fear its intrusion with a conviction that spears deeper than any fear of death.

But the Cauldron is a prime creator, second you suppose only to the Mother, and has no concern for time.

No matter how long you keep it out for, minutes, hours, days, years, time is endless and stretching, a new metric confined to the swirling depths of horror contained within its malice-imbued metal. No matter how long you keep yourself walled off, hibernating deep within the parts of yourself you hadn’t even known existed, it waits just outside, prowling, circling, slowly squeezing and constricting. Until like even ice, or rock, you’ll split open. Pressure so steep it could cleave universes.

Even after the walls you’ve hidden behind, the only things keeping out the idle swirl of pure, liquid power, it’s not enough. Everything will fall to time, eroded and grated down to dust beneath the relentless drip of ticking seconds.

Your mind feels too numb to register as it creeps in, cold and deadening as it spreads calmly throughout your blood, filling you up from the inside out, infusing into your skin—numbed from slumber. Creeping and contaminating with cold, needle slim fingers, rearranging and knitting pieces together than should not be joined within a mortal.

It holds you with a familiarity that’s at once startling and reassuring, a puppet returned to the puppeteer, a dress returned to the seamstress, a splintered leg returned to the carpenter. All of them at once, without the care of a mother for her child. Cold and analytical, examining its past creation, exploring its functions with harsh fingers. Peeling back your skin, then your flesh, then your skull, retrieving the centre of your thoughts to discover your foundations.

Wishes and desires, tucked away secrets even you’ve forgotten, passing thoughts unworthy of being voiced, wants that deserved to be spoken but tied down by your tongue. Its ladle scoops you out, hollowing your mind and stomach, dipping a spoon into soup to retrieve a mouthful, except this space will be replaced with something else. Something to push the bounds of humanity and transform you into the sharp-featured creatures who had taken what scraps of your world had remained.

Something with the tremendous strike of lightening but worse fills the empty pockets it’s made. Capable of burning like the blazing rage contained within quicksilver eyes. Something slower. More insidious. You aren’t made for brute force, so a more subtle route will have to be afforded.

Like it had selected the nightmarish memories, so does it haul up the secret wishes. The wants so desperate they have heat kicking back against the icy touch of the Cauldron’s waters. To blaze like Nesta, to protect like Feyre, to soothe like Elain. But more.

A use.

If not a warrior, then a blade to be harnessed.

The Cauldron plucks the desire from your bones, and your body slumps. Skin without its stuffing, a heart without its thump. You could swear you feel it smile as it finds what it’s looking for, now conjuring up its match. The piece to fill the void it’s created by removing the wish, replaced with something sturdier, to lift your body to immortality.

With each possibility the prices rise steeper, and yet you no longer recoil.

The craving to have something—something entirely new, something entirely your own taking control of your mind and soul, driving you forward. How deeply you yearn to be someone with possessions that are your own. Not passed down, nor borrowed or shared, but your own. Something only you can have.

The desire is so acute you feel salty wetness push out from beneath closed eyelids.

To be sought after. Craved. Pursued.

Valued, treasured, fought for.

To have something that made you become both desired and capable of protection.

The cost would always be irrelevant for an offer like that.

Down to your roots, clipped at the foundations, an entirely human desire to be wanted. At whatever price, the yearning so innate and so acute your heart aches within the cage of your ribs. It runs deeper than a want, or a wish, or a need. So inherent to your ideal that now you’ve discovered its existence, returning without it would be a new death with every second, every breath drawn taking you further apart from the moment your could’ve had it.

The Cauldron smiles, dangling it before you, quietly hiding away what it’s already taken, not giving you a chance to consider what you will lose.

And with a still human heart, your soft, trembling fingers pluck the glowing green star from the inky darkness. Fooled by inexperience.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

[sparklingelectricblue]

From the Ashes: Marvel Infinity #14

Continuing on from last week…

The comic starts with the following narration:

"Sometimes, you get a moment..."

We then see Max as a child with his father, Jakob.

The narration continues: "...when everything lines up... ...when anything is possible."

We now see Max facing a firing squad who has opened fire with Jakob's hand on his shoulder.

"When suddenly, you can make things happen."

We then see Max as child with bullets in midair.

"But other times.. Perhaps most of the time...

...you can't."

We then see blood and broken glass on the snow. We're back from where issue #13 left off and Max is waking up after being hit by a car.

Someone is calling to him off panel, "Mr. Eisenhardt..." Turns out, he's being roused by Rabbi Sagan and a bystander.

According to Google Translate, Max is saying "I... yes, Dad takes us across the Vistula. There's a famer in Radom who will hide us."

Cut off in the picture is the wreckage of the car in flames.

What might not be clear in the art is that Max is dragging his lower body to get to the car.

Narration continues: "A few months ago, Magneto could have made something happen."

"A few months ago, he could have dismantled the ruined car and spirited the child away to safety with a thought."

We now see a horrific scene of Anna in the fiery car screaming, "Somebody help us! Poppa won't wake up!"

Narration: "But now he is helpless"

Max is reaching into the car to get to her with the Rabbi reaching out behind him but Max is immediately burned.

Narration: "As helpless as he was when the jaws of the twentieth century closed on his people."

"Now, as then, he is condemned to simply bear witness."

Anna is grasping at her seatbelt, "I'm... I'm stuck!"

Max, face illuminated by the fire, is calling out to her "Then... then you must cut yourself loose! Is there anything to hand, a... a tool... something sharp?! Anything!"

Anna cuts through the seatbelt and begins clinging to her dad in the driver's seat, "I'm free! We can go now, Daddy!"

Max shouts back, "No! You have to leave him! He would want you to."

"Look! There are people here to help your father, but you have to climb!"

Anna is hesitant, "I... I..."

"DO IT!" Max shouts.

Anna starts climbing over her father as the firefighters are getting into position to hose off the car, "Daddy, I'm sorry! It's... it's too hot!"

"I've got you." - Max

Max is being attended to by a medical professional. They're wrapping up his burnt arm. Someone off panel says, "It smells like reindeer sausage in here."

Rabbi Sagan confirms that Anna is safe and well. "The father too. Concussion. Smoke inhalation, but he'll be fine."

Rabbi Sagan sits with Max. "... Did I tell you how my grandmother Coralie came to live here in Alaska?"

Max: "I can guess..."

Rabbi Sagan: "When she was just three years old, she was a detainee at Furs internment camp in France."

(as Rabbi Sagan speaks, we see scenes of grandmother Coralie's life illustrated)

"And she would have surely died there had Andree Salomon not rescued her and put her on a train bound for Lisbon, where the S.S. Mouzinho was waiting to take her to America.

She arrived in New York on June 21st, 1941, where she was placed with a foster family who moved to Anchorage soon afterwards.

On Purim, she'd always get maudlin drunk and tell us about her mother -- her desperate, hopeful smile as she entrusted her only daughter to a stranger and the sea.

She knew she wouldn't live to see her daughter thrive across the ocean.

She sent her anyway."

"With the coming of Moshiach and the resurrection of the righteous" the Rabbi responds. "But I think you already had one of those covered."

Back to X-Men HQ, AKA "The Factory." Later.

"Summers and the others are heading out on another mission. You should get some rest." Max says to Hank.

Hank: "Max... Respectfully.... ...You won't."

Max: "Henry, trust me..."

The end? Infinity comics will be focusing on the Alaska team for the next 2 issues so maybe we'll see more on this.

[bluegekk0]

can grimm move his (head bumps? horns? ears? what even are they?) the spiky bits on the top of him head. also what does his skeleton look like?

They are meant to be horn-like protrusions, yeah. Structure-wise they would be similar to the ossicones on giraffes (some extinct relatives in particular have very long ossicones, so something similar to what Grimm has isn't that far-fetched), which are bony structures covered in skin and fur. This is why in Grimm's case they end up looking like ears. I don't think he can move them, not the same way as you'd expect if they were ears, at least. Perhaps if he lies down on his back they can bend slightly, which is similar to what I think Vyrm's horns do (they can bend a lot before breaking, though in Grimm's case that extent is a lot less extreme). But he can't move them on command.

As for the skeleton, it would generally resemble a real skeleton in structure, but looking closely it would have a slightly weird appearance. I think it would be quite dark in color in most of the body, and it would look as if it was stitched together. In some areas it would have the appearance of tendrils that were tightly connected together to form a hard structure (similar to how I imagine his muscles look). I definitely want to draw that at some point, so look forward to that if you're interested, I suppose.

In general the inner anatomy of his body is quite a mess. Some of the organs are very simple, for example his stomach is more like a waste container for food that then gets incinerated by his body instead of digested. It definitely has the vibe of a god who's made the body from scratch and adjusted it to his liking, occasionally just going "eh, good enough". His eyes are also weird, he can't cry and they always glow slightly, as if they're pits of fire separated from the world by a translucent membrane. His mouth and vocal organs are probably some of the most complete parts of his body, though the latter does get impacted by his body breaking and burning from the inside quite fast (which leads to the more canon-esque raspy voice).

The body works for what it intends to do, but it can at points offer limitations. For example, the heart which pumps blood to the rest of his body and acts as a power source for the whole structure, weakens at the end of his body's lifespan (the unfortunate effect of his power being so limited, it can't create a heart that would sustain the body indefinitely). This in turn makes everything else slowly break apart, which is why he drinks blood to delay that from happening for a while longer. It can be from other bugs or even beasts, though the latter are quite difficult to catch, and he needs fresh blood from a living being. Said blood then gets absorbed into his body instead of ending in his stomach.

As another example of his body not being quite "fully developed", there are his lower parts, which are kind of like an amalgamation of male and female parts, but not fully functional past their most basic use (what that use was for him, I think you can guess). He eventually modified his body so that the female organ can work as intended, which, of course, resulted in the kids after a lot of trial and error, but the other one is still just at its most basic state. Though t's not like he needs it to do anything more, considering he's the only one in the relationship able to carry eggs.

Sorry about the tangent, I know the ask was about horns and his skeleton, but I thought that sharing more information about his inner anatomy would help illustrate that his body is just... kind of weird. It works for what he wants to do, and on the outside it looks near perfectly normal, but cut into him and you'll realize that it's very much a DIY anatomy kind of deal. And at many points that's also how I treat it. Does it make sense? No, definitely not, realistically it wouldn't work. But he's a god who makes the body using god magic. I think it makes sense for it to not make sense.

[asinfullangel]

30 Double…

“Let’s make things fun. What was done may or could happen again…”

A new halloween has arrived and this curious satyr from the local forest was ready to enjoy it like a regular human would. He read up on the human holidays, found and spent cash on a costume to add onto his appearance to look like an illustrated satyr from human mythology. He may be starting his trick-or-treating just a little early, but he knew the smell of magic in the air and so far he can smell demons all over the place (though still haven’t worked on pinpointing where they are.)

Nick was not going alone this year around no matter how much he wanted to try again. This year he will be traveling around with his wolf. Luckily with some hair dye and sewing he looks more like a monster wolf doll. You know a full size beastly wolf can’t go walking around on the street so one makeshift custom will have to do otherwise if someone starts poking around he gets a filling treat. So the opposite duo were out with Nick leading the way and Wolfe following behind with a slightly annoyed expression written on his face.

“Do you really need to be around all of these humans? You made me look like a cat’s toy and these glass button glasses are just a joke.” The wolf may be feeling odd with dye and some clothing on while his happy goat was skipping along to house after house with more candy each visit. “Won’t you relax your guard a little. Maybe spook a few of the older kids or teenagers (I think that is what they are called).” Looks like nothing could go wrong with this night and I, the creator, is going to fix this.

The creator pulls out a withered spell book, dusting off the withered part to reveal its clean and true appearances. Flipping through the pages to find the spell he desires to add into this world, finding the spell before adding in the ingredients he spoke next. “A drop of creativity and a drop of madness. One blank record with a dash of ink from an inkwell. Lastly, a piece from the interest target with a sprinkle of the current season.” I added two strings of fur belonging to Nick & Wolfe then added some candy corn since it is halloween. “Now… I call forth a new entry to the faith I have my sights set on this time of day. Hear as I say bring a twist unlike my mind had conjured before nor within my forgotten dreams. Add shock, fright, spooks and so on till the sun rises to bring in the new day.” The spell flew out of the cauldron and around the creator before slipping into the intended reality to add a little more to this halloween night…

A strong wind blew through the streets that sent chills up people’s spines, causing parents to bring home their children early and spooked teens back home included. Nick stood his ground while Wolfe took an attack stand in preparing for anything to come… Nothing appeared before them at that moment, but a fog was creeping in and moved as if something hid within. Nick felt a hand grab his ankles and then drag him underneath the fog. Wolfe faced the same actions… Yet, kids, teens and parents were back outside their houses right after as if nothing scared them into their homes before. Nick reappeared on the outscaret of a seaside town which was celebrating halloween and Wolfe appeared in a markstreet though the scent to the place told him enough that there was danger all around him…

Time for the story to begin then. Nick on his end took up the opportunity to enjoy the night by himself and goes about exploring this town for any treats. He skipped into town to see a variety of sea monster and mythical beast costumes all around the place with the scent of sea salted treats to entice the goat to get some. House to house and his candy bag grew more in size. He smiles happily while nibbling on his treats, the night still young so where else could he travel to? He did see a place that looked almost like a home to him and then began to walk over in hope of a treat (though passing by a sign saying M.City beachside. Strange, where did I hear that name from?)

Closing in on the building by the sea to see “Levi’s shops of mystical goods & sea relics,” written above on a sign. Entering the shop to catch a strong scent of magic all over from the items lining the shelves. He couldn’t see the shop owner yet, but could sense something with more power close by and it was moving towards him… “And who is this I see? A new face entering my shop of mystery. Welcome and have a look around, little goatee.” Nick hopped back from the sudden welcoming voice by the owner. “Call me Levi, the owner of this little seaside shop of trinkets.” His smile looked friendly to Nick while his own body kept the flight instincts on high alert. As for Levi’s looks he did dress up for halloween as a sea witch that pairs nicely with his milk chocolate-like skin color (pulling it off quite well to still look sexy) and his eyes remind him of moonlight reflecting off of water. “T-Thanks and what a nice shop you have here. So many things and stuff to pick from.” Now a bit of sweat is traveling down his cheek. His body can sense the danger he is in and it’s all because of Levi. “I do pick each of these out myself, but you seem new to seeing such items. Could I be of assistance in helping you find an item that’ll fit your desires?” Offering his hand out towards Nick which made him blush, Levi’s action and tone of voice charming his feelings in a way he wished Wolfe could do for him. Nick felt invited to take him on his offer, but still knew that he shouldn’t when the magic from Levi sensed odd and two faced. “I’m sorry, but I just stopped in to find out what this place was. I have a friend waiting on me so I shouldn’t really keep them waiting.” Nick, using this false excuse to leave the shop, felt a hand grab his shoulder gently once his back was turned then see a business card offered to him between two of Levi’s fingers. “At least remember to come on by again. I’m sure I can find you something helpful or entertaining like a way to train that wolf of yours with a mere sound as an example.” Nick took the card with a nervous laugh then carefully left the shop and as far as he could from the place…

On Wolfe’s end he took up the sneaking approach and moved along the rooftops to observe this market street. He didn’t know much about understanding magic though had a fine knowledge of beasts to avoid along with demons he learned from his hunting years. As for why bring this up was that he can pick up on these creatures though he only sees oddly dressed humans walking about. Their attire did hint that he could have ended up in Japan, but the air and environment here didn’t quite add onto that hint…

“I can’t believe someone set up a spirit market in town,” said a man dressed as an umbrella yokai. “Strange that this whole street was kept under wrap,” came from his buddy dressed as a spider. “Come on, I heard someone came dressed as a demon. I think they are offering up free handjobs.” Well, that was bold of an offer to speak of in public and Wolfe was quite disgusted by such the idea… And decided to follow in case Nick was somewhere close be. “(That goat better not be doing something stupid or idiotic again).”

