#never brushes him and let’s his fur get all matted

[heartfullofleeches]

Maybe a better idea..... Farmer Flemish giant rabbit Yan catches Foxboy reader, but gives reader the choice that if he becomes the yans malewife he can live.

(That was the plan to some extent in the long run, but the chase is fun, no? Regardless, here's a blurb of the two lovebirds)

Male Flemish Rabbit Yan + Foxboy Reader

Warnings: Imprisonment, kidnapping. Reader's pronouns are not mentioned, but they are thought of as male. The term Wife is used.

-

That bastard....

"Let me out! Let. Me. Out!"

Rearing your legs as far back as the tight space would grant, your knees bump into your chest as you kick out. Metal grates dig at your arms with every slight turn and jostle of your body. Dirt and moulted feathers mat your fur, yet there isn't any poultry in sight for you to feast and console yourself upon.

Damn it... You knew it was too good to be true. That farmer was a fool, but a watchful and cautious one at that. He'd never leave the door to his pens open unless he was sick or injured. Maybe part of you had prayed that he was. Wrong as it may be to wish ill on someone making a living for himself, you were just trying to survive too.

"Let me out.... please.." Your voice wavers as the pains of hunger and stress exhaust what little strength you have left. Your balled fists slap pathetically against the metal cages as tears well in your eyes, daring to spill. You won't let them. You won't let him win.

"I said...GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

The gravel outside your wooden prison shifts.

"In due time, Love. We've got a deal to make first."

Dread consumes the emptiness in your stomach, pinning your limbs to the dirt covered floor as he at sinks to his knees. Your knees curl into your chest once more, body and mind subconsciously making yourself smaller as his larger figure draws into view - blocking your sight of the forest beyond his land. Your home. You don't even realize your crying till his fingers brush the wetness from your cheek. You have half a mind to bite them off as they get stuck between the grates.

You snarl- "If you wanted me gone you could've asked..."

The farmer presses a strong hand to his mouth, suppressing a laugh. "If I wanted ya gone, I would'a taken the sheriff's generous offer of a shotgun the last time I had him over. You know how he is about outsiders."

The bite in your stare remains - still, your legs quiver at the mention. "You aren't going to turn me over to him, are you?

He can't. The farmer is lenient towards your crimes, but that man.. That rabbit... He'll have you hanging from the town hall by nightfall.

"Please... I'll...I'll do anything...I'll work off my debt day and night, I-"

"Sweetheart...." The farmer rest a hand on the steel wall of the coop, gently petting its bars as he would your fuzzy little head once you agreed to be his. "It's okay. Nobody's gonna hurt you or make you do any hard labor."

"Then-" Your cracked tongue wets your splitting lips. "What do you want from me?"

The farmer cranes his head, meeting you eye to eye. The bags beneath his eyes seemed heavier than usual. How long had been out here waiting for you to return?"

"Cute little fox like yourself shouldn't be out here scrounging around for scraps or the occasional unattended hen. You should have a roof over your head, a comfy bed, all the food you could ever want."

What's he going on about? Another trap?... "If I'm not going to work for it... How does this deal benefit you?"

"I want you to be my wife."

"Wha?!- Ouch!-" Your head shoots up, ramming into the low hanging support beams. "Are you crazy?"

The farmer lets a chuckle slip. "Heh, I'd have to have lost my mind not falling for ya. Think about it this way, Sweetheart. You come home with me and I fill that belly of yours full of food. Or I call up the sheriff and he fills it with lead. Your choice."

Your howling stomach betrays any fight you have remaining. You don't have many options in this scenario. Push come to shove, you could possibly make your escape in the dead of night when he least expects it - taking as many of his hens as your arms could carry.

"Okay... I'll.. be your wife."

"Smart fox." The farmer stands - rounding the corner to the front of the henhouse. He lifts the wooden board that had fallen into place as you crawling inside hours ago. Your legs are too cramped and spent from all that kicking to fight him as he pulls you out by your tail and into his well built arms. The farmer presses his nose to your face, nuzzling your cheek as he walks off towards his home - carrying you bridal style.

"Welcome home, Hun."

#yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #male yandere #yandere blurb #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere hybrid #yandere drabble #yandere farmer #yandere male #tw yandere #male reader

[catscidr]

Ok, crowtorre? 10/10. THE 💣 💣 💣 😭 But omg how would he fair with a cat or wolf hybrid reader..

PLS

NOO he would be such a tease!! he’d be so mean!! im imagining cat hybrid reader (bc im biased lol) but LORD he’d be even more mischievous than usual, to the point where you go out of your way to avoid him at all cost if you get that feeling in your gut that tells u he’s going to be particularly annoying (he’s pissed you off so often you eventually developed a sort of sixth sense related to it. a headache radar, if you will)

(prev crowttore post for context)

cw: crow hybrid!dottore x afab!cat hybrid!reader. established relationship, he’s annoying, pure rambling from yours truly so barely even proof read. second half is nsfw, minors dni, scara mentionned once, rough sx, possessive behaviour, talks of breeding, overstim, smidge of aftercare.

“your reactions are entertaining” he’s told you once, his excuse whenever you shove him away from you. ever since then, you’ve tried to keep your reactions to a minimum. give him nothing more than a glare. but you fail. every single time. it’s not your fault he’s so good at reading people!! curse his big wrinkly brain

it’s not all that bad, though. sometimes he helps, like when you have knots in your shoulders he’ll gladly "preen" you and rid you of the pesky tension building up in your aching muscles with his nimble fingers. sometimes he even takes time to brush your tail for you; but that’s not something he does solely for your benefit. he’ll pluck out the fur that gets caught in the brush, and he'll use it for... something. you never asked, and you don’t really want to know (especially considering what he does to people on a regular basis)

but, at the end of the day, being with dottore is a chore at best. he can be a decent partner, but he, for some reason, makes it his mission to get on your nerves everyday. he’ll poke and prod at your ears and tail, “begging” you in a mocking tone to let him run tests on you. he’ll invade your personal space on purpose until you hiss and swat him away, only for him to grab your wrist and taunt you to “try harder than that”.

even if he doesn't go out of his way to irritate you, sometimes you'll just glance at him and get annoyed. maybe that was just a reflection of how little patience you had around him, though.

at this point you’ve lost count on how may times he’s run your patience to the ground (whether on purpose or not), but if there's one thing he's good at its pleasing you. he's smart (though calculating), dexterous, and observant. surely that means that he'll ditch the teasing and be a good boyfriend for you once you go through your monthly heats!

NO. LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER. WRONG!!!!

you'll be writhing in discomfort in his bed, tail all fluffed up and twitching, swiping at the sheets beneath you as you rut into his pillow. you're smearing slick all over the fabric, a mix of curses and whines slipping past your lips.

he refused to take the day off to take care of you when he saw the state you were in, saying something like "you're an adult, surely you can control your urges" with the same, sickly sweet smile he flashes at you whenever you pout at him. he even made sure to give you a kiss after he left your shared flat to go to his lab, something he never does.

and there you were. watching the clock tick, impatiently waiting for him to come home to replace the stupid toys that couldn't even drag one measly orgasm out of you. not a single one. all you could think about was him, him, him.

you could barely smell him on the pillow anymore, since all you smelled was how horribly horny you were. but as soon as you heard the front door open and the familiar sound of his boots stepping on the worn-out "welcome" mat, you swear you felt even more slick drip out of you (if that was even possible)

the second dottore steps into his room and he's at arms length, you grab onto his sleeve and tug him closer. unfortunately for you, your muscles are considerably weaker than usual and you don't even get to move him even an inch closer to you.

he revels in the whines that leave you and in your discomfort. he's both the best and worst person to take care of your heat; he knows what he's doing, sure, but he also knows exactly what to do to keep you right on the edge. both with actions and words.

"why would I help you with you heat, darling? don't you need a fellow feline hybrid to help you?" he coos, slipping his coat off of his shoulders, making you all but drool at the sight of the harness hugging his firm torso.

"no. no, fuck you, i need you," you whine, a pout tugging at your lips as you take in a deep breath to steady yourself. he just smiles, bending down to your level to cup your face in his soft, feathery hands to speak to you in that condescending tone he always uses this time of the month. "want me to call the balladeer to take care of you? i'm sure he'll be delighted to blow off some steam. and he'll be helping you, too! don't you want that? to have his cat cock drilling into you?"

when you scowl, tail whipping against the bed with dull thumps, he grins. of course he would never hand you off to his coworker, he doesn't trust any of the harbingers around you when you're in heat anyways. dottore knows only he can quench your insatiable thirst, but he adores hearing it from you. hearing you whine and beg for his touch, for his cock gives him an ego boost- makes that primal, possessive part of him coo in delight.

and when he finally touches you, black nails scraping against your sticky, sweaty skin, you swear you almost cum on the spot. it would have been embarrassing if it wasn't for the fact that you had been on edge the entire day. at least he was kind enough to make you cum properly with his fingers one time to rid you of that hunger for just a second, enough for him to get rid of his slacks to free his aching, hard cock from its confines.

seeing you beg for him fed his ego and, in turn, made his blood rush down to his second head, you really can’t blame him.

he manhandles you so easily it makes you throb with need, your first orgasm having faded away already, making you ache for him to pull another one out of you. and he would do so oh so graciously, pulling your ass back with a tug on the base of your tail, admiring the view of you on all fours just for him.

“ahh… i’ll never get tired of seeing you like this, waiting all nice and pretty for me. want me to fuck you nice and good, don’t you? breed you full of my seed?” he coos right into your ear, pulsing erection sliding up and down your wet folds, just barely dipping inside of your hole. you hiss, words failing you as you slip a hand between your legs to guide him inside.

and he lets you, smirking at the sight of his stubborn, headstrong partner reduced to a puddle of carnal need. you feel all nth inches of his hard cock fill you up and you cum hard, crying as you finally get what you had been craving for hours. his length all snug inside of you, letting you cockwarm him until the aftershocks of your climax fade and he can start moving in you, fucking you.

it would only be the beginning though, because he always made it his mission to “beat” your heat, so to speak. make you cum on his cock so much you would be pushing him away, weakly tapping his chest and clawing at his back as you plead for him to pull out.

you’ll be pinned to the bed on your stomach as he thrusts into you; sharp, hard plaps echoing in the bedroom over and over again, the bedsheets soaked with your juices and his seed. you can barely even think of running away, brain reduced to mush as he admires the way your ears seem to be glued down to your head, tail flicking weakly in time with his thrusts.

but when he finally takes pity on your poor sore and used cunt, he’ll rub soothing circles on your back as you purr quietly, satiated. for now. he doesn’t bother leaving the room to get a washcloth because he knows you’ll only claw at his arm, pull a few feathers out as a result, and look at him with those eyes that make him want to take you all over again.

he knows you’re tired though, if it wasn’t already obvious by the way you don’t even bother to untangle yourself from the soiled bedsheet you laid on. and he’ll gladly stay with you, keeping his wing spread out over you to keep you warm until you wake up and pounce on him for even more rounds.

