#cabin wolf rambles

[masochistikitty]

god i fucking love. this one oc. hes an ancient forest spirit whos fed up with all the supernatural chaos being enacted upon the non magical world, so hes working against the othet supernatural creatures. however, when the humans (the main characters) get upset at him he turns into this petty bitch like "well no, you left so until you rejoin me im gonna be like them. its not like anyone can even find the town right now" like omgggg hes so self motivated <333 when he was human he probably had a crazy addiction to something idk what (probably alc tbh)

[duskier]

Werewolf AU / fat hairy werewolf gf x poly!141 idea rambling in honor of the art by @littlebit-of-art ♡

|| okokok werewolf lore is always varied but I love the idea of like. shift at will werewolves, but they have forced shifts during the full moon where they get all primal and stuff... thinking about the 141 in the woods, in hiding from bad guys, getting cabin fever and impatient as hell. Pissed that Laswell has benched them (though understanding she has legitimate reasons why)

Soap finds you first, middle of the night. Well, you find him, actually. He was just sneaking out for a cigarette, went alone because he didn't want to share- his pack was running low. You're a tall creature when shifted, much too large to be excusably identified as a wolf. It's the full moon, so the 'you' isn't all there- moreso your hindbrain, your dumb dog of a wolf self. Of course *she* makes a beeline towards Soap after smelling him in the air, first human you'd seen in years- he thinks he's about to get mauled to death but is pleasantly surprised when he sees your tail wagging and you're nudging him to come play with you.

The rest of the squad looks at Soap like he's nuts when he comes by with you in tow, the "can we keep it?" look on his face. Ghost has half a mind to shoot you, no matter how damned cute you looked flopping over on your back, your primal way of telling the group you were friendly.

Price knows you're something strange, not a normal wolf. After some bickering between Soap and Price ("He looks cold :("..."it's a wild fucking animal, Sergeant") you're allowed to curl up on the couch in the den of the cabin, just in front of the fire. The wood of the furniture squeaks under your weight, reassuring Price you wouldn't be sneaking anywhere at night without him noticing.

...But come morning time, when you are you again- human, that is- Price is left speechless. Who was this beautiful, stark naked woman, and why was she on the couch? Where'd the wolf thing go? Poor man, fighting his urges to look you up and down over and over until he'd memorized every silky furry curve, the soft pout of your lips...

After an embarrassing wake up call, a lot of screaming and scrambling, you were sat in an oversized blanket wrapped around you and explaining who and what exactly you were to the 141. You appreciated the warm place to sleep in, so you offer them a deal- let you move in, you'll hunt for them in your wolf form. Easy enough.

What you never could have expected was how much you would become attached to the team. It starts off small, them getting used to your large wolf form- Gaz gives you a scratch behind your ear once in a while. Then it becomes so common for you to rest on him that when he sees you, he wordlessly clears his lap, a perfect resting spot for your head. Soap asks to draw you once, then it becomes a natural thing and he's a sudden canine anatomy expert in weeks, half his sketchbook filled with you- human and otherwise. Price checks in on you, worries over you and waits up every night that you're out late hunting for them. Reminds you not to push yourself, you've stocked them plenty for winter, as he wipes your bloody maw clean with a towel before bed. Ghost gets annoyed at your limp from stickers caught in your paws, but then it becomes a daily ritual for him to groom you all over, pulling out annoyances caught in your fur or paws.

...That's just when you're in your wolf form. When you're in your human form, the men are all just as sweet, if not sweeter. Price finds an old record player, teaches you to dance to the music. Revels in the feeling of pulling your soft body close, hands lovingly caressing every inch of your body as you sway in time, your pretty head resting on his chest. He becomes quickly besotted by the feeling of your arms under his hands, the silky hair covering inch of your skin making him just mad with affection and want. Soap makes even more portraits- drawings with harsh and soft lighting, never wanting you to ever hide your body in the ways you'd been taught to previously. Can't stop raining down compliments on you the entire time, as if every five minutes he's blown away once more at your beauty. Doesn't miss a single tuft of hair, a single bit of your body. Gaz who finds every way he can make you laugh because once he's heard it, once he's seen the way your laugh moves through your whole body and the way your smile lightens the room, he's like a lovesick puppy. (It becomes bad news for Soap, because nothing made you laugh quite like Gaz pranking Soap, each prank becoming more and more childish.) Ghost takes the meager rations they have- thankfully bolstered by your hunting- and makes the best warm meals you'd ever had. Makes you taste test every meal- never plated until it has your approval. Watches you with his golden brown eyes, searching for your praise.

One night, Laswell shipped them their new rations and included a bottle of bourbon, a late birthday gift for Price. 'Sorry you're still there,' a note on the bottle apologized. The team couldn't care less about being there, so focused in on you. You take turns having small shots of the liquor and end up watching the men as they excitedly share story after story with you, each wilder than the last. Price puts his big warm hand on your leg, unable to keep himself from squeezing gently. Gaz has his arm on the backrest behind you, fingers toying with your hair. Soap sits at your feet, his head on your knee, you feel his stubble against your skin whenever he speaks. It's Ghost who breaks rank first, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and telling you you're the prettiest girl he'd ever met. You blush, and he says he'd like to kiss that blush right off of you. It's slurred, it's silly, but it works, and you let him kiss you, his mask rolled up to his nose. Soap protests, then, of course, how dare he not get a kiss. You jokingly ask Gaz if he'd like one too, of course he agrees and you oblige them both, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You turn to Price, who was watching intently, eyes glittering in the firelight. "Come here, love," is all he has to say before you're crawling onto his lap and kissing him silly, the peanut buttery smell of his cigars filling your senses.

From there it's as natural as breathing to wake up in a cuddle pile, to kiss them all goodbye before going out on a hunt. For each of them to take you to bed, alone or all together or somewhere in between. They treat you like a precious thing, but never like glass- they know all too well how strong you are.

They find out even more of your capabilities when they are attacked.

Full moon, you're out hunting. Happily secure in letting your wolf side take the reins, looking for the best deer to take home for your boys when you hear a crack like a whip in the distance. You hear Soap screaming just as everything goes red for you. The primal side still in control, all it can think is that your pack was in danger. You ran faster than you ever thought possible, bulky wolf body breaking through old trees, unstoppable in your path to your mates. The men you kill in your way aren't anywhere near prepared for you, slaughtered like nothing. From your boys' perspective, you were a terrifying sight to see. Snarling and monstrous, standing on your back haunches taller than a building, soaked in blood and gore. It isn't until all enemies were silenced that you're capable of thinking anywhere clearly enough to look for your boys, make sure they were okay.

Thankfully, no one was hurt. Ignoring the mess covering you, you were sniffing and nuzzling each of them ignoring their protests in disgust, distressed whines leaving you. They weren't able to calm you that night, having to allow you to stalk a perimeter around the house all night long, daring more enemies to come. It wasn't until the next day that they found you, human form collapsed in the dirt from exhaustion. They take the time to bathe you, gently and with reverence, grateful for both your life and their own. Softening your skin with lotions and oils after, wrapping you in their nicest blankets and surrounding you in a giant cuddle pile so that when you awoke, you'd feel safe.

And you do. You can't imagine life without your boys.

[glacierclear]

Disorganized rambling lore dump for Eden (sorta for my own reference, for the purpose of categorizing thoughts!)

Exploring the concept of a werewolf who doesn't know they're a werewolf and lives in constant denial, despite all the warning signs.

D&D lore seems to revolve a lot around "rejecting" or "embracing" your lycanthropy and I thought it would be interesting to conceptualize a character that rejects it so thoroughly they don't even know they have it.

Eden Glee was the youngest sibling of a strong and resourceful family. They didn't have a lot. They lived within their means, and relied on one another. Eden was playful. Mischievous. Ventured too far, took miscalculated risks, and frequently caused trouble for their family. Eden was always an unlucky child.

They met the wolf alone one night. In an attempt to free the poor creature's leg from a trap, it attacked them, marring their face and inflicting them with lycanthropy. They managed to run home, crying and telling their family that a strange dog had bit them in the woods, unaware of its true nature.

On the night of their first transformation, their family was killed.

To them, they were the sole survivor of a vicious attack, not realizing they were the true culprit.

Wherever they went, death followed. They fled to towns. Villages. Remote settlements. Every month brought new corpses. Of course, they came to the most obvious conclusion.

With motivations unknown, the beast must have followed them, bonding on the night they had met.

So, Eden chose isolation. They ventured east, building a home for themselves in the deep forests of Cormanthor. They became self-sufficient. The further they were from people, the safer everyone would be.

Time lost structure. In the years spent hiding, months intermingled, and gaps in their cognition blurred. It no longer felt odd to lose days' worth of memories. That's just how the cycle worked when you lived alone. Surely, this is just that "cabin fever" people would talk about.

Every so often, they'd stumble upon new carnage. A desecrated animal corpse. A ripped up tree trunk. The remains of unfortunate wanderers passing through the woods. All reminders that the beast still lurked. It still followed.

And it was easy to take things as they came. To dismiss changes in their body as explainable phenomena.

Staring at the moon made them uncomfortable now. The light almost itched the blood beneath their skin. But they had always preferred the daytime, anyways. The only reason they were in this mess to begin with was because they were out past dark. It made sense to grow wary. Silver burned and stung their flesh. Mama's necklace had to be sealed away in a box. But their big brother once developed a strawberry allergy when they were young. It wasn't outside of the realm of possibility that this was a similar case. They had always preferred the look of bronze, anyways. Their family would grow wolfsbane. It made excellent poisons, and they'd pick the flowers to decorate their hair, even if it numbed their hands and tingled their scalp. But now, just the sight of it horrified them, triggering an almost guttural, vicious reaction. But...grief manifested in strange places. Perhaps the reminder was too painful, even after so long.

But, worse than anything else, they just missed the world. They missed friends and laughter and warm fires shared with those they loved. The weight they shouldered was heavy, but as long as the beast still lived, they would not risk another. God, they could not lose another.

They were beyond seeking answers. The best they could do was manage the circumstance. Ward away as many as they could. Keep people out.

Maybe there was no explanation. No reason for why this happened each and every month. That was just the nature of bad luck.

And throughout the years, that had never changed.

Eden was always an unlucky child.

[littlefreya]

Hi Freya! If you have the time, I was wondering if you had any recommendations for some August Walker fics, whether by you or another writer, it doesn’t matter to me. Most of the fics I’m finding recently make him out to be rough, animalistic, and cruel (which makes sense cause he was the villain after all lol). But they also include non-con, degradation, etc, which I’m not comfortable with. Don’t get me wrong! Stories with those elements are fine! It’s just not my cup of tea, personally. And I do like rough August, but I guess it’s more in the sense of him being rough to his enemies and being soft, sweet, and super protective of his sweet and innocent girl. Does that make sense? I’m sorry if it doesn’t, and for the rambling, to this day I still get nervous and panicky whenever I write an ask. 😅 Hope you have a great day! 🥰

Hey love, no need to be nervous about sending an ask. We are all just humans here :) 💖

I have several August stories where August is a pure softy - smut and non smut included.