After some traveling he stopped outside of a stall that led into a sign-less building while someone running the stall took notice of Wolfe. “Yo, welcome to meet the 7 deadly sins stall. Care to meet one of these deadly hot fellas while the night is still alive, fur ball.” Wolfe growls from the nickname given, but smells a scent that he hopes could be Nick’s. “So, does the wolf have a name or will fur ball be the last name ever heard from you after taking a step inside~” Wolfe ignores the imp dressed man while saying, “It’s Conner,” then into the building he goes… The place looked decorated like a 3 stars haunted house however when he came across 7 doors, each one either had an odd smell or something creeping out underneath the doorway, the feeling he had felt like he was about to face a monster behind every doorway. Yet Conner smells Nick’s scent coming behind the doors label, “lust,” &, “gluttony.” He checks behind the Lust door first to see a demon-dress man chatting with a man he heard chatting early. The men dress topless with purple markings along his arms, hips while one more markings the bottom of his abs & cured back horns matching the colors in a darker shade. His tail looks realistic in its swaying motions as the demon spoke to the umbrella-dress man. “Call me Valentino darling and welcome to my little room of lust. How could I be at your service and remember you’ll have to pay whenever I’m ready to collect.” Conner pulled out of the door to look behind the gluttony door to see a table, a black inky man eating and the other buddy from earlier happily rubbing this man’s tummy. “Lubric, please don’t stop eating. You have some much more to eat and have the room to pack everything away.” Conner was losing interest and still had his nose sniffing for Nick till after just a moment pulling out of the door to peer right back inside when he heard some odd sounds. Looking back inside to see this Lubric cleaning his lips with a napkin while messy plates littered the table & floor around it. The man that was rubbing Lubric’s tummy was missing while his costume lay on the ground in pieces.

Conner backs out & away from the room, but is surprised as he is held behind his neck, lifting off the ground like a puppy. “Yo, Lubric, you have a shy puppy cutie waiting in front of your room. Think I could keep this one? I’m sure he’ll be such an obedient pet for me if someone wants a milk bone as a reward~” Valentino caught Conner and held him by the neck with ease. Conner, already being affected by his touch, felt shy & enjoyed being held though fear was rising when he saw a man squirming inside of Valentino’s balls and cock oozing cum. “Come on Valentino, he was waiting in front of my door so he’s my snack. I’m sure you’ll get another snack soon.” Lubric got up from his set now with a squirming stomach on display to view, walking over to grab Conner from his Valentino… (time to switch back to Nick) Nick was still enjoying his night though he was soon left to be among the few that are pushing onward in the night. Some adults just went about their night as a fog rolled in… Then came a voice that echoed around Nick and other men. Sound enchanting and alluring that his body moves on his own deeper into the fog. Others followed towards a building obscured in the mist… Nick was about to be the first to walk inside this building if it wasn’t for a crab snipping towards his ankles, snapping him out of the trances to hop away from this crab. He stepped aside as another enchanted man walked in as the first of many others and zombie-walked into the place. He slowly creeps inside to get hit by the familiar scent of magic that shoots fear all the way down his spine… “Welcome back little goatee~ Did your friend of yours forget to show up? Or did someone lie just to get some air from me.” Levi's voice rang in his ears and felt like it was clawing at his nerves. “Now why would a new visitor be so scared of me? I thought I was doing such a charming job at winning over your attention~” Once more his body moved on his own inside the shop, passing the shelves and went behind the checkout counter (catching a glimpse of discarded costumes on the floor with the scent of saliva radiating off) to stand in a brewing room made for a witch. “At least stay for a while and enjoy a freshly made treat as thanks for stopping by.” Levi reveals himself walking out for an adjective room to this one and offers a goat shaped cookie, Nick’s hand reaches out to grab then feed himself the cookie. Nick enjoyed the sweetness of this treat, but could see more goat cookies floating over to him from where Levi had entered. “It is rare for a forest creature like yourself to wander so far to the sea. I should prepare such a rare treat for myself properly. One stuffed goat full of sweets will taste wonders for me.” Nick is forced to eat any of the floating treats that awaited to inter and Nick within his head fear how the losing chance of escape for him.

Two living creatures from the forest and now ended up in two different places, facing their own problems that may or may not keep them wherever they are for a long while (for good). Stay tuned is all that I can say.

(Can’t forget the credit, the demon of lust and gluttony belong to Gigifabulous while the beachside witch belongs to mrbolo)

[biolizardboils]

heres a semi-liveblog i did while playing The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog! spoilers under the cut (both for this game and Frontiers!)

“We designed the difficulty of the THINK levels for experienced Sonic fans [...]” finally...a worthy opponent

look at this cute little new employee!! im naming them Barry like in the trailer. them and the Forces Avatar just need one more member and they can form Team Self-Insert!

the Conductor is a big doggy!! oh hes retiring aww,

The Mirage Express, huh? i thought i saw a place that looked like Mirage Saloon in the traileSPAGONIA MENTION!!

okay im not gonna say the menu’s instant ramen is absolutely a reference to the 06 fandub, but i struggle to imagine what else it could be

so they eat Pickies, but eating Cluckies is apparently too far? filing this under Important Lore Implications /j

everyone’s outfits aaaaa;;;;

IT’S AMY’S BIRTHDAY!!! CONGRATS GIRL I LOVE YOUR CAKE HEADBAND AND FUR BOA

“(Why can’t I be normal for one second...)” Barry calm down, your unorthodox yet charming response got you a wink and thumbs up from Sonic the fucking Hedgehog! id be over the moon if i was you

someone already left their ticket in a napkin holder, can’t have shit on my first day

Important notes on Barry: is intimidated by Knuckles, Espio, and Shadow, is Sparkle Gelatin Buddies with Tails, somehow cannot recognize Sonic in the flesh, and bows for royalty like Blaze

Wait... the train's robot arms look like something Eggman would make... Mr. Conductor sir...?

Why is Butcher!Vector stationed in the library and not like, the kitchen lol. And also why’d he and Espio leave Charmy at home

Amy proceeds to explain the rules of Among Us

Tails is disqualified from being the murderer, for he is both Detective and Babey

At long last... the token evil Flicky

uhh why’s the train shaking

DID WE CRASH??

Amy refusing a chance to use her hammer...?

the stick behind her was def her hammer’s handle, wonder how it broke

how on earth can a Crack on A Shelf fit in someone’s inventory

how did that minigame help Barry think of an argument dfghj

oh the hammer she broke was a Great Value backup, thank god

the dead Sonic illustration still sends me hwoling sdfghj

i muted the game to play this real quick and now im laughing even harder

wait sonic can talk but he’s numb and can’t move. no longer laughing

he’s got wounds?? and NO PULSE??? oh my god theyre actually fucking doing it

TITLE DROP?? YOURE TELLING ME THE GAME DIDNT START UNTIL JUST NOW??

what did Omochao do to warrant a wanted poster

Not Knuckles using Ye Olde English for his Sherriff rolefghjk

Omochao is wanted for medical malpractice??? sure why not

okay im gonna stop logging everything and just play for a bit. will type again if something REALLY funny or shocking happens

ooh the bg changed in the Think minigame! reminds me of Earthbound

everybody’s leaving they gotdam post, can’t have shit with this group

id let Barry tell me all about caves

all the options to get rid of the bomb gdsffhgjhkj thank god it wasn’t ACTUALLY a bomb

got caught up in the game but aaaa i hope Amy and Shadow have fun at the Hot Honey concerttt

the blowdart in the conductor’s car... what is it filled with, i wonder... a paralyzing agent... or poison

HE’S STILL PARALYZED/DEAD OH NO... the game didnt give me the option to tell anyone about him but i still feel like an asshole aaaa

aaand now im laughing again SFDGHJ Amy what do you MEAN by that????

wow, im actually not sure who did it! the robot arm was specifically sliced through, so i imagine it was someone who could do that without a weapon. Vector could’ve bitten it, and Shadow could’ve used Chaos Spear... neither of those culprits seem right to me, but it’s all i got

ESPIO. idk how he did the slicing cus his shurikens wouldve been confiscated but he can camouflage why didnt i think of that

okay the camouflage didnt even come up in the accusation but still

SONIC’S ALIVE YAY

can you imagine if he’d said this when Mephiles killed him bhkvads

I FUCKING KNEW IT. TRAIN’S HAUNTED

wait the token evil Flicky is real AND relevant to the narrative??

oh thats legitimately creepy

oh thats even worse (even tho i still think hes eggman in disguise)

okay ngl id have followed these instructions to the letter too. its an autism thing, your honor

TRAIN’S GONNA KILL US OKAY

I’M BACK IN THE DINING CAR WITH SONIC, HI SONIC!!! WE’RE GONNA DIE BUT ILU

holy cow i can’t believe there’s STILL more to do?? the production values....

SONIC NEVER GOT TO SEE THE PRETTY VIEWS NOOOO;;

E  G  G

eggman has no tolerance for self-insert oc’s :pensive:

it’s canon now that Badniks have competitive wages sdfghj

oh no Barry... your self-deprecating dialogue options are worrying me buddy...

!!!PEP TALK??? SET TO IT DOESN’T MATTER V2???

Sonic my best friend Sonic.....you’re right. we can do this

so between this and Frontiers i think this decade’s gimmick is gonna be “silly minigame actually prepares you for the final challenge”

“Don’t teleport us to the future!” Barry how did you correctly guess an event that happened in a destroyed timeline

Ohhh the Train’s mad that the Conductor’s retiring isn’t it?? lemme just plug a video real quick kjhgfdsa

IM FIGHTING THE ACTUAL TRAIN NOW OH MY GOD

this is fucking TOUGH HELP

THAT LAST PART TOOK ME LIKE 20 TRIES AAAAACK

“Your happiness comes at the expense of others. Last I checked, that’s called being selfish.” Tell ‘em, Sonic

100 rings??? have mercy

FINALLY HOLY SHIT

ESPIO SAVES THE FLICKY TO ATONE FOR HIS CRIMES

WAIT DID AMY BLOW THE TRAIN UP WITH EVERYONE INSIDE??

awww;;

oh no Train......

AAAWWW;;

god Barry’s been flabbergasted by this group the whole game dfghjk. is that how civilians tend to think of them? cus its hilarious

nobody even ate?? Barry didnt even get to do his ONE job mndbhksa

SONIC FINALLY BOUGHT THE CAKE YAYYY

“To the confident, unshakable, and radiant Amy Rose!” WAAAAAUGHG;;

WAIT WHAT ,BVJKSFHL??

“...And that’s the story of how I met Sonic and his friends. Entangled in their lives for a fleeting moment, and then back to things as they were.” Living the dream, huh, Barry? I mean, besides being jobless again

oh wait we can choose their epilogue!! i made them stick with the job, practice their singing, and manage to fly to space. as a treat

holy shit that was WAY longer than i was expecting!! every aspect of this was exquisite--scenario, art, characterization, jokes, gameplay challenge?? holy shit

oh hey i guess some people got that Sonic Lore job after all!! congrats to them too!!

I think the moral of this is that sometimes the best April Fools’ jokes are the ones played completely straight, with much more than a simple lie behind them. and also don’t trust trains

[missrosemaris-stuff]

So I’m currently working on a fanfic, right? Well it’s not entirely my first fanfic in the fandom. This is.

This is an untitled work I never finished, but it’s a traditionally, hand written fanfic idea I had (w/ illustrations). It was also a study of sorts on shadows and perspective. I’ve decided to type it out for easier reading.

The premise behind it was similar to the episode Hurt Bike, but a bit darker. Cricket would’ve had a nightmare relating to Nancy getting in a bike accident. The theme would’ve essentially been, “it’s okay to be afraid”.

So, I’ve decided to share it, since it was one of my first works in the fandom, and I never got around to finishing it. It’s a dead project, but I think it’s an alright one.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Admitting that you had a nightmare doesn’t make you weak,” Tilly whispered as she handed him a tissue, “actually, it makes you quite brave.”

“Really?” Cricket asked, tears threatening to spill from his tired eyes. He couldn’t shake the images from his head no matter how bad he wanted to.

“Really, brother. The mind can create things that are scarier than what we can imagine when we are awake. It’s normal to be scared, and you shouldn’t be ashamed of that.” She paused.

“Want to sleep in my bed? I don’t mind.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Papa?”

Bill’s head popped up in surprise before a smile painted his features, “Hi Till-,” his smile fell as soon as he saw her expression, “Hey, hey, hun, what’s wrong?”

She walked over and sat in the patch of grass beside their small garden. Phoenix waddled over and sat in her lap, her fur immediately falling on Tilly’s cotton, purple dress. Her tail wagged happily as Tilly stroked her soft fur.

“Well,” she said as her once normal, yet odd looking gaze morphed into one of concern, “I would prefer if you not tell Cricket I told you, but I understand if you must.” She was no longer looking at him in the eye, and he could tell she was stalling.

“Till, hun, you can tell me anything.” Bill smiled as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Well…”

She began fiddling with her hands, “Cricket had a nightmare last night, and I know that they’re normal and he normally recovers from them quite easily, but he was real shaken up, Papa. Like, ‘crying and asking to sleep in my bed’ shaken up.”

As she paused to collect her thoughts, she noticed the frown on her fathers face, concern leaking, no, flat-out flooding his features.

“And I know that I can’t make him tell me anything, or force him to tell me anything, but I was wondering if you could try talking to him? He’s looked scared all day and he seems zoned out whenever I talk to him.”

Bill sighed as he lifted his hand off her shoulder, “Of course, hun. I’ll certainly try, but no promises.”

She smiled at him before giving him a quick hug, “Thank you, Papa,” and suddenly she was off, heading back inside.

What a contagious smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

“M-Mom! It.. I…”, his words began to paint a wave of emotions. Pure panic to silent, exhausting fear in two seconds.

Bill’s hands held onto him tight, the poor boy was shaking so bad, they might’ve well just been stuck in an earthquake. “Cricket, son, I-I need you to calm down.”

Unfortunately, for Bill, that was all it took to get the boy to shatter into a thousand pieces. Loud, intense sob’s erupted from the small frame in his arms. Tears and snot stained his shoulder as he moved Cricket’s head to face him. A messy, red, and tired face stared back.

“T-The dream…”

“What about the dream?”

“I… It was about mom,” and the sobs began again.

[cowboysandunicorns]

Well, since my last post blew up a bit, I figured it’s time for the long-awaited sequel, in a series I like to call:

Why The Lion King 2019′s Realism Sucks Too, Actually

Such Realism. Wow

Now, when it comes to The Lion King 2019′s visual flaws, there is a lot to talk about. From it’s overly-sanitized greenscreen scenery, to the uncanny locomotion, to the positively nightmarish expressions:

hELLo mOtHER

But today, I wanted to focus on one specific area. And that is TLK19′s Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Feet.

Now, when it comes to trying to create something that looks “realistic”, I find it helps to reference well... Reality. So before we begin, I want you to first acquaint yourself with this tasteful handmade collection of lion feet:

Its not weird unless you make it weird

Seriously, don’t just scroll past this to get to the next image. I want you to take at least 2-5 minutes just to look at this picture, and remind yourself of what a real lion looks like. Put on your favorite song, close your eyes, and imagine a blissful reality where The Lion King 2019 does not exist.

Now regrettably, we must exit this imaginary world and return to the hyper-realistic nature documentary known as the Lion King 2019:

oh

oh no

oh dear

I know, right?

Now, what exactly is wrong with these pictures?

1.) The toes are too bony and overly-defined

At best, they look like dog or wolf feet. At worst, they look like fingers, skeletons, sausages, or dinosaurs.

You can see the difference in the comparison down below, between a wolf (left), the remake (middle), and a real lion (right).

The lack of fur and connecting tissue on the feet only contributes to this issue - making the anatomy flaws more noticeable, and overall looks very creepy.

TL;DR:

2.) The legs are too skinny and oddly proportioned, often making them appear bowlegged or off-balance.

This combined with the small, bony feet makes them look more like hyenas or pit bulls than an actual lion. Seriously, if you just looked at the bodies alone, would you even be able to recognize them as lions?

Answer: No. (But feel free to use this Wolf’s Rain base free of charge)

3.) The limbs (particularly the front legs) are robotic and weightless, and do not move in a natural way

His foot is supposed to be off the ground in this shot, for the record.

