#it would take way less energy to get than hunting prey

[ohfugecannada]

Flora Colossai/Groot Headcanon 1/?: Diet and Eating

Though they can mostly sustain themselves on water and sunlight like most plants and trees, The Flora colossi are technically opportunistic omnivores. They can/will eat solid food such as fruit, vegetables and/or even meat if the circumstances call for it.

When they are driven to hunt, flora colossi can use their shapeshifting powers to make themselves look like non-sentient trees and ambush prey of small to medium-sized animals.

Though, again, most modern day Flora Colossi sustain themselves fine on water/sunlight a good chunk of the time, so eating solid foods like fruit or meat is pretty much optional for them.

Flora Colossi such as the Guardians of the galaxy’s Groot even seem to enjoy eating solid food for fun. Particularly in social situations like when he’s with teammates such as Rocket.

[tauforged]

if we assume warframes have some amount of biological function rather than being meat suits, it would only stand that in the process of becoming protoframes, the hex would not only change appearance-wise but the way their bodies FUNCTION would change as well as their behavior. I don't have solid ideas for everyone YET, BUT i'll elaborate on what i have so far below...

we don't have a lot of solid info about how cyte-09's kit would work, but being that he's a sniper-centric frame, it makes sense that quincy would start to subconsciously adapt to that 'ambush predator' function, in terms of behavior and also metabolism.

instinctually he feels safest/most comfortable when he's somewhere High Up and Isolated. he likes a vantage point, not much else to it. randomly feeling compelled to climb on top of shit and Perch even outside of patrols while just hanging out because it just feels more secure

bradymetabolic -- his 'natural' state is objectively slowed down in comparison to a normal human being, his resting heartrate is slow his body temp tends to be lower and he can go considerably longer in between meals if he isn't actively making an effort to eat on a schedule. his body is rewiring itself to be best suited towards finding a vantage point and lying in wait, staying as still as possible and expending as little energy as he can until the moment is just right.

HOWEVER, the moment something triggers him to act fast (usually in combat situations although its technically a 'prey response') his metabolism will kick into overdrive and he strikes FAST. for the brief period where he's active, heart rate and body temp shoot up and he burns through however much energy he's been storing in the interim. once the adrenaline wears off, though, he's back to business as usual. if he's in a high-energy situation for an extended amount of time, though, he runs the risk of exhausting himself, hyperventilating, or overheating.

tends to blink less than it seems like he should and picks up a habit of unintentionally holding his breath. trigger finger twitches unintentionally when he's focused on something/someone in a way that kinda resembles how dart frogs will tap their toes while hunting or how the raptors in jurassic park click their claws on the ground. develops and exaggerated freeze response -- when something startles him when he isnt expecting it, he goes completely stock still in an attempt to 'blend in' and wait out the threat.

on the opposite end, amir adopts a fucking hummingbird metabolism. he runs hot and fast and needs to eat a lot more than you would expect because his body is CONSTANTLY. GOING. he's somewhere int he middle between regular human and obligate nectar-eater -- he processes sugars WAY faster/easier than normal and is pretty dependent on them for energy in the immediate moment, although he does still have the capacity to store longer-lasting energy for later rather than having to eat every thirty minutes lest he starve to death. the more active he is, the more demand is on him, though and he is VERY fucking active. he's built to be on the move 24/7 now, and gets really antsy when 'at rest' because even when wholly idle his body burns energy like a motherfucker and it makes him restless. constantly craving sweet things because his body is demanding sugar NOW or we are going to DIE (this is not true, he's mostly being dramatic, but he DOES feel adverse effects from lack of food or water much sooner than he normally would)

can take short rests that are basically like power naps where he sleeps "normal", but when he actually Sleep sleeps he goes into a torpor state to preserve his energy, slowing down and dropping his body temp and it takes him between 20min to an hour to actually Wake Up completely. does not like doing this but while his body is meant to be constantly moving, his brain still runs on a human schedule and he Needs to get actual sleep. he needs to hard reboot every couple days or else he starts fighting demons. you know how it is.

aside from inconvenient desires to eat raw meat/random animals (imagining excal as an obligate carnivore just feels right), arthur isn't too METABOLICALLY different from the average human, but behaviorally he is fighting for his life. in contrast to quincy preferring open, elevated spaces, arthur is compelled to seek out dark tight enclosed spaces and hole up like a sick animal looking for a place to die (he's fine, but the way he's always stressing out crosses some wires in his brain and makes him Feel like he's dying)

you can tell when arthur and quincy have been getting on eachothers nerves or arguing because they will Immediately retreat to their respective territories to Sulk (quincy starts climbing on top of the stage light scaffolding, arthur is in the security office trying to find a dignified way to crawl under a table). it's objectively really funny to witness. they both do this when theyre in bad moods but when theyre BOTH doing it the chance of it being coincidence is very very low

both arthur and eleanor are VERY catlike, not really in a cutesy fun 'uwu nya' way, but in a 'bites people and knocks shit over and gets random bursts of energy at ungodly hours and feels compelled to chase things that move like prey' way . eleanor leans into this and does not care, she is biting you as a show of affection and you WILL accept that. arthur hates it and suppresses it at all times. catboy instincts calling to him like the green goblin mask 24/7

in tandem with the 'aoi's teeth are more like a squid beak and are dark in color because they're reinforced with metal' hc ive discussed before, i feel like she might feel the urge to try and Consume metallics somehow to feed that process. or maybe her constant melting down and playing with metal is how she assimilates it. not sure yet

i have not many ideas regarding trinity or lettie yet because i almost never play trin and dont have a good handle on how her kit would translate to biological functions LMFAOO im so sorry girl i love you so much but im still chewing on this one. welcome to ideas!

aaand of course, the conversation that started it all:

and the grand finale: bullying arthur

[bazookaboi]

AUTISM CREATURE RANT [PART I]

@copperpipes I summon thee. 

So! This is the first official large rant I am going off about with my version of the TBH/autism creature/yippee whatever you call this lil dude by. 

School is quite meh right now so I couldn’t focus or write this nearly as well as I wanted to. I should have done more triple checking. >:(

Ok, um, let’s get started.

WHAT IS (my version of) THE AUTISM CREATURE?

The Autismus, also known as the TBH, yippee or autism creature(s) is an extraterrestrial genus known for its distinctive behaviour, hunting methods and high intelligence. This genus contains a few species adapted exceptionally for their corresponding environment, But today I will be focusing on one particular specimen; the Autismus niveus niveus, also known as the TBH-A1. 

(I may change the scientific name later… I’m still deciding.)

Oh, and if you are wondering what the “A1” on TBH-A1 means, it’s a way of calling them that I have developed so that I don’t have to say their long scientific names every single time I want to refer to an Autismus species. the A=species and 1=subspecies. TBH is what you can call the Autismus genus in general, as I said before- not referring to a specific species in particular. So, for example, there are TBHs like TBH-A2, TBH-A3, TBH-B2, TBH-C4 and so on.

Well then, back to the TBH-A1:

BODY PLAN:

As you can observe in the drawing of TBH-A1, It’s body is bilateral with symmetrical sensory organs. 

It has an endoskeleton, because it is way more efficient than an internal or external exoskeleton for its way of life. An exoskeleton would be much heavier and lacking in mobility compared to an endoskeleton, and although it would provide the body with better protection, the TBH-A1 needs to be lightweight and agile to capture its prey quickly.

For this same reason of weight and agility, it walks in a digitigrade stance with all four limbs, meaning that it moves around on its phalanges (toes) with the rest of its foot lifted. This also helps with stealth.

Its olfactory organs are separated from its airways, with two hidden nasal cavities found near the middle of its facial disk, and two breathing holes located on the back of its head. Its front-facing pair of eyes and single mouth are visible on its facial disk.

The TBH-A1 has serrated retractable claws. There are four of these on each “paw”.

Its head is large relative to the rest of its body, due to its large sensory organs and powerful jaws/muscles for detecting and catching prey.

HABITAT:

The planet that the TBH-A1 lives on is quite cold in general, but the part that it lives in particularly is really quite freezing, with subzero temperatures. Due to this, TBH-A1 has developed various ways to maintain the heat needed to survive: 

I] The TBH-A1 is an endotherm, meaning that it produces and regulates its own body temperature. This is necessary for their hunting and living style. Although ectotherms with proper antifreeze proteins or antifreeze chemicals in their organism would also be able to survive, they would have a significantly lower metabolism than an endotherm. The exposure to cold would naturally lower their metabolic processes, and they wouldn’t need to burn as much energy as an endotherm to keep warm, who in turn, would need more, but this would ultimately make an ectotherm slower and less active, which wouldn’t work for the TBH-A1. It is an active hunter that needs to be strong, fast and agile enough to take down its prey, even if it is an ambush predator.

II] It has Two thick layers of fur/feathery structures all over its body. The outer “guard” layer is waterproof and acts as protection against the cold, damp, snowy weather. The inner “insulation”layer is thicker, more closely spaced, and retains body heat. 

III] As for how it’s huge eyes are protected from the cold; they are covered in a thin layer of oil that lubricates them- preventing icy air from drying them out, and providing a barrier against wind and small ice particles from reaching their sensitive surface and causing damage.

IV] Below its coat, its skin is black, similar to a polar bear or artic fox here on Earth. This skin colour better at absorbing and retaining heat. Plus, its coat is translucent, only appearing white due to the scattering and reflection of visible light, and could allow for it to absorb more of whatever little uv radiation it receives.

V] TBH-A1 has rough, thick, fatty pads on its “paws”. These are surrounded by fur/feathers (I don’t know what to call them since they’re a weird mix of both and neither,) and their fatty design makes them able to not loose heat as easily as other tissues. The “paws” also act like natural snowshoes; being large in size and having special webbing between their digits to make the surface they come into contact with even broader.

—————

If any of this doesn’t make sense anatomically/realistically to you, please, don’t be shy to tell me about it, and why, if you want to. Any constructive criticism is highly welcome. It helps me improve my creatures. Also because I wish to expand my knowledge as much as possible in this life, and I enjoy feedback. :]

Forgive me for any grammatical errors. TwT

[howtofightwrite]

how can I describe an intense, suspenseful and viscous fight between two werejaguars and a human(who’s good with a gun) without it becoming repetitive “he clawed him”, “he shot him” for several pages?

As a disclaimer: for the werejaguar portion of this exercise, I’m going to focus on the jaguar part over the were part. Supernatural creatures come in all shapes and sizes and all with different rules attached. Anything I say will need to be balanced against the rules of your setting and what works for you. In this case, I’m assuming the jaguars are the antagonists but you can easily flip flop this the other way round to have it work.

The key aspect of building a good fight scene is understanding the players and the environment. Everything on top of that is technique, but you can’t get anywhere without a good foundation. This is the research phase.

Ask yourself what your characters want. What is the difference between what they can do vs what they want to do and what they’re willing to do? How do their weapons work? How do they choose to fight? Their background, current goals, and personality will dictate their actions. The temptation is to be general, but boil it down into specifics. This character is not just good with guns, what guns are they good with? The gun (or guns) the human character has chosen to arm themselves with will substantially change the shape of your fight scene. Are they carrying a weapon that would have an advantage over a big cat, much less a supernaturally enhanced big cat? Remember, good with guns doesn’t necessarily mean good at hunting, especially not hunting large predators. At what range is the weapon most effective?

Try to take every character in the scene into account. It’s easy to focus on your POV character as the decision maker and let them control the pace of the fight scene, but combat involves more than one character and more than one decision maker. Fight scenes are really 5% choreography, 20% characters strategizing, and 75% sitting there trying to figure out “well, if Character A lunged and Character B jumped out of the way on a 45 degree angle and is now behind Character A, and they’re in a narrow-ish hallway with a trash can, five windows, and no weapons, they’re going to do… what? exactly?” It’s the ultimate Choose Your Own Adventure game and fight scenes work best when the author makes an effort to manage both sides of the chessboard. It’s not about the end, it’s about how they choose to get there combined with whether or not their decisions work and their gamble pays off. Remember, it’s always a gamble and it’s okay to let your characters be wrong.

