hmmm an idea for wild packs in general:
Instead of a single pack of like 15+ dogs cause that’s just not sustainable or realistic, how about several nearby family groups that all have their own kinda territories? Like, not super protective of their land just a “this is occupied think twice about settling here” mentality, and they semi regularly band together under Mr Wolfdog because he’s the strongest. Lots of taking small prey until deer season or something which is when Wolfdog calls the mega pack together?
You're not far off the mark from what I made!
Packs have now become Pacts, and are more a loose conglomeration of dogs who swear fealty to a leader, called a Boss. In an ordinary pact, dogs live a little more spread-out from one another, usually sheltering with their sibling, lover, companion, or family. The Boss is the one in charge of organizing dogs to take care of a threat or negotiate with other Bosses.
Pacts only gather during nights of the full and new moon and other important nights for the great howl. Nights of the full moon also are the appropriate times for new dogs to swear fealty to the Boss and for puppies to undergo the final step in their coming-of-age ceremonies. These great howls are for dogs from the same pact to get to know one another and to learn of any new dogs in the region.
The Wolfdog subverts this by making everyone sleep in the same camp, nearly micromanaging their lives, and punishing dogs when they behave how he doesn't want them to. Most of his dogs were strays, abandoned pets, or were born into the pact, so most of them are extremely vulnerable to his abuse.
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Demon (No name yet?) x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)
You sold your soul. The thought never even crossed your mind until the day when travesty came to your loved ones. You knew there were rumors of people selling their most sacred self for many things, fame, fortune, beauty, yet you yourself traded for a different price.
To rework the damage of time, of events you could never be able to mend without help. You had tried to make peace with what transpired, but couldn't bear it. Thus you had decided your life was unliveable. What good was a soul if your heart was splintered into fragments. What good was a soul to a being that no longer wished to live without those who made life worth living? To rewrite the threads of fate bore a heavy price, and you could never see your other loved ones again. It was a cruel price, but one you gladly took.
Remembering the flash of bright pearlescent teeth, almost glowing in the dark. Turning with fear as a light bloomed into existence, the bright had burned your eyes. You pressed your fingers to your eyes as you ground tilted under your fit. As if the very ground had become a swarm of writhing snakes.
You had been prepared for the worst. You were ready to suffer ten-fold for your wish to abuse the hands of fate. Yet perhaps it was one last glimmer of luck, that your benefactor themselves ended up being an oddity. Dressing you up like a pompous porcelain doll and parading you around as if you were some kind of priceless luxury.
You examined your reflection in the mirror, tilting your head up to look at the dark lace like marks that encircled your neck. Fingertips smoothing over warm skin, digging your thumbnail against one of the elegant swirls and scratching at it. It was, no use of course, you had tried all sorts of ways to remove it. Your stare into your eyes instead, trying to read the expression on your own face.
Then a bell tinkled and you looked over your shoulder, before begrudgingly slouching out of the large baroque restroom in your private suite. The bell ment tea time and the first tea time of the month could only mean one thing. You dreaded the new clothes that would have to endure. They were usually poofy, with enough ruffles that you had entertained the idea of pulling them all off and using them as a rope to escape out the window. Seeing a prettily wrapped parcel on your bed you could only sigh.
It was cruel and unusual torment, yet considering how you had thought your new life was going to be. . . it was better in spades compared to that. You gingerly pull apart the bow, and open the box. Feeling your face sag as you lift up the garment. Well. . . it's. . . certainly.
Something.
Something as in, you felt like a pink profiterole as you waddled to the parlor. If the pants were any poofier perhaps you could use them to make a hot air balloon.
You sat with your hands folded in your lap as you looked out the window. Home, they had insisted you call this new world. Yet it felt like a gilded cage. No matter how pretty, how decorated the iron was, they were still bars. Your guard had been down, mind wandering as you stared out the window. You hadn't noticed the shadow looming over you until it was too late.
A clawed hand reaches over and gently pinches your cheek, which makes you scrunch up your nose and shake your head.
"Look at you!" They squealed, tail lashing back and forth. "Perfect, perfect, you are absolutely darling!"
They acted with an air of an overly affectionate aunt, and it was truly the most bizarre experience.
They clapped their hands. "I want to see all of it!"
With the air of a waterlogged cat trying to reclaim their dignity you stood slowly. Watching as they make a dramatic show of looking you up and down before spinning a perfect clawed finger.
"Do a little turn for me? Oh pretty please with a cherry on top?"
S i g h.
You turn on your heel slowly, lip jut in a pout, holding your arms out at your sides. You arms fall to your sides as your finish your and wait for further instructions. their hands clasped to their cheek and staring at you with something like tears in their eyes.
"You are just so scrumptious! OOH I could just eat you up!!"
