#orias snarls

[coyote-in-the-mirror]

Being autistic and traumatized is wondering why someone is forcing you to do something you don't want to (or can't) do and asking, only to be told you're "talking back" and being punished. What even is talking back? That's how a conversation works!

[dujour13]

OC Kiss Week - day 3

For my friend @the-raging-tempest and your poor, damaged, chaotic evil swan Zrise whom I love so much, unfortunately 💜

Obsessed with that poem you shared:

The knocking finally stops and Zrise’s stomach churns with a bitter mixture of gratitude and dread when he hears the door handle click. He shies away from the blade of light that slices through the gloom of his chamber. He feels like a cornered animal.

He’s locked himself away and hasn’t eaten in two days but the blood meal still buzzes savagely in his veins.

It’s Siavash because of course it’s Siavash. After what happened anyone else would have the sense to stay the fuck away.

Zrise coils. He wants to bullrush him and shove him violently and also to throw his arms around him, and the despair of knowing he’s too much of a coward to do the right thing is strangling.

Siavash shuts the door and whispers an arcane word that kindles a rosy flame in the wall lamp. The shadows retreat to the corners of the cold, stone-walled room. “Zrise? Talk to me.”

“Stay away from me,” he snarls, and yet he advances, fists balled. He’s a knot of hostile muscle.

There’s no sign of alarm in Siavash’s expression. He’s backed against the door and Zrise could break him in half but he only tilts his head, calmly assessing Zrise’s flashing fangs with nothing but gentle confusion.

You fool, Zrise thinks. Run. Call your guards. Cast one of your stupid rainbow spells on me. Just stop standing there looking at me.

But Siavash doesn’t move, so Zrise closes in. This rage sits differently in his chest, rising into what he fears might become a sob or a primal cry of loneliness. He knows what he looks like when he bares his teeth like this; Oria told him enough times. Only Oria thought it was sexy.

And Oria’s dead.

Siavash refuses to shrink back, not even an inch. He’s holding Zrise’s gaze and waiting for something, and Zrise isn’t sure what it is and he doesn’t want to have to hurt him and it’s taking every ounce of strength he has left to try to get him to run, godsdamn it.

Close enough to feel his breath, Zrise’s gaze shrinks away from his unbearable tenderness and lands on his neck, hypnotized by the pulse under the warm skin. Blood that probably tastes like a fucking piña colada. He’s salivating but the thought of piercing that skin makes him want to gag and he reaches up and brushes his fingers over the precious pulse as if to ward off the danger he himself poses to it. The gesture is awkward.

Far too confidently Siavash says, “It’s going to be all right.”

“Sometimes it isn’t. Life isn’t all butterflies and sunshine.”

“I know, Zrise.”

He’s not talking about himself, Zrise realizes. It’s as if he can see right through it all to the wounds underneath—to the ice-cold suffocating pain that has never left his lungs. “Then why don’t you fucking back off? Don’t you know poison when you see it?”

“I’m not scared of you.”

He ought to say you should be but he can’t do that any more than he can bite into that sweet, exposed throat. He hates himself.

The way Siavash holds his gaze is a challenge, one Zrise doesn’t think he’s up to. In despair he surrenders to his own powerlessness, and when at last his lips part, it is not to bite.

It is as if those impossibly warm lips are breathing life into him again—or as if he is stealing the life from them, but he can’t tear himself away. He holds on like a drowning man.

You see how worthless and weak I am. How miserably I failed to do the right thing. You’re going to get hurt.

Stop me.

[danco110]

A deafening chorus of howls from outside shook the walls of the small house. The visiting inquisitor raised his small crossbow in a white-knuckled grip.

“Oria? Are any of your neighbors werewolves, perchance? Or all of them, judging from the volume?”

His host - a short, slight woman - rolled her eyes before replying. “Oh, don’t you worry about them, Delmund. That’s just Kendra and her ‘gang,’ or so they like to call themselves. They’re actually just the town guard, blowing off steam from the rest of the month. They make a lot of noise and run through the streets for the night. They’ll stay outside, though. Don’t you worry.”

“Are you serious?” the man asked incredulously. “Well, how about I do you all a favor, go out there, and shoot those wolves dead? It is my job, after all-”

“You’ll do no such thing!” Oria snarled. “My daughter is out there! I mean, I do wish she’d spend the full moon on her own, or with literally anyone else except Kendra, but that’s no reason for murder!”

Delmund blinked. “Surely you all can’t expect to deal with so many werewolves, right under your noses, can you?”

