#southern swamp deer

[thegreatprinceoftheforest]

Southern Swamp Deer | Yuwaraj Gurjar

[hazelfoureyes]

A boiling frog (Alastor x Reader smut)

saw someone talk about “boiling frog syndrome”, when a situation becomes dire so slowly you don’t realize how dangerous it is until it’s too late, like a frog slipping into death as the cold water comes to a boil, never trying to leap out. Made me think of Louisiana frog legs and, of course, our self obsessed deer demon. my longwinded ass used restraint and went for a PWP (I hope…. No, theres still plot. I’m a slut for plot. Sorry?)

Your companionship was peppered onto Alastor so gently and slowly he didn’t realize he was too far gone until he was hopelessly dependent on your attention. He decides the only remedy is to drown you in his.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x fem reader, cunnilingus, biting, work attire, realistic descriptions of yet another job I once had, fingering, mentions of my favorite alcoholic beverage, southern shit, filing, that asshole in room 127

Minors DNI

When you first arrived at the hotel, Alastor was pleased to have some help. Charlie informed him of your experience on earth managing apartments and how you would be taking on the role of ‘Resident Relations Manager’. Any issues, complaints, or room adjustments would go to you first. Marvelous. As his underling, you often came to him with your own gripes and stories of the latest drama around the hotel. It became a sort of ritual to meet at the bar after work, talking about the day’s trivial matters over two fingers of rye and a cassis orange. One morning you joined him for coffee in the sunroom he added shortly after your arrival, silently enjoying the view. Then you returned the next day. At some point you started filling his mug and bringing it to the chair he always used. Neither of you spoke, which he found refreshing.

The group dinners were never his scene, the familiarity they bore was uncomfortable and dangerous to his plans. But he overheard your laughter as you and Angel teased each other about what could or couldn’t be defined as a kink. When he joined the table, he was pleasantly surprised at the in-depth conversations you sparked among the band of hopeless fools he’d come to enjoy.

So when he entered the sunroom one morning to see his cup, but not you, it ruffled his fur, so to speak. At dinner, he heard from Charlie you were eating in your office. The bar was full of residents and yet empty all the same when you never arrived.

Three days was all it took. Three days of not seeing you. When he walked past the bar at 9pm to see just Angel and Husk, he continued onward until in the safety of the darkened hall. Licking his teeth, he found himself getting angry. Annoyed that he was promised, by your actions, interesting conversation and like-minded company. His fists curled out of frustration, lights strobing as he stalked down the hall.

But that melted into something even more upsetting, he felt… worried. Not that his smile showed it, passing Vaggie with a nod of his head.

When did you manage to creep into his mind? Like an overlord taking territory, you had taken space in his thoughts with ruthless speed. Never one to be passive in competition, he realized he needed to take drastic measures to catch up to you. He knew of many ways to get *ahead, but he found an ambush always worked like a charm.

Alastor’s shadows gathered before he rose from the floor of your office.

You were standing near a filing cabinet, looking intently at something, “Hello there Alastor, to what-“ you turned the page, not looking at him, “do I owe the pleasure?” You hadn’t actually lifted your head from the file until you felt a hand in the small of your back. You flinched and took a step away, turning around to ask what he was doing when you noticed you weren’t in your office anymore.

The large hole in the wall that led into an endless swamp of a forest hinted at whose room this was.

Closing the file with one hand, you gestured around the room, “Is there a reason I’m here?”

He motioned for you to sit on the bed, and when you laughed he used the microphone to corral you to the edge. “You’ve been busy, as of late.”

“Swamped.” Usually your puns would get atleast a chuckle from your boss, but this time he passed right over it.

“I realized today we haven’t had one of our usual chats in quite a while. What’s been keeping you oh-so-occupied?” He pushed down on your shoulders until you came to rest on the bed.

Nervously, you scooted back a little from him, “Well, so many new residents has meant so many petty little issues. This guy on the 34th floor is angry that the man who killed him is on 37– Alastor?!” He had knelt down and lifted your ankle, slipping your shoe off.

“And?”

“What are you doing?”

“Isn't it obvious?" He picked up the other ankle, "Listening. Continue.”

You laughed breathlessly, “wha-,” but the way he looked up at you seemed to catch your tongue, “uhm, so- yeah so he doesn’t think his killer deserves redemption-,” the other shoe was taken off, neatly set besides its twin. You took a deep breath to try and calm down, “and even if he does, he shouldn’t be—,”Alastor’s hand slipped up your right thigh, fingers taking your stocking and rolling it down. His gaze on your face never wavering.

“Keep going.” The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just suggesting it.

“-be on a higher floor.” He peeled the left stocking down, delicately pulling it over your toes.

You forgot to breath for a second. Instinctively you brought your knees together.

“That is quite annoying! What ever will you do?” That toothy grin widened as he looked up at you. His hand began to massage the sole of your right foot.

“Huh? Do what?”

“About the man on 34’s complaint”, his hand then moved up to your calf, he hummed, “what supple flesh, my dear.”

“Thank you?” Should you be scared or horny? Was he tenderizing his dinner? He looked up at you expectantly. “I told him if the angels return, higher floors would be the most dangerous.”

"Ha! Quite a clever response! Did it placate him?" He raised your right knee to his mouth, placing his lips above the joint. You felt his breath over your inner thigh as he let out a soft huff of a laugh, a reaction to your confused face. You were absolutely panicked; frozen. That wild look you were giving him, if he could he would drown himself in those eyes. Alastor felt his own excitement build, a twitch pressing his cock against the zipper of his dress pants. What a delicious reaction. His long hands crawled under your work skirt, nails grazing your skin as he grabbed the sides of your panties, "It's rude to leave someone waiting, dear."

You shook your head, crawling backward on the bed, "Okay, I get it. Ha ha, you managed to frazzle me."

A darkness fell over his face, "I don't think you do get it." He opened his mouth and dragged his teeth over the skin of your inner thigh, "You've neglected me quite rudely! Most people wouldn't dare such a thing and yet you don't even seem slightly concerned about it."

Rude? "Alastor, oh my god. What did I do? I've been at work every morning on time, if not early. I have been staying up late to make sure the resident files are up to date. I've been meeting with Charlie like you wanted about-,” He brought the panties down your thighs.

"It is what you haven't been doing, mon cher.” He pulled them clear of one leg, leaving them to hang off the ankle of the other leg. "I've been drinking my coffee alone in the sunroom, do you think I had the set of rocking chairs delivered for my own amusement? Dinner has been monotonous without your conversation. And what about our nightly gossip at the bar?" When he lifted your leg and hooked your knee over his shoulder, you fell back on your elbows to keep from lying flat.

"Listen-- Alastor!" His name was squeaked out as a bite stung you, dangerously close to your now naked pussy.

"Sir." He chided.

"Sir?!" He pushed your skirt up, exposing you, "Sir. I don't really like people going down on me."

"That's odd.” His hands gripped your thighs and dragged your ass to the edge of the bed, your pussy now inches from his face. His eyes rolled from left to right, “I don’t remember asking.” Your other leg was pulled over his shoulder, causing you to finally fall onto your back.

A long, wide tongue licked from mid thigh to the place where your legs met your crotch. You felt the heat of his mouth before he finally made contact with your core, one long lick from entrance to clit.

You buried your face inside the file, inhaling the smell of ink and paper with each pant. Your heart was pounding, the rush of blood from your head to your lap left you dizzy and seeing spots.

“Ah ah! I need your full attention.” He took the file and tossed it to the side. He needed to see your face, this was pointless if he couldn’t watch you go dumb in his mouth.

He had started this wanting to ensure you would be thinking about him as much as he had been you, but the way you couldn’t even speak when he touched you shifted his mission. Now, he wanted to win. Maybe he would be bothered by the absence of your presence in the sunroom, but you’d lie awake at night pained by the absence of his tongue in your cunt.

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.” Your face was beet red.

“Good. I’ve never been very fond of sharing my toys.” His nose grazed your already throbbing clit as he sunk his tongue into you. Reflexively your thighs pressed against his ears, his head keeping you from closing them entirely. His tongue seemed to lick at your walls as if reaching for something, the sensation wet and warm. You whined, embarrassed at how you were twitching against his lips.

You could feel his smile widen, thumb pressing down on your clit. Gripping the sheets you tried to ease away, the pressure too rough. His nails dug into your left leg, keeping you from making any real difference.

As he dragged his tongue along your walls you felt something you normally didn’t when getting eaten out; the beginning tension of an orgasm slinking into your stomach.

