#m: werewolves

[werecreature-addicted]

so like all werewolves should be fat right? if they're transforming into bigger wolves that mass has to come from somewhere right? and like transforming has got to burn a lot of calories so like. they're all fat.

[gleafer]

It’s SPOOKY SEASON! Which is the best season ever for a goblin like me!

Here’s my first (of 4) HallowOmens comic for October:

THE CHOWLING

The other three will exclusive on my Patreon/Gleafer!

[trashasaurusrex]

On full moons, we wear pink

(happy oct 3rd!)

[ginnungagay]

hehe funy doggies

[porschii09]

Internet life for people with physical alterhumanity be like:

The conservatives: Look at these delusional woke people identifying as a animals!

Transmeds and some queer folks: We are NOT those delusional people who identify as non-human.

some furries: We are NOT those delusional people who identify as non-human.

Some therian/Otherkin be like: We are NOT those delusional people who identify physically as non-human.

Clinical lycanthrope/Transspecies/Physical Nonhuman people: AM I Invalid to you? *sobbed and cried*

[theoxenfree]

TINCTURE OF ACONITE

werewolf x "magic" practitioner!reader | 2.4k

a man is told about a dilapidated inn on the outskirts of the village that houses a practitioner of unsavory sorts. he seeks you out to find a cure for his affliction—lycanthropy. with blood on his hands, at the mercy of a fate of cruel uncertainties, he has no choice but to take on the task you give to him and the catch that comes with it: he must decide if he deserves to live or die.

warnings; dark fantasy, mentions of blood and mutilation, a very dark interpretation of lycanthropy, very evasive interpretation of what a "practitioner" is, mc smokes, theological discussion, derogatory insult (e.g. bitch), roughly proofread.

this is the first of my prompts fulfilled for my personal october writing project! this was also the prompt that won the first poll!

i would appreciate it enormously if y'all would please reblog + leave me feedback on this! particularly if you'd be interested in seeing this as a full story down the line!

From the hawk-nosed widow selling stale bread and wrinkled, gray potatoes with mysterious growths, he'd learned about a dilapidated inn fringing the northwest end of the village. There, she had said warily, with keen and wise eyes showing wide whites and tiny bloodshot threads, he would find the answers to everything he had never asked for.

He would find the Practitioner.

It took him less time than he thought to find his way across the village, away from the cursory and reluctant and distrustful looks as he lumbered through in his heavy boots and loose-fitting black tatters he'd sewn together himself time and time again. His face was haggard, skin wet and ashen, and he couldn't remember the last time he held a blade to shave his face, tame his long, dark hair.

To the townspeople, he must've looked like a wildman; uncivilized; belonging to the deep wood and meadows and smelling thickly of untouched nature, mud, and musk. Perhaps, now, he was just that because he also could no longer remember a time where he'd been welcome to sleep in a bed, ate a meal cooked and seasoned to be used with cutlery, allowed himself to be gripped by scalding water and bath salts, reveled the touch of another person.

Upon reaching the inn sometime later, a tiered, hulking structure which seemed to rot from the inside out; the middle of the massive thing bowing inward as though slowly being sucked underground—into hell, he was greeted at the entrance without ever having needed to knock.

“Second floor,” was all the older fellow said. A man with unhealthy grayness to his complexion that rivaled his own. All of the vigor, pink liveliness was long gone from his face and his eyes reflected nothing—not a want, a wish, a worry, or thought beyond remembering to move one foot after the next to keep locomotion.

He moved beyond the gaunt, wispy fellow who quietly closed the door, then shuffled off through another threshold leading elsewhere. He'd been instructed to go to the left, to the end of hall and through the door which faced him.

When he did this, the somnolent dreariness of the world outside fell away and he was sucked into silence filled with static. The room was sentient, almost, swirling with immense wafts of burning herbs, fragrant flora, dark tendrils of smoke emerging from wilted candle wicks and the cherry flickers at the tips of them.

