#wolf among weeds

[synodicsoma]

Slowly coaxing myself to work on my fanfic, Wolf Among Weeds, by drawing future and unwritten scenes from it. Ain't fair, it's so much easier drawing my plans than actually writing them out orz

[passthepittcola]

do not feel up to drawing again now so i'll talk about this instead. what do you MEAN this isn't tagged as incest. siblings don't generally kiss each other's foreheads. to reference myself, what the H. AND IT'S SO CUTE .... BUT IT'S NOT SHIP...... 💔 wasted opportunity here really.

very excited for this to continue updating though because it's said it'll be werewolf!stan and "only go downhill from here." and boy oh boy if i don't love me some doggy stangst.

[bartholomewillustrated]

Does Auger prefer to eat meat or vegetables? Is Auger violent or passive? What about... sugarcube?...

For those creations by Lazarus which eat (if they do) meat, are they capable of consuming "Carne Nullis" or would it cause them to become mutated due to contact with his blood? (Or does it have to be fresh blood from his blood stream)?

It was written that Hieronymous is 'unstable' and is 'always in need of repair'. Does that mean Hieronymous is unstable mentally, or physically? I noticed in the drawing that Hieronymous looks sickly with no fur of Hieronymous' own, but Shelley had bits of Shelley's own fur growing and looked strong and vibrant. What causes Hieronymous, in your canon, to be unstable versus Shelley being strongly stable? Is it related to the Cadou, Lazarus' powers, or something else entirely?

Is Hieronymous' nature of being able to like or dislike people even though Hieronymous is very aggressive relative to Hieronymous' instability, or just a quirk of Hieronymous' personality? Are the Wear-Wolves positive/less aggressive to those with a Cadou vs those without, or it doesn't matter? Is it possible for them to have a passive or friendly interaction with a mere stranger, say, if that stranger were to offer them a snack?

Do Wear-Wolves only eat fresh meat, or can they eat cooked, rendered meats? Is there something a Wear-Wolf really cannot have, like chocolate or raisins, or do they forego the typical drawbacks of actual canines?

Ooooo hoohohoho!! I Love this! What excellent thought provoking questions!! Thank you so much!!

under a cut for obvious Length reasons v-v

Does Auger prefer to eat meat or vegetables?

Auger was made specifically with the idea in mind that he can, and would, consume Anything. You could feed that lad a Tree Branch if you wanted to. He doesn't really have organs the same way a regular horse would, or even the same way the Worn Wolves do. He's got what is essentially a large grinder for an abdomen, in which any consumed material gets ground into nothing. As such he doesn't really express much of a preference. He'll eat whatever he's fed. He does get to graze in the summer on nice fresh grass cause there is a horse brain In There, Kinda. but when fresh foliage is short in the winter he eats a lotta old hay or bark and such. (Lazarus's creations don't have the same nutritional needs as a normal animal/person? per say? Even a human augmented by cadou/megamycete still needs to eat a balanced diet, but because Lazarus's creations are all hodge-podged together and ambulated exclusively via Mold Magic they just kinda need.. Something in the tank to give them energy, and even then.. Laz is Dubious that that's really the case.)

Is Auger violent or passive? What about... sugarcube?...

I wouldn't say Auger is actively Aggressive, but he's.. like... Fight is his first response to anything he doesn't like. He's cool with Lazarus (most of the time) but everyone else is pretty iffy (In the imaginary version of the game in that exists in my head that has Laz in it Auger is actually a mini boss Ethan fights before getting knocked tf out) Even Karl he's pretty ehhhh with.. So sugar cube? You could try, But Watch Out!

For those creations by Lazarus which eat (if they do) meat, are they capable of consuming "Carne Nullis" or would it cause them to become mutated due to contact with his blood? (Or does it have to be fresh blood from his blood stream)?

SO! This was an interesting one and I really had to ponder on it because I somehow had not at all thought about someone (except maybe Lazarus himself because he's a Freak) trying to eat Carne Nullis.. let alone Laz feeding it to his creations... I think it Is Technically edible. BUT If you are a person who is not predisposed to have a favourable reaction to Cadou/megamycete it will cause you Harm. Because it's really like a weird mixture of actual meat and The Mold, in a similar way to how Ethan is both a Meat Boy and a Mold Boy. But if you're reaction to Cadou/megamycete is stable it's just like a really mid and kinda musty cut of whatever meat it was generated from initially.

Because, then, his creations are dependent on Cadou to live, they can eat Carne Nullis just fine. They don't usually, because Lazarus kinda needs his blood, but they Could. (To answer a sorta sub-question I see nestled in there as well; Once Lazarus's blood has like.. fully formed and become Carne Nullis it no longer holds its mutative growth property. Only when it's still liquid can it grow or mold the extra flesh)

It was written that Hieronymous is 'unstable' and is 'always in need of repair'. Does that mean Hieronymous is unstable mentally, or physically?

Physically, poor thing is always in need of replacement parts or restitching, and Lazarus has just given up at trying to figure out how to get eyes to not immediately rot out of his head..

I noticed in the drawing that Hieronymous looks sickly with no fur of Hieronymous' own, but Shelley had bits of Shelley's own fur growing and looked strong and vibrant. What causes Hieronymous, in your canon, to be unstable versus Shelley being strongly stable? Is it related to the Cadou, Lazarus' powers, or something else entirely?

It's all in the material really. Lazarus sources a few different things for the flesh that makes up his creations, the Worn Wolves in particular are comprised primarily of actual wolf/dog parts, a little bit of human, and Lycan meat/skin (with little filler bits from other animals where necessary).

Lycans are tricky in terms of quality, as they're already proven unstable against the cadou so getting the right combination of A Strong(er) Lycan, a Good Amount of stable material from other sources, and balancing it all to react well to the Cadou can be Finicky. Once all the parts are together and Lazarus is satisfied with the result they are injected with partial little chunks of Cadou which brings them to "life". So Laz's powers really don't factor into the stability too much, once the sculpting is finished the end result is really in the hands of the flesh's reaction to the Cadou, which is something that's really hard to predict with 100% certainty.

Heironymous isn't the Only unstable worn wolf, he's just the Most unstable. (and has become the Little Baby of the pack because of it.) He was one of the earlier experiments and Lazarus hadn't got the formula exact yet, where Shelley was formed later in the pack, but her relative strength made her the Leader.

Is Hieronymous' nature of being able to like or dislike people even though Hieronymous is very aggressive relative to Hieronymous' instability, or just a quirk of Hieronymous' personality?

Just his personality. The worn wolves are probably Lazarus's most successful venture. His most Complete Works, in terms of overall functionality and... Lively-ness (Auger being a close second, and a creation I've yet to reveal that he collaborated with Karl on that is leagues beyond anything either of them made alone >:3c) So each of them is actually pretty Dog-Like in that they have determinable personalities and are capable of like.. Being Clever (where something like Auger is mostly reactionary) or being Calm, or learning to trust other people etc.. But Heironymous's particular docility is also probably in part because he is so often Babied, by the other wolves and by Lazarus.

There all very aggressive innately but they are also, for lack of a better word, Well Trained. Are the Wear-Wolves positive/less aggressive to those with a Cadou vs those without, or it doesn't matter?

