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lonesome-witching · 1 year ago

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Come Here

@robincityofsilver has asked for a part 3 of Full Moon and I was very excited to write it!!! You can read part 1 and part 2 to understand the story better, although I feel like it would be mostly okay to read it as a stand alone. So this is more werewolf Robin.

You can read my previous prompts or send me some new ones.

“I’m not sure about this, Nance.” Robin sat at the edge of the couch in the Wheeler’s basement. It wasn’t the first time she had sat here. Nor, she hoped, would it be the last.

But as time had gone by the fear of her monthly problem grew once again. Not as big as it had been the past two times. But still big enough to disturb the peace they usually found themselves in.

“Oh, come on, Robin. My family will be out.”

“You are trying to make it sound like we’re talking about sex and not me turning into a beast,” Robin complained.

“I feel like beast is overstating is.”

“Nance,” she was whining now.

“Look, I’ve been there both times you turned. And both times you have been calm and peaceful. The last time you purred in my lap like a kitten, which is ironic seeing as you turn into a wolf. I really don’t think anything bad is going to happen. And won’t you feel more comfortable waking up in a private home with no one but me to see?”

Nancy’s reasoning made sense. And Robin couldn’t say no to those big doe eyes. “Alright, fine. We’ll stay here.”

“I’ll clear up some space for the transformation.”

They moved the couch out of the way. Robin looked at the carpet that covered the floor. She wondered what it would look like covered in her own fur.

“So, should I—” Robin pointed at the carpet. “Should I lay down or something?”

Nancy smiled. “Maybe, whatever is most comfortable for you.”

So, Robin did. She dropped down on her knees and then fell on her back, staring at the ceiling as if it would reveal the full moon that must climbing up the sky right now. She could already feel the buzz under her skin that grew more and more familiar. It still made her want to scratch her skin off, but it became easier to refrain. It became easier to forget about the hair and the canines and the nails.

It was harder to forget about the pain as her bones broke and remolded her shape. She contorted and screamed. Nancy knelt at her side. Soft hands stroking Robin’s rough skin. She could barely hear Nancy’s comforting words over her blood pumping in her ears.

It only took a moment before Nancy was staring into the eyes of a wolf. Robin stood on all four legs, growling. It reminded her of the first time at Lovers Lake. Especially so when Robin pushed her snout into Nancy to catch her smell.

But just when Nancy thought Robin would drop her head in Nancy’s lap, as she had done before, Robin perked up and rushed towards the couch that stood against the far wall. Nancy watched Robin sniffle at the pillows. She looked content, happy even. Almost like this big dog. That was until she got to the middle of the piece of furniture. She growled at the pillow and then her teeth dug into the fabric.

“Robin!” Nancy shouted out.

Robin dropped the pillow and turned back toward Nancy for a moment. Just a moment. Then she was rushing towards a box of toys that had once belonged to Nancy and was now left to the care of her younger sister. She kept pulling toys out with her mouth, as if she was searching for something specific.

“Robin, please stop that;” Nancy whined. She picked up some of the toys and dropped them back in the box, but it was no use. Seconds later Robin dropped them back on the floor with a disappointed huff.

The wolf moved on, abandoning the box and rushing around the room.

“No, Robin, not the lamp!” Nancy called out as Robin bumped into a table, allowing a lamp to tumble to its demise.

Things had been easier at Lovers Lake. Things had been easier when there were no fragile things to break. She wasn’t sure why Robin was acting this way. Both times at Lovers Lake she had been calm and peaceful, simply cuddling up against Nancy.

“Robin!” Nancy rushed towards her girlfriend. One of her arms grabbed at the wolf’s neck and suddenly Robin stilled. “Robin, come here,” Nancy demanded, one of her hands disappearing beneath the fur.

The wolf listened. Her energy and anger vanishing as she bumped into Nancy.

“Come here,” Nancy repeated, pulling Robin closer, hugging her, holding her. Her hand stroked through Robin’s fur. She could feel the puffy breaths hit her own skin. It was peaceful.

Robin blinked a few times. Her body felt sore.

“There you are,” Nancy said through a yawn. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Robin was getting up. Her eyes searched the room for her extra set of clothes. In the process she noticed the toys and the remains of a porcelain lamp. “Did I do that?”

Nancy nodded. “You did and you only stopped when I hugged you. Now please get dressed because you are helping me clean this up.” Nancy got up from the floor and threw Robin her shirt.

#prompts #ronance #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #my work #stranger things #fanfic #robin x nancy #nancy x robin #ficlet #werewolf robin buckley

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hazardworld · 2 years ago

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A response to @feministfandomgeek ‘s comment; the response was too long to be a reply :)

This is a part of my Monster Town series. Part one can be found here

Most monsters can be categorized in one of these three categories:

Humanoids

Humanoids look identical or nearly identical to humans. Any powers they have maintain their form.

Robin- Ghost; when she “goes ghost” her general shapes stay the same, even though she’s invisible and can go through surfaces

Will/Johnathan- Banshees; when they scream, their scleras turn black and their irises turn yellow. Otherwise, they look the same

Glamorists

Glamorists have a generally humanoid shape, but with noticeably inhuman features. Because of this, they have to wear glamours (think TOH galderstones) to cover up. Glamour charms usually last up to 1-2 years, which means they must find a local witch to renew it (The more specialized to them though, the better) before it fizzles out.

