#related to a land of wolves

[fromtheseventhhell]

She was the night wolf. But only when she dreamed. (The Blind Girl, ADWD) "The hour of the wolf. The blackest part of night, when all the world's asleep." (The Kingbreaker, ADWD)

Thinking thoughts...It's the longest, darkest hour of the night, Arya is the Night Wolf + Dark Heart, it's the time when "the world's asleep" and Arya wargs into Nymeria and the leader of a giant pack of wolves while sleeping, and it's likely she'll reunite with Nymeria right before the long night...

[greenwitchcrafts]

January 2025 Witch Guide

New Moon: January 29th

First Quarter: January 6th

Full moon: January 13th

Last Quarter: January 21nd

Sabbats: None

January Wolf Moon

Also known as:  Bear Moon, Center Moon, Chaste Moon, Cold Moon, Disting Moon, Freeze Up Moon, Frost Exploding Moon, Goose Moon, Great Moon, Greetings Moon, Hard Moon  Ice Moon,  Moon of the Little Winter, Quiet Moon, Severe Moon, Spirt Moon & Snow Moon

Element: Air

Zodiac: Capricorn & Aquarius

Nature spirts: Brownies & Gnomes

Deities: Chang'e, Freya, Hera, Inanna & Saraswati

Animals: Coyote & fox

Birds: Blue Jay & pheasant

Trees:  Birch & Hazel

Herbs: Cones, holy thistle& marjoram

Flowers: Crocus & snowdrop

Scents: Mimosa & musk

Stones:  Chrysoprase, garnet, hematite, moonstone, onyx, jet, red tourmaline rose quartz & ruby

Issues, intentions & powers: Beginnings, healing, money, protection & strength

Energy: Breaking bad habits, creative expressiveness, energy working to the surface, forgiveness, freedom, friendships, future plans, hrowth, healing, problem solving, purification, responsibility & science

January’s full Moon came to be known as the Wolf Moon because wolves were more likely to be heard howling at this time. Though it was traditionally believed that wolves howled due to hunger during winter, we know today that isn’t accurate.

Howling & other wolf vocalizations are heard in the wintertime to locate pack members, reinforce social bonds, define territory & coordinate hunting. One study recorded spontaneous howls and responses happen most often between 11 p.m. and 6 a.m. .

  • According to the Wolf Conversation Center, gray wolves “inhabited most of the available land in the Northern Hemisphere.” Habitat destruction & persecution by humans have reduced their range by about a third worldwide & 90% in the lower 48 states.

Other celebrations:

• Hogmanay: December 31st- January 1st-

Christmas was not celebrated as a festival and virtually banned in Scotland for around 400 years. So it was, right up until the 1950s that many Scots worked over Christmas & celebrated their winter solstice holiday at New Year, when family & friends would gather for a party and to exchange presents which came to be known as hogmanays.  

Customs vary throughout Scotland & usually include gift-giving & visiting the homes of friends & neighbors. Another common Hogmanay tradition is to clean the house. Some believe that beginning the New Year with an unclean house may bring bad luck. Traditionally, this would include taking out the ashes from the coal fire. 

• Particular attention is given to the first-foot(is the first person to enter the home of a household on New Year's Day and is seen as a bringer of good fortune for the coming year bearing coal to ensure the house remains warm in the coming months  & should traditionally be a tall, dark-haired man.)

• Compitalia/ Feast of Lades: January 3-5-

Was an annual festival in honor of the Lares Compitales, household deities of the crossroads, to whom sacrifices were offered at the places where two or more ways met. Dionysius said that Servius Tullius founded the festival, which he describes as it was celebrated in his time. Dionysius relates that the sacrifices consisted of honey-cakes (Ancient Greek: πέλανοι) presented by the inhabitants of each house; & that the people who assisted as ministering servants at the festival were not free men, but slaves because the Lares took pleasure in the service of slaves. He further adds that the Compitalia were celebrated a few days after the Saturnalia with great splendor & that the slaves on this occasion had full liberty to do as they pleased.

During the celebration of the festival, each family placed the statue of the underworld goddess Mania at the door of their house. They also hung up at their doors figures of wool representing men & women, accompanying them with humble requests that the Lares & Mania would be contented with those figures, and spare the people of the house.

• Lunar New Year: January 29th-

The Lunar new year (Commonly referred as Chinese New Year) is one of the most important holidays in Chinese culture marking the end of winter & the beginning of the spring season, observances traditionally take place from New Year's Eve, the evening preceding the first day of the year to the Lantern Festival, held on the 15th day of the year. The new year starts on the new moon nearest the midpoint between the winter solstice & the spring equinox, sometime between January 21 and February 20.

• This holiday has ancient roots in China as an agricultural society. It was the occasion to celebrate the harvest & worship the gods & ask for good harvests in times to come

Each culture celebrates the Lunar New Year differently with various foods and traditions that symbolize prosperity, abundance & togetherness. In preparation for the Lunar New Year, houses are thoroughly cleaned to rid them of inauspicious spirits, which might have collected during the old year. Cleaning is also meant to open space for good will and good luck.

Some households hold rituals to offer food & paper icons to ancestors. Others post red paper and banners inscribed with calligraphy messages of good health and fortune in front of & inside, homes. Elders give out red envelopes containing money to children. Foods made from glutinous rice are commonly eaten, as these foods represent togetherness. Other foods symbolize prosperity, abundance & good luck.

The origins of the Lunar New Year festival are thousands of years old & are steeped in legends. One legend is that of Nian, a hideous beast believed to feast on human flesh on New Year's day. Because Nian feared the color red, loud noises & fire, red paper decorations were pasted to doors, lanterns were burned all night, and firecrackers were lit to frighten the beast away.

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Encyclopedia britannica

Llewellyn 2025 magical almanac Practical magic for everyday living

https://www.edinburghfestivalcity.com/festivals/edinburghs-hogmanay

[vermithorn]

* DISSOLVE

pairing: cregan stark x targaryen!reader

summary: an unexpected visitor arrives at winterfell, cregan is surprised to say the least.

contains: 18+, fingering, p in v, afab!reader, she/her pronouns, biting(?) marking(?), masturbation, asks about consent all the way becasue thats cregan ok.

author's note: i was horny in class, you cant relate to my struggle as i wrote this. my comeback and its cregan because i dream about this man and i need him carnally... also pls forgive any mistakes yall know my first language its spanish so don't be mean and leave feedback if you liked it !! pls reblog !!! !!!!!!! also totally inspired by mi amor @fairysluna fic about targ!reader x cregan yall pls read it its GOD TIER. ok bye now pls enjoy !

Winterfell was.. nice.

Your dragon, The Bronze Fury, wasn't fond of the snowy wasteland you commanded him to fly on. He grumbled as he landed near the northern capital, clouds of smoke coming out of his nostrils as he let you dismount him carefully, as much as he hated the north, he couldn't be mad at his rider.

You petted Vemithor’s snout, his red eyes intently watching you and allowing it, because after all, you were his little human. “Obey, stay here.” Vermithor roared, complaining in his own way, you just laughed and waved him off as you made your way to the castle.

*

“Warden Stark, this is a matter of great urgency…” 

Cregan stopped himself from rolling his eyes at the request of the Umber patriarch, a much older man who was filled with jealousy because Cregan was the Warden of the North and he wasn't, always mentioning it to the great council that was held once a month in the northern capital.

“My lord,” Cregan sighed, “I do not have time for this right now, you had your time for requesting when we were six hours in the council meeting earlier today.”

Lord Umber was about to speak again, smoke coming out his ears but was interrupted by the door of the Great Hall opening, a servant of the castle stepping in and announcing loudly;

“Princess Y/N Targaryen,” Cregan’s head snapped towards the doors, taking in the sight of you entering the Great Hall.

You were bundled up in heavy clothing to protect against the cold weather, wearing a thick fur-lined cloak over a long (but tight?) black dress with red accents, with the three-headed dragon sigil embroidered on your chest.

“Lord Umber, return to this conversation later,” Lord Umber's grumbles could be heard as he walked out quickly after bowing to you, leaving the two of you alone in the Great Hall.

 As you walked towards Cregan, he could feel a blush starting on his cheeks. 

“My lady.”

Cregan noticed a glint of amusement in your eyes as you spoke, it was almost a purr.

“Lord Cregan,” You raised an eyebrow, smirking, “I am not your lady, I am your princess.”

Cregan’s face turned redder, looking down for a second as if ashamed. “You are right, my princess. I have never before seen the princess of the realm and I was momentarily taken aback, forgetting your station,” He gulped, “I ask for your forgiveness, your highness.”

You chuckled, delighted. “Do not worry, my lord, we all make mistakes.” 

He looked at you in awe, he never had seen a woman as beautiful as you, especially in this land of wolves. He felt like he was being pulled towards you as if he was a moth and you were the flame, taking steps towards you.

“Nice meeting you, Warden Stark.” You could tell he was nervous, hiding his shaky hands behind his back, standing straight.

He nodded, almost a bow, “What’s the Princess of Dragonstone doing in Winterfell if I may ask? It is rare to see a noble of the south in this frozen land, even rarer the Crown’s Princess.” 

You chuckled softly, and Cregan couldn't feel more attracted to you now as he continued, “Is this an official visit? or did you just wake up with a desire to see my homeland?”

“A little of both,” Cregan raised an eyebrow at you, “I came on dragon back,”

He looks at you with a mix of awe and fear. Dragons have not been seen in the North for a long time, so the mere mention of one is enough to make him worry slightly. “Did you fly all the way here alone, princess? Or is there an entourage of guards, servants, and courtiers that I need to prepare for? I would not presume to let you see one of the great houses of the North without a proper welcoming, even if you are visiting unannounced.”

This made you giggle, and Cregan’s face kept getting warmer with each second passing. “I am alone, my lord.”

Cregan bowed, trying to hide his warm cheeks and of course, showing respect for your station and your valor for traveling alone in the frozen wastes of the North. 

