#wildcat trail

[orofeaiel]

Seen on the Green Mountain via Wildcat trail: Northern Redbelt - Devil's Urn | Eyelash Cups - Spring Orange Peel Fungus | Dog Sick Slime Mold - Pacific Trillium

[stray-the-therian]

Do you know the dread of being kept in civilization for way too long when you could be running freely in the woods?

It's eating me from the inside.

[tidalskii]

Happy release day for FP2 on consoles!!! Played it for a couple hours on Switch before heading to bed. This is one of my favorite games of all time, so I’m glad more people are able to experience it!!!

🤘💜💚🧡🖤 Rock on!

[starshinerart]

It’s the 4 heroines from Freedom Planet 2!!

I finally finished drawing them all, and now I can post them all together here!!!!

[passinoutpieces]

“the wolf and the wildcat”

a big thank you to @socially-awkward-skeleton for letting me borrow their oc kit cross for this piece <3

[tigerleopardlion]

Domestic Cat x African Wildcat | Douglas J. Long

[reasonsforhope]

"This decade has been one of the most positive for news about tiger conservation of any since conservation science began in earnest, and a highlight must be this mother tiger and her two cubs sighted in Western Thailand, the first such sighting in more than 10 years of close monitoring.

Tigers are stable or increasing across their entire remaining strongholds, including China, Russia, India, Nepal, Bangladesh, Bhutan, and now Thailand—the only Southeast Asian country to see measurable increases in tiger population over the last 12 years.

There may now be as many as 190 tigers in the country, up from 46 logged in a population survey in 2007.

The sight of the mother and her cubs, in the Salak Phra Wildlife Sanctuary, part of the sprawling Western Forest Complex of Thungyai–Huai Kha Khaeng Wildlife Sanctuaries that stretch across 2,400 square miles, is a sign that Thailand’s conservation efforts are really working; not only are tigers breeding outside of core areas, but that must therefore mean there is enough large game, like sambar deer, to feed them.

“This is a big news for us,” said Rattapan Pattanarangsan, the conservation program manager at the Thai chapter of Panthera, a renowned wildcat conservation NGO. “…now we are the source, we can produce tigers from our place. That means our place is safe enough, and has enough prey for the mothers to eat and breed.”

Neighboring Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam haven’t been able to make meaningful progress in restoring their tigers, and if they ever needed a few individual animals, Thailand now has a stable, growing population that is adapted to similar forest conditions.

Pattanarangsan told The Guardian that creative efforts to stop poachers, such as by working together with ranchers to place early warning cameras on forest trails have worked significantly.

Reductions in commercial bamboo harvesting have also reduced human-tiger conflict, and the animals look poised to continue flourishing in the western rainforests of the country."

-via Good News Network, January 8, 2024

[godsandvillains-if]

Gods and Villains is a superhero/horror story set in a dystopian future where Earth is filled to the brim with crime and corruption—a.k.a MCU meets The Boys.

Warning! injury to major characters, gore, body horror, trauma and PTSD, amnesia, death, and sexual content. Rated +18. More specific content warnings will be provided at the start of each chapter.

You take control of a powerful metahuman, an otherwise ordinary human on the outside but who has the meta-gene, a potent mutation deep engraved in their DNA, which gives them superhuman abilities. This next step in human evolution comes with a setback, however, for the curse of madness seems to follow their every step. It lurks in the shadows, patiently waiting for the opportunity to strike—many metahumans fall prey to its alluring promises. 

With a dark and traumatic past filled with untold horrors and inhuman experiments, you are rescued from the clutches of crazy terrorists by a team of heroes that might lend you all the tools you need for redemption or complete self-annihilation. 

As the only metahuman with the ability to wield the powerful Chaos Magic, your very blood holds the answers to unlocking the secrets behind the control of time and space, but it has the drawback of being almost completely volatile. 

Who can you trust to keep you safe other than yourself? Trust no one, and maybe you can get out of this literal hell alive.

Play as male, female, or non-gender specific, along with transgender choices;

Romance one of seven characters, and if your heart is big enough fall in love with two of them. There's three possible poly routes available: Archon and Stardom, Archon and Mars, Paladin and Wildcat;

Customize your appearance, personality and powers;

Struggle against the shackles of madness trying to take hold of your psyche;

Battle a multitude of villains or become one yourself;

Uncover the secrets behind the meta-gene and your abilities;

Help the public fall in love with superheroes or forever destroy that chance;

In total there are seven romance options, each with their own personality, and dark secrets for you to uncover. You can read more about them below:

?

The villain, or anti-hero, whatever you want to call them, Mars is an enigmatic figure; the very concept of life seems to hold no value to them. A trail of bodies follows wherever they go, and on the news, they are regarded as the biggest menace of the century. They will have the unique ability to sway your loyalty. Beware, their sweet words and promises may drip with honey, but they also drip with the blood of their victims.​

Trope: Forbidden love, emotional scars, blood-play

Zev/Zena Hammer

The oldest of the bunch and not a metahuman per se. Hammer acts as the spokesperson for the team, mitigating the often tenuous relationship between humans and the so-called "mutants". As a retired police detective they've learned firsthand how rotten the world can be for the innocent, and they've vowed to protect them at any cost. Their analytical and communication skills will go hand in hand when dealing with various crimes, just as their implants.

Trope: Widow/widower, age gap, don't-call-me-daddy/mommy

Adam/Ada Armstrong

The current leader of the Alliance Team. Headstrong and dauntless, they are regarded as the strongest metahuman in modern times and the most enigmatic of them all, whose past is shrouded in mystery and unknown even to their closest friends. On the outside, they might seem apathetic and unconcerned with human suffering, but their true feelings are hidden beneath layers of deep trauma. Superhuman strength and invulnerability are their greatest assets when fighting villains.

Trope: Nobody thinks it will work, love/hate, fucking-your-boss

Edward/Evelyn Osborne

The former leader of the Alliance Team and Archon's best friend. On the surface, they are the stereotypical showboat: cocky, greedy, and egoistical. Stardom does whatever they can to gain attention, fame, and riches. For them, the best feeling in the world is an adoring fan and a beautiful person fawning over their heroics. The meta-gene gives them a genius-level intellect, which in turn is used to develop several pieces of equipment that are employed by themselves and the team during fights.​

Trope: Billionaire, belated love epiphany, good-people-have-good-sex

Johnny/Johnnie

If Archon's past is shrouded in mystery, Paladin's is drowned in it. For all you know, their name is not even Johnny/Johnnie but an alias of their choosing. They are known to be the silent loner type and are somewhat socially withdrawn from other members of the team, only speaking when called upon to do so. Behind their silver mask, they harbor more than a few inner demons, and together with their superhuman weapon and combat proficiency, they fight for the innocent.​

Trope: Secret identity, oblivious to love, weapon-fetishization

Pedro/Pilar Flores

The youngest of the team, considered by many a lighthearted jokester without any real talent beyond their obvious powers—which set them apart from every human that walks the earth. With their metahuman status so evident for everyone to see, hiding just didn't seem like an option, so they chose the next best alternative. Known to be playful, energetic, and often immature, they are responsible for balancing the team's more serious side, and when someone can take the form of any living being on Earth, the repertoire of pranks is endless.​

Trope: Beauty and the Beast, broken in some way, begging

Doctor Malik/Malika Aziz

The renowned Doctor Aziz, a famed archaeologist and considered to be the most powerful sorcerer, or magic user, in the world. They wear several enchanted artifacts that, in turn, accentuate their already tremendous knowledge of the mystical forces. With an extremely strong moral compass and kind demeanor, they will show themselves to be the best teacher you could ask for, but why do they seem to be everywhere you look?

Trope: Time travel, twin siblings or clones?, teacher-student

LINKS

DEMO ✶ PATREON ✶ KO-FI

[avonne-writes]

Carry You Home

A post-war kitty Gale (cat shifter Gale) drabble written for the "LCAPT fic off" game initiated by @middlingmay. And it’s a gift for @butdaddyilovehim99 💕 Featuring the most Gale-looking cat pic ever. Thanks @swifty-fox for brainstorming with me! (On AO3)

The sticky seed of some unfamiliar weed sticks to the fur on Gale’s legs, but he ignores the uncomfortable tugging sensation and just keeps running. Away, far away, anywhere but here. He’s done with this whole charade. To hell with it all. John can go find some other fool who can stand his goddamn womanizing.

Gale doesn’t care that it's only a facade. Sometimes, he wants to be the one being wooed and not watch John flirt with someone else. He thought... He thought they would go on a date, just the two of them, to the pretty creek in the woods close to town. All the exciting, cheerful sounds of the forest, the clear air, enough space and privacy for Gale to shift back and forth when he wanted. But John had to ruin it by chatting up three women who were on a walk.

