#for werewolf reasons

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

MOREE because I actually can't stop, guys help

Anyways yeah the portal thing still happened in this universe 🙏 now they can live together for 30 years fixing it! Hooray!!

Previous!!

Next!!

First!!

[sunderwight]

Further speculation on Shen Yuan transmigrating in some kind of Beast:

Werewolf Shen Qingqiu.

And like, major emphasis on the wolf, in his case. Not wolfman. Every full moon Shen Qingqiu has to make arrangements for himself to turn into a gigantic silvery-white wolf that retains extremely little of his consciousness, and mostly just seems to want to do Wolf Things, though according to PIDW and all information he has on the matter, he ought to be turning into a violent and bloodthirsty predator.

However, it turns out that the wolf form does retain some awareness from the mind/soul of the human, meaning that the reason SJ's wolf was so incredibly unsafe to be around was because it was constantly trying to process SJ's trauma in wild animal terms. So, it was hostile towards the vast majority of humans and in a heightened state of anxiety, always anticipating violence (and reacting accordingly) whenever something unexpected happened. Matters were not helped by SJ's decision to try and lock himself up for every transformation, which of course freaked his wolf out even more (trapped) and resulted in self-harm as it desperately tried to escape. It was just that SJ interpreted the self-harm as a sign that the wolf was so extremely violent that it would cannibalize itself rather than go a single night without the taste of blood.

SY, who is a lot less traumatized, conversely has a much more calm and curious wolf. Like he's extremely cautious and nervous about the whole thing, because he's expecting it to be violent based on his information, and since he doesn't retain much awareness of his transformations he has little idea of what his wolf-self does. But he also isn't great at locking himself up like the original goods did, and he never really seems to wake up covered in blood or anything? Once or twice he thinks he might have hunted a rabbit, but they definitely were rabbits and not like his subconscious somehow going after children in the middle of a wilderness somewhere, because when he came to the wolf had brought the leftover bunny bits along back to the ruined temple he was supposed to be shutting himself up into.

The new Shen Qingqiu consequently gets a bit complacent about the whole thing. He can only blame himself. Maybe he should have anticipated Luo Binghe, with his boundless curiosity and interest in his shizun, would notice the oddities in his schedule and follow him out one night. Everyone's supposed to believe that he's just going to brothels and engaging in purely mundane debauchery, though, so why would Binghe doubt his story?

But he did, and so of course Luo Binghe ends up witnessing his shizun's terrible transformation into a wretched and hated beast. Stunned, the young disciple stands transfixed (no doubt in horror) in the moonlight. The wolf sees him, and though Shen Qingqiu doesn't retain much memory, he recollects the running, the leaping, the... uh... licking...?

Well. Turns out that even Shen Qingqiu's subconscious wolf mind recognizes Luo Binghe as pack, and thank goodness too, because at least he didn't attack him!

Although after that it becomes an extreme challenge to explain to Luo Binghe why he can't accompany Shen Qingqiu for his transformations every month. It's not safe, the wolf is unpredictable and Shen Qingqiu can't promise that he won't startle or suddenly change his tune and lash out, and even though Binghe's cultivation is progressing in leaps and bounds, the wolf also isn't limited to normal mortal strength. It would be able to track his scent and follow him relentlessly, chasing him down to catch and pin him beneath its massive paws, and... Binghe why is your face so red? Are you feeling alright? If it's too frightening, then let's not describe it any further, but the point is that it's dangerous.

Shen Qingqiu has to put his foot down. In the end, he has his suspicions that Binghe is still circumventing him, as he could swear he sometimes remembers running around the wilderness with company. (Binghe is absolutely sneaking out to go spend time with Wolf Shizun.) But there's nothing concrete enough to be certain. Meanwhile, Luo Binghe has at least agreed to keep it secret (for now -- probably not once the time comes for Shen Qingqiu to be put on trial) and fusses over his shizun, helping him keep track of the moon scheduling and always making sure he has a full belly before he goes into wilderness seclusion (Shen Qingqiu never says, but somehow Luo Binghe guesses anyway that he doesn't like waking up to find that the wolf had a snack during the night...)