It’s like they animated the body, legs, and paws completely independently from one another, with no regard for how the different muscles would actually interact with one another in real life.

Here is a real lion for comparison:

Notice how the toes are already turned and outstretched, before they even touch the ground. See how the weight falls onto his other shoulder, and the muscles tensing in it’s back leg as it prepares for takeoff? The paws should be leading the motion, not just added as an afterthought.

Now, let’s return to the remake again:

His legs don’t even look connected to his body, much less the ground.

Thanks, I hate it.

TL;DR:

4. The limbs lack bones, and bend in the wrong places.

help I think his leg is broken call an ambulance

It hurts just looking at this.

I must re-iterate: lions are not dogs.

While I suppose a lion could theoretically walk on their tippy-toes like that, lions tend to weigh an average of 300-700 pounds, as opposed to a wolf’s 70-120. And unless they’re trained ballerinas, putting their full weight on their toes like that would likely be very painful.

The weight distribution should rest closer to where the “ball” of your hand or foot would be - not the actual toe bones themselves.

I wasn’t sure if what I was saying made a lick of sense, so here’s an attempt to illustrate:

At the same time, friendly reminder that lions are not bipedal, and the “heel” should not be touching the ground when standing.

TL;DR:

5.) The claws are always visibly protruding, and look way too small and delicate

It looks like they’re wearing SoftPaws. Thanks, I hate it.

6.) The legs bend, twist, and distort in confusing and unnatural ways.

This is the part I find particularly infuriating. Mr. Jon “ooh, we can’t have pretty skies or expressions or eyebrows or red fruit or a monkey holding a stick because it’s too ~unrealistic~ uwu” Favreau over here.

But then he has the lions constantly do shit like this:

Or this:

And this:

This might be the worst shot in the whole movie. it looks like Sarabi got possessed by a vengeful ghost and is about to use her weirdly human hands to tear Simba apart like a KFC drumstick

but no, obviously I am the fool, and I just don’t “get it”. i love realism that comes at the expense of art. i love corporate nostalgia. i love the lion king 2019, my favorite part is when the motion lines turn into a FUCKING ASTERIX

Such realism. Wow.

Anyways, that about wraps this up, thanks for listening, and I...

Wait a second.

What.

the fuck

Is THAT

Well I need some time to emotionally recover from this, so see you next century for part three - where I’ll be covering either the lighting, the cubs, or the stampede sequence. Whichever I can finish first.

Okay, that’s all for real now, goodbye everyone I’ll remember you all in therapy

[lunar-wandering]

Lanterns and Lies

surprise!! here we go, the sequel to Glamours and Gauze!

Word Count: 7k

Read on Ao3

-

Macaque had lied, when he said the shadow lantern was gone.

When the Lady Bone Demon had caught him, she had made a specific note of needing the lantern.

And, well, Macaque wouldn't let that happen.

So he'd shattered it, again, and during the Lady Bone Demon's momentary shock, he'd taken the opportunity to gather the broken pieces and run.

One of her minions had cut him with the cursed knife while he was running away.

That didn't matter now though, his injuries had been healed, and the Lady Bone Demon had yet to make another move. For now, sitting on the roof of the noodle shop, he was safe.

He starred down at the shattered pieces of the lantern in his hands.

With a sigh, he carefully extended his magic, putting the pieces back together again, reforming the lantern. He held it gently in his hands as he looked around the roof.

Now where was he gonna hide this-

"Macaque, I brought plums!"

Macaque startled upon hearing MK's voice, he'd been so distracted focusing on putting the lantern back together, he hadn't even heard the other climb up the ladder to the roof.

The.....lantern....

Which he told MK was gone....

In a rush to avoid MK seeing the lantern, Macaque did the first thing he thought of.

He shoved the lantern into himself, letting it mix into his own magic. Not the smartest way of storing it, it was a highly magical item, who knows how it would act while in direct contact with his magic, but it was the first thing he could think of, and this was only a temporary measure, so it should be fine.

....Probably.

"Hey bud, what's up?" Macaque asked, turning around to face MK, who was setting a small bowl of plums on the ground. "...What are the plums for?"

"You said that if I brought you some plums, you'd tell me about the time Monkey King walked into a tree." MK said, "And I fully expect you to keep your end of the bargain."

"Yeah, yeah, okay." Macaque said, grabbing the bowl of plums. "Well you see, what happened was-"

-

"That had to be the stupidest shit you've ever pulled, Wukong." Macaque said, breathing heavily as he leaned against a tree. Wukong for his part, just smirked.

"I didn't see you try to stop me." He said, laughing as Macaque glared at him.

"I did try to stop you. Multiple times. But you didn't listen." He said, "You really need to stop picking a fight with every random person you meet."

"You're no fun at all." Wukong said, yawning as he stretched. Macaque rolled his eyes.

"Whatever." He said, "Anyways, we should probably head back to the cave, get some rest-"

"I'm not tired." Wukong said.

"You literally yawned a few seconds ago."

"Doesn't mean I'm tired. Besides, there's still more stuff to do." Wukong said, turning and walking off further into the mountain's forest, Macaque trailing behind him. As they walked, Macaque noticed Wukong start slouching, little by little. He didn't say anything though, knowing that Wukong would only deny it if asked.

It would be better just to watch and deal with the consequences when they came.

And oh boy, did the consequences come: in the form of Wukong turning a corner and immediately walking directly into a tree. The tree snapped in half, falling to the ground, with Wukong tumbling down after it. There was a loud thump, as dust and leaves were sent flying into the air. A few nearby birds called out in concern.

"Timber." Macaque said, a smirk on his face, walking over and crouching down beside where Wukong now lay on his back with a dazed expression on his face. "So. Not tired, huh?"

"Shut up." Wukong hissed, sitting up, pulling dirt and leaves out of his fur as he did so. "The tree just. Got in my way, that's all-"

"You're expecting me to believe that a tree got up and put itself in your path?" Macaque asked, "Wukong. I'm not stupid. Let's just hurry up and go back to the cave to rest already."

"I'm fine." Wukong said, moving to stand up, but wobbling a little, tipping backwards again-

Macaque caught him, keeping him from having another close encounter with the ground.

-

"I ended up having to carry him all the way back up the mountain." Macaque said, making little images with his shadows in order to give MK a better visual of what happened. "He ended up sleeping for like, 3 days. Took him still being tired when he woke up again for me to realize he'd gotten cursed. Wasn't hard to break it afterwards, but boy did Wukong protest the whole time. Practically had to tie him to his bed."

MK scribbled in his sketch book, and Macaque, out of curiosity, moved closer, looking over MK's shoulder to see a sketch of what Macaque had just described.

"....You're drawing this?" He asked. MK nodded.

"Yeah! I've got a lifetime goal of illustrating all of Monkey King's adventures!" MK said, pausing his sketching to show Macaque a quick flip through of the rest of the book. "...You got any other stories?"

"Lots." Macaque said, leaning back. "But you're gonna have to bring more plums if you want more stories. I'm not just gonna hand this info out for free."

"Of course, of course." MK said, standing up and walking back over to the ladder, mumbling to himself as he climbed back down. "I'm going to have to permanently add plums to my shopping list...."

Macaque stayed where he was, waiting patiently until he couldn't hear MK anymore, before letting out a relieved sigh.

That had been close.... No matter what, he couldn't let the others know that he still had the lantern. Revealing that would probably cause the others to push him away, they wouldn't trust him anymore, and he really couldn't have that. Hanging around them was the most advantageous position for him to be in right now, and he wasn't about to give it up any time soon.

...He still needed a place to hide it permanently, keeping it inside of himself probably wouldn't be a good idea in the long term. With that thought in mind, he mentally reached inwards with his magic, shadows starting to surround him as he prepared to take the lantern out-

"Hey, Macaque!"

Macaque startled again, the shadows that had condensed around him vanishing as though they'd been popped like party balloons as he whirled around to see-

Mei, who giggled at his shocked expression, holding up her phone and taking a quick picture of him before pocketing it.

"Would you two stop doing that?" Macaque asked, sighing as Mei circled around him.

"Hey, it's not my fault you didn't hear me coming." Mei said, giggling at the expression on Macaque's face. "Seriously, with all those ears you have it's a wonder you didn't-"

"What do you want." Macaque growled, "You wouldn't be here if you didn't want something."

"Wouldn't I?"

That. Wasn't a question Macaque felt that he could answer. He honestly couldn't think of a reason why any of MK's friends would want to be around him, but they hadn't really been pushing him away either....

Mei seemed a little concerned with how he'd suddenly gone silent though, so it was probably best to quickly change the subject.

"Ah, anyways, I have some stuff to do, so I don't really have time for you." Macaque said, walking past Mei and over to the edge of the rooftop. Distantly, he noted a weird tingling sensation come over him, but he ignored it, figuring it wasn't important.

"Oh, now that's a lie." Mei said, a smirk on her face. "You never do anything other than lounge around up here."

"Do not." Macaque said, crossing his arms. "I do plenty, you just haven't noticed."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

Macaque pondered for a moment on how best to answer-

And that was when his foot started sinking into the shadow underneath of him.

Outwardly, Macaque remained perfectly calm, not letting Mei in on the fact that anything was amiss.

Inwardly, he panicked.

That was definitely not supposed to be happening, why was it happening it shouldn't be happening why was he l o s i n g  c o n t r o l-

He was snapped out of his panic when he heard the sound of an engine starting up behind him. Subtly looking over his shoulder, he could see MK, ready to drive off, probably to deliver some noodles.

Macaque made his decision in a split second.

Turning and pulling his foot out of the shadow it'd been sinking into, Macaque jumped off the roof. Ignoring Mei's shout of "Hey, wait!", he slipped into the shadow of the tuk tuk, just before MK started to drive away.

-

Macaque hung out in the shadow of the tuk tuk for about 15 minutes before he actually bothered to wonder where exactly MK was going.

MK slowed down a bit as he turned a corner, and Macaque figured it was as good a time as any to ask.

Carefully, he materialized on the back of the tuk tuk, then, after making sure there wasn't anything around for MK to accidentally hit should he swerve, asked;

"Where are you going?"

MK's foot slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching and Macaque almost falling off from the sudden inertia. As soon as they were still, MK whirled around, staring at Macaque, shocked.

"How long have you been there?" He asked, and the expression on his face genuinely made Macaque laugh.

"Oh, not very long." Macaque said, "I was riding along in the shadow for the most part."

"...You can do that?" MK asked, "You probably save like, so much money when traveling then-"

"Bold of you to assume that I have any money at all." Macaque said, "Anyways, you didn't answer the question. Where are you going?"

"Why do you want to know?" MK asked, crossing his arms. "And why are you here anyways? Usually you just stay on the roof, what changed?"

"Nothing! What, can't I just want to go for a ride once in a while?" Macaque said-

And his hand started sinking into the shadow beside him. Swiftly, he pulled it out, rubbing it to get rid of the remaining tingles. MK watched this happen with a look of suspicion.

"...Uh-huh, sure, like I believe that." He said, tone as dry as the desert. "And anyways, I don't think you'd want to-"

And then he paused, looking as though he'd just been hit with some kind of realization.

"Actually-" MK started, "I think it would be good if you came with me."

He turned back around, taking his foot off the break and turning back onto the road, speeding up a little.

"You still haven't told me where we're going." Macaque said.

"Oh, you'll soon find out."

Macaque had a feeling he wasn't going to like this.

-

He was right. He hated this.

Staring up at a temple that quite obviously belonged to Sun Wukong, Macaque regretted every decision he had made in his life that had led up to this moment.

He regretted it even more when the monkey himself opened the front gate.

"Ah, there you are kid!" Wukong said, "I was beginning to think you'd never show up!"

"I'm only 2 minutes late..." MK muttered, and Macaque couldn't help but laugh a bit at that.

Sun Wukong was not, exactly, known for being very patient after all.

"Oh, I see you brought... an audience." Wukong said, finally noticing that Macaque was, in fact, also there.

"Audience? Please, if anything I'm the lead actor." Macaque said.

"Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that." MK said, and Macaque would've hit him where it not for the warning glance Wukong gave him.

-

Macaque ended up being dragged to MK's training sessions with Wukong, again and again. Some days it was because MK himself forcibly brought him along, and on other days it was because Macaque was simply avoiding Mei. (He denied the accusation that he was avoiding her when asked...and then almost tripped as his foot sank deeper into the shadows. Luckily he'd managed to blame it on a stray tree root, but he wasn't sure how long he could keep it up...) 

Over the course of said days, Macaque had tried multiple times to find a better place to hide the lantern than within his own magic. (He'd long since figured out that the lantern was reacting whenever he lied, thus messing with his own magic. He had no idea why it was doing this, but the why didn't really matter so long as he could find a way to stop it.) But of course, since karma was apparently out to get him, he was interrupted by someone every single time, forcing him to keep the lantern within himself, lest the others find out about it.

Honestly though, he was shocked that Wukong hadn't noticed, considering his golden vision and all, he should've been able to see the fact that the lantern's magic was contained within Macaque.

(Macaque had nearly panicked when, on day 2 of him following MK to his training, Wukong had leaned close to him with a contemplative look on his face.

"...Why are you so close to me?" Macaque had asked, and huh, how long had that slit been in Wukong's eyebrow? Had it been there for a while and Macaque had just never noticed or-

"I'm checking to see how much of the glamor you're wearing." Was Wukong's response, as he studied him. "You're still recovering, you probably shouldn't be using magic to cover all of it."

So....Wukong was concerned about him. Macaque couldn't really imagine why, but still-

"You didn't need to get so close to me- can't you obviously see I'm wearing it?" Macaque had asked, gesturing at his own face. Wukong, surprisingly, winced at that, finally backing up a bit.

"Well, I guess you seem fine." He'd muttered, turning away, "Don't know why I was even worried."

And Macaque should've been relieved, but for some reason-

For some reason he felt like something was wrong.)

-

Macaque relaxed in the shade of a tree, watching Wukong train MK. It was almost soothing to watch the mentor and student trade hits as they sparred.

But of course, being relaxed didn't mean that Macaque didn't notice things.

Like how Wukong was a full 2 seconds slower in blocking MK's attacks than he'd been when Macaque had stolen MK's powers. Which wasn't really something that would normally raise concern- he probably just wasn't being as serious as he would be when encountering an actual threat, but.

Something about it was making the alarm bells that had been constantly ringing in Macaque's head louder. (Something he, obviously, didn't appreciate. Loud sounds, even mental ones, weren't very pleasant for him).

Macaque, of course, was never one to miss an opportunity to call Wukong out.

Which was why it was so surprising when MK beat him to the punch.

"Monkey King, are you okay?" MK asked, and Macaque sat up straighter, paying more attention, because oh, he wanted to hear this.

"Of course bud! Why do you ask?" Wukong said, and despite the fact that his back was to Macaque, the shadow monkey just knew that the other was lying.

"Well I don't know, you've just- seemed off, is all." MK said, shifting back and forth as he seemed to contemplate what to say. "Like, a little slower maybe? And I haven't seen you use your cloud in days, which is kinda weird, since you normally seem to use it-"

Wukong stiffened, and it was at this point that Macaque got genuinely curious, deciding that he had to see what kind of expression the other monkey was making right now. So, he slipped down into the shadows of the tree, and reappeared out of MK's shadow, startling the both of them as he slung an arm around MK's shoulder. 

"Kid's right y'know." Macaque said, putting on a smirk as he looked at the other. "Even I've noticed, and I've barely even been paying attention."

That was a lie, and he barely kept himself from wincing as he felt the tingle of magic flow through his body.

Only for nothing to seemingly happen. That was...mildly concerning, he'd felt the flow of magic, so something had definitely occurred, he just couldn't tell what.

...Well, whatever. If he couldn't notice it then it probably wasn't important.

Macaque refocused back in on the subject at hand, studying Wukong's expression. Nothing he hadn't expected, the usual nervous smile and look in his eyes that indicated he was lying where all there.

Or, well, most of it was expected.

The slight twinge of fear was new.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing wrong!" Wukong said, taking a slight step back. "I'm fine, really!"