He straightened his back and looked into your lilac eyes, breathing softly trying to not get lost in them, “What would you wish to do here, my princess? I could arrange a meal, or a bath to warm up from the freezing weather? Or maybe you would like to talk?”

“A bath would be nice, my lord.” You gave him a wolfish grin, looking him up and down and making him gulp at the sight.

“I will have one prepared for you immediately.” Cregan walked towards the doors, calling a servant to get your bath ready as soon as possible in the guest chambers near his own, he turned around to talk to you but found you were walking around the room, intently watching the tapestries and paintings.

He watched you do this for a few minutes until a servant came back to inform him the bath was ready in the guest chambers, he came out of his trance watching you.

“My princess, the bath is ready for you,” You turned around grinning mischievously, “Is there anything else that I can do for you now? Anything at all?”

Cregan would learn a few seconds later that his words would turn against him.

“Perhaps you could join me?”

A wave of crimson washed over Cregan’s face, and you could see how your words were making sense in his head. What were you trying on him? Was the offer even real or just teasing on your part? He watched you with his jaw slightly dropped trying to think of a proper answer for you, the temptation was certainly great… to see a princess like that, to see you all bare, he could feel himself getting harder at the thought of your naked body, but… what will others think? You came to Winterfell alone, what could happen if others find out he was in your chambers all alone? The temptation was too great to resist it.

“Is this something you truly want, your highness?” Cregan swallowed, taking another step toward you, “Or am I being an object of teasing?”

You grinned widely, taking a step to meet him halfway putting a hand on his wide chest, “My lord, you know how stunning you are?”

Cregan couldn't spit the words out, too occupied focusing on the hand on his chest.

“I am very thankful for your hospitality, my lord,” His gaze fell into your wolfish grin and intense stare, “So I am extending an invitation of my own if you want it.”

*

Cregan found himself in your chambers, mad at himself for his weak resolve against the Targaryen temptress. 

But all those feelings went away the moment you locked the door after entering the room behind him. 

The bathtub in the middle of the room was big enough for two people, that was out of the question and Cregan wondered if the servants did this on purpose. You walked towards the bed near the fireplace, taking your fur cloak off and leaving it carefully on the mattress.

“Is this room to your liking, my princess?” Cregan said, watching you subtly.

“It is,” You nodded, slowly untying your dress, “Could you help me, my lord?” You turned around, watching him over your shoulder with a playful smile. “This dress is hard to take off on my own.”

Of fucking course.

Cregan made his way over you, his rough hands carefully untying the complicated part of your dress on your back. You could feel his fingers tracing your shoulder blade, now exposed to the warm air of the room thanks to the fireplace. “I can never take this off without my lady-in-waiting’s help.” You giggled, still watching him over your shoulder.

Cregan shook his head, amused by the fact you were gonna need help to take this off in any case, thankful it was him this time. He waited for you to move first, removing his hands gently.

He took a step backward, “You may undress as you wish, my princess. It would be rude of me to stare while you are getting in and out of the tub.” You turned around to face him, your dress falling off your shoulders as he spoke, “I will keep my eyes lowered.”

Cregan’s gaze fell to the ground, his hands again behind his back, anxiously playing with his thumb.

“My lord.” You purred, “I don’t mind, you can look if you wish.”

He splutters, his gaze still glued down to the floor, shocked by your words but his traitorous eyes wander back to your figure, he gasps when he sees how your dress is no longer on your shoulders, now hanging low on your waist and your chest bare.

“M-my princess… this is not appropriate…” He exhales shakily, his eyes glued to your chest not able to look away now.

You roll your eyes, chuckling softly, “I don’t mind, my lord, I am not ashamed of my body.”

Cregan’s jaw drops, your words sending shivers to his spine, and his uniform pants getting tighter. You have the confidence of a queen and beauty to match it.

“Then allow me,” He takes a look up and down at your form as you continue to remove your garments. 

“Like what you see, pup?” 

Your words make Cregan freeze on his spot near the bathtub, his eyes roaming crazily over your body, now fully bare to him. You walk towards him, stepping slowly on the hot water until it’s reaching your thighs.

“Words cannot describe what I’m feeling, your highness.” He exhales shakily, “I am merely a northern wolf awed by a dragon’s beauty and power.”

You chuckle, sitting down on the tub, the water reaching your breasts, “You flatter me, pup.”

He looks at you stunned, you seem unbothered by the scalding hot water as you sit looking at him expectantly. He has no words to describe what’s going on inside his head, the Crown’s Princess is bathing in front of the Warden of the North as if there were no one else in the world, he's only able to stare at you in awe, his eyes shining with a glint of lust.

He stumbles on his next words, “W-what should I do now, your highness?”

“Join me.” 

He only can nod and starts to remove his clothes immediately, showing no humility or shame at being naked in front of the princess, your confident self giving him confidence.

He realizes what he's about to do, “You’re not offended by my nakedness?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, amused, “Why would I be offended? You’re beautiful.”

Men are rarely complimented by their beauty, something Cregan doesn't experience as much, and you can tell this by the way his face lits up and blushes hard, turning away from your amused gaze and feeling slightly bashful.

He takes a deep breath and steps into the bathtub, the water is almost too hot for his liking but he seats behind you without any complaints. He is facing your back and he has to stop himself from reaching out and touching you.

“Shall I wash you, my princess? Or shall I merely enjoy the view?” The moments those words left his mouth his face was plagued by a crimson blush, not believing that he could mutter that out loud.

He heard you chuckle, turning your head to the side but not all the way so he could appreciate your side profile as you spoke, “Whatever you want,” 

He scooted closer to you, keeping all his lower body and his not-that-hard (a lie) cock away from your ass. Still half in disbelief, the princess herself telling him to do whatever he wanted? He was an ambitious man, but started on the base of his wants, not wanting to scare you off. He reach out and ran his hands through your white hair, slowly washing it and once in a while touching your neck.

Your skin felt impossibly soft in his rough palms, and your scent was enough to send him far far away. He felt his heart racing, threatening with escaping his rib cage, he couldn’t believe you were there in front of him, a Targaryen princess, naked and inviting.

As he softly caresses your neck, you throw your head back enjoying the feeling of him touching your skin. His hands softly untangle your wet hair, and it surprises him when you let out a low moan when he accidentally pulled your hair.

“Oh,” Cregan could feel the heat rising to his face, and of course, his cock twitching.

Being this close to you was making him lose all his composure, but he did his best as his hands traveled to your shoulders from your hair, massaging them gently as you nudged back, encouraging him to continue.

“Shall… shall I move further down, my princess?” 

He could physically feel your laugh against his hands, sending shivers down his spine. 

“Yes.”

His hands moved along your shoulders, past your neck, and down to your upper back softly touching and caressing the path downwards your back. He can hear you sigh quietly, his hands coming back to your shoulder blades and slowly moving to your sides, just below your arms, both of his index fingers just barely brushing your breasts.

He stops, his hands still. “May I, your highness? I would never want to do something without your consent.”

You turn your head over your shoulder, watching him from the corner of your eye. “Go on, pup.”

His hands reach your chest, and he scoots closer, his (now) hard cock a few inches away from your ass. He warily cups your breasts, squeezing them gently as his fingers pinch your nipples, making them pebble.

You let out a whimper, shivering at the touch of his rough and big hands on your tits.

“Does this... please you, your highness? My hands on your perfect skin?” He cannot stop himself now, words spilling out his mouth as they didn’t before, his hands wandering around and playing with your chest.

“Yes, you’re doing such a good job, pup.” He blushes deeply but doesn't stop.

He’s still in disbelief, not entirely believing the situation happening in front of his eyes. The princess of Dragonstone telling him how good he's being for her? It is too much to comprehend, you’re so above him in any situation, but there you are, praising and wanting him to touch you.

“You want me to continue, my princess?” 

You nod, “Go further,”

His heart starts to pound harder in his chest, like a war drum, but he continues to do as you say. One hand stays playing with your breast, stroking your nipple, and the other travels downwards through your belly.

“Like this?” He whispers in your ear, and you can feel his hot breath on the back of your neck.

You surprise him again by scooting back, your ass against his hardened length, he gasps, the plump of your ass touching his cock making him lose his vision for a second, not expecting it at all.

“Just like that,” Your words send chills down his spine, is he really about to do this with a princess? Is he really worthy of that? He swallows deeply, his mouth now dry, but his mind is made up. He wants you, and if you’re allowing him to do this, he won't complain at all.

“As you wish, my princess. How far would you like me to continue?” 

“As far as you wish, pup.”

Your words leave him breathless, but he obliges. 

Cregan’s hand on your belly travels further down, carefully to not overstep your boundaries but decided to resume his wandering on your body as his cock presses against your ass. His eyes are glued to the back of your neck, his touch is hesitant at first but your permission makes him feel bold, so he presses his one hand down further and the other squeezes your breast.

“Go on, pup,” You whisper, leaning your head back and resting it on his shoulder as his mouth grazes your neck towards your throat, breathing heavily, “You know what to do.”

He chuckles, but it comes out as a shaky breath. He knows exactly what to do.

His fingers slowly make their way down to your cunt, two digits slowly reaching your clit hovering over it, and moving down to your folds, feeling how you shiver.

You exhale shakily, leaning even more against his body, “Please.”

Cregan’s resolve breaks, blushing as he continues his ministrations, teasing your clit with his palm and fingers grazing your folds, rubbing them. 

He’s so immersed in his teasing he doesn't notice when your soft hand grabs his, pushing it down towards your pussy hard. “I don’t like being teased, do your work.”

Your words drive him into a frenzy, immediately obeying and pushing two fingers into your cunt, hearing you moan. His hand on your breast leaves to support what the other one is doing, moving his fingers in a circular motion on your clit as the other fingers you.

You throw your head back into his shoulder harshly, groaning. “Don’t stop, pup.”