When his mouth left your cunt you gasped, the air stinging at your wet hole and thighs.

“Starting from the morning, tell me exactly what you did today that was so important you didn’t feel the need to entertain me with your company. If your mouth stops moving, so will mine.” He brought his lips to your other thigh, nipping at the skin.

“I made your coffee but got a call about a resident.” His finger pressed against your entrance before breaching.

“Oh, it has been awhile. I thought you were just being modest”, he laughed, your embarrassed expression spurring him forward. He hadn’t expected you to be so tight on just a single digit.

“She feels unsafe, there’s a jackal demon on her floor who keeps”, his finger curled, hitting that bundle of nerves that made your eyes cross, “who is giving her really scary looks.” He bit down again, breaking the skin. You yelled, yanking your leg back but he didn’t release you. “Alastor- please. This is cruel enough.”

“You haven’t even begun to see me be cruel.” He lapped at the wound, finger in you slowly dragging out before entering again. Still bent, it would hit your spongey g-spot with every move. “After that?”

“I had a meeting with Charlie. About the different growth activities.” Eyes closed, you could feel your pleasure slowly inching up that peak. “I needed to organize the files first, so I ate at my desk again.”

His lips cupped your clit as he began to suck. Your hips rose off the bed and his mouth went with you.

“It’s a lot of paperwork, you won’t let me use a computer for it.” His hand pulled back as a second finger joined. The way your cunt was gripping his fingers, he couldn’t imagine how much you’d hiss around his cock. His hips rutted against the air beside the bed, out of your view.

You put your arm over your eyes to hide yourself in some way, breath hitching when his fingers began pumping in and out of you. The moans tumbling from your mouth made Alastor’s grip on you tighten further. His cock leaking into the front of his pants.

When his tongue stopped flitting over your clit you groaned a complaint.

“Ffuuuck, Alastor. D- Uh, Room 127 hates the view o-,” your jaw clenched around the words, “something something blah blah blah —nngh” your head went back, your hips now fully grinding into his mouth. You needed more friction, your orgasm rolling just to the precipice.

His tongue slowed.

“He- he uh, I said he could move,” his fingers curled, pressing over and over into your g-spot, “when he stops being such an asshole. fuck me, please don’t stop—,” you reached down for his head and took a fist full of hair, earning you a surprised moan from him.

Alastor removed his hand from your leg to palm his clothed erection. His nose buried into your bush as his own breathing picked up.

So close.

“-and now I’m here and you’re here,” your words breathy, “and I’m gonna cum—I’m so close, so close,” your lips tingled from the way you were panting.

You choked out a moan as your orgasm reached its climax and pleasure wracked your body. Your grip on his hair stinging, your pussy sucked his fingers in with so much need he closed his eyes and let himself cum against his palm at the thought of his cock in their place. He felt the warmth soak into his pants.

Both of your hands came to your face, too embarrassed to speak.

Alastor placed your shoes and tights beside you, and rested both of his elbows on either side of your head. His weight pressed into you, and you finally looked at him. He was resting his chin on his cradled hands, staring down at you.

With a smug grin and raised his eyebrows he said, “Apology accepted.” He pushed off of you, bringing both fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean with a wet ‘pop’. “See you in the sun room at 8am! Bring that cheery smile I’ve come to enjoy!” He sunk back into the shadows and was gone.

You looked around, you were back in your office. He’d transported you seamlessly from lying on his bed to lying on your desk.

“Yes, sir.”

*get it? He wanted to “get ahead”… head. The slang for cunnilingus ? I’ll see myself out

༻Masterlist༺

[small-sinclair]

Emergency Glass

Whumptober 7: Only for Emergencies, Prompt Idea

Lester Sinclair x Vampire!reader

Tw: starved reader, blood mention, hints that the reader was tortured

Prompt Idea: In need of Blood

When he found you, you were barely hanging on to life. Your eyes were glazed and lost in the murky waters, and your hair was tangled like broken vines from a willow. Your shirt was torn and shred from some animal he didn’t know; he’s never seen claws that big before. Whatever took you out and left you for dead wasn’t in a hurry; it took its time with you as if you were a plaything to its own muse.

Lester was gentle as he scooped your body in his arms and cradled you like a child. You were too light in his hold, and he could see the outline of your bones and veins under your skin and how they connected like a spider’s web. Your cold form shivered as his warmth kept you awake and relaxed. Your eyes fluttered then rolled as he removed you from the hellish waters and twisted tree limbs. You struggled a breath, and he hushes you like a mother towards a frighten child. In a way, you were a frighten child after the past few days in a hunter’s den. You were torn apart then stitched back together in an unforgivable fashion. You felt violated and stripped of what little you had left of yourself, of the line that separates you from monsters. Now, a stranger, kind and true, was carrying you out of the swamp and placing you inside his track with carefulness.

With the rumble of his truck, it roared to life, and he drove down the rough, beaten road to poorly done gravel road. The bitter smell of decay and dried blood was enough to make your mouth water, but you bit your tongue and clenched your jaw. You’re hearing wasn’t the best, but you knew the stranger was speaking to you. The voice was too muffled and quiet due to your ears ringing and buzzing like a light. Hunger was starting to set in, and it was burning a hole in your chest. You don’t attack humans; only animals. But the driver...you could smell his blood from under his skin and it flowed like a clear river. It was enough to make your stomach rumble and your fangs to grow. You felt your eyes change colors to a deep red. Even in his eyes, you saw your reflection and how it made him shiver once he realized who is in his truck.

Lester’s heard stories about what lurks in Louisiana shadows. He’s heard about the string of attacks in the cities and how there seemed to be a hive somewhere. Finding you out in the middle of the swamp after he was done setting up traps for gators should’ve rung alarm bells. But the claw marks on your body and the scratches that marked your body, making you look like a map of tortured and torn souls, should’ve made him run off for his shot gun in the back of his truck, but it only would’ve made things difficult. His hands aren’t as clean as Bo’s or Vincent’s, but it wasn’t as stained or darken by rich blood. It wasn’t as messy as the twins and their twisted artwork.

He saw you as a hurt deer, something that can be nursed back to health and let go into the wild after tending to your needs. He was Whatever called him to stay and help you...whatever possessed him to look after you, he’ll be as helpful as he could be. Besides, it’s his southern hospitality kicking in along with his nature to give a hand. He was always too kind, and it never scared him until the points of your fangs glowed in the starlight.

Lester swallowed the rock in his throat, his Adams apple bobbing like a toy boat down a rocky stream. The smell of his blood was intoxicating, and it drowned you in your own thoughts. If you had a taste, just a nibble, what harm would that do? He may be thin, but he had enough meat on his bones and blood in his system to serve you well and good. Only for emergencies, you bite humans. Only for emergencies, you feed off their blood and hang on their necks like a vise. The worry gleam in his eyes didn’t call you away or scare you; he knew what you needed.

The truck began to slow down until it stopped. He threw the car in park and turned off the engine, killing it with ease. He stayed in the driver seat as if he was reflecting what his next move would be. You watched as he closed his eyes and let out a soft breath.

“I’ll help you,” he said after a while. “I’ll help you, vampire.” His puppy brown and blue eyes looked down at you. “At least lemme getcha in the house before ya bite me, yeah?” When he saw you nod slowly, he unbuckles both himself then you and hops out of the truck. It wasn’t long until he was holding you once more in his arms. “You’ll be a’right, little vampire.” Why did the words make you blush? Why was the nickname repeating in your head over and over? “Les’ll make sure you’re alive after dis.”

Going into his house and heading to his little guest room by the back door wasn’t a long walk. From what you gathered from his little walk, his home wasn’t that big, but it wasn’t too small.

“Oh, I’m Lester, by the way,” he introduced himself as he laid you down. The mattress and cold sheets under your touch was soft like a moss bed, and he watched as your tensed body unfold like a blooming flower. “There you go,” he praises in a hushed voice. “I’ll get a rag; don’t know how long you were out there and—”

His voice trailed and stopped as soon as your pearly white fangs showed through your lips, plumped and bruised. Lester closes his mouth and swallows a thick, awed gasp. To him, you looked just as right as rain. A part of him hopes you drain every drop of him and turn him into a husk of a person. The way the moonlight laid over you like a blanket made you look like royalty. “Right, you need blood, little vampire.”

