#creature like me chapter one

[blooming-violets]

Creature Like Me || Chapter One: Solo Hunt

[TASM Peter Parker!Werewolf AU]

Summary: Kraven and his guild of hunters have been tracking and quelling the werewolf population for centuries. The time has come for Aylin to complete her first solo hunt to prove herself to the guild. It was supposed to be simple. One wolf, one death, one victory. She never expected to end up with a secret hostage on her hands. 

Chapter One Warnings: depictions of torture and starvation, depictions of a violent death, use of a gun, blood and gore, is it animal cruelty/animal death if the animal is a werewolf?? 

A/N: This is an OC but please keep an open mind, read a paragraph or two, before you completely write off the story because it doesn’t have a “reader” insert character. Her descriptions are fairly minimal and her name is important to the story. Pretend you’re someone else for little bit and get lost in a world that’s not your own. Isn’t that what writing is for anyway? xoxoKatie

[link to chapter index]

The morning sun beamed soft, white light through the canopy of branches to illuminate the fog settled against the dewy grass. She watched the light push away the dark shadows of the forest as she plucked a handful of blueberries out of her pocket and plopped a few into her mouth. Mornings were never her favorite despite their inherent beauty. She preferred the tranquility of the night with nothing but the glow of the moon to guide her. She kept her love for the moon to herself. Those were thoughts she wasn’t allowed to have. Her guild worshiped the sun for it was the werewolf’s natural enemy. The wolves drew their power from the moon. It made them stronger, enhanced their natural abilities, and turned them into fierce warriors. As a hunter of the beast, her guild found safety in the light, but used the cover of the dark to hunt their prey. They saw the dangers of the night where she only saw serenity. 

“Aylin,” a deep, gravely voice fell over her shoulder. “Are you preparing for your hunt tonight or are you daydreaming again?” 

Aylin wiped the growing scowl from her face, replacing it with a passive smile, before she turned to greet her intruder, “Sergei. Good morning to you, too.” She shoved the ziplock bag of berries back into her pocket and stood up, brushing off her damp bottom from the rotten log she was sitting on. “I’ve been preparing my whole life for my first solo hunt. There is not much else I can do but wait.” 

Tonight was the night she would become a full member of the hunting party. At 21, those with the talent would be given a test. They were to track down and successfully eliminate a single werewolf on their own. Up until now, she had been hunting with a group. She participated in helping kill a total of five wolves so far. Now it was time to prove that she could be of use on her own. It was the highest honor a young person could receive in the guild. 

Sergei ran a hand through his long, scraggly beard. His dark hair reached to his shoulders and hung in wild waves framing his square face. The black pelt of a werewolf hung like a shawl around his shoulders. As leader of the Silver Colt Guild, he held the respect of everyone under him. The Silver Colt’s history dated as far back as the first known existence of a werewolf. They’d been around for centuries, culling the werewolf problem the best they could before it ever reached the public eye. Sergei, known by his enemies as his alias Kraven the Hunter, inherited the guild from his father. He ran with an iron fist to keep his people safe. They were the outcasts of modern society, taking on the burden of protecting those they would never meet from the horrors of evil that walked among them. 

“Being prepared does not mean you are ready to complete the actual task,” he chastised her. “Going one to one with a wolf is harder than you could ever imagine. In their wolf form, they are ten times stronger than you could ever be. In their human form, they are the master of manipulation. They would say or do anything to keep you from slaughtering them. The second you let your guard down, they will strike. There will be no help to back you up. Failing means death. A beast won’t hesitate to rip you limb from limb. Mindless, heartless killers. They are not guided by morals. They will not hesitate. I don’t want to lose you tonight.”

Aylin held her tongue for fear of talking back. Sergei always got under her skin. Still, she believed he deserved the title of their leader and, therefore, was worthy of her respect. He was easily the best hunter of them all. He could take out a wolf with nothing but his bare hands. No one else was able to compete with his sheer strength. At times, he seemed almost like an enhanced human himself. She often wondered where he pulled his abilities from, though she would never dare question him. He was a good leader but a boastful one. His hubris clashed with her humbled outlook. Aylin had no need for cockiness. She believed one’s skills should silently speak for themselves. There was no need to talk herself up. She knew what she could do and that should be enough. 

“If you are successful tonight then I could see you entering as the frontrunner to become my protégé,” he raised his thick brows at her, as if that was supposed to be the most enticing offer of her lifetime. “Don’t let me down.”

The leader of the guild would always choose the strongest new hunter to personally train. She would be forced to move into Sergei and his wife’s home to study his every move. Whoever was chosen as the leader’s protégé would one day take over as leader themselves. Some of her peers would slaughter each other for the chance to claim that title. Aylin saw it as a chore. Calypso, Sergei’s wife, was someone she’d rather avoid. The woman could easily stand on her own with her husband but didn’t possess an ounce of empathy. She was cruel, boarding on psychopathic, and the thought of having to live under the same roof as her sent a bolt of dread through Aylin’s nerves. She had no desire to lead anyone, either. All she wanted was to sit in her quiet woods, undisturbed, but there was no point in arguing over a centuries old tradition. If Sergei chose her then that’s what she would have to do. 

