#Provided they're not a monster who's hurting anyone

[subconsciousmysteries]

boomers n X'ers are mad that millennials Gen Z have woken up to all the child abusive norms in our society and we no longer give our parents respect just because they're our parents and teh bibble says so.

We also woke up to the fact that their politically passive and materialistic youth, where they took out a bunch of cheap usury loans and did nothing to stand up against central banking, has destroyed the economy for future generations. they have the audacity to call us lazy conspiracy theorists and essentially gaslight us for noticing such things.

A friend once told me she thinks that boomers and gen X are competing with their kids in this weird gross game to prove they're more successful and better, and I have to agree. They show no empathy for their own children's suffering, it's a generation full of casual and normalized narcissistic personality. I think this is a direct consequence of their culture which didn't encourage them to question their parents and see the humiliation and abuse they faced as children for what it is, unlike our culture today does. They actually believed that parents had kids out of virtue and selflessness and that the kids were obligated to repay the parents, not the other way around.

I notice a lack of individuation from the parents in most of Boomer and Gen X individuals. a "children must obey their parents" mentality. or... replace "obey" with "please" or "impress". Anyone with this mentality is primed for the narcissism demon. They will feel the constant need to prove themselves to the parents, to prove that they're successful and more worthy of praise, because in their eyes the parents can do no wrong and it is always their fault if the parent is abusing them or neglecting them. Then they project this gross mentality onto their children.

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Love Bites {Masterlist}

With your memory spotty, you gravitate toward the first person you see—an old friend from a very old past. But Astarion is keeping plenty of secrets...and he's never been the best liar. How long will it take before his deceptions unravel? And what will you do when you realize just how much damage he's done?

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, vampire spawn!Tav, fem!Tav, manipulative but guilty/regretful Astarion, Astarion's sexual trauma, Cazador, vampire bite, reader is turned into a spawn, reader is technically one of Astarion's victims

18+ Warnings: vaginal sex, consensual sex, mirror sex, riding, fingering, oral, blood kink, bite kink, loving sex, non-descriptive noncon/dubcon (Astarion’s trauma), Astarion experimenting with his boundaries

Total Word Count: 47,397 words (87 pages)

Notes: The title of this fic (and some of its chapter titles) is heavily inspired by Def Leppard's song Love Bites.

Posting Schedule can be found on my {Updates Page}

CONTENT NOTE: Where Astarion's perspective comes into this fic, I tried writing his experience with his hurt that he has been treated this way along with his "this is what I do" mentality; he's very back and forth about the abuse he's endured and some of my writing reflects that. If that upsets you or makes you uncomfortable in anyway, I completely understand and I encourage you to leave the fic at any point. However, I do believe writing this perspective is necessary, as his blasé take on his sexual trauma is one that I myself have struggled with, as I am sure other survivors have as well.

☟ story parts linked below ��

Best Unremembered {Chapter 1} Waking up with a spotty memory and the only person you do remember is jarring enough—but it only gets worse when the people who remember you are monsters and strangers.

Walking Corpses {Chapter 2} Astarion's night spent searching for prey is interrupted by an unwelcome feeling of familiarity. Your life is derailed by recognizing a long-dead friend.

Little Love {Chapter 3} Appearances can be deceiving, but they can also tell you everything you need to know. A second look at the elf you once called a friend is all you need to fill in the two-hundred year gap.

The Golden Elf {Chapter 4} Sometimes, vampires choose their spawn specifically. Sometimes, they're in the wrong place at the wrong time and are lost to their loved ones for centuries. These days, that's all you can think about.

Little Star, Little Sun {Chapter 5} A long-awaited reunion that doesn't go quite as planned can lead to many things, especially when two manipulators both lay their traps for one another. Though is it really a trap when all you want to do is spare your lover from yet another night of torment?

Love Bites {Chapter 6} Astarion remembers you, but it's already too late. He's bedded you and remembered the love and life you had together, two hundred years ago, and now he has to make a choice. Does he sacrifice himself, or does he sacrifice you?

Love Bleeds {Chapter 7} Fangs gleam in the shadows and a coffin lies open nearby. Vampire lords are nasty creatures; even a changed heart can do very little when there are claws around it.

On My Knees {Chapter 8} A betrayal so severe even centuries of love threaten to break beneath its weight. Yet you offer forgiveness, even if Astarion has not felt its kindness in two hundred years.

Second Chances {Epilogue} Home is a place and home is people. You have quite the large family now, and it's time to provide for them, however you may.

Love Bites Soundtrack — 3h50min

Chapter 1: tracks 1 - 6 Chapter 2: tracks 7 - 13 Chapter 3: tracks 14 - 19 Chapter 4: tracks 20 - 26 Chapter 5: tracks 27 - 32 Chapter 6: tracks 33 - 40 Chapter 7: tracks 41 - 46 Chapter 8: tracks 47 - 53 Epilogue: tracks 54 - 60

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @kiyastrf94 @vincemachina @silverfangmarks @ravenswritingroom @hinata7346 @hellethil @caramel-hufflepuff @beemiilk @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @starwatch77 @julianmarie @sadexistentialism @supernaturallover15 @writinghound @frankie-mercury @kindadolly @infernalrusalka

[disgruntledexplainer]

It's kinda fascinating looking at the differences between Ben's and Rex's approaches to combat. I'm not talking fighting style, I'm talking about how they carry themselves, and interact with their opponents and bystanders.

Ben 10 is motivated to heroics primarily by his dislike of bullies, though it can sometimes be masked by his love of the limelight. he sees his opponents as bullies, picking on people who can't defend themselves in order to make themselves feel more powerful. in fact, almost all of his major villains fall into this category, including Vilgax, Kevin 11 (before redemption), Hex, Charmcaster, the Highbreed, and Agreggor. When Ben approaches combat, he approaches it as someone intervening in a schoolyard fight. He gets in between the aggressor and the victim, transforms into one of his more intimidating aliens even if it isn't the right one for the job, squares his soldiers, looks his enemy in the eyes, and demands that they redirect their aggression. He even uses phrases like "why don't you pick on someone your own size". He doesn't usually harbor any real ill will toward his opponent, but he wants them to stop what they're doing immediately.

The story of Ben 10 is the story of a kid who got bullied through much of his childhood, who suddenly gained the power to stand up to the bullies for the sake of other kids, and adults as the case may be.

Rex's approach to combat is a bit more complex, because he basically has 2 varieties of enemies, and thus 2 "modes"; hero mode and soldier mode.

The majority of Rex's opponents are EVOs. These are normal, regular innocent people who have become monsters through no fault of their own. To Rex they aren't bullies, they aren't even enemies; they are just innocent, sick, scared, and extremely dangerous people. Rex wants to help them, and indeed he really is the only one who CAN. But he can't let them hurt anyone else. Rex is also very conscious of his position, the fact that to so many people he represents hope of getting out of this dark time. When dealing with most of his foes, Rex first aims a blow at his target to knock them back and hopefully stun them, and then if there are any people in immediate danger he checks in on them quickly to see if they are OK. He might try to get them out of the area before engaging, or he might delegate that task to a nearby providence agent or less powerful hero as the case may be, but he usually checks regardless.

If he is convinced that everyone around him is at a safe distance, the show begins. He turns his cockyness and snark up to 11 and begins making aggressive, annoying moves to try to focus his opponents aggression on him. He projects confidence to everyone who can see him, to assure them that yes, he has everything under control, and everything will be fine so long as they follow his instructions. He carefully gauges how much punishment his opponent can take and only uses that much to take them down, even if it extends the fight. He will try to stun his opponent and cure them if possible, and if not he will hold them off long enough for Providence to come in and contain them.

By dramatic contrast, his other opponents are typically not just villains, but actual irredeemable psychopaths, the kinds who will maim, torture, or kill if it suits their purposes, or even just because it amuses them. In this case, as soon as Rex realizes what kind of opponent he is facing he switches "modes" almost instantly. He will immediately try to lure his opponent as far away from a populated area as possible, and if that isn't possible he will task providence agents or minor heroes to move everyone out as fast as possible. Then he fully switches to soldier mode. When in this mode, Rex's goal is to take his opponent down fast and hard, using lethal methods if necessary. Every second his opponent remains standing is an opportunity for that opponent to kill someone, so he has to take them down without hesitation. Just look at the difference in how Rex treats everyday EVOs compared to how he treats his main antagonists, like Van Kleiss or Quarry. He goes straight for the kill, sometimes without even saying anything if the opportunity presents itself. This is the result of his paramilitary background and painful experience.

anyways, these are my thoughts.

[lririx]

so, hypothetically, demi with a lady dimitrescu like hunter partner? i love both these women and i think the worlds should collide, my sapphic ass is hella WEAK for them

I love Demi so much I can't😭 My lesbian loving heart can't handle a ship like this it's so cute😭I hope you enjoy it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

•Low and behold a new hunter has come to the Manor with no sign of wanting to show any mercy towards anyone.

•A terrifying yet beautiful woman who is about 10 foot tall. No one knows her story. All they know is that if they end up in a match with her they're done for.

•Due to her condition she needs blood to stay alive and somehow the Manor provides the blood needed.

•She was a Nobel before she came to the Manor so she's used to ordering people around. She sees herself above all the other hunters but devotes herself to Miss. Nightingale.

•She obeys her every word and does nothing that might anger her. The hunters in the Manor were intimidated by her. Her demeanour was what caused it. No one thought she'd open up to anyone.

•So how in the world did this happen? Is she plotting something? Why is she dating a survivor? And that survivors is Demi?

•No one knows how this relationship came to be. Even Miss. Nightingale is confused about it. The hunter who showed no mercy even to the hunters is in love?

•Demi and The lady are quite different. Demi is a sweet ball of sunshine who wants to help everyone and bring joy to the Manor while the hunter wants to go on a murder spree.

•Well, their hobbies might have made them get closer. Both of them love to drink and listen to jazz all day. They adore dancing too.

•Sometimes music can be heard in one of the rooms and when people go and check on it they see two drunk love birds happily dancing to the song.

•The lady protects Demi all the time. She’s not overprotective, but deals with the trouble if Demi’s not capable of doing it.

•She never hits Demi during matches. Not even in a playful way. While she’s obliterating the survivors, Demi just stands there drinking and lovingly looking at her lover.

•If Demi asks The lady to not hurt anyone during the match, she will obey her instantly. Everyone sighs of relief whenever she does this.

•She can turn into a dragon like monster aswell and let's Demi get on top of her and she just flies away.

•Demi is around 5’6 and the lady is like 10 foot so the height differences is quite something. The lady has to kneel for Demi to be able to kiss her. Demi sometimes gets a chair or a stool or ever gets on the table to kiss her.

•Demi is a switch but The lady is a dom. Though she will be a bottom from time to time to make Demi happy.

•Sex with The lady is quite an experience. BDSM is something that will constantly happen during it. Good thing Demi enjoys it.

•Drinks and alcohol are always on the bedside table next to candles and incenses.

•Remember how I said the lady needs blood? Well yeah she bites Demi's neck and drinks it during sex and makeouts.

•Both of them will have visible bite marks and hickies the next day.

•And on a daily basis she takes Demi’s hand and drinks her blood.

•They call eachother mommy on the bed.

•If she’s talking to Demi and someone interrupts her she’ll bite their head off.

•Pet names. They will constantly use Pet names on eachother like “Sweetheart” “Dear” “Love”.

•They love showering together. They go in the bath and brush eachothers hair while kissing eqchothers neck. It gets steamy sometimes.

•Both of them wear red lipstick and they kiss eachother on the lips, cheeks and neck before a match and neither of them wipes it off.

•They wander around the Manor together while laughing and drinking. They just look like the sweetest couple during those times.

[chaifootsteps]

while it's nice to see Vivzie finally acknowledge Stella is worthy of pity 'in her own way' (something about the phrasing on that tweet rubs me the wrong way tbh, feels like they're implying her pain is like less important or valid or something? might just be me) it's kind of frustrating to see the end of the tweet say 'that doesn't absolve her of the pain she's caused', because like

I haven't seen many people making that argument, tbh?

like sure there are Stella stans who unironically say she was in the right to order a hit on him and it's fair retribution, but I don't think they're the majority

the majority of fans & former fans I've seen are just frustrated at how much of a caricature Stella is; as a portrait of an abuser she's incredibly poorly done and as an intended Hate Sink with no redeeming qualities she's frustrating because her backstory is just as tragic as Stolas', arguably more so because she has way less power & social mobility than him yet we're supposed to treat her like an irreedemable monster because the writers decided she was evil since birth.

I don't pity her because I like her or because I excuse anything she's said or done to Stolas. I pity her because I look at her backstory and can easily imagine how much of a nightmare her life is & how the fandom only ever seems to consider the 'arranged marriage' part of it and not the laundry list of other things that are awful about Stella's life. And I pity her because she reminds me of people IRL - mostly women - who are stuck in awful circumstances then are victimized twice by people who, if they even recognize the circumstances are bad, don't care about how that influences the person they currently are or why they behave in ways that seem inexplicable to us

for example the whole Stella likes throwing parties thing. we're obviously supposed to take it as a sign she's vapid and shallow, but what else is she supposed to do? at least if she throws parties misery can have company & her friends can visit. We see Stolas make fun of her for not knowing how to spell, but was she ever expected to be literate or allowed to have interests outside of raising a child she didn't want? the show just doesn't care to answer what society looks like for someone in her position. her interests only matter insofar as they provide a vector for the viewer to hate her some more

(going back to the recent discussions around MLP it's so noticeable they went out of their way to avoid 'stereotypical feminine interest = worthy of scorn' by having Rarity & Pinkie's interests be fashion and parties and the rest of the cast being chill about that even if they don't share that enthusiasm)

I know there are some proposed fix it scenarios in your inbox that often throw in 'and then Striker kills Stolas' as a closer but like even those don't sound like they approve of Stella or anything she does. far as I can tell they just hate Stolas and are tired of him because the show keeps insisting he's a perfect angel who never means to hurt anyone so that makes it OK. there's no chance of getting any catharsis seeing Blitzo or anyone else stand up to him, so we have to imagine it. It's even more galling considering Stella keeps most of her ire focused on Stolas whereas Stolas is exploiting and gaslighting a member of the lower classes. I mean at least Stella seems to have no delusions about who or what she is, she knows she's being awful and she revels in it. Stolas meanwhile is in total delusion about who he is and what he's done & the show is running out of chances to fix that

so like yeah, nothing Stella has suffered absolves her of her treatment of Stolas. But that exact logic applies to Stolas, too, yet the show wants us to show him more than pity - it expects us to like and empathize with him while he frees Blitzo from sexual slavery mainly because he feels entitled to love & affection that he's not getting and was never owed

That's what it boils down to, really. Stella's not allowed a free pass, while Stolas is allowed to hurt whoever he wants for any reason.

