#and I mean anything from wolves to bears

[soaringlark]

I thought with the description of the chicken part that the person just decided to eat it instead of save it lol

Anyway, I didn't get the feeling; I felt like I wanted to play a game, not like I actually wanted to chase something down to hurt it. I wanted to play.

I don't know if you consider it hunting if it's not to kill. A lot of I spy and those type of games is also speculated to come from being prey and needing to be weary of our surroundings. Apes like us have forward facing eyes without being active hunters; they usually have them for depth perception when climbing rather than hunting. (Though they do eat meat if they have the chance)

Humans are not exclusively predators; we are only predators now because we have tools. Yes we have instincts to hunt, because we are hunters, but we were also prey before we took on hunting.

Our shared ancestor with apes was a prey item for predators alive at the same time. We clearly weren't bothered about being prey before, since we went on to take up hunting

I feel like any aliens that were prey at some point in evolution would have an odd fear of humans. Mostly cause they look like predators, act a bit like predators, and ARE predators. One perfect example is when we're focused on something like a mosquito that's been bugging us for a long time and we are just done.

Alien: "What. What..?"

Human: *HUNTING down a mosquito it saw*

Alien: ".... yeah I am really uncomfortable...."

Human: *quiet footsteps, pupils dialated, intense focus,*

Alien: *WAR FLASHBACKS*

Human: "Found you." *absolutely desimates the mosquito, squashing it into a million pieces as it's guts and various body parts liquidize into blood of the bloodthirsty, now stained on the palm of the human. A living being now reduced to a useless corpse as the human wipes the remains on their pants*

Alien: "I feel like I've just gained trauma."

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Do It For Me

Pairing: Marcus Lopez Arguello x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: After pissing off Brandy and finally getting what was coming for you. Looking for a quick way out, your eyes luckily land on the new kid. Thinking on your feet, you swoop I'm in for a little kiss to try and ward off the wolves that were on your trail.

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo with the square 'Fake Dating'

*Gif does not belong to me

Your slightly heeled boots clicked through the hallway quickly, walking at a steady pace so as to not let on to how much worry was flooding through your body. You hadn't meant to piss off Brandy, scratch that, you hadn't meant to piss off Brandy enough that she'd get her whole cheerleading squad to go after you.

That's why you were hurridly walking down the school corridor, not even bothering to look over your shoulder as you could hear their pig-squeal-laughs as they followed. As you went you could see heads start to turn when they heard the parade of cheerleaders, their eyes only setting on you after they realised what was happening. The more heads that turned, the more you began to realise just how doomed you might be.

It was only when your eyes landed on some guy you had never seen before. He stood tall as he opened his locker, shoving something into it that vaguely looked like some teddy bear that had poorly been impaled. Your eyes quickly scanned over him, trying to put together the puzzle pieces as to who he might be.

You have never seen him before in one of your classes, which could just mean he was in the year above but you didn't think so. He seemed too fresh, unaware of what he was getting himself into to be familiar with this place.

That was when you remembered what Billy had been telling you. Some new kid was being recruited into this school. Some child killer. The orphanage killer, or something like that.

You had no idea what this killer was meant to look like. Billy had told you stories but even then he hadn't said anything about the boy's features. How could he? He had never seen him before last night or whenever it was that the green-haired boy slunk off with his skateboard and too much excitement flickering through his bones.

You couldn't help but count this as a win as you realised this was the boy who set that orphanage on fire. Never had you thought you would say those words in your head.

Changing the course of your walk, you head straight for the new kid, placing a heavy hand on the locker next to his head and staring up with a large smile. Eyes were instantly on the two of you. If someone hadn't been staring at one of the two of you before, they definitely were now.

"Look who finally decided to show up after my months of begging." You exclaim, saying the first words that come to mind to make it seem like the two of you had known each other previous to joining the school. His head snapped towards you when the slam of your hand had first sounded, face full of shock which now morphed to confusion at your words. "You could've told me you were coming."

"Do I know you?" The boy said, voice not as loud as yours. It seemed he was trying to keep his words on the down low so as to not embarrass you in case you had made a mistake. How sweet.

"Don't be silly," You laughed, your voice calming but still loud enough for any onlookers to easily hear. Lowly though, your teeth bared in a smile to try and not draw too much attention to your next words though, you say, "Just play along."

He blinked almost owlishly at you in return as if your intentions still weren't setting in. You rolled your eyes, your irises landing on the teddy bear that had in fact been stabbed in his locker, a not stuck to it. You sniffed at that. Seems like you were right.

"Oi, cunt," One of the girls--one that you had never bothered to learn the name of--yelled from not too far away, her and her pack catching up to you.

That was the only kickstart you needed to reach up and grab onto the boy's face, pulling him down so he reached your height and smashing your faces together. Your lips moved quickly, almost in sync as he finally realised what was happening.

Reaching a hand up to place on your hip, the other awkwardly hanging in the air before cupping your cheek, he angled your face up slightly so it would be easier for him to kiss you back.

You could hear the sudden stop of shoes as the group after you stopped a few feet away, watching with wide eyes as you kissed the boy's home killer. Someone whistled, probably some lowlife or one of your friends who were also lowlifes. You didn't care though, not when you heard the muttering or the laughing, not when a horde of footsteps kept walking, acting as if nothing had happened.

It was only when the bell rang did you pulled back, taking a big breath of air in as you looked up at the boy through hooded eyes. Hopefully, you didn't share any classes with him or this was going to be an awkward few hours.

"I'm Marcus," The boy says, blinking at you with a smile on his face as if he couldn't believe what just happened.

You returned his smile, grinning up at him sharply. "Hi Marcus, you just saved my arse." Slowly, you push yourself off the locker you had been leaning against, ready to go about your day as if nothing had happened. Marcus didn't seem to like the sound of that.

"What, no name?" He teased, shutting his locker and trailing after you, not caring if the storage unit was actually locked. "I did just save your arse, according to you."

"Don't you think it's a bit too early for me to give you my name?" You joked, walking down the hall without stopping or waiting for him to catch up.

"Well, you did kiss me," Marcus pointed out, grinning cheekily as he fell into step next to you. "I think that you should count for something."

"I don't kiss and tell," You said simply, leaving him to wonder for a little bit longer.

"Well, if you're not going to tell me your name," He started, pulling out a folded piece of paper from his blazer pocket. Unfolding it, he turned it around and showed it off to you. "Could you at least tell me where my next class is?"

You take one look at the piece of paper and say, "Fuck."

[bunjywunjy]

Are bears just.... undomesticatable

My friend and I were talking about it today, how humans will pet anything and domesticate anything even remotely friend shaped...so what happened with bears?

I mean we tamed wolves and big cats (domesticated themselves but ya know) oxen, deer and birds, wild boar....why never did we make tiny lovable bears?

well, the shortest answer to that is that domestication isn't really something we did TO animals, it's a process that happens over time that requires work from both ends! it's a two-way-street, so to speak.

see, for domestication to really work, the domesticated species has to actually need something from humans that they then get when they enter a partnership with us.

for dogs? companionship, food, shelter, safety of the group, and assistance with child rearing and territory defense.

for cats? access to a steady food supply, shelter and safe places to rear their young, companionship.

for horses? protection, safety and shelter, healing of injuries and illnesses, and a constant sense of reassurance.

for livestock animals like cows, pigs, and goats? guaranteed safety, healing of injuries and illnesses, assurance of producing young in a safe place, and an eventual swift mostly-painless death free of the agonies of the wilder food chain.

but bears?

bears don't want anything from us. bears don't NEED anything from us. they'll eat our trash, but they're just as happy pulling salmon out of a river somewhere.

they don't have any use for human protection or shelter. they'll eat you if they think it's a valid option on the table. (pun intended)

so no, no matter how much you might like a domesticated grizzly to cuddle up to on cold nights, they're just not interested and so it will never happen.

and that's okay! there are some animals that we just don't have anything to offer to, and it's good to acknowledge that.

bears belong in the wild.

[raccoon-in-the-danger-room]

Sometimes I see reviews about D&W where people think Worst Wolverine's backstory is super lacking. That they expected something epic like how Mysterio tricked Logan to slaughter everyone in the Old Man comic run.

But that plot, at least to me, doesn't make The Worst Wolverine. It probably makes the Most Tortured Wolverine -- the story of a man slaughtering his own family with his bare hands because he was mind controlled. Which inevitably created a power vacuum so gigantic that the world basically collapsed as supervillains take over the world.

But the title of Worst Wolverine should belong to the Logan that completely abandons his most important moral value: to be the protector.

Sure, he tends to be nomadic and at times self-isolates, but at his core he truly knows what it means to be a pack animal: to be a part of a cohesive family unit, rely on others, be a guardian for the weak.

In a literal sense, a common backstory for him was that he just fucked off from human society after he mutated to live with a pack of wolves. He turned feral, but they also taught him about the importance of community.

Even if you aren't a fan of the wolf background (which I AM because I think it's funny and dramatic as hell), there's other stories where he got taken care of by the Blackfoot Tribe and Lord Ogun before somehow winding up in the Weapon-X Program. Then, the Hudson family rescued him and helped him gain his humanity back after the adamantium experiments. He joined Department H, and sometime after, he found his place with the X-Men.

My point being that past or present, Logan has always belonged to a family. He needs it -- his human AND animal side both need it. He's not meant to be a creature of solitude. When he is, it's a form of punishment that he inflicts upon himself because he doesn't feel worthy to be around the people he loves or he's worried about hurting them. Or it's something inflicted upon him -- aka he's been captured and is being experimented on.

So what does all this tell us about Logan's moral code? He cares deeply for others because it's in his nature to be a part of a pack and he will do anything to protect them.

He's very caring towards animals (ex. looking after wolves that took care of him, mercy killing a bear in The Wolverine, and saving the horses in Logan). He tried to save Silver Fox's life when Sabretooth attacked her. When his wife Itsu was murdered, he relied on the advice of Lord Ogun to get vengeance for her with the Muramasa Blade. He joined Department H and Alpha Flight because he owed the Hudsons so much after re-acclimating him to society. He stayed with the X-Men because Charles gave him a home, family, and purpose outside of being a weapon. He enabled him to be the good man that he is by not only using his powers for the good fight but also being a teacher for the students.

As a character, Logan was created to reflect the archetype of the cowboy/samurai with the morals of honor, integrity, and justice. He's also not afraid to be judge, jury, and executioner for the people he loves. He's a man of action.

So what is the antithetical? A man who dishonors himself by not taking his job seriously. A man of inaction who abandons those he loves. A man who doesn't seek justice but wallows in regret and guilt.

And what did the Worst Wolverine do?

He let his fondness for drinking harm his work. While he was drinking at a bar, a group of humans invaded the X-Mansion and killed a large part of the staff, students, and X-Men. He entered a berserker rage where he murdered the invaders AND innocent people. He tarnished the legacy of the X-Men.

The title of Worst Wolverine doesn't go to the man who got brainwashed and killed without knowing. The title goes to the Logan who killed indescriminantly and didn’t want to stop.

He chose to walk away when they called out for him. He went into a beast state that made the public completely turn against the X-Men in just one night. Instead of making up for his sins, he just went back to the bar -- the very thing that killed his family. He did everything he could to go against his morals of honor, integrity, and justice.

He was a man who failed his family.

THAT'S what makes him The Worst Wolverine.

[justjudethoughts]

In Defense of Peter Pevensie. Originally written in response to accusations of Peter being "less complex" than other Narnia characters

If King Lune is the embodiment of masculinity as father, then Peter is the embodiment of masculinity brother. As High King, he becomes the brother of his people, but those seeds were sown in his own family. 

