#our lives matter less than animals

[talesinfallacies]

,

[samuraisharkie]

that virtualtoybox person literally told me they aren’t reading what I said and then tried to talk to me w about as much in their tags lol. i never understand people that go ‘I’m not reading all of that but you should read what I have to say” bc like. imagine how infuriated ur gonna get when that response is leveled right back at you? and judging by their tags they didn’t read past my very first line. bc they started comparing animals and animal rights to eugenics which is EXACTLY what I was saying is extremely dangerous to do. That’s exactly how people start calling things that happen to animals a ‘Holocaust’ and I’m positive such a statement is made in that book they told me to read. I’m disabled too. I know what I’m talking fucking about too. In the animal section, I for SURE know more than you do! Because if you knew and truly cared about animals and their welfare, you wouldn’t be talking like PETA. Here’s a trick to other disability activists: learn about animal welfare by volunteering on farms and educating yourself on breeders and the industry rather than getting involved in PETA! And another critical trick: NEVER compare animals to people! That’s exactly what the freaks that think any living thing with a deformity that should die are doing. These people would clutch their pearls the moment they hear farms cull undesirable animals bc they can’t afford to keep every single one and have to streamline their breeding and raising to what will help keep the farm running. That doesn’t mean these farmers want to do the same to people, because the animal is NOT a person and doesn’t live like one. Our lives are not even remotely comparable! People like OP are the people that keep a wild bird with an amputated wing alive bc in their mind it would be insinuating all amputees should die if the bird is put down, and next thing the bird is on the Dodo as inspiration porn. Duex Face is an exception to two headed animals, not the rule. Don’t tell me to do my research when you’re spouting talking points from people that have caused more problems for animals as a whole second only to the commercialization of animal industry. Maybe you need some research (field research) instead! They’re going to block me and I’m assuming that’s why I can’t rb the post anymore even if I wanted to (like I said I didn’t want to start a fight so like. I’m not going to be yelling and acting like an asshole. I swore a bit in the tags initially bc I feel very strongly about how animal rights activists have fucked up disability activism by acting like there’s equivalency in our existences, but that’s not targeted. Most was going to respond telling them that if they feel this strongly they need to be reading more about the animal industry rather than relying on people that are in no way experts on animals talking as an authority on them, and using that to tie with their human rights activism as if animals rights and humans rights are even remotely the same in any way. Whatever though at least the tags are there if anyone who cares enough actually reads them and thinks about them. Will most likely just attract militant vegans and ARAs like the op but whatever)

[great-and-small]

When I was in vet school I went to this one lecture that I will never forget. Various clubs would have different guest lecturers come in to talk about relevant topics and since I was in the Wildlife Disease Association club I naturally attended all the wildlife and conservation discussions. Well on this particular occasion, the speakers started off telling us they had been working on a project involving the conservation of lemurs in Madagascar. Lemurs exist only in Madagascar, and they are in real trouble; they’re considered the most endangered group of mammals on Earth. This team of veterinarians was initially assembled to address threats to lemur health and work on conservation solutions to try and save as many lemur species from extinction as possible. As they explored the most present dangers to lemurs they found that although habitat loss was the primary problem for these vulnerable animals, predation by humans was a significant cause of losses as well. The vets realized it was crucial for the hunting of lemurs by native people to stop, but of course this is not so simple a problem.

The local Malagasy people are dealing with extreme poverty and food insecurity, with nearly half of children under five years old suffering from chronic malnutrition. The local people have always subsisted on hunting wildlife for food, and as Madagascar’s wildlife population declines, the people who rely on so-called bushmeat to survive are struggling more and more. People are literally starving.

Our conservation team thought about this a lot. They had initially intended to focus efforts on education but came to understand that this is not an issue arising from a lack of knowledge. For these people it is a question of survival. It doesn’t matter how many times a foreigner tells you not to eat an animal you’ve hunted your entire life, if your child is starving you are going to do everything in your power to keep your family alive.

So the vets changed course. Rather than focus efforts on simply teaching people about lemurs, they decided to try and use veterinary medicine to reduce the underlying issue of food insecurity. They supposed that if a reliable protein source could be introduced for the people who needed it, the dependence on meat from wildlife would greatly decrease. So they got to work establishing new flocks of chickens in the most at-risk communities, and also initiated an aggressive vaccination program for Newcastle disease (an infectious illness of poultry that is of particular concern in this area). They worked with over 600 households to ensure appropriate husbandry and vaccination for every flock, and soon found these communities were being transformed by the introduction of a steady protein source. Families with a healthy flock of chickens were far less likely to hunt wild animals like lemurs, and fewer kids went hungry. Thats what we call a win-win situation.

This chicken vaccine program became just one small part of an amazing conservation outreach initiative in Madagascar that puts local people at the center of everything they do. Helping these vulnerable communities of people helps similarly vulnerable wildlife, always. If we go into a country guns-blazing with that fire for conservation in our hearts and a plan to save native animals, we simply cannot ignore the humans who live around them. Doing so is counterintuitive to creating an effective plan because whether we recognize it or not, humans and animals are inextricably linked in many ways. A true conservation success story is one that doesn’t leave needy humans in its wake, and that is why I think this particular story has stuck with me for so long.

(Source 1)

(Source 2- cool video exploring this initiative from some folks involved)

(Source 3)

[ask-the-pioneer]

Out of curiosity why do you bow before eating?

"It's a sign of respect."

"When I kill to eat, I know I am taking a life. I do it out of necessity. The creature's life moves to me so that I can survive and prosper. With this gesture, I pay tribute to its sacrifice."

"The bow is also to acknowledge the work of a person who brought the food, to feed me and the others. You're not pressured to do that, but even if the meal isn't to your liking, you would still recognize the effort. Our colony was small, with Hunter as the only adult, so any food brought back was celebrated."

"In my later cycles, the ability to craft explosive spears became incredibly useful for hunting and self-defense. I had a natural advantage, but it was to be exercised with caution."

"Truth is, I can do a lot of damage with my «powers». It's a big, alienating responsibility. And it was an issue in my younger cycles when I couldn't control it well - sometimes people around me would get hurt, but despite that, I was shown kindness and given guidance by my mentor. My adoptive family did not treat me like a freak, and it mattered a lot to me. It still does."

"I feel no need for bloodlust. I am content with my life… for the most part. Whatever grievances I may have, I know it's bad to take it out on others. For the temporary relief it gives, you realize it really is not worth it. To kill for sport, it makes my stomach turn - a sad waste of life. Just because I can, doesn't mean I should. Cruel thoughts are the domain of a scared animal. I don't want to live in suffering because of such fear, and most of all I don't want my family to think less of me. Does that make sense? I wouldn’t want to disappoint them, or lose their trust…"

"When I hunt for food, I often think of what my mentor would say. Those thoughts guide my spears, the memories remind me to be kind in the face of the vast, indifferent world. Most of the creatures out there have it considerably worse than me, trying to survive nature day by day. I've been blessed with a mark, I know things that a typical slugcat would never need in their life. I don't think I can ever go back - knowledge, like my «powers», are both a blessing and a curse. And, dare I say, I think it is better that I have those powers… for I know, at the very least, that I trust myself to use them wisely."

"The bow is a sign of respect, and a gentle reminder of the things that I stand for."

[amongemeraldclouds]

The Slytherin Boys as Disney Princes

Ft. Theodore Nott, Mattheo Riddle, Blaise Zabini, Tom Riddle, Draco Malfoy, and Lorenzo Berkshire. Also features x f!Reader as their equivalent Disney princesses.

© amongemeraldclouds I do not consent to having my work shared or reproduced elsewhere. Please do not claim as your own, tumblr is the only place I share my written work.

✿ Masterlist | 1.8k words

From the Wizarding World to magical fairytales, let’s crown our beloved Slytherin boys as the following Disney princes:

Theodore Nott as Prince Charming (Cinderella)

Note: Prince Charming doesn’t have much personality in the original 1950s film, but we learn more about him in later films, where I drew information from.

✭ Raised in privilege as a prince, Theodore Nott lived a very charmed life just as the name Prince Charming suggests.

✭ With only royals and commoners to distinguish class, he is less prejudiced and more accepting of others. His father taught him at an early age that they have a responsibility to their people just as their people serve them.

✭ Because of this, he is open and friendly to everyone, including animals. He was once hunting down a deer only for it to be a game in the end, him and the deer are actually friends. (Note: Yes this is canon Prince Charming and is very Theo as well.)

✭ If Disney were less wholesome, Theo as Prince Charming would have regular lovers, but it will only always be physical. He has not yet found a connection with anyone, but it doesn’t matter because he enjoys sex. He certainly never runs out of women to sleep with.

✭ Beneath all the charm, he secretly hopes to find a love match. The kind of relationship that transcends strategy and status. He longs for passion and romance, much like in the books he reads in the castle’s library, though he’ll never let anyone know.

✭ His father in the meantime is keen to see him married to an eligible maiden so he threw a ball. He rolled his eyes and yawned when no one was looking, initially bored because he still couldn’t find the connection he longed for. At this point, he doubted he’d ever find it. 

✭ Then he met you. You in your light blue dress and glass slippers. Everything about you sparkled and it ignited something in his heart. He never knew romantic love before you, but he recognized it right away.

✭ He wouldn’t care that you were a commoner, he’d admire your courage and kindness once he got to know you. Besides, true love was far more valuable than any precious metals and gems.

✭ After you ran off, your glass slipper gave him hope. He was going to stop at nothing to find you, his true love.

Mattheo Riddle as Flynn Rider (Tangled)

⋆☀︎. Left to his own devices, Mattheo Riddle would go on countless adventures across different kingdoms and forests, thieving only as a means to an end so he could survive. 

⋆☀︎. He enjoys the rush, being chased by the authorities and not being held down by rules or responsibilities. (Except they can never get his damn nose right on Wanted signs despite the distinct cut he has on the bridge of his nose iykyk.)

⋆☀︎. With his charming personality and irresistible smolder, he’s an expert in banding together with fellow criminals and often smooth talks his way into ladies’ beds. All temporary partnerships for his on-the-go lifestyle.

⋆☀︎. Until one day he comes across you, the girl with golden hair and big eyes — not to be underestimated with your ferocious pan wielding tendencies. He learns the last part a little too late, the hard way.

⋆☀︎. As he promised to take you to see the floating lights in exchange for the crown, he finds himself having fun swinging his fists and learning about your power to bring out the good in people.

⋆☀︎. You managed to charm tough guys in a bar, getting them to talk about their dreams—of being a florist, of performing on stage, and of falling in love. He realizes it may not be so bad to go on adventures with someone else.

⋆☀︎. He was already mesmerized before he learned about your magical hair. He saw the light within you long before that enchanted night when lanterns floated through the air like stars hung low just for you. And of course, they were always meant for you.

⋆☀︎. Before Mother Gothel could plunge the weapon in him, he already knew he was a goner. He knew he could never go back to who he was. He was now and forever going to be a moth to your flame, your soul as radiant as the sun even long after your golden hair turned brown.

Blaise Zabini as Kristoff (Frozen)

•❅*ִ Much like Kristoff, Blaise Zabini exudes a quiet confidence that does not need to declare itself.

•❅*ִ As an ice harvester who works with ice picks, hooks and ropes, he has an athletic build and a tough exterior, but do not be fooled for he has a soft heart within.

•❅*ִ Having grown among trolls and reindeers, he sometimes gets frustrated when interacting with people. He believes reindeers are better than people, but all that changes when he meets you.

•❅*ִ He is very practical and honest, but when he is blunt he often means well. He is quick to call you out on the fact that you’re about to marry a man you hardly know.

•❅*ִ He initially agrees to help you end winter to save his ice business and get a new sled. However, the more challenges you face together, he grows to admire your fearlessness and determination.

•❅*ִ While you initially find him to be annoying, you soon discover his charming and funny side.

•❅*ִ He will however suppress his feelings for you, thinking it’s better to let it go because you’re already engaged anyway. But when truths are revealed and no one is who they appear to be, you’ll melt his frozen heart with a kiss on the cheek.

Draco Malfoy as Li Shang (Mulan)

✿ To Draco Malfoy, loyalty and family legacy is important, just like Li Shang who aims to be just as great as his father, the head of the Imperial Chinese Army.

