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eruden-writes · 2 years

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Scent Match - Part 2

(Note: Started with an anon asking for the phrase prompt, "Oh. Oh.")

Summary: When Amber Dyer decided to attend a Creator Con, she never expected to run into Of Wolf and Blood lycan hearthrob, Augustine Prime.

But, there he was, stooping over her table, asking to buy the unflattering drawing of his character. Valuing integrity over taking money from a celebrity and running (though she was sorely tempted,) Amber finishes the sketch and delivers it to Augustine.

However, he continues to doggedly pursue her and entwine their lives.

All because of her scent.

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☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Hours later, Amber found herself sitting on a bench in the corridor that led to the VIP section. It had to be a large meeting hall, she decided, after a bit of watching. Con staff flew in and out of the door, some bringing in food and drink while others checked papers on clipboards while appearing stressed. Thanks to room dividers expertly placed just inside the doorway, no wayward fans could even glimpse the bigshots inside.

Anxiety clawed up her back as she stared down at the sketchbook laying atop her thick thighs. For now, it was closed, but she could feel the damned drawing burning a hole in her sense of propriety. She really should just forget about this. Augustine paid upfront and likely wouldn’t even remember her or her silly little art.

“So are we going in?” Next to Amber, Addie piped up. She twirled her bright pink curls - a voluminous wig - around her index finger while noisily snapping her gum. Beside her friend, Amber felt a little dull in her jeans and tee-shirt and hoodie. Addie had brought her A+ cosplay game with the low-cut and high-hemline intricate dress of a popular character from a dating sim.

Closing her eyes, Amber took a steadying breath. Her friend refused to be left at the booth while she made this particular delivery. Which meant Amber had to wait near Artist Alley closing to give Augustine his… commission. Though she couldn't blame Maddie for her disbelief. Amber barely believed her story herself. “Give me a minute.”

“This isn’t helping your credibility, Amby," Addie giggled, a wry grin curled at her lips.

When Amber's eyes opened she shot Addie a frown. This had been a repeated topic of conversation since Maddie heard what happened. “How else do you think our cashbox was so much heavier?”

“Good question." Addie leaned back, making a show of considering Amber's words with a chin-stroking hand and over-the-top hum. With a snap of her fingers, she grinned at Amber and wiggled her eyebrows as she guessed, “Maybe you did do a commission for someone while I was gone, but not for Augustine Prime. Did you take my advice and start taking NSFW comms?”

“No, I haven’t.” Not that Amber hadn't considered that potentiality, but it wasn't exactly something she wanted to discuss in the middle of a busy hall.

That was the kick in the pants she needed to get moving. Pushing herself to her feet, Amber strode to the attendant near the door, Maddie trotting behind her.

The con staff by the door was a burly gargoyle, expression seemingly in a perpetual state of 'extremely not impressed.' They watched silently as Amber approached, only inclining their head as they asked, “Name and reason for entry?”

“A-Amber Dyer. I have a commission for Augustine Prime.” Trying not to feel like she was raising a shield, Amber held up her sketchbook. She immediately regretted that, as well. It was like a prop for a weak lie.

The attendant raised an eyebrow. “Do you now?”

Amber pressed her lips tightly together, before raising her chin. “Yes.”

Evidently put out, the gargoyle sighed and held out their hand. “We will make sure he receives it.”

“Fine,” she said after a beat of thought. They likely had to deal with all sorts of fans with harebrained schemes to get in and see their favorite stars. There was no point pressing the issue. If they throw her drawing away, she had already gotten paid, as well.

Having already paper clipped the drawing to a receipt and one of her business cards, Amber held the small stack to the attendant. “Can you please give him the art and his receipt?”

With a heavy sigh and a roll of their eyes, the attendant glanced down at both the drawing and the paper. Their expression pinched at the sight of the less-than-flattering caricature of Mr. Prime’s infamous character, their gaze flickis back up to Amber as if to gauge if this was a joke. She steadily met their eye, somber expression relaying that no, it wasn't a joke.

With a shake of their head, the attendant disappeared into the VIP Lounge without another word to Amber.

—

Inside the VIP Area, it was like an indoor caravan camping out under fluorescent lights. On the outer edges, cabana-like tents lined the walls. Each housed whoever had been wrangled into coming to the convention. TV show and movie casts, TouYuber celebrities, influencers from an array of social media, voice actors - who most often dipped from one cabana to another - and some notable pillars of various nerd communities.

In the middle of the large room, catering had been set up. Cellophane-wrapped sandwiches, rows of soft drinks and water, decadent cupcakes or other treats, plus a few tables from popular eateries. Screens in the corners of the room blared the schedule, which had mostly completed by this point of the day.

In the OWaB camp, Augustine currently sat in a chair, one leg thrown over an arm as his back leaned against the opposite side. “Do we have any media obligations tomorrow?”

“Our big one was done today. Showrunners and writers have a few panels or workshops tomorrow, I think,” answered Delilah, the actor that played the battle-hardened lycan protagonist of the show, stretched across a loveseat. Her sharp blue eyes angled to Augustine, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Don’t you have that charity auction?”

“Fuck, you're right. Winner gets to have dinner with me.” Augustine groaned, head flopping back against the chair’s arm. In a fit of theatrics, he threw his arm over his eyes for good measure.

“Why so bummed about it? Usually you enjoy being fought over.” From their own spot on the floor near an outlet, Camry shot Augustine a curious look. In their hands they held their tablet, currently plugged in.

“If that artist came by, I was hoping to ask them to dinner.” He sighed, slumping further in his chair as he slid his arm off his face.

Thinking of their face, eyes wide with shock and a pinch of a blush on their cheeks made something in his chest twist. The memory of their scent - indescribable and warm, twanging at something in his chest - coupled with the awry curiosity of how they’d feel under his palm. Though they had been sitting and somewhat obscured by a hoodie, he was aware enough they were curvy and round, certainly soft and warm. His fingers flexed, his imagination feeding him phantom sensations. “Guess I could ask them out tonight.”

Just as he finished, Theo entered with a tray piled high with catered food in hand. The human actor gave a knowing snort as they inclined their head to Augustine. “Talking about the smelly artist?”

“They’re not smelly. They’re fragrant. And you wouldn’t even be able to scent them.” Playfully, Augustine tossed a pillow at Theo. It had been a careless and sloppy throw, since the other man merely turned aside to block it from hitting his face.

“I’m pretty sure they’re not coming, Auggie.” Delilah hummed as her castmate shot her a dirty look. She gave a defensive shrug, her voice softening an iota, “From the way you tell it, I think they were off-put by you.”

“Easy $200 for them, that’s for sure,” Theo laughed as he settled down in an empty chair, placing his goodies on a nearby end table.

Augustine grumbled to himself, eyes glued back to his phone. He really should have dallied longer at the table and paid more attention. There was probably plenty there with their name or even online handles. He'd been flustered after finally locating the scent that had been plaguing him since arriving at the convention. He didn't know what he expected when he finally found it. Realizing it belonged to someone versus something just hadn't occurred to him.

“Mr. Prime, an artist dropped this off. Claimed it was for you.”

Those words made his head snap up so fast, his eyes apparently intense as the staff member nearly stumbled backward at his expression. Before Augustine could jump up and snatch the paper from the employee, one of his co-stars beat him to it.

“Oooh, I see what you mean," chuckled Theo, holding the paper at arm’s length while fending off Augustine with his other hand. “They definitely have a talent for catching your essence.”

“Lemme see!" Camry jumped up from the floor, making grabby hands at the innocuous piece of paper. Theo dropped it to them and they snatched it up like a monkey stealing fruit. As soon as they glimpsed it, a cackle escaped their lips.

A flare of heat licked up Augustine’s body, his wolf ears pinned back against his head and bristling tingles spread down his back as he lurched for Camry. “Oi, I should be the first one to look at it!”

Alas, he was too late as Delilah plucked the drawing from her shorter co-star. Sticking her tongue out at Augustine, she grinned and held it away from him, “Shouldn’t have been so slow about it.”

Glaring up at Delilah - usually his height, but currently given a slight advantage with her heeled boots - Augustine had to swallow down a frustrated growl. She smiled viciously down at him, blue eyes almost glowing with a challenge. The chemistry between Montos and Laira, in-show, was aided by the natural playfulness between the actors that often transmuted into challenges. Not to mention the fan-made enemies-to-lovers content that plagued the fandom sphere.

His gaze shifted from Delilah’s gaze to the paper, quietly agonized by the slight crumpledness after exchanging so many hands in such a careless manner. Not to mention the artist’s own scent being lost, obscured by his crewmates’ hands.

His pride was no match for the desire clawing at his thoughts. Ears and tail drooping, Augustine’s lips pursed as he held out his hand to his colleague. “Please, I don’t want it to rip.”

One of Delilah’s eyebrows jumped up, her ears flicking forward in quiet interest at his reaction. Her grin grew, flashing sharp teeth as she held the paper out to him. “Fine, fine. Put that diabolical pout away.”

