#➳ （shift: wolfdog）

[barkingwolfdog]

any other canine therians live away from town n when something goes bump in the night you are ALERT and AWAKE my ears are SWIVELING and my hackles are RAISED WHERE’S THE DANGER WHERE IS IT

[dogywoofer996]

Woof, woof!

Geared up and posting it for the first time!!

Swiss Shepherd wolfpup, reporting for duty! Aroof!

NOTE: THIS DOG IS SHY AND ANXIOUS BUT EXTREMELY FRIENDLY. please interact.

[whitewolfstracks]

I just realised I'm grieving. Autumn is my favourite part of the year. And I knew it's not gonna be so easy with diagnosis and getting the right treatment. But it will be November before I even know the test results. And then it will probably take time for my joints to heal.

So, no walks in the colourful landscape, no getting on all fours and feeling the damp earth, no inhaling the smell of rotting leaves. No running in the rain. No quadrobics among the dying leaves. I feel robbed of something. Something that fills up my soul.

I have already lost the summer to overheating, avoiding forests because of insects. Usually, I would be hiking. But I made my peace with that. It's too hot, better to stay inside and rest.

But not autumn. Please, not autumn. Please, don't take this away from me...

[w0lfdogz]

how i feel when i get to do research on my theriotype for school

[theatrekidenergy]

Any other therians (specifically wolf/wolfdog or werewolf kins such as myself) been REALLY shifty today? I’ve been shifting nearly all day and had no clue why until I saw that today is a full moon, I’ve been feeling super alert and awake all day and am getting super energetic and hyper aware the later it gets into the night (it’s currently 7:18pm 09/28/23 as of writing this) and I’m getting super shifty. This happening to any other therians (wolf or not) today and on full moons?

[bluescreenies]

hellooo!! Sorry if this is too personal, it's 100% fine if you don't wanna answer :)

Have you ever had a shift where you had pups, or wanted them, or just generally missed the pack setting of a huge family that you raised yourself?

(I ask because I'm trying to get a scope of canine therians that are like me, so again: absolutely 0 pressure to answer!! I'm so sorry if this is an uncomfortable question for you :,))

ooh, no worries anon! this is a great question!! /gen

In complete honesty, during some (mental) shifts I have experienced, I have yearned for wanting pups to take care of. I also yearn for a pack that I raised myself; it just seems like such a beautiful thing... :)

So yes, anon, I have experienced that! :3

[whitewolfstracks]

Autumn makes me very shifty. I hated this summer because I was overheating, didn't feel like myself at all, and had to avoid even going to the forests because of the number of insects. And then it started to get colder, the smell in the air changed and it was like coming home. Snow also triggers shifts in me, I get urges to pull a sledge. Must be the dog part of my wolf-dog makeup. I suspect Siberian husky, being a (Siberian) Tundra wolf it would make sense. I get more urges to find a mate in the spring. And, concerning the weather, there's something about rain, mist, cloudy days, and thunder that also affects me a lot. Can't say why tho.

I think that alterhumans/nonhumans don't talk too much about seasonal shifts as someone with many kintypes.

for me, weather or a season really affect my experience.

there are types of shifts/or feelings in general I only experience when it's raining, or the ones that only appear when it's snow outside... for example, it's most likely for me to feel more birdy in colder weather, since wearing baggy chlothes/coats make me feel like they're my feathers, and its more likely for me to feel more dragon-y in warm sunlight, where I can feel my scales while sunbathing

in general, when seasons change, so does my experience with everything... sometimes the weather doesn't make me feel like one of my kintypes at all, and sometimes it's the exact opposite

I noticed it recently, in the last 6 months I couldn't really feel my fox side at all, at the point that made me question my identity, i finally figured out that's cause I mostly experience fox-like shifts in autumn-winter!

let me know your experience with seasons/weather!

~Birdie/Hera

[planet-dusk]

☆ making bad decisions for you ∘ b.c

chan fucked up, and now he's left to deal with the consequences. how does one find someone to help their sweet pup through her heat on such short notice? the first step: call jisung. the second step: stay on the straight path. he has this under control. at least that's what chan thinks, until you throw him a curve...

─── ☆ pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

─── ☆ length: 2.3k

─── ☆ warnings: puppy hybrid!reader, sub!reader, perv!chan, big dick chan, pillow humping, corruption, bondage, unprotected sex, breeding (like a lot), dirty talk, praise, pet names: baby, pup, puppy

─── ☆ note: 18+ minors dni. the characters don’t represent real idols; this is fiction for entertainment purposes only. fictional smut is not a reflection of real life ! always communicate with your partner and practice consensual and safe sex ‹33

© planet-dusk do not copy, translate or repost my works.

Chan’s in over his head.

He knew this day would come. He should’ve been prepared. But he’s been so busy lately, and he didn’t keep track of your cycle — fuck, if only he could physically beat himself up for being the world’s shittiest owner. 

And of course he can’t find the informational flyers anywhere, and he doesn’t trust the internet, the advice varying so wildly he isn’t sure what to believe. He could call the shelter, but he doesn’t want them to find out he messed up. What if they take you away from him? 

So he calls the only experienced person he can think of: Jisung. 

“I really don’t know what to do, Han, fuck! Please help…”

“Take a deep breath, it’ll be alright. It’s not your fault there’s a suppressant shortage. You sure you don’t want to…?” 

“I can’t, it’s… it’s wrong,” Chan feels the panic rising in his chest again. He takes another gulp of air to calm his shaky nerves. 

“Fine, okay, it was just a suggestion! No need to yell at me, lemme look into it. I'll find a stud for her and come over as soon as my shift’s done, okay? You try to stay calm in the meantime and do exactly as I've told you to. Can you do that?”

“I’m sorry, it’s - I’m a mess, I should’ve seen it coming, but thank you, Ji. Thank you. I owe you one.”

“No worries, bro. Good luck. Call me if you need any help.”

The call disconnects and Chan is left standing alone in the empty bathroom, his heart galloping in his chest. He failed you. But he needs to be there for you now. He's not proud of what he’s about to do, but you’ll understand. He has no other choice. When this is all over you’ll understand. Please, you have to…

“Please forgive me, Y/N,” he whispers and unlocks the door.

As soon as he steps out of the bathroom Chan’s thrown off balance by your body slamming into his. “Channie, sir, please,” you whimper, pressing yourself tighter against his side and wrapping your arms around his neck. Chan feels a blush rise to his cheeks and turns his head away, swallowing harshly. 

“Let’s go to your bedroom, pup.” 

You yelp excitedly and dart off, throwing yourself on the bed. Your tail wags against the sheets and Chan can’t help but smile. When he was a little kid he always thought he’d get a wolfdog hybrid, or a big husky, but then he saw you at the shelter: a little cream coloured mutt with soft ears and a fluffy tail, and he knew he had to bring you home. 

You’re watching him rummage through his nightstand, head cocked and ears pointed. “‘t hurts, Channie, please hurry,” you roll on your back and stay there, skirt sliding down your thighs and almost exposing your panties. Chan coughs. 

“I know, baby, Channie’s here to make it all better,” he mumbles and fishes a pair of padded handcuffs out of the drawer. “Just give me your hands, okay?”