That doesn't particularly matter, they're aggressive at whoever Lazarus directs them to be aggressive at.

Is it possible for them to have a passive or friendly interaction with a mere stranger, say, if that stranger were to offer them a snack?

It Is! In fact! there is a very important Character in FaHI I have yet to introduce; Johanna, Lazarus's young assistant, who does exactly this!

Do Wear-Wolves only eat fresh meat, or can they eat cooked, rendered meats?

They could eat cooked meat, but they wouldn't enjoy it nearly as much.

Is there something a Wear-Wolf really cannot have, like chocolate or raisins, or do they forego the typical drawbacks of actual canines?

Though they share a large amount of their material body with like.. actual dogs, I think the added human/lycan parts of their composition and the fact they are puppeted by weird Mold Magic moots any foods ill effects.. they aren't Quite Auger, you couldn't feed them Sticks, but like.. they could eat some raisins.

This was so much fun!!! thank you so much for sending this!!! I take a very "I don't have to explain myself to you as long as it all Seems internally logically consistent" approach to story telling so a few of these really made me think!

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

Now for the final round!

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

What's more happy holiday cheer than cheering on the destruction of a giant straw goat?

The birds may have won 2023, but I believe in humanity's capability for arson for 2024 <3

a vote for me is a vote for arson! This message was approved by hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavle is SUCH a public service and holiday feature

what's more tumblr than comical destruction and holidays?

sometimes you just gotta vote with your matchsticks

Bringing a cultural staple to tumblr since 2021

Arson is so much more fun

It would be really funny and ironic if it survives the tournament

you have no idea how much joy watching the chronicling of the gavlebocken brings me every year

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet provides an essential public service

always love seeing a bit of Swedish history on my dash 'Swedish bamboo season'

the goat account is peak gimmick blog

If I don't get to beat the goat then nobody does. -pointless-achievements

Never ask Tumblr to choose between lies and arson! The winner threatens by nature to rip apart the very fabric of our DNA!

goat statues made out of straw are exciting and interesting

I wanna see things burn

the goat is an essential part of tumblr culture and the goat blog is a sacred keeper of the tumblr high holidays

watching to see if the big straw goat has burned down each year is a true delight, something I never knew existed until tumblr and the blog dedicated to it

the incredibly focused nature of @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is what makes their gimmick superior.

Please guys bite gavlebocken

Look, I'm Danish. I was put on this earth to annoy the Swedes and vice versa, but even I voted for @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavlebocken is also such a fun name and this blog informed be about its existence, so for that I am grateful

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is providing a vital service! Every year, people rely on their updates regarding the fate of our most beloved Yule Goat! How could they NOT deserve the win!?

sacred anti-corporate arson

a vote for gävlebocken is a vote for anarchy!

pls vote for them they're the funniest gimmick keeping track on the funniest phenomena in recent human history, like when i look at their acc i think to myself this is what tumblr was created for

the goat is the GOAT

HASGAVLEBOCKENBURNEDDOWNYET DESERVES TO WIN, I have them on post alert for a REASON

the holiday season wouldn't be the same without them

they do important reporting. Do you look at the news and be like 'the reporters aren't doing work they're just telling you whats happening.' Have some respect for the goat news

let the weird burnt sacrificial ritual of it all appeal to you

nothing makes my December more interesting, arson should win

doesn't barge in on other peoples posts which is always a good thing in my books. not a fan when obnoxious gimmick blogs turn a decent post into a garbled mess

[drunkenskunk]

So I'm working on more character and background details for the Karrakin!Tuera I'm gonna use in Theta's upcoming Lancer game. And I got to thinking: what awards and medals would she have? Because this whole Shadow of the Wolf game is gonna take place in the Baronies, so there's going to be lots of parties and reasons for dressing up. Which means: a soldier wearing a parade/dress uniform will be expected to adhere to certain... standards.

And it's really kinda frustrating on several levels, because... alright, here's the thing. Tuera? She does not care. She genuinely doesn't give a shit about any of these "bits of tin and colored ribbon." She was one of 100 facsimile clones of Venthrax who were, almost immediately, thrown into the proverbial meat grinder to "weed out the weak." Of that clutch, she was the only one who even lived to see her 15th birthday. She has no illusions about concepts like "heroism," and knows exactly what the true nature of war is like, so... for her, all of these decorations for "valor" and "bravery" and "honor" are exactly as much of a joke as those words are.

However: she also needs to maintain the illusion. Soldier or not, existing as a noble heir in a society of weirdo monarchists like the Karrakin Trade Baronies requires her to act a certain way, so as to avoid drawing suspicion. And despite being a tremendous show off and routinely using herself as a distraction for others, drawing suspicion - specifically, the wrong kind of suspicion - is completely antithetical to her goals. What she says and does, and what she actually thinks, will almost always be vastly different things in this game. It's going to be a lot of spinning plates for me to balance, both in and out of character.

So, as part of this nonsense, I started workshopping some ideas. Scratching out potential notes, looking things up on wikipedia, that kind of thing...

I'm gonna be honest: I have a sneaking suspicion that when your wikipedia deep dive to help you figure out details for a character you're playing in the celebrated mud-and-lasers mech-based tabletop RPG Lancer has led you to pages like "Aiguillette," "Order of chivalry" "Military Merit Cross (Prussia)," and "August von Mackensen," among others...

I feel like that... is perhaps when you know it's too much. Please take a step back. You're going too far. You need to stop.

On the plus side, I did manage to sketch out what I hope is a decent design for her Raven Guard officers uniform. No medals or awards or anything (except the sash), but this was more for me to try and get a better handle on the outfit than the loose headshot from earlier, anyway.

Probably would have been more thematically appropriate for her to wear a uniform more reminiscent of the actual mounted cavalry Lancer units from European militaries of the 1800's, but... I dunno, I've always thought the Hussar jacket had more style.

That being said, I'm not going to include the busby with the death's head emblem on it that was often part of Hussar uniforms. That would be... like... c'mon. This is Lancer, not Warhammer 40k, a death's head emblem would be wildly inappropriate.

The cavalry sabers are all wrong, though. But hey, let's just chalk that up to me knocking out a quick and dirty sketch and being hopelessly out of practice.

My hand still hurts.

[ill-written-god]

M | 1455 | mlm | werewolf/human, prey/predator, being hunted down as a form of foreplay | they don't have names bc I wanted to pretend it's not Steddie | it is | it was supposed to be a back to school fic too | pre-relationship, mutual pining if u squint

One of the students in the wobbly line tied his hair in preparation for the event. He has been anxious for the past few days but now as he looked around, it settled his nerves. Everyone was here for the same reason and didn’t look much more prepared than him. Meaning taking a shower, putting on shoes easy to run in, and a crop top he hoped exposed his midriff in an alluring way. 

Behind them - the Prey, the Hunters were huffing and puffing, claws digging into dirt, their hot breath too far away and yet so easy to imagine on his neck. 

It was his last year of college and he finally let his curiosity (and lust) get the best of him. For the first and last time, he was joining the Hunt Down - a ‘celebration of youth and new things to come’, brought by their monster peers. Read: fucking in the forest under the last full moon before school.

