#nature keeps dead birds from snakes to live

[gonzodangerfeels]

For real though.

What the fuck am I.

LMAO

Fucking church library

Church of the Palms.

Home of bells, boners, lesbian(sorry Amazonian that's the catch)single mother support groups, and hair counting choir chamber maids that have great expectations and Kirk Cameron religious dogma.

[empressgeekt]

Trolls - Burning Branches - Role Reversal Au (part 1)

SO, so earlier I read a fic where Poppy didn't go to branch for help in the first movie and the village was left abandoned with Branch as the only survivor after the revival of Trollstice. Meaning he was alone when Barb invaded...And it has inspired a different route on to how Char and Poppy would meet.

Links to OG AU posts, 1, 2, 3

Char = Branch as it would.

We start with the events of the first movie. Poppy would run off to save her friends and she would succeed, however, when they arrived back to the village there wasn't anyone there. Or at least that's what the snackpack thinks. They find little Keith crawling out of some of the fresh rubble, he has a small frown but it was Shocking to Poppy as the boy was usually expressionless. From Keith they learn that the bergens came back while they were trying to leave, and his dad hid him in a bush. The attack was days ago...

Some members of the SnackPack want to go back to get the rest of the village, but Poppy knows that she barely got her friends out of there, an entire village was a completely different challenge, and Trollistice had already passed...They would need help. There had to be people out there who would help them.

Staying in the village is out of the question, so they gather what they can from the destruction, and move on. They walk for days, and living in the woods is harder then expected. It really opens Poppy's eyes to the true nature of the wilderness, especially since she's taking care of Keith (the Blank child clings to her since she found him). They try singing to keep their spirits up, but singing attracts predators. Large spiders and snakes, come at them from all directions. Creek (no he didn't betray them...yet) can't talk them down. Food is scarce, they don't know which berries are safe. And eventually they all get caught in a storm, getting washed away.

By some miracle they all wake up the next morning by the edge of the forest. Before them stretches vast plains, some patches of the ground darkened in ways they are un-familiar. Here they are faced with a choice go back into the forest with all it's dangers or face the unknown ones just beyond the threshold. Creek tries to argue that they should stay with what they know, convincing Biggie, Guy Diamond (who has been feeling sick), and the twins that they shouldn't take a chance. However, Poppy, Cooper, DJ, smidge and Fuzzbert think that the unknown is worth the risk. Cooper saying he was technically from the unknown, and maybe they could find where he was born. In the end Creek is out-voted.

The plains are different. There aren't as many spiders or birds, but snakes are still an issue as well as a lack of natural shelter for the sun. its hot, and it only grows hotter. the land slowly becomes more and more burnt, more and more black. The ground is turning their feet red as they walked. Then they heard a screech, and were swarmed with Leather Vipers (leather Vipers are the main predators in my version of Rock Troll territory, basically picture a mix of snake/ Dragon made of polished leather and glowing warped metal teeth, claws and horns). It looks like the end, until they hear a second screm from above.

And Anglerbus is over head, and jumping from it, are...other trolls. Coming to the SnackPack's rescue. A few power cords and the vipers are scared off. Poppy feels great relief at seening them. They weren't the last trolls, these guys were here, and even better they had ways to defend themselves. In her eyes they were saved. Creek while thankful to not be dead, isn't as welcoming of these strangers. These dully color strangers covering in scares and scowling at them. At least on the surface, he's still "polite" to get the aid their group desperately needed.

Val Thundershock is part of the group that was on the Anglerbus, she's a little surprised to find a group of Pop trolls (and one funk) out in the Rock Wastes. No one knew where the Pop trolls had gone since the split and frankly no one cared, however she did want to know why they would suddenly invade the territory.

Val: Well, Well, Well, we got us some little pop trolls, now what exactly are you doing in Rock territory?

Poppy: Hi, first off thank you so much, we would've been if it wasn't for you.

Val: yeah I know, now what are you doing here? I hope you realize that Pop trolls aren't exactly welcome here.

Creek (rudely cuts in): Pop trolls?

Val: That's what you are right? Peppy, over excited, happy music lovers?

Poppy: Well kinda...

Val: Then you might as well turn around. Your kind isn't welcome here.

Poppy: Wait please!

Val: Go home, there's nothing for you here

Poppy: We don't have a home! Our home was destroyed by the bergens! We're all that's left!

Val dismissal is finally the thing that gets Poppy to shout. Finally accepting that yes her home is gone and that they were the only survivors. They all had been ignoring the subject while the woods. It's a hard truth to swallow, but one she chokes down to get Val to listen. And listen Val does. When Poppy confirms that they were indeed the last pop trolls. Val immediately shifts gears, as even if the tribes didn't get along, Genres needed each other to remain in balance. Not since the dancing plague of the disco tribe did one go completely extinct. Still it isn't her call, to preserve the genre. Thankfully she was on the same ride, as a very close friend to her. She tells one of the Rockers to contact Prince Char.

Creek, pulls Poppy aside, and expresses his concerns over these new trolls. Saying they shouldn't trust them. Poppy asks why, and Creek starts explaining that he was warned about trolls who were dulled. Saying that when he was a child there had been a grey trolling who lived near by and that grey one had killed his own grandmother. Poppy, says that she understands that Creek is scared, but they don't really have a choice. AT that moment Guy would throw up adding to Poppy's argument, saying that at the least they need food, shelter and a doctor for Guy. Creek can't really argue, especially since one of the Rock trolls came over to help the twins ease Guy too the ground.

The Anglerbus would land, and Char would walk out. The Rockers salute him as their prince, and that kind of intimidates Poppy, as while she is a Princess, she never actually interacted with another member of Royalty beyond her Dad. And Char is by far the dullest of all the strange trolls. Creeks words getting to her. Speaking of the idiot, he steps in to be the first to speak to the Prince.

Creek: Prince Char, it is lovely to meet you, I hope to extend an arm in friendship yes?

Char (not shaking Creek's hand): You speak for this group?

Creek: Well in a way. I-I wouldn't go that far. Second in command or spiritual leader might be a better fit. I do hope we can-

Char: cut to the chase, what is your business here?

Creek (taken aback): We come for aid, please it was horrible our village is destroyed. As fellow trolls we need to stick together.

Char (laughing dryly): You come here preaching unity after your kind split us apart. it's so ironic its funny.

Creek: I believe I don't understand.

Char: Centuries ago, the six tribes lived in harmony, until the Pop trolls, you kind tried to wipe out the rest of us. Destorying out music and culture triggering the great split and forcing us from our homes. Seem's the universe has come back to bit you.

Creek: I'm not sure where you've heard that but I assure you these rumors are not true in the slightest.

Char: they're aren't rumors their history. My people wouldn't be living out in these wastelands if it weren't for the split.

Creek: Then your history is incorrect. We'd never do such a thing, all trolls are supposed to be friends.

Char: *hum*, Treat there wounds, but start the bus, you'll receive no aid from us.

Creek: What?

Char: Don't act shocked, you gave everything I need to know. That "greater then thou" act won't fly here. You're intentions are not ones I can put trust or faith in, because they are not genuine. Go back to your king or and queen and tell them if they were trying an invasion, we the people of Rock will not hesitate to rain down hell fire on your home land.

Poppy: Wait! Please! *runs towards Char, with Keith in her arms only to be blocked by the Rockers* We're telling the truth! We don't have a home to go back too! We're all that's left Please help us!

Char: And who are you?

Poppy: I'm Princess Poppy, and I'm begging you. Help us.

Char: Take them up, get them settle, doctors food water. Then bring the princess to my quarters. We need to talk privately.

______

And I'll cut this off here. There's going to be a part 2.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

I'm curious on your take on the Ratman and ratlings' relationship with animals. Do you think they'd keep any and risk becoming attached? I feel this would outwardly effect Jack the most considering his love for all the weird shit they got in Australia but I think Arthur is also the type to be really hurt by the loss of a pet. But in a dad way. Like he'll begrudgingly take in the fucking cat one of his kids brings to his home out of the rain and the animal ends up being his partner in crime. He's stone-faced when it passes away and it takes a while for the pain to subside but he doesn't let it show for even a second. I don't imagine Matthew could handle the mental load of losing a beloved pet. Alfred is too fucking busy to properly care for one. Zee probably has a few birds whose babies she cares for for generations maybe a kiwi lol

TW for pet death

Alfred has had horses his entire life. He's got a ranch in his name somewhere where the descendants of the pair of horses, Liberty and Justice, that Matt gave him during the Civil War live. Justice got shot out from under him in 1864 but he went full Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie, dropped dead of idk, the shits and when he was feeling better Liberty was getting her hump on with a local stallion so he just made a ranch there and their descendants still fuck amongst the grasses or however the prairies work. Liberty is immortal because fuck I already killed one horse this post and I'm already emotional.

Matt... He just kept trying. Nations have semi immortal pets. All he wanted was a goddamn friend. François gave him a lap dog when he was little. It died in its first Canadian winter as was often the fate of anything smaller than a terrier. He tried a newfie. It drowned. Finally, around the 1780s he had a little black and white working dog he named Sel et Poivre who lasted a decade. But eventually he got ripped up by a wolverine and Matt was damned to eternal loneliness until Arthur had mercy on him and got attached enough to the wee fat house lion he named Flufferton he didn't die. Matt's best friend for awhile and favourite heat source at his father's. Cue 1980 with Canada finally getting it's full independence and Jan dropping him like a hot rock and Alfred got him a Samoyed puppy in the aftermath. I've called this dog Kuma, Bud and Buckwheat before. The neighbor backs over him by accident! and Matt low-key has the worst mental breakdown of his life like he's 20 seconds from getting the axe and ending up in grippy sock jail. Then the pupper pops up licks him and Matt has the happiest sob fest for like a solid week. Finally! Immortal pupper. No more perishing.

Jack is a fun example because he's very in tune with the circle of lire and his favourite pet was a tortoise named Harriet he's had on and off since 1830 when she died in 2006. So when she finally died of natural causes he was absolutely fucking devastated. Didn't get out of bed for a week after the funeral, cried his eyes out every time he saw a turtle or tortoise for years. She was his baby since he was a baby. Closest thing to losing a childhood dog a nation can express. He had plenty of snakes and spiders and dogs that passed on and they made him sad but oh Harriet 😭.

Zee has a budgie named Pavlova that Jack got her when she finally dropped the family name. Just so she can say she owns Pavlova. It spent a week with Uncle Matt during hockey season and went back to Mum telling everyone, "Give your balls a tug, tit fucker" and making nondescript sobbing sounds. And the singular devotion with which New Zealand intervenes in its bird's well-being? Oh yeah, they're her children. Entire genomes of Kiwi-birds and Kakapo and Kea. She personally hunts rats that threaten their population like it's 1916, flashlight between her teeth, knife in one hand, Arthur sweating like mad somewhere. Bird watching is something she and the old man have in common so he probably does jokingly call them her grandchildren. Zee gets beat in the shin by a screaming kiwi-bird, and he just picks it up like, "Now that's no way to treat your mother, lad! Mind your manners." Before it toddles off and any on-looker is just pure, what the fuck.

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 39: Take Me to Church (2)

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: The god of her world is dead and gone. Only Jashin can save her now, the woman who is in too deep over her head, the lover who sings of starlight.

Author's Note:

The song is Take Me to Church by Hozier. Please note that the nature of this chapter is much more NSFW than before and proceed accordingly.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

In…

…

Out...

A body. Two bodies. One is laying in front of her, pinkish and red, while the further is staring at them, stance wide as his eyes.

In…

…

Out...

The first body staggers in its attempts to get up as the second draws close. Kakuzu's face is recognized, and for once in this time together...she can tell he doesn’t know what to do.

No. That's not true.

This isn't that far apart from when he cared so much that his hand branded her skin.

In…

…

Out...

The hilt of the knife is sticking out of her thigh. He holds her wrists, palms up. They are hot and sticky.

The sighs of ocean’s tide draw in and fade out once again.

In…

…

Out...

He’s yelling at him. He yells back. Hidan’s face twists in pain as he holds his stomach and tries to keep upright. She sees her fingers twitch up to reach him, to try to help, and the two bodies visibly gasp and flinch towards her.

In…

…

Out...

The view of her thigh, Hidan’s knife slowly...carefully...slipped out by a hand with a rust-toned ring. Another with the color of aged turquoise pinches the open flesh shut, but not before you can see the layers that make up a poor sinner’s flesh. Skin and fat and muscle and bone.

A thin, black, featureless snake crawls from Kakuzu’s leather skin and enters her own. It goes in.

In…

It goes out.

Out...

It goes in.

In…

It goes out.

Out...

Her vision fades with the fragile whims of a shocked mind and the dreams that have haunted her many a night. She hears it, the bubbling, distant laughter underneath the surface of the water that drowned her long ago. Or maybe it’s just the blood in her ears.

Bare arms with circled tattoos frame her view of the wound now, reaching around her. And then her body feels light.

In…

…

Out...