“Well, aren't you a sad sight!” Your voice was deceptively upbeat in comparison to this room, this place. He noticed you seated in a high-backed chair padded in ripped red velvet, a large table stretched out before you and sprawled with many, endless things. “It isn't easy to find this place. Who told you about me?”

“The potato seller at the village.” He said.

You pressed a flat, metal tip between your lips and sucked in on some weird instrument, blowing out a profuse cloud of faint, purple smoke which smelled otherworldly and familiar.

“You mean the widow with the crazy eyes?”

“I…suppose so, yes.”

“She's crazy, you know?”

“She told me you'd be able to cure me.”

You smiled like he'd just told you an amusing joke, wooed you a bit in the process. He watched your teeth come out from behind your lips and clench down on the metal tip.

“Cure you? She wouldn't have used those words. She despises me and likes to think people she sends my way meet their death. What a vindictive old bitch. She’ll get hers one day.” You said, then gestured to the empty chair opposite the table to you. “I’m flattered you think so highly of me, though. We’ve only just met. But, I know a desperate man when I see one. I know a cursed man when I see one.”

The chair was uncomfortable, not at all wide enough, strong enough to bear his form but it did not collapse under his weight, only creaked and whimpered. You were observing him as casually as he would have had a friend a long time ago, with such little regard for safety, little fear of this brawny and moody stranger sitting across from you at a table with countless, shatterable objects.

It occurred to him after an awkward moment of silence (on his end, you were perfectly at ease), you were waiting for him to diffuse his anguish, his worries, his curse—why he was really here in this room with you now. Only, he wasn't sure where to start, nor what information he could give that you'd consider pertinent apart from the rest.

He'd forgotten how to speak to people during his long, lonely solitude as well, it seemed.

“The woman—the widow—she told me you're a practitioner in the Devil’s Magic. Is that true?” he mumbled, for one second considering taking one of the hundreds of baubles on the table to turn over in his hands. “I do not much believe in any of that. The workings of any god or evil, it isn't related to my affliction. But, I want to know if you're actually capable of curing me, or a charlatan scamming the poor to be even poorer.”

You exhaled more of the luxurious smoke from your strange pipe before finally setting it aside to take up a round flask made of clear glass. Despite it appearing empty, something unseeable sloshed within—water, perhaps—and it smelled foul when you uncorked it.

“Devil’s Magic,” you seemed to consider his wordage with a derisive smile, but he had a feeling this wasn't about him. “That old wretch is something else. Handsome Sir, I am a lot of things and no one important. I am no witch, wizard, magician, druid, and I am certainly no charlatan. I might be able to help you with your case of lycanthropy.”

Hope reignited in his eyes, still but a dull flicker waiting to be snuffed as it had many times before, yet he always dared to feel this way whenever a possibility arose.

“I—never mentioned my affliction,” surprised as he was, he now knew he'd made the right choice spending his afternoon finding the inn rather than continuing onward for the next town. “How can you be so certain that's what I suffer—”

“A man of your destitute and good manners aren't the types who get stricken with vampirism or cursed by hags. You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, I'll bet. A good man, loyal to a fault to an… owner? An employer? A lover, perhaps?”

You were staring over his face searchingly at the end, carefully winding your wrist with the nauseating, invisible concoction in your hand. For a moment, there was nothing but silence as he considered the meaning behind your exact curiosity, trying to pry an answer from you with a stern look he'd used to terrify and award himself some small, scarce comforts.

When you didn't falter, he slouched deeper into his seat, clearly defeated by your eccentricity and dumb fearlessness.

“Thousands of miles away, I once served a Duke and a Duchess as their guard. One night, I was sent out as the baleful cries of some beast had sent My Lady into a frenzy, my My Lord into a fit of rage. Those lands were cursed, everyone was well aware, but I've never thought above my status and so I went.

