I Hate Being Unable To Relate To A Lot Of Other Alterhumans Because I Have Anthro Forms

I rlly wanna be a dog like being drugged up when owner comes home. I would do the chores and follow a routine so Ill get everything done ofc I would have free time to do some hobbies. But like I want an owner to guide me and help me with hard decisions. I think that structure would really help my autism and make my life better and easier. I would like to have owner help me stop swearing and fix my foul mouth cause good girls don’t swear.

My boyfriend talked me out of it, he's so supportive of me. Even though this is all weird and I acknowledge it. We both do. It's not usual to be dating a dog. But he just scitches my head and tells me l'm soooo good. That l've been a brave dog who survived a week. I did it. I can rest my paws.

Shouldn't do shrooms anymore because the body dysmorphia I get while on it is to much to bear, I whined for like 40 minutes trying to feel my paws and tail, and even when I could I felt so sick and deathly. I'm not a good dog right now. Need pets so so so bad... my body isn't right for anything..

bro i hate having to lie about being a therian to non therians

like one of my roommates for this trip i’m on says they are okay with furrries but therians? nope

and like i had to lie and like not agree but like act like im not one

kill me

Something about a Krueger x reader fallout au is just so.... Mmmmm, I see his hot ass wasteland outfit imprinted on my cranium.

Specifically new vegas- totally not because of bias and im playing it for the 3rd time again or anything- with krueger being the one looking for the platinum chip and reader is the player/courier.

Nikto as a ghoul would be there somehow, krueger's silent but deadly (not like a fart) companion. I genuinely dont have much thought out besides that i just thunked this up while doing makeup and thought it was cool.

i think i may be werewolf kin?? SOMEONE SAVE ME. this has been gnawing at my mind for a while now

could any werewolves on nonhuman tumblr lmk your experiences/how you figured out you were a werewolf in the comments? IM STRUGGLING 😭💖

I wish I was just a dumb and spoiled little puppy and had nothing to worry about other than when dinner time is. But instead I'm experiencing The Horrors. Life isn't fair

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝗔𝗨𝗗𝗜𝗢 𝗠𝗔𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗘 𝗨𝗡𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗙𝗧𝗦 𝗘𝗧𝗖(?)

I'm up the country at my grandparents cabin for the weekend and decided on doing some vocals!

I'm not the best at vocals :,) I'm only familiar with barking, growling/snarling and a lil bit of howling! I'm trying to get better with vocals related to my other theriotypes! :3

silly werewolf transformation

Krueger is on his phone a lot, right? What is he doing there? Reddit? Picking fights on twitter? Is he a mobile gamer? I want to look through his gallery too... Or do I? 👀

Yes! I think Krueger is on his phone quite a lot. Checks it when he doesn't sleep (which is often - he's got a very patchy sleep), when he smokes, when he gets up before the others.

I like to imagine he browses stuff like craigslist where you can find pretty much everything. Like not even to buy anything, just because he enjoys browsing. Yes I think he uses Reddit a lot, and specifically goes on nsfl and combat footage subs. And no, you do not want to peep into his phone gallery. It's password-protected, btw.

Symbiosis [Kidnapper!König x Reader]

A/N: HUGE thank you to both @uhohdad and @suimon for beta reading, love you <3 this fic was so fun to write omg

Summary: Maybe the only solution to being overworked and underpaid is a massive military man taking you away to be his little girlfriend.

Tags: Yandere König, Kidnapping, Obsessive König, Awkward Conversations, Social Anxiety, your both so dumb and its kinda sweet, Eventual Smut, dubcon, noncon, reader is a bit of a dummy, könig has impulse control issues, Fluff and Humor

You had no clue how long it’s been since you’ve been in this basement.

If you had to guess purely based on how often he visited, maybe two weeks, your skin feels grimy despite the infrequent showers you got, which are more of an excuse to stare at your body and berate your pitiful attempts at keeping yourself covered. He had gone on a mission, at least that’s what he told you, dickhead could easily just be lounging in his bedroom while you lay on a flimsy mattress, surrounded by random knickknacks and some necessities that your captor patronisingly told you to ration properly while he’s gone. You stretch your sore arms and legs, the chain on your ankle rattling at the motion. You think back on how you got in this mess, why did you answer that vacancy ad again?

Oh.

Because you were a broke college dropout and gigs for a maintenance lady are far and few in between, that’s why.

It was your first week at the private military contractor you were freelancing in for a few months. All you had to do was repair some wires and inspect the systems to make sure everything was running smoothly. You had no clue what a military contractor was until you got the call from them, barely even bothering to learn the name or the inner workings of it considering there’s no way you planned on being a permanent hire. If the shitty pay wasn’t enough anti-motivation, the sexist comments and misogyny radiating from the hypermasculine environment really sealed the deal. You just had to do your work, get money, and leave to continue to live off cheap ramen and energy drinks. The fact that you couldn't run fast enough when the base you were on was attacked was a surprise to absolutely no one.

