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haee-elia · 1 year ago

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spence-tober: day 4 - dog walker

pairing: dog walker!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which you get a bit side tracked on a walk around the park by a dog named Tinsel and a cute guy named Spencer

word count: 1901

warnings: overload of cuteness from dogs, dog matchmaker???, fluff (haha get it, cause dogs and fur)

spence-tober masterlist

You hadn’t expected a simple trip around the park would nearly have you banged up on the side of the walking pavement. Really, you had only been skipping one song on your playlist, looked at your phone for half a second while crossing a fork in the park’s path.

You had even looked both ways before glancing down at your phone. The only thing in your path was a man walking a handful of dogs. You both had spotted each other, you moved to the side and he to the other, dragging quite a few leashes with him, and went on your way in different directions.

Or so you thought.

One moment you thought you were fine, changing to a song more to your liking for your relaxing walk about the park and the next you tripped over a leash and fell face forward towards the ground.

However, before you could quite literally eat the concrete of the park path, you crashed into a body instead and still tumbled out of control, this time, towards the grassy sides of the path.

You let out a squeal that you note is quite embarrassing and try and ground yourself. It’s hard, there is still a leash intertwined between your legs and also other legs between tangled between you.

“Oh!”

“Sorry!”

“Excuse me!”

“Uh, um!”

“Give me a second!”

You and this unknown person banter back and forth as you try and untangle and get off the ground and back into your bearings.

While you try and move around a bit, a panting white dog comes into your view and you recognize it immediately. You reach out to pet it, but a hand comes and takes yours.

“Sorry, excuse me.” Someone says. It’s the man who’s unlucky tumble as tangled into you.

The same man who you mused to be walking the handful of dogs. Perhaps you hadn’t paid attention enough or maybe you would have recognized the white pup.

Luckily the mystery man isn’t dressed to the nines, so you don’t feel quite as bad as ending up in the grass with him. He’s tall, you can tell that even as you both are on the ground together. He has a messy mop of brown hair just long enough to bother at his eyes and curl around his ears. Looking into his eyes, you note that they’re chocolate brown, much like his hair.

“Oh,” You say, your instinct is to take your hand away from the gentle yet firm grip he has.

He grunts and finally pushes himself up from the ground, then offers you a hand up as well. The various dogs that had been connected onto leashes in his hand have calmed down enough for the two of you to untangle and get your bearings. Both of your clothes are slightly askew, but other than that, no damage seems to be done.

“Thank you,” You say earnestly, taking his hand once again in yours and letting him help pull you up onto solid ground.

His hand is much larger than yours, it almost envelops yours entirely with only the palm. The leashes that were once in his hand are clipped on a carabiner on a belt on his waist.

“Are you okay?” He asks. There’s a tinge of worry in his expression.

You nod, “Yep, I seem to be okay.” You look over yourself once or twice to make sure. “How are you?”

He also nods, “Good, good. I am so sorry.” He apologizes, “I thought I had given you enough room so we could both pass by, but my dog here darted right towards you. She’s usually so calm. I have no idea why she did that.”

You shake your head and look at the dog he gestures to, it’s the white, small one. The one who came up to you when you were still face first into the ground.

“It’s okay,” You say with a smile. You go to pet the dog again when the man interrupts you again before your hand reaches the pup.

“Sorry, I have to ask that you don’t pet her.” He says with a wince, like he’s embarrassed to say that.

“I’m a dog walker and these aren’t my dogs.” He explains, “I have to ask that you don’t pet any of them. It’s for your safety and theirs, plus the owners like the peace of mind.”

You nod, “I totally understand.” You say, retracting your hand then pointing at the dog.

“That’s Tinsel, right?” You ask.

The man looks confused, but nods, confirming what you were already suspecting.

“Tinsel’s owner is my best friend.” You clarify. You pull out your phone and show a picture of you, your friend, and the dog, Tinsel. “Sometimes I watch Tinsel when my friend goes out of town so she probably got a little excited to see me.”

“I didn’t even see her in the pack of dogs when you were walking towards me on the path.” You describe, “I’m so sorry. That’s my bad.”

“Oh,” The man chuckles a little bit, “That makes a lot of sense. Don’t worry about it. Tin, here, is usually so calm that I didn’t have a tight hold on her leash. When she darted towards you, she jerked my arm and I crashed into you. So, I’m sorry.”

You shrug it off, “No harm was done, so it’s all good.” You give him a smile and a small wave, “Hope the rest of your walk goes well.”

Taking a few steps in the direction your were originally going (past the cute guy with all the dogs), you hear him chatter to the dogs behind you.

“Tinsel, come.”

“Tinsel. Tinsel, come!”

You decide to look back over your shoulder to see Tinsel, standing and staring at you, unmoving from the dog walker’s commands. The rest of the dogs on the leashes, you can tell, just grow ever more impatient in the stop in their walk.

You catch the cute dog walker’s eye and make contact, he blushes when Tinsel refuses to listen to him. Him struggling to get the small white dog moving.

“Tinsel.” He tries demanding this time, “Come.”

It does nothing.

The dog’s eyes still are locked on you and Tinsel has the audacity to have her tail wagging, making the dog walker laugh in exasperation. You grin shyly and wander back over to the man.

Once you reach him, Tinsel spins around twice and her tail starts flipping back and forth even faster. She heads off in the direction of the other dogs waiting, but keeps looking back to see if you’re still there.

“Um,” The man says shyly and slightly embarrassed by the situation. The tips of his ears are reddened. “Would you mind walking in this direction?” He asks, “Just until I can get Tin, here, to follow me?”

You laugh, “Sure, why not.” You agree.

“My name’s Spencer, by the way.” He, Spencer, says while you join him in his stride, a slow walk to allow the dogs to sniff around their surroundings. You offer him your name in return.

“So,” You start saying while minding your way, being careful with the dogs walking around the pair of you. “Dog walking?” You inquire. “You must really be a dog person.”

Spencer chuckles, “Yeah, I like dogs.” His smile is reflected in his eyes, they gleam a little, you note. “I’m actually saving up to buy and run a doggy daycare, but for now, walking dogs is fun enough.”

You smile at his plans and ambition, “Aside from the endless poop and being dragged all day?” You joke.

He matches your smile and laughs with you, “Yes and you’re completely correct, the poop is endless.”

As the two of you walk through the park, a half dozen dogs leading the way, you chatter about getting to know one another and you find yourself lost in the moments you’re spending in the park.

The grassy green surroundings paired with the light blue sky with few clouds in the atmosphere. Spencer’s taller than you, but that doesn’t stop either of you from making eye contact while talking or even when just walking in a comfortable silence. Every now and then you steal some glances of each other, catching each other’s gaze and then blushing and quickly looking away.

Eventually, you both come to realize that you’ve ended up exactly at the fork in the path you had tumbled in beforehand, walking in a complete circle to return where you had started. Spencer’s phone buzzes in his pocket, making the whole group (You, Spencer, Tinsel, and the five other dogs) come to a stop.