They could have let the ladies pass and waited to be alone again, but John just had to do it, didn’t he? Maybe he didn’t want to be alone with Gale at all. He could have been looking for an excuse to cut their date short all along. Instead of laughing and walking with Gale, he charmed those girls until they were drawn to him like moths to the light, and Gale, sour in his disappointment, was left to trail behind until they finally parted ways.

Then, the fight. That terrible fight. It wasn’t too decent of Gale to snap the way he did, but it hurt so much to watch John flash his best smile at the girls, to touch their arms under one excuse or another, the way he should have touched Gale instead. Gale's tired of it. He can’t stand it anymore, to see the affection that's meant to be his given to another while he’s right there.

John didn’t understand - or didn’t want to - so, Gale shifted and ran away. It didn’t take more than five seconds and he was out of John's sight. Being small makes it easier to hide among the bushes. To disappear. He doesn’t matter anyway. He’s no one. Perhaps, he won't ever shift back again. Why bother? He’ll just live the rest of his years as a wildcat, nothing but the forest and the freedom of no expectations. He can live alone and -

"Gale!" John's cry interrupts Gale's thoughts. "Gale, please! Come on, doll, don't do this to me."

Gale stops to crouch low in the underbrush, his heart pounding wildly. His coat is too bright and clean to hide him among all the greens, browns and greys around, but he’s covered by a few thick shrubs and wide leaves where he is. He curls his fluffy tail close to his body and waits. He won't be spotted unless he moves.

"I'm sorry, okay?" John tells the forest plaintively. The canopies above them whoosh in sympathy. "I didn’t mean to hurt you, sweetheart, I didn’t mean it like that."

What you meant doesn't change anything, Gale makes a low, angry sound that John, thankfully, doesn't hear as he jogs down the path in front of Gale's hiding place.

"Shit." John mutters under his breath and runs a hand through his curls. At first, Gale thinks it's because of Gale not folding to his pleading, but a moment later, he sees the fake, wide smile that appears on John's face.

"Egan? That you?" An unfamiliar voice calls, and Gale is alarmed to see a stocky, middle-aged man with a camera approach John from the opposite direction they came from.

"Frank, buddy, the hell are you doin' out here?" John says and clasps the man's outstretched hand in greeting.

Frank launches into a long-winded story about bird watching and photography, and how his wife kicked him out of the house just to get some peace. From his vantage point under the shrubs, low on the cool forest soil, Gale can see John nodding along politely, but his eyes keep darting to the woods, searching for a flash of white that gives Gale away. After a while, Frank notices too.

"Everything okay?" He asks John, concerned.

"Yeah, just looking for my... my cat." John replies awkwardly, putting his hands on his hips the way he always does. Despite his pain and anger, Gale feels a tinge of fondness at the sight.

"You brought your cat out here?" Frank frowns. There’s something like pity in his expression, which makes Gale huff in irritation. Everything their generation does is chalked up to the fucking war, isn’t it?

"He likes going on walks with me." John says, fully turning away. "Gale!"

"Gale? Like your roommate?" Frank asks, his eyebrows trying to meet his receding hairline.

John falters for a moment, embarrassed that he slipped up in his panic to find Gale. "It’s a joke."

"Oh." Frank's face smooths out and he barks a laugh. "Let me help, the two of us will find him faster."

"Oh, I don't want to keep you."

"Nonsense." Frank claps John's shoulder. "My wife says my eyes are so keen I should've been a detective."

John chuckles good-naturedly. "If she says so, Frankie."

Frank walks towards the woods on the opposite side of the path from where Gale’s hiding. "What does your cat look like?"

John sighs. "Cream-white fur, white paws, bushy tail. Piercing blue eyes. As big as a small dog."

Sounds about right, Gale notes with satisfaction. He glares daggers at John. He hopes he can feel it.

Frank whistles. "Must be one mighty creature."

Gale preens. The sad look on John's face is especially vindicating.

"The most beautiful thing I've ever seen." John says quietly as he starts walking along the treeline again. "He's my best friend, you know. My partner. I just wish I knew what's going on in his head. It’s so hard to read him sometimes, and I don't realize I've done something wrong until it’s too late. I just want to make him happy, keep him safe."

An ache swells deep in Gale's chest and rolls through his whole body until the bitterness of his anger fades away to the illusion of salty tears. He can’t cry in this shape but he wants to. He wants it to rain down over his cheeks in big, fat drops, over the scars, for John to wipe and kiss them away, to whisper promises he can’t keep and tell Gale he loves him more than anything. He wants that, still - it hurts, but he wants it. As his impulsiveness vanishes, he realizes that life in the forest wouldn’t suffice. He would always long for Bucky.

"Sounds like a marriage." Frank snorts, shaking a few bushes that sends nearby critters running across the fallen leaves. Gale hears them scurry away from where he is.

"You bet." John laughs ruefully. "Feels like one too."

The cry escapes Gale’s throat before he could clamp down on the feeling that sparks it. It's a quiet, sad little meow but it stands out from the forest's low buzz regardless.

John's head whips up in his direction. "Gale?"

No use hiding anymore. Gale pushes himself up and walks out of the underbrush like some kicked pet, putting his paws on the path hesitantly because he’s not sure yet if he's ready to forgive everything or not. His tail rises in greeting, but when John darts towards him with a beaming, relieved smile on his face, Gale hisses at him.

"I'm sorry!" John raises his hands placatingly, then, in a quieter voice, "I'm sorry, doll."

"Oh my! What a beauty!" Frank exclaims when he spots Gale, his expression one of wonder.

Feeling shy and wary, Gale rushes over to John and weaves himself around his ankles, putting his front paws on John's right boot as he stares the stranger down. He doesn’t know where the hell the guy knows John from, doesn’t care - he just wants him to leave them alone, to give him a chance to shift back and let John give him a proper apology. He’s so focused on keeping his eyes on the man that he forgets he's angry long enough for John to stroke his head. But when the touch reminds him, he growls.

"Don’t be like that." John nudges him, then reaches lower to remove the spikelets stuck in Gale's fur. Irritated beyond belief, Gale bites his fingers, satisfied when John winces, but the hand doesn’t move far - it slides over Gale's back and combs at his fur.

"Hi Gale." Frank crouches down a few feet away, cooing like an idiot. Gale gives him a disdainful look. Honestly, this is the worst thing about being a cat. Interacting with people who want to touch him. "You weren't kidding when you said he was pretty. Never seen such a gorgeous cat in my life. What a unique colour. His fur is immaculate. And look at those eyes! Damn."

"I know." John says, all affectionate. If he thinks that's enough to make up with Gale, he’s sorely mistaken. "Sky blue."

Gale leans against John's leg. A part of him enjoys the praise. People always tend to heap it on him in this shape but never say anything when he's in his human form. His mom, for example, when he still lived in Wyoming. The only exceptions to that are Marge and John, the only people who saw the value in giving him compliments no matter how he stood in front of them. Gale learnt to take appreciation where he got it, even if it was received as a cat. Frank, of course, is unaware that Gale, the cat, and Gale, John's roommate are one and the same, but his words of awe feel good. Gale extends his legs in front of him and stretches, showing off his looks.

"If I were you, I would put a collar on him." Frank says.

"Nah, he's pretty good about comin' home to papa." John replies, a teasing note in his voice. For that, Gale reaches up to drag his clawed paws over the leg of John's trousers until John yelps and pushes him off. Frank laughs.

"Boy, my wife will be so jealous." He shakes his head, smiling. "Can I pet him?"

Gale’s answering noise of warning comes instantly.

"Ah, he doesn’t like strangers, sorry, Frankie." John says for him. Good. At least that much of Gale's feelings he does understand.

Frank waves him off and stands up. "I understand. I would love to photograph him, though. Proof for the missus." He winks.

John chuckles. Gale tilts his head back to glance at him and finds him looking back. Something he sees in Gale's eyes encourages him to reach down and scoop Gale up into his arms. It’s easier to let him than to protest.

"Why not?"

---

About a dozen photos later, John finally tries to say goodbye to Frank, but they're unlucky - the man decides to go the same way John's headed. He must be lonely, Gale figures, but it doesn't make it any less annoying that for lack of a graceful way to get out of the situation, John starts walking with the man while holding Gale in his arms.

It's comfortable, at least. Holding Gale just right in both forms has always been one of John's special talents. This time, Gale's paws dangle over his arm and his head rests in the crook of John's elbow. Since John can’t exactly put him down when he has just caught Gale after he ran away, it’s no use fighting it.

Resigned, Gale relaxes. He’s just a cat now. Loved and cherished openly where everyone can see. Something precious John can hold tight right where his heart beats, and no one bats an eye.