In this case, you don’t really have a fight so much as you have a hunt. That’s the through thread here between your characters. What this translates into is that your human needs the cats in front of him to get a clean shot while the jaguars want to be behind their prey. Big cats when they’re hunting and guns in general heavily rely on positioning to be effective. Neither of these two groups are going to want to be out in the open. For the human in this situation, an exposed back is a death sentence. This becomes especially true when there are two cats and they have to track both of them. As for your human, guns become less effective the closer you get. Despite what Hollywood teaches us, these are not close range weapons suited to hand to hand. Unless you’re working with a shotgun, you’re stuck with basic physics. The bullet needs time to travel to build up velocity for maximum penetration.

Jaguars are ambush predators. They use up a massive amount of energy per attack, which means they only have a few tries to get it right. Each failure carves off a massive chunk of their ability to continue the hunt before retreating. Humans, meanwhile, are persistence predators. Our animal brain is geared to outlast our prey, to pace them to death rather than run them down, and then kill when they are exhausted. Cats are also, by and large, solo hunters. Some cats do hunt together (siblings banding together happens more often than you might think, even outside of lions when there’s food to support it) but it’s generally not the norm. Whether this causes an instinctual conflict for your werecats is up to you. Their human half may be enabling them to hunt with sophisticated pack tactics. If so, I’d challenge you to consider what that looks like and sounds like as they communicate.

Your human with the gun is limited by the amount of ammo they have. They may be able to outlast the jaguars (depending on supernatural rules.) However, their ability to make a successful kill diminishes with each failed shot.

Jaguars, pound for pound, have the strongest bite force out of all the big cats. Their preferred hunting method isn’t to scratch or claw, it’s to sink their teeth through the back of the skull and into the brain in one swift, clean strike. Unlike some big cats, they largely don’t preferentially suffocate their prey first through the throat clamp. The claws are here to stop their prey from moving while they get that bite in. (If you’re having trouble visualizing how a jaguar moves, climbs, and stalks, I recommend watching some nature documentaries. Or, read some accounts of jaguars hunting humans. It happens.)

In this scenario, nobody’s squaring off unless it’s a feint. Both parties will be moving, getting into cover, and hiding until they can get into a good-ish position to make their attack. They’ll be relying on their senses to find their opponent and maneuver around them. Jaguars, being better at hiding, would in this scenario be forcing the human out of cover to look for them and, depending on their level of teamwork, utilizing each other as bait to lure their prey out. And they might work on getting the human to waste their ammunition first to limit their risk. If they’re smart, they’re trading off and the movement is coming from multiple directions. So, even if your human has a weapon that will kill the jaguars in a single, lucky shot, they’ll still (probably) be breaking cover to put themselves at risk and get a clean line of sight.

I’m not taking questions on the cats being better at stealth. I have an indoor white cat who ghosts off in a small apartment whenever she wants. Where is she? Somewhere. I don’t know unless she wants me to know. Cats are not dogs or wolves. They have a different methodology when it comes to hunting and even large cats possess the ability to vanish in urban environments that aren’t designed for them.

Anyway, this is your suspense. It’s not an original idea, but I recommend leaning harder into thriller, suspense, and horror when it comes to cats instead of straight up action. That terrifying gut twisting sensation of being all alone, not knowing where the enemy is, maybe hearing them but not being able to gauge how far away they are. Go watch some horror movies with big cats hunting people. Like The Ghost and the Darkness (1996) about the Tsavo man-eating lions, which, while not jaguars, is based on a true story and is a fantastic film.

It’s easy to get stuck on the concept of trading blows. “He punched him” and “he clawed him” and “he slashed him” or “he shot him” but remember that initial attacks are about creating openings. It’s rare for your opponent to magically be in the position you want them with all their vulnerable openings exposed, unless they’re caught by surprise. A lot of initial combat is about building into or setting up your finishing move, all while your opponent tries the same from the other side. Instead of thinking about your combatants as standing in stasis and duking it out, remember that they are in motion. They are moving, they are circling, they are bracing, they are hunting for that new position, that unguarded opening. If the opening is not there, create it.

-Michi

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[kallie-den]

Preyblood

After drinking her prey’s corrupted blood, a vampire hunter discovers who the real predator is as feelings of love and hate for the vampire begin to blur

A commission for LadyTheophania!

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---

As Emily was swallowed up by the club, with all its riotous colors and dancing, pounding music, and sinuous writhing of bodies, she clutched the wooden stake tight in her hand. She hated hunting in places like this. It set all her old military instincts on edge. Watch your six, check the corners, keep line-of-sight to the exits - none of that made any sense in such a chaotic environment. She couldn’t control what was going on around her. It made her feel defenseless.

Emily ran her fingers up and down the stake in her hand, taking a moment to feel the grain of the wood and remind herself of its heft. No, she told herself. She wasn’t the defenseless one here.

She was the hunter. And the vampire nesting here was her prey.

It was a typical enough haunt for a bloodsucker. Dark, sensual, open all night, lots of potential, pliable victims. An ideal hunting ground. This one, in particular, was a lesbian club, and Emily had to grant the vampire a little grudging respect for that. It was the kind of place she might have enjoyed spending time herself if she wasn’t on the hunt. Picking up a girl was a nice way to blow off steam, and what kind of lesbian wouldn’t go for a tall, strong, athletic dyke in a leather jacket and combat boots? Just as long as they didn’t mind that she was trans, anyway.

But that would have to wait for another night. Tonight, Emily could afford no distractions. She was an experienced hunter, but vampires were never easy to bring down. Emily kept her ears strained to hear over the loud music, and she kept scanning the room, searching for the slightest hint of reddened eyes or sharpened fangs. Nothing yet. In all likelihood, the creature was holed up in a private room out back or on the floors above. That was their usual way: a quiet little den, a place to sleep through the day and feed undisturbed at night. So, slowly and cautiously, Emily started making her way towards the back of the club, although she had to struggle to push her way through the tight crush of dancing bodies, made strange and hard to track by the dim, shifting, flickering, multi-colored club lights.

“Hello there, stranger,” someone whispered in her ear. “Are you looking for a good time?”

Without warning, some girl - drunk, probably - was draped across Emily’s shoulder. Emily did her best to brush her off, but the girl was clinging to her tight, entangling their limbs together.

“Hey,” the girl drawled insistently. “There’s no need to be so rude!”

“Not tonight,” Emily grunted. “Busy. Out of my way.”

The girl didn’t budge. Wary of distractions, Emily kept scanning the club. The girl was pressed up to her side, and all Emily saw of her was a shock of long, curly, red hair. Still no sign of the bloodsucker.

“Come on now.” The girl was purring right into her ear now. Her words sounded strange; it was as if she had a hint of some weird, old-timey accent. Maybe she was on something. “What’s the hurry?”

“Looking for someone,” Emily replied. She couldn’t spare the energy to think of a lie.

“Aww!” The stranger made a pouty noise. Emily still couldn’t seem to shake her off. She was surprisingly strong and clingy, for a party girl. “You’re all taken already? I can’t have you?”

“Not tonight.”

“Who you looking for?” the girl whined.

Emily sighed. Maybe if she just answered, the girl would leave her alone.

“Letitia,” she said. “Letitia Clarendon. Know her?”

“Oh!” the girl replied brightly. “In that case, I guess you’re all mine after all!”

A single heartbeat after all the alarm bells sounded in Emily’s head, she felt two sharp fangs plunge into her neck.

Emily didn’t scream. She was far too much of a pro for that. All around her, people kept drinking, dancing, laughing - but the vampire hunter was keenly aware of the fact that she was in dire danger. Emily turned, thrashing, elbowing - but now the vampire was using all her unholy strength, and Emily could already feel the creature’s soporific venom spreading through her body.

With each drop of blood Letitia Clarendon sucked from her veins, the vampire grew stronger, and Emily grew weaker.

“Get the fuck off me!” Emily roared. Mustering all her strength, she managed to wrench her body forward, out of the vampire’s grasp. Emily had time to let out a single gasp of relief, before wheeling to face her foe, stake raised.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Letitia sang. As lights flickered on, Emily saw pale skin, red lips, a wide smile, and blood. “I like it rough, see. And I think I’d like to keep you.”

Emily was ready to strike. She was ready to defend. She wasn’t ready for the vampire to surge forward and kiss her.

She felt the bloodsucker’s lips against her own before she knew what was happening. The vampire was a formidable kisser, despite her grave-cold flesh; she teased Emily’s lips apart effortlessly, and the vampire hunter found her mouth invaded by a tongue that was unnaturally long and impossibly nimble.

And that was coated in something that tasted of iron and sin.

A little of it had already trickled down Emily’s throat before she figured out what it was. Blood. And not her own. Not human. No, there was something distinctly unnatural about the taste. The vampire must have pricked her tongue on her own fang as she moved in for the kiss.

She was feeding Emily vampire’s blood. Vitae.

Emily recoiled violently at the sensation of that poison being poured down her throat. She tried to make herself choke it up, but the vitae was somehow sticky and slick in equal measure, and with the vampire’s tongue prying her throat open, Emily couldn’t keep it up. Letitia’s kiss was equally as inescapable. She was wrapped around Emily like a serpent, coiling tight, clinging, somehow guiding Emily as the two of them stumbled and struggled.

“Come now.” Letitia drew back, just barely, so she could hiss to Emily. Her voice was dripping with sour candy. “Let us get to know each other somewhere a little more private.”

Before Emily could spit a reply, the vampire’s tongue was back in her mouth, pumping even more of her poison past the hunter’s lips. Emily was still trying to throw her off, but something about the blood she was unwillingly imbibing was robbing her of her strength. Her vision was blurring, and she was finding it hard to resist as Letitia dragged her through the club and out towards the back rooms.

To anyone else, they probably just looked like one more pair of drunk, horny, stumbling lesbians.

Once the vampire finally drew back and allowed Emily to take a breath, the two of them were in a large, private room, luxuriously decorated, illuminated by low, steady, yellow lamps. Emily bent double and heaved, trying to will her body to expel everything she’d just drunk. It didn’t work.

“My, my,” Letitia purred. “Aren’t you a strapping thing?”

Emily looked up and, for the first time, got a real look at her prey.

Letitia Clarendon, vampire, was around a hundred years old, and came from an upper-class, old-money background. That was about all Emily’s research had given her. The real thing certainly bore that out. Letitia was only medium-height, but she certainly carried herself like an aristocrat. She had long, red, rich, curly hair, high, arching cheekbones, and freckled, milk-pale skin, lit within by a slight, pink blush that Emily knew came only from the blood the vampire had just drunk. She had an aristocrat's figure, too; plump from indulgence, and all the more alluring for it.

For a moment, Emily was struck by the odd notion that, in another life, Letitia could have made for a perfect farmgirl. Soft, rosy, warm, sun-kissed. Instead, she was a pale, immortal predator from another age.

Letitia’s attire - a floor-length dress, accented by no small amount of jeweled finery - was just as old-fashioned as her accent, but thanks to a few modern touches, probably let her pass herself off as some kind of devoted subculture fashionista. Anyone who looked too closely, though, would be sure to see that her apparent humanity was nothing more than a paper-thin veneer spread across undeniable monstrosity. Her eyes gleamed with a wicked, red light, she had a corpse’s countenance, and two of her teeth were far, far too long to be natural. Still, there was an undeniable, elfen beauty to her undeath that stirred even Emily. She was having a hard time peeling her gaze away from the vampire’s figure.

But more than anything else, Emily hated her. She simply hated her.

It didn’t matter what they looked like. She hated every single one of those bloodsuckers. Emily had vowed to devote her life to hunting them down. Letitia Clarendon had already given her more trouble than any yet - but Emily was sure she could still put her down. A little exchanged blood didn’t change a thing.

The stake in her hand was still sharp, and Emily still had the strength to lift it. That was all that counted.

“Darling,” Letitia drawled, as Emily raised her weapon, “if you wanted to dance, you ought to have simply asked. You really are my type.”