Another hazard: lycanthropy in the PIDW setting is a curse. Like admittedly it's kind of a kickass one, but it still has tons of negative associations, most commonly befalling impoverished individuals or travelers who get bitten by wild wolf demons, and survive only to find that a piece of the wolf's spirit has gotten stuck to their own. Cultivators with lycanthropy are often associated with demons and disrepute, like Wu Yanzi, and there are countless tales of them turning on their own people or being revealed as violent, depraved criminals. It's only slightly more acceptable than being a demon outright.

In other words it's not a desirable circumstance.

And yet, for some reason, Luo Binghe is reprehensibly lapse in his protections against lycanthropy. Shen Qingqiu has told him all of the precautions he knows against it, and yet it's almost like Binghe keeps doing the exact opposite things! Listen, wolves are cool. Shen Qingqiu knows that. He's actually kind of fine with turning into one, since it seems to be less of a ravenous beast situation than he'd feared. But there are still social consequences to this kind of a thing! Luckily, it doesn't actually matter much because even with his uncharacteristic youthful irresponsibility, Binghe's heavenly demon blood protects him from ever being cursed. The only way he'd get lycanthropy would be if he deliberately let a werewolf bite him and then just refused to excise the curse, and even then, he could purge the tainted wolf spirit from him just by force of will whenever he wanted.

Seriously, though! It's only when Shen Qingqiu points out that Luo Binghe is going to make people suspicious with all his negligence towards basic precautions that Binghe finally smartens up about it.

(Luo Binghe, out in the woods during a full moon: Wolf Shizun please bite me? Bite Binghe? Then we can be together every full moon! Look here I'll stick my hand in your mouth... just, just chomp down... no don't lick... *sigh*...)

Anyway, the plot still goes mostly the same, except that when Shen Qingqiu put into the water prison it's the full moon. He expects this is part of Luo Binghe's plan against him -- Binghe probably couldn't reveal the lycanthropy without also admitting he'd known before and helped hide it, but this way, Shen Qingqiu can just get caught as a wolf by the palace guards. But Luo Binghe's just been so frazzled and distressed by everything that he genuinely forgot what phase the moon was on. Shen Qingqiu's expecting a lot of things when he wakes up after transforming in the Water Prison, but being back out of the Water Prison and snuggled up to the protagonist's chest wasn't on the list.

Turns out that after his confrontation with Luo Binghe and the Little Palace Mistress, Gongyi Xiao went to check on him and found him transformed. After Gongyi Xiao alerted the rest of the palace, the Palace Master determined that Shen Qingqiu being a werewolf was as good as a confirmation of guilt, and had the wolf dragged out to be killed. Luo Binghe intervened, Shen Qingqiu took off, and between one thing and another the whole night was spent with Huan Hua and Cang Qiong cultivators trying to catch him (for different reasons).

Of course it was Luo Binghe who eventually cornered the terrified wolf, at which point the wolf actually, finally did bite him. But when Binghe failed to react, it whimpered and went back to its usual behavior, and let Binghe lead it out of the city and off to its usual territory near Cang Qiong. The wolf then proceeded to act like an overjoyed puppy whose owner had finally come back from war, until Binghe broke down and sobbed himself to sleep. It must have curled up onto his chest afterwards.

Shen Qingqiu is deeply embarrassed, but... somehow Luo Binghe doesn't seem to be taking revenge on him?

He's going to need to treat that bite wound soon, though.

Binghe.

Binghe, you are going to treat that--

[soildweller]

would YOU pick a fight with him in the ring

(drew brent in a boxing fit ft. him as a masked wrestler like king from tekken and a full human pic... people seem to like brent with a bear build tho HAHA)

[solarmorrigan]

Howling for You

For the @steddie-spooktober day 9 prompt: Werewolf Rating: T | Words: 1405 | CW: brief, vague descriptions of gore? (werewolf transformation) | Tags: established relationship, werewolf Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson, fluff, a little hurt/comfort Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

This is… unexpected.

