#and several elongated limbs

[indiestsnake]

uh. I’ve already posted this. but that was when like 6 ppl knew of my existence and im really proud of it so

content warning, minor body horror. no gore, just something with a few too many limbs

this is my bird do u like him

he is in moderate to severe pain but he is living just like the rest of us

[scribbledghost]

Inhuman!Vessel Headcanons

Note: Here's Vessel!! There's still the PolyVessels to go, but I hope you're all enjoying this little series so far!

General:

The oldest of the vessels, and Sleep's first convert. As such, he has a deeper connection with the deity, despite II converting not long after he did.

This also comes with extra powers and more inhuman traits. Vessel has six eyes, long canines, an elongated tongue, and pointed ears. For powers, he has extra strength, stamina, speed, and the ability to adjust his physical form. And that's on top of his unique inhuman powers.

His powers are that of song. Specifically, he has an unnatural talent for writing music and performing it, both instrumentally and vocally. Like a siren, he's able to draw people in using just his voice.

Being Sleep's primary vessel can be draining, especially when communing with the deity. His eyes will glow, and he will also emanate a blue glow from his mouth, almost like whisps of smoke during more intense sessions. His hands and limbs will twitch as well, depending on the type of communication occurring.

Due to the levels of strain on his physical body over the centuries of connecting with Sleep, Vessel will sometimes have tremor episodes. This is especially prevalent in his hands, and it happens more so when he's singing.

Vessel isn't 100% serious all the time, and he absolutely has a sense of humor. Known to partake in prank wars with III from time to time, and is prone to getting The Zoomies when he's got a buildup of energy.

Has tried to keep up with the language of the times over his centuries of living, but the manor doesn't get visitors often so it's not unusual for him to slip into some more archaic language when he speaks. Most of his grasp on evolving language comes from the books the manor supplies in the library.

Very rarely gets angry, but when he does, it's a terrifying sight. His physical form will change, altering into something decidedly more inhuman than he already is. The rage is almost palpable coming from him. As such, he tries his best to keep a tight lid on any anger he happens to feel.

Fluff:

Vessel's affections are best described as... "encompassing". He loves hard, and there's very little room for doubt as to where his heart lies. If there's anything he does well, it's worshiping. Whether that be Sleep or you, the sentiment is the same.

Very find of writing songs, prose, and poetry for you. He's more likely to show you the songs he writes than the rest, but he keeps a small journal full of his musings about you.

Loves to hold you, especially with your back to his chest. He feels most content when he's got his arms around you, ensuring you're safe from everything. He also likes when you straddle his lap; even if it's just to talk. Vessel just likes looking at you.

Constantly kissing you. Whether that be on your hand, your shoulder, your lips, or anywhere else he can reach at any given time, Vessel almost always has his lips on you.

Vessel finds he feels physically better when he's around you. Communing with Sleep doesn't drain him quite as much, and the tremors in his hands aren't as severe.

He often slips into your dreams. Part of it is because he doesn't want to be away from you for too long, and part of it is because he wants to make sure no nightmares plague you.

Vessel is nothing if not a hopeless romantic. He doesn't want to just "date" you. He wants to court you. He wants to make you feel like royalty. There's not much he won't do for you.

Quickest way to relax him (or even put him to sleep) is to massage his scalp. Bonus points if he gets to rest his head on your chest while you do.

Smut (Under the cut):

A very tactile lover, he's always got his hands somewhere on your body during sex. Groping, caressing, whatever he can manage. He just wants to feel you.

Does tend to cause property damage at first when he orgasms. Broken lights, cracked windows, etc. It's purely because the sensations your body gives him nearly overloads his powers until he gets used to it.

Talks. Constantly. Soft words, praise, flowery prose, you name it. If his mouth isn't otherwise occupied, he's talking. If he can't speak out loud for whatever reason, you can bet he's taking advantage of your telepathic connection.

Absolutely a pleasure top. Not above being submissive by any means, but if given the choice, he wants to serve you. Wants to worship you. Sex is about much more than just physical sensations to Vessel - it's a whole experience.

That's not to say he doesn't appreciate letting you take control. His favorite view is one where you're on top, hands on his chest while you ride him like he's yours.

100% puts his tongue to good use frequently. He may not need to eat, but the man absolutely needs to feed. All you have to do is lie back and let him. He'll always make sure you're taken care of.

Definitely a biter. He loves seeing your skin marked up, he loves knowing exactly where each indent and hickey came from. He may break skin (with your express permission), but it's not a frequent occurrence.

Vessel is a simple man - his favorite position is missionary. A close second is the lotus position where you're in his lap. Either way, he needs to be able to hold you close and see your face.

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Mammalia - Artiodactyla

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Our final order of mammals, and second order of ungulates is Artiodactyla, commonly referred to as “even-toed ungulates”. Artiodactyla is a large and highly diverse group which includes the living families Camelidae (“camels”, “vicuñas”, “guanacos”, and kin), Suidae (“pigs”), Tayassuidae (“peccaries”), Hippopotamidae (“hippopotamuses”), Balaenidae (“right whales” and “Bowhead Whale”), Cetotheriidae (“Pygmy Right Whale”), Balaenopteridae (“rorquals”), Eschrichtiidae (“Gray Whale”), Delphinidae (“oceanic dolphins”), Monodontidae (“Beluga Whale” and “Narwhal”), Phocoenidae (“porpoises”), Kogiidae (“Pygmy and Dwarf Sperm Whales”), Physeteridae (“Sperm Whale”), Iniidae (“South American river dolphins”), Platanistidae (“south Asian river dolphins”), Pontoporiidae (“La Plata Dolphin”), Ziphiidae (“beaked whales”), Tragulidae (“chevrotains”), Antilocapridae (“Pronghorn”), Giraffidae (“giraffes” and “Okapi”), Cervidae (“deer”), Moschidae (“musk deer”), and Bovidae (“cattle”, “antelopes”, “goats”, and kin).

Artiodactyls are typically defined by the fact that they bear most of their weight equally on two or four of the five original ungulate toes. However, all living members of the infraorder Cetacea have lost their toes, replacing them with flipper-like limbs. Many artiodactyls have a relatively large head, with an elongated and narrow skull. Some families have cranial appendages, which include true horns, antlers, ossicones, or pronghorns. True horns have a bone core that is covered in a permanent sheath of keratin, and are found only in the Bovids. Antlers are bony structures that are shed and replaced each year, only found in deer. Artiodactyls have a well-developed sense of smell and sense of hearing. Similar to many other prey animals, their eyes are on the sides of the head, giving them an almost panoramic view, so that they can keep an eye out for predators while grazing. This order is highly diverse, ranging in size from the rabbit-sized Java Mouse-deer (Tragulus javanicus) to the largest mammal, and possibly the largest animal to ever exist: the Blue Whale (Balaenoptera musculus). Most are herbivorous, but many are omnivores or even carnivores.

Male artiodactyls are usually larger than females. In the majority of deer species, only the males grow antlers, and the horns of female bovines are usually smaller or absent. As this is a very diverse group, social and mating behavior vary between species. They have a tendency to form larger groups, but some live alone or in pairs. Species living in groups often have a hierarchy, both among males and females. Some species also live in harem groups, with one male, several females, and their common offspring. In other species, the females and juveniles stay together, while males are solitary or live in bachelor groups and seek out females only during mating season. Generally, artiodactyls tend to have long gestation periods, smaller litter sizes, and more highly-developed young (usually called a “calf”). Most deliver 1 or 2 calves at a time, but some pigs can deliver up to ten. Newborn artiodactyls are precocial and are born with hair and open eyes.

The oldest fossils of artiodactyls date back to the early Eocene (about 53 million years ago).

Propaganda under the cut:

More than half the species in the family Camelidae are domesticated, with the only living wild camelids being the Vicuña (Lama vicugna) (ancestor of the domestic Alpaca), the Guanaco (Lama guanicoe) (ancestor of the domestic Llama), and the Wild Bactrian Camel (Camelus ferus) (NOT the ancestor of the Domestic Bactrian).

Camelids have true canine teeth and tusk-like premolars, which are separated from the molars by a gap.

Both the Bactrian Camel (Camelus bactrianus) (image 1) and the Dromedary (Camelus dromedarius) were domesticated in ancient times for riding, transport, ploughing, and as a source of milk, meat, wool, and leather. Today, the wild ancestors of both of these species are extinct, and only feral populations of domestic camels remain. The only truly wild camel species left is the Wild Bactrian Camel (Camelus ferus), which is critically endangered.

The Wild Bactrian Camel can survive on water saltier than seawater, something which no other mammal in the world seems to be able to tolerate, including the domestic Bactrian Camel.

In Aymara mythology, Llamas (Lama glama) are sacred beings. The Heavenly Llama is said to drink water from the ocean and urinates as it rains. According to Aymara eschatology, llamas will return to the water springs and ponds where they come from at the end of time.

Babirusas (genus Babyrousa) are unique for their prominent, upwards incurving, canine tusks, which pierce out through the flesh of the snout in males. The upper canine tusks continue growing, curving backward over the front of the face and towards the forehead. If a male Babirusa does not grind his tusks (achievable through regular activity), they can eventually keep growing and, rarely, even penetrate the individual's skull.

The Domestic Pig (Sus domesticus) was domesticated from the Wild Boar (Sus scrofa) beginning in the Neolithic, and is a result of two different domestication events in both the Middle East and China. They are mostly kept for meat and leather, but are also used in medicine and as pets. The Domestic Pig is one of the few omnivorous animals to be domesticated.

The endangered Chacoan Peccary (Catagonus wagneri) is the rarest of the 3 living species of peccary, with only around 3,000 individuals left in the world. It is a “Lazarus taxon”, as its genus was first described from fossil remains of the extinct Catagonus metropolitanus. The Chacoan Peccary only lives in hot, dry, thorny areas of the Gran Chaco.

While the semi-aquatic hippopotamuses were once more diverse, only two species of different branching lineages remain: the vulnerable Common Hippopotamus (Hippopotamus amphibius) (see gif above) and the endangered Pygmy Hippopotamus (Choeropsis liberiensis).