#i have issues methinks #this was written with my pussy im sorry #the scara comment wasnt planned but now im thinking of writing something with him #the people (me) yearn for abo dynamics #୧ ‧₊˚rambling! #dottore x reader #dottore x you #dottore x afab reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #dottore smut #genshin smut #cw omegaverse #just in case even

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

AU but instead of Merlin banishing Kilgharrah, he turns him into a cat that looks and behaves like a disagreeable old man.

Kilgharrah spends a while sulking in Merlin’s room but then decides he might as well enjoy the freedom he has now.

And he’s an absolute menace.

He knocks things over, he scratches nobles, he’s surprisingly nice to Geoffrey in the library but he never let anyone pet him.

It takes weeks of matted fur for him to let Merlin brush him, even then Merlin has to use dragon speech to stop Kilgharrah biting him.

After he finds out that Uther is allergic to cats, he spends a good amount of his time getting cat hair all over Uther’s chambers and clothes.

He leaves Arthur dead mice after reading that cats leave gifts if they think their owner is a bad hunter and unable to provide.

He doesn’t like Gaius, so he sits on his chair before council meetings. Everyone is too afraid to move him.

But he’s also nice(?) to servants and anyone who isn’t cruel about magic. Which is why he gets along with Geoffrey.

He sees a noble he knows to be anti-magic, especially during the purge, yelling at a servant and jumps in, scratching the noble so they leave and then meowing at the servant before leaving.

If anyone else has any ideas for this, please share. I wanna hear them.

(How I imagine Kilgharrah as a cat below the split)

#bbc merlin #kilgharrah #canon divergent au #merlin bbc #merlin #I normally hate Kilgharrah but this was too funny #maine coon #cats #cannon divergence #fic ideas #merlin fic #uther pendragon #fuck uther #gaius merlin #geoffrey of monmouth #arthur pendragon #merlin emrys #i’m bad at tagging

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for calling animal rescue/welfare on my mom who loves her pets?

My mom has 2 cats and 1 dog. I want to start off by saying that she doesn't physically abuse her animals.

They're in a weird state of being really emotionally spoiled and completely physically neglected. The dog sleeps in bed with her and is always on the sofa, doesn't get told off when he pees and poops in the house, and the cats are always getting cuddles. The cats are getting kinda fat because they're fed a lot.

My mom is an alcoholic and she doesn't look after herself or her home at all. It's been years since she showered or bathed, she goes weeks without changing her clothes except for when she works, her house is genuinely falling completely apart. Cupboard doors are falling off at the hinges and propped up with buckets, doors don't close, carpets are coming up off the floor, wallpaper is peeling, the shower door fell off and shattered, the toilet lid is cracked in half, the floors are too dirty to step on without shoes, the entire house STINKS of animal urine and there are stains everywhere. A couple of years back she had an insect infestation in one of the bedrooms.

Now, my mom loves her pets and really emotionally relies on them. Ever since I moved out she's been alone and has regressed even worse because when she's at home she has nothing to do but drink and watch TV. The pets are her only company most days.

However, her bad hygiene and home care translates to them. It has been YEARS since the dog was walked, and months since he even got a cursory trip over the road to the small grass area outside her house. His fur is always matted, and he recently had fleas (god knows how when he doesn't leave the house but there you go). He has bald patches of fur missing. He pees and poops all over the floors and carpets because he just doesn't get let outside to do it enough - and he runs away or hides when you find it so he 100% knows he's not supposed to, he just doesn't have a choice because he's not able to go into the garden. His claws are always so long they're bothering him when he walks, and as gross as it is to describe there have been COUNTLESS times I've visited and he's had literal shit caked onto his fur around his tail because he's had diarrhea and when I've pointed it out that he needs to be washed my mom brushes it off with "It's only a little bit" and continues to let him onto the bed/couch.

The cats are mildly better off because they can clean themselves, but their litter trays are always OVERFLOWING - like, genuinely, mountains of cat poop piling up in the trays to the point where they're going on the floor because they don't have room in the tray - and one of them is sleeping in a bed that is Caked in vomit stains, clumps of hair, other miscellaneous marks, all of that.

I've called someone about it before when I still lived there, and a woman did stop by to check it out and told my mom that the cat litters were unacceptable, but my mom just lies to them. According to her the dog gets walked twice a day without fail, gets a ton of enrichment, everything, and you can't really prove her to be lying. The woman told her she'd drop by in a week to check on the litters, my mom kept them clean until she came back and gave the okay, and then just went right back to neglecting them and nothing was done about it.

I have no idea what to do anymore but I want to call again and really impress upon them that they're not being cared for. I sent photos and video evidence last time along with an explanation, but it doesn't seem like it got me anywhere at all. I just don't know what else to do. I've brought up the idea of taking at least the dog with me to my new place (it's very nearby so she'd still be able to visit him and I'd be able to walk him up to her house), but she VEHEMENTLY objected and told me she'd never be able to let him go.

I'm not sure what it would do tbh, even disregarding that she'd probably just get a new pet I would be genuinely worried she'd lose all interest in life if they were taken away.

TL;DR Mom's alcoholism means she doesn't look after her pets and they're not being cared for at all, but taking them away would severely impact her mental health.

WIBTA for calling animal services on her again?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #unsanitary cw

[k-zu]

REALLY LOVE YOUR DRAGON LI FIC ITS SO AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIABSUAVHA <33

is it okay if I request dragon zhongli headcanons with gn reader?

maybe you can add one where he’s in full dragon form and reader helping him out with grooming like brushing and untangling some matted parts of his hair or using products to care for his scales or horns? :o

(with or without reader is fine with me :])

feel free to decline this! Have an awesome week ⭐️💗

request and you shall be granted.

( i've never written anything in headcanon format, hope this is alright ! )

"after stepping down from his title as an archon, zhongli still isn't able to live a truly mortal life, for he still is a half-dragon even without the mighty exuvia. as his companion though, he's more than grateful that you're there to help him through it."

getting used to maintaining a fully human form becomes harder without his gnosis, that's why he lets some of his dragon-like features out while hiding them under his clothes. like his shining arms and hands under his suit and gloves.

he has the sharpest instincts, when he feels you're in danger he's quick to manifest geo shields around you, he might even get in a protective stance in front of you. like a dragon protecting its treasure.

after long days of dealing with his restless child boss, he comes home and, if he's comfortable enough with you, instantly lets his half-dragon form out. opting for rest under the sun or nuzzled in bed with you.

half-dragon zhongli is extremely sensitive to touch, perhaps becomes a bit more bold when seeking for your attention too. he'll become more touchy and will try to kiss you more often. if you do even as much as to reciprocate a kiss and put your hands on him, it's over for you. he's not letting go.

half-dragon zhongli is also extremely sensitive to how you're feeling, if he senses tiredness, fatigue or anything that might get you in a bad mood or sick, he will stand by your side and offer to help you with whatever he can to make you feel more comfortable. ( i have a drabble on this where reader falls sick ehe all fluff ! )

"my, but you're shivering! would you like me to get you some blankets, my dear? oh? just hug you?" he giggles, "you don't need to ask twice, my love."

half-dragon zhongli who purrs without noticing !!!

half-dragon zhongli whose golden markings shine in pulsating glows along the beat of your heart, they're on his arms and legs and perhaps even chest, where he likes to place his hand and watch as the light that represents your heart slips through the fingers covering it.

sometimes, he pretends to fall asleep on the couch so you can quietly join him for a bit, and after he's sure you've fallen asleep he cuddles you and kisses the back of your neck with such fondness.

now, full-dragon zhongli but a tiny version of the exuvia who acts a lot like a cat but is still able to understand you.

he lets you pet him and marvels at the little kisses you leave on his head. he also lets you help him untangle and take care of his fur, very softly at first fearing you might hurt him accidentally. he just stares at you attentively until you feel giddy enough to leave a kiss or two between your work, he'd close his eyes and smile in delight.

tiny cat-like dragon zhongli whose favorite place to nap on is your lap !

he can't afford to manifest the big exuvia form without his gnosis, specially not inside his mortal house. so he settles on a smaller form, perhaps the size of a small dog. he'd be always on top of you in some way, your shoulders, your head, or clinging to your pants until you pick him up.

maybe if you visit his adepti abode, he'd let you see the big dragon and then you'd understand all the legends and songs dedicated to his name.

perhaps if you meet each other after giving up his gnosis, he'd feel scared of telling you the truth, fearing you might think differently of him if you find out he used to be the geo archon and is now just a non-human funeral consultant.

i can imagine him wishing to really touch you, without gloves, to feel your warmth and the softness of your skin, to love every part of you without restrictions. ( i just thought of a very cute drabble idea for this ( ˙▿˙ ) )

half-dragon zhongli would be the most difficult person to get things done with, you need to get out of bed to work? are you sure?

"dearest, you're so warm…" "i hear you, but we really need to get up."

dragon zhongli who, in his big form, likes to walk/fly around just for you to admire him and compliment him.

dragon zhongli who makes a contract with himself to protect you from any and all harm for as long as he lives ( and has the ability to remember ).

a/n:

i am more than soft for dragon zhongli, the brainrot is so strong UWAAAA

no beta we die.

#★; requests #favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #dragon zhongli x reader #zhongli x gn reader #zhongli headcanons #dragon zhongli headcanons #zhongli x you #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #原神

[number-one-shadisper-shipper]

Happy Wholesome Sonic and Tails Wednesday!

I wanted to share a cute little oneshot I wrote about Sonic and Tails not long after they first started wandering around together. This story is based on/inspired by @skimmingmilk's wonderful origin story "Chart a Course to Second Chances" from their Sometimes the Picket Fence Isn't Perfect series. I loved the portrayal of Classic Sonic's mutism and Tails's backstory and trauma. This oneshot is mostly just fluff, though. Enjoy!

A Little Fox with Messy Fur

(Sonic is 11 and Tails is around 3 or 4)

It had been a busy day. Sonic and Tails had destroyed a whole batch of Eggman robots and chased him out of a nearby town. Now they were making their way back to their latest campsite in the woods.

Tails gestured to a small creek they were walking past and made splashy motions and sounds. He liked to swim around to relax sometimes. Sonic's chest tightened slightly at the thought of water, but he nodded and they walked over. Anything for his buddy. It wasn't deeper than wading height, even for little Tails, but Sonic still opted to stay on the bank while he jumped in and splashed around.

Sonic kept a sharp eye on him to make sure he didn't end up in any trouble. Honestly, Tails was probably a better swimmer than him. Mostly since he couldn't swim at all. But something could still happen.

Tails soon grew tired of splashing and finished by rubbing out his fur a bit in the water, something akin to a bath without soap. He crawled out of the creek and shook vigorously. Sonic jumped out of the splash zone, wrinkling his nose. Water. Bleah.