Eddie- Witch; pointed ears, fangs (top and bottom), purple slightly-glowing eyes (color varies per witch, and is the color of their magic)

Max- Dryad; moth wing-like ears, blunt fangs, clear “blood” (sap), (if one looks close) bark-textured skin

Lucas/Erica- Vampires; pointed ears, dark claw-like nails, double sets of fangs (top only) crimson glowing eyes (color varies vamp to vamp)

El- Angel; large white feathered wings, halo light she can summon at will

Shifters

Shifters usually have two forms (but can have more) and can generally shift at will anywhere between any of those (depending on species-specific restrictions). Their monster form is considered their “natural form,” as if their human form is like a physical glamour.

If shifters spend too long completely in human form, they’ll spontaneously shift back to natural form, as well as other species-specific side effects. In order to stop this, many shifters will “half shift” to a humanoid form with monstrous features.

Steve; Siren- his parents coaxed him into a masochistic habit of “binding” his form to the point where he’s used to and doesn’t realize he’s unhealthy

Dustin; Werewolf- his mom formally taught him how to form shift, but Steve got him more comfortable with it and taught him half-shifting

Argyle; Shapeshifter- his human form is his natural form, with his second form being “the unknown”

Nancy and Mike are humans descended from Valkyries. Because of this, they have extra insight and can physically comprehend magic like monsters. Nancy is also really good at persuading people to tell the truth.

Because Hawkins is a monster town, Glamorists don’t need to wear glamours, and depending on their natural forms, Shifters can half shift or go fully natural without weird looks or persecution.

#stranger things #monster au #ghost robin buckley #banshee will byers #banshee johnathan byers #witch eddie munson #dryad max mayfield #vampire lucas sinclair #vampire erica sinclair #angel el hopper #siren steve harrington #werewolf dustin henderson #shapeshifter argyle

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azuhrasims · 7 months ago

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In my personal project save file, I have a very specific kind of mad scientist sim. Her name is Christina Landgraab, she's Nancy's younger sister. Where Nancy's goal was always money driven as it was with their father, Christina invested all of her energy into science.

Christina purchased an old lab in Newcrest and converted it into her living quarters. During the course of her scientific career, she came to invent a cloning device. It worked well for serums, fruits, and flowers. She wondered if it might also work for sims.

That was how Christina began her family. To this day, she had made three clones of her self - one became a spellcaster, one became a vampire, and the last became a mermaid. Add in one accidental alien baby, one strange cat creature from Sixam, and one Servo, this household feels complete.

Almost.

Today, Christina decided to generate another clone. This "daughter" would become a werewolf. For science, of course.

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #Azuhra's Save #eh I had to fix sims outfits today anyway and I always meant to add a werewolf to this house

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 2 years ago

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hi i was just wondering if you knew of any fics with a stranger things crossover? preferably stiles but really any that you know of. thank you so much xx

I sure do! (Also, if anyone is interested, I also have a Steddie fic blog. Just throwing that out there.)

024 by Merlin_Wolfgang_Trades_Hale

(1/? I 1,186 I Teen I No Pairing)

Getting arrested was too much of a risk for a werewolf. It could expose the supernatural and put them all in bigger danger. On a full moon that went all sorts of wrong, Stiles is ditched and left behind to be arrested. With his dad being the Sheriff they assumed Stiles would have a better chance of getting off easy.

But it wasn't Beacon Hills Sheriff's department that arrested Stiles. They don't know who it was, just that they have him. There aren't any answers...until Sheriff Steven Harrington from Hawkins Indiana arrives with his deputy Jane, who claims she find Stiles.

Spilling Over by LilliBla

(9/? I 3,752 I Teen I Steddie)

Will snaps, but an unexpected person shares their trauma and let's him know that he's not alone.

Caught Somewhere in Time by badfanfictionaire

(5/? I 5,489 I Teen I Stydia)

Lydia and Stiles are just having a peaceful moment in the park when the sky opens up and sucks them back in time to 1987.

Chrissy and Eddie are camping in Yellowwood State Forest when two time-traveling weirdos show up at their campsite.

Two strawberry blond brainiacs and their ADHD riddled boyfriends... what could go wrong?

Curiosity Door by bananannabeth

(4/? I 5,681 I Teen i Stydia)

The Ghost Riders' dimension isn't the only one with portals into Beacon Hills.

Dealers Choice by StrangerxImagines

(8/? I 8,067 I Not Rated I No Pairings)

Laura dies in the woods, staring up at the full moon peeking through the tree tops, letting go as the world goes black around her. She wakes up in 1984 in dark murky tunnels in a town she hadn’t been to since her parent’s died and comes face to face with her nineteen year old father. Now stuck in the past Laura does her best to blend in, lying about who she is and where she comes from. Does she warn her father of his fate twenty years in the future or does she remain silent? Laura doesn’t know if changing the future might make things worse but what she does know is that the more time she spends with him the harder it is to keep her secret.

