A Kitten's Play Space

[werecreature-addicted]

people are always like "Oh a vampire wouldn't get horny while drinking someone's blood, that's like getting horny while eating a sandwich" and like man have you never had a really good fucking sandwich?

[radio-jupotter]

The sandwich i had for lunch didnt moan and scream and squirm against my body and then become limp and pliable when i was done now did it

[radio-jupotter]

(Via @morganpdf )

[pupucino]

[whitepeopletwitter]

[everyfreakingusernameitryistaken]

Tony Hawk’s Twitter is a gold mine honestly

[everyfreakingusernameitryistaken]

[rosslynpaladin]

We Stan this San Diego Man

[sugawara--san]

this

[dooflizard]

C o m e d yy

[hugtheteadrinkthekitten]

Some recent gems:

[hugtheteadrinkthekitten]

And of course there’s

[theseaissilent]

[disease-danger-darkness-silence]

#where is race war tony hawk tweet thats my fav (via @laughingfish​)

I gotchu, bro:

[trilllizardstrikesback]

[abysmallylost23]

i’m wheezgJmf stoP

[assassinregrets]

[parlezvousladybug]

Honestly every time this thread just makes me laugh. And new additions…excellent.

[kibumkim]

Adobe Caught Selling AI-Generated Images of Israel-Palestine Violence

Software giant Adobe has been caught selling AI-generated images of the Israel-Hamas war, as spotted by Australian news outlet Crikey.

[wizardpotions]

just a reminder that you should ALWAYS pirate adobe its always morally correct

[lucario1331]

oops!

looks like i droped my chart of alternatives to adobe software!

how clumsy of me!

it would seems i also dropped my link to flashpoint archive to play old archived adobe flash games and animations along with other old interactive elements in websites, with an included flash emulator!

[bookwyrminspiration]

god I would be UNSTOPPABLE if I was capable of consistently initiating tasks. just you wait. you'll be waiting a while but just you wait

[momolady]

Ambrose the Lich

Imagine being a werewolf and just looking for a place to shift in private. Now, imagine you find a nice quiet spot, only for that quiet spot to be haunted. Well, a little beyond haunted.

Female Reader (werewolf) x Male Monster (both cis)

There are so many legends and myths to go along with a full moon, you would almost believe it was something truly magic. And while I do love a moonlight night, a run through a valley so ethereal it could make you cry; it’s not what holds the power most of the time. It’s when the moon is new that you have to watch out for truly otherworldly things. When the world is blanketed in no light, swallowed up by darkness, that is when the world really comes alive.

As a child I dreaded the new moon, I hated the darkness. It was always a time I was least myself as it was harder to hold the transformation at bay. When you think ‘werewolf’ you instantly go to the full moon. Well, actually, the full moon isn’t the problem. The new moon is what causes involuntary shifting in most weres. I’m not sure exactly why, but I've heard a few stories in my life explaining it. Myths say werewolves were a blight, caused by the great evil of a father and son. Perhaps that’s why the new moon has the greatest hold.

The less moonlight, the more comfortable the hidden things of the world felt as well. So, combining the need to shift along with everything crawling around out there, it made for a stressful evening. I always get a bit antsy when the day comes around. Even as I’ve gotten older and gained a bit of control over my shifting, the new moon is always hard.

“It gets so dark so early now. I absolutely hate driving around at night.” The woman whose coffee I’m making is blathering on. I’m not sure if she’s on her phone or talking to me. I think she must have one of those bluetooth headphone things.

“It’s creepy around here. Once I can get out of here I’ll head home.” Now I know she’s talking to someone else, because she said that very pointedly at me.

I suppose she thinks it’s creepy around here because it’s close to Halloween, so the area is decorated and the library has set up a huge display outside. I don’t know sometimes, people take offense so easily these days.

“Iced caramel macchiato,” I called out once the order was done.

The lady took her drink, but didn’t walk away from the counter. I couldn’t close down until she left, and already the library was turning off the lights. I squirmed on the inside, hoping my manager would come back from the office. I started cleaning while the woman stood there on her phone.

I noticed patches of fur on the back of my hand as I wiped down the equipment. I tugged down my sleeve, willing the woman to get out. I felt a twitch with my teeth, so I turned back and put on my brightest smile.

“Ma’am, are you staying? We’re closing down, but if you need to wait for someone I don’t mind letting you wait in here since it’s so dark out.” It's not hard to be chipper, generally I am, but I am also anxious to get out of here.

The woman holds up a finger to me and I have to bite my cheek to keep myself in check for that split second. I had the itch to run, to shift and lose myself in the forest. If she didn’t leave soon, she’d probably see something that would really scare her.

My manager, Marie, came from the back with a sour look on her face. She saw me cleaning then turned to the woman standing in the middle of the cafe on her phone with her iced macchiato that had ten pumps of vanilla syrup, actual heavy whipping cream I had to whip myself, cold cream, extra whip, extra drizzle, and no ice.

Marie gave me a look, scoffing as she stepped out. “Excuse me, we’re closed. We have to clean up and we can’t-” She stopped when the woman gave her that ‘wait a second’ finger as well. That wasn’t a smart move. I just continued to clean up, doing my job so Marie didn’t turn around and snap my neck.

“No, no,” Marie laughed. “You can talk outside as easily as in here.” She approached the woman, coming up behind her. “I’m the manager, so you have no one to complain to if you don’t like it.”

The woman turned, but the look on her face said it all as she ran out the door. Marie turned, shutting her mouth so the wide corners that cut back to her ears sealed back, and her sharp teeth sank back into their hidden pockets.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I sighed.

“I’m the manager, Blair. I have the power!” Marie held out her hands and gestured up. She then glanced down and her dark red eyes scanned over my hand. “I’ll finish here. You go on.”

“You sure?” I said, full of hope.

“I don’t want dog hair all over my nice cafe.” She smirked at me and winked. “Take the Barlow Path I told you about. You won’t run across much there.”

I sighed with relief, taking off my apron and hanging it on the wall. “Thank you, Marie. I am getting twitchy.”

Marie shooed me with her hand. “A vampire knows how to treat her werewolves. Now get.”

I went out the door, locking my things into my car then putting my key lanyard around my neck. I strolled around the cafe towards the back of the library, heading towards the scenic walks the town had set up a few years ago. Some were for casually strolling, one for an exercise path, but the Barlow Path was a hike, as well as a history tour. During this time of year the Barlow Path was used for the haunted tours and hayrides. Along that path was a set of houses built and abandoned by the Barlow family. It was said the Barlows were accused of witchcraft and communing with demonic powers and rather than face persecution left their homes in the middle of the night.

I stepped onto the path, beginning the process of unbuttoning my blouse. My body tingled all over, stretching, moving around under my skin. The wolf was moving within me, waking to see the darkness all around them, their most favorite time of all.

I fell to all fours, and my leggings were beginning to grow tight and awkward. I ran forward, heading into the hidden sanctuary of the trees. The path was decorated with skeletons and ghosts, tombstones, and twinkling LED lights.

My stomach ached, I hadn’t eaten dinner and I was noticing it. Having a full stomach made the transition from bubbly blonde girl to bubbly blonde wolf a bit more bearable. I also wouldn’t feel the need to hunt and feed as much if I had something, anything on my stomach.

“I think the library said they were keeping apples at the main Barlow House,” I chuffed. My stomach gurgled and roared, demanding I fill it with something. I really wasn’t in the mood for a deer or rabbit, so I made my way towards the houses.

The houses were abandoned, two of them were in horrible condition, but the main house, while unkempt, was still usable to an extent. It had once been used as a museum but closed down suddenly and unexpectedly.

I saw the boxes of apples sitting on the porch and made a rush to them. Why they put them here, I’m not sure, but at least it’s something for me to fill my stomach with rather than deal with coughing up fur tomorrow.

I started eating apples, chomping down one after the other. I then hear a voice and every fiber of me goes still, even the wolf stops her twitching and listens. I turned this way and that, apple juice running down my fuzzy chin. I listen intently, but hear nothing aside from the rustling beyond the trees. I go back for another apple, but a rogue staple has other plans for me.

“Ow!” I wrenched back my hand, inspecting the long scrape down my arm. “Really?” I started to lick it when I heard that voice again. There was breathing in my ear and then the front door opened.

“No,” I said slowly. “No, no.” I took a cautious step back but then I heard voices and I could smell beer in the air. Coming down the path from the opposite direction I could hear rowdy voices, laughter, and the scent of drunk breath flooded my nose.

