#or wolf nature idk

[wolfsteax]

clay

[hannibal-is-my-comfort-show]

Thinking abt how Will and Hannibal are like that old myth where you can cure a werewolf by calling it by its Christian name, making it remember that their true self is human. Except, with them, Hannibal saw Will for who he truly was, allowing him to become the monster he was on the inside.

[anghraine]

i just saw someone say that faramir is infuriating because he's self-aggrandizing in claiming that he won't act in any way that doesn't befit his status, and on one hand - i understand the root of it? he does have a courteous, almost formal style of talking. he does openly claim that he would not take this mysterious power (before he knew about the ring) if it was on the highway. he agrees to denethor's characterization that he wants to appear noble like a king of old.

but on the other hand i'm straining at the bit to defend my baby because - infuriating?? when he lives up to the words he is saying?? when the text shows over and over that he's loved by his people, that he genuinely tries to live by those standards (and seems to succeed) - him not killing even animals unnecessarily, him riding back for his men. even his proclaimed dream to see gondor's tree bloom and peace restored, is supported by him seemingly making that transition from steward to king as smooth as possible?

maybe it's because i instantly liked him so much. it just caught me so off guard because this particular criticism never ever crossed my mind. so funny how people will interpret the same thing differently. to some internet user out there, his words are self-aggrandizing. to me, his words are straightfoward and supported by actions - dreamboat central.

Hi, anon! I'm pretty much with you on this one. I've seen the occasional post like that, and I can understand finding his style grating (though I personally love it) or disliking the general baggage associated with Tolkien's handling of Númenóreanness (there's a considerable degree of classism and racism built in to the presentation of Elves and peredhil/Númenóreans in LOTR in particular, while later texts like "The Mariner's Wife" are relatively more nuanced).

But the idea that Faramir is essentially just performing the appearance of high virtue as a sort of imitation of Númenórean cultural values without actually possessing those values or the virtues of the best of them just seems a profound misinterpretation to me. He has flaws, but he's not a hypocrite and he does not fail to live up to his presentation of himself at any point.

He's exactly what he appears to be, a stern and intelligent young man out of step with the current trends of his culture, who still cares deeply about his people and their allies. He's potentially highly dangerous in the way of Denethor and Aragorn, and like them, his personality is hard and unbending when it comes down to it, but he's also gentler than either—the combination of his willingness to act on the threat he represents if necessary and ethically justifiable, with a deep compassion and sympathy for others (even animals), is distinct and really interesting.

I think there's a very important distinction between Faramir performing virtue and gentleness and putting on the persona of a great Númenórean lord in times of peace, and Faramir presenting himself as he truly is and then suiting actions to words, despite the fundamental antipathy between his temperamental inclinations and the circumstances he's been placed in.

[yoohyeon]

𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕣 ℍ𝕪𝕖𝕛𝕦 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 ! 🩶

Mine - Do not repost!

[freaky-flawless]

If you reblog, put in the notes what color you would call it.

[pzyii]

what if I could predict death and you were my best friend and destined to die while trying to safe my life inspired by this fic

[spinnysocks]

vita shows me a stick :]

[electoons]

giving my ldb a daughter. embarrassing for all involved. mostly me

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Shadow Day 6

Shadow Beast

The Twilight Princess fan in me really came out on this one huh? I blame the sleep deprivation. We never quite addressed the effects of the Twili Magic on Twilight and how it's only sheer force of will and the fact he's so darn kind, Midna's influence and Time teaching him the Song of Healing first being the main factor in making sure he doesn't fall huh? Even more so than the One Cutscene. We also need to talk more about the fact we technically kill Midna's people and how by the end of it all Twi is so changed by the Twilight Realm who's it's own can of worms that, much like Time he can't quite go home as himself me thinks, as a treat to myself

Mostly Twilight x Reader, this goes out to all of the folks who never quite recovered from Twilight Princess and the fact we never got that sequel (I mean it gave us BOTW and TOTK and Wild, but at what cost?), but can be read as Link x Reader either on the platonic or romantic.

Don't think there's any warning this time but might edit later if needed.

Actually yeah there is one warning

TW:

References to body horror typical to Twilight Princess, though I recommend not reading it I'd you're squeamish period.

