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g-wulfing-author · 1 year

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The Tale Of Agapito The Werewolf

A retelling of ‘Bisclavret’, a lay of Marie de France.

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Content warnings: animal attack, blood, violence.

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Once upon a time, there was a knight whose adventures transformed his body as well as his mind.

His name was Agapito; he was fit, intelligent, quiet but cheerful, and liked by almost all who knew him. He had brown eyes, curly dark-brown hair, and was skilled in all the ways that a knight should be.

He ran a manor house that lay not far from the castle of his lord, the king of that land, and often he would hunt in the company of the king, who treasured his friendship and bade him ride alongside him with Sir Tancredi, another friend of the king. The three of them had known each other for many years, and worked together often; and the king never smiled so much or so freely as when he was with these two friends.

It happened that Sir Agapito grew to love a lady of the court, named Genoveffa, and she loved him in return; and, after a year of courting, Agapito told the king that he wished to marry Genoveffa.

His friend King Damiano released Genoveffa from his service, and gave them his blessing. “I wish you long lives and happiness together,” King Damiano told him; “though I will miss you, Agapito, and I am glad that your manor is not far from my castle.”

And only Sir Tancredi noticed the sadness in the king’s eyes at Agapito’s wedding, but he said nothing, only laid his hand on the king’s shoulder, and filled his bowl with desserts.

~*~*~

Lady Genoveffa and Sir Agapito were happy together. Only one thing began to bother the lady. After every five days, Agapito would leave for some business he claimed required his attention on the other side of the forest that lay to the North of his manor. He would leave early on the fifth day, be absent for two nights, and return late in the evening of the seventh day. Whenever Genoveffa asked him where he went, or what he did, he would reply with vague excuses. Nor did any of his servants or tenants know where he went or why.

More than once, the lady asked, “You are always so tired when you return; why is that?”

And Agapito would reply, “Because I am rushing home to be with you, my love.”

More than once, the lady asked, “Whom do you talk with?”

And Agapito would reply, “No one as interesting as you, my dear,” and kiss her.

One evening when the knight returned, seeming in a contented mood despite his tiredness, the lady Genoveffa decided to press him.

“Husband,” she began, “sweet friend, I long to ask you for something, but I fear you will be angry with me. I would rather not ask it than displease you, but I am sorely tried by it.”

Sir Agapito took his wife in his arms and kissed her. “My dear,” he answered her, “ask what you will. What would you have, for it is yours already?”

“I am right relieved to hear you say that,” sighed Genoveffa. “Husband, the days when you are not here are dreary and fearful to me. I know not where you are or what may happen to you. Tell me, husband: where do you go? And why?”

Agapito’s heart sank, and he regretted his previous words. “Wife,” he whispered, “ask me anything but that. I pray you, do not ask me that.”

“But why, Agapito?! You abandon me for half of every week but you expect me not to ask why?”

The knight hung his head. “Ask me anything but that,” he repeated lowly.

His lady began to weep. “Do you have a lover, Agapito? Have you tired of me so soon?”

And so she begged and fretted in anguish, until her loving husband could no longer resist, and he agreed to tell her what she wished to know, but only in deep seclusion.

That night, in their bedroom, with all doors and shutters closed, he whispered to her his secret.

“I desired never to tell you this, but since it causes you so much grief, I will tell you; and as you are my wife you have a right to know, though even now I am terrified that you will hate me when you hear it.

“Genoveffa, I am a werewolf.

“I am forced to spend three days out of every seven in the form of a wolf. I cannot control it. When I feel the transformation approaching, I go into the forest, and live there as a wolf until the transformation leaves me.”

As his wife listened in amazement, Agapito explained how his condition had occurred. Soon after he and Genoveffa were married, Agapito had needed to visit a town several days’ ride away, on business for the king. The way was not dangerous, so he had travelled alone, but the path ran through a forest to the East of his manor; and while he sat among the trees, to rest his horse and eat his cheese and bread, a great grey wolf had sprung boldly from the bushes and seized the food from his hand, disappearing into the forest with its plunder. Agapito had been too busy trying to keep hold of his affrighted horse to pay much attention to the wolf or where it went, but when he had managed to calm his steed somewhat, he found that the wolf’s fangs had torn a small gash in his hand. Cleaning and bandaging the wound as best he could, he continued on his way to the next town, but when he woke the next morning at the inn where he stayed, he was consumed by fever. The illness lasted three days, but receded quickly, so he was able to continue on his way and complete his business.

Four days later, however, as he was on his way back through the forest, a feverish feeling came upon him, and in a state of near delirium he found himself dismounting, and casting off his clothes as his skin was inflamed with heat. To his horror, felt himself transforming. When his mind cleared, he found that he was a wolf. His horse abandoned him in terror, and in misery and confusion he wandered the forest for three days, until, on the evening of the third day, the feverish feeling returned and some strange urge compelled him to return to his clothes and attempt to garb his wolfish form. To his astonishment, his human body returned.

All that night he staggered toward his home, dishevelled, dirty, exhausted, famished, with a partly healed wound on his hand, wan with the horror of his ordeal.

His horse had made its way home without him, causing Lady Genoveffa and two of their servants to ride out seeking him. They found him before he left the forest, and their concern and relief were such that Agapito could not bear the thought of explaining to them the truth of what had happened to him; claiming instead that his horse had bolted deep into the forest and thrown him, and recounting only his earlier fever at the inn to explain his pallor and weakness.

In vain did he hope that the transformation would not happen again. For, four days later, he felt the fever upon him again, and, making an excuse, took himself on foot to the nearest forest: one that lay to the North of his manor.

From then on, he learned the pattern of his disease.

Lady Genoveffa well remembered the frightening incident; her dread upon seeing her husband’s horse return riderless, her relief upon finding him wretched but whole in the forest, and how her husband’s unease had lasted for days even after he was once again safe at home. Now she listened with mute terror to the full story.

Agapito told her that he had since ridden out to find the wolf who bit him, in the hope that it was also a werewolf and might be able to help him to lift his disease, and had searched in both wolf and human form; but had never found any trace of that creature who had stolen his food and changed his life forever.

When the lady again found her tongue, she stammered, “What of your clothes? Do they change with you?”

“No; the illness compels me to undress and leave them behind.”

“But — you are gone for days; how do you keep them safe and dry?”

Agapito’s brow crinkled, and he was silent in thought for some time. At last he said, “Genoveffa, my love, I cannot tell you. It is only as I put on my clothes that I change from wolf to man. Somehow, I feel that if I lose my clothing, I will be trapped as a wolf forever. Please, humour me in this, and let me keep this secret.”

The lady began to weep. “Do you not trust me, Agapito? — Me, your own wife?”

In vain did her husband explain that it was an abundance of caution, not a mote of distrust, that stayed his tongue. His wife would not be satisfied. And so she importuned him, with many tears, for an hour in the night, until her loving husband could stand it no longer.

He whispered to her that there was an ancient chapel in the forest, all overgrown with moss and mould, with young trees sprouting in its rooms, like forest acolytes, and ivy for its tapestries. It was difficult to see from the forest path, but for those who knew of it, it was easy enough to reach. At the farther end of the chapel was a cluster of bushes and a mess of rubble where part of the chapel wall had collapsed, and one of the largest stones he had hollowed out inside and concealed beneath a bush, and in that stone did he hide his clothing.

“After two nights,” Agapito said, “before sunset, when I can feel that my transformation is receding, I return to the chapel, and reclaim my clothes, and, with them, my shape.”

At last, Sir Agapito asked his wife, “Are you content? Have I satisfied your questions at last?”

And the lady told him that he had. “And,” Sir Agapito asked, “do you still love me?”

And the lady told him that she did.

Relieved, Sir Agapito kissed his wife’s hand, and then the tired knight fell deeply asleep.

But the lady Genoveffa could not sleep that night.

All night she lay awake and stared into the darkness, listening to the breathing of her sleeping husband, imagining his face and form twisting into that of a thick-furred, heavy-pawed, great-toothed, slavering beast. What if he should transform at home, one day? If he could not control his transformations but was obliged to leave so that they were not observed by others, what would happen if he could not leave? If some sickness or injury compelled him to remain at home — what then?

How could she ever feel safe whilst she was married to a werewolf?

~*~*~

Now there was another knight who had known the lady Genoveffa since they were young, and had loved her for years before she chose Sir Agapito for her husband. Twice had he begged her to marry him, but she had denied him. His name was Baldovino, and the moment that Genoveffa was sure in her heart that she could not be happy married to a werewolf, she wrote to him.

Dear friend, she wrote, rejoice: for I suffer in my marriage to Agapito, and regret a thousand times that I did not choose you, sweet Baldovino; you who have loved me so patiently for so long. Only aid me in escaping Agapito, and I will pledge myself to you forever. Please come; please help me; please be mine.

Baldovino sent his reply at once, eagerly accepting her offer, and Genoveffa told him the date to arrive: one when Agapito would be yet again in the woods.