Lester lowered himself on the bed and awkwardly shifted you to be on top of him. He rubbed your back and turned his head to expose his neck until. You could practically feel it in your mouth even though you haven’t bitten down. You could taste it and feel it flow over down your throat ever-so-smooth and slick. His comforting warmth and slow circles on your back only made you feel more relaxed.

He almost felt like home.

Only for emergencies, you can break down and shatter the glass to that safety case. Only for emergencies, you can feed off humans and drink deeply in rich and sweet blood. Only for emergencies...just until your hunger is gone.

[bonezone44]

Beneath the Mire (18+)

Ezra x Swamp Monster!afab!Reader

Word Count: 3162

(Ezra img from pedropascalsx)

Dead Dove, Do Not Eat. Tags: Non-con somnophilia. Blowjob. Unprotected p-in-v.

Summary: You're a human-turned-swamp monster and a man crashes into your corner of the bayou. 😈

A/N: I'm too lazy to edit this, lol ! ENJOY!

—--

Heavy storm clouds rolled inward and a highly motivated Ezra couldn't get back to shore fast enough.

He had been out on his jon boat in the bay, fishing all by his lonesome and without much to show for it. Some days, the fish just aren't very hungry, he reasoned to himself. But it was no matter to him. He was the kind of man who loved to bask in the biosphere. He let the sound of the swaying grasses on the shoreline brush along his eardrums. He watched herons snip at bugs in the water and gobble them up, one by one. The chirping crickets and singing birds added to the chorus of croaking toads hopping around and splashing in the mud puddles. He enjoyed the symphony so much, he allowed it to lull him to sleep, slouching in his seat with his fishing rod in his hand. He figured the tug of a fine catch would rouse him from slumber. He wasn't even that tired. He only wanted to rest his eyes. But as he said himself, some days the fish just aren't very hungry.

Ezra was instead awoken by a loud clap of thunder. His eyes grew big and worried when he saw darkness engulfing the southern horizon. He scrambled to the back of his boat and started his trolling motor. It was weak and feeble against the untenable waters and he barely made it out of the bay before the rain. The rain, when it fell, fell like it was being poured outta buckets and straight onto Ezra’s head. He tried as he could to move his boat steady, but the wind and waves tossed him up and down and around in all the wrong directions. “This is not the end of my tale! This is not how I depart!” he growled to himself with crazed ferocity. One hand gripped the aluminum seat beneath him and the other clung to the starboard edge. He cursed the storm. He cursed God. He cursed his own dead Momma for testing him with such a treacherous event. He swore to not only survive, but to become stronger, more cunning. He swore to check the goddamn weather report before falling asleep all alone on his boat. "Goddamn piece a shit trolling motor," he groused, adding that he'd buy a better one of those if he survived, as well. 

His heart and body were long weary by the time he made it into your little corner of the bayou. And when he crashed against the knobby roots of one of your favorite cypress trees, his spirit seemed to vanish right before your very eyes.

----

You had been in the swamp for many years now. Too many to count. You had been banished there at a young age, having been deemed unfit for the world of humans. But the swamps… they loved you. They embraced you. They evolved you into something wretched and powerful. 

It began in the mazey waters of Louisiana's bayous. In the thick clouds of humidity that soaked the air between the land and sky. That was where you transformed-- where you were born anew. Your skin grew a coat of slimy, green algae and fuzzy gray lichen. All the hair on your head had fallen out and was replaced with short grasses and leafy clovers. Your eyes developed second eyelids: A yellow film that illuminated the world around you in darkness--even allowing you to navigate late at night and through debris-filled, murky waters. 

Your friends were the alligators. Together you hunted deer and wild turkeys. After so many meals of bloodied meat, your teeth turned sharp and vicious. You could stick out your tongue and taste your prey in the damp, night air--taste their pheromones and dander. You would sense them from miles away and then go running madly through the bogs, chasing with pleasured vigor until you bit into their flesh and rendered them asunder. 

Parts of you were still human, though. Your intelligent mind. Your lonely heart. In your early years as a newborn creature of the swamp, you would sneak around the towns and watch them–the people–talking to one another and going about their days. You would listen to them tell stories and talk shop and chit chat. You would hide in the tall grasses or beneath the shoreline piers. You would follow the fishermen in their boats, the lovers in their canoes, swimming with your alligator friends through the waterways. And when your body burned and craved for human touch, you would wrap your legs around the knobby roots of the cypress trees and rub yourself til your body shook and both your eyelids drifted shut.  

But too much time around humans only made you ache more for them, so you resigned yourself to nature. Where they had banished you. And where you believed you truly belonged.

—-

You were relaxing in your shack when you first saw his approach. You loved storm season. The summer heat would give way to cool breezes and chilly water would shower down from the heavens. And if the winds were gusty and there were flashes of lightning? That just made it all the more exciting for you. So your eyes were already watching the rain show, enraptured in the chaos of nature when you saw a man in his boat intrude upon your swamp. Your home. Your safe haven from the human world that had rejected you. You wanted to stomp and roar. You wanted to bare your teeth and swing your paws and shove him and his boat back out to where he came from.

But something inside of you sank into your belly when you saw him crash. Something tender and fearful swelled behind your vision. You weren't sure why, but you needed to make sure this man would be okay.

You pulled him from the wreckage and dragged him to your hovel. It was made from parts of broken boats and sheets of metal that you had collected over the years. It wasn't much, but it was dry enough for a human like him. You rested him gently on your bed woven from moss. 

Outside the storm wreaked havoc, but as you closed the door to your little shack beneath the strong canopy of cypress trees, a calm and peaceful quiet took over. Droplets of rain sang sporadically on your tin roof. The ground beneath you was covered in planks of wood decking that you had tied together with strong kudzu vines. Rusted scraps of metal hung like chandeliers from the ceiling--like moss hanging from the oak trees.

The poor man was out cold. Well, that was how the saying used to go anyway, when you were around the humans more.  It had been many years since you had seen a man this up-close. You had forgotten all about the pores that dotted their faces. The hairs that protruded from around their mouths and chins. And even how their noses had hair coming out of them, too. 

This man's hair had a blonde patch above his right temple. And little white hairs peppered along his jaw. He had a pretty nose with a strong curve resembling the bow of a boat all turned upside down. His top lip looked like it had been curled and there was a divot at the center of his bottom lip that was deep enough to hold a whole puddle of water in it. There was a thin scar on his left cheek that looked like a fish hook. You traced it with your finger--leaving a trail of slime behind. Your touch caused no reaction from him. 

You wonder how he got so far from the rest of civilization. Maybe he was like you–all alone and aching. Who would go fishing all by themselves when the cloud patterns foretold stormy weather? Who could be so oblivious to the dangers of nature? You held his jaw and brushed your thumb along his cheek. This poor man… he had to be pained. He had to be hurting. There had to be kinship between the two of your despondent hearts. 

Why else would your beloved swamp allow a man to trespass its tangled gates?

You sighed with relief.

“A gift,” you smiled to yourself. 

At long last, the swamp that had first embraced you so long ago has offered you a companion. Another banished human to mold and articulate into an amalgamation of photosynthesizer and carnivorous beast. Another banished human to sate the needs of its first ape-turned-slimy-hybrid (you). 

You leaned forward and pressed your lips into his. His soft, dry lips. You giggled when you pulled back–his mouth now green with your algae. He would be even more appealing once the swamps began to turn him. But for now, it was enough to have him donning a small coating of you. You kissed his cheeks. His forehead. The empty patch along his jaw. Each caress of your lips grew the fire between your thighs.

His neck was long and his veins were like pulsing rivers--veins that disappeared beneath a soaking wet t-shirt that clung to his skin. You looked down further and--oh! Right. Men have nipples, too. You saw them budding hard like cypress roots and something about it made your lips point and pout--made your teeth want to bite and chew. And although his face remained expressionless, you knew your betrothed. You knew he would enjoy your affection. He would understand your ache and your need–for it exists the same in him. It has to! How could your swamp gift you with anything less?

You tongued his right nipple through his shirt. You pinched and toyed with it, rubbed it in circles with the pad of your finger. It made you burn, but you didn’t want to stop. It had been so so long since you were with another human. It had been so so long since you allowed yourself to ache in this way. You wanted to revel in the rarity. Bask in your hunger. You wrapped your lips around his left nipple and sucked it into your mouth, pulling it between your teeth. You sucked in the salty, brackish water from the cloth of his shirt. You huffed. It wasn’t enough. You pulled his shirt upward and there it was–bare for you! A deep russet color and sparsely circled by coarse dark hairs. Oh! The taste of his skin was something immaculate. You sucked his nipple into your mouth again and pulled your head back, yanking it with you—

!!!!