It’s bittersweet, but Gale will take it. The fight seeped out of him somewhere between John calling him his partner and the first apologetic caress over his silky fur. Gale tunes the conversation out and just drifts on the sense of peace and safety he feels in John's arms as the gentle sounds of the forest ripple around them along the path. After a few minutes, he falls asleep.

He doesn’t know how much time passed when he wakes up, but he’s still lying in John's arms, still warm against John's chest, but Frank is, at last, gone. They're almost at the edge of the forest, close to where their truck parks.

"Jesus Christ, finally." John blows out a noisy breath and swipes his thumbs back and forth over Gale’s fur. "Coast's clear if you wanna shift back."

Gale lets his eyes slip closed again and doesn’t move a single other muscle. He can feel John trying to lean over him to see his face better.

"Did you fall asleep?" John rocks him. As a reply, Gale moves his head in a way that looks like he’s saying no. It makes John snort. "Are you still mad at me?"

When no answer comes, John presses his face close to Gale. "Let’s talk about it."

Another shake of the head.

"What, you want me to hold you the rest of the way?"

Gale nods.

John laughs, sweet and rumbling against Gale's body. "All right, doll. I got you. I'll carry you home."

Although he knows he shouldn't, Gale purrs.

[hcdragonwrites]

Cozy (a @jttw-monkeybusiness Drabble )

So I made another one- this one was inspired by this ask (I suck at Hyperlinks I’m so sorry)

It rolled a bit in my brain and kept begging to be fleshed out, so I decided to give it life ! Enjoy!

Snow

Snow fell in white flurries, chasing away the blossoms and birds that had been sitting in the trees just moments before. The storm was in a full frenzy now, peeling petals from overeager trees who had budded too soon, and throwing the birds from the sky. The wind whipped up the cold powder to spray back in the face of the pilgrims as they continued on their journey. They had left the warm subtropical forest only hours ago, where Sophie had rolled her sleeves up to relieve some of the excess heat. Now however, she was shivering.

None of the group, save for Wukong, was truly equipped for the snow and cold. Pigsys ears were turning purple from the temperature as he tried, and failed, to hide from the worst of it behind Sandy. Sandy silently continued on, carving a path for Sophie (who trailed farther behind) to walk through. The snow was already deep, coming to her knees as they continued to follow the tiny path up the mountain. Black rock jutted upward and outward like broken teeth into the white air. Horse and Monk both were struggling ahead, Yulongs sides shivering in the wet as the snow melted on his fur. Tripitaka called Wukong over, asking him to scout ahead to look for a place they could shelter for the duration of this storm. Sophie could see there heads bent together as Master and pupil discussed. Wukong, for once, didn’t reply with a snort or a quick jab at how Trip should be lucky for him to be his disciple. Instead he had somersaulted off, gone in a flash of fur and tiger stripes, into the air.

“Would be nice if I could just somersault out of here.” Sophie muttered.

A freak blizzard had not been on the list of things Sophie was ready for. She had faced shape-changing demons, women that turned to great tigers to devour Tripitaka, mountain gods throwing stones down into their path and the like. Sophie was prepared for any person or creature - or at least- expecting it. The weather however? She was severely underprepared for. She had the travel clothes she had bought with the coin purse she’d been given. They were meant for light rain and mild heat. Not for a snowstorm. Sophies hair was getting wet and the cold was starting to chill her ears from where it melted.

“It’s so cold…” she muttered. She kept following Sandys footpath, thankful for the giant of a river demon and his slow shuffling walk. If he was walking normally he would have left her far behind in the snow.

Her foot hit a rock and slipped, sending her flailing into a rapidly growing snowbank. “F-f-f-freezing! AH!” Snow had gone down her shirt, sending a chill up her spine. Faster than a wildcat she had hopped from the bank, shaking herself.

“Hate snow hate snow hate snow—“ she chanted her mantra as she slapped off the powder, trying to prevent it from melting and wetting her clothes. Wet clothes would only spell disaster. Sophie could recall all the cold born illnesses from one special National Geographic did on Everest and the extreme exposure the hikers faced there: pneumonia, Trench foot, frostbite, hypothermia, flu, Chilblains, bronchitis —

Her foot slipped again as her mind was listing all the things that could happen. Sophie would have been in the snowbank a second time except something caught her by the midriff and hauled her up.

“Stupid women stay on your feet!” Wukong snarled in her ear, setting her down. Sophie nodded, teeth chattering and nose turning red as the cold began to chap it. “Of all the people here I thought at least you had the common sense to be aware of ice!”

From up ahead came the faint cry and heavy fall as Pigsys fell face first in the snow. Sandy had to quickly turn to hid a chuckle as the drenched demon began wilding swinging his rake around in rage.

“S-s-sorry.” She mumbled, shoving her hands beneath her armpits. “Slipped.”

“What’s wrong with your speech? You sound like a squirrel.” Wukong cocked his head, an eyebrow raised. He rolled his eyes when Sophie didn’t banter back irritated she wasn’t snapping back at him. That agitation grew when he felt something like worry begin to itch his pelt. Of the pilgrims, the two mortals were in his charge of care and were the most delicate. While Wukong could fight off monsters and Demons and wicked minded mortals he could not fight a storm. Well- he could if he really wanted to find the celestial body responsible for its creation. But that would take time- and time was not on his side on this.

Tripitaka had put on a brave face when he had asked the Monkey King to find shelter. That didn’t mean Wukong had not noticed how his Masters hands had turned red at the growing cold, how his body shivered and his nose sniffed. Wukong would have teased, poked and prodded at his master- it was his nature to rile and cause mischief. But when he had seen the half awake expression on the mortal man’s face, Wukong had bit his tongue (with great effort) and had instead nodded.

Seeing Sophie in a similar state made the itch beneath his pelt grow worse as fire ants had begun to bite his skin.

“Damn it.” He cursed beneath his breath. He snatched her arm, avoiding her hand, and started dragging her behind him. “Come on just a bit farther you softie. I found a cave up ahead where we can get out of the worst of it. You mortals are ABSOLUTELY worthless when it comes to weather —“

Sophie was only half listening to Wukongs ranting. She allowed herself to be dragged up the mountain pass, trusting the Monkey King to find a better route than her own dimming senses. The cold was like a blanket she wanted to escape out of. Or escape into? She couldn’t remember clearly. If she closed her eyes… she was so tired. The snow looked inviting, comforting. Like the best downy comforter. Like the fluffiest pillow.

Maybe I just … need to lay … down in the comfort. Just close my eyes for a few minutes.

They had been walking for hours before the storm blew in. Her feet hurt, her hands shook and it was so cold. Cold. She just wanted to sleep.

“SOPHIE LOOK AT ME!” Wukong yanked her and she was rattled enough to open her eyes wider in surprise. Sun Wukong was right in her face, leaning so close she could see every line of his facial markings in detail. His breath came from between his teeth like some dragons as he glared.

“Ye-es?!”

“Stay awake- we're almost there. If you fall asleep while I’m dragging your ass up the mountain I will bite your pretty nose clean off!” The demonic monkey spat, then, half carried, half dragged Sophie the rest of the way. Leaning against his back Sophie sighed. Through the clothing she could feel it- like desert sand warmed by the sun. Delicious heat. Sophie - who wouldn’t in normal circumstances have cuddled so close- practically melted against the warmth. What else could she do? Wukong was dragging her up the mountain- practically carrying her. She could see the bend in the mountain pass- a steep cliff where the road cut itself around and hugged the mountain as a snake would do climbing along a vine. Almost there.

“How come you get to be so warm?” She grumbled, not realizing she had said it aloud. Wukong had heard however, and his face became a storm cloud as his heart took a shuddering beat.

“Maybe grow some fur or ask for the Buddha to make you some furry creature. Bet he would too.” Wukong grumbled back.

Stupid fucking women.

They reached the curve in the mountain where Pigsy and Sandy- mostly Sandy since the pig demon kept complaining about how cold his snout was- were setting up three tents. The tents were simple, the leather treated against wet weather and solid. All pigsy had to do was drive the stakes into the stone which, it seemed, he was failing at.

“It’s so damn cold!” Pigsy snorted angrily stamping his hands together, having missed the spike for the third time. “Blasted Heaven and whoever ordered a storm now of all times! Don’t they know who’s crossing these mountains?”

“Less talking more working.” Sandy angrily chided. He had finished setting up the second tent all on his own. When Pigsy went to open his mouth to make another comment and the usually peaceful Sandy shoved him across the shallow cave to the last tent and the one closest to the entrance.

As Wukong walked past, Pigsy lifted an eyebrow at the strange sight. The Monkey King could see the pig beginning to lift a lip in a smirk only to stop when he noticed Sophie’s shivering.

“What did you do?” Those were the last words Wukong expected to come out of his fellow brothers mouth.