Tails wrung himself out. Once he was sure there was no more threat of getting wet, Sonic reached into his backpack and pulled out their shared towel. Tails was content to let Sonic rub him dry.

As he dried his little buddy, Sonic noticed how tangled up his fur was getting. A few tufts came off in the towel, which was... probably normal? It was shedding season. At least, he thought so. That really only applied to animals with fur, so he wasn't sure. He occasionally lost and grew back quills, but he didn't really shed.

Sonic frowned as he finished drying him. The "bath" really hadn't done much good. Tails's fur was too matted to really clean it well. Even when Sonic had first met the little guy, his fur had been dirty and matted.

How long had he been on his own before Sonic came along?

Sonic paused. He'd never thought about how hard fox fur must be to take care of. His own quills were quick to bounce back into place with a shake or two. Sometimes things got stuck in them, little twigs or leaves or debris, and then he'd have to sit and pick them out, but besides that his pelt was pretty low-maintenance.

Tails, on the other hand... he looked a little scruffy. Part of that was that his fur was now sticking out in all sorts of directions from Sonic's rubdown. But even in general, all the robot battling and sleeping in the woods was taking its toll.

Well, if his little friend needed more care, he'd just have to help him out. No one else was looking after him, so he'd made that his job until he could find someone else. Someone who'd be able to care for him right.

Truth be told, he didn't really want to think that far ahead. He would miss the little whir flying along behind him.

He shook his head. This wasn't the time to worry about that. Right now he needed to get this taken care of. He motioned Tails to follow him towards a village he'd spotted on his last scouting run. Surely they could buy a fur brush there.

Tails trotted happily along beside him, making little noises to himself. Some of them sounded almost like words. Sonic felt a small pang as he realized that surely the toddler should be talking by now. Maybe if he had a real family, someone who talked to him, he'd have picked it up already.

Sonic hadn't talked in a while. He didn't really feel like it, although he kept up such a loud monologue in his head it felt like spilling over a lot. But even when he tried, he found his voice just wouldn't come. Part of it was that people overwhelmed him a little. They asked too many questions and never seemed to like his answers for some reason. Part of it was everything he'd been through with Eggman. He hated to admit it, but yeah, having to deal with all the horrid stuff Eggman put him through was a lot for an eleven-year-old.

But Tails should have a chance to talk. Maybe Sonic'd try a little harder to get the words to come out. Sometimes he almost felt like he could speak around him. It was the first time he'd felt truly comfortable with someone.

They reached the village. As they got closer, Tails slowed and cowered behind him. Sonic understood. He wasn't super keen to be around a lot of people either. Plus, he knew Tails hadn't really had great experiences with others. When he'd met him, some older kids were bullying him, and he'd had to step in to stop it. Even after the kit started following him around, it took a while to get him to actually come close, or to let him touch him at all. Now Sonic could give him gentle shoulder pats or fur ruffles or even carry him sometimes, but they were still working on it.

Speaking of... Sonic paused to look at Tails, still hiding behind him. He wouldn't make him go into the village if he was scared, but he also knew he didn't like being out of his sight for long. Maybe... He held out his paw and grinned. Tails smiled a bit and put his own tiny paw in his, a little reassurance that Sonic'd be looking after him. They walked into the village together, making their way to the square.

Once they'd walked around a bit, Tails felt safe enough to let go of his hand and wander around a tiny bit. He got distracted by some sort of organizing machine nearby. Sonic chuckled internally. By the time he'd finished shopping, Tails would probably have the whole machine figured out and could build his own. He was such a smart little dude.

Sonic made sure to keep an eye on him as he wandered through the market stands. He still had to make sure no one would mess with his friend. If they did, well... there would be trouble.

He finally spotted a brush at one of the stands. He waved to get the attention of the person who ran it and motioned to the brush. He also decided to grab a comb, just in case. Maybe it'd help him with his quills too.

He gave the guy a handful of rings and glanced back at Tails, who was still watching the machine in awe. Sonic started to walk over to him, but paused. He still had some rings... and he'd walked by a stand selling candy a few minutes ago. He grinned. While Tails was still distracted, he bought a small bag of mints. They were the kit's favorite treat. He tucked them away before Tails could see. It'd make a nice surprise later.

He waved to Tails and motioned him to follow. They left the village. Tails bounced happily along, moving his fingers and drawing in the air to make what looked like could be math equations? He was probably still figuring out the machine and making plans to improve it.

Man, if only everyone knew how awesome he was, he'd have folks lining up to give him a home. It was so stupid how no one could see past his extra tail.

They got back out to their campsite. Tails sat down in an soft patch of grass. Sonic pulled out the fur brush and held it up. Tails' eyes flickered between him and the brush and he pulled back a bit, curling his knees to his chest. Had he ever seen one before? Maybe it looked threatening. Sonic smiled reassuringly and mimed brushing his own quills. See? It's okay.

Tails remained curled up, but he relaxed a little. Sonic knelt down beside him and reached out with the brush slowly. He intended to give it him and let him use it, but the kit simply stared, making no move to take it. Right. He was still a toddler. He probably didn't really know how to do it himself anyways.

Sonic softly touched the brush against his shoulder. Tails eyed it suspiciously and pulled away from the contact. Sonic pulled the brush back, and gave him another friendly grin and a thumbs-up. Tails relaxed and allowed him to reach the brush out again.

Sonic touched the brush against him again. Once Tails was okay with it, he moved the brush over his fur slightly. Tails stared curiously as he ran the brush down his arm a few times before moving to his back. Within moments, Tails was purring and leaning into the brush like a kitten getting petted. Sonic smiled.

It took a bit, but the tangles started coming out. Sonic had to slow down for the really knotty bits, switching to the comb for some parts. Tails was surprisingly patient with the process, especially when Sonic made little motions to let him know he was getting to a rough spot so the tug wouldn't surprise him.

As he reached Tail's tails, the little fox pulled away. He clutched them tightly against his chest, staring at Sonic with his forehead furrowed.

Oh yeah. He was very protective of his tails. Sonic'd seen the bullies yanking on them when he'd first rescued him. Even now people looked at them funny. To be fair, it was unique, but that was no excuse for anyone to be mean to him.

Sonic stepped back, nodding to show him he'd respect his boundaries. Tails glanced down, then stared up at Sonic with complete and utter trust in his eyes. He uncurled slowly and moved his tails where Sonic could reach them. Sonic smiled. He'd be extra careful.

He finished brushing him and stepped back to survey his work. Still not perfect, but definitely better. He didn't look like a stray anymore. He looked like someone was taking care of him.

Sonic grinned and gave Tails a thumbs up. Tails looked down at himself and ran his fingers through his fur. They didn't snag or anything.

Tails smiled at him. "T'anks!"

Sonic almost jumped at the first real word he'd heard him speak. He was picking things up. Good for him!

He wanted to reply, to say something, anything back. His lips formed the words "You're welcome," but no sound came out. He bit back a feeling of disappointment and tried again. This time, something did come out. It wasn't words, and it stung his throat a little, but it was a noise. A cheerful grunt. And it was more than he'd said in a long time.

Tails blinked his big eyes. A tiny purr rumbled in his chest. He'd seemed to understand that Sonic was pleased with his speaking. Sonic gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up and pulled out the bag of mints. Now was as good a time as any.

Tails squeaked and happily sat back to stuff the candy in his mouth. Sonic grinned. Man, he loved this little guy.

Wait, love?

Oh shoot.

He was attached now.

Thank you for reading!

#wholesome sonic and tails wednesday #wstw #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #sonic #sonic and tails #tails #fluff #they're brothers your honor #sonic fic #fanfic #writing #fanfiction writer

[hmshermitcraft]

Etho's shedding. Agian.

He, along with all the other hybrids, shed twice a year, once to be rid of the winter coat, and once to gain it back.

For most, fall is a rather lackluster affair, beef and gem het fluffier and have an extra layer of fat to keep warm, Grian and stress stay perpetually fluffed up to trap the warm air under their feathers, Bdubs and doc hibernate for a week every month, and of course, everyone sheds their spring coat for the thicker winter one.

Etho, unfortunately, has an especially hard time with the changing seasons. He's not so good at deshedding himself so the brown spring coat gets matted in with the white winter coat, not to mention the horror that is his undercoat at all times.

The hermits try and leave him alone about it, they know that Etho's doing the best he can with what he's got, he's stellar at all the other self care things, never goes a night without brushing his teeth, but the deshedding is where he falls apart a bit. It's hard to do, it hurts his arms to reach around his head, he often catches his ears in the brush and don't even get him started on the tail. (It's terrible.)

Eventually Beef gets tired of seeing Etho look so sad and matted so he arrives unannounced with a brush and a crockpot full of borscht to bribe him into sitting still.

Beef starts with the brush, trying his damnedest to get through the mats on Etho's tail and head but the bristles keep breaking off. He tries a metal comb next but that only amounts to Etho yelping and giving Beef the saddest most betrayed look he can muster.

The unfortunate reality is that Etho's coat can't be saved, the mats are too thick and much too close to the skin to do much else but shave him down.

It's the healthiest thing to do for him, even if it can cause damage to his double coat and he'll be cold as hell this winter.

Etho's sad about it, his hair in the spring is long and silky, reddish brown and a bit wavy. When he's able to shed properly the white hair is bright and thick, falling around him in fluffy strands.

He ends up crying while Beef shaves him. Luckily the other's comforting presence and warm borscht keeps him from completely breaking down.

Beef stays the night, Etho's fragile right now in a way he hasn't seen before. Normally the fall is a time of calm for him, for all of them, hermicraft is safe from the most extreme of weather so nobody really needs to worry about freezing, but he does need to worry about Etho. Without the white fur Etho's gonna be cold, obviously, and he's also not going to have the protection it gives him. Hermits don't need to rely on their instincts but that doesn't mean they go away. Without his camouflage Etho's gonna be an anxious mess since he doesn't have the security.

Etho curls up next to him, ears flat against his head while he tries to hide under his tail, a feat that would've been possible if he still had fur. He's not bald, just buzzed, but he has none of the comfort once brought to him. Beef picks up where Etho can't, covering Etho where he should be and bringing him close.

Once he's asleep beef starts shopping for hats and long coats and thick gloves, new boots too because the monstrosity that is Etho's footwear has to go.

-s

He is sad about it. How couldn't he be - nobody likes their hair being cut off if they don't want it. His fur is part of him, it's part of his identity and how he wants to present himself. And now that's gone (even if temporarily.)

Beef makes it better. He can't stop it hurting, but he makes it better. Disagreements about Etho's choice of shoes aside...

And next year, Beef turns up at Etho's the moment moulting season starts with the promise he's not letting him go through that again. Whether Etho likes it or not.

(And Etho does. Even if he whines about it plenty.)

