#Running with Wolves

[starrover]

Sam Sax, “Bestiary” from A Guide to Undressing Your Monsters

[enjoythesilentworld]

Chapter 1: Dogs Playing Poker

The Ulfssons, renowned owners of a multibillion kronor company, are practically modern royalty. Sergeant Detective Simon Eriksson is the only one who sees them for what they truly are: dirty criminals. But with the family’s sparkling reputation, Simon has never had any grounds to investigate further. Until now. When the disgraced son Wilhelm Ulfsson suddenly resurfaces as the new CEO, and a mysterious envelope appears on Simon’s doorstep implicating the company in a fraud scandal, Simon finally has what he needs to infiltrate and expose the truth. Wilhelm and Simon are on two sides of a war on drugs and corruption and greed. And yet, they just can’t seem to stay away from each other.

♠ Read here on ao3 ♠

Huge thank you to Roo for the beautiful header and this GIF! Look at that fucking thriller movie trailer! It's so fucking cool!

I am so incredibly excited to share this story. I've been working on this plot for literally months and am really happy with how it's coming together. Are y'all ready to see Wilhelm and Simon at each other's necks? (I know 'Slow Burn' is a tag, but really that's semantics. They're all over each other from the first second. You'll see.)

[pid-widgin]

Since the fic is out, I can share my new art with you guys!

Working with @a-fiery-fox and @whimsicalginger was wonderful, and I'm so glad to have been a part of this❤️

[audblogforfanfics]

I’ve been obsessed with Teen Wolf lately (specifically Stiles) and I keep picturing all the werewolves in wolf form (I dunno if all of them can turn into wolf forms but let me dream, okay?), and they’re running, but Stiles is running with them!

…

that was a shit description/explanation..

Basically I’m imaging Stiles running shirtless in the woods with a pack of wolves running with him (going slower than normal, but not by much cause Stiles can run FAST hehe)

[snvaladez]

“A Wolf & The Scaled Heights (2022)”

By S. N. Valadez

Description: Not all wolves fear life in the sky.

My Patreon If You Wanna Support: https://www.patreon.com/snvaladez/membership

Redbubble Shop: https://www.redbubble.com/people/SNValadez/shop

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@snvaladez?_t=8WVPTOfVCRP&_r=1

Buy Me A Coffee! :3: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/snvaladez

Art YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCjrLsmfgo568kH7mX_0uaqg

Gaming YouTube: https://m.youtube.com/channel/UCZa4nBX-2bQjgdq5I6nl5xQ

Tumblr: https://snvaladez.tumblr.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/snvaladez

DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/snvaladez

[decaffeinatedpartymuggoop]

People talk about how “overpowered” and freaky some of the physical feats in PJO and HOO are but I think people forget that all demigods inherently have enhanced, speed, agility, and strength. So at lot of these physical feats actually make a lot of sense in their “power scaling.”

And I know a lot of people like talk about the Lois Arc jump because that is insane but there are a lot of other feats that show off the enhanced attributes some of the other demigods have.

Like, Hazel ran after a Arion, the fastest horse alive for a WHOLE day. Hours upon hours on end. And even if Arion WASN’T the fastest horse he’s still. A horse. That Hazel was able to keep up with. And then run all the way home.

Reyna EASILY knocks away giant werewolves with a knife and used her javelin like a pole vault. Annabeth managed to fight Kronos, a whole ass Titan, to a standstill. And she’s been shown to perform moves only professional acrobatic and gymnast can do. Piper threw a fifty pound shield at Medea and was described to move fast as a viper.

Jason had dodged arrows that have appeared out of no where, no warning, and Percy has side stepped bullets. BULLETS.

Not to mention that with the Lycaon and werewolves they were all out running and keeping up with WOLVES.

So, yeah, demigods have freaky physical feats.

[mournfulroses]

Clarissa Pinkola Estés, from  "Women who Run with the Wolves," originally published c. 1992

[shotmrmiller]

pretend boyfriend but it's in a time where roads are nothing more than muddy tracks, making travel slow and cumbersome. the town's buildings are a mix of weathered wood and crumbling brick, faded paint peeling off their facades. wanted posters, yellow and tattered, are plastered on every available surface, faces of outlaws and fugitives who roam the countryside depicted in greyish ink.

the townsfolk go about their lives with a wary eye, and you go about yours with a sharp one, in search of opportunity: a cowboy too drunk off his wits to know his right from his left. the humble borough of blackthorn doesn't need any more working girls, no more ladies with hair down to their corseted waists beautifying the arms of both bounty hunters and farm hands alike.

that's fine, you reckon. you've always had a knack for survival. your deft fingers have made a living out of slipping into pockets and relieving men of their hard earned coin pouches when they lose themselves in drink and laughter. its not an easier life than that of the ladies in the saloon but it's yours, and you've learned to navigate it with equal cunning and charm.

but as people say, anything that can go wrong, will and tonight nothing seems to go right for you. just as you'd been slipping the stolen bills from your latest mark in between the swell of your breasts, he stirs from his drunken sleep, bedsheet tangled in his spurs as he struggles to rise onto unsteady feet. his movements are sluggish, muddy brown eyes blinking against the dim light of the quaint room.

you don't wait for him to ask any inane questions, you know when you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. you run out the door on bare feet, fisting the rough fabric of your dress to lift it above your ankles as you barrel down the stairs.

your shoulders ache from bumping into patrons as you try to quickly weave your way toward the door, your breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps. the saloon is a blur or faces and noise, the jaunty tune coming from the piano as fast paced as the galloping of your heart.

just as you reach the swinging doors, you glance outside through the dusty window panes and see someone right across the street in the patio of the drugstore.