Emily’s lips pulled back into a snarl. “Funny. Real funny.”

“Oh, darling,” Letitia tutted. “Who’s joking? You’re really quite the kisser, you know. Enthusiastic. I enjoyed it.”

The vampire made a show of opening her mouth and letting her elongated drool out of her mouth, dripping some of her own black vitae onto the floor. As she lapped at her own fangs, polishing them clean, Emily was embarrassed to note a strange shiver race down her spine. She thought, unwillingly, about just how dexterous that organ was, and about how it had felt when it had forced its way into her mouth and down her throat.

Then she thought about how much of the vampire’s blood she’d drunk. She’d heard stories, of course. Dependency. Thralldom. She didn’t know exactly how much vitae that required, or exactly how much she’d drunk. Was it already doing something to her?

With all her being, Emily rejected that. She summoned up all her hate for the unholy, predatory creature standing before her, and spat it in her face.

“Fuck you.” Emily’s voice came out alarmingly thick. “Go fuck yourself.”

Joy danced in Letitia’s eyes. “You’d enjoy watching that, I’m sure.”

“Fuck. You.”

“Even more than you enjoyed our kiss, perhaps.”

“Bullshit! Fuck you!” Why was it suddenly so hard for Emily to find her fire?

“Oh, darling.” Letitia licked her lips. Another treasonous shiver. “I can see for myself that you’re not being truthful. Slut.”

Her eyes flicked down pointedly as she spat out that last, pointed syllable. Emily couldn’t help but look down too, following the vampire’s gaze. Once she saw it, her cheeks started to burn.

Emily was hard.

Despite the folds in her loose combat pants, it was unmistakable. Emily was hard. Harder than she’d ever been, maybe. At once, her bravado was undercut by embarrassment. Suddenly, the nature of her distraction was so much clearer. Emily’s overpowering attraction to the vampire standing before her was buzzing in the back of her brain.

Emily immediately started flailing for an explanation. She was a lesbian, yes, but this was more than that. Normally, she would never allow herself to feel such longing for an undead monster like Letitia.

“Who cares?” Emily spat, with a fierceness she was no longer sure she felt. “You’re about to be dust.”

Letitia let out a loud, shrill laugh. “My! You really are something.” She licked her lips once more. “Yes. Yes, I really must make you mine.”

Emily snarled furiously. She decided to end this before the vampire could confuse her any further. Drawing on all her strength, all her hate, Emily raised her stake and charged forward. Vampires could be inhumanly fast, but Emily’s combat instincts were honed to a razor’s sharpness. She crossed the short distance between them in no time at all. As the tip of Emily’s stake scythed through the air, towards Letitia’s chest, she rejoiced as she saw that the vampire hadn’t even raised a hand to defend herself.

Typical bloodsucker. Too cocky, and too slow when it really counted. It was already over.

Then, Emily’s arm froze.

It took her a long moment to realize what had happened. At first, Emily thought that she’d hit some kind of forcefield, or perhaps that time itself had ground to a halt. Eventually, though, she realized that her muscles had simply locked up. Her limbs felt like iron girders. They refused to obey her commands, and Emily was left standing there like a scarecrow, paralyzed, stake held mere inches from its target.

Letitia’s lips curled up into a smirk.

“W-what did you do to me?” Emily whispered. For the first time ever, she felt powerless on a hunt.

“You’re taking to it well,” Letitia noted, pleased. “Yes. Yes, I think we’re going to get along beautifully, darling hunter.”

The savage confidence in Letitia’s voice made Emily step backward. Discovering she could move again restored her confidence, but that drained away again just as quickly when she realized that she still couldn’t strike at Letitia. Every time she tried, her body rebelled. Something inside her was fighting Emily’s commands. It was like there was something black and wet wrapped around her spine, pulling her nerve endings like strings, formed of an inexplicable reluctance to hurt the monstrous creature bearing down on her.

The vitae. It had to be.

“What’s the matter, hunter?” Letitia chided. She took one step forward; Emily, one back. “Where’s that adorable confidence? Where’s that strength now?”

Emily opened her mouth, but all that came out was a strangled grunt. She kept backing away, but Letitia kept coming, and all that came into Emily’s head were useless, childish protestations at the unfairness of the vampire’s power.

Those, and stray, unwelcome observations about her unnatural beauty.

“Come now,” Letitia chided. “Don’t run. Let me get a proper taste of you.”

Emily felt her back hit the wall. Nowhere left to run. Some hunter.

“Don’t worry.” Letitia’s smile made her fangs look sharper than ever. “You’ll enjoy it.”

Until the bitter end, Emily tried to make herself strike at Letitia, but it was useless. Once the vampire’s fangs pierced her jugular, even that rebellious urge drained away. By the time Letitia started feeding Emily more of her vitae, the hunter was far too weak to do anything but lap it up.

Shamefully, despite the blood loss, she remained hard the entire time.

***

Without real energy or enthusiasm, Emily once again yanked at the sturdy, iron chain binding her to the wall.  Sitting, slumped, she watched forlornly as, unsurprisingly, the bracket didn’t even budge.

There was no escape. But then, Emily had already figured that out a long time ago.

It had been weeks. At least, Emily thought so. All she had to count by were the glimmers of sunlight that passed through the cracks in the paint on the blacked-out windows, but she was starting to lose track of exactly how many nights it had been. At first, things like that had seemed important - counting the days, figuring out where she was and how to get away. Emily had the sense that she was somewhere high up, perhaps in the disused rooms a few floors up from Letitia’s club. But over time, fear and boredom had given way to a kind of haze in which nothing mattered at all. She’d even abandoned the exercise regimen she’d planned to keep herself in fighting form for when the vampire came.

But when she came, there was never any question of fighting.

Letitia’s irregular appearances were the only times anything at all seemed to matter. They were the only times Emily felt alive. Every time her ears pricked up at the sound of footsteps, Emily’s breast swelled with a sick kind of anticipation, knowing that as soon as that strange, aristocratic creature appeared, Emily’s heart would begin to pound again with a heady, uncomfortable mixture of hate and admiration.

It was the only thing she seemed to feel at all, anymore. There was nothing else. Letitia Clarendon’s twisted gift had seen to that. Her unholy blood. Emily could feel the inky, black substance inside her, gnawing at her, hollowing her out. It was the stuff of her worst nightmares.

Emily didn’t know how to fight it. All she knew was that she had to hold on to what she was sure of: her purpose as a hunter, and her violent hatred for the bloodsucker keeping her captive.

How long? That was the question she kept asking herself. How long until someone came for her? How long until she was rescued? Only, over time, as hope had grown fainter and fainter, that question had started to change. To mutate.

How long until Letitia comes to see her again?

A footstep. At once, Emily’s pulse quickened. She was sure that a creature like Letitia could move silently, if she chose, but she couldn’t help but be grateful that Letitia allowed Emily to prepare for her coming. To savor the anticipation. Emily drew herself upright, back resting against the wall, and listened to the steps getting closer.

In the last moment before the door opened, Emily found herself grinning.

Letitia Clarendon swept into the room like the night. She was dressed, as usual, in a huge, sweeping, Victorian dress, and adorned in other, equally-archaic finery. Her fashion, it seemed, had never quite kept up with the times. She was sharp, though. Emily knew that much. Letitia knew exactly how she looked, and how best to turn it to her advantage.

There was a gleeful spring in the vampire’s step, like coming to see Emily was the highlight of her night. Emily couldn’t help but feel a little appreciative of that. By the same token, being in the same room as Letitia made Emily feel sharper. On edge. Alive. It was a chance for her to spit her fire at the bloodsucker holding her captive. To assert herself. To hear her own voice spoken out loud without talking to herself like a crazy person.

And a chance to look. Letitia Clarendon really was astonishingly beautiful. More and more, as nights passed, Emily found herself dwelling on it. She’d given up pretending she wasn’t stirred by the vampire’s appearance. By her sensual presence. The evidence was all too pressing.

Emily kept insisting to herself that it was just because she was a lesbian, and just because she didn’t have anything else to think about. That was why couldn’t help gratifying herself to the thought of Letitia between visits.

“Good evening, Emily,” Letitia greeted her, smiling. Showing teeth. “How is my hunter this fine evening?”

As she spoke, Emily noticed a fleck of crimson on the tip of one of her fangs. It made bile and choler rise in her throat.

“Not bad,” Emily spat defiantly. She was still grinning. “Strong. How about you let me out of these chains and we can find out?”

Letitia let out a merry laugh. “Good, good! I’m glad to hear it. I wouldn’t want you to lose that fine spirit of yours.”

It was incredible how everything came into focus when Letitia was around. Suddenly, Emily’s tongue cracked like a whip. She could feel sparks in her belly. It was so much better than all that numbness. Emily had to remind herself, forcefully, that the vampire’s presence was no kindness. It was deceptively easy to forget that. Letitia Clarendon was coated with candy. Her words were thick with an overbearing sweetness that belied the malice beneath.

Emily knew better than to be fooled by such a transparently two-faced demeanor. But with Letitia, there was something slippery about it. Her presence was so undeniably pleasant and it was somehow a constant temptation to slip beneath the vampire’s flow; to take her pretty face and easy smile at face value. To treat her like a friend or a lover, instead of a captor.

To forget what she was.

Again and again, Emily had to remind herself she was dealing with a monstrous predator. Why was it so easy to lose sight of that?

Probably because of her beauty.

“Of course not,” Emily growled. “Why? What are you keeping me here for?”

“Why?” Letitia blinked at her, eyes guileless. “For the pleasure of your company, of course.”

Her beauty was oppressive. It weighed heavy on Emily’s shoulders. Frankly, she wasn’t sure how she’d ever been so oblivious to it. Emily had noticed, certainly, but somehow, on the first night, she hadn’t been dazzled by it. Letitia’s true beauty hadn’t quite struck her. Now, it was different. Just being in the same room as the vampire was distracting. What Emily had first deemed ghoulish about Letitia’s undead features, she’d now come to accept was simply her own difficulty coming to terms with physical perfection.

Yes, Letitia was perfect. Her cheekbones, her complexions, her long tongue and teeth, her ethereal red eyes - all of it was perfect. Her beauty was beyond human.

Perhaps that was why it was so treasonously tempting to just say ‘yes’ to her.

“Bullshit,” Emily spat. She refused to give in to that instinct. “I know your type. You’re hungry. Always hungry. If you’re not drinking me dry, there’s gotta be a good reason for it.”

Again, Letitia laughed merrily. She always seemed so carefree. It kept Emily wondering: what if she could find something sharp? What if she could lure the vampire just a little closer?

“I suppose you’re right,” Letitia admitted. “It’s true. I have my reasons. You see, you have something I want.”

Emily was all ears. “And what’s that?”

“I already told you,” Letitia replied. “Your spirit. You see, it really is so hard to find good servants these days.”

For five solid seconds, Emily just blinked. Then she scrunched up her face in disgust and started guffawing.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” she spat, between laughs. “Me? Serving you? That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Letitia’s confidence was unmarred by Emily’s open mockery. “I hardly think so. You see, at my side, you could be magnificent. I have use for a hunter. I want you - and I always get what I want.”

Her smugness was insufferable - but beneath that, Emily couldn’t help feeling ever so slightly flattered. Letitia Clarendon wanted her. Of all people - her. It was an intoxicating notion. There was a certain pride to be taken in it, even. Part of Emily badly wanted to ask: why? Was it her looks? Her skills? Something more?

But she had more dignity than that. “Let’s get one thing straight, bloodsucker,” Emily made her gaze steel as she stared into Letitia’s eyes. “I hate your kind. I hate you. And no matter what, as long as I live, I will never, ever serve you.”

“Really?” Letitia raised an eyebrow, and then a hand.

“Yes, damn you!” Emily roared. “You fucking disgust me, vampire. I would sooner die than… I’d never… never…”

Her words died. Her eyes betrayed her, and she gave way in their little staring contest of wills. Instead, her vision locked onto something else: the little drop of black blood, welling up from where Letitia had pricked her finger on one of her talons.