“We’ve ‘dealt’ with them every full moon since the Travails, and not a soul has died to them yet. I think we’ll manage.”

“Is there a defense effort? Where is the rest of the town guard?”

Oria shrugged. “Sleeping or trying to, I‘d wager. Everyone who lives here knows to stay inside during the full moon, and we make sure to house visitors such as yourself. If Kendra and the others are running through the streets, they’re bound to sniff out anyone skulking about out there. Does that count?”

“Yes, technically speaking,” Delmund grunted in annoyance, “though I’m going to have a word with her tomorrow morning.”

[orianess]

Fanfic Tag game

tagged by @dont-stop-believin-in-klaine, thanks!

Ao3 name: Orianess

Fandoms: currently have only posted for Macgyver but I have vague inkling concepts for a handful others, who knows if I'll ever get to them

# of works: 16

1. fic you spent most time on: thats my wolf Mac/witch doctor Jack story, The Moon Called Me Home to You. Almost to the halfway point on that one but it's had some reshaping along the way and we're getting to the really good stuff soon.

2. Fic spent the least time on: Four Little Words aka the proposal fic.

3. Longest fic: completed, One More Day, roughly 20k words Groundhog Day au. When Wolf story is done, it'll be way longer.

4. Shortest fic: What shall we try next? 600ish words

5: most hits: porny thing, easy like sunday morning

6. Most kudos: Wolf story but behind that is the Easy Like Sunday Morning porn

7. most comments: Wolf again but then the awesome group collab I was so honored to be part of Learning To Fall

8. fave fic: ... Probably Wolf because it's my first long multi chap fic. But One More Day is a close second.

9.fic you want to rewrite/expand: ive got some time stamps planned for both the amputee Mac and the homeless Jack universes, but I want to give those ideas time to incubate a little longer.

10. Share some of a WIP or an idea: my brain is a plot bunny factory so multiple new ideas have been thought up but if they'll ever get written is a bit of a mystery. Here is an opening of a secret OT3 project that I'm largely writing for just myself and @telltaleclerk, but I think you guy will like it anyway.

Mac stares at the waves as they crash against the sand by his feet.

Thunder growls across the dark sky above and the spattering of rain lands soft like the tears that have dried on his cheeks. Lightning snarls between the clouds as a wicked glimpse of forked-tongue light. The ocean is furious today, not unlike him. Untamable. Unrelenting. Waves twice his height rage in the slowly graying light of coming day.

He looks at the surf board tucked under his arm and frowns, considering. He’s a good surfer but he has limits. Some might call it suicide.

But Mac knows if he goes out there into the waves, he’s not going out there to die.

He’s going out there to find out if he’s even still alive. Ever since they told him about Jack, he’s not so sure anymore.

i think everyone has been tagged...: @rai-knightshade, if you haven't already done one?

[kinsbin]

As I Walked Through the Woods

Title: As I Walked Through the Woods Ship: Orais/Alexys/Cyril [Self Insert/OCs] Word Count: 2094

Summary: Alexys, C, and Orais travel back home to Eden’s Gate. When Alexys gets hurt along the way, the two men choose to put aside their differences and make sure to help her. 

A/N: Another comm for @space-sweetheart with my two OCs!!! They’re so in love with her its ridiculous and I hope all three of them stay HAPPY AND GOOD ;3;!!!

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

The forest was quiet. The echo of the group’s footsteps was dramatic against the nothingness and the soft breeze that accompanied their walk. Alexys felt the dry air sting at her lungs as she inhaled, looking up to admire the scenery of the towering pines around her. It smelled like mulch and baking stone, clay under the heat of the morning hardening against the banks of rivers and an endless curl of bark against its treetops. The forest always felt so magical like this, she decided with a quirk of her lips as she admired a little while longer, powerful and old and filled to the brim with secrets she knew it would take to its grave. To be one with this forest would be something unique, she decided. Maybe if she ever died she would be able to be buried here. To let her body mold with the mulch. She imagined roots curling in her bones and sighed shakily, as if she could feel them on her lungs as her shoe dug a little deeper into the earth below her with a smile.

“We’re going the wrong way.”

“No we’re not. We always go this way!”

“No, we always follow the SUN, which is THAT WAY. I’m telling you, it’s WRONG.”

“YOU’RE WRONG!”

The sound of her boyfriend’s arguing behind her boomed across the landscape, subsequently shattering the quiet around them as they yelled their opinions at one another. Alexys took in a deep breath, allowing it to escape from her lips in the form of a sigh as she adjusted the coat on her body and turned around to face the other two with a raised eyebrow painted on her face.

