#dire wolfsbane

[skelesune-kitston]

Amber's Introduction! + DTIYS!

Refs!

Facts!

-Foxgender

-Aged 27 when not regressed

-A self-insert

-Age regressor, regresses to 1-9

-Lives in Foresttale (Magicverse's Haventale)

-Uses They/Them ONLY

-Has an older brother named Dire Wolfsbane

-An Outcode from Underhunt (an AU where Monsters are animals in forests that get hunted by humans)

-Based on Kitsunes from Japanese folklore

-Autistic

-Has ghost magic due to their SOUL

-Mute, fully mute, they were born like this, they use sign language or their little ghosties to talk to others

-Is 4'6 (average Skelesune/Kitston height)

SOUL!

SOUL of PASSION: People w/ this SOUL rely heavily on relationships, they are very passionate about bonding with others and passionate about magic and the dead, mainly helping lost SOULs finding a reaper to bring them to peace, their SOULs come from the SOULs of FEAR (From Bettie Noirs) and HOPE (From Deities of Life), the FEAR part is why they care about death, the HOPE part is why they care about relationships

Stats!

HP: 50

DEF: 5

AT: 2

Relationship Chart!

Dire Wolfsbane: Older brother - Good relationship

Fresh "Sans": Boyfriend - Wonderful relationship

Yusebi & Medi: Saviors - Follower relationship

Humans: Hunters - Horrible relationship

More to be added...

Credits!

OC Ref Template: twinskitty on DeviantArt

Detailed Skeleton Base: BushBabyOrigins on MediBang

Chibi Ecto Base: KurilianCharlie on DeviantArt

DTIYS!

There's no limit! And no prizes! This is just a silly prompt for anyone interested!

Tag me in the post if you draw this!

Amber & Fresh kissing, cuddling or doing something romantic, hell even a family photo w/ ship kids or a wedding pic is fine!

[the-dendrophile-bookdragon]

Meet me in the Woods

Pairing: Robb Stark x fem!werewolf!reader

Warning: violence, blood

Summary: Robb is called to a village to sort out a conflict not knowing who he is meeting.

Wolfsbane Masterlist

Young children in the North all knew about the two-faced creatures lurking in the old woods. Half human half dire wolf. Creatures of magic. The Maesters toughed the young children to respect them. They were holy creatures. Creatures of legends and myths worshipped like the old gods.

But they were hunted. People were scared they would turn on them. After all they were glorified like gods. Years of hunting decimate the population of Werewolves. Once the wolf-humans and the humans lived in peace. Now they were hunted out of fear or worse they were hunted for fun. His great-grandfather remitted a law if there was a werewolf sighting you had to report it. This enabled the hunt till his father revoked and changed the law to only reporting and observing the activity. But they were still hunted.

Robb never believed any of the stories he was told about the wolves living among people. Till he was called upon by a village. The village laid near the old woods not far from Winterfell. People were whispering about mysterious deaths around this small town for a while. He listened to the villagers and their descriptions. They told him everything and nothing. Like they were hiding something. The only thing he knew was that the shepherd showing him the way to the beast’s layer was nearly killed by it.

He waded through the thicket of the woods. A villager showed him to the place where they suspected the rogue wolve to have its layer. The nearer they got the louder the yelps and growling of said wolf got. Before they could take a look at the wolf the villager pointed out to lay on the ground. Robb nodded before doing as he was told. On each side of him laid Theon and Jon. All three man held their breaths as the villager robbed forward up the small hill. The man laid still before slowly waving them over.

As they crawled up the hill the growling and scratching became louder. A high-pitched yelp came from down there. As Robb had a better chance at looking down at the wolve he saw there were two wolfs. One had pitch black fur and dark eyes, like the night without stars. The other one was a little smaller than the black furred one. This one had snowy white fur. He couldn’t make out the eye colour as the animal was turned away, back to them.

It seemed like they were engaged in some kind of dance, maybe a mating ritual, till the smaller wolve bit down into one of the legs of the bigger one. It drew blood and made the black beast back away. It fell against a wall of dirt. The beast huffed till its body shook and shrunk. The other one growled. It walked over to the now injured man. The man still tried to growl but was stopped by the beast in front of him.

Robb was told werewolves resembled dire wolfs. But the stories didn’t do them justice. They were much bigger and more majestic than dire wolfs. He had to think back to the cub he found and raised. Grey Wind was big, but the hight of this impressive animal was nothing in comparison to his companion.

Anxiously they watched as the wolf stalked over to the man. Slow and with calculated steps. Robb had enough and slowly made his way down to stop the next bloodshed. The villager’s and his companion’s protests were ignored as the young Stark made his way down in swift, fast motions.

He slid down to where both beast fought. With bated breath and silent steps he made his way over to the white wolf. But before he could unsheathe his sword and stop the next attack the bleeding man on the ground through a powder at the beast in front of him. It started to sway and stumble back till there was a loud fud and a cloud of dust.

After the dust thinned out Robb saw the silhouette of a women. He stood there feeling like he was rooted to the ground. The shepherd ran by him to the woman lying on the floor. “Are you alright, lupina?” The woman in question nodded. She tried to sit up but could only fall back to her knees.

Robb walked over to her but still kept his distance, “Why did you want to kill one of your kin? Why did you kill that innocent man?” The woman looked up. Her eyes sparkling in the sunlight braking through the canopy of the trees. “I didn’t kill those people! I swear to the old gods. I swear to Vali, I wanted to protect this village.” She looked over to the man in front of them. He was trying to stand up and run but his injuries hindered him. The woman on the ground glared at him and hissed, “He didn’t respect the treaty between the old clan and the settlers.” The young Stark unsheathed his sword and walked closer to her.

You knew who he was. You once saw him hunting in the same woods as you. Then you though he was a gentle soul. He killed the animals he shot with his bow in an instant. Giving them a merciful death. Now he inflicted fear in yourself.

His body, even though he had a lot of mass, gracefully stalked over to you. Even though most of the time you were the hunter, you felt like the pray in this moment. Your body trembled as the sword came nearer to your throat. You could feel the prickle on your skin from the silver sword.

Tears rolled down your cheeks. “Why should you remain living under this people.” The sheep farmer who was nearly attacked by the feral werewolf he supposed was her came forward, shielding her. “Because her family protects us for generations, lord. There are a lot of werewolf attacks. But not from this wolf pack. They protect us and our livestock for generations. I know her since she was a little cub yelping at the moon. The only thing she hunts are wild animals for our feasts or to sell.”