You remember being terrified when they first said that, but now you blink mildly and politely sit back down.
They tap a fingernail against their sharp teeth, "I will have to plan. . . for next month maybe something in lilac yes. . ."
You take a deep breath, well, you told yourself you would ask, it's now or never.
"My liege. . ." You swallow thickly, "Perhaps I could. . . pick the design this time?"
You wait for the atmosphere to change waiting for the floor to drop out and you to fall into a fiery hell pit.
When you peek at them they look more like they want to cry.
"Really?"
You guiltily look at the tiered pastry tray "If it wouldn't be too much tro-" The last word gone as they fling their arms around you.
"Aaaaaa!!" They shrill, "Oh yes! Yes, yes, yes! Oh my lil cream puff, my lil cupcake you can have whatever you would like!"
Your eyes wide as you are rocked back and forth. It's getting hard to breathe. "M-my leige-" You wheeze, patting their back urgently.
"I was hoping and hoping you would ask I–" They drop you immediately, taking a step away with their hands held behind their back. "O-oh yes. Of course, touching, you don't like that whole invasion of personal space" They twitter nervously tugging at their collar with a finger. "Whoopsie, w-won't happen again!"
Enjoy what I write? I have a tip jar! I also take writing and art commissions on kofi! ヽ(*ᵔ▿ᵔ)ノ
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Wyll taking Halsin to the Wilden Oak after observing how much he was struggling to adapt to the City, thinking it would cheer him up *and* be special enough that maybe he can work up the nerve to ask him something important. Telling him about how he used to daydream about the stories it could tell him, and how it brought him comfort - how it may bring him comfort as well. And maybe he thinks he's talking too much, too fast, but it all pours out of him with heart-aching sincerity.
Halsin listening thoughtfully to Wyll's fanciful dreams of dragons and the Weave, and chuckling fondly at how eager he is; how whimsical he makes everything sound. Bubbling over with how happy it makes him to hear Wyll so beautifully matching the splendor of this tree with such fanciful tales, admiring it for what it is.
Wyll's face heating up, thinking he must be laughing at his stories, and ah, hells, he's gone and fumbled this, of course an Archdruid would think fairytales of trees to be foolish and childish. Mumbling it must sound silly to him.
Halsin frowning then, brought out of his affectionate thoughts. "Oh, no, not at all. I think it's wonderful. Here, let me show you something."
Halsin bringing Wyll's hand up to the bark of the tree and pressing it beneath his own to the ridges and grooves, encouraging him to listen closely again as he had as a boy. Telling him that trees speak to those who care to hear them, even if they cannot understand them. Wyll closing his eyes, flustered at how close they are, but - after a moment of quiet - hearing the barest tendrils of something touching the edges of his mind. Nothing he is able to understand, but he swears he feels it; more than he ever has before.
Halsin himself listening and catching the discernable memories the oak is able to give him amidst the transfer - the tiniest glimpses of generations and magic long past. Perhaps even a dragon cutting its lightning path through the sky, eons ago. He passes anything translatable gently off to Wyll, who listens, enraptured.
The Wilden reveals other things - other terrible things. Other sad things and tragic things, no where near the fairytales that Wyll spins. Halsin does not pass these memories on, but judging by the frown on Wyll's face, he senses it.
But there is something else - something closer to the heart - it calls Wyll "tree friend" - flashes of Wyll as a young boy, collecting its leaves from the ground. Of an older Wyll curled in on himself in the tangle of its roots, heartbroken; an even older Wyll turning his face to the dappled sun and smiling, little golden bands sparkling in his hair.
Halsin taking Wyll by the hand and bringing him deeper into the forest, scouting a good spot to plant the tiny wishing acorn Wyll had pressed bashfully into his palm with stories of his mother. Burying the seed deep into the ground so its roots may grow anew, just as glorious as its parent - waiting to bring joy to another a century down the line. Just as their lives have taken root within one another, tangled and new, but full of life.
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TJ IM FUCKING LOSONG MY MIND I CANT BELIEVE HE WON IM SO. IM SO. RAAAAA
And the first thing he said was “really? ….oh my god.” LIKE FUUUUUCK RAAAAA
and and and he didn’t even register that pearl died- fuck omg that hurt. Him going down into the ravine after pearl all pumped up like “where’d you go pearl?? Come out and fight me!” Only to find that she’s dead. And he’s alone. And he won.
And then he just starts laughing, like he can’t believe it.
Oh my god I could write something about this-
- binge reader
BINGE READER ANON IM GOING INSANEFERAL RN AND WRITING LITERALLY AS FAST AS I CAN FOR U GUYS, SO HELP ME GODS IF I DONT POST A FICLET FOR THIS--💥💥💥💥💥💥💥
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