Even after so long, you and Twilight could still remember the beauty and solemnity of the Twilight Realm, with it’s zircon skies with clouds of trapped fire and rains of viper obsidian.

The silence of the infection upon the realm of light broken only by the echoes of the howling elegy of the Twili and Interlopers who came before creeping over the land like rot and wither over flowers, the lament of the lost spirits of the people and animals of Hyrule falling over your spirit like a shroud, a shared hymm from two worlds reality had been twisted, only both of it’s princess, one filled the luster of empyreal sorrow in her mind and one with the scorch abyssal fury in her heart knowing to see the reflective tragedy befallen to their people. With Link as the one who restored the memory of what once was in both worlds as divinity and calamity sang in his bones and you a witness to the restoration of harmony to the discordant symphony, the two different songs of light and shadow refusing to let go of either of you in an eternal duet.

(Once touched by magic, it shall never leave the one if holds onto Twilight may have been the one with the Beast in his soul, with the howl of a wolf, the bite of shades in his veins and the lament of innocents taking precedence over anything purely because he learned how to silence the whispers of the one’s who made a grab for heaven’s throat and we’re pushed in the cracks of reality for their prideful vánitas even as he could taste it in the back of his tongue, twining around his ribs and overgrowing into his shattered mirror heart like vines, flowering with the divinity and eternal nature of the Hero’s Spirit, already having the hunt of the Fierce Deity in it’s veins and the remains of cursed divinity welcoming the new aspect merrily so he could bear it. The song of the innocent wrongly punished among the sinners rang into your mind, scratched at your skin and dug it’s claws around your throat, chocking you with sorrow and regret, more willing to leave gouges than to let go of someone’s who’s looked into the reverse side of the sacred realm and wept with grief for it’s people and the curse of it’s beauty.

It would never leave you, Link or Zelda, who learned who love the darkness the way Midna did, madness and unsightly delight and all.)

While the people of Hyrule merely became trapped as observers at best, if they were lucky, Midna’s raging grief and resentment quickly became obvious, once she revealed that rotten Zant had done to her and her people, twisted into a new form, distorted in body and trapped in mind like the animals and beasts of Hyrule, their pain driving them in becoming feral attack hounds for the usurper, their howling screams as much sorrow, wailing in an attempt to let their agonized, tortured souls to escape from it’s mouth, a futile attempt to flee from the strain of reality forgetting their true form in favor of Zant’s twisted design, of being used as sentient canvases for cruelty and ruthlessness, of their will being stepped over in favor of corrupting recreation.

Of how it only didn’t quaff down at Midna’s mind because of the nature of her ephemerality, fully beloved by the Realm of Darkness, of how she loathed him for it and wouldn’t wish her fate of that of her people’s on any living or dead soul, once she came to love the Realm of Light through Zelda’s sacrifice.

Which was why, when you saw three of the victims of the telltale twisting from darkness utilized with the intent to drive one insane, a familiar looking plate of stone engraved on the remains of ashes from their identity, the curling of distorted, solid darkness making crooked mishapen manes, bent out of shape from their too long torso and long, long arms adorned with twitching, deformed claws, you feel very justified in way your blood froze, holding onto Wild’s arms and yanking with all you had so his shot will miss, his yelp of surprise swallowed by the bone cracking, blood curdling screech from one of the beasts as a Skyward Strike grazed it’s petrified flesh.

You feel something warm drip down your ears, taste the promise of violence and the cry of lost souls on the back of your tongue and swallow it down as the memory of the Twilight Realm attempted to bite and crack your ribcage to quaff down your heart, to devour it bones and all, calling out in desperation, “Don’t! That’s a person!”

Sky freezes, as still as a statue, Legend curses the heavens crimson in a way you are so glad Wind isn’t around to hear as he retreats Twilight snarls, the wolf in him revolted and disgusted, you wonder if the Twilight is singing in his mind too as he restrains himself from reaching for the crystal as nails just a tad too sharp invite droplets of blood to one hand, grimm as a graveyard “We need to get them together anyway, felling just one won’t be enough.”

