#and migration patterns were fun to look at for it

[apartfromgod]

got bored earlier, and now i have an entire paper written in my head about the bubonic plague linking to the industrial revolution, due to the rat population in central london

[ranfordgallus]

I can't believe i made a whole ass species lore just for a wild kratts oc my god i never thought it could come this way but..thats the fun of it i guess LMAOO

Anyways..

Meet the Sickle-horned Equdore, a species of antelope found in the northern part of Kazakhstan where forests lie. Where their ancestors, the bluebuck, migrated from the south coast of africa to central asia.

The word Equdore (pronounced "eqoodor") means equine-like antelope, due to their appearance being similar to those of modern day horses though due to their two hooved they are not considered in the equus family.

The sexual dymorphism of the Sickle-horned Equdores are somewhat similar to those of deers or mooses, the male being bigger and more patterned with bigger horns. However not all male Sickle-horns have big horns, some have smaller horns usually from too much stress of poor diet during development of the horns growing, female Sickle-horns prefer those with bigger horns to show their health and potential. Male Sickle-horns are the only sex with the distinctive sickle shaped horns, hence their name.

Female Sickle-horned Equdores are slightly smaller than the male by a foot, however just because they are smaller than the males, does not mean they are small compared by a human, standing 8 feet tall. Female Sickle-horns have more curved horns that doesn't resemble an actual sickle, while the male horns of the Sickle-horned Equdore are shaped for both protection and attraction, female horns are only used for protection.

The social behavior of them are also similar to wild horses or chickens. One alpha male (fuck..i can't take that phrase seriously due to THOSE alpha male dudes you see in instagram reels or in podcasts..) and a herd, usually 8 to 15 females, the male provides safety and food by communicating that theres an abundance of food, if the male..example, finds a fruit tree, he will call the herd and let them eat first by helping to kick the tree so the fruits could fall down, easier to pick on, and the male will eat after a few have eaten already.

The unique part of the Sickle-horned Equdore is each pattern from each individual species are different, so they have their own set of pattern only own by those who bear it, making them easy to distinguish from others. And their fur is blue in colour, while not very blue, if you colorpicked their fur the color is more the blue area even though it looks more purple. Blue pigment is very- almost impossible in mammals, some "blue" furred mammals are usually more grey.

I also even made what the creature power suits of the species, both sex, though the powersuits are still a big smaller compared to the actual animal, they still stand around 7-8 feet. Poor chris, he's more teal and blue than his usual green colour, like the blue heron episode...

So what are the Sickle-horned Equdores known for other than their sickle-shaped horns and their blue fur?

They are famous for the creation of the mythical greek animal, the unicorn. When greek adventurers went to central asia, they discovered the rarest mutation of the Sickle-horns, the mutation that made them have a singular horn, while in real life unicorns were from the misinterpertation of rhinos, in my Wild Kratts universe, the unicorn mythology came from this species but historians theoried that it came from rhinoceros because they haven't found or rediscovered the species that created the famous fantasy animal in the first place.

This mutation is REALLY REALLY rare, less than 2 percent have this mutation that caused them to have a singular horn.

(Picture of Aoife and Einhorn. Oc on the left (Aoife) belongs to @martincrushcameback while Einhorn belongs to me.)

The burden of having such a unique birth defect is that you have a low chance of surviving or creating a herd of their own, female Sickle-horns with this condition are less likely to find a mate or a group to be accepted in, while males have a hard time to create their own herd, and their singular horn couldn't fight a male who already has a herd and they can't stand a chance, because whos more likely to win? A highly skilled person with two swords or the one that only has one and is average skilled?

One horns are so rare that records say only one was found, though many scientist disaproved the one horned as "not real" thinking the photo was painted to look like it had one horn, since they didn't believe that unicorns existed..lol

And Sickle-horned Equdores were once highly poached and hunted during the mongol empire, the people tried domesticating them so they could use them as a source of transportation for the extremely wealthy and war for the mightiest soldiers, unfortunately the domestication was a fail, so instead, they hunted them for their beautiful coat and horns for decor for the rich and those in power. So much that they reduced their population from a million to only 200 thousand left today. Their population is growing at a steady pace due to orginizations to protect these endangered animals. Fun fact, the Sickle-horned was rediscovered very early in the 1970's, historians found remnants of Sickle-horn hide and horns thinking these creatures are long extinct back in the 1900's.

Sooo..yeah, thats all i got for the species of Einhorn and Aoife..guuuhhh so much research..

Also, Equdore is a genus of antelope, meaning, like the big cat family including jaguars, tigers, lions and such, is their own family branch of the antelope family..MEANING...that there are other Equdore species not only existing to the Sickle-horned!

Also just to make sure Equdore is a fictional animal, there is no such genus of antelope called an Equdore..bah..

[houseofanticipation]

It's impossible to count the number of times you've imagined this moment. Late at night, under the covers; in the bathtub, and the shower; on slow days at the bookstore, the summer before senior year; during Mr. Madrigal's long, droning lectures. You fantasized so vividly you could see each scene on the back of your eyelids, hear each sound between breaths. Many a time your hand migrated southward, almost of its own volition. If you were in public, you'd hold it against your crotch, pressing it into yourself with the force of your clenched thighs. In private, you'd be far less subtle.

In all those fantasies, you never imagined it would look quite like this.

The hallway smells like cigarettes and industrial cleaner. The haphazardly patterned carpet is coming up at the edges. The yellow tube light overhead might be attempting morse code, the way it flickers. Paint peels from the door in front of you, and one of the metal digits in the room number has been replaced with one that doesn't quite match: room 233. You raise your hand, your knuckles inches from the door, and then you pause. You're not sure if you can go through with this.

Before you can decide, the door opens anyway.

You started posting pictures in your first year of college. It was just your tits at first. You'd been quietly following those subreddits and tumblr blogs for a while, and you thought it would be a bit of fun, a little thrill. You didn't expect the response you got: dozens of people telling you how much they'd enjoyed it, asking for more. So you posted more, and the people asked for different things. Post your ass. Post your cunt. Post your fingers in your cunt. Post audio of you moaning as you came. The more you revealed of yourself, the more attention you got, and the more attention you got, the more you wanted to show. People wanted to send you tips, so you set up a Cash App address. You never got much, a few dollars here and there, but it was nice to get a free coffee now and then.

And somewhere along the way, apparently, you let slip that you were a virgin.

The message came late last semester, from a Cash App user whose name was just a string of numbers. It read, "I will buy your virginity for $100,000. So you know I'm serious, here is $7000 for you to keep, deal or no deal. Let me know if interested."

It was like one of those hypotheticals you talk about with your friends at the dinner table. Would you work nonstop for a year if it meant you never had to work again? Would you cut off your hand if it meant you never had to die? Would you let a stranger from the internet take your virginity for a hundred thousand dollars? You thought about it for weeks. The 7 thousand in itself was a windfall you never could have imagined. It was the new laptop you needed, four times over. It was a large iced coffee ever day for three and a half years. After graduation, if you were smart, it could be your living expenses for the better part of a year. But a hundred thousand might be a house, or a car, or a few years of freedom to pursue your goals. And when you asked how you could trust him to pay when he'd gotten what he wanted, he told you he'd be happy to pay up front.

So here you are, in a dingy hotel, face to face with the broad-shouldered, potbellied older man in front of you. "I saw you through the peephole," he says. There's something impish about him. Maybe it's the toothy grin, or the way his ears stick out from his head, or the obvious glee in his voice as he looks you up and down. "My, you're much better in person. Come in! You got the money then?"

You nod. You didn't leave the Lyft until it was there in your account.

"Good," he says, throwing the dead bolt. "Let's get to it then, shall we?"

"What should...I mean, how do you want to..." you feel yourself talking strangely. Breathing in the wrong places, words tumbling over each other. "Maybe we should...talk first? Get to know each other?"

"No need for that," says the man matter-of-factly, unbuttoning his shirt. His chest is smooth, his skin a mottled pink. He waves a hand at your body. "Go ahead and get those off."

Back in high school, one of your recurring fantasies involved Jason Meier having his way with you in the back of that beat up convertible he used to drive. That old thing used to get you so wet. It was a piece of junk, but something about the exposure of it...In the fantasy, he's driven you out to some secluded spot outside of town. Cicadas drone all around. The night sky shines bright with stars. He cups your face with one hand, strokes your cheek with his thumb, asks you if this is your first time. He kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw, then below your ear, then down your neck. As his hands undo the top button of your blouse, he tells you he'll be gentle.

The man is watching you expectantly. With his shirt on, he looked like a portly old man. Without it you can see that every inch of that stocky build is hard muscle. That pink skin strains against his mass, muscle rippling beneath it as he moves. "What are you waiting for?"

Your legs tremble. Your knees feel like they're about to buckle. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your body has never done this before. You didn't know you could feel this kind of fear, and yet there's nothing to fight, nowhere to flee. You agreed to this. You decided this was what you wanted. Slowly, you pull your shirt over head.

He groans in the back of his throat, a long, growly sound. His face is a mask of focus, the impish joviality gone, his eyes fixated on your breasts. "And the rest."

You kick off your shoes, pull off your socks. An inch at a time, you slide your shorts and panties over your ass, down your legs, past your trembling knees. You step out of them, and now you're completely exposed. You cross your arms over your chest, then lower them when he grunts disapproval. Almost urgently, he unbuttons his pants, pulls out a long, rigid cock, and begins to stroke himself.

You didn't discover internet porn until your senior year, and before then the only penises you'd seen were a few drawings in your health textbook. In the fantasy, you unbutton Jason Meier's pants and fig. 7.5, "The penis becomes engorged when in state of arousal," pops out of his underwear. You take it in your hands, feeling the weight of it, the girth, and look up into those beautiful brown eyes of his.

This cock is much...realer. It has bounce, texture, even a sound as his hand slides up and down its length. It's longer than the one in that old fantasy, too, and it leans slightly to the left. For years you've wondered what it would be like to see a cock in person, and now that you're here it terrifies you.

"Come here," says the man, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Get on your knees."

You falter. "You didn't...I mean, we didn't agree to that."

"I bought your virginity," says the man. "You ever suck cock before?"

You shake your head.

"Then your mouth is just as much a virgin as your cunt. Get down here."

It's almost a relief to get off your legs, the way they've been threatening to give out. Close up, you can see the purples and blues of the veins under his skin. The head of his cock pulses with anticipation as your lips part, your tongue extends...

You don't think you can do this.

Then his hand is on the back of your head.

You always imagined Jason Meier whimpering as you took him into your mouth. You were never quite able to picture what he would feel like between your lips, on your tongue; the movie camera of your imagination always panned up at that point, to focus on his face. He would let his head fall back in pleasure, eyebrows knit with sensation, lips slightly parted. Now, though, there's no camera to pan. You are here. This is real. And his powerful hand is pushing your mouth onto his cock.

A sound you can't control comes out of you. Your back arches, your hands flail, and then by pure instinct they're on his belly, pushing against him, away from him. Spit runs down your chin, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," you say, looking anywhere but at his face. "I'm sorry, I can't, I thought I could do this but I can't."

There's a horrible darkness in his voice. "I already gave you the money."

"I know, I'll give it back, I'm sorry." The words trip over each other on the way out of your mouth. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have, I just, I thought I could..."

His hand is on the back of your head again, and this time his fingers are curled tight into your hair. He jerks your head back, forcing you to look at him, and his eyes are cold and predatory. "I'm not interested in returning what's already bought and paid for." He jams himself back into your mouth.

You always imagined yourself savoring it, taking your time to explore every inch of Jason's length with your tongue, but there's no time for that now. The veiny, throbbing thing in your mouth bypasses your tongue entirely, forcing past your uvula. You gag, then gag again. Your stomach churns and you convulse as your body tries to remove the foreign object, but the man just pushes harder. Your eyes water as he slides deeper, deeper, making your throat bulge, your limbs spasm. As his balls touch your chin, you close your eyes and try to relax your throat.

He holds you like that. You gag for a third time, and thick saliva explodes through the gaps around his cock, dripping down your chin and collecting in a long, dangling rope. Tears roll down your cheeks as you try to acclimatize to the feeling, try to convince your body that nothing is wrong. You think you've got it, and then he moves slightly, and you're gagging again. He groans, grips your head tighter, and in the back of your throat you feel his cock swell slightly. He likes it when you gag for him, says a voice in the back of your mind. The motion is pleasurable for him.

You've got another problem rearing its head. You can't breathe. It was fine at first, but the man shows no interest in freeing up your airways, and in all the gagging and crying, you haven't exactly been conserving your oxygen. You pat his leg, trying to signal to him, but all he does is clap you on the side of the head. Your ear rings, you gag again, and his cock throbs. Black walls are closing in on your vision. The effort of struggling against him becomes too much, and your arms fall to your sides. Your eyelids flutter. You're going to pass out. You're going to pass out, and then what will he do to you?

But just before the world fades to black, he pulls your head back again. You feel every inch of his cock as it slides out of your throat. He lifts your face, and your eyes struggle to focus on his as you take lungful after lungful of glorious air. Drool spills across your lips, but you don't care. You're alive.

The man slaps you hard, leaving a stinging impression of his palm on your cheek. You whimper. Two of his fingers are in your mouth, pushing on the back of your tongue. Not knowing exactly why, you close your lips around them and shut your eyes.

"That's better," he says.

The first time you saw a male sex toy in use was in an ad before a porn video you were watching. You were taken aback by the way the performer had pounded it over his cock, barely more than an extension of his hand. You're reminded of that image as he parts your lips again, and the rape of your throat begins in earnest.

You haven't thought about Jason Meier in years, but at this moment he's the only thing keeping you sane. As your face rams up and down, up and down, you retreat to that beat up convertible, and Jason's soft, thoughtful face. As the man tightens his grip, Jason runs his fingers through your hair. As the man grunts and growls with pleasure, Jason coos your name. With each stroke of his cock down your throat, each spasm of your body, you focus on a different part of Jason's body: his large hands, his long fingers, his shoulders, his jawline, his liquid brown eyes. By the time the man finally releases your hair, you can barely feel your body any more. The convertible is far more real than the squeaky motel bed. The hands on your body are Jason's, soft and tender.

He climbs over the center console straddling you. You lock lips, feel your tongues in each other's mouths, kiss so deeply that it feels as though you share the same breath. He pulls the lever to lay your seat back, and then he's over you, on top of you, lifting your skirt, pulling your panties to the side.

This is the part where, in the old days, you would have slipped a finger or two inside yourself. But this time you don't have to. This time you can feel him inside you, really feel him, and he fills you up like your fingers never could. There's some pain—they told you there'd be pain, didn't they, your first time—but it falls away to the thrill, the lust, the pleasure. Jason whimpers as he slides into you, deeper, deeper, and you moan into each other's mouths as his pelvis meets yours. You take a moment to savor it, breathing each other in, and then he begins to thrust.

You feel drunk. It's exactly like you always imagined it, and somehow better than you could ever have expected. Each movement of his hips brings another sensation: a spasm in the arches of your feet, a hitch in your breath, a churning, swirling need in the depths of your abdomen. Deeper you tell him, harder, and he obliges, pulling you into him, and him into you.

You can feel the orgasm building, but it isn't like any you've had before. Every time you've ever cum, you've been in control. This time, Jason is in control. Jason decides when you cum, how you cum. One hand supports his weight as he leans over you, and the other slides up your belly. You used to watch those hands obsessively. The way he held a pencil, the way he bit his knuckles when he was thinking. Now that hand slides up, caresses your breast. Now that thumb brushes your hair out of your face. Now those fingers close around your throat.

You know you're safe with Jason, but the pressure on your throat triggers some animal fear response in you. You try to squirm away, but his arm is strong, and his hand his firm. Your hands go to his wrist. "I don't like that, stop." He just smiles. It isn't his usual sweet smile, either. This one is cruel. Predatory.

Your face feels tight. Your eyes bulge. You're beginning to panic for real now. "Jason, seriously, stop!" You beat at his arm with your fists, but he easily takes both your wrists in one hand and pins them over your head. You try to kick at him, but he's already past your defenses, between your legs, pushing them uselessly apart. His grip tightens, his rhythm increases, his cock swells inside you. He's getting off on this.

All at once you're back in the hotel room. The man's sweaty red face is inches away from your own, and the lust in his eyes is obvious. His cock seems to push deeper with every thrust, and the horrible thing is that the orgasm is still coming. It's close now, you can feel it, and it's like he knows exactly how to bring it out. You feel floaty, tingly, and that awful pleasure is welling up inside you, a pot about to boil over...

"That's right," he says, his eyes locked on yours. "That's what I was waiting for. That perfect mix of...pleasure...and...fear." He punctuates each of these last three words with a long, deep thrust, and it's these that send the orgasm spilling over. A choked moan pushes itself out of you as your back arches, your toes curl, your legs wrap involuntarily around his waist, tears roll down your cheeks. That floaty feeling has combined with the orgasm to create something like how you imagine heroin must feel; a wave of mind numbing, soul deadening ecstasy. Your insides feel hot, and at first you think that must just be what it feels like when you cum from sex, but then you see the look on his face and realize that he's cumming too. His grip relaxes and he pounds away a few more times at your now-limp body. You stare at the ceiling as he moans, buries his face between your tits, pumps round after round of his warm, thick cum into your cunt, your womb. After one final push he collapses onto you, his cock still inside you, his bulk crushing you into the bed. You don't move.

He strokes your cheek. Fondles your nipple. Kisses your neck. Then he kisses your mouth, his tongue pushing your lips open, his breath like damp earth. You barely see him.

It must be almost ten minutes before he finally gets up, his limp cock sliding out of you at last. You can feel his cum dripping from your cunt as he puts on his underwear, then pants, then shirt, then shoes. "The room is paid for the night," he says with his hand on the door handle. "Thank you for struggling. Taking someone's virtue is so much better when you actually get to take it.

You don't respond.

You don't know how long you lie there, motionless, dripping cum. Oddly, the man who just raped you isn't the one burned onto your mind's eye. Try as you might to return to that sweet teenage fantasy, all you can see is Jason Meier as he held his hand to your throat, and that cruel, predatory smile on his face.

[readercognito]

Lantern Plankton Migration

Nereus x Reader

(Y/n) shot Flora a withering look, not to be combated with Flora’s famous puppy eyes. But (Y/n) held her ground…For ten seconds.

“Fine! I’ll go to the stinking party!” (Y/n) caved, throwing her arms in the air.

Flora cheered, choosing to ignore (Y/n)’s next comment “Who knew that zooplankton migration was Andros’ version of summer solstice…” 

“I’m so glad you're coming! No one else can, other than Aisha. And I’ll get to show you off as the newest member of the winx club!” Flora said excitedly.

“And here I was hoping to have a quiet Saturday after all that Trix nonsense…” (Y/n) said grumbling, but couldn’t help the smile that shone through. “Well, at least it’ll be a fun Saturday with my BFF!” (Y/n) said, jumping into the excitement right along Flora.

“Right?! And I have the perfect outfits for us!” Gushed Flora.

“Oh, is it…?” (Y/n) said, hyping her best friend up. Pointing to a certain set of outfits in Flora’s closet.

“You guessed it! We’re splitting the co-ords!” Flora squeed. 

“YAAS! But I call dibs on using the top.” (Y/n) said, and grinned with mock cunning.

“Aww…so mean.” Flora said with false disappointment.

And that’s how the girls showed up to the party. (Y/n) wore a flutter sleeve tube top with a tropical floral pattern and a pair of white high-waisted shorts. While Flora was rocking a maxi skirt of the same pattern, with a slit to the mid-thigh and a black lettuce edge crop top. Aisha came swayed over to the girls,

“Well, well, don’t you look like a pair of baddies!” She said, hugging both girls. “So glad you guys came.”