Both MK and Macaque rolled their eyes in sync.

"If you're so fine, then explain to me why you keep waiting until MK is almost right in front of you before blocking him?" Macaque asked, MK nodding along as he spoke. "Seriously, it's like you can't see it unless it's close-"

Both Macaque and MK froze, coming to the same conclusion at the same time. Wukong, seeing the expressions on their faces, scratched his cheek nervously, avoiding their gaze.

"Oh my heavens." MK said, "You need glasses."

"I do not-"

-

Tang had been having a peaceful day at the noodle shop.

Having, being the key word.

Because suddenly, said peaceful day was interrupted as Macaque appeared out of nowhere beside him. Tang barely kept himself from startling out of his stool. (He'd started to grow used to the shadow monkey's sudden appearances, but that didn't really make them any less startling).

Macaque, for a moment, looked confused as to where he was, looking around in surprise, before taking notice of Tang and schooling his features into something unreadable.

"Oh." He said, "Uh. Hello?"

"Hello to you too, Macaque?" Tang said, a little confused, before finally taking notes of one important fact.

Macaque's eyes were fully purple.

"...Ah." Tang said, "Not Macaque."

"Hm, smart man." 'Macaque' said, leaning back, "Nope, I'm not the original. Just a shadow clone, that's all I am."

"Why are you here? Is there trouble?" Tang asked, worry seeping into his voice. The clone just shrugged.

"Dunno." 'Macaque' said, "One minute, I didn't exist, the next, I'm here."

"How can you just not know?" Tang asked, blinking in disbelief.

"He probably created me on accident." 'Macaque' said, almost as casually as though he was reading out a morning newspaper.

"That can happen??"

"Well, not normally, but in certain cases-" The clone started, then paused, eyes narrowing. "Well, actually, if that's the case, he probably doesn't know I exist right now..."

"Shouldn't you... tell him?" Tang asked, and watched as the clone contemplated it.

"Well I mean, not telling him would be kind of funny." He said, before shaking himself out of it. "No- no, you're right, I should probably tell him."

The clone proceeded to go completely silent, and Tang watched him with thinly veiled concern. After about 2 minutes of silence, with the clone making increasingly dramatic facial expressions, Tang decided to comment again.

"...Are you actually contacting him right now?" He asked, and the clone broke out of whatever state he was in to glance at him.

"Hm? Oh- yeah." He said, "Mental connection, y'know?"

"Then how come MK doesn't ever-"

"Cause he doesn't know it exists."

-

Of course. Of course the lantern had made a clone.

That certainly explained why there hadn't been any obvious reaction after the magic tingle.

Although, it was weird that the clone had ended up in the noodle shop. Why on Earth would it have formed there?

(In all honesty, it was probably because, once again, Macaque felt safe there. But he never planned to admit that fact, not even to himself, so he slid that thought back into the deepest part of his mind.)

As it was now though, Macaque sat back under the tree, head in hands, mentally communicating with the clone as MK and Wukong continued to argue about whether or not the Monkey King needed glasses.

"C'mon!" MK said, stomping his foot on the ground, "Just admit that you're nearsighted already! It's obvious!"

"I don't need glasses!" Wukong said, hopping backwards as MK tried to tackle him. "I can see just fine!"

This statement was contradicted, as MK suddenly moved backwards, distancing himself from his mentor. Macaque could see Wukong squint, something he wouldn't normally do-

And then MK moved forwards, with a speed Macaque honestly hadn't seen him use before (and wasn't that funny, that somehow this argument was actually causing MK's speed to improve) and managed to tackle Wukong to the ground.

A roll of parchment fell out of one of Wukong's pockets.

"Oh?" Macaque said, standing up, temporarily blocking his shadow clone's messages out of his mind (it was fine anyways, it seemed to have gotten distracted), he walked over, picking up the roll of parchment. "What's this?"

"Wh-Hey!" Wukong said, looking up from his position of being pinned to the ground by MK, squinting his eyes as he focused on Macaque. "Don't- give that back!"

"Well now, if you're so pressed over it then I kinda have to look, right?" Macaque said, slowly unrolling the scroll despite Wukong's protests. MK, surprisingly, kept Wukong pinned, watching with curiosity as Macaque looked over the parchment's contents. "....Huh."

"What is it?" MK asked, and Macaque turned, holding out the unrolled parchment so that MK could see it. Wukong, at this point, stopped struggling, simply laying on the ground face down.

"Tell me, Wukong, why exactly do you need a map?" Macaque asked, crouching down in front of the other. "You planning on going on vacation again or something?"

"You're going to leave me again?" MK asked, and maybe Macaque was just hearing things (rather unlikely....) but there was almost a note of panic in MK's voice.

Wukong must've picked up on the panic too, as he quickly jumped into reassurance.

"Woah, hey, I'm not- I'm not vacationing any time soon." He said, attempting to shift around a little, before sighing. "...Could you get off me now, please?"

MK scrambled to get off his mentor, Wukong slowly sitting up and stretching a little. Macaque rolled his eyes at the display, shaking the map a little to draw their attention back to it.

"Hey, I'm not letting you off that easily." He said, "Explain the map. Now."

Wukong sighed again, avoiding both Macaque and MK's eyes.

"...Fine, so maybe I.....wasn't exactly on vacation...." Wukong muttered, "I was...searching for something. A weapon."

"...To fight the Lady Bone Demon, right?" MK asked, and Wukong looked at him in shock.

"How'd you-"

"Maybe leaving your successor alone when there's a powerful demon on the loose isn't the best decision, Wukong." Macaque said, rolling up the map and putting into his own pocket, before lightly rubbing his arm, a few specific... memories running through his mind. "Seriously, be glad she still hasn't gotten everything she needs."

"What do you know about what she-" MK started, then cut himself off, looking at Macaque as though he'd been given the answer to everything. "She's the one who hurt you."

Macaque didn't respond, turning around and walking away.

"Hey wait- where are you-" Wukong started-

"I'm going back to my spot under the tree." Macaque said, "You two can sort through whatever your 'vacation' was about on your own."

-

"...Huh." The shadow clone muttered, eyes closed as he seemingly listened in on whatever was happening to the real Macaque. "That's.....interesting."

"What is?" Tang asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Nothing really important." The clone said- and started melting slightly. Tang looked on in confusion as the clone suddenly panicked, stumbling over his words. "Wait- no I mean- it, it is important, but not really something I should be the one to tell you about?"

The melting stopped, the shadow clone returning to normal as he let out a sigh of relief.

"Does that....usually happen?" Tang asked.

"No." The clone answered, but didn't elaborate. Tang figured he'd just have to ask the real Macaque about it later. "...Anyways, do you think you could help the real me out with something?"

"Depends on what said something is." Tang said, crossing his arms.

"It's nothing bad, I promise." The shadow clone said, chuckling. "But, would you happen to know where I could buy a pair of glasses?"

-

"This is dumb. I look stupid."

"Aw come on Monkey King, I think you look cool!" Mei said, MK nodding along with her. "The glasses suit you just fine!"

Wukong sighed, sitting in the noodle shop with his arms crossed, leaning on the counter.

"What's with the sudden need for glasses anyways?" Pigsy asked, sliding a bowl of peach slices over to the monkey. Subtly, he also handed a bowl of plums over to Macaque, who was sitting slightly off to the side in the shadows.

Wukong stiffened, pausing for a moment before opening his mouth to answer-

"And don't lie to me." Pigsy added, and Wukong slouched a little.

(Macaque had to admit, it was kinda fun to watch the Monkey King basically get reprimanded like a child.

The only reason he didn't comment on it was that he was sure that if he did, he'd get the exact same treatment.)

There was a moment of silence, before Wukong groaned, laying his head down on the table, and muttering something that was too quiet for the others to hear, but nearly made Macaque choke on the plum he'd been chewing on.

"What?!" He said, in pure shock, "You- you're losing your powers?!"

Almost instantly, there was pandemonium.

"What do you mean you're losing your powers!" MK practically screeched, "That can happen?!"

"I don't know, but it's the only explanation I've got!" Wukong said, throwing his hands up into the air. "I can't use my golden vision or my cloud anymore- and I don't know why!"

"How, exactly, does this relate back to you suddenly needing glasses?" Pigsy asked, completely ignoring how the others where in varying states of a mental breakdown.

"I- I usually just use my golden vision to make up for it." Wukong said, "Like, magic contacts, you know?"

"...And now you can't do that anymore." Tang said, "Because you can't use your golden vision."

"......Yeah." Wukong sighed.

"Is there...anything we can do to help?" Sandy tentatively asked.

"Well, I was planning on going out and finding.... something." Wukong said, turning to look at Macaque. "Speaking of which, you promised you'd give me the map back once I got glasses, and I'm wearing them now so-"

Macaque tsk'd, pulling the map out of his pocket and tossing it over to the other monkey, who caught it and placed it upon the counter. 

"It's not like I can go and get it now though." Wukong said, the others staring over him to look down at the map. "Since I can't use my cloud anymore..."

"I have an airship." Sandy said, and Wukong turned to look at him in confusion. "We could use that, to travel there."

"What- no. No. Absolutely not." Wukong said, jumping up onto the counter (ignoring Pigsy disapproving glare), and staring down at the others. "In case you don't remember, you guys have something called mortality. I'm not going to just bring you guys with me-"

"Like you have much of a choice." A new voice said, and Macaque barely kept himself from startling as he suddenly noticed Red Son beside him.

"How long have you been there-" Macaque hissed, but was ultimately ignored.

"You coming too, Red Boy?" Mei asked, despite Wukong's faint protests that nobody was coming with him, thank you very much-

"I have nothing better to do." Red Son said, shrugging. "My parents went on vacation a little while ago, I've just been hanging around since then."

"So, we're all going?" MK asked, glancing over at Macaque, who, realizing he was being stared at, sighed, standing up and stepping closer to them, in the light.

"Fine, whatever." He said, "If you guys want me to go, I'll come, but I'm not happy about it."

The others stared at him, with a mixture of confusion and shock.

"....What?" Macaque asked, already dreading the answer. MK slowly pointed behind him.

"Has your shadow always moved like that?" He asked, and Macaque didn't even bother to look, instead immediately slamming his back against the wall to cover it as he threw a glamor over his own shadow. He wasn't sure what it had been doing that the others saw, but he absolutely refused to let it be seen any longer.

"...Whatever it was you saw, forget about it." He said, and while most of the others simply shrugged, accepting it as just him being weird, looking away-

The look in Mei and Wukong's eyes did not promise good things.

-

The first day on the ship, everyone was mainly focused on settling in, making sure all their stuff was where it needed to be, choosing rooms, so on and so forth.

And so, for the most part, Macaque was free from whatever Wukong and Mei were planning.

The second day on the ship, however.

The second day on the ship made Macaque wish the airship had a plank so he could jump off of it.

It had started small.

"Hey, Macaque?" Mei asked, grabbing his attention before practically shoving her phone into his face. "What do you think about this?"

Macaque could barely register the image in front of his face, but eventually parsed it out to be a picture of- a kitten??

"I hate it." He said, instinctively, and almost immediately started sinking into the shadow beneath him. Mei, being so close to him, immediately noticed, confusion flashing on her face for a brief second, before a smirk took over.

"If you say so." She said, and backed off, turning away as Macaque hurriedly pulled his feet out of the shadows before he could sink any further.

Some part of him hoped that would be the end of it.

As soon as he ran into Wukong though, he instantly knew that this wasn't over by a long shot.

"Macaque." Wukong said, leaning against the wall, and Macaque instantly noticed that his glasses were missing.

"You owe Tang 5 cents." Macaque hissed, it was well known that Tang had made the Monkey King promise to pay him whenever the monkey was caught not wearing his glasses. Macaque, of course, didn't really care, but he was looking for some way to distract Wukong from whatever he was planning to do to him.

"I'll pay him later." Wukong shrugged, and Macaque mentally cursed. "So. How'd you sleep last night?"

Macaque wasn't going to be led into the trap this obviously was.

"How did you sleep last night?" He shot back.

"I didn't." Wukong said, perfectly honest. "I did see you walking around for a bit though, so I'm curious as to whether or not you slept. You need it more than I do, remember?"

That.... was true. Macaque did need to sleep more than Wukong did, but-

"I slept just fine." Macaque lied, sighing as he felt the glamor over his ears fade away. Wukong crossed his arms, a concerned look on his face, but Macaque ignored it, choosing instead to walk into a nearby shadow to teleport to another location on the ship, throwing his glamor back on as he did so.

(He, in truth, was in the same boat as Wukong, both literally and figuratively. He hadn't slept at all, instead laying awake all night, worrying.

Wukong was losing his powers. MK was not nearly close enough to being ready. The others, outside of Red Son, might have some powers or abilities, but they are no where near close enough to being capable of beating the Lady Bone Demon.

He'd have to rely on the unknowns of this weapon Wukong was seeking out.

Macaque didn't like relying on unknowns.)

He emerged in the ships engine room-

And very nearly fell right on top of Red Son.

"Watch where you're going!" Red Son huffed, dodging out of the way and angrily brushing non existent dirt off of his jacket. "Seriously, what is with you guys and trying to knock me to the ground?"

"Maybe you just look very squishable." Macaque muttered, not really intending on giving Red Son a proper response. He actually didn't want to interact with anyone right now, especially not Red Son, so he turned, moving to leave the engine room-

"Not so fast." Red Son said, stopping Macaque in his tracks by grabbing hold of the back of his scarf. "I've got some questions for you."

Hm. That didn't bode well.

"What makes you think that I have any answers?" Macaque asked, only to be met by a deadpan look that promised-

That promised fire if he didn't co-operate.

If there was a list of things Macaque strictly didn't want, fire would be number one, at the top of the list.

"...What do you want to know?" He asked, slumping a little in defeat.

"Why you stayed." Red Son said, elaborating when Macaque only looked at him in confusion. "Your wound healed. You were perfectly free to go. And yet.... you stayed. Like you were....trying to protect something."

"Uh, yeah, myself, obviously." Macaque said, shrugging. "Hanging out around the Monkey King and his successor is the safest place to be after-"

"That's not it." Red Son said, and Macaque froze. "Sure, staying around them while you're weak makes sense, you'd need someone to protect you. But after you've recovered? Once you're strong again? Sure, I can understand you getting attached, but always staying around them is a little strange."

There was a glint, in Red Son's eye, and Macaque suddenly remembered a moment, yesterday, where Mei had dragged the fire demon off to the side to have a little conversation. He'd thought nothing about it at the time, but now-

"You say that you're protecting yourself....But at this point, somehow, you're mostly protecting them, aren't you?" Red Son asked, "Whatever it is you're hiding, you're hiding it to protect both yourself and them."

Macaque didn't answer, instead staring at the floor.

Whatever Mei and Wukong had been planning, Red Son was in on it.

And he was very clearly not as interested in taking a subtle approach.

"Your powers have been on the fritz lately." Red Son said, almost like it was an afterthought to his whole theory. "Don't think that we haven't noticed. It's different from Wukong though, in that you're not losing your powers, if anything, it's like they're getting stronger, almost as though they're being drawn from a different source-"

Macaque didn't want to stay here any longer.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He lied, and didn't resist as his powers fluctuated in response, letting himself completely fall into the shadow behind him.

-

He ended up falling out of a shadow on the ceiling.

Luckily, it was in his own room, so no-one else was there to witness it.

Didn't mean it didn't hurt though.

"...That's gonna bruise later...." He muttered to himself as he slowly pushed himself off the floor and stood up.

For a moment, he just stood there, slightly dazed.

And then he started pacing.

This was not good, the others were onto him, he wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer.

Not to mention the lantern, it's influence on his abilities was getting stronger the longer he left it inside himself. There was literally no telling how far it's influence would go.

(He'd already started noticing some strands of his fur turning purple. It wasn't anything that couldn't easily be covered up by a glamor, but the fact it was happening at all was incredibly concerning.)

He had to find another place to hide it. But where-

And suddenly, Macaque was struck by an idea. A rather bad idea, honestly, there was sure to be consequences from this, but it was the only idea he had right now.

-

The ship's clock struck 4 am.

