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haggishlyhagging · 4 months

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The book list copied from feminist-reprise

Radical Lesbian Feminist Theory

A Passion for Friends: Toward a Philosophy of Female Affection, Jan Raymond

Call Me Lesbian: Lesbian Lives, Lesbian Theory, Julia Penelope

The Lesbian Heresy, Sheila Jeffreys

The Lesbian Body, Monique Wittig

Politics of Reality, Marilyn Frye

Willful Virgin: Essays in Feminism 1976-1992, Marilyn Frye

Lesbian Ethics, Sarah Hoagland

Sister/Outsider, Audre Lorde

Radical Feminist Theory – General/Collections

Freedom Fallacy: The Limits of Liberal Feminism, edited by Miranda Kiraly and Meagan Tyler

Radically Speaking: Feminism Reclaimed, Renate Klein and Diane Bell

Love and Politics, Carol Anne Douglas

The Dialectic of Sex–The Case for Feminist Revolution, Shulamith Firestone

Sisterhood is Powerful, Robin Morgan, ed.

Radical Feminism: A Documentary Reader, edited by Barbara A. Crow

Three Guineas, Virginia Woolf

Sexual Politics, Kate Millett

Radical Feminism, Anne Koedt, Ellen Levine, and Anita Rapone, eds.

On Lies, Secrets and Silence, Adrienne Rich

Beyond Power: On Women, Men and Morals, Marilyn French

Feminism Unmodified: Discourses on Life and Law, Catharine MacKinnon

Femininity and Domination: Studies in the Phenomenology of Oppression, Sandra Bartky

Life and Death, Andrea Dworkin

This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color, Gloria Anzaldua and Cherrie Moraga, eds.

Wildfire: Igniting the She/Volution, Sonia Johnson

Homegirls: A Black Feminist Anthology, Barbara Smith ed.

Fugitive Information, Kay Leigh Hagan

Talking Back: Thinking Feminist, Thinking Black, bell hooks

Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center, bell hooks

Deals with the Devil and Other Reasons to Riot, Pearl Cleage

Pilgrimages/Peregrinajes, Maria Lugones

In Search of Our Mothers’ Gardens, Alice Walker

The Whole Woman, Germaine Greer

Right Wing Women, Andrea Dworkin

Feminist Theory – Specific Areas

Prostitution

Paid For: My Journey Through Prostitution, Rachel Moran

Being and Being Bought: Prostitution, Surrogacy, and the Split Self, Kajsa Ekis Ekman

The Industrial Vagina: The Political Economy of the Global Sex Trade, Sheila Jeffreys

Female Sexual Slavery, Kathleen Barry

Women, Lesbians, and Prostitution: A Workingclass Dyke Speaks Out Against Buying Women for Sex, by Toby Summer, in Lesbian Culture: An Anthology, Julia Penelope and Susan Wolfe, eds.

Ten Reasons for Not Legalizing Prostitution, Jan Raymond

The Legalisation of Prostitution : A failed social experiment, Sheila Jeffreys

Making the Harm Visible: Global Sexual Exploitation of Women and Girls, Donna M. Hughes and Claire Roche, eds.

Prostitution, Trafficking, and Traumatic Stress, Melissa Farley

Not for Sale: Feminists Resisting Prostitution and Pornography, Christine Stark and Rebecca Whisnant, eds.

Pornography

Pornland: How Pornography Has Hijacked Our Sexuality, Gail Dines

Pornified: How Porn is Damaging Our Lives, Our Relationships, and Our Families, Pamela Paul

Pornography: Men Possessing Women, Andrea Dworkin

Pornography: The Production and Consumption of Inequality, Gail Dines

Pornography: Evidence of the Harm, Diana Russell

Pornography and Sexual Violence: Evidence of the Links (transcript of Minneapolis hearings published by Everywoman in the UK)

Rape

Against Our Will, Susan Brownmiller

Rape In Marriage, Diana Russell

Incest

Secret Trauma, Diana Russell

Victimized Daughters: Incest and the Development of the Female Self, Janet Liebman Jacobs

Battering/Domestic Violence

Loving to Survive, Dee Graham

Trauma and Recovery, Judith Herman

Why Does He Do That? Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men, Lundy Bancroft

Sadomasochism/”Sex Wars”

Unleashing Feminism: Critiquing Lesbian Sadomasochism in the Gay Nineties, Irene Reti, ed.

The Sex Wars, Lisa Duggan and Nan D. Hunter, eds.

The Sexual Liberals and the Attack on Feminism, edited by Dorchen Leidholdt and Janice Raymond

Sex, Lies, and Feminism, Charlotte Croson, off our backs, June 2001

How Orgasm Politics Has Hijacked the Women’s Movement, Sheila Jeffreys

A Vision of Lesbian Sexuality, Janice Raymond, in All The Rage: Reasserting Radical Lesbian Feminism, Lynne Harne & Elaine Miller, eds.

Sex and Feminism: Who Is Being Silenced? Adriene Sere in SaidIt, 2001

Consuming Passions: Some Thoughts on History, Sex and Free Enterprise by De Clarke (From Unleashing Feminism).

Separatism/Women-Only Space

“No Dobermans Allowed,” Carolyn Gage, in Lesbian Culture: An Anthology, Julia Penelope and Susan Wolfe, eds.

For Lesbians Only: A Separatist Anthology, Julia Penelope & Sarah Hoagland, eds.

Exploring the Value of Women-Only Space, Kya Ogyn

Medicine

Witches, Midwives and Nurses: A History of Women Healers, Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English

For Her Own Good: 150 Years of the Experts’ Advice to Women, Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English

The Hidden Malpractice: How American Medicine Treats Women as Patients and Professionals, Gena Corea

The Mother Machine: Reproductive Technologies from Artificial Insemination to Artificial Wombs, Gena Corea

Women and Madness, Phyllis Chesler

Women, Health and the Politics of Fat, Amy Winter, in Rain And Thunder, Autumn Equinox 2003, No. 20

Changing Our Minds: Lesbian Feminism and Psychology, Celia Kitzinger and Rachel Perkins

Motherhood

Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution, Adrienne Rich

The Reproduction of Mothering, Nancy Chodorow

Maternal Thinking: Toward a Politics of Peace, Sara Ruddick

Marriage/Heterosexuality

Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence, Adrienne Rich

The Spinster and Her Enemies: Feminism and Sexuality 1880-1930, Sheila Jeffreys

Anticlimax: A Feminist Perspective on the Sexual Revolution, Sheila Jeffreys

Black Macho and the Myth of the Superwoman, Michele Wallace

The Sexual Contract, Carol Pateman

A Radical Dyke Experiment for the Next Century: 5 Things to Work for Instead of Same-Sex Marriage, Betsy Brown in off our backs, January 2000 V.30; N.1 p. 24

Intercourse, Andrea Dworkin

Transgender/Queer Politics

Gender Hurts, Sheila Jeffreys

Female Erasure, edited by Ruth Barrett

Testosterone Rex: Unmaking the Myths of Our Gendered Minds, Cordelia Fine

Delusions of Gender: How Our Minds, Society, and Neurosexism Create Difference, Cordelina Fine

Sexing the Body: Gender and the Construction of Sexuality, Anne Fausto-Sterling

Myths of Gender, Anne Fausto-Sterling

Unpacking Queer Politics, Sheila Jeffreys

The Transsexual Empire: The Making of the She-Male, Janice Raymond

The Inconvenient Truth of Teena Brandon, Carolyn Gage

Language

Speaking Freely: Unlearning the Lies of the Fathers’ Tongues, Julia Penelope

Websters’ First New Intergalactic Wickedary, Mary Daly

Man Made Language, Dale Spender

Feminist Theology/Spirituality/Religion

Beyond God the Father: Toward a Philosophy of Women’s Liberation, Mary Daly

Gyn/Ecology: The Metaethics of Radical Feminism, Mary Daly

The Gods and Goddesses of Old Europe, Marija Gimbutas

Woman, Church and State, Matilda Joslyn Gage

The Women’s Bible, Elizabeth Cady Stanton

Pure Lust, Mary Daly

Backlash

The War Against Women, Marilyn French

Backlash, Susan Faludi

History/Memoir

Surpassing the Love of Men, Lillian Faderman

Going Too Far: The Personal Chronicles of a Feminist, Robin Morgan

Women of Ideas, and What Men Have Done to Them, Dale Spender

The Creation of Patriarchy, Gerda Lerner

The Creation of Feminist Consciousness, From the Middle Ages to Eighteen-Seventy, Gerda Lerner

Why History Matters, Gerda Lerner

A Vindication of the Rights of Women, Mary Wollstonecraft, ed.

The Elizabeth Cady Stanton-Susan B. Anthony Reader: Correspondence, Writings, Speeches, Ellen Carol Dubois, ed., Gerda Lerner, Elizabeth Cady Stanton

The Suffragette Movement, Sylvia Pankhurst

In Our Time: Memoirs of a Revolution, Susan Brownmiller

Women, Race and Class, Angela Y. Davis

Economy

Counting for Nothing: What Men Value and What Women Are Worth, Marilyn Waring

For-Giving: A Feminist Criticism of Exchange, Genevieve Vaughn

Fat/Body Image/Appearance

Shadow on a Tightrope: Writings by Women on Fat Oppression, Lisa Schoenfielder and Barb Wieser

Beauty and Misogyny: Harmful Cultural Practices in the West, Sheila Jeffreys

Can’t Buy My Love: How Advertising Changes the Way We Think and Feel, Jean Kilbourne

The Beauty Myth, Naomi Wolf

Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture, and the Body, Susan Bordo

The Invisible Woman: Confronting Weight Prejudice in America, Charisse Goodman

Women En Large: Photographs of Fat Nudes, Laurie Toby Edison and Debbie Notkin

Disability

With the Power of Each Breath: A Disabled Women’s Anthology, Susan E. Browne, Debra Connors, and Nanci Stern

#tbr list

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klausysworld · 3 months

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Love…

Love is a dangerous game.

Love is a fickle thing.

Love is unpredictable.