“WHAT DID I DO?!” He bared his teeth, fangs on display. He didn’t have time for Pigsy or for his own feelings to confuse him. He knew Sophie was practically clinging to his back like the newborn monkeys did to their mothers back on Flower Fruit Mountain. He was very aware of it. The last thing he needed was for this thick pink idiot to start shit with him.

“I DIDNT DO SHIT YOU THICK HEADED BOAR.” He spat, continuing past. “THIS IDIOT STARTED FALLING ASLEEP IN THE FUCKING STORM. NOW SHUT UP AND GET THE OTHER TENT SET UP.”

Wukong left Pigsy behind, angrily chattering to himself and feeling embarrassed all the while. He couldn’t let that thick womanizing boar know any of Wukongs feelings. If he did, the damn brute would only press his nose to it and route deeper. The sooner he got Sophie off his back the better. Even though he didn’t entirely want that.

He reached the back corner of the cave, setting Sophie down. She huffed, letting go with some reluctance to his warm back. The Monkey King knelt, leaning in. Sophie’s shivering was less. Good.

“I’ll be back- I have to make sure the pink ham doesn’t fuck up the last tent. Once I’ve tended Yulong and seen to my masters comforts I’ll be back to check on you.”

Sophie pulled her knees to her chest. She was still so cold. She wanted nothing more then to curl up and sleep- to find something warm and hold onto it. She heard Wukong from far off - but she nodded.

“S-S-sure… just gonna fall .. asleep.”

“Don’t fall asleep you idiot.” He snapped.

“Why not?” Sophie groaned. She was tired

“Remember. You are in wet clothes. Wake up just to remember - Think. Use that reading brain of yours.” He flicked her between the eyes. That woke Sophie up enough as the pain cleared her head.

“Ow, what the hell Wukong?!” Sophie felt like she had come out of a daze. Her fingers started rubbing at the pain. It wasn’t terrible but … she felt like a child be scolded. Sophie glared up into the smug monkey face.

“Awake? Good. Now fucking listen before you nod off again.” Wukong smirked just a bit. The itching beneath his fur had eased just enough upon seeing her get mad. He spoke slowly, for her sake but also to press in how much he enjoyed giving her orders- and being right about them. “Your clothes are wet. You can’t sleep in them. Change to new ones. In fact, bundle up as much as you can. I’ll be back to check on you.”

Wukong stood up, then turned back around to flick her on the forehead again.

“Ow! I’m up, I'm up!” Sophie rubbed at the space between her brows.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes yes …” she uncurled herself and stood as well, looking down at the Monkey King. “Get out of wet clothes and get new ones. Bundle up. That really hurt you know.”

“If you are still in wet fucking clothes, I’ll do a lot worse then just smack you between the eyes.” And then he was away, already cussing Pigsy out who had, somehow, managed to rip the tent.

It was a only about twenty minutes later but Sophie had managed not to fall asleep. She had gotten into the tent and had peeled the worst of the wet clothes off. Her poor shoes were the worst for wear- the socks and the soles were soaked. She would have to wear her spare shoes tomorrow and let these ones dry. Sophie had set the wet clothes to the farthest side of the tent. She was now dressed in a pair of gray sweats, a long sleeve and her hoodie of bright orange with clementines decorating the front. She felt much warmer and absolutely exhausted. Her fingers were red where the cold had gotten them, her lips felt chapped from the dry air, and her body just kept shivering.

Sophie had retreated almost completely into the hoodie- only her face was viewable.

The tent flap lifted and Wukong stepped in, a bowl of some sort of wild berries and cold rice in one hand. He took one look at her huddled there on her sleeping mat and snorted.

“You look like some orange orangutan.”

“Hahah very funny. See how you like the cold when you don’t have fur.” She shot back. Wukong offered the bowl to her and she took it, digging into it with gusto.

“How’s Trip?” She asked between bites.

“Alive.” Wukong leaned back, putting his arms beneath his head as he stared up at the tent ceiling. “You two would have frozen if not for me- you were both starting to look pinker than yangmei fruit.”

“Thank you.” Sophie said.

“Mm? What are you thankful for ?”

Oh he was gonna ask her for all of it then? Sophie looked at him. Wukong had propped himself up enough to stare at her, waiting.

“Thank you for the food.” She lifted the now empty bowl- she had been famished - to him. “Thank you for finding a spot to rest. And … thanks for dragging me out of the snow.”

“You almost died I hope you know that.” He smirked, laying back down, eyes closing. She followed suit, too tired to sit up anymore or even bicker back with him.

“Yeah I did …” Sophie yawned. Usually she wouldn’t admit so readily to Wukong just how certain situations had made her dependent upon him. He was always, in some way or other, saving the lot of them. When Tripitaka was snatched up by some Goblins belonging to some chieftain of a nearby mountain, when Pigsy had boasted that they didn’t need Wukong and then (almost immediately) failed to find food when Wukong was sent away. He had stopped the dragon horse from foundering and taken to the care of his hooves and coat many a time. The Monkey King had seen to restoring the missing supplies from Sophie pack when a group of mischievous raccoon spirits had taken it. Wukong had even replaced Sandy’s teakettle when it was smashed in battle (Sophie was pretty sure he had stolen it).

He may act aloof and pompous but deep down, this big old brute cared for them. Even Pigsy.

Sophie felt her eyes grow heavy as Wukong kept talking about how she had stumbled in the snow like some “dumb struck fawn” until he came to help her.

As she relaxed to the sound of his voice rumbling on and on, it almost felt … cozy. Yes Wukong may like to slide the occasional wriggly salamander into her water skin, he may thumb through her things like they were his, he may call her idiot, stupid women, and softie. But. There was no real malice behind his actions.

He was also kind of … warm. She scooted closer, half listening to the Monkey ramble on about the idiocy of mortals and the greatness of beings such as him. He was rambling on about his natural prowess over mortals and how he had mastered the arts of immortality and Tripitaka couldn’t even master warding off a cold. Sophie fell asleep before he could get to the part about her looking like a slack jawed idiot in the snow.

Wukong was only a quarter way through his regaling of the story of how he had saved everyone this day when he felt hands wrap around his chest.

His heart nearly flew into his throat as he stopped dead in his speech. His mouth was open, voice cut off halfway through his speech. Sophie curled into his side, face buried in the crook of his neck and so close to his ear he could feel her breathing against its shell.

Electricity shot threw him, fur standing on end as if he had been in a thunderstorm.

He was suddenly very aware of many things. Of Sophie’s hands that had escaped that ridiculous orange sweatshirt and were now burrowed into his fur. One arm was across his chest. The second one was now, somehow beneath his head and tugging on his shoulder. Sophie’s face rested on his arm and in the curve of his neck, her face rubbing back and forth like a cat. As if … she was enjoying the feel of it.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Sophie moved just a bit, mumbling in his ear and Wukong felt his tail lash like it had just been bit. She didn’t say anything coherent but — the proximity alone—

Fucking Hell and all its Judges.

Sophie was … cuddling him.

She was practically twined around him.

And she smelled fantastic. Her scent always changed- sometimes it held a hint of lemons and the sweetness of grass, other times it floated like rain clouds and smelled of stones. But all of it together had a larger perfume beneath it. It was just her. Yes there were moments when her scent changed just enough that he felt like he was adding new spices onto his favorite dish. The essence of it, however, was just Sophie.

And now that cloud was all around him, filling his nose.

He looked at her, turning his head just a fraction to see.

Big mistake.

She was asleep, passed out completely. She looked so … fragile asleep. The dark circles beneath her eyes spoke of how she hadn’t been sleeping well. Her nose was stupidly pink like a Red Pika in her pale face. The cold must have chapped it. His eyes darted to her lips …

Mistake number two.

Wukong looked away, feeling his face flame. Fuck. Shit. He was stuck in a predicament now. He hadn’t meant to chat away about himself for so long that Sophie would fall asleep. Wukong was at war with himself. On one hand, he needed to get out of here. To leave before Pigsy and the others found out- before Sophie found out.

He couldn’t let anyone be that close to him- couldn’t let anyone be as close as Sophie was right now. It was a liability to his pride, to his reputation—

To his heart. Because if she rejected him it would ruin the friendship they had. And the feeling he had building in his chest- he would crush it in his fist before he let it jeopardize that peace between them.

I have to leave —

Wukong tried to move-

Only to feel Sophie’s fingers tug in his fur and her sleepy voice grumble “m’no don’t go.”

Jade Emperor flay me and boil me alive again.

In all the hundreds of years of living, Wukong had only felt trapped like this but once before. The first time he had lost his wager to the Buddha, having been unable to somersault out of his hand. The second time? He was trapped because he allowed it. He was trapped in a way no one in Heaven could have predicted- or had thought to do. Wukong had been placed in vats to be boiled, had wormed and tricked his way out of every trap and net that had attempted to keep his mischief managed. It had taken Buddha and his wager to finally end Wukongs terrorization of Heaven.

