#there are two wolves (aggression and fear)

[babsaros]

dear season

[hellodaekko]

so wolves are generally more vocal than dogs are. They yelp, whine, growl, snap etc to communicate and that can be pretty scary outside looking in but these behaviors aren't necessarily aggressive depending on their posture/body language. The first time Angel and Babe witness this kind of language amongst the shifters of the pack it freaks them out. Their only frame of reference for canine behaviors are just normal dogs, so when they first witness Milo snap at Asher in their wolf forms they almost jump because HEYYY that's two gigantic wolves seemingly getting less-than-friendly with each other and there's some whining and growling and small barks mixed into it. Babe's initial reaction is to run and check on Asher but they hold back because it is two gigantic wolves interacting with each other. Doesn't matter if they know that these are actually still people or not, there is that innate sense of fear for them of "that looks like a wild animal, it sounds like a wild animal, it feels like a wild animal and I shouldn't get near that". But despite this, they notice that their tails are wagging loosely the entire time and it's a little confusing. Angel is also a little shocked by it initially until David shoves himself in-between the two and immediately Asher is trying to lick his face and Milo falls onto his back, belly up and their tails are still wagging. There's a lip curl from David as Asher keeps shoving into his face and eventually he just?? Bites Asher's muzzle?? It's more like holding his muzzle in his own mouth but Angel turns to Babe and is like "I have no clue what's going on but I think they're just playing" The two confirm with their respective mates that they were, indeed, just playing. Along with the million tiny nuances of the rest of their behaviors. That's just what communication from an outside perspective looked like. Sweetheart has more experience among the shifters so they knew that already, but its also because they were a nerdy animal kid growing up so they had a good idea of what communication amongst a wolf pack looked like. They were very pleased to find it still applied to shifters.

[muiitoloko]

The Judge’s Daughters

Summary: In a house ruled by discipline and order, chaos arrives in the form of twin newborns, a rebellious child, and a defiant wife. Judge Turpin finds himself confronting something far more terrifying than the courtroom—fatherhood.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

First and Second part here.

Also read on Ao3

The afternoon sun struggled to pierce the thick curtains drawn across your chamber windows, leaving the room bathed in a dim, amber haze. The fire burned low in the hearth, and the air carried the stale, heavy scent of milk, linen, and woodsmoke. Somewhere downstairs, the grandfather clock chimed the hour, and the sound of a piano played, but you barely heard it over the squalling chorus in your chest.

“Good Lord, Sophie,” you muttered, voice strained as you shifted one twin higher in your arms, her tiny mouth latched ferociously to your breast. “You’ve nearly drained the left one dry, sweetheart.”

Sophie grunted in reply, eyes shut tight, her little fingers clawing desperately at the fabric of your dress as if she feared it might disappear altogether. Her sister, Belladonna, showed no greater restraint—her legs kicked beneath the blanket, arms flailing, as she nursed with equal ferocity from your right.

“They feed like wolves,” you sighed, shoulders slumped against the headboard, your hair pinned half-heartedly behind your ears, sweat clinging to your brow. “Truly. Like they’ve not eaten in a month, not four hours.”

Across the room, Turpin sat stiffly in a carved mahogany chair, one leg crossed over the other, a folded legal brief resting in his hands. His dark waistcoat was immaculate as ever, his white shirt cuffs crisp, and the silver buttons of his vest caught the firelight like coins. He had not looked up in some time, eyes narrowed behind his lashes as he studied the document with the same ruthless scrutiny he gave to every indictment that crossed his desk.

At length, he shifted. One thick, ringed hand lifted to scratch his temple, and he muttered without looking, “They take after me, clearly.”

You glanced at him, one brow arched as Sophie hiccuped against your breast. “Oh? In what regard? Appetite, or aggressiveness?”

His mouth twitched at the corner, but he did not smile. “Both.”

You snorted softly, breathless, adjusting Belladonna who had begun kneading your other breast with alarming fervor. “I shall pray their future husbands are strong of back and patient of soul.”

Turpin grunted. “Pray they marry at all, at this rate. Those two will devour the dowries before their teeth come in.”

You let your head fall back against the bedframe, a breathless laugh escaping. “They’re monsters. Lovely, demanding little monsters.”

That finally earned a glance. Turpin lowered the document slightly, his hazel eyes cutting toward the bed. The firelight painted him in gold and shadow—his hooked nose sharp against the outline of his cheek, his jaw tight beneath the bristle of his greying beard. He studied the sight before him without a word: your body half-reclined, one breast exposed to each hungry babe, your dress bunched at the waist, your skin flushed from heat and effort. You looked exhausted. Soft. Wild.

And strangely, profoundly… powerful.

“They’re thriving,” he said quietly, after a pause. “You’ve… kept them strong.”

You blinked. He so rarely praised. When he did, it was like thunder rumbling in a valley—deep, unexpected, and never without weight.

You looked down at the girls, still latched and sucking noisily, oblivious to the moment unfolding above them. “They’ve left me no choice,” you murmured. “If I sleep too long, they scream. If I eat too little, they scream. If I wear anything with buttons…”

You gestured at your open bodice and stained chemise. “They scream.”

Turpin’s gaze dropped lower. To your breasts. To the red marks from tiny fingernails, the sheen of milk across your skin, the faint bruising from earlier attempts to pry them apart when both insisted on the same side.

His expression shifted—just slightly. Not desire. Not amusement. Something more complicated. Possessiveness, perhaps. Or awe. Or confusion at the raw, unfiltered intimacy of your body doing what his could not—nourish, soothe, sustain.

“They are greedy,” he said at last, voice gravel-thick.

“They are yours,” you replied, meeting his eyes.

He didn’t answer. Just watched, silent and unreadable. Belladonna finally pulled back with a gurgling sigh, her cheek slick with milk, eyelids fluttering. You reached for the linen cloth beside you, dabbing at her chin. Sophie followed not long after, smacking her lips with a grunt and then promptly beginning to wail as if the world had betrayed her.

“For the love of—” you hissed, shifting awkwardly to sit up straighter. “They’re never satisfied. It’s like they have hollow legs.”

Turpin rose from the chair with a fluid, deliberate motion, setting the brief aside. He crossed the room slowly, the floorboards creaking under his boots, stopping at the edge of your bed. You looked up at him, unsure what you expected. A command? A complaint? A dismissal?

Instead, he reached down.

Not for you, for Belladonna. You blinked as he lifted her—clumsily, stiffly—but with a care that surprised you. She squirmed once, then settled against his chest, her tiny fist grabbing hold of a button on his waistcoat. His large hand cradled her awkwardly, as if holding something breakable. For a long moment, he simply stood there, staring down at the child in his arms.

“She has your nose,” you said softly.

His hazel eyes flicked to yours. “Pity for her, then.”

You smiled faintly. “It’s a noble nose.”

“Hmpf.”

Sophie whimpered, still fussing at your breast. You shifted to lift her too, pressing a kiss to her damp brow. “They’re restless. It’s the weather, I think. The heat.”

Turpin made a noncommittal sound in his throat, rocking slightly on his heels, still watching the infant in his arms as if she might transform into something legible. His fingers twitched once, adjusting his hold, then—very quietly—he spoke.

“She will not be wed to a fool.”

You looked up. “I beg your pardon?”

He didn’t glance at you. “She. Clara. Margery. All of them. They’ll not be sold to the first dull-witted fop who can string together his father’s name and a title.”

You stared, stunned.

“God willing,” he continued, “they’ll have strength in them. Fire. Like their mother.”

You blinked. “My lord, I—”

“Do not mistake me.” He turned, meeting your gaze head-on, voice firm. “I’ll have legacy. A name to pass. But not at the cost of shackling them to dullness. I will choose carefully.”

You stared at him—this man who had once cursed your womb for not producing sons—and felt something shift. Not redemption. Not warmth. But maybe the first, quiet stone in the foundation of something less cruel than before.

Belladonna yawned against his chest.

And you whispered, “Thank you.”

You gathered the edge of your bodice with one hand and, with the other, guided the fabric back over your breast, tucking it closed with practiced efficiency. Sophie had finished feeding, the softer of the twins, her little head now resting against your shoulder, warm and damp with the heat of her effort. She was heavier than she looked, all milk and sleep and twitching fists, her breaths now shallow and even against your throat.

You rocked her gently, back and forth, your eyes half-lidded with weariness. The bed creaked softly with each movement, the fire casting low gold across the sheets. Across the room, Turpin paced.

Belladonna lay nestled in the crook of one thick arm, her cheek pillowed against the dark fabric of his waistcoat, one pudgy fist still gripping the edge of a silver button. The fire cast flickers of light up the walls, but his attention drifted toward the faint strains of music echoing from below.

Downstairs, the piano chimed softly—hesitant scales, pauses between chords, the uncertain cadence of children learning. The new tutor played along, guiding their hands from the keys with gentle correction. Turpin had hired the man himself. A former organist from Bristol, soft-spoken and dull as chalk, but disciplined. The sort who would not tolerate laziness. Annabelle was already progressing. Clara, less so. Margery had no patience for the instrument at all, but he made her sit through it regardless. She would learn structure if it killed her.

Belladonna stirred, her dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks. Turpin looked down at her, the line of his hooked nose casting a long shadow over her tiny face. Her eyes opened slowly—hazel, unmistakably his—and she blinked up at him as though confused by her own existence.

He raised a hand and traced the pad of his thumb along her soft cheek. “You are quiet today,” he muttered, voice low and rough, more to himself than to the child. “That’s unusual.”

Belladonna blinked again. And then—like a cannon in a cathedral—she let out the most ungodly, explosive fart Turpin had ever heard.

He froze mid-stride. The room went dead silent.

Belladonna smiled. It was not an innocent smile. It was triumphant. Gleeful. She gurgled in delight, legs kicking against his waistcoat as though she’d just completed some spectacular feat of acrobatics.

Turpin stared down at her, utterly horrified.

You, still propped in bed with Sophie dozing at your chest, let out a startled laugh. Not loud, not mocking—just soft and breathless, the kind of sound one gives when the world cracks slightly off its axis.

Turpin turned slowly, his expression one of deep offense. “That child,” he said, crossing to you with the heavy gait of a man bearing tragic news, “is impertinent.”

You bit your lip to suppress another laugh, but your amusement faded as you looked down at Sophie, whose lips twitched in sleep. The firelight caught the sheen of sweat on your brow. Your shoulders sank just slightly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, brushing a hand over Sophie’s fine hair. “For their noise. For their stubbornness. For…”

Your voice faltered.

Turpin paused at your bedside, Belladonna tucked against him, her tiny head resting just above his heart. He looked at you in silence for a moment, his gaze slipping from your tired eyes to your curved shoulders, the way you cradled the baby as though apologizing for the shape of her existence.

He sat beside you slowly, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. Belladonna squirmed but settled again, one small hand stuffing itself into her mouth. She began to suck on her fingers contentedly, oblivious to the tension in the room.

Turpin looked at her for a long moment, his baritone quiet when he finally spoke. “I’ve failed you again.”

You looked up sharply.

He did not meet your eyes. His gaze remained on the child in his arms. “I promised I would try. To change. To earn something more than obedience. But you still speak to me like I’m a man who must be endured.”

You said nothing. The fire crackled.

He turned toward you at last, one hand rising to cradle your chin—rough, calloused fingers firm but gentle beneath your jaw. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips—brief, restrained, but not cold. It carried no demand. Just the quiet weight of a man who was trying, in his own terrible way.

When he pulled back, his hazel eyes were steady on yours. “I wouldn’t trade them,” he said, his voice low, steady. “Not one. Not even for ten sons.”

You blinked, lips parting in surprise.

“Well,” he added after a beat, “perhaps Belladonna. She’s foul.”

Your mouth fell open slightly. “My lord—”

But before you could finish, Belladonna—to the horror of all decorum—let out another fart, even louder than the first. This one echoed between you like the roar of judgment itself.

Both of you stared at her. She grinned around her fingers, giggling quietly like a child possessed by mischief itself.

You choked on your own laughter, a hand covering your mouth. “Good heavens—”

Turpin exhaled through his nose, glaring at the infant. “She’s possessed.”

“She’s delighted,” you said, grinning despite yourself.

Turpin looked between you and the baby, his brow furrowed, lips twitching with something perilously close to humor.

It was, perhaps, the first time you’d seen your husband smile without cruelty.

Belladonna burbled again, her face radiant with innocent victory, and Turpin sighed.

“She’ll be impossible to marry off.”

And for once—you didn’t argue. You merely leaned your head against his shoulder, both daughters curled between you, and let the silence stretch. Not fearful. Not tense. Just… warm. The smallest beginning of something new.

But the moment—fragile, tentative, warm in its unexpected stillness—shattered like glass. The door to your chamber burst open with a bang that echoed off the stone walls. Margery stormed inside, red-faced and furious, curls bouncing as she stomped forward in a flurry of laces and petticoats.

“I hate piano lessons!” she screamed, her little voice shrill as a cracked bell. “I hate him! I hate the stupid songs and the stupid keys and the man smells like boiled onions!”

You barely had time to lift your head before the governess skidded into the threshold, panting, her spectacles askew and cheeks flushed with mortification. “Miss Margery!” she gasped, clutching the doorframe as though she might collapse. “You may not run through the corridors like that—and certainly not burst into the ladyship’s private chambers uninvited!”

Before the poor woman could take another breath, Margery whirled on her heel and slammed the door with all the strength of her tiny frame. The sound cracked like thunder, the wood shuddering in its frame.

The effect was immediate. Sophie startled in your arms and began to wail, the fragile quiet unraveling in a heartbeat.

You flinched, murmuring, “Oh, darling, hush, hush,” as you tried to soothe her, bouncing her lightly against your chest. But she was already red-faced and sobbing, her limbs flailing in protest.

Margery, unbothered by the chaos she’d caused, kicked off her shoes with two violent thuds and flung herself onto the rug with a dramatic groan. “I hate him! He pokes my fingers and tells me to sit like a lady and he said my scales sounded like I was murdering a goat!”

You blinked, half in disbelief, half in grim understanding.

Turpin, however, was not so indulgent. With a grunt, he stood to his full height, still cradling Belladonna in one arm. The firelight caught the stern lines of his face, shadowing the harsh angle of his hooked nose, the dark furrow carved deep between his brows. His hazel eyes, so recently softened, were now sharp as razors.