“Oh,” Spencer says looking down at his phone, a little dejected if you do say yourself.

Your brows furrow, “Is there something wrong?” You ask slightly worried.

Spencer shakes his head, “Actually, uh, I kinda need to get these dogs back.” He answers, a slightly sullen tone to his voice.

“Oh, right,” You say, remembering the fact that you are not just walking around the park with the man, that he’s supposed to be doing his job. “Sorry for keeping you,” You apologize, feeling slightly guilty now.

He looks up from his phone in less than a second, almost frantic in nature, “No!” He says, startling himself, you, and a couple of the dogs.

“Um, don’t apologize,” Spencer responds and expands, “I’m should be the one who’s sorry.” He offers. “I wasn’t keeping track of the dogs and indirectly tripped you and then asked you to divert your plans because I couldn’t get a dog to listen to me.”

“I wasn’t busy, I promise,” You assure, a shy smile on your lips, “I actually had a good time talking and walking with you.”

You look down at all the wagging tails, “And the dogs, of course.” You quip.

A goofy grin appears on Spencer’s face, “Of course.” He echoes in agreement.

There’s a small expression of hesitation on his face and the hand free of holding his phone comes up to rub the back of his head, “Would you, maybe, want to join me for a walk again?”

“Just the two of us?” Spencer asks nervously.

Your smile grows less shy and wider, the look of excitement impossible to keep hidden from your face, “I’d really like that, Spencer.”

A breathe of relief seems to leave Spencer, “Great, that would be, just, really great.” His hand holding the phone fumbles a little bit, “I’ll give you, uh, my number and I can text you or you can text me or, you know, we could both text each other.” He clears his throat and shakes his head slightly, a little skittish and jumpy.

You giggle at his excitability and nervousness combined. “Sure.” You keep it short, not wanting to fall into a unintelligible rant of your own.

Both of you exchange numbers and awkwardly try to see each other off. Switching between a hug and a handshake before just deciding on a small wave and a nod.

Once again, just like earlier in the day, you go off in one direction on the forked path and you look back to see Spencer going off his way (also looking back, you note) and you’re already to your car when you realize one thing with a wondering smile.

That Tinsel did not try and stop you this time.

a/n: this was really fun to write. i'm still not quite sold on the ending but i think it's pretty okay. let me know if you want more from these au's whether that's sending in specific requests for continuations, hc's, or other dribbles and blurbs. just send in an ask!

#criminal minds #criminalminds #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #dr. spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid au

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cupiditas-and-ao3 · 1 month ago

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Kinks-Your-Tober Day 6

Seems right up the monster fucker alley

“You reek of desperation, witch. What is it that makes a witch so desperate that she would apologize to the monster she created, but not desperate enough to offer a cure?”

“I am not desperate,” Circe barked back at the beast that held her.

Pride. Always pride.

This close to Scylla’s face she could see the lashes that collected ocean spray like beaded diamonds, the eyes that looked like tide pools, the lips that had thinned and pulled away to bare her teeth. Circe wondered if Scylla knew there was a star of orange and pink in her eyes, like a starfish on the wall of a pool, next to a splash of anemone purple. Circe had never loved a fisherman.

The beasts were licking at her feet, tasting the salt and blood and fear off of her, nicking her with their fangs sharpened with magic and time and death. She was painfully aware of how long Scylla’s nails were, thin needle claws that dug into her shoulder and spine where she’d wrapped them around. Of the scaled tentacles that served as legs behind her. Six monstrous heads at her waist, twelve legs of scaled tentacles, and one terrible and beautiful sea nymph at the center of it.

“Then you have come to be devoured,” Scylla held her above one of the heads that began gnashing, that drolled and lunged for her feet. Circe tucked her feet up, pulled them as far as she could from those jaws of black death.

Its teeth pulled at her calf and she screamed with the pain.

“I come to bargain,” she cried. “Please.”

Pride was always so foolish an endeavor.

Scylla snapped her long fingers and the beast resumed growling sulkily on the cave floor, reaching for any beast or fish that happened too close to the edges of the cave. She heard the cries of a dolphin as it was snatched and torn. As another head joined in the carnage. As the splatter of innards and blubber and flesh decorated the walls and was washed away by a fierce wave. As the spine was snapped between two heads, now three heads, now swallowed in pieces by all six.

Circe swallowed down bile.

“Bargain, witch?” Scylla’s voice was just as cruel as the sounds of the feasting beasts. “You have nothing for me.”

“I have something,” Circe said cryptically.

She was buying time.

Scylla waited. Waited for the explanation, for what the witch who cursed her could possibly have if she did not have a cure. When it did not come she barked impatiently and one of her beasts threw a chunk of raw flesh. The monster caught it with one hand and chewed, blood dripping down her pale seafoam green chin and matting in her kelp-like hair. Circe shuddered and looked away from the display as the grain of the muscle tore under Scylla’s nails.

“What do you wish to bargain for, witch?” The barking voice was made sloppy with chewing and saliva and blood.

“A man will sail past you,” Circe began. Scylla snorted. Spat a wad of gristle and blood onto the ground where it was eaten greedily. “He must live.”

Scylla seemed to contemplate it. Seemed to be deciding.

“You aim to take another man from me, after all?”

Her voice was, for a brief moment, not the barking of a new howling pup. It was the lyrical song of a naiads, it was what she had once been. Circe was captivated.

She had never loved a fisherman.

“He is not yours to be taken from you,” she began and then that snarling was back.

“He is my right! He will sail past me and I will devour him and everyone on his ship as is my right! As is my only right after you have made me this,” Circe was thrust so close to Scylla’s face that she could see nothing. Nothing but blurs of color that were the entire world of the ocean. Like opening her eyes underwater and looking up at the sky.

“He is,” Circe admitted. She hated that she was shaking. Hated that she could hear the beasts lapping the blood from her still bleeding calf off the ground where it dripped.

“Then you take him from me,” Scylla’s voice was a warning growl.

“I bargain for his life, and the lives of his crew. His life is promised to another before he sails before you,” Circe chose her words so carefully.

Scylla thought. Chewed it over like a sauce she’d dipped her bleeding chunk of meat in. She set Circe down in the circle of gore and beasts and ran her long urchin-like spines that served as nails through her hair.

“So you are respecting the claim someone else lays to a man?” barking laughter rang between her words. “I suppose even a witch can change. What do you expect me to do? Let him sail as if I am not there?”

A claw pulled Circe’s jaw so she was craning her neck to look in Scylla’s fearsome eyes instead of at the beasts circling her like constrictors.

“I am not that kind,” Scylla growled.

“Not to ignore them. To only attack once. Take what you are owed, but take it once. Whoever they escape with lives to see their next trial.”

“And what do you give me in this bargain?”