Wukong couldn’t move now. He was tethered here by frail fingers and the steady beat of a mortal's heart.

He could hear her heartbeat, feel it against his side. It was steady, soft. Like the steady roar of Water-Curtain Cave. Like the wind through the trees of the orchards on his mountain.

She was mortal. One day that steady beat would stop as all mortal hearts did.

That set his tail to lashing just a bit.

Hasn't she been afraid of dying? Of growing old? He remembered hearing a conversation late at night- when Tripataka and Sophie had those rare mortal conversations where he was explicitly not allowed to sit in on. He hadn’t known why it was such a secret conversation. So of course, since it wasn’t an order, Wukong had pulled a hair from his tail and made a doppel and floated somewhere nearby but out of sight to eavesdrop. The Monk and Reader had been chatting about death, about Sophie’s future.

Well her fears were unfounded. Doesn’t she know I would take care of her? Sophie shifted a bit closer as a gust of wind slipped beneath the tent flat he had left unsecured. Damn it all. Wukong carefully, o so carefully, shifted himself. He slid his body so he was now lying on his side, setting Sophie’s head beneath his chin. It was all the invitation Sophie needed to cuddle closer and escape from the wind.

“You stupid women.” He angrily whispered into her hair. He wouldn’t let her die. He would just fix that. He would fix a lot of her problems. She just had to tell him. He was Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven. He knew of a hundred different ways to achieve immortality. He could fix them all. Like her problem right now of being cold.

He was too tense to relax fully- too aware- but he grew just a fraction larger. His size now dwarfed Sophie’s a good bit and gave her a bit more to tangle into. And she did. Sophie curled her knees up, shivering slowing. Wukong waited. Watching. When finally the shivering had ceased he allowed just a fraction of tension to slide off of him. This stupid softie is gonna make me soft. The thought didn’t bother him as much as it would have months ago.

Maybe he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight but…

He could make her life Hell in the morning. It was something that she owed him on. His face was screwed furiously into a scowl because all he wanted to do was enjoy this moment but if he did- if he really truly did- he didn’t know if he would be able to stop.

She was most assuredly going to be bombarded tomorrow with the most annoying and snappish teasing and toying a King of Monkeys and tricks could give.

Sophie woke with a start as something cold and wet slapped her in the face. She panicked as any person would.

“GaH! DEMON!” She cried, grabbing at her face and throwing it aside. It was a wet rag.

“Relax.” Wukongs voice laughed at her. “Unless cloth can become possessed and has gained a hunger for red nosed mortal flesh, you're fine.”

He was at the tent flap, grinning ear to ear in a grin that promised problems. Really so early in the morning and he already wants to play games ?

“You could have woken me up in a number of other ways- why did you pick that?” Sophie rubbed at her face, feeling … huh. She didn’t feel as sore as she usually felt. When Sophie woke up there was almost a constant crick of pain in her neck from whatever odd angle she had slept in on the ground.

Maybe I had been so tired my body just finally didn’t care.

He shrugged. “You stink. Next place we stop at you better demand a bath of some sort or other.”

“Thanks….” She grumbled, letting the sarcasm drip off her words. She took the cloth up, rubbing the sleep out of her face and the worst of the dirt off her face and arms. She would kill for a warm bath, one that would wake up her bones and chase the last of the cold from her body. Once clean, she checked her wet clothes, bundling them away in a separate part of her pack to avoid them dampening the rest of her stuff. Then she stepped out of the tent, smelling the fire and the promise of breakfast being made.

Only for her feet to slip right from beneath her as a monkey foot stuck out and caught her ankle.

“WUKONG!”

He laughed, face full of malicious mischief as Sophie gathered herself up to chase after the errant Monkey. To do what, she didn’t know. He was a mystical demonic creature born of stone and she just a mortal women. As the morning light cut into the cave and Tripitaka had to order his disciple to calm down after he once again tripped her and she almost went sprawling into rocks, the pilgrims ate breakfast. They broke down their tents. And they were once again on the road.

None were the wiser of Wukongs happier mood. He hid it beneath a storm of frowns and a game of teasing torture as he became partically insufferable to Sophie. The threat of the hoop tightening spell was the only true damper to his mood when Tripataka heard Sophie scream as snow was dropped down the back of her shirt.

As the sun rose higher and the word was cast in a frosty flash of refracted gold, Wukong made a decision. He would solve Sophie problem of growing old. It was easy. And if Buddha couldn’t send her back…

Well she was a great sport for pestering and heckling. The least he could do as a benevolent King is give the poor women a roof over her head.

Maybe a few dresses down the line...

Girls liked dresses right?

“Hey Reader!” He called.

“What?”

“Dresses or suits ? What did you wear in that fake time long after this one ? Or whatever fake dimension you fell out of. What did you prefer ?”

And thus began the long hour debate that somehow pulled every one of them: Pigsy, Sandy and Tripitaka, into what was a heated discussion on the best attire for the best occasions.

[orofeaiel]

Training for backpacking!

[fatehbaz]

Trail cameras in the mountains of Turkey captured a rare sighting of a leopard species previously considered extinct for decades, officials said. The Anatolian leopard was filmed prowling around the mountains in two separate regions, Turkey’s Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry said in a Thursday, Jan. 26, news release. Vahit Kirişci, a ministry official, shared footage of the wildcat on Facebook. [...] Anatolian leopards are an endangered species, Turkish officials said. The last leopard was thought to be killed in 1974, and the species was considered extinct for 45 years. However, a male Anatolian leopard was spotted in 2019. Researchers have traced the rare leopard species to four regions in Turkey, but little is known about the animal’s population size and distribution, according to the release. [...] Turkish officials did not specify where the leopard was seen or when the different videos were taken. Experts estimate only 10 to 15 Anatolian leopards still live in the wild, according to Biology Online. [...]

---

All content above, headline, image, caption, and text published by: Aspen Pflughoeft. “Elusive and rare leopard - considered extinct for 45 years - caught on film in Turkey.” Miami Herald. 26 January 2023.

---

For context, the historic and current distribution range of the leopard:

Leopards are now extinct across most of their former habitat throughout Asia. Most of this extinction happened only since 1900 AD.

The “Anatolian leopard” of the Anatolian peninsula and eastern Mediterranean is sometimes considered to be a variation of and synonymous with the so-called “Persian leopard” which lives nearby in the Caucasus and Persia. Together, the Anatolian and Persian leopards are referred to either as Panthera pardus saxicolor or Panthera pardus tulliana.

Here is the current known distribution range of the recognized subspecies of leopard. On this map, the Anatolian and Persian leopards are labeled as “P.p. saxicolor” range and shown in orange color:

More recent images of the Anatolian leopard within Turkey. These screenshots are from the social media page of Vahit Kirişci, January 2023: 

[halsins-herbal-underpants]

Bound

Dayan (Tav) x Halsin || modern human AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

PWP, D/s, Bondage, Sub Halsin

CW: None needed (afaik)

Kinks: Heavy bondage, sensory deprivation, implied orgasm denial, light objectification

Approx. 1800 words

This is entirely self-indulgent & barely edited; I apologize for nothing ~~

Read on Ao3

___________________________

"There we go...all laced up, pulled tight, and buckled in."

Dayan tested the straps up and down, tightening where loose, and loosening where they were a smidge too tight. "How's the circulation? Got room to wiggle your toes?"

He looked up expectantly after a length of silence, running a darkly tanned hand through his silvery-white ponytail. Pale violet eyes blinked in realization and Dayan huffed an embarrassed laugh as he realized why he wasn't getting any answers to his questions.

"Sorry, love -- wasn't thinking." He moved up and worked at the tight buckle of the gag then gently pried it loose. A lewd wet suck sounded as he slowly pulled the lengthy dildo free, trails of saliva still connecting it to the mouth that snugly housed it moments ago.

Halsin gave a cough and exhaled shakily, tilting his head towards Dayan, licking his tongue quickly over wet lips. His hazel eyes, still red rimmed and hazy with desire, flicked to his partner's face.

"It's good," he rasped, his voice slightly hoarse from their earlier adventures with the crop.

Dayan smiled, pleased, and patted Halsin's exposed hip. "Good."

His hands shifted to stroke slowly over the bigger male's body, tracing the seam of the leg binder that trapped Halsin's lower limbs in a tight triangle of leather from hip to foot. A similar device bound his arms behind his back, laced up tight within the confining material, covered all the way to his fingertips. Dayan adjusted the straps over Halsin's shoulders that held the arm binder in place. "Fingers aren't numb?"

"No...Everything's good, my h-heart," Halsin gasped, writhing a bit from the touch of Dayan's hands over his sensitized skin. They'd had such a long session of pleasure and pain beforehand -- he'd had no fewer than eight orgasms this time, though he knew his love was aiming for a baker's dozen soon -- his skin was practically tingling and it shivered at the man's gentle caresses.

