#there are also a lot of predators/dangerous animals

[crossed-paws]

Crossed Paws, Book 1: Rising

The Characters of Crossed Paws

CREEKCLAN

Territory: a small, freshwater creek and its surrounding marshlands at the edge of the river

Prey: River lamprey, European eels, barbels, bitterlings, bleaks, roaches, chubs, dace, minnow, gudgeons, rudds, tench, redfin perch, zanders, ruffes, Wel's catfish, burbots, curlews, water voles, spoon-billed sandpipers, black-tailed godwits, Madagascar pochards, mallards, citrine wagtail, snipe, moorhens, water shrews

Dangers: Flooding, unstable ground, landslides, northern pikes, European conger eel, cranes, adders, herons, egrets, geese, swans, northern harriers, osprey, beavers, mink, river otters

Camp location: the remnants of an ancient twoleg cave dug into the rocks

Current High Saint and Herald: Dabblestar and Duckthorn

CreekClan traces its lineage back to the legendary Clan of Agile Swimming, a group renowned for their mastery of water and the unique environment of their marshy territory. Over time, CreekClan has evolved into a distinct and influential presence among the four Clans, standing out as the only Clan to successfully forge alliances with each of the other Clans. This rare achievement speaks volumes about CreekClan's role in the broader community, where they serve as a crucial bridge between the often competitive and territorial groups. Their ability to maintain these alliances is a testament to the diplomatic skills of their leaders and the naturally empathetic and caring disposition of CreekClan cats.

The strength of CreekClan's alliances is also supported by their strategic advantage: an abundant and consistent supply of prey. The rich waters and marshlands of their territory provide an endless bounty, enabling CreekClan to trade prey for other resources that they may lack. This trading network not only fosters goodwill and cooperation among the Clans but also ensures that CreekClan remains well-supplied and connected. Whether it is their natural inclination toward empathy or their wise use of resources, CreekClan’s unique position as the central ally among the Clans underscores their importance and influence within the forest.

THE CATS OF CREEKCLAN

HIGH SAINT

Dabblestar — short-haired blue ticked tabby tom with hazel eyes

HERALD

Duckthorn — short-haired black she-cat with amber eyes

SHAMAN

SCHOLAR

Fallensplash — short-haired cream mackerel tabby tom with green eyes

HEALERS

Furzecoat — long-haired black classic tabby she-cat with yellow eyes, herbalist branch

Bonewatcher — short-haired black classic tabby tom with gold eyes, herbalist branch

WARRIORS

Acaciafoot — short-haired white tom with copper eyes, sentinel branch

Batfrost — short-haired black classic tabby tom with copper eyes, hunter branch

Giantbranch — long-haired black and red spotted tortoiseshell she-cat with gold eyes, mentor branch

APPRENTICES

Trainee Oak — short-haired red tom with amber eyes

BLESSEDS

Myrtlethicket — short-haired blue she-cat with yellow eyes

Olivebee — short-haired chocolate and red mackerel tortoiseshell she-cat with yellow eyes

SACREDS

Sacred Heather — short-haired black she-cat with amber eyes

Sacred Fire — short-haired red spotted tabby tom with amber eyes

Sacred Adder — long-haired blue mackerel tabby tom with green eyes

Sacred Kestrel — short-haired chocolate and red mackerel tortoiseshell-tabby she-cat with amber eyes

Sacred Claw — short-haired red classic "pseudo-tabby" she-cat with hazel eyes

Sacred Thorn — short-haired blue tom with copper eyes

Sacred Birch — short-haired black and red mackerel calico she-cat with copper eyes

ELDERS

Oddcrest — short-haired white tom with gold eyes

Frogfur — short-haired black she-cat with copper eyes

CREEKCLAN FAMILY TREES

[rxttenfish]

tbh just overall i feel like people massively overstate the danger of venomous and poisonous organisms. like it's bizarre to me how australia is so greatly overstated in terms of danger when the largest native land animal they have is the kangaroo, and completely ignore that asia and africa have elephants and rhinos, africa also has hippos, and basically every other continent has a native big cat that has at least one instance of turning maneater. don't even get me started about bears. (yes, i know about saltwater crocodiles too, but considering their wide range and how many other continents also have large dangerous crocodilians, i do not think this can be included as unique to australia alone.)

like venomous animals in general are far easier to deal with in terms of general disposition alone, let alone the survival rate for envenomation in comparison to getting gored + trampled by a buffalo.

like this isn't even saying that venomous and poisonous animals aren't dangerous still or that kangaroos can't also be highly dangerous to deal with (i also have this same thought about people who think they can fight a fox/raccoon/coyote), but i'll still never understand how many people would rather deal with one silverback gorilla over five black mambas in a shopping mall. you probably have already occupied a space of that size with that many venomous snakes (if you do have venomous snakes around you) and just didn't know it. there's a reason you can handle venomous snakes with a snake hook at all and can't even be in the same enclosure as a gorilla.

[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)

[onenicebugperday]

I am somewhat happy that jumping spiders are becoming popular as pets and even people who normally don't like spiders seem to find them cute, but people have GOT to stop acting like they are miniature mammals who want love and affection and pets and want to hang out with you.

I have seen countless posts in jumper groups from people asking why their jumper tries to escape when they're holding it or seems skittish or threat poses at them. It's because you are a giant predator and they want to get away from you. They don't get any happy chemicals from handling like mammals would.

I'm starting to see this in millipede groups as well. "Why is my millipede secreting this liquid on me?" Because it does not want to be handled. It's stressful for the animal, and stress can kill them.

Not only does it stress them, but often taking them out of their enclosure is dangerous for them - I have seen a lot of posts from people whose spider escaped and was injured or was crushed in the door of the enclosure because they were taking it in and out frequently. Drops can also be harmful, especially for larger invertebrates like tarantulas and bigger millipedes.

In general, invertebrate pets are not going to be a good option if you want to handle something frequently. There are definitely some species and individuals who tolerate it more, and if you're an experienced keeper, you can learn the signs of a stressed animal and only handle ones that are chill about it. But the majority of the time, they should be left alone and observed only.

[sunderwight]

Further speculation on Shen Yuan transmigrating in some kind of Beast:

Werewolf Shen Qingqiu.

And like, major emphasis on the wolf, in his case. Not wolfman. Every full moon Shen Qingqiu has to make arrangements for himself to turn into a gigantic silvery-white wolf that retains extremely little of his consciousness, and mostly just seems to want to do Wolf Things, though according to PIDW and all information he has on the matter, he ought to be turning into a violent and bloodthirsty predator.

However, it turns out that the wolf form does retain some awareness from the mind/soul of the human, meaning that the reason SJ's wolf was so incredibly unsafe to be around was because it was constantly trying to process SJ's trauma in wild animal terms. So, it was hostile towards the vast majority of humans and in a heightened state of anxiety, always anticipating violence (and reacting accordingly) whenever something unexpected happened. Matters were not helped by SJ's decision to try and lock himself up for every transformation, which of course freaked his wolf out even more (trapped) and resulted in self-harm as it desperately tried to escape. It was just that SJ interpreted the self-harm as a sign that the wolf was so extremely violent that it would cannibalize itself rather than go a single night without the taste of blood.

SY, who is a lot less traumatized, conversely has a much more calm and curious wolf. Like he's extremely cautious and nervous about the whole thing, because he's expecting it to be violent based on his information, and since he doesn't retain much awareness of his transformations he has little idea of what his wolf-self does. But he also isn't great at locking himself up like the original goods did, and he never really seems to wake up covered in blood or anything? Once or twice he thinks he might have hunted a rabbit, but they definitely were rabbits and not like his subconscious somehow going after children in the middle of a wilderness somewhere, because when he came to the wolf had brought the leftover bunny bits along back to the ruined temple he was supposed to be shutting himself up into.

The new Shen Qingqiu consequently gets a bit complacent about the whole thing. He can only blame himself. Maybe he should have anticipated Luo Binghe, with his boundless curiosity and interest in his shizun, would notice the oddities in his schedule and follow him out one night. Everyone's supposed to believe that he's just going to brothels and engaging in purely mundane debauchery, though, so why would Binghe doubt his story?

But he did, and so of course Luo Binghe ends up witnessing his shizun's terrible transformation into a wretched and hated beast. Stunned, the young disciple stands transfixed (no doubt in horror) in the moonlight. The wolf sees him, and though Shen Qingqiu doesn't retain much memory, he recollects the running, the leaping, the... uh... licking...?

Well. Turns out that even Shen Qingqiu's subconscious wolf mind recognizes Luo Binghe as pack, and thank goodness too, because at least he didn't attack him!

Although after that it becomes an extreme challenge to explain to Luo Binghe why he can't accompany Shen Qingqiu for his transformations every month. It's not safe, the wolf is unpredictable and Shen Qingqiu can't promise that he won't startle or suddenly change his tune and lash out, and even though Binghe's cultivation is progressing in leaps and bounds, the wolf also isn't limited to normal mortal strength. It would be able to track his scent and follow him relentlessly, chasing him down to catch and pin him beneath its massive paws, and... Binghe why is your face so red? Are you feeling alright? If it's too frightening, then let's not describe it any further, but the point is that it's dangerous.

Shen Qingqiu has to put his foot down. In the end, he has his suspicions that Binghe is still circumventing him, as he could swear he sometimes remembers running around the wilderness with company. (Binghe is absolutely sneaking out to go spend time with Wolf Shizun.) But there's nothing concrete enough to be certain. Meanwhile, Luo Binghe has at least agreed to keep it secret (for now -- probably not once the time comes for Shen Qingqiu to be put on trial) and fusses over his shizun, helping him keep track of the moon scheduling and always making sure he has a full belly before he goes into wilderness seclusion (Shen Qingqiu never says, but somehow Luo Binghe guesses anyway that he doesn't like waking up to find that the wolf had a snack during the night...)

Another hazard: lycanthropy in the PIDW setting is a curse. Like admittedly it's kind of a kickass one, but it still has tons of negative associations, most commonly befalling impoverished individuals or travelers who get bitten by wild wolf demons, and survive only to find that a piece of the wolf's spirit has gotten stuck to their own. Cultivators with lycanthropy are often associated with demons and disrepute, like Wu Yanzi, and there are countless tales of them turning on their own people or being revealed as violent, depraved criminals. It's only slightly more acceptable than being a demon outright.

In other words it's not a desirable circumstance.

And yet, for some reason, Luo Binghe is reprehensibly lapse in his protections against lycanthropy. Shen Qingqiu has told him all of the precautions he knows against it, and yet it's almost like Binghe keeps doing the exact opposite things! Listen, wolves are cool. Shen Qingqiu knows that. He's actually kind of fine with turning into one, since it seems to be less of a ravenous beast situation than he'd feared. But there are still social consequences to this kind of a thing! Luckily, it doesn't actually matter much because even with his uncharacteristic youthful irresponsibility, Binghe's heavenly demon blood protects him from ever being cursed. The only way he'd get lycanthropy would be if he deliberately let a werewolf bite him and then just refused to excise the curse, and even then, he could purge the tainted wolf spirit from him just by force of will whenever he wanted.

Seriously, though! It's only when Shen Qingqiu points out that Luo Binghe is going to make people suspicious with all his negligence towards basic precautions that Binghe finally smartens up about it.

(Luo Binghe, out in the woods during a full moon: Wolf Shizun please bite me? Bite Binghe? Then we can be together every full moon! Look here I'll stick my hand in your mouth... just, just chomp down... no don't lick... *sigh*...)

Anyway, the plot still goes mostly the same, except that when Shen Qingqiu put into the water prison it's the full moon. He expects this is part of Luo Binghe's plan against him -- Binghe probably couldn't reveal the lycanthropy without also admitting he'd known before and helped hide it, but this way, Shen Qingqiu can just get caught as a wolf by the palace guards. But Luo Binghe's just been so frazzled and distressed by everything that he genuinely forgot what phase the moon was on. Shen Qingqiu's expecting a lot of things when he wakes up after transforming in the Water Prison, but being back out of the Water Prison and snuggled up to the protagonist's chest wasn't on the list.

Turns out that after his confrontation with Luo Binghe and the Little Palace Mistress, Gongyi Xiao went to check on him and found him transformed. After Gongyi Xiao alerted the rest of the palace, the Palace Master determined that Shen Qingqiu being a werewolf was as good as a confirmation of guilt, and had the wolf dragged out to be killed. Luo Binghe intervened, Shen Qingqiu took off, and between one thing and another the whole night was spent with Huan Hua and Cang Qiong cultivators trying to catch him (for different reasons).

Of course it was Luo Binghe who eventually cornered the terrified wolf, at which point the wolf actually, finally did bite him. But when Binghe failed to react, it whimpered and went back to its usual behavior, and let Binghe lead it out of the city and off to its usual territory near Cang Qiong. The wolf then proceeded to act like an overjoyed puppy whose owner had finally come back from war, until Binghe broke down and sobbed himself to sleep. It must have curled up onto his chest afterwards.

Shen Qingqiu is deeply embarrassed, but... somehow Luo Binghe doesn't seem to be taking revenge on him?

He's going to need to treat that bite wound soon, though.

Binghe.

