#thus why the pawprints

[krys-loves-otome]

Had forgotten these lil gems when I was testing out marker and found the perfect colors for @batteryrose's Valerie (though the digitalization process makes it more bubblegum pink and cooler, which makes me sad)

Not gonna claim I know Val's height situation nor her pickle preferences, but this is the vibes I generally get from her

[foxymc]

ooh blorbo backstory game for qjaiden? :) (from what i've heard, it's somewhat of a mystery? so i'm curious as to just how much information there is or isn't!)

OKAY HI HELLO STRAP IN

Specifically for her backstory (life before the events of QSMP), I think we're going to need some context by going through some of what happened to her during QSMP. Maybe not entirely, I also just want to talk about that too lol

Jaiden is a bird hybrid. The exact kind of bird she is isn't actually confirmed and it might be possible that it's more than one or she's got other kinds of animal DNA in her. See here and at one point, she changed her shoes to ones that had bear pawprints on the bottom of them. Maybe a hint, maybe just a silly reference to Cucurucho. Who knows! But that is just speculation. The only thing we know for sure is she is a bird hybrid.

Interestingly, she only revealed she even had wings later on because she was just "hiding them under her shirt" before. Metawise, she just didn't have the wings as an item in her inventory before lol. But I definitely find it interesting she was just hiding her wings and thus, the fact that she was a bird hybrid for most of the series.

During the events of the QSMP, a few things happened: The Federation assigned everyone an egg (basically their kid) to take care of along with a partner. Jaiden and Roier raised Bobby together until unfortunately, Bobby died. Jaiden builds an entire house in memory of Bobby and then Cucurucho, a white bear that acts as The Federation's representative, approaches her. Jaiden wants to make sure none of the other eggs die and Cucurucho tells her they might be able to do that if she does a few things for them. So now Jaiden is doing tasks for The Federation which makes some people suspicious of her. Not much comes from the tasks she completes tbh. she just has to collect resources, conquers a dungeon (probably an old Federation base if I remember correctly?), and then there is this timer.

During all these tasks, Jaiden starts to grow close to Cucurucho and even though there are two nearly identical Cucuruchos, she can tell the difference between both of them (One of them is sillier and just less serious than the other)

Now comes basically all we know about her backstory. The thing about Jaiden is that she doesn't remember anything about her life before the island. The only thing we are told about her past is this book that Cucurucho gives her.

(It reads: Years ago, you helped us. Me. We need your help again. Will you accept? :) )

Besides this there isn't really anything concrete to go off of. There are potential clues that could hint at her backstory but at that point, we're just getting into speculation territory. All we really know for sure is she somehow helped Cucurucho in the past. I think this means she worked for The Federation but that isn't necessarily true. We just don't know.

Context for The Federation though is that they appear to be this organization that wants perfection. This is especially interesting because Jaiden is very chaotic at times.

There are rules on the island that The Federation imposes. Long story short, one time Jaiden wanted to get Cucurucho's attention and try to get some information out of him about what was happening on the island at the time. When he doesn't show up, she decides to break the rules just to catch his attention and force him to show up. Except she can't do it. She starts panicking and ends up not breaking the rules which again, she has a tendency to be very chaotic. Breaking a simple rule that The Federation set should not be difficult for her but it was.

Remember how she is a bird hybrid? SHE DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO FLY! WHY???

Speaking of that, there's this interesting detail about her wings.

Notice how they're named J0029?

Another bird hybrid's wings are just called 'Crow Damaged Wings' so.... why are Jaiden's wings named like that? Why wouldn't they just be called something generic like 'Wings'?

Anddddd I think that's all I've got. That's everything about her past that we know. At least that's coming to mind right now but I think I've got everything.

Hope this wasn't too hard to follow! Haha

[biscuitsandhorrorslash]

I went to read Howl today and it's gone 🥲 any chance you will repost? The tags sounded incredible

yah i deleted bc it wasn't doing very well + i wasn't feeling great about the whole bestiality thing even if it's not quite like that. i don't think it turned out very good anyway but the whole thing is under the cut if you want to read it

Whenever Aiden heard scratching at the window, he knew who it was: Nigel, often battered and sometimes bloodied, still in the skin of a wolf.

He was a scrapper at heart, whether it was with men or other werewolves. Aiden didn't try to keep him chained; he accepted that Nigel needed to roam every now and then, to indulge his inner beast and go patrol his territory.

Thus, he didn't whine over Nigel's nocturnal escapades, although he did worry about him every now and again. He knew Nigel could hold his own, but he always feared that Nigel's ego would get the best of him one of these nights and he would start a fight he couldn't finish. He never said as much to Nigel, though. The man probably would've take it as an insult.

For now, Aiden slept lightly, ready to wake up to claws scraping at the window in the wee hours of the morning. Fortunately, they were on a low floor, so Nigel didn't have to do that much clambering up the fire escape. He could have come through the hall if he were in human form, but he almost always arrived as a wolf.

It had its benefits– for example, he could cover ground much faster this way when traveling on foot. And, of course, there was also the fact that changing back would leave him naked. As much as Aiden wouldn't have complained about being greeted at the door by a panting, nude Nigel, he understood why the man preferred sticking with the alternative. The wolf wasn't exactly inconspicuous in and of itself, but enshrouded by darkness it could be dismissed as simply a very large dog.

Aiden usually left the curtains parted. The moonlight streaming in through the window caressed his sleeping form, mostly naked and cradled in a mess of Nigel's sheets. The werewolf's silhouette cast a flickering shadow that started to wake him before he even heard Nigel pawing at the windowpane.

It was a cold mid-autumn night, and the misty puffs of breath streaming from the end of Nigel's muzzle were fogging up the window. His amber orbs were faintly aglow with reflected light, lending him an eerie appearance. A blast of cold air buffeted Aiden as he opened the rickety window and let Nigel scramble in. His paws were muddy; they almost always were. Someone would clean up the dirty pawprints in the morning. More important things required their attention now.

Aiden hastily shut the window and drew the curtains. The billow of air that had chased Nigel inside was bitterly cold, and Aiden was still in only his underwear. He rubbed his arms, trying to brush off the chill.

Nigel, meanwhile, flopped onto the floor in the middle of the bedroom. He didn't change back, but that wasn't unheard of. Sometimes he would stay in his lupine form for a short while after he got home.

Right now he seemed tired, laying on his side and breathing heavily. “Are you hurt?” Aiden asked, voicing what was always his most immediate worry. As was usual, he found himself all but rushing to Nigel's side. He could faintly smell blood, but whether or not it was Nigel's he could not tell by nose alone.

Nigel didn't answer – not that Aiden had expected him to. He couldn't really talk when he was in this form; the most he could manage was a sonorous warble like the howling of a dissatisfied husky. Canine anatomy simply wasn't conducive to human speech. However, he could still understand spoken words as clearly as ever, so talking to him wasn't entirely a futile effort.

Aiden, kneeling down next to the inert Nigel, was once more reminded that wolves were a lot bigger in real life than people imagined them to be. Even with as many times as he'd seen Nigel like this before, it still took his breath away sometimes. Aiden ran his fingers through Nigel's thick, dense fur, gently as though to soothe him. It was quite the unique experience; most people would probably never get the chance to pet a wolf like this. The outer part of his coat was thick and coarse, but the undercoat was soft and fluffy, almost wooly in texture.

Aiden couldn't see any obvious wounds, though there was a bit of blood on Nigel's paws. Nigel lifted his head slowly, and Aiden examined his face, spotting only a small hint of blood on the bottom of his chin. Likely not his own blood, then.

Gazing into Nigel's keen yellow eyes felt intimate. Aiden felt an urge to kiss him – or maybe just press their foreheads together.

Then Nigel rolled over onto his back. Aiden assumed he was indicating he might be hurt there, and sprang to look through the plush white fur for an injury.

The only red he saw, though, was not blood.

“Excited to see me?” Aiden said it jokingly, but his eyes lingered for a moment on the very tip of Nigel's cock poking out of its furry sheath.

Nigel's cock and balls didn't simply disappear when he turned into a wolf, of course. Aiden had seen those parts of him plenty of times before, but typically tried to politely avoid touching them. Although, he would be lying if he said he didn't feel an urge to touch it now, especially since Nigel was visibly excited.

Curiosity, maybe. Nevermind how rare an experience it was to be able to pet a wolf, how many people would ever have an opportunity to sexually experiment with one?

It didn't help that Nigel had talked about it before – usually as a lewd joke, but Aiden knew there had to be at least some sincerity there, especially when he got hard talking about how good Aiden would look with a big wolf cock in his mouth. It made Aiden blush now almost as much as it had then.

He remembered the first time Nigel had talked about 'knotting' him, just as he remembered the absolutely deviant look on the man's face when Aiden asked him what a 'knot' was. And of course he remembered his crass explanation - “Ah, so innocent. Well, when a dog – or a wolf, say – mounts a bitch, and he cums, the bottom part of his dick swells up so he can't pull it out of her.”

It made sense; Aiden was sure he'd seen two dogs tied before, facing opposite directions. But he'd never really questioned the mechanism by which that happened.

He'd thought about Nigel's cock swelling up inside him. It had made his own cock twitch a little. But...

“That sounds like it would hurt.” He'd voiced something to that effect.

“Oh? You don't think the bitch feels good?” Nigel's response he remembered explicitly. That had only made Aiden's blush deepen.

Of course, it was a rhetorical question – or at least Aiden assumed it was. But he'd followed it up promptly with a much less rhetorical question: “Would you like to be my bitch, Aiden?”

The words echoed in Aiden's head as if he were hearing them all over again. Nigel was staring at him, and quite intently at that, while Aiden mindlessly scratched his belly. He wondered for a moment if maybe Nigel would like belly scratches as a human, too, but just didn't know how to ask for them.

His cock was getting bigger. Aiden cleared his throat. He moved his hand further up Nigel's stomach. Nigel extended a forepaw and tried to push it back down.

“Nigel.” Aiden said his name, but he wasn't quite sure whether he was protesting or not. Nigel made a little 'urf' sound. Touch it, Nigel willed him, wishing he could speak properly.

Aiden's hand slowly glided back down Nigel's stomach. The werewolf spread his legs a little further, making his invitation all the more clear. “You really want me to...?” Aiden asked, with a quiver of nervousness in his voice.

Nigel nodded. Hard to misinterpret that, wasn't it? Aiden moved his hand down a bit further and very cautiously let his fingers touch Nigel's emerging cock.

It definitely felt like something he shouldn't have been doing. But it was still Nigel, right? He'd touched Nigel's cock plenty of times, just...not exactly like this.

Nigel uttered a low, satisfied whine. Well, if he was enjoying it...why stop now?

Aiden tried to pull back Nigel's sheath a little, the same way he would pull back Nigel's foreskin when he was a human, but the skin was thicker than usual and didn't roll back as well. He supposed he would have to wait for it to come out on its own, then. How big was it going to get...? Nigel's cock was big enough when he was a human – would it be bigger like this? Aiden rubbed him a bit more vigorously as he kept lengthening; he was eager to see just how much it would grow.

Nigel's breaths sounded...heavier than he was used to. Deeper, maybe. The werewolf was watching him with lidded eyes and lips pulled back slightly in something like a grin. He looked quite content.

Aiden could properly wrap his hand around Nigel's shaft now, which made it easier to stroke properly. Even though it looked different, it felt similar to the way his cock felt normally – smooth and stiff. That made it feel a bit less strange, a bit more...natural. Though, there was always a peculiar allure to doing something that felt a little bit wrong. Forbidden fruit, and all that.

Aiden licked his lips, feeling wetness as he swiped his thumb across the pointed tip of Nigel's cock. “Can I suck on it?” He asked breathily.

Nigel nodded vigorously. As if Aiden had to ask! Nigel would never say no to getting his cock sucked, especially by Aiden.

The younger man had been somewhat...inexperienced when they'd first met. But he was a very eager learner; it hadn't been hard at all to teach him how to properly please a man. Plus, Aiden looked absolutely irresistible when his pretty little mouth was stuffed full of cock.

Thinking about it made Nigel wanted to sit up further, so he could see Aiden sucking him. He shifted his weight so that he was lying a bit more on his side, then spread his legs wide again to invite Aiden.

His erection was growing long and heavy. Aiden eagerly slid it through his fist, angling the pointed shaft so he could slip it into his mouth more easily.

Nigel made a sort of lowing sound when Aiden wrapped his lips around his cock and licked a few drops of bitter pre off his tip. He sounded pleased, though, like he was trying to moan as well as he could manage. Encouraged, Aiden hollowed his cheeks and began to suck in earnest. One hand kept stroking the shaft while his head began to bob up and down. However, he couldn't get it very far in before the pointed tip started pressing at the back of his throat.

Pleasured little growls eked from Nigel's mouth as Aiden sucked him. What a shame Aiden couldn't see how sexy he looked from this angle, with his messy chocolate curls bouncing while that thick red cock disappeared into his mouth. Nigel wanted to be able to thrust, to fuck into Aiden's mouth like he did when he was human, but he couldn't really do so from this angle, even if he contracted his hips.

Maybe he could mount Aiden in reverse, hold onto him while he humped his face. Oh, it was a tempting thought, but he wanted to save the mounting for later.

That long, tapered cock pricked at Aiden's throat and he gagged softly, which only served to make Nigel more aroused. Aiden moaned whorishly, apparently aroused by it as well. Nigel's cock was so big now, and Aiden wasn't even sure if it was at its full size yet. He fucked it fast against his gag reflex, choking as spit built up deep in his mouth.

Saliva poured over his chin as he pulled off, breathing heavily. “Fuck, Nigel.” Aiden swore. He stroked Nigel vigorously from tip to sheath, rubbing the accumulated spit all the way along his length. Now that he could see it better, it looked even bigger than it felt. He didn't see anything knot-like yet, though.

“When does the...'knot' come out?” Asked Aiden. He came off a bit more excited than he'd intended.

Nigel, for his part, only groaned and rolled his eyes slightly. Aiden knew he couldn't answer a question so involved right now! Yes or no questions only, he thought.

Aiden simply didn't know how big the knot was going to be, and he was direly curious. Would it be able to fit in his mouth? Well, probably not, if it was big enough to get stuck. Aiden thought about the huge cock in his hand entering his hole, stretching him to the limit, and he reached his free hand down to rub at the erection tenting his boxer briefs.

Nigel made note of Aiden touching himself. As a matter of fact, he happened to be thinking of much the same thing as Aiden was.

Aiden went back down to suck him, but Nigel gently pushed Aiden off of him with his paw. Thankfully, Aiden understood what he was trying to do immediately, and moved his mouth away.

“What?” Aiden asked, his pretty eyes wide.

Hmm. How did Nigel convey what he wanted without talking?

It was a decidedly brief dilemma. Nigel fell back on his instincts; he half-stood and pushed his muzzle into Aiden's ass.

Aiden felt Nigel's hot, damp breath seeping through his underwear. It sent a tingle up his spine, and he gave a soft, surprised moan. Nigel, impatient, put his paws up on the small of Aiden's bowed back. How many more ways could he show the boy that he wanted his hole?

“You want to fuck me?” Asked Aiden, voice trembling with nervous excitement.

Yes, thought Nigel. Now he understood. Nigel got off him and shoved his snout back into Aiden's ass, grabbing the waistband of the boy's boxers in his teeth and tugging aggressively.

“Hey, watch it, you're gonna rip my underwear!” Aiden protested. Nigel already had Aiden's underwear down over the curve of his ass, and may very well have already ripped them by the time Aiden reached back to snatch them from him. Aiden huffed indignantly as he rolled them the rest of the way down by himself, before awkwardly kicking them off his feet. All the while, a still impatient Nigel was eyeing up his smooth, pale rump. Aiden's hard, needy shaft was exposed now too. So lovely how hard he got from sucking cock.

Nigel nosed back into the cleft of Aiden's now-naked ass. Aiden let out a little grunt of what sounded like surprise. Nigel's wet nose felt quite cold when it brushed his bare skin. His tongue, though –

His tongue! Nigel was licking him – licking his hole. This too felt like something that shouldn't have been happening. Nigel had rimmed him plenty of times before, but when he was a wolf, however, it was an entirely different experience. His tongue was so long and wet and he was slobbering all over Aiden's hole. It was like getting kissed by a dog, but...

But it was licking his ass. Aiden grasped at the dingy, threadbare rug sprawled across the center of their bedroom. He felt so depraved.

Nigel was a bit frustrated. It seemed he didn't have quite as much fine control over his tongue in this form. Well, his tongue was a bit bigger, after all, and not adapted for the sort of precise manipulation a human needed. If he could curl it a little, though, could he still manage to push it in? Nigel opened his mouth slightly more as he tried to force his tongue inside.

“Careful.” Aiden winced when he felt Nigel's teeth slide against him. He knew Nigel wouldn't hurt him on purpose, but it was impossible not to be at least a little bit trepidatious when it came to that mouthful of monstrous teeth. Aiden definitely didn't want any of them accidentally nicking such a sensitive part of his body.

All those fears and inhibitions went out the window very quickly when Nigel's long, sloppy tongue breached his hole. Ah, it went in so deep! Much deeper than his tongue normally did, anyway.

Nigel couldn't manipulate it as finely as he wanted, but he was certainly making Aiden feel good regardless, if all the pretty little moans coming from him were any indication. Nigel darted his tongue in and out like he was lapping up water, trying to open Aiden up for him. It might not be enough, though; if only he had fingers!

Aiden let out a whimper when Nigel pulled off of him. He reached back and felt how slick and wet his hole was, absolutely covered with Nigel's drool. He gingerly pushed two fingers inside. Then, recalling how big Nigel's dick was, he decided to try for a third.

Nigel nosed around Aiden's opening while he fingered himself – much to Aiden's chagrin. “Ah, your nose is cold!” He complained. Nigel responded only by reaching out his tongue to lick the back of Aiden's balls. His warm tongue at the very least felt a lot better than that cold nose. Nigel licked at the base of his cock, too; it was pleasurable, but Aiden was still a bit apprehensive thinking about all the pointy teeth that studded Nigel's maw. He certainly wouldn't want to stick his cock in there.

Aiden was getting impatient now, too. He pulled his fingers out of himself and pushed his ass back a little, showing off his needy hole. “Do you wanna...” Murmured Aiden, trailing off halfway through. “D'you wanna put it in?”