Especially when he ran them over the unbound and uncovered parts of his body -- his ass, his plush belly, his round pecs. Fingers playfully pulled at the chain hanging between Halsin's piercings, tugging his nipples and making the big man jolt with a gasp.

Dayan just smiled. "Wonderful...then let's get started. I can't wait to try out Jenevelle's new recommendation. She said when Lae'zel used this during their last playtime, she saw stars."

Halsin chuffed a strained laugh. "Sh-she is quite the wildcat, so I can only imagine ha, how...impressive the sensation may be."

"Well, we'll start slow and see from there," Dayan grinned, giving Halsin's plump ass an affectionate squeeze, the skin still tender and lined with red welts. He loved the soft moan that brought, but didn't want to get distracted so didn't chase after more. He pulled the toy, a long silicone vibe, from its case and carefully lubed it up.

Luckily he and Halsin had been having fun for most of the afternoon and his big bear was still pliant and ready, so he didn't need to prepare him much. He did tease him a little, aiming the bottle of lube and squirting a hefty amount right between those plush, hairy cheeks. Halsin gasped and shuddered hard.

"C-cold!" he whined, and Dayan couldn't help but laugh. He slid his fingers around Halsin's gaping, well-fucked rim and then slowly past it, spreading the lube inside him.

"I'm sorry, my honeybear," Dayan soothed, leaning down to kiss Halsin's temple, grinning at the shudder that ran through the larger man as his fingers worked deeper. "Sometimes you're just too cute not to torment."

Halsin couldn't respond, too distracted with Dayan's fingers inside his pleasantly-sore hole, his already hard cock swelling even more around the silicone ring situated at its base. He knew the other man was doing it on purpose, but he couldn't be annoyed; it meant he was owed payback of his own when their positions were inevitably switched. That was always worth the teasing.

His body stretched against Dayan's lap as Dayan kept idly fingering him, a low shaking moan slipping from his kiss-swollen lips. His jaw was aching a little from the workout Dayan gave his mouth earlier, but he was still looking forward to being gagged. He'd given all his lover had asked for in service, now was when he'd get to relax and receive -- not have to think, just exist, bound and filled.

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought and he exhaled a shaky breath; his erection throbbed against his thigh, dripping slowly.

Dayan smiled softly and used the hand that cupped Halsin's head to turn his face towards him, bending to give his beautiful bear a slow, gentle kiss.

"Are you ready?" he asked as he sat back up, and Halsin nodded. "All right. Press the clicker for me, love." Halsin did so, the loud sound audible even through the leather binds. "Perfect. Twice to stop, once to keep going. I'll keep checking in, but don't hesitate if you want to take a break or stop entirely, okay?"

"Right," Halsin murmured and tilted his head up again. "Kiss me once more, my heart...?"

Dayan melted, his eyes softening as he cradled Halsin's head and happily leaned down to press a deep, loving kiss to those bite-bruised lips, tongue sliding between them to tease the older man's own. Dayan kissed him until they were both breathless, then pulled back and stroked through Halsin's damp chestnut hair.

"You're so pretty like this, babe," he murmured. "Flushed warm and soft and ruined~"

He leaned down and nipped gently at Halsin's bottom lip, earning a moan. "Breathe deep and slow," he whispered and gripped the large vibe, slowly easing it into him. It slid in without much fuss, though he could feel how tight the fit was, Halsin's rim still having to stretch despite being fucked open so well just hours before. His big bear let out a husky, quivering moan, low and long, until the vibe was completely seated inside. Dayan adjusted the harness he'd buckled onto Halsin earlier and slipped the end of the vibe into the ring, situating it so it'd stay buried deep no matter how much Halsin may writhe.

"Feeling okay?" he asked and Halsin nodded fervently, letting out a shaking breath.

"Bigger than I thought," he gasped, "but it's good, it's good..."

Dayan grinned and played fingers over Halsin's bottom lip, sliding one inside his mouth for the older man to eagerly suckle. "Perfect. You're being so good for me, my love. Proud of you." He got a muffled whimper in return and chuckled low, then slipped his fingers free and shifted his lap beneath the other man. "Ready for the gag again?"

"Yes, please," came the breathless plea and Dayan's cock stirred. He exhaled deeply, shaking his head in awe of how his love could arouse him with just his husky voice alone, and picked the gag back up. He cradled Halsin's jaw with one hand, carefully sliding the dildo back into his mouth with the other, easing it in until he felt resistance. Halsin twitched and gagged a little, and Dayan paused, stroking his jaw with a thumb.

"Easy now, love. Open your throat for me," he murmured. Halsin inhaled sharply through his nose, and then his throat relaxed and Dayan pushed the dildo the rest of the way until the mask was flush with Halsin's face.

He gently wrapped the straps around his lover's head, buckling it, careful not to catch his hair, and then patted his throat. He could feel the end of the dildo bulge a little and a shiver of arousal went through him. "Can you breathe clearly? Mask not too tight?" he asked and got a single click in response, Halsin testing his airway by breathing in and out deeply.

Satisfied, Dayan reached down and squeezed an ass cheek approvingly. "Good boy. Just a little more now, you're doing so well." Halsin gave a muffled, choked whine in response, his body writhing -- which made him gasp and groan, the vibe shifting deep inside him with every motion. Dayan watched his swollen cock twitch and grinned.

"You still want the full hood?" A single click and Dayan obliged, grabbing the hood from the coffee table, then readjusted Halsin on his lap. He gently worked the hood down over Halsin's head, gathering his hair to avoid pulling it, until the man's entire head was covered with slick featureless neoprene. He adjusted it so the breathing holes were flush with Halsin's nostrils and then threaded a thick leather collar through the loops on the neck and buckled it snugly.

He hooked a finger in the collar's D ring and tugged, forcing Halsin to bend towards him. A soft moan sounded from beneath the hood and Dayan huffed a hard breath, eyes roaming over Halsin's body.

"God you look so sexy like this," he muttered, stroking a hand over the nearly flat face of the hood. "Breathing okay, babe?" he asked, loud enough for Halsin to easily hear. There was a pause and a soft click, and Dayan exhaled slowly, trying to control himself. He could practically smell Halsin's arousal, his cock thick and stiff and dark at the tip, drooling precum all over Dayan's nice couch.

Dayan reached down to run a finger casually beneath that twitching shaft from root to head, making Halsin jerk and thrust his hips forward involuntarily. A fresh drop of clear liquid pearled at the tip and fell. Dayan caught it on the pad of his finger and brought it to his lips.

"Mmh...you still taste like the sweetest nectar," he murmured. Halsin writhed in return, the only response he could give.

"All right. You ready to settle in?" he asked and received an affirmative; pulling a little remote from his pocket, Dayan leaned into the couch cushions, getting comfortable. He arranged Halsin onto his side, a soft pillow propped under his neck with his head in Dayan's lap. He stroked the older man's back until he relaxed.

And then he turned the vibrator on.

A strained, muffled groan came from the almost entirely-bound bear on his lap, Halsin's cock twitching along with his quivering body. Dayan grinned and set the controller on the side table.

"Low setting for now; you're still so sensitive, after all," he sighed, tugging on the piercings chain and enjoying the higher pitched noise it pulled from his partner's throat. Halsin writhed as that vibe buzzed away merrily deep inside, and his love watched for a bit, enjoying the fruits of his labor.

Dayan settled back and poured himself another glass of wine from the bottle they'd opened and enjoyed hours ago. He picked up the book he'd been reading and rested it against Halsin's head, taking a languid sip of wine, ready to relax awhile, as his pretty honeybear sank into the depths of writhing, twitching pleasure, deprived of all sensations but his lover's touch.

"Pace yourself, my love," he grinned, flipping to the next page, as Halsin trembled softly in his lap. "We're only on the first setting...you've got twelve more to go. It's going to be a lengthy night~"

[venus-haze]

Eat Your Heart Out (Severen x Reader)

Summary: Feral vampires are few and far between, and Severen isn’t sure what to think when you begin trailing the clan. 

Note: Woman reader, but no descriptors are used. This is based on a request by @bowdowntolouis! I love that the Near Dark universe is so vague with its vampire rules and whatnot, because it gives me room to make things up. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Blood, gore, descriptions of mild disemboweling, I guess some elements of cannibalism because the reader’s a messy eater. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The first time he saw you, he didn’t think much of it. Another pretty face in a backward-ass town they’d leave for the dust as soon as night fell the following day, anyway. He caught it, though, the faintest scent of dead blood that he couldn’t dwell on, because Homer was corralling everyone into a convenience store to see if they had a decent comic book selection. 