“C’mon!” I bemoaned my fate. I was doomed to either be seen by some drunk teenagers or I would have to go inside the creepy Barlow house. Neither sounded good. But a haunted house sounded less worrisome than drunk teens.

I went through the open door, an apple still in hand, and looked around the foyer. The scent of the place was not what I had expected. I half expected the scent that came from old books, a hint of mildew, dust, and dried skin. Instead, there was a faint hint of licorice and linseed oil. It reminded me a bit of art class in school.

Hanging on the wall across from the door was the painting of Ambrose Barlow, the youngest son of the Barlow family, and the architect of this house. He was tall and handsome, with a mop of uncontrollable dark hair. His eyes peered out, looking nowhere and everywhere at once. Rumor had it the painting couldn’t be removed or else it would be hanging in the library museum. Something kept it tethered supernaturally to the wall.

The sound of a droplet of water falling reached my ears, and I realized it came from me. On the ground were a few spatters of my blood.

“Oh shit.” I huffed. “Trespassing and bleeding?” I went to lick my arm again when the door closed behind me.

“Okay! No!” I yelped in surprise.

A soft laugh rippled through the house and even the wolf inside had to whimper. I looked this way and that.

“If this is a prank, good for you,” I muttered as loud as I could. “Now, let's get this over with.”

Lanterns on the wall flickered on, holding inside bright purple flames. The painting of Ambrose Barlow shifted and the frame bulged and bursted into purple fire.

I shook my head back and forth. “Nope.”

Ambrose’s eyes flickered, blinking to life as his mouth began to open. I was frozen stiff, a werewolf too afraid to move from where she was standing. You might find it funny, but I was far from amused at that moment. The house breathed and shuddered, stretching the wood and ripping some of the wallpaper. The painting continued to bulge and stretch and Ambrose himself came from within the painting.

Without a second thought I chucked the apple in my hand at Ambrose, shockingly connecting. He cussed loudly, falling down from the painting and toppling on the ground in a heap.

The moving and breathing of the house came to an end. The lanterns dimmed and the flames turned a usual fire color. The painting returned to normal with Ambrose poised like normal. But the body still laid at the foot of the frame, smashed apple scattered about.

“Quite an arm you’ve got there.” A voice said from the pile of body. It shifted, rising and squishing together. Bones popped and creaked as a man rose from the floor, standing in front of the Ambrose painting in the exacting same pose.

I reached behind me trying to jiggle the doorknob while keeping my eyes on them. His face was skeletal, dead but not dead, faint hues of purple flickered from their eyes and the inside of their mouth, where there was no cheek, just an open pocket.

“Now, now, don’t be afraid. We’re from the same cloth, are we not? Specters, shadows, those things that try to hide in-”

I continued to try and open the door. “I just wanted to escape teenagers. I’m sorry if I barged in on something.”

The strange Skeletor man sighed and the purple glow around him faded. “You’re the one who shed blood within my house.”

“What does that mean?” I turned around to face him, taking in his ghostly visage. “Do I have to clean it up?”

His eyes raised and fell upon me, taking me in the same way I took him in, only a touch creepier. “Certainly not. You’ve merely woken me up.”

“Oh-” I wasn’t sure what that meant or how to respond to it.

“I would like to meet who has saved me from that wretched sleep. All these years waiting. Who would have thought it would be a werewolf.” He smirked as he approached me, moving close and then opening the door with a wave of his hand. “I am Lord Ambrose Barlow. What is your name?” He tried to take my hand but I stepped away.

“Uhh-” I looked outside and back at him. “It’s Blair.”

He saw the cut on my arm as I held it against my chest and he glowed again. “Blair, sounds like the name of a witch.”

“My godmother actually,” I stepped back again, leaving the front door. “I have to get home. Sorry!” I sprinted, running on all fours and crashing through the woods. I ran past the drunk teens and bolted home. I would worry about my car later and pick it up in the morning.

The next day at work I was still bothered and bewildered by what I had seen last night. I was cleaning the glass to the door that was between the cafe and library. I saw someone walk between bookshelves, it was a library so I didn’t think anything of it. I then saw a trail of books following behind them, which raised my eyebrows. I stopped cleaning the glass, seeing a strange purple glow had enveloped the books.

“Blair, we’ve got a rush coming,” one of my coworkers called.

“Be right there.” I watched the books until they vanished and went back behind the counter. I started helping make orders as a line formed behind the counter. I poured coffee into a cup and it turned bright purple before me. I gasped as it bubbled over, splashing down my arm and along the counter, turning thick and gloopy like slime. I quickly picked it up and tossed it into the trash, pouring the rest of that coffee down the sink.

“Blair, what are you doing? We’ve got a line!”

“Grounds,” I lied as quickly as I could. I looked into the eyes of my bewildered coworkers and put on a smile. “It’s fine, the other pot is going and most of the orders right now are using the cold brew.”

“Let's hope it stays that way.”

I quickly got back to what I was doing, pouring cold cream, dishing out syrups, when I noticed the logo painted on the back wall had a new face, a Skeletor looking creep with purple eyes.

“No,” I whispered and looked away. I looked back at the logo, which had gone back to normal. “You’re freaked out. It’s okay.”

“Just a peppermint tea, please.” The voice sounded familiar so I looked up to see who it was. The strange man from last night was standing there and no one seemed to notice a Skeletor man glowing bright purple was standing amongst them. He looked at me and smiled.

“Oh, it’s you,” he tried to sound surprised, but I knew he wasn’t.

“Hi,” I replied as cheerily as I could. “What…what are you doing here?”

He paid for his order, then walked down the line to stand closer to where I was working. “You ran away from me last night.”

“Oooh,” two of my younger coworkers murmured behind me.

I gave them a look then turned back to Ambrose. “Not where I work! You’re embarrassing me!”

His brows raised slightly, and the wispy purple flame that made his hair shifted to a darker color. “Do you know who I am? Even what I am?”

“I need this job,” I said quickly. “And that matters more to me right now than figuring out who some ghosty-goo who scared the hell out of me last night is!” I tried to speak quietly so as not to bother the rest of the customers or alarm my coworkers.

He continued to stare with those weird unblinking eyes of his.

I finished off his peppermint tea and set it on the counter. “Please leave me alone.”

He sighed and took his drink. As he did, a coin fell from his fingertips and clattered surprisingly loudly against the counter top.

“For you,” he said. He swept away, leaving with no one even taking a second glance to him. I turned to one of my coworkers, grabbing them gently.

“Did you see that guy?” I asked.

“Yeah, so?”

“So? What did he look like to you?”

She seemed stumped by that question, holding her mouth open and then closing it. “I uh…that’s weird. I can’t remember.”

I looked back to the counter where the coin was sitting, shimmering strangely in the light. As I picked it up I noticed it was embossed with a strange symbol, but written finely around the edge was some lettering I could just barely make out. “The Barlows will Live by Blood, Die by Blood, and From Blood be Risen.”

“Yikes,” I hissed through clenched teeth, I pocketed the coin. Obviously it wasn’t a good thing to have, but Ambrose wasn’t going to leave me alone regardless, so it was best I kept it.

As I was leaving work that evening, I was heading to my car, feeling the wolf inside me wrestle around anxiously. On the breeze I smelled something faint, like paint and licorice. I turned, spotting glowing purple along one of the paths behind the library.

“He’s never going to leave me alone.” My guts churned, but I figured it was best to do this like a band-aid.

I trugged away from my car, heading towards the glowing lights which, unsurprisingly, led me onto the Barlow path.

I once again stood before the Barlow house. Only now it looked brand new, untouched by time and unravaged by the elements. The front door opened and from inside I heard voices, the sound of a party. Ambrose stepped out onto the porch.

“Did you bring your token for entry?”

I just frowned at him.

“Come now Blair.” He offered his hand to me. “Come inside.”

I shook my head. “Usually, I love a good chance to meet people. But you’re something undead or resurrected or demonic, so I’m not exactly trusting you.” I took the token out of my pocket and tossed it back to him. “If you want to talk to me, you’ll do it my way.”

Ambrose scowled, looking from the coin to me. “Are you serious?”

I wanted to cross my arms against my chest, but I kept them down to show I was serious. “Of course. A girl has to protect herself.”

The sounds of the party waned from inside, the lights in the windows dimmed as well. Ambrose walked down the steps to me, the coin still held in his hand. “What is your way?”

“Definitely not alone in the creepy woods or in the very haunted house.” I waved out my hand towards the house, which Ambrose clicked his tongue at.

“Not haunted, per se,” he muttered.

I shook my head. “In either case, no matter how big a werewolf I am on the outside, I’m still a frightened young woman on the inside who has heard enough true crime shit to know better.”