Trees. Passing through them, like flying birds or falling leaves. Air is rushing past her, through a cloth that feels barely wrapped around her cold self. Her head is resting against something. Another rush of liquid, a soothing, slow blink in her reality...and she knows someone is looking at her.

In…

…

…

…

…

Out.

And the tide pulls back, leaving her on the bank of the conscious and living. The shade of light is warm, wrapping around darker features of this space she exists within. A blink of her own eyes...and she can tell she is laid on top of something soft. Flicker, flicker. Her vision passes from one object to the next, different directions and depths away. She doesn’t recognize this place...although…

...It also somehow feels...familiar.

“ACK—!”

She hears her first sound, Hidan grunting despite gritted teeth and bracing for the impact. Kakuzu has no remorse for how harshly he sews the pin cushion man all back together. Damn fool deserves this and so much more.

“What the HELL were you thinking?!”

She tries to answer but she can’t, tongue mute. Fate has decided this is not a conversation for her to partake in.

“Kakuzu, I—FUCK!”

The thread loops into him, though the exclamation may be from the way the named man grips Hidan’s shoulder tight.

“What in your perverted, twisted brain made you THINK-?! No. No. You didn’t think at all!”

“Kakuzu—!”

“Do you know…?!” he leans in close, nice and close so Hidan can see nothing but haunted gemstone eyes, the spirit in them aflame with fury. “Every day...we are one inch away from being THROWN OUT and NEVER seeing her again,” he hisses, deep and low. The reaper’s sneer could be from either his physical suffering or his emotional one. It isn’t enough. Nothing will be enough.

“We started this...with everyone being suspicious,” the rag doll continues. “And we nearly. Lost. It all. When they found that bruise.”

The damn bruise. Maybe that was enough. Maybe they did deserve to never be near her again, if this is what was destined to happen. Maybe then they wouldn't be cowering, recovering where no one can see, in the inn where Hidan tried fish, where Kakuzu began to wonder if he could still find some semblance of a good life. Good fucking riddance to that.

“We were let back in," he seethes, burning and burning with coal of hatred in his chest. "And YOU… You…!”

The grip gets tighter. Hidan hacks again, but no fighting back.

“You may have ruined everything we had.”

Bit by bit, shaky violet eyes unclench, a stutter in the reaper's throat:

“I…” he tries to explain, as best as he can, “I...tried to save her—”

A smack as Kakuzu holds him by the collar and cracks his knuckles into Hidan’s head.

“FUCK!!! Asshole, that HURTS!”

“HOW DO YOU THINK SHE FEELS?!”

And just like that, he’s awake and coherent, at the spur of a woman’s autonomy on the line. “THAT SHE HURTS! THAT’S WHY! That is WHY—!”

His punctured, mutilated chest heaves up and down, a still weary set of lungs catching breath now that it’s been injected with righteous fury. Mask over Kakuzu’s face, all you can see on him is his green, red, glittering anger. Hidan spits, blood in the saliva from somewhere in his impaled guts.

“Kakuzu…!” He needs to understand; Hidan HAS to make him understand. There HAS to be a way—! “She...she’s sick. She’s sick real bad, Kakuzu…”

Kakuzu barely has enough tact to keep the thought of “of course she is” held back from his lips. Through Hidan’s quivering, determination, as ever, overtakes his being, even when he’s bloody and cut and beat up and at the mercy of the world’s most fucked up surgeon, literally holding him together by a single thread. Through the shake eyes have in their sockets...there lies something the old man has never seen before— not in him.

A secret can't be kept any longer.

“I ask her to hurt me to stop her from hurtin’...herself.”

And something in Kakuzu clicks. Little...by little...his iron hold laxes. More...and more...until Hidan is let go. Wide-eyed for a new reason, the masked man now grips onto his own head and falls back against the wall. Hidan’s brow curls as he watches this happen, a long pause of silence until the priest's partner manages to speak again. The rage, perhaps, is gone...or at least redirected.

“...How long?” he asks.

And Hidan knows what he means, though he hesitates to tell. “...Since we got back from the desert," the answer is mumbled. Days and months and full seasons away. And he knows— he knows before Kakuzu beats him to the punch:

“Why?" And then, more urgently, confused. "Why? Why didn’t you...—?”

But he can’t finish the thought, wretched as this all is, barely under wraps like a bedsheet trying to hide a corpse. It’s the reaper’s damn responsibility. His gaze casts down in shame.

“Never felt like the right time.”

Ironic how Kakuzu heard her say the same thing just some hours ago. Finally, finally, the man pulls off his mask lest he suffocate any more, raises his gaze in search for connections and answers. “Hidan…” he mutters. Unsure what to ask next, he simply states thoughts as they come. “There’s no way she asked for this.”

Blood rusting against the stitches on his neck, his chin tilts diagonally away. “...That’s right,” he admits. “I just...told her. I told her she could. I...showed her...she can.”

“And you thought this would make her better.”

...Hidan knows an accusation when he hears one. A magenta stare flickers up to meet the challenge, though head stays meekly down; the man is contradictions, the very thing the woman admired him for. “Better,” he repeats. “...Not perfect. But...”

Kakuzu sighs. “...Better.” Against his better judgment, he understands. He understands much more, now. His skull rests against the planks of wood that make up the inn room’s wall. Heavy lungs exhale. How naive. How stupid of him. The woman he named Takara told him so clearly how her story finished. But Hidan...Hidan…

...He looks at Hidan now, cloak open and barely draped around him, hastily thrown on pants with red seeped into its cloth. On the few missions they shared...since they started to live in that house...Kakuzu had noticed the marks. They always healed so fast. But they were still there. New and fresh and already fading. It had been noted but information not made use of. What did it matter what the guy did in his own spare time? A lot, evidently.

And that is how Hidan got to see how the woman tumbled her way towards the end.

And the rag doll presses his fingertips to his forehead, the sliced headband that eternally reminds his own betrayal and loss, and closes his eyes. Now that the girl is stable and the priest has explained...the exhaustion in him begins to overtake. He needs a second...he needs a moment lest something in him break when his strength is needed most. In this break it provides, Hidan’s spirit too searches for respite; it only makes sense he looks to the thing that’s always calmed him down.

He looks to the side.

There she is.

Laid up on the bed. Kakuzu’s cloak underneath, opened up so you can see the way her chest goes up and down when she breathes. In...out... Like a zombie, he staggers forward mindlessly, without realizing he is until he's already there.

She’s just in her underwear. Used to be something clean and pale, so it wouldn’t show under her dress. It’s a shade of pink now, splotched in different depths of it, based on how long and deep the blood got to soak. He’s standing over her now, and his stare traces all the way down, top of her head...her half open eyes...and lips...neck and breasts...stomach, cunt...thigh. The skin there is angry and reddening. Normal bodies resist the healing process so much more than Hidan’s does; he can already feel the insufferable itch that comes as cells reattach, layers close back in on their own. Hers, though...it isn’t going to be so fast.

Even with Kakuzu’s mending, it’s going to hurt for a while.

Hidan takes a deep breath and feels himself bob side to side, still struggling to focus. His grasp reflexively goes for his neck, but not finding the intended target, instead combs up into his hair, providing a sensation to try and help him concentrate, stay awake. “My necklace…” he murmurs, “My damn necklace…” To pray over her. To ask for forgiveness. Lids crack open...and something is different.

She is looking back at him.

And the whole world stops.

...And he feels like the luckiest man alive.

“Look at her…” he whispers. Because he certainly does. He’s helpless but to lean in, put his hands forward in her space until, as before, they figure out what they want to do. “That’s my angel…!”

Gentle, his palm cups her cheek and Hidan begins to sink closer down. He can feel Kakuzu watching. And it isn’t that he doesn’t care, no...

He’s asking him to see.

“Look at our girl…” And for the first time, this whole time...somehow...someway...Hidan begins to smile. His knees get onto the bed and he looms over her, closing in..and in...and in...until his forehead is pressed so reverently onto hers.

“Isn’t she something…?” he asks, a tremble in his voice. All this time, he's never forgotten the first day he met, how he felt his lord Jashin place a hand on his shoulder and behold...behold the one who will change your whole life. His eyes screw back shut, and she can feel his sharp inhale, both in pain and in marvel. “Isn’t she beautiful…?!”

And she wonders if she’s dreaming, as tears fall on top of her face. Is he...? Is he really...?

“She did such a damn good job…!” a pious soul struggles, gritting his teeth, sneering his lips with effort and overwhelming, holy emotion. And Kakuzu can only watch, no idea what to make of this, no idea what— if anything— he can do. The reaper's lone confidant is begged for once again:

“Kakuzu…”

And the man's breath hitches, a witness in the corner. The Jashinist is all but a puddle, barely held up by his own scratched arms.

“It’s our girl, Kakuzu…!”

The named man remains where he stands, entirely dumbfounded. The most selfish person in the whole world is praying over her, to her, and asks him to do the same. Stitched lips part but can’t find words to speak. He watches her...as she watches him. Even half closed, the big starry eyes are so soft, so knowing. She looks then at Hidan, and Kakuzu can already tell there’s no anger in that heart at all.

She manages...her first words.

“I’m...s-...s-..." Though inevitable, they let her finish. "Sorry.”

And quivering, trembling with adoration, Hidan tells her through sobs, “...Shut up.”

The stars begin to well at the bottom of her eyes, and the ocean, drip by drip, escapes in the saltwater that falls down her face and stains onto the pillow.

He’s only being like this because he feels bad...right? Right? She remembers what he said. “I’m not...beautiful…” she corrects, barely audible at all. “You...don’t..have to…”

And with only Kakuzu and Jashin as his witness, Hidan can't take this anymore shuts her up himself. Overtop of her, in this dingy little inn, he does what he should have done from the very start. His palms hold her face...and with all the gentleness in the world…

He kisses her.

He kisses her.

He kisses her.

In…

…

Out...

The sigh of breath as he pulls back, just enough to look her in the eyes, push stray locks off of her forehead. “I don’t care anymore,” he says, only now that they’ve reached the brink, the edge of universes and fate and faith and chance. “I don’t care about that fucking book. I love you. I love you! Jashin, damn me, I—!”

He.

Kisses.

Her.

And this time as he pulls back, she finally knows how to speak. It takes a moment of furrowing her brow and thinking past both bliss and throbbing pain. “...Book…?” she repeats, dizzy with the taste of him on her lips, blood and all. His eyes narrow but his grin widens, both adoringly and spitefully.

“So you didn’t read it. That’s it.”

A gasp. Her mouth opens.

Despite himself, Kakuzu can only watch. These idiots will figure it out, after all, despite everything and themselves in their way.

“I...I don’t…” Finally, finally. “I don’t...know...how to read.”

…

A stutter.

A twitch.

And a laugh.

Hidan laughs, slamming his fist into the pillow, bitter and relieved all at once. Before she can apologize again, he sits up, winding in an inhale of air and rolling his shoulders, finally feeling like a free man.

“Babydoll…! After all this time...!”

And she can feel every inch of him shake with the next rough, roar of a laugh, as Hidan kneels over a woman who hardly believes this is happening at all.

“Angel, baby…” The word takes on a new meaning now, next to these others. She thought it was just a nickname, an extension of sorts of their relationship...and well...it was. But it was a lot more than that, too.

But it’s hard to outright call someone your love, your light, your everything when you aren’t sure what they feel back. Finally, his eyes roll back down, and he looks more like his usual, coy self...maybe even then some.

“...You could have saved us a lot of trouble.”

Us.

...Wait.

Hidan flinches, visibly shifts. His smile drops. “Wait,” he realizes. And all of a sudden, he feels so wrong. Shit...shit...! She didn't even SAY! “I— do you—?”

A woman's too stunned, stuck within dreams of the beach and heavenly touches come to life, to fill in the blanks for him. He has to ask. He has to be the one to stop assuming, and to save them some trouble. And so he swallows his pride and he begs, one word at a time:

“Do...you...love me...too?”

In the way that he loves her. Because he never figured out what she meant when she said "love" before.

And weight of his shadow on top of her, heat of his body, the sweat on his stomach...the kindness of his face…

Silly. Silly things, they are.

“Yes,” she tells him. And she swallows the ‘but’. “Yes,” she promises him, no backing down. “Yes,” she exclaims, in spite of everything in her telling a woman that she doesn’t deserve it.

And, savoring every inch of it, Hidan comes down and kisses her yet again. Her eyes close, and it still doesn't seem real.

She does not see as Hidan turns his head to look at Kakuzu...not only acknowledge him but beckon him here. The stitched man’s jaw drops; he had thought his fun, the little bit of delight, was all over. Even if Takara was willing to share, Hidan wouldn’t.

Oh how wrong he was.

“Look at our girl,” Hidan tells him again, a cock of his head used to gesture, soon as Kakuzu stands at the foot of the bed. “Isn’t she somethin’?”