Cyril’s mask was on, his muffled voice displaying only slight frustration behind its normally monotone presence outside of his preaching. Still, Alexys could practically feel the glare radiating from behind it. She had gotten good at reading the assassin. His body language spoke wonders where his words failed and she could tell he was TENSE. The way his shoulders hunched against him, the clutch of his gun between his white knuckles fingertips as he shook in an effort to control himself in front of her was something impressive. Against the side of his scarred cheek that showed itself away from the mask, the muscles of his clenched teeth could be shown. Outlines of bone on pale flesh as he stared forward at the figure in front of him.

Orais had actually decided to wear a shirt today, the tank top riding low and exposing the pale flesh of his torso just a little despite it. A near hour of her begging and gazing up at him with worry had made him finally relent to the outfit of a shirt and pants and combat boots, holstered along his belt with a knife and gun though he didn’t need them. Eden’s Gate made it a point to keep their members armed and manageable at all times. Whether or not Orais was an actual member of the cult or not, however, remained to be seen. Still, though he complained that he didn’t get cold or need to wear anything in defense against the Earth’s natural elements, he did look hot. The tank top defined the lines of his arms as they curved into obvious musculature. She only half missed the impressive set of abs he was hiding underneath his broad form, but the other half knew that he would get tired of the shirt and take it off eventually.

If he didn’t kill C, first.

“Babe, tell him we’re going the right way. I’m right, right?” Orai’s turned his head to face Alexys with an incredulous look plastered across his face. The way he gazed made his scars stretch out, the shift of the disfigured skin a cute wrinkle on his chin as he waved his hand at C, who stared placidly back at him with his hidden expression.

Alexys bit her lip as she looked around the forest. She hated getting involved in their debates too much. Choosing sides was never what she was about in the middle of their relationship. She was an anchor to them (or so they said). A tie to a world that kept them manageable and together despite the fact that they would rather die than travel like this. Choosing a side in any scenario would never make the other rhappy and, thus, she was content to keep her mouth quiet most of the time. This time, however, she felt the words fall from her lips despite herself.

“I think,” She spoke carefully, “We should probably make a camp or something if we’re gonna be out here for the rest of the night. You remember Jacob’s stories about this place, don’t you? We could get eaten… Or eat each other.”

“If we eat each other,” C spoke lightly, “I vote we eat Orais first.”

“Jokes on you,” Orais sneered, “I’d be able to eat you first. That’s the one fucking speciality I might have over you.”

“Oh, so you admit you don’t have any others?”

Orais’ growled, a sound that reverberated against his chest and pulled itself from his throat in the most inhuman way possible. Its noise sent birds fleeing the cover of bushes as they screamed their shocked caws. Animals rustled under the cover of underbrush to run away. It was a momentary cacophony of sounds that sent Alexys whirling in surprise before she stepped back, blinking into the sky around them before her foot caught on something. She gasped as she felt it slip back behind her, her body twisting an unusual angle and sending a pain through her ankle before pushing her down with gravity.

“Shit-!” She cursed out loud as her back hit the mulch of the earth, the grunt leaving her voice flittering into a pained whimper.

C and Orais were by her side in an instant. Hands touched her body, keeping her steady as they helped her off of her back and onto her butt, where she readjusted herself. She sound of C’s mask being discarded echoed, a clatter to the forest floor as his cold eyes gazed across her body.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” His tone was a desperate, genuine worry that filled her stomach with warmth and pain to hear as Orais’ hands gripped her cheeks and made her face him as his cold red eyes gazed into hers, checking for any signs of internal damage or a concussion.

“Woah, Babydoll,” Orais laughed, all teeth as he smirked, “I know I said that I loved it when you fell for me but I didn’t mean it like that.”

Alexys laughed despite the pain as she winced and tried to move her ankle, feeling a swollen punch hit her and make her stop breathing for a moment.

“Don’t make jokes at a time like this,” C’s voice was muffled under his face mask and his glare was sharp at the other, scarred face and brows now visible to show just how angry he was, “She’s hurt because of you!”

“Me?” Orais snarled back, “If you had just listened to me and we had gone the direction I said we wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with! You’re such a fucking bitch sometimes I swear to-.”

“Guyssss, don’t argue.” Alexys groaned as she reached up and pat Orias’ shoulder gently, shifting arms to pat C in the same way, “I just fell wrong and sprained my ankle a bit, I’ll be okay once I get some rest.”