Love is merciless.

Love can be both feared and desired.

Love can make a woman do such awful things.

Love can drive a woman mad.

It drove me mad. It made me do awful things. It made people scared and it made people excited. It made me merciless, unpredictable and dangerous but my love was never fickle and it never will be.

Not when it came down to Niklaus Mikaelson.

______________________________________________________________

It started off way before he arrived in town.

I grew up in Mystic Falls, one of the only witches in town alongside the Bennett family. When I was little, Sheila Bennet-Grams would always offer to babysit me from my mother. When I would play there with Bonnie my emotions would always get the better of me, objects would begin to float or catch fire. Grams would always pick me up and calm me down while telling me how powerful I would become.

She never mentioned magic to Bonnie, and I promised not to either even though we were so close. However my magic was something I had always been aware of and Grams said that finding control over it would be better than pretending it didn't exist.

Once I got a little older, she began to teach me things on other supernaturals. Starting with the Lockwood heritage and the basics of werewolves and then we went deeper, to Eenadu and how/why she created the species. Then a while later it was vampires. The basics first again and then the Originals, and Esther.

That was when I first heard of him; Klaus.

Grams spoke his name with such distaste but it stirred something inside me. She only told me the bast things, put a sinister spin on everything about them. So I had to do some digging myself.

He was just so damaged.

He was so broken, but so fixable.

He was just so loveable.

I knew he needed the doppelgänger so I convinced Bonnie that we should befriend Elena.

I knew he needed a werewolf so i befriended Matt through Elena which lead to befriending Tyler.

I knew he needed a vampire too but I didn't need to worry about that. I was certain that Katerina Petrova, Katherine Pierce, would pay the town a visit and death would follow her like the plague. She would either be my vampire or make me a vampire that I could give to Klaus.

And she did, just as predicted. So when I was sure that she had done everything for me: triggered Tylers 'curse', turned Caroline and collected the moonstone, I made my move in form of a letter.

It had taken a damn long time to find him. He moves, a lot. However, I too had made contacts over the last few years with other witches across the states and was able to pinpoint him.

And reach out.

..............................................................................................................................

Dear Niklaus Mikaelson,

We have yet to meet though I am certain that when we do you will be pleased. Come to where it all began for I have an opportunity for you to seize.

..........................................................................

It was simple but still cryptic enough to grab his attention. I sent it to him with my magic and patiently waited.

And planned.

Klaus would definitely want to create more hybrids. Which meant some sort of trip as soon as the ritual was over and his wolf was free. I also knew that he and Stefan were friends in the 1920s, courtesy of Gloria who was a witch I had met and remained in contact with who was also in communication with Klaus and helped me find the man.

So I was betting that he would find a way to take Stefan with him to find his hybrids and bring the ripper out of him, which would not be difficult. I remember when he had gone a little mad for human blood earlier in the year. It wouldn't take a lot to push him back over that line.

Now was a nervous when Katherine went missing which meant klaus was in town? Yes. But I was much more excited.

I could feel myself literally buzzing when I stepped into the Salvatore manor house, I could feel the magic rolling off of Alaric! I sat between him and Damon and I could feel my skin burning. Damon kept putting his hand on my knee to stop my legs bouncing, asked if I was on drugs a couple times too but didn't suspect too much. I hadn't revealed to everyone the amount I knew. Though Elijah knew that I was much more than I let on but I kinda wanted him to know.

Of course everyone knew I was a witch but they assumed I was an amateur, Bonnie knew I was better than I made out to be but still didn't know the extents of what I was now capable of. When you've been practicing magic since you were a small child your power ages with you, I knew that I'd only grow stronger. And so far I have.

I just hoped that he couldn't feel my magic as well as I could feel his. That was a silly thought. I knew that he couldn't, I had a spell to mask it.

Time went fast, one second I was sat next to him and the next he was walking out the door and Damon was asking what was wrong with me today. I got out of it and went home to my planning board.

I wondered how long it would take for him to know that it was I who sent him the letter. I wondered how he would react. I also wondered how he would be if I sent him another.

..............................................................................................................................

Dear Niklaus Mikaelson,

I see that you have arrived though not as I may have expected, Either way I hope you appreciate the ingredients that I have collected.

..............................................................................................................................

I sent it via my magic again, I knew that it would lay waiting for him when he returned from the decade dance. It meant I was far too excited the entire time. Though I did my best to keep my mouth shut around Alaric Klaus himself.

Even when he revealed his true identity I had to bite back my smile, instead I allowed him to pin me, toss me and harm me until he though he'd won. I couldn't reveal my powers, the truth behind my innocent mask. I needed him to think I was weak but still interesting enough.

Bonnie ended up 'sacrificing' herself. To be completely honest it made me mad. Of all the people he could have hurt he had to choose her. I wouldn't have cared if it was any one else but Bonnie was the only true friend I had made, she wasn't here for me to use or bargain with. I liked her and felt my skin burn with rage.

So I made a little spell to cause Klaus an extensive amount of pain .

I got over it of course but I needed him to understand my feelings. It's the only way we could work.

I was pissed off that he hadn't used my chosen ingredients. Damon saved Tyler and Caroline and Bonnie was saving Elena.

Still, I watched his ritual anyway from a distance, my eyes lighting up as I watched his bones snap and his wolf rush to the front of his mind. Elijah's eyes locked on mine for a split second, a slight nod from us both before he took his brother to a place in the woods.

After that I had to babysit Damon while he whined and shook in pain. When his fevers got too bad I would place a cooling spell over his body and transfer some of his pain to myself. Despite not being Damons biggest fan, he was the one I got along most with out of the little group that had formed. He had a sense of humour and wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Damon was no liar like most of the others and I admired that. Still, I did not trust him exactly but I didn't mind his company.

Eventually Katerina arrived, she did not look eager to see me however she delivered the cure as expected and revealed what I had assumed. Klaus had taken Stefan.

Unfortunately for Klaus, since finding him the first time, I was able to play a tracking spell on his soul. If I closed my eyes and chanted the right words I was able to find exactly where he was in the moment I did so. Which meant he received more letters.

They were always short and suggestive, never revealing quite how much I knew but just hinting at it. I knew it would annoy him, he would see it as child’s play but that's what made it all so amusing when I would whisper my spells and watch his jaw clench as he attempted to tear up the paper only for it to magically bind back together in mockery of his frustration.

It was when he arrived in Chicago that Gloria had me on the phone.

"I warn you child, he's been asking me to find out who's sending the notes. I wouldn't ever tell on you dear but you know how he becomes. Don't play with fire unless you plan to get burnt" she told me, her tone worried

"Thank you Gloria but you've always known I enjoy the burn. Even if he knows, I can contain him. I've been preparing." I murmur, as my fingers trace over the sketch of the cage I plan to create for him should it ever be necessary.

"Do be careful" she whispered, "They don't call him a beast for fun"

"I know" I hum "It's going to be wonderful" I stated, my mind picturng those golden eyes of his.

Gloria had to hang up when she heard Rebekah's voice nearing but messaged me an update later that day. Unfortunately I felt as her life was taken, by Katerina of all people though I couldn't be too surprised. Her obsession with Stefan never failed to shine through.

Not that I could judge.

Plus it worked in my favour. Klaus came back home.

I got to see him and senior prank night, he even grabbed my wrist. I asked if he just wanted to hold my hand which made him smirk and made my lower stomach implode.

He did in fact hold my hand.

Sure it was while he dragged me down a corridor but he held it all the same.

Then he started killing people and turned Tyler which made me happy. At least my werewolf was useful after all.

Eventually I got back home and went to bed, with Klaus still on my mind of course.

Things got much more interesting from then onward. Klaus was in town much more and always getting in everyones business. I both enjoyed it and loathed it.

It was lovely because it meant I got to talk to him, and because I knew so much about him already I was able to keep him entertained and talkative. Especially when it came to art. I had to research so many artists so that I could engage him in conversation for long periods of time. I convinced the others that it was to distract him while they did their stupid little plans but it was really just for me.

I still sent my letters but I was confident that he didn't know it was me. Somehow I had made him believe that I was brand knew to magic and practically hopeless which he apparently found 'cute'. Whether he meant it or not it still made me blush.

After a few months I had the cage made. It was doused in magic to ensure he couldn't ever escape and I had put in a bookshelf with books I knew he would enjoy as well as a sketch pad and an array of crayons. Pencils were a little risky as they had a point but I put in some blunt charcoal. I had vervain growing beside the cage and wolvebane on my bedroom windowsill. The cage was set up in my basement.

My mother never went down there, she still thinks it's all horiible down their. She also doesn't really practise magic anymore so she's basically a human and oblivious to my supernatural involvment.

Thanks to her unawareness I was able to go about things without even being that discreet. Even if she had picked up on it, she made no effort to intervene.

So I continued to indulge in my obsession.

It was mostly harmless, though my letters progressively became love letters. It was entertaining to watch his brows rise as he read the suggestive words, often now his fingers would trace over the lipstick print I had left in the bottom right corner. Occasionally I would wear the same shade around him, just to test my limits. Sometimes I would spray the paper with my perfume before sending it too.

Soon I began sending other things too, like a rose alongside the letter or a sugary beignet that I had made myself. Sometimes they would contain propofol or something similar. This, with a high enough dosage, would knock even the original hybrid out long enough for me to go on over. I would often sit down beside him on his bed, usually my fingers would stroke through his sweet curls and I would press a kiss to his cheek. Almost always leaving the same mark as I did on those letters and taking pride in the confusion that painted his gorgeous face when he would see it in the morning and wash off my mark.

There were a couple close calls where I had assumed him to be passed out only to find him waiting in his bed, then I would have to be more forceful with putting him to sleep. Often magic was involved and I would lay with him, stroking the area I had struck him with my power to soothe the sting away.

Since then I had noticed his glances over his shoulders as he walked and the way his fingers would nervously tap against his scotch glass. I couldn't deny the pleasant feeling that buzzed through me at the knowledge that I made him nervous, borderline afraid. He even went so far as to have one of his hybrids stand guard outside of his room when he slept. So I had to climb up through his window. It was a hassle really but it got easier each time I did so.