He’s been hesitant until the last moment, but this afternoon his roommate reminded him it was now or never. Not only because they were on their way to finishing college, but also because the faculty was doing their best to shut the celebration down.

So here he was - on the edge of campus grounds, where the picnic space was giving way to the local forest. His skin was itching in participation and the arousal was buzzing low in his belly.

He was almost ashamed to be here, almost being the crucial word. He was way past that point, he was on his last leg of college and if he felt like being hunted like a prey by a bunch of frat boys, then he had the right to do it. He grew as a man in the past few years. Because it took true balls to go from "fuck the jocks" to "fuck with the jocks".

One of them, especially. He was hoping the guy was one of the Hunters tonight, the rumors better be true or else he might red his way out of it. Yellow if the mood hits. He would be green all the way for him, though.

That he could be ashamed of; his infatuation with one of the frat guys. Granted, he was from one of the newer, more inclusive fraternities, but a fraternity nonetheless. With how painfully cliche it was, it helped that mingling with monsters was still frowned upon.

Because his frat boy crush was also a werewolf. 

The dark clouds had finally parted and the full moon, the last one of the summer, came into view above the trees. A cacophony of howls pierced the night sky - the hunt was on.

Too stunned to react, it took him a second to register the thunder of shoes and the giggles accompanying them. The Prey got a head start until the howling stopped. He scrambled to follow the other freaks (mostly giggling sorority girls) who found the idea of being hunted between the trees thrilling.

He knew he was an easy target. He’s been slacking at PE for as long as he could remember, and the terrain of squishy moss and fallen twigs decreased his abilities even more. It would be hellishly embarrassing if despite that nobody considered him worthy of hunting down. He was just some guy, a metalhead, among a group of pretty girls and even prettier boys. Who could he possibly appeal to? What kind of werewolf would sniff his weed and sweat drenched shirt and decide ‘this one’?

His thoughts and wheezes were so loud he hadn't noticed when the howls stopped. It might have been mere seconds or minutes ago but what he could be sure of was that the wolves were now in the forest with him.

He heard a scream to his left, a delighted one. To his right, slightly far away, a howl. And behind him, thunder of paws.

Behind him.

He wasn’t sure it was him the wolf was after, but his instincts kicked in regardless and he pushed his muscles to their limits. He knew they must be aching now, but he couldn't feel it. Tomorrow though, he probably won’t be able to use his legs at all.

Pinecones and twigs were cracking under his heavy boots, but it wasn’t about the stealth. It was about the thrill of running away from a predator that will do unimaginable things to you when you get caught. 

If you ask nicely, of course. A stoplight system was in place for the safety of participants.

He slipped on a patch of moss and the beast got closer, the hot breath on his back confirming that yes, he was after Eddie and nobody else. Zeroed on this twig of a human reeking of weed. There was a playful snap, cold wet nose brushing against his skin, and a tug on his loose top. The one he wore for the sole reason to be easier to catch, pull, and tug towards capture. Also getting your clothes torn on you sounded hot and he had millions of other Metallica shirts in his closet.

What did not sound hot was getting your face smashed in by a tree at a fuckfest. He had maybe a millisecond to flinch, before he was yanked backwards, away from the tree trunk. He collided with a mass of fur and muscle, stumbling to the forest ground in a tangle of limbs. 

He and his captor rolled across moss and twigs and when they stopped he couldn't help a short and nervous laugh that pushed out of him.

The werewolf's snout was in his hair, sniffing aggressively.

"Okay?"

The words sounded unnatural in the fanged mouth but they were understandable enough. He nodded despite the weird position he was in, sprawled on a big wolf.

"I'm fine."

The grasp on him tightened for millisecond. A reminder.

"For now."

Right. His breath stuttered and he suddenly could feel all the scorching hot points of contact. There were a lot of them considering the wolf took his fall.

He shifted, a pathetic attempt at putting distance between them, but a quick yank on his wrist was all it took to have him stumble back into the wolf's grasp. Without time to even struggle, he was flipped over a broad shoulder. His teeth bit hard into his lip and his thighs squeezed even harder. He wasn't ready to turn into a whining mess this early into the night. Being manhandled was a low blow.

But as enticing as the act was, the logistics of it weren't that pleasant. His body was shaken with each step and the hairy shoulder was digging into his hip bone. The swaying motion of his head forced him to close his eyes and focus on the heavy scent of sweaty fur and the soft tufts of it between his fingers.

Finally the blur of movement, trees and fur subsided and the world shifted, his wobbly legs setting on an equally wobbly surface, promptly making him collapse. The wobbly surface turned out to be a patch of moss. He ran his fingers through it, damp and soft. Suspiciously soft. He twisted around, caressing it with his hand before looking up with poorly contained curiosity.

"Did you prepare a den?"

The wolf huffed and while the snout wasn't very expressive, there was something in his movements obvious enough to be read as sheepish.

"You did!" The smirk was now on full blast, he couldn't help himself. He spread himself on the makeshift bedding while cooing: "Is the big bad wolf secretly a softie? Wanted his prey comfortable for the main event?"

The wolf growled, a warning, but he was having too much fun teasing a literal beast hovering over him, his heart thudding in his chest, thighs spreading subconsciously just a bit more.

"Did you come here in the morning with a rake, found the fluffiest moss blanket and cleaned it up for me? Awww that's so sweet of you. Such a good puppy."

The tail behind the werewolf twitched while his thighs tensed like it took everything from the beast not to start wagging it. But before he could make a comment about that, the wolf decided he had enough of his teasing and dropped on top of him, caging him between his huge arms. It growled right in his face and his brain took an embarrassingly long moment to decipher it as a word. A question.

"Color?"

He let out a breath, relaxing into the mossy bed set up for whatever the wolf had planned for him. His fingers traced the paws resting next to his head, the sharp claws, soft fur and strong muscles beneath.

"Green, puppy."

[storiesinthecupboard]

The dog called Shadow

He wakes up at night with racing thoughts that keep him awake like stubborn roots

His seagulls have flown away and left him with dry seas every time, every day a silent walk among the trees

He gets up from his bed because he cannot sleep he dreads the back of the room the one with all the weeds

Where the skeletons are hiding beneath the skewed and the narrow and in that closet with his costumes and props

lies his dog called Shadow.

Who barks boisterous words and chases down the stars breaks his leash and scares things that wander in the dark

And who grows taller in the dusk and escapes the coming noon tears down writings and words that take little to no room

And he cannot be tamed or taught any real words he chases his tail to the end of the world

When the daylight comes he runs away in fear and leaves tiny traces of his shape as fragments in the sphere

Which reflect his true form that ripples in morning sight a poodle in a wolf’s coat

with fur made of storms and starlight.