Scylla’s nail pierced Circe’s jaw. Blood trickled and the beasts lapped at it.

“Myself. For any vengeance you can meet while they sail.”

That stopped her. It stopped everyone. It stopped the gulls crying in a distance, it stopped the shriek of the wind and the crash of the wives, it stopped the barking and gnashing of the beasts, it stopped Circe’s heart. It stopped Scylla. She didn’t even blink, so frozen by the offer.

“You think you are enough to trade for an entire ship?”

Pride. Always pride.

“I think your rage is enough.”

A beast at her hip lunged, teeth wrapping around Circe’s midsection and slamming her into the wall. Ignoring that it slammed its own face into the wall. Ignoring that the rocks took a sacrifice of the beast’s blood.

“What do you know of my rage?” Screamed through the entire sea.

Even Zeus would have heard it.

Even Hades.

Even the Furies.

“What do you know of ‘enough’?” Those nails ripped into Circe’s hair, pinning her to look at Scylla, pinning her to watch the rage and destruction and sorrow and death on the monstrous face.

“Show me,” she taunted.

Pride. Always pride.

“Witch,” Scylla tore the dress from Circe in one motion, claws caught in the neckline ripping the fabric away easier than the flesh she had earlier torn.

The teeth sank into Circe’s stomach, into her hips, into her thighs. A gaping maw that drew a waterfall of blood as the others fought over the puddle pooling under her feet. She couldn’t feel her legs. She’d heal. Even a minor goddess would heal. If she wasn’t swallowed whole.

She was buying herself time.

Scylla hadn’t agreed to the terms yet. But hadn’t she?

“I was beautiful,” the almost lovely voice barked. “I was loved . I didn’t want Glaucus’ attention. I didn’t want your attention. But you gave it to me. I was happy ,” her voice broke like waves on the jagged rocks below.

The scaled tentacles were twining around Circe’s arms now, spreading them apart like she was waiting for a spear to the chest or the embrace of a lover. And wasn’t she?

“You couldn’t just fucking leave me alone,” Scylla hissed. “I just wanted to be left alone.”

She couldn’t apologize. Couldn’t breathe. Blood was filling the bottom of her lungs, she felt it as easily as she felt her eyes blinking. And then the mouth was releasing her and more scaled tentacles were moving. They wrapped around her legs and spread them until she was spread eagle against the wall. The scales tore at her, the edges as razor sharp as the teeth, but they didn’t puncture deep into her organs. They didn’t sever nerves and sinew. They threatened.

And she healed. It was slow, she could feel the nerves and muscle and veins reconnecting themselves. Scylla didn’t mean to kill her. Perhaps torture.

The shreds of her dress, wine dark and blood stained, fell into the pool of her blood where the beasts snarling tore at it. Her skin replenished, knit back together over wounds still healing. Skin healed so quickly when it wanted to.

“You think that the gods would allow me to heal if a hero decided I was to be slain?” Scylla hissed. Her face, the face that was once a nymph, was so terribly close. She smelled of the rotting things on the surface of the sea, sickly sweet and salt and brine. Circe wanted to gag.

Scyla’s kiss did not make the urge dissipate.

Her kiss was all teeth. Razors and needles in a mouth that had been built for sin before it had been corrupted for things far worse. Circe’s lips bled as her mouth opened. She didn’t know why or what she hoped to accomplish. But then her tongue tasted raw meat and her own blood and her lips screamed with pain.

Tentacles were tearing the inside of her thighs with their scales, bruising her wrists with their constriction. New ones, there were so many more than the four used to restrain her, pressed heavy razor blade weight along her chest. A slice over a breast as one slid down her chest. A slash over her freshly healed hip. A dig into the curve of her soft stomach, the rolls where the meat and fat over her ribs turned to hills and valleys.

Circe had dreamed about being in the nymph’s arms. It had haunted her since she’d used that gods’ damned potion. She imagined that ocean wave laughter as she held the nymph in her arms, she imagined the way she would bounce like waves, the way she would caress and brush and kiss and soothe.

This was anything but that.

This was rough. This was sharp. This was harsh cracks and barks of words meant to wound and touches meant to torture. It was anything but what Circe had dreamed of.

And something in the back of her mind nagged that it was just what she deserved. She created this. She should suffer its consequences.

The kiss broke with a wail of pain and fury and the tip of a tentacle, so sharply ridged and so painful, thrust into Circe’s core. She screamed. Of course she screamed. And she bled. But the blood only served to lubricate the tentacle’s way further inside of her channel, delving and twisting and diving. She screamed and sobbed as the tentacle twisted further into her, curling and stroking and pulling blood and pleasure from her depths. As much as it hurt, being filled felt good . Being punished felt good . Being in Scylla’s embrace felt good .

“You bargained, witch, do not give me anything less than what you offered. I want my vengeance,” the nymph growled, her teeth scraping the edges of Circe’s throat. “I want my rage.”

So Circe screamed. She screamed and wailed and sobbed as she knew Scylla must have when she’d discovered the trick placed upon her. But she didn’t pull away. She thrust her breasts into the painful ridges of scales and into the punishing squeeze of sinewed tentacles. She clenched around the tentacle inside her, around the second when it joined, and she cried with relief and pain and embarrassment as she came around the intrusion.

“Did you enjoy that, witch? Did you derive pleasure from the abomination you created?” Scylla scorned. Her tentacles dove again, holding Circe’s bleeding and ravaged pussy open for more exploration, more vengeance. Scylla’s tentacles curled and stroked, slicing at a spot that made Circe see stars.

She’d never loved a fisherman.

As Circe felt her body tensing, felt the touch of the world unraveling, Scylla pulled her tentacles from the spot deep within her core. And Circe whimpered. She begged with her motions, with the thrust of her hips, with the bounce of her breasts. She cried and begged and needed. And she looked down and saw a tentacle, different than the others, sliding up the bloodied edge of her thigh.

This was not scaled. Was shorter than the others, had been hidden under Scylla’s twelve scaled tentacles. It was slimy, coated in a substance that soothed the wounds on Circe’s thigh as it explored. And when it slid inside of her sorely abused pusy she let out a moan that would rattle Olympus.

It kept going, slicking over the wounds that the scales had torn inside of her, sliding at such a slow and measured pace that Circe almost wondered if it wasn’t deliberate. When she opened her eyes, eyes she hadn’t known she’d shut, Scylla’s head was thrown back. She was panting, her hands stroking over her own breasts and tentacles. The beasts were lying on their sides, panting and writing as if in masturbatory pleasure. And there was the single scale-less tentacle, pressing between her spread thighs from between what could have almost passed for Scylla’s mass of legs. It was thick, far thicker than anything Circe would have tried to take on her own. But after the stretch and abuse of the tentacles, this girth was nothing. Until it hit the wall of her cervix.