Yes! Nigel wanted to bury his cock inside Aiden more than anything else in the world. But there was one more thing they needed.

Nigel had gotten Aiden's hole pretty wet with his spit, but they were bound to need more than just that – especially if Aiden was going to take the knot. However, there was no way Nigel could manage to enunciate the word 'lube' in this state, so he'd have to take matters into his own hands...or paws, as it were.

He was pretty sure he could manage this by himself. Nigel turned around towards the end table, grabbing the handle of the rickety drawer in his mouth and awkwardly pulling it out by stepping backwards.

“Nigel?” Aiden sought, apparently confused. Nigel ignored him.

As large as he was, Nigel didn't even have to stand up awkwardly on his hind legs to grab the lube out of the drawer – which he of course also did with his mouth. When he turned around to face Aiden, he must have looked rather like a dog presenting a fetched stick.

“Oh. Right.”

Nigel could tell from the way Aiden was smiling at him that the boy found it amusing. However, he stopped just shy of laughing, perhaps not wanting to offend Nigel. He took the bottle of lube from Nigel gingerly; it was a bit slimy after being in his mouth, but surprisingly he had held it gently enough that he hadn't left teeth marks on it.

“Can you come this way a little?” Aiden beckoned him, and Nigel came.

Reaching underneath Nigel to lube up his cock must have felt almost like milking a cow. Aiden's turn to do something a bit silly, Nigel supposed.

As he did it, Aiden could see a bulge in Nigel's sheath. His breath quivered with excitement.

Aiden turned back, positioning himself on his hands and knees once again in the center of that old, ugly rug. 'Doggy style' was probably the only position that would really work for them, anyways...well, maybe. But they could save the experimenting for another time.

Mounting Aiden from behind wasn't anything new for Nigel – but now, he would mount Aiden just like an animal would! The thought invigorated him. He knew how dogs mounted their mates, and it couldn't be too hard to replicate.

The werewolf grabbed Aiden around his torso with his forelimbs as he climbed on top of him. However, it was not quite as easy as he'd assumed; Nigel couldn't hold onto his cock with his hand to guide it in, so instead he simply had to poke his erection around until he got it lined up. Suddenly, he felt bad for all the animals out there without opposable thumbs.

Aiden was about to ask Nigel if he needed help when he felt the tip press against his hole and finally start to penetrate him. A muted growl of satisfaction sounded right next to his ear, which he answered with a tender moan.

Nigel contracted his hips in a sort of bunny-hop motion, spearing his cock deeper into Aiden's hole. All thing considered, it didn't feel all that different from getting fucked by Nigel in his human form – aside from him being much hairier than usual, of course. His chest was pressed against Aiden's back, warm and blanketed with thick fur. Even the back of Aiden's neck was being caressed by Nigel's proud ruff. He could have rested his chin on Aiden's head – a stark reminder of just how large he was.

Nigel imagined what it might have been like to be Aiden, being fucked primally by a beast. Degrading, perhaps – or freeing. Maybe a bit of both. Being inside him, though, definitely felt good regardless of whether Nigel was a human or a wolf! Aiden had such a tight little ass.

Aiden let his mouth fall open in a soft moan, the last of his inhibitions rapidly melting away. “Fuck me...” He murmured, almost thoughtlessly. “Fuck me.”

Nigel had no intention of doing otherwise. He had been waiting quite some time for this; he was horny, needy, and not interested in taking it slow. His pace picked up almost immediately, pink tongue lolling out of his mouth as he panted and humped. Aiden could feel puffs of warm breath cascading down from Nigel's open mouth.

Nigel realized quickly that he could probably have just dropped his front paws all the way to the ground and kept fucking Aiden. It would be no more awkward than trying to hold him about his torso, although it offered a bit less control.

Doing so left Aiden even more surrounded by Nigel on all sides. Even if Nigel wasn't holding onto him, he still had Aiden right where he wanted him. Aiden was completely helpless underneath Nigel – and it turned him on so much.

Nigel's thrusts were short and fast, pounding his long and thick cock into Aiden and building up his pleasure more and more. Aiden's own cock was twitching underneath him and leaking profusely onto the carpet. Desperate to touch himself, he tried to awkwardly reach an arm back to do so, despite Nigel physically dominating him. He succeeded, if a bit ungracefully, stroking himself just as rapidly as Nigel was pumping his hips.

It wasn't long before Aiden could feel something hitting him on every deep forward thrust – and it certainly wasn't Nigel's sheath or balls. It was hard, hot, and round.

“Is that the knot?” Aiden marveled, turning his head to look over his shoulder as if Nigel would answer. “God, it's so big.” The knot bumping up against his ass felt huge, and very stiff. He'd imagined it to feel a little bit more...malleable, maybe? But it seemed to be rock hard.

“You think it'll fit?” Aiden wondered aloud. It was certainly daunting, now that he had a better impression of its size. He'd never taken anything anywhere near as large as Nigel's fist-sized knot, but he would have been lying if he said he wasn't aroused by the idea of it entering him.

Anything will fit if you try hard enough, Nigel thought. His heart thudded in elation at the thought of how close he was to knotting Aiden; he'd been waiting so long for this moment. That slutty little hole deserved to get ruined by a big, swollen knot like this. It would certainly be an experience neither of them would ever forget!

Nigel grabbed onto Aiden again, thrusting deep and not stopping. His knot pressed hard against Aiden's hole; it didn't give at first, but Nigel didn't relent. Aiden whimpered underneath him as he felt his opening start to stretch. It was a stingy sort of sensation that wasn't entirely unfamiliar to him – painful, but not unbearable. Aiden just gritted his teeth.

Nigel relaxed for a moment, giving Aiden a second of reprieve which he spent taking a deep breath. Almost as soon as he'd inhaled, Nigel was pushing again. Aiden groaned this time, his back instinctively trying to arch away when the pain started. The deeper the knot started to go, the more it started to hurt.

Oh, it was a big stretch. But he could do it; he would take it for Nigel.

Aiden closed his eyes and set his teeth. He really needed a pillow or something to bite down on. In desperation he rolled up the dirty rug beneath him and gripped it ferociously.

Nigel wished he could have said something to soothe Aiden, told him it was okay – or at least told him to stop clenching. Instead, Nigel just nuzzled the side of Aiden's face in the absence of words.

Aiden was kneading the rug in his fingers now, letting out an array of gasps and pants as Nigel alternated between pushing hard and momentarily relaxing. They were getting there; once it got in past the widest point, the rest would pop in, no problem.

Nigel gently licked Aiden's cheek. It tasted of warm sweat.

“Fuck, Nigel.” Aiden groaned. He was sweating and panting and his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was tearing at the rug. So close, thought Nigel, almost there. His claws dug into Aiden's sides, but Aiden barely even noticed.

Fuck, it was stretching him so much, so much, it hurt it hurt it hurt –

And then it slammed in all at once.

Aiden threw his head back. The noise that came from him was nothing shy of a yell, wordless but impassioned. Probably woke up the neighbors. Thank God he'd closed the curtains, at least; he could hardly imagine someone glancing through their window and catching a glimpse of this!

Nigel was panting in Aiden's ear, each breath just shy of a growl. Aiden's hole twitched helplessly around the girth of his knot; it was so fucking huge. God, he was going to be sore for a week.

And Nigel hadn't even come yet. He was so close, though. He was a bit unsure about moving with the knot inside Aiden, but he really needed to come. Just a little more, he thought, cautiously starting to cant his hips.

His thrusts were very shallow now, but Aiden whimpered loudly every time Nigel moved. Every throb was making the knot swell even more, and Aiden could feel it growing. It was putting so much pressure on his insides; he didn't know anything could hurt so much and feel so good at the same time.

Nigel could tell Aiden was near his limit. Poor boy. He probably needed some love right now. Unfortunately, Nigel was somewhat limited in what kinds of love he could give. He wanted to be able to tell him he was such a good boy, that he was doing so good, that he was taking it so well and making Nigel feel so good.

Aiden reached up and grabbed a fistful of Nigel's lupine mane. Pulling his hair, now! What a naughty boy.

The tug was just enough to push Nigel over the edge. A breathy, gravelly groan replaced an announcement of his orgasm. He stilled almost completely as his throbbing cock pumped Aiden full of his seed – and his knot swelled all the way to its full size. All the better to keep all of that come inside him!

Nigel's long tongue hung all the way out of his mouth, a rivulet of drool dripping onto Aiden's shoulders. All kinds of sounds were coming from the boy's mouth, wrapped up in a cocktail of pain and pleasure. His cock was flicking upwards like a light switch every time a pulse pumped through it; he'd been too busy clawing at the carpet to touch himself while Nigel was knotting him. But, now that Nigel had come, he had all the time in the world.

Aiden gave himself a few slow strokes, his head spinning. He was so worked up it hardly took anything for his swollen cock to start spurting come all over the rug. It made quite a mess, but it wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last.

Nigel felt Aiden shaking like a leaf through his orgasm. Must have been coming so hard. He couldn't see Aiden's toes curling, but he could picture it quite vividly.

Whimpering, Aiden slumped forward, his face flopping against the carpet. Nigel nosed his curly hair and gave him a few reassuring tongue-kisses along the back of his neck. His face was flushed such a beautiful deep, rosy red.

Nigel hadn't pulled out. Was the knot...stuck now? It didn't feel like it had gotten any smaller yet; Aiden couldn't imagine Nigel pulling it out without a lot of effort. As he was thinking of it, he felt Nigel swing his left legs over his back – first the front, and then the back. He was turning around, just like a dog would. This position put a bit of pressure on the knot, but not so much that he couldn't deal with it. This way, though, it would slip out as soon as it could.

Aiden should've drawn this in one of his little comic books! Nigel imagined pages upon pages of lurid illustrations of pretty boys getting pounded by werewolf cocks, eyes rolled back in pleasure as they took the knot. Surely, there had to be a market for that sort of thing

“Couldn't you just...turn into a human again, and then you could pull it out?” Aiden's sudden murmur shocked Nigel from his reverie.

Nigel gave a diffident growl. Where's the fun in that?

Aiden huffed in annoyance, realizing quickly that Nigel wasn't going to take him up on that offer. He shouldn't have been surprised, though. Nigel always did as he pleased.

“Well, it won't take long to go down, right?” He asked, though he knew Nigel wasn't going to answer.

It was a bit of an inelegant position to be left in, but Aiden found himself quite relaxed. Fallen He almost got used to the feeling of the knot inside him, especially since it only got less and less swollen as the minutes ticked by.

After about twelve minutes or so, the knot got small enough that Aiden felt it starting to slip out. There was a soft but audible pop as it exited, accompanied by a little gasp from Aiden. The feeling of emptiness was jarring after having been stuffed with such a big knot; his wrecked hole immediately contracted around nothing.

By the time Aiden had lifted himself up and turned around to face Nigel, he was human again, laying with his back against the side of the bed. He looked over at Aiden and smiled.

Nigel's cock was still mostly hard and lying against his inner thigh. Aiden couldn't help but let his eyes wander there. No knot, though.

Glad to finally be able to get off his knees, Aiden rolled himself over to sit on his hip, before using the end of the bed to pull himself to his feet.

Aiden's legs immediately trembled beneath him. Oh, was he going to have trouble walking in the morning.

Nigel raced to his side, ready to catch him if he couldn't support himself. “Are you alright?” He asked.

“Sore.” Aiden answered promptly, gently holding onto Nigel. His eyes flickered towards Nigel's, and then back down. “That was so intense.” He added. He sounded breathless, and a bit sheepish.

Was that a good thing? Intense sex was usually a good thing, but not exclusively a good thing.

Nigel rubbed Aiden's shoulder. “Here. Lay down.” He instructed, carefully helping Aiden onto the bed before laying down beside him.

He noticed Aiden wince slightly as he lowered himself down onto the bed. “A little rough on you, wasn't I?” Nigel remarked, not quite apologetic.

“Yeah, it really hurt.” Aiden hummed, with a bit of a laugh in his voice.

“Sorry.” Said Nigel – although he didn't feel very sorry. Probably not as sorry as he should've felt, at least.

Still, Aiden was likely feeling a little shaken after something so intense – not to mention painful – so now it was Nigel's job to comfort him. After all was said and done, he did not want Aiden to remember this experience as frightening, or him as uncaring.

Nigel began to gently stroke his hand down Aiden's smooth, supple stomach, caressing him in a manner not unlike the way Aiden had caressed him earlier on this very night. Now, he supposed, he had a chance to say all those things he'd wanted to say earlier. “You were so good.” Nigel murmured. He leaned in and delicately kissed Aiden's neck, inhaling the heady sweat scent that clung to his hair. “You took it all so well. I know it hurt, pisi, te iubesc.”

It was easier to say such soppy things when he knew Aiden couldn't understand him as well. Still, Aiden would be able to 'feel' what Nigel was saying from his intonations and no doubt understand at least loosely what he meant.

Nigel continued rubbing Aiden's stomach, tracing slow circles with the heel of his palm. “Did you feel good?” He asked cautiously.

“Mm-hm.” Aiden replied, though eyes were closed. Probably very tired. Nigel had woken him up, after all.

“Sometimes things that feel good hurt too.” Mused Nigel. “Just like love, hmm?” Half a joke, half not a joke. Aiden didn't laugh. Probably falling asleep.

Nigel would have liked a chance to...examine him a little, but it didn't seem Aiden's pain was anything serious. For now, he would just let the boy rest. He would be sore when he woke up, but hopefully satisfied as well.

In the future, perhaps, he might be a lot more enthusiastic about Nigel awakening him in the middle of the night!

[moraygrotto]

scenario/fic commission!!

this is a stuffing + hiccuping story with non-specified characters (A&B) commissioned by a lovely patron of the arts who wished to remain anonymous!!

A is a were-bear preparing for hibernation and B is their very caring partner :3

~🐻~

Part of being a were-bear meant living with one’s ursine tendencies. For Character A, that meant a strong feeling of hunger gnawed at the back of their mind every fall, followed by hibernation for the long, cold winter.

Only a few times since becoming a were-bear had A’s stomach truly felt full during this time of year. “You poor dear,” fussed their partner, Character B, upon learning this fact. “I can’t imagine how starving you must feel.”

A had assured B that they had been eating plenty, even put on a healthy amount of hibernation weight, but B’s impulse toward kindness would not be so easily quelled. They wanted their partner to have a comfortable hibernation, to lay down and sleep feeling truly satisfied.

Therefore, returning home the night before their final preparations for the winter, A was touched but not surprised by the rich aroma of homecooked food wafting from the open windows of their house.

“It’s so cold out!” they called to B, removing their coat in the doorway and venturing toward the kitchen. “What’ve you got the windows open for?”

B’s head popped out of the kitchen door, and they waved with one mitt-clad hand. “I’ve been cooking all day. The kitchen got hot.” They grinned. “Besides, you could smell it from outside, yeah? That’s worth a few chilly fingers.”

A silently admitted that it had worked. They were hungrier than ever. “Don’t freeze yourself to death,” they said, tromping into the fragrant kitchen and shutting the windows. “You’ve–” They paused, not sure if they should look down at the steaming array of dishes on the counter. “You’ve already done so much for me.”

B came up to A’s side, and wrapped one arm around them. “This is an important time of year for you,” they said. “I’d like to help however I can.”

After softly kissing B’s head, A let their gaze drop to the dishes. Immediately, they blushed, and felt their stomach rumble. Some of their favorites were laid out in all their glory.

“I’ve got honey-grilled salmon,” B began, gesturing to three glistening pink fish crammed all atop one platter, “some beef stew with nuts and root vegetables,” –they gestured to a bubbling pot on the stovetop– “some fried fish with dipping sauce,” –a small mountain of breaded fish nuggets on a plate– “and I was just about to check on the blackberry pie in the oven!”

A took a starstruck pause before darting back, out of the kitchen workspace. “By all means,” they said, “do check on that pie! This all looks amazing, and the smell is making my mouth water.”

“I’m excited for you to try it,” B mused, opening the oven and retrieving what A could only call a work of art. The dough cover was cut and braided in an intricate pattern, surrounding a bear pawprint with a heart cut out of its center. B looked up at A, now with a matching blush. “I’m sorry,” they said, “is that too corny?”

“Not at all!” A answered at once. “You were thinking of me when you made this, weren’t you?”

“I was thinking of you the whole time!” B said. “That’s why today was so much fun.” They smiled. “It’s all for you.”

As A drank in the sight of the beautiful foods, their stomach seized the moment to let out a monstrous growl.

“Sounds like someone’s eager,” B said, giving their belly a pat.

“Just hungry as always,” admitted A.

“Let’s get eating, then!” B replied. “I’d say to start setting the table, but I think an armchair and TV tray might be better for this meal. Comfiest is best, right?”

The house was still quite chilly. Thus, as B brought dishes out to the living room, A built a fire in the fireplace, and retrieved a blanket from the couch.

“Get nice and cozy,” B commanded, placing the grilled salmon, napkins, silverware, and a tall glass of cranberry juice onto the TV tray next to A’s armchair. They themself perched on a smaller chair, and gestured proudly to the arrangement. “Your throne, my love.”

Carefully, A sank into the seat arranged just for them. B spread the blanket atop their lap, and a napkin thereupon.

“How are you feeling?” B said. “Warm, cozy, and ready to eat?”

A let out a deep breath, relaxing all their muscles and succumbing to the feeling of softness all around. They felt utterly held by the chair, the blanket, the aromatic dish of their favorite salmon, and B’s patient gaze upon them. “You’re the best,” they said softly. “And yeah, I’m ready.”

Reaching for their salmon, they dug in, paying no attention to their speed. The food tasted amazing. No sooner could a tender hunk flake off the bone than it would pop into their mouth with ravenous relish; A wasn’t sure they could stop if they tried.

“You were hungry,” said B, face aglow in the firelight. “That’s my hungry bear. Fill yourself all the way up; don’t hold back a bite.”

A was halfway through their second fish, when they finally breaked, looking up at B. “This is absolutely wonderful,” they gushed. “The honey’s so sweet, and the dash of spice is just perfect, and each little bit is grilled to –HIC!”

Their whole body seemed to squeeze around the hiccup as it burst from their mouth mid-sentence. “Oh dear,” they said faintly. “I… might have eaten a bit too fast…” As they sat there, fork clenched in hand, another hiccup popped out of them.