Binghe, you are going to treat that--

[larcenywrites]

Top 5 Logan's kinks 👀?

These are in no particular order!

Top 5 Kinks

Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW | no pronouns used for reader | there’s like- two cutesy moments if it counts for anything :3

Breeding/bare- Sure, Logan’s a man. He’s obviously going to prefer no condom. It just feels better for both parties! But Logan is a possessive man, and a territorial beast. It’s only natural for him to mark you in the most primal way he can! But in the case you are able to get pregnant… that’s actually terrifying. Logan is terrified of actually having kids… (which isn’t to say he doesn’t want them… but there are a lot of other problems involved with that 😅) But at his core, Logan is an animal. More so than a “normal” human. It’s literally just another part of his predator instinct. It doesn’t matter if it’s a rough fucking or making love, once he gets into it, you’ll have to remind him several times to pull out (assuming you remember yourself 😩). It also doesn’t help that he can literally smell when you’re ovulating 😳 he gets… pretty ornery— if he even can be more ornery than normal! He’s possessive and horny and really struggling to care despite the risk and his fears 😮‍💨 And with his nose buried in your neck the whole time, not very subtle as he breathes in your scent and damn near panting, it’s really all he can think about 🥴

Collaring- It probably took a lot of practice and maybe a little bit of taming, but Logan is very fond of collar time :3 I have a lot to say about this one, so there’s actually hcs right here! And maybe I just couldn’t think of another kink ;)

Play-fighting/Rough play- Obviously, the constraints of this kink will heavily depend on you 😅 But anything from a quick wrestle to digging your nails into his throat to—if you rile him up enough in the right situation—straight-up stabbing him is on the turn-on list 🤠 You could push him back on the bed a little too confidently, and you’ll activate that fighter instinct... and Logan is actually just pretty playful 🥹 He’s far too strong for you to actually push around very much, but he still likes to have you fight back ;) Don’t worry! Even when he puts you in a headlock between his big ol biceps, he’s still gentle! But fight back!!!!! Even if you know you won’t win!!! Bite his arm, kick him, something!!!!! Maybe having you struggle in his grasp turns him on (prey drive???), but actually having you fight back gets him rock-hard 😩 Training in the Danger Room? The others definitely give you both a hard time at every session now after a spar turned a little more hands-on one time… it was one time 😒 Back in the bedroom, he can enjoy some general rough play as well. Maybe it’s the healing factor, maybe he’s become quite the masochist after a century or two of living, but don’t be afraid to claw down his back and bite as hard as you need into his shoulder! Choke him while he’s collared, or when you’re feeling pretty confident while he’s letting you top for once! Unfortunately, he won’t have anything to show for all your hard work :( but he enjoyed it!

Grinding/dry humping- Logan is a man of action! And an impatient one at that when he’s gotten riled up. It probably took a while to get him into the groove of non-penetrative sex! Besides, sometimes that’s your only option 😅 But Logan is definitely a true believer now 😈 Wake him up by grinding bare on his tummy, or invade his little stress relief hideaway where he’s smoking and/or drinking to hump his thigh 😘 Watch him roll his head back and close his eyes with a sighed grunt of satisfaction. He doesn’t need to watch. Much more into the feeling, your smell, pawing at your thigh/ass… When it comes to full-on dry humping, the man probably swears more and gets more choked up than during penetrative sex 🥴 And for once, he prefers to be bottom while you ground your hips into his. He has to admit, there’s something about the friction of his jeans and the fact you’re both still fully clothed that’s surprisingly way more hot… or perhaps you’re even both still in uniform! Sometimes the adrenaline rush after training just can’t wait 😘

Scenting/smelling- Maybe not necessarily a kink? But it’s definitely something he does on a regular basis, sometimes without either of you really thinking about it! Sometimes he’s just being playful with it! Like sticking his head under your shirt and rubbing his face on your tummy a few times before just resting there with that heavy sigh dogs do when they get comfy in their bed 🥰 If he’s in a good enough mood and tired enough, you might even get a head bump or two to the shoulder while out with the others! It’s definitely not always so innocent and sweet, though… He can pick up smells better than a damn bloodhound, and, combined with that territorial instinct mentioned earlier, there’s definitely going to be some freaky stuff going on behind closed doors 😏 Yes, it’s probably going to be a bit embarrassing every time he sniffs your sex before going down on you. And when sticks his nose in the wet spots he just made you leave on the end 😐 And probably when he sniffs your neck before rubbing his face there. He’s absolutely gotten possessive about you smelling like another man… or maybe he just really doesn’t like waking up in bed to the smell of LeBeau lingering right next to him 😒 Cuddling is one thing, but when he starts trying to subtly rub you down with his face? Well, it’s not very subtle 😐 But he’ll make sure you smell like him again 😌 It settles his territorial side. It’s comforting, in a way! But it also definitely turns him on a little without him meaning for it! Especially when you walk through and he can smell his own arousal on you from the day before ;)

[purplealmonds]

My Mononoke and Sky: CoTL fandom wires getting crossed because I just got back from a Sky art exhibit/panel and the newly revealed Mononoke's worldbuilding lore confirms the existence of multiple medicine sellers.

So I made some Mononoke-inspired Sky kids to get it out of my system. Or would it be considered a Sky-inspired Medicine Seller? 🤔

Some design insights and lore below the cut!

Sky-Kusu's haircut and tunic are modeled after a moth's. For the uninitiated, in Sky we call new players "moths" because they fly awkwardly and are attracted to bright lights.

The gold necklace around Sky-Kusu's neck resembles both anime-Kusu's necklace and Sky's Season of Revival pendant. He probably arrived in this realm while that season was running.

Sky-Kusu's cape is shaped like a butterfly (which he has an affinity for) and emblazoned with Sky mural patterns. I made it blue as a nod to anime-Kusu's kimono and the Beta Cape, a cosmetic gifted to playtesters. Sky-Kusu's existence predates that of Sky so that's thematically appropriate.

Instead of carrying a medicine box, Sky-Kusu has a large butterfly pot. These butterflies are a silvery blue as a nod to kitsunebi- foxfire- which is said to contain the life force of a kitsune which Kusu is often associated with. Butterflies in Sky help rekindle light, which is especially crucial for Sky-Kusu because...

Sky-Kusu only has one "Winged Light" - his "Hyper" form- hence the sun dog halo around Sky-Hyper's head.

Sky-Hyper's haircut is honestly just an aesthetic choice. It's one of my favorite hairstyles in Sky, and allows for some fun patterning in the buzzcut area.

Sky-Hyper's costume design is heavily inspired by his movie counterpart's. However, because Sky doesn't allow cosmetics that reveal too much of the skin, he's also wearing what's essentially a modesty tube top and leggings lol. It has the unintended side effect of making him appear more feminine-presenting, which I'm not entirely bothered about.

The markings on Sky-Hyper's skin are inspired by his original markings and star constellations. They're colored silvery blue for kitsunebi. Coincidentally, a lot of spirits in sky are also tinted blue. Hmmm...

The Winged Light scattered throughout the Sky realms deeply unsettle Hyper. They are so much like him, yet have no personality or minds to speak of. Soulless batteries. Although it is to their detriment, their shared body subconsciously rejects these Winged Lights.

This leaves them quite vulnerable to dark creatures in the more dangerous realms. A solid blow from a dark dragon knocks 5-7 Winged Lights out of an unfortunate sky kid. If Sky-Kusu gets hit with his single winged light...

Because weapons are forbidden in Sky, I swapped Sky-Kusu's exorcism sword out with an exorcism...lantern-on-a-stick? It has a little bell and tassel attached to it too!

Since the exorcism sword is traditionally modeled after a fearsome creature, I made the lantern's color palette match that of a dark dragon. At its full power, it can "exorcise" an entire shard eruption in a single blow.

Normally, the exorcism lantern's light isn't "unleashed" unless specific conditions are met to exorcise entity. However, in the Sky realms where light is freely given and shared, the lantern can be lit by other sky kids but burns a weaker flame akin to a sky kid's candle.

Because of this perpetual fire, Hyper cannot fully fall into dormancy. This is fine. He keeps Sky-Kusu company in this strange new world.

[seelie-buddy]

Hello, i hope you're having a good day...

Can i request genshin impact character (hybrid) like gorou, tighnari to do something like 'animal' instinctly.

If you add another character it's okay too...

Peculiar Traits

summary : some interesting characteristics of Tighnari, Gorou, and Ganyu that highlight their wondrous heritage

contains : just the characters using their unique traits to keep you away from harm's way ; fluff ; gn!reader, this drabble is written in second person

word count : 500

It's etched into Gorou to protect those he cherishes, being the general of Watatsumi's army. So when matters relate to you, of course he's going all out to ensure your well-being! His gut feeling is almost always accurate, and he does everything in his power to keep you away from harm's way.

If you're going some place dangerous, he will see to it that someone escorts you, or would himself accompany you on your trip. If there's any trouble that plagues you, just say the word, and he'll be ready to help.

If you were hanging out with some person Gorou didn't have a good feeling about, turns out they did actually have foul motives. And when things go south during expeditions, you know that Gorou will be there to watch your back.

Things like these brings you to fully trust the general, and you've learned to always keep in mind his warnings.

Tighnari is one to be cautious, and his sensitivity to sound and smell only helps him ensure your safety. He will be especially sure to keep an ear out for any potential threats everytime you accompany him on his patrols.

The forest may feel homey to those who have resided in the rainforest for a while, but it doesn't mean that it is without its dangers; the remnants of the withering, wildlife, and monsters need to be accounted for.

But with Tighnari by your side, you needn't worry! You can always put your utmost trust in him, and his understanding of the environment; the way he recognises danger from the sounds often unheard by others, and his knowledge regarding both the flora and fauna are unparalleled.

Any disturbances in an immediate proximity never goes unnoticed by him, and his reactions to said disturbances are swift; the lack of birds chirping has him alerted at the presence of a predator. Or when the polluted stench is in the air, he is quick to steer you away from the upcoming withering zone.

Ganyu is half-qilin, half-human.

She's calm, and reserved by nature; that's what being half-qilin grants her. Her sereneness is just like the soft flurry of snow in winter, or like the cool breeze on a summer day. She's always willing to lend you a hand, assist you in all manners possible, and merely her presence is all you need to relax as a smile grows in your face.

She is half-qilin, and it reflects in her traits.

Ganyu is half human; it shows in those moments of impulsivity. If someone dare speak ill of those she respects and cherishes– especially you– and they may as well be prepared for her (albeit supple) wrath. She will see to it that they will apologise and refuse to spout such nonsense again. It is in moments like these that you see that she does, in fact, possess emotions and feelings beyond that of tranquillity.

Ganyu is half-human, and it reflects in her traits.

a/n : I hope this was what you were looking for, anon!! No, seriously, I really hope I didn't misunderstand what you were asking for;;

p/s : A little ramble about my thoughts on this:

I didn't really come by the opportunity to write for Ganyu, and I believe she's underrated!

As for Gorou, he resembles the dog breed shiba inu, and apparently dogs (or just animals in general) have a very good sense of danger, whether it be people or things!

I've seen a lot of people relate Tighnari to fennec foxes (because of the ears) but his lore states him to be a descendant of Valuka Shuna (also called Tighnarians) so it's hard to place any specific traits on his species, given he's the only one we know of his kind

[tra-archive]

Twitter has exploded with this whole “would you rather be stuck in the woods with a man or a bear” debate, and it shows that once again males cannot grasp women’s reasoning for choosing the bear.

Almost every woman I’ve seen online and talked to in person has picked the bear. Of course, males are using this as an opportunity to call out women for being dumb and not knowing how dangerous bears are. And of course, they’re wrong. So let me clarify something.

We are aware that bears are dangerous. We know bears can attack. We know they’re wild animals. We know not to fuck with bears, especially a mother and her cubs. We’ve heard all the graphic details about what happens in a bear attack. Bears are dangerous.

However, a bear operates on instinct. Bears don’t want to attack you, they’d rather be left alone. Bears will attack you if you’re perceived as a threat to them, their food, their space, or their cubs. Their behavior is, for the most part, predictable, and we have lots of knowledge on how to stay safe while in an area with bears. I’ve been hiking in bear country before, I’ve even seen bears by my house, and I followed all the tips that I was supposed to do. We left each other alone and I have never been hurt or even noticed by a bear.

So why are women choosing bears over men?

A bear won’t attack and kill you if you say you don’t want to go on a date with it.

A bear won’t rape you.

A bear won’t lie and manipulate you to get what it wants. A bear doesn’t hide the fact that it’s a predator that can be violent.

A bear won’t call you a bitch, cunt, whore, slut, feminazi, or any other degrading term.

A bear won’t try to justify sexual assault based on what you’re wearing.

Did a group of bears team up and torture a schoolgirl for 40 days until she died a horrible death? No, that was men.

Did a bear shoot innocent college girls because he was a violent misogynist? No, that was also a man.

Didn’t bears create an entire violent ideology that states they’re entitled to sex and that women should be forced to sleep with them? Oh wait, that’s incels.

Do bears make up almost 99% of sexual assault perpetrators? Nope, men again.