[viridwns]

Short drabble I will write into a fic.

Tw: Douma (I think I'm so funny for doing this)

You lived in a pretty isolated village. It was ik the middle of a forest with the neighboring village being a good 5 day travel distance.

Everybody knew each other, and your community was pretty tight.

You loved the place that was your home. Being the village doctor's daughter, you knew your way around the woods and the many properties it possessed. Like healing herbs and poisonous plants. You knew them all by heart.

There was only one problem with your village.

It was plagued by a monster. A human eating, demanding, blood thirsty monster. It comes at night, haunting the streets that were full of energy during the daytime, now deadly silent.

This monster has been torturing your village since before your time. There is no record of it, no visible evidence of how it looks. There has been only one witness to the monster who killed himself only mere days after coming into contact with it.

He said it was the devil. A monster wearing human skin to allure maidens into its den and consume them while they're still breathing.

It had a honey sweet voice, giving you a false sense of security. And that never faltering grin of it, showing off its pearly white canines that have carnaged hundreds.

The man was left alive to send a message.

The monster would leave the village alone if they could provide him with a, preferably female, sacrafice every full moon.

This agreement was set long before you were born. The village chiefs had tried everything to avoid it, but carnage would fall upon the village if it got broken.

To avoid civil war, the village chief made a sacred rule on who would be chosen as sacrafice.

If anyone broke a singular law, they would become the sacraficial lamb.

Of course, there were times unfortunate souls came stumbling upon your lovely village.

They would never make it home.

You found the whole ordeal awful. Although you never worried about being picked, you did pity the souls who were.

The sacrifices ranged from wife beaters to children stealing bread because they were hungry. Even speaking up against the village chief and his family could get you a free ticket to the afterlife.

Trying to leave was of no use. In one way or another, you'd winde up dead. By a human hand or a monster's, it all would end in the same fate.

Even if you could leave, you couldn't bare the thought of abandoning your duty as a medic.

You held too much value for your village.

They, apparantly, didn't hold you close to their hearts as you were forced out of your home and tied to a tree.

The village chief's son was standing opposite of you, laughing.

This couldn't be because you rejected his romantic advances, right?

Oh that petty motherfucker.

Night dawned, and you were still trying to wriggle yourself loose. The chief, his son, and two other men were keeping an eye on you. They made sure the package got delivered.

You tried to stiffle your pained groan as you pulled both your thumbs out of their socket to glide them through the tight rope around your wrists.

The sun had set, and you bolted.

You knew you couldn't outrun them and, of course, the fear of running into the monster had you searching for a hiding spot.

It began to rain, both an advantage and a disadvantage.

You eventually hid under a tree. The roots sticking above ground far enough for you to have forced yourself under.

You held still when the four men were right next to the tree you were hiding under. You could only hear their voices, the rain making them almost invisible.

You noted a new voice joining the conversation. The others seemed to freeze at this person's presence.

You waited for the first rays of sunlight to come out of your hiding spot.

You were tired, tense, dirty, and hurt. Adding dehydration and hunger to the mix made you collapse in the middle of the woods. An area you were not familiar with no less.

You were found by people in strange robes. You couldn't even protest as they took you to their home.

They nurtured you, gave you a place to stay and recover. It didn't take long for them to tell them about the cult they were in, where you were housed.

You didn't really care for it. As long as you could stay, get fed and be away from the village that betrayed you, you didn't mind.

In return for their help you stayed as the cult's nurse. Playing along with believing in their founder was a small price to pay, you just wanted to do your job again.

It wasn't for weeks until you actually met the leader of the cult.

You couldn't help but stare a little.

He had outwordly eyes and strange hair, but by the lord was he handsome.

He wanted to get acquainted with the new nurse. It would be rude of him not to officially welcome new members.

He was strange to you. Always smiling, childish, but caring.

You didn't know what to think of him.

He seemed familiar though.

You swore you have never seen the man. You would surely remember someone as charming as him.

But his voice, you swear you've heard his voice before.

It was honey sweet, and whenever he talked to you, you felt safe.

Maybe it's just your mind playing tricks on you.

[blacklegsanjiii]

can we have more fluff or hurt/comfort with shirohige!sanjis relationships with the whitebeard ctew? whether its during sanjis childhood or maybe after he becomes a strawhat but i adore the potential here

Alright, this is going to be a list style type of thing lets go!!!!!

Marco: He is the most protective and loving brother Sanji has. He was the only one who could hold Sanji for a long time due to his injuries and with Marco being both a doctor and having been a brat under White Beard for as long as he was he knows all the nooks and crannies that the Moby Dick has to hide brats. He can find Sanji whenever and where ever. He taught Sanji the constellations on nights where the trauma or anxiety kept him awake or when Sanji would wake up screaming in the medical bay from nightmares. He also took Sanji out for his first escapade against the Marines causing Sanji to get his bounty of 100 million Beri at sixteen. Marco is proud because his was similar at fifteen when he stole his fruit from the Marines.

He absolutely keeps Sanji's poster in his medical file. When the one he got for joining the Strawhat crew come out he laughs so hard he cries. Who the fuck is that? That's not Shirohige Sanji?(White Leg Sanji?) For a while that's the only thing keeping them sane, especially when they lose track of Ace. And then when they lose track of Sanji while he's fighting Akainu, Sengoku, and Kizaru?? Fuck. Fuck that's his baby brother. He's so proud of Sanji that if he died fighting it was against those fucks but his baby brother might be dead and he's so fucking upset. He claims first rights to Teach.

Thatch: Sanji's funniest brother and Sanji doesn't claim favorites(It's Marco, anyway) but Thatch teaches him so much. He provides Sanji with cookbooks and nutrition books and explains a lot of the science behind food and taste. It's just that he keeps saying he's married to Ace before they're even dating. Unfortunately Thatch dies so he doesn't get to see Sanji join the Strawhat crew or anything and it hits Sanji so hard when he knows Thatch won't see the actual wedding or anything.

Vista: Taught Sanji to use swords until he decided to just focus on more physical forms of combat. The proudest brother Sanji has. He has shown Sanji off at every possible turn. Claims his cooking was better than Thatch's when Thatch was alive. When Sanji was older and started setting himself on fire he once brandished Sanji's leg as a sword as a joke. Had Sanji in his grip and was just like "USE YOUR CORE" as he jokingly fended off Jozu.

Jozu: The hardest on Sanji. He taught Sanji all about haki and trained his observation and armament and he and Marco have a running theory that Sanji can feel the friction of his blood and use that to set himself on fire. Genuinely thinks Ace and Sanji will be the death of him, Sanji especially because he doesn't have a fruit, can kick a man thirty yards off ship and is the best swimmer. Has told Marco and Pops on numerous occasions that they need to keep a very close eye in case anything else develops. And when he sees Sanji can sky walk he points at Sanji and says to Marco "That sorta shit, that shit right there was what I meant." Marco is losing it.

Izou: Helps Sanji with his gender expression from a young age. Carried Sanji around when he was younger since Oden and Toki took Hiyori and Momonosuke to Wano after leaving with Roger. Tells Sanji all about the title of 'Monster' and how the Government bestows it upon people. He explains that it's up the individual to live up to the title. Izou is the first person to hear Sanji explain he wants to be a monster. To make those who hurt him fear him. Izou smiles and assures him he will do that. In Wano Sanji, Ace and Marco are crying at the loss of another brother. Especially one who smiled so brightly and expressed himself so freely.

White Beard: Best dad Sanji ever had. Would let little Sanji fall asleep on him after particularly long days and will not let anyone take Sanji from him because "he's my last, dammit! Can't exactly hold the rest of you shits!"

Spoils the fuck out of Sanji as he knows everyone else is doing the hard work of discipline on the baby. When he saw Sanji light his legs on fire and Teach was done with he took Sanji to his office and wrapped him in several blankets and then is like "Alright come here brat" and then just holds him and tells him about people gifted without fruits. Sanji suddenly realizes that his dad is dying and White Beard comforts him and says he has some years left.

Ace: Husband. Fell in love with this brash 18 year old boy who tried to kill his dad. Decided to say fuck it and fuck him. And succeeded on both aspects. Sanji absolutely spoils Ace with food and Ace spoils back by keeping the cook warm. Everyone finds them gross. Showers Sanji is kisses and drives everyone mad with how touchy he is. Not that Sanji would have him any other way. It's just how the Shirohige are.

[definitelynotshouting]

i literally can't stop rotating hunger au worldbuilding and lore in my head. forgive me if you've ever touched on this in an ask before, but... re: the existential horror of being a parasite that has the sense of self of the host it ate. if one of grian's friends ever did get taken and used as a watcher larva host. how do you think he would feel about the watcher that came out the other side? would he want to see them as still the same person as his friend, or...?

Ive been staring at this ask since i got it with like. I need you to picture the most comically heartbroken expression right now okay. like this is me reading that and thinking about it in great and terrible detail:

Gods he would be devastated if this ever happened. He knows what thats like. He knows just how much it hurts-- and that its not a hurt that can be quantified, because its just that intense, that scalding, that encompassing of an experience to go through. I think, genuinely, Grian would be so utterly horrified and grief-stricken for whichever friend went through the Watcherification process that it would trump every other potential feeling on the list

But i think, ultimately, he would still view them as his friend, and treat them in the same way. There's a little bit of hypocrisy in Grian's character that i enjoy engaging with while writing him, and a good part of that in hunger au is centered around how he's firmly designated himself as the monster, and everybody else is the victim, and theres no room for nuance because he sucks and theyre the only people who are valid. When in reality, yes he hurt them, yes he did terrible and invasive things, but he did them out of pure survival rather than maliciousness, and that does make a subtle difference. And... hes not the only one who has fucked up, either!! The entire point of hunger au is how everyone has fumbled the bag in various ways and now they're all trying to clean it up together. Its just, yknow, Grian is so wrapped up in his own pain that he cant see those grey areas yet

And the thing is, if one of his friends got Watchered™, so to speak, and was standing in front of him, i think he would treat them with SO much compassion. Theyve been through possibly the worst thing anyone can experience and come out the other side-- at his core, Grian is i think a character who wants to do good, and do good by other people, and in this hypothetical that would translate into a lot of kindness he doesnt usually afford for himself. Honestly i think he'd spend the time trying to show them the ropes, get them set up in a better position than he found himself in, and provide his own fumbling emotional support as best he could, just out of sheer solidarity. Like, he gets it. He's been there. He may as well help out.

And i think he wouldnt even realize how hypocritical he's being until someone else pointed it out to him, about how he treats this friend with so much care but is simultaneously cruel to himself. I dont think he'd know how to handle that-- he's sort of dug himself a rut in the road with the way he thinks about and treats himself, and the cognitive dissonance would be really uncomfortable for him. Ultimately a good thing!!! Growth is often very uncomfortable. But imo Grian has a tendency to run from things like feelings of discomfort, so i think it'd take him a while to reconcile his previous ways of thinking with whats being presented in front of him essentially in the form of a mirror.

So uh. tl;dr: he'd be a little hypocrite about it and would feel a lot more compassionately inclined towards the friend than he does himself, and would try to help them out as best he could. Thank you for the incredible question that has given me the opportunity to rotate this worm at even higher speeds than usual inside my brainpan DKNFEKNDSKDJKDKD

[tatertato]

life series smp winners playlists part 1

okay so i've been just absolutely brainrotting over this for like weeks now and its time to finally post it!

i've basically just been compiling songs that i think fit each of the life series winners, and they're either songs i've seen work really really well in animatics already or songs that would probably work really well, but are less popular or not associated with this fandom (yet)

i'll be linking+listing them here as well as providing little snippets of explanation for why i think the song fits, but i don't feel like making actual spotify playlists or smth, so if anyone else wants to do that, be my guest.

ofc i still had trouble finding good songs for some of them- if anyone seeing this has a good idea that i missed, lmk and i'll update these posts (no promises tho)

i was originally gonna put all of them into one post, but fortunately i have come to my senses, so this is part 1. here we go!

update:

pt 2 (LL!scott)

pt 3 (DL!pearl)

3rd Life: Grian

Eighth Wonder - Lemon Demon: this song gives major Watcher!Grian vibes imo

Extra clever Earth-bound spirit Ghost in the form Of a mongoose (watcher in the form of a player)

Hello, I'm here I'm living in the wall I know I might be small (common headcanons of short grian, also living surrounded by cactus walls!)

Jim, let me go I watch like Hell (self-explanatory)

2. A Big Day for Grimley - AJJ: this one is because of this animatic, and also the lyrics fit the characters almost too well

I went back to the desert, little Midwest in me And now I am colder than I used to be (it feels like him reflecting on his experiences in 3L)

I came back to the desert, and the desert came into me And now there’s a quietness, and it’s deafening (returned to the desert for the final duel, and now that he's the only one left, the absence of his partner is deafening)

i could go on much longer about this song, but i feel like the animatic sums it up really well so GO WATCH THAT GO GO GO

3. Take Me to War - The Crane Wives: i know that everyone and their mother has done desertduo crane wives, but i've yet to see anyone use this song, which is a shame since its one of my favorites!

I've earned myself a reputation That my bark is much worse than my bite But I keep snapping at Goliath's hands With all of my tiny might (technically, he's not red, and also his traps keep failing, so the threats are pretty empty, but that will not stop him from being a menace)

Take me to war Honey, I dare you I'll be the sweetest thing To ever scare you Give me a fight I can't resist Give me something to break with my fists Take me to war Honey, I dare you (same thing as the last one, but i had to put the chorus in this post, it's just too perfect)

So I will leave it where it's standing And instead I will find me a match I'll turn it all to kindling I'll burn it all down to ash (we love a bit of arson in this fandom)

4. Community Gardens - The Scary Jokes: this is watcher!grian again, sorry not sorry- i do have a really vivid image in my head of an animatic for this song tho (the brainrot goes deep, i cannot escape)

Full disclosure, I am a monster A creature of despair, not that that should be a cause for concern (its so watcher coded im gnawing on the walls)

You'll be fine, you honeycomb Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so cold? You'll be fine, oh, honey pie Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so unkind? (ok so remember when i said i had an animatic idea about two sentences ago? ya. so i imagine this part as watcher!grian going through and causing the final deaths of all the winners (except scar we'll get there i promise) for instance, smiting scott at the end of LL, severing pearl's soulmate string in DL, and checking the time left before killing martyn in LimL)

The culmination of man's mistakes came the day The sun ran so hot, it turned the desert to glass (this is the whole "hail mary" thing where they blew up the whole desert and still didn't kill anyone)

If there's something to be learned from all these losers It's that the price that you pay For arrogance and a false sense of immunity Is to face the wrath of a dying star (false sense of immunity is scar's no kill passes, reputation points, etc., which really didn't mean all that much in the end (see: Bdubs))

5. Passerine - The Oh Hellos: aside from the obvious bird symbolism (passerine are songbirds), the overall theme of this song fits the character pretty well! (i think it could also apply to DL jimmy if you squint)

You were the song that I'd always sing You were the light that the fire would bring But I can't shake this feeling that I was only Pushing the spear into your side again (3L typical desert/light/sun/fire imagery, with a bonus helping this time of 3L typical self doubt and/or survivor's guilt! you love to see it)

My palms and fingers still reek of gasoline From throwing fuel to the fire of that Greco-Roman dream Purifying the holy rock to melt the gilded seams It don't bring me relief, no it don't bring me nothing (more arson what can i say- also the hollow existentialism that comes with killing your friends)

When he comes a knocking at my door What am I to do, What am I to do, oh lord (ok i like to imagine this line as grian realizing that scar's SL win means he goes to hang out with the winners now, meaning uhoh reunion time! that's about to be awkward!)