Flora gave nothing but a smile, (Y/n) laughing “Like we would miss it! Plus Flora threw those puppy eyes at me… Can’t ever say no to that.”

The girls all laughed at (Y/n)s’ little joke. Aisha turned towards the moon pool in the center of her family's pavilion walking (Y/n) and Flora over to greet her cousins.

“You haven’t met my cousins yet have you (Y/n)?” Asked Aisha as they made their way over.

“Can’t say I have, I was in Linphea College during that whole ocean… fiasco.” (Y/n) said, shrugging. Waving her arms around a bit when mentioning the betrayal of Tritannus.

“Well you’ll get to meet them now!” Aisha said as the girls got to the pool, turning and gesturing to two of the mer-people within the moon pool “Hey guys! I know you know Flora, but we have a brand new member of the winx club! This is (Y/n).” She said, presenting (Y/n) to the merman and mermaid. (Y/n) smiled and gave a little wave. “(Y/n), these are my cousins Tressa, and Nereus!” Aisha said pointing to the mermaid, and merman respectively.

“OH! So you’re fishlips’ brother!” (Y/n) said before she could stop herself. Seeing Nereus and Tressas’ confused glances she continued “Sorry, little nickname I gave him during Flora and I’s talks. So sorry about that whole thing by the way, it must have been devastating for you three. I just wished he didn’t get pushed to that point, ya know?” (Y/n) said a bit melancholy.

Nereus gave a solemn nod in agreement. Her sentiments (and playful insult) instantly endeared (Y/n) to him.

Tressa decided to lighten the mood, “Ah, it’s all in the past now… Come on! the lantern plankton are about to arrive!” She said diving into the moon pool.

Aisha and Flora transforming into their sirenix forms and diving in after her, Nereus hesitated with (Y/n). Waiting patiently to follow after her.

“What’s the matter?” asked Nereus when (Y/n) made no moves to enter the moon pool.

“Would now be a bad time to mention that I don’t have any spells to help me breathe underwater?” (Y/n) said, gesturing towards the pool where her friends disappeared.

Nereus laughed, it was a little funny to see someone so confident get nervous so quickly. 

“Here, stay next to me. I think I’ve got something for that.” Nereus said gently, pulling (Y/n) into the water.

(Y/n) chose not to protest, even though her clothes were getting wet. She was curious to see what the ocean prince would do. Nereus gently placed his arm around (Y/n)'s waist, amazed at her immediate trust in him, wondering aloud.

“You trust quickly,” he said.

“Oh no I don’t! But Flora trusts you.” (Y/n) said her expression turning serious “Which means you're someone worth putting at least a little faith in.” (Y/n) said, instantly returning back to her lighthearted teasing.

Nereus felt his cheeks warm a bit at the statement. He wasn’t sure why, since most people he knew praised his good character. But hearing from (Y/n), who was such a bombastic and friendly person herself, made it feel like guppies were swimming around in his gut. Realizing that (Y/n) had been patiently waiting for him for a bit he hurriedly placed an underwater breathing spell on her. Tucking her to his side and swimming her into the open water. Which made (Y/n) realize something about the spell rather quickly…

“You jerk! Ya could’a told me that the spell keeps you dry!” said (Y/n) playfully, slapping Nereus on the arm.

“Oh, my apologies! I guess I don’t really consider these sorts of things…” Nereus said, cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

(Y/n) couldn’t help but laugh, covering her mouth trying to hide her smile. “Relax, I’m not actually mad. Now come on, take me to this plankton march… thing.” she said,

“The lantern zooplankton migration?” Nereus said, raising a playful quizzical eyebrow. 

He wasn’t used to people talking so relaxed with him, being a crown prince and all. But he was enjoying it. (Y/n) brought out a playful side to him that he hadn’t had since his brother's banishment.

(Y/n) just rolled her eyes with a laugh, allowing Nereus to swim her to the observation area. Meeting up with Aisha, Flora, and Tressa. They talked until the plankton appeared. It was a beautiful sight, it was like glowing living smoke. The colors shifted with the twists and turns of the zooplankton colony. Everyone was quiet with awe, the occasional sounds of wonder murmuring through the crowd at a particular color shift or swirl of the plankton.

Then something amazing happened, while the rest of the spectators with a large swath of the lantern plankton, a small arm of the colony meandered it’s way to (Y/n). Swirling around her (Y/n) reached out to them, playing with the little creatures pushing them to and fro. Nereus gazed at her, smitten. It was like an aquatic halo of multicolored light surrounded (Y/n), highlighting all her glorious features. Nereus could only equate what he was witnessing, to the magnetic beauty of a siren. Her light hearted genuine laughter was music to his ears. Nereus was bewitched by her, body and soul. Only the lantern plankton hurrying back to their migration was what returned him from his stupor. The tail end of the colony disappears into the ocean waters, causing the spectators to return to their homes.

The swim back to the party was a jovial one. Aisha gushed about (Y/n) and the lantern plankton, since it was something that no one had ever seen before. (Y/n) described how wonderful it felt to be amongst such amazing creatures. And it wasn’t until the trio of girls started making their good-byes that Nereus realized he might not see (Y/n) again for quite some time. It was now or never.

(Y/n) heard Nereus call her over, when got closer to him he waved her down to his level. However when (Y/n) leaned down, she felt lips on her cheek and heard a splash.

“Nereus! I’m so gonna get you back for that!”

[dawn-moths]

"I'm So Dreadful, But I Still Need You"

Werewolf!Dabi x Female Reader

word count: 16,300+

part 1 * part 2 * part 3

(As Keigo closes in, you and Dabi dream of foreign lands, of places where you could be free to love each other in peace. But the hunter is relentless, vowing never to stop the chase until he’s claimed you from the wolf’s vile clutches, dead or alive. So the only question that remains is… who will emerge victorious in the end? The hunter or the prey?)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! title taken from “RUINED” by WesGhost, size difference, reader is called “baby, good girl”, yandere Keigo, character death, some smut in the middle but mostly plot, some descriptions of body horror towards the end, reader is choked (and not in a fun way).

*ao3 mirror*

***

Dabi sat at the tavern’s bar counter, a half drunk pint slowly warming in its stein as he abandoned the idea of finishing his drink and instead became mesmerized by you— watching, guarding, protecting you from afar while you basked in the reverie of your fourth face-paced dance of the night.

You kept up with the quick yet precise patterns of the intricate footwork, your skirts bunched in your fists and slightly lifted to allow you more room to jig alongside the crowd of boisterous patrons, some stray men lining the walls shouting hoots and hollers towards the circle of dancers as the fiddle player picked up the tempo, other onlookers clapping in time with the beat to encourage all of those inhabiting the dancefloor to continue until the end of the song. When the final note rang out, the human circle in which you’d found yourself ensnared ceased its motion, everyone turning to face the outside of the ring and clapping with their hands over their heads.

When you turned, you were facing Dabi, seeing him staring at you from the barstool a few feet away. His patches of pale, scarred skin were bathed in a low amber glow from the lanterns hanging overhead, that entrancing cobalt gaze shimmering with mirth. There were no pointed ears perched upon his inky black spikes nor was there a mischievous ebony tail swishing at his heels. Tonight was the new moon, one of the handful of nights clustered together in the month where the notorious wolfman was free to see what life could’ve been like if only he’d been granted a different fate.

And he was smiling. Really, truly smiling. It took your breath away, the way he was looking at you now, like you were the only thing in his entire world worth protecting, like he loved you. 

And maybe he did.

It was just too bad he’d never be able to make himself admit it, that he’d never be able to trust in that kind of careless hope.

As you migrated closer to where he was perched, you were smiling too, big and bright and blinding him with your joy. Your forehead was shining with a thin sheen of sweat and your breathing was a little labored, as expected from how many dances you’d participated in tonight, but you didn’t care how hot or tired you became.

You knew you had to enjoy it while it lasted.

Back in your devout little town, there was only one tavern, mainly where the hunters gathered to relax on their way out into the woods or having just arrived back, a bundle of dead rabbits or ducks, or, one time, an entire deer dragged into the tiny brick building and heaped in a pile of bloody fur and mangled flesh on the floor at the foot of the counter.

Needless to say, whatever your village had to offer, it was nowhere near the freedom and frivolity this place provided, all the laughter and the lighthearted joking and pleasant conversation between men and women alike filling the room with its joyous melody.

Plus, even though the people back home also liked to talk, it was usually of scandals and gossip and suspicious speculation, so if you were ever spotted so much as peering in through one of the latticed windows to see what all the commotion was about, it was likely word would spread, rumors would start, and you wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to pass the place at night again.

“You should come do the next one with me,” you suggested to Dabi, hoping to entice him as you took his hand, his own instinctually outstretched towards you once you were within the range of his reach, still staring at you with that love-drunk grin. You even swore you could see a warm blush to his cheeks, only, you knew he wasn’t actually drunk. He’d been too intent on making sure he could stay sharp in order to protect you if anything went sideways. And, while you’d tried to assure him one night couldn’t hurt, promised you’d stay out of trouble, Dabi just wouldn’t hear of it.

“Anything could happen when we’re least expecting it,” he’d reminded you, the worry of the prey sounding odd when coming from the mouth of the predator. “And if he shows up, we gotta be ready.”

But that had been a week ago and you and Dabi had already crossed through three towns, having hidden on the outskirts of the first one, been bold enough to break into an abandoned farm house to escape the cold in the second, and then, by the time you’d reached the third— the one you were currently in— Dabi had shed all of his more obvious wolfish traits. And, though you’d had to beg him to let you explore, to actually enjoy some of what this place had to offer, he’d eventually given in.

“Tonight’s our last night…” he’d told you, hating the way disappointment filled your eyes, all the optimism in your gaze slowly dying out like embers in a hearth. He’d put his hand on your head, given it a gentle pat as you’d started sulking. Then he’d said, a new lightness to his usually dark and heavy tone, “So you better make the most of it.”

You’d looked up at him then like you didn’t actually believe him, yet still somehow hoped it were true. “Really?!” You’d exclaimed, glittering excitement refilling your gaze. “We can really go out? Oh, Dabi!” You’d flung your arms around his waist, buried your face into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of pine and campfire smoke that always seemed to cling to him. “Thank you…” you’d murmured, words muffled by his shirt. “Thank you, Dabi…”

And so you two had tried a taste of what other young people did for fun when they weren’t burdened with a curse or kept cooped up inside a house on the hill. You ate delicious, foreign foods. You laughed with boisterous strangers. You danced until the music stole the breath from your lungs. You allowed yourself to live. Because, the truth was, neither of you really knew how much time you had left. Not with Keigo hot on your trail, knowing full well he’d hunt you to the ends of the earth or die trying.

But there was nowhere Keigo wouldn’t go, no path he wouldn’t follow, no choice he wouldn’t make, if you were somehow found at the end of it.

And so die trying it seemed to be…

***

TWO WEEKS AGO

Dawn broke over the horizon, painting the sky in an aurora of colors, a collision of amber and silver that gave way to the pale blue and gold of early morning. Among the newborn buds preparing to unfurl from the spindly twigs on the early-spring trees, Keigo sat beside the final dregs of serenity and watched the fledgling finches hopping among the natural debris gathered beneath where their nest lay.

They would be soon to leave their mother’s protection, venturing off into the cold, cruel labyrinth of the surrounding woods. Perhaps some would survive into adulthood. Others would fall into the sharp-taloned clutches of the falcons or the hawks. Only the strong would survive and only the lucky would evade a gruesome end.

The hunter stood from his perch among the open campsite he’d constructed, the small fire he’d made to keep warm for the short night stomped out before morning’s first light. He couldn’t have his mark catching sight of the smoke. Not when he was so close to his main territory. If he scared the wolf away now, he might risk losing you along with him.

Enough stalling, Keigo told himself as he tested the tension of his bow string, two calloused fingers curling around thin sinewy rope and envisioning an invisible arrow finding a new home between two flashes of sapphire. A wolf might not’ve been as fragile or easy to kill as a finch, but, Keigo felt confident, the hawk would still prevail.

Keigo began his stealthy approach towards the cabin, every step more careful than the last. He was intent to locate the wolfman, hopefully through one of the cracked windows, knock an arrow, and finish the job in one precise shot. But then something made him stop short, his next breath catching and sure footing staggering as he felt a rush of ice surge through his veins.

Because there you were, sitting at the villain’s table, unbound and of your own free will it seemed, given the carefree grin spread across your face as you shared breakfast with the beast.

Keigo could’ve been standing between those mammoth pines for six seconds, or six hours. In truth, he didn’t know. Because in that moment time seemed to flow in reverse, everything that had led him here— led you here— flashing through his mind in bright bursts of violent color.

For a while, caught in his stupor, Keigo merely observed, his hands going numb as they clutched his weapons, watching in equal horror and intrigue as the wolf sat across from you at the table, a snarky grin tugging at one corner of his lips before breaking out into a laugh, looking for a moment— dare Keigo even consider it— authentically human. 

You know, so long as you didn’t spend too much time focusing on the ears and the tail.

You were barely clothed, and while Keigo perhaps would’ve been inclined to blush under less dire situations, the emotion that replaced his bashfulness was betrayal and rage.

The loose shirt hanging comfortably from your form no doubt belonged to the monster with which you’d chosen to share a bed with.

But Keigo, despite having all the evidence he needed to convict you of witchcraft or whatever other crime that having such relations with a monster and a murderer would behold, still couldn’t quite bring himself to blame you.

Because you’d been seduced, hadn’t you? You’d been lured into sin, naive little Eve who’d been tempted by the sinister snake.

He could still save you.

All he had to do was not miss.

With trembling hands and shallow breath, Keigo drew back his first shot and aimed for the back of the wolfman’s head. He let out a shuddering exhale, hesitating a mere flicker of a moment, then let the arrow go.

The arrow struck home in the back of Dabi’s chair, the resounding twang of the shot causing his wolf’s ears to perk up at the same moment you sucked in a sharp, startled gasp. Neither of you had seen the arrow fly through the open window and bury itself in the chipped wood so much as you heard it, felt it, the evidence you were under attack only revealed once Dabi turned in his chair to peer around the back of it.

His eyes followed the weapon’s path out through the dew-speckled glass and between the barricade of trees until it found the hunter. Keigo knocked a second arrow, this time looking much more focused and determined than he had before, and prepared to fire again.

Dabi’s eyes widened with dread as he stood abruptly from his chair, backing towards you as he ordered, voice low and dark with severity, “Run.”

You didn’t think. Only acted. Every survival instinct you didn’t know you had flaring to life inside you as you sprinted towards the back door after Dabi, who made sure he had secured your hand before you departed the threshold of the cabin’s false sense of safety. It was only when you were halfway down the porch steps that you realized your clothes, or rather, lack thereof, and attempted to go back, but Dabi’s grip on you was firm. He made it apparent by his strength in pulling you along alone that there was no time for that now, lest you wish to leave the property wearing an arrow through your heart.

By the time you reached the forest’s edge, two more arrows were on your heels, and as you cast a terrified glance over your shoulder, the sight of Keigo growing smaller in your vision, watching with defeat and forlorn as the wolfman whisked you deeper into the lush evergreen, a small part of you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt.

Because what would your family think once he returned to tell them the news— to tell them that their sweet baby girl was caught so shamelessly uncouth with the very wolfman himself, the successor of your baby brother’s killer?

The hunter called your name, and the way it broke with a type of vengeful promise at the end of his shriek made you want to pull away from this path you’d chosen, something about hearing that level of pain in someone’s voice cracking something inside of you, even if a part of you still knew it was selfishly motivated.

“C’mon!” Dabi urged, continuing to pull you harshly after him, the two of you soon disappearing within the piney labyrinth and leaving the distraught, vindictive hunter before the empty wolf’s den. You realized that the two of you would never be able to return there again, Dabi’s cabin full of little keepsakes, trinkets, and mementos doomed to collect dust, rot, and collapse over time if it wasn’t burned to the ground all together. 

But Dabi didn’t care about the cabin right now. If the hunter so chose to strike a match, then let the cabin catch flame and disintegrate into bitter ash.

All he cared about— all he’d ever care about from that moment on— was protecting you.

***

The winds began to pick up as night fell, the dusk-tinted horizon fissured with the last wisps of pale peach as you and Dabi slunk through the last neighbourhood on the outskirts of the village’s perimeter, the sparse little homes dotting the sloping valley hosting glowing ghosts flickering in the windows, the candles placed on the sills likely to burn for only another hour or so before the residents turned in for the night.

You shivered beneath Dabi’s arm, the precursory chill warning of a long, cold night ahead, one that you and your meager means of clothing would suffer to endure.

“Just a little longer,” Dabi murmured, sympathetic, pulling you in closer to share some more of his abundant body heat. “We just have to wait till they kill the lights. Then I’ll sneak up and steal you something from the clothesline.”

In the dim dark, the breeze made the bedsheets and tunics flutter like lingering spirits. The laundry left out to dry was mostly men’s clothing, though there was one modest brown dress among the damp garments, and though it looked a few sizes too big, you supposed you’d have to find a way to make it work.

You just wished you had some of your sewing supplies with you, even just a simple needle and thread. With that, at least, you might’ve been able to tailor it to better suit your figure. Perhaps you’d be able to procure some along the way, or find another innocent clothesline to skim from, but for now, you just had to find a way to enter into the next town without being too conspicuous.

When the time came, Dabi told you to wait under the veil of shadow that had served as your cover while he skulked closer to the house. You watched him cautiously, stealthily making his way to the clotheslines, trying not to imagine a scenario where the cocking of a shotgun echoed out across the clearing before the heart-stuttering blast of two shots rang out as they tore through the thieving villain and left him twitching and gasping, his blood turning the crisp grass beneath his body black with death.

But Dabi was a professional when it came to swiping things that weren’t his. He’d survived the last decade on such methods. This was nothing new. So, in what felt all at once like too much time and the blink of an eye, Dabi returned with a bundle of brown fabric bunched in his wiry arms.

“It’s still a little wet…” he informed you as he handed it over, allowing you to unfurl the garment and hold it lightly against your form to gauge how much excess fabric you’d have to swim around in.

“That’s ok…” you sighed, draping the dress over your arm. “It’ll be dry by morning if I find a place to hang it…” You then considered him, studied those two pools of sapphire that always seemed to glow through the dark. You wanted to ask him now what? What would happen to the two of you from here?

Seeming to read the uncertainty in your gaze, Dabi let out his own sigh through his nose, pressed his lips into a firm line, then said, “I know…” He placed a soft, apologetic kiss to the top of your head, once again gently tugging you into his side. “I know, but we’ll figure it out…”

When you wrapped your arms around him, allowing Dabi to feel your weight sagging with exhaustion, he returned the gesture, more than willing and capable to carry you the rest of the way if you needed him to.

For a while now, he’d realized— at first to his own horror— that he felt more than just lust for you. He wasn’t sure if he could yet call it love. Love was still more terrifying than anything. But he knew he felt an innate sense to protect you, to cherish you and care for you and make sure you had what you needed to be satisfied.

Whether that lied with or without him, he still was on the fence about, but he was willing to fight like hell to prove to you that he was at least willing to try.

“Let’s find a place to camp for the night,” Dabi suggested, and your sleepy nod against his chest was more than enough confirmation of just how badly you needed to rest after such a long, arduous day. You worried about Keigo tracking you while you slept, but Dabi said he knew a place that not even the hunter would be able to find you. 