Circe shrieked, eyes watering as the tip of the member hit the wall at the back of her pussy, the thin layer separating her womb from the channel that had already been pushed beyond the limits of the human capacity for pleasure. But the intrusion didn’t halt. Circe willed her eyes open, watched the writhing of Scylla’s tentacles and beasts intensify. Watched the monster’s hands running over herself. Listened to a whimpering moan echo through the cavern. And felt the push of the appendage deeper inside of her.

“What-” she slurred, pain and exhaustion too much for her brain now.

“Gonna use you good, witch. You offered me vengeance. You offered me rage. You offered me your body. And I am going,” she cut off abruptly with a trembling moan as the appendage pierced through to the narrower part of the channel, into Circe’s womb. “I am going to use it for. All. It. Is Worth. ”

The appendage thrust and Circe heard someone screaming before she realized it was her. That her throat was raw and tortured. And then Scylla’s tongue, the slimy and blood tasting tongue, was licking behind her teeth, was choking her and making her gag. And then something moved inside of her.

A bulge slid through the appendage - through the ovipositor, as Circe realized what it was - and into her hole. The bulge, the egg , was deposited deep into her womb. Where children embryos would have taken root and grown and matured into children had she ever been so inclined. But she hadn’t. And now Scylla was laying eggs inside of her. She moaned, gutteraly, as Scylla released her mouth and leaned back to watch. They watched together as the ovipositor thrust into Circe, as the bulge ran its course through Scylla, into Circe, and then into her stomach. The whining twitching beasts lapped at Circe’s thighs, at her clit, at her hole around the ovipositor, at her ass.

And it felt good. It felt good to have all of the wet slithering tongues on her. To be prodded into. To be full. So deliciously full. And then when she thought that she was so full nothing that Scylla would stop, when her stomach was distended enough that she could no longer feel the member latched inside of her womb, she let out a final trembling orgasm and fell limp in Scylla’s hold.

And then another egg slid into her. She screamed. She looked up. She looked into Scylla’s eyes which were once again so close to her.

“You said I had you while they sailed. They haven’t even reached the cliff yet. You are still mine, witch.”

#nsft #monsterfucking #monster fucking #fanfic #smut #kinktober #ovipositor #ovi kink #greek mythology #long read below the cut #i cut out the backstory for tumblr posting so check the fic if you want the whole thing #cw: gore #gore lover #gore kink #teratophillia

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lucigoo · 7 months ago

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So, I'm going to make this a Masterlist of all my Hobbit fics as I write them. I'm also going to attmept to put them in some type of order. Hopefully it's easier for others to anvigate the mess that is my Tumblr lol <3

The Hobbit - All are Bilbo/Thorin unless stated otherwise Active Wips: A Home, A Pack, A Place of Love (Animal Au) Summary: Bilbo is a corgi and he has become the guardian of a traumatised little corgi pup. He has to leave their cosy home and hope for the best. For him and Frodo.

Hopefully he will find a ew place to call home, a new family for him and Frodo, hopefully they will thirve. I want you right here, where you belong:Home with us (Bilbo/Thorin, Sirius/Remus crossover) Summary: Thorin has moved to "The United Kingdoms" with his friends and family.

Follow his life as he ends up an unexpected father, Uncle and husband, and extends his family with wizards, witches, centaurs, goblins and, sadly, elves.

Bilbo stays in Erebor fics:Stop me Fading (Needs major re edtiting) Summary: Its a few weeks since BOTFA. Bilbos running around like a headless chicken, The Company are being plonkers, Thranduil and Dain are being antagonistic, Bards just a cinnamon roll and Gandalf keeps disappearing for long amounts of time (for good causes of course). There's one lonely, sad little hobbit on the plains outside of the Lonely Mountain. Bagginshield-tober (A uncomplete series) Summary: A series of fics spanning from LakeTown until Bilbo's death. Bilbo stayed in Erebor, this is his and Thorin's life. Afterlife Fics: I will join you Summary: MCD!! Bilbo sits with a dying Thorin, knowing he will join him. Dead or not, this will not be the last time he seee his beloved. A Little Drop of Rain Summary: Thorin holds his dying one in his arms. All he can do is hope he will see him again after his life is over. It was a long life and all Thorin wants is to be reunited with his hobbit. Defying Death (or at least the ones in charge) Summary: Bilbo has finally died, and now Lord Mandos wants to shove him away to Lady Yavanna's Green Gardens. Well that wont do. After all, Thorin wont be in Yavanna's gardens and Bilbo wont stay where Thorin isnt.

He's a burglar, and if he can smuggle his dwarves out from under Thranduil's nose, he can smuggle himself into Mahal's Halls under the Valar's noses, right?

Reshirement: Changeling Child (Mpreg) Summary: Thanks to his Stone headed nephews, Bilbo now has a new quest. One that needs cleverness and diplomacy. Not the reckless battle tactics of dwarrow. This is the most important quest Bilbo will ever go on, even more imprtant then facing a dragon. For the most important being in his life. Animal Au's: A Pasture Too Small for A Bovine’s World so Large Summary: Bilbo is an odd Highland Bull, so odd that he has had enough and takes Primula, Drogo and baby Frodo to find a new place. A new home.

Thorin and his family are an odd little herd of Bison. An odd herd with room for a few other strange bovines. Wait for me in the Aurora Bearalis Summary: Bilbo is a red panda, he had had a good life. He had managed to make it to 64 seasons (16 years) when most red pandas were lucky to make 40 seasons (10 years).

Thorin doesnt want to say goodbye to his little Orso but he has too, hopefully they can find one another in another life. Ive found Frodo ....and he found you? Summary: Canine distemper has stolen all of the Bagginses away apart from Bilbo and little Frodo. No he has to find his kit, who has wandered off, again, and keep them safe from "The Sick". If only he wasn't alone doing it.

Bittersweet/hopeful ending: The Last Meeting (Until Arda is Remade) Summary: Bilbo is a sad, lonely hobbit in Rivendell. What is left of The Company, his friends, his Family find him there. There are less then there should be.

This is Bilbo's last meeting with the few remaining dwarves he adores. Until they meet again, when the world is remade, hopefully. Sad Ending: The Demented King Under the Mountain Summary: TW MCD, Murder, Thorin did not beat the dragon sickness. Thorin did not defeat the Dragon-sickness and in his rage destroyed the gift he was given to cherish. “How rare and beautiful it truly is that you existed, and that you existed with me, for me" Summary: It is time for Bilbo to leave The Shire, he is going to make his way to Erebor, hopefully.

Before that, he makes his way to his oak tree, the last living thing he has that reminds him of Thorin, it is time to say goodbye. One more hour with you Summary: Bilbo doesnt want it to end, he just wants one more day, one more hour, one more minute with his beloved. He will deny the truth in front of him to get it if he has too. You Never Cared, Why Start Now? Summary: It started with the fires burning through Erebor. It will end with the fires burning through Bag End. The Last Durin Princess returns home (Gen fic, Dis-centric) Summary: The Last Durin Princess returns home, but home is a tomb. A place with ghosts. With her dead borther and her dead sons.