From the very beginning of the story Peter is the leader of the Pevensie children, a job he evidently takes very seriously. But, unlike a lot of eldest siblings, he doesn’t use his status and power as a means to swagger around and lord it over the others. Quite the opposite, actually. It is immediately clear that one of Peter’s main functions in the Pevensie family is cheerleader of his siblings. This is shown not only in his open praise of their talents (for example, he hypes up Susan’s talent of archery in PC and cheers on Lucy for having been right after none of them believed her), but also generally tries to keep them in high spirits. 

Take the context of LWW. The Pevensies are sent to the countryside because of air raids. They are going into a strange house with a strange man because the Germans are obliterating everything the children have ever known or called home. All of them are scared, Edmund’s bullying Lucy, and Lucy may or may not be going insane. But Peter can’t show any of them that fear, because he’s the oldest. They can’t know he’s scared, so he puts a bold face on it. One of the first things he says in LWW is “We’ve landed on our feet and no mistake” when he looks at the big house. He argues they are going to have a delightful summer after all. The next day, when the others are disheartened by the rain, he suggests they explore the house.

As the years go on, Peter earns the title “Magnificent.” In this, Peter truly embodies the  JPII quote, “the ultimate test of your greatness is the way you treat every human being.” He has a bleeding heart for the least of these, but in an unassuming, humble way. Peter is not a man of pomp and circumstance. He has a servant’s heart, perhaps most evident in PC. 

Upon returning to Narnia and learning of Caspian’s plight, he immediately makes it known that he has no intention of replacing Caspian. “I haven’t come to take your place, but to put you in it” is among the first things he says to his new friend. This isn’t about winning fame or glory or reliving the old days. This is about making right what was wrong. 

He is generous with the Narnia creatures, even when they are a bit silly. When trying to pick a Marshall, he suggests the Giant Wimbleweather. Caspian warns him that the giant isn’t very smart, to which Peter responds, “Of course not. But any giant looks impressive if only he will keep quiet. And it will cheer him up.” Part of his reasoning is simply the injured feelings of poor Wimbleweather who earlier entirely messed up an important battle.  The following conversation also takes place while they are searching for a Marshall. Reepicheep offers his assistance:

"I am afraid it would not do," said Peter very gravely. "Some humans are afraid of mice——"

"I had observed it, Sire," said Reepicheep.

"And it would not be quite fair to Miraz," Peter continued, "to have in sight anything that might abate the edge of his courage."

Instead of embarrass and insult Reepicheep by explaining that he is far too small and unassuming for such a job, he appeals rather to humans' fear of mice. Even while battle prepping, his is concerned about the hearts of his people. Bulgy Bear, too, he allows to be a Marshall, as it is the right of bears, no matter how silly they are. 

Peter understands that duty means doing what is right, regardless of how it makes you feel. His first battle happens because Susan and Lucy are being chased by the wolves. When he hears Susan’s horn, he runs to help her. The book says, “Peter did not feel very brave; indeed, he felt he was going to be sick. But that made no difference to what he had to do.” His sisters needed him. And so he showed up. The same is true in PC, when he engages Miraz in single combat. Edmund asks if he can beat Miraz. Peter responds that he is fighting to find out. He goes in completely unsure that he is ever going to see his family again, but he does it anyway. Because Narnia needs him. Caspian needs him. His people need him. And his feelings aren’t the deciding factor. 

When he makes mistakes, he owns up to them. In LWW, when the children plead before Aslan on Edmund’s behalf, Peter blames himself for being too hard on Edmund. In PC, when they finally see Aslan, he apologizes for having led them wrong the whole time. He is always trying to do his very best and falling short like the rest of us. But he accepts his fault with humility, gets back up and tries again. 

By the Last Battle, we get to see Peter in his truest form. Even though he has been in England for years, when the seven friends see what looks like a ghost, he is the one who stands up and orders it to speak. Clad in his suspenders and button-down shirt, Peter is once more High King. “Shadow or spirit or whatever you are," he says, "If you are from Narnia, I charge you in the name of Aslan, speak to me. I am Peter the High King." And when night falls on Narnia for the last time it is Peter, once so scared to speak to Aslan (and even attempted to make Susan do it for him) that shuts the door. It is Peter that jests with Lucy when she weeps for Narnia, trying to lighten the mood. It is Peter that she turns to, time and time again, with her questions. It is Peter that Lucy, and all of the other friends of Narnia, trust to lead them. 

It is also Peter, who, “shortly and gravely” tells Tirian about the fall of Susan. Because he has to. Because here he is, once again, the eldest, the leader. Here he is once again faced with the unpleasant task of shouldering the burden for others. But he won’t make Edmund or Lucy explain (in fact, they don’t say anything about Susan). Peter takes that pain for them, forces himself to form words. Perhaps, deep down, he blames himself. He always was a bleeding heart. 

There are so many other things I didn’t include. I could talk about how Peter immediately offers to help Tumnus, simply because he did the decent thing and didn’t kidnap Lucy. Or his beautiful, redeemed relationship with Edmund. I could talk about all the times he is a rock for Susan, or his steady leadership despite his own hesitation. But really and truly, my point amounts to this: Peter is a brother. He is steady and humble and down to earth. He is brave. He is chivalrous and courteous and overflowing with affirmation for those he loves. He is a servant heart. 

When I think of Peter, I think of carpentry and the honesty of working with your hands. I think of campfires and a night sky full of stars, and the feeling of warm flannel. I think of laughter and 19th century books for boys, and tomes upon tomes of Latin. I think of warm drinks, hot cocoa or coffee or tea, and the safety of home. It is home I think of most of all. 

[sophsicle]

I'm Sorry I'm the One You Love

Part I (Part II)

Sirius Black isn't in love with James Potter. Though sometimes Remus looks at him like he is. Like Sirius is sad and pathetic and...he doesn't even know, pining?

But he isn't.

Well.

Alright.

Sad and pathetic, perhaps. Depending on who you ask. On when you're looking. But he isn't pining. And he isn't in love with James.

That would be too easy.

Sirius thinks he could bear just being in love with him. Thinks that's a pill he could swallow. Unrequited feelings and all that. He'd mope around and write sad songs and drink too much. But eventually he'd get past it the way people seem to do with those kinds of feelings. But he isn't in love with James, is the problem.

He's fucking consumed by him.

"Sirius."

"Don't start."

Remus huffs, but, mercifully, goes back to his coursework, shaking his head while he does. Sirius, on the other hand, keeps staring at James and Lily. They aren't doing anything really, Sirius doesn't reckon Evans is one for big, public displays of affection. But then, maybe that'd be better. James and him don't - they've never - done that. Kiss or anything. So. It probably wouldn't feel so much like a kick in the fucking teeth the way watching them now does. Leaning into one another, heads nearly pressed together, whispers traded back and forth, secret smiles, nudging feet. James and Sirius have done that plenty.

Remus sighs again. "Why don't you talk to him?"

After a few seconds Sirius manages to pull his eyes away from the grotesque spectacle on the other side of the library. Why the hell are they sitting there anyway? Surely they could have sat at the same bloody table?

"I talk to him every day," Sirius says blankly. Which earns him a deeply unimpressed look.

"You know what I mean."

"I don't."

"You do."

"Don't."

He gets an eye roll this time. "Fine," muttering as he picks up his quill. "Have it your way then."

Remus has freckles splashed across his nose and cheeks, and just about the longest eyelashes Sirius has ever seen. He's obsessed with them, to tell you the truth. He's asked Remus if he uses some kind of potion for them but the other boy only scrunched his nose up, giving Sirius a look he didn't understand.

Remus's eyes flick up again now, meeting Sirius's, finding him staring. Sirius doesn't look away. He isn't embarrassed. Not about this. Not about most things, honestly.

"What?" Remus ask warily.

Sirius only shrugs. "Astronomy Tower? Tonight?"

Remus holds his gaze for a long moment before dropping his head again. "Fine." He doesn't sound overly enthusiastic but then, he never does with Sirius.

Sirius has never kissed James. Not even once. Though he's thought about it a few times. Sometimes he wants to ask James if he's thought about it too. Just so he knows. He's never kissed James.

But he has kissed Remus.

Loads.

He thinks he might be an expert at this point.

It takes the edge off. Makes him feel less like he's going insane every time he sees James. Like he wants to eat him and not in a sexual way, not really, more like in the way wolves want to sink their teeth into the necks of rabbits. Want to snap their spines. Want to feel them go limp. Want to swallow them whole so that there's no difference anymore. Between them. Between us. I've made you part of me. Bone of my bones. Blood of my blood. Skin of my skin.

See. It's not love. Sirius doesn't know what it is but it's not that.

After a few more seconds he kicks Remus under the table, causing the other boy to look up in exasperation. But this time when their eyes meet Sirius smiles the way he knows Remus likes. Feeling his insides grow warm when Remus smiles back - even if he's a little delicate about it.

Sirius isn't in love with James Potter.

But he might be in love with Remus.

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:16」 — s.changbin

» stray kids menu | changbin menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ werebear!Changbin × fem!Reader wc: 4.1k summary: Changbin just wanted to have a nice camping trip with his girlfriend but she has other ideas. genres/themes/au: fluff, smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: fishing, cleaning said fish, camping, storms, food & alcohol consumption; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: so this one is a follow up to last years (which I just posted and I’m sorry about that lol) but werebear!Changbin lives rent free in my head. I love the concept but tbh any werecreature concept for Changbin is so good and I will die on this hill. Thank you for reading! The next one is a Seventeen one with a certain maknae. So please look forward to that! Thank you for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), outdoor sex (it's fucking in tents lol i'll see myself out), strength kink, oral (m receiving, f receiving), deepthroating, fingering (f receiving), protected sex (do this. Use protection like them), use of pet names (hers: baby, babe, etc.; his: babe, Binnie, bear, etc.), soft dom!Changbin, switch!Reader, that should be all but let me know if I missed something! kinks: Outdoor sex + strength kink dialogue prompt: ❛❛ I cannot possibly focus with your damn hand in my- ❜❜

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This wasn’t exactly how he envisioned his camping trip with his girlfriend going but Changbin wasn’t complaining, not when you looked so pretty on top of him, taking his cock like it was made for you and you alone.

The trip had started out innocent enough, driving to the national park where Changbin often went camping on his own. This was the first time he was taking you with him and he had been beyond ecstatic to show you around his stomping ground.

Your initial worry of running into something dangerous dissipated quickly when Changbin reminded you that it wasn’t the wolves, or the bears, or the big cats that were the scariest thing in the forest. It was him.

Not long after the fateful night you gave yourselves to each other, Changbin told you the truth. He was plagued with a curse that often left him irritable, standoffish, and withdrawn once a month: he was a werebear. It came as a shock and at first, you tried to play it off but the more he explained, the more everything started to make sense.

His terrible mood swings that always seemed to happen once a month, and always around the full moon. His unexplainable illness that also accompanied his irritability. The inexplicable display of strength he showed that night and ever since. It wasn’t until your first full moon with him that you truly understood.

He’d taken you with him, ensuring you would be safe as he locked himself in a shed, hidden deep within the woods, deeper than you thought anyone would normally venture and well off the beaten path. He’d shown you the truth and while the thought of it terrified you, there was an undeniable attraction to the raw show of strength he exhibited when he nearly tore the bars from the windows of his makeshift cell.

Since then, you’d been by his side, thankful he chose to share that side of him with you so that you would not only know what you were getting yourself into but also because it meant he trusted you with his secret. Your relationship with Changbin blossomed naturally, albeit not in the order most relationships did but you wouldn’t change anything about it.