6. Do It All The Time - IDKHBTFM: yeah i know it doesn't seem like it fits at first, but i think parts of it captures the spontaneous silliness of 3L pretty well

No reason why I'm only doing anything I want to do Because I do it all the time We're taking over the world A little victim-less crime (making monopolies (or trying to) really just because)

Now we're so young But we're probably gonna die It's so fun We're so good at selling lies (this one's pretty on the nose, but you get the idea)

and that's all for grian! stay tuned for LL!scott next!

[mellifluousprince]

in progressive spaces there are so many unique, personable expressions of what it means to be a woman, and how girlhood is this beautiful open ended thing that everyone has their own definition of. I think it's wonderful to see women bond over their shared experiences & find companionship in each other as a result. meanwhile, what it means to be a man is essentially getting pigeonholed into this idea of being some violent, sex-obsessed beast; both by obnoxious men who keep pushing the whole alpha male manosphere garbage, and by women who see that trend & then view all men that way, ascribing every man with the label of a monster in order to protect themselves. there's nowhere else you can go. if you try to strike out on your own and define masculinity in your own way, in the eyes of everyone else you just fade into obscurity. it's like you don't even exist. the worst part is, it feels like i'm the only one who wants masculinity to have a broader meaning. so many other men i know want so badly to live up to this ridiculous ideal being forced on them. meanwhile i've known my whole life that i'll never be an "alpha male", because i don't want to be. but even if you don't subscribe to all the manosphere stuff and live your life free of those toxic expectations, as long as you're a man you'll only be thought of as bland and uninteresting. Women are seen as these inherently ethereal gorgeous beings(they're not, they're just people and saying this just further pressures them into feeling like they need to be attractive objects, but that's a different post), and men are either monsters or...nobodies. "Just some guy". John Doe. If that's what you want, then that's all well and good. But is that really all there is to being a man? when you strip away all of those preconceived notions about how men should look or behave or be seen by others, then what is masculinity, really? ideally, it should be the same as femininity in the sense that it's whatever you want it to be. you can see yourself in a traditional sense, as a proud, strong warrior who fights for honor & protects and provides for his loved ones, or a more non-traditional way, a demure prince who waits calmly for a princess or knight or other lover to sweep him off his feet. you can romanticize yourself as anyone you want: a hardworking scholar who wants to learn as much as he can or improve the world around him, a powerful athlete who lives for the joy of sport, an early-bird baker who embraces the quiet life, an iron-willed blacksmith who endures the forge to arm his brothers and sisters, a singer who lends his strong voice to uplifting the oppressed, a warm-hearted husband and/or father who has so many good wishes for others. sky's the limit. i understand why women often put men in a box and view men the way that they do. if you don't know a man's intentions, it's safer to lead with distrust. but i know in my heart that i would never hurt anyone like that, and so i don't want my personal sense of masculinity to be defined by those men who do such horrid things. i don't think any man should personally feel like their masculinity is synonymous with being a monster. i think they should burn the manosphere to the ground and just find the answer themselves. what's manlier than that? someday i hope people will feel comfortable enough to no longer think of masculinity as this stagnant, unmoving collection of violent, angry traits. i want it to be sought after and romanticized the same way femininity often is; as another equally glorious representation of what it means to be human.

[jellymellydraws]

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Astarion x Dark Urge Chapter 20 -- The Blade of Frontier's Guide to Goblins. Rating: E Tags: Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn

Chapter Summary:

In the dungeons of the Selune Temple, Rose's party prepares to save Master Halsin. Before they can charge in, they need to know what type of enemy they were dealing with. Wyll, The Blade of Frontiers, gives them a Monster Hunter's knowledge on goblinkind. Now, they were ready to save a druid.

The stench of rot and stench wafted from the depths below. Its fetor lingered in the corridor, greeting the guests who eased open the door. A parade of people dipped inside, assaulted by the horrendous odor. 

"Even without a tadpole swimming in their heads," Wyll began, "goblins are a nasty thing to fight unprepared. Hells, they wouldn't be a terror on commonfolk otherwise."

Their eyes watered in the smog, but they successfully ducked into the nearest room. Once hidden from the nauseating air, Alfira went to work, shaving the remaining pieces of soap onto squares of cloth. With a few quick folds, a simple mask was formed. Once worn, it provided a pleasant odor for those who were desperately trying to keep their lunch down. Astarion snatched the first one, burying his nose and inhaling like it were his first breath of life. It wasn't much better, but it would do.

"First thing to remember: they're pack monsters. Like wolves, they'll fight in a group. Keep them separated. Don't let them run for help-- they will overwhelm you. A handful is trouble enough. A whole hive? We'd be lucky to make it out alive, even at our strongest."

Chop. Chop. Chop.

The butcher worked at a stubborn carcas. Stout, blocky, and thick with muscle. The cleaver parted flesh from bone, stopped only by the wooden surface. Juices seeped into the table cracks as it greedily drank every last drop. 

"I could get used to all these raids," the butcher smirked as he separated body parts on a shelf along the wall.

"Yeh?" His buddy, lounging in a chair next to the cutting table, hacked a cough as he laughed. His filthy feet were propped up on the table, with little care for how close he was to touching raw meat. "I could get used to all the food. Best I've eaten in months!" He grabbed one of the cuts placed on the shelf behind him, and ripped a piece off with his teeth.

"Second: do not let them get those worgs out. They may look like giant mangy wolves but they're smarter-- more cunning. They don't need to take orders from their keeper to know there's an enemy to rip to shreds."

Two large creatures sniffed between the bars of their shared pen. Their coarse, patchy, fur barely covered their legs and chest. Their bald faces revealed a clever glint in their eyes. The promise of food was enough for them to whine oh so innocently. Less like wild wolves, more like domesticated dogs.

"Yer spendin' too much time with the worgs, Zurk. It ain't natural." The butcher eyed the intruding toes wiggling too close to the hindquarters he was working through.

"Ah, shut it Vrak!"

Vrak swung down, chopping the carcas's leg clean from the hip. Zurk jerked back, saving his dirty little piggies from an untimely separation.

"Never seen anyone take to eatin' raw meat like you. Sure you're right in the 'ead?"

Zurk cracked another laugh while he padded towards the begging beasts. "I'm just makin' sure the pups are eatin' good." He tossed the snack to the creatures, who eagerly scarfed up whatever bit they could wrestle from their penmate. ''Least the animals I hang about aren't dead."

"Third: they always have a hierarchy. Usually, a hobgoblin or other smarter goblinoids among them. In smaller groups, one of them rises up as the de facto commander."

A goblin woman stood in front of cold iron bars, arms crossed as she eyed the mass of brown fur circling within. The bear huffed, practically spinning in place with how little space was left for his mighty paws to pace.

"Hey Birka!" Zurk shouted across the room, "when we goin' to feed the pups a prime cut o' bear?"

A sinister grin stretched over her face, revealing a row of pointed yellow teeth.

"Whoever it is, they'd be the strongest and nastiest of the bunch-- barking commands and even using other goblins as shields if they need to. Take them out first, the others won't know what to do."

Wyll carefully laid out each detail he knew about goblinkind. All the while, scented masks were being made and passed around. After Astarion took his, Gale and Shadowheart partook in the remedy. Alfira covered her own face, lifting the last mask towards Rose. She shook her head, declining the offer.

"How in the hells can you breathe?" Astarion hissed through his mask.

"Through my nose," she shrugged a shoulder casually, "quite easily, actually. Lae'zel isn't having any issues, either."

Lae'zel smiled proudly.

His retort was choked out by sickly coughing and gagging. She couldn't help but snicker at his misfortune, but she offered a pat to his back to help him out.

"The poor fragile nostrils of our sensitive Art-starion," she cooed teasingly.

The Blade cut into the playful bickering, "Everyone take a minute to breathe, it's sure to be worse once we get down there."

"Ugh," the elf groan, "And I thought the mindflayer ship smelt bad..."

Up to that point, all Rose had was an idea of what she wanted to achieve: free the druid, kill the goblins, cover their involvement. They were goals, not a strategy. She felt the fragments of one start falling into place during The Blade's brief lesson on goblins, but it wasn't quite there yet. When Astarion steadied his breathing, she directed her attention back the Monster Hunter. 

"They've made this place their home, is there anything we should keep an eye out for?"

"Small holes. They use them to burrow in and out of their hives for convenience, or to make quick escapes."

Free the druid, block the exits, kill the goblins, cover their involvement.

Could they manage that? Security in this place was scarce, but a druid captive had to be where their forces were focused, right?

Last thing they needed was to start an ambush, only to get swarmed and overwhelmed. The thought of being taken by surprise made the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

"Before we do anything, I want to know how many goblins we're dealing with down there, and I want eyes on Master Halsin."

Tucked away in a side room, behind toppled pews and tables askew, the party crouched in the furthest corner from the doorway. Shadowheart dragged a piece of chalk against the stone floor. Though her eyes were closed, her hand steadily drew connecting squares and marked the spots where they could expect stairs. A small flickering flame, illuminating the developing map, was held by Lae'zel. It was kept steady, and she knew how to hover her hand to control the light's direction. A bundle of bells were muffled by periwinkle hands, as Alfira held them in her fists; not even her breathing would risk a jingle. Wyll also kept his eyes closed, muttering under his breath. Gale was crouched beside him, scribbling whatever he could hear from their Monster Hunter. Rose, focused on the forming blueprint before her, immediately thinking of how it would affect her planning.

Hardly anything would keep them from the Druid, just a cell door and goblin guard. They had yet to be detected, and they could block the doorways if necessary. But without any other exits, they would need to explain to the drow how the druid escaped without anyone noticing.

"That went surprisingly well," Shadowheart smiled, pleased with her work drawn into the stone floor.

"For now..." Lae'zel hissed under her breath.

A gentle tap landed on Rose's shoulder, causing her to look back reflexively. No one was there. Regardless, she nodded towards Shadowheart, and the two adjusted where they crouched to create a small space between them. 

Shadowheart lifted a second piece of chalk from her bag, handing it to the space beside her. When she let it go, the piece floated in mid air, then slowly pointed towards the ground as it was guided by an unseen force.

With the tadpoles, one of them would be able to transmit anything and everything they could see. It was exactly what Rose wanted before they committed their blades to a fight. Though Rose volunteered to scout, the elf insisted that he'd be able to get in, walk around, and get out without anyone noticing-- he promised he could hold his breath if the stench became too much. At first, he played it off as if scouting was more interesting than waiting around, but his tone was uncharacteristically eager. For whatever reason, he insisted, and what kind of leader would she be to turn him down? He seemed surprised that she could be convinced, but one casting of the invisibility spell later, he went off before she could change her mind.

It was Shadowheart's idea to draw out the map as Astarion clung to the walls and slipped by goblins. When Wyll started muttering his observations, Gale pulled out a piece of parchment and inkpen. The lit candle was a courtesy by Lae'zel, so their wizard could see what he was writing.

When he returned, the tadpole connection ended. A collective exhale released from everyone in the circle. The map was completed before them, barring a few minor details. The floating chalk was ready to fill those in.

"Bear here," a velveteen voice whispered behind the chalk, "worgs here. Three goblins. Here, here, annnnnd here." 

A small 'x' scratched into one of the boxes representing the pens, then two more were scratched in the next pen over. Markings for the goblins were scattered across the map. Circles for tables, scribbles for light sources, and some adjustments to the sizing of rooms were made-- he even made sure to add a ladder along one of the walls that had been missed by the cleric's drawing.

"I don't suppose you could tell if any of them were infected by tadpoles, could you?" Gale asked with a troubled look on his face.

"Oh, of course I could Gale," even while invisible, Astarion's sarcasm painted a clear picture of his eyes rolling and hand waving dismissively in the air, "it's soooooo obvious-- I mean it's a wonder no one's caught on that all of us are dealing with the wiggly bastards. Tiefling company excluded."

"A simple 'no' would have sufficed, thank you."

Wyll tapped his finger next to the goblin marked directly in front of Master Halsin's pen, "I'd worry about this one, she looked the most capable of the group. Dressed in thick leathers and wore a hood-- like some executioner. No doubt in my mind about it, she's got to be the boss of this room."

"Yes, and with her standing right in front of the door, I couldn't get too close to the druid," Astarion said, "but I saw a lever by his pen. If she can be persuaded to walk away, I could get close enough to free him."

"A druid would be a strong ally, indeed," Lae'zel tapped the small 'x' that marked the bear. "However, if he had been caught by the goblins before, are we certain he wouldn't fall instantly to their blades, again?"

"I asked about that when we freed Liam," Alfira piped up, "according to him, their contract didn't mention goblins, so none of them had been prepared when they were ambushed. And remember what Wyll said, about getting overwhelmed? I'm sure that's what happened."

Shadowheart interjected, "he also said that they were all surprised the head druid wanted to join their party, without wanting pay if the treasure was found."

"Treasure, you say?" Astarion's cooed, "maybe after this, we can help ourselves? We've worked this hard, why shouldn't we get a bit of a reward, after all?"

"Was there a lever for the Worgs on the other side?" Wyll asked.

"I didn't check, but the whole place has a symmetry about it. I'm sure there's one for the balding hounds."

"One of the other goblins are sure to go straight for them once the fighting starts."

"Might I remind everyone," Gale tapped the side of his head, "we're not dealing with normal goblins."

Rose stared at the crude marks chalked into the stone floor. Brows furrowed in concentration as her party whispered around her. Any ideas around this alleged treasure would have to be set aside. Though it did intrigue her-- what purpose would a druid have for treasure? Furthermore, their chat with Nettie revealed that they had been aware of the goblin's presence for some time.

Would that matter if he surrounded himself with an unprepared party of treasure hunters?