You give him a puzzled look but comply, letting him attach the cuffs to the headboard. “I'm so sorry, puppy, I'm sorry,” he whispers, avoiding your eyes. 

Then he turns around and hurries out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft but resolute thud. 

Your frustrated howls are loud enough to reach the living room and he flinches. Every noise you make pierces his soul and adds to the pool of guilt in his gut. He had to do it, Jisung told him so — keep her safe, tie her up somewhere, otherwise she might hurt herself. It’s for her best interest. 

Chan knows, but why does it hurt him so much? He checks his phone, looking for a distraction. Two hours left until Jisung’s shift is done. Surely he can find a stud before the end of the day, right? Jisung knows so many people. He said everything would be fine. Chan just has to relax and trust him.

He takes another deep breath and turns on the tv, mindlessly going through the channels. He checks his phone again. 5 minutes have passed. Time’s never felt this slow. 

Eventually he settles on a documentary about tiger hybrids. He almost succeeds in focusing on the (terrible but entertaining) storyline when he notices your howls have changed into softer, breathier sounds. They almost sound like… moans? Chan thinks. He feels his cock stir. He shifts on the couch and stares at the tv, but the screen is a blur and he doesn’t hear a word the voiceover says. 

The noises continue and Chan grows more restless. How…? He looks at his phone again. 90 minutes left. 

With growing curiosity, Chan’s feet lead him to your bedroom almost involuntarily. Your noises have grown softer, little moans and whimpers drifting through the door. With a quiet click he opens it and peeks his head around.

You’re sitting on the bed, awkwardly positioned with your hands still chained to the headboard. Somehow you’ve managed to maneuver one of the pillows between your spread knees. You’re grinding down on it, fluffy tail causing your skirt to ride up. From his position in the doorframe Chan catches a glimpse of your white panties hugging your ass. 

The noises you’re making range from whiny to plain frustrated, the friction not enough to satisfy you. When you bend over to try and find a better position, Chan sucks in a breath, cock swelling at the sight of your soaked panties. You’re so wet the gusset has become almost see through, clinging to the outline of your pussy. 

Chan shouldn’t be here. He should leave before you notice him, before it’s too late. He should go back to the living room, put on his headphones and wait for Jisung to arrive. Let him sort it out. Get you a handsome dog hybrid to help you through your heat. 

“Chan?” your voice is soft, halting his train of thought. “Please…” 

He’s not sure if it’s your broken plea or something else that compels him to move, but Chan steps into your room. Your tail starts to wag slowly and you drop to your elbows, presenting yourself to him. From this distance Chan can see the tantalizing curve where your thighs meet your ass, the spot he wants to lick and suck and tease…

“‘s okay, puppy, Channie’s here.” There’s still time to leave. But you’re looking back at him with your pretty eyes — how could he say no to his sweet pup? He wants to protect you. Keep you safe. Jisung and his stud be damned. 

“I’m so sorry I did this to you, Y/N. I panicked.”

His hand strokes your thigh and you sigh into his touch. “Don’t leave me again, Channie. Promise.”

Chan shakes his head. “It was a mistake, I promise, I’m here with you now pup. Let me help you.” 

You mewl when his fingers graze your clothed slit. “Sir, ‘s hurting, don’t make me wait any longer, need you to breed me now, please,” you trail off, grinding back against his hand. 

Normally Chan would take his time to explore your body, tease you until you’ve cum at least twice before he’d give you his cock. But he hears the urgency in your voice, your pained little whimpers as you tug at your restraints. 

And it’d be a lie to say he hasn’t fantasized about this before. Late at night in his own bedroom while he tried to muffle his moans, unsure of what your sensitive ears could pick up. 

Chan slides your panties down your thighs with shaky hands. Your pretty cunt’s all puffy and glossy with your slick and it drips down his fingers when he pushes two inside. 

Your reaction is instantaneous, a pleasant gasp as you arch your back for him. “Need more, need your cock, need it now,” you plead again. 

“You sure you can take it, puppy?”

Chan rolls his plush bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn’t want to hurt you. 

“‘Mmm don’t care, make it fit,” you pout and wag your tail for him, “Channie.”

He’ll never tire of hearing his name like this. A broken sound, filled with so much need it goes straight to his head. 

He chucks off his pants and his boxers, hard cock springing free and slapping against his abdomen. He slides the tip over your slit to wet it, holding your hips to keep you still. Then he sheathes himself in your dripping heat inch by inch, whispering soft praises into the air between you. 

“Just like that, puppy, don’t move. Gonna fill you up so good baby, let me take care of you.”

Chan knows he’s big, watches your pretty hole stretch to accommodate him. He groans at how wet and warm you feel. It’s even better than he imagined. When you shift forward on your knees he growls, “Where do you think you’re going, pup? I'm not even halfway in yet.”

He pushes in deeper, watches you arch your back even more. “Channie, so full,” you pant when he finally bottoms out, stilling for a moment to catch his breath. The sensation of your soft, velvety cunt around him is overwhelming all his senses. 

“Yeah? Is my puppy nice and full?”

“Wanted - wanted this for so long,” you say and his heart makes a little leap. He knows it’s just your heat-clouded mind talking, the hormones making you more susceptible to his presence. But there’s a small part of him that dares to hope you’re speaking the truth. 

“Yah - wanted my sir, my Channie,” you nod when he starts moving, holding tight onto the handcuff’s chain. He briefly considers removing them, but you don’t seem to mind being tied up like this, pushing back on his cock like the neediest little thing he’s ever seen.

My Channie.

“I want you too, Y/N,” he groans and you hum at the sound of your name. “Can’t stay away from you - my pretty baby… knew it from the day I brought you home.”

You’re moaning every time his hips meet yours, soft uh-uh-uh’s like music to his ears. Your pussy is gushing around his length, and Chan’s not sure how long he’s going to last if you keep clenching down on him like this.

“Fuck, puppy - you’re hugging my cock so tight,” he lands a playful smack on your ass, “want me to breed you that bad, huh? Want me to stuff you full with pups?”

He tilts your hips to reach even deeper, fat cock slamming into you with force. You’re slumping against the mattress and he hovers over your back to nip at your ear, eliciting another moan from you. The soft fur of your tail tickles his abs but Chan is too focused on the erratic pulsing of your walls around him. 

“Are you going to cum for me, baby? I can feel you’re close, just let go. I’ve got you. Channie’s got you. My good girl.”

You sob and he feels your release gush around him, fucking you through your high with renewed vigor. You’re a blabbering mess, unable to form words except for “Channie,” “please,” and “fuck.” 

“Did my puppy lose her tongue?” He grins. “Getting all dumb on my cock after one orgasm, and I haven’t even bred you yet, baby.”

“Please…need it,” you whisper into the sheets, “need you to cum inside, please, sir.”

Even with his weight pressing you into the bed you’re still angling your hips up more, and Chan buries his face into the crook of your neck. You smell so good, like vanilla and the heady scent of sex. “I always keep my promise, pup, I’m going to breed you so well you’ll feel it dripping out of you for the next three days.”

