#scruffy werewolf (self)

[oneandahalfwolf]

BENKAI’L & ILEYRA; FAIRYTALE ACADEMY AU

“Once upon a time...” In a world where fairytales are real and retold through the generations, a pair of new students to the prestigious 'STORYTELLING ACADEMY FOR FAIRYTALE CREATURES' fit far too many boxes to be properly sorted - much to the teachers chagrin.

@oneandahalfwolf & @bloodsorceress.

[carnivorousyandeere]

Hnnnggg ive got scruffy/feral werewolf on the brain still, so how about scruffy/feral werewolf reader with our new vampire couple 👀

Went with more of a traditional werewolf here to match Darcy and Lenore being more traditional vampires— unwilling, painful transformations ruled by the moon that turn you into a bloodthirsty beast.

CW: infantilization, dehumanization, violence, death, psychological sadism towards Darling, degradation

They think it’s utterly charming and adorable, even if you’re a violent type of werewolf who loses all self-control when the moon is full. They’re strong enough to handle you, although you have a chance of mildly injuring them with your bites. They are incapable of being normal about you being a werewolf in any way, though.

Darcy insists on calling you his puppy, and insisting you’re the cutest, sweetest little puppy on the face of the whole planet (again, even if you’re a hulking murder-machine of a werewolf and not like, a “cute humanoid who has ears and a tail sometimes”). He likes playing fetch with you, petting you, cuddling you when you’re in wolf form. If you want to be difficult and try to bite him all the time, Darcy does have some hypnotic abilities that will work on you— perhaps even more effectively than they work on regular humans. He’s probably the type to put you in little cutesy doggy sweaters and shit too.

Lenore likes to tease you and make fun of you. With her, you’re less likely to be called cute things like “puppy,” than you are to simply be called “dog,” or “dirty mutt,” if you’re particularly stinky or have pissed her off in some way. She does so enjoy pissing you off, especially in werewolf form, probably chaining you to a tree and taunting you while you try to escape and maul her. Other times, she likes to set you loose around some humans to see if you’ll kill and eat them, too. She takes great joy in the bloodshed, and it gives her a little extra amusement if you’re horrified over what you’ve done when you return to your human state. And you’re so tired when the transformation wears off, you can’t fight off Lenore’s insistence on holding you and “comforting” you. Probably also throws you the leftover bones and meat from her own meals to eat.

[rwac96]

Type: Prompt

AU: Horror AU: Werewolf/Slasher AU + Fusion AU: Super AU: Vigilante AU + Law and Crime AU: Assassin AU

Fandom: RWBY

Summary: The latest report of Ebony Knight the Half-Moon Killer of Vale spread across Beacon Academy. A cunning but excessively deranged serial killer who has killed dozens of victims in brutal and violent fashion. Nobody doesn’t know who was the killer and the reason behind his murderous crusade in Vale…nobody but the wholesome goofball dork Jaune Arc.

Theme: Jaune is a ruthless vigilante, Werewolf Bloodlust, Master Assassin, Jaune is a darker but noble character

The Vale Police Department had taped off the area, preventing any unauthorized personnel from entering the crime scene. In the alley between the Dust Shop and the jewelry store, a local human man; middle-aged, was murdered. There were many suspects, some say it was a hit by the White Fang, others say it was the work of the wanted criminal Roman Torchwick. Examining the corpse had confused detectives, while a visiting Huntsman, Qrow Branwen, had some ideas of who was responsible.

"This wasn't done by any of the White Fang," the seasoned Scythe-Wielder said, taking a quick sip of his whiskey. "they would've painted this place with their insignia. And this wasn't done by any of Torchwick's goons," Qrow picks up a vial of Dust, which would've likely been stolen.

"Then, you're saying," one of the detectives, a woman, gulped in dread at the third possible suspect. "i-it was done by...him?!"

"The Half Moon Killer," Qrow said, covering the victim's lifeless form with a grey sheet. "Brutal, grisly as any Grimm Attack, and the Vic," he pulls out his Scroll, "seemed to have been involved in some pretty nasty stuff."

"This is insane!" The lead investigator shouts, "This...This monster has been going around, killing people left and right! The only things we hafta go on are the gruesome leftovers and the vics were bastards! That pretty much labels any rogue Huntsman or Huntress!"

Qrow shakes his head, the mention of such people made him think of his twin sister, Raven. "Nah," the scruffy Huntsman dismissed, "even they have their own code, varyin' from person to person. Nah, we're likely dealin' with a lone wolf, someone who seems themselves as judge, jury, and worryingly, executioner."

~

Later that night, a grey-haired woman huffs, as she walked away from an apartment complex. She wiped the blood from her cheek, having settled some personal matters; murdering a former lover she thought committed infidelity. She didn't bother to hear his pleas of innocence, and she disregarded the fact that the 'skank' he was talking with...was his own mother! No, in her mind, retribution was in order...like always.

Delilah Deianira thought she had found the one, but it seemed fate has dealt her an unkind hand. The first was her former husband Sam, who proved to be a bit of an imbecile. Now, she had murdered her late boyfriend, Herc. Delilah huffed, as she looked at the time on her Scroll, knowing that she need to make herself scarce. The grey-haired murderess takes a right turn towards an alley, hastening her pace.

Then, she suddenly cried out in pain as her throat was slit; crimson liquid pouring non-stop from the wound. She looks down with widened eyes, horrified by how quick that was. Then, her attention turns to what appears to be a golden-furred, man-sized creature. Ocean Blue eyes gaze at Delilah with hatred, as if she was found guilty by some self-made judge.

"Murderer," Jaune Arc, The Ebony Knight, coined the Half Moon Killer by The Press said to the woman, and proceeds to pounce on his latest victim. Delilah let out a gurgled scream, as she was torn apart by the werewolf.

[chasseurdeloup]

Pillow Talk || Anita and Kaden

TIMING: Before Metzli had a menty b LOCATION: Mansión Mexicana PARTIES: @gossipsnake and @chasseurdeloup CONTENT WARNINGS: None SUMMARY: Kaden goes to pick up the mattress from Anita.

Charitable really wasn’t a word that was often used to describe Anita. She liked to see herself as fairly charitable, though. After all, she could kill far more humans than she actually did. Instead, she showed relative restraint. Quite charitable. Beyond that, however, she typically had no interest in helping strangers. There had been something about the very depressing way in which this Kaden guy asked for tips on how to make his couch more comfortable to sleep on that sparked the slightest sliver of kindness within herself. While the wheels had not been set in motion yet, she had already planned to give her roommate access to one of the guest rooms to redesign as they saw fit. It seemed only fair, given how long they had been living together and how little of the home was their own space. 

So, it was good timing that this poor sad stranger needed a bed and that Anita seemed to read his obvious cry for help while feeling particularly generous. She had sent him her home address, figuring that if he was a weirdo who wanted to kill her she could just kill him first. It had been a dreary rainy day and Anita wasn’t about to just wait around for this stranger to arrive so she decided to spend the day cleaning and rearranging her terrariums. As she usually did when she was home alone - she did so in her true form, in her lamia form. 

This was probably a stupid idea. Kaden had a lot of those lately. He was already exhausted just from getting in his fucking truck and driving over to the address she gave him. And he hadn’t even looked at that mattress, let alone tried to haul it.

Putain de merde, if he popped a stitch Regan was going to scream. He had a feeling that she would just know somehow the second it happened and he’d hear it all the way from across town. 

Well, guess he’d have to try and be some kind of careful. He grimaced as he swung out of his truck, his hand clutching his side as he stood up. He took a deep breath, steadied himself. He could manage this. He wasn’t even dizzy by the time he made it to the door. This was fine.

He was about to knock on the door, but his hand hovered, hesitating as he felt a shiver down his spine. Putain de merde. A shifter was nearby, and if he had to guess, they were inside the house, considering he only picked up on it standing there on the porch. Kaden considered turning around and going home, he wasn’t sure he was prepared to potentially come face to face with the werewolf who did this to him on the off chance that was who offered him the mattress. No, that was stupid. It would be alright, he’d just get the mattress and leave. He knocked on the door and waited to see who was going to greet him once it opened. 

The knock came at a perfect moment, as Anita had just finished feeding one of the many snakes she had living in her home. Sure, they were small and insignificant, but the reptiles always seemed to be able to sense her familiarity and they were far better companions than the yappy dog her roommate let run around the house. Whoever was at her door was human, the red heat of their body temperature certainly confirmed that. Quickly shifting back to a socially acceptable appearance and throwing on a t-shirt and jeans, she made her way through the sprawling mansion and downstairs. 

As she pulled the door open, Anita took in the tall scruffy man before her who she presumed to be Kaden, here for the mattress. He looked worn and a bit distraught. That tracked, given what little information she knew about the man. “Honestly, you look exactly like the kind of guy who lives in a cabin without a mattress. Kudos for accurate self-advertising.” Leaving the door open behind her, Anita took a few steps into her house inviting him inside without saying the words. 

“It doesn’t come with the bedding. You don’t need the bedding, do you?” Anita genuinely could not have cared less about the bedding, but she felt that she needed to keep talking and she was not about to be a “good host” and offer to procure a beverage for him. 

His senses faded as he waited, all but gone when the door swung open. Kaden was starting to think he was imagining it. “Thanks,” he said flatly as he followed her inside. He winced as he started walking, hoping she didn’t see the pain written all over his face. She was judgemental enough as it was. And it had been about ten seconds. “It’s my cousins’ cabin so they got dibs on the mattresses.” He had a feeling none of it mattered to her. The house was huge, elaborate. She was clearly not the kind of person who would feel at home in the cabin even with a top of the line bed to sleep in. Her loss, as far as he was concerned.

“I figured,” he added, a few steps behind her despite his long legs. Stupid injury slowing him down. “I have a feeling we have different taste in bedding, anyway.” Honestly, he’d be fine sleeping on a bare mattress with no damn bedding of any sort. Which is why he usually went for the cheapest shit he could find at the store. It was also exactly what he planned to do once he had the mattress at home. “So is it upstairs or downstairs?” 

Cousins, plural. It was interesting, given his accent Anita wondered if that was what brought him to town. It wasn’t interesting enough, however, for her to actually ask him about it. She really had no desire to engage in banal small talk. If he was content living in a cabin with multiple cousins and, to date, no bed, then that was his business. 

Giving him a once over, Anita’s mouth turned to a slight frown and she shrugged, “You’re probably right about that.” If he weren't a human man perhaps she would have been more cordial, but he fell into her least favorite category of person. Absent an empty stomach - she really saw no need or use for him. “It’s not up or down, it’s on this level,” she responded, figuring that by downstairs he meant the basement. While she had noticed his soft grunts and obvious pain, Anita had been planning on ignoring it until she realized that it likely meant he would need assistance carrying the mattress. She sighed softly, “I take it neither of your cousins were free to help with mattress pick-up?” 

Kaden tried not to look relieved when she said the mattress was on that level. Stairs only made the pain that much worse. Not that he wasn’t used to working past pain. Hell, that was probably half of hunter training. If not the majority. 

“Good. Lead the way,” he said, gesturing as if he was just trying to take his time following rather than the truth of the matter which was that it hurt to move. “Yeah well someone had to go to work since I’m on leave at the moment,” he said with a shrug. Truth was he didn’t ask because he knew Andy would give him that look. The one that said “are you fucking kidding me you dumbass?” Which would be fair enough. Still, he wanted the damn mattress and he got the feeling Anita wasn’t the type to make room in her schedule for him or go out of her way to wait for him to pick it up in a week or two. 

He glanced around as they walked (well, he limped) and noticed the decorations around the place. Skulls and bones lining shelves and various containers of different bugs. Interesting choice of decor. “Funny, I know someone who has a very similar taste in interior design. She works in the morgue.” 

“Because you’ve injured yourself?” Anita wondered what type of job he did that prevented him from working while injured. It didn’t really narrow things down at all, since it essentially just ruled out office jobs. He seemed like the kind of person who worked with their hands, and not in a typing on a keyboard all day way. “Enough to not be able to work, but not so badly that you cannot transport a mattress.” It wasn’t really a question but she did find it interesting. He was either stubborn or stupid. 

As they walked through the living room and down the hallway towards the spare bedroom, Anita toyed with the idea of just eating him. But then she recalled that her conversation online with him was public and would likely draw unwanted attention. “If you’re talking about the deeply dark and depressing decor and art… that’s my roommates.” She turned her head back as he mentioned the morgue, however, her interest suddenly piqued. Surely there were multiple people who worked at the local morgue, but she wondered if he knew the same very mysterious medical examiner that she did. “Quite an interesting place to work, I’m sure. What does your friend do there?” 

“Very observant.” Kaden tried to keep the sarcasm to a minimum but it was hard to curb it entirely. “I’m animal control,” he added. “Pretty sure moving a mattress is a lot less dangerous than what I encounter daily on the job.” While that was true, that didn’t mean this was going to be easy. In fact, he had a feeling this was probably more than he could handle. Not that it was stopping him.

“Is it? Who’s your roommate?” He asked, brow raised. Maybe she was roommates with Regan? No, that didn’t seem right. Though it was macabre, it was a slightly different sort. Also he couldn’t imagine Regan trying to live with anyone. Not with how elusive she was. “Medical examiner,” he replied. “She helped patch me up, actually.” Why did he share that? Putain. There wasn’t any fucking reason to open the door to any real conversation here. He could tell she wasn’t in the mood.

“I am a scientist. We are known for our keen observational skills.” The response was laced with just slightly more sarcasm than the initial statement he had made. Though upon finishing her sentence, Anita tried to recall if she had mentioned her occupation in their conversations or if he seemed to be the type to google the person he was picking up a mattress from. She didn’t spend much thought on it, as her mind was now preoccupied with what he did for a living. “Animal control?” She didn’t quite know how she felt about that job. Sure, some animals needed to be controlled… but in a town like this one it made her wonder exactly what sort of animals he was in the business of trying to control. “Get too close to a mama bear or something?” 

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t know them. They’re quite aloof usually - runs an art gallery downtown.” Anita normally wasn’t cagey about disclosing who her roommate was but she didn’t see the need in giving him any more information than that. While she hadn’t met the beautifully macabre medical examiner she had been speaking to online in person yet, Anita knew enough to think that she and Kaden were talking about the same one. It was curious though, as Regan didn’t exactly seem like the type to offer to patch up injured animal control workers - or, by her own assertions, have friends. “Think I might know her as well. Unless this town has two medical examiners with … similar taste in interior design.” 

As they neared the end of the hallway, Anita turned to open one of the tall wooden doors. The guest room was modest, compared to the rest of the home, but still well decorated. It lacked any of the more unique art and trinkets from the main house, instead decorated with bright Mexican artwork and warm tones. If it had been used twice in the three years since the home was built that would be a lot. “So, this is it.” 