Cregan grinds himself against your ass as he thrusts into you, fingers deep into your pussy. Your breath starts to get labored and your shoulders begin to shake, he starts going faster, more vigorously as he hears your little whimpers with his name mixed into your chants.

“You’re doing so good for me, pup,” He grins proudly, his cock twitching at the breathy praise that falls from your lips, grinding harder against your ass.

Cregan makes you reach your peak after he pinches your clit and his long rough fingers thrust into you, shaking slightly as he holds you in place.

He’s still rock hard against your ass, and after a few moments to come back to yourself, you turn around to face him, your tits against his chest as you straddle his lap, not caring at all how the water splashes outside the tub.

Cregan’s cock is a sight, long and with a thickness it makes your mouth water. He watches you as you move around him until you grab his shaft making his dick brush your folds as you accommodate, the tip teasing on your hole.

“I want you, do you want me?”

He thinks that’s the dumbest question he's ever heard in his twenty-one years of life.

“Hell yes, my princess.”

You give him a wolfish grin as you sink into his length mercilessly in one go, your tight hole wrapping his cock in a warm embrace he can only answer by groaning loudly, his hands flying to your hips to help you steady yourself.

“You’re so tight, seven hells… my goddess, you’re so beautiful.” Your mouth parted at the sensation of his cock splitting you in two, combined with his praise, it’s enough encouragement to start riding him, water splashing everywhere.

His voice starts coming out as incoherences, between praises and swearing on how tight you are, and how your cunt was made for him, his mouth latching at your breast biting it and marking the sides when he can no longer say coherent words. You ride him hard and roughly, so it’s not a surprise when he spills inside your pussy and you follow him behind quickly with a second orgasm when he moves his hand down to rub your clit.

He hugs you as you both breathe heavily, trying to compose yourselves.

Your hand reaches his face, cupping his cheek as he looks into your lilac eyes like a puppy.

“You did so well, you’re not getting rid of me now.”

He beams at the praise, hugging you tightly, pressing your body against his with him still inside you, getting softer. “It is my pleasure to please you, my princess.”

vermithorn © do not copy, repost or translate my works

[syndrossi]

Now I REALLY WANT something where Ser Thoren DOES rescue the boys and reunites them with Daemon earlier, largely because I want to see what happens when the Volentenes attempt to kidnap them while they're with their father.

Oooh, that WOULD be spicy, wouldn't it? I imagine the way it plays out initially is:

Ser Thoren brings them back up north to catch a ship to King's Landing.

Allard dispatches his men in search/pursuit of them.

After a week of failed searching (Crayne convinces Allard to keep it on the down low), Allard finally informs Rhea via raven that the boys are missing. She reaches out to Rhaenyra to have a raven sent to Daemon in the Stepstones and sends out ravens throughout the Vale to be on the lookout for the boys. Ser Thoren and the twins set sail from the Fingers.

Rhea rides south to Gulltown chasing a rumor about the boys, accident (or is it?) occurs just before Daemon arrives in Runestone for answers. Ser Thoren and the twins arrive at Dragonstone, as he wants the matter somewhat discreetly handled. Rhaenyra is here, just as in canon, and sends a raven to Runestone.

Daemon confronts Rhea, forces the confession, and this time the raven that reaches him isn't of the boys' kidnapping, but Rhaenyra's that the boys are safe in Dragonstone, which he immediately sets out for.

The big meet happens there, and Daemon and Rhaenyra fly the twins to King's Landing. There is much fanfare, but none of the urgency of Resonant, because the boys were never truly kidnapped. Viserys is pleased that Daemon's a father, but there's no "hand in the hearth" debriefing, so he has no reason to believe the boys are prophecy children. There is no 24/7 knight rotation, and boys are far less traumatized (though Rhaegar is still mourning Rhaella and Rhea) and Jon's not hurt.

Probably a few weeks pass without incident. The boys settle in, Daemon escorts them around the Dragonpit, though without success. (To Rhaegar's utter heartbreak.)

Daemon has no catalyst to set him after Volantis, so he's trying to figure out what to do now that he's a single dad. He also feels fairly safe taking them out into the city.

Meanwhile, the Volantenes + Jephyro are already aware of the new circumstances and have sailed into King's Landing to set up an attempt there...

Here's part one of an innocent outing in the city that may be about to turn into something quite a lot more dangerous...

x~x~x

"What about this one?" Daemon pointed at the clasp that had caught his eye—and clearly Rhaegar's—against the dark velvet that held the jeweler's various works: silver shaped into a dragon curled around a deep red garnet. "Do you have another?"

"Another, my prince?" the man repeated, before comprehension dawned. He looked between Daemon's two sons. "I could fashion a twin to it easily enough."

Daemon stole a glance at Jon to gauge his interest. His other son had proven himself to be less enthused about the finery afforded him in his new station. Allard Royce and whatever passed for clothing in the Vale were partly to blame for that, he presumed.

Jon's gaze was on a different piece, however, that of a silver wolf's head with eyes of smoothly-polished sapphire. It had no relation at all to their own house, better suited to the houses of the southern Crownlands and northern Stormlands who bore wolves upon their crest. But the longing in his face was clear, along with an undercurrent of sorrow.

He does not know to ask, Daemon thought with a familiar simmering anger at the reminder that his sons had spent their childhood being denied all that they were due.

It would not have been his choice, but boys formed all sorts of fascinations, and although wolves were no dragons, they were worthy enough in their own way. "Would you like that one, Jon?" he asked, reaching for the clasp.

He was immediately met with a grey-eyed stare so filled with uncertainty that his own heart ached. "It is a beautiful piece," Daemon said.

"I—" Jon swallowed, gaze returning to the clasp, then flicking up at the jeweler. "Could you change the eyes?"

The jeweler, sensing a sale, smiled encouragingly. "Easily enough. What suits your fancy, young prince? I have some emerald stones that could be fitted."

"What about the red stone in the dragon clasp? Do you have more of it?"

"The garnet? I do. I also have ruby, should that be more to your preference." The jeweler disappeared into his work room, emerging after a moment with a small cloth of both garnet and ruby gems, some rough and others worked, that he laid out on the table.

Jon looked between them. He seemed drawn at first to the ruby, touching a finger to it, but his mouth firmed with decision as he pulled back. "The garnet." He glanced at his brother. "So that we match."

"I shall have the modifications completed by tomorrow," the man said with a bow, before turning his gaze back to Daemon. "Is there anything else that you seek, my prince?"

"I have been told you have experience working with dragon scales."

The jeweler's expression brightened, this time with interest. "I do. I have done work for Princess Rhaenyra, and even Queen Alysanne herself, many years back."

His sons watched him with nearly identical expressions of curiosity as Daemon withdrew a thick red scale from his pouch, partly split by a glancing blow from one of the Triarchy's small ballistae that they lugged onto the shores of the Stepstones in hopes of a lucky shot before their inevitable destruction by dragonflame.

"What can you make of this?"

The jeweler took the scale from him with a hushed reverence, examining it from various angles. "I can shape it into smaller pieces and fashion a fetching pendant. Several, even. A gold setting would be striking, or--" He glanced at their silver-and-garnet selections. "Or silver, if that is more to your liking. If my prince cares to return in half an hour, I can make some sketches for your review for the pendant itself."

"Can you design one of a dragon's head?" Rhaegar asked. His look at Daemon held an uncertainty not unlike Jon's earlier. "We could have one apiece."

"The three heads of the dragon?" Daemon kissed the two heads within reach. "That feels fitting to me."

"I shall focus my efforts on dragon designs, then," the jeweler said with another bow, and Daemon could not tell if his enthusiasm was from the opportunity to work with such a rare material, or the growing purse he anticipated receiving.

Even if Viserys weren't cheered enough by his return and meeting his sons to see it paid directly from the royal treasury, Daemon had spent very little of his own allowance these past few years. There were scant opportunities in the wastes of the Stepstones.

It was getting past midday, long enough since breakfast for hunger to make itself known in the growling stomachs of growing boys. The taverns at the base of Aegon’s Hill catered to visiting nobles and rich merchants of the area, their fare a good deal finer than would be found just a few roads further south, near the harbor.

A royal visitor was not uncommon in these parts, though it still afforded them a quiet table away from the small pocket of knights well on their way to a drunken stupor not even halfway through the day. He would have numbered among them once, Daemon mused. Not the knight part, of course. But he had drunk his way through most of the taverns in the city in his youth, often dragging Viserys along. His brother had been a more exuberant drunk then, prone to wild capers he would not otherwise consider when sober.

I wonder if he might consider stealing away some night. Even a king could wear a cloak, and if any tavernkeep were to notice, he would wisely pretend otherwise. It would do him good to remember life outside those walls.

And it would scandalize Otto Hightower, which was reason enough in itself.

Daemon turned his attention back to the twins, both of whom seemed comfortable enough in the tavern, though he imagined they would not have seen one growing up isolated in the Gates of the Moon. “I take it Ser Thoren brought you to a few inns along the way,” he said.

“Only a few,” Jon said. “On the road north through the Vale.”

A carafe of wine was brought to the table, along with bread fresh enough from the oven to be steaming. Slices of cold meat and cheese were brought out soon after. Daemon limited himself to a single cup, and let each of his sons try a sip, taking in their mutual nose crinkles at the taste with fond amusement that turned faintly bittersweet. There were many expressions he had still to learn, to discover which emphasized their similarities and which their differences.

Each delighted him, though he had a special fondness for when they mirrored one another. It spoke to an extra bond between them that comforted him somehow.

A special treat of warm, gooey raspberries served in a bowl with a generous heaping of cold cream atop it had been sent to their table, and both his sons had eagerly devoured theirs before turning faintly envious eyes to Daemon’s own half-eaten portion.

“Is there anything else you would like to see before we return to the jeweler, and then the keep?” he asked once they had finished off his dessert.