✿ He is disciplined and has mastered both physical and strategic ways of waging war. He has a lot of traditional beliefs, including making a man out of his troops using elaborate physical training.

✿ He starts questioning those beliefs when he sees your determination as Ping, using both weights to climb up the pole even though it took you countless failures throughout the night. What were these confusing feelings in his chest?

✿ Yet he couldn’t deny it, nor would he try. He was ready to lay his life down for you even before you saved him. It didn’t take him long to return the favor when he found out you were a woman and so he spared your life.

✿ Despite his firm upbringing, he was always loyal to his heart. Even though you betrayed the army, he knew your intentions had been good and that your hard work made you a skilled soldier.

✿ He listened and trusted your last ditch efforts to save the Emperor, even resorting to cross dressing as part of the plan. It all paid off as you saved the Emperor and all of China. 

✿ In the end, you were absolved of your deceit and honored for your heroism, finally letting your reflection show who you are and what you’re made of. Your final crime was stealing his heart.

Tom Riddle as Aladdin (Aladdin)

✶ Tom Riddle grew up as an orphan and resorted to a life of crime to survive in Agrabah. Secretly, he enjoyed it too.

✶ Smitten by your beauty, he saved you from a merchant at the market and he was impressed with your agility when it came to dodging the authorities.

✶ When you reached Aladdin’s home, you revealed you were from the palace and left thinking you’d never see him again. He longed to visit the palace to get another glimpse of your beauty.

✶ Named as a diamond in the rough, Jafar recognized Tom’s talent and recruited him to steal the magic lamp from the Cave of Wonders. Encouraged by the promise of riches (therefore power) and a subconscious need to please Jafar, he takes on the task, saving a magic carpet in the process.

✶ Back at the palace, your father sought to marry you off to find a successor to his throne. You met suitors, including a flashy prince called Ali from Ababwa.

✶ On a magic carpet ride, you trick Ali into admitting he’s the thief you previously met at the market. He manipulates you into thinking he’s the prince and the thief persona was just an act for him to get to know the city better.

✶ When Jafar uncovers Tom’s identity, he steals the magic lamp and wreaks havoc using the genie’s wishes. Understanding Jafar’s ego, he tricks him into wishing to be the most powerful being in the universe, which imprisons Jafar in his own lamp as a genie.

✶ Instead of using his last wish to continue being the rightful prince who can marry you, he used it to free the genie, as he has now learned how power corrupts others. It wasn’t worth it.

✶ Crowned as the next sultana, you recognized how our actions and choices defined us. Despite Tom’s manipulations, he showed up and was willing to learn. He was not afraid to look into the dark and make the right decisions when it mattered, a husband fit for a ruler.

Lorenzo Berkshire as Jack Frost (Rise of The Guardians)

Before you come at me, I know Jack Frost is not a Disney prince, but I’m a Jelsa truther so here we are.

❅ Lorenzo Berkshire mirrors Jack Frost’s love for mischief and games. As the guardian of fun, he enjoys playing harmless tricks on children and hearing them laugh as a result.

❅ Beneath the playful exterior, he deeply cares for those around him, having saved his sister from a frozen lake. His ultimate sacrifice led to his untimely demise, which the Man in The Moon rewarded him by making him immortal and granting him powers. 

❅ He never found much need for romance, opting to spend his days playing with children and visiting his fellow guardians instead. Until one day, he visits the Enchanted Forest and comes across you, its mighty protector.

❅ Despite the initial distrust, he wins you over with his easy smile and sincerity. You never realized it until then, how lonely it was to be an ice queen without her king.

❅ Jack was also amazed to find someone else who could play with the magic of snow. He felt seen and understood like never before. For once, the loneliness in his heart melted away.

❅ So you spent your days together, laughing over silly jokes and exchanging stories. The cold never bothered you, but being with him made you understand why people enjoyed the sweetness of hot cocoa and why they cuddled close to a fire.

❅ Both your friends and family were happy for you. One day, Jack asked you to invite everyone so you can have a contest on who built the best sculptures. Your audience and judges comprised of Jack’s fellow Guardians, Queen Anna and King Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven.

❅ You showed off with iced gardens, towers, and even the shape of Sven, but none was more impressive as when you turned around to find Jack on one knee, a gleaming diamond in his hand. It was a picture perfect moment with ice sculptures in the background, celebrated with loved ones. 

❅ And soon, the ice queen would never be without her king.  

✿ Masterlist <- read more!

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Unsurprisingly, a lot of the commentary I'm seeing about this has been of the "But--but--I would do the same thing because I don't want anything bad to happen to the deer!"

Look. I love wildlife, and I love getting to see deer, coyotes, and even the occasional black bear in my neighborhood. But they are here because there is good habitat nearby with lots of natural food sources, not because I deliberately put out food for them to eat. I respect them as wild animals with whom my relationship is very different compared to the domesticated animals I take care of every day. A deer is not a sheep or a horse; a coyote is not a dog.

People who do things like try to tame deer or, worse yet, try to raise a fawn or other young wildlife like pets are robbing those wild animals of their natural existences. We've already wrought our own preferences on the landscape to a severe degree, tearing the wildness out of it to create lawns and farms and subdivisions and strip malls. When we then dismiss the wildness of these animals and impress our own desire for connection on our terms on them, we are harming them.

I've already written elsewhere about the difference between "tame" and "domesticated". No matter how docile that deer seems, it is never going to be as (relatively) safe and tractable as a domesticated sheep or goat. It will always be more unpredictable, and more likely to lash out suddenly at a person due to fear, or hormones, or protection of young.

These animals need their wild instincts to be intact if they are going to survive without being dependent on us. They need those instincts in order to find mates and keep the gene pool stirred up. Their instincts keep them safe from danger, including humans. And their instincts never totally go away, no matter how much we may try to tame them otherwise.

This is why a good wildlife rehab is going to minimize handling of the wild animals they care for, especially those that are going to be able to be released back into the wild. The less comfortable these animals are with humans, the better their chances of surviving in the wild and having fulfilling, natural lives. Wildlife that retain their wariness of humans are less likely to end up falling prey to hunting, or being killed as nuisance animals when they get too aggressive in seeking food or otherwise coming into conflict with people.

The person who painted "pet" on a fully grown white-tailed buck and put a collar around his neck may have felt like they were doing that deer a kindness, but they have likely robbed him of the chance to just live a natural life as his own, independent being out in the woods and fields. He might be out there, sure, but perhaps he won't mate because he imprinted on humans. Or maybe he will end up shot by a hunter in spite of the precautions because he's just too friendly and those antlers are worth taking the shot.

There will always be something missing from this deer's life because of the arrogance of someone who thought they could own and keep and control a wild-born animal for their own enjoyment, instead of allowing him to come and go as he pleased. Honestly, it reminds me of King Haggard from Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn, whose response to seeing something beautiful was to capture it and keep it rather than simply enjoying and remembering that magical moment:

"I like to watch them. They fill me with joy. The first I felt it I thought I was going to die. I said to the Red Bull I must have them, all of them, all there are. For nothing makes me happy but their shining and their grace. So the Red Bull caught them. Each time I see the unicorns, my unicorns, it is like that morning in the woods and I am truly young, in spite of myself."

That's how I feel about people who are willing to drastically alter a wild animal's behavior for their own selfish benefit, even if they think they're being kind. I know I'm fighting a bit of an uphill battle in this, but I'm rather stubborn that way.

[whxtedreams]

The Hunter and His Witch

A Witch Hunter!Din Djarin x witch!reader oneshot

Summary: The task assigned to him by the lords was a simple one, whether her body was brought in warm or cold mattered little to them, as long as her life had been extinguished. In their eyes, she was an abomination, a stain on this holy land that needed to be purged. And the more he watched her, the less he understood why.

Word Count: 7.1k

Tags: Witch hunter AU, witch!reader, third person POV, reader has she/her pronouns, probably inaccurate witchy things – just using my imagination, injury, threats, din reconsidering his life choices.   

Main masterlist - Series Master list

There were precious few of us remaining, scattered across the land in hiding like hunted game. Fear gripped our hearts as we were hunted like deers, too dangerous to scavenge in groups or pairs, lest we be mistaken for the witches we were. Yet traveling alone was even more lethal, for the target on our backs grew a vivid red in the eyes of those who hunted us. The threat was too great, and the risk too real. Our very lives were at stake, every moment we remained on guard and alone.

For generations upon generations, witchcraft had been referred to as a gift, a mystical force that some bloodlines were lucky enough to wield. But now, it was seen as a curse, to be punished with a brutal and painful death simply because we were born with something that someone else did not have. The injustice was unbearable, as the gift became a burden, the once celebrated power a thing to be feared. The fear of witchcraft permeated the land, and any who bared the power must hide it for fear of being discovered and punished.

The men that hunted us were no better than ourselves, their fear of us blinding them to the reality. We meant no harm unless we were first threatened, our existence being no danger by itself. We were not naturally dangerous, unless unjust violence was thrust upon us.

And now, as she sprinted through the woods in the black of night, the unjust violence chased her. Fear gripped her heart and made her legs move even faster; the adrenaline rushed through her veins as she tried to escape the threat that hunted her down. Her body trembled, knowing that should she slow down for even a moment, her death would be swiftly and cruelly delivered. Every twig that snapped or leaf that rustled fueled the adrenaline running through her blood, every glance at the shadows or movements in the corners of her eye raised her heart rate all over again.

She had never hurt a soul, and yet here she was, being hunted for what she could potentially do. The unfair treatment made her heart weep, and her resolve wavered. The injustice of being hunted like an animal, like a dangerous beast with the potential for harm, was a crushing blow. But she persisted, through the pain and despair, to run. To run through the night with unjust violence in her wake, her life on the line.

He was faster than her though, and she could hear his footsteps gain traction as she attempted to flee. The hunter said nothing, never did. For two days, they have played a twisted game of cat and mouse, evading his deathly grip with the magic that threatened her very life. Every second spent evading the hunter, the threat of being caught grew exponentially, as the magic that has served as her shield and defense gradually chipped away at her health. The pressure was overwhelming, but she dared not stop.

She dared not harm him, to truly become what he feared her to be. To prove them all right. No, she would not harm him even when he eventually has her by the throat and she stares up into his hateful eyes, she will do no harm. 

There was a series of events that had brought her to this point, the hunter trailing after her like a wildfire ripping through the forest. A glance that lingered too long in a village she was passing through, catching the attention of the masked figure who lingered in the shadows, stalking anything he considered a potential threat. Perhaps the smell of power he believed to be dangerous emanated from her person as she smiled and thanked the merchant for the bread she bought.

The man, the hunter, was surrounded by darkness, as if the very essence of the shadows were drawn to him and drowned him in a sea of inky black. She could feel him from where she stood across the bustling street, the dark alley that he stood in created an ominous presence. The very light of her power roared in agony, the burning brilliance and warmth drained away and suffocated by the all consuming darkness this man was. He was the very personification of darkness, a void that swallowed everything it touched, a living abyss of emptiness.

And yet, she felt sorrow for him. Though he was the one hunting her, she could not help but feel sympathy and pity for the man. She mourned the light that had been snuffed out from within him, extinguished by the darkness that had surrounded him like a shroud. Perhaps he had once been light as well, once held warmth and brightness, once given off the rays of hope. But that light had been taken away, replaced with shadows and nothingness.

He sat across from her that fateful night in the tavern, the corner she sought as a refuge now shared with the reaper. His face was shrouded in darkness, the hood of his cloak hung low, obscuring and hiding his identity. His lower face was covered by thick material, the features underneath hidden from view. His presence was ominous and unsettling, the air charged with tension and dread, as if he were more than just a regular hunter.

He wore black and grey, his clothes fitted like they were a second skin, every contour and line defined and displayed. Weapons littered his body, worn freely, as if he were advertising his level of threat. Though he did not need the weapons on display to make his threat known, his entire presence broadcast his danger to all who looked upon him. His whole being was one of immense threat, every part of him declared with boldness and certainty that he was a dangerous entity, a being to be feared and respected.

And yet, she was feared and hunted. 

"A hunter," she declared, the weight of the words heavy upon her tongue.

Her meal, once a pleasure to consume, no longer held a taste for her. Her appetite lost as her mind raced. She set down her spoon, the presence across from her was the source of her anxiety and dread. A threat she could barely see, but felt, nonetheless.