You grimace, releasing Wild, keeping your eye on the Shadow Beasts and another on your group, pointedly not mentioning the twitch in Four, amethyst clouding his gaze and the prism of his eyes turning gray with memories you and Twilight both knew all too well, of the grimace in Time’s otherwise stony countenance, you’d wished to avoid bloodshed of whoever was turned against their will, but you and Twilight both knew that might not be possible, death, unfortunately, might be the greatest mercy you can grant these poor souls.

(The Twilight is harmonizing in your ears, jeering, you feel the Interlopers insanity and the Twili’s lament on your teeth. As lovely as it could be cruel, the merry feeling upon meeting, the sorrow at a parting.

If you ever see the Shadow, you might just try indulging the echo by offering it’s blood as tribute. You'd make it hurt. The fact it learned the spell used to deform reality in such a way was cruel and vile.)

“Legend, how is your magic?” shoots Warriors, analyzing, calculating, it snaps the purple back into Four’s gaze, brings his mind back to focus as he reaches into his inventory for his Moon Pearl, Twilight is circling the beasts with single minded purpose, herding them together and prowling as he would as a wolf, Wild thankfully listened to your warning and had switched from the more destructive Flame and Lightning Arrows to ice ones. It doesn’t contain them for long but it gives a few precious seconds to strategize.

Legend catches on, switching to the Ice Rod on one hand and grasping his own Moon Pearl with the other, Sky has another Skyward Strike ready, but doesn’t release it, you switch from your sword to accepting a Magic Rod tossed at you from Wild, “Good enough.”

You breath in shakily, the symphony of the Twilight Realm has quieted, more lament than anthem as it’s Hero steps back, returning to your side, he nods grimly, “... Then, let’s end this quickly.”

You know your will boys will do their best to heal them, and failing that, you hope that they’ll hear the requiem of the Twili rather than the lament once they’re at peace, that they'll find some form of threnody.

It is a horrible thing, to be forced to die as a beast.

[mvrcellas]

myrcella baratheon, ward of winterfell.

cersei had told myrcella, warned her, that she would find no COMFORT in the cold -- not with these so called northern animals and their frosty natures. cersei said that myrcella belonged in the warmth and sunshine, under her wing. she was sure that her mother's heart would simply FAIL if she were to learn that not only was myrcella thriving in winterfell, but that she found in herself a desire to never want to LEAVE. even in their grief, she had seen the love that they all have for each other. sure, the starks and those who reside in the north might be just a tiny bit stiff, but there was a DEEP love and respect between them all that she has very rarely seen in the red keep. catelyn stayed by bran's side night and day -- would cersei do the same for her if she were hurt? did myrcella sit in her heart the same?

[sunshinerotting]

i hate to say it but it IS offputting when derek hale is happy

[transdimensional-haboob]

Wistfully thinks of Spellwind, I should make a headcanons up to ep 31 list its just my equivalent of like Skyrim or lotr where theres so much going on and so dense but god damn one of my favorite episodes was when two of my favorite characters became trees and the entire experience was like...they were tripping on shrooms but also one with the shrooms? Its like episode 8

and I love the dms orc captain that hates going on land and is there for the in between transportation from sea to sea land to land ferryman (not really I feel like its mostly hard to narrate and have a character at the same time) I just love captain buttocks' (yeah I'm pretty sure thats his name) humor and how him and djett ('jet') were closer in the beginning

I love ty and varsha together but I also ship smith with them as time went on, I can't tell who I want to joke as the third smith and varsha are friends to lovers, ty and varsha are irritated assholes to lovers, smith is just a jaded old fuck that loves his morons (he respects varsha a lot and thinks ty is an entertaining idiot)

Varsha and Djett are siblings they love each other like family and share different spells and potions and knowledge of interest notes

I feel like the only person really thinking too deeply about this tabletop story and wanted to drop a few lines of appreciation, I like listening to it to go to sleep since its so slow paced and gently spoken and the music and sound efx is so sweet

[feralbnuuy]

anyone who kills a wolf goes straight to hell

[rinofwater]

Brain says expand on the Umi Bozu crew and indulge in all the ridiculous dymanics that can come with it

Would make a great fanfic, brain says

Brain does not tell me how to do this, just that the vibes would be impeccable

Thank you brain, this is very helpful, I now get to sit here mad about it, appreciate it very much

[luna-loveboop]

I had a conversation with a friend about how much I hate redeads and he genuinely thought I was typoing redheads for ten whole minutes and it reminded me of that post of yours (that I can't find again) 😂

- hero-of-the-wolf

Oooo an excuse to learn how to do links on tumblr

Link to the post

^^Did that work? If it did I'll add it to the other posts

And lol??? I'm imagining you talking about hating redeads' terrible scream that paralyses you for a few seconds- and your friend just nodding along like yeah I hate it when redheads do that.