I found myself in his room pretty much every single night. Something about how he was when he slept was so peaceful and innocent that I couldn't help but crave it. It soothed something within me.

What was even better than watching him while he slept?

Finding a painting in his art room...of me!

It was beautifully done and looked just like a photo. If i hadn't touched it to feel the layers of paint then I wouldn't have known he created it. A true, genuine smile graced my lips when I held it and I couldn't help but go through all his sketch pads to find more.

My next love letter hinted toward the art but I think that he was beginning to over think the notes at this point. They were driving him a little mad.

I considered leaving him alone for a little while but then he started getting into trouble. Too much trouble. The kind that got him hurt and stabbed by white oak. The kind that had him ready to leave Mystic Falls.

So I had to start eliminating threats toward him.

I went as far as hospitalising Elena, making it look like natural causes so that the others would have to leave Klaus alone for a while.

I befriended Rebekah, started learning things about Klaus's childhood, the little things that meant so much to him. So I went home and hand carved him a wooden wolf and left it on top my letter.

Slowly, I think he began to have suspicions. Sometimes I catch him watching me with a very calculative look in his eye though he would break into a nervous smile and look away, often walking out the room entirely. I didn't like that.

He tried to distance himself but I wouldn't let him. I thought it was clear that he was mine by now. If he had figured it out then he should be happy and relaxed knowing that it's me, not tense and worried. What did he think I would do, really?

Didn't matter. Time went on.

Thanksgiving came and went, Christmas and then New Year. I always sent and received a present. The Mikaelsons actually threw a Christmas ball which I of course attended and I was able to bag multiiple dances with Klaus. I also danced with Elijah, he directly asked me if I was the one messing with his brothers head, we were whispering and I made a little spell so Klaus couldn't eavesdrop. I confirmed it without actually admitting it and made some little threats for if he should try to stop anything, after I left for home.

I continued with my visits, my growing friendships and my gifts. And then valentines day came around.

I had been contemplating whether I treat it any differently to every other day. I never had before however this time I had somebody to think of, somebody I loved.

So when I woke up, I decided that perhaps I'd at least go see Klaus today.

What I had not expected was a large bouquet of roses, bunched into the shape of a heart set on my dining room table with a typed note attached.

..............................................................................................................................

Dearest Y/N, I don't usually engage in human holidays however you've recently changed my perspective. I hope you don't think I've been oblivious to your advances, I'll admit they've been affective. Love Niklaus

..............................................................................................................................

The note made me smile. The rhyming scheme matched all my letters and this was all the confirmation I needed that he had accepted my feelings.

So I got dressed into a dress, the same deep red as the flowers he had gifted me with the eyeshadow and lipstick to match. I drove myself to his home and this time knocked on the door.

Klaus must have been waiting for he opened it as soon as my knuckles hit the wood and he was dressed to perfection. His blood red tie matched my dress as though he just knew and his hand held out for mine without a word being said. I nodded to him and held his hand, enjoying the way it caused my magic to ignite inside me.

I was lead inside to the area which was usually primarily empty and used for parties and events however it was down littered with rose petals. Fairy lights and candles lit the room and a little square table rest in the centre of the room covered by a white table cloth with two golden plates hidden by gold plate covers sat waiting to be revealed.

"Oh wow" I whispered quietly. This was most definitely not something I had thought of occurring. I heard Klaus clear his throat a little as he hesitantly slipped his hand round my waist causing my tummy to flutter pleasantly before he kept leading me over to the table. He proceeded to pull out my hair, waiting for me to sit and then carefully pushing me closer to the table before sitting opposite me.

"I do hope you'll enjoy the food though if you don't I can be sure to get you something else-" His voice began to speed up, I could see his nerves playing.

"That won't be necessary, I'll have what I'm given and I'll enjoy it" I state simply with a reassuring smile. He returned it and nodded quietly to himself as he lifted the cover off of his play and I did the same. Underneath was a beautifully cooked slice of beef wellington with potatoes and a few vegetables alongside and a sauce to go with.

"I was going to do starters as well but I didn't want you too be too full as I have more for us to eat later" he explained quietly.

"Later?" I question with the slight tilt of my head and he smiled.

"We have a lot to talk about" He answered and I hummed, lifting the wine glass to my lips and allowing the rich taste to please my tongue. I licked my lips clean, watching as his eyes followed my tongues movements as he sat a little straighter. "However," he began, clearing his throat again making a slither of amusement make its way to my face. "For the moment, I just want to have a valentines dinner with you, my questions will wait for after." He decided and I nod, happy with his arrangement.

"Very well" I agreed as I cut into my steak and pastry and popped a piece into my mouth, moaning at the flavour and locking my eyes onto his. His adams apple bobbed and his eyes darted to his plate making me grin.

Dinner was mostly small talk, a few flirty comments through desert before he took our empty plates out to the kitchen. I got up from my seat to follow him but he shook his head and asked that I stay while he cleaned. I agreed without resistance, if he wanted to do the dishes then I wouldn't object.

He was back in just a minute and holding his hand out for me to take again, which I did. Then I was brought upstairs which made me raise a brow, "Already huh?" I ask teasingly.

He glanced over his shoulder at me with a knowing look "Don't act like you don't spend nearly every night in my room" he replied making my eyes roll playfully.

He pulled me into his room and closed the door behind me. On the bed lay every single letter I had written him, I clicked my tongue as I looked over the generous pile and slowly glanced up at his face. His arms were folded over his chest and he had that look in his eyes that just told be to begin.

I smiled up at him and let out a little laugh "Right..." I muttered, "Well..., okay, can we sit for this?" I asked and he hummed, gesturing two chairs that we went to.

And then I started talking. A lot.

I went from the start, Grams. There was no point lying to the man, so I just laid it all out bare for him. From the first time I heard his name to the first time I was able to see his face to the first time we actually met, to now. It took hours of explaining and answering questions for silence to actually come around.

His expressions changed throughout the discussion, sometimes he looked a little confused, sometimes he even looked a little afraid but for the most part he just looked intrigued. When I was done and his questions stopped flowing, he leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling.

"You're crazy" He whispered and I felt my demeanour change, just as I went to snap his eyes went back to mine and a wide smile spread across his face. "You're so insane, I love it" he murmured before my face was in his hands and his lips were on mine.

I'll admit it took me by surprise so it took me a minute to react. Of course I kissed him back, would have been really dumb not to at this point.

His hands seemed to be everywhere all at once, every single nerve I owned stood on edge for him and my magic began to flow a little too fast than I was used to. Klaus pulled away, a chuckle leaving his lips making my eyes, which I didn't remember closing, open.

"You've set the curtains on fire sweetheart" he mumbled, stroking a few strands of hair behind my ear as I took a breathe and silently mended the curtains with my mind. A kiss was placed behind my ear and I breathed in deeply. "I can't believe you let me think you couldn't even light a candle when I met you" he muttered and he smiled.

"You let everyone think you were Alaric, so..." I trailed but he tutted.

"Ah, ah. Everyone except for you as it turns out so we are in no way even. You have been tormenting me, lying to me, watching me sleep..." he smirked and I rolled my eyes, "borderline assaulting me!" he exasperated and I dropped my head back with a sigh. His lips pressed to my neck in response and I hummed with a clenched jaw. "You do not like to be teased" he stated and my eyes flicked to him "I'm not mad" he told me but I didn't think he was anyway "your methods for my...affections have been questionable-"

"Well-" I interjected but he shook his head and kissed my lips again which was a seemingly affective way to keep me quiet but I liked it.

"But" he cut in "It has been incredibly sexy to watch you pull an unbelievable amount of power moves under everyone's noses, including my own. I look forward to seeing how many more moves you have" he whispered, his voice becoming progressively lower.

My gaze fixed on him, my eyes narrowed a little. Was he saying what he wanted to say or what I wanted to hear?

His hands slid down my sides to the backs of my thighs before he lifted me onto his lap, having me straddle him in his chair and causing my dress to ride up. My hands held onto his upper arms lightly, he looked back at me with the same calculative look I'm sure I was wearing. His head tilted to the side making my lips twitch, he looked cute like a confused pet.

"I don't take well to being played with" I tell him and he frowned.

"I'm not playing" he replied, his hand caressing my thigh in a way that made an unfamiliar warmth spread through me and I wasn't quite sure what to do with it. For some reason I had mapped out a plan for every scenario except for one where he actually showed the interest I wanted from him. "I wouldn't toy with you Y/n. Should I have wanted to harm you I would have just done so"

"You don't think I'm a threat?" I question and he furrowed his brows

"Do you want me to see you as a threat?" He asked confused and I hesitated, did I?

"Maybe?" I whispered, unsure and he huffed softly.

"You have been dancing around me for almost a year now, don’t you think it’s time we both give in?” He murmured and I stared at him. Slowly his hands brushed higher up my thighs and he pulled me closer on his lap making my heart pound. “Will you let yourself give in to me?” He asked as his fingertips grazed the thin material of my panties. “No more stalking or knocking me out…just be with me, you can sleep beside me…with me and I’ll give you everything you could ever want”

I hummed quietly and clenched my jaw as I felt and heard the elastic in my panties snap. His hand pulled the fabric away from my body and tucked them into his pocket as his eyes locked on mine. I shifted a little on his lap, my thigh clenching around him as I felt my pussy flutter against the erection that was pushing against his suit trousers.

“You have no idea how hard it was to figure out who you were” he muttered as he pushed my hips back and forth in a slow motion. I could feel my skin heating up as my sensitive flesh rubbed over his pants. “You drove me mad” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear making a warm shiver slide down my spine.

A breathy moan fell from my lips as I felt his hips grind up against my bare pussy. “Do you remember that letter you wrote, you were practically begging me to fuck you” he reminded making my eyes shut, my lips parting as I moved my hips with his to receive the perfect amount of friction against my clit. “Do you know how many faceless dreams I’ve had of you? I had to guess what your pretty moans would sound like, how tight your cunt was, I need to see if my imagination was accurate” He practically purred against my neck.