Moonlight by Vexed_Love21

(10/? I 9,711 I General I Steddie)

Steddie being Stiles parents. Instead of his mother dying and Noah being his dad

Holding Hands While the Walls Come Tumbling Down by tabbytabbytabby

(1/1 I 10,092 I Teen I Steve/Stiles)

Stiles gets word of some strange disappearances happening in the town on Hawkins, Indiana. Worried the town might have a Nemeton they don't know about, he sets off to investigate. What he's not expecting is to find himself drawn to the town and more specifically one of its locals, Steve Harrington.

parts of you, forgotten by buddhaghost

(13/? I 21,631 I Not Rated I Nancy/Jonathon)

Jonathan Byers is new at Beacon Hills. Stiles is convinced he's being watched. And then he meets Jonathan's 'little sister', the one who called Stiles her brother, and everything simultaneously makes sense, as well as gets much more complicated.

#teen wolf #steddie #stydia #stiles stilinski #mpreg

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direwombat · 1 year ago

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happy halloween y'all! unfortunately, i haven't been able to finish act 1 of the werewolf au just yet (got two scenes left to write), so instead of posting the whole thing today, i offer you the scene where syb is bitten and undergoes her first werewolf transformation.

tw for blood and body horror.

Graveyard shifts are a special kind of Hell. Sybille tries to avoid them whenever she can, but with Earl undergoing a medical procedure in Missoula and Staci needing at least one day off this week to sleep, she bit the bullet and agreed to spend nine hours drinking coffee, watching in agony as time marches forward far too slowly for her liking.

She doesn’t deal with quiet or inactivity very well. Two things that the graveyard shift has an abundance of. With most of its citizens tucked away in their beds, the sleepy little county goes from slow, to fucking dead.

At least Joey is there to keep her company, and Nancy’s willingness to entertain their shenanigans while Whitehorse is away makes the mind-numbing tedium bearable.

It’s a quarter-past eleven p.m. and Sybille is poised to fire the rubber band looped around her fingers. Halfway across the bullpen, Joey has a precariously stacked assortment of objects, ranging from case binders serving as the base to an empty water bottle teetering atop the short-end of a tissue box. The bottle’s cap is unscrewed and standing upright, nestled in against the plastic lip.

“Okay,” Joey says, once she’s sure the whole arrangement won’t collapse on its own. “Two points for hitting the bottle. Five points for knocking it down.”

“And if I get the cap without knockin’ the bottle over?” Sybille asks.

The grin on Joey’s face widens. “Then drinks at the Spread Eagle are on me.”

“You’re on.”

Drawing her lower lip between her teeth, and squinting her non-dominant eye shut, she takes aim. With the same gravity she approaches firing her own weapon, she takes a deep breath, and on the exhale, she releases the band. With a faint twang it rockets across the room, and a split second later the bottle cap is bouncing and rolling across the linoleum floors.

“Good job, honey!” Nancy calls to her, not looking up from the magazine she’s flipping through.

Joey's grin falters as Sybille meets it with her own smug one. “Alright hotshot,” she says. “Double or nothing. Bet you can’t do that from all the way across the room.”

“You want my drink order before or after we get to the bar?” Sybille pulls another rubber band from the ball on her desk and rises to stand on the far side of the bullpen. “I’ll give ya a hint,” she says, hooking the band around her thumb. “Top shelf’s got a bottle of bourbon from Louisiana.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joey waves her hand dismissively and she retrieves the bottle cap from the floor. “Put your money where your mouth is, New Orleans.”

But the second Joey gets her tower set up on the opposite end of the room, the phone on Nancy’s desk rings, causing the two deputies to freeze.

“Hope County Sheriff's Department,” Nancy chirps, sounding far too awake for so late in the evening. “How can we be of assistance?”

Both Sybille and Joey breathe a quiet sigh of relief. Non-emergency line. And then they’re locking eyes, their previous game forgotten in favor of a lightning round of rock-paper-scissors to see who gets to go out and who gets to sit around with their thumbs up their ass. Joey wins -- “Best two-outta-three?” -- and she pumps her fist into the air victoriously.

But then Nancy says, “Deputy La Roux? There’s a call for you on line one.”

Joey’s jaw drops. “What!?”

Sybille frowns and her brow furrows and she hesitantly strides back towards her desk. Who would be calling the Sheriff’s Department to ask for her specifically rather than calling her directly? Falling into her chair, she picks up her phone. “Deputy La Roux speaking.”

At first all she hears is the caller’s rough and ragged panting, as if they’re out of breath. “Deputy,” comes the voice of Jacob seed and Ah, right. She did spitefully tell him to call the non-emergency line if he thought of any more information. After hearing nothing for a week and with the case being closed, she figured she wouldn’t hear from him. “You remember when you said to call in case anything came up?”

“She sits up a little straighter in her chair and snatches a pen from her cup holder. “Yeah,” she answers, flipping to a clean page in her notepad. “What’s goin’ on?”

Joey shoots her a questioning look, one Sybille waves away.

“One of my workers didn’t show up for the final check-in. Thought he just left early, but no one’s been able to get a hold of him. Then we thought he maybe wandered into the woods so we rounded up a search party and…” he trails off. That ragged breathing returns, along with a barely audible, “Christ.”

She knows Jacob’s kind. Knows that people like them aren’t easily rattled. Whatever he and his search party found must be the stuff of nightmares. “Calm down,” she says firmly. “Just focus on my voice. Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know but…well, he’s stew meat now.”