the star on his chest gleaming even in the flickering light of the shop is distinctive. your heart sinks like a stone dropped into a well, the weight of the situation leaden over your puffed shoulders.

but you haven't made it this far while skirting around law and order without a sharp mind. your thoughts swirl in your mind as you run through options. a horse loosely tied to the hitching post out front, sleeping roll behind the saddle. you could take it but risk getting roped off by someone. slipping out the windows would draw too much attention. using the back door near the kitchen would have the owner on your arse.

shit. shit-

then you spot him. sitting alone at a table is a hulking, beast of a man. (his broad shoulders and burly frame makes him resemble more mountain than man tbh.) a small shot glass rests on the scratched surface before him, the only delicate item in his vicinity. the wide-brimmed hat he wears casts a shadow over his face but the glint in his eyes is unmistakable. maybe that's why even the other patrons have given him a wide berth. (the knotted scar that runs from the corner of his cheek pulling his lips into a permanent, twisted sneer makes the hair on the nape of your neck stand on end.)

desperation fuels your next move.

your hand trembles when you place it on the the exposed skin of his forearm that's covered in a fine layer of grime, as does your voice when you speak.

"hey-" you don't get to finish your sentence, feeling the words crumble into ash on your tongue when you realize you're out of time. the drunken idiot from upstairs is storming straight towards you, his nostrils flared, white etched on his knuckles. panic surges through you and so you move.

coming to stand behind the seated stranger, your arms cradle his large head, clammy palms flat on the sweat stained fabric of his union shirt. his body tenses under your touch, muscles cooling like a spring, but you muster all the bravado you can.

"if ya got a problem with me," your voice is steady despite the fear that's settled at the base of your spine, "take it up with my husband."

the drunk comes to an abrupt halt, his anger momentarily replaced by confusion, uncertainty, as he glances between you and the human(?) shield you're clinging to.

the room has fallen silent, all eyes on the unfolding drama. they watch with bated breaths, even the bartender had paused mid-polish, his hand frozen on the glass.

the man wavers, his resolve crumbling like freshly tilled dirt before you. but the final nail in the coffin is when your 'husband' grabs onto your arm and leads you to sit onto his lap, both your legs fitting on top of his one, feeling the tarnished buckle of his leather belt even through the couple of layers of your dress on your arsecheek, his arm cinching tightly around your waist.

his skin feels rough, scarred, yet warm, beneath your hand. (embarrassing that this surprises you.)

you can feel his voice vibrate from his chest and sink into your bones when he aids you in this mess you've created. "ya 'eard m'wife. piss off 'fore i make you."

his mouth twists into an ugly line but concedes defeat, telling your 'husband' to "keep his wh-wife on a tighter leash unless she's keen on ending up on a missing poster alongside the wanted ones."

when you turn in his lap to look outside the window, watching the drunk unsteadily get on his horse and leave, you give the man you're on a muted thanks and move to get up only-

the arm around your waist feels more like an iron band. you're can't get up. you can't leave. your feet don't even touch the wooden floorboards of the saloon. you turn your wide eyes toward him, lips parted in surprise.

he doesn't seem as surprised as you.

"wha'? thought you could jus' up and go 'bout your way?"

you open your mouth wider, to scream maybe, you aren't sure but he cuts you off with a sharp suck of his teeth.

"make trouble and there will be trouble. i'll drag your pretty arse to the sheriffs office by the hair."

the realization of what he is keeps you utterly frozen in place, any fight you'd had bleeding out of you.

a bloody bounty hunter. no wonder everyone had kept their distance.

"i'm gonna be finishin' this bottle and you'll be a good wife and draw me a bath in our hotel room."

(he plucks the dirty money from where you'd kept it and tosses it on the bar top, carrying you straight to where he'd hitched his horse and plops you in front, your back to his barrel of a chest. "youll bathe with me, gotta have you clean for our consummation.")

[stardustedknuckles]

Beau and Caleb get teleported directly on top of the bad luck bandits. It's unclear who is having the worse day.

[pien-art]

wot s1 basically <3 (click image for optimal quality)

available as print here ! available on redbubble !

[ksficrec]

Run with the Hares (Hunt with the Hounds)

By: @brighteuphony

Link: Ao3

Words: 9k | E | tw: -- | Ongoing

--

ANBU masks are passed down. Some are so notorious they never see the light of day, and some are better off staying buried. Kakashi finds himself faced with the past when the Hound is assigned to his guard detail.

🌸 I am so excited abt this fic!!! Brand spanking new, I am beta for it, and it's going to be so much fun!! tysm to brighteuphony for writing this and indulging with me hehehe, join us on this journey

[enjoythesilentworld]

Chapter 2: Burgundy Wallpaper

Simon tilted his head to the side, evidently letting it slide that Wilhelm had not answered either of his last two questions. “I find it hard to believe a CEO doesn’t notice all that money disappearing. And to an untraceable, offshore account, no less.” “Is that an accusation?” Wine sloshed dangerously in their glasses and threatened the nice, white tablecloth as Wilhelm shifted forward again, close enough to see the scar on Simon’s cheek, the bags under his eyes. “Just speculation about a fact of the case,” Simon retorted calmly, apparently unaffected by their close proximity. “Though, I guess if it comes out you fucked up this quickly after taking the crown… They might throw you right back in the hole, huh?”

♦ Read chapter 2 here, or start from the beginning ♦

+ Playlist.

[runningwithwolvesss]

[sweetmapple]

Give your heart and soul to charity,

‘cause the rest of you, the best of you,

honey, belongs to me

[inky-sun]

[bloomingdarkgarden]

E L A I N A R C H E R O N | Wild & Free

Run from what's comfortable. Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious. I have tried prudent planning long enough. From now on I'll be mad.

- Rumi