Augustine had to temper his eagerness as he took the piece of art from her. Looking at it, it was much like how he remembered, except a little more refined. Overall, it was a wonderful caricature of Montos in his second season grimy glory, dirty and in tattered slack with a furred cloak. Mid-shifted his wolf ears peeked out from the mass of chaotic hair that haloed his head.

A beard stretched around his large sharp-toothed - if goofy - smile as he reached out to the viewer. Near his head, a line of fan favorite dialogue and oft-used nickname for Laira hovered: “I’ll give you a bone, Little Bitch.”

Indeed, in his slacks just before the image cut off, there was a hint of an excited bulge. Or maybe it was just a bump to let viewers infer Montos’s - ahem - size. Regardless, there was the implication of stuffing having been utilized, considering the edge of a coin sack stuck out from his trouser’s waistband.

His eyes continued to scan the drawing until he found what he had unconsciously been looking for. A scribble of a signature adorned an empty space near the bottom of it. Narrowing his eyes, Augustine realized it was too difficult to decipher. Damn.

“Bummer that they didn’t come in though, right?” At his elbow, Camry piped up, peering at the drawing once more with an amused smile.

“Yeah,” Augustine glanced up at the staff member who still lingered close, perhaps surprised by the delight over the unflattering and crude drawing, “Why didn’t you escort them to me?”

“They, uh, they weren’t on the list,” the gargoyle stammered, lifting their clipboard as if to provide evidence.

“Shit.” Augustine stared at the signature on the drawing, but no amount of squinting could decipher the squiggle. His head snapped up, gaze landing on the gargoyle once more. “Were they out in the hall when you came in?”

Relief fluttered through the attendant’s voice as they answered, “Yes, I can-”

They didn’t have a chance to finish as Augustine tore off for the exit.

—

Amber and Addie stood by the door for a few minutes, waiting for the staff member to return and formally dismiss them. At the very least, if Augustine did not accept the drawing, Amber wouldn’t have minded having it back.

Eventually, Amber sighed with a shrug, condemning herself to the thought of the drawing being pitched into a trashcan. “Guess that’s it.”

“I suppose so.” Disappointment made Addie’s demeanor slump a little. Trying to rally some humor, she shot Amber a teasing smile. “Still doesn’t prove he actually paid for it.”

“I know,” Amber groaned, her shoulders slumping as she exhaled and started down the hall. It didn’t really matter if Addie was believed or not. She herself knew the truth. Of course, that didn’t keep her friend from ribbing her, all the same.

There were a few moments of quiet as the two strolled further down the hall. Since they had packed up the booth early and now Artist Alley would be closing in fifteen minutes, there was no point in heading back.

“So, what should we do for foo-” A sudden commotion from behind interrupted Addie’s words. Alarmed, both women turned to spot whatever chaos was happening behind them.

A searing tingle shot down Amber’s body, watching as Augustine - with full almost-a-beard stubble already - approached while waving her drawing over his head.

Relief fluttered through Augustine the second he spotted them. They'd gotten aways down the hall, but not so far that Augustine couldn't shout at them. “Mx. Artist, your handwriting is terrible. I cannot make out your name!”

Movement at his feet caught her eye and she was startled to find him partially tangled in a curtain. She quickly recognized it was one of the room dividers. Her eyes flicked back to the door to the VIP section and, sure enough, staff were desperately trying to gather up the fallen pieces of the divider’s frame. One even tailed after Mr. Prime, weakly calling after him.

Had he seriously barreled through privacy screens just to catch her?

She watched as he kicked off the curtain - to which the con staff member gratefully collected the fabric - and trotted the rest of the way to her. Dazedly, Amber mumbled, “My business card is attached to the receipt.”

Augustine blinked, glanced down at the paper in his hand, then flipped it over. Indeed, stapled to the back was her business card. For overlooking that, he'd blame his co-stars and their teasing. He plucked it from the paper, careful to not completely ruin either receipt or card, before peering at it.

AMBER DYER She/Her/They/Them Artist - Writer Creator of Hell’s Promise

As he scrutinized her business card, Amber dutifully ignored Addie’s bugged eyes and barely contained excitement. It was harder to ignore the buzz around her or now the other woman grabbed onto Amber’s arm. It didn’t help that a flush threatened to burn over Amber’s cheeks every time her friend’s big eyes jumped from herself to the actor.

Something in Amber's chest jolted as Augustine looked back at her, that damn charming smile on his lips. “Ms. Dyer, please come back. My co-stars want to meet you.”

“Why?” Taken aback, Amber wasn't even able to censure herself.

Her seeming surprise at simple actions tickled at Augustine’s senses. It was charming, he thought. In response to her, his smile tilted crookedly and he brought his hand to his chin. “They said you captured my essence perfectly.”

“You showed other people?” Amber blanched as her checks heated up. The drawing hadn’t even been her best work. Hells, it had been subpar and kind of mean, if she was being honest! Did his reportedly tight-knit castmates want to rake her across the coals for it?

She was certain he was just low-key harassing her by asking for the drawing. Other than it being some weird powerplay, what explanation was there?

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” A breathy chuckle escaped him as he shot Amber a curious look. Was it so hard to believe he’d want to let others see it? “That’s the point of art, right? To show people.”

Oh, this way something her brain could understand. Amber latched onto his flippant words, eager to gain some footing of understanding in a world that made nose sense. “I mean, there’s other reasons. Why we make art is a philosophical-”

“Ugh, don’t start in on that boring stuff!” Addie finally butted in, shaking Amber's arm dramatically. She flashed a delighted smile in the actor's direction as Amber was startled into silence. “We’d love to come meet your co-stars!”

Still smiling, but blinking blankly, Augustine registered the other person's presence for the first time. They were shorter than the artist and seemed to be wearing a cosplay he couldn't place. Generically attractive, with a round face and full lips upturned with vague amusement at the corners. Pleasant to look at, but something in the air around them put him on edge.

Tilting his head to her, his own lips mirrored her faint grin. “We?”

“I’m Addie Kline, she/her! Amber’s friend, roomie, and the one who talked her into even coming to the con." Addie's chest puffed out as she stepped forward, hand jutted out in a demanding request for a handshake. A sly expression crossed her features as she eyed Augustine. "If it wasn't for me, Amber wouldn't even have attended!"

“Ah, well, the more the merrier.” Augustine's expression brightened, now silently thankful to this previously ignored attendee. He took her hand, giving it an enthusiastic shake. “Are you a fan of the show?”

“Big OWaB fan since day one! I can’t forgive the writers for leaving us on such a heinous cliffhanger last season.” Addie released Amber’s arm, stepping closer to Augustine. Her voice dropped low, into faux inconspicuous territory, as she asked, “Between you and me, care to share what might be in store, Mr. Montos?”

He made a show of glancing around and Amber had to bite back a smile as overt eagerness radiated from Addie. When the man stooped closer to the other woman, Amber involuntarily held her breath.

“There are too many prying ears here,” he growled, using his character’s lilt. The corners of his lips twitched a little as his attention flicked to Amber, watching her expression carefully.

“If you two wish to accompany me…” He let the pause languish as he curled a lip in a mean smile, running his tongue over his sharp teeth before finishing with a bit of gravel, “Perhaps I can be persuaded to talk.”

He couldn’t actually reveal anything, but talking around the questions was something he had learned for media interviews.

Amber bit her tongue to keep from reacting to his eyes gliding over to her. The way his tone shifted, becoming more like Montos, sent shivering sensations over her body. Judging from the way his smile twitched, she thought he knew she was reacting like that. Which only convinced her to batten down against the sensation more.

It didn’t help that others were stopping and staring, snapping photos with their phone and whispering. That realization sent another sizzle of heat through her.

He offered a hand to the bubbly woman, who delightedly took it, before offering his other to Amber. At the very edges of his awareness, her scent taunted him. Despite the relatively scant distance, the urge to bury himself against her throat burned at his thoughts.

She stared at his appendage like it was a venomous snake. A quick glance to Addie, noting her smug look and slight nod as she leaned into the man’s side, finally convinced her to give in.

With a sigh, Amber Dyer took Augustine Prime's hand, happy to be led somewhere less public.

Hopefully, she could get her head on straight by the time they made it to meet his co-stars.

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☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

If you like my content, please consider supporting me on:

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#exo writing #exophilia #werewolf #lycan #monster lover #monster fucker #werewolf x human #monster x human #romance story #monster boyfriend #monster himbo #himbo #this is going to get wild so please engage your suspension of disbelief #lol #I didn't realize I named so many characters with an A so... I'm sorry

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thegamingcatmom · 5 hours

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Hi! :3

I come bringing question(s) mostly just one, I have recently started cooking something and I am debating wether I want Miri to be saved or not. Well "save her" i kind of think is a strong word bc she may be unhinged enough to have crossed the point of no return but who cares about that?