You turn your head just enough to catch his gaze, your eyes so glossy and fucked-out Chan loses all composure. He ruts into you one, two more times before ropes of thick cum paint your inner walls and tumble you headfirst into another orgasm. 

His thighs are shaking, your cunt milking him of every last drop until he’s a panting mess on top of you. For a moment the two of you lay still, breathing heavily, until Chan realizes you’re still chained to the bed. He pulls out and you mumble something when you feel his cum drip out of you, rubbing your thighs together. 

Chan unclasps the handcuffs and kisses your wrists, hugs you close and captures your lips with his own. They’re so soft, needy little sounds already escaping you again as you rut against his thigh. “Need more, Channie.” 

“Insatiable little thing,” he grins and traces your puffy cunt with his fingers. “Can’t get enough, can you?” 

He slips one finger in your sensitive hole just as the doorbell rings. You look up in surprise, eyes wide and ears darting in all directions. 

Chan kisses you again. “Ignore the bell, pup. I’m not going anywhere. Made a promise, remember? Need to breed you nice and round. Maybe make you beg a little more for it,” he chuckles, “let me see how needy you can really get.” 

You’re grinding down on his thigh now and Chan doesn’t care how long he has to stay here with you, he’ll give you whatever you want. He’ll spend days holed up inside your nest if he has to. 

You grab his shirt and pull him closer, and the blaring sound of his ringtone rips him out of his reverie. 

He rolls over with a groan and hits the green button, cutting off Jisung’s voice. “It’s already taken care of, Ji. Thank you.”

“Wha —? You sly dog!”

Chan throws his phone into a corner and rolls you onto your back, slotting himself between your thighs with a smile. “Don’t worry, pup. I won’t let anyone else touch you ever again.”

© planet-dusk do not copy, translate or repost my works.

[livinglycan]

☽ ~ The sand shifts beneath your paws and the scent of salt fills your nostrils ~ 𓃥

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ "𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚍, 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍" ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Ello!! You can call me Theo, Ari, or Feng! I'm transmasc and my pronouns are He/It/That + any dog or (were)wolf related neos! I'm (feralromantic) aroallo, MLM/Gay, wolfdog freak, and objectum.

Feralromantic and wolfdog freak are both coins termed by me!

I am a werewolf. This is not a kintype, I am physically a werewolf. I’ll still post under the werewolfkin tags because I feel like werewolfkin can relate to my experience. I am a therian and otherkin but stuff relating to that can be found on my main blog, @confused-canid where I interact from. I appreciate the use of tone tags for me!

This blog is for me posting about me being a werewolf, or werewolf related things! This could be my selfships, art writings, etc.! My tags are: #Running with the wolves🐺 - Talking with my mutuals! #Howling at the moon🌕 - Original posts that are text! #Weird little claw marks✏️ - My art! This will usually be paired with text so it will be tagged as #Howling at the moon🌕 and as #Weird little claw marks✏️! #yapping back🌙 - Responding to asks! #Tasty posts🦴 - reblogs relating to this blog but not therian related or my own (usually used for posts I’m saving for later), #Rabies🥩 - Gore, animal death, angry stuff, and other things that make me hungry, #Home🌲 - Heart-home (Vancouver island) stuff, #Mother🏹🦌 - Artemis worship related things, #Little wolf🐾 - Agere posts (rbs and original ones

Theriotypes:

~Harlequin great Dane

~Bottlenose dolphin

~Western coyote (unsure what type but one that lives in or near Kansas, prairie dwelling)

~Leopard seal

~ Rocky mountain Bighorn sheep

Kintypes:

~Merfolk

~Two legged dragon

~Marble fox Kitsune

Others:

~Equidae clado hearted

~Changeling holothere

~ Lemon shork (Kaiju paradise)

~ Like slime pup (Kaiju paradise)

~ Nightcrawler (Kaiju paradise)

~ Chocolate sprinklekit (Kaiju paradise)

~ Lockheed SR-71 blackbird

DNI: Basic DNI criteria+, NSFW blog, make a lot of nsfw posts about werewolves, Radqueer, RCTA, Proship or any variants of it, Demonizes cluster B disorders or delusions/are an ableist, Zionist/pro Israel (Get tf off my blog. Seriously. Like, leave right now. I will maul you.), antikin, fakeclaimer, anti researched self diagnoses, pro Trump, pro Biden (Trump is bad and so is Joe. He is directly funding the genocide against Palestine.), anti ACAB, Pro contact for harmful paras (People w/ big 3 and other harmful (if acted on) paras can interact but don’t go against the rest of my DNI. I hope you can recover, I'm proud of you. You can do this.), anti atypical dysphoria, or are here to debate me about my identity.

Anyways, bye creatures!

Last updated July Fith 2024

I live in the central daylight timezone / CT, in case you want to talk

a lot of this was just to show off these dividers

^silly little werewolf gif collage ^^

[wolfiegal]

Something funny happens to me when I get a mental shift. I feel more masculine. In other terms, I feel like a male. Like, I have a massive maternal instinct in general, when I see kids I'm just there like 'it's a pup oh my gawdddd'. Then when I shift, I feel suddenly Fatherly, the need to protect, to play, to love.

It's weird as hell, but it makes a lot of things click. What would you call this? Can somebody please tell me?

Im just a wolfdog who is a guy but then when I'm not shifting I'm a girl. Noice👍😭

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 1: Hidden Devotions

Summary: The impending arrival of guests in the Dreadfort has everyone in the castle on edge.

Word Count: 5,187

Warnings: A few slight allusions to abuse.

Notes: Heavenerys and Amos belong to @call-sign-shark.

Previous Part • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 1: Drawn to the Flame

The snow crunched under her boots, wet, thick flakes fluttering down from the sky to join the fine dusting already on the ground. Trees, naked of leaves, stretched their skeletal, twisting branches towards a sky that was almost entirely white with clouds. 

Lucilla Bolton shifted her weight from one foot to another, eyes cast out to across the half frozen lake she crouched on the embankment of. Her crossbow, a weighty, ornate weapon carved with intricate, swirling designs and the sigil of her house, rested heavily in her hands. 

Across the lake, a little red fox hopped out from the thick brush and trees that surrounded the lake on every side. It’s nose pointed to the ground, scrounging for food. Lucy watched it, the fox’s fur as red as her hair where it was coiled into a braid tossed over one shoulder. 

A sound must have alerted the fox, its ears pricking up before it went darting back into a nearby bush.

A cold nose nudged at Lucy’s elbow. Glancing over, she managed a weak smile to the large, black wolfdog currently nuzzling at her, his fluffy tail wagging from side to side when she raised her hand to stroke the top of his huge head. 

“I know,” she murmured, scratching him behind the ears. “Good boy, Shadow.”

His tail wagging increased. 

With a sigh, Lucy cast one last look across the lake. It would be a while, she expected, until she would have time enough to slip away and be on her own like this again. Not with all the non-stop celebrations that were about to occur over the next few days.

Tipping her head back, she battled to find the glimmer of the sun through the thick covering of clouds. She ought to be getting back. Her father would have a fit if she was late. 

“Come along, children,” she said to Shadow and the other two wolfdogs playing nearby. They fell into step beside her dutifully when she rose, walking to where her horse was tied to a nearby tree.