The Egyptian goddess Tawaret is depicted as a pregnant woman with a hippopotamus head, representing fierce maternal love.

Humans have hunted whales since prehistoric times, with depictions of whaling dating back to 6000 BC. Whales are hunted for their meat, blubber, and oil. Whale oil was in high demand for lighting lamps in the 18th century. The Sperm Whale (Physeter macrocephalus) was particularly prized for spermaceti, a dense waxy substance that burns with an exceedingly bright flame that is found in the whale’s spermaceti organ. Approximately 40% of Right Whales' (genus Eubalaena) (image 3) body mass is blubber, and thus they were known as the "right" whale to kill. Today, the North Atlantic Right Whale (Eubalaena glacialis) is the most critically endangered great whale, with around 372 individuals left in the world. While whale hunting has been significantly curtailed in recent years, whales still face threats from entanglement in fishing gear, boat strikes, underwater noise pollution, plastic and heavy metals build-up, and accelerating climate change. Cetaceans are still hunted in some countries.

The Humpback Whale (Megaptera novaeangliae) is known to not only fight back against their main predators, Orcas (Orcinus orca), but also to interfere with Orca hunting parties, rescuing their prey.

The mysterious Narwhal (Monodon monoceros) is known for the long tusk of the males, which is a protruding left canine thought to function as a weapon, a tool for feeding, in attracting mates, or for sensing water salinity. Some males may grow two tusks, occurring when the right canine also protrudes through the lip. Some females may grow a tusk as well, but it is usually smaller than the tusks of males.

The critically endangered Vaquita (Phocoena sinus) is the smallest of all living cetaceans, reaching a maximum body length of 150 cm (4.9 ft) for females or 140 cm (4.6 ft) for males. The Vaquita is one of the most endangered animals in the world, with around 6-11 individuals remaining. They are endangered primarily due to bycatch in gillnets from the illegal Totoaba (Totoaba macdonaldi) fishery.

The Baiji (Lipotes vexillifer) was a river dolphin, and the last surviving member of the family Lipotidae. It is classified as "critically endangered: possibly extinct", as no specimens have been seen in the Yangtze River in over 20 years. Heavy use of the river for fishing, transportation, and hydroelectricity were the likely causes of this unique species’ extinction. While some individuals may survive, their population is likely too low to recover. If indeed extinct, the Baiji's disappearance would be the first recorded extinction of a well-studied cetacean species to be directly attributable to human influence.

The Pronghorn (Antilocapra americana) is the last surviving member of its family. While they are sometimes referred to as antelope, this is an example of convergent evolution, and their closest living relatives are the Giraffids. The Pronghorn is the fastest land mammal in the Americas, and the third fastest land mammal on Earth, with running speeds of up to 88.5 km/h (55 mph). This running speed was likely an adaptation to flee the Pleistocene American Cheetahs (genus Miracinonyx), which are now extinct.

Giraffes are the tallest living land animals, with the largest being the Masai Giraffe (Giraffa tippelskirchi). Bull Masai Giraffes can grow up to 5.5 meters (18 feet) in height, and weigh 1,300 kilograms (2,900 pounds).

Caribou (Rangifer tarandus), also known as Reindeer, are unique among Cervids in that females may have antlers, although the prevalence of antlered females varies by subspecies.

Cervid antlers are a controlled form of bone cancer. Antler growth is tightly regulated by the activity of tumor-suppressing and tumor-growth-inhibiting genes. The cancer-suppressing genes that keep growth in check also protect against cancer in general, and documented cancer rates in deer that are five times lower than rates in other mammals.

Musk Deer (genus Moschus) are not true deer belonging to the family Cervidae, but rather their family is most closely related to Bovidae. They are known for the enlarged upper canines, forming sabre-like tusks, grown by the males for display.

The family Bovidae is the largest of the artiodactyls, and ungulates in general, accounting for nearly 55% of the ungulates. They also contain the majority of domesticated animals.

The critically endangered Saola (Pseudoryx nghetinhensis) is also known as the “Asian Unicorn” due to its rarity. The first photograph of a living Saola was taken in captivity in 1993. The most recent one was taken in 2013 by a movement-triggered camera in the forest of central Vietnam.

The African Buffalo (Syncerus caffer), specifically the Syncerus caffer caffer subspecies, the Cape Buffalo, is known as one of the most dangerous animals in Africa. With nicknames like "the Black Death" or "the widowmaker", Cape Buffalos can be highly territorial and defensive, and wounded animals are reported to ambush and attack hunters. (However, Elephants, Nile Crocodiles, and Hippos are still responsible for more deaths per year than African Buffalos are. Not to mention mosquitoes and venomous snakes.)

Domestic Cattle (Bos taurus) and Zebu (Bos indicus) were both domesticated from the now extinct Aurochs (Bos primigenius) during the Neolithic revolution. While the Aurochs is now extinct, Domestic Cattle are the most successful members of their lineage, with over 1.4 billion cattle in the world.

The Springbok (Antidorcas marsupialis) is the fourth fastest land mammal, clocked at 88 km/h (55 mph). They are primarily known for their pronking behavior: bouts of repeated high leaps of up to 2m (6.7 ft) into the air. In pronking, the Springbok performs multiple leaps into the air in a stiff-legged posture, with the back bowed and the white fur on its rump raised. This behavior displays the fitness of males, both to attract mates and to ward off predators, who won’t waste time chasing a healthy, fit Springbok.

The Domestic Sheep (Ovis aries), domesticated from the Mouflon (Ovis gmelini) between 11,000 and 9000 BC in Mesopotamia, and the Domestic Goat (Capra hircus), domesticated from the Bezoar Ibex (Capra aegagrus aegagrus) around 8000 BC, were domesticated to provide easy access to meat, hides, dung (used for fuel), wool, and milk. It is thought that the birth of agriculture and domestication of livestock is what led to human civilizations, as it was hard to be nomadic with a large herd of animals. Villages popped up around pens of livestock, leading to towns, leading to cities.

[gobingirl]

Meeting the JL fit

So it’s been said before that Danny would have an eldritch horror form. But what if there different stages he could morph into just for the intimidation factor?

Like imagine he’s trying to make a good impression on the JL but he wants them to take him seriously as a hero. So he’s just in his room shifting from one form to another and everything in between trying to decide what would say ‘friendly but not to be trifled with’ and not ‘shit your pants’. It’s like watching a girl trying to decide what to wear on a first date.

He pulls Jazz into his room to help him decide:

“Just be yourself!”

“But all of these is some form of myself!”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“How about this one?”

And he shrinks from whatever wendigo form looking thing he was a moment ago into his normal Phantom look. But then he lets his claws extend, his hair grows longer to drape around his face dramatically, and several extra eyes pop up over his face and neck. His limbs grow long and his teeth sharpen and elongate to poke out from behind his pale lips.

Jazz just sits there for a moment in silence, looking a little pale herself. Then shakes her head.

“Tone it down just a little.”

He reduces the look to lessen the effect but it’s still pretty terrifying and bad ass.

And that’s what he settled on to go meet the JL for the first time. When he gets there he forgets to turn off his invisibility and when he remembers he just appears in the meeting hall, I’d imagine that Flash would screech in alarm and run into a wall or something before he introduces himself.

[kiame-sama]

What do the Ursus Majors look like? Id like to do fanart of Mor’Du or is it a spoiler?

Not a spoiler at all, but we will see my drawing of Mor'du when he finally makes an appearance in the story. Do keep in mind, I intend to put the MC through a lot, and it is only close to two months that all of the first 39 chapters have taken place. There will be more.

But let's talk Undying Ursus Minors and The Undying Ursus Major.

Warnings: gorey descriptions, reader discretion is advised

The Undying Ursus Minors are the more common one and can be found anywhere the Ursus Major has roamed. They are offspring of the one and only Undying Ursus Major and a normal bear. Most Ursus Minors are indistinguishable from a regular bear at first, but when someone tries to kill one is when the true horror begins.

The easily identifiable Ursus Minor are those that are missing limbs, flesh, eyes, and have exposed bone covered in pustules. They are not lovely creatures. They cannot heal and they cannot die, they just travel in states of mindless agony as their bodies decay and deform, driven to seek out anything human shaped to end their suffering.

The Ursus Major- Mor'du- is a large bear that more than dwarfs a Polar bear in size, weight, and ferocity. The Ursus Major "heals" but leaves deep running and twisted scars like bramble that cover his entire body. Many spears, swords, knives, axes, arrows, bolts, and even some crude sharply shaped magestones are sticking out of his body, healed into his undying flesh. The right side of his head is caved and bone is exposed with deep lines of glowing mana within the ivory bone, showing a malformed bear skull with a Human skull fused into the eye, eternally frozen in a scream. His fur is dark and inky with overblot, covered in blot filled pustules that occasionally pop and ooze a mix of blot and rotten blood. His one remaining eye is sunken and appears blind at first glance with no eye-lid. It rolls back and weeps this curdled blood when he is "sleeping" and deep within nightmarish dreams. When he awakes, the eye rolls forward to stare, glowing when it sees anything vaguely Human shaped. His teeth have overgrown his mouth, some twisted and cracking, some sticking through his chops. His spine is elongated and kinked in many places where others tried to sever it. He is only half furred, as the rest is twisting scars that occasionally break open of he breathes too hard.

There is a beautifully crafted and ornate blade that is lodged in his ribs where his heart would be, Trein's original blade from when he faced Mor'du for the lives of his students.

He is a painful looking creature, pitiful in the fact that he longs for the release of death, yet can only be ended by a Human hand. His pain and craving for death has only made him violent, his mind long lost to turning Feral. All he knows is violence, and Sage island is typically evacuated whenever he wakes. Papa Hades has tried to trap Mor'du in Tartarus, but Mor'du slaughtered too many Shinigami to count. It is simply agreed by the many countries that wherever Mor'du slumbers- he is to be left alone. Sage island is the furthest from any large continent they could get him, so he is to be left undisturbed by others. Waking him can be considered a crime, but simply surviving the Ursus Major is punishment enough.