List below the cut

Smut 🔥🔥🔥

Velvet Chains - Soft!August x Reader (smut. August Walker as a sex-worker, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, a depiction of bodily fluids, soft!August themes, a tinge of angst and August’s monster c… ) - For a generous fee, August Walker is yours. A man devout to pleasure, who will worship you for an entire night and make sure your first time is more than memorable. 

Whiskers and Wet Silk - August comes home to find his princess watching Shadow and Bone and simping for the General and gets a bit insecure…

A Perfect Day - August Walker x Reader (smut to heavy fluff. Mentions of oral sex performed on a woman, male masturbation, and bodily fluids.) A perfect day in rural italy with the most dangerous CIA agent on earth. 

Pink Umbrella - August x Reader (Fluff to smut, soft!August Walker, DD/LG, thigh riding, gloves fetish (it’s a thing now), dirty talk, a tint of angst and slight twist ending.) August is on a mission in beautiful Paris and had you join the ride, but while he wants you to stay safe at the hotel, you have other ideas.

Gentle Monsters - August x Reader (smut, vaginal fingering, groping, grinding, cock grabbing, virginity. SoftDom vibes. August is the big bad wolf, but he can be soft for the right woman) It’s your first date with agent Walker, and things get a little too raunchy, but you are not ready to go all the way… 

One more touch before we die August x OFC (Explicit smut, romance) Set in a cabin on the mountain, August and his woman make passionate, desperate love. Sense Challange - Touch

Bourbon and Candy August x OFC (Explicit Smut, size kink, daddy kink) After a frustrating day at work, August just wants to sit down and enjoy his princess, in any way possible.

Poison Honey - August Walker x Reader ( Passion, romance, sexual innuendo, a “thrill of the chase” if this may trigger anyone and mild alcohol use.) Everyone around you is too busy getting drunk and making out, while you are just dying for this dreadful Christmas party to be over. But just as you plan to leave, you catch the eye of a very hungry August Walker. 

Fluff 🌈🍧🧁

Kiss it Better - August Walker x OFC (3rd person POV Fluffy, sticky, gooey fluff and floof with a tint of naughty suggestion)  August takes care of his girl after she fell

Monster August Walker x OFC (Romance) They call him a monster, but he is your monster    

Eivor - August Walker x ofc (Fluff)   August Walker wore many masks and had done horrible things but never in his life he imagined he would become someone’s father.

Shelter - August x Reader (Strictly soft sticky fluff) Lazy morning cuddles with August 

Something Wicked - August Walker x Reader (Fluff) August sleeps tightly and you decide to exploit the situation. 

Angel, can you hold me? - Soft!August x ofc (Angst to fluff) Bad guys need to be held as well

No More Tears - August Walker x OFC (August’s POV, Angst) On a cold autumn night, August muses over the girl he lost.

Behind Blue Eyes - August Walker x OFC (August’s POV,  angst, bad language, mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a breakup, longing, love, heartache. August being poetic AF and August being a prick and stealing candy. ) Beaten and broken, August Walker walks the streets of an unnamed city while he is taken by sudden longing.

Some drabbles

August doesn’t like it when his princess is sad (fluff)

Soft Tender August - August x Reader (Fluff, aftercare)

August singing Sinatra to you - August x Reader (Fluff)

Watching porn with August - August x Reader (mutual masturbation)

Forever Yours - August loves his cuddly princess

[brellafaun]

TUA SWEET TOOTH AU RAMBLINGS

this is gonna be disorganized as fuck because my laptop is still broken but this is for u @alucardens because you’ve let me yap to you lol <3

the au follows the same general setup as sweet tooth- the sick happens, hybrids are born, and the world gets mega fucky. the main difference is that the brellies are the very first hybrids to be born into this world

each of the kids is a different type of hybrid. Luther is a gorilla for obvious reasons, Diego is a panther because sneaky and knives claws, Allison is a peacock for the plumage, Klaus is a crow because of scavenging and his penchant for shiny things, Five is a black footed cat because small (also lethal. they’re terrifying and i think they’re neat), Ben is a sea otter because it’s the closest to something oceanic that was still mammalian I could think of (to my knowledge all of the hybrid kids are mammals aside from Roy) and Viktor is a white tailed deer solely for the vibes of it all

in this au, Vik is kinda in the role of Gus. i think his mom would’ve fled to the woods as soon as things started going sideways and taken him with. because of this, he’s raised initially with no human or hybrid contact at all aside from her. she does her best to keep him safe from the outside world but eventually poachers find their cabin and she contracts the sick after chasing them off, leaving him alone for a hot minute. poachers eventually come back and catch him, brining him to Hargreeves.

the other kids are still raised by Reggie (unfortunately) and he essentially flaunts having a group of “tame” hybrid children to the other apocalyptic powers/warlords. i don’t think he’d go as far as the Zhangs and the wolf boys, but he’d definitely try to weaponize the kids somehow. additionally, he’d probably keep them around to research if hybrids are the key to curing the sick/understand their general physiology compared to humans

when Vik meets the others for the first time, it’s obvious how unsocialized he is. he’s generally kinda off putting to the others because he’s comparably more “wild” in mannerisms and more connected to his hybrid side than they are. he also has more sensitivities with senses as he was encouraged to use them more than the others (kitt projects her sensory processing issues onto her favs yet again)

at some point, Grace gets the kids tf away from Reggie and starts the au’s version of the Preserve, letting them actually be kids and embrace their wild sides

BEN DOESN’T DIE BECAUSE I SAID SO

at some point in the future, Viktor’s antlers come in

okay yeah that was fairly incoherent but if anyone wants me to come up with an actual plot and write this once my laptop’s fixed i think that’d be fun lol

[fiddleabout]

(more grishava here)

There’s a town on the horizon, windows glowing in the fading sunlight as they crest a ridge.

Ava draws up to a stop, burrowing further into Beatrice’s cloak.  They’ve been trading off time with it since yesterday, since Ava fell and Beatrice caught her, since Beatrice pulled her out of a crevasse and offered her hand and her name.  

Beatrice stops next to her, hands folded together in front of her.  Ava glances sidelong at her, then back to the first town they’ve found since crawling out of the ocean.  The buildings are utilitarian dark wood and plaster, Ravkan in their dourness, with none of the bright colors Fjerda favors for their homes this far into the north where the days are shorter and nights longer.  

“We passed another hunting cabin,” Ava says eventually.  It’s not safe for her anywhere, in Ravka or in Fjerda, but it’s just as unsafe for Beatrice and the wolf’s head on her shoulder and Fjerdan accent here as it is for Ava. 

“I know,” Beatrice says.  She doesn’t look away from the town for a long moment, and Ava turns more fully towards her, follows the line of her profile against the twilight.  Last night, they had found an hunter’s cabin, and Beatrice had dug out a rickety bow and splintering arrows and disappeared while Ava built up a fire, returning half an hour later with a rabbit for dinner.  Ava had filled the quiet like she so often does, rambling about Diego and Keramzin and all the places she’s ever wanted to see, and then had started flinging questions rapid-fire at Beatrice.  It’s not the first time she’s tried to pry information out of Beatrice, but the first time she’s gotten a response, and she tucked away every new piece of knowledge like a gemstone.

Beatrice, Ava had learned, is two years older than her.  Her mother’s family was Fjerdan as far back as anyone can trace, but her father’s father was Shu, and Beatrice had entered the world looking more like him than anyone else and it had set her in her parents’ poor esteem from the day she was born.  She had been recruited into the druskelle when they came to the smoking husk of her village and found her burying her parents, quiet and contained and bursting with anger.  She’s a crack shot with a gun and a bow, excellent with a sword even by her own modest admission, but prefers hand to hand combat: the close quarters mean she’ll never forget that her opponent was a person just like she is.

(“Even grisha?” Ava had said, the last of her bland unseasoned dinner forgotten, captivated instead by the soft sound of Beatrice’s voice.

Beatrice had paused, gaze drifting towards the fire between them, teeth closing around her lower lip, a flash of white in the flickering dark of the cabin.

“Especially grisha,” she had said after a long moment.”)

“We should probably go there,” Ava says when Beatrice stays quiet.  “We wouldn’t make it to the town before it got too dark anyways.”

“You’re the sun summoner,” Beatrice points out.

Ava’s fingers clench, the sunlight burning in them aching to burst out.  “We should get going,” she says, turning and setting off towards the cabin they’d passed.

She determinedly doesn’t look back to see if Beatrice is following her, but the sound of arrows rattling in a quiver and boots crunching in snow tell her that Beatrice has set off after her.

Beatrice shoots another rabbit just before they make it to the cabin, and stays outside to dress it while Ava disappears inside wordlessly.  There’s wood but no tinderbox or flint, and she has to root through a dusty chest until she finds a dustier roll of maps and a magnifying glass wrapped up in them.  

The door opens just as she’s called the light to her palm and fed a stream of it through the glass, the magnification heating the light until the kindling catches.  She glances over towards Beatrice, mouth opening to crack a joke about honey, you’re home, but it snaps shut at the way Beatrice’s lips are pressed tight together as she stares at Ava’s hands, her own hand clenching around the bow and the dressed rabbit hanging from it.

“It doesn’t make me a witch,” Ava says carefully.  She likes Beatrice, with her quiet careful way of speaking and how she offers the cloak to Ava more often than not even if it means she’ll be cold; it had been easy, in the last day, to almost forget that they’re here now because Beatrice was part of the druskelle unit that captured Ava.  “Or a bad person.  Any more than being a druskelle makes someone a bad person.”

Beatrice stares for a long moment, jaw clenching visibly even across the dusty expanse of the cabin, and Ava can’t help but flick a ball of sunlight into her palm.  She twists her hand slowly, flexes her fingers as the light dances from one fingertip to another, curling and lazy, and straightens up from where she’d been crouched by the fire, turns to face Beatrice more fully.

“We’re not monsters.”  She halves the distance between them, bringing her other hand up and letting the light flow to it.  “Just people.  Grisha can be good or bad or anything they want to be, just like Fjerdans.”

Beatrice’s mouth twists, pulling to one side momentarily, and there’s a creak over the sound of the growing fire when her fist clenches around the bow still in her hand.  Ava stops an arm’s length away, hands out between them and sunlight winding around her fingers.  There’s still so much she hasn’t learned about her power, so much that no one could teach her because there’s never been anyone like her, but she knows how to control it, how to let the light play around her, and it paints Beatrice in soft warm light that gentles the dangerous black of her uniform.  There are crystals of ice in her hair that haven’t melted, glinting and shimmering with Ava’s light.

She reaches out with her free hand, hesitant, slow, and Ava’s breath tangles in her throat.  Beatrice’s hands pulled her out of the crevasse that nearly killed her, swam them to shore, fastened the cloak they’re sharing around Ava’s shoulders gently; her hand reaches, now, for the light that upended Ava’s entire life and Ava tilts towards her and the light follows, winding its way in bright tendrils between Beatrice’s fingers, along the lifeline on her palm, over the barest inch of wrist exposed from her sleeve.  

“When I was a child,” Beatrice says, quieter even than usual, eyes locked onto the sunlight in their hands.  “I was fascinated by grisha.”

Ava wants to step closer, wants to close the distance, wants to curl into Beatrice’s side without having to wait for the excuse of cold to justify it.  The want of it aches in her chest and nearly sends her power spiraling out of her control, a slip she hasn’t felt since her first days after the fold.  