“That depends on us getting back first.” Orais laughed bitingly, eyes angled towards C in a glare as he frowned, “What do you think then, Jesus Boy?”

Alexys, though she did not approve of the nickname, was grateful for Orais’ question. A question from him meant that he was going to listen to your opinion. It meant that he was willing to hear C out for once in their relationship and, to her, that was something far better than she could have expected. Even C seemed surprise, his eyes widening slightly before narrowing his brows again as he thought of an answer.

Slowly his arms extended from Alexys’ shoulders and down her body, finding her hurt ankle between his hands and slowly leaning down to push the end of her jeans up. She winced as the material rode up on the sensitive flesh. C paid careful attention to her movements, wincing whenever she whimpered or tensed and uttering a soft ‘sorry’ to her until he could finally expose enough of the ankle to examine it. It was already starting to bruise, the hot red muscle bulging in comparison to the other. It looked twice as bad as it felt and, Alexys worried, it hopefully wasn’t more than the sprain she had thought.

“She’s not going anywhere on this,” C stated with a sigh, “If you put any pressure on it, it’ll only make it worse.”

“Want me to kiss it better?” Orais’ saw was upturned in a smirk as he leaned forward. Before Alexys could say anything his lips found hers, a hot and rough kiss consuming her soul as his growls and chuffs of pleasure coursed through her mouth. Orais’ kisses were always like this. Hot and sweet and filled with all of him. It was all or nothing in his entire being and he mimicked it perfectly in the way he kissed her. For, to him, she was his everything. The thought sent a blush spreading on her cheeks like a wildfire as Orais pulled away, that curved smirk against his scarred face glimmering in the daylight.

A hand reached out, C’s fingertips finding Orais’ face and shoving him backwards as hard as he could. Orais grunted and laughed through it, grinning wider, “What’s up, Jesus Boy? You jealous?”

“I’m annoyed,” C’s voice was short with anger, “That you’re wasting our time like this when we could be walking back to base by now.”

“Oh so kissing her’s a waste of time now?” Orais snorted, “‘Sides you said so yourself, right? She can’t walk at all! What are we gonna do?”

There was a stony silence and Alexys swore she could FEEL Cyril’s smirk under his mask. Reaching for the discarded full face mask, he tucked it on his belt before re-adjusting himself. She barely had any chance to ask what he was doing before she was scooped up, bridal style, and held close to his chest.

His body was warm. Under the coat he wore as his outer layer, she could feel his heat radiating across his chest as his heart beat thrummed underneath him. The fur on his collar’s trim tickled her face, little licks of fuzz biting at her eyelashes and making her smile as they tickled her. There was a shake of his chest to indicate that he, too, had laughed at her own smile. When she looked up, his eyes were staring down at her. Icy blue orbs with brows knitted together with such affection that she felt isolated under them. That she felt like she was the only one in that gaze of his that meant anything. She blushed despite herself and looked down at the ground below her, remembering how tall Cyril truly was.

He was strong, too. It wasn’t the first time he had carried her like this but each time was a surprise as she dangled her legs from his arms. Her fingers found the front of his jacket, where they curled up into the fabric to create an easier hold on something, in case she did fall off for any particular reason. She knew, deep in her heart though, that C wouldn’t drop her. He would never let her go.

Behind them, Orai’s snorted.

“You’re a fucking show off, ain’t you?” He sneered at the other man, “If you get tired, I’m always happy to take my turn carrying our little princess~.”

“Shut up.” Cyril snarked back as he began walking, the movement careful as he adjusted her in his arms and whispered softly into her ear, “You can rest now. When you wake up, I’ll have you home.”

And then a form appeared at her side, his lips finding the top of her head with a laugh as Orais hummed, “WE’LL have you home.”

Alexys shut her eyes and smiled, snuggling further into the arms of the men she knew she was safest with.

Around her, the forest sang its song of silent appreciation as they walked on.

[akindlymonster-a]

Actually stops to smell him, to /really/ smell him and commit the individual scent to memory, rather than assigning Regis to the general 'vampire' smell that so made his feathers flare and his teeth flash ----- what he would do with that memory, only time would tell ---- Hm. Herbal notes; sage, cinnamon... and was that basil? Withdrawing, Orias still snarls, a long and low hiss seeping through his teeth, but his posture is low and he's moving away, small steps backwards giving distance.