Trein is considered a hero for going toe to toe with Mor'du for as long as he did and only escaping with a permanently mangled leg. Clay respects Trein more than anyone else becuase of this.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Animals

for your next poem/story

Aardwolf - a maned striped nocturnal mammal (Proteles cristatus) of southern and eastern Africa that resembles the related hyenas and feeds chiefly on insects and especially termites

Bittern - any of various small or medium-sized, short-necked, usually secretive herons

Chevrotain - (also called mouse deer) any of several very small hornless deerlike ruminant mammals of tropical Asia, the Malay archipelago, and West Africa superficially resembling the musk deer, the male having short tusks, and being among the smallest known ruminants, standing only about a foot high

Douroucouli - (also called owl monkey) any of several small nocturnal monkeys (genus Aotus) of Central and South American tropical forests that have round heads, large eyes, and densely furred bodies

Eland - either of two large African antelopes (Taurotragus oryx and Taurotragus derbianus) bovine in form with short spirally twisted horns in both sexes

Falconet - any of several very small falcons

Gemsbok - a large and strikingly marked oryx (Oryx gazella) formerly abundant in southern Africa

Hoatzin - a crested large South American bird (Opisthocomos hoazin) with blue facial skin, red eyes, brown plumage marked with white above, and claws on the first and second digits of the wing when young

Ichneumon - a mongoose (Herpestes ichneumon) of Africa, southern Europe, and southwestern Asia

Jacana - any of a family (Jacanidae) of long-legged and long-toed tropical wading birds that frequent coastal freshwater marshes and ponds

Klipspringer - a small antelope (Oreotragus oreotragus) that is somewhat like the chamois in habits and is found from Cape Colony to Somaliland

Lammergeier - a large Old World vulture (Gypaetus barbatus) that occurs in mountainous regions, has long black bristles at the base of the bill, and in flight resembles a very large falcon; bearded vulture

Muntjac - any of a genus (Muntiacus) of small deer of southeastern Asia with an alarm call similar to the bark of a dog and having in the male elongated, downward-pointing upper canine teeth which protrude from the lip and short, usually unbranched, pointed antlers; barking deer

Nightjar - any of a family (Caprimulgidae) of medium-sized long-winged crepuscular or nocturnal birds (such as the whip-poor-wills and nighthawks) having a short bill, short legs, and soft mottled plumage and feeding on insects which they catch on the wing

Ouzel - blackbird

Palfrey - archaic: a saddle horse other than a warhorse; especially: a lady's light easy-gaited horse

Quetzal - a Central American trogon (Pharomachrus mocinno) that has brilliant green plumage above, a red breast, and in the male long upper tail coverts

Rosella - an Australian parakeet (Platycercus eximius) often kept as a cage bird having the head and back of the neck scarlet and the cheeks white, the back dark green varied with lighter green, and the breast red and yellow

Springhare - jumping hare i.e., a sciuromorph rodent (Pedetes cafer) of southern and eastern Africa that resembles a kangaroo in form, that is about two feet long, and that is tawny brown in color and of nocturnal and social habits

Thylacine - Tasmanian tiger i.e., a somewhat doglike carnivorous marsupial (Thylacinus cynocephalus) that formerly inhabited Tasmania but is now considered extinct

Uintatherium - a genus (the type of the family Uintatheriidae) of large herbivorous ungulate mammals of the order Dinocerata from the Eocene of Wyoming resembling elephants in size and in the conformation of their limbs and having three pairs of bony protuberances respectively on the parietal, maxillary, and nasal bones of the skill, a pair of canine tusks guarded by downwardly directed processes of the lower jaw but no upper incisors, and a proportionately very small brain

Vaquita - a small, highly endangered porpoise (Phocoena sinus) of the Gulf of California having a dark ring around the eyes and reaching only four to five feet (1.2 to 1.5 meters) in length

Whitecoat - a very young hair seal and especially a harp seal

Xiphias - a genus (the type of the family Xiphiidae) of large scombroid fishes comprising the common swordfish

Zho - (also called dzo) a hybrid between the yak and the domestic cow

More: Word Lists

[santaklausq]

05. wendigo

pairing. dean winchester (s2) x fem! oc

notes. probably inaccurate wendigo lore… forgive me

The forest was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, the kind of place where sound carried strangely, swallowed up by the towering trees. Dean adjusted his grip on his shotgun as he stepped over a fallen log, his boots sinking slightly into the mossy ground. Beside him, Sam had his flashlight angled ahead, scanning the undergrowth.

They’ve been tracking signs of something inhuman for hours. Reports of missing hikers, gutted animal corpses, strange claw marks along tree trunks.

“You sure this is the right place?” Dean muttered, eyes darting around the shadows.

Sam sighed, gesturing toward the gaping entrance of a cave up ahead. “It lines up. Multiple disappearances, last known locations all point toward this area. Witnesses reported weird sounds coming from a cave system.”

They moved in cautiously, the air turning stale and heavy as they stepped inside, boots echoing against the uneven ground.

The cave was narrow at first, forcing them to move in a single file, the walls slick with condensation. The deeper they went, the stronger the stench became — something foul and rotting, clinging to the air like a warning.

Dean wrinkled his nose. “Jesus. Smells like a damn slaughterhouse.”

Sam paused ahead of him, his flashlight stopping on something in front. “That’s probably because it is.”

Dean followed the beam of his flashlight to the ground. Bones. Piles of them, scattered haphazardly. Some stripped clean, others still bearing scraps of decomposed flesh.

“Looks like we found where it feeds.” Dean muttered.

Sam crouched down, inspecting a skull that had deep gouges along the bone. “These weren’t just chewed through. They were torn apart.”

They continued to move deeper in, weapons at the ready. Then, just ahead, something else came into view — a severed arm lying in a pool of dark, viscous blood. Except, it wasn’t human. The skin was ashen, almost greyish, with elongated fingers ending in jagged claws.

Dean grimaced. “Well, that’s not from any missing hiker.”

Sam frowned, reaching out with his knife to nudge the limb. “It’s fresh. This thing was alive not long ago.”

A rustling sound echoed within the cave. Both brothers tensed, weapons raised—

And then a voice, weak but unmistakable.

“Fancy seeing you guys here.”

Dean’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t see where the voice was coming from, but he knew it — knew it like the back of his damn hand.

Dean whipped around, his flashlight sweeping the space until it landed on a slumped figure against the cave wall.

Aza.

She was a mess. Slumped against the rough stone, one arm wrapped around her middle where blood seeped between her fingers, pooling beneath her in a dark, glistening stain. Her torn shirt clung to her, stained with blood, and her skin looked unnervingly pale under the dim light.

Despite all that, her lips still curled into a tired, amused smile.

Dean was already moving before he could think, closing the space between them in long, urgent strides.

He crouched beside her, his heart hammering as he took in the damage. “Shit, Aza.” His voice was tight, the usual sharp edge dulled by something else — something dangerously close to worry.

“What happened?” Sam asked, dropping down beside them.

Aza huffed a laugh, though it came out strained. “Oh, you know. Just a normal day in the life. Fighting stuff twice my size.”

Dean clenched his jaw, his eyes locking onto hers. “That’s real cute, but I don’t think you’re in any shape to be cracking jokes right now.”

She exhaled heavily, letting her head rest against the damp cave wall. “Hey, at least I’m not the one missing an arm.”

Dean flicked a glance at the severed limb a few feet away but. didn’t waste time asking how the hell she managed that. Instead, he grabbed her wrist and gently pried her blood-slicked hand away from her side.

She bit back a groan as he lifted her shirt, revealing the deep gash beneath. Blood was still seeping out, sluggish but steady.

Sam shot Dean a look, clearly concerned. “We need to stop the bleeding now. And then get her out of here.”

Dean nodded sharply. “I got it.”

Without hesitation, he ripped part of his shirt sleeve off, hands working fast to press it against her wound and wrap it tightly around her waist.

Aza winced, biting down on her lip as she tried to steady her breathing.

He glanced up at her. Seeing her like this, vulnerable and barely holding on, made his heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the danger they were in.

“I know, I know. Almost done.” he murmured, his voice low and steady, as he tied the makeshift bandage around her waist. He could tell she was trying to hold it together, but there was no hiding how badly she was hurt.

“I’m fine.” she managed weakly.

Dean exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Yeah? Well, humour me.”

Before she could argue, he shifted, sliding one arm under her legs, the other behind her back.

“Dean–”

“Not a word.” he cut her off, lifting her into his arms with ease.

She was still pale, her breathing shallow, but her eyes — those sharp, stubborn blue eyes — were locked on his.

For a second, she looked like she was going to protest, her brows furrowing in that familiar defiant way. But then, as if her body finally caught up to how much blood she’d lost, she let her cheek rest against his shoulder.

Dean tightened his grip, holding her closer as he pushed to his feet. He could feel the unsteady rise and fall of her chest against his own, could feel the warmth of her blood seeping through his shirt.

Sam was already ahead of them, sweeping the cave with his flashlight and leading the way out. The damp air clung to them as they moved, Dean careful with every step, keeping his hold firm but gentle. Aza’s weight against him was lighter than expected — too light. It only made his chest tighten more.

The drive back was tense. Aza drifted in and out of consciousness in the backseat, her head resting in the crook of Dean’s neck as he kept an arm around her to keep her steady. Sam drove, the Impala cutting through the dark forest roads as fast as he could push her.

Aza’s breath was warm against his skin, and though it was barely there, it was enough to give him some comfort.

“Hey,” he murmured, cupping her cheek with his palm. “Eyes open, Aza. Come on.”

Her lashes fluttered, and her voice came out hoarse. “I’m awake.”

Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realise he was holding, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek as he looked down at her. “Yeah? You sure? ‘Cause you’re making it pretty damn hard to believe.”

Aza’s lips twitched, a weak attempt at a smile. But it didn’t last long before her eyes began to drift closed again.

“Hey,” Dean nudged her gently, his tone soft but firm. “Talk to me.”

Aza’s head shifted slightly, her eyelids flickering as if she was trying to stay awake, but the effort was clearly taking a toll on her. She let out a shallow breath, eyes opening just enough to meet his gaze.