When home is no longer home, all it is is a place of pain and heart break. What is the last of her line supposed to do? How is she supposed to go on? You were to late Summary: Bilbo is watching the eagles fly overhead in victory. With Thorin's cooling hand in his, Bilbo isnt sure what their is to feel victorious over.

Quest Fics: Dwarrow hugs in the dark Summary: The Fell Winter wasnt just a time whe hobbits starved, it ws much worse then that. An entire generation of hobbits traumatised.

For one Bilbo Baggins, on a quest with a troop of rude dwarves, the memories become nightmares whilst on the road. Maybe waht he needs is dwarrow hugs off a dwarrow king? A heart of stone and Fire in his soul Summary: Thorin is but a ghost of a king, desperate and making stupid choices. Bilbo is a hobbit out of The Shire, trying to find his place. But he needs to keep his daft dwarven king alive to succeed. The trials and tribulations of a married hobbit (a bowman's persepctive) Summary: Bard see's a small hobbit amongst a crowd of dwarves clamouring to get on his barge. From that first glimpse he makes a friend, suprised by who his new friend has married. Follow the events from Lake Town until after from Bard's pov. Far over the Misty Mountains:A hobbit with a heart Summary: Bilbo's home is suddenly invaded by a troop of dwarves. He would be bad, should be mad, but that song ....

Modern Au's: "Bring Your Older Gays To Play" at Club Erebor Summary: Frodo had convinced Bilbo to go the event night at his favourite queer club. All Bilbo wanted to do was go home, back to his books and cup of tea. Well, that was until Mr tall, dark and sexy was pushed into him. The reason is you, the reason is him, the reason is me (Dwalin/Nori, background Bilbo/Thorin) Summary: Nori hates himself for the 4 and a half years he spent in prison. For destroying everythig good in his ife. For losing everything he had to live for.

Hes out now and hopefully he can fix his realationships and see his son again. ABC's of Avoiding Bullying and Crying (Gen fic, The Companny are all young children) Summary: Thorin is a big grown up 7 year old dwarf. Frerin is a little 5 year old dwarf who is usally bugging Thorin and his friends to play. So why didn't he bother them on this day, and who was he with? It's a good job I love you! Summary: Bilbo sees that Thorin has once again forgotten to take the rubbish out, bloody husbands, he thinks exasperated.

LOTR Fics: Akmâthu Bask:Song of the Bath (Gen Fellowship fic) Summary: During a bath by the river, Gimli starts singing Bilbo's bath song. Confusing the hobbits. It turns out that isnt the only song of The Hero of Erebor's that they sing in the Lonely Mountain. Between the forest and the sea, I leave my heart with thee - (Gen fic, Elrond-centric) Summary: Elrond is set to sail to Valinor to reunite with his wife when he has a vision. How can he leave when his he sees his precious daughter dying alone, her grief clear through time and space? Two Lives Will Be Spared This Day (Boromir/Theodred) Summary: Boromir looks into Galadriel's mirror and he doesnt like what he sees. Maybe if he makes a different choice he cna save himslef, and the love of his life.

#My fics #The Hobbit #LOTR #Bagginshield #dwalin/nori #gen #boromir/theodred

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epebe · 1 year ago

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mascot-tober day 13

Sinder's Pyro Pup!

#vtuber #mascot #sinder #pyro pup #october challenge #art challenge

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adminbryantsaki · 1 year ago

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Oregano.

Alpha! Werewolf! Shouta x Luna! reader. Summer Rut.

(I do not own My Hero Academia or the characters within. Anything associated with that fandom belongs to Horikoshi Kohei. This story belongs to my 2023 Spice-tober collection. I hope you enjoy. If this story isn’t your cup of tea, blend of spices, or brew of coffee move on. Reader discretion is advised.)

TW: Omegaverse shenanigans, Sex scene, impregnation. WC: 965

The weather outside was warm and sunny, you could feel the rays of sun beaming down on your skin as you walked through the forest. Little did you know was that you were being hunted by a wolf. Not just any wolf, but that of a werewolf. You arrived back at you small log cabin that was far away from any form of civilization or other people from your walk and barricaded your door behind you as you put your kettle on for some oregano and mint tea. As you waited for the water to boil, you began a fire in your fireplace to begin warming your house for the cold of that fall evening. After you made your tea, you got settled into your chair by the fireplace with your book and listened to the beginning patters of raindrops on your glass windows which was a very soothing noise that helped you relax and enjoy your book. After a couple of hours enjoying your book, you looked up to see that night had fallen, and you wanted to prepare a quick dinner. You did so and as you were cooking, you felt as if something was watching you from the not-so-distant forest that surrounded the cabin that you resided in. You peered out the window from your loft where your nest was and saw a pair of big yellow glowing eyes looking up at you from the edge of the forest under the big full moon. You rolled your eyes and climbed back down the ladder to your front door which you unlocked and peered outside.

“Shouta? I know it’s you out there and I know you are here because you’re in rut. Stop it with all the mysteriousness and get over here.” You called out and you saw the werewolf stride from the edge of the forest and walk up to you, putting one arm up and leaning against the doorframe. As usual, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, only a pair of rather tight blank shorts that showed off every muscle under the thin cloth, and you could smell his scent of pine and coffee from the edge of the forest, but now that he was closer, the scent was stronger and you were now picking up the pheromones and boy, were they making your mind fuzzy. He smirked and you let him into the cabin, where he helped you into his arms and up into your loft where he laid you down in your nest and kissed you deeply. When he pulled back, he brushed your hair out of the way to check where your mark was that he gave you the last time he came to your cabin for his rut. The mark was a little faded as it had been a month but he would make sure the mark would be fresh and bright for the next month that he would be out in the woods and away from you. That might change though after this rut.

“Mmm, I see that my mark has faded. I’ll give you a new one, shall I?” He asked as a rhetorical question as you knew that you were his. He bit down on your neck, refreshing your mark and earning a moan from your lips that was music to his ears. He pulled back, licking the small drops of blood from his lips as he used his claws to tear off his shorts and line up his cock with your already dripping entrance.

“Already wet for me? Did smelling my scent send you into heat like it did last time?” He asked as he wrapped your legs around his waist and slid his cock into you, all the way up to his knot where he pushed it in with some difficulty as it was very swollen with his seed. You moaned when his knot was in and he let out a deep groan that rumbled out from his chest. Your entrance gushed out more slick to help lubricate his girth so it would slide in deeper so he could have a better chance of getting you pregnant with his pups. He began to thrust into you now that everything between the two of you was well-lubricated so he could move with ease. You held onto the sheet below you as you were being roughly banged with a hard amount of pressure from your Alpha. You let out a string of moans that mixed with the slapping noise if his balls against your ass. His pace picked up and you felt your inner walls clamp down on his knot, helping him to release deep into your womb, staying still for a few minutes while still inside of you and laid down next to you. He kissed you and rubbed your stomach, in hope that he got you pregnant this time. You came down from your high slowly, looking over at him and smiled.