Ambrose let out a long sigh. “You still haven’t answered my question in full. Tell me your way, Ms. Blair.”

“Somewhere public. You can obviously hide how you look from people, so that shouldn’t be too hard.”

Ambrose made a face. “In public?”

I couldn’t help but agree with him. “I know people are crazy, trust me, I work in a coffee shop. But if you want to get to know me, it has to be somewhere like a restaurant or something.”

Ambrose flipped the coin between his fingers over and over again. With a wave of his hand it turned to purple fire and then smoke. “Courtship hasn’t changed much I see.”

Courtship? The word struck me but I didn’t have a moment to react to it.

“Fine then. Where would you like to go?” He asked.

I put on a smile. “I have the early shift tomorrow, so I’ll get off around lunch so we can meet up at the butcher shop.”

Ambrose’s face crinkled. “The butcher shop?”

I bounced on my tip toes. “It has a really good deli and bakery thing in there.”

He eyed me, giving a look then nodding. “Okay. Fine, if that’s what you wish.”

“I really like their sandwiches,” I giggled.

“I said fine!” Ambrose appeared a bit flustered. “I’ll meet you there tomorrow.” He stepped back up onto the porch, turning once to look back at me. There was a look upon his face, one that made my heart do a little skip. Even for a Skeletor man, he wasn’t half bad, I suppose. Once he turned and walked back inside, I went back down the path to get back to the library.

As I got to my car I reached into my pocket for my keys. I found the old coin there as well. I just chuckled and placed it in my bag.

I was a bit excited the next day, even during the early shift I noticed a bit of pep to my step as I worked. Despite the strange and terrifying way I came across Ambrose, I was curious about him just as much as he was with me. Don’t know why he was so fascinated, I just bled in his house a little, but I guess that was all part of the charm.

Once work was done I got changed in the back. I gave my appearance a quick once over then left, driving further downtown to where the butcher shop was. As I parked out front, I saw Ambrose’s reflection in the big glass window. He moved towards the door as I got out of my car, opening the front door as I walked towards it.

I stepped inside and saw him waiting at a small table. The door closed gently behind me as I waved to him.

He stood, pulling out my chair for me as I came close. “Long time no see!” I said.

He looked perplexed by my words, but nodded. “I suppose.” Once my chair was tucked in he took his seat again. He folded his long hands together on the tabletop, and I could see a few beautiful rings decorating the strangely proportioned fingers.

“So, no one can see you like I see you?” I whispered. I was a bit giddy because it felt like a secret, and I loved secrets!

Ambrose tilted his head to the side. “Yes and no. They see me but they do not at the same time.”

My eyes widened. “So, you don’t look like anything to them?”

Ambrose got a bit of a smile upon his lips. “They don’t realize what I look like. They will either forget me or concoct some sort of appearance within their imagination.”

I nodded, somewhat understanding, but really I wasn’t getting all of it. “Am I seeing you then? Or did my childhood watching He-Man affect me more than I want to admit?”

Ambrose’s brow pinched. “Whose He-Man?”

“Oh! Gosh, where do I start-” I stopped as the waiter came to our table side, so my train of thought was cut off.

“I don’t want to know about whoever this fellow is you’re talking about,” Ambrose murmured as the waiter walked away.

I looked up over my menu with a surprise gaze.

“I am here because I want to know you,” Ambrose’s voice went dark and intense. It made the hairs on the back of my neck raise and a slight tingle appear below.

“Oh. Right.” I set down my menu, I already knew what I wanted. “Well, what do you want to know about me? Not many people are too curious about people who bleed in their house.” I thought I made a joke, but thinking on it, I guess everyone would be curious about that.

“You brought life back to me. I made a bet with my sister ages ago, and I finally won.” Ambrose said with a triumphant glint.

“What sort of bet?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about that,” Ambrose brushed it off. “What matters is that you are the one who revived me. And in a sense, saved my life.”

I gasped softly and leaned back into my chair, stiffening my back. “That makes more sense then.” I thought for a moment, pressing my lips together. “Is it a good or bad thing? Because you look like a villain, but I don’t want to base things off appearances. Too judgy-”

Ambrose reached across the table. “I want to return the favor to you Blair. I want to show you how much I appreciate your gift.”

I chuckled nervously, his hands felt cool and soft against my own skin. His touch was surprisingly nice. “Oh, no, I don’t do nice things for rewards!” I laughed.

The room grew dim, the people around us began to fade away into nothing. Glowing purple flames lit around us, and dare I say, it was almost romantic.

“With my powers I can give you anything you desire. I can show you the depths of pleasure you’ve never touched before.” His hands squeezed around mine. “I would do anything to show you how much joy is alive within me!”

I looked around, trying to spot the restaurant scene around us. I could still smell the customers, the meat, but everything was just hidden. “Oh, I don’t need much.” I looked back at Ambrose. “And I would have to get to know you better for the pleasure part.”

The world snapped back and Ambrose sighed, letting go of my hands, which I slightly regretted. “You’re serious?”

I shrugged. “As long as I haven’t unleashed some horrible monster on the world, I’m okay with just getting to know you.” I thought for a second. “I need money but I would feel bad asking for it.”

“I can give it.”

My mouth screwed up into a purse then I laughed. “Maybe later, I’d still feel bad asking for money from a stranger.”

A smile crossed Ambrose’s face again. “I’d always heard tales that werewolves were feral, greedy creatures. I never expected one to be quite so…puppy like.”

I nodded. “I get that. Not all werewolves are the spooky scary kind. A lot of them are pretty good people.”

Ambrose placed a hand back upon the table, moving it out towards me. “You’ve not released a monster, by the way. You have my word. I am merely a menace.”

It was a relief to hear, and I slowly moved my hand out, placing it in Ambrose’s. “I don’t mind a menace.” I said and his long fingers clasped around my hand. “You’ll make things fun, I’m sure.”

To my surprise, I had a good time with Ambrose. After a few more dates, I kissed him just outside the Barlow house. It was cold and his lips felt strange, but I had been wanting to do it for a while now it didn’t matter. I couldn’t place his taste, it wasn’t bad, just something unfamiliar to me.

The week of Halloween was always busy. And the Barlow path, along with the house, were more popular than ever. Even during the evening when I couldn't walk them alone, more people were taking strolls just to capture that Halloween feeling.

I peered from Ambrose’s window one evening, watching people walk up and down the path. They would stop and point to the house, unaware a specter and werewolf were watching them.

“You’re stuck here for the night it seems,” Ambrose said to me. “Not to worry. I’ll fix a bed for you.”

I stepped away from the window. “You don’t mind?”

“It’s you, so I am quite excited.” Ambrose kissed me, smoothing his fingers through my fur. I had shifted to show Ambrose once, and he said he adored my werewolf visage just as much as my human one. I felt comfortable to share it with him, and it felt good to let the wolf out once in a while.

“Do you sleep?” I asked.

Ambrose chuckled. “Not what you would consider rest. I can close my eyes and mimic it, but really, I have gone past the point of needing it.” He took my hand, leading me into a room with a large bed. There were clothes hanging in a wardrobe, and candles lit with purple flames all around the room.

I sat down upon the edge of the bed, stretching my legs out a bit in a pose. “You mentioned something about depths of pleasure before,” I giggled. “Does that still stand?”

Ambrose’s brow raised as he looked at me. “My darling Blair. For you, I shall always rise to the occasion.”

I laughed giddly, holding my arms open as Ambrose came to me. He kissed me, gently at first. I then felt his teeth, so I gave him mine. I felt his tongue, the purple flames. His hands caressed down my body and then I was upon my back. Those long, strange fingers of his did not feel so odd upon me. Below they worked magic, in a way I cannot describe other than orgasmic. He tickled and aroused me, using those long digits to reach places inside me that made me cry out and howl.

“They’ll hear you outside love,” he whispered to me. “But tis the season, I suppose.”

I whimpered, still trembling from his touch alone. I looked up at Ambrose, seeing his wild hair caught in his face, his long form stretched out over top of me. I reached up, smoothing his hair away from his face. I kissed him, pulling him down to me. In to me. I lost my breath as he filled me.

“It’s been some hundred years since I’ve done this,” he whispered. “But I promise my stamina is stronger than it ever was.” He pulsed inside me. “I must admit, I am equal parts excited and nervous.” He ran his hands down my body. “I’ve never made love to a werewolf before. Let alone one so beautiful.”