“Something like that,” Kaden said with a shrug. Ow. Mistake. He’d have to remember to shrug with the other shoulder, keep from tugging at the sutures. “I was trying to contain a large, aggressive dog. I tranqed it but not fast enough.” Close enough to the truth, right? “Dog’s fine, by the way.” Alright, he wasn’t sure of that. He had no idea what happened to the werewolf in question, but he assumed it was alright. Shit. Maybe he should go out and check the area, just to be sure. Not like he could eavesdrop at the 3 daggers to try and figure it out. No one was going to brag about taking down a drugged werewolf. They weren’t likely to commit any details about its appearance to memory, either. They would only care if it was dead. 

“Runs an art gallery?” Kaden raised a brow. There was exactly one of those that he had been to in town. Not that it was a big town, but it would be an interesting coincidence. “Is it the one with the good cheese? I think, uh, what was it, MuertArte?” It felt strange now to be in Metzli’s house without having known it. Now that she said it, though, it made sense. He could see some of the similarities in taste of some of the decor to that of the gallery’s, not that he could describe any of it. More got the same feeling if anything. “I know them. Not well but helped them get an aiva– I mean, a rooster out of the gallery at one of their openings.” Granted that made it clear enough that her roommate was decidedly not Regan. “Sounds like the same one. Dr. Kavanagh. She’s interesting, I’ll say that much.” She was certainly curious. There was no reason for him to want to pry into her secrets and foster any sort of relationship there, not when she pushed him away any time he hit a nerve, but something kept drawing him in. 

And there it was. The mattress in question. The room was bright and inviting. Not his style (which he didn’t have much of, admittedly), but he wouldn’t hate staying there. He smiled as he noticed one of the blankets thrown over a chair in a corner of the room. “My, uh…” Putain, he did it again. He didn’t know if he should just say friend or what. What exactly was Monty to him? He didn’t know and he wasn’t going to figure that out now standing in this guest room to pick up a fucking mattress. This shit was too complicated. “Monty, he has a saddle blanket for his horse that looks just like that.” 

Kaden pulled his arm across his chest and stretched his shoulder before swapping to the other. He rolled his shoulders back, stretched his neck, and tried to prepare himself for what would normally be an incredibly simple task. He decided to start by pushing the mattress off the bed frame. Bending down to reach it hurt like a bitch, but Kaden was determined to just grit his teeth and bear it. It’s not like he had to fight for his life while injured, he just had to carry a fucking mattress. 

Large aggressive dog. It could go either way, Anita figured, as there was plenty of natural and supernatural wildlife around town and she couldn’t quite recall if there had been a full moon recently. “Oh, well thank goodness.” She didn’t want to come across as a total ass, so she quickly added, “That you’re both okay, relatively speaking.” Even if it had just been a wild dog, Anita would always root for the animal over the human trying to control it. 

It wasn’t all that surprising that he could identify the art gallery - there weren’t many in town - but it was interesting that he claimed to know Metzli. Helped them… get rid of a rooster? Anita wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. If she knew her roommate, which she liked to think she did, she couldn’t really imagine that they would have needed assistance dealing with a simple rooster. Did he know more about them? Did he know what they were?  “Oh? Can’t say I can speak to the quality of cheese they offer at their openings, but yes, that’s them. I’m sure they were quite thankful for your assistance with … the rooster.” 

It made him knowing Regan more compelling as well. Anita had her suspicions about the very dedicated medical examiner, but those were things she would figure out for herself whenever they finally met - which she was sure would happen. “She was pretty adamant that she didn’t have time for friends. Guess you’re a lucky exception.” Why was he an exception? That was beyond her. Or maybe he wasn’t a friend, and she just felt bad that he had gotten attacked. Which, again, struck Anita as odd. “No need to go to a doctor with an on-the-job injury when you’ve got a friend who’s medically trained, I suppose.” 

While Anita was, admittedly, far more curious as to who this man was and how involved he was in her community than she was when he first arrived, she still had no desire to let this interaction drag out too long. After they stepped into the guest room she began to take off the decorative pillows and pull down the blankets and sheets that were still on the bed. “Your Monty?” A small smirk spread across her lips. That was a curious way to put it. Her gaze moved towards the hand crafted wool striped blanket that she had ordered from a local artisan back in Mexico. “Is your Monty a vaquero?” She paused, then translated, “Is he a cowboy? Back home a lot of them use these blankets for their saddles. They’re durable.” 

Well, warm was definitely not a word that Kaden would use to describe her, he’d say that much. She wasn’t hostile, though, and pleasant enough, clearly kept decent company, so that was probably the least he could ask for. “It was comte, good shit.” He was about to mention that they thanked him by giving him some extra blocks but decided against it. “I actually asked them if they’d help teach me Spanish the other day. I offered to help them with French. Seemed fair enough.” Something told him that he wasn’t about to see Anita a whole lot if he ended up over here again. Didn’t seem like he was to her taste. 

Kaden was familiar with Regan’s insistence that she didn’t have friends nor wanted them. Something he questioned from the get go. Not that not having friends, that part seemed to hold true, but the not wanting them? Didn’t buy it. “No idea if she’d call me a friend or not. But we keep meeting by circumstances.” Some of those circumstances involved mime mushrooms, unfortunately. He’d prefer getting sutures any day of the week. “Plus, she yelled at me to go to a doctor so not like she could really say no when I turned up at the morgue.

As Kaden started to help take off the bedding, he stopped short and his face flushed bright red. Shit. “My– uh, no. He’s not– That’s not– I didn’t mean– I misspoke, alright.” He had to turn away from her, he culdn’t handle how fucking warm his cheeks had gotten. Fucking hell. “Uh, anyway, he is, yeah. Owns a dairy farm out in Gatlin Fields.” Maybe if he rubbed his cheeks a little with the inside of his arm casually, they’d fucking quit betraying him. “Makes sense. Don’t know if you have the same back home, but he’s from Mexico.” That would explain the overlap in aesthetic, now that he thought about it. Probably should have been obvious from the get go.  

“They’re a fairly quick learner, but I can’t really speak to their ability to teach. I’ve had to help them out with English a lot over the years. Didn’t realize they wanted to learn French.” When Anita first moved to town and welcomed Metzli into her home there weren’t many others who came by with any amount of frequency. Lately, however, her roommate was becoming shockingly social and the number of strangers that became regular guests had drastically increased. Anita wondered if he was going to be added to that list… she hoped not. 

“Didn’t realize animal control and a medical examiner had so many circumstances for interaction. Way she made it sound, she spends the bulk of her time in the morgue.��� It was promising, however, that it seemed that Anita may have the opportunity to get close to Regan if the right circumstances kept arising. Or if a very crafty lamia carefully and intentionally created circumstances for interaction. She’d keep that idea in the back of her head. “Well, in fairness, I’m sure she’s not exactly used to bodies showing up at the morgue that can actually ask for help.”

Anita shrugged as she continued to strip the sheets from the bed, tossing them in a somewhat neat pile in the corner of the room. “You don’t have to be embarrassed to like this Monty. If you’re talking, dating, fucking, whatever… I don’t know him and I hardly know you, so I truly don’t care about whatever your dynamic is.” She straightened her top out as she stood up after tossing the last piece of bedding off the mattress. “How’d you meet? Animal control call for a missing cow or something?” Not that she would do so herself since there were far more delicious thighs in town to eat, but she had heard that livestock often went missing in town. Natural and stationary prey for the world of predators that surrounded them. “I’m also from Mexico, so that is what I meant when I said back home.” 

Without waiting to see if he was going to make a pathetic attempt, given his injured state, to help move the mattress, Anita began to push it off the bed frame and stand it up on its side. It wasn’t particularly heavy, and if need-be she knew that she could get it out to his truck by herself even without use of her lamia strength. “Hopefully your cousins will be home to help you get this back out of the truck later.” 

“Well, worst that happens is that it doesn’t work out.” Kaden knew that Metzli was still learning English and that they didn’t seem like the most talkative person. Still, there was something that made him feel like they were the right person to ask. Maybe it was because he figured that they’d be blunt, but that they wouldn’t judge him for making stupid mistakes. At least not in any real, harsh manner. He could be completely wrong and maybe he was an idiot for reaching out but it was worth a shot. “But yeah, they said their partner speaks French and that’s why they were trying to learn it. So, yeah, it’s entirely possible we’ll end up just speaking to each other in our native languages back and forth and not have a fucking clue what the other is saying.” At least there would be good cheese.

“An unusually aggressive vulture attacked the morgue once. And she managed to find a dead fox in the woods that seemed like it had an usual death. She helped me locate it again to examine it.” Not that they ever got to examine the fox or learn what had killed the animal. They were a little preoccupied with the effects of the fucking mushrooms instead. “She said as much. Did the sutures anyway so pretty sure I made out alright in the end.”

Kaden sighed. She had a fucking point. Why did he care if she cared? Right, he didn’t. And he definitely hadn’t blushed, either. “Fine. You caught me. Just dating. I think.” He never knew how to define shit and he sure as shit didn’t want to ask or talk about it. Labeling things or committing to shit always made him want to twist away and make a break for it. There was something too vulnerable to it all, the possibility of getting hurt too close to reality. “Close, funny enough. Someone dropped a horse off at the animal shelter and I knew he had a farm. I called, he came to take the horse, I went there to help, left with a date. Definitely had worse days on the job.” 

Yeah, should have guessed she’d go ahead and start moving the mattress without him. It was clear Anita wanted this done as quickly as possible and the way to achieve that was definitely not by letting him struggle on his own. Kaden went to grab one side of the mattress, figuring they could probably move it fast enough together. It was more awkward than heavy, anyway. “Me too. At least hope it doesn’t rain long enough for them to help bring it inside.” Not that there were storm clouds in the sky but, knowing his luck, well, it was a possibility. 

Off the top of her head, Anita could think of several worse outcomes than it simply not working out. It wasn’t that she didn’t think Metzli couldn't handle this guy on their own if push came to shove, but there was a strange protective instinct that came over her. It wasn’t a feeling she was particularly familiar with, but it almost made her wish that their tutoring sessions did take place at the house, that way she could at least make sure nothing strange happened. “Well, that is certainly an option. We speak the same tongue and I don’t understand what they are saying sometimes.” She offered it up as a joke, unsure if the tension she felt was real or just in her head. 

“I don’t date, so I am certainly not an expert on it. But I think you typically should know whether or not you are dating someone else.” It was moments like these that Anita was glad she didn’t let herself get tangled up in relationships, they always seemed to bring out a weird side in people. “Sounds like you seem to make out impeccably well on the job. Capture a rooster, get a Spanish tutor. Deal with a vulture, get an on-call trauma surgeon. Find a stray horse, get a date.” It was actually quite impressive. He was either blessed with dumb luck, or perhaps he had a natural charm that was simply lost on Anita. 

It was admirable how he came to offer assistance moving the mattress. While it was unnecessary, Anita opted to let him help instead of shooing him away. With her holding the bulk of the weight, she started leading them out of the guest room and back down the hallway toward the front door. “Didn’t even think about it before… but you’re gonna just put this down on the floor of the cabin, aren’t you?” Should she offer the bedframe to him as well? That seemed unnecessary nor did she really think he would accept it. Besides, a mattress on the floor had to be better than a lumpy couch anyway. 

Kaden shrugged. “If nothing else, I know they’ll bring good cheese. So I might not learn a damn thing but I’ll be well fed.” He wasn’t usually one to stick to the silver lining bullshit but in this instance, he was strangely positive. Maybe it was because he knew there would be a dog involved in addition to the good cheese. 

“Me either. Usually,” he replied. “Relationships and labels and all that shit are too fucking complicated. So I don’t know what the hell to call it.” Whether that was because of ignorance or him ignoring the issue of labeling shit or asking any questions about it was up for debate. He was pretty damn fine with how things were at the moment, no need to make it into a big deal or make shit weird. Interesting that she had a point about his luck on the job, considering. Granted, only one of those instances actually involved an animal and not a monster but the outcome was the same he supposed. “Yeah, guess that’s my reward for losing a pound of flesh or whatever. So far it’s a decent trade but we’ll see what I get for the next brush with death.” 

“For now,” he told her as they walked the mattress through the house. “But I’ve got a bed frame coming.” He didn’t feel like explaining that Monty was making it. He’d embarrassed himself enough already. When they were halfway to the door, Kaden’s brows furrowed. The brief interlude of quiet spurred his memory. His hunter senses went off just as he got there. And then nothing. Strange. If she was a shifter, he should still feel it. But there was no one else where.  

…Putain, should he be worried about a dead body in the house? Was there a shifter here that she offed? She could be lying about the macabre decorations being solely Metzli’s. 

“Not knowing what he’d call it is the kind of thing that’s usually solved with a conversation, I think.” Anita wasn’t sure why she was continuing to engage with the relationship conversation. Maybe it was because she did admittedly find it interesting when someone claimed to ‘not be a relationship person’ and then found themselves intertwined in what seemed like some complicated dynamic. That seemed to be something that happened regularly yet something she had personally managed to avoid. “But again, I don’t really care about your dynamic with your vaquero.” 

“Capturing a runaway rooster constitutes a brush with death to you?” Either he was being facetious or this rooster story had more to it than simply being a rooster. She’d have to ask Metzli about that. As they got towards the door, Anita felt a soft shift in his demeanor. Without making it obvious, she scanned the room for something out of place that might cause concern to a human. There didn’t appear to be any - Anita didn’t keep things like that out in the open. Maybe he was just realizing how sad his little cabin was in comparison to her own home. 

Not wanting this interaction to linger on much longer, Anita simply proceeded towards the front door, setting the end of the mattress down for a moment to swing open up the large wooden door. “I can take it the rest of the way to your vehicle, if you want. Don’t want you to bust open those stitches and bleed all over my walkway. Blood is hard to get out of concrete.” Without waiting for his response, she began to proceed down the front steps and towards the truck parked in her driveway. 

“Yeah, yeah. What happened to ‘I don’t date, I’m not an expert, I don’t care,’ huh?” Kaden shot her a look, but it didn’t help him avoid blushing when she, once again, called Monty ‘his vaquero.’ Putain de merde. They had to get this mattress in the damn truck and wrap this shit up soon as they could. He was having enough trouble keeping his foot out of his mouth and he didn’t anticipate it getting any better the longer he stayed there. 

Kaden rolled his eyes. “Not the rooster incident, the one with the wer–” Fuck. Kaden let go of the mattress and his hands flew to his side as he ‘doubled over’ in pain. He was sure it was very convincing. Definitely covered up the slip of tongue. “Like I was saying, the incident with the dog. That did this,” he said, pointing to the injury. And of course, she was still walking ahead with the mattress in hand. Great. Good to know he wasn’t helping even a little. He sighed and dragged after her, no longer attempting the rouse. 

“Go for it,” he replied. And he wasn’t surprised that she was out the door and tossing the mattress into his truck before he said a word. At least the feeling was mutual that this interaction had run its course. And then some. Kaden hobbled over to the truck and helped direct the mattress into the bed of the vehicle, angling it to rest against the side. He got to work hooking the tie-down straps to the truck and tossing them over the mattress to pull across to the other side. 