His body twitched and you immediately released him. Air caught in your throat as you froze in place awaiting his waking eyes, but… 

Nothing.

You sighed in both disappointment and relief. You wanted to meet his eyes and hear his voice, but you were also very pleased to continue sating your curiosity. You were too eager to cease indulging your human-side’s desires.

His chest moved slowly and evenly with his breaths. His belly, too. His arms laid flaccid at his sides and you picked up one of his big hands and held it in your own, wondering how he got so many little knicks and scars and calluses. You kissed each one–coating them in your slime. Soon it would be his slime, too. 

You laid his hand back down and that was when you saw it. 

Something you had long forgotten about. 

Something hypnotizing and stupefying. 

Something that... bulged below his waistband.

Saliva pooled on your tongue. You tugged and yanked desperately on his pants–which were soaking wet and clinging tightly to his skin. You grappled with the strange fastenings that kept them secure. You fiddled and fussed until finally his bottom was as bare as his torso and the bulging thing you desperately sought was set free.

You swallowed thickly at the sight of it. Nearly as russet as his nipples. The muscle stood tall and thick, engorged with rushing blood. A bulging sack of skin hung around its base. Your body shook with temptation and confusion. You wanted to swallow it whole and you wanted it deep between your legs. You wanted to lick and taste the skin and massage it desperately with your hands. You rested your cheek against it, longingly. Hungrily. Cravingly. You breathed deep his cloudy musk with your nostrils–moaning and pouting to yourself. 

You positioned your head above his cock and wrapped your long, forked tongue around it. Viscous saliva rained from your lips as you licked and squeezed his hardness. The world around you disappeared as you drank and devoured. Warmth expelled from your cheeks, heating the room. He was delicious! He was succulent! The salty syrup that oozed from his tip made you dizzy with lust. You sucked him all the way into your mouth so you could feel the fullness of him–taste him on every sensor in your maw.

His flavor was elysian.

You looked up briefly from your inebriated haze and gasped–his heavy cock falling from your tongue. 

Your man! Your betrothed!

His lids had risen to reveal blurry brown eyes!

“My gift!” you cheered.

He didn’t respond–not verbally anyway. But his eyes did move from side to side. His breathing was heavier than it had been before, but he was not fraught with panic. He blinked.

“My gift!” You praised again and kissed his cheeks with your wet lips. “You’re safe!” Tears welled in your eyes and you felt as if something was soon to burst from your chest. “You’re home now,” you smiled and pressed your cheek against his own. Small noises escaped his lips, but no words. You pulled back and saw his brows pull tight and his lips twitch. “It’s okay,” you soothed. “We’re not alone anymore.” You leaned forward again and kissed him more deeply this time, slipping your tongue into his mouth to taste him. He choked and coughed and you startled. “I’m sorry, my gift!” You shrank away with shame. “My-my tongue is different than it was when I… when I was… just a human like you.” Your face shined bright. “Soon, your tongue will be just like mine!” You opened your mouth wide and let the muscle roll from your lips. It went down past your chin and you could almost touch your own chest with the forked tip. His eyes slightly widened and you threw your head back, laughing. Then his eyes looked past you, looked down between his legs and your gaze followed. You giggled shyly. “I’m sorry, my gift. I couldn’t wait. I knew you’d understand what loneliness I felt,” you sighed. You held your bottom lip with your razor-sharp teeth and your eyes glittered. “May I finish?” you asked. “The mouth between my legs is hungry, too,” you grinned. You didn’t wait for a response. You didn’t need to. You knew he’d understand.

You scurried back down his body, which had become smattered with green splotches of you, and straddled him. You pressed your clit against his thick member and moaned. “Oh, my gift, you feel so much better than the tree roots. Oh you feel so good,” you spoke through gritted fangs as you moved your hips back and forth. Your hands were planted firmly on the moss bed beneath him. The man hissed and panted–his fingers twitched. His eyes remained blurry and searching. You whimpered above him, chasing your pleasure until your insides clenched and spasmed. Waves of delight pulsed through your body and you looked at your half-naked gift with loving tenderness and passionate desire. 

“I waited so long for you,” you said tearily. “My gift. My love.” You leaned forward and kissed his lips. As you moved your hips, you felt the tip of his member catch on your hole. It startled you–it invited another appetite for feasting. Your upper half rested against his torso as you reached down and took his member in your hand. Your hole drooled with slippery filth and when you sank onto his cock, loud squelches echoed around the metal walls of your hovel–along with your gift’s deep, guttural groan. You whimpered, “Oh, your voice! I want to hear you. I want to hear everything!” You bounced your lower body up and down, maneuvering in whatever way made him make the most noise. Pained and raspy sounds expelled from his pursed lips. His breaths were shallow and rhythmic. “Is this good? Is this good, my love?” you asked with your chest high. He nodded and you shook your head with glee. “Yes!” you hissed. “My gift loves me! My gift adores me! I am his gift, too!” His thick fingers wrapped around your slimy thighs and although his grip was weak, it was fervent. He nodded more steadily and you fell to him–cheek-to-cheek–and rode his thick cock–chest-to-chest. “Forever, my gift!” you hissed in his ear. “Together until the end of time!”

He groaned and grunted, although you were doing all of the real work. His hips were hardly thrusting, but his noises were that of agreement. “S–ss—” was the closest thing to words he expressed, but you knew he wanted you. He wanted you just as deeply. Just as infinitely. 

You cried out sharply with your orgasm–a tension snapping from your body and billowing out. You sighed delightfully and rested your body on top of your new companion. 

“...no…” he whispered.

“What?” you were shocked and excited to hear real words.

“....d-don’t…” he swallowed. “.... stop…. don’t… stop.”

You leaned back with confusion. 

“k-keep…. goin….” he rasped.

The realization hit you and you bashfully covered your face. “I’m so sorry, my gift!” You giggled. “Now it’s your turn!” You reached down with your free hand, keeping your eyes on his. You gripped his hardness, which was coated in your green mucky slick, and mimicked the movements of your hips. You moved your hand up and down as you stared into each other’s eyes. 

“yes… yes… yes…” he whispered into your lips until suddenly his eyes squeezed shut. 

You looked down and a creamy white ooze dribbled heavily from the tip of his member. You could taste his salt by simply sticking your tongue in the air–but it wasn’t enough. You licked up his release as it mixed with the remains of your own. So delicious! Every part of him made you hunger.

You sighed contentedly. He seemed rather content, too, as far as you could tell from his soft eyes and deep breaths. “It is good to rest after a satisfying meal,” you told him as you laid your head on his chest. “When the storm is over, we’ll add your boat to our home. And I will show you how to hunt the deer and you will meet all of my friends and we will be very happy.” You wrapped your arm around him and snuggled close. “You are my gift and I am your gift, too.”

++++++++++

[iamthecomet]

So hear me out!

As a fandom, we LOVE putting Dew through the wringer. Many ppl write his character as emotionally complicated and fucked up. Little guy had a hard past and does not deal well with feelings nor does he always have healthy coping mechanisms.

We have all seen fics where he deals with his shit through self harm/substance abuse, subspace, anger, age regression, animal regression, disassociation, etc.

And maybe this idea has been written before...but maybe not-

What if instead of all of the other mentioned stuff that he used to do...now that he's older he just finds it easier to go a little feral for a while in order to cope? It's natural ghoul behavior anyway. Like, when stuff starts to builds up and he stresses out badly...he starts to show the signs - he gets bitchy, distant... but now, instead of falling into a deep depression or setting shit on fire he reverts to full mindless feral pit beast?

He wanders off naked, into the woods for a few days. He eats deer and birds and bugs and stuff, crawls around in the dirt for a while until it blows over and he feels better.

And at first, everyone's kind of like "Oh shit, Dew's gone feral!" But then they realize that it's actually better than him doing all of that self/property/relationship destructive stuff or actually hurting a sibling, so they just kind of let him go and do his thing? Because they know that it will run its course and he'll come back after a week or two.

Maybe the clergy sends out an abbey-wide email announcing that there's a" feral ghoul in forest B so stay out of there for a while until it leaves the vicinity". And they put up some warning signs so people don't go out on those trails or near where he's been spotted. Kind of like how they do it in Yellowstone park or something when there's a bear or a cougar spotted near a trail so people stay off of the trail.

Anyway, that's my thought!