“Are you going to leave before the sun comes up again?” You asked as you remembered your nest always being void of him when you woke up the next morning. “I think I’ll stay this time.” He spoke and kissed your cheek. “I’d like that.” You told him and smiled, kissing him back before you dozed off in his arms. He pulled out of you and fell asleep soon after. The End.

#bnha #admin writes #mha #bnha aizawa #bnha omegaverse #mha aizawa #mha eraserhead #mha kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #smut #bnha kinktober #spice tober 2023 #spicetober 2023 #bnha eraserhead

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higgs-the-god · 1 month ago

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doing a personal challenge called pup-tober. its where i turn the characters i care about into puppies. its not when they were puppies, its them being turned into them. day one and two

#art #half life #gordon freeman #barney calhoun #yeah these are getting tagged #towgiap au #TECHNICALLY #imagine going gray at like. idk. 6 months old? idk #chumtoad #never ask me to draw another one again #pup-tober #i will definitely remember that tag

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wafflelovingbatgirl · 2 years ago

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Got my Mistborn swag box & the best item is a real Soonie Pup!

Presumably not Tober’s Accurate Soonie Pup but he is reversible! So cute!

#Mistborn #year of sanderson #mistborn era one #mistborn era 1 #tensoon #Soonie pup #brandon sanderson #mistborn era 2 #mistborn era two

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lewis-winters · 10 months ago

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Day 13: Fear

Part of my OC-tober 2022 (that will get fucking finished in 2024 so help me god)! Well. We're indulging this time around with some Baldur's Gate 3 on my Band of Brothers/HBO War Blog. I guess. Honestly, with how many OCs I have in other fandoms, I might just start playing around with them for this prompt list, too!

tw: If you're starting to notice a pattern in my writing with parenthood, in iterations of both problematic or good, uuuuuhhhh no you fucking don't.

They’ve been sitting by the fire in the Elfsong tavern for a whole of hour, in perfect silence, before Jaheira chooses to break it. “You will not return upstairs.”

It’s not a question. Still, Pasiphaë answers it as one. “Not until they’re all in bed. I’ve no patience right now,” she tells her with a deep sigh. “For anyone or myself. I… do not like who I was today.”

Belligerent. Jumpy. Too slow to react, too impulsive in her decisions. Near unrecognizable, as compared to her original cool and collected demeanor at the beginning of their journey. She expected better of herself, and her companions definitely deserved better than the kind of mess she’s become. But they’ve been running on near fumes for the past few days, having been tossed about here and there by Mystra, Shar, Lorroakan, cultists, Orin, and Cazador, all alike. On top of that, Serafina had decided to join in on their quest, despite Pasiphaë’s explicit orders for her to get out of the city while she still could—truly, there was a time when her sweet little girl would obey her with no question, but alas! she’s inherited her other mother’s bullheaded-ness. Pun intended. Not for the first time, Pasiphaë found herself wishing that Melisandre were still around to share in her pride over their daughter’s immense bravery. The abrupt reminder of what she no longer had—after several months of not thinking about Mel even once—had been enough to throw her off her rhythm completely. The day had already started being kind of shit.

Ulder Ravengard and his unfortunate decision to mouth off about his son’s new appearance was the last straw.

“I lost my temper.” The verbal dressing down was spectacular while it was happening. Invigorating, even. Pasiphaë doesn’t remember the last time she’s felt such catharsis. After the months of non-stop action, it was good to release it all.

It was the stunned silence afterward that felt particularly… damned. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Bah, he deserved it,” Jaheira scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. “He is better off for listening to your wisdom.”

“Calling whatever that was ‘wisdom’ is too generous.”

“But it is what it is: a mother’s wisdom.”

Pasiphaë snaps; “I’m not Wyll’s mother,” and Jaheira tilts her head back and lets out a hearty HA! loud enough to draw the attention of other patrons.

“You are not just his mother, that is for sure,” Jaheira says, wagging an admonishing finger at her. “All of them seem to have attached themselves to you like little suckling pups to a bitch’s teats.”

“Your metaphors leave much to be desired, Jaheira.”

“You were protecting your pup, is what I mean,” Jaheira shrugs. “Even if it is from his own blood. Wyll holds you under no contempt for such a display. I may even go so far as to say that he’s grateful for it.”

“Perhaps.” Oh, but Wyll loves his father so—even when the man has done nothing but abandon him. Pasiphaë knows it isn’t right to get between father and son, not as a simple party member, and most certainly not while one still holds out hope for reconciliation. She might’ve just ruined Wyll’s chances back there, with her vindictive nature and even sharper tongue. If she had, would he ever forgive her?

As if reading her thoughts, Jaheira tsks. “We mothers, we always want what is best for our children. Nobody can fault us for that.” There’s a small smile on her face; a tiny quirk of the corner of her lip that feels conspirative. Like they’re in on a joke together.

Technically, they are. Pasiphaë smiles back. Or tries to. “Whatever you say.”

Their conversation, once again, falls to silence. Patrons come and go, and the tavern keeper’s boy comes once and twice to stoke the fires until, finally, they fizzle out into glowing embers. The night grows even quieter soon after, with the patrons quickly disappearing out the door, or into other rooms, until, finally, it is just them, and the occasional drunkard outside.

“You can go. Rest,” Pasiphaë says, aware that it is late. Tomorrow (later?), they are to confront Gortash. “We’ll need all our strength come morning.”

“You are determined to keep vigil.”

“Someone has to.”

“If I were to climb up those stairs, I would not be surprised to see some of your pups waiting for you by their fire,” Jaheira chuckles, standing up with an exaggerated groan—her knees are not what they used to be. “No doubt, they will send me back down again—or even come down themselves—if I return empty handed. Come, now.”

She offers her hand.

Pasiphaë stares at it.

Something in her chest shudders with anxiety and—is it her imagination? The tadpole behind her eye, wriggling with a sordid kind of glee?

“I fear I cannot be to them what they need me to be, Jaheira.”

Jaheira frowns, confused. Still, she keeps her hand out. “And what is that?”