I smiled for him, eyes fluttering as he drove himself into me. His touch made me sensitive, I may not last long. But I wanted him so badly. I would howl all night, frightening people on Barlow Path. Rumors would grow about Barlow House anew. Now, they spoke of the Barlow Monster or Barlow Werewolf. When I hear the stories, I just smile.

[momolady]

Ozzie the Werewolf & Tryfon the Naiad

Let's go back to Hearthway Hollow. The ranger's station there is an interesting place, and we've been there before briefly. But now, we get to see some of the inner workings, especially when there is some construction outside. Trans Male Reader x Male Monster x Male Monster

The sound of rain filtered in through your sleep addled brain. You faded back into reality as rain hissed on the tin roof of your cabin. Sitting up in bed, you rubbed your eyes, squinting to see the steel gray that colored the world outside. You sighed, reaching for your glasses and then stretching. Joints popped, back snapped and you sighed in rumination on all those sounds coming from your body alone.

You then looked to the other side of the bed, seeing the obvious signs someone had slept there, but were no longer present. But the light to the bathroom was on, so that meant he was still here.

You got up from bed, tugging on a pair of old basketball shorts as you made your way into the kitchen. The rental cabin was small, barely three rooms if you included the bathroom. But for work, it was fine. You turned on the coffee pot to get started, yawning as you poured water into the back.

Strong, hairy arms slipped around you from the back, hugging your belly as the rest of the body came to rest upon your back. “You’re up early.”

You relaxed as his embrace melted you together. “I figured even with all the rain we’d still have some sort of work meeting.”

Ozzie’s warm hands rubbed up your stomach to your chest. You turned your head back, kissing him while you turned completely around.

“I’m glad for the rain, it’s keeping you around a lot longer,” Ozzie murmured.

“The crew gets paid one way or another,” you sighed. “This is a government job after all. We won’t leave until the facilities are built.”

Ozzie kissed you again, nuzzling your neck. “Never thought I’d meet a cute guy at work.”

You were trying to keep your head above the warm waters Ozzie was pulling you under. “That’s because you work with your family.”

Ozzie laughed, kissing your cheek again. “Only most of them are family.” He let you escape, stepping aside to look into the tiny fridge. “Maybe I should order something for breakfast.”

“I’m sure there’s donuts or something at work I can get,” you said.

Ozzie smirked, his dark five-o’clock shadow was particularly sexy that morning. He brushed back his hair from his face. “Now, I don’t know about you city types, but I like to buy breakfast for my partner when I cum in them.”

Your face turned bright red and you cleared your throat, adjusting your glasses as you thought they would steam up. “Ozzie, c’mon now.”

He chuckled and pulled out the two mugs from the sink. “Last night was good. Better than it has been.”

A rush swept through your chest as you recalled the night before. “You're my first since-” You touched the scars on your chest, running under each pec. “Well, I told you that whole story. But, yeah, last night was…whew.” You breathed out heavily and both of you laughed.

Ozzie kissed your shoulder before pouring coffee into the cups. “I wonder what your other admirer would have thought.”

“The fishing warden?” You asked. “No. Tryfon’s annoyed I fell into his precious river. He’s more likely to kill me than kiss me.”

Ozzie grinned into his coffee as he stirred in the copious amounts of sugar. “Knowing Try-Hard I don’t think he’s quite that annoyed.”

“Don’t call him that, he just really likes his job,” you scoffed.

“Most of us at the Ranger’s station enjoy our jobs. He’s something else.” Ozzie watched as you added creamer, his eyes grazing down your body. He reached out and you looked back at him warningly.

“I still have to sign into work. You keep this up, you’ll make me late,” you scolded.

“I can’t help it. After last night I just want to be all over you.” He kissed your shoulder again and forced himself back. “But I am a gentleman. I’ll behave myself. I’ll ignore my animal instincts.”

“Animal,” you scoffed.

Ozzie winked. “You were enjoying it last night.”

You frowned a bit, but the memory of seeing Ozzie standing outside, bathed in radiant moonlight, his fur as dark as the shadows themselves, you were deeply impressed.

“I’m trying to get into work mode.”

Ozzie chuckled as he sat down at the tiny table by the window. “Another rainy day. I’m getting so sick of the office work.”

You sat down across from him. “You said you were behind on paperwork.”

Ozzie grimaced. “Yeah, but it’s paperwork. I should be out on the trails in my little cart. Doing my actual job.”

“Paperwork is part of the actual job.”

Ozzie squinted at you. “You’re a carpenter, what do you know about being a game warden?”

You smirked, ready to strike. “Not much, but I do know government positions like that all have paperwork.”

“You’re talking yourself out of breakfast,” Ozzie said teasingly.

You looked down into your coffee, feigning a pout. “If it gets you to do your paperwork faster I don’t mind.”

Ozzie threw his head back laughing, to which you couldn’t hold back yours anymore either. Your relationship with Ozzie was new, but you’d not felt so comfortable with someone in so long, it was nice.

After getting a quick drive through breakfast, Ozzie dropped you off at the construction trailer. A few people were already inside, waiting around for the boss to show up. You went ahead and clocked in, putting on your work helmet which your boss expected to be on at all times.

“You left your car here last night,” another coworker said to you.

“Uh, yeah, I went and hung out with Ozzie for a bit.” You tried to play it cool, but you could already clock their teasing gaze.

“Your windows were rolled down, that’s the only reason I said anything.”

“Oh shit!” You rushed outside. The parking lot was up a steep hill, just beside the actual construction zone. There was lots of upturned earth everywhere, and the whole area had been stained red from the clay. The hems of your jeans would never be the same again. You made it to your car, a bit breathless from the soggy hike. Sure enough, your windows were down.

You muttered in disappointment under your breath. “I knew I forgot something.” You checked how much water had gotten in then rolled up the windows. “It’s going to smell like hot ass now.” You took out your phone to message Ozzie about the predicament when a sound perked your ears.

It was faint, distant from the sounds of it, but it sent tingles down your spine, turning your skin to goosebumps. You turned towards the edge of the parking lot, over towards the stacks of covered timber. It sounded like singing, or maybe even windchimes, you weren’t sure. You walked towards the stacks of timber, hearing the melodic sound grow the closer you got. Stepping out the timber, the sound of rushing water mingled with the sound. You looked down towards the river, realizing it was someone singing below. You came as close to the edge of the hill as you could, trying to see down below. The water was extremely high in the river, unsurprising considering the amount of rain. You saw something standing in the waves, maybe sitting on a rock, and they were singing over the rushing water.

You were trying to get a better look when your foot slipped. You tried grabbing onto a tree but everything was slick from the rain. You went careening down the hill like a slip and slide. The mud made it impossible to grab hold of anything, the rain had everything so wet and so loose you were basically greased.

You hit the water, feeling the current grabbing you. It felt like fingers pulling on your arms and legs, forcing you down the river, pulling you deeper. Then, you did feel hands, real hands that clasped around your shoulders, pulling you up and out of the river. Your vision was blurry, glasses just gone, and your mind was going at a manic pace.

“Hold on to me! Put your arms around me!” A voice commanded you.

You did as told, holding on tight as they swam from rock to rock in the river, going down stream, but also able to move through the strong current like it was nothing. Eventually they came upon an embankment, laying you up on shore.

“Hold still,” they commanded again. Gentle hands touched your face, inspecting your jaw and turning your head side to side. They leaned over you, blocking your vision and becoming a dark blob before you.

“Take a deep breath for me,” they said.

You did so.

“How you keep falling into my rivers I’ll never know. Most people have more common sense than that.”

“Tryfon?” You wheezed.

“Shh,” he hissed at you. “Lie still now.” He laid his palm in the center of your chest. His touch felt cool like the river itself. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. He breathed into you, but it was like something flowing throughout your body. A cool, sparkling river breathed into your lungs then traveled through tiny streams to the rest of your body.

Tryfon raised back up, smoothing your wet hair from your face. “I’ll fuss at you later,” he said as you sank, going deeper and deeper into your own waters.

You woke with a nagging pain in your rear. Above you was a ceiling fan that looked like it could come down at any moment the way it was wobbling. You reached for your glasses, but there was nothing but air on either side of you.

The room around you looked like a storage closet for an office. Large white boxes with various labels, reams of paper, toilet paper, manila folders, and highlighters. As you were sitting up off the cot you realized you were naked as the blanket fell away.

The door before you opened and Tryfon stepped in.

You scrambled, trying to get the blanket back over you, but the pain in your butt turned from nagging to full on stabbing.

“Easy there, river tripper.” Tryfon came in and grabbed the blanket for you. “You’ve got a bruised tailbone to contend with.”

“What happened?”