“A witch," his voice was as dark as his presence, the words dripped with contempt and hatred in equal measure. He tilted his head, eyes hidden behind the thick material that covered his face as he studied her intently. His gloved hands rested on the table, clasped together, his stare sharp and unyielding.

“There’s no such thing,” she shook her head, the weight of his stare threatened to crush her. She kept her hands in her lap, avoiding any movement that might have painted her as a threatening or dangerous force.

Heaven forbid she appeared a threat to the darkness that he is.

He remained still, the silence hanging heavily between them, thick and dense, almost suffocating. It made her believe that he did not believe the words that spilled from her mouth. He could have said anything at that moment, but the silence spoke louder than any words. He had found his target, and nothing she said could convince him otherwise. He saw her, a witch by his definition, a creature to be exterminated and eradicated with ruthless brutality. The silence spoke for itself, speaking of an unspoken truth that filled the air with the scent of danger. 

She stole a glance around the tavern, catching the gazes of the other occupants of the establishment as they exchange whispers and passing glances. Their bodies were still, and their whispers were soft, but their eyes betrayed their intentions, staring at her and the obvious witch hunter seated across. They all wondered if he would kill her right here, in front of them, in a display of his hunting prowess and skill. She knew that they awaited with bated breath, wanting to see the slaughter of another witch. Their praise of the hunter is inevitable should he deliver the show they all desire. 

"You are going to kill me," she said, speaking up into the silence, addressing the masked hunter directly. Her words cut through the tense, charged air like a dagger, the truth of them sharp and piercing. He was a hunter after all, a hunter after her, and there could be no other reason behind this encounter but to see her death.

"This is the way." He stated coldly, a death sentence from his lips. The phrase was one she assumed he had uttered on countless occasions, as this was a familiar ritual for him. One of countless witches that had been captured, executed, and forgotten. For him, it was just another routine, another day on the job, another name to add to a list that would never end.

"It doesn't have to be." Her words fell upon deaf ears, dismissed and ignored by the hunter as his hand moved towards the dagger strapped to his chest. The simple gesture spoke volumes, the cold, emotionless demeanor that did not falter, the resolve that filled his visage as his hand closed around the dagger, all conveying his intentions.

“This is the way,” This was not a negotiation, nor a threat. This was a statement of fact. No witch had ever escaped this final encounter, none ever would. It was their moment of reckoning.

She had come to accept her fate, to make her peace with the inevitability of death at the hands of the hunter. She knew with certainty that her death would come with no just cause, in the name of someone else's beliefs. To die here, with an audience, was not the way she had intended. When she passed on from this world, she wanted to do so in the loving eyes of the earth, in the caring and nurturing embrace of her beautiful mother nature, to bleed and die into her, becoming one with her.

A smoke bomb was thrown, and screams of panic echoed through the tavern as chaos ensued. It was thrown not to save her life, but rather to give her just a moment more, a precious few seconds, to flee the hands of death, and the hunter who was hot on her trail. She raced towards the woods, ran with everything she had left, the hunter's footsteps grew louder and closer with each passing second.

If she managed to escape death, that was just a bonus.

But the woods were her home, a safe refuge, a sanctuary of solace and peace. It was the source of her strength, her power, her magic. The plants and earth itself were her lifeline, fueling and nourishing her gifts, a comforting and welcoming embrace. The woods were where she would run for safety, and where the hunter now sought to follow.

On the second day of relentless pursuit, her muscles grew weary and tired, her body had begun to feel the strain and fatigue of her nonstop use of magic. Her reserves were being drained for all they were worth, her strength and willpower waning as she continued to evade the hunter, who had followed her deep into the woods. It was becoming a game of who would tire from the hunt first, and it appeared as if she would be the one to succumb to exhaustion first.

She fell to her knees, digging her hands into the dirt as she struggled to muster the power within the earth, but the exhaustion was all-consuming and the reserve of her magic was running dangerously low. She felt as if her life force was being drained from her body, and she was unable to access the potent essence that normally flowed freely through the earth. The power was there, she could feel it, but she was unable to harness and channel it into herself. Her mind and body was reaching the point of utter fatigue and exhaustion.

He's behind her, the never ending darkness that he exuded and that engulfed him as he breathed, made his presence known to her in an almost otherworldly and menacing way. She could feel him creeping up on her, the shadow and the darkness grew in intensity and threatened to envelop her whole, to extinguish her light that was barely there anymore.

She knew that if she used more magic, it would surely cause irreparable damage and even kill her due to the strain it would place upon her. She had reached her limit, and to go further would push her weak and exhausted body over the brink, to be devoured by the all-consuming void that awaited.

His darkness had a thirst, and its hunger was for her life and existence. It was a race against time, against fatigue and exhaustion.

As she crawled towards the nearest tree, she slumped her back against its rough and splintering wood. She closed her eyes. She felt the world around her slip from her grasp and control, the life force steadily being drained out of her against her will. If this was how she were to die, then maybe dying here was not such a bad fate. Maybe death would be preferable to exhaustion and powerlessness, the feeling of being unable to control the world around her, having her magic drained without having the time to regain the strength she once had before.

The soft whirl of a stream nearby, the howling of a wolf, and the sound of frogs that hopped around her brought some sense of life back to her. The forest screamed of life around her, despite the exhaustion and emptiness that she felt within herself, the absence of the power and strength that she once had. Just because she cannot feel it, it does not mean that it is not there. The forest was alive, and it's calling to her, urging her to stay and to hold on.

The hunter was before her as she opened her eyes, his breathing heavy.  His eyes were hidden in the shadows that enveloped his face, his features almost invisible in the darkness of night. She could not make out his features or his expression, only the faint shimmer of the moonlight reflecting on his sword as he took it from his back. 

“You stopped running, witch?”

In one last final attempt to save her life, she summoned every last remaining shred of magic that she had left. She screamed out in agony, using all the energy that she could muster to conjure the vines from the ground, wrapping them around the hunter's body as he struggled against the will of nature. Her screams of pain echoed off the forest walls around her, rising above his grunts as he swung his sword in a desperate attempt to break the shackles of her enchantment.

All too soon, the vines were twisted around the hunter, her own body becoming a conduit for the potent and lethal magic that she had conjured, and the vines began breaking the hunters' bones and caused serious harm. Her cries blended in with the night, mixing together in a haunted melody, the sound of pain and anguish rose from her throat as the forest around her stilled and became silent like a tomb.

She had not meant to injure him, she just wanted him to stop.

She would have killed him that night, the magic she had summoned suffocating the air from his lungs, if she had not passed out from the sheer force of the exertion and effort that was required to conjure it in the first place. Her exhausted body was depleted of all the magic and energy that she had built up, and her weakened state led to her passing out before she was able to finish off her hunter and send him to his death.

When she woke with the rising of the sun, she felt like death itself had already seized a hold on her. Just the simple act of breathing felt like a struggle in her weakened state, and as she opened her eyes, she perceived how close she was to death. When she looked around, she saw that the hunter was still lying on the ground, the decaying vines still wrapped around him like an armored shell, his body unmoving.

Her chest constricted, and she let out a painful cough that brought up blood, leaking from her mouth. This was the price she had to pay for pushing herself beyond her limits. 

The man stirred, groaning in pain, the soft murmurs of agony pulling at her heart. Knowing that she had caused this, almost having killed him in her struggle for life. It tore into her heart, an aching, bitter feeling that lingered even as the man began to come around, the thought and the knowledge that she had played a part in his suffering.

She had become what he feared her to be, only brought from the fear in her own heart.

She stood on shaky legs, wiped the blood from her mouth, the pain of exertion still present throughout her entire body. She stumbled over to the man, desperately trying to hold herself up as the exhaustion set in. She managed to make it to her knees beside him, examining the wounds that she had inflicted and observed the extent of the damage that she had caused. She saw the broken bones and the deep cuts through his clothes.

"I'm sorry..." She managed to whimper; her voice hoarse. her hands reached out for him, her fingers fumbling helplessly as she tried to stop the bleeding. Tears trickled down her face as the feeling of guilt and shame washed over her, the realization of what she had done weighed heavily upon her mind and conscience.

His hand moved like lightning as he grabbed onto her wrist, a sharp and sudden action that caught her completely off guard. His grip was tight, the muscles taut and the fingers gripping hard on her wrist. "Don't touch me." He groaned, the words filled with disdain and fury.

"I'm not trying to hurt you," she tried to explain, her voice caught in her throat as she tried to offer a rational explanation. Her gaze traveled to the void that lay behind his hood, unable to make out any features.

Her explanation was met only with silence, the echo of her own voice filled the void between her words, and the only sound around her other than the rustle of the forest leaves in the wind.

“Liar.”

He tried to move his other arm, but gasped in pain as he did so, the movement sent a jolt of pain through his body that rippled with the force of lightning. He closed his eyes tightly, the strain and the pain evident in the grimace on his face, the effort caused him to struggle to even breathe.

She shook off his grip on her wrist, his hold loosened as she reached across to his other arm. Raising the shredded sleeve of his shirt, she saw the broken bone lying beneath. The wound that she had caused. His unbroken arm reached back for her, gripping her cloak in a futile attempt to pull her away.

His sudden tug pulled her forward, pulling her close and caused her to press against the solidity of his chest. She was forced to stare at the shadow and the darkness that laid beneath the hood of his cloak, and her eyes traveled up to the edge of his hood, where the smallest hint of the hunter's face remained hidden in anonymity.

“Please, let me help you.” She pleaded.

"You will do no such thing." His voice was sharp and cold, the anger and disdain evident in each syllable. He lashed out at her, pushing her away and sent her tumbling onto the ground. She landed on her back, the force of his shove sent a jolt of pain through her body, the exhaustion further compounding with the effects of the fall. She laid there on the ground, the cold hardness of the forest floor pressing against her back as she felt the blood trickle from her nose.

He tried to move, but the sudden jolt of pain and the weakness that had come over his body forced him to fall back to the ground beside her. He groaned, a sharp gasp of air as he hit the ground, the impact sent a wave of pain up his spine. His body was still, the only movement came from his labored breaths as he tried to regain his composure and his strength.

She knelt beside him once more, her fingers wiping the blood from her face as she moved closer to him. He looked up at her through the pain that was etched across his face, his eyes burned into hers as she took his hand in hers. This time, he did not shake her touch; he allowed her to hold his hand, his fingers wrapping around hers as he let her touch him, holding on despite the pain and the anger that was still present within him.

"Just kill me." He sighed, the words spoken bitterly and quietly as he closed his eyes, his body tensing as he waited for her to deal the killing blow. However, the soft touch of her hand gently caressed his face. Her hand was warm against his skin, and her touch was tentative and tender, a stark contrast to the harshness of his words.

“I told you, I will do no such thing.” She repeated herself.

If she had the power to do so, she would heal every wound on his body and soul, to mend and to repair the damage that had been done. Even though he had tried to snuff out the light from her soul, she would ignite his, her own strength and resilience shining bright as she refused to waver in the face of his anger and his pain. The gentleness of her touch was a reminder of the empathy that still lived within her.

Despite the weakening of her own body, death's grip strong upon her as the remnants of her power slipped away, she gathered her remaining strength and dragged the hunter through the woods. Her destination was a cabin that she had taken refuge in days prior, a place where she would be able to tend to his wounds properly and give him the care and attention he needed. Her own body was struggling, the toll of her own fatigue and weakness starting to take its toll, but she pushed on, determined to reach the cabin before it was too late.

Blood flowed freely from her nose and ears, her body weak and close to collapse. In a desperate plea, she begged the very foundation of the world to give her just one final ounce of strength, to help her lift the hunter onto the bed. And with a sickening laugh, her prayer was answered. The price of said power snatched her consciousness away like a fleeting dream, and her body collapsed onto the floor beside the hunter, the last remnants of her strength used up in the act of bringing him comfort

The hunter groaned as he was placed onto the bed, the impact causing a sharp jolt of pain to run through his body. However, it was the sound of her body hitting the floor that caught his attention, the sound of her collapse echoing off the walls of the cabin. He sat up in the bed, and he peeked over the side, peering down at the girl who lay unconscious on the floor, lost to the world around them.

If his leg and arm were not broken, he would have walked right out of the cabin and left her there, abandoning her without a second thought. However, his injuries prevented him from doing so. He knew that he would not make it out the door without collapsing, the pain and the weakness too much to bear. The frustration and anger in him flared up, the helplessness and the fact that he was reliant on her for his own survival eating away at him.