“We’re taught that they’re dangerous, soulless, terrible.”  She turns her hand slowly within the light and Ava swears she can feel it deep in her chest.  “But I wanted to know more about them.  To understand what it was to be so connected to the world that I could control it.  I wanted to be grisha.”

Ava’s control slips, the light flaring and then fading away, leaving them both squinting and Beatrice’s hand hovering an inch over Ava’s palms.  “You what?”

Beatrice frowns, pulls her hand back, stares at it intently, as if touching Ava’s power would have marked her irrevocably.  

“It’s why my parents left me,” Beatrice says, still staring at her hand.  “I’d tried to go south, to find Ravka and the grisha there.  They caught me, and took me north to the woods and left me there.  By the time I made it home, an inferni had set the whole village on fire.  The druskelle took me in.”

“I’m sorry.”  Ava takes a half step closer.  Her palms burn from where Beatrice’s hand had been so closer, and she wants to reach for her, to feel the steady thunder of her pulse in her throat, the line of her cheekbone; she settles instead for settling her hands on Beatrice’s shoulders.  “For your parents, and for your village.  But that doesn’t make all grisha evil, or dangerous, or worth hunting.”

“The darkling is evil,” Beatrice says, shoulders tense in Ava’s hands.  

“The darkling is one person,” Ava counters.  “And he’s a particular brand of jackass that has nothing to do with him being grisha.”

Beatrice almost cracks a smile, and Ava’s fingers tighten at their hold.  She wants to reach for Beatrice’s smile, to make her laugh, to coax more of her-- not the druskelle, not the soldier, but Beatrice-- out into the open.

Beatrice clears her throat, shakes her head, half lifts the rabbit.  “We should--”

“Yeah,” Ava says.  Her hands don’t move for a protracted moment, not until a log pops in the fire and she yanks back.  “For sure.”

It’s only been just under a week, but it’s a familiar dance, Beatrice setting to spearing the rabbit on a spit and Ava hunting for anything resembling plates they can eat off of.  She pauses, head half in a crate that seems to be full of nothing but broken arrowheads, and stares across the small cabin to where Beatrice has shed her cloak and rolled up her sleeves to crouch in front of the fire.  The light from the fire dances across the sinewy lines of her forearms, flickering in the dark against her profile: the solemn slope of her brow, the stubborn sweep of her jaw, the freckles that Ava’s started to see behind her eyelids when she tries to sleep and dark hair rebraided loosely over her shoulder that Ava’s fingers itch to touch.

She’s in trouble, Ava realizes.  As if she didn’t have enough to worry about with the darkling hunting her for who-knows-what horrifying purpose, Fjerda hoping to assassinate her to keep Ravka crippled, a mystical stag she somehow has to find on her own; no, now she has to start developing feelings for a solemn, quiet, kind Fjerdan who’d been trained since she was ten years old to kill people like Ava.

She’s in so much trouble.

[judyfromfinance]

Olden Times. Modern Thinking.

(Heimdall/Modern!Reader)

Summary: You know things you’re not supposed to. You behave oddly. And the way you speak is even odder. Kratos, Mimir, and Atreus have no idea if they should believe your ramblings of another world and of a future they have no way of knowing is real. But, you seem harmless enough. Plus, Faye may rise from her grave if they let a poor woman freeze to death in their forest, right outside their home no less.

~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 3

The boys were out for the day, which lead you to being home alone for the time being. It’s been a rough couple of weeks. Food was a bit scarce. But, more importantly, Fenrir was sick. You’ve met all three of the wolves that they saved. And all of them were loving but Fenrir was the most rambunctious out of the three. You didn’t know him long but it hurt to see the poor animal grow so weak. No matter how sad you grew though, it was nothing compared the inner turmoil that was running amok inside Atreus’s head. As you were cleaning the house and stoking the fire, making sure everything stayed warm for when they returned that you heard voices outside. You opened the giant wooden door slightly, peeking your head out to watch the sad scene play out in front of you. Mimir, who was reading on his barrel, spit out his spoon before asking “What’re doing there lass?”

“They’re back but… I don’t think Fenrir’s doing to good.” It hit different watching this play out in front of you. All though you were quite a ways away. And couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, you knew what had happened. Fenrir had finally passed. You saw the short argument play out before Kratos started to make his way back to the house. You opened the door fully for him as he walked in. He nodded his head your way before turning towards Mimir and saying “The wolf is gone.”

“Oh no. Not Fenrir. How’s the lad taking it?” Kratos turns back to Mimir after hanging up his axe. “Not well.” He grunts before walking towards his bed. “He goes to bury him.” You fiddle with your hands as they speak. No matter how long you’ve stayed here. Under the same roof as him, it was always difficult to talk in the presence of Kratos. He was quite intimidating. But still you speak up. “Poor Fenrir. Poor Atreus. I… I hope they both can find peace.” Kratos looks towards you. Every time he does you can feel a jolt run through you. But you look into his eyes and you know he appreciates your words. He nods then turns back towards his bed. He lays down and starts to drift to sleep. Dreaming of Faye no doubt. Mimir looks towards you before suggesting that you may need some sleep too.

“I uh… I’m not really that tired.” You grab your fur pelt that Atreus had sewn for you from the animals that Kratos had butchered. “I’ll go get us some more firewood. We’re running low.” Mimir hums, “Ok then. Be safe lass.” You nod and smile before quietly leaving through the front door. The cold air hit you like a ton of bricks. Almost knocking the air out of your lungs. You wrapped your arms around you as you trudged forward, making your way to the extra pre-cut logs that lay in the back. You would rather have stayed in the warm cabin but you needed space. To think. The game has finally begun. But it’s no longer a game anymore. This, all of this was real now. These characters were no longer just characters. They were people. And quite of few of these people were gonna get hurt. You stop in front of the fence leading out of the training grounds and towards the firewood. You leaned up against it as you fought with yourself in your head. Do you try to save these people? Could you? You were a mortal amongst gods. You still couldn’t get a hang of your bow and you sure as shit couldn’t fight against anything in this world. And even if you did manage to save people that were destined to die, would that change the future? For better or for worse? Questions ran rampant through your mind as you huffed in frustration. A million questions but no answers. What could you do? You opened the gate as you picked up five pieces of wood from the pile that you and Atreus had cut together earlier. You look up as you hear a roar in the distance. It sounded like a bear. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you hastily blinked them away. You close the gate with your foot as dread built in your gut for what was to come.

“How can a nobody like me possibly help these gods with the impossible?” With your head hung low you made your way back to the cabin. As soon as you tried to push the door open with your shoulder Kratos swung it open almost toppling you over. You squeaked in fear as he caught you. “Are you ok?” He asked. You nodded. “Yea. I’m fine. Why?” You shifted your gaze from him to Mimir and back. “Well you took your bloody time with that firewood lass! You had us worried.” Kratos grunted before telling you to stay put in the house. And with that they went to look for Atreus. You placed your pile of wood near the front door and sat down on your makeshift bed of furs. Kratos had built a small wooden frame for you and piled it with hay and fur. It wasn’t much but it was sweet of him to make it for you. Atreus had carved your name in it in norse runes. If you didn’t know any better, you would say you were practically part of the family. You went to bundle up under the covers before you heard a knock on the door. You turned towards it but didn’t move a muscle. If it was Kratos or Atreus they would just walk in. It was there home after all. This mysterious person knocked again before you got up slowly. You stared. Confused on who this could possibly be.

“I know you’re in there mortal. I just wanna talk…. Do you drink? I brought mead.” No. No no no no NO! This was not supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to be here yet! Why was he here? Maybe… maybe just by you being here you changed the timeline more than you thought. You grabbed the door handle before slowly opening the door. Not bothering with a ‘Hello.’ or even a short ‘Welcome.’ The god of thunder stood before you. A giant of a man as he looked down towards you. What was Thor doing here? How did he know you were here? As if hearing all the questions in your head he motioned towards the table behind you and said “Shall we have a seat? We have a lot to discuss little one.”

You dare not disobey him so you opened the door wider and let him in. He sat himself down before raising Mjolnir and laying it on the table. He turned his head towards you and noticed you stuck, paralyzed in fear. “It’s getting cold. Why don’t you close the door?” You slowly shut the door while not, for even a second, breaking eye contact with Thor. As you watched him take a swig of his mead you finally found your voice. “What do you want?” You question as you slowly approached the table. Thor swirled his drink around before he huffed and capped it back up. Setting it down on the table and turning towards you. “From you? I don’t need anything. The All-Father on the other hand…” and with that another knock sounded from the front door. You gulped down your anxiety as you went to open it. Thor was intimidating sure, but Odin? He may appear to be a frail old man but you knew better. You opened the door.

“Hello (Y/n). May I come in?” You nod your head and pray for Kratos to make a quick return. He was a god after all, maybe he could here you somewhere out there. Odin walked in as his ravens flew in behind him. Each one landing on his arms and disappearing as tattoos. He placed his hands on his hips as he sighed. “Look, we’re not here to intimidate you in any way. I know it may seem like it, you being a mortal amongst gods and all.” He pointed towards himself then to his son. He continued “But we just want answers. See, we heard through the grapevine that you aren’t as normal as you appear to be.” You backed up towards the front door as you kept eye contact with the All-Father. How does he know? How does he know anything? He couldn’t possibly… who told him? He approached you slowly, arms raised in a placating manor. Like one would do towards an animal backed into a corner. But they way he spoke was as if he was talking to a frightened child.

“Look, no one wants Ragnarök to happen. I don’t want anyone to die. Just like you. I want to protect the ones I love. And I’ve heard, that you just might know a thing or two on how to prevent it.” You shook your head vehemently. Your back fully pressed against the door as Odin sighed. “My dear, all I want to do is help. How am I supposed to help you if you can’t help yourself?” Your breathing became shallow as your mind raced. It was too stuffy in here. Your eyes shifted and became hazy. You couldn’t stand it. You needed air. You go to turn around but the door is pulled open for you. You bump, once again, into Kratos. Atreus behind him in a state of shock. You looked up towards him with tears in your eyes. Fear flashed through you in that moment, hoping that he didn’t think you were plotting against him with the enemy. But you saw a softness in his eyes as he gently pressed his warm palms on each of your shoulders. He nodded before moving you behind him. Atreus walked up next to you and held you close. The God of War faced down the All-Father as they discussed peace. Kratos set Mimir down before giving his answer.

“No.” And with that Thor stood up and launched his hammer towards Kratos. Causing a giant crater in the roof as you and Atreus bolted inside. You ran up to Mimir to ask if he was alright and in that time Odin walked out the door with Atreus on his heels. You both watched the door in silence.

“What do you suppose their talking about?” Mimir had whispered. Trying to stay silent to see if he could hear an inkling of what the two may be discussing. “He uh…” you look towards Mimir. “He’s probably inviting Atreus to Asgard.” His eyes widen as he looks at you. “Now how would you know that?” You fiddled with your fur pelt as you looked towards the door once more. “We have a lot to discuss once Kratos returns.”