We know that all bears are dangerous. But we have no way of knowing which men are. Sure, it’s “NoT aLl MeN,” but it’s a significant enough number of them that we are wary of all. And instead of considering why women are choosing a wild animal over them and thinking “yeah, their reasoning makes sense,” many men have doubled down and said that they hope we get mauled by bears, further proving our point.

I CHOOSE THE BEAR.

[dol--blathanna]

Thinking a lot about Orym choosing a rabbit when asked what animal he would pick if cursed with lycanthropy.

Because, it makes sense. Orym is small, quick, agile, jumps well, and is highly perceptive. That definitely evokes rabbit imagery. But a lot of Orym’s identity is also tied up with being a protector – giving people AC bumps, the shield being as much a part of his fighting style as his sword, even his title: Saviour Blade of the Tempest. He wants to be a “Shield that protects Exandria”; his priorities about saving the gods are less about the gods themselves, and more about protecting the people of Exandria from the unintended consequences and bloodshed of releasing Predathos. And it would’ve been very easy to pick a large, strong predator to try and evoke the sense of a protector – a wolf, for example, an animal associated with loyalty and protecting its pack. Yet Orym chose a rabbit.

And I think that’s interesting, because rabbits are often seen as ‘cute’ animals – but they’re also a prey animal. In fact, they’re a common food source for many animals across several ecosystems: foxes, wolves, wild cats, dogs, birds of prey like eagles or owls, coyotes, stoats, and humans (and that’s just off the top of my head). Rabbits are skittish, easily frightened; to be rabbit-hearted is to be timid or cowardly. They are not generally associated with fierceness or prowess in fighting. Mice and rats are prey animals too, but typically seen as vermin (rabbits are sometimes seen as vermin too, but a farmer could eat a rabbit – they wouldn’t eat a rat). Deer are prey, but they have hooves and antlers that bring a danger to hunting them, for any animal – the difficulties of hunting rabbits are more related to their evasiveness, speed and good hearing than any life-threatening danger they might pose. Rabbits are, first and foremost, prey animals. They are killed and eaten, so that another animal might live.

Which made me think a lot about one of Orym’s other key traits: self-sacrifice. Bait and switch doesn’t just bump up his ally’s ACs, it specifically switches their place to put him directly in harm’s way. Goading attack is meant to encourage enemies to attack him instead of his friends. He literally made a deal with a hag, essentially exchanging his own life for power to protect his friends. How many times has he gone down in a fight? He’s not the only tank – but unlike Ashton (and Chetney, who also uses ‘self-sacrifice’ in his fighting style with his blood curses) he has no abilities to reduce the damage from the hits he takes (barbarian rage and the werewolf form).

(Side note: I think it’s pretty interesting that Chetney, the wolf, has attacked Orym, the rabbit, more than anyone else when losing control. That Orym’s facial scar was given to him by a friend, not a foe).

Of course, Orym isn’t the only character with self-sacrificial tendencies (FCG wins by a landslide), but I just can’t stop thinking about how weirdly perfect it is that he chose a rabbit for his animal. Rabbits are prey animals. They are eaten, so that other animals may live. Orym takes the hits, he goads and switches with his team mates to put himself in danger, he makes a deal with a hag at the cost of his own life. He’s a soldier, throwing his life away for a cause over and over again because Ludinus must be stopped, because Keyleth has put her trust in him, because it’s the only way to protect his friends, to protect everyone, because it’s the right thing to do. Orym is a rabbit. He’s always been a rabbit. That day in Zephrah, it could have easily been Orym who died instead of Will and Derrig – “unfortunate but necessary sacrifices”, as Ludinus viewed the attack. It’s unfortunate they had to die, but it was for the greater good, according to Ludinus. It’s unfortunate that a rabbit has to die, but it will feed a family of foxes, or stoats, or even a hungry human, so it’s acceptable, right?

Orym is a rabbit. He is giving himself to a greater cause that could very easily kill him – he already willingly signed his life away to Nana Morri. Because that’s what rabbits do. They die to feed others.

And the theme of being disposable is present across the entire group, not just in Orym – Bell’s Hells has been called a “party of NPCs” before. Aside from FCG’s death, I’d say Laudna perhaps fits this theme the best: she was literally murdered and hung from a tree simply because she looked similar to Vex, acting as a warning to adventurers she had never met before. But FCG’s death was – rightfully – viewed as a terrible tragedy by the group. Laudna’s decision to remove Delilah, finally freeing herself from her abuser and emphasising she is more, and deserves to be more, than just some disposable puppet – this was rightfully viewed as a very good thing! But Orym seems to be embracing this identity of self-sacrifice instead, rather than this mindset being properly challenged or acknowledged as a bad thing. After all, there’s no time. There’s too much at stake. Keyleth, Bell’s Hells, all the memories of those who have died in this fight, all the people who might die if Predathos is released and kickstarts a second Calamity – they’re all relying on him, right? A rabbit feeding so many animals with his sacrifice. And it’s not malicious compared to the way that, say, Delilah killing Laudna was an incredibly evil, fucked up and unnecessary thing to do. If Orym died to save everyone else, well, at least everyone else would be saved, right? Saving lives is good, isn't it? How could he complain?

Because rabbits are prey animals, and Orym is a rabbit too. Destined to die so that another animal may feed.

Except, that’s not true. Rabbits are more than just prey. They’re highly social, and thrive best living with others. They’re playful, they enjoy running around and kicking their legs just to show their enjoyment. They’re inquisitive and mischievous, even being associated with tricksters in some folklore and stories. They’re also associated with innocence, playfulness, spring, youth – all manner of things, depending on the story or culture. And they’re not helpless, either, even if they might be thought of as such. They can bite and scratch and draw blood quite easily if they want to! In fact, freezing up isn’t their only response when being attacked by a predator, they are known to fight back if cornered. They can sprint quickly, they have excellent hearing and senses of smell, they know how to evade predators.

Rabbits are prey, and they are also survivors. They have their own social dynamics, their own habits and dislikes and preferences. They are more than just a wolf’s meal. And Orym is more than a soldier, too. He’s more than a “necessary sacrifice”, he’s more than just a shield and sword. He deserves more than to die for a cause. He deserves a happy ending, just like everyone else. I hope he remembers that.

Orym is a rabbit. And the message isn’t that he shouldn’t be a rabbit. It’s that rabbits are worthy of surviving, too.

[alavestineneas]

and if you are there, why do i feel alone in this room?

pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader summary: The woman—a siren, some kind of sea beast lurking in deep, salted waters—sits near him with the ottoman under her feet that still seemed to deny her the comfort of rest, her eyes glinting with mischief when she notices his stare. Taunts, even, forge obliviousness to the spells she casts. Strange, otherworldly—redundant. Everything about her, down to the light gown and a headdress that showed little of her face, Feyd-Rautha was not used to seeing. warnings: mentions of death, violence, implied/referenced child abuse, religious symbolism, mentions of sa (!), blood and other parts of body, very non-healthy relationships chapter 1 - chapter 2 !this work is part 2 to the i can feel the soil falling over my head; no people are here, just the void in my chest! word count: 7,3k

author's notes: hi beautiful people! today, I have finally finished this chapter! be aware that this piece of literature is explicit and touches on some very heavy themes, including sa and child abuse. Please be mindful of it! As always, your opinions, suggestions, and critiques are welcome in the comments. Love you, and have a tasty read!

There are a lot of books stored in her memory, locked in the neurocytes safely. They are tucked into the cortex with love and tenderness that YN otherwise taught herself to suppress as a sign of her weaker self. But papers were non-living, so she felt like it was less dangerous for her to show warmth towards them; after all, if the objects can not acknowledge your love, does it really count as real? She read everything, mostly in an attempt to prepare herself for something she did not know the face of; she read to build the shield around herself, in desperate hope to be able to help at least her future self. YN read even now, although her foolish childhood desires were long gone, just to get a glimpse of the girl she was before the monsters escaped the pages.

The book she re-read the most was nothing special, nothing suiting the image she moulded herself into—a giant, relatively old encyclopaedia of animals inhabiting the furthest corners of Known Imperium. The letters inside, although faded a little, were left almost untouched by eyes—maybe it was what drew her in in the first place—to cherish something seen as unneeded. YN learned the small paragraphs almost by heart; she liked the idea of someone taking enough time to observe something as small as a roden to know its habits. She liked the idea of it happening to her one day. As it always is, it did not.

She chose her favourite animal without that much thought. Although even the notion of having something beloved was foolish, YN was made to choose; she and her sisters played the game of forest most often. The game was simple: pretend to be a creature you are not, forgetting the countless rules they had to follow. Pretending they have claws and teeth; pretending they can protect themselves not through intrigues and hidden motives but through open, bold force. Irulan was always a Katanga Lioness; she liked it because of the proximity to their house's symbol. YN did not; the grey pages of her beloved book described them as "observed to also scavenge on carrion of animals that were killed by other predators or died from natural causes''. What king of the animals steals the work of others simply to feed themselves? She did not tell Irulan that, of course—why would she?

YN chose a mountain lion for herself. Sure, she may have made a mistake thinking it was just another type of lion, but the game went too far to change anything, so she stuck with that. She even grew to love it—the drawing of the mountain lion on her character sheet, the way it prowled through the forest in her mind's eye. It had many names and many homes. Adaptive. Captivating.

She does not know why it came into her mind suddenly—maybe it was the dim light of the closed arena. The air circulated here freely, cooling through the complex systems of vents, even though it seemed to be deprived of any life—just a mechanical circle of the same molecules moving around her seated figure and returning to the hidden openings again and again. YN looked straight ahead; the two men were still sparring.

From her bench, they looked like one—two bodies moved so swiftly that one was unable to differentiate where the lines of their limbs ended. YN squinted her eyes; she was alone in the seating area, and still, she dared not move closer. The taller, thinner figure possessed skin so white it looked almost translucent underneath the cold light—YN wondered if she would be able to see the structures in his body through his clothed stomach. He moved well, almost too well for her not to press her lower row of teeth to the top one, hiding the tongue in a cave of pearl bones—she had hoped he was worse with his bare hands. YN had counted four hundred and five seconds before he made a mistake in his steps; it was a lot more than her own results, but for a man, he was good.

Feyd-Rautha had style; she had to give him that. He fought like a serpent would: calculated, precise. His fists knew the most effective targets, and his legs knew how to escape the blows of his opponent. If YN was to guess, he relied on muscle memory less than a usual fighter would, preferring to dwell in the moment instead. It made for a good show, sure, but it was not practical. She smiled to herself; of course, the na-Baron could not know what the real battle was like. How unfortunate for him—how delightful for her. YN still can't believe he let her watch his training every morning—was he really that stupid not to realise her motive? Was he too confident to consider having weaknesses?

Regardless, she saw what she needed to do - for three hours every day, she set unmovingly on the third bench in a small fighting ground, imprinting his every move in her mind. There are so many moves you can use and so many tricks you can do before she learns them all. YN did not care for the cold gaze thrown in her direction when Feyd-Rautha collapsed on the ground, taking a moment to rest before lurching onto his opponent again. She can wait.

Mountain lions are stealthy predators.

-

The days she spent here changed into months, their slow steps morphing into each other until time became a blur, a concept she did not grasp. Feyd-Rautha was a hard one to warm, but before she would mould him into something she wanted, YN needed to heat his DNA to a certain magnitude; otherwise, he would simply break. She would've gladly accepted this turn of fate too, but right now, keeping na-Baron alive is far more convenient for the Bene Gessarit. For her.

A concubine. A slap in the face: it seemed like life was determined to dissolve the small bits of her dignity in its endless pool of secrets. She was not a wife to Harkonnen na-Baron; no, she was to be his whore. If she was not too tired, she would've felt a pang of fear on her rising with oxygen lungs; a concubine's position is even lower here compared to one of a lawful wife's. YN remembers the words of her teacher as she prepared her for the union: Harkonnen concubines are killed after their first night in a position; if one is lucky enough to escape the fate by being with a child, she bears him until it's time for the baby to be born. One of the greatest honours for a Harkonnen is to take the life of his mother as soon as he enters the world.

She was to join na-Baron for breakfast today—a proposal YN waited long to receive, but part of her wishes she never did. It was worded like an invitation; YN knows it was not. Harkonnens rarely spoke when they did not give orders—a creature of habit, she supposed. So, she did what she had to: follow the slave to the chambers designated for the meal. The hem of her dress shone with a colour so foreign to the fort around her; YN needed to make herself stand out. Men are much like children, she learned—the more colourful the toy, the more likely they will want to play with it.

The walls were heavy here. They didn't bend in the shapes she was used to, preferring to stand tall. They didn't have to hide their strength underneath a complicated facade—quite the opposite. They paraded it, wearing it like the honour it is. Staying unremorsefully unbending. Maybe it's the air or a different measure of gravity; maybe it's her habit of soaking up the surroundings and letting them poison her insides, growing rotten in between the folds of her stomach tissue, but her legs are metal, stone-cold, pulling YN deeper and deeper into the floor. She tries so hard to ignore the three creatures in the corner.