“I think I’ll be alright. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been tracking this wolf for some time. She works as a night security guard up at the old Eagle Peak Camp. I’m not entirely sure what she’s guarding there but, whatever is, I’ll be sure to report back to you with what I find. I think it’s where a pack has been meeting. If I can get information on them, our guild could potentially eliminate an entire group in one go. She’ll be an easy enough target for my first solo hunt. There shouldn’t be any civilians around and there's a lot of places to take cover. All my weapons are prepped and ready. I’ve been training for months. I will come back with her silver pierced heart in my hand. I’m confident in this.” She straightened her spine as she spoke to appear taller than she was in an attempt to see eye to eye with Sergei. He towered over anyone he stood in front of and she didn’t like feeling small.  

He gave a light hearted chuckle and slung his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side, and dwarfing her against his large body, “I believe you. I’m the one who trained you, remember? I know you have the skill. Doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you anyway.” The coarse fur of the wolf pelt tumbling down his shoulders tickled her cheek as he held her close. “Your mother is looking for you. She made you breakfast. Let me walk you back to town and we can discuss your strategies for tonight once more.” 

Even as she stood crouched under the shadows of a large pine tree, Aylin silently trailed her fingers over each of her weapons. She’d taken count of each one about fifty times in the last hour but it still helped quell her nerves. The tree she took shelter under protected her from the downpour of rain as she raised her binoculars to observe her surroundings. Eagle Peak was once a bustling summer destination for hundreds of children, aged 6 to 16, to attend a four week camp program in the mountains. Their days were filled with non stop fun canoeing on the lake, hiking through the forests, singing around a campfire, and making a lifetime of memories. That was until the wolf incident of ‘74. Three campers were found torn apart, their cabin broken into, and their bloodied bodies dragged out into the forest. Their deaths were chalked up to a pack of rabid wolves which had wandered into camp. While the pack was never actually found, the camp still closed down. Children being mutilated while they slept didn’t send out a great impression to other potential camp goers. The Silver Colt’s knew the truth. It wasn’t rabid wolves. At least, not how the public perceived it to be. One of the counselors was a beast in disguise. He was slain by Sergei’s father in the summer of ‘75. Sergei still wears the necklace of claws his father made after tearing them from the counselor's paws before he drove a silver dagger into the beast’s blackened heart. 

The camp had sat abandoned for years, left for nature to reclaim, until a private owner bought out the land. That was when the suspicion began. Hikers were going missing more often than usual. Strange howls could be heard at night. A heavy sense of foreboding hovered in the night air. The werewolves were making a return and it was up to Aylin’s people to stop them. Tonight, she would start their quest by taking out the guard and retrieving as much information as she could. 

From the outskirts she couldn’t see much. She’d been staking out this location for weeks. Besides the patrolling woman, she never saw anyone else move around the camp while she was there, but it was clear that there was something worth guarding. She would need to infiltrate closer to get a better look. While the night rain ruined her views, the sound would help mask her footsteps. Werewolves had particularly precise hearing. Sergei purposely chose a rainy night for her first hunt and she would take any advantage she could get.

Aylin mentally planned out her route. The main lodge sat in a large clearing overlooking the lake. A crack of lightning pierced through the clouds and reflected off the darkened waters. It was the only source of light she would have tonight as the moon was blanketed behind the storm. Surrounding the lodge on either side was a small office building and a nurse’s station. The lavatories were a little ways behind the main lodge and, down a wooded dirt path, held the bulk of the camper’s cabins. According to her old map, they used to refer to the cabin’s sleeping area as the Whispering Pines. A boathouse sat on the lake, still fully stocked with rotting canoes. That was thirteen buildings in total. She would have to search each one before she returned home. Once her target was removed, it would allow her the time she needed to properly investigate for any details on the pack that roamed these areas.

Sierra Molina was who Aylin was currently searching for. A 28 year old, gorgeous woman with thick, long black hair who moved to upper New York three years ago. She started out as a model in the city, gaining a good amount of success, when she suddenly switched career paths. A successful model in the big city to a solitary, private security guard for an abandoned summer camp in the Adirondack Mountains could only mean one thing. She was a wolf. She wasn’t born one, she was bitten. That was Aylin’s theory, at least. It would have been hard for a wolf to have a career in the limelight. Wolves and cities don’t usually mix unless they’re using them as a hunting ground. That would mean, at some point three years ago, a wolf managed to find its way into the city. It was growing its pack and Sierra was merely a victim of the beast. Victim or not, she had to die. 

There was not much luck for Aylin tonight. She had yet to catch sight of the woman. The heavy storm was probably compelling her to keep shelter in one of the buildings. A light was on in the back of the main lodge so she placed her bets on that. She wouldn’t be able to take her out with an easy scope shot. She’d need to get in closer. 

Aylin took a deep inhale, preparing herself, and stepped out from the protective shadows of her pine tree. Her old leather boots lost traction as she descended down a slippery slope towards the main lodge. The grass turned to slick mud under her and she silently cursed as she felt the cold, wet dirt coat down her side as she skidded to a halt at the bottom. If anything, the mud might help hide her scent too, though it made it harder to grip her weapons. She did her best to wipe her hands off on her black combat pants before continuing. 