[confusedblakex]

A burning hatred (Pt1)

Pairing: Takashi 'Shiro' Shirogane X (Male) Reader

Summary: Where most Galra find entertainment, you find nothing but disgust. Shiro arrived at Zarkon's arena one fateful day, perhaps he was just what you were looking for.

Wordcount: 1722

Warnings: TW - Very descriptive violence, Imprisonment, Death, Blood, Asphyxiation, Sacrifice

Requested by: I refuse to let this fandom die

Notes: Star Trek and Voltron feel quite similar now that I think about it; No romance yet; Galra commander reader

Last edited: 16th November 2024

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

There had been a new intake of prisoners.

As was expected of you, you took your seat with the rest of the Galra commanders. The sea of cheering people was overwhelming. Myzax was in the ring again.

The arena was not entertaining to you. There was no fight here, this was a public execution. The gladiators were Salixan wolves playing with their prey before going in for the kill. Disgusting.

Prisoners deemed fit enough to fight were bought here. Luckily, most of the new intake had arrived injured and were declared unfit to fight. You thanked the universe for even the smallest of mercies.

Behind the gates, there were a dozen different creatures of varying species. An Earthling stood at the front of the line, quivering and dressed in an oversized prisoner’s tunic. He was short, scrawny and - by the fear in his eyes - didn’t have the strength to fight.

Perhaps, you thought, by some miracle, this boy would somehow manage to scrape by with only a severe injury. Perhaps you could leave, tell your fellow commanders that the prisoners are too weak for a proper fight and it bores you. That way, you might not have to watch.

A sentry walked down to the gate, rifle pointed squarely at the Earthling boy. In a flash, another Earthling appeared, pulling the rifle from the sentry’s grip and pushing the droid into the wall. It sparked and slumped over, showing the Earthling’s strength.

You watched intently as the audience roared.

The man was tall, broad-shouldered and muscular enough to put up a fight. His back was turned to you, but his body language showed no hint of fear. With the bayonet he held, the man turned to his fellow prisoners and took a slash at the weak one.

Over the cheering and yelling of the area’s audience, you couldn’t hear a word of what he yelled, but another sentry arrived and forcefully took the Earthling by his arm. You averted your eyes momentarily as the gates opened.

There was clearly some relation between the Earthlings, and in a bid to save the boy who couldn’t fight, this man had put himself first in line to face Myzax. It was smart, you had to admit, but watching someone sacrifice themself somehow made it worse than just watching them die.

Myzax roared and the spectators cheered as the Earthling was handed a Galran sword. And the fight began at once.

The large gladiator let the energy orb on the end of his bat charge for a moment before hurling the orb at the Earthling. Barely dodging, the man tripped himself over to get away. Unrelenting, Myzax threw the orb again. In a desperate attempt to dodge, the man rolled over and jumped at the Galra, landing a shallow cut on his arm before retreating from the orb once more.

And the game of Salixan wolf and rodent began.

For a while, the Earthling only dodged, ducking behind the pillars of the arena, seemingly formulating something. The energy orb was thrown again, this time the man used his sword's flat edge as a shield. He was knocked back significantly, but didn’t fall. Once again, Myzax threw the orb. The man knelt down, raising his sword to cover himself as the impact pushed him into the dusty floor.

Myzax raised his bat, the orb flying back to recharge. As the mechanical wiring hummed deep under the loud yelling of the Galran audience, the Earthling lunged to take a swing at the gladiator. A large gash cut across the gladiator’s shoulder, slicing through his neck.

The Galra wobbled on his feet, purple-red blood spilling down his chest. Weakly, Myzax lifted the orb on its plinth and hurled it at where the Earthling had drawn back to.

Panicked upon seeing the energy orb once more, the man rolled away from the incoming projectile. One hit on the ground. The gladiator swung his arm around as much as his injury would allow, the orb flying back over to the Earthling. Narrowly dodged again, he was taking advantage of Myzax’s weakened state. Twice now, and the orb drew back for the final attack. The man raised his sword again.

A third hit. The metal sword shattered, and the orb flew back to Myzax. Before the hum of the recharge could even start, the Earthling jumped and plunged the blunted half of the snapped sword through the gladiator’s chest. With a loud roar, Myzax fell to his knees. The undefeated, killed by an Earthling - of all species.

The spectators cheered more, louder still, and the man standing in the centre of the arena let out a scream of victory. He played to the crowd well.

Without thinking for a moment more, you slammed your fist into the arm of your chair and rose.

“Who’s is he?” your voice sounded over everyone, quiet falling throughout the room.

You stood in silence for a moment, looking across the Galra commanders.

“The Earthling would be mine,” a commander a few rows down announced as he stood.

“I want him. Name your price,” you stated, voice loud and confident. If you could get a hold of this Earthling, you might just be able to do a little good in this universe.

“4000 GAC,” the commander you didn’t know requested.

“Done.” you said, definitively.

“I offer 5000!” A voice called a few chairs to your right. Commander Sendak.

“This is no auction,” you chastised.

“I will not stand down!” he called, turning towards to owner of the Earthling.

“Sendak! You and I both know that I can outbid you.” you reminded him, keeping yout voice level and confident. As a decorated warrior from a long line of commanders, you had the power of currency on your side.

Sandak huffed and stopped for a moment before turning to look up at the Emperor.

“Permission to exercise my Galra rights, my Emperor?” he asked, bowing slightly.

You lowered your head in respect and looked back up to see Zarkon nod.

“I challenge you to a Sar duel for ownership of the Earthling fighter!” Sendak called, as soon as he received Zarkon’s permission.

“Come now, we are in an arena, and the people want a fight,” he taunted as he saw the torn expression on your face.

“I accept.” you said, determined. You may not want to fight, but you couldn’t risk leaving the Earthling with anyone else.

“What are your terms?” the unknown commander asked.

“If I win, I get the Earthling and Commander Sendak shall be sent off to the Javeeno Star System with no crew, for reconnaissance and surveillance.” you called, the crowd surrounding you applauded your decision, “And you?”

“If I win, I take the prisoner. And you, Commander (l/n), will be stripped of rank and sent to Noxxal to die a dishonourable death!” Sendak shouted.

The room went quiet with murmurs. Noxxal… you would die from starvation, if the cold didn’t get to you first. A dishonourable death, to not be killed in battle.

“And the loser pays 5000 GAC for the victor?” you clarified, looking to the Earthling’s finder.

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.”

“The terms are set. Let us begin,” you announced. Both Sendak and you descended to the arena floor.

“Hold the Earthling!” Sendak commanded, and two sentries stood at either side of the man, leading him back out through the arena gate.

Sendak took gauntlets, his weapon of choice. They were great meatal things that pulsed with Galran energy. This was the only advantage he had over you.

You chose to take a battleaxe. Versatile and deadly, you knew them well.

“Vrepit sa.”

“Vrepit sa…”

You immediately took first swing at Sendak, purposefully overshooting and missing him. The swing went past his ear, and took him off guard, leading him to turn in an attempt to throw a punch at your gut. In his moment of pivot, you took the haft of your axe directly to his face.

He stumbled backwards, nose dripping with blood. You swung again, leaving him no time for recovery, a jab at his chest that he narrowly avoided. And again, quickly, but he had recovered in time and grabbed your axe’s blade with his gauntlets.

He threw your axe to his side, and you barely kept your grip. This was how the fight continued. You would hit a blow, he would recover, and Sendak would send you backwards.

A slash to his knee, a hit to your stomach, a jab that very nearly took his ear off, a punch square to your nose - revenge for that first hit you got on him. Finally, after 10 minutes of equally balanced fighting, you decided to play dirty. This Earthling was worth the life of the idiot known as Sendak.

You backed up slowly, reaching a pillar, then swung and lodged your axe at an angle in the stone. You threw yourself at Sendak, going for the gauntlets. You sent a jab at his neck, causing him to lose his breath enough for you to kick with all your might at his left gauntlet. With a crackle of power, the purple glow dissipated and the glove stopped responding.

Sendak growled at you and shook the gauntlet off his hand, immediately lunging at you. You dodged, but not enough, as he grabbed you by the arm, spun you, and hooked his arm around your neck. Gauntlet to your throat, he held you there, spluttering for a breath that wouldn’t come. Your body burned with adrenaline and you stomped at his feet under you, kicking back at his shins.

Sendak walked backwards slowly to avoid your kicks until his back was pressed up against a pillar. Perfect.

With the last of your oxygenated strength, you reached out for the axe that was lodged in the stone. In one quick pull, the axe swung at Sendak’s arm and your face. At the last moment, you shifted your head to the side, lodging the axe entirely through Sendak’s arm.

His grip fell limp, and you took a great inhale of air.

The crowd roared in cheer, and Sendak made a barely audible noise - like a whimper - that only you could hear.

“Consider that payment for challenging me.” You spoke lowly in his ear, before turning to leave.

Where was that Earthling?

[fandoms--fluff]

Hey could you write for hope as an older sisterly figure to reader please?

Fairy Garden

Flufftober, October 20th

Kid female witch reader x sister figure Hope Mikaelson

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you were taken to the school by Dr. Saltzman, the first person your eyes landed on was an older girl. She seems to be around 16 or 17. So a good chunk older than yourself being only 11.

You hadn't interacted with anyone during your first week, only watching the older pretty girl when she was around. You somehow felt safe around her even though you hadn't even known her name.

Though, one day she caught onto someone watching her and pinned it down to the new younger girl. She thought it was cute how you always were watching her when she was near, beside thinking it was a bit creepy at first. But she started to watch her as well, noticing how you haven't talked to anyone else. You seemed shy, and that's what drew her to go up to you in the middle of your third week at the school.

Since then, she's learned all about your past and how you don't really have anyone to talk to anymore, most of your family isn't around anymore and the ones who are alive have no idea about your witch identity.

She's also always been there for you over the past year. She introduced you to her friends, Lizzie and Josie, which to you it seems her and Lizzie are more like frenemies.