I kept grinding myself on his crotch, panting softly to try catch my breath and my thoughts and his hands cupped my ass firmly. They brushed across the tops of my thighs before a finger was rubbing my clit making my hips thrust up and a moan to escape me.

My hands curled into his jacket, I always had the control in situations. I needed the power and the control yet I couldn’t even think about taking it right now. I just needed to chase that feeling.

I couldn’t help the choked sound that left me when a finger plunged its way inside of me. At this point my hips were rutting against his hand, my pussy surely dripping onto his pants but I couldn’t stop myself.

“Happy Valentine’s Day sweetheart” his voice cooed against my ear and I moaned aloud. Kisses burned into the top of my neck and base of my jaw, “I’m gonna fuck you against all of your little love letters” he mumbled and I cried out his name weakly.

Another finger stretched me open with my clit was rubbed ferociously making my hips stutter and thighs tremble with need.

His mouth captured mine as I felt my resistance snap. My body shook and my head felt light as my lips pushed against his with force. After he pulled back and let me catch my breath he lifted me up and dropped me onto his bed amongst all the notes I’d left him in the past.

His body knelt between my legs and his face hovered over mine as he brushed his nose against mine.

I think it was that moment that I knew:

Love would destroy us both.

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flesheatingmoth · 9 months

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i think about stick of truth style way too much to be healthy. i could also not be arsed to color this entire thing

some explanations under the cut

i've always found the idea of human stan to be quite boring, especially since it's not actually mentioned in the game at all. from what i know, at least. i've played it a few times but it never presented him as a human. idk where that idea came from. i guess his description said he was raised by elves, but i dont think that necessarily means he's human

my very elaborate and unnecessary backstory for him is that sharon is an elf and sheila's right hand maiden. she managed to fall in love with randy, a human farmer and bard, when seeing him singing at a tavern. she ran away from her duties as the queen's right hand to live with randy on his farm, and had two children, shelley and stan. unfortunately, the village that they lived near weren't fond of human-elf relationships and burned down the farm, chasing them out of town. shelley ended up getting cursed to be the she orge that she is in the game, and sharon, as a last ditch effort, gave stan over to sheila and asked her to protect him. sheila still felt affection for sharon as her old best friend, so she agreed and raised stan to be a knight. he and kyle grew up alongside each other and stan became kyle's personal knight

human-elf relationships aren't illegal but they're very taboo with the tensions between larnion and kupa keep, so half elves are generally outcasted. stan is the first half elf to join the royal guard and lot of people want him off of it

stan is also a ranger in game and has sparky as his wolf companion, so i thought it would be fitting for him to have a disney princess moment and be friends with wolves lol. the wolves help patrol the forest surrounding the elven capital and report back to stan directly. he knows how to communicate with them

#south park #sp #fanart #sp style #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #stick of truth #sot #please ignore all the panels with sparky. i am not confident in my ability to draw animals #i have so many thoughts about the stick of truth universe. i have played the game so much #i love drawing kyle. he's so pretty #contrastingly i have no idea how to draw sharon and randy. help

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chibigo-ma · 2 months

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Preview of ❝The Little Human Experiment❞ [Legoshi]

Summary: Misaki was just your typical teenage girl living in Japan, but not in the eyes of her society. She's a human in a life where animals live and think like "humans" in our society. She is now brought in as an experiment for her new life outside her facility to see if humans can co-exist with different other species. A certain wolf gets quite attached to our human friend as he is tasked to protect her.

"Going already?" Mei asked as Misaki grabbed her bag. "Yeah, I have to go over there now to facilitate the choreography for the Light Ceremony," Misaki said as she patted Haru's head. "Get back soon!" Haru waved at her human friend before she left.

Misaki opened her phone to text Shiela that she would go to the clubroom as soon as she walked down the stairs. As she made her way to the clubroom though, she witnessed Juno carrying a sloth to the restroom. "Misaki-senpai!" Juno greeted with a smile as she placed the sloth down. "Ah, hello, Juno. Late for rehearsal?" Misaki asked as they walked to the clubroom together.

"Yeah, I am. I apologize. Are you late too, Misaki-senpai?" Juno asked as Misaki texted Shiela once again that Juno was with her. "Not really. I come in and out of the clubroom as I have two clubs to deal with," she shared. "Woah, really? You must be very busy then. It's still remarkable as you're still the assistant head," Juno had great admiration for the human as she clung to her.

"Assistant director, but still the same," Misaki corrected as she opened the door. "Sorry, I'm late!" Juno announces her arrival while still holding onto Misaki. Misaki raised an eyebrow as she noticed how tense the room was until they came in the room. The majority of the members went up to the two.

"Come on, Juno! You're supposed to text Sheila-senpai when you're late," Els informed the first-year. "She was carrying a sloth to the restroom, so her hands were occupied. It was very kind of you, Juno," Misaki acknowledges Juno's willingness. "Why, thank you, Misaki-senpai!" Juno was happy with Misaki's compliment.

"I've also made sure that Shiela got the memo and to not get you in trouble, so no need to worry," Misaki shared as everyone was wow-ed by Misaki's consideration. "But it doesn't excuse me for being late, so I want to clean the training hall after school. Sorry, Louis-senpai," Juno apologized as she bowed.

"Oh, Legoshi-senpai!" Juno called out to the gray wolf. "I saw the dinosaur in the plaza. It was really pretty. The stage crew is doing their best, so we actors are going to do our best with our dancing practice. We're very inspired!" Juno smiled widely and only had her eyes on him. "...Mm, good, good," Legoshi doesn't seem affected by Juno's comment.

"Yeah, you guys did great. Seeing as it's also my first time seeing it, I'm proud of each one of you. I'll be sure to take pictures of all of them when they're finished," Misaki smirked and showed that her lock screen was now the T-Rex Statue they painted, making sure she looked everyone in the eye.

"Aww, Misaki!" Dom looked flattered. "I'm happy it exceeded your expectations!" Kibi smiled as everyone in the creatives team was appreciative of Misaki's honest remark. "Ah, speaking of, Misaki," Shiela walked up to the human and dragged her towards Louis. "We have some sudden news to share with you," she shared as Louis glared at the cheetah due to her comment before.

"Yes, Sanu suggested that you'll be our main dancer," Louis mentioned and Misaki was shocked. "What!? What do you mean? I'll be at the front?" Misaki covered her mouth with her hand. "One of our dancers won't be available for the festival and you know the dances well. So, they made Juno be back up and you in the center since you know the dance very well," he shared.

"There's only two days left though," she looked worried. "You'll do fine, you the entire dance anyway," Louis was confident. "Did... did Tarok tell you that I'll be revealed too? Is that why you weren't opposed to it?" Misaki asked.

"Yes, he did tell me. I asked his permission for the dance and he's fine with it. You won't be wearing that get-up anymore," Louis smirked and Misaki sighed. "Fine, fine. I'll do it. I'll text Haru that I have a big role here so they won't have to worry about my whereabouts," Misaki shared as she went to grab her phone to text her.

"We'll do a quick fitting with you. I'm sure they'll just readjust one of the existing outfits," Louis told her as Misaki was ready to walk away. "I'll let Legoshi know," Louis smirked upon seeing Misaki frozen in place. He chuckled and patted her back and walked away from her to talk to Legoshi. She quickly ran to the changing room and walked out wearing her PE Uniform.

"Woah, you do have fur in your legs," Juno wondered as she gave a close inspection of Misaki's legs. "They're called Hair for humans. Despite it being short and thin, they make sure they regulate our body temperature and keep dirt away such as my lashes here," Misaki pointed her eyes to let Juno get a closer look.

"Woah, they're so tiny," Juno giggled. As everyone was talking to Misaki and was excited to see her fully perform on stage, Legoshi kept his eyes only on her. He looked up and down her figure as he felt aroused by her appearance.

"Stop eye fucking, my sister." Legoshi snapped out of it and shrank away as Louis glared at him. Louis was most annoyed upon seeing Legoshi's wagging tail when Misaki came into the room. "Sister?" Legoshi questioned. "She's like a sister to me, so don't go hurting her," Louis crossed his arms as it would seem that he was finally open for Misaki to be together with Legoshi.

"So whatever happened before they came in was a misunderstanding on your part," Louis pointed out. "You got the tape measure ready?" Louis asked.

"Oh, yeah, I do," Legoshi went to pull it out, "Fix your problem first," Louis interrupted and he walked away. "Problem?" Legoshi questioned. He looked down to see a tent in his pants. He panics and quickly runs to the restroom. He could not believe he just had a hard-on. It embarrassed him more to notice his tail wagging faster than ever. He really wants to disappear.

"Where's Legoshi?" Misaki asked after she got away from the questioning members. "He went to the restroom real quick. Dom will be measuring you instead," Louis informed her as he tried hiding his laughter, which Misaki noticed but she didn't question it. She would truly have a heart attack if she knew that she had such an effect on Legoshi.

#chibigo_ma #fanfiction #netflix #beastars #beastars legoshi #legoshi #legosi #beastars with humans #legoshi x reader #legoshi x oc

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marioandsonicfangirl793-art · 22 days

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Extra:

Styles and designs inspired by my friend @fiona-official. 💖💖💖

*Apologies if I didn’t add Sheila, she’s not a dragon Koopa as seen in my designs. She’s a horned lizard wolf hybrid as a former princess of the Spirit Animal Kingdom, in my AU.

❤️🧡💛

💚🩵💙

💜🩷💝

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banamine-bananime · 30 days

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the forum werewolf game ever. of all time: post-credits extras

Start reading here!