~*~*~*~*~

I’m slowly but surely learning how to make my posts look better for y’all lol. But YEEEE. 3rd installment. Still no Heimdall. 😭 sorry. But heres a little bit of existential dread and fearing our knowledge of the future and our own mortality compared to the gods we keep company for ya~. Hopefully that tides ya over~.

Taglist: @zoleea-exultant @sumebuddy @sissontrinity123 @different4black @vknr @slaying69696969 @dont-mind-me27 @dijanur @frog-cultist @jamallemal @star-angel1 @mrsurrealism @ladysaribu @shirocchi13 @noxiemoon @fullmoonwolfer1 @forg1 @onix-a @silvergoldraeven @inky-weeaboo-weirdo14

[moss-ridden-owl-creature]

Introduction Post :DD

I don’t know exactly how to do this but I’m doing it anyways!

+🌑+🌘+🌗+🌖+🌕+🌔+🌓+🌒+🌑+

Name: Call me N, Percy, Owl or Halskë :)

Age: 15+ (I’m a minor)

Gender: Non-binary (pronouns: any except for neos)

Orientation: biromantic & Demisexual :)

Religion: Hellenistic & Nordic pagan (Greek & Norse deities. Probably won’t post often about this stuff but I do reblog things relating to it) (No, I am not interested in converting, don’t try it. Believe me, the Mormons at my school have tried.)

I’ll post my art once in while! Nothing on my blog in terms of interests is set in stone, but you will often see art from fandoms I’m in, or of my ocs/fursonas!

theriotype: Tundra wolf! (Spiritual) hearttype: border collie! (Spiritual)

kintypes: Cryptidkin, dragonkin, crowkin! (These are either spiritual or/and emotional.) & Serial Designation N (MD) Fictionkin!

Fandoms: Grishaverse, Riordanverse, The MCU, Good Omens, The Folk of The Air, Murder Drones, FNaF, The Dream SMP (yes, I know some of the CCs are bad people, I supported very few of them. Tommy, Ranboo, Tubbo, Phil, and Techno were the only ones I actively watched outside of lore streams. This was a hyperfixation of mine and I am still very willing to talk about it because suddenly it’s been revived on Tumblr and now my page is full of C!Clingy duo. Please talk to be about it, I loved it and still do.) The Lunar Chronicles, The Hunger Games, The Song of Achilles, EPIC: The Musical, Aru Shah, Hamilton (technically), Warriors, Avatar: TLA, Iron Widow, The Furry fandom, and many others! (These are in no specific order)

I’m a batshit insane Kaz Brekker simp lol :)

Other things: I’m a furry (my fursona is named Halskë! I will post about these things.) I am diagnosed with ADHD, Slytherin, Cabin 7 (Apollo), I’m a fan of bones and taxidermy :) I also bow hunt large game such as antelope, deer, elk and big horned sheep :)

C!Technoblade (DSMP) kinnie! (Not a kintype!Just relate to the character:) )

just a note! I am in no way identifying with or as Percy Jackson from the Riordanverse, Percy is just my chosen name. Although I do absolutely love the Riordanverse and it’s a life long hyperfixation of mine, Please don’t refer to him as me, thank you!

I am a diehard FNaF fan. I will talk about it for HOURS. I love FNaF. Mention it and I will vibrate at a frequency strong enough to shatter glass. So yes, please talk to me about it :)

DNI: Basic haters, trans-homo-or otherwise LGBT-phobic people, pro-Nazis, zoos, racists, or fans of The Human Centipede (Gives me PTSD-like triggers.) & NSFW blogs specifically, I don’t care if you interact with me, but do not bring anything NSFW into my asks, I’m a minor and on the asexual spectrum and it makes me uncomfortable, thanks! :)

also please note, even if you are not in my DNI list, I do block freely, I do not stand for people who are constantly pessimistic. I don’t care if you’re pessimistic in general, myself am a realist, but what I mean by that is if you are more than 80% of the time just a negative being, I will most likely not interact with you.

another thing! My content is considerably 13+ (I will not respond to asks if you under 12 years old, as it makes me uncomfortable because tweens scare me.) and if you are older than 25, do not interact with me (EX: asks), as you are between 10-5 years older than me. (The under 12 rule does not apply to those who are regressors.)

also for Gaza/Ukraine GoFundMe’s, I am unable to donate, I would if I could.but I can’t, so please don’t send me asks to donate.

I accept people of all gender, sexual, and/or identity. Don’t come on to my profile with your phobic bullshit.

online friends! :D: @kirshimadenkisero @the-bineapple @writingnotes520 @popatochsp (These goobs are also my mutuals!)

my tags!

Original posts: #Cryptid whispers, #Dragon Growls, #The Wolf Bites #N Rambles

art: #The Moss Owl Creature Has Taken To Scribbling, #Owl Draws Will add more as the list grows!

reblogs: #Dragon Rumbles

That’s all! Have a good day/evening :D

[sketchfanda]

A Little Moxxie Love:Now THAT’S Comedy!!

Somedays was just another day in hell, especially in Imp City. Violence on the streets, the odd riot here or there as its denizens of imps, hellhounds, sinners and all the manner of hellborn walked to and fro going about their business. For Moxxie, his business would've been enjoying a rare bit of peace and quiet at the I.M.P office, basking in the downtime before and inbetween jobs or gigs.

But noooo, could't have that now could? Maybe even just some quality time with his lovely wife, Christ on a stick, he'd take some personal time with Loona or one of his, what was the word he was looking for? Oh right, Booty Calls. But insead of any of that, here he was in the living world, sneaking his way around a local park somewhere in Burbank, California looking for a tree house.

No not like some little cabin club house for some neighbourhood tykes, as like an actual, literal treehouse!! A very infamous one at that for you see this treehouse belonged to quite the celebrity. One our favourite little Imp Hitman had the distinct pleasure of being designated to deliver the client's revenge by proxy. As the sharply dressed, put own upon killer for hire mumbled to himself like a certain dastardly mutt, hauling a package securely in his arms, he couldn't help but reflect on how he wound up here. Thinking back to how it all started with that goddamn wolf....

~Imp City, The Pride Ring in Hell as overseen by King Lucifer Morningstar. To be precise, The Office of I.M.P (Immediate Murder Professionals, duh!!),a few moments ago~

??:"And that's why I want that damn-blasted squirrel dead!! DEAD!! YA' HEAR ME!! D,E,A,D DEAD as a doornail!! As dead as she made me!!"* Moxxie along with his ever lovely wife Millie and Blitzo's surly teen hellhound secretary and dispatcher Loona simply sat at their usual meeting room table, varying degrees of deadpan expressions on their faces as their latest potential client seemed to finally finishing his rambling tangent of ranting and raving, nonplussed as he seemed be coughing up a storm. The sinner before them was particular as he looked similar to but sure as fuck wasn't a hellhound like Loona. No this wolf was a sinner of the recently deceased variety and depending how well you knew your toon celebrities, he was a famous one.*

Loona:*shares a glance to her imp co-workers,slash friends with benefits (Don't tell Blitzo,none of his business what a grown hellhound does with her sex and love life.) before she rolls her eyes as she types at her phone.)"Right so yeah no shit Sherlock,we get that. You want this lady offed, kind of what we do here Pops..."

??:”That’s Walter Wolf to you, you punk ass whatever! Kids these days not even a mister, no it’s just pops, you’re about as worse than that squirrel!!”*The hellhound effortlessly ducked the old sinner’s cane as he once again went on another rambling tangent. Loona and the imp couple rolling their eyes as they waited for Yiddish accented codger to refocus. Yes sir, the one and only Walter Wolf, archenemy regular punch bag of Slappy Squirrel. Still holding a grudge and no doubt having wound up here because he finally bit the big one and it really came to bite him in his senile furry behind.*

Moxxie:*deciding it was time at least to try and get this conversation back on track. Particularly before the old lupine sinner caused himself to die...again. Was it possible to die twice in Hell for a sinner?* "Sir yes we get it. As Loona told you, we make it our business to go to the living world and get the likes of you their payback. So details would be nice, especially if there's any specific way you want her to die?"

Walter:*paused mid rant as he adjusted his glasses, squinting at Moxxie.* "Alright you little red skinned horned opossum, that's how you want it, you got it. I want you to take this little bundle right here and plant it somewhere in that uppity Slappy's tree in Burbank. Put it somewhere she's never gonna find it and KABOOM!! Ol' Walter Wolf finally wins one!! In your face ya uppity squirrel bitch!!"

Millie and Loona could only narrow their eyes with deadpan intent at the coughing, wheezing old wolf sinner, given the state of him implied exactly how he'd died in the first place. But hey leave it to old Walter Wolf to never learn a lesson, right? As Moxxie nervously eyed the package he now held in his hand, hearing the ticking of a clock as beneath its simple light brown wrapping paper was a bomb. Realising with little to no doubt he was going to have to go to the living world and actually try to kill Slappy Squirrel of all people!!

Moxxie:"....Oh crumbs...."*Now really given the circumstances and the magnitude of the situation he was about to find himself in? Who could blame him for being only able to respond like that? if Blitzo were here, there was no doubt he'd tell moxxie man up, stop being a little bitch and go kill the old squirrel!! It was their job!!*

~And now back to our regular feature present~

That moment of reflection made Moxxie grit his teeth and spit, if not outright hiss as he reminded himself if and when he saw that old wolf again? He'd slap the absolute shit out of him, like it wasn't bad enough he was going to try kill Slappy Squirrel? One of the few fondest moments in his otherwise abysmal childhood had been watching old Slappy cartoons from the living world with his gone far too soon saint of a mom. But of course sweet precious Millie took a moment to convince him to take up this job alone as 1. Blitzo was too busy with his usual shenanigans and 2. She felt going solo would do his confidence a world of good.

So of course he continued on, mustering up the fortitude to carry out his mission. Besides which he knew he had to make it fast enough since that stupid fucking wolf didn't tell him how long he had exactly left on the timer for this bomb!! Any further hesitation or delays and KABOOM!! but finally the sweet relief as he found himself at what had to be the tree that the squirrel called home.

It was fortunate especially for our fave little imp boi that it was dark out, made for a little stealth. Millie was onto something, doing this solo was doing wonders for his self esteem especially when he didn't have to be overly elaborate like at that summer camp trying to be in charge. Unlike that mission this would be direct and to the point, get in and plant the bomb then hightail out of there like bat out well, hell. Determined more than ever, the imp managed to pry open a window soon as he got close to the house, entering the living room so far so good, still unseen and unheard.

Now all he needed was a good place to plant the explosive package and he could haul his crimson behind out of here. But he had to be still smart enough about this, Slappy was a crafty one in her cartoons and there was no doubt age only increased that. Spying around the room as he stopped his sights upon a large pile in the corner. Bags and mountains of fan-mail and packages, no doubt too much for the squirrel to bother reading and sorting thorugh, it was perfect!!

Pleased with himself as he hummed a merry tune quietly, the red possum got to work as he dove his hands into the pile, burying the packaged TNT deep within fan-mail pile. A silent sigh of relief at a job about to be very well done, that ought to get Walter to shut up. Before he could start on making his exit, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, fishing it out to see a text notification from Loona. It had to be legitimately serious for her to message him during a job, she'd been getting somewhat better with the dispatch details and she sure as hell wasn't sending him a sexy pic now of all times as he opened and read it.