"Where have you been? I haven't seen you all day" Hope sits next to you in the dining hall. You look up from your soup, "I was in the forest, reading" You tell her before bringing another spoonful of soup to your mouth.

"All day? How did you not get bored?" She chuckles, knowing you usually don't have a long attention span.

"I didn't want to be around people" You answered. "That's how you make friends though." She raises an eyebrow humorously.

"Well, most of the people here are weirdos" You whisper, making her chuckle again. "Yeah, we're all weirdos if you think about it enough" She says, making you laugh. "I also like sitting around all the flowers, it's peaceful out there. Well, except when the wolves are there" You tilt your head.

"Maybe you can show me where it is and show me how beautiful it really is" She rubs a hand on your smaller back. "Yeah, let's go! You're gonna love it" You bound up from the bench and table in excitement. You love it when you and Hope spend time together, it's always fun and even when you two are laughing diabolically or she's forcing you to do class work, it's always great and calming to have someone to rely on in the newer atmosphere.

"Ah ah, after you eat" she gently pushes you back down onto the bench. "Fine, Mom" you sass her before slurping down the rest of your soup quickly. She rolls her eyes playfully. She swear , one day you're gonna choke if you keep that up, she thinks but doesn't say anything out loud to have more sass spilling out of you.

It's weird, she's always wanted to have someone closer in age in her family since she was little and it was just her and her Mom. She's always thought of how cool it would be to have a little sister all while growing up, and now she thinks she's finally got one.

Now you may not be related by blood but she would care for and protect you as if you were. She's basically brought you in and treats you and calls you (in her head) her baby sister.

You swallow the rest of the soup from the bowl before placing it abck down onto the wooden tray. "Can we go now?" You ask her. "One second" She picks up your napkin and wipes it around your mouth, cleaning all the soup that dripped there.

You slap her hand away. "Okay, I get it, I get it. I'm not a baby" You tell her, embarrassed. She smirks before putting the napkin on the tray as well. "Well, we don't have all day, the sun is about to set, so why don't we go out there, huh?" She asks.

"Yes!" You jumped up off the bench and ran to the tray return table and dropped off your tray before running back over to Hope who stood up while you went off.

"Let's go" You grasp onto her hand and practically drag her out the doors and down to the forest. Hope just goes along, knowing you're buzzing with energy. How you have all of it? She has no idea, but it makes her happy you're not just bottling it all in and keeping to yourself anymore.

You lead her through the forest carefully, not wanting to smack into any branches or trip over any roots. "Almost there....And here we are" You let go of Hope's hand to present the clearing you had found to her.

There's beautiful colourful flowers litteres around with vines dangling from huge trees as well as healthy, deep green grass that's perfect for sitting on. "Wow, this really is beautiful and peaceful" She takes it all in before turning back over to where your sitting on a low tree branch.

You must of climbed onto it while she wasn't looking. "How'd you find this place? It's amazing" She walks over to you and leans against the branch next to your legs.

"I followed a bunny who was hopping and ended up here. I found it a couple weeks ago. I call it my fairy garden because it looks like a place where tinker bell and all the other fairies would live" You tell her animatedly, your eyes lighting up in a way she's never seen in the almost year she's known you.

"You're really happy here, huh?" She asks you softly. "I am. And now you can be happy here too" You swing your legs back and forth and smile at her.

"Yeah." She gently says before going back to taking in the scenery along with you.

[fistfightinganxietyandlosing]

I desperately crave Apollo depictions that give him mouse or wolflike features. Why?

Well, Apollo was actually sometimes referred to as Apollo Smintheus which means mouse-god(although in the words of Edith Hamilton's Gods and Heroes - whether this was because he protected mice or killed them no one really knows).

As for the wolf bit, one of Apollo's other names is Lycegenes meaning wolf-born or born-from-Lycia and in the Illiad, Apollo is given the epithet "the Lycian" which means the wolf-god or related-to-Lycia. Additionally, Lycia itself is often called wolf-land; it's said(in some versions of his birth) that Apollo's mother, Leto, was led there by wolves - and it's far from her only association with them. In other variations of the twins' delivery, Leto turns into a she-wolf and goes into labor in this form. However, it's important to note that not all of Apollo's connections with wolves are pleasant ones. He is also known as Lycoctonus(slayer/killer of wolves) due to his nature as a protector of flocks!

All this to say, I think that Apollo's association with mice and wolves are just really cool aspects of his character that are hardly ever talked about :D

[divorceblogger]

started thinking about this quote in interview with the vampire which first floats the idea about notions of nobility and class relations also infecting vampire social relations when it discusses revenants and the repulsion they evoke amongst members of the parisian coven. claudia, who is raised by aristocratic fathers, calls them monsters, also separating them out as a species apart from themselves:

it also has a lot of implications for the conversations being had in the vampire lestat that I’ll put under a cut.

In the vampire lestat, the first chapter opens with lestat explaining how hunting is a privilege reserved for lords, and explains that his duty as an aristocrat is to kill the wolves harassing the villagers under his father’s feudal rule in order to protect them and prevent their livestock (sheep, specifically, are named) from being stolen:

which allows us to segue into a conversation where soon after his turning - after accepting his title as magnus’s heir - lestat asserts that paris is his kingdom:

and going back to the previous excerpts, livestock can now easily translate to humans in the context of lestat’s vampiric transformation.

further, the children of darkness are described as “weak things” who possess “thin limbs” and are “barely swathed in rags”. There’s also a quote that says - “they were staring at the buckles on our shoes, at our hair, and at our faces, with such distress they appeared menacing and hungry.” lestat cuts them with his jewelled sword from horseback and tramples them when they attack him. in essence, the children of darkness are being equated with peasants and commoners.

the protection of lestat’s landed interests and his livestock is also described as being threatened by the impoverished vampires who’re also then compared to wolves who seek to keep him from enjoying the benefits and privileges of his position. and now the term monsters is also floated again, in the same context of highlighting class divides by othering members of the same species:

so the children of darkness end up being treated like monstrous outsiders despite having spent centuries living and hunting in these very grounds because of a usurping lord. of course they’re very understandably upset about gabrielle and lestat flouting their rules and trampling all over the laws that dictate their way of life, however flawed they are.

Edit: coming back to add this quote because it does confirm my theory that the children of darkness were purposely coded to resemble the lower classes -

[maverick-werewolf]

Werewolf Fact #75 - Cynocephali (dog-headed men)

This month's folklore fact is a long-awaited one from over on the Patreon: the cynocephali or "dog-headed men."

Some depictions of cynocephali (the one above is from the Nuremberg Chronicle, 1493) are mistaken for werewolves fairly frequently; there are several differences of note, including but not limited to the fact that they are otherwise very, very human (normal hands and feet, no tail, etc) and that their ears are not always shaped like a wolf's/pointing directly upright. They often are, however, so don't take the ear shape as a surefire thing, either. When in doubt, make sure the depiction is actually meant to be showing a werewolf before using it for, I don't know, a royalty-free image in your werewolf publication (I've seen several). The cynocephali do not shapeshift, nor are they associated with wolves. They have nothing to do with werewolves. Yes, it was just a plot to make you click this link and read about cynocephali.

Cynocephali, or singular cynocephalus, is a term derived from the original Greek word "kynokephaloi," meaning "dog-headed." They have other names as well, which mean a range of things such as "dog-faced" and "half-dog." They were mentioned in assorted accounts and tales of travelers in Africa and India, appearing in sources as old as ancient Greece, and some similar beings can be found in other cultures, such as China. Likewise, depictions of and discussions of such beings continue into the Middle Ages. This same term was later used to refer to baboons, to which no-fun modern day scholars now attribute all cynocephali legends (although we do have at least one Ottoman depiction of a cynocephalus battling a monkey).

There are many quotes across various sources and time periods about these beings, including but not limited to this one from the fifth century BC Greek historian Herodotus, Histories 4. 191. 3 (trans. Godley) [source: Theoi]

"For the eastern region of Libya, which the Nomads inhabit, is low-lying and sandy as far as the Triton river; but the land west of this, where the farmers live, is exceedingly mountainous and wooded and full of wild beasts. In that country are the huge snakes and the lions, and the elephants and bears and asps, the horned asses, the Kunokephaloi (Cynocephali) (Dog-Headed) and the Headless Men that have their eyes in their chests, as the Libyans say, and the wild men and women, besides many other creatures not fabulous."

Some stories of the cynocephali are also frightfully specific as to how they live, rear livestock, grow fruit, weave baskets, wage war, and much more, even including details of their society, clothing, how long they live, etc. It's all quite interesting. If you'd like to read more specific quotations, you can find many on one of my favorite websites, Theoi.

Sources seem to dispute one another as to whether they bark, do not bark but only howl, only shriek, or whatever other sounds they may make, and there is also a range of descriptions including elements such as if they have beards and whether hair covers their bodies as well as the dog-head. Overall, probably the majority of sources say they wear the skins of animals as opposed to having fur, but there are those that also call them hairy all over.

Please note that I will not be covering/discussing any gods from ancient Egypt in this post, because despite what some modern day scholars like to discuss, I don't consider them "cynocephali." They were wolf-headed deities, not dog-headed (or even jackal-headed), and are overall only related to cynocephali legends by proxy and by modern scholars always putting everything into blasted categories for their next thesis. There were some dog-headed deities in ancient Egypt, and Anubis, Wepwawet, Duamutef, etc, were not among them, and even then, we can't really assert that the dog-headed deities among the ancient Egyptians are actually related to other legends and records of cynocephali.

With that out of the way, let's continue...

One of my personal favorite stories involving a dog-headed man is a version of the tale of Saint Christopher, though these depictions and this tale are not seen as canon by churches and has been proscribed in Eastern Orthodoxy (where such depictions were generally most common). Some of these depictions still survive, however. Some sources believe that Byzantine depictions of a dog-headed Christopher come from mistaking "Cananeus" (meaning "Canaanite") for "caninus," i.e. canine.