B leaned in, affecting a frown as they gave A’s chest a rub in the area of their diaphragm. “Why don’t you have some juice?” they said. “That might help.”

A obeyed, trying to hold their breath as they swallowed down some cold juice. Mid-sip, however, another hiccup hit them, causing their whole body to jolt. “I’m not sure it’s helping,” they said faintly.

“Well, that’s okay,” said B, continuing to rub their chest and tummy. “...You can wait for the hiccups to go away naturally, too. There’s merit in letting your body do as it pleases.” Something in their studied frown seemed to melt away. “Besides,” they said coyly, “all your body’s functions are cute to me.”

A was struggling to form a response to the flattery when their belly growled once again. “I suppose I’ll just –hic– keep eating,” they said.

Though the sharp edge was gone from their hunger, A still devoured the rest of the salmon in minutes flat. B’s gentle hands helped each swallow settle sweetly down into their gut, and they grew used to the interruption of hiccups through their feast.

Immediately after cleaning the plate of salmon, B swapped it for the very full dish of fried fish. This, A found, eating with their fingers, was still deliciously hot. The breading was crispy, and biting into each nugget unleashed the succulent juice of fresh-fried fish. “When’d you get so good at makin’ these?” they moaned through a full mouth.

“Just a little practice,” B replied. “I should make them more often, huh? You have that really cute look on your face…”

A tried to retort that it was B who looked cute right now, but the latter popped a fish nugget into their mouth the moment it opened.

A blinked, then hiccupped.

B grinned. “Don’t stop,” they chided. “Sate that hunger. Fill that monster of a belly.” Said belly squished beneath B’s fingers as they kneaded gently in, teasingly at first, then firmer, knowing just where to massage to help A’s digestion.

Carefully, A chewed and swallowed their bite of fish.

“That’s it,” B said, warm hands combining with the warmth from the fire. “Keep eating your fish, now, and I’ll go grab a nice, big bowl of that stew from the stove.”

A waited until B was out of the room, then paused their feast, pressing one hand into their belly. Right beneath their fingertips, their stomach churned, and up their gullet rumbled a low “bbbBBURR–hic!–RRRrrrpp…”

“Darling!” called B from the kitchen. “You better not be saving all your big burps for when I’m not there!”

Sauce dripping from the piece of fish still clasped in hand, A looked up in the direction of B’s voice. “Sorry…” they called back.

“I’d say the same of hiccups,” B said, strolling back into the living room with a big earthenware bowl, “but I know that might be a little harder to control.”

“Well–HIC!–, you’re here now, so I’ll do my best to treat you,” A said with a wink.

“How lucky I am!” B replied, voice equally flirtatious. “Now,” they said, sitting back down in their chair and balancing the bowl on their lap, “how are you feeling? Still just as hungry?”

A smiled. “Urp– Much less, thank you. Though I admit I could eat a lot more.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” B cheered. “I’m so glad all this food is going to such a good place. You’re gonna have the most peaceful hibernation ever, all curled up around that full belly…”

A let B praise them thus, looking up in between bites as they rapidly finished off the rest of the fried fish. “Ready for stew!” they said, body jolting with a pleased little hiccup.

After handing A the bowl of rich and hearty stew, B perched themself on the arm of the chair and wrapped one arm around them, gazing into the fire as A ate.

Though A was already cozy, the stew seemed to seep its soothing warmth into their very bones. The hiccups were not too bothersome anymore, merely soft little hitches that punctuated their sips, occasionally earning them a kiss on the head from B.

“You’re doing so well,” B hummed. “I hope you’re feeling good. I’ll feed you the whole pot of stew, if that’s what it takes to fill you up.”

With its autumn-primed capacity, A’s belly seemed to like that idea, in spite of the food already piled inside. A themself only chuckled. “Let’s take it one bowl at a time,” they said, then picked up theirs and drained its dregs. “Might I request seconds?”

“Absolutely!” said B, taking their dishes from them and scampering off to grab some more. The smell of the cooling pie drifted through in B’s wake as they returned.

“I can’t wait for dessert,” A admitted, looking down at their blanket-covered belly. “I’m finally starting to fill up, thanks to this delicious stew.”

“Hold on,” teased B, “if you’re just now starting to fill up, that means you’re nowhere near ready for dessert. Can you eat this bowl of stew for me first, my love?”

A obliged, taking the bowl from their partner and happily spooning it into their mouth.

“Your hiccups went away,” B said, almost as if disappointed by the fact.

A grinned, and wiped their face off with a napkin. “Got too focused on your cooking,” they said.

As they gulped down the rest of the stew bowl, however, they felt a tightness in their belly, familiar but missed like an old friend. They struggled to swallow the last oversized mouthful, before– “glp–HIC!”

“I jinxed it!” cried B, flopping forward and giving their belly a pat. “Lemme go get you some more. And if you’re good, and eat it all–” They poked A on the nose. “–I’ll let you have pie à la mode.”

“You really know how to –hic– treat a bear,” A said as B went to refill their bowl yet again. Washing their mouth out with juice, they felt the same press inside. Miraculously, they were full.

They yawned, and stretched carefully as to not bump into the tray. Their body felt pleasantly heavy, and they knew now was the time to relax. “Darling,” they said as B returned, “I’ll do my best to finish this bowl of stew, but I can’t make any guarantees.”

“You’ll finish it,” B assured them.

“I’m not actually sure if–”

“Yeah, you will,” they said. “You’ve got me here.”

“I appreciate your support, but–”

“Say aaah~” Alighting back upon their little chair, B held out a spoonful of stew to A. “Just gotta finish this, and then we’ll move on to pie. You’ve always had a pretty big dessert stomach, so I doubt some nice pie will cause any trouble. First, though–”

Obediently, A opened their mouth. A chunk of broth-logged beef squished on their tongue, suffusing its savory taste throughout their mouth. Somehow, food tasted better when delivered by B’s hand. At this tender acceptance, they let themself sink into the easy rhythm of eating the proffered bites, with time to savor in between each.

They relaxed into the feeling of food pushing out on their stomach, eased by the occasional burp, jostled by the occasional hiccup. It took a long moment thereafter to realize that B had stopped feeding them, and both hands were now tenderly rubbing their belly.

A blinked their eyes open, one at a time, then licked their lips.

“Ready for pie?” B whispered over the crackling of the fire.

“Only if –hic!– you feed it to me,” A replied.

“Oh, gladly,” said B. “Sit back and relax, and I’ll get you a nice big helping with ice cream!”

A may have dozed off a minute, for the next thing they knew was a spoonful of warm blackberry pie and cool vanilla ice cream at their lips, accompanied by B’s hand gently opening their jaw.

“Not many bears get this kinda treatment for their hibernations,” B was saying.

“Mmm–thank you,” A replied after swallowing. B had been right. The moment the sweet pie hit their tongue, their stomach burbled, yearning for more. A sleepy food coma, however, still clouded their brain, so they were grateful for B’s careful feeding and encouragement.

“How does that feel?”

“Hic–urrp– So good…”

“Ready for the next slice?”

A had not realized they had finished a slice, only in retrospect realized the warm fingertips placing a chunk of buttery crust between their lips must have been delivering its very last bite.

“Ready for anything,” A mumbled. “I trust you.”

“I’m proud of you for eating so much,” B said over the sound of their fork. “Settling down tomorrow should be a breeze. Just promise me one thing, okay?”

A swallowed a bite of pie, and grunted a little “hm?”

“Dream about me?”

Chuckling, A tried to lean forward, into the hand kneading into the rolls of their stomach, and B’s warm presence. “I’ll –hic– do my best,” they stuttered out, and shut their eyes. All the food now filling their belly was thanks to B. Of course they would remember them, even in their sleep.

“Good,” said B. They snuck a quick kiss atop their lips, then slipped in a forkful of blackberry pie.

[ambyandony]

a girl who's pure of heart and says her prayers by night…

(jjba oc x canon fanfic)

Summary:

Mista, an experienced monster hunter, experiences quite the shock when he happens to recognise the werewolf he's chasing down.

It was the dead of night. 

The streets were empty. Silence hung heavy as the streetlamps flickered.

The bright moon shone down upon the city, soaking it in an intense, yet serene energy.

And then the gentle nocturne was disrupted by the sudden commotion slicing through the midnight air.

There was the heavy thump of someone’s boots upon the worn pavement as they sprinted onward, and the clicking of claws and scraping of a beast’s thundering paws against the ground.

It was the pursuit of hunter and prey, a game of cat and mouse between beast and man.

However, here, it was man in pursuit while the creature he hunted fled for its life. He kept pace with the monster, never falling too far behind while it staggered along frantically.

No matter how many corners it turned, he never lost its track, due in part to the trail of blood and pawprints the already-wounded monster left behind. He was uncertain whether its injury had been caused by him, or another, less-skilled hunter before him, but the specifics didn’t matter.

He was out for blood, aiming to kill the beast. He was armed well with a loaded revolver, good energy reserves, and his Stand.

He was more than familiar with these streets; he knew where each next turn would lead. The beast, having no wherewithal to focus on such a thing, was solely running to survive, to evade the hunter it no doubt knew had the advantage. More to his benefit, this most certainly wasn’t his first hunt.

He’d been doing this for a couple of years now, and he was a reasonably experienced hunter—which unquestionably meant his prey stood no chance. Besides, this was his heritage—he was from a long lineage of hunters. Creatures like this, they were dangerous and unholy, and he, like his family extensively before him, was a man of God, honour-bound to rid the world of them. 

Or… that’s how he saw it. 

It was a werewolf (lycanthrope, technically, lycan if you want to be pedantic). Relatively common, and werewolves had always been his family’s main hunt. He’d been on its trail for much of the night.

The chase had only started after he’d fired at it, and he had no way of knowing for sure if his silver bullet had hit, as the beast had fled immediately. As a result, all he could be sure of was that his shot didn’t kill it; thus, he had to follow.

It wasn't often he'd have to use a second bullet on a single monster, but he didn't have time to wonder why he'd fucked up this time. He’d noticed the blood trail it was tracking after he’d started running. He’d figured that would be its downfall; it would eventually grow too weak to run if he couldn’t trap it.

But on the path it was running now, it seemed it wouldn’t take much longer before it might corner itself. His anticipation was building as he started closing in on the creature, his finger already set on the trigger of his handgun, borderline exhilarated by the prospect of killing the beast. He had little sympathy for this creature that he perceived as an unholy, dangerous, remorseless monster that would only pose a threat to the whole city, should he allow it to survive, which wasn’t really his favourite outcome.

And if the werewolf were to take the next couple of turns in the directions he expected, he would have it cornered and wouldn’t have to bother with outlasting it. And sure enough, the creature, now losing its speed from its injury, rounded the corner and then barrelled into a dead-end alleyway, boxing itself in, leaving no opening for escape. 

He finally had the beast where he needed it, coming to a stop at the mouth of the alley. He took just a moment to catch his breath before raising and aiming his gun, ready to bring this miserable creature’s life to an end.

But as his hands pulled for the trigger, he froze, something catching his eye. 

The werewolf, cowering, its tail tucked, desperately attempting to claw at the wall like that might open an escape route, turned to fearfully look at him. It had a single feature that stood out to him most of all. In most aspects, it looked like any other werewolf of this type would, and although it distinctly looked frail and starved, his focus had gone to its fur.

On its head and down around its shoulders, like many other lycans, it possessed a ‘mane’, which had a colour which struck him as very familiar. In spite of the night’s darkness, he could faintly see by the streetlight that it had a minty colour and highlights, and those colours on the long, somewhat wavy tresses of its mane reminded him strongly of someone he knew well. Very well.

And though he instinctively followed through to pull the trigger, the gun stopped, the bullet never leaving the chamber.

The wounded lycan still flinched and cowered back, its ears flat against its head, one arm going to cover its pre-existing injuries on its chest, the other paw still resting on the wall. Sheer terror was held in its gold-tinted eyes as it heaved and stared down the barrel of the revolver pointed firmly at it. 

It didn’t want to die. Especially not like this. Especially not at the hands of this hunter.

And on his end, for the first time in his years of hunting, he hesitated, his hands shaking slightly as he gripped his gun, finger moving from the trigger. At first, he wasn’t sure what it was that had caused him to stop, caused his Stand to refuse. As the realisation started to creep in, his eyes widened slightly, and he locked up, an uneasy silence falling upon the scene as he kept his gun trained on the werewolf.

He typically wasn’t one to let even a strange situation get the better of him, and he tried to keep himself steeled. He wasn’t afraid—definitely not, far from it. What he was was startled, taken aback, and perhaps a bit…in disbelief. But he figured out why the werewolf was so familiar. And he didn’t like it.

He faltered, uneasily lowering his gun and taking a step back, quietly swallowing his breath and opening his mouth.

“A—”

He stammered a bit.

“An— y-you—”

He paused to collect himself.

“Limbo?”

The werewolf froze immediately, still cowering but completely still for a moment, ears pricking ever so slightly. Recognition flashed in its eyes for a moment, which set a horrible sense of dread in the back of his mind.

“Is… that you?”

God, please let him be wrong. 

It slowly lowered itself to the ground, its fear gradually lessening. It was still trembling but now looked at him more expectantly than fearfully. It was still afraid, very afraid. 

He flinched slightly, removing one hand from the gun. He held his arm out to try to seem less threatening, but didn’t holster, unsure how volatile the werewolf might be.

“Oh Jesus Christ, what the fuck. What the fuck,” he muttered distressedly, under his breath.

“Alright…”

He returned to his regular volume, moving to take one tentative step towards it. Still the slightest bit tense, he still kept a calm voice.

“Easy, girl.” 

The werewolf didn’t take its eyes off him, keeping its chest covered, huddling back against the wall. It was still breathing heavily, likely from its weakened state. 

“You… do you… recognise me—?” 

The werewolf made a gruff barking noise, and it took a lot of extra effort for him not to raise his gun and shoot again to kill the damn thing, tensing for a moment. He still wasn’t sure what he’d just encountered, but he spoke to it like it was her anyway…

“—Come on, don’t be like that, babygirl.” 

He furrowed his brow, taking another step, unsure how to take this situation. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you—”

He paused, teeth gritting. 

But he had hurt her, or at least tried to, hadn’t he? He’d shot at her. He’d told Limbo before, that day in the car, that she’d be safe with him. He’d nearly shot her to death. Hell, if the Pistols hadn’t stopped the bullet, she’d be dead. And even now, he kept a hand on the revolver, ready to kill her at the first wrong move.

“...I’m not gonna hurt you again, I promise.”

He grimaced. 

He didn’t like making that promise, not to a werewolf. 

Even if she was his girlfriend.

He took another step towards her, very slowly moving to holster his gun. As soon as it was away, she seemed to calm down more, still wary but less prepared to run. She had shifted her posture, appearing now less defensive but still shaky. And in return, he untensed slightly, taking yet another step and gently holding out his hand, though it went so far against his better judgment. 

What was he doing?  He should just kill the thing. Kill it now. Shoot the damn thing. It’s dangerous. Who cares if it’s Limbo. It’s still a fucking werewolf. It needs to die. For a half second, he reached for his gun again... 

But he didn’t have the heart, suddenly.

Maybe he cared if it was Limbo.

She rose slowly, lifting her head just enough to meet the offered hand. He waited patiently as she sniffed weakly and lowered her head. He moved to pet her softly, to which she dragged herself closer to him, and her tail slowly started to wag.

“Oh, this is fucked up. This is fucked up. This is so fucking fucked up.” 

He sighed as he untensed as much as he could. Now that she had calmed, and he had calmed as well, the situation was somewhat easier to process. But still too crazy to take at face value.

Lycanthropes were the Mista family’s main hunt. Practically since the Guild’s inception, that’d been the case. Did Limbo know? When had this happened? Had Limbo known this whole time? Had his girlfriend known that he hunted lycanthropes like her the entire time? Why hadn’t she told him?  

…had she been afraid that he would attack her if she did? 

…

Then again, maybe it was a justified fear.

He cautiously lowered himself, crouching a bit as he continued to gently stroke her fur. That was, until he noticed she was still heaving to breathe. Quickly but as calmly as possible, he pulled away. He paused. 

“An—er— babygirl, lemme see your chest— you’re hurt.” He gently reached to move one of her arms aside, and she snarled, flinching back. He jumped a bit but put his arms up defensively, having to once again consciously stop himself from grabbing his gun again.

God, he wanted to. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Easy girl, easy! I’m jus’ tryna help, you’re hurt— lemme see!” 

Once she calmed back down, he gently moved to very slowly nudge the arm aside again, taking a look at her chest and discovering two bleeding bullet holes, looking dangerously close to her vitals. His face twisted in distress as he examined them, then moved back.

One of them was definitely his work.

Why the Hell did he feel so…

… so bad about shooting a werewolf?

“Shit, babygirl, looks pretty rough… I don’t… Shit, I don’t know what to do. This… this shit don’t usually happen. But I… I guess I can’t just leave you here.” 

He glanced around and sighed. 

“I guess I… I guess I should take ya back home then. You won’t last much longer out here, will ya, between me and whichever other hunter is out tonight… must be a newbie. C’mon baby, let’s go.”

He gently patted his lap, prompting her to get up and hobble hurriedly alongside him, which put him on edge. Even knowing or at least assuming it was her, the girl he loved, there was still a part of him that itched to take his gun and finish her off.

He didn't like the idea that there was a werewolf following him.

—

“...I think it would be worth it to at least try to make a grapefruit sandwich…”

So thought the new don of Passione as he stood in the kitchen at the unholy hour of 2 in the morning (this was not uncommon), thoughtfully taking a bite of a grapefruit. 

Peel included, of course.

He paused, turned on his heel and leaned over to grab the loaf of bread.

“What’s stopping me, after all?”

He went to open the bread, and then—

The sound of the door handle.

He paused, turning his attention moreso towards the door than his grapefruit sandwich endeavours; Grapefruit State averted.

He was unsure who it might be, but considering he’d just watched Fugo retire to his bedroom about ten minutes ago, his bet was Mista.

Though for Mista, they had to admit, this was quite the subtle entrance, as they barely heard the door creak open.

Something was wrong. He could feel it. 

Without a word, he summoned Gold Experience—not because he expected a fight, but because he expected it’d be needed.