The Meta makes Church a really mean certificate:

Mod-awarded superlatives [note: "deepest pockets" means "best at getting people to trust you when you should not be trusted". The imagery is of tucking a tiny, trusting person into your warm, cozy, soft pocket and taking them wherever you want]:

Sheila with DEEPEST POCKETS and Best Fake Panicked Village Performance at Endgame Lopez with the Best Post That Everyone Ignored Church and Caboose for Most Intense Village on Village Violence. Way to stay true to the source material guys. You really were Church and Caboose Best reads for a living player goes to Tucker, who was the first to name the entire wolfpack, and for a dead player goes to Tex, who got there even sooner. Best Use of Role goes to Caboose for his creative writing action submission, who would have spooked the soul out of Church…if only she had been a wolf Runner up for for best use of role goes to Simmons for blocking Lopez from giving The Meta Tex's tracking and vigilante shot…though maybe somewhat offset by blocking Donut from seering The Meta Donut for Worst Use of Role ever, of all time, as the seer who never got a single result

We share the spreadsheet documenting night actions, etc, and Church faces a hard-to-swallow revelation:

Caboose:

Mod:

Donut comes in smugly:

Church has some Words for him:

Donut:

(context: we do a whole aWWards Thing each year)

like, one irl year later

Caboose quotes the writeup revealing Church was village, demanding:

Mod:

[insert the exact same writeup]

Caboose:

A few months later, Mod pings Caboose:

[insert the exact same writeup]

One month after that, mod pings Caboose again:

... can you guess what's under the spoiler by now?

To this day, a few times a year we get the itch to promise Caboose the real writeup, and of course we immediately cave to this impulse.

If you've read all of this, thank you so much from the bottom of my heart for letting me tell you about this dumb thing me and friends did that fills my heart with so much joy and love for them and for this show I'm so enamoured with. I hope it gave you some joy, too <3

#red wwersus blue

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killed-by-choice · 2 months

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“Maggie Roe” (USA 2023)

“Maggie” was a Texan woman who underwent a legal abortion in March of 2023. As Texas laws unambiguously permit, the abortion was meant to save Maggie’s life or health. Unfortunately, it killed her instead.

Maggie’s case and the data surrounding it, though no less of a tragedy, illustrates the following:

• abortion intended to save the life of the mother is legal in Texas and DOES get approved

• Texas abortion laws reduced maternal abortion deaths and abortions overall

• abortions done with intention to save the mother’s life can still do the opposite

While Maggie’s death was undoubtedly a tragedy, Texas laws restricting abortion prevent other women from dying like she did. Texas abortion bans have been found to dramatically reduce overall rate of abortion (even including those traveling out of state to circumvent the law). It was thanks to these laws that Maggie’s death was the only known maternal abortion death in Texas in 2023. Although data reporting for the 2023 period is incomplete (as of February 2024), 49 abortions were approved and done legally with the intention to preserve the life and/or health of the mother. All were done in hospitals, where the resources were present to have the best chance of treating complications— and the conditions that endangered lives in the first place.

(However, it is strange that abortion would have been chosen or recommended over an induced delivery or C-section in any case past the very early first trimester. An abortion at that stage would take multiple days and put the patient at further risk, while delivery would be immediate and allow the treatment of both patients.)

Those who died of legal abortion in Texas before the overturn of Roe v Wade include Denise Montoya, Maureen Espinoza, Jammie Garcia, Latachie Veal, Dorothy Bryant, Virginia “Genie” Lynn Wolfe, Sharyn Graham, Vanessa Preston, Mickey Apodaca, Junette Barnes, Glenda Davis, Sheila Watley and Louchrisser Jackson. Today, Texas bans on abortions not ruled medically necessary prevent many others from dying the way they did.

#tw abortion #pro life #unsafe yet legal #unidentified #tw ab*rtion #abortion #abortion debate #death from legal abortion

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theredofoctober · 3 days

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Shingleback Part 2— A Wolf Creek Darkfic

Mick Taylor x Female Reader

Synopsis: Escape from Mick Taylor's grip doesn't last long...

Trigger/Content Warnings: non con, violence, death (not reader), bigotry (which in this chapter includes some Mick typical queer fetishisation)

Read after the cut

✂️ ✂️ ✂️

Light cuts like a dirty knife through the bars of the underground cell as Mick approaches with an old-fashioned torch, his leer a sickle moon above its glow.

“G'morning, America! How ya doin’?”

You do not answer, merely stare through the midden black of the mine with all the unfeeling misery of dread.

Though without a clock or light by which you might determine the time you presume only one night has passed, coiled grubby and naked on unforgiving stone.

Shock has pinched out all pangs of hunger like a match head. You can’t conceive of knowing appetite again after what your flesh has known, what you have witnessed.

“Look like ya could do with a good wash,” Mick comments, unlocking the door to your cell. “Here's your shower. Make the most of it.”

Before you’ve registered the statement a bucket flashes in his left hand, dashing a quantity of cold, soapy water across you from head to foot.

Shouting, you jolt upright, quivering like a street child failing through some foul disease.

“Ah, what are ya squealin’ for?” asks Mick, through a nasty smirk. “I haven’t even got my cock in ya yet. Save your noise for then, eh?”

His hands drop to his belt, toying thoughtfully with the buckle.

Then he pauses, head cocked aside to listen.

“Hold that thought,” he says, at last. “Sounds like we’ve got company.”

Blinking soap from your eyes you gaze, nonplussed, up into Mick's sun-browned face. He looks irritated, thrown by the disturbance.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he mutters. “We’ll get to it when I’ve seen to the trouble.”

Fumbling for a lump of fabric wedged under one sweaty arm Mick shakes it out and drops it at your feet.

“Here. Chuck this on so you’re ready for me when I get back. I like a short skirt on a sheila. Not having ya in jeans, like that baggy tomboy shit I found ya in.”

Grumbling under his breath, Mick withdraws into the warrens beyond your narrow world, his flashlight swinging.

Desperate to be warm, you pick up the musty garment from the floor and yank it over your head, struggling with the one hand injured from having been crushed in your idiot’s bid at escape. The fingers are swollen, crooked; you imagine most to be broken.

You wonder if Mick will make the effort to set them, or if he’ll allow them to heal badly to make an example of your folly.

That he will force you under him again and again to grind you of pleasure like some foul grain is surely worse, but you loathe the thought of bearing the remnants of his violence in so physical a form as losing full use of your hand.

You slump with your back to the corner of the cell, considering how easily you might break your skull against the bars. Death is superior to a life condemned to brutish fucking under the earth, you believe.

The thought is rattled from you by the distant boom of firearms from above. A gasp burns through you like a knotted rope, and you see again your father dying, his face gone to holes, no longer human through the transmutation of the gun.

You daren’t close your eyes, afraid of the shadow puppetry of memory behind the lids.

A woman’s voice calls abruptly from the gloom, startling you upright against the bars.

“Hello?”

At first you think it a ghost, the echo of some woman raped and gut-slit in the unhappy darkness. But then a torch beam strikes your face, and you glimpse a slim woman with a black wolf cut hairstyle staring at you through the half-open door of the cell.

“Jesus,” she says. “So there is someone alive in this bloody pit.”

Wiping your face with both hands, you ask, “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Your voice is low, barely more than a breath.

“My name’s Lyanne,” says the woman. “The arsehole up there took one of my mates. Me and a few others have been following him, trying to get her back. We had no idea that Mick fella would be this fucked up, or maybe we would’ve held off.”

Lyanne pushes the door further open with the toe of a Doc Marten boot and looks at you, her sharp face tightening with disgust at your condition.

“Did you find your friend?” you ask, getting tentatively to your feet.

The other woman gives her head a single, gruff shake and takes off her leather jacket to put around your bare shoulders.

“Nah,” she says. “From the state of things down here he must have killed her. Least I can get you out of here. Got a van up top we can use if we’re quick getting to it.”

Hanging back, you ask, “What about Mick? He’ll shoot us both if he catches us.”

Lyanne sniffs.

“My mates are keeping that ugly old bastard distracted. Come on. You’re freezing. Don’t wanna stick around here, do you?”

Recalling Mick’s fingers fracturing you to your first, terrible orgasm you’re quick to follow Lyanne from the cell, stumbling alongside her through and out of that reeking grave.

Later, strapped into the passenger seat of a beaten-up van, half-listening to punk music your new ally finds on the radio, you think how uncannily alike your meeting with Mick was to your escape. For that reason, and the tenacity of your attacker, you don’t quite believe in your freedom.

It’s been too easy, as though for the play of it alone Mick has allowed you to slip from his den.

Bur perhaps you are only wounded, paranoid, a twitching mimic of the girl broken in below the ground.

Three weeks later you’re living in an apartment over a pub Lyanne runs at the outskirts of some roadside town, working under the table for enough cash to purchase a new passport and an aeroplane ticket home to America, plus what other fees will follow.

All you’d had in your pockets had been lost when Mick stripped you of your clothes in the mine. Thus it’s on a borrowed phone that you attempt to contact your mother, receiving no answer, the expected result.

Likewise, there is little response to the anonymous report you make to the police as to your father’s murder— no newspaper coverage, no announcement on the televisions in the bar.

Mick has cleaned up his crime so as to render it inexistent, like the wind blowing sand across buried bones, sinking them deep. He is such a force of nature, a man cursed to exist by the book of his wicked being. His name arises in no online search.

He is no one. He is death, its living hand.

You mourn your father, privately, and fear his killer’s return.

Each day that passes you imagine Mick strolling through the pub doors and cutting your throat across the bar, fucking you as the life runs from you like beer from an overturned keg. You’d come as you die, you envisage, one last spite upon you from your attacker.

Your nights are near sleepless in avoidance of dreams on that bleak subject, of what you saw in the mine as you tripped out of it into the daylight again.

Yet the weeks swim on without evidence of Mick, and still you distrust his absence, which feels entirely hinged on his inevitable return.

“How could he know you’re out here?” asks Lyanne over the bar one night, her pierced nose wrinkling. “He’s a psycho, not a bloody psychic. Got to start living your life again, mate. Don’t let that perve fuck you up for good.”

She shoves a beer at you, nodding approvingly as you down the pint and shake the glass at her for more.

Four drinks later you disappear into the women’s bathroom, sitting in the end cubicle with your head in your hands, tearful and slightly drunk. It’s the first time you’ve had enough access to feeling to cry, and you still cannot quite find release in it.