“No,” she pushed Lila’s head away from where she was sniffing at one of the rabbits Lucy had caught where they were dangling from the saddle. “You’ve already had one.”

Lila dipped her head obediently, white coat puffed up against the cold. Lucy gave a fond little ruffle to her head, and went to untie the rope securing the horse to the tree.

Unloading her crossbow and strapping it to her back, she then pulled herself up onto the back of the chestnut mare. Sin snorted once, sides flexing against Lucy’s legs, and set off at a steady canter through the woods, the wolfdogs flanking them on either side. 

She weaved through the trees until they came to the bank of the Weeping Water. On the opposite side of the river, a few men were ice fishing in the freezing depths. 

She followed along the bank until the Dreadfort came into view. A huge, strong fortress, her home was comprised of thick, grey stone walls. Massive towers reached for the sky. Triangular merlons pointed upwards like sharp teeth. 

Exiting the woods, Lucy pushed Sin into a fierce gallop across the massive field that sprawled between the trees and the castle. Her dogs raced alongside the horse, tongues lolling excitedly from their mouths. Freezing wind whipped at her face and hair, turning her cheeks pink from the chill.

She rode through the gates and into the courtyard, drawing Sin to a stop. There was a significant amount of bustle going on in the yard. Servants, stable boys, and armored guards running around to hastily complete the final preparations that needed to take place before their guests arrived.

“Did you have a good ride, my lady?” the stable master asked. She dismounted with a fluid motion and passed him the reins.

“Yes, thank you.” She gestured to her catch still dangling from the saddle. “Make sure that those rabbits are sent to the kitchens, will you?” 

“Of course.”

“And let my handmaids know that I’m back and would like a bath prepared for when I come upstairs.”

“Right away, my lady.”

She handed off her crossbow to an armorer, clicking her tongue to have her dogs converging in close to her.

“Do you want the dogs taken into the kennels, Lady Lucilla?” the kennel master asked when she passed him by where he was trying to wrangle Amos’s hounds into the various kennels located around the yard.  

“No, I’ll just keep them in my room during the festivities, thank you.” Her dogs and Amos’s hounds didn’t always get along. And the wolfdogs had a proclivity for howling when they decided that they wanted attention or weren’t pleased with their lodgings. 

She pulled her black leather gloves from her hands, keeping them clutched in one hand as she walked through the entrance leading into the castle. 

“Where have you been?”

She sighed heavily at the all too familiar voice.

“The woods,” she replied simply, continuing her walk towards the staircase. 

“And you’re only just getting back now?” Elyas stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop with a huff of annoyance.

He was tall. Likely to be the tallest of all her brothers–despite being the second youngest–when he was done growing. Lucy already had to crane her head up to look at him. They shared the red hair inherited from their Tully mother, but where Lucy’s eyes were a dark, gentle brown, Elyas’s were as cold as the snow outside. Just like their father’s. 

“I wanted to take the dogs out before they have to be cooped up for the rest of the day.” She picked at the sleeve of her riding jacket. “I already finished all the duties Mum and Aunt Lorelei gave me this morning. I just have to bathe and get changed.”

Elyas scowled, likely having hoped that he’d caught her skirting her responsibilities so he could get her into trouble. “Amos will kill you if you’re not ready when they arrive.”

“I have plenty of time.” She side-stepped him. “But I’ll have less if you keep chattering to me. Go find William wherever he is pulling the legs off insects or torturing mice if you need someone to go bother.”

He didn’t follow her up the rest of the stairs, thankfully. Annoying brat. Only four and ten, and yet he already thought that he had the authority to boss her around.  

When she opened the door to her chambers, it was to find her handmaids already present, finishing preparing the bath she had ordered, and a fire already crackling in the hearth. The dogs went to sprawl out on the fur rugs in front of it. 

“Thank you,” Lucy told Beatrice after she’d taken her riding jacket from her. 

“Is it snowing terribly outside, my lady?” Jill asked, finishing with the bath and approaching them. 

“A little. But they say it’s supposed to clear before our guests arrive.” She sat down to unlace her shoes, waving Beatrice and Jill away when they moved to help. “I can manage the rest. Go find my mother and tell her I’ll be ready to get dressed in ten minutes or so.” 

The girls nodded, and quickly departed. 

Lucy finished disrobing, tossing her riding clothes haphazardly over the back of a chair by the fire, and sinking into the steaming bathwater. A soft sigh of relief left her lips at the warmth enveloping her, head tipping back against the rim.

She’d always maintained that she was not built for such cold climates. Even when wrapped up in layers of the finest, warmest fabrics, she often caught herself getting chilled.

Her eyes cast lazily around her chambers. They were lit dimly, like most rooms within the Dreadfort. Very little natural sunlight came in through the rectangular windows, the majority of illumination in the room sourced from the hearth in which she almost always kept a fire burning. 

Turning her face away from the room, Lucy gathered up a handful of water from the bathtub, splashing it onto her face. Her fingers closed around the slab of soap, scented and perfumed with her preferred scents rose and vanilla. She scrubbed at her skin urgently, until it turned pink, taking care to wash away the lingering scent of horses, dogs, and forest. 

She just stepped from the bath and pulled on her dressing gown when her mother came sweeping into the room with Beatrice and Jill in tow.

Genevieve Tully was short, though not as short as Lucy, with auburn hair that fell in loose curls down to her waist. And while she and Lucy looked alike, sharing the same red hair and brown eyes, her mother’s face was rounder and softer. Lucy had often thought that her mother looked an awful lot like a doll. 

A sad, haunted doll. 

There was a large bundle of dark fabric clutched in her hands. Lucy watched her lay it out onto the bed. Her mother had been working on the various dresses they were to wear during all the festivities for months.

“How are the preparations coming along?” she asked, taking note of her mother’s frazzled expression, the skin around her lips tight with tension. Beatrice and Jill started helping her into her underlayers. 

“Well enough. You know how these things always go. They’re just putting the finishing touches on the great hall now. Lorelei is a nervous mess. She wants everything to be perfect.”

Lucy hummed in acknowledgement, her maids helping her into the dress. Her mother stood back, hands ringing nervously, eyes assessing the lay of the fabric, looking for any flaws. 

“I can do the rest. You two go along and help downstairs,” she ordered Beatrice and Jill. Soon as they were gone, she took an apprehensive step towards Lucy, peering at her from over her shoulder in the mirror they were standing in front of, reaching out to adjust the dress’s neckline. 

“You look lovely.”

Lucy cocked her head, examining herself in the mirror. The dress was of heavy black material, with glittering black beads embroidered into elegant swirls that bordered the neckline and cuffs. Her fingers trailed along the strip of pale skin that was revealed by the plunging neckline.

“Father won’t like how low cut it is.”

Her mother sighed, reaching back to start styling Lucy’s hair for her. “Bugger what he thinks. You’re meeting royalty today. You should look your best.”

“You’re sure it isn’t too tight in the waist?”

“It’s not. You have a beautiful figure. It would be a shame not to show it off.”

Lucy squinted at the face full of dense freckles that stared back at her in the mirror. “I doubt that our guests will be paying much attention to me.” Her father was the younger brother of the late Lord Bolton and Amos’s father. Set to inherit nothing. Their branch of the family was ultimately inconsequential. Especially in the eyes of the ruling house of Westeros. 