My question is, you think Miri is like evil for real? Or you think she has been manipulated by 'The Black God'? I have been reading some crazy theories and stuff so my mind is racing with million ideas mind you, kinda chaotic up there. Like she certainly is no saint, nobody in that forsaken village is but here we are, simping over all of da women, sins ain't stopping us from doing so XD

Their sins are the reason we simp for them. 😏❤️‍🔥

Right so, I know a lot of fics and theories portray Miranda as this divine being/demigod who was sent to bring Judgement or smt. For some, she is The Black God. However-

The Black God is actually the name Miranda herself chose for The Megamycete, also because it holds enough power that bringing back Eva seems entirely possible. As a result, she proclaimed herself a prophet of "The Black God" and started her cult. In other words: "Mother" Miranda was born.

So, what does that tell us?

That whole priestess persona is as much of a disguise as the Old Hag (which she uses to spy on the villagers). She has to keep her flock in check somehow, and what better way to do that than by parading as their sheperd? She´s basically a wolf in sheep´s clothing, snatching them up one by one (to experiment on them) without any of them noticing.

So, there´s no divinity involved here. Not really. Miranda draws all her power from the Megamycete aka The Fungus Root - an ancient entity that stores the genetics as well as the consciousness and memories of those it has come in contact with.

As for whether Miranda is actually evil? Hm...that depends on what you define as "evil". I like to think that there´s never just "good" or "evil". Life´s not that simple.

Like, let´s look at some of the facts here:

Miranda abducted Mia and experimented on her for (probs) multiple reasons. One of them being that she needed her DNA in order to take on her form and infiltrate the Winters household.

She played dead when Chris shot her because she knew it would be the easiest way to "rid" herself of her problems and escape with Rose into the night.

(She´s literally so cunning, I can´t-)

She unleashed the Lycans on the villagers because she had no further use for them.

But also to feed them to The Megamycete and thus, ensuring its power would be sufficient for the ceremony.

She checked the Village to make sure there weren´t any survivors left.

She killed the last one herself (Iulian).

Miranda divided Rose into several pieces. Not just to experiment with them, but also because it kept Ethan busy.

BUT HERE´S THE THING:

She gave each of the Lords one piece because she knew Ethan would kill in his quest to retrieve them.

Miranda basically used Ethan to rid herself of her "children".

She always planned on killing them.

She killed Ethan when he outlived his purpose, meaning she had no further use for him.

All of Shadows of Rose (haven´t played that one yet, but Ik Miranda is even more unhinged in this one)

Sooo, does that make her evil? Some would say yes, others would say she was driven by grief and sorrow over losing her only child. I say-

It´s complicated, lol.

No one is ever entirely "good" or "evil". It´s a mix of both and whether it leans more in either direction depends on your experiences and goals in life, as well as the minds you surround yourself with. And lots of other stuff that would take a lot more than one tumblr post to fully cover. The human psyche is a mystery, after all. 🧠🧐

I do believe no one is beyond redemption, though. Like I said, nobody is ever just evil, that´s a rather naive way to perceive the world, imo. While some certainly lean more in that direction than others, it´s not what makes them, yknow? Nobody is "born" evil, so we shouldn´t reduce them to their worst qualities. Instead, we should help them get better because that will ultimately lead to a better world. ✌️

Thanks a lot for your ask! 💋

#tumblr asks #resident evil 8 #re 8 #resident evil village #re village #mother miranda

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furiarossa · 5 months

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hey @furiarossa could you give me a quick summary about the types of werewolves in you're. I know a bit about the golden wolfen. But not much else about the other breeds.

Hi anon, thank you for your question! We like to talk about our species :)

Our "werewolves", or in general sentient (and sometimes humanoid) wolf-beast species, are divided in two categories:

Werewolves (genus Lupus) and Lycanthropes (genus Homolupus).

They're quite different from each other! In our version, werewolves can't (at least not naturally) transform into humans, while lycans are shapeshifters.

+ Werewolves +

One of our werewolves, Mark McWoodland:

For reasons that we will talk about at length later, there are no very in-depth studies regarding the origins of this fascinating species, but it is believed that the most probable ancestor is the Xenocyon lycaonoides, a large canid that lived in the Pleistocene, between 1.8 million years and 30,000 years ago. Interestingly, werewolves share this (probable) common ancestor with aurolupus werewolves. According to some, repeated crossings with werewolves have over time modified the rough appearance of werewolves to bring them to the "version" known to us today, although they are not capable of changing shape, but this is only a theory that is not supported by many scholars.

At first glance, the werewolf resembles a werewolf in its "full moon form" in several ways: it is a large canid with long arms, with big and vaguely anthropomorphic hands, capable of walking upright on its hind legs although it prefers to move on all fours. the limbs, with a gait similar to that of gorillas. In reality it differs consistently from a werewolf: it is not capable of transforming, it has longer and more robust arms, a long bushy tail (werewolves often have vestigial or even absent tails), shorter and more bowed legs, dark and proportionately large nails, but the first difference perceived by eye is the size.

If werewolves during the full moon often have a size slightly larger than that of their human form, werewolves instead exhibit a shocking size, with a height always higher than two meters, long muscular arms and very large hands with strong curved claws that can be used to dig, climb trees or buildings, and grab prey. Although this size is renowned and the danger of these beasts is exalted in stories, when you find yourself in front of one of them, often seeing it come out of its lair from which it does not go far, you cannot help but be surprised by their large and strong bodies, albeit with a slender bone structure.

Subspecies/races:

Irish werebeast (Lupus hominarium rubrum)

Small African werewolf or cefusa (Lupus hominarium africanus)

Polar bear (Lupus hominarium arctus)

Lupunaru (Lupus hominarium italicum)

Brown of Valvulcano (Lupus hominarium vulcanorum) – extinct

Size difference between a medium-sized true lycanthrope (Homolupus homolupus) and a medium-sized werewolf:

+ Lycanthropes +

Homolupus is a genus of shapeshifters that includes three species, including one extinct, and is considered the most widely studied and known of all the shapeshifter genera. The scientific name comes from the Latin homo, "man" and lupus, "wolf". Curiously, the common name by which the genus is known has a similar meaning, but comes from the Greek λύκος lýkos, "wolf" and ἄνθρωπος ánthropos, "man".

Taxonomy

The genus Homolupus represents one of those already described in the first drafts of De lupus et homo.

Only three species are currently ascribed to the genus:

Homolupus homolupus (true lycanthropes)

Homolupus auratus (aurolupus or goldenwolfen)

Homolupus horribilis (White Terror) †

In detail:

The true lycan (Homolupus homolupus), also called wolf-woman or wolf-man, is the type species of the Homolupus genus, the most numerous and best studied. Spread throughout the world, with over 24 subspecies, it boasts wonderful genetic variability and is the sentient non-human creature that appears most in all terrestrial mythologies, as well as in a variable number of alien stories and pantheons. The scientific name comes from the Latin homo, "man" and lupus, "wolf". Curiously, the common name by which the genus is known has a similar meaning, but comes from the Greek λύκος lýkos, "wolf" and ἄνθρωπος ánthropos, "man".

One of our true lycans, Thomas Wolf, in his full moon form:

The aurolupus (also known as goldenwolfen) are a species of canine/primate shapeshifter very often confused with true lycanthropes (Homolupus homolupus) or werewolves (Lupus hominarium), but capable of hybridizing with both. They are extremely rare and dangerous. Often they sport sable/yellow/ochre fur color, and that's from where their name comes from (aurus is the latin name for gold).

Here all the possible colors for their coats:

The White Terror (extinct)

White terrors are an extinct species of lycans belonging to the homolupus genus, particularly known for their unpredictable and aggressive temperament, as well as for their often white or light gray fur, which allows them to disappear completely in the snow.

White Terrors are instantly recognizable when compared to other werewolves due to their long snout that resembles that of a borzoi and their dense, wavy fur. Usually the ears, being sensitive to the cold, are kept folded and carefully hidden in the thick mane.

Hybridization

The genetic "flexibility" of werewolves is admirably shown in the ability to interbreed with other species, sometimes even belonging to different families, producing fertile offspring. Hybridization generally occurs with individuals belonging to one of the two species with which werewolves have cohabited in vast areas for millennia, namely humans and werewolves.

We have a lot more of informations about them, with entire pages posted online, but they're in Italian, so... maybe it's better to not link there here? Or maybe yes, in case someone who can understand Italian is interested:

About werewolves

About aurolupus lycans

About Incendiary mastiffs (not quite werewolves, these are demons, but they're still canine-looking shapeshifters!)

#ask #werewolves #lycanthrope #worldbuilding #the way of legends #answered ask #fantasy #about our species

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bucky-fricking-barnes · 2 years

Text

Wild (3/4)

Pairing: Lycanthrope!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Very mild innuendos, Russian text (translations at the end)

Summary: Over the years, Y/N has found that in times of great need, a wolf appears to aid her. She relies on its presence until one day, her wolf is in need of her help instead.