You never were one for tears, even before Mick Taylor crushed your heart under his weapons. Your method has always been to withdraw away from all things into yourself, that recess from which only your father could ever coax you out.

Now, forced to smile at customers as you mop floors of spilled drinks and shattered glasses you’re unable to shrink into that old cave of quiet. Perhaps it will be good for you to immerse yourself so quickly into the world, you reason; a few more months’ wages and you’ll be home again, after all, across the miles of sea between you and Mick Taylor’s country.

Wiping your eyes, you flush, and buckle up your jeans, taking your time to return to the bustling pub. As you push the cubicle door open a man steps into the gap, the grit of his unfriendly squint like grains of night above his grin.

“Found ya,” says Mick, and with a vicious jerk he headbutts you square in the brow.

The assault careers you back into the cubicle again, your skull a windchime of ringing agony.

Adrenaline tops you up quicker than fear. As Mick fills the space you make a fist and strike out at him, which he dodges with a startled chuckle.

“That's my girl,” he says. “Ya got a bit of fire in ya this time. Won’t do you any good. You’re gonna wish ya stayed where I left you, ya runaway cunt.”

A growl churning from his throat, Mick flattens you to the wall of the cubicle with a punch to your stomach, causing you to double over him like a lover seeking solace.

Mick’s arms go around you, and he pulls you to his chest in a throttling squeeze.

“Bet you thought I wouldn’t find ya,” he sneers against your cheek. “Livin’ it up in the arse end of nowhere with ya girlfriend. Lyanne, is it?”

He hauls you out of the cubicle and throws you against the hand dryers, setting them into gusting motion at your back.

“What have you done to her?” you ask, slumping, bruised and shell-shocked to the grubby floor tiles. "Leave her alone."

Mick guffaws.

"Don’t fancy sharing her with me, then. Bloody shame. Might have been fun.”

He bends down and drags you up on tiptoe by the front of your t-shirt, compressing one breast flat in his fist.

“Get your arse up, you lazy Yank.”

You flop uselessly in Mick’s hold as he tows you into the bar, which aside from the muttering televisions is of an unnatural silence.

Death in its ruddy carnage lies everywhere, patrons gut-slit and opened out like a butcher’s windows, their organs piled in steaming mounds before them.

Some lie in trains of blood, their still hands become claws of desperation, having been cut down from behind, or else shot through the back of the head like cows at the end of some slaughterhouse corridor.

Lyanne is among them, her punctured chest rising and falling shallowly with fading breaths. You spy the desperate roll of her sclera in the direction of your footsteps and attempt to go to her, but Mick heaves you sharply back.

“What do ya think you’re doin’?” he snaps. “Fifteen minutes and she’ll be as dead as your father. Give it a rest, will ya?”

With incredible strength for a man of his age, Mick hoists you up across a nearby table top amongst broken glass, uncaring of the shards that slash your cheek upon landing. Before you’ve truly felt the injury you’re turned on your back, Mick’s palm dashing across your face in a spindrift of blood.

He rears over you, his thin mouth a helix of rage.

“I should cut ya clit off for the trouble you’ve caused me. First ya left me, right, then you went and stirred up a loada coppers after me. They’ve been a bloody nuisance, sniffin’ around for weeks. What have ya got to say for yourself, eh?”

“You shot my dad,” you whisper through fearfully gritted teeth. “You— you— made me—"

“I fingered ya till you came and I then I fucked ya till you did it again,” says Mick, and he licks his lips, one hand slipping down to adjust his firming trouser front. “Gave ya a bloody treat. Bet you’ve been missing me after that corker of a first time.”

Your innards warp with terrified revulsion.

“I hate you,” you say, softly. “I hope you rot.”

Mick leans forward and laps your face from mouth to cheek with a throaty moan of delight.

“I love it when ya talk dirty,” he growls, then his stare flattens with a sudden cruelty, and he goes nose to nose with you, his hat colliding with your swollen forehead.

“Take ya fuckin’ clothes off, America. What did I tell you about wearin’ jeans?”

Grimacing, you shake your head, a bitter mistake. You see the anger wash through Mick like a tide in the apocalypse, and suddenly he has a knife in his hand, lashing its steel arc across your left breast as you squeal and scratch the table top for support.

“Fuckin’ move it, ya slow cunt,” says Mick, “or I’ll cut the other one.”

With struggling hands you peel your top over your head and set it clumsily aside, the fingers you’d nursed in the mine still bandaged and poorly healing.

Mick watches with a lascivious fascination, unable to resist reaching out with both coarse hands to manipulate your breasts. He plays with their hardened points with a coarseness that, for all its foulness, carves through you that bleak and familiar god of pleasure.

It’s only doubled as Mick harshly tongues blood from the nipples, sucking them between his teeth like cherries from the stem.

You stare at the flickering televisions broadcasting some dull sports event, unable to cast your gaze anywhere else without looking upon death, or its maker.

Mick pulls back from you, wiping gore from his stubble on the heel of his fist.

“Let me give you a hand there, darlin’,” he says, and takes your boots off, one by one, the thud of them landing on the grimy flooring making you start twice over.

Your good hand slips back across the table, landing upon an evil shard of glass. Closing your fingers over it you tense, thinking to jab your enemy in his soft throat when he next bends to torment your body.

With an abrupt motion Mick wrenches your arm behind your back and hits you in the face until you can hardly breathe for the many bursts of pain.

“Ah, come on, America,” says Mick, with a false amiability. “I know what you’re gonna do before ya do it.”

You dry heave over the side of the table, unable to cope with so many avenues of suffering at once.

Sighing, Mick unbuttons your jeans and drags them off over your ankles.

“Christ,” he says, dumping them to one side with emphatic disgust. “Have to do everything myself.”

From the low vantage of the floor Lyanne moans and coughs; you realise she’s been watching the entire scene through weakening eyes, and beholds that her attempt to liberate you was all for nothing.

“Got a bloody good view down there, haven’t ya, sheila?” says Mick, following your eye line. “Bet ya regret breaking her out now, don’t ya? And convincin’ her to wear this girl power punk shit.”

He spits through his teeth, missing Lyanne by a hair.

“Well, you can watch your sweetheart get what’s coming to her.”

Twisting your underwear aside, Mick unsheathes his cock from his pants and thrusts into you without preparation, humming low in his throat as you scream from the suddenness of his piercing.

The pain is like fire upon fire, a dual war of burning. You thrash on the suttee of it, arms outstretched across the table top in a stigmata of Mick's sharp enmity.

A boiled kettle scream is gouged from you as though by your attacker’s blade. You slap at his broad shoulders, wanting him off you, out of you, but Mick only pounds deeper into your writhing form, his hands on your breasts holding you down.

You try not to look at Lyanne, whose choked cries of horror entwine with Mick’s grunts of porcine delight. That you have an audience to your humiliation is unbearable, every rough, perspiring thrust witnessed by the very friend who’d hoped to liberate you from such grotesquery.

You attempt to restrain your cries of pain to spare her that, at least, but Mick jars meanly into you with a smack of soldered flesh. His girth is as punishing as you remember, widening your entrance almost beyond its limit.

“This is what you get for pissing me off, darlin’,” says Mick, and he closes his palm against your throat until you sputter, airless, in his grip. “Last time we had a bit of a play I warmed ya up first. Got ya wet and ready. I was bloody nice to ya.”

With his free hand he slaps your breasts, catching the cut there so that it opens again, spilling its bounty down your belly to your navel.

“Bet you’re missing my hand in ya cunt now. Don’t usually have sheilas drip on me fingers like you, America. But it feels like you’re already gettin’ used to me. Ain’t just ya tits that're wet.”

He slows his strokes, parting your labia with two calloused fingers to show the slick on the shaft of his cock.

“What do you think of that, Lyanne?” he leers, brushing a lazy thumb over your clitoris so that you jerk in horrified surprise. “Your pal’s a fuckin’ whore. Not worth the trouble you put into rescuin’ her.”

Lyanne gurgles, bubbles of crimson saliva bursting on her lips. As you shut your eyes Mick seizes you by the hair and forces you to look at her, shaking your head about like a turned dog with a child it despises.

“Look her in the eye, America. It’s your fault I had to go for her and everyone else in this fuckin’ hole. Least ya can do is own up to it.”

“No,” you choke out between hateful thrusts. “No. It’s you. You’re a murderer.”

Mick plants a sloppy kiss on your turned cheek.

“Well, you’re not wrong there, darlin’. Still, wouldn’t have killed any of these bastards if you’d stayed in the mine. Thought ya could beat me, ya stupid cunt.”

Briefly withdrawing from you, Mick turns you onto your front, banging your brow upon the table with enough force to stun you beneath him.

You sob as he hammers into you again, his bulk jammed to your back, reeking of dirt, and of cigarettes, of sex.

Your eyes fall on the watch strapped to one thickly-haired arm, and it occurs to you how very late in the night it’s grown, how much time he’s already spent fucking you.

“I’m gonna make ya wish I’d shot ya like your dad,” says Mick, his lips grazing your bare shoulder. “Fuck ya till you can’t walk, or you’re limpin’ like I filled the wrong hole. You’re gonna be sore for weeks, sheila. No doubt about it.”

You attempt to pull yourself forward and off his cock, but Mick draws you back with a lazy ease.

“Better not, darlin’,” he says. “Didn’t work out for ya last time. Want me to break ya fingers again? You’ll be wanking with your shit hand for weeks.”

Whimpering, you say, “Stop it, Mick, please—”

“Ah, quit your moanin’, will ya? You Yanks can’t shut your traps for five bloody minutes. Land of the free my arse. You’ve had too much fuckin’ freedom if you ask me.”

Tugging your head back painfully Mick sinks his teeth into your earlobe, sucking until you screech in protest. His cock swells within you in hungry response to such tortured music.

“Fuck, you’re still so bloody tight. Mate didn’t finger you while you were on ya holiday, then. Thought you two would’ve been going at it on the daily. Least ya can see what you’ve been missing, eh, Lyanne?”