Robb looked at you before huffing. He put his sword down but his eyes never left you form. He looked over and saw the huge man still leaning on the wall of dirt holding his shoulder. “So he is the one killing all this people and their livestock?” Both nodded. He turned to the other two-faced creature. He walked over and raised his sword. “Halt!”

Robb turned to see the women wobbling over to him. “He needs a trial. He needs to be brought forward to the elders of my pack. He may have done a crime involving human lives but he is still under the rule of the pack.” Robb nodded, “Very well. And how do we transport him to the village?”

The shepherd looked at the woman. She nodded before the shepherd walked over and pulled out an amulet with a silver shimmering stone embedded into it. The man hissed and wanted to flee but Robb was faster and held out his sword to the man’s neck. The man hissed again as the villager but the amulet around his throat. “Hematite. It’s to prevent him from turning into his second form.” Robb nodded.

Theon and Jon watched the whole scene from afar. Waiting for Robb’s signal to come and help. They ran down and took the injured man by his forearms and began the hike back to the village.

Robb turned to the woman and saw her limping form come closer to him. She smiled softly at him as he took her arm and slung it over his brought shoulder. “I am sorry for suspecting you to be the wolve killing everyone.” She chuckled softly before wincing. “Everything alright, my lady?” The woman huffed, “I am hardly a lady. My name is Y/N, my lord.” It was Robbs time to huff lowly. “Please call me Robb. It’s the least I can offer. And I hope I can pay you back somehow. I nearly killed you.” Y/N nodded softly. “Stay for the New Moon feast. Then we are even.” Robb laughed softly, “As you wish, my lady.”

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[maesterchill]

my year in fic

I was tagged by the magnificent @lqtraintracks and @lettersbyelise to share one(ish) line from each of the fics I wrote this year. Thanks for the tags, babes! It was great fun reading yours and yours, respectively! 😍

There are 13 on my list which I quite like, numerically. Apologies for any typos, my left hand is a bit useless at the moment and won't do what I tell it.

Tagging @oknowkiss @tackytigerfic @corvuscrowned @cavendishbutterfly @skeptiquewrites @thebooktopus @hogwartsfirebolt @kbrick - I'd love to hear a few quotes from your 2023 fics!!

January

Gather Your Will With Mine (Drarry, E, 1.9k)

Aaah this mad microfic-filled collab fic written for @onbeinganangel . I wrote 3 of the sections and so i will choose a line from one of them

They hurtle along winding roads, Draco wrapped around Harry, the engine a hot insistent snarl between their legs.

Towards Sennen Cove. Towards the edge of the world. Towards a beachside chippy called Oh My Cod!

April

Good Intent (Jeddy & Heddy, E, 11.9k)

They say you never get over your first love. Never forget the raw depth, the thrilling newness of the feelings you had for them. Never stop feeling like a small part of them belongs to you, and will always be a permanent fixture in your heart. But the encounter with Draco makes Teddy realise that although it may never go away, that small part is shrinking, has been shrinking ever since James laid his hand on Teddy’s thigh that time, consenting, intentional, claiming. Teddy had been wondering if he needed to stop loving Harry before he could be really allowed to have James. To love James the way he should be loved. But perhaps there's actually more than enough love to go around.

Be careful what you hiss for (Drarry, E, 5.6k)

I excuse myself to go to the Owlery but instead head straight for the gents. Afterwards, I wobble on almost boneless legs back to the Auror office. I'm not normally one for a workplace wank, and the surrounds of the end cubicle are far from romantic, with its puerile graffiti (no idea who Briony is, but if you need to see a detailed illustration of her enormous breasts accommodating a man's penis quite comfortably, then you’ll be in luck), and the persistent stench of the deodorising concoction the Ministry see fit to dowse the place in puts one off one's stroke a little, but needs must. And I had a dire need.

May

Mischief Managed (Sirry, E, 1.7k)

Harry makes Petunia’s famous seven-layer salad with chopped bacon and peas, which Sirius declares 'fucking delicious' in a low voice while staring at him intently. After that Harry is the one to suggest a bath, and Sirius' pupils expand in what feels like slow motion, before he nods and said, "Great fucking plan." Sirius says fuck a lot. It's one of the many things Harry likes about him.

A Quickening Hope, A Freshening Glee (Drarry & Wolfstar, T, 3.9k)

It was only one marriage bond in a thousand that triggered a mind link like the one Harry and Draco shared. He couldn’t say he was surprised though, they were a power couple like Draco said, and in more ways than one. And when two extremely powerful wizards bond their magic to each other… miracles can happen.

August

Nothing Compares (Drarry, T, 3.1k)

Well done,” Harry whispers, feeling strangely lost, itching with that feeling he has when he sees something beautiful that isn’t his.

Thunder Moon (Drarry, E, 3.6k)

The feeling of being engulfed by Draco was overwhelming, especially with the moon so fat and milky, so close to his rut. Despite double-dosing Wolfsbane that morning, Harry still had to bracket his arms on the mattress to stop himself from roughly clawing and rutting his partner. Slow, slow. Slowly and languorously he pressed in and pulled out, the hot friction of it making them both delirious

September

Deja Vu (Drarry, E, 11k)

Despite the fact that his great-grandfather Pollux had possessed the 'Third Eye’ from a very young age—that’s according to Mother, and Draco has the impression she'd been extremely fond of the man—the Sight didn't come to Draco until later in life, when he was nineteen, and soon after his release from Azkaban.

The Gift (Tedrarry, M, ~500words)

Harry had known long ago what it felt like to hold Teddy's hand, but it was so very different now.

Desperately Seeking (Drarry, E, 34k)

"You try finding the perfect person when you work a nine-to-five as an Auror, plus every second Saturday!”

“And the man says he doesn't need our help,” Lily deadpanned.

October

Punkie Night (Drarry, M, ~500words)

Draco pulls the ring box out of his pocket, toying with the little clasp on the front. It springs open in an obnoxiously enthusiastic way, as if it just can't fucking wait one more second

November

Confessions in Tablecloth and Linoleum (Drarry, E, microfic)

If Draco was asked what prompted him—which would be an impudent thing for anyone to ask—he would probably say that he was bored. He just needed something to do, and it turned out to be Potter.