[killer-orca-cosplay]

@is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not

IlClan Watch Informational Recording: Star Commander Sealth Puget and Weapons Officer Tolkitai Regimental Command Supernova-"Claymore" Royal Blackwatch

(Recording begins; in shot is a large glass window, with water behind it. The presence of weeds, live fish and crustaceans, and seaweed on most surfaces indicate it is not a tank, but a window into a live body of water. A wolf eel casually swims past, disturbing a rockfish on a small boulder near a kelp's holdfast. Before the window stands a large form, wearing Royal Blackwatch uniform, but with additional markings; the emblem of the Seawolves Militia, a unit that formed during the Star League Civil War to enact asymetrical revenge and terror strikes against Amaris's ilk that had set up in and around the remains of Unity City.

The uniform is worn by a truly massive being, larger even than an Elemental. It bears more features with the Terran ocean predator refereed to as Orcanius Orca than with homosapiens. The anthropromorphized orca speaks)

"Greeting and Khan's blessings to you all, trothkin. I am Star Commander Sealth Puget. It is an honor to have the chance to serve alongside you in this upcoming mission."

(Puget bows politely; the notable presence of a small dorsal fin poking from under his modified uniform is noticeable. It bears a tartan pattern of blue and green in proper Blackwatch fashion)

"The Watch asked me to provide a small history of myself and my Bloodname for those that would be curious, and, I suppose, untrusting of my place among the Blackwatch. It is only fair, and if it will ensure cooperation and curtail any would-be trials that we can ill afford at this time, I will do so gladly." (As Puget speaks, a large form appears in the glass behind him; the wolf eel from before darts away in panic and the rock fish dives for cover as a full, feral orca swims into view. This orca is not normal however; it, too, is somehow wearing a Blackwatch uniform, or at least, as much as can be worn by a cetacean. Its flesh is marked in several places by wicked burns, surgery scars, and several very large and prominent cybernetic augmentations. It is obvious this orca is a warrior, and has suffered in its time in life, bearing scars any Clan veteran would be proud to see and share).

"As your eyes will no doubt have already informed you, I am one of the few survivors of the Totem Warrior project. Many of the totem animals of the original Clans, Kerensky bless their names, were deemed too difficult to properly emulate through it. And as such, other animals were chosen, most of them from from Terra itself. Unsurprisingly, the apex predator of Terra's glorious oceans was a perfect example, and I was graced with its visage. The scientists involved suggested me to be the totem of Clan Iron Orca, as a way to provide logistical reasoning, and the IlKhan has graciously agreed to the possibility of forming such a clan following his ascention to his rightful place upon Terra's seat. As such, I stand before you both as a fellow trueborn, but also as a Bloodnamed warrior of a new clan as of yet to be properly born. It is my hope that this mission will ensure its creation through honor and victory."

(Puget gestures gently with his hand to the orca floating in the water behind him)

"It is not my duty alone, however. For I am but a simple trueborn, and I am honored to serve alongside a true and total legend."

(The orca, very noticably and distinctly, dips in the water in the cetacean form of a bow. Its uniform, made slightly unsteady by the water and the light, bears the emblem of the original Blackwatch, the Unity City garrison, and a single, black stripe along its right side, with one word upon it; GORST).

"This is Weapons Officer Tolkitai. Do not let his non-human form deceive you; he is as close to a flesh and blood incarnation of the Rememberance's events as we will ever find." (Puget pauses, and lights flash along the cybernetics of the orca's back. A similar light blinks on the metal brace that holds to Puget's spine)

"He bids you all a honorable morning and gives you Cameron's blessing."

(Puget shifts slightly to let the orca float next to him in the water. The cetacean bobs up to the surface for a moment, erupting an exhalation of breath before diving back down to float near him once more)

"The officer is a living link to our people's past, and to what came before us. He was there when Unity City was reduced to a crater, and the first Blackwatch were martyred. The wounds you witness upon his flesh were inflicted by the thrice-cursed usurper-" (Puget spits the word from his mouth like venom)

"-and his craven dogs of the 4th Dragoons. He was but a normal orca, before that, but was close enough to the blast that ended the Last Stand that his flesh boiled and his bones twisted. However, he survived, and the Star League's scientist caste worked their wonders upon him. Healed him, rebuilt him with experimental cybernetics, creating a true marvel of League era technology. Sacrificing for the League, did Tolkitai go into stasis, to wait the intervening centuries until our righteous return to Terra's soil. He speaks to me through our shared Enhanced Imaging implants, and I am honored to consider him my weapons support officer for my Battlemech. I merely drive the machine; Tolki engages the targets. It is a most beneficial agreement."

(Tolkitai does a roll in the water here, seemingly just for fun)

"It is our honor to be assigned to Star Commander Hazen's Command Star for this upcoming operation. The two of us will be operating within a modified OC-X1b "Orca" superheavy platform. We are aware of the irony of the machine's title. We accept it as a requirement of being a totem."

(The two bow in synch)

"Honor and victory, fellow Mechwarriors. And glory to the IlClan, and it's most honorable IlKhan."

[ssukidesu]

Inextricably Knotted (an Inukag + Jane Eyre AU) [Chapter 7]

Summary: Kagome Higurashi was orphaned as a baby and raised by her cruel aunt until the age of ten, after which she went to school and learned the art of service and self-suppression. Now eighteen, Kagome takes a job as the governess of Shippo, the young ward of the great and mysterious Lord Inuyasha Taisho.

But as Kagome gets to know her bemusing master, a ghost seems to haunt his estate, hinting that there is a long-lost secret hiding on the third floor.

(Read on AO3)

tag list: @heynikkiyousofine @xanthippe-writes

Chapter 7: Portraits and Wings

The presence of guests at Jidai-Ju Hall persisted into the following weekend. The days were not much changed—Shippo received most of her attention, even though she received very little of his. Despite his fascination with the goings on of the company, Kagome managed during most lessons to wrench some productivity out of him.

During the evenings, Kagome would sit as she was bid among their company silently. Her presence clearly disconcerted everyone—except him who ordered it, as he instead preferred to ignore her altogether. Kagome would pretend not to notice as she read lines of whatever book she chose to accompany her that night, with varying degrees of success. 

The group would often play games—cards, billiards, darts, guessing games, and so on. Tonight—which was a misty Saturday night that hinted at spring's approach—it appeared the game of choice would be charades.

It was Mr. Taisho’s idea. “Let us test the skill of our silence,” he had proclaimed dramatically as he came into the parlor last, as he always did. The room bustled in anticipation, and during the commotion, he walked over to grab a book off the shelf adjacent to Kagome’s seat. 

“Will you play?” he asked simply, gaze flicking to her face for a brief moment.

Surprised by the address, Kagome only shook her head.

To her relief, he did not insist. He returned to the heart of the room and declared himself the partner of the woman of the hour. 

Lady Yura sported a fine dress of pale blue, floral buds of beads and lace decorating the sweetheart bust and form-fitting sleeves. Her short hair was distinctly straight, and a dainty white ribbon worked to frame her face as a headband. The other women in the room donned similar, though less remarkable, attire. The men wore typical vests and shed their coats once the fire’s heat permeated the room. Mr. Taisho shared the fashion. 

The other pairs were named: Kagura with Ayame—the young demoness with brown hair—and Naraku with Kouga—the unfortunate recipient of Ayame’s too-frequent affections. In the last few days, Kagome had learned that both Ayame and Kouga were wolf demons, and Naraku and Kagura were some other type seemingly unassociated with a specific animal. But whatever they were, they were indeed kin of some sort, though the precise kind evaded Kagome still.