“Shit.” She drags her hand down her face. “Any evidence of wolves nearby?”

Joey’s eyes go wide.

“Yeah,” Jacob says. “Tracks are old, though. The wolf that did this looks long gone by now.”

“Goddammit,” she hisses, and jots down St. Francis - Wolf Attack? in her notes. “Alright, sit tight. I’m on my way up.”

“Much appreciated, Deputy,” he sighs. “Front gate’ll be open for ya.” And with that, he hangs up.

Slamming the phone back into its cradle, Sybille stands up and grabs her jacket.

“What’s going on?” Joey asks.

“‘Nother wolf attack,” she says, tugging her coat on. “Same area as the last one.”

“Shit,” Joey breathes. “You want me to come with you?”

Sybille shakes her head and picks up a set of keys to the cruisers. “Naw, I’ll be fine.” Then she calls over to Nancy. “Hey Nance? Do me a favor and send a unit of EMTs to the Veterans Center.”

“Ten-four, Deputy,” Nancy says, giving her a salute as she shoves her way out the station’s doors.

Between the minimal traffic this late at night and the siren blaring, she makes it up into the Whitetails and pulls up to the old Veterans Center in record time. True to his word, Jacob seems to have left the wrought iron gates wide open, but curiously, it doesn’t look like anyone’s home. There isn’t a single light on in the large, imposing building, nor does she see any bobbing flashlights from the search party.

The only thing illuminating her way is the moon, hanging full and bright in a partly cloudy sky.

She exits her vehicle and rolls her eyes. “For fuck’s sake,” she mutters to herself. “Bet he went after it like a fuckin’ fool.” With a shake of her head, she circles around and pops open the trunk to retrieve a rifle and ammo. She mounts a tactical flashlight to the barrel, and, slamming the trunk shut, begins to creep towards the building.

“Mister Seed!” she calls. “Mister Seed, y’out there?” Gun raised, she cautiously passes between the gates and steps into the courtyard. The hell’re those EMTs? she wonders. “Mister Seed!” she tries again, “The Sheriff’s Department is here!”

Still nothing.

The wind goes still and the world goes deafeningly quiet.

The hair on the back of her neck stands on end.

Something’s wrong.

A low growl echoes around her, bouncing off the brick and mortar. She feels the vibrations of it deep in her bones and her blood thrums through her veins. The ground beneath her shakes and emerging from the building itself, stalks a massive wolf. It’s larger than any wolf she’s ever seen. Larger than the ones she’s come across while out hunting with Eli. Larger even than the one she delivered to Dr. Lindsey.

Much, much larger.

Its lips are pulled tight, bearing its teeth in a ferocious snarl. A number of scars marr its face, crawling down to its chest and forelegs where the rust-colored fur grows in patches. Piercing blue eyes lock on her. Its muscles are coiled tight, poised for the attack, and just waiting for her to turn and run.

Her mouth goes dry and her heart hammers in her chest, a frantic animal throwing itself against her ribcage trying to break free. “Okay,” she says, her voice trembling. She swallows thickly, and takes an instinctive half-step back. “I see ya, Big Bad, I see ya.” Steeling herself, she lifts her rifle and looks down the barrel at the hulking beast. “I ain’t wanna hurt’cha, but if you keep comin’ towards me like that, I will. Now get!”

But rather than startling and running at her shout, the wolf snarls and gnashes its teeth. The ground shakes as prowls closer, its lumbering steps leaving massive impressions of its paws in the soft dirt. A long tongue lolls out of its mouth, and it loudly licks its chops.

“I said GET!” and she fires her rifle. The bullet rips into the fur and flesh of its shoulder -- she watches the blood bubble and ooze to the surface, matting the fur around it. But the wolf doesn’t even flinch. Her heart and stomach both drop all the way to the ground, and it takes every ounce of self control she has not to piss herself.

“Shit,” she breathes.

All she did was make it angry.

The single act of provocation is all it takes. The wolf lunges. It races towards her, massive claws and sharp teeth closing in with the blink of an eye.

Sybille runs.

She hears Eli’s voice in the back of her head warning her against her very actions. “Never turn your back on a predator,” was one of the first things he’d told her when he took her out hunting for the first time. “Make noises. Scream. Throw rocks. But never turn your back. The second they realize you’re not fully paying attention to them -- the second they see an opportunity -- they strike. And if they knock you down…?”

A sudden force strikes her, pushing her forward. She cries out as she stumbles. Sharp claws tear into the fabric of her uniform and draw long, deep scratches down the expanse of her back. The skin prickles before exploding into a raging inferno of heat and pain, and she feels the blood pulsing out in time with her racing pulse. The wind is knocked from her lungs in a loud oof! as she falls face first to the ground. She lets her rifle go in a futile attempt to catch herself with her hands. The gun flies over the dirt and pine needles before sliding to a stop well beyond her reach. Her chin knocks against the ground and her teeth rattle in her skull on impact.

A heavy weight settles on her back, pinning her down. Breath -- hot, heavy, and wet -- fans over the back of her neck and thick globs of saliva drip onto her head and shoulders. She can barely breathe herself, her lungs compressing under the immense pressure.

“If they knock you down, you’re fucked.”