What, indeed? A leader? With the amount of times she’s failed them? Perish the thought. A caretaker? Barely. Her hands are not made for healing, anymore. Certainly not with the Triad’s silence and her simmering resentment over it. And what comfort she could give is quickly dwarfed by the enormity of all their suffering. What use is a lullaby, when she couldn’t even hold Karlach enough to soothe her tears? What use is her sword, when it can scarcely keep Lae’zel from the betrayal of her kin, queen, and god? Clearly, Pasiphaë couldn’t even call herself a protector—just two days ago, she’d failed to protect Astarion from his worst possible self, leaving the burden to Gale, instead; and just last tenday, Shar had taken from Shadowheart her last connection to her past, while all Pasiphaë could do was helplessly watch. Hells, she certainly couldn’t protect Wyll, who only ever looked to her for wisdom and guidance. Or even Gale, whose final decision haunts them all—Astarion, especially, who has begged her over and over again to make Gale see reason. But how could she, when all she could think about is his fate as both Faithless and Discarded? She understands too well the challenge that lays before him to possibly talk him out of his task in any way that matters. The blasted Wall remains a prominent phantom in Gale’s mind as much as hers; but while she’s resigned to her own fate, that doesn’t mean he should be, too.

Gods, but what will she tell Morena, then? Tara? Astarion? That she let their beloved boy die, simply because the folly of the gods and their selfish nature was too strong for her to fight? No. That would not do.

And yet. She hesitates.

“If I am their mother, as you say I am,” she tells Jaheira. “I am a shit mother. My Melisandre would be ashamed to see how poorly of a mother I am being.”

Jaheira knits her brows together. “Your partner?”

“Yes.” Her beloved. The mother of her children. The balm to her soul. The light in her darkness; Pasiphaë is never going to see her again. “She was always better at this than I—my children—I was never—”

“Serafina seems to adore you.”

“Now,” Pasiphaë entreats, feeling the blasted tadpole wriggle and squirm behind her stupid eyes the more distressed she becomes. “I have failed her before, terribly, and it was only time that allowed those wounds to heal. Time is not on my side, now. If I fail them—when I fail them—”

She stops. She cannot bear to think of it. But it is inevitable. “I fear that it is not a matter of if, but when I fail them, Jaheira. I am cursed to repeat my mistakes. And when I do… gods when I do…”

“You will not.”

“You are a fool to—”

“Ha!” Jaheira barks, snatching back her offered hand to reach out and shake Pasiphaë by the shoulders. Like she were a kitten being pulled back by her scruff. Gone is the amicable, conspiratorial smile, replaced thoroughly by a stern glare. “It is you who is the fool to let such thoughts paralyze you!” She lets her go, wags a finger in her face, “you have fallen out of practice in the art of seeing yourself as what you are. What you are truly capable of.”

“But I am capable of failure!”

“And you are capable of triumph!” Jaheira snaps, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration. “Why are you so determined to fail?”

Pasiphaë blinks. Blinks again. Something hot rolls down her cheeks and she scrubs at them with her hands. They come away wet.

“You said, once, that you are destined for the Wall of the Faithless. This is the truth. In many ways, you are,” Jaheira continues, kneeling on the ground so as to catch her eyes. “But you are not dead yet. Your pups are not dead yet. Pull it together; you must see this—if not for yourself, then for them.”

For them. Yes. For them. Children are only as resilient as their parents, Melisandre used to say. Whisper in her ear, when the worst of the grief had taken over as their baby girl cooled in her arms. Phaedra is gone, but Xenodius and Serafina yet live. For them, Pasiphaë had rallied. Taken up what strength she had left, and trudged forward.

Get up, she thinks Melisandre would say, now. Get up, my love. They are hurt, but they are yet living. Get up.

“I wish I had your wisdom,” Pasiphaë says, finally, after a long moment of silence. It comes out in a croak, barely a whisper, barely even words. Still, she manages a small smile. “True mother’s wisdom.”

Jaheira tsks. But slowly, she too returns a smile. “You have it. As I said: you are just… out of practice. Come, now,” again, she gets up on her creaky knees with an exaggerated groan.

And offers her hand. “Your pups might sleep better, knowing that their mother is nearby.”

This time, Pasiphaë takes it. “Their bitch of a mother?”

Jaheira laughs. Laughs and laughs, even as she pulls Pasiphaë toward the stairs and their camp. It’s loud and bawdy and definitely a great disturbance. But it does sound like music, and Pasiphaë likes hearing it. “Just so!”

Pasiphaë Elago is my Tav. She's a moon-elf, and a Paladin of Ilmater/the Triad turned Godless Paladin-- it's a long story. She's named Pasiphaë because her late wife, Melisandre, was a druid whose wild shape was a bull. I think I'm funny. Before the events of BG3, she was an adventurer in her own right, and is technically retired and is literally broaching 500 by the time she's kidnapped by the Ilithids. That being said, because she's so old and had just lost her wife a few years prior, she doesn't romance the BG3 characters but accidentally adopts them all during their whole tadpole ordeal. Oh make no mistake, Astarion, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Lae'zel tried to hit that, but she shut that down so fast-- "Some of you are as old as my eldest grandchild. It's awkward." Team Mom! Total GILF!! And also!! suffering. Help her, she thought she was done having to parent like this after watching 2 of her 3 children (the last died during the Spellplague) grow up, move out, and make families of their own. She's supposed to be RETIRED, damnit. She's trying so hard. She just wants a NAP.

Speaking of Greek Myths, isn't it funny that Astarion shares a name with the Minotaur? I swear, I didn't think of that before naming Pasiphaë. I did, however, think of it when naming Ariadne Ancunin, my other BG3 OC, who happens to also be Astarion's biological sister. The name's important. Ariadne gave Theseus the power to kill her Minotaur brother, after all. But that's for another day entirely.

None of this makes sense to any of you. That's fine. It's for ME.

#stella's oc-tober 2022 #estrella_marie #there's bloodweave in this because I Care Them unfortunately #my stuff always revolves around the flaws found in parenthood and I don't want to... think too hard about that right now!!!!!#and this is more telling than actually showing lmao im so sorry #i had to cram so much into this just to explain pasiphae's psyche and like in the end it just sorta. fucks off a cliff.#i just wanted to get this done so i could work on the hanahaki au lmaaaoooo im so sorry #pasiphaë elago #not hbo war

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iconicanemone · 1 year ago

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middle of the night wake up

oc-tober day 4: waking up from a nightmare

prompt by @icannotreadcursive

Ted wakes up from a nightmare. Good thing zeir not alone, right?

Most of the time, when you’re not getting enough sleep, you don’t remember your dreams.

Which was a real downer when you wake up gasping in the night, mind blank as you try to catch your breath, eyes wide. Trying to see what had gone wrong.

Ted rolled over onto zeir knees, breathing heavily as ze tried to push back the nausea that rose from zeir gut.

“Hey, are you alright?” Ted glanced up, seeing the serval sitting against the blinking streetlight.

Taking another breath, Ted sat, ear flickering as ze ignored the dog.

A silent moment passed, before a shadow fell onto Ted as Coby sat behind zem

“I couldn’t sleep either.”

Ted scoffed, turning to frown at the younger pup, who was sitting criss crossed. “You volunteered as watch.” Ted turtly said. “It would have been disappointing if you did fall asleep.”

“But it’s so boring!” Coby whined, leaning backwards far enough to flop onto the floor. “Where are all the zombies?”

