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iosagol · 4 months

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The Boy and the Heron, lads

*lying facedown on the sofa*

Spoilers, all the spoilers

So can we talk about the cyclical nature of life and death

The way the past and future are linked to one another and just because the past doesn't get to be the future, it doesn't mean that's bad

"In the future I am dead," Himi says, essentially. "I am not afraid. You have seen me as I want to be remembered, and I have left books for you to open and leave open, and even though I'm not going to be alive anymore, I once was, and I loved you."

The fact that Himi's little sister is no more recovered from the grief than Mahito

she's grieving too over her sister, but her sister's husband is now her husband and did she really want this to happen? and she's having this baby

It's a lot to handle because someone she loves just died and right after this she's bringing a new life into a vicious world in the middle of this war

And she has this boy now that looks like her sister

so she goes into the forest looking for that peace that isn't at home

and just she's lying in that room with those circling…. fans? Fans made of bandages(?) just spinning around her it's a cycle of hurt and patching up wounds and getting hurt again and patching up wounds until her stepson is webbed in it and she's webbed in it and both of them are so in pain and trying to patch up their wounds and it doesn't do them any good

The fact that in order to find his mom, our boy Mahito has to go into the Secondary/Underworld and he has to get a fish and he has to survive and draw water and go looking for this woman and descend into the abyss and come out again and he has to shun power

It gives Spirited Away, almost, except Chihiro had to learn to mature in the sense that she had to consider others and respect and learn manners

she has to respect others

meanwhile Mahito has to learn to forgive himself for not saving someone he loves

he has to respect himself and stop hurting himself and be open to love again

So he's just... Living, for the most part, it seems. He's gutting that fish and eating jam and butter on bread and also soup and he has to bicker with Heron and drink tea and steer a boat and observe the complexities of life and death

He's living and healing

But really, there's no balance to the Secondary/Underworld the greatuncle made because he wanted every creature to thrive within it

And if all you have is life on top of life, then creatures are going to start killing each other

The pelicans are starving because the fish can't be eaten, they turn on the waro-waro, the humans rush to protect the waro-waro, both sides are burned

happiness for one and all is competitive, it's cutthroat

The fact that coming home looking scraped isn't enough, Mahito has to slam a rock into his head

He says it's to prove he fell down, but really that's the biggest mark of human violence

And he does it to himself maybe because he's just so angry with himself for being alive and well, while his mother isn't, and he needs to level that playing field to feel better

Self-flagellation

The overboldness of the dad, how he packs all his human gear and tries to elbbow his way into the Fae and it does him no good

how he tries to solve his kid's problems by again elbowing his way in and that also does nothing

The fact that our boy Mahito realizes something is wrong with the old ladies on sight

something about them is very inhuman

when he first sees them the look on his face he knows something is up because he's meant to go into Faerie and he doesn't have the preconceptions of the adults and he has to see the signs

I ugh

Ugh it's so beautiful, all of it

#the boy and the heron #boy and the heron

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hush-writes-preg · 6 months

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Spooky Season Day #22

Summary: [Dominant AFAB reader] A classic werewolf attack (and breeding) with a twist-- sometimes even a werewolf will bite off more than it can chew. Wordcount: 1,760

Themes: Werewolf breeding, werewolf pregnancy, nonhuman pregnancy, outdoor sex, dominant pregnant individual

You started your day searching for wood, but apparently the universe had a weird sense of humor, because it gave you something else entirely.

The forest just outside your tiny village held plenty of firewood, but few dared to venture far into its dark, imposing depths. Hushed stories spoke of faeries and monsters and all sorts of fantastical beasts just waiting to snap up a distracted traveler. Even hunters shied away from it, no matter how lean times got, unwilling to risk their lives to the unknown.

You, however, didn't care much for such campfire stories. You could handle yourself. You might be short and wiry, but the years you'd spent working the farm with your father and brothers had honed the feminine form you'd been born with into one just as rugged and masculine as theirs. You'd proven yourself through many a rough-and-tumble brawl with the other village boys, too. Nobody would guess from a simple glance that your clothing hid secrets.