“No, no, no!” she sobs, clawing at the ground, trying to wrench herself free and crawl towards her gun. But then there’s a loud snuffling right by her ear, and goes tense when the beast’s cold, wet nose brushes against her face. Every muscle in her body locks, seizing, as her fight and flight instincts give way to freeze. Another breath washes over her and a choked whine pushes out of her throat, thin and reedy, when its tongue drags over where her pulse thunders in her neck.

“No, no, please!” For the first time in years, she begins to cry. She begins to beg. She begins to pray. “Oh, God…God, no…please!”

But God isn’t listening. He never has. Not to her anyway.

Sharp teeth sink into the soft flesh of her shoulder like she’s made of butter and she howls in pain. It’s enough to shock her system, her fight instinct returning, but all she can do is claw at the ground and kick her legs feebly while the monster keeps her pinned down. Deeper and deeper, the teeth sink in until they graze bone, but instead of continuing -- instead of shattering it and ripping out a pound of flesh, the wolf releases her and the weight on her back disappears.

Her trembling hand flies to her neck, slamming down to apply pressure to the pulsing wounds. Blood gushes between her fingers, more and more of it pumping out with every frantic beat of her heart. Her breath comes out in short and ragged gasps. Her head feels light, her vision swimming, and as she rolls onto her back, she stares up at the wolf looming over her. Its lips are stained red with her blood, its tongue and teeth tinged pink as it mixes with its saliva. Its tongue falls out of its mouth again, running over its chops, savoring the taste of her before it lowers its head once again.

Her eyes squeeze shut, anticipating the excruciating pain of having her throat ripped out. But instead of finishing the job, it lets out a soft, almost apologetic whine. With a bizarre amount of tenderness, it drags its tongue over where it bit her, laving at and nursing the wounds before pulling away and running off into the woods.

It leaves her there, writhing on the ground and gasping in pain. No matter how hard she tries to slow her breathing, to reign in the frantic beating in her chest, she can’t quite seem to calm herself down. Sweat beads at her brow, and a frigid chill rolls through her, making her stomach clench and her fingertips go numb. She shivers and convulses. Her tongue feels thick and heavy, several sizes too large for her mouth.

She has just enough wherewithal to know that she’s going into shock.

Just as darkness begins creeping in at the edges of her vision, the moon, which had been hidden behind cloud cover, emerges, bathing her in silver light. A surge of energy washes over her and she gasps, the cool night air finally filling her lungs. Her vision sharpens, and somehow, beyond the thick, metallic stench of her own blood, she can make out the scent of pine and decaying leaves. The skin surrounding the bite prickles and she feels the tight, burning sensation of the flesh miraculously knitting itself back together.

What the Hell?

Her jaw suddenly begins to ache and there’s a painful pressure pushing against her teeth. Blood fills her mouth and she sputters, rolling onto her belly and lifting herself onto trembling hands and knees. She coughs and blood erupts from her mouth. It splashes to the ground, thick and red, and she spits out a mouthful of her own teeth with it. She screams again -- first in terror and then in agony. Her back curls, the bones of her upper spine growing and pushing against the underside of her skin so hard that she’s convinced that they’re going to break through.

She claws at the dirt, not stopping when her fingers snap and her nails rip free of their beds. And then her chest is on the ground, the shifting of her bone forcing her arms to pop free of their sockets. The ragged scream torn from her lungs is muffled by the mouthful of dirt, blood, and teeth that she swallows. Her back legs follow as her hips feel like they’re being crushed and forced into a new shape.

She’s always considered her pain tolerance to be high. She’s been stabbed, shot, beaten, burned, and blown up, and only some of that happened while she was in the army. The pain she’s experiencing doesn’t come anywhere near comparable.

Her own body is ripping itself apart.

It’s excruciating.

Her sobbing gasps quiet into hiccuping whimpers, until they can’t be heard over the sickening cracks of her bones snapping and reforming. All she wants is to give in. Let the pain wash over her and drown in it until she can’t feel anything anymore.

No. We ain’t dyin’ here. Not ‘til we get the bastard who did this to us.

The words come to her the same way they did when she was baking under the Afghanistan sun after the IED strike over a year ago. She’d been bleeding out on the ground then too, buried underneath the weight of a corpse. She should have died then, but something kept her going. Something gave her the strength to shove the body off her, to hold her guts in place, and to stumble through the carnage and rubble until she found help.

If there was one thing her daddy taught her -- God damn his soul -- it was how to keep fighting.

Sybille La Roux is a survivor.

It’s all she’s ever known.

You’re almost there, something murmurs in the back of her mind. She doesn’t know where it comes from, but it speaks to her in her own voice. It’s almost over.

She tries to speak, but the attempted, “Who are you?” never makes it past the vibrations of her vocal chords. The sounds that come from her mouth are more the feral cry of a confused and frightened animal rather than words. Her palette is thinner; her tongue is long and unwieldy, falling out of her mouth.

She no longer has lips with which to speak.

What’s happening to me?

Don’t worry about that right now, the voice answers. Just focus.

So she does. She focuses on the taste of blood in her mouth. On the raw ache in her throat as she screams and screams and screams.

And then suddenly the pain is gone. She’s no longer doubled over on her hands and knees, but rather standing at full height on four massive paws. Her head lifts and the tail end of her cries become a deep, bellowing howl that rings out into the night. The wind rustles through the trees and while there are a number of scents carried on it -- deer, rabbit, skunks and the like -- there’s one that stands out amongst the rest. Damp earth and pine, wood smoke and musk, and something faintly metallic that isn’t part of the natural world.