The thing is, Steve always tells Eddie to stay safe during the full moon. To stay away from Steve and just let him have his run in the woods. He’d never be able to live with himself if he hurt Eddie.

So Eddie stays inside. He doesn’t go out, no matter how curious he is (his boyfriend is a werewolf, and he doesn’t even get to see his wolf form? Criminally unfair) and no matter how mournful and lonely the faint howls sound in the woods. For once, Eddie actually obeys instructions.

Except– except for this time, when he realizes that Steve’s forgotten to take his post-transformation care kit out with him (fresh clothes, a bottle of water, ibuprofen, wet wipes for the worst of the mess). He doesn’t want Steve to be without—to do some kind of werewolf walk of shame in day-old clothes while covered in grime and who knows what else—and he figures he has time. The moon is barely in the sky, and Steve hadn’t left too long ago. Surely Eddie still has time.

(Spoiler: he does not.)

Eddie doesn’t manage to find Steve in the end, stumbling around in the dark woods, realizing that he has no idea where Steve goes to have his transformation. Instead, Steve finds Eddie.

And look, Eddie is only human. When confronted with a wolf easily twice his size, bright hazel eyes (familiar, but not Quite Right) flashing in the moonlight, sharply-clawed paws carrying him closer and closer at an alarming speed, it doesn’t matter how much he knows Steve loves him – Eddie assumes he’s about to die.

He drops the care package, wonders if he has time to run, wonders if he can even make his body move well enough to run at all, wonders if maybe playing dead would work – and that’s when the unexpected happens.

Steve– the wolf?– no, Steve, lets out a yip that wouldn’t be out of place coming from an excited puppy, galumphs forwards, tackles Eddie, and then… lies down on his chest.

His head is the size of Eddie’s torso, his large, wet nose resting just beneath Eddie’s chin, and he just lies there, looking up at Eddie with wide eyes and sort of wiggling against him. When Eddie cranes his head to look around Steve, he realizes it’s because he’s wagging his tail so hard that his whole body is shaking with it.

“Uh… Steve?” Eddie hazards.

He isn’t sure how himself Steve is in this state. Steve’s made it sound like the wolf takes over and his human consciousness takes a backseat, made it sound like he’s dangerous, but from where Eddie’s lying, he seems – well, not harmless, but certainly friendly.

Steve whuffs at him, and Eddie can feel the sound reverberate through his whole chest.

“Are you– do you know me?” Eddie asks.

In response, Steve opens his mouth—and yep, those are teeth. Very large, sharp teeth—lets his tongue loll out, and licks Eddie.

It’s… an experience.

He wiggles his way a little further up Eddie’s body after that, nearly knocking the wind out of Eddie, and wuffles his huge, cold nose right up under Eddie’s ear. His breath ruffles Eddie’s hair, and Eddie can’t help his immediate reaction to try to push Steve’s head away.

“Hey, hey, that – shit, that tickles!” he gasps, laughing a little as Steve lifts his head.

He whines at Eddie, his ears folded back, and fixes him with the biggest set of puppy dog eyes that Eddie’s ever seen. He can’t help his immediate reaction then, either.

He brings his hands up, stroking over Steve’s fur, seeking out a spot behind his ear to scratch, shushing him. His fur is thick, a little coarse on top and addictively plush and soft underneath, and it figures that Steve has good hair no matter what form he’s in.

“Dangerous, my ass,” Eddie mutters as Steve settles back in against him with a happy grumble. “You’re not dangerous, are you, sweetheart? No, you’re just a big ol’ puppy.”

It’s at that moment that Steve’s ears prick forward, his whole body tensing in alert. He stands up, towering over Eddie’s prone form, a growl rolling low in his chest, and a thrill of primal fear shudders down Eddie’s spine.