This time, when Sir Agapito left, his wife shuddered as he closed the door behind him, for now she knew where he was going; and where, in her innocence, she had wished for his return, in her new knowledge she wished he would never come back.

When Sir Baldovino arrived, the day after Agapito left, Genoveffa confided all to him, and told him of her next intentions.

Baldovino hesitated when the lady explained her plan, but he agreed that it was not right that she should be married to a beast, and when she begged for his help and promised him her love, he could not resist.

It was a fine midsummer day with a light breeze; pleasant for riding. Together, in broad daylight, they rode to the chapel in the forest.

~*~*~

The next day, in the early evening, a great grey wolf trotted past the chapel and to a large stone half-hidden in the bushes. With practised effort, he set his powerful furry shoulder to the stone and overturned it.

It was chiselled hollow. And it contained nothing. Not even the waxed linen bag that kept Agapito’s clothes, purse, dagger, and other effects safe from the damp.

In anguish, the wolf circled the spot three times, his whimpers growing more and more piteous, until at last he put his nose to the hollow stone, and smelt the scent he had dreaded to perceive, and another. He followed them to the other end of the chapel, and found the hoofprints of two horses. Swiftly he traced the prints and the horses’ scents to the edge of the forest, and thence to the edge of his own property.

Then, he could no longer cling to any doubt that he had been betrayed.

At once the wolf turned back to the forest, for he dared not linger in the farmland and fields, and as he fled into the dusk, his grey coat blurring into the greys and greens of the forest that would now be his home forever, his heart seemed to shatter within him.

In the manor house, the one whom he had married swiftly dismantled his clothing so that it would burn more readily on the fire in their bedchamber.

All that night, and the next, the forest echoed with a dreadful howling.

Few folk heard it, but those who did shivered, and pulled their loved ones closer.

~*~*~

The lady Genoveffa was slow to announce to her servants and tenants that her husband had disappeared. As she explained to them, and as they had reasoned themselves, he was so frequently away on business that she had not worried, at first, when he was gone for a little longer than usual. But once a whole week had passed without his return, it became clear that something was amiss, and though the grounds and the nearby forest were searched and many inquiries made, no trace of Sir Agapito could be found.

Lady Genoveffa did not weep, but sent to her old friend Sir Baldovino for aid. The knight brought three of his own servants to assist in the search, and still Sir Agapito, be he alive or dead, remained missing.

During this time, two weeks after Sir Agapito had left, a messenger from King Damiano arrived at Lady Genoveffa’s house to ask if Sir Agapito would care to visit the king for a hunting trip, and returned to the king’s castle with the news that Agapito was missing. Immediately, the king himself postponed all his business and rode with his best trackers and hunters to the area, and for nearly two weeks they searched and made inquiries until they were exhausted; but any trail that Agapito might have left had long disappeared, and no one could tell anything of the man.

At last, almost one month after Sir Agapito was last seen, even the king concluded that he would be seen no more, and all searching ceased.

King Damiano returned to his castle, and his tears fell on his horse’s saddle all the way.

~*~*~

A few weeks afterwards, the king’s friend and counsellor, Sir Tancredi, found King Damiano on the battlements, regarding the rolling farmland that surrounded his castle, about an hour before sunset.

“My lord,” Tancredi said, “did you hear that Lady Genoveffa has married Sir Baldovino?”

The king looked at him sharply in surprise, and, after a moment, he asked, “When?”

“Five days ago, I believe,” said the knight.

Murmured the king, “So soon …”

Sir Tancredi shrugged his shoulders and said, “I suppose it is hard, for someone who has been married, to be alone.”

“We had but recently called off the search,” said the king lowly.

“Lady Genoveffa and Sir Baldovino have been friends for many years,” said Sir Tancredi. “Perhaps it was Agapito’s wish.”

The king gazed over the late Summer fields, full of the sounds of birds and insects and the contented lowing of cattle, and was silent for a time.

At last he said, “Is it strange that she, his wife, should remarry so soon, while I, his friend, grieve him still? Tell me, Tancredi, is it strange?”

“No, my lord. A husband is a role to fill; it is a duty, a position, like knight or king or page or parent. But a friend is a person. A person whom we may love for who they are, not what they are. She lost a husband; the role can be filled by another. But you lost a friend. As did I.”

The king hung his head, then shook it. “I thought Agapito loved her. And she him.”

Sir Tancredi shrugged again. “I suppose they did love each other. Perhaps she also loved Sir Baldovino. Who knows? In the end, if she is happy, what does it matter?”

The king sighed deeply, and leaned on the battlements.

“I suppose it does not,” he said.

~*~*~

A year passed.

King Damiano often went hunting, and one day in early Autumn he chanced to hunt in the forest that lay to the North of Sir Agapito’s old manor, now given to another knight to run, after Lady Genoveffa chose to leave it and live with her new husband. He did not often hunt there, but the hounds quickly found a scent which excited them greatly, and the hunt began to pursue it.

Eventually, they caught sight of their quarry: an enormous grey wolf.

The wolf ran cleverly, doubling back and leading them over difficult terrain, so that their horses quickly tired, and every time they caught a glimpse of him every hunter was astonished by his size.

As the hunt continued, they began to marvel at his intelligence, for he ran as though he understood how they would attempt to follow him, and where they could not go.

They despaired of ever catching him, and the king was about to call off the hunt and let all turn their weary horses toward home, when, even as the hounds sought him ahead, the wolf himself appeared out of the trees on a hillside to the king’s left. The king’s breath hitched, and he opened his mouth to call to his fellow hunters, but the wolf, panting from his exertions, walked calmly toward him. As the king tried to control his frightened horse, the wolf halted a few paces before the king, and stretched out his forelegs, lowering his chest almost to the ground and laying his jaw on his forelegs, as though bowing deeply to the king.

At this extraordinary behaviour, the king hesitated. The wolf arose, took another step forward, and bowed again, repeating the gesture until he reached the king’s stirrup, upon which he laid his head and began to fawn upon the king’s boot. The king’s horse would not tolerate this, and danced away, but the king was astounded by the wolf’s behaviour, and immediately called off the hunt, giving orders for the hounds and most of the hunters to return home ahead, while he and Sir Tancredi and two others lagged far behind, for the king wished to see what the strange wolf would do.

And indeed, the wolf continued to be extraordinary, for it kept pace with the four riders, just far enough away to keep their horses from panicking at its presence.

When the party stopped to lodge for the night, reuniting with the rest of the hunting party, the wolf slipped away into the night, and the king and his companions had little expectation of seeing the creature again; but when, the next morning, they mounted their horses to return to the castle, the wolf reappeared, standing aloof until the king once again ordered the hounds and most of the party to progress ahead; whereupon the wolf, once again, kept pace with the king and his three companions.

They reached the castle safely, and, to the astonishment of all, the wolf followed the king calmly into the courtyard, and sat down within the castle walls.

Many remarked that it was a strange hunt indeed, that had yielded nothing but a live wolf!

~*~*~

That night, King Damiano would have let the wolf sleep in the kennels or stables, but the other animals fretted and barked and growled at the presence of the beast, and would not calm down in the least until he had left their sight and scent; so the wolf was called into the courtyard, and slept amongst some lavender bushes at the foot of the castle wall.

The wolf made no attempt to leave the castle courtyard, nor to cause any trouble therein. In the morning, when the king went to see if the wolf remained within the walls, the wolf greeted him by nuzzling his hand, and followed him like a dog.

The king questioned his own wisdom in treating a wild animal thus, but fed the great beast because he was so charming.

From that day on, the wolf scarcely left King Damiano’s side; the creature lay at the king’s feet while the king worked at his desk or sat reading, accompanied him when he walked, and lay behind the king’s chair at meetings.

The people of the castle soon found that the wolf would come when called to, and they addressed him simply as ‘lupo’: ‘wolf’.

In fact, the wolf’s behaviour to all was so gentle, even polite, that within a month almost every human in the castle viewed him as a guest, the king’s special pet. After the first week, as the wolf’s behaviour continued to be flawless and mild, and the weather became more chill and the animals in the stables still loathed the wolf’s presence, King Damiano called the wolf to sleep indoors, in the fire-warmed great hall. Two weeks after that, he invited the wolf to sleep on a rug in the king’s own bedchamber; and though the servants were a little nervous at the prospect, in the end, those who cared for the king were pleased, for who would dare to venture harm upon the king when a full-grown wolf lay on the floor beside his bed?

Gradually, Lupo even befriended the horses of the castle, for he kept his distance and behaved meekly, gradually drawing closer as the horses became more accustomed to his presence, until at last, after many weeks, he was able to move among them and greet them gently, and loped beside the king’s horse when he rode.

The king placed a richly carved leather collar on the wolf, covered in crowns and the king’s arms, so that all would know that Lupo was no wild beast to be shot but was the king’s pet. Indeed, the king, a lover of dogs, found himself giving the wolf tidbits from his own plate, though the wolf never begged for them, and fondling the thick ruff, and even kissing the great furry muzzle, as though the wolf were his childhood companion and not an enigmatic wild creature.