And there it was again. The need.

Most of the time, during her captivity, Emily had been free from want and need. She’d felt nothing. No appetite. No hunger. But when Letitia confronted her with the vampire’s vitae, it all came roaring back. Suddenly, Emily became conscious of just how long it had been since any food had passed her lips. Her stomach, cavernous and empty, began to eat at her from the inside. A piercing, debilitating awareness of her own weakness washed over Emily. The hunter felt faint, pale, sluggish. Like she could barely move.

But one drop could fix all that. Just one drop.

Emily felt the chain pull taut around her ankle. She looked down, and realized that she’d already been crawling forward.

“I’m sorry?” Letitia said sweetly. “What was that you were saying?”

A whine forced its way past Emily’s lips. It had been like this ever since that first night. The very first drop of Letitia’s unholy blood, given in a kiss, had taken root inside Emily like a poisoned seed. Most of the time, she managed not to dwell on it. The cravings. The addiction. After each visit, she promised the next would be different. She promised she’d be tougher. Stronger. Sterner with herself. That she’d find the courage to say ‘no’ to Letitia.

Those promises were melting all around her.

At first, she’d fought tooth and nail to stop Letitia from force-feeding her the vitae. But the vampire, flush with fresh blood and unnatural strength, had always won, and so somehow, eventually, Emily had given up resisting. She’d just allowed it to happen. And then, before she’d realized what was happening, it had become too late.

“I…” Emily found herself saying. Her words came out wet and thick. She was salivating like a dog. 

“I suppose there is something else I want,” Letitia mused, as if she was oblivious to Emily’s plight. “Besides your spirit, I mean. Something very important.”

An offhand gesture sent a single, tiny droplet of Letitia’s blood spilling onto the ground. Emily watched it fall in slow motion, unable to stop it. As it splashed uselessly across the dirty floorboards, Emily let out a weak, keening cry. In moments it was gone, absorbed into the sawdust.

“I need your spirit,” Letitia told her, “and I need your love.”

That word caught Emily’s attention. She looked up at the vampire, dumbfounded.

“L… love?” she bleated.

“Do you know why dogs are so wonderfully obedient to their masters?” A touch of madness glinted in Letitia’s crimson eyes. “Because they love them.”

As hard as it was to feel anything but worship while she was in the throes of addiction, that comment made Emily indignant. “I’m not a goddamn dog.”

Letitia ignored her. “Do you know why dogs love their masters?” she asked. “Because they feed them. It’s that simple.”

Emily barked a laugh. Her head was swimming. Above her, Letitia shone like the moon. Every clear thought was a struggle.

“You’re crazy,” Emily spat.

“And you’re hungry,” Letitia replied.

Before Emily could form a retort, Letitia took a step towards and held her hand out towards the captive hunter. Instantly, Emily’s world shrank to a single point. The little back droplets welling up on the vampire’s finger were the only things that mattered. It was so close now, Emily could even smell it. The scent was more intoxicating than anything else; the iron, and the hint of something darker beneath. Emily was starting to drool down her chin.

“That’s better,” Letitia soothed. “Would you like a taste, my dear hunter?”

Without thinking, Emily nodded. She wasn’t even ashamed of herself for doing so. Raw hunger was the only thing left in her head.

“Then taste.” Letitia moved closer still, holding her hand down at the level of her hips. “Drink.”

Emily’s brow furrowed in confusion. Usually, when Letitia visited her, she poured her blood into a dish and offered it to Emily. Sometimes, she simply overpowered the hunter and forced her into another twisted kiss. This was new.

“H… how?” Emily asked, tongue wet. She already knew the answer.

“Drink,” Letitia repeated.

She didn’t explain. She didn’t need to. It only took a few more moments for Emily’s hunger to overpower her better judgment.

Emily stretched forward and wrapped her lips around Letitia’s bloody finger.

She suckled with the starving fervor of a newborn babe. It tasted every bit as good as she’d known it would. Just a few drops of the vampire’s blood were all it took to infuse Emily’s entire body with energy. She felt like she could run a marathon, or climb a sheer cliff face. She felt like she could fly.

She felt amazing.

Nothing could pierce that euphoria. Not shame, nor humiliation, nor the bitter sting of defeat. Emily was immune to those. She was on cloud nine. Emily kept licking and sucking, unwilling to let even the smallest droplet of Letitia’s ambrosia go to waste. She lavished the vampire’s skin with worshipful attention, kissing and licking every inch of her finger until it was clean. Letitia even helped, pumping her finger backward and forward, in and out of Emily’s mouth. Distantly, as if it was coming from far away, Emily heard the vampire’s laugh.

It didn’t matter. In that moment, all she could feel towards Letitia was an overbearing sense of gratitude.

Emily stopped once it became obvious that the small cut on Letitia’s finger had healed minutes ago. The hunter slumped backward and shivered rapturously as vitae coursed throughout her body. There was no feeling like this. No drug or high came even close.

“Well,” Letitia remarked mirthfully, “I don’t know about your spirit. But I see that your energy is certainly undiminished.”

Emily knew at once what she was referring to. As always, after a feeding, Emily was rock hard and tenting her pants. She couldn’t help it. Letitia’s blood left her infused with vigor - and besides, the vampire’s beauty seemed to grow after each meal. Emily felt like she could stare at Letitia forever, admiring her like a work of art. It was so strange, that such a dark creature would look so angelic.

“I’ll give you some more time to yourself,” Letitia announced, and spun to face the doorway. “To… contemplate your situation.”

Her sudden absence dimmed Emily’s blissful mood a little. It wasn’t long before the effects of the blood wore off, and Emily was left, once again, ashamed of her weakness and conscious of her own thirst. She knew the vitae was doing something to her. After each twisted feeding, she could feel something growing inside her. A kind of foreign influence, utterly alien to her true desires, but terrifyingly seductive and potent. It was nursing a kind of obsession for Letitia Clarendon; a violent one, perhaps, but still, a passionate one.

It was the kind of thing that might give birth to the very worst kind of love.

Emily had to stop. She knew she had to stop. Next time, she had to find a way to avoid drinking Letitia’s blood.

But somehow, as the minutes wore on, that thought slipped through her fingers, while the bittersweet memory of her captor’s face burned bright in her head, distracting her, luring her hand between her legs to deal with her sudden need.

It wasn’t long before she was counting down the time until Letitia might visit her again.

***

Emily didn’t look at the girl’s face. She refused to. She didn’t want to remember it. She didn’t want that face to haunt her, as others had. But, as ever, Letitia was kind. As she kept one hand clasped around the girl’s throat, she offered the other, dripping with vitae, toward Emily. As always, the former hunter was instantly transfixed by the mere sight of the substance. It helped her to block out everything else that was going on.

At least there was no whimpering or screaming. Mercifully, Letitia had somehow stunned her prey into submission. The poor, innocent thing remained calm, a vacant, dreamlike smile on her face, even as the vampire started tearing into her throat.

Emily flinched, but she still didn’t look. She kept her eyes on Letitia’s black-coated fingertips.

The first time Letitia had brought prey to Emily’s room, she’d been confused. When Letitia’s intentions had become clear, Emily had even managed to find some of her old fire, dampened though it was by weeks and weeks of starved apathy.

It had been useless, of course. Emily wasn’t chained up anymore - though she didn’t remember being freed, either - but Letitia had quickly taught her that resistance was meaningless.

And anyway, Emily couldn’t really bring herself to fight Letitia. Not anymore.

There was a splatter and a spurt, as Letitia’s fangs pierced the jugular. It churned Emily’s stomach, but she ignored it. She just sat waiting, peaceful and patient, exactly the way the vampire wanted.

Emily knew what was happening, of course. She was too smart not to, and besides, Letitia had made no real secret of her plans. It was simple exposure therapy. A way to desensitize her to the vampire’s true nature, and to progressively erode Emily’s convictions. After all, it was difficult to stand up against something when you’d been a silent, tacitly accepting bystander to it time and time again.

Emily knew what was happening. The problem was that she couldn’t seem to make herself care.

She’d long since given up on keeping track of how long she’d been held captive by Letitia - if ‘captive’ was even the right word anymore. She could leave whenever she wanted, but Letitia had made it clear that if she left, she’d never see or taste the vampire ever again. And for no more than that, Emily had stayed in that dark, squalid room, enduring countless hours of numbness and boredom that ground her down into a shadow of who she’d once been. All that was left were her feelings for Letitia.

She didn’t care about anything except Letitia anymore.

With a loud, wet smack, Letitia withdrew her fangs from the drained girl’s neck. A single, offhanded shove sent her sprawling to the ground, spent. Emily flinched - but she still didn’t look.

Letitia nodded approvingly at her stillness. “Good,” the vampire told her. “Very good.”

Pride, just as poisonous as any unholy blood, started to glow within Emily. She couldn’t help but be proud. Being praised by a creature like Letitia was a wonder. Her beauty was indescribable. She was more like a goddess than a mere mortal being like Emily.

“Drink up.” Letitia thrust her hand toward Emily. “You’ve earned it.”

Emily’s composure broke in an instant. Her meek stillness was gone, replaced by an unnatural voracity. Emily fed like an animal, lapping, licking, kissing, sucking - lavishing her new master’s skin with worshipful attention, and then, once all the vampire’s blood was gone, licking it clean of her own unworthy saliva.

She smiled. There it was again. Bliss.

Letitia took a moment to brush her fingertips affectionately across Emily’s cheek. It had become a little ritual of hers, after each feeding. A way to bond with her new pet.

“Yes, you’re coming along nicely,” Letitia mused. “Aren’t you?”

Emily blushed, flustered. Letitia was talking to her the way someone might a puppy, but Emily could feel nothing but warmth.

“Yes,” she muttered. “T-thank you.”

Letitia raised an eyebrow. She seemed pleased.

“And still… energetic, I see,” she remarked, eyes flicking downward.

Emily was hard. She always was, when Letitia graced her with her attention. Emily had given up on pleasuring herself - it didn’t seem to satisfy, without the vampire’s presence - but now that her belly was full of black blood, she was conscious of her own, desperate need.

“Do you remember,” Letitia asked her, “what I called you, the first night that we met?”

Emily nodded. Every detail of that encounter was burned into her brain. The memory was steadily supplanting all memories that had come before. It was the moment she’d begun.

“Yes,” Emily replied, voice stilted and meek. “A slut.”

“And I was right, wasn’t I?”

Before Emily could agree, Letitia stepped forward and, balancing on one leg for a moment, brought her other foot down to press against the stiff tent of Emily’s cock.

Emily gasped. She saw white. She looked up in awed confusion. The former hunter had never dared to dream that Letitia would touch like that.

“Wasn’t I?” Letitia repeated.

“Y-yes!” Emily gasped urgently. Letitia was barely touching her, but the pleasure was unbelievable. The sole of her foot felt better than any other girl ever had.

“Good girl.”

Letitia nodded in a way that Emily somehow knew meant permission, and without hesitation, Emily started to buck her hips and hump Letitia’s foot.

“Oh my god…” Emily panted. She was practically weeping with joy. Touching Letitia like that was transcendent. “O-oh my god.”

It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for her to reach her peak. Emily had once been a lot of things - a hunter, a stud, a top - but now all that was gone, and all that mattered was Letitia was rewarding her with this. The symbolism was more important than the sensation. A being as great and as beautiful as Letitia Clarendon had decided Emily deserved to feel something good. Even the condescending sneer on the vampire’s face was perfect. It helped to remind Emily of what she was.

A pet. A dog. A thrall.

And if she was that, nothing else she did really mattered.

Entranced by the thought, Emily kept rutting and humping, her moans and grunts becoming ever more desperate and animalistic. She was trapped; she was too desperate to stop, but she couldn’t continue for much longer, but she couldn’t even conceive of finishing without Letitia’s permission.

Eventually, Letitia set her free. “You may,” she pronounced, with a slight nod of her head.

