#the wolf among us inspired

[darkdemeter]

Wolf And The Marvels - concept cover reveal. Project is still in alpha, all material is subject to alterations in the future.

An interactive choice based game-narrative on carrd. Inspired by titles such as Telltale Games' The Wolf Among Us, you will take on the role as Sheriff. A dark and gruesome mystery falls over New York and the Avengers are being pinned to take the blame. Determined to clear their name, you will get to the bottom of this case, even if it gets you fired or killed.

None are so hardy to trust a wolf to do good by the people, it's in your nature to prey upon the weaker sheep, but Wanda Maximoff has complete faith in you. For a city poisoned by illusion, corruption and fear, a metropolis of skyscrapers never looked so small compared to you.

[amazeingartist]

The Cryptid Couple

old doodles I cleaned up a bit

it is wild that military propaganda has made me ship the Loch Ness Monster with Mothman, like I know being a CoD fanartist wasn’t on the bingo card like. at all so this certainly wasn’t something I expected to happen lmao (not that I’m complaining, I’m having a blast)

[justcrafting]

You better run, run, run, run, run 'Cause there's gonna be some hell to pay

Bonus solo versions under the cut!

[johnnysimmer]

Bigby Hair

Here’s a hairstyle inspired by Bigby from one of my favorite games, The Wolf Among Us! ♥

Info:

Base Game Compatible

2 versions (w/ and w/o strands)

Masculine - Feminine

24 swatches

Hat Compatible, All LODs, All Maps

Teen-Elder

Support me! Ko-Fi | Patreon

DOWNLOAD (free)  

[sidekick-hero]

Phoenix

(steddie | explicit | 7.4k | AO3 | tags: porn with fluff, rock star eddie, roadie steve, canon divergence - eddie lives and cc gets famous)

The most talented @firefly-party drew some gorgeous art of Eddie enjoying some cake 😏🍑 and this inspired this fic. Lots of love go out to @hbyrde36 and @pearynice for being amazing cheerleaders and beta readers 💜

Excerpt

A loud throat-clearing cuts through the haze, and Steve opens his eyes to see Gareth, sitting with a wicked grin, tossing a crumpled-up piece of paper at Eddie’s back. “Oi, lovebirds,” he says, “save those bedroom eyes for the actual bedroom, Munson.”

Eddie grins, unashamed, flashing Gareth a mock salute. “I don’t need a bedroom for bedroom activities, losers.”

Jeff leans casually against the wall, arms crossed, smirking. “Can’t say I’m surprised. You two always manage to bring your own kind of encore,” he teases, waggling his eyebrows in a way that’s both exaggerated and somehow fond.

From across the room, their sound tech, Lucy, chuckles as she shoves a bag into her duffel. “Guess the ‘Phoenix’ isn’t the only thing heating up tonight,” she jokes, grinning at Steve’s half-embarrassed, half-amused expression.

“And he'll rise again and again and again,” tones Frank’s dry voice, making Eddie cackle and waggle his eyebrows at Steve.

Jeff groans at the horrible innuendos. “Don’t mind us, we’re heading out anyway. Figured we’d leave you two to, ah, continue the celebration?”

Eddie flashes them all a shameless grin, winking as he wraps an arm around Steve’s waist. “You all sound jealous,” he quips, barely missing a beat.

Gareth laughs, grabbing his jacket. “Oh, trust me, I’m good. Those pants are enough of a show by themselves,” he teases, smirking. “But seriously—thanks for sparing us the rest.”

As the last few crew members file out, tossing in good-natured jabs and rolling their eyes, Jeff gives Steve a pat on the back. “You’ve got him all to yourself now, Harrington,” he says with a smirk. “Don’t wear him out too much. We’ve still got another show tomorrow.”

And with a final chorus of laughter and a few mock wolf whistles, the door swings shut, leaving them in blissful privacy.

Steve sighs, his forehead still resting against Eddie’s, his own grin breaking through as they’re finally alone. “Well,” he murmurs, voice low, “now, where were we?”

“You mean before you were trying to ravage me in front of our friends?” Eddie says with a shit-eating grin, as if Steve were the only one acting like a love-struck teenager.

Read the rest on AO3

For everyone who rather reads on here, have the whole fic under the cut.

Phoenix

The arena is almost silent as the lights go out, the applause fading into a hush as everyone around him holds their breath. It’s as if they’ve all merged into one living entity, one organism waiting for the band to return and deliver the encore they’re all craving.

Corroded Coffin’s encores have become legendary among their fans. Mostly because of Eddie.

Of course.

Steve can’t blame them. He’s never been able to take his eyes off him either. In any room, no matter what was happening, the moment Eddie came alive, when that inner light blazed through, Steve was captivated. It’s no surprise he isn’t the only one, but he finds comfort in knowing he was one of the first.

They all fell in love with Eddie Munson, the rock star. Steve fell in love with Eddie Munson, the nerd. The part-time drug dealer, the super senior, the dungeon master. He fell for the brave man who was willing to die for a town that hated him and the man his kids trusted and looked up to.

That very man is now strutting back onto the stage, his silhouette barely visible in the dim twilight of the arena. But Steve would recognize him anywhere. Besides, he knows what’s coming—he’s heard Eddie excitedly ramble about his plans while they lay in bed, Eddie’s head resting in Steve’s lap as his fingers combed through damp curls, untangling them before they dried after his shower.

This is the first time they’re playing this particular song, Phoenix. It’s about someone dying so they can finally live, and only their tight-knit circle knows just how much truth is behind it. The song is Eddie’s way of processing what happened during that fateful week in the spring of '86. But, like most of Eddie’s songs, it’s also a love song.

A love song for Steve.

Eddie sings about a man burning in hell to rise from the ashes, hands lifting him to soar again, flying higher and higher, fueled by love instead of air beneath his wings. It’s classic Eddie—telling Steve he loves him in front of thousands of people, with words that sound like they’re straight out of one of those fantasy novels Eddie and the kids all love so much.

The whole band is on fire—literally—because their show features some wild pyro effects. Steve hadn’t been thrilled when Eddie first floated the idea of setting parts of the stage ablaze. He was even less enthusiastic when Gareth and Eddie began talking about adding flames to their outfits. To Steve, that was practically asking for disaster. But, as usual, he hadn’t been able to resist Eddie’s big brown puppy eyes for long.

Now, watching them perform, Steve has to admit it works. The fire dances across the stage in time with the music, bursts of flame punctuating every explosive guitar riff. Smoke swirls in sync with the pounding drums, and sparks rain down like stars during the climactic solo, making it feel as though the whole arena is caught in the heat of the moment. It’s pure chaos, and yet, somehow, it’s beautiful.

As Phoenix reaches its crescendo, Eddie steps into the heart of the flames, the light catching his silhouette as though he’s rising from the ashes himself. His voice soars above the roaring crowd, each note carrying both the weight of the past and the promise of a future. The audience, already mesmerized, holds its breath as Eddie holds the final note, arms outstretched, as if he’s daring the fire to consume him.

There’s a beat of stunned silence, and then the whole arena erupts into a roaring applause. People are whistling and cheering, Steve among them. Sue him, but even after a year of doing this with Eddie, he’s still in awe of how good Eddie and the other guys are. They’re a garage band from some small town in bumfuck Indiana, but the moment they step on stage, they have the crowd completely under their spell. Steve had read an article about Corroded Coffin that said all guys want to be them and all girls want to be their lovers.

He disagrees. He’s pretty sure some of these girls wouldn’t mind rocking on stage themselves, and Steve knows from experience that some of the guys definitely want to be their boyfriends, too.

The only difference between Steve and those guys? While they all want Eddie, Steve is the one who gets to take him home every night.

How he got so lucky is still beyond him. For months, Steve had been convinced he’d ruined everything between them before they ever got a real chance. And now he’s the one Eddie Munson calls sweetheart, darling, princess. The one he calls Love.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, you’ve been wonderful tonight. Your high esteem has fed us well, and we’ll repay the favor with another firestorm of a concert very soon. So keep your eyes peeled for the announcement. Until then, remember to be the menaces you’re meant to be, and rock on! We are Corroded Coffin, the devil’s own jesters, and this has been another glorious night of our Rituals tour!”

The lights go out after Eddie’s final words, and with another round of thunderous applause, a single spotlight highlights each band member, giving them their moment to shine before darkness swallows the stage. Steve knows it gives the band time to slip away before the crowd starts to disperse.

Back when Steve first started at their shows as a roadie, a fan had somehow tricked security into believing she was part of the crew. In the general chaos of people leaving, no one questioned her as she followed them all the way to the green room. She’d launched herself at Eddie, knocking him over onto the hard concrete. He’d only ended up with a few bruises, but he hit his head, and the headache lasted well into the next day, making him feel miserable. Worse still, it made his old scars ache in sympathy.

Steve had been livid.

After, Steve had been adamant that the band needed to invest in more security—less access for the public, stricter controls, the whole nine yards. Eddie, Frank, and Jeff didn’t want to hear any of it. To Steve’s surprise, it was Gareth who found a compromise for them. The head start they get now is part of it. Another is the presence of Sam and James, two guys built like tanks, who travel with the band and keep things secure backstage, on the tour bus, and everywhere in between.

Except for Eddie, who’s Steve’s to keep safe—and he takes that job seriously.

Which is why he packs up on stage as fast as humanly possible, only to be shooed away by Anna, the head of stage design. She oversees cleanup and can tell Steve is practically vibrating out of his skin to get to Eddie.

“You’re stressing me the hell out, Harrington. Go check on your man before you have a heart attack or something equally dramatic that’ll keep us here longer than necessary. And take that amp with you—put those guns to use,” she adds, gesturing at his biceps.