December

Wow (Drarry, E, microfic)

Draco wouldn't be able to talk about it later, which didn't matter, because no one was asking, (though he kind of really wanted someone to). All he had was his sharp, cruel vocabulary—words that didn't match up to how he actually felt.

[etxrnaleclipse]

Dire Situations @theweredrifter said: “I think  …  I think I need a doctor..” Gabriel muttered under breath as he stood there in one of the aisles of the book store. The estranged male is looking down at palms that were quickly breaking out in an itchy rash. He is standing in front of a Wolfsbane display. The poisonous item had obviously been touched. He’s scratching, and scratching, blue eyes reflecting quiet panic as he started to feel dizzy. It is evident he is unaware how quickly the body would be incapacitated without help.

Gabi was stood behind the counter, reading over the summary of one of the latest batches to come in, when she heard the sound of the young man's voice. She had seen him come into the store, offering a friendly greeting before he had begun to look around. At first, nothing seemed wrong, but when she heard his comment, it caused her to step out onto the shop floor and check on him.

"Oh, geez.... Are you ok?" she asked, approaching him cautiously, just in case whatever it was could be infectious. "What did this? Allergy?" Her gaze trailed over to what he had been looking at, stood in front of the wolfsbane. "Oh- Oh shit, ok... Um, sit down over there." She pointed to the chair at the counter as she began to rummage through the books for ways to help.

[cactusringed]

OC 👁️

Hi Scott I am kissing you with tongue

Oki I got a lot of OCs but I can't be asked abt them without mentioning my main baby boy light of my life dearly beloved piece of shit....

Note: all resamblance with certain characters is a crazy coincidence bc I made him back in 2017-2018 before I'd ever watched a single mcyt I just like blonde shit heads x-x

His name is Reed :3

- he's the main character of the novel I'm writing :3

- he's an ex-gangster turned petty thief and scammer and very much has a bounty on his head

- his adoptive dad was a once world famous magician, and taught him his trade. It's reed's dream to be a magician just like his dad, one day, when things are... Easier

- he's got a mechanical arm - it's a Steampunk story thus the technology is p sci-fi esque. Due to not having the best materials on hands, the arm is pretty heavy. The shoulder strap you see in the picture somewhat helps, but still, he's had to adjust his balance and suffers from shoulder and back aches from the extra weight. It can fuck with him to not wear his arm because of that lol

- because of uhhhhhhhhh several years in uhhhhhhhhh solitary confinement he is absolutely terrified of the dark and solitude :)

- he's got a tattoo of wolfsbane flowers on his hip, snaking up his side. In his old gang, members would be gifted these tattoos as a status symbol - one flower for the rite of passage, then one additional flower every time they impressed a higher up with their deeds. He has three. Some members had enough of these flowers they reach all the way to their necks

- he is literally such a cunt.

- extremely funny considering how his resamblance to certain characters is very coincidental, he's also. Rly associated with birds in the story 💀💀💀💀💀 birds are my favorite animal leave me alone. It also intertwines with the main religion of the area he's from, with birds being the gods of fire, breakers of chains, bringer of justice and retribution, and a symbol of rebirth etc etc. It's very close to his story

- he snorts when he laughs. <3

- in the very first iteration/very early draft of his story he was meant to die and his story was meant to be a tragedy. Instead it's now a tale of hope in the most dire of circumstances, and actually means the fucking world to me

Thank u for letting me rant abt my little boy baby shithead. I likes him :)

[dreamlandforever]

@writersmonth Prompt: Day 5 - Sun

I have to be honest, this whole writing something everyday is getting harder and harder, and we haven't finished the first week yet. Either way, here's today's story:

Fandom: Teen Wolf | Sterek WC: 1.6K

AO3

V. Damsel in Distress

The sunlight coming through the window was illuminating Stiles’ notebook. He frowned slightly, unable to read some of his notes from the glare on his mechanical pencil. Before he was able to even move the notebook to avoid the glare, something covered the light and he was suddenly able to see what he had written in the notebook again. Stiles said nothing and continued reading, taking advantage of the fact that he could now read without trouble. 

When they were in middle school, Scott would sit down and play with Stiles for a few minutes without saying anything. Once the first few games were won or lost, Scott would talk a mile a minute, much too fast for just anyone to understand, getting whatever was bothering him off his chest. So, Stiles gave him a full five minutes before his impatience got the best of him. 

“You know, there’s an actual door downstairs.” He said, going for nonchalance but failing for a mile. The eagerness in his voice to find out why his best friend was there, especially entering his room via the window when he literally has a key, is more than obvious even if said best friend wasn’t a werewolf.

“You mean to tell me this isn’t one?” And the way that the joke falls flat makes Stiles turn for the first time to face his best friend.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, all business. Because if he’s learned anything the last few years is that things can go bad in an instant. 

“Why did you do it?” Scott asked softly, stepping inside the room to sit in Stiles’ bed.

And Stiles should have really seen that coming. He moved carefully, being mindful of his leg. Ever since they were kids, Scott has always been the kind of kid to try and help anyone who might be injured. Showing any kind of pain right now will only make Stiles’ situation worse.

“You were in trouble.” Stiles said simply. Because to him, it made sense.

Scott knows him enough for the answer to be enough as well. 

“Stiles, I am a werewolf.” He sounded a lot more wounded that Stiles had thought he would, but he waited him out. “I heal.” His voice was almost too low for Stiles to catch, but not quite.

“It still hurts, Scott. We are best friends. They tried to kill you.” He spoke slowly, as if he were explaining things to a child. Last night they had been attacked by hunters. They had gone after Scott, and he was distracted trying to get Liam away from the arrows and bullets, when one of them was standing right behind with a knife. Stiles did not have to think twice before standing right in the middle, taking a stab to his leg, but giving Scott and Liam enough time to get away. A wolfsbane laced stab wound would heal for him, and it might have meant something far worse for either of the wolves. Luckily for them, not much happened after that once Chris Argent had reached them and called the hunters off. 

A lot more trigger happy hunters had been coming down to Beacon Hills since Gerard died, thinking there was no one around to guard the land. They usually don’t get into situations as dire as last night, but they had been caught off guard in the middle of the woods, only Isaac, Scott, Liam, and Stiles. They had been surrounded before they had a chance to realize what was going on.