#hermitshipping #ask #etho tag #vintagebeef tag #beetho #s anon #mod 🎀 #weekly theme: fall/autumn

[colderdrafts]

Can I request a short one-shot of this "your beauty never over scared me" with Dren and reader? The song has been stuck in my head for a while and I noticed that this part fits Dren and reader's relationship in the future In my mind, I didn't think the day would come when I thought spiders were cute lol

That's adorable. Here ya go <3

You’re settled on top of a makeshift nest of furs leaning against the wall, book of glossaries in hand. Certain words are still difficult, and the strange lettering isn’t helping, but you’re slowly coming to grasp the basics. The ‘library’ is small but cozy, and it’s a nice place to spend the day when it’s rainy on the outside.

Well, cozy for you, perhaps.

You’ve watched Dren roaming around in here, skidding from wall to wall and reorganizing his things. The last trip to the marketplace came with a haul of new books, and he’s spent most of the morning carefully putting everything in place – putting things in another place – putting them back again – for about ten minutes.

When you first met you wouldn’t have taken him for such a neat freak. It brings an amused smile to your face when he suddenly snaps to attention, zeroing in on one of the lanterns whilst hanging sideways on the wall. He eyes it like it offends him.

Very carefully, he uses a leg to reach over and re-adjust the length of the string connected to it. It now hangs perfectly in accordance with the other one.

Even more noticeable from his haphazard level of motion, however, is how he consistently blows his long hair out of his face. Several times, he wipes it away with his hands to keep it out of his eyes. The way he deftly ventures along the walls and crawling across the ceiling, his hair looks like a bigger obstacle than the fact he’s sometimes hanging upside down.

You sigh and snap the book shut. Dren halts, crouched on the wall, and stares at you from the sudden sound.

“Get down here and let me help you with that,” you chuckle at him, getting up and waving him to you.

He cogs his head at you, though climbs down to join you on the ground. “With what? Pardon if my moving about is disturbing your reading.”

“It isn't," you shake your head, gesturing in front of you. "Come on, have a seat here, I can’t reach you when you're standing up.”

You’ve definitely piqued his interest, judging from the curious stare. He folds his legs and settles down, getting to eye level with you.

You step closer and brush the curtain of long black locks away from his face. “It looked like a hazzle to keep all of this out of your face while you’re climbing around. Want me to tie it for you?”

He glances to the side, as if subconsciously trying to avoid your eye. It’s a habit he’s gotten into recently, he's either hiding behind his hair or his hands. Even now you can feel him fidgeting to suppress the urge to do so again.

You brush a thumb across his cheek to calm him, and he instinctively leans into your palm, chittering quietly.

“That would be nice. Thank you,” he mutters.

It’s not exactly easy to get behind Dren from the way he’s put together, so you end up using one of his legs for leverage to climb on top of his abdomen, sitting there to get easier access to his hair.

As you feared, it is horribly matted and full of knots.

You run your fingers through it as best as you can, making a mental note to invest in a hairbrush the next time you venture the marketplace. Hoping for conditioner is probably a long shot, but maybe you can pay someone to tell you where to find a substitute.

“Dude, do you ever take care of this?” you ask him, carefully unraveling a particularly stubborn knot. “Sorry,” you add quietly when he winces from the pull.

“There’s not much point,” he shrugs. His voice comes out like a soft breath, so you surmise he’s enjoying this regardless. “I could braid it to the moon and it wouldn’t make a difference.”

“What difference? That you would be able to see?” you grin, running your fingers over his scalp to collect a starting point for a braid.

He hums pleasantly as you do so, enjoying the attention. “I will still be 'a terrifying ugly creature',” he chuckles. “Just with nicer hair.”

You pull softly at his hair on purpose. It sounded like he's heard that from someone else, and perhaps you'll have to do some stern speaking to of whoever that might be. “Don’t say those things,” you scold him. “You’re none of that.”

“Ow. That’s just how I’m put together," he clarifies. "It is not a bad thing, I'm supposed to be intimidating. If I’m not, I cannot do my job properly, can I?”

You huff, starting the process of tying the stubborn strands together.

“You’re scary when you have to be, and you’re.. very good at that,” you give. You've seen it first hand on multiple occasions, after all. “But that’s because of how you act against threats. It’s on purpose. The way you look isn’t scary. Not to me.”

He pauses. You don’t miss how he starts fidgeting again. “Most would be inclined to disagree.”

“Most don’t get to braid your hair,” you tease.

He buts the back of his head against your hands in gentle retaliation, forcing you to scramble lest your work comes undone.

“Hey, hold still. I’m not done!”

You sit in silence for a bit, slowly interlocking strand by strand. A low hum and pleasant chitter occasionally escapes Dren as you work, calming noises mixed with the familiar warmth of his body almost enough to make you sleepy.

Eventually, you’ve managed to create a makeshift ponytail, held together with a small braid of his own hair.

You hop off his back, and step in front of him to admire your work. It’s not perfect by any means, but it suits him. The uncanny mixture of arachnid and human aspects of his face in full view could be off-putting, but he still has a kind face. Especially when he hits you with his usual warm and calm expressions, pitch-black eyes drawing you in.

Dren leans down and presses his face against your cheek. “Thank you. For this, and for the kind words.”

You reach up and trace your fingers around the back of his neck, leaning back into him. “And I mean it. I won’t deny that you scared me when we first met. But I like the way you look because it’s you. That would never ever scare me.”

He seemingly swallows a lump in his throat, but nods against your shoulder. You realize he's using you to hide again, and pull back to look at him. A stubborn strand has escaped your notice, and you quickly tie it back in place.

“There we are,” you announce, giving his shoulder a comradely pat, an attempt to pull him out of the stupor. “Beautiful. Not that you weren’t before, of course.”

He freezes and stares at you, wide eyed with a dumbstruck expression. "I- What?"

Whoops. You broke him.

“Sorry. Was this too much?” you ask gently.

He regains his composure after a beat, shaking his head with a chuckle, a faint blush across his cheeks. He curls his front legs around where you're standing and leans in again, pressing his forehead against yours and looking you in the eye. “Not at all."

#Colder writing #UV #What a cute prompt thank you! This was fun #UV oneshot #I will make it my life's mission to make more people appreciate the cuteness that is the spoods #have some tooth rotting fluff for your convenience #also I'm guessing the line comes from Mary on a Cross from Ghost? #drider x you #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster x reader

[vertebrates-and-pieces]

... Man, I'm going to spam you with all kinds of Morgott things, and for that I apologize in advance. X3

I think we've all come to the conclusion that he is a man starved. Not just in terms for food, but for physical contact as well.

How did he take care of himself before? What was the maximum and minimum of his self-care routine?

What are things like with his little Tarnished? How have things changed?

No need to apologize! I have a whole bunch of thoughts and this gives me an excuse to share them!

Sometimes I may get a bit busy and be unable to respond right away, but I absolutely love when people ask me stuff like this! (I honestly look forward to seeing and answering asks haha)

Also shout out to my friend @cant-even-throw-straight on this one, because we've had several conversations about this very subject.

Morgott's appearance is unkempt, shabby, but despite that, he does not seem dirty. This is a man who washes himself regularly, who does not allow his wounds to fester. He keeps himself hygienic. Think about it, he grew up in the sewers. He is intimately familiar with filth and how it can seep into forgotten crevices and open cuts. He's seen literal babies, raw and bloody at the stumps of shorn horns, tossed into waste. Infection, mold, rotten teeth… He's seen it.

He makes an effort to keep clean.

He might not treat himself kindly, but affords himself at least this one luxury. Besides, he is the de facto caretaker for something great and holy, to sully it with grime would be disrespectful, disgraceful. He will never allow his dragging tail to leave trails down hallowed halls like a slug. Similarly, he eats enough to not be fully starved, sleeps enough to be properly alert. His job is important.

That being said, his bare minimum is still not enough for him to be anywhere close to healthy. His scant hours of sleep are fitful and shallow. He has never used a bed in all his life. He sleeps at the sealed entrance of the Erdtree, ever watchful, and when he wakes, body aching from the bare stone and night's chill, he prays his thanksgiving for being allowed to slumber beneath its light and not down below in the darkness, that his sealed blood only occasionally darkens his slumber with cries of the damned. He eats only the rations he provides for the troops, and then only enough to reduce the gnawing pangs of hunger to a tolerable level. He does not cook, and does not season his food. He's eaten roaches, slugs, the occasional dead bird washed in after a storm, and rats, so many rats. He remembers what it feels like to pick their fur from between his teeth.

When he bathes, he does not warm the water. He's never needed to before, so it would be a waste to do so. He scrubs himself with a harsh, simple soap and a stiff bristled brush meant for livestock. He air dries instead of using towels. He does his best to keep his hair from matting, but there are a few places where his horns make this impossible. He shears these clumps whenever they grow out enough. He only has one item of clothing.

Even with someone who cares about him in the picture, his habits will take a significant amount of time and effort to shake.

Some will be easier than others. It won't take much to convince him to let the Tarnished use their smaller hands to snip the difficult to reach matted areas and comb his hair between his horns. But, getting him to start using a bed is going to be a bit of a battle. He's terrified of shirking his duty. He is honestly terrified of sleeping in the dark too. He needs to feel that golden light in order to feel secure enough to rest now. Probably needs to start off with a bed outside to ease him into it, and even when he sleeps indoors, it will never be with drawn curtains. Sorry darkness enjoyers, Morgott needs his tree nightlight, you should probably invest in an eye mask (or shove your face into his chest).

One positive about him, though, is that even as he takes better care of himself, he will not be wasteful, which is honestly an admirable quality for a king to have.

Bonus Thoughts:

-As long as he keeps himself clean, he smells surprisingly good. A clean, earthy musk.

-If you have to, say, travel through Caelid together for a week or two though, without access to enough clean water to spare for baths… he gets pretty smelly. Not the worst in the world, but definitely ripe: sweat and a dog in the hot sun come to mind. He will be very self-conscious about this too. He is not a fan of being dirty or stinky. He's rinsing himself in the first clean river he comes across.

-His magical projection does not need to bathe. It tends to stay as mostly a snapshot of how he was when he conjured it. He cleverly created it in such a way that it appears injured as it is attacked though. Would be very suspicious if it didn't bleed.

-Even if he refuses to use towels and it can be frustrating, getting to see him dry in the open air, rivulets of water rolling down his bare back turned to glistening honey under golden light… yeah. Gorgeous view ahead.

-

#emmie answers #the descriptions of the horrors he witnessed in the shunning grounds were originally more nasty and heartbreaking #but i decided to tone it down a bit because it was actually pretty upsetting #might do a full writeup of my thoughts about it #but one with a proper warning #morgott #morgott x tarnished #morgott x reader

[starlight-shades]

Called Home to the Depths of the Forest Ch. 7

• summary – Flashback to Simon and Johnny's first meeting. And their first full moon together.

• rating – M

• wordcount – 3.8k

• warnings – mentions of previous character deaths, mentions of Ghost's backstory

• This is my first fanfic, so please let me know if there's anything I forgot to tag. Feedback is welcome and encouraged

Ch 1. Ch. 6 Ch. 8

Read on Ao3

There was an unfamiliar tranquility to the forest that set him on edge. In his experience, silence was where he thrived. There was safety in silence. If no one could hear him, no one knew he was coming. And if Ghost didn’t hear anyone, they weren’t close enough to hurt him.