And she is. Kakuzu feels himself losing his breath, the twitch in his hands and the blood rushing in his veins. He sees what is happening—

“Hidan,” he mutters. “Be careful.” No, indeed, no rage at all, not even a bit. “She’s still hurt. She’s still scared.” The reaper snorts, giving a lopsided smirk.

“But you fixed us up so nice…!” the silver-haired demon coos, and as he combs into her locks again, the woman’s eyes open. He smiles at her, so very devilishly, longingly. There's no stopping him and Kakuzu can tell. Another secret has to be told:

“She’s never kissed before.”

...

...

Hidan rolls his shoulders and looks back; the lust in his eyes is not reserved just for one, and Kakuzu wears a target on his forehead. Fuck. “...And how do you know that, you old bastard?”

That shuts Kakuzu up right quick.

“You make it to her before me?" the younger man retorts, relentless. "Kakuzu...I’m hurt!” And before she can mumble a sincere apology, Hidan presses a thumb onto the lips of this conversation's subject. “Well...baby,” he turns to ask her now...and all of a sudden she's noticing him stripping off a cloak of black and red clouds. “You ever fucked?”

And of course she hasn’t.

He knows she hasn’t.

Couldn’t have if he was the first person she saw nude. And he’s looking right. At. Her.

"Then I get to be the first at something else."

All of a sudden she remembers how naked she is. That and the glimmer in her eyes makes Hidan so very, very excited.

“I’ll be the first to make you cum, baby.”

A gasp and her heart pounds so heard it hurts. Hidan continues, pinning her down with hooded purple irises as he talks it out to Kakuzu, lest he ruin the moment, make her even more scared.

“I promise...I promise I’ll be gentle... We'll talk it out and nothin' happens she doesn't want..." The tongue that sips blood comes out, swirling slowly over his lips. "And ain’t gonna touch that cute little garter you put on her pretty leg...no matter how much I wanna.”

She looks down. The stitches of her wound do look like a garter. Pulsating pain or not...it…— Oh shit. It took all this for her to realize what is about to happen.

...Just as Hidan places one knee...over the other side of her pelvis...and begins to straddle. That's what it takes.

“Lost your tongue, eh angel…?” he leans in close. His nose rests into her neck. “Then do what you do best…” he instructs her. “Sing to me instead. The first one. The one you said in the woods about prayin’. I wanna make you feel that way...”

So even since back then, not even a full day. That’s all it took for lonely Hidan to change his mind about whether or not she’s pretty. She swallows, and worries try to resurface and explain.

“I...I’ve never…”

“She’s scared.” Kakuzu repeats himself in interruption, and suddenly he’s so much closer, too. Hidan opens one eye and glances up to his partner, daring.

“Then help me show her,” he says. “Help me show her she doesn’t need to be.”

And then the rag doll and his duckling lock eyes. Her lips part with nothing to say but disbelief, sighs and grunts and gasps. She looks so innocent...is so innocent...but as Kakuzu sees the bob in her throat to swallow again...as she sighs...as she begs with eyes alone…

...He just needs to be sure and actually ask. No more assuming. Not this time, especially not when they're her first.

“Do you want me? Us…?”

The line between reality and fantasy blurring is the only thing that holds her back. She looks at them, two men as different as night and day… She went from having the worst day of her life to...to...this…! She’s dreaming. She has to be dreaming.

...And if that’s the case...

Then...

Then there will be no regrets.

Then she can say...yes.

The permission is mouthed and that’s all it takes. The world's most hellish want a bite of heaven. Hidan dips in first.

The man eases into it, trying to keep advice in mind, trying to go slow, starting at her forehead...then her mouth...over the length of her neck, down to her breast. She stutters...and that's when the woman catches as Kakuzu gets onto the bed, easily residing the little free space left. That gorgeous brown hair of his is free, dreadfully long and brushes the top of his muscular bust. A glance of admiration— or perhaps, rather, amusement— and a big hand tenderly takes one much smaller. The man at first just holds it, noting how soft, how selfish he is to know it at all, then raises it next to her head, pinning it by the wrist as he begins to bend down.

“You can say stop at any time,” he reminds, behind her ear in the low voice that sends tingles down her spine. But why on earth would she do that, she thinks, when she's longed for so long? “You’re in control here.”

But is she? How can she be when she is being touched, caressed, held by two men she’s wanted so desperately all this time? She’s going to lose control entirely...but she can appreciate what he means by that.

“Just...don’t...touch my leg…” She’s already whimpering; they’re going to have to draw this out, lest it end so soon. Kakuzu nods, his silky hair bobbing with the motion. He picks her hand back up and traces it onto his stitches...over his chest...down his stomach.

“Do you like this?” half sincere, half teasing. “Don’t flatter me for its own sake.” Of course she nods. And on her own, to answer that question, her hand moves further down.

For someone who hasn’t handled a man’s cock before, she’s damn good at it.

The stiffness already forming firms even more, Kakuzu so hard underneath his attire, coddled in her touch. How many times has he touched himself, imagining something like this? In the bath, getting undressed...one hand balancing himself against the wall while the other pulls?

Maybe as much as Hidan has. Maybe as much as she has.

As Kakuzu moans, so does Hidan. “Angel…” he praises, a palm over her other tit with his mouth takes a break from the first. Not even sex can keep this bastard from talking, though she doesn't mind, not at all. His words just make it all the more incredible. “Look at us, angel. Two of the biggest and baddest and you’re gonna make us cum in our pants like it’s nothing… What a good girl, eh…?”

And he raises up, if only to watch the cute expression she makes as he squeezes, sees the give of flesh between his fingers. The bra just gets in the way.

“Let’s get that nonsense off…”

A flick from his pocket and she’s set free. Kakuzu hums in satisfaction. “Damn kunai...good for something after all…” All the same, he watches the woman for a reaction, just in case it’s too much, being reminded of the weapon. A bit of a glint in her eye, a vocalization of startle—

Hidan catches on first. It’s thrown to the side, far away from where the blade can touch her again. Doesn't need it anymore. “Rest I’m gonna do myself," he says. "Gonna make the old man watch. Can you do that, girlie? Come on...show us how wet we make ya... I'm sure you are...!”

The strap of her underwear is pulled down, and it confirms how right he is. A big, big grin stretches in satisfaction. With that, there's only one question left:

“How do you want it, angel?”

…

It takes a moment for her to realize what that means.

“Face up? Face down? Me? Him? Both of us?” So quick he goes back on his word, his desire to tease the partner he wants so much to beat. Just the sight of the mounds of Venus and all a man wants is to get her off. Choices given, they both give her time to collect, to coherently choose. With some reluctance, Kakuzu takes her hand off his crotch, and Hidan lifts himself up by the palms to get a good read on her face. Sweet little thing...already so hot and bothered. She really hasn’t fucked before. If there was any doubt before, certainly isn’t now…

The woman looks at them both, two men radiant with adoration and lust after holding it in for so long, no outlet for it until everything fell into place. A perfect storm. Surely they want to get inside her...and she nearly asks for this—

...But.

But.

She is still afraid. Even if a little. Even if only because she does not yet know her own body quite so well as they may. And so, despite how much she wants to give, it has to be okay if she takes, instead. Surely they won't mind.

“T-t-touch me,” she pleads under her lost breath, words she’s held back for so long. “P-p-please…!”

And she’ll be touched with hands and mouths as hungry as they are vicious.

Darker lips hold onto hers, matching palms taking their turn massaging nipples and feeling her moan into his mouth, letting her feel the moan from it, too. Her legs are spread open as a man tastes the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of tracing his tongue around. In between kisses, she sings as requested, even if soft, even if broken up, even if hardly said at all. Even if it feels a little bit silly. It's all that they asked for, so it's what she's got to give. She begs of them:

Take me to church

Waves of her are ridden, unintentional bucking of hips. Her breath quickens...and raises...and loudens... Until she’s begging, until the sound of her crying and screaming in pain is far, far away. Now, it is ecstasy.

Kakuzu holds her hand as she grips tight, and he pulls away just enough to see the look on her face for what comes next.

A moan.

A clench.

...And with her lovely, lovely voice...a release.

Hidan looks up at her, magenta eyes hooded and something thicker than saliva dripping from his lips. A drop of blood is staining into the rest of the liquid. Just as the story started, the girl gets her finish with a reminder of Jashin, of the blessings he bestows. He laps it up, long and slow to savor the taste. To show her how good it is to be in his position.

But a good girl still needs a break before it’s the old man’s turn.

She gets to soak in the hot spring and watch as Hidan decides to finish, next, what she had started, holding his partner's dick like that, getting him nice and hard with nowhere to go. She holds around Kakuzu as he pulsates and moans, and he stretches one arm and pulls her in to brace himself. She whispers to him that it's okay, she likes him holding her tight. The rag doll, with that permission leans his full weight, cheek pressed against her head as he uses his other hand to grip Hidan by the hair as he so wonderfully sucks him dry. Kakuzu worships no god, but he can see the appeal in having a goddess. A goddess and her dutiful priest with a big mouth to shut up.

He can at least understand now...what makes someone worship something outside of themselves.

An exhale and the woman is there to feel his entire body relax. Silver locks drip as they emerge from the surface, a lingering kiss on Kakuzu's jaw and Hidan inhales deep, catching his breath, and wraps around him and his angel, legs and arms and all. His nose finds home in the other side of her, so she is so warmly, snugly flanked by two S-rank missing-nins who will never let her go.

Three of the undead, three who by fate...or luck...or whatever the hell makes life work...ending up like this, together. Fucked up, fucking, and fucked. Sensations unending at least until it’s time to go, lest the others wonder where they ran off to.

But not just yet.

If anyone asks, though? They have two zombies to get through. That assurance alone...helps their treasure feel safe.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Oh, good God, let me give you my life

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[personalpagan]

Duality of the Jötnar:

Ymir: Nothing, and Everything. The result of worlds colliding, creating the first being. Ymir came from a world of nothingness. He was one of the sole figures that came from Ginnungagap. That nothingness eventually became occupied by the dismembered parts of his body, after having been torn apart by the Aesir. Ymir went from occupying the Great Nothingness, to being everything that surrounds us: the mountains, the water, the clouds. 

Angrboda: The Giver of life, and the Taker of life. One of the foremost Jötuns, and the bearer of some of the other Gods. Angrboda descends from a violent tribe in myth, the Jötuns being notoriously troublesome, particularly for humans and the Aesir themselves. Blood often coats their hands, stains their teeth. Known life-takers. Yet, Angrboda has birthed many of the great Jötuns. From her, we have been given other beings of Duality. Their lives, their power, would not have come to being without her creation.

Jörmungandr: The Beginning and the End. The circular World Snake, who, in most depictions, has bitten his own tail. Serpents are given a bad rep in Christian interpretations of the myths, seen as destructive—bringers of (Christian-inspired, most likely) Ragnarök. But, it is well documented that our far ancestors revered Serpents, and recognized their relationship with life and death. Odin himself needed to take the shape of a snake to travel the Worlds. Their power was immense, and deeply spiritual. Jörmungandr can be interpreted as the World's Beginning and End, wrapped around our Realm in a never-ending coil, his head, the beginning, his tail, the end.

Fenrir: The Antagonist, and the Protagonist. Once a wolf-pup, the very thing that mankind so loves. Our faithful friends, dogs have long since been one of our greatest allies. Wolves are protectors, powerful, and with fur that is soft to the touch. But Fenrir grew too large, too powerful, and the Aesir began to fear him. Fear, as the myth portrays, can make people do bad things. Fenrir is chained, a sword forced into his jaws. A once faithful friend to a prisoner. Circling back to Ragnarök, Fenrir is set loose, seeking his revenge on the people who had ensnared him, having been made into the villain. 

Hel: Life and Death. Quite obvious, this one. Half her body is that of a rotting corpse—the state in which every living thing will eventually embody. The other half is a beautiful maiden, reflecting that of a woman in the prime of her life. Hel is the keeper of the Realm of the Dead, the one who we can presume to meet one day. Hel, the Realm, in myth, is a mirror-like reflection of what lies here—life seems to continue on as usual, though this time alongside our Ancestors. The Queen of Hel keeps things in order, keeping the Dead as such, and the living out. 

Skadi: Calm and Rage. The Goddess of Winter. If you have experienced the falling of snow, then you will know the quiet of it. The World seems to go silent as the flakes fall, the wind has died down, the animals are hidden away from the cold, no birds to be heard. Nature seems to settle in, and silence settles onto those who will listen. A prime time for hunting, particularly deer, known for their demure ways. Skadi occupies this land, treads the freshly fallen snow in silence, waiting for the right time to loose one of her arrows. But Skadi also knows rage, for that of her slain father. She storms into the home of the Aesir themselves, boots stomping, voice loud, demanding to be heard. A consuming force that doesn’t let you rest until the matter is settled. Only once appeased may the snow fall calmly again.