Loona:"The stupid old fart just mentioned he set the bomb for 3 hours when he handed it to ya. If you're good to go then haul ass!!"

Moxxie checked his watch and saw the time, doing the mental math between when Walter handed him the package and the time he left for the living world and tried to find Slappy's house. He had about 2 hours, just enough time to make his escape and hopefully plenty of time before Slappy woke up or got home, assuming she was out late. Just as he was about to put his phone away, he froze like a deer in the headlights as he heard the flip and click of a switch, the living room lights snapped on. Turning to the source of the sound and knew all too well at once, he was screwed as he turned and saw Slappy Squirrel herself standing over him......in nothing but a towel as she grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned him against the wall, damn she was a strong old broad.

Moxxie:"Ooh crumbs...."*Now of course Moxxie wasn't just saying that due to being caught in the act but also well, just look at her!! Slappy had more than aged well, hell she was a figurative silver fox!! She had more curves than a freeway and a set of tits and ass that would make Minerva Mink green with envy. Her deadpan blue eyes twinkling no doubt with twinkling with thoughts of how much she was going to make him suffer.*

Slappy:*eyeing the imp as she began to speak up in that grizzled ol' new yorker like accent of hers.* "Ya know, I'll give ya points on the breaking and entering there slick, ain't often I had stalkers sneak into my place and almost not get caught. Would've maybe gotten away with it if I hadn't seen you outside my bedroom window right when I was I was finished hitting the showers. Real ballsy I'll give ya that...."*Moxxie gulped nervously as he awaited whatever toon type mayhem was about to befall him. Slappy was a mistress in the art of comedy-fu after all. It didn't help he was feeling rather turned on seeing her up close like this.*

Moxxie:"Now Ms.Squirrel, or uhm..sorry you've never married, have you? Not to be rude but I explain..."*The Imp paused as he noticed Slappy's eyes narrowed into a seductive gaze. A grin to match forming that sexy furry face of hers, causing him to see she was looking down at his crotch. Oh just terrific, Slappy Squirrel now no doubt thought he was some creepy looney pervert stalker. There was no doubt going to be a mallet in his future for sure when she suddenly spoke up, getting his attention.*

Slappy:"Well now far as sneaky fans go, you're definitely a looker...and really packing it. So I'll give you a pass, hot stuff if you do Lil' Ol' me a favour. It's been way too damn long since I got any and looks to me like you know how to help a lady scratch her itch."*Moxxie had a feeling he knew exactly what Slappy was going on about but there was no way this was happening, right?" Blinking as Slappy unpinned him and let him down, cluthching her towel as she walked with the sort of sway to her backside. Her hips giving off a hypnotic vibe that practically yelled for his attention before the silver fox or rather squirrel turned around. Looing at him with sensual mischief as she made a little come over gesture, finger wagging as she made it clear she wanted him to follow. The imp naturally obliging her of course as they made their way upstairs.*

Moxxie of course was interally freaking out and who could blame him? Okay on the one hand Slappy Squirrel wanted to get laid with him BUT on the other hand he had less than 2 hours and counting before the bomb went off!! If he wanted to get out still alive and breathing then this would take all his prowess and experience he could muster. Bring the A game as they would say because someone of Slappy's age and all clearly got around and anything less would not bode well for our Imp boi.

So there Moxxie now sat on the mattress of Slappy's bed, shirtless and his pants remaining on for now as the fine wine aged squirrel stood before him. That mischievous erotic minx grin on her face as she proceeded to flash him, dropping her towel as she stood before him in all her naked glory. Oh yeah this silver fox of a squirrel hadn't merely aged gracefully, if anything she'd gotten better with age. As she walked up to him, leaning in a way that made those luscious furry boobs of hers jiggle as she took his hands and made him touch them.

Moxxie:"Ooh crumbs..."*Now really could you blame the little guy? Less than 2 hours passing by every second yet here he was with a naked Slappy Squirrel. Her body language just screaming she was down to fuck, her odor a scent of acorns and the indication of her recent aforementioned shower. There was no doubt this toon hit her peak at puberty and never left since and only gotten truly better with age. Unable to look away as she struck a few seductive pin-up poses, showing off and displaying her stunning assets.*

Slappy:"What do you think Little Man? All natural unlike some bimbos I can think to name? No need for all that gentle love making crud, go on ad give them a nice squeeze."*The sensual cougar of a squirrel playfully goaded, shuddering as she sensually bit her lip in response to Moxxie obliging her.* "Mmm damn good hands there...guessing I ain't the first set of tits you played with...then again, what gal wouldn't want that, right?"*She teased coyly as she reached down to caress his crotch, the material of his pants stiff and swollen with his length and girth. Licking her lips as she decided to get a more direct look at the goods she was going to be playing with. Unzipping his fly and pulling down the waistband, boxers and all when her prize sprung out like a jack in the box.*"........Jesus, Mary and goddamn Joseph, where you been all my life, Little Man?"

Moxxie:*blushed as he smiled cutely and modestly, unable to help himself from massaging and playing with Slappy's furry boobs.* "Uhm something like the south...the very deep south."*It wasn't quite a lie, after all Hell was a deep south as you could get. Before he shuddered as Slappy grasped and began to stroke his cock, firmly and steady as she pressed her lips to his. Feeling her tongue shove its way with a thirst on par with honeymoon night with Millie.*

Slappy:*broke the sloppy kiss for air, stray strands of saliva connecting as she panted with desire, hugging Moxxie's face as she pressed it deep against the valley of her grey furred titties. Still beating his meat as she felt Moxxie purr against how warm she felt, her blue eyes gazing at him with a skyrocketing lust.*"Well Little Man from deep down south, I want you to take this damn cock and fuck me into a sexual coma. Fuck me 'til it feels like your dick falls off or I literally die of orgasm. Can you do that for me, Little Man? You want to fuck me so bad I might look like I'd be carrying your kids?"* The sly erotic squirrel grinned with delight as Moxxie gave her his answer in the best possible way. Squeezing and suckling on her boobs, showing he wasn't just experienced with women but not stranger to handling a furry woman either.*

Naturally Slappy was only more than fine to let out deepthroated gasps and moans as she began making out with the imp with a thirst and passion that put horny, hormone addled teenagers to shame. Their lips and tongues dancing together with sloppy desire as they fell on the bed together rolling a tangle of limbs. Silvery grey fur pressed and rubbing against crimson red skin before Slappy found found herself laying atop the imp in a 69 position. Planting her furred booty his face as her bushy tail wagged sensually in satisfaction as grasped and stroked his cock once more.

The silver fox of a squirrel breathed in deep the raw masculine scent radiating off of that dick as she began to plant kisses and licks upon it, spine tingling from the tip of her tail right along her nerves to her brain. Her arousal skyrocketing as she felt Moxxie’s hands grabbing her ass with firm squeezes as she found him eating her out, a very skilled and long tongue probing aw at her slit. This served to further fuel Slappy’s desire as she proceeded to return the favour, taking the length and girth of the imp’s dick and displayed her wealth of sexual experience with stunning fellatio. Deepthroating him in ways that would put even the most skilled porn star to shame before she levelled up the pleasure by sandwiching his shaft between her tits.

Slappy:*grinning sensually as she shot a look over her shoulder at the imp, as she rode on his face. Squeezing his head between her thighs as she stroked and jerked him off with a furry titfuck on his drool soaked dick.* “Mmhm, you’re not making too bad a first impression little man, I’ve made horses and bulls blow their load just from a handjob. Now I’m really looking forward to the min event. Remember, don’t do gentle, I want to fucking rut…” *She further emphasised her point as she locked her mouth back onto that dick. Licking and sucking what wasn’t covered by her big furry melons.*

Moxxie was well aware how intense and rough Slappy wanted it, unknown to most but a few select fans was that Slappy had a very active sex life. Some rumours went about that she’d done some porn here and there, even still today she held a high rank as the most searched GMILF/GILF around. Plus the fact he still had a bomb to worry about only reminded him this wasn’t just sex for surviving the wrath of Slappy, it was to fuck for his life!! As he smacked Slappy’s ass like a bingo drum, making the cougar of a squirrel moan as he continued to display his own oral skills, getting her nice and wet.

As soon as the moment to proceed past foreplay presented itself of course, our fave possum wasted no time in seizing the moment to rock Slappy’s world. And oooh was she finding it rocked Damn good as Slappy rode him cowgirl style, moaning deeply and lewdly with little to no shame. Her furry tits bouncing hypnotically as the Imp’s hands were squeezing her furry booths and sensually rubbing her swaying tail. That absolute unit of a dick of his hammering away as the squirrel saw a rising and falling bump indicating how deep his length and girth was hitting her.

It was enough to make Slappy wish she was a few decades younger just so this stud really could put a baby in her but all the same, he really knew how to make a woman feel horny. The silver squirrel relishing any and every moment he would cum inside her as they went through a variety of positions. A minute man he was not, no wham bam thank you ma’am here as even took it anal and oral, especially loving when he’d fuck her face as if her mouth and throat were an onahole. It was like he was fucking her as if his life depended on it which unknown to her, it literally was!!

Eventually after what felt an eternity, Moxxie checked his watch to see he had between 5 to minutes remaining on the bomb. Hips blurring as he was taking Slappy doggy style, the intensity and pace so bliss numbing that Slappy couldn’t help but fall into a prone bone position. Ass jiggling as her eyes glowed with pink hearts showing how pleasure overboard her brain was, her face a very rare expressions of fucked silly no fan had likely ever seen on her eben in her porn career. Before she felt the sweet embrace of unconsciousness take her as she came together with the imp one final time, sleep taking her as she basked in the afterglow.

Slappy:*mumbled into her pillow as Moxxie scrambled to make his escape, cock withdrawn from her slit as he rushed to grab and gather up his clothes.* “Daaaamn little man, if I was to die right now? I’d have no regrets…Fucking, A…”*So out of it that she hadn’t realised anything amiss or notice Moxxie jump right through her window. The imp running far away fast as he could, calling Millie or Loona to open up a portal back to Imp City. Just in time as the timer hit Zero, Slappy’s treehouse going up in a flaming mushroom cloud implosion.*

Over the next few days, The living world headlines were running amuck with the news of the sudden and shocking passing of Slappy Squirrel, most chalking it up to a possible gas leak at the least or a hit from one of her enemies. Down in hell, to be precise IMP’s office in Imp city, Moxxie, Millie and Loona were enjoying a rare bit of peace and quiet. The former Especially needed it given he was coping with having survived getting caught in the crossfire or the fact he up and actually offed Slappy Squirrel thatnis after he boned her. When suddenly the phone rang as the hellhound picked it up to answer.