Ted’s ears slicked down as the feline’s frown deepened into a scowl. “Zombies weren’t what caused the fall of civilization. I sincerely hope that you were attempting to be humorous.”

Coby laid there for a moment, before bouncing back up. “Oh definitely.” He said with a grin. “That’s me trying to stop being bored. Cause now that you’re up, we can keep watch together!”

“That is unnecessary.” Ted said, turning away. “It would be beneficial if we all got enough rest. As I have woken up, and will be staying up, you best be going to sleep so that you have more energy tomorrow.”

“Aww,” Coby cooed, his voice slipping into something that was neither pity nor teasing. “You do care for me.”

“No.” Ted corrected him. “In a survival setting, it is better to group together to collect resources and work more efficiently. Besides, our mutual companion would be devastated if you wasted your sleep on keeping me company.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say it like that,” Ted whipped around to see their fox friend propping herself up, his fur mussed up as only a restless sleep could. “But I don’t think anyone is going back to sleep anytime soon.”

“Alex!” Coby jumped up, darting over to sit next to the taller fox as she sat up. “We didn’t wake you, did we?”

“Yeah, you did.” Alex confessed messing with the bandages on her arms. “It’s not your fault though. I wasn’t sleeping well anyway.”

Ted scoffed, bringing zemself over to sit on Alex’s other side. “Clearly this location wasn’t the optimal place to camp.”

Coby frowned at zem. “But you said that it was the best place we had.”

“I did say that.” Ted confirmed. “But that does not mean that it was the best we could have gotten. Just simply the closest one without having to travel through the night.”

Anything Coby was about to say was hushed by Alex, covering both his and Ted’s mouth as her eyes narrowed at the window to the outside. Ears rotating as he listened to something neither Ted nor Coby could hear, she growled.

“Raiders.” Ted correctly identified, words muffled by the paw on zeir mouth.

Alex nodded, taking her paws off of his companion’s muzzles.

The group stood in a quiet flurry, stuffing the supplies they left out into their bags. They quickly left out the back door into the alleyway, climbing up the fire escape to get off of the streets.

Ted was unable to see the raiders from their higher viewpoint once they were settled on the roof. But as ze glanced up at Alex, looking at his slicked fur and attentive ears assured that they were still there.

“Come.” Ted said, turning away from the edge of the roof. “We will not be sleeping anymore tonight. We might as well continue along our path.”

“Alright.” Coby said hesitantly, his eyes drawn to the streets below as he slowly followed zem.

Alex took a step towards Ted, before turning back around and sweeping Coby off his feet with a squawk from the other canine. Coby quickly grabbed hold onto the bag on Alex’s back, riding piggyback as Alex bounded over to where Ted was standing, a smirk on zeir face as they watched.

“Where now?” Alex asked quietly, ears tilting as she shifted her bag to sit more comfortably on his shoulders.

Ted looked to where the sky was starting to lighten, the black of the night turning way to an orange sky. “Onward.” Ted said, frowning at their accurate yet poetic response.

Alex nudged at Ted’s side, Coby giving a small giggle. “Onward.” Alex said with a small smile.

“Onward!” Ted said in a hushed shout, pushing up to where he was pointing up high above Alex’s head.

Ted scoffed, turning away to hide the smile on zeir face as they continued along the rooftops.

#Iconic fic #Iconic ocs #apocalypse #furry #Ted #Alex #Coby #feline #Serval #dog #canine #fox #Yep I skipped day 2 and 3 #May come back to one of those days eventually #Who know though #Oc-tober

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kabretoss · 1 year ago

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OC-tober 1: Evan

A parka and no gloves or hat, sneakers and jeans, lazy gestures at winter wear. A melted circle around a fire that licked lovingly at a night sky painted heavy and low with rolling clouds, themselves stained dirty orange-purple to the north with the lights of the city. A log, rather than the nearby bench, a thermos, a textbook, and a boy.

On clear nights that sky was full of low-hanging stars, made huge and bright by the clear-aired prairies, and he’d be looking up at them. Tonight was biology homework, though: a sheet of lined looseleaf was crammed at a slight diagonal on the page opposite the one he was reading, filling slowly with crabbed little notes, clumsy for the angle and in the darkness. It was a bubble of quiet, the little scratches of his pen and the lazy pop of the fire kind companions to his concentration.

“Hey, nerd.”

He almost kicked his thermos over and was immediately embarrassed by his own surprise, frowning it over his shoulder at Cassie. “What?”

She circled around and sat beside him, picking up the thermos cup-lid and stealing a sip of his hot chocolate and wrinkling her nose at him right back. “Seriously? I can sneak you out some schnapps or something to put in this. A big sister always provides.” Doing a little flourish she sketched a shitty little bow, a pitch-perfect imitation of their dad.

She was twenty-one and he was sixteen, and this was a familiar dance. “I’m good. I’ve got homework.”

“You’re so fucking boring.” She made a face at him and he made one right back. “Half the wolves are drunk off their asses already. It’s the same thing every month. I’m so bored. They’re playing charades,” Cass whined.

“What time is it?” January in Alberta meant dark at like four, which played hell with the technicalities of a werewolf’s shift cycle. If they were still human enough to be playing charades and boring Cassie, it couldn’t be much past seven. Soon the pups would be under Evan’s mom’s babysitting house-arrest, and the adults would be partying it up drunk on the moon rather than on schnapps. A thought occurred. “Is Nora going out with the adults tonight?”

“I don’t fucking know, she’s your friend, not mine.” Cassie stole the half-full thermos and more of his hot chocolate. She was giving him a good solid gimlet-eye, some horrid thing dawning behind her judgy gaze. “You want I should distract that meathead brother of hers so you two can sneak off and make out?”

Firelight and cold gave great plausible deniability for blushes, but Evan was the easiest read in his family. “No, um, I’m good. We’re not, uh. And I have homework.” He patted his palm on the textbook, as if its friendly presence would save him from meddling sisters.

Cassie leaned back, almost far enough to topple, and groaned. “Come on, little man, give me something to work with here. You’re the worst! I’m going go to tell her you’re out here pining and playing with fire! You know she loves that shit, she’ll come running.”

“Don’t you dare, you absolute nightmare.” He straightened urgently.

“I’m doing it.” Cass was up again. He’d made a mistake: she’d gotten a reaction out of him and now she was a dog on a bone, grinning at him all teeth as she backed out of the comfortable circle of the fire, which was crackling with increased urgency itself. “You’re never gonna make a move. You need that big-sister magic.”

“I hate you so much,” he moaned, heart rabbiting away in his chest. She laughed as she kicked her way through the snow back to the farmhouse; he looked at his textbook and wondered if he could finish his chapter before he had to find out whether or not Nora would come out after him if she knew he was here.

#oc tober #OC #original fic #Evan #writing #werewolves #sorta #anyways

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