“That is enough,” he barked, voice like a crack of thunder. “Rude girl! You burst into this chamber unannounced, slam the door, wake your sister—and for what? To rant about scales and stink?”

Margery froze mid-writhing. Her head lifted. Her lip trembled—but her back remained defiantly straight.

Turpin took a step forward, still holding Belladonna with one powerful arm. “You are lucky I have this child in my arms,” he growled, “or you would already be bent over my knee for that display.”

“My lord, please—” you rose swiftly from the bed, Sophie still clutched against your chest, her cries beginning to quiet beneath the rhythm of your rocking.

You stepped between them, your body shielding Margery, your voice low and urgent. “She’s only four. She's tired. Overstimulated. Please don’t frighten her.”

Turpin did not so much as glance at you. His eyes remained fixed on Margery, who now sat upright on the rug, fists clenched in her lap, chin jutting forward like a soldier awaiting judgment.

“It is past time that girl learned some manners,” he snapped. “When I was her age, I could not speak in my father’s presence without permission—else I’d find myself bent across the arm of a chair with a strap at my back.”

You placed a hand gently on his sleeve. “And did that make you kind, my lord? Or merely silent?”

His jaw clenched. Belladonna shifted in his arm with a gurgle, oblivious to the tension.

Margery sniffled. “I don’t want to play the piano anymore,” she muttered, the bravado bleeding out of her voice.

Turpin’s eyes narrowed. “Then you’ll play it twice as long tomorrow.”

Margery burst into tears.

You inhaled sharply, clutching Sophie tighter as you reached for calm, though your patience wore thin. “Richard—”

“She will not grow into a brat,” he cut you off, baritone cold and final. “She is my daughter. I will not raise a child who storms through doors, slams them behind her, and behaves like a lunatic. The staff already whisper. I will not have them laugh.”

“She’s four,” you said again, more firmly this time, standing taller. “A child. Not a court clerk. She’s allowed to feel overwhelmed.”

“Then she will learn to control it.” His gaze turned back to Margery. “Stand up.”

Margery shook her head violently, curls whipping around her face. “No!”

Turpin’s eyes flashed. “Stand up when I speak to you, girl!”

“She’s frightened,” you snapped, stepping fully in front of her now. “And I will not have her beaten for being a child. Not while I live.”

The room fell silent.

Sophie sniffled softly against your chest. Belladonna wriggled in his arm.

Turpin’s mouth tightened. Then, after a long, simmering moment, he turned—sharp, curt, controlled. “Put them to sleep,” he said over his shoulder, baritone grating low. 

And with that, he stormed from the chamber, the door slamming shut in his wake—just as hard as Margery’s had.

You closed your eyes. Behind you, Margery sniffled again. “Am I going to be punished?”

You knelt down slowly, gently rocking Sophie in one arm while reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind your daughter’s ear. “Not tonight,” you whispered.

“But Papa’s angry.”

“Yes,” you said softly. “But Papa is often angry. It doesn’t mean we stop trying.”

Margery’s voice was small, but steady. “I didn’t mean to wake the baby.”

“I know,” you said, pressing a kiss to her brow. “I know.”

And for the first time that day, the room was quiet again. But the storm—both within and without—was far from over.

The moment the door to your chamber shut behind him, Turpin’s voice rang out down the corridor, sharp and unmistakable.

“Bennet,” he barked. One of the footmen—young, nervous—came scrambling from the shadows of the hallway.

“My lord?”

“Take the child.” He shifted Belladonna into the boy’s arms without gentleness but not carelessly either. “Bring her to the wet nurse. Tell Miss Fields to ready the nursery for the evening.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Turpin didn’t wait for confirmation. He turned back to the drawing room with the heavy tread of a man who had tolerated far more than he ought. Clara and Annabelle stood frozen near the door, silent as church mice, eyes wide and wary.

“To your rooms,” he commanded.

Annabelle grabbed Clara’s hand and gave a quick curtsy before pulling her sister with her toward the stairs. The silence they left behind was as thick as oil.

Turpin turned to the maid still stationed awkwardly near the hearth. “Send word to her ladyship,” he snapped. “Tell her to report to my office. Immediately.”

The maid’s eyes widened. “At once, sir.”

When you arrived minutes later—still flushed, gown hurriedly adjusted, Sophie finally laid down in the cradle—you found him standing near the window, his back to the room, sleeves rolled to his elbows, jaw tight. His desk was cleared save for a single ledger and a half-finished letter bearing the family crest.

The door clicked shut behind you. “My lord,” you began, tone tentative, cautious, “I came as you asked—”

His voice lashed through the room before you could finish. “How dare you.”

You stiffened.

He turned slowly, his face thundercloud dark, lips pressed into a thin line, hazel eyes flashing beneath the lamplight.

“How dare you undermine my authority before the child,” he growled, each word clipped and measured. “You presume to challenge me? In my own house? Before my daughter?”

Your heart thudded in your chest. “I didn’t mean to. Richard, I swear—”

“You corrected me,” he snapped, taking a slow, menacing step toward you, “in front of her. You positioned yourself between us, as though I were the threat, not the lesson. As though I needed a wife to temper my discipline.”

“She was frightened,” you said, breath catching. “I only meant to calm her—”

“And in doing so,” he snarled, closing the space between you in three strides, “you cast me as a tyrant. Before a child who already defies me without consequence.”

He reached for you then—not with a slap, not with raised voice—but with a firm, punishing grip. His fingers clamped around the back of your neck, yanking you forward with force enough to send your balance teetering. His other hand caught your thigh and hoisted your leg up against his hip, caging you with his body, the desk pressing into your spine.

You gasped, gripping his arms for support. “My lord—!”

“Be silent,” he hissed, his baritone a low snarl in your ear.

And then his mouth crashed into yours—rough, brutal, a kiss not born of tenderness but possession. His lips were hot and demanding, teeth grazing your lower lip, his hand at your neck holding you still as though daring you to pull away.

You didn’t. You couldn’t. Your leg trembled around his waist as he pressed forward, his chest heaving against yours, his hand gripping your thigh so tightly you’d bear the bruises come morning. Your fingers clawed for purchase at his waistcoat, the fabric pulled taut over the bulk of him as he deepened the kiss—hungry, punishing, filled with fury and something else beneath it.

Need. Not just for your body. For control. For understanding.

He tore his mouth from yours with a growl, his forehead resting against yours, breath ragged.

“You do not defy me,” he rasped. “Not before the servants. Not before the children. Not even here. You are mine. And when I speak, you listen.”

Your voice was barely a whisper. “I only meant to protect her.”

He growled again, and this time his hand slid from your neck to your back, gripping your waist and hauling you up fully onto the desk. His body pressed between your thighs, pinning you there, the solid weight of him like stone, and his mouth descended once more—this time slower, deeper, but no less desperate.

“You protect them because I allow you to,” he muttered into your mouth. “But you will not rob me of their respect.”

You whimpered as his mouth moved down your throat, rough stubble scraping your skin, and you held him tighter to keep from falling.

Turpin didn’t give affection. He gave force. He gave dominance. But this—this was something else. Punishment laced with hunger, command softened by a flicker of need.

He pressed his forehead against yours once more, his voice low, bitter. “Say you understand.”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes… yes, my lord.”

He kissed you again, teeth scraping your lip.

“Good,” he growled. “Now behave like a wife.”

The weight of him pressed down as his hand slid beneath your skirts, fingers rough and unrelenting as he pulled your drawers from your hips and tossed them carelessly to the floor. One shoe followed—flung somewhere into the dark, the second barely clinging to your heel as he gripped your thigh and pushed it higher. His breathing was ragged already, wine-warmed and laced with something harsher, something bitter and demanding.

You watched him through half-lidded eyes, chest heaving as he stepped back just enough to unfasten his trousers, his expression unreadable save for the flare of heat in his hazel eyes. He spat into his hand—low, crude—and wrapped his fist around his cock, stroking it slowly as he looked down at you sprawled across his desk.

He stepped forward, one hand guiding himself as the other braced against your thigh. But before he pressed in, he paused—just long enough to realize.

You weren’t ready.

Still dry.

His lips curled in a low sound of irritation. “Hmph.”

Then he lowered his hips and slid the thick head of his cock through your folds—not entering, just coaxing—back and forth, slow, insistent, letting the wet gather from your own arousal as it bloomed beneath his teasing.

You bit your lip, your back arching instinctively. “I—I’m trying—”

“I know,” he rasped. “You always do.”

The slow drag of him continued, teasing your clit, nudging the entrance, then retreating. Your body pulsed, breath catching, your hands clinging to his arms as you felt the ache return—stronger, hotter. And finally, finally—he felt it too. The damp. The heat.

His mouth found your neck, pressed firm and lingering against your pulse as he whispered against your skin. “Five daughters,” he murmured, voice a low purr, “and I still can’t get enough of you.”

You whimpered softly, your face buried against his shoulder as he pushed the head of his cock inside you—slow, deliberate. Your walls stretched around him, slick and hot, as he filled you inch by inch.

“Even when you disobey,” he growled softly, “even when you undermine me in front of the children…”

Your fingers tightened on his back. “She’s four, Richard.”

“I know how old she is,” he snapped, though his voice lacked its usual bite. “But she cannot go on like this. Rude. Wild. If not I, then her husband will punish her—and far less kindly.”

Your breath hitched.

“She’s four,” you said again, firmer this time. “And she loves you so much. Do not make her fear you.”

His thrust stilled for a moment, buried deep. You could feel the heat of his breath against your ear, the tension in his shoulders.

“I love her too,” he said at last, voice quieter. “But that doesn’t mean I can afford to let her grow weak. Society will not be gentle. And I will not—” he broke off, jaw clenching.

You shifted beneath him, your arms softening around his shoulders. “This is why she has her father,” you whispered. “To protect her. To teach her she needn’t be afraid of any man. Least of all the one she loves most.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then—his voice dropped low, deeper than you’d heard it all night. “I won’t always be here.”

That caught you. He didn’t look at you. Just kept his forehead pressed to yours, his hips moving slowly, steadily, grinding deep into your heat.

“I’m not young. Not invincible,” he muttered, each word like a stone placed carefully into a grave. “There will come a day—God help me—when she is left to the mercy of some suitor. Some fool with money and land and fists he doesn’t keep to himself. And if I’ve not prepared her—if I’ve left her soft—then it’ll be her blood I find on someone else’s hands.”

You exhaled, long and shaky—the breath you hadn't known you'd been holding. So that was it. It wasn't just anger; it wasn't pride.

It was fear.

The man who ruled courts, who passed sentence with a flick of his wrist, who made you tremble with a glance—he was afraid. Of not being there. Of not being enough. Of losing her.

You reached up, your fingers threading into his white-streaked hair, pulling him closer, letting your lips brush the side of his face. “She’s your daughter,” you whispered. “She’s already strong.”

He groaned, thrusting deeper, his cock hitting a place inside you that made your eyes flutter shut. “She gets it from you,” he rasped.

And then he kissed you—not rough, not punishing. Just quiet. And for a long time after, he didn’t speak again. He simply moved.

And this time, it wasn’t to punish. It was to hold. To stay. To make sure you—and the girls—knew that he was still here.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, teeth gritted, his voice low and guttural against your skin. “If any man,” he growled, “so much as lays a hand upon one of my daughters—”

You shivered, but not from fear.

“I will have him dragged through court,” he went on, baritone like thunder. “He will be tried. He will be found guilty. And I will make certain the sentence is not swift.”

You whimpered softly as his hips shifted, grinding slow and deep within you, his hand splayed over your belly possessively.

“I will ruin him,” Turpin muttered, his nose buried beneath your jaw, the stubble of his beard scraping your skin. “I will strip him of name, of fortune, of peace. And then I will kill him. Quietly. Legally. I have the means. The power. And the will.”

You gasped, your body clenching around him. “Richard—”

“They are mine,” he snarled, one hand tightening on your thigh. “My girls. My blood. And if any man dares—dares—to touch what belongs to me…”

He pressed a kiss beneath your ear, hard and punishing. “Then let God have mercy, for I shall have none.”

Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut, hips pushing back against him instinctively.

You had never felt wetter. Never. It wasn’t just the vulgarity of it. It was the absolute authority in his voice—the feral protectiveness that turned his cruelty inward, re-shaped it as something dangerous but almost noble. It wasn’t tenderness, no. It was possession. It was fury. It was love, stripped of softness and clothed in iron.

And it made your pulse race.

“I will see to it personally,” he whispered, voice now low and tight with control, “that any man who dares dishonor my daughters has his name struck from record, his assets seized, his bones crushed in some forgotten alley where even the Beadle won’t think to look.”

He thrust into you then—slow, firm—like punctuation to a sentence of death. You cried out, your fingers clawing at the desk’s edge.

“Do you hear me?” he hissed. “They will never suffer. Not while I live. And not while you draw breath to speak their names.”

“I hear you,” you gasped, trembling.

“Good,” he growled, voice thick with pride, with rage, with some twisted, burning thing that bound you to him forever. “Then take what’s mine, wife. Take all of it.”

And you did.

Because how could you not?

When the devil himself vowed to tear the world apart for your daughters.

Later that evening, after the nursery had quieted and the halls of the manor had sunk into their usual hush, Turpin stood before Margery’s bedroom door with a heavy frown carved into his brow. One hand lifted, curled into a fist, and knocked—firm, measured. Once. Twice. Three times.

Silence.

Then, a faint rustle behind the door. A hesitant voice—small, uncertain.

“Who is it?”

He cleared his throat. “It is your father.”

More rustling.

“I—” A pause. “I don’t want to be punished.”

Turpin exhaled slowly through his nose. “Open the door, Margery.”

There was a beat of silence, and then the latch clicked, the door creaking inward just a sliver. He pushed it open gently.

She had retreated back to her bed, curled tightly beneath the sheets, the heavy coverlet drawn up to her chin like armor. Her cheeks were red, her eyes puffy from crying, and her dark curls tumbled messily over the pillow.

The moment she saw him, her face pinched with fear. “Please don’t spank me,” she whispered. “I’ll be good tomorrow. I promise.”

Turpin sighed—quietly, not indulgently. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and crossed to her bed with that slow, deliberate gait that always seemed to shake the floorboards a little more than necessary.

“I am not here to punish you,” he said at last, sinking stiffly onto the edge of the mattress with one heavy hand braced on his knee. “Not tonight.”

Margery blinked at him, uncertain. “Then… why?”