With a ragged moan, Emily came. Letitia took her foot away at the last moment, and so the former hunter only succeeded in making a mess of her own, filthy clothing. Emily expected shame to follow on the heels of her orgasm, but no. Letitia’s presence kept that at bay as well, and as Emily basked in the afterglow of her reward, the vampire bent down to stare intently into her soul.

“Yes,” Letitia mused, a smile on her face. “I think you’re almost ready. There it is. Coming along nicely.”

Emily knew instinctively what she was referring to. She could feel it growing within herself, black and sickly, and all for her new master.

Love.

***

Instinctively, Emily squeezed the stake in her hand. It felt good. Comforting. Familiar. Even after all that had transpired, a few things still hadn’t changed.

That was a nice lie she could tell herself.

In any case, many more things had. Emily wasn’t stuck in that room anymore. She wasn’t wearing her old, now-filthy clothes either. She’d replaced her old look with one that was new and slick: a black suit, nicely tailored, cut slightly feminine, complete with tie and perfect white shirt.

It was exactly the way Lady Letitia liked her.

“Come on,” Emily called, raising her voice so it could be heard over the club music. “This way.”

“Right,” the other hunter nodded, following closely behind. “Are you sure she’ll be there?”

“Yes,” Emily replied. “At this time of night, the bloodsucker’s always in her lair.”

Emily twitched and scratched a phantom itch at her neck.

“Got it,” the other hunter replied. The girl was painfully young, and too trusting. “If you know where she sleeps, I’m surprised you need me. I’d always heard you worked alone.”

“She’s strong,” Emily replied simply. “I wanted backup.”

“Right.” Emily glanced over her shoulder, and saw a faint, bashful smile appear on the other hunter’s face. “I’m flattered you picked a newbie like me.”

That tugged at Emily’s heartstrings for a moment, before she shoved the guilt way down. Beneath the hunger.

“Focus,” Emily warned, as she led the other girl through the crush of dancing bodies, toward a dark doorway at the back of the club. “It’s dangerous here.”

The other girl nodded. Both of them clutched at their stakes. Emily’s heart was pounding, but not from danger. Not from guilt, either.

From anticipation.

The two of them entered the doorway and proceeded down a dimly lit corridor, the sounds of the club steadily dying away. Then Emily came to a halt and indicated a door.

“She’s in here,” Emily hissed. “You first. I’ll watch your back.”

The other girl nodded. After a moment of hesitation, of gathering up her courage, she opened the door and walked inside. Emily followed her a few paces behind and slipped her stake back into the inside pocket of her jacket.

And nodded to Lady Letitia, lurking in the shadows.

In an instant, the vampire was on top of the blindsided hunter. The poor girl barely had time to scream before Lady Letitia’s fangs pierced her throat and sucked dry her veins. After a few seconds of useless spasming, the stake rolled out of her open hand and clattered to the ground. The girl’s pale, dry, cold body followed soon after.

Emily only twitched a little. She could even look at their faces now.

But she didn’t need to. Not for more than a moment, anyway. Soon, Lady Letitia turned to Emily and smiled, blood still dripping from her fanged maw. Emily didn’t care about that, though. She just cared that her master was smiling.

“Well done,” Lady Letitia told her, “my hunter.”

Yes, Emily was still a hunter. She even hunted vampires, sometimes - Lady Letitia had rivals, after all - but mortals had become her usual prey. She helped to drive them into Lady Letitia’s cruel embrace, keeping the area free of genuine vampire hunters in the process.

Still a hunter - by some measures, anyway. But more than anything, Emily was simply a thrall.

“My lady.”

In a single, smooth motion, long-practiced, Emily dropped to one knee and bowed her head before her master. It was only right to lower herself before a being as beautiful and superior as Lady Letitia. Emily served her in all things. It was the only thing that gave her life a sense of purpose. The only thing that delivered her, even temporarily, from the gnawing numbness that had consumed everything else about Emily.

And there was the hunger, of course. Only Lady Letitia could sate that. But Emily no longer received the gift of her unholy blood every night, or after every service. Lady Letitia had trained her well. The vampire’s approval was all the reward Emily needed.

Like a dog with Pavlov’s bell.

"Thank you,” Lady Letitia said softly, “for my meal. You’ve proven yourself to be every bit the servant I hoped you’d be.”

“Thank you,” Emily whispered. The force of her master’s praise was enough to make her weep. She had to keep her face turned down, or else Lady Letitia’s beauty would overwhelm her. “Thank you, my lady.”

With her head bowed, she could see the body of the other hunter, lying just a short distance away. More and more, its presence started to eat at Emily. It stirred memories of another life. A life in which she’d protected people from vampires, instead of luring them into the predator’s lair. Emily could remember a former version of herself, one who would have been outraged and disgusted at what the fallen hunter had become.

Did that mean something? Wasn’t all of this terribly, terribly wrong?

Emily felt herself starting to panic. Her breaths came up short, and her pulse quickened as she fought with herself to fill her lungs with air. What was she doing? Why was she doing any of this? The doubts were suddenly swimming around her, eating at her, but within, something dark and wet and equally vicious was fighting back. The corruption nested in Emily’s bosom, the part of her that longed for Letitia, refused to let her go. Those two conflicting forces made a battleground of her soul, all but paralyzing her with sudden indecision.

Her hand trembled. Her stake was right there. Within reach. Couldn’t she just-

A familiar touch to Emily’s cheek stirred her from those unwelcome thoughts. In her usual, ritual way, Lady Letitia stroked her thrall’s face and guided her eyes upward, until Emily was staring into the vampire’s impossibly beautiful visage. Her fangs, her tongue, her eyes - Emily was captivated by all of it.

A single moment of being caressed by the vampiric master she now adored was all it took to remind the fallen hunter: she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Everything else was simply a delusion Lady Letitia had been kind enough to free Emily from.

The vampire’s touch left her hard, too. It always did. Emily had always been weak to beautiful women, and her thralldom had given the lesbian a singular, erotic fixation on her master. Lady Letitia noticed immediately and licked her lips pointedly, spreading blood across her face.

“Rise,” she bade, “and come with me. I require your service in other ways.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Emily rose to her feet and, misgivings forgotten, stepped over the other hunter’s limp body as she followed her master to her coffin chamber.

---

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[fluffle-writes]

I imagine in the first few months (6 max) Yuu is sticking to Ace and Deuce side almost all the time (+Grim). Maybe even Jack.

Because they are very scared and still getting used to it.

Like fully hugging Ace if someone surprises them (Floyd) and using him as a shield (he’s big, I read in one of your posts they are 7 feet tall or smth, best shield around to even a big size human)

That is UNTIL the prefect starts bringing an iron pan or something similar everywhere for protection, maybe a spray with a lighter for any plant-boy that tries them. Just in case anyone assumes they can be an easy snack.

Also, are the guys willing to eat sentient things? Does that mean cannibalism is a very heard of occurrence?

And on the topic of Yuu getting traits from each OB after they defeat them, I guess some respond more to emotions, like sprawling flowers from their scalp (Ace ate one and said it tastes very sour) when angry or feeling violent. Maybe their hands (or their whole body) starts to glitch if they get too anxious (after book 6)

Yeah, Yuu would definitely be sticking to anyone they may feel even a little bit safe around! I made a quick chart to show how I kinda perceive the height difference between humans and the Weirdcore guys - with Idia as one of the taller guys and Ortho and Grim being two of the shortest. Ace is the perfect height to hide behind for a human if any height lol.

(Fluffle is me :D)

Something to take note of is the fact that their heights can fluctuate a bit at times - simply because the weirdcore world warps more easily. Height may change due to emotions, force of will, or magical energy concentration. This is more pronounced with Riddle, who grows a foot or two when he's super angry, or Lilia, who can concentrate his magical energy to make himself look taller when he feels protective of his kin.

Ace, Deuce, and Grim will all be VERY protective of their human friend if they ever think that Yuu's being threatened or are feeling anxious. The problem is, many of the Weirdcore beings may perceive the human as being objectively adorable and may try to approach to get a closer look at them.

Unfortunately, having a giant inhuman creature cooing in a distorted voice at you can be quite a frightening experience - especially if they're like Floyd and fuckin RUN at you.

Once Yuu starts bringing tools and weapons of their own to ward off unwanted approaches, most keep their distance (and particularly observant ones may wave hello like they've seen the human do!) although some may not be quite as easy to deter - like Floyd, who just tanks any damage to squeeze his favourite lil guy.

As for cannibalism! Yes, it can happen - although it's much more common in areas where the wildlife is more dangerous, and resources are more scarce. This means that places that could be more dangerous to weaker beings could be the lower depths of the Coral Sea, the dark forests in Briar Valley, or less prosperous areas of the world.

For example, Jade, Floyd, and Azul may have stronger prey drives than Leona or Trey - who grew up with more access to food without needing to hunt as much. It's less likely to happen at the college, since the different dorms are often stocked with prey animals for anyone who has a stronger prey drive to sink their teeth into when they're hungry. Some students may 'go missing' if they make the wrong enemies though - people learned very quickly to not mess with the Leech twins, for example.

As a sidenote, most of the guys at NRC are either omnivores or carnivores - with herbivores being more common at RSA. It's much rarer outside of the plant-like guys, but some (like Kalim) may be able to photosynthesise. Consuming food is a much more efficient way to gain enough energy for day-to-day life though.

As for the OB features! Yes, that'd align with how the Weirdcore guys have features like their heights or Cater's 'face' can warp depending on their emotional state :D

Yuu's flowers would probably give off a scent that can cause disorientation in someone who might threaten them! And their teeth and claws could become longer and sharper when they get defensive! The idea for them to get sorta glitchy after chapter 6 is genius! I can imagine them glitching particularly badly when they're nervous or anxious!

As for their flower flavour... I feel like something that would induce emotions could work - like how sometimes you smell something that reminds you of your childhood, their flowers can have a taste with that same effect!

Weirdcore AU Masterlist Here!

[tyrantisterror]

At Sea Without a Map pt. 15

"What sort of danger are we talking about?" you ask your monster friend.

Calibani bites her lips and averts her gaze for a second as one of her hands idly plays with a strand of her hair. "So... like I said, I spend a lot of time looking for boats, right? Well, once I found this part of the sea where there were tons of them. Some were still upright, but most were on their side or even upside down. At first I couldn't believe my luck - this many ships in one place, all broken or empty, had to mean there'd be a lot of sailors in the water to catch." Blush floods her cheeks as she sees you pale at her enthusiasm for preying on drowning men. "But, um, the thing is, no one was in the water. Not a soul. All those ships were just empty, their crews gone."

She fidgets with her hair again before continuing her tale. "Obviously, something else had eaten them first, and I didn't want to stick around to see if it was still hungry. Whatever it was had to be big enough to stop a boat and pull the passengers off, and that kind of creature is likely big enough to hurt me if it wants to."

Your mind races. "It'd be a Shipbreaker, right?" you ask. "On your list of monsters-"

"No, no," Calibani says. "Shipbreakers go for the BIG ships, you see - those huge ones with hundreds or thousands of people on them, the ones that are like little moving islands unto themselves. They don't go after small boats like yours - it's not worth the energy."

That's slightly less terrifying, at least. "And you didn't see the creature?"

Calibani nods. "All I've seen are the boats. They were still there a week ago, too." She leans in. "Whatever attacked them might still be in that area, or it might have moved on. But if the boats are still there, maybe there's things you could scavenge? Like, a map, maybe?"

Your eyes sparkle with the possibilities. "A map? A map could change everything!" Indeed, as you consider how much it would simplify your journey, a part of you thinks that a map would alter the fundamental premise of your time out here. "Wait, you know what maps are?"

Calibani raises a hand and wiggles it in the universal gesture of "Kinda?" "I've heard sailors mention them from time to time as something they use to find their way around. If you don't know where to go, a map would be useful, yes?"

"Absolutely," you say before considering other possibilities. "We could find other things too - clothes, tools, food, maybe even spices!"