And you preferred it that way.

You'd gathered half a load of wood when you heard the crunch of a twig snapping somewhere behind you. You didn't react, for you'd been listening to whatever-it-was for some time. Something dogged your heels, something quick and quiet and following you with the ruthless persistence of a predator, but you didn't feel fear. If anything, the prospect of a good fight left your nerves humming with anticipation.

Leaves shifted. The faint chitter of birdsong quieted.

Your fingers tightened around your axe as you subtly shifted your weight, ready for whatever might come.

The first blow came at your right shoulder, but your stalker hadn't expected you to be prepared when it finally pounced.

The two of you tumbled across the forest floor, grappling for dominance in a heated dance that could mean the difference between life and death. Claws tore at your clothes, and wicked teeth snapped inches from your fragile human skin, but you gave as good as you received, blocking the worst of its attacks with the haft of your axe and landing a few blows of your own.

In retrospect, you probably shouldn't have won that fight. The creature stood over a head taller than you, its body heavily corded with muscle, but you moved with an agility that it couldn't hope to match. So when the blade of your axe somehow found the vulnerable curve of its throat, it had no choice but to freeze.

Straddling the beast's hips, you stared down at the creature beneath you, your panting breaths meeting its faint growls in a harsh melody. The burning heat of its curse-twisted form leeched into your thighs. You could feel it flex its powerful body, testing your weight and the sharpness of your weapon. It was large and furry, and reeked of a unique combination of fresh sweat and musk that made something jolt in your gut.

A werewolf.

You've subdued a freaking werewolf.

You should have been terrified, yet you couldn't draw your eyes away from the fearsome creature.

The werewolf stared back, its dark gaze fathomless above a long, furred snout. Its black nose twitched with an obvious inhale.

Then its eyes narrowed.

"What, didn't think you could be bettered, pup?" you sneered, leaning more of your weight against your blade. "Just because you're a little fuzzy doesn't mean I'm gonna take one look at you and run off like a spooked fawn."

A curious shudder vibrated through the creature's body even as it snarled, its dagger-like teeth bared in obvious threat.

No, not it. He.

For the furry sheath pressed intimately against your groin began to twitch and swell as you watched, revealing a hint of something red at the tip.

Your breath caught in your throat. The feral masculinity of the creature at your mercy sparked a strange heat in your belly, a kind you couldn't recall ever feeling before. Your mouth practically watered at the sight of your attacker's arousal, and you didn't think that was normal. "Like that, did you?" You impulsively rocked your hips, rubbing yourself teasingly against him. "It's always the big, bad boys who secretly wanna be pinned down."

The werewolf's lips curled back, venom in its gaze, but the shaft nudging against your crotch jerked.

Fuck, the friction felt good.

You shouldn't want it, but the thought of taking that thick, alien cock inside of you left sent a surge of liquid heat through your core.

Your trousers were already torn from the earlier scuffle, and it wouldn't take much effort at all to shift the homespun fabric a little to the side and–

"Fertile." A single word somehow forced its way from a jaw not intended for speech, low and gravely and barely intelligible. The werewolf's long tongue lapped at its lips before it inhaled again, a whine rising from its throat.

Fertile.

You glanced down at the flat plane of your belly, towards the womb hidden just out of sight. Could the werewolf smell the arousal heating your blood? Or did it scent something else?

"Smell something you like, pup?" You rubbed yourself against him again, not bothering to hide the smirk on your face as you took advantage of his helplessness. "What makes you think you can just ambush someone in the woods and take what you want without asking? Maybe you need a taste of your own medicine."

The werewolf growled again, a line of drool glistening on its muzzle. Those dark eyes remained narrowed in anger, but something feral burned there, too, something that threatened to engulf you. A fur-covered Adam's apple bobbed in its throat while the engorged shaft between its legs rose to full, glorious mast.