“You don’t get in the middle of that!” Scott half-yelled, exasperated. “Maybe next time I’ll just kill you myself, it will go much faster!” 

“It’s who we are!” Stiles was yelling now, but he wasn’t able to stop himself. “And I got stabbed in the leg, Scott, I wasn’t trying to hold my entrails inside. Which you have done before, might I add. You were in trouble, Scott. It’s not werewolves and humans, you know that. That doesn’t apply only to when I’m in trouble, or I speak up during a meeting. It applies all the time!” Scott’s face was enough for Stiles to know Scott knew that. 

“I know.” He mumbled. “But when the hell did a stab wound become something normal, Stiles? It isn’t. You shouldn’t have to know what that feels like. Or how to treat it. Or how to keep it hidden, Stiles.” 

“You either die a hero or live long enough to become the villain.” Stiles said solemnly. 

“Don’t you dare quote Batman at me right now.” But there was a small smile on his face, even if he was trying his best to hide it.

“We are brothers, Scott. Your fight is my fight.” 

“So you decided to be Daphne?” 

“Hey! Daphne is a great addition. And I was not a damsel in distress. I was fully aware of what was going to happen. I made sure he hit the leg and not my spleen!” 

“You’re our strategist, let me be the fighter, will you?” 

Stiles doesn’t say anything, but he just smiles sadly at Scott. They both know they will be at this point again next time. Because they always do. Stiles will do what he has to, and Scott will worry.

“Why the window?” Stiles asked finally, standing in front of it and letting the sun bathe his face. It felt good after any kind of injury to remember that he was alive. That they had pulled through.

“Your dad was at the door having words with Derek.”

“WHAT?” Stiles asked, way louder than he had expected himself to be.

“Apparently, the Sheriff does know when you are limping, and he decided to blame Derek.”

“He wasn’t even there last night!”

“Derek was indeed trying to say that.” Scott conceded. 

Stiles made a move to go downstairs, and Scott was immediately by his side acting as his crutch. Stiles just let it happen, and made it downstairs in half the time it would have taken him on his own.

The Sheriff looked at them from his position on the couch next to Derek, both with a beer in hand.

“It wasn’t Derek’s fault!” Stiles defended valiantly the moment both his feet were off the stairs.

Derek was by his side almost immediately, crouching down to check at his injury. Stiles fought him off, but Scott the Traitor moved to help Derek look while holding Stiles still.

“You'll be fine.” Derek said finally, standing back up and turning to the Sheriff. “He’ll probably limp for a few days, and it will take a few days for it to heal, but it’s mostly superficial. The hunter probably thought the wolfsbane would do the job, not the stab wound.”

The Sheriff nodded, before letting out a sigh. “Are the rest of the kids okay?”

Derek just nodded. “Chris got there in time. Stiles getting in the middle of whatever was happening was not… the worst thing. When they hurt a human it made them hesitate. Also, not having one of us be poisoned is always good.” He turned to Stiles then, brows furrowed. “That does not mean you get to pull shit like that again. Ever. You see a knife and you run the other way.” 

Stiles was about to complain, but ended up remaining silent. He nodded with a smile. This dance he was familiar with, too. Somewhere in between trying to stay alive and becoming a Pack, Derek Hale had become a friend. A friend who worried. A friend his father had just yelled at.

“Wait! Why were the two of you having words?” He asked, confused.

Derek just shook his head. “I heard what happened, wanted to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed.”

“I didn’t.” Stiles answered immediately, like it hadn’t already been established.

Derek completely ignored him. “They told me you got stabbed and that Scott was sulking.”

“I wasn’t sulking!” Scott defended himself, dragging Stiles to a nearby chair.

“You so were, bro.” Stiles said. Because if Scott could betray him then so could he. Scott shot him a look, but still sat right next to him and helped him prop his leg high on another chair. 

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t dying from gangrene and the Sheriff was on his way out. We just went over a few details of what happened.” Derek explained, the tip of his ears turning a very interesting shade of pink.

“I need you to be more careful.” The Sheriff said to Stiles, arms crossed over his chest. 

“He’s not allowed to die on us.” Scott said solemnly, arm firm and unmoving from Stiles’ shoulder. 

And the Sheriff just nodded, like that made sense. It didn’t make sense to Stiles.

But then Derek nodded too.

“He’s not.” He agreed.

“Glad we all established that?” Stiles asked nervously. “I want to go for a walk.” His leg hurt, and he was not going to spend all afternoon trying to understand what unspoken conversation and weird camaraderie thing was going on with his dad and one of the Alphas. He could focus on that when he felt no pain. 

Derek rolled his eyes, but helped Scott by acting as Stiles’ crutch on his other side.

“We'll bring him back in a few minutes, when he gets tired.” Scott said to the Sheriff, guiding Stiles towards the door.

“Hey! I can so stand a lot more than a few minutes.” Stiles defended.

“Come on, let’s see if we can get you to tan a little.” Scott said, and Stiles followed obediently. His friends were okay, and he was going to be okay, too. He could deal with some awkward conversations every now and then if it meant they were all alive at the end of day. 

[pinkiepiebones]

Dear Zombie,

Ask and you shall receive:

Tell me about the time when, in a particularly wistful state of mind, I indulged in moon gazing, and felt a benevolent, kindred-soul sort of presence near me.

Your ever grateful friend,

Robbie

You've been going out at night, bit by bit. First just in front of your door. Then down the walkway. Then around the walkway. It sucks. But you've realised that most normal(?) adults can and do wander the nighttime without worries of what might lurk in the peripheral shadows. So you keep it up, and it sucks a little less each time. Maybe there's something to exposure therapy.

You've also been trying to reset your circadian rhythm to something more resembling a normal(?) person's, now that there's no need to be at anyone's beck and call, and stepping out at night has become part of your personal winding-down ritual, followed by a little bit of sewing or curling up on the couch with a nice book.

Tonight you're walking down the stairs of your apartment complex with a stuffed tote bag as the sun sets. It feels weirdly thrilling to be venturing so far at night from your small and safe apartment.

"C'mon now," you chastise yourself. "You're safe out here, too. You're going to the park for god's sake. And you've got pepper spray. And wolfsbane. And there's so many lights 'round now!" You catch someone else on the sidewalk looking at you and give an apologetic smile and remember to keep your conversations with yourself internal.