A/N: This fic contains some brief phrases and one conversation in Russian. There are translations at the bottom of the fic, but for those who are curious, the conversation contains no information that has not already been explained in English, as it is mostly backstory being explained to Natasha. Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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“You’ve already met all of the family I have,” you tell him. “Nat took care of me after you led me to that village. It’s always been the two of us against the world, and now I have you, too.”

“You both do. Natasha is part of your pack, so she’ll be part of mine, too, if she wishes.”

The front door slams open, bringing with it a gust of wind, a flurry of snowflakes, and a very cold Natasha. Her forearms are laden with grocery bags and there’s a mysterious mass of brown, snowflake-covered fluff tucked up against her side.

“Y/N? A little help?”

Bucky’s out of his seat before you can stop him, taking the bags from her without a second thought. You watch in horror from your spot at the table as he manhandles them away from her and heads into the kitchen without another word. The brown fuzzy thing falls to the floor, just out of reach of the quickly melting snow. Natasha stands in front of the open door, a million emotions crossing her features. She’s already spotted you and can tell that you’re safe and not on edge, which means she knows that Bucky’s not a threat, but you know that she’s definitely suspicious.

She’s probably already figured out the best ten ways to corner and kill him, you think in a panic.

Quickly, you get up from the chair and close the front door, then help her out of her coat. Melted snow drips onto the floor at your feet. Now that you’re closer, you realize that the brown lump of fluff beside you is a dog bed, and your comments from this morning pop back into your head.

“Who is he?” she whispers, glancing back towards the kitchen. Bucky’s putting the groceries away, no doubt in the correct spots after watching the two of you cook and clean for months now, and you can hear him humming to himself as he works. Something tells you that if you stopped to listen, it would be something you liked.

“His name is Bucky,” you quietly explain. “And he’s the wolf.”

She pauses to stare at you with one boot off. Nat’s standing with socked feet in a puddle of melted snow but doesn’t even seem to notice.

“You’re kidding.”

You shake your head. “No. He’s a lycanthrope. Er, a lycan. Apparently we both are, him and me.”

Natasha blinks. “You’re a lycanthrope?” she asks, and you nod. “I thought those were just a myth. Since when are—”

“I didn’t know. If I had, I would’ve told you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Синица,” she assures you, and instantly your nerves are soothed. She grabs your hands and squeezes them both between her own gloved fingers, smiling softly. Her nose and ears are pink from the cold and there are quickly melting snowflakes tucked into the fiery red of her hair. Natasha always looks right at home in the cold, and she wears it well. “I believe you, and I’m not angry with you. Now come, I want to interrogate your new wolf friend.”

“He’s not new,” you say, grinning. After prying off her second boot, she forces you to loop your arm with hers and practically drags you to the kitchen, where she continues to ignore her wet socks in favor of staring down Bucky.

He’s at the freezer, frowning hard as he rearranges it to make room for the new additions Natasha had picked up at the store. You watch in amused silence as he works, until finally he closes the door and turns to face the two of you.

“Natalia,” he greets, bowing his head slightly. “Меня зовут Джеймс Бьюкенен Барнс, и я не причиню вреда.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him. “Y/N говорит, что ты ликантроп и что ты им был еще до того, как спас ее. Ты помогал ей все эти годы только для того, чтобы залезть к ней в штаны?”

He shakes his head and you look between the two of them. You’ve been able to learn some Russian over the years, but they’re talking too quickly for you to do anything but pick out a few words and phrases. The ones you do know make you want to crawl into a hole.

“Я родился ликантропом и был узником ГИДРЫ в то же время, что и Т/И. Они ставили эксперименты на мне, и я почти уверен, что они использовали мою ДНК, чтобы мутировать ее. Мне жаль. Из-за этого мы связаны. Она попросила меня остаться, но если ты хочешь, чтобы я ушел, я уйду,” he says.

Bucky sounds good—gorgeous, even—when he’s speaking another language, and you could truly listen to him all day, but you’re also fed up.

“Enough!” You pull your arm from Natasha’s to cross them both over your chest, giving them an irritated look. “In English, please! Some of us are still learning!”

“Immersion is the best way to learn,” Bucky teases, and you narrow your eyes at him.

Natasha laughs. “I think I like him.”

Scowling, you stomp back into the living room and grab the dog bed from where Natasha had dropped it. They’re watching you from the kitchen doorway with matching satisfied smirks on their faces, and you shake the bed at Bucky.

“I’ll make you sleep on this,” you threaten. “Don’t think I won’t!”

He laughs, a deep, rolling laugh that echoes in the cabin and in your soul, and you tense slightly against the bolt of lightning that zips down your spine at the sound. Your smirk wavers.

“I was rather hoping we wouldn’t sleep tonight, Маленький,” Bucky says. “I’d like to take you for a run.”

Natasha chokes and ducks around him, heading back into the kitchen for a bottle of water. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

“Not like that!” you clarify, hoping you’re loud enough for her to hear over the hum of the ancient refrigerator. “He literally means running!”

The smug look on his face hasn’t faltered and you scoff, tossing the dog bed at him. Bucky easily catches it with one hand and grips the brown fluff until it’s completely squashed under his fingers.

“It will be a good experience for you. I promise to keep you safe.”

Though you’re thoroughly discombobulated after the day you’ve had, you nod. His face lights up with joy, which makes your own stomach flutter. The intensity of his emotions almost knocks you off your feet and you have the fleeting thought that if you can feel what he’s feeling, he can feel what you feel as well.

“If we’re going to be up all night, I’m going to go nap now,” you say, and he nods in agreement.

“I’ll probably join you.”

You freeze. He can’t be serious, you think. He didn’t mean that the way I think he means, right?

“Everything okay?” Bucky asks.

“You’re going to… join me?” you ask him, frowning. “As in…?”

He seems to catch on quickly and his eyes widen slightly. “Oh. No, I’m sorry, I’m not used to being in my human form. It’s been years since I’ve been human around other people. Um… I’ll take the couch.”

Bucky steps further into the living room and nods at the couch pushed up against the wall. It faces the window and it’s entirely too small for him, and you immediately feel bad.

“There’s no way I’m letting you sleep on the couch. It’s way too small. Take my bed,” you say. When he goes to argue, you shake your head. “Bucky, the couch isn’t big enough for you. We’ll figure something out later, but for now, just sleep in my room. Okay?.”

Natasha pokes her head in from the kitchen. “Y/N can sleep in my bed for right now, I have some work I need to do in the living room anyway and it would just keep her up.”

You send her a grateful look before heading towards the hallway. Her room is the farthest, so when Bucky murmurs your name, you have to turn around to see if you’d actually heard him correctly.

“I know this is a lot,” he says, his voice soft. Natasha has good hearing, but not good enough that she’ll be able to hear any kind of quiet conversation the two of you have in the hallway. He’s smart enough to know that, and you know that he’s being this quiet on purpose.

“It is,” you confirm. You wrap your arms around yourself, watching him closely.

“For what it’s worth, you’re handling it well. There aren’t many of us around anymore. Most of my kind—our kind,” he corrects, “died off a long time ago, but I remember when I was little and my pack would come across a lycan that didn’t know their true self. It was always a big adjustment for them, and there’s not much any of us can do to help.”

Smiling just a little, you nod. “Thanks, Bucky. I’ll see you in a few hours?”

You grab the handle on Natasha’s room and wait until he nods, then enter. As you close the door behind you, you sigh in relief. You need some time to process, and Nat’s little sanctuary is one of the best places you can think of to do that. Her room is warm and cozy, filled with lots of blankets and stacks of books you know she’s read time and time again. You know that the atmosphere of the room is the exact opposite of what she had before she retired, and it’s an intentional change. She needed something that felt like home, you’d said, and after a year of living in the cabin, she’d started to agree with you. Since then, she’s read through most of the library in town, and every winter you notice that she adds at least one new blanket. It’s not unusual for her to have candles burning or soft lighting on as she relaxes, and there have been many nights where you’ve spread her blankets out of the floor and slept beside her after a nightmare. Her room is the pinnacle of safety, in your mind, though now Bucky has started to work his way into that picture.

It takes you a few minutes to make a comfortable nest in the center of her mattress, but once you’re settled under the covers, you close your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep. It doesn’t take you long, especially after your mind drifted to thoughts of Bucky’s face softened by moonlight.

You wake again to Natasha shaking you, a small smile on her lips. She’s holding a mug in one hand and has her hair clipped up, clueing you into the fact that she’s just begun her nighttime routine. You sit up in the bed and squint at the darkness outside the window.

“It’s just past ten, Синица,” she tells you. She sips her tea and sits in the plush chair she’d found at a thrift store months ago. It rocks a little as she settles and pulls a blanket over her lap, then sets the mug down on the small side table nearby. She grabs her book, completely nonplussed by your owlish stare.

“Ten?” you finally ask.

Natasha looks up at you over the top of the pages. “10:14, to be exact.”

“I slept until after ten?”

She sighs and closes the book again, using her finger to keep her place. “You clearly needed the rest,” she replies. “You had an exciting morning.”