Of course, they’d happened upon a dry town. Not a deal-breaker, but messing with drunks was always more fun. In lieu of a bar, the convenience store was the gathering place for the town’s residents after dark with its worn, old-timey soda counter and handful of tables and chairs with stuffing coming out of the cushions. He scoffed. Burning the place down would practically be doing them a favor.

“Y’all better be careful out there,” an older man said from behind the checkout.

“Why’s that?” Jesse asked, humoring the clerk.

“People are sayin’ there’s some kinda animal attacks, bodies just mauled like you’d never seen. Wildcat or coyotes…somethin’ like that,” he rambled before nodding in the direction of some of the people sitting at the tables. “Few loonies think a woman did it, claim they saw her runnin’ with blood all over her face, eyes like the devil. Just watch out if you know what’s good for ya.”

“Don’t you worry, mister. We ain’t got nothin’ to worry about,” Severn said with a grin, reaching over to pat the clerk’s shoulder. He gripped it with a strong hand, pulling him over the counter and throwing him onto the floor.

“You believe that, about the woman?” Mae asked quietly when they’d finished burning the place down.

He shook his head. “C’mon Mae, y’know these assholes huff paint for fun. They got nothing better to do than make up bullshit like that.”

The second time he saw you, he didn’t even know it was you. Shock had overtaken him when he came across your hunched over figure in a dark alleyway, the scent of blood sharp and fresh as you fed. You looked up, eyes wide with the slightest hint of fear as he stood in the darkness. You could see him just as clearly as he could see you. Silent save for your labored breathing, you began sprinting toward him, only to push him aside as you passed him by, further into the night.

He approached the body you’d left behind. A woman, probably in her mid-thirties. He couldn’t tell exactly from the number you’d done on her face. Leaning in closer, his lip curled upon realizing the woman’s arm was nearly detached from her shoulder, chest caved in as if you’d cracked it open.

Glancing behind his shoulder, he shook his head. And he thought he was fucked up.

Kicking the body with the tip of his steel-toed boot, it flopped back to its lifeless place on the ground. He wasn’t sure what else he was expecting. Leaning closer, he inhaled. The body was fresh. It’d be a shame to let good blood go to waste just because he scared you off. So he fed, shuddering a bit when he rested his hand in the open cavity in her chest and felt something squishy and still warm beneath him. 

Upon further inspection, it was her kidney or liver, though not entirely intact. Severen wasn’t squeamish, but poking around, he found her entrails appeared almost shredded. Desperate, as if you hadn’t fed in weeks. Lack of decorum, maybe. Never learned how to hunt properly and went by base instincts alone. He’d heard rumors of their kind who’d been turned and promptly left to fend for themselves. Most ended up perishing in the daylight without someone to mentor them, show them how to look out for themselves. He supposed some turned out like you. Feral, Jesse had said once. Succumbing to bloodlust like madness.

Less than a week later, he caught your scent, as if he could forget it after that night. If it weren’t for that tell-tale smell of dead blood, he wouldn’t have caught on to you tailing the group. His guard up, unsure of your intentions, he split from everyone else to confront you. Well hidden behind a pharmacy, already in a defensive position when he approached.

Your clothing had seen better days, some of it torn, a result of your victims hopelessly fighting back. Your nails were sharp, as if you’d purposely filed them to do the most damage possible on impact. Smudged eyeliner circled your piercing eyes, though it’d clearly been a long time since you’d reapplied it. Similarly, he couldn’t tell whether your lips were red from lipstick or just bloodstained. No wonder you’d been mistaken for some kind of wild cat woman.

“You followin’ us?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?”

“I just go where I smell blood.”

“Why do you feed like that? Makes things a lot harder on us.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, hands balled into fists at your side. “I don’t have to explain nothing to no one.”

“Look, you do what you want, but leave me and mine out of it.”

“Are you done?” you asked, a deep crease in your forehead as you stared him down.

“Yeah, so get outta here.”

He decided against telling Jesse that he’d confronted you, hoping that his discussion with you would be the end of your paths crossing. You had to have been following them, ending up in the same towns so often couldn’t have been a coincidence. Still, his morbid curiosity wandered with thoughts of what it’d be like to feed as you did. He prided himself on his brutality, his savagery. You gave him motivation to step up his game.

It wasn’t much longer after that, somewhere deep in the heart of Texas, he caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye while he was feeding on a member of a bachelorette party he’d convinced to leave the cowboy bar with him, promising a good time. He growled upon lifting his head from her body, not at all pleased to see you again.

You approached him, and he growled, pushing the body aside as he stood up. 

“Girl, what’d I tell you about following us around? Like you’re some dumb fuckin’ puppy.”

“You feed after me. Vulture,” you spat.

He grabbed you by the scruff of your neck, painfully pulling your face close to his as he hissed, low and dangerous, “I know you didn’t just call me that.”

“You take what’s mine and don’t even feed from the best part.”

“Oh? And what exactly am I missing?”

You became quiet, and he was confused at your lack of a retort until you covered his bloodstained mouth with your hand. “Shh…someone’s coming, don’t you smell it?”

Clean and fresh, the faintest scent of men’s cologne and laundry detergent. A set of heavy footsteps, quick and purposeful. In a rush to get somewhere he’d never arrive, no doubt. Severen grinned from behind your hand.

“Now’s our chance,” you whispered.

Thrill rolled down his spine at how quickly your demeanor changed, past grievances set aside at the chance to hunt. He released his grip on you, and you lifted your hand from his face. The excited, ragged breath you let out was all he could hear over the cacophony of noises in the night. You were fucked up. 

No pretense, no tactics, you simply grabbed the man from where he stood and shoved him to the ground. Severen observed with an almost academic interest as you tore into the man’s throat with your teeth, straddling him to keep him down. 

Bone cracked beneath your feverish grip on the man’s body. You dug your hands deep into the man’s chest and pushed, the overwhelming scent of blood overtaking all else and making his head spin. Standing over you, practically salivating, he found the sight of you mauling this stranger morbidly beautiful.

His eyebrows raised in surprise when you reached into the open cavity and ripped the man’s heart out. The two of you were already covered in blood, but he supposed he never expected to see firsthand how messy humans’ bodies could be if you really took the time to open them up.

“This is what you’re missing,” you said, offering the baseball-sized organ to him.

His hesitation didn’t last long. He grabbed the heart out of your hand, considering how it felt in his. Warm, like when he’d poked around the woman you’d left behind a few weeks earlier, but more firm with the presence of muscle. Unsure of how to approach feeding from it, he bit into the heart as if it were an apple and let the blood flow into his mouth from the puncture he’d made.

He drained the organ of blood, the taste notably better than just sinking his teeth into flesh. Bare skin, he discovered in that moment, left a strange aftertaste in blood, undoubtedly from the perfumes and lotions and bodily fluids that were on it. Maybe you were onto something, feeding straight from the source rather than through a barrier. Admittedly, it was messier, but he wouldn’t have his razor-blade spurs if he were afraid of being messy.

“You’re gonna get me in a lot of trouble,” he said, releasing the heart from his hands, landing haphazardly back in the victim’s exposed ribcage.

“With who?”

An unfamiliar voice startled both of you. “I swear I heard something back there, man.”

“C’mon,” Severen whispered, grabbing your hand.

“Yeah, probably someone getting his dick sucked. Just forget it.”

You shook your head. “We can take them.”

“It’s almost daylight. Just come with me,” he hissed, tugging on your arm.

“You go. If I see you in another town, I’ll come with you, okay?”

Reluctantly, he nodded, releasing your arm and watching as you ran off yet again. After a few weeks, he stopped looking for you, though you drifted in and out of his thoughts often. Months blurred together for him, but at least a year had passed since he’d seen you. Mae had turned Caleb, anyway, and getting him acclimated to their way of life was troublesome enough. You being there would’ve made things all the more difficult.

At least, that’s what he told himself. Channeled his disappointment into being even crueler when he killed, though he could never quite work up the nerve to dig for the heart when he was around the others. Not necessarily too taboo, but rather it reminded him too much of you. Someone he’d spent less than half an hour with. Homer would never let him hear the end of it. Like he was going soft or something.

Before he knew it, they were back in Texas. The state felt endless, but he loved the freedom of the deserts, the small, unsuspecting towns that dotted the highway. They set up camp for a few nights in a motel right off an exit for the only town with more than 5,000 residents for miles. 

Setting out on his own, Severen walked past a grocery store when he smelled it. Dead blood. Following the scent, he ended up in a department store. In the vast cosmetics section, he found you applying the tester eyeliner in a mirror. You’d switched out your old clothes, wearing something newer and more fashionable. He wouldn’t have been surprised if you had just swapped outfits in the dressing room.

Engrossed in your makeup application, you didn’t notice him sneaking up on you until you smelled him. Your back tensed and you threw the eyeliner aside. Turning around, you relaxed upon seeing the grinning creature of the night a few feet away from you.