Her mother shot her a look over her shoulder. “You never know.” 

“I’m still surprised that they decided to have the wedding here and not in King’s Landing.”

“Perhaps they wish to strengthen their ties with the north. Some of the houses up here often feel neglected by the crown.”

Lucy cocked her head. She supposed that also would explain why the future queen was planning to live primarily in the Dreadfort for the time being, rather than King’s Landing.

“Besides, they’re already having the coronation in the capitol.” Her mother finished pinning her hair up and was just reaching for the cloak Beatrice or Jill had deposited onto the bed, when the door opened. She froze.

“Victor.”

Lucy looked up sharply at the name falling from her mother’s lips. He was standing in the doorway, jaw set tightly. His eyes stared at them, cold and unwavering. 

“Genevieve, will you give me a moment alone with Lucilla?” 

Her mother hesitated, shooting Lucy a nervous look. Lucy slipped into the chair in front of her vanity, reaching for her cosmetics. She gave her a small nod.

Her mother shifted uncomfortably, clearly still reluctant to leave her alone with him, but headed to the door. Beside the hearth, Shadow lifted his head from where it had been resting on top of his huge paws, eyes gleaming in the firelight, watching Lucy’s father suspiciously. 

She raised an eyebrow at him. She was fairly certain she hadn’t done anything particular today to anger him. “What do you want?” she asked, looking at him through the mirror, setting about dabbing perfume behind her ears and to her wrists, then sliding her gold rings into place on her fingers.

He approached her slowly, each footstep meeting the floor with an audible thud, until he was standing right behind her. 

“You are not to make any trouble today, do you understand?”

“Why would I make any trouble?” she asked, not looking at him, instead keeping her eyes lowered to the vanity. 

“Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t love to see this house plunged back into irrelevance.”

She felt her jaw twitch. Standing, she went to pick up the black leather gloves her mother had left for her sitting on the bed, pulling them on.

“This is an order from Amos directly, Lucilla,” her father continued. She had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

It drove her mad, sometimes. How so much of the family acted as if Amos were a god. Yes, he had lifted House Bolton to a higher, more respectable position than they could ever have imagined. But the bodies and blood which had fueled that rise made her stomach churn. They were more respected than ever before, but only because they’d garnered a reputation for torture and cruelty. 

One could not rule through fear alone. Love was just as important. There had to be balance between the two.

Lucy could not help but wonder how much longer they could continue on like this, before their constituents had enough. 

And now Amos was about to be king. 

The idea of what he could do with that kind of power, what kind of pain he could inflict, made her muscles seize with horror. 

“If we can’t trust you to behave yourself, you can sit here in your room until the festivities are over,” her father decreed, those cold eyes still boring into her. 

“The queen is going to be living here after the wedding,” she pointed out. “What are you going to do? Keep me locked up in my chambers forever?”

One of his hands shot out to grip her face, fingers squeezing at her cheeks. Forcing her to meet his eyes.

“If you ruin this for him…”

She shoved his hand away, jerking her face back. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?” Her membership to their house was the only thing that had so far protected her from the absolute worst punishments her family liked to dole out, but she knew that even that would not be enough to save her if she wrecked Amos’s wedding to the future queen of Westeros.

Her father stared down into her eyes, jaw working. He was a severe, rugged looking man, with ice cold eyes and a meticulously trimmed beard. His blonde hair was inherited from his mother, who had been of a house in the crownlands, but the rest of him was pure Bolton. His lips downturned at the corners in an eternal frown, brow creased forever in a look of deep disapproval. Lucy could not even recall a time when she had ever seen her father smile. 

Turning away from her, he reached for the dark cloak laying on the bed, its collar made of soft, dark fur. He draped it over her shoulders in a way that, if done by anyone else, might have seemed gentle.

Hands still resting on her upper arms, he leaned into her shoulder, lips almost brushing against her ear. “Don’t embarrass me, Lucilla,” he whispered, the unspoken threat beneath his words obvious to them both.

He let her go without another word, and went to the door. Lucy shivered, tugging her cloak tighter around her. Shadow whined, getting up and coming over to nudge at her legs with his nose. Lucy gave him a few scratches behind the ear, then ventured to the window to peer outside. The snow had let up, the clouds beginning to break apart. 

Pulling away from the window, she made for the door, closing it securely behind her. Weaving through the corridors, she ventured down a hall and pushed open a door leading outside to a balcony. Leaning against the cold stone edge, Lucy cast her gaze down onto the bustle of people putting the finishing touches on the courtyard below.

There was slight stirring of the wind, just enough to have the loose locks of crimson hair resting against Lucy’s cheeks fluttering. That was her only warning before the sky erupted with a huge, bellowing roar. 

Her head whipped around, tilting upwards, eyes scanning the skies. Another roar answered the one which had just sounded. Then another. And another. 

And then a massive, pitch black shadow burst from the clouds, swooping down towards the castle. 

She felt her breath catch at the first sighting of a real, living dragon. Its scales were black as night, as were the horns and even the membranes of its two enormous wings. The only visible color on the creature were its two great, dark red eyes. Even in the daylight, they seemed to flicker and glow. Its horns were curved back towards its long neck, large spines sprouting like massive thorns from its back. 

It dive-bombed the castle, seemingly headed straight for her, and for a moment she thought that it wasn’t going to pull up in time, but instead collide head-on with her and smash her flat beneath its massive body.

But at the last moment it veered away, exposing its belly to her, revealing that the scales there were as black as the ones covering its back. The dragon whooshed over the castle, coming close enough for her to feel the rush of air when it flapped its wings. She watched it glide over the courtyard, heading for the large field just outside the castle walls. On the dragon’s back, she could make out the blot of a figure garbed in dark colors seated in the saddle. 

From the sky, more dragons began to descend. A massive one of pure white circled the castle twice before joining the black dragon in landing on the barren field. Another with black scales but with red scattered throughout its coloring followed right behind. Lucy watched, transfixed, as they each swooped over and around the castle, as if assessing it, before landing. Dragons of red, blue, green, and gold scales, varying in sizes, their roars to announce their presence each distinctive in their own right.

Lucy could not have pulled herself away from her position gawking down from the balcony even if the entire castle had been on fire. Wonderment flooded her veins at the beautiful creatures that, until that moment, she had only ever read about. Just barely, she could make out the little figures dismounting from their mounts’ backs.

She wondered if any of them would be kind enough to let her see the dragons up close. 

The black one that had dived towards her turned its head, and she could have sworn those crimson eyes looked directly at her. She felt her heart leap into her throat, the reality of the situation they’d found themselves suddenly feeling an awful lot more real than it had that morning. 

The Targaryens were here. 

∗ ∗ ∗

They received the dragon lords in the courtyard. Standing in a line straight as an arrow, shoulder to shoulder, with their household gathered behind them. Lucy could feel nerves tightening in her throat, eyes glued to the gates.

When they swung open, they all fell to their knees, heads bowed respectfully before the royal family.