You scoff at her and swing your legs over the side of the bed, shoving blankets off of you. “That’s putting it mildly.”

"How are you doing?”

“Fine, I guess,” you shrug. Standing, you adjust your clothes where they’ve twisted around you in your sleep, then glance over at her. “You don’t seem very surprised by all of this.”

“I’ve seen a lot of strange things in my life, Y/N,” Natasha tells you. There’s a hint of a smile on her face as she picks up her mug with her free hand to take a sip. “You turning into a wolf is hardly at the top of the list.”

“And you’re okay with me just running off in the middle of the night with the strange man who also happens to be a lycan?”

“Do you want me to object?” She’s teasing you, you know she is, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. You know that she wants you to admit that you’d love to run off with Bucky and that even her objecting wouldn’t stop you.

“Come on, Синица,” she sighs, setting her mug back on the side table. “You clearly have some kind of…” She waves her hand around. “Connection with him.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Let me finish.” She leans forward to smack the side of your thigh with the book and you swat at her. “He’s helped you through a lot of rough times in your life, and you’ve done the same for him. It’s only natural that you want to spend time together. Maybe that desire will fade, maybe not, but you can still learn a lot from him, right?”

“Right.”

“So learn,” she says, gesturing towards the door. It’s shut tight, but the light from the hallway shines in through the crack at the bottom. If you’re quiet, you can hear Bucky shuffling things around in the kitchen. “If you’re not going to think of him as a potential lover—”

“Natasha!”

She’s grinning. “—then think of him as a tutor, of sorts.”

"You’re disgusting.”

“Go have fun on your midnight run, Синица.” Nat draws out the nickname, teasing you as you hurry out of her room.

Almost immediately after slamming the bedroom door shut behind you, you run into Bucky. He’s standing outside your room with a mug in one hand and a plate of food in the other. It smells heavenly.

“Good morning,” he says, a slow smile growing on his face.

Your cheeks burn under his gaze. “It’s technically night.”

That’s the best response you could’ve come up with? No wonder Nat’s teasing you, you scold yourself. Don’t act like some lovesick teenager.

Bucky’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Well, goodnight then. I made you something to eat and some coffee. You’re going to need your strength tonight. Running as a wolf takes more energy than as a human, even more so because you’re not used to it.”

Nodding, you take the plate and the mug. The coffee is still hot, but a tentative sip tells you that he’s gotten your drink exactly right. You raise an eyebrow at him and surprisingly, Bucky looks sheepish.

“I caught on to what you like to eat and drink a few days after you saved me,” he admits. “Does it taste okay?”

You nod again and offer him a small smile now that you’re feeling a bit more grounded in his presence. “It does. Thank you, Bucky.”

He smiles back, then turns and heads back down the hallway. You follow him to the kitchen, where the two of you settle at the table in front of the sliding doors. It’s dark outside as he begins to eat his own plate of food. You can’t help but notice that the portions are much larger than you would’ve normally served anybody, but somehow it doesn’t feel like too much.

Carefully, you settle down in the seat across from him and begin to eat. Bucky’s a good cook, despite having spent so long in his wolf body, and soon your plate is clean. You hum approvingly and sip your coffee when you finish, relaxing back in your chair.

“Good?” he asks, and you nod in response. “My ma taught me how to make that recipe when I was first old enough to help her. It’s been a long time since I’ve made it.”

"It’s one of the best things I’ve ever eaten,” you tell him honestly. The kitchen falls silent as the two of you sip your coffee. You watch the snow that still falls outside for a few moments before looking back at him. “Were you close with your family?”

It takes a second, but Bucky nods. “I was,” he answers. His voice is soft and thick with emotion, and there’s an accent there that you hadn’t noticed before. Despite its familiarity, you can’t quite place it. “Ma was one of the greatest people I’ve ever known. She was beautiful and smart and she could make anything you could ever dream of in the kitchen. I had a little sister too—Becca.”

“How old is she?”

“She was 20 when I was taken. I was 26.” Bucky cradles his mug of coffee between his hands, staring down into it. His drink is almost as dark as the sky outside and you make a mental note that he drinks his coffee black. You want to be able to return the favor of making him something to eat and drink someday, hopefully soon.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, and he nods.

A few minutes pass in silence. You listen to Natasha shuffle around down the hall as she gets ready for bed, and then you hear the light click off in her room. Bucky stands and collects the dishes, leaving you with your half-empty mug of coffee while he starts to load the dishwasher.

“I can do that,” you offer. He shakes his head, not bothering with a verbal response, but you get the message. You’ve prodded him with enough personal questions today and he wants the silence. He wants to keep busy until the main event of your evening arrives.

Finally, Bucky places the last dish onto the top rack and closes the door. You meet his eyes and he nods.

“So how does this work?” you ask as you stand.

He slides open the door to the backyard and you immediately shiver when a gust of frigid air pushes through into the kitchen. Snowflakes flutter inside and though every part of you is telling you that it’s not wise to go out without a coat, or even shoes, you follow him out and let him shut the door behind you. The tiny wooden deck attached to the back of the house is covered with snow and your feet are already stinging from the cold.

“Now all we have to do is shift. We’ll run until you get tired and then I’ll bring you back home. I’ll probably want to run longer after that, but you can come inside and sleep. You’ll sleep for a while, I’m sure. The first run is always the most exhilarating, but also the most exhausting. I can still remember mine clearly. I slept for fourteen hours when I finally returned home,” Bucky explains.

You gawk at him. “Fourteen hours?”

He nods, a hint of pride in his eyes. Even his chin lifts slightly and you have to hold back a chuckle. “But I ran for a full eight.”

Judging by his expression, you can tell that that’s a lot, even though you have nothing to base it on. You smile accordingly and hope you’re acting impressed enough as Bucky leads you to the edge of the forest. You’re practically wading through the snow and you start to wonder if you’ll even be able to run in this weather. Bucky doesn’t seem concerned, however, so you push the worry away.

“To shift into your wolf form, you’ll need to try and picture what you look like, or what it felt like to be a wolf. It’ll be easier if you can think of both those things at once,” he tells you.

The nervousness trickles back into your mind as your smile fades, and you nod. Swallowing thickly, you close your eyes and exhale slowly to try and calm your racing heart.

"Easy, Y/N,” Bucky soothes. You feel his hand on the back of your head, and then it traces over your body down to the small of your back. It should feel weird—nobody except Natasha has touched you so affectionately in so long—but instead, it feels natural. It soothes your ragged nerves and you feel your shoulders relax as his hand lingers. His warmth is noticeable through your shirt, even in the freezing winter air.

“You have that picture in your head now?” he murmurs, and you nod. “Good. Picture yourself as your wolf, and then reach for it.”

Confused, you hesitantly raise one hand and reach away from your body, grasping at nothing. Bucky chuckles, and then you feel his hand around yours. He laces your fingers together and you open your eyes. You turn your head to meet his gaze, and he’s smiling fondly at you.

“You’re funny, Маленький.”

Heat blossoms in your cheeks at his praise, and you silently preen under his doting stare. The next time you hear he speaks, his voice echoes in your head rather than in your ears.

“Good job, Y/N. How do you feel?”

You frown at him, confused by the question. Nothing has happened yet. “Fine, why?”

Bucky chuckles. “You shifted. How do you feel?”

It takes a second, but you realize after a second that he’s right. You have shifted, and you don’t feel that much different than before.

The world around you seems like a whole new world, though it’s just your backyard. You turn in a circle, taking in the different smells and sounds that you couldn’t sense before. It’s warmer now, too, and you attribute that to your thick gray coat. Everything is taller. Before, the dark muddled the trees and the snow clouded your vision, but now you can see clearly. Everything seems sharper and a lot easier to decipher.

When you turn back to Bucky, he’s shifted as well. The snowflakes disappear into his fur and he’s the picture of majesty standing in the moonlight amongst the dark evergreens. It’s breathtaking. You step forward, approaching him on impulse, but he ruins the picture and stops you in your tracks when he bows down like a dog ready to play, his tail wagging and tongue sticking out.

You snort. “Are you serious?”

“Maybe. Bet you can’t catch me,” he shoots back.

Narrowing your eyes, you huff. A puff of white rises in front of you when your breath hits the nighttime air. “And if I do?” you ask.

“I’ll cook you dinner every night for a week.”

“A month.”

“Two weeks.”

“On your mark—”

Bucky dashes into the forest before you can even finish the phrase and you bark, then leap into action. You’re panting as you chase him, dodging trees and jumping over fallen logs like you’d been doing it since birth. The snow does little to slow either of you down, and it’s not until you’re scrambling to the top of a pile of rocks that you realize just how far from the cottage you’ve gotten. You’re barely even winded, and the thought makes your heart soar.