With the parties ready, Mr. Taisho opened the book, which housed charade prompts. “Who would like to go first?” he asked.

“I think we should, dear Inuyasha,” said Yura. “Someone must show everyone how it’s to be done.”

As Kagome’s grasp of the nuances between each relationship deepened, she found Yura’s air of confidence surprisingly fragile. The woman’s beauty proved unmatched; however, whenever her desired devotee did not fully satisfy her with their attention, her expression became strained, and her smile fabricated. And worse for her, Kagome thought for certain that Mr. Taisho noticed, too.

Perhaps more than anyone else, Kagome watched her master as he navigated through the weeds and waves of whatever bog this party was proving itself to be. But he did not miss a beat—every joke, he built upon masterfully; every flirt, he returned with charm. And yet, Kagome was becoming less and less convinced of the truth of her master’s affections for the woman. 

When she first arrived, Kagome bristled and flinched at Mr. Taisho’s smiles and trifles with Lady Yura. But Kagome’s observations—once she gained the courage to allow them—revealed that their companionship was quite hollow. 

And this was not merely the hopeful opinion of a naive girl. Kagome watched herself just as carefully, and she was confident that she was seeing with the undeceived eyes of a self-controlled woman: indeed, Kagome saw that Lord Inuyasha was going to marry Lady Yura—for rank, for family. But not for love. 

And this game of charades, with all of its coquetry and costume and comedy, was nothing more than the ironic pastime of the larger parody between the players. 

What frustrated Kagome the most was that, where Lady Yura failed to genuinely please Mr. Taisho, Kagome saw where she would have succeeded. Lady Yura was all too upfront: where she brushed the master’s shoulder, a subtle smirk would have proven more effective. Where she feigned bashfulness, a statement of distant confidence would have won. With the certainty of a woman, Kagome now knew what her heart had felt from the beginning: it was she who understood Mr. Taisho best. He was not to them what he was to her. They were akin to each other—more than any pair with so different experiences could be. Kagome was certain that she and Mr. Taisho shared more sympathy in a single passing glance than Yura could manage wrangling out of an entire evening.

And with all of this, Kagome remembered his words to her so many months ago: You’ve never felt jealousy, have you, Miss Higurashi? Of course you haven’t—for that would require that you experience love, first. When the day finally comes that you feel the prick, you’ll learn that one can only feel jealousy when the person usurping your love is truly better than you.

Kagome indeed did not feel jealous of Lady Yura. But the heartbreak was no easier. Perhaps if the woman had been a lady of grace and kindness, of wit and wisdom, Kagome would have been capable of blessing the union with all her heart. But it was the inferiority of Lady Yura—her inability to earnestly charm him—that kept Kagome discontented with her impending union with her master. Because he was going to marry her anyway.

Thus, she sat silently in her seat and watched as Mr. Taisho and Lady Yura, now dawning half-complete costumes relating to whatever their prompt was, enacted some sort of ceremony. The lady wore a white curtain about her body over her dress, and she draped a corner of it over her head and face like a veil. Mr. Taisho had restored his black coat to his person and added his top hat to the mix, and he filled his hands with the contents of a now-vacant flower vase and offered them to her on bended knee. 

“Proposal!” cried Ayame.

“Love,” said Kouga.

“Groom!” tried Kagura.

“Bride,” concluded Kouga.

Naraku sat absently, seemingly uninterested in the game.

The two actors signed that Kouga’s latest answer was the first word in the phrase. They then disappeared behind the makeshift curtain to prepare their second performance. In the interim, Kagura leaned over to Naraku from her place beside him for a curt whisper, most likely a rebuke for his lack of enthusiasm. He met her scowl with equal fervor. 

When Mr. Taisho and Lady Yura returned, their appearances had changed. Some Middle Eastern fabric had been retrieved and fashioned into scarves, which draped about the lady’s head and the master’s neck, respectively. The pair proceeded to mimic the Genesis meeting of Rebecca and Eliezer at the well—another allusion to matrimony. The only things missing were the camels.

“Bridewell,” said Kouga pridefully, and the players assented. Kagome smiled at Kouga’s obvious self-satisfaction, and she flicked her gaze to Mr. Taisho, who also seemed amused by his friend's joyous victory. Her master’s dark brows quirked, and his lips twitched into a subtle smirk. 

It was then the turn of the two gentlemen, who halfheartedly managed to perform “French Ballroom” with an abundance of proud jabs at the invoked inferior country. Ayame and Kagura somehow enacted “Aurora Borealis”, the revelation taking many hard minutes of struggle from all parties.

The game ended around midnight. Kagome could not have guessed the time, as she felt so far from sleepy that she wondered if she would get any rest at all after retiring. She kept picturing Yura in her blue dress, fingers pressed against Mr. Taisho’s shoulder as they conferred together during the other pairs’ performances. 

Kagome would not paint tonight, the mess seeming burdensome, but she could make do with the colored pencils that Lady Kaede had brought her alongside the paints. She began at her own desk, her draft sketches swirling and scraping on the first white page. But soon, the window above her space was abandoned by the moonlight. She had only one candle to spare, and though it had another couple of hours remaining, it was not enough. 

It was likely around one thirty. Everyone would be asleep, she assured herself. Kagome gathered her materials—the pages pressed between her arm and torso and the pencils clenched in her right fist—and gripped her candle. She departed from her room and turned down the westward hallway. She came upon her desired place—a large bay window that would bear moonlight for another hour or two. Its cushioned bench was large and would fit her easily. She settled herself, placed her candle on the sill, and continued her work. She completed the final version of the first piece—its flawless face, shining black hair, and pale blue dress filling the page masterfully—only thirty minutes after; she filed it beneath her new page and began working again. She would not use color for this one.

Kagome did not know how much time it took, but she was soon finished with her own portrait. She raised and compared the two—submitting to her purpose in drawing them. Lady Yura’s was titled: “An Accomplished Lady of Rank.” Her own, which brought a cringing curl to her lip and an emptiness to her chest, was titled: “A Governess, Disconnected, Poor, and Plain.” Kagome exhaled, satisfied with her efforts in humbling her recent illogic.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” inquired a voice from beyond the raised portraits.

She managed to smother her squeal of surprise. Lowering the papers and inhaling deeply, she admired Mr. Taisho’s curious face and ruffled sleeping clothes—his white shirt again open near the collar, exposing the top sliver of his muscled chest, and loose red pants—akin to his red coat, she noticed. As frightful as his appearance often was, there was a beauty to his ruggedness, to his long hair and wrinkled shirt, to his broad shoulders and strong legs. But she was forgetting herself—forgetting already the lesson to which she had dedicated the last few hours.  

She cleared her throat and brought her legs closer to herself. “Just drawing. I couldn’t sleep. And you?”

“I walk the grounds sometimes, when I’m restless. Such is part of my duties as lord here, anyway.”

“I see.”

A beat. “Can I look at them? Your drawings.”

Kagome swallowed hard, panic swelling in her chest. “I don’t know…”

Her hesitance brought a challenging look to his face. “Come on, where’s the harm? Have you made something horrible? Intimate, perhaps?”