After being together for nearly two years, he finally decided he was sick of having his own space and wanted to find a place you could share together. You offered to let him move into your apartment and as much as he liked your place and the memories it held, he wanted to find a new place for you to make yours, together.

It had taken nearly 6 months to find a place that met your criteria but once you were both on the same page, you found a cute two bedroom top floor apartment not far from your current building. It was another historic building in the quiet part of town, away from the hustle and bustle of downtown. The move was easy when you had a boyfriend who despite his smaller stature could very easily lift boxes that would make any ordinary man buckle under the weight.

The furniture was easy as well. Your couch was moved in the middle of the night so no one would see Changbin singlehandedly carrying it up the stairs of the new building. Your bed, being bigger than Changbin’s and much more comfortable, was carried in the same way: under the cover of night.

Whatever didn’t fit in the new apartment was put in a storage unit until you could sell it, which Changbin graciously offered to pay for. The new apartment was bigger than both of your old ones but still cozy and comfortable.

The dark hardwood floors contrasted well with the lighter tone walls. The kitchen faced the small balcony with floor to ceiling windows that separated the two. Vaulted ceilings made the space feel much bigger and Changbin enjoyed living on the top floor with no one above him.

The other nice thing about this building was the walls were thick which meant you didn’t have to be quiet during your more vigorous activities, a quirk Changbin took full advantage of as he made sure to break in every new surface of the kitchen by either bending you over it or laying you back on top of it.

Only after being settled into the new apartment, did Changbin ask you to go camping with him. Fall was settling in, a distinct chill in the air as the leaves of the few trees in the city started to turn. Browns, oranges, yellows, and even reds decorated the branches before the leaves inevitably fell to the ground to be swept away by some street cleaner if the wind didn’t get to them first.

You were beyond excited to go camping with Changbin. You hadn’t been since you were quite young and the prospect of being alone in the woods with your boyfriend posed many new experiences for the both of you. The thought of sharing a tent in the middle of the forest with a campfire, so far from anyone, sounded equal parts spooky and romantic.

Changbin had most of the essential camping gear packed away in the storage unit and once retrieved and all things accounted for, there were only a few items you still needed to get. A trip to the closest outdoor good store fulfilled the rest of the items needed and after requesting time off from work, you were on your way out of the city to spend a week in the woods with your werebear boyfriend.

What could possibly go wrong?

Despite how smooth things went from leaving to arriving at the forest, your trip seemed to be plagued by some dark cloud as not even ten minutes into your hike, you tripped over a downed log and fell, scraping your hands and knees. Changbin was ready with the first aid kit, cleaning and disinfecting the wounds before patching you up.

He kept a much more watchful eye on you from then on, making sure to help you over anything he deemed remotely dangerous. He jokingly offered to carry you, pack and all, if you kept tripping over things. You briefly thought about taking him up on his offer when you slipped over a moss covered rock but ultimately decided to just be more careful and cautious.

The first stop of your trip ended with you camping several yards from a river that wound through the entire forest. Changbin initially was going to set up right beside it but after noticing the sky, he decided higher ground was a smarter move. When you asked him about it, he said it was his intuition.

That night, you were eternally grateful for the extra blankets and even portable heater he brought, not that his body wasn’t a portable heater in of itself. The temperatures plummeted down near freezing as a massive thunderstorm blew in. Changbin’s intuition was right on the money. The torrential downpour made the river swell to twice the size it had been the day before and due to his smart decision making, you were safe from the roaring river that raged just a few yards from your tent.

Changbin made sure you were kept snug and warm, using the portable heater while he was awake before using his body warmth to keep you from freezing. It did the trick and once you got warm initially, you never got cold again throughout the night.

The next morning looked like the scene out of a disaster movie. Branches littered the shore of the river which had reduced in size almost back down to what it had been before. There were even some litter like old tires and even a torn up tent that had washed downriver. The last one had Changbin concerned and after leaving for a brief hike, he discovered an old abandoned camping site which he surmised the tent had come from.

Though you were ready to pack up and move on, Changbin assured you that the second night wouldn’t be as rough. You instead kept camp by the river, going for a hike with Changbin, following the river as it got faster and faster until the forest opened up and the river gave way to a fantastic cascade that plummeted down the side of a massive cliff at least thirty feet.

At the bottom was a deep pool where the water collected before continuing on into the river and snaking through the trees before disappearing out of sight. You wanted to climb down and check it out but Changbin promised next time, he would plan a course that included this spot.

After your hike, you returned to camp and Changbin surprised you by pulling out a couple of fishing rods. You’d never been fishing as you always thought it was kind of boring and the idea of skewering a worm on the end of a hook had your skin crawling.

Thankfully your boyfriend took over, hooking the bait before showing you how to cast. It wasn’t exciting by any means, waiting for the fish to bite but once you did hook a fish, you were so ecstatic, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Changbin had to take over, reeling it in for you until the fish finally flopped out of the water and danced for a moment on the end of your line.

It was a trout, he told you. The first one of the day and you caught it. After the initial shock and excitement wore off, you were ready to go again but you still refused to bait your own hook, something Changbin didn’t mind doing at all.

After several hours, you managed to catch quite a few fish. Changbin showed you how to gut and clean the fish, tossing the insides back into the water where he told you it’s actually beneficial to the ecosystem. Other creatures feed on the entrails like crawdads and other fish. It’s better to toss them in the water than leave them on the banks.

Dinner that night was the fish Changbin cleaned and fileted with some veggies and a few mushrooms he found on your hike. After dinner, you relaxed by the fire, enjoying the warmth it provided while drinking a beer from the pack brought on the trip. 

The next morning, you helped pack up and continued on past the river and further into the forest. The next stop was right at the edge of a clearing down the mountain from where you had stayed. Changbin was certain this was a good place to camp, taking note of the tall grass that looked wholly untouched by the rains from the other night. 

He found a nice flat spot in the shade of the trees to set up the tent as well as an old fire pit ringed in rocks. While he tried to set up the tent, you kept distracting him. You weren’t sure what it was about how he looked that morning when you woke up but you couldn’t seem to keep your hands to yourself. The extra attention you gave him made him blush but he couldn’t complain with all the additional kisses and lingering touches. He liked it.

After he finally got the tent set up, he entered to unfurl the mats to place under the sleeping bags. You followed him, helping him with the pillows until you couldn’t take it anymore and needed to have your hands on him. Changbin couldn’t help but chuckle as your hands wandered, feeling up his bicep as he flexed, pulling the sleeping bags from their stuff sacks one by one.

“I’m trying to set up our tent,” he said softly, grabbing one of your hands and kissing the back of it. “You’re distracting me,” he added, chuckling as your hands moved, sliding over his chest as you moved behind him, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling into his neck. “What's gotten into you?” he asked as he laid out the sleeping bags over the mats. 

Instead of answering him, you placed light kisses along his neck, enjoying the way he paused, tilting his head to give you more access. “Seriously,” he sighed as one of your hands slid down his stomach to palm over his semi-hard cock. “What's going on?” he asked.

You nipped at the skin below the shell of his ear, hand massaging against him harder and making him groan as he paused, eyes fluttering shut. “Can’t even wait for me to finish?” he murmured, moving his hand over yours as he lightly bucked into your touch.

���Let me finish this and then I’m all yours,” he murmured, pulling your hand back as much as he didn’t want to. He wanted nothing more than for you to have your hands all over him but he also wanted to make sure the tent was set up fully.

You whined, pouting at him as you moved your hand back, making him chuckle. His breath caught as your hand slipped into his pants, darting under the waistband of his underwear to firmly grasp his hot cock in your warm hand. “Fuck,” he groaned as you started to stroke him. “Baby, what has gotten into you?” he asked again as you started to stroke him faster.

“Am I distracting you?” you whispered in his ear as his hips chased your movements, bucking against your hand. “Why don’t you keep going?” you added, nipping at his earlobe. “I cannot possibly focus with your damn hand in my – hng!” he groaned as your hand squeezed him a little harder.

He grabbed your wrist, holding it steady as he rutted into your touch. “F-fuck, baby. Gonna cum if you keep doing that.” At his words, you pulled your hand from his pants, ignoring the glare he gave you until you pushed him back against the sleeping bags and grabbed the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down past his hips and quickly taking hold of his cock again.

Changbin let out a gasp, head falling back as your hand moved up and down his shaft before taking the tip into your mouth, your tongue warm and went against his skin. He let out a guttural moan as your head sank down, taking as much of his thick cock onto your mouth as you could, teeth lightly scraping against the skin.

His hands moved to the back of your head, pushing you down more. “Holy shit, babe,” he gasped as you took more and more of him in, relaxing your jaw and pushing until his cockhead was nestled against the back of your throat.

Letting out a shaky breath, Changbin raised his head slightly, taking in the sight of his cock disappearing into your mouth. He groaned as he felt your swallow against the tip of his cock, aching for it to be buried in your throat. As if you read his mind, you forced your head down, the head of his cock pushing into your throat and he choked out a moan, hips bucking slightly as he held your head down.

Your lungs begged for air but you waited, saliva starting to spill from your mouth and drip down the small part of his cock that didn’t fit into your mouth. “Oh fuck, baby,” he moaned as you swallowed around him, feeling his cock throb and twitch against your tongue. “M’gonna cum,” he breathed out, fingers tightening their grip on your hair as he thrusted once more, thick ropes of cum shooting out of him and painting your throat.

You wait until the last of it finished spurting from him before you pulled back, his cock slipping from your throat and mouth and air finally invading your lungs as you inhaled deeply. You look at your boyfriend, watching as his chest rose and fell, head lying back against the sleeping bag. His eyes fluttered open taking in your triumphant expression. “Fuck that was so hot,” he groaned as you pulled his pants up over his now flaccid cock.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you right now,” he said as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. “But I like it,” he said with a crooked grin. You wiped your lips on your sleeve, giving him another smile. You started to pull away but he grabbed your wrist. “Let me return the favor,” he croaked. You shook your head. “It’s okay,” you replied, voice slightly hoarse. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he replied, gently pulling you to take his place, lying down where he’d just been laying moments before. He quickly peered outside the tent, grabbing your packs and bringing them inside to set against the side of the wall. He zipped up the tent entrance and turned to you, moving to grab your leggings and pull them down, slipping your boots off at the same time.

He made quick work of your panties, pulling them off before settling down on his stomach, face level with your pussy. He licked his lips, spreading your folds before giving you a slow lick from your entrance to your clit, his tongue flat against you. He let out a groan as his tongue swirled around your clit, the vibrations making you gasp as your back lightly arched off the ground.

“Binnie,” you breathed out, fingers combing through his curls as he lapped greedily at your cunt, savoring the taste as he moved his hands, holding your hips in place. He groaned against your skin as he teased your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your thighs squeezed his head slightly as he suckled on the sensitive nub. “B-Binnie,” you moaned, your free hand moving over his on your hip.

You pulled his hand up, guiding it under your sweatshirt to your chest. Taking the silent plea, Changbin pushed your sweatshirt up, groping your breast as he continued to suck and tease your clit with his tongue. His hand slipped under your bra, palm hot against your skin as he kneaded.

Without breaking contact with your pussy, he moved his hand, squeezing under your back to undo your bra clasp with expert precision before pushing the cups up to expose your tits. Both of his hands cupped your chest as he kept his mouth trained on your pussy. You placed a hand over his as he kneaded your tits, lightly raking your nails against his scalp with your other hand.

You felt his teeth graze your clit and your hips rolled up into his face, grinding against him. He let you, holding his tongue flat against your clit as you continued to buck your hips, riding his face as your orgasm drew closer and closer. Changbin moved his hands down, sliding them under your ass as he focused all his attention on your clit, letting you grind against his tongue.