~*~*~

It was the king’s custom to host a great feast in the midst of Winter, lighting candles and drinking wine to spite the snow and mud and darkness. Among the guests who were always invited were Lady Genoveffa and Sir Baldovino, but this year the lady was ill and remained at home.

The great hall was filled with light and warmth, and the happy chatter and greetings of the entering guests, as the servants filled the tables with gleaming, steaming dishes. News of the king’s pet wolf and his extraordinary conduct had spread, and many of the guests were eager to see him for themselves, though others were nervous, for a wild wolf is still a wild wolf even when it wears a collar and sits elegantly beside its chosen master.

“I have never trained him,” King Damiano said, to those who asked. “He is free to leave and free to stay. He has the run of the castle; though the dogs dislike him, so we try to keep them apart.”

The meal had not yet begun, and all was well, until the moment after the knight Baldovino entered. The most hideous snarling and raving filled the room, as the wolf bounded between the clusters of guests and hurled himself at Baldovino’s throat. It was all the guards could do to keep him off the knight without harming him. The king seized the wolf’s collar, and, with great effort and the assistance of several others, managed to haul him away.

The wolf’s face was contorted with rage, every fearsome tooth showing, black-lipped jaws slavering, his golden eyes filled with baleful ire. Never before had he behaved thus, and the king was shocked more than any other.

For the sake of his guests, King Damiano reluctantly ordered that the wolf be taken outside and restrained in the stables. The guards obeyed, handling him roughly in their fear of the great beast who could turn so savage so unpredictably.

The king apologised profusely to Sir Baldovino, and to the rest of his guests, and the evening was not entirely spoiled, though the king was mortified that his famous pet had betrayed its charming reputation in so hideous and terrifying a fashion.

In the morning, King Damiano visited Lupo in his cage in the stables, but he would not allow him to be released until a few days later, when all the guests had returned to their homes. During this time the wolf displayed only his mildest, most humble behaviour, and the king decided to allow him his freedom once more; but he eyed the wolf sternly before he unlatched the cage door.

“You must never,” he said to the enormous grey creature, “attack anyone again.”

The wolf bowed low.

And the king was happier to release him than he cared to admit to anyone.

Only Sir Tancredi realised, after the feast was over, that Baldovino had been wearing a beautiful doublet, embroidered all over in blue and silver and green, that had previously belonged to Sir Agapito.

~*~*~

When Spring came, King Damiano desired to tour part of his lands and visit with some of his subjects. His travels took him to a manor next to that of Baldovino and Genoveffa, and, as the lady Genoveffa had missed the traditional midwinter feast, she desired to see the king and visit him. She dressed beautifully, and rode with her handmaiden to the neighbouring manor where the king and his retinue were lodged.

As ever, Lupo lay at the side of his chosen master’s chair, but the moment Lady Genoveffa was shown into the room his hackles rose, and he leapt at her with a hateful roar, his great teeth bared and aimed at her throat. But a guard standing in the room beside the door had seen the wolf’s hackles rising and had anticipated his attack, and threw his shoulder into the wolf’s chest at the same time as the lady recoiled, so that the huge beast barely touched the woman. Every guard and knight in the room seized the wolf and held him, forcing him to the floor, though he thrashed and snarled.

Even so, Genoveffa howled in pain and held her hands to her face. When she pulled them away, her palms and fingers were bloody, and her mouth and chin ran scarlet: the wolf’s teeth had torn her lower lip.

The king was beside himself. Once again, his beloved Lupo had turned brutal and untrustworthy without warning.

The lady’s maid guided her out of the room, and a servant was sent to summon the nearest healer. King Damiano stared down at his precious wolf, his hand on his dagger and his brow darkly furrowed. Lupo, still held down by half a dozen people, began to whine softly, as though in apology, and all his struggling ceased.

“I told you never to do that again,” the king cried, as though the wolf could understand him, though he was less sure than ever that this was so.

“My lord, he is too dangerous!” exclaimed one of the guards, and others in the room agreed with him. All knew how the king loved his wolf, and all who knew the wolf were charmed by him, but a creature of such size and power with a violence so unpredictable must be a danger to all.

King Damiano’s hand tightened on his dagger’s hilt.

He remembered the meek bow that Lupo had given him in the stables, when the king told him never to attack again.

He also remembered the utter suddenness, and the sheer fury, of the two times the beast had attacked.

Rulers may love many things, but their greatest love must be their subjects, or they are unworthy to rule. A sovereign must always value the safety of his people above any person or creature he personally loves.

Tears came to the king’s eyes, and he drew his dagger.

“Wait,” urged Sir Tancredi, and rose from helping to restrain the now-still wolf. He approached the king and drew him aside, speaking lowly. “My lord, the wolf has lived with us for more than half a year. Only twice has he ever shown savagery, and only to two people: the lady Genoveffa and her second husband. Why those two? … My lord, surely you have realised from the start that Lupo is not a normal wolf. And you know that he was found in the forest to the North of the manor that belonged to Agapito, the forest in which Agapito went missing, not two months before Lady Genoveffa married Sir Baldovino.”

The king stared at his friend. Of course he knew all these things, but any connection between them seemed far-fetched indeed.

“I suggest,” murmured Sir Tancredi, “that you ask the lady, and Sir Baldovino, if they know anything they are not telling. Anything that the wolf, perchance, also knows.”

~*~*~

So it was that the wolf was kept in kennels, and not permitted into any other of the manor houses that the king visited in the following weeks, until the king’s travels ended and he returned to his own castle. The lady Genoveffa and the knight Baldovino had been ordered to report to the king the morning after he returned to his residence, and so they did. Genoveffa’s face was still bandaged, and her countenance was wan and haunted; with the help of her husband, and with sparse, lisping speech, she told the king that she had recently endured a fever as a result of the wound in her lip, and begged to be allowed to return to her home as soon as possible. Sir Baldovino looked anxious and weary, like one who carries fearful secrets and is afraid of more trouble.

The king wasted no time, but, with Sir Tancredi, bluntly questioned the pair as to why Lupo should attack them and no one else. They pleaded utter ignorance, but when Tancredi mentioned that Lupo had followed the king home from the forest in which Genoveffa’s first husband had gone missing, and remarked that the wolf’s conduct and bearing were astonishingly different from what one would expect from a wild animal, and observed that Sir Baldovino had been wearing the missing man’s clothing when Lupo attacked him, the fear on their faces showed that they knew some terrible truth.

As pallid as she could be, the lady sank to her knees, nearly fainting; and when she could speak she stuttered out what she and Baldovino had done.

Sir Baldovino knelt also, with hanging head, and confirmed the lady’s story, speaking for her when she could not continue.

When he had heard the full story, the king slapped each of them across the face with all his force, not caring for Genoveffa’s torn mouth. Then he demanded that any remaining clothes of Sir Agapito’s be brought to him immediately.

Two riders on swift horses were sent with the king’s orders to the manor of Sir Baldovino, and the perplexed servants hastened to bring every item in Baldovino’s personal wardrobe to the messengers, who bundled it all up — every undergarment, hat, and shoe — and returned with it that very evening.

Meanwhile, the king paced uneasily, and sought to distract himself with work. Several times he desired to address Lupo, to question the wolf, but he knew not what to ask nor to say, so strange did the whole affair seem; and he thought, moreover, that if the wolf really were Agapito, the transformed knight had made no attempt to reveal himself to the king or anyone else, and perhaps he had his reasons for it; yet this silence on Agapito’s part did not mean that the king would not attempt to offer the wolf the chance to change his form.

The guilty pair were held under guard in one chamber of the castle, while Lupo was kept well away from them, and all guards were warned not to let him anywhere near the prisoners; and though the wolf made no effort to approach his hated enemies, King Damiano could tell by the wolf’s glances and the rising of his hackles that Lupo knew that they were in the castle.

The clothes were presented to Baldovino and Genoveffa, who singled out several garments that had belonged to Sir Agapito. These were taken to a different room, and there laid before the wolf.

But Lupo looked at the clothes, then turned his gaze on King Damiano, long and steady, as though trying to convey something to him; and after a moment the king realised that the wolf could not bring himself to transform in front of others.

“My lord,” Sir Tancredi began, but the king interjected.

“I know. Come with us, Tancredi.”

The king himself gathered up the clothes, and, calling Lupo to follow him, led the way to his own bedchamber, with Sir Tancredi following behind. He and Tancredi laid out the garments on the floor of the room, as the wolf watched gravely. Then, glancing at the wolf’s face but not daring to speak, they left, locking the door behind them.

Said the king, “Tancredi, let no one enter this room for half an hour.”

The knight nodded his approval and assent, and took the key that King Damiano handed to him. Then he asked lowly, “My lord, what will you do to punish Baldovino and Genoveffa?”