“You tripped into a river again,” Tryfon snipped at you. He then handed you your clothes which were clean and freshly warm from a dryer. Laying on top were your glasses.

“Where’d you get this.”

“It’s bad enough all this rain is messing up my research, but then you come traipsing along like some cartoon behemoth and throw your gruby germs into my waters.” Tryfon sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Behemoth?” You slipped on your shirt, finding that sitting was becoming unbearable.

Tryfon rolled his eyes. “Calling me short?”

“No, you said-” You stopped. “Thank you for saving me, Tryfon.”

He shrugged. “No problem. Just don’t make it a habit.” He left the room to let you finish getting dressed. When you stepped out of the closet, you saw tryfon taking food out of a bag.

“How long was I out?” You asked.

“A couple of hours.” Tryfon handed you a wrapped sandwich. “I don’t know what you like. But your generation likes avocados on everything, right?”

You had to smirk. “I guess, but you didn’t have to.”

Tryfon sat at his desk, surrounded by all his medals, accreditations, recommendations, on and on with honors upon honors spread out on the wall behind him. The front of his desk was plastered with children’s artwork, given to him over the years by kids who had come to Tryfon for their first fishing license.

“I gave that Oswald a call,” he huffed. “Let him know what had happened. He was all the way in Asheville though.”

You weren’t used to hearing Ozzie being called by his real name. “Was I dying?”

“Thanks to me, no.” Tryfon watched as you took your first bite of the sandwich. His golden eyes lingered upon you before turning his head away.

“I owe you,” you said between bites.

“Just stop falling into my rivers.'' Tryfon had a slight blush to his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he turned to look at you. “That’s all I suggest. Once you’re done eating I’ll drive you to your place. You need to lie down for a while and take some ibuprofen for that bruised tailbone.”

“Should I go to the doctor?” You asked.

“Just some rest should get it covered.” Tryfon said, pulling out a drawer to fetch his keys. “You might just be uncomfy for a few days, that’s all.”

“Do you deal with a lot of broken butts?”

He just stared at you, dead panned and blank. You just smiled awkwardly back. “Don’t ever say that sentence to me again. Finish eating so I can get you out of my office.”

You continued eating, not thinking much about your little accident. It wasn’t until you were in Tryfon’s truck you recalled why you were so close to the hill over the river in the first place. That sound of someone singing, their voice was clear and beautiful, it sounded like wind chimes on a gentle breeze. There had been someone in the water, that’s how you fell, you were trying to over extend to see who it was. And then when you did fall Tryfon was there immediately to save you. In the river.

You glanced at Tryfon, then back out the window. “Were you already there in the river when I fell?”

“Hm?” Tryfon murmured, acting as if he couldn’t hear you.

“How else could you have gotten to me so fast?” You turned, looking directly at him.

His cheeks took on a deeper shade of red, and his lips pressed into a firm line. “It’s my job.”

“But…” You stopped and leaned back in your seat, trying to find a way to sit more comfortably. “I could have sworn I heard singing before I fell.”

Tryfon seemed to bristle at this. “Singing? What?”

“Yeah. Singing. I had gone to my car to roll up the windows, and I heard it. I wasn’t sure what it was, I just remember it being really pretty,” you said thoughtfully.

He swallowed and clutched the steering wheel tighter. “You think so? I mean, uhm, maybe you hit your head.”

“Do you sing, Tryfon?”

His cheeks darkened in color and when he glanced at you it seemed his usually bright green eyes had darkened, turning almost black around the edges. “You know, it sounds like you’d never make it as a sailor. Hearing beautiful singing and then falling to your death, you’d never survive a siren.”

You just smiled at him. “Probably not.”

Tryfon sniffed. “It makes sense you’d fall for Oswald’s charms then.”

You furrowed your brow. “What does that mean? Is Ozzie a siren?”

“No, he wishes he was-” Tryfon cleared his throat. “No. Just saying, he may appear to be this good looking good guy-bad boy combo, but he’s been known to share tents with more than just campers if you know what I am saying.”

“I know.” You said this and it appeared Tryfon’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. “He told me he’s something of a hussy, especially when he was younger. I’m okay with that, stuff like that doesn’t bother me. And I mean, he’s good at it so-” You stopped yourself. “He said when he first became a ranger you two hooked up too.”

Tryfon glared out the window. “He was… I would...you know, it’s none of your business what my business is!”

“Hey I’m not judging. I obviously fell for Ozzie’s siren call.”

Tryfon growled under his breath, his face redder than before. “Obviously! Like I said. You wouldn’t make it a day with sirens or venus flytraps around! You’d fall right in.”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “Probably. But I don’t think Ozzie is either one of those things. I think he’s just horny.”

Tryfon scoffed and muttered something under his breath.

You directed him to the line of tiny cabins where you were staying, helping him find yours which was practically in the back where the road went from paved to dirt. To your surprise, Tryfon helped you out of his truck and into the cabin. His eyes darted around your place, looking for something.

“Do you have a way to make an ice pack?” He asked.

Your mouth hung open as you thought. “Maybe in the first aid kit. There might be those cooler packs in the freezer too.”

Tryfon shooed you away. “Why don’t you go lay down. I’ll get something figured out.”

There was a leap in your chest. “Oh? I thought I just needed rest. When did you turn into a little nurse?” You teased.

He pouted, giving you a harsh look. “Just trying to help.”

You smiled. “Okay, I’ll go lay down.” You went into the bedroom, taking off your pants and laying on your stomach. Your bed still smelled like Ozzie, and when you buried your face into the pillow, all you smelled was him.

A few moments later, something frigid landed on your ass and you yowled. Turning, you saw Tryfon sitting beside you. He had his ranger hat off and you could see his long, blonde hair was down, taken from the clip and hanging in a ponytail over his shoulder.

“It’s only ice, calm down you baby.” Tryon scoffed.

“You scared me, I wasn’t expecting it.” You nestled back down. “I didn’t realize your hair was so long.”

His pout returned. “Well, it is.”

“It’s nice.”

He fought back a smile. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be okay if you want to get back to work. I’ll keep the ice pack on as long as I can stand,” you try to sound reassuring.

“I said I’d take care of you.”

“You did?”

A glare was shot your way. “Least I can do.”

You smiled, hugging onto that pillow. “Are you a werewolf too?” You decided to ask, shoot your shot, or at least let Tryfon know you were cool with whatever paranormal creatures existed in Hearthway Hollow.

“Ew! No! I mean-” Tryfon cut himself off and cupped his hand over his mouth. “I mean, werewolf? What werewolves-” he stopped and sighed. “Ozzie never could stand not showing off.”

“I’m fine with it. I have an uncle with this antique store that…it’s a lot to explain. But I worked there before I wanted to do construction. I’ve seen some things.”

“You wanted to work construction?” Tryfon asked.

“Yeah. Why? Not a manual labor type?” you chuckled.

Tryfon shrugged. “Guess not.” he was quiet for a spell, shifting the ice pack on your bum around. “How are you feeling?”

“Cold.”

Tryfon’s hand slipped down to your thigh but he quickly recoiled. “Sorry. Not much I can do for the cold now.”

“It’s alright.”

Tryfon sighed. “So, you and Ozzie.”

“Yeah. Me and him.”

Tryfon cleared his throat. “How is that going?”

“It’s pretty great. I’ve not dated much in the last few years, but Ozzie has made it feel easy. I really like him.”

“Is it…serious?”

“I’d like to think so.” You glanced back at Tryfon and propped yourself up on your elbows. “You don’t have feelings for him do you? I’m sorry I-”

“No,” Tryfon scoffed. “Not him! He was a good lay but-” He huffed and swallowed. “It’s not him I technically like like that.” He looked away, pushing his hair back and to the other shoulder.

“Wait a second-” you muttered under your breath. “Is it me?”

Tryon looked at you then away. “You’re with Ozzie, it doesn’t matter.”

“But it does!” You went to turn around but it hurt so you flopped back down onto the bed. “Ozzie and I agreed to have fun and not make this serious or anything until I know what I’m doing when the job is done. I mean-” Your cheeks felt on fire. “Ozzie said you had a crush on me, I just didn’t believe him.”

“Twerp,” Tryfon grumbled under his breath.

You rolled onto your side. “Ozzie said he wouldn’t do this courting ritual until I decide if I am staying. Even then I don’t think he minds the poly thing.”

Tryfon arched a brow. “Polly? Whose she?”

You laughed. “No! Poly, as in polyamorous.”

His eyes widened and mouth fell open. “Oh!” He then looked away. “Still. I’m embarrassed now.”