Gremlin

#goneferal #feralasacopingmechanism

I am so into this! It's so much easier to just walk away sometimes. To just let all the shit he's been bottling up loose in his true form. Just letting go. Slipping free of humanity in order to get his head on straight again.

It happens a few times a year, before and after tours when he's the most stressed out. I like to think sometimes others join him. Mountain will slip into his true form and just sort of hang out with him at a safe distance if Dew will tolerate it. Sometimes Aether too. They check on him, mostly just making sure he hasn't hurt himself, or wandered too close to a town or anything. But mostly he's left alone, to his own devices, to work it out on his own.

Sometimes they'll get caught up in it with him. It feels good to let go. And yeah, Siblings definitely get periodic email updates. Stay away from the eastern swamps. Don't go into the southern pine grove.

He absolutely comes back covered in dirt and scratches, hair greasy. Eyes dull and exhausted. And docile. He lets himself be ushered into a bath. He's pliable, longing for attention, his voice soft and quiet from disuse.

He stays in his room for a few days after, sleeping it off, picking at the food the others bring him. But once the exhaustion is gone he's back to his normal self again. The whole thing is a little stressful for everyone, but far less stressful than when he used to throw tantrums in the abbey, so no one is about to ask him to stop.

[mjso-soupp]

Hc’s for M brothers + Reji and Kanato with a S/O who collects animal skulls, bones n stuff like that? :)

Bone Collector S/O

This is SOOOO late. i’ve been swamped with school so writing has been pushed to the back burner and art is occasional now 😭😭, trying to get back into the flow as of late.

Ruki

•He’s really into science and such so he would find this interesting if you collected for science purposes.

•He would study the bones and determine which animal they were from etc

•But if you collected them for more aesthetic purposes he would find it a bit strange, more in a “how is this aesthetic” way.

•From a cultural standpoint, he would do research on the significance of collecting bones and maybe even help grow your collection.

Kou

•Creeped out.

•He doesn’t really understand the significance behind bones and stuff because they’re not something casual lol

•“throw those out”

•Also his relationship with Subaru is so funny to me because subaru is like edgy, gorey and like skulls the dynamic is crazy

•“as long as you don’t carry those around with you”

Yuma

•I can imagine he’s found his fair share of animal bones when gardening

•yuma does give me southern/rural background, so collecting bones and stuff isn’t foreign to him as in his old home he probably had a deer head mounted

•would probably not care unless the collection would get out of hand

•“Sow.. you have five other rat skulls you don’t need a sixth.”

•If he found a skull in the garden he would give it to you.

Azusa

•As a collector himself, he would find it cool his S/O collects like him, kinda connecting

•Asks questions about why you collect, when you found this or that and how

•was hesitant to show you his knife collection until he saw your bone collection so he geeked and showed you his knife’s

•if you scavenge for bones he would like to follow behind you and pick at the thorns lol

Reiji

•Would definitely snag a bone or two when he needs one for his potion

•Doesn’t think it’s the most appealing collection for an S/O

•“Why do you feel the need to collect bones, there are many other collectables in this world and you chose… Bones.”

•If it’s of cultural significance he would understand a bit more and would ask about it.

•“Just.. keep it away from my plates, those are bound to be filthy.”

Kanato

•Would think it’s kinda gross? or not the most appealing

•“Please keep those away from me and teddy.”

•But like he also might find it a kinda creepy aesthetic? like Melanie Martinez disturbing?

•Has had to deal with his fair share of bones especially with making those dolls

•With kanato it’s very unpredictable, so I think this could go two ways.

•Would find it either.. Annoying or Beautiful?

[tomwise]

If you’re thinking about writing some nbc Hannibal fic let me tell you some southern things

People don’t move back to north Louisiana

People

Don’t

Move back

To north Louisiana

I can’t say specifically for Shreveport but twenty minutes down the road it’s a poverty rate of 41% one of the highest in the country. This same town I’m talking about is one of the most burglarized cities in America

If you’re writing Will from out of this area in todays age, his teenage years would have been filled with country hood shit

Also Shreveport is on the complete opposite side of the state from New Orleans, top to bottom. Not left to right

Swamps aren’t solid land. The land moves around as it’s floating in the water. Lots of potential for metaphorical shit here

Deer have an extremely strong presence here. More raven stag shenanigans

We associate Will with small fishing boats but there are SO MANY. Especially on the Red River that Shreveport is on. Party barges, casino river boats, really anything. And if Will knows how to fix motors he could prolly do stuff like Hotwire a car, make something into a weapon/explosive, the potential here is endless

People from Louisiana are usually EXTREMELY superstitious. You could lean into this, or vice versa make Will into an extreme skeptic

Hannibal wouldn’t be used to the weather there at all. It’s easier to be hot at the beach/ on an island

Will would 100% be frustrated at some point because of how different grocery store stock is between Louisiana and Virginia. I haven’t lived there in years and I still get mad about it sometimes

You could potentially have a conversation between Will and Hannibal about chicory coffee

Or, and if you wanted to get really authentic with it. Will, a queer that got out of the swamp and became a teacher, prolly wants nothing to do with that shit. No body wants to walk into the local cafe to trump flags

There’s so much more to Louisiana is a very cool place with amazing people and ecosystems. I hope one day it’s a place where the government actually helps people, but for now what I see depicted in fic makes me laugh sometimes.

Will??? Moved BACK??? To SHREVEPORT?? I feel bad for him

[hannabeee69]

The monsters as Regional "gothic" aesthetics 🪦🥀

Neil Josten - Midwest gothic 🌾

Scarecrows, abandoned gas station, cornfields, stom clouds, crows, empty roads, farmland, the smell of ozone, emptiness, sound of distant thunder, paranoia, crops rustling in the wind

Aaron Minyard - Suburban gothic🛸

Things aren't what they appear, alienation, a façade, misplaced items, street lamps, melancholy, trapped, medicated, fog, eerie silence or a lone dog barking, whispers, peeking behind curtains

Andrew Minyard - Appalachian gothic🌿

Cryptids, spirit bottles, abandoned houses, fairy circles, bridges, being watched, deer, becoming lost, hearing things, folk magic, seclusion, total darkness, rituals, outcast

Nicky Hemmick - Southern gothic🪦

Spanish moss, religious guilt, graveyards, the woman in white, swamps, rams, sin, scorn, murky heat, dust floating in light, the sound of cicadas, decay, locked gates

Kevin Day - New England gothic 🔔

Rain, witchcraft, ghosts, cobblestone, old mill towns, railroad bridges, moss covered graves, the trials, colonial architecture, shame, school bells, smell of leaves, ridicule

[marykk1990]

My next post in support of Ukraine is:

Next site, Desna-Starohutskyi National Nature Park in Sumy Oblast. It sits on the Desna River about 185 miles upstream from where the Desna runs into the Dnipro River, and it's part of the Desniaksyi Biosphere Reserve. The park has meadows with tall grasses, forests of aspen, oak, and ash trees, and alder swamps. It also includes the southern part of the Bryansk Forest, which continues into "russia," as sadly, the park sits right at the border with muscovy. The animal life in the park includes elk, roe deer, wolves, squirrels, & beavers have started returning to the marshy parts of the park. And, there's 134 different species of birds known to breed in the park. #StandWithUkraine

#SlavaUkraïni 🇺🇦🌻

And here's another pic of Volodymyr Zelenskyy and Olena Zelenska from happier times, along with their daughter Oleksandra, who is 19 years old now, so this is from several years ago. I hope they & all Ukrainians can be families together again soon. #SlavaUkraïni 🇺🇦🌻

[activate-shadow-of-the-window]

Day 10 of No One Except @mr-orion Asked November (NoOneExOriAskNov).

I bid you welcome to the Land of the Sunrise, one of the four major continents of the World of Four Horizons! It is located near the Ocean of the First Horizon, from which the sun rises every morning. Just a sketch map for now, but I’ll clean it up later. My first map in a couple seasons, and it’s for my fanfic worldbuilding project…

Below the cut is all my lengthy worldbuilding nonsense.

Here is a list of the nations, their rulers, their biomes, and their general appearances, in alphabetical order, that call this continent home.

- Climbing Spires is located in the southern red desert, its buildings of sturdy metal and built into the sides of buttes and mesas. Cub Fan Voidstars, a half-vex exile, rules as Sovereign of the Red Rock Crown, over humans, vulture-folk, camel-folk, and thinking husks.