The forest was not silent. 

There was birdsong, the buzzing of insects, the crunching of leaves beneath his feet, the crash of a far off animal through the brush, the trickle of a stream. 

Silence here meant danger.

It was not silent now.

The smell of blood was sharp enough in the air that he felt he could cut himself. It was more than he expected, his traps usually weren’t enough to draw this much. 

As Ghost approached the spot where he had set a snare, he observed the red that stained the soil beneath his boots. He could hear the sounds of a larger animal struggling up ahead in the brush. 

The area was still relatively new to him; he had only bought his little plot of land a few months ago, and he had only just started on his cabin. Even so, he had thought the game trail he had set his trap on was only frequented by smaller game, nothing as big as he suspected his accidental victim was. 

When he pushed past the last bush separating him from the scene, he felt something drop in his stomach. 

Before him, writhing in its own blood was a big fucking wolf. Its fur around one of its ankles had gotten matted and crusted with blood from where the wire was digging into its skin. 

He must have made a noise when he approached because soon enough, the wolf was turning on him, snarling, the pain a haze over its eyes. 

Blue eyes. Blue like he had never seen, like he hadn’t even known was real. And seeing that blue, he was real for the first time since he had been taken by Roba. 

“Easy there,” Simon spoke, his voice steady and low. He held out a hand, as nonthreatening as a human weapon could be. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Didn’t mean to catch you.”

Hackles lowered surprisingly quickly, as if it understood him. The wolf still looked at him with suspicion, but it wasn’t really growling anymore. 

Simon approached slowly, hands in plain view, getting closer so he could get a better look at where the wolf was caught. 

The wound was violent, clearly made worse by whatever thrashing the creature had done to try and get loose. He went to pull out a water bottle, and the wolf startled, opening up the areas that had begun to scab over, and new blood seeped out of the wound.

“It’s alright, pretty thing, I’m just gonna take a look,” he murmured. 

The bottle opened with a slight ringing of the metal lid scraping along the metal threads on the lip, but the wolf did not react this time to the sound. He washed away enough of the gore that he was able to clearly see a spot on the snare he could cut without causing more damage. 

“I’m gonna take out a knife,” he said. Simon felt crazy for even imagining that an animal could understand what he was saying, but if it worked, it worked. 

The wolf stayed steady, it’s eyes locked on him, but it allowed him to unsheathe the hunting knife at his hip. With a snick of the wire breaking, it was in motion, bolting away from him. It paused for only a moment, staring at him one last time with those blue blue eyes, before it disappeared in the undergrowth. 

Belatedly, he raised a hand in farewell. 

He cleaned up the remains of his trap before heading off to the next one. It took him the remainder of the day to get through all of them and back to the site of his cabin. 

In the dying light of the day, with a small fire flickering in front of him, he cleaned and gutted the two rabbits he had caught. 

Simon wasn’t sure what overcame him, but he had the sudden urge to look up. And there, at the edge of the forest, was the wolf. It didn’t move any closer, just watched him. After a moment, he went back to cleaning his kills. He looked back up, and sure enough, the wolf was still there, watching him. When one was done, he picked it up, approaching slowly. When he was about fifteen feet away, he set the rabbit down and went back to his fire. He watched as the wolf sniffed at the rabbit cautiously before it grabbed it, retreating back into the woods. 

It wasn’t the last time the wolf reappeared. Simon would catch glimpses through the trees when he was out in the forest, or he would look up from where he was working on the cabin to suddenly meet those blue eyes. He had taken to leaving it a portion of his meal whenever it was around while he cooked. 

The two of them never got closer than about ten feet from each other, but it kept coming back. 

Occasionally, he would find what he could only describe as “offerings” left for him. Birds, rabbits, and once an entire deer would be waiting for him when he emerged from his tent in the morning. He never heard the wolf coming or going in the night, but inexplicably, there would be a gift left for him. Simon was especially baffled when he woke up one morning to a pile of blackberries waiting for him, perfect and unharmed by sharp teeth. 

It was a cold autumn day when it happened. 

He was out checking his traps once again. By this point, he had fallen into a routine. His cabin was almost finished. It would be ready for winter. The weather had taken a turn over the past week, abruptly divorcing from the warmth of summer and careening wildly towards winter. 

It would be his first winter here. Maybe that was why he was unprepared when he stumbled across the deer. Later, he would learn, it was the time of their rut, the mating season. 

And he had walked right in front of a male with his herd of hinds. The beast had an enormous set of antlers, and he was unafraid to use them. 

It was one of the first times when Simon had truly felt unmatched. 

He had not come prepared to fight for his life that day, and as it bellowed its rage at him, the rush of ice through his veins kept him trapped. There was not a single thought in his mind of what to do. His experience of primal violence was exclusive to the realm of humanity. 

But he was not one to surrender without a fight, and with a steady grip on his hunting knife, he prepared to taste the spears of those antlers deep in his viscera. 

There must have been something divine that wanted him to live because before the stag could gore him, a blur of movement too fast to track was rocketing across the clearing, tackling it to the ground. A snarling mass of fur tore into the beast, ripping out its throat as it let out a wailing trumpet, abruptly cut off. 

Simon blinked and there was a naked man, covered in blood grasping his face in his hands. 

“Are ye alright, bonnie? Ah was so scared ah’d be too late.” 

Blue. His eyes were blue. Simon knew those eyes. He was real.

Sleep sloughed from him slowly. He blinked away the haze to discover a familiar face staring back at him. 

Johnny reached out and pushed a lock of hair off his forehead, back behind his ear.

“You were dreaming something fierce,” he whispered, smiling softly. 

They were still in the pile of blankets, plushes, and pillows on the floor. Ailsa and Duncan slept, their warm bodies pressed between them. They had shifted back sometime in the night, and Johnny had too apparently.

Simon grunted, grabbing hold of his hand when Johnny moved to take it back. He held it to his face, closing his eyes and breathing in. 

“What were you dreaming about?” Johnny asked when he opened his eyes again.

Blue. Simon was real.

“You,” he murmured. 

“Me?” There was an almost hesitant quality to his grin this morning. 

“Mhmmm. When we first met.” 

They kept their voices low, neither wanting to disturb the sleeping children. 

Johnny’s smile turned teasing.

“Oh, right, when you caught me in a trap that almost cut off my foot.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was still a small smile on his face. “Because I totally expected there to be a wolf in the trap I set for small animals.”

“Then you won me over with all that food. Should have known then that you were a pathetic cook.” 

“It still worked, didn’t it?” He let go of Johnny’s hand to reach out and ruffle the messy mohawk he was sporting. 

“What can I say?” he chuckled. “I’m a cheap date.”

They lapsed into silence, just looking at each other, allowing themselves a slow start to their day. Their hands found each other once again, tangling their fingers together over the blankets. 

The jovial mirth on Johnny’s face gradually fell away. Simon could tell he was thinking hard about something, but let him work it out in his own time. He would speak up when he was ready.

“Tonight's the full moon,”Johnny whispered, serious this time. 

“Yeah?” Simon wasn’t really sure what that meant, but the other man sounded grave. 

“When they wake up, I’m gonna take the pups. We’ll be out until tomorrow morning.” 

Brows furrowing, Simon questioned, “Why? I thought the full moon bit about werewolves was a myth. You shift back and forth all the time.”

Johnny’s hold on his hand tightened. “Aye, for the most part, but there’s a danger to the full moon. If you get bit, even accidentally, you’ll turn. I don’t wanna risk it.”

“I thought it was hereditary?”

“It is, but humans can become werewolves too. Only under the full moon, if they get bit, do they change.”

He was silent for another moment. If something happened, he wouldn’t be able to protect them. Simon knew that Johnny was a formidable opponent, especially in his wolf-shape, but he couldn’t help the anxiety that threaded through him at the idea that they would be out of his reach. All three of them. 

“I trust you,” he whispered like a confession. 

Simon took their hands and pulled them to him, pressing his lips gently against Johnny’s knuckles. 

“I need you to be careful, though. I don’t like how that detective was acting.”

“Aye. I’ll take them up to Price and Gaz so if anything happens, I’ll have backup.”

He sighed. “Alright.”

This time, the quiet hung heavy between them. 

It was broken by the blare of Simon’s phone ringing. 

He got up to answer it as Johnny greeted Ailsa and Duncan who had been startled away by the ringtone. 

“Simon,” came the voice on the other end as soon as he picked up. 

“Kate.”

“I’ll be up next week with all of the documents for the children.”

“I appreciate it, but that’s really not necessary, you can just send them,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Simon had never intended to get anyone else involved, and here he was neck deep. First it had been Johnny, then Price and Gaz, and now Laswell. 

He knew her from his time in the SAS, and over the years they worked together, he had grown to trust her. Kate was probably the only one who knew everything about him. She had been the one to help him become the Ghost (she had also helped him get his testosterone when he his status as legally dead became an issue with his previous prescription).

After he got picked up over the US border after his time with Roba in Mexico, she had swooped in. The things they did had been only vaguely legal sometimes, but the work they did had kept people safe. 

So when he needed help forging papers for Duncan and Ailsa, he knew he had to call her for help.

“Simon,” she said, her voice hard. “It’s been years since I’ve heard from you. The last time we spoke, you had decided to become a hermit in the woods, and now you have two children in your care? I’m coming.”

“Kate—“

“You don’t even have to host me. I’ve got an old friend up around that same area I’ll be staying with.”

He sighed again. “You have the coordinates?”

“Yes. I’ll see you next week.”

“Fine.”

He glared at the phone before he hung it up in its cradle. Reaching up, he dragged his hands down his face. There were moments these past few weeks where life paused just enough for him to miss his quiet existence before Duncan and Ailsa tumbled into his life. 

“Simon!”

But then those moments passed. 

A little body crashed into his legs, latching little arms around him. He looked down and smiled at Ailsa. She had also sandwiched her owl toy between them. Her hair was soft against his fingers as he gently pet her head. 

“Johnny says we have to leave you!” she despaired.

“Och, Ailsa, that is not what I said!” Johnny rebutted, following her into the kitchen with Duncan at his side. 

Simon chuckled, scooping her into his arms with a grunt. 

“It’s just for today. You’ll be back tomorrow, and you and your brother will get to see Gaz and Price! You have fun with them, don’t you?” He did his best to reassure her. 

As much as he hated to see her upset like this, there was part of him that was thrilled that she was wailing because it meant he could address her concerns. She could actually speak to him and tell him what she was worried about. 

She sniffed, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest. 

“Yeah, but I don’ wanna leave you! Can’t you come with us?”

“I want you to come with us,” Duncan repeated, shuffling closer. 

“But it’s the full moon,” Johnny tried to argue. “That’s a wolf thing, and Simon isn’t a wolf like us.”