After all, he could smell blood, although faint, likely only perceptible to him because of the nature of his being.

And then he heard speaking.

It was Mista.             

“Alright babygirl, I... I guess I can probably sneak ya up to my room…? That ain’t gonna help much, though, is it.” 

He was trying to be quiet, though he was admittedly rather terrible at it.

But who could he possibly be talking to? Regardless of the context clues, Giorno instantly found out the answer to that question as he very nonchalantly emerged from the kitchen, startling both the man and the lycan. Both turned to look at him, and the lycan growled for half a second before stopping, its ears perking up.

He silently stared at both of them for a minute. 

“Ah. Mista and Limbo-sama.”

As he politely greeted them, and Gold Experience—who floated behind him—waved cheerfully, Mista stifled a startled choking noise.

“What the fuck?”

“What?”

“How did you—ugh, nevermind."

Mista sighed and shook his head, realising he should probably be used to this sort of thing already. Giorno simply stood there, smiling, completely and utterly unfazed, answering the question that Mista hadn’t asked:

“I’ve known.”

They glanced at the lycan and hummed in thought.

“Is it possible I could be of assistance?”

Mista stared blankly at them for a minute, then gently rested a hand on Limbo’s head. 

“She’s hurt,” he responded rather quietly, with a hint of weakness he hated showing in his voice. 

“D’ya think you could help her..? I don’t know how these things work; I usually just… er, well, you know.” 

Giorno paused only a moment to think before responding. Gold Experience was already floating worriedly around the lycan, its face set in an expression of intense concern. Limbo seemed to be watching it passively.

“I think we should try , at the least. Certainly, we cannot leave her like this. I only worry if she may try to attack me or Gold Experience because of the pain whilst it is healing. In truth, I cannot remember if I’d ever had to heal her in this form before.” 

Mista was petting the lycan’s head the entire time Giorno was speaking, nodding at the end, seeming somewhat out of it.

The hand that he wasn’t petting her with was tightly clenched.

Giorno tilted their head slightly at this clear tension, then continued.

“Alright then… Come along, Limbo-sama, let’s go sit down.”

As Giorno moved to enter the living room, though, Limbo seemed hesitant to leave Mista’s side and follow.

Though, in truth, she was afraid to turn her back to him.

Mista furrowed his brow and slowly removed his hand from her head.

She whined softly, and he felt a slight pang in his heart, but he moved to head into the living room after Giorno, patting his thigh to try to get her to follow. She limped hurriedly after him, and he awkwardly paused, glancing between her, Giorno and the couch. After a moment, with a sigh, he reached to awkwardly pat the couch cushion. 

“C’mon babygirl, can ya hop up here? Just jump on up here for me and sit down?” 

Giorno raised a brow slightly but said nothing in particular.

She stared at him warily, then clambered up on the couch, sitting down, still seeming rather anxious, eyes fixed on Mista.

“Right… Let’s see…” 

Giorno glanced at the wounds and collected a few inconsequential odds and ends off the coffee table, things he would have to tidy up later anyway, handing them up to his Stand. 

“I believe this should suffice.” 

As Gold Experience moved to try and start healing, however, Limbo snapped at it and snarled in apparent distress, ears lowering, cowering back. Gold Experience, in response, flinched back, seeming surprised, pouting, and Giorno grimaced the slightest bit. 

“I don’t think that was terribly necessary, Limbo-sama… you’re not usually this aggressive towards us…”

He sighed, glancing at Mista, who seemed somewhere between baffled and frustrated that Giorno was acting like this was a normal thing they had prior experience with. 

“Do you think you may be able to keep her calm so that Gold Experience can heal her?”

Mista gritted his teeth and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly in response. Keeping lycans calm wasn’t really in his skill set (or his job description), but if this was Limbo…

“I can… try?”

“Well, it’s that, or we ‘temporarily decommission’ her,” Giorno calmly stated with a subtly violent gesture, to which Mista winced, “…and I’m sure neither of us are particularly in the mood to do such a thing.”

“Alright, alright, don’t get impatient; I’ll try an’ keep her calm—” 

He shuffled over to where she was on the couch, slowly. 

“Hey, hey, easy, they’re just tryna help…” 

She slowly seemed to relax again, allowing him to gently pet her as a distraction whilst Gold Experience slowly healed the bullet wounds. Once the ‘procedure’ was underway, Giorno turned to Mista with a gently chiding tone, which Mista (especially considering he was older) was slightly insulted by. 

“You know, Mista, it is usually considered bad form to shoot your partner.”

He winced at the implied accusation. 

“How was I supposed to know she was a fucking werewolf!? You guys know I hunt, and you knew about this, too?! Ain’t nobody bothered t’ tell me !—I didn’t know it was her ‘til after I fired!”

“Twice?”

“I only fired once.”

“Hm. Strangely, there are two bullet wounds here.”

“I’m not the only hunter in Naples, Giorno! Another hunter must’ve tried to get to her first without silver bullets. Probably some newbie!”

He pointed to one of the two wounds, which was partially healed. 

“See how that one’s kinda ragged at the entry point? That’ll happen with a normal bullet, but the silver bullets I use will burn through, so it’s cleaner, see? I don’t use normal bullets on werewolves 'cause they’re less effective.”

He thoughtlessly traced a finger around the rim of the bullet hole. A whine from the werewolf quickly drew Mista’s attention back to her, and he quickly retracted his hand, realising he’d essentially been messing about as if she were a dead body that wouldn’t really care if he touched the bullet wounds. 

Giorno narrowed his eyes slightly, leaning slightly towards Limbo, seemingly trying to get a closer look at her injuries when Gold Experience winced and suddenly retracted its hands.

“…Well, I’m not sure you should consider this a good thing, considering you shot your own girlfriend, but yours was certainly much closer to her heart and probably would have killed her if you’d struck a few centimetres to the left. It went completely through, as well, which is , I think, probably a good thing, considering the silver. The other bullet seems to have gotten lodged, so I had Gold Experience use that to heal it. But the bullet wound you left seems to be… resistant to the healing.”

Mista tilted his head as if confused as to why Giorno was pointing this out. He spoke bluntly like it was the most obvious thing in the world:

“Well yeah, silver bullets burn, and these ones’re designed to kinda break up when they pass through and leave small slivers inside the wound to make it harder for the wound to heaoooohhh that’s a problem, ain’t it?” 

Giorno stared, utterly dumbfounded by this, and then gave a very rare slight glare, presumably indignant to the casual nature of his comment. Despite this, their tone was mostly calm… at first.

“Yes, yes, I’d imagine that would be a problem, Mista; the fact that there are silver shards left inside of the wound that are preventing healing while I am attempting to heal her, Mista, and the fact that you did not bother to mention this to me beforehand, Mista.” 

Giorno paused as Gold Experience frowned—pouted, really—at Mista, lightly shaking its hand, then pointedly added:

“Especially as I am, you realise, yes? Also burnt by silver, Mista?” 

He winced at the gradually intensifying agitation in Giorno’s voice, which was an unusual thing to hear. He averted his eyes, feeling accordingly guilty that it had completely slipped his mind that vampires (he knew, of course; he’d found it easier to come to terms with a friend of his being a vampire than he would with a werewolf) also had a silver weakness. 

“It—d-didn’t occur to me.” he admitted nervously. 

Further, it’d also kind of slipped his mind that his silver bullets were explicitly designed to make it much harder for monsters to survive and that this would be a problem in the endeavour of trying to help his girlfriend survive. 

Kind of inhumane, sure, but he didn’t view the wolf forms as ‘human’— as people, that was to say; and he had accordingly failed to fully acknowledge in his mind that he’d just discovered that his girlfriend—who he obviously viewed as a person—was a lycanthrope, and that until he’d realised it was her, he’d not considered her a person at all. 

At the time, he had felt that shooting her with the silver bullet was perfectly justified, and now he was faced with the moral quandary of finding out it was, in fact, his beloved girlfriend he’d just broken Geneva conventions against. He started questioning his own morality, but Giorno’s voice snapped him back to focus on the current situation. 

“Well, I’m glad it was brought to my attention sooner rather than later. I don’t suppose that you, as a hunter, would happen to know how to neutralise the silver?”

“That’s—”

He spluttered slightly. 

“Th-that’s not really… part’a the job, no.”

The two looked her way as Limbo shifted, her posture slightly hunched. 

She was getting tired.

Getting tired meant the blood loss might be getting too much for her to stay conscious.

Giorno winced in sympathy for the condition she was in, Gold Experience gently petting her in an attempt to at least make her feel a little better—the Stand tended to have the effect of being quite soothing. 

“Well, I hate to say it, but unlike the other bullet, because the shards are highly concentrated silver, Gold Experience can’t seem to transform them into organic matter. I… can try to heal around the shards, but…” 

He frowned. 

“If I go around the silver and seal the wound up completely, the shards will be stuck inside her, and she may feel the pain… well. Indefinitely. That is to say, for the foreseeable future. I’m sure neither of us wants to inflict that upon her.

Short of an x-ray, I don’t think there would be a way to locate all of the shards after that and extract them. I’m assuming the shards are also small enough to be overlooked on a scan, which could also pose problems.”

Mista felt a slight bout of panic arise as Giorno explained the complications, racking his brain for any way he could think of to, as Giorno put it, neutralise the silver. In the meantime, Giorno continued.

“I—or Gold Experience—could also possibly try to dig the shards out and then heal the wound, but I’m fairly certain that that would be incredibly painful for all three of us, and I’m not much more willing to put myself through that than I am to put her through it.”

Mista’s head snapped up.

“Wait, well—I’m just a human, so—maybe the Pistols could do it? Like, get the silver out? It’ll probably take a bit, but I think it’s possible…”

Giorno raised a brow.

“Well, it certainly sounds like a better plan than having Gold Experience try to do it.”

Mista scratched the back of his neck. He felt like all the worrying he was dealing with was gonna give him hives or something. He was thinking way too much tonight, considering he was… well… him.

Thinking real hard about things wasn’t his specialty.

“I’m just worried she might still… I dunno, lose it while they’re trying to get the silver out.”

“She may not be able to stay conscious much longer, so that might not be a problem.”

“That’s—probably not a good thing, Gio!”

“Yes, I suppose not.”

He gritted his teeth and steadied himself as quickly as he could manage, grabbing his gun to ready the Pistols. 

“Alright, we’ll just… have to do it now.”

“I can use Gold Experience to try and keep her calm and conscious.”

Mista nodded slightly, and Gold Experience hovered over to Limbo, taking the excuse to cuddle the puppy—er, lycan—and the hug it gave seemed to somehow work; she seemed to stay awake and relatively calm (if slightly distressed) while the Pistols tried their best to extract the shards of silver; Mista guessed they were mainly towards the entry wound, since, as he understood, the silver shards were meant to break off on impact. Sure enough, the Pistols seemed able to figure out where the shards stopped within the wound, not too far in, so Giorno prompted Gold Experience to try healing from the exit wound, which proved to be much easier, without further silver burning. It must have felt very strange for Limbo, but she didn’t seem to have the energy to panic about it. 

Mista was glad he’d gotten her home when he did. He guessed so, anyway.

Giorno simply did his best to observe the progress on both sides of the wound while Mista directed the Pistols however much he was able. After a bit, all—or most, at least—of the slivers had been retrieved, and Gold Experience was delighted to finally heal over the burnt internal flesh. 

“That should do,” Giorno declared finally.

“Mista, what will you do now?”

Mista grinned awkwardly, an unusual exhaustion in his eyes.

“I have… no idea.”

Giorno nodded in response as Gold Experience worriedly hovered around Limbo, checking for any other injuries they may have missed. 

“I don’t think you can leave her in here. The house is not 'dog-proof'. Among other things.”

“Dog—Giorno she is a fucking werewolf,” Mista sneered, giving Giorno a mild look of exasperation.

Giorno raised their brows, blinking in slight surprise.

“Well, there’s no need to say it so harshly; you may upset her. Hunter or not, wolf or not, don’t you think your own girlfriend is worth seeing as a person?” 

He stared at Giorno for a bit, unnerved, then sighed. 

“I guess I can take her up to my room… and… figure out what to do in the morning.”

“I think that may be a good idea.”

“Are— are you going to bed?”

“No. Not yet. I’ve had a brilliant idea again. I need to try it, if only for the experience, and I finally have the opportunity.”

“So basically you’re going to try to make a grapefruit sandwich again because I’m too tired to stop you from bringing that affront to God into being?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Well, okay, have fun with that, boss.” 

He shook his head and stepped back, trying to get Limbo’s attention by patting his thigh yet again to prompt her to follow as he headed upstairs, and she scrambled after him. 

They weren’t particularly quiet going up the stairs. 

Less than half a minute after the two went into Mista’s room, Giorno heard a door open and a quiet, severely disgruntled voice saying, 

“What, pray tell, the absolute fuck are you degenerates doing at half-past two in the fucking morning?” 

Calmly, Giorno turned on his heel and walked into view of where Fugo, clearly just rudely awoken, had poked his head out of his room.

 “You should go back to sleep,” they said in a tone that was somehow almost more of an apology than a suggestion, and Fugo, not in the mood to have to learn about whatever hell had just transpired, quietly withdrew into the room and shut the door. Giorno would just give him the short version of the story later, they figured.  —

Mista slept like a rock, of course. 

He always did. 

Limbo, still in wolf form, had fallen asleep—probably moreso due to blood loss exhaustion than actual sleepiness—on the floor beside him, under a blanket he’d tossed to her before he’d promptly collapsed on the bed and conked out instantly. When he awoke, though, in the morning, there was no werewolf—or blanket—beside him. Instead, after it took him a few minutes to open his eyes, he saw a huddled figure quivering in the corner of his room.

He reached for his gun but, for once, paused before pointing it, slowly remembering the previous night.

He was lucky to control his trigger finger this time, considering how many incidents of shooting at the mirror he had; he avoided a shooting first thing in the morning.

Instead of worrying about a potential intruder in his room, his focus went to double-checking himself for injury to make sure he wasn’t mauled in his sleep as if that was a thing he wouldn’t notice immediately. 

Then he turned his attention to the trembling figure hiding under the blanket in the corner, and took his best guess at who the figure was.

“Limbo?”

There was a sharp inhale and a quiet whimper. It took a couple of seconds for his eyes to adjust fully to being awake, but when they did, he could tell she was crying. He couldn’t see her face or really hear it, but he could tell by the shake of her shoulders and the ragged way she was breathing. He sighed quietly and got out of bed, tucking his gun into his waistband, then shuffled over and crouched down. 

“‘Ey babygirl, you okay?” he asked softly, refraining from touching her. And wondering why the fuck he would ask her such a stupid fucking question. Why the fuck would she be okay after all that? 

 There was another sharp inhale, and her voice came ever-so-quietly to say what seemed to be her favourite phrase:

“I’m sorry.”

It was watery and barely reached above a whisper. 

He calmly sat down in front of her, generally unfazed, at least at first, bothered mostly only by her distress. 

She sounded utterly distraught, and he hated how painful it seemed when she was upset. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

He already knew what was upsetting her, but he asked anyway, giving her the option to use the language that… she would be more comfortable with, he supposed. 

He aimed to handle this situation as maturely as he could, trying his best for her.

“I didn’t want you to know… especially not like this…! I’m sorry… I… I didn’t want you to find out…” 

She sniffled. 

He frowned, casually running a hand through his hair. The situation was awkward, and he had a bad feeling, but he tried to avoid saying anything directly. 

“You didn’t want me to find out—” 

“—That I’m a monster, Mista… just say it. And don’t try to say I’m not a monster. I know you think I am. I know what you think of things like me. I am a monster . ” 

It broke his heart a little. 

He couldn’t deny it. 

He’d thought she was a monster.

At first, because he didn’t know it was her, but when he’d recognised her…

He still hadn’t humanised her. His thought hadn’t been that Limbo was still Limbo. 

His thought had been, ‘When did Limbo become a monster?’ 

And he realised now, looking back at the previous night’s events, that if Giorno was this casual about it, then she’d been this way. The whole time he’d known her. Nothing had actually changed. She hadn’t ‘become a monster’. 

He’d just stopped seeing her as a person because he found out she was one. 

Christ’s sake, he’d been treating her like a dog the whole time she was in wolf form. Sure, just now, he’d been treating her how he would’ve treated her before he found out: like a person and with love, because he loved her, of course.

But that was because his brain didn’t automatically connect her with the werewolf he’d brought home the night before. Because she was in her standard form, the form he’d always known her in, a form where she could talk, a form where she looked… normal. He wasn’t fully acknowledging that the two entities were the same because he… loved her but… was resistant to love a werewolf. 

And when he did connect the two, it took him a few seconds to realise his expression had sharpened to a glare. That he suddenly didn’t see her as human. That he considered shooting her right now. It’d be easy. She was right in front of him. He had his gun right there.  

No, what the fuck was he thinking?! 

It was alarming how quickly his hunter’s instinct overtook his civility.

And it took this self-reflection for him to realise that even now, even with her in her human form , he was regarding the girl he loved with…

Disgust.

Hatred.

He realised that, thinking of her right now… he saw her as nothing more than a monster.

But to hear her call herself a monster hit him a bit hard, and sobered him up a bit; he took a step back mentally, pushing himself to really consider this whole situation.

How dare he think of his girlfriend even now as some kind of dangerous creature that didn’t deserve to fucking live ?!

She was the same person she’d always been!

The same girl he’d fallen in love with!

She hated conflict; she was the sweetest person he knew.

Hell, for all Mista knew, she hadn’t even done anyone any harm as a werewolf.

She was…

…She was…

She was scared of him.

He was silent only a moment, both taken aback and slightly unsure of what to say, but when he opened his mouth to speak, she spoke again, quietly, before he could get a single word out. 

“ If you’re going to do it, please just do it .” 

The plea stung him to his core and drove back any desire to bring her harm, werewolf or not. Slowly, he came to terms with it; he forced himself to consciously recognise that she was still Limbo , and he had no justification for treating her differently.  

He furrowed his brow, grimacing. Not the kind of crisis he was really expecting to handle first thing in the morning, and yet.

He forced himself to step back mentally and recalibrate his mind to make his declaration true. 

“I don’t… think you’re a monster, Limbo,” he asserted delicately.

“Why are you lying to me?! I’m a werewolf , Mista… I am a monster. I don’t even know why you let me… live or why you let me stay in here… I don’t know why you’re bothering to try and deny it…!” 