You can practically see stars in Calibani's eyes as they sparkle with joy. "SPICES?" Oddly, she's also the first to calm down and get rational. "Still, we can't forget the danger. I don't know what killed all the people on those boats, and I wouldn't... that is, I don't want you to get hurt, especially not following my suggestion, since I've already caused you trouble once and-"

You put a hand on her shoulder and give her a warm smile. "It's a good suggestion. Better than just wandering aimlessly, anyway." You look at the carcass of the stork and think for a moment. "And if there is a monster out there, maybe we can make it regret trying to hunt us." Your eyes focus on the sharp, spear-like beak of the stork, and you get an idea.

It takes a good deal of rope, some nails, and more than a little hard work, but after a couple hours you manage to take the stork's skull and one of its larger leg bones and cobble together a pretty nasty spear out of them. Perhaps too nasty, as you struggle to even lift the thing, but luckily Calibani seems to have enough muscle to wield it effectively, which means you finally get to take your harpoon back. Now that you're both armed, you feel more confident in your monster-fighting skills.

You store as much of the stork meat as you can in your boat's small refrigerator, pack some more of it in salt, and quickly pack everything else up as you prepare to head out. When your boat pulls away from the island, you look back on the stork carcass with regret - you're leaving a lot of meat behind to rot, after all.

Or perhaps not? As soon as your boat pulls away, that strange bird from yesterday swoops down out of the sky and lands by the stork's grisly remains and proceeds to strip the carcass of meat in a downright gluttonous display of hunger. It seems even a fucked up ecosystem of monsters has need for scavengers.

Your next few hours are fairly uneventful - Calibani sings a few old-timey songs about the sea (sea shanties, you think they're called?) while you keep your hands on the steering wheel, though your boat more or less drives itself more often than not. It's dull, but pleasant, and a part of you would almost be content just to spend the rest of your life like this.

Unfortunately, you find what you were looking for.

Calibani was not lying when she said there were a lot of small boats just floating on the waves, empty of residents and abandoned to an uncaring sea. Some are capsized, a few even wrecked, but many are not only in tact but sitting upright enough that you could hazard hopping aboard to explore them. You consult your compass on your next move.

[theros]

on prey drives, or the lack thereof

a lot of nonhumans have mentioned their predatory urges or prey drives on here. it's a common topic of discussion, especially when it comes to not being ashamed of these thoughts and urges. i often see posts reminding carnivores and predators that they're not bad for having prey drives and predatory urges, and that of course these are a normal part of being a predatory animal. there is nothing to be ashamed of if you have a high prey drive or want to pounce on a small herbivore for breakfast.

but the more i think on it, i don't really have a prey drive.

i'm multiple predators; bobcat, snow leopard, kestrel, fox, coyote, cougar-- and i can't think of a single time i've looked at a small animal and thought prey.

potential food, sure-- but there was no urge accompanying the thought. just an idle recognition that that creature could be food if i were in a situation where i had to hunt it. i think humans have the same line of thought, especially if they are or have been around other humans who hunt for their food. i've known a lot of hunters in my life, so i wonder if that recognition of a deer or a squirrel or a rabbit as potential food just comes from that. it certainly doesn't have any accompanying instinct.

bobcats primarily hunt rabbits. when i see a wild cottontail outside, i don't think "i'm hungry and should catch that prey!", i think "huh. didn't expect to see a bunny in the open when there's so many coyotes around here."

small rodents are also common staples in the diets of bobcats, foxes, coyotes and kestrels. when i see a mouse or a squirrel or a rat or a chipmunk, i don't want to hunt it. that takes way too much effort.

the most my hunting instincts ever really trigger is when it comes to spotting quick traces of movement. kestrels and cats will happily snatch lizards when they can. being obsessed with reptiles now, i've taken advantage of that sense whenever i'm looking for wild lizards and snakes-- or trying to see the skittish mourning geckos in my indoor vivarium. even then, i don't watch them with the intent of eating them. if i want to catch the reptile i'm after, it will be released after i'm done looking at it and talking about its species to whoever's nearby to listen.

the thing is, foxes and coyotes are fundamentally lazy when it comes to food, foxes especially so. they're opportunists. both will happily eat roadkill and other carrion, or steal parts of other predator's kills. foxes will go for just about anything they can eat, and the less effort it takes to get, the better. eggs, worms, berries, garbage, bits off my mate's plate-- easy meals that take little effort to get are highly preferred over anything i have to hunt down. it's one of the many reasons that feeding wild foxes is a bad thing. foxes are lazy. if you can get an easy (even if unhealthy) meal from this human's backyard, why bother expending the energy to roam a territory searching for food? hell, why bother having a territory? if there's such an easy food source here, there's no need to maintain territory large enough to ensure you can find enough food for yourself. not having a territory to patrol means you can spend more time eating from the human's backyard.

the only time i ever feel that my predatory instincts really get triggered is whenever migrating goose calls push me into an arctic fox shift-- and then it's still the eggs i focus on more than the goslings. they don't struggle as much.

honestly, prey drive is the least of my concerns when it comes to alterhuman-related instincts, but the satyr's instincts should be left to their own essay.

if i wasn't a fox as well as a bobcat, would i have a prey drive? would the sight of a fawn away from its mother strike me with the desire to leap? would i want to crunch down the chipmunk in the garden or would i still watch it with the idle fascination of an already-satiated cat? would seeing the hawks circling the nearby field fill my kestrel's heart with envy because i can't fly high, scanning the ground for prey?

i don't know. but as it is, the combination of things i am has created a creature with no prey drive whatsoever, and i suppose that's okay. lack of hunting instinct doesn't make me any less what i am. hell, it may even reinforce it.

lazy fox, indeed.

[miasmaghoul]

OKAY MIASMA HEAR ME OUT

I have the feeling Rain would go like ABSOLUTELY feral when being bloodthirsty. Like, despite his usual calm demeanor he’d do anything to hunt down his prey, maybe some innocent sibling of sin. He’d play with his prey, maybe torture them (but he would even recognize his cruelty himself even though his packmates look at him like 👁️👄👁️ when watching him hunt because his behavior is so different from usual)

Also he’d have like THE deathstare when stalking after his prey, watching from the shadows OR he’d just sit there like

“:3”

I am so on board w literally ALL of this Kenny omg

Him lurking just below the surface of the lake, hidden in the dark waters while he watches a Sibling on their way for a midnight swim. Really playing with them, grazing their leg with his tail, or their back with an icy claw. Barely even touching them, but letting them know they aren't alone. Feeling the way the water heats around them when their anxiety eventually spikes, Rain backs off so they can try to swim away from whatever is in the water with them.

Rain gives them a five second head start before gliding silently through the water, grabbing their ankle and dragging them under for just a second. Less than a second, just a sudden tug intended to shock. To make them inhale just a little lake water. They swim harder then, but they don't know that the lake is on Rain's side. Catching the Sibling in an sudden whirlpool takes no effort at all.

It happens faster in the water. They always tire so quickly, more energy needed to swim than there would be to run. Still, though, Rain treasures those few precious minutes. Torments and terrifies until the fight leaves their body. Until they stop flailing and kicking, until he can get his fangs in their neck.

Until he can drag them down to the rocky lakebed and watch the water turn red.

(Also that art FUCKING RULES OMFG.)

[misscorn]

Day 1: Confusion/Fancy

This is my first entry for @sihjrweek this year :) short, but silly, and I hope you enjoy

***

Sorata was a good cat. In fact, he would argue he was the very best cat in the whole world. He was quick and smart and he only scratched the furniture sometimes. Best of all, he regularly brought his human gifts. Of course, his human - Saga Masamune - never seemed to react to these gifts quite right, but Sorata figured it was a weird human thing. The cat didn't let Saga's less than ideal reactions discourage him from continuing to leave gifts.

Sorata wanted to show his love and appreciation, after all! He wanted to pay the lovely human back for taking him in when no one else would. What better way to do that than leaving animals that Sorata had personally taken the time and energy to hunt for? The only issue was that Sorata hadn't seemed to find the right kind of prey that Saga would like. He was sure that was the only issue.

Saga didn't seem to like it when Sorata got out either, always trying to block his path or catch him, but he was only successful half of the time. The other half of the time Sorata managed to escape and Saga left a window open for Sorata to jump back into the house when he returned. Sorata knew he was disobeying by escaping, but it was worth it to bring Saga a gift! Plus, he was a cat. Disobedience was in his blood, no matter how good of a cat he was.

Sorata was slipping back into the Saga household now, having darted out of the house this morning when his owner left. Sorata wasn't sure where Saga went almost every morning, but recently when he came back he'd return with a friend. Sorata liked this new friend that Saga referred to as 'Ritsu'. At first Sorata hadn't been too sure about him, sensing his anxious energy, but Ritsu was a nice person. Plus, Saga seemed happier whenever he was around Ritsu, so Sorata couldn't help but to warm up to him quickly.

Sorata trotted up to Saga's room with his latest prize, wondering if he was back yet from wherever he went during the day. He saw that Saga's bedroom door was slightly ajar so he pawed at it until it opened enough for Sorata to go inside. Sorata spotted the two humans sitting together on the floor with their faces pressed together, but the one called Ritsu jumped away from Saga when the door creaked.

Saga looked toward the door, his face shifting into a subtle expression of annoyance. Sorata recognized that look from whenever he would get up on Saga's desk and plop himself on whatever papers Saga was trying to focus on.

"Oh, it's just So-" Saga was relieved to see the cat was safely back home before he noticed the dead animal in Sorata's mouth. "No! No, out, out, take it out." Saga scolded, trying to shoo him away.

"I-Is that a bird?" Ritsu asked, his previously red face becoming devoid of all color.

Sorata let out a 'prrmp', chirping happily at Ritsu acknowledging his hard work before he dropped the bird on to the floor.

"No!" Saga scolded again and Sorata mewed pathetically, confused at his owner's harsh reaction. Why was he so upset? He didn't like the mouse, didn't like the chipmunk, and now he doesn't like the bird either? What is Sorata doing wrong? Does Saga want bigger animals? Sorata isn't sure if he can manage, but he'll do his best...

Sorata found himself being kicked out of the room, his present going in the trash along with his other presents. He thought he might have heard Ritsu murmur something along the lines of 'I think I'm going to be sick', but he ignored that.

Sorata supposed there was nothing to do but try again!

[mymarifae]

i think if you're scared of bugs and/or spiders and you'd rather not be, learning about and watching jumping spiders is one of the best places to start. they're very sweet, very curious, and very friendly !! they're clever little guys too - i think a lot about that one person who was knitting or crocheting or something and found a little jumping spider on their hand copying them with its silk. they have very good eyesight and are better at detecting patterns than elephants which is so fascinating !! when hunting, they spend a lot of time observing their prey, to determine if it's really prey for instance, and then to memorize its movement patterns and such. (jumping spiders don't build webs to catch prey! they stalk and pounce on it) and they have shown time and time again that they distinctly remember all of the different kinds of bugs they hunt and they remember what works for what and what doesn't. they experiment and learn and show some very amazing cognitive skills!! bugs (spiders aren't bugs but whatever) are usually seen as not having cognitive processes because of how small they are, and how different they are from mammals. but jumping spiders are here to remind us that we can't be so close-minded

like. just an example of how impressive jumping spider cognition is: the genus portia eats almost exclusively other spiders and it tailors its techniques to the specific species it hunts. and like, well just look at this

jumping spiders have also been observed to Plan. rather than charging directly at prey, or just somewhere it wants to go, a jumping spider will sit and observe its surroundings (with its very very very advanced little eyeballs!!) and determine the best possible route to get what it wants, even if it means going the "wrong" way at first. they have little minds and an understanding of the world!! they think - not in exactly the same way humans do, but they aren't mindless. they experience pain just like any other animal, they want to eat well and be hydrated, and they want to be safe and live their tiny little lives.

and this doesn't apply only to jumping spiders. it applies to all bugs and spiders and what have you!!

when it comes to being afraid of bugs, it's really, really important to remember that it's just a little life. it's not any less significant than yours! you don't have to love it, but you should respect it. don't stomp and kill and spray with poison needlessly :( like, it's literally not going to hurt you. it has no interest in hurting you. bugs and spiders are not malicious creatures. they're either terrified of you or they're confused and have no idea what the fuck you are. and are also kind of terrified but as frequently observed with jumping spiders, some species are bold! and curious!

but a bug will never attack you. think about it: they're tiny. defense mechanisms like biting and stinging take a lot of energy and may even result in their own deaths. they aren't interested in dying. they'll only defend themselves if they feel threatened.

every species, every ecosystem, every life plays an important role on this planet. just because you find it easier to relate to a cat than a wasp doesn't make the wasp's life lesser. just because it's easy for you to kill bugs doesn't mean you should. in fact, i think that because it's so easy for us to kill them and destroy their homes it's imperative that we make the effort to be gentle and kind.

if a bug is in your home... so what? is it actively causing you harm or is it just hanging out in a corner somewhere? because 80% of the time it's going to be the latter, not the former. but if its presence is really bothering you or if it's like, a black widow trying to make your bedroom her new house, is... killing it really your best choice? grab a cup, grab a piece of paper, and move it outside. i understand that getting close enough to catch a bug when you're afraid of it is hard but i don't think it's fair to just kill it. would you kill a cat that wandered onto your porch or something ?? no?? why is it different for a bug :(

our world is a beautiful place and we coexist alongside some amazing species. take a little time to try and respect all of them 🫶🏾 no love necessary! just respect!! but you'll notice that things aren't as lonely and disconnected when you start to value the little lives, too

[lorewarden]

OC x Mother Koril: Part 8

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) Note: This is a long one. Like I said, I didn't want to rush the girls' quality time, and I didn't want to divide this part of the story into more than 2 chapters (dividing it at all hadn't been my initial plan). Trigger warning: hunting.