She kept her body ducked low while she gave a light jog towards the lodge. There wasn’t much she could do about the squelching mud under her feet. All she could hope for was that the rain hammering on the roof was loud enough to cover whatever sounds she couldn’t hide. The second she reached the lodge, she pressed her back against the dark wooden panels. Her hand grabbed behind her to pull the crossbow from her back. She carefully loaded it with a silver tipped arrow, letting the rumbling thunder overhead mask the sounds. The crossbow was her weapon of choice. It was fast, powerful, and quieter than a gun. Unlike the colt revolver strapped to her thigh, she had more stealth advantages with this. The gun was for the final blow if she needed the added weight and her dagger was her very last chance of survival should things come down to hand to hand combat. She was no Sergei. Her strengths lay in long range and stealth. 

Aylin moved along the length of the outer wall until she was perched under a cracked open window. From inside, she could hear someone moving around. The smell of cooking chicken hit her nose. This must be the kitchen of the lodge and where her target was taking shelter. 

Sierra spoke to someone inside as she banged around the room, slamming cabinets in her wake, “I think he needs more food. The man is wasting away. Kateri hardly ever feeds him. I don’t know how she expects him to keep on giving her what she wants if he’s nothing but skin and bone.” 

She waited, listening for a secondary person to reply. When she heard none, it gave her the confidence to know that Sierra was still the only here. She was on the phone. 

“Yeah, I know it keeps him weak, but it’s also killing him. Call me crazy but I actually feel sorry for the bastard. I’m the one who ends up having to take care of him. He’s not my pet! If she’s so obsessed with him, you’d think she would actually take better care of him. It wouldn’t hurt to bathe him either. He’s starting to really stink. I wish Kateri would actually do something about that. The whole cabin is disgusting. I hate having to go in there.” The name Kateri was new to her but, the way Sierra talked about her, made it seem like she was the one who called the shots. The name of the pack's potential alpha. “Maybe I’ll let him run around in the rain for a bit. Let the storm hose him down.” Sierra laughed, “I’m joking! Calm down. I’m not going to let him out. He wouldn’t know what to do out of chains anyway. Kat’s got him fully conditioned to be her omega bitch.”

Aylin silently shifted her crossbow to get a better feel for it in her hands. Her curiosity peaked at the thought of who they were speaking about. It sounded as if they currently had someone hostage. She didn't dare peak through the open window for fear of being seen. 

“I cooked him some chicken. Kat can scream about it all she wants. He needs the protein. I didn’t even season it or anything. Just straight up dry chicken. What’s sad is that it’ll probably be the best damn meal he’s had in a year. Better than the dog food she’s been forcing him to eat.” The sound of her zipping up a bag reached Aylin’s ears. She was getting ready to move. “I’m going to even brave the rain for this loser. See? I’m not a heartless bitch after all. Who would have guessed? I’ll talk to you later, babes, once I’m back inside. See ya.” 

The sound of Sierra's footsteps disappearing followed the end of the phone call. This was her chance to move. Aylin crept around the side of the building, crossbow held up at the ready in front of her. She watched from the shadows as Sierra popped out the door and into the rain. Her peripheral vision was covered by the large, dark green hood of her rain jacket pulled loosely  over her head. She wore a black bag over her shoulder as she jogged towards the Whispering Pines. She had no idea that she was now actively being hunted.

Aylin’s  heart began to race as she trailed after her prey. When she joined the hunting party on their excursion to take out other wolves, they had already been in wolf form by the time she caught sight of them. Large, raggedy, snarling beasts. Blood had dripped from their jowls and matted into their wild, unkempt fur. They had been untamed, savage, violent creatures. It was easy to see them as a predator in need of putting down. They weren’t human. 

Sierra Molina was human. At least, how she looked now. A beautiful woman trying to make it big as a model. Her dreams of the future were snatched from her at the hands of true evil. She was dragged up to the mountains and forced into a new life. She ran through the rain, her shoulders hunched up in her oversized coat, her body shivering from the cold, to bring food to whatever neglected hostage her alpha had locked up. She was going against her orders to feed the poor soul. An act of kindness. A very human act. 

Her stomach ached at the thought of having to look this woman in the eyes as she killed her. She’d rather her be a wolf. It would be more dangerous but slaughtering an animal was better than murdering a human. The reality of what she was about to do came crashing down around her. The fear set in. 

Aylin slowed her pace, ducking behind a tree. Sergei was right, the rain would help easily conceal her from all sounds and smells. Sierra had no idea she was being followed. It felt almost unfair. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to do this anymore. She was born into this life. Raised to be a killer. It should be easy. She shouldn’t be this sacred. Fear and doubt were weaknesses. Those weaknesses should have been beaten out of her as a child yet they somehow still prevailed, stronger than ever. 

As her prey approached the last cabin along the path, the one tucked further back into the forest than the rest, Aylin raised her crossbow and took aim. There was no time for over thinking or panic. She had to act on instinct. This was her moment. It was now or never. She couldn’t return home without a wolf’s heart in her hand. She couldn’t fail her people. 

This was it. 

The familiar, loud thwip of the bolt leaving its home echoed off the trees. Before Sierra even had time to react to the sound, the silver tip buried itself straight into her lower spine with a sickly, crunching thud of bones being ripped apart. She dropped hard and fast. Crumbled to the ground in a heap, her bag slipping from her shoulders to fall beside her broken body. Her piercing howl of pain filled the air. Aylin made quick work to start loading up the next bolt while she still had the element of surprise on her side. 