Even after getting caught, she couldn't stop wondering what prevented him from leaving of his own accord.

Questions to ask, after they save him.

She eyed everyone in the circle, gauging how prepared they seemed for battle. Half of them already dealt with a strong foe earlier that day, and not all of them would be able to give that same amount of effort in another fight. Lae'zel hadn't done anything that day but rest, Gale and Astarion were on scouting duty all morning. 

"Shadowheart," Rose spoke up, quieting the whispers around her, "what strength do you have left for this fight?"

"I can hold my own with a blade, but try not to get too badly wounded," the cleric eyed Rose, "I hope I don't need to tell you that."

The assassin began to roll her shoulder, as casually as she could. The twinge of pain had a lot to say in retort. Shadowheart wouldn't hide the smirk of vindication, seeing her leader's brow furrow tighter.

"It's tense," Rose excused, "but not unbearable. Alfira, what about you?"

"Not much magic besides cantrips, I'm afraid," the tiefling sighed, "but any little bit should help, right?"

As she suspected. Their healer couldn't heal, and their bard couldn't play. Her amber eyes turned to Wyll, who had almost as much energy now as he did that morning.

"I'm right as rain," Wyll answered, flashing a comforting smile.

"You wouldn't happen to know where any of the goblin tunnels would lead to, would you?" 

"Nothing complicated, some could be to get to other rooms. Judging by how further down the pits are, I would wager one of them leads directly outside the door. If Alfira and Shadowheart block the entrance," Wyll dragged his finger to the marked doorway at the end of the hall, "we could keep the fighting contained."

"Shadowheart can also be on standby in case one of the damned things slip into a small tunnel," Rose nodded approvingly, quick to regain her composure, "no one comes in, and anyone who goes out can be dealt with"

"Should be easy enough," Shadowheart looked at Alfira, who nodded in agreement. The two quietly rose to their feet and took to their positions beside the only obvious exit. Alfira continued to hold onto her bells, lest they reveal her position to the goblins.

Rose grabbed the piece of chalk from the ground and tapped one of the spaces in the center of the room, "Gale, are these good spots for you to control the room with your magic?"

Gale, though skilled with magic, was not hardy. The space at the end of the long staircase would be where he is safest, and allow his magic to reach almost any side of the room.

"Yes but it leaves me a bit open, doesn't it?" The wizard cautioned, "I'll happily go where you need me, but a dead Gale does no one any good, does it?"

"Weeeelllll..." Astarion, again, couldn't resist.

"Lae'zel and Wyll can stay close to cover you," Rose cut off the teasing.

"Better, thank you!"

In the empty space next to her, she imagined Astarion mocking the way the wizard held an appreciative hand over his chest and offered a small bow of his head.

The faintest of smirks tugged at the edge of her lips.

"I can rush to block the Worg pen," Rose mused, "if we take them by surprise, maybe I can take out their master on the way."

If the worgs were as clever as The Blade said, maybe she would be better off killing them. But whatever they did in those pits would majorly affect how they avoid suspicion falling unto them.

She had to think further ahead. After.

After Master Halsin is freed. After the goblins are killed.

She had to report to Commander Minthara, and she better have a damned good story for why several goblins were dead and their prisoner was gone.

Leave too many blade markings, and it would be clear the druid had assistance. The same could be said with magic. Remnants of their spells could give away their involvement.

Then there was the risk of injury. Her shoulder proved to be more burdensome than she realized. She could push herself for short term success-- but further injury would be difficult to cover up. The same problem arises if any of them were to be severely wounded during this fight.

A group of goblins getting bested by a head druid, especially one shaped like a bear? Expected. Predictable. Believable.

A party of True Souls, however? Suspicious. Pathetic. Unworthy of The Absolute. 

Whatever cover story they come up with, the Druid needs to be a part of it. 

"Astarion," Rose looked into the empty space she presumed him to be, "can you release Master Halsin?"

"Easily! Shall I handle that now?" his voice carried the curve of a smirk on his lips, followed by the sound of his shoes shifting across the stone. "Yes, I think I'll go do that now!"

"Wait, Astarion!" Rose threw her hand in front of her, desperate to stop him. In her haste, her fingers smashed against his arm. She gripped the smooth leather, but felt absolutely no resistance. If he was running off, she'd be tugging against his sleeve. She'd be pulling him back. This...this was nothing. 

He hadn't taken a single step, had he?

"Fuckin' Hells."

"You make it sooooo easy, darling," Astarion snickered, "I couldn't resist."

Yet, she had to resist the mounting desire to rip his arm from its socket. "Let's get into position."

"Dror Ragzlin don't seem to care what happens to the bear, he might be as good as worg meat." The hooded goblin woman flashed a smirk to Zurk. Upon uttering the words 'worg' and 'meat' in the same sentence, the beasts stuck their snouts through the bars of their enclosure again.

"Ahh, now you've got the pups' hopes up!" Zurk crossed his arms, unsympathetic to the begging of his pets.

Birka turned her gaze back to the bear, who continued to ignore her in favor of circling his pen. Her eyes narrowed, "But y'know, I'm not sure if the Drow's got other plans." Again, ignored. Her menacing grin faltered. Then, an idea. She put a hand on her hip and the other to her chin, feigning the act of thinking through another scenario, "on second thought, might depend on if Spike got the whiny one talkin' about where they came from." She half turned away from the beast, but from the corner of her eye she could see the mass stop. His head finally lifted, all attention on his captor. "Well now, that got your attention, didn't it?" Her evil grin stretched further, "Them thieves you was 'angin about are gonna 'ave what's comin' to 'em! An' when we know where your friends are hidin', we're goin to pay 'em a lit'l visit, too!" Each point, punctuated with another step. Step. Step. Step. Until she was inches from the bear's cold wet nose. His eyes held fear unlike she had seen from him in the days of his captivity. She relished in it. Finally, the mighty predator realized he had become prey. "Ya know, I think I likes the sound o' that. Too bad you won't be around to see what's left." She spat on his face with a laugh.

The bear slammed a paw into the cell door. Birka didn't even flinch. 

"Ha!" Zurk crowed, "After seein' how Spike handled the dwarf, I'd bet my last gold piece he kills the lad today before gettin' anythin' useful."

"How serious are ya 'bout that bet?" She crossed her arms over her chest, crossing the floor towards Zurk with a glint in her eye. "I 'eard that halfling lass 'ad decent prices for 'er wares, and I got my eye on somethin' nice."

The chatter overlapped as casual conversation turned to friendly ribbing, then to coarse laughter. But the bear continued staring outside his pen. The scent of rosemary and brandy beckoned him towards the door. Each step, the scent grew stronger. Soon, the perfume mingled with a subtle musk of damp earth.

"Let's have some fun," a silky voice purred.

Ca-chunk. 

Chains clanged together as the metal doors opened slowly. A mighty roar shook the room as the bear rushed out from his cage. The full strength of his rage turned towards his tormentor, who barely turned around before the giant mass of fur barrelled towards her.

"What the-- shit!" Her palm glowed with a yellow light as the massive claw swung towards her face. Inches from her nose, the air rippled as the bear struck an invisible force. Birka smirked triumphantly, flashing a glowing brand that rested in the middle of her palm, "ah ah ah, the Absolute's given me 'er blessin'-- you ain't gonna lay a toe on me-- agh!"

"How about a dagger?" Astarion's form faded into view, his dagger stuck out from the goblin's shoulder.

"Intruders!" was all she could shout before her full focus went towards surviving the attacks of a raging bear.

Lae'zel rushed around the corner, swinging her blade towards the butcher. Vrak narrowly jumped away, head firmly attached to his shoulders.

"Shit!" He shouted, ripping a cleaver from his cutting table. The gith towered over him, keeping him trapped in his corner of the room. Surrounded by nothing more than meat, his table, and a stool. "Alright, ya bat-faced bitch, ya wanna piece o' me?!" He kicked the stool into his free hand, handling it like a shield, "give it yer best shot."

While Lae'zel had the strength, Vrak had the agility. Her swings found no purchase as the goblin deftly dodged her blade. The clanging of sword against cleaver echoed in the dungeon as they were locked on to each other. Unafraid to get his hands dirty, the goblin would throw whatever pieces of meat he could grab. Whatever would give him enough edge to keep himself from becoming the new butcher's special.

Zurk frantically looked between Birka, Vrak, and the Worgs. The pups threw themselves against the bars of their pen, eager to freely rip the flesh from the strangers that swarmed in. 

"What're ya doin, scratchin' yer ass?!" Birka lambasted, "get back up!"

"Shit, right! Back up!" He spun on his heel, dashing towards the steps. He ducked beneath the swinging sword as he passed Lae'zel. The large stairway was right there.

And so were two looming figures, blocking his path.

"Shit. Shit!" He skidded to a stop, scrambling to run back towards the worgs. "Shit shit shit shit shit!" 

Flying daggers sliced into his arm as he leapt down the small set of steps. The worgs' barking began, their jaws snapping rabidly as Zurk made a bee line towards the release lever.

"He's going for the worgs!" Wyll shouted.

Gale raced for his position on the stone overlook, his spellbook's pages flurried open as he hands waves in practiced motions. Beneath the collar of his robe, a violet light began to glow. His voice echoed in the space around him, cutting a direct line from him to his target.

"Ad Lapide!" 

Arcane circles appeared around Zurk's ankles and wrists, encasing his limbs in magic, until his whole body stopped moving. His hand was extended towards the lever. Oh so very close...and yet not close enough. 

Gale held a proud smile as he lowered his hand, "that should hold him," he called over the stone railing.

"Hey wizard!" Astarion called, "little help over here?! This isn't a normal goblin!"

While the bear's hits managed to find purchase once or twice, Birka managed to deflect most of his blows. From his corner of the room, Astarion had thrown cantrip after cantrip, doing his best to aid the bear's hunt. But that damned woman managed to dodge or shield herself.

The wizard looked over the stone railing, watching the way the air rippled around the goblin woman, and how her hand glowed. It would appear as if she was using magic, but as an expert in the arcane, Gale knew this was not the case.

"Ah ha!" The wizard exclaimed, "I knew it! That one's got psionics--"

BOOM

Crashing through the stone railing and colliding into an unsuspecting Gale of Waterdeep, was the bear. As if he weighed nothing, he had been lifted and thrown through the air by Birka's Absolute Abilities. The beast groaned as he rolled off his back, revealing a nearly flattened wizard who slowly got up from the ground. 

"Perhaps," he wheezed for air, "I'll keep my exclamations," he groaned again as he held what remained of the railing, "to myself, for now."

The bear grunted in agreement.

The glow on his chest flickered, as did the arcane shapes restraining Zurk.

Birka snarled towards the violin-playing elf, who had nothing to hide behind no that the bear was gone. Two translucent gauntlets had been formed on her hands. One of which, she blew strands of fur off the knuckles. She beckoned for the elf, calling upon her faith in The Absolute to force his obedience. Astarion felt himself pull towards her, pushed by an unseen energy. She reeled a fist back, grinning as his look of terror grew the closer he came.

"Dolor!"

A beam of crackling energy flew into Birka, forcing her off her feet and repelling her into the very wall she threw the bear over. Astarion stumbled backwards, now free from whatever force pushed against his back. When he looked for the source of his saving, he saw Wyll.

"The Blade's got you!" He flashed a smile to the elf as he drew his rapier and rushed towards the commanding goblin.

Just as before, she lifted her hand and blocked the Blade from striking her. Barely.

Birka took a look at her surroundings, realizing how dire a situation she was in. Zurk was still frozen in place, with an assassin abou to strike him down. The Worgs were trapped in their pen, desperately trying to break themselves out. From her spot, she couldn't see what became of Vrak.

Another roar from the bear shook the dungeon. The beast regained some of his strength, and he was eager to finish her off.

"You might do me in," she spat, "but I'm takin' your lot with me."

With the last bit of her strength, she eyed the lever next to the Worgs' door. The gauntlets disappeared from her hand, leaving only the mark of The Absolute glowing in her palm.

The Bear leapt off the overlook, crashing down with the finishing blow.

But it was too late.

Ca-chunk

The worgs raced out of the pen before the doors were fully opened, charging at Rose before she dealt the killing blow on their keeper. 

"Shit!" She cursed, backing away from the two mangy beasts before they could take a bite out of her (already tender) arm.

Crash! Glass shattered at their feet.

"Ignis!" Astarion's voice echoed.

An explosion of fire engulfed the mangy monsters. Their cries eerily mixed the wailing of injured hounds with the pained shouts of something humanoid. 

"Nice timing, Artiste," Rose smirked.

"I've only just begun," he winked. The elf ran his bow across the strings, playing a quick and light melody. 

While the light from his fire subsided, another glow took over. It spread all over the bodies of worgs and goblin alike, illuminating them and the darkest corners of the room.

She hadn't realized how dark the room was until her targets become as obvious as the sun in a clear sky. Rose's daggers found purchase in the chest of one of the creatures. The wound sang to her. Each hit, another chord.

Music to her ears.

Still locked in combat, Lae'zel growled with frustration. How could a puny foe be so formidable?! Vrak took every chance he could to manipulate the room to his benefit. Chairs were thrown at the gith, his table was knocked over for cover. It was all he could do to survive. When the worgs exploded in flame, he got a glimpse at Zurk, helplessly bound by magic.

Gathering his strength, the bucher grabbed the table legs and shoved against it with all his strength. The gith, taken off guard, could do little more than be forced backwards. Unwillingly, she created the opening he needed. The focusing wizard was in his sights. Bruised and bleeding, it wouldn't take much to break that concentration.

Vrak flung his cleaver to the caster, then quickly ran down the steps to Zurk while the others were distracted with fighting. Lae'zel threw the table after him, shouting angrily that her charge escaped.

Another cry came from behind him, a pained sound from what he hoped was the irritating mage.

When the arcane circles disappeared, Vrak knew his aim was true.

"Come on!" He shouted, yanking Zurk by the arm, "get up!"

Pulled to his feet, Zurk quickly steadied his footing. This was bad. They were losing, and losing terribly. The worgs whined as Rose slashed into them, joined by Wyll who took turns attacking the glowing beasts.

The goblin hooked a finger in his lips, whistling loudly. The high pitch carried over their heads. Small pebbles around the gith's feet rolled away from her, clustering into a growing pile. The stone turned malleable, morphing together into a giant bulbous shape. From the sides of this form, eight pointed legs broke free. Eight tiny pebbles took on a polished look, like beady dark eyes. And finally, the fangs.

The giant spider screeched, spitting acid upon the gith.

Her skin sizzled where the droplets hit, but her blade was at the ready nonetheless. The monster dove towards her, fangs poised to sink into its fresh meal.