Loona:”I.M.P, who do you want dead and why? Make it quick while I actually try to give a fuck…”*Speaking in her usual aloof blunt manner, humming as whoever was on the other end seemed to do something rare. Actually holding her attention and curiosity as she seemed intrigued.*”Ah-huh…mhmm…you don’t say…hang on…” *Moxxie and Millie seemed puzzled as Loona was grinning, giving the latter a knowing look as she set the phone to speaker. A familiar New Yorker accented husky voice speaking up.*

Slappy:”Hey there little man…..”*Moxxie widened his eyes in shock and panic. Why oh crumbs of course the squirrel wound up and no doubt wanted one thing…revenge!!*” Eeh now don’t worry I ain’t mad at you, You were doing a job besides which, I found ol’ Walter and tore him a new one. That’s what he gets for thinking he got the last laugh. Now how’s about you being that cute little Red Devil booty of yours over here and make my afterlife erotic? See you soon handsome…”*Moxxie had the most adorable dumbstruck expression on his face as the sinner squirrel hung up. Before he felt his phone vibrate, fishing it out to find she’d sent him her address…in the lust circle along with a picture of her naked and posing seductively. Millie and Loona looking over his shoulder, quite impressed.*

Millie:0w0”Hey Moxxie can I come along? I want to have a taste of that silver squirrel myself….”

Moxxie:”ooooh crumbs…”

[bungiri]

Nina lore drop? 👀

i'm still thinking about her backstory and trying to connect things BUT HERE'S SOME BASIC INFO ABOUT HER 👉🏼👈🏼

nina wasn't born a werewolf. she was attacked while sneaking out with her friends in the middle of the night. her friends managed to flee and go for help, but she was left alone with the wolf.

the werewolf that turned her was a man temporarily staying in her village. he was never caught and it's assumed that she was attacked by normal wolves or coyotes despite her friends' account of that night.

more under the cut RAHHH ‼️

her life in pelican town is a lot more mundane. even 10 years later she's still trying to cope with being a werewolf, even though she's adjusted well, and she lives in an isolated cabin to avoid her secret being exposed or any wolf instincts that she hasn't fully suppressed

nina isn't a farmer, but she does grow some things in pots and raised beds. she mainly helps the shop owners out with repairs, heavy lifting, deliveries, and just any other thing they need help with. she's willing to do farm work too if you ask her, but she has to leave before it gets dark on nights when the moon is full.

she has huge scratch scars on her back and torso from the attack. she also has one on her face

nina is stoic and a woman of few words, but she's very sweet once she feels comfortable opening up. she laughs easily and desperately wants to make her friends happy. her love languages are giving gifts and acts of service :'-)

she's nervous when it comes to physical affection. she gives those half hugs at first, but she's a really good hugger once she's comfortable...it's the muscles...

the children are the ones that call her nini. some of the townspeople (haley, jodi, sam, evelyn) have picked up that nickname for her as well. she doesn't mind.

she's surprisingly good at baking, mostly bread. if you get close enough, you can sometimes smell the scent of fresh bread coming from her cabin.

nina is a member of the adventurers guild. marlon and gil like having her around and she can often be found down in the mines. she prefers clubs over swords and even uses her own hands to take some monsters out.

she's usually alone at festivals. her favorite is the moonlight jellies.

idk what else to put so feel free to ask questions if u have any 😁🤝🏼

there's a lot more that happens after she gets attacked but i'm still thinking KFBSKFJ i'll have to ramble about it to my friend or anyone who will listen

[happyk44]

valgrace age regression fic! I've never written one before and I'm sort of flip-flop on age regression as a kink, but I'm fond of non-sexual age regression and figured, you know who would probably appreciate being a kid (since he technically never was one)

--

He couldn't explain it. He understood, sort of, why he enjoyed this… smallness but he couldn't really explain how it happened. It just did.

If he thought about it hard enough, it was sometime after the first war. When everyone was celebrating in New Rome and he'd come across a discarded plush elephant on his way back to the barracks. He'd sat on his bed, staring at its soft embroidered eyes and squeezing it close to his chest. He'd never had a toy before.

Some kids did. At the Wolf House. Usually because they were dropped off with them but Jason wasn't so he didn't.

He went back and left the toy with Terminus after an hour of cuddling with it and forgot about the experience soon after.

But in the aftermath of the second war and his ability to travel, he'd come across a lot more options and, well…

He'd never really been a kid before.

Some days, when he thought about it, he figured that was it. The real reason, the kicker. He'd been given up as a child, long before he could form solid memories, and trained as a warrior for so long, a soldier for so long, that being a regular kid never panned out.

There were expectations on his head - like a weight or a noose - that childish behaviour was not allowed, the way it was for the others.

They could throw tantrums if they wanted. He could not. They were allowed to keep childhood effects that had been dropped off with them.

He never had any childhood effects. He had the clothes on his back and a name. Since Romulus and Remus, he was the youngest of the Wolf House recruits. Most kids wound up there somewhere in their early preteens - at most, eight or so.

The second youngest to him was Dakota. Five years old with a missing tooth and a sleepy swaying disposition. And Dakota was only there because his mother passed. Jason was four when they met.

Dakota had a teddy bear that Jason found more interesting to bite like prey than cuddle with as Dakota would.

But now he had toys for both.

It was a secret. He couldn’t just display it all over his cabin so he kept everything in a large box in his closet, hidden underneath heavy quilts. One of things he appreciated about living at Camp Half-Blood was the privacy.

The barracks at Camp Jupiter were always filled with people. Which was good for his wolf habits and need for a pack but bad when it came to this. Everyone had little effects they hung up and kept in their trunks and some people (read Dakota) were less inclined to be private about certain things but for the most part everyone waited until they were out of the Camp to expand their private lives.

You were a soldier.

What private life did you need?

But the privacy of having a cabin to himself was good for him. He could practice his little habit alone without worry about being walked in on. Or, at least, that was the intention.

For the last couple of months, he and Leo had been engaged in a training tactic Leo had so intelligently declared “SNEAK-UP SCARE TIME” right before flicking Jason’s ear when Jason didn’t flinch. He’d snuck up behind him and shouted it.

Jason was the son of Jupiter. Manipulating the air, leaning into the sound, hearing shifts, feeling the sensation of someone’s presence - these were all child’s play to him. And Leo had been homeless, on the streets, for a good portion of his upbringing.

As much as his usual go-to was to ramble endlessly, distracting adversaries with his words to keep them from noticing the small smoke bomb he was making behind his back, he was impeccably stealthy. He had to be. Stealing was not effective when conducted by heavy-handed people.

Hiding was not effective when conducted by heavy breathers. Leo was nimble and quiet. And when he was caught and dragged into foster and group homes, living in said homes made him great at stepping quietly so as not to wake people up when snagging snacks and sneaking off to his hideaway to prepare for his inevitable escape.

So they liked trying to one-up each other lately. Jason had lost a few games and Leo had lost a few games. It was fun for them. A good bonding exercise. Which Jason liked and knew Leo had to enjoy.

His life was always being shoved to the back and since Calypso had left camp to join the Hunters - partly to explore the world, partly because the only interaction she’d had in her last few hundred years of life was with male heroes - he’d been… a little off.

They hadn’t been dating - Leo admitted, privately to Piper and Jason only, that he was gay and Calypso wasn’t interested in dating someone she was all but forced to fall in love with anyway - but Jason knew it was comforting for him to have been a priority.

Calypso defaulted to him on most things and tended to hang around him closely, even in groups.

At least until she left with Thalia weeks ago to explore the world in the safety of an all-girl group.

So in hindsight Jason should’ve expected Leo to do something like this. He’d already been upping the games since Calypso’s departure. And Leo was skilled. Pharmacies were locked up.

He’d talked about breaking into them to grab medicine he couldn’t afford, that he taught himself how to pick locks as a child and that the skill just came in handy after his mother passed.

So really. Jason should’ve expected Leo to break into his cabin at some point. Either to hide and scare him or to try and sneak up on him. Silent lockpicking was a good skill to hone in on after all.

It was like getting caught with his pants around his ankles and hand around his dick.

Embarrassing. Humiliating.

His teether - a baby thing he was familiar with, what with his biting problem growing up - was still snug between his teeth from where he’d been chewing it the last hour.

But his cozy blanket - something he had to painfully stitch together out of six different baby blankets just to fit around him - had fallen to the floor as he jumped up. In his haste, his foot snagged his colouring book and the page he had been working diligently on tore in half.

Part of him wanted to cry.

The other part wanted to grab the torn page and suffocate Leo to death with it.

“Whoa,” Leo said quickly, jumping into the room. The door snapped shut behind him. His hand snapped up as Jason stiffened more than he already was. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

His eyes were darting around the room, taking in the stuffed toys Jason had set up nearby, the trinkets laid out for him to choose from, the fucking animal themed colouring book he was using. “Jay-”

“We should’ve established safe zones,” he said, ripping the teether from his mouth. It scattered somewhere under his bed. He shoved a hand through his hair, frazzled. Never in his life had been caught so off-guard.

Maybe when Juno smacked his memories out of his head but that didn’t really count, did it?

His heart pounded.

Leo liked to make jokes about everything.

This could not be a joke. Even a private one, just between the two of them. Jason was already ashamed to have this need to be small. He wasn’t supposed to be small! He was supposed to be large, imposing - a born leader, like his father.

This wasn’t normal.

"I'm sorry about your picture," Leo said. He tore the rest of the page out of the book. Jason's chest heaved but Leo just closed the book up and set it next to his pencils neatly. The paper crinkled as he balled it up. "I can, uh, I can get you another one?"

Blood thundered in Jason's ears. Every inflection in the air rose against his skin like static. Leo, always so aware of other people, was shifting cautious now as he reached for Jason's blanket. He rose steady to his feet.

Like a wild animal, Jason felt. His teeth bit into his lip. Any harder and he was going to tear open the skin.

Leo regarded him like he was feral too. "Hey, hey," he whispered. "It's just me. I'm not gonna tell anyone." He raised the blanket up. "Can I?"

Jason's hands shook at his sides. He fisted them so tightly his short nails cut into his skin. "Leo-"

"Come on." Leo took a step closer and closer until he draped Jason's blanket back around his shoulders, tying it off around his neck. "Superman needs his cape."

He smoothed his hands down Jason's arms, smiling softly. "It's okay, Jay. I promise."

"You're-" Shy, small, Jason grabbed the edges of his blanket and tried to wrap them around himself. Nervously, he ducked his gaze away. "You're not gonna make fun of me."

It wasn't a question but Leo shook his head and said, "Nah, I got other things to tease you about." He flicked the bridge of Jason's nose, just about the frame of his glasses. "Like these goofy birth control glasses."

Jason snorted. Leo had lived with an old navy officer for a spell. Apparently, the glasses he wore throughout his deployment were military issued and constantly plugged by everyone who had to wear them as the ugliest glasses ever.

While his glasses were not military issued, they were a fairy similar - thick brown frames. But they were sturdy so he could care less if they were unappealing to look at.

"Do you want your, uh-" Leo squatted, staring off to where the teether had fallen under Jason's bed. "It was a teether, right?"

Slowly, Jason nodded. Leo vanished from view before emerging. He pulled a wipe from his pockets, cleaning the rubber off. Drying it off on his shirt, he presented to Jason like a gift - but not to be taken. He smacked Jason's hand away when he reached for it.

Eyes locked on the other's, Jason leaned forward and caught the teether between his teeth, pulling it into his mouth. He bit down into the soft rubber. Like an instant release it was. Some of his anxiety ebbed away. He sighed around the toy.

"Yeah, there you go, buddy," Leo hummed. He caught Jason's hand and guided him over to his bed. "Sit down, I'll bring your things over."