It’s familiar, although she has no idea where she’s smelled it before.

That’s him, the voice that both is and isn’t her says. That’s the scent of the one who did this to us.

Her lips pull tight over her teeth and her ears slick back. She takes a few tentative steps forward on her new limbs. Her careful trot is quick to turn into a full run, following the direction of the scent. Powerful limbs push against the soft dirt, leaving deep impressions of paw prints in her wake. The wind whips through her fur, and the entire world is sharp and focused as she hones in on that earthy, musky scent.

She’s fast. She’s strong. She’s free.

She’s clear.

And she’s fucking pissed.

Bastard drew first blood, and this time both she and the voice are speaking as one. I say we return the favor.

__________

taglist: @inafieldofdaisies, @jillvalentinesday, @ladyofedens-blog, @strafethesesinners, @strangefable, @cassietrn

#wip whenever #wip: the horror and the wild #anyway. fucked up that nanowrimo starts tomorrow 😬

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alltimefail-sims · 4 months ago

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📩 Simblr question of the day: How do you incorporate seasons, festivals and holidays in your game? Do you stick with the default calendar or add your own? Or maybe you ignore the calendar entirely? (@simblr-question-of-the-day)

I love stuff like festivals and holidays that prompt you to do something different with your sims so I'm looking forward to hearing your answer to this one!

I've been pondering adding some vampire/werewolf/spellcaster holidays myself, but I'm not very sure what exactly I would do for those. There's a lot of history, I expect I might add some memorial holidays.

Honestly I wish I had a better answer to this question than what I have, but I actually under-utilize the calendar feature. I would even argue I nearly ignore it entirely, especially some of the festivals and small holidays (the neighborhood brawl holiday for example, lol).

I love the idea of festivals, but I tend to play a little pretend with this feature - I'll make seasonal community lots (like a pumpkin patch/fall festival lot) and just plan a party or gathering at that lot. It gets my sim out of the house, but I don't have the rigid holiday goals that slow my computer down. Unless my sim is living in the world the festival is occurring in, I tend to not have my sim attend them. I blame my computer's lag for that issue - not the features themselves. But attending a Henford fair when my sim lives in Brindleton Bay feels strange to me. I will say, I actually love the City Living festivals when I'm playing in San Myshuno though!

One thing I do use the calendar for, however, is adding summer vacations for my child and teen sims (and even a small winter/fall break as well - I have pretty much all my saves on no aging/longest life span I think, so I never run into an issue of time).

I think the idea of adding holidays or festivals for occults is an intriguing idea! I kind of do this without the calendar and with a little imagination, but I might play around and see if there's anything cool I can come up with to share down the road. Vampires in my lore, for example, are fickle creatures who love lavish parties and events - they have regular vampire council meetings (composed of all the vampire clan leaders), galas, social events, etc. Vampires are very traditional as well, so I feel they would observe many formal holidays that are exclusive to the vampire world. The same goes for Spellcasters. Wolves feel more free, "on-the-fly" types to me, but The Collective might have some traditional ceremonies/festivals/memorial holidays etc. that could be incorporated with the calendar.

My big issue with holidays, as they currently are, is that they're far too broad - they apply to the whole world, not just a certain occult type or your household, but I'm sure there are mods out there that remedy this issue. But by and large I have avoided adding holidays to the calendar that just target specific occults (or ones that only benefit the save I'm playing in) because it would be very weird to see Nancy Landgraab celebrating an occult holiday on a community lot or something lmao. I am a micromanager in most of my saves and a stickler for keeping the "immersion," so this could just be a "me" issue. Some of my occult lore is kind of dark, which is why it makes broad stroke, blanket features like the calendar a bit challenging to use. But if you play around with holidays at all, I'd love to know what you come up with!!!

#Thank you for this ask <3 I'm so sorry it took me 12 years to respond omg #sqotd #atfs ask #charsimsalot

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idiopath-fic-smile · 2 years ago

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(every time i think i'm done, @greenlikethesea posts another banger and i think "well what if i did just one more?")

so yeah, i wrote another song inspired by the fictional music in @greatunironic's Steddie epic the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you. cover art i borrowed from @bienmoreau, whose work in this universe is just delightful.

i was thinking specifically of the emotional landscape that would've produced the album boy with a bat, the highs and lows and the feeling of going through it all surrounded by people you love, both romantically re: steve, but also in the found family sense. my first instinct with the title of this song was that telling the wolves was in some way an act of defiance, but then i thought about eddie the outcast, eddie the former town pariah, regarded as other and dangerous, and i decided that in my interpretation, the wolves are his people, so to speak. i wanted a howl-like effect on that line, and in an effort not to short out my microphone, i literally sang the word "home" with my head thrown back to the sky like a werewolf.

Lyrics under the cut!