The thought crossed his mind, the idea that he could end it all right then and there, taking advantage of her unconscious state and prevent her from ever waking up agin. But something about the fact that she didn't end his life in the woods and instead saved him nagged at his curiosity. Despite his anger and his pain, her act of mercy had bewildered him.

Witches were supposed to be heartless creatures.

She stirred once more, her body shifted as the moonlight streamed through the torn curtains. She managed to pull herself to her feet, the effort costing her as she trembled with weakness. The hunter watched her keenly, his jaw clenched tightly as he waited for her to notice him, to realize he was there. He braced himself for her to strike, expecting the worst.

The softly curled smile that formed on her lips as her eyes met the cloaked face of the hunter was not what he expected at all. It was an expression of peace and a calmness that went against the anger and the pain that lay within him. Her smile was gentle and sweet, and even through the shadows of his hood, he could feel the warmth that emanated from her gaze.

Her eyes shifted from his hood, moving down to his broken bones as the smile faded from her face. She sighed softly as she took a seat at the edge of the bed, positioning herself with her back facing him, her body mere inches from him and the bed, all too close to the danger that he posed. Her head fell as she looked away.

“It will take a few days until I’m strong enough to heal the wounds I caused you.”

The hunter grunted as he tried to shift himself further away from her, the effort caused him pain but he was determined not to let her touch him with her magic. He did not trust her, nor did he want to be vulnerable and weak in her presence, the remnants of anger and caution still lingering within him.

She paid no attention to the hunter's movement, as she stood up from the bed, her attention focused on the task at hand.

“I may not have magic at my disposal, but I can do what I can with simple medicine.”

Her mind was set on tending to his wounds and helping him recover, despite his protests and his unwillingness to accept her help. She moved around the cabin, gathering the necessary supplies she would need to treat his injuries.

The hunter watched her with intent, his gaze sharp and filled with suspicion. He tensed up as she sat before him once more, the labored sound of his breathing filling the air between them.

She had no intention of causing him any further pain, and yet he looked at her as if he expected her to draw nothing but screams of agony from him. 

In the folktales, witches are often portrayed as beings who spread terror and destruction, burning villages to the ground with their magic. But in truth, it was often the hands of men, driven by fear and ignorance, who brought about the downfall of those villages. Their paranoia and superstition led to the persecution of those who were different, casting blame and suspicion upon anyone who did not fit into their narrow view.

In that moment, she turned to act not in violence and destruction, but in healing and care. She set his broken bones, mended his cuts, and soothed his bruises, tending to his wounds with a gentleness and a care that contradicted what he had come to expect from her. She acted not as his downfall, but as his savior.

The hunter had finally given into exhaustion, his body stilled as he drifted into a deep sleep. The pain and the fatigue that had plagued him had settled deep within his bones, and she was grateful for the silence that followed. She no longer had to fight him, to fend off his hands as he tried to push her away while she worked on him. A small part of her wondered if he would even offer her a word of thanks for her efforts.

She took advantage of the hunter's sleep to gather food and replenish her own strength. Drawing from the very earth itself, she felt her magic begin to flow back into her blood, replenishing the energy that had been drained from her. She was still too weak to wield any significant magic, but she no longer felt the icy grip of death upon her, a small but significant victory.

On the second day, the hunter woke with a sudden gasp, the sound loud and sharp in the quiet cabin. She held his arm in her hands, her eyes closed in concentration as she focused on her healing abilities. He yelled for her to release him, his voice filled with anger and pain, but her grip was unyielding, her hands like iron shackles holding him fast. Despite his protests, warm energy filtered through his blood, causing his body to jerk and writhe in agony as he felt the bones in his arm shift.

And then bliss.

He felt himself slowly sink into the bed; the once hard mattress now transformed into a cloud of blissful softness. His body grew heavy, as if he was sinking into the warm embrace of a river on a summer's day. A profound sense of contentment washed over him, a smile crept onto his face, and a strange and unfamiliar high took over his body.

The girl stumbled and fell to the floor, her fragile body succumbing to the strain and the toil of her magic. The cost of healing the hunter was too great, and the stain upon her magic was all too painful to bear.

The hunter opened his eyes and sat up on the bed as the blissful haze began to recede. His gaze fell upon the witch, her body lying motionless on the hard wooden floor. He studied her for a moment, the rise and fall of her chest the only indication that she still lived.

The thought flickered through his mind, the possibility of ending her there and then while she lay defenseless within his reach. He balled his hand into a fist, the arm that had been broken mere moments ago now completely healed, and he hesitated.

The frown that crossed his face was a reflection of the unfamiliar feeling within him. He had never hesitated before, for hesitation lead to death. But now, he was filled with doubt, a feeling foreign to him.

She had once again healed him, healing his wounds even though it drew her own death closer. She had tended to his injuries, only to cause greater harm to her own self. The act struck him as selfless and strangely altruistic, a strange and unexpected act from the very creature he had sought to kill.

When she woke once more, he asked for her name.

She managed a small smile where she lay on the floor, even as blood trickled from her mouth, staining her lips and chin. In a soft whisper, she spoke her name aloud into the darkening cabin, the sound echoing off the thick, wooden walls.

“Din,” The hunter replied.

She remained on the cold floor throughout the night, lying there unmoving and silent. He tried to convince himself that he didn't care, that her wellbeing didn't matter to him. Yet, as the morning light began to filter through the cracks in the cabin walls, he found himself looking towards her, his gaze lingering as she rose slowly to her feet.

She was so weak; he took pity on her.

She would make such an easy kill.

“So, Din,” she spoke, her voice a soft sigh that broke the silence of the cabin on the fifth day. She was seated, her legs curled up against her chest as she placed a small, worn book on the table beside her. Her gaze darted up to meet his, the light from the fire casting a warm glow across her face.

Din gave a soft hum in response, his attention still focused on stirring the contents of his bowl, the sound of the spoon clinking against the sides of the ceramic filling the air. He remained engrossed in his task, occasionally pushing the carrots around in the liquid, making no effort to look up at her as she spoke.

“Will you still kill me?”

The question hung in the air, the sound of his stirring spoon suddenly falling silent as he froze, the room seemingly holding its breath in anticipation. She waited, her heart pounding in her chest, yet she already knew his answer deep within her heart.

"This is the way," he repeated, his voice firm and steady. The words were more than just a mantra, they were the philosophy by which he lived his life. He continued stirring his soup, the movement of the spoon punctuating the finality of his statement.

There was a pause, a moment of quiet, before he spoke once more. "Will you still heal me," he asked, his voice steady, "knowing my intentions?" His eyes did not meet hers, yet he could feel the weight of her gaze upon him, her eyes piercing into the very depths of his soul.

"This is the way," she repeated his own words back to him, the words carrying the same stubborn resolve with which he had spoken them.

On the seventh day, she finally managed to coax Din from the bed to a chair on the porch. She could sense the brooding aura that clung to him like a dark cloud and felt that a change of scenery might help lighten the shadows that seemed to burden him.

The task assigned to him by the lords was a simple one, whether her body was brought in warm or cold mattered little to them, as long as her life had been extinguished. In their eyes, she was an abomination, a stain on this holy land that needed to be purged.

And the more he watched her, the less he understood why.

She sat among the flowers; a radiant figure surrounded by the very essence of life. Rabbits darted playfully beneath her feet, their tiny paws rustling through the grass. Birds perched on her shoulders, singing her name like a melodious chorus. As she moved, flora sprung from the earth in her wake, a beautiful trail of color and growth behind her.

It made no sense to him how he was tasked to end the life of someone who so effortlessly brought life into the world. Everywhere he looked, he saw the evidence of her power, in the flowers that bloomed, the creatures that surrounded her, and the beauty that spread like a canvas at her feet. How could he snuff the life from someone who had the power to create it?

And yet, he knew he had to follow the path laid out for him, for this was the way of his people. His creed was his identity, his purpose. If he did not abide by their teachings, then what would remain of him?

For whom would Din be without his creed?

That evening, her fingers danced through the air with grace and elegance, weaving intricate shapes and figures out of the wild vines that grew outside by the window. With a smile, she conjured a doll-like figurine of him, the resemblance striking even though she had never seen his face behind his cloak. And to his own surprise, he laughed.

The truth was, she had regained the strength to heal his injury days ago, yet, she had found herself reluctant to do so. She hadn't even realized how she had grown to enjoy his company, how he had filled the loneliness that had settled in her soul after all those years on the run from people like him. The time they had spent in the cabin, the moments they shared, had become something she had begun to cling to.

She knew this would not last, for he would kill her.

But, oh, how she was tired of running.

In the quiet, still darkness, she stood over him, her form bathed in shadows as she loomed over his sleeping figure. He lay vulnerable, defenseless against her presence, yet her actions were not sinister. She knelt beside the bed, her hands hovering over his wounded and broken leg. Then, she closed her eyes, her hands lowering gently onto his flesh, her touch soft and gentle.

He awakened with a strangled cry; his body drenched in torment as he bolted upright in the bed. The pain was all consuming, coursing through his core like a wildfire. His arms flailed, his hands seeking to grab the source of his suffering — her hands, which were still firmly pressed against his leg.

He gasped for breath, his vision hazy and unfocused as the pain overwhelmed his senses. He looked at her then, and saw the vitality slowly draining away from her as her own life force was transferred into him. He tried desperately to push her off, to break free from her grasp, but her hold was ironclad, her determination to heal him unyielding.

The pain, that all-consuming torment, finally yielded, giving way to a wave of bliss that washed over him. It was then, and only then, that her hands left his body, their touch gone as her body collapsed onto the floor beside the bed, the effort having robbed her of her strength once again.

She had braced herself for the inevitable, fully accepting that the moment Din stood on his own two feet, he would fulfill his objective and snuff the life from her. She lay there, weak and spent, knowing that she would not rise again, knowing that she had saved him at the cost of her own existence. And in her last moment of conscious thought, she found peace.

He rose from the bed, his leg no longer crippled and broken as he placed weight on it. There was no hint of discomfort or pain, as if the injury had never existed. He moved towards his belongings by the door and at the last moment, he paused, casting a brief glance in her direction, lying motionless on the floor. He grabbed the sword that leaned against the wall, the weight of the weapon familiar in his palm.

He moved closer, towering above her prone form on the floor. He hovered over her, his gaze fixed on her face. He raised his sword, the edge catching the light from the fire, the steel gleaming. He froze, his hand trembled slightly, the sword hovering above her vulnerable body, the silence stretching between them.

With a grunt, he raised the sword high above his head, muscles coiled tight. In one swift movement, he brought the blade down, the steel cutting through the air with a whistling sound. The sword met its target, driving deep into the wood of the floor, mere inches away from her head.

He let out a yell into the silence of the night, the sound a raw and primal thing, as he crumpled to his knees before the witch. The weight of his emotions was overpowering, the feeling of his heart being torn from his chest overwhelming him. He felt as if he was being unmade, as if everything that he was, everything that he believed, was being ripped away from him.

He was filled with a mixture of anger and frustration, his heart torn in two as the conflict raged within him. He loathed her for what she had done, for saving him, for making him question everything he knew.

Yet, despite his anger, he gently scooped her frail body off the floor and placed her within the bed she had healed him in, his hands tender and careful, everything he was not.

As she slowly stirred back to consciousness, the first thing she saw was him, sitting at her bedside. He was holding the book she had been reading, the one that had held her attention for days, his eyes focused on the words on the pages. She blinked a few times, her eyesight still adjusting as she watched him for a moment, confused and disoriented.

“You did not kill me?” she muttered.

The silence in the room hung heavy, broken only by the soft flutter of the pages as he continued to read. He did not look at her, his gaze fixed on the book in his hands, until her eyes started to flutter shut once more. Then, he spoke, his voice a soft rumble in the stillness of the room. "You are hard to kill, I'm afraid," his words spoken as a mere observation, his attention never left the pages in front of him.

As the days passed, he would carefully lift her from the bed and carry her outside, laying her gently in the soft grass. He would sit beside her, watching quietly as the earth healed her in ways he never could.

It was beautiful.

At first, the animals were hesitant to approach, wary of the man in their midst. But as the days went by, they began to join him in his vigil, taking their place beside him, silently keeping watch over their witch.