“The night was all around me. Something lurked in the trees, perhaps lost souls, perhaps something else. The mist moved as though alive, a limb, an arm, an extension of the forest itself and I could scarcely see. But then, I saw it: an enormous, bent creature in a man’s torn clothes. It had the vicious face of a wolf, yet it could walk upright like a man and when I gave chase, it could sprint unlike anything I'd ever seen.”

You were leaning to one side of your throne now, an arm bent on top of the armrest while you swiveled the bottle, still watching him as though he were simply divulging some asinine discontent.

“I—” he paused, breathing arrested behind the rise of ugliness in his throat, something that tasted as vile as it was to remember.

Until then, he had been speaking to you quietly and sullen, like a man resolved to his fate. But now, he listened to his own voice fracture, quiver, and croak. Beyond that, his face and ears burned, aching from embarrassment, every emotion he had belittled himself into hiding away.

“I—was restrained by the damned thing and it took a chunk out of my side. I thought it would rip me apart; part of me wishes it had. Everything after that for a while is a blur to me even now, and I never remember the instances when I… change… only that the night calls to me, the moon a siren’s song.”

“Have you killed anyone as a beast?” you asked.

The mention made his gaze shift down to his hands which still groped the bauble, finding it a safe thing to concentrate on in that moment. Fortunately, the impossible heat in his head was quickly receding and he could once again fully regain clarity.

“I would have to believe so, yes,” he chose to say, honestly. “When I become the monster, I never have a recollection of the things that happen. But, I've awoken enough times covered in blood, surrounded by mutilation to ever claim otherwise.”

Now, you had the pipe back in your mouth and were inhaling the dreamy fumes. Letting the purple haze out of your nostrils. You were no longer looking at him, instead skittering the vastness of things across your tabletop, obviously in search of something.

“I want to be forthright with you, though you've only kept an air of mystery around yourself the entire time,” he started, replacing the object back on your table with the rest. “Either, I want your help for a cure, or I want you to develop a poison that will kill both myself and the beast inside of me.”

Your eyebrows ticked up, conveying the most emotion he'd seen out of you yet. “Those are both extremes. I cannot promise you anything because I am not a practitioner of magic or miracles. I am simply: the Practitioner. You will be the one to decide your own fate, for I cannot decide it for you.”

“I don't understand.” He looked at you helplessly, weathered and weighted.

From among the mass of stuff before you both, you pulled out a small notebook bound in leather, secured with a strap. You resumed puffing away on your pipe once he took it from you, studying it with some measure of apprehension and revulsion.

“This notebook contains many different specimens I've studied over, oh, some years. One of those specimens is a plant called aconite. You must find me a bushel, along with a handful of other things, and bring them back to me for me to create the tincture you need to either be cured or poisoned.”

He examined the notebook front to back several times, as though all of his answers would suddenly materialize across the covers. Of course, no such thing happened. “You have this table of the strangest things I've ever seen, and yet you don't have the things needed to create the tincture. I’m finding you to be a liar.”

You gave a great huff of exasperation, blowing purple smoke towards him in retaliation. “And I'm finding you to be among the dullest of men I've ever met. These things that I have do not serve a purpose to individuals. You must be the one to create the tincture for yourself. It is the intention behind it; your thoughts, feelings, beliefs, and desires. You have to decide what you truly think you deserve—what you truly want.”

“That is witchcraft,” he said, incredulous. “It's magic!”

Again, you gripped the metal with your teeth and smiled around it. “Is it magic, or is it the power of your own thinking? Is your lycanthropy the result of a beast or your own illness? Will you live or die? I can't answer those things for you.”

“Then, I must go.” He found a pocket inside his coat that hadn't worn or torn with all his previous transformations and tucked it there. When he rose from the crackling chair, wood springing back to life once he was out of it, you surprisingly stood with him. “I'll find the answers I need. I'll return to you with these things.”