The park is a far walk from home but, hell, you've walked farther before, and in much more dire circumstances. Not that these are not dire circumstances in which you find yourself. You just really, really want to see the night sky. No reason. No complicated feelings regarding the night sky and it's significance to you. Nope, no strangely melancholy memories of watching anyone while awe and dread wrestled in your chest like a pair of ravenous serpents.

You find a somewhat secluded, darker area of the park and pull a smallish blanket out of your bag. And a little container of snickerdoodles from work. Not exactly normal(?) picnic food but this isn't exactly a picnic so what the hell. Now that you're actually here, it feels like a relief. You're not waiting for anyone anymore, nor dreading their appearance in the sky. It's nice. The summer heat dies down a bit in the night, but there's still enough of it- this is New Orleans, after all- that you roll up your sleeves. You fold up your bag to use as a little pillow and settle down on your back.

The moon is not quite half-full, but it's more than a crescent. You smile a little. You used to know the proper terms for the various phases. You reach over to your snickerdoodles and a feeling like cool air ghosts over the back of your hand and you startle up, sitting and looking around because the fuck was that?

But.

There was nothing threatening in... whatever that was. On the contrary, despite being a startlingly odd sensation, it was weirdly nice? Like a whisper of some sort of comfort. Huh.

You settle back down and gaze up at the moon. The world feels small and safe right now.

[mangher-a]

Overall

Misha was born in small village, in the middle of nowhere, in a large country with a corrupt leadership.

His village and upbringing was rather conservative, in their life styles, beliefs and behaviour. Everyone in the families have a certain role, with the men providing and women taking care of the household. 

Due to his blood, his kind was seen as guards and warriors in his country. If ordered by the state, him, his father and his brothers would be called to the frontlines of conflict. If you refused or didn’t show up, you’d be either forcefully taken to the area, or you’d be tossed into confinement which could mean that you wouldn’t get out with all your sanity intact anymore, due to torture and neglect. 

It wasn’t too rare for families to break from the inside due to large amounts of stress. However, it often led to the one being left behind hunting their family down and hurting them, possibly even killing them, before disappearing somewhere. Misha had witnessed this a few times among the people of his village. Obsession was a dangerous thing, especially when breaking a bond was added to the mix.

The state could also threaten one’s family, and thus force your hand in taking part in conflicts. 

Family

Mikhail is the second oldest of seven. He has an older sister, four brothers and one baby sister. His older sibling was married off once she was old enough, her thus moving over to her husband’s family, making Mikhail the oldest and the one in charge of keeping an eye on his younger siblings as well as helping out his father on the fields and during hunts.

The family lived in a small house, consisting of just enough space to house paternal grandparents, his own parents, himself and his siblings.

Growing up wasn’t easy. Unruly behaviour was corrected with a heavy hand by either his father or grandparents. His mother would, if able to in time, lock the misbehaving kid in a room or in a shed, so they wouldn’t be harmed by the patriarch of the family. Once he calmed down, the kid in question was allowed out again.

This has numbed Mikhail to physical altercations, given that it was more or less explained away --- all his childhood --- as a sign of caring. He also dislikes to stay in one place for too long, especially in a confined room or small spaces.

Men weren’t supposed to show emotions, given that they are the ones keeping the family safe. Showing weaknesses would just make them vulnerable. Closeness, skinship, anything the like was rare. If you were upset, you were either isolated from the group or you got confronted by the father of the family which could turn ugly fast.

Bloodline stuff

Dire wolf blood. Making his kin grow big and sturdy. Also partially resistent to wolfsbane, making it more tolerable to deal with, though painful. He will be sick for a long time and even after his body has worked out the poison, there will be moments when he seems like he just got poisoned all over again due to his body still trying to fix itself. During this time a new dosage would definitely kill him.

There is talk that in his family there’s been a few individuals who have been born immune to wolfsbane, though this mutation skips generations on the regular. In Misha’s close family there were none. (inspired by this babey here)

He’s built incredibly sturdy. He can be in a head on collision with a truck and walk it off with a light limp. 

Having dire wolf blood in him makes him tolerate silver to a certain degree. If it is pure silver it will affect him more and also kill him if you get a good shot in, though it would require to hit a vital point. If a silver bullet scrapes him, it will cause a decaying wound if not taken care of. This results in a death through silver poisoning. Very slow, very agonising. (Great torture method.) 

Something or the Other

Like with many of the children in the village, even Mikhail had a mate picked out for him. They were engaged, she moved in with him and his family. The small cramped house was now more so cramped but everyone made do. Mikhail wasn’t too interested in the whole relationship, thus didn’t really rush forth with bonding or anything. Instead, he kept avoiding the whole topic. 

However, he did end up growing close to her and there was a chance they would have bonded at some point, had shit not hit the fan. 

As stated earlier, Mikhail was often called to the frontlines of conflict, though one time he was accused of treason. The state officers took him away to confinement, while also punishing his family for housing a traitor. The time spent in isolation did a number on his mental state and when he returned, he was not the same any more. He isolated himself further, barely interacting with others though seeking comfort from his mother. Showing weakness such as that was frowned upon in his family so he was punished and belittled by his grandmother and also his father. 

Eventually the stress from the situation was starting to get the best of him. He snapped at his siblings, once hurting his youngest sister by accident, which had his father enraged. This lead to a fight between him and his father. An ugly outdrawn fight which at somepoint turned to one of survival.

The whole fight ended up with Misha blacking out, having turned to a wolf that worked on pure instinct. 

He eventually snapped back to reality, while holding one of his younger siblings in his maw, blood soaking his fur and painting the snow covered ground. He was shaking, blood rushing in his ears in a way that he couldn’t hear anything going on around him. Eyes wild he looked around, the corpse of his sibling still clutched tight. 

The village woke up to the carnage, and to the prints of a large beast having fled to the forest. One more of their kind had lost his mind and was now but a feral beast. Silently they buried the remains of the family, though wondered what happened to one of the younglings.

Misha had carried them with him, occassionally stopping to put his sister down, nudging them and whining. Licking at the wounds in hopes of easing the pain that they couldn’t feel anymore. Misha carried them for three days, until he eventually just left her somewhere, and started to wander off on his own. 