As he sat there, watching her sleep, a new creed formed in his heart. He vowed to himself that he would not allow any harm to befall her, for he would be there to protect her, to shield her from the harshness of the world. He would be her guardian, her defender, her champion, for as long as the world turned, and the stars continued to shine upon her.

For the first time in years, he felt the warm caress of sunlight on his face as he lowered the hood of his cloak. He sat there beside her, soaking up the rays of the sun as if it was the most natural thing in the universe. It was as if he was awakening from a long, dark sleep, the light chasing away the shadows that had clung to his soul for so long.

Din Djarin was a Witch Hunter no more, for how could he hurt something as beautiful and pure as her?

Notes

MY FIRST DIN FIC!!???? I have been so nervous to write anything to do with my beloved din because I just want to do him justice and star wars is so scary to write so, au it is.    When I say this has been in my WIP for three months now – I mean it. You can all thank the writing class I’m taking because it brought this back to life. Also I have been deathly ill with influenza A and my mum has been in the hospital with viral pneumonia, I have not had time to write until today, the first day in nine days that I have been able to get out of bed.

[hubbvrd]

number 45 with joe burrow please 💕💕

Surprise | Joe Burrow

summary — Moving house is not always stress-free. But despite the last few hard weeks, Joe makes sure to put a smile on your face with a surprise

pairing — joe burrow x reader

words — 1952

notes — thanks for your request. I hope you like it!!🧡

The last few weeks and months had been associated with a lot of stress and headaches.

Anyone who loved moving and said that it wasn't so bad and stressful was completely wrong.

For Joe and you, there had been nothing worse in the last few weeks and months than setting up your new home and packing moving boxes.

The countless hours spent in various furniture stores had been a lot of fun for you, but when it came to painting various walls and putting together all the countless pieces of furniture, there was the occasional argument between you out of sheer desperation.

However, you were able to resolve the small arguments about how you should place the furniture in the respective rooms fairly quickly, so that every small argument was resolved within a few minutes.

"This is finally the last one." Joe puts the last box down in the hallway before running his fingers through his completely disheveled hair.

"We've finally done it," you murmur with relief and hand Joe a bottle of water before sitting down on the step and catching your breath.

In the last two hours, you've moved countless boxes from your old home to your new home and dragged them inside, so you're more than sure you'll be feeling sore muscles for the next few days.

"Finally," Joe agrees as he sits down next to you on the step and you rest your head on his shoulder.

"And who's going to unpack all our stuff now?" you mumble tiredly as you look at the piles of boxes blocking the passage to the open-plan living and dining room.

"That's the question..." Joe takes a big gulp from his water bottle before running his fingers through his hair again and letting out a loud sigh.

The move is already pretty exhausting as it is, but then there's the hot weather, which has doubled the strain on your strength.

"How about we take a little break first? We rest and eat a little and then we'll take care of all the boxes?" Joe suggests after a few minutes of silence, which almost caused you to doze off any second.

"Sounds like a great plan. If I knew where my bikini was, I'd jump into the cold water first and inaugurate our new pool."

A highlight for you is definitely the large pool in the garden, where you can swim a few lengths undisturbed or simply float in the water with an inflatable swimming animal.

"Fortunately, I've made sure that we can easily get to our swimming gear.

With a proud smile on his lips, Joe lifts a bag in front of your nose, from which he pulls out your bikini and you jump for joy, shrieking softly around your boyfriend's neck.

"You don't know how much I love you."

You give Joe a kiss on the cheek and then pick up your bikini.

Joe gives you a soft laugh in response.

"Let's see who's in the pool first." He more or less challenges you and before you can answer, Joe has already disappeared into the bathroom to get changed.

"That's not fair! You started way too early!" you shout after him with a laugh and slowly get up from the stairs.

You can already feel the muscles in your arms and thighs starting to ache slightly and you probably won't be able to move without pain tomorrow.

But you don't really care about that right now, because the only thing that matters right now is the pool of your new garden, so you quickly change into your everyday clothes and then throw on your favorite bikini before grabbing your towel and running into the garden.

Your old garden was quite small and had hardly any space to do anything big in it, which wasn't the case at all in the new garden.

The new garden is almost three times the size of the old garden and offers so much space for countless possibilities that the huge green space is almost crying out to be filled with beautiful things.

Once the house is ready, Joe and you will get to work on the garden, for which your Pinterest board was already almost overflowing with countless different possibilities just waiting to be realized.

"Do you want to keep staring at the garden or finally join me in the pool?" Joe's voice pulls you back to the here and now.

Your boyfriend is already in the water, floating on his back through the water, looking so relaxed and rested that a smile spreads across your lips.

"The water's even nice and cold" he adds as he slowly stands up and swims over to the edge of the pool.

"Just what I need, then."

A smile forms on your lips as you walk across the warm lawn to the pool and then sit down at the edge and let your legs slide into the cold water.

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you begin to feel the cold water on your skin. Joe is right, despite the heat today, the water is incredibly pleasant, so you slide into the cool water without hesitation and then stand opposite Joe.

"I was telling the truth," he smiles, trying to tell you that he's not always pulling your leg like you accused him of a few days ago.

Because every now and then Joe loved to pull your leg, more or less.

Just yesterday he tried to convince you to watch a movie that wasn't even supposed to be scary. But in the end, you were so creeped out that you had to bury your face in Joe's shirt for the rest of the movie.

"This time, but who knows when you won't. I think you like to tease me, Burrow, and that's not fair."

You splash a little water on his face, which only makes the person opposite you start to laugh quietly.

"Lie. I would never do this. How could I?" he replies with a laugh and a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"You're such a liar," you pout lightly as you swim towards him and then cling to him, trying to somehow push him under the water, which turns out not to be too easy.

Joe is standing so firmly that you barely manage to move him even an inch.

A resounding laugh rings out above you, which only makes you pout even more.

"That's not fair."

"Oh, y/n. You really are incredibly cute." amused, Joe presses a gentle kiss to your forehead as he wraps his arms tightly around you and starts to swim off with you.

"I'll probably have to eat the whole pizza by myself today so that I can push you under the water tomorrow," you reply with a shrug and a big grin on your lips, to which Joe just rolls his eyes.

"How much time do we have until the pizza arrives?"

After you had put on your bikini, you ordered pizza for both of you via a delivery service so that you didn't have to cook anything or drive out to get something to eat.

"About another thirty minutes."

"That's enough." In one swift movement, Joe lifts you out of the pool and climbs out after you.

"Hey, we haven't been in the pool long," you pout again as Joe puts the towel around your shoulders and you snuggle up in it.

"We still have enough time for this in the coming weeks, months and years."

You watch Joe as he also puts a towel around his shoulders before holding out his hand to you with the words "Follow me, I have a suprise for you"

"A surprise? I love surprises!" you exclaim in anticipation as you take Joe's hand in yours and another soft laugh comes from Joe's direction.

"I know that. That's why I love giving you surprises." Joe squeezes your hand gently before walking with you across the lawn to the small hut at the end of the garden.

In fact, it wasn't exactly rare for Joe to give you a surprise.

He often brought you flowers, your favorite sweets or ice cream after training or after a game.

He also often took you out to dinner or on other romantic dates.

Joe's romantic side was one of the many reasons you fell in love with the Bengals quarterback.

"Do you want to show me all the big, nasty spiders in the cabin?" you ask with a slightly contorted face as you start to think back to the day of the tour.

Because on the day you first visited your dream house and were blown away by it, the hut more or less disgusted you.

Because the huge mess, which was accompanied by countless spiders and cobwebs in the hut, had already given you a big stomach ache during the viewing, so that you were already dreading having to clear this hut of all the spiders and cobwebs one day and then clean it out.

"No, don't worry," Joe assures you as you stop in front of the hut, which now has a new coat of white paint and no longer shows the hideous peeling paint, and Joe takes out the keys.

Outside the windows of the hut you can see white curtains that hadn't been there before.

Before you can even ask Joe why the cabin has curtains, Joe opens the door and gently pushes you inside and what you see inside leaves you open-mouthed.

The walls are lined with countless white bookshelves that reach up to the ceiling. There is a ladder on the shelves, which ensures that you can easily reach the top shelves.

All your books have found their place on the shelves and despite all this, there are still countless free compartments for more new books.

There is also a cozy armchair for reading, a matching stool, lots of fairy lights and lamps, as well as a rug that makes the room even cozier.

"Wow..." you stammer, overwhelmed, as you slowly turn in a circle, trying to take in every corner of the room.

Joe stands in the doorway and watches you with a broad smile as tears slowly well up in your eyes and you look over at him, moved.

"Surprise," he whispers as you cross the room in three long strides and fall into your boyfriend's arms as sobs escape you.

"Thank you, darling," you whisper, sobbing into his chest as he wraps his arms around you and hugs you gently.

"I thought this hut was perfect for your reading room. Here you can read undisturbed and run your book blog and all your other book channels."

"It really is. You don't know how much this means to me, thanks Joe." You slowly lift your gaze and look into your boyfriend's shining eyes.

"I was happy to do that, y/n. It's incredibly important to me that you have your own four walls where you can pursue your passion and since our house isn't really finished yet, it was important to me that this room is finished first and that you have it so that you can retreat and immerse yourself in the world of books."

Joe's words cause countless tears to start rolling down your cheeks.

You can't put into words how touched you are by his words and his surprise, so you whisper a quiet "Thank you" and then press your lips to Joe's.

And you realize once again how much you love Joe. And how grateful you are that he is by your side and that you are the one who gets to wake up by his side every day.

[just-a-ghost00]

Channeled messages from your divine counterpart's higher self.

Images were found on Pinterest. In this reading, I have used several oracles, including one I made myself. This oracle provides us with songs that may hold significant messages for us. You may want to listen to the songs as you are reading the channeled messages or add them to your playlist.

Group 1

Songs : Sweater weather - The Neighbourhood, MIA - Bad Bunny feat Drake, Find me - SIGMA feat Birdy Merlin oracle :

Everything is fine. Don't worry.

Guinevra Queen of Arthur - There is no king without a queen : you need both feminine and masculine. Combine your thinking, your sensitivity and creativity to your decision making skills and your actions. It is in this fair and balanced union that fruitful projects are birthed.

The power of mischief - Laugh, laugh and laugh : If life is being tricky, laugh with it. If it is burlesque, make fun of it. If it is cynical, fuck with it. Facing it's provoking, remember that the more time goes by, the less it will matter. So laugh it off!

Cavansite - Expand your consciousness. Tourmalined quartz - Restore your perfect light. Copper - Energize your whole world. Spirit animals : Arctic fox, black cat, white shark Key words : being your true self, leaving behind old beliefs, noticing the toxic patterns in and around you, spirituality, intuition, mystery, Bangchan stan

I know you are trying to reach me. I can feel you in the air I breathe, on the tip of my tongue whenever I wake up from a (wet) dream. I know you wish to find me sooner than later. That you long for me as much as I long for you. But the universe has other plans. And I'm too busy anyway. I know it's a harsh thing to say considering all the love you have for me. Believe me, I couldn't be any happier to have you as my forever after. My partner in crime. But right now isn't the time. I have so much left to do. So many things to cleanse and dust off. I cannot hold space for you, no matter how much I wish you were in my life. Yes, it's painful. Yes, I think about us every day. Yes, I want you more than anything in the world. But there are surely more interesting things for you to do than to worry about my whereabouts and my well being. I don't want you to lose sleep over me. I don't want you to deprive yourself of good times, opportunities, love for me. I want you to live. To experiment. To have fun. I want you to be the soul everyone talks about. The heart of the party. The sunshine that doesn't need anyone to radiate their light. I don't want you to wait for me in vain. I don't want to be a burden to you. I know deep in my soul that if we both give our best and be present for the things and people that matter to us, that if we both deliver then surely our paths will cross. I know deep in my heart that all paths lead to you. And I want you to believe that too. There is no such thing as making the wrong turn. So please don't reject anyone or anything just because you think I wouldn't like it. Live your life. Speak your truth. Be you. And love yourself just as much as I love you. Talk to you later. *sends spiritual hug*

Group 2

Songs : At my worst - Pink Sweats, Life goes on - AGUSTD, 3:00 AM - Finding Hope Spirit animals : Scarab, Scorpio, Dragon

Serpentine - Awaken your reptilian nature. Celestite - Tune in to your serenity. Kunzite - Open up your love channel.