“About what?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dean gave a small chuckle, trying to keep his voice light despite the heavy weight pressing on his chest. “I don’t know. Anything. Just– don’t fall asleep on me, alright? We’re almost there.”

She breathed in slowly, wincing slightly as she shifted against him. “How have you been?” she asked, her voice thick with fatigue. “We haven’t seen each other in a while.”

Dean’s smile faltered as he looked down at her, his heart pulling in a way he hadn’t expected — how much time had passed since the last time they’d spoken. All because he made it awkward by being an idiot and trying to charm her into his bed the last time.

“I’ve been… better.” Dean replied, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “But I’m not the one bleeding out so…”

Aza let out a weak chuckle, but exhaustion took over and she didn’t say anything else.

When they finally reached the cabin, Dean didn’t wait. The second Sam killed the engine, he was already hauling Aza into his arms again.

He carried her up the porch steps, nudging the door open with his foot. Sam followed quickly, flicking on the lights as they stepped inside. The cabin was simple — just a small, temporary base they’d set up while working the case.

Dean laid Aza on the couch, already reaching for the duffel where they kept supplies. Sam moved to grab extra towels and water while Dean crouched beside her, carefully peeling back the fabric of the makeshift bandage that was already soaked with blood.

The long deep gash along her side looked even worse under proper lighting. Whatever had gotten to her hadn’t held back.

Sam returned, setting everything down beside them. “We need to clean that and stitch it up.”

Aza groaned. “Great. My favourite.”

Dean grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the table and handed it to her. “Here. Might wanna take a swig.”

She took it without argument, bringing it to her lips and swallowing a few mouthfuls before handing it back. Dean didn’t hesitate to take a drink himself before setting the bottle aside.

“This is gonna hurt.” he warned, already soaking a rag in antiseptic.

Aza gave him a dry look. “Oh, good. I was hoping for that.”

Dean just shook his head before pressing the rag against the wound.

She tensed immediately — he felt it more than he saw it. The way her muscles went rigid, the slight hitch in her breathing. But she didn’t make a sound. No sharp inhale, no muttered curse. She just bore it, her fingers curling into the couch, knuckles turning white.

Dean hated it. Hated how used to pain she seemed. Hated how natural it was for her to just grit her teeth and take it.

His movements slowed, just slightly, as he started stitching her up. He was careful, precise, but the wound was deep, and every pull of the needle had to sting like hell. Still, she stayed quiet, only the unsteady rise and fall of her chest betraying the strain.

Finally, after a few more careful knots, he tied off the last stitch and exhaled. “There,” he murmured. “All done.”

Aza let out a slow breath, tilting her head back against the couch. “Well, that was fun.” she muttered.

Dean snorted, cutting away the excess thread. “Yeah, I’ll make sure to book us a follow-up appointment.”

She smirked faintly but didn’t open her eyes. The exhaustion was catching up to her now, the adrenaline fading. Dean noticed the way her body sagged just a little more into the cushions, her breathing evening out, but she was still too stubborn to admit she needed rest.

“Alright,” he said, shifting back and reaching for the roll of gauze. “Let’s get this wrapped up.”

Aza opened her eyes at that, lifting herself just enough to allow him to wrap the bandage around her middle and over the wound.

She watched him in the dim light, the way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration, the way his touch — though firm — was gentle.

Quietly, she muttered, “Thanks, Dean.”

Dean glanced up at her, his hands stilling for just a second before he gave a small nod. “Yeah.” he said, voice softer than usual.

Aza held his gaze for a moment longer, as if debating whether to say something else. But the exhaustion was winning. With a slow exhale, she let herself sink back into the couch, her body finally surrendering to the weight of sleep.

The last thing she registered was the faint rustle of fabric, the warmth of a blanket being draped over her.

Aza stirred a while later, her body sluggish and heavy with exhaustion. A dull ache pulsed from her wound, but that wasn’t what had woken her. It was something cool pressing against her forehead, damp and soothing against the heat radiating from her skin.

Her eyes fluttered open, hazy at first, the dim lighting making it hard to focus. But then she saw him.

Dean was sitting beside her, forearms resting on his knees, his expression tight with something unreadable. He was holding a cloth in his hand, his fingers curled around the edge as he dabbed it against her forehead again.

Aza’s voice broke the silence, raspy but steady. “You should get some rest.”

Dean’s eyes flickered to her, and she saw the brief flash of concern in his gaze before he masked it again, his jaw tightening slightly. Without saying anything, he shifted the cloth once more and pressed it to her forehead. “I will,” he muttered. “When you aren’t half-dead and burning up.”

“I’m fine.” Aza replied, pushing herself upright even though the sharp pain in her side made her wince and sway slightly.

Dean was at her side in an instant, a hand resting lightly on her shoulder, steadying her. His voice softened, though there was an edge to it that left no room for argument. “Hey, take it easy.” he said, his eyes locking onto hers. “Don’t push it.”

Aza shot him a stubborn look, refusing to lean back against the cushions. Instead, she sat upright, her back against the backrest.

“I’ll live.” Her words were laced with more defiance than conviction, but she reached out for the damp towel in his hand, pressing it to her own forehead with a smile. “There, now you can rest.”

Dean didn’t move from his position. He couldn’t help but crack a small smile at the sight of her, the towel plastered comically on her forehead, the edge of one side almost covering her right eye.

It was a brief moment of levity, but it softened something in him. Even in the middle of all this, she could still manage to make him smile.

He shook his head, but his voice was laced with amusement. “You’re ridiculous.”

Aza shrugged. “You love it.”

Dean chuckled quietly, his gaze flickering away for just a moment. When he looked back at her, there was something softer in his eyes. “I do, yeah,” he admitted. He met her gaze for a beat longer before adding, “But you really need to rest.”

Aza’s lips curled slightly. “I will. After you.” She shifted slightly on the couch, patting the space next to her. “Come on. You look like you could use a break too.”

Dean hesitated for a beat, before taking a seat beside her, leaning back and draping an arm across the back of the couch.

“You’re a pain in the ass.” he muttered, but his tone was light, no real heat behind it.

Aza didn’t respond, her eyes closing as she finally let herself relax. She twisted slightly, trying to hide the discomfort her wound was bringing from sitting up.

Dean caught on instantly, sighing with a mix of frustration and concern. “Alright, since I’m already seated down here like you asked, can you please just lie down.”

Aza’s lips pressed into a thin line, but the brief flash of irritation in her eyes quickly faded, replaced by the exhaustion that was beginning to take over. She let out a quiet sigh in defeat.

Before Dean could say anything, she carefully shifted, grimacing as she leaned back onto the couch. She then swung her legs up, placing them across his lap and settling back down with a wince.

Dean blinked in surprise, letting his hand rest on her calf, his fingers lightly brushing her ankle in a way that was almost absent-minded. He shifted his posture slightly, trying to make her more comfortable without making it too obvious how much he wanted to ensure she was okay.

Aza’s gaze flickered to him briefly, not daring to meet his eyes directly, though there was a faint, almost shy, smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them comfortable but charged with an unspoken tension neither of them were ready to acknowledge just yet.

When Sam returned to the cabin later on, he couldn’t help but let out a quiet, amused laugh at the sight before him. Both of them were asleep, the scene more peaceful than he’d ever expected. Aza’s legs were draped across Dean’s lap, a blanket tucked over her. Dean sat upright, his head resting against the headrest, a subtle tension in his posture as his hands rested on the blanket-covered legs in his lap. Sam shook his head with a smile on his face, setting down the brown paper bag of food on the table.

Dean leaned against the cabin’s worn-out table, running a hand down his face. “Alright, so we found the damn nest, but it was already abandoned by the time we got there — except for you.” He shot Aza a pointed look from across the room, where she was still lying on the couch, propped up against the pillows.

Aza smirked slightly. “Yeah, sorry to disappoint. Not exactly the monster you were hunting.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but Sam, sitting at the table with his laptop open, was already deep in thought. “Aza, when you fought it, what exactly did you think you were dealing with?”

Aza thought for a moment, wincing slightly as she shifted. “It was definitely a wendigo… but there was something off about it.”

Dean straightened up, pushing off from the table. “Something off how?”

She hesitated, her expression thoughtful. “It was fast — too fast for a regular wendigo. Way stronger too.”

Dean sighed, “Great. So now we’re dealing with a wendigo on steroids. Awesome.”

Sam, still absorbed in his laptop, finally looked up, his voice steady. “We need to figure out what’s making this one so much stronger. If it’s not acting like a normal wendigo, then there’s something else at play. But it’s still a wendigo, and that means it has weaknesses we can exploit.”

Aza looked over at Sam, nodding slowly. “Yeah, fire and silver should still be the answer. But this thing — this wendigo — won’t be as easy to catch. It moves too quickly. We might have to change up the way we approach it.”

Dean crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “So what are you thinking?”

“I say we lure it out and set a trap. A wendigo’s territorial. If we give it reason to come after us… it’ll bite.” She replied.

Dean raised an eyebrow, his arms still crossed. “Yeah? And what exactly do you suggest we use as bait?”

Aza gave him a pointed look.

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh, hell no. You’re already half-dead, sweetheart. We’re not throwing you back into the fire just so this thing can take another shot at you.”

“Look, it makes sense.” Aza sighed, trying to reason with him, “Wendigos don’t just attack at random. They’re hunters. They pick targets carefully, stalk them for a while before striking. If this one is stronger, smarter, it might not fall for something obvious.”

Sam held up a hand before Dean could argue. “Go on.”

Aza leaned forward, her eyebrows furrowing as if deep in thought. “When I was in that cave… I didn’t just walk in on it. It seemed like it had been following me.”

Dean frowned, his gaze shifting from Aza to Sam. “You think it was tracking you?”

Aza nodded. “Something like that. I think it wanted to… well, have me for dinner.”

Both Sam and Dean grimaced at the thought.

“Anyways,” Aza continued, “My point is, if it followed me before, that means I was worth hunting.”

Sam looked between them. “We could use that to our advantage. If it’s focused on you, we could make it think you’re the target, then lure it into the trap.”