She shuffled, the blankets shifting until one teary eye and a bit of her mint-green hair could be seen amongst the safety of the little cocoon she made around herself. 

And that—seeing her in her human form—jarred him back to his senses further somewhat. 

That’s right. 

Limbo was still Limbo. 

Limbo was the same person she’d always been. 

Limbo wasn’t a monster.

Limbo wasn’t a monster.

Limbo. Wasn’t. A monster . 

He rubbed his face a bit, trying to push the glare away, his expression softening. He adjusted himself, trying to ensure his posture didn’t seem threatening.

“Listen, piccola. You didn’t do anything wrong. Y’didn’t hurt me, or Giorno, or anyone else, ‘far as I know.” 

“But how could you be sure?! Even if I didn’t, I could’ve! I’m a monster , Mista… I know what you think of me. Of people, creatures like me. I’m dangerous and unholy. You don’t have to lie to me now… I understand if you hate me, and I understand if you want me… gone.”

He gave her an odd, stern look in response, nose scrunching ever so slightly as if in mild disgust. 

Then he sighed, taking a deep breath and leaning slightly, sliding his gun across the floor away from arm’s reach in hopes of giving his reassurance more weight to her. 

She was clearly scared that he was going to use it.

“Listen to me, alright? I’m gonna tell you somethin’ important, got it?” 

He gave her a serious, but now gentle look. 

“You got it all wrong… I… I think we both do.”

She stayed quiet, staring at him silently, the blanket still wrapped tightly around herself.

“I can’t and don’t hate you, and I definitely do not want you gone . None of that shit. You’re not a monster. It… I… I might’ve thought of you as one, yeah. My… my mind is all wrong right now, and to be honest, I started thinking of you as… bad. But… not now. And not ever again. You’re still a person, baby, ‘same person you’ve always been and… I guess I got some things I need to work out in my brain about this whole situation, but… I’ve started with you. I still love you.”

He took a deep breath.

“I guess you’ve got a lotta stuff going on with you that I don’t understand yet. And I guess I’ve had some nasty thoughts about you since last night. 

But you’re not a monster, angel.”

She let out a whine and a breathy sob, frantically wiping at her eyes with a bloodied hand. It must’ve been the one that she was covering her injuries with…

…

Right.

They were her injuries.

She had been injured.

His brain finally managed to decipher it, such that he could finally see her the way he wanted to again: Limbo wasn’t the werewolf, the werewolf was Limbo. 

“I am a monster. I never wanted this; I never wanted you to find out, but now you know I’m a monster, and I’m dangerous. What if I did do something wrong?! I don’t even know what I did last night!”

Though his instinct was to hug her, comfort her, he still managed to refrain from doing so, not wanting to potentially spook her.

“It…” he hesitated a bit, but continued firmly, “It doesn’t matter if you could’ve done somethin’ wrong because you didn’t. You didn’t hurt me , you didn’t hurt Giorno, you did nothing wrong . I did somethin’ wrong for damn sure. I hurt you, and…God, I shouldn’t have done that. I realised too late, I—I wouldn’t have done it if I knew it was you…” 

He had a twinge in the back of his mind where he got a bad feeling that… 

That wasn’t true.

 If he’d known it was her in wolf form from the start…

He probably still would’ve pulled the trigger, wouldn’t he?

At least once.

And he would probably still have pulled that trigger the second time. And it would’ve been up to the Pistols’ intervention whether or not he would end up shooting his sweet girlfriend dead in cold blood.

He tried not to let it show, his discomfort over this disconcerting realisation: the sickening thought that he would’ve broken his promise to protect her knowingly if he had known. 

The thought that he would’ve killed her knowing he would be killing Limbo. He wondered if he would’ve had the nerve to look her in the eye when he pulled the trigger.

He was glad, more than anything, that this time, he had failed. 

And that it was his own soul that knew he wanted to fail.

He hardly missed a beat.

“…but that don’t change the fact I did it. I’m… so sorry… an’ I hope you can forgive me. I’ve got some things I gotta come to terms with. But I still love you. You may be a werewolf, but you’re still my angel, angel. C’mon, let me see your face, please?” 

She sniffled. 

“Are you… sure?” she asked softly, her voice still wavering but a bit stronger than before.

“Why would I ask you if I wasn’t sure?”

Shakily, she adjusted the blanket until her face was visible, though the blanket still covered most of her. He smiled a bit, quietly taking in her features. 

He very slowly reached toward her. He hesitated, unsure if she’d even want his affection after what he’d done and how he’d admitted his own cruel mentality about her. 

“Can I…?”

She nodded slowly, sniffling. He moved his hand to gently cup her cheek. His hand was comforting, warm, and she leaned into it by instinct, moving one of her own hands to rest it against his. 

“ There , now I see my beautiful girl.”

He let himself relax with a slightly cocky grin. He gingerly tilted her head up and studied her face. Then he paused, his smile dropping a bit, , “But there’s still something I’m seein’ as a problem here…” 

She froze a little, looking… scared. She was tense, sure he was about to break her heart. Her voice was tiny, trembling.

“Wh- what ?”

He paused for another moment, gently wiping away a tear with his thumb. 

“You’re still crying, angel. You look so tired.” 

She exhaled heavily, more tears flowing out regardless, which he wiped away again. 

Her arms felt weak, but she slowly moved the one she’d already freed from the blanket, reaching out to him, making a single gentle grabbing gesture, begging with her eyes. 

He smiled softly and moved to bridge the gap between them, gently but firmly wrapping his arms around her, letting her do the same and cling to his warm torso. He lovingly held her and rocked slightly, rubbing her back softly through the blanket still covering her. She leant into him, head against his shoulder, no longer crying but still sniffling softly. 

“You believe me, right, angel? I still love you. I will always love you.” 

He rested his chin atop her head, and she responded weakly.

“ Thank you. I’m so sorry. ”

He shook his head. 

“Don’t be. It’s… well, it ain’t your fault, is it?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I should’ve been able to stop it…”

“… it ain’t your fault.”

Eventually, once she was able to calm down enough, she pulled back, sniffled and quickly hugged the blanket tighter around herself, smiling nervously.

“Um… Mista… one more thing… um…” she shifted uncomfortably, hiding her face partially. 

He tilted his head, brow furrowed in slight concern.

“My… clothes don’t transform with me… aaand I. umm. I didn’t. Um. Bring my jacket , which is… where I usually keep themm…”

“...Huh?”

“…um…”

“…OH. YOU’RE—OH, HOLY SHIT. OKAY.  HOLD ON.” 

He scrambled to his feet, looking around the room for a temporary solution, and she laughed a bit. Her face slowly turned red and she hugged the blanket tighter.

At least this problem was less emotionally taxing. 

The lycanthropy-related moral dilemma could wait until she was at least wearing something. 

[captainmdhridoyhossain-blog]

[ad_1] Title: Eco-Friendly Pet Adoption: Giving Animals a Second Chance and Saving the Environment Introduction: In today's fast-paced world, where environmental concerns are gaining increasing attention, the concept of eco-friendly pet adoption has emerged as a responsible and compassionate approach. This article delves into the importance of eco-friendly pet adoption, highlighting how it offers animals a second chance at life while simultaneously contributing to the preservation of our precious environment. HTML Heading: What is Eco-Friendly Pet Adoption? Subheading: Understanding the Significance of Eco-Friendly Pet Adoption Eco-Friendly Pet Adoption: An Overview: Eco-friendly pet adoption involves adopting pets from animal shelters, rescues, or adoption agencies instead of purchasing them from breeders or pet stores. It aims to reduce the demand for commercially bred pets, thus promoting the welfare of abandoned animals and alleviating the environmental impact associated with breeding and pet trade. Why Should You Opt for Eco-Friendly Pet Adoption? By embracing eco-friendly pet adoption, individuals can make a tangible difference in several crucial aspects: Subheading: Saving Lives: Giving Animals a Second Chance 1. Shelter Animals Deserve Love: Highlighted in this section, the plight of shelter animals would be elaborated upon, emphasizing how adoption offers them a second chance at life, a loving home, and the care they desperately need. 2. Curbing Overbreeding and Pet Overpopulation: Discussed here would be the problems associated with overbreeding and the alarming issue of pet overpopulation. By adopting instead of buying, individuals contribute to reducing the number of unwanted pets, which often face euthanasia due to overcrowded shelters. 3. Promoting Responsible Pet Ownership: Exploring the responsibilities of pet ownership, including spaying/neutering, vaccination, training, and proper healthcare, could provide readers with insights to ensure their eco-friendly adoption journey is successful. Subheading: Eco-Friendly Benefits: A Win-Win Situation 1. Reducing Carbon Pawprints: This section would shed light on the environmental impact of pet breeding and commercial pet food production. By adopting instead of purchasing, individuals can lower the carbon pawprints of their furry companions and contribute to a greener future. 2. Lessening Pet Waste: Emphasizing the importance of responsible waste management, this part would discuss eco-friendly practices like biodegradable waste bags and composting to handle pet waste sustainably. 3. Encouraging Sustainable Pet Products: Delving into eco-friendly pet supplies, readers would learn about sustainable alternatives to traditional pet products, such as biodegradable litter, organic pet food, and environmentally friendly toys. HTML Heading: Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) Subheading: Clearing Common Doubts 1. FAQ 1: Why should I adopt when I can buy a pet? Answer: Adoption not only saves lives, but it also promotes responsible pet ownership and breaks the cycle of overbreeding and pet overpopulation. 2. FAQ 2: Are shelter animals unhealthy or behaviorally challenged? Answer: While some shelter animals may have health or behavioral issues, most are healthy and behaviorally stable. Proper screening and assessments by shelters ensure a good match for adopters. 3. FAQ 3: How can I make my home eco-friendly for my adopted pet? Answer: This response would provide practical suggestions such as using eco-friendly pet products, reducing plastic consumption, and opting for sustainable bedding and toys. Conclusion: Eco-friendly pet adoption merges both compassion towards animals in need and the promotion of sustainable environmental practices. By opting for adoption instead of purchasing pets, individuals can provide a second chance to animals while actively contributing to a greener future. Embrace eco-friendly pet adoption today and make a difference, one furry paw at a time.

Word count: 8000 [ad_2] #EcoFriendly #Pet #Adoption #Giving #Animals #Chance #Saving #Environment

[doberbutts]

It didn't feel appropriate to comment on the posts themselves, but I wanted to thank you for your thoughtful discussion on that school/training thread. It was a particularly interesting and thought-provoking read for me. You're an excellent writer, and I really appreciate the time and energy you put into that post and others. :)

Oh, thank you! I speak up about school things and how they pertain to dog training mostly because I grew up watching the inner workings of how schools function in the US from the unique view of having two teachers for parents, and it actually taught me a lot about how I would not want to teach a dog. I use school analogies to help break things down for folks who are really not getting it, but every time I think back to when I was a student and how I was at one point labeled difficult and combative because I knew how to demand things I needed and that were specifically discussed with the school and my parents beforehand. 

Such as when I got lunch detention for a week for “being disruptive” by drawing on the margins of my notes- I said to the teacher who gave me detention that maybe she should do more research on students with learning disorders and tell me why a student who took perfectly fine notes should be punished for having pawprints and dog faces and flowers doodled along the side. She got super mad and called my mom- who was in the middle of teaching her special ed class herself- and my mom was like “I mean yeah idk why you don’t know A: my kid has ADD and the whole school knows that and B: kids with ADD need something else to do so since you refuse to let Jaz have a fidget toy WHICH OUR THERAPIST PRESCRIBED you’re going to have to deal with doodles on notes sorry” Suddenly I didn’t have detention anymore but my teacher was always looking for a way to punish me unfairly from then on.

And I think about how I own other, non-domesticated, exotic animals that are seen as difficult and aggressive and hard to manage and I think about how applying understanding to the situation- which my teachers repeatedly DID NOT do- has helped me uh. Not get bit thus far. My teachers refused to listen to me when I said I needed XYZ and then blamed/punished me for whatever happened after and when I pointed out that maybe the note I gave them at the start of the semester should have been listened to there was always some excuse given to my mother on one of her angry phone calls. And how many of these difficult species give me very clear rules and boundaries regarding how they need to be cared for and handled and then I follow them and magically don’t get bit and in the mean time watch other people call the same species unpredictable and aggressive. 

And then I think about how we have gotten really complacent with domesticated animals and their need for autonomy and their demands for how they need to be treated and I wonder how many domesticated animals suffer through us interacting with them for that reason and how many parallels I see between that and human schooling. I see comparisons of dog trainers to teachers and I have to say that even the most gentle teaching methods are still heavily punishment based by design and as a result even “gentle” human teaching methods are frequently not what I would choose to use on a dog because I know for a fact I would have resented it as a kid. Hell, I resent it even now! I know when someone is “gentle correction”ing at me and I hate it, it sets my teeth on edge. I recognize “therapist speak” for what it is and it immediately puts my hackles up. And it’s designed to NOT do that!

[blue-scr33n]

OKAY! Here’s a new series I’m starting because I’ve griped (both online and off) about how much I dislike the girl’s designs for ML, so I’m going to do my own designs!  Starting off we have the Ladybug and the Cat! 

I’ll start with my gripes that happen to be about Ladybug’s design first.

IT ALL SUCKS!  Okay, that’s a bit of an overstatement. Her pigtails and ribbons imitating antennae are good, nice when it comes to her design, and very fitting. However, a skintight onesie with spots? That neither looks comfortable (which show can get away with since it’s magic, so always comfortable) nor looks like a good superhero design.  So in my redesign I decided that it should be both functional, and look good/comfy. I kept the onesie, but that was so villains had a lack of areas to grip (I did give the impression of boots, and was planning on adding some red militaristic-esk soles.) Then I gave her the jacket (that has gloves and is fingerless just because I wanted too, and it allows for a place to put smaller lucky charms) I wanted it to have something on it though, and so I placed the ladybug on the back (Originally having her with her name below the Ladybug too, like a sports jersey.)  I also made her eyes black because it both calls back to her being mixed race, and the fact I believe Tikki shouldn’t have blue eyes so she’d look more bug-like (Not fully black eyes, but at least iris’. The blue eyes are cute, but kinda put out the whole color scheme in my opinion) 

Then for Lady Noire’s

IT ACTUALLY SUCKS! Not only is it less visually interesting aside from her braid tail (which has another argument from me) that Ladybug’s, it’s also skintight and doesn’t have a single embellishment aside from the belt she has (The ears are obligatory, like the tail. They don’t count.) Chat at least has his boots/gloves that give him something. Lady Noire (which I don’t like her name, thus, Kitty Noire, which I accidentally didn’t spell Noire in the art.) I had a whole new design idea, one that still used her hair for one of the elements (I found that quite clever, however, not fitting of Marinette per se)  So in my redesign I decided that to match Chat, it’d be playful and yet look good/functional. It’s still pretty skintight, however, I decided to section off the top like a chesogasm and give her a little cat pawprint to end it (I thought it looked really cute) I also gave her more color than Chat, which wasn’t going to be the case originally. Her belt was going to be black, just like the suit, but then I got the idea of it being a green belt (Using my own karate belts for inspiration and reference) so it evolved from there! It gave her twintails, which I find to be really fitting since she seems like the person to like doubles of things (Pigtails, the ears I gave her reflecting that, and the earrings which could arguably only be one and still work as in canon)  And yes! She does have the toe beans on her feet, it was too cute to not pass up (It’s just not shown here.)  Finally, I didn’t change her eyes to green. I left them black, why? The fact she has such unnaturally blue eyes when her parents have such dulled eyes? It doesn’t feel right, plus black eyes with green scelra coming at you with a baton? Yeah, that’d be a bit intimidating (Sadly, you wouldn’t be able to see her scelra, but that’s regardless of the fact it’s still pretty creepy since I’d assume Chat’s eyes have the reflective properties an actual cat’s does in the dark.) 

BUT HEY! These are just my opinions! You find something wrong with my redesigns, go ahead to rip me a new one because I’m not going to block you over something that small unlike ol’ Hawkdaddy!

Tune in next week were I design Marinette a fox and turtle outfit, then bee, and then the final of the main five will be the peacock and butterfly! The only one of the zodiacs I’ll do is the Mouse (and maybe dragon/dragonbug too, but I haven’t decided on that yet)  Then I’ll do Alya (With the main two and five), then Chloe, and finally Kagami (And are just like Alya)

(December 2019)

[cocktail-party-in-an-abattoir]

In Memoriam Herschel (2005-2021)

           It was the late summer/early autumn of 2005. I was 16 years old. I went to a friend’s house for a get-together with other friends. She lived in a more rural area, so stray cats were not uncommon. One of these strays had recently birthed a litter of kittens. They were corralled into a blocked-off area in my friend’s den. Naturally, we all gravitated towards the kittens. We spent a good while petting them, playing with them, holding them, and watching them with their mother. A particular kitten was a gray and white tabby. This kitten had made its way towards me and tried to crawl up one of my jean legs. I was wearing bootcut jeans, so it actually managed it. I was immediately drawn to this kitten, the idea of asking my parents if we could keep it already forming.

While my friends and I were playing with them, we decided to give them all smartass, noncommittal names. None of us could sex kittens, so that was reflected in the names we chose. I named the gray and white tabby (of which there were two, but I zeroed in on the jean leg kitten) “Herschel.” Why? Well, when I was eight or nine, I used to play House with friends. I had heard the name “Herschel” on some sitcom, and I liked the sound of it. So, I often named my fake son “Herschel.” This became an inside joke between my best friend and me.

            Back at home, I asked my mom if we could adopt the kitten. She had veto power. She was kind of hesitant at first but eventually relented. A few weeks later my friend and her mom brought the kitten over to my house. By that point I was already seriously referring to it as “Herschel.” We all just kind of assumed it was male. The first thing Herschel did after getting out of the carrying case was hide behind one of our bookcases and stayed there.

            We took Herschel to the vet. Upon examination the vet tech proclaimed he was, in fact, she. Her exact words were “You have a little girl!” For better or for worse, I was committed to “Herschel” (much to my mom’s chagrin), so from then on, I had a girl cat with a boy name. This led to years of various people (mostly veterinary staff) getting her sex wrong. I don’t know that I ever bothered correcting them because, well, they were going to find out the truth soon enough.