“My legs,” Sierra cried out. “I can’t feel my legs! I can’t move them. Please. Help! Someone help!”  Her pleas for rescue were useless. There was nobody around to listen but Aylin. Her body flopped onto her side, teary, terrified eyes desperately searching for her assailant. “Who are you? What do you want?! What have you done? You-” 

Aylin approached, a black cowl mask hiding her lower face, and the end of the crossbow pointed at the other woman. Her target was in sight but she wasn’t ready to pull the final trigger just yet. She wanted her to turn. She needed to see the beast before she took her life. It was the only way she'd be able to follow through. 

Sierra caught sight of the golden, rising sun emblem carefully stitched into Aylin’s dark jacket. Realization flashed across her spasming face, contorting between pain and fury, “You.” Her voice lowered into a dangerous rumble. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Her words spit like fire out of her mouth. “That sun. You’re one of Kraven’s hunters! Kateri said you would come eventually. You have no idea how this will end for you. You have no idea what you’re walking into!” 

A low, threatening growl thundered in the back of her throat. It was followed by a quieter whimper like she knew how this was going to end for her. She was scared. A cornered animal ready to go down fighting. Death was the only future she held. Her pupils began to stretch, causing her tawny colored eyes to fill with a voidless obsidian until there were no remnants of her human soul. The growl grew deeper, more animalistic, as she started to shift. 

“That’s it,” Aylin whispered to herself. “Turn for me. Show me who you really are.” 

Like a firework bursting in the night sky, Sierra’s body exploded into a massive wolf with an angry howl, sending shreds of her green rain jacket and a spray of water droplets flying into the air. She nearly tripled in size. Silky, jet black fur, as beautiful as her own head of hair, settled down into place as her transformation completed. Saliva clung to her thick, pointed ivory teeth, black lips pulled back into a snarl, and her ears pressed flat against her skull. Steam puffed from her panting jaws, highlighting the chill in the air. She was savage. Desperate. Ready to kill. Her blackened sights set directly onto Aylin. 

This was the beast she was ready to hunt. This was exactly what she had trained for. Sierra Molina no longer existed. In her place was a raging, furious wolf ready to be slain. There was no more need for humanity for she was not human. A hunter and her prey. A tale as old as time. 

Sierra’s hind quarters remained crumbled under the weight of her body like a stray dog who had been hit by a car. They were as useless to her in wolf form as they were to her as a human. Aylin had managed to sever her spine with her first hit, rendering her weaker and taking away some of her power. It didn’t make her any less dangerous, though. She lunged at the younger girl, thrusting her massive body down the muddy path towards her as claps of loud thunder cheered on the upcoming fight. The muscular power of her front legs dragged her forward in jerky, pained movements, back legs dangling helplessly behind her. The coarse fur of her hackles stood on end. Teeth bared. She was ready to die fighting. 

Aylin released the trigger. The bolt shot out like a bullet and lodged itself deep into her foe's shoulder. The silver tip sizzled in her thick skin, the metal burning into her flesh. She doubled over with a howled cry, whipping her enlarged head back and forth in an attempt to reach the burning arrow piercing her skin with her long snout. While she fought with the pain, Aylin quickly tried to reload her bow. She had the arrow half way in, foot holding down the stirrup, and desperately trying to force the strong string back into position when Sierra noticed she was distracted. Ignoring the searing pain in her shoulder and crippled back legs, she lunged herself at Aylin. 

The force knocked her to the ground, tossing her bow off to the side, and pushing the air out of her lungs. The heavy weight of the wolf pressed down on her chest. The smell of wet dog filled her nostrils as Sierra leered down over her. Steamy, hot breath blew in her face. Black, leathery lips pulled back to reveal snarling teeth. For a breathless moment, Sierra thought she had the upper hand. 

And then a loud, cracking pop rang out, breaking the wooded silence, sending a flurry of terrified birds out of the trees and straight to the stormy sky.

In Aylin’s hand was the colt revolver, slipped out from her thigh harness, already prepped and loaded with silver bullets, now pointed directly under the wolf’s jaw. 

The bullet shot straight through Sierra’s thick skull, ripping through her brain, and forcing a bloody exit out the other end. A cloud of misty, hot crimson rained down onto Aylin’s face. Bits of fleshy brain matter scattered to the ground around her. A sharp fragment of Sierra’s rose tinted skull bounced off her forehead, slicing her skin, and tumbled into the mud. The wolf went completely still, the life snuffed straight out of her, as her heavy body slumped on top of Aylin, pinning her in place. 

The silence that followed was deafening. Not even the rumbling thunder or shower of rain seemed to dare make noise. All she could hear was the ringing in her ears. The echo of the gunshot reverberating inside her skull. 

Her heart was racing. Her lungs struggled to breath under the weight on top of her. Her mind desperately tried to catch up with the events that just unfolded. 

Her first solo hunt. Her first kill. 

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, protected from the shower of blood thanks to her mask. The rain slowly washed the rest of the red from her vision. 

She had done it. 

She had killed a werewolf. 

She was alive. She was the victor. 