Gods above and below. It wanted this as much as you did!

"Tell you what. You lay there nice and still like a good boy, and I'll take what I want. And maybe you'll get your rocks off along the way. Deal?"

That long tongue slipped out again, as much a nervous tic as it was a sign of anticipation, just before your subdued monster gave the very faintest of nods.

One hand continued holding the head of the axe to its throat while the other groped blindly between your legs, shifting just enough fabric aside to clear the way to your dripping hole. You weren't about to risk removing your trousers for this. Besides, the thought of mounting it mostly clothed only made your lust burn hotter. You unwaveringly held the werewolf's gaze as you guided the bright red head to your entrance, your breath hitching at the first nudge. "Stay," you ordered.

And just like that, you sank down.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck oh fuck.

You've had a few lovers in your time, but none of them filled you as thoroughly as this bad-tempered beast. The work-toned muscles of your powerful thighs flexed like steel rope every time you lifted yourself almost free, only to impale yourself again with a pleasured grunt.

But the werewolf wasn't a lover– no, it was nothing but a toy in this moment, and a hell of one at that.

The thick, inhuman shaft stretching you out nearly made your eyes roll back in your head. Already the juices of your need ran slick between your thighs and dampened the creature's fur. For its part, the werewolf remained mostly still, though its clawed fingers flexed and dug deep furrows in the earth beneath it every time you ground down on its cock. Gasping, cursing, groaning, you rode your deadly plaything into the damp fall leaves, never taking your eyes off him.

"Damn, you feel good," you muttered, tossing the hair out of your eyes. "Got a nice cock for a monster. Bet you didn't expect this to happen when you jumped me, did you?"

The werewolf's hips jolted up in spite of the threat at its neck, driving it roughly into your eager body. "Smelled you," it rasped, the sound edged in a whine. "Needed it."

It smelled you?

What was that supposed to mean?

You shoved your axe even harder against the creature's neck, slicing away fur and pressing metal to bare skin. "Shut up," you huffed, clenching your hole around it. "Don't wanna hear you while I'm getting off, you mangy mutt."

And surprisingly, it obeyed. Fur lay thick and coarse beneath your fingers as you exploited your attacker's lust for your own benefit, roughly pounding your greedy hole with its rock-hard shaft. It felt like you couldn't get enough, like you might just expire if you couldn't reach your peak. Something about the feel of the werewolf, the scent of it, the danger of its teeth and claws-- it all wound your desire tighter and tighter, like an overcoiled spring.

It was too much. You couldn't hold back your sounds of pleasure any longer.

"Fuck, I need more," you hissed, your grip on the axe faltering and your bound chest heaving as you bared your human teeth at the werewolf. "Make me come, you flea-bitten cur!"

Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was fate. Or maybe you'd truly made the werewolf your bitch. But instead of taking advantage of your faltering attention, the creature began snapping its pelvis forward with punishing force. A strange bulge at the base of its cock, one that you'd only just noticed, demanded entrance. You weren't sure you could take it, but your hole seemed eager enough to try and swallow it up.

Your voice rose to the sky, filled with a fierce, wordless hunger that ached to be sated.

An unearthly howl answered from the beast between your legs.

And suddenly, the knot forced its way inside of you, and your entire world shattered.

You eventually made it home that day with your firewood, a sore groin, and a belly full of werewolf seed.

Its knot kept you tied up a bit longer than expected, but in time, you managed to pull free, unleashing a torrent of warm, sticky fluid down the inside of your trousers. The two of you scrambled apart afterward in an uneasy, unspoken truce, sharing a heated look that spoke volumes before the werewolf bounded back into the forest.

Months passed, yet you never forgot that day, nor the feel of that deadly predator moving between your thighs. Especially once you finally realized what the beast had meant when growling about you being 'fertile'.

The next time you entered the forest, your tunic stretched over a belly swollen with werewolf pups. And the 'wood' you craved wouldn't come from any tree.

(A Spooky Season story.)

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