Flanked by knights wearing the snow white cloaks of the Kingsguard, the Targaryens led the procession that came streaming in. Practically half of court looked to be behind them, waiting to be let inside or setting up camp in the fields surrounding the Dreadfort. Many from the south had made the journey north to be present at the wedding of the princess.

Dowager Queen Pollyanna Targaryen was at the front, her chin tilted upwards, hair that was half brown, half platinum blonde swung around her face. She had ruled over Westeros as Queen Regent for many years following her first husband’s death, until her only child with the king was of age to wed and claim her title as queen. For her part, Pollyanna looked every bit as Lucy had imagined she would: regal and wise beyond her years. A true matriarch of the Targaryen family in every possible way.

She marched towards them, coming to a halt directly in front of Amos. With an almost indiscernible twitch of her gloved fingers, she indicated for them all to rise. 

“Lord Bolton,” Pollyanna said once they were all back on their feet, gaze fixed upon him. 

“Queen Pollyanna,” he dipped his head respectfully.

Pollyanna looked him up and down. Then reached a hand back, gesturing to one of her family who had followed her into the courtyard. 

A small, unfathomably beautiful girl stepped forward. Her hair was the purest white, falling long and untethered down her back. Her eyes were wide and an unearthly, almost glowing blue, skin nearly as pale as her hair. She was young. Younger than Lucy, even, by at least a few years. She could only have been seven and ten at the most. 

She looked like an angel. A creature of winter and frost and ice. 

She would do well here, up in the north. Lucy could tell from just a glance. 

“May I present Princess Heavenerys Targaryen,” Pollyanna announced, the pride in her voice regarding her daughter obvious. 

Lucy watched Amos’s reaction to his future wife with interest, brow raising at the way his lips visibly parted, eyes widening at the sight of Heavenerys.

She could have almost said that he looked enamored–or at least as enamored as her cousin was capable of looking. 

The rest of the royal family were still gathered behind Heavenerys and Pollyanna. There was Prince Mikael, Pollyanna’s child with her second husband who she wedded after the king’s death. And then there were the children of Pollyanna’s brother, the late Aerthurys I. Standing at the front was Prince Aerthurys II, with his bushy mustache and a deep, pained look in his eyes. There was Prince Jon, gaze fixed like a protective hawk onto Heavenerys, and beside him was Princess Aedarya, her long dark hair shifting through the breeze, glinting almost auburn in the right light. She had a hand resting on the youngest, Prince Fynlor’s, shoulder. 

While none had hair as pale as Heavenerys, all had the same striking violet eyes that marked them indisputably as the blood of the dragon.  

All but one.

Prince Thomaryon Targaryen stood beside Aerthurys. His hair, dark as night, made him a notable outlier next to his siblings, even more so when paired with his piercing, pale blue eyes.

His lack of the typical Targaryen features had stirred up whispers across the realm that he was a bastard. It was even said that there were some within court and the royal family who had suspicions regarding his legitimacy. But Thomaryon, notorious for his ambition as much as for his solemn and cold disposition, had made himself invaluable to the ruling of Westeros. He may have been the second oldest of his line, but it was indisputable that he was the most clever and suited to politics out of all his siblings. Mumblings of his giftedness in the art of ruling had even made it all the way up to the most northern houses in the realm. 

Lucy’s gaze which had been sweeping across the royal family settled on him and refused to budge. There was a sudden tightening in her chest, her heartbeat kicking up a notch.      

He was absolutely breathtaking. Sharp, chiseled features, with high cheekbones and a jaw that could cut glass. But the severity that his face could have held was somewhat softened by the fullness of his lips and the snub of his nose. 

She stared at him, feeling as though something had just been stirred awake inside her. It had become suddenly far clearer to her why many of the ladies who traveled south practically waxed poetic about the beautiful, melancholic prince and his eyes that were the color of sapphires. 

Those eyes shifted from where they had been fixed on Amos and Heavenerys to suddenly lock onto hers. Lucy met them for only a minuscule of a second, just long enough to see them widen a fraction, before she quickly looked down and away. Her cheeks warmed at having been caught staring. 

“Let me introduce you to my family,” Amos’s voice pulled her attention away. He had given Heavenerys his arm, guiding her down the line of Boltons, introducing her first to his mother, Lorelei, and then his younger brother, Orion.

“And this is my Uncle Victor and Aunt Genevieve,” Amos gestured to Lucy’s parents, who both bowed respectfully to the future queen. Lucy and her brothers were standing in order of birth, meaning that as the oldest she was standing beside her mother.

“My cousin, Lucilla.” It was likely that no one else noticed the slight way in which Amos’s voice tightened with irritation at her name.

“Princess Heavenerys,” Lucy smiled as warmly as she could, ignoring the way her cousin’s black eyes stared at her in silent warning. She bowed her head to the princess. Heavenerys smiled shyly at her. She truly was a little thing, only taller than Lucy by perhaps a few inches. It was strange to not have to crane her head up to meet her gaze.

Amos tugged Heavenerys further down the line, likely eager to get her away from Lucy.

“And these are her brothers, Theodan, Patrek, Elyas, and William…”

His voice faded as Lucy lifted her head to find the piercing blue of Thomaryon’s eyes still staring at her, the expression on his face indecipherable.       

Amos’s voice rose loud and clear across the courtyard, reiterating a welcome to the Targaryens, and inviting them into the castle to rest and relax after a long day of travel before the welcoming feast that was to be held that night. 

The Targaryens started to make their way inside. Lucy shifted from foot to foot, only half hearing her mother’s voice or feeling her hand on her arm when she started to draw her away.

Her mind was too preoccupied with the memory of Thomaryon’s bright blue eyes, staring at her intensely from across the courtyard. Or the interest that she could have sworn she saw in them. 

∗ ∗ ∗

The great hall of the Dreadfort was a dim and smoky abode. Rows of torches lined the walls, grasped by skeletal human hands. Long tables were set up before the dais that housed the high table and seat of the Lord of the Dreadfort. The ceilings were vaulted, wooden rafters dyed black from smoke.  

Food was piled high on every table, black and red candles flickering in their stands. Cutlery clinked against plates, chatter growing louder throughout the hall as its residents downed wine or ale and became more acquainted with each other. Cheery music echoed through the hall; a strange thing, Lucy could not even remember the last time they’d had actual minstrels play for them in the castle.

Lucy sat between her mother and brother, Teddy at the high table, where all of houses Bolton and Targaryen were seated for the feast. Though as the evening went on, a few got up to mingle about the hall with the other guests.

Lucy picked at her meal and sipped at her wine, bored. Normally, Teddy would be her primary companion during an event like this, but he had been placed on Ricky duty by Amos and her father for the duration of the Targaryen’s stay. Which meant that he had to spend the majority of the evening trailing after their troubled little brother, snatching wine glasses out of his hand before had a chance to become too inebriated and make a fool of himself, as he was oft to do.   

That left her on her own, gaze sweeping over their guests lazily. At the head of the table, Amos and Heavenerys sat side by side, talking animatedly. Lucy felt her brows draw in at the way that they were looking at each other. Heavenerys’s smitten expression was not entirely shocking; Amos had always been capable of being quite charming when he wanted to be. But the look on Amos’s face, one of almost complete captivation, took Lucy entirely by surprise. 