You can see the cottage in the distance, just past the treeline. The windows are dark and if you didn’t trust Bucky as much, you would have been worried that you didn’t leave a light on to help you find your way home. Up above, the moon shines bright over the forest, illuminating the bare branches laden with thin lines of snow. There are no animals in sight, but you know that if you were to come to this very spot any other time of year, you’d be gifted with the sight of baby birds in their nests. There would be squirrels chasing each other and foxes slinking through the brush, and everything would be humming with the energy of new life. Now, however, it’s calm and still. You understand why Bucky likes to run at night.

Stars twinkle above you too, and you marvel at the sight. They’re clearer now that you’re a wolf. Somehow, though you’re not truly surprised, you can tell exactly which one points you north, and you can smell the smoke from another cabin’s fireplace coming from the east.

The view is distracting enough that you almost miss Bucky ducking for cover near a large snow bank. Silently, you drop down and crawl off the rocks, all the while trying to keep your approach quiet and emotions steady. You haven’t been a lycan for long, but you’ve learned enough to know that either one of those things could give you away. He could very easily pick up on your sense of victory or the soft crunch of snow beneath your paws.

Bucky has his back to you when you peek around the side of the bank. His ears are pricked, like he’s listening for you, but he doesn’t react until you’re practically on top of him. When you’re there, he flips onto his back and the two of you wrestle until he gives. You nip at his ear before giving him space, panting as you stand a few feet away.

“You’re a fast learner,” he finally says, and you can feel the warmth he feels for you in the center of your chest.

You’re almost bashful as you reply, “You’re a good teacher. And you were right, this is fun. Is it always like this when you have a pack?”

He starts walking and you come alongside him, matching your steps to his. “Sometimes,” Bucky replies. “We have fights, just like all families do, but our bonds with each other are deeper. When you’re part of a pair, your mate can feel what you feel. It’s part of what separates us from werewolves.”

His words make you pause, but you quickly right yourself. Mates?

“Does that make us mates?” you ask.

Bucky stops and looks over at you. “What?”

“Are we mates?”

“We barely know each other, Y/N. How could we be mates?”

You hesitate. “Well, I can feel what you feel. Can’t you?”

He falls silent, staring at you.

“Bucky?” you prompt. Your heart sinks to your stomach as he continues to stare at you in utter silence.

Have I done something wrong? Is that not something you’re supposed to talk about? Is there something wrong with me because I can sense his emotions? Does he already have a mate?

Finally, he answers, stopping your whirling thoughts in their tracks. “I didn’t think you’d catch on so quickly. I was hoping I had more time to figure it out.”

“Figure it out?” You glance around the woods. “Are we really mates? Is that true?”

He nods, cautious. His fear and apprehension slips in past your defenses, worming its way into your heart. You whine and shift uncomfortably. It’s hard to tell if it’s just his fear alone or if you’re feeling the same way.

“We are, yeah,” he murmurs. He steps forward, entering your personal space, and rests his head against yours for a moment. The proximity soothes your nerves and you exhale slowly as he steps away again.

“So… what does that mean, exactly?”

Bucky sits. His ears twitch slightly when an owl hoots and the wind blows through, swirling more snow into the air around you. You copy him and wait for him to speak again.

“It means that we have a deeper connection that you will with other lycans, like Steve. You won’t be able to sense them and you won’t feel at ease around them. Being someone’s mate doesn’t determine your relationship with that person though, like it does with animals. Some lycan mates don’t have any kind of romantic relationship. They’re simply partners, friends. They work well as a team and they’re always respected in their pack.”

“A lycan dream team,” you supply, and he chuckles.

“Exactly.”

“And what about the others? The ones that do have a romantic relationship?”

“Those lycans live together. They become a couple, and we even have a special marriage ceremony to seal a vow between them that makes their bond stronger,” he explains. “Sometimes they’ll have kids, but sometimes not. We’re not a lot different from humans in that respect.”

You stay silent and look towards the thicker part of the forest as you process his words. Though it’s dark, your heightened senses allow you to see farther than you normally would. The smoke from the cabin in the east has dissipated into the night air, leaving only the fresh smell of snow and Bucky. Even in what could be an incredibly awkward conversation or frightening experience, you’re immensely comforted by his presence. You don’t feel the need to shy away from the tough questions or new feelings he brings up.

“Then we don’t need to force anything? We can just be friends?” you ask him, and Bucky nods. You tilt your head, smiling at him as well as you can in your wolf form. “Okay. I’d like that. If something else develops, would you be okay with that? With me?”

His eyes soften. “Of course I would, Y/N. I’m always okay with you.”

Russian Translations:

Меня зовут Джеймс Бьюкенен Барнс, и я не причиню вреда. = My name is James Buchanan Barnes and I mean no harm.

Y/N говорит, что ты ликантроп и что ты им был еще до того, как спас ее. Ты помогал ей все эти годы только для того, чтобы залезть к ней в штаны? = Y/N says that you’re a lycanthrope and that you were one even before you saved her. Have you been helping her all these years just to get in her pants?

Я родился ликантропом и был узником ГИДРЫ в то же время, что и Т/И. Они ставили эксперименты на мне, и я почти уверен, что они использовали мою ДНК, чтобы мутировать ее. Мне жаль. Из-за этого мы связаны. Она попросила меня остаться, но если ты хочешь, чтобы я ушел, я уйду. = I was born a lycanthrope and was a prisoner of HYDRA at the same time as Y/N. They experimented on me and I'm pretty sure they used my DNA to mutate hers. I'm sorry. Because of this, we are connected. She asked me to stay, but if you want me to leave, I will.

Маленький = little one

Синица = chickadee

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

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If you would like to be added to my tags, please send me a message or an ask! I tag for Everything, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, and Peter Parker.

Bucky Barnes Tags: @lipstickandvibranium @valhalla-kristin @buckymcbuckbarnes

Wild Tags: @mylifeofcalculatedchaos

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revenant-coining · 1 year

Text

Envinohuanoid

[pt: Envinohuanoid]

[ID: a rectangular flag with 11 stripes. the top and bottom 2 stripes are straight, while the rest curve out from the centre, and overlap the top and bottom 2. the middle stripe is thicker than the rest of the stripes. colors in this order from top to bottom and reflected after the last listed color: light dull orange, pale orange, lightish brown, brown, darkish brown, dark brown. in the center of the flag is a dark brown star with curved points, outlined in pale orange. End ID]

requested by @the-polysulfur-collective

Envinohuanoid: an enviren identity which is in some way connected to envy related to non-human humanoid bodies (such as lycans, vampires, monster-like, etc; animals/monsters/non-humans who still work generally as humans). this may be gender envy, species envy, or otherwise.

Etymology: envi, no(n) hu(man), (hum)anoid

@radiomogai , @imawanokiwaaa , @kiruliom

[ID: a light blue line divider outline in blue. in the center is the google bubble emoji. End ID]

#Envinohuanoid #enviren #liom #mogai #requested #🪼 creations #category: envirens

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thewritersaddictions · 2 years

Text

House Heisenberg: Karl Heisenberg- Scary Truth Part 1

Pairing: Karl Heisenberg x Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader

Warning: Pregnancy scare, scared reader, pregnancy bump, confused Heisenberg, slight anger, a little bit of blame, fluff, cuteness, father material, slight smut, 18+, teasing, semi-public sex,

Summary: Afraid of telling Karl you are pregnant, so you wait til you can't hide it anymore.

A/n- firefly-graphics for dividers

WC- 1.0k

Resident 8 Master List // House Heisenberg Master List

Fucking Karl was like being on cloud nine. Fuck it was like living on cloud nine. No matter where in the old workshop, or down in the dirty Soldat cluttered factory. Hell, he’d take you right there if he felt like. This had just become your normal with Karl. He would fuck you awake, fuck you during his lunch break which he called was just you laying on your back and him eating you out.

I was sure that Karl would eventually get bored with me, but that was anything from the truth. Rather the more we fucked the more Karl got intrigued I could tell. That look he gave me, those green eyes that could look through my soul into my heart. Rather it meant that we played games. Naughty games that had the possibility of getting the both of us in deep shit with Miranda.

Miranda wasn’t the best fan of me, but it didn’t stop Karl from dragging me behind him late as always. Miranda always kept her gaze away from me, so it gave Karl the perfect opportunity to play with a piece of metal. Sliding it underneath the hem of my dress. The cool metal would graze over the warm and sensitive skin on my legs, up to graze my inner thighs. He was cocky, but bring this man in front of people who he despised and he became something different.

Cool metal slipping past my inner thighs. Colder when it grazed over my soaked panties. I had to hide a whimper, Miranda would only stand for a few things, and be being here at this meeting was already too much for her. A rough whisper gave me shivers down my side as Karl couldn’t help but ask what the problem was. “What’s the problem buttercup?” Karl asked, he was always so damn cocky, even now.

A soft sigh left my lips before I reached for his hand. Squeezing tighter and tighter as the cold metal began to tease my clit. Through soaked panties, in front of his family it never mattered to this man and I love him for it. Kept the dull life we had going around here in the valley, alive. Karl kept me alive with every motion of his metal powers, every flick of his tongue, every thrust his hips meeting mine with a force that I swear had broken a very many things around the workshop area.