Dean’s expression darkened. “Yeah, let’s go ahead and put that idea right in the trash.”

Aza narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s a good idea.”

Dean scoffed, “It’s a good idea if you want to get yourself killed.”

“It’s a calculated risk, Dean.” Aza countered.

“That’s just a fancy way of saying ‘bad idea’ ” he shot back.

Sam was already thinking through the possibilities. “So, we set up an ambush. We use Aza as the bait, but we keep her at a safe distance. Once the wendigo takes the bait, we spring the trap, and then hit it hard.”

Dean turned sharply, levelling a glare at Sam. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

Aza sighed, standing up with a wince and approaching the table. “Look, obviously, I’m not thrilled about this either. I mean, I had that bastard’s mouth in my face, ready to chomp my head off. I’m not exactly dying to meet it again. But this isn’t about me. It’s about all the people it’s already killed, and the ones it’ll kill next if we don’t stop it. If doing this means saving them, then I’m in.”

Dean clenched his jaw, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all. He hated the idea of putting her in danger when she was already banged up. But the conviction in her voice, the fire in her eyes… hell, he knew that look. He’d worn it himself too many times to count.

And, like it or not, Aza was right. They had to stop that thing before it killed more people.

After a long pause, he exhaled sharply and muttered, “Fine. But, we need to make sure we have a backup plan in place. We can’t let this thing turn the tables on us.”

Aza met his gaze with a victorious smile, to which he simply rolled his eyes.

“I agree.” Sam said, laying out a map across the table. “But first, let’s go over the setup. We need a location — somewhere open enough to give us a clean shot but not so open that the wendigo gets spooked.”

Aza leaned over the map, her finger tracing the terrain. “There’s an old ranger station a few miles from here. Right around… here.” She tapped a spot. “Half-collapsed, middle of the woods, abandoned for years. That could work.”

Dean shot her a look. “And you know this… how?”

She smirked. “Because I do my homework before I go into a hunt.”

Dean’s gaze flicked pointedly at her injured side. “Yeah, that worked out real well for you.”

She ignored him, turning to Sam instead. “If the wendigo’s been hunting in that area, it probably knows the terrain. Which means it won’t hesitate to follow if we set the right trap.”

“Alright, that works.” Sam nodded, already typing in something into his laptop. “The station’s got a few entry points, but if we rig the right one, we can funnel it where we want.”

“We could set up torches or makeshift flamethrowers. Force it toward a choke point where we can take it out.” Aza added.

Dean drummed his fingers against the table. “Alright. So we lure it in, make sure it can’t bolt, then we hit it with everything we’ve got.” He glanced at Aza. “And you? After your little bait stunt, you stay out of reach.”

Aza tilted her head, narrowing her eyes as she crossed her arms. “Says who?”

“Says the guy who had to carry your bleeding ass out of a cave.” Dean arched a brow, daring her to argue.

Sam sighed, cutting in. “We’ll need supplies. Accelerants, and maybe some flares. Dean and I can head into town, grab what we need.”

Dean grabbed his jacket without hesitation, shrugging it on as he pushed Sam towards the door.

“You’re staying here.” he ordered, his tone final. “Rest. I’m not having you pass out halfway through this.”

Aza opened her mouth to protest, but the door slammed shut behind them before she could get a word out.

The next evening, the three of them made their way through the dense forest toward the abandoned ranger station. The air was crisp, the fading sunlight casting long shadows through the trees. The plan was simple in theory — trap the wendigo, burn it, and make sure none of them ended up as dinner. But they all knew hunts never went exactly as planned.

They reached the ranger station just as the last light of the sun dipped below the horizon. It was as rundown as Aza had described — half-collapsed walls, shattered windows, vines creeping over the structure. Perfectly isolated.

Sam set down his gear and pulled out a canister of gasoline. “Alright, let’s go over this one more time. The wendigo’s fast, but it’s still a creature of habit. It hunts by stalking, waiting until its prey is vulnerable.”

Aza nodded, crouching to unpack the supplies. “Which is why we make it think I am vulnerable. Draw it in close, but not too close.”

Dean knelt down beside her, grabbing a handful of flares. “We use the fire to corner it, block off its exits. Once it’s boxed in, we light it up.”

“If something goes wrong, we light up the emergency flares and fall back.” Sam finished.

Dean exhaled heavily, standing up and offering Aza a hand. “Let’s just make sure this works.”

She took it, letting him pull her to her feet. Their hands lingered for a moment, neither of them in a hurry to break the contact.

Dean gave her hand a light, firm squeeze, a silent gesture to stay safe. His gaze softened just slightly as he held her eyes for a beat longer than usual.

Sam, already moving, started placing the emergency flares at every exit, marking the escape routes. “We don’t have a lot of time before it starts hunting again. We need to be ready.”

Dean nodded, pulling his hand away from Aza, as the three of them began to work quickly.

By the time they were finished, night had fully settled in. The air was still, the forest unnervingly quiet.

Aza positioned herself near the center of the ranger’s station’s clearing, her posture relaxed — at least on the surface. Every instinct screamed at her to stay alert, to be ready. But this had to be convincing. She needed to look tired, wounded, like an easy target.

Dean and Sam took their places just out of sight, tucked behind the collapsed walls and thick underbrush, weapons at the ready. The fire traps were set, carefully laid out to box the wendigo in once it took the bait.

Dean’s grip tightened around his flare gun, his eyes locked on Aza through the darkness. She was out there alone, even if just for a moment, and it went against every instinct he had not to storm out and yank her back to safety.

Aza shifted her weight, wincing slightly as pain flared up her side. She didn’t have to fake that.

Then, the wind changed.

A faint rustling in the trees. A flicker of movement just beyond the tree line.

Aza forced herself to stay still, her breath steady even as her pulse picked up.

It was here.

From his hiding spot, Sam tensed, his fingers hovering over his lighter, ready to set off the first fire trap.

Aza slowly turned her head, sensing something was closing in.

The wendigo emerged from the shadows, towering and malevolent, its grotesque form stepping into the clearing, but not yet close enough to trigger the trap.

For a moment, Aza’s heart skipped a beat, fear flashing through her. Had it figured out their plan?

But the creature didn’t charge. Instead, it glanced down at the gaping, torn slump where its right arm had been, then back at her — almost with a sense of accusation.

Aza raised a brow, a half-smile tugging at her lips despite the tension. “Oh, right. That.” She grimaced, voice dropping with mock sympathy. “Sorry about that. You did try to eat me first, remember?”

Dean couldn’t help it — he let out a quiet, incredulous laugh from his hiding spot. Only Aza would be joking with a monster on the hunt.

A low guttural growl echoed from the creature. Then–

A blur of movement.

The wendigo lunged from the shadows.

Aza threw herself to the side, rolling onto her hands and knees just as the creature slammed into the ground where she’d been standing. It was bigger than she remembered — its gaunt, elongated limbs moving with terrifying speed, its milky eyes locked onto her.

The moment it stepped into the clearing, Sam flicked his lighter and tossed it onto the gasoline-soaked barrier.

Flames roared to life, illuminating the creature in an eerie glow.

But then as Dean moved out, it turned towards him.

Before Aza could even shout a warning, the wendigo lunged at him. Dean barely had time to raise his gun before the creature knocked him off his feat, sending him skidding across the dirt.

“Dean!” Sam was already moving, raising his flare gun and firing a shot. The bright flash of light barely fazed the wendigo — it recoiled for a split second before rounding on Sam instead.

Sam braced himself, swinging a burning branch he’d grabbed from the nearby fire trap. The wendigo dodged with unnatural speed, twisting out of the way before slamming its arm into Sam’s chest. He grunted as he was thrown back, crashing hard against a rotting wooden beam.

This wasn’t going how they planned.

Dean struggled to get up, but the wendigo was already on him again, clawed fingers closing around his throat. He gasped, kicking at the creature, but its grip was like a vice.

Sam groaned, still dazed from the impact, his weapon just out of reach.

Aza’s heart pounded. She wasn’t supposed to get involved — not directly — as Dean had repeated to her many times before.

But screw that.

Ignoring the pain in her side, she grabbed her silver knife hidden in her boot and pushed to her feet. Her vision swam for a second, but she forced herself forward.

The wendigo had Dean pinned now, its jagged teeth inches from his face.

Aza didn’t hesitate. She sprinted forward, leaping onto its back and driving the knife straight into the creature’s chest.

The wendigo shrieked, jerking away from Dean as the silver burned through its flesh. Aza yanked the blade out and stabbed it again, gritting her teeth as the creature writhed under her grip.

With a sudden motion, the wendigo whipped her off its back, flinging her across the ground. She crashed hard, the wind knocked out of her, and pain shot through her injured side.

Sam was already back up on his feet, his flare gun raised. This time, when he fired, the flare streaked through the air and slammed directly into the wendigo’s chest.

The wendigo howled, flames engulfing its body. Its movements turned frantic and erratic as it lurched forward, claws still outstretched, refusing to go down without a fight.

But before it could take another step, a gunshot rang out.

Dean’s silver bullet tore through the wendigo’s torso, the force sending it stumbling backward. It crashed into the smouldering wreckage behind it, the fire catching and spreading fast.

Aza panted, one hand pressed against her injured side as she watched the creature disintegrate in the burning wreckage. The flames crackled, the only sound in the otherwise silent clearing.

For a long moment, none of them spoke.

Then, Dean was next to her in an instant, his eyes scanning her body with a mix of concern and frustration. He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “What the hell happened to ‘staying out of it’?”

Aza gave him a tired grin, despite the sharp pain shooting through her side. “You’re welcome.” she said, her voice slightly strained. “For not letting you get eaten alive.”

Dean’s gaze softened, just a fraction, as he crouched down beside her. Without hesitation, he gently wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her weight as he helped her to her feet.

The moment his fingers made contact with her injured side, he felt the warmth of fresh blood seeping through her clothing. His eyes narrowed, realising that she had tore her stitches.

“Damn it, Aza.” he muttered, carefully peeling back her jacket to get a better look.