He didn’t necessarily want to be a wolf, but the reminder that he was not the same as them was not pleasant. 

“It’s alright, loves,” he said, ignoring his own feelings. Much like he had with Johnny’s this morning in bed, he ruffled Duncan’s hair, rebalancing Ailsa on his hip. “I’ll just be working on the cabin today. It’ll be more fun with Johnny and Gaz and Price.”

“Price smells like smoke,” Ailsa declared, wrinkling her nose. 

Johnny snorted. “Well he’s a dragon, so the smell lingers. The cigars don't help either.”

The pups visibly brightened at the revelation. 

“How big is he?”

“Does he breathe fire?”

“Can he fly?”

“What color are his scales?”

Before they could ask any more questions, Simon interrupted. “I bet you could ask him all your questions when you go see him.”

Luckily that was enough to convince them. 

After a quick breakfast, Simon saw them to the front door. He was surprised when Duncan doubled back to give him a tight hug.

“I’ll miss you.”

He had to stop himself from crushing the boy to his chest. There were echoes of another little boy he had held so tightly. Nothing was more precious than these children. 

“I’ll miss you too, Bug,” he murmured into his hair, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. 

When he released him, Ailsa launched herself at him, knocking the breath from his lungs for a moment. 

“We’ll be back,” she promised. 

“I know,” he told her, holding her close one last time before he let them go. 

Simon met Johnny’s eyes as the pups shifted, something yet unspoken hanging between them. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded. Simon didn’t trust himself not to beg them to stay. 

He watched Johnny strip down before his shift, memorizing how he looked here in their home. And it was their home. Simon wasn’t sure when it had stopped being his cabin alone. Some time over the last month, it was no longer just his home in his mind. It was theirs, the four of them together. 

Muscle stretched and changed, fur sprouted, and limbs contorted into new shapes as Johnny adopted his wolf-shape. Where a man once stood, a beautiful brown wolf shook out his fur, familiar blue eyes looking back at Simon. 

From the doorway, he watched as the three wolves bounded across their clearing, heading to the tree line. Just when he thought they would disappear from view, Johnny stopped abruptly. He gave the pups a low woof before sprinting back to Simon. Easy as the flow of water, wolf became man once again as he crashed into Simon.

This embrace was different, he could tell. He breathed in Johnny, the scent of his warm skin something he hadn’t realized he would miss. 

“One more thing before I go,” Johnny started, speaking into Simon’s neck. He couldn't stop himself from shivering at the sensation of Johnny’s breath on his skin. They fit so easily together, Johnny’s head tucked beneath his chin.

“Anything.”

Johnny pulled back only far enough to look him in the eye. 

“Simon Riley, will you go out with me?”

His brain short-circuited. All that came out was a shocked sputter.

Johnny grinned. “When we get back, I want to take you on a date. Will you go out with me?”

“Yes,” he laughed, not quite believing what he was hearing. 

With one last press of their foreheads together, Johnny tore himself away again. 

“See you soon, Si.”

“See you soon, Johnny.”

In a mirror of his first exit, Johnny ran back to Duncan and Ailsa, shifting as he went, not breaking his stride when he hit the tree line. 

The rest of the day was too quiet. 

True to his word, he worked on the cabin. He got a lot further than he normally would since he didn’t have to watch the pups, and the only interruption to his work was when he stopped for lunch, then eventually dinner. 

It was odd, going back to the routine he had when he first moved to the area. This time, he was grateful he had a hot shower to look forward to. 

But it was unfortunate that he had so much time to do nothing but think. His body was moving, but he couldn’t escape the prison of his own mind. 

Were they safe? They had to be, Johnny wouldn’t lie to him. Price and Gaz had earned his trust so far, he felt fairly certain that they would protect their little pack. 

He didn’t like that he was the reason they even had to leave at all. Simon was the only human. Even if Gaz and Price weren’t wolves, they were still supernatural beings themselves. They were safe from any accidental bites.

He was the only one fragile enough to be broken. 

And would it really be so bad if he was a wolf? 

Johnny had acted like it was one of the worst things that could happen, but he had been a wolf his whole life. And he was happy. Wasn’t he? He hadn’t ever indicated to Simon that he wanted to be anything other than what he was. And Johnny hadn’t ever said anything to the pups to make Simon think that he thought being a wolf was bad in any way. He seemed so supportive of teaching them how to embrace that part of themselves.

And it wasn’t like this would be the first time Simon would have changed his body so dramatically. 

He paused in his work. The weather was warm enough that he had taken his shirt off. 

It had been a long time since he had thought about it. 

Simon had transitioned shortly before joining the military. It had faded to the background of his mind, overtaken by other, bigger experiences. Every scar on his body mapped out his story, and the keloid scars beneath his pecs were just one of many. 

He could do it again. He could change his body to be better suited to his life. 

Then he could be there, could protect Duncan and Ailsa and Johnny any time they needed him. He wouldn’t have to be shuffled to the sidelines when he couldn’t measure up, his human strength too inadequate to compete with supernatural might. 

When night fell and the dreaded full moon made her appearance, Simon laid in his freshly made bed and stared at the ceiling. Distantly, he thought he could hear howling. The night passed slowly, but he couldn’t sleep, too consumed by his thoughts. He was surrounded by all of Duncan and Ailsa’s toys, had tossed one of Johnny’s sweatshirts in too, but he couldn’t escape his solitude.

Before long, the early rays of sunrise crept through the window. 

Feeling defeated, Simon closed his eyes and waited. 

He was startled awake when he felt the bed dip under someone else’s weight. 

“Hey, Si, just us,” Johnny whispered, crawling in with Duncan and Ailsa, still in wolf-shape, following behind him. “Price and Gaz are crashed in the living room.”

“Hi,” he murmured with a sleep-soaked voice, welcoming Johnny as he slipped next to him under the covers. 

The other man tucked himself into his side, the pups cuddling into the curve of his other side, settling into sleep quickly. 

When he was sure he and Johnny were the only ones left awake, and Johnny only barely, Simon spoke. 

“Would you rather take care of Ailsa and Duncan with another werewolf?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. He felt Johnny startle where he had cuddled into his side.

“What are you on about?”

“Because I’m human. I obviously can’t keep you as safe as another werewolf could. You wouldn't have to leave for the full moon.” 

“Look at me,” Johnny murmured, touching the side of his face softly to direct his gaze back to him. 

Blue. He was real.

“There’s no one else I would do this with, Si. You’re the best of them.”

“Johnny,” he whispered, searching for his face for any hint of uncertainty. 

“You, Simon. Not Price, not Gaz, not some other wolf. You, human, Simon.”

He hadn't realized the weight of his thoughts until this perfect, beautiful man pressed their mouths together, stealing all of his doubts with an unhurried kiss. 

#soapghost #fic #my writing #soap #ghost #ghostsoap #cod fanfic #werewolf soap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley

[void-botanist]

Rose's Kiss Week Day 6: Home Alone

OCs: Sierra Callawel and Ian Carlisle (Spinder's oldest sister and her husband)

Words: 1189

Content warnings: none

Notes: Ian's canid form is a common raccoon dog. It is also well-known that shifting to that form makes you itchy.

When Sierra looked up from her computer, she could see the full moon hanging too-large over the faraway trees outside her window.  She’d lost track of time.  Ian would be transformed, now, and she hadn’t seen him at all.  She locked her computer and stood up.  The kids were out, so making a circuit of the house wouldn’t draw them out of their rooms and interrupt the nice night she wanted to spend alone with her husband.

“Ian?” she called as she started up the stairs.  “Where are you?”

She heard a mournful squeaky-toy noise from somewhere down the hall and smiled to herself as she went to find the source of it.  When she flipped on the light in her bedroom, she got a louder and angrier squeak from the bed, where a golden brown and black fluff of a dog was burying his little face under his front paws.

“Sorry,” she said, going to turn on her bedside lamp before turning off the overhead light.  He didn’t raise his head until she sat down on the side of the bed, and then he tried to crawl in her lap immediately.

Laughing, she held him back gently and got fully onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard before she let him snuffle his way into her space.  He seemed content to put his paws across her legs and rest his head on them, but she scooped him up all the way, holding him close against her.  His response was to put his paws on her arm and set his head there instead.  He was probably just tired after transforming, but he always looked so cute and sad in his dog form, and it made her want to hug him tighter.  So she did, pressing her cheek to the top of his fuzzy little head and then kissing him there.  He let out a longer squeak, stretching his neck out further, and as she petted his head she followed his gaze to the brush he’d set out for her.  Oh, of course.  Grabbing it was a bit of a stretch, and she almost dumped him out of her arms accidentally, but once it was in her hand she settled him in her lap and began running it through his fur in long strokes, head to rump.  Instantly he was a dog-shaped puddle in her lap, his only reaction little snuffles of pleasure.  

When she paused to pull out the mat of hair that had collected in the brush, he rolled over onto his back, cradled in her crossed legs.  She scratched behind his ears while she drew the brush along the contours of his ribcage and haunches and arms.  He didn’t even tense as she carefully brought it over his neck and chin.  As soon as she set the brush aside, though, he was getting back out of her lap, jumping down onto the floor with a cacophony of clicking nails and pausing in the doorway to look back at her.  She smiled and followed him back downstairs to the kitchen, where he waited by the table while she got their dinner out of the fridge: sliced chicken, lentils, and a touch of cranberry sauce.  For him, at least.  She could have as much as she wanted.  His was already in a bowl, so once she pried off the lid she set it in front of him on the floor.  He wagged his tail but didn’t move.  While she made her own plate from the main bowls of food, she saw him bend down and sniff his bowl, his eyes never leaving her.  

“You can start without me,” she said.  

He made a sound somewhere between a shriek and a growl and sat straight again. With a laugh she returned the food bowls to the fridge and brought her plate to the table.  

“Blessed be the fruits of the earth, and us among them,” she said, and he squeaked out the same cadence before shoving his face in his bowl.  She ate with half an eye on him inhaling his food, mostly because his enthusiasm was adorable.  

On the way back to bed she carried him up the stairs, letting him jump down on the bed before she got into her pajamas.  He didn’t stay on the bed, though, since she had to go to the bathroom to brush her teeth and he apparently had the energy now to not let her leave his sight.  He brushed against her ankles where she stood in front of the sink, hopped in the bathtub, and started rolling around on the textured treads on the bottom of it.  That was why he was accompanying her.  He’d told her before that there was something sublime about the feeling of the bathtub treads specifically that he really couldn’t explain.  He didn’t feel that way about them in human form.  She didn’t care as long as he didn’t leave his fur in the tub, though she was often the one who cleared it out to take a shower anyway.  But it was worth it to see him being so happy in there.  When she left the bathroom, he followed, and she scooped him back onto the bed.  He curled up right next to her while she read her book for a bit.  After she turned out the light, he yipped along with her presleep prayer, and she gave him a last pet on the head before relaxing into the dark.