- Dragon’s Spine is located on the largest and only true mountain range of the continent, its buildings being mostly sturdy castles that fly purple banners. Commander X, an enigma in armor, rules as the first Wearer of the Dragon Crown in ten generations, over a sparse population of humans, goat-folk and free iceologers.

- The Drained Lands are the only unclaimed territory of the continent, so desolate and dangerous are they. It used to be the home of the nation of Geyser Heights, a place of fish-folk that once ruled the entirety of the Lapis Sea. The only known survivor of the Evaporation Disaster is XB, a wandering dolphin-folk messenger.

- Elsewhere is located in the western savanna, its buildings being a strange amalgamation of countless architectural styles. Joe Hills, a completely normal human, rules as the first and only occupant of the Other Throne, over seemingly every sort of people imaginable.

- Evergreen is located in the western hilly taiga, its buildings whimsical and elegant, from grand castles to tall bridges to quaint villages in dark wood and green. Gemini Taylor, a deer-like fae, rules as the Queen of the Crown of Needles, over fox-folk, wolf-folk, humans, and other cold-weather faeries.

- Great Acacia is located in the southern windswept savanna, its buildings sprawling, colorful, and almost all parts of massive temple complexes dedicated to the Acacia divinities. Pearl Moon, a llama-folk, rules from the High Priestess’ Throne of Histories, over other llama-folk, horse-folk, meerkat-folk, ostrich-folk, and humans.

- Iceberg Metropolis is located in the northernmost lake, a place cold enough to have its own icebergs, its buildings modern, pale, and sleek. Keralis is the current Mayor of the Blue Ice Crown, with another wolf-folk, Iskall, as his vice; the two administer a population of more wolf-folk, goat-folk, humans, and a few iceologers.

- The Labyrinth is located in the southern jungle, its buildings swooping, golden, and intricate. Impulse Esvee, a wild ocelot, rules as the Emperor of the Emerald throne over other ocelots, cat-folk, humans, panda-folk, and bat-folk.

- Livingstone is located in the western hills and forests, its buildings ruins of a long-lost nation retaken by nature. Bee Double Oh, an insectoid fae, rules from the Moss Throne as lord of horse-folk, fae, humans, and a few spider-folk.

- The Maw is located in the formidable ice spike biome north of the Lapis Sea, its subterranean buildings harsh, practical, and made of stone. A Doctor Mk-77, whose species is not known, leads this underground world with the Deepfang Crown on his head, alongside strange thinking zombies, skeletons, spider-folk, and humans.

- The Neverglades is located in the cold northern swamp, its buildings craggy and foreboding in black. Tango Tek, a third stray, a third blaze, and a third human, rules from the Basalt Throne over thinking drowned, skeletons, witches, humans, and a few hoglins that managed to stave off zombification.

- Permafrost Springs is located in the eastern snowy plains and half-frozen lake, its buildings stately and columned in white and blue. Cleo, a rather long unlived zombie, now sits on the Everfrost Throne, and rules great ranks of humans, thinking zombies, iceologers, and goat-folk.

- Sunset Coast is located along the edge and into the shallows of the south Lapis Sea, its buildings gilded and reaching for the sky in copper and browns. Grian Sunset, or Virida, depending on who you ask, is the parrot-folk Sitter of the Dusk Throne, the first ruler of this young nation of other parrot-folk, a few humans, and a couple panda-folk from across the sea.

- The Tangle is located in the southern mangrove swamp, what few buildings it has being converted fragments of giant, ancient machines. Ren Dog, a name taken in pride and in shame, is the first and only Lord of the Vine Crown, commanding a small population of wolf-folk, drowned, and humans that are willing to follow such an exile.

- Technicolor City is located in the eastern plains and forests, its sprawling buildings painted in bright colors and standing in cheery ranks. Scar Timely Good, half vex and half elf, wears the hat-like Crown of Colors, and happily rules a motley population of humans and animal-folk of all kinds.

- Umbra is located in the central dark roofed forest, its hidden buildings polished and strangely lifelike in the shadows of the trees. False Symmetry, an unknown sort of dark fae, sits on the Darkwood Throne, and rules odd humans, fox-folk, bat-folk, and fae.

There are three other major continents, one for each cardinal direction. In the west, there is the Land of the Sunset, where the Empires rule the land. In the north, the Land of the Equinox, and in the south, the Land of the Solstice, are… nonexistent. For now.

[belanekra]

Interesting annotations on Acceptance by Jeff Vandermeer (part two)

From genius.com. I am fascinated by Cheney's fictional novel about Control. Like, what the hell man?

Once there had been biologists here, in numbers so great that the forgotten coast shook with the aftermath of their passage. These men and women bestrode the terrain like conquerors, sent by government money in the form, it was rumored, of gold bars well-hidden that could not devalue or decay like the money kept in banks. They were thus ungoverned by the dictates of barter or of neighborly responsibility that had bound this place for so long.

In the summer of that first year they established their headquarters in the ruins of the ghost town, a bivouac of scientists unprecedented for that place even when it had been alive. As they spread out across their migratory range, the biologists as observed by the locals began to carry out a series of arcane rituals. They shoved pieces of swamp grasses and bits of bark into vials. They put up tents out in “the field” as they called it, even when it was just black swamp. They used binoculars, scopes, and microscopes. They took readings with innumerable peculiar instruments. At times, they stopped in their labors to swear about the heat and humidity, which did not endear them.

The biologists tagged many living things — at least one of every creature that moved and breathed across the pine forests and the cypress swamp, the salt marshes and the beach. They took fine nylon nets and set up capture zones for songbirds, running clod-stepped to the rescue of what they had themselves endangered. Fragile wings and fragile beaks, heads to the side; small eyes looking up at giants that held their bodies in half-closed fists. They tagged so many things, had brought so many tranq darts, that the blue caps removed from the tips still showed up years later in the marshes, along the river bank or crushed into the gravel of the dirt roads.

In their heyday, at the zenith of their powers, some said their boot prints outnumbered the tracks of deer and raccoons and otters on the salt flats.

But over time, the effort that had quickened slowed, the impulse behind it dulled, and the biologists began to die out. Their mobile tents that had once dotted the camping ground near the lighthouse began to disappear. The sounds of their idle conversations before expeditions in the early morning became muted and infrequent. That last spring there might have been a hundred of them and by the fall only four or five. It was a mass extinction created by lack of grant renewal, a matching funds disaster, and a moving on of government attention, that great eye roving toward other lands and foreign wars.

–from the book Forgotten Coast History and Customs by Berit Ellingsen

-------

“Control indicates certainty about life. I have no certainty, and I wish nothing but to fade into the background, a wish that only ever makes people think of words like ‘wallflower’ because we live in a world where narcissism has been enshrined as a noble pursuit."

“I had no dead twin brother or sister. I had no specific trauma that made me this way. I am not defective, as more than one boyfriend suggested. I simply live apart. I simply have different interests. I simply do not privilege human activity…except when I do.”

–fragments scrawled in the margins of the biologist’s account, and then crossed out

-------

“As Chen…as Control sat there, in the dying warmth, in the mottled courtyard, by himself, finally by himself, he saw a tall, dark outline lit by the setting sun, which had given a dark umber glow to the singed edges of the swamp. He would recognize her outline anywhere by now. Still in her expedition clothes. So close to a gnarled tree that she was hard to see. There was a hardness in the pit of his stomach, and a tightness in his chest, but somehow not the fear. Somehow, Control was not afraid of this apparition.

She stood with her back to the Southern Reach, to the pull of the U, and looked out across the swamp, where Control imagined Area X lay. Just standing there, staring. Or, perhaps, with her eyes closed. Or perhaps she had no eyes. He could not tell from his vantage, and did not care to get closer. Just standing there. This person who should not have been there, this shell of a soul of whom Control had only found fragments. He could not help thinking that she had materialized because of his close study of her, even though he knew this wasn’t true. That he was just lucky enough to get a glimpse of some ongoing phenomenon. That she probably wasn’t real.

He stood at the window for quite a while, watching her from that distance. He thought about sounding the alarm. That occupied his thoughts for some time. Then he thought about going down to her, but he could not quite do that either, could not quite give himself that kind of permission.

Then, hidden by long tree shadows as long and narrows as bars, she began to walk around the edge of the swamp, until she was distant enough that she fell out of sight.

Control realized that his left hand was curled and his fingernails were dragging into his palm. He released, flexed his fingers, examined the angry white curved indentations, fringed flush with pink, that best expressed to him to proof of his anxiety.