Later in the evening, Koril finds herself pondering if she had been overly harsh on the woman. If it had been a mere matter of a defense mechanism, who was she to criticize her for it? And it did indeed seem probable, for if Nita or anyone else on The Purrgil had harbored sinister intentions, Koril would have picked up on it by now – as wary as she had been in the days until their landing.

No, she finally admits to herself. The true cause of such vitriol on her part had been the uncanny resemblance Nita's charm bore to that of her late wife. Aniseya had been quite adept at using hers to full advantage, particularly in the early days of their relationship, when it had been her imperative to talk Koril into having children together. And later, for years after the birth of their girls, to mollify her during their parental disagreements.

Koril shakes her head to rid herself of the memories and resolves to meditate – focus on the life around her. She sits on the grass cross-legged. But just a quick peek... She turns to Nita and observes her Pattern. It is one of sorrow, loss, and regret. She wonders at it. Could they have perhaps been kindred spirits without knowing it? Could Nita's loss – whatever it was - possibly be comparable to hers? She looks deeper and sees criss-crossing shapes that belie internal conflict.

No. She scolds herself, I have intruded enough.

***

Nita is gently prodded awake at the crack of dawn. A fruity smell permeates the biting mountain air, and she realizes that Koril is holding two steaming cups of tea. The Zabrak is fully dressed and there is not a trace of morning fatigue on her face, amber eyes gleaming with an alertness and eagerness.

She forces herself upright and accepts the cup. They drink their tea in companionable silence. The drink is sweet with an underlying sour note, and soon takes the desired effect. She stretches, cracks her knuckles a few times, and shakes off the last vestiges of sleep. Koril turns on a holomap and zeroes in on their area before launching into a detailed explanation of her proposed route. It involves circling the mountain westward, then trekking through the forest directly towards it, whereby they would make their first hunting attempt, and stopping for lunch on the other side. Nita nods along.

“You, any suggestions?”, Koril inquires.

“Nope, it your show. Let's pack and get a move-on.”

Their backpacks filled with protein bars, ropes, hunting knives, canteens of water and a few extra clothing items, they set off. Nita walks behind Koril, who uses her energy staff as a walking stick. It is early yet, and the forest is quiet, but as they make their way further in, the chatter of birds and critters unseen starts filling the air. Koril's steps, initially probing and cautious, steadily gain confidence and speed. Even with this change, they scarcely make a sound. Soon she is gliding between the trees and elegantly dodging the sprawling acthorn branches as if born here, and Nita can't help but admire the sight. Her own movements are but a touch less smooth, though equally quiet.

She spots several small mammals on the way and asks if they would make suitable prey.

“Not yet”, Koril turns to reply, “We would do better to stay as mobile as possible until we reach the other side, which will be easier without the extra weight.”

Neither is keen on breaking the tempo, so it is only before noon that they snack on protein bars, and they do so on their feet. After that, it takes them another two hours to reach the uneven cliffside at the other edge of the forest. They set their bags down and slump next to them with ragged breaths. Nita realizes they are both out of wind, but were apparently too stubborn to notice – or admit to it – earlier. She spots a bead of sweat running between Koril's horns and instinctively reaches to wipe it off her. The Zabrak's exhaustion prevents her from recoiling at the sudden movement, but her expression is one of surprise, shortly replaced by comprehension. “Ah – sorry”, Nita mumbles awkwardly. “That's alright. Appreciated,” comes the barely-audible response.

“To be clear, we're still going hunting later”, Koril adds louder.

“I didn't doubt it,” Nita laughs. “Why are you so dead-set on it, by the way?”

“Living in the city, one gets complacent. We would do well to keep our skills sharp... lest we forget where we came from,” the last part she says more to herself.

A few hours of rest, and they're back on their feet, ropes and knives at their belts. They make back for the forest in search of more animals like the ones they saw earlier in the day. The creatures were abundant here, and surely enough, Koril soon finds several sets of pawprints, one diverging from the group. The pair opt to go after the others. They follow lightfooted and silent in their focus, until the Zabrak's firm hand stops Nita in her tracks and gestures somewhere to their left. Nita turns and sees the tiny creatures some ten meters away, fussing around an especially old-looking tree with protruding, tangled roots. Koril takes a rope and starts tying it into something that looks like a lasso. Not quite a lasso, Nita notes as she observes the slender, deft fingers at work, something more elaborate. Once finished, Koril gives it a gentle tug and smiles, pleased with her handiwork, and places it in the grass. “You -” she mouths to Nita and makes a half-circle gesture, “go behind them – get them running to me.”

Nita motions to the one of the daggers “Can't we – a biiit closer – and throw?”

“Too risky. After – when they come.”

Nita acknowledges and touches the energy staff. “May I? To herd.”

“Good idea,” Koril approves.

Nita lingers for another moment, as her companion gets into ready position – knees bent, leaning forward, eyes fixed on the target, and that same feral grin. The Zabrak was now a predator waiting to leap, to unleash her considerable energy, fully in her element.

The human is careful to maintain the distance as she circles the creatures and skulks behind them. Finally, she releases a shrill, unintelligible yell and bangs the energy staff against their tree. The result is immediate, and the animals take flight – two in Koril's direction, two sideways, and Nita leaps to redirect them. A dull thud tells her that a dagger has struck its mark, and she herds the two towards Koril's trap, swinging the staff to block their intended escape routes. A crack from the rope as it springs to life on Zabrak's pull. Nita's two are now scurrying in opposite directions, so she throws the staff at one, resulting in a sickening crunch, but she's already launching her whole body at the other – it's all she can do to stop herself grabbing it with the Force. It changes directions and she misses by several centimeters, landing flat on the grass.

However, this provides Koril with the time to close the distance. With a feline precision, she leaps right on top of the creature and grabs it by the throat. She regards it for a moment, then lets it go and crouches beside Nita. “Are you hurt?”, she asks with a measure of concern, trying not to laugh.

“Just bruised pride. I'll live.”

She helps Nita to her feet and giggles at her sour expression. “That was actually pretty impressive. You have excellent reflexes, except for that last bit,” she offers reassurance – and promptly undermines it with another bout of giggling. “Your face!”

Nita finds it so unexpected and endearing that she forgets her own pouting. It's contagious. The two are now positively howling with laughter, holding their bellies and patting each other on the back.

Later in the day, having concluded that they wouldn't make it back to the speeder and the tents before dark, they decide to spend the night at the cliffside, to sleep under the open sky. They're chatting lively as they recount the day's events by the firelight. Nita is captivated by the sight of shadows dancing across Koril's face as if merrily skipping over the dark, striped tattoos. It is the last image in her mind's eye before she drifts off, and for the first time in days, she feels content.

***

The following two days in the wilderness – and good company – have reinvigorated Koril. She speaks more freely, questions herself less, and feels as though she could take on the galaxy. Not that this was her intention, of course. When the time comes for them to go back to Drev'starn, she is sorry to leave, but contented by the thought that they would return. The “return” and the “they” of it all was somehow not a point of contention in her mind. She shares this with a delighted Nita when she asks her if they could explore further next time. The human happily agrees, and per Koril's request, promises to keep the decision to herself for the time being.

It is early evening when they arrive in the city. As they were due to take off in mere hours, they go to The Purrgil without detours. Jhoram, Garr, Hestia, and Hex are already there, and the others are on their way.

“You went camping?”, Hestia is outraged at not having been invited. “Maybe next time, kiddo”, Nita offers an apologetic smile.

“Camping, 's that what th' kids are callin' it these days?”, Hex snidely directs at the two.

Koril understands the implication immediately, and so does Captain Jhoram. Before she can respond, he buzzes over and places both blue hands over Hestia's ears. “NOT in front of my daughter, Hex, how many times do I have to tell you...” For the Besalisk's part, he doesn't seem to care, and gives only a half-hearted “sorry, boss”.

“What else would we call it?”, she hears Nita's low voice behind her. Befuddled, she turns to face her, and is met with a quizzical expression. This takes her aback – sure, the human was younger than her, but not that young.

“Kriffing”, she hisses into Nita's ear.

Her companion assumes the color of a Zeltron's arse.

End note: As I was writing this, I figured I needed to come up with a more concrete way to depict how the Thread is used, so I threw together some thoughts here. Special thanks to @isaackuo for a brilliant suggestion which I hope to put to good use later in the story.

[fanby-fckry]

Regarding shrike!Alastor and wings, I made some rough calculations and his wingspan would be almost 9 feet 9 inches. But then there is also interesting thing that loggerhead shrikes' wings are somewhat short, and actually use up more energy to fly, requiring frequent flapping. Shorter wingspan allows them to be more agile, but they cannot soar for long. Their hunting style reflects that, often involving perching up on high branches of shrubs and observing area, flying off once they notice prey. In comparison, American Crow wings are really good for soaring and while they are a bit less agile due to larger size of wings, they need much less energy to sustain flight. Crows have habit of taunting other animals, often larger than them by pecking and tugging their tails, because they are confident in their ability to take off into air quickly and are smart enough to be jerks. Owl wings are gliding wings, they have more agility than power soaring wings of crows but have a glaring issue of weakness to water. Also owls often fluff up and pose their wings in specific way that makes them look larger, which has interesting similarities to Alastor's tendency to grow larger to intimidate prey — bird anon

Oooh, cool! I was operating under the assumption that his wings would grow in his demonic form because he already gets all tall and spindly, so of course the wings would follow suit, but even without growing, they’d still be able to cast a shadow that completely covers Husk as long as he doesn’t have his own wings out (which he wouldn’t in that scene).

Crows being assholes fits perfectly with Alastor. I’ve also seen crows instigate fights between other animals, before, which has parallels to Alastor trying to drive a wedge between the Vees in Stayed Gone. (I think he succeeded, too, if only momentarily. Val and Vel were all 🤭 at the “he’d be powerless without the other Vees” line.)

And bringing up owls again reminds me of another cat-owl parallel for Husk!

Ok, so, cats’ aversion to water has been slightly exaggerated. Some cats do just fine with water, and I think the idea came from humans trying to bathe their pet cats, which. Don’t do that unless your cat is long-haired or there are some other extenuating circumstances (flea baths, cat got into something they shouldn’t be licking off themselves, etc.) cats are perfectly capable of grooming themselves. They’re very cleanly animals and hate not having control over situations, so of course they aren’t going to be happy with humans dunking them in water. And the spray bottle thing is actually because so many individual droplets give them a sort of sensory overload, not because of the water, itself.