At the crack of dawn the sudden weight on the bed woke her.  In the light that sifted around the edges of the curtains she could see Ian, now fully human, getting under the covers.  He turned his back to her—he might not even remember that his transformation always woke her up—but she came over to him anyway, putting a hand on his side as she kissed his shoulder.  When he shifted onto his back, she kissed his scratchy cheek, then gave him a peck on the lips before leaning back on her elbow to look at him.  There was always something a little canine about him to her, but it was stronger when he’d just come back—the way he blinked at her like a sleepy dog melded with the way he still smelled of fur.  And it was his smell, because he smelled the same if she met him in the middle of the hallway, or raiding the fridge downstairs.  After he took a shower it would fade, but for now she breathed it deeply.  She could never explain it to anyone but him, but these were the hours when he smelled most like himself, like her Ian.    

His hand slipped into the curls at the back of her head, guiding her into a deeper kiss.  She wrapped an arm around his warm chest as he smoothed his other hand over her shoulder.  He kissed her a second time, then ever so gently pushed her away.  

“Okay, I’m sleeping now,” he said with a tired smile.

She caressed his cheek, then laid back on her side of the bed.  “Goodnight.”

RKW taglist: @jezifster @kk7-rbs @vacantgodling

Shifters taglist: @outpost51 @kk7-rbs

#Sierra is generally known to be caring but sharp and humorless. then there's moon nights #I love what this implies about their two adopted shifter children who very likely have the same moon as Ian #there are other places they go and feel safe shifting. I don't know where but. Spinder's probably been there #I wonder if there are shift clubs. idk how you could possibly enforce that though #I have been forever changed by Patricia Taxxon's On The Ethics of Boinking Animal People btw #even though this clearly is not “boinking” or really even “animal people” I now aspire to write stuff like this in a sensory way #beyond that I also think it's interesting how people inhabit liminal spaces with the things they enjoy #it's most obvious in kink but shifters do a lot of the lifting for me lol #I guess the reason I have never committed to making shifters have anthro animal forms is I don't have anything interesting to do w that #but having a person cross the line between how we treat husbands and how we treat pets...that's intriguing #still working out the details of being in canid form tho #also don't ask me what their religion is I don't know lol #c: Sierra #c: Ian #rose's kiss week #rose writ

[shadowqueen402]

Canine Cat-astrophe: Chapter 3



(With Balan's group)

Back in Sana's stage, Balan's group had gathered around to discuss on how they would take care of Balan. "Okay, Sana and I have reached a conclusion," Eis said. "We will all take turns on tending Balan's needs. One of us will feed and give Balan fresh water. One of us will walk Balan. And one of us will play with him."

"Taking care of a dog should be easy, right?" Leo asked. "I've never had to raise one before up until now…"

"Trust me, Leo," Sana said. "It's far from easy. Especially since you have to not only train the dog, but you have to make sure that the dog is fed, has fresh water, and doesn't run out. Plus, dogs are known to be rather energetic and loud."

"Why don't I start by walking Balan?" Trisha Jane asked. "That way, it will help him tone down a bit and make it slightly easier for us to take turns taking care of him."

"Are you sure you're up for this, Trisha?" Jose asked. "Don't forget, Balan may be a dog, but there's still a chance that he may have his energy."

"As long as I keep a tight grip on the leash, I should be good." Trisha Jane smiled before turning to Balan. "Speaking of which, we should get him a leash before we can take on any walks. Balan, do you want a walk?"

Balan's tail wagged fast as he let out a bunch of excited barks. This caused Trisha Jane and Kaylo to giggle. "Even as a dog, it's still Balan deep down." Kaylo grinned.

"Well, I'm going to get him a leash," Trisha Jane said. "I'll be back. I won't be long." She turned around left Sana's stage to make her way back to the real world.

"While we wait for Trisha Jane to get back with the leash, let's—," Kaylo stopped when she noticed that Balan was gone. "Hey, where did Balan go?"

Eis turned and gasped when he saw Balan chasing after the birds. "Balan, no!" He then ran at full speed to catch up with the dog. Sana and the others ran to help Eis stop Balan from getting to the birds.

(With Lance's group)

Meanwhile, in Bruce's stage, the older-aged gentleman discussed with the others about what they should do. "We should get Lance some cat toys," Bruce stated. "While it is true that cats like to lay around, Lance does deserve some exercise."

"I know a pet shop in Timeville that sells cat toys and cat supplies!" Cass said. "I can get some for Lance! Especially the catnip-filled ones."

"Since Lance has long hair, we'll definitely need a brush," Rebecca said. "Long-haired cats shed a lot. Not to mention, they're prone to having mats in their fur."

"Despite this, cats usually don't require walks," Iben said. "So they're rather low maintenance. I think it will be easy to take care of Lance."

"Speaking of which, where is Lance?" Aria asked, looking around. "Wasn't he here, lounging nearby, just a while ago?" But then, everyone heard a terrified "SQUEAK" from up ahead. "Please tell me that isn't what I think it is…"

Suddenly, a large rat with brown fur scurried towards the group. It was being chased by none other than Lance himself. Aria, Iben, Emma, Yuri, and Rebecca screamed and backed away from the scurrying rodent.

Bruce, on the other hand, grabbed a broom from nearby and started to try hitting the rat. However, just before he could land another hit, Lance pounced at the rat and grabbed it with his jaws.

The group gasped at Lance's brave act. "Okay, kitty." Yuri said. "Do you think you could be so kind as to get rid of the rat for us, please?"

Lance just stared up at Yuri for a good minute…

…….

…Then, he released the rat which caused it to scurry around and scare everyone on Bruce's stage. Again.

Kaylo belongs to @kayssweetdreams

Trisha Jane belongs to @lovelyteng

Rebecca belongs to @thehyperrequiem

Aria belongs to me.

#balan wonderworld #fanfic #ocs #balan #leo craig #sana hudson #eis glover #fiona demetria #inhabitants

[whumpacabra]

Day 16: Came Back Wrong

Past trauma, sensory overload, headache, pain medication, flashback, referenced smoking, implied past torture and captivity

[Follows Butchering]

It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t.

He survived. He endured. He went through that hell and it still broke him beyond repair.

East paced his room in circles, ears ringing too loud to hear the voices down stairs. What was wrong with him? Why was he scared of these civilians?

(He knew why, but logic didn’t calm the spike of terror found in a whiff of tobacco smoke or a laugh too loud or an unwanted hand brushing his shoulder - )

“Oi, East, you alright in there?” He nearly choked on his own breath, the knock at the door soft and the voice low. Tierney.

“Fine. Headache.” East grit between his teeth. It wasn’t entirely a lie - the adrenaline rush and his malfunctioning implants were giving him a headache.

“Oh, alright. Let me get you some Advil - ”

“That’s not - ” East sighed with a groan, sinking to the floor at the foot of his bed and putting his head in his hands. He didn’t know if he would be able to stomach anything, or even bear to see another person right now.

Why was this so hard? He had finally accepted that it was over - he wasn’t going back. He was free. He was out.

And yet, and yet -

Everything about that place clung to him, a film between him and the life he was supposed to be free to enjoy. It felt like he could never touch that world. It felt like everything he tried to touch was tainted by that film.

He was out. But he was still broken.

(The Wolf was still in its cage, somewhere under foreign sand.)

East flinched as the door hinges squealed - ever so softly - when Tierney nudged the door open.

“Dark as balls in here man - oh, right, headache, light, bad - right.” Tierney was a silhouette against the soft yellow light filtering up the stairs. “Hey, I got some Advil and some Tylenol ‘cause I didn’t know which you’d want - and some water. Water’s good for hangovers so it’s probably good for whatever headache you’ve got going on.”

Tierney talked too much. But at least listening to him made East’s brain shut up for a few seconds.

“Thanks.” He whispered in reply, voice hoarse. Always hoarse, always gravelly…another permanent change, just like the scars engraved in his back - encircling his throat -

(The Wolf wore a collar it couldn’t shake, a brand burned too deep to be hidden by matted fur.)

“It’s no problem man. They’re getting a little rowdy down there for me too.” Tierney cautiously left the door ajar behind himself, like he knew locking the Wolf East in a small space with another person was a bad idea.

Tierney crouched an arms length from East, holding out the plastic cup and pills. He took the cup, careful not to touch Tierney’s hand, and held out his other, palm up. For all his party boy loudmouthed impulsiveness, Tierney picked up on this and dropped the pills into East’s hand without question.

East swallowed the pills, raising the glass of water water to his lips -

There was a shout and a bang downstairs, a hand slammed on the table as the card game came to a head. All the Wolf could hear was a gunshot, a door slammed shut, a voice he could hear but couldn’t understand - and there was water splashing into his lungs, and he couldn’t breathe -

(The Wolf sprung to its feet, tail wagging but tucked between its legs. This pain and panic was comfortable - familiar, like a Devil it knew. Had it’s master returned?)

He reached out blindly, he wanted - needed - to see that his hands were unbound, he wasn’t tied down, he wasn’t back -

A small, calloused hand took his frantic fingers, another tentatively bracing against his shoulder.

“Easy…the bloody cunts - I’ll tell ‘em to quiet down, you - Jesus, East, you good?” The coughs wracking his body gave way to shuddering breaths, fingers squeezing Tierney’s hand tightly. Alive. Still alive. Touching his bare skin - East recoiled, shaking away Tierney’s hands, breathing still a little too fast.

“Fine.” He grumbled, trying to rebuild his walls while the waves of anxiety dissolved their foundations. “Now fuck off and let me rest my eyes.”

“Aye, goodnight East.” Tierney stood with a huff of amusement, a spring in his step. Young and carefree and oblivious to the way East curled in on himself as the door latched closed.

He was free.

He was out.

If he just told himself that enough, he would one day believe it.

Wouldn’t he?

(The Wolf gnawed at the bars of its cage, teeth broken and bloody, ignoring the open door.)

[Before Out?]

(Part of my Freelancers: Changing Tides series)

#whump #past trauma #sensory overload #headache #pain medication #flashbacks #referenced smoking #past torture #past captivity #freelancers #woooo random halfway house arc chapter without context let’s gooooo #better a day late than never. hopefully i'll get around to today's later #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday16

[leyswhumpdump]

Hidden Ink #1: Hunting Trip

Inspired by this post by @albino-whumpee about rough caretakers and feral whumpees.

Hidden Ink masterlist

Tropes and CWs: Hunter caretaker, reluctant caretaker, hissy kitten whumpee, brief blood mention, leg-in-beartrap whump, some swearing.

Mika rose before the sun did, fumbling with the hurricane-lamp until its glow illuminated the inside of the cabin. It was one his father had left him, a centuries-old relic that still worked by some miracle. By the time he’d pulled on his hunting boots and helped himself to the berries and jerky he’d scraped together the night before, the lamp was no longer strictly necessary. He made sure to turn it off before he went out.