"Flagra!" Darkness launched into the arachnid. Swirling dark violet magic wrapped around the oversized insect, and a brighter violet light shined from the fleshiest bits. Its weakpoints.

Lae'zel swung her blade into them, viscera splurging out from the wounds as the spider squealed. She grit her teeth when the sight of chainmail entered her periphery.

"You said you were too frail to fight," she chastised the cleric.

"I said I couldn't heal," Shadowheart corrected, throwing her intricate ponytail behind her shoulder, "should I have left you to be eaten by the giant spider?"

The gith struck the spider again, wordlessly.

"I thought not." She ran around the spider, swinging her morning star into the creature while it was weakened by Lae'zel's blade.

Bells jingled behind them, as Alfira ran around the spider confrontation with a potion in her hand. She fell to her knees, skidding towards Gale as he bled out on the ground, cleaver sticking from his back.

"I knew it sounded bad!" The tiefling cried, pouring her healing potion into his mouth. "Gale, wake up-- here!"

His wounds began to close on their own as he swallowed the bitter liquid. He coughed raggedly, slowly getting to his knees.

The worgs fell to the ground, their dying wails harmonizing with the song of their wounds. The giant spider released its last screech before curling in on itself.

Rose turned her sights on the two remaining goblins, flicking the blood from her daggers to the ground at their feet. She approached the two with murderous intent.

As they shook in fear, her blood raced in delight.

"I can't tell you how much I'd enjoy this," she grinned, her shadow covering the both of them, "but you aren't mine to kill."

She sheathed her daggers and took a step back.

The Bear charged in, mauling the goblins before they could so much as scream.

No hesitation.

No mercy.

Next Chapter >>

[silver-dragonborn]

Here are some of my thoughts on a few fics I may or may not finish due to work, real life, and depression. Episode One of HOTD gave me some new insight into Alicent Hightower and the family dynamics of the Blacks as well as the dragons...specifically Cannibal (got a crack theory for this one).

-) 1. When news of Lucerys' death breaks out, Rhaena steals a horse in the middle of the night and sneaks off to claim the Cannibal. Don't get me wrong, I love Morning and I want Rhaena to hatch her pretty pink Barbie dragon, but I'm angling for a darker turn in which Rhaena swears a terrible oath of vengeance and claims Cannibal.

I have a theory that Cannibal is a dragon-like alien who fell from the deepest corners of space and has lived this long because dragon eggs and hatchlings provide him with the nourishment he needs to replenish his strength to make the long trip back to his home planet.

However, if he were to eat a much larger dragon, like Vhagar, he'd grow in size and never have to eat a single egg again. Cannibal is unnatural and does not belong on this planet, but when this slip of a girl approaches him with promises of a grand "feast" his interest is piqued and he lowers his wing for her to climb upon his back. It's only after Cannibal devours Vhagar's corpse (bones and all) that he realizes that he finally has plenty of strength to return to the stars...but this little human has shown much courage and kept her end of the bargain...it wouldn't hurt to stay. After all, his human is a delight, and this funny human war will provide him with more dragons to feast on and make him even bigger...and stronger.

Rhaena claiming the space eldritch monster is what I need and poor Sunfyre and Tessarion are next on the menu. Also, Rhaena the Devourer has a nice ring to it.

-) 2. The older Black kids, Jace, Baela, Rhaena, and Luke, are sent back in time to avenge their family and crown Rhaenyra. Super dark because they're war-torn adults trapped in children's bodies, dealing with issues ranging from PTSD, lack of sleep, trauma, short tempers, etc. They're not in a merciful mood and will go scorched earth on the Hightowers as well as re-establish House Targaryen once more as the House not to be fucked with. Poor Rhaenyra will wonder what happened to her sweet boys while Daemon can barely recognize his daughters who are suddenly far more vicious than him.

Expect lots of gore, senseless violence, political machinations, and each Green meeting their demise. Dyana will also be making an appearance and serving as the right-hand woman of Baela because damn it, if anyone deserves justice and a happy ending it's her.

-) 3. Mourning over the loss of his son, a drunken Aegon accidentally stumbles upon Ser Cristol Cole and his mother messing around in Rhaenyra's chambers and loses his shit. His wine-addled mind causes him to blame their pair for his son's death and he proceeds to put them on trial, but not before gelding Ser Criston and flogging his mother. From there, the Greens unravel from the inside and turn on each other like rats because, by the end of the day, there is no honor among thieves. In short, Rhaenyra takes back her throne without losing any more children because the Greens turned on each other.

It just goes to show that traumatizing your kids, physically abusing them, forcing them to obsess over their older sister, and cruelly denying them their true heritage all because its "queer customs" make you uncomfortable will blow up in your face and then some.

Alicent is going to find out real fucking quick that the men she has fought for her entire life will happily throw her into the fire to keep themselves warm and that the cruelty of the Faith knows no bounds.

-) 4. Aegon makes Ser Criston Cole his Hand after sacking his grandfather. Now the second most powerful man in Westeros, Criston proposes marriage to Alicent, but like Rhaenyra before her, Alicent rejects him, reminding him of his low rank and their incompatibilities. Once again, Criston turns against another noblewoman for rejecting him, except now he has the power to make Alicent's life a living hell. Alicent realizes with cold clarity the type of man he truly is and that she should have left him to rot on Driftmark.

There is...a special kind of horror of being at the mercy of cruel, powerful men who have no respect for women. Remember, this is the same man who bashed. another man's face and tormented Rhaenyra for YEARS all because she refused to be poor with him. I will be writing Criston as he is: A petty, cruel incel who has no business being in charge. Emphasis on the cruel part...poor Alicent is not prepared for what he has planned for her nor is she prepared for how Aegon and Aemond will turn a blind eye like Viserys did. After all, Criston is the dad who stepped up, and his "sons" have inherited the worst of his traits from him.

[thedawningofthehour]

In tandem with my ramblings about doth being an actual separated au instead of a 'Donnie thinks it's a separated au' au and some conversation with @dryad-druid about that and Big Mama being an actual mama-yeah, I think I've thought up a pretty cool au idea.

(this is long. you will regret this)

So the classic Donnie gets separated from his brothers, Lou takes the other kids in the divorce and Draxum gets left with Donnie, but unlike other separated aus, Lou very clearly sees Draxum save him from the flames. But Lou's hurt, choking on smoke, holding three babies and Draxum is holding his baby and OH YEAH HE'S LITERALLY IN THE PROCESS OF MUTATING. Lou has to flee for the safety of his other kids.

But he fought Draxum and took the turtles for a reason, and every moment he spends with his three babies just renews his conviction. He can't let Draxum keep even one of the turtles, and he will not leave his child to the mercy of that monster.

He needs to return to reclaim his last baby...but he barely got out alive the first time. Not only that, but he has three little lives that depend on him now. Even if he was successful, they couldn't be left alone for long. And he cannot fail. He can't leave his purple baby with Draxum, and he can't leave his other children alone.

So he returns to the Battle Nexus. He tells Big Mama he'll stay, he'll do whatever she wants him to do, provided two things: she provides for his children, feed them and educate them and keep them safe from anyone who might try to harm them or use them for their own ends, including herself. And second, help him reclaim his child from Draxum.

Big Mama is ecstatic. She has Lou back right where she wants him, his boys are just the most adorable turtles she's ever seen, and she really doesn't like Draxum anyway. They get married, she gets the boys birth certificates or whatever and sets them up in luxury accommodations, and hires mercenaries to capture Baron Draxum and his remaining creation and bring them to her-unharmed, she stresses. The baby must be kept safe, at all costs.

Meanwhile, Draxum just watched his entire life's work go up in flames as he was violently divorced by the guy he sort of-totally had a crush on, who was also the father of his kids and kidnapped 3/4's of them, and is now left with whatever meager possessions survived the blaze, his gargoyles, and a single turtle.

And yes, this turtle fusses constantly and keeps pulling his hair and doesn't let him sleep for more than two hours at a time, but...he, weirdly, really enjoys it. Yes, he's exhausted and hungry and hasn't been able to take a leisurely poop in a week because the second he sits down someone starts to cry, but when he stares up at Draxum with those big eyes while he takes a bottle, when he refuses to settle down and fall asleep until he's in Draxum's arms, he just...can't help it. He's completely taken with this kid. He'd do anything for him. He's all that Draxum has left.

So when the bounty hunters come looking for him, intending to take his son away, Draxum runs.

Homeless, penniless, not daring to use even his name, Draxum goes into hiding with only what he can carry on his back and the baby in his arms. He unfortunately has to get rid of the gargoyles-he won't be able to pay them and they're too stupid to keep anything a secret, plus they sucked as nannies. So they go back to the gargoyle agency, and Draxum goes off into the night.

Hiding in the Hidden City proves difficult, considering there's only so many goat Yokai, and Big Mama's goons are nothing if not thorough. I thought maybe he could live in some fantasy-esque cottage out in the middle of the mushroom forest or something, and maybe he does for the first few years, but as Galois grows so do his needs, and he becomes increasingly harder to keep hidden. So Draxum retreats to the only place left he has a prayer of disappearing into-NYC.

Life on the surface is hard and forces Draxum to deal with-shudders-humans, but he soon finds himself benefitting from their kindness. A coat draped over his shoulders when the temperatures start to dip, leftovers from a restaurant worker who is supposed to throw them away but puts it all in a to-go box instead. He likes to think of it as fate, choosing the alleyway right outside their apartment the night before he was stumbled upon, but after the shock had worn off the couple was eager to help him, and neither they nor their daughter April treated his son any differently.

The O'Neils help Draxum get a settled in a recently vacated apartment in their building and things begin looking up. Galois and April become attached at the hip almost immediately, and though neither of them completely understand why Gale has to stay hidden, they listen to the adults. Draxum can pass for human even without his cloaking brooch, so he gets a part-time job in the evenings to at least cover some of what the O'Neils are doing for him. April goes to his apartment when she gets done with school and he watches her until her own parents get home, and the O'Neils watch Galois while his father is at work.

It's not perfect, but they have so many more opportunities on the surface. April struggles in school so Draxum offers to homeschool her alongside Galois, and her parents agree to do that for at least her elementary years. When April is twelve and Galois is ten, Draxum gives him his own cloaking brooch so he can attend middle school with her. It comes with a long lecture on how he can't let anyone know his secret, that Draxum was asking a lot from the both of them, but he felt like they were mature enough to understand how important it was.

So they go to school, then come home and learns alchemy and Yokai history from Draxum, Galois sets his curtains on fire multiple times performing experiments in his bedroom, and always seems to be learning a new subject from Youtube tutorials. Draxum gets a day job as a lunch lady and starts thinking about getting a human degree, so he can go back to doing science things or practicing medicine. Two decades ago he would have recoiled in horror if someone showed him his future, but he finds himself...weirdly content.

MEANWHILE. The rest of the boys grow up in a life of luxury, tailored clothing and endless servants and world-class tutors. Lou settles himself into being Big Mama's part-time champion and full-time trophy husband. True to his word, he does whatever Big Mama asks of him, so long as it doesn't compromise his sons. He fights, he smiles and poses for the press, he sleeps in her bed when she wants him and makes himself scarce when she doesn't. And he does what he can to ensure his boys don't get too spoiled. Taking care of them is the only thing in his life that makes him happy now.

But the deal he made with Big Mama chafes him at every turn. She said she'd never force his children to fight, but when Raphael begs her to put him in some of the smaller, no-kill fights...well, that certainly wasn't against the terms of their contract, and how could she ever say no to one of her turtley-boos?! Leonardo is clever, far cleverer than any of his nannies or tutors, with a skill in manipulation that would put most car salesmen to shame. Not to mention he's definitely the most handsome of his sons, with his bold markings and charismatic personality. Big Mama delights in parading him around, using him as arm-candy when Lou isn't available. And worst of all, she's taken to teaching him business at her side. She fixates on Michelangelo as well, but Lou can't really find anything to object to when she hangs up his artwork and brags to her dinner guests about their meal being planned and cooked by one of her sons. Still, he keeps his last baby close, so she'll have all the more trouble finding something to exploit in him.

All the while, he can't bring himself to truly be angry with Big Mama. She took him back, kept him and his boys safe when they needed it. She's his children's mother, they love her, look at all she provides them. He was the one that left those loopholes in, he was the one who failed his sons. He was the one who left one of them behind. He can't be angry with her, no.

But he knows who he can be angry with.

So that's how he passes the years. Watching his wife exploit the children she claims to love, reading report after report of every failed mission to locate Draxum and his missing child, taking his fury out on every mercenary that returns without them. He thinks about his last baby, what hell their life must be. How they must feel, knowing their father left them with a monster. He thinks about Draxum, the source of all his misery, who has eluded him and kept his child captive for thirteen long years. Lou waits. He plans. While inside him, a simmering hatred plants its roots deeper and deeper, and slowly begins to boil.

[amelias-zelda-calamity-quintet]

Monster Ecology w/ The Marksmen

Saddiqah: "You want to know more about monsters? Suppose that's not a half bad idea, so long as you're not going around trying to fight them. I know we might make it look easy, but that's years of training talking."

Link: "That's not entirely true. Most people can handle the little ones."

Saddiqah: "You're going to get someone hurt making it sound that simple, Sayre."

Link: "Maybe it'll give some people some confidence! As long as you've got a heavy enough object, a good stick or broom, just about anyone could handle the lowest threat monsters, things like Chus and Rats and Keese. But yeah, Saddiqah's right. Monsters like these aren't dangerous on their own, but they like to stay in groups. And the more monsters you have, the more dangerous it is to deal with them. You can only swing at one thing at a time."

Saddiqah: "Speak for yourself. But that does move beyond untrained fighter."

Link: "If you know the proper end of a weapon to use, you could probably handle basic monsters. Most town guards can, also in small numbers. That's things like Bokoblins, Wolfos, Deku Babas, Gibdos, Skulltulas, uh...what else?"

Saddiqah: "Something not local at that point. Oh, Poes, if you're anywhere near graveyards. Or Miniblins. Tektites. Kargarocs. Actually, there's a lot more, isn't there?"

Ambrose: "They don't need the whole bestiary."

Link: "Doesn't hurt though. Never know what you're going to run into these days."

Ambrose: "True. In that case, you should warn them about greater threat. Monsters like Wizzrobes, Redeads, and Moblins."

Saddiqah: "Now there's something nasty. Not only are they bigger, and mean enough to do real damage, they're smart too. Monsters in this tier of, what, three? (L: "We were counting?") Will start rallying monsters of lower threat levels. A Moblin's a tough fight. A Moblin with a pack of Wolfos helping it is deadly for most combatants. That's what we train to deal with."