“I came to speak with you,” he said, his baritone low but not sharp. “Because you need to understand some things. And because, Margery, I believe you are old enough now to listen when I explain them.”

She didn’t speak. Only clutched the blanket tighter.

“You cannot,” he began, his tone shifting back toward sternness, “enter rooms without knocking. That is not only impolite—it is dangerous. What if the door you slammed had been your sister’s? Or your mother’s, while she held one of the babes?”

Margery’s chin dropped. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone…”

“And,” he continued, voice firm, “you most certainly cannot slam doors. Not in this house. Not anywhere. That behavior is unbecoming of a lady. And you, Margery Anne Turpin, are a young lady. Do you understand me?”

She nodded. Her lip trembled, and she sniffled once. He watched her for a long moment, then let out another slow breath, some of the edge easing from his shoulders.

“Tell me,” he said quietly, “why did you do it?”

Margery hesitated. Then, softly, “I was mad.”

“About what?”

She shifted beneath the covers. “The piano man. I don’t like him. He pokes my hands when I get the notes wrong. And he says my playing sounds like… like geese being strangled.”

Turpin blinked. “…Did he truly say that?”

She nodded. “He said I was ‘brutalizing the scales like a butcher with bad knives.’”

For a moment, Turpin said nothing. Then, muttering under his breath, “Remind me to speak to the tutor.”

Margery peeked out from the blankets, hopeful. “So I don’t have to learn anymore?”

“No,” he snapped, the sternness returning. “You will continue your lessons.”

Her face fell.

“But,” he added more quietly, “he should not speak to you like that. And he will not again.”

Margery blinked. “You mean it?”

“I do not lie, Margery,” he said. “Even to small, dramatic girls with no shoes and too many opinions.”

She huffed. “I didn’t mean to lose them.”

He gave a low grunt that might have been amusement. “Listen to me.” He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “It is all right to be frustrated. Even angry. But you do not get to decide when rules no longer apply to you. You are a Turpin. That name carries weight. And with weight comes responsibility.”

She furrowed her brow. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he said slowly, “that your behavior reflects upon this family. People watch. People judge. And if you make a habit of slamming doors and shouting at tutors, you will find fewer people willing to offer you kindness in the future. Do you understand?”

Margery fidgeted. “I guess…”

He straightened. “No guessing. Say it.”

“I understand.”

Turpin gave a short nod. Then, unexpectedly, he reached out and brushed one of her wild curls behind her ear. The touch was awkward. Gentle in a way that didn’t quite know how to be.

Margery leaned forward, a little uncertain—then flung her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely.

Turpin froze. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder, the blanket still wrapped around her like a cocoon.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” she mumbled. “I just didn’t want to be bad.”

He rested one large hand on her back—briefly. “You are not bad,” he said. “You are difficult. And stubborn. And exhausting. But not bad.”

Margery giggled.

He grunted. “You’ll be more careful next time?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Good girl.”

He stood then, brushing the creases from his trousers. As he turned to go, she called softly after him.

“Papa?”

He glanced back.

“I love you.”

He didn’t speak right away. Just looked at her—this little whirlwind of a child curled in a sea of blankets, with jam-stained cheeks and a heart that hadn’t yet learned to shield itself.

Then, in a voice so low she almost missed it, he said, “And I—”

He stopped. Cleared his throat.

“…Go to sleep.”

She smiled. And this time, when the door closed behind him, it didn’t slam. Turpin stood in the corridor, the sconces flickering against the stone as he stared at Margery’s bedroom door. Her words lingered in his mind—I love you—so casually spoken, with the ease only a child could manage. He clenched his jaw, exhaling slowly through his nose. It unsettled him, that sort of affection. So freely given. So unearned.

He shook his head and turned, his boots silent on the long hallway rug as he made his way toward the other bedrooms. The older girls, he thought. Annabelle and Clara. They were quiet tonight. Suspiciously so. Not a single creak from the floorboards, not a giggle through the walls.

He always looked in on them when he thought they were asleep—never knocking, of course. He wouldn’t rouse the house just to confirm they’d stayed in bed. They were supposed to be asleep.

He reached the door to Annabelle’s chamber and pushed it open a few inches, the hinges well-oiled and silent. What he saw made his brows immediately knit.

Two figures huddled together in the same bed, the sheets pulled up like a tent, the faint flicker of candlelight dancing from beneath. Small whispers. Then—laughter.

Turpin scowled. He stepped in quietly, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. The candlelight from the hallway hadn’t pierced far; only the faint glow of their smuggled taper illuminated the bed. He moved toward it with slow, deliberate steps.

“—and then,” Clara whispered, her voice hushed and giddy, “the ghost came up the stairs and she heard him breathing, right next to the cradle—”

“Stop it, I’m going to scream!” Annabelle giggled, clutching the blanket tighter over her head. “You’re making me—”

Turpin yanked the sheet up in one swift motion.

The shriek that followed could have cracked the ceiling. Both girls screamed in perfect harmony, their little hands flailing in terror. In the low light, Turpin’s tall frame, harsh features, and candle-glinting eyes might as well have been the ghost they’d imagined.

Annabelle, acting on pure instinct, grabbed the nearest weapon available—a feather pillow—and flung it full force into his face.

Thwack.

The judge stumbled back with a muffled grunt, the pillow connecting squarely with the bridge of his hooked nose. He let out a strangled, pained “Christ Almighty—!” clutching his face as the girls scrambled upright in a panic.

The door burst open behind him, and you came rushing in, oil lamp raised high, eyes wide. “What happened?! I heard screaming—what—”

The light spilled into the room, illuminating the scene in full. Turpin, disheveled and scowling, stood with one hand over his nose and the other held out as if commanding silence. Annabelle and Clara sat wide-eyed on the bed, mouths open in horrified realization.

Clara’s lower lip quivered. “P-Papa?”

Annabelle blinked. “We hit Papa?”

Clara whimpered. “With a pillow!”

You covered your mouth with a hand, stifling a shocked laugh. “Dear God—Richard—are you bleeding?”

“No,” he growled, lowering his hand slowly to reveal red but unbroken skin. “But I may never smell again, thanks to this little night raid.”

Just then, more footsteps pounded up the hall. A maid burst into the doorway, breathless. “My lord! We heard shouting! Is it—oh—”

And following close behind, bare feet padding against the floor, came Margery. “What happened?” she cried, eyes darting to her sisters. “Did a ghost get them?!”

Turpin turned slowly, his hazel eyes narrowing into slits as he caught sight of her feet.

He spoke, very calmly. “Margery.”

She froze.

“What,” he said, each word slow and surgical, “did I say about being barefoot in this house?”

Margery’s mouth opened. Closed. Then: “That… the carpets are full of fleas?”

Turpin inhaled sharply through his nose. “I said no such thing.”

“You could have,” she offered, shrugging one shoulder.

You stepped in swiftly, placing a hand on Turpin’s arm before he began a new tirade. “It was just a story,” you said, trying to soothe both your husband and the now-terrified children. “They weren’t misbehaving. Just… sharing ghost tales.”

Turpin turned back to the bed, eyes narrowing at the two still-cowering girls. “Ghost tales. In the middle of the night. In bed. With a stolen candle.”

Clara raised her hand weakly. “I started it.”

He gave her a long look. Then turned to Annabelle. “And you?”

“I tried to be scared quietly,” she mumbled.

Turpin’s mouth twitched. Whether it was a scowl or a smile, no one could be certain.

“You’re both lucky I didn’t have a heart attack,” he muttered, brushing soot from his waistcoat. “Or that your mother didn’t bring a pistol instead of a lamp.”

You sighed, walking over to straighten the blankets and tug them back into some semblance of order. “I’ll stay with them until they sleep.”

Turpin’s eyes swept the room once more. “Fine. But no more shrieking. And no more pillows to the face.”

Annabelle lowered her eyes. “Sorry, Papa.”

Clara echoed meekly, “Sorry, Papa.”

He turned to leave but paused beside Margery. Then looked pointedly at her feet.

“Shoes. Tomorrow. Or I’ll have you sleep in the stables.”

“Yes, Papa.”

And with that, he swept out of the room, grumbling under his breath—one hand still gingerly touching the tender spot on his nose.

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Pack Chapter 26

Trigger Warnings: Aggression, angst

That night Hyunwoo asked them to leave. They did not appreciate the commotion in his home which Y/N deeply apologised for. They ruined their New Year's tradition all because of Joshua's appearance. When they got back home Y/N called a meeting. She was taking charge because she was worried, but they needed a plan for whatever happened when Chan returned. "I don't know who Joshua is but I think it's some kind of gift. More like a trap. Joshua can lure people in with his touch, his eyes, his voice. When I tried to fight back internally he somehow compelled me to agree with everything he said. Part of me believes it's because he hasn't spent enough time with me to lure me in whereas Chan is vulnerable to him so I want Jeongin to step up as Head Alpha." Y/N breathed out. The wolves looked at each other nervously. Y/N had a point. If Chan was to become unstable then they needed an alpha for the time being but why she chose Jeongin over Hyunjin confused them. "I choose Jeongin to be safer. Chan would expect Hyunjin but if Joshua was involved in my pack and Ateez he may have something against Hyunjin. I want to protect all nine of you in this room." Y/N stated. "There's eight baby." Felix reminded her. "There are nine," Y/N said slowly as she looked at all the wolves.

The wolves stopped breathing. Their eyes widened as they listened for an extra heartbeat. Each of them counted the heartbeats when they heard a subtle little beat of a heart. It thumped slowly. Contently, making the wolves whine. "A pup," Jeongin said nervously as he crouched down to listen to her stomach to hear the little heartbeat. "Well, this changes everything," Seungmin said nervously. Every thought went through his head. Was he going to be a good father? Would the pup like him? Were they going to be naughty like Y/N? "Are you happy with that?" Jeongin asked nervously. He hoped she was. "It's not the circumstance that I wanted right now but we need to protect Chan and everyone else in this room." Y/N asserted. "Agreed, but our pup is here now, that's what matters. Let's not make our little pup feel he shouldn't be wanted," Jeongin stated nervously. He knew it was bad timing but he never wanted his pup to feel they were a burden.

The pressure was there for Jeongin. He didn't expect to be named Head Alpha, but the wolves agreed. It was safer for Jeongin to be than Hyunjin. How it was going to go down when Chan arrived, no one knew but right now their Luna and their pup was the most important thing. Chan would want them to be the most important thing. He swore it before when he was sane. He knew deep down Joshua would get to him and destroy him, but what was to come no one knew.

Even a week later, Chan had still not returned and Y/N was getting worried. Her pup was growing big inside of her and the wolves were getting more protective of her. Two wolves had to be in a room with her at night. They wouldn't risk leaving her alone the bigger she got. Minho and Seungmin were the most protective. They were the most cautious pair. They checked everything: making sure she ate the right food, the bath was the right temperature, the room was the right temperature, and her cravings were there. Felix even stepped up and bought books on what to expect. It was supposed to be pure bliss but it was hell. Y/N cried every night begging for him to come back but he didn't.  Chan never returned. She even sent the wolves out to search but they returned with no Chan.

Three weeks later Joshua and Chan turned up with three other alpha wolves. They circled the house waiting for someone and Y/N worried it was her, but it wasn't her, they were after Hyunjin. Y/N made Hyunjin stay beside her while Jeongin dealt with it. Jeongin wasn't to be feared but today he was. His pack was hurting. His Luna was carrying their child and he wasn't going to let anyone near his family. "You stand in my place Yang Jeongin." Chan sardonically laughed. "Yeah. You failed as a lover, a father, a brother and an alpha. You have no place here anymore." Jeongin said firmly. "That's a shame." Joshua taunted. "We want Hyunjin." "Why? What did he ever do to you?" Jeongin called out. "He has Y/N's soul. Chan will never own his mate. She will never be his. Chan has asked me to get rid of him." Joshua explained but Chan would never do that. Chan would never ask for Hyunjin to be removed or killed. "Bring him here," Joshua shouted.

Y/N held Hyunjin tightly who wrapped his arms around her waist while Minho held his stance, ready to attack. Even Felix was ready this time. He would fight for their child if they needed to. "I will go," Hyunjin said but Y/N stopped him. "Whatever happens to you happens to me so no. We go as a pair." Y/N said but Jisung yanked her back. They could lose an alpha but not her. They wouldn't, but would they lose her? "Hyunjin." Y/N pleaded. Her voice cracked and she wanted to cry. "Trust me on this baby. I'll always come back to you." Hyunjin kissed her on the forehead before kissing her bump. "I want you to be as naughty as your mother. Make havoc. Be the best little wolf you can be." "Jinnie." Y/N called as Jisung and Felix held her as she watched Hyunjin go to the battlefield.

Hyunjin stood there next to Jeongin giving him a nod before walking up to Joshua. The man who caused so many problems. "You leave Y/N out of this," Hyunjin growled. "That's the plan," Joshua stated as he looked at Chan. Chan looked lifeless. He was different. It wasn't him in there. "Time to leave your pack behind." Joshua taunted. Hyunjin gave them one last look before they took him to his death.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @reallychaoticwoo @leezanetheofficial @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @pixie0627

~ Taglist closed due to Tumblr only allowing a certain amount ~

[serapharua]

୨୧ 一 WOLF!&TEAM REACTION TO DEER HYBRID!READER . . !

ot9 &team — GENRE : imagines headcanon hybrid — PAIRING : deer hybrid!gn.reader — WARNING : ok it’s a bit strange idek — REQUESTED : yes :) ☆ — &t masterlist

K :

“The forest doesn’t lie. But it doesn’t tell the whole truth, either.”

The forest was quiet in the way that warned you something had changed.

Birds had gone still. The usual rustle of leaves had settled, even the wind holding its breath between branches. And you, feet half-sunk into soft moss, hands brushing the bark of a tree, felt it before you saw him.

A presence. Low to the ground, steady and watching.

Then a snap of twigs, purposeful, not clumsy.

Your breath caught. You didn’t run. But you didn’t move, either.

He stepped out from behind the trees, tall, sharp, unmistakably predator. His coat was dark around the edges, his hybrid ears flicking once as he paused to watch you, half-shadowed in the dappled light. You didn’t meet many wolf hybrids this deep in the woods. They usually stayed closer to the town’s edge. You stayed further.

He didn’t speak. Not at first.