Aylin let out a grunt, grasping a fistful of Sierra’s fur in her shaky hands, as she wiggled her body out from under the enormous carcass. The slippery mud helped assist her as she slid her legs out of the furry prison. Her clothes were soaked through. Mud, rain, and blood all mixed together to seep into her frozen skin. She forced herself onto her feet and took a stumbled step backwards to examine her work. 

Sierra remained in wolf form after her death. They rarely ever changed back once their life was gone. Despite her blown open skull, she looked rather peaceful. Cute, even, if you looked from the right angles. Like a giant, sleeping puppy. They were beautiful creatures, werewolves. It was hard not to respect their strength and power. Sierra still nearly got the upper hand even with her paralyzed hind legs and silver burning her flesh. If it hadn’t been for the colt, she probably would have won. 

Death suited her, Aylin concluded. 

She turned from the corpse to pick up her crossbow off the ground and slung it back over her shoulder. She took a moment to gather herself, both her racing thoughts and her scattered belonging, before she attempted to continue. The adrenaline coursing through her veins made it difficult to think straight. The wolf was dead, the major threat eliminated, but there was still work that needed to be done. Cabins needed to be searched. Clues needed to be found. And a heart needed to be cut out as proof of her win. 

Aylin shuffled over to the bag Sierra had dropped. It lay at the bottom steps of the smallest cabin. A simple, faded, forest green wooden shack. While the other sleeping quarters looked like they could hold at least ten people total, this one could probably only handle four. She bent down to unzip the bag. A clear tupperware of cooked chicken, a bottle of water, and a ring full of keys were all that remained inside. Aylin glanced up to the cabin. That was where Sierra was headed to deliver the dinner. That was where they were keeping their pet. 

She snatched up the ring of keys and made her accent up the rotting wooden stairs. A screen door filled with holes stood in front of her. Behind it was another, solid metal door. It looked out of place, newer than everything else, as if someone had specifically installed it within the past year. A heavy padded lock bolted it shut. The kind of lock meant to keep something in. She tested out each key until she found the perfect fit. The lock popped open and she slid over the dead bolt, allowing the door to slowly creak open, unsure of what she would find on the other side.

The thick stench of musty sweat hit her nose as her eyes adjusted to the dark. It was pitch black inside. The windows had been boarded up and covered with heavy, old blankets. They would keep out the light and help dampen any noise. A set of two wooden bunk beds stood on opposite sides of the walls, built straight into the floor, but Aylin’s attention sought to what was chained between them. 

A man was naked, crouched on his knees, back curved forward, and head hung low. He was facing the blank wall across from her. His arms hung up above his head and stretched out to the side, forced into place by the bulky chains around each wrist. The sickly pale skin under the wide cuffs was rubbed raw. A trickle of dried blood caked down his forearm. His back was covered in a myriad of scars. Welts from a whip. Some new. Some old. All painful. She could see the perfect ridge of his spine protruding from under the scarred skin, each vertebrae clearly on display. The marks of a starving, tortured man. 

He head jerked to the side when he heard the creak of the floorboard as she took another step inside. His hair was down to his shoulders and hung in wild, greasy, matted stands. His skin was speckled with dirt and old, dried blood. Wheezing breaths struggled out his lungs. 

Aylin breathed through her mouth, trying to keep her nose blocked from the horrible smell wafting off of him. The closer she got, the worse it became. Not even her mask could help block the smell. He had been locked in this room for a long time, rotting away with no flow of air, no sunlight, nothing.  

“What have they done to you?” She whispered, horrified by what she was seeing. “Who are you?” 

The sounds of shifting chains filled the quiet shack as he came more alert. She stayed in the shadows behind him, just out of his eye sight while he tried to crane his head around to see who was speaking. This was a new voice, one unfamiliar to him. 

“Who are you?” He croaked. His voice was deep and scratchy like a rusty tool he no longer had any use for. 

“I asked you first.” She listened to the sound of the rain hammering against the wooden roof. It helped soothe the quickened pace of her heart. “Are you one of them? Do you…belong to them?” A pet. That’s what Sierra had called him. 

She had only been taught how to kill wolves, not what to do when she encountered a hostage they were keeping. This was new, uncharted territory. Sergei would probably want her to kill him and move on with her task, get home safe without any added baggage. Her mother would tell her to free the starving man and find him help, her humanity being more important than a flawless hunt. She chewed on her lip, silently weighing her options. 

The man gave a breathy, weak laugh. It sounded dark and ominous. 

“I…belong to them…yes.” He hesitated, defeat dripping in his tone. “Are you here to kill me? Please say yes.” 

Aylin swallowed, unsure. Was she? Her hand was clutched to the hilt of her knife. He could be dangerous. Or useful. There had to be a reason why a pack of wolves had him locked up. He belonged to them but was he one of them? It didn’t sound like he was part of the pack. A rival, maybe? Whoever he was, he wanted to die. He wanted her to kill him. Her heart sank in her chest. He looked so weak. His head had fallen back against his slumped over chest, his neck unable to support it upright for long. They had tortured him, starved him, until he was a broken shell. 

She took a deep breath and pulled her knife from the holster. He shuddered at the sound. She held it at the ready as she crept closer, ducking under one of his chains, to stand directly in front of him. He lifted his tired head to look at her. Her eyes widened at the horrors. Gaunt, pale cheeks caked in dirt. Untamed, wild hair like a mane framing his skeletal face. Dark, sagging circles embedded around hollow, red tinted eyes. His scraggly chestnut beard stuck out in all directions to hide his dry, chapped, pale lips. Every rib stood out against his grimy chest. She forced her eyes from traveling down any further, wanting to allow the naked man whatever shred of dignity he had left. 