A late night flight or two Stars and cars and cornfields formed the view Gathered here to watch the light go out the final time To say what must be said: “you are not an island,” “come to bed” Though it doesn't mean the things you want it to, it's fine

in the morning there will be noise and life and buzz It doesn't mean the things you want until it does

Looked so long that I forgot to see, to see Lingered in his doorway, he was waiting there for me

Tell the wolves I'm home been rambling since Rome family, I'm back Tell the wolves I'm home some things you do alone but some, they take a pack

Starting at the end around a table, bullshitting with friends Gathered here to watch the light go out the final time To do what must be done smoking up and lunch and grocery runs leaning on each other, let me take your weight, it's mine

In the morning there will be laughter, loss and food And something new that's growing, something good

Pain and joy bloom endlessly until we fall apart Sitting watching Nancy's kid run circles in the yard

Tell the wolves I'm home been rambling since Rome family, I'm back Tell the wolves I'm home some things you do alone but some, they take a pack

Tell the wolves I'm home Tell the wolves I'm home Tell the wolves I'm home

#stranger things for ts #the most remarkable thing #the most remarkable thing fansongs #steddie #i am reasonably insecure about my songwriting which makes it funny to me that i chose this one to try #since it's canonically the closing song off a grammy-winning album #a COMICALLY BIG SWING #come for the allusion to greenie's I Wore His Jacket stay for the allusion to Greek mythology

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the-teddy-bear-butch · 2 years ago

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how do u think nancy (& maybe the rest of the sapphic senate) deals with werewolf robins shedding

EXCELLENT QUESTION

Did you know they make Heavy Duty lint rollers? Nancy does.

They own approximately a dozen of these, scattered through their shared apartment.

Nancy has about lost her mind buying pet hair removal products. Dryer sheets specifically for pet hair. Lint rollers for clothes.

They try to take Robin out of the house when they can during full moons, but they can’t always. Nancy has 100% put down a tarp and confined Robin to a bedroom before.

Chrissy likes to sit and brush Robin’s fur with shed removal products. Sometimes it helps for the next full moon.

For the most part they’ve just resigned themselves to washing the sheets extra and lint rolling furniture and clothes a couple times a week. Robin always helps and she’s super shy and apologetic about it

#ajdkdkdk this was a fun one #werewolf robin buckley #ronance #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #the sapphic senate #robin x nancy #nancy x robin #lo answers stuff #el fandom birb

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yxlenas · 8 months ago

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The people (me) want to know: what are your thoughts on monster!Robin? (Which is your fave, werewolf, vampire etc etc that kind of stuff) Also, what if: Werewolf!Robin and Vampire!Nancy. Together. And then they kiss (or bite each other most probably lmao)

It's def werewolf Robin if I monster-ify Robin but I tend to monster-ify Nancy specifically (something something internalized guilt and comphet something something)

Also yes to the biting

#ronance

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veryace-ficrecs · 2 years ago

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Gen Stranger Things pt2

This is a second list of General Audience fics! find the first one here

Please enjoy!! (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

temptations of trouble by MacksDramaticShenanigans

Eddie ignores the flip flopping in his stomach as he meets Steve’s gaze and fits his palms to either side of Steve’s jaw. Cradles his face like he’s something special now. (Because he is.)

And then he leans in to kiss him. Right on those pretty pink lips of his.

It’s short and sweet like it always is, but when Eddie pulls back and opens his eyes, he’s met with Steve’s, wide as fucking saucers, goggling unblinkingly back at him. He can feel Robin’s stare boring into the side of his face, can feel the tiny pinpricks of Nancy’s and Jonathan’s and Argyle’s on his back too. The whole room is quiet enough to hear a god damn pin drop.

Eddie is about to open his mouth and ask what the hell that’s all about when it finally catches up with him.

He just fucking kissed Steve fucking Harrington. On the mouth.

Late to a Date by CrystalDragonette

In which Steve asks Eddie out, Eddie thinks it's a mean joke, only to realize that Steve was being serious a bit too late.

So he proceeds to lie to Steve, go on the date, have a good time and still somehow ends up with the promise of another date.

what will today's adventure be by laundrybiscuits

“GURPS: Generic Universal Role-Playing System,” announces Erica, slamming the books down on Steve’s kitchen table. “A flexible, multi-purpose, setting-agnostic system that can accommodate any conceivable type of story or play style. This is the future of role-playing games, not your broke-ass fantasy bullcrap.”

The Party tries something new.

DnD Night at the Harrington Mansion by schrijverr

Gareth is invited alongside the rest of Hellfire to play DnD at the Harrington mansion, something that is very odd. Throughout the night he meets a much nicer king Steve, who is playing house with their DM. He watches in confusion at their domesticity, wondering how that came about

10 P.M. by stellarpoint (pettifogger)

“Can you read to me?” Eddie asks.

Steve blinks. “Read to you?”

Eddie nods, his eyes falling shut again. “Wanna read but my head hurts too fuckin’ much,” he grumbles. “S’okay if you don’t want to. We can just sleep.”

“No, it’s okay, I want to— it’s just, uh, it’s just—”

It’s just that Steve hasn’t read aloud in years. He hasn’t read aloud since doing Romeo and Juliet in tenth grade English class, and everyone had laughed when he mispronounced “vestal livery” in Romeo’s monologue, just like they had laughed when he was twelve and had to sound out all the unfamiliar words in reading class, just like they had laughed when he was seven and read so slowly that someone raised their hand and asked if they could take over for him.

Or: Steve reads to Eddie. He's surprised when Eddie enjoys it.