You could feel the tension from where you stood, stretched taut between you like a pulled thread. He was still, but not relaxed. He looked at you with a gaze like frost on bark, assessing, cautious, not cruel. But it was clear: his instincts were alive beneath the surface.

He wasn’t trying to hide them.

“Didn’t expect to find someone like you out here,” he said finally, his voice like gravel wrapped in snow, low, calm, and guarded.

Your ears flicked back for a moment, but you held your place. “You always talk like that when you find prey?”

He blinked. Something unreadable passed over his face, surprise, maybe. Or curiosity.

“You’re not scared,” he said.

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, watching him just as closely. “I didn’t say that.”

His eyes narrowed a fraction, as if he were trying to read between your words. As if he were listening to more than your voice, your scent, your posture, the way your fingers curled slightly against the bark of the tree beside you.

Wolves weren’t new to you. But this one felt… different.

Not safer. Not gentler. Just different.

“I don’t bite,” he said, almost too casually.

You huffed once. “That’s not really up to you, is it?”

A short silence. Then he chuckled, low, rough, more breath than sound.

There was a shift, subtle but real. The air didn’t loosen, not quite, but it changed. Like two animals circling, not out of aggression, but understanding. The deer doesn’t trust the wolf. The wolf doesn’t know if he wants to be trusted.

But neither turns away.

K’s gaze lingered on you as if trying to place something. Not just what you were, but who. “What’s your name?”

You looked at him, steady. “Will it matter if I tell you?”

“…Probably,” he said, after a pause. “I’m not good at forgetting things.”

He said it like a warning. Or a promise.

You stepped back, not in fear, but in silent retreat, melting back into the trees. But your eyes never left him. And his didn’t leave you.

You were prey. And he was a predator. That hadn’t changed.

But not all hunger was dangerous.

Not all instincts were meant to be followed.

FUMA :

The forest edge was quieter than usual, dappled with fading sunlight and the hush of a wind that carried secrets. Fuma crouched in the underbrush, half-hidden, his silver-tipped ears twitching as he watched you move through the clearing.

Unlike others he’d seen before, you didn’t run. You didn’t freeze, either. You stood still, graceful, alert, cautious, yes, but your gaze met his without fear.

You knew he was there. You had to.

Fuma hadn’t meant to get this close. His instincts had pulled him forward, curiosity twined with something deeper. A pull. A longing. Maybe it was the way your scent clung to the air, fresh like rain and bark and something wild but warm.

He took one step forward.

Your ears flicked, your head tilting ever so slightly. “You don’t have to hide,” you said softly. Not accusing. Not inviting, either. Just… a quiet truth.

Fuma stepped out, slow and unthreatening, hands open and loose at his sides. “You knew.”

You nodded, your hooves barely making a sound in the grass. “You weren’t trying very hard.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, his tail flicking behind him. “Didn’t want to scare you.”

You gave a half-smile, serene and unreadable. “You didn’t.”

Fuma wasn’t used to that. Most prey ran. Most deer fled. But you watched him like you knew the difference between danger and instinct. Like you’d seen it before and learned not to be afraid of shadows.

There was a stillness between you. Not tense, just full. Unspoken understanding. You wouldn’t run. He wouldn’t chase.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, voice quieter now.

“I know.”

Another pause. You turned slightly, like you might go. But then you looked back over your shoulder and added, “But I’m not here to be caught, either.”

Fuma blinked. And then he smiled,just a little, just enough. “Fair enough.”

And with that, you stepped back into the trees, your figure swallowed up by the green. But not gone. Not really. He could still feel your presence, like the way wind moves after something passes through.

You hadn’t run. You had looked him in the eye and chosen your own pace.

Fuma had never wanted to follow someone so badly in his life.

NICHOLAS :

Nicholas spotted you before you saw him. You moved with a skittish energy, quick glances, tense shoulders, legs ready to bolt at the crack of a twig. You were tall, even for a deer hybrid, but there was something compact about your posture, like you were always braced for a threat that might come from anywhere.

He didn’t approach right away. Just observed, his wolf instincts sharpening on your every twitch and flicker. His kind had been bred to chase, to corner, to hunt. But this, this didn’t feel like a chase. It felt like a warning.

He shifted a little too loudly against the bark of the tree.

You whipped around, eyes wide, breath catching. Your gaze locked with his.

“…I’m not looking for trouble,” you said first, voice low, a little defensive. “So if you’re here to mess with me, go ahead and get it over with.”

Nicholas stepped forward, slowly, palms up in a rare gesture of peace. “I’m not,” he said, rough voice cutting through the silence. “I was just watching.”

“Creepy,” you muttered, eyes narrowing. But you didn’t run.

He tilted his head, ears twitching. “You always assume the worst?”

You scoffed. “Always assume the obvious. You’re a wolf. I’m not stupid.”

“Fair,” he said, letting a slow exhale slip past his fangs. “But not all wolves are out for blood.”

“And not all deer are easy to scare,” you shot back, spine straightening even as you kept your weight shifted on your back foot, ready to bolt.

He could feel it: the tension radiating from you. Not fear, something grittier. Wariness hardened into habit. The way someone looks when they’ve had to escape more than once.

“Look,” he said, a little softer now. “I’m not going to chase you. You don’t need to act tough.”

Your eyes flared with something sharp. “I’m not acting.”

He respected that. More than he expected. You weren’t the calm, gentle type he might have imagined a deer hybrid to be. You were all nerves and barbed wire, stubborn as hell, and way too used to fending for yourself.

Nicholas took another step closer, slow and steady. “What’s your name?”

You hesitated, probably weighing whether he deserved it, before you finally said it.

“I’m Nicholas,” he offered. “Not here to be a threat. Just… interested.”

“Dangerous habit,” you said, but your voice was quieter this time.

He let out a breath of a laugh. “Yeah. I know.”

And even though you didn’t smile, not really, something in your posture eased, not all the way, but enough.

Maybe trust wasn’t built in one meeting. But he was willing to keep showing up, slow, steady, not chasing.

Just watching. And maybe protecting, too.

EJ :

It wasn’t uncommon for hybrid communities to mingle now and then, but when Euijoo first saw you, curled under a tree near the edge of the field, your ears twitching in tune with the breeze, he paused.

He didn’t move at first. Something in your stillness caught him. Not fear. Not submission. Just… patience. Like you were watching the world without needing to interact with it. And when his shadow stretched across the grass in front of you, you slowly blinked and lifted your head, not startled, not tense, just… aware.

“…You knew I was there,” he said after a moment, voice soft. Almost shy.

You nodded. “You’ve been watching me for a while.”

Euijoo rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed at being caught. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare. It’s just… you’re a deer.”

“And you’re a wolf,” you replied calmly. Your gaze met his, not defiant, but curious, careful. “We’re supposed to be opposites, aren’t we?”

He stepped a little closer, crouching a respectful distance away. “Yeah. I guess that’s what I was thinking. I thought you’d run.”

“I would’ve,” you said, “if I thought you were dangerous.”

Your voice wasn’t mocking, it was factual. Steady. It surprised him, how sure you sounded. How easily you held his gaze without giving him an inch more than you wanted to.

Euijoo ducked his head, smiling slightly. “I’m not dangerous.”

“Not to me?” you asked.

“No,” he said, earnestly. “Not unless you say I am.”

You didn’t smile, but there was a softness in your eyes now. A faint shift in how your body relaxed against the bark behind you.

Euijoo stayed for a while, quietly listening to the wind with you. He didn’t need to be loud, or charming, or anything else. Just present. And maybe that’s what earned him a spot near you, even if only for the moment.

YUMA :

Yuma wasn’t sure if you were fearless or just reckless.

The first time he crossed paths with you, it was deep in the woods near the stream, where deer were supposed to be skittish and wolves were supposed to be feared. But you didn’t run. In fact, you barely blinked.

“You know,” you said, head tilted as your antlers caught the dappled sunlight, “you’re really not as scary as I expected.”

Yuma blinked, frozen mid-step. “I’m not trying to be scary…”

“Oh?” you grinned, stepping closer instead of away. “Well, you should try harder. You’ve got the whole broody lone-wolf vibe, but it kind of falls apart with those puppy eyes.”

His ears twitched. “I don’t have puppy eyes.”

“Mm. Sure.” You circled him slowly, deliberately, like prey that forgot it was supposed to run. “Big, brown, soft. Totally harmless.”

“I’m not harmless,” Yuma muttered, even as his tail gave an embarrassing little flick behind him.

You laughed, a light, musical sound that made his heart stutter.

He had never met a deer who wasn’t at least a little wary. And here you were, closing the space between you and tugging lightly at the edge of his jacket sleeve, eyes gleaming with mischief. It was dangerous, how you weren’t scared. And yet… he didn’t want to back away.

“Do all deer flirt with wolves?” he asked.

“Only the ones who know how to keep them on their toes,” you said with a wink, already turning to dart back through the trees. “Catch me if you can, puppy.”

Yuma stood stunned for a second, then chased after you, ears pink and heart racing. You were prey. But not the kind that ran out of fear. You ran for the thrill.

And something about that made him chase harder.

JO :

The first time Jo saw you, you were standing just barely beyond the tree line. Still. Silent. Ears twitching toward the forest, your large eyes tracking every shift of wind and branch like you expected danger to come from anywhere.

And maybe it did. Because Jo was a wolf. And you were a deer.

He didn’t move closer. He just watched you for a moment, from where he stood on the edge of the trail, hands in his pockets and his breath coming slow.

You noticed him.

You didn’t bolt.

That was what surprised him most.

“I’m not gonna come any closer,” he said softly, voice low and even. “You don’t have to run.”

Your eyes locked on his, not trusting, but curious. You didn’t say anything, but your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Jo tried again, keeping still so he wouldn’t spook you. His wolf instincts urged him to approach, but something about your stillness held him back.

You tilted your head slightly—like you were assessing him, cataloguing every inch of his body language, every tiny twitch of his tail. After a moment, you finally spoke. Quiet. Careful.

“Why are you here?”

It wasn’t hostile. It was a real question. A deer’s question, one built on years of learning when to run.

“I walk here sometimes. Didn’t expect company.”

You nodded slowly. “Wolves don’t usually say they won’t come closer.”

Jo offered a faint smile. “I’m not most wolves.”

There was a long pause before you answered again. “Good.”

And that was it. You turned and walked away, not hurried, but not slow either. Cautious, like you didn’t quite trust him, but maybe you’d remember he didn’t try to chase.

Jo stayed there a while longer, watching the path you disappeared down.

He’d see you again. He was sure of it.

And when he did, he’d stay just where you needed him to be.

HARUA :

Harua didn’t mean to scare you. Honestly, he didn’t even know you were there, tucked behind the shelves of the tiny library on the hill, holding a stack of books to your chest like a shield.

He rounded the corner a bit too quickly, eyes scanning for his usual table, and accidentally made eye contact with you.

You flinched.

Books nearly toppled out of your arms.

“I—oh no, I’m sorry!” you blurted before he could say a word, bowing slightly, ears flattening in panic. “I wasn’t trying to block the aisle or anything, I swear—!”

Harua blinked, taken aback. “Wait, wait—no, it’s okay,” he said quickly, raising both hands in surrender. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You peeked up at him, wide-eyed. “I didn’t?”

He shook his head, gentle. “Nope. Just… startled each other, I think.”

You gave a breathy little laugh, still nervous, still clutching the books like they might protect you. “Sorry. I get jumpy. I know it’s silly.”

Harua tilted his head, soft golden eyes kind. “It’s not silly.”

You blinked again.

“I’m a wolf,” he added, like it explained something (it did). “And you’re a deer. You’re allowed to be careful.”

You fidgeted, your hooves clicking lightly on the floor. “Even if you’re not doing anything scary?”

He smiled—small, a little shy. “Even then.”

Your ears twitched. “Thank you… um. What’s your name?”

“Harua. And you?”

You hesitated, then gave it with a shy nod, your voice quieter this time. He repeated it gently, like he didn’t want to get it wrong. You looked like you weren’t used to wolves speaking kindly.

“I’ll leave you to your books,” he said softly, already stepping back.

You hesitated. Then, just before he turned away, you mumbled, “It was nice to meet you, Harua.”

He glanced back with a smile, his tail giving one small flick.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

And maybe, next time, you wouldn’t flinch.

TAKI :

The forest trail was empty, until he stepped onto it.

You caught the scent first. Sharp, cool, wild. Wolf.

By the time you looked up, he was already watching you from across the clearing, brows faintly furrowed, as if trying to decide what to make of you.

You didn’t freeze. You didn’t bolt either. You just shifted your stance slightly, like someone deciding whether or not to leave a conversation they didn’t ask for.

“Let me guess,” you said dryly, eyeing his frame. “Big bad wolf routine?”

Taki blinked. “Huh?”

You gestured vaguely at him, unimpressed. “The whole broody stare, quiet approach. You’re either here to chase me or pretend you’re not thinking about it.”

His ears perked, and you could almost see the flicker of confusion in his expression. “What? No, I wasn’t—”

You snorted. “Relax. I’m kidding. Mostly.”

He stood straighter. “I wasn’t gonna chase you.”

“I didn’t say you were,” you said, tilting your head. “But I know that look. You were thinking about something.”

“…I just haven’t seen a deer hybrid around here before.”

You shrugged, eyes cool. “Not many of us like running into wolves. Can’t imagine why.”

Taki gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah… fair.”

There was a pause, charged but not hostile. Just two creatures instinctively at odds, talking like neighbors across a tall fence.

You raised an eyebrow. “So? You gonna keep staring or introduce yourself?”

“Oh! Sorry, Taki.”

You nodded. “Got it. Try not to look like you’re planning to eat me next time, Taki.”

His eyes widened. “I wasn’t—I mean—I wasn’t even—!”

You smirked, amused now. “Relax. I know.”

And you walked past him with your head held high, tail flicking, heartbeat rapid, but your steps steady. Taki turned to watch, ears lowered slightly, lips parted like he wanted to say more.

He didn’t expect prey to talk back.

He kind of liked it.

MAKI :

The woods had gone quiet.

That kind of silence made your ears twitch, alert and uncertain. Something was watching you. Or following. Or both.

You didn’t bolt, not yet. Your hooves stayed rooted to the mossy path, chest rising and falling just a little too fast. You weren’t good at confrontation. You weren’t good at being seen.

But he had seen you.