“If Lupo is indeed Agapito,” the king murmured, “I will let him choose what punishment best suits the ones who hurt him. I doubt that there is any precedent in law for a case like this.”

~*~*~

At last, Agapito was left alone with his clothes. He had not seen these garments in more than a year and a half, and they retained not his own scent but reeked of Baldovino, yet he had recognised them at once.

Overjoyed, he lay on his belly and nudged his snout between the lower hems of a linen undershirt, working his head and forepaws through the body of the shirt toward the collar, as he had done so many times in the past. As his muzzle emerged from the collar of the shirt, he felt his head and neck warp and reshape themselves, his fur dissolving, snout receding, teeth and tongue shrinking, his ears travelling down to the sides of his head, his hearing dulling, while his almighty sense of smell seemed nearly to vanish. He blinked, and his eyes ached as they once again beheld the colours of the world in a way he had almost forgotten. His neck shrank, leaving the king’s leather collar hanging loose against his chest, under the shirt. He could hear his own breathing, and it was human breathing; his heartbeat was a human’s heartbeat.

Agapito could have wept for joy; instead, he concentrated on pushing his right forepaw through the nearest sleeve of the shirt. He felt his fingers split and lengthen, his thumb regrow, and his claws flatten and shrink into fingernails. He did the same with his left forepaw on the other side, and gasped and winced as his chest and shoulders shifted their positions and his spine and ribs changed shape. Now his upper half was a man, while from the waist down he was wolf, his hindlegs couched while he lay on his chest with his cheek on the floor. With unsteady hands, he tugged the skirt of the undershirt down toward his hips, and his belly changed shape and became hairless, the rearranging of his guts making him queasy, as it ever had.

He realised that he had his shirt on backwards, for the king and Tancredi had laid out the clothes so that they faced the wolf, but it did not matter. Agapito reached clumsily for a pair of braes and took hold of them, then rolled onto his side, and, after several attempts, managed to get his hindpaws through the leg-holes. This act was always ticklish, for he could feel his paw pads becoming the soles of his feet, the sudden shift of hocks into knees, the sensation of his fur being rubbed the wrong way as he pulled the braes up to his waist, and, at last, his tail disappearing from the tip to the root as it shrank back into a man’s tailbone.

Sir Agapito lay panting for a moment, dressed in only his under-layers, shivering in his sudden lack of fur, for strangely he now felt more naked while wearing clothes than he did when covered only in thick fur. He pulled a hand up to his face and stared at it, for it had been so long since he had seen his own hands.

Agapito touched his own face, and almost wept. Eyebrows, nose, forehead, cheeks, eyelids, jaw — all were there and as they should be.

After some minutes, he dragged himself into a sitting position, with some difficulty, for it was much more awkward to sit on his buttocks as a man than it was as a wolf; and thence to his feet; but he staggered with a groan, and clutched at the bedpost to keep himself from falling, while his other hand kept his untied braes from slipping to the floor. The transformation had always wearied him, but this one seemed worse even than his first. Unsteady and feeble, Agapito felt unsure if he remembered how to be a human, and his entire body — every muscle and bone and inch of skin — held a vague, dull ache. As the bed was before him, he dropped himself onto it, intending to rest for a few moments before attempting to stand again.

So Agapito lay unmoving on his side, feeling a little faint. Fabric, not fur, lay against his skin once more. Slowly he tied a crude knot in the drawstring of his braes. The carved leather collar still hung, fastened but loose, around his neck, beneath his shirt; it was uncomfortable, so he exerted himself to pull it out of the neck of the shirt and over his head.

Then, supremely weary, he lay still, and so exhausted was he from the ordeal — for he had remained in his wolf form not for three days but more than a year and a half — that he passed rapidly into a deep sleep.

~*~*~

After half an hour of anxious waiting, the king asked Tancredi and another trusted knight to accompany him into his bedchamber.

Sir Tancredi unlocked the door, and knocked quietly upon it, but there was no sound from within the chamber. He grasped the door handle, glanced at the king, and, at the king’s nod, quietly opened the door, uncertain as to what they would find.

On the king’s carved and tapestried bed, wearing only linen undershirt and braes, lay, half-curled on his side, and very still, a man with curly dark-brown hair. The wolf’s carved leather collar lay above his head on the pillow, still fastened in a circle, while the other garments remained on the floor as they had been laid.

King Damiano froze, then rushed to the bedside and halted there, tentative, followed by his knights. “Agapito?” he whispered.

The man on the bed did not stir, though his slow breathing was apparent. But the longer he stared at the man’s face, the more certain the king was that this was his old friend whom he had grieved as dead. He was sure that he even recognised the hands, the hair, the throat.

The man did not seem to be injured or diseased, just very soundly asleep.

But was he still right in his own mind, the king wondered.

“Agapito?” the king murmured, and reached out to nudge the man’s shoulder.

Still the man did not move, so deeply asleep was he.

King Damiano laid his hand on the man’s upper arm and shook it gently, calling, “Agapito!”

And then the man’s eyes opened, and he saw the king, and smiled through his weariness, recognising him, and they were Agapito’s brown eyes and Agapito’s smile; and the king seized him in an embrace and kissed his now-human face over and over, weeping for joy. And Sir Tancredi, who was customarily a man of sober countenance, beamed as he had not done in years.

“Why did you not try to tell us who you were?” the king asked, once he had made sure that Agapito was well. “Could you not do it?”

“I was … afraid,” Agapito admitted huskily, with unflowing speech. “I knew you thought me dead, and I feared you would not believe me.

“Besides, this way … I could stay near you. I was safe and cared-for. … While I was with you, as a wolf, I need never confront what my wife did to me. I need never think of how … how the woman I loved betrayed me and took my life so easily, so swiftly. I could pretend … that all was well. That I was naught but a wolf, a tame creature, loved and petted and enjoyed.

“It was only when I saw them in person … her and Baldovino … that I lost control of myself.”

Agapito’s voice was rough and rasping from lack of use, and his body shivering and clumsy as after a long illness, and so, after only a little conversation, the king helped the exhausted man into his bed and laid the covers over him, and he and his knights left him to sleep.

King Damiano and Sir Tancredi went to the room where the lady Genoveffa and knight Baldovino were being held under guard, and told them that their victim had returned to his human form and would be given the right to decide their punishments.

“If I were to choose,” said the king, “I would execute you both. You stole Agapito’s life from him, betraying him as if to a living death.”

“My lord,” begged Genoveffa, kneeling, and mumbling through her bandaged and painful mouth, “please do not keep me here. Please let me return home under guard.”

The king vehemently denied her request, and the lady began to weep most piteously, and to plead like one condemned to death. At last, Sir Baldovino could hold his tongue no longer, and confessed that Lady Genoveffa was now a werewolf. Her transformation was expected tomorrow.

When the king had recovered from his surprise, Sir Tancredi suggested that on the following morning the lady Genoveffa be removed to the stables for her transformation; and the king agreed, ordering her to be kept as far away from the animals as could be managed, and guarded at all times.

The king and Sir Tancredi left the room, and King Damiano began to order that preparations be made to return all of Sir Agapito’s lands and possessions to him, but Tancredi said, “My lord, I ask you to reconsider. It may be that Agapito would prefer not to return to his old estate.”

“Then I shall give him a new and better one,” the king declared; but again his friend stopped him, and regarded him with meaningful expression.

“My lord, perhaps Agapito would prefer to remain in your court indefinitely, as I do.”

King Damiano seized him in an embrace, kissed his forehead and cheek, and exclaimed, “Tancredi, you are the best of men. It is you who have saved Agapito, despite my stupidity; and for this I owe you more than I can repay.”

For the second time that day, Tancredi smiled most joyfully, as he returned the embrace of his friend the king.

That night, Agapito’s favourite dishes were served, at the king’s order; — though when he sent his message to the cooks, he found that Sir Tancredi had already given them the same instruction.

The king bade Agapito sit at his right hand, and all the court noticed how he could not stop embracing and kissing him. And Sir Agapito’s tired but euphoric smile illuminated the whole room.

~*~*~*~*~

The End.

G. Wulfing.

August 2022 to March 2023.

#G. Wulfing #short story #bisclavret #fairy tales #fairytale retelling #werewolf #fantasy #long post #fiction #cw blood #cw violence #cw animal attack #The Tale Of Agapito The Werewolf

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e-m-p-error · 10 months

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“I take it thessssse sort of…fighting pits are something you partake in often?” Sir Pentious raising an eyebrow toward the demon King Paimon with a vaguely scrutinizing look. “Musssst’ve had a bloody roaring good time in Ancient Rome, I imagine.” @dark-ambition (Sir Pentious to Paimon)

[ Paimon ]

The owl paused, glancing at the silly noodle beside him. Of course, he partook in them often!

"Naturally! They're better than anything you could find on the television. Though I do like a few gameshows on Voxflix. One of my favorites is Shark Tank With Real Sharks. Valentino and Velvette seem like the fun sort, they don't even listen to the pitches sometimes! Just drop demons straight into the shark pit! Oh, it's delightful!"