In the story about a dog-headed Saint Christopher, there lives Reprebrus (among other variations of his name; ultimately, they all essentially mean "reprobate"), who is captured by Romans in battle and made to serve among them. Reprebrus was said to be of "enormous size," with the head of a dog, said to be typical of his kind. He was later baptized and martyred. However, in another version (this one from Germany), Saint Christopher is depicted as a giant cynocephalus who ate human flesh and performed many atrocities. He meets the Christ child later and carries him across a river, as in tradition (the name Christopher means "bearer of Christ") and repents for his sinful behavior. He is baptized and becomes human, dedicating himself to serving Christianity and became a soldier saint.

There are far more fascinating details in the story than I relayed here in extreme simplicity, but that's a very simple view (the story is actually very specific about different regions and even the unit in which he served).

Other depictions of cynocephali exist in certain Christian traditions, with Ahrakas and Augani sometimes being depicted with dog heads in Coptic Christian tradition, in the life and legend of Saint Mercurius.

Bestiaries also got pretty wild with the creatures depicted therein, many of which were also mentioned in classical sources (such as the Herodotus quote earlier in this post). The image above is from between 1357 and 1371, in a work called The Voyage and Travels of Sir John Mandeville, or simply Mandeville's Travels, the memoirs of a man who traveled across the Middle East, India, and even as far as China. Medieval bestiaries also recorded all the same creatures shown here: a monopod or sciapod, a cyclops, a blemmy, and a cynocephalus, each different civilizations of beings said to dwell across the world (and often cited in multiple sources over considerable spans of time, which generally cite the same or similar regions for each civilization, which I've always found very interesting).

Mentions of the cynocephali span across centuries, such as in works by scribe Paul the Deacon, a Benedictine monk, and they are even mentioned in the Nowell Codex, a surviving Old English work containing Beowulf (as well as a work of the life of Saint Christopher and Wonders of the East, among others). They are also acknowledged in the works of multiple noteworthy explorers, including but not limited to Marco Polo, Christopher Columbus, Giovanni da Pian del Carpine, Ibn Battuta, and Piri Reis.

With that, I think that's a decent overview! Hope you enjoyed the post.

And stay tuned for news and updates on a major [werewolf/fantasy/adventure/horror/epic] book release later this year!

If you like my blog, be sure to follow me here and elsewhere for much more folklore and fiction, including books, especially on werewolves! You can also sign up for my free newsletter for monthly werewolf/vampire/folklore facts, a free story, book previews, and my other sundry projects and works, such as plushes.

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[ntls-24722]

"what if i turned my mutuals' sonas into bolur creatures"

so i did turn my mutuals' sonas into bolur creatures. and.... im sorry in advance.

@wakebymoonsleepbysun

The creature the most related to the homo mousike: the waeki, the zebraelf equivalent to an old world monkey, and looking quite the part. Sorry, I King Julien'd you, it was the only way. The digits on the hand aren't as flexible as they are in zebraelves and the limbs are more evenly spaced - no hexapodality, but very stable chameleon-like walking across trees and land coral. The waeki is one of the oldest members of their order, the trendsetters of velvet worm-style Goop Shooters and the flexible shoulders and wrists. The mane, though, is a waeki special.

@artastic-friend

Portmanteau of March and babirusa, inspired by how that horn grows! Instead of horns, instead of antlers, that head protrusion are two teeth that grew up and out of the top of the mouth into a giant, 2-pronged tusk instead of a normal tooth. Because, yknow, who wants a regular old tooth like that? Everyone's done that already. The hooves make them a part of the same order as Debu, though the mountain cows are a bit more removed. Instead of just a long pupil, the whole eye is long, too.

@thebookowal

Sorry, it gets weird from here on out. The task was making a skeleton be a fully fledged critter, and the normal route I would've gone was making your sona into a bug since bugs have external skeletons. But for some reason, I could not tell you why, I had the compulsion to make you be able to roll up or compact yourself. To do it horizontally though, bah, armadillos, isopods, millipedes, they already do that. I wanted vertical compaction.

So, those are not ribs sicking out the sides - those are the claws of the 2nd limb of this hexapod. When threatened, the buk'wal flips over and on its back with its belly exposed. If a predator makes the foolish mistake of trying to take advantage of its exposed belly (either by trying to pet it or eat it), the buk'wall snaps its claws together in a bear-trap fashion, nabbing whatever poor fool tried to touch it.

@lyman-garfiel

This is more like a revamping of a pre-existing idea, but Scarab The God Auditor from Fionna and Cake is new.

There was supposed to be more bugs in here, so I guess i'm just hitting double with these two. The lionfleas and omen work together the same way wolves and corvids do: the omen are expert spotters but lionfleas are expert hunters, as they are the only predator of Debu. Omen lead the lionfleas to lone debu (which is how they got their name), and the lionfleas pounce on, holding on with their two raptorial claws and raking the bare flesh with their legs. Debu don't actually have very thick skin at all, and lionfleas are more than capable to inflict lots of damage extremely quickly.

this is literally just scarab. Scarab is just very easy to bolur-ize, i guess.

Bonus: The original bolur creature concept for wakey.

Okay. I can't turn your sona into "the freaky blood pony that people think is going to hell and everyone wants to eat" and expect a good reaction. That's not how this works. This one was literally too weird but the lore fascinated me to the point this might just stay as an unaffiliated creature. It got weird because I tried to make the bun into a flower in the back of the head, i wondered what to make the nectar... I ruined it.

The hellion is named for both the blood constantly dripping down its head and the bloodwasps it brings - Debu believe that there is no afterlife for the animal as its' head seems to be compromised, and the sting of the bloodwasps it harbors is excruciatingly painful, with stories of its attacks on predators sending them to jump off cliffs from the pain. The hellion lives in symbiosis with the bloodwasps - its blood is exceptionally high in sugar and the bloodwasps lap it up from an non-painful opening in the back of its head in exchange for protecting their host. They live in the long hairs of its backmost limbs and when threatened, the hellion shakes its back limbs to spur them into action, which is often desperately needed.

I cannot stress that the hellion is delicious. The high blood sugar makes it the sweetest meat you could taste. Even in bolur's modern era, the meat is insanely expensive because it's also extremely hard to harvest. Handling hellion is, however, hell. The bloodwasps are not able to be removed from the equation, their saliva keeps the hellion alive by making it able to withstand the hardening of its blood vessels. The best that has been able to be done is socializing the hellion and its bloodwasp bodyguards around homo mousike, who offer sugar water in return for harvesting some of its blood.

Anyways, if I didn't draw you, don't fret, I'll probably do it sometime later :>

[honey-minded-hivemind]

As someone who is completely not biased and totally doesn't have favorites (I totally do), it would be interesting to have Hank as Reader's Dad.

They don' have their dad's strength at first, and they ain't much of a fighter. If someone or something trys to attack them, they are getting them down in the quickest, most efficient way possible because they just don't have the strength for it. which a lot of other wolves see as "not sporting" and "no fun".

They are just as smart as him tho, but they don't really talk as much so no one really knows about it. Why shut up Jean's bragging about recieving the "highest grade" of 95% by telling her about their 100% if all its going to get them nipped and smacked? Their interests fall in other types of sciences in comparison of their dad's chemistry and biology.

When they leave, their traps become more efficient and overtime, bigger. They start off eating squirrels and now they are getting deer in cages. It takes a while, but they start being able to take care of themselves.

Then one day they go to check their traps and see a distinct looking wolf swinging upside down from one of their traps....

They snap a photo

Ooooo... good idea! ( @danni1323 , you also get to offer your pick). Sugar, I've got to say, Hank here is a solid dad choice. (Plus come on, he's an underrated guy)

Reader is a smart pup, and a bit on the small side. They're not the strongest or the fastest, but they learn how to take things things quickly; how to set traps; how to learn changing seasons and signs of food and enemies... They don't see a point in showing off their skills or wit, because it doesn't matter to the others. Why push back, when it only ever landed them in trouble before? Best to stay quiet, to tread lightly...

They start suspecting they're related to the resident genius when their fur takes a bluish-gray color; when their eyes glow yellow-orange; when their wits keep them alive, rsther than love or tenderness... They don't want to stay though after they're punished so horribly it scars them, they sew no logical reason to. It's their survival, their life, on the line, and now, it's either them or the others... and this time, Reader chooses themself...

Learning how to hint takes time, and more often than not they have to eat smaller prey. They try to be quick with kills, try to set traps that aren't painful, try so hard to make their den small amd hidden and warm...

And then one day another young puppy stumbles into their den by accident, during a horrible blizzard, and Reader decides to show mercy this one time...

What's one night of company to them?

[lya-dustin]

The Last Wolf of Lankiveil

Part 2 of Queen of Light, King of Darkness ft the poll thanks to @jennathearcher @lady-phasma for the idea of the were-feyd fic

Taglist: @avidreader73 @emilykaldwen @cljordan-imperium @beebeechaos @dunefandomhub

Cw: murder, blood, lycanthropy

For all his reputation as a Beast and Count of Lankiveil, Glossu Rabban had not inherited their mother’s true nature thanks to their father’s wretched human blood.

Feyd Rautha had inherited more than just Onir Rautha's name, he had inherited his lycanthropy.

A true Beast, like those who ruled Lankiveil's icy lands before the Harkonnen's hunted them to extinction.

A shame his mother had to die to keep his true nature a mystery from his beloved uncle. As his mother’s son, Feyd will make sure her death wasn’t in vain.

The universe will be ruled by the last Wolf of Lankiveil.

And for that to happen, Paul Atreides and his wife, Feyd’s own sister-in-law had to die. He’d done away with Atreides’ pet and the bastard in her belly, and you deserved a gift as magnificent as the one you gave him that morning in Arrakis.

“We were hoping you could join us for a hunt in my son’s honor.” Feyd gives no indication of what he has planned for the Muad’Dib and the wife he refuses to even touch.