In your defence, it wasn’t your lack of athletic ability that got you caught, rather the freeze response from seeing the biggest man you’ve ever seen pull a knife out of your supervisor’s neck before turning his cloaked head to look at you. You have never felt more like a prey in your life than when you saw him turn his whole body towards you, tripping backwards once he started approaching.

“Was haben wir hier?” He tilted his head as he towered over you, cruel blue eyes twinkling with amusement. 

You barely registered that he was talking, panicked eyes darting between his own and the bloody knife in his hand. Tears flowed freely as you sobbed, a shaky hand coming up to put some semblance of a barrier. “P-Please…” you stuttered, voice barely above a whisper.

“KÖNIG! We’ve heading out” a voice called from behind a corner. The hulking man grabbed you by the arm and pulled, forcing you to stand on wobbly feet. He grabbed your face and turned it from side to side, lightly squeezing your cheeks in the process. “Schön” he nods to himself. Another soldier steps into the corridor, his face entirely covered with a mask and dark sunglasses.

“The hell are you doing?” the new man said, and you finally noticed the South Korean flag on his uniform. A thing so distracting apparently that you didn’t notice the goliath next to you grab his gun and angle the base of it to the back of your head, knocking you out instantly.

Next thing you knew you were tied up in what he tells you is his basement. He'd informed you that you were announced deceased by authorities, waving a document in front of your face patronizingly. You were no longer a citizen of anywhere. 

As far as the law was concerned, you just didn’t exist.

And so you spent your days in abject boredom, every puzzle he had handed you solved thrice over and the notebook he had handed you was adorned with exceedingly improving flower doodles with each page. 

You fiddled with the chain on your ankle, long enough to let you walk around the basement to relieve yourself and stop your muscles from atrophying, but not enough to reach past the first step of the stairs. You munch on a dried apricot as you examine the space around you, finding a corner with stacked boxes, each covered in a thin layer of dust. He never asked you ‘not’ to touch his boxes, did he? The only instructions he gave when he fucked off was not to die and drink water. The boredom was chipping at your self preservation regardless of how your captor felt.  You decide to kill some time and examine the content, you turn one of the boxes and your heart nearly drops at the writing on it’s side. 

Bücher

‘Bucher’? ‘Butcher’?! Is that what he’s planning to do to you? The thought of him keeping souvenirs of previous victims in the same room you were staying in for WEEKS makes you shudder. Maybe he kept some sort of weapon in there, an oversight but the amount of dust covering the box made his forgetfulness plausible. Your stomach turns at the idea of uncovering some decomposing remains, but the promise of potentially having a weapon to defend yourself is enough to push you through the line.

Your hand shakes as you reach for the tape. You take a deep breath, bracing for the rancid scent of decaying flesh as you rip open the tape as quickly as a band-aid. 

You don’t even realize you closed your eyes until you had to feel for the flaps to open them, breathing out and staring down the daunting vision of… Books. 

A considerable amount of them. The covers tell you the majority of them are either Science Fiction or Fantasy with a few comics in between, all in German. You instantly recognize the cover of a book- A manga! the warmth of nostalgia flooding your chest. 

You pick up the copy of ‘Slam Dunk’ and flip through the pages, a high pitched squeal leaves you when you realize it is in English. You flip through the pages and the dopey grin doesn’t leave your face as you read through the familiar story. The manga was not your favorite but god was it good to have anything to pass the time that isn’t your own thoughts. You forgot how fun the story is, as well as how incredibly detailed the art is. Maybe this is something you could actually talk about with König, not like there was much you could talk about other than ‘eat food’ or ‘shower’ and ‘no I am not leaving the room while you piss’. So maybe having this bit of connection could be beneficial for your relationship. 

You are haunted by the fact that you are so desperate for companionship that you classify this kidnapping as a “relationship”. 

You slap the book closed and toss it back to the box, this is ridiculous! You can’t waste time like this, you need to find a way to actually get out of here, you need to get back to…to…

To what exactly? Your shitty apartment that you’re paying way too much rent for? Your job which you hate but only do because you need to pay back your debts? Your non-existent social life? Your parents who barely talk to you and just assumed you would need money every time you called to check on them? As morbid a thought as it was, a part of you thinks they might even be grateful you aren’t in their lives anymore. And how would you even know where to go? You had no clue where you were and even if you did, there is no guarantee they don’t just put you in some kind of mental institute, and you don’t doubt a man capable of faking your death and whisking you away to God knows where would have a hard time finding you and killing you. Or worse.