He was reliving the events over and over, especially when trying to rest. His hunts for game were sloppy, violent. He was out of his mind, though slowly healing, rebuilding himself. 

He would become a provider, just like those before him. But he would do it better, he would make it work. This is an obsession he is harbouring, resulting in almost desperate approaches when it comes to relationships. He has to make it work, or he fails, and his mind most likely can’t handle it. Once he tried dating a girl casually, but that ended with her disappearing and him skipping town soon after. 

He left his country, roaming more freely around the world in order to find himself and get his mind back on track, to find structure and a solid ground to stand on, which --- hopefully --- wouldn’t have himself lose his mind again, and hurt those he care about.

His fears of hurting those close to him is also resulting to the way he treats people; being rude, giving crude remarks, being obnoxious. Unconsciously he pushes people away with the way he acts, so that there wouldn’t be any harm to them once he snaps again, because he is quite sure, he would do it again.

However, having left his home, he is labled as a traitor, with a bounty on his head and a target painted on his back.

[ocil91]

Okay, here's an Ask of my own design;

1. How didja devise Alcuin, Beryl and Gloria? Draw inspiration from a few people/other characters?

2. What was a scene idea that you cut because "Good gods this is too dark!"

3. Which of the twins comes easier to you for writing them?

4. How'd you decide the twins' Palismen?

Alcuin came first of the two there. I wanted a foil to Alador and I feel like I managed that pretty handily. Beryl was conceived because I didn't want the Blights to be the only married couple. I'd already solidified Gloria as a single mother in my mind and with Perry Porter being a single father I didn't want Odalia and Alador to be the only lasting marriage. Yes there's Willow's dads but we knew next to nothing about them at that time. We still barely know anything about them but that's not the point.

2. Oh gosh that's hard to say. Originally Edric attempted to break the Oath with Odalia which she was prepared for and got him sent to the Conformitorium. The idea was that he would disguise himself with Illusions as Alador and try to get information from Odalia. He would have a brief 'dance' which ended with her invoking the "oh they struck first" clause of the Oath because he was holding her hand. This was a super early idea though which didn't mesh well with the final product.

3. Edric flows so much more easily for me from a character writing perspective. But when it comes to 'action' and 'story progress' it's Emira all the way. I do more than a fair bit of projecting onto both of them so it's hard to say.

4. For Em the first concept was 'something with wings' because she had a sub-theme of flying and freedom. Then the AMA with Dana dropped and she described bird palismen as 'a Clawthorne' thing'. From there a moth was an easy choice. And Radiance was a placeholder name that I got attached to.

For Ed the first concept was a Dire Wolf Puppy actually. The idea was that the Dire Wolf part represented the ferocity with which he protects the people he cares about and the Puppy part represented his undying innocence. The name Arnica actually means (at least on some cursory searches) 'Wolfsbane' which was to reference how Edric was fundamentally opposed to the concept of a 'Lone Wolf'.

I pivoted over to Pangolin for him when I wanted to change his focus towards protecting the people he cares about. So I wanted the armor to be the most prevalent aspect. Edric is tough in ways that aren't always readily apparent and he uses that tenacity to protect his family.

[tornsurvivors]

@thesoulofasurvivor​ sent in; (  ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑡. )

🏩- how does my muse handle pain? Do they vocalize their discomfort (verbally or through sound) or do they try to “suck it up” and get through it quietly? Does it depend on the type of pain? for Esmeralda

It depends on the intensity of the pain, and whether she’s alone or not. 

Pain isn’t unfamiliar to the werewolf. Especially not when she was on the verge of death at age fifteen, having been shot by a silver bullet laced with wolfsbane-- which forced her out of her wolf form and the poison of the wolfsbane prevented her from shifting. It was the last time she had been highly vocal about her pain in the company of her enemy-- howling, growling and even crying out before she eventually fell into a coma that lasted for several days. After that, she refused to vocalize her pain in front of the Hunters... or anyone, period. Because she despised being vulnerable and it often made her angry if anyone were to witness, let alone hear her pain.

The corruption within her, developed from years of slaughtering every single Hunter she encounters-- somehow helped her to conceal whatever physical pain she would feel when she’s shot, stabbed, etc. She would only clench her jaw and swallow whatever noise that threatens to escape. It helped her adjust to all forms of physical pain. Though the reason it’s considered a ‘corruption’ is because it also numbs her emotionally and it could be dangerous. If she were to forget the emotions of a human, she could end up turning into what she hunted... a monster. 

Emotional pain is a different story. If she’s alone and if it overwhelms her, she would roar or let out an anguished scream all while kicking something or driving her fist through the wall, or against a tree... whatever solid surface or object that is within her proximity till her hand’s bloody and bruised. (Even though the objects usually end up being absolutely obliterated because of her Dire Wolf strength). She would do whatever it takes till the physical pain is enough to make her forget the emotional pain. If she’s among company, she will growl / snarl threateningly before storming off to be alone and vent.

If she were to be with a loved one, whether it be of family, platonic or romantic... she wouldn’t lash out physically. She would likely break down and cry, or whine softly and that is a rarity. It just means she feels comfortable enough to be vulnerable around the loved one, knowing they wouldn’t judge her or make her feel inferior. 

[archonvs]

APPEARANCE. referred to as dire wolves when spotted by humans, lykos are larger than their extinct cousins, the grey wolves. the coloring of their coats and eyes is determined at birth, echoing their human form. when walking on two legs there are a few differences setting them apart from your "normal" human: sharper incisors, thicker nails, and reflective eyes that respond to light, making them an easy-to-spot target of their human enemies. 

Their shift tends to be exceedingly painful in the beginning and happens over 2-5 minutes. The full moon will force them to shift every month, but GAIA has created an enhancement that will allow them to control even this shifting if desired. It is common for younger werewolves to struggle with controlling their shift

SUBSPECIES. none 

ABILITIES. Stronger than any human, regardless of form; Longer lifespans, 150 years to 200 years. They do age, but more slowly; Enhanced senses that tends to be stronger when shifted; Advanced regeneration, can heal even from severe injuries

WEAKNESSES. Wolfsbane poisoning is arguably the easiest way of killing them. Brief exposure will just weaken them and leave them unable to move, but prolonged exposure can lead to unconsciousness then death. They also suffer from an allergy to silver that burns their skin when touched and will prevent them from shifting. Beheading or removal of their heart will result in immediate death.