They are hairless, much like the man in front of her, and dressed in matching black. YN would've mistaken them for Harkonnen royalty if it were not for the iron collars on their necks and the glowing black eyes that seemed to follow her every move. She would've been happy to have some company and not be forced into solitude with na-Baron if it were not for a still convulsing body on the floor. A body she did not recognise, but it could've easily been her own.

The creatures seemed to enjoy the involuntary moves of the soon-to-be corpse; they closed their eyes in delight and bared the sharp, black-coloured teeth in sheer pleasure as they lurched into the white flesh. They ripped it apart with only their hands, not bothering to use the prepared knives for more than a big incision from head to stomach. The sounds of chewing and gnawing filled the room, echoing off the walls and sending electric impulses down her body. YN was used to the metallic smell and the bright colour of arterial blood, but this was not a simple death. It was a show, and she was the long-awaited watcher.

Feyd-Rautha seemed unbothered by the sight near him. His hands, covered in thick streaks of blood, were deep to his elbows in the body. He dissected the corpse with precision, his eyes focused and his grip steady. He looked calm, even peaceful. Na-Baron was in good humour today. ''I must say, your arrival has graced us with much more than just the dowery; nothing could've made this union more auspicious—such a rare bird you are, daughter of our generous Emperor. A princess, yet treated no better than a common slave.''

Here it was: the thing she was thinking about all the way to this strange, garbage planet in the dress that pokes bleeding holes in her abdomen with each glass she downs. From his lips, it sounds even more bitter; even savages found the way the Emperor sold one of his daughters so easily strange. "Both of our houses have traditions far beyond our understanding," YN shrugs, scaring her thoughts away like annoying flies. Here, in a room so far from the comfort of her home, they moved too fast, bringing nausea to her throat.

She is here to secure the bloodline of House Harkonnen, to ensure the balance needed in the Imperium. YN does not notice how suddenly her gaze darkens or how tightly the hands that rested on the chair are now holding the pleated velvet of her ruby-red gown. Oh, the baby. The tiny creature inside her womb, the future head for the Baron's crown to be placed upon. The yet unconcieved child she could not feel love for. She was given no other choice but to risk its life before even giving it a chance to obtain its gift.

''Then you will find my present to be quite fitting.''

YN watches in silence as na-Baron reaches inside the rib cage of the corpse. He reaps out an organ with one swift motion, almost like plucking a harmful sprout from the garden. The organ is broun and rosewood, a weird mixture of shades that make it harder for her to focus on anything but the thing in his large hand. The gift he meant to give was a human heart.

She feels his walk long before she sees a figure departing from its place at the table; she guesses the end point of his manoeuvres too easily. It's almost funny—a cruel, senseless joke; how obvious the slight tremor in her hands is; how heavy her eyes become at the sight of Harkonnen black. The body positions itself near; if she squints, she can hear the hot breathing somewhere between her shoulder blades. His hand snakes around her neck quickly, positioning the organ right in front of her mouth. YN can detect the smell hitting her nostrils before she closes the receptors in them. She wants to scream, but the notes die in her throat. Who would she scream for? She hears the creatures hiss and whisper—the heart is a good part, from what she can make out. It did not need to be wasted on people like her.

''Will you not accept it?'' Feyd-Rautha's words are mocking, but his dark blue eyes stay virgin to the laughter. They drill small spots on her neck from behind with such force that YN can almost feel the burnt smell of her sweat-covered skin.

She takes a breath. Her own heart shrinks, its vessels beating with intensity twice as much as needed. Still alive, she notes absently. Still breathing. The feeling is natural and easy; the forced calmness in her body tingles the muscles, braiding her nerves into a pattern similar to the netting. Then, she opens her mouth.

"If I shall lick the blood of your hands, Feyd-Rautha, dare to make it your own."

That's it.

Maybe the Emperor was right to spare her none of the Sardaukars and a quarter of her dresses. She did not need more; she was not expected to survive long enough to use half of her clothes. YN chucked under her breath. Dead over diet preferences—how profound.

After a moment, the pale face behind her also twists, allowing the blackened teeth to escape the grip of thin lips. Like this, na-Baron looks less human and more like the evil he was said to be. He throws the heart to the creatures—they catch it greedily—and places a bloodied hand on her shoulder, the droplets of crimson going unnoticed on the brightly coloured cloth. ''Very well, then. Let us eat.''

YN nods. She looks around almost instinctively; nothing could make her eat a thing after the sight she just witnessed, but she refuses the na-Baron once; she is not about to do it again. The food is a lot, but her plate is almost empty: only a small amount of salad is here, sadly staring into the hunger in her eyes and a now featherless creature in an unnatural pose, suggesting its non-poetical death. The bird is small, almost delicate; its wings are pitifully glued to the body. YN does not want to let her mind draw the comparison, and does not allow her brain to admit a direct analogy; she dissects the bird with a dull knife and puts a piece in her dry mouth. The creature tastes good—almost too good to be expected in this brightly lit hall.

Most often deer is the mountain lion’s staple diet. However, they can survive preying on small animals as well.

-

The night covers Giedi Prime rather quickly; it never lingers, politely waiting for its masters to finish their daily affairs; it hits like a coward, from behind, trapping those not careful enough to hide before its arrival. The harsh, toxic waves of lazy winds hit the walls of the halls coldly lighted with a few sphears; they look like deep forest clearings, forming a system of endless options, ultimately leading to one, inevitable, end. His work chambers aren't big; he does not visit them often for them to be. The solitary metal desk before him is filled with letters, drafts of laws, and official documents, all waiting for his approval. It exhausts Feyd-Rautha to no end, the sheer stupidity of most of the advisers here; almost half of the documents were riddled with errors and inconsistencies. The forever present in his head dull migraine grows stronger when he opens the shortest letter; he almost busts his skull open when the pain heavies.

He ponders too much—the type of thoughts you can feel running on your tongue but never escaping. He is not used to being in the mist; all of his life is so painfully contrasted that no doubt of its nature can survive the sharp edge of his mind. There are things he can escape—forget, even—but some linger in his ribcage too long for them to vanish. Soon, they grow into his lungs with small, unbreakable threads, becoming him. He used to try to get them away from his heart, as if it held some value. Now, he is smarter, older, and more indifferent, he lets them pierce yet another piece of human flesh with no sorrow.

Of course, he remembered her face. The same face that haunted his sleep ever since she dared to appear before his eyes. Feyd-Rautha, naturally, found her little frolic that day. He spent an entire evening studying her work, analysing every move she could've made with her blade to achieve such outcomes. Sure, some things he would've done differently, but the sheer brutality of an animal he would not have guessed the girl possessed charmed him. Feyd-Rautha was a proud man, but he, too, held a love for beautiful things. For that, he hadn't told the Baron of the sight he discovered in the reading room. For that, he is now willing to pretend to believe her eyes when the fear fleshes in them.

Feyd-Rautha curses; she sickens. Like a bone stuck somewhere down his throat, not letting him live without a pang of mocking. She lurks, and whispers—Feyd-Rautha wants to smash her pretty head against the wall just to reveal the secrets she hides from him so he can finally understand the hold she retains. He is no stranger to the desire to own, or devour, but the fear in the back wall of his stomach is an alien in his body. He tries to hide it—to paint over it with anger or violence—but it remains a constant presence, gnawing at him from within. It's no use; the woman is a shark, designed to sense the fright. Maybe that's what brought him in in the first place—the steel eyes so similar to his own in a narrow hall all those years before. Maybe he was so used to the danger that he craved it subconsciously, looking for it to make him feel like himself again. A reoccurring childhood nightmare he can't escape; he doesn't want to escape.

Feyd-Rautha finds the chair to put his weight on and waits until the tingling, spinning sensation spreads from his temples down his neck, finding its way into his bloodstream and passing his organs one by one, until none are left uncorrupted. Of course, he expects it. The woman slipped into his brain and now chews her way into it like a parasite downs the rotten body. He knows he should be terrified, but instead, he feels a strange sense of relief. Feyd-Rautha can hear the whispers of his own mind fighting to remain the only owners of the secrets and desires buried within. He feels his eyelids heavy; a second later, the whites of his eyes are staring at the ceiling, the blue eye lenses dissolving in light.

Water. The first thing he feels is ice-cold water dripping onto his face, filling his lungs, and sending a shock through his arms. This body does not feel like his; it's too small, too narrow. His eyes are trying to adjust as fast as they can, jumping from one blurred spot to another until finally catching a glimpse of the surroundings. His brain does not have time to process the picture; his nose is filled with fluid again, and his open mouth is gasping for air but only taking in more liquid. He tries waving his hands around, but the stronger grip is firm on his nape, pulling him further down into the depths. The hand yanked him out just as he was about to fall into darkness again, the sound of water changing to loud screeching.

''How dare you hit me, devil child? Let the water wash away your dirt. Repent; beg for forgiveness for all of your rotten nature.''

The voice is unknown to him; it is harsh and filled with fury. The woman's face is twisted in anger; splashes of water on it match his. He can't tell if they are from his antics or tears. The woman's grip tightens, her nails digging into his skin. The black clothes on her figure make her status known - a Bene Gessarit witch. Feyd-Rautha tries to lurch forward and hit her back, but her strength is overwhelming. He feels panic coursing through his veins instead of oxygen—a sensation he did not think he could experience anymore. He wants to bark a response to show her that he is not afraid, but his voice catches in his throat.

Feyd-Rautha has no time to wonder what the woman wants; she brings his face to the bathtub again, and he opens his mouth involuntarily, frantically begging not to do it anymore. He says everything she wants to hear; he cries out and promises to wash his sins away. The voice does not sound like his at all. He is desperate to end this nightmare now, but some force holds him here. The woman is not satisfied; her ears are deaf to his pleas.

His face ends up on the water surface a moment later, his nose hitting the wall of the bathtub as the woman holds him down. He feels his body go limp with utter horror; this time, the shouting woman won't stop. Her voice grows quieter, replaced by the sound of small waves hitting the brim and spilling; from right to left, the water turns red, and his tongue tastes the iron he knows from sliding blades into his mouth.

''Echidna, what the fuck are you doing? Let her go; she is going to choke!''

''Get that spawn to me, for I will not let her ruin my life anymore! I must finish what I have started!''

Feyd-Rautha's head is filled with oxygen once again; his lungs take a desperate breath in, sending too much air to his blood system. He falls on his back, the world spinning. He does not care for the weeping woman in black or the chaos unfolding around him. His only thought is that everything is finally done and that the white floors are a magnificent place for drops of liquid to fall from his normally bald head's waterfall of hair.

He wakes up suddenly, the sensation long gone. His steps are heavy again; the body he inhibits no longer feels like a cage. The voices have left him for now, and the only thing on his forehead left is small drops of sweat and a pathetic, frightened, beating heart. The cold breeze from the darkened sands surrounding the city wishes to prove otherwise—it heavies and plants its spikes into his reddened cheeks. The horizon gleams at him, almost taunting; not a single star is to be seen under the imposing clouds. He will kill her; maybe he will even enjoy it. Feyd-Rautha can handle a lot, but not the shame of being seen. Not the guilt of being caught wanting.

There are only three ways to hunt a mountain lion: tracking, waiting in ambush, and with dogs.

-

The gliding motions of heavy fabrics across the wooden floors created a strange pattern of a song now centuries old. Here, in a room so long that the wind travelled through the hollows, her careful steps seemed to almost fall silent. Nothing was there for the preying eyes to see. YN closes her eyes; with that, even for a moment, the world stays still. She knows where the hollow staircase will lead her; she feels it in her stomach with every step she takes. YN knows nothing about the future, but the past lives deep in her memories, haunting her every move. She knows she shouldn't have done it. Travelling through one's mind is a sin she can't escape; she will pay the price for it in her blood, but the Bene Gesarit did not send her here to survive, so it's of no use to be afraid now. It makes no difference for the dead if you weep at their grave or not.

The burning sphere of light in the hall stops spinning; the doors open without any noise, although if the pounding eardrums had not stunned her hearing, she could've noticed the faint thuds. YN waits; there are no flashes of her happiest memories or the faces of her loved ones in her drained mind. No, in what seems to be her last moments, she thinks of what she could've been if the world had not given her a sword to turn into.

Feyd-Rautha appears in the hall; his steps aren't rushed, and his expression is stone-cold. She eyes him shamelessly: nothing. She sees nothing; she senses it deep in her crying bones. He drags her by the hair like a mother would with her misbehaving child; roughly, he pulls her towards the exit, his grip tightening with each step until the door behind them closes and her knees meet the cold ground with a nasty thud. The bruises will stain them soon, not that it matters now.

''You should've known better than to cross me,'' he hisses, his voice gruff. It's cold, chilling—the way his lips part to reveal a sinister smile. ''Now, you can think yourself vanished, little witch.''

YN does not answer—what fool would beg the deaf? The blade against her chin is sharp; she knows how attentive he is when it comes to inflicting pain. It pokes right into the Omehyoid muscle, a dull pain shooting through her body. If she has got to die, it may as well be from his skilled arms. How beautiful he is in the twisted pleasure he finds in her suffering. Unearthly, almost too perfect to be made of simple flesh and bone. Something was unnerving, unforgettable in the net of veins under his pearly skin; it was as if he were a work of art, meticulously crafted to bring physical pain and optical pleasure in equal measure. A silver glint under the defined cheekbones, a redness of lips filled with blood vessels. For a second, YN wonders what it would be like to bite into it, like an apple that lay too long under the golden sun; would the blood slip as generously as the sweet nectar? Handsome as poison, as a black sun on his forsaken planet, as death.