Macaque slipped into MK's room, holding the faintly glowing lantern.

For a moment, he stood there, beside MK's bed, letting the lantern hover over top of him, thinking.

Maybe......maybe he shouldn't do this. He could probably find another way, something more reasonable than a hastily made, sleep deprived, decision. After all, the lantern had proven that it came with side effects, who knows how it'd affect MK?

Well. If he's actually being honest, he was hoping that the Monkey King Magic MK had would effectively cancel out the lanterns effects.

...He had no way of proving that it could do that though.

After a few more minutes of standing there, mentally debating, Macaque finally came to the decision that, yeah, this wasn't a good idea, he should just go back to his room and try to sleep for the few remaining hours of the night, come up with a better plan tomorrow-

A loud sound clanged from the engine room, and Macaque startled, barely keeping himself from squeaking as the sudden noise surprised him, squeezing his hands on instinct-

And snapping the lantern in half, the bottom piece falling and merging into MK's magic.

For a moment, Macaque just stood there in shock.

Then MK curled up, letting out a small noise of pain as little golden and purple sparks started shooting across his body, and Macaque panicked, reaching into MK's magic and hurriedly pulling out the other half of the lantern, shoving both pieces back into himself as MK started to stir.

By the time MK was sitting up, blinking his eyes open, rubbing his arms and looking around the room in confusion, Macaque was gone.

-

The next day, Wukong practically broke down Macaque's door, MK in tow.

"Mine explaining to me why there are traces of shadow magic all over MK?" He asked, before pausing as he registered the scene in front of him.

Macaque was curled up under his blankets, a pillow over his head effectively hiding him from view. The only part of the other monkey that Wukong could actually see was his tail, which was dangling over the side.

This wasn't really that weird, Wukong fully remembered that the other monkey was in no way a morning person.

...It was slightly more weird due to the fact that it was lunchtime.

"Is he...okay?" MK asked, leaning over his mentor's shoulder.

"You tell me." Wukong said, "You're the one with the golden vision right now."

Macaque's tail, which had been swinging idly, froze, and suddenly there was a mad scramble as he tried to pull all the blankets off of himself and sit up at the same time. Essentially, he ended up rather tangled, and was far too late to stop MK from using his golden vision.

-

At first there was nothing MK hadn't already expected. The bags under the eyes, the mussed up fur, the six ears and the scar. These were all things he knew that he'd find.

The purple streaks in Macaque's fur was surprising.

But not nearly as surprising as the lantern that lay intermingled with Macaque's own magic.

"What do you see, kid?" Wukong asked, and MK watched as Macaque sat up straighter, finally managing to pull the blankets off of himself.

"Nothing! He sees nothing! Right, bud?" Macaque asked, a panicked twinge in his voice, and-

MK could see the lantern flare, the magic traversing Macaque's entire body, before condensing around his arm.

Which proceeded to sink into the shadow on the bed.

"...Well." MK started, staring as Macaque pulled his hand out of the shadow and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "That's not something you see every day."

-

"So I was right then?" Red Son asked, "He's been storing the lantern within himself?"

"How'd you even know about the lantern..." Macaque muttered, from where he sat at the kitchen table, leaning back with his arms crossed. His glamor had been taken down, allowing everyone to see the purple streaks in his fur.

The lantern sat on the table in front of him.

"I have my sources." Red Son said, looking overly proud of himself. Macaque huffed, looking away.

"I thought you said the lantern was destroyed?" Mei said, using a spoon to lightly poke the lantern, almost as though it would grow legs and run away.

"Yeah, like, I saw you break it-" MK started, and then was stopped mid sentence as Macaque raised his fist, before harshly crushing the lantern, breaking it into pieces. A few of the others jumped. "What did you do that for-"

Macaque simply raised his hand, letting his magic call out, and letting the pieces slide back into their proper place. By the end of it, the lantern looked as good as new, as though it'd never been broken. MK watched the display with wide eyes.

"I did break the lantern." Macaque said, "It's just not that hard to fix."

"Regardless-" Wukong started, grabbing the lantern out of Macaque's hand, the lantern switching from it's usual purple to a soft golden glow as he did so. "You seriously should've told us that you have this. It would've saved you so much trouble."

"Would you have trusted me, if you knew I still had it?" Macaque asked, only to be met with silence. "...Yeah. Thought so."

There was a moment of silence as Macaque sat there, looking down, not meeting anyone's eyes. Then Sandy softly placed his hand on Macaque's shoulder.

"It's not that we wouldn't have trusted you." He said, gently. "We would've just taken a bit longer to come around, is all."

"Uh-huh, sure, keep telling yourself that." Macaque said, still looking at the floor, and thus missing the entirely silent conversation everyone else shared.

They all agreed they probably weren't going to get very far with this issue any time soon, by the look of things. (That didn't mean they wouldn't bring it up later, though.)

"If you thought we wouldn't trust you if we knew you had the lantern, then why didn't you just, I don't know, throw it away?" MK asked, and Macaque sighed, slouching down in his chair.

"...Lady Bone Demon wanted it." He muttered, and everyone immediately stood up ramrod straight.

"What?" Wukong hissed, staring down at the lantern in his hands as though he was seeing it in a new light. "Why- what could she possibly want with-"

"Don't know, didn't stick around long enough to find out." Macaque said, shrugging. MK and Red Son both looked horrified.

"That's how you got injured." MK muttered, "She must've captured you because she wanted the lantern...."

"The Lady Bone Demon has a cursed blade..." Red Son said, under his breath, only Macaque hearing him.

"Yeah yeah, I got captured, I got injured, whatever, it's all over with now." Macaque said, waving a hand around as though he wasn't making light of something horrifying. "Anyways, anyone else got any bright ideas on where to hide the lantern?"

"....Was that a pun." Wukong asked, "Seriously. You reveal that the Lady Bone Demon is after both you and the lantern and then you swap topics with a pun?"

"You got a problem with that?" Macaque asked, a smirk on his face. There was a moment of tense silence as the two of them stared at each other.

Wukong set the lantern back down on the table.

And then tackled Macaque out of his chair and onto the floor. Macaque let out a startled yelp as they went down, before quickly switching to clawing at the other as Wukong easily pinned him to the ground-

And then suddenly Wukong's grip weakened, and Macaque easily reversed their positions, pinning Wukong to the floor. For a moment the Monkey King looked confused, before a look of nervous realization appeared on his face.

"Uh- guys?" He said, nervously giggling as Macaque and the others stared at him in confusion. "Um. I think I just lost my super strength?"

[rocorambles]

A Skulk of Foxes

Pairing: Kita x Reader

Prompt: Fantasy

Genre: SFW, Fluff, Fox Shifter Kita, Fantasy AU, Shifter AU

Summary: You moved to the woods to start fresh, begin a new chapter in your life. Little do you know just how much your world is about to change because of a skulk of foxes.  

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s SFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Thursday, October 29th 11:00pm U.K. time!) 

You sigh with relief when you finally finish unpacking the last box of your possessions, stretching your aching muscles as excitement finally begins to bubble inside of you when you proudly look at your new home you’ve made for yourself. Reality is finally sinking in and your giddy with the feeling of a fresh start, a new beginning. The quaint little cabin is certainly different from the cramped modern apartment you had in the heart of Tokyo, but different is exactly what you need and you nestle into the cozy armchair by the window in your new living room, a cup of hot tea in your hands as you enjoy the silence of nature and the view of swaying branches. 

If anyone were to have told you that you’d willingly choose to live in the middle of the woods by yourself a few years ago, you would have laughed. You were a city girl through and through and the idea of not being surrounded by the noise of traffic and crowds of people was baffling. But after your long-term relationship had taken a nosedive into the ground and crash and burned, suddenly the city felt suffocating, filled with too many memories, too many mutual acquaintances and when you had seen this listing on your way back home from work one night, you had jumped at the opportunity to escape it all and start a new chapter. 

Your new way of life takes some adjusting to, but you don’t mind as you pull on your new hiking boots, eager to explore the acres of wooded lands you’re surrounded by. The air is crisp and fresh, and you inhale deeply, soaking in the peaceful quiet only interrupted by the crunching of dirt and grass under your feet. And that’s how your days idle by, you scoping out the area in the early mornings as the sun is rising with your trusty nature handbook you’d bought in one hand, a basket in the other hand as you look back and forth between the herbs and plants you see and the painted illustrations and tips in the book, returning with a bundle of freshly picked produce before signing onto your work computer and dutifully putting in your hours. It’s a tiring grind, but when you finally get to power down your laptop and sit outside under the bright night stars with a glass of wine in your hand, it doesn’t seem so bad after all. 

You get savvier and more adventurous, really leaning into country living as you begin to grow your own vegetables and fruit, set up a fire pit, plant flowers that you use to spruce up your living space. It’s a wonderful life, but there’s only one slight concern in the back of your mind.

The foxes. 

Growing up in the city, you’d never learned how to handle animals other than the rats and roaches the concrete jungle was infested with. Sure, you love your share of fluffy dogs and cats that you’d pet and play with, but there’s a big difference between domesticized pets and wild animals and you had noticed early on that your neck of the woods seemed to be rampant with foxes. You wonder if it’s just the fact that you’d never seen a fox in real life before, but you can’t help but think these foxes seem much larger than your usual fox, their fur and eye colors ranging far more than you thought was biologically possible. But even though they seem to like hovering around you and watching you intently from a distance, they never draw near and they leave your gardens alone, so you dismiss their presence, letting them do as they please as you go about your own business. 

The weather’s getting colder and you figure now is the time to test the fire pit you’d built. It takes a bit of fumbling around, but you beam with pride when you get a flame started, mesmerized by the flickering light and warmth beginning to billow. And although the wind has a bite to it, the radiating heat keeps you comfortable as you roast the chicken you had bought in town, mouth already watering as the smell of cooked meat begins to permeate throughout the air. But you’re startled when two furry bodies suddenly brush up against you and you stay perfectly still, unsure what to do when a gold fox leaps into your lap, curling into a fluffy ball as he stares at you while a silver fox calmly sits next to you, nudging your hand with his head in a silent order to pet him and you tentatively scratch behind his ears, staring in awe as he leans into your touch. 

For wild animals, they’re oddly well behaved and affectionate and you’re frankly stunned that they hadn’t just pounced at the raw meat and ran away with your dinner. But you’re not complaining and you continue petting them as your meal continues cooking, only stopping to their dismay when the chicken is ready to be cut up. Your heart breaks a bit when you see them staring expectantly at you and you swear they're both pouting as you make a move to bring the chicken inside the house, but their ears perk up when you leave your door open and beckon them inside and they’re quick to race towards you, rushing between your legs before making their way to your dining table and jumping up on the extra chairs you have set. It’s certainly an odd sight to see two large wild foxes easily make themselves at home, but you can’t help but fondly smile at them when you prepare three plates of food and they eagerly dig in. 

They’re surprisingly neat about eating and it’s almost eerie how they seem to purposefully keep the scraps and bones on their plate, almost human-like the way they grab your napkin, using it to wipe their mouths and paws. Maybe they used to be someone’s pets? But you don’t dwell on it, enjoying the company they provide as they curl up by your feet as you wash the dishes, as their feet pitter-patter after you as you do some errands around the cabin and you’re almost sad when they nudge you to the door, waiting for you to let them out before you go to sleep. 

You quickly realize there’s nothing to be sad about, not when you have a furry entourage that walks beside you whenever you’re outside, not when bodies are weaving in between your legs, almost threatening to trip you with how excited they are to play with you, not when heads are constantly butting against you, begging for pets. It seems like your two friends had spread the word and now you have a whole slew of friendly foxes wanting to get to know you better and you love every second of it, even building a little door for them to easily walk in and out of your cabin and it becomes a common occurrence for you to wake up to fluffy bodies curled around your body, for foxes to be perched on your dining room chairs at meal times, for you to have a lap full of needy foxes wanting your attention when all your bellies are full.  

But there’s one fox who keeps his distance from you and even though he’s not the largest of the bunch, even you can sense the quiet authority he has as the other foxes are quick to lower their heads submissively and run to him when he barks at them. Even the golden fox who you’ve come to pinpoint as the troublemaker of the group seems to quiet down a bit around him and one day when he’s being just a tad too rowdy with you, nipping you harder than usual as he excitedly pounces on you, he immediately whines and sinks his head into the crook of your neck in apology when the light gray leader harshly growls at him. You affectionately pet the sad gold pile in your arms and verbally assure the gray fox that you’re fine even though you’re sure that he can’t understand a word you’re saying, but to your surprise, as if he comprehends exactly what you’re trying to convey, the gray fox relaxes a bit and lies back down, going back to quietly watching his pack and you. 

The weather’s becoming frigid and you know it’s silly to worry about clearly healthy and strong wild animals who’ve fended for themselves their whole lives, but you can’t help the pang of concern you have for your furry friends as snow begins to creep in. However, in hindsight, maybe you should have been more concerned for yourself. It’s an especially brutal day and you really shouldn’t be outside at all, not with the wind whipping at neck breaking speeds and torrential amounts of snow pouring down, but like a true city idiot, you’d procrastinated about restocking your wood supply and now with nothing left to keep you warm, you have no choice but to venture out and collect as much as you can to at least keep a fire going on during the worst of the snow storm. 

You pride yourself on knowing the woods like the back of your hand now, but the pain of the wind whipping your face and the never ending white in your vision as the snow keeps on coming down makes it hard to concentrate, makes it hard to orient yourself and as the frost begins to get to you, making you shiver, making you lose all train of thoughts other than the fact that you’re literally freezing to death, you panic. You’re frozen stiff as you wildly circle around, trying to calm the swirling dark thoughts in your head as you try to make sense of where you are, but it’s no use. Everything looks the same now and you think you might be sick from the rocketing anxiety inside of you, but you’re pulled back to reality by a harsh tug at your coat sleeve and you almost sob in relief when you see a familiar light gray pelt tipped with black. 

Brown eyes look imploringly at you as he gives your sleeve another harsh tug and that’s all the encouragement you need to stumble after him, trusting him to bring you back to safety. Your legs are numb and there’s not a hint of grace in your steps and for a second, you’re afraid of falling behind, but your heart warms at the way he makes sure to never be more than an arm's length in front of you, always turning his head back to make sure you’re still right behind him, nipping insistently at you when you pause for too long. And even when you finally reach your cabin, he practically shoves you through your door with his whole body, almost ripping your clothes as he rapidly helps you remove your soaked through clothing. 

You’re shocked to see him still standing outside your bathroom door when you finally step out of the warm water, but still overwhelmed and exhausted by the day’s events, you only briefly acknowledge him as your body barely makes it to your bed before collapsing. And as your eyes shut and you slip under a heavy cloud of sleep, you swear you feel arms and hands rearranging you, carefully tucking you underneath your blankets, propping your head up on a pillow. You swear you hear a male voice scolding you for putting yourself in danger, telling you to rest. But too exhausted to open your heavy lids, you chalk it up to your imagination before completely drifting off. 

You’ll never be able to fully explain what happened as you finally wake up only to find that a fire has been started, a healthy supply of dry wood set up by it, your wet clothes hung up to dry, but unable to really remember much after you’d been guided back to your cabin, you think you must have just been working on auto-pilot before you passed out. (Never mind that you certainly don’t remember collecting that much wood.) But with no better explanation, you let it be, just glad to be safe and warm. And it seems like you’re not the only one happy to still see you alive and kicking as familiar visitors come by to check in on you and you have a strange suspicion that they’re worried about you, even the gold fox being more docile than usual as he cuddles with you. To your surprise, their leader also pays you a visit and you can’t help but feel chastised when you thank him for rescuing you, only to get a sharp nip and a growl in return and you swear he’s glowering at you. But it seems that all is forgiven when he shoves the gold fox out of your lap and regally takes his place, curling up and falling fast asleep on top of you. 

They never let you leave your cabin alone again that winter and it’s almost comical when they let out a series of howls as you climb into your car when you refuse to let even one of them ride with you. You wonder if an outsider would think you’re crazy as you speak to them, telling them you’d be right back after you pick up some much needed supplies and food from town that you can’t get by yourself in the woods. But eventually they quiet down and you chuckle when you see them all sitting outside your cabin through your rear car window, watching you leave, and you have a strong suspicion that they’ll be in the same exact position waiting for you when you return home. 