It is not that difficult; his wolf form could not be sensed, and he had received enough training to hone the abilities that would have created the Kwisatz Haderach. He can hide from their visions and escape their control completely.

“I am sure my wife longs to see her sister and our nephew again. We will be there, cousin.” Paul’s eyes hold some suspicion, but their alliance has chipped away at most of it. As far as his cousin knows, Feyd is a simple man with simple pleasures. Give him something to respect in you and a weapon in his hands and he will massacre entire planets in your name.

But the young baron is a father now and his perfect little heir can’t aspire to be his uncle’s heir when his lady mother is far more deserving of the Throne.

You, his Queen of Light, his Nurbanu, deserved the universe.

There is something other about him. Something related to his violent nature and the moon.

You had heard the rumors of the lycanthropy that plagued House Rabban, but one thing was hearing stories about the wolves of Lankiveil and another one was seeing her husband leave for a hunt on a full moon and hear a wolf’s howl unlike aby you’ve ever heard.

Irulan and Paul would be visiting some village across the forest that had myths of the Kwisatz Haderach they wanted to take advantage of.

You weren’t supposed to follow, you were supposed to stay home with Murad who would turn one year old tomorrow. But you wanted to confirm your suspicions.

You arrive at the village to find it in chaos. It had been destroyed as if something ravaged it and its people. Like a one man army.

“The Wolf of Lankiveil!” they shout in fear and adoration. “The Kwisatz Haderach has been destroyed!”

Contrary to popular belief, you didn’t hate your sister. She annoyed you and stood between you and your throne, but you didn’t hate her. And while you knew this day would come, you knew you would feel terrible for murdering her.

Feyd didn’t understand that part, he didn’t have a single positive memory of his brother nor any chance to be a friend to anyone.

You find the wolf at the edge of the village and you smile at the sight of him.

Your guards beg you to keep away, fearing what would happen if the wolf carried you off.

None recognize the blue human eyes in the wolf.

Your Feyd, your husband.

You believed yourself immune to him, that his violence would keep you from ever falling in love with him, but in the end he grew on you. Like mold on rotten fruit.

“So this is where you went off to, dear husband?” you ask the man beast covered in the blood of innocents.

Come with me.

No need to tell you twice. In a fluid movement you’ve gotten on his back and he takes off at breakneck speeds.

It is thrilling, to feel the icy wind around you as you use all your abilities to remain in place. You can hear his laugh echo in yours as you ride through the woods.

Not long after the wolf begins to shift, the fur thinning, the canine body losing its structure in favor of something human like and soon you arrive to his hideout clutching his back. You must look ridiculous piggybacking a bloody and very naked Feyd.

“Did you like your gift, wife?” his black teeth still have blood from where he tore apart his victims and the red staining his snow like skin paints a beautiful picture.

“How could I not, my baron?” you kiss his bloody mouth and show how much you love his gift, how much you love him.

Your daughter ,Asena Rautha, conceived that night, is born a wolf.

Just like her father.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

I (beg) ask if you can write anything Fierce Deity related. I don't want anything else, just that you write for my boy. (Pls us FD simps are starving).

Ah believe me I know y’all are dehydrated beyond the word’s meaning. I know the struggle (I really do) So I hope I do your boy (man) ((celestial being?)) justice!

(fir post writing: wow this is a LOT of context y’all don’t want or need, but my hands hurt so… part 2?)

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Immortality is a lonely existence. There are few beings that obtain an average life expectancy to that of a god. There are even fewer again who have immortality. Proper immortality. Not the poor results of a fae deal or some curse to age and wither without death. No. Proper immortality, exempt of aging past maturity and death herself.

That made his current predicament worse. Much, much worse than being stuck in a wooden mask.

You see, Gods and the immortal beings alike are rather fickle beings. They do glorious things to entertain or punish the mortals to have their names etched into stone and uttered in myth through centuries. They only wish to exist in temples of incense and candlelight, where the people there would do anything for even the cast of an eye.

Fierce had always thought those gods were the worst. All temples would crack. All names would be forgotten. All clay tablets and pots would be broken, ironically even by their proclaimed heroes. But that’s getting ahead of us. He was worshipped only in the grounds he was made for. It didn’t matter the land, for blood soaks into soil the same no matter what. It didn’t matter the men, the corpses were plentiful and he hardly discriminates. It didn’t even matter who won, because there are no winners in war.

He was made to fight, and he was made to kill. And so he did. His name rang throughout time between soldiers and emperors alike. Both tried to gain his favour. Occasionally there would be a temple, occasionally there’d be some mortal claiming to bear his blood, occasionally he’d care.

Regardless, it all came to the same ending. The men would die, the temples would crack and his name would fade into obscurity again.

It was supposed to.

But it seemed the others didn’t like that he was beating them at a game he didn’t want to win.

‘Cruel’ they called him, ‘Violent’ ‘Inhumane’ ‘Rabid’ ‘Irate’ ‘Improper’

And so, they condemned him. And he was forever no more.

Eras passed.

Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years… And truly, he was nothing.

Just as they promised.

Some relic like their old tales, except he could not crack and wither.

He was lonely, perhaps just as much as before in hindsight. The fickle attention he did have was only worth something if he willed it.

At some point, He was awoken again. There were hands on his cheeks, shaky and blood covered. And there was light. The person who had called upon his spirit was not in good shape, blood spilling from their weak body as they were chased by odd looking men. A pack of wolves set on a lamb.

He’d learn throughout the next few months of hiding you and sharing your consciousness that the people of your village had thought you to be a witch. As such, you were beaten and chased.

You were a doctor, you’d told him.

You’d just tried to cure someone.

And such began his problem.

He’d never saw the purpose of mortals. They were future bodies, to him. They’d live to die. Sure, it’s better than the alternative of there only being gods, but they never held much worth to him.

Not until you.

You are good. In every way the short comings of language can express you are good. You’d devoted your life to a thankless existence and the nature of living had caught up to you. Good things didn’t deserve that. Good people didn’t deserve to live the life you led.

He was not so cruel as to condemn you to that fate.

And so, he began to help. Once gaining a physical form, (through much trial and error) He’d do the work you couldn’t manage. Hunting, building, sewing, cooking, he’d do as much as possible. He knew what it was like to be turned back upon by everyone. But you wouldn’t be able to grow past that. Not in your short life.

He held you as you shuddered and cried. He tended to your wounds and sickness. He did and would do whatever it took to see you happy again.

He did not, however, see the consequences.

It took him far too long for his comfort to realise that you were not simply accompaniment. You consumed his waking thoughts and filled his dreams. He lived around you, your wants and your needs. He began to eat because it made you comfortable, He slept because you liked to be near him, He humanised himself because it made you happy.

He would’ve renounced his title as a god to make your life perfect, or as close to as it could be.

But He could not.

He could not simply marry you and go about your lives knowing you had one another. He could not have you to hold forever. He could not always love you in sickness and health no matter how much he tried. Because at the end of the day, it’s until death do you part.

Or… do you?

(part 2? perhaps? maybe? perchance?)

[sunanthrope]

Canine Nonhuman Media

Under cut. This is gonna be a long list and will be updated. But growing up I always knew I was a dog and was always open about being canine, and consumed canine media almost exclusively. So here you go

Books:

Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George - A story about an Inuit teenager who gets lost in the Alaskan ass end of nowhere and lives with a pack of wolves. This book is beautifully written and showcases Inuit culture, as well as fending for yourself, communicating with other species, and thinking of yourself as not entirely human. Miyax (Julie) is such a complex character as well and through the length of the book her story is revealed, as well as the story of her father, her late mother, her penpal, and eventually, why she ran away in the first place. I cannot recommend this book enough.

Julie by Jean Craighead George - The sequel to Julie of the Wolves. This book is set after Miyax is rescued from the icey wilderness and returned to civil life. It shows in detail how Miyax has adapted the ways of her wolf family and is conflicted by her father's return, because he is her family too. She is put off by her father's white wife, and longs to return to her wolf family. Delves into the idea of found vs blood family, as well as nonhuman family and not relating to humans.

The Survivors Series by Erin Hunter - So yeah, this book series is aimed at preteens. I recently started reading it though, after a long time of refusing to go near Erin Hunter's books due to trauma relating to Warrior Cats, but this series is so far amazing. I'm not far enough to say much else on it, but I will say the portrayal of how the dogs think is eerily similar to how I think.

Movies:

White Fang (2018) - I watched the 2018 movie when it first came out and fell in love with it. It's still a comfort movie for me and I feel a very close kinship with White Fang, because he's exactly like me in so many ways. This movie talks about animal abuse, dog fighting, Native American genocide and theft of land, and learning to trust again.

Balto (1995) - I love this movie and will always love this movie. Touches on subjects of learning to accept yourself, of loving both sides of yourself -- which can also be taken as a stanced on Mixed-Race BIPOC people, as Balto is half wolf and half dog, described as not quite either. Also a super heartwarming story!

Wolf Children (2012) - The story of a mother and her two werewolf children. After their werewolf father dies, the mother struggles raising her children, not only because being a mother is hard, but because her kids are half-wolf. The gradual growth of character in this movie is incredible. Touches on accepting yourself, of accepting your family, and of learning to love your true nature and decide for yourself who you want to be.

Princess Mononoke (1997) - Ok I just love Studio Ghibli. But Princess Mononoke was the first Ghibli film I watched and I adored it. It's a story about love, about found family, and about growing up and learning to leave the nest. She overcomes her hatred of humans in the end, learning that not all of them are bad. Also a story about Eco-consciousness and how factories and unsustainable living harms the environment. Princess Mononoke is so insanely hot too good lord, she was the entirety of 12 year old me's gay mind. Wanted to be her, wanted to date her.

[razorblade180]

Martial Practice 3

Early in the morning, Yanqing, Yunli, and March 7th arrived onto the Starskiff and met in the ring because of an anonymous group message.