(A/N: Just a little thing I wanted to write. I've been doing my studying and meditating and was thinking about the Jötnar Tribe. UPG, I would like to clarify. Your experience with them might be entirely different :). )

[1stunseeliefaelass]

Horsemen Reptile/Amphibian/Arachnid Pet Owners:

This is just me wanting to have a bit of fun speculation for funsies as a reptile owner myself and someone who grew up around these animals as long as I've been alive. So what would each Horseman get as a pet or pets if they were to get into the reptile/amphibian/arachnid hobby.

You hadn't been to a reptile show since the apocalypse happened. In truth many of the species you loved as a kid were struggling to stay around past potential extinction. Others however actually managed to thrive despite everything happening. So when you heard that your fellow humans were hosting a show once again, things finally began to feel somewhat like normal again. It was also high time for your scaly puppy to have food again as you'd run out of your bulk.

Since you have nothing better to do than that, you decide to make the most of this. Especially given how long it's been, and you finally have friends to share your hobby with. Finally some folks who don't think reptiles and such are gross or inheritly evil. Death takes some convincing, given his homebody nature when not working. But eventually decides to join along, if only to make sure you stick to your shopping list and don't buy anything out of budget or anything living. Just the one 'danger noodle' as you keep calling your royal python is enough he feels(Yes he does call ball pythons by the original name and even knows why they're called royal pythons.). Strife needed no convincing at all and was happy to come and see what these mythical 'reptile shows' were. That and he's an animal lover so he's as excited as little kids are to see them all. Fury only came so you'd stop asking, supposedly. Deep down though, she's curious about the animals that have captured your heart so. She initially plans to ask questions about any that peak her interest or yours. War is convinced well enough after your explain just how big some of these python species can get. Course he's not believing you because, "I've seen much bigger snakes than a simple reticulated or indian python.". So he's coming just so he can prove you wrong.

So what does everyone buy?

Y/N - Well thanks to Death’s mostly hypervigilant self, you avoid buying any new critters. Just frozen rats to feed your scaly puppy at home. That doesn't stop you from taking photos of War posing with pythons and boas, and Strife holding everything he comes across if he's allowed to. Fury and Death were hard to nail in any photos. But eventually you do get one of each quietly. One has Fury interacting with a baby hognose that played dead in her hand as she called it a drama queen. The other has Death handling a tarantula, something you're admittedly still afraid to do. It was a beautiful sapphire gooty female that was somehow there. You immediately fled the scene right after the picture, not because Death caught you, but because the spider decided to showcase the speed demon side all indian ornamental species are known for. Getting a good chuckle out of the old Horseman who luckily was definitely fast enough to keep the little lady from 'chasing you'.

Death - He decides on buying the sapphire gooty, as their extreme rarity gave him a sort of kinship kind of feeling towards her. That and the unintentional jumpscare she gave you might've given him some ideas. He gets at least two other species as well. A goliath bird eater because he enjoys her spunk seeing as she actually stridulated at him when he picked up her container. The final tarantula he takes is a gorgeous antilles pinktoe. The colors were just way too eye-catching to him, and her temperament was a plus too. The last animal he grabs isn't even an arachnid though, as he actually finds someone selling venomous animals and is attracted to a black female king cobra. You at first ask if he's crazy, then notice she's blind. Upon asking, Death and you are told she's a rescue and was devenomed. Naturally you explain the term to Death, who is horrified at knowing. He can't forget about her and ultimately buys her. Promising he'll give her a much happier life. Good thing humans these days will take gilt as well as cash. Cus he definitely has that in surplus. Naturally he buys enclosures/food for his new critters and the ones his siblings inevitably buy. He of course also names his little ladies. The GS is named Princess(yes he is serious about the name), the goliath is named Ungoliant, and the pinktoe is dubbed Tanzanite. Meanwhile he calls the cobra Queenie.

Strife - Strife avoids the tarantulas like the plague, and other arachnids to his older brother's amusement. He explains Death and War have pranked him with these animals before. Though Death insists he never used anything living to do it. Didn't want them to be needlessly hurt in the panic after all. Strife does however fall in absolute love with ball pythons and geckos. He ultimately leaves the show with a crested gecko, leechie gecko(which to Death’s shock and annoyance cost near a grand in human US currency), & a banana mimosa ball python. The crestie he calls Nutter Butter(Nutter or Nut for short), the leechie he names Chonker, and the BM ball python he names Glowstick because she looks like a rave glowstick to him with all her bright colors.

Fury - Fury takes interest in an axolotl surprisingly, claiming she finds the empty headed creature to be amusing. In reality it's derpiness is more endearing than funny. She also takes the baby hognose from before, as well as a sand boa for the same reasons as the axolotl. Her naming conventions are not terribly creative but at least carry a common theme, she names the hognose Death after her brother until he begs her to change it to Stinky(She thought referencing Death’s avg stink to the stinks hognoses make while playing dead was hilarious for the record.). The sand boa she simply calls Sandy, and soon takes the name very seriously. The last name she picks for the axolotl is Doofus(a secret reference towards Strife that he somehow misses). She never admits it around others, but she adores her little critters.

War - War is a simple man with simple enjoyments admittedly. He takes interest in the bigger animals. He decides on buying a baby anaconda with the intent to grow it into the biggest one the world has ever seen. He also snags a tegu, since they seem hardy and fun. Plus he did like how the one he got is very dog-like for a monitor lizard. He also gets a leechie like Strife does after the latter convinces him to get one for breeding purposes so they make more like Chonker. War names his critters thusly; Amazon for the anaconda, Dog for the tegu(because he acts like a dog and he couldn’t think of anything else), and his leechie gets called Chonkette after Strife suggested it when War couldn’t think of anything. At first he regretted it, now he finds it suits his 'Big Girl' well. Amazon also gets the nickname of 'Big Mama' after the group discovers eggs in her cage about a month later.

The house has gotten so much fuller, but everyone is happy and caring for their respective pets properly. Including you obviously, who War also promised could have first dibs on Amazon and Chonkette's future babies.

[heedra]

alright, i am not as knowledgeable as you, if you've the time mx. lydia, could you tell us everything wrong in the "damn bitch you love animals like this meme" ? :)

OP of that post probably has the best info on their reasons behind what they included but here's what I know about each issue.

-Wild animals kept as pets (fennec foxes and servals in picture): Exotic wild animals of this kind can be 'tamed' but are not truly domesticated. It is extremely difficult to keep them happy and enriched in captivity and it's pretty much definitionally impossible to do while treating them as household pets- its a having your cake and eating it too situation. Many people on social media keep exotic mammals as housepets under the guise of 'wild animal rescue', when those two sorts of animal husbandry are incompatible.

-Snake racks (those shelves in the back): Many snake breeders keep their snakes in 'racks', which are basically flat shelves with not a lot of vertical space, under the assumption that, as reptiles, they don't actually need a lot of habitat complexity to be comfortable. Such a space really limits the snakes' ability to move around and satisfy their natural behaviors; they may meet the bare minimum needed to keep an animal alive and healthy, but are by no means a sufficient habitat for a properly enriched animal.

-Spider morph python: There are some color morphs in the reptile breeding community that come with a huge amount of health issues for the animal; the 'spider morph' in ball pythons is closely linked to a neurological condition known as 'wobble' syndrome, which severely impacts the snakes ability to hold their heads and bodies steady when moving, eating, or drinking, something that can have fatal consequences and is just generally miserable for the animal to live through. These morphs are still bred for, regardless, because of the appeal of the markings to many collectors.

-Taxidermied bats: Due to their nocturnal behavior and how fragile their bodies are, it is EXCEEDINGLY hard to find an intact dead bat in nature by happenstance. Like, find a needle in a haystack rare. As a result, almost all taxidermied bats on the market are purposefully killed and hunted for the sake of taxidermy, not ethically found and preserved. The market is pretty unregulated right now, and it's wreaking havoc on bat populations in certain regions; New Zealand in particular.

-Feathers, nautilus shell, coral: Similar story to the bats. The wings and feathers in this image are from birds protected by the Migratory Bird Treaty act; it is illegal to harvest these feathers in the wild (in the U.S., at least), and finding sources where you can guarantee they've been legally and ethically harvested is difficult. The demand for nautilus shell and coral for decor and collections has contributed meaningfully to the decline of wild populations.

[guardianofwonder]

Many influences come together to make my Nicolas Nicolas.

“It was said that he once defeated an entire regiment of calvary with a bent steak knife-while he was eating.” - William Joyce

“He’s a wild man,” Ramsey says. “An adventurer, a warrior, a dynamic force. A big guy who takes over every room. He has two gigantic swords. He kicks down doors. The core idea was, what would a guy who can fly around the world in one night be like? He had to do this with sheer force of will. So we wrapped that dynamo around a guy who loves making toys, whose whole existence is bringing generosity to the world.”

INFLUENCES: Slavic myth, Norse myth, Christian myth, Violent Night, William Joyce’s The Guardians of Childhood and The Man in the Moon, Rise of the Guardians (2012), historical connections to Santa Claus, this amazing webpage outlining information about Veles, & the Rankin/Bass Claymation films.

My Nicolas is very inspired by Nicholas St. North, but the idea of him also being the Slavic god Veles was so interesting to me: I wondered what would come of the muse if I combined them?

NAME: Veles, Nicolas. 

ALIAS: Nicholas St. North, Santa Claus, Saint Nicholas, St. Nick, Kris Kringle, Odin, Wodan, Welnos, Volos, Saint Blaise, The Devil, St. Nicholas the Wonderworker, Sinterklaas, Krampus, Father Christmas, any & every name for Santa Claus.

TITLES: The Guardian of Wonder, the Spirit of Generosity, The Greatest Thief & Bandit Who Ever Lived, The Cossack, Toymaker.

AGE: Indetermined. Very old. Jokes that he’s seen the beginning of time.

GOD OF: fertility, boundaries, order, mischief, magic, invention, cattle, water, earth, the underworld, the dead, music, wealth, trickery, forests, oath-keeping & treaties, retribution, farming, vengeance, psychic ability, the hunt, power, & poetry.

SPIRIT OF: generosity, nature, & invention.

GUARDIAN OF: wonder.

WEAPON: two swords & a spear.

SACRED ANIMALS: bear, wolf, snake, dragon, owl, any farm animals & black birds.

ASSISTANTS: yeti, Leshy, reindeer, & elves.

DOMAIN: Nav/Nawia (The North Pole). In Winter, Nav/Nawia changes from a forest and farmlands to the North Pole, and returns back to its forest-y appearance when Spring arrives.

ABILITIES: shapeshifting (into a dragon or bear or other animal under his domain), using snowglobes to transport himself + others, master swordsmanship, the power of wonder, master craftsman, master inventor, master magician, master toymaker, the gift of the silvertongue (can communicate with all beings + can articulate clearly), 

STRONGEST ABILITY: The Power of Wonder. North has an ability to find the wonder in everything around him which helps him in his creation of toys and inventions. It also boosts his faith in others and resolve, and helps him be jolly and a little childish but gives him a unique insight. His shapeshifting ability is an extension of his Power of Wonder.

APPEARANCE FC: David Harbour in Violent Night (during Winter).

Eric Balfour from Haven (all other seasons).

VOICE FC: Adam Baldwin in Rise of the Guardians.

EYE COLOR: blue, crystal blue.

HAIR COLOR: always has black eyebrows.

white + long, curly hair and beard (during Winter).

dark + short cropped (all other seasons).

red (as Kris Kringle).

CLOTHING: Black fur hat, a long red coat with black trim, black boots, black sheepskin pants, and thick, black gloves (in Winter).

Hawaiian shirt + jeans with tennis shoes and white socks (all other seasons.)

HEIGHT: 6'6".

WEIGHT: 270 lbs.

BODY SHAPE: Big boy. It’s cuffin’ season. Chunky but also muscular.

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: When appearing as Nicolas, he has tattoos on either arm featuring Naughty + Nice, all sorts of Celtic + Slavic symbols on his torso, arms, and back. Right on the center of his chest + ribs is his Veles snake. Blue eyes, no matter the form. 

If he reveals his true form, as Veles, he will have golden antlers protruding from his long, brown, & curly hair.

NATIONALITY: N/A. Appears Slavic, as that is one of his favorite places, Nicolas has an indistinct Slavic accent that can sound very Russian at times.

GENDER: Masculine. Uses he/him.

SEXUALITY + ROMANTIC IDENTITY: Bisexual and demiromantic.

MORALITY: Chaotic Good.

PERSONALITY: Nicolas is a warrior with a heart of gold. Fierce, demanding and impulsive, everything about him is larger than life. For him, nothing is impossible as long as he believes in it. He is inventive and witty, sarcastic and curious, and immensely willful. He will do whatever he can to save others. He is also fearless, mysterious, caring, and full of wonder.

BIOGRAPHY: Veles had been alive for what feels like all of Time, guarding the border between Yav (the mortal world) and Nav (the underworld). When his worship + power started to wane due to Christianity’s influence across all of the world, and his reputation was tarnished as the Devil, the Man in the Moon offered Veles a new job: become the Guardian of Wonder.

He took the name Nicolas, and decided to embody an aspect of himself that he enjoyed a great deal: Santa Claus.