“It’s not exactly close…” he disclosed with an apology fringing his tone. “But if we can make it that far, we should be ok for a couple days at least.” He spoke of an old boat house on the edge of the shore, a place where he and his maker used to retreat to back when things in the village started to get a little dicey. He promised to make a plan, assured you you didn’t need to worry, but the moment you stopped moving and you closed your eyes, the rest of his words and your encroaching worries were lost to you.

***

NOW

The time of tavern dances and reckless reveries was bound to come to an end sooner or later, but when just two days after your carefree night of fun and joy Dabi’s signature ears and tail began to show the first signs of his dreadful moonlit monstrosity, it was time to kiss the cheerful twang of the bard’s fiddle and the buzzing warmth of overpoured drinks goodbye.

Going into hiding wasn’t anything new to the wolfman, but for you, it was quickly becoming unbearable. You wanted a bath and some clean clothes. You wanted a warm bed and a hot meal. You weren’t built for the scarcity and savagery of what a life confined to the edges of the wilderness beheld and, pretty soon, even Dabi was beginning to become concerned for how you were faring.

But you’d found an abandoned barn a few miles off from the nearest civilization, which, needless to say, was a much better, safer place to sleep than the open expanse of the woodlands. Discovering the shelter had helped raise your spirits, even if only a little, but there was one thing neither of you could deny much longer, and that was the fact that you needed something to eat.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you promised him after he’d finally given in and agreed to let you take a quick trip into the nearest town. You were planning on, hopefully, swiping some fresh fruit or bread from the edge of a merchant’s kiosk while his back was turned and, while you had no doubt Dabi would’ve been able to pull that kind of brazen mission off without a hitch, he was currently indisposed.

“Don’t worry,” you further attempted to comfort him. “If I see Keigo I’ll turn right back around.”

But, while you wouldn’t admit to it out loud, you both knew that if the hunter really wanted to find you, he would. Dabi wasn’t worried about you seeing him. He was worried about him seeing you first.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” he asked for about the tenth time. “I can just keep an eye on the perimeter, maybe see if I can sniff him out—”

“Dabi,” you cut in, sounding half firm, half contrite. “It’ll be fine, really. I promise I’ll be ok.” He wanted to remind you that you couldn’t promise that. Not really. But you were placing a peck on his cheek and telling him to get some rest while you were gone before he could.

He’d been so close to saying it as he watched you leave the barn’s lopsided embrace, so close to telling you he loved you, but he hadn’t.

Instead, he settled for watching you walk into the distance until your figure became an indistinguishable shadow amidst the trees, wishing he weren’t such a coward.

***

This town was much more intricate and lively than your own. From the outside it had been hard to tell just how hustling and bustling the inside became at the height of the day, the high stone walls that surrounded the place blocking most of your view even from the top of the cliff that served as the outlook at the forest’s edge.

Street vendors called out with booming voices at passersby with promises of fairly priced goods and wares, messenger boys ran to and fro with bundles of parchment clutched in their hands or overflowing from their satchels, busking musicians played and sang in the town square, and there were even ladies of the night already draped over the banisters and leaning in doorways of the many brothels that spotted this foreign civilization.

You had to remind yourself that you were here for a specific purpose and couldn’t afford to find yourself distracted by all the curiosities that shimmered from around every corner and turn. You hoped that if you just pretended to belong here that no one would mark you as an outsider. As a lone woman especially, that could prove particularly disastrous if you happened to find yourself in the wrong part of town. However, just when you were starting to think you’d have to approach another young woman in order to ask for some directions, you stumbled upon the market street.

The cobbled paths stretched on for what seemed like forever, the ever shifting crowd moving along like bees in a hive all with a different intention to their stride. First, before you made a move, you tried to survey your options. A little bit of fruit and bread wouldn’t get you far, not to mention you knew Dabi needed to eat too, but you didn’t see how snagging any more than that from the edge of a distracted vendor’s stand was going to allow you to sneak away unnoticed.

And if you did get caught, you had no idea how severe the consequences might be. It could be as simple as making you return it and exiling you from the vicinity of the city walls or as harsh as tossing you in a prison cell or, what you feared most, the loss of one of your hands, as you’d heard rumors of being the punishment for theft in some far off civilizations that some of the hunters frequented during the herding seasons.

You kept circling, slowly but surely studying each of the merchants until you found one that looked like your best chance. He was an old man, appearing like he was just a few more nods away from falling asleep based on how he sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, eyes struggling to stay open as he kept jolting back awake. His stand was mostly empty so you knew that, if you approached now, his eyes would be on only you.

So you waited for someone else to take interest in his goods.

You were just about to lose hope and move onto your next best bet when finally a mother and her three young, rowdy children stepped up to his stand. The two boys kept trying to chase and hit each other with sticks they were pretending were swords, much to the embarrassment and exhaustion of their mother, while the girl, who appeared to be the youngest, clung tightly to her mother’s skirts until her brothers inevitably began to pull her into their teasing little games too.

The old man forced himself to stay conscious as the woman looked over his fruit— most of which was bruised or close to going bad— and chose some to put into her basket after haggling the price down a little. While she was contemplating, you swept in to complete your mission.

Your heart was beating so fast and so hard you swore anyone standing close enough to you would be able to hear it, but as the smaller of the two brothers began to wail and cry, the mother and the merchant’s head turning towards the sudden noise, you quickly grabbed an apple in each hand, shoved them deep into your oversized dress’s pockets, turned on your heel, and hurried away.

To get as far away from the market street as quickly as possible just in case someone had seen you, you cut down one of the crooked, narrow alleys, hands still shoved into your pockets as if the apples would simply disappear if you let them leave your grasp. By the time the end of the alley was in sight, you felt your heart rate slow just a little. It looked like this path led back to the square, and when the musician’s guitar registered to your ears, you let out a breath of relief.

Just a couple more yards and then you’d practically be homefree.

Just a couple more yards and then—

You gasped as a hand, calloused and firm, grabbed your wrist and wrenched you back. Instantly, instinctively, you tried to pull away, but when you turned to see who’d caught you, you froze, your next breath hitching, eyes widening and limbs beginning to numb with adrenaline and dread.

“Kei—” You began to blurt, but the hunter clapped a hand over your mouth and pushed you back against the wall of the alley, being a little rougher with you than you’d expected. 

“Don’t speak,” he ordered, though his voice was low and somewhat gentle given his gestures. “Just shake your head yes or no…” He paused, clenched his jaw, swiveling his gaze from one end of the alley to the other before asking, “Is he here with you?”

With tears welling in your eyes, you shook your head no. You were too startled and scared to even consider telling a lie.

“Good…” Keigo sighed, easing up a little bit and removing his hand from your face, though still kept your body caged between his and the wall, watching you carefully for any sign that you’d bolt. “I need you to listen to me,” he began, still keeping his voice low, more of that dire urgency seeping back into his tone. “Whatever this is, whatever’s happening between you two, I need you to stop. I need you to come back home with me—”

“Keigo—”

“No,” he growled, frustration swelling before gradually deflating as he recognized the fear in your eyes and that fact that he was currently the cause of it. He took a pause, collected himself, then continued, “No, listen—” He said your name and again something in his voice broke with desperation upon it. “Do you have any idea how distraught your parents are?” he said. “Do you have any idea how fucking terrified they are that their only daughter has gone missing?” When you didn’t answer in the space of silence he provided, he made you jump when he snapped, “Do you?”

You couldn’t hold back your tears anymore, pairs of them racing down your cheeks and dripping from where they met beneath your chin. Only stuttered, incoherent ramblings could escape your trembling lips.

You could imagine it, how heartbroken your family must be, how each night that passed where you hadn’t returned home was likely a sleepless, torturous one for them. It hurt you to know you were hurting them. But just going back wasn’t so easy now.

You didn’t know if you were ready to accept that you might never be able to go back at all.

You weren’t sure what to say, but it turned out you didn’t have to say anything, because after another frustrated huff, Keigo was pushing off from the wall and allowing you room to escape as he scowled at the ground and muttered, “Just tell me what he gives you that I can’t…”

And you didn’t feel sadness or fear anymore.

You felt anger.

You felt rage.

“You’re— That’s what this is about?” your voice was quiet, but the fury felt through your words didn’t go unnoticed. Keigo flicked his severe gaze to meet yours, his chin still tilted slightly towards the ground. “You’re chasing us down because you’re jealous—?”

“Of course that’s what—” He scoffed, incredulous. “Do you know what would happen if anyone ever found out the truth about all of this? You’d be tried and hanged for witchcraft. The church would drag you to that pyre, tie you down, and everyone that you’d ever known or loved would watch you burn!” He let out another growl of frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose as he huffed out a short-tempered breath. “Y’know what, no. What this is about is that you’ve been lying to my face for months. You’ve been lying to everyone around you for months. Probably even longer than that!” His expression changed from hurt to one of betrayal, one of disgust. “And all for what? To protect him? To protect some monster?”

“He’s not a monster!” you cut in. “You don’t know anything about him. Or us. You—”

“Then explain it to me!” shouted Keigo, immediately catching his outburst and lowering his voice again so as not to attract any suspicious or nosy townsfolk who might want to eavesdrop on your conversation. “Explain to me why you’re willing to risk everything— to risk your entire life— all for some— some—” He couldn’t find another word that wasn’t akin to monster in some way, so instead he opted to let you fill in the blanks yourself as he gave a defeated shrug.

You exhaled a quick, curt breath through your nose, then began “It’s not…” you paused, searching for the right words. “It just happened that way. I don’t know… I can’t explain it. I never intended to get so… involved. I— He’s changed, Keigo,” you insisted, looking up into his eyes wearing a pleading sincerity. “He’s not the kind of evil, malicious person you or anyone else in town makes him out to be. He can be… kind and gentle and…” You thought of all the times he’d been so tender with you, all the times he’d treated you like you were the only person or thing in this entire world he dared to hold dear. It hadn’t started that way, of course. It had been terrifying. Exhilarating. It had been something you hadn’t known you’d wanted until it was happening.

And then you couldn’t forget him.

You couldn’t stay away.

You saw him in every flash of blue that crossed your vision. You saw him in your dreams. When you gazed out the window of your little cottage home into the vast woods that lay beyond, you could swear you saw his figure shifting from between the trees.

He’d plagued your imagination until you swore you were going mad.

And then he’d returned.

He’d changed.

And maybe you were still far too naive to think you could truly trust him, but you couldn’t help but try.

“Please, Keigo,” you began again, voice trembling at the edges. “Please just… don’t kill him. If you promise to spare him, I’ll…” You knew that, once you spoke the words, you’d never be able to take it back. But, if it meant sparing Dabi, you thought you might be able to live with that. “If you let him go, I’ll marry you…” You hung your head in defeat, as if you’d just offered yourself up for a beheading rather than a betrothal. Then, snapping your gaze back up to meet his, a new fire blazing within your stare, you added, “But you have to swear to me that you won’t try anything. That you’ll be good on your end of the deal.”

“Does that mean,” he asked, a twinge of innocent hope to his voice, “you’ll come back with me?”

Nervously, you chewed on the inside of your cheek. You didn’t see how this could end well. Because if you chose to return with Keigo, Dabi was sure to become the hunter in pursuit of you. But if you rejected Keigo and returned to Dabi, the hunter wouldn’t stop until his prey was dead. You just wished Keigo would turn a blind eye, return to town with some story about how he’d tried but he’d lost the trail.

But that would never happen.

Not when both the hunter and the wolf were vying for your hand. One would inevitably result in a marriage you didn’t want, even if that meant you’d have a comfortable life as the prized hunter’s wife, while the other damned you to a life of running and hiding, running and hiding, your existence dictated by the cycles of the moon.

“Just let me see him one last time,” you said, feeling your window of opportunity closing in. “Just let me say goodbye…”

Keigo said your name again, and the way it came out as a condescendingly sympathetic coo made you feel that wave of dread wash over you all over again. So when he said, “You know I can’t let you do that…” you weren’t surprised in the least.

Both of you were still as stone in that alley. For a moment, it seemed like only the whistle of the wind and the distant tolling of the church bell could be heard between you.

Then, everything snapped back into razor sharp focus as Keigo darted forward with both hands outstretched to grab you.

He was going to force you to come back to town and marry him whether you wanted to or not.

But you threw yourself out of the way just in time, the side of your arm scraping against the rough brick wall before you were sprinting out of the alley like a rabbit giving chase.

Keigo was close on your heels, but not for long. You weaved your way in and out of the dense crowds, only a few people casting odd looks your way before continuing on with their business, and slipped down another short alley to discover a different way to exit the confines of the city walls.

You didn’t stop running until you’d reached the woods and beyond, your lungs burning and legs aching as you pushed yourself forward yet another wild, anxious step, constantly glancing behind you and expecting to see Keigo closing in.

Perhaps the hunter was skillfully stalking you, trying to use you as bait to lure him to his real target. But by the time you reached the valley that led to the farmhouse and saw not another soul in sight, you figured that you were probably safe for now.

“Hey—” Dabi began as you rushed back into the barn, but the moment he saw the look on your face and noticed how out of breath you were, he was coming over to your side and placing his hands on your shoulders, feeling just how badly you were shaking. “What happened?”

“I— He—” you stammered, tears beginning to sting in your eyes again as you relived the scenario you’d just barely managed to escape. Anything that came out of your mouth after that was incoherent, frazzled nonsense as your sobbing took over. You hadn’t even realized Dabi had taken you into his arms until your terror had subsided enough for some of the buzzing numbness in your limbs to fade and your breathing went from hyperventilation to stuttered hiccups.

He’d been trying to ask you what happened in between attempting to comfort you, but when nothing seemed to get through he’d resorted to stroking your hair and your back, rocking you gently as you clung to him until you’d seemed to return to yourself. Only then could you attempt to verbalize the horrible realization that, had things gone just a little differently, had you not run fast enough, you might’ve never seen Dabi again.

“Ok,” Dabi said, his voice low and quiet, but resolute. “We can’t stay here for long then. We’ll sleep here tonight…” He ran his fingers over your hair again, smoothing down some of its disheveledness but ultimately not doing much to erase the evidence of the frantic rate at which you’d fled town and went rushing through the woods. “But in the morning we’ve gotta keep moving.”

You didn’t respond. Didn’t have anything to say. You could only sag under the weight of the day’s trauma— and all the trauma you’d experienced since fleeing the cabin— and hope that you could trust Dabi to know what was right.

But time was running out.

As much as he was trying to keep the chaos as bay, Dabi knew it was only a matter of time until the hunter caught up with you and the three of your fates were set in stone.

Because whether it was Dabi or Keigo who was left at the end of all of this, your entire world would be forever changed.

***

In truth, he’d let you get away.

Keigo had forced himself to slow his pace and watch as you were folded into the crowd and swallowed behind the teeth of yet another jagged brick alley. He’d stood in the middle of the square, itching to reach for one of his arrows. To knock it. To aim. To take the shot.

To end your suffering before things got so much worse.

Because if he couldn’t have you, why should he let anyone else?

Why should he let a monster lay his claim to you?

You were meant to be his.

He’d seen you first.

He knew, if only he’d had a little more time before you’d encountered the wolfman, that you would’ve been his.

No, if he couldn’t have you, then no one could.

And if he had to be the one to end you, at least he’d know he could make it quick.

He could make it painless.

A beautiful death befitting of a beautiful girl.

And when he took your body, so small and still in his arms, back to your family— When he told them how the ruthless, brutal wolfman had sank his savage teeth into your supple flesh, had stolen your purity, had stolen your life, and by the time Keigo had arrived it had been too late…

He’d still end up as the hero at the end of the day.

He’d become even more revered in your small, pious little town despite not being able to save the life of the pretty girl who lived on the hill.

So, yes, while Keigo had let you go, while he’d lost your trail, he knew that you couldn’t have gone far. He’d find you. There was no doubt about that. But first, he had to prepare something special for when he met you next.

So he walked into the nearest hunting shop and picked out a knife.

***

The hayloft was more comfortable than you’d originally given it credit for on sight. Sure, it still wasn’t a soft, warm bed, but after consecutive nights of sleeping out in the cold, raw wilderness since you and Dabi found yourselves on the run, it was the closest thing you were going to get to some sense of comfort and home.

“Found some blankets in the shed,” Dabi announced after returning from scouring the place for any resources the two of you could use. “They’re a little tattered but should at least keep us warm through the night.”

Suddenly, for what might’ve been the first time in two weeks, you found yourself smiling and, not only that, but giggling as well.

“Dabi…” you began, an edge of sympathy to your otherwise amused tone. “Those are saddle blankets.” When he simply continued to stare at you as if waiting for you to elaborate on why that was an issue, you pushed up from your seat and said, “It’s fine. Either way, that’ll work.” You neglected to mention the fact that you two were lucky to be finding yourselves in such a predicament during the late spring and not the dead of winter, in which case those thin, handmade blankets probably wouldn’t have done much good, but overall just found his lack of knowledge on the subject endearing.

“I’ll keep watch,” Dabi stated once he’d made sure to get you all tucked in and as cozy as currently possible. “Don’t worry about the hunter. If I so much as catch his scent—”

“Dabi…” you began again, much sleepier this time. “Why don’t you just take a moment to relax. If he was on our heels, you’d sense him, wouldn’t you?” It felt like an eternity since the two of you had been able to just relax, to trust in a false sense of security like the cabin had once provided.

“I know, but—”

“Just lay with me,” you cut in, your voice laced with the softness of oncoming sleep. “Just for a couple minutes…”

Glancing over his shoulder at the wide barn doors, ears twitching, tail swishing slightly across the dusty floor, debating whether to indulge you— indulge himself— or do the more responsible thing for once, Dabi ultimately decided that a couple minutes couldn’t hurt.

Even if those couple minutes turned into an hour.

“Hey…” he murmured eventually, rousing you from where you’d very nearly drifted off into dreamland. Your eyes fluttered back open, blinking a few times until he came into focus through the dark. “So… What’s his deal anyway? Why is he so…”

His words trailed off, but you knew what he meant.

“What?” you asked, nuzzling in a little closer to him, trying to bask in as much of his warmth as proximity would allow. “You mean why is Keigo so obsessed with me?”

Dabi didn’t want to phrase it like that but, he admitted, yes, that’s exactly what he meant.

You explained that you’d known Keigo since childhood, or rather, your family had known his— the hunters who’d brought him in after finding him as a baby abandoned in the woods raising him as their own, teaching him to track, to lure, to kill. You said that you’d first met him at the church, that you’d noticed him a few rows ahead of you peering over his shoulder throughout the entire service, his golden eyes always finding yours as if he had something he desperately wanted to tell you, beseeching you with his stare.

“At first,” you recalled, “it sort of freaked me out. Every Sunday he’d be there, a few rows ahead, just glancing at me throughout the entire mass…” Keigo was five years older than you, and back then, it had seemed like much more. As a little girl, you remembered tugging on your mother’s skirts or your father’s shirt sleeve whenever his stare became too oppressive, afraid that the boy had the devil in him and was plotting something against you like the pastors were always telling cautionary tales of during their sermons.

But then, after about half a year of silent, mysterious stares, your parents had introduced you to the renowned Takami family and their prodigy of a son. It was then that you got a taste of Keigo’s more charming side, the easy smiles and polite manners, though something mischievous had always lurked beneath the surface of his laugh.

From then on, your families attended church together, standing in the same pew, breaking bread after service and helping each other out during the harsher seasons, trading your mother’s handmade coats and quilts and father’s extra firewood for the Takami’s rabbit and deer meat.