The slip of the tongue did not go unnoticed by Anita. She had her suspicions about what ‘wer-’ word he was going to say that miraculously got replaced by ‘dog’. It certainly was not the time or the place to address those suspicions, however. An animal control officer throwing around the start of the word werewolf was enough for her to trust her gut instinct on not trusting him. His apparent connections to both her roommate and the weird yet compelling medical examiner were enough for her to not swallow him whole on the spot. “Dogs can be quite aggressive, and I’m sure you come across the most aggressive of them in your line of work.”  

Him releasing his grip on the mattress actually made it easier for Anita to navigate it into the bed of his pickup truck. After she tossed it in the back she wondered if they should have put some sort of tarp down first - it wasn’t exceptionally clean back there. Oh well. Content with her contribution to the efforts she let him take lead on tying the mattress down. 

The plan had been to pass off the mattress and never interact with this strange french man ever again. But he had been just strange enough that Anita decided it was probably better to keep an eye on him than to write him off forever. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around for your language exchange with Metzli.” She paused for a second before deciding to continue, “Be careful out there. Lotta dangerous animals in these woods.” It wasn’t exactly a threat, but it wasn’t not a threat. Depending on the types of ‘animals’ he had a fancy for controlling Anita would gladly be the one to put him in his place. 

[quinndecker]

Some more self indulgent art from the Vampire au me and my gf @kmilart made

Werewolf Amber! She a scruffy troublesome puppy >:3

[trail-mx]

Prompt is courtesy of @writing-prompt-s:

"You are a werewolf and everyone in the village knows. When its nearing the full moon they all help you baricade yourself in your home since you are the only wheat farmer in town. Everything was fine until some self righteous lord takes over and demands not only your land but your home as well."

. . . . . . .

"Allen killed his first deer yesterday - he wants you to have it."

I look up from my tea, surprised. "I hadn't realized he was old enough to go hunting yet. How big are we talking?"

"Oh, nothing much. It's just a full-grown buck, weighing shy of 270 pounds with an 8-point rack."

"270!" I sputter, tea almost coming out of my nose. The bastard timed that bit of information too well. "Paulie, I can't accept that. Winter is coming. His family will - "

"His family has already agreed to give it to you." Paulie - or 'Little Paul' as he's called by the folks in the village - interrupts what's gearing up to be a fully reasoned argument as to why I cannot accept such a fine offering. "Mary considers it a good omen that he got it right before the moon."

I look down towards my tea again. I'm not one to believe in omens, but even I find the timing of a 12 year old killing a full-grown buck on his first hunting trip now of all times to be suspicious. Allen's family has been very kind to me since I came out about my 'Moonly Issues', and I would be a fool to turn away such a thoughtful gift. Mary would probably tan my hide and put it in the entryway of their home as a warning to others about accepting the kindness of your neighbors.

However, I've never been one to give in easily. "Tell them I'll pay them the full value after the moon."

Paulie's blue eyes dance with restrained laughter. "You're welcome to tell them that yourself. I'd rather avoid the lecture."

He takes a long sip of his warmed cider, his preferred drink during autumn. This year, the season seems to be rushing towards winter faster than anyone wants. Being this close to the Full Moon makes me more susceptible to the cold, so I've wrapped my hands around my own tea and desperately wish to bury myself in about four thick blankets.

"Cold?" Paulie asks, a look of understanding crosses his face as I reluctantly nod. "This weather is miserable. I'll get with the twins to make sure you have extra blankets when you wake up tomorrow."

I sigh. The twins will probably make sure I have every blanket in town if they have their way. "Please try to temper their enthusiasm. You know how they get."

"I know. Cara and I will supply the blankets. That should ensure you only have to deal with a small mound of covers rather than an avalanche."

I laugh. "Thanks, Paulie. What would I do without you?"

"Mmm... you'd survive. We're just happy to look after you. Mark is just glad you're making use of the old property. He's willing to sell it to you for a fair price."

I shake my head. "I have no need for two properties. My little homestead is just fine. It's just a little..."

Paulie scratches his scruffy beard while he hums in understanding. "You know how Tall John installed those new iron-bound wooden doors to both your home and this house? All the reading he and Jacob have done says that should be enough to keep you locked in during the change, but I respect your desire to keep a healthy distance from the town."

"It's not that I don't appreciate their research," I say while looking around the sparsly furnished room. I don't need much this time of the month and had been forced to spend more time than I thought I would arguing with Mark that, no, I didn't need a better bed. I'd probably just destroy it. "It's just that I don't want to risk anyone. You've all been very kind."

"Of course we are!" He grins. "If it wasn't for you, Suzi might not have made it through last winter. Plus, the grain you stored away kept the whole village fed when the meat ran out. We're just returning the favor."

I look down to hide my blush. I had only been doing what was right. There was no reason to hoard all that extra grain when it would feed the village. As for Suzi - Paulie's youngest - she had been ill off and on all winter, and it seemed that fresh meat helped. It hadn't been that much of a hardship to get as far from civilization as possible during the Full and hunt.

Taking care of the Pack is instinct for the Wolf, after all.

"It was nothing, Paulie." I say. "I was happy to help."

"And we're happy to look after you." Paulie replies. "Now, do you need anything before I go and tell Allen the good news?"

I think about it a moment. The town always makes sure that there is plenty of tea to drink and books for me to read while I wait for moonrise. I prefer to lock myself away the whole day of the Full Moon - not because I'm dangerous the whole day, but because I'm always so blasted cold even during the height of summer and it makes my joints ache something fierce.

Others with my affliction say it's different for everyone - some are more sensitive to the chilled pull of the moon than others. Many say it's a sign of strength, with the more spiritual saying that the moon blesses her chosen to sense her power even during the day so that they can pull on it if the need arises.

I just find it to be entirely uncomfortable. So, I hide away in the cabin, downing cups of near scalding tea while wrapped in the warmest sweater I own in an attempt to stave off the chill.

"Another blanket if you don't mind. Oh, and if you can ask Big Paul to place something heavy in front of the door after you're done bringing things over, that would be great."

Paulie doesn't roll his eyes, but I can tell he's considering it as he stands. I have always found it ironic that the town calls Paulie 'Little Paul' despite being 6 feet tall and 250-odd pounds. Then again, 'Big Paul' is 5 inches taller and at least 50 pounds heavier.

"Don't I always? I already planned on speaking with Paul anyway. I'll need his help to bring the buck over. Sucker is heavy."

"You do know they invented this new device. I've heard it's called a wagon. Means you don't have to drag the beast all the way here." I tease.

"I'm familiar." He drawls, standing in the doorway. "However, would you like to bring that beast in here yourself?"

"No, thank you!" I rush to say. No way would I be able to bring that inside. Plus, that would mean going outside where it is cold.

"Then hush. I'll be back in a while."

. . . . . . . .

"Oh dear. Why do you always insist on sleeping on the floor? I have it on good authority that even dogs enjoy sleeping on the bed."

I roll over and open my eyes, squinting them in the light. I feel vaguely hungover and my body aches some. The change last night must not have been as awful as it could have been. I've had better ones, but on average, this one wasn't terrible. Lonely, but not painful.

"Bed is awkward when you're 7 feet of gangly Wolf limbs." I reply to the voice. "Floor is easier."

"Hmph. Sure it is! Maybe we'll just have to make you a bigger bed then!"

"Ugh, no." I roll over to face the voice, almost rolling into a pool of blood. I almost panic for a second - did someone get in? - when I remember the deer. That would explain the mess and why I only feel like I drank too much last night rather than like I'm recovering from a terrible illness.

"No? Don't tell me this is some sort of 'Punishment' thing! Just because some idiots think that your illness is some sort of 'Divine Retribution' for whatever sin your ancestors committed doesn't mean you don't deserve to be comfortable." Eva - one half of the brown eyed, brown haired Harrison twins - is looking down at me with a look of mild disappointment.

"No. It's practical." I say, sitting up. At some point, one of them must have put 3 blankets over me. I'm thankful and wrap myself in one. Not that there is any shame in my naked form, and the twins would scold me if I even considered it, but it takes a couple hours for the moon's chill to recede. "I'll just tear at a mattress with my claws trying to get comfortable."

"Hmm..." she squints at me. She doesn't buy it, but isn't going to argue with the only Werewolf she knows over the matter. Especially when there are more important issues. "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat."

"Hah! You sure? You certainly gorged yourself last night!" Eva gestures to the bloodied mass on the floor next to me.

I shrug self-consciously. The Wolf is always such a messy eater. "Transformation takes a lot out of you."

"Well, Lacey will get something fried up for you. Won't you, Lace?" Eva looks over to the small kitchenette in the corner where her twin is standing by the stove, eyebrow arched in challenge.

Lacey doesn't rise to the bait, which is odd. If there is anything that the twins enjoy more than hovering over me after the full moon, it's arguing with each other. They will argue over anything and everything. They find it to be good fun - everyone else just finds it bewildering.

Eva is also disconcerted by the lack. "Lacey! Won't you start breakfast for our dear doggy pal here? I'd do it, but I'm cleaning up deer viscera."

"What? Oh, sure! What sounds good, dear?" Lacey seems to be trying to shake off whatever is distracting her with limited success, considering she - with her well-known sensitive disposition - doesn't even acknowledge the mention of deer guts on the floor.

"Now I know something is wrong. What's gotten into you?" Eva almost sounds concerned rather than irritated, but only just.

"Oh, it's that notice on the community board. The one about the Lord."

"What notice?" I ask, gathering my blanket around me while standing up and making my way to the little table. The aches are easing - I'll have to come up with something nice to give to Allen if he won't accept payment for the buck.

"The one they put up today about how our village is being given to some Lord or another." Eva says, tone unimpressed and hands covered in gore. "All that means is our taxes fill a different coffer is all."

"That's not what Marcie is saying! She's heard of this Lord Ransom. Apparently, he was given ownership over another village and he either bought out the villagers' homes or harrassed them into leaving."

"Lace, I know you like the girl, but where would Marcie have heard anything about a Lord? She barely leaves her house!" Eva exclaims in disbelief, hands flying up.

I flinch back as some blood lands on my face. I'm sure my face is already a bloody mess, but I don't desire to make it any worse.

"Watch it, you fool! You're getting blood everywhere!" Lacey scowls, coming over with a wet towel to wipe my face. "And if you must know - she heard it from her cousin. She does write to her extended family fairly often. Just because you never mastered the proper social graces doesn't mean the rest of us didn't."

Eva rolls her eyes but does keep the gestures to a minimum. "And this supposed 'cousin' of hers knows this Lord Ransom?"

"I'm given to understand that he knows him well enough, even if they're not exactly bosom buddies."

"Hmm..." Eva hums, then uncharacteristically changes the subject while turning to face me. "Would you mind if I took some of this antler? My boy has gotten it in his head that he'd like to take up carving and has been asking for antlers. Don't know how long his interest will last, but I figure 'why not?'"

"Take the whole carcass, or what's left of it. I have no need of it. Just ask him to let me know if he makes something he's proud of and wants to sell. I'd like to get a chance to look at it first." There - that takes care of both dealing with the deer and gives me the opportunity to get my debt to Allen's family cleared if they won't accept my money.

"Delightful. I'll be sure to ask. Thank you."

I just nod and look over at Lacey for a moment while Eva begins to clean and wrap up the deer. She's looking distracted again while frying up the bacon.

I clear my throat. It's going to be a bit sore from the howling for a day or two. "You know, Eva is probably right about that Lord Ransom, but I've got some contacts myself within the Werewolf community. I'll send out some letters over the next couple of days. What did the notice say? Anything about a meeting?"

"Yes, there's to be a meeting with both the Tax Collector and the Lord in two weeks at the tavern. All adults are encouraged to attend." Lacey looks over her shoulder. "And thank you, dear. I appreciate you looking into it."

"Well, now that those issues are being looked into and your worries are settled," Eva wanders over after washing up outside. The carcass was wrapped up and placed in their wagon presumably. "Maybe you can focus on breakfast. The bacon is about to burn."

"Oh, bother!"

. . . . . . . . .

"This is highway robbery! We can't afford those taxes! We're barely making enough to cover the current rate as is!"

"I don't like it either, Mark, but what can we do?" Paulie yells over the angry din of the tavern. "The new Lord has the right to set the tax rate. We'll just have to adjust!"

"Adjust!" Mark yells, grey mustache quivering. "You can't drain blood from a stone! There's no adjusting to such!"

I wince at the volume, thankful that the moon is dark in the sky. Closer to the Full, I'd be practically whimpering under the table. I cannot say I disagree with the man, however. It is an unfair amount, especially for a town that is constantly walking far too close to famine each winter.

I look around the table. The whole tavern is full, but seated with me are those who help me the most often during the moon. There's Paulie, local busybody/my friend; Cara, Paulie's wife and the schoolteacher with intense green eyes; Mark, the village blacksmith and carpenter; Jacob, Mark's eldest son and the villages pharmacist; Mary and Charles, Allen's parents and owners of the only other farm in town outside of my own; and the twins Eva and Lacey who, when they're not caring for a tired Werewolf post moon, run the tavern and small inn.

"Maybe we can discuss it further with him. He said that he'd be in town the next couple of weeks." Mary says while brushing her blonde hair out of her face. "If we can get the figures together, maybe we can help him see. He's not familiar with the area - he admitted to that much. He might not realize that we simply can't afford what he's asking for. "

"No, I know the type." Charles massages his knuckles while he speaks. The chill of autumn is hard on his arthritis, or maybe he's imagining punching that swarmy Tax Collector on the nose. I certainly am. "He 'earned' his money on the backs of the people. He'll break us first before he'll compromise."

"Well, it doesn't hurt to try, right?" Eva points out, her expression sour, but not just because of the topic. The person to deliver the Lord Ransom's 'most generous and gracious tax plan' was the Tax Collector, otherwise known as her ex... something or other. No one has ever really said for certain, except to say that their falling out was more like a nasty explosion that rocked the town. "He just wants money - maybe he'll take installments instead of one lump sum at the end of the year."

"I'm not sure we could even afford that," Lacey looks over at me, eyebrows knitted in concern. "What did your contacts say?"

The table goes quiet, and everyone looks towards me. They have all been curious about my network of Werewolf contacts. I tried to explain that we were all just people who happened to have a pretty major, life-altering condition in common - one that is fairly demonized and greatly misunderstood by a good majority of the population. It makes sense to have a network, even if to only be sure we didn't settle in an area where people would kill us. It isn't anything different than keeping up with some extended family.

Considering how focused everyone at the table is on me, I don't believe it sunk in.

"He's rich, powerful, and well connected. The rumors Marcie's cousin heard are true - he has been buying up towns and villages. Most of my better connected friends are confused as to why - it makes more sense to keep the village intact and collect taxes. What they do know is that all the places he bought out were old mining towns. Some still are in operation, but most haven't been used in years."

"So he's after the mines, then." Jacob speaks up for the first time that night, swirling his drink in his glass. "At least we know that much."

"What mines?"

"There's nothing in those mines. They were stripped ages ago."

I look over to Paulie, who had spoken when I did. I raise an eyebrow.

"The silver mines. They lay just outside the village. Been blocked off for years once they were stripped of anything of value at the time. They closed when I was a kid." Paulie nods at me, then gives me a quelling look when I notice the play on words.