Merlin oracle :

Once upon a time, Merlin - Raise your potential : You were born with considerable internal resources. Honor the gifts that were passed down to you. Raise your potential and embrace from now on what you were destined to be. You have all that is needed to succeed!

King Uther Pendragon - Serve what is dear to your heart : if you have rights, you also have duties. By honoring them, you will earn respect and love from those whom you hold dear. Ask yourself what you duties are in this situation and you shall know what to do.

Pixies spell - Let go : If you're feeling lost, discover new horizons. Keep your mind busy with light occupations to ward off worries. Letting go is the best way to find your way back.

The round table - There is no Grand or Little man : you are as respectable, capable, important as any other being. You are important to the fates that intertwine to create new stories. Dare to act, express, fight for and honor. Show what you are made of.

Keywords : Seonghwa stan, animal crossing, showing your true colors, arthurian legends, mythology nerd, heaven on earth

This time again I had a dream. A dream where someone or something took you away from me. When I looked deeper, I saw my reflection in the eyes of the beast. And I understood that the only thing keeping me away from you was myself. I am scared to death. Scared that you won't love me for who I am. I'm afraid that my anger and my fire will burn you. I am not an easy person to be with. More than once, I have disappointed people around me. I disappointed myself. I'm afraid that I can't make you happy and give you the love and respect you deserve. You are like royalty. And I feel like a mere peasant. I'm afraid I have nothing much to bring to the table. I fear that I will dim your light instead of protecting and enhancing it. All kings have a queen. But if I'm a peasant, how could I ever dream to stand by your side? How could I ever raise to your level? I feel like there are worlds between us and terrible beasts to be slain before I can ever get to you. The journey ahead seems frightening. And I don't know where it will lead. If the path were to take me through hell only to make me lose you, I would never be able to forgive myself. I would never recover. So please, don't break my heart. And if you can, save yourself. Don't burn your wings trying to get me out of the well I fell in. Promise?

Group 3

Songs : My Power - Beyoncé, Comflex - Stray Kids, Don't go yet - Camilla Cabello Spirit animals : arctic fox, sea turtle, scorpion

Jet - Claim your space. Bismuth - Rewrite your code with rainbows. Sodalite - Deepen your intuition.

Keywords : Changbin and LeeKnow stans, self worth, body image issues, speaking your truth, destiny, intensity, blues, mental wellness, Blue Monday, Jutdae, Black Panther

Merlin oracle :

Arthur's fate - Be the hero of your own destiny.

The power of authenticity - Go beyond appearances.

The power of mischief - Laugh, laugh and laugh!

I feel so lucky to have you in my life. When I think of you, my heart lightens up because I know how special you are. You bow to no one and yet, somehow, you chose to let me in. You chose to trust me when no one would. To believe in me when all abandoned me. Surely, you must be a wizard or some deity. An angel maybe. Because never would I have ever thought that someone would care about me so deeply. I have never met someone like you. Someone so brave and powerful, so loving and kind, generous, fierce and loyal to a fault. I'm so addicted to you. In your energy, I feel safe and protected. I'm usually the kind to appear strong and fight for the people I love. But with you, I feel like I can be myself and let my guards down. With you, I know I will never be judged. I know I can be vulnerable without fearing that you'll stab me in the back. People have done that to me before, you know? But I know you would never. I trust you with my life. I can't wait to meet you. Where you at? What you up to? Do you miss me? Cause I sure as hell do. I want you all to myself. I know you are my destiny. Let's have fun together, shall we? I love you to the moon and back. Don't you dare forget me! Oh and no matter what you think, you are amazing. Don't let people bring you down, sunshine.

[writingwithcolor]

Thanksgiving/Day of Mourning

Last year, I made a very quick, basic post about thanksgiving: Indigenous Day of Mourning aka Thanksgiving. if you want the sources for what I’m about to say, check there.

This post will be about why you cannot just go “fuck the pilgrims, we deserve a harvest festival no matter the origin” or anything else that tries to sanitize the holiday.

You Are Still On Stolen Land

As a result, you are still actively profiting off the genocide the pilgrims committed.

I don’t care how educated about racial issues you profess you are. I don’t care how you behave the other 364 days of the year. If you try to distance yourself from the origins of Thanksgiving simply because it makes you uncomfortable to see the blood under the tablecloth, you’re not practised in sitting with actually being anti-racist. You know what to say, but you don’t practice what you preach.

You Are Eating Our Food

Pumpkins/squash, beans, turkey, cranberries, potatoes, corn, sweet potatoes, pecans, maple syrup?

Those are all Native American foods that we taught you how to grow and harvest.

You wouldn’t have any of your traditional Thanksgiving foods without us. The ideal meal of Thanksgiving is ripped right from Indigenous practices and cannot be separated from it.

The fact that these foods have been taken out of Indigenous hands and appropriated by colonizers as the bounties they somehow deserve for landing here is a tragedy, and people need to remember where their food comes from and who had been growing it for thousands of years.

You Had So Much Because Of Massacre

Thanksgiving became an annual tradition after 700 Pequot men, women, children, and elders were killed, freeing up acres of land that colonizers promptly took over. The sheer amount of extra acreage that colonizers had because of their genocide contributed to the excess of food experienced during Thanksgiving. That land had been structured to support more people originally.

Colonizers had never, ever, deserved that much food. They were taking more than they needed, not leaving much behind for the animals that depended on a balance to be held with humans. They took far more than was needed, throwing the balance off in nature.

Maybe I’m reaching. But I think that if you suddenly had 700 less people in the area, after all of the growing and planting for the total population had been done, you’d have excess food? Or even before the growing, you’d have land set up to support 700, that I’d assume you’d still use, when you were a much smaller population?

Sit With Your Own Grief

If this makes you feel bad and that you shouldn’t celebrate Thanksgiving? Sit with that.

I’m not telling you that you have to give up Thanksgiving traditions. I’m telling you that you cannot divorce them from Indigenous people.

You are giving thanks for our massacre. You are giving thanks for stealing so much from us that you had this excess.

Yes, you can need a break; yes, you can need time with family and friends. None of this is inherently bad.

It’s not even bad to eat local food from Turtle Island! Part of having a sustainable diet is eating locally, in time with the seasons.

But remember, it is Indigenous people who first gave this to you—and then you stole far more than you ever needed from us, killing us to get what you felt you deserved.

Do not divorce Thanksgiving from Indigenous people for your own comfort.

We are still here. We must live with the aftermath of colonizers stealing from us every single day.

If you feel this way hearing about our history, imagine what we feel like living it.

Donate to a local org/Indigenous person this Thanksgiving

I (again) don’t have the spoons to compile a list of vetted charities, but look for local tribe language revival programs, COVID relief funds, and activism around the Indian Child Welfare Act currently in front of the Supreme Court.

Pay reparations for what you have taken, and remember. It is also Indigenous Day of Mourning.

Indigenous people, drop your links below.

~Lesya

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Blewbird Debut: Super Mario Bros. Wonder

Blewbird is weird. I mean, no duh, it's being featured on "Weird Mario Enemies," even if our blog title gets less and less fitting by the day, but I mean weirder than you'd realize by just looking at it at a glance. If you just take a quick glance at it, you might not think much of it -- just a stylized cartoon bluebird, reminiscent of The Artist Formerly Known As Twitter.

But then you look at it more closely, notice things like its black shell and brown shoes. How weirdly smooth its skin is, without even the suggestion of feathers. The fact it doesn't have wings at all. The fact these things burrow out of the ground.

Oh, and let's not forget the fact they shoot off their own beaks!

Yeah, let's not ignore the main hook of the enemy here! Blewbirds predominantly appear in the level Blewbird Roost, where they'll stand against walls and shoot out their beaks at Mario and Friends. Of course, usually their beaks end up sticking to walls across from them...

And unfurling into platforms! That's right! Blewbirds are an animal that evolved to create Platforming Challenges! Is this how they traverse all the open air in the caves they live in without wings? It's not like they can burrow everywhere!

So whatever Blewbirds are, I'm pretty sure they're not birds. Blewbirds are birds in the sense that jellyfish are fish. (A comparison I'm pretty sure I've made multiple times on the blog at this point.) But if they aren't birds, then what are they? Well, let's take another look at Blewbird without its beak...

Does it remind you of anything...?

Because it reminds me of Birdo, another character who's named after a bird for no particularly good reason whatsoever! Almost like it's all connected... But I mean, the similarities are hard to ignore -- the tube mouth optimized for shooting projectiles, the white underbelly, the weirdly smooth skin, heck, you could probably make the very bold argument that Blewbird's ponytail and Birdo's bow are connected somehow.

But wait! I'm not ending things right there, because Blewbird doesn't only have similarities to Birdo...

You see, Nintendo has connected the Birdos and Yoshis for a while now, as Mario's main Weird Dinosaur Characters, but there hasn't been an awful lot actually connecting them in-universe... until now?! For you see, I'm making the radical claim that Blewbirds are proof of a missing link species that connects the Yoshis and Birdos! Look at it! The tube mouth of Birdo. The shell and shoes of Yoshi. It's all so clear now!

Blewbirds aren't birds! They're some sort of weird dinosaur! Just like... just like... just like real birds. Hmm.

Maybe I need to rethink the point I was making with this post. Taxonomy is weird, guys.

*phone ringing*

Oh! Hold on, I need to answer that. Hello?

Hmmm... as a matter of fact, I think I am! I spent so much time talking about Yoshis and Birdos that I forgot to do this: *touches Wonder Flower to trigger Wonder Effect for the post*

During Blewbird Roost's Wonder Effect, Blewbirds will start blowing very large, very colorful bubbles! Your character can bounce on these bubbles to go *Pauline voice* ♪ High up in the sky~! ♪, but you need to be careful, since each bubble pops when you jump on it! The number of Blewbirds in the Blewbird Roost doesn't make that much of an issue, but in a Special World level where you're a Goomba who can hardly jump at all? Well... Good Luck!

That being said, this raises even more questions about Blewbird anatomy, because they blow these bubbles out of their beaks! You know, the ones they shoot off that, as far as I'm aware, aren't even part of their bodies? And in order to blow bubbles out of their beak, their mouth has been moved to the end of it! What is going on here?!

I'm not sure, but I can try to provide a relatable human analogy! Imagine if you put a Cone in your mouth, but someone nearby touched a Wonder Flower, so the Cone fused to your face and the mouth was at the end of the Cone, and you were very scared about this development so you tried to scream but only bubbles came out. We've all been there! And for the Blewbird, it's exactly like this. Hopefully now you understand!

[fortunxa]

Just come home

Jinx x fem!reader / modern AU

summary: In a mix of alcohol and jealousy, heartbreaks can get confusing.

author’s note: Hi!! Firstly, thank you for all the love on my ‘Blue hair, blue eyes, blue lights’ one-shot ᥫ᭡ Secondly, it’s not a one-shot anymore—the sequel is officially in the drafts!! Lastly, I just hope you guys enjoy this post as much as you did my first :)

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I stand in the corner of a smoke-filled living room, the smell of cheap alcohol and sweat already buried deep inside my nostrils. The red light illuminating the space makes me feel as though I’ve entered a brothel. I might as well have with the amount of grinding and hooking up going on. Truthfully, I had no business being here other than keeping my word to my friends to join them at the next party. But, as far as I know, they are currently scattered between playing at the beer pong table and blacking out in the garden, leaving me to fend for myself.

None of this matters. My gaze is shamelessly focused on her.

I know knew the taste of her black honey lipstick too well. Her freckled shoulders supported the weight of my legs many, many times, and her fruity scent still lingers on my bedsheets no matter how many times I wash them. I felt each curve of her body and counted each scar. Most importantly, I knew the way her mind worked and knew that her abandonment issues were to blame for our breakup. ‘Leave you before you leave me’ mindset.

Now, I’m forced to watch as she drapes a random girl’s legs over her lap, her slender fingers tracing lazy circles on the stranger’s knee. My grip tightens around the glass of whisky that I’m holding, and I swiftly knock it back. The burning taste makes me grimace, but not as much as the unfolding scene. I make my way into the open kitchen, grabbing a bottle of vodka as I line up three shots. Each has its turn sliding down my esophagus before a feminine voice comes from behind me.