“All my works are intimate.”

“Yes, but none have been so much so that you’ve hidden them from me before.”

“And how would you know that?” she shot back. “If I’m hiding some, by necessity you would know nothing about them.”

His smile was wolfish. “Ah. An admission?”

Kagome scowled. “A criticism of logic.”

Air left his nose in a puff. “Do you mind if I light a cigar? You’ve your creature comforts; I’d like my own.”

“I don’t mind,” she said.

He sat himself on the other side of the bench, situating his legs so that they mirrored hers. Kagome suddenly felt bashful about her slipperless feet. He seemed to notice them simultaneously, and she slid them backwards to hide them somewhat under her night gown. He made no comment, himself having bare feet, opting instead to place his cigar between his lips and pull a match from his pocket. The movement jostled the sleeves of his shirt, and Kagome noticed a single thin bandage wrapped around his forearm—exactly where he had been burned. Kagome would have asked him how it was possible that he had not fully healed after so many weeks, but the words would not form. The match’s fire erupted passionately when it scratched against his flint, then soothed to a subtle flicker. Once its duty was fulfilled, Mr. Taisho snuffed the flame. The first ring of smoke obscured his piercing gaze like a ghostly curtain.

Kagome peaked back down at the portraits in her lap. She pulled Yura’s out from beneath her own and studied it. What would be its effect on her master? The curiosity came upon her like a muse. “I don’t mind if you see this one,” she said finally, pulling it out and handing it to him.

He looked surprised at her acquiescence, his golden eyes flicking down to the paper only after he was assured by the certainty on her face. A moment passed before he spoke. “A beautiful picture of Lady Yura. You’ve captured her essence, certainly.”

Her toes curled beneath her dress. “But do you like it?”

His eyes flicked up at hers for only a second, a strange lilt in his brow forming at her inquiry. “As well as I like the person whom it depicts.”

Kagome puzzled at the riddle. She didn’t dare question his meaning further with words; instead, she felt a sudden courage unfolding in her ribs. “If I show you the other one, would it receive a more detailed review?”

Inuyasha smiled, then released a puff of smoke from his pursed lips. “If you wish.”

Wordlessly, Kagome unsheathed the second page from her lap and handed it to him. His clawed fingers took hold.

The silence was unbearable. She bit her lip and shrunk down to hide herself between her shoulders and behind her knees. Her elbows dug into her ribs like a clamp.

When he looked up, the reproachful disappointment on his face made her feel her own adolescence more than she had in years. When he spoke, his voice was slow, calculated. “The one of Yura was nothing short of perfection. This one, on the other hand… I must withhold my praise.”

She could have thrown up. Averting her eyes to the window, she focused on the moon as it peaked and wove through wispy clouds. “Why?”

“Because this is the only work of yours I’ve seen that houses a lie.”

Her head whipped back to face him. His look was serious, if not a little irritated—probably mimicking her own. “And what lie is that?”

Inuyasha retained his harsh expression, but he leaned forward till his elbows draped over his knees. “You dishonor yourself.” He brought a hand to brush an orphaned lock of hair from her face, reminding her that this was the second time he’d seen it down. His voice quieted for their increased proximity. “Do you want to hear my criticisms in greater detail?”

Kagome felt her jaw clench. She remembered the purpose behind her two drawings, and she could not help but feel that he was spitting on her efforts of self-preservation. Her words were clipped. “You may find fault with it, but a piece cannot be criticized for reflecting an artist’s thoughts and feelings. Such is the nature of art.”

His eyes seared into her own despite their focus out the window. His voice carried a firmness that reminded her of a lost friend. “A romantic attitude. But while an artist may claim immunity to mechanical criticism for such reasons, they cannot claim immunity to criticism of the perceptions themselves that produced the piece. No one is ever immune to being critiqued for their thoughts and feelings. In fact, it is these things alone that are worth criticism. All else—social rank, familial history, physical characteristics…” he paused, finally succeeding in regaining her strangely watery gaze, “…are arbitrary. Wasn’t it you who said you cared far more about judging me for the characteristics of mine you couldn’t see?”

As if struck dumb, Kagome only nodded. He tilted the page to make it visible to her, and she relented, leaning forward to join his scrutiny.

He spoke slowly, “Here, you’ve intentionally emphasized the slightest trace of defect and neutered every point of expression that gives life and light to your countenance. You’ve drained your color, dulled your eyes. Your lips have been dried out. Your lashes thinned. I have not once seen this expression on your face; even now, as annoyed as you are with me, your cheeks are alive, your eyes large with lighted emotion. Your lips…” His gaze traced her physiognomy as he spoke. Reorienting himself at her eyes, he concluded, “And you’ve left something out.” 

When he didn’t elaborate, she bemoaned her curiosity and took the bait. “What have I forgotten?” Her voice sounded strange to her own ears.

His smile was half tender, half menacing. “Your wings.”

Kagome couldn’t help the tension-relieving laugh that escaped her upturned lips. Whatever he said about the color in her face, she was sure it was growing now. She folded her arms and situated her unburdened legs to cross beneath her. “My wings are retractable. I save their exhibition for times when they’re needed.”

He was pleased with her play, and he scooted forward to chase her, knees bent and closing in like a cage around her. “Oh? And what sort of times are these? I would love to see them one day.” His posture had him so forward that his face was a mere foot from hers, their lines of sight equal. The smell of his cigar, forgotten in his fingers, curled around her nose.

Kagome’s smile grew, but something in her words pierced her own heart. “Impossible. If I’ve unsheathed them, I’ve done so for flight. I’d be gone long before you could notice.”

His eyes carried a strange emotion. “And what of my traps? The invisible nets I’ve splayed out in the sky to catch runaway fairies?” At the word catch, he again intertwined his finger with a lock of her hair.

“You of all people should know that you cannot confine such creatures.”

“I said nothing of confining,” he began, leaning in even closer. Kagome watched his mouth intently, gaze locked on the points of his teeth past his lips. He continued with a whispered sardonic lilt, “I only wish to study one of God’s highest creations. After which, if she wishes to go, I’ll pack her bag myself out of good will. But only after appealing intently for her permanent residence, and sulking petulantly at my failure.”

Kagome was sure she’d turned scarlet now. She pushed his left knee with the tips of her fingers, breaking his cage. She ignored the rough intake of his breath at the contact. She cleared her throat and said, “I’m afraid I can script our play no further, Inuyasha. I was never one for theater.”

“Nor I,” he said with a grin, seemingly pleased at her using his name. His finger relinquished her strands. After a moment with no response from her, he added, “No more of this.” He dropped both papers back into her lap. “If you’re going to steal my supplies, you’ll be sure to not use them for blasphemy. I order you to fix it.”

“I’d much rather destroy and forget about them altogether, sir. Additionally, though I am your employee, I don’t see the propriety of such commands that have nothing to do with my employment as Shippo’s governess.”

If he noticed her jocular tone, he didn’t show it. “I’m not commanding you as an employer.”