“He seems quite taken with her,” her mother commented into her ear, having followed her gaze. 

“Yes, he does.” Lucy shifted in her seat, swirling the red wine in her cup. “Who would have thought, eh?”

Her mother gave her a look. “Perhaps this was what he needed. Maybe she can…help him.”

You mean like how you helped Father? Remind me again how that’s worked out for you? She bit her tongue against the bitter words, glancing back over at their future king and queen.

“Perhaps,” she acquiesced. But I wouldn’t hold my breath.

That poor girl had no idea what she was in for. Amos may have turned up the charm now, but who knew if that would last after the other Targaryens returned to King’s Landing and left Heavenerys up here on her own. 

Her mother rose from her seat to go mingle, leaving Lucy to observe the rest of the party on her own. Mikael was speaking softly with her father in the corner. Pollyanna, still seated in her chair at the high table, watched the other guests in the hall with a scrutinizing eye. Jon had gotten himself caught up in a rowdy drinking game. Aedarya and Fynlor were chatting with Elyas and William. 

When her gaze shifted to fix across the room from her, it was to find a pair of what were becoming increasingly familiar blue eyes staring at her. 

As soon as her and Thomaryon’s gazes met, he quickly looked away. She wished that she was closer or that the lighting of the hall was not so dim, so that she could tell if the slight hue that flared across his cheeks was an actual blush, or just a trick of the light. He returned his gaze back to Lord Karstark, who was speaking to him from his spot seated across the table from the prince.

But every so often, throughout the rest of the duration of the feast, she sensed his eyes flickering over to gaze at her from across the room.

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Tag List: @call-sign-shark @justrainandcoffee @lunarubra @evita-shelby @shelbydelrey @cillmequick @theycametoconquertheearth53 @peakyswritings @moral-terpitude @shelbyteller

[dogywoofer996]

Shifted in the middle of driving home at nearly 3am. First actually recognized shift. So very fitting to be on a full moon night. Learned to howl and bark as I took the long way home. god this was so fulfilling; I feel RIGHT for once; I love this!

[whitewolfstracks]

Thinking about getting into reading Kazan the wolfdog again. I usually read it in winter, but I really need a comfort read rn, when reading is about the only thing I can do. I believe the book was my wolf awakening.

I read it when I was about 6-9. Together with Bella and Sebastian. That's how I got my nickname. I identified with Bella, the Beast very much. Me and my friend used to play she was Barí, Kazan's son, and I was Bella.

However, in time, Bella also became a wolfdog because I didn't vibe with being just a dog, so only the coat colour remained. We were usually playing we were hunted by humans and experimented on and had to get away. I also felt wolfish when we were on a stage of a musical we played in. In retrospect, these were probably the first times I shifted.

Then I used to run around streets wary of people fully in wolf mode. I also had these like experiences from other astral planes, I guess?? I dreamed about the wolf being in its own world that I recognised, and when I got hurt there, I got phantom pains in the waking world in my human body.

My friend eventually grew up from it, which, for me at the time, was a great betrayal. I didn't. Then things got really bad at home, and I started hearing this voice. It was wise, it used to advise and comfort me. At that time, I really believed it's a being from a different world reaching out to me. An elf I could meet in someone one day.

I started to believe I was an elf, and that's why I'm so different from humans around me when I started middle school. I was vulnerable to prey upon, so that's how I met a guy online who was 10 years older (I was 13 at the time) who said he was a barbarian and a werewolf. I thought I loved him and that he loved me.

But he blackmailed me emotionally, calling me to describe how he cut himself, threatening to kill himself. In the end, he left me. It threw me into deep depression, for a year, I was functioning like a zombie, identifying strongly with Bella in the New Moon, probably also because of the same name.

I remember nothing from that year. Something in me died then. It was the elf part. From that time on, it was only the Wolf as my companion, and as I met my pack then (in 2009) it fully awakened as my theriotype even though I didn't know the term yet.

The Kazan book still makes me very shifty these days, even giving me urges to pull sledge in the snow.

[c0la-queen]

HELLO!! I just wanted to say that I am absolutely IN LOVE with your works!!! 😭😭😭 its hard to even find EW fanfics nowadays and your fics have such high quality it’s like finding shiny, luxurious beautiful diamonds.

I genuinely love how you depict all of the characters so much I don’t think any other resonates with me as much as yours does, most Especially Tord. My god, you write him so well, his midly uncanny strange-esq demeanor and off-putting nature fits Perfectly with his character being a child solider and all, being subjected to the horrors of survival, war and being so close to death at such a young age growing up Would absolutely make him a little abnormal, like there’s something definitively wrong with him in that twisted mind of his. I love that truly.

I’ve been mega binging your works to read for fun and I love them so much— but most especially the Hybrid series I love SOOOO MUCHHHHH AGHHHH and I wanted to ask of you were going to continue it in any forms??? 🥹🥹🥹 like hcs, more drabbles, imagines or literally Anything frfr I beg of you 😭😭🙏 I love the wolfdog boys so much hicccc…

I ALSO SAW THAT YOU WERE ASKING IF WE WANTED REVERSE AU! WHERE READER IS THE HYBRID INSTEAD AND YES ABSOLUTELY I would love to see how the gang handles her and whatnot if you’d like to make that still whehehe, anything you want really!! 😭 thank you so much for your hard work and thank you even more if you manage to write these requests 💖💖💖🥹

USUEUSSJDJ YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME WAAAAH!! Sometimes I get a little insecure about my writing, so to hear all the sweet things you guys say always makes my entire day!! And hearing you say that about my Tord is literally one of the highest forms of praise I've ever received!! I'll probably make some more content of the Hybrid Boys as well, since I love this Hybrid AU a lot! But for now, here's a drabble of Hybrid Reader that I've been working on for a little bit!!! I hope you enjoy!! Mwah mwah!!

---

Stray Bunny | Eddsworld x Reader

Warnings: Drunk Tom, Reader is a bunny hybrid because I love bunnies fight me, the boys are victim to the Hybrid Distribution System

Words: 1.4k

---

You didn't know where to go. You didn't have anywhere to go. The rain was going to start falling soon.

Worst of all, you were stuck in your shifted form. A mixture of anxiety, paranoia, and hopelessness had caused you to shift by pure instinct, and you couldn't get yourself to calm down enough to go back.

So you just... run. Run down the sidewalk as the rain droplets begin to fall, dodging between pedestrians' legs. You didn't know where you were going, but you knew you had to go somewhere.

The harder the rain fell, the less people were on the streets. Rushing home and ducking into nearby shops to take shelter until the storm eased up. A few brave umbrella wielders kept walking, determined to finish their journey.

Every drop that splashed against your body soaked into your fur, weighing it down and making your running more difficult. You were passing a building when suddenly the door was thrown open aggressively, making you yelp and scramble to a stop.

You watched as a young man staggered out of the building. From the smell and the sounds and the brief peek you got through the door, it was a pub. The man was unsteady on his feet, you wouldn't be surprised if he was absolutely piss drunk right now.

Not wanting to get tangled in his feet, you stopped, stepping back to wait for him to pass. He whistled a tune, fishing a cigarette box out of his pocket and popping one in between his teeth -

-before stopping. And staring.