Meanwhile, owls and water? There’s a good chance you know this already, bird anon, but for my casual bird enjoyers out here, owls are not water-safe.

They gave up the waterproof coating most birds have in exchange for extra quiet flight.

The mental image of Husk being about as useless in the rain as Roy Mustang, sulking like a literal pathetic wet cat, is going to be with me for a while.

[pb-dot]

Film Friday: Hush (2016)

I'm on a bit of a thriller track after talking about Red Eye last week. Today I want to talk about another movie where a woman deals with a threatening man, and things are decidedly less romcom initially, aiming for more of a "this madman is hunting people for sport" kind of vibe. There is something to be said for drilling down to the core of things.

Maddie is an author and, like many of us, she's a bit of a recluse. Granted, not all of us take it to the level where they live alone in the woods, but I'm sure more would if presented with the opportunity. Further adding to her isolation is the fact that Maddie is deaf-mute after a childhood illness. Nevertheless, Maddie's days of not quite being able to make herself write and battling imposter syndrome get disrupted when one of her few friends in the area is brutally murdered by a masked assailant who, upon realizing that Maddie is deaf, decides to really fuck with her.

What follows is an almost uncomfortably tense game of cat and mouse. The assailant, so mysterious his role's credited as "The Man," clearly enjoys the power Maddie's deafness affords him, and so instead of sneaking up to her and killing her right away, steals her phone and starts terrorizing her by sending her pictures from the thing. In an early confrontation, he even unmasks in front of Maddie to make it crystal clear that he does not intend for her to make it through the night.

This isn't to say Maddie is taking this all lying down, far from it. After an early encounter puts her in a position where her two choices are 1: killing this guy or 2. dying out here, she does gun for the stronger, faster, decidedly more bloodthirsty man with what little she has. It's one of those desperate struggles that even when Maddie pulls a Wait Until Dark (1967) with her visual fire alarm is settled more by a lucky shot than any innate ability.

It's a nasty, brutish kind of story, but I honestly feel better about the brutishness than say The Strangers, who pits preternaturally sneaky and scheming killers against regular fallible humans. The Man is not the kind of man you want to be pitted against, but he's strong and capable in the way a regular human might be, and he bleeds like the rest of us. It makes for a high-tension sort of chase that maintains the energy despite a relatively low bodycount for a slasher.

Hush is a product of mid-budget horror master Mike Flannagan and his wife and co-writer Kate Siegel, who also plays the main character. I would have preferred to see the main role be played by a deaf actress. Not because Siegel does a bad job or anything, she's quite excellent and expressive and does a lot to communicate the character and the horrors that she faces. It'd just be a really cool role for a deaf actress, like how Millicent Simmonds really elevated A Quiet Place to something quite special.

The movie is decidedly less of a heady experience than many others I favor, but this isn't a strike against it in my book. Hush finds its home in the limbic system. It's not what it's about or how it is about it, it's about how there's a guy out there and he can see you but you can't see him and he's going to GET you. It's a primal fear, prey fear, more concerned with its emotional impact than what it's saying.

This isn't to say it has nothing in that regard, paralleling Maddie's ability to plan for her survival with her ability to work out and visualize a plot. Like many writers before her, she's struggling with the impossibility of getting her plot started, and she similarly struggles with engaging with the main challenges to survival until something in her figures out that there's no other choice than to Do It Scared or face death with a whimper. This feels very correct as far as writing processes go, although the stakes generally aren't quite as high as death.

It feels wrong to call a movie as brutal as Hush fun, but certainly is captivating. It does terrible things to the protagonist, but more for catharsis than for fun, and once in a while I believe it's healthy for the soul to have a movie kick the shit out of you.

[nerdyenby]

Limited Life playlist

Explaining my song choices for the Limited Life section of my traffic series playlist

Rise up by Imagine Dragons: everyone reaching upwards, scraping the sky and striving for more. “I would always open up the door, always looking up for higher floors. Wanna see it all, give me more (rise, rise up).” As the game progresses, players grow in boldness, even as their time whittles downward. “The more I strain, the less I fear. And the more I reach, the more I fade away. The darkness right in front of me, oh, it’s calling out and I won’t walk away.”

River Run by Cereus Bright: Martyn starting to take risks, striving for success and preparing for it to blow up in his face. The chance of victory is worth it, he’s already laying the foundations, even if it marks his doom. “I’d rather fall than stay on the ground. I used to play it safe, walled up my heart to escape. Hiding from beauty and from pain, this is no way to live. Time for these to win.” He teams with Scott but it’s a looser alliance than he’d ever voice. “These are murky waters, oh the farther we go down.”

Mr Hyde by Braden Bales: Martyn getting the bogeyman curse and running away so he doesn’t turn on Scott. “I promise I didn’t want this, I can’t believe I’m so lost. I’m turning into Mr Hyde, I think he’ll make you cry. […] It’s not a pretty sight, I lost when I tried to fight him.” Martyn eventually satiates the curse and heads back to Scott, but I also enjoy the potential double meaning of this song not only representing the bogeyman curse, but also Martyn’s own festering ambition.

Pitchfork Kids by AJR: With Scott having by far the most time, he and Martyn become the server’s primary targets. “When the skies are open, we’ll still be singing this: I know they’re coming for me, we’re not the pitchfork kids.” They are the hunted, and Martyn’s not a fan of being the prey. “Why should I spend time running for my life?”

Sixty Five by Gentle Bones: Martyn sticking by Scott’s side, squashing his desire for self-preservation to stay with his only ally. “Tonight, we’ll make it out alive. We’ll leave it all behind and stand up, for all that we love will always be enough.”

Out of the Woods by Taylor Swift: Scott and Martyn keep heading off and doing their own things, but they always come back to each other. When the whole world is against them, they run together. “We were built to fall apart and fall back together. […] Are we out of the woods yet? Are we in the clear yet? In the clear yet, good.”

Anti-Curse by boygenius: Scott asking Martyn to be the one to kill him when they were being chased into the ocean. “Friendly fire, point blank. Salt in my lungs, holding my breath. Making peace with my inevitable death”

Time by James Barre: “I feel like I’m running out of energy to say these things, I do not have the time, my time now. It’s probably just a waste of time, my time, oh.” Martyn has so much more time than everyone else left standing, but it’s still not enough. He keeps clawing for more time.

Not Strong Enough by boygenius: “Every clock’s a different time, it would only take the energy to fix it.” As people’s clocks start closing in on zero, people are begging their allies to kill them and take their time, but not Scott and Martyn. They’re both in a good position, but even if Scott had needed time, Martyn wouldn’t have given it to him. He’s sick of being stuck as “Always an angel, never a god.”

Blur by Imagine Dragons: “I wanna be satisfied with what I have. I’m always chasing higher placement, this bump is not enough. […] I’m always hoping for a reset. I will be happier when I’m older. Why is everything never good enough for me? Why is everything never…? I’m never satisfied. I’m starting to blur.” Martyn has not come this far to leave anything to chance. He will not settle for anything less than victory. He needs more, he needs more time, he needs to win.

Overheated by Billie Eilish: The final three agreeing to an unarmed battle without armor to end it all, and Martyn stabbing them in the back when they least expect it. “You wanna kill me? You wanna hurt me? Stop being flirty […] I’m overheated. Can’t be defeated, can’t be deleted, can’t be repeated.”

I Did Something Bad by Taylor Swift: Martyn just killed two unarmed men in a fit of passion and he has no regrets. This game was always meant to end in blood. Honor has no place in war. He won and he enjoyed it. “I don’t regret it one bit ‘cause he had it coming. They said I did something bad, then why’s it feel so good?”

Intro by Alt 9, Eric Grooms & Brendan Foery: “What if I wake up and I can’t hear myself speak? I would still scream at the top of my lungs ‘til my throat went dry and my tongue went numb. I would still dance ‘til my cheeks went red, my legs went weak, and my feet both bled. So I’m on my knees and I’m almost dead.” As Martyn celebrates his victory, he is struck down by the heavens. He knew death was going to come for him, but he was hoping to not again find himself falling through the infinite abyss.

[a-weird-writer]

Which Demon lords have the most Tsundere potential?

I feel most people say Clayman.

However, I deem Ramiris!

You've seen the way she acts right?

Everyone that knows her not even personally tells she is a gentle pleasantness, a kind person to boot but smug to a fault, who turns extremely emotional in the second she feels threatened; Ramiris may come off annoying, it stems from her childish nature, but she is very morally persistent despite how difficult she can be to deal with.

Often persistent in her findings and pursuits, attached to new souls, heroes and shiny things. Beings like her admire and are attracted to beauty and changes in nature. Ramiris is naturally cautious of bigger things and a little distrustful of humans. Being so tiny makes Ramiris seem like easy prey, but she can be brave when she really wants to be.

She truly means well on the inside, her heart is a non-malicious one, contrary to her Demon Lord title; her friendships and kin are deeply valued, close and protective with a generosity to gift potential heroes her blessings and aid, worthy of a Hero's Guide.

She's really a sheep coated in steel wool, definitely no wolf, but is something else alright. She is smaller now, energy shrunk. It seems easy enough to cut off her wings, but you will quickly find the contrary. Even in a much weaker fairy form, Ramiris knows how to survive; she of all people can recite the world's laws by heart, word for word, definition by definition. Knowledge large enough to overrun the neighboring nation's biggest libraries worldwide, being alive so long. Her hardheadedness and high intellect make her an annoying but furious fighter, determined to give the best shot possible. Her foes do well in remembering to never underestimate her; the moment she pounces, she pounces hard, a brave ram standing up to almost anything.

As soon as you reveal to her a threat, she will take you down!

(Well. She lets her friends try first, out of the kindness of her heart! Not because she is weak, she can take down almost anyone as easily as the other Demon Lords! Honest!)

Ramiris is willful, quick to act and devise solutions. Defensive and heartful, calling out anyone she thinks is unfair and spilling bullshit, to the degree where she will give Guy Crimson a piece of her mind once deemed necessary. Her lover is no exception.

Is demanding of her S/O, but in a considerate way. Ramiris just wants you near, wishes for nothing less than for you to take great care and travel with caution. This world is a dirty one, it hunts and kills. You and Beretta calm a majority of her stress on her bad days, she can be a mess, but you hardly mind helping her get a hold of herself to stop choking. You are a wonder, a marvel to the eyes, but confusing. A home apart from the Labyrinth, bringing novelty gifts and happy talks. You come by often, putting Ramiris in a pouty stutter. She doesn't have many visitors you will realize, even less ones that come by like you. Much to her surprise, you want nothing then to sit down and start a peaceful conversation. Like you're an old friend, waiting to catch up with their companion. She gets used to you faster than she would expect, much to Beretta's suspicion.

Fairies and Demon Lords don't ponder feelings-emotions can be such fragile things, especially with how lovely she finds you. She is enthusiastic, happy to share with you how powerful and ancient she is. This is where she expects you to leave, bored of her knowledge and antics. Left astray, a subject of mockery for the arrogant. But you never judged her for it. If anything, you want to be closer than ever; a humane curiosity long lost to her kin.

Ramiris wonders if she's funny to you, is she some center of a joke to you?! She hates being laughed at you know!

It's all in good faith of course, good times and laughter. Fun and games, friendship.

You read her like an open book, like you predicted the plot long before she did, cherishing every word on every page. She lets you in, though hesitantly, your presence is thoroughly enjoyed to the fullest, as she cares less to treat you with cruelty.

You practically have a free pass to see her, isn’t she so generous? Feeling closer to her each time you come together, drinking tea and eating tasty pastries baked by her loyal servant. Her nature is endearing, her smugness attractive even if most people don't agree. Even as Ramiris ends it in yet another brag, stuffing her face in sweet breads and pastries, you humble her smug nature, partaking in stories of old tales and times of the ancient past.