It’s a testament to how desperately he wants to see Eddie that he doesn’t protest, just salutes her and grabs the amp. “Thanks, Anna. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, waving him off. “To be young and in love again.”

“You’re 34, not ancient.”

“I’m not Munson, Harrington—flattery doesn’t work on me. Now shoo, before I change my mind and leave you to clean up the whole stage yourself.”

That's all the encouragement he needs to make a hasty retreat. As fast as he can, he heads backstage to the green room, where the band is no doubt coming down from their post-show high.

As Steve nears the green room, he can already hear laughter and excited chatter. Eddie’s voice rings out the loudest—it always does—but he can also pick out Jeff’s deep rumble and Gareth’s indignant “Oi!” He’s probably been teased again. The happy sounds make Steve pick up his pace, and as he rounds the last corner, he nearly barrels into Sam.

“Careful, Ozzy,” Sam laughs, dodging aside with surprising grace for someone his size. When Steve had first started tagging along, the crew had looked a little skeptical of his preppy outfits, which stuck out among the metalheads and crew members, who dress more for comfort and utility. Eddie, in his usual fashion, had vouched for him, regaling everyone with a heavily edited story about how Steve had once bitten the head off a bat to save them. Steve's scars, which matched Eddie's own, had helped sell the story. It had earned him coolness points and the nickname "Ozzy”.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. You probably wouldn’t even feel it if I charged you with a battering ram.”

“Stop flirting with my boyfriend, Ozzy,” comes James’ teasing voice. “I think you’ve got your hands full with your own.” Steve knows James isn’t actually jealous—anyone with eyes can see he’s completely gone on Eddie. Robin’s words, not his. She’d visited them about three months ago during a break in the tour and had teased him mercilessly. Steve plans to return the favor once she finds someone who steals her heart. It’s what best friends do.

“Speaking of—think you could open the door for me?” Steve nods at the amp he’s still carrying. “My hands are full, and this thing’s getting heavy.”

“Sure thing,” Sam says, already moving to open the door as James smirks at Steve.

“Your game’s slipping, Oz. Pretty soon you won’t even be able to toss Munson around.”

“What a sad day that would be,” chimes a familiar voice as the door swings open, revealing Eddie’s grinning face. He winks at Steve. “But that day’ll never come, right, big boy?”

“Never,” Steve promises as he sets the amp down and immediately sweeps Eddie off his feet, pulling him into his arms. Eddie whoops loudly, then breaks into manic laughter, clearly riding high on adrenaline and endorphins.

Steve lets Eddie slide down his body, his hands resting firmly on Eddie’s hips, holding him close as Eddie beams down at him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie says, voice warm and a bit breathless.

“Hey, baby. You look happy.”

Leaning in until their noses are almost touching, Eddie grins and says, “That’s because I am! Did you see us, Stevie? We rocked! I told you, Phoenix needed fire. They loved it, didn’t they?”

Steve rubs their noses together, his heart swelling at how excited—and just plain adorable—Eddie is after a good show.

“They loved you,” he says proudly, his voice going rough. “But they can’t have you.”

Eddie’s grin turns mischievous. “Oh? Is that so?”

“Yes,” Steve almost growls. He knows exactly where this is headed, but he can’t resist. Something about the way Eddie commands the stage and the way people respond to him always stirs Steve’s more possessive side.

Good thing Eddie loves it.

“And why is that?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer, but playing along. It feels like they’re the only two in the room, though Steve knows everyone else is well-accustomed to their little ritual by now.

Another growl rises in Steve’s chest. “Because you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” Eddie agrees, and finally leans in to kiss him.

It stays gentle and innocent for all of five seconds before Eddie, ever the troublemaker, lets out a quiet moan against Steve’s lips. It’s a sound that’s practically Pavloved Steve into instant reaction; he bites down on Eddie’s lower lip, slipping his tongue into Eddie’s willing mouth when he gasps in response. The familiar shock of Eddie’s tongue piercing, cool and metallic against his own tongue, is addictive, a reminder of just how intoxicatingly Eddie he is. And as soon as he catches that taste of energy drink Eddie always downs like water before a show, Steve is completely done for.

He couldn’t say exactly why—certainly not in this moment, when he’s all lust and love and instinct, and not even later when his head isn’t so full of EddieEddieEddie. Maybe it’s because that taste, coupled with the playful brush of that piercing, makes everything feel so real. Tangible. No one else knows the slightly off-putting tang of that artificial drink on Eddie’s tongue, or the way the cold steel feels against his lip as Eddie’s tongue brushes past it. It’s not something he could’ve imagined back when he used to daydream about kissing Eddie in Hawkins, when they’d still been circling each other. Watching, waiting, pining.

They let themselves get carried away, hands wandering over sweat-soaked clothes, slipping beneath them and feeling slick skin, neither of them having had a moment to shower or change. Not that they care. They’ve seen, touched, tasted each other like this a hundred times, and to Steve, it’s just one more part of this that feels undeniable. Real.

Eddie’s right hand finds its way into Steve’s hair, gripping just the right amount of tight, while his other hand explores the skin beneath Steve’s tank top. His fingers skim along the waistband of Steve’s pants, light and teasing, and it’s maddening how much Steve wants him to dive deeper, to put those skilled fingers to use. Steve’s own hands are busy, shoved down the back pockets of Eddie’s nearly scandalous leather pants, kneading the flesh beneath as he pulls Eddie even closer.

It’s only when Eddie slips a leg between Steve’s spread ones, his thigh pressing deliciously against him, that Steve feels his knees go weak. Pulling away from Eddie’s mouth takes what feels like Herculean strength, and he only just manages to break the kiss, his forehead pressed to his boyfriend’s as they both pant, breaths coming in heavy and warm. The sound is loud enough to almost drown out the creaking of someone shifting in an old chair nearby.

That’s when Steve remembers they’re not alone in the room.

A loud throat-clearing cuts through the haze, and Steve opens his eyes to see Gareth, sitting with a wicked grin, tossing a crumpled-up piece of paper at Eddie’s back. “Oi, lovebirds,” he says, “save those bedroom eyes for the actual bedroom, Munson.”

Eddie grins, unashamed, flashing Gareth a mock salute. “I don’t need a bedroom for bedroom activities, losers.”

Jeff leans casually against the wall, arms crossed, smirking. “Can’t say I’m surprised. You two always manage to bring your own kind of encore,” he teases, waggling his eyebrows in a way that’s both exaggerated and somehow fond.

From across the room, their sound tech, Lucy, chuckles as she shoves a bag into her duffel. “Guess the ‘Phoenix’ isn’t the only thing heating up tonight,” she jokes, grinning at Steve’s half-embarrassed, half-amused expression.

“And he'll rise again and again and again,” tones Frank’s dry voice, making Eddie cackle and waggle his eyebrows at Steve.

Jeff groans at the horrible innuendos. “Don’t mind us, we’re heading out anyway. Figured we’d leave you two to, ah, continue the celebration?”

Eddie flashes them all a shameless grin, winking as he wraps an arm around Steve’s waist. “You all sound jealous,” he quips, barely missing a beat.

Gareth laughs, grabbing his jacket. “Oh, trust me, I’m good. Those pants are enough of a show by themselves,” he teases, smirking. “But seriously—thanks for sparing us the rest.”

As the last few crew members file out, tossing in good-natured jabs and rolling their eyes, Jeff gives Steve a pat on the back. “You’ve got him all to yourself now, Harrington,” he says with a smirk. “Don’t wear him out too much. We’ve still got another show tomorrow.”

And with a final chorus of laughter and a few mock wolf whistles, the door swings shut, leaving them in blissful privacy.

Steve sighs, his forehead still resting against Eddie’s, his own grin breaking through as they’re finally alone. “Well,” he murmurs, voice low, “now, where were we?”

“You mean before you were trying to ravage me in front of our friends?” Eddie says with a shit-eating grin, as if Steve were the only one acting like a love-struck teenager. Steve would be more annoyed if it weren’t for the happy flutter in his chest when Eddie says, “our friends.” An image flashes through his mind, unbidden—Dustin, animated and in charge, leading a round of their fantasy game, the same one Eddie used to lead. Steve remembers watching, his heart aching like an open wound, because by then, Eddie had been gone for three months.

Steve had let him go.

Eddie had asked Steve to come with him, his head on Steve’s chest as they lay tangled in Eddie’s bed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I have to go, Stevie. This town is killing me. But I don’t want to go without you. Please, come with me. Let us be free together.”

But Steve had said no. He'd told himself it was for the kids, that they needed someone to stay and look after them. But deep down he knew that wasn't the real reason. At least not the whole reason. He didn't say no because he didn't want to go with Eddie, but because he wanted it too much. Wanting things, wanting people too much had left its mark, and some of those scars still ached some days, worse than his physical ones, the phantom pain of a broken heart and shattered dreams. Eddie had asked him why, his voice trembling, and Steve had lied, making Eddie believe there was nothing between them that warranted uprooting his whole life. It was the only way to set Eddie free, even if it meant breaking both their hearts. His own fears and insecurities were not going to be the thing that stopped Eddie from making his own dreams come true.

“I think I was telling you about the show,” Eddie says, breaking Steve from the painful memory with a grin. “What’d you think, Stevie? Rockstar-worthy?”

The question brings him back, though the ache of the past lingers in his chest. His voice is quieter, more earnest than he intended. “More than that. I always knew you were born for this, Eds. That people should hear your stories, see you, and the wonder you are.”

He knows he’s gone too deep, missed the playful mark by a mile. But Eddie, who’s all brashness and boldness on the surface, can read Steve better than anyone. Sensing the shift, he meets Steve’s gaze with a softness that’s rare and achingly sincere.