Keigo had always been enamored with you, had always tried to say and do all the right things.

But deep down, you knew, just like you’d caught a glimpse of during those six months burdened by the amber of his predator’s gaze, that there was something subtly, inexplicably, inherently wrong with him.

“And then he got the idea that he was going to marry me,” you sighed, as if the mere notion was exhausting. “And no matter how many times I tried to avoid him, no matter how many times I tried to brush him off, he just wouldn’t give up…”

Dabi blew out a low whistle, the note laced with sarcasm. Then, jokingly, he said, “So… what? Were you the only girl in your entire village, or…?”

You hummed out a short chuckle, gave Dabi a light nudge, and said, “Sure seems that way…” But then your mood darkened yet again, causing you to add, “But, I dunno… I have a feeling all of this has more to do with you than it does with me…”

The admittance had sort of just slipped out, the thought having been on your mind since your run in with the hunter this past afternoon, your intuition unable to shake the feeling of unease that came along with it.

But before you could ruminate on that unsettling idea for much longer, Dabi pulled you in closer and muttered, “Yeah, well, if he wants to marry me, the guy’s got another thing comin’.”

Now you laughed for real, body shaking with mirth, and you thought of all the ways that Keigo could never, would never, be any match for Dabi when it came to your affections. Because who else could make you laugh like this during such dark, dire times?

If it was a monster’s love that had sunk its teeth into you, then so be it.

You would accept it with open arms, even if that made others view you as a monster just the same.

As your amusement simmered down and your body once again prepared to become heavy with sleep, Dabi remained alert and awake. He knew he should force himself from your tangled embrace and assume his post for watch. And he would.

He just had something he needed to do first.

You were stirred awake yet again as his hands slowly began to wander, the shape of his palm and the press of his fingertips a familiar, welcome thing. And, while you wanted to get some much needed rest, you also wanted whatever he had in store for you as well.

Because how long had it been now since you’d had enough time to partake in these kinds of pleasures?

You were pretty sure you’d lost count.

But, this time, Dabi decided, he was going to be soft with you. If this was the last time he might ever get to have you like this, the last time he’d ever get to have anyone like this, if Keigo succeeded in finally killing the infamous wolfman like he so desperately aspired to, then he wanted you to remember him as gentle, as more than the monster that the myths portrayed him to be.

With the two of your bodies pressed close, limbs loosely entangled as you shifted slightly, as if gently turning in sleep, he nudged his nose against yours, those blazing blues at half-mast as he drank in the sight of you so vulnerable and tender beside him. When your eyes fluttered back open, slowly blinking him back into focus, you leaned forward, lazily chasing after his lips for a kiss. Normally, he would’ve denied you. Would’ve teased you until you were practically begging for any and everything he would give you. But now, tonight, Dabi was content to oblige you.

Like a dying man’s last meal, he was going to savor every kiss, every touch, every inch of your skin until there was nothing left to give. Nothing left to take.

He was going to draw it out.

He was going to make it last so, when the hunter finally came for him, he’d have no regrets if the worst befell him.

Your lips first met with a soft, chaste touch, the ghost of affection reaching out between each other in a silent plea for more. You felt his fingers flex where they gripped your waist, tugging you just that much closer to him, wanting to have you so close he could feel your heartbeat against his skin, so close that your pulse and his own became indistinguishable.

When his tongue gave a gentle suggestion for you to part your lips for him, you obeyed, melting further into the kiss as you hummed out a sated sigh, a breathy moan working its way up your throat. As you relearned the shape of each other’s mouths, rememorized the taste, Dabi’s hands began to wander some more, mapping out the familiar curves of your body as he so liked to do, his fingertips rough but the touch itself gentle, delicate.

You sucked in a small gasp when he groped at your ass, feeling his lips split into a smirk as one of those sultry chuckles escaped him. He couldn’t help but find your reactions to such things amusing yet adorable. It was like you were his helpless little virgin all over again. It made him hard just thinking about it, that first night he’d had you.

He began to strip you of your clothes, the bundle of oversized brown fabric gathered around your waist while he pressed a kiss to your hip, your tummy, then pushed up higher to expose the soft curve of your breasts to him, nipples pebbling as the cool night air brushed up against your skin, then over your head and discarded completely in a pile off to the side, Dabi pulling his own shirt over his head to expose the expanse of his chest, pale and etched deep with scars, just as lovely as you remembered him to be.

With a knee between your legs, he gave one of them a nudge as means of encouragement to open for him, his hands aiding in getting you the rest of the way there when you seemed to suddenly become a little shy.

As his head lowered between your spread legs a shiver wracked through you, a tremor of anticipation at the magic, be it witchcraft or a miracle, that he had a habit of placing upon you with his fingers and tongue. His warm breath fanned over your wet cunt, causing you to whine when you felt just how soaked you’d become, raising a palm to cover your mouth as your face grew hot with the humiliation, muffling your next precursory moan. But that was when Dabi stopped, just inches from tasting you, moments from delivering you the most divine pleasure you’d known, raising his head and appearing above you again, lightly taking your wrist in his grip and tugging it free from your mouth.

“No,” he stated, plain and simple, yet still retaining that err of gentleness that he was becoming more accustomed to displaying around you. “Don’t try to hide it. I want to hear you, understand?” Despite your face growing hotter still, you swallowed down your apprehension and nodded for him. “Good girl,” he praised you, slowly retracing his descent down towards where you were most needy for attention. Then, as if talking only to himself, he muttered, “I wanna hear you when you come for me,” and upon hearing those words you felt your little hole flutter, your belly clenching just at the thought of what you knew it would feel like once he was buried deep inside you, the sensation all too familiar yet, at the same time, always feeling like nothing could’ve prepared you for it beforehand, the ecstasy created by your two bodies becoming one stronger and more potent than any other brand of euphoria the world could offer.

You let out a broken mewl as his long, slick tongue began lightly teasing at your dewy folds, gathering more of your arousal as he made you obscenely drenched with his spit, taking his time to flick the tip of his tongue along your sensitive little bud, making you jolt and writhe, wrestling you still with his arms looped snugly around your thighs. Your melody of moans and whimpers only ever made him desperate to hear them more, engaging in the skillful dance of bringing you right up to that edge but always pulling you back before you tumbled over.

“You’re being mean—” you lightly chided, a feeble quiver to your quiet voice, the teasing soon becoming too much.

But, at this, Dabi only chuckled, placing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, stroking the other with the pad of his thumb as he rested his head against it. Gazing up at you with glittering eyes, he cooed, “Promise I’ll make it worth it, baby…” Another kiss, this time closer to your soaked core, caused you to flinch. “Besides…” He began to leave languid kisses up your body, shifting his position to reach your tummy, your chest, your collarbones, your neck. When he was face to face with you again, the sight of your arousal shining on his chin making your stomach clench yet again, he said, “Don’t I always?”

But he didn’t give you time to answer before diving back into his ministrations, his tongue lolling out to lav at your perked nipples, making you moan and arch further into the warmth of his mouth, Dabi lightly tugging at one of the furled buds with his teeth, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to hear you give him one of those cute little gasps again, balancing on the precipice of fear.

After he’d coated both of you breasts with his saliva, making nearly as much of a mess of you as you’d made of him, Dabi’s kisses once more made the migration towards your neck, sucking a few dark bruises into that tender flesh, your grip tightening around his biceps as a wave of goosebumps raced across your skin, your breath stuttering at the sensation.

Then he was coaxing your mouth back open for him, taking a moment to hover there, to taste each exhale that leapt from your lungs. The kiss he gave you next was sloppy and open-mouthed, and you could taste the salty tang of yourself on his tongue now, only distracted from the flavor when you felt two of his long, lithe fingers glide through the glistening petals of your pussy before slipping inside of you, pumping in and out, slow and steady, before beginning to scissor you open wider in preparation.

“Hurts—” you hissed when he stretched you a little too far a little too fast, but the feeling of your cunt trying to suck his fingers in deeper, the way your silky walls clenched around them as if in hopes of holding them prisoner, only made him that much more painfully hard. He could already feel himself leaking through his trousers. He was just as needy as you were, only better at hiding it.

“I know, baby…” he cooed, unable to keep some of that saccharine condensation from fringing his raspy tone. “But you’re doing so good for me…” Another kiss placed to your temple as he reached into his waistband and took hold of his cock, feeling it pulse against his palm when the cool night air hit the velvety length of him. He didn’t waste time lining himself up, his other hand stroking gentle lines along your hip. “You’re always so good for me.”

You half expected him to bury himself to the hilt with one harsh thrust, as he sometimes had a habit of doing, but tonight, as he’d already decided, he was going to take his time with you. So, inch by inch, he sunk deeper into your slick heat, sucking in a hiss through clenched teeth when your little nails bit into his back at the sting of the stretch, your delicate skin breaking in fragile fissures as his cock split you in two.

Once he was fully inside, both of your bare chests pressed close, Dabi gave you a moment to adjust to the feeling of him stuffing you full, but before he could move, you made a request of him.

“It hurts a little,” you said, then further clarified, “The hayloft. It hurts my back. Can we…?” But before you’d even finished your question he was carefully propping you up, helping to hold you into a position that allowed you to straddle his lap, the shift making you wince a little as his length nudged against your cervix, but you definitely felt more comfortable now than you had laying back against the rough wooden surface.

Letting out a soft chuckle as he picked pieces of straw from where they stuck in your hair, Dabi asked, “Better?” and you nodded, adjusting your position just a little bit more before you felt like you were in the perfect spot to take him. As he began, he kept a strong palm pressed to the small of your back for support, your little hands gripping his shoulders and becoming tighter the more he fucked into you, urging you to ride him to the best of your ability, and you did all that you could to match his pace. But, as always, eventually he became relentless, hips meeting yours with ruthless stamina, drinking in every cry or yelp or moan you would grant him, soaking up every clench of your cunt around his cock until, finally, he came, his body shuddering as a breathy moan was punched from his chest, filling you to the brim with his sticky warmth. But he wasn’t done with you yet. He wasn’t done until he’d made you come, made you gush all over his cock, coating him in so much of your love and your lust that he swore he’d never be able to clean it all away. 

Rubbing some more of those torturously skillful circles on your swollen little clit, Dabi soon worked you over that sharp edge, feeling your body tremble and tense before your weight sagged against him, your shallow, panting breaths gradually returning to something much more even and controlled.

Normally, he’d take this time after to clean you up, to lay with you as he watched you drift off to sleep, only then daring to fall unconscious himself. But out here, in this unfamiliar and unequipped place, there wasn’t much he could do besides wipe the excess of your shared arousal that drooled in thick globs from your sore little hole with the edge of one of the blankets, murmuring promises of the life he’d create for the two of you once you’d escaped the hunter’s grasp as you feel unconscious. 

He’d build you a house. One with a fireplace and a balcony and a back porch. He’d build you a bed. One with four posts and a canopy and a quilt. You’d have a wardrobe full of the finest clothes money could buy, making a living by selling your handcrafted sundries in the market of the nearest town. Your world would smell like honey and pine. You’d spend your days surrounded by the trees and the songs of the birds. You’d get married in the backyard in a wedding dress you’d made by hand, freshly picked poppies adorning Dabi’s makeshift lapel, trading matching rings carved of oak or birch or stone. He’d make love to you on that bed he’d built, on that quilt you’d sewn, every night leading up to the full moon.

You’d bake bread.

He’d hunt deer.

You’d be safe.

You’d be happy.

You’d be his.

But first, before the house and the honey and the hunting of the deer, there was one thing Dabi knew he had to do in order to make even half of that fantasy possible.

He had to kill Keigo.

He had to pave the way for a world where not a single hunter would follow in pursuit of you.

***

The blade caught the morning’s glow, sunlight on silver a burst of blinding light.

Keigo couldn’t help but admire its pristine shine, the flawless edge of its craftsmanship, the way he could view his reflection in it, the amber of his eyes cutting across the weapon wearing determination but also something sorrowful.

He didn’t want to kill you. Truly, he didn’t. If Keigo got his way, you’d finally see reason once the demon who’d tempted you had been slain. You’d come to your senses. You’d accept his offer to return with him and take his hand in marriage.

You’d choose the path that let you live, left your family pleased, and ensured that Keigo had you all to himself.

He could give you a good life.

He would give you a good life.

All you had to do was let him.

And if not, well…

Keigo had always thought you looked best in the color red.

***

The countryside by the shore was comfortingly desolate, the hills sprawling out in every direction as far as the eye could see until the rolling waves of the ocean crept up to meet them. The breeze tasted of salt and the lingering smoke from the small campfire that had just been stomped out.

The old boat house stood on the border between the sand and the seagrass, the exterior half rotted by the caress of the brine, flecks of once-white paint hanging onto the planks for dear life, the decaying wood turned a pale shade of teal. 

It was so quiet out here, not another soul for miles beyond the seagulls that circled come high noon.

You’d never seen the ocean before, your little village too far inland to ever make the journey, even by horse, so you found much comfort and wonder by simply sitting in the soft sand and staring out at the froths of foam lining the waves far off in the distance, nothing but water meeting sky. It gave you time to think, to really put some things into perspective.

You and Dabi had been on the run for over two weeks now. You’d traveled so far, seen so much, and the further you distanced yourself from home, the less you found yourself wanting to go back.

“We could do it, y’know…” he’d said the first night you’d arrived, the crumbling little structure one of his maker’s old hideouts.  “We could head south to the ports. Sneak onto a boat…” He’d gone from gazing at the stars to gazing at you, those half-lidded blues sparkling as if he’d reached up into the constellations and plucked down two of the stars just for you. “See where it takes us…”

You’d hugged your knees up to your chest, turned your view back to the expanse of black sky above, and tried to contemplate what that would be like.

A new country.

A new life.

No one to chase you, at least, for a little while.

But maybe then you could put down some roots, still away from the center of society, of course, but you could create a life where you wouldn’t have to live day by day, hour by hour.

Though now, as the sun rose on a new dawn, you wondered how many days you had left.

“How long have you been awake?”

You turned as Dabi’s voice registered to you. He was standing on the porch that sagged under the weight of every pace, each step surely the last one it would take to cause the whole thing to crumble as it creaked and groaned beneath his feet. He had a moth-eaten blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, the nights out here so much colder than what the dense forest provided.

Dragging one of your bare feet across the sand, you carved a smooth arc out before you as you sighed. “Maybe an hour,” you responded, your voice just loud enough for him to hear with the couple of meters between you. You were about to approach him but then he was the one closing the gap, coming down to join you on the soft, cool sand.

“I was worried,” he admitted, now standing before you, close enough to reach out and touch. “I thought maybe he’d…” and his words trailed off. But you didn’t need him to finish the thought to understand.

“Sorry…” you whispered, feeling the threat of tears prickling in the back of your nose. “It’s just—”

Dabi pulled you in close to his chest, wrapped you up in the thin blanket along with him, and he murmured into your hair after a shuddering sigh, “It’s fine. It’s just…” He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to say it out loud. How he’d thought the hunter had come and stolen you in the night. But he really should’ve known better.

Had Keigo come around, he would’ve ensured that Dabi never got the chance to wake up ever again.

“Once we get through the next full moon,” Dabi concluded, “we’ll head to the ports.”

And so it was decided.

The next full moon was two days from now— you’d grown accustomed to reading its phases based on the current state of Dabi’s wolfishness alone over these past few weeks— so that didn’t leave much time.

Not for you to decide whether you were truly ready to turn your back on everything you’d ever known and plunge into the uncertainty of what a future with Dabi would hold, or decide this was all too much too fast and return to the damning familiarity of had once been your normal day to day.

You’d tasted freedom.

You were so close to grabbing it with both hands and swallowing it whole.

How could you give that up?

How could you forget all of that in just forty-eight hours?

Though, for Keigo, forty-eight hours was more than enough time to take some drastic measures.

It was also more than enough time for him to catch up.

“The ports…” you repeated, your words sounding far off to your own ears, as if you were hearing them in a dream. It seemed almost impossible to you, this plan that Dabi felt so sure would work. And Dabi, well…

He was just hoping he could convince you to cross the border before you changed your mind.

Once he got you on that boat— currently speculating that stowing away on a cargo ship would be your best bet, even if the journey could take days or maybe even weeks until it reached the next port, Dabi sneaking out at night to maneuver around watch patrols as he sniffed out any food that he could steal— and whisked you away from this place, escaped the hunter who swore he’d pursue the two of you to the ends of the earth…

Only then would he feel like he’d won.

Only then would he let himself believe that he’d be able to have you forever.

“Don’t worry,” he was telling you again, placing a kiss to the crown of your head as he stroked gentle patterns down your back, his palm warm through your clothes, a welcome reprieve from the chilly sea air. “I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you.”

It was the only lie he couldn’t bring himself to stop telling.

He thought that, if he said it enough, it would become true.

You turned in his arms, your back pressed to his chest, so you could once again face the sea.

Those waves both beckoned and terrified you, pulling you in with every frill of foam lapping at the shore, yet pushing you further away with the hiss of its rhythmic ambience.

Once you crossed that water you’d never be able to come back. You’d only have Dabi and the moon and whatever little life the two of you could manage to make for yourselves after that.

And so you asked yourself…

Would that be enough?

“I know…” you told him, your voice so fragile, so small and trembling, when you wanted nothing more than to look him in the eyes, so firm and resolute, and give him that answer with your whole chest. With your whole heart.

You wanted nothing more than to believe that, no matter what stood in your way, as long as you had each other, nothing could break you apart.

Nothing could hurt you.

No one could take you away from him again.

Yet, every time you closed your eyes, you saw it— that flash of tawny and gold. It haunted your nightmares, crept up behind you between every shadow or sudden movement out of the corner of your eye.

You didn’t want Keigo to die. Not really.

But, you were coming to accept, there might be no other way.

It was going to be him or Dabi.

You didn’t need to take the time to figure out which one you most wanted to fall into the arms of once all was said and done.

***

When Keigo could taste the salt in the air, he knew the sea couldn’t be far. He quickened his pace, the sting of the open blisters on his feet and the pain twisting in his stomach after three days without a meal no longer registering to him once the thought that the wolf could’ve already stolen you away across the water struck him.

Or maybe he’d arrive to find your body strewn across the shore, your blood being licked at by the waves.

He thought he’d prefer the latter. At least then he’d have closure.

At least then, he wouldn’t have to do it himself.

And if he was lucky enough to discover the two of you still there, what would he do?

There would be nowhere to hide. He might be able to finish things once and for all, if he was able to knock an arrow and aim for the heart faster than the wolfman could sink his fangs into the hunter’s soft human throat.

He was so close he could feel it in his bones, this insatiable ache for something he couldn’t quite describe. Perhaps it was the thrill of the hunt calling to him, this new, intelligent prey so enticing to a man who’d pursued the same game ever since his father before him had handed the little boy a knife and a bow and taught him how to kill. He’d learned to get into the mind of his targets, able to trace the path of their steps as if they were his own. With the two of you, he’d been kept on his toes, always trying to predict what you’d do or where you’d go next but unable to get three steps ahead like he was used to.

The swish of the waves mingled with the whistle of the breeze, and when Keigo could tell the two apart, he knew he had to keep moving. He would reach the sea tonight. He would face whatever awaited him at that shore.

When the boathouse appeared in the distance, at first Keigo didn’t let himself believe it, figuring that he’d somehow dozed off and was caught in a dream. Or maybe he was delirious from lack of sleep and food and was wandering aimlessly towards some sort of mirage. But the closer he trudged, the bigger that crooked hut became and he knew it was all too real.