It had rained in the night. Mika could smell the petrichor in the soil and on the trees. When he brushed past a shrub to get to the forest track, the leaves left wet smears where they’d made contact. He shivered a little—the rain had absorbed most of the unbearable heat from the day before—and lifted his bow away from the foliage to help keep it dry. The morning birds sang to each other in the canopy above.

The first thing to do, Mika decided, would be to check on the traps. He’d set up a few new ones yesterday, a little more efficient than some of the others. He hadn’t forgotten the way something had pulled itself loose, dragging the trap with it. Mika had followed the trail of blood some way before he’d concluded he wasn’t getting the trap back. It had been a harsh lesson and, if his father had still been alive, he would not have let him forget it. The size of whatever he’d initially captured would have kept him fed for weeks.

“All right,” he muttered to himself as he pushed away waist-high ferns. As much as he’d tried to maintain the path he’d beaten, the local flora had other ideas. “First trap—up here…”

First trap was empty, of course. Mika checked briefly for damage, then let it be.

“Second trap…”

And then he heard the deer. Thrashing, loud thrashing. Instinct pressed him against a nearby tree trunk, turning his face towards the sound. The bow trembled a little in his grip. Something big. He needed to not mess this up. Land a few arrows in it, finish it off before it caught wind of him and struggled even harder…

His back still to the tree, he manoeuvred with a hunter’s practised silence. Get a good view, get a good shot. He reached for the quiver at his hip, his fingers seeking an arrow. He drew back the string, aiming that arrow at the writhing patch of darkness, and waited for the moment.

Something stayed his hand. Not a conscious realisation, but an itch that urged him to reconsider. He lowered the bow, returning the arrow to its quiver before he’d even realised what he was doing. Stalling… why was he stalling? He was almost out of food at the cabin, with each trip this past week having ended in failure. He couldn’t afford to pass this up, and yet…

The deer sobbed. Mika had killed plenty, and was familiar with their dying throes. He had never heard one make that sound before. And that weakly struggling darkness didn’t have the form of a deer; the configuration of the limbs suggested something closer to home. The early sun illuminated the side of a face, and a matted tangle of hair that did not resemble a deer’s fur.

“Oh, fuck.” Mika ran forward.

Prising the trap away would have been perfectly possible with the correct technique. The person caught in its jaws did not know the technique. Mika saw rips on the trouser leg where they’d tried to brute-force it, saw the splatters of new and dried blood on the leaves of the forest floor. He couldn’t blame the captive for that. The position of the trap on their ankle had forced them to the ground, pressing their face into dirt. Even for someone who knew what they were doing, who knew the release mechanisms like Mika did, it would not have been a straightforward task. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise anyone would be… Here, I’ll help you.”

A scream startled the surrounding birds into silence. The thrashing recommenced, but without focus. Mika tried to catch the imprisoned leg and received a kick from the other. He was about to try again when a stone smacked him in the shoulder. A quick glimpse told him the captive was scrabbling in the dirt for another.

“Will you stop?” The impact of the first one would leave a bruise. Drawing back his bow-string was not going to be fun. “I’m not trying to hurt you!”

The captive’s hand did not still. Mika saw them grab another rock, this one much bigger. He did not hang around to see if they were strong enough to throw it. Instead he tackled the arm, using his weight to pin it against the ground, and the captive screamed until his ears rang. Under all the dirt, they were young. Probably a boy, although the presented profile and neutrally messy hair made it difficult for Mika to confirm that. Whoever and whatever they were, they were not content to let Mika contain them further. Mika had to duck his head as teeth snapped at his ear.

“I’m trying to help,” he snarled. “Help. Not hurt. Help.”

The boy hissed something incoherent, trying to raise his free arm to take a swipe. Mika shifted his weight so he was sitting between his shoulder blades. “If you keep wriggling, you’re going to do yourself a worse injury.”

Gradually the boy’s struggles stilled, although his shoulders heaved below Mika. Muttering to himself, Mika turned his attentions to the trapped leg. He knew he had no right to get so impatient, and indeed it was mostly a cover for the guilt. He’d set that trap, and a human being had stumbled into it.

“I’ll be quick,” he promised, and got to work on the mechanism. The jaws opened with a click, the metal teeth stained with the boy’s blood. “There, it’s done. I’m sorry again…”

The boy scrambled up, dragging his injured leg. Mika could tell from his stance that his centre of gravity was off. A pale, trembling hand reached for a discarded backpack that Mika hadn’t noticed. He was about to call him back, tell him he needed to look at the wound, when the boy’s balance gave out. Mika grabbed him, half-expecting a snap or a snarl, but the boy seemed to be beyond that. Glassy eyes stared uncomprehendingly under heavy lids as Mika lowered him to the ground.

“Great,” Mika muttered. Without a deadweight, the cabin was a half-hour away. He did not like to think about how much more difficult the journey would be if he had to drag the boy along narrow trails and treacherously steep slopes. He’d done it before with deer carcasses, and the multiple trips always left him exhausted. Slicing the boy into manageable parts would not be an option here.

“We’ll get that leg seen to,” he promised, hauling the weakly stirring shape over his shoulder.

The boy dug his nails into Mika’s back, a rebellion that reminded Mika just what he was signing himself up for.

Part 2

#whump #whump writing #caretaker pov #hunting whump #feral whumpee #reluctant caretaker #hidden ink #original post

[tonguetiedraven]

bonrin doing each others hair

I made this a before bed thing. I hope that's okay <3

— — — — —

Rin rambled whenever Ryuuji brushed his hair. He’d talk about whatever came to his mind, purring occasionally when Ryuuji would drag his fingers through the shaggy locks, checking the length and making sure there weren’t any large knots that would need a bit more attention to untangle.

Ryuuji seldom responded — he seldom needed to — it was just a time for Rin to talk about whatever had his mind occupied without any feel of judgment. Ryuuji would hum his interest if it lulled, offer an opinion if it was needed, and learn about whatever thing Rin was fascinated by. It could be his mangas, some new demon, a recipe, a spice, or anything else under the sun. The topics weren’t always connected, but Rin was always passionate about them and by the time Ryuuji had gone over his entire head, Rin was practically buzzing with contentment. 

Ryuuji always let him know he was finished with a kiss to his nape, because Rin rarely noticed him setting the brush aside, and he could never quite stop himself from running his fingers through the now tangle-free hair and feeling the silky softness against his skin.

Rin would wiggle around when he did notice and press a cheerful kiss to Ryuuji’s lips. He’d then clamber behind Ryuuji and grab the brush up before shifting to his knees to get to Ryuuji’s hair. He was too short to do it like Ryuuji had.

Ryuuji seldom talked when they did this part. He typically closed his eyes and let his mind wander over his own day, sorting through anything that had upset him and focusing on the soothing sensation. The slights scratch of the brush against his scalp, the ticklish tugs at his hair, the gentle touch of Rin’s fingers… It was all a fantastic sort of grounding. Something to keep him anchored while he meditated his own worries and tension away.

Rin always stuck his tongue out as he worked, super focused on doing a good job and not hurting. He never pulled, though he seemed quite worried about it. 

It was a good end to the day. They were typically too busy to tend to each other’s hair in the morning, but when they did, it was quicker and more purposeful then this relaxing setting. 

Rin would set the brush down again, and they’d finish any final preparations for bed, because the final part of the ritual always resulted in a conked out Rin. 

Rin’s tail got tangled and matted despite Rin’s best efforts. Keeping it hidden meant a lot of fabric friction, and having it free meant it picked up dust and things from around the environment. Ryuuji tended to it carefully, and he was always a bit breathless at the reality that Rin trusted him to do that.

He sat next to Rin (who would already be sprawled out on his stomach) and ran his hand down the length of the tail, grinning a little when it flicked up and slid over his arm in an intimate and affectionate caress.

He’d bend down just long enough to press a kiss to Rin’s cheek, and then settle back to start the careful and methodical work of brushing out Rin’s tail. He never brushed the fur the wrong way — Rin had described that as the feeling you got when nails were dragged over a chalk board, awful and impossible to concentrate on anything while it was going on — and he tried extra hard to never pull. 

By the time he was finished and drawing the brush through the thickest and longest fur in long, smooth strokes, Rin would be out and snoring up the happiest of storms. Ryuuji would kiss him again, put the brush away, and cuddle up to him just to have Rin’s tail curl around his leg.

It was one of his favorite ways to fall asleep, all relaxed and cared for, and he fell asleep with a smile more often than not, Rin safe in his arms with his tangle-free hair spread across their shared pillow.

#bonrin #bon x rin #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #my tumblr fics #rin okumura #ryuuji suguro #bon suguro #ryuji suguro #aoex #bon/rin #bonfire

[goblinchangelingwhatever]

Genshin character thoughts/headcannons maybe

Kinda angsty i guess?

Kaeya

Lots of people portray him as like a fuck boy type and its definetly cannon that hes flirtatious but i think he actually fakes a huge part of his confidence to hide how insecure he feels not just from his past but not really having any strong roots anywhere

And maybe he acts playful and flirtatious so he can just shrug off any even suspicion of insecurity but also from a sense of fear of abandonment, he can't get hurt if it looks like he didnt care in the first place right?

So while i think its accurate that hes a big flirt i feel hed more lead a lot of people on around mondstadt that had crushes on him, flirting with them or even taking up a date but never showing up or growing distance as soon as some real emotions start to form

Gorou

I cant help thinking thats hes gonna struggle taking care of his fur when hes doing hot boy army general stuff

Like we already know hes shy about his tail and ears and doesnt let many if any one touch them, but that added to days travelling across the land with his troops?

And he's mentioned that he likes to travel light with the bare essentials so its likely he skips out on a brush and conditioner

Theres probably the sea or some freshwater they all can freshen up with but with days of travelling with bare essentials, dust n sweat and rough sleeping and then combat i reckon his fur would get matted pretty quick

He also mentioned that he has to be careful around fire n stuff because obviously his fur catches alight but no one said anything about about burns or even scars or patches missing from fire accidents in battle

I just wanna look after him when he returns and cream his burns and brush out the knots in his tail

Bennett

Depsite how positive and cheerful he tries to be i think hes probably got really bad anxiety

And not just general anxiety probably social anxiety too from so many people blaming stuff on his bad luck, abandoning him cuz something bad happened etc

Just something about his dialogue really made me think how hes so quick to put the blame on himself even if someone hasnt said it first, even down to the weather like rain isnt even a bad thing but hes always saying how hes jixed it? Sounds like hes so used to taking the blame for things somewhere inside he truly believes its his fault

And hes got to just gotten used to that sinking dissapointment feeling when he gets nothing or just vegetables in treasure chests, or maybe he has an anxiety to the sound of the temple doors moving because hes so used to a monster following or being trapped

He tries so hard to act cheerful but he needs a cup of milk a hug and someone to tell him its okay to be dissapointed and scared

#genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #gorougenshinimpact #gorou #kaeya #kaeya genshin impact #bennett #bennett genshin impact