Aza didn’t argue, letting her cheek rest against his shoulder as he supported her out of the forest, the fire still burning bright behind them.

[dougdimmadodo]

Italian Three-Toed Skink (Chalcides chalcides)

Family: Skink Family (Scincidae)

IUCN Conservation Status: Least Concern

Like several other species of lizard, the Italian Three-Toed Skink has adapted to move through areas covered with dense vegetation by developing an elongated, flexible, snake-like body with highly regressed limbs, although unlike many other "snake-like lizards" members of this species still possess four tiny limbs, each ending in a stumpy three-toed foot. Said limbs are far too small to support the skink's weight and serve no role in movement (which is achieved through an elegant snake-like slithering motion,) which has led many to question what purpose, if any, they serve; it is generally assumed that the limbs are vestigial and that, given sufficient time, the descendants of modern Italian Three-Toed Skinks will lose them entirely, although some herpetologists and evolutionary biologists have suggested that the continued existence of this species' limbs suggests that they must serve some function, such as being moved as part of a courtship display or allowing mating individuals to hold onto one another (although as these behaviours have never been observed these suggestions are entirely speculative.) Found in damp, well-vegetated areas across most of mainland Italy as well as Tunisia, Algeria, Libya and the nearby island of Sardinia, members of this species are diurnal, feed mainly on insects and breed during the spring; like most skinks, females of this species give birth to live young, with newborns, which resemble miniature adults, being independent immediately after birth.

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Image Source: https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/53646-Chalcides-chalcides

[tribbetherium]

'Beta-twilight gives way to true night as the dim red sun vanishes below the horizon. In the dying scarlet gleam of its final rays, a number of winged, shadowy figures take to the air: a flock of dingbats. Dingbats, the most basal lineage of ratbats, are nocturnal flyers most convergent with Earth's true bats: clumsy on the ground with sprawled limbs, they prefer to hang from trees or rock cliffsides as they roost. They too have small eyes and poor vision, but compensate with large ears and disc-shaped snouts that allow them to navigate via echolocation, using sound, not sight, to find food and avoid obstacles. Highly succsessful, despite the presence of other diurnal ratbat species as well as wingles and pterodents, the dingbats number several hundred species strong, taking on niches such as insectivores hunting flying bugs in the air, nectar-feeders that feed on blooms that open in nighttime, and fruit-eaters that gorge on fruit and spread the seeds in their droppings.

The pictured species, the long-eared pyramidnose (Noctinyctimys pyramirrhinus) has developed a special relationship with the drooping teadrop (Cadopomus nyctophilus), a unique species of pebblefruit tree whose elongated fruits are dull green, but hang down from its branches well clear of its leaves. These are perfect for attracting its target seed-dispersers, who, being nocturnal, do not locate fruits by color but instead by echolocation, and by being in a clear flight path unobstructed by leaves and having a distinctive shape that registers a unique sonar signal to the dingbats, the tree ensures that its fruit will easily be found and more readily consumed by its partner species that allows it to propagate.'

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[radicalredrasp]

Hotwire

My TFA oc, a mini-con who’s an assassin willing to finish any bot for a good price.

While the hot pink of her paint job may get rid of the element of surprise that an assassin would need, she more than makes up for it in speed and agility. Pink is after all the colour of energon in the TFA series, so she is symbolically covered in it. (By that I mean blood)

She comes equipped with a built in hot wiring kit and a static blaster, which allows her to stun or immobilize her enemies. She also had elongating limbs, they’re fun to mess around with when I draw her ngl.

As the name implies she has a hot temper. While, not ideal for the job, can benefit her in some ways. Quick decision making. Where she stirs in an idea. Ex: If someone does her wrong or costs her a potential client, she will hang onto that bitterness and make sure they suffer severely. Her acts of revenge are well thought out and cruelly catered to the bot (or human) in question.

Even with her fiery attitude and clear resentment issues- she does have a warped sense of justice. She sanctifies violence, believing it to be the only way to enact change. She doesn’t work for a specific faction (ooooh spooky) but does want to help anyone she has the time for. But a lot of her ‘help’ comes from what she thinks is right for others.

[whiskeybottlebullshit]

I have another GenLossAU

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Generation Loss AU related. RGB Trio being ghosts and Hetch being a medium/ghost hunter And just has these three teenage/young adult ghosts that *won't* leave him alone and *refuse* to pass on They just... form attachment to him And he can't figure out why But nothing he does will get them to pass on Or sever the connections So he just goes around on his side job with these three ghosts that can turn into these ghastly things And he doesn't wanna re-traumatize them by asking about their deaths But he also doesn't know *when* they died Because they refuse to give their actual names They just go by 'Ran'/'Ranboo', 'Sneeg'/'Sneegsnag', and 'Slime'/'Slimecicle' Like, the abomination forms could be how they defend/scare off other harmful haunts.

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Ranboo Abomination Form:

Name: Devourer

Appearance: A humanoid abomination with a muscular upper body, mechanical clawed limbs, and a grotesque secondary jaw.

Height: About 7ft(?)

Identifying Features:

Face: Metal mask covering the lower half of the face; when removed, reveals an expanding, gaping maw lined with needle-like teeth.

Eyes: Piercing and predatory.

Hair: Brown, wild, and unkempt.

Arms & Legs: Elongated, reinforced with biomechanical structures, ending in razor-sharp talons.

Torso: Features biomechanical plating with glowing red markings embedded in the back.

Clothing: Tattered dark shorts; remains of past human appearance.

Notable Capabilities:

Enhanced agility and strength, capable of quadrupedal movement.

Devouring mechanism within the face, suggesting a monstrous feeding ability.

Mechanical enhancements imply cybernetic augmentation or forced experimentation.

It'd only be when he feels threatened or protective/defensive.

—————————

Sneeg - 1950s/1960s - child/teen that got too curious about sci-fi and mutated heroes and bugs, and was given the uranium science kit and probably rebellious enough to get into a place he shouldn’t be and got irradiated and died slowly and painfully without really knowing what was going on

Slimecicle - 1900s/1910s - 11-12 year old child who suffered with constant illness, maybe Tuberculosis or Arsenic poisoning, maybe even both considering the time, with the arsenic making him weak enough to catch tuberculosis, that was ignored as allergies or faking for attention until he was found dead in his bed one morning.

Ranboo - 1990s/2000s - missing persons case works best, 17 years old and gay. Perhaps early internet chat room with someone and his body was never found but there’s rumors about the woods around the small town and kids around Ranboo’s age, 15-19, mysteriously go missing with only accessories or shoes found and children 12 and younger are found in strange places they shouldn’t be able to get to but are found alive

Hetch - 2019-2022(Current time period, maybe during the Covid pandemic) - Maybe works as a librarian for a day job but his side job is ghost hunting/medium work. He’s in his early-mid 20s and enjoys urban exploration as a hobby to capture decades past before it crumbles away or is destroyed.

Sneeg wouldn’t have gotten into a science facility unless he fell into a radiation vat and got irradiated/died that way, which is highly unlikely considering the way those places are handled. Also, Slime died at home, Sneeg would have died in a hospital, Ranboo’s body is just… missing.

The question now is how would he have met these three. It wouldn't have been in their abomination forms but instead their human forms. Not all at once either, ‘Slime’ is the oldest attached, ‘Ranboo’ is the newest, ‘Sneeg’ is in the middle of the two.

[new-dinosaurs]

Kiyacursor longipes Averianov et al., 2024 (new genus and species)

(Type specimen of Kiyacursor longipes, from Averianov et al., 2024)

Meaning of name: Kiyacursor = Kiya River runner [in Latin]; longipes = long foot [in Latin]

Age: Early Cretaceous (Aptian)

Where found: Ilek Formation, Kemerovo Oblast, Russia

How much is known: Partial skeleton of one individual including several vertebrae and limb bones. A partial neck vertebra found at the same site may belong to the same individual.

Notes: Kiyacursor was a ceratosaurian theropod. It resembles the Late Jurassic ceratosaurs Elaphrosaurus of Tanzania and Limusaurus of China in having relatively elongate lower legs and feet, suggesting that it was well adapted for fast running. The type specimen of Kiyacursor is estimated to have been 2.5 m long in total body length, but it probably had not finished growing when it died.

Although ceratosaurs are known from the Late Cretaceous of Europe and especially the Southern Hemisphere, Kiyacursor is the youngest known ceratosaur from Asia. In addition to Kiyacursor, the Ilek Formation has produced fossils of various other animals that are more characteristic of Jurassic ecosystems, including certain types of proto-salamanders, proto-crocodylians, and proto-mammals. This may indicate that what is now Western Siberia acted as a "lost world" for some Jurassic animal groups during the Early Cretaceous.

(Select bones and schematic skeletal of Kiyacursor longipes [scale bar refers only to the skeletal and not to the photographs of bones], from Averianov et al., 2024)

Reference: Averianov, A.O., P.P. Skutschas, A.A. Atuchin, D.A. Slobodin, O.A. Feofanova, and O.N. Vladimirova. 2024. The last ceratosaur of Asia: a new noasaurid from the Early Cretaceous Great Siberian Refugium. Proceedings of the Royal Society B 291: 20240537. doi: 10.1098/rspb.2024.0537

[thornsinwinter]

Day 6: Spy

Morning light filtered through new leaves as Lucien woke alone. The space beside him on the makeshift bed was empty, the impression of Tamlin's body still visible in the moss. Three days had passed since their first night together. Three days of Tamlin spending more time in fae form than beast form. Lucien ran his hand over the indentation, warmth spreading through his chest. Hope, he realized. 

Lucien dressed quickly and moved through the manor. No sign of Tamlin inside. The rain from the other night had washed away years of dust, leaving the broken halls smelling of wet stone and new growth, each day bringing Spring drizzles. The scent reminded him of renewal, of second chances, something he'd hoped was possible for this broken court.

He found footprints in the mud outside—not paw prints, but the impression of bare feet. Tamlin had left in fae form. That was progress. Lucien felt a surge of satisfaction at this small victory. Every hour Tamlin spent on two legs instead of four felt like reclaiming a piece of who he had once been.