Nav became the North Pole, its fertile fields turning to snow-encapsulated tundra when Winter struck. No mortal can dare enter the North Pole, not without special permission.

Souls who pass under the Slavic banner end up residing in Nav for all of eternity, and when Nav turns into the North Pole, those who live within Nav can volunteer to help with Santa’s duties, or opt to just enjoy the wintery aspect of the realm. Those who are favored by Nicolas can become Santa’s Helpers, and he sends them all throughout the mortal world to act in his stead.

Leshys patrol the space, so no souls leave without permission. Elves assist in toymaking. The Yeti assist in overseeing all functions within Nav, and act as managers, while also covering all other duties that the others fail at.

Every December 24th, he delivers gifts to good children and leaves coal for naughty children. He has also been known to still deliver to adults.

Using his Globe of Belief, Nicolas makes sure that the children of the world believe in the Guardians. Whenever crises arrive, Nicolas is there, blades at the ready, spear strapped to his back, and is ready to kick a w ho-ho-ho le lot of ass.

[ellewrites-stuff]

Old Man Jim

The smooth trunks of the gum trees stretch toward the cloudless sky. It unsettles me. I always used to think that the dimpling where the trunk split into branches made it look like folds of skin. I look away. I keep walking.

Birds cluck, twitter, squawk, warble. I hear them but can’t see them. One shoots out of the tree-line. It begins pecking away at an old streetlight’s dead bulb. One of its fellows deftly perches on top, watching. There’s an exchange of sorts, a melodic chatter, and they both flit off into the trees.

On one side of me, the trees stretch into a sea of bushland, penned in by a rusting chain link fence. On the other, sputtering cars spew fumes onto the freeway. My foot lands awkwardly in a dip in the earth. I stumble. Dandelions poke up from the muddy patch of grass around me, like swimmers surfacing for air. Among the marshy greens and browns they look like little suns.

The sun beats down on the back of my neck. Sweat prickles on my skin. A honking horn startles me into alertness and I right myself and continue on my way. I don’t normally walk this slowly. I prefer speed, to be able to hear my own ragged breathing and the sound of my heartbeat.

They say Old Man Jim lived in this patch of bushland. In a little hut, near the shooting range. I remember getting told the story as a kid, crouched behind one of those old wooden buildings that had been abandoned to nature. Kids went out there, sometimes, for barbecues or running races, and ran around and played in little patches of clearing while their parents sat in fold out camping chairs and gossiped. That was when I heard the story for the first time.

“They say you can still find his hut,” one of the kids told me. “That his car’s parked out here somewhere.”

I held the piece of clay shrapnel I’d found close to my chest. Collecting the remains of clay targets the shooting range used was also a pastime of area children. The black ones were the rarest, because those were the ones that had been out here the longest time.

“Where’d he go?” I’d asked.

“Hell, if I know. But that’s not the good bit,” the kid said.

“What’s the good bit?” I dutifully responded.

“He left a ton of treasure behind. Buried in under his hut. And we’re going to find it.”

We snuck away from our parents, who we knew would disapprove of our treasure-hunting and ran laughing into the bush. The trek was longer than our child minds had anticipated. Looking back on it, it was laughably stupid and dangerous. The bone-dry leaves carpeting the ground were the perfect fire starter for an eager spark, and it was the middle of bushfire season. The waist-high grass was the ideal hiding place for an irritable brown-snake. Not to mention the dirt roads that snaked in between the patches of bushland were frequented by cars barrelling along, unprepared for a pack of children to leap out from the roadside trees.

After some time, my tiny eight-year-old legs had begun to hurt, and I begged my companions to turn back, or at least to take a rest break. I was harangued into continuing. Finally, as the sun began its descent toward the horizon, and the sky was stained blood-orange, we came upon a hut.

It squatted in between two thick-trunked gum trees, covered in dried out leaves and animal droppings. A branch had fallen from one of the trees, and onto the hut’s roof. Its drooping leaves hung low over the eaves.

“That’s it,” I heard the kid who’d told the story, who had become our de facto leader, say. “That’s Old Man Jim’s hut.”

We crept toward it, at any moment poised to flee. But nothing happened, and so when we reached the termite-chewed front door, our leader raised his fist and knocked, loudly and clearly, three times.

When no response came, we cracked open the door. It swung inward and out of our grasping hands with a long, low creak and slammed into the adjacent wall with a loud thunk.

Inside the hut was bare. A single wooden table occupied the far left corner. Spiders, the fat, venomous kind, watched us from the gossamer webs they’d spun in the roof’s empty rafters. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust and when we walked our shoes left little child-sized footprints.

“Old Man Jim?” our leader called. “You there, Old Man Jim?”

The hut remained silent.

I took a step and stumbled, my shoe catching on an uneven piece of flooring. I glanced down. One of the floorboards stuck out above the rest, like it had been partially prised away. I beckoned the other kids over to look. Upon examination it was decided that this was where Old Man Jim had hidden his treasure, and all we had to do was yank the floorboard away and we’d find it.

We used a sturdy branch we found outside as a lever and, inch by inch, jimmied the floorboard out. One the hole had been opened up, we got one of the littlest kids to shove his head inside and have a peer around.

“Can’t see much,” his muffled voice admitted. “Any of youse got a torch?”

We all shook our heads.

“Hey!” the kid called out suddenly. “I think I can see something-”

There was a moment of silence, then the tremendous thump of the kid’s shoulders slamming into the floor, as though something had grabbed onto his head and tugged. Someone started screaming then I did too, and the thump sounded again and again, the yanking incessant, all the while the kid’s fists pounded at the floorboards.

“Lemme go!” he yelled. “Lemme go!”

But I wasn’t brave enough to stick around and see what happened. I did the first smart thing I’d done all day and got the hell out of there and ran crying through the bush until I saw the wavering campfire light and the silhouettes of fold out chairs.

I don’t know what happened to the kid. I think he might have died in that hut.

I keep walking for some time until I reach a break in the fence, the place where the cars come into the bushland from the freeway. The bush smells damp with a trace of something sharp. Eucalyptus bark, I reckon. The edge of the dirt road crumbles away under my boot when I step on it. It’s an old road. Older than me by far.

The walk through the bushland is quiet. A lone bird lets out a plaintive cry. Wind rustles the tree branches.

The sky’s a clear, cornflower blue. Distantly, colourful dots, hot air balloons, are born upward. They send them up, sometimes, from the nearby air strip. I always used to wish I could hide away in one of those wicker baskets and float up into the clouds. Maybe, once I leave here, I’ll finally fly away.

At the sound of the crunch of gravel I turn and look down the road behind me. A car is trundling along, kicking dust up under the tires, leaving a billowing cloud in its wake. It’s a ute, a Ford, big and blocky, with a faded blue paint job. It looks out of place in the brown, dry bushland.  It draws to a stop beside me. The driver winds down the passenger window and leans across.

He’s old, with a face like creased parchment paper and a wiry, white beard, like a bushie Santa Claus. He smiles with the stained teeth of a smoker.

“Hey kid,” he croaks. “You headed down by the old shooting range?”

I nod.

He jerks a thumb at his back seat. “You need a ride?”

I hesitate, but only for a moment. I glide my thumb over the butcher’s knife I’ve got stowed away in my coat pocket and nod again. Revenge is a sin, I know that, but so is killing kids. Old Man Jim better gird his loins.

The passenger door swings open, and I climb inside.

“Thanks,” I tell the old man.

He shrugs and jerks the key in the ignition. The car starts up with a sputter. “Don’t worry about it. It’s getting dark out, anyway. It gets dangerous down in this bush in the dark.”

He grins, his face scrunching up. His wrinkles look like the deep cracks you see in drought ridden earth. His creased eyes are a bright blue, the kind you don’t really see in old people. My teen years were peppered by sporadic visits to my Nana’s retirement home, and my strongest memory is of the grey: grey hair, grey eyes, greying skin. The man’s eyes are mountain stream blue, summer-sky blue, flax lily blue. His pupils are pin-pricks.  I wonder who he is. I’d rather die than ask. 

“Sure,” I say passively. The car hits a branch. It cracks against the bumper.

The trees whip by, a brown-green blur. In the distance, I see a kangaroo bounding away. Sometimes they leap out of the trees onto roads, in front of cars. My mum was always paranoid we’d hit one and our car would cop damage. She made me look at the window and yell out if I saw one. Not today, apparently. We round a corner, and the kangaroo disappears.

I glance out of the corner of my eye at the old man. He’s still grinning, wryly, like he’s in on some joke that I’m not privy to. I shift away from him, pressing my left side against the passenger seat door. I trace one hand over the door handle, the other hovering over the concealed knife.

The ute pulls off the road into a little piece of clearing, a wide, dry dust bowl in amongst the gum trees. The old man grunts, and gestures for me to get out.

“Here we are,” he says. “You’ll have to walk from here. Road just loops round and goes back the other way.”

I ease open the door and step down onto the road. My boot sinks into the sandy dirt. “Thanks again.”

The old man smiles his unnerving, stained smile, and silently slams the passenger door shut. I hear the shudder of the car starting up and the ute jerks forward and rolls off down the road, disappearing around a corner and behind the trees.

It’s starting to get cool. The setting sun sends deep purple shadows stretching along the ground. Everything is dipped in lukewarm shades of blue, the grass, the tree trunks, the gum leaves. Everything except for the brilliant orange sky.

A kookaburra cackles in the distance.

It’s quiet, in the bush, other than the crunch of dead leaves and twigs under my footfalls, and the occasional cry of a wild animal. I check the ground each time I take a step, with almost paranoid fervour. My childhood dog was killed by a snake that none of us saw in the long grass.

I retrieve a torch from my bag, switch it on and keep watching.

The grass swishes around my legs, parting for me like the Red Sea. No snakes around here, it seems, or if there are they’ve slithered away from my thundering footfalls. Gum trees swim out of the darkness at me, ghostly trunks, slender and smooth. The knots in the trunk stare at me with wooden pupils, in eerie synchrony with the glittering eyes sat up in the treetops reflecting the torchlight.

It’s quiet now, except for the creepy-crawly noises of bugs going about their business. Cicadas whine like spoiled toddlers. A dumb buzzing fly bumps clumsily into me. It’s almost worse, I think, than if something were chasing me. At least then I’d know to run.

Then, in the distance, I can see a hut, squatting between two thick-trunked gum trees, like it had been all those years ago.

It’s unchanged. Maybe a few more layers of leaves have gathered on the roof and clogged up the gutters. It’s still standing, termite chewed, dung-covered and dilapidated as ever. The empty windows observe me apathetically. The door still hangs ajar.

“Old Man Jim?” I call out. “You there, Old Man Jim?”

The hut regards me with contempt. There’s nothing in its lopsided windows other than dust and spider-webs.

I take a step forward and force myself to keep moving. At night, the shadows inside the hut are darker than ink. Anything could be in there. But I push open the hut’s door, and listen to the rusted hinges squeal high-pitched, like a pig, as it swings open. My fingers find the butcher knife’s handle, and I step forward, across the doorway’s threshold.

“Are you in there, Old Man Jim?” I call again. Somewhere outside the hut, a magpie warbles from a tree.

The hut is silent. The butcher’s knife feels pathetic in my shaking hands. Did I really think it would be any use against the old bastard? I knew I should have tried to get a gun licence before coming back out here. I take a step. The floorboard gives a little, under my boot, wood gone soft and rotten from the damp.

There’s a spot in the middle of the floor where part of the floor is prised away and the boards around it are caved in and splintered. It’s a gap about as big as a child’s head and shoulders. Bile rises in my throat. I bear the knife and grit my teeth.

“Chi-cken,” I say, in a childish sing song.

Maybe, if Old Man Jim is here, he’s just bones under the floorboards. Maybe the kid snagged his shirt on a nail and struggled to break free until he suffocated. Or maybe there’s something in this hut, or out there in the bush, watching me with beady, crinkled eyes.

I case the cabin, find nothing, head out back. A Ford ute’s parked, badly, bumper rammed up into a tree trunk. It was probably painted a nice colour, once, but its faded to muddy, rusted brown. The front door’s been ripped off. The windshield’s shattered.

“Old Man Jim?” I call, my voice cracking a little. The ute looks horribly familiar.

The sun’s dipping toward the horizon. The sky’s the same blood orange it was when I first met him.

I don’t see him. Just hear the rustle of something under the floor, the movement of something down in the dirt that you can’t see. Like the birds in the trees, only bigger. Much bigger. The floor creaks, and something thumps. Then it thumps against, closer. Maybe I imagine it, but I think I see eyes, down there. Unnatural, mountain-stream, summer-sky, flax-lily flower blue eyes with pin-prick pupils. Watching, waiting for me to step closer.  Peering up at me, from a wryly grinning face; smoke-stained teeth in a Santa Claus beard.

There’s ragged breathing, down in that child-sized hole in the floor.