He drew his knife, slinking up to the side of the little house and listening for any signs of life. It was silent, so he thought fuck it and tried the front door.

Keigo winced when it opened with a creak, his body going still and he anticipated an attack. But when nothing came, he gathered up the courage to travel further into the house, going room by room, of which there were only four, and expecting to find a pair of glowing blue eyes peering at him around every turn.

But the boathouse was empty, as far as Keigo could tell.

All that was left behind was a tattered shawl and some empty crab husks.

***

The morning before the full moon, you and Dabi headed south. It would be easier to catch a boat if you weren’t running on at the last minute, and this way you could sneak on under the cover of night when there would be less people around. A few towns back, on the way to the shore, Dabi had found himself a long, stiff piece of fabric that could pass as a cloak to hide his wolfishness. The plan was, if anyone asked or seemed suspicious, you would just tell them that you were traveling with a sick relative who was, unfortunately, horribly deformed beneath that cloak, and that you were setting sail in search of a specialist overseas who you hoped could cure him.

By nightfall though, he’d be man no more, and then the cloak would be used to keep you warm as the ocean’s breeze tangled around your limbs. Dabi would curl up around you, keeping watch while you slept, and in the morning, when he looked just as human as you did though still hiding beneath the cloak to maintain your cover story, the two of you could merge with the other passengers and blend into the crowd. Depending on the length of the journey, Dabi would have to sneak off periodically once the moon became full, but somehow, some way, he’d make sure that both of you were delivered safely to a foreign shore.

He’d find a way to start over.

He’d find a way to live and not just survive.

“Look!” you’d called from where you’d ventured up a little ways ahead, the edge of the forest fading from a cliffside. You pointed a finger out at a horizon Dabi couldn’t yet view, though as he marched up the incline to stand by your side, the sight of the town’s edge lined with vessels— passenger liners and freighters and sailboats— finally revealed itself.

“We’re so close!” you beamed, and it was the first time in a long time that Dabi had seen you smile like that, heard the giddy excitement fringing on your words.

He slung an arm around you, gently tugging you against his chest before reaching forward to twine both of his long, thin arms around your waist. “Just a little bit longer…” he murmured, though whether it was more to himself or to you, you weren’t exactly sure. “Just a little bit longer and we’ll be free…”

And so you made plans to camp out on the hem of the forest until dusk. You sat by the cliff, counting the hours until the sun would set, sharing the meager stock of berries and nuts you’d collected as the sky changed from blue to a beigey gold, and when hints of lavender tinged the edges of nature’s great canvas, the two of you stood, staring out at all the little boats bobbing and swaying and beckoning you on board, hands clasped, hope high, and prepared to commence the final and possibly most daring piece of this crooked jigsaw puzzle of a plan.

Too bad you only made it a few paces before the weathered figure of the hunter appeared between the trees in the distance, causing both sides of this long, treacherous game you’d been playing for so long to stop short, the wolf and the hawk sizing each other up.

Then, just before you could squeeze Dabi’s hand, a silent imploration to him, though for what exactly you did not know, without taking his sharp gaze off the hunter he merely said to you, “Head for the port. I won’t be long.”

Before you could protest even half a syllable or a single sound, Dabi took off running, darting towards Keigo faster than you’d ever seen a living creature move.

Keigo drew his knife and gave chase.

And you, however frustrated and terrified, started in a sprint to follow.

***

With every leap and bound through the uneven path, closing in on the hunter but not quite near enough to catch him and take him to the ground, Dabi could feel the pull of the full moon running through his blood like fire and ice colliding in a burst of cruel fireworks.

His senses became sharper, his reflexes quicker, his vengeance and bloodlust flaring molten and deadly between the grooves of his ribcage. It wouldn’t be long until this curse placed upon him took control and his bones twisted into canis lupus.

But, for perhaps the first time since he’d been turned, Dabi longed to become a monster. Because, when he did, there’d be no chance for the hunter to get away. He’d rake his razor-sharp claws down Keigo’s back, drag him to the ground, and sink his teeth in deep, savor the man’s blood as it gushed into his maw and ran in thick rivulets down his throat.

Just a little longer, Dabi told himself, not slowing down a single beat as he forced Keigo back further into the woods. Just a little longer and it’ll all be over.

Only, the hunter wasn’t keen on playing the part of easy prey.

Keigo was guiding Dabi, bringing him deeper into the darkness of the green in hopes of having a chance to spare you.

He’d give you one last chance to accept his offer and return home with him once the wolf was dead.

If you still refused, well…

At least then no one from the town on the coast would hear your screams echo out across the sloshing water.

The moon became brighter still, cutting through twilight’s haze like a window opening into the silvery heavens, and with that illumination came the protruding of fangs, the curvature of claws, the sprouting of thick, black fur down the nape of Dabi’s neck and along the column of his spine. The blueness of his eyes became bluer still, glowing sapphires slashing through the shadows to pierce his target’s back every time the hunter dared to glance behind him, panic striking as the wolfman closed the gap more and more with every step.

You’d lost their trail long ago, rushing frantically through the dark woodlands in hopes of spotting the imprint of a familiar shoe tread or catch a glimpse of Keigo’s tawny hunting jacket from between the rustling pines. Your lungs were starting to ache, every breath of the evening’s cool air sucked down in short, panicked breaths stinging from inside your tightening chest the longer you went without any sign of them.

You were about to give up. To turn around and hope you could find your way back into hiding and pray that Dabi would be the one who came back to find you. 

But then you heard a scream.

Not a scream, exactly.

More like a low, guttural, raspy growl.

Dabi’s tone echoed in sharp, staccato bursts from somewhere off to your left, his voice sounding pained, like he was in the throes of agony.

And so you took off running again, this time faster than you’d previously thought yourself capable of.

Just before the wolfman had been able to take hold of the hunter, an invisible force seized his limbs, an acidic suffering surging through his veins, lacing through the very marrow of his bones as they began to crack and shift inside his frame, the pain splintering through him like white hot electricity as he arched and bent with the torture of the transformation.

By the time you reached him, he had only a few more breaths left of being a man. You’d never seen him during a shift. He’d always gone away, done it somewhere privately, somewhere you couldn’t hear his misery.

And when you looked at him, even just for those few seconds he was caught in the horrible in between, he could see it in your eyes.

The terror.

And you…

You’d be lying if you said you could no longer understand why so many viewed his kind as monsters.

It was only once Dabi’s haunting hisses and moans ceased that you registered Keigo’s own groans of struggle and dread and revulsion filling the air as he panted through clenched teeth, attempting to scramble up from the ground where he’d tripped as he’d been backing away, golden eyes wide with fear of all that was holy and damned and everything in between.

You’d never seen Keigo afraid and, somehow, that in and of itself was terrifying to you.

“Dabi!” you called out to him, something more akin to concern than disgust breaking at the end of his name. He peered over his shoulder to find you running towards him, immediately swiveling to help close the gap, mindful to let you collide with him and not the other way around, as his current size might do some damage if it crashed into your fragile human form. You threw your arms around his neck, buried your face into his fur, the scent of campfire smoke still clinging to him even in this form, and he could feel your whole body shaking, trembling like a fall leaf one breeze from being shorn from the tree’s withered branch.

A short, breathy whine was sighed out through the wolf’s nostrils and you felt his massive weight sag a little further into your desperate embrace. Man or wolf, you just wanted him to be alright. You wanted him to whisk you away from this nightmare and deliver you both safely to one of those boats, the promise of a new life, a new land, awaiting you. 

But, while you two were having your touching little reunion, the hunter wasn’t wasting any time. He knocked an arrow and drew back the bowstring in one swift, deathly precise motion, the sharp tip of the weapon aimed for your beating heart as soon as you parted from your beloved monster. He took one steadying breath, not a single flicker of doubt or apprehensive shudder to be found.

Keigo had no other choice.

You’d forced his hand.

You’d made your choice and now he’d follow through with his.

Dabi saw the hunter turn his aim onto you, and before he even had time to think he was springing into action, vaulting towards the hunter with his teeth bared as the arrow was set free.

The world seemed to slow around him as he dove into harm’s way, a dozen memories flashing through his head all at once, though still seeming to draw out and take their time. He remembered the first time he lay eyes on you, so enticing and vulnerable as you’d waded your way through the fog, the fur of his maker wrapped around your pretty neck, the look of terror you’d worn when he sang your lullaby back to you and you’d spotted the glow of his eyes through the trees.

He remembered how he’d terrorized you, chasing you through the woods, his cruel laughter ringing out and startling the birds from their resting branches. And when he’d caught you, he’d been even more horrible still, earning himself a bite and a cut from the knife you’d carried back then. And when you weren’t afraid anymore, that’s when things had gotten interesting.

That’s when things had changed.

Dabi no longer viewed you as the scared little rabbit, the prey that indulged him in the thrill of the chase.

You could be a wolf in sheep’s clothing, if you wanted to.

And Dabi’s curiosity of what a girl who was as beautiful as she was fierce could be like— could feel like, could taste like— had ultimately won.

And he’d grown attached.

Because you weren’t afraid of him like everyone else was, like everyone else had warned you to be.

You were compassionate and smart and empathetic and kind. You were so many things that he’d convinced himself he didn’t deserve, convinced himself he’d never experience again since damned to live by the cycles of the moon.

You’d given him a reason to live.

And now, for you and only you, he’d be happy for you to be his reason to die.

“No—!” Your shriek cut through the dark as Keigo’s shot buried itself in Dabi’s shoulder, the arrow piercing his rough wolf’s flesh and causing the beast to yelp and stagger. You watched as the blood shone on his matted fur, soaking it to his scarred flesh, and felt like something in the center of your body had been yanked clean out of you, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

But it would take more than one measly arrow to kill the werewolf, and when Dabi turned his gaze back onto the hunter, his lips pulled up in a vicious snarl to reveal two rows of sharp teeth, he glared with every ounce of hate he’d ever felt for anyone or anything in this world. Yet, at the same time, he was relieved. Because he’d much rather it be him than you who had to experience such pain. Besides, Dabi was no stranger to the sensation. It had been a while, yes, but it greeted him like an old friend.

And now, Dabi would relish in introducing Keigo to this bitter acquaintance.

Keigo took aim once more, firing off another arrow that, that time, missed the beast by only a hair, merely grazing along its side as it lunged at the hunter. Keigo threw himself out of the way, his full weight hitting the ground with a thud before frantically rolling away as the wolf snapped its razor-toothed jaw where his neck had been just a moment ago.

You’d fallen to your knees, the cool earth curling its damp tendrils around your bare legs, creeping up and up and up until the chill seemed to seep into your brain, leaving you frozen and helpless to watch everything that was about to unfold, the cruel crescendo of these past weeks— this past year— finally coming to a close.

The blonde was springing back to his feet with another arrow at the ready before Dabi could attempt his next strike, and the following, from what you could see, was a tangle of claw and limb, black and beige caught up in a deadly, face-paced dance.

The tears running down your cheeks had stopped flowing, leaving behind salty, shimmering streaks, your eyes wide with fear and hurt and anticipation.

The hunter was holding his ground, even in such close proximity, but what Dabi didn’t know was that this was all going according to Keigo’s plan.

Just a little closer, the hunter hoped. And, with one more luring motion, he had the wolf within his circle.

Keigo drew the knife, raised it above his head, then plunged all eight inches of the silver blade down into the werewolf’s back.

The sound that Dabi let out wasn’t quite a howl, wasn’t quite a scream, but something caught in between the realms of monster and man. You felt a pain in your chest upon hearing that sound, letting out one last hiccuping sob before your body truly had no more grief left to give. You couldn’t even call out his name, to let him hear it with your broken voice one last time.

The wolf went still, sagging heavier against the blood-soaked earth, and the hunter, satisfied with finally claiming such a victory, hoisted himself up to stand using the blade’s handle as leverage, sinking it just that much further into his prize’s flesh. When he did it, he locked eyes with you, the gold of his stare suddenly a much muddier shade, rusted over with apathy and scorn.

But when Keigo looked over at you, it wasn’t with relief.

It was with contempt.

It was with the tired, heavy realization that this wasn’t over yet.

Starting toward you with a slow stride, boots dragging more and more with every step, Keigo flexed his hands and clenched his jaw, his throat working as he attempted to swallow down the final ounces of sentimentality that he held for you, to let them burn away in the churning acid of his stomach. It wasn’t until he was five paces within your reach that you recognized the danger you were faced with and began to scramble from your awkward sitting position on the ground.

But the moment you even so much as hinted at giving chase, Keigo was on you, pushing you back so that your head hit the ground with a nauseous thud and stars sparkled in your swaying vision, giving no time to recover from the rattling in your brain before he was wrapping his cold, calloused hands around your throat and squeezing hard, causing you to claw at his grip as the oxygen was wrung from you.

You couldn’t hear Keigo speaking over the hammering of your pulse in your own ears, but as your vision began to go black you saw his mouth moving, caught slivers of the murmur of his voice in between your asphyxiation

“Why are you making me do this?” he was asking. “Why couldn’t you have just come home?”

Even as he squeezed harder still, the strength of your struggle fading away more and more by the moment, Keigo’s eyes filled with tears, his chin beginning to tremble as he bit back a sob, drops of his sorrow flecking your face as your eyes rolled back and he watched as the life began to drain out of you.

Once upon a time, you would’ve been the girl he’d married. You would’ve been the mother of his children, the beloved wife he returned home to at the end of every hunt.

He could’ve provided for you, protected you, given you a good life.

But you’d gone and burned it all to ash.

And for what?

All because you’d been tempted by the monster that now lay in a heap among the shadows of the trees.

Keigo wondered how long it would take for your bodies to be found and, when they were, if Dabi’s would be that of a human or a wolf.

He supposed it didn’t matter. His job was done. There was nothing left to do now but return to your village and deliver the grim news to your family.

“I tried…” Keigo wept, his words barely above a whisper. “I loved you.”

It was only half a breath later that the hunter’s grip released from your neck, two bruises in the shape of his hands marring your tender flesh, making you wince as you wheezed and gasped for air, the final shreds of mortality he’d nearly stolen from you breathing you back to life one painful cough at a time.

Once the ringing in your ears subsided, you turned halfway onto your side, looking out at where the hunter was granted but one final scream before the wolf sank its teeth into his jugular with a sickening crunch, tearing ruthlessly at his windpipe with a rapid shake of its head to deliver the killing blow. You pushed up onto your elbows as you saw Dabi open his jaw and let Keigo drop to the dirt, his eyes still open, blood drenching his neck and down his chest, soaking dark into the fabric of his coat, running up the side of his face, staining his curls a vengeful crimson.

It was then that you collapsed, though whether from trauma or shock, you did not know. Dabi was quick to return to your side, walking with a limp on his front left paw from where the knife had yet to be pulled free. He breathed in your scent, sensed your heart still beating, and curled up beside you.

It wouldn’t be until dawn, when the moon faded away back into the pale horizon, that he’d be able to change back. He just hoped that, when he did, you’d both have survived through the night.

***

The sun was just beginning to tinge the sky with all its newborn colors when you woke, your eyes fluttering apprehensively open, the light that flooded your vision making you wince and retreat back into the dim, pinkish darkness the back of your eyelids provided.

Your head throbbed and your neck pulsed with pain, your entire being sore with the aftermath of the night previous. You wondered, for a moment, if it had all been some kind of horribly vivid dream, but when you looked further into the field, your sight adjusting into focus, you saw Keigo’s corpse still lying dormant amidst the grass, his blood congealing and his expression twisted into a sight you had to force yourself to look away from, rigor mortis settling over his once handsome features in a grotesque display of death and decay.

You went to speak, to call out for Dabi, but found you couldn’t make a sound, your voice less than a wheeze and feeling ragged and raw even upon the gentlest whisper. You feared, for a moment, that Dabi hadn’t made it either. That he’d dragged himself off somewhere far away to die. But then you glanced behind you and felt at least that part of your panic settle, finding him asleep and hopefully alive.

He was man once more, having shed all of his wolfish parts by daybreak, though was left naked and vulnerable against the earth, the blood from his wounds showing bright against his pale flesh, new scars likely to form on his shoulder his back, flaking rust still around his mouth and down his neck, all the evidence of Keigo’s attacks and Dabi’s victory staining his skin with gore.

But, as you curled back up beside him, moving closer so your two bodies could touch, wrapping your arms around him in hopes of sharing some of your warmth as he’d done for you so many times before, it was confirmed that he was, indeed, still alive.

You could feel him breathing, feel him occasionally twitch or wince amidst his slumber, you keeping watch over him this time, finally able to feel like you were the one capable of doing the protecting.

An hour or so later, when Dabi finally began to stir, it was with a hiss and a groan, all of last night’s pain resurfacing from its rest as well. The moment he laid eyes on you though, all of his suffering was forgotten, all of his worries chased away.

“Hey…” he cooed, gently threading his fingers through your hair as your eyes filled with tears. “Hey, it’s alright…” he continued to assure you, pulling you in a little closer. “We’re safe now… I’ve got you… We’re safe…”

Despite the pain, you still attempted to speak again, but to no avail. Once Dabi realized this, remembered how he’d almost been too late to pull the hunter off of you, he had you sit up, allowing him to carefully inspect the damage done to your throat.

It would take some time to heal, that was for certain, but he had confidence that you’d end up ok. For now though, he told you not to push yourself, not to speak, that he’d take care of everything and get you what you needed as soon as you boarded one of those boats.

Helping each other to your feet, Dabi instructed you to head up the hill and wait while he procured some clothes. You didn’t protest. You knew it was so you wouldn’t have to watch him strip Keigo’s body of his belongings. Because even if he had tried to kill you, it still wasn’t easy to see the corpse of someone who’d once been so familiar.

It wasn’t long before Dabi returned to meet you, now wearing Keigo’s clothes, the sleeves of the jacket and the legs of the pants a little short on him, but seeing as his garments were destroyed during the shift, he had no other choice. Keigo’s body would be left behind, whether for the vultures to begin scavenging from or some unfortunate hunter to find, that wasn’t the concern of either of you.

You had a boat to catch, after all.

A proper burial would take too long.

So, heading in the direction of the shore, passing through the last remaining town that you’d probably ever see of your home country, Dabi used the last of the coins that he’d found waiting patiently in one of Keigo’s pockets to purchase you both some new clothes and, the real shock of your entire pre-voyage excursion, two third-class tickets onto one of the passenger liners headed east.

You didn’t know what would await you in the next land you set foot on, if things would fare better or worse than the situation you’d just escaped, the family that you’d heartbreakingly left behind. But there was no way to know unless you tried.

All you could hope was, perhaps there, you could start over.

Perhaps, there, you could be free.

***

Hello and thank you so much to everyone for reading (and for being so patient in waiting for the finale). Also, happy halloween! It’s always a bittersweet feeling to wrap up a series, especially one I started so long ago despite it only being three chapters, so I sincerely hope you enjoyed and were satisfied with the way things turned out. Since going back to school I’ve been very busy and not had very much time for writing as I’m used to, but little by little I intend to continue other projects of mine that I’m still in the middle of, so please continue to be patient with me on that. Anyway, I want to say thank you again if you’ve come this far and hope you have a wonderful rest of your day/evening! See you next time, byyyyyyyeee! <3

[thegloriouspapernapkin]

@notartisticdraw a neuron just activated in my smooth little brain and I thought you’d like it

I was drawing more squid parasites for fun and I had a terrible brilliant idea: dude, what if there were different kids of parasite? and cephalopod themed, too, like goulash? like what if there were different categories and they all specialized in certain kinds of parasitic behaviors?? just think about it (cephalopod facts ahead)

- Humboldt squid grow to adulthood in like 3 years, so they require lots of food and often devour anything smaller than them (including other Humboldt squid). They also group together in the hundreds, communicating with each other by flashing red and white in different patterns. there have been multiple instances of these squid trying to drag humans down into the abyss of the ocean. they constantly attack cameras and lights, lashing out at anything new with lightning speed.