Lucien followed the tracks through the wild gardens, past twisted statues reclaimed by vines. The footprints led to the edge of the woods where the trees grew taller, darker, more ancient than Lucien remembered. He shivered slightly, still unaccustomed to how the court had transformed in his absence. Guilt pricked at him. He should have come sooner. Should have tried harder.

Voices drifted through the trees. One of them was Tamlin's.

Lucien approached cautiously, keeping behind the thick trunk of an oak. From his vantage point, he could see a clearing where Tamlin stood among a dozen of the changed fae. Curiosity and wariness battled within him, old habits die hard after all, and the instinct to gather information before revealing himself ran bone deep.

Tamlin remained in his fae form, though the antlers still crowned his head and golden fur still covered his forearms. He still only wore the simple linen wrap around his waist but Lucien was happy with small victories. Before him lay what appeared to be a crude map drawn in the dirt and Lucien's heart quickened. This was something he hadn’t seen from Tamlin since arriving—planning, organization, leadership. 

"The border thins here," Tamlin said, pointing to a section of the map. His voice sounded different. Less growl, more command. "We need to strengthen it."

One of the changed fae, a female with bark for skin, stepped forward. "It bleeds power. Has for years."

"I know." Tamlin's clawed hand brushed over the map. "We've let too much of Spring's essence leak away."

"Why fix now?" Another fae asked. This one had elongated limbs and moss for hair. "Court is wild. Strong."

"Wild, yes," Tamlin said. "But not balanced."

The word struck Lucien like a physical blow. Balance. Exactly what he'd been trying to help Tamlin find. The fact that Tamlin had said it unprompted sent a wave of relief through him so strong it nearly made his knees buckle. Lucien leaned forward, straining to hear better. His foot snapped a twig. The sound seemed deafening in the morning stillness. 

Cauldron damn it.

All heads but one turned toward his hiding place. The changed fae hissed, some dropping to all fours in defensive postures and other’s sprouting deadly looking thorns.

"It's only Lucien," Tamlin said without turning around, straightening to his full height. "Come out. No need to spy."

Caught, Lucien stepped from behind the tree. The changed fae watched him with wary eyes as he approached.  "Sorry," Lucien said. "Didn't want to interrupt." 

"You're not." Tamlin gestured to the map. "We're planning to repair the court's boundaries."

Relief washed over Lucien. No anger, no accusation in Tamlin's tone. Just simple inclusion, as if Lucien belonged here. As if perhaps he had never stopped belonging. Lucien studied the crude lines drawn in the dirt. They roughly matched the borders of Spring as he remembered them, though with strange markings in several locations.

"These marks?" he asked, pointing.

"Weak points," Tamlin explained. "Places where Spring's power bleeds into the surrounding lands. It's been happening for years."

"Since you stopped maintaining the court properly," Lucien said before he could stop himself.

Tamlin's eyes flashed, pupils narrowing to vertical slits for a moment before returning to something more fae-like. "Yes."

The simple admission stunned Lucien. The old Tamlin would have roared, would have lashed out. This acceptance of responsibility was new, and it made something tight in Lucien's chest loosen.

The bark-skinned female approached, less wary of Lucien than the others. "High Lord remembers now. Court needs care."

"I'm not..." Tamlin began, then stopped. "I'm trying to find balance. The court needs it too."

"What changed your mind?" Lucien couldn't stop himself from asking, needing to hear it spoken aloud.

Tamlin looked at him, really looked at him, green eyes steady. "You."

The single word hit Lucien like a physical force. You. One syllable that contained so much meaning. You came back. You didn't give up. You saw me when no one else did. Emotion clogged his throat, preventing response.

The changed fae moved away, giving them space, though they remained within sight. Tamlin crouched by the map again, adding details with a clawed finger. "I thought surrender was easier," Tamlin said. "Let the beast take over. Let Spring run wild. No responsibility."

"And now?" Lucien asked, crouching beside him. He held his breath, afraid of pushing too far, of breaking this fragile moment.

"Now I think there's strength in both parts of me." Tamlin traced the border of his territory. "The wild and the civilized."

Lucien watched Tamlin's hands—still clawed but moving with precision, with purpose. "You're planning to restore the court?" He tried to keep the excitement from his voice, not wanting to push too hard.

"Not restore. Transform." Tamlin looked up, meeting Lucien's gaze. "Spring was dying under the old ways. It was too rigid, too concerned with appearances even after I became High Lord. But this—" he gestured to the wilderness around them, "—this isn't right either."

One of the changed fae approached with a handful of seeds, dropping them onto the map. Tamlin picked one up, examining it.

"We're going to plant new sentinels at the borders," he explained. "Trees that will grow from these seeds will hold the court's essence, keep it from bleeding away."

"That's... surprisingly practical," Lucien admitted. 

He almost laughed at how mundane it sounded—planting trees to shore up magical borders. So simple, yet so effective. The changed fae gathered the seeds, distributing them among themselves. They moved with new purpose, their chaotic movements now containing hints of order.

"Some will come with me to plant," Tamlin said, rising. "Others will prepare for the ritual tonight to help draw back Spring’s magic. You're welcome to join either group."

"You'd trust me at the ritual?" Lucien asked, surprised.

"I trust you with all of me," Tamlin said simply. 

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Three nights of shared warmth had changed something fundamental between them, had perhaps changed something fundamental in Tamlin himself. Lucien felt simultaneously humbled and empowered by the trust placed in him. After all they'd been through—betrayals on both sides, years of separation—this felt like redemption.

"I'll come with you," Lucien decided. "To plant the sentinels." 

Tamlin nodded, then turned to the gathered fae. "We leave now. The Summer border first."

The changed fae moved with surprising coordination, forming groups, gathering supplies. Lucien saw glimmers of what they must have been before—household fae, soldiers, gardeners—their original natures not entirely lost to the wild transformations. 

As they prepared to depart, Tamlin stepped close to Lucien, voice low. "You don't need to spy, you know. You can just ask."

Heat rose in Lucien's cheeks. "Old habits," he admitted. "I wanted to see what you'd do without me watching." The truth was more complicated—fear that Tamlin's progress was an act rather than genuine, that he reverted to beast-like behavior when alone. Now Lucien knew better.

"And?"

"And I'm proud of you." The words came easily, honestly. Lucien realized he meant them more deeply than he could express.

Tamlin's purr started, soft but audible. He pressed his forehead briefly against Lucien's before stepping away, finally letting himself slip into his beast form.

"Let's go fix what I broke," Tamlin said, leading the way into the forest.

......

I can't believe @tamlinweek is almost over! Seeing everyone's creations, thoughts, and feelings has been absolutely wonderful.

Tomorrow will be the epilogue! I hope you've enjoyed this weird and wild ride.

[seniorpollinationtechnician]

Despite their best efforts, the team couldn't locate Jorlan. Every attempt to trace his steps proved futile no matter how many devices they deployed. Then, just as suddenly as he had vanished, Jorlan returned. One evening, as the team gathered for their evening meal, he stumbled into the research station. Everyone rushed to greet him, bombarding him with questions about where he had been and what he had seen. Jorlan, however, remained tight-lipped. They assumed his reluctance to talk stemmed from a traumatic experience and in wanting to respect his privacy, they didn't push for answers. The team tried their best to support Jorlan but found it difficult to do when he began to exhibit strange behaviors. It was subtle at first. He became more reclusive, often avoiding social gatherings and spending long hours in the lab. His normally meticulous work grew erratic with unfinished projects and nonsensical reports. He was frequently lost in thought, his eyes unfocused and distant, as if he were somewhere far away. As days turned into weeks, Jorlan's condition worsened. He started missing routine check-ins and meetings, a stark contrast to his previously punctual nature. When approached, he would brush off concerns with a weak smile, insisting he was fine, but his pallor and the dark circles under his eyes told a different story. Eventually, he fell ill. It began with a persistent cough that quickly escalated into severe fatigue. Jorlan, who once navigated the station with purpose and energy, now moved sluggishly, his steps unsteady. He rarely left his room, and when he did, it was only for brief moments before retreating back into the confines of his quarters. One morning, as the light cast a long shadow across the research station, the ORION team members went about their tasks, unaware that what they'd been harboring for the past few weeks had reached maturity. Jorlan, who had been confined to his room for days, emerged unexpectedly. His appearance was shocking; his skin had taken on a sickly brownish hue, and his eyes, once bright and intelligent, were now clouded and devoid of emotion. He moved with a jerky, unnatural gait, his body seeming to struggle against some internal force. The team gathered around him, alarmed by his sudden appearance and worsening condition. They pleaded with him to return to his room, to let them help him, but Jorlan did not respond. Instead, he let out a guttural, inhuman growl. His body convulsed violently, and before their eyes, he began to change. Vines and tendrils erupted from his skin, tearing through his suit. His limbs elongated and twisted into grotesque shapes, covered in thorny growths. His face distorted and lost all semblance of humanity as it morphed into a gaping, petal-like maw that split open into a star-shaped pattern. With terrifying strength and speed, he lunged at the nearest team member, his thorny appendages slicing through the air. Panic erupted as the team scrambled to defend themselves, but they were no match for the creature Jorlan had become. He moved with deadly precision, his new form imbued with a primal, savage intelligence. The station descended into chaos. Alarms blared, and lights flickered as the team members fought desperately to contain the creature. But he was relentless, his plant-like body impervious to their efforts. One by one, they fell, succumbing to his vicious assault. Amid the carnage, it became clear that Jorlan was no longer acting of his own will. His attacks were calculated, as if driven by a singular purpose. After incapacitating the entire team, he somehow managed to override the ship's controls and force it to return to their home planet. The citizen's of Sixam were caught completely off guard. The luminescent cities and serene landscapes became battlegrounds as the monstrous plant creatures descended upon them and overwhelmed the unprepared populace with brutal efficiency. The few survivors, driven to the fringes of civilization, could only watch in horror as their world was overrun.

[hanayori89]

Encapsulate the Hate

*Temple of Time*

"Zelda! Stand back!" The command that left Link's voice was overpowered by the clanging of Dark Link's sword against Ilia. Link kept one arm raised upward with Zelda securely behind it while he continued to flail the Rod of Dominion around with the other. Each wave and throw ushered forth an order for Dark to obey.