“I only ever needed one person to see me, Stevie.”

Now, Steve believes Eddie. It hadn’t always been like that, though. He’d struggled to accept that Eddie truly wanted him—Steve Harrington, the guy who’d peaked in high school, who didn’t have much to show now that the world wasn’t ending and no one needed him to swing his nail-studded bat, or throw himself between monsters and the people he loved.

His doubts had almost cost him the chance to be loved the way he’d always dreamed.

Gazing into Eddie’s warm, dark eyes, filled with so much love and sincerity it almost hurt to look at, Steve decided to push down the strange wave of melancholy that had crept over him. Eddie was here, they were here, and Steve wasn’t going to waste another second thinking about the past and the what-ifs. He’d focus instead on showing Eddie just how rockstar-worthy he truly was.

“Is that so?” Steve asks, his tone coy as he ducks his head just enough to look up at Eddie from beneath his lashes. His fingers trail slowly up Eddie’s stomach and chest, and with his voice dropping to a low, inviting register, he murmurs, “What if he wants to see more of you?”

Eddie searches his face, the shift in mood not lost on him. For a moment, it looks like he’s deciding whether to let Steve get away with it or press him about the strange melancholy that had surfaced just moments ago. But then a slow smile spreads across those full lips, and Steve feels the thrill of Eddie giving in.

“Mmm,” Eddie muses aloud, his gaze mischievous. “I think he’ll have to wait for that. Earn it, really.”

“How?” Steve asks, his voice barely more than a breath, eager and completely captivated.

Eddie leans in, nosing his way along the line of Steve’s jaw until he reaches his ear. “Be a good boy, of course.”

A shiver ripples through Steve’s body, though he couldn’t say if it’s from Eddie’s warm breath on that sensitive patch of skin or from the words themselves.

Steve’s breath hitches, and he fights to keep his composure, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And if I’m not?” he teases, his voice low but challenging, tilting his head to give Eddie even better access to his neck.

Eddie chuckles, his lips ghosting just below Steve’s ear. “Then I’ll have to remind you who’s in charge here,” he murmurs, voice warm and rough, a promise wrapped in mischief.

Steve lets out a shaky laugh, his fingers curling into the leather of Eddie’s jacket. “Guess I’ll have to be extra good, then,” he replies, his tone daring but with that undeniable note of surrender only Eddie could pull from him.

The sharp nip of Eddie’s teeth sinking into the tender skin just above Steve’s pulse point quickly gives way to pleasure as his tongue soothes over the bite. “That’s right,” Eddie murmurs against the spit-slick skin, his voice low and warm. “So be a good boy and lay down on that amp you oh-so-helpfully carried in here.”

It takes Steve a beat to process, his brain a little scrambled from the emotional whiplash of the past few moments—pride, love, possessiveness, melancholy, lust, and back to love, all tumbling through him. He blinks up at Eddie, parsing out the command, and Eddie arches an eyebrow, giving the amp a pointed look.

With a playful bite of his lower lip, Steve nods and, after stealing one more quick kiss, saunters over, hips swaying just enough to make Eddie’s gaze darken. The back-and-forth between them is new to Steve, something he never had with the girls he dated before, this easy way they can trade roles, each giving and taking as they like, slipping between comfort and thrill with ease.

Right now, Steve’s perfectly ready to take whatever Eddie has in mind.

The amp’s just high enough that he doesn’t have to contort too much to lie on it, bracing his upper body on his forearms comfortably. Not exactly nap material, but he isn’t here to relax. It lets him tilt his hips, though, and he pushes his ass out in invitation, casting a look over his shoulder to find Eddie watching him with wide, hungry eyes, his hand pressed firmly against himself.

“You wanna take a picture?” Steve teases, wiggling his ass with a grin. “Or are you finally gonna put your money where your mouth is?”

Eddie’s startled laugh echoes in the empty room, and Steve’s grin widens, his heart racing at how fun it is to let loose with Eddie like this.

At last Eddie moves, taking off his leather jacket before closing the distance between them, and his hands settle on Steve's hips, firm and possessive. “Oh, I’m definitely putting my mouth somewhere, princess.”

With a teasing slowness, Eddie’s hands slide from Steve’s hips around to his front, fingers working open the button on his cargo pants. He takes his time, drawing out each motion—the button popping, the zipper sliding down, every small movement building up the anticipation until the air between them practically hums. Bit by bit, Eddie tugs Steve’s pants and underwear down over his hips, savoring every inch of skin he exposes to the cool air and his hungry gaze.

Steve’s patience frays fast, and with a breathless whine, he finally mutters, “Eddie, come on.”

Eddie just chuckles, then nips at the small heart-shaped tattoo on Steve's left buttock. While Eddie's body is littered with black ink, this is Steve's only one so far. Eddie had talked Steve into it when he came with him to get the Phoenix tattooed on his left arm. “I’m unwrapping my favorite present here, babe. Gotta savor it.”

Steve barely has time to roll his eyes before Eddie’s mouth descends once again, and this time it’s warm lips and tongue tracing a slow line along the curve of his lower back, licking up the faint sheen of sweat gathered there. The heat of Eddie’s mouth steals the words right from him, and instead a rough “Fuck” slips out, loud and unfiltered.

“That’s the idea, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, sounding downright smug. “But first? I’m treating myself to a sweet little appetizer.”

Steve finds out exactly what Eddie means when his tongue dips lower, slipping between his cheeks with a slow, tantalizing precision. His pants are still bunched around his upper thighs, limiting his movement, but as always, Eddie makes the most of the space he has.

The heat of Eddie’s tongue leaves a burning trail down his skin, edging closer to where Steve wants him most, while Eddie’s hands grip his hips and pull up his tank top, his hold firm and anchoring, as if grounding them both in the pleasure building between them. But just as Steve expects Eddie to go further, he pulls back, taking his time sliding Steve’s pants all the way off, leaving him bare from the waist down.

“God, would you look at this? Fuck, I still can’t believe it sometimes,” Eddie mutters, his voice thick with reverence. “Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson gets to have the most gorgeous guy in the world. Part of me wishes I could show you off to everyone right now, do this to you up on stage, so they’d know exactly how lucky I am.”

The thought sends a thrill through Steve—a fantasy he’s toyed with more than once. It’s one of those ideas they’ll never act on, but one that he loves to imagine just the same.

“But hey, this is the next best thing,” Eddie continues, still kneeling behind him, his hands sliding up Steve’s legs, fingertips pressing into the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. “Right here, where anyone could walk in, could see you with your ass up like this for me. And they’d be so damn jealous. But they don’t get you—you’re mine, just like I’m yours.”

As if sealing his words, Eddie spreads him open and lets a warm trail of saliva slide down, glistening as it slips toward his entrance. Steve can’t see him from this angle, but he can feel Eddie’s gaze, heavy and possessive, just before he leans back in, his tongue pressing deep, the metal of his piercing gracing the sensitive skin of his entrance, sending a shiver down Steve’s spine.

Steve feels like he’s going out of his mind, the way Eddie holds him down, keeping his hips pinned firmly in place, letting Steve have only as much as he’s willing to give. It’s torture—he wants to push back, to make Eddie’s tongue delve deeper, faster. But Eddie’s having none of it. For all his usual impatience and impulsiveness, in moments like this, Eddie becomes a master of restraint, driving Steve up the wall with it.

It’s infuriating. It’s maddening. It’s also the single hottest thing Steve’s ever experienced.

His breathing is rough, coming in shallow pants that mix with the filthy, wet sounds filling the room as he loses himself in the relentless, almost lazy pace Eddie keeps. Eddie’s tongue teases, sliding in with agonizing slowness, while his content, low hums add a pulse of heat through Steve’s body. Eddie pauses now and then to add more spit, until Steve’s slick, almost dripping, every nerve thrumming with need.

“Edd-die,” he gasps, his voice thin with desperation, almost lost beneath the steady, obscene rhythm. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

He’s shamelessly begging now, but doesn’t care. Eddie lives to hear him beg, and maybe, just maybe, Steve can get what he wants, too.

Eddie chuckles low, his tone one of pure satisfaction. “Please what, my love?”

Of course, he’d make Steve say it. Typical. Alright then, two can play this game, Steve thinks and decides to see just how steady Eddie’s self-control really is.

“Please,” he says, his tone turning breathy, edging into desperate pleading. “Please, give me that thick cock. Fill me so deep I can taste it. Make me take it, make me yours. Make me forget everything—everyone—but you, fucking me so good.”

Eddie growls, the sound low and guttural, and Steve smirks, triumphant.

Checkmate.

A finger suddenly presses at his entrance, sliding in easily where he’s already loose and wet from Eddie’s mouth and tongue. Steve arches back, pushing onto the finger, forcing it deeper with a groan that earns him a low chuckle.

“So greedy,” Eddie murmurs, his voice thick with approval as he works his finger in and out with a steady rhythm. Soon, he adds a second finger, stretching him open, sliding in with only the slightest resistance. There’s a slow burn, one he welcomes, letting it remind him how real this all is.

“Look at you,” Eddie muses, voice dark and low. “So needy, taking it so well. I wanted to take my time with you tonight—take you apart, bit by bit, until you were wrecked.” He pauses, letting his fingers curl inside. “But you just wouldn’t let me, huh?”

Steve shudders, Eddie’s words digging deeper than his touch, leaving him desperate and tingling all over. Eddie’s tone is playful, a tease threaded with adoration, and Steve knows he’s on the edge of getting everything he wants, even if Eddie just can’t resist drawing it out. Clenching down on Eddie’s fingers, he says with a challenging grin, “There’s lube in my pocket. Right side.”