I drop the butcher’s knife. I don’t know what he is. I hope for all of our sake that he’s only a dead man who stuck around longer than he should have.

I do the smart thing, and I get the hell out of there. 

[whitmerule]

This is a thing in Australia too. There's a complicated set of licensing laws (mostly specific to each state/territory) governing what you can do with living or dead native animal of various classes.

This is important for the reasons given above, but also leads to some interesting and entertaining contradictions!

Eg:

I belong to an Australian taxidemy / skeletising / general Preserve The Dead Body Or Bones In Interesting Ways group on facebook. It's not a hobby of mine but I find it interesting to watch, and they are all very careful about local wildlife regulations, including when it comes to trading the results of their efforts - eg, whether or not one can send the articulated skeleton of a native snake across state lines, or send someone else a dead kangaroo joey to be preserved. (please note that all these animals have died of natural causes, they're not being killed just to be added to someone's collection!)

Most of our natives require a wildlife licence of some kind or another to keep them in captivity, or as a pet. There are some animals, especially birds, for whom exceptions are made - mostly because there were enough of them being kept in captivity already before these regulations were a thing! Think budgerigars and cockatiels. One interesting inclusion is princess parrots - a parrot from the arid regions of central Australia, whose conservation status is 'threatened' (or was last time I checked), but which has been thriving in aviculture for some time. I've kept several of them and they require no licence to keep.

... however. Being Australian natives, they are still subject to state laws about keeping and preserving (and especially selling) their remains. I may keep a PP, but I may not give the body of my deceased pet to any friend from that facebook group to preserve it. Technically I could be in trouble if I pulled feathers from the wing of the corpse before disposing of it. (If anybody's going to check.)

....

....... ok so actually

As a matter of fact I did do this, and gave them to my local avian vet - because PP wing primaries are very similar in shape and structure to those of local rosellas, so they're valuable for the rare occasions when a vet needs to perform a procedure known as 'imping': that is, replacing the broken or lost primaries in a bird's wing with those of a bird of similar size and flight habits. Basically, prosthetics!

realistically nobody is going to come after me (or my vet) for that but technically the law's there, so they can pursue people for trading in live or dead animals if they need to.

Seeing people shoot raptors in other countries is fucking wild to me because we have a whole system of super strict laws governing how you can handle an individual FEATHER off of an eagle, and it doesn't have to even be a dead eagle. One can molt and you can find it on the ground and if you're caught with it the warden will fuck your entire life. What do you mean people are out there shooting them to protect a fucking pheasant. A pheasant??? That thing I have to avoid running over approximately 459 times any time I leave a major highway???

[nationmckinleyscorset]

Does anyone else keep a list in their phone of everything they've ever watched including content warnings? No? Well, here's mine. It's super helpful cos if my friend's ask what I've been watching lately I just send them this. Enjoy the recommendations.

13 reasons why - blood, sexual assault, suicide (graphic in Clay's nightmares), rumours

47 metres down - blood

Alleluja! The Devil's Carnival - blood, religion

All of us are dead - blood

Anastasia

And then there were none - suicide, murder, blood

Annie

Annie 2014

Back to life - blood, murder, abusive man

Bambi - 😭

Beautiful thing the play - homophobia, abusive man

Beetlejuice - blood, implied suicide

Beetlejuice the musical - blood

Birdbox - suicide, blood

Bo Burnham comedy

Brave

Carrie - religion, abuse, blood

Charlie and the chocolate factory (original & Timmy boy's)

Chicago

Cinderella

Cinderella (live action)

Clue - blood

Corpse bride

Cruella

Dark crystal

Detroit become human (game) - blood, abusive man

Do revenge - drugs, cringe

Drag me to hell - afghhhagagha. Vomiting bugs, blood, religion

Dr Who

Dumbo

Dumbo (Tim Burton)

Easy A

Encanto

Endless night - blood, SA, the paradoxical sleep girl's wrists, suicide. GRAPHIC suicide.

Ella Enchanted

Enchanted

Ever after high

Everybody's talking about Jamie

Everybody's talking about Jamie musical

Fall - blood, falling, getting eaten by birds

Fifty shades of grey

Fifty shades darker - flogging

Fifty shades freed

Frasier

Freaky friday

F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

Gavin and Stacey

Ghosts

Girl, interrupted - blood

Great expectations

Greys anatomy - blood

H2O

Heathers

Heathers the musical

Hedda - implied suicide and murder, suicide

Holy grail - blood

Horrible histories - blood, vomit, basically anything disgusting you can think of

Hugo

Hunted

I am mother - blood

Ice age

I'm not ok with this - blood

Into the woods

It follows

Jo Koy comedy

Jumanji

Jumanji welcome to the jungle

Jumanji the next level

Katherine Ryan comedy

K-12 - blood

Keeping Faith - blood, drugs, 2nd season is meh, 3rd season is shit

Knives out - blood, suicide, drugs, vomit

Labyrinth - David Bowie's crotch

Liar liar

Life of Brian - blood, religion, full frontal nudity

Mako mermaids - David's cunt of a brother

Maleficent

Maze runner

Miranda

Miss Peregrin's home for peculiar children

Metamorphosis the play

Moana

Motherland - vomiting child

Moulin Rouge - blood

Mrs Doubtfire

Murder mystery

Nine lives

Oliver!

Orange is the new black - blood, religion

Outlaws - drugs

Oz the great and powerful

Paddington

Paddington 2

Panic

Passengers

Phantom of the opera

Phantom of the paradise - blood, cracked

Pirates of the Caribbean - blood (not much)

Queens of mystery - blue balls from this fucking Raven storyline

Reefer madness - blood, drugs, cannibalism, abusive man

Repo! The genetic opera - blood, dissection

Red Riding hood - blood

Red rose - blood, suicide

Rocky horror 2015

RuPaul's drag race (specifically s12)

Russian Doll - blood, suicide

Sarah Millican comedy

Six

Shock treatment

Shock treatment commentary

Snowpiercer - blood, torture, murder, suicide

Squid game - blood

Squid game challenge - gagging

Tangled

Terminator

The addams family - so. Much. Blood. Lmao

The boy in the striped pajamas

The craft - SA, attempted suicide

The end of the fucking world - blood, SA

The darkest minds

The day after tomorrow - blood, natural disasters

The Devil's Carnival - blood

The golden compass

The greatest showman

The human centipede - blood. DO. NOT. WATCH.

The hunger games

The hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes - bombs

The hunger games catching fire

The hunger games mockingjay 1

The hunger games mockingjay 2

Thelma & Louise - rape, murder, suicide, blood

The lost boys - blood

The mask

The nightmare before Christmas

The purge TV series - I have no words. SA, blood, cult

The school of good and evil - blood

The sound of music - nazis

The rocky horror picture show - blood

The tourist

TORCHWOOD - slime, cannibalism, paedophilia

Tracy Beaker

Tracy Beaker returns

Traitors

Tuck everlasting

TWD video game - blood

The walking dead - blood

Waitress - whispering, SA

Wednesday - blood

White chicks - blood

[thecritterguy]

Keep your pet birds safe with Skunk Removal In Ontario

Living on a small lot, we have all kinds of adventures. My least favorite adventure is dealing with our egg-loving skunks. Chickens are precious to us and deserve protection. What's the best way to catch a skunk? Or even better, how do you try to look out for skunk removal in your area?

We at The Critter Guys like to use live traps baited with food that the skunk can't resist. Ideal baits for skunks include eggs, crispy bacon, cat food, chicken or turkey, canned tuna or sardines, peanut butter on bread, marshmallows, or highly flavored fatty meat products.

We like to lure live traps with eggs. Because that's what attracted them to our house in the first place. The last skunk we caught dug up a dead chicken and several weeks-dead baby rabbits from our little animal graveyard. smelly thing.

In this post, we discuss how to protect chicks and eggs from predators and how to capture and safely dispose of skunks with live traps. Fortify your homestead to reduce lure and predator access.

One of the best ways to protect your chickens and eggs from skunks and other predators is to reinforce your chicken coop. Reserve your time and resources to avoid affecting any chicken predators that may be in your area, including skunks, raccoons, dogs, weasels, rats, foxes, coyotes, minks, snakes, and birds of prey.

These are steps we have taken to keep our birds safe. 1. Insect proof bird house We've made several different nest boxes over the years, but my favorite is the Best Nest Box. The eggs roll out from underneath the hen and wait until they are collected in predator-proof trays. Eggs are always clean. Best of all, there's nothing wrong with chickens developing the bad habit of eating their own eggs. Best Nest Boxes can be configured to collect eggs from the front or back. We designed our chicken coop in such a way that we collect our eggs from an outside pantry so we don't have to go into the coop to collect them. I love this setup! 2. High bar No matter how many bars a chick has access to, it will fight for the highest position. It's the safest place to be, so naturally, you do that. You can help your chickens feel safer by giving them a chance to perch on a high perch. 3. Keep the chicken coop closed at night Closing the coop at night is a bit of a hassle, but your birds can sleep knowing they're safe until morning. You can purchase automatic coop doors that automatically release chicks in the morning and retract them at night. This is another level of bird protection. know your enemy. Okay, skunks are not my enemies. They are unwelcome uninvited guests on my property. A better understanding of the skunk will allow you to safely hold and move the creature without getting hurt or splashed. Skunks may not be as obedient as domestic cats, but they can make quite interesting pets as well.

In domestic skunks, the mercaptan-secreting odor glands are surgically removed. Once a pet skunk is always a pet skunk. They have no way to survive in the wild without smelly weapons.

Skunks are nocturnal but tend to be active and hunt during the morning and evening hours. This usually means your chickens can roam safely during the day. Winter months may be an exception as skunks do not hibernate and may be more active during the day. Thus, you need to look out for a sunk removal service in Ontario.

[omg-snakes]

I was under the impression that corn snakes are rat snakes, and therefore are the same species. But the talk about a hybrid between them has confused me a bit. Are corn snakes rat snakes or a different species?

Hey friend!

So okay, yes, corn snakes are rat snakes. Rat snakes, however, are not a single species but many distinct genera of colubrid snakes!

Let's back up a second and talk taxonomy. Humans love love love sorting and classifying things. We simply adore grouping by color and size, giving different things different names, and ranking in general! Sorting and separating is not always a good thing when it leads to some things (or people) being classified as "good" or "bad" or "better," but in scientific context sorting and naming helps us to better understand our natural world.

There's a problem with naming things, though. Different groups of people tend to give distinct things similar names. Like if a group of folks on the North American continent see a snake eating a rat, they might call it a rat snake. Another group of folks wandering around in Southeast Asia see a totally different and unrelated snake that is eating a rat and they call their snake a rat snake also. So now we've got two rat snakes. Are they the same species? Do they have the same habits, size, genetic composition, etc.? When you say "rat snake" which one are you talking about?? This is why scientific names are important.

To unify scientific research and communication, we have developed the basic classifications of living things: Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, Species. There are also sub groups of these groups but we try to keep it simple when we can!

The most basic unit, species, refers to a group of organisms in which any two individuals of appropriate mating types can produce fertile offspring. Species are given a two-part binomial name, sort of like the first and last names that humans often use to describe ourselves and our relationships to others. Scientific names are in Latin, which is a dead language that nobody uses anymore so it's not changing as living languages do. The first part of a binomial name is the genus, which describes the generic group to which a living thing belongs. Genera are capitalized. The second part, the species, is a specific epithet that applies to those organisms within the genus that are more like each other than other members of the genus. Species are not capitalized. Usually, members of a species will only mate and produce fertile offspring with other members of their same species. This is often because they are geographically or behaviorally separated from members of other closely-related species. Is this a perfect system? No. We're still learning every day and taxonomic organizations are revised and updated constantly!

Back to the corn snake/rat snake thing, here's the scientific classification for corn snakes:

Kingdom: Animalia - multicellular, eukaryotic organisms that consume organic material and breathe oxygen

Phylum: Chordata - animals with a notochord (aka: OG backbone)

Class: Reptilia - all reptiles except birds

Order: Squamata - scaled reptiles including lizards and snakes

Suborder: Serpentes - snakes!

Family: Colubridae - "typical" snakes, kind of a wastebasket taxon of snake that aren't special enough to put in their own family. :( Rat snakes are in here!

Tribe: Lampropeltini - colubrid snakes of North and South America

Genus: Pantherophis - nonvenomous snakes endemic to North America

Species: guttatus - corn snake

As you can see from the above, when we talk about "rat snakes" we're referring to a bunch of "typical" snakes in Family Colubridae that span the continents of North and South America and Asia.

To put that in context: You, a human bean, are in Family Hominidae, which includes the great apes including orangutans, gorillas, chimpanzees, and humans.

Some more closely-related species, such as those in the same tribe, can reproduce and result in offspring. Corn snakes can hybridize with many other snake genera in Tribe Lampropeltini including Pituophis (gopher, pine, and bullsnakes) and Lampropeltis (king snakes), as well as other species of Pantherophis including Texas and Everglades rat snakes. Some of these resulting offspring will even be fertile to a degree!