Canis Lupis Familiaris by ItCanBePalped

Steve, to his utter horror, is bitten under a full moon. Following a painful transformation and a scramble through the woods, he finds himself in the care of Eddie Munson. Eddie doesn't seem to grasp the severity of the situation, and the kids (and honorary kid Robin) are away, which means that Steve has to grit his teeth and accept the helping hand extended his way. Luckily he's, like, totally got absolute control, an amazing grip on his mind- even in his new form.

A werewolf tale (sort of) in three or so parts, set in a universe that's a step or two to the left genre-wise. Magic instead of Sci-Fi!

save it for a rainy day by Unoriginal_Username

In which Steve Harrington has to walk home in a torrential downpour, and happens to find Eddie Munson without an umbrella.

Can I Still Call? by theswampnugget

Steve doesn't like being taken care of. More specifically, he doesn't like to feel like a burden. He really can't avoid it when a migraine wipes him out in the middle of a shift, and none other than Eddie Munson comes to drag him home.

Eddie and Robin and their journey to knock some sense into one poor Dingus.

waving down the wind by MacksDramaticShenanigans

Eddie furrows his brows, and he’s about to ask Steve what he did come over here for, when Steve starts to shrug out of his jacket. Rolls his shoulders back and lets it slide down his upper arms.

“I came over here,” Steve starts, and he gives his arm a shake when the sleeve gets caught around his elbow. Once it’s off, he bunches his fist into the fabric of the collar. “To give you this,” he finishes and holds out the coat.

Eddie blinks down at it. Then he looks back up at Steve. “What?”

Or, three times Eddie looks cold and Steve does something about it, and one time he’s toasty warm.

I Move the Stars for No One by surprisinglyOK

Or, 5 times Eddie comes out to his friends, and 1 time Steve comes out to him right back.

Starry Eyed Love by glitchywords

Nancy and Robin are used to it so they're not paying attention but the bartender, Jack, looks at him with pity, thinking he's another fan who thinks he has a real shot with someone in the band. After the second set and with Steve still laser focused on the stage, he's got to be the one to unfortunately shatter the little bubble he's living in. Jack sets a glass of whiskey down in front of him, startling him a bit.

"Look, kid," he says. "I've worked here a while, seen bands come and go in this place and there's always a couple of guys who have the same exact look as you do."

The boy tilts his head, confused.

"All starry eyed and hopeful, thinking that they're gonna be the one that makes it back to the bus."

The Runaway Bride by mycryingromance

After a end to one of Steve's numerous failed dates, he finds that the gangs jokes have become a bit unbearable. In comes crashing Eddie Munson.

My Hands Have Made Some Good Mistakes. (They Can Always Make Better Ones.) by Atlas_M_33

The first time that Eddie notices, they’re trekking through the woods looking for some kind of gate, though it's not until a few minutes later that he realizes what it was that stood out to him.

For all that he was very much a jock, Harrington’s still a rich kid who shouldn’t have had to work a day in his life, cruising through on his daddy’s reputation, but there were calluses, rough and prominent, on his palm where their hands touched.

the world will follow after by MacksDramaticShenanigans

(Five times Eddie notices Steve Harrington's hands, and one time Steve thinks about Eddie’s.)

Another glance at the clock and Steve really has to leave now. He barely has time to shove the piece of toast Eddie, so graciously, made for him (crisp, but not too crunchy, and definitely not burnt, with just the right amount of butter spread thin across the top) into his mouth before he’s running towards the door.

He’s about two steps away from it, hand already reaching for the knob, when Eddie catches him. He gives Steve's shoulders a squeeze, then spins Steve around and reaches for his collar next, fussing with it until it’s straightened and flat. He pats Steve twice on the chest and gives him a smile.

“All set now,” he says. Then, “have a nice day at work.”

Steve, at the complete whim of his scrambled brain, smiles back, tells Eddie thanks, glances at his watch, curses under his breath, then leans in to kiss Eddie goodbye.

Then, just as quickly, he’s out the door and in his car and finally on his way to work.

It isn’t until he’s halfway there that it hits him what he’s just done.

He kissed Eddie Munson.

I'll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours by Cerealkiller27

Eddie gets embarrassed when people come over and see the baby pictures of him his Uncle Wayne leaves around, so he always collects and hides them before anyone comes over. Only, one day when Steve comes over, he forgets one, and Steve begs him to let him see the others. Eddie finally agrees, but only if they can go to Steve's house after and he'll get to see pictures of baby Steve, just to make it even.

Dyslexic by KittyonCRACK

Steve Harrington is dyslexic and Eddie Munson is the first person Steve ever tells.

Sign of the Future by OneAndOnlyOllie

Five times Eddie saw the kids use ASL with Steve, and one time he did.

isn't it obvious? by througheden

Eddie falls asleep on Steve and Robin has some questions.

Birds of a feather flock together but make it gay by everdeen6

It wasn’t like Steve went out of his way to hide it. He had come to terms with it, a long, long time ago in fact. And yes he knew some people had a big coming out moment but it never seemed a good time, especially when there were monsters around.

Or the one where Steve thought everyone knew he was bisexual. Spoiler alert: they didn't

#stranger things fanfiction #gen fic #veryace recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #the party #stranger things fic recs #stranger things

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