Eddie’s breath hitches, his fingers stilling just for a moment before he drops his forehead onto the small of Steve’s back with a heartfelt groan. “You’ll be the death of me, Stevie. God, I love you.”

Steve laughs, even as his voice comes out shaky. “I love you, too. Now, would you please hurry up and fuck me already before I die of old age?”

Eddie’s laugh vibrates against his spine as he reaches down and into Steve’s pocket, retrieving the lube with a triumphant little sound. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry. I’m about to make sure every second counts.”

Steve is counting on it.

He watches as Eddie tears open the corner of the small lube satchel with his teeth, his other hand still buried deep inside Steve. Their eyes lock, and Eddie throws him a cheeky wink before drizzling the cool liquid directly over where his fingers are working him open. The sharp contrast of the chill against his heated skin sends a shiver racing up Steve’s spine.

Eddie spreads the lube with practiced ease, his thumb joining in to work it deeper. His movements are confident, deliberate, and Steve can’t help but marvel at how well they’ve come to know each other’s bodies. He thinks back to their first time: the fumbling hands, lube smeared everywhere, hesitant stops and whispered reassurances, mixed with laughter and tender kisses. Now, there’s a rhythm between them, a deep familiarity that doesn’t dull the edge of excitement but makes it sweeter, more profound.

Steve’s awareness narrows to the sensation of Eddie’s fingers stroking inside him, teasing just right. Meanwhile, Eddie’s mouth and tongue explore every inch of skin they can reach, leaving trails of wet heat in their wake. Time becomes meaningless, and Steve lets go completely, unbothered by the sounds spilling from his lips or how desperately he’s moving into Eddie’s touch. He’s pliant, undone, surrendering himself fully to the moment.

And then, suddenly, Eddie’s fingers withdraw. Steve lets out a whine of protest, his body already aching for more.

Placing a soothing kiss over Steve’s heart tattoo, Eddie murmurs, “Shhh, sweetheart, I’m just giving you what you want.”

Anticipation coils tight in Steve’s belly as the emptiness makes him hyper-aware of every nerve ending. Seconds stretch into agonizing hours before he feels the thick head of Eddie’s cock pressing against his slick entrance.

“Ready, love?” Eddie asks, his voice low and warm.

“Please,” Steve breathes, his entire body taut with need.

Eddie doesn’t waste another moment. He pushes in slowly, steadily, until his hips are flush against Steve’s. Even with the careful preparation and Steve’s eagerness, it’s still a lot, and he sucks in a sharp breath, needing a moment to adjust. Sensing this, Eddie stills, his hand sliding forward to find Steve’s. He intertwines their fingers, squeezing gently, a silent reminder that they’re in this together.

A bead of sweat trickles down Steve’s temple as he exhales deliberately, forcing his body to relax. He squeezes Eddie’s hand in return, grounding himself in the connection.

“I’m ready,” he says softly, his voice steady. “You can move.”

Months ago, Eddie might have asked again, just to be sure, but now he trusts Steve’s word implicitly. He responds with a reassuring squeeze to Steve’s hip before pulling out almost entirely and sinking back in just as slowly. The deliberate drag of Eddie’s cock has Steve’s nerves sparking like live wires, every inch of the stretch intense and maddeningly good.

Steve lifts their joined hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s knuckles. His voice comes out wrecked, raw with need.

“Faster,” he pleads, his breath hitching. “Please.”

As much as Eddie loves to tease, drawing out both their pleasure until Steve feels like he’s teetering on the edge of madness, he loves giving Steve what he wants even more. And tonight, Steve has been a very good boy—just like Eddie had asked. So when Eddie withdraws again only to slam back in without hesitation, setting a relentless pace, Steve knows this is his reward.

“Fuck, how are you always so tight?” Eddie mutters, his voice hoarse and awestruck.

The question isn’t meant to be answered, and Steve is far too gone to respond anyway. Instead, he pushes back into every thrust, letting the intense, repeated sensation of Eddie filling him wipe away any semblance of coherent thought. His cock hangs heavy and aching, no doubt dripping pre-cum onto the floor beneath them. For a fleeting moment, a hysterical image pops into his head: one of them slipping in it, both crashing down, stark naked.

But then Eddie’s next thrust slams right into his prostate, obliterating the thought entirely. What escapes Steve’s lips isn’t laughter but a long, shameless moan.

“There—fuck, there,” he gasps, his voice raw with need, urging Eddie to do it again.

Eddie doesn’t disappoint. Now that he’s found the perfect angle, his thrusts hit that spot with precision, sending sharp jolts of pleasure coursing through Steve’s body. Each impact wrings high-pitched, breathless ah, ah, ahs from him as he clings to the amp for stability, every muscle taut and trembling. The pleasure is building fast, a searing heat that coils tight in his belly, but it’s not enough.

Steve’s cock pulses painfully, desperate for attention, but he can’t reach it. His arms are trapped beneath him, and trying to shift even a fraction risks toppling them both. The need is maddening, almost unbearable, and his whimpers grow louder as frustration mixes with the overwhelming stimulation.

When the constant onslaught skirts the edge of too much, his moans turn to pleading whines, raw and vulnerable. He’s close, so close, but he needs just a little more.

“Shhh,” Eddie coos, slowing his thrusts as his hand rubs soothing circles over Steve’s back. “What is it, baby?”

The change in pace gives Steve a reprieve from the relentless pounding against his prostate. He sags forward, caught in the strange limbo of both relief and frustration, his need to come still burning hot and bright in his groin.

“I’m so close, but I need…” he trails off, his voice cracking with emotion. The sound mortifies him, and the tears edging into his tone threaten to spill over. Eddie stills entirely, his concern immediate.

“What do you need? I’ll give you everything, love, anything you want.” Before Steve can manage a response, Eddie drapes himself over his back, the weight of him grounding, the motion pushing him deeper inside. His lips brush the shell of Steve’s ear, and he whispers, “You need my hand? Want me to touch that pretty cock of yours, gorgeous?”

Steve lets out a soft, desperate whine, his body trembling. It’s all the answer Eddie needs.

Eddie’s arm snakes around Steve’s chest, his palm resting gently against his throat—not squeezing, just holding, steadying him. His other hand slides down and wraps around Steve’s aching cock. Steve shudders at the first firm stroke, the slickness of pre-cum making each movement smooth and electric.

“I—I won’t last long,” Steve manages, his voice wrecked as the coil in his belly winds tighter with each pump of Eddie’s hand.

Eddie nips at Steve’s earlobe, his voice rough with lust. “Don’t worry, baby. Me neither. I’ve been on edge since you walked in carrying that stupid amp, wearing that indecent outfit, showing off those arms like some kind of wet dream.”

Despite the intensity of the moment, Steve laughs, the motion jolting Eddie’s cock inside him. He clenches involuntarily, drawing a deep moan from Eddie that vibrates against his skin. “What the hell is indecent about a black tank top and cargo pants?”

“You wearing them.” Eddie’s tone is all duh, and it sends another wave of laughter spilling from Steve’s lips.

“You fucking sap,” Steve teases, the love in his voice unmistakable.

“Oh no, you’re fucking a sap, sweetheart,” Eddie shoots back, his cheekiness undiminished. “Now, how about you take what you need, huh? Fuck yourself on my cock, use my hand while you’re at it.”

Only Eddie could turn cheesy banter into something this hot, and Steve has no intention of arguing.

With Eddie’s arm propping him up, Steve finds just enough leverage to move. He thrusts forward into Eddie’s hand, the tight circle of his boyfriend’s fingers sparking pleasure through him, before shifting back to impale himself again. He angles his hips, seeking that perfect spot, brushing it just enough to send sparks shooting up his spine. Combined with the steady friction of Eddie’s hand, it’s almost too much to bear.

The improvised rhythm of his movements grows frantic as he races toward the edge. Behind him, Eddie’s breaths come hot and fast against his neck, and his grip tightens, keeping Steve grounded even as he comes undone.

“You’re so sexy, baby,” Eddie pants, his voice raw with emotion and lust. “Fuck, I’m the luckiest guy alive. I love you so much.”

Trust Eddie to pour his heart out in the middle of this. And trust Steve to have those words be what finally pushes him over the edge.

Steve’s orgasm tears through him like a wildfire, leaving him shaking and breathless. It feels like it goes on forever, each wave dragging him deeper into a blissful haze until his legs threaten to buckle beneath him. Eddie’s arms tighten around him, steadying him as he continues thrusting, fucking Steve through his release, drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

When the high begins to fade, Steve’s nerves flare with overstimulation. Eddie’s movements, once perfect, now teeter on the edge of too much. A shudder ripples through Steve, a mix of cooling sweat and discomfort making him tremble.

Eddie stills immediately, in tune with him as always. “Want me to pull out?” he asks softly. “I can finish in my hand. Two pulls, max.” His voice is gentle, full of love and concern, and it makes Steve’s heart ache in the best way.

“No,” Steve murmurs, voice still shaky. “I want to feel it. Want to know I’m yours—wet and dripping with your cum while we walk to the car.”

“Jesus, Stevie,” Eddie groans, his hips twitching involuntarily.

“Come on, baby,” Steve encourages, voice husky and teasing. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

That’s all Eddie needs. He grips Steve tighter, hauling him upright so their bodies are flush. His chest presses against Steve’s back, his arm locks around Steve’s waist, and he moves with renewed intensity. Eddie’s hips snap against him, each thrust urgent, driven by need and love. He buries his face in Steve’s neck, grunting and panting, entirely lost in the moment.

It doesn’t take long. Eddie’s rhythm falters, his breath catching. “Fuck, Steve—fuckfuckfuck,” he groans, voice breaking as he spills inside him, warmth flooding between them.