You moaned loudly, a firm grip on his hair while your other hand fondled your chest, pinching one of your nipples as you came, moaning a chant of your boyfriend’s name and a slew of curses as he helped you ride out your high. Changbin lapped up every drop of your release, his cock painfully hard against the sleeping bag. 

You gasped as you came down from your climax, Changbin wiping his mouth with his shirt as he crawled over you, kissing up your stomach and chest, stopping to run his tongue over your nipple before he enveloped it with his mouth, suckling softly. He pulled back, letting it fall from his mouth before he took you in a sear kiss, tongue invading your mouth quickly.

You felt his cloth covered cock, hard again, against your crotch. “Binnie, baby,” you whined, rolling your hips up to meet his. “I need you.” He chuckled against your skin, littering kisses along your neck. “Is my baby impatient?” he asked softly, his hands pulling your sweatshirt up over your head and pulling your loose bra off, leaving you completely nude under him.

“Yes,” you breathed as his hands cupped your chest, squeezing the supple flesh and moving to roll your nipples between his fingers. “Needs me to fuck her immediately?” he whispered, kissing along your collarbone to your shoulder. You clawed at his shirt, pulling it up his back as you begged him with soft pleas. Changbin obliged, sitting up to pull his shirt off.

“Binnie,” you whined, hands moving to his waistband and tugging to pull him closer. “Please, bear,” you moaned as he grinded his hard cock against your soaking cunt, wetting his sweats. “Please baby, please.” His cock twitched in his pants and he moved to grab his pack, unzipping one of the inner pockets where he kept the condoms.

He pulled one out, setting the bag back against the wall of the tent. You watched him with wide eyes as he pushed his pants and underwear down in one go, shimmying out of them with the tip of the condom wrapper in his teeth. You licked your lips, eyes drinking in his naked body hungrily as he tore open the packet and carefully rolled the latex down his length.

He didn’t need to ask if you were ready, his fingers moving to your entrance and pushing two into you with ease. He still wanted to make sure you were properly stretched before he even attempted to fill you with his thick cock. Your hips moved against his hand as he fit a third into you, pumping steadily in and out of your walls. Your back arched, moaning wantonly as he curled his fingers against your inner walls. “Binnie,” you whimpered, grabbing at his arms and tugging him.

“Please fuck me,” you breathed. “I need you, baby.”

Changbin withdrew his fingers, replacing them with the tip of his cock and pushing the head into you with a sigh. You let out a content moan as he slowly slid into you, stretching your cunt as you accommodated his girth. Once he was full inside you, he started a slow, steady pace, holding your hips in place as he rutted into you.

“Feels so good,” you gasped. “Feels so f-full.”

A groan escaped Changbin as he fucked into you more roughly, hands spreading your thighs as he held you down. Your hands grabbed at him, pulling him closer as your walls sucked him in over and over. Taking the silent plea, he repositioned, putting your legs over his shoulders as he leaned over, folding your body in half as he thrust down into you roughly.

He learned quickly that this was your favorite position. You had called it the mating press and told him you loved how it made you feel like you were at his mercy. You always complimented his strength in and out of the bedroom and it always made him feel a surge of pride.

“How’s that?” he grunted, pinning you down as he rocked into you, cock filling your cunt with each harsh thrust. “S’good. Fuck, baby!” you cursed, brows knitted together in pleasure. “So strong, Binnie. Love it when you pin me down.” A deep growl emanated from Changbin’s chest as his pace increased, slamming into you roughly, the sound of skin against skin filling the tent.

You cried out as his cock hit the spot deep in you that had your toes curling. “Fuck, right there, baby,” you gasped as Changbin continued to hit the same spot. “Right there?” he asked in a low tone, holding back a moan as you clenched around him. “Right there!” you moaned. “Fuck, yes, keep doing that!”

Changbin slammed into you harsher as your walls clamped down on his cock, an orgasm ripping through you unexpectedly as you came, coating his cock in your release as you writhed in pleasure, screaming his name repeatedly.

Changbin fucked you through your orgasm before he carefully let your legs fall back down. He stilled, kissing your face as you came down slowly. “Think you can ride me for a bit, baby?” he whispered in between kisses. You nodded eagerly, sitting up as he slipped out of you, taking your spot on his back as you hurriedly climbed over him.

He let out a chuckle at your eagerness, groaning as you lined the tip of his cock with your pussy and sank down on him, a moan escaping both of you as your walls welcomed him back in. You gave him only a second to adjust before you started moving, bouncing on his cock and making him groan, hands grabbing your hips as he helped you move.

“Fuck baby,” he groaned. “Slow down or I’m gonna cum.” You placed your hands on his chest as you rode him harder, faster with a smirk on your lips.

“That’s the idea.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[lillotte17]

The Music Room

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS‼- Do Not Read unless you have completed the Dread Wolf's Regrets quest!!!!

AN: I have not finished the game, so I don't know if this will actually be part of my canon yet, but the world is currently awful and I...needed to be making something. But as I said: I have NOT finished the game yet, so if you leave a comment (pls and thank) do NOT write anything with spoilers in it!!!

Okay, on with the show!

~

Rill finds Inquisitor Lavellan sitting at the harpsichord in the music room. All of the other rooms at the Lighthouse had seemed barren when they had first started using it as their base, and even this one had apparently been used as some sort of storage space -there was an alarming amount of cheese for some reason- but the quiet here feels different in a way that is hard to quantify. Peaceful, as opposed to desolate. The light pouring through the windows is always bright in here. Always warm. The murals on the walls were still vivid when they came. Colorful and new. The most prominent one bears the symbol of the Inquisition flanked by howling wolves.

The woman contemplating it does not look like the fearsome hero who closed a hole in the sky and stopped the southern half of the world from falling into chaos, though. She looks small. And tired. And sad.

Rill clears her throat, feeling awkward.

“So. Not trying to complain or anything, but when you asked to come here, you did say that you could help by giving us insight into Solas’ history and his way of thinking and… Well. You were pretty quiet in there while we watched those memories.”

“I know,” Aili sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. I’m just… I knew some of it. Bits of things he told me himself. Things I figured out…afterwards. And I knew there would be more. More I didn’t know. He’s thousands of years old, so I knew that the story of his life would be more than what he had told me, but…”

“It’s a lot.” Rill hums in agreement.

“Bit of an understatement,” Aili snorts. Her gaze drifts down, and she runs her fingers over the instrument in front of her. “…I didn’t even know he played.”

“So, tell me what you do know,” Rill says, casually plopping down onto a nearby crate, “It’s probably more helpful than you think.”

“I know… I know that he hates tea.”

“Right. Noted. Probably shouldn’t offer him any of Lucanis’ coffee either, then.” Rill grins, folding her arms across her chest.

“Probably not,” Aili agrees, returning the smile faintly. “He has a sweet tooth, though. He loves books. Loves learning. And teaching, too. He was always happy to share stories about places he had been, or spirits he had talked to. He paints beautifully. And he sketches, too. He doesn’t laugh very often, but when he does, it’s…”

She trails off, her face creased with grief and faint traces of longing.

“I’m sorry.”  She says again.

Rill shakes her head at the apology but gives her a curious look afterwards.

“You said that Solas was important to you; I’m guessing you didn’t mean that you were just really good friends?”

Aili shrugs.

“I thought that we were…something.” She glances around the room again, eyes landing on the mural of the slain dragon and the mourning wolf above it. “Now I’m not sure if even that was true.”

“Is that something he would lie about?” Rill wonders, her eyebrows ticking upwards, “Because that would be some valuable insight. He doesn’t strike me as the sort to use seduction as a manipulation tactic, but he seems comfortable twisting the truth about everything else, so…”

Aili sits for a moment in silence, frowning in consideration before finally shaking her he in the negative.

“It’s… No.” She fumbles briefly. “I know that given…given everything we’ve seen, it might be hard to believe, but… He has a kind heart. Truly. He wants to do the right thing. He believes in justice, and he wants things to be fair. He wants to help people when he sees them suffering. And he blames himself when he can’t. He just…comes to the wrong conclusions, sometimes, and he struggles to ask for help when he needs it. He… There would be no reason to -no point- in lying about his feelings for me. I was already his friend, and I took his advice seriously. He had my ear and my protection. He wouldn’t get anything out of it unless his intention was to be needlessly cruel, and…he’s not like that. He isn’t.”

“Then why were you doubting that you had something?”

“It’s…complicated.” Aili sighs. “It’s about time, I think. Or at least, part of it is. He feels things deeply. Passionately. Even if you can’t tell which words he’s telling you are true, you can always tell when something matters to him. And this place… Mythal is everywhere. In every mural. In every room. Statues. Paintings. Symbols. Everything is about her. For her. Even now. Even after taking Flemeth’s power and essentially killing her himself. His love for her, whatever shape or form it might have had, has colored every aspect of his life since the beginning of the world. And compared to that…”

She taps a single key on the harpsichord, letting out a high clear note.

“Mythal is the All-Mother. The Protecter. The bright and beguiling moon. And I…I am barely a candle flame.”

“You’re the Inquisitor. The Savior of the South. People still call you the ‘Herald of Andraste.’ You disbanded the Inquisition, and still managed to bring enough people together to hold back the darkspawn hordes while I fight the gods up here in the North. I think you might be selling yourself a bit short.” Rill says with a curl of her lips, trying to be kind.

“There will always be heroes, just as there will always be despots. I’m hardly unique in that respect.” Aili replies, striking another key. “A puny mortal striking back at false gods probably reminded him of his own past. His own struggles. Maybe that was it. Maybe there’s even something about me that made him think of Mythal. I don’t know. I don’t know what he saw in me. Or thought he saw. But look around. There are a few Inquisition symbols in this room, but beyond that… There is no trace of me in this place. Nothing he held onto. Nothing he felt was worth keeping.” 

Rill frowns. Fidgeting with her hands. Itching to pull out a blade to play with, but uncertain if the move would been seen as a threat.

“Sorry.” She offers after a few moments of silence. “I try not to talk to him very often, for obvious reasons. It’s still a bit creepy, if I’m being honest. Even if I did, though, I don’t think his romantic life would be something he’d be keen to tell me about.”

“It’s not your fault,” Aili assures her with a smile that does not reach her eyes, “He wasn’t keen to tell me either.”

“The Fade’s a funny place, though,” Rill says, gesturing at their surroundings, “I’m not always sure which bits of the things we’ve found here are from Solas, and which things we brought along ourselves. Lucanis found a book he used to read as a kid. Harding says she can smell her mom’s cooking sometimes. Neve said she can hear the sea when she wakes up in the mornings. Things like that, you know?”

The Inquisitor nods.

“Not surprising, given the nature of this place and the person who built it.” Aili says. “This was a refuge. For spirits and slaves fleeing tyranny. And for Solas himself, too. It wants to be welcoming. It wants you to feel safe.”

“It was different when we got here, though.” Rill tells her. “Bit empty. Bit sad. Lonely, almost.”

“Sounds like Solas,” Aili sighs, something close to exasperated fondness.

“This room though…” Rill sits up straighter, turning her head to glance at the sunlight painting patterns on the already painted walls. “It was always like this. It may be small and tucked away, but it’s honestly one of my favorite places in the Lighthouse. It’s always a little warmer in here. The sun’s always shining through the windows. The quiet in here feels like…comfort. Like home.”

“I feel like you’re trying to lead me somewhere, but I’m not sure where it is,” Aili chuckles.

“Well, you said it yourself, didn’t you?” Rill grins back at her, “This is the only room with Inquisition symbols in it.”