Maki emerged from the shadows like something carved from the forest, tall, calm, and unmistakably wolf. His gaze found yours, soft but piercing, and for a second you forgot how to breathe.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said quickly, voice low, careful. Like he’d sensed the way your pulse stuttered.

“I-It’s okay,” you managed, eyes darting between him and the trees behind. “I just… don’t usually run into anyone out here.”

His ears twitched, and you noticed the way he stayed a few paces away, not moving any closer. Like he didn’t want to spook you.

“I’ve seen you before,” he said gently, “from a distance. You’re always… quiet.”

You shifted, fingers nervously fidgeting with the strap of your bag. “I try to be.”

“I like it,” he added, almost shyly. “Quiet’s… nice.”

You blinked up at him, surprised. Most wolves didn’t like quiet. They liked things loud and fast and full of confidence. You weren’t any of those things. Not really.

“You’re… not what I expected,” you murmured, still wary, but slowly easing. “As a wolf, I mean.”

Maki smiled, his expression soft and almost bashful. “Neither are you… as a deer, I mean.”

You weren’t sure what that meant, whether he meant it as a compliment or a warning, but the way he looked at you didn’t feel threatening. It felt… curious. Careful. Like someone trying to understand a creature they’d only ever seen from afar.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said finally, earnest and warm.

You gave him a hesitant nod. “I’m… working on it.”

And somehow, that was enough.

He didn’t try to close the distance. He just smiled again, soft and slow, and let you decide whether you wanted to keep talking or disappear back into the trees.

Word count : 3256 | serapharua, 2025.

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo: Chapter Two

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @ursinaw @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @v-sh @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 and @thisisafish123 wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (I hope the tags worked, I'm new to having a tag list!)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

Previous chapter: Chapter One

Next chapter: Chapter Three

WARNINGS: none for now

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

Note 2: I’m in love with Ruggie, so I accidentally made half of this chapter about him. Oops.

—----------------------------------

You decided that the best course of action would be watching from afar. The hyenas were afraid of you, the king of the lions didn’t like you, and the wolves were wary of you. All in all, not the greatest situation.

You didn’t know what you expected. Did you really think they would all love you from day one? They were half-animals, after all. They had the instincts of wild animals, not domesticated pets.

Still, you were determined to make them like you. The hyenas would probably be easiest, once they warmed up to you. The wolves would probably get used to you eventually. The lions- well, that was a tricky situation. They all followed Leona, so you’d have to win him over before you could win over the entire pride, and that would not be easy.

You grabbed your journal and pen from your locker and walked to the savannah exhibit’s door. This time, you had brought a water bottle with you, prepared for the upcoming heat you would have to face. You had also bought binoculars from one of the vendors, knowing you would need it if you were going to keep some space between you and the halflings.

You entered the exhibit, wincing at the heat that hit your skin. You scanned the dry land for the hyenas and found them lounging around the watering hole, talking amongst themselves. You stepped behind a large rock and leaned over it, raising your binoculars to your eyes.

It was impossible to hear what they were saying, but they seemed to laugh a lot. You really wished you knew what they were saying, but if you approached them, they would probably stop their conversation and focus on getting away from you.

Day 1

HYENAS

There are seven hyenas and they all seem to be close to each other, as they stick together in a group. Their conversations seem to be humorous, as they are often laughing. This could be from their hyena half, as hyenas are known for their “laugh”.

Each of the halflings are easily differentiated by their hyena ears and tail. They all seem to be around 5’5, but even the tallest ones do not hit 6 feet. 

They are relaxed until a female approaches them. In this case, all seven hyenas are male, so the problem starts when a female keeper tries to feed them or study them up close. They suddenly become extremely wary or even frightened and are very hesitant to come anywhere near a female keeper.

The best way to calm them down, I believe, is to show them that you are not aggressive like female hyena halflings are. It doesn’t get rid of their fear, but it definitely helps.

You peered through your binoculars and watched the six hyenas as they drank from the watering hole- most of them scooping water into their palms and drinking from their hands, while others put their head down to drink directly from the source.

Wait- six hyenas? Weren’t there seven?

You felt a hot breath on the back of your neck and you spun around, heartbeat skyrocketing. There, standing behind you, was the hyena halfling you had talked a little bit with when you were handing out breakfast.

He retreated to a safe distance and sat down, cross-legged, studying you curiously, a slight smile on his face as though he was proud that he had frightened you. Suddenly, you were all too aware of the claws on his fingers and the unnaturally sharp canines that shone in the sunlight when he flashed you a lazy smile.

“Shishishi,” he giggled, eyes locked on you, waiting for your reaction.

“You scared me, Ruggie!” you said, your heartbeat starting to go back to its normal pace.

His grin only widened. You noticed his eyes flickering from you to your notebook.

“Oh! Are you interested in my notebook?” you asked, holding it out to him.

Ruggie frowned, looking a little offended, “I can’t read.”

Oh. You felt your cheeks growing warm. Of course a halfling, who had spent his life in the wild and then captivity, wouldn’t know how to read. It was a miracle that any of them had picked up enough English to be able to speak it.

“Do you want me to read it to you?” you asked.

Ruggie’s eyes widened and he cocked his head at you. Finally, he shook his head. A little disappointed, you closed your notebook. “That’s alright. Did you want to talk?”

Ruggie shook his head once more and you felt yourself at a loss for words. You weren’t sure why he was still here if he wasn’t interested in talking. One of the other hyenas made a whooping sound and Ruggie responded with his own hyena noises, turning his attention to the other hyenas for a moment before he turned back to you.

You decided to try to get him to speak to you, “So, did you enjoy breakfast? You had three servings, after all.”

Finally, Ruggie nodded then, as an afterthought, added, “I like donuts better.”

“Donuts?” you couldn’t help but laugh, “Would you like it if I brought some?”

Ruggie’s eyes widened, “Donuts?”

“Yeah!” you said happily, “My boss said I could bring you guys anything, as long as I paid for it with my own money.”

He looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky, “Donuts!”

Ruggie called back to his friends with a series of whoops and other hyena noises and they responded back enthusiastically. You wished you could understand their language.

You turned back to your notebook.

It seems like hyena halflings like sweets or, at least this group likes donuts. One of them, the one named Ruggie, seems like he has warmed up to me a little. We talked a little, mostly about donuts, but I feel like he isn’t as scared of me as the others are.

Ruggie seemed to have had enough, because he stood up and, with a curious glance back at you, he ran off to join the others, kneeling by the watering hole to drink along with his peers.

You were a little disappointed by how short the conversation had lasted, but more than anything, you were excited that you had a conversation with a hyena halfling at all. Ruggie still seemed a little wary of you, but much more comfortable with your presence than earlier.

It was a step in the right direction.

You were not looking forward to seeing Leona, but you were already in the savannah exhibit and the lions weren’t too far off. The pride’s positions were the same as this morning’s, with Leona lounging on the large rock while the other lions sat and laid on the grass beneath him. The lions were either napping, grooming their hair, or just talking quietly amongst themselves.

The lions were not frightened by you and why would they be? They had a killer bite and claws on each hand. They regarded you lazily, as if you bored them a little.

“Hello, everyone!” you did your best to not sound as terrified as you felt. None of the lions stopped what they were doing for you, continuing their actions as if you weren’t even there.

You hadn’t even noticed at first that Leona was awake, until you glanced at the rock, hoping to get a reaction from him. 

He sat up on the rock, staring at you with an impassive expression. Despite his lack of a warm welcome, your heart soared. This was your chance!

“Hi there!” you said cheerfully.

He looked down his nose at you, clearly not impressed by your greeting.

“Did you have a good nap?” you asked.

Leona continued to stare at you, unimpressed with your attempts at earning his attention.

“So, I know your name is Leona, but would you like to know mine?” you asked hopefully.

Leona’s eyes turned to the right, as though he was making a decision. Finally, he spoke in that slow, rumbling voice of his, “Whatever, I don’t care. Go ahead”

You smiled up at him, pleased that you had gotten his permission, even though he wasn’t as interested as you had hoped, “I’m (Y/n), it’s nice to officially meet you.”

Leona laid back down but didn’t close his eyes, watching you as you looked back at him.

“Did you eat your steak? I don’t want you to go hungry.”

Leona’s eyes widened a little, as though you had taken him by surprise. And maybe you had.

His gaze evaded yours as he responded to your question, “Yes, I ate it.”

“Oh good!” you smiled happily up at him.

Leona studied you closely, clearly unable to read you. Leona tilted his head and turned away from you, “Is that all you need?”

“I’ll write in my notebook, if you’d prefer me to do that.”

Leona grunted in response and closed his eyes.

DAY 1

LIONS

The lion halflings are not shy like the hyenas, but they are hesitant to talk to me. I feel as though, if I earn their king’s acceptance, I will be able to talk to them all. The king has started to talk to me, even if it was only a few words.

The lions are taller than the hyenas, most around 6 feet tall. They are easily differentiated by their lion ears and tail. There are 19 lions, with most being female, and only one cub.

Unsurprisingly, the lion halflings spend a good chunk of their time sleeping. I assume this is from the lion part of them.

“Did you want to read what I wrote?” you asked, sensing Leona’s eyes on you. Your eyes met his and he held your gaze for a few moments before growling, “I’m going to sleep.”

He flopped back down on the rock and closed his eyes again, his breathing becoming rhythmic almost right away.

You didn’t want to bother Leona when he was trying to fall asleep, so you sneaked away, sending an unrequited wave over your shoulder to the other lions. Maybe if you weren’t so determined to get out of the heat, you would have noticed the eyes boring into the back of your head.

The walk to the wolves’ exhibit was a long one. After all, you had to cross half the savannah before making it out into the back hallway meant for staff. Then, you had to push through the crowds to get to the wolf exhibit. At least the crowds weren’t too bad, since evening was on its way.

You were excited that the sun was falling. You’d be able to watch wolf halflings at their preferred time of day. After all, wolves hunted in the twilight hours.

You hoped that didn’t mean they’d see you as prey.

The exhibit door opened easily and you found yourself breathing the air in deeply. It took you a moment to discover just why you liked the wolves’ enclosure so much. Mountain air. Somehow, some way, the zoo had made the enclosure smell like the mountains. The air was even a little thinner here than it was on the pathways.

These wolf halflings must have been living in the mountains when they were brought to the zoo. The thought made your heart hurt a little. Were they offered a deal to live in captivity or were they captured and brought here by force? You didn’t like to think about it too much.

This wasn’t your battle to fight.

The keeper who fed the wolves their evening meal walked past you with full buckets. As she passed you, she gave you a word of advice, “You aren’t gonna find them all together like they are at mealtimes. They all split up, especially in the evening.”

You nodded, a little disappointed. That could make it harder to find them, much less study them. Plus, it’s not like you could look in several directions at once. This might be a little more complicated than you thought.

Or maybe it’ll be fine, you reassured yourself, trying to stay positive.

You reached a steep, downward slope and decided it was probably the best vantage point you would find. You found a nice place to sit down between a cluster of rocks and took out your binoculars. 

It took almost half an hour for you to see any movement. Down, at the base of the hill, one wolf halfling walked close to the barrier between the wolves and guests. He had his back hunched in a sort of prowl, and you realized that he was probably in hunt mode. 

Excited, you pulled out your notebook to make some notes.

Your pen froze above the paper when you heard a growl.

You slowly turned your head, and what you saw made your blood run cold. A buff wolf halfling with dark gray hair and pin-pricked ears had his lips drawn over his fangs in a snarl. He was growling so ferociously that flecks of spit flew in your direction. His yellow eyes dilated as he grew closer, back hunched as though he were ready to lunge for your throat at any moment. 

You gulped, forcing yourself to stay completely still. You were afraid, if you moved, you’d have your throat torn out before you could blink.

The wolf took one step closer, growled one last time, then lunged.

The halfling seemed to stop midair and, before you knew it, he was lying on his side in the dirt a few feet away. The cause of his sudden stop was made clear after a few terrified moments, when your eyes turned upwards.

The white-haired wolf halfling stood with his shoulder still out in front of him. You realized that he had shoulder-checked the older wolf during his attack. Shakily you smiled at him.

“Thank you so much!”

The dark-skinned halfling took a seat on one of the rocks surrounding you. You studied his features, everything from his white tail to his white ear tips. He, on the other hand, watched the older wolf warily.

The older wolf pushed himself to his feet, shaking the dirt from his clothes. His yellow eyes glared at you, but he limped off in the opposite direction, disappearing into the shadows of the trees. 

The white-haired halfling turned his attention back to you. You decided to offer your friendship to him.

“My name is (Y/n), what’s yours?”

He stared at you for a moment, before his rumbling voice said, “Jack.”

“It’s nice to meet you Jack,” you said, trying not to come across as too excited to be talking to him. You didn’t want to scare him away with your eagerness.

Jack continued to stare, his golden stare softening a little when he said, “Not safe.”

He didn’t seem to have a very good grasp on the English language, but that was understandable. It didn’t seem like the wolves were all too friendly toward humans.

“I have to stay,” you explained to Jack, hoping he would understand.

“Not safe,” Jack replied. He got up from his sitting position and crossed the distance between you in less than a second. You watched, trembling, as his one of his clawed hands took hold of the back of your shirt collar. 

You blinked owlishly as Jack began to carry you by the collar, stunned by his behavior and not wanting to tick him off by fighting. From what you could tell, he didn’t seem to want to actually hurt you, but you didn’t want to push your luck.

After a long walk, Jack set you back down on your feet. He pointed one clawed finger behind you. “Not safe.”

You turned around and, to your surprise, you were met with the exhibit door. Comprehension dawned on you. He wanted to keep you safe.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you soothed, “I have to study-”

“Not safe,” Jack responded, voice even gruffer.

You tried to come up with the perfect solution. You had to soothe Jack but you also had to do your job.

“Well, you could protect me,” you suggested.

“Pro-tect?” Jack’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, keep me safe,” you replied. Jack took a while to think that one over. Finally, he nodded.

He followed you back to your spot like an obedient puppy, but refused to sit down, choosing instead to hover over you, eyes darting in all directions.

Day 1

WOLVES

Wolf halflings tend to be around 6 feet tall, distinguishable by their wolf ears and tails. There are 12 of them in this zoo, with 6 females and males each. 

Some of the wolf halflings are very aggressive, and this seems to amplify in the evening hours, possibly because these are their hunting hours. One wolf, however, acts in a protective manner towards me.

It is interesting to note the wolf halflings appear to be in hunting mode despite just being fed.