''Go on. Kill me, then; let me escape you once and for all.''

Under the deep sea of his eyes, something moved; his eyes dipped into her, part by part. Like the slow, deliberate dance of a predator stalking its prey, his gaze lingered on her, calculating and intense. YN lowered her head to push the knife a little deeper into the flesh. A strange thought lingered in her brain; she found herself on her knees in front of him, almost willingly. She has worshipped God all her life; who, if not her, can recognise his creation? The Devil. Lucifer. Satan. The man with horns so big they once touched the skies; a corrupt angel, fallen from grace so long ago he couldn't remember way back if he tried. They have warned her about him, but is it her fault that God has disowned her earlier than she could? Did it really matter to her, before whom to kneel, as long as she felt a sense of power and control in her submission?

All that mattered now was that he wanted to hurt her. He wanted her.

She sees the recognition flicker on his face. Caught. The blade slides quickly across her exposed neck, the blood sprouting out in a weak, painfully quick stream. Feyd-Rautha kissed her, biting her bottom lip till the stream of boldly coloured blood trickled down his chin. He did so like an animal would, baring his teeth and dragging them across the pulsating vein on her neck. YN's laughing cry echoes in the empty room; she is forced to admit that he felt good.

Never approach a mountain lion; most mountain lions prefer to avoid confrontations, so never approach them and make them feel cornered.

-

The woman—a siren, some kind of sea beast lurking in deep, salted waters—sits near him with the ottoman under her feet that still seemed to deny her the comfort of rest, her eyes glinting with mischief when she notices his stare. Taunts, even, forge obliviousness to the spells she casts. Strange, otherworldly—redundant. Everything about her, down to the light gown and a headdress that showed little of her face, Feyd-Rautha was not used to seeing. The beautiful substance of her hair caught the light from the sun like a mirage in the desert, reflecting in his eyes with painful hits. The jewels, too, have found their way onto her clothes, but they were hidden beneath the layers of fabric. They shined brightly, impertinently, framing her figure in a glow that seemed to come from within.

To his surprise, the skills woman possessed spread out to politics as well, with her witch training proving useful in court. Feyd-Rautha did not miss how his advisors grew more uneasy when she entered the room, her careful eyes scanning their faces for even a hint of betrayal or deceit. Like a proud discoverer, he ached to share his new-found wonder with the blind audience, but something in him protested in a mare thought of showing the precious jewel of his eye to the cluster of unworthy. So, Feyd-Rautha did the only thing he knew how— all of his secret observations were done from afar, masterfully hidden behind the facade of casual indifference.

As he drags yet another blade across the surface of the whetstone, he thinks about her delicate hands on his neck, her ringed fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. Harkonnen men rarely wed; they just take what they capture—men and women—and turn them into slaves. Some, if particularly sweet, are reserved for fucking. There are no special songs for that; there isn't a specific word in their native tongue for wife, either. It doesn't matter; YN is nothing of the sort. A concubine, a possession, a tool for pleasure and procreation—the Harkonnen way was simple.

''Are you done eye-fucking me now, or do you need more time with your blade?'' she sneers, her voice mocking. Only she could get away with such bold defiance in his presence, but she does not seem to care for the unusualness of it.

YN motions for him to come closer, her eyes studying the way his legs move. Feyd-Rautha has no control over them; the steps make themselves. She plays the game very well; the chase fuels something primal within him. Thirst. Hunger. It was the Harkonnen training talking to him—the wild, ancient sensation taking over his insides and imprisoning his mind in a cage of helpless desire. It spread its tentacles down to his fingertips, nesting in his abdomen. He positions himself in front of her, his body betraying him as he leans in closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Feyd-Rautha's hands repeat the ritual almost instinctively, rolling the hem of her deep purple dress up to her waist.

''Stop for a second,'' she whispers against his ear, her breath warm and inviting. ''Can I give you a piece of advice?''

Feyd-Rautha can feel the anger creeping into his body; he does not like to be refused. ''No,'' he grumbles, turning her around forcefully. "I don't need your advice," he snaps, his grip tightening on her arm.

YN does not seem to care for it. ''Don't do it. It will only lead to trouble.''

''What?'' He stops, his eyes narrowing as he absorbs the woman's words. The doubts that had lingered in the back of his mind suddenly grew louder, echoing through his mind. He releases her arm, his expression stoic. ''You are insane, woman. What are you talking about?''

''You know what I mean.''

The unease boils in his stomach. How could she know? He was careful not to slip anything; she wasn't able to cast her spells anymore either. But her knowing gaze tells him otherwise. ''You can not know the future,'' he pronounces.

''I don't need to know the future to see the truth, Feyd-Rautha. Your judgement is clouded by rage, and your mind is not as sharp as it usually is. You are not as invincible as you think you are.''

She is bluffing, he thinks. He hopes she is. Feyd-Rautha almost wished there was no cloth covering her face, nothing to hide her expressions as she lay beneath him. He catches her flamed eyes and the way they circle his face in one swift motion before settling on the ceiling above. It unnerves him, but he refuses to show it. She is no master here; she is simply a servant. That is not what power looks like, if he ever recognised one, and Feyd-Rautha knew power.

''Get out, now.''

Nothing was portrayed on her face as she curtseyed; nothing was there when she turned and walked to her rooms, leaving nothing but the ghost of the human body's warmth.

Mountain lions are more at home in brushy areas than in open prairies.

-

And then, he disappeared. Like the sound of the morning birds falling silent in the cacophony of voices of the city on her home planet, there was no trace of na-Baron in the entire Harkonnen fortress. YN thought she was slowly but surely going mad; no one but her noticed the usual place by the window empty, and no one but her seemed to care enough to know where he went. She caught strange looks from a few, and frankly, she thought they were right. She looked like a mad woman, her hair quickly plated and her dress hurriedly laced, her eyes darting around the room in search of any sign of Feyd-Rautha's massive figure. Noon was dragged into the evening, and then night, for three, long days until she heard the long-awaited news: na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen had tried to usurp his uncle and had failed.

She has told him so. A fucking brainless ram, with stubbornness bigger than his cock—why did he think he could outsmart the Baron? He will pay for his dumbness with his blood, perhaps even his limb—the thought brought nausea to YN's throat. She was lucky the Baron did not consider her important enough to be knowledgeable of such schemes; she lowered her head in the desert, hiding from the sand storms of Harkonnen politics; she waited for two long weeks until the announcement was made; Feyd-Rautha was forgiven. The celebration in honour of this news is to be today; she is to attend it. Not like his concubine, YN supposed, but more like the princess she still was.

Now, she took her time. YN chose a gown she wanted long enough to make even a tireless slave yawn, savouring each moment before their meeting. She was a victor now, in their small game of cat and mouse. He was a cat, but the mouse could still outwit him with grace and style. YN smiled at the wondering attendants; she looked good, and she was going to meet him.

The walk from her chambers to the Grand Hall wasn't too long; she would've walked a thousand more stairs if it was needed. The doors opened without a sound, revealing nothing but a mere celebration of yet another year under the reign of Harkonnens. The lines of slaves changed one another, the uneven circles of people dancing appearing and fleeing to the cheerful tone of strings. She was set somewhere between two Harkonnen lords she had no chance of knowing; she felt a sense of unease creeping up her spine as she tried to maintain a polite smile. Their gazes didn't look right; something sinister lurked inside them—hiding a secret she had no chance of knowing.

One of them turned to her, a chilling smile spreading across his face. "How are you finding the evening, lady YN? Or, what should I call you?,'' he mastered a fake confusion. ''Perhaps, darling? Concubine has a cheap wing to it; quite unworthy of a face so lovely as yours, don't you think?"

Dirt. The thing that crawled under her skin at his words was like dirt, making her feel unclean and exposed. She forced a laugh, trying to brush off his comments, the crown of her hair moving with muscles underneath her skin. "I am a princess, my Lord. Address me as such."

It would be enough every other noon, but today. The man's face twists, as if he just remembered something; he turns, the wine in his goblet splashing on the tablecloth. ''I think na-Baron wouldn't be too angry if I stole a princess for the night," he sneered, his eyes darkening with malice.

''Does it matter to you either way?''

YN watches as the smirk, so similar to Feyd-Rautha's, appears on the men's lips, although it doesn't feel the same. She fights back disgust as the man nods, biting into a hefty chunk of prey. His eyes, once focused on her, drifted away. YN chose to follow them; the string of fat streaming down the man's mouth onto the silver tablecloth made her nauseous. She looked from one unfamiliar face to another, until the cold feeling in her abdomen crept its way onto her chest.

There he was. His figure is unusually crouching as he sits on the podium reserved for members of the dynasty. The dark blue eyes are red now; the thin blood vessels in them are torn and emptied. His body seemed to suck the light out of the hall inside, casting a shadow over the room. There are no scars on his smooth face, but the sunken cheeks and hollow eyes spoke of a suffering that went beyond physical wounds. YN almost wished she saw him dead; whatever this was, it was surely much worse. He raised his eyes slowly to meet hers; something flickered in them before turning back to their empty state. Feyd-Rautha parts his dry lips to say something to her—she can't understand a word he draws with his breath.

From the place nearby, the Baron's voice booms, his low, almost whisper-like vowels mending into one. His face, covered with layers of skin and dead cells, twists into what was meant to be a welcoming smile—the corners of his paper-thin lips dance, lowering themselves only to jump higher, and his eyes travel from one corner to another, unable to be still even for a moment. He speaks of things YN knows nothing about court intrigue, power struggles, and alliances that shape the fate of their world, heavy with hidden meanings and unspoken threats. She does not listen until he gestures towards her, a scent of spice and decomposing flesh lingering.

''Sergeant Voss has served me well, and his loyalty at the right time is not to be forgotten. Here, I bestow upon him the highest honour of all; what was once mine, is now his. Do not let go of her if she screams, Sergeant; the girl is a fine one.''

No. YN almost does not recognise the hand as her own as the man drags her to the bed that appeared out of nowhere, freezing with horror as the people around her continue to watch in silence, their eyes devoid of any emotion or empathy. The tradition, she notes, is the one she learned so much about bedding in front of the entire court as a symbol of unity. She choked on her own tears as the man smiled at her pleas for help; they seemed to make him even more pleased.

YN looks, frantically, to the place she saw Feyd-Rautha sitting just a moment before. He would help; surely, he would not let them do it to her—his servant, his concubine, his. But the seat is empty. The scream echoing through the hall does not register as hers right away; he has sold her. For his own freedom, for a chance to be free from the consequences of his own stupid actions. Surely, the Harkonnens could not get rid of her openly—it would mean war—but she was not immune to the man who now owned her. His hands travelled her body with such audacity that YN wanted to cut them off—to cut her chest just so she could not feel the fingers digging into her skin. A sole reminder she was a woman first and a human second.

Mountain lions are solitary hunters.

The man undressed himself quickly; all of the soldiers were trained to do so. She should run; she should fight back, but the pair of unmoving hands pinning her wrists down was a stark reminder of her helplessness. The man lowers himself closer, his hot breath against her neck making her shudder in fear. She can feel him against her skirts; she can feel the weight of his body pressing down on her. The adrenaline is pumping through her veins; she will survive. Whatever it fucking takes, even if her body is bruised and broken, she will survive.

They prefer to ambush their prey from behind by swiftly and cleanly breaking the neck.

She bites—her teeth launch towards his cheek, feeling the warm flesh give way beneath her. She sinks them deeper, making holes big enough to draw blood. It's hot, and sickening on her tongue, but she does not have time for these thoughts; her next blow is in his stomach, with his knee jammed into his gut. She can feel his body convulse in pain, giving her a chance to throw him on the bed, his broad back facing her.

If they haven’t broken the neck, they will suffocate the animal.

There is nothing around that could serve as a knife; her captors made sure of that, and the sheets are too thin to wrap around his neck. She looks around the room, desperate for something to use, but the space around her is empty. YN curses as the man regains his composure and begins to struggle against her hold. Her elbow meets his nose with a sickening crunch, causing blood to spurt out. She takes a breath in; her hand wraps around his neck, forming a tight hold as she goes into the headlock. She chokes him, so desperately trying to live. And the man trashes against her grip, his white face turning a deep shade of purple before finally going limp in her arms.

Shame.

A thing that followed her after every life she took is now absent. Maybe the Giedi Prime's cruelty did have its effect on her; YN feels nothing but a sense of emptiness as she stands over the lifeless body.

''Do you have any more men to gift me to, Baron Vladimir? The night is still young.''

Her voice has changed. It holds a certain hiss now, a rasp that wasn't present before; it has matured and bloomed into half an octave deeper tone. It bites through the noise easily, cutting sharply.

The Baron laughs. His eyes gleam with amusement as he gestures towards the door. "Plenty more where that came from, my dear, but it's enough for today. Here,'' he throws something in her, a smirk ghosting on his lips. ''You've earned it.''