Mick pauses to drag your right leg up onto the table top so as to fuck you deeper still. It starts a new pain within you, a bruised, blunt cramp that almost makes you sick.

“I shouldn’t let ya come,” says Mick. “Dunno why I let ya the last time. Probably just the novelty of it. Been a long while since a bitch has finished when I’ve fucked them. Too busy yellin’ down me ear to think about it, most of the time. Must have something loose in your head to have an orgasm with your father's blood all over ya.”

He kisses your neck and mouth with renewed interest, reminiscing even as he creates this new nightmare of violence. A hand squeezes between your loins and the table, unable to resist seeking the cherished reaction of before.

“No,” you croak. “Not again.”

“Yeah,” Mick moans, between harsh kisses. “Gonna make ya come right here, taking my cock, looking at all the corpses you helped to make.”

His blunt fingertips lace your wet cunt, his familiarity with it eking out the sense of your damnation. As he does so Lyanne releases the guttural noise of her dying, and you are overcome with the knowledge that you have killed her by proxy, that you should have stayed in the pit, after all.

Mick's rhythm increases, quick and deep with the excitement of this horror. He touches you in a clever asterisk of motion, and to your despair you reach your crisis upon him, a volcanic event of heat and screams.

“That’s a good girl,” he croons. “Come for your Uncle Mick.”

Then his right arm folds across your chest, and with a snarl he joins you in climax, fucking you through every ring of this robbed pleasure until it wreaks its last.

You sprawl under him as though you, too, are dead, shutting eyes and mouth against the capsule hell of that monstrous room.

Mick climbs off you and does up his belt, humming cheerily under his breath, a familiar habit.

“Ya know what,” he says. “Ya might be a weak bloody Yank but you’re a good root. Get dressed, America. I’m takin’ ya home.”

You open your eyes to look at him, so ordinary in his plaid shirt and plain, working man’s features that the entire night might seem some intrusive fantasy, were it not for the blood soaking his clothes in inky blooms.

“Christ,” says Mick. “What’s gotten into ya? Here, have a drink for the road.”

He strides over to the bar and helps himself to a beer, pouring the foamy amber liquid over your face as he did the water, a month ago. You part your lips to swallow, wanting to forget through drunkenness the devil’s work that you’ve endured.

“That’s it,” says Mick, as you drain the glass. “It’ll do ya good.”

Dully, you get down from the table and dress, your hands working of their own accord. Mick eyes your body openly, seemingly poised to change his mind and have you walk out of the pub entirely nude.

In the end he only whistles at you as he would a dog, and in leaden resignation you follow, the remnants of your life hanging like the skin of a flayed man at your back.

#shingleback wolf creek #tw violence #tw noncon #tw blood #tw death #tw rape #tw queer fetishisation #wolf creek fic #wolf creek #mick taylor x reader #mick taylor wolf creek #mick taylor

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stcllata · 2 months

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𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐀. italian translation of the word starry.

hey, what's goodie? name is kelly. she/her. taurus. i was born in 1981; you can do the math yourself. also happen to be a roleplay veteran, been at this since 1997. this is a multimuse account [ you probably remember venusiiian, oxtaiiiled and tawruhs ]. 85-90% of the time i'm mobile; i've also got a full time job and outside responsibilities. i'm going to be keeping this real simple. don't be a dick and we'll get along just fine.

PROMO. PROMPTS. STARTER CALLS. MEME CALL.

work schedule; sundays [ 2:00 pm through 7:00 pm EST ], mondays through thursdays [ 8:00 am through 3:00 pm EST ].

blogroll; @galcttica, @bykokoro, @nottc.

affiliates; @bruisin @bruz3r @byeolyeou @crankfield @dcmoniism @dixoniisms @hisfinesse @italianexotiicbeauty @kurjaks @likeprotege @nxtahxro @oathfcrged @ofbitterdeath @pwrups @scalpelwielding @shotgunshellsandfeathers @sxltedgxn @tobeblamed @whcwashe

muse list is under the cut.

arranged alphabetically by LAST NAME.

CANONS.

ARGENT, christopher. teen wolf. jr bourne.

BARNES, james. mcu. sebastian stan.

CONSTANTINE, john. dceu. keanu reeves.

GERARD, marcellus. the originals. charles michael davis.

GILBERT, elena. the vampire diaries. poppy drayton.

GROVER, ziggy. power rangers. milo cawthorne.

HALE, rosalie. twilight. nikki reed.

KENT, clark. smallville. tom welling.

LEGUME, gilbert. son of gaston. dylan playfair.

MCCALL, scott. teen wolf. tyler posey.

PALMER, raymond. arrowverse. brandon routh.

PARK, adam. power rangers. johnny yong bosch.

ROGERS, steven. mcu. chris evans.

SCOTT, jason lee. power rangers. austin st john.

WINCHESTER, samuel. supernatural. jared padalecki.

ORIGINALS.

ACQUARONE, cathán murrough. selkie. daniel gillies. bio.

BRECKENRIDGE, graham. lawyer. ben barnes.

BARTON, francine. daughter of hawkeye and black widow. stella maeve.

BENNETT, sheila grayson. witch; daughter of bonnie and jeremy. vanessa morgan.

CLARKE, sinclair. cleaner. adam driver.

CRESCENTI, zeno. son of venus. luke pasqualino.

HINTON, royce emery. real estate attorney. henry cavill. bio.

DIMITRIOU, cassian. son of lucifer. dacre montgomery. bio.

HOWELL, wallis. leanansídhe. bella thorne.

LOSNEDAHL, ylva. vampire; sired by elijah mikaelson. olivia holt.

MESERVE, delphine. beta werewolf. shay mitchell.

PATTERSON, euan coinneach. beta werewolf. tobias sorensen. bio.

REYES, ximena. drug cartel queenpin. eiza gonzález.

RIESE, evan. prostitute. colton haynes.

ROMERO, lennox. demon. cody christian.

ROSTAGNO, alayna ileana. hunter. lindsay morgan. bio.

SAVARESE, kelly. hunter. werewolf. emilia clarke.

SCHEINBERG, theodore. serum-infused; retired army sergeant. ronen rubinstein.

STILINSKI, bazyli “baz” jacenty. blind stilinski twin. younger by 10 minutes. dylan o'brien (as dave hodgman).

TRUMBAUER, alfons. head librarian. lee pace.

VAN DEN BERG, melchior theodoor. british secret agent. michiel huisman.

WAINWRIGHT, raleigh. demon hunter. justin hartley.

WILLOUGHBY, darcy. wendigo. phoebe tonkin.

WIRTH, adelais johanna. crime scene investigator. katherine mcnamara. bio.

JUN. private security. lee jeno.

NALINI OF AGRABAH. street rat crown princess. daughter of aladdin and jasmine. emeraude toubia.

TINRAHNE. succubus. kate beckinsale.

#.pinned

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imaginationlandtrilogy · 2 years

Text

Earlier in the month I made a post expressing my interest in making a South Park Monster High AU, as they're the top two media I'm the most invested in at the moment. I've since expanded on that through different characters and what monsters I'd like them to be, so all of that is below ⇩.

I didn't want to force myself to make a decision on some, so some more prevalent characters don't have a monster type yet!

Kyle: Vampire

I wanted to make Kyle a vampire, as I have a fondness of vampires and a strong favoritism toward Kyle... so he gets my favorite monster! As you'll find out throughout my headcanons here, I love it when there are contrasting themes and subverted expectations, so another reason I like Kyle as a vampire is because, much like Draculaura, he wouldn't like blood! He wouldn't be a vegetarian like her, but I just feel that he would have an aversion to blood, given his aversion to germs throughout the series (primarily shown in "Pee" and "Turd Burglars"). I think it would be true to canon to have him dislike blood and find it gross to consume. It would also shake things up a bit with the vampire trope and find some resemble to Draculaura, the most prominent vampire character in Monster High!

If Kyle is a vampire, it would mean one or two of his parents would have to be as well... Both! I really like the idea of a vampire Sheila and Gerald. If you're not familiar with Monster High lore, it's sort of built into canon that vampires are more respected monsters and ... upper class citizens, in a way? I thought this would be a nice parallel to "Chicken Pox" with what Gerald was telling Kyle about gods and clods (more on this later).

Ike: Sea Serpent

Ike isn't a vampire like the rest of his family, as he's adopted. I did consider making him human, but I grew very attached to the idea of him as a sea creature. While vampires tend to emulate humans more in appearance, I wanted Ike to look more monstrous - I want it to show in his features. I imagine him to be a different color, perhaps a greenish blue, with gils on his face, horns, webbed hands and feet, and a long tail. His difference in appearance from his family would represent his Canadian heritage. It's a common joke in South Park that Canadians look different from everyone else, so I want this to show with Ike's more monstrous appearance compared to his family.

Ike has also shown a love for pirates at points in the series, and sea serpents are always closely related to pirates. Of course, most often, they're seen as the enemy of pirates, but I feel as if in a monster world, sea serpents would be the pirates... so it would be very cool to see Ike as a sea serpent with that in mind!

Stan: Werewolf

The majority of this is based on vibes. Stan is just... a dog person, so why not make him a dog-person? I also like the idea of the two main characters being the most culturally prominent monsters (I blame 2000s YA novels for that). He's very dogish in personality, and tends to be a follower rather than a leader, which emulates a canine's desire to please.

With Stan comes his parents and his sister... I see them as werewolves, too. I especially like the idea of Shelley as a werewolf, as I think it fits her well. Again, bringing the subversion of expectations back, some braces come in silver... and... werewolves do not like silver. I think it would be funny to give a werewolf Shelley silver braces. Maybe that's why she's so easy to anger...? Werewolves are also physically strong, which Shelley definitely is. Last semester, I also took a class on paranormal stories from the Victorian era and found out about the existence of a novel: "The Were-Wolf" written by Clemence Housman. It's a story published in 1896 and, as the title suggests, features a werewolf... but the werewolf was a woman! Themes of woman's suffrage and Victorian-age feminism were incorporated into the book, as well as the female werewolf. Werewolves are definitely what people would consider more masculine, so it was really interesting to see a novel subverting these expectations (!) so long ago. That being said, this is kind of why I have more of an explanation for werewolf Shelley than Stan. It could also apply to Sharon as well. I just love the idea of a traditionally male or female monster being portrayed by the opposite or in-between (which I'll also discuss later).