His feathers ruffled up as he hooted in joy, clapping as his eyes closed and his grin grew wide.

"Ancient Rome was positively thrilling. You'll never guess who my human disguises were." The statement is very quickly followed by more clapping and another hoot, "I was a personal advisor and close friend to Emperors Nero, Caligula, and Tiberius. It was I who suggested Jesus be crucified." And he sounded so smug about it.

#It’s Best To Keep Me Pleased (Answered Asks)#Define Your Meaning Of War To Me It’s What We Do When We’re Bored (ραιмσи)#(Paimon and Sir Pentious - Dark-Ambition)#cw blasphemy #cw religion #cw violence mention #cw animal attack

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cyandocs · 9 months

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Shit so my brother and I walk his dog (Zero) every day and RIGHT when we're just about to get home our neighbors dog- who's been problematically unleashed before but usually caught by his owners- ran up and just. Latched on to Zero's back. My brother always picks him up so the other one didn't get his neck or anything, but we don't know the dogs history which can be scary, thankfully Zero is vaccinated but he's still hurt and his dewclaw got all messed up.

We're currently waiting for my dad to get back because he has the car so we can get my brother (who got bit) to urgent care and Zero to the vet

And I feel bad because other people (our neighbors and my childhood friend actually) had to intervene and all I did was stand stock still, yell or throw something. I'm usually the type to lighten stuff up but it's hitting me now.

The worst part is my brother is crying because the guy "watching" the other dog was so slow to respond and he doesn't want the other dog to get in trouble just because they had a bad owner.

LEASH YOUR DOGS

#text post #cw animal attack #leash your dogs #I froze #my brother was wearing slippers that fell off so I threw them at the dog #which was uneventful #just happened #adrenaline

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we-lose-control-of-the-moment · 1 year

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“Did you do that on purpose?” from Terrance or Mason

Physical Contact Starters

[ Mason ]

[ Mike ]

"Hey, I--"

Straightening up a little more, Mike's eyes turned hard as he dusted off the front of his shirt. Snow stuck to it, and he had no idea when his jacket had abandoned him. It probably had something to do with the fucking werewolf he'd been hunting all night.

Soaked, freezing, and frustrated, he probably looked like an angry puppy right now. After noticing that Mike's chase had ended, he was soon joined by the rest of his pack, Duke and Wolfie trudging over to stand beside him. Duke's hackles raised, and Mike's hand dropped down to soothe him.

"Shhh, Buddy, it's okay." He thought as much, anyway, "I don't answer to you." This, he directed at the other man, "But uh. For the record, tonight's gone... Not so according to plan." Turning to glance over his shoulder, he felt Duke stiffen at his side, and Wolfie's head lowered, "So, yeah, no. Not exactly. Shit's harder than I remember. Snow makes it..."

A sigh.

"Fucking ridiculous." Not to mention his back was acting up. Gritting his teeth through the pain only worked for so long.

#(Mike Munroe)#(Mike and Mason - xRainbowxMusesx)#cw supernatural #cw werewolf #cw hunting #cw chronic pain #cw chronic injury #cw animal attack #I think? Just to be safe

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chrollohearttags · 1 month

Text

good girls finish last • e. jaeger

your best friend was always adamant that he’d have you and he follows through on it in a huge way.

word count: 2.3K

black fem!reader, heavy dom!eren (he’s yandere if you squint), PWOP, overstimulation, back licking, squirting, reader calls him daddy, calls reader princess, growling/marking, orgasm denial. he speaks German/Italian, many other themes I don’t feel like listing

in case you all were wondering what inspired this: enjoy! 🫶🏾

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“Mmmm!…please..”

“Shhh, keep your voice down, baby. I won’t say it again..”

the deep vibrato rang out in your ear in almost a growl like tone..his voice tantalizing and almost honey like as it deeper into your brain. He was trouble..that you had always known since the day you met him. Your best friend of several years, even when everyone else told you otherwise. However, that was of no consequence. Especially when you were certain that he was the only man for you. Someone who saw your flaws as perfections, who thought the world of you even when you seemed insignificant. It was more than what could be said of the man who had you before..hence why he was now there to pick up the pieces.

“..don’t talk, just breathe..that’s all you need to do right now. Just focus on my voice..” the command simultaneous with the sounds and sensation of his thick, warm fingertips fluidly moving in and out of your warmth. Your slick building up on the hilt of his knuckles as he flexed his wrist. His tattooed digits and arm were already decorated in the remnants of your previous orgasms and he was looking to add more to the collection. “I—I just..this isn’t right..we shouldn’t be doing this.” A statement only followed by that same maniacal laughter you had heard many times before and a soft clutch around your throat. “And why is that? Hmm..scared that he’s gonna walk in here? Good, let him see what a real man is supposed to do.” Even so, your chest couldn’t help but to heave with every delicate, calculated movement he made. Working your cunt over with the most intricate of strokes. He occasionally uses his free hand to squeeze your throat or grope your tits that were pulled from your tank top. That thong dangling at your ankles and your plaid skirt flipped up to expose your lower half..he was enjoying this! All of it far more than he should’ve but he couldn’t help himself, really. Eren had been in love with you since the two of you first became acquainted. Those beautiful lips, those thighs and pretty dark skin he found so perfect..the best part was? It was all his!…regardless of how many losers you allowed into your life. You were his lady, forever and always. And he’d make certain that everyone knew it. Removing that hand from your throat, he’d quickly replace it with a trail of gentle kisses. As well as the slight drudge of his teeth up the sensitive skin.

“Don’t you get it? We were always supposed to be together. Just me and you against the world, princess. That’s what you told me, right?” Your answer seemingly coming a moment too late for him, as he snatched your head around to meet his gaze. “Right?!” “Ah!—yes! Yes, daddy..” the name inciting more of a fire in him than before. Truth be told, he knew you liked it. You loved it, in fact. That much apparent by the subtle smirk on your face. “Look at you fucking smiling..admit it, mama. You never loved him. You were only pretending. You always were such a people pleaser..my good girl.” His voice dropped even lower as his fingers elevated to your g-spot once more. Pressing on the fleshy pad and making you writhe in his grasp. You were as good as stuck..you wouldn’t leave this spot. This bed where you and your ex had consummated your relationship several times. And not once did it ever bring you the thrill and rush that fucking Eren did. The way he spoke to you, held you close and made you feel as if he existed solely for you.

“But that’s why I’m here…you don’t have to appease anyone. You can be selfish with me, baby. Give in to what you really want…so tell me..what is that? Tell me what you want me to do…” all the while, his movements became sped up and you were clawing at his tattooed forearm; mere seconds from climaxing whilst he coaxed you through it. “C’mon, closed mouths don’t get fed, princess. Talk to me..” just as smooth as ever and devilish as well. He always had such a way with words and knew exactly how to articulate them to get his wishes. Maybe that’s why so many people despised the cocky brunette. Because he was the total package, head to toe. But an asshole to his core. Still, that didn’t mean shit to him..or you! Through your lens, he was picture perfect and nothing could change that. Working those digits in and out, you’d finally screech and yelp, unable to keep your voice lowered and in response, all he could do was laugh. Knowing that you were trying so hard to spare the feelings of someone you shouldn’t have. You’d quickly cup your hand over your mouth but to no avail.

“Aww, what’s the matter? Don’t want your ‘man’ to hear us? Hear me playing with this lil’ pussy? Afraid it might break his little heart? You’re so considerate..” sarcastically stroking the side of your face with a lilt in his tone. But there was simply no need for you to be so courteous. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. He’s with another bitch right now. Somewhere laid up with a girl who couldn’t even think of competing with you. So why hold back, baby? Why are you trying to fight what’s meant to be for his sake?”

in a moment of haste, Eren retracted his fingers and used them momentarily to pacify your cries. He’d work them in between your jaws and meanwhile, usher you onto all fours. Prompting you to arch your back. Just as quickly, he’d tug those sweatpants down and remove his shirt in the process. He could feel you teeming right on the edge of climatic bliss but he was selfish. He needed to reach that point with you…to feel every bit and part of you as you made it to that point. Once he freed his stiff cock from those boxers, he’d align himself with your slit and immediately begin slapping it against your folds. Leaning down, he’d lace your shoulder blades with those same markings on your neck; biting gently into your flesh like a predator claiming its sweet little prey. Grunting and moaning into your ear how gorgeous you were and how he couldn’t wait to beat your pussy up. You were so delicate, soft and pretty. But he couldn’t help but to defile you..to make you a product of his sick perversions. He’d dreamed of the nights that he could pound this little pussy into oblivion. Making you cream on his shaft until you left him an utter mess..going deep until he forced you to squirt all over him and then shortly after, breed you so that he was with you in more ways than one. Having vivid daydreams of your belly swollen with his kid..it was the ultimate sign of possession!