Excited would not be the word I would ever call Karl, but there was something different when he arrived back at the factory. The long walk, the biting cold and how much Karl had kept his hands all over me. He was nearly speed walking us back to the factory. Lycans had stayed far from us on our walk back home. “Love, what’s wrong? Did Miranda say something to piss you off?” I asked. The faster he walked us the more concerned I got. Whatever had gotten Karl pissed was sure going to see its death pretty soon.

The gates opened with a grand slam. Hitting the other side of the fence. The workshops doors slamming open as well. “KARL?” I yelled finally the slamming was enough to send someone into a panic, but the fact that it was all that could be heard beside his loud breathing, it was killing me.

“Buttercup. Just get inside please.” Karl said his voice was rougher than before, breaking at the end. Making a mental note that I wasn’t a fan of this loud but calm demeanor that he had going on right now. Karl nearly pushed me into the cool space of the workshop, the doors behind me slamming shut. “Karl seriously?” I was able to question him finally, but that was taken from me when I pulling into his arms. “You know how innocent you looked, sitting there in front of those dumbasses. Letting me take advantage of you however I wanted.” Karl groaned into my ear. My knees buckled, either from the weight of his words or from the damn pull that he had over my body. Our lips connected, not an ounce of softness behind it. Every bite of his teeth against my lips was a warning, a show of something greater within Karl.

He took me right there, his hands nearly ripping the only clothes I had left. The sound of tears and groans coming from everywhere. The metal all around us began to shake a little the more frantic Karl was to get within my walls. “No, tell me Karl how innocent did I look.” I said playing into the thoughts of his mind. He groans at my words, and lifts me up from the ground, placing me nicely on the bed. “You forget just how much I know your body sweetness.” He spoke. He stripped me of my shirts, and pants. Panties and bra on display for him to quack at later, for now he was talking.

“I know just the pace you like it, all that deep pressure of my cock hitting your womb. The way it drives you crazy, eyes rolling in the back of your head. I know how many times you like it when I nudge the tip of my cock over your messy little clit before I finally fuck you deep and hard.” Karl said, all of those words meant something different in the right now.

Once he was done, talking. I was stripping myself of the rest of my clothes. Panties I tried to save from the ravaging man that was above me. His cock always made me roll my eyes in the back of my head. He always made me feel like he was going to rip me at the core. He fucked me rough and hard that night. There wasn’t a single breath I was able to take. Our hips hitting every time he thrusted into me. That night Karl cam deep in me. “I know everything about my buttercup.” He said as he thrusted into my keeping up with the mounting energy, I wasn’t able to keep up with. That night he fucked me to sleep, and I was perfectly okay with it.

Completed on: 12/28/22

Posted on: 12/29/22

House Heisenberg:

#karl heisenberg x y/n #karl heisenberg #karl heisenburg x reader #karl hisenberg #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil #resident evil village heisenberg #lord heisenberg #resi 8 #female reader #female reader insert #karl heisenberg smut #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg fanfic #karl heisenberg re8

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misty-doodles · 2 years

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MyStreet rewrite

IDK what's even happening man, I was talking with a friend today and got inspo to do… this.

so here's the first bit of me fucking with lore by establishing this little bit of lore to operate in my version. i uh, took inspo from other series when writing this, and you'll notice it when i talk about were-wolfs. in other words, uh, here ya go.

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Species; there are 3 main species, that being human, witch, and were-creature.

Were-creatures can be further divided into the subspecies of were-cats, were-dogs, and the seemingly extinct were-wolf. Other animal such as deer or rabbits are rare, but possible. They're characterized by animal-like features on a humanoid body, such as ears, tails, and backward facing knees.

Were-wolves are very rare and thought to be extinct, but their blood is known to be a key-ingredient in immortality potions. Any and all were-wolves live in secret, and are indistinguishable from were'dogs in their more humanoid form.

Witches can be characterized by their unnatural eye-color and pointed ears. Witches are the only known creature to be able to perform natural magic, though all creatures can create positions.

Family weirdness;

The Ro'meave's are a very rich and well off family. They deal with illegal potion trading, despite being fully human. They have 3 children, one of whom is a witch, and are known to be obsessed with status and appearance. They're likely dealing in were-wolf blood, though the father seems to be the face of these operations.

The Lycan's are a well off family of were-dogs and two secret were-wolves. They're very secretive and recluse, and not much is known about the family outside their jobs in law. They have 2 children, one were-dog and one were-wolf.

The Díaz's (Aphmau's family) are immigrants from the Dominican Republic, the father disappeared 1 year prior to the move, and has been assumed dead. The mother has only one child, who's a rare instance of a cross-bread; Half were-wolf, half human, and appears almost entirely human.

The Valkrum's are a well off family, the mother having passed some years prior of an unnamed illness. The father appears to be an unknown 4th species, simply called warlock. There is 1 child, who appears to be a human with an affinity to magic. Whether the child is also a warlock is unknown.

#aphmau #mystreet #mystreet rewrite #aphmau ms #lycan family #ro'meave family #valkrum family #lore dump #misty's Mystreet rewrite #misty writes

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rallamajoop · 2 years

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Resident Evil Village

So, although Deus Ex: Mankind Divided was (and very much still is) supposed to be next in the gaming queue, I somehow spent Christmas playing Resident Evil 8: Village.

And having now finished this damn game on three different difficulties, developed an addiction to the Mercenaries challenge mode, discovered a host of unexpected feelings about Ethan Winters & family and that Heisenberg bastard, and read a godawful amount of fic… I’m still a little undecided how surprised I should be that it sucked me in so hard.

Because on the one hand, if anything in that crazy franchise was going to get me, clearly it was going to be the one full of vampires and gothic horror tropes (not to mention being set in that one mysterious region of Romania we all know from the Hammer films, where everyone speaks English for no particular reason). Looking back, I’ve been in and out of horror-adjacent fandoms since, oh, about when the first Venom movie came out – maybe this was the next logical step.

On the other hand, it’s an FPS: a genre I only grudgingly came around to at all a matter of months ago. And though my days of saying I don’t do FPS are now undeniably behind me, it’s also a horror game, and (all recent records aside), when it comes to horror games, I am a wimp. The kind of wimp who watched playthroughs of P.T. back in the day going holy fuck I could not manage to walk down a corridor in this shitshow the atmosphere alone would smother me alive. The kind of wimp who noped the fuck out of Portal on the very first level featuring turrets (holy shit, they’re shooting at me? Those are bullet holes in the wall! Is that MY BLOOD on the wall? Oh my god how am I not already dead oh my god) and never came back.

What made the difference this time? Well, apparently my general aversion to shooting people doesn’t so much apply to lycans and zombies, and horror games are much easier to deal with when you’ve already watched a Let’s Play of the whole thing, and know what you’ve signed up for. Or maybe I’m just old and jaded enough that I’m not as easily scared by pixels as I used to be. It certainly helped that Village leans more towards the shallow, action end of the survival horror pool. But as for That One Bit that everyone talks about when they discuss how RE8 made them shit their pants, I can only admit that the other thing I learned about myself watching those playthroughs of P.T. is that ‘screaming mutant foetus monster’ is exactly the point at which my brain gives up on terror and just goes “…well that’s just a bit gauche, isn’t it?” (Don’t talk to me about those don’t-look-away walking dolls from the DLC though. That bit got to me like no screaming foetus ever did.)

No, the really odd thing about me suddenly falling hard for this game is that, well, it didn’t get me at the time. Much as I’ve enjoyed watching apparently the whole rest of the internet being brought together in mutual horniness for the incomparable Lady Dimitrescu, the whole step-on-me-mistress-thing has never really been my jam – and though I did watch that Let’s Play of the full game way back when, nothing about it grabbed me enough to become really fannish about it at the time.

What changed? Well, we can partly blame a couple of youtube channels I’ve been casually following lately by folks who were also big Resident Evil fans. But the tipping point may have been my questionable decision to watch a playthrough of the new Shadows of Rose DLC at exactly the wrong (or perhaps right) time of the month, resulting in me bawling my eyes out and discovering feelings about the Winters family I never knew I had.

All that said, actually buying and playing the base game was one of those random whims, entered into with 0 expectations I was actually likely to finish the thing. I mean, the factory section alone looks like such a slog.

…so it turns out that (putting aside the hassle of navigating the place) the factory can be a ton of fun once you’ve figured out what you’re doing.

What can I say? This is a game truly brimming with personality, the dark-fairytale vibe utterly works, the campy OTT villains are a delight, I will gladly fight anyone trying to tell me Ethan’s a boring nothing of a protagonist – and having had the time to get past the “GDI game is this guy supposed to be a lycan or not? MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MIND!”-annoyance* that stopped me from enjoying Heisenberg properly while watching the playthrough, this time I fell for him hard (and wound up shipping him with Ethan, so fandom has got me again). The ending delivers, the horror elements are on point, and it’s just damn good fun to play.