Kenny: Zombie

How could Kenny be anything but a Zombie? It fits far too well. Zombies are dead and are able to rise again after 'death', and that strongly emulates what Kenny is. The first Halloween episode of the show also featured Kenny as a zombie!

In Monster High, zombies don't really speak the same language as the others. They communicate in groans and moans. The audience can't understand them, but the other characters are able to understand and communicate easily with them. That just sounds so much like Kenny! He has his muffled speech that the audience (generally) can't understand, but other characters are able to understand and communicate with easily!

Going back to what I said about "Chicken Pox" in Kyle's section, in the Monster High universe (primarily expressed in the webisodes), zombies aren't seen as higher class citizens as some of the other monsters. In fact, they're often looked down upon and not taken as seriously because they're zombies. I found this to be a nice parallel to what Gerald was saying in that episode, as he expressed that he felt he was more important because of who he was (having a "slightly higher intellect than others") compared to Stuart. With vampires being higher class in the MH universe and zombies traditionally being lower... the comparison was too good not to make.

Craig: Ccoa

I wanted to find something unique for Craig... not just something related to guinea pigs. So, much like the others, I sought after canon. Ccoas are catlike creatures hailing from Quechuan (indigenous people of Peru) folklore. They're more so spirits than anything, and are closely related with constellations and the stars. I would recommend clicking the link for more information!

In Monster High, there are numerous characters represented with monsters from their culture, so, as Craig canonically has something to do with Peru... I really wanted to give him a Peruvian creature, and what better than a cat involved in the stars? He gives me more catlike vibes - his whole family does! - and he loves space, so this really was a good match.

I like the headcanon that Laura is Peruvian, so I think what I would do is make Laura and Craig Ccoas, but make Thomas and Tricia regular cat-people. The thought of Thomas as a catboy is really funny to me because he's kind of goofy looking! I think I would want him to be an orange Scottish Fold. He has that big bald spot, and Scottish Folds are known for having their ears down, so I thought it fit well! Laura, a ccoa, married a werecat (in Monster High terms... but still a catboy, techincally), Thomas, and they had two children: Craig (a ccoa like his mother) and Tricia (a werecat like her father).

Tweek: Ghost

I love this one. I love the thought of Tweek as a ghost. Once again with the subversion of expectations, the thought of a ghost that's easily startled is appealing to me. I think it makes for a more interesting character... kind of like an inner conflict to pass! The other reason I have for this is his hair... Tweek's hair would translate visually well into wisps. It would be an easy design to create.

Clyde: Banshee

A banshee is a spirit originating from Irish folklore. They're traditionally women, however, I feel as if the description fits Clyde - as well as his family - well. First and foremost, I'd like to compare this illustration of a banshee to Betsy after her death. They're very similar, so this way, Betsy wouldn't have to 'die' at all - she's a banshee! Interestingly enough, one of the primary connections of banshees are dead family members... They're known to scream, wail, or shriek in lamenting the dead. They tend to be emotional creatures, which, again, I feel captures Clyde well. He's much more rooted in emotion than anything else - it's a prime characteristic of his, after all.

Bebe: Centaur

I have the design in my head, and I love it. I imagine Bebe to be a horse girl, and I headcanon her as such, so the idea of her being a centaur is appealing to me. When I think of centaurs, I often imagine long, luscious hair and a tail. Bebe has very recognizable hair - I would say it's her strongest physical trait, so it makes sense for her to be a creature with such emphasis put on the hair/mane.

#☆#mh au

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thevoidwriting · 4 months

Text

Welcome home.

Tw pups gendered looks, pre talk of ftm and mental struggles, depression, suicidal thoughts, multiple povs, pup will be referred to still as pup, hcs then fic time be scared I did this at work, tell me if I missed anything. Bad puns

Headcanons

Works at the local bar, as a bartender and bouncer, he tries his best, makes a mean cocktail.

Acts like a disappointed dad with kids 18 and under they come in with fake IDs and try to act the big game, gives them Shirley temples and didn't tell them.

Gets protective if they look or smell like their home life is bad. "I got ya kid, just rest in the back I'll wake you when it's time to leave." He'll growl out.

He checks on them from time to time after they leave his custody to make sure their really doing better

Once he gets pup, he excitedly tell them he's a real dad now since he has a blood child, he's doesn't love them any less of anything he loves them more. "Their just so bloody perfect." Crys a lot.

Tells his witch buddy they are his lil blessing, she just smiles at him lovingly like a older sister that just got notification that their now a aunt

He keeps a pic of them in his wallet, one current and one of them as a baby, he stole the baby pic from their mom, sneaky lil devil wolf.

Keeps a photo album of his favorite pics jokes on him now he has 4 of them cause he doesn't want to miss a moment of their life now

Wishes he could have been there more for them, keep their mother from making them feel like they didn't belong since they were afab and feel male

He's making up for it as much as a man who didn't know he had a child can. Lots of support.

He's was on the brink of killing himself when pup was dropped on his door step more on that later

He knows without pup he would be dead, either by his own hand or asking to be back in his kings service, he just knows he wouldn't be a dad,

low and behold arawn his king would make sure he was a dad, though natural means or unnatural means

Arawn would have made it so, call up Loki to seduce the gwyllgi, helloki, his king always wanted pups from him so it was always in his cards to be a dad, it's why his king gave him up so willingly without much of a fight.

Arawn will be the wine aunt of swonds litters.

Fic time call back

As he looks at the dim bar, he was done for the night, not really wanting to take anyone home, he looks at Steph. "Your alone tonight want me to stay and help out boss man?" He asks, Steph was a 50 year old Irish man, the owner of the bar, he could handle himself sure but he owned the man to much.

"nah take your time off laddie ya be needing more than I need you." The man chuckles, when Steph calls him laddie it warms his heart since it's been a good minute since he's been a laddie.

"sure thing boss man, call if you need me, not like a have family to be away from." Swond teases, Steph winces at that. "Get one it's worth the trouble, trust me I would love to have mine back." The man mummers softly, Stephs family died while he was away at war trying to keep everyone safe. The pain he hears on the man voice almost makes him cry, " your young, health get you a good woman or man, the Lord's know I don't judge." Steph chuckles, " maybe old timer." He leans on the bar top watching Stephs eyes crinkle in amusement at being called old timer.

"get some laughter in the home o' yours," Steph laughs out, "it's to big and to quiet for just your sorry hide." Steph finished, "never met the right lass is all." Swond defends, hands up. Steph chuckles again, "so then find the wrong lass raise some hell then find the right one settle down have a few kids amd settle down. That's what makes life worth living my boy," Steph hums out, maybe his boss was right.

Maybe it was time to start a family, "sure thing you old buzzard," Swond moves to grab his sling bag. He'd known Steph since Steph was 20 years old, doesn't ask why he doesn't age just accepts it fae magic and moves on. "When you ask Sheila out then I'll think about starting a family. Ask a nice lass out." He says jokingly with a wink, it's about time Steph moved on and gets a new wife and Shelia is a widow with two kids that need a strong father figure.

"aye is that a promise ya dodgy bastard." He jokes and challenges Swond. Of course Steph would do this knowing Swond wouldn't back down. "You know I won't back down from that." He throws a wink to his boss, adjusting his bag. He says his good byes then exits to the cold and damp.

He puffs out his breath feeling like a pup again, of course the cold would bring this out in him. "To my king I hope the new years finds you well and healthy. May ye's health continue to flourish." He whispers out a small prayer to his king arawn. He still misses his king, regretting why he left, for a feckless and fickle lass. Now he's wearly of anyone who's tounge is layed with flattery, he puffs out another breath thinking about how most can't be trusted past a few nights, he should ask to be put back in service to his king. "Like he'd take me back, I left him once whose to say I won't again." He chastised himself he knew better, it's a long cold walk home.

Apon his doorstep is a woman barely 18 by the looks of it, she sobbing softly, if not for his hound hearing he wouldn't know, she had snow white hair with wolf ears tipped in red, her hair tips match, a matching tail as well, flat chested and no hips, she looks up at his approach and he freezes she has blood red eyes, a small button nose and fangs just a bit to big for her mouth, she's in flannel, t shirt, jeans and high tops. "Dad?" She whispers.

He's in shock, he stopped by her. "I'm not anyone's dad I've been very careful, sweetheart where is your parents?" He asks as softly as a 8 ft tall man can, "s-she left me here, and said I'm my dads problem now. That was 9 hours ago." Just his luck he has a crying teenager on his door stop.

He lets her in to warm up, texting the rest of his make shift pack to see whose closet to see if she was his, since he can't smell it himself, as they wait he feeds and waters her, lets her borrow one of his shirts to help warm her up, she doesn't talk much he doesn't either. She acts so much like him it's unnerving, she's scared of her own shadow, so defensive for someone so tiny at 5'5, it takes about a hour for, Tyler to show up.

"Swond you told me you had a unknown, HELLO CHILD OF HIS." Tyler practically screams seeing and sniffing the air. Well that concerns and confirms it. "Tyler I've been safe how is she mine." Swond asks his friend. "Can you call the witch and see what she can find since pup will be staying here now, her mom dropped her off and ran while I was at work." Swond rubs his left brow, looking at her trying to make herself smaller. "I'm 18 I can take care of myself you know." She piples up. He give her a drool stare. " Not happing lass." They both say at the same time she just curls up more on the couch. They talk for a few hours at this point she's calmed down and her hair is now blond no trace of her ears and tail now. " We have to train her into her new powers, tell her what she is." Swond speaks softly as not to wake her as he picks her up to place her in bed.

That's how their first night went and from there it's just him trying to be the best dad he can be and trying to be respectful of his pups gender, now if you want to know about the time he broke into pups moms place I could be talked into sharing that.

#swond #pup is home #my writing #dragon musings #hells hand basket

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