[skelesune-kitston]

Let Papyrus Say Fuck!

Amber Foxglove, sign language: *hey bro... what are yo- Dire Wolfsbane: *FUCK! Amber Foxglove, sign language: *... what pissed you off today? Dire Wolfsbane: *A DAMN HUMAN THREW A BRICK AT OUR WINDOW!

[witchlywonders434]

Meet my OCs 1/4

Name: Fenris ‘Fen’ Gunnhildr, The Beast, Wolf Man, Werebeast, Cambion

Age: Mid 20s-Early 30s

Personality: Emotionally driven, fun loving, loyal, protective and excitable, he’s not exactly known for his intellect, he’s also a bit of a mama’s boy(in a healthy way) and a little naïve and oblivious at times.

Backstory: Fenris is a Cambion(Half Demon) who’s parents were former slaves of the Coil, his demon father was killed while distracting a group of Coil Slave Catchers who invaded their home, allowing his mother to escape with a toddler in her arms, knowing that the Tainted Lands were not safe for them his mother fled to raised him seclusion in woods Death’s Clutch.

Years passed and he found himself in an Coil ambush while out late at night, cornered with no hope of escape something awoke from deep inside him: his first transformation allowed him to fight his way out, however he was overtaken by his baser instincts and unable to transform back until hours later, over time he was able to gain a degree of control over his transformation however he can still easily slip into a feral state while transformed and it was still easy for him to trigger an unwanted transformation through emotional outbursts. He went to the Demon Lands to find a way to sabotage the Militia’s imports and exports before Eddie’s arrival and was only able to return after the Coil’s takeover of Bladehenge he then helped chase the Coil back to their lands after Ironheade’s return becoming good friends with Eddie in the process who taught him how to play the guitar.

Now he regularly patrols Death's Clutch and the Eastern Continent with a small group of Headbangers and Razor Girls in search of any signs of Black Water rising up again if he's not going wild at the Beach Party.

Abilities: His Demonic Heritage gives him an improved sense of smell and hearing and slight night vision in his human form, he’s also has enhanced strength.

Demon Transformation: his previously mentioned attributes are further enhanced. He grows sharp claws strong enough to cut through steel, his bite force is strong enough to sever limbs, he is also able to considerably move faster his sense of pain is also mitigated in this form.

Weapons: A black and red Warlock guitar called Blood Moon and a pair of enchanted throwing axes that return to his hands when thrown. A Familiar Spirit in the form of a snow white Dire Wolf named Fannar who has with cryokenetic abilities he can summon with a solo and use as a method of transportation.

Weaknesses: He can lose control of his transformation and become feral making him dangerous to everyone on the battlefield, cannot fly, sensitive to loud noises and bright lights in human form and even more so in beast form, susceptible to being possessed by the Tears in beast form.

Skin contact with pure silver causes Fen to develop a burn like rash that almost seems to sear his skin causing him immense pain as he touches the metal. Inhaling the pollen of the Aconite flower (AKA Monkshood or Wolfsbane) make him have severe hay fever like symptoms in human form and it acts more like pepper spray in his beast form in high quantities. Not feeling pain as much in Beast Form means that he may not notice being severely injured until he transforms back.

Appearance: (He's 6'8 btw) Disclaimer: in TS4 he is actually a Vampire because I made him before the Werewolves pack came out

[kthynes]

THE LYCANTHROPES

pairing: werewolf!ari levinson x fem!reader

summary: Ari, after returning from his first shift, adamantly shows you nothing but love and yearning.

word count: 786

warnings: SMUT / 18+ nsfw — MINORS DNI. Contains the following acts: fingering, slight marking.

authors note: this is my submission for @syntheticavenger 8k spooky challenge. Congrats on reaching this milestone ma! 🧡

boo! this has not been beta’d — any mistakes are my own 😱

The moon was still a luminiferous ether. Loud gasping breaths perforate the shared silence, sifting through the abandoned loft like a timed reaper. For the first time in a long time you weren’t alone.

“Hi.” Ari purrs a warm welcome that rumbles deep in the hollows of his chest.

“I—“ Your tremulous hands cradle the side of his apparent face that casts from the shadows. You’re soulfully relieved that he had finally made it back to you after going rogue for a few known weeks. He had no choice. His destiny was a decrepit calling.

“Angel.” He coaxes in a featherlight whisper. You observe his indifference, vaguely forgetful. His swaying auburn hair is outgrown well past his shoulders, he’s covered in dirt and debris, clothes tattered. His sultry Arabian tanned skin scarred with silvering wounds. The sight is magnanimous. You feel the anecdotal wolfsbane, notwithstanding as it thickly pulses through his veins after pinning you his captive.

There’s that colicky, lack of self control that tightens his hold.

Ari was ultimately looking for a repentant release. His beautiful, glittery now yellow-blue eyes were trained on yours, searching hard and long— wincing with beguiled pain. The feel of his large leathery hands glide over the pearly white slip you have on, bunching the material into his hoovered fists. He’d silken every concealed curve with earnest desire that clawed him inside out. You were both pressed chest to chest, your back against the cool glass sliding door he snuck in through.

“You’re you.” You muse, eyes heavily focused on the man before you. Standing nose to nose, your thumb traces out a fresh wound along his cheekbone that soon heals itself. You can’t help but innocently gasp in awe, a monster and a man.

“And more.” He drags his nose down your jaw, finally resting in the crook of your neck, just below your ear and inhaling your natural scent. A process of familiarization that has his inner wolf howling. “I broke nearly every bone in my body just so I could phase.”

“I didn’t think I would make it.” His cracked lips tickle your corded jugular with anticipation. “But that’s when I realized…”

You involuntarily shiver, a low slither that riffs from the base of your coccyx up to your sternum where your heart beats an unsteady tempo. Ari’s heightened senses could trace out each rhythmic murmur, smiling how endowed you became, how dire he was to make you his.

“I’m cursed.” Ari dejects, melding his large form into yours. His teeth lightly scrape the base of your neck, contemplating whether or not he could mark you this instant. His wolf brain was harping him to do so. He chose to wait.

“Every lunar eclipse would turn me, my anger in the moment could be monstrous. I wouldn’t be the man you know and trust…” He impulsively latches and suctions on the thin layer of flesh, leaving a light, patchy bruise to coagulate. You erupt, arousing a gruff moan that has Ari rucking up your nightie higher, completely exposing yourself to him. “I’d be—“

“Mine. You’d be mine, Ari.” You say and then mewl the very second his rough digits slip into your warm heat.