“Well?” He asked again, watery eyes boring into her. “Are you going to kill me or not?” 

Aylin locked her gaze with his. It was the look of hope that softened his sharp features that simultaneously broke her heart and made up her mind. 

“No,” she declared. 

She couldn’t kill him. She didn’t care who he was or what he had done. Anyone chained up and begging for death deserved a second chance. 

A frown darkened his sweat dripped brow, “You're a hunter, aren’t you? I know that symbol on your coat. I heard you outside. You killed Sierra. That’s what you do. You kill werewolves.” 

Aylin nodded, “Yes.” 

“Then kill me,” he stated. The finality of his statement settled in the stale air around them. 

He was a werewolf. 

She should kill him. She should hate him. She should claim his life as a second victory. Two for one. It would secure her spot as Sergei’s protégé. She would be revered as a hero. A future candidate to lead the Silver Colts. Her destiny would be written in stone. 

Which was exactly why she wouldn’t. 

When she didn’t respond, he clenched his jaw, anger flashing across his broken eyes, “Kill me! I’m one of them! Do what you’re supposed to do and kill me!” He threw himself at where she stood, unflinching. The chains caught him before he could reach her and yanked him back into place as a sob escaped him. The fight immediately left his body. He was too weak. He curled up as best as he could with his arms hung weakly above his head. He let out a pathetic whimper. “Please…do it…please…” He whined. “Please. Help me. Make it end. Let it be over.”

He was a werewolf. A predator. A freak of nature. The one thing she was supposed to despise most in this world. Her enemy. The one she vowed to eliminate even if it cost her own life. She was raised to do this. Raised to be a killer. 

“No,” she whispered. 

It’s not a fair fight. He was too weak. Bound to chains. Already beaten into submission. She’d have to be a monster to pierce his heart now. He was supposed to be the monster. Not her. The plans of what to do next began swirling around in her mind. Crazy, ridiculous, unheard of plans. 

Aylin slipped her knife back into its holster. She had made up her mind. She was going to take him. Steal him from the pack. Bring him back with her. Hide him away from her people. Use him to get information. He was weak enough that she could control him. In the state he was in, his fragile mind could be easily manipulated. It was insane, yes, but it was her plan and her mind was set on it. 

The ring of keys were still stuck inside the lock of the door. She ducked back under his arm chain and retrieved them, starting to test each key until she found the right one, while he studied her with a quiet, sleepy, curiosity. She carefully unlocked each cuff, setting him loose. 

The wolf man fell to the ground the second his arms were free. He crumpled into the fetal position, chest heaving, unable to do much more in his feeble state. Aylin squatted down in front him. His knees were more raw than his wrists, almost worn down to the bone, as if he had to spend most of his time on them. It was then that she noticed his pelvic region. She only took notice because it stood out. While the rest of him was covered in grime, his pelvis was meticulously clean. Spotless. Perfectly cleared of any dirt, sweat, or blood. She couldn’t see anything more revealing as he tucked into himself but it was an odd observation, the kind that made her stomach lurch. Whoever Kateri was, she only seemed to care about one specific part of him. This hostage had a purpose. One she was going to take away from them. Cut off their supply and use him to lure them out into the open. 

He was the key to eliminating the entire pack. 

“What’s your name?” She asked softly. She could pretend to be nice, gain his trust, have him work for her. She could use him to bend her guild in the right direction. Think of all the information that could be learned by having an actual werewolf on their side. 

He peaked his eyes out at her, his lids hanging heavy like he hadn’t slept in days, “It’s-” He hesitated, having to think, to try and remember that part of himself. A part he lost long ago. “Uh, it's…Peter….yeah, that’s it. Peter.” Even though he was free, he made no attempts to move. Completely broken like an abused, unleashed dog sticking close to his master because he knew of nothing else. Kindness didn’t exist in his world. All he knew was pain and suffering. 

She reached out her hand, gently placing it against his cheek, even as he flinched and cowered away, she held steady, “I’m not going to hurt you, Peter.” She removed her hand from his scraggly beard and tugged down the dark cowl and mask to reveal the rest of her face for him to see, “My name is Aylin. I am a hunter but not to you. You no longer belong to these sadistic people. Now, you belong to me.” 

[Chapter Two]

A/N: A reblog will automatically put you onto the chapter two tag list. If you enjoyed what you read, please leave a comment! It would make this writer very happy and more likely to continue writing. I hope you have a lovely night/evening/morning/afternoon/day. 

Tag List: @liz-allyn @mrshipsmcgee @sincericida @moonyslove78​

[keferon]

*clasps your shoulders gently and looks you straight in the eye*

Keferon. Please read Ninth by Kyn on AO3. I think you would love it very much. It has a large chapter count, but don't be intimidated, it's very easy to get into. It is currently unfinished, but is being updated regularly.

You are the seventh person that recommended this fic to me so ahahahaha yeah

I’m doing great Help I hate some parts of it but I love the other parts I’m spinning in the blender

…..I made the moodboard….