The town’s small, but everyone’s so friendly and helpful that you don’t mind waiting a tiny bit longer in line as the sole cashier takes care of everyone, enjoying the friendly chitter chatter and catching up on what’s been going on. The sheriff greets you and you smile at the handsome man. Daichi had been one of the first people to go out of his way to greet you. “It’s a sheriff’s duty to know everyone in town,” he had said, but you had a feeling that sheriff or not, he’d still be friendly enough to try and get to know the new person in town. Conversation is pleasant as both of you share what’s been going on in your lives, but your heart drops when he warns you to be careful of poachers in your area. His team is still trying to find and arrest them, but until then, he cautions you from wandering too far from home. He continues rambling on, but you’ve completely tuned him out, your mind only thinking of your new furry family and everything is a blur as you shakily pack your car trunk and race home. 

Relief floods through you when you see the foxes still lazing about and lounging in your yard, perking up at the sight and sound of your rapidly approaching vehicle. But their fur stands up and their tails rise in agitation at your distressed state as you usher them into the safety of your cabin and before you know it, you’re surrounded by multiple bodies whimpering and trying to jump on you to soothe you. You know it’s silly to talk to them and try to explain what’s going on, but with no other way to relay your feelings, you tell them what Daichi had told you, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes when you beg them to be careful, telling them they can use your house as a safe shelter whenever they need, and you don’t even realize that you’re almost completely sobbing until their light gray leader leaps into your lap and gently laps away your salty tears, nuzzling his face against your cheek as if he’s trying to comfort you. And whether or not that’s really what he was intending, you do feel better as you hug his large body close to you, burying your face into his soft fur. 

You feel lighter after that night, still a little wary and concerned for your newfound friends, but days pass and life seems normal. You don’t hear gunshots. You don’t see strange men roaming through the woods. Daichi and you keep in contact and although he tells you they still haven’t caught the perpetrators yet, slight hope rises in you and you wonder if they’ve moved on to a different area. But your hopes are instantly dashed when you’re abruptly woken by paws frantically clawing at you, loud distressed howls right in your ear and with your heart thumping out of your chest you stare with wide bleary eyes at the gold and silver foxes nudging you out of bed, one leading the way, the other repeatedly rushing you, his head pushing against the back of your legs. 

You have a bad feeling about what has them in such an uproar and you hate that your apprehension was warranted when you see their leader crying in pain, an ugly sharp metal contraption digging deeply into one of his front legs and suddenly you’re moving even faster than your furry companions as you lunge towards him, quickly, but carefully trying to assess the damage, trying to figure out how to untangle him from the horrid trap. You’ve just managed to pry open the trap enough for him to free himself and limp a bit aways when you hear the sounds of men's voices and approaching footsteps. And there’s nothing friendly about the way they’re shouting, nothing welcoming about the glint of their guns in the flashlight beams bouncing around, so before you can even strategically think about what you’re doing, you pick up the injured fox, careful not to jostle or touch his wound as you run as fast as your legs can move, not stopping even when your lungs are burning from exertion, even when you want to keel over from exhaustion, urged on and not allowed to slow down by the nips to your ankles the gold and silver foxes give you as they run alongside you. 

Gunshots are whizzing around you, but you have the knowledge of the terrain and expert guides on your side and the angry screams get quieter and farther away the longer you race forward before soon enough there’s only your labored breathing and the tiny cries of the fox you’re holding to your chest. But despite that, you don’t slow down, throwing your front door open as you slowly lay the gray fox on your bed, rushing to grab your first-aid box while simultaneously calling Daichi, putting him on speaker phone as you wash the bloody matted fur. You know you must sound frazzled, distracted as you fumble with words, trying to give him the best approximate location you can of where you’d lost the poachers while you tenderly pet the whimpering fox who’s hissing with every wipe you give to his bleeding injury, but you thank whoever’s listening that Daichi makes sense of your stuttered words and tells you he’s on his way to scan the area and for you to get some rest before hanging up and leaving you to give your sole attention to your patient. 

You whisper sweet encouraging words in a soft tone, apologizing and stroking his stomach everytime he winces as you continue cleaning his wound, but he stays perfectly still, not budging even an inch despite his discomfort and when you finally bandage him up, you smile as you see him finally slumping into your bedsheets, exhaustion finally catching up to him now that adrenaline isn’t amping him up and you can’t help the affectionate kiss you plant on his forehead as you tuck him into your bed, unaware of the way brown eyes stare at you in shock, unblinking as they process the intimate gesture you’d gifted him. And when you get ready for bed, shooing the other foxes out of your room to give your special guest some space and peace to fully relax, you’re still oblivious to the way a wet snout tentatively returns your gesture when you close your eyes, making light contact with your own forehead before curling his furry head underneath your chin and basking in your natural warmth. 

It’s warm when you wake up, which is welcome when it’s frigid outside of the safety of your blankets and you instinctively lean into the source expecting to feel the familiar plush fur of the foxes who come to share your bed sometimes. But your eyes shoot open when you feel warm skin underneath your fingertips and you have to fight back the scream when you come face to face with a man you don’t recognize who’s groggily opening his brown eyes, your body scrambling backwards. Tangled in the sheets, you don’t get far and fear lances through you as you stare wide-eyed at the stranger beside you who’s...panicking even more than you are? 

You pause in your escape attempt as you take a closer look at the man who’s frantically wrapping your blanket around his bare body, brown eyes staring at you in fear which is strange considering this is your room he’s intruding in. Common sense tells you to be wary and yet there’s something familiar about his eyes and when you finally take note of his light gray hair tipped with black and the bandage around his arm, disbelief runs through you as you tentatively approach his huddled form. 

“Are you- are you the fox I took care of?”

Brown eyes warily observe you as you draw near, but they widen in surprise when your hand gently runs through his hair and you give him the same sweet smile you’ve always given him when he was in his fox form. 

“You’re not scared of me?” 

You laugh. “If anything, I’m more surprised than anything else. Care to explain?”

And spurred on by the hope that the human he’s come to love might actually accept him for who he really is, he is quick to tell you everything and anything and you listen in amazement as he tells you about shifters, how him and his pack are all fox shifters, how there are different types of shifters all over the world, how they’re much more common than humans realize. He tells you his name, Kita, and the names of every fox shifter you’ve met. He tells you about the awful history of humans hunting them down to sell on the black market which has led them to live as foxes, deep in the woods, away from any living soul. He tells you about how you’re the first human his pack has interacted with for years, the first human to gain their trust after years of loneliness, never being able to access or connect with their human side. 

There’s a brief moment of silence as you take everything in, still softly carding your fingers through his hair. But the lingering question in your head finally slips out. 

“Why did you reveal yourself to me now?”

And your lips quirk at the shy flustered expression on his face as he buries deeper into your cozy blankets. 

“I was too exhausted to keep my fox form after everything that happened last night.”

But before you can tease him a bit more, there’s a knock on your door and you panic, unsure how to explain the unknown man in your cabin. However, it seems that you have nothing to worry about when you spin around, only to see Kita’s fox form nonchalantly curled up in your bed, looking at you with his own smug amusement at your gaping mouth. You rush to the door, Kita padding after you, a slight limp from his front leg and upon seeing the sheriff through your peephole, you greet him, giddy with relief when he tells you that they’ve managed to apprehend all the poachers thanks to your tip last night. 

It never crosses your mind how strange it was that Daichi so easily arrested all the men despite your extremely vague directions and despite it being pitch black, but unknown to you, it’s easier than you think to maneuver through the dense night woods when you have wings. However, Kita’s more perceptive than you and when he scents the air, he looks in interest at the man who smells like a crow and brown and black eyes lock for a second as a hint of acknowledgement runs through Daichi’s eyes when the shifter inside of him sees the fox for what he really is. But it’s only a fleeting glance, too quick for your human eyes to notice, and Daichi parts ways, subtly nodding to the fox who’s currently laying on your feet before waving goodbye to you, leaving Kita and you alone once again. Well, maybe not that alone, you think, as a group of familiar foxes come racing towards the both of you once Daichi is gone. 

Life is chaotic, in a good way, but chaotic nonetheless after that. It’s a new dynamic for all of you as you try to merge your two worlds and ways of life together. It no longer phases you when you see glimpses of naked men running here and there as they shift between their human and fox forms and you’ve learned to always have spare sets of clothing on hand to quickly throw their way when they do decide to take their human shape for a spin. Atsumu has finally stopped whining about not being allowed to sleep in your bed with you anymore after Kita had put him in his place and your face goes hot when you remember exactly what had transpired during that conversation. 

When you had found out they were shifters, you found yourself being a little more self-conscious and self-aware around them. It seemed unbecoming of a woman to be sharing the same bed or changing in front of foxes that turned into handsome men and soon Kita was the only one allowed in your bedroom. Atsumu had howled and complained the first night that Kita slipped into your bed next to you, demanding to also be let in, questioning why Kita was allowed to sleep with you, especially in his human form. And suddenly feeling like a parent who suddenly has to explain the birds and the bees to their child, you grow flustered, unsure how to broach the subject. But sensing your panic, a large hand gently grabbed your chin, turning you until you were facing the serious countenance that you’d come to love, and in front of the still wailing younger man, he had captured your lips in a searing kiss before pointedly looking at a suddenly silent Atsumu. 

“That’s why,” he had calmly said, but before he could even fully voice those two words, Atsumu had quickly retreated, closing the door behind him and leaving the two of you alone. 

The two of you had skirted around directly talking about what was going on between the two of you, but that kiss had officially sealed the deal and you both stay up late that night, talking about your future life together, as his mate, as your boyfriend and it seems like unsurprisingly, Atsumu has run his mouth off and the whole pack is there waiting to congratulate you two on finally getting together the next morning. 

And now here you are, living in a recently expanded cabin, loud and full of bodies, both furry and human. You take a sip of your coffee, rolling your eyes as you hear the twins bicker, a slight smile on your face when you see Aran and Suna in their fox forms, napping on the couch, the others sprawled out here and there as they cook and eat breakfast. But it’s the strong arms that wrap around your waist from behind, the mouth stealing a sip from your piping hot mug before burying his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder that makes your heart flutter and you turn to kiss Kita, melting into his hold as you both survey your new family, your new home.   

[alexandria-is-my-firstname]

Never got the time to talk about Franz Kafka's The Metamorphosis comic i made months ago, but here we are,,,

The comic was supposed to be a one-shot but didn't got to be completed due to me being occupied with other one-shots, specifically Fulfilment and Sir Melion (will talk about it after this). So, The Metamorphosis comic sets in around the 2010s and the day before Gregor Samsa became a vermin, i wanted to show further of Gregor's life when he was still human - having the ability to move as he wishes, can talk, loved by his family (specifically Mrs. Samsa and Grete) and physically showing his stress over being a travelling salesman,,,

The one-shot would go from Gregor waking up in a panic, taking a taxi to the train station, having a nightmare during his sleep in the train, taking home a magazine (replacing the furred-coat lady poster), hugged by Grete once he's home (as well Mrs. Samsa neating Gregor's hair), an awkward dinner with Mr. Samsa, a phone call that interrupted the family dinner, Gregor feeling angered that he must work again by tommorow, sleeping his anger away,,,

And alas,,,

Gregor wakes up from a weird tinggling on his face, enters the bathroom, and boom! He sees labiums around his mouth,,,

I planned Gregor's transformation to be slow, paralleling to his impending depression and the deteriorating connection between him and his family,,,

The one-shot also had a planned continuation, where Gregor struggles to hide his insectoid features, Gregor getting caught by the family (the chief noped himself out of the house, finds a nearby bar and drinking away what he saw), Gregor being put on lockdown, Mrs. Samsa wanting to help Gregor only for her asthma get the best of her, Mr. Samsa being a jerk around Gregor, Grete being determined to help Gregor to slowly resenting him,,, i mean, it's quite the same as the novella, but,,,

What kept Gregor's humanity wasn't just the magazine containing a hottie in fur coat, it was also Gregor's phone that contained pictures of his family,,, and his old human life, where everything were happy memories,,,

Bonus, Gregor befriends bunch of insects, kinda like Cinderella and her mices,,,

And the twist, Gregor isn't the only one becoming a vermin, some people had their own transformations,,,

There was a considering scene where one of Gregor's insects spy on some neighbours and one of the neighbours was a woman in the form of a praying mantis - her arms all sharpened and "devouring" a man. Beside that, the old grey lady who became Gregor's last caretaker mentioned having a husband once, sadly, her husband suffered something wrong and became a moth. I just thought the transformation of becoming a vermin is a sort of demon that needed to be handled yet some people had lost to it.

A lot of stuff i wished i could do with the story but i don't think i have the energy nor' available hands to continue the Metamorphosis. Hopefully, you're intrigued by my writings, ideas and illustration of the Metamorphosis. Have a good day!

[cyberrat]

52nd Batch Of Fics: 8th Fill

McCree/Hanzo – Minotaur AU – Part 15 – bonding – Their little outing comes to an end and they get out of it as a much tighter knit unit than before.

---

As the light filtering through the canopy begins to turn orange and they still are on a lazy trot away from the estate, Jesse wonders aloud: “Not that I am complainin’ about the new scenery or anythin’... but don’t you have to be back at some point?”

“I do. But not so soon.” He curls the lead around his fist, shorting the slack.

Jesse huffs amused and keeps trotting next to the horse’s hind quarters. He can tell that Hanzo is avoiding going back at this point. He doesn’t mind. It is really nice to stretch his muscles after such a long time and feel the wind brushing over his fine coat.

It is a pretty… nice day out with the pretty little thing. He can’t complain.

.o.

They make rest at a small lake and Hanzo is treated to the sight of Jesse taking off his little slip of fabric to wash it in the clear waters while also treading into them himself.

He stays well outside the splash radius and tries to keep a straight face while having an unhindered view of the minotaur for once.

Jesse is… impressive. And beautiful. There is no way for Hanzo to deny it.

The irregular colored spots of his fur are accentuating the thick muscle underneath.

As the minotaur moves about, twisting this way and that way, not caring about his nakedness, Hanzo is treated to the sight of his large cock, resting for once but not less impressive. It looks like a weapon that could cleave Hanzo in half.

He presses his hands against his abdomen. He… really wants that.

Feeling his cheeks heating up, he turns his head away, staring into the forest getting darker and darker. He’s taken off Jesse’s halter, the lead curled up against it like a snake.

There is nothing keeping him tethered to Hanzo any longer. He could just run off and be free; there is little Hanzo could do about it – and yet he is here, bathing like a calf and enjoying the water sluicing off his body whenever he stands back up from a dip up to his shoulders.

What an absolutely extraordinary creature.

.o.

Jesse stretches out in the grass. The weather is warm enough to dry his coat even with the sun barely even peeking over the round tops of the trees anymore.

The horse has wandered off to the other side of the clearing, just as unburdened as Jesse is. All the tack is lying off to the side, Hanzo leaning against the saddle and sitting on the pad that had rested underneath it on the animal’s back.

While Jesse had bathed, the little morsel had put up a small fire for them. He has no idea how he did it, but he is suitably impressed by the skill. He is not ignorant enough to think that he has any grasp on what Hanzo is truly capable of. He had been able to see glimpses of it when he killed one of his men – no, not one of his – in cold blood for touching Jesse, and more of it when he’s shown off his skill with a bow.

Jesse still is…. very fascinated with the gun he’s seen the other day. It is a shame that these things are too small for his thick fingers.

In any case – as beautiful as Hanzo is, he is… deadly. He would do good not to forget this as he keeps enjoying his company.

It doesn’t mean that it isn’t amusing to tease the little thing.

“Well, then. You have not told me yet.”

Hanzo looks up from the warm flames and glances at Jesse, his smooth forehead creasing with a frown.

“What are you talking about? You have not asked me a thing.”

Jesse leans over the fire until he can feel the flames licking dangerously close to his fur, his ears flicking playfully.