“Fuck me, Eren! I can’t take it…” “..now where’s those manners you love so much? Say please..” there was that slick mouth. You always loved it when you weren’t the one on the receiving end but seeing as you were about to combust, you were feeding into it. “Please, daddy. I need it so bad..need you to make me come, right now..”

grasping at the sheets beneath you, you’d feel a sharp sting when his palm collided with your asscheek before those same fingers laced your throat. Eren never did like being told what to do but for you?…he could possibly overlook it.

“Shhhh! pazienza, amore mio..” pushing a finger to your lips.

the switch in dialect sending a pang to your stomach. You were always so fond of the fact that he was trilingual, being the son of immigrants. He’d tested it out on you earlier in the night as his tongue drudged between your folds and lapped at your clit. He’d begin complimenting your flavor and scent in his native languages; letting the words ooze like honey.

“We’ll get there when I say so..” suddenly, you’d feel yourself become full as he impaled you on his cock. Shoving that girthy, long member into that swollen heat. It was no time before you acclimated, despite his massive size. It was almost as if you designed just for him. “Ahh…so fucking tight. Just like old times..when you’d sneak out of class or practice, just to come fuck me. Ooh..that pussy felt so good..” Referring to your high school days when you were just alike. Delinquents and deviants only caring about each other. Fast forward and you were trying to get your act together. In college, new job, and supposedly a new man. However, old habits die hard and he was a hell of a one to crack. “You used to be such a slut f’r me. Let’s see if you still have it in you..” mocking whilst he smacked your ass repeatedly, telling you to meet his thrusts. The collision of that plump backside driving him crazy, especially when you reached back voluntarily and spread yourself open; glancing back with a smirk on your face. “Mmm..like that?” “Fuuuck..yeah, there’s my nasty lil’ bitch. Here..open up.” In one fell swoop, Eren tugged your head back and your jaw would fall slack; opening your enough for him to fill it with spit which made you giggle in return.

“Mmm, thank you, daddy..” he couldn’t help but to twitch each time you uttered the moniker. It always did sound so much sexier when you said. “You’re so welcome, princess..thank you for being so patient. I know you wanna come so bad. I want you to..” as he persisted with his speech, his strokes became a bit more sped up. The sounds of clapping flesh growing louder as well as your moans.

“ ‘Rennn…oh my God..” “..that’s right, baby. Pray to me, worship this fucking dick like you used to.” Commanding that you take it. Tightening his grip on the back of your neck, he’d force (y/n) face down, flat on the mattress in a prone position. Now, he could go as fast as he pleased without you faltering. “I’m the only one that can make you feel this good. The fuck were you thinking give my pussy to these fuck ass little boys? Are you crazy?” Seemingly switching his demeanor midway. That side of him always did scare you. But he’d never even so much as entertain the thought of hurting his princess. The only pain he wanted to cause you was consensual and pleasure filled. The kind you’d beg for.

“Nnngh, I’m so sorry, daddy. I’m so fucking sorry..” your voice high pitched and wailing as he pounded you mercilessly. You couldn’t take another minute of this. Your bladder felt as if it were going up burst, your eyes rolling back and tears staining your cheek. But he was inconsolable, thinking about another man in this bed with you. Being inside of you without a clue of how to make you happy. That was his job and his alone.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…don’t cry. I’m not mad at you..I’m just so disappointed that you’d settle like this..” breaking into yet another chuckle whilst his strokes became sporadic. “Please!..I’m so close..” “I know, I know you are..” leaning down to mark your spine with kisses as he lifted you back up and to also rattle off in your ear. “..so let’s get you there, pretty girl..” just then, those strokes would reach maximum speed and you’d find yourself trying to brace but you were coming undone! You could barely keep a grasp on those sheets and he was drilling you like no one’s business. Tugging you back to his chest with that same grasp on your throat, Eren kept talking; coaching you through your orgasm. Telling you when you squeeze and hold your muscles. To not release until he gave you explicit permission. Meanwhile, he’d stroke your clit repeatedly until you were nearly convulsing, trying to hold back. You had always trusted him but this teasing was too much to bear. You had to let go right now! And luckily, he wouldn’t keep you waiting for much longer

“Come for me, princess! Come for me..squirt on my dick! Spritz auf meinen Schwanz..” repeating the phrase a couple times more with a heavy growl and with that accent peeking through, you’d fall apart right there in his grasp, releasing a puddle onto his cock and the linen. You were finished; completely spent and on the brink of collapse. But he was quick to hold you in place and steal one last peck from those pretty lips.

“I love you..I love you so fucking much..you hear me? Don’t you ever leave me again..” his voice faint through his seemingly overwhelming amounts of emotions. He was so happy that you were back where you belonged. In his arms, in his life. Maybe being a goody two shoes got you nowhere and you’d gotten your heart broken trying to do the right thing…

“I love you more, baby..I’m right here..”

and hell, maybe good girls did finish last but if this was what was waiting at the end of the line?

“I’ll never leave you again, Eren. I promise.”

you’d fall behind every time!

@dancingwithdeities @iadoreprettygirls @arminsbbymami

@shamelesshoefairy @chiquititaosita @greenieweeniesworld @ichigosluvrr @thickbihhwitdagapp

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all-my-friends-were-glorious · 2 years

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We're watching you, always watching (Underpants gnomes) (tweek)

[ Tweek + Royce ]

Those tell-tale little voices made Tweek launch off the couch with a shriek that would have put his Turkey Vulture to shame. He jerked around in a wide circle, eyes wide and jumping around the room. Much as they didn’t usually go for height, he knew he was tall now, and that meant ceiling fans, stairs, hutches, the fridge, nothing was safe.

He had every mind to crawl into the refrigerator and wait for Craig to come home, but he was quiet aware of how that was a suffocation hazard.

Teeth clacking together, he quickly grabbed his coat off of the coatrack, he decided to head for the place he’d last known Craig was supposed to be at. Stan’s, if he was right, and otherwise, Stan had a phone. Tweek’s had skidded under the armchair when he’d flipped out, and like Hell was he going to go for that right now.

All those little stabby things, hiding under his furniture--

They’d have to buy a new house.

The damn gnomes were probably living in the walls, in the foundation, they’d learned how to breathe cement, hadn’t they? Certainly they had, there was no way that they wouldn’t. They’d wanted something from Tweek this entire time, but now?

Now, he’d fucked up. He’d ended up being something of a cause of one of their deaths, and he didn’t think he’d survive this. Much less if anyone would even believe him.

For the last few months, he’d gone in half-and-half on his meds and the drugs. While he was still wild, he was doing better, still, than before he’d been medicated. If Craig got to him before the day did, he’d take just his pills that day. It was important to him that he didn’t go completely without them every day, because he didn’t want to ever hear Craig’s voice do that thing again.

Trust Craig to be able to be the one to convince him to get help. Whatever he felt for his parents, his mother had always said that Craig was good for him. Some small part of him thought that was what his father had tried to say, but that bastard didn’t know how to talk without metaphors.

Jesus, he better not come into contact with a single fucking metaphor before he got to Stan’s house, or he was going to lose it.

Once he had his handgun, Rudy, Charon, Storm, Matcha, and Rodeo in his Station Wagon, he double checked to make sure the shotgun was still underneath the seat. Of course it was, he’d asked very specifically that it be kept in case he had an emergency at the shop. Granted, he didn’t know if Craig knew where he kept all of his firearms, or that even if he didn’t have the usual ones, he was still armed to the teeth.

Paranoia really did a number on his bank account, but he could go to a gun show with a hundred dollars and make a killing saying he forgot his wallet at home.

Making sure Storm’s little travel enclosure, as he knew better than to put a tiny cow in a car with a Turkey Vulture without putting her in something, was secured on the floor by the passenger side door, he closed his eyes. Despite his rush to leave, he’d made sure that she’d be safe above all else because he knew Craig would be upset if Charon got her. So far, they’d been fine supervised, but even Tweek didn’t trust it. Birds had instincts, and Guinea Pigs were like leaving a full-course meal in the open with a ‘free’ sign.

Matcha was almost an afterthought, but he had at least remembered to save him from the house. Anything he was doing right now flew right over his own damn head, he was moving too slowly and too quickly at the same time.

Turning the key, he prayed silently with a rushed ‘anyone listening’ at the head of it that the damn thing would start. His life had gone from a quiet night cuddling with Rodeo on the couch with his phone, watching the video he’d had Craig make him the night before... To a Goddamn horror movie in less time than it took him to blink. And he blinked pretty fast most of the time...

At least there wasn’t anything stopping the Wagon from starting up, and he peeled out of their driveway so fast he had to mom-arm Rodeo to keep him from launching into the windshield when he stopped short. Someone honked at him, but he didn’t care, speeding off for Stan’s house like his tires were melting.

The car was barely thrown into park when Tweek abandoned it, still running, in Stan’s driveway. He slammed into a body in the garage, solid as it was, and his eyes lit up before he had a chance to do something about it. A bolt of lightning hit the ground a few scant inches away from them, and he tensed with a shout he hadn’t realized was a clone of the one from about a second ago.