All of the halflings, save for one, have hair and fur in different shades of gray, while one has white hair and fur.

You didn’t see any other wolves for the next few hours and you eventually decided it was time to go home. Jack shadowed you on your way to the exhibit entrance. You waved goodbye, and he mimicked the action awkwardly.

Laughing a little, you went home for the day.

[velting]

Winner of the Poll ⇒

This is the top 5 winners that I let you guys voted for, for which guys you would like to see in Ghibli males! And to no surprise Rin won....

Now as a matter of time here are the top 5 winners that I would make a story for them the male MC’s in the movie! And ofc the reader is portrayed as the female MC in the movie, you could be a goldfish,an cursed old lady, a witch or a wolf princess! But alas y'all picked the scared little girl as you (I judge you all for picking Rin. Especially you Mari, you know what you did)

Enough of that, here are the top winners!

RIN ITOSHI ⇒

#1st place winner with 26% votes

The story is about the adventures of a young ten-year-old girl named [Name] as she wanders into the world of the gods and spirits. She is forced to work at a bathhouse following her parents being turned into pigs by the evil witch. Luckily, the boy named Rin helps. After getting her to safety, he gives her detailed instructions on how to get a job in the spirit world, which he says is the only way to survive. He says his name is Rin and that he has known her since she was very small.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒕, 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆. 𝑰’𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆."

-ℝ𝕚𝕟 𝕒𝕤 ℍ𝕒𝕜𝕦

"𝑹𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒍. 𝑯𝒆’𝒔 𝒂 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏!"

-[ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖] 𝕒𝕤 ℂ𝕙𝕚𝕙𝕠𝕪𝕠

MICHAEL KAISER ⇒

#2nd place winner with 25.2% votes

[Name], a young milliner, is cursed by a vengeful witch, transforming her into an elderly woman; to break the curse, she seeks out the enigmatic wizard Kaiser, who lives in a moving castle powered by a fire demon named isagi, and together they embark on a journey that involves war, self-discovery, and the true meaning of love, as [Name] learns to embrace her inner strength and challenges Kaiser to confront his own fears and insecurities, ultimately breaking the curse by accepting herself as she is.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍"

-𝕄𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕖𝕝 𝕒𝕤 ℍ𝕠𝕨𝕝

"𝑨 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒚 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏"

-[ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖] 𝕒𝕤 𝕊𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕚𝕖

YOICHI ISAGI ⇒

#3rd place winner with 16.8% votes

Two orphans [Name] and Yoichi are pursued by government agent, the army, and a group of pirates. They seek [Name's] crystal necklace, the key to accessing Laputa, a legendary flying castle hosting advanced technology.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒚... 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈."

-𝕐𝕠𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕚 𝕒𝕤 ℙ𝕒𝕫𝕦

"𝑰'𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚. 𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒖𝒍𝒕 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒊𝒙𝒆𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔."

-[ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖] 𝕒𝕤 𝕊𝕙𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕒

MEGURU BACHIRA ⇒

#4th place winner with 10.7% votes

The son of a sailor, 5-year old Meguru lives a quiet life on an oceanside cliff with his mother Yuu. One fateful day, he finds a beautiful goldfish trapped in a bottle on the beach and upon rescuing her, names her [Name]. But she is no ordinary goldfish. The daughter of a masterful wizard and a sea goddess, [Name] uses her father’s magic to transform herself into a young girl and quickly falls in love with Meguru, but the use of such powerful sorcery causes a dangerous imbalance in the world.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"𝑳𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓. 𝑰𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚?"

-𝕄𝕖𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕦 𝕒𝕤 𝕊𝕠𝕤𝕦𝕜𝕖

"[𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆] 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝑴𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖!"

-[ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖] 𝕒𝕤 ℙ𝕠𝕟𝕪𝕠

HYOUMA CHIGIRI ⇒

#5th place winner with 9.3% votes

Hyouma, a young Emishi prince, is cursed by a demonic boar god while defending his village, forcing him to journey west to find a cure; there, he becomes entangled in a war between the forest spirits, led by a human girl raised by wolves named [Name], and the inhabitants of Irontown, a human settlement led by the ambitious Lord Chris, who is aggressively exploiting the forest for resources; Hyouma must navigate this conflict, trying to find a balance between the needs of humans and nature to break the curse on his arm and prevent further destruction.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆... 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍..."

-ℍ𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕞𝕒 𝕒𝕤 𝔸𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕒

"𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖! 𝑰 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒊𝒎!"

-[ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖] 𝕒𝕤 ℙ𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕠𝕜𝕖

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#6th place is Kenyu Yukkimiya with 6.1%

#7th place is Reo Mikage with 3.8%

#8th place is both tied are Nijiro Nanase and Eita Otoya with 1.2%

The story will be posted at my Tumblr page where it would be public for everyone to see and read! I hope my attention span doesn't die on me and hopw to make all five of them at the end! Till then!

P.S: Please tell me or comment on any questions you guys might have for me and I'll gladly answer them for you

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© 2024 Ｖｅｌｖｅｔｅｅｎ 平和な目覚め— do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform without my permission!

[wiremotherofficial]

i feel like people who have never lived in an area where humans literally are not the dominant species cannot get their heads around the fact that animals do not behave the same way regarding people in those areas. and naturally the people who want to reintroduce various large predators never want to do it where they themselves live lol.

and if any of the people who live in the area where this is happening don't want it - because they are having problems - complain or try to do anything about it they are dismissed as overly aggressive hicks who are "prejudiced" against these animals.

mexican wolves have been reintroduced where i live in large numbers and it has already become a massive problem. i feel like this could have been easily avoided by simply not ignoring us when we said how it would go

if you absolutely must reintroduce a large predator, i'd much rather it be a cat. we all would. the reason is because dogs are two things: lazy and cooperative.

we have a lot of coyote trouble in this area too, but we generally don't mind and just address it as it comes. the reason for this is that coyotes have less established social structures and live in smaller groups, so if one picks up a bad habit it spreads to maybe 3 others and if you pick those few off you have peace again for quite a while.

with the wolves, once somebody brings a bad habit back to the rest of the family, you're just going to be at war with them. also because of their size and numbers they can hunt much larger prey, and there's nothing easier than a cow in a fence.

one of the supposed benefits to the wolves is that they should keep the coyotes in check by competing for resources with them but they're not.

and back to that first point about animals acting differently in areas where people aren't the dominant species, what that does is it removes that inherent fear of people most animals in other areas will innately have. and now add in the issue of these cooperative animals sharing bad habits.

a few coyotes who feel bold enough to attack a human is bad, but an entire local population of wolves who see humans as a viable prey option??? we don't want that!

and we could have told these people who brought them here that it would happen, because it's the exact reason they had been chased out in the first place.

[chaoskull]

J. Doyle Penrose - Idun and the Apples

Feast of Hope

Space Wolf Oc x Gn!Reader

Summary: On a mission, looking for a possible threat on a planet, Helgi finds a kind human in the midst of a emotionally desperate moment.

Based this one mostly in the image of the painting. I had this guy on the back of my mind for a little while, finally decided on showing him, hope you like it!

A tender world, no harsh ice winds covered its surface, only but a breeze of the fields, a green land that had come to bless the long awaiting wolf, Helgi was no stranger to hotter climates, although they would only come in times of war, where blood was bound to be found.

Some of his brothers accompanied him, out of the grassland, into the woods, no forest as what he heard from tales of other worlds, this one is bright, filled with life, and light that seeps through the canopy of the tall, slim trees. The vibrant vegetation gave him comfort he could never seek on the surface of Fernis.

They head to the heart of the forest, what is to be done, he hasn't been told - merely that they were to kill, as if that was not their duty already - if he was to question anything about the mission the much older astartes of the group would definitely start to complain, as he would always do.

That is until they reach a clearing, they sat themselves on rocks there present, it's been a long travel, walking on foot, as they were told to not disturb the humans present in this planet, ‘Screw them, should have brought those ravens if it was needed to do that’ he reasons.

Helgi was no beginner in tracking, he had many years of servitude, he knew when something felt different in an ambient, as they start discussing what is to be done he notices a smell in the air of fresh fruit, the forest, as he observes, had nothing green and yellow leaves.

The others did not seem bothered by it, but he was, Helgi had not eaten anything since the landing he had been distracted, he was highly alerted of his surroundings, he'd been drinking before the mission again, even though I was clear to him that this would soon destroy him.

Before the sickness stopped he felt no hunger, but as they sat and talked, he wasn't so lightheaded anymore, the dizziness had left and now he was starting to feel starved.

Deciding to end this quickly he got up to seek this smell, the older man was not content with the action. “Helgi, where are you heading to?!” He shouted from his seat.

“I'm starving, you old drunk” He barked back at the man and spat on the floor. “Ha, well look who says that, you were stumbling like an idiot the entire ride on the ship here, boy” The man laughs, it was merely playful banter between the two, though aggressive, they were both accustomed with it by now.

It still hurt Helgi deeply to hear that, he knew most of his brothers had their burdens, but his being so obvious to others it made him feel less than them. He wasn't a new recruit any longer, he was getting old, he had nothing to himself, it was an honor to be an astartes, but he had none left at times he wasn't battling.

Others kept their distance as he left, but the older man followed him. “What are you looking for, you hopeless bastard?” He asked, patting the man on the shoulder.

“Smelled fruit” He answers, he didn't care what was there to eat, though he'd definitely prefer a nice piece of meat. The older man snickers in amusement, not expecting such a response.

They both find the source of the smell not too far, sitting on a rock, eating said fruits, Helgi finds a little human. They recognize them as astartes, space wolves most likely, and quickly take the box where they stored the fruits ready to take a leave, not just from slight fear, but from reverence as well.

Though they were interrupted by a growling sound, it came from the belly of the younger man, and the older one started to laugh at him. They were left confused, he was hungry, they opened the box to offer a fruit to the man.

Helgi felt as his life had come from misery to a miracle in an instant, the two astartes approached his savior, kneeling to get as close as possible to their sitting stature.

They handed him a red ripe fruit, it was big in their hand, when he took it it seemed times smaller, taking a bite of it he almost devoured it whole, juice dripping from his hand, it was just as sweet as it looked.

“You want more, my lord?” He lifted his head to the sound of the voice, met with a gentle smile a hand held another in front of him, dangling in their fingers. His head falls to their lap, loosening his grip of the fruit, it rolled through the grass.

The older man was sitting near the scene, about to make fun of him. He looked at them and decided to leave instead, returning to do a mission with the others, who were too watching while they waited, without Helgi noticing.

What he saw was a blessing, he wanted to take you to Fernis, he couldn't leave you on this planet, he was a selfish man. This forest was a distant paradise, and you were an angel, one not made by imperium means, one made of kindness.

He wonders what you must make of him, he was barely holding his tears, and yet you placed your hands on his hair, slowly running them along his red mane.

Leaning his head up to meet your gaze, one hand travels down to scratch his bearded cheeks only to move it away his face, leaving him yearning for more.

Taking the fruit and holding it close to his mouth, Helgi lets you feed him, he was chewing slowly this time as to savor it, truth is he wanted to have far more time in your hold. He'll have only a memory of your gentle expression, if not to leave with you today.

“Come with me, It’s cold on Fernis, but I'll give you my warmth, I promise you, let me” He begs, leaning closer to your face. “I'm a failure at everything my legion stands for, I'm not prideful of my actions, I'm not nice to be around, I can't make myself likable”

“You say a lot of negative things about yourself, I'm certain most are not true, my lord” They comment, trying to make the man less desolate.

He looks at you, eyes imploring for you to depart with him. “I shall take my leave with you if that is wish for, I'll become your serf”

“No little one, not a thrall, I will cherish you, you'll be mine to spoil” He grins at them, he suddenly gets up, much faster than what they would expect for a man who was just inconsolable moments before. He holds their hand, drawing circles on their palms.

“Helgi, you done?!” A yell is heard not far from where they were.

“I believe in you, lord Helgi” They get up and take the box in their hands, hugging it close to their chest. Having such an immense height difference, they crane their head up to look at him.

“Enough with the lord stuff” He huffs back at them, grabbing them, he pulls them closer to himself and runs one hand on their back, almost engulfing them in the pelts around his belt.

“Ha, got yourself a spouse, that's surprising!” The older wolf shouts as he laughs, suddenly appears from behind the bushes and trees, covered in what was most likely blood and guts of an unknown creature.

“They are not!” Helgi retorts the old man's remark, he leans closer to their head. “...yet” He mumbles, leaving them with a shocked, embarrassed expression, he chuckles at the sight.

Thank you for reading this little thing from my mind!

[doberbutts]

weird question, but is there a reason why humans with rabies don't become as mindlessly aggressive as animals with rabies? like, how come people with rabies aren't running around biting everyone?

If I'd hazard a guess, it probably cooks us before we progress that far. Additionally, it also likely has something to do with natural instinct- humans with rabies while they are still able to talk report feeling intense fear and pain while experiencing hallucinations.

Most humans actively don't want to hurt other people- I have a schizophrenic aunt and even in her worst delusions and hallucinations where she may be screaming threats, she's never actually followed through on any of them because she genuinely doesn't want to hurt anyone when she's capable of processing situations logically. Similarly, I have a friend-of-a-friend who is also severely mentally ill, and the only times he's ever hurt someone are when he gets grabbed while he's hallucinating that someone is trying to hurt him. Those he's lashed out at in this state get shoved or kicked or punched before he continues to try to get away from them (they also forgive him immediately because they are his caretakers and understand his mental state very well).

When we started using tools as a species, we also stopped reaching for "biting you" as a defensive response unless there is truly no other choice. Even in the grips of intense fear and panic and pain and delusion and hallucination and paranoia, humans are more likely to choose literally any other option than teeth unless that's their last line of defense. We probably did bite each other back when we were no different than our great ape cousins.

More or less, I'm not entirely convinced that rabies sends signals for "bite" specifically, and is more sending signals for "attack", and humans don't really reach for "bite" when attacking as a general rule unlike other animals. Humans who are restrained in their hospital beds are significantly more likely to bite their caregivers- shoving, kicking, and punching are out of the question when you're tied down. That is true regardless of if they have rabies or not.