At you.

Surely he was piss drunk because instead of being disgusted or angry - or anything else you expected, really - he immediately dropped his unlit cigarette to the ground without a care in the world. He crouched in front of you, starting to coo and baby talk.

You were too confused to even process what he was saying - he was too drunk to know what he was saying, either.

Next thing you knew, you were being scooped up into his hands. He continued to coo and talk as he pressed his cheek against your fur.

The sound of car tires drew your attention. You peeked up in time to see car headlights pulling into the parking lot of the pub. At the sight, the man holding you tucked you safely into his hood. You made a sound, but he just giggled and shushed you.

You couldn't complain too much, though. It was warm, and dry.

"Tom, mate, you look like shit."

"And you, Matt, look like the queen."

"You've definitely had too many drinks. Get in the car."

Surprisingly, the drunk man - Tom, it seemed - took care not to smush you against the carseat. Slowly, your panic began to subside. The warmth of the AC and the gentle movements of the car driving down the road eventually lulled you to sleep.

--

You jolted awake when Tom began moving again. The car had stopped, apparently reaching its destination. You couldn't see anything but the dark blue fabric, so you weren't quite sure where you were.

Was this the safest choice you could've made? No. But, in your mind, it was better than the streets.

"Matt. How many bloody drinks did he have?"

"Don't ask me. He wasn't very conversational in the car."

"Fuckin' hell."

Tom's movements stopped for a moment. Then, he was falling. Well, you were both falling. You squeaked as you tumbled out of his hood, rolling onto the carpeted floor below. Whatever conversation had been going on above you stopped.

"Is that... a rabbit?"

You righted yourself, shaking your head to get your ears out of your face. It was a house that you were in, more specifically a living room. Tom was laying on his stomach on a couch. He must have drunkenly flopped down onto it, causing you to fall out of his hood.

Two more men were standing beside the couch. Staring at you in disbelief. You attempted to shrink in on yourself, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

"Edd, the poor thing is soaked. Look at how it's trembling. We can't get rid of it."

"I wasn't planning on it. Jesus, I'm not heartless."

The man named Edd crouched down next to you, gently picking you up in his hands. His fingers smoothed over your head, gently scratching at the base of your ear. Embarrassing as it was, you fucking melted.

"Of course Tom would get drunk and bring an animal home. I'm just glad it's not something rabid."

"I'll go get a towel to dry them off. The poor dear is probably freezing."

While the other man disappeared down a hall, the one holding you carried you over to the kitchen.

"I'm sure you're hungry. Rabbits like carrots, don't they? I don't know how realistic that portrayal is."

You couldn't help but huff at that. It was an annoying stereotype in your opinion - though you did enjoy the taste of carrots regardless.

"Rabbits are herbivores. They'll eat any kind of vegetable or plant you offer them."

Edd set you down on the counter as he opened the fridge.

"Nice of you to join the land of the living, Tord."

The newest addition to the room scared you the most. He was intimidating looking, muscular and mean. His cold eyes were fixed on you.

When he approached, you backed away slightly. Noticing this, he made sure to lift his hand slowly, extending a finger out to you. You watched his hand move cautiously. He slid his finger under your head, gently scratching your chin. To your horror, your back foot thumped against the counter.

You were going to die of embarrassment.

Tord's lips quirked up in a small, amused smile.

"Do I even want to know why there is a bunny in the kitchen?"

"Tom's drunk."

"Ah."

Matt eventually returned with a towel.

The three men absently chatted as Matt gently and thoroughly dried your soaked fur. You were completely relaxed in his hold. He even made sure to be especially careful drying your ears.

Yeah, there were definitely worse things than this.

In your relaxed state, you didn't quite account for just how much you had calmed down. Before you knew it, you had suddenly shifted back into your normal form.

The three men froze. You froze.

"....hi."

The longer the silence stretched out, the more fear built up inside of you. What if they were angry? What if they threw you out? What if they hurt you?

As possibilities ran through your head, tears started to well in your eyes.

"What the fuck."

The dam broke. Tears flooded down your cheeks, sobs catching in your throat.

The three men jumped into action. Matt drew you into his arms, holding you securely.

"Tord! Look what you did!"

"Me?? What did I do??"

"You scared the poor thing! I can feel her trembling."

"I feel like my response was very reasonable."

--

One plate of carrots and ranch later, and your tears had been calmed. Having tired yourself out, you were lying comfortably in Edd's lap in an armchair. Matt and Tord were sitting on the couch. They had moved Tom to a makeshift bed on the floor where they could keep an eye on him until he was sober.

Edd's fingers ran through your hair, smoothing out any knots he found. Occasionally he would scratch at the base of your ears, making you hum happily.

Amongst your tears earlier, Matt had managed to coax your story out of you. Now, they were deciding what to do.

"She doesn't have a handler, Edd. We can't just turn her away."

"I know, Matt. I don't want to kick her out."

The two men looked at Tord expectantly.

"What?"

"No dissenting opinions?"

"Of course not. I'm not a fucking monster."

"What about Tom?"

Edd glanced down at the fourth man.

"He's forfeiting his vote."

With that, Edd gently cupped your cheeks and tilted your head up to look at him. Through the sleepy haze of your vision, you saw him give you a gentle smile.

"What's your vote, bunny? Do you wanna stay here with us?"

Did you? These were four men that you didn't know. Despite that, they had been kinder to you than anyone had been in a long time.

You didn't have to think long about your answer.

You nodded, slow and lazy as you fought against sleep.

Edd laughed softly, settling you back down.

"Get some sleep, love. You're alright now. We've got you.”

Taking those words to heart, you slept better than you had in months.

[sleepyc0smic]

Yes, I'm a Polytherian/Polykin :] I'm writing down current types! I will remove or add to the list if I awakened something.

I'm an Otherhearted

Awakened: 06/28/24

I experience phantom limbs of wings, tails, fangs, teeth, claws, and ears. Especially Phantom ears and wings.

Slight mental shifts and emotional shifts.

Confirmed Therian types:

Canines:

Bat eared Fox

Cross Fox

Red Fox

Marbled Fox

Grey Wolf

Costal Wolf

Dark Brown Wolf

Alexander Archipelago Wolf

Wolfdog

Bernese Mountain Dog

German Shepherd

Akita

Kangal

Norwegian Elkhound

-

Feline:

Maine Coon

Calico cat

Canada Lynx

Siberian Tiger

Cougar

-

Birds:

Great eared nightjar

Harpy Eagle

Barn Owl

Crow

-

Reptiles:

Alligator

----

(Doing research)

Unconfirmed/questioning types:

Horsekin

Ghostkin

Sheepkin

Snakekin

Batkin

----

Otherkin:

Angel/Divine

God - light and comfort

Celestial

Monster

----

Conceptkin:

Light

Stars

Clouds

----

Heartypes:

Angel

Red Fox

Calico

Great Eared Nightjar

It feels nice to make this list!

[poplarbark]

its funny cause. my fursona is a rust coloured wolfdog, but when i see myself in shifts or get phantom limbs, theyre black and grey... . especially my tail. but other times it is sandy and rust coloured like it is on my sona! strange happenings