The Southern Reach was over. The Southern Reach was done. He couldn’t stay, he realized. It wasn’t really a place he wanted to stay. It wasn’t really his sinking ship; the rest of the world was.

Had Grace seen her? Should he tell Grace he had seen her? Somehow this was the thought that filled him with dread, and not all of the others. For it would not be a mercy. Knowing what he did. So he let her fade into the dusk, and did nothing. He did not call to anyone. He did not try to follow her. He just…let her go, to do whatever she meant to do. That she had been in the world so long already made manifest how futile it would be to ‘contain’ her at this point. Control understood that all of this was unforgiveable. That it was a sighting and a lapse that if ever known would make him unqualified for any position within the agency. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care because now he had to be a selfish and do what he thought was good for him, whether it was or wasn’t."from Mike Cheney’s fiction manuscript about Control

-------

Final report on the linguist assigned to the twelfth expedition, one year after withdrawal from the expedition…

Subject is combative and paranoid when interviewed. Still refuses to admit that she scrubbed herself from the mission, but continues to claim that the former director strongly suggested she stand-down. In direct contradiction of testimony by the assistant director. Subject feels as if she has been “bullied and harassed.” Subject lives by herself, under a different name, says she feels “repatriated with reality, but not in quite the same way as before.” She has only rarely seen her family, and under carefully controlled conditions. A Central agent has followed her everywhere, and she knows this. She may or may not know her house has been bugged.

Subject was terse during the last interview, conducted in her backyard as she tended to her garden. I asked her if she felt free and floating and she said nothing back. Per L’s instructions, I gave her a few more prompts, but no recognition occurred.

The question arises, with no clear answer: Who or what deprogrammed her?

At the end, she handed me a letter she said would answer all of my questions. I was only to open it after I had left. I obeyed this request and opened the letter on the way back to Central.

There was only one word written inside, repeated three times.

“Annihilation.”

-------

“Does Area X have its own Lowry? What would that look like? What would it mean? Or does a Lowry only exist on the human spectrum of possibility?” – scribbled note by the former director

-------

“Control was beginning to get a sense of Whitby’s filthy habits, the way the illogical Whitby had limpet-like attached himself to the Southern Reach rocks. You couldn’t pry him off. God knows, Michael Cheney, the handsome and clearly uber-intelligent science director, had tried. Control had to give Cheney that. The man’s methodology might be eccentric, but what a brain! Not like that mewling Whitby, who for all anyone knew might be roaming the air ducts in imitation of a more dangerous creature. No, Whitby could go to the dogs, but Control thought Cheney might be the go-to guy for a lot of things. Because Control was at sea and Cheney was the captain he was looking for.” – from science director Mike Cheney’s fiction manuscript about Control

-------

“When is a lighthouse not a lighthouse? When it’s a distress beacon. Your focus on the island is a terrible miscue. A fixed attention that blinds you to the periphery–and the periphery is where everything is happening. Only certain member of the S&SB know what’s really happening, what phenomena we are really charting here. You have to give us more authority. You have to let us have more resources. – Henry”

–Note found in the pocket of an unidentifiable man slumped at a piano in the village bar.

-------

“Sometimes I believe Area X is coming in at me through my dreams. Because I don’t believe in dreaming any more. I don’t believe there are such things as images you conjure up at night, while asleep. That’s just another whisper, another way they hack into you, subvert how you think about things. Lord knows, we need subversion–we need it if want water to drink and air to breathe. But did it have to happen quite this way?” – from Whitby Allen’s private journal

-------

[cowbutch-chastity]

Homesick Vent I guess

So I was born and raised in one of the Appalachian Valleys but around 9 months ago moved a bit farther south to be with my lovely partner with a bit more affordable rent so we could save up money and eventually move back up to our home region. But this last weekend we took a vacation back home for my birthday, visiting some friends as well.

Basically getting to see even the outskirts of Appalachia and the valley again was really god damn nice. And now that I'm back to my place down south I'm realizing just how homesick I am. Southern coast swamps are pretty and all but god I miss the mountains. I miss my culture, the blue collar folk I grew up around and that my ma came from. I miss hiking on mountain trails and watching deer run through my backyard and the way my boots felt against trail dirt and gravel roads rather than wet humid mud.

I miss Coyotes and creek fishing and drinking beer by the turkey hill just a quick walk away from a forest. Miss the accents and banjo music and I even miss those shitty mountain churches that I'd never set foot in again. I miss walking out into the woods with my friends and finding old crumbling buildings and railroad tracks that would lead to bridges over offshoots of the Susquehanna.

I miss the little one road town I went to college at and the bookstore with the pride flag always up and the pub where I'd watch frat boys play pool and wish I had a bunch of lesbians to play with. I miss the ways mist would roll in from the river around the mountains in the early morning and it would look like something out of Middle Earth, and the way power lines cut through the hills like scars.

I just miss Appalachia. I miss my home.

[harleyification]

that swamp tribe korra au idea sounds g e n i u s

JSAIDOJSAJIODAS THANK YOU ANON!! YOU JUST MADE MY NIGHT!! here, have some more of my thoughts since I've been thinking of this AU non-stop and have been researching a LOT:

Korra's animal guide is still Naga, but I'm changing her species to fit Korra and the Swamp Tribe more! Here's a sketch I made a few days ago of Naga, the Wolverine-Deer!!

+ Some other sketches of animal guide ideas!

Naga's deer side is more inspired by the Sika Deer, since their adults tend to keep their spots! I chose the wolverine rather than the badger because wolverines are typically loner animals that can take down both predators and prey DOUBLE the size of them, which I think fits Korra's character more!

I've also been doodling around with Korra's design a little bit, since I don't think it would be a 1-to-1 copy of her canon design. Still, I haven't been able to settle down on anything just yet - especially since I've been trying to give the Foggy Swamp Tribe more of a culture rather than just being the Water Tribe's hillbilly cousins. I'm trying to combine both Native American tribes that lived in Florida and other wetlands with the obvious Vietnamese inspiration their tribe has! It's...taking me a bit, though, since I am researching multiple things at once while also being A Responsible Adult, skldjaldaja

So far, I'm settling down on these facts for my fic (cause I WILL BE WRITING THIS - SOMEDAY!!):

Senna is from the Foggy Swamp Tribe. Tonraq is still from the NWT. After his banishment, his ship veered off course and ran into the Swamp Tribe's delta, where he met Senna and decided to stay! He's not the chief, however, as I'm thinking that the most enlightened elders of the tribe are the elected leaders (maybe one has to meditate at the Banyan-Grove tree first before leading the FST?), and it is someone else at this current moment in time.

Sokka isn't dead! I headcanon that he died due to injuries in the Red Lotus attack, and..well...I don't think that goes exactly as planned in this AU, sjadkajdlade. Due to this, and thanks to him figuring out first that the water avatar was most likely Swamp Tribe, he has a bit of influence in Korra's life!

(Zukka will be in this btw, since I Love Them, but they won't take priority.)

Korra wasn't taken by the White Lotus when they discovered who she is. The Foggy Swamp Tribe is very protective of their own and who they see as family, loyal down to the bone, and when the White Lotus says that Korra has to go to their Southern Water Tribe facilities to be taught bending, they REFUSED it. I like to think that the family unit and community is INSANELY important to the Foggy Swamp Tribe, and just because Korra is the avatar doesn't mean that she needs to be taken away from her home.

So, basically, Korra grew up with her community and has childhood friends rather than being isolated like in canon! This changes a bit in how she approaches Mako, Bolin, and Asami when she meets up with them eventually. (AKA, fuck the romance triangle, I ain't doing that)

The entire plot of Korra has changed - due to Sokka being alive, Korra's stance on non-benders is different. Due to growing up in the Foggy Swamp Tribe, who teaches the ideals of everything and everyone is connected and that connection is important, Korra also goes about defeating Vaatu differently. Due to Tonraq never making it to the SWT, almost everyone thinks he's dead (mail can't exactly get through tall trees or extremely vicious animals), so Korra never even met Unalaq either...

That's all that I have thought of for now! Thank you for the ask, Im so SO HAPPY that you like my silly lil FST Korra AU!!!!

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Florida Hunting Season: A Month-by-Month Guide for Hunters

Florida is a hunter’s paradise with its diverse landscapes, abundant wildlife, and year-round hunting opportunities. Whether you're after wild hogs, alligators, deer, or small game, Florida’s hunting seasons are structured to offer a variety of thrilling experiences throughout the year. At Florida Trophy Outfitters, we specialize in providing unforgettable guided hunts for seasoned hunters and beginners alike.