Additionally, the virus seems to only progress so far before it stagnates at a specific stage in certain animals. Bats are significantly more likely to have "dumb rabies" than "furious rabies". This could be due to a number of things ranging from "dumb rabies makes them incapable of flight and fucks up their sonar [true!] and so they starve to death before symptoms can progress past that [theory!] since they have fast metabolisms and missing even a single night's meal is devastating to their health [true!]" to "bats show some resistance to rabies as a whole [true!] and thus it may take much longer for symptoms to progress in the usual manner and so the bat generally dies before it can go any further [theory!]" Bats CAN progress to the furious stage, but we don't tend to see it as often.

There has never been a recorded instance of rabies passing from human to human so my money's on a combo of the two theories. It's very possible that Grug The Caveman got rabies from the wolves he was trying to tame and then wiped out his entire society by zombie-biting the fuck out of everyone who tried to help him. But we weren't writing things down at that point, so we have no way of knowing.

Rabies' first documentation is 4000 years ago- but it's very possible it existed before that, since the writing just states that the owner of a rabid dog needs to take provisions against it biting anyone, meaning we knew by then what rabies was and that the bite was dangerous. It's very possible this disease has followed us around since before humans harnessed fire and invented the wheel. That's a decent amount of un-accounted-for time for humans to have hulked out and started zombie-biting.

We have so many folkstory monsters in nearly every culture on the planet that boil down to "had contact with an animal that was acting strangly, turned me into a savage monster that tries to kill everything I see less than a month later, btw my monster disease is super contagious and I spread it by biting the fuck out of you" that predate any modern science knowledge of how the virus works, which makes me think that it probably did happen back in the caveman days and it's ancestrial memory that has us clinging to these concepts to this day.

[muffinsin]

Cassandra dimitrescu with child reader soon 👀?

Wasn’t sure if you were referring to a post, so I’ll refer to this one, of a child reader being found by the sisters :)! Each part’s separate, Bela’s part can be found here🙌

Let’s get into it!

Masterlists

She laughs as she takes off in her swarm, her entire body shaking with excitement, her fingers twitching as her sickle is summoned and grasped tightly

It’s been forever since she has been able to hunt outside!

It’s like the huntress’s senses are overflowing

She feels the wind and sun, the leaves and branches she pushes up against as she swarms past them

The chirps of birds and deer, the stomps of hooves and paws, the growls of bears and wolves retreating at her familiar laughter

Winter and the early spring has been torture to the brunette! How dare the weather deny her the hunt?!

Alas, she is back, having easily convinced Alcina by using the very puppy -eyed look she had practiced every day she spent inside

She wonders; what will today bring?

A deer? Juicy and thick, warm and full of boiling blood that will fill her and her family’s belly?

Tempting. She knows Daniela and Bela do so very much love a good deer…

Alas, she feels like challenging herself again, after having only the help to chase after and terrorise for so long

Speaking of mortals, perhaps she will find yet another foolish villager out in the woods?

Often, one or two hunters don’t quite get the memo, don’t quite understand the danger of the forest when the temperatures rise

They often make for an exciting hunt due to their weapons, and the rare loot they often carry with them make them an interesting catch

She ponders on this for a moment

Perhaps, she will even get lucky and find an outsider! She wonders; will she be able to squeeze information about the outside out of them? Take their precious things and analyse them?

Perhaps, she will get lucky

But a human catch is hardly impressive to her

Dull creatures they are to her, fearful and cocky, stupid and cruel. No more than a roach underneath her shoe

Perhaps a wolf, then?

She thinks this through, for a moment

Yes, what wonderful prey indeed. But..so very cute, too

No wolf would feel her eagerness today, she decides

But perhaps a bear! She lets out a laugh in anticipation. Yes! A bear will do nicely! The largest and most aggressive she can find!

As she races through the trees, thoughts of her prey already fill her head

The blood, the fight, the roars and her laughter. Her mother’s praise upon seeing such a find when Cassandra will bring it home, Bela and Daniela’s barely contained excitement at the gift their sister brought home

She already sees her target; a cave, a nest, when a new sound has her head jerk to the side

A cry, a human one. A child’s cry

Growling a little under her breath, she abandons her position at the cave. Curiosity takes over instead

And so she follows the cries, until she is set perfectly on a tree branch

Below, a child of no more than eight years, perhaps. She has never been good at recognising one’s age, really, and is not exactly around children often

In front of the child is a lycan, imposing in its side, surely a pack leader. Only does it seem to be lacking its pack

She watches for a moment as the beast preys towards the small thing. Certainly, you are helpless

For a moment, she feels a pang of instinct within her. Instinct to save, to look after you

With a frown, she shoves these feelings down. No, she settles on. Such feelings are reserved to her family only

She doesn’t dare imagine what would be if the little, helpless child was her baby sister instead, only younger and defenseless

Certainly, she would have died protecting Daniela even at a young age!

And yet…

Just as she is about to turn around, she notices a scent lingering on you

Her scent

While the rational part of her knows this is only because you must have wandered into her territory while she was stuck inside the castle, she can’t bring herself to care

By the means of her most primal instincts, you are hers

She snarls as she lunges from the tree, her sickle digging instantly into the lycan’s thick head

She laughs in delight at its howls and shrieks, its broken attempts of howling and notifying its lost pack

Attempting to swipe at her, the beast is only met with another painful swipe of the sickle

Cassandra laughs. The silly thing reminds her of the times Daniela and her would sneak out to play with the Lycans!

Even then, they were no match for them

She fights fast and enthusiastically, her eyes wide with excitement, electricity running through her body

Her flies buzz with excitement by the time the lycan falls at last, its ugly head buried in the ground, it’s fur painted a deep shade of red

When she turns, Cassandra finds the little human hasn’t moved at all

Instead, you have watched her, with little, wide eyes and parted lips

She’s about to speak when you beat her to it

“Mama!”, you shout nearly instantly, a gleeful smile taking over your previously worried face

She gasps in shock as you throw yourself against her, the weight of your little body nothing she can’t handle. She feels you cling to her front, your arms locked around her

Curious, she tilts her head

Who are you?

Again, her mind provides her an easy answer; you are hers. You smell of her

She watches your little head tilt up, your eyes welling with tears, now. You point towards the lycan on the floor, then expectantly raise your arms

She doesn’t quite understand at first. Again, she allows instinct to take over

In a single swoop you are scooped into her arms, your mama’s golden eyes set upon you

“Monster, Mama”, you whisper, and she watches as your eyes trail off to the lycan again

A part of her wants to scoff. Wants to tell you no, child. She is the monster you ought to be scared of

Instead, she stands frozen, even a little awkwardly. She doesn’t quite know what to do with you

“Mama”, you keep whispering quietly, your eyes becoming heavier and heavier. She jumps when a little hand closes around a strand of her hair, but finds; you don’t tug, nor hurt her

You’re a gentle little thing, and trust her entirely, it seems

You watch as she grabs the monster by its scruff and instantly whine again

Cassandra watches and feels as your little body seems to become even smaller in her arms, so that you are curled up against her chest, your face hidden against her dress

She tsks a little and whistles quietly for your attention. A triumphant smile appears on her face when she gets it instantly, one you happily copy

Despite herself, she smiles at the sight

“It’s dead, gone. It can’t hurt us anymore”, she reassures

Before thinking it through, she slams the thing against a nearby rock, as though to show it is truly dead and limp

Instantly, she anticipates the cries of terror and the fear, the thumping of little firsts against her in a desperate attempt to escape. The pleas to leave and let the child live, as so many children have screamed before. She remembers bitterly; she is not meant to take care of a child. She can’t. It is not in her nature, as her brutality shows

But, none of this happens

Instead you giggle happily, your little hand clasping onto the collar of her dress

She can’t help but giggle with you as her prey hangs limply and your little body shakes with laughter

“I think…, I’ll keep you”, she decides

“Mama!”, you cheer only, as though agreeing with her. She smiles at the thought

Perhaps, she is not unfit. She supposes it is to be shown

For a good while you manage to keep your eyes open, eager to look around as she walks and swarms home

She notes, the blood clinging to her skin and clothing doesn’t seem to bother you

And truthfully? She finds you look utterly adorable with your cheek tainted a shade of red after having it pressed against her bloodied cleavage for a good amount of time

It seems, despite the blood, her chest serves you as a good pillow

She smiles when soon your hands, cheek, legs and the little, dirtied brown shirt and pants are all stained red. You truly look like hers, now

Her child, her offspring, her mind supplies, but she decides to ignore such a thought for the time being

For the remaining walk you sleep peacefully, your little body resting calmly against her

She smiles a little at the view, and at your little hands clutching the sickle protectively

You had insisted, you wanted to help your mommy carry something

Her heart swells again, realizing that despite your fear of the Lycans, you have no qualms about blood or weapons, it seems

Perhaps, she is not unfit…

At the castle, you awaken to numerous stares and whispers aimed at you

You cling a little tighter to your mama, who seems to take no notice of them

A child is a rare sight at the castle though, and so more and more whispers follow you, until even Cassandra, who is much used to the staff’s chattiness, has enough

“The next to utter a word gets their tongue cut out!”, she snaps, her lips pulled to an angry sneer, her arms wrapped around you protectively

When looking down at you, she finds you smiling up at her, before your happy smile twists to a frown and a small growl comes from you, aimed at the staff now watching the brunette terrified

You giggle as they all advert their eyes, so quiet not even a breath is heard anymore

Cassandra rolls her eyes at them, and she notices you copy her again. Again, it makes her smile to herself

She will teach you the insignificance of those below you soon enough, but for now allows you to hold your head high, as though it was your little growls that shut them up

When brought to her room, she immediately feels you squirm about and whine, your little legs kicking excitedly and your hands reaching out

She realises, you want to explore, and gently sets you down

All too happily, you scurry off, right towards her bed

She raises her eyebrow as you attempt to climb the high mattress, and laughs when you at last manage and gasp at the softness surrounding you

Cassandra can’t help but realise; you are yet again in her territory, her nest even, her scent sticking to you more than it already has

And you seem aware of it too, as you excitedly babble “Mama” all over again as your bloodied hands hold onto the soft pillows that smell of her

She doesn’t mind the blood, never has, never will

Amused, Cassandra watches you carefully climb down the bed again, oo-ing and giggling at every new find

You seem particularly fond of retrieving things for her and hearing her explain them to you

As such she has explained her dagger, a skull found last winter, and an embarrassingly bright, yellow sweater knitted for her by her younger sister that she thought she had hidden well enough in her closet

She watches you play with the bear head sticking out of the beast turned into her carpet, poking its teeth and fighting it with one of the daggers found in her room

Oddly enough, she finds she enjoys your company, and is more than confident that you share this feeling

When she sits on the bed, you eagerly run to her, your little arms raising as you climb back on her bed and immediately curl against her side

“We should get you cleaned”, she notes, surprising even herself with it

Cleaned? A bath?! Eugh

But still, as she sees the little, bloody and dirty prints you leave, she decides it is likely for the best

You allow her to pick you up again effortlessly, your little fingers wrapping around a strand of her hair carefully

You never pull, but enjoy the feeling of having your mama so close

You watch curiously as she calls a woman in, with blonde hair and green eyes that are wide in horror

In awe, you watch as your mama gives her command after command and the woman doesn’t hesitate for a second to follow them

She runs across the room and disappears into an attached chamber, and again your attention is on your mama only

She smiles down at you and gently takes the dagger held between your and her body, her fingertip sliding along the sharp blade

“I got this one a few centuries back. There was a big, bad man that tried to hurt me, but I won”, she explains proudly

Cassandra watches you as you listen. You hang onto every word she speaks and gasps when she builds plot twists into her story

Perhaps, she can make bedtime stories work

It seems, she isn’t unfit

“Mama”. Her eyes find yours immediately. She watches you raise the dagger to her shoulder, your eyes squinted slightly in concentration

Then, an odd, somewhat comfortable feeling. The dagger pushes against her hair, but you’re by far too inexperienced and too young to work it the way you want to

Upon gazing at your shoulder, she finds what you tried to do

A single hair strand of yours, cut at the shoulder from where the lycan might have swiped at you prior to her arrival

She smiles at you, her fingertips gently closing around yours and the dagger

You watch eagerly as she guides you, taking the strand in one hand and guiding the dagger with the other

It takes a single moment for the brown lock of hair to fall from her shoulder and to your stomach, and you giggle excitedly at it

“Mama! Like, me!”

She smiles widely. Yes, just like her little one

[optiwashere]

for kiss game: either,

Mintharaheart 36 :okcatte:

Asheeraheart for 30

I'm going to do both of these, but I gotta go with some Asheeraheart to start the day off! Thank you for requesting 💜

30. A kiss as comfort.

---

The flickering of the campfire flames warmed Shadowheart’s palms as she flexed her fingers outward to catch all the welcome heat. An unusual chill spread through the night air on the road to Baldur’s Gate from Reithwin, and she was sure that was the only reason her hands shook. Her companions ringed the fire. Asheera sat next to her, oiling the blade of the two-handed sword between her knees with the hilt resting on her shoulder.

Then, for the second time that night, a distant yet distinct howl broke the silence. A wolf’s howl that curled her up tighter around herself. The others paid no mind to the shocking sound, chatting amongst themselves, but a hand rubbed a stripe along the hollow of her spine.

“There’s likely more of us than there are of them,” Asheera whispered to her, careful not to let anyone else hear.

“How do you know that?” Shadowheart retorted in a sharper tone than she intended.

With a shrug, Asheera admitted, “I guess I don’t. But at least Jaheira could turn into one of them and howl back at them, maybe?”

“Your comforts are always so well worded.” Shadowheart drew in a long breath, leaning back into Asheera’s hand on the small of her back. Somehow, her wide palm and long fingers felt warmer than the fire. “Besides, I don’t think howling back at them would help.”

“OK, maybe not. I never implied I was a ranger or anything, did I?” Asheera grinned at her, cute tusks glinting in the firelight.

“Or a druid for that matter.”

“Now, hold on.”

“Oh? You’ve a secret you never told me before? Ready to shapeshift before my eyes?”

“It’s metaphorical.”

Despite herself, despite the fear still surging in her heart, Shadowheart snorted a quick laugh. She darted her gaze to the others to see if anyone had noticed the embarrassing sound. Thankfully, they were all wound around Isobel’s finger as she regaled them with tales of Aylin’s valor.

Clearing her throat, she said, “So, you’ve no secret life as a druidess. You’re no ranger, either. What, then, can you offer for protection against the wolves in the dark?”

Asheera wrapped her free hand’s fingers around the grip of her sword. A huge weapon even for her, it would have nearly reached Shadowheart’s shoulders if she were standing. There was a simple honesty in that promise, and there had never been a woman more honest in her oaths to protect.

