#were-creature

[thatsbelievable]

[raph-fangirl]

The Siren and the Shark - prologue

Mermaid x Were-Shark, Fantasy Romance/Eventual Erotica, with Gothic Horror Elements, Inspired by The Little Mermaid Tale

𓂃𓂁𓂃 main index - includes chapter navigation and story info

𓂃𓂁𓂃 divider by @pxrce-lain

I thought that I was hungry for love Maybe I was just hungry for blood Sea foam woman on the shore Your prairie ghost, I'm a cottage whore All the mermaids have sharp teeth Razor blades all in your feet

England is only ever grey or green The girls glitter striding glorious and coatless in the rain I remember falling through these streets Somewhat out of place, if not for the drunkenness

It makes my chest hurt to think of it Not of regret, but of missing that

Cheerful oblivion Cheerful oblivion

It was not all pain and pavements slick with rain And shining under lights from shitty clubs and doing shitty drugs And hugging girls that smelt like Britney Spears and coconuts And with your mermaid hair and your teeth so sharp You crawled from the sea to break that sailor's heart You only get one night upon the shore So dance like you've never danced before And the dance floor is filling up with blood But, oh, Lord, you've never been so in love

Cheerful oblivion Cheerful oblivion Cheerful oblivion

And the mermaids, they come once a year They climb the struts of Brighton Pier They come to drink, they come to dance To sacrifice a human heart And the world is so much wilder than you think You haven't seen nothing till you seen an English girl drink

Cheerful oblivion Cheerful oblivion Cheerful oblivion Cheerful oblivion Cheerful oblivion

"Mermaids" by Florence + the Machine

It’s easy to get lost in the beauty of the ocean shore, even for a mermaid. But it’s not the serenity of an easy moonlit night that entices me, as most would think. It’s the wild and riproarious waves crashing down onto the rocky shore—the raging heart of the ocean, beating with fierce rhythm. 

I rise out of the water, sea foam runs off my back. The rocks shift under my feet, crinkling like forest leaves. My gills fade, my teeth lose their edge, my nails round out.

But I smell rot off in the distance. My eyes dart to the human pier not far off. A single fish left on a gutting stand, hook still in its mouth.

I want it. But can’t stomach such an easy catch in human form. I turn away, grunting in frustration.

Besides, my real prey is just up the hill.

Mist clouds form around me, impeding my vision. The air is thick, and the wind is biting and cold. But it is a good feeling—the pleasure of pain. The pleasure of being alive and knowing that I am real.

I listen for noise—voices, music. And soon, a faint sound calls to me. I creep behind a boulder, then climb on top of it. The mist clears for a moment, and I see the shack at the very top of the hill in the distance. A song pours out of its windows. What must have been a fire looks like candlelight from so far away. He is home.

Crawling down from the boulder, I am careful to not make much of a disturbance. I tiptoe through the smooth rocks and then begin my trek up the hill. Gray-green grasses greet me. I run my fingers along their tall, slender stalks.

His scent fills the air. Smoke, oysters, rotting wood. I duck into the grasses as his shack comes into view. 

And then there he is. Swinging the door open. Mud caked on his beard. He wears bright yellow boots. His jovial laugh echoes through me, tingling my spine.

I wonder for a moment what his name might be. What secrets are behind his snow blue eyes.

What would happen if ever our eyes met.

He grabs a box then carries it back inside but forgets to close the door. I squint, peering in. Various trinkets and trophies line the walls. Seashells, bones, tools.

I want to enter his life. To walk in through the door, nothing but the seaweed on my back, and tell him to take me, I am his. The shore in all its wild glory would be our home. I would tell him where all the shoals of fish are. And he would sell the leftovers from the catch in the nearby town.

I lay down in the grass, cool mud seeping in through my veins. The sound of waves crashing into the nearby rocky cliffs. His whistling. Winds whipping and mists swirling. These sounds lull me into a peaceful slumber. 

When I wake, he is gone. 

[corvidthedragon]

bit of a ‘kin update

so I think I might be a werewolf (or some other were-creature). Probably something primarily bipedal that can also walk in all fours. I don’t feel completely wolfy or anything, it’s only really the vibes of werewolves feels right. Like, the bloodlust that is often associated with it and the general behaviours that are usually depicted in media and stuff.

anyways, were-creatures who find this, share your experiences, I wanna hear all about it!!

[frizzycrls]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alastor/Lucifer Magne | Morningstar, Charlie Magne | Morningstar/Vaggie Characters: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Lucifer Magne | Morningstar, Charlie Magne | Morningstar, Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel) Additional Tags: Vampires, Half-Vampires, Vampire Hunters, Were-Creatures, Alternate Universe Series: Part 9 of Future story ideas Summary:

Lucifer had been around a long damn time. Too long really. The only thing that kept him from seeking a way out of living was his daughter, Charlie.

Then she calls him out of the blue, asking for him to help save her friend, Alastor.

The confusing thing is, Alastor is a Hunter... who is also a were-creature? But weredeer weren't supposed to have a carnivore's teeth or a vampire's eyes!

[were-michael]

Welcome!!

Asks: Open

Welcome to my were-creature Michael Afton AU! Where I can let my Were-creature loving ass write and (attempt) drawing!

This AU will follow themes of the usual fnaf shit, William being a shit dad, human experimentation and the usual were-creature shit (Violence and painful transformations)

Michael in this AU is a WereBear as I am a sucker for the Glamike theory (That might tie in with older Mike)

ORIGIN

UNCLE

[gooserolls]

Day 3 of Clonetober: were-creature au

I absolutely had to turn Hardcase into a goat.

[satyrbitez]

What a night for all of the lesbian werewolves to come out