Jason's eyes fluttered shut as he snuggled up against the headboard, chewing into his toy with abandon. His blanket pulled around him tighter. It was so soft - his absolute favourite.

A little ways away, Leo was tidying up his neatly placed items. He packed up mostly everything back into the box, save for the colouring book and a gray wolf plushie. He picked up a set of plastic keys and snorted.

"I'm gonna be honest, I never understood why kids like these."

Jason sighed. "Mmm, I like-" He snuggled into his blanket. "I like the sound." He mimicked jangling the keys together. "Clink, clink, clink." He giggled to himself, pulling his legs to his chest.

He'd never spoken before like this. He never had a reason to. His voice, even to him, sounded different - softer, uncharacteristically so. But Leo just shrugged like he saw no difference between the blunt speech he normally had and the softened giggles that were going on now.

"Clink, clink, huh?" Closing the lid, Leo set the box against the wall and brought over the items he left out. He handed Jason the keys. There was a patience in his eyes that Jason had never seen in anyone before. At least never directed towards him.

Jason clinked his keys together. The colours melted together as the motion blurred the toy. His focus reigned in so hard on the sound and sight that he missed Leo speaking to him, up until Leo's hand rested against his back, snagging him awake from his ministrations.

"Hey." Leo stroked a hand through his hair. Jason Ieaned into the touch. He loved when people pet him. He wished they did it more. "Can I sit with you, Jay?"

Eager, Jason nodded, scooting over to make room. But Leo didn't saddle up beside him. Instead, he gestured for Jason to move forward then slid up behind him. Seated in his lap, Jason felt impeccably small.

Which was ridiculous given he had a near foot on Leo to begin with but with Leo easing him back into his chest, arms secure around him, he let himself be a little ridiculous.

Leo placed his book in front of him, his chin knocking against Jason’s shoulder. He placed Jason’s goofy pencil case - a shimmery thing he stared at for five minutes in the store before grabbing it - and handed him the wolf plush

“So, uh-” He pushed his hand through Jason’s hair while Jason picked up his book and curled up into Leo’s lap, flipping through until he found a page of a cartoonishly drawn dolphin. “-this something you do often?”

“Sometimes.” A clarity hit him. He raised his head, back tightening. “Is that weird?”

“No. I mean-” Leo snorted. “I’ve been deep into the internet. I’ve heard of this before. It’s a…” He paused. “A little thing or… regression or something. I don’t remember. Wasn’t really my thing.”

Jason pulled out a fat blue crayon from his pencil case. “The internet, huh?”

“Mmm.” Leo leaned over his shoulder as he began colouring in the water around the dolphin. “Sometimes it’s a fetish, kink, thing, I think. But-” He cleared his throat. “-I take it it’s not that way for you?”

“No.” Jason bit his lip. “Just makes me feel…”

Warm. Comforted. Small. Quiet.

“Good.” His voice fell into a slow childish mumble. “When e’rythin’s a lot. Like bein’ small again.” He paused. His crayon dug into the page, creasing it. “Is that weird?”

“Nah.” Leo kissed the back of his neck. “There’s weirder shit out there. But I’m not gonna go around telling anyone either. It’s a private thing. Just for you… and me, now, I guess."

He cleared his throat again. “I mean, if you want someone to, you know, take care of you when you need to be small.”

He’d never really planned on having anyone around when he was like this. But Leo was warm, like home, a safe place. And if someone else was watching him he could act on some of his more… wolfish urges again. Without the fear of reprimand or being muzzled.

A phantom tug eased around his mouth.

Mm. He’d resisted chewing his toys because he knew how easily he could tear into them. But Leo could ease them away from him before they were damaged beyond repair.

And, if he couldn’t, he could repair them without stabbing himself like Jason always would. He wasn’t a master at sewing but his nimble fingers made it easy whenever he had to.

And there were times when Jason was standing in his shower, distant memories of being sunk into a warm bath, someone washing his hair while he babbled on some nonsense. Probably Thalia if the memories were that vague.

He wouldn’t mind that happening again. Someone to hold him, take care of him. He’d spent so much time taking care of others. It would be nice to have someone else take care of him for a while.

“Sure,” he murmured. “If you want, that…” He smiled softly. “I’d like it.”

“Then just… let me know.” Leo kissed the back of his head again. “You’re doing so good on the picture by the way. I mean, I know I definitely suck at staying inside the lines.”

Jason giggled. “Can you…” He tucked his chin onto his knees and held the keys in front of Leo’s face. “Can you clink clink, please?”

There was an odd spark to Leo’s eyes that made his chest clench in worry but Leo just grinned wide and took the keys. He shook them out wildly, carefree.

Jason giggled again, ducking his face into his knees. Leo’s hand smoothed up his back.

“I am the master of the clink clink,” Leo crowed.

Jason snorted. His eyes squeezed shut, hands clenching at his sheets. “You’re so weird.”

“Mmm.” Leo ruffled his hair. A shudder passed down his back at the sensation - sweet, loving, something he’d seen done to literally everyone else but him. Familiar and kind, wasn’t it? “You want to watch a cartoon while you draw, Jaybird?”

Jason nodded. The clinking died down as Leo fiddled with his phone but as soon as he had it propped up against the back of Jason’s pencil case, it started up again. The chimes were soothing.

He closed his eyes and listened to it all - Leo’s breathing, the pulsing of his heart, the cling and clang of the keys chiming together and the intro to a Disney movie Jason had never heard of, Fantasia.

He went deeper.

Leo smelled like a campfire.

There was a citrus tang to the shampoo still clinging to his hair. Motor oil was faint on his hands. The scent of iron tools, like rust and blood, a sharp ting on his tongue, still clung to the grooves of his skin. He used them so much, it would be a miracle if the scent ever vanished.

“Jay?” His voice gently eases Jason out of his haze. “You okay?”

Jason nodded, shyly knocking his knees together. “Just smellin’ you.”

“Yeah?”

Jason nodded again, nervous. Wolf instincts and aerokinetic powers were not always something that people handled well. He hadn’t even told Piper or Leo that he used to seek them out in the early days, after they saved Juno and returned to camp and he was all alone in his cabin being smacked over the head with painful memories of quests and a war every other minute. He’d cling to their hands and listen to them breathe. It was comforting.

But it was also very, very weird. And a little voyeuristic in a way that wasn’t horrible but also was not that great either.

Leo hummed softly, stroking a hand over his shoulders. “What do I smell like?”

Jason closed his eyes and sank into Leo’s chest. Warm, safe, home. Someone he was always supposed to have in his life. He opened his eyes and watched the movie play ahead of him. Leo was still clinking away with the keys. His free hand was hot on Jason’s thigh. Morse code tapping against his skin. Something he and his mother used to do.

Jason sighed. “You smell like you. Forges and fire and safety.”

He snuggled deeper into Leo’s chest. “Thank you for taking care of me,” he murmured.

Leo smoothed his hand over Jason’s thigh before tapping away again. His smile was evident against Jason’s shoulder. “Ah, I’m just getting started, buddy.”

[slasherloony]

My au birthday fanfic for Jason voorhees!! Ft, my character Bethany!

It was June 13th, Jason Voorhees's birthday, and the sun was just starting to set over Camp Crystal Lake. The woods were silent, except for the occasional chirping of crickets. Jason stood by his cabin, looking out at the lake. His hulking figure, 8'2" tall, cast a long shadow over the ground.

Today was different. Today, Bethany was coming over.

Bethany was Jason's childhood friend, the only person who ever understood him. She was 5'3", a whirlwind of energy and words, with her ADHD making her brain run a million miles an hour. Despite her mental instability, she adored Jason, and he cherished her company.

Jason heard the familiar rustle of leaves and turned to see Bethany bounding through the trees, her wild hair flying behind her. She was carrying a bundle in her arms, wrapped in a blanket.

"Jason! Jason! Happy birthday!" she shouted, skidding to a stop in front of him. She had to crane her neck to look up at him, her head barely reaching his chest.

Jason gave her a small nod, his eyes crinkling slightly behind his hockey mask.

"You won't believe what I got you!" Bethany exclaimed, practically bouncing on her toes. "I found this cute little husky in my backyard! I thought, 'What a perfect gift for Jason!' So I brought him here for you!" She pulled back the blanket to reveal a squirming, furry pup.

Jason tilted his head, examining the pup closely. It had sharp eyes and a wild look about it. He realized it wasn't a husky at all—it was a wolf pup.

Bethany kept talking, her words spilling out in a rush. "Isn't he adorable? I named him Shadow because he's dark like the night and he's gonna be your best buddy! And don't worry, I'll help you take care of him. Oh, and I also brought some cookies! They're a bit burnt, but they're still good, I promise!"

Jason gently took the wolf pup from Bethany's arms, cradling it carefully. The pup yipped and licked his fingers, making Jason's heart soften. He looked down at Bethany, who was still chattering away, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Do you like him? I hope you do! I mean, I know it's not a normal birthday gift, but you're not exactly a normal guy, are you?" She giggled, looking up at him with pure affection.

Jason nodded again, a silent thank you in his eyes. He appreciated how Bethany always managed to bring a bit of chaos and warmth into his otherwise lonely life. He listened to her ramble on about her week, the wild dreams she'd had, and the adventures she imagined for them and Shadow.

As the sun set, casting a golden glow over the lake, Jason and Bethany sat together on the porch of his cabin. She leaned against his massive frame, munching on her slightly burnt cookies, while Jason petted the wolf pup in his lap.

For the first time in a long while, Jason felt a sense of peace. With Bethany by his side, talking a mile a minute, and the wolf pup curled up contentedly, it was the best birthday he could have ever hoped for.

Happy birthday, Jason.

Super short messy drawing of my character, jason, and the new pup.