Not the whole story, then - something to discuss later.

"Regardless of his reasons, the tax issue must be addressed." Mark presses.

We all agree on that much.

. . . . . . . . .

"I kept my peace, but I want to know what you mean by 'at the time.'"

Paulie looks over to Jacob. "You're the one who brought it to my attention. You explain it."

Jacob never looks comfortable. Tonight, sitting at my table, he looks less so. He's accepting of my furry problem, but he's heard too many horror stories to ever be completely at ease in my home.

It's just the three of us. Paulie wouldn't say why, but I knew he wanted to keep this quiet, so I invited him for late night tea. The village is used to us meeting up that no one will think too much about Paulie inviting his pal Jacob along.

Jacob clears his throat. "You're not the only one who has been exchanging letters with others outside of town. I've got an uncle up north who is really into new science innovations, and he's been all excited about a new mineral that has been discovered that has some rather explosive properties if bonded with other elements. Apparently, kingdoms are clamoring for it to continue their wars and are willing to pay handsomely for it."

"Let me guess: this miracle mineral is found in silver mines."

"It appears so. The problem is that if you want this mineral for its explosive properties, it has to be processed a certain way almost immediately after being removed from the earth, or else it's just a pretty, if useless, rock."

"That's why he's scooping up the land around the mines. He needs the space." Paulie muses.

Jacob nods. "He would need both a place to store the mineral before and after the processing as well as space for treatment."

"Okay, now that we've answered that, here's the real question: Why?" I look at them both.

"Why what?"Jacob asks.

"Why the pretense? Why pretend he's interested in the village's taxes when what he really wants is the land itself?"

Paulie, as always, follows my thinking. "Because the King doesn't know. The King gave him the right to collect taxation, not to kick the townsfolk out of their homes and reopen the mines. What do you want to bet he isn't giving the King his fair percentage?"

"I'm not taking that bet." I reply with a grin.

"Nor I, but this is all merely speculation. We don't have proof of such things." Jacob cuts in. "What are we going to tell everyone else?"

I think about it. Jacob is right. We have no proof of wrongdoing, just buckets of speculation. "Regaredless of his reasons, there's only one clear path: We must not sell him our homes."

"With these taxation rates, many won't have a choice but to move," Paulie looks to be thinking it over. "But if those who are better off help out the others..."

"Then the bastard will get his money and won't have a choice but to leave us alone." Jacob says triumphantly. Then his expression turns sober. "That only leaves the rumors of his harassment campaign. He might not go away quietly."

"We'll handle when it comes up." I say, and if my smile is a little sharp, you can always blame the Wolf.

. . . . . . . .

"I hate that man! I hate him and his stupid cane! Jules didn't deserve that!"

I look over to Allen, but I can't bring myself to chastise him. I also hate the Lord Ransom. A week out from the Full and each night I get steadily colder and the Wolf inside begins to bay for blood. This would be manageable - I've been doing it for years - if it wasn't for that damned man.

The offers started last week when no one packed up immediately to avoid his high taxes. The gossip chain (the Marcie-Lacey-Eva-Mary-Cara-Paulie version anyway) spoke of the high amounts of money being offered. A couple of families had taken the deal, and no one could begrudge them that, but most of the town held firm.

This is our home, and we aren't going to be bought out.

This week, the harassment campaign began. Big men, saying they spoke on behalf of the 'Good Lord Ransom', went to random homes and offered larger sums of money. If those families refused the offer, then they were threatened. A few of them had rocks thrown in their windows.

Eva's home had gotten a visit, and she blistered the goons ears for the attempt. Who did they think they were threatening her? What would their mothers say?

They didn't take kindly to the scolding. In retaliation, that night, they threw a burning bottle of liquid through her son's window while he slept. He will survive, but the flames weren't kind.

The house, however, is lost.

"I know. I'm worried about Jules, too." I say. We're sitting on my porch while Mary and Charlie get Eva settled at her sister's place. Eva is furious and out for blood. The two of them are the only ones capable of restraining her - everyone else wants to help her or hide the body.

I can't say I blame them, either.

Maybe I'll let Eva get her pound of flesh and put what's left of him in the pig pen. Saves time on hiding the body, not that I think anyone would look that hard for it based on his reputation.

"I hate that man! Mom says he's greedy and is gonna get what's coming to him. Do you think so?" Allen looks up at me from his angry brooding. He's clutching his fists in his lap tight enough to see the whites of his knuckles.

I look down at him. "Men like that always get their due."

. . . . . . . . .

"Nice farm you have here."

I look up from my work. Harvesting the last of the wheat and preparing the grounds for the frosts to come must have been consuming my attention. Normally, 3 days out, I'm hyper aware of my surroundings. I should've heard him approach a hundred feet or so ago.

The Lord Ransom is not a handsome man despite the quality attire he wears. Prematurely balding with beady brown eyes hiding behind thick spectacles, I imagine there are few hearts that flutter at the mention of him if either his title or money aren't mentioned in the same sentence. He carries himself like he knows he deserves better than being in a place where his new leather shoes might get mud on them, but he is willing to suffer the indignities to suffer us.

Or maybe I'm too close to the Full and his very presence is irritating me, but I know how to play nice when the situation calls for it.

"Good afternoon, my Lord. It's not much, but it's home."

His resulting laugh is high and boisterous - and very false. "And what a fine home it is! I was actually hoping to talk to you about it."

Ah. I'd been wondering what was taking him so long. Everyone else in town had gotten offers and threats over the past couple of weeks. I had wondered if my 'Moon Problem' had been shared with him and he was avoiding me. Ideal, considering I can't stand the fool, but it would be so very annoying if he hired someone to 'take care' of me.

There's no reason to play dumb. "I hear you're buying up land."

"I am, but if I was only interested in that, I would've sent one of my associates to talk with you." Somehow, his smile is more false than his laugh.

"I've heard you've spoken to everyone in town yourself before outsourcing the... negotiations to your associates. Is there a reason you would not offer me the same courtesy?"

"Not at all!" He proclaims loudly. He certainly likes the sound of his own voice. "I'm just a busy man and grow weary of the slog of negotiating."

If this man is weary of anything, it's probably being denied what he wants. I know the type well enough.

"You are asking a lot of these people. Some of these homes have been in their family for generations. That kind of thing is priceless." I reply lightly, leaning on skills I haven't needed in years and slipping into that old, highborn accent.

He was not the only one taught by a Governess, after all.

He may be unattractive, but he's not a fool. He catches on quickly. "You are not from around these parts, are you?"

"No. I was raised somewhere more like those places you prefer to be - with their high vaulted ceilings, crystal goblets, and gentle manners. I wanted something different, and I found it here."

It's almost too easy to slip into that role of misplaced noble. Just a person of gentle birth who wanted to step away for a while - rough it with the common folk - but with the right offer, they would be willing to be swept back into that glittering world.

Not that I want to go back, of course, but this man only respects those of his own rank and, by rights, I'm that and more. A common person won't get through to him, but someone from his world? He might give them their due consideration.

The Lord Ransom assesses me. I know he's unmarried, and I know that there are circles closed to him because of that. I can see the calculations going on in his head and the plans that he discards based on this development.

"You own this farm outright? No debt to the town?"

"The property is mine, yes."

He laughs, incredulous. This laugh is genuine, at least. "I suppose that you work the land yourself then? No hired hands to help?"

I look at him blandly, as I had been raised to do. "I believe that would defeat the purpose."

"And what purpose would that be?" He leans in, expression curious. I imagine he couldn't ever imagine himself willingly working in the dirt for all the gold in the King's vault.

"To make something of my own. To watch it grow from seed, to plant, to grain, and into bread from my own effort. To toil and reap the rewards from what I've sewn."

"Yes," He muses, "I can see that."

A moment of silence. I can see him come to a conclusion.

"You'll do." He says almost too softly to hear, but I'm no longer distracted by grain and soil.

"I'm sorry, my Lord?"

"I originally came here to offer to buy your land. However, in the place of what I thought was a young widow, I find a Lady of gentle birth toiling in the dirt. A soul who understands the value of hard work, dedication, and sacrifice! I have been long put off by the vapid nature of the common High-born and therefore put off marriage. I had even accepted that I might never be married - that it wasn't my role in this life."

He steps forward, a fevered gleam in his eyes. I can almost see his grand scheme play out in them.

"Then, I meet you. Now, I see that I was looking for a proper union in all the wrong places! I needed a bride who was forged from hardship and unafraid of doing what needed to be done."

He bows deeply before me.

"Allow me to court you, my Lady."

I stare at him and blink. That's... interesting. I hope my expression is still coming across as bland curiosity and not sickened shock. "This is very sudden, my Lord. You don't know me or anything about - "

"That's because I don't need to! I already know you're the one I've been waiting for!" He moves forward and grabs my hands. I keep from pulling back in revulsion. "I don't care about your past or where you're from. I want you! I'd marry you right here... right now! However, you are rightfully cautious. I'm willing to wait."

"I... don't know what to say."

"How about I give you time to think about it. I know I have had my own worldview changed. Just say you're willing to consider it?"

I look at him, and then I see it. The way forward.

The solution.

I breathe in and resign myself to the inevitable. "Dinner."

"What?"

"In 3 days. Dinner. I have another property north of here. Quiet and secluded. If you're seen here again, there will be unwelcome rumors, things neither of us can afford. However, few know that I own that property. If you were to stop by in the evening..."

"No one would suspect. Beautiful and brilliant, my Lady." He puts him lips to the back of my hand and looks up, a knowing look in his eyes.

If only he knew.

. . . . . . . . .

"I thought you gave up all these jewels and dresses and things."

"I thought I did, too." I look in the mirror back at Cara's worried expression. She's pulling my hair back in the classic braided style down my back. Nothing as fancy as I would've worn to Court, but nicer than I've worn in ages. Thankfully, the gown fits well, its color bringing out the full intensity of my eyes.

Or maybe it's just that moonrise is mere hours away.

"I know you're cold, but I found this velvet shawl in my things. It'll keep you warmer." Cara says as she wraps the shawl around my shoulders with a small smile. The black velvet adds a certain dignity to the outfit.

I try to smile back, but it stalls out halfway. "I..."

She nods in sympathy and understanding. "No one wants this for you. We can come up with another way. We can - "

"No," I cut in, speaking around the lump in my throat. "I... I'll be okay. It's just..."

Cara doesn't say anything. She just leans in and gives me a hug as I cry and shiver into the warmth.

I said I would take care of the problem and I will.

The Wolf protects the Pack.

But like this?

I didn't want this. I was running from this, but here I am, despite everything.

After too short of a moment, I lean forward and dry my eyes. "You have to go. He'll be here soon."

Cara looks around the cabin. It's been made up nicer than I prefer, with fine silver utensils and linen on the table. The bed, which I'm spending most of my time trying not to look at, has been fitted with the nice silk sheets I had packed up when I left home. It had been something to remind me of where I came from, and then I had hid it away because it reminded me of what I'd left behind.

"It looks like a proper Lady's home now. I'm sure he'll appreciate the effort." Cara looks at me and grins. The smile dims when she looks closer at my expression. "You don't have to do this."

"You should go, Cara." I say, my smile - as strained as it is - hopefully taking the sting out of the words. "Tell Paulie I said not to forget his promise."

Her smile is small, and her eyes are sad. "I will, but he won't. He has never once forgotten his promises to you."

. . . . . . . . .

"Simply ravishing, my dear."

"Do come in, my Lord Ransom. Welcome to my home." I curtsey before him exactly the way I was taught. Some things really are ingrained.

He takes my hand in his. I can hear his pulse beginning to quicken as he takes in the low neckline of my gown. "Van, please. I thought you were beautiful out in the field, but in here, you are radiant. These common folk don't know what beauty has been gracing them."

"Thank you, my L - Van. You are too kind." I murmur, looking down demurely. I focus on breathing through my mouth. Breathe in, hold for 4, and breathe out.

"I must say, my Lady, despite how quaint this cabin is, you do manage to bring some class to it." He says as he looks around the room. "Do you stay here often?"

I look up to see he's practically staring at the bed. I don't need to meet his gaze to know that he's thinking about my low-cut gown and how he wants this night to end.

"Not often. I was gifted this cabin by an Aunt. I try to keep my birth a secret from the town."

"Yes." He looks at me and winks. "You like to rough it with the riff-raff."

I focus on my breathing. "They are good folk."

"I'm sure they are, but you have to admit they're rather dull."

"They have their charm." I say with a little smile. I can see the mocking laughter in his eyes. "Would you like to eat? Maybe tell me more about why you're buying up the town?"

Asking a Lord to talk about himself and his plans will usually save one from any discomfort when it comes to smalltalk. The Lord Ransom is no different.

"What do you know of mining, my dear?" He asks as he sits down at the table, putting a napkin in his lap.

I make my way to the wine bottle first before sitting. A Lady always offers to pour their guests' drink first. "Wine, my Lord? And not much, I'm afraid. I know that metal comes from the ground, and it is backbreaking work, but that's all."

"Yes, please. And please, do call me Van. It sounds lovely when you say it." He pauses while I pour, focused intently on me. His eyes meet mine, and I can see the desire in them. I finish pouring both our glasses and hold his gaze while I sit across from him, pulling my shawl tighter around me. I try to keep my breathing even.

"Well, you know the basics, then. However, what you may not be aware of is that certain metals tend to be grouped up underground with other minerals. It turns out a particular mineral that has high value in warfare forms near silver. Now, most silver mines around here were stripped of their fine metals years ago, but with the discovery of this material, these mines can be reopened and lost jobs restored!"

I take a sip of the fine wine. It's not what I want. I focus on my words. "That's fascinating, but I'm confused as to why you can't just open the mine without buying out the villages? They formed around the mines, right?"

"You know your history, my dear! Yes, the villages and towns sprung up around the mines as the miners and their families needed places to stay nearby, but silver doesn't need any special processing when it's mined, so the miner's homes could be closer. However, this mineral does need special treatment. I need the land around the mine as well for such things."

"Ah, I see. Do you plan on founding a new town then? Outside the blocked off area, I mean?"

"I do. I don't know how far the mines go, so I don't know where the bounds will be, but eventually, there will be. After all, the workers need a place to sleep!"

"Surely forcing others to leave their homes is rather crass, isn't it?" I focus on my plate, taking extra time to cut my chicken into smaller pieces. Ones small enough for a Lady.

"Yes, some might think that, but much is sacrificed for progress! What's one home, or even a dozen, in the face of that?"

"And money, of course."

"Of course, my Lady." He says with a wink. "No one said you couldn't make money from progress - you just can't stop it!"

The conversation dies for a moment. The only sounds that fill the cabin are the clank and scrape of silver on porcelain - the only sounds I allow myself to notice, anyway. I focus on the chicken - dry. Then the vegetables - I force them down. I take gulps of wine that are borderline unladylike - the taste is wrong and the alcohol does little to warm me.

"I was thinking we should discuss our future." The Lord breaks the silence, placing his utensils down. It appears he had no trouble eating.

"Our Courtship, you mean?"

He nods. "And beyond."