Link: "And some! When you start talking about even more serious threats, like Lynels and Moldugas, even the guild doesn't send in members alone. The smallest hunting party I've seen for a Lynel was the three of us, and that was a close fight."

Saddiqah: "We were both barely out of apprenticeship then though. We could probably take one on our own now, Sayre. (L: "Ha, you think?") Particularly after what we've been up against lately. The real terrifying creatures, like the one we fought in the temple."

Link: "Oh, Boss Monsters, right. Those things are the stuff out of legends. Yeah, I'd definitely agree, that thing was probably pretty close to a Boss."

Saddiqah: "You think there's something worse out there than that thing?"

Link: "I mean, we don't know where that thing came from. Who knows if there's anything else out there worse."

Ambrose: "Threat levels of monsters aren't the only thing to worry about though. It's also their impact on where they settle that's an issue."

Saddiqah: "Old man's right. Monsters are always invasive in every habit they find, and they're highly adaptable. Which makes them good at being invasive. And all the magic left over the Convergence means they'll eventually come back."

Link: "That's why any monster hunter with real experience will tell you it's important to leave natural predators alone. Animals like bears and wolves and big cats provide a line of defense before folks like the Marksmen can get there to deal with problems, and can keep bigger monsters from being able to make camps or rally allies."

Saddiqah: "It's why trophy hunting is widely disliked in the guild. Your nice pelt just made our lives harder. And everyone in the area less safe. Unless a predator is regularly entering a settlement, leave them alone! They're doing more good than a stuffed head."

Ambrose: "Doubt that'll stop most knights, El Amin."

Saddiqah: "Yeah, well, they've all got stuffed heads themselves. Right, Sayre?"

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

Mark of a Hero (Updates on Tuesdays & Fridays, 1 of 9)

Hyrule is at peace, or so the Royal Family would have its people believe. Something is afoot in the kingdom, and someone needs to do something about it. Least likely would be Marksmen Link Sayre- a mercenary and monster hunter doing his best to get by. Until a job goes wrong, and he gets roped into the secret plans of Hyrule's princess. Now Link must play the part of the Hero to dive deeper into the mystery, and maybe stumble into a legend of his own.

AO3 - Wattpad

[laurel-finch]

'I Don't Bite' S1.Ch06: Tether

Summary: The new arrivals settle in and the Winchesters make a reappearance... Referenced Episodes: mentioned S1 E12 "Faith," mentioned S1 E13 "Route 666," mentioned S1 E14 "Nightmare," S1 E15 "The Benders" CW: Kidnapping. Long chapter. Word Count: 8657 Recommended Song: Interstate Love Song -- Stone Temple Pilots Previous Chapter -- Masterlist -- Next Chapter

"No, Sam, everything's fine here," I answered sharply. "You don't need to check up on us."

"It's been three weeks and they're still not gone," he responded curtly, clearly frustrated by my refusal. "Dean and I are getting worried." I paced up and down the kitchen and glared toward the living room where my blond guest lounged. He picked at his nails and scraped at his skin, fidgeting – hungry, and volatile. There was no way I was letting either of them near Sam and Dean anytime soon.

"Dean almost just died like three times. He got electrocuted for God's sake. I should be headed to wherever you idiots are to check up on you!" I hissed into the speaker, cupping my hand over it. The action wouldn’t so much to block the sensitive ears of skinwalkers, but it at least provided some privacy.

"Absolutely not. Dean and I are fine, stay with your pack and we'll come to you."

"Jesus Christ, Samuel, you are not coming here and involving yourself with my pack and a couple monsters who don't know you," I hissed out. The mammoth on the other end of the line was finally silent for once.

"You there?" I jumped at the voice.

"Dean?" I asked, voice squeaking softly at the sudden intrusion. He chuckled at the obvious question.

" Yeah. He got fed up with you I suppose." I could practically picture his smirk. "Listen, if you don't want us coming out to make sure if you're alright, I'm fine with that-" I sighed in relief. “But-" and at this, I groaned. "- at least come on a hunt with us. It's been almost a month since we've seen you. A hunt can't hurt, right?"

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Dean-"

"And bring the dumb blond one with you while you're at it. I'd like to meet him, maybe set him straight."

"I'm not bringing Marcus with me," I hissed out and I turned to said dumb blond. Dean was right, it had been nearly a month. Caeden was mostly healed and likely safe to leave, but the two newest mutts continued to stay in the bunkhouse, although at the opposite end from the others. Caeden remained silent and wary, following Marcus around like a shadow. Oftentimes I would hear them arguing quietly on the porch at night, just softly enough that my keen ears couldn’t decipher their heated words.

I glared at Marcus and he smirked back, delighted by my reaction. He wasn't a bad wolf, in all honesty. Cocky as all shit, but a good fighter and willing to help around the house. Perhaps that's why I let him stay, despite him not having said a word about potentially joining the pack.

Caeden, on the other hand, was a different story. He was moody, but not unlikeable – in fact, he got along rather well with Sasha and Andrew, although Booth was still rather cold to them both. But Caeden's allegiance fell with Marcus, and I had to admit it made my fur stand on end to think there was a mutt running around my pack that wasn't one of mine.

"You still with me?"

"Yeah, Dean, I'm here," I answered as I propped the phone up on my shoulder again and continued marching around the kitchen with a bowl of cookie dough in my arms. "Sorry, I'm helping Andrew with something."

“Bring him with you if you won’t bring the other one," Dean replied light-heartedly. "From what I've seen of him, I feel like he could use a good fight." My face fell at this.

"If anyone's going to teach Andrew how to fight, it's going to be me or Booth."

"You could teach him all about the teeth and claws side of it, but I could teach him the old one-two," he laughed and I heard a swish from the other end of the phone, almost like he had done the moves himself.

I chuckled. "I think I can handle that too, Dean, but thank you for the offer." He hummed in response and I heard a loud plop, almost as if he had dropped onto a hard cushion - likely a motel bed. "Where are you now?"

" Saginaw, Michigan, " his voice sounded clipped, as though he was unsure of himself. Reluctant to tell me more. "... Sammy had another vision," he finally relented. My eyes widened at this and I put the mixing bowl on one of the countertops, straightening the phone and holding it against my ear.

"What'd he see this time?"

"Weird stuff going on in some house. He saw a garage first, smoke in it, one of the family members dead. We scoped out the house and didn't see anything-" I heard a clatter from behind me and saw Marcus leaning against the edge of the counter, holding the spoon I had been using on the cookie dough to his mouth, a smirk resting on his lips. I growled at him and motioned for him to put the spoon down. " - Sammy had another vision later of one of the other family members getting his head chopped by a window. "

"A window? You've got to be kidding me."

"Nope." I turned back to Marcus and frowned, seeing him lick the batter off the spoon. He smiled guiltily.

I pulled the phone away from my ear and covered the mic. "If you don't put the spoon down right now, I'm going to shove it up your scrawny ass," I hissed. Marcus tilted his head a bit and grinned before dropping the now dirty spoon in the sink. I scoffed and returned the phone to my ear.

"Listen to this" Dean continued, "There's no sign of anything paranormal in that house. No graveyards to native rituals, no curses or murders. Nothing. Zilch."

"Poltergeist maybe?" I heard another loud clatter behind me and turned to see Andrew shoving Marcus out of the kitchen. Andrew looked furious, and Marcus was quickly learning not to mess with the younger man's food, much to my amusement. 

"Don't think so. But, we wouldn't mind the help, if you could come down – or I guess drive up – and help us out." 

"I think you've got this one covered, Dean." Not that I didn’t want to, but I didn’t trust the strange pair of monsters alone with my pack. Andrew's ears pricked at the mention of the eldest Winchester. He seemed rather excited to meet him again and was very curious about the brothers. "But so help me God, Dean Winchester, if you get hurt I will tear you limb from limb."

He hummed in response. "Sorry sweetheart, I've heard that threat loads of times. Pretty much used to it by now."

"In that case, maybe I'll just turn you into my own personal chew toy. Or even better, keep you here and let the pack snack on you from time to time."

"Getting to see you every day doesn't sound too awful to me."

My face flushed and I took a few moments to recollect myself, jaw going slack. I shook my head to clear my thoughts before speaking. "Let me know when you guys are done with this hunt. Maybe I'll see you on the next one."

"Noted. I'll catch you later, fido."

"Stay safe, Winchester." I hung up and put my phone back in my pocket. I whirled around with my hands on my hips to face the two troublemakers, only to find more than two sets of eyes staring back at me. "When the hell did you all get here?" I asked, eyes widening in surprise.

"When you started blushing," responded Marcus. "It was pretty cute, you know. What'd your boyfriend say now to get you so worked up?"

"Shut up, Marcus," countered Sasha. Although small, she was turning out to be a little ball of wrath. "That's her business."

"You're just saying that cause she's your boss," Caeden said dryly for the first time that day, backing up his partner.

"No, I'm saying that because she's my friend," she snapped back, head held high in defiance. Sasha, for all her loving personality, did not tolerate disrespect or even a hint thereof. She scowled up at the two much taller men, dark eyes reminding them of their temporary place within the pack. An involuntary shiver ran up Marcus’ spine, which he quickly covered by ruffling his hair, the movement distracting from his uneasiness..

"Thank you, Sasha. I appreciate it, but it was really nothing." I looked pointedly toward Marcus. "He's not my boyfriend, and he just said something that caught me off guard."

The blond shrugged. "If you say so." He suddenly clapped his hands together rather suddenly, making even Booth jump. "You know what we should do tonight? We should all go hunting!"

"Sounds like a fine idea to me. I wouldn’t mind getting a good stretch in," agreed Booth, rolling his shoulders. "’S long as it’s animals."

"We went hunting only a few days ago. We don't need any more food," added Andrew, looking rather confused by the sudden change of subject.

"Then how about a chase?" suggested Marcus, a wide grin spanning his face.

"A chase?" I asked, cocking a brow.

"Like... what is it humans call it, capture the flag?” Marcus nudged Caeden in the arm, catching the dark-skinned man’s attention. “You told me about it once, remember? Your teammates can get captured and you have to rescue them while still defending your territory."

"We could use deer hides as our flags," offered Andrew, giving me a hopeful look. I looked among each of my pack members, searching for any sign of opposition to this. Finally, seeing none I turned back to Marcus.

"Why are you offering up a game so suddenly?"

His smile widened if that was at all possible, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. He chose his words carefully, mulling them over before they slipped easily off his irritating tongue. "Just a bit of fun with the gang, right?"

Caeden stiffened.

—

The teams were set, with Booth, Andrew, and myself on one team and Sasha, Caeden, and Marcus on the other. Sasha didn't seem all that excited to be partnered with the two newbies, but she promised to do her best and try to have fun.

The game was taking place in the woods around the glade. Sasha's team's skin had been placed somewhere to the west, whereas ours was to the east. We were given a limited range to run in, sort of like boundaries for the game. If a player was captured, they had to go back to the glade and wait to be ‘rescued.’

The sun was setting, its pink rays dappling the horizon and golden clouds resting over the treetops. It would be dark soon, a time when skinwalkers did their best work.

"What's the plan here, boss?" chirped Andrew, practically skipping along beside you.

"I think we should have Booth stay around the skin," I answered coolly. Booth whipped around to look at me in confusion. "You're better at running short distances quickly, and you fight more defensively. I've seen you take down a deer, Booth, you're not built for long-distance." He quirked an almost challenging eyebrow at this, but nodded.

"Then what should you and I do?" Andrew chimed again. His eyes were lit with an almost childish joy. Sometimes I would forget that he was only barely an adult, but moments like this made me remember.

"You are built for speed, unlike Booth," I said with a teasing look over my shoulder at the silvering man. Booth scoffed and crossed his arms. "So I think you should help me herd them. Push them towards me, and I'll catch them. We can press forward into their territory and hopefully get their skin without too much trouble."

"What if one of us gets caught?" Booth questioned.

"Then Andrew will go rescue them. He's the fastest, and he's not likely to get caught – but if he does, then I'll go."

"And what if you both get captured?"

I turned to him, a wide grin on my face. "Then you'd better fight like hell."

I turned sharply, hearing a loud howl to the west, signaling that the game was starting. I yipped in response, saluted my beta, and took off into the woods at a dead sprint, Andrew hot on my heels.

I gestured to the left and made a motion for Andrew to shift. He nodded back and jumped into his russet form and took off towards the left while I veered to the right. I slowed my pace and eventually walked slowly through the woods, still having yet to shift. It could be a while until someone made a move, so I stood and waited.

I shook my furred head, the brown undertones receding with the waning light of the sun. It was twilight now, and it was steadily getting too dark to see in my human form. I paced through the woods and listened for an inkling of movement, hearing none. Not even a mouse burrowing beneath the fallen leaves. 

I heard a crash to my rear, and before I could fully turn to face it I was knocked to the ground with a paw on my throat and a pair of jaws near my ear, snarling at me. I snapped and twisted, kicking my back legs up with enough force to roll over and pin my attacker beneath me. I snarled and was met with an equally vicious growl.

Caeden swiped up at me, with a brown, wiry furred paw, connecting with the side of my jaw and pushing my head away. I hissed and smacked my right paw against his cheek, causing him to yelp and throw his hind legs up, pushing against my sternum. His legs shook under my weight, as my furred form was much larger than his. I snapped at his throat, struggling to connect my jaws with his neck.

In a whirlwind of teeth and claws, I was tossed to the side, a small scrape running down my shoulder and Caeden rushing towards me. I catapulted forward, meeting his chest with mine and pushing him over backward. He fell onto his back with a whine and rolled onto his stomach. I stood over him and sunk my teeth lightly into his scruff, pulling the loose skin gently. He growled in response, but didn't resist. He had been captured.

The two of us shifted back and I got off of him, allowing him to stand. "Sorry, Caed. Maybe Marcus'll rescue you."

"Doubt it," he said, running a hand through his short hair, tight curls cropped close to his skull. His eyes had returned from their vibrant blue to a warm brown that neatly matched his skin tone, his short, wiry hair sticking up at odd angles. "He's probably too busy getting your skin from Booth." He smirked and briskly walked away from me, headed towards the capture zone. "That was a good fight. Looking forward to a rematch at some point."

"I think that's the nicest you've ever been to me!" I called after him, unable to hide the smile blossoming on my face. He stiffened at my words.

"Don't get used to it," he growled out over his shoulder before disappearing into the woods. In the distance, I heard his howl signaling to his team that he had been captured.

—

The game finally ended, after what felt like hours of playing. In the end, Marcus had been caught trying to rescue Caeden, leaving only Sasha guarding their skin. Andrew, to my surprise, had been caught as well before I encountered Caeden. He had apparently run right into Marcus, who had reacted quickly with jaws around Andrew's neck. The boy was fast, apparently too fast for his own good.