Sooooooo the TL;DR is that corn snakes are considered rat snakes, yes, but rat snakes are not a single species or even a single genera, but instead a blanket term that applies to a huge variety of both closely- and distantly-related snakes that live across the globe and all, by coincidence, sometimes eat rats.

[missbrunettebarbie]

Has anyone tried to sort the characters from The Winx or the Barbie Movies ?

I assume you mean the original Winx Club and I am afraid I don't remember that enough to try and sort it. Buut I did a rewatch of (the more interesting) Barbie movies and with the help of @the-phoenix-heart @starry-sky-stuff @laufire here are the Babries we’ve sorted:

1. Clara (Barbie in the Nutcracker)- Lion Snake. The movie focuses a lot on Clara's dreams and goals. Her Snake is a bit more hidden, but she has the same quiet Snake secondary energy kids that grew up in controlling/abusive households tend to develop. Plus remember when she had to save Eric she straight up lied to the guards?

2. Rapunzel (Barbie as Rapunzel)- Double Bird; the brush is such a Bird sec tool and she has that Bird primary vibe. Not to mention this shows that you can have The (Mad) Scientist sorting with artists too 

3. Odette (Barbie in Swan Lake)-Badger Lion. Her secondary is a bit burned in the begining but she gets better. Badger because of how much she cares about literally everyone, from people to mythical animals.

4. Annelisse (Barbie in the Princess and the Pauper)- Snake Bird. Her People are her mom -for whom she might have developed a bit of a Lion model- and Julian and what other secondary would collect and classify rocks for fun?

5. Erika (Barbie in the Princess and the Pauper)- Snake Lion. She ~bonds with Annelisse which is the only reason why she goes along with Julian’s plan -her only other Person is her cat xD- and I will say Lion secondary because she is clearly Improvisional and so snippy to her employer

6. Elina (Barbie: Fairytopia series) - Double Badger. "For the friends you haven’t met” is such a Badger primary say and the only thing to get Elina out of her trance in the first movie. I hesitated between Lion and Courtier Badger but the last two movies made me choose the latter.

7. Teenage Barbie (Barbie Diaries) - Lion Badger. To quote Phoenix: “ People pleaser with dreams of being popular and a news anchor is a total Lion Badger ”

8. Genevieve (Barbie in the 12 dancing princesses) -Badger Bird. She is the one that is always willing to lend a hand and who keeps her mom's traditions alive. And she always go for logical solutions (dad is sick, call the doctor), makes the plan to defeat Rowena in the end AND when Rowena attacks her she defends herself using the fan skills she learned from the duchess herself :DD. Not to mention that she seems the most capable to rule out of all the sisters so The King sorting fits her well

9. Ro (Barbie as The Island Princess)- Bird Badger. We see her caretake in the very first minutes of the movie with Tika or how she chases away the crocodiles. I chose her primary mostly by elimination, but I think it’s fitting for a girl who has an entire song with lyrics that start with “why” and wears a peacock dress. Symbolism much xDD. Not to mentionBird Badger is The Survivor and Ro sure is one.

10. Mariposa (Barbie: Mariposa) - Lion Bird She's clearly an Intuitive primary abd the way she's carving adventure and visiting far-away places made me settle on Lion. Also it might be me, but the sentence "I don't know what's worse, failing or admiting it to people who believed in me?" sounds veeery Lion primary. She loves reading books, and uses the knowledge she gathers from them to accomplish her goal which is a very Bird secondary MO.

11. Liana (Barbie and the Diamond Castle) - Double Snake. Her Snake secondary is easy to spot: she tricks Slyder with switching the mirrors, she gets her and Alex to play music at the restaurant for a meal. It's obvious Liana is a Loyalist and for the longest time I thought she was a Badger, but a Badger would not have been happy living alone just with Alexa in their small cottage. Also, her very betrayed speech to Melody after Alexa leaves her is so Snake to me xD

12. Eden Starling (Barbie in A Christmas Carol). Snake Lion. Her primary is burned at the start of the movie and yet we can still see how she is loyal to both her dead aunt and her cat. The entire movie is about her unburning and it is cathartic to watch. Lion secondary because she is abrasive at the best of times and at the end she relies on grand gestures to make ammends.

13. Thumbelina (Barbie presents: Thumbelina)- Lion Bird. She's an inventor so the Bird is obvious. Her dedication to save her home, her adventurous spirit, and her confrontational attitude with Mackena all scream Lion primary to me.

14. Corrine (Barbie in The Three Musketeers) - Double Lion. Could the girl who lifted the ban on female Musketeers be anything else but The Revolutionary? Corrine is a dauntless improviser and very stubborn. She starts as a bit of an immature Lion who wants to fight for glory and has to learn to fight for what's right.

15. Merliah (Barbie on a Mermaid Tale)- Lion Snake. Another immaure Glory Hound Lion who learns to embrace her role as princess. I considered Lion secondary, but I am pretty sure her rival/co-protagonist in the second movie-Kylie- is one. And while they are similar, Kylie is much more direct and abrasive which makes me think Merliah is a Snake who loves to live in neutral. She's certanly charming enough to be one.

16. Actress!Barbie (Barbie in a Fashion Fairytale+Fairy Secret)- Badger Snake. She's an Exterior primary that's very affected by what the world thinks. Also note that when she wants to get away she does not go to a completely unknown place like her friends suggest, but to her aunt's fashion house because that's where she feels safe. Her determination to save both the fashion house and then Ken felt almost Lion secondary at times, but I think she's a Snake: she is an actress, the interaction with the crazy director in Fashion Fairytale points to Fluid secondary and The Advisor seems to pretty much sum up her role in the first movie.

17. Blair (Barbie in Princess Charm School)- Snake Badger. Probably the Snakiest Snake primary Barbie as everything she does is for her mom and sister. She's a hard worker as proven by both her job as a waitress than by the way she has to practice to do well in the charm school.

18. Kristyn (Barbie in the Pink Shoes)- Bird Snake. The Artist probably fits this ballerina best. She's an Improviser as the whole movie proves, yet has no Lion bone in her body. Also her glee at getting to play -not just dance the part, actually be- Giselle and Odette points to Snake secondary. Bird primary becauss when she's stuck in the plays her system automatically shifts to integrate the rules of the world she is in, no matter how crazy they are.

19. Lumina (Barbie: Pearl Princess) - Bird Badger. She craves adventure and it's most likely an External primary but has no sense of community the way Badgers do. Badger secondary because of how enthusiastic she was to have a job just because she got to work.

20. Alexa (Babrie and The Secret Door)- Bird Lion. All her daydreaming and escapist fantasies made me think Bird primary. I chose burned Lion secondary because in a lot of ways, Alexa reminded me of well, me.

21. Starlight!Barbie (Barbie: Starlight Adventure)- Badger Lion. She cares about people and animals a lot and well, she is an hoverboarder and a daredevil.

ETA: 22. Annika (Barbie and The Magic of Pegasus) - Lion Snake. Her sneaking out plus her Oedypuss style deception points to Snake secondary. Her rebllious and passionate nature as well as her determination point to Lion primary.

Wow, this was not easy. But also fun :D

[tgon]

The Nightmare Room #9, Camp Nowhere | Review

Title: The Nightmare Room #9 – Camp Nowhere

Author: R.L. Stine

Cover Artist: Vince Natale

INTRODUCTION

30th US President Calvin Coolidge would stow pickles and munch on them around the White House. It’s been said that he was the first “President To Just Be Two Kids Stacked On Top Of Each Other” president. Everyone has their quirks. R.L. Stine’s quirk is writing good camp stories. Maybe we can set aside our doubts and let the nostalgia of summers-gone-by whisk us away. Go ahead. Set down your bags.

A summery breeze shoots past, warming the trees, carrying the sweet smell of sap along for the ride. Sounds of nature fill your head. Water laps at a lake’s edge, birds chitter away, a lonely bee bumbles along. A counselor jotted down your name when you arrived, but the ink hasn’t even dried yet. Camp. It’s a place for developing minds, new friendships, one or two “Ernest” films, and sometimes terror.* Hang on to your friendship bracelets, camper. The story is about to begin.

*Actual terror may vary.

STORY REVIEW

Everyone at Camp Hawkwood thinks Russel is a wimp. And they’re right. When he tries to disprove his wimpery it only makes things worse. He attempts to save a counselor’s dog, but (long story) he gets knocked off a cliff by snakes. Ouch, my scariest summercamp memory is when I ate gummy worms until I threw up.

All senior campers get an opportunity to canoe down Forbidden Falls. Adding to the terror, Counselor Ramos reveals that he won’t be able to canoe alongside the kids and will have to watch from the sidelines. It makes no difference to Russel. He already decided to be the bravest camper to traverse the Falls. This includes worrying himself so bad he gets nightmares.

When the big day comes, Forbidden Falls turns out to be a dud, not scary at all. Russel and his friends decide they’ll get revenge on Ramos for playing up the terror. They settle on a classic prank, the old “Make An Adult Think We’re Dead” routine.

The kids all flip their canoes to stage a wreck (hilarity!) and wait to see their counselor’s reaction. Things go haywire when the kids realize they’re lost. The entire area looks unfamiliar, and their footprints from earlier have vanished. Russel uses the footprints as a poetic metaphor for a higher power, but his peers are unreceptive.

Night falls. The kids hunker down as best they can. Russel and his friends Charlotte and Erin spot a light in the distance. Into the night with Charlotte Sometimes the group goes. They discover a place called Camp Evergreen. It’s odd for many reasons. The phones don’t work; the campers watch black and white movies; most disturbing, they don’t know who Michael Jordan is (that sneaker logo guy).

A camper named Drew warns Russel and his friends that they’re in grave danger. Unfortunately, “Drew the Schmoo” has an embarrassing nickname so he’s immediately discredited, especially as a political candidate. Russel begins to heed the warning once he discovers that the other campers have locked Drew in a shed, and making people angry is a universal sign of rightness. They don’t lock irrational people in sheds now do they?

The Hawkwood campers set Drew free and run until they’re caught by Camp Evergreen. The lead counselor explains that his camp is super cursed, and it does not get more sensitive to Native Americans beyond this point. Native spirits destroyed Camp Evergreen years ago for trespassing. These aren’t unreasonable destroyer spirits, though. They grant the campers two days a year to come back as ghosts so long as they’re respectful of the land and keep their existence a secret. The lead counselor tried to get three days a year, but Spirit Court disfavors mortal men.

Drew goes beserk and lights a cabin on fire. If the forrest burns, the ghosts will be destroyed and probably lose their deposit. Cooler heads prevail when Russel puts out the blaze. Promising to keep Camp Evergreen a secret, the living kids are allowed to leave. While sprinting into the woods, they discover the real (and terrifying) Forbidden Falls. I should clarify that ���discover” is code for “fall headfirst into.”

Doom seems inevitable for the kids tumbling ungently down the stream until they’re lifted up by unseen hands. Up. Up into the air. A ghostly voice thanks Russel for stopping the fire, and the kids are set down at Camp Deusexmachina. Russel brags to every Hawkwood kid about how easy Forbidden Falls was.

THE VERDICT

Abrupt ending aside, this book executes its small(ish) concept well. It’s sensitive with the main character. Regrettably less sensitive with the mysticism. Credit where it’s due, Stine resisted his urge to name this book Camp Tipacanoe.

9th US President William Henry Harrison was nicknamed Old Tippecanoe. His presidency had an abrupt ending when he died after a month in office. Four years is a long time. Tasteless segue aside, I’ve been reviewing this series for nearly four years, and I’m only nine books in. I’m going through these numbers slower than Nevada goes through votes, which’d be topical if I wrote this back in November 2020. It’s not so dreary, though. Just keep going and see where it gets you. Harrison considered himself retired prior to his election, so being president for a month was a cherry on top.

BEST QUOTE(S)

“But what if it’s a UFO?” David asked. “What if aliens from another planet are secretly landing in the woods, and they zap anyone who disturbs them?” “But they might have food!” Marty exclaimed. “Yeah. Let’s check it out!” David said.

The camp spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.

David shouted. “Remember what the counselors told us? About the snake caves?” [...] “That’s just another camp legend,” Marty said.

Snake caves. Yet another thing made up by greeting card companies. Much like Boss’s Day or Saint Valentine.

[aminiatureworld]

Etched Words

Characters: Xiao x gn!reader

Word Count: 2,920

Warnings: None

Premise: He'd long given up the idea. No one should be stuck with him, and fate would never be so kind to do so, no so cruel to punish someone in such a way. And yet you'd appeared, and now he didn't know what to do.

In which the reader’s familiarity is written on Xiao’s sleeve.

Author’s Note: Originally wasn’t going to write this tonight since I was afraid of how long this was going to be but oops. I love soulmate AUs, they’re probably the fic that I make up in my head the most, there’s just so much potential for it.

Xiao I’m sorry I’ve neglected a oneshot for you for so long, hope you forgive me and hope everyone who reads this enjoys!