Kagome’s mouth sealed shut. She waited for him to explain his meaning, but he never did, opting instead to kiss his cigar once more. His golden eyes had caught fire, their glow outshining that of the candle on the sill, whose flame flickered from the easy draft and made their shadows sway together. Scared of his elaboration should she invite it, Kagome decided that the late hour demanded her retirement, even if it meant ripping her away from this dreamlike exchange. “As you wish.”

She saw the irritation on his sharp features at her obvious self-censorship. But he let it go. He reclined to his original place leaning against the wall. “You’re tired. If you’ve any desire to sleep tonight, you must go this instant.”

If he meant it innocently, his frustrated expression and clenching fists did not help depict it. Kagome felt a ghostly finger trace up her spine at his gaze, which fought to force its way into the depths of her own to assess its secrets.

Gathering up her things, Kagome stood, holding her papers flush to her chest to hide her unbound breasts which had before been protected by her dress’s loose drape. “Goodnight, sir. You might consider trying to sleep again, as well.” 

“I’ll consider it,” he said, eyes flicking down to her bare feet and the lower half of her shins, now exposed by her night gown. 

Blushing bright, she bowed her head in goodbye. “Till morning,” she said.

[synodicsoma]

Fun body horror concept I wipped up for my fanfic (still in the works) when human Bill eventually pops up.

[lemonbalmgirl]

Been dealing with a lot of brain weasels this week (crappy mental health).

1. Roommate's dad has been back in the hospital, which obviously blows for a number of reasons. It also brings a certain level of stress to the house.

2. The lawn-care person who had been tending our house... hasn't been. Before figuring something else out, the landlord had Roommate's parents' lawn-care person come over to get things back down to a manageable level. That happened today and started when I was still in bed (I sleep late).

Because I became aware of it after they'd started, by herb bed that isn't in a raised bed...got completely weed-whacked. I hadn't done anything in the bed yet this year, but there was lavender, borage, and Japanese mugwort among the grass and I did kind of care about those. 🫤

3. Money is tight. I finally finished paying the months bills, but I'll be short on paying down the credit card that I put the phone & water bills on. But I also haven't been able to willpower myself to plasma this week, because of the brain weasels.

I just...fucking hate capitalism?

4. I think I've mentioned previously that there's probably rats in the ceiling somewhere? Well, pretty sure they're now ALSO hanging out on my side of the house, right under the laundry room & pantry, which are directly next to my bedroom.

I've been woken up by gnawing (I think?) at around 7 am, basically every day this week. Cute Girlfriend was around to hear it on Wednesday. Originally, I thought it was incessant clawing of the scratching post by the cats, but you can hear/feel it coming from under the floor in the laundry room. 😬

I was annoyed enough the other day that I tried to record the noise. I tried to talk to Roommate about it, but she basically dismissed my concerns - apparently when a plumber was under the deck the other week to fix the water line to the hose, he noted that there were multiple rat holes on the house's facade. (I'm so glad no one told me about this when it was noticed. 🙄)

I texted the landlord this morning, separately from the text chain that includes Roommate, basically saying what I just wrote, and also that I'd been semi-seriously wondering what to do if a rat suddenly appeared inside my house.

I guess it's so frustrating because the noise doesn't happen when/where Roommate would notice it. And maybe she thinks I'm crying wolf, given neither she nor the landlord have heard or found evidence of anything in the ceiling.

Anyway, kind of in a hate everything mood this week. Hoping my brain meds will kick in before I head to monthly craft group in a couple hours. 🫠

[ahungeringknife]

Find the word tag

tagged by @owlsandwich

my words are: journey, metal, cloud and walk

Journey

“That’s a way better idea than what I had,” Wolf said. Somehow Shin had a feeling she was just going to carry it. Why was he into her again? The Ghosts leap frogging the Celebrant head made it go quick. The most difficult part of the journey back to the portal was just the impossible jumps over the void. With the Celebrant gone the corrupted Fallen and Hive of Xivu Arath’s spawn had vacated from the area or hadn’t been able to maintain existence inside the Ascendant Realm in the case of the Fallen. They’d also left a trail of bodies in their wake hunting the damn thing too

Metal

It was late morning when Spayar had finished helping his mother weed the garden. The autumn rains of the Meltong Basin meant the plants rarely needed watering but always needed weeding. She’d pulled him into service because his metal magic made it quicker for him to cut or dig up weeds. Or that was what she said. He knew she just liked the help and he was an able bodied young man. It hadn’t been raining while they’d been working but Spayar was still drenched in sweat. He wanted to take a bath before going out for the day and his mother promised him a delicious lunch before he left for whatever he was going to do.

Cloud

“Could be disconnect from the Light made him forgetful,” Crow said. “I dunno,” Alshain said. “We’ve all been disconnected from the Light. You know it’s foggy,” Shin said. “Makes you do things-“ he paused as he saw Gasknir trying to sneak off. He whistled again, startling the child and he scuttled back over to the war table. “Clouds your judgement. I mean didn’t the dumb ass try and fight the High Celebrant without a Ghost?” “Among other things,” Crow said and rubbed his forehead.

Walk

Spayar laughed and pulled away from her, beckoning her to follow him. She walked with him. “I was helping in the garden,” he explained. “Ah so some actual manual labor you couldn’t talk your way out of,” she elbowed him playfully. “My mother doesn’t take no for an answer,” Spayar agreed. “Is this social?” “I’m afraid not.”

tagging: @asablehart @sentfromwolves @consifs @tabswrites

Your words are: lips, touch, face, warm (show me your romance shit)

[avidbeader]

First Sentence Tag Game

Tagged by @ursae-minoris-world - thank you so much!

Rules: post the first sentence of your last ten fics. If you haven't written ten fics, share as many first-sentences as you have.

Severance (Voltron, sheith)

“Liberty.”

Filling the Empty Places (Voltron, sheith)

The sun warmed his back as Shiro worked, patiently pulling weeds away from the tender shoots that poked through the soil, investigating the early spring.

Going My Way? (Voltron, sheith)

Five feet to the left. Five fucking feet to the left.

Our Story (Voltron, sheith)

“Uh oh.”

The Best One Yet (Voltron, sheith)

If nothing else, the twenty-first century is the shiniest and most colorful time he’s lived in so far.

Symbiosis (Voltron, sheith)

The first couple of requests were reasonable.

Skydancer (Voltron, gen but could end up sheith)

A tiny voice in the back of his head told him not to do this, even as he cut communications with the castle.

The Bond Between Us Remains Ever Strong (Voltron, sheith)

Shiro supposes the comms officer can be forgiven for shrieking high enough to crack a wine glass when Keith’s wolf teleports onto the Atlas bridge, knocking Shiro flat.

The Sweetheart Bet (Voltron, sheith)

James Griffin shouldn’t be bored.

A Time to Celebrate (Voltron, allurance and sheith)

Allura nibbled at her slice of cake, watching as Keith unwrapped a box, opened it, and immediately protested.

I'm tagging anyone who sees this and wants to participate, because I’m not sure who’s still actively writing in other fandoms among the people I follow.

--

Note: my new and WIP fics are currently locked on AO3 to registered users only to avoid AI scrapping. I'm sorry, I wasn't happy to do that. If anyone needs an invite to be able to read, you're welcome to dm me!