- diamond squid. they look like a disco ball. they have bizarre diamond-shaped fins, and use them to slowly travel through the deep sea instead of propelling itself with jets of water.

- vampire squids can turn themselves inside out to hide their photophores from potential attackers, and apparently they can spew this bioluminescent mucus from the ends of their tentacles. it has this weird web that connects all its tentacles, too. they actually aren’t squids or octopus at all, just a funky little offshoot that managed to survive to present day.

- colossal squids. just colossal squids. they might actually be quite calm compared to your average squid, but they have hooks in the little suckers on their tentacles. and they are enormous.

-giant squids too?? even as babies they’re the size of an average adult squid, with razor-sharp suckers that shred prey before it even gets to the beak. they are also enormous.

- Japanese flying squid. dude, they can propel themselves out of the water by literally launching themselves into the air. what’s not to love???

- striped pyjama squids are really small and adorable, but they’re from Australia so you know that’s a lie (they’re poisonous. or venomous i forgor)

- firefly squid. I love them dearly. they group together and create these mesmerizing patterns using their bioluminescence and it is gorgeous.

- long fin inshore squids are commonly seen by divers in shallower waters, renowned for their speed and camouflaging abilities. they congregate into huge groups when migrating, turning the water black sometimes.

dude, there is so much potential for what these parasites could be!! I’m already working on turning the idea of a multiverse full of inexplicable ecosystems like this into an actual story, so this has been at the focus point of my braincells lately and I must stick the words here. but imagine how this could work!!! (totally might use these for said au becasue im feeling silly but idc if you or anyone else takes inspiration from/uses em)

giant parasites floating aimlessly, miles below the AUs just waiting for something edible to fall down, or maybe specifically going after larger monsters. little skittish parasites living off the coast, paralyzing monsters that get too close and crawling inside their eyes. parasites bringing their hosts together in the darkness, slowly amassing a pile of corpses as they crawl out to create a dazzling light show in the dark. i am losing it because of these little goobers asxkjasdasldblasij i just needed to post about cephalopods im sorry

[sunnyyflowerrs]

our song

yuuji asks megumi what their song is. cute itfs established relationship fluff. minor 268 spoilers. very silly and unserious. under the cut! ~800w

Sunlight filtered through the window, casting an orange glow in Megumi’s bedroom. The two of them were sitting on the bed, doing nothing but enjoying each other’s presence. Yuuji’s head was rested on Megumi’s chest, and music was softly playing from his phone as he scrolled through some dumb app. Megumi had a book open on his lap, a new release on penguins migration patterns that he’d been meaning to read.

“Hey, Megumi?” Yuuji said, the music from his phone stopping as he paused.

The name catches him off guard, as it always does. It’s still new and fresh, and with where his boyfriend’s head is precariously rested on his chest, Megumi is sure that Yuuji can hear how his heart speeds up.

“Yeah?” Megumi responded, not looking up from his book. It was a futile attempt to seem disinterested, an act where Megumi pretended as if he wasn’t holy distracted by the feeling of Yuuji’s warmth. He’d been on the same page for 30 minutes, barely advancing a paragraph.

“What do you think our song is?” Yuuji asked, his head at a weird angle to catch his eyes.

“Our song?” Megumi echoed, giving up on his reading act to meet Yuuji’s honey brown gaze.

“Yeah, like a song that encompasses our relationship. I saw a Tiktok about it.”

“You know I don’t listen to music much.”

“Yeah, yeah, you have a soul of an old grandpa and no creativity.” Yuuji laughed, the complaint lacking any real bite.

“Old soul,” Megumi corrected. “What do you think is our song, then?”

“Hmm.” Yuuji’s eyebrows furrowed like they always did when he was lost in thought. “Oh! I know! Hakari introduced me to these english rappers and I love them. I think I might even change my type.”

“Really?” Megumi said, eyebrows raised in surprise. Yuuji took his type seriously.

“Yeah. I’m thinking of changing my intro to, ‘Hi, I’m Itadori Yuuji, and I like tall woman with a big ass, like Megan thee Stallion”

Megumi sighed, “Or, you could just say ‘Hi, I’m Itadori Yuuji.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’m confused. If I’m not your type, then why date me?” Though it was meant to be lighthearted, Megumi did wonder what made his boyfriend choose him. He might be tall, but he wasn’t as well endowed in the ass department.

“What do you mean?” Yuuji said, tilting his head like a confused puppy. “That’s completely different! Type has nothing to do with who you love”

“I-“ Megumi blushed at his blunt confession, and desperately wished of a change of subject before he turned into a tomato. “Shut up. What does this have to do with our song?”

“Well, she has this one song, Wanna Be, and I think that could be our song!” Yuuji said, excitedly. He pulled up a music app on his phone and suddenly the song started playing through the speakers.

As the music played, Megumi just stared at his boyfriend incredulously. “What.”

“You don’t think this is us?”

“No?”

Yuuji shook his head. “Wait, wait, see i translated the lyrics-“

“You translated the lyrics?”

“And here she says ‘if he don’t wanna be saved, don’t save him,’ and isn’t that what I said to you? During the battle?”

Megumi just continued to stare at him in disbelief. “I don’t think that’s what she meant. At all.”

“And here at the end,” Yuuji continued, ignoring him, “the other rapper is hyping her up, saying ‘Go Meg, Go Meg’, and that kinda sounds like your name!”

“Your english accent is horrendous,” Megumi commented, at a loss for what to say.

“Whatever, that doesn’t matter. what do you think?” Yuuji looked at him, now sitting up. He had so much excitement in his eyes, Megumi felt like if he voiced his true thoughts it would be like kicking a puppy in the face.

That doesnt mean it’s easy to come up with a compliment though. “Um,” Megumi started, reaching for anything positive to say, “it’s really something.”

Yuuji frowned. “You don’t like it,” he pouted, joy in his face dimming.

Fuck. That was the wrong thing to say. He was so bad at this. “No, no,” Megumi backtracked. “It’s so … us.”

At that, Yuuji smiled. “Then, it’s set! It’s our song.”

Megumi smiled softly at his boyfriend’s wide grin. Even though it wasn’t his first choice, or even in his first hundred choices, it was still theirs, and how Megumi not love anything that was theirs? He opened his book again and trained his eyes on the paged he’d try to read a thousand times, failing at hiding his blush. “Yeah, it’s our song.”

———

if you made it this far, thanks for reading!! this is such a dumb idea but i heard the song and needed to write them with it, but it was way too short/plotless to go on ao3 so i plopped it here. hope y’all enjoyed!

the song in question:

[goodluckclove]

Migration Patterns - Bug Oath

Our setting: a shitty motel in I think Washington? At like past midnight.

Characters:

Katy Delaney, a non-magic user, soft butch girl failure, perpetual big sister

Jeff Delaney, Katy's transmasc youngest brother, previously estranged, a fireman in Nebraska. Non-magic user.

Fern, a deaf birthright (genetic witch) and former Navy Seal.

****

The whole blood brothers thing must’ve been from one of the chapter books her brothers were so fixated on. Something borderline offensive to indigenous cultures, and yet also detailed enough for two stupid East Coast tweens to decide it was a good idea to cut their palms and press the wounds together. They waited until the first time Katy was assigned to babysit, which ended up making it a super fun night for her.

She should’ve taken them to the hospital. Or, at the very least, she should’ve told her parents. Katy didn’t do any of that. Maybe if one of them started convulsing or foaming at the mouth, sure – but for the most part they just looked smug. Katy handed them each a Bandaid and quietly shared the rest of the ice cream with her sister at the time, thanking her for having a shred of intelligence in her little blonde head.

But that was something Jeff wanted, even that early on in life? He wanted to mush cuts with his brothers in a blood oath like vikings in a historically-inaccurate choose-your-own adventure book?

Jeff rolled on his side to face Fern and idly scratched at his stomach. “A blood oath is a thing mighty warriors do to...to pledge loyalty and alliance and stuff. It’s not magic, but…” his flushed face turned wistful. “There’s – like – a cosmic, universal masculinity to it. Someone else’s blood in your veins – another life in your life, no womb required. For people to choose that – together. I always thought it was powerful.”

Katy’s blood was probably fine. At this point it was primarily vodka rather than plasma, but didn’t people say that that alcohol is a disinfectant.

No, she was only thinking this because she was drunk.

Or this was the best possible time to do a ritual like that?

No. Fuck, I’m so drunk.

Fern tapped Jeff’s arm to get his attention, then pointed at themselves. Jeff blinked, then scoffed. “Oh yeah!” He said. “You could be a blood brother. Absolutely. You don’t need to be a man to value masculine ideals. It’s – it’s like clouds. It’s just up there.”

This made no sense to Katy, yet all the sense in the world to Fern, who nodded very seriously. And after that there was no room for thinking, as Fern suddenly touched Katy’s knee and filled her head with a barrage of drunken, broken words.

We do it wedo it wedoit we doITWEdoitWEDOIT –

Katy scrambled away from the touch, startling Wilford. She stupidly swiped her hands across her face as if doing so would allow her to physically wipe the words from the inside of her brain.

“Ah,” she slurred. “Fuck. Jesus. Fucking – ah.”

“Sorry,” Fern spoke in what they previously described to Katy as a deaf accent.

“No, it’s…” Katy idly mussed her hair, groaning softly. “God, my head feels like it’s filled with moths.”

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and staggered up to her feet. Muttering to herself all the while, Katy went to her purse and pawed through the clutter inside.

Edgar always made comments about how messy her purse was. It had about a dozen different pockets and compartments, each and every one of them occupied by receipts and wrappers. If Katy cleaned out the literal garbage she’d be able to find what she needed so much easier. She wouldn’t hold up the lines at coffee shops while she rifled for her wallet or a handful of loose bills. In a time like this, she’d be able to find her –

“There it is,” she muttered.

Jeff chuckled from back at the bed. “What is it?”

When Katy went out drinking with her friends from the Den, she liked to drink her beers two at a time, using the lip of one bottle to pop open the cap of the other. It was a fun party trick in her eyes, but when Edgar went joined the group for the first time he approached her during their next shift together and shyly offered that she take their Swiss army knife.

It – It isn’t one of the really nice ones, they explained. But it has a bottle opener and a corkscrew. It even has scissors, which I think is neat.

It was a real, official Swiss army knife, not one of the cheaper knockoffs that would do the exact same thing. By the time she looked up the model and realized that he’d given her a seventy-dollar tool for free because he mistook her party trick as an act of necessity, a year or so had passed and he refused to take it back.

Katy slid open the blade – not the largest one that was reserved for cutting slices off of apples when she wanted to feel cooler, but the smaller one that she considered pointless for most situations. For this, however, it would be perfect.

She turned around and held up the knife, blade pointed up. Jeff and Fern stared at her in silent incomprehension. It took a little longer for the dots to connect through the sticky, saccharine murk of vodka and rum. Fern caught on quicker than Jeff and let out a single, satisfied laugh.

“What is it?” Jeff looked at Fern, and then at Katy, and gradually started to realize what was happening. “Oh. Oh?”

Silent in her growing pride, Katy just walked to the dingy bathroom and switched on the light.

“Oh,” she heard Jeff say. “Oh shit.”

It was a tight fit to get the three of them in the same tiny bathroom. Fern sat on the lid of the toilet, while Katy knelt awkwardly in the tub and Jeff sat on the tile floor between them. He had his knees pulled up to his chest and grinned with a hint of sleepy vacancy.

“Are we really doing this?” He whispered.

No. Yes. Oh god, my head.

“I’m not cutting my palms,” Katy said. “My palms are my moneymaker.”

“Your palms are your –?”

Fern held up their hand and enthusiastically pointed at their thumb.

“Huh?” Jeff’s eyes brightened. “Yeah! Yeah, thumbs will work.”

“Wish I had a wet wipe,” Katy murmured.

The three of them huddled together and stared down at the dull blade. The lights above them buzzed like an ancient, wise insect, and the heating vent on the floor near the door hissed softly.

Jeff held the orb in their hand and gave it a shake. “I have a little Forbidden Apple left. I could pour that over the blade because, um, it’s alcohol. For disinfectant.”

That didn’t sound right. Was that right? Katy closed her eyes tight and tried to manifest Edgar’s presence, just so she could tap into their judgment while hers was thoroughly blacked out.

In the back of her head she knew they’d be yelling at her if they were here. But what would they be saying? There was no way to tell. Which meant this was probably, maybe, potentially fine.

She made some space in the tub so Jeff could empty the rest of his cocktail over the knife. Katy twisted the blade to make sure it was fully covered, which felt good and also Incorrect. But then she looked at Fern, seeking something, and saw them nod solemnly. The way you might when listening to really good jazz. And that felt – not right, maybe. But it felt like something.

“Okay,” Katy said. “So I guess I’ll just…”

The metal of the blade was cold against her thumb. Was this a good idea?

She thought of her brother’s face, wistful and longing.

Katy thought of Leanne, so young and yet already so burdened by the world.

With a small degree of pressure the tip of the blade punctured Katy’s thumb, sending a rippling shock of pain down arm. Her mouth swelled with saliva and tears sprung to her eyes. She deepened the cut just enough, sighed, and passed the knife to Fern.

She didn’t look at Fern and Jeff while they cut their thumbs. Instead Katy just stared down at her hand as the blood seeped from her thumb and down her wrist and forearm. It was warm. Thicker than expected.

This is what Katy’s blood looked like.

“You guys ready?” Jeff spoke, his voice hush with drunk excitement.

The three exchanged glances that were simultaneously woozy and ripe with anticipation. Each of them were bleeding from the thumb, twisting lines of deep red that resembled roots seeping from their bodies. Katy’s head buzzed. She cringed a little bit, imagining what it would feel like when the three of them pressed their cuts together.

They did. It was not good. It was warm and wet, solid and yet far too giving, like accidentally touching a glob of fat in the grease trap. Usually Katy would try and stifle her disgust, but she was on the wrong end of the bell curve when it comes to alcohol consumption and had no restraint in her at the moment.

Fern made a noise of disgust. Jeff snickered quietly.

“You like this?” Katy asked him.

“No,” Jeff laughed. “No, no. This sucks.”

They fell silent, bloody thumbs mushed together. The whole point of this, from what Katy’s brothers explained to her, was that they now had each other’s blood flowing through their veins. Was that something that would happen on its own? Katy wiggled her cut thumb against Fern and Jeff’s provoking startled gasp-groans out of both of them.

“I don’t know!” Katy laughed nervously. “I don’t know what to do now.”

Jeff sucked in some air and whispered low. “We must take the Bug Oath.”

Katy opened her mouth and had to fight to get out the words. “The Bug Oath?”

“It’s from the book! Repeat after me,” Jeff cleared his throat and spoke with his voice at its most booming and masculine. “We are men.”

Fern and Katy locked eyes. They both turned to Jeff.

“It’s metaphorical,” he explained.

That was about the most reason they’d get at a time like this. So Katy repeated the words. She didn’t think Fern would join in, being that they never had a taste for speaking out loud. It surprised her, then, when she heard her guard echoing Jeff’s words a few octaves louder over her own voice.

Jeff beamed. “We carry the beetles and shield the ants from the sun.”

Katy and Fern repeated his words.

“Sister slug and brother butterfly.”

What the fuck was this book about? Katy wondered.

“They flow through us as my blood now flows through yours.”

She scanned Fern’s face for signs of equal confusion and found none.

“Forever and ever,” Jeff said. “Until bugs are all that remain. So let it be.”

He took a deep breath. Katy mimicked the action without really realizing that was what she was doing. Then they all lowered their hands, and apparently that was it.

Each of them took a turn at the sink to wash their hands. Katy spent the longest there – not even scrubbing as much as just letting the tap water run through her fingers. Thinking of Brother Butterfly and Sister Slug.

Her reflection cringed. How many blood borne diseases were there in the world? Would she know if she had one? What about if Fern or Jeff did?

She turned off the tap and headed back into the main room. Jeff had a large first aid kit pulled out from the truck, and was just finishing bandaging Fern’s thumb. He touched and turned their hand with the most care possible. Katy watched from the doorway and thought about his particular hue of masculinity. It brought to mind one of those vast fields they drove through, something that looked innocuous from the surface but was actually teeming with life. It would be a wheat field, or at least a sea of grass dry enough to burst into flames if it got hot enough.

“Sit down, Kitty,” Jeff gently commanded.

How many cuts and scrapes did Katy patch up for her baby sibling? She used to weep at the impact of any injury, and would only be placated by a unicorn bandage and a barrage of kisses on the top of the head. Jeff, on the other hand, had no problem navigating her cut and making sure it was properly tended to. It was such a stark contrast from her foggy memories that she assumed he no longer had a grasp on that part of his life.

With her cut patched up, Jeff pressed his hand against the back of Katy’s head, bent over, and kissed Katy’s forehead once, twice, three, and then fourth time. The exaggerated mwah of each smooch was achingly familiar to her. In a buzzy, drippy, buggy state, Katy found herself sniffling.

“Ah, Kitty,” Jeff cooed.

Katy wiped at her eyes. “Y-You’re a good guy, Jeff,” she managed.

Jeff grinned easily. He seemed calm, but the hand in Katy’s hair trembled slightly.

“I know,” he said.

The three of them ended up sleeping in the same bed that night.

---

songbird tag! @kuebiko-writing @cartoonghosts

@atlasthecactus @aroaceghosties

@booksntea6982 @xarrixii

@mushroommanchanterelle @inadequatecowboy

let me know if you want on or off the list for written segments like this

[chanis-banani]

hello hello! I really like the fluff campaign you are doing currently, it makes me feel like a proud friend :) I was wondering if you could maybe write a fluff about hiking with jiung <33

I'll write anything for you ~~~ Just know that you gave me an excellent concept to bully you with 👀 (though I could probably do that with any concept, let's be real)

warning: reader has a fear of heights

word count: ±700

I'm sorry the collage got a bit ugly, but what's important is that it gets the point across

Hiking with Jiung was a huge mistake.

It started off just fine: you and Jiung took a nice, relaxing walk through a wooded area. The weather was great, birds were chirping, the atmosphere was nice. Both of you took your time to admire the magnificent nature around you.

But then disaster struck. Jiung told you that he "knew a spot", and that spot was all the way at the top of a dead volcano.

Considering your fear of heights, your first instinct told you to run. But he kept telling you over and over again how beautiful it was and how much fun it would be to hike up the mountain. His enthusiasm made him so cute that he managed to convince you eventually.

So now you were hiking up this stupid mountain while the hot sunlight was beating down on you. Jiung was so excited that he was walking ahead of you, stopping every now and then to inspect a little plant or critter more closely. He only paid attention to you when he had something to tell you about some insect he found.

As you progressed higher up the mountain, you could feel that shaky feeling in your legs. You made sure to stay as close as possible to the rocky walls on your left, so you were far away from the edge on your right. Even though it wasn't steep at all, the height was enough to make your heart beat like crazy.

"Jiung... are we almost there yet?" you said a little desperately. Jiung was at least 10 meters ahead of you, but he quickly turned around when he heard your voice. "Yeah, it won't be much longer now. Why?" He went over to you with a slightly concerned look on his face. "It's so high," you replied hesitantly.