            Between 2005 and 2010, Herschel grew from a kitten with what my mom described as “Yoda ears” into a gorgeous young lady. She had the most beautiful green eyes. People always had nice things to say about her looks. She had an adorable bow-legged gait from the beginning. She grew into an affectionate little cuddle-bug once she adjusted to us. She was wary of strangers, which was probably for the best. She did not like to go outside as much as our older cat, Simba (RIP)—especially after being treed once—but she was a very skilled huntress. She even managed to get two hummingbirds. Obviously, I’m not a fan of such “presents,” but I couldn’t help but be impressed by her prowess.

            In 2007, we adopted 2 labs named Olive and Penny (RIP x2). 2010, we adopted two fluffy black kittens from our vet’s office. We named them Buttercup and Licorice (RIP x2). Herschel respected Simba because of his seniority, but she absolutely despised the other pets. She would growl and hiss at them on sight. Because of this, the dogs had to stay downstairs while the cats had free rein upstairs. By 2012, Buttercup had gone missing, and we had adopted two more animals: a cat named Kid Twist (“Twist” for short) and a blue heeler named Bleu. Herschel did not care for them either. That same year my parents moved one state over, and I moved to a nearby city to stay with a family friend. The Menagerie went with my parents.

            One day in 2013 or 2014 my mom commented about how Herschel hid under a guest room bed much of the time. She would only come out to do her business or eat. Since the dogs had free rein over the entire house, this meant there was no real “safe space” for Herschel. Thus, her reclusiveness. Mom was worried about her well-being. I offered to take Herschel under my wing. Mom agreed. Now, my housemate already had a few cats, so it wasn’t perfect, but it was an improvement over a house with dogs. Herschel had been under my care since.

            In 2015 Herschel moved with me into the apartment I currently live in. Despite my apartment’s smallness, she was finally the one cat in a one-cat home. I had stopped letting her out because a) my apartment complex is positively labyrinthine b) the complex is next to a busy highway, and c) I wanted her to live longer and not harm any wildlife (although her hunting days were behind her). She didn’t seem to mind. For the next few years, she was my kitty comrade. Aside from some dental issues and a heart murmur, she always had a clean bill of health. I honestly thought she was going to live as long as Simba had (18, almost 19) because he was also a spry geriatric cat.

            In late 2020, Herschel was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism. She had been growing thinner and vomiting before I found out. I had to start giving her medication twice per day, but there was otherwise no change. She was still the empress I knew and loved, if a little slower. I thought that was going to be it. Then, earlier this year, the vet ran some more tests. While I had managed to lower her thyroid levels, the vet found another problem: chronic kidney disease. My blood ran cold upon hearing this because one of our pet labs, Olive, had died from kidney failure a few years prior. The vet told me while there was no cure, CKD could be managed with diet changes and medication. He was right, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case with Herschel. She quickly went from stage 3 to stage 4 (4 being the end stage). I still kick myself about this because I feel like I could’ve found out sooner. Anyway, the vet suggested I should have Herschel hospitalized for a couple of days with IV fluids. The idea was to basically rehydrate her and then start a regimen of a new diet, supplements, and medication.

            So, I waited outside for three hours until a hospital staff member came to collect Herschel. It would’ve been longer, but my very kind vet called ahead. A couple of days later my mom and I returned to the hospital to wait for Herschel. It was March 25th, my birthday. One of the vets called me and stated despite the diuresis, Herschel’s stats remained the same. She stated I had probably 2 weeks left with her. I knew she was right, but I was still determined to try. I gave her daily cocktails of medication. I learned how to give her subcutaneous injections to hydrate her. I got the prescription wet food. At first, she had more okay days than bad, but it eventually became clear she was circling the drain. Treatment transformed into hospice care. I was going to do everything possible to keep her comfortable. By the end she was incontinent and no longer eating or drinking. Then she stopped being able to walk. I knew I had to make the final appointment. After a long crying session, I did.

            My mom came to help yesterday. Herschel was mostly immobile and out of it. Not even her favorite prosciutto roused her. I swaddled her in a changing pad and a blanket and slept with her next to me for one more night. She was still alive this morning if barely. Before we were set to go to her final appointment, I played her Sugarloaf’s “Green-Eyed Lady” (which will always remind me of her) and Audrey Hepburn’s version of “Moon River.” As my mom and I went to prepare her for the appointment, we realized how still she was. She did not appear to be breathing, and she did not react to anything we did. I took a flashlight to her pupils and… she was gone. She had died peacefully on my couch, which was one of her favorite spots to lounge. Honestly, I was relieved because the thought of taking her to a strange place to be euthanized frankly distressed me. I cuddled her ragdoll body from then until we were sitting in the vet office’s parking lot. Mom got a chance to hold her, too. A vet tech came out, used her stethoscope, and confirmed what we already knew. After a few more minutes with her we said our last goodbyes. I filled out paperwork confirming I wanted her ashes returned to me with a clay pawprint.

            I want Herschel’s ashes buried on my parents’ property with the others. Maybe a little farther away since she did not like most of them. I’m also looking into urn jewelry so I can carry her with me. This cat saw me at some of my lowest points, including when I was furloughed from my job last year. This cat was sweet and affectionate but also a pesky little shit. This cat was the first living being I was fully responsible for. She somehow managed to be regal while shoving her butthole into your face. If she liked you, she came and sat with you. If she didn’t, she hid behind the washing machine. I’m convinced she was part slug because even at her largest she was able to fit into confined spaces. I will miss her trilling meows. She was beautiful to the end, and I will always love her and miss her. I don’t know if there is an afterlife or not, but if there is, I hope she has endless king crab and prosciutto to snack on.

[purplesurveys]

1020

survey by lets-make-surveys

1 - What’s your average grocery bill for the week? How many people/animals does that have to feed? Could you cut it down if you had to? Around P10,000 every 1-2 weeks, which feeds five adults and two animals. I think it can definitely be cut down, considering a chunk of that bill comes from snacks or other fancy ingredients/condiments that we could technically do without.

2 - When was the last time you were woken up in the middle of the night? Two days ago, from the typhoon’s winds. It’s a good thing I woke up because my windows had been open through the night and they could’ve smashed against the pane and into a million pieces if the wind proceeded to push them.

3 - Have you done anything out of the ordinary so far today? I charged my phone through my dad’s car twice so I can stay aligned with what was going on at work today. I ended up having to file for an emergency leave (...four days into my role, how embarrassing) because the electricity didn’t come back until 4 PM today and because I was also unable to leave home to work in a coffee shop or mall with my village still submerged in flood for all of today – which meant I wouldn’t have been able to keep up with my tasks and meetings. It was so irritating to miss out on things and I felt really guilty for having to be absent less than a week into my new job. UGH. Better days, plz.

4 - How long is it until your birthday? Five months and a week exactly.

5 - Do you have a lot of debt? How long do you think it’ll take you to pay it all off? No debt.

6 - When was the last time you had to take time off work or school to attend an appointment? Last Thursday and Friday. I got my job offer last Wednesday and was expected to submit a mountain of requirements and government IDs before reporting for my first day this Monday, so I had no choice but to devote the whole of Thurs and Fri to completing those reqs.

7 - Do you get paid if you’re off sick from work? Do you think the number of sick days would change if you did or didn’t get paid? No. Not yet, at least.

8 - What colour was the last animal you saw? White with black eyes, nose, and pawprints.

9 - When’s your next payday? Do you have anything you need to buy when you get paid? Around a week and a half from now. I have to start buying Christmas presents, for sure.

10 - What kind of face mask do you prefer to use - re-usable or disposable? I don’t really have a preference but because my mom buys boxes of the disposable kind, it’s what I use.

11 - If someone told you five years ago, that you’d be living through a global pandemic, do you think you’d believe them? Absolutely the fuck not lmao. We were all so excited about 2020 and it being a new decade, and people even made a shit ton of memes about “20/20 vision” for years - there was no way anyone could’ve predicted a global pandemic, at least one of this scale.

12 - Is your state or country under any form of lockdown or “stay at home” order at the moment? Are you following the “rules” of that? People under the age of 21 are still prohibited from going out, as far as I know. But generally, the rules are a lot more loose now compared to the last few months. Everyone’s still required to wear face masks and face shields and practice social distancing while all public places have temperature checks, floor mats, and alcohol/hand sanitizers, of course; but it’s no longer out of the ordinary to hear of people going to the mall again or even dining out at restaurants. I follow the rules, because it’s really not too hard to keep myself and thus other people safe.

13 - What flavour were the last potato chips you ate? Sour cream and onion, but I didn’t like them. My parents got me salted egg flavored chips today though and I’m excited to open them :)

14 - If you have pets, do you let them sleep in or on your bed with you? Kimi never liked the bed, so he’s always slept under mine instead of beside me. Cooper’s a big ball of energy incapable of settling on a bed, and he needs to be in his crate to let him know it’s bedtime.

15 - Would you rather watch a sitcom, a reality show, or a documentary? I love all of these and I’m always open to watching any of them as long as I’m in the right mood for them. I don’t have a favorite and some days I’ll just be in a documentary mood, some days a reality TV mood, and other days a sitcom kind of mood.

16 - Do you have a favourite celebrity chef? Gordon Ramsay 100%. He’s entertaining across the board; his Hot Ones interview is my favorite, haha.

17 - When was the last time you did a load of laundry? Not in charge of that chore.

18 - Do you have anything interesting planned for tomorrow? What day is it tomorrow, anyway? Nah. I think I’ll have to do work tomorrow considering I had to go on leave today, which is okay. It’s nice to be busy on a weekend for once. Tomorrow is Saturday.

19 - Have you ever been in therapy or counselling? Did you find it useful? No but I’ve been considering it for a while, especially after the events of September lol. I do believe it will be useful and plenty helpful, yes, that’s why I’m finally warming up to the idea.

20 - What was the last film you watched? Is it one of your favourites? I didn’t finish it but I watched the first 20 minutes of a local movie called That Thing Called Tadhana. I wouldn’t say it’s one of my favorites, but it’s definitely a significant movie for me.

21 - Would you say you're an organised person? In what ways are you organised or disorganised? Eh, I’m right in the middle. I’m organized at work but I’m not super strict with myself when it comes to my personal space. Like if I’m able to keep my room organized it’s great, but if I’m unable to maintain it it’s not the end of the world. At work I like keeping my things color-coordinated and filed neatly in different folders or spreadsheets; at home I always seem to know where everything is, no matter how messy my space has gotten.

22 - Would you rather read a fantasy novel or an auto-biography? Autobiography, for sure.

23 - When was the last time someone paid for something for you? My parents bought groceries today.

24 - Do you have an open fire? If not, would you like one? I don’t know what this is. Is this a fireplace? Because if it is, we have no use for that here.

25 - What do you do with your old technology once you upgrade or get something new? Keep it around for emergencies, or hand it down to a sibling.

26 - If you were given the choice, would you solve a problem by speaking to someone on the phone, in person or via e-mail? Depends on who they are, tbh. The closer I am to someone, the more likely I am to take a more personal approach in handling an issue with them.

27 - Do you have an alarm set for tomorrow morning? What time do you need to get up? Nope, because it’s finally Saturday.

28 - What are you wearing at the moment? I’m wearing an old shirt from high school and a pair of shorts.

29 - Is there anyone else in the room with you? What are they doing right now? Just Kimi. Sleeping.

30 - Do people in real life know that you take surveys? If they don’t, is there a particular reason that you’ve never told them? Nah, there was never a reason to tell people...it just never comes up, really. Even if it ever does, it’d take too much explanation and I never feel like going through that, especially if they won’t be able to see what exactly I post anyway.

[akilah12902]

Creature Feature: Basilisk

The one time where I think a noble should be less generous.

Hello everybody! Today we’re covering the basilisk and its near-extinct cousin, the silver basilisk!

Check the tags and hit read more to continue on!

Simple people call the basilisk the king of the Zerrikanian deserts and often mistake it for a cockatrice. They claim that the beast is filled with such hatred towards all living things that even its breath is venomous and its glance turns the unwary to stone. The fact that witchers often encounter basilisks in dungeons and cellars contradicts the legend and suggests these creatures can reproduce under any conditions like many of their nasty monster brethren. In fairy tales, the only certain way to kill a basilisk is by holding a mirror in front of its eyes to divert its deadly gaze. Witchers reply that it is far better to smash the mirror on the creature's head.

Witcher 1 Bestiary Entry

In memory of the noble knight Roderick, slain during a valiant struggle against a basilisk. Let's hope the beast choked on his bones. – Gravestone inscription, Vizima cemetery. Contrary to popular belief, basilisks cannot turn anything to stone with their gaze. That is small comfort, however, given that their acid, venom, claws and teeth provide them many other ways to kill. Basilisks love dark, damp places such as cellars, caves and city sewers. They hunt by day, waiting patiently in hiding for their prey to come, then jump out in a flash to unleash a deadly attack. When preparing to fight such a creature one should drink Golden Oriole, which will provide resistance to its venom, and also prepare Dancing Star or shrapnel bombs, which work particularly well against basilisks. Basilisk leather is a highly-valued material used to make fashionable shoes and women's handbags. For this reason many men, their courage girded by goldlust, take to hunting them. Most of these hunts end in disaster, but some do manage to bag their prey, which has led to a drastic decline in this creature's numbers in recent years. Some mages and druids are of the opinion that basilisks should be included in programs meant to safeguard dying species. Everyone else thinks those mages and druids have gone completely mad.

You want a fine pair of boots, you say? Bring me the hide of a silver basilisk, and I'll make you boots the whole world will envy. - Anatole Vizholy, shoemaker from Beauclair Geralt always liked looking at things that don't exist. Be it a vampire with a human heart o[r] the last basilisk of a species that no scholar has classified, discovering something thought not to be there to be discovered caused him great pleasure. That is why he took an interest in a contract which, at first glance, seemed banal, but proved to be very intriguing. It concerned the last basilisk of the nearly-extinct species Regulus Platinum. If Geralt kills the silver basilisk: Geralt decided to kill the basilisk, the witcher trade not being one that makes room for sentiment. He thus eliminated the last of a species which now could definitively classed as extinct. If Geralt does not kill the silver basilisk: In the end, Geralt decided not to kill the basilisk, for who in his right mind would raise his sword against a living legend?

Witcher 3 Bestiary Entries

Ah, the basilisk. Despite what the entries say regular basilisks are also vulnerable to fire.

I don’t have much to say about the standard basilisk; unfortunately there’s not really a big story hunt dedicated to one.

The silver basilisk, on the other hand...

The silver basilisk is a little smaller than the regular ones, has a sliiiightly different pawprint, has thinner scales, making it more vulnerable to fire, and has much more potent venom that a regular basilisk. Silver basilisks are, according to di Salvaress, often found near beech forests, where the roe deer staple to their diet are also found. Beech forests have shrunken quite a bit, which adversely affected the populations and led to more basilisks attacking humans. The female silver basilisk also smashed her eggs when her mate died, suggesting that support is needed from a mate to properly raise young, and without it a mother will look after her own health and try again only with a new partner.

Silver basilisks are also rather curious, or at least the one in the games is, and drawn to strong scents.

There is perhaps one left, a female named Iocaste, living on the lands of a Count in Beauclair, and being protected by said count. Why do I not kill her?

Look: di Salvaress managed to convince me that he was actually completely conscious of the potential dangers that Iocaste the silver basilisk presented AND that he was taking every precaution and making every warning that he could, AND that he in fact may have been too generous in compensation...

Namely;

1. di Salvaress tells the story behind his family’s coat of arms, that a silver basilisk rescued a child of the family and raised him like her own... and when Geralt calls bullshit (well, “malarkey”),  di Salvaress says “To be sure. But beautiful malarkey it is.” He knows that this is a very dangerous creature and is protecting her with eyes wide open to that.

2. He posts notices, including drawings, EVERYWHERE around the perimeter of Iocaste’s territory and thus the danger zone. I’m fairly sure he mentions having had criers hired to warn people. He also rides out to meet people when he sees them near her territory. The entirety of Beauclair should know about the silver basilisk and where her territory is, and if they don’t it’s a matter of willful ignorance.

3. The Count di Salvaress provides generous compensation from his own funds to anyone who has goods destroyed, personal injuries, or families of people killed by Iocaste if someone does somehow cut through her territory. He paid a man’s widow eight hundred crowns, which is a HUGE amount of money by standards. I actually think he should stop compensating for goods, though—the merchant’s guild has continued to use the route through her territory because it’s slightly shorter and if they loose cargo or men, they’ll get paid for it anyway. (This is outlined in an actual message on the bodies of some unfortunate traders—they had requested a different route and were denied, as outlined exactly above.)

I’m on the Count’s side, here. Not to mention sparing Iocaste and then denying the offer of extra payment from the Count is one of the ways you can prove the virtue of Compassion for There Can Only Be One, which gets you a very neat silver sword.

[ask-magala]

Free Falling (short story)

Short story with @dragonkingteo @nero-the-fallen @smolderingempress @elderchameleos @ask-the-thunder-strike-mizutsune @black-dragon-fortress and @kushasfrozengale

(thanks for letting me “steal” your characters)

Edit - changed all of Black’s pronouns to “they”

Google docs link if you want a nicer format.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1E969RZrjO6yOeLnejzsf4_GMdvmecM9yvS4w6LiEQvE/edit?usp=sharing

You could call him a bad boy. He sauntered up to the counter ofThe Empress. A cocky move considering that it was at the border between two gang territories. To the north was Kusha’s gang, to the south was Teo’s. But this wasn’t any ordinary bad boy. He went straight to the bar to the flaming beauty at the counter.

“Hey Luna.” he said, lowering his sunglasses and wiggling his eyebrows at her.

She sharply turned around.

“Look what the cat dragged in. What’ll it be this time? A shot of Fireball? Or a hasty escape in the back?”

Her head cocked to the side, one severe eyebrow slightly raised.

“Aw come on now, Luna. What, I can’t go see my muse every once in a while?” he teased.

He leaned over the counter, his tail curled up his back. She scoffed and playfully shoved him off.

*THUMP* The door swung open. A scruffy looking dude came up to the counter and hastily ordered something that was aptly named “The Danger Zone”. Teo raised an eyebrow. It was Nero. This was their way of passing secret messages. Pretending to lean over the counter to Luna again, he gave Nero a chance to whisper.