They collapse together, Steve barely catching himself on trembling arms before he face-plants into the amp. Eddie slumps against him, muttering a soft, “Sorry—can’t feel my legs.”

Steve bursts into laughter, his body shaking with it. Eddie joins in moments later, his laugh raspy and infectious. The movement dislodges Eddie’s softening cock, and Steve grimaces at the inevitable sensation of cum leaking out. It’s a mess, but he wouldn’t change a thing.

After a few beats of shared laughter and steadying breaths, Eddie peels off his own shirt, using it to clean them both.

“You’ll get cold,” Steve says, voice softer now, even as he leans into Eddie’s tender touches.

“I’ve got you to keep me warm, don’t I?” Eddie quips with a grin.

“Only if you cuddle me first,” Steve counters, mock-serious. “You can’t just use me for my body heat. I have standards, you know.”

“Sure you do, sweetheart,” Eddie replies with a chuckle, pulling Steve into his arms and leading them toward the worn couch in the corner of the room. They sink down together, Eddie sprawling on his back with Steve sprawled across him, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces.

They continue to lay there, tangled together in the lazy, sated warmth of post-coital bliss. Steve is already half-asleep, his head resting on Eddie’s chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of Eddie’s heartbeat and the gentle stroke of his fingers through Steve’s hair. Eddie presses a kiss to his temple, a smile tugging at his lips as he breaks the comfortable silence.

“So,” Eddie begins, his voice soft, curious, “you gonna tell me what had you in such a weird mood earlier?”

Steve hums, the sound vibrating through Eddie’s chest. He considers brushing it off, but Eddie’s been patient, and he deserves the truth. “Got an invitation from Dustin and the kids,” Steve says finally. “To their graduation. It’s for both of us, actually.”

Eddie stills, his hand pausing mid-stroke. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his voice low. “Made me think about stuff, I guess. Like… leaving Hawkins. Leaving them.” He tilts his head to look up at Eddie, his expression thoughtful. “And whether I regret it.”

Eddie’s breath catches, his hand resuming its motion in Steve’s hair as he braces himself for Steve’s answer. “Do you?”

Steve doesn’t hesitate. “No. Not even for a second.” He shifts so he can meet Eddie’s eyes fully, a soft smile curving his lips. “If anything, I’m grateful Dustin kicked my ass into following you. The little shit was right—they’re fine without me. But I’m not sure I’d have been okay if I stayed.”

Steve sits up slightly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Eddie’s chest, tracing tattoos and scars alike. “I’ve been thinking about how lucky I am. That I’m here. With you. That it all worked out the way it did.”

Eddie blinks, his throat working as he processes Steve’s words. “You’re not the only one who got lucky, Stevie,” he says, his voice tinged with raw honesty. “Leaving without you broke me. Felt like I’d left my heart in Hawkins while the rest of me moved to LA. The day you showed up? It was like the last puzzle piece finally slid into place. Like the universe had been holding its breath, waiting for us to figure it out.”

Steve’s smile widens, his hand cupping Eddie’s jaw as he leans up to press a tender kiss to his lips. “I love you,” he murmurs, the words soft but fierce, carrying every ounce of emotion he feels.

“I love you, too,” Eddie replies, his voice steady and sure, as if he’s been waiting his whole life to say it.

They settle back into each other’s arms, the greenroom quiet save for the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sounds of the venue being cleaned up. The world outside feels a million miles away, and for now, that’s exactly where it can stay.

Here, with Eddie, Steve is home.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Hello Dapper. I don’t really expect too much about this, but do you have any ideas for Wargs? They have an interesting relationship with goblins and are weird in that they’re essentially sapient wolf monsters, but I don’t think they’re ever really used that creatively.

Monsters Reimagined: Wargs, wolf panics, and the Economics of Lupophobia

While the surface level answer is pretty simple (warg is a conversion of varger, an old Norse way to refer to mythological wolves like Fenrir) there's actually a surprising amount of material to drill into here on the topic of sapient wolf monsters, especially for someone like me who has a interest in moral panics and mass hysteria events. Wolves were effectively a boogyman for pre-industrial societies, a deep seated generational fear that we only recognize today through cultural relics like the big bad wolf or boy who cried wolf.

TLDR: If you want to do something interesting with wargs beyond just "wolves that talk" I'd advise playing to their folk / fairytale roots. They're creatures of embodied dread, drawn from the stuff of the feywild to sow fear among those who would travel off the path or too close to the wilderness. This lets you tell interesting stories about how the party/major characters respond to fear: Does fear of being attacked in the dark drive the party to make risky decisions that might endanger their quest? How do the villagers react when the wolves are very literally at the door, demanding just one of their neighbours as a meal in exchange for safety?

I'd also advise getting weirder with a warg's powers, playing into that fear of the unknown by doing unexpected things. The party can fight off a pack of wolves, sure, but what does it mean when the lead wolf rips off the bard's shadow and takes off into the night?

Background: If you want a window into the headspace of wolf-panic, think about the neigh omnipresent fear of sharks created by the Jaws franchise. Children who have never seen the movie, let alone seen a shark in person can become irrationally afraid of getting into deep water because they've absorbed the pervasive cultural phobia, which goes onto shape environmental policy as sharks are overhunted or killed out of spite for their perceived threat.

So it was for wolves, even after they were largely hunted to near extinction by medieval and postmedieval societies, the fear of them was so ingrained into cultural traditions that wolf and werewolf panics were a thing that went hand in hand with witchtrails. France had a country wide one as late as the 1760s and the movie based on it ended up inspiring Bloodborne. Alternatively look at the anti-wolf efforts during the colonization of the Americas, right up to the opposition to reintroducing wolves back to Yellowstone park.

On that note (and because we can't have a Monsters Reimagined without some kind of class analysis), lets talk about how these fears are propagated: On many levels it makes sense for everyday people to be afraid of wolves, they're a hunting species that can absolutely pose a danger to us, and when you're living or travelling outside the protection of a settlement you really are vulnerable to a coordinated pack of carnivores running you down.

However, the primary threat that wolves pose to humans isn't predation, it's property damage, specifically in how they kill livestock. While we can talk about individual farmsteads beset by beasts, in reality the herds that wolves were most likely to prey upon belonged to the landowning classes, powerful people who had a profit incentive in seeing wolves driven off or exterminated. This is where you get bounties on dead wolves, not just paying for the value of the hide but actively rewarding people for going out and killing as many wolves as possible to the point of it becoming a profession. This practice has existed for MILLENIA and is still active today, primarily in places where big agriculture influences governments.

It seems incidental at first but then you realize that it fits the model of just about every other kind of cultural panic: widespread ignorance and fear that just so happens to mobilize the populace in a way that financially benefits a select few. You can see the same thing happening today in england with badgers of all things, which have been identified with the local dairy industry as a threat to their herds. This is not only led them to petition the government to cull the badger population, but to put out anti-badger propaganda, eventually turning it into a culture war issure to the point where conservative mouthpieces like Jeremy Clarkson openly encourages killing and gassing badgers on sight.

Returning to the land of fantasy for now: I think it's worth taking the idea of the warg and mixing it with a few other "black dog" cultural archetypes, which can also include the creatures like the shuck or church grimm. In this instance the warg is a sort of curse made manifest, the fear of a haunted place given literal teeth. People who transgress into these forbidden spaces find themselves pursued by a manifestation that dogs them till they're exhausted and vulnerable, much like a wolf harrying its prey.

The bhargest is also of special interest here, considering how I like to relate goblins back to the feywild. You could easily see bhargests as agents of fey that feed on human fear, leading a pack of goblins or hobs that occupy the desolate lands they've called to haunt. My version of Maglubiyet would also delight in employing such creatures as his emissaries.

Going back to the vargr/ Norse mythology angle, it's interesting that most of the wolves that show up are destined to devour something, whether it be a god or celestial certanty like the moon and sun. It's like the concept of an inevitable chase is so fundimental to what a wolf IS that it became a theme of ragnarok's inevitable certantly. Consider having certan packs of wargs be offspring of some fenrir style god eater, beasts of forboding doom who's mere presence is an omen of ill times.

Alternatively, if you wanted to play on the big bad wolf angle, give wargs the ability to take on flimsy human disguises, all the better to get close to their pray and sow fear among the townsfolk. Historical wolf panics after all are not all that different than serial killer panics, and it'd be a fun twist on a traditional werewolf adventure to have the party on a creature that didn't play by the usual lycanthropic rules.

Artsource

[quarterlifekitty]

Imagine an AU for cod— inspired Haunting Ground, but with a few twists.

Like a princess, you were born in a castle— one with many secrets. You didn’t know it then, but your father was a homunculus— the first to successfully be made with the alchemical essence of life, azoth. This gift was passed down to you, born when he fell in love with a human woman. When you were young, your father and mother fled the castle with you, and from then on you lived the normal life they’d wished for, losing almost all memory of the castle as time went on. Eventually, you regard it as a dream. Until the day of the accident, you and your parents in the car. You wake up in that same castle, with no escape in sight.

Phillip Graves fills Ricardo’s role. He’s the one that kidnapped you from the scene of the accident. He grew up with you for the short time you lived in the castle, feeling robbed when your parents took you away. In his mind, you were always promised to him. He’s a homunculus without azoth of his own, a failure. But now that he has you again, to keep at his side and breed, he can use your azoth to ensure his line continues.

König takes the role of Debilitas. A homunculus made with both human and a bit of wolf dog— he’s never been quite right in the head, but has more than enough mass and muscle to make up for it. He has precious little in this life, as a lifelong servant to the castle, but he does have a small cloth doll he carries with him everywhere. One you happen to resemble. He pursues you relentlessly— wanting to take you in his arms, precisely where his doll should be.