Language mix ups are cool and your conversation story made me smile, thank you for sharing to me :)) As a redhead I am happy to be confused with a redead in conversation XD

[cj-writes-things]

Love over Law chapter 5

Series tw: animal death, violence, trauma, parental neglect

~~~

Chapter 1 • Chapter 4

Once they were outside the tunnel, Wolfpaw tentatively mumbled, "Dawnfrost, can I ask you something?"

"What's troubling you?"

"I... I was thinking, my mother doesn't really seem interested in, well, being my mother. She's so... moody and disinterested. Why?"

Dawnfrost sighed heavily, wishing she knew how to answer the young cat's question, how to take the sting from her experience of being virtually rejected. Wolfpaw was bound to have asked this question sooner or later.

"Sparrowthorn... was never a very affectionate cat; it just isn't in her nature. She also didn't take too kindly to responsibility."

Dawnfrost paused, a guilty look crossing her face as she spoke of her daughter in such a way, to her kit no less. But the kit in question deserved an explanation.

"But beyond that, some things happened when she was younger that... changed her," she continued, more gently.

"She became more distant and reckless after that, until eventually she had all but cut ties with me. I worried, if I'm being completely honest, when I found out she was expecting kits. I wish things could have been different for you, but what Sparrowthorn went through, the choices she made, they were beyond my control- some of it remains even beyond my knowledge. I'm sure it's hard to understand, but I want you to know that it has nothing to do with you. It's not your fault, and the rest of the clan and I love you very much."

Wolfpaw's ears were low, her golden eyes downcast. She knew Dawnfrost was trying her best to make her feel better, and she was grateful, but she still felt as though she had more questions than answers. Questions that were heavy in her chest and left a sour taste in her mouth, like some part of her knew the answers might be just as painful as the not knowing.

"Thanks, Grandma," she murmured, nonetheless, slowly sweeping her tail back and forth. She nuzzled her head against the older she-cat, who whispered, "Anytime you need to talk, or have questions to ask, I'm here, okay?"

Wolfpaw nodded, her nose touching Dawnfrost's so the elder could sense the motion. Against her will, she yawned. She couldn't help it; the sun had sunk below the horizon, and she had had an exhausting day. Dawnfrost huffed in faint amusement. "You must be tired, young one. Why don't you go to the apprentice den and rest, maybe talk to your friends before dinner?"

"Okay," came the sleepy response. "Goodbye, Dawnfrost."

"Goodbye, my little warrior."

Wolfpaw trudged over to the stack of hollow logs used by the apprentices as a den, her drowsiness fading as she realized she was about to spend her first night sleeping here instead of in the nursery.

This den wasn't the same as it had been when the elders were young; she had known it had been replaced, but now she was fairly sure she knew why.

The old one must have been torn up by that fox.

She was wondering where the clan had found all the hollow logs when she was startled to see a head poking out of one of them. She quickly recovered though as she recognized her friend; Fawnpaw had been waiting inside to greet her.

"Hi, Fawnpaw."

"Hey Wolfpaw!" the perky young she-cat called. "Welcome to the apprentice den! I already set up your new nest; it's beside mine in this log up here. I hope that's okay."

"That's great, thanks!"

"So, how's apprenticeship treating you?"

"Today was pretty easy; I practiced stalking and cleaned out the elders' bedding. But Duskstar says my training will get harder and harder, so they can make sure I'm 'fully prepared for the challenges I will face in the difficult life of a warrior.'" She did her best to imitate the solemn tone her mentor had used.

"Yeah, that sounds pretty similar to my first day. I think they tell all the apprentices that," Fawnpaw giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"Well, it's a rather dramatic way to put it, isn't it? And as far as I've seen, it doesn't really get that much harder, as long as you pay attention and do as you're told. I bet you'll ace your training, Wolfpaw. You're good at everything."

That got a smile.