YN catches it and inspects the object in her hand. A small, golden broche catches the light, glinting in the dimly lit room. A head of the Bighorn ram stares back at her, the symbol of House Harkonnen. The taste of victory mingled with the metallic tang, leaving a bittersweet sensation in her mouth. Joy courses her veins—she isn't afraid. Finally, she is not afraid. Finally, she can look at her blood-stained hands without humiliation. Is it her fault she was born a better knife than a person?

Bighorn sheep are not a primary food source in most areas. However, when a lion does kill a sheep, they typically will continue to do so over and over again, until the herd is depleted.

tag list:

@oh-you-mean-me @juliskopf @moonsoulk @mamawiggers1980 @ashy-kit

[beebee3832]

Sweet Fae

- Bear shifter!Price x Fairy! (fem) reader (whose wings don’t work)

- Tags: Predator/prey dynamic, fear of death, just a bit scary, building into fluff and smut (in future parts), size difference, so so so much cringe lol so be warned

- Constructive criticism is always welcome!Thanks for reading! 💗

- (Just a note, fairies in my story are just short, not super super tiny like in Tinkerbell or something.)

Sitting on the treetops was one of your favorite things these days. Instead of doing the grueling work down below, you could lie down and smell the sweet breeze of the freshly bloomed flowers.

The new season of spring was finally here so of course there was lots of work to do. Helping the animals adjust after so many weeks in hibernation was crucial. Spreading pollen to newly bloomed flowers before the bees started buzzing again brought back the forest’s vibrance after months of barren trees and harsh weather. Planting seeds was also an important task to regrow the forest’s previous lushness. Spring was the busiest time for fairies and all you wanted was for it to be over.

For the past week, you were tasked to get the pollinators up and running again. Pollinating needs the work of everyone, not just the fairies. Bees were obviously at the top of the list, so you decided to start with them, but little did you know that there would be so many to wake up.

For most of the day, that’s all you were doing, so this little break on the treetops was much needed. But you couldn’t stay up there for much longer because the darkness of night was going to soon cover the whole sky. You could already see the purple hues of dusk in the distance.

The forest became darker at night, and not just in color. Creatures that you’ve been taught to fear since childhood roam the earth and hunt anything that moves. You remember your grandmother telling you about them when you were only a little fae.

“They smell fear, little one,” she said, her voice low.

You sat on the floor where you were previously drawing on the dirt with a stick, but now you looked up at her with wide eyes as she told you tales of dangerous beings. “Who do?”

“They are not like us fairies. They are creatures who stalk the forest only after it grows dark. They make themselves look different than what they are just to fool others into their trap. They tear up the earth with their claws,” she emphasized this by raising her hands up to look like claws, “and they rip hearts open with their teeth!”

Your small wings started to tremble as she told you more about these beings. Beings that didn’t hesitate to fool fairies into thinking they were kind animals just to stuff them into their jaws as a midnight snack. Slowly, tears started to form in your eyes and you wailed, only for your grandmother to pull you to her lap and whisper comfort into your ear.

With a shake of your head, you snapped back to reality. It was not the time to be scaring yourself. Night was drawing closer and you needed to go back home soon.

“One more beehive,” you muttered to yourself. Surely you could do that before dark.

You stood up on the wobbly branch and stretched, stiff from laying down for so long. Then you braced yourself to climb down the tree, landing softly on the forest floor. You knew exactly where you were going. Left. That was where the next beehive was. Because it was late, you would just tell them that their duties should start tomorrow.

After a little while, you spotted it. You heard the soft buzzing in the distance and you almost started walking to it until you heard a low huff. You scanned your surroundings to see where it came from but all you saw was the forest growing ever darker. It must’ve been your own breath you heard, although you know you were just saying that to ward off your worries.

You padded to the hive and gave it a soft knock, knowing that if you knocked too hard, you’d surely get stung. Bees were always on high alert, even when they were still groggy from winter.

You cleared your throat. “Uh, hello. Can you hear me?” You saw a bee come out and land on your nose. You took that as a yes and smiled. “Well I won’t bother you too long. I came here to tell–” Suddenly you were interrupted by a harsh buzz that made your nose itch. The bee zipped back into its hive just as quick as it came out of it, leaving you utterly confused.

You scratch your nose a little. “Hello? Did I say something wrong?” No response. With a little huff, you decided to just leave it. It was getting late anyways. You turned around, ready to go back home when you suddenly gasped in shock.

In front you was the biggest bear you’d ever seen. Sure, all bears are big compared to fairies, but this was different. This one was well...huge. Layers and layers of deep brown fur only made it seem bigger. Its jet black eyes peered at you with an intensity that you’d never seen on another animal before. It felt like it was staring through your entire being.

Slowly, it stalked over to you and you felt yourself freeze. Not out of fear, no. More so out of...caution. The forest is your home. You’ve seen plenty of bears before. In fact, you’ve helped several of them prepare for hibernation so this sight wasn’t anything new. But something in your body kept you frozen. Maybe the stories your grandmother told you were still embedded into your subconscious.

It grew closer and closer until it stood right in front of you, making you see how much bigger it really was. You held your breath as it shoved its nose into your neck, almost knocking you over. The beast stopped at your pulse point and opened its jaws to reveal a set of razor sharp teeth. Fear bloomed in your chest, making you act on instinct. You immediately smacked the bear’s nose with a yelp, making it immediately back away.

A beat of silence ensued. A staredown between you and the bear. It’s pointed stare at your wide-eyed gaze. Before you could find out what would happen next, you bolted in the opposite direction.

The wind rushing through your hair brought you back to reality, making you realize just how late it had gotten. The full moon was out. No hues of twilight painted the sky anymore. Only the bleak darkness of night. You panicked even more. You had to go home. It was too dangerous to be out now.

You heard snarling and the rapid sound of paws chasing you down. Alarms blared in your mind. Your breaths grew heavy and fast.

Your thoughts screamed. Go!

Out of nowhere, a set of sharp claws shoved you to the ground. It was too dark to see but you knew that they had come from your right. Your back hit the forest floor with a loud thud, making your body ache all over. You tried squinting your eyes in order to see but to no avail.

You heard the sound of a loud growl from above you. You felt the beast’s drool drip down on your face.

All your fighting and thrashing proved worthless against its strength. This is it, you thought. Hopeless and trapped, you relaxed your body and allowed what was to come.

You immediately jumped up when you felt the beast get shoved off of you. The sounds of teeth gnashing and roars filled the air. Someone—or something—was assaulting the beast that once held you trapped on the ground. You took this moment to swiftly make your way out of there.

You knew this wouldn’t work but you tried it anyway. You were desperate. As you ran, you used the rest of your energy to get your wings to work. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.

You’ve seen other fairies do it your whole life. Why was it so hard for you? This could be your fastest route out of these woods and back home—where it was safe. You strained yourself harder than you ever have. Please please please this has to work.

You felt your wings quiver, hope suddenly rushing through you. C’mon just a little more!

Abruptly, your feet caught onto the brush of the forest floor, making you fall face first on the ground. You groaned in pain, this being your second time falling in the span of a couple long minutes. If only you could see. You tried to get up, but your feet were tangled in whatever they got caught in.

You were foolish to think that one more beehive was a good idea. You were foolish to think that you’d be safe in the woods so close to night. Foolish to think that you could get away. Most of all, you were foolish to even entertain the idea that you could fly out of here. You could already feel the tears fall down your cheeks. Your soft sobs echoed throughout the forest. Foolish, foolish, foolish.

Your body stiffened when you finally heard silence. The beasts weren’t fighting anymore which means one of them must have won. It would surely eat you now that there was no other competition. Your last bet was to just play dead. So you let your body go limp, waiting—praying—for the beasts of the forest to just walk past.

You almost jumped at the sound of twigs snapping in front of you. A familiar huff came from the bear, who must’ve won. Your heart beat fast in your chest, threatening to burst out of your ribcage. It nudged you with its paw and turned you over on your back. Your body tensed.

“Please,” you barely whispered. “Please don’t hurt me.” Your voice wavered through your hiccups and tears.

Unexpectedly, it lifted you up onto its back and started moving to who knows where.

Your consciousness grew dark.

. . .

The soft glow of a fire was the first thing you saw.

The cavern you were in looked like a home. There were books and a table. A fireplace and doors that you could only assume led to other rooms. There was also a subtle smell of something cooking but you didn’t know what. You were laying on a soft surface. You lifted yourself onto your elbows and saw that you were on a bed. A big one. Way bigger than the ones you would see in your town. Where were you?

You heard something come into the space you were in and you immediately pretend to be asleep—or dead. You listened closely as you heard what seemed to be bones cracking and pained grunts and then...heavy, relieved breaths. It sounded like it came from a man. A large man.

You didn’t dare open your eyes as you felt heavy footsteps stop at the edge of the bed you’ve been put in. You held your breath and forced yourself to stay limp when every bone in your body was screaming at you to run. You couldn’t run away before and you certainly couldn’t run away now.

You heard him kneel down and felt the back of his hand softly rest on your forehead for a moment, which made you suck in a harsh breath. In instinct, you sat up and slapped his hand away from you, not without a quiet gasp.

The first thing you noticed about him was his size. He was massive. A burly man with strong arms that were probably the size of your head. The next thing you noticed was his face. He had deep blue eyes and lots of facial hair. Actually, he had hair everywhere. His chest was broad and he had a healthy amount of strong fat on him. The only thing he was wearing were some shorts so you could see most of him. He was nothing like any man you knew.

You make eye contact with him once again, scared of what he was going to do to you. Who was this man? What did he want with you? Would he punish you for hitting him? Your heart quickened and you started to breathe heavier, which didn’t go unnoticed.

His eyebrows furrowed with a sympathetic expression. “It’s okay sweetheart. I’m not here to hurt you.” His kind words and baritone voice did nothing to soothe you. Actually, you were even more confused. Who is this man?

Summoning up your courage, you managed to squeak out a full sentence, despite your fear. “I want to go home.” You looked up, searching his face for some sort of approval. Any sign that he will let you go. When you found none, you felt your heart sink.

“Listen sweethea-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Listen. You’re injured and it's not safe out there. At least not now.”

You looked over your body and found deep gashes and purple bruises on the places where you fell and where the beast had knocked you down. You glanced behind you and saw that your wings had numerous cuts, probably from the branches you had to run through. He was right. You were definitely injured.

“Here,” he said as he stood up, making him even bigger in your eyes. “I made some food for you if you wanna eat it. How about you come with me and I can get you fed and fixed up.” The steadiness in his voice made it impossible to not believe him so you tried to stand up and follow his lead. What else could you do in this state?

He noticed you wince because of your various injuries so he offered a hand to help, which you silently ignored. You didn’t even give him a second glance. He can’t think you’re that needy. You can’t be seen as weak, especially not in front of a man whose intentions were still a mystery to you.

He led you to a table next to a fireplace that had a cauldron of soup cooking. You sat down on a large chair and watched him give you a bowl of his newly made meal. You weren’t planning on eating it.

He left and came back again with some ointments and bandages to heal your wounds.

“Alright I’m going to put this on you and it might hurt, okay?” You nodded and sat still—that was until you felt a searing hot pain where he put your ointment. You yelped and smacked his hand away, causing your chair to fall backwards. He caught it just in time, but not without a small smile aimed towards you.

“You’re very violent, you know that?” He playfully asked while looking back down at your wounds. You weren't feeling playful.

“Just stop it,” you said, your voice louder than you wanted it to be. His rich, blue eyes immediately snapped up to you, confused. You took a deep breath. “Just...stop. Who are you?” The question you’ve been wondering most finally came out of your mouth and you silently waited for an answer.

He looked almost nervous. “Ah, yes. My name is John. John Price.” That wasn’t a good enough answer. You suddenly stood to your feet, ignoring the soreness of your wounds.

“No, I mean, who are you? How did you find me? Wh-what are you?” You stuttered on the last question, afraid of the answer. He had no wings. He was massive and hairy and everything a fairy was not. He was silent for a moment, seemingly thinking about what he should say. The suspense was killing you.

“What am I?” He asked, incredulous, as if you should already know. “I’m just like you sweetheart.”

You shake your head. “No. No you’re not. You’re big and-and just-ugh you’re not like me! You’re not a fae like me! What are you?!” You’re shaking now. You’ve only been with fae all your life. You’ve never seen anything else. You never even knew there was anything but fae, maybe besides stories of scary creatures that roam the woods outside your town.

He slowly rose to his feet, unintentionally making you cower beneath him. “Love, I need you to calm down, alright?”

You shook your head. “No! No, I don’t know you! I-I have to go.” You frantically looked around the room to see which door might lead you out of here. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a soft glow of moonlight coming from the crack of the door on your left. Your escape. You looked back at the man who was slowly creeping up to you and you immediately fled to your escape.

Harshly, you twisted the doorknob and pulled as hard as you could. You were right; this door was your escape. The sudden rush of pain from your captor’s hand gripping your arm gave you the adrenaline you needed to become strong enough to get out of his grip. He tripped forward onto the ground and cried out,

“Wait, wait come ba–”

You paused when you heard crackling from behind. Then you glanced behind you.