Aili blinks. Makes a face.

“There are also murals of Mythal in here. Because she’s everywhere.”

It is Rill’s turn to sigh.

“Maybe she is. Maybe he couldn’t escape from her. Maybe he never will. What she did. What she made him do. What was done to her. But the library with all his memories of her is big and dark and gloomy. And the statues of her are stiff and aloof and cold. And the little room upstairs he shoved a cot into to sleep is…just depressing, really.”

 She catches the older woman’s gaze. Holds it.

“It’s called the Lighthouse, but the beacon at the top isn’t where the light is. It’s not in some huge memorial room dedicated to Mythal. It’s here. There’s a chair with your seal on it, almost waiting for you to sit and watch him play. There’s the paintings on the walls. There’s… Look, when did this become me telling you about the Dread Wolf’s heart?”

“I have no idea,” Aili laughs in earnest this time.

“Really though, this is a good room. I like to sit and read by the windows in here sometimes. The light in here always makes be think of summer afternoons. The air has a sweetness to it, too. Something flowery. Heather, maybe. Or Lavender.”

Aili starts, her eyes going wide.

“What’s wrong?” Rill asks.

“You said it smells like lavender in here?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“It’s…the soap I use. For my hair. I always have.”

“Well, there you have it!” Rill grins in triumph. “He kept your memory here. Away from his regrets. Somewhere bright and happy. Well…as happy as Solas gets, anyway. Not too bad for a candle flame, eh?”

Aili laughs again.

“Thank you, Rook.”

[xx0acidicorchid0xx]

some notes on wolverines (mustelidae) and Logan

cause new hyperfixation (its been goin on since a few weeks ago). gonna preface this by saying i have only seen the first x-men movie, and whatever else i found on tiktok n tumblr through my hyperfixation hoarding, so if anything is wrong or actually canon (or not canon) I'm sorry

notes under cut:

wolverines, while technically weasels, theyre the largest terrestrial weasel, and can weigh 26-50lbs.

Logan, is 5'3, but weighs at least 300lbs due to the admantium skeleton (195lbs without, meaning this small furry smelly man is just pure bulk)

wolverines are muscular n stocky and have thick fur (also waterproof n oily to prevent frost n such in them harsh canadian forests), are native to canada but can be found in similar environments, and are described as lil balls of violence and are extremely territorial around their food, family, and themselves (only out of necessity in order to survive the winter wastelands they live in). they also lack social skills and pack behavior like wolves

Logan, hairy beefy man, born in canada, described as an asshole, is violent n aggressive, but also severely traumatized. now with the fur, wolverines are nicknamed skunkcats because of how much they reek (they also mark whatever carcass they stole or found so nothing else can take it from em or where they buried it). if Logan (who canonically reeks) has waterproof n oily fur, it must be real difficult getting him to shower (not to mention he doesnt like getting wet) and also the water will not be able to get to his fucking skin because hes built to survive canadian woods.

wolverines are also commonly found in trees, as they use the height to locate prey and eventually pounce onto said prey

from some of the panel screenshots ive seen, Logan isnt unfamiliar with climbing onto trees

wolverines have been known to take on animals 3x their size, such as fuckin Moose, polar bears, elk n caribou, etc etc (only difference here between the mustelid and Logan is that there is no known attack on a human by a wolverine).

while wolverines have semi-retractable claws, Logan's claws are fully retractable. they (both the animal and Logan) have huge paws/hands, for the animal, its to prevent sinking into the snow

along with the thick waterproof fur and stocky build, theyre latin name gulo basically means glutton, so they have to eat a fuck load in order to maintain their body temp (usually they just eat their weight or very frequent small meals, but larger stuff is common), also theyre carnivorous but will eat anything they can find or kill, usually carcasses from avalanches n such, aka opportunity eaters

i have heard that Logan eats a shit ton, especially meat, but only large meals when alone, and small meals more frequently at the mansion. with the body heat thing, it must be super hard for him post-adamantium to keep his body temp at a normal range without literally sitting in the sun all day.

despite the aggressiveness they develop in the wild, when domesticated (which ive heard/read is super easy than you would think), they become very attached to one person, who usually is the trusted handler. they exhibit very cat-like behaviors, except wolverines actually like being picked up and wearing harnesses, they also like pets (but again, the trusted handler thing). they can become calm when hearing a high pitched obnoxious voice, and can go into a kind of trance when their gums are rubbed.

not sure about the cat behaviors n harnesses n other shit for Logan, but with the voice thing: Wade. thats all i really need to say about that

wolverines are naturally polygamous, but do come back to the female every so often to help raise the kits. theres a video of a wolverine male leaving out a moose leg near a female's den so she can have something for the kits to eat

this man gets passed around the x-men mansion like coleslaw at a southern get together dinner, aint no way hes monogamous. he does worry about the women he basically adopted and raised (rogue, laura, jubilee i think, yukio?,, i cant name any others but theres several)

wolverines also have the ability to smell a frozen carcass from over a mile away (and lemme tell ya, unless you have an excellent sense of smell, frozen anything doesnt have a smell except sharp)

this man can canonically smell emotions, and be able to tell the difference between Mystique and Storm just from smell Alone.

wolverines are very vocal, usually this kinda snarl/snort/growl/mumbling/chuff sound

not sure about comic Wolvie, but Hugh Jackman (and Logan, obviously) does snort n growl n roar n other shit like that

wolverines' mating rituals often include fighting multiple times, and mate Only after the female is confident in the male's fighting (males who return several times are more likely to mate than males who only fight once or twice) and that the female doesnt submit too easily. this is so the female and male can ensure the produced kits are strong enough to survive

self explanatory, minus the producing kits (that i know of)

also fun lil fact, wolverines' back molars are rotated at a 90 degree angle, so they can gnaw through bone easier (supposedly this is a common trait for mustelids)

not sure about sideways molars, but Logan does canonically have longer, more animalistic canines

most of my notes and how i worded some stuff is taken from wolverine expert Steve Kroschel, and tumblr user @/icarusredwings, as they have Amazing notes and headcanons on wolverines and Logan

[yandere-fics]

♡ Selene Finds Lamb Darling Injured In The Forest ♡

Selene had to be honest, she didn't like hybrids, for the simple fact they got injured so often, it hurt her eyes to look at them knowing that they were likely not going to live a long safe life, most wound up with some sort of injury by adulthood just because they had triggered a wolves instincts and gotten bit and sure the wolf always managed to come back to their senses, realizing they were biting a person and not an animal like they thought but that still left the hybrid injured, most of those unfortunates went to the city afterwards, hiding themselves away, growing an intense fear of werewolves and forests. The gods were truly cruel to give her, the biggest and scariest of the werewolves, who lived surrounded by forest for miles, a poor injured lamb hybrid for a darling. Her first instinct when she saw you was to tear your attackers to shreds but they were no where to be seen when she found you slumped against a tree, likely they'd attacked you outside her territory and had backed off when they saw you going into her territory, not wanting to incur her wrath, sadly even if she did know where your attacker was, she had much more pressing matters like calling the temple to her mate to her house to treat your leg which looked mangled beyond repair, likely would need to be amputated though she didn't say that to you as she carried you to her house, trembling against her, you were already so frightened and she didn't want to make it any worse by mentioning your leg even though it scared her somewhat but you could get gravely ill or infected from it and they would not be able to save you, she'd have to kill every remaining god if they gave her her mate just for you to die in her house.

You sat incredibly still even as the mangled limb was hacked off, likely scared that now you had five werewolves around you and were trapped in a house that reeked of werewolf, with no way to escape for miles if things got violent, not that you could escape easily missing a leg now. Selene didn't know how to approach you for the first days you were in her house, giving you the meds that the temple gave her, often having to force them in your mouth with a kiss to get you to take them, though you did learn just to take them on your own after she kissed you a couple times to force it to happen. You never allowed her to hold you, even at night your instincts were to push the werewolf away, your fear was completely overwriting the mating bond that should have made you relax and curl up in her arms. It wasn't like she could do anything to make you fear her less other than weight though, she knew her voice was deep and growly, terrifying to you and the usual werewolf courting methods wouldn't work because you would likely faint if she brought home a deer for you so she just had to grit her teeth and bear knowing her mate hated her. Even though she knew you were scared it didn't mean she was going to let you go, she still held you every chance she could even though she could feel you stiffen in her arms, still marked you even though you let out a bleat in response, trying to push her away, still made you kiss her before bedtime, sometimes trying to grab your arm so you could feel how hard she was for you, so you might start to realize you were her mate, not her food. She even hunted down the bastard who attacked you and killed them in front of you to show she didn't approve of their actions. Didn't help in the slightest though.

Leading to you trying to escape her house just a couple months after she finally got you, her finding you crawling on the ground outside, unable to get far because of the missing leg situation, it was then she had to put her foot down.

"Lamb, I've done my best to be forgiving for your attempts to push me away, I believe it's your turn to forgive me for scaring you." You said nothing to her, you rarely spoke but your ears were folded down like you were submitting to her words which she grinned at. "Good, then it's time I mate you tonight."

Your head darted up in alarm but when you saw her smile you knew she wasn't going to take no for an answer and just rolled over so you could present for her. She just hoped after this you'd be a bit less scared of her.

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Imagine Ji teaching kitten how to make a proper nest

this has been sitting in my ask box for a while.... and i'm glad i held onto it because..... me??? writing for a pair that isn't chris x his girl???? unheard of. but not impossible.

Pairing: Werewolf!Minho x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series, but you probably don’t really need to read any other instalments to understand/enjoy this one). | Word Count: ~2k | Themes & Warnings: Supernatural/Fantasy AU · Smut · Fluff · Established Relationship · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but reader is presumed to be on birth control] · breeding kink · creampie

minors do not interact.

For someone with a condition like his, Minho was a very logical man. Sure, he had his moments of randomness and silliness, but in the grand scheme of things, your boyfriend was level headed, rational, and he’d hardly ever let his wolf instincts interfere with his human thoughts.

Which was why you hadn’t expected something as seemingly innocuous as a pile of clothes on his bed to get him like this.

Not like you were going to complain, though. Not when the feel of his thickness filling you up time and time again was this good. Not when the way he had you on your knees, bent over like a dog, deliciously ramming into you, was this addictive.

“Minho…” You weren’t really sure what you were going to tell him, you just whined when you started to feel his lips on your shoulder, when he started to kiss and nibble your skin.

“Hm?” His deep strokes had you seeing stars, and the feel of him hitting the most sensitive areas within your walls was steadily fogging up your brain.

You swallowed, blindly reaching for one of the cushions that surrounded you, holding it tightly to somehow keep yourself grounded to reality. “Love–Love you”.

“Love you, too… Missed you, kitten. So much”, his pace increased, his panting grew a bit louder next to your ear, sending shivers down your spine, feeding that pool of arousal in your belly that was just ready to spill over at any moment now.

You’d missed him, too, of course. Every week, you looked forward to the weekend simply because you’ll be able to see him. You were tired of the distance, but you supposed it was something you’d had to bear for a while.

“Need to–Shit, fuck…” Minho nuzzled your shoulder, reattaching his lips to the skin there, grunting when you started to push back harder to match his thrusts, making him move faster in response.

Before Minho came back from work, when Jisung had come to Minho’s flat to hang out and kill time after you arrived today, you didn’t exactly expect the afternoon to take the turn it did.

‘Wait, so you’re not making a nest to fuck in? Not even during his rut?!’ Jisung looked genuinely shocked, and you had simply shrugged in response because ‘Was I supposed to? I don’t even know how’.