You chew on your bottom lip as you recall your life before this, empty apartment, stale reheated food, misogynistic coworkers, a non stop flow of stomach churning news, constant money anxiety…

Maybe…Maybe this could be good… if you’re good and obedient, maybe this could be a chance to start over and live a more tolerable life where you don’t have to deal with bills or finding work or money. 

Or maybe you fuck up and get actually bütchered. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

König sighs and drops his head against the steering wheel of his car, exhaustion seeping from every pore of his body. his head throbs as he runs through the list of things he has to do, constant work following him even after he’s done with his deployment. Taking you in was maybe the most impulsive thing he has done in his life, his hastily put together basement housing is proof of that. He was eternally grateful to whatever god that made you so docile, with only a few snarky remarks here and there as your only form of real push back.

He takes in a deep breath and cracks his knuckles, steadying himself before he gets inside his own house. How ironic that he feels so trapped in a situation where he kidnapped another person. He could only hope you didn’t A) Kill yourself. B) Starve to death C) something more dumb that would end with you dying. 

He isn’t entirely sure what his end goal is, the second he saw you all that was running through his mind was an overwhelming desire to possess and keep you. The adrenaline and heat of a recently won battle wasn’t conducive to clarity of mind, and being in a company full of scumbags who only cackled when he said he’s taking you in for questioning and didn’t blink an eye when you suddenly disappeared. 

Maybe he loved the idea of having a woman to come back home to, the warmth of a home cooked meal and eager embrace was a dream he’s had since childhood. One that has eluded him all his life. 

König had no women in his life since the death of his mother. He was an awkward, unsocial, and unsightly man. He had assumed he could overcome these qualities by becoming a strong soldier and accumulating enough money, but all that got him was a few one night stands and women who were put off by his overeager spending on expensive gifts. He felt stupider after every break up, but that didn’t stop him from chasing after the next fluttering pair of lashes that gave him the time of day. Having picked his heart off the concrete one time too many, he thought a life of solitude and misery was all he was meant for. 

And then you, with your warbling lip and terrified eyes, enter his life. He now has something to actually look forward to each day, you were a light in his bleak life. There was something so…sweet about you, how your fear made you more meek, pliable, well-behaved. You never cursed him out, and your pitiful attempts at glaring were crushed easily with one of his own. 

Everytime he looked at you, everytime he squeezed your arm a little too tight when he took you to shower, everytime you looked up at him as you folded into yourself, all he could think of is that he deserved this. For all the pain, isolation, and loneliness he’d faced in life, he deserves a cute little girlfriend to keep for himself, who would (eventually) dote on him and smile at him with stars in her eyes and warmth in her chest. It doesn’t matter how he got you, he will make you love him, no matter how long it takes. 

He needs to be strategic about this of course, he can’t just give you everything you want and risk spoiling you or worse, making you think you can escape. He needs to get you used to your environment, accepting your position as ‘His’. Then he can actually start to court you properly, come with flowers, clothes, pretty jewelry for a pretty girl. He could already see your face light up in delight as he comes to you with a bouquet of roses or chocolates, wrapping your arms around his middle as your ‘thank yous’ are muffled into his chest. 

The image helped push him to move into the house, feeling lighter than usual. He takes a quick shower before going to see you, placing his mask back on his face as he heads to the basement. As his hand wraps around the door handle, he pauses. 

Should he have gotten you something? He left you in that room for a week, it was dark and he only left you with whatever random nick-nacks he has collected over the years as entertainment. Did he even tell you it was okay to look through his boxes? He’s sure he has, maybe you’ll like some of the books he has had since he was a teenager, he hadn’t looked through them in years so he wasn’t entirely sure what titles he had. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose and curses his own stupidity, how could he forget that he barely read any English books? God he hopes you haven't died of boredom. He needs to find you something to do, a harmless hobby that could keep your pretty head occupied without risking your safety. Something like…brushing your hair or whatever. He tucks that thought to the back of his head as he unlocks the door and steps into the basement. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

His steps are as loud as a gun, and just as terrifying. How is he somehow taller than you remember? 

You want to stay rigid as possible, you are reminded of those school career days where the police would bring in their massive K-9s for demonstrations. The fear imbedded into your bones when the trainer walked into the gymnasium, a leash attached to a muzzled dog whose fur was as black as coal and a bark as ear splitting as thunder.  You still remember the way its body moved, lithe and powerful as it chased after the “criminal”, sharp canines clasped tightly around his guarded arm, head flailing side to side with terrifying growls. The moment you made eye contact with the beast was burned into your memory, the sudden paralysis which raked your body, the ache in your joints as your heart beat like a drum against your ribcage. You feared dogs ever since that day, the need to avert your gaze and never look at a dog that big and dangerous followed you your whole life. 