I let out a pained laugh that I hope he reads as simply incredulous. "Beyond? Awfully presumptuous of you, my Lord."

"Van, my dear, and is it?" He looks at me, raising an eyebrow and speaking slowly as if to a child. "You invited me into your home without a chaperone for dinner, skipping several steps of the process. A home you specifically invited me to because no one was around to question your honor. You have been playing coy, and I do enjoy that in a woman, but let's not lie to ourselves."

His gaze burns as he looks at me.

"You know how this night ends."

I look out the window to see the sky darkening, the first stars starting to peek through the twilight. There is a heavy thunk from the door that startles the Lord into looking away as his head swivels towards the source of the noise.

I shudder from the sudden chill I feel all the way down into my bones.

It's time. I take a deep breath in.

The Lord turns back towards me, his eyes widening in horror as I feel the Moon's pull. He smells of our dinner, sweat, and no small amount of fear.

Good.

I feel my bones break and shift, my body elongating, and nails turning into claws. The gown tears from my body as I stand, the shawl dropping from my shoulders. The pain is intense, but my eyes never leave his as he backs away and then tries to get through the door before sliding down it.

It's locked and blocked until morning - a promise Paulie always keeps.

I didn't want this. I ran from this. Here I am.

"Yes, Van," the words pull from me in a growl as I get on all fours and stalk towards him. "I imagine we both know how this night ends."

[enidfia]

The Dark Wolf

name: Cynfael Ramison

- meaning: Chief Prince, son of Rami

age: 32

gender: male

birthplace: the southern isles

nicknames: the dark wolf, shadow, Cyn

timeline: medieval

status: alive

build: tall, wide

birth: August 27

occupation: Monster hunter

affiliation: Lions Croft Guild of Peace Keepers

character abilities: Hunting, tracking, is a classic werewolf so he only changes form on full moons but has all the other attributes at any other time

skin tone: dark sun kissed

eyes: deep amber, almost black

hair: black with hints of grey, a mix of loose thick hair and braids tied away from his face

height: 6 foot

weight: 198 lbs

scars: covered in various battle scars, mostly bites and scratches

tattoos: monster hunter's mark, front right shoulder

face: usually scruffy beard, bold eyebrows, angular nose.

personality: the silent type. He is stubborn and pushes for the information he needs and nothing more. He is set in the ways of tradition, finds pride in his job, and does it with intense purpose. He liked learning more and more about monsters in order to protect humanity from them.

fears: getting attached to people. Being a monster hunter means monsters follow him. It's too dangerous.

likes: he won't admit that he likes the softer things in life. A nice bath, a soft bed, warm crisp bread.

dislikes: losing. He hold too much pride in his abilities and will not allow himself to fail. failure means someone else dies.

habits: never going to bed at a decent time, intense staring and often not contributing to conversation. He doesn't talk to people much and his conversational skills are lacking. he's very blunt.

flaws: he can come off as harsh or uncaring, he focuses too much on missions and not enough on those around him, he can't pick up on others feelings or moods very well

talents: monster hunting of course, sewing (for stitches and clothing repairs of course)

relationships:

wife- Andromeda

family-

Father - Rami Ammarison 52

background: King of the Southern Isles pre- war. Died protecting his wife. The war of the southern kingdoms abolished the small island kingdom. The land was fought for by larger landmasses. Since the death of the royal family it has been won and lost dozens of times.

status: deceased

Mother - Kimora 37

background: Queen of the Southern Isles pre-war. Died shortly after childbirth during the last siege.

Status: deceased

Siblings

Kimora Ramison- 19

background: first born, set to inherit the thrown. Went missing during the last siege, assumed dead.

Lailaneh Ramison- 15

background: second born, betrothed to a southern kingdom. Assumed stolen.

Emmet Ramison- 12

background: second born son, killed during the last siege.

background story

Cyn was a child of war. The first born son to the Kingdom of the southern Isle, Cyn was the only known surviving Ramison. The Last Siege took place in midsummer, just before his 13th birthday. Cynfael managed to live only due to his cowardice and vowed to never act in pure self preservation again. It had brought nothing of any good, even though he was just a boy when their castle was sieged he was certain he could have helped or at the very least died along his twin brother Emmet fighting for their home. His wet nurse had hid him away thought the web of catacombs beneath the dungeon. If the family would survive it would be through him, the eldest son.

The castle was reduced to rouble and everyone he had loved was either slaughtered or missing.

Cyn disguised himself as just a simple mercenary, using the monster slayer skills of his family to make a living for himself. The Kingdom of the Southern Isles is all but forgotten now. Its never mentioned anymore besides the useless island lang the southern kingdoms constantly fight over and pass ownership.

Cyn spent most of his time working, earning enough to be able to stay in nicer inns and enjoy little luxuries when his body needed the rest. Over time mass monster populations dwendled and he was tasked with more mercenary type jobs. Called by lords or dukes to take care of little problems they had in their territories. Eventually he got a job for a "she-demon who pretends to be a midwife to steal the babies of the village no sooner than they're born" He did his researched, watched the woman for weeks. She seemed harmless to him but the village said otherwise. Stories abound that she ate the babies souls as they grew only to be still born or die shortly after. In reality this "she-demon" was the best midwife he'd ever seen. She had an impressive success rate. In a time human midwives procured 60% of the babies they tended the she-demon saved 95% of them. He'd watched her take care of a hopeless case, a small teen mother who clearly couldnt give birth safely. Both died in the process and the She-demon midwife grieved for a solid fortnight.

Cyn had all but given up on the case, this "monster"was different. She was helping the poorer community who couldn't afford normal doctors. He carried on to the next village where he was tasked with taking down a pack of vicious rabid dire wolves..... in the end they where werewolves and there was too many of them. Cyn retreated with several venom filled bites to the only physician he knew that could help.

In the end Andromeda wasn't able to save him from the werewolf venom but she was able to help him get use to his new reality, restored his health, and helped him find peace with what he was.

timeline:

age 12- family murdered in the last siege, became homeless rough

age 19- accepted into the Lions Croft Guild of Peace Keepers as a skilled monster hunter for the crown.

-works easily solo for 10 years-

age 29- tasked with killing the "she-demon" midwife-Andromeda, watches her for four months and decides to abandon the quest

age 30- begins questing again for the Peace Keepers Guild and tasked with killing the wolf pack. He looses for the first time in his career and slowly becomes werewolf over the next month. He immediately goes to Andromeda for help. She was the only doctor that wouldn't immediately kill him. He slowly learned to control the wolf within in and use it to his advantage to continue monster hunting.

age 31- marries Andromeda. The marriage is kept in secret, if the guild knew he married what they call a monster he would be exiled. He himself would be hunted and murdered if they knew he was a werewolf.

[whimsicalcotton]

boarding school werewolf thoughts

Dani gains a reputation on campus for being an absolute fucking weirdo because of winter in their first year when they would routinely wander into the woods with a bunch of meat and be gone for hours on end. sometimes they'd come back with the bag still full sometimes it'd be gone. whenever they came back empty handed they seemed in far better spirits. nobody has the balls to ask them about it.

Timber spends a lot of time/effort hiding her wolfy traits during spring and summer. trims her claws & gets rid of her lil scruffy sideburns every morning, very self conscious about showing her teeth/smiling bc she worries about her canines. Misty on the other hand does not care at all. she's sitting there in class scruffy as hell tapping her claws on the desk and giving everyone her signature toothy grin. she's eating milkbones in the cafeteria.

Nat will also wander the woods with wolf munchies during winter but she's a little sneakier about it. she finds it fucking hilarious that Dani will just fully pass by people and stop to chat while holding a visible bag of raw meat and does nothing whatsoever to encourage them to be sneakier too.

overall Nat has much more luck finding Misty in the woods than Dani does finding Timber. there is also the difference in behavior; Misty acts more like a well socialized dog than an actual wolf but Timber is Full Feral Creature Mode. sometimes Dani and Nat go out together but it's a shot in the dark to hope they can get both wolves in the same place at the same time.

Nat will be like ''ugh thank god i don't have to look after you when you're puppy-brained'' but (semi) secretly she hopes that one day they'll all live somewhere with lots of space up by the woods and then she could keep Misty with her all winter bc they're stupid and in love <3

pre lycanthropy reveal there were times when Timber would get really fatigued&feverish and wind up bedridden, and Dani would sit by her bedside all night fretting over her. while being absolutely oblivious to how Timber's teeth seemed to get sharper by the minute, how each time she twisted up in pain and gripped at the sheets they tore under emerging claws. Dani's too busy thinking about how to get some tylenol when it's past curfew.

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Forging Ties - Chapter 2 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Duran didn't actually go to the beach because there were way too many people there already.

Instead, he found an old, barely visible road and followed it up through the trees.

Maybe he should have been worried about getting lost but it was easy enough to find somewhere he could see The Spire from so he wasn't too worried.

Also, he had a swarm of pixies stalking him.

They seemed fascinated by his hair, constantly flying around his face and tugging at clumps of it.

If it wasn't going to get him laid, he was cutting it off.

Duran found a small creek that flowed down towards the ocean and sat down on a big rock that rested along its bank.

He really shouldn't mope about not being able to do exactly what he wanted.

It was silly to be sad when he'd grown up expecting to be nothing but a slave and spent the last year of his life sitting alone in a room, waiting for the next time his master felt like using him.

Just being able to sit and listen to the burble of this creek should have been enough.

Being with Danya and Fanner, being free, those things should have been enough.

Maybe he was just broken inside, cursed to seek until he found something he couldn't have so that he'd have something to be sad about.

Or perhaps he was just in the mood to wallow in self pity.

He didn't think he was a particularly miserable person by nature.

He'd found happiness in worse situations than this.

Duran watched as a brown and grey wolf ran up to the creek some distance from where he was sitting and drank from the water.

It was odd how quickly he'd become comfortable seeing such massive beasts roaming around.

It should have been scary but at this point it just wasn't.

The wolf had noticed Duran, and it headed up the creek bank towards him.

It was Slone, Duran realised now that he was closer.

The hairless section of scarring across his shoulder gave it away.

Once he reached Duran, Slone shifted.

He did it far more quickly and fluidly than Yore.

"Hey," Slone said as he, completely naked, waded into the shallow creek and sat down in the middle of the clear, flowing water.

"Hello," Duran said.

"Did someone send you to find me?"

"Nah, I was just wandering," Slone said. "Saw you and thought I'd wander here and see what you were up to."

"Nothing too interesting, I'm afraid."

"Yeah?" Slone asked.

"Shame. I don't come out to The Spire too often but it's a cool place. Thought maybe you'd be enjoying it."

"I went to the top. That was nice."

"Oh yeah?" Slone said. "Maybe I should head up before I go. It's been a while."

"Where are you going?"

Slone shrugged and splashed water up over his chest.

"I'm a wanderer. I travel around and I see what I see. If I tried to go somewhere, I'd probably just get distracted on the way and never make it."

"I wish I could go with you. Wandering sounds nice. I guess you probably wouldn't want me to even if you could keep me balanced, though. You're a werewolf. I'd slow you down."

"It's not always such a bad thing to be slowed down," Slone said. "You miss a lot when you go fast but it ain't always easy to go slow just for the sake of it."

"You'd really take me with you if you could? You're not just saying that because you know you won't have to?"

"Nah," Slone said, water running down his body as he stood up and walked over to where Duran was sitting.

He sat down on the pebbly bank of the creek next to the rock Duran was sitting on.

"Lying makes things too complicated. I say what I mean."

Their heads were at the same level now and Slone was hot and naked.

Duran grabbed a fistful of his scruffy hair, leant in and pressed their lips together.

Slone didn't pull away but he also didn't kiss back.

After a moment, Duran let go of him and sat back.

Slone offered him a lopsided smile.

"Sorry. Can't say I'm into men."

"I can look enough like a woman from the right angle."

"Hmm, prob'ly," Slone said. "But you don't smell like one. Not gonna work, I'm afraid."

Duran licked his lips and looked away.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"Nah, it's fine."

Slone stretched his arms out in front of himself.

"You ever see us do our wolf greetings when someone's been away for a bit? If I'll shove my tongue in my own brother's mouth, I ain't gonna be too flustered by a little peck on the lips."

"I assumed being in wolf form made things like that a little different."

"Sorta does and sorta doesn't. Wouldn't do that on two legs because our senses work different. Wouldn't make sense to. That's all. Anyway, why you kissing up on me? Thought you were after humans for that."

"It's not all about energy. Why does nobody question it when Hamish is just horny but when I am, everyone wants to delve into my motives and intentions?"

"You don't think it's more complicated for you?"

Duran lifted his legs up and folded his arms over his knees.

"I don't want it to be. I want to be able to just enjoy the things I know I enjoy about life, to rediscover the good in sex but I feel like everyone keeps pushing me back towards my trauma. Everyone thinks that those dark parts are what it has to be about for me first and foremost. That everything I do and everything I want must spring forth from that and therefore needs to be coddled and danced around."

"Yeah?"

Duran let out a long sigh.

"I'm not saying I'm not fucked up but that's mine to deal with in my own ways and in my own time. I don't want or need anyone else to worry about it. I love Danya and Fanner, I like a lot of the people I've met here, but part of me wants to just go. To find people to be around who don't know who or what I am or what I've been through."

"You regretting letting Kit share that thing?"

"No. Things were always going to be like this. People having more or less information doesn't change anything. They were always going to think they understood when they don't."

"Ah, well, if it helps any, I know I don't understand shit."

"Good. Don't try to change that and we'll get on great."

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Scruffy | Mute M!Werewolf x Fem!Reader

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Short story

Pairing: Christopher Van Helsing (mute m!werewolf tattoo artist) x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: Allusion to bad body image/low self-esteem, tooth-rotting domestic fluff, a sprinkle of an aroused wolf.

Summary: Confidence doesn’t come naturally to your mute tattooed boyfriend. Normally your presence and the ink on his skin is enough to prevent him from retreating into his own world, physically and mentally. However, on the morning after a strange night, he can’t muster even the tiniest sliver of it.

It is one thing to have him in your arms, worn and ragged like he’s been chased through the woods. But it is too much to bear to see him looking into the mirror with a forlorn expression as soon as he wakes up. Wanting to improve his mood and perhaps get some clarification about last night’s events, you decide to make this morning about nothing but love, care, and attention.

After all, who doesn’t like a scruffy wolf? 

Author’s Note: As of writing this, this blog has 100+ followers! Thank you all so much for following me, who started this blog as a wee experiment and with low expectations. I am so delighted to see the interaction with and appreciation for my posts as well as my take on werewolves. ^^

Speaking of experiments, Christopher is one too. I have been meaning to expand and improve my writing skills by challenging myself, which apparently has led to exploring the psychology and life of a mute werewolf artist.

And let me tell you, Chris won me over the second he came into creation. I hope you will adore him as much as I do. I am not responsible for any emotional damage due to combusting into a ball of fluff, though!

Anyways, enjoy!

Inspired by @exoxenoterato​’s additions to my Werewolf 101 & this wolfish thought as well as this audio by the incredible Gael Force.