“Look at you! Party animal or rough night?” The redhead approaches me, her shoulder brushing mine as she cocks her head to the side. “If it’s the latter, I could help you with that. My name is–” I stop listening. Her suggestive tone is evident as she smiles at me with hooded eyes, and I give her a once-over. Her green two-piece outfit accentuates her figure, her long legs and abstract flower thigh tattoo on display. She is attractive, don’t get me wrong, but I couldn’t care less. I already know who I want, and her name is Jinx. Powder, if you know her well enough. If there is even the slightest chance that she wants me back, I would never want to feed into her insecurities by pulling a one-night stand; right in front of her, nonetheless. Although her own flirty nature never diluted, I just couldn’t bring myself to act the way she did.

“Not interested,” I reply, indifferent to her attempt at flirting. The nameless girl lets out an exaggerated sigh, tracing her fingers down my forearm.

“I’ll be around if you change your mind.” She sends me a wink, and I nod absentmindedly. My eyes track the red-headed girl to ensure she's gone, and I notice a certain someone doing the same.

Jinx’s jaw is clenched as her gaze hardens. I watch as she unconsciously digs her nails into her plaything’s leg, making her hiss in pain. But, once the blue-haired girl’s angry eyes meet my curious ones for the first time in over a month, her demeanor shifts instantly; she relaxes, turning her attention back to the blonde bombshell. I see them exchange a few words, and my heart drops when Jinx hunches over to place a kiss on the wound. Oh, that was low. I whip around and reach for the bottle of vodka again—time to drink fast until my brain moves slow, and hopefully erases that nauseating scene from my mind. I skip the shot glasses and take two considerable gulps. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and look around the kitchen; it’s just me, an abundance of liquor, and a heavy lack of chasers.

I start feeling the needed buzz as my body grows hotter, and I grip the counter with a dumb smile playing on my lips. I decide to get high on my lows and stumble to the dance floor, where other sweaty bodies are already swaying to the sultry song playing from the DJ’s booth—also known as ‘the guy whose phone is currently connected to the speaker’.

I’m dancing like it’s my last night alive, each move bolder than the previous. My hands roam over my body as I let it go free to the music. The atmosphere feels suffocating in the best way possible; it almost makes me forget my heartbreak. Almost. What it is making me forget, though, is the impending hangover. I lose track of time, but my tingling limbs are telling me that the copious amount of alcohol I’ve consumed is still doing its job, and that’s enough for me.

A familiar pair of hands suddenly grabs my hips from behind, and I’m immediately transported to cloud nine. I press my back further into Jinx’s chest as her head dips into the crook of my neck, and I let out a content hum. My eyes flutter shut from the sensation, but once the spinning room feeling intensifies, I’m forced to open them again.

“You’re not pulling away,” she murmurs in my ear, a mix of surprise and relief in her voice as she matches my rhythm.

“Should I?” I ask breathlessly while reaching to place my hand on the back of her head. Her hair is still as soft as I remember.

“How would you know who’s coming up behind you?” Her raspy voice sends shivers down my spine. I let out a brief chuckle and continue swaying my hips.

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t recognize those hands.” She falls silent, and I take the opportunity to rest my head on her shoulder.

“Quite a show you were putting on, trinket,” she speaks up, and her grip on me tightens while my stomach flips at the old pet name. “Thought I’d have to start gouging people’s eyes out.”

“Oh yeah?” She nods. “Surprised you even noticed through blondie’s affection. Wasn’t my leg you were kissing back there, I’ll tell you that much.”

Jinx stiffens but does not dare retort, and I finally decide to turn around. My glossy eyes meet her blue, sad ones; despite it all, a pang of guilt hits me. I snake my arms around her neck as hers move to my waist. Her motions seem much less confident now.

“Hey, you have your flings, and I have my alcohol. We cope how we cope,” I cheer up, or at least try to in my drunken, tactless state. “We’re all good. I never blamed you.”

“But you should,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper as her gaze falls to the floor covered in spilled drinks. Her face contorts, and I can practically hear the negative thoughts filling her head. Watching her in this state breaks my heart even more. I use my pointer finger to make her look at me, and I recognize the war in her eyes.

“I still love you, Jinx,” I confess, and her eyebrows knit together at the stray tear rolling down my flushed cheek. She doesn’t hesitate to wipe it off. “Just… Tell me you love me, too.” She’s silent, but not for long.

“Who told you I stopped?”

Her lips crash against mine with passion as her hands cup my face. She still tastes like candy, and she’s still my Jinx. When her tongue asks for entrance, I don’t deny it. Sweet saliva mixes with salty tears, and it takes this one kiss to communicate all of our intense feelings. The sheer intimacy that I had missed so deeply makes me sob into her mouth, and she pulls me closer. I needed more of her, all of her, and I needed it forever. But the need for air becomes too great, and I reluctantly pull away. I rest my forehead against hers, our chests moving up and down rapidly.

“Just come back to me,” I plead as my hand falls to the baby-blue clouds on her bicep. “Come home.”

Her eyes are full of adoration, and she captures my lips again—much gentler this time as if I were precious china, and one wrong move would break me. Although, in her eyes, I very well could be.

“Always.”

[b1asho]

Species number two: Rossetians!!

Rossetians are a mid-sized species that evolved in an area roughly the size of Europe, and have less extreme regional differences than other species, usually only having some vatiation in skin pattern, color, and snout shape.

They aren’t exactly adapted to live in water, but there were enough water obstacles around that they developed some useful traits like nostrils in the top of their head and semi-webbed hooves.

Their skin is thick, dry and rough, closer to scales. This bars moisture from coming in and leaving. The only place they have hairlike structures is in/around the pouch/genitals for oil secretion and for neonates to pull on to drag themselves into the pouch after birth (meaning they see hair as private and even lewd).

they use their heat-sensitive nose pits and sensitive pronged tongue to navigate low visibility places like tunnels and dense vegetation, and also to locate food and other resources that are hidden in crevices.

Their tongue in particular replaces their sense of smell, and is able to detect minute chemical changes in the air. It’s pretty long, and slides back into a hole a bit in their mouth/throat when closed.

They also use their four wide set eyes to scan more open areas, and while they have good close and far vision, they cant see in the dark and have poor color vision.

Rossetians share our iron based blood, using a large molecule that is contained in cells. It retains oxygen for much longer and in higher quantities (closer to erythrocruorin in size and effectiveness.) it is a very dark red when not oxygenated and turns a much brighter red shade than human blood when exposed to oxygen.

It is very very stable, can operate at a wide range of temperatures, and helps them manage in oxygen scarce environments between the pockets of oxygen in their tunnels (however, they can’t tolerate low oxygen for long, and need warm temperatures and abundant oxygen function well).

The high quantities of oxygen their blood can carry helped fuel them when fleeing predators, but at other times the large size of the molecule means that it takes a lot of energy to pump it around fast, and it already brings a lot of oxygen per molecule, so normally they have a slow heartbeat and metabolism. It also has anti-inflammatory properties, all of these things potentially leading to their longer natural lifespans.

This iron based blood developed because their environment was very heavy in metals, particularly iron. There were also a lot of other toxins just hanging around in the air, water, and soil. They have a very strong liver and other specialized glands and processes to help them metabolize and expel metals that they take in, it they can tolerate a lot more metals in their body than a human could (they’re very hard to kill via poison, toxin exposure, or drugs) . they actually incorporated it into more of their body (namely their horns and teeth, and for coloration of skin). Like limpets, they have metal in their teeth, making them extremely hard and strong (used for scraping off algae, moss, and lichens from rocks and crushing nuts and tubers) this also partially accounts for the color of the teeth, though some still have white teeth due to less pigmentation. Their colors vary less due to sun exposure and more due to the content of elements around them.

Rossetians were originally prey animals, with their horn and extremely thick skin/fat layer being their main protection from predators. (through selection over the years, their horns have become a bit more ornamental, though they’re still plenty sharp). They developed sapience due to their overkill sensory prowess, letting them spend less time scanning and more time thinking. Eventually, this combined with their cooperative herd structure/domestication of food sources to advance their intelligence to modern day.

As herbivores, they eat predominantly plant matter, though some also consume dairy due to a similar “lactose tolerance” mutation as humans for the taste and nutrients. They eat small and frequent meals for steadier energy to make up for their slow metabolism.

They are endotherms, though mainly due to their thick fat and skin layer helping them to trap heat. Without this, they aren't nearly as good as humans at regulating their own temperature, though they can still shiver and pant to try and regulate (they cant sweat).

They have a total of 6 teeth, two in the front and four molars in the back.

Their food tends to be boiled or otherwise processed in some way to make it easier to get energy and nutrients faster with their otherwise slow metabolism (so they can stay on the go for busy city life)

They are viviparous and can reproduce any time of the year like humans, but they lack a true placenta. infants instead develop in a pouch of skin on the mother where they drink milk.

Their pouch opens like an American opossum, and their children will stay in and out of it for a while even a little after they’ve been weaned (eventually, they get too big.) They stay in there for the first year or so, and will then start exploring outside in their ‘toddler’ stage before eventually being able to walk on their own.

They have a centaur-esque body plan that allowed them to free up a front set of arms and support brain development while also being able to lower themselves to the height needed to navigate the volcanic tunnels they lived in and move quickly. The only important thing in their front "torso" region is a small cluster of nerves that helps handle some of their sensory information.

4 of their 6 limbs are for walking while the front 2 specialized for object manipulation, with the two digits on the sides slightly turned inwards and able to be used almost like thumbs. None of them are very good for gripping since climbing wasn’t part of their evolutionary history (though all of them are also slightly webbed, especially the back ones, since swimming was helpful to them in their environment)

Their soft lips and similarly shaped mouth make it very easy for them to replicate human language, though their tongue and teeth sometimes get in the way (and makes it harder for humans to speak their language, since some noises require the use of two or four prongs of the tongue at once).

They can see a color spectrum similar to horses or deer on earth, which is why their clothing is often dull or monochrome besides the stitched patterns. However, since it was useful for them to be able to see some color variation to tell if a plant was poisonous or not, they can see reds/greens a bit better than Prectikar, who have a similar colorblindess range.

While they can't see red, they still incorporate it into their clothing since to them it registers as a nice green to accent the blue and yellow. To us, it looks red.

They have very homogeneous cultural traits because for much of their history, they have valued unity and have been joined together under one Empire or another (most recently, the same guys who got to the Prectikar). However, similar to cultures across, say the British isle, they still have unique quirks from their regional heritage.

Males have a horn with a unicorn-like front spike and a considerably longer tail, while females lack the horn projection and also have a pouch. Unlike other species, they actually have similar sex and gender roles as human men and women, though a bit more pronounced than current humans due to their society’s particular emphasis on family units in politics and economics.

They also have stricter nudity and propriety standards year round, with traditional conservatives barely showing anything more than their face out in public.

They show marriage through pierced ears. They typically have one partner for life.

Most of their clothing is heavily layered with lots of dresses and cloaks to give them a feeling of security when in public, like a weighted blanket or something to cover their shape so they feel less exposed. Many also cover their sensitive ears when in crowded spaces.

Most of their brain is in their head, but they have 2 smaller clusters to help deal with other sensory information and leave more room for thinking in the main brain. The clusters are located between their front arms (protected by the larger vertebrae and collarbone/shoulder blade their arms connect to up there) and their pelvic girdle.

When interacting with other species, they are known to be very timid and insular among themselves. Unfortunately, xenophobia has a very literal meaning to them since most other species have traits that they instinctively find unsettling as former prey animals, like sharp teeth and claws (similar to what happens when you see a snake or spider, even if you know it won’t or can’t hurt you most people still feel fear). Without proper socialization for both parties, things can get awkward very fast.

[pkmnprofloblolly]

Hello! Trainer from Alola here, big fan of your work. I was wondering; is there any evidence of any legendary pokemon being related to other pokemon? For example, does Rayquaza share any DNA with other dragon pokemon? (I know it would be extremely difficult to get any rayquaza DNA fhshfjd) Or are pokemon like that entirely their own species?

the answer is, as with many things on this blog.. it depends!