You laid back down and smiled. “Okay, that’s fine. Was just thinking I’d offer something in return of you saving my life.”

There was a long moment of silence before Tryfon spoke again. “Like what?”

“Maybe a kiss,” you murmured.

“Y-you don’t have to.”

You sat up, butt cold and sore, but better than before. You leaned towards Tryfon, placing your hand on his cheek then pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. He turned away then back, meeting your lips for another kiss.

“Well, well, well, what’s this?”

Tryfon snapped around as Ozzie leaned on the doorframe. “How long have you been there?” He snapped.

“Only just now,” Ozzie chuckled. “I thought you said he was hurt.”

“He is!” Tryfon jumped up and shoved the ice pack into Ozzie’s hands. “He fell into the river. You need to make sure he’s not so clumsy!”

Ozzie smirked, blocking tryfon from leaving. “Come on, stay a bit, Try Hard. I brought some good food back from Asheville, and some good wine.”

Tryfon glared up at him. “Don’t call me that.”

Ozzie licked his lips. “I’m afraid we only have those little red cups, no wine glasses. I know you’re a stickler.”

Tryfon’s frown turned into a pout. “If the wine is good, I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Ozzie chuckled as he walked into the room, sitting down beside you and handing you a massive bottle of ibuprofen. “Having a busy day I see.”

“You could call it that.” You were surprised when Ozzie kissed you. It wasn’t that he was rubbing it in to Tryfon, it was more like he was wanting in.

Ozzie found a way to set up dinner in the bedroom. You made a throne out of pillows in order to eat. Tryfon stayed, eating and drinking in silence for a bit. Once he had some wine in him, he loosened up a bit. He and Ozzie had a charged conversation that verged between flirting and antagonistic.

You fell asleep sometime during the night, waking up with the desperate need to pee. You didn’t realize someone was in the bathroom until you stepped in and saw Tryfon was in the shower. He was singing, and you were sure it was the same song you heard at the river.

Tryfon stopped, and his silhouette in the shower curtain turned. “It’s polite to knock.”

“Sorry,” you gasped. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

Tryfon scoffed. “Doesn’t matter, do your business.”

You felt embarrassed to use the bathroom then, but you were desperate. You sat down on the toilet, peeing in awkward intervals. Tryfon started singing again, his voice was melodic and bright, but you couldn’t understand the language he was singing it. It sounded old, older than language should be.

Once you were done, you were washing your hands when Tryfon opened the curtain. His long hair hung around his body, which was pale blue in color, darkening to almost black on his hands and feet. His features were sharper, eyes wider and large, going from green to black and surruned by small, dark scales. He held his hand out to you, fingers ending in sharp, long nails, and webbed inbetween.

“Wow,” you whispered.

“Come join me. Small shower, but we can make it work.” He smoothed his hair back, watching as you undressed. A smile appeared on his face as you stepped in near him and he closed the curtain around you.

“How are you feeling?” His hand grazed down your side.

Your skin tingled where he touched. “Much better.”

Tryfon’s hand grabbed your rear gently. “How does this feel?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

His hand smoothed down your thigh and then up, aiming towards the inside. “How about this?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you breathed.

Tryfon came in closer, pressing his front against your back. His fingers brushed against you below, touching your mound then rubbing softly. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Your lashes fluttered closed then, moaning softly as Tryfon’s touch warmed you along with the water flowing down you.

“Sorry if I seem different. The wine got to me.” Tryfon’s fingers opened you slightly, easing between where his fingertips rubbed against the bud inside. “I needed some water, but I also planned on taking care of myself.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Spikes of pleasure began shooting through you.

“It’s alright. You can help me.” Tryfon bit your shoulder. “Maybe with this.” He pushed his hips forward and something hard rubbed against your leg.

You were stunned. Ozzie had a good size, but Tryfon had one up on him. “Is that-”

Tryfon chuckled. “What?”

You turned around, glancing down at Tryfon’s cock. It was blue-black at the tip, fading down into a sort of pale lavender. The gland at the tip was flared out with little knobs around the side. The shaft itself bulged at the bottom, with ridges all the way down. The back had small bumps that had veins on either side.

“You’re huge.” You took him into your hand, barely able to grasp your fingers around him. You stroked slowly at first, taking in the weight and feel of him.

Tryfon’s moan was sweet and his eyes lowered as you touched. “Do you like it?”

The tip opened and closed as you touched, letting out a slick, viscous fluid that had a pearl like sheen to it.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

Tryfon leaned in, kissing you and moaning against your lips. He then eased back, an apologetic gaze on his face. “Is this too fast?”

“Maybe. But I’m having fun.” You kissed Tryfon again, slowly pulling him away from the shower. You stood in the bathroom, kissing, touching, embracing. His cock rubbed against your thigh, glazing it in that pearly liquid.

“Maybe we should stop here.” Tryfon tried to collect himself. “Unless we want to wake Ozzie.”

“We could. He wouldn’t mind,” you giggled.

Tryfon looked you up and down. “I didn’t think you’d be so much trouble from the looks of you.”

You shrugged. “I think it’s this town that’s brought something out in me.” You opened up the door, walking into the bedroom to see Ozzie has shifted and is laying posed like naked Burt Reynolds upon the bed.

“What a whore thing to do,” Tryfon scoffed.

Ozzie waggled his finger. “I don’t see anyone complaining.

You knelt down onto the bed, kissing Ozzie as Tryfon watched. You took Ozzie’s cock into your hand, stroking it and feeling his pulse against your palm. Tryfon came up behind you, stroking your rear then slowly moving his cock between your thighs.

“Easy now, Try Hard, not many can take your triton.”

“Triton? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tryfon huffed.

Ozzie chuckled. “He can take a lot, but do take care. If we’re both going to share him, we need to pamper him.” He reached between your legs, touching you and guiding Tryfon in. You braced yourself, taking in a deep breath as Tryfon began to slip inside.

“Since when do you pamper, Oswald?” Tryfon grunted as he pushed deep inside. The shimmering fluid from his tip came out in a burst and dribble out onto the floor.

“Fuck,” Ozzie growled. He sat so you could brace against him, but also watch as Tryfon began to move inside you. He rubbed his hands down your back and up again, moaning and grunted as Tryfon moved. His hand slipped underneath, rubbing that sensitive bud at the top of your folds. You shivered, crying out as the sensation became too much. Tryfon was so big and textured, it was all you could do to remain upright.

Tryfon pulled out and Ozzie laid you upon the bed, taking his turn inside. Tryfon knelt down upon the bed, watching Ozzie’s cock slip inside until the knot hit against you. More of the pearly fluid squished around the knot, and Ozzie moaned in pleasure.

“Taste yourself.” Tryfon moaned, laying the tip of his cock upon your lips.

You did so, feeling greedy as Ozzie began to move. His thrusts made your head bob, so your tongue lapped up and down Tryfon’s cock. He pressed against your lips and you took him inside, suckling him while Ozzie went deeper inside.

“Fuck, he’s never felt like this before,” Ozzie growled.

Tryfon chuckled. “Aroused?”

Ozzie snapped his teeth at Tryfon. “More than that, Try Hard.” He licked his chops. “It’s more than being turned on. It’s like his body is demanding it.”

Tryfon slipped over to Ozzie, kissing him in a teasing way. “Then we should give him all he wants.”

“Of course we are.” Ozzie licked Tryfon’s lips. “I like sharing.”

Tryfon leaned down, licking you and Ozzie while he was inside. Your head was swimming, it was all so much. Ozzie had been your first since your top surgery, you didn’t think this would happen so soon, let alone at all in your life.

They both took their time with you, playing and enjoying themselves, watching as you became unraveled and desperate for them. They kissed and kicked, nibbling upon you like candy until you could take no more. They would leave you to cool for a moment, only to plunge back in at the right moment to send shockwaves through your body.

At one point you were held between them, both of them inside you somehow. You would figure out the logistics later, but at the moment you were too high in heaven to worry about it. They felt warm and thick, filling you to the brim. Their heat radiated through you, boiling your brain so you could only think about how good it all felt.

You came with the morning, all of you breathing hard and exhausted. You woke to your phone going off, not realizing the time at all until then.

“Oh shit, it's work!” You tried to get out of bed, but you were tangled between Tryfon and Ozzie. Your legs felt weak once you touched the floor and you went into the kitchen to talk to your boss. Luckily it was raining, but your boss was concerned when you didn’t at least clock in.

“I heard you got hurt yesterday, I got scared for a second,” he said.