Admittedly, you did know about nests, but only as a concept. Throughout your friendship, Jisung had made sure to give you every single detail when it came to omega reproduction–because why would you keep anything private when you could word vomit at any given time, about any given topic, right?–and just omega behaviours in general.

Making a nest was, essentially, creating a safe, soft, warm space for yourself. Although it could be done just to be comfortable while trying to wind down, it was most commonly done with reproduction in mind, meaning, to be shared between wolves. So, upon finding out you’d never done one yourself, Jisung decided to take matters into his own hands.

‘See, you’ve got to pick up items that make you feel safe. Soft items, preferably. Most commonly you’d use blankets, throws, cushions, but you could also add plushies, clothes… If you’ve got a partner, it’s usually preferable to use items that smell like them. And it’s always a nice touch to add items that smell like you, so your partner can also feel comforted by your nest’, Jisung encouraged you to try it, right then and there.

He suggested doing it on Minho’s bed, since that was his sleeping space, and a place you both spent a lot of time together in. Minho’s sleeping clothes, his fluffy blankets, the throw and cushions from the sofa out in the living room, the bathrobe you’d used not too long ago, the pyjamas you kept in his closet, the pillows that were already on his bed… Jisung and you put these items together, creating this fluffy mess on his bed that certainly looked like a nest.

‘See? So you can do one of two things… If you’re doing it on your own, you can cover yourself as much as you can, essentially making yourself a warm little cocoon… But if you’re gonna share it, then you just lay in the middle. I, uh… I know I’m incredibly biassed, but I think this is probably one of the most romantic places to have sex in’, he said it with a completely straight face, so you really believed him.

Jisung did comment on how Minho could potentially react to a nest, considering it was something he hadn’t experienced in a romantic setting. ‘You know I build nests often when I’m anxious, so he sometimes joins me to help me calm down, but it’s all platonic… A nest built by you… I’m curious as to how it’d make him feel. If it makes him feel anything at all’.

That piqued your interest.

Exploring Minho’s animal instincts was always something you enjoyed doing. It made you curious, mostly because he hardly had any, and the ones he did have he couldn’t even understand very well.

As if on cue, the obnoxious beeps of the front door resonated in the flat. You heard it even in the bedroom, where you had been standing next to your nest with Jisung, just giggling and joking about it.

After Minho went into the flat, and the customary Tired Groan left his mouth, you heard his languid steps as he made his way to the bedroom. “Who gave you two stray cats permission to come into my home?”

His perfectly crafted tone of annoyance held no real meaning to it. You knew it, he knew it, and even Jisung knew it. So you just smiled and answered. “With yours, dummy. You wouldn’t have given us the code otherwise”.

As soon as he was at the door, his poised scowl turned into a look of surprise when his eyebrows rose high on his forehead. His eyes jumped from the nest on the bed, to you, to Jisung, and back to the nest. “Are you feeling well, Jisung?”

Of course. Based on Jisung’s earlier explanation, it made sense that your boyfriend had reached the conclusion that this was Jisung’s nest. That he was probably anxious and built it because of it.

“Yeap. I’m doing great. I was just showing our dear kitten how to build herself a nest”, Jisung usually gave the impression to people that he was dumb and silly. But in reality, he was very smart. And at that moment, in just a few seconds, he was able to choose the most suitable words to get his point across.

This wasn’t his nest.

It was yours.

Built by you with your own two hands.

“Huh…” Minho stared at the bed, and you could’ve sworn the bit of skin you could see under the collar of his shirt was slowly growing redder the longer he stood there.

You cleared your throat to get his attention, and you smiled brightly at him when his head snapped back in your direction. “No kiss?”

Minho blinked a bit, but then he was scoffing. He made his way towards you so he could cup your cheeks and pull you in for a kiss. You hadn’t seen him in a whole week, and that was way too long, in your humble opinion, so that kiss was more than necessary.

The dramatic sigh next to you made you break the kiss, and you turned to see a pouty Jisung staring at you two.

“No kiss for me?”

Of course. This was Jisung’s thing. He took any opportunity he could to beg for kisses.

Your boyfriend simply sighed, just as dramatically as Jisung had, and he quickly moved to stand in front of Jisung. Cradling the back of his head, Minho pulled Jisung to him, planting his lips on one of Jisung’s round cheeks to press a loud, moist kiss on his skin.

“Ew, why is it wet! Stop!”

They jostled for a bit, all while Minho chuckled, until he finally pulled away from Jisung and ruffled his hair. “Didn’t you want a kiss? There’s your fucking kiss”.

“A peck was enough, jeez”, Jisung wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, fake gagging.

The three of you broke into laughs and giggles for a bit, bantering back and forth on the ‘essential omega needs’ Jisung had, until Minho excused himself to go take a shower, leaving you and Jisung back on your own in his room.

“Alright, listen to me, dear kitten”, Jisung held you by the shoulders, trying to get your undivided attention. “Get as scantily clothed as possible, or, even better, get naked, lay in the centre of that nest, and wait for your boyfriend to come out of the shower. You can thank me in the morning”.

“Do you really think something like this would do anything to Minho? You know how he is, he doesn’t have these alpha urges”.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see”, Jisung cradled your face in his hands, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead before he wished you good night. 

He knocked on the bathroom door on his way out, wishing Minho good night as well, then he was gone.

So you did just as he told you.

You figured that putting one of Minho’s t-shirts on and nothing else would do the trick, and it certainly did, if the look Minho gave you once he was out of the shower was anything to go by.

Minho really wasn’t that in touch with his animal needs, not unless he was close to his rut or maybe during a full moon night, but it seemed like the sight of you, dressed in nothing but his clothes and laying on your comfy little nest did things to him.

Before you knew it you were fully naked, with his head between your legs and his fingers in your cunt, giving you a mind-numbing orgasm only to flip you on your stomach and push his cock within your walls almost immediately after.

That was how you ended up here, relishing his sounds of pleasure in your ear, and the feel of him fucking you open. He was mumbling, things you couldn’t quite make out, not when his fingers found their way between your legs to rub tight circles on your clit.

“C’mon, baby…” Minho groaned, snapping his hips harder. “Give it to me, kitten, love… Want to–Fuck…”

“You–you want what, baby?” You kept meeting his thrusts, spurring him on. You were certainly almost over the edge, but you needed just a bit more… A bit more of him. “Want to stuff me full? Want that, too. Want your–your pups, baby…”

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, shit, I’ll give them to you, kitten. All of them… Make sure I, fuck, I pump you full–”

Those were the last coherent words your boyfriend told you before you felt his warmth fill you up, before his name left your mouth in a breathless moan as your own orgasm raked through your body. He kept fucking your through it all, until you whined in oversensitivity.

When Minho peeled himself away from your back, your body slumped, and the sudden lack of his warmth almost gave you whiplash.

In an instant, his hands were on your buttocks, spreading you open just as his cum started to trickle out of your centre, and when you turned your head a little you almost giggled at the sight of him.

His chest was flushed, his cheeks as well, and he was staring at your core so intently it was almost like you could see and feel the phantom of his tail wagging in excitement. 

Before you could comment on it, he was leaning down and pressing a lingering kiss on one of your buttcheeks. “Stay right here, kitten”.

Minho left the comfort of your nest and made his way out of his room. He wasn’t gone for long, only a minute or two before he was back with a soaked washcloth to clean you up.

When he was done, he left the soiled fabric on his bedside table and dropped on his back next to you, staring at the ceiling. You just looked at him, resisting the urge to bring your fingers to his face so you could trace his features. Resisting only because he seemed to be deep in thought and you didn’t want to disturb him.

Eventually, he turned to his side, propping his head on his hand and looking at you. “That was…certainly something”.

You chuckled. “It was”.

“Kitten…” Minho scooted closer to you, draping an arm over your waist. “Do I…have a breeding kink?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. Loudly. “Oh, babe. Don’t all alphas do?”

“But I didn’t, though!” Minho was pouting and everything, which only prolonged your chuckles. “Not when I’m not, you know, going through my rut. But seeing you here, like this… Shit. It’s essentially just a pile of clothes and blankets and cushions, but I think it’s altering my brain chemistry for real”.

“Mmm…” You pushed on his chest a bit so he could be on his back again and you could lay on top of him. Minho wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you close as you pressed a kiss on his lips. “It’s okay, baby. I can always build more nests so you can enjoy coming inside me. I enjoy it”.

“Eager, are we? What am I gonna do with you, kitten?” Minho chuckled, pressing quick pecks on your lips, waking the butterflies in your stomach, as if they hadn’t been wreaking havoc inside you a handful of minutes ago.

“Hopefully fuck me again, if I can have a say in what you decide to do”.

You clearly didn’t need to say anything else, just like he didn’t. The mischievous smile on his lips told you all you needed to know. 

It was definitely going to be a fun night. All thanks to that pile of miscellaneous pieces of fabric.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

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[spacebarbarianweird]

How dare you?!

Synopsis: years after Tav's death, Astarion manages to become mortal again. But sometimes good things happen too late. It was definetely inspired by this quote from "The Last Unicorn"

"I am here now," she said at last. Molly laughed with her lips flat. "And what good is it to me that you're here now? Where where you twenty years ago, ten years ago? How dare you, how dare you come to me now, when I am this?" With a flap of her hand she summed herself up: barren face, desert eyes, and yellowing heart. "I wish you had never come. Why did you come now?" The tears began to slide down the sides of her nose.

Tags: angst Since Tav is already dead, I decided to make them gender neutral (hope I didn't mess up the grammar). Astarion mentions them (of course) all the time. Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Drinking other people's blood feels like an utter betrayal.

 The outlaw lunges at Astarion, a glinting knife in hand. The vampire responds with a sinister grin, savoring how terror swiftly supplants the bandit's initial rage.

"Vampire! Kill him, you idiots!"

But the bandit's final words dissolve into a chilling shriek as Astarion plunges his fangs into the man's throat, drawing a deep draught of human blood. It's a flavor reminiscent of cheap alcohol, perhaps a testament to the bandit's fondness for rum. The pungent odor and the taste of his sweat turn Astarion's stomach.

However, as the blood courses through the vampire's veins, its transformative power takes hold. The hunger begins to recede, replaced by a surge of strength. His senses sharpen, and Astarion can practically savor the impending wave of fear from the group of thugs at the cave entrance.

"Please," the man stammers weakly, his voice trembling and feeble with each passing moment, "Don't kill me —"

 Astarion releases the wounded thug, and the man collapses to the cave floor. The vampire lowers himself in front of the man, idly toying with a dagger, his tongue touching the tips of the fangs.

"Tell your henchmen to flee," he purred. "Run, and don't ever dare to glance back."

Astarion straightens his posture and gazes toward the two thugs.

Dumb idiots, he thinks. They could quickly kill him. But they are so afraid of the undead creature they won't dare.

Astarion wipes his mouth as the wounded outlaw staggers away in retreat. Deep down, Astarion wants to vomit. He thinks he should return to sating the thirst with animal blood—bears, wolves, boars—anything but sentient beings. 

 He can't drink blood, which doesn't belong to Tav. Tav allowed him to feed on them for years. Whose blood tasted like heaven, whose touches were so sweet and caring. Years after they are gone, Astarion can still feel their gentle caress.

And the coldness of their body when life left it.

He cried, he begged, he cursed. It couldn't have been so soon, not like that. They were supposed to live at least a few decades more together. Astarion remembers the nights on the grave when he contemplated if he should stay there till sunrise and turn into ashes.

He didn't stay because he promised to keep living. 

Living, he chuckles. It's not life. He is undead. He died many years ago at the age of thirty-nine. His heart doesn't beat. His skin is cold and pale. His eyes are red, and all the food tastes like paper and vinegar. 