    “Its Kusha.”

Luna heard the conversation.

    “Need to run and hide tail?” she teased.

Teo stood up and adjusted his vest. Nero downed his drink and slid on a bandana to cover his face..

    “Not this time. This is neutral turf. And I got my guys.”

He turned and started to head out the building. Nero and a crimson figure in the back got up and followed him.

    “Nice to see ya, Gharial.” Teo said to the Fatalis.

    “Can’t miss a fight with my old friend, now can I?” said Gharial, as he lit a new cigarette.

Outside was the tempest dragon herself: Kusha. She had her arms crossed and a cocky smile on her face. Next to her was a Valstrax: Riley Jetstream.

    “Well well. If it isn’t flame brain.” Kusha smirked.

Teo flexed his hands. Nero slid a hand towards his pockets. Riley started to shrug her shoulders.  

    “What are you doin’ here fork nose? Getting bored up north?” Teo scoffed.

    “This is neutral territory. So if you will excuse me. Riley and I have thirsts to quench.” She flipped her hair and started to walk forward. Her shoulder shoved against Teo as she went in. Riley followed, sticking her tongue out at Teo and the others.

    “Watch ‘em.” Teo said to Nero

Nero nodded and went back into the bar. Teo decided to hang out next to the entrance with Gharial.

    “Just lettin’ her go?” Gharial asked.

    “Its neutral ground. Gramps made us promise that.” Teo explained.

This was the first time they met since the meeting Grandpa Chammy arranged. He had made the two promise to keep this area neutral. And surprisingly, it worked. They had not had any fights recently. She stayed North, he stayed South.

Inside the bar, Kusha went up to the counter and sat down. Riley slid in next to her, ordering a shot of Fireball whisky.

    “Gotta get somethin’ to warm up my passion for you.” Riley smiled.

Kusha playfully shoved her.

    “You really are a dork, Riley.” Kusha laughed.

As far as Nero could tell, the two were being pretty pedestrian.

About an hour later, a felyne came up to Teo. It was Mocha, acting as casual as can be. She handed Teo a note, and then silently disappeared into the shadows. It was brief: “Black, Central” and it was signed with a pawprint. Teo glanced at Gharial, who was already snuffing out his cigarette.

    “Black… This ain’t good. We need backup.”

Teo glanced into the bar where Kusha was.

    “Teo wait. We should…” Gharial began, but there was no stopping him.

They were dangerously low on members. Teo went inside and slid the note to Kusha. At first, she was going to sweep it off the table, like a cat would, but something in his expression made her change her mind. She read the note… and both eyebrows went up.

    “That is your territory.” she said seriously.

Teo nodded. Central was where Teo’s territory ended and Kusha’s territory began. It wasn’t quite Kusha’s holding yet, but it was dangerously close. Judging by the tense movements of her tail, Teo could see that she was anxious too.

    “Truce?” he asked, offering his hand.

Kusha stared at it suspiciously. Riley next to her kept whispering “what if it's a trap?” behind her.

    “How serious is this?” Kusha asked suddenly.

She had an idea what was going on in that area of Teo’s hood. Teo leaned down to her.

    “Very.”

Kusha surprised them all. She took Teo’s hand and shook it.

A few hours later, they were gathered at Central in front of one of Teo’s buildings. Black’s men, The Fatalis Mafia,  were searching every building in the area, terrorizing the civilians. The whole time since Mocha delivered the news, Gharial was unusually grim. Teo had brought all of his followers, and Kusha had brought herself and a few others, Riley included. They were armed with whatever they had.

    “When Black comes here, we watch their movements. They are quick to anger and quicker to destroy.” Teo warned.

    “Surprised the cops haven’t come yet.” Riley muttered to Kusha.

They surrounded the area. Nero and Riley were at the roof, keeping watch and taking the role of backup. Kusha and Teo were front with several others.

    “Why this building flame breath?” Kusha asked.

    “It's important.” he said, shortly.

They came like the dead of night. A company of fifteen armed to the teeth. But Black wasn’t there. Baring his fangs, Teo stepped up.

    “What the hell do you want?” he asked.

    “You know who we want, Teostra. Where’s the girl?” one of them asked.

    “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Kusha snorted.

At this point, she understood what Teo was trying to do. The Mafia took out their weapons, and the rag tag gang alliance followed suit. They weren’t allowed to use guns in the streets, else risk the wrath of the local police. The fight was expected to be long and dirty = knives only.

    “You’re not getting in.” Teo snarled as he ran forward, Kusha at his side.

Thus the blood bath began. Slashing, fighting tooth and nail, that was how a gangster fought. People in nearby homes and businesses were barricading their doors and watching with fearful eyes. Blood splattered on the ground. The Mafia quickly forced the other two back into the building. Even with back up, Teo and Kusha were outnumbered.

    “Teo. We gotta flee.” came Gharial’s voice.

He was leaning against the wall, his right eye sealed shut and bleeding. Kusha, who had a few cuts on her arm, peeked out to see the action. Her eyes widened when she saw Nero and Riley. They had jumped into the fight to make sure their leaders could escape.

    “Riley!” Kusha shouted, getting up and running back in.

Teo tried to stop her, but could not stop her in time. She was back in the fight, slashing and kicking like her life depended on it. Cursing his luck, Teo jumped back in. If Kusha was going to have a last stand, so would he.

    “POLICE! POLICE!” someone shouted.

They turned and saw a group of police cars zooming in. Cops came out, armed with guns. A Mizutsune came out with a loudspeaker and handed the mic to a Rathian. For those who were familiar with run ins with the law, they knew the Mizu to be Lucy and the Rathian to be Alex, both hardened members of the force.

    “Put your weapons down! You are surrounded!” Alex shouted.

Helicopters hovered overhead, aiming guns at all of them. The Mafia started to put their weapons down… when one of them suddenly grabbed Teo and another grabbed Kusha, putting knives to their necks.     “Shoot us, they die.” the Mafia said.

The cops hesitated. Yes they were gangsters, but the police didn’t like having a high body count. Toe and Kusha snarled, trying to break free, but it was hard with the knives there.

    “Kusha!” Riley cried, but there was little she could do with the cops and the Fatalis Mafia there.

What happened next was a bit of a mystery. A small ball had landed in the middle of the fight. Intense white mist came out, covering everyone’s vision. The cops went in and tried to grab the escaping gangsters. Lucy came in and managed to pistol whip one of the Mafia members, shoving him to the side in the process.

    “Hands up! Hands up!” Alex shouted from the speaker.

When the smoke cleared, the police looked around, guns at the ready. They had taken down three of Black’s followers. Everyone else disappeared.

A few hours later… the sun was beginning to rise. Teo and Kusha’s gangs were sitting in a safe house, licking their wounds. Teo had decided to let Kusha in for going out of her way to help him. Kusha was kneeling next to Riley, wiping at a large gash she had on her forehead.

    “You reckless dork… Almost made me panic back there.” Kusha scolded.

    “You ain’t gonna get rid of this dork so easily.” Riley teased.

Teo went over to them and gave a small cough. He was pretty cut up too. Nothing a few bandages wouldn’t patch up. Kusha stood up to meet him.

    “What?” she asked.

    “Hey uh… I just wanted to say… thanks.” he said.

Kusha shrugged.

    “You didn’t have to stick your neck out for me. Now this isn’t a truce but…”

She stopped him with a finger.

    “I know you would’ve done the same flame breath.”

She knelt down and helped Riley to her feet.

    “See you around furball. And… take care of the girl.”

With that, Kusha and her gang left. Teo watched as they disappeared into the alleyways. Gharial came up behind him, smoking a new cigarette. His face was patched up.

    “Siding with the enemy? You’re gettin’ soft Teo.” Gharial chuckled.

    “Like you can say anything. We did all of this for Ely.” Teo reminded.

Gharial sighed and nodded.

    “Yeah. And I’m very thankful for that. Because of the standoff, Ely moved to a safer location.”

    “Hey, what are friends for? We made this gang so we can stick together.” said Teo,

putting his hand around Gharial’s shoulder.

Teo gazed out and watched as the sun rose. Though the sun was his domain, the darkness was not. As the sun went up, the black shadows grew longer and farther.

[cyberneticlagomorph]

Your eyes are burning, nails rimmed with dirt and blood and gold. Your lab is in ruins, pots and glassware broken on the floor, shining among the black soil and purple lights. You taste the sickly butterscotch sweetness of pain and vaguely register the shards of glass stuck in your paw pads. You're trembling as you stand and limp to your bedroom, leaving a luminescent trail of bloody pawprints behind you. With each heartbeat, your anger fades and the pain in your paws grows stronger. By the time you get to the bathroom you're crying again, a filthy, bloody mess of a rabbit that slides to the floor with his back against the wall. For awhile you just sit there, bleeding, softly sobbing into your dirty hands.

After a moment you open your chestspace and start rummaging for a tissue or some wetwipes. Anything to clean yourself up with. Your fingers brush cold glass, and close around the object without a second thought. You draw from your chest a bottle. The bottle is empty. You stare at it in your hands for a bit, rolling it between your fingers. Its small, a simple eye dropper bottle that once held the emetic you've been taking for some weeks now. Prescribed to you by none other that Vlad Dracula Tepes, the Hunter King himself. He hates that title, thinks it glorifies and infantillizes his actions the same way people making flower crown edits of serial killers does them.

He's never been proud of what he's done or why he did it. He says he did it for love, to avenge his Lisa. A witch, like you. She died at the hands of her own kind and he was helpless to stop them, until the Wyrm-Tyrant told him how. Satan, they called it, a great goat-headed beast that sowed rot and suffering everywhere it went. It taught him how to hunt those that took his love from him, it made him the First Hunter. And so he taught others how to hunt witches, to use their own magic against them. He showed them how to mangle cattle and blight fields, poison wells and steal children, only to blame it all on the local witches.

He taught them how to feed. How to drain the essence from their pray, how to become immortal. The dragon failed to tell him what curses the taste for witch-flesh can carry. He watched his disciples become beasts, ravenous and feral as their souls were corrupted and thus corrupted their flesh. He too became a monster in time, even his vast stores of knowledge stolen from those he consumed were of no help to him. His act of vengeance became a genocide that divided the worlds of Magic and Mundane forever, a bloody stain on history that no one would ever forget.

Still, he helps you. Makes you medicine and tolerates your return visits over the course of your treatment. Secretly, you want him to eat you, to let you into his mansion one evening and never let you out again. Him preparing you to be a future meal made more sense than him doing this out of the kindness of his old and broken heart. But still you like him, you sit with him in his lonely mansion, drink his tea, fell asleep in his big arm chair as if you were old friends. Not a hunter and his prey. He worries about you, you can see it in his eyes whenever you visit, whenever he examines you and inquires about the progress of your treatment. He doesn't look like a monster when he worries, he looks like someone's father trying to shoo an over affectionate cat out of his garden, lest it get caught in the rosebushes again.

You look at yourself in the bathroom mirror and drop the weak glamour you've placed on yourself. You look terrible, face streaked with dirt, blood and snot. Hair a tangled mess, your clothes are an even bigger disaster, but not so much as your poor paws. The crystal is back with a vengeance, resurrected through your own gross overuse of magic, you'll be berated for that later, but first things first. You wince as you extract the glass and drag yourself into the bathtub, after a moment's fumbling you strip and turn on the shower. It hurts to move but the warm water soothes away the worst of the pain, you lie there on the bottom of the tub, even after you're clean and the water's gone cold. Getting out of the tub sucks ass so you just settle for perching on the rim until you can fish a nanoject from your chest. You pull the cap off with your teeth and stab it into your thigh like an epipen, it takes a minute for the nanos to heal the cuts in your feet but its not like you can do much else but wait until they're done.

You shuffle back into your room on tender paws and dress in your warmest clothing, leaving the Warren soon after to pay Mr. Tepes a visit. He won't be happy to see you, you're sure of it. The trip there is slow an cold without your magic, but you're grateful for the solitude. The mansion looks abandoned and belly deep in snow but you've been here enough times to know that its all just a heavy glamour to ward off prying eyes. There's a path cleared for you, you can't see it, but you know its there and are happy to not sink in the drifts of half-melted mess on the lawns. You're halfway to the door when you smell him, he has you pinned to the ground before you can even gather your magic.

A white wolf with eyes as golden and glowing as the sun has its paws on your chest, teeth bared and maw oozing spittle inches from your face.

"Who are you?" it-- he snarls, snapping his jaws a hairs breadth from your nose. You don't answer, your fingers are buried in the damp earth, forcing what seeds lay dormant there to sprout into writhing green beasts with thorns for teeth. They knock the wolf aside before he his time to recover. You roll to your feet and bolt for the door, a sword whizzes past your head and embeds itself up to the hilt in the door, slicked with viscous green fluid. You hesitate to look back and find a slim, pale stranger in fine clothes standing triumphant on the bleeding wreckage of your creatures with nothing more than an irritated frown on his handsome face. His mouth is full of knives when he speaks, his lupine ears flicking in annoyance, tail lashing.

"You'd do well to answer my question, Witch, while I still have some patience left to spare on you."

[butterflypeachgrove]

This inspired me to write a short story, hope you like it!

Albedo allowed himself a small smile when he saw a brief flash of white and blue-ish silver.

"Hello Névé."

He turned away from his canvas and brushed a hand against the eager little snow fox's head who yipped happily at his touch. The little fox nuzzled into his gloved hand, pressing its little black paws against his thigh as its tail wagged happily.

"Why have you come today, hm?" He let out a soft chuckle, "Are you hungry? Sorry, but I'm afraid I don't have any berries on me at the moment." 

The fox being a fox didn't understand his human words and just cocked its head at him, looking up at him with its little brown eyes before clawing it's back legs up the rock Albedo was sitting on and crawled into his lap. The curious little thing simple sat there on his legs staring at the painting Albedo was working on, eyes fixed on the brushstrokes, shapes, and soft colors.

Albedo blinked, before his soft smile returned. 

"Ah, did you come to watch me paint again?" He mused. 

The fox's tail wagged, but again, it did not understand Albedo's words.

 Albedo never needed to speak for Névé to understand.

So, a gentle silence fell between the homunculus and fox, which was only tainted by the soft sounds of brush against canvas and a light frigid breeze that bothered neither of them. 

The smell of fresh paint and fresh snow hung in the air.

It was.. quite nice.

The hour passed by without so much as a blink and as the alchemist put the finally touches on his piece, he spared a glance to his furry companion occupying his lap. He had moved to sit cross-legged perhaps just ten minutes ago and the fox had acclimated and adapted accordingly. It was lying down with its head resting on his knee, fully trusting and relaxed like a lounging cat, still watching him paint with wide and interested eyes. It had not grown bored in the slightest it would seem. 

How curious. 

He observed how the fox's gaze followed his paintbrush until he sat it down on the easel. It then turned to look up at him with its wood colored eyes. How strange this little fox is. Névé had always been a peculiar case among the other foxes of Dragonspine. While most of the foxes were reasonable wary of people, Névé always seemed to seek him out. At first he thought he might have accidentally gotten the little fox's attention by leaving out food, but even though he had thoroughly double and triple check his stores, he found no food to be missing. Then, he came up with the theory that perhaps this little fox had been reared by humans and then left up on the mountain after it came of age given how they always begged to be pet and knew basic hand commands, but that hypothesis had been quickly dashed with the way it always disappeared from his camp whenever Klee or the his apprentices or the Traveler came and immediately came back when they had left. 

Névé was only interested in him, and him alone. 

Strange indeed.

 It became such a common sight for him to see fox hairs on his cloths or pawprints in the snow in and around his camp, that eventually he wound up having to given the little creature a name of its own. 

Névé, after the mountainous snow of Dragonspine. 

In a way, it was.. curiously endearing to have such a clever animal as a companion whenever he was on the mountain.

It didn't make too much noise, only yipping when it wished to be fed or wanted attention (which could easily be remedy by simply placing it in his lap), and thus didn't didn't disturb his research, but it also seemed to sense when he needed rest or to eat which it would signal by tugging at his coat and then digging at the fire pit.

It never asked about his research or tried to pry about his life or past. It never felt the need to fill the silence with meaningless pleasantries or conversation.

Yet it never held back in its curiosity about the unknown, always sniffing at vials or figuring out how to play with his unused tools or, like now, patiently watching him work on a piece. Névé was the perfect kind of companion for someone like himself. 

Albedo felt another smile creep up his cheeks as he pets Névé's silky fur, they let him with a wag of their tail. 

Strange. He seems to be doing that a lot more as of late.

------------------------------

Master left his den again. Névé was currently curled up on the little mattress in Albedo's camp, ears drooping in disappointment.  He went back to The Wind's City, I think. I wonder when he'll be back?

Will he do that thing with the fur-stick and good-smelling waters again when he comes back? I love it when he does that! Their tail wagged at the thought He always makes the prettiest things with them! 

Suddenly, the little fox was snapped from their reverie by the sound of crunching snow. Their ears swiveled and twitched. 

Human?

They tensed and looked towards the camp's entrance. Névé blinked at the familiar figure coming into the camp. 

Master?!

Master was back already? But.. he just left hadn't he? He couldn't have gone to the Wind's City and come back in such a short amount of time! 

This feels wrong..

Something about this isn't right..

Névé step off of the mattress, body crouched low to the ground as they watched their Master's figure start rifling through the bookshelf. 

He hadn’t seen them yet it would seem. Good. 

They crept forward, keeping their steps as light and as quiet as possible. Their instincts were screaming that something about Master was off. 

Then, just at that moment as if guided by fate, the wind changed direction.

Névé sniffed.

Their eyes dilated and their body tensed even more, fur bristling and standing completely on end. 

Wrong smell. Wrong smell. BAD SMELL.

Both of them shared that Not-Human smell, but..

Master smelled like flowers and good-smelling waters and gentle safety.

This person smelled like the heavy air before a blizzard and danger and rotten things. 

That's not Master!

Not-Master turned around, arms full of papers and was met with the defensive and shaking and snarling face of a snow fox. A grin overtook it's face, but it wasn't like Albedo's small, happy smiles. It was a smile full of knowing and malice, matching the snarl of said fox.