Ghost is in the role of Daniela. He knows not what he is, only that he is incomplete. He is not a full man, he cannot feel things the way a man should. He views you with a spiteful jealousy— you are a complete, beautiful being. You got to live outside, when he has spent his life in service of this castle, never knowing love or companionship. He sees how full of life you are— the glow of your skin and the shine of your hair and the joy in your rare smiles. He wants that to himself. If he is not complete then perhaps owning, mating with a complete being will make him so.

Soap is your Hewie. A man captured, like you, but for the purpose of alchemical testing. (He’s got some dog in him now because it’s my AU and I get to be insane). You see him locked up when you awake, and come across him later in the courtyard, his leg snared in a bear trap— his pain and weakness from being kept prisoner make him unable to free himself. You help him, and he becomes your loyal companion, shoving himself between you and any danger, defending you with his new teeth— those of a predator. The dog in him is in love with your scent, and easily bonded to you from your compassion. You’re his mate now— and he’s going to keep you safe at all costs.

Which leaves Price as Lorenzo. Watching you go through the castle, helping you and giving you warnings, ensuring your survival. He is another iteration of the alchemist who built this place, keeping himself alive and reborn through alchemy over centuries. He seeks eternal life and the endless pursuit of knowledge. He sees your intelligence and quick wit through how you solve the puzzles, navigate the labyrinthine castle, and evade capture again and again.

He was there when you were young, and even then he knew you were special. Now you’ve blossomed into something perfect and beautiful. You’re not meant to live outside of these walls, among the ordinary. He wants you here, with him, nestled into his side and apprentice in his research. He’ll even let you keep Soap, since you’ve grown so fond of him. Being born into this castle made you a part of this family, and he’ll be damned before he’ll see you separated from him again.

[nadas-dirthalen]

I Saw Solas's Origin in an Achievement Icon and It Opened My Eyes on 15 Years of Lore

— PART ONE —

[ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 9 ] [ 10 ]

Welcome, friends and travelers! I wanted to get some thoughts recorded before Veilguard's release so I could see if I am right about an absolute BOATLOAD of theories I have.

In short: I saw the achievement list when it was released. I have seen the backstory hints for Solas included in said list. AND MY MIND WAS BLOWN.

You have been warned: THIS COLLECTION OF THEORIES INCLUDES SPOILERS FOR EVERY DRAGON AGE GAME AND ALL PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL UP TO AND INCLUDING OCTOBER 18, 2024.

Come sit down with me. Make a nice cup of tea (and hide it from Solas). We've got a lot of unpacking to do.

(this photo isn't the spoiler, I just like it.)

On the docket for this post:

What are we actually seeing?

So what does that... mean?

Previous hints to this origin

What this implies for Solas's past and present

SO, without further ado...!

What Are We Actually Seeing?

So. First we need to briefly go over the details of what is IN this image, before anything else.

This memory is called Manifestation. That's as close to the word "Origin" as I've ever heard. Whatever we find here, it's going to tell us where Solas came from.

And what we do find had blown my mind wide open.

We see that the figure displayed is embedded in a stone ceiling. Its branches extend deep into the stone. It also has what looks (to us) like a tail extending below the ceiling, into the open space below. The tail also fans out into branches, like a long and bending twig. What does this remind me of?

Lyrium. Always depicted as coming out from The Stone, bending like twigs and branches into open air. We know now, Lyrium is the blood of the Titans.

The achievement icon's figure has six eyes at the top center, as well. And you know what those remind me of?

The Dread Wolf.

Put those together, and I have concluded: Solas was originally a part of a Titan. He was removed from this Titan and given physical shape.

So What Does This... Mean?

If we confirm that Solas is Titan-born, there are unending implications (and that's why this big collection of theories has six parts). For now, I'll go over the absolute most basic ones.

Solas has connections to a Titan, which has implications for his history, his magic, and every single one of his motivations and his relationships.

Solas was likely created/mined/taken/inspired by Mythal (more on that later). That means that she is the reason he has a body at all, and informs a lot of things about their relationship and, again, Solas's motivations.

Everything we know about the elves and the Evanuris has evolved. If everything they've done is related to the Titans, then every dwarf main is about to be screaming in glee during Veilguard.

Everything we know about the entire history of Thedas has new context. Again, hell yeah for everyone who wanted more dwarf/Titan lore!!

Understanding Solas's origin story is understanding Solas himself. Not only that, but the world he came from. Not only what he's doing now, but every historical reason behind why he chose to do what he has been doing all along.

In short, our entire understanding of Thedas has changed, because we know how one of its oldest beings came to be.

If all that seems like a lot right now, that's because it is. But think about it. Fen'Harel was the god who could walk among both godly clans. The one who could imprison both sets, away from each other.

Knowing what he comes from tells us a LOT about why "both clans" thought he belonged to them. It tells us a LOT about who—and what—he is taking into consideration with his plans to tear down the Veil.

Oh, yeah. We're going to be talking about everything in Thedas.

Previous Hints to This Origin: This Was Always BioWare's Intention

So many people have been calling Veilguard a "reset" on Thedas lore. And regardless of your opinion on the worldstate choices, I will say this: absolutely none of Solas's lore is a retcon. Having just played DA:O and DA2 over the summer, in addition to several playthroughs of Inquisition, in addition to reading Tevinter Nights, The Missing, and both volumes of World of Thedas, I can say with certainty: there have been little hints placed for this reveal over all 15 years.

Yes, I will be dissecting most of these as we go on.

NOTE: This is not a 100% exhaustive list, especially by the time we get to DA:I!

Origins:

the earliest Fen'Harel lore: Fen'Harel walked between both clans of gods, for each of them believed him to be one of their own.

Oghren remarks that the Temple of Sacred Ashes is built around a lot of lyrium, and suggests (perhaps falsely) that that is why the Sacred Ashes of Andraste have healing powers

DA2:

literally Mythal is there, guys. she's there right in the prologue. of course DA2 was also an Evanuris game!! they ALL are!

the focus on the lyrium idol: being the Titans' blood, and being used so extensively in Veilguard (as the dagger) after its mention in Tevinter Nights (where Solas was looking for it and called it "my idol"), my assumption is it has always been a part of him or related to his Titan

red lyrium in general: showing us its effects, setting up the reveal for what it is in Inquisition

Corypheus' appearance in DA2, and how BioWare brought Corypheus in just so the player could see, without a doubt, that Hawke killed Corypheus. This was always meant to be a "HUH?" moment in Inquisition, where the player would see that Corypheus did, in fact, fully come back to life—opening up the door for future questions on how immortality is possible in Thedas

every Merrill mention of Fen'Harel, and having the legend from previous Dalish codices and Fen'Harel statues be placed in dialogue from her personal quest, where far fewer players would miss it or accidentally overlook it

taken together: everything having to do with Corypheus and lyrium in DA2 was preparation for us to establish a connection between lyrium, the Evanuris, immortality, and the blight in DAI.

Inquisition:

Cole's dialogue. Here's just a few lines: (at the lyrium coffins in Trespasser) "They're all singing. Coffers, coffins, corpses that aren't dead. A song crying out in the dark." // (telling Dorian why he doesn't need to eat) "I thought I had to. But I don't. The Old Songs can pull me." // (about wanting to be bound as a spirit) "You should ask Solas to bind you, too. And then someone can bind him."

Also this Cole/Solas exchange:

The entire Well of Sorrows quest. Lyrium, once refined, is a liquid. The Well of Sorrows houses memory: the memories of all who pledged themselves to it.

Solas' dialogue with Sera includes him saying elvish phrases that translate, loosely, to Titan-esque things (more about that in a later post!)

The insight we get into Templar and Seeker magic. Notably, Cole remarks over and over how it's connecting to "that other thing" (Titan magic, presumably) that counters mages' Fade magic. (ex: "The lyrium helps, but their bodies always want to connect to… something older. Bigger than they are. That's why they block magic. They reach for that other thing, and magic has no room to come in.")

Every Vir Dirthara codex has something to do with either lyrium, slain Titans, or that "other" magic (coming from the Pillars of the Earth).

The lullaby found in the Deep Roads in Trespasser is actually an elven explanation of Solas's origin. (more on that in a later post!)

External Media:

Solas calls it HIS red lyrium idol in Tevinter Nights. When the Dread Wolf descends upon the Mortalitasi, he says "MY lyrium idol."

Solas speaks to the Eye of Kethisca, presumably made of lyrium, in Vows & Vengeance Episode 1. The Eye then stops singing.

There is more in this list than I have posted! Much of it requires other explanations and context, however, and would not fit neatly in this list.

What This Implies for Solas's Past and Present

Past:

I think Solas's origination as part of a Titan has HUGE implications for the entire elvhen empire.

I think all of the Evanuris did Lyrium Crimes™, and they can be identified when we look at their vallaslin (later post!)

I also believe that Dirthamen/Falon'Din were originally also split by Elgar'nan, and it is very possible that they are the same kind of "spirit" as Solas.

I think this has huge implications for his relationship with Mythal.

I think that if Solas shares his lyrium/Titan-based lineage with any elves (as possibly evidenced by the lyrium coffins in the Deep Roads), then his rebellion might take root in how many elvhen may not have asked to be born.

I don't think he had to absorb magic from Mythal to get his powers. If anything, he may have been getting those abilities back.

Present:

I think that the Titans may have been injured/sundered when Solas created the Veil, and that is why they forget how to wake up.

I think the Titans, therefore, are the Forgotten Ones.

I think Solas wants to tear down the Veil to wake the Titans.