The growl doesn’t seem to be directed at him, though. Instead, Steve steps right over Eddie, intent on something making noise in the trees just at the edge of the clearing. His fur stands up as he tenses, coils, and then pounces into the trees in one powerful leap.

“Okay,” Eddie says, still lying, dazed, on the ground, “maybe a little dangerous.”

He isn’t quite sure what to do with himself now that Steve’s gone. Should he go back to the house? Should he wait? Something in him worries that Steve will be sad if Eddie leaves now (and something else in him worries that Steve in Hunting Mode won’t differentiate between him and any other prey, if he should go wandering in the woods), so he decides to set up in the clearing and wait.

Steve isn’t gone long. He comes back licking his chops and looking, somehow, very satisfied with himself. He yips again to see Eddie sitting up against a tree, excitement taking over his full form as he bounds over and flumps down on the ground in front of him. He rolls over, and Eddie can’t help but laugh.

“You want your belly rubbed?” he asks, sitting forward.

Steve whuffs at him, wiggling a little, his tail wagging as best it can against the ground, and Eddie isn’t rude enough to deny such a polite request. He sits up on his knees and applies both hands to the task, and he gets to find out what joy looks like on a werewolf.

It’s pretty good.

The night carries on like that; Steve will occasionally bound off into the trees, chasing a noise or a movement, but he always comes back to Eddie, sweet and gentle and playful in his movements. Eddie’s watch tells him it’s three a. m. by the time he starts to flag. The adrenalin rush at the beginning of the night had been enough to keep him going for a while, but he does need to sleep eventually, unlike certain beasts he could name.

Still, once Steve clocks Eddie’s continued yawning, he sits and curls up beside Eddie, nudging at him with his enormous head until Eddie gets the picture and lies back into the curve of Steve’s body.

There, cradled in warmth and security, Eddie falls asleep before he knows it.

His awakening is rude. He finds himself jostled to the ground with the morning’s first rays of sun in his eyes, and it takes him a moment to remember just where he is and why, but then he’s jolting upwards, trying to scramble up off his ass and find Steve.

He doesn’t have far to look; Steve hasn’t gone, he’s standing in the center of the clearing, tense and ready, as the dawn washes over him.

And then he changes.

It’s horrifying. Eddie has never heard a bone break before, and now he’s heard it in stereo. The snap of muscle and skin pulling back into place is sickening, and yet it’s all nothing compared to the noise coming from Steve’s throat.

The panicked, pained whine of a wounded animal morphs and changes in pitch until it’s Steve’s voice, ringing through the clearing in a final, agonized scream that echoes for long moments after he’s stopped making noise.

He sways, falls to his knees, and then Eddie is right there in front of him, gathering him close to his chest, holding him as Steve nuzzles tiredly into the crook of Eddie’s neck.

“I didn’ hurt you,” he slurs out, trying to cuddle in closer.

Eddie wraps his arms more tightly around him. “You didn’t hurt me,” he confirms. “Not a bit.”

Steve hums, eyes shut as he lets himself be held, be comforted in a way he never has been after his moonlight jaunts. “I think… I could smell you,” he says after a long moment, more of an exhausted, half-formed thought than a full hypothesis.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks anyway. “What did I smell like?”

Steve lifts his head, nosing up into the spot just behind Eddie’s ear, much as he had just a few hours ago.

“Home.”

[bearsandswears]

Asena is perfectly comfortable with nonsexual nudity (you kind of have to be as a werewolf, the clothes don’t come with), but seeing a chance to make Gale blush activates her prey drive.

[gorgynei]

new werewolf enid design because my brain latched onto the idea of her having a mexican grey wolf inspired coat

[pepa-brainrot]

Werewolf au? Werewolf au.