"O my God, I'm so sorry! I didn't think of that!" he called out, referring to your fear of heights. "Are you alright? The path is pretty wide, so you don't have to be close to the edge. Here, take my hand." He gave you a reassuring look as he took your hand in his. "I'll walk on the right side so I will be between you and the edge. Then rather than looking down, you can just look at me instead."

Your heart was still racing when you clung to Jiung, but now it wasn't just due to fear. He continued to hold you tightly as you continued towards the top of the mountain and he made sure to stay between you and the edge. To distract you from the height, he told you a whole story about the migration patterns of the monarch butterfly, which made you feel little butterflies in your stomach.

"I think we're just in time," Jiung said when you finally reached the top of the mountain. "Just go as far as you feel comfortable with," he told you as he guided you past the observatory, towards the edge.

The two of you sat down in the grass together and finally you understood why Jiung wanted to bring you here. As the sun began to set, a beautiful golden light lit up the village at the bottom of the mountain. Even though it was very high, you felt less anxious now that you could sit and it also helped that Jiung was still tightly holding your hand.

A gentle breeze blew through your hair and the air smelled deliciously of grass and flowers. When you looked at Jiung, the golden light cast a peachy glow on his face. In that moment you just knew that you would never forget how beautiful he looked there.

With a feeling of fulfillment, you closed your eyes and rested your head on Jiung's shoulder, soaking up the last bit of sunlight for that day. In return, he gave your hand a little squeeze and rested his head against yours.

"It's pretty, right?" he asked you softly.

"Very pretty..."

"That's why you had to see it. It suits you."

[goldenbeastkeeper]

@witchnordemon

Quiet moments were rare, almost nonexistent, when Valor visited the Collector. Usually the Collector was talking a mile a minute, and when he wasn't, Valor was the one talking all about the Isles, his missions, and, especially, the beasts that called it their home. But right now? Now, for once, they were quiet, watching as a flock of flying snakes passed beneath them outside. Valor was kneeling at the window with his arms crossed on the sill and his head resting on them. He'd already spoken to the Collector all about their migration patterns and feeding habits and parental care and natural defenses, so for now he was content just to watch.

To watch, and to think.

There had been something . . . off about Valor in the past couple times he'd visited. Less excitable, more quiet . . . sadder? Dismissive of any questions about the missions he'd gone on since they last met. And today seemed even more so.

He'd never brought it up before. Never dared to vocally question his lord and uncle, the person that had raised him, the person that had given him everything, the person that hurt him whenever he took just a single step out of line. But the more he got outside on missions, the more encounters he had with witches and demons that weren't directly under Lord Belos' thumb - afraid, just as he was, to make a single slip lest retribution fall down upon them harshly - ones that were free to do their own things, whatever they wanted . . . then the more he found his staunch beliefs in their cause - in Belos' cause - starting to fade. Because "whatever they wanted" seemed to be . . . helping people. Being kind. Fixing up wounds and offering food and having fun. Being happy. Far happier than he'd seen anyone in the Lord's Coven. Far happier than he himself had ever been.

And he was so, so scared.

He was scared that he'd slipped too far. Scared that he'd been enchanted, that they were trying to lure him away, that the thing his uncle had always warned about was starting to happen to him. Scared that it was going to lead him to ruin.

But most of all? He was scared that it wasn't. That there was no enchantment, that this was just how witches and demons were when they didn't have the fear of an all powerful leader quashing them the moment they held any sort of defiance against his wishes. Because that meant they were nice. That meant they were good.

That meant he'd been branding perfectly innocent people for death for nothing other than existing.

It meant he'd dedicated his entire life to a horrible cause.

It meant he'd suffered and caused suffering for nothing.

And the kindness they'd shown was to him, yes, but it wasn't just to him. Far more often it was to their fellow witches and demons. And what reason would they have to enchant their own kind? They were supposed to all be in on it, right? They did it even when they didn't know he was there.

More than he'd like to admit, he found himself wishing he'd had a life as simple as theirs.

Valor's eyes slid over to look at the Collector. His first, and only, friend. He felt like that sometimes with them. Happy, unconcerned. Free.

How ironic. He felt most free in a room the Collector couldn't escape and under constant worry of Lord Belos or Philip returning and finding him there doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing.

He'd been too scared to broach the topic with them before. Too uncertain in these thoughts, too worried they'd tell on him. But . . . they'd made a pinky promise, right? They wouldn't tell Philip, and Lord Belos didn't know they even existed, so if they kept their promise then there was no way for it to get back to him.

But promises were so easily broken. He'd watched Lord Belos break several of them, after all. But the Collector had said pinky swears were . . . the extreme of the extreme kind of promise. They even had to do a physical gesture to complete it. He hadn't noticed anything at the time, but maybe there was some magical effect to it.

Regardless, he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take the guilt of branding people with a death sentence, of hunting down wild witches and dragging them back to the Conformatorium, of watching Lord Belos strike them down before his eyes.

He had to talk to someone about it. To either confirm or deny his thoughts. Anyone else in the coven despised him enough to out him to Lord Belos the moment he expressed any form of doubt, but the Collector . . . Maybe the Collector wouldn't.

So he took a chance. One that could either send him to certain doom, or . . . well, he didn't know what. But not that. Just give him someone to talk to about it, maybe.

He looked away from the shadowed form on the wall, casting his gaze once again towards the flying snakes below them. The flock had mostly passed by now. And, quietly, he asked, "Collector? What if . . . What if Lord Belos is wrong?"

[asynchronouscommunication]

behold, an anatomically incorrect lobsterman! Following the advice of 'make art even if it's outside what you have the skill for'. References: PBS Nature video about lobsters migrating, have exact image i used for referencing tail pattern: Video Here This head-angle from @null-entity 's deviant art. I should have made the neck less smooth line but this is honestly very cramped space on paper and pencil tips were blunt. This photo here. This uncanny looking photo from duck duck go images of the 'Upward Facing Dog' pose from yoga. I regret not digging more through null-entity's stuff first to try and find similar pose since he's got more the body type I wanted. THINGS I LEARNED: - do sketch first, don't start finalizing lines until after I check back with my references. Maybe get references first next time? Idk, I kinda liked just doing some doodles on paper and then going 'wait is this pose possible for normal humans even?' and vaguely remembering it was a yoga pose. - My original concept I wanted to do today (downward shot into water over edge of boat with mermaid looking up from depths holding phone in teeth) wasn't feeling right this morning, hoping to try it again later this month) - doing scribbly doodles for background was fun and I REALLY LIKE THE EEL'S FACE. He's like :V but happy v. Might be fun to touch this up in the future/try to polish it but my first...week or so of may overlaps with lots of work so rip.

[magpiecaranthir]

Hi! Hope your ask box sitch gets fixed soon 💜 Do you have any thoughts or opinions about clothes and fashion in middle earth from any time period and any people? I’m doing a little fashion timeline project for myself and thought it could be fun to hear other opinions if you feel like it 💜

Oh, from what I hear it's not going to get fixed like, ever. But that's fine that's what I have this acc for now :)

Ok ok so you opened a big can of worms I'll try to keep the lid on best I can

So I'll ramble about the Dunlendings first because I have been knee deep into their existence with my recent fics I cant leave my babies alone. It's all over the place bc I got in ramble mode sorry. Also, it's very long lol.

Ok so dunlendings are said to be the descendants of some of the haladin, right? So their clothes are partially influenced by that in the same way gondor is influenced by former numenorean trends and the likes

I fucking hate the movie depiction of the dunlendings. Look at this shit. No. I refuse.

What I will take from that shitshow is the primarily dark hair and the preference for shorter (not more than like 5cm) unadorned beards, and some incorporation of furs.

The dunlendings used to live in the forests of Middle earth, not just in what would come to be Dunland. But when the numenoreans needed wood they chased them off.

Based on that I think they used more muted, natural colours like greens, deep reds and oranges, brown, the occasional black. They preferred light fabrics back then, especially in the settlements close to the shores and further south. They did a sort of tiedye to imitate natural fur patterns during hunting. That's something they do even in later ages.

When they were forced to migrate inland and into the mountains (what would be Dunland) their fabrics in general became sturdier. Thicker linen, more wool, and the likes.

They keep the population of larger predators in check in the mountains, so their furs make it into the garments fairly often. Usually used for children's clothing because they are very much mortal and they know babies and elders need a bit of extra protection from the cold.

Usually they also have ceremonial furs for special occasions (usually any type of bear for holidays of sorts)

And pelts with peculiar colouring/patterns or from mountain lions/wolves/other pack animals and the likes for special festivities relating to members of the community. (Think wedding, burial, birth).

Not everyone wears those to all celebrations. They are worn by the one who is the star of the show and their family, so to speak. Bride and groom's families wear those, while everyone else wears normal festivity clothes.

Those are accompanied by fairly unadorned clothes with sturdy but artful geometrical embroidery, usually around the hems, collars and cuffs.

Belts worn by the males are the centerpiece beside the felt, and are very artful, especially because in my hcs every village has mastered the art of burning patterns into leather. The belts are wide and loose, and usually are made from a prey animal of their formal fur garment bc they believe they should not deprive predator from prey, even in death.

Women wear usually dresses for celebrations, they are sturdy and have several layers so you can mix and match depending on the season. So several underlayers, chemises, stockings per ensemble.

The dresses themselves formal but not center-stage formal, but every single one has a decorative overskirt you tie around the waist. That comes on and off, and the dress is perfectly complete without it. That one has lots of embroidery.

The women in the family usually start embroidering a fabric when the baby is around 5 and shows some character, and its finished when they marry. Jts their dowry of sorts. If no women are in the family/can sew then theres usually elders who are more than happy bc while dunlendings do not particularly care for fashion statements, the overskirts are an expression of love from the community for the girl/woman.

Every day clothing is still muted in the later years of the 3rd age, and each settlement has their own preferred garment and usually pelt of choice. For example, you'll have a settlement close to the mountains of Dunland where the people prefer bear fur over wolf, while a settlement further towards Rohan/south prefers wolf pelt over bear. It's not entirely dependent on where they live.

Also families that havent moved away for a few generations have developed special embroidery similar to family heraldry, which gets more elaborate with every generation bc they take pride in their heritage and survival despite the numenorean's best efforts to get rid of the dunlendings.

I'll cut myself off here because it's already so long lol.

Idk if the dunlendings are something you're interested in, but imo much of these things (use of natural colours and tyedye to blend into woodland realms, use of ceremonial furs and artful belts and hand-me-down dedicated embroidery) are what have been passed down from the haladin people, and adjusted to the current time/living situation of the dunlendings

[grimaticerror]

Get this

White supremacists have a patterned history of labeling Hispanics or any marginalized group that migrated to America as.... uh ahem "retarded".  Bigots realize they are just projecting or attempting to continue the cycle of othering marginalized groups like this to keep their race or complexion at the top baseline of power and they will continue to make any excuse to keep it that way. I've literally been told I was retarded because I identified with something queer by people I would've hoped were joking. Racists and bigots have always been the narrow minded retards, you give them any course material from an ethnics studies class and they wouldn't be able to absorb any of it because of their own disinterests in not serving their agenda and this continues to be a tragedy for education across America as ethnic study classes have been banned in the state of Arkansas due to being ...."racist" towards white people, or as they claim, molding marginalized groups to see themselves as "professional victims," which is just.....🙄 To call an ESL Hispanic student retarded imo is very retarded. 

I went to a segregated school in South Los Angeles that consistent of nothing but black and brown students, some of brightest complexions from that school were never truly white, they were at most Spaniard/Latin ethnic mixtures from Europe and south America. I used to struggle so much in that pre-cal class back at that school, but it was a class you were put in if your grades reflected the potential of passing. That class consisted of my other peers who were in my honors classes in previous semesters. However, the whole backrow of kids in that class were migrated ESL students from Mexico/Salvador who were able to score 90% or above marks on their exams. My pre-cal professor always mentioned if people who didn't even speak a lick of English were able to pass their math class, that btw wasn't even taught in their language for a second, made him saw the potential of anyone passing because of the universal language that is math. 

I took that class, I did my best, failed, and cried about it with my other fluent English-speaking friends. At the time, I was embarrassed for myself but the older me now who went through extreme lengths of bullying and harassment for their marginalized identity by people from high white segregated areas that lived nowhere close to the poverty baseline in the LA county, I'm able to look back with a lot more appreciation with my experiences there, I wouldn't trade it for another school that was brighter in the northern white baseline of schools in LA. Infact a lot of the honors  classes there I felt were so fun and interactive, and I'm happy knowing I wouldn't have received these experiences had I gone to a brighter school. Having attended a white college in comparison to a black and brown school, I now know I wasn't really missing out on that much as I was told by the runaways that came from white schools. 

I wasn't inferior for being part of a marginalized group. I was just surrounded with disgusting bigots who proved they really didn't give af if they were putting down other ethnic/marginalized groups to keep themselves above power by oppressively labeling others. It didn't matter if they had latin or black friends either. It didn't make them less racist, they're latin friends were literally just misguided victims who think they can sympathize with their oppressors. Maybe you could convince them of their inferiority but not me, no, never me. Not ever again. 

[funtomb]

girliepop canon analysis pre-sb.

she's a beta tester. we don't know why she was hired.

she only gets corrupted after she collects all the tapes and enters the room with glitchtrap.

if you collect all the coins and the plush and the mask in the cornfield, you hear her talking to glitchtrap. she sounds scared.

"There's no miscommunication… I understand…" idk chooses to interpret this as him berating her lol!

"Yes, I have it. I made it myself. I think you would like it." the homemade shit ass fursuit! my design is not the canon design

"No, no one suspects anything… Don't worry, I'll be ready, and I won't let you down. It will be fun." CONVINCING HERSELF. also i won't let you down implies that like. william is manipulating her into wanting to please him.

nessie97 implies 1997 is her birth year (slay me too!), so she's 25/26 in sb (2023).

also seems to go by nessie and ness in a relaxed setting.

Viking Blood Eagle Twelve-Month Calendar. blood eagle is a torture method.

"how to induce self-compliance" RELUCTANT. RELUCTANT.

"Did you search for 'help' by itself?" RELUCTANT. TRYING TO FUCKING GET HELP SOMEONE HELP HER.

"One day you're researching flowers and the migration patterns of bees (fascinating, right?) and the next day you type in 'How far can a human being be cut in half before losing consciousness'." for the love of fuck let her go.

"ordered three 'lifelike, human male rubber masks'" bhghgbhbhgbhgb. she was filming a reshoot of possibly in michigan let her be. but i also wonder if this was for the reconstruction of william's body, or to use as a base model for her own suit.

"I had no idea you were into IT stuff." starting to look into infiltrating the company's it department.

also "Or maybe you're just a good listener." yeah her problem is she listens too much.

"I came by your desk to say hi today and I don't think you even heard me. You had your face so close to the screen" clearly communicating with glitchtrap, possibly engaging in ( self? ) brainwashing.

she only got rainbow streaks after meeting glitchtrap. they may not be her preference.

"when you're actually ordering thumbscrews and having them delivered to the office" OKAY. I HAVE TO WONDER HOW MUCH OF THIS WAS WILLIAM AND HOW MUCH WAS HER. ONE OR BOTH OF THEM KINDA STUPID. LOVE THEM THOUGH!

"There's the bright, happy side of you that orders cupcake cookbooks, and rainbow hair extensions, and that glittery pink journal with all the pictures of puppies, and that's great." again i don't know if this is a cope or not, because by this point she's deep in it; i don't know if she was so much a glitter girl before ( though i do think she liked lisa frank, my fuckin girliepop ), or if this is leaning into the opposite of glitchtrap's whole deal to feel like her own person.

"But then there's the side of you that ordered chocolate and flowers for yourself and pretended they were from your boyfriend 'Brad.' … But, Ness, I also saw what you had written on that card. 'Flowers for your grave'? Why would you have an imaginary boyfriend who's threatening to kill you?" is this in ness's own writing? i'm wondering what brad is reference to. this could be interpreted as william sending those ( in which case, fucking disgusting, go back to hell get a job leave her alone ), or her sending them to herself in a bid for self-comfort ( assuming that either glitchtrap is going to kill her or she'll die on the job ).

"I didn't want to put this in writing, but over the weekend, did you happen to create an IT department email address for yourself and use company credentials to reach out to a subcontractor and access their system?" MISS THING ON HER MISSION IMPOSSIBLE GRIND.

"Does _pizzaplex mean anything to you? Whoever created those false credentials also used them to override security protocols and allow a data packet through after it was flagged as a virus." DELIVERED THE FUCKING RABBIT.

"Please just let me know you're OK. There is a package here for you from a fabric company. Are you making a costume? :-)" re/making the fucking rabbit costume. i could say something so vicious about ness's original draft of her costume being a fucking mess, and glitchtrap having her remake it into that tight shit we see in game.

Hi, Steve, I'm with Fazbear Entertainment tech support. Jim filled me in on your concern about a virus, and asked me to take a look at your system. If you can give me access, I'll get started ASAP. Thanks! V_A ok. here's her infiltration plan during the last few emails.

From: Mark Cho It's better than legit. V_A's got the virus isolated in one location now. Not sure why they're letting it linger in one spot rather than just wiping it out, but whatever, it's off our systems! i actually wonder at this and the point in isolating him / moving him to one location. was it a specific spot?

Somebody just turned off the safety features, I can't turn them back on. … All traces are gone. I just checked again. Are we sure V_A from Fazbear isn't still accessing the system? … I can't tell, I just lost admin access. … I can't shut down the system. all this leads to 'catastrophic system failure', giving ness / glitchtrap complete control of the plex.

vanessa did not go on the company retreat.

[thorntonkrell-blog-blog]

Yesterday, Lynn and I went on what we call the Turtle Walk to get our steps in for the day. The Turtle walk is a stroll around a local man made pond which is chock full of turtles. On an average lap of a turtle walk, we may see anywhere between a few turtles up to as many as a couple dozen. Each lap around the pond is a third of a mile.

Before we hit the turtle walk, we stopped into the grand opening of a brand new Donut shoppe at the end of our street. We ordered a donut apiece. Then we went to Starbuck's and ordered a couple of macchiatos. We decided to save the donuts until we got home. We took the macchiatos with us.

There weren't a lot of turtles on the shore but we saw on of our favorites, an old guy with a recognizable flap in his carapace. We hadn't gone so far as to name any of the turtles but if were were to name one, it would be this one who we'd call either Flipper or Flapper. As we continued on our walk, we decided that we were in fact going to name the turtle either Flipper or Flapper. We chose Flapper because Flipper sounded too much like a dolphin, too much like a mammal.

About a hundred yards past Flapper, we spotted three geese on the path. I'm not a big fan of geese. They always seem so pissed off. Plus these were the Canadian geese who are starting to migrate into North Carolina. They don't belong here. The turtles belong here. The geese belong in Canada.

I know. I get it. I'm not a xenophobe nor a nationalist.Many species of wildlife have specific migratory patterns and habitats, I reminded myself that bird migration is a natural phenomenon, and various factors can influence their movements and ranges. Canadian geese are known for their long-distance migrations, and they have adapted to different environments over time. While they may not be native to North Carolina, they have become a common sight in many areas due to their ability to adapt to a variety of habitats.

Still, I don't appreciate the goose crap all over the path. Nor do I like the way they goose step around as if they owned the place.

We could use some motion activated devices, some reflective tape, some tall grass or some decoy animals to keep these geese away from the pond. Motion-Activated Devices: Motion-activated devices emit sounds, lights, or other stimuli when they detect movement. These can startle geese and make them uncomfortable, encouraging them to leave the area.