We had all returned to the main house now, faces flushed from running, but still excited by the night's events. Andrew had pulled some homemade ice cream from the freezer, and it was surprisingly delicious. Together, we sat on the couch laughing with each other and enjoying our ice cream.

"He came out of nowhere!" Marcus exclaimed cheerfully, laughing his head off and his wavy straw-colored hair bouncing wildly. "I just heard this weird thumping and then suddenly BOOM! There was Andrew, flying towards me! Not sure how I reacted, but the next thing I knew I had my teeth around his throat."

Andrew laughed at this and held his bowl in the air, like a small salute. "I didn't even see you there. I just knew I had hit something and then all of a sudden I was on my back!"

The group laughed heartily, Marcus playfully bumping the younger skinwalker with his shoulder. "Andrew, you think running into me was scary, imagine Booth and this one charging you out of nowhere!” he said, pushing at my shoulder slightly. “God, it looked like she was almost flying, I swear, her paws weren't even touching the ground!"

I chuckled at this and brushed a lock of hair out of my face. "It felt like I was flying, honestly. I was so set on winning at that point."

"I could hardly see you, let alone keep up with you," Booth praised. "It was so dark that I thought I was going to lose you in the woods. My legs still ache from trying keeping up."

I laughed heartily and grinned at him. "You needed the workout, old man,” I teased, bumping his shoulder affectionately. “You're getting soft in your old age."

He growled playfully. "I bet you wouldn't say that if you and I took a turn in the ring." I chuckled.

"Try me, I bet I could knock you on your ass any day." The group erupted into laughter once more at this declaration. I pointed to Caeden from across the group, narrowing my eyes in jest. “You and I need a rematch before you two head out – that fight was far too short for my liking.”

Caeden nodded slowly, not meeting my gaze – a common occurrence with him. Before he had a chance to answer, Marcus spoke up. "Who said anything about 'heading out?’" he questioned and flashed a cocky smirk. My eyes widened at his declaration, heart thumping loudly for just a moment.

Caeden froze, back stiffening. His eyes were wide with shock and… was that fear? He angled his head slightly to glare at Marcus for his rash words. “Marcus…”

"You mean you two are planning to stay?" Andrew asked gleefully, having taken a shine to the two men.

"We had discussed in the past never joining a pack,” Marcus added, suddenly in complete seriousness. I frowned at his words, watching his mind slowly turn as he thought up an answer. The group fell silent, waiting for him to continue. “We’ve both had a few rough experiences, but…” he fell silent for just a moment and gave Caeden’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “I’ve always wanted a family – both of us have. This is the closest we’re going to get, and, unfortunately-” his green eyes lifted to meet mine in a sturdy, accepting gaze, “- I trust you.”

My gaze flicked to Caeden, whose jaw was set firmly. His gaze was on the ground, but he didn’t pull away from Marcus or the rest of the group. He seemed… uncomfortable, but resolved. For now. This didn’t seem to be the way he wanted to make the announcement.

My heart hammered. These two rogues trusted me? My stomach flipped. Perhaps Missouri was right – maybe I was doing something correct. I couldn’t help the soft, gleeful smile that spread on my cheeks. They trusted me. 

“If you’ll have us,” Caeden tacked on curtly, staring down at the ground. His jaw was tight, his shoulders squared. He seemed to wrestle with his decision and I wondered how long he would reasonably stay. This didn’t seem to be the life for him, but his willingness to try made me smile. 

The six of us sat in silence, my three original companions open-mouthed with surprise. "Of course, you two are welcome here," I answered warmly, my tone as even and tender as I could muster so as not to spook them. It would be a long road to adapt to the new presence, but it seemed like it would be worth it in the end. Despite their troubles, they seemed like good people.

In a flurry of motion I was suddenly dragged into a hug, the six of us crowded so tightly there was hardly space to move. A bubbly laugh escaped me as I pulled them closer, heart thudding with a sense of joy and relief. My family had just grown again, and I couldn't have been more excited.

—

"So, old flames and an evil car, huh? Sorry I missed it," I called out to the Winchesters before they even had a chance to exit the Impala. It had been a week since my last call with them, almost a week and a half since Marcus and Caeden had decided to stay.

Dean whipped to his younger brother, eyes filled to the brim with shock. "Dude, you promised not to mention that!"

"Just the fact that you made Sam promise tells me everything I need to know," I teased, earning a head shake from Dean. As Sam approached the front porch he opened his arms wide and I practically leapt into his bear hug, the both of us laughing cheerfully.

"Nice to see you again, too," he said, finally setting me down.

"It feels like it's been so long," I grinned, eyes flicking between the boys.

"Just over a month, Courage," answered Dean as he rummaged through the trunk of his immaculate car. I scowled. Courage the Cowardly Dog? Really? "We brought some goodies too. Any place we can drop them?"

"In the kitchen. Andrew and Caeden are working on lunch – Drew's making his famous grilled cheese."

"Grilled cheese, huh? Sounds fancy," Sam teased, taking a bag of groceries from his older brother. As Dean approached, the scent of cherries nearly knocked me over – it was surprisingly strong. It smelled suspiciously like the cherry pie he so loved-

“You stopped for pie?” I asked.

“Always. Brought some with us, too.”

I grinned as the two boys headed inside and were quickly greeted by Andrew, who was practically jumping for joy upon seeing them. He offered a hug to Sam, who took it, whereas Dean opted for a handshake. I paced into the kitchen to see Caeden drying off his hands with a dishtowel. It looked as though he had just washed whatever couldn't fit into the dishwasher, which I'm sure Sasha would appreciate.

"Caeden, meet the Winchesters," I said, gesturing to the Winchesters. "Sam and Dean, meet Caeden," Caeden remained quiet, eyes fixated on the cloth wrapped around his hands. After several long moments, he waved halfheartedly to the Winchesters before returning to the side dishes, not bothering to meet their gazes.

Sam cleared his throat and looked around the kitchen, effectively breaking the silence. "Where're Booth and Sasha?" he asked quizzically, scanning the yard outside.

“Sasha’s out in the bunkhouse sorting out the last of the laundry, last I checked. Booth and Marcus-” I hesitated for a moment and caught Caeden’s eye. I had considered introducing them to Marcus, but was unsure if he was… detoxed enough for that. Caeden, at least, flipped back and forth between vegetarian and traditional diets. But Marcus had always been traditional up until now.

Caeden seemed to understand the meaning in my gaze and he nodded affirmatively. I spun on my heels to face the Winchesters. "I'm going to go find Booth and Marcus. Care to join me?"

"Will we be able to keep up with you?" Sam asked jokingly.

"How fast can you run?"

The boys paled.

—

I jogged through the woods, the boys not far behind me, and my ears pricked to any sound of my pack members. My boots hit the forest floor softly, hardly making a sound other than the crunching of leaves, whereas the boys thumped along behind me.

I yipped as I heard the sound of rustling to my left and veered in that direction. A playful growl caught my attention and I raced towards it, picking up the pace and leaving the boys behind me. I heard Dean groan and pick up the pace. I burst forth into a clearing, jumping into the air and landing on two feet, covered in dirt but content.

Booth and Marcus were sparring together, although it looked more like Booth was lazily fighting a puppy. The older dog had so much more experience, despite Marcus's innate strength in pedigree. I was happy to have both of them by my side.

The Winchesters stood by my sides, watching the fight with wide eyes. To them, it must have looked like the two skinwalkers were trying to kill each other. We had no rules against drawing blood or injury in a fight, as long as the injury healed quickly. Fur was flying and Marcus had a small cut above his eye, blood matting his fur.

I whistled at the two fighting dogs and Marcus's attention immediately switched to me, unluckily for him. Booth, seeing an opening, launched himself towards the golden wolf-dog and bowled him over. They were a mess of legs and snapping jaws, falling head over tail together.

"Aren't you going to stop them?" Sam inquired. I laughed.

"Hell no. Booth'll end it quickly."

Only moments after I said that did the dust settle to show Marcus on his back and Booth's smaller jaws around his neck. Booth, although technically a blue heeler, was not much smaller than his wolf-dog competitor and far more muscled. Marcus would have a lot more work to do if he wanted to beat Booth anytime soon. All of us needed to keep working – including me.

Booth hopped off the younger skinwalker and padded over to me, a small chunk of golden fur clasped between his jaws. He shifted back with a wide smile on his face. Marcus hopped up beside him, resting his elbow on the larger man's shoulder, earning a frown from Booth. "What's up?" Marcus asked cheerfully.

"Lunch'll be ready soon. Came to tell you to wrap things up."

"Pretty sure I just did," remarked Booth, glaring lazily at his younger companion, who just smirked back.

Marcus turned back to face me and straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. "Are these your hunter buddies?" I questioned, eyes scanning the boys up and down. His green eyes flickered to Dean and looked the scruffier man up and down, licking his lips.

"Marcus, don't do that," I said, glowering playfully.

"Didn't realize this one was yours," he threw his hands up in defense.

I scoffed, my cheeks reddening. Fuck, why did he always have to push his luck? "Dean's not my boyfriend." I crossed my own arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow at the blonde.

"So you're saying he's up for grabs?" he asked, shamelessly checking Dean out. The eldest Winchester was clearly unsure of what to do, his own cheeks dusted with red. Sam, on the other hand, was struggling to hold back laughter.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Let me remind you, Marcus, that you do have a boyfriend. I don't think Caeden would appreciate you making eyes at another man." At this Sam snorted and Dean whipped his head to glare at his brother. Sam just shrugged in response.

"In all honesty, I don't think Caeden would turn down a three-"

"Alright, that's enough out of you," Booth growled, placing a hand on the back of Marcus's neck and guiding him forward. Booth looked at me with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. "We'll meet you back at the main house," he said, before pushing Marcus in front of him, the blonde whining as they went but not struggling.

As soon as they were out of sight, Sam burst out laughing and Dean stared at his brother, appalled. "Dude, you just got hit on by a dog!"

Dean grumbled at his brother, his cheeks pink. "Can we just go eat lunch now?"

"Careful Dean, I think Marcus wants you for lunch," I added playfully. He glared sourly at me before marching back through the woods towards the house.

—

We woke early the next morning to prepare for the next hunt. "I can toss your stuff in the trunk," Sam offered, taking my small duffle bag. I thanked him and turned to my pack members with arms extended, beckoning them in for a hug.

"I shouldn't be gone too long, hopefully. Maybe a week or two. While I'm gone, Booth is in charge." Marcus huffed playfully at this, shooting Booth a teasing smirk. Booth glared in response. "Booth, keep them active, I don't want them lazing around while I'm gone."

"Not a problem. Stay safe," he ordered with a mock salute. I smiled back at him and gave him an affectionate hug. I turned with a wave and walked towards the Winchesters' car, grinning excitedly. I clambered into the backseat and waved good-bye as we took off down the road.

After a long day of driving, I couldn't wait to throw myself onto an uncomfortable motel bed. Just the thought of finally having enough space made me forget the discomfort for a brief moment in time. Perhaps if I had been allowed to shift I wouldn't be so cranky, but Dean's 'no fur' policy had to be followed if I wanted to continue working with the Winchesters. Sitting in the back seat, buckled in and unable to stretch out was a nightmare when I was so used to traveling my foot.

I stretched on the bed as soon as I dropped down, haphazardly tossing my bags on the floor. I arched my back and yawned, popping my tender back. My stomach growled as my eyelids dropped. "So what the hell are we supposed to be investigating in Minnesota?" I slurred sleepily.

Said Winchester glanced sideways at me, lips pursed and clearly unamused. "I thought we went over that during the drive," he grumbled with a single raised, unimpressed brow.

"So sorry, I was busy trying not to shred your upholstery," I rolled onto my stomach and glared at him, resting my chin on the back of my hands that laid flat against the bed. "You should be thanking me."

He scoffed. "If you did that, I would have shot you. No one touches Baby."

"Aww, you're a mechanophiliac. I bet she likes it in the tailpipe, huh?" He scoffed again and nearly choked on his beer. "When's Sam coming back with the food?" I whined.

"Soon, I hope, if it'll make your whiny ass shut up."

I huffed and sat up. "Explain to me again why we're here," I said. He glared my way and I flashed him a cheesy smile.

He turned back to his laptop before answering. "Long string of disappearances here, dating back... well, the list seems to be never-ending." He gestured frustratedly towards his computer screen and leaned back in his chair. "Last guy to disappear was a guy by the name of Alvin Jenkins," he said the man's name in an almost mocking tone. "Some kid was the last one to see him in a parking lot next to the kid's house."

"What'd the kid see?"

"That's what we're going to find out-" he lifted a finger into the air pointedly, "- after lunch."

—

The boy wasn't much help. All he had seen was Jenkins stumbling drunkenly towards his car, and the next he was gone with a loud crash. Kid couldn't even give a decent description of Jenkins' car, and now that was missing too.

I was never a fan of bars - too many smells, too many gross old men, and way too many people. But, bars seemed to be one of the boys' favorite hangouts, and at this point, I wasn't going to turn down a beer. It had been a long day, full of irritation, and I really didn't mind the burning sensation of alcohol slipping down my throat anymore.

"Police have not ruled out foul play," Sam stated, reading over a police report. I took another swig of my beer, watching Dean throw darts haphazardly at a board. "Apparently there were signs of a struggle." He looked up at his brother and Dean turned back to him with a shrug.

"You know they could be right, could just be a kidnapping," he said, gesturing to the police report as he referenced the investigators.

I chuckled. "Better hope it's not, or we'd have spent all that gas money getting here for nothing."

"Still one monster here we could hunt, Scooby," Dean teased. "And you bet your ass you're pitching in on the gas money." I snorted in response and he tossed another dart. "Maybe this isn't our kind of gig, Sammy," he continued.

"Yeah, maybe not," replied Sam, sounding disgruntled, "Except for this," he continued, pointing at a notebook. I knew it to be their father's old journal, though I had only seen it on a few occasions. I leaned against Sam's shoulder and read the page. "Dad marked the area, Dean. Possible hunting grounds and a phantom attacker."

I lifted an eyebrow and leaned further around Sam to read more. Dean joined me by Sam's other shoulder, staring quizzically at the page.

"Why would he even do that?" Dean questioned, snatching his beer off the table. Sam shook his head in response.

"Well, he found a lot of local folklore about a 'dark figure' that comes out at night and grabs people, then vanishes."

I raised my eyebrow at this. "And we're only finding out about this now?"

Sam swiveled in his chair to scowl at me. "I'm only just finding out about this now, too. I've actually been doing research while you two have been playing darts." I growled and he turned sharply back to Dean. "He found this too: this county has more missing persons per capita than anywhere else in the state."