You were less awful seeming up close, a normal person dwarfed by his size. It was an odd feeling to be in such close proximity to someone else, one who didn't shrink and cower beneath the severity of his face—the dark brows and dark hair and unshaven jaw. But, you stood there with him next to the door to let him out, unafraid and fixed in your confidence that he would bring you no harm.

It moved him.

It moved him so deeply that he reached for your warmth, or your illusion, and kissed you deeply. He relished the touch of your lips, the press of your body against his, and the taste of your fragrant smoke which was effervescent and sparkling in his mind.

He could have taken you to bed right then, lain naked with you, damp with sticking skin while tangled together in an embrace, luxuriating in the afterglow.

But, he could not answer those desires while with his affliction as you would die, and he couldn't burden that sort of grief after knowing the touch of another. He even wondered, with some shame, whether he deserved to know someone of your caliber, your mysticism and wisdom, after slaughtering men and women whom he'd never know the names of. Those whose families would never know closure.

He kissed you once more, letting it linger and swell with his feelings before he let you go and went for the door.

“I'll return to you.”

You still had your pipe and smoked it, smiling evenly and contentedly.

“I wonder what you'll choose in the end.”

[hyprcore]

[beastmode-daily]

she is beauty she is grace. she's within her rights to eat your face

[newblvotg]

[musclejedi-tameem]

Bryan was not having a good day at all. Every little thing seemed to be setting him off and making him angry. His body also hurt all over and he couldn’t figure out why. His skin just felt tight. When he got home from work, late which was a bother thing that made him angry, he sank down into the couch to try and rest before he changed clothes and had dinner. On his phone he noticed a text from the man he had hooked up with last week, which was odd since they hadn’t spoken since. But Bryan thought maybe he was interested in meeting up again, the guy was a total daddy and was huge and muscular and hairy and Bryan had enjoyed their night together. But the text just said “Enjoy your night pup.” While tying to figure out what that meant or if he had gotten the wrong text or something Bryan looked outside and saw that the moon was already rising and that it was full. At that moment he was seized with stabbing pains all over his body and he fell to the floor as he groaned. When he opened his eyes he noticed that his hands were pulsing and growing longer and that his nails were growing out into thick claws. He moaned more as he felt his body being pumped up as his muscles grew in thick and started tearing his clothes off. Through the pain he felt itchy as thick brown fur began to come his muscles and he realized in a daze that he was becoming a werewolf! He thought it was a dream but the pain was too intense and real. He groan more as a sharp pain in his ass heralded the growth of his bushy tail. His feet formed into large clawed paws and his legs painfully bent backwards into canine like hocks. It was then that he entered the final bits of his transformation and his ears grew and became pointed and shifted to the top of his head. His face pushed out into a long lupine muzzle and his teeth grew sharp and pointed. His eyes became sharp and predatory and glowed a bright blue as he felt his new lungs heave as he gave his first howl. “Arrroooo!!!!!” Bryan was gone now, for the rest of the night he was now this beast and he was not in control. Thankfully Bryan lived on the edge of town so the new werewolf busted out the open window and off into the night. Waiting for him outside was a massive black werewolf, the man that Bryan had hooked up with a week before, he treated his new pack brother and together they went off to hunt for the rest of the night. Now they would always be together bound by the moon cycle.

[keldabekush]

These are up on my etsy! Shipping should be free for US and UK if I've set the deal up right on my store - i feel strongly about werewolf tits <3

Link in my pinned post <3

[mantafurr]

Cursed by the moon

Im gonna try to do taran fiddler's weretober but I don't have that much time, so im gonna be late

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Rabbitt's TWD Halloween '24

Witches and Woos

🐺 Daryl Dixon x reader 🌿

What happens when a witch and a werewolf decide they need the same clearing in the forest where the moon shines brightest.

The community you joined two days ago was a nice one. Or at least it seemed to be, as long as you didn't ask about leaving the gates during the night.