Xiao would never admit the real reason that he was determined to wear a sleeve around one of his arms. Part of it was tradition, he’d worn it since Rex Lapis had first commanded him to fight, and even if those days of war were long forgotten to most the memories still burned bright to him. He couldn’t bring himself to completely lose that legacy, even in terms of what he wore. To those who knew him that was assumed to be the only reason; but every once in a while, when he was perhaps feeling weak enough, Xiao would lift up his sleeve to read the words snaking across his forearm.

What a lovely little bird, don’t you think? Those words haunted him, tearing apart his thoughts for certain lengths of time, filling his head with a sense of resentment and melancholy.

The last thing Xiao wanted was a soulmate. Soulmates were something destined for humans, those who could live life ducking most of its horrors, those who could feel passionately and indulge in the feeling of love without sorrow or guilt. Most important of all humans would never have to experience the feeling of losing one’s soulmate forever, and living on for millennia afterword with only memory and regret to keep them company. It was a curse to give an immortal being a soulmate, especially one such as Xiao, who battled every day with the chains of his past, with the acts he’d committed and the darkness he’d almost fallen into. No one, mortal or immortal, deserved a soulmate such as he, and Xiao for his part thought he didn’t deserve such a curse. Let him deal with his affairs alone, he didn’t want a punishment like this.

Besides, Xiao had long ago come to the conclusion that he was never to meet his soulmate. So long had it been since those words had been etched onto his skin that he was sure they must’ve been the mutterings of someone who’d long passed him by, or someone who’d never managed to say those words at all. After all, being destined to fall in love with someone wasn’t a guarantee that one would live that long, and fate could be so easily twisted and bent. Yes, his soulmate must be long dead. Perhaps they’d been a worshipper of long ago, or perhaps they’d been nothing at all. Perhaps they’d died in one of the wars in which the yaksha had participated in and perhaps they’d lived to a ripe old age, never once uttering that phrase which haunted him. Either way they were dead and gone, and Xiao didn’t want the reminder of that. He certainly didn’t want others to know, to look down upon him with pity.

So he kept it hidden, and though the words sometimes haunted him at least he had the certainty that they would never be spoken in his presence. Even if a small part of him doubted, and hoped for a miracle.

------

There was a new guest and the Wangshu Inn, and one that was most likely going to be staying for a while. Or so Xiao heard that morning as Verr Goldet checked on the breakfast and made the rounds. He liked Goldet, respected her for her ethic and her wry sense of humor, even if he loathed it being turned upon himself. She was intensely practical in nature, and always had a sense of what was important and what was ultimately not. So the mention of a new and mysterious guest stuck with him the whole day, and though he spent most of his time away from the Inn, he couldn’t help but turn Goldet’s words over in his mind, wondering if they would truly turn out as important as she made them seem.

It had been a busy day for Xiao, as Liyue was still reeling from its attempted destruction and negotiations between the adepti and the Qixing were long and arduous. The meal afterwards was even more so and if it weren’t for the traveler Xiao most likely wouldn’t’ve attended in the first place. By the time he made his way back to his usual spot on the balcony of the Inn he was tired and irritable, so much so that he only noticed he wasn’t invisible when you spoke after him, and after that he was too far gone to really register that fact.

“What a lovely little bird, don’t you think?” You were leaning on the railing, staring up at a nightingale, who was chirping away. “They’re so cute aren’t they, and they have such a classical sort of call. It’s really so peaceful.” You sighed for a moment, a sigh of contentment, and once more focused your gaze back to Xiao, smiling a slightly embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry the familiarity, I don’t believe I’ve met you yet.”

It was more of a question than a statement, but at that point Xiao could barely process what you’d just said, and the question itself was lost in the swirl of emotions he felt. Disbelief and shock were the primary emotions, for who could imagine you were real and not a figment of his imagination, but there were other emotions too; longing, frustration, fear, guilt. They all mingled together, reminding him of why he’d both longed for a moment like this and wished for it never to come. And now it was here, here and all too much. Letting out a gasp of breath that meant nothing at all Xiao vanished into the night, cheeks burning with shame as a part of him cried out that he’d just made the greatest mistake of his life.

At first Xiao had planned to avoid the Inn completely, to wait until he knew you were gone and then try to get back the semblance of normalcy that had been completely destroyed. He quickly realized however that it would be impossible to do so. The Inn had become a sort of refuge for Xiao, a familiar place where he could listen to the soft sounds of humanity in the evening and of the wilderness at night, where he didn’t have to worry about sudden changes in weather or running into treasure hoarders or monsters. Besides he’d underestimated the power of meeting one’s soulmate. And by the next morning Xiao was sure that he was going to finally drive himself to insanity if he didn’t go back and see you.

Not that you were there when he returned, for the sun was up and you’d already packed your things, going off to do whatever you did in the daytime. The hours stretched on and on for Xiao, but he attempted to busy himself by walking along the familiar valleys of Jueyun Karst, the familiar atmosphere grounding him as best it could while his mind spun this way and that.

You were real. You were alive and you had spoken to him and you were real. If the feeling of wanting to know you had suddenly appeared then so too had the feeling of overwhelming loneliness, a sudden realization of how dreary, how heavy all the years of his life had been. Xiao had acquaintances, allies, even friends, but those bonds had faded long ago, made weak by death or war or even the long peace that existed now. Even if he was grateful for the peace, he knew that it had made him lonely; all the adepti stayed within their domains and Rex Lapis had disappeared into the city, a place Xiao could never imagine dwelling in. There were humans of course, pilgrims, thieves, the curious mixing with the pious, mixing with the lost. But they were separate from him, and he had long ago developed a total disinterest in regards to most of their requests. He protected Liyue, not the interests of its citizens. And even if he had wished to mingle with them he knew that it would most likely bring them only despair, as curses clung to him and no matter how much he tried he’d never be able to exorcise them.

And yet you were human. Only now the thought truly cemented itself in Xiao’s mind. You were human, of course you were human. Fate would never be so kind as to simply drop you at his doorsteps, smiling and willing to talk and immortal on top of it; no you’d been born mortal, and in that fact Xiao saw only ruin. He might very well destroy you, for though he’d not truly spent enough time with mortals to see the long term effects of his karma might be, he could hardly imagine it to be pleasant. Even if he didn’t kill you time would. And then where would he be? If he already felt somewhat attached to you now, how would he feel then, after you’d truly gotten to know one another? The idea terrified Xiao so completely that for a moment he felt as if he was drowning. You were human. Why were you human.

Despite this Xiao couldn’t help but feel some sense of relief, even happiness, when you appeared on the balcony again that evening. You leaned against the railing for a bit, but eventually grew tired and went inside. Xiao’s disappointment however was negated when you came back, a chair in one hand a book in the other. Sitting down you opened the book on your lap, but instead of reading it you stared out into the night. And, eventually, you began to speak.

“The innkeeper tells me that what happened yesterday was normal. I’m so sorry I scared you in that way, or perhaps that I approached you so casually. I hadn’t realized you were an adeptus you see, although perhaps that was a stupid mistake on my part, as you hardly seem like a normal person. I’m sorry either way. She also told me that you were often up here in the evenings, so hopefully I’m not talking to myself.” You let out an embarrassed sort of laugh, Xiao loved nothing so much as your laugh in that moment, before continuing. “I don’t know if I’m talking to myself right now, but I do have something for you. I found it on my way here, and though it’s probably common enough here I thought it was pretty. I hope you like it.”

The next day nothing had moved from where you’d left it, and to your disappointment the Qingxin had gotten utterly soaked in the morning rain.

Xiao knew he should say something, knew that it was incredibly rude to leave your gift untouched. But he couldn’t help it, couldn’t break down the walls that he’d built up for so long. Not that he could completely stay away either. It’d become a routine of some sorts, to come back to the Inn each night and listen to you speak. You were always there, even when the heat became near unbearable or when you came back so late that it was closer to sunrise than sunset. Even then you still spared at least ten minutes to talk into the dark. Xiao wasn’t sure why you were doing so, although he somewhat suspected Goldet in the matter, nor could he tell why you were waiting for him, being hardly versed in the idea of soulmates and unsure whether you’d realized it or not. Regardless of how or why, the tradition still continued, Xiao silent, you filling said silence with words or laughter or sighs. And at least once a week there was a gift. Though Xiao never touched it and eventually Goldet would come and collect it or it would scatter in the wind.

“I have an idea!” Your voice was filled with excitement today and, as if to match it, you’d abandoned the chair, instead bouncing up and down slightly on your toes as you stared out into the sky. “I’m going to do something for you tomorrow, okay. So be sure not to come back until after sunset, or it won’t be a surprise.”

At first Xiao had been completely set on ruining your surprise, after all he disliked being thrown off guard, and you were hardly close enough an acquaintance for him to consider making an exception. The knowledge that the latter half of his reasoning was completely his fault however managed to keep him away, though he stubbornly refused to come back until a half an hour after sunset.

The balcony was the same as ever, and at first Xiao wondered if you’d hadn’t given up on whatever you’d been scheming. However he quickly became aware of what the surprise was when you came into view, a slightly bashful smile on your face and a plate of Almond Tofu in your lap instead of the usual book or weapon when it needed cleaning.

For once Xiao didn’t think about how Goldet had definitely tipped you off, or how he shouldn’t talk to you, or how you were so oddly persistent. He felt his invisibility fall off of him, as if he’d shed a coat or a second skin. Footsteps causing the wood to creak slightly he watched as you jumped for a moment, having obviously been daydreaming, before smiling widely.

“I’ve heard you like Almond Tofu!” You smiled, reaching the plate out towards the yaksha. Silently taking it Xiao stepped back a bit. You did nothing in response to the gesture, merely sitting there, hands folded in your lap and face full of anticipation.

The dish tasted wonderful, perfectly sweet and melty it seemed somewhat distinct, although why Xiao couldn’t really tell. Eating piece after piece he savored the flavor, for it’d really been quite a long time since he’d been offered Almond Tofu, and whether it was your cooking style or the fact you were the chef he couldn’t help but feel as this batch had come out better than the rest. Xiao couldn’t help himself. Looking up at you he let out a soft smile.

“I’m glad you like it!” You exclaimed, face bright with triumph. Standing up you walked slowly over towards Xiao, hand once more reaching out to take the plate. Instead of letting you take it however Xiao walked into the Inn and placed it on the nearest table. Coming out onto the balcony once more he crossed his arms.

“If you stay close to me you’ll die.”

This, instead of having any sort of negative effect on you, instead caused your eyes to widen, and your smile with it. Bouncing up and down once more you giggled slightly.

“So it really is you.” And, before Xiao could say anything, you turned around, hiking up the sleeve on one of your shoulders. Xiao didn’t need to lean in to make out the spidery lettering that trailed down towards your forearm. He wasn’t surprised in what he saw. If you stay close to me you’ll die.

Honestly, what does one do in a situation like this? Xiao couldn’t tell, having so long abandoned hope of something like this happening. Yet even while his mind reeled once more from the confirmation his legs didn’t. Stepping softly towards you, slightly weary, he reached out and traced the letters on the back of your shoulder, as if trying to convince himself it was real.

“May I see yours?” You said, turning around suddenly. Although your question was direct your tone had somewhat softened, and a slight blush dusted you cheeks. Nodding Xiao lifted up his sleeve, and your fingers ghosted over your words in turn. “I never knew what to think of those words, once I become aware of them,” you smiled softly, “but I’m so glad now I’ve found out.”

“They’re true.” Xiao spoke firmly, fear at the forefront of his thoughts. “You don’t know my past, my burden. Fate hasn’t been kind to you, and I might very well kill you.”

“I’ve read about your supposed curses.” You replied, leaning towards him slightly despite his words. “But you said ‘might very well’ not definitely. And besides,” you shrugged, “I want to trust in fate.”

“Why?” Xiao let out a bitter laugh. “Fate is hardly kind.”

“I don’t know, it brought me to my soulmate after all. If fate were so cruel, surely it would never do such a thing.”

“You’re acting reckless.” The words might’ve been a rebuke but Xiao couldn’t find it in him to be harsh. How much he’d underestimated what it’d be like to meet one’s soulmate. Well, he’d never do so again.

“Perhaps, but I’d like to stay and get to know you better regardless.” You stared at him, eyes both somehow piercing and soft. They were beautiful, your eyes, Xiao could drown in them and hardly notice.

“Very well.” Perhaps not the kindness of concessions, but nevertheless you smiled. Pausing for a moment you reached up and wrapped your arms around him. After a moment Xiao returned the gesture, too caught up in your gentle grasp to want to resist.

Was fate kind? Xiao couldn’t tell. He’d been so sure he’d never find a partner, never some he could call his home, his anchor. And yet it had come to pass, and though Xiao was afraid, so desperately afraid, he also was hopeful. How could he not be? The last thing Xiao had wanted was a soulmate, but now that he’d met you, he never wanted to be without you again.

Both your phrases faded over time. But your love never did.