Man when I tell you- I feel like I got more lore for this silly little au than my canon story-

I hope to do more works that hint at that lore eventually. The people I've told have all really enjoyed it

Bonus- my own ocs (those would be werewolves anyways, sorry sofia)

[rawbin-hsr]

OMGGG Your latest smut fic is so amazing!!! The smut is absolutely delicious! but....the angst is breaking my heart so...could you please write a continuation or part two where the reader confronts Aventurine's dark internal thoughts and comforts them? A fic where they actually get him to believe that they love him for real, where they tell him that he's not a monster and that he wasn't ruining them.

You've got it ! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Aventurine x Reader

You treat Aventurine with more respect than he deserves. (Part 2)

Read part 1 here !

CW: dehumanisation (internal, thoughts Aventurine has of himself, referring to himself as a “monster”), lots of mentions of death, passively suicidal Aventurine, violent imagery (through metaphors, nobody is actually physically harmed), intrusive thoughts, Aventurine thinks kind of vicious things about you (refers to you as "stupid", "brainless", "naive" etc), cursing.

Lmk if there’s anything else I should warn about !!

Small note: Spoiler alert sorry, but you will not completely fix Aventurine in this fic. Making any real progress would take YEARS. The trauma he's gone through and his beliefs about his own humanity are EXTREMELY deep-seated, just one conversation would not be enough to make him truly believe he was loved. Super sorry since I'm sure that's not what you wanted (you specifically requested they "truly get him to believe that they love him for real", but this does still end on a hopeful note so I hope you won't be too disappointed (•ᴗ•,, ) )

Sometimes Aventurine gains enough clarity to remember where he stands. More importantly, he gains enough clarity to remember where you should stand. That is to say, as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, you are never keen on doing that. 

In these moments of clarity, he distances himself. If you won’t do it, he has to. He needs to. He needs to even when he can feel the little pieces of him that you’ve managed to haphazardly glue together splinter into tiny shards again, even when it feels like every step away is a step walked on shattered glass. He can hardly be called a ‘person’ anyways, what does his suffering matter? He has already lost so many good things, why not add another loss to the tally?

He reads your texts, but he doesn’t respond. He hangs up on you the moment you call. By doing this, he makes sure you know he is alive. Both because he knows it would devastate you if you thought he died, but even more so to make sure you know he is intentionally ignoring you. He hopes at least some part of you hates him. He thinks part of him hates you.

But he can never stay away for long. Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. Thoughts of you always cloud his mind too much to do what is right. He reminds himself he will destroy you. He comes back anyways. He is too selfish not to. 

And you welcome him with open arms every time. Sure, sometimes you yell. Sometimes you berate him. Sometimes you cry. But he never does something beyond the bounds of what you’ll forgive, even though he tries to. You’re patient to a fault. Though he feels bad, he never takes it fully seriously, because you always hold him with so much sweetness, even when your words are filled with righteous anger and justified hurt. You always end it by reminding him that you love him. Something clenches in his chest; something that is not his heart, because he has none. He claims he is sorry, but you both know he will do this again. He always does. You know he will hurt you over and over, even if you don’t know the extent. You know he will test you, that he will ignore you, that he will cling to you and that he will taunt you. You don’t know he will drag his claws through you and tear you to ribbons; you don’t know he will sink his teeth into your neck and drink all your blood; you don’t know he will lure you to sea and drown you. You are never aware of the true danger you are in. 

Maybe that’s why you one day feel comfortable enough to corner the creature that has taken on the appearance of a lover. You sit down next to him in bed one evening after one of his many attempts to push you away, your expression grim. You look straight ahead, right into his dead eyes, unaware that a monster is towering over you. 

“We can’t go on like this,” you say. For one moment, the crushing relief and devastation threatens to consume him, and he’s not sure which of the feelings is stronger. For one moment he can’t breathe. 

He hacks our a laugh, his skin straining. Something is shifting beneath his flesh, something ugly and dangerous. He needs to leave and he needs to do it quickly. 

“You’re right, we can’t,” he agrees, his voice a lot more steady than he feels. He feels the urge to grab you and shake you until you pass out. He feels the urge to suck out your life force until your body is an empty husk. He feels the urge to slam your head into the bathroom sink in the next room over. He feels the urge to shoot himself in the head, because he does not want to do any of that. 