March:Anyone else think this is a suspicious? Don’t tell me some weirdo caught wind of our fight and is challenging us?

Yunli:March, everyone was unconscious or hiding by the time we faced Hoolay. Also, we faced Hoolay! I hope nobody is dumb enough to attack us after that.

Yanqing:Hmmm. *looks at number* I can’t explain it, but I feel like I should know this number. I don’t think it’s any Cloud Knight on the ship. Regardless, keep your eyes peeled for anything.

Suddenly, a powerful pillar of wind struck the arena. Dust whipped around ferociously and disbursed to reveal General Feixiao.

Feixiao:Greetings, young friends. I’m glad you all could come.

March:I…have a bad feeling about this.

Feixiao:Haha, relax. I know I made the message sound urgent, but in truth it’s more time sensitive than anything else.

Yunli:Don’t tell me there’s still a few wolves skulking about in the shadows!?

Yanqing:If so, what are our orders? We’ll help in any way.

Feixiao:Wow, still recovering and willing to go back into the fray. Admirable and brash. I can relate. Fortunately however, I didn’t call you here because of a crisis. Soon we’ll be parting ways. Before that, there’s something I wanted to properly check. That’s why I asked for you three. What I’m about to say can’t make it back to Lingsha.

Yunli:So it is a fight!!?

Feixiao:Precisely. Yanqing, Yunli, I want you both to come at me the best you can. As for March, please observe from the sidelines. Part of training is observing after all. Watch carefully.

March:Don’t have to tell me twice! *runs to the sidelines*

Yanqing and Yunli:….

Feixiao:Whenever you’re ready.

The young sword masters couldn’t believe they found themselves in the same situation again. No one was even fully healed yet! Still, a chance to learn from the Merlin’s Claw; now who would dare pass up such an opportunity.

Yunli was first to close the distance in a single leap, swinging down Old Mettle to meet the war ax that could tear clouds asunder. Blow after blow, metal echoed like thunder. Feixiao could only smile. It wasn’t often someone could actually engage her in a contest of brute strength, and Yunli was giving her just that!

Feixiao:Very nice!

Yunli:I’m just getting started!

Feixiao blocked a side swipe with the body of her ax then slid backwards in the same act for proper spacing, aiming to swing right up the middle. Right as she was ready to send Yunli flying, Feixiao’s eyes shifted to see the blue streak flying at her. She quickly abandoned her ax in favor of her blades, smirking all the while as she blocked Yanqing; Yunli backstabbed out of reach immediately but her next move was hidden by the boy’s assault.

Flying swords swarmed around like insects but the real threat remained in their wielder. Sparks flew like chaotic fireworks as Yanqing kept pace against each blade strike. Left, right, low thrust, high parry, the boy showed his talents beautifully once again.

Feixiao: (Better be careful Jing Yuan. I might have to steal your pride for my troops at this rate.)

Yanqing:(She’s not even struggling in the slightest!)

Feixiao forced Yanqing to jump after trying to sweep his legs. In that moment, he realized his mistake and blocked hastily as she spun around once for momentum and slammed both her blades against his. The strike sent the boy flying too fast for his swords to keep up. However, Yunli was much quicker.

Old Mettle was flying right at Feixiao while the girl was already airborne with her left arm stretched out. She broke nearly all of Yanqing’s momentum by tapping and pushing him up as he flew by. This was more than enough for him to recover midair and land only few feet behind Yunli while Feixiao rolled out of Old Mettle’s way. Yunli ran to retrieve it while Yanqing closed in on Feixiao, who was trying to close in on Yunli!

March watched with batted breath as Yanqing’s flying swords made a curtain between Yunli and Feixiao long enough for her to retrieve her blade and instantly swat away the General. Both her masters lowered their stance and went in to attack but Feixiao suddenly dropped her weapons and put her hands up.

Feixiao:Okay. That’s enough.

The young warriors came to a dead stop, taking a breath in confusion. It was over already? Not only that, but Feixiao’s smile was rather cheeky and one of relief.

Feixiao:The two of you have grown a bit. That makes me happy. I can leave without worry.

Yunli:What are you talking about!? I know we’re all injured but a short battle like this couldn’t have given much about our abilities.

Yanqing:I-I can go a little longer.

Feixiao:Hehe, no need. As expected though. It looks like the both of you haven’t realized it. The youth sure is frightening sometimes. March, did you gleam anything significant?

March:*beaming with joy* Absolutely! I hadn’t noticed with Hoolay but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was happening then too!

Yunli:Enough with the vagueness! What the heck are you talking about!?

March:Master Yanqing was way more aggressive than normal. He got up close when Master Yunli’s attack was completely blocked and didn’t stop. And instead of going back after that, she got distant and calmly waited for an opening to help him instead of going for a giant blow. It’s almost like-

Yunli:We switched…fighting styles…

Yanqing:I mean- that’s natural in a group fight. If you don’t work together then everything goes wrong.

Feixiao:You’re correct. Teamwork is crucial, especially against a stronger opponent. However, the choices you made weren’t simply two people who know the value of teamwork. The two of you were being mindful and considerate of one another. Yanqing, did you choose close quarters simply to match Yunli’s pace, or was your intent to gain my intention fully so she can escape my ax and catch her breath?

Yunli:!?

Yanqing:I-I…. you’re formidable and strong! *red* Yunli’s sword is heavier than your ax and takes time to swing. You don’t leave openings to recover, so…I made one for her.

Feixiao:A clever approach. Yunli! Did you hold back on immediately countering simply out of watching the spacial awareness between your blade and Yanqing, or was it something else? Something more important? Be honest now.

Yunli:..*red* I stayed back because… I was waiting to catch him.

Yanqing:Huh!?

Yunli:Don’t act shocked! You said it yourself, she’s formidable! Not only is she quick but strong. If you landed too hard or wrong, there’s no telling if you would get up quickly. I…I didn’t throw my sword because she was open. I threw it to make time to help your butt.

Feixiao:Teamwork amongst soldiers tends to start with staying out of each other’s way, and ends at creating clear openings. What you two were doing is much more than simple teamwork. Your attacks, you actions, down to the thought process, it put each others safety first and considered weaknesses that had to be covered. That’s not something achievable between people holding grudges.

March:Grudges? General, you were still thinking about their fight at the Alchemy Commission!!?

Feixiao:Haha, of course! It was quite the spectacle after all. I had no doubt in the face of a crisis like Hoolay, talented people like you would put aside such personal matters. To do it here though, after the danger has passed, now that’s truly something to cherish. At that risk of saying too much, I’ll make this part quick. From where I’m standing you two are now proper rivals and not comrades; instead you’re friends who care about each other mutually. Take joy in that. It’ll make you both stronger in more ways imaginable.

Both of them fell silent, utterly embarrassed by how their actions were made known. They didn’t even notice it themselves!! All they could do his bow for Feixiao’ s lesson. The Lacking General laughed as she ruffled their hair before taking her leave. March could sense the awkwardness building between the two as they kept quiet.

March:…*pulls out phone* Huh, look at that! Masters! I’m sorry but I have to go now! Looks like Caelus and Stelle got tangled up in more of Guinaifen’s performances! *runs off* let’s grab lunch later!

Yunli:Honestly, could she be any more obvious?

Yanqing:Hehe, right.*rolling shoulder*

Yunli:….Hold still.

She walked behind him and gently held his right shoulder. Feixiao really didn’t know how to hold back. That sparring match really was moments from a visit to Lingsha. Carefully, Yunli moved his shoulder up and back until…pop! Back in place like it should be.

Yanqing:Th-Thanks. That feels much better.

Yunli:Don’t mention it.

Yanqing:…*inhales* Yunli-

Yunli:Don’t. I’m not dumb and neither are you. *blushes* So let’s not say anything we don’t already know. Not when I have to leave in a few days anyways…

Yanqing:…Then let me say this instead. Yunli, would you like to grab some breakfast with me?

Yunli:Going for my stomach now? How sneaky of you. *smiles* I’ll take you up on that offer. If you’re buying that is.

Yanqing:Of course. Try not drain my savings too much.

Yunli:Please, you would just put it towards more swords to buy and not use. This is a much better use.

They both shared a chuckle before making their way towards the exit. Softly, Yanqing felt a tug on his right sleeve. Yunli had quietly took ownership of it with her thumb and pointer finger pinching the cuff as they walked. Yanqing looked at her to see she was completely avoiding looking back, choosing to look straight ahead with crimson blush burning her cheeks. Yanqing felt his only face get hot as he turned his head back around in silence. Feixiao’s words rung in their head.

“Friends who cared about each other mutually.”

Next they saw her, they’d have to thank her for sparring them a little dignity.

[escapedaudios]

Spitballing ideas here, but I haven't really put much thought into what American werewolves are like. The only lore I have is that there are no Reißzahn-Wut packs in the Western Hemisphere, and since Blutschreibers are so rare, almost 100% of American Werewolves are Mondheulers. BUTTTTT!!! Mondheulers evolve as they age. Apart from their wolf form becoming more monstrous and unnatural over time, they also gain the ability to transform with less and less moonlight.

With no Reißzahn-Wut to keep them in check and fewer werewolf hunters around in a country with much vaster land, North American Mondheulers would be on average much stronger than European and Asian Mondheulers. You know how sometimes you can see the moon during the day? Imagine seeing a halfmoon in the afternoon sky and thinking you're safe from wolves, then boom, someone transforms into the most abnormal, monstrous, blood-chilling wolf you could imagine. Scary right?

If I ever make a Wolfsjäger spinoff, I really, really want to give Jäger an American nemesis. A Mondheuler from his time in Connecticut that he could never defeat. Like just one beast as fuck all-American sonofabitch. No real plot related reason, I just want an excuse to use Beast of America by Nico Vega as a theme song for a villain that's so outrageously cool that you struggle to hate him despite his unmistakable evil.