Link couldn't help but wince every time Dark Link's sword pierced a part of Ilia's flesh. Her shadow was fruitless, showing no signs of slowing down. Link, on the other hand...

"Linky! Got any other strategies besides bouncing me up and down like a yo-yo?" Even his own shadow sounded weary. As if he could cut off one of Ilia's limbs and use it for a pillow. Link hid the alarm he felt at seeing Dark devoid of his usual bombastic arrogance. He needed to develop another plan to coax Ilia's shadow into its true form.

And fast.

Dark was once again airborne, his sword clashing against Ilia's arm. But as he ruptured her filthy flesh with yet another slice of his sword, all Ilia's shadow did was laugh.

Dark landed on his feet, positioning his sword in front of him once more. Link could see him crouch, his knees beginning to slightly bend.

What is he... goddesses, a spin attack?! He'll kill her!

Zelda rested her hand on Link's shoulder. Her collected tone offered enough reassurance to assuage Link's own wavering confidence. "Link, do not fear for Ilia. If we seal the shadow within the powers of our Triforce, we can return Ilia to her former self before the possession."

Link didn't turn around to respond. He gave her a coy glance over his shoulder, allowing his eyes to answer on his behalf. Once their gazes met, Zelda erupted into a brilliant smile. One that Link was sure would cost hundreds of rupees to procure. "When this is over, we need to talk about what happened in Castle Town with Aryn. Don't think I forgot."

"Z-Zelda! You're bringing this up now!?"

"Why not? You act as if you are busy at the moment." Zelda politely nodded her head forward to the scene unraveling in front of them. Link sighed, realizing the ass reaming he thought he had escaped was only merely in postponement.

Link could see a ray of light sprinkle itself down Dark Link's sword shaft. A violent light show was about to begin, with Link seated in the front row.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LAUGHING AT?" Dark hissed, and the light radiating throughout the sword became brighter. Link could see the faintest twist of his ankle as he was getting ready to spin at Ilia.

"I-I TEND TEND TO TO FIND THINGS FIND THINGS WEAKER WEAKER THAN ME THAN ME FUNNY FUNNY HAHAHAHA!!!"

Link followed Dark's footwork. Crouching so low, his knees were almost parallel to the temple floor. He gripped the Rod of Dominion, ready to launch forward in a frenzied whirlwind.

"SHUT YOUR UGLY MOUTH!" Dark's insult left his lips in a raging slur as he spun. Link spun in conjunction, an amalgamation of light sputtering around him as he heard the consistent collisions of Dark's blade. Each flash of light caught in Link's peripheral vision was sure to be a body part of Ilia's that was desecrated.

Or severed. The thought made Link slow to a halt.

When he collected himself into a steady stance, he didn't see the mangled body of Ilia, but his shadow standing there in bewilderment.

"MMPHH!" Link twirled around to see the shadow with its elongated limbs of depravity wrapped around Zelda.

"Zelda!" Link snarled. "Release her, Cretan!"

Dark stood ready at Link's side, muttering beneath his breath. "Damn princess is always a problem."

Link ignored him. His eyes were trained on the complacent smile of the shadow. Dark Link erupted, "That smug smile pisses me off!" His eager stance demonstrated his readiness to propel towards Ilia and Zelda at any moment. Only for Link to wave the Rod of Dominion, seizing him in place.

"You are on my last nerve!" Link snapped.

"MMPH!" Zelda murmured once more. Link noticed that, despite her eyes being wide and bursting with horror, she was not fighting back. In fact, she was eerily still for being encumbered by such an abominable creature. He noticed her pupils frantically rolling about like marbles scattering across the floorboards that were her sclera. Then Link homed in on them; they were going back and forth. As if she were attempting to allude to something.

The wicked shadow's grin pulled back into its head. Its uncomfortably familiar direction pulled the scalp upward, causing the eyes to mimic slits much like the ones that now disfigured Ilia.

That mutant smile wasn't unusual for what Link had seen of the evil creature. But what was unusual was the presence of an amber eyeball lodged in between its razor-sharp teeth.

Oh, Ilia... forgive me.

Link looked down at the floor, his expression downtrodden. He released a heavy exhalation of breath, a sedate warning. "Please, release her."

"OR OR WHAT WHAT?" The shadow again gave its gravelly laugh, which made Link's stomach lurch in sickness.

"Or..." He began to twirl the Rod of Dominion in slow circles around the temple floor. His eyes fluttered open between the threads of his bangs, which were now coated in sweat. The tempo at which he spun the rod began to accelerate. It was time to end this.

"OR I'LL KNOCK YOUR TEETH IN!" Dark, sensing the exhilaration in Link's tone, leapt forward.

"SHIT, FINALLY!" He grabbed the hilt of his blade, launching forth and knocking it into the shadow's teeth. Dark's laugh was maniacal. Link knew that as much as the shadow in Ilia was evil, his own demon was not too far down the ladder. He was going to enjoy every moment of this carnage.

In the most twisted way, Link was also enjoying it.

Zelda plopped to the ground. Link quickly ran to her aid, pulling her up by the hands and running backward with her. Their backs to the massacre that was going to unfold.

The golden eye was now on full display, with some of the teeth knocked out. Dark bellowed in a fit of laughter at the sight of the eye. As if he had uncovered some sort of buried treasure.

"I BET YOU'RE NOT SO TOUGH WITHOUT THIS." He drove his sword down, straight into the exposed pupil of the shadow. Warm blood sprayed onto the back of Link's neck. His nose was instantly hit with a strong metallic scent as more blood spritzed over his shoulder onto Zelda's face.

Link twirled his head around. The sight was despicable. Dark Link kept plunging the sword in and out of the beast's eyeball. The scream it caused suspended Link in place. The image of Dark reminded him of the way he had lost control with the Stalkin.

In that moment, Link had been crucified by his own hatred. It was on display right in front of him, being acted out by two shadows. This is what Hylia wanted him to witness. She had never forsaken him.

She wanted him to know that not even a hero is immune to the vile things that lie in their darkest depths. For some, it is jealousy. For others, it was greed. Then there were those who were angry.

But for Link, it was fear. Bitterness. Resentment.

Insecurity.

He was a hero, not a saint.

Link decided then, as one more splash of blood blitzed across his face, that he would encapsulate his own self-hatred along with his shadow.

They would make very welcome company with each other.

Edited: 3/23/25

As the battle between shadows wages onward, Link realizes he has more in common with Dark than he thinks.

As they continue to fight for Ilia's freedom and life, Link can't overcome the question that lurks overhead... when will he have to fight against himself?

Check out my other completed OOT Zelda work- No Woman Beyond

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Animals

for your next poem/story (pt. 2)

Accentor - a small Eurasian songbird with generally drab-colored plumage

Brach - a female hound

Culver - a dove or pigeon

Diprotodon - a monotypic genus of Australian Pleistocene herbivorous marsupials related to the kangaroos, resembling a rhinoceros in size, and walking on four legs

Eyas - an unfledged bird, specifically: a nestling hawk

Falanouc - (or Falanaka) a viverrine mammal, Eupleres goudotii, of Madagascar closely related to the Asiatic palm civet

Gerenuk - a large-eyed antelope (Litocranius walleri) of eastern Africa with a long neck and limbs

Huemul - (or Guemal) either of two small South American deer, Hippocamelus bisulcus and H. antisiensis, having simple forked antlers

'I'iwi - Hawaiian honeycreeper (Vestiaria coccinea) with chiefly bright vermilion plumage formerly used in making feather cloaks

Jerboa - any of several social nocturnal jumping rodents (family Dipodidae) of arid parts of Asia and northern Africa having a long tail and long hind legs

Kinkajou - a nocturnal arboreal omnivorous mammal (Potos flavus) found from Mexico to South America that is related to the raccoon and has a long prehensile tail, large eyes, and yellowish brown fur

Leveret - a hare in its first year

Murre - any of a genus (Uria) of black-and-white alcids, especially: a common seabird (U. aalge) of northern seas

Nyala - an antelope (Tragelaphus angasii) of southeastern Africa with vertical white stripes on the sides of the body, a dorsal crest of hair from the neck to the base of the tail, and in the male shaggy black hair along the underside; also: a related antelope (T. buxtoni) of Ethiopia

Olm - an elongated European cave-dwelling aquatic salamander (Proteus anguinus) with permanent external gills and small eyes covered by the skin

Pudu - a small reddish deer (Pudu pudu) of the Chilean Andes having simple antlers resembling spikes and standing only 12 or 13 inches high

Quarrion - cockatiel (i.e., a crested small gray Australian parrot, Nymphicus hollandicus, with a yellow head)

Rorqual - any of a family (Balaenopteridae) of large baleen whales that have relatively small heads, short, broad plates of baleen, and the skin of the throat marked with deep longitudinal furrows and that include the blue whale, humpback whale, minke whale, fin whale, and sei whale

Spatangid - a sea urchin of the suborder Spatangina; heart urchin

Turaco - any of a family (Musophagidae) of typically crested African birds that are related to the cuckoos and have a long tail, a short stout often colored bill, and red wing feathers

Urubu - black vulture (i.e., an American vulture, Coragyps atratus, that is smaller than the turkey buzzard and heavier in flight)

Vicuña - a long-necked mammal (Lama vicugna synonym Vicugna vicugna) of the Andes from Peru to Argentina that is related to but somewhat smaller than the guanaco, has a light brown woolly coat that is paler below, is considered to the be ancestor of the alpaca, and has been historically hunted for its wool and meat

Widgeon - any of several freshwater ducks (genus Mareca)

Xiphosura - an order of arthropods comprising the horseshoe crabs and extinct related forms and usually including only the two recent genera Limulus (synonym Xiphosurus) with representatives along the American coast of the Atlantic and Tachypleus with species along the Asiatic coast of the Pacific

Zokor - a burrowing rodent (Myotalpa aspalax) native to the Altai mountains that resembles a mole rat

More: Word Lists ⚜ Part 1