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@one-time-i-dreamt

people sometimes dont read the URL and think that the dream is something that actually happened. creates confusion and the funny

[lovelessbachelor]

ok. im having very, very evil thoughts about my OCs. like my original OCs. so if this doesnt make sense, this is why.

What if the Gods were the reason the Puzzlepeaces survived their various traumas?

Now, when i initially thought this up i was thinking of applying this to specifically Luna, my main character and The Childrens Disciple (unwilling. being a Disciple is never a choice), but im thinking of incorporating this into some of the other Peaces backstories, too.

(mainly the more...Displacing ones? Phos, Sulfina, Ray, Nora, maybe even Octavious and Pietro. Who knows)

See, heres the deal with Luna :

(TW: Bullying, Discrimination, Species-ism (is there a proper word?), Arson, Childhood Trauma obviously, so many fucking allegories. tell me if i need to add more)

Is this the first time i talk about her in depth? yes.

Luna Claw, her birth name, is born into a small Wolf family comprising of her father, his parents, and her human mother.

Due to this is she is a hybrid, which would be fine if she wasn't living in a predominantly human area.

For most of history, anthros and humans have lived together peacefully, no real conflict has ever risen as they have evolved and ruled the earth hand in hand.

Until about the early 1800's. This sparks a shift in the perception of non-human humanoids among the homosapien population.

It's not entirely clear what started this, maybe tension between perceptions of power or influence...

Anything, really, but what should be noted is that the humans vastly outnumber the rest of the people, and thus quickly overwhelm the people fighting back against this discrimination. Villages are burned to the ground and castles and manors are set ablaze (lore relavant...).

Fire becomes a common thing to use to rid of the unwanted to this day.

As a result of this, everybody but humans are oppressed. Even actual humans with non-homosapian traits. Things like witches, wizards, sorcerers. Magic users in general. Ghosts, created that way out of nature or tragedy. Vampires, mermaids, anthros, the like.

So where does this place my little girl?

Well, she grows up in this small little forest cloaked community, yes? This just so happens to also be the base of operations of a corporation. A certain Petnos.

Petnos isn't a government run corporation, nor is it's operations very legal as soon as you look underneath the charitable donations to organisations that notably only support humans.

But the government sure isn't stopping it. Nor is it asking what the hell the flamethrowers and gas masks are doing under company expenses.

Because of proximity, Petnos weeds it's way into the roots of the community, posters and fliers and 'helpful' tips to 'protect your family'. The fact that non-humans are few and far between - and suspiciously turning to ashes - doesn't help either.

This turns the community against the family, Lunas parents have trouble finding work, they're all frequently harassed, and Luna is bullied awfully by her peers.

The bullying was always some bullshit regergated from Petnos->Guardian->Child.

It took an awful lot to even get through the day, let alone do work at school. They didn't have any of those specially designed pencils so Lulus little paws could grip better on her pencils, so her teachers would always scold her for her messy handwriting and that she never could write as much as the other (human) children.

They'd step on her tail, growl at her, trip her up, anything you could imagine a brainwashed kid would do to get the approval of a bigoted and similarly brainwashed parent.

It was awful. But at least Luna had her family.

But hey, remember when I mentioned those arsons?

Lunas home & her entire living family burn to the ground while she is on her way home from school.

Like normal, she is bullied and harassed on her way there, but today they are particularly vicious. They take up more of her time than usual, having had to chase them down multiple times to get her stuff back, take winding paths. The like.

The Petnos employees assume Luna is at home when the house is ablaze. They track every households activities before they carry out their operations, they're professionals. They've been doing this for centuries.

But Luna just happened to run late. And so she was spared. Or, not really. As soon as she is seen by the employees, she runs into the forest and runs and runs and runs.

They follow her but presume she is dead, or will die from exposure in due time.

I don't know how she didn't. Maybe the Sun and Moonchild had something to do with it.

Maybe the Sun and Moonchild had something to do with Lunas 'random' lateness, maybe they, with their influence, did something to extend the child's berating, to make her run just late enough to spare her life.

Is that even mercy? Is that not still torture? If they're so all powerful, why not stop it all at the root? Have it so the shift never happened, Petnos is never founded, Lunas family is alive?

Did they traumatise her on purpose to plant the seeds of rebellion in her young mind? To fill her with helplessness and then rage at the injustice, only to anoint her as a Disciple to go through with her pipedreams of peace?

She's just a damn child. She wants to be a scientist, not a revolutionary. She's only 17 when the story starts, and she loses her family at 6. Six years old.

Yes, she gets taken in, adopted by Loretta and Eryl, yes, she gains a sister, a healthier upbringing in another place. With people like her that like her.

But that was all though the God's help.

Not directly the Moon and Sun, but of Nature, guiding the little one to dry places to rest, safe berries to eat, clean water to drink. It is because of specially curated, divine circumstance that Luna is even alive to start a revolution.

To march up to Calice and deck her in the face, or kiss her girlfriend on the cheek, or cwtch her best friend, or relax with her sister.

She is essentially indebted to them. Do they take advantage of that? Maybe. Are the Gods even good? One would hope so.

Disciples are always a good thing. Always liberating and overcoming. Does it matter if it's unwilling if you're forced into such goodness?

You should be honoured, really, to have such frequent encounters with THE Gods. Does it matter if you never wanted this in the first place?

You don't have a choice.

[atangledfate]

💫 ― an obscure memory. To Whisper

WARNING! THIS IS EXTREAMLY DARK! READ AT YOUR OWN PERIL!

The soft white snow fell down from the sky, as the small hidden military outpost became alive for the morning revelry. The children marched from there barracks each dressed in a GUN training uniform. Each one was as old as he was, maybe younger and yet the biting cold made it hard for her to focus. Her teeth chattered from the cold and she already missed her bed back in the tribe.

A Tall grew Wolf walked among the new recruits, a patch over one eye and a greying fur marring his body. He stopped giving them a long stare before he stopped in front of the group to address them.

" Today i'll be weeding out the weak from the strong... You'll be doing a series of tests to gauge your combat potential... those who fail... will be dismissed from the program... "

One of the younger children spoke up with a sniffle as he was cold, missed his family and just wanted to go home.

" Please... Mr. i wanna see my mom and dad... i wanna go home..."

The wolf turned to the sobbing child and and smiled at him with a big wolfish grin, as he leaned toward the boy his eyes fierce as he oozed killer intent.

" If that's what you want Son... "

He pulled out his pistol and fired shooting the protesting child in the forehead and lowering his pistol back down to his side. He turned toward the other children and had that same wolfish smile.

" Anyone else want to go home? listen to me my little ones! your parents are dead... your family is dead! you are here because nobody wanted you... or because there was no home to return to... Eggman destroyed it, Eggman is the enemy... if you want to be angry! then blame him... if you want to hate me... go ahead! BUT by the time you leave this camp ...you will be soldiers! and you will make me proud or die trying! now... let's begin! "

=========================================

Whisper shot out of bed with a silent scream! That memory haunting her, clinging to her, it was all she could see in her head! she was in a panic! as she struggled to breath!

why could she never forget that place... why could she never forget him...