Reflective Tape: Reflective tape, hung in strips or attached to stakes, can create a visual disturbance that may deter geese. The tape reflects light and moves with the wind, which can make geese uneasy.

Tall Grass: Planting tall grass near the pond can provide a natural barrier that makes the area less inviting to geese. They prefer open spaces where they have a clear line of sight for potential predators.

Decoy Animals: Decoy animals, like plastic owls or coyotes, can be strategically placed to mimic the presence of natural predators. This can make geese think twice about staying in the area.

Not only are they droppers but they're aggressive and territorial especially when they're breeding. As we approached the geese, they looked horny as hell especially the big ugly one and I wished we had taken precautions to make their little love pond a bit more unappealing but hey here we are.

The geese saw me coming and as we got closer I got the vibe that the geese didn't appreciate more anymore than I appreciated them. I have been attacked by a goose before and it's no fun. The lead goose in particular seemed offended by my presence. He took a step towards me. We looked at each other eye to eye. I got goose bumps. The goose didn't get goose bumps. Birds don't get goose bumps, mammals do. Flapper wouldn't get goose bumps . Flipper might. Flipper's a mammal so they claim.

We tiptoed past the geese. No harm no foul. I said, "Hey Lynn, I got goose bumps." I showed her the contractions of arrector pili muscles at the base of the hair follicles on my forearms. She thought the whole thing was hilarious and just another indication of how scared I was of anything. I assured her that I wasn't afraid. The goosebumps were a part of my fight or flisght reaction to a threat. I reminded her of how I would protect her if the geese started attacking her like I always did in her dreams or my dreams of her dreams. At least I didn't do a McConnel freeze.

We took three more laps around the pond. My macchiatto was a memory by the second lap. Enjoyable as it is strolling with a macchiato, it took away from the hyper vigilance I needed to protect us from the geese.

Lynn imagined a scenario headline. "Huntesrville woman attacked by Canadian goose. Husband falls into pond and drowns."

I larfed sorta.

By the time we passed the geese for the third time, they had apparently decided that I was not threat although I was still an asshole which is exactly what I was thinking about them.

We got our steps in for the day and it wasn't even noon yet.

When we got to our kitchen table we attacked our donuts. They didn't fight back. Lynn only ate half of hers. She'd save the other half for tomorrow.

XXXXXXXXX

Goosebumps, also known as piloerection or pilomotor reflex, are the small, raised bumps on the skin that occur when the muscles at the base of hair follicles contract. These bumps are more noticeable in some animals, like geese, where they make the feathers stand on end. In humans, goosebumps are a vestigial reflex that serves a different purpose.

Goosebumps are triggered by various stimuli, such as cold temperatures or strong emotions like fear or excitement. The reflex occurs when the tiny muscles at the base of hair follicles, known as arrector pili muscles, contract. When these muscles contract, they cause the hair follicles to stand upright, which, in turn, leads to the raised appearance of the skin. This reflex has less functional significance in humans compared to many other animals, as our body hair is not as dense, and the insulation effect is limited.

The primary evolutionary purpose of goosebumps in humans is thought to be related to our ancestors. When they were covered in thicker body hair, the raised hair would have trapped more air, providing better insulation and warmth when they were cold. This would help to make the individual appear larger when threatened by a predator (a response similar to that seen in animals with fur or feathers).

In modern humans, the reflex still occurs, but it has a less significant effect due to our reduced body hair. Goosebumps can still be triggered by cold temperatures or emotional responses, but they are not as effective in providing insulation or making us appear larger, as they might in animals with more hair or feathers.

User if we had more feahers would we have fewer goose bumps? ChatGPT If humans had more feathers, they would not necessarily have fewer goosebumps. Goosebumps are a physiological response to various stimuli, including cold temperatures or strong emotions, and they are primarily mediated by the contraction of the arrector pili muscles at the base of hair follicles. Feathers, which are the equivalent of hair in birds, would not directly impact the occurrence of goosebumps in response to these stimuli.

Goosebumps in animals with feathers, such as birds, are a result of the contraction of muscles at the base of the feathers, which can make the feathers stand on end. This is a similar response to what happens in mammals, like humans, with their body hair. So, the presence of feathers or more extensive feather coverage would likely result in a similar response to environmental or emotional stimuli, causing the feathers to ruffle or stand on end, but it would not eliminate the phenomenon of goosebumps in a feathered human-like species.

In summary, the presence of feathers in humans would not eliminate the occurrence of goosebumps, as this reflex is a separate response from the type of body covering (hair or feathers) and is primarily related to the contraction of muscles at the base of the individual hairs or feathers.

User do geese get goosebumps under their feathers ChatGPT No, geese do not get goosebumps under their feathers. Goosebumps, or piloerection, are a response that occurs when the muscles at the base of hair follicles contract, causing the hair to stand on end and creating raised bumps on the skin. This response is a mammalian characteristic and is not found in birds, including geese.

In birds, feathers serve as their primary insulation and protection against environmental factors. Birds have a different system for regulating their body temperature compared to mammals, and they don't have the same type of hair follicles and arrector pili muscles that lead to the formation of goosebumps in mammals. Instead, birds can adjust the positioning of their feathers to regulate their body temperature. They may fluff up their feathers in cold weather to trap more air and create an insulating layer, or they can flatten their feathers to dissipate heat in hot weather. These feather movements help maintain their body temperature without the need for goosebumps.

User Yesterday, Lynn and I went on what we call the Turtle Walk to get our steps in for the day. The Turtle walk is a stroll around a local man made pond which i full of turtles. On an average lap of a turtle walk, we may see anywhere between a few turtles up to as many as a couple dozen. Each lap around the pond is a third of a mile. ChatGPT It sounds like a lovely way to get some exercise and enjoy the outdoors! Going for a walk around a pond filled with turtles must be a peaceful and enjoyable experience. A third of a mile per lap is a good distance for a leisurely walk, and the variation in the number of turtles you encounter can make each walk unique and interesting. Turtles can be fascinating creatures to observe, and your Turtle Walk seems like a great way to appreciate both nature and physical activity. Is there anything specific you'd like to know or discuss about your Turtle Walk?

User Before we hit the turtle walk, we stopped into the grand opening of a brand new Donut shoppe at the end of our street. We ordered a donut apiece. Then we went to Starbuck's and ordered a couple of macchiatos. We decided to save the donuts until we got home. We took the macchiatos with us. ChatGPT It sounds like a delightful outing! Starting your Turtle Walk with a visit to a brand new donut shop and then grabbing macchiatos from Starbucks must have made your walk even more enjoyable. It's always a treat to have a freshly made donut and a good coffee or macchiato to accompany your walk. Saving the donuts for when you got home was probably a good idea, as you could savor them and enjoy them fully once you had completed your walk and were ready to relax. How did the donuts and macchiatos taste when you finally got to enjoy them at home?

User There weren't a lot of turtles on the shore but we saw on of our favorites, an old guy with a recognizable flap in his carapace. ChatGPT It's nice that you still encountered one of your favorite turtles during your Turtle Walk, even if there weren't many turtles on the shore that day. It's always special to see familiar and recognizable creatures in a natural setting. The old guy with the unique flap in his carapace must be quite the character and a regular visitor to your pond. Observing the same turtles over time can create a connection and make your walks even more enjoyable. Do you have any specific names or stories associated with the turtles you encounter on your Turtle Walks?

User We hadn't gone so far as to name any of the turtles but if were were to name one, it would be this one who we'd call either Flipper or Flapper. As we continued on our walk, we decided that we were in fact going to name the turtle either Flipper or Flapper. We chose Flapper because Flipper sounded too much like a dolphin, too much like a mammal. ChatGPT "Flapper" is a wonderful choice for the turtle's name, and I can understand why you'd prefer it over "Flipper" to avoid any confusion with dolphins. Naming the turtle adds a personal touch to your Turtle Walks and creates a connection with the creatures you encounter regularly. Flapper the turtle, with the recognizable flap in his carapace, now has a name that makes your encounters with him even more special. It's nice to have a little story and personal connection with the wildlife you see during your walks. I'm sure Flapper appreciates the attention you give him!

User About a hundred yards past Flapper, we spotted three geese on the path. I'm not a big fan of geese. They always seem so pissed off. Plus these were the Canadian geese who are starting to migrate into North Carolina. They don't belong here. The turtles belong here. The geese belong in Canada. ChatGPT It's understandable that you may have mixed feelings about geese, especially when they are Canadian geese that have migrated to an area where they might not typically belong. Geese can sometimes appear aggressive or territorial, particularly during their breeding season. While it's true that many species of wildlife have specific migratory patterns and habitats, it's also important to remember that bird migration is a natural phenomenon, and various factors can influence their movements and ranges.

Canadian geese are known for their long-distance migrations, and they have adapted to different environments over time. While they may not be native to North Carolina, they have become a common sight in many areas due to their ability to adapt to a variety of habitats.

The turtles you encounter on your Turtle Walks are undoubtedly a native and cherished part of your local environment. It's essential to appreciate and protect local wildlife, including turtles, while understanding that the presence of migratory birds like Canadian geese is a natural part of the ecosystem. If you have concerns about wildlife management or conservation, local authorities and environmental organizations may offer guidance and resources for addressing such issues in your area.

User I know. I get it. many species of wildlife have specific migratory patterns and habitats, I reminded myself that bird migration is a natural phenomenon, and various factors can influence their movements and ranges. Canadian geese are known for their long-distance migrations, and they have adapted to different environments over time. While they may not be native to North Carolina, they have become a common sight in many areas due to their ability to adapt to a variety of habitats.

ChatGPT It's great to hear that you understand and appreciate the complexities of wildlife migration and adaptation. Your awareness of the natural processes and the ability of species like Canadian geese to adapt to different environments is a commendable perspective. It's essential to coexist with and respect the natural world, recognizing that biodiversity and migration are crucial components of healthy ecosystems.

Your appreciation for the turtles and their native habitat, as well as your acknowledgment of the adaptability of migratory species, showcases a thoughtful and balanced approach to wildlife and the environment. Continue to enjoy your Turtle Walks and the diversity of wildlife you encounter, including the occasional presence of migratory species like Canadian geese. It's a testament to the interconnectedness of nature and the beauty of observing it in action.

User Still, I don't appreciate the goose crap all over the path. ChatGPT Understandably, goose droppings on the path can be quite unsightly and inconvenient. It's a common concern in areas where geese congregate. While it's challenging to completely prevent geese from leaving droppings in public areas, there are a few measures that can be taken to help mitigate the issue:

Habitat Modification: Make changes to the environment to discourage geese from gathering in certain areas. This could include planting tall grass or installing fencing to limit their access to paths.

Scare Tactics: Some places use various methods to deter geese from staying in a particular area, such as motion-activated devices, reflective tape, or decoy animals that simulate predators.

Regular Cleanup: In areas with a persistent geese presence, regular cleaning of paths and open spaces may be necessary to keep them clean and free from droppings.

Educational Outreach: Sometimes, community education programs can help people understand the importance of not feeding geese, as well as the impact of goose droppings on the environment. Feeding geese can encourage them to congregate in certain areas.

It's important to balance the enjoyment of wildlife and the need for cleanliness and safety in public spaces. Local authorities and environmental organizations may have specific guidelines or strategies in place to address this issue in your area.

User we could use some motion activated devices, some reflective tape, some tall grass or some decoy animals to keep these geese away from the pond. ChatGPT Using motion-activated devices, reflective tape, tall grass, or decoy animals can be effective strategies to deter geese from congregating in certain areas. Here's a bit more detail on how these methods can work:

Motion-Activated Devices: Motion-activated devices emit sounds, lights, or other stimuli when they detect movement. These can startle geese and make them uncomfortable, encouraging them to leave the area.

Reflective Tape: Reflective tape, often hung in strips or attached to stakes, can create a visual disturbance that may deter geese. The tape reflects light and moves with the wind, which can make geese uneasy.

Tall Grass: Planting tall grass near the pond can provide a natural barrier that makes the area less inviting to geese. They prefer open spaces where they have a clear line of sight for potential predators.

Decoy Animals: Decoy animals, like plastic owls or coyotes, can be strategically placed to mimic the presence of natural predators. This can make geese think twice about staying in the area.

It's a good idea to consult with local wildlife management experts or organizations for guidance on the most effective methods for your specific location and the local regulations regarding deterring geese. Keep in mind that these methods may need some trial and error to find what works best in your particular environment.

User Motion-activated devices emit sounds, lights, or other stimuli when they detect movement. These can startle geese and make them uncomfortable, encouraging them to leave the area.

Reflective Tape: Reflective tape, often hung in strips or attached to stakes, can create a visual disturbance that may deter geese. The tape reflects light and moves with the wind, which can make geese uneasy.

Tall Grass: Planting tall grass near the pond can provide a natural barrier that makes the area less inviting to geese. They prefer open spaces where they have a clear line of sight for potential predators.

Decoy Animals: Decoy animals, like plastic owls or coyotes, can be strategically placed to mimic the presence of natural predators. This can make geese think twice about staying in the area. ChatGPT You've summarized the strategies quite well! These methods can be effective in discouraging geese from congregating around the pond. Implementing a combination of these strategies may provide the best results, as it can create a more comprehensive deterrent system. As you explore these options, be sure to monitor their effectiveness and adjust your approach as needed to keep the geese at bay while ensuring the comfort and cleanliness of the area around the pond.

User Not only are they droppers but they're aggressive and territorial especially when they're breeding. As we approached the geese, they looked horny as hell and I wished we had taken precautions to make their little love pond a bit more unappealing but hey here we are. ChatGPT Geese can indeed become more territorial and aggressive, especially during their breeding season. It's important to exercise caution when encountering geese in such situations, as they can be protective of their nests and young goslings. Your concerns about their aggressive behavior are valid.

While it's challenging to change their behavior entirely, taking precautions, as you mentioned, can help make areas near the pond less appealing to them during breeding season. This may involve implementing some of the deterrent strategies we discussed earlier, like motion-activated devices, reflective tape, or decoy animals. Additionally, posting warning signs to inform visitors about the presence of geese and the need to keep a safe distance can be beneficial.

Safety should always come first, and taking steps to minimize conflicts with geese while preserving the enjoyment of the area is a reasonable approach.

User The geese saw me coming and as we got closer I got the vibe that the geese didn't appreciate more anymore than I appreciated them. I have been attacked by a goose before and it's no fun. The lead goose in particular seemed offended by my presence. He took a step towards me. We looked at each other eye to eye. I got goose bumps. The goose didn't get goose bumps. Birds don't get goose bumps, mammals do. Flapper wouldn't get goose bumps. Flipper might. Flipper's a mammal so they claim. ChatGPT It's not uncommon for geese to become defensive and protective when they feel their territory or young are threatened. Having had a previous encounter with an aggressive goose, it's understandable that you'd approach the situation with caution.

You're right that birds, including geese, don't get goosebumps as mammals do. Goosebumps in mammals, as I mentioned earlier, are a response to stimuli like cold or strong emotions, resulting from the contraction of arrector pili muscles at the base of hair follicles. Birds, on the other hand, have feathers rather than hair and don't have the same type of musculature to produce a similar response.

It's wise to maintain a safe distance and respect the geese's space to avoid any confrontations. Observing them from a distance can still provide an opportunity to appreciate these birds and their behavior while keeping everyone involved safe.

User ChatGPT It's good to hear that you and Lynn were able to pass by the geese without any issues, and that you shared a moment of amusement over the goosebumps and your body's natural response to a perceived threat. Your explanation about the fight or flight reaction is accurate; goosebumps can be part of the body's response to prepare for a possible threat.

It's also sweet that you reminded Lynn of your protective instincts. It's natural to want to look out for the people you care about. Even though the geese were more likely to be territorial rather than a real threat, it's always good to stay vigilant when interacting with wildlife. Your actions are a sign of your concern for her well-being.

Regenerate Send a message

Free Research Preview. ChatGPT may produce inaccurate information about people, places, or facts. ChatGPT September 25 Version

[specialmouse]

Line 1: cave painting. Their identity feels more secure when they can physically feel the presence of their ancestors

Line 2: Neanderthals likely would have had a different way of communicating from humans—the speaker cannot find harmony/synergy between their halves

Line 3: Land bridge, a common theory for several human migration patterns

Line 4: The Chatelperronian was a Neanderthal stone tool industry period. Many tools found that date back to this time have curved backings. The speaker curves their back over their spine: the fetal position. This is the most common burial position for Homo sapiens, not so much for Neanderthals. In trying to become fully Neanderthal, the speaker merely curves back in on themself and becomes more human. This contortion is both regressive (as in regressing back to infancy) and fatal to the speaker.

Line 5: The pronounced brow ridge of their Neanderthal ancestors is present, but not as much—it is *trying* to cover their eyes, so it does not succeed. However it is still enough to be noticeable.

Line 6: Idk seems self explanatory to me

Line 7: Weaving is a uniquely human activity, though humans were not weaving when they existed alongside Neanderthals. ConunDRUM, dancing to the beat. aHEAD of the rest, beat in my chest: head and heart—Homo sapiens is more intelligent, Neanderthals are stronger

Line 8: The Oldowan is the earliest known stone tool industry period headed by Homo habilis, beginning 2.9 million years ago in Africa. They are far more rudimentary tools in both construction and usage when compared to the much later Chatelperronian. Oldowans/older ones, i.e old people being set in their outdated mindset. Level, wah wah wah/Levallois, a tool technique created by Neanderthals that involves striking flakes off the center to form a point.

Line 9: A) Sharp and bevelled because of the Levallois technique. B) It is not known if Neanderthals could/did speak.

Line 10: When compared to all other hominids, Homo sapiens possess a larger frontal neocortex associated with higher cognition and language processing, so a Neanderthal will struggle with more complex ideas such as the liminal state of someone with a mixed species identity

Line 11: You man/human

Line 12: While both highly successful endurance and persistence hunters, Neanderthals possessed more strength than Homo sapiens

Line 13: Sahara Pump Theory: posits that several phases of environmental changes drew African flora and fauna (including hominins) towards the Sahara, which was dense with lakes and rivers at the time. Then the Nile stopped flowing and the West African monsoon moved south, causing the Sahara to turn into a desert, pushing some hominids, like Homo erectus, further out of Africa.

Line 14: Flores is an Indonesian island where a group of 50,000 year old hominin remains were discovered. They were 3.5 feet tall and, interestingly, more genetically similar to Homo habilis, which went extinct 1.65 MILLION YEARS AGO. Seriously go read up on them it’s actually incredible. Anyway they were nicknamed the Hobbits for their height. So if you’re looking up to Bilbo you’re even shorter than a Hobbit. Which isn’t true for Homo sapiens but it’s fun okay

Thanks everyone.

Take 2: half-Neanderthal half-Homo sapiens bispecial slam poetry

I reach out, press my hand against rock and through time

My tongue speaks in syllables that I can’t get to rhyme

Tryna find the bridge between these two worlds of mine

A chatelperonnian nightmare, my back curves over my spine

I’m wonderin why, my brow tries to cover my eyes

They’re hypnotized, an anthropological conundrum, I’m ahead of the rest

Weavin my own tale while I dance to the beat in my chest

Oldowans gon say that I’m not on their level, wah, wah, wah,

My bars were sharp and beveled before you could talk, talk, talk

Listen, try to understand this complex issue—oh wait, you can’t, you lack the neocortex tissue

Not like you man are able to get ahead

Just a few light hunts and you’re needin to go to bed

Your pumps are just a theory, you’re only erectus when you’re homo,

Go try this shit on Flores, you’ll be lookin’ up to Bilbo

I literally could keep going for hours. I can’t stop