[rosemaryslullaby]

hiii thanks for rbing my horror recs post! sorry it took a while but here's your recs! :)

based on rosemary's baby i'd recommend eraserhead (1977), mother! (2017), antichrist (2009) (very explicit violently and sexually, beware!), possession (1981) and titane (2021) which are all about struggling with (unwanted) parenthood or pregnancy.

based on saint maud i'd recommend you the lodge (2019), the first omen (2024), immaculate (2024), longlegs (2024), alucarda (1977), veronica (2017) and thelma (2017) about women struggling with themselves and religion. 

based on carrie i'd recommend may (2002), ginger snaps (2000), pearl (2022), stoker (2013), let the right one in (2008), the witch (2015) and bones and all (2022) about outcast girls looking to be loved and accepted.

based on the texas chainsaw massacre i'd recommend wolf creek (2005), house of 1000 corpses (2003), hatchet (2006), x (2022) and the loved ones (2009) because they're all nice and grimy and gritty and yucky.

i sadly haven't seen fire walk with me so i don't have recs for that! i really want to but if we have to wait for me to finish all of twin peaks first we'd be here all year. sorry!

based on hausu i'd recommend suspiria (1977), beetlejuice (1988), the love witch (2016), the cell (2000) and the rocky horror picture show (1975) because they have unique aesthetics that they really commit to, and tetsuo: the iron man (1989), brain damage (1988), possessor (2020), killer klowns from outer space (1988), the machine girl (2008) and videodrome (1983) because they're some of the more unhinged batshit insane movies i've seen.

based on scream i'd recommend urban legend (1998), behind the mask: the rise of leslie vernon (2006), house of wax (2005), you're next (2011), haunt (2019), the final girls (2015), totally killer (2023) and the cabin in the woods (2011) because they're all about (masked) killers starring cool female characters.

hope there's some you haven't seen yet! :)

oh my god!!! thank you so much this is amazing. and the fact that you even did recs for the ones i was just kind of rambling about in the tags. 🥺🫶🏽 there’s definitely quite a few i haven’t seen (and most of the recs that i have seen are some of my favs hehe i definitely trust your taste) so i’m gonna watch these as soon as u can aaaa i’m v excited :3

[indigosfindings]

i was gonna send a fire emoji but then i realized the thing i was going to ask was way too specific and i might as well just frame it as a question:

do you think there's space in modern horror for metatextuality that doesn't either come off as house of leaves "the metatextuality is so much bigger that it overshadows the horror" or come off as modern scream's "the metatextuality is an overdone chore at this point and we're saying the same things we've been saying about the horror movie medium since the 90's?

i love your work!

ok at long last here is my response (sorry for incoming rambling):

i have to voice two thoughts first to undergird my answer: first, i think if metatextuality isnt inevitable, it approaches inevitability--it's one of many ways that art reacts to its context: eg, a new "horror movie" or a "mystery story" etc can only be created in a world in which "the horror movie" and "the mystery story" and so on already exist in spades--the work has a relationship to existing conventions whether the artist wants to actively do it or not. either you overtly allude to & situate yourself relative to those conventions, or you don't (and end up situated relative to those conventions regardless!) ("how do you make a slasher movie for a world that knows exactly what to expect from slasher movies?" "by making one that knows that you know that!")

and second: metatext/metafiction can manifest sooo many different ways. metafiction as defence against sincerity, metafiction as idle subversion, metafiction as critique, metafiction as artistic device.

to actually address the question: i think that space must exist! a lot of metatextual horror that exists (especially recently) is wrongheaded, insincere, and/or self-aggrandizing, and i think THAT's the problem, not the metatextuality itself. (there's probably also something to be said for metatext being attractive to the artists & contexts who are likely to produce wrongheaded/insincere/self-aggrandizing art lol)

tldr: self-reference is a viable & versatile tool, the problem is when something is SO reflexive that it has no point of reference outside itself.

in terms of scariness, i don't think metatext is any more or less likely to detract from horror than any other ambition (comedy, commentary, mystery, drama, metaphor, etc). it's true that the cabin in the woods isnt scary, scream 5 isnt scary, etc, but plenty of horror works that are not meta at all arent scary either

it certainly doesnt help that a lot of metatextual art goes about it in the stupidest way possible. like, you doom yourself as soon as you try to squeeze horror out of saying the characters in the story are REAL!!!!!! because like...... no theyre not lol. (flashing back to the last horror movie, which quite literally ends with the killer looking into the camera and saying "im going to kill YOU irl!!!!!!!" like,,, suspension of disbelief can only carry you so far lmao)

my opinion is 100% tinted by the fact that i have a total soft spot for any art that toys with genre, form, and/or medium, but i don't even need to speak in the abstract: the wolf house, inland empire, and we're all going to the world's fair are all 21st century meta-horror movies that i love (and that are genuinely scary)!

(also the entire found footage genre is arguably metatextual, with all the attention that's drawn to the tools of film production. the best found footage films also question what's being omitted, what's happening when the camera is off)

[c-the-crazy-cat-lady]

Modern Geraskier AU

From the Tumblr prompt:Tumblr: Geralt lives in a cabin that he built himself in the middle of the woods and Jaskier it the inexperienced hiker that stumbles upon him. ***** “Good evening sir,” he started, “sorry to bother you at this hour but you see, I'm in need of some assistance. My friends and me were hiking and then that stupid Valdo thought he heard a wolf and he pushed me and ran. I fell, hurt my ankle. Then it started to rain and when I managed to get out of that hoke, I couldn’t find the path and my friends were gone. I walked, or more like hopped around until I stumbled upon this cabin. Saw the light. It’s so cold… please don’t stab me! I'm not ill intended. I just need some help… please?” Geralt blinked. The guy was rambling at such high speed that he barely managed to understand half of the words

[the-blind-one-speaks]

Preperations

Part 5

Hunter was irritated. He’d been kept from returning to the brooding site by his pup’s injuries, but he felt the itch to hunt, and a stronger instinct urging him to protect the cub from future threats. He knew how long a haunt could hibernate, knew that in the last two generations at least from what the townsfolk that had tormented him had said, there were no people that fell to the usual haunt issues. 

What he needed to know was what happened to the adult. Haunts were notoriously protective of their broods, and they seldom had only one offspring at a time. Even a haunt so… different from the rest of the species was unlikely to be abandoned. 

He knew there was little chance he would get answers. Two hundred years was a lot of time for tracks to be buried, after all. It would settle something in him, though, to scout out the place for himself. 

The pup was healing well, much faster with nightly feedings and time to bask beneath the moon. He still hadn’t spoken a word, but his little questioning clicks and trills conveyed what he was wanting clearly enough. The last injuries that lingered on him were the awful burn scars on his face, and even those were faint traces of discoloration on his pale skin. Hunter felt comfortable leaving him for a while; he would stock up some meals for the boy, make sure he had some good cuts of raw meat to gnaw on while he teethed, and make it clear that he was allowed into the gardens after nightfall. He needed to find a babysitter. His cub never liked waking up alone, even when he knew it was coming. 

He stroked thoughtfully through the boy’s curly chestnut hair. The cub still had no name; haunts never shared their names aloud -- not in a language anyone else understood, in any case. Although this was the first time Hunter had been around a haunt he wasn’t trying to kill, so maybe that was a him thing, not a haunt thing. Regardless, the pup didn’t seem to mind his terms of endearment, so they would stick with that. Now he just needs to introduce the little biter to someone willing to look after the child while he was away. 

The cub snuffled in his sleep, seeking out Hunter’s scent. He smiled down at the boy, scratching his scalp. A sleepy chatter rose from the cub’s throat, muffled by the way his cheek was squished into Hunter’s stomach. 

He was going to miss the boy. 

“Hunter! You so rarely leave your cabin. I haven’t seen you since your last mission report. How is your little house guest doing?” Cleff’s tone was full of curiosity, scent lightening as he saw the werewolf striding through the courtyard. 

Hunter grinned toothily, fangs on full display. He clapped him on the shoulder, nearly dislodging a book from the man’s overstuffed satchel. Without looking, he caught the tome in his palm and nudged it back into place. 

“You’re one to talk. Haven’t seen you for years on end, before. Finally visiting on a more regular schedule now that your initial survey of the mountains is done?” 

Cleff’s grey eyes crinkled as he smiled, old habit keeping it from becoming the wild grin Hunter knew he wore while in the wilderness. The castle courtyard was abuzz with movement, and the sounds of a busy keep tended to remind the man of his years in armor, dealing with strict regulations and a stricter code of conduct. He fell in step beside the wolf as they walked to the servant’s entrance near the kitchens. “You wouldn’t believe the properties of some of those plants! The high altitudes have altered them in ways I hadn’t considered before, let alone the way they interact with magics, and Brianna says they speak a different dialect than the plants here in the valley forests!” 

Hunter hummed, nodding along as the man rambled on, doing his best to make witty little quips and ask questions where he could. He had been in the mountains before; had lived there for years before descending into the valley, but his mind had been on things other than botany. Besides, though Cleff’s long blond hair was now streaked with grey, his face creased and weathered by his years of study in rough conditions, something about him still reminded Hunter of the quiet, determined teen that he had met all those years ago. In some ways, he would always be his first true friend, the first human to see something in Hunter beyond his strength and capability to kill. Spending time with the man was never a hardship. 

They sat in the corner of the kitchen that Cleff favored, until the man realized he had been going into a tangent that Hunter was struggling to follow. He laughed, shoving a finger in the wolf’s face, not even flinching when Hunter snapped his teeth -- which, rude. “You should have shut me up, old man! I know you can’t tell what the hell I’m saying when your ears sag like that.” 

“Shut up,” Hunter rumbled. “I was following you perfectly. Thunderberries is a great name for a bush borne fruit that sizzles on your tongue.” 

Cleff grimaced. “It really is not. The things we do for love,” he sighed. Hunter quirked a brow. 

“You could have told your nephew to pick something else.” 

“And reneged on my promise? Broken his little heart? He was eight years old, it could have been worse. That’s not what we were talking about though.” 

Hunter smirked a little. “Not what you were talking about, maybe. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” 

Cleff snorted, waving a hand. “It’s been eighteen years, Hunter. You should see him blush when I bring it up.” He turned his cup thoughtfully, falling silent, studying the wolf with the calculating look that had first caught Hunter’s attention. The werewolf sighed. No escaping it, he supposed. 

“I need a favor.” 

Cleff’s thin eyebrows shot up. The naked astonishment on his face almost overrode the embarrassment that surged up when Hunter uttered those words. It was a point of pride to be able to do things on his own; it had taken him nearly two and a half centuries to learn to accept support, let alone ask for it. Clarissa had been the one to finally get through to him. He still missed her. “There’s something I have to do, but the cub that I brought back -- he can’t be left alone. I’m headed back to where I found him, going to take a look around, and I won’t be able to bring him with me.” 

Cleff frowned, lifting his cup. He twirled it between his palms. “I don’t know anything about haunts, Hunter.” 

“That’s fine, because he isn’t one.” He relished in the scent of shock before adding, “Not fully, anyway. Think he might be half-human, only thing that makes sense. He won’t be any trouble to you.” 

“You said he was tortured for weeks before you picked him up. What makes you think he won’t run for the hills the moment he scents me coming?” 

Hunter snorted. “I know how to keep someone in one place, Cleff.” He cut the man a dark glance, fur bristling. “Need I remind you who I was when we first met?” 

“Certainly not someone who was asking me to babysit a nearly extinct human predator,” Cleff murmured. Hunter leaned back. He knew what Cleff’s answer would be. This was far from the worst Hunter had asked him to do over the years. The man still harbored a lot of self-doubt, especially when it came to attempting something new. Hunji had been a good man, but driving Cleff so hard for perfection when he was young was one of his major failings. There had been good reason for it, but still. They always had to do this song-and-dance when Hunter brought up something Cleff had never practiced before. In the end, the man’s unfailing curiosity would always win out, and thank the gods for it, or Cleff would never leave the apothecary. 

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?” Cleff’s tone was resigned. Hunter smirked. 

“Not longer than a week or so. Doubt I’ll find anything, but I can’t hold off any longer. It’s riding my ass, the urge to get out there and make sure that stretch is locked down. Probably be scouting a good twenty miles or so out from the brood nest to make sure he was the only one.” 

Cleff hesitated. “What if… he isn’t?” 

Hunter’s eyes flashed gold. He fell silent. He could almost feel the silk of colorless hair slipping through his fingers, could almost see the crimson hatred in his enemy’s eyes. He lifted his lip absently, baring one silver fang in a snarl. 

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” he murmured. Cleff nodded. They somehow ended up on the topic of blueberries and their properties in clothing dyes. 

In the back of his mind, that biting metallic scent lingered, half-remembered. 

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