Tav believed there was a cure for vampirism. They thought Astarion's dead heart could beat again. Astarion didn't care. He was happy with his lover by his side. Living with them, sleeping, cuddling, having sex, drinking their blood. Talking, holding hands, reading books, helping people, fighting monsters. Astarion never cared what to do – if it involved Tav, he didn't need to be asked twice. He didn't need to be asked, but they never crossed boundaries, always making sure he was all right with their plans.

 Can I kiss you? Can I hug you? Can I touch your pointy ears? Do you want to go and help these people? Can I help you with your wounds? What do you mean, "no"? Listen, I am not looking at you bleeding and suffering – sit!

 Their voice is so real as they were still there, with him. He hates concentrating on these memories because he hears the sound of a broken spine when he does. And sees the loving eyes gliding over his face.

 Astarion will never forget the moment when Tav's heart stopped beating. 

Astarion's crimson eyes dart around, attempting to focus on the present moment, a challenge for a creature like him. He's aware that making friends or seeking a new lover is a distant dream, a notion that feels like blasphemy. There's no home, no sanctuary, only a nomadic existence along the nocturnal roads, finding refuge in caves and abandoned houses to evade the relentless sunlight.

As he ventures deeper into the cave, he stumbles upon the object of his quest—a chained older man in a wizard's robe.

"And who in hells are you?" the man inquires.

"I've been hired to save you from the thugs, and I expect a generous reward for my troubles," Astarion grins as he unlocks the handcuffs.

The wizard, now unshackled, examines Astarion curiously. "Are you a vampire? Gods, it's very unusual for your kind to play a hero."

"I am," Astarion responds. "And I don't."

The wizard muses, "I recognize good people when I see them. Good elf vampires, I suppose, in your case. Quite peculiar. How long have you been like this?"

Astarion shrugs. "A few centuries. Hurry up, old man. It's sunrise soon."

The wizard chuckles. "Old man? I'm only sixty, my friend. Let's make haste; my home isn't far from here."

"May I ask you some questions?" he inquires. "I've never had the opportunity to converse with someone of your kind."

"I'll answer if I find the questions agreeable," Astarion replies

Their conversation flows easily, delving into topics like feeding the transformation into vampirism. Engaging with a sentient being who listens is refreshing, and Astarion relishes the opportunity to share his experiences.

"You remind me of my friend, Gale of Waterdeep," Astarion finally says, looking at the horizon getting pink.

 "You did know Gale of Waterdeep?"

 Astarion nods. "I wonder where he is right now."

"He died twenty years ago, Astarion. Lived a very long life for a human," the wizard replies, his words sending a shiver down Astarion's spine. Another person he knows is gone. It's been so many years that he's lost count.

The two continue the journey in silence, eventually arriving at the wizard's house. The wizard ushers him inside.

"What are you waiting for? It's almost sunrise," he remarks.

Astarion hesitates for a moment. "I can't enter unless you invite me."

The wizard chuckles. "Oh, of course, I forgot. Come in. You are very welcome to stay until dark. Wait for me here. I will return soon."

Astarion steps over the threshold and watches as the first rays of sunlight wash over the fields and the surrounding forest, feeling a strange mix of longing and melancholy as he observes the world he can never fully embrace.

When Tav was alive, he often urged them to venture outside on such mornings. They would stand there, basking in the warm embrace of sunlight. Astarion couldn't tear his gaze away from Tav. After a few minutes, his lover would return inside, and Astarion would gently press his palms to their radiant skin, yearning to feel the sun's warmth that had touched them.

The ache is still there. Astarion misses Tav profoundly, a pain that persists no matter how many years have passed or how many more will come. They were the first and only person he truly loved. They were the first and only person who loved him.

He remembers how Tav would cup his face with their hands. "What are you looking at?" he sometimes would ask, and Tav would laugh in response. "I wonder what eye color you had. Blue? No, I don't think so. Hazel? Doubt. I know! They were green. They were green like a pair of emeralds." Then, Tav would kiss his forehead. "But I guess we will never know."

 "Astarion, I want to reward you for saving me," the wizard declares as he returns to the dining room, holding a black magic scroll. "You sound like a good person, a really good person..."

"Just pay me, and we're even. I enjoyed talking to you."

The wizard, however, opened a black scroll and began reciting an incantation. Before Astarion can react, a dark wave crashes over him, hurling him to the floor and pinning him to the wooden boards.

"I'm sorry," the wizard says, his voice muffled as if behind a thick wall. "I fear this might be painful."

"What in hell have you done to me?!" Astarion attempts to shout, but an invisible grip tightens around his throat, choking the words.

His body withers and wraps. Astarion wants to scream, but his mouth stays shut. His body doesn't belong to him in this painful moment. It hurts. It hurts the same way centuries ago when he was lying in his coffin six feet deep under the ground. 

The stomach turns inside out, and Astarion vomits the thug's blood he drank earlier. The lungs are rupturing, causing pain in the rib cage. 

Then the skin starts burning. He scratches it with his nails as if trying to flay himself. He feels how his bones break and fuse. Or is it just his imagination? By this time, he can't say.

 He was through so much torment and pain during the centuries of enslavement. He thought it couldn't be worse.

It absolutely could.

Astarion presses his hands to the chest. The dead heart weighs like a tombstone. He wants to rip it out. 

Thump

The first heartbeat crashes through Astarion like a hammer blow in the Adamantine Forge, resounding loudly and painfully. 

Astarion finds himself on his knees, utterly shocked. The wizard sits at the table, regarding him with a condescending gaze.

It's then that Astarion notices someone else in the room. He springs to his feet, prepared to confront this stranger, but the wizard laughs.

"It's just your reflection, my friend," the wizard says. "I think you've long forgotten how you look, hmm?"

Astarion stands upright and shifts his gaze to the mirror. There, he sees a young, silver-haired elf staring back at him.

"Shocked, aren't you?" the wizard chuckles.

Astarion approaches the mirror, studying the stranger. Silver curls, the attire of an adventurer, and scars from a vampire's bite on the left side of his neck. But it's the eyes that captivate him—the eyes are emerald green.

Just like Tav said.

He shifts his attention to his hands, noting that the skin is no longer pale. The feeling of a beating heart and an empty stomach churn within him. The fangs are gone, replaced by regular teeth.

"Congratulations, my friend," the wizard declares. "You are no longer a vampire. I wasn't entirely certain if the scroll would work, but here we are. You are mortal again. It's a small price for saving me."

Astarion's legs give way, and he collapses to the wooden floor again, tears streaming down his face, a maelstrom of emotions threatening to consume him.

"Where were you?!" he yells at the top of his lungs. "Where were you twenty years ago? Where were you thirty years ago? Where were you when I had hope?!" Astarion jumps on his feet and clutches the wizard's robe, making the old man stand as well. "How dare you, how dare you resurrect me now?!"

 "I- I reversed your curse," the wizard stumbles, scared of the young elf.

 "You reversed," Astarion laughs bitterly. "Of course you did! I wish I never agreed on rescuing you."

 "But you are alive! You are a living creature, not an undead monster-"

"And what am I supposed to do?" Astarion's laughter takes on a manic tone. "Mortality—you can't even imagine how I dreamt of it. How Tav dreamt of it. But... they are gone," he sniffs. "I buried them with these hands. Where were you... Where were you when Tav was alive?"

The wizard, still taken aback, steps back, fearing another outburst.

"Then—then live. Enjoy your new life," the wizard stammers.

"I don't know how! I don't know how to live! You, cursed old man, what have you done?"

"Get out," the wizard mutters. "Get out, ungrateful bastard."

Astarion makes a short, bitter laugh. He feels lightheaded and dizzy. His chest is too cramped for the newly awakened heart, his skin burns, and the blood races through his veins too fast.

Stumbling like a drunkard, Astarion exits the house. The sunlight feels like the soft touch of cat fur on his fingertips. 

Squinting, he gazes up at the sun, tears streaming down his face, and he doesn't bother to wipe them away.

Astarion's heart was beating fast, and he had no idea what to do.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

I (beg) ask if you can write anything Fierce Deity related. I don't want anything else, just that you write for my boy. (Pls us FD simps are starving).

Ah believe me I know y’all are dehydrated beyond the word’s meaning. I know the struggle (I really do) So I hope I do your boy (man) ((celestial being?)) justice!

(fir post writing: wow this is a LOT of context y’all don’t want or need, but my hands hurt so… part 2?)

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Immortality is a lonely existence. There are few beings that obtain an average life expectancy to that of a god. There are even fewer again who have immortality. Proper immortality. Not the poor results of a fae deal or some curse to age and wither without death. No. Proper immortality, exempt of aging past maturity and death herself.

That made his current predicament worse. Much, much worse than being stuck in a wooden mask.

You see, Gods and the immortal beings alike are rather fickle beings. They do glorious things to entertain or punish the mortals to have their names etched into stone and uttered in myth through centuries. They only wish to exist in temples of incense and candlelight, where the people there would do anything for even the cast of an eye.

Fierce had always thought those gods were the worst. All temples would crack. All names would be forgotten. All clay tablets and pots would be broken, ironically even by their proclaimed heroes. But that’s getting ahead of us. He was worshipped only in the grounds he was made for. It didn’t matter the land, for blood soaks into soil the same no matter what. It didn’t matter the men, the corpses were plentiful and he hardly discriminates. It didn’t even matter who won, because there are no winners in war.

He was made to fight, and he was made to kill. And so he did. His name rang throughout time between soldiers and emperors alike. Both tried to gain his favour. Occasionally there would be a temple, occasionally there’d be some mortal claiming to bear his blood, occasionally he’d care.

Regardless, it all came to the same ending. The men would die, the temples would crack and his name would fade into obscurity again.

It was supposed to.

But it seemed the others didn’t like that he was beating them at a game he didn’t want to win.

‘Cruel’ they called him, ‘Violent’ ‘Inhumane’ ‘Rabid’ ‘Irate’ ‘Improper’

And so, they condemned him. And he was forever no more.

Eras passed.

Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years… And truly, he was nothing.

Just as they promised.

Some relic like their old tales, except he could not crack and wither.

He was lonely, perhaps just as much as before in hindsight. The fickle attention he did have was only worth something if he willed it.

At some point, He was awoken again. There were hands on his cheeks, shaky and blood covered. And there was light. The person who had called upon his spirit was not in good shape, blood spilling from their weak body as they were chased by odd looking men. A pack of wolves set on a lamb.

He’d learn throughout the next few months of hiding you and sharing your consciousness that the people of your village had thought you to be a witch. As such, you were beaten and chased.

You were a doctor, you’d told him.

You’d just tried to cure someone.

And such began his problem.

He’d never saw the purpose of mortals. They were future bodies, to him. They’d live to die. Sure, it’s better than the alternative of there only being gods, but they never held much worth to him.

Not until you.

You are good. In every way the short comings of language can express you are good. You’d devoted your life to a thankless existence and the nature of living had caught up to you. Good things didn’t deserve that. Good people didn’t deserve to live the life you led.

He was not so cruel as to condemn you to that fate.

And so, he began to help. Once gaining a physical form, (through much trial and error) He’d do the work you couldn’t manage. Hunting, building, sewing, cooking, he’d do as much as possible. He knew what it was like to be turned back upon by everyone. But you wouldn’t be able to grow past that. Not in your short life.

He held you as you shuddered and cried. He tended to your wounds and sickness. He did and would do whatever it took to see you happy again.

He did not, however, see the consequences.