"legendary pokemon" aren't really a cohesive category like, say, a type or a taxonomic group. the only common factors are that they tend to be very rare and that they have legends about them. as our examples, let's use two groups of hoenn legendary pokemon: latios and latias, and groudon, kyogre, and rayquaza.

latios and latias (like other pairs such as nidoqueen and nidoking, or volbeat and illumise, latios and latias are sexually dimorphic members of the same species) are indeed related to other pokemon- they're birds! specifically, they're in the auk family, which are a group of generally stout, seafaring birds like guillemots and puffins. this may seem strange- the latis appear to have wings and arms, and no legs, very unlike birds. however, if we take a look at their skeleton, the connection becomes much more obvious:

what we generally interpret as arms are actually the lati's legs, the thighs of which are obscured by flesh and feathers. while they use their wings to steer and for some lift, the latis generally stay aloft with their psychic powers rather than traditional flight, which is why they can hover in place. this has freed up their legs for use in manipulating objects, and they are rarely seen standing on their feet. because they mostly rely on hovering, their legs no longer have the strength to hold their large bodies up for very long.

these pokemon are indeed exceptionally rare, having very low population numbers in only a few regions, and spending most of their time over open ocean. like many pelagic seabirds, they breed on only a few small islands, like alto mare off the johto region and southern island off hoenn's south coast. their populations are on the upswing, though, in large part due to concentrated conservation efforts on those islands. point being, though, they are indeed just animals. rare, powerful animals, but animals nonetheless.

many legendary pokemon fall into this camp. articuno, zapdos, and moltres, lugia and ho-oh, heatran, and various others.

.

conversely, the so-called weather trio of hoenn: groudon, kyogre, and rayquaza. these three are even more rarely seen than the latis, only having been sighted in recent times during their clash in hoenn nearly two decades ago. despite the three's resemblance to other living pokemon, as far as we know they are entirely unrelated to any known animals, or even any other life on earth.

this is known because evidence of these pokemon have been found dating back over 3 billion years ago, that is to say over a billion years before multicellular life even existed. gigantic fragments of footprints attributed to groudon have been sighted alongside some of the earliest fossils we know of of early bacteria. modern physical samples from these pokemon- the extremely few that have ever been recovered- have never resulted in any dna evidence, and appear in structure much more similar to inorganic matter.

as it stands, it appears these pokemon arose some time early (relatively speaking) after the earth formed, being (as opposed to natural living organisms) animate representations of the forces of nature themselves. a similar condition is often assumed for some other grandiose legendary pokemon, such as dialga and palkia, though much less tangible evidence exists for their presence in prehistoric time, so this is mostly an assumption based on their infrequent appearances & legends surrounding their origins.

[slasher-male-wife]

Tis the season: Lestat De Lion Court and Louis De Pointe Du Lac X reader

This is a silly little thing I wrote for the holidays. Sorry for barely posting, I got a new job and I've been busy.

Warnings: None I can think of

“You seriously bought a Christmas tree this year?” Lestat asks Louis, his arms folded over his chest. You’re in the other room, working on gathering out the decorations for the tree while the two of them bicker over this.

“It’s not like we don’t have the money to do this for them. I know you think it’s a waste of space and just, stupid in general but you have to understand that they’re still human and humans like to celebrate things. They don’t live as long as we do, so let’s let them enjoy this.” Louis retorts to him, shaking his head slightly. Lestat rolls his eyes and huffs a breath through his nose. 

“If we had already turned them then this wouldn’t be an issue. I don’t see why you care so much about them staying human for as long as possible. We could preserve their youth, Louis. They can have the choice I never had.” Lestat exclaims, hearing your footsteps sounding from the other room. 

You walk back in, holding a box of ornaments and beaming proudly. Louis smiles at you but Lestat doesn’t even try to hide his annoyance at Louis. 

“Some of these were from my family. I can’t wait to celebrate Christmas with the two of you this year.” You say, setting down the box on a table and taking out a few ornaments. Louis nods and gives Lestat a quick glare before he walks over and takes out a few ornaments too. 

“I’m very happy to celebrate with you this year too Y/N. I can’t wait to see what this season has to offer us.” Louis says, hanging a few ornaments on the tree. Lestat just stands and watches the two of you decorate the tree. 

“I don’t exactly see a point in celebrating this year, after you turn-” 

“If they turn.” Louis corrects. 

“Time won’t matter much and celebrating things will be less of an important ordeal to you. If you ask me, this whole thing is just excessive.” Lestat says with a wave of his hand. 

“Since when have you had an issue with things being excessive?” You ask, looking over at him as you gather more ornaments to put on the tree. Louis chuckles and Lestat suppresses a smile. 

“Well humans do have a limited time here on earth and it’s important to us to celebrate things while we can. It’s fun to decorate for seasons and maybe be a little ‘excessive’ with our celebrating. You too were human once Lestat. You should understand what it’s like to want to celebrate the small things in the world.” 

“Always so dramatic.” Lestat says dismissively as he walks over to the chase and takes a seat, watching you and Louis decorate the tree together.

“Do you remember when you used to celebrate Christmas?” You ask. Louis thinks for a moment as he hangs up more ornaments on the tree.

“Not exactly. I do remember a good amount of my life but I don’t exactly remember every detail about my Christmas as a human.” 

“Oh he’s so resistant to change I thought he’d die the first year he was a vampire,” Lestat says, stretching his arms across the couch in a flamboyant fashion, “You have to understand it took Louis decades before he would even drink fully from a human. He lived off rats and various animals, and I’m the dramatic one.” He says sarcastically. 

You chuckle and Louis gives Lestat a look. You don’t get too involved in their bickering, you much prefer to watch them bicker back and forth rather than actually engage with it. Despite their bickering back and forth, it still feels like a great Christmas season.

[ryukenzz]

Muzan Kibutsuji - SFW & NSFW Headcanons

[Note: Relationship Headcanons of Muzan Kibutsuji from Demon Slayer. Reader will be human and a regular citizen for this scenario. Will contain NSFW and slight manga spoilers (just one) so minors/anime-onlys, please do not interact.]

SFW:

Oooooo wee. Mr. Grumpy for a Living himself. Being in a relationship with Muzan can be.... interesting. It can be a lot of things. He can act "generous" and spoil you like a princess or just outright mean as hell. Either way, you'll be treated more as a pet/prized possession than an actual partner.

Muzan, or Tsukihiko, first met you while he was on a stroll with his beloved "wife and daughter." You were minding your business, and the demon just couldn't keep his eyes off you. Of course, the demon chastised himself for even looking at anyone like that, much less a mere human. But, longer he had his eyes on you, the more he wanted to know about you. So, he began planning your move into his castle and his life. This Demon King wanted his Queen. Well... to be more accurate....

He was in need of you.

From your point of view, you noticed Muzan's intense gaze on you that night. To say you weren't fazed by it would be a bold-faced lie. You tried to shake off his glare, but something within you made your eyes turn towards his. The shivers that enveloped your spine, the slight hitch in your breath and body language, none of it went unnoticed by him. Those ruby red eyes of his.... it's like they put you in a trance. One that made you want to know more about him.

The next time you saw Muzan was during a local event in your village. As you went to approach him, the alarm bells in the back of your mind began to ring. Your logic was telling you to stay away from this man at all cost. Deciding to put those thoughts behind, you approach the demon and introduce yourself. Muzan was a bit surprised that you made the first move, but all it did was make his plan of having you that much easier. Giving you a warm smile, he returned your gesture and bowed politely.

“It's a pleasure to meet you as well, (Last Name). I'm Tsukihiko. I apologize for my staring the other night.”

Such a suave liar.

From that day on, a steady friendship ensued between the two of you. Friendly trips to the market, hangouts at local events, night walks in the village. All of it made you come to like Muzan even more. To the point that those feelings became rather.... loving. Initially, you felt guilty for even developing them. The thought of being with a married father made you feel icky. But, being the oh so attentive person that he is, Muzan took note of your inner dilemma and immediately knew how to dissolve those worthless worries. All it took was a fake smile and gentle reassurance.

“(Name), I've come to sense that you're worried about Rei. Well, I can say that it is not necessary. We got a divorce as of recent, and she took our daughter with her. A factor of why is due to what I am.”

Muzan then told you about him being a demon. How he had to consume flesh to survive. This new information made you feel highly conflicted, to say the least. Before you could even process his confession, you heard a twang and found yourself surrounded by a multitude of buildings. You go to question him, but what you saw made your body freeze. Those ruby red eyes you fell for were now a harsh, blood red with slits. The caring Tsukihiko was really the ever atrocious Muzan Kibutsuji, the King of all Demons.

The devilish man stood in front of you, caressing your cheek gently, despite the look of possessiveness in his eyes. It was at this moment that you knew what you were dealing with. It terrified you, but.... it also intrigued you. It only made you fall deeper in love with him. Which is exactly what he wanted. “From this day on, you are mine, and mine only. No demon or man is allowed to be in your prescence, much less look at you. Such filth shall not matter to you. Ever. Do you understand.”

As most people say, Muzan has achieved the rich status and will pretty much spoil you. Anything you want, he's already at the place, cash in hand. That kimono you were eyeing? Already in the closet. A piece of jewelry you talked about getting? He's already putting it around your neck. This man has bought you so much stuff that you feel like a spoiled princess rather than his s/o.

Affection is very rare with him. He's not exactly the romantic type, but when he's in the mood for your touches, he'll just stop you from whatever you were doing and sit you in his lap. He'd caress your thighs and deliver small kisses to your neck. He would hold you tight, almost clingy, but these moments always made your heart flutter.

NSFW:

Now, you know this man is experienced. He's lived for over a thousand years, plus he had five wives in the past (though he treated them like complete shit). Muzan has the knowledge and skills to make the human body experience the ultimate pleasure.

If it weren't for Muzan's ability to hold himself back, he would've jumped on you then and there. The site of the soft ropes decorating the canvas that was your body made him aroused. He decided to heighten the experience by blindfolding you. The demon began to circle you, using the tips of his fingers to stroke the skin of your tummy, goosebumps appearing in their trail. He then moved them to your lips, letting them invade your mouth. You happily sucked on them, a soft moan emitting from you. An amused smirk formed on Muzan's lips.

“Such greed you have. Are you so reluctant to suck on my fingers? Perhaps my cock would be a better option for you then? Hm?”

It seemed his statement went straight to your core. As he stood in front of you and adjusted the rope to spread your legs, Muzan chuckled at the sight of your pussy drooling. Kneeling down, he delivered a series of kisses to your clit while sliding his middle and ring fingers in. To say you were a whimpering mess was an understatement. A combination of not knowing when or what he'd do, plus the feeling of his slender fingers, your cunt sang a song of joy for him.

Muzan is definitely big. He's definitely a good 9 inches and would increase its size to a 10. His cock has veins on both sides, and a pretty pink tip. You didn't know how you were gonna make it with a monster like that, but no worries. Muzan will make it fit. It's why this activity is done with you and you only. Your pussy is the only thing that's capable to handling him.

Your heart jumped a bit when you felt your body being suspended a couple inches off the bed. Was this man really about to fuck you stupid like this? Taking off his clothes, Muzan stood on the bed and used the tip of his dick to tease your entrance. You whined at him to stop the tease and get on with the show. A slap to your clit and the rough pace of his thrusts made you pause your complaint, your loud mewls ringing in the air.

“Cease your complaining. I'm the only one who gives instructions here. Are you that hungry for my cock that you decide to be a brat? To be so desperate as to beg me for it? So filthy. But nonetheless, I will gladly show you just how much I can offer this pussy.”

Muzan's favorite position is definitely between missionary and doggy. Missionary allows him to see you fall apart and mark your neck with his lovebites. Doggy, on the other hand, gives him access to smack your ass to his heart's content. He also loves to push your head into the mattress and fuck you harder. But, his number one will always be you on your knees, sucking him for everything's he's got.

Ya'll have more than likely fucked while he was in his female form. You never knew that tribbing could feel so good. And boy, was Muzan a master at the art. Crossed missionary, cowgirl, you did it all. Of course, she fucked you with dildos of all sizes. Some days, Muzan would overstimulate you with a vibrator attached to your clit.

“You can't handle anymore? How disappointing. You've only had four orgasms so far. Surely you can take more, my naughty girl.”

The overall lesson here? Muzan Kibutsuji is a god at sex, and you will always be left a drooling mess.

[Here's Muzan! Ngl, I went a bit wild with NSFW jdndnrnr💀. Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs will be greatly appreciated 💕.]

[Tagging: @sailewhoremoon @frxxst]