“I am talking about what you think about it. Is it good enough for you?” To illustrate, he grasps his cock, easily lifting it from its rest against his thigh.

Hanzo’s gaze jerks down briefly before he quickly looks away again. His face becomes a lot hotter than the flames have been able to produce yet… but instead of scurrying away shyly as Jesse had thought he might do, he suddenly looks back, meeting his gaze dead on.

“It might be. I have not finalized my decision yet.”

Jesse grunts in surprise and leans away from the flames.

.o.

Hanzo can tell that he’s finally caught Jesse off-guard. Whatever the minotaur had thought he might say or do… this had obviously not been it.

He allows himself a smug grin, looking away and toward his horse just to make sure that it is still grazing at the edge of the tiny clearing. It feels good to finally have the upper hand. He should not be ashamed of his… desires. Especially since Jesse obviously is reciprocating them.

Maybe it is but a way for him to blow off steam, or something he has grown accustomed to after having been in his brother’s possession for the first few weeks – but Hanzo likes to think that Jesse is honestly interested in him.

It does give him quite the ego boost.

Jesse’s quiet is an obvious concession to how Hanzo has won this round deftly.

He wonders for a moment whether he should try and… flirt… back, but decides against it. It might be better to keep Jesse stewing and mulling this over instead of being all too on-the-nose about the fact that he has been thinking of the minotaur for a while now whenever he took himself in hand.

Their little tet-a-tetes are more then telling, are they not? Hanzo’s chest feels filled with something warm and fuzzy. He wants to curl up into a ball but instead makes himself stretch out and just feel himself.

Things could be pretty good if there wasn’t the little issue with the traitors at home. They’ll get that over and dealt with, too, just as they have every other obstacle that ever came in their way.

He is… excited to start focusing his full attention on Jesse. He is a surprisingly good companion.

.o.

Hanzo produces a lantern from somewhere which he offers to Jesse as he gets his horse ready once more to ride back home after all. In Jesse’s estimation they won’t be back there until the wee hours of the morning, but he does not comment on the decision.

He leans down to let Hanzo put the halter around his head once more. As he comes close to him, he inhales his scent deeply, not bothering to be sneaky about it.

The little morsel always smells so delicious… He really wants to have him. All of him.

He watches Hanzo up close as he is, nearly eye-to-eye as his halter is being closed gently, loose enough to easily slip over his head had his horns not been in the way. It feels like an admission of trust by Hanzo.

Jesse exhales in a soft huff that ruffles the tiny hairs falling into Hanzo’s face. He leans forward and briefly puts his broad nose against the human’s forehead before he stands up again to his full height, holding the lantern for the both of them as they make their way back toward the estate through the dark forest.

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Secrets in the Moonlight

After the disappearance of his uncle, coming back to Hogwarts is harder than Derek could have imagined. Especially now that he has a secret.

 For @overthetopobsessed​

  “Mr Hale?”

Derek shook himself from his thoughts, straightening in his seat and looking up with wide, alert eyes.

Mr Harris stared at him with the same cold, unyielding glare he always wore, but his voice held a note of irritation—bordering anger.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Derek apologised quietly.

There was a quiet buzz of whispers around the room.

“Can you tell me the difference between a werewolf and an Animagus?” Harris repeated the question.

“No, sir,” Derek replied.

Mr Harris opened his mouth to lecture Derek when a voice called out from the back of the classroom, interrupting him.

“An Animagus is a witch or wizard who can take the form of an animal and return back to their human form at any time and of their won free will, whereas a werewolf – or any were-creature for that matter – changes form against their will based on the lunar cycle.”

Derek glanced over his shoulder at the boy who had answered.

Stiles Stilinski.

The boy met Harris’ gaze defiantly, a smug smile – a common trait among Slytherins – turning up the corners of his mouth. His dark brown irises glimmered with amusement at the professor’s stunned silence. His eyes shifted to Derek, his gaze softening and his smugness fading as a friendly smile played across his lips.

“Correct, Mr Stilinski,” Harris said, his voice tense—as if saying those words pained him. “Although, next time, I would appreciate it if you showed some degree of manners and respect and raised your hand before answering.”

“Sorry, sir,” Stiles replied, but his voice was dry and everyone knew he didn’t mean it.

Harris screwed up his face bitterly, drawing in a measured breath as he held his composure. “As for you, Mr Hale—”

Derek turned back around to look at the professor as Harris took a step closer and stood at the corner of Derek’s desk.

“—leave the day dreaming for outside my classroom and don’t come to class unprepared, understood?”

Derek swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and bowed his head guiltily.

“Yes, sir,” Derek answered meekly.

“Very good.” Harris let out a huff before turning sharply and strutting back to the front of the classroom and continuing the lesson.

Derek waited for a second before glancing over his shoulder.

Stiles met his gaze. Derek didn’t have to say ‘thank you’; Stiles could read it in his eyes and winked mischievously in response.

Derek turned back to face the front of the class, his heart skipping a beat and a soft rosy blush colouring his cheeks, but the feeling didn’t last long.

He looked down at the text book that lay on the desk before him, the pages open to the monstrous illustration of a werewolf. It didn’t look remotely human: its limbs were elongated and its body hunched over. It was covered in fur with the bony nubs of its spine sticking out rigidly. Its arms hung by its side, hands flexed to reveal its sharp claws. The face had been elongated into a snout, the creature snarling and bearing its jagged teeth. But what stood out the most was the bright red ink that had been used to colour in the creature’s irises, giving it the illusion of glowing red eyes that stared at Derek, making his heart fill with dread and terror.

Below the illustration, bold black letters spelt out ‘LYCANTROPY: WEREWOLF’.

Derek swallowed hard against the bile that rose into his throat, burning at his insides. A wave of anxiety and fear clutched his heart. Unease settled in his gut as he dropped his gaze—unable to look at the picture and not wanting to look up in case someone saw the fear in his eyes.

 ------------------------------------------------

 “What’s this I hear about you getting in trouble with Harris?” Laura asked as she caught up with her brother and walked alongside him through the crowded hallway.

Derek looked at her. She was as radiant as ever; her long brown hair cascading past her shoulder and the bold navy blue of her Ravenclaw tie bringing out the sparkle in her dark eyes.

They used to joke about needing a fourth sibling since the three Hale siblings were sorted into different houses: Laura into Ravenclaw, Derek into Hufflepuff, and Cora into Slytherin. All they needed was a Gryffindor and they had a full house.

“I wasn’t in trouble,” Derek replied. “I just didn’t hear him ask me the question.”

Laura tilted her head slightly as she looked at her brother sceptically. There was a glimmer of worry in her dark eyes.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” she said, trying to gently coax the truth from him.

“I know,” Derek replied, trying to reassure her.

It didn’t work.

She kept her gaze fixed on him.

“I’m fine,” Derek insisted.

“If you say so,” Laura said quietly, backing down; she still didn’t believe him, but she knew him better than to keep prying—Derek would only shut down if she did.

Derek drew in a deep breath.

“I’m fine,” he reassured her. “I’ll see you at the quidditch game.”

“Who are you cheering for?” Laura asked—calling after her brother as he began to walk away.

Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff.

And his big sister was Ravenclaw’s star player.

“You,” Derek answered. “Like I always do.”

Laura offered him a sweet smile, but it fell from her face as her brother turned his back and disappeared into the sea of people. The worry still lingered in her eyes as she watched him leave.

 ------------------------------------------------

 The library was a large space filled with towering shelves full of old hardcover books, leather bound journals and other books that looked like antiques, all bound in magnificent colours of scarlet, burgundy, deep green, gold, and grey. The spines of the books were decorated by gold or silver lettering that read the titles, adorned with small metal studs and a few were even fastened with small hinges that looked to be made of brass or silver.

The shelves covered all the walls, large ladders on casters were scattered about the room where the occupants had last left them. Higher up, there was a small platform that stretched around the room, a mezzanine that allowed them to access another storey of bookshelves that the ladders couldn't reach. High above everything was a dome-like sky light, the slightly misted glass allowing the golden light of day to drift into the large library and illuminate the shadowed space.

Several books moved on their own, returning to the shelves and sorting themselves into the right places.

On the far side of the room was a small fireplace with a marble mantelpiece. Atop the mantelpiece sat a few of the sturdier-looking books, some candles and a vase of flowers that never seemed to wilt—probably because the librarian hexed them. Before the fireplace sat two arm chairs and a larger couch, each made of beige fabric that were covered in a faded floral pattern. Two Gryffindor students sat on the rug before the fireplace with their books sprawled out in front of them as they talked quietly.

Derek sat on his own among the rows of tables and chairs set up for students to study.

The library was quiet, which was both a blessing and a curse: it was a place where Derek could get away from all the noise and chaos, but it also meant he was left alone with his thoughts.

He tried to drown them out, focusing on his homework.

A stack of textbooks were piled up beside him, several more lying open on the desk before him as his quill scratched at the paper of his notebooks, leaving elegant scrawls of ink in its wake.

“This seat taken?” a familiar voice asked.

Derek glanced up, his aventurine eyes meeting the smoky quarts depths.

“Uh, no,” Derek stammered. He gestured to the seat. “Please.”

Stiles set his books down on the table and pulled out the chair across from Derek. He sat down and opened up his books.

Derek bowed his head and glanced up through his eyelashes, watching as Stiles’ dark eyes danced across the pages as he read the lines of text.

“I didn’t get the chance to say thank you for this morning,” Derek said.

“No need. Harris is an ass and you didn’t deserve that.”

Stiles glanced up at Derek, offering him a friendly smile.

Derek smiled in return.

He wasn’t like the other Slytherins that Derek knew—he wasn’t obnoxious, prideful, arrogant or snarky. Maybe that was because he wasn’t a pureblood like most of the others; his mother was a witch, but his father was a muggle—a police officer, apparently. Stiles had grown up in the muggle world, far away from magic. He tried to make up for it—working twice as hard to prove he had what it took to be there, but he didn’t need to; he was smarter and more powerful than any other student. His only weakness was he was powerful, but he had no idea how to control it.

The hiss of whispers reached his ears. Derek turned his head slightly to see two students glance at him before turning away and gossiping.

“Ignore them,” Stiles said softly.

Derek turned back to his text book, feeling his chest tighten and his heart hammer against his ribs.

“They’re talking about my uncle, aren’t they?” Derek asked.

“Most likely,” Stiles replied.

Peter Hale was well known in the wizarding world, but he disappeared the week before Derek and his sisters went on break. No Aurors had been able to track him down and many believed he was dead. When the Hale siblings returned to Hogwarts, everyone looked the other way or talked behind their backs. The whispers followed Derek everywhere.

Derek looked up at Stiles. “Thank you.”

Stiles lifted his head, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “What for?”

“For not treating me different.”

The corner of Stiles’ lips turned up in a kind smile.

Derek bowed his head, trying to focus on his homework, but his mind kept going back to the monstrous illustration.

“You know a lot about werewolves,” Derek remarked, unsure of how to start the conversation.

“I guess so,” Stiles said modestly. “I tend to take in a whole lot of information—most of it is useless.”

“Is it possible for a werewolf to become an Animagus?”

Stiles sat back in his seat, thinking it over for a second. “I don’t know for sure, but I did read something about a werewolf gaining control of their shifts by defying their alpha. But that either means defeating them or finding an anchor strong enough to keep your humanity in control of you psyche.”

“An anchor?”

“An anchor is something meaningful to you; you bind yourself to it to keep your human side in control,” Stiles explained.  “It can be a memory, a person, a place or an object—it just has to mean something to you. At least that’s what I read about Animagi Transfiguration, so I guess it would be something similar in the case of a werewolf controlling their transformation.”

Derek nodded thoughtfully.

“A werewolf becoming an Animagus is extremely rare and probably very difficult,” Stiles continued. “But I don’t think it’s impossible.”

Derek felt the tension in his gut ease, letting out a sigh of relief as hope found its way back into his heart.

 ------------------------------------------------

He felt the burn of power flow through his veins, setting his nerves on fire as the lure of the moon hummed ignited his senses.

He made his way out of the castle, sneaking out through the passage his uncle had told him about back in his first year—the one Peter had found during his time at Hogwarts. The cool night air met him, offering little relief to the searing heat that flooded his veins.

Beads of sweat gathered on his brow, soaking through his shirt and making the fabric cling to his skin.

His breathing grew heavy as he staggered towards the shelter of the forest that bordered the school.

A piercing howl rang out through the night, making Derek’s heart leap in his chest.

There was a sharp rush of air as a figure appeared before him. His dark hair a tousled mess and his clothing dishevelled. He clutched his fir wand, the pale wood standing out against the darkness.

“Stiles?” Derek rasped, feeling fear clutch his heart. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know,” Stiles replied. “I nearly got caught sneaking out of the dorms. I was trying to get to the Gryffindor dorms; seems like I missed the mark.”

Stiles froze, his eyes widening as he looked at Derek.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice edged with worry. “You don’t look too good.”

“It’s not safe out here.”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked, his voice catching in his throat as hesitation and anxiety filled his chest.

“You have to go.”

“Derek, you’re starting to scare me.”

Derek opened his mouth to say something but his words caught in his throat as a low growl echoed from the shadows.

Stiles wheeled around, his eyes wide and his heart hammering in his chest.

The bushes rustled, clumps of leaves and low hanging branches crackling, shaking and breaking as a big black shadow slinked into the open, broad feet thumping the ground. Their claws dug into the mud, upturning the dirt and releasing the sweet earthy scent.

A pair of glowing red eyes emerged from the shadows, the thin veil of moonlight illuminating the creature’s figure as it stalked forward. The creature rose up onto its hind feet. Its large form was unhuman; standing tall on curved, slender legs. The bright red eyes were set above an elongated snout. Long arms hung at its side, disfigured hands – hairy like a wolf’s paws – stretched, thick, curved claws lit by the bleeding streams of moonlight.

Stiles froze, eyes wide.

It snarled, baring its ivory teeth as it focused its glare on Stiles.

Stiles staggered back slightly, his mind screaming at him to run but he couldn’t move; his body was frozen in place.

“Derek?” he rasped, glancing over his shoulder.

The clouds parted, exposing the moon.

Derek winced, doubling over in pain.

“Derek?” Stiles called, alarmed.

Derek’s eyes flew open, his pale adventuring irises glowing crimson.

“Run,” he growled.

Stiles flailed about, stumbling backwards. His feet pedalled beneath him. He lost his footing on the uneven ground, falling against the damp earth. He turned, using a hand to steady himself as he leapt to his feet and tore into the darkness.

He ran along the tree line, glancing over his shoulder as he saw a dark figure charge towards him.

He sprinted through the dense forest, weaving his way through the labyrinth of thick tree trunks. He sprung over the fallen trees, broken branches and thick shrubs, his nimble legs and spring-locked ankles projecting him over the large logs. The thick undergrowth and claw-like twigs dragged at his feet. He tried to keep himself upright, struggling not to stumble or trip as he sprinted away from the massacre.

The sounds of low growls and spine-chilling howls drained away, disappearing behind him as he ran further and further into the dense forest.

He took a sharp turn, heading back towards the castle grounds. He broke through the tree line, slowing his pace as he neared the Whomping Willow. He turned, running on the spot as he looked back at the forest—checking to see if anyone – or anything – had followed him.

He let out a sigh of relief, letting his nerves calm. He drew in heavy breaths, trying to slow his breathing.

Stiles was tackled to the ground, letting out a pained wheeze as the air was knocked from his lungs. His eyes flew open wide, looking up at the glowing red irises of the werewolf.

He thrashed about, letting out a vicious animalistic cry as he tried to fight the creature off.

The werewolf pinned him to the ground, sharp rocks tearing open Stiles’ pale skin as the werewolf pushed them against the ground. Stiles felt a sharp wave of pain flood his arms, his bones near breaking.

Then, all of a sudden, the weight was gone.

There was a rush of air as the second werewolf tacked the alpha off of him, knocking him to the ground and fighting him.

Stiles rolled onto his side, scrambling to his feet and sprinting towards the swaying branches of the Whomping Willow. He dodged past the branches that swung at him, the thick wood hitting the earth with a heavy crash that snapped off twigs, shook the earth, and sent dirt flying through the air.