Thoughts ML | Story ML

It’s a rare sight to see Chris unshaven. Each morning, he’d already be in the bathroom with a razor in his hands regardless of there being hair or not. From the moment I first stumbled across his first and only selfie on his Instagram profile until the moment I walked into Saga Ink for the tattoo on my thigh, I have never seen the slightest trace of beard grow or a moustache. Even as we slowly began to see each other more, developing our sweet coffee and drawing time together, has there been the tiniest hair above his full lips or on his jaw. 

However, this morning is different. 

It was a strange night overall. Although, it’s better to say it was a strange morning since the sun was brimming on the horizon when he stumbled into the bedroom, buck-naked and covered in sweat. I didn’t ask him what had gotten him in such a state, the sad joy in tired eyes and quicksilver smile flashing by over his pale expression betrayed he didn’t have the energy to sign or type out on his phone what happened. 

One thing was clear, however. It’s a long story for later.

So, instead of laying it on the line with him, I beckoned him to bed. As he shuffled over, he grabbed his favourite shirt, a baggy grey sweater with a deep round neck, from the chair beside the closet and held it out to me. I gestured for him to sit down and helped him into it.

A low pained whimper escaped Chris when he tried to get comfortable, a sound that shattered my heart in a thousand pieces and hurt me more than the hardship he has to endure because of his muteness.

“Are you alright?” I asked, pulling the sheets over us. He had his head on my chest right where he’d be able to hear my heartbeat. Listening to it, as it turns out, is his personal melatonin and though he doesn’t admit it, he does get sulky when I deny the little pleasure to him. More often than not this is the case if he has the time to take a nap during work hours but I have a writing deadline or I send him to bed early after a long day of work and a meal. 

He didn’t answer. With every short and sharp breath the tawny locks not yet matted by sweat trembled like the sprigs of a tree about to snap. Had he returned a second later from wherever he came from, I fear he would have collapsed.

I thought he’d sleep in, especially considering the state he was in. Nevertheless, I wake up to an empty side of the bed and the door left open a crack.

It’s not difficult to find him since Chris is a creature of habit and routine. Each morning it’s the same cycle of waking up, shaving, showering, eating breakfast, brushing his teeth, drawing up a new design or adding some last-minute details to a client’s if there’s time left, and going to work. 

His sister, Victoria, remarked it’s good for him since he used to be “more than a little unhinged”. When I asked what she meant by that, she simply nipped her tea and looked at the man she runs the old bakery in town with, originally called ‘Hedgeford Bakery’. “Humanity is a funny thing, innit? One moment we’re savages and the next we’re here, chatting over a cup o’ char without a single trace of malicious intent.”

Less given to cryptic words, his colleague at and owner of Saga Ink, Saoirse, remarked Chris has calmed down now that he’s found a way to express himself. Building up a routine via trial and error has helped, but it’s mostly the ritual around and time spent on art she named as the major factors for his tendency toward repetition and emphasis on doing simple things. “I remember when we met. He stood behind his adoptive father, Abraham, drenched by the rain and unable to look me in the eye. The day I took him on as an apprentice his shoulders were hunched as he sat on the sofa next to his station, absorbed in whatever he was drawing. Together, we build up his portfolio and this studio, all via small moments ranging from cleaning to sitting by the window to sunbathe together. He’s taught me to slow down and I guess I showed him a way to become who he wants to be.”

But whoever this version of himself is, it’s not the image in the mirror this morning.

“Don’t look like that.” I swallow the frog in my throat, which transforms along the way into a stone which weighs heavy on the bottom of my stomach. 

The dull stare in honey eyes temporarily lightens to startled surprise as they widen, his next breath hitching in his throat. The whiteness in the knuckles of his left hand clenching the side of the sink fades as he lets go of it. Notwithstanding, the trembling the strenuous grip suppressed is visibly present in his other, which flaccidly traced the forming moustache and stubble.

“You’re still frustratingly handsome. Seriously,” I wrap my arms around his waist and press my cheek against his warm chest, humming in delight as the heat warms my face, “you roll out of bed and look good.”

He answers the embrace, but the lack of conviction in the kiss on the top of my head and sad whine has me hold on a little tighter. In fact, we won’t be leaving the room until the self-doubt has gone, no matter how long it will take. For all I care, we’ll stand here for hours on end. The whole day, even the entire week, if necessary.

“I mean it,” I look up at him, a dagger plunging into my heart at the resignation in the loving yet bland gaze staring back at me, “you look good with and without facial hair. In fact, if it were up to me, you wouldn’t be shaving at all anymore.” 

Gently, I let my fingers run through his messy wavy hair and slowly work my way down to his jaw. His eyes widen when I scratch him in the spot that makes him putty in my hands, obedient to my every whim. “I hate to admit it, but I like you a bit better when you’re scruffy. It makes you look more like a wolf.”

He lets out a puzzled sound. It’s sharp enough to indicate he’s curious where the appreciation for his, in his opinion, imperfection is coming from. Notwithstanding, his lashes fluttering shut and encouraging nuzzle against my palm indicates he likely won’t listen nor remember anything if I were to explain myself. He slowly starts to sway, the languid movement betraying his mind is growing foggy. To steady himself, he places his hands on my hips. Nonetheless, if he leans in too much, I’m not sure whether I’ll have the strength to keep us both on our feet.

Basking in the intimacy and relieved at his relaxed demeanour, I let out a giggle. “Can I keep my werewolf?”

A content agreeing sigh accompanied by a frantic nod afraid I’ll stop touching him grants me my wish. Sometimes a little well-meant manipulation can establish something good in a relationship. Henceforth, if I have to resort to tricks like this to either get what I want or give him the confidence he needs, so be it. And it comes from a place of love and care since, most of the time, they’re the same thing.

Although it’s sometimes about food, especially in his case.

We’re still working on the chores reward routine.

Chris lowers his gaze, his fleeting attention grabbed by something below. The loose sleeping shirt I’m wearing has been pulled down by the cuddling, thus revealing a bit of attention-grabbing cleavage.

“Chris?” 

  No answer. 

“Chris?” Absent-mindedly, he brushes his slender fingers over the exposed skin, the rough skin of his fingertips creating a trail of goosebumps and shallow breaths. 

“Christopher?”

This time, there is a response. He perks up, expression blank and his thoughts a million miles away. 

“It’s that I’m your girlfriend, but-’’

Before I can finish the sentence, a veined hand folds over my breast as feverish lips press against mine. Astounded by the rash action, I freeze in place as my thoughts run rampant.

Only to become light-headed with the feel of his soft tawny locks around my fingers, left breathless by the pleasant burn of his coarse bristles scraping over my skin as the kisses wander to my neck. Every nerve is stirred into motion when his teeth graze the side of my throat, nipping at it yet biting hard enough to leave hickeys. The hand that was perfectly folded over my breast glides from my chest to my lower back and presses us closer together. 

Had he not stumbled in as he did this morning, I would have gone along and taken things back to the bedroom. But the panting against my lips and shivers combined with cold sweat are a worrisome distraction from the hard shape pressing against my thigh.

“No.” I break away from his touch, my chest tightening at the sight of the pale face with furrowed brows looking back at me. “Not now. Not after what happened last night.”

He tilts his head, a grimace distorting his handsome features. Nonetheless, it dawns on him the second after what it is I’m referring to.

The memory dims the sensual lights in honey eyes, the gloom creating a shadow over his faltering expression. An acknowledging chuff admits to the easy dismissal of this morning’s events. 

Avoiding my gaze, he walks out of the bathroom. I stare after him, mouth dry at the thought I unintentionally hurt his feelings. Fortunately, he returns a moment later with his phone. 

He types something and turns the screen to me to read. 

Sorry, I should know better.

“Don’t apologize. It’s alright.” I cup his cheek, exercising a little force to hold his gaze. “But let me take care of you. I’m worried, Chris. I go to bed with my boyfriend at night only to find him standing in the doorway like a hunted animal that’s finally found safety at dawn. Where did you go and what happened there?”

I can’t tell you. You won’t believe me anyway. Don’t ask more questions, sweetheart.

“Try me. I don’t care if it’s hard to understand. I just want to know what made you, the person I love and care for with my whole heart, show up like that.”

It’s a really long story. One I don’t want you to know. Everyone has secrets and this one’s mine. 

He puts the phone down on the sink, changing from written texts to signing. He tends to do this when what he wants to say is, or should be, simple enough for me to interpret. A new way of communication is what I have learnt from him. Though, nowadays and with what rudimentary skills I have in sign language, I wish I had known about it earlier. Or at least known enough to have saved him a lot of discomfort and me a lot of shame. Notwithstanding, there is something to be said for the initial awkwardness between us as the foundation of our strong bond.

I’m okay now. I don’t-

What he communicates is strange if I interpret it correctly. “Feel… can you repeat that? Feel the… wolf… feel the wolf anymore?”

Discombobulated by his odd response yet curious about what he means, I tilt my head. “You don’t feel the wolf anymore?”

My wolf instinct. It’s not strong anymore now.

“Your wolf instinct? What do you mean?” I cross my arms, observing his body language to discover a hint about the meaning behind the new comment in this strange conversation.

Can we stop talking about this? I’m uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I clearly stroke a sensitive cord and for that I’m sorry.” Although I’m unwilling to let the subject go, I don’t want to push or cross his boundaries for my own satisfaction. So, instead, I breathe out deeply though my nose and give him a soft smile.

I cup his face again, running my fingers along his jaw, fingertips warming up as they graze over the rough stubble starting to form. “Let me make it up to you.”

He closes his eyes and leans in, the heavy sigh combined with a hum hardly masking the high-pitched whimper underlining his response.

“You’re still in pain,” I say, my voice distant and hollow. Again, I don’t want to push his buttons, but neither do I want to pretend as if nothing is the matter.

A bit.

To show or, rather, try to convince me he’s fine otherwise he kisses the palm of my left hand and nuzzles into it. Hurt as he might be, he once again tries to beat around the bush because he doesn’t want to worry me. It should never be about him. After all, he is simply Chris.

A guy who is always fine.

But how fine is fine?

“How about a massage?” I offer, hoping he’ll bite and I can tuck him back into bed. There is no way he is going back to work until he has fully recovered from what has taken over him. That he won’t tell me his secret or what made him come home as he did I can live with. Withal, I can’t bear the thought of knowing he’s hurt and I didn’t make an effort to help.

He nods, but throws a doubtful look to the side.

Into the mirror.

“I meant what I said.” He tries to cover up the slack expression on his face, gaze averted to gather his thoughts about how to do so before he dares to look at me through his lashes, ears tinged red. “I do like you better when you’re scruffy.”

A huff fakes disagreement. However, his true feelings show in the pearly teeth biting down on the plush bottom lip. The rosy flush on his cheeks also gives away that the compliments affects him more than he’s willing to admit.

I weave my fingers through his and give them a soft tug. “Let me take care of my werewolf.”

A sickly sense chills me when his hand slips from mine. My stomach folds itself at the thought that the well-meant words have gone from loving to negative in his mind.

Fortunately, the opposite is the case since he simply needs both hands to sign his response.

A phrase which elicits a timid sound from him I’ve never heard him make before. From his throat rises a mixture of a growl and a bubbly giggle, an adorable noise which unleashes a storm of butterflies in my stomach.

Your pet wolf.

I close the distance between us, barely able to suppress the dumb grin threatening to break out on my lips. I reach up to trace the pale tissue of the faded scar running over the width of his big nose before I boop it. “You’re cute. So, so bloody cute.”

He shakes his head, pouting, which adds to the difficulty of not combusting into a ball of fluff on the spot.

I’m weird. Not cute.

“You’re adorably strange.” I can no longer maintain my composure, the last bit of self-control crumbling as a line from the book I read to him during his break between appointments pops into my mind. “You’re entirely bonkers. But I’ll tell you a secret. All the best people are.”

Catching on to the reference, brightening at the memory of sitting in the sun with his head on my shoulder and my hand in his hair, he joins the little game with a clever yet witty response. 

You’re not all there yourself.

“I’m not crazy. My reality is just different than yours.” 

He playfully pokes my head. 

We’re all mad here. I am mad. You’re mad.

“We’re all bonkers, but maybe also a bit in love.”

He raises an eyebrow, evidently thinking ‘a bit in love’ is an understatement. 

I roll my eyes. “A lot.”

Chris giggles in the same strange way as before at the less nuanced statement. He places his hand in mine, his phone in the other, and looks at me expectantly.

It takes a moment to realize what the intention behind the gesture is and for me to remember the offer I made. ‘’Let’s get my pet wolf back to bed.’’

He yawns in response, like a small boy waiting for his mother to tuck him in.

Wordlessly, I lead us back to the bedroom. He bends down to lie on his stomach on the bed. However, despite his best efforts to not let it show, he winces as he lowers himself onto the sheets. 

Arms beautifully decorated with animals in the neo-traditional style wrapped around his pillow, Chris relaxes as best as his body allows him.

I clamber on top of him, sitting on his lower back as I set to work to untangle the knots and lessen the strain on exhausted muscles. His skin feels dry, flakes here and there sitting like snowflakes on his skin.

What the hell?

Odd as it is, I don’t comment on it. What he needs is rest, love, care, and attention. Not being questioned like a man about to be executed. ‘’Hold on, love, I’ll be right back. Just need to get something.’’

I get off of him and move to the bathroom to get his favourite lotion, which smells like pumpkin spice. The store where he buys it only sells it during autumn so once it goes on sale, Chris buys however many bottles he can get. During a recent grocery trip I joked, well, half-joked that perhaps it might be nice to try a different scent every once in a while. Withal, the mere thought of a different smell seemed to stress him out.

I don’t make suggestions anymore.

The bottle in my hand, I climb back onto his back and continue where I left off.

It might be the lingering drowsiness not yet cured by a cup of coffee, but a noise like a low content purring fills the morning silence.

Hands placed between his broad shoulders for support, I lean in to ask Chris whether he hears it too. However, I am given an answer before even asking the question. His nose buried into the pillow and his breathing steady, the tattoo artist is fast asleep and snoring like a content wolf. 

I get off his back again, lie down next to him, and pull the blankets over us. Regardless of being a million miles away and therefore likely not catching on to my presence anymore, I ruffle his hair and kiss his forehead. “Sleep tight, love.”

And stay here a little longer with me. Don’t… don’t go like the wolf pup from my youth.

I glance around the room to discover where he has placed the pluche grey wolf he always carries around with him. It was a gift from Victoria, given to him the day after he moved in with the Van Helsings. He’s never explained more about the stuffie other than that, but it’s clear he is very attached to the stuffed animal. And although I’ve shown multiple times through my words and actions I don’t mind him carrying it around all the time, it still hurts when he gets this shocked expression on his face whenever I walk in on him snuggling with the adorable thing.

Cute black beady eyes peep out from the side of his pillow. I prop myself up on my elbow and fish the stuffie out of its hiding place, my movements calculated and careful to not accidentally wake Chris up. Having retrieved it without a hitch, I place the pluche animal in his arms. Immediately, he curls up like a baby and nuzzles it.