You saw a horrific image of bones breaking and being put back together, of strangled yelling and of clumps of fur sprouting from skin. In just a few short seconds, there was no man anymore. In front of you was a bear. Not just any bear, but the one that almost killed you.

You screamed so loud that your throat went raw. You couldn’t move. Your body went rigid as the beast sauntered your way with a deep growl coming from its throat. That man wasn’t trying to help you. He was just playing with his food.

Just as he came within an arm’s length of you, you noticed something warm on your back. You felt that warmth rise up and hit the trees in front of you, casting them in the familiar hue of sunrise. Once the warm glow touched the beast’s face, it instantly backed away, seemingly in pain. Relief flooded in your chest.

Just as you were about to run away, you heard the familiar bone cracking and for some stupid reason, you turned around again. No beast was in front of you now. Only the same man who tried to bandage you up earlier.

He was on all fours and coughing profusely. When he looked up at you, you saw a pained look on his face. His once happy eyes were now remorseful and ashamed. When you walked closer, you saw tears form in them.

“Please,” he said, which made you jump a little. “I didn’t mean to, sweetheart. I didn’t wanna hurt you. I just wanted to protect you.”

Bullshit, you thought. The man who was just about to kill you is now begging for your forgiveness? What a joke. You should turn away now. This pathetic creature was only crying because he couldn’t eat his dinner. Turn away, your mind said.

Every bone in your body wanted to leave him in this place, but your heart hesitated.

It wasn’t often that you saw a man cry like that. You weren’t even sure if he was a man. No, this was a beast. A beast who tried to kill you, your thoughts cried. However, despite that, you felt some twisted sympathy for him. Your head was telling you that he was dangerous, but your heart knew better. For some reason, you decided to trust your heart.

You slowly walked over to stand over him. He looked at you with wet and pleading eyes. Your chest ached.

“Stand up.”

He rose immediately, unintentionally reminding you of his towering figure.

Feeling your heart race, you raise your hands to his face, hesitating for just a second before cupping his tear stained cheeks. He didn’t even flinch, in fact, he let out a soft sigh as he slightly leaned into your touch. This close, you could smell his musky scent. He smelled of forests and something smoky. For some reason, it calmed you just a bit.

You two stayed in this same position for quite some time, your thumbs soothingly swiping his leftover tears to his hairy cheeks. He didn’t say a word. He just let you study him. He let you study his deep blue eyes, his dark brows, his nose, his slightly rough facial hair, everything.

A rustle in bushes close to you snapped you out of your trance. You quickly turned your head but a large hand cupped your face, turning your head back to the beast.

He smiled a warm smile, one that made you almost melt. “Just a squirrel, sweetheart,” he murmured. Such a soft tone coming from a beast surprised you.

“Right,” you muttered, your gaze focusing back onto him. “I, uh,” you coughed a bit, “I suppose I should leave now.” His eyes saddened a bit, making your heart clench for some reason.

“I suppose you should,” he said as he almost reluctantly backed away from you.

You turned around, ready to leave when he said something you didn’t quite hear. “What was that?”

You heard him clear his throat. “Will you come back?” Will you? Should you?

You walked away without answering, but somehow you knew this wasn’t the final time you would see him.

[bonefall]

Is there a list of all the jobs the cats can have?

I gotta make a whole thingie on this but here's a short list of the new job expansions, as a quick summary before I get around to it;

All heads of the patrol expansions report to the deputy. Patrol expansions also have apprentice chores that need to be carried out-- like dishwashing for Kitchen Patrol.

Official Jobs: Tasks that a cat can volunteer for or be assigned to for the day.

Kitchen Patrol Tasked with preparing meals. This includes processing prey from carcass to meat, making all the cats feel as full as possible on the food they have on-paw, and general preservation. NEW Position: Head of Kitchen. Oversees these operations, ensures fair ration distribution, decides the communal meal for the day, works directly with the other two heads to provide building materials (leather, bones) and discuss hunting quarries.

Hunting Patrol Very similar to canon; tasked with catching prey or patrolling the border. NEW Position: Head of Hunting. Tasked with managing prey populations and overseeing the types of animals that are being brought home. Has the freedom to levy "limits" on species and organize big game hunts. Is also expected to keep tabs on the territories and populations of other predators, especially vixens and how many cubs they're having in a season.

Construction Patrol An expansion of canon's unofficial builder roles. Tasked not only with building itself, but weatherproofing based on the season, comfort of the dens, and collecting materials. NEW Position: Head of Construction. Oversees projects and manages safety. Works intimately with the Head of Kitchen especially, responsible for taking the skinned pelts and processing them into proper leather, and cleaning spare long bones (especially of rabbits) for use as beams and supports. In ThunderClan, they are also responsible for maintaining the spears.

Educator A cat in charge of giving all kittens all their basic skills and a simple introduction to history, before their mentor and the elders eventually take over. Teaches kits how to understand glyphs, the names of certain animals, the leaders of their Clan, etc.

Unofficial Jobs: Tasks that a cat chooses to do, sometimes also asking permission to do it professionally or permanently.

Chaperone The "perma-queen" position. Helps out in the nursery and attends the needs of the queens. Doesn't typically do a lot with the kittens themselves, between their Mi, the Educator, any Bas or family they have, and the elders. Raising kittens is communal, so the Chaperone focuses more on the parents themselves. (Chaperones are generally rare, as they are redundant if you write the clan as a proper social unit, imo...)

Trader A cat who brings things to the border or to gatherings in order to swap them for other goods. Becoming more popular as peace between the Clans grows. Not a "position" but more of a hobby, or a talent. The Clans are currently running on bartering, between borders.

Crafting Weaving, tanning, toymaking, instrument creation, etc. Not so much a singular position rather than a blanket of various hobbies Clan cats can do in their off-time, now. While Construction Patrol often has to do these as chores, they can be done just for fun or personal gain.

In addition, the Leaders, Deputies, and Clerics have significant expansions as well.

Leaders are now given 9 lives to USE, and are expected to function as "the ideal warrior." They are at the head of dangerous missions, patrols, and are brave responders to natural disasters. They are blessed by StarClan itself, carrying a piece of a star to display their holy rank.

The Deputy is now expected to be the one who handles the "busywork" in the Clan so the leader is free to lead by example. The final decision always goes to the leader, but the deputy has MASSIVE influence over the day-to-day functions of the Clan now.

And the Cleric is the healer and spiritual authority of the entire Clan, only outdone by the Leader itself. Only a Cleric is allowed to interpret signs and omens, with Clan Culture now having the concepts of blasphemy, dark magic, and demonic influence.

[chaoticgoodthief]

STP Voices Personality Swap

Inspired completely by @remaking-machine's awesome AU! I decided to put my own twist on the idea and see how it turns out! (ramble under the cut so that my mutuals don't have to watch me go insane, as per usual)

Self-imposed rules:

Personalities swaps must be based off of this line (or at least my interpretation of it) to force me to think more about how that would even work:

Princesses must be kept as close to canon as possible. I would give a good reason but honestly, it's just more fun that way

Ok, without further ado, let's get started!

Hunted (swapped with Opportunist): Will be on whatever side keeps him alive. Will be completely on board with defeating the Beast since he knows he will die if he doesn't fight her. However, he drops all pretences the moment they aren't in danger of dying. All the other voices actually like him up until he drops the helpful act, which at that point they all immediately hate him for deceiving them. For the most part, acts similar to his canon counterpart but a lot shadier in a way that nobody else seems to notice.

Opportunist (swapped with Hunted): Treats the Witch like an ambush predator and thus always is correct about her next move. False bravado comes off like a prey animal puffing itself up to be more intimidating. Genuinely looking out for your survival, but generally disliked by the other voices for his flighty nature. Does not trust Thorn, but empathetic towards her pain. Generally acts very different from his canon counterpart, but his facade is a nearly eerie replica.

Skeptic (Swapped with Smitten): An seriously unhealthy amount of trust in the Prisoner and only the Prisoner. If she told you to stab yourself he would agree with her because he's that sure that she has a plan. Completely distraught in the Drowned Grey route because he knew she had a plan and it's all your fault for not believing in her like he did. It's actually creepy how easily Skeptic falls down the exact same path as canon Smitten after a personality swap. I love it.

Smitten (Swapped with Skeptic): Serious trust issues after being stabbed to death by the princess and locked away by the Narrator. Rather than you being the one to ask questions in the start of Chapter II, he will ask them before you get the chance. Since he will force you to grab the knife, there is a much higher chance of getting the Burned Grey route. Can be calmed down if you manage to get him to put his trust in the Damsel, but manoeuvring away from Deconstructed Damsel is also a lot harder due to his insistence to get answers. Somehow even more sceptical than canon Skeptic.

Stubborn (Swapped with Broken): Most downtrodden of the lot because of just how exhausted he is from the seemingly endless fighting. Even getting with him to the cabin is a pain due to his refusal to Do This. All the other voices think he's annoying and whiny, with only Contrarian vaguely getting along with him. Interrupts the Narrator's "You're here to -", with "Die. And die. And die again. And if we're lucky... die quickly." He's just as bad as canon Broken and it's so funny yet so sad at the same time.

Broken (Swapped with Stubborn): He's not physically strong in the slightest and failed to kill the princess once already, but this time he's going to win. Comes off as a yappy chihuahua trying to fight a lion. Again. However, he's actually on friendly terms with a good few of the other voices due to this. The Tower is vaguely amused by him up until the moment that he actually wins. And then? Then's she's pissed. Would be great friends with canon Stubborn, but only after proving himself in a fight.

Paranoid (Swapped with Cold): Turned off his emotions to focus on getting everyone out alive (think MoC Cold). Clipped, clinical tone for everything, including the Survival Mantra. Thinks the others don't appreciate him enough for the sacrifices he made in order to keep their body working. He is right. Completely numb to death in the MoC route to the point he doesn't even bother to use the Survival Mantra anymore, not that it matters at that point anyway. Very similar to canon Cold, but more apathetic than bored.

Cold (Swapped with Paranoid): Extremely superstitious, believing the princess to have cursed him with her death, which is only amplified when she returns as a ghost. Urges you not to touch the mirror because you might break it, begins talking about finding an exorcist if you let the Spectre possess you, refers to the Narrator as a malevolent spirit (I mean.... he isn't wrong), the whole shebang. I'm not going to lie, this one is honestly one of the funniest to me. Do not put in the same room as canon Paranoid. It will not end well for either of them.

Cheated (Swapped with Contrarian): Over the course of interacting with the Razor, he quickly starts just messing around after realising nothing he does matters. He treats the situation less and less seriously, to the point that he's making actively dumb decisions just to see how everyone reacts. Throw the blade of the window? Sure, why not? She'd kill us even if we had it! Throw her out of the window she's she's a bunch of blades now? Sure! Why not? She'll just come back, right?

Contrarian (Swapped with Cheated): Tried to get out and now look what's happened. Actively bitter about being trapped into a set path and determined to make it as much of a hell for everyone else as it is for him because of it. Curses like a sailor and is generally just So Done With This. He's not trapped with you. You're trapped with him and he will make everyone knows that. Will still try to make it up to the Stranger, the Hero and the player for his actions later on but does not hesitate to berate you for leaving him behind in the Stranger's cabin. Honestly, he's probably the closest to canon. Spicy Contrarian, if you will (get your mind out of the gutter not like that)

Hero remains the same, but his opinions about all the others are... very different, to say the least.

Phew, that was a lot of fun! Maybe I'll come back with a part two for SwapAU meets canon!

[readychilledwine]

Predator Prey

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

If you are into scratching, biting, grunting, and growling, you may have a Primal Play kink.

Primal play, also known as Predator/prey, is a dynamic between a sub and dom that typically involves the dom hunting down the sub before intercourse. A lot of people mix this with pet/animal play, but they are different. Pet/animal play involves at least one party dehumanizing themselves and taking the role of an animal. Primal play does not involve that.

Primal play finds its roots before we began civilized, and before sex began being seen as a sin as pushed by religion and church. Primal play is a way to revert back to that animalistic instinct of survival by letting us play with our basic needs, aka: breeding, food, and self-protection.

Predator prey is known for being a rougher form of play as well, the sex is a little more demanding, its rough, and it typically can cause the dom to leave a little more satisfied than the sub, especially when following traditional instinct and roles (sorry ladies.) It is an important for this play type to really focus on prediscussed consent and safe word communication.

Primal play also typically involves a struggle between the parties for dominance, something this fic does skip over because while I see Eris enjoying the hunt, I can't see him enjoying his mate struggling below him, even if it is consensual, due to his family history. I apologize. I skipped that aspect, but you all may have noticed the absolute Crackship I have another predator prey set up for. That couples going to go down swinging no matter how I write that dynamic.

💕Peep the Valentines Day List here💕

As always, NSFW below the cut

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Warnings - chasing, rough smut no traditional foreplay, p in v, slight hints of dirty talk, biting.

You shouldn't have been in the woods this late. You knew it was dangerous and that the trees themselves were awake and alerting any waiting predators that an unarmed female was walking alone through them.