At this stage, it is more likely than not for Regis’ own personal stalker to be with him when picking herbs. He hardly needs to leave his tiny cottage and venture out into the woods before he smells that tell-tale stench, or else sees the whip of a tail or shape of a skull. Even while his stomach turns and his instincts scream to fight or flee, the presence of the creature has become somewhat of an annoyance - and a curiosity.

What does it want? Not to kill him: it’d had dozens of opportunities and not taken a single one. But what, then? To torment him? To watch him? To throw snide remarks? That one happens less than he would expect and more than he would like, but that still makes little sense. Is the demon just bored? He hopes not. The last thing he needs is to be the source of entertainment for a fickle demon.

There, again: as Regis stoops to cut a sprig of greenery, he feels hot breath behind him, the demon coming close enough to take in his scent. More irritated than perturbed, he swats at the goosepimples it raises on the back of his neck, but it is already retreating, low to the ground and hissing like a displeased cat.

“ Oh, what now? ” He puts down his pruning shears and turns to glare at it, an eyebrow raised. “ If you’re going to keep bothering me until you figure it out, whatever it may bloody well be - then simply ask. I implore you, this is getting quite ridiculous. ”

                                 @bracebeast

[coyote-in-the-mirror]

Maybe I want to be a damn beast.

Maybe I want to feel strong and scary and powerful when I've been nothing but small and weak.

Maybe I want to strike fear into the hearts of others because everyone scares me.

Maybe I want to hurt people because they've hurt me, and I'm tired of just brushing it off so I don't get hurt further.

Maybe I want to be a beast to protect the pup who lives inside me still, who couldn't protect himself. Who no one protected when he needed it the most.

[coyote-in-the-mirror]

I wonder if my trauma took away my humanity. I wonder if my autism took away my humanity.

Being so alienated and rejected, belittled, broken down, shouted at, hit, hurt.

I was human once. I remember it; the way my life was before. The warmth of the sun's rays on my skin. The way others interacted with me. I was one of them. I was not "other".

Things changed. I changed, and with it humanity slipped from my fingers and vanished before I could even blink. I was wrong. Everything about me was wrong. I tried to fit myself into a human mold but I couldn't.

So I embraced it. I've shed my humanity and I wear my canine nature with pride.

But I still wonder what life would be like if I was still human.

[coyote-in-the-mirror]

I feel like a wild animal forced into domesticity.

I need to hunt and chase and kill, but I am forced to play the part of a pet

I am collared and muzzled; I am declawed, my teeth are sanded down

My true self has been sanitized, forced to be palatable to the humans

The very humans who rejected me before I knew what rejection was

[coyote-in-the-mirror]

Do you ever walk behind someone and think how easy it would be to attack them and snap their neck?

Do you feel that hot rush of adrenaline that culminates at your fingertips and your jaws ache and your vision blurs and all you want to do is kill kill kill?

Do you ever wish to feel alive? The warm blood drips down your face as people around you scream in horror at what you've done but you can't bring yourself to care because you've finally let it out after hiding it inside you for years and it feels so goddamn good.

Do you ever think that one day you're going to snap and give in to temptation?

[coyote-in-the-mirror]

You speak with someone else's voice

A face that isn't your own reflected back at you

Inhabiting a body that isn't yours

A prisoner in borrowed flesh

[coyote-in-the-mirror]

Don't you just wish someone would just try you? Someone barges into your house with a gun and you just get the opportunity to fuck up all their shit, to sink your teeth into their flesh and taste the blood and feel the adrenaline pump through your veins and see the fear in the their eyes because god, you're a monster.

Maybe someone threatens you with a knife and you crush their fucking neck in your mouth and hear the strangled yells as they try in vain to get you away.

Not to kill, no, but just to get a taste of what it's like. Fucking hell.

[coyote-in-the-mirror]

One day I will have blood pooling at my paws

And a wild look in my eye

And you will realize with a growing horror

That you were the one who made me this way

[coyote-in-the-mirror]

Being autistic and traumatized sucks because you don't know what is an autistic trait and what is your trauma; all you know is that you're left to figure it out by yourself.

[coyote-in-the-mirror]

I watch those in the dog park with envy

My ears twitch at the sounds of their happiness but I cannot join in

Coyotes are not welcome at the dog park.

I watch those in a pack with envy

Their howls and barks echo in the empty night and my heart pounds

Coyotes are not welcome in a wolf pack

I watch the other coyotes with envy

They tussle and groom each other like family does and I sigh

I am not welcome no matter where I go.

[coyote-in-the-mirror]

If there is a god out there I will curse them til the day that I die for putting me in the wrong body twice.