[vynnyal]

This is a pretty good point in the wip to share this, methinks :]

Map part for the hole dwelling map, starring... Not my ocs! I wanted to use ocs, but I don't have any-- so I just used the characters from a fic I was reading at the time 😂

Turns out, the symbolism was so much fun to twist into the 11 seconds I had to work with, I ended up going way more complex than I meant to. If you wanna read the fic this was based on, please do!! And tell the author I said hi! :D

[nightseeye]

Thinkin abt the rlly small toys in poppy playtime,,, bein small is prob stressful as FUCK, esp toys that arent massively popular and r thus mass produced (huggies) or are part of a group toyline (critters)

And even then upper levels r probably somewhat (relatively) safe to go solo or in pairs on, but the lower u get u either gotta go in a swarm or follow a stronger more powerful toy

Mostly just thinkin bout how fucked up the critters (and by extent the mini game huggies on mommy's floor) are. Like yeah theyre probably fucked up and evil and yeah they wore dogday like a skinsuit but its prob scary af to have to follow the likes of catnap. Homie is NOT stable, ya never know who's ending up on that (presumably) sacrificial shrine next

[possum-quesadilla]

I was going to post my sona as that ‘cat surrounded by knives’ meme since that is the vibe that is happenin rn, but I can’t pick which of these old designs I like better

[vazaez]

Two unrelated (and inconsistent) wips/doodles bc ive been rotating these two in my brain lately and i'm desperate for content even if i gotta make it myself

[clegfly]

Small thing I’m cooking for idksomethingclever99’s fic MITPP!! For some reason I’m having trouble tagging them but here’s the fic!!

This seemed fun to do… probably won’t get more done than this page though…

[velvetjune]

it took an embarrassingly long time for me to realize that the book annihilation was going to be nothing like the movie

[keeps-ache]

in a cafe rn. this place is nice :>

[uefb]

New fic (2 chapters up!): Hope is the thing with feathers x

Summary: The month before the invasion of Normandy (D-Day), Newt Scamander is spotted working suspicious magic near a meeting of Muggle and Wizarding political leaders in London. The problem, of course, is that Newt Scamander is nowhere near London but, instead, over 14,000 kilometers away in the middle of the Pacific. But "desperate times call for desperate measures" (and even Tina and Theseus aren't entirely above scrutiny this go round), so Newt finds himself rather unsurprisingly compromised. // As usual, everyone else is dismayed to find Dumbledore may or may not have a plan at all, while the clock on Newt's life—-and the joint Muggle-Wizard military action years in the making—-begins to quickly tick.

Chapter 1 opening scene:

Wednesday, May 3, 1944 / Seatown, Dorset, England, UK

Porpentina Goldstein Scamander prided herself on being somewhat unflappable, but her brother-in-law grabbing her by the arm as she emerged from St. Mungo’s with her daughter before spinning them off in a whirl of apparition was certainly not on the list of things she had been expecting to encounter on her day off... A vomiting child, a misbehaving diricawl—even an absent husband or Muggle airstrike—she’d prepared for, but this?

Well, suffice it to say, she definitely blamed nearly bursting into tears after smacking Theseus upside the head upon their rematerialization in Dorset on the exhaustion inherent to solo-parenting an ill toddler.

“What the hell, Theseus?!”

But Theseus only shushed her, dragged her and Leora—who was understandably wailing in displeasure at the surprise apparition—up the back-steps of the Scamander Goldstein farmhouse, before gingerly disentangling her arms from Leora while shouting for Queenie and Jacob. It was, however, a broadly grinning, 9-year-old Gideon who came pounding into the room, before he took one look at his uncle’s face and immediately ran out the front door to the beach, screaming for his parents.

“I swear to high heaven, Theseus Scamander—what is going on?!”

Theseus bounced Leora on his hip and wordlessly summoned a plush toy from her room to distract her (a niffler made by Queenie for her birthday) as he focused on Tina intently. “You remember how we made that little emergency plan last year? After Newt was bitten by that kelpie—”

“Moira,” Tina supplied absently.

“Yes, Moira — and then he was criminally charged with all sorts of made-up things by that rat in his own department, which put our entire task force’s security at risk?”

“Yes,” said Tina with a suspicious frown, and she reached out to take Leora back from her uncle, crossing to the kitchen for the small refrigerator, where she pulled out a pyrex container of fruit Newt had chopped and charmed for freshness before he’d left to travel.

Theseus stared at her as if waiting for the other shoe to drop and—after a moment—it abruptly did.

“Now, wait a second—”

She summoned the pair of child-sized earmuffs Lally had made to silence adult voices and shoved them onto Leora’s head before settling her in a high chair and dumping the fruit out on its tray. Leora began talking to herself as she played with the fruit, and when Tina looked back to him, Theseus was grimacing.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Unfortunately not, sister mine…” he answered grimly.

“Is this all because of the thing last year, then?”

“More like the thing next month, but seeing as that’s also related… Yes.”