“No, I’m fine. I just over slept because of the pain meds I took,” you lied, hoping you did it well. You glanced back into the bedroom, seeing Tryfon and Ozzie begin to stir. You got the coffee maker ready then leaned up against the counter.

“This rain is doing a number on us. I’ve offered to let some of the guys go home for a bit or even take indoor jobs while we’re here. I figured I’d let you know if you have any plans.”

You saw Tryfon’s eyes open and look towards yours. He smiled then closed his eyes again.

“I was thinking about signing up to the school here,” you said. “Maybe even stay in Hearthway Hollow for a bit.”

“Not a bad plan,” your boss said. “Couple of the guys have said that.”

“Not surprised.” You smiled to yourself. “It’s a cool place.”

You talked a bit more then filled three coffee mugs. As you were getting the sugar ozzie came up behind you, kissing the back of your neck.

“Going to school, huh? You could be here a while.”

“I like that thought.” You watched as Tryfon took one of the mugs from you.

“What about your dream of working construction?” Tryfon drank his coffee black. He looked at Ozzie who was putting spoonful after spoonful into his mug.

“I’m sure there’s somewhere where I could work. Like that huge lumber yard with that old mill. Places like that always have listings posted. Could find a crew or do repairs while I take classes.”

Tryfon nodded. “There’s good doctors around here too. My friend Ivan and his wife take part in a trans support group. I could find out about it for you.”

Your eyes widened. “That would be awesome.”

Ozzie smirked, leaning back against the counter once he had his sugar. “I have a spare room, by the way.”

“So do I,” Tryfon tossed in.

“Boys, boys, no need to fight over me,” you laughed. “I think we proved last night we don’t need to.” You smirked over your coffee mug. “I’ve got time to figure all this stuff out anyways.”

Tryfon blushed. “Well, I guess you know Ozzie better.”

“Yeah, and your place is bigger,” Ozzie pouted.

“Options, that’s good,” you chuckled. You raised your coffee mug. “To something new.” You clanked your mug with Ozzie and Tryfon’s, toasting to what Hearthway Hollow had in store.

[porterr-robinson]

[sandersstudies]

This is so

Unnecessary

[myrrhguy-deactivated20250626]

how do you explain to someone that this is your sense of humour

[celtic-pyro-deactivated20230725]

“What could the audio possibly be?”

*unmutes*

“Oh,”

[moonblossom]

If I ever don’t laugh at this, assume I died.

[identifying-cars-in-posts]

2014-2018 Mazda 3

[abz-j-harding]

thank you , identifying-cars-in-posts blog

[evilwriter37]

Saying “this niche, properly tagged, warned, and rated piece of fiction could theoretically hurt someone” is not a good argument. This properly labeled cookie with the allergen information at the bottom that contains gluten could theoretically harm me very badly, but only if I consume it. Tags are like nutrition labels, and warnings are like allergy information. If you know you have an allergy to something, the logic is to stay away from it. It is the same with fiction. I’m not running through stores yelling at people to take all the products with gluten off the shelves just because it could hurt me. Instead I ignore it and go to the gluten free section and find cookies that are right for me. And if running through a grocery store yelling sounds ridiculous, that’s because it is. Stop doing the same with fiction.

[kokichis-dead-dove-club]

this is the best way i’ve seen this put!!

[lynati]

And just like with food, what might be harmful for one person to consume could be quite *beneficial* for others. One man’s trigger is another man’s catharsis.

[randomslasher]

AND if you lack the maturity/self control/awareness to stop yourself from eating things that could potentially harm you, you either 1) are too young to be making your own food choices and should be supervised by a parent/other adult who is supposed to be responsible for you (and the store clerk who put the food on the shelf is NOT) or 2) need to take accountability for your own actions, because if you deliberately consumed something you knew could hurt you as a fully autonomous adult, then you really have no one to blame but yourself.

[evilwriter37]

^^^^^^^^^^

[funnytwittertweets]

[shanastoryteller]

ShanaStoryteller’s Retold Fairytales Masterpost

To be updated as new stories are added. Last updated on: 2/1/2020

Prince Aladdin A retelling of Aladdin. Jasmine becomes a powerful sorceress, and Aladdin becomes a true prince in a land far from Agrabah.

Cinderella: Redo A retelling of Cinderella. The stepsisters and Cinderella band together to survive their mother’s abusive treatment.

General Li Mulan A retelling of Mulan. Instead of going to war to save her father, Mulan is raised by her mother and grandmother and goes to war to secure a marriage with her wealthy classmate, Ping. Then she meets Shang.

he’s the beauty; she’s the beast A retelling of The Beauty and the Beast. The witch wants to take control of the kingdom, but young Prince Adam won’t let her. So she curses him to be a beast on the inside, and with the ability to see people as they truly are. When arrogant, selfish Belle shows up at his door, he finds her hideous.

what’s a fire and how does it - what’s the word? - burn A retelling of The Little Mermaid. Ariel discovers she has her own magical powers, and seeks out her grandmother Amphitrite to learn how to control them.

look at me - i will never pass for a perfect bride  A retelling of Mulan. Shang meets Mulan before the draft, and she’s already a great warrior trained by her father. When she shows up in his camp pretending to be a man, he keeps her secret.

my what a guy, gaston!  A retelling of The Beauty and the Beast. Gaston is noble’s son who befriends the young Prince Adam, and falls in love with him. When he find out that a beast has killed the royal family and taken over the castle, he abandons his noble upbringing and becomes a hunter so that he can one day avenge the prince’s death.

the gifts of beauty and song A retelling of Sleeping Beauty. Maleficent is the good fairy, and the three faeries that raise Aurora are the bad ones. They raise Aurora to be a dark, heartless fae. To save Aurora and the human realm, Maleficent steals Prince Philip and trades him to the Elf King for a young elf servant.

I wonder why each little bird has a someone to sing to A retelling of Sleeping Beauty, and a companion piece to the gifts of beauty and song. Human Prince Philip finds his place in the Elf Realm, and also falls in love with its prince, Eli.

they call her maid maleen A retelling of Maid Maleen. Once the queen dies, the king can no longer stand to look at his daughter, the Princess Maleen. She becomes a servant in the palace, and her father remarries and has new children to take the throne. Then Prince Wolfgang visits the palace and falls for the opinionated servant who brings him his meals.

Princess Kaguya of the Moon A retelling of The Tale of The Bamboo Cutter. Kaguya runs from her home of the moon to earth, where she becomes the beloved daughter of a bamboo cutter. She grows up beautiful, and princes from all across the land seek her hand. None of them make an impression, until the Emperor visits.

looking around here you think - sure, she’s got everything A retelling of The Little Mermaid. Ariel is the prince of the Atlantica, and heir to the seven seas because the trident chose him when he was just a toddler. Except Ariel is actually a trans girl who’s worried the trident will reject her if it knows she’s a girl, since it rejected all of her sisters. first version here.

paint heaven and anger the gods A retelling inspired by the Miss Hokusai trailer. Kana is the daughter of Juro, a famous painter who paints beautiful things. She tries to paint like her father, but instead discovers how to do something else: how to paint things with power.

sound the drums of war A retelling of Pocahontas. Instead of fighting to preserve an uneven peace between her tribe and the pale people, she instead leads them into war. Supporting her are her dear friends Kokoum and Nakoma.

where will they live? A retelling of the stories of selkies and swan maidens. A swan maiden throws off her cloak of feathers, runs a pub in Dublin, and falls in love with a mysterious woman in a grey silk dress.

she is the snow queen A retelling of The Snow Queen. Gerda is on a quest to find her best friend Kai, and Madhubala is on a quest to find her lost Summer Queen. Along the way, they find each other.

Let Down Your Hair A retelling of Rapunzel. Gothel intends to give Rapunzel to her sister, known as the Old Lady Who Lived in a Shoe. But thanks to Rapunzel’s mother consuming Gothel’s magic lettuce, Rapunzel has magical powers of her own, which means Gothel must raise her as her own daughter.

Red Robin Hood A retelling of Little Red Riding Hood and Robin Hood. There’s a sickness sweeping through the village, but their king won’t give them medicine. So Robin dons her red cloak and goes to find some. 

Fox Sister A retelling of The Fox Sister. Yeon-saeng is born a kumiho, a fox demon, and struggles to control her painful, gnawing hunger for human hearts. 

The Frog Prince A retelling of The Frog Prince. Halim has been in love with Prince Darius since he was a little boy, and he doesn’t think that’s ever going to change. Aneksi is the daughter of the pharaoh, and thinks being a foreign bride sounds like an adventure. 