BIIIIIGGGG Blight implications, seeing as red lyrium is the blood of blighted Titans.

I think, if Solas dies, he may be "returned to the Stone" in the same way we saw in the Descent DLC.

But ALSO? I think this has the potential to explain a LOT of the lore we've been questioning for the last 15 years. And that is why this post is scheduled to have 6 parts by the time I'm through.

Stay tuned. <3

Up Next: (Almost) Every Hint the Elvish Language Gave Us About Solas's Origin

[astrolovecosmos]

I went down a rabbit hole to learn about the asteroid Wolff (5674) and I'm low-key obsessed with this little obscure asteroid. I have struggled to find a lot of good information about this asteroid in astrological terms. So below is more of a theoretical take from what I've read, researched, and then speculation based on my own knowledge.

This asteroid is most known for signaling an affiliation with or love of wolves, dogs, and canines. Some other interpretations could be someone's survival instincts, the hunter archetype, a connection to animals, a wild side, being a lone wolf, maybe even painting a picture of belonging, such as belonging to a pack.

Find where this asteroid is in your chart by using a custom chart reader like astro.com has and inputting the asteroid number - 5674

Wolff in Aries: Has warrior-instinct and approaches their more animalistic side with bravery. Faces challenges head-on. Maybe gets carried away when competitive, angry, or even bored. Has a confrontational side. Is comfortable being the leader but even more comfortable with their sharp teeth.

Wolff in Taurus: May have a closeness to the earth, nature, and/or animals. This placement can highlight themes of resourcefulness, loyalty, and a strong connection to the senses. Can be influential to others and gain followers through patience and consistency.

Wolff in Gemini: A curious animal. They have a keen interest in exploring ideas, gathering info, and engaging in intellectual pursuits. May highlight a quick-thinking, sociable nature, with a talent for multitasking and connecting with others. Wolff in Gemini has a drive to express oneself, share knowledge, and remain flexible in thought and action.

Wolff in Cancer: Has primal instincts and intuition with a focus on nurturing and protecting others. Has a deep attachment and association with many "wolf" things such as the moon, moodiness or volatile emotions, strong loyalty and sense of tradition, and a focus on family or their kin - pack.

Wolff in Leo: Is filled with themes of pride, loyalty, and a natural ability to inspire or lead others with enthusiasm and warmth. Wants to stand out among their kin in a way that is seen as bold, benevolent, or worthy. Can have a fierce side and it doesn't take much to get in touch with their inner animal.

Wolff in Virgo: Can have a love and passion for the environment and health. They get in touch with the natural world in a highly practical way. May have a strong sense of duty to their "pack". Has a sharp, untamed intellect that seeks to perfect and refine with an almost obsessive drive. Can have an unyielding urge to dissect and improve everything.

Wolff in Libra: Has a deep drive for connection through nature. They understand a natural sort of harmony in life, people, the world via nature or animals. Is highly social and truly a "pack" animal. May manifest as a fierce desire for fairness and justice, pushing boundaries to achieve equilibrium in relationships and social interactions.

Wolff in Scorpio: Has an association with wolves through one of the animals the sign is compared to in their transformations. The fact that sea wolves exist and killer whales hunt a lot like wolves is a sign that water has a connection to the animal, along with the earth element which has a connection to all of nature. The primal instincts of Wolff in Scorpio are mysterious and powerful. This placement suggests a drive for uncovering hidden truths, navigating emotional depths, and embracing change on a profound level. The wild side of this placement might manifest as a relentless pursuit of power and control, particularly in areas of intimacy, psychology, or the occult.

Wolff in Sagittarius: Embodies a wild, adventurous spirit that seeks truth, freedom, and exploration. Could be extroverted or open about their inner wildness. Truly has a hunter's instinct. Wolff in Sagittarius can highlight a love for the unknown, a passion for philosophical or spiritual exploration, and a desire to break free from limitations. This placement encourages embracing the untamed aspects of life, driven by an insatiable curiosity.

Wolff in Capricorn: Can have a deep appreciation for nature. May want to protect or conserve nature or history. May manifest as an intense drive to conquer challenges and rise to positions of power, often through perseverance and strategic planning. Is patient and may have the "coldness" or "ruthlessness" of nature. Is all about endurance, impact, legacy, and tradition. Their wild side can exist in a highly tangible way somehow.

Wolff in Aquarius: This is a rebellious, unpredictable, and chaotic lone wolf. There's a potential for a radical approach to solving problems, embracing the future, and connecting with like-minded individuals in unique or unexpected ways. They can represent the follower and conformist as well as the leader or outsider and unconventional in our most basic human instincts. Their feral side may be strangely familiar or human.

Wolff in Pisces: Has a mystical, intuitive energy that connects deeply with emotions, dreams, and the unconscious. The wild side of Wolff in Pisces may manifest as a powerful drive to explore spiritual realms, embrace creativity, and dissolve boundaries between the self and the collective. Can find inspiration and/or wisdom in nature. This placement encourages embracing the unseen and the intangible, using imagination and feeling as guides through life's complexities.

More history on the asteroid here.

[chocodile]

Inspired by the hauntings and curses question from before as well as the upcoming spooky season, does lycanthropy and vampirism exist in the Amaranthine setting or are they considered fictional? I absolutely love the setting that you and Kwillow created, the world building is absolutely amazing as well as the characters in there.

Like ghosts, vampires and werewolves would also be only creatures of legend! Here are the myths associated with them:

The closest parallel to "werewolves" would be rural Western Kingdom superstitions about people regressing to a bestial state. As has been mentioned before, the Western Kingdom sees Animals (bipedal, thinking, capable of speech) and animals (dumb, feral beasts) as wholly different, unrelated creatures. Therefore, when a rural village finds itself tormented by an animal that seems a little bigger and smarter and stranger than the average beast, they might start wondering if it truly is a mere animal. Surely no mere animal could have broken into our chicken coop? That gate was bolted closed! Could an animal have unlocked it? Surely not! Old Agatha says she saw a wolf that was on fire and had glowing eyes. A mere animal couldn't use magic, could it? Magic is the domain of the evolved, thinking man… the Animals.

The closest parallel to "vampires" would be Eastern Kingdom tales of secret blood-drinking cults. As previously discussed, the Eastern Kingdom considers animals and Animals to be close cousins. Eating the flesh of a creature so spiritually and physically similar to yourself is seen as a vile, immoral act, so Eastern Kingdom cuisine skews vegetarian (pescatarian at most).

Some carnivores find this difficult to deal with. Historically, most have managed alright, but at some point, some Eastern Kingdom carnivores began meeting in secret, holding illicit dinners where they dined on red meat. These "blood dinners" became in vogue among the wealthy for a time, though they were probably not nearly as wide-spread as the rumors made them out to be. The rumors further mutated--now it wasn't animal meat they were eating, it was Animal meat. I heard they drink blood as an initiation ritual. Maybe it's the blood of virgins? I heard there was a naked woman on the floor with a ritualistic circle drawn around her in blood and she had an apple in the mouth and the local senator (who I'm coincidentally running against) was pouring gravy all over her!

Whatever it is, partaking in such a heinous act surely corrupts them forever, turning them into twisted creatures who must continue to drink blood to maintain their unnatural dark powers.

Hyden, with his weird fondness for red meat, wound up with vampire rumors attached to him, especially after his crimes against the Eastern Kingdom during the war. Surely such a bloodthirsty man would also literally be blood thirsty, right? (They're not wrong.) Hyden finds the rumor amusing, of course.

[isa-ghost]

Inspired by this post, A List Of Games I NEED all of Team Bolas to play together:

THE FOREST!!!

JACKBOX GAMES!!!

Phasmophobia

Prop Hunt

Fall Guys

Chained Together

Pico Park

Rocket League

Smash Bros (just for Etoiles <3)

Sea of Thieves

The Long Drive

Wolf Quest

Lethal Company

Among Us

Worms

Stardew Valley (I think they'd have too many players though)

Fruit Game. Again. Except all Bolas

Uno (they'd have too many players but can you IMAGINE...)

[darkdemeter]

─────────────────

🗯️ I love the idea of writing an AU for Wanda x Wolf!R story heavily inspired by The Wolf Among Us game by Telltale, where you can make decisions that dictate the outcome of your chosen path. (The soundtrack does things to my brain I swear)

Obviously reader would be sheriff, taking on that Bigby role, characters from the Habits universe would also make an appearance. And depending on your actions will also dictate your relationship with Wanda and possibly other main characters.