No matter who you asked if it was okay to go out that night the answer was no. And on top of that no one could give you a straightforward reason as to why they weren't letting you go out.

But that didn't stop you from sneaking out over the wall like you saw that kid do the day before.

Once your feet hit the ground you set out to the clearing you passed once before, it was the perfect place to work your magic.

You wanted to return the kindness of allowing you into the community with a blessing of crops, but you needed privacy and moonlight for it so your only option was to go outside the walls on the night of the full moon for the best results.

Your items in your bag made noise as you walked, already a hand against the outside to dampen it and a knife in your hand in case a stray walker came across your path.

You made it to the clearing without any unpleasantries and laid out all of the spell's components. Things were looking like it was going to be a quick and easy job, until a growl startled you.

"Leave." A deep snarling voice sounded as a large beast stepped into the moonlight.

"Shut it, I need to focus." You had spared it only a fraction of a glance before you went back to mixing herbs and taking a knife to your palm.

"These woods are protected. Leave." The beast stepped closer, heavy footfalls on the dirt ground. "I will tear you open."

You looked up at him, barely lifting your head. "You kill me and you'll curse your precious community's crops for the next couple of generations so you better sit your ass down, mutt."

A huff left him as he moved even closer, inspecting your works. "You cast blessings?" He tilted his head, hovering over your carefully arranged items.

"Yes I do, now get out of my goddamn light." With your now bloodied hand you shoved his snout out of reach, leaving a handprint on his nose.

"You are on my lands." He scoffed as he laid down, eyeing your work with great focus.

"Yeah yeah, boo hoo. Doggy wants his field back so he can run around in ghe moonlight. I'll be gone before you know it." You rolled your eyes at him and continued doing your thing, mixing all the spell's ingredients and speaking the needed words in a hushed tone. In the corner of your eye you noticed your canine companion walking off and lay down off to the edge of the clearing.

You moved on with the last bits of your spell and started cleanup when you heard a low grumble from the other end of the clearing where your lycantrophic companion had laid down. Taking him in for a moment you noticed his sleep was restless, panicked energy oozing off him.

With a sigh you sat back down and rummaged through your bag and took out various items, putting together a quick sleeping remedy from herbs. A lavender base with a few other ingredients made a mixture that should help him sleep more calm, so you put it in a small pouch and carefully nestled it between his forearm and cheek.

The next days were quiet ones for you. You had no job yet so all you did was get to know the layout of your new home and get aquainted with the residents.

Here and there you picked up talk of the full moon, and the creature you met but you kept to yourself in fear of letting it slip that you snuck out.

You also spotted someone new walking around a couple days later. He looked scruffy, tired and oddly familiar.

Just familiar until he came up to you and held out a pouch to you. "Guess I owe ya thanks."

You looked the man up and down, now easily recognising his features that matched your werewolf visitor.

"Keep it." You kindly declined the return of your product. "As long as you keep the strings tied it'll stay effective."

"Hmhm, thanks" with a nod a silence fell between the two of you, both unsure how to continue the conversation.

"Well, I guess I'll be heading home." You gave your basket of rations a pat and bid him farewell.

"Yeah, me too." Again he nodded and turned to walk off. In the same direction as you, so you fell into step with him jn silence again.

It wasn't that you hadn't met werewolves before, but this one was different. He wasn't begging you for cures or herbs, hell he even tried to return the pouch you offered him.

"So eh," you needed to break this awkward silence. "How long have you been like that?" You gestured at the pouch he had pocketed and got a long sigh in response as he blew out the smoke from deep in his lungs.

"Forty years, give or take. Was a teen." He gave you a look then. "N'you? When did ya learn?"

You thought back to way before, and your mother. Oh how you missed her. "I was always told to keep nature and its creatures as friends. So my mom taught me from the second I could properly read." You laughed yo yourself. "Man, she would be smiling ear to ear if she learned I made a friend like you."