“I love you,” you say, unexpectedly. Or maybe it’s not unexpected. You always say such stupid, brainless things. (You say it with sweetness. The only sweetness he can offer in return is the sweetness of bacteria digesting rotting meat. Is the flesh his, or will it be yours?) He laughs again. 

“I thought we were breaking up,” he says. Smirking, as if it’s funny. (It isn’t.)

“No, we’re really not,” you say firmly. He snorts. 

“Maybe we should.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you come closer. 

Get away, he thinks. Run, you fucking idiot. 

You don’t have many flaws, but the ones you do have are insurmountably big. You are too forgiving, you are too kind, you are too selfless, you are too naive. You will kill yourself doing this one day. You will let him kill you.

Your arms wrap around him. He can’t help but relax. The thing lurking under his human disguise grows more restless. 

“I don’t hate you,” you say, unexpectedly. And this one really is unexpected, because what made you say that? Your arms squeeze around him tighter. “I thought I was being obvious enough about that, but you’re so bad at understanding it.”

The feeling he has is the same as the feeling he gets when he realises a deal is going awry. You are the highest risk stakes he has ever made a bet on: will he ruin you, or will you ruin him? What you could do to him is so much more serious than death. He knows that he is holding a losing hand. He doesn’t even know what he stands to win.

You kiss his neck. He shudders. 

“Why are you so scared of me?” you ask. 

Scared? He is not scared. What an outright laughable concept. Neither of you are scared, but if one of you was, it should be you, but you aren’t, for some reason.

“What gives you that idea?” he chuckles, but his voice is not as steady this time, and he can feel his smile slipping. (What is wrong with him? He doesn’t want to think about it. The answer is always ‘everything’.)

“Your hand is shaking.”

It is, but that is not because he is afraid. Fear is a human response, borne from the desire to live. It is instinctual. It means kicking and screaming, it means clawing your way out of hell for the chance to see another day, it means fighting for the life you don’t want to end. He cannot die, you see. Death cannot occur twice. Just because his body reacts, that does not necessarily mean he can truly fear any longer.

(Then again, maybe his reaction does not come from the thought of his death.)

“I’m not scared,” he says, and his voice sounds a lot weaker than he had expected. You pull him closer, cradling his head against the crook of your neck. His blood is pulsing too quickly.

“It would be okay if you were,” you murmur. “I know you don’t know how to be loved. That’s okay. I’ll teach you. You just have to let me.”

Squash. Slice. Tear.

Maybe you are the monster. He can feel your claws prying his chest open; he can feel your teeth dig into his flesh; he can feel something that is not air fill his lungs. The biggest difference between you and him is that he devours, while you give. You painfully shove something back into the cavity meant to contain his soul, you pump blood back into his system, and you fill whatever gaps are left in him with something that is first cold but quickly warms. 

(He realises, belatedly, that something is pumping inside his chest again. But it can’t be a heart, can it? He lost that so long ago.)

“I’ll kill you,” he manages through gritted teeth, claws digging into your shirt. It is not a threat. It is not a warning. It is just the truth.

“You think too much,” you admonish him. Your tone is as gentle as your words are cutting. “I wish you would trust me more. You’re so determined to ruin your own life, and I don’t like it.”

“That’s just how I am. Deal with it or leave.”

“I’ll deal with it, then.”

Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. He will destroy you. But you accept it. 

He has tried time and time again to push you away, but he is weak. So incorrigibly weak, and though your flaws are insurmountable, his are all-consuming. He is a monster in all the ways that matter. But you stubbornly will not leave despite that. 

(Maybe that makes him a little more willing to try to change his nature. Just a little. Just for you. If you will not leave anyways, maybe he could try to make his presence a little less torturous.)