After hours of dealing with your father in law, you had just wanted a few moments alone and made the choice to walk to the cabin you shared with Eris instead of winnowing.

That had been a mistake. Despite being in a seasonal court, day and night still shifted with the rest of the world, and golden rays of light gave in to star patterned darkness much too fast for comfort. You huddled your hood tighter, ignoring the bite of the autumn chill, and kept walking.

“Well, well, well,” the snap of a branch made you jump, heart beating faster as you froze. “What do we have here? A pretty mouse all by herself?”

You spun quickly, eyes wide as your husband approached with 3 hounds flanking him and growling. “Eris-” he shot you a look, silencing you.

“What you're going to do, little mouse, is run. You are going to turn and run and hope I don't catch you.” He took a step toward you, one you mirrored by stepping back. “Because if I catch you, I fuck you, and that would be mercy compared to what lurks in these woods just begging to get their teeth into you.”

He took another step, a bigger one causing you to stare straight at his chest until you looked up. He kissed you gently, the only gentle thing you knew you would get tonight before sliding one of his hounds training toys into the pocket of your cloak. “Run.”

You knew from the moment you accepted the bond, Eris was a bit of a sadist. But you also knew the first time that curtain dropped and your husband chained you to a wall, spanking you until your legs gave out, that you were a masochist. His mistake was calling you a mouse, though. You knew Eris had no understanding of how intelligent mice were. Mice were natural students, learning and adapting to their environment and tricks.

And you? You had learned.

You ran finding a large tree to abandon the cloak on before winnowing about 15 feet away, taking the training toy with you. You watched as Orion, Astrid, and Nova sat at the tree, looking up at Eris, then back to the cloak. Orion whined loudly, nudging the fabric as Eris growled.

Those hounds would never hurt you. Those hounds were chasing you for fun. And you had spoiled it. You cracked a branch on purpose, smiling and laughing as Nova perked back up, then began running towards where you had taken off from.

“Cheap tricks won't help you, mouse!” The dark laughter in his voice has your core tightening. You ran faster, heading near the direction of the cabin enough that he wouldn't think anything of it.

You were actually aiming for the lake nearby, though. Wanting him to fuck you under the full moon and all of her stars. Wanting to feel him pressing you into the dirt.

Eris caught your right as you reached it, a soft laugh as he did, and he took you rolling into the dirt and grass. Settling on top of you, Eris smirked. “This isn't home, mouse.”

You tossed the toy, listening as the hound Cheerfully began playing. Submission was setting in, creeping through your bones like an old ache. “No, sir.”

His warm hand came, holding your throat. “If you wanted to be fucked like an animal, y/n, you just had to ask.” You moaned at the words, at him seeing through you. He got up, forcing you on to your stomach, and began ripping the dress you were wearing. He placed a hand back on your neck, holding you down and leaning into you, whispering in your ear. “Do animals get prepared, mouse? Remind me.”

“No, sir,” it came out as more of a whimper than a sentence, a moan leaving your throat soon after. Eris wad grinding himself against you, cock straining heavily in his pants.

Eris was inside of you mere moments later, heavy cock stretching you open with a delicious burn. He was growling above you, rutting into you over and over while you wiggled and whimpered below him.

Nights like this, nights where sex was a mesh of teeth, of bruises, of thrusts so deep you could feel every inch of him lighting you on fire, normally meant Eris had a long day, a day where he felt no control, no joy. A day where he felt belittled.

Sex like this wasn't about you, and if you came, it was a reward. Sex like this was about Eris. You knew when he calmed down after this, when he would eventually carry you to the cabin, he'd take his time making love to you there until you were no more than a soaked mess below him, body pliant and spent from countless orgasms.

You whimpered as the thrusts grew harder, pushing you into the grass as your nails dug into the soft earth. Eris's growls were becoming louder, an occasional groan thrown in as he took you wildly with no regard for your body.

You were dripping for him, panting his name between wails of pleasure and soft cries of need. You loved sex like this, loved when he held you down, when he allowed you to make him work for it. To make him hunt you down.

You felt the first twitch of his cock, clenching around him in response and smiled into the ground. “All mine,” he grunted above you. “You are all mine, do you hear me?” His mouth came to your neck, licking and sucking your pulse point.

“Gonna fuck you until you don't even know your own name.” It was a promise, a zap engraving itself on your skin as he held your hand. He chuckled darkly again, your mind melting into those soft kisses contrasting against each sharp movement inside of you.

His breathing was becoming as labored as your own, his groans becoming more and more frenzied and desperate. “Cum inside me, Eris. Mark me as yours,” his grip on your hip became impossibly tight.

One more thrust had your walls tightening around him.

Another had you screaming his name as teeth sunk into your pulse point, bruising and marking that tender flesh.

The last had you babbling, moaning, and whining as you were violently thrown from the edge, squeezing and clenching around him over, over, and over again until he was spilling into you, filling you as he groaned and lapped away the blood he drew.

You both calmed, you still wiggling below him as a few last sloppy rolls of his hips worked to drive you into over stimulation.

Eris peppered soft kisses along your jawline, up to your temple, into your hair. “You okay?”

“Again.” He smiled into you, leaning to kiss you deeply.

“When we get home, after you eat and bathe, I will make all your sick dreams come true, mouse. I promise."

General Taglist -

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium

Valentines Day Taglist -

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb

@justasillylittlegoofyguy @avajustreads

@littlestw01f @azriels-shadowsinger @acourtofladydeath

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: hagfish

After taking last week off for mental exhaustion I have returned! And what better way to mark my return than with a shitload (or perhaps a highway load) of slime? Today I'm returning to the agnathan trenches to dredge up one of two living groups of jawless fish. I covered lampreys before, so now it's hagfish time. These ooey gooey critters are both fascinating and kinda gross. Now get ready, because it's time for slime.

(Image: a hagfish in profile. It is a long, brown, eel-like animal with a fin encircling the tail and a small head with no visible eyes or mouth. End ID)

Hagfish, also known as slime eels, are approximately 76 members of the class Myxini. In addition to the living species, hagfish have been preserved in the fossil record, letting us track their evolution through history. Hagfish are one of two living groups of agnathans, commonly known as jawless fish, with the other being the lampreys. As the name suggests, jawless fish are vertebrates without hinged jaws. Way back when bones were the cool new thing in town, agnathans represented the entirety of the vertebrates and were extremely diverse, but the evolution of jawed fish resulted in them getting largely outcompeted, leading to all lineages but the hagfish and lampreys going extinct. Genetic studies indicate that hagfish and lampreys are more closely related to each other than either group is to any other vertebrate. Because they are the only jawless fish left, hagfish and lampreys are of interest to scientists studying the evolution of vertebrates.

(Image: a hagfish coiled up, under orange light. The head is visible, featuring small sensory barbels and a large hole that resembles a mouth but is actually the nostril. End ID)

Hagfish are eel-shaped animals that range in length from a few centimeters to over a meter in the largest species, Eptatretus goliath. They have no scales, flattened tails that bear the only fin, and simple, eyeless heads. The heads bear sensory barbels, a single nostril, and the mouth. The mouth has two pairs of rasping plates that normally sit within the mouth, but can be everted to face outwards. The plates can grab food and pull it into the mouth to be swallowed. Hagfish do not have true eyes, but they do have eyespots that can sense light and dark. Interestingly, their fossil ancestors did appear to have fully-developed eyes that reduced in complexity until the present state. Likewise, ancestral hagfish had a true vertebral column made of cartilage, but modern hagfish only have remnants of their ancestor's vertebrae. Hagfish skin is very loosely connected to the internal body, only attached along the spine and slime glands. This makes the skin very flexible and harder for predators to grab. A third of the blood is contained between the skin and body and is pumped around with the heart as well as a few additional pumps that act as auxiliary hearts. Hagfish have some of the lowest blood pressure of any vertebrate and the highest blood volume to body mass ration of any chordate. Hagfish are also the only vertebrates that do not osmoregulate, meaning they cannot regulate the amount of salt in their bodies. Changes in salinity, especially moving to a lower salinity environment, are very dangerous to hagfish. Hagfish skeletons barely qualify, consisting of only a skull, notochord, and fin rays, all made of cartilage. The gills are internal. Water enters through the mouth and is forced over 5-16 internal gill pouches, then ejected through pores in the side of the body.

(Image: a closeup of a hagfish head with the rasping plates everted. The plates are mounted on pink tissue around the pharynx. there are two plates on either side of the pharyx which look like rows of small, sharp teeth. End ID)

That's all well and good, but you're here because of the slime. The hagfish's main defense is to create lots and lots of slippery slime. The slime helps them slip away from predators. If a fish tries to eat a hagfish, the slime can clog up its gills, forcing the fish to either release the hagfish or suffocate. A common factoid is that a single hagfish can turn a 5-gallon bucket of water into slime in seconds. To produce the slime, the hagfish releases threads made of special proteins into the water from glands on its skin. These proteins react with seawater to create a matrix of trapped water held together by filaments similar to keratin. The slime matrix can expand 10,000 times its original size in 0.4 seconds of exposure to seawater. The slime is quite durable and resistant to breaking and dissolving in water. After sliming, hagfish have been seen wrapping their bodies into an overhand knot and running themselves through the loop to scrape the slime off of themselves. Its possible that the slime also impairs the hagfish's ability to use it's gills and it needs to do the know to get the slime off and breathe again.

(Image: a person reaching into a holding tank full of hagfish and pulling out an armload of thick, viscous, white slime. End ID)

(Video: a hagfish in the wild demonstrating its knotting behavior. This one is going in the opposite direction usually seen: tail-to-head instead of head-to-tail. End ID)

Hagfish are found in most of the oceans, with range varying based on species. They are benthic animals that rarely swim far above the seafloor. Some species dig burrows to shelter in while others will shelter under rocks and other structures to avoid predators. While lying on the sediment, some hagfish species will coil up while others will lie straight. Hagfish are carnivorous and feed with a combination of hunting and scavenging. A large portion of the hagfish diet consists of polychaete worms and other known prey species include small crustaceans and echinoderms. Some species have been known to hunt burrowing fish, possibly by clogging up the burrows with slime to suffocate the prey. If you've seen a documentary about deep-sea fish you probably know about hagfish scavenging. Using their large nostril and sensitive sense of smell, hagfish can sense carcasses from long distances and are often some of the first scavengers to arrive at a new body. They use their rasping plates to pull bits of meat off of the carcass. A similar behavior to the slime-cleaning knots is seen when scavenging, but in reverse, going from tail to head instead of the other way around. This grants the hagfish additional mechanical advantage, allowing it to rip off larger chunks of food. Hagfish will burrow into larger corpses, possibly to get access to a food source with less competition than the outside of the body. Hagfish act as part of the deep ocean's cleaning crew, consuming corpses before they can decay and release potentially harmful chemicals into the water or act as sources of disease. Unlike any other living chordate, the food a hagfish swallows is encased in a permeable membrane during digestion. Hagfish can also absorbed dissolved nutrients through their skin. Hagfish have a very slow metabolism and ones in captivity have been observed going for up to 7 months between meals.

(Image: several hagfish feeing on the body of a fish. The hagfish have their heads on the fish's body and one hagfish is entering the fish's mouth. End ID)

Hagfish reproduction is still something of an enigma as so many of them live in the deep sea, making it difficult to observe them reproducing. It has been observed that females seem to outnumber males, with the exact ration varying depending on species. In some species, the sex ratio is almost even, while in others, there are 7 females to each male. however, it should be noted that females mature sexually faster than males and it has been suggested that this is responsible for the apparent skewed ratio. Hagfish eggs have tufts at the end that cause them to get stuck to each other like velcro. It has been suggested that eggs are laid in clusters possibly in burrows, beneath rocks, or protected with slime. Some species seem to have a mating season and seasonally migrate. Hagfish have only a single ovary or testicle (the latter of which has been described as unusually small by scientists and bullies in the deep-sea locker room) and they have no specialized reproductive tract. Instead, gametes are released into the main body cavity and must find their way to the anus to leave the body. Hagfish embryology is poorly understood, though it has been reported from studies of Eptatretus stoutii (Pacific hagfish) that the eggs can take up to 11 months to hatch. Hagfish have no larval stage, unlike lampreys and bony fish.

(Image: a group of 9 hagfish eggs in a plastic tub. The eggs are ovoid and dark yellow, with tufts of fibers at each end. End ID)

The conservation status and needs of most hagfish species is hard to discern because of the depths they inhabit. Threats to them include bycatch, as hagfish are often caught during deep-sea dredges. It is alos possible the chemical pollutants may be passed to hagfish through scavenging. There is a commercial fishery for hagfish, which is largest off of the west coast of the Americas. Hagfish are eaten as a delicacy in Korea and less commonly eaten in Japan. Most of the hagfish fishery goes to Korean food markets. Hagfish skin is also values as a durable leather and often marketed as "eel leather" or "yuppie skin". Study of the slime and the highly durable threads that produce it indicates they could be used to create very strong materials, similarly to spider silk. Research is currently being undertaken to find uses for hagfish slime and threads.

Once again, these cards show up in my posts (Image the Weird n' Wild Creatures card for hagfish, featuring an exaggerated drawing on a hagfish. End ID)