 I slide back under the duvet and turn onto my side, our faces inches apart and one arm hooked in his to make sure no one gets left behind.

I was forced to leave a friend, the first love I never found back.

And I won’t let that happen again to the new one I found in more or less the same place.

Chris stirs and grips the stuffed animal tighter. In spite of being unconscious, his movements are desperate and fast like he’s trying to catch something running away from him. Sturdy arms wrap firmly around my waist, the tattoo artist effectively glueing himself and his pluche buddy to my body. A sad sound holding the middle between a whine and a whimper falls from his plush lips as he further snuggles into me, the poor stuffie getting wedged between us as he tucks his head beneath my chin and places his ear over my heart.

Listening for the one who got away.

I hold him, cradling and shushing him with sweet nothings while my fingers are woven into his hair and caressing it. I can’t say whether it’s a response from his subconscious or because of the lucid dream, but a shy bubbly giggle rises from his throat.

Whatever it is he was looking for, he’s found it. 

[r0-boat]

I already have a breeding kink, and I’m into monster, so Werewolf Ingo is scratching a few itches. Can you please write some smut for him?

Adhhs I have a few werewolf Ingo ask

Here you go you horny maniacs

Smut underneath

Ingo has been acting really strange recently. It all started when he wouldn't be at the training ground at sundown anymore at first he thought he was just busy but then Ingo started to actively avoid you.

The icing on the cake was when you tried confronting him about his weird Behavior and the whole time he didn't say anything, In fact he wouldn't even look at you.. Oh yeah something's definitely up.

Fet up you followed close behind him to see where he was going following him way to Eterna Forest where he seeming disappeared. You were looking at me for him before getting pounced on by...Ingo!

Well sort of it was him but he seems different he had pointed ears and a swishing tail arms were covered in Gray fur with sharp claws. Immediately knowing how you are his ears tilted back "Mc! Why are you here?!" He said? " you're acting weird lately so I followed you out here what happened to you?!?"

Ingo's tail switch to behind him just chest rising and falling... Ugh, your scent is so intoxicating and it's everywhere... Fuck...you smell soo good...so...ferti- Ingo shook his head "you need to leave!" He growled.

Ingo tries to get off of you but your hand holds the sleeve of his coat. "N-no not until you tell me what's wrong."

Ingo opened his mouth to speak but then stopped he smelled something different now something that made his mouth water. A-are you aroused?

"I-every night change forms" fuck it's getting harder to think. "It's been easier to manage until...recently"

"Are you afraid?" Ingo says his ear drooping downward. I know you could never be afraid of Ingo in fact some part of you kind of liked this. You reached up and caressed his cheek. Ingo unable to contain his happy tail whimpers and leans into your touch. "Mc..." he says to you tenderly his hand holding yours " you're tempting me. In this form I have... urges, its maddening to deal with them I have to control myself i-"

"Then dont" you cut him off "kiss me ingo"

His silver eyes shine. Ingo's slams his lips to yours kissing you like like as if tomorrow won't exist.

Ingo slipped tongue inside of your mouth eager to taste every part of you. Rolling and pressing against you a tongue.

Ingo rolls hips against yours rubbing his growing arousal against yours. " This is what you do to me everyday, and every night while my instincts scream to take you to mark you. I tried so hard so back yet here you are offering yourself to me... enough waiting you're mine now" Ingo says in a husky tone

Fuck if you weren't so turned on before you are now... Your eyes trailed to his neck it was bear, to bear for your liking... You felt possessive remembering all the women in men around the training ground who would eye him up.

Ingo was an attractive man and his rough scruffiness just added to his attraction. Licking your lips you put your mouth on his neck licking sucking and nibbling. Ingo moaned rather loudly digging his claws into your Galaxy uniform. Ingo let out an inhuman grow he tore through your Galaxy uniform before taking it off and discarding it " take it all off before I rip those too "

Yes sir didn't have to tell you twice. You stripped for him making sure to put on a little show without going too slow it's for him his silver eyes gazing taking in the sight of your naked body. " keep teasing me, my self-control only last for so long."

Ingo takes off his clothes his coat his hat, Pearl clan uniform, and pants. " I want to fuck you but I really want to taste you." He says. Ingo kisses your stomach all the way down to your wet arousal. You see his tail wag from behind the scent of your heat making his cock twitch. You swear you heard him whimper as he drags his tongue along your arousal. You squirm and writhe as ingo mercilessly sucks and eats you out. Before you could cum on this tongue ingo certainly removes you from his mouth.

"Ingo...whaA-" she took you by surprise he left your legs up putting you into a mating press before slowly sinking his cock inside. "I'm at my limit, I can't! I need you!" He cries. Ingo slid inside perfectly. You fit perfectly around his cock, like you were made for him, just for him.

Ingo digs his claws into the Earth as he begins to move immediately slamming his hips mercilessly against you. You two are the only ones in the forest ingo took full advantage of that. You heard all of his moans, growls, and whimpers as he drills you into the forest floor, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin only added to the heat in your core. You're so close you're going to come on this cock. "I-im gonna-! So close!" You feel something swell against you. You looked and saw something swelling at the hilt of ingos cock. He notices it too but I this point he's too far gone to care the only thing he's registering are his instincts telling him to put whatever that was inside of you to fill you with his pups. To fuck his knot into you and cum.

He forces all of them inside you causing you to cum. Squeeze him, milking him for all he's worth. "Fuck! I'm locked inside of you...thats!... So...." he couldn't finish the sentence before Exploding deep inside you. Filling you up with his thick cum.

You thought you could take a rest but then you feel ingo starting to move again inside of you. "More...i-i need more..."

[oneandahalfwolf]

a very happy birthday to the mun behind @bloodsorceress​. i hope you enjoy this little drabble and have a fab day.  

“So, what do you guys think the new student is going to be like?”

Iley raised her head briefly to look at Mika’s grinning face before going back to her stretches with a slightly exasperated, though begrudgingly fond, shake of her head. She loved her friends, she really did, but sometimes they were so typically vapid it made her miss the snooty students at her old French High School. She never thought the ‘California Valley Girl’ stereotype she had seen in so many American movies could be true. Even if only one of the trio of girls was actually from that area.

“I heard he’s some street dancer kid from England or something,” Evie, the one Californian in the group, responded. Mika’s grin only grew, swinging one leg over the other from where she sat perched on an amp, leaning back as if posing for a swimsuit photo shoot.

“Well...” the blonde drawled in her, surprisingly natural, posh Oxford English accent, “maybe that will give us something in common.”

“Pump the brakes blondie,” Paige, the group’s native New Yorker, interjected. “You’ve not even met this guy yet. You have no idea if he’s even going to be into you.”

“Who could resist me?”

“You want the whole list?” Iley said with a raised brow, her French lilt peeking through her generic American accent. Mika immediately pouted while the other two girls quickly broke into giggles. Eventually the blonde rolled her eyes and leaned forward, blue eyes fixed on the short brunette.

“Well what do you think then ‘Ley?” Iley gave a half shrug, shifting her body to help Paige with a partnered stretch.

“I don’t have any thoughts. I’m waiting until whoever they are arrives and we actually meet them before making any assumptions.” Evie scoffed.

“God you are no fun shortstack.”

“Well,” Paige said, grunting slightly as the stretch pulled at her muscles, “whoever it is, I heard he was fast tracked all the way into second year. Didn’t even have to audition or anything. Got plucked straight out of whatever school or street corner the Headteacher saw him at.”

“As long as we don’t get a fucking Step Up situation,” Evie sneered, picking at some fluff on her leggings. “I am so not up for that whole fusion bullshit.”

“Open your mind Evie,” Iley said, finally getting up from the wooden floor. “Maybe you’ll actually learn something.”

The other brunette scowled and opened her mouth to argue, but was cut off by their teacher entering the room, clapping her hands to get their attention.

“Alright class, alright class, please get in formation.” The woman waited until her students had lined up before carrying on. “As you’re all probably aware, we shall be having a new student joining us today. They will be arriving shortly after the Headteacher finishes their induction. In the meantime I don’t want us lazing about waiting for them, so everybody get into pairs and begin basic warm ups.”

Iley immediately partnered up with Paige, not in the mood for anymore of Evie and Mika’s gossiping, and followed the rest of the classes lead in starting their exercises. Fifteen minutes later they were on a water break when the door to the studio opened, their teacher greeting the Head immediately. The brunette had her back to the door, busy taking a long drink from her water bottle, but heard every word that was spoken.

“Good morning class.” There were a few echoes of ‘Good Morning Mx Kader’ before the Head continued. “This is Benkai’l Brandr and they will be the new student joining your class today.”

Iley’s head snapped up, not taking in any of the rest of Mx Kader’s welcome speech. That name. It couldn’t be. Her eyes went to the full length war mirror and focused on the new figure standing beside the headteacher. She gasped, her bottle of water slipping from her grasp and falling to the ground almost in slow motion.

They were older. Taller. So much taller. But the eyes were the same. Grey like a stormy afternoon. Skin was still as pale as snow and smattered with freckles. Freckles she used to play connect the dots with when they were four.

Her water bottle hit the wood floor with a loud clatter making everyone look her way, but she didn’t care. She simply turned sharply and openly stared, mouth agape as she tried to form words.

“Noc?”

The new student, who had been staring at the fallen water bottle, looked up at the name. Eyes widened, brows raising towards black hair.

“‘Mira?” came the mumbled reply.

A sob escaped her throat as she brought a hand up to cover her mouth. The room was silent, everyone confused at the turn of events - with some even starting whisper.

It was broken as Iley sprinted forward towards the other teen, crossing the floor as fast as she could. The new student dropped the duffel bag from their shoulder and easily caught the brunette as she leapt at them. Her arms wrapped around their neck as her legs went around their waist, the two seemingly not strangers fitting together almost like a puzzle piece. Like they had been made to be two halves of one whole. The whole class could only stare as they pair spun around, the movement so fluid it looked like a step from a contemporary dance number.  

Iley started to sob into the much taller teen’s neck. They smelt exactly the same. Like fresh paper, burnt wood, and lilacs. One of her hands reached up and cradled the back of their head, fingers fisting the red beanie that was between her palm and their hair, pulling it off slightly. Not that her old childhood friend cared. They were just over the moon that she was here, in the flesh. Tears silently streamed down their own cheeks, feeling completely overwhelmed. But why wouldn’t they - their wildest dream was coming true right now after all.

Eventually Iley finally, though reluctantly, eased herself down off of the taller teen. However one hand remained clutching at their hoodie, fist pressed against their lower back. She swiped at her tears with her free hand, unable to take her eyes off their face. When someone finally broke the silence she had to look away.

“Um… Iley?”

Brown eyes landed on Paige and took in that the whole class was staring at the pair. The brunette cleared her throat, free hand going up to fix her dishevelled hair.

“Sorry. Sorry. This is… We were...” It was difficult to get the words out without crying all over again. “This is my best friend. We used to dance together as kids until I had to move away. We haven’t seen each other in ten years.”

A chorus of understanding and awed noises came from the surrounding class. The Headteacher cleared their throat, a strange smile on their face - almost like they had known and a plan had come to fruition, the twinkle in their eyes adding even more mischief to the expression.

“Well that is a wonderful happenstance. I suppose I shall leave you now however. I hope you can catch up soon, but remember; class first students.”

They nodded to the other teacher before taking their leave. The dance teacher gave the Head a wave before turning to the still pair still locked in what could be seen as an awkward embrace, but the two teens simply looked at ease more than anything.

“So um… Benkai’l wasn’t it? Why don’t you introduce yourself properly?”

“Uh...” The taller teen pulled the beanie Iley had loosened from its perch on their head before they rubbed nervously at the area. “Yeah, I’m Ben. I have danced lots of different genres over the years. Jazz. Tap. Contemporary. Ballroom. Currently though I’m mostly Street and Commercial. I’m majoring in dance here on a scholarship, whilst minoring in backstage and technical theatre. I’m originally from Scotland before we moved to Poland, and now I’ve come here for school.”

Iley grinned. She knew the Polish lilt they had under their Scottish broag had seemed stronger. Much like how her own French one had become more distinct since she moved to that country, theirs had done the same. And now she knew where the hell they’d ended up. Though she was sure there was more to the story. Something she couldn’t wait to find out.

“Well it's lovely to have you in our class Ben. I’m sure Iley can keep you right on how we work.” Iley gave a fervent nod, unable to stop herself from grinning. The teacher smiled before giving a clap and turning to the rest of the class. “Okay then, now we have all been introduced, let’s get back to work. I want you all to be on your best behaviour and perform your heart out for our new family member.”

Iley immediately dragged Ben over to the class side, ignoring the stares from her friends and other classmates, still unable to believe her eyes or let go of them in some capacity until she absolutely had to. Her childhood friend couldn’t help but laugh quietly even as they struggled to remove their hoodie. It was too cute. Besides they were more than happy to keep the girl close. Iley’s three girl friends could only continue to gawk. They had never seen the other girl like this. So.. happy.  

Class had to continue but all parties couldn’t wait until lunch to hopefully get some answers to their burning questions.

***

“What happened?”

Ben rubbed their hands free of salt and grease, swallowing the last of their mouthful of fries before clearing their throat and leaning forward, resting their forearms on the edge of the table.

“There was a fire. Three years after you left. Arson. Everyone’s fine though. Mostly property damage and a few minor injuries. But we had to go into Witness Protection. Change names and move away. Everything happened so fast we either lost your address or it was burned in the fire. I was… I was so heartbroken. I think I cried every night for a month. Mama tried to comfort me, and Tata tried to find you online, but we came up blank.”

“Three years after I moved?” Iley asked, moving back from where she had been leaning her chin on the lid of her drink. Ben nodded, frowning slightly. The brunette laughed, shaking her head. “I can’t believe this. Three years after I moved to England there was some bullshit with my grandparents. We had to go back to France to sort it all out. I wrote to you with the change of address, but obviously it never got to you. You wouldn’t have been able to find us cause we’d left the country.”

“Holy shit.” Ben shook their own head, chuckling in disbelief. “I can’t believe we were so unlucky.” Iley reached over and took one of Ben’s pale hands in her own, running a thumb over their knuckles.

“Hey,” she said softly, waiting until the taller teen met her gaze. “We might have been unlucky then, but we are fucking lucky as hell right now.” Ben chuckled, squeezing Iley’s hand.

“That’s an understatement Princess.” Iley grinned before letting go and grabbing a few of her fries from the table.

"So how are your parents?"

"Good," Ben replied, reaching for their burger. "They all adjusted quickly to the change. I mean Matka and Tata grew up there so they helped when we were confused, plus we'd already been learning Polish since I was wee. Mama and Matka opened a cake shop. Matka does most of the business side while Mama bakes. Papa got a job as a mechanic, while Tata went to work as a tour guide. He loves it cause he gets to wax lyrical about all his favourite places." They swallowed their mouthful and shook their head again. "They aren't going to believe I found you. I can't wait to tell them."

"Same with mine," Iley responded. "When I wasn't getting any letters back from you I got so worried, even more so when some started coming back. To be honest at one point I thought you hated me cause I moved further away, but Maman reminded me that that was likely impossible. Said 'Noc would be more likely to forget a step in your best routine than hate you.'"