"Thanks, Fawn."

The light brown she-cat slowly swished her tail for a moment, thinking.

"So, hey, you want me to give you the tour?" she asked.

Wolfpaw tilted her head and responded, "Sure."

"All right, come on then!"

Fawnpaw leapt down from inside her log and beckoned Wolfpaw to follow her. She circled around to the end of one of the bottom logs of the stack, peering into its dark interior.

"This is where Splinterpaw sleeps; he wanted a log to himself, something about personal space. Kinda stinks for Claypaw though, he would have liked having a... logmate? This one here is his," she pointed at the log next to Splinterpaw's with her nose.

"It gets a little more sunlight. I think Splinterpaw likes the darkness in his, but Claypaw prefers the warmth. It's really nice how there aren't too many apprentices; we each got to choose whichever log we wanted. Anyway, I've been saving a spot for you in my log since we moved in. I think Claypaw was hoping Lilacpaw could share his den, but, well, she's the medicine cat apprentice, so, that's not gonna happen. Kinda sad, I guess. We were both looking forward to you two moving in with us."

Wolfpaw froze.

"Wait, Lilacpaw won't be in the apprentice den?"

Fawnpaw tilted her head, meeting her younger friend's concerned gaze.

"No, silly. Don't you know? She'll sleep in the medicine den with Canyonbreeze," she explained.

"Oh," Wolfpaw muttered, her bushy black tail drooping sadly.

"Yeah, it really sucks," added a voice from behind them.

Wolfpaw whipped her head around to see Claypaw padding over to join the two she-cats. His chipper attitude from before was gone; he seemed pretty upset that he wouldn't be seeing his friend as often as he had hoped.

Wolfpaw knew how he felt. She and Lilacpaw had grown up together. Her mother, Silverbreeze, had been a major part of Wolfpaw's upbringing, and the two kits had come to be more like sisters than just denmates. She sighed, realizing that, for the first time in her short life, she wouldn't be sharing a den with the small gray-and-white cat.

"Hey, cheer up," Fawnpaw said comfortingly, noticing her friend's saddened state. "You've still got us, remember? And it's not like you can't see her everyday. She just won't be sleeping in the same place as us."

"Yeah... I guess you're right."

"Of course I am. Now come on," she said, brightening. "It's time for the clan to eat dinner, and you get to join us and pick your own prey for once!"

"All right, I'm coming. Hey! Wait up!"

Fawnpaw had already turned around and raced toward the center of camp, glancing back as if daring the others to try to beat her to the clearing.

Oh, that's how you wanna play it, huh? Okay, I'm game!

Wolfpaw gathered her legs beneath her and threw herself forward, ignoring the prickle of apprehension in the back of her mind and taking off after Fawnpaw. She shortened the gap between them, her paws flying across the rocky ground. At last she caught up, skidding to a halt just as they reached their destination. It felt unpleasantly familiar.

"Whoa," Fawnpaw panted. "You're still faster than me? Like I said, good at everything."

Wolfpaw, trying not to let her thoughts wander to past races, glanced around at the gathered cats. She saw her mentor sitting across the clearing; with a nod to her fellow apprentices, she dashed over to Duskstar's side.

"Greetings, Wolfpaw. Did you tend to the elders' bedding as you were told?"

The little she-cat dipped her head respectfully. "Yes, Duskstar," she answered.

"Good," the blue-gray tabby purred. "I thought as much. Well, now that your duties for the day are done, you may select something from the fresh-kill pile for dinner."

Wolfpaw padded slowly to the boulder in the center of the clearing where warriors deposited the fruits of their hunts throughout the day, letting her gaze drift over the warriors around her.

Almost everyone was there, except Canyonbreeze and Lilacpaw, who were still in the medicine den, and Goldenbrook, whose minor wounds they were tending. The she-cat had tripped over some rocks while hunting and had scratched herself up. Nothing serious, but she had gone to get checked over just in case.

There was one other cat missing, however. One warrior was unaccounted for, and this particular cat's absence stood out to the young apprentice.

Where are you, Sparrowthorn?

~~~

Chapter 6