"Hello Névé."

relationships are... quite troublesome

[herdustisverypretty]

AND ANOTHER TAG THING {warning: strong and possibly strange opinions, LONG ASS RAMBLES (which most definitely include strong and possibly strange opinions), frequent oversharing}

tagged by the lovely Angel <3

1. If you could go backward in time, what would you do first? #2008 Log- Don’t pretend to not be bothered by HC and co’s behaviour and actually call them out on their shit. Note to self: You don’t owe anyone anything. #2009-2014 Log- Start homeschooling earlier. Maybe actually tell people how you felt too? You might have gotten a diagnosis, and thus the treatment that has drastically improved your life, sooner and you’d probably have a lot less scars. Maybe none. And also might not be immune to the effect of regular painkillers. Also maybe then you’d be able to just get said painkillers from the cupboard where they used to be instead of having to ask your mother permission on whether you can have some- at age 22- and having to swallow them there to prove you’re not hoarding them for later (cause that’s right, you did that once, ya dumb little bastard). #2012-2013 Log aka You STILL don’t owe anyone anything- Also do not engage with HS AT ALL. Just nip that one right in the bud. Don’t even go there. PTSD ain’t fun. Also do not allow HC to worm their way back in later. PTSD still ain’t fun.  Though then you probably wouldn’t have written that one VIXX story and not only was writing that story enjoyable (sometimes???? ... maybe?????????), that story did also apparently help a lot of people too...so... maybe don’t fix yourself for the sake of those people who told you your writing helped them through a lot of their own shit. **Particularly never forget the one person who said they hadn’t cried themselves to sleep a night since finding your story. Taking that back from someone is not a nice idea.  LOTS OF SHIT THAT BASICALLY MEANS: stop trying to kill yourself, dumbass. people aren’t lying when they say things get better. well, somewhat. also don’t let people take advantage of and abuse you. or maybe do a bit. because your suffering has helped others and that’s all that really matters right? BUT JUST A BIT. definitely not all of it cause that was Shite. 

2. Conversely, if you could go forward in time, what would you want to see? Dumb men (I was going to say ‘straight, white, cis, American’ men but realised I’ve seen other types of men also being equally idiotic, SO I GUESS JUST MEN) being deleted from all youtube comments please. Also maybe shut down tumblr. I think we’d all benefit from that tbh. Also while I’m at it, can we have a game similar to Pokemon GO but instead of catching Pokemon you catch hot anime bishies. Get exercise and also get five thousand hot boyfriends :D Also retaining the nickname feature. Because that’ll be entertaining. 

3. What’s your favorite word and why? I’ve always been fond of kerfuffle. It just sounds so cute and happy. A kawaii way to say you fucked someone’s shit up. Petrichor is also a DAMN FINE word. It sounds satisfying and the meaning is EVEN MORE SATISFYING. 

4. Hot chocolate with milk or with water? Toppings? Marshmallows? It tastes better with milk, but as I at times have more than 3 a day (since I don’t drink coffee and need caffeine), if I plan to have more than 2 I will make them with water. I believe I have already stated my opinion on marshmallows as well lmao. 

5. If you could change one thing about your favorite fandom, what would it be? Tbh delete all appreciation for my absolute NOTP. And no, I don’t actually mean Akashi/Furihata like most other Akashi/Kuroko shippers; I occasionally state I don’t particularly care for that ship, but I tend to just ignore it and its existence for the most part. Whereas my actual ‘I FUCKING HATE THIS’ ship, NOPE I WANT THAT OBLITERATED> DELETE ITS EXISTENCE. WIPE IT CLEAN OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH. This can also be said to apply to one particular person in said ‘FUCK NO’ NOTP. I have frequently expressed my disdain for this character, I do not make it a secret, so it should be no leap to assume who, and which ship, I’m talking about here. 

6. You now have the ability to permanently alter one character from any fandom. Who do you pick, and what do you change? -Lmao. Okay. Well, I’ll name some names after all then, shall I?  -Can I just. Completely erase Momoi’s existence from KnB entirely? Jfc I cannot fucking stand her one bit. The only redeeming quality of her very 2D, bland, and at times downright offensive character, is her desire for the GoM to be friends again. And I could live without that somewhat nice sentiment if it meant the remaining 99.9% of her shittiness was gone. I will never like her. -I can occasionally stand her in fanfiction if she does’t have a major appearance, and also if she’s not being monumentally annoying. And even then I don’t feel any issues with killing her off due to dislike of her canon characterisation. I could literally care less what happens to her. Harsh, maybe, but I personally feel she brings nothing of value to this series, and tbh it would be far better, and certainly less cringey, without her.  -I have essentially been awake for 3 days so this is probably said with much less delicacy than I would normally use, though regardless of insomnia-induced aggression levels, the base feeling is the same. 

7. What is your philosophy on life? (Is it pointless, is it meaningful, is it what you make it, etc…) I honestly don’t care about things such as ‘the meaning of life’. We’re never going to know who put us here, if anything did, or what we’re meant to do, if there is anything, or why we are here at all. Just do whatever you want. Everyone’s going to die and the sun will turn into a black hole and swallow the earth and the universe will ultimately end in a rather unpleasant manner anyway. As long as you’re not harming anyone’s way of life, do what ever you want I could care less.  (that got kinda dark... I guess that’s what happens when people ask philosophical questions)

8. Would you consider getting a tattoo? If you would, what would it be and where would you put it? -Well the first tattoo I ever planned on getting (decided upon when I was 15), and the one I still want to be my first, is my recently passed dog’s pawprint tattooed on my left wrist; where I used to frequently self harm. The original idea was to get a tattoo of something meaningful there that would remind me every time I went to hurt myself that there’s still reasons for living. I stopped self harming around the same time my dog died in 2015, and even though I didn’t really need the reminder to not hurt myself in that way, I decided that getting his pawprint (which I was given a print of when he passed) would be especially nice, and would serve as a reminder of things I survived, and should I ever need a reminder in the future. My plan is now to get his paw on my left wrist (where the majority of damage was done, as he was my first pet), and when my cat also passes (hopefully not for a while still), I will get her pawprint on my right wrist.  -In less meaningful directions, I’ve also wanted the Grey Warden’s emblem tattooed on me for the longest time. I’m thinking thigh in terms of placement. idek what it is about them, or about the DA series in general. I mean, being a Grey Warden is arguably (is it tho) kind of a shitty thing?? You don’t really want to aspire to that if you enjoy, idk, LIFE? But their tagline of ‘In war, Victory; In Peace, Vigilance; In Death, Sacrifice’ IDK BUT IT JUST GOT ME.

9. What’s your favorite headcanon? (Could be your own or someone else’s) Shit, I have A LOT. *These are all mine as well! (mostly lol) -One that I’m still fond of is the hc that Kuroko becomes sleepy after eating a lot (particularly sugary things) which is one reason he eats quite lightly, and that the GoM during Teikou would always be attempting to overfeed him because they thought it was adorable when he curled up in their laps and went to sleep.  -Another I came up with is Akashi not being allowed to play videogames (and probably also not watch much TV) after his mother died. Thus, the GoM (and later Rakuzan regulars, YES YOU TOO MAYU WITH UR LOVE LIVE RHYTHM GAMES) would bring in their DSs and PSPs to school to let him play them as a much needed break from all the pressure being put on him.  -Ideas conceived with 6ubblegum earlier such as Masaomi actually having an unrequited interest in Kuroko’s dad when they were younger, and obviously him becoming quite upset when Kuroko’s dad married Kuroko’s mother. We also came up with the idea that Masaomi and Shiori’s marriage was arranged by their parents for mutual family benefits and that the pair never cared much for each other, and also that Shiori was aro (also I angstily suggested ‘imagine her crying under her veil as she walked down the aisle tho’). Then I also suggested the idea of what if Shiori and Kuroko’s mother were friends, going on playdates with their sons (and also the humorous idea of them putting baby Akashi+Kuroko in matching dresses). So in the end, Masaomi has never been much interested in his own son, and the only person who cared about Akashi truly was his mother, who is now gone. Also Masaomi becoming understandably VERY opposed when Akashi begins dating Kuroko in school.  -Anything involving mentally ill GoM + others (though a chunk of these aren’t even headcanons and more: I am 100% convinced these characters actually have these conditions). Especially fond of self-harmer Akashi.  -Also literally any hc where any particular character is either aro, ace, or both. I reeaaaally love ace Kise actually.  -AGENDER REO!!!!! -I’ll end it with a somewhat nsfw one. The shameless guilty pleasure with 6ubble of Kise and Kuroko being known as the sluts of the Teikou. They’ve definitely boned all the regulars (including NIji) at least once. Probably more. definitely more

10. Do humans have souls? Do animals? I’ve been awake far too long for these kinds of questions XD UHHH in my personal belief I’ve always maintained the idea that all living creatures (this includes humans, as humans are primates) have a sort of.. living energy?? My belief is that once a creature dies, of its lifeforce/energy/soul/the magic keeping it alive/whatever you fancy calling it, the personality part (which I would say comes from the brain and is made up of memories and of course the individual’s unique personality) goes to a plane with other deceased energies (suppose you could call this heaven of a sort - tbh I always pictured it as kinda like the pyreflies in FFX), while the rest of the energy (which I would say comes from the heart and is, I guess, the emotions the individual has experienced through life) is recycled and returned to the earth to be used again. SOOO a sort of somewhat logical theory that combines both afterlife and reincarnation. I also think that the recycled energies can recognise other energies they knew in previous lives. Not in a literal sense, but more like, they might feel an inexplicable connection, be it between two people, a pet and a human, etc etc. I kinda like the idea of this also explaining real life cases of supposed ‘soulmates’. Two energies meeting that once knew each other and were compatible in a previous life (sounds really YA romance I know). This could also be potentially used to explain some conditions or mental illnesses. Recycled energy that previously had lots of negative experiences may be renewed as someone who is also troubled (blame ur disorders on your energy ancestors lmao). This could explain troubled people who have no family history of any similar experiences. IT ALL SOUNDS VERY FANTASTICAL BUT YE. This has all come together after years of viewing and researching many different spiritual beliefs and recounts of spiritual or other ‘incredible’ events, in an attempt to kind of merge everything into something that could potentially be real and/or believable. Idk if scientifically this would make any sense, but I feel it’s logical enough to suit me anyways. 

11. What’s your favorite holiday and why? Well I have mentioned I’m pagan before, sooooo, my answer to this will probably be weird? XD LONG AND BORING BACKSTORY TIME: I didn’t really become self identified as pagan until the age of 13-14, and before that I grew up typically celebrating Christian holidays (Easter, Christmas) despite my immediate family not being religious at all. I always saw these holidays as more just time to be with family than anything else. So I do still celebrate Easter and Christmas as I’ve grown up with them in a culture that celebrates them whether you’re religious or not. I guess Christmas was always my favourite? It’s roughly a month after my birthday, far enough that I get double presents, but close enough that there’s still lots of ongoing excitement. And growing up it was typically the only time each side of my family would all be together (we’d alternate, one year at my mum’s parents, the next at my dad’s). But as I’ve gotten older, and grandparents have died and families have drifted apart, I’ve become less interested in both Easter and Christmas, seeing them now more as just times to buy stuff for people when you really can’t afford to, and tbh now I find myself more drawn to things such as Samhain (also ref that if you have seen spn, they butchered the pronunciation. it’s more akin to ‘sah-ween’ it’s an Irish word I think, which explains everything tbh) in particular. Before last year I had never sought out other pagans in my area and thus was a bit lax in my celebration of sabbats, so when I actually started meeting up with other people in my city early last year, it actually really changed things for me (so emotional sobsob). The Samhain I celebrated with this group earlier in the year (as I’m in the southern hemisphere, Samhain for me is in May) was actually a really really special thing that I did. It also happened to coincide around the 2 year anniversary of my dog’s death, and as Samhain (which has become modern Halloween to most) is a day for celebrating loved ones who have died, it was just a really nice experience to think about my dog, as well as my grandmother who died 3 months before him.  THAT WAS A LONG, BORING, AND MUSHY WAY OF SAYING THAT BASICALLY: ‘pagan Halloween’ (tho that term doesn’t even make sense lmao) is actually really lovely and memorable compared to almost every other ‘traditional’ holiday of my life. 

Geez you just happened to ask all The Big Questions. And you literally went from 100 to 0 to 100 and then probably to 1000. Or maybe that was just me. I AM VERY TIRED AFTER VOMITING ALL THAT OUT. also my finger joints hurt. 

WELL, if you got all through that, here are my own questions, which I totally Did Not steal from other question memes already in existence. I’m definitely not lazy. No I’m actually just very tired lol. These are all going to be fandomy/OTPy questions because WE REALLY NEED SOME LIGHT CONTENT AFTER ALL THAT. Plus everyone loves talking about their fandoms and shit. 

1. A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind? 2. What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom? What fandom was it? 3. Your favourite fandom {for the people, not the thing you spazz over}? 4. Are there any fandom popular ships that you don’t like or just don’t get? Alternatively, are there any typically overlooked minor ships that you think are really underappreciated?  (hay this one i made up myself lol) 5. What was the first thing you ever contributed to a fandom? 6. What’s a popular romantic/sexual ship that you can only ever see as a brotp? (also me!) 7. If you had the chance to make your OTP canon, and your NOTP very clearly stated as ‘definitely not canon eVER’, how would you express this in your ‘new canon’? (i’m on a roll) 8. Which character is Daddy Material? (there’s always at least one, admit it) 9. Character you relate to and why? (please share all tragic similarities) 10. As either a reader, writer, or both!, what’s your favourite fanfic genre and/or tropes? Are there any you always stay away from? 11. Opinions on omegaverse (in any and all forms, ranging from early spn fics, to the surprising amount of BTS/kpop fics, or have you tried the Japanese manga take on omegaverse - or even.... Life From the Ashes)? 

Tagging: @6ubble-gum AGAIN LOL cause these are new questions and I want to see your answers | @the-chibi-sempai | @justsimplyl | @humanitys-shortest-soldier | @kelandry5 | @seijuurouus | @sugaless-coffee bro r u still alive | @kagabutt bcuz we still need to talk moar |

[drferox]

Frankie

A Question Tax in the form of a story that all the recent posts about euthanasia and crying/professionalism while at clinic. Allow me to tell you the time I nearly made all the staff at a clinic cry.

A little background first, I once had a cat named Francis, but in the course of his life was usually known as Frankie. He was a good, extremely affectionate (to humans only, and only to the good ones; if I was dating someone and Frankie didn’t happen to like them that was a red flag), stubborn lad who at the age of nearly 14 came up with mast cell cancer in his intestines. The kitty oncologist gave him a prognosis of 6 months to a year with chemo, 1-2 years with both surgery and chemo, and 2 weeks to a month on what we called palliative care, which was not much more than prednisone and a couple others to help with tummy troubles as thus far the only clue that something was even amiss at that point was more than usual vomiting and decreased appetite. After reviewing not only the cost, but also researching how the side-effects from the medication/surgery would impact his QOL, and talking to Frank’s primary care doctor while watching my old tabby try to comfort me while I was crying in the doctor’s office and acted as if nothing else was wrong… I chose the palliative care.

With help and frequent check-ups with his regular doctor–adjusting things to optimize comfort as he progressed, although not much changed until about a couple days before he passed–he somehow lasted more than a year. I got an extra birthday, Christmas, several nights of him tearing around the house like a stampeding elephant at 3 AM, catnip days, and all sorts of other fun moments I didn’t think I would get. It baffled all the care staff involved, but we were happy he was happy/content. I caught him when he “crashed” so soon that our veterinarian was able to stabilize him to the point of not being in any discernible pain or discomfort, but he had “the look” along with other behavioral changes, so we scheduled him to be euthanized at home (a service our clinic provides) at the most opportune time, which only was a day and a half later. 

The next day I made inquiries about donating his cadaver. I remembered when I was a pre-vet major in university one of the dissections I learned the most from was a cat, and we treasured those specimens we got with special conditions. They were all prized and respected, though, as they were scarce to begin with. I found out the University of Pennsylvania had just such a need, and my clinic offered to hold and pack him for me until I could make the trip to the campus to drop him off. The receptionist cried over the phone when I finalized everything with him.

Although, the crying REALLY began when they came and saw my set-up for Frankie at home. I had positioned everything he needed within a few steps reach for him in front of the big window by our deck, his favorite spot, which got a lot of sunshine. I had positioned his favorite heater on low next to it, and a laundry basket of freshly laundered clothes (I actually had several layers of towels underneath the soft bits on top for when the time came), which is where he had been snoozing on and off by the time the team arrived. When his vet asked why I did it, I just said, “Have you ever heard of a cat that didn’t like to hop on top of a fresh load of laundry? He always preferred my laundry to any special cat bed or box for a nap anyhow,” and that’s when the nurse excused herself for a cry. She had been one of the ones who was a frequent carer of his. 

Frankie was euthanized peacefully, without any issues, surrounded by those who loved him, on a mound of freshly laundered clothes, and a belly partially fully of naughty human food and treats (the only things he wanted to eat post-crash, the vet OK'ed it). His doctor, bless her, kept it together then, but she had a bit of trouble after I brought him out to their van after I let the rest of our kitties say goodbye. The next day I picked him up from the clinic, where they had Frank packed and ready per the university’s specifications. Instead of a tech or nurse bringing him out to me, everyone did. His vet carried his box while the nurses, techs, and other staff that grew to know him well came out to say goodbye. Apparently the owner of the clinic was in the mix, too. No one had actually heard of a client donating a cadaver of a passed pet at their clinic, but they remembered like I did the first time they were able to learn from one during their education and wanted to say thank you on behalf of the future generations of those who pursue veterinary medicine and their clients. When they told me that, I finally sobbed. During his passing I tried to keep things relatively under control so as not to disturb Frankie, but then I ugly cried, which sent off the chain reaction of tears and hugs throughout the lobby. Thank goodness I had my partner with me or I would have had quite the time driving the 1.5 hours to UPenn after that. The collective waterworks would have put the fountains of Bellagio to shame.

The card they gave me with his pawprint had also been signed by nearly everyone at the clinic. Usually in my experience only the treating veterinarian signed it, but Frank was special, and to this day I get a bit teary eyed when I pull it out. The crying from the staff didn’t put me off at all. It was a moment of bittersweet connection that let me know how much they cared for him. I was grateful for it.

Thank you for all that you do, doctor. Your blog has been amazing and informative, and I thoroughly enjoy the individual stories you share.

Thank you for your story.