But I have so many projects already 😭

─────────────────

[hephaestiions]

author reclist: wolfpants

over the last few months, i've been devouring @wolfpants' works. ever since reading pages of you in two days, their rendering of harry, draco and a vast array of incredibly compelling side characters have irrevocably hooked me.

wolf is an author in enthralling motion. their fics often feature places, temporalities and contexts far removed from where canon holds & leaves us, while simultaneously being tenderly familiar, like coming home. wolf's sense of & grasp over setting leaves me breathless and dumbstruck. their different spatialities inform & infuse character in admirable ways, at various levels of craft, enjoyment and inspiration. this fandom knows and loves the draco and harry they give us, but we delight in discovering new dimensions & aspects of these characters. it's always done brilliantly believably, especially in the framework of the worlds they construct— a breath of fresh air in a forest where the trees still know your name.

wolf's works also demonstrate, sometimes explicitly, sometimes implicitly, a really significant political sensibility. most of their fics are set against backdrops tight with political tension bleeding into the characters' circumstances and interpersonal dynamics. whether through a spectrality haunting the narrative or the crucial central diegetic thread, wolf's works are layered, interrogating and collapsing delineations among private, public and political, between history and contemporaneity and between narrative and commentary.

in the interests of length & theme of this list, i've specifically selected some fics that, for me, showcase wolf's mastery & playfulness with setting, understood as deviations in place, time and universe. the broader recommendation is, of course, to check out everything wolf has ever written!

nightcall (E, 1k) ft. a long distance phone call

On a top secret Unspeakable misson, Harry calls Draco from a remote phone booth on the Isle of Skye.

a stunning portrait of desire, longing and familiarity that uses distance as a device to intensify every element. it's unbelievable how much character & context 1k words of (mostly) smut can pack in. the slivers of backstory demand your investment, inform the dynamic in crucial ways and set up some delicious stakes and tension. and some absolutely fantastic dirty talk. see also: @getawayfox's gorgeous art for this fic!

long haul (E, 8.6k) ft. plane rides, mile high club, nyc

The last person Harry expects to run into on a long haul flight to New York City is Draco Malfoy.

the way wolf writes movement— between places, between people— strokes its way up your spine, warms you, walks with you. draco and harry, buoyed in the air, let preconceived notions fall away, to be replaced by startlingly rapid and exquisite intimacy. the liminal settings, specifically, allow mature, open-minded, desirous characterisation & some of the most glorious, soft, tender sex to fall into like a warm bed.

look for me in the sun (M, 8.7k) ft. americana, roadtrip/on-the-run vibes

Harry and Draco are on the run in America after a mysterious string of werewolf-like attacks in the Muggle community causes the Ministry to impose new and harsh anti-werewolf legislation.

atmospheric writing dialled up to eleven, like the smell of ozone in the air before a thunderstorm. the sense of limbo— transience, out of place and time, the complication of home— that afflicts the circumstances of draco & harry here is heart-wrenching. a taut rumination on otherness in a variety of ways, rendered through some of the most tense and subtle writing i've encountered.

under giant mountains (E, 33.7k) ft. norwegian dragon reserves & rampant escapist tendencies

Harry doesn't know where he's going. Everyone else has their life paths figured out; he doesn't even know where his map is. Who'd have thought Draco Malfoy bathing in a Norwegian forest would be the guidepost Harry needed?

opens with harry, stuck in the same place for far too long, and draco, avoiding fixity like the plague. this fic looks at both stagnation and escapism as iterations of each other & treats them with the gentlest empathy. the norwegian dragon reserve setting, whose visuality wolf's writing captures beautifully, becomes the canvas to explore both. desire, here, was simultaneously so evident from the outset and took its time to build— longing tinged every interaction & payoff, in the form of a sequence of some of the most emotionally fraught sex scenes i've ever read, was that much sweeter.

romp and circumstance (E, 35k) ft. a historical au set in the 1800s, regency era england

Since the war, Harry Potter has gone from Saviour to Scoundrel—not that he’s complaining. With a schedule full of gorgeous men, alcohol, and late nights, why would he want to change? Enter Draco Malfoy: beautiful, sharp, and completely untouchable. When Draco comes to Harry with a proposition to help him attract an engagement, Harry’s up for it—after all, how hard can it be not falling for his former nemesis? Very hard, apparently.

the very first wolf fic i read, in a brief little fandom interlude back in 2022. i remember thinking, then, what an author, i'm really missing out these days. one of my favourite post-war harry characterisations— raucous, promiscuous, messy and at heart, a hopeless romantic. also one of my favourite draco characterisations— pristine, a little uptight, cool and distant and untouchable, except what he really wants is to be unbuttoned, messed up. the transforming sentiments of their relationship were so compelling, the build of harry's feelings was perfectly achey and tender and this draco was a complex, nuanced, frightfully sexy version that i just couldn't turn away from.

pages of you (E, 101k) ft. a 1980s non-magical au

Summer, 1980. Harry is floating between university and becoming a Real Certified Adult. He's not ready. He really isn't. In a desperate attempt to have the Best Last Summer ever, he takes a casual job at his godfather's bookshop in London, starts an illicit pen pal affair with a wordy posh boy that he's catching feelings for, all while dealing with the son of Sirius's business rival, one Draco Malfoy, insufferable know-it-all extraordinaire.

gosh, what a fic. sensitive and sprawling, this work brings the spatialities of london, sirius and remus' queer comfort of a bookshop and harry's room at the residence halls to pulsing, colourful, splendid life. i can still close my eyes and imagine the spaces this fic occurs in, how important they are to the push and pull, ups and downs of the dynamic between harry and draco. a coming-of-age/sexual awakening & exploration story, summer romance and queer political fiction rolled into one, this is a fic that's hard to summarise and easy to obsess over. perfect characterisations, writing that burrows into your soul and a plot that unfolds with the slow and steady depth of gentle lake.

and lastly, a fic that's on my tbr:

terrible people (E, 52.7k) ft. cruises, beach holidays and more of @getawayfox's masterpieces

What happens when Harry and Draco end up on the same Muggle gay cruise? They certainly didn't plan for it to happen (but their friends might have). They're stuck with each other for a week, they might as well make the most of it, right?

in conclusion: vivid, descriptive, immersive storytelling from an author who understands the intricacies of different narrative elements and leverages them masterfully. can't wait to read the works i haven't, and for everything wolf writes in the future!

[haveyouplayedthisttrpg]

Have you played CHANGELING THE DREAMING ?

By White wolf

You’ve never really fit in, people often say you’re too busy daydreaming, that you have your head in the clouds, that you should be focusing on working instead of dreaming. This world is choked with banality, war and famines destroying anything it touches. Churches demanding your belief in them and them alone. All the while you are expected to live the rest of your life working in a cubicle and using your off time managing your side hustles all in order to survive. That is banality, when the mundanity and darkness that has infested the beautiful world forces dreamers not to hope and dream, but survive and suffer. This world no longer has the time to dream.

You thought it horrific, as others were far too gone to notice their blood is greasing the gears to the machine of banality. You knew something was wrong and then the realization dawns on you, in an explosion of glamour. You were at one point, a Faerie, a creature of hopes and dreams. The very same entities that taught humanity to hope, to dream, to fear and to fight. You have been reborn as a human in an effort to survive in this banal world. You are a changeling. While your memories of your Fae heritage may be fuzzy, the world has become more clear. You see the chimerical world hiding in the mundane. Dragons patrol the sky, the tree in the way to work has a smiling face and loud mouth and your reflection shows a Fae where once a regular person once was.

Mundane humans don’t see the chimerical, to them you still look the same but others of your kind see the truth. The Fae never left, they walk among you in human shells all trying to not just survive this banal world, but to fight it back. Changelings have complex kingdoms and courts as well as a divide between the Noble and the commoner Fae. Faeries from different cultures and folklore could be found all over along with their strange magics and treasures. You are part of this new world set before you, will you survive banality? Or fight it back and inspire humanity to dream again?

[thedawner]

Thrax study inspired by Telltale's The Wolf Among Us. It's how I imagine this AU that I've been rotating inside my head looking like!

Osmosis Jones fanart.

Also, here's the screenshot I used as reference:

[bonefall]

what poison/s were used in riverstar's heir at moth's celebration and when bright and flowerstar ate together? suggestion (if you hadn't decided yet): Monkshood/Aconite/Wolfsbane (Aconitum napellus) its a VERY poisonous plant native to the uk and europe, lethal with both ingestion and body contact and has historical use in killing and murder. symptoms appear quickly and death often comes in only a few hours; its a shame it wasn't used in canon lmao

Oh symptoms don't just appear quickly-- Aconite's name is said to be ancient Greek for "Without Dust." That refers to how aconite kills SO quickly that you will not even kick up dust in your death struggle. Death coming in a few hours is from the minimum deadly dosage, any good assassin worth their salt would use more (and take care to mask its bitter taste, it's not a subtle flavor like cyanide is.)

Forget "deathberries." Yew is nothing next to aconite.

Yew's deadly compound, taxine, acts by stopping your heart. Yawn. Aconite targets your heart, liver, kidneys, AND brain all at the same time. It's so potent that handling young roots will make your hands go numb. Only 2 miligrams of the deadly compound, aconitine, is a fatal dose in a human being; a single grain of rice weighs 20 miligrams.

Anon, my friend, you undersold aconite. It's not just a very poisonous plant in Europe, aconitine is top 5 deadliest poisons period. Members of the aconite family are widespread through the northern hemisphere-- indigenous Alaskan people have used it to hunt whales for tens of thousands of years. Its toxic properties break down within 24 hours, leaving the meat completely safe to eat.

So naturally, suggestion accepted. This is going to be SICK.

Especially since no one will be able to tell what happened. It looks like every major poison because it is. You might assume it was some kind of toxic cocktail from the symptoms. Convulsions, rapid heartrate, vomiting, numbness. It looks like yew, nightshade, and bryony all at once.

It'll be very easy for Bright Whisker to survive this and shake off suspicion simply by poisoning herself with a small amount of something else. If I go with Maple Whisker being a sibling instead of a cousin, I could have her simply join their meal a little late and realize that her mouth feels numb, just as everyone else enters convulsions, so she spits it out.

(Autism win! Avoided a poisoning because texture bad! Maybe she was waiting for the food to cool down too lmao)

And LASTLY... Aconite is Wolf's Bane. I think this is a really cool place to see the earliest incarnation of the Wolf Motif that will later show up in Bluestar's family. It tickles my brain a bit to think of Flowerstar somehow having the "hood" shape of the flower, and then she loses her first life in her gambit to poison the wolf among sheep.

I also had a stroke of inspiration and had an idea for one of the BB!DOTC cats, too. Dappled Pelt gets massively neglected in canon, imo, and I could set up the wolf thing even earlier. African Wild Dog time (painted wolf.)