“As I’d be yours.” He affirms, planting a firm, long kiss on your lips. There’s a fraction of stillness that intensifies with each squelching thrust. Your cunt quells his burning fingers that build up all the right kind of friction. Your right leg hangs off his hip, toes pointed down as you arch your back, keeling into his lewd touches. He growls in your ear a mammoth urge and arbitration. It turns your eyes into the back of your skull. “Our being goes on because we sing it anew.”

Upon the consummate confession, you expend a calamitous cry, your warm spend coating his fingers, slick as they continue to oscillate the last of your pulsing orgasm. Ari could piston in you like this until the come of dawn. But then your fragile facial expressions were humanistic for the animal in him, they kept him subservient at most.

His free hand caresses your sweaty cheek, your breathing impaled, eyes euphorically closed as he drags his fingers out of you. You’re empty and clenching around nothing. The adjustment gashes you the second Ari slots his lips against yours, moving with rampant fervour.

There’s a far howling wail, a universal pack cry. Ari hums and smiles. “That’s me.”

“Or me.” Your eyes snap open, ciphering a vibrant violet aura that shows for a coveted Luna that lived an unassuming voyeur on earth. Upon seeing your fanged resolve, Ari riles up a stentorian Alpha growl and cages you in with his bracing forearms.

“I should’ve known.”

[wolfsbane-if]

Thank you for answering all my asks!! How high is the chance of running into a pack of lycans? Is usual for lycans to form a pack? Can Garamond resist the call of the full moon?

No problem; I enjoy getting to share things like this~

Whether or not a pack is formed and what that pack looks like often depends on the type of animal involved. Werebears, for example, are exceptionally rare, and they tend to be rather solitary. A 'pack' may consist of a lone individual or perhaps a small family of parents and one or two children, but they almost never settle down in groups.

Werewolves, on the other hand, are extremely family and community-oriented. Most werewolf packs consist of multiple families who have come together to form a settlement of their own made up entirely of wolves, typically in a forested region away from humans. They rely very heavily on each other for support, companionship, and education; and the formative years of a young werewolf are especially crucial. Being able to nurture and guide a younger werewolf through their first transformations is often considered an honour and privilege, and is something that's taken very seriously among werewolf communities.

That's not to say that all werewolves are part of packs, though. Some unfortunate individuals are turned later in life and abandoned to their own devices, either by a mindless hellhound attack or by a rogue lycanthrope who didn't bother to stick around after the fact. Such individuals rarely last long, often being the first to fall to a Wolfsbane as they struggle to navigate their new way of life without any direction.

And others still simply don't live among a pack, for whatever reason. Perhaps their partner or a parent is a human and they live among humans to be with them. Or perhaps they were once part of a pack and were exiled, or left of their own volition.

All that to say: lycanthropes are scattered throughout the world and live a variety of lifestyles, and there really aren't any rules to determine when you might cross paths with one (or several). Most tend to avoid humans for the sake of safety whenever possible, and their population isn't very large on the whole, but the likelihood of meeting one depends on a lot of different factors.

As for your last question, Garamond is able to stave off their transformation during a full moon, but doing so is extremely difficult and painful, so the circumstances would have to be dire for them to bother trying, and it's definitely not something the MC requests of them unless absolutely necessary.

[kylermalloy]

Motel California rewatch!

I actually got excited about watching this episode so here are my liveblog thoughts on it.

K all the shade they’re throwing at this motel when it looks like a lot of motels I stayed in growing up…

Wait, if Scott hasn’t seen Star Wars he shouldn’t have gotten Stiles’s Yoda reference in s1. An Obi-Wan reference is about on par with that. I hate inconsistencies in my MTV scripted shows!

Chris Argent: *lays palm on the ground* something terrible happened here…

This is why Stiles is the best character. “Yeah Boyd just punched through the vending machine glass and didn’t say a word. That’s all kind of unsettling, but I’m still gonna grab a few snacks before running off scared.”

Allison’s “ssslightly naked” is such good delivery. She sells this really creeped-out vibe very well.

The dialogue in this show is…charmingly quirky. “We’re not gonna be on the top of anyone’s list for customer satisfaction” nobody talks like that! Nobody would say that. It’s kinda cute though, in a weird way. Feeds my pedantic self. Thanks, Jeff!

Derek’s scenes are so out of place in this ep. And emblematic of the show’s overall Derek problem

Jennifer sweetheart. His incredible physique? Your first date? Again, not things people say! Especially in such dire circumstances.

I can’t believe Lydia overheard the ending of The Originals in the other motel room

I always look for screaming faces in wood panels too (I’m not even joking)

Also I love how the mystery of this place is never solved. Never explained. It could have something to do with the Darach, but it’s not confirmed or even likely. This is just…a creepy place.

Hi Isaac, your acting talents are almost completely wasted here. Daniel plays vulnerable very well.

Stydia crumbs my beloved 😊 (Need to talk. Just you.)

Is Ethan…threatening Danny? “I really hope you are (a survivor).”

Honestly, Stiles, no. This is nothing like when Lydia poisoned everyone with wolfsbane. No one tried to kill themselves or even hurt anyone else.

Boyd’s unknown backstory…

Out of place in a scene where Lydia’s hearing a murder/suicide involving an infant, but her dress is insanely cute

Stydia detectives!

But guys…his feet…aren’t underwater…

I’ll bet Stiles really enjoyed singeing Isaac (why do they hate each other? It doesn’t matter, it’s funny)

What did they mean to tell us by Scott saying “there’s no hope for Derek” then cutting to Derek getting laid

Oh

(Sorry Hoechlin, I’m still not impressed by your bod—or your acting)

Honestly why were we robbed of a proper Sciles hug here

Another suicide pact!

Lydia tackles two fully grown men—I mean, two clearly teenage boys—

Coach: *lays a palm on the bus* A red sun rises. Blood was spilled last night.

I forgot about the wolfsbane in the whistle at the end and I’m choosing to continue to ignore it

Oh hi Gerard, I forgot you were in this

In 1977? Deucalion would have been, like, a teenager? At most?

(Why did I say I loved this episode and then spend the whole time nitpicking it??)