So you kept your eyes glued to the ground, your knees pressed to your chest even as you felt him come closer to you. It was a concentrated effort to keep your breathing even and you were still failing, you felt the mattress depress next to you, after a beat, you turned your head to see König sitting cross legged next to you, hands resting on his knees, thumbs pressing circles on his leg. His back is impressively straight and his gaze fixed to the ground, it feels almost considerate, like he is giving you some semblance of privacy in a moment where you were extremely vulnerable. 

“Did you drink water?” He said, it came out as a grunt and he cleared his throat. You didn’t have enough time to process his question and gave a near caveman like ‘huh?’ in response. He turned his head then, blue eyes peering through his hood. 

“Water, wasser, did you drink it while I was gone?” he repeats again, slower, like you were a dummy he was put in charge of taking care of. You take a deep breath and nod, your fear of upsetting him overriding the fact that your head throbs from how little water is circulating your system. He has left you a considerable amount of food rations, but having no clue when he’ll return made you hesitant to consume more than absolutely necessary. The food now could last you at least a month if you were careful with it.

He nods once, his hands resting on his knees. The awkwardness permeating the air makes your lungs feel heavy, weighing you down like tar on feathers. You glance at him, his arms are the first thing you take note of, they are massive even as he’s relaxed like this, no wonder he hauled your ass so easily. You can’t afford to imagine him flexing, otherwise your touch starved self might just bite his arm, so you force your gaze to his hood, and…

Huh. 

“I like your hair” You whisper, flinching when he whips his head to stare at you. His icy blue eyes scan over your frightened features, momentarily you wonder if he was testing you, if he didn’t wear his helmet only to see if you would actually comment on it. Did you fail? Was he about to condemn you to another month of no contact because of it?! 

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, a result of malnutrition you assume. 

“Can I touch it?” 

It’s his turn to flinch now, eyes wide in shock. You see them dart from your face to your hands to the floor. He seems nervous, almost…shy? 

He clears his throat and rolls his shoulders, facing away from you now. He rubs his hand over his thigh a few times before leaning slowly towards you. You would have missed the small nod he gave had you not been watching him like a rat observing a snake for any kind of movement. A hesitant hand reaches for his hair, running your finger through it. It was too short for you to really sink your hand through it, but it was long enough for you to grab and pull at it. Maybe if you were a better woman you would have taken advantage of it, luckily for him, you were a terrible woman whose throat constricted at the warmth of his proximity.  

Your fingers moved in small circles as he leaned in closer to you, you can smell him better now, he smells clean and fresh, like he’s just stepped out of the shower. Envy fogs your mind as you can feel your hair stick to your head from how much grease has accumulated on it, your little dips in the water doing very little to get it clean. You can’t see his face, but if his shoulders are anything to go by, he’s in a decent mood, maybe he’ll let you take a proper shower so you could feel human again. 

“You smell nice,” you mumble, trying to find a way to phrase this without sounding as desperate as you were “have- have you showered recently?” He makes a low sound in the back of his throat and nods, his body now turned towards you, his hands keeping him balanced as he leaned in even closer. 

You use both hands to rub his scalp, he lets out a long exhale as you do. Good, great even. “Must have been nice…I’d love a proper shower too” you try, the last part sounding shakier than you intended. You feel him stiffen, no longer feeling like putty in your hands. He raises his head slowly, pale blue eyes staring into your soul as he lets out a humorless chuckle. 

“That’s what this was about, ja?” He cocks a brow, a visual indication of you being busted. You stutter out a half assed excuse of not knowing what he was talking about, the word ‘butcher’ ringing between your ears like a bell signaling how terribly you handled this subtlety thing. 

“You want to shower with me, Maus?” He says, tilting his head to the side. You panic and place your hands on his shoulders, pushing him away. You succeed in getting a millimetre of distance between you.

“No!” 

“No?” 

“I-yes, no! I’m…” your eyes dart all around the basement, the walls seemingly moving in and suffocating you in a damp, musty embrace. You cannot live like this, subtlety be damned. 

“I feel so… gross, I smell bad, I just want a shower…” you admit, feeling like a 7 year old who just spilled their juice over their new white shirt, the embarrassment adding another layer of grime on your skin. 

König decides that moment of vulnerability is a good time to startle you by burying his hooded face in the crook of your neck and taking a deep inhale.  “You smell fine to me”

You may just cry. 

“...Please?” 

König snorts, pinching your cheek and fetching a key from his back pocket. 

“Alright, filthy, let’s go”

Let me know if you wanna be tagged when chapter 2 gets posted!

divider by @thecutestgrotto

Let me know what you think!