This month-by-month guide will help you plan your hunting trips, understand the different game available, and make the most of each season in the Sunshine State.

January – Deer and Small Game Hunting

January is a great month for hunting in Florida as the weather cools down, making it more comfortable to explore the state's wilderness. During this time:

Whitetail Deer (Zone C): January marks the tail end of deer season in Florida, specifically in Zone C. Bucks are still active, and hunters can take advantage of the last days of deer hunting season.

Small Game: January is prime time for hunting rabbits, squirrels, and quail. These smaller game animals are abundant in Florida’s forests and farmlands.

February – Small Game and Wild Hogs

While February marks the close of most big game seasons, it’s an ideal time to focus on small game hunting and wild hog hunting.

Wild Hogs: Florida has a year-round season for wild hogs on private lands, making February an excellent time to target these elusive animals. At Florida Trophy Outfitters, we offer guided hog hunts that allow you to pursue these creatures in Florida’s dense forests and wetlands.

Squirrels and Rabbits: February is also a great time to continue small game hunting, as squirrels and rabbits are still active.

March – Wild Hogs and Turkey Hunting Begins

March brings the excitement of spring turkey season, one of the most anticipated events in Florida's hunting calendar.

Osceola Turkey: Starting in March, spring turkey season kicks off in southern Florida for the Osceola subspecies. Florida is one of the only states where you can hunt the Osceola turkey, which makes it a prime destination for turkey hunters across the country.

Wild Hogs: If turkey isn't your focus, March is still perfect for hunting wild hogs, as they remain active year-round.

April – Peak of Spring Turkey Season

In April, the Osceola turkey season continues, extending to the central and northern regions of Florida. This month offers some of the best turkey hunting in the state:

Osceola Turkey (Zones A, B, C): April is the peak of turkey season, and hunters flock to Florida to try their hand at bagging one of these prized birds. The Osceola turkey is known for its elusive nature and unique habitat, making it a challenging yet rewarding hunt.

May – Wild Hog Hunting in Full Swing

With spring turkey season wrapping up, May is the perfect time to turn your attention back to wild hog hunting. Florida’s wild hog population is thriving, making them an exciting target for hunters throughout the year. The warmer weather means wild hogs are more active in the early mornings and evenings, and with guided hunts at Florida Trophy Outfitters, you'll have the best chance to land a trophy hog.

June – Alligator Hunts Begin

As summer heats up, June marks the start of Florida’s alligator hunting season. Alligator hunting is one of the most thrilling outdoor experiences you can have in Florida.

Alligator Hunts: June through November is the season for alligator hunting, and with a permit, hunters can pursue these giant reptiles. At Florida Trophy Outfitters, our expert guides help you navigate Florida’s swamps and marshes for an adrenaline-filled alligator hunt.

July – Alligator and Wild Hog Hunts

July is all about alligator hunting and wild hogs. With summer in full swing, these species are highly active, making for some exciting hunts.

Alligator Hunts: The warm weather makes alligators more visible on the surface, increasing your chances of a successful hunt.

Wild Hogs: Early morning or evening wild hog hunts are best during the hot months of summer. Florida Trophy Outfitters offers night-time hog hunts with thermal optics, making July an ideal time to take on these elusive animals.

August – Alligator Hunting in Full Force

As alligator season continues through August, this month is prime time for harvesting some of the largest alligators of the year. Our guided alligator hunts at Florida Trophy Outfitters provide everything you need for a successful and safe hunting experience.

September – Deer Season Opens in Southern Florida

September brings excitement for deer hunters as the season for whitetail deer opens in Zone A, located in the southern part of Florida. Early archery season begins, offering the chance to take down a buck in Florida’s unique hunting environments.

Deer (Zone A): September marks the start of deer hunting with bows and crossbows in the southern zone.

Alligator Hunts: Alligator season remains open, giving hunters multiple game options in September.

October – Archery and Muzzleloader Deer Hunting

October is one of the most active months in Florida’s hunting calendar, with several opportunities for deer hunters.

Archery & Crossbow (Zone B): As deer season progresses north, archery season opens in Zone B.

Muzzleloader Season (Zone A): For those looking to use a traditional muzzleloader, October offers the chance to hunt deer with this unique weapon.

Alligator & Wild Hogs: Don’t forget, both alligators and wild hogs are still in season, so there’s plenty of game to pursue.

November – General Gun Deer Season Begins

November kicks off general gun season for deer, and the excitement is palpable. With the cooler weather, deer are more active, making it a great time to head into the field.

Deer (General Gun, Zone A): Firearms season begins, and hunters can use rifles to take down whitetail deer.

Alligator Hunting: November also wraps up alligator season, so it’s your last chance to bag a big gator before the season ends.

December – Deer and Small Game Hunts

December is a great time for deer hunting, with gun seasons continuing in many parts of the state. It’s also an opportunity to get back into small game hunting.

Deer (Zone B): General gun season for deer continues in Zone B, offering excellent opportunities for a successful hunt.

Squirrels, Rabbits, and Quail: December is perfect for small game hunting as cooler weather makes these animals more active.

Plan Your Next Hunt with Florida Trophy Outfitters

Florida offers an incredible diversity of hunting opportunities throughout the year, and at Florida Trophy Outfitters, we provide guided hunts that ensure your experience is both successful and memorable. Whether you’re after wild hogs, deer, or alligators, we have the expertise and resources to help you make the most of Florida’s hunting seasons.

Book your next hunt today and get ready to experience the thrill of hunting in Florida’s beautiful and wild landscapes!

Conclusion

With year-round hunting opportunities, Florida is a top destination for hunters of all experience levels. Whether you prefer wild hog hunting, the excitement of alligator hunting, or the challenge of harvesting a trophy deer, Florida Trophy Outfitters is here to guide you through every season.

[hornedhooves]

OTHERKIN IDENTITIES !

(that you’ll see on this blog)

otherkin: black cat therian and kintype (different things lol), caninekin, vampirekin, satyrkin, creature/monster/cryptidkin, ghostkin, spiritkin, and a nuanced, unlabeled, and complicated combination of angelkin and demonkin.

otherhearted: bat-hearted, goat-hearted, red (deer) stag-hearted.

fictionkin: multiples scps, sam winchester, ethel cain.

videogamekin: the long dark, firewatch, skyrim elder scrolls, resident evil 7, puppet combo & chilla’s art games, fnaf 3, questioning others.

place/objectkin: carpathian mountains, snowy mountains, cabin in the woods, liminal spaces, library, castles and old churches, swamp/bayou, the moon, forests.

conceptkin: creepy/weird/strangecorekin, dark academiakin, gothickin, regional/rural/southern gothickin, castlevania (tv show) kin.

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Nepal safari,

Nepal safari,

Nestled in the lap of the Himalayas, Nepal is renowned for its majestic mountains, rich culture, and vibrant heritage. However, beyond the towering peaks and ancient temples lies a hidden gem that often goes unnoticed—the wildlife. While Nepal is famous for its trekking routes and mountaineering adventures, it also offers an incredible safari experience that takes you deep into the heart of its lush jungles and diverse ecosystems.

The Enchanting Wilderness of Nepal

Embarking on a safari in Nepal unveils a world teeming with exotic flora and fauna. From the subtropical forests of the Terai region to the alpine meadows of the Himalayan foothills, every corner of Nepal boasts unique biodiversity waiting to be explored.

Chitwan National Park: A Haven for Wildlife Enthusiasts

One of Nepal's most famous safari destinations is Chitwan National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Located in the subtropical lowlands of southern Nepal, Chitwan is home to an astounding array of wildlife, including the endangered one-horned rhinoceros, Royal Bengal tiger, Asian elephant, and over 500 species of birds. Visitors to Chitwan can embark on jeep safaris, canoe rides along the Rapti River, and guided nature walks to encounter these magnificent creatures in their natural habitat.

Bardia National Park: Off the Beaten Path

For those seeking a more remote and off-the-beaten-path safari experience, Bardia National Park offers an unparalleled wilderness adventure. Situated in the far western region of Nepal, Bardia is less visited than Chitwan but equally rewarding. Here, visitors can spot elusive species such as the Gangetic dolphin, wild elephant, and swamp deer, as well as an abundance of birdlife. Jungle walks, elephant safaris, and cultural encounters with the indigenous Tharu community are just some of the highlights of a safari in Bardia.