It took him far too long for his comfort to realise that you were not simply accompaniment. You consumed his waking thoughts and filled his dreams. He lived around you, your wants and your needs. He began to eat because it made you comfortable, He slept because you liked to be near him, He humanised himself because it made you happy.

He would’ve renounced his title as a god to make your life perfect, or as close to as it could be.

But He could not.

He could not simply marry you and go about your lives knowing you had one another. He could not have you to hold forever. He could not always love you in sickness and health no matter how much he tried. Because at the end of the day, it’s until death do you part.

Or… do you?

(part 2? perhaps? maybe? perchance?)

[totally-not-your-babe]

I saw someone do this thing on TikTok where they asked ai what animals their favourite characters would be and I decided to do it between two geopolitics topics and my human and civil rights essay.

Hunter - wolf

"Hunter is the leader of the Bad Batch, with a keen sense of strategy and leadership. If he were an animal, he might be like a wolf. Wolves are known for their strong leadership within packs, their strategic hunting skills, and their loyalty to their group, much like Hunter's role within the Bad Batch."

Tech - fox

"Tech from the Bad Batch is highly intelligent, analytical, and has an affinity for technology. If he were an animal, he might be most like a fox. Foxes are known for their cunning intelligence and adaptability, which aligns well with Tech's characteristics."

Wrecker - bear

"Wrecker is strong, loyal, and has a bit of a playful side. If he were an animal, he might be like a bear. Bears are powerful, protective, and can also be playful and affectionate, much like Wrecker's personality."

Crosshair - hawk

"Given Crosshair's sharpshooting skills, precision, and sometimes solitary nature, he might be comparable to a hawk or an eagle. These birds of prey are known for their keen eyesight, accuracy in hunting, and their ability to operate effectively on their own."

Echo - chameleon

"Echo is resourceful, adaptable, and has undergone significant transformation. If he were an animal, he might be like a chameleon. Chameleons are known for their ability to adapt to different environments, their agility, and their unique ability to change their appearance, much like Echo's evolution throughout the series."

Omega - dolphin

"Omega is compassionate, curious, and has a strong connection to the members of the Bad Batch. If she were an animal, she might be like a dolphin. Dolphins are known for their intelligence, playful nature, and their strong bonds within social groups, which reflects Omega's qualities and her close relationship with the Bad Batch."

The chameleon one surprised me, but I mean if I think about it.

What do you think?

(Please don't come after me for using ai, I never use it for writing or anything. I only use it for silly things like the one above.)

[leupagus]

Half of this fic is just me looking for more excuses to put in all the cool women that the show wrote out

Still working on the next chapter for the GOT rewrite from hell, but I had to write a little about how the fuck menstruation works in Westeros (other than "oh you can get married now!" which I refuse to believe is the norm) and also to introduce the Sphinx:

The next morning, Shireen woke up to find blood on her shift and a sharp sort of twist in her stomach, as though she'd swallowed a molten pin. The blood came out easily enough, with frantic scrubbing in the basin, but the pain grew over the course of the morning.

"It's your flowering," said Maester Alleras briskly, when she went to him in a tightly-controlled panic. "How old are you?"

"Fourteen," said Shireen, realizing the date. Her nameday had passed two weeks ago.

"And what do you know of flowering?" he asked, smiling slightly at her blush. "Forgive me, but Northerners have queer ideas of teaching their children about these matters. I do not wish to presume your level of education."

"I know it can last for a week or more," Shireen said, thinking of Mother's cycles, how she would confine herself to her rooms to endure the pain in solitude and prayer. "It's very painful and disgusting, but it allows me to bear my future husband's children and therefore is a gift from the gods."

"Hmm. Well, that is what you were taught, at least," grunted the maester. He got up from his desk, rummaging through the cupboard behind him. He was a tall, skinny young man with the deep brown skin and tightly-coiled hair of a Summer Islander, and shared their fondness for brightly-colored nails: they seemed to dance along the shelves until he plucked out a jar and presented it to her with a flourish. "This will help with the pain, and stop the bleeding after this cycle. People of the North use it a great deal."

"Is it moon tea?" Shireen asked, taking it gingerly and wondering at Maester Alleras's use of the term Northerners, which sounded different from People of the North. Perhaps in the Summer Isles, everyone on Westeros was a Northerner. "Why do they use it so much here?"

"It is," he confirmed, "and as for why..." He shrugged. "I've only just arrived in Winterfell, you understand, and as you may have guessed—" this said with another smile— "I was born elsewhere. But from what I've gathered, they must be careful when they have children. The North can only feed so many."

Shireen thought of Fire & Blood, which Father had read to her as a child. The Winter Wolves had been a company of Northerners, who had answered Lord Cregan's call to fulfill the Pact of Ice and Fire with Rhaenyra Targaryen. They'd been greybeards who had knowingly marched to their deaths, for such was the custom of the North back then: at the start of each winter, the old men of each keep and castle and holdfast would choose amongst themselves who would go out into the snows. Some would return home in the spring, having endured the cold or escaped it to find their fortunes in southron lands; most would not.

"Put a thimbleful of this into whatever tea you like best," Maester Alleras continued, gesturing at the jar, his fingernails catching the light as it streamed into the rookery. "Once a day, and come back when you need more."

"Shouldn't I ask—" Shireen bit her lip.

But the maester caught her meaning; his eyes narrowed. "Shouldn't you ask your parents? Yes, I suppose you should. But they should be here to be asked, and they should have told you the truth."

"What's the truth?" Shireen asked, instead of admitting that Mother and Father had never told her anything about it. She couldn't imagine either of them even mentioning the subject. All her information had come from books, or from Mother's complaints.

"The truth is that if a cycle is painful and lasts for a week or more, that is the sign of an illness, not the will of a god. The truth is that you may well find it disgusting, but it is merely something our bodies do and should never be a source of disgust or shame to you or anyone else." He glared, though it did not seem directed at her. "And as for 'bearing your future husband's children,' the truth is that they are your children, just as much as his — indeed more so, unless he carries them about for the first nine months after their birth. But you will not be a woman grown for at least another two years, and any man who wishes you to bear children until at least that time is unworthy of your hand or your love." He sat back down, his half-dozen maester's links chiming musically. "Now run along, little princess."

Lady Sansa was just outside the door, with her brother beside her. "See, I told you she smelled funny," Rickon said triumphantly.

Shireen scowled at him. "Shut up." It was kind of him, she supposed, to have worked out that something was wrong and to wait for her outside the maester's chambers. But Rickon Stark was the sort of friend who was difficult to be grateful for.

"Yes, please do, Rickon," Lady Sansa said, pressing a businesslike kiss on the crown of Rickon's head before turning him round by the shoulders and pushing him down the corridor. Rickon protested, but went all the same, and Lady Sansa turned back to Shireen. "Moon tea?" she asked, nodding at the jar.

Shireen resisted the impulse to hide it somehow. It is merely something our bodies do and should never be a source of disgust or shame. "Yes, my lady," she said.

"Come along, then," said Lady Sansa. "I have some excellent tea from the Arbor. How does that sound?"

"Could I have a hot water-skin, too?" Shireen asked, as Lady Sansa looped her arm through hers.

"Of course. And the lemon trees in the greenhouse have given up their first fruits — we'll have lemon cakes for lunch instead of venison." She smiled and Shireen thought that even if Sansa Stark never took another husband or had children of her own, she was still all the mother that the North ever would need.

[hemipenal-system]

this thread is fucking long and the cut is in an awkward place just bear with it please

so werewolves are a stock horror villain (and the posts directly below this one are about that! go look at them) and don’t get me wrong i love werewolf horrorsmut but i want to see more of:

werewolves who just aren’t scary in any way. like sure the shift may be scary. they may look kinda scary. but they’re just people like everyone else even if they are more ruled by instinct than the average human. i think stuff like that is a nice way to explore what it means to be a person and how humanity can be a fluid category, especially when the werewolves in question are transgender/disabled/personality disorder coded.

like i want some wholesome shit about werewolves who can’t even pass as ambiguously human. they’re just very overtly werewolves: massive sharp, snarling bundles of taut muscles and sinew, 8, 9 feet tall, who are very capable of snapping and killing everything around them

but don’t. because they’re treated well and loved even though they’re not like everyone else. and it doesn’t matter that they aren’t, because they are like everyone else even if they’re not. i know that sounds a bit confusing on the face but i mean stuff like:

- “oh yeah no worries, Sharon from accounting’s a wolf too! no no we love her! remember when we went to topgolf for that company outing? they couldn’t find any clubs in her size so she outdrove us all with clubs a foot too short it was hysterical!”

- “all right you should be scheduled for this week! next two weeks are the same? no right of course not because you need moon days. yeah that’s totally fine i will get that in to HR and you should be all good!”

- “is- no it’s fine- is it ok if i stay shifted in here? the pain is less bad when i’m shifted. no i have no idea why lol. you’re sure? the shedding is ok and everything? aww sweetie i love you too!”

- “i mean, hip dysplasia is normal in wolves your age, and you had fairly active teenage years, so it happens. it’s not anything to worry about though, i’ll get you in contact with a fantastic physical therapist! no she specializes in wolf patients. she’s great at what she does, i promise. i’ll get you a month of painkillers but over-the-counter should work alright too. take these, go to therapy, and if it’s still doing that in a month come back and we can try something else.”

- “hey, baby, look at me. i know people are staring at you. you don’t need to care about them. you have just as much right to be here as they do. just ignore them.”

- “no i’m absolutely not mad at you! you can’t control that happening! no it was a full moon what the fuck were you supposed to do? look, i can replace the couch you mauled and the TV and vases you broke but i can’t replace you getting hurt because you tried to stave off the shift. we’ll go shopping for new ones together, ok? and we’ll get some cheap shit you can break for next month and a couple steaks for you to fuck up. i promise i’m not mad- hey get off me you big lug stop fucking licking me your mouth tastes like couch cushions…”

- “it’s actually so real to be worried about hurting your human partner in bed. you won’t hurt her, dude, i’ve known her for years you should be more scared of her than she is of you. they make, like, these rings. it’s like a silicone spacer- no it goes on your dick, idiot. it’s so you don’t like fuck into her cervix or whatever. supposedly those help? idk if they come in wolf sizes though.”

show me the negative stuff, too. show me:

- werewolves who muzzle themselves in cities even though it’s only a first quarter moon because they’re scared they’ll snap and hurt someone even though that fear makes them so careful around everyone they never would

- wolves who have moon trackers on their phone because they need to know when they’re going to get forced into a shift so they can get away from everyone because they don’t want to get violent but they can’t control it and the last time they were around someone she ended up in the hospital. she’s really understanding about it and they’re friends now but it doesn’t make it feel any less horrible

- wolves who get asked every single fucking time they get nice dinner, “so do you want your steak cooked, or what?” by waiters who think they’re funny but really aren’t

- werewolves who walk on eggshells in public because they know if they make any minor mistake or show any aggression whatsoever the pundits on the news will talk about “a werewolf snarled at my kid today. i mean i try to be trusting but you never know with those people. they have those fangs for a reason is all i’m saying.”

- werewolves who are scared to shift in public for the same reason as above, because they know how they’ll be perceived if they show people they’re a wolf

- werewolves who can’t find wolf doctors in their area so they keep going back to human doctors who don’t know how the fuck to treat their unique health conditions and when they complain about this they get a flippant “have you tried a veterinarian?”

- werewolves in therapy because their last relationship was with a human who sucked and it was really bad and that trauma has manifested as resource guarding and reactivity issues and it’s causing problems at work

i love this stuff. i want more. i also cannot write conclusion paragraphs to save my life so this is the end now. thanks for reading all this if you’re reading this.

😊