“Just… please stop ignoring me,” you sigh, nuzzling into his hair. Tenderly, tenderly, tenderly, so tenderly it makes his skin crawl. Your claws are softly piercing into him and he is helpless, unable (unwilling) to fight back. “I can deal with everything else. I just hate it when you do that. I can’t keep going weeks without speaking to you. I know you have some kind of… weird ideas that I’d be better off without you, but that’s not true. I love you, and I love being around you. I can’t help you when you cut me off at every corner.”

Cut, slice, slash.

Something in him breaks. Something he knows cannot be salvaged. Something he knows you would not want to salvage. Something he is not sure if he wants to salvage either, now that it is broken anyways.

He breathes a shaky breath, his fingers — his fingers, not claws, not this time — digging into your back. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, and he does not feel the urge to bite down. Though his eyes feel wet, it would not be enough water to drown you. 

He knows your line of logic is wrong. He knows the fact remains unchanged: he is a monster of a man. He will ruin you. But maybe your presence sparks enough electricity to keep his heart pumping, just for a little while, and maybe he can wait until things actually start going downhill before he lets you go. Maybe he can remember how to be a human for a bit, maybe he can pretend he is. 

“I just… don’t want to do something I can’t take back,” he whispers. “Not with you. You’re the… the only good thing I have left. I don’t know what I’d do if I…”

“That’s sweet, but I’m not as weak as you think I am,” you reply. “I’ve held out this long, haven’t I? Put more faith in me.”

He smiles.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

---------------------------------------------------------

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3 Also reblogs are EXTREMELY appreciated the final push I needed to finish this was from a very kind individual who reposted and analysed my writing I've been riding that high ever since they did that ily bro

[clawed-sapphic]

The werewolf “curse” is often claimed to be passed on through the werewolf biting an individual.

Hypothesis: The “curse” is transmitted through werewolf spit.

Claim: Making out with a werewolf sloppy style will micro dose you with lycanthropy and turn you into a werewolf slowly over time.

[werewolfaday]

hope it's okay that it's an oc for today! day 47 :)

[acewitch-writes]

I love Canon Remus and all of his flaws. Enough of this "Casanova of Gryffindor Tower" BS, Remus is the cowardly lion of Gryffindor tower. He values bravery because it is something that he lacks and yet still strives to be. He has an ingrained sense of shame and self-loathing and an inferiority complex that stems from society's contempt and marginalization towards Lycanthropy, a condition he was cursed with from a very young age. He wasn't a leader, he was a follower. A blind follower who believed to his core that he was unworthy of love and respect because of what he was.

Which opens the door to what I believe to be Remus' greatest flaw: His unwavering, unquestioning devotion to Albus Dumbledore.

I think Remus saw Dumbledore as the perfect encapsulation of Good. He was everything that Remus desperately wanted to be, everything that society was determined to believe a werewolf could never be. And maybe, if Remus could earn (and cling to) Dumbledore's favor and make him proud, he would prove to the world and himself that he is Good, too, in spite of his lifelong curse.

Remus felt that he owed Dumbledore a debt he could never hope to repay for allowing this chronically ill little boy into his school when no werewolf before him had ever been given such an opportunity. So many of Remus' choices in canon stem directly from this imagined debt that he had dedicated his life to paying. Hell, he didn't even hold a grudge against Snape for OUTING HIM to the entire wizarding world simply because Dumbledore trusted him.

Remus trusted Dumbledore wholeheartedly. And Dumbledore personally saw to Harry's placement with the Dursleys. Why should Remus have considered, for even a moment, that Harry wasn't safe? Certainly far safer than he would have been with a monster in close proximity, as Remus believed himself to be. In his mind, staying away from Harry was what was best for Harry. Until Dumbledore needed a favor, that is.

It's reductive to suggest that Remus failed Harry (and by extension, James) for putting his trust in Dumbledore to do right by Harry. James and Sirius trusted Dumbledore, too. They all did. Stripping away all of the nuance and blaming the abuse Harry suffered on Remus is simply unfair. NO ONE helped Harry, not even those who were fully equipped to do so, and Remus was the farthest thing from being equipped to take that on, what with being an impoverished werewolf living in a society that reviles his very existence. The only person who could have saved Harry from the abuse was the very man that placed him in that home, the very man that Remus revered with blind conviction.