Baroness Marian A retelling of Little Red Riding Hood and Robin Hood. Sequel to Red Robin Hood. Robin goes to a fancy party to steal things, and comes across the captivating Baroness Marian - or Maid Marian, as her friends call her. [n/s/f/w]

A Garden of Secrets A retelling of The Secret Garden. The garden is older than it appears, and has a conscious of it’s own. 

A City Girl A retelling of Mulan. After her father moves their family to the capital to serve as an adviser to the emperor, Mulan learns everything she can about fighting and strategy, and ends up teaching it to a boy who gets up before dawn to practice.

click here for the most recent version of this post

[iingezo]

Raiel for @lorebreaker !

[leafy-yezi]

Red riding hood & wolf

[crunchyrain]

Starbucks is shutting down Kismet, a local Turkish cafe under the claim they serve espresso

Spoilers: they don’t. It’s Turkish coffee.

In the center of Alderwood Mall in Washington, there’s two kiosks.

One is a creation built from the ground up (Literally. They had to install the plumbing and electric themselves.) by a married couple from Turkey. They had a restaurant before immigrating here, and chose to set up shop in a region with a huge middle eastern population. Achma, simit, baklava, Nutella Bomb (Bomb of Izmir remix), börek, and whatever baked goods they’re giving a whip up are worked on as they chat with you. Turkish coffee is brewed and served in beautiful little cups, Italian sodas prepped, and with a baked good of choice enjoyed at the wrap around counter. The place has become a tiny cultural island of familiarity, where friends and families gather to chat, eat and drink.

The other is a duplicate stamp fast food kiosk by a bloated multi-billion dollar corporation that’s already shut down one of its three (3) locations within the mall, leaving yet another unoccupied dead space.

For years, it’s ignored Kismet’s presence while it made the usual hard climb from startup. But it’s gotten popular. And they don’t like it.

And so they walk up to Brookfield Properties who own the mall, and whip out the contract of no one else on the property serving espresso (yes. they have that. insidious isn’t it?) demanding that the Turkish coffee shop close. Here’s the screamer though: They. Don’t. Serve. Espresso. But Brookfield won’t squirm under the thumb of the megacorp unless it’s made loud and clear what a big mistake that is.

They’ve put up a petition to try and rally enough support and noise to get this bullshit on the news.

If you would like to help, even signing the petition will carry this forward. Reblog and share it too, and let’s see if we can’t give Starbucks a well-earned kick in the groin.

[titkoks]

[homunculus-argument]

Hey btw, if you're doing worldbuilding on something, and you're scared of writing ~unrealistic~ things into it out of fear that it'll sound lazy and ripped-out-of-your-ass, but you also don't want to do all the back-breaking research on coming up with depressingly boring, but practical and ~realistic~ solutions, have a rule:

Just give the thing two layers of explanation. One to explain the specific problem, and another one explaining the explanation. Have an example:

Plot hole 1: If the vampires can't stand daylight, why couldn't they just move around underground?

Solution 1: They can't go underground, the sewer system of the city is full of giant alligators who would eat them.

Well, that's a very quick and simple explanation, which sure opens up additional questions.

Plot hole 2: How and why the fuck are there alligators in the sewers? How do they survive, what do they eat down there when there's no vampires?

Solution 2: The nuns of the Underground Monastery feed and take care of them as a part of their sacred duties.

It takes exactly two layers to create an illusion that every question has an answer - that it's just turtles all the way down. And if you're lucky, you might even find that the second question's answer loops right back into the first one, filling up the plot hole entirely:

Plot hole 3: Who the fuck are the sewer nuns and what's their point and purpose?

Solution 3: The sewer nuns live underground in order to feed the alligators, in order to make sure that the vampires don't try to move around via the sewer system.

When you're just making things up, you don't need to have an answer for everything - just two layers is enough to create the illusion of infinite depth. Answer the question that looms behind the answer of the first question, and a normal reader won't bother to dig around for a 3rd question.

[ineffablecalculus]

Right? Vampires are out. Sewer nuns are my new obsession.

[swallowtailed]

[id: screenshot of tags reading “this is a great post but i am compelled by the sewer nuns” /end id]

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Writing advice #?: Have your characters wash the dishes while they talk.

This is one of my favorite tricks, picked up from E.M. Forester and filtered through my own domestic-homebody lens.  Forester says that you should never ever tell us how a character feels; instead, show us what those emotions are doing to a character’s posture and tone and expression.  This makes “I felt sadness” into “my shoulders hunched and I sighed heavily, staring at the ground as my eyes filled with tears.”  Those emotions-as-motions are called objective correlatives.  Honestly, fic writers have gotten the memo on objective correlatives, but sometimes struggle with how to use them.

Objective correlatives can quickly become a) repetitive or b) melodramatic.  On the repetitive end, long scenes of dialogue can quickly turn into “he sighed” and “she nodded” so many times that he starts to feel like a window fan and she like a bobblehead.  On the melodramatic end, a debate about where to eat dinner can start to feel like an episode of Jerry Springer because “he shrieked” while “she clenched her fists” and they both “ground their teeth.”  If you leave the objective correlatives out entirely, then you have what’s known as “floating” dialogue — we get the words themselves but no idea how they’re being said, and feel completely disconnected from the scene.  If you try to get meaning across by telling us the characters’ thoughts instead, this quickly drifts into purple prose.

Instead, have them wash the dishes while they talk.

To be clear: it doesn’t have to be dishes.  They could be folding laundry or sweeping the floor or cooking a meal or making a bed or changing a lightbulb.  The point is to engage your characters in some meaningless, everyday household task that does not directly relate to the subject of the conversation.

This trick gives you a whole wealth of objective correlatives.  If your character is angry, then the way they scrub a bowl will be very different from how they’ll be scrubbing while happy.  If your character is taking a moment to think, then they might splash suds around for a few seconds.  A character who is not that invested in the conversation will be looking at the sink not paying much attention.  A character moderately invested will be looking at the speaker while continuing to scrub a pot.  If the character is suddenly very invested in the conversation, you can convey this by having them set the pot down entirely and give their full attention to the speaker.

A demonstration:

1

“I’m leaving,” Anastasia said.

“What?”  Drizella continued dropping forks into the dishwasher.

2

“I’m leaving,” Anastasia said.

Drizella paused midway through slotting a fork into the dishwasher.  “What?”

3

“I’m leaving,” Anastasia said.

Drizella laughed, not looking up from where she was arranging forks in the dishwasher.  “What?”

4

“I’m leaving,” Anastasia said.

The forks slipped out of Drizella’s hand and clattered onto the floor of the dishwasher.  “What?”

5

“I’m leaving,” Anastasia said.

“What?”  Drizella shoved several forks into the dishwasher with unnecessary force, not seeming to notice when several bounced back out of the silverware rack.

See how cheaply and easily we can get across Drizella’s five different emotions about Anastasia leaving, all by telling the reader how she’s doing the dishes?  And all the while no heads were nodded, no teeth were clenched.

The reason I recommend having it be one of these boring domestic chores instead of, say, scaling a building or picking a lock, is that chores add a sense of realism and are low-stakes enough not to be distracting.  If you add a concurrent task that’s high-stakes, then potentially your readers are going to be so focused on the question of whether your characters will pick the lock in time that they don’t catch the dialogue.  But no one’s going to be on the edge of their seat wondering whether Drizella’s going to have enough clean forks for tomorrow.

And chores are a cheap-n-easy way to add a lot of realism to your story.  So much of the appeal of contemporary superhero stories comes from Spider-Man having to wash his costume in a Queens laundromat or Green Arrow cheating at darts, because those details are fun and interesting and make a story feel “real.”  Actually ask the question of what dishes or clothing or furniture your character owns and how often that stuff gets washed.  That’s how you avoid reality-breaking continuity errors like stating in Chapter 3 that all of your character’s worldly possessions fit in a single backpack and in Chapter 7 having your character find a pair of pants he forgot he owns.  You don’t have to tell the reader what dishes your character owns (please don’t; it’s already bad enough when Tolkien does it) but you should ideally know for yourself.

Anyway: objective correlatives are your friends.  They get emotion across, but for low-energy scenes can become repetitive and for high-energy scenes can become melodramatic.  The solution is to give your characters something relatively mundane to do while the conversation is going on, and domestic chores are not a bad starting place.

[fullmetalfisting]

Was walking my dog downtown and he stopped to drink from a dog bowl in front of a bar and I was like “Oh, are you a thirsty little boy?” And a grown-ass man sitting there said “i guess I am,” as he took a sip of his beer and then he realized I was not talking to him and looked completely horrified

[retroactivebakeries]

#id fuck him