"Next time ya wanna go outside the walls, jus' ask me." With a short wave he turned up the path that led to his home where a bike sat in an open garage. "Name's Daryl, by the way."

With a wave of your own you gave him your name as well as you confinued on to your place down the street.

Tonight you'd have to light a candle and thank the moon for this meeting.

[amf-studios]

Day 5: werewolf

Just my oc, Blairwolf, howling at the moon. Typical werewolf stuff :3

Hope you enjoy!

[sillygoblinantics]

Watched ant’s werewolf video.

(And the transcript)

I applaud the history and mythology section but there’s never mention of the other werewolves!

And to that

I have to grab the sources, More specifically this!

Welcome to my silly hyperfixation sperg!

I love me some mythology and history of these fantastical creatures. I do enjoy the movie approach and filmography of the werewolf history. (Even though you skipped shapeshifters from ❤️💀🤖) but I wanted to add to the cryptozoological side of it even if I’m a bit amateurish of the study.

Let’s dive in

Though early origins to the term of lycanthropy dating back to Ancient Rome and Ancient Greece via Latin language, humans that transform into dog like hybrids is a universal concept that can be found all over the world from Europe to South Asia!

As was our human way to explain what wasn’t yet known scientifically of modern times, for the civilizations who came before us, strangeness in people from neurological to physical abnormalities were thought to be otherworldly!

A rare mutation but oldest documented instance is when the hair on the body grow longer than what is “normal” leading to top to bottom fully covered in hair people: Hypertrichosis. Which is where the image of transformation came from or at least hypothesized to have been the origins of. Then there’s the actual clinically diagnosis of “clinical lycanthropy” which is when someone who has this believes they are in fact a werewolf.

So with the fun science out of the way! Allow me to list off every lycanthrope from around the world!

In alphabetical order of each name:

Airitech

Folklore of the Goidelic Celts.

Alp

Originating in Germany

Anjing Ajak

Indonesia

Azeman

Suriname folklore

Bal-bal

Philippines

Beast of Gevaudin

(Werehyena) France

Budas

Ancient Abyssinia

Buxenwolf

German folklore

Enkidu

Gilgamesh’s “best friend”

Headless mule

Iberian folklore - Portugal and Spain

Karkanxhol

Kolivilor

Albanian mythology

Kornwolf

Estonia, France, Germany, Hungary, Latvia, Poland and Russia

Lobis-Homem

Ancient Portuguese folklore

Lobishomen

(Female vampire witch werewolf) Brazil

Lobison

Argentina

Loup Garou

French origin and Caribbean island folklore

Luison

Paraguayan folklore

Lupo Mannaro

Italian and ancient Roman folklore

Marrock (Marrok the good knight)

Arthurian folklore

Zmag Ognjeni Vuk

Bosnian folklore (fire breathing werewolf)

I need a minute to catch my breath!

Ok!

As you can tell there’s quite a lot but I feel the need to also mention a morally good lycanthrope

Hailing from the Shetland isles of Scotland: the Wulver

They’d watch over flocks and tend to chores and leave behind fish on the windowsills of homes once they’re done helping. It’s said they’d only act in violence if provoked but other than that they were mostly seen as good!

So that’s my lil sperging about werewolf mythology! Good video Anthony!

I’m shook that no one mentioned the werewolves from the Halloween anthology film “Trick or Treat” or “the wolf among us” which was about the big bad wolf being a detective in a modern setting with fairytales and murder! Or the other red riding hood movie! “Red Riding Hood” (2011); with really good color story of mostly black and white scenery and striking red from our leading lady!

Ohmygod I nearly forgot that Pokémon even has a werewolf pokemon!

But ye I don’t have any better way to end this… other than a silly animation >:3c

[sharpibees]

close-ups of my two FINAL Little Wolves Illustrations!!

Its been a pleasure working on this project and really excited to see @dinoberrypress and the other artists carry it to fruition 🐺👀✨

Check it out and grab that pre-order over here!!