You smiled a bit when you walked over to him. “Hey, it’s you.”

“I was startin’ to think you stood me up, darlin’,” he said, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

“Sorry about that; it’s a long story.” 

“How does dinner sound? Give us a chance to catch up.”

“It’s like you read my mind. I’m starving.”

[gabessquishytum]

smapril day 6 - magic

(Dream/Hob/Eleanor)

There are certain things that one generally doesn't tell one's wife before the wedding night. Sexual exploits generally fall on that list – particularly when the wife in question is a lady.

So Sir Robert Gadlen doesn't tell Eleanor about his penchant for being absolutely buggered senseless until he's completely sure that she won't throw him out of their noble estate. He makes it quite clear that he's still very interested in her body, her femininity, her cunt (and he says that word specifically because he knows that she likes it when he's vulgar).

She takes it quite well, all things considered. Says that she doesn't mind if her husband wants to take it up the arse, as long as she gets to watch.

She's not exactly over the moon when he shows up back home, long past midnight, definitely worse the wear for wine. He's got a black-clad stranger trailing after him though, and that does pique a little interest inside her.

She's heard enough about the 7th of June to know that the date is important. To know that this stranger is probably also a lot more important than she'll ever really know. So she takes the experience in her stride, offering wine (the stranger refuses, graciously. His leather garments creak slightly when he sits down in the most comfortable chair, spreading his long legs wide. Eleanor abruptly forgets to be cross with Robert for coming home late).

They never make it to the bedroom – to Eleanor and Robert's own marriage bed. It is probably a blessing in disguise, because the black clad stranger would fit so well beneath the canopy, surrounded by the carved bedstead – Eleanor might not be inclined to let him leave.

She sees things that night that she knows she shouldn't. Clothes melting from bodies, furniture adjusting itself to be more comfortable. The fabric of reality warps around the stranger as he holds Robert in his pale arms.

Eleanor has watched her husband take a dozen men by now, but she has never wanted to feel so involved. Usually she watches and takes her pleasure in time, but tonight... Her hand can't work fast enough, beneath her shift. Her fingers tremble as she fucks herself, matching the stranger's rhythm inside Robert stroke for stroke.

The stranger meets her eyes over Robert's shoulder and smiles the smile of a satisfied wildcat. She feels like she knows him then, although she can't place him. Like he's a dream she had once.

Eleanor cums all over her own hand, and feels a cool sensation on her lips. A phantom mouth against her own, as smooth as a seashell. She watches the arch of her husband's back, the shift of muscle beneath flesh. She thinks can taste his sweat on her tongue, if she concentrates. A second shiver of orgasm rips through her and she's blinded by it for a moment.

She misses out on the sight of the stranger fucking up into Robert's sweet arse, but she hears the howling of both men as they cum nearly in tandem. She reaches for Robert, wanting to hold him - he likes to be held, afterwards.

When the stars clear from her eyes, Eleanor looks at her husband. The shadows of tears are on his cheeks, but he's already smiling and pulling Eleanor close. Like the stranger was never there, like a dream, or some kind of black magic, has spirited him away.

They spend the 8th of June together beneath the canopy in their marriage bed. And Eleanor's dreams are never quite the same again.

[silentwillowwhisperer]

Adam

Guys. What if Adam didn’t die?

I’m just going to pretend that the paladins went to earth after Zarkon, Honerva, and aaall of those other random people are successfully defeated.

There’s cursing in this if that bother youuu.

———-

It has been a long, long time since the paladins set foot on Earth.

There’s so many people they want to see.

But for Keith, there’s only one.

Their lions land steadily on the desertous land behind they garrison. A small crowd of people in orange and gray uniforms come out to see why there are multicolored robotic wildcats in their backyard.

Keith walks out of black’s mouth and tells, “Adam!”

The man looks at him and breaks into a wide grin. “Oh my god. Keith you idiot! You’re safe!”

Adam levels him with an icy glare and slaps him across his cheek. Keith rubs at the spot and pretend to be more hurt than he really is. Adam has every right to be mad, it’s not every day that your little brother runs off without warning and disappears for 5 years.

Then they hug again, and this time they sink to the ground in a tiny huddle. Adam wraps his arms around Keith’s head like he’s shielding him from the world, just like he used to years ago when the first met.

Both of their shoulders are shuddering, and they exchange find words. Keith’s family may be small, but once he accepts someone, he’ll never let them go.

The moment is broken when Shiro shuffles over.

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Umm.. hey.”

Adam looks up, and they both stare at each other. Their eyes are filled with hurt and longing, but neither acknowledges it.

Shiro extends his robotic arm. Adam raises a brow as he stares at the appendage. That wasn’t there before Shiro left Earth. He knows that he broke up with Shiro years ago, but he could never move on knowing that Shiro was hurt, or worse.

And now he had the audacity to waltz right up to Adam and ruin his moment with Keith.

He accepts the handshake, and all of the emotion filters out of his eyes.

Shiro had chosen to leave Adam, and chosen to leave Keith. Both boys had spent long nights under a shared blanket sobbing together over him before.

Keith has clearly forgiven him, because loosing someone as important as Shiro hit him hard. Adam is so angry that Shiro could this to their brother, never mind himself.

Keith is over this already. He hates to see his brothers/parental figures so in love but so wounded at the same time.

He finally speaks up. “Damn, there’s a lot of tension in here.” He wiggles his eyebrows in a way that he knows makes him look ridiculous, but he would do anything for his family to be happy again.

They both death-stare him and start lecturing him. Keith is very embarrassed that this is happening in front of everyone he knows, but at least the gays are working together again.

Just saying, Adam should be a lawyer.

-

They both shoot each other longing glances all day, and it drives Keith flipping insane. They think that they are being subtle, it’s so obvious.

Lance eventually comes to Keith with Hunk, Pidge, and Allura trailing close behind, and asks what is going on between them.

Keith feels slightly guilty telling the story of the ex-fiancés without their permission, but if they’re going to put Keith through this torture, then they have it coming for them.

All he wants is for things to go back to how they used to be. But at this rate, it’s unlikely.

-

Keith finds Adam staring out at the sunset from a cliff. Anyone else would have struggled to find him, but Keith knows that this is Adam’s favorite place to look at the sky and generally relax.

Keith sits down next to the brunette, his legs hanging off of the cliff.

They don’t say a word to each other, but Adam is calmed by the younger boy’s presence.

Finally, he speaks.

“I didn’t want it to end like this. I knew that if I stayed with Shiro, if I had encouraged him to go on that trip even with his condition, and then if he had died, that I would never be able to live with myself. I asked him to stay with me, I made him choose between us and that stupid mission. And you know what? He chose to leave us here to deal with our grief alone. I know you hate blaming him for things, but it’s the truth.”

Keith looks down at the rock below him. The setting sun has turned it a glowing orange, and he is reminded of all the times he and Shiro went racing all over this desert. Not a day has gone by since Shiro left them that Keith has not felt the clawing betrayal in him chest. He used to think that Shiro would never leave him like all of the people in his past, but Shiro had proven him wrong.

It hurt.

Still, Keith defends him. “Well, I left you too. You aren’t mad at me, right?”

Adam looks at him seriously.

“You know I will never be mad at you for trying to save the people you love. I know you would do it for me. And don’t you deny it, you have the biggest heart of anyone I know, even if you try to hide it under thorns and biting words.”

Adam’s shoulders slump from their normally upright posture, like he’s being weighted down by the past.

“I wasn’t ready to move on. 15 guys, Keith. I’ve dated 15 Gus because you know I’m a hopeless romantic, but all I can think about is you brother. Where is he? Is he hurt ? Is he alive? Has he changed? Does he still love me?”

Adam’s voice cracks horribly in the last sentence. It wrenches into Keith’s gut, but the words cannot be stopped once they are released.

“Because you know what?” Adam is yelling now. “I FUCKING LOVE TAKASHI SHIROGANE! I HAVE ALWAYS LOVED HIM, AND I WILL NEVER SYOP LOVING HIM!”

His words echo down the valley before fading away.

Tears flood his eyes and dampen his cheeks. Keith wraps his arms around him tightly and just lets him cry.

In an ideal world, this would have never happened, but dating Shiro always will be a wild ride.

“Let him prove himself, Adam. He misses you so much. He knows you were right, but you know him. He’s too proud to admit it.”

-

The next day, Keith is a zombie. His warring thoughts had kept him up all night, and now he can barely see straight.

Lance’s arm around his waist is the only thing keeping him upright, but he feels so much freer after talking to Adam.

He’s so out of it that he doesn’t notice Shiro approaching him until he’s being wrapped up in a warm embrace.

“You are the best little brother ever. Thank you, Otōto.”