She also leaned forward, pushing Shadowheart closer to her with the hand on her back, and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was firm, but not aggressive. Another simple thing quickly finished, no more than a gentle touch that voicelessly yearned for more.

The sudden kiss left Shadowheart’s breathing harder, her vision a bit blurrier. She licked her bottom lip and considered diving in for more until, beside them, a loud snap of a laugh cut through her hazy thoughts.

Karlach, her smile splitting her face from ear to ear, stared at them both. “Aww, look at those two! Like two little lovebirds, sittin’ right next to each other and everything. So fucking adorable.”

Giving Asheera the sort of lancing look that she hoped delivered the message, Shadowheart promised herself she would never let Karlach see them kissing ever again. At least, not in the company of others.

The fawning would never end.

[altf4d3lete]

Episode One this is single-handedly bringing back my obsession even though it never left

- its 2022. Why is everyone freaked out bc a girl wears all black. Like people do that on a daily basis nowadays

- PUGSLEY POOR GUY :(

- “I want names” didn’t you JUST see them walking away from the locker

- Stop shoving him in a locker tied up is actually so mean wtf

- I see people use this piranha scene as justification that she’d be okay with murder, but really it’s justification that she wouldn’t be okay with people hurting her friends and those she cares about AT ALL. She’s trying to KILL these guys just for bullying their brother. Imagine what she’d do to Tyler for hurting Eugene and Enid.

- The intro is SO fucking cool

- Emma was so far down on the list of actors and now my girl is #3 behind Jenna and buscemi. She’s a main character now B)

- If I were Wednesday I’d be pissed too. I CANT with the parents. Like I love you but RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER 😭

- It’s five minutes in and I have so many notes

- Have to say again with the “terrible, they’d know I didn’t get the job done” that Wednesday is MORBID, not okay with murder unless she deems the person deserves it

- Ergh there is clearly so much discrimination against outcasts

- Weems and morticia r lowkey giving homoerotic rivalry…

- I FORGOT HOW FUNNY WEDNESDAY IS

- I genuinely can’t even like… I CANT WHY DID WEEMS PAIR HER WITH ENID 😭

- Guys Enid is SO cute holy fuck. She is UNPHASED bro, she’s just so excited to have a roommate she’s so cute I’m sobbing. She just wanted to accept Wednesday.

- YALL WHEN THEYRE WALKING DOWN THE STEPS WEDNESDAY LITERALLY GRAVITATES TOWARDS ENID. LITERALLY RUNS INTO HER

- Wednesday just lies about killing two kids to Enid and Enid just moved on like nothing happened.

- Also HELLO? THEIR BANTER? Enid takes NO shit 😭

- Hmm part of me wonders if those wolves howling were making fun of Enid.

- They’re literally leaning into each other wha

- “You better watch your back” and Wednesday is behind her that’s so funny

- How do you go from “cute but clueless” to “obsessed” enjax was lowkey forced whereas wenclair had chemistry from the beginning

- AW PUGSLEY HES SO CUTE

- Wednesday being a housewife will NEVER make sense

- I know people hate the relationship between Wednesday and morticia but it’s very realistic. You can easily tell they still love each other despite the harsh words.

- YEESH THE HYDE TORE HIM APART (I think this works with my theory that the more Tyler is aware of the Hyde, the more controlled his attacks get. Which also means that he knew what he was doing when he killed Kinbott, leaving her alive to taste her fear. And he knew what he was doing in the forest when he tried to kill Wednesday and nearly attacked his father)

- WENCLAIR FIGHT THEYRE SO FUNNY TOGETHER THEY ARGUE LIKE AN OLD COUPLE

- when did Wednesday check out enid’s blog. How and why.

- THE LITTLE SCOFF BEFORE “you mean emojis?”

- Enid huffing is crazy girly is ANGRY

- The way they just stare each other down is crazy wenclair is SO full of banter I forgot how hilarious they are

- ENID SIDE EYES WEDNESDAY SO MUCH

- Bianca lowkey eating everyone up…

- Bianca is so aggressive in her fighting style, whereas Wednesday is precise. It’s really cool

- THE GASPING IN THE BACKGROUND AFTER “let’s see if you bleed in black and white.”

- Xavier scoffs so much in this show and every time he does it lowkey makes me hate him more

- “No good deed goes unpunished” okay elphaba

- Girly was smiling when she was about to die.

- DUDE WHY WAS XAVIER LEANING OVER HER? WHO DOES THAT? JUST SIT DOWN NEXT TO HER.

- “Call it instinct” shut up actually

- Bro she had NO clue who Xavier was 😭

- It bothers me that ppl think she cared Xavier was in the coffin. She just wanted to see the godmother come back to life fr

- THING HAHA MY FAV

- I would be flabbergasted if my therapist read the equivalent of my journal before our sessions. She never should have been sent that.

- Ergh Tyler…

- The deep voice lowkey sounds really forced, idk what it is about Tyler’s voice but it bugs me. I think it’s the way his lines always kinda have the same delivery.

- Twenty bucks when he probably makes that in like half a day of work 😭

- The pilgrims look like such dorks bro who are they tryna scare 💀

- Why are they asking her if she’s “been with a normie” that’s so weird

- “THIS LITTLE THING TOOK DOWN THREE BOYS???” HELP

- Her playing with the necklace means everything to me

- Damn the hiker was the third victim

- The sheet music doesn’t match what she was playing but that doesn’t rly matter

- Love that enid went from disgusted to things bff

- Their roof scene is so meaningful to me. They work so well together. Enid doesn’t need anyone but Wednesday and Wednesday doesn’t need anyone but Enid. Enid teaches her how to relate to others and feel empathy and Wednesday teaches Enid to unapologetically be herself.

- Nero :(

- Them bonding is so cute 😭 this is rekindling my obsession

- Notice the immediate disrespect from Tyler but Enid gets close with thing so quickly

- Damn Enid is suspicious. Bro has some killer instincts

- “Hint taken” and Xavier proceeds to KEEP talking to her

- So Wednesday gives Tyler a time and place and you’re telling me it’s just a coincidence that those three pilgrims show up at that exact time at place? Literally there WAITING? No way. Tyler had to have told them, sorry about it.

- I lowkey feel bad for Weems. She’s a little controversial but she was just trying to do her best for nevermore

- Nah man that was an absolute ploy. There’s no way they just happened to know where to be. Tyler was trying to keep her from leaving. He already knew who she was by then and that they needed her.

- Rowan was so conflicted he didn’t deserve to die. He was just trying to protect people

- The way she scrambled over to him even after he tried to kill her :(

- YALL I LOVE THIS SHOW WTF 😭

[definitelynothim-notalex]

---

David x Werewolf!Reader Headcanons

- David knew you weren’t normal from the start.

- The way you carried yourself, the barely restrained aggression under your polite smiles.

- “There’s a storm in you, sweetheart. I can feel it.”

- The first time you shifted, it wasn’t planned.

- You got cornered by a group of hunters on the edge of Santa Carla.

- David found you mid-shift, bloodied and feral — and instead of fear, his reaction was pure fascination.

- “Well, aren’t you a beautiful little monster,” he’d purr, completely unphased.

- Your supernatural rivalry turns into playful taunts.

- He calls you *“pup”*, *“dog girl”*, or *“alpha bitch”* to get under your skin.

- You respond by threatening to chew through his leather jacket.

- Feral make-out sessions after a hunt are a thing.

- Claws, fangs, blood-stained kisses.

- Neither of you knowing where the dominance play stops and actual feelings start.

- You run together at night — him on his bike, you in wolf form keeping pace beside him.

- It makes him grin like the predator he is.

- Constant bragging contests about whose supernatural powers are better.

- “I can smell a lie from a mile away.”

- “Yeah? I can make you beg with a look.”

- Intense possessiveness on both sides.

- David doesn’t like other wolves sniffing around you.

- You can’t stand the human groupies following him on the boardwalk.

- The pack and the Lost Boys don’t always get along, but no one dares challenge your bond.

- “Touch her, and you’ll find out if vampires can survive a werewolf’s bite,” you once growled at Dwayne.

- David secretly loved it.

- You two are chaos incarnate at parties.

- Blood, booze, broken hearts, and full moons.

- Deep down, there’s a weird, unspoken respect.

- You’re both apex predators in your own right — and damn if it isn’t intoxicating.

---

[snootlestheangel]

WolfShifters!GhostSoap AU

Different kinds of wolves. Based on cycles of the moon (not actually, it's just how they've been classified)

The most common is New Moon wolves: larger than Waning Wolves, have very disproportionate paws that are almost hand like yet still very paw like. Mild mannered, docile, tend to be very nurturing, form strong pack bonds with other wolves, will pack bond with people but those bonds aren't as strong.

Next are Waning Moon wolves: Smallest of the wolves. Look like large, slightly disproportionate real wolves. More unpredictable in nature than their counterparts, the New Moon wolves. They're stronger, form the strongest pack bonds with anyone, humans and wolves alike. Loyal to a fault. Most common to find in the military: definitely used and manipulated. Bullied by Full Moon and Waxing Moon wolves

Then Full Moon wolves: look like a lot of the hunchback humanoid wolves you see in movies. These guys are the most unpredictable, almost feral in nature. Very animal like when shifted. Aggressive towards Waning Moon wolves during breeding seasons. Have been known to kill Waning Wolves during these seasons. Form pack bonds with other wolves, mostly Full and New moon, rarely pack bond with Waning. Do not pack bond with humans.

Finally Waxing Moon wolves: massive creatures, very wolf like but with dexterous front paws. They're the most aggressive, usually. Rarely form pack bonds with humans, will pack bond with any wolf that will associate with them, only forms strong bonds with mates. Very intelligent and also the strongest of the wolves. Can be bullies, not as bad about it as their Full Moon counterparts.

Waning Wolves are relatively common in the military, but become harder to come by at the level the 141 operates at. This is because the government views them as a liability. Full Moon wolves and Waxing wolves normally cannot reach certain positions/ranks.

Ghost is a Waning wolf, Soap is Waxing.

Soap's abilities impressed higher ranking officers so much he was given special permission to join SAS and make Sergeant. It's probably as far as he'll be able to go.

They met several years prior to the events I'm thinking of, and got along really well. Ghost was impressed by Soap, especially since finding another wolf at their level was difficult, and they ended up hanging out/speaking outside of work. Soap integrated into Simon's small family pack

They are mated, and they got married but keep it quiet due to fear of that information being used and manipulated

Soap absolutely makes Small Dog syndrome jokes to Ghost due to the size difference in their wolf forms. Ghost kicks his ass every time. It's their weird way of flirting/courting. They are mentally unwell and I love them

Gaz is a certified Wolf Behavior Analyst. The only way Ghost was allowed to keep moving up was that he was always assigned with a Behavior Analyst after the events of Roba. Gaz is the newest one and they get along great. Price got permission to form his own task force with the two of them. He's looking into recruiting a new member.

He has an opportunity to recruit Soap but they're required one mission together, not allowed alone in a room together, and must be monitored at all times by Gaz (Behavior Analyst), due to Ghost being Waning and Soap being Waxing

Idk anything else right now except some shenanigans where GhostSoap secretly agree to mess with Price and Gaz, mostly Gaz.

Gaz catching them one time in shifted forms and just by watching their body language he realizes something. He's borderline traumatized lol

I have nothing else currently for this, it's just something I might work on as like a fun project

[thebunnywhoneverlikedcarrots]

Wild Child Mint enters the fray!

@kirbyoctournament

About

Name: Mint

Gender/Pronouns: Female She/Her

Species: Puffball

Age: Late Teens

Abilities: Animal Communication, Agrokinesis, Archery, Sharp Senses and Agility

Weaknesses: Fire, Feral Social Skills, Missing Wing, Fears Bears

Likes: Hunting, Worthy Prey, Coyotes, Wild Pork

Dislikes: Long Conversations, Fire, Bears, Mushrooms

Personality

Aggressive, impulsive, instinct driven, Mint is best described as borderline feral given the circumstances life laid out for her. Being raised by wolves (well, coyotes) in the wild shaped the young puffball into a talented huntress and survivalist, but it did her social etiquette no favors. As she speaks in broken sentences, is frustrated by long conversations, doesn't respond well to provocation and is easy to overwhelm, Mint has been written off as someone not worth the trouble of getting to know.

Though she isn't a social butterfly, hidden under that pelt of hers is a deeply curious, clever, and surprisingly thoughtful girl. Mint is not easy to befriend, but those that can manage it may find a Puffball with a strong sense of loyalty. She is protective of the wilds that she calls home, driving out those that disrespect it and guiding those who are lost to safety- All to protect the delicate ecosystem and those that live outside it.

Lore

As a very young child, a young Mint was left alone in a sprawling, untamed forest and was forced to fend for herself. She was lucky to catch the attention and good will of a pack of coyotes, who helped the young puffball survive her early years and accustomed her to a wild upbringing. Using the pelt and bones of a deceased coyote, Mint fashioned herself a garment that she hoped made her fit in more with her wild friends.

When she scared a group of trespassing boys out of her territory, one of them dropped a bow and a quiver of arrows. After much trial and error, Mint figured out how to use the weapon as a tool to hunt. Along with a set of falcon-like wings growing in, she quickly became a skilled marksman with impeccable aim.

She hit a snag however when a ferocious bear intercepted one of her hunts, and the ensuing scuffle resulted in the permanent injury of one of Mint's wings and ultimately grounded her. While she was recovering from this fight, an irresponsible group of outside hunters started a forest fire that Mint barely escaped.

With two terrifying events happening right after another, Mint decided to take it as a sign that she must become stronger if she wanted to keep the only home she's ever known safe. Training herself to fight with her trusty bow, she threw herself headfirst into dozens of fights, and found the thrill of fighting strong foes quite to her liking. She's fought many battles with outsiders looking to harm her forest and safely guided the weak ones out of harms way. However, her forest is now starting to gain a reputation for its ferocious feral protector and is attracting more challengers than keeping them away... Much to Mint's continued annoyance.

Notes, Fun Facts, and Trivia

In terms of human years, Mint would be about 17-19 years old

Mint has never seen or interacted with another Puffball since she was a young child. She's almost completely forgotten others like her exist

Her family is still alive, but their whereabouts are unknown

Mint is one of my oldest characters. I came up with her initial design and story around 2012!