"She's right." Ben leant forward, elbows resting on their table and fingers interlaced as they looked at her with a critical gaze, though there was a light twinkle in their eye. "Okay so, we know why I changed my name, but why did you change yours."

"Oh, right. Sorry," Iley replied with a wince, realising she had slipped up. Ben waved it off, that lopsided smile she had missed so much still on their face. "Well for me… Short version is, the crap with my grandparents put a sour taste in my mouth and I didn't want anything to do with them, name included. I brought it up with Maman and she agreed to let me change it, as did Papa and Dad. She was sad but she understood. They've all been really good with using this new one."

“I still can’t believe you picked that name.”

“You’re one to talk,” Iley said with a laugh, leaning over and gently punching them in the shoulder. “I guess… It just fit. It was our favourite book as kids. I mean we used to play pretend all the time, acting like we were the fabled Wolf Prince and Water Princess. Hell we based our best routine on that story.” She gave a shy shrug. “I dunno, I guess I thought if I picked that one then I’d be a bit closer to you in some way.”

“To be honest,” Ben said quietly, “those were my thoughts exactly when I picked mine.”

Iley reached across the table and wrapped her left pinky around Ben’s right. The taller teen smiled and completed the link. Brown and grey eyes just stared at each other for a long while, looking much like a happy romantic couple - even though that was far from the truth. The sound of the door to the fast food joint opening broke the moment.

“I told you she’d be here!”

Iley looked up to see her three girl friends followed by the two boys of their small group - Nate and Jackson. She groaned and collapsed back into her seat. Ben’s brows furrowed and they started to turn in order to look round, but were interrupted by Nate hopping over the back of the booth to sit next to them. Their nose wrinkled as he stole some of their fries. Paige slid in next to Iley while Mika took a seat at the end of the table.

“So this is the new kid?” Jackson asked as he and Evie moved into an adjacent booth. “I hear you and Shorty here are an item? Or were at least very cosy in class.”

“Shut the fuck up Jax,” Iley yelled, trying to drown him out and earning a few glares from some of the other customers. Jackson simply smiled and ignored her, attention still on Benkai’l.

“Well? Are you hitting our little dancer?”

“EW!”

“NO!”

The two answers came simultaneously with almost identical looks of disgust. The other teens couldn’t help but laugh.

“She’s my best friend and my sister,” Ben said, squirming a little at the awful thought still in their head. “I love her, but not like that.”  

“So that means you’re available then?” Mika said with a salacious smile. Ben shuddered slightly.

“Sorry but I’m not interested.” The blonde flipped her hair and shifted in an attempt to show her cleavage to the other teen, smirking whilst she lowered her voice.

“Are you sure?” She batted her eyes. “If you give me a chance, I’m sure I can make you interested.” Iley couldn’t help but snort a laugh at the look on Ben’s face.

“First off I’m asexual so I’m not just not interested in you, its everyone. And second, no offence, even if I was interested...” They paused, face scrunching up as they tried to think of a nice way to put the next part of their sentence but came up blank. “Sorry but you look like one of my mothers.”

Mika’s jaw dropped as a roar of laughter went around the table. The blonde’s face turned a deep shade of red as she sank back down in her seat. Nate was the first to find a new question.

“Wait, mothers as in plural.”

“Yes,” Ben said slowly, brows furrowed.

“Nice.” Paige reached across the booth and smacked him across the side of the head.

“It's not like that. They’re with my Dads too.”

“Oooh, four parents. They have you beat Iley.”

Another round of laughter filled the table, one Ben managed to join in on. Iley was happy to see her newest friends accepting her oldest one. Though to be fair if they hadn’t, she would have dropped them easily for Ben.

“Can’t believe you guys came here.”

“You were the one who skipped out our usual lunch when there was new gossip to be had.” Iley rolled her eyes at Evie

“I dunno, maybe because I wanted to privately catch up with my childhood best friend who I haven’t seen in ten years or spoke to in seven.”

The bickering around the table continued until they had to return to class, and continued still on the walk there. It was too early for Ben to get fully involved but they felt like they had at least been accepted into the group. They were happy to just watch them all interact. Most of all they were happy to watch Iley being so animated and joyful. They were glad she had found that without them. But now they were more than ready to make up for lost time. Starting with some dancing.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Yikes! I thought I sent something for Halloween! How about something with a witch reader who lives in the woods that has werewolf Joseph(or Caesar!) pinning after them? TY

Well here we go, I'll finish part 2 soon

Little red hood pt1

(yandere werewolf Joseph X female reader)

It wasn't often when you got the chance to relax, but when you did you would bath in the river deep in the forest. The fresh crisp water felt so nice against your skin as it gently flowed past. The sound of the birds singing brought you ease.

That was at least until he decided to ruin it. A fair and buff man with scruffy brown hair.

"Will you leave me alone! Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to stare?!" You yelled as you covered your nearly nude form under the water.

"Oh come on, take it as a complement doll" he smugly responded as he leaned against the tree in front of you.

"Don't you doll me you pervert, screw off!" You hissed as you grabbed your clothes and put them on in the water.

"All I want to do is relax and you just want to antagonize me" you continued.

"Don't take it like that sweetheart, I can't help it" he replied with a grin on his face, if you didn't have the self control you did, you surely would have laid a curse on him by now.

You stepped out of the river and went to grab your red hood before he snatched it and held it out of your reach.

"Cute little hood you have, you know there are hungry wolves in these woods that like the taste of pretty women" he mocked you.

"So why don't you scurry along to your dear grandma" he continued, by now you knew what he was comparing to.

"Are you so dense, you mock a stranger over such a small insignificant object, by the way I think it's the safest thing to be wearing in a forest known for hunting" you scoffed at the male as you took your hood back before leaving him behind in the woods, for all you care he could get an arrow shot at him.

🍄🍄🍄

You returned to your cottage deep in the woods. You sighed at the state of your door to see the scratches left from last week's close encounter with a werewolf, attacks had become more frequent in town but somehow one had managed to find you home and attempted to enter.

Time's like that you were lucky to be the daughter of a witch, you had at least some capacity to protect yourself from the supernatural. You held your pendant knowing that your endeavour had drastically drained your magic, you would have to wait for the next full moon to fully restore yourself but with a werewolf lurking in the forest you knew it would be a risk to perform the ritual while you were vulnerable.

 You had been considering to talk to the monster hunter in the next town over for a few days to try and resolve the issue but it was expensive and also put you in risk if she found out about your lineage but now you knew that you had to, once a werewolf found it's prey it wouldn't give up. You prepared yourself for a long trip the next morning

[mistressxgrace]

Never too Soon | G&J

professor-shaw​:

Not like it was anything to be proud of but today was Jason’s first outing in what felt like..honestly? Freaking weeks. Granted most of his confinement had been self inflicted but he was for once set on completing the little list of items Sabrina had requested of him. And on that list was...you got it. Halloween decor. She had not named anything specific, no...pumpkin, funny skeleton or crazy bats, so when he spotted the first display, the werewolf had just barged in without realizing whose store this was, muddy shoes rubbing off on the doormat.

“Grace..” he mumbled, still affected by the woman’s presence. Something akin to awe and plain giddiness. “Didn’t peg you for a halloween type of person. Isn’t that..unglamurous or somethin’?” Damn. How long had it been since they had last seen each other?

Sable eyes flared wide when the door was suddenly flung open and the scent of werewolf filled her shop. Contrasting comically with the dainty chime that also announced the male’s presence. Well well now...what did they have here? It seemed like literal ages since she had seen Jason, and apparently much had changed. Grace was no fool, she had heard of the unfortunate instances that had led to the biggest of his changes. But seeing it in person? It did quite take one’s breath away..

“Professor Shaw” The vampiress returned with a smirk, knowing full well the effect that she had on the man. “My my, how long has it been? I did not know that you could stay away from me for so long” Grace giggled, approaching Jason now to place a kiss to each delightfully scruffy cheek. “And unglamourous? How dare you say such a word to me!” She teased, stepping back to take a good look at him. Delicious..as always.

@professor-shaw​

[morporkian-cryptid]

Supernatural au:

He can be anything from solid to only able to manipulate the sword. Being solid requires concentration but he always keeps a basis level of solidity around the gang

Meaning: lupin can tackle hug him but goemon can also go intangible if he notices the hug and doesn't want to be touched right now (or if he wants to see lupin fall on his face)

I love the idea of the first goemon being a wielder. Goemon doesn't want people to know he is a wielder less sword (so people don't try to claim him) so he needed a name. He choose his first and in his opinion only worthy wielder

Going off the Archetypes and roles... fujiko's seduction makes me think of sirens or succubi and I had the thought of a shapeshifter but then I thought of that Japanese folktale with a spider youkai seducing and eating men in a Forrest and I think fujiko is one of those

Jigen... he is typically a werewolf in monster aus and it does fit his scruffy self but for this one... maybe some cowboy folktale? I don't know any of those. Something that is associated with following one wherever one goes. Maybe he was a curse, a hitman spell, cast on lupin? Some warning maybe, always in the corner of ones eye, meant to drive one mad.

Lupin, of course, asked out the shadowy apparition in the corner of his sight to dinner and together they killed the wizards who cast the spell before he could order jigen to ...escalate.

I dont know exactly what yatagarasu are but smt tells me they are three legged ravens. Yata is one of those for obvious reasons

JSKDJDKSKFJDKLJ okay I know jack shit about cowboy-related supernatural folklore, but the idea of "Lupin promptly asking out the shadowy apparition in the corner of his sight to dinner" is just ABSOLUTELY PERFECT. You, my friend, are the very definition of galaxy brain.

Idk about being a curse, but he could be some sort of shadow creature that people can make deals with, and someone made a deal with him and sicced him on Lupin.

And then Lupin ended up striking a deal with Jigen to have Jigen protect him. The deal is "until Lupin dies", but Lupin being a vampire that might mean a very, very, very long time. (effectively making Jigen immortal as well, because why not.)

Goemon name origin validated. 👍 Also, him going incorporeal just as Lupin is trying to hug him is great. Or Lupin throwing him something to catch and it just goes right through him.

Wait, is Jigen incorporeal too? Or is he just supernaturally good at sneaking?

I've never heard of that spider yokai, but it sounds like a good fit. Another classic for Fuji in supernatural AUs is a kitsune, shape-shifting foxes that can turn into beautiful women to seduce humans (and sometimes they can also curse or outright posses people). I should do more research about that spider yokai, though.

Yatagarasu are indeed three-legged crows, or rather A three-legged crow who is apparently an incarnation of the sun, and who guided the first emperor of Japan to Yamato (idk what Yamato is). The AU doesn't have to stick perfectly to mythology, so he could be some sort of crow spirit I guess. Maybe Zenigata has no clue that his assistant is supernatural (you said he's a vampire hunter, idk what he thinks of other supernatural creatures, but he probably doesn't like them a whole lot)

[vampiricsheep]

Character Profile: Banni

my beloved @bird-bureau inspired me to write up some profiles for the urban fantasy verse and, well, I felt like sketching banni tonight, so here we are! Not sure how many more I'll make since I have pages of my comic to finish and two classes to keep up with, but there's no harm in starting a project that doesn't require finishing. I'm just considering it a nice little practice for now.

profile will be under the cut for lengthiness!

Name: Banni

Pronouns: they/them

Age: mid-20s

Orientation: likes men and masc nbs

Species: Werewolf

_______________

Physical characteristics

human: Scruffy with a perpetual "haunted" appearance characterized by visible tension, jumpiness, and dark circles under their eyes. Their hair has a subtle peak and is brown, straight, and messy; hangs down to roughly chin height. Their eyes are a pale leaf green and their skin is a very light tan. They have a noticable overbite and somewhat buck teeth.

around 4'5" but, due to varying posture and toe-walking habits, may seem shorter or taller situationally. They nonetheless have adult proportions. Their legs are on the thick side, but their wrists are very skinny. Their chest is flat but heavily scarred; they will avoid showing their scars as much as possible.

half-shifted: an almost comically stringy and bony creature somewhere between human and wolf with gnarled hands and ears too long and pointed to look like a wolf's. Can be bipedal or quadrupedal. roughly 5' tall if standing straight (they won't).

full-shifted: a smallish wolf with short but scruffy blonde fur that looks white in poor light. Proportions similar to a red wolf. Due to size and proportions may be mistaken for a coyote or dog to the untrained observer.

accessories: Banni has two gold rings in the cartilage of their right ear. They wear or carry a plain canvas backpack of average size but large for them.

attire: Due to height they struggle to find clothes that fit, so most things they wear will look quite loose. They prefer hoodies or tees and shorts; most pants that would fit their legs are far too long. Typically they'll wear neutral colors and soft greens, but their attire is whatever they can find, and their wardrobe is restricted to whatever they can fit in their backpack without taking up needed space. Banni does not wear shoes; their feet are calloused enough to tolerate most conditions and they can't afford the additional weight in their bag.

_____

Abilities:

Banni can transform into full or partial-wolf at will, and retains full cognitive function. The transformation is physical and does not take clothes with it, so they have to work around placing their outfit and backpack between full transformations.

Banni can also merge with their wolf companion. Doing so will always affect them physically:

if remaining human - eyes become yellow, ears become pointed and furred, hands and feet become clawed and a little gnarled

if half-wolf - a foot taller, muscular, and red eyes instead of green

if full-wolf - larger, stronger, with darker fur and yellow eyes instead of green

These abilities are innate and cannot be transmitted.

___

Behavioral/Physiological Characteristics:

Banni is never far from their animal companion, a large arctic wolf named Moss. If for any reason Moss would be prohibited from somewhere they enter or would attract too much attention, Banni will merge with him, then Banni will pull their hood up and sleeves down to hide the tells.

When they're comfortable around people in-the-know, they may accidentally partially transform without realizing it (e.g. human with wolf ears or tail).

They tend to walk on the balls of their feet and leaning or slouching forward with arms close to the chest or a hand on their wolf companion's shoulder.

Banni is incredibly nearsighted and does not use sight aids, so they typically bring objects close enough to touch their nose if they need to examine details or read. Reading gives them a headache for this reason, but they are still quite literate and have a large vocabulary they don't often use.

They are so soft-spoken that their voice is best described as a whisper, and they struggle to effectively raise it.

__________

Personality:

Banni is shy but happy to talk to anyone who becomes a regular welcoming presence. They both long for true love and are terrified of seeking it out. Banni is polyamorous, and worries that that complicates their chances as well. They don't immediately trust people who are friendly or flirtatious with them despite wanting that attention, but they warm up with time.

Banni is indeed haunted by their past, and struggles to shake the scars of events and people they refuse to discuss. If pressed for details, they shut down and may even flee if the subject isn't changed.

They have a heightened flight response, and intense stress may result in them fleeing and hiding until they've had enough time and distance to calm down or a sympathetic individual is able to communicate with them appropriately.

Banni [like myself] has bipolar and is prone to irrational behavior and mood swings if situations are too stressful for them to practice self-stabilizing techniques.