Gnomes weren’t solid, they weren’t this tall, whoever had grabbed him was either Stan, Craig, or some manner of other thing that he didn’t need to think about right now. Devolving into pleas of ‘sorry’ as tears ran trails down his cheeks, he just about climbed the person wrapped around him, hiding his face in their neck when his knees hit his own arms. He had never weighed a whole lot, and seemed content enough to hold up his own weight while using-- Craig, that was Craig, he’d know that cologne anywhere --His lover as some kind of junglegym.

What he thought he probably looked like was that obscenely fat raccoon he and Craig had seen coming back from Denver late one night. It had gotten startled and tried to climb a stop sign twice before abandoning that and booking it into someone’s yard. Someone had said something about Eric (Tweek was willing to bet it had been him), and they had laughed and moved on.

...If that was true, he was one skinny-ass raccoon.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Craig, what the f--” Royce had seen the sudden flash of light from where he sat inside, and had gotten up to wander into the garage and make sure he wasn’t dead. Seeing Tweek, however, he backed up a little bit; Last he checked, he was still on the Bad List with the twitchy blond. Then again, he’d been told that just about everyone ended up on that last with Tweek at some point, because he didn’t like it when people were close to his Craig.

That being said, Tweek hadn’t even seemed to notice him, too busy hiding in Craig’s body like he just might be able to merge them into one being. Leaning back, he glanced towards the kitchen where he could hear Stan washing his hands, and he bit his lip. This was probably something he should mention, right?

It took longer to make the trek back than he liked to admit to, but when he did finally make it to the doorway, he leaned into it. Hooking a thumb over his shoulder, he tried on an uncertain smile.

“Uh, so, yeah, uh... Tweek just showed up? Losing his shit, too. Car’s on, looks like there’s a zoo in it? Big flash of light, too.”

@throughxthexmist

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pie-bean · 1 year

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Nobody asked for it, but here are a couple of close-up pics of fleas!

#ruby was doing exercise while getting attacked by them and dealing with me taking pictures of her inside of her personal space #oh crap i forgot to actually help her with the fleas aslknbgb #cw insects #cw bugs #tw insects #cw fleas #fleas #insects #bugs #acnh #animal crossing #animal crossing new horizons #mine #acnh screenshots #acnh bugs #low poly

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nova-amor · 5 months

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༘☁︎⋆ ◜ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 ◞

you breathed out his name like a whisper, the silk sheets of the bed craddling your trembling form in a soft cocoon of warmth and bliss. your back arched against the bed, forming into a perfect crescent while your toes curled inward and thighs quivered. your hands found purchase of his blonde strands as you fought to remain grounded to the earth, your fingers threading his hair and tugging at the strands in order to stay tethered to the mortal plane.

erwin’s tongue danced around your pretty folds with grace, his icy blue eyes fluttered closed and mellow hums of delight rumbling from the depths of his throat as he consumed every ounce of your being. the wet, flat muscle lapped at the clenching entrance of your cunt before flicking the hood of your clit with the pointy edge. erwin cut into you like a knife, tearing and ripping every scream and whimper from your aching throat with ease.

“erwinn,” you cried, your gummy walls clenching around empty space as he suckled on your clit, the pressure making your head grow dizzy and body faint. his hands were wrapped around your thighs, holding your fragile body in place and preventing you from running away from the wrath of his mouth. “i can’t— i can’t anymore— ‘s too much,” you pleaded.

erwin unlatched his lips from your clit with a soft ‘pop’, his icy blue eyes piercing you like a cold dagger. his bushy eyebrows furrowed in frustration, the grip he had on your thighs tightening. a shiver ran down the length of your spine as you shrunk under his gaze.

“what do you mean ‘s too much?,” erwin spoke through the thick of his teeth, cocking his head to the side. a thick eyebrow quirked up, a look of bewilderment swirling the arctic pools of his gaze. “we’ve just barely started.” he lied.

it had already been an hour or two or maybe three since erwin began his tango with your cunt. time merging together with each orgasm he pulled from your depths. you had lost count how many times he had made you cum with just his tongue, but you knew it had been too many given the aching state of your overstimulated nerves and sopping core.

“erwin— i need a break,” you begged him, his nostrils flaring in a silent protest. “i can’t handle another one; i need a second to breathe,”

erwin’s expression softened, his lips peppering feather light kisses across the landscape of your inner thighs. his cheeks and chin glistened with the sticky, clear nectar of your juices, the scent of sex wafting gently through the air.

“okay, baby, we can take a break,” he promised, the black pools of his eyes drowning out his ocean blue irises. he inched closer to your cunt, his warm breath fanning over your messy lips as his eyes remained locked with yours. “but, you got ‘ta give me one more. we can take a break for as long as you want after, okay? just give me one more. please?”

your folds tingled, your numbed mind buzzing to life. you couldn’t bring yourself to deny erwin, not when he was looking up at you with such big, pleading eyes. “okay ,” you murmured, the corners of his lips curling up into a faint smile. “just one more.”

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5tupidusrnam3 · 19 days

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Dynamite and the uhh animal and the dead people drawing I made with markers!! Yay

#I forgot what type of big cat animal dynamite is oops so I might have drawn something wrong but that just makes it funny #Dynamite and the random big cat that’s about to attack him but he doesn’t know because he’s looking the other way #My art #alcohol markers #traditional art #cw gore #Objectified comic #objectified comic fanart #objectified dynamite #osc #osc art #object show community #Fanart #artists on tumblr #Object show #object shows

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hrokkall · 9 months

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Karma Level 7

Another attack for @smangethe

#I'll post the other metric ton of artfight attacks I've done eventually I just keep forgetting #Rain World #Ultrakill #Sisyphus Prime #Minos Prime #(MINOSLUG IS IN THIS ONE. REJOICE! Or woe if you don't like him. Up to viewer interpretation)#Slugcat #Rain World Lizard #Ultrakill spoilers #Yes the lizards are mannequins but I'm not tagging them #RW UTKL #Cw:#Blood #Animal death #(As per usual just to be safe)#Hrokkall art

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ayyy-imma-ninja · 11 months

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What triggers Sunny? Wanna make sure to keep all his triggers away from him too

He hates rats.

And by extension, rodents in general.

Despises them.

Loathes them.

If he hears anything that resembles the squeak or skittering of a mouse or rat, he goes completely rigid, like he's either about to pounce or jump to the ceiling. If he thinks it's there, he will turn the place upside down to find it and kill it.

If his anxiety worsens, he will start to hear and feel phantom rats crawling all over him. Even inside. He's ripped a few articles of clothing to "make them go away".

A child once found a mouse in the library and showed it to Sun. He nearly smacked the animal from the kid's hand but managed to refrain and told them to free it outside.

Another thing- he can't watch any films or TV that graphicly depict dead/dying children. Brings up horrible memories.

#answered ask #dca!serial killer au #sk sun #musophobia #cw mention of child death #anxiety #cw panic attack #cw mention of animal death #dca!serial killer au lore

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bethanythebogwitch · 4 months

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Wet Beast Wednesday: Nile crocodile

Humans in general often have a fear of large reptiles. This may have an evolutionary advantage as it helped our smaller ancestors avoid large predators like snakes and crocodiles. Whatever the reason, the fear has entered into many belief systems and one common feature in many myths, legends, and religions of Africa and the Middle East is the Nile crocodile. While their reputation as man-eaters is somewhat exaggerated, Nile crocs are one of the most dangerous reptiles to humans, with only the saltwater crocodile matching them in human deaths. However, like most animals, the danger can be avoided if you know what to do and what not to do.

(Image ID: a Nile crocodile walking on land, seen from the front. It is a quadruped with short limbs on the side of its body, scaly skin, and an elongated set of jaws with protruding teeth. The tail is out of view. Its body is dark brown on top and yellowish on the sides. End ID)

The Nile crocodile, Crocodylus niloticus, is the second largest crocodilian and (depending on how you measure some snakes) possibly the second largest living reptile after the saltwater crocodile. Average adult males (which are larger than females) reach between 3.5 and 5 meters (11.5 to 16.5 ft) and and 255 to 270 kg (500 to 1,650 lbs), but some specimens have gotten considerably larger, with the largest confirmed size on record being a male who broke the scale at 6.45 m (21 ft) and between 1,043 and 1,089 kg (2,300 - 2,400 lbs). Nile crocodiles are fairly typical crocodilians. They are large quadrupeds with scaly skin covered with scutes and osteoderms, long and powerful jaws, and eyes, ears, and nostrils on top of their heads. Their eyes are protected with transparent eyelids called nictitating membranes and their skin has many sense organs whose purpose is poorly understood but may help detect changes in water pressure. While on land, the crocodiles are fairly slow and ungainly, but they can swim at high speeds when needed. The broad jaws and powerful muscles give the crocodiles an enormous bite force, being able to bite down on prey with 22 kilonewtons of force. For comparison, humans max out at about 0.7 kilonewtons. This force can also be continuously applies for long periods of time, allowing the crocodiles to hold struggling prey in their mouth and drag it underwater. Famously, though crocodilians can close their jaws with incredible force, the muscles for opening their jaws are much weaker and can be held shut with a person's bare hands or some duct tape. They have dark bronze scales on the back and lighter yellow scales on the sides and underbelly, marked with dark spots. The color darkens as the animal ages. As with all crocodilians, the Nile crocodile has a four-chambered heart that is highly efficient at oxygenating blood and is similar to the hearts of birds. Crocodilians and birds are actually more closely related to each other than they are to anything else still alive. All crocodilians have high lactic acid levels in their blood. This allows them to sit motionless for long periods of time, but increased levels due to overexertion can kill them.