Tina peered out the window to check if Queenie and Jacob were responding to their son’s summons yet, but the only thing in sight was one of Newt’s half-trained half-kneazles innocently gamboling through the grasses (though a mildly predatory look flitted across its face). X

[custom-whats]

At this point I’m less excited for the next tes game because it’s a tes game and more excited for the potential for cool followers/super indulgent references to old ones

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads // twitter thread    

A Day of Fallen Night

slow character focused epic fantasy prequel to priory of the orange tree

set during the grief of ages, when Wyrms are on the rise and devastating cities across the world

the teen heir to the throne, a middle-aged tomb keeper at the priory, a young warrior from the north, and princess from the mountains of the east

motherhood, survival, politics

[secretagent9]

need to get my MiA thoughts out somewhere because i’ve been thinking about it again and i have so few people to discuss it with (read: my singular friend who’s already heard my impassioned mini-rants after we finished watching the most recent season together).

children! they’re weak and fragile and completely and utterly powerless, and yet they’re also full of so much inner strength that they can overcome practically anything! perfectly exemplified by how riko and co. have managed to not only survive, but also continue on their journey despite the overwhelming odds stacked against them! riko’s unflinching optimism in the face of unspeakable horrors! reg’s enduring kindness and empathy! nanachi’s wit and resourcefulness! these three have made it further than hundreds of maybe thousands of people from all around the world, and they’re all like 10-12 years old!! probably. i’m not actually sure; i could look it up but i’m always afraid of googling MiA and getting spoiled somehow ahsdjakl

i mean, just going into the abyss is a death sentence in and of itself. the abyss being this strange, beautiful world that ultimately doesn’t give two shits about the fact that they’re children, because nothing does! being young doesn’t protect them! people look at them and pity them but won’t shield them from the horrors of the world because they’re unavoidable! especially for children! because this is a world that values children as a resource, one that’s as precious as it is fairly easy to come by! because cave raiders keep heading into the abyss and dying and leaving their children behind with nothing to do but follow in their footsteps! because the abyss is just filled to bursting with all sorts of wonderful treasures and children are taught to risk their lives to get their hands on as much as they can! for money and fame and glory!

they’re taken advantage of! in so many ways! by the adults that are supposed to be caring for them and protecting them! because they’re not seen as people, they’re seen as things, to be used and gotten rid of when they’re no longer useful! only there’s always a use for them because they’re so expendable and because people value them so much and yet so little that you’ve got guys like bondrewd going around, scooping up as many orphans as he can carry to take them down into the abyss and experiment on them as much as he damn well pleases! even though, in his own twisted way, he actually cares for those children, he’s still using them for his own selfish gain.

and children have so much untapped potential! they’re the only ones that can use those special-grade relics; those “cradles of desire” will only grant their wishes, but it grants them in the worst possible ways! because how deeply might a child understand their own wants, their own desires? especially when they’re dealing with forces that no one truly understands?

children are as blessed as they are cursed! just by virtue of being children! in a world that won’t show them a single ounce of mercy! a world that robs them of every scrap of innocence they have! but that innocence doubles as a well of power that’s unlike any other! a great and terrible power!!

[goldiipond]

this is my favorite unnamed side character in tpn she only appears in rays side chapter and the only canon info we have on her is her identification number and the year she died

[icannotgetoverbirds]

fanfic hell (/pos)

For those of you wondering what my brain's been chewing on for the past few months. I present to you my incredibly long fanfic.

How long, you may be wondering if you haven't seen the other post?

The low estimate is 154-253.5k.

The more accurate estimates are at about 308-338k.

The most generous estimates could be up to about 507k (assuming the intended goal of 169 chapters is reached).

For reference, Gone With The Wind tops out at just under 420k (haha nice).

Why? Why am I doing this? The answer is, I don't know.

Something about this story just has my brain chewing and chewing and chewing like an overdone but delicious steak that keeps giving you more and more flavor as you chew it.

Every time I think the plot's going to thin out and I'm going to have to give up or shorten this, my brain spits out more plot points to happen.

I have so many fucking notes and a decently well-documented source material to work with (the SDV wiki is pretty extensive).

Even the documentation of the source material that already exists isn't extensive enough for how ridiculously in-detail I'm going - so I'm spending at LEAST 6 fucking hours using a mod to record NPC paths, which I'll then manually input into those spreadsheets I was talking about. Some NPCs are going to get more content than the original source material gave them, so their schedules are going to have to be generated from scratch.

Mind you, this whole fic starts a year before the PCs even arrive. So not only do I have to figure out schedules for things that happen before the events of the game (such as Abigail exploring the farm and Elliott moving in), but I have to adjust schedules for Year 1 (or 2 depending on how you look at it) according to deviations from the source material.

Y'all can probably find this if you look hard enough for it, the first 8 (correction: 9) chapters are published on AO3 and I've been talking about some of the details on both my AO3 and my Tumblr account. The fic tags need updating since some new developments happened - I'll get to that eventually.

Anyways, those little lines and dots are just to indicate that Jackson and Apollo are both farmers. Yes, Apollo is a woman, despite her name. fuck your gender roles and gendered names she does what she wants. Yes, Maru is non-binary, because why the fuck not. Yes, Haley's trans because fuck the police.

[libraryleopard]

Adult standalone urban fantasy novel

In an alternate version of present-day Vancouver inhabited by the reincarnated Knights of the Round Table and other figures from myth and folklore, a college student from an Arthurian family and a valkyrie both become entangled in a murder investigation

Gay autistic main character with anxiety; bi ace main character; M/M + F/F romances; Chinese Canadian trans girl side character