Doing my first run on Casual difficulty was my one mistake. It’s the mode most widely recommended to the inexperienced player, but either that’s a recommendation calibrated for folks playing with a controller rather than a keyboard, or all that time playing Deus Ex (which, I remind you, is heavy on stealth takedowns and 3rd-person-cover mechanics that do not apply here at all) prepared me better than I realised, because Casual difficulty bored me. The mechanics, world and story still carried me through, but I did not die a single time that wasn’t thanks to an insta-death mistake. There’s no way to change difficulty mid-game, and you’re far enough in by the time you really get to find out how difficult combat was going to be that I didn’t feel like restarting. But having finished the game, I was hungry for a real challenge.

So this is when I noticed New Game+ was an option – as was unlocking infinite ammo for many weapons – and rationally deciding that replaying on only Standard difficulty with the added advantage of all those upgraded guns wasn’t going to cut it, I jumped difficulties right up to Hardcore mode.

This, too, may have been a mistake. The very first lycan attack had me running to the Internet for advice on how to survive it (it turns out the accepted strategy is basically to just hide in a cellar for as long as possible, then leg it into the next house and climb halfway up a ladder, where you’re very hard to hit). But with that milestone cleared, I found my groove, and had a much better time (though I certainly died a lot more this time through). Even with all the upgrades, it was pretty damn punishing in places – but punishing in the way that forces you to really engage with the mechanics (or at least learn to love the good old ‘set a mine and back away’-strategy). And I’m pleased to say that unlike DX:HR, RE has proper difficulty modes: we’re not just tweaking damage ratios, enemies also get much faster and more aggressive at higher difficulties – not to mention those damn lycan archers now apparently have the accuracy of a sniper.

Having beaten the game on Hardcore, I was pretty well done (there’s an even harder mode, Village of Shadows, but I wasn’t looking for that much punishment). But any lingering doubts about how fully I’d embraced the shooty-bang-fun-times side of Resident Evil gameplay were well and truly put to bed by the time I’d discovered the Mercenaries bonus game.

This mode sets you up with limited weapon selection up against a hoard of easy-to-kill enemies, scoring you higher the longer you can keep a combo going. Again: not the sort of thing I expected to suck me in, but anyone who’s ever watched me play a rhythm game will know that I can be a real sucker for a full-combo challenge. Mechanically, it’s almost the opposite of beating the story on Hardcore, but it forces you to learn layouts of some game areas in ways you never needed to before, and actually seeing numbers for how much damage you’re doing illuminates so many mechanics you were just guessing at.

Better yet, there’s a hoard of stuff you can unlock by playing it, including (as of the DLC!) the ability to play as Heisenberg or Lady Dimitrescu, which is a whole heap of fun in its own right. And if you’re prepared to play long enough to get 25 other achievements (I was), you can even unlock ‘special customisations’ for most of your weapons in the main game – boosting damage even further, or a bunch of other bonuses that I could not resist trying out…

…only, having already beaten the game on Hardcore, there wasn’t much appeal to doing that again, only with less challenge. So… oh fuck, I’m going to play this thing on Village of Shadows difficulty after all, aren’t I?

Honestly: no regrets. Lord knows I’d never survive this mode going on raw (shut up shut up I’M NOT GOING TO TRY), but it’s very doable on New Game+2. And it’s very much the mode for folks who’ve already beaten the game at least twice, because just when you were getting familiar with the story’s pre-scripted roster, this mode mixes it up and throws in new enemies where you don't expect them (and just rarely enough that they’ll always be a surprise). Having trouble with those lycan archers on Hardcore? Well, now there’s more of them, in places you didn’t expect! Had enough trouble escaping Lady D. after she slices off your hand? Ha, now we’ve spawned an extra enemy in the same space, and did we mention that you have no weapons you can use one-handed? (Seriously, good times! And that’s ‘times’, plural, because surviving that one took me a few tries.)

All that said, I’m not sure those ‘special customisations’ were really calibrated for even this difficulty – and they’re vague enough that you’ll find that out the hard way. The magnum’s ‘Extra damage against lycans’-bonus, for example, apparently means ‘can now one-shot even the alfa varcolac miniboss’ (pictured below). And sure, that’s the magnum: but the sniper rifle’s ‘extra damage at range’ can do the same thing. It’s just maybe a bit much.

Honestly, I’d be all for it if the point was to give players who really want that Village of Shadows achievement another way to get it – but then you get to the gauntlet that is the endgame, and all that fancy souped up inventory gets taken away from you for plot reasons.

Actually, I’d put the start of the endgame-gauntlet back at Sturm (last boss of the factory level before Heisenberg), because even though you’ve got your regular guns there, he’s invincible from the front, charges like a mad bull and can apparently target you through solid walls. Then you fight Heisenberg, in the obligatory here-have-a-tank sequence, and neither New Game+ upgrades or special customisations have any effect on your tank. And then you get the section where you have to play as Chris, whose lousy pistol-and-machine-gun arsenal is also unaffected by special customisations (though I can see no good reason why not). And Chris’ section really is a gauntlet, with an uncooperative auto-save, an infinite stream of charging lycans, and another boss fight against some bastard who doesn’t take damage from the front, swinging a giant mace in a tiny arena. All of a sudden, you’re playing the exact same version of this game as someone who never hit New Game + at all.

I died a lot in this section. Seriously, so many times. But I stuck it out, and I gotta say, damn but these higher difficulty modes force you to learn how to play. In case anyone else reading this actually wants some tips: stuck at the Stronghold? The trick is to book it back to the entry passage the moment the first wave starts, maybe drop a mine or two, and use the narrow space for crowd control (same thing works during the second wave – it gets a little less intense from there). Stuck in the factory? Learn to love flash grenades! Sturm? Again: flash grenades! (You would not think a guy with a propeller for a face would be so susceptible, but who am I to argue with results?) Heisenberg? Turns out aiming for those glowing weak points really does make a difference, and your tank can make a MUCH faster dash out of the way of his charge move if you stop firing the machine gun. Chris? God, don’t even get me started on Chris.** (“Oh my god, Chris, your lousy pea-shooter guns have all the stopping power of wet tissue! Get a real gun, you LOSER!”)

After all that, the letdown at the end is that Miranda (the final boss) is kind of a piece of piss. You finally get all your old inventory back, and she takes damage from the front and everything. After dying a stupid number of times reaching every milestone above, Miranda went down in one go. I’d be more unimpressed by this, but after all Ethan’s been through at that point, maybe he kind of deserves it.

Obviously, I had to play Rose’s DLC bonus campaign too, but – much as I loved it for story and atmosphere – it was admittedly less fun to play. That’s probably deliberate: it’s much more down the survival horror end of the action-horror spectrum – aiming is slow and cumbersome, and your options and resources are very limited. Given that you’re playing as a teenage girl rather than a grown man on his second rodeo, that makes a lot of sense… but there’s still not a lot there to have me eager to come back for a replay. (Her final boss battle is a lot more satisfying, though it does suffer from the fact you’re thrown so many new mechanics that just figuring out how you’re supposed to use them is pretty distracting.)

I could go on at this point – as always in new fandom mode, I have so many thoughts on the world, the fandom, the challenge of piecing together the backstory timeline, the possibilities for where this series might go in future, and how poor Mia deserves so much more love than she gets – but that can all wait. The long and short remains: I never would’ve imagined how hard I could get sucked into this game, but I have had such a time learning how wrong I was.

* Look, if a guy who shows up with the lycans, and can apparently command other lycans, is not supposed to be a lycan himself, then maybe think twice before including another giant lycan character who a) wears his coat, b) USES HIS HAMMER and c) never appears on screen at the same time as him. You’ll save so much confusion on the part of your audience, I promise!

** Really? Well, fine.

The game autosaves shortly after you beat the first two varcolacs (I found it helped to go left around the fungus into the field, and use some grenades), and again once you reach the clearing (protip: if you can make it there, everything behind you despawns! There are a couple of real waves of attackers to get through to get there though, plus a slow-but-constantly spawning stream of lycan runners to mask that), then one final time before you jump down the hole. Knowing those auto-save points is useful, because 1) reloading your last manual save point will put you all the way back before the Heisenberg boss fight, which is officially Too Far, and 2) if you pass an autosave accidentally after using up all your supplies and on low health, the next bit is going to be that much harder. To survive the clearing, forget killing everything: spend the first wave hiding behind the house on the right with the supplies (it confuses them), and the second hiding behind the other house with supplies on your left, then climb the ladder to the roof and stand up to target the mould. Don’t climb the roof earlier: the archers will get you. To survive the boss, try to run under his swings when he leaps at you, hit him with a flash grenade every time your pals with the goddamn space laser are ready, target him, then shoot the hell out of the weak point on his back. [deep breath] DONE! (And goddamnit, Chris, if I have to listen to you say ‘I’ve reach the target clearing. Damn this looks big’ one more time, I will shoot you myself.)

#Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil #more overlong gaming anecdotes

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