(Image ID: a Nile crocodile resting in the water just offshore, with most of its body still visible. This one is a lighter brown. Its tail is visible. It is long and thick, with two rows of scutes running down it. Its mouth is open. End ID)

Nile crocodiles are found throughout a large portion of Africa and are the most widespread crocodiles, with only the saltwater crocodile having a wider distribution. Their current range is smaller than it used to be and now it is known that areas there were once thought to be part of the Nile croc's range are actually home to the similar species known as the West African crocodile. The West African crocodile was formerly believed to be the same species as the Nile crocodile and was only reclassified in 2011. Their habitat is freshwater lakes, waterways, and swamps throughout Africa. They can tolerate brackish or marine water, but but prefer fresh water. Like other crocodilians, Nile crocs are largely sedentary ambush predators. They can remain motionless for long periods of time, often submerged with only their eyes, ears, and nostrils exposed. A crocodile submerged like this can easily be mistaken for a log. When prey comes close, the crocodile will lunge forward and bite down. Larger prey that is not killed outright will be dragged into the water and drowned. Almost uniquely among crocodilians, nile crocodiles are known to hunt on land. They still employ ambush tactics, usually hiding in brush along paths at night and attacking animals passing by. They have even been known to try to steal kills from land predators and get into tug-of-war battles with lions over pieces of carrion. While clips of a massive crocodile leaping out of the water to drag a zebra to its doom make for entertaining documentaries, about 70% of a Nile crocodile's diet is composed of fish. As an individual grows, larger land animals will make up more of its diet. Nile crocs have been known to cooperate to herd fish into tight spots where they are easier to catch and eat. While famous for their skill and hunting and killing prey, Nile crocodiles are anything but voracious eaters. Their stomachs are pretty small for their size, only around the volume of a basketball. They can also go long periods of time between meals, sometimes several months without signs of starvation. Nile crocodiles are a classic case of apex predators. An adult Nile crocodile has no natural predators, though young ones do get attacked and eaten by larger predators, including other crocodiles. Curiously, they are known to swallow stones. Swallowing stones, known as gastroliths, it a well-known behavior in the animal kingdom. They are usually held in the digestive tract and used to help grind up tough food. Most species that use gastroliths are herbivores or omnivores who use them to help grind up tough plant matter, so it's not clear why the carnivorous crocodiles need gastroliths.

(Image ID: a nile crocodile's had visible above water. Its mouth is open and in it is a silvery fish known as a tilapia. End ID)

youtube

(Video ID: a clip from the BBC Earth showing a Nile crocodile successfully attacking a wildebeest. End ID)

When not attacking prey, Nile crocs are pretty sedentary. They can easily spend most of the day basking in the sun, behavior common to large reptiles who need a long time in the heat to warm their bodies enough to perform daily functions. While basking, they sit on land, often with their mouths open. The open mouths are vital for thermoregulation (a crocodile with its mouth sealed shut can overheat and die), but may also serve as a warning to others who may want to steal their spot. In the southernmost reach of their range, Nile crocodiles may wait out the cool, dry months of May to August by digging burrows and entering aestivation, a state similar to hibernation. Nile crocodiles are social creatures that live, bask, and hunt together. They follow a social order with the largest individual around (almost always an old male) being in charge and having first access to food and the best territory. Males are territorial and will try to force other males out of their range. Larger males will be able to maintain the best territories while smaller males are forced to live on the outskirts. Females are not territorial and will seek out the best male territories to live in. While territorial, crocs of all sizes will come together while basking and their interaction then are mostly peaceful. they are known to communicate through posturing, touch, and vocalizations. Males are known to compete over territory and while most of these competitions are settled through threat displays, they may escalate to violence.

(Image ID: four crocodiles resting on a sandy shoreline. End ID)

Territoriality is especially prominent during mating. The mating season begins around the beginning of the dry season and varies based on location. Males will signal for females with several noises, including bellowing, blowing water out of their noses, and slapping the water with their heads. Males will also attempt to drive other males away to reduce competition. When a female chooses a male, she will approach him and the pair rub their jaws together while making a warbling sound. Males like it rough, roaring and pining the females down, sometimes underwater, while mating. Most males will only mate with a single female each year, though some particularly successful males in certain regions will can multiple mates each year. After two months, the female lays her eggs. While most crocodilians incubate their eggs in piles of rotting leaves, Nile crocodiles use sandy banks or beaches. The female digs a nest, lays up to 80 eggs in it, then buries the eggs. The heat of the sun is used to incubate the eggs and to determine the sex of the offspring. Eggs incubated between 31.7 and 34.5 degrees C will be male. All others will be female. Nests used to be laid extremely close to each other, but but to increased disturbances along the nesting sites, this has become rare. During the incubation period, the mother guards the nest continuously, only leaving to avoid overheating by resting in the shade or entering the water. The father also plays a role, patrolling the area around the nest to drive away predators who would eat the eggs. Incubation lasts about 90 days and the female usually will not eat during this time. The hatchlings will make chirping noises before hatching to signal to the mother that she needs to dig out the nest. Once uncovered, the mother may use her jaws to crack the eggs and assist hatching. Hatchings start at around 280 mm (11 in) long and 70 grams (2.5 oz) and will increase by that rate for the first few years. The mother will protect her offspring for up to two years, often carrying them on her back or in her mouth or throat pouch to keep them safe from predators. The juveniles feed on insects for the first few years of life. Even after leaving their mother, hatchlings will often live in groups until they are large enough to not have to worry about predators. It is estimated that only 10% of eggs hatch and 1% of hatchlings survive to adulthood. Sexual maturity is reached at around 11 to 12 years and the maximum lifespan is estimated to be 70 to 100 years.

(Image ID: a Nile crocodile mother standing at the edge of her nest, a pit in the ground. Multiple white eggs are visible, as are newly-hatched crocodiles, which are far smaller version of an adult. End ID)

(Image ID: Nile crocodile eggs hatching. Four eggs are visible and two are actively hatching, with only the hatchling's heads having emerged. Two other crocodiles have already hatched. End ID)

Nile crocodiles are threatened by habitat loss, pollution, prey loss, bycatch, and human hunting. From the 1940s to the 60s, Nile crocodiles were hunted in massive numbers for the leather trade and were near extinction until new laws, international trade regulations, and conservation efforts largely stopped the hunting efforts. Despite this, their population has not returned to pre-hunting levels and they have been extirpated from many locations. Poaching still happens, as does hunting due to their perceived status as man-eaters, which is actively hindering conservation efforts. Like with sharks, the public image of an animal as being dangerous to humans directly harms its survivability and conservation efforts. Loss of habitat and suitable nesting sites due to damming and other human-caused changes to wetlands have also damaged crocodile populations. An invasive plant, Chromolaena odorata, is harming the crocodiles due to it growing out of control in nesting grounds. The shade from the plants keeps the sun from warming the eggs, causing them to die. Nile crocodiles and saltwater crocodiles are responsible fro the vast majority of attacks on humans and it is estimated that Nile crocs may be responsible for hundreds of deaths (most of them unreported) a year. Only the largest individuals pose a threat to adult humans, though children are at risk to smaller crocs. In fact, Nile crocodiles kill more humans per year through direct attacks than any other wild animal. Those numbers are still dwarfed by deaths due to disease spreading animals, animals acting in self-defense, or attacks or injuries from domesticated animals. For the most part, the crocodiles do not seem to target humans, the number of attacks comes from humans and the crocodiles both living near the water's edge and the crocodiles' nature as generalist predators of large animals. People who study and interact with the crocodiles report that if the right precautions are taken, the danger from being around the animals is negligible and many people and groups have tried to spread safety precautions, especially to poor and remote areas where attacks are likely the most common.

(Image ID: several juvenile Nile crocodiles in a tank being fed. Someone is using a grabber on a stick to drop meat into the tank. Four of the crocodiles are rearing out of the water to get the food. End ID)

#wet beast wednesday #nile crocodile #crocodile #crocodilian #africa #reptile #freshwater biology #freshwater ecology #biology #zoology #ecology #images #image described #cw mentions of death #animal attack #animal facts #Youtube

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