Dean glanced between the journal and his younger brother. He took a deep breath, shook his head a little, and said, "That is pretty weird." He stopped on his way back to the dartboard and turned back to Sam. "Don't phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds? Jenkins was taken from the parking lot."

"There's a lot of phantom attacker types, Dean," I countered. "Skinwalkers in Navajo legend were thought to be evil witches that snatched people by possessing or turning into animals first. Do I look like a phantom attacker to you?" I asked.

Dean glanced suspiciously my way. "I haven't decided yet. Do you have a habit of kidnapping people?"

"Only the ones I really like," I smirked at him. He raised a beer in a mock salute.

"She's right Dean. Spring-heeled Jack, Phantom Gassers. They take people anywhere, any time," he added. He smiled at him for backing me up. "Look, Dean, I don't know if this is our kind of gig or not, but it’s worth sticking around a little longer."

"Yeah you're right," Dean cut him off. "We'll ask around more tomorrow." Sam agreed and Dean went back to his game. I took another swig of my beer, pondering whether I should join him or not.

"Right. I say we head back to the motel-"

"Woah, woah, easy there. Let's have another round," Dean countered, gesturing towards the table. I stretched and shook my head. I didn't particularly want another round – I wasn't looking to get plastered tonight.

Sam chuckled and closed his father's journal. "We should get an early start tomorrow."

"You really know how to have fun, don't you grandma," his brother teased.

"You know, Dean, not sure about you, but to me, watching you throw darts and Sam turn pages in a book for another hour really doesn't sound fun to me." He turned to me, looking shocked that I wasn't taking his side. I shrugged.

The elder brother glanced between the two of us, mock disgust on his features. "All right," he said, throwing one last dart. "I'll meet you outside, gotta take a leak," he grabbed his coat and made his way towards the bathroom.

"Me too, Sammy," I added, grabbing my own leather jacket. Sam chuckled.

"You just want that worker’s number, don't you?"

"What do you take me for Samuel, a heathen?" I feigned hurt at his words and he just chuckled and shook his head.

"I'll meet you two in the car," he said with a laugh

"Course Sam," I answered as I made my way towards the bathroom. I caught said worker’s eye on my way out and winked.

As I made my way to the door Dean caught up with me, a dumbfounded expression on his face. "What the hell was that?" he asked, sounding out of breath.

"It's called flirting, Dean. I hope you learned a thing or two from that." I grinned as he spluttered and tripped over his words. I glanced at him with a devious look in my eyes. "I'm sorry, Dean, were you looking to get laid tonight? It's not too late you know, I'm sure one of those burly bikers wouldn't mind bending you over their bed tonight."

His jaw dropped and I cackled. It had been a long time since I had teased someone like this, since before my uncle had left for his final hunt. It was a refreshing feeling, being able to leave someone speechless.

We exited the bar into the cool, crisp night air, Dean holding the door open for me. I nodded to him and he flashed a wide smirk as a puff of cold air left my lips. I breathed out again and rubbed my already cold hands together.

"It's almost spring, why is it so damn cold," I whined, following after the hunter. He chuckled lightly in response. He slowed his pace, glimpsing an orange tabby cat sitting on the hood of a car. My lips curled in disgust, and the cat hissed. I turned back to Dean, his own back to me rather than in the car. I raised an eyebrow and moved to stand beside him.

In his hands, he held his father's journal. I glanced between him and the book, not understanding the significance. It hit me as he walked quickly around the Impala, checking all the windows for any sign of Sam.

"Shit," I whispered, my breath fogging once more as it hit the cool night air. Not even moments later, he was racing towards the bar entrance, talking hurriedly to some bikers. They shook their heads and he whirled around, racing through the parking lot, and called Sam's name.

I walked slowly around the car, searching for any hints of his scent, any idea as to where he might have disappeared to. "Dean!" I called. The man turned frantically. I shook my head. "Freshest scent is right here, where I'm standing." His eyes seemed glazed as he processed the information before once again dashing madly around the small parking lot. Finally, he stopped, his eyes locking on something above him. My gaze followed his and landed on an old camera. I walked gingerly towards him as he stood in the center of the road, staring down the road as if hoping to see Sam.

—

The drive back to the motel was eerily silent. I didn't know what to say, and I couldn't help but feel guilty. I should’ve just left with Sam. I pulled my knees to my chest, careful to keep my shoes off the leather seat. At least I could do that much for Dean.

I kept mulling it over in my head, thinking of all the possible scenarios. Could I have fought the monster and ended our case early? Could I have saved Sam? What if we had both been taken, then what would Dean do? I resisted the urge to sigh, not wanting to bother Dean, even with the small things. I could practically feel the stress radiating off of him – his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and his jerky movements were tell-tale signs of his frustration and anxiety.

I wondered if similar thoughts were going through his head.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, a seat that felt like it didn't belong to me. I had never been in the passenger seat of the Impala, and to be here now, and in this circumstance, felt like I was practically spitting on Sam's grave.

I hated it. I hated the feeling of guilt. I always had.

I don't think I had felt this guilty or this upset since my uncle’s death. Even then there was nothing I could do, I knew that, but it still felt like I should have done something. If I had convinced him to wait two more hours to leave the house, would he still be alive? Or would another innocent person be dead at the hands of a wraith?

I hated that wraith. I hated the thing that killed my uncle with a passion -- and now I was beginning to hate the thing that took Sam. Maybe one day I would sink my fangs into that wraith's throat, but for now, I wanted to sink them into whatever took him.

My blood was boiling so much that I hadn't even realized we parked at the motel. I eyed Dean, who had his forehead pressed against the wheel, eyes closed. The sight practically drew a whine from deep in my chest. It was a gut-wrenching feeling, knowing that I had no clue how to help him. The cogs turned in mind – what could possibly comfort him?

It hit me just how little I knew about Dean. The snarky remarks, the teasing back and forth was all just... a way to hide how little we knew about each other. Was he a physical person, in need of touch when he was upset? Did he prefer to be left alone? He was a friend, even family at this point, but he had become so all too quickly. Hell, I didn't even know about his parents until nearly two months ago. I sighed, ran a calloused hand through my hair and leaned my head back against my- Sam's seat- baring my throat at the night sky.

"We should go inside, Dean."

The hunter didn't move or show any indication that he had heard me. I sat up slowly and scanned him with sad eyes. Tentatively, I reached my hand out and placed it gently onto his back, between his shoulder blades, thoroughly questioning if it was the right move. He jumped but slowly relaxed into the touch. After a few moments that to me felt almost like years, he lifted his head and gazed at me with dewy green eyes.

To say I was shocked was an understatement. Dean did not seem like the type to cry – although this wasn't truly crying. I scrunched my brows, not sure what to say. Our stare-down lasted for what felt like an eternity.

I had never noticed before, but his eyes were flecked with gold. They were almost a candy apple green in the bright afternoon sunlight, I knew that. But at night, the reflection of the stars in his eyes brought out the flecks of gold, like bits of caramel lost in a sea of green.

I hadn't realized how long I was staring until he turned his head sharply away from me, a light blush dusting his cheeks. Upon my realization, a brilliant, scarlet red bloomed across my own cheeks. I averted my gaze back to my hands, now clasped in my lap.

The hunter sniffed before rubbing a hand hastily across his face and reaching for the door handle. Without a word, he exited his beloved car and headed towards the door to our motel room. I followed quickly, hot on his heels and my feet barely making any noise against the paved ground, almost like a ghost.

As soon as we made it inside he threw himself onto his bed, not even bothering to toss his keys onto the small desk by the door or to take his shoes off. He fell face first, with no inhibitions. I sighed once again before I could stop myself and gently sat down beside him on the bed. He made no effort to move as the bed dipped beside him.

"Dean?" I cooed quietly, in what I hoped was a comforting voice. He only hummed in response. "Are you alright?" Stupid question. I flinched as soon as the words left my mouth. He turned his head to look at me, a steady glare on his handsome features. "Sorry."

I dropped backward from my sitting position to have my back flat against the bed. I curled onto my side and gazed down the length of the bed at Dean, his head roughly even with my mid-torso. He glanced towards me, a severe pout on his lips.

"It's not your fault, Dean," I whispered, echoing the same words I had been telling myself and struggling to believe. He snapped his face towards me, his stern glare present once more.

"Course it's my fault," he rasped, his voice hoarse as though he really had been crying. Perhaps what I had seen from him earlier really was his version of tears.

"If it is, then it's as much my fault. We both left him alone, knowing full well there was danger." Was that really true? How could we have known Sam would be snatched up? I scowled and turned away from him, mulling over my next words.Dean frowned at this and averted his gaze, refusing to accept what he knew was the truth – he couldn't have known.

"It's my job to look out for him," he mumbled against the scratchy comforter.

"It's not your job to protect him, Dean." The ever-present glare was back and he rolled onto his back, successfully shifting up the bed until he was eye level with me. He glared ferociously at the ceiling, so ferociously in fact that I'm sure if he could he would have set it on fire. I nibbled on my bottom lip, questioning what he needed to hear. It had been so long since I'd comforted someone, and I knew it was showing. "We're going to find him, Dean. And I assure you that if we don't, I'll go to hell and back and bring him back to you myself."

His eyes locked with mine once more, his green orbs swimming with unshed tears. Without thinking, I reached forward and brushed any escapees from beneath his eyes. I retracted my hand almost immediately upon realizing what I had done. I whispered a quiet apology, to which he only hummed in response.

"We're going to get him back. I'm not going to let anything hurt you boys, not now, not ever," I whispered quietly, still laying on my side, facing him. He turned his head and once more his green eyes fell upon mine. I hoped my own conveyed as much emotion as I felt.

I had never been good at comforting people. I had never really been taught to. For the longest time I hadn't needed to interact with anyone but my family. It wasn't until I was finally allowed to attend high school that I had been allowed to socialize with others of my age, and even then I was a loner. My parents had feared that I didn't have the control over my hunger that they had.

They weren't entirely wrong.

After my mother died and my father left, I was finally introduced to compassion. I wasn't well-versed or even particularly willing, but my uncle took his time with me.

Some of my fondest memories of him always involved his hugs. Despite his rough hunter demeanor, he was always cuddly and friendly, something my mother – his sister – had lacked. He offered a hug for every occasion, something I had been wary of at first. I wasn't used to hugs. That isn't to say that my parents didn't love me, I know they did – their love was just more... protective. Caging. But his love was the kind of love I really needed at that time.

Before I could even think to stop myself I was throwing myself onto Dean in some odd cross between a hug and a tackle. He let out an oof as I landed on him, his lungs deflating from the sudden impact.

"I wasn't expecting that," he muttered, a small smirk rising on his lips.

"Neither was I," I muttered back. He chuckled and, to my surprise, wrapped his own toned arms around my waist.

I'm not sure when, but at some point in our momentary silence, Dean had begun to play with the ends of my hair. If it had been anyone else at any other time I would have asked them to stop, but he seemed to visibly relax beneath me, something I was very pleased with given our current stressful situation.

"You really think we'll find him?" he whispered, worry evident in his voice. I lifted my head to search his face, my hair dropping from between his fingers.

"What? What happened to your confidence, Dean?" I questioned back. "You're always so sure of yourself."

"Because of Sam," he countered. "I feel like I have to be, to keep him safe and unconcerned." He frowned a bit before continuing. "Sam and my dad are my only reasons for anything. Without them, I-" he choked up and dropped his gaze. I searched his eyes the best I could, watching them swim with emotion.

"We'll find him," I whispered. "We'll find both of them." His eyes snapped to mine and once again I did my best to convey how I felt through a mere gaze. "We'll find Sam, and we'll kill the son of a bitch that took him. Then, we'll find your dad, and I'll smack him for making you worry so much."

Dean nodded and swallowed dryly, struggling to find the words he wanted to say - there were just so many. Finally, he managed to choke out a tired 'OK'.

It was only then, when I felt his hot breath fan my face, that I realized just how close we were. In an attempt to hide my sudden embarrassed blush I dropped my head into the crook of his neck and tightened my grip on him. To my surprise, he hummed in satisfaction.

Neither of us was well-versed in expressing our emotions through words. Body language was all we had, and I suddenly realized that perhaps that was why he made a habit of finding partners in run-down bars and beating walls until his knuckles were bloody. He – much like my old self – had few physical outlets for his emotions.

I was lucky I had my pack now. I knew I could rely on them and trust them to help me through anything. It was at that moment that I resolved to be that for Dean – I understood him without him needing to say anything because I had once felt the same way.

We stayed like that the rest of the night. When we rose in the early morning, we were a tangled heap of limbs and clothes, clutching to each other like the other was our lifeline.

I'm not ashamed to admit it was the best night's sleep I'd had in years.

[of-mutts-and-men]

Well, I can give you a public breeding. (That sounded better in my head...) There's a variation on that scenario in my head that goes like this:

The human this time is not a slave but a criminal - a political one, so they're actually the good one there - and the ruler/their political opponent wants not to just execute or imprison them - they want to publicly humiliate them, so that the humiliation is what sticks in public memory, instead of their actual political ideas.

So, the human is drenched in monster pheromones and pushed into an arena almost naked. Out of the opposing gates a monster is let out. The monster is a seasoned gladiator and not being given any weapons or armour is just a little concerning for them - they've fought like that before. No instructions also isn't something new - their master treats them practically like an animal and doesn't deem them worthy of any communication. What is surprising is seeing a tiny defenceless barely clothed human and feeling that odd sweet pull in the pit of their stomach that they haven't felt for quite a while - living in a cell alone - or ever at all - being raised in captivity.

The monster approaches the human slowly and the human does their best not to cower. They lock eyes and the human attempts a desperate attempt at negotiation - they start talking. And the monster understands. They both agree that the crowd wants a spectacle - and the guards at the sides of the arena are already getting a little agitated - and not providing one will only lead to more trouble for both. So they decide to take care of that growing need that the monster feels - the human quietly gives instructions, the monster is very very gentle - afraid of hurting the small delicate creature.

The crowd gets a show, even if maybe not the one they were hoping for and the end the monster just picks the human up and clearly intends to bring them back with them to their cell/pen. The guards make a move to interfere but they're stopped from the state box - the monster's owner and the human's unjust judge have been watching from there the hole time. They were counting on a different outcome - the monster tearing the human apart, or at least there being not much conscious left of them at the end - but they eventually decided that the monster taking a liking to them is amusing enough (mostly the monster's owner persuaded the human's opponent). You can't do politics while being stretched around a monster's cock under a gladiator arena, right?

Wrong. I bet they'd start a monster/slave/gladiator uprising akin to Spartacus.

If I was a politician I just might fold if I was presented with monster cock. Sorry to anyone who was hoping for change. Though after a few years with my monster lover I'd probably have a whole army of offspring that could lead a revolution lol. Thank u for the addition🙏