[justaregularken]

Your werewolf boyfriend spooning you while his knot is still inside, tail lazily wagging as he murmurs about how you’re his

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

please draw werewolf doc when u have the chance

stick to physics, doc

transcript, bc my handwriting is shoddy but i'm too lazy to fix it:

DOC: duhuhhhh- Marty! MARTY: Yeah Doc what's up? DOC: You know that thing I was working on with Einstein? MARTY: Yeah, what about it? DOC: Well, uhhhh. How do I put this- MARTY: Oh my god, Einstein! MARTY: He's not- DOC: No, no, Einstein's perfectly alright, don't worry. It's just- DOC: There's been a... recent development. As you can see. MARTY: MARTY: (the floor calls to him.) DOC: Marty-

bonus doodles:

[goryhorroor]

british horror movies

[decadentworld]

Thoughts are being thunk about werewolves’ more feral behaviors bleeding into their human forms. (18+ after the cut)

A werewolf boyfriend who can’t help but howl when he’s excited about something. Cute when he’s in his were form, mortifying when he does it in his human form. (But you still find him adorable).

Not realizing how weird it might sound to other people that he’s just asked you if you wanted to play tag. Realizing it after he’s said it and covering his face in embarrassment.

Trying to stop the tilting of his head when he hears an interesting sound.

Growling at a person he doesn’t like.

Preferring to grab things with his mouth rather than with his hands. Receiving the most perplexed reactions from other people and getting red to the tip of his ears.

Making happy noises while he eats a yummy food.

Being unable to stop himself from yelping and whimpering in happiness when you come home, even if it’s only been a few hours, almost on the brink of tears.

Him trying and failing to stop the jiggling of his leg when you run your hand through his hair.

Whining and clinging onto you when he’s had a bad day, thoroughly scenting you but then getting shy about it.

(You pressing him harder against your neck. Him making an overwhelmed noise when he catches your overpowering scent. Maybe him getting weak in the knees after you command him to lick as much of your scent as he wants.)

Blushing so hard when you find him nesting. You finding him so endearing that you give him some of your clothes to add to the nest.

Having a very strong reaction to you calling him a ‘good boy’.

Helping him through his heat. Him making the most adorable needy noises.

Him presenting himself to you, face down, ass up, unable to stop himself as he gets more desperate for you to mount him.

Being unable to talk as you pound him deep into the bed. Only being able to make incomprehensible noises. Downright slobbering onto the mattress. Tongue out.

Making the most animalistic noise and cumming so hard when you add fingers around your cock inside him in place of a knot.

Work available only on Tumblr and under ArchiveOfOurOwn pseud of the same name (DecadentWorld). Do not repost, edit, or redistribute. Do not use for TikTok or YouTube videos.

[phuuca]

Ortho Shroud - 5/7

Werewolf Subspecies: Greece/Golden Jackal

Ortho has since lost his original body to his death on the Island of Woe and, because of that, his ability to transform and access his werewolf abilities were also lost. At least, that was the original thought, until after Ortho's body and soul were returned to the physical plane along with his status as a werewolf. However, he still uses his old, robotic parts as support since his muscles have atrophied and his immune system isn't what it used to be. Even though his wolf form is far sturdier than his human body, he still needs regular breaks and lots of rest.

Despite this, Ortho finds the most freedom and feels the most alive when he's running around on four legs. To him, it feels far more natural compared to the metal and wires that make up his dorm in Ignihyde. Although it's probably not the healthiest coping mechanism, he tries his best to live as his wolfish alter-ego as often as he can. He regularly does physical therapy to build up and restore his muscles to how they used to be as he hates being the weakest of the group, even though the Ramshackle Pack has expressed they don't mind taking things slower in order to accomodate their friend. Despite, probably, being older than he looks, the First Years have designated Ortho as the "puppy" of their pack.