Stiles dove towards the trunk, something catching his eye. Among the twisted aged wood of the tree was an ancient door.

Stiles pulled open the small door that was built into the base of the tree. He pulled the ricket wooden door shut behind himself, staring at it for a second before slowly backing up.

He made his way down the flight of rickety stairs, following them into a large room. The windows were all boarded up, the moonlight bleeding through the thin gaps enough for Stiles to see.

He drew in steady breaths, calming himself as he looked around. The wind that blew past the windows echoed like screams as it rattled the glass and a draught blew through the warped wooden walls.

“Shrieking Shack,” Stiles muttered.

The wooden panelling of the doors were broken in, some doors lying off their hinges. The walls had patches of plaster missing, exposing the wooden framing beneath. The decorative wallpaper was peeling off the walls, the wooden floorboards warped, worn down with time and covered in stains. Every piece of furniture was moth-eaten and broken—as though someone has smashed it in a fit of rage.

There was a thin layer of dust over everything.

He stepped through one of the other doors, looking down the old staircase and into the foyer of the Shack. There was an old chair that had one of its legs ripped off.

He stepped back into the room. Beside him was an old four post bed, the wooden base snapped in half and the frame that had once held up the canopy had fallen down.

He edged over to the bed, lowering himself into the shadows that dwelled in the corner where the bed met the wall. He shrunk down into the darkness, pulling his knees up to his chest.

He waited.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, stopping him from falling asleep, but his eyes grew heavy as he stared at the warped hardwood floors.

The light of dawn began to creep through the cracks in the boarded-up windows.

There was a loud crash as someone came sprinting down the stairs that lead up to the Whomping Willow.

Stiles’ heart leapt into his chest. He shifted, crouching behind the bed as he readied himself to run.

“Stiles?” a familiar voice called out.

Derek stumbled into the room, his shoulders heaving with heavy breaths as he frantically looked around the dark, decrepit interior of the Shrieking Shack.

Stiles shifted slightly, rising to his feet and stepping out from behind the bed.

Derek let out a sigh of relief. “Are you okay?”

Stiles tightened his grip on his wand, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. His voice was quiet and raspy, but firm as he said, “Explain. Now.”

Derek dropped his gaze. “When my uncle went missing a few weeks ago, I stupidly thought I was the only person who could find him. I ran away from home to go look for him. A few hours after walking through the woods behind my family’s estate, I was attacked. It was a rogue werewolf.”

“One that holds its shape,” Stiles confirmed.

Derek nodded.

He fell silent for a minute, feeling his chest tighten and his gut twist in knots.

“It bit me,” he admitted.

“You’re a werewolf,” Stiles said. A thought struck him, a look of realisation washing over his face. “That’s why you asked whether a werewolf could become an Animagus.”

Derek nodded.

“And the, uh—the other werewolf. Was that the rogue that bit you?”

Derek nodded again.

“I’m so sorry… I never meant to put you in danger,” Derek said, his voice breaking and full of pain.

“You didn’t put me in danger,” Stiles replied. “I just have a tendency to stumble right into it.”

“Are you hurt?” Derek asked, his voice full of concern.

Stiles looked down at himself, his pale flesh was caked in mud and covered in bloody welts where sticks and stones had scratched open his skin.

“Just a few bumps and bruises,” Stiles said dismissively. “Nothing too bad. How about you?”

Derek seemed taken back by the question.

“I—I’m fine,” he said. He glanced down at his arms, the tan flesh marred by dark bruises and faint pink lines where thick gashes were stitching themselves back together. “Werewolves heal quickly.”

Derek glanced back over his shoulder, up the stairs at the door that lead back outside.

“We should gat back,” he said. “Everyone will be waking up soon.”

Stiles nodded, slowly edging towards Derek.

Derek took no offence to Stiles’ hesitation; he was surprised that he trusted him at all. He led the way up the stairs and pushed open the rickety door at the base of the Whomping Willow. He squinted slightly as he stepped out of the cool shadows and into the world lit by the golden glow of the morning light. He looked up at the thrashing branches, feeling his chest tighten anxiously.

Stiles stepped up to Derek’s side, both of them keeping their back pressed against the thick tree trunk. He held his wand out.

“Immobulus.”

The branches stilled, frozen mid-action.

Stiles drew in a measured breath and took a step forward, and then another, making his way across the divots and dirt holes that covered the ground beneath the Willow.

He and Derek made their way back across the open field and up to the gates of Hogwarts, where Mr Harris stood, his arms crossed over his chest and his cold eyes staring down at the boys. Beside him stood Coach Finstock, his dark unkempt hair sticking up at all angles.

“Mr Stilinski, I expect this kind of behaviour from you, but Mr Hale – I must admit – I am surprised to see you,” Harris said, his voice cold.

“Everyone’s looking for the two of you,” Coach added. “I hope you have a good explanation for this.”

Derek bowed his head, his stomach twisting in knots as a sickening wave of bile rose into his throat. This was it; he’d be exposed and sent to Azkaban.

“I was helping Derek study,” Stiles lied. “We nearly got caught outside of the dorms after lights out and we panicked, so we apparated and ended up outside where we were attacked by a werewolf.”

Derek blinked in surprise, glancing out the corner of his eye at Stiles.

Harris looked at him, his face deadpan with disbelief. “A werewolf?”

Stiles met his gaze defiantly.

“A werewolf,” he said firmly. “We were chased into the Shrieking Shack and hid there until the sun came up.”

“That’s quite the fanciful story, Mr Stilinski.”

“It’s the truth,” Stiles insisted.

Harris opened his mouth to say something but Coach Finstock held up his hand, interrupting them.

“We’ll decide what to do with the two of you later, for now go back to your dorm rooms and clean yourselves up,” Coach instructed. He turned to Mr Harris. “Why don’t you go tell the others that we’ve found them.”

Harris let out a measured breath and turned sharply, storming off down the hall.

Stiles and Derek turned the other way and began to head down the hall.

“Mr Hale, a moment,” Coach called after him.

Derek stopped, glancing at Stiles before turning back to Coach.

Coach lowered his voice. “I know things have been tough for you since your uncle went missing, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to start acting recklessly and breaking the rules. It’s not going to change anything.”

Derek bowed his head.

“Your sisters were worried sick when they found out you were missing,” Coach continued. “I know things are hard for you, but you’re not alone; think about them.”

Derek nodded.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Coach said. He gently patted Derek on the shoulder “Now, go get yourself cleaned up.”

Derek nodded again, turning and making his way down the halls. He made his way to the shifting staircases, the buzz of chatter reaching his ears. He glanced up to see crowds of students gathered on the stairs and the landings, staring at the walls and talking quietly.

Among the crowd he spotted a familiar face.

“Cora,” he called out, hurrying over to his sister’s side.

“Where the hell have you been?” Cora growled.

“It’s a long story,” Derek dismissed. “What’s going on?”

“The paintings,” Cora said.

The crowd parted and Derek saw what she meant. The paintings that hung on the walls were destroyed—the canvases were slashed, the frames broken or hanging crooked, and the living portraits injured and cowering in fear.

“What happened?”

“The paintings say some kind of wolf tore through the castle,” Cora replied.

Derek’s heart sank into his gut.

“A wolf?” Derek repeated, his voice catching in his throat.

His eyes followed the trail of destruction, a path winding around the walls and leading up to the higher flights of stairs—to the Slytherin dorms.

“Stiles.”

 ------------------------------------------------

 Stiles dragged his feet across the smooth wooden floorboards of the dorm room. His eyes were heavy and his movements slow and lethargic as he shrugged off the mod-stained hoodie that he wore. He tossed it over the end of his bed, stepping over to his trunk and pulling out his uniform.

The sound of footsteps reached his ears. His brow furrowed slightly in confusion; no one else should be in the dorms.

He turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder to see who was there. His heart dropped.

He barely caught a glimpse of the alpha’s glowing red eyes before he lunged at Stiles.

Stiles dove aside, reaching for his wand, but the werewolf tackled him to the ground. He thrashed around, his elbow colliding with the creature’s jaw as he tried to fight back or break free.

The werewolf pinned him to the floor, pressing their weight against the teen’s wrists until his frail bones threatened to break. The alpha’s jagged talons tore through the pale skin of Stiles’ arm. The bitter metallic smell filled Stiles’ nose as streams of blood coursed across his skin, the searing pain igniting every nerve in his body and flooding his veins.

Stiles cried out in pain.

The alpha let out a low growl, his teeth bared in a vicious snarl as he leant in closer.

Stiles felt the heat of the creature’s breath against his skin, squeezing his eyes shut as tears fell from his eyes.

He let out a broken sob.

There was another growl, one more fierce than the alpha’s low, threatening rumble.

Stiles hesitantly opened his eyes to see the alpha tackled off of him. He turned his head to see Derek thrown back.

Derek let out a stifled grunt as he hit the solid wooden frame of one of the beds. He bared his teeth in a vicious snarl, his eyes burning with rage as he charged at the alpha.

He slashed at him blocking his bows and fighting back as he put himself between the alpha and Stiles; protecting him.

The alpha snapped and snarled, his claws tearing at Derek’s clothes and clawing open his skin.

Streams of red stained Derek’s skin, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He fought back, but the alpha was too strong for him.

The alpha threw Derek back against the far wall. His head slammed against the rough bricks, bursts of light and colour blinding him as he dropped to his hands and knees.

The alpha grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off his feet.

Derek let out a strangled breath, kicking out as he tried to free himself.

The alpha’s grip didn’t waver.

The crimson glow of the creature’s eyes was full of bloodlust as he raised his arm, flexing his claws; ready to kill Derek.

The alpha froze, his body stiffening.

His grip weakened.

Derek fell to the floor, coughing, sputtering, and gasping for breath.

The alpha collapsed, hitting the ground with a solid thud.

Derek looked across the room to see Stiles, half slouched against his bed with his other arm outstretched and his wand in his hand.

Stiles slowly lowered his wand, his shoulder rising and falling with heavy breaths.

There was a thundering crash as the door to the dorms was thrown open.

Harris and Coach rushed into the room, skidding to a halt as they looked around the room.

Harris’ eyes fell on the werewolf, growing wide.

“Quite the fanciful story, huh?” Stiles said bitterly between broken breaths.

Harris shook himself from his stupor, straightening as he looked between the two boys. “Let’s get you two to the infirmary.”

Derek sluggishly pushed himself upright, bracing himself on the wall and he rose to his feet. He staggered across the dorm room, holding his hand out to Stiles and helping him to his feet.

A crowd od students gathered behind Harris, craning their necks to look in through the doorway.

A small figure shoved her way through the crowd, pushing past Harris and into the room despite his objections. She rushed across the room, throwing herself into her brother’s arms.

Derek let out a small sigh, wrapping his arms around Cora’s narrow shoulders and holding her tight.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m okay.”

“Oh my God,” Coach uttered, his quiet voice catching their attention.

Cora stepped back. Derek and Stiles turned, following Coach’s gaze to where the alpha lay on the floor, shifting back to his human form.

Coach grabbed a blanket from one of the beds, draping it across the man’s body.

Derek couldn’t take his eyes of the man.

The slender body lay bare on the ground, his fair skin covered in pale white scars. His chest slowly rose and fell with even breaths. Black ink stood out on the underside of his forearm, the Slytherin crest tattooed into his skin and a bold black triskelion on his wrist. His light brown hair was streaked with grey and longer than Derek remembered, but the man’s weary face was the same as always.

Derek’s heart stopped.

“Peter.”

[0livec0w]

Fiinally sketched out my WoF headcanon tribe designs! I’m still working on Nightwings. h

Notes on their designs under the cut!

Mudwings: They have very bovine type faces and bodies. They're basically big cow-crocodiles.They have leathery scales like a crocodile and BIG THICK bodies and tailsI like to imagine that Mudwings have the most variety in horn shapes and number.You can have little bun horns to great pronged antlers. Any shape and size. I also imagine that their coloring is a bit splotchy and that its common for plants to grow on them.Some even plant seeds to get pretty flowers to grow on them since they're always caked in mud. They have droopy ears that lay flat on the top of the mud when they take naps. Icewings: Icewings are like arctic porcupines.Spikes EVERYWHERE.That's pretty much it for their design. SPikes. A lot of them are serrated too. They also don't have "real" teeth?I just kinda draw em with external teeth idk.

Nightwings: I think Nightwings are the hardest to design. I'm not all that happy w this particular design but I'm working on it.Nightwings have bat noses and straight rOUnd horns. All of their body is pretty round. Their scales are iridescent and very reflective and cold to the touch.They feel like they're made of shiny rocks. I don't like how light the canon design makes their underbelly. I like to imagine that instead, they have the same star patterns that they have on the bottoms of their wings.Nightwings with powers get cool white markings on their scales. All Nightwings eyes glow. Ones with powers glow more than others.

Skywings: They have very tall vertical ears and horns. They're just tall in general. They just pointy. Very pointy.They look the most like what I would consider a "regular dragon"Their wings are slightly transparent and are the thinnest and largest of all the tribes.

Rainwings: Rainwings are a real eyesore.They are constantly saturated to the mAX.They look like poison dart frogs on acid. I like to imagine that their horns and claws are very thorny and sharp.Their frills are sharp too. Rainwings are sharp and colorful.They have HUGE eyes with fun shaped pupils.I cram as many frills on their face as I can.They normally gave a base dark color and then 3-4 neon-y colors overtop it.If they want to, they can strobe their colors and give everyone a headache.They're the smallest and skinniest tribe. They have the longest tails of all the tribes. It just doesn't look that way bc they're always coiled up.All of their horns, claws, and spikes are needle thin.Some Rainwings are born with exceptionally strong venom and have it leak through their skin like a dart frog. Silkwings: FLUFFY, BABYI don't know why tf the books didnt make em fluffy.I don't like thinking that the silk just pops out of their wrist. Makes me feel weird.Instead I imagine it kinda magical like a fire wizard spawning fire in his hand except more wispy. I gotta illustrate it sometime.Their wings look like butterfly wings except a little more layered on top of each other and they have wing joints. A lot also have wings with that one bit that dips down further than the rest of the wing (just bc I think it looks cool) They are any color of the rainbow, just a very pastel shade.They have plenty of patterns in their fur and a poof at the end of their tail.They have kinda paw-like hands. They look like total wimps.

Sandwings: Tattoos are a big thing among Sandwings. They get SO MANY. Entire sleeves and body art are common.They also wear hella jewelry and clothes.Their manes/ frills come in all shapes and sizes and can almost be styled like our hair.They can grow out frills to a few feet. (like shoulder length for humans)They have large fangs like Rainwings but their venom isn't nearly as strong.Sandwings tend to have two sets of smaller horns. They have LARGE ears for venting heat. They also have patches of scraggly fur/hair between scales. There are Sandwing skin conditions where some Sandwings are bore entirely covered in hair with no scales.Royal Sandwings have a hood like some snakes do.

Leafwings: Leafwing's frill is actually a double frill that splits in the middle.Their large ears and eyelashes are leaf shaped. Other bits of leaves poke out ever so often on different parts of their bodies.They have leathery skin with a few brighter colored scales every once and a while. Their horns are slightly prehensile and can be moved slightly (with great effort)There is a fan of leaves at the end of their tails.They have large eyes with rectangular pupils. Seawings: Seawings are very squishy and blubbery and fat.They have plenty of little dangly bits all over them that look AWESOME when they're floating around in the water.Their eyes are large and round.They have no horns, only frills and dangLIES.Seawings tails have large fins going along the top and bottom. The tails also flatten out towards the end for easier swimming.The danglies below their chin grow with age.They have the shortest legs of all the tribes and they are the slowest fliers.When a Seawing has been out of water for too long, they get gross and slimy and smell terrible.

Hivewings: Hivewings are very shiny. All of their black scales are incredibly reflective and polished.They are very cold to the touch and have extra thick scales.Their mouths and insides are blue.Their wings are jointed in the middle and clear. They have spines along their bodies. Some Hivewing's spines are venomous. Hivewings have very long retractable claws and nimble hands.They can stand deathly still for long periods of time.