#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!

[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.

LINKS

DEMO ✶ PATREON ✶ KO-FI

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

[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.

[the-gay-rat]

Riordan-verse Prophecies

Percy Jackson and the Olympians

You shall go west, and face the god who has turned, You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned, You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend, And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.

You shall sail the iron ship with warriors of bone, You shall find what you seek and make it your own, But despair for your life entombed within stone, And fail without friends, to fly home alone

  Five shall go west to the goddess in chains, One shall be lost in the land without rain, The bane of Olympus shows the trail, Campers and Hunters combined prevail, The Titan’s curse must one withstand, And one shall perish by parent’s hand. 

You shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze, The dead, the traitor, and the lost one raise. You shall rise or fall by the ghost king's hand, The child of Athena's final stand. Destroy with a hero's final breath, And lose a love to worse than death.

A half-blood of the eldest gods shall reach sixteen against all odds and see the world in endless sleep, The hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap, a single choice will end his days, Olympus to preserve or raise.

The heroes of Olympus 

seven heroes shall answer the call to storm or fire the world must fall an oath to keep with final breath as foes bear arms to the doors of death

Child of lightning beware the earth the giants revenge the seven shall birth forge and dove shall break the cage and death unleashed through Heras rage 

 to the north beyond the gods lies the legions crown falling from the ice the son of Neptune shall drown

wisdoms daughter walks alone the mark of Athena burns through Rome twins snuff out the angels breath who holds the key to endless death the giants bane stands gold and pale won through the pain from a woven jail 

Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard 

Wrongly chosen, Wrongly slain, A hero Valhalla cannot contain. Nine days hence the sun must go east, Ere sword of summer unbinds the beast. 

The Trials of Apollo

Caves of blue. 

…Westward, burning.

Pages turning.

…Indiana.

Happiness approaches.

There was once a god named Apollo, Who plunged in a cave blue and hollow, Upon a three seater, the bronze fire-eater, Was forced death and madness to swallow 

The words that memory wrought are set to fire, Ere new moon rises o’er the devils mount, Till bodies fill the Tibet beyond count.

Yet southward must the sun now trace its course, Through the mazes dark to land of scorching death, to find the master of the swift white horse and wrest from the crossword speaker’s breath.

To westward must the lester go; Demeter’s daughter finds her ancient roots. The Cloven guide alone the way does he know, To walk the path in Thine own enemies boots

When three are known and Tiber reached alive, tis only then Apollo starts to jive 

Bronze upon gold

East meets west

Legions are redeemed 

Light the depths 

One against many

Never spirit defeat 

Ancient words spoken 

Shaking old foundations 

Destroy the tyrant 

Aid the winged 

Under golden hills

Great stallion’s foal 

Turn red tides 

Harken the trumpets

Enter strangers home 

Regain lost glory

Apollo faces death in Tarquin’s tomb unless the doorway to the soundless god is opened by (Bellona’s Daughter)

A wildcat near the spinning lights. The tomb of Tarquin with horses bright. 

To open doors two-fifty-four 

O son of Zeus the final challenge face, The tow’r of Nero two alone ascend, dislodge the beast that hast usurped thy place, The son of Hades, cavern runner’s friend, Must show the secret way unto the throne. On Nero’s own your lives now depend. A dare reveals the path that was unknown, And bears destruction; Lion, snake-entwined or else the princeps never be o’erthrown 

Apollos flesh and blood shall soon be mine, Alone he must descend into the dark, The sibyl never again to see his sign, Lest wrestle with me till se his final spark, The god dissolves, leaving not a mark 

Apollo must fall, but Apollo must rise again 

The Sun and the Star

Go forth and find the one who calls out your name, who suffers and despairs for refusing to remain; there leave some of equal value behind, or your body and soul no one will ever find.

(correct me if i got any wrong)

[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.

[darkenedroses-world]

Second Opinion — Pezzy x Reader

f!reader, shopping shenanigans, fluff and smut, spicy but sweet, unexpected confession, request🦋

Shopping with the guys had been chaos from the start. It was supposed to be a simple trip—Kelly wanted to pick up a few things, and you decided to tag along for company. Somehow, it spiraled into half the group tagging along, mostly for the entertainment of watching Wildcat argue about the price of socks. But now Kelly had dipped out early, leaving you alone with the guys in the middle of the lingerie section. “Why are we even here?” Jaren grumbled, leaning on the cart like he was physically weighed down by the sight of lace and satin everywhere. “I’m just grabbing one thing,” you replied, holding up a red bra you’d been eyeing. “Then you can all go back to the manly side of the store with the sports equipment or whatever.” “That’s fine,” Droid chimed in. “But why are we here in the first place? Didn’t Kelly ditch us like, 20 minutes ago?” “Because I need a second opinion,” you explained, holding the bra against yourself to check it in the mirror. “And she’s not here, so… Max?”

Pezzy, who had been silently scrolling through his phone, froze mid-swipe. His head shot up, his eyes widening as he registered your expectant look. “Wait, me?” “Well, yeah,” you said with a shrug. “You’re the only one I trust to give me a real answer.” “You trust him?” Jaren laughed, throwing an arm around Droid. “Good luck, Pez. Try not to pass out.” Ignoring them, you motioned for Pezzy to follow you to the dressing rooms. “Come on. I just need to know if it looks good.” Max hesitated, glancing back at the others, who were already making obscene gestures and exaggerated faces. He shot them a glare before trailing after you, his heart already pounding in his chest. You slipped into the dressing room and shut the door behind you, leaving Max awkwardly lingering in the small hallway. A few moments later, you called out to him. “Okay, you ready?” “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he muttered under his breath. When you stepped out, Max nearly forgot how to breathe.

The red lace bra hugged your figure perfectly, the intricate detailing drawing his attention in all the worst—and best—ways.

You twirled lightly, hands on your hips as you looked at him expectantly. “So? What do you think?” Max swallowed hard, his brain short-circuiting. “Uh… it looks… nice.” “Just nice?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Not sexy enough to, you know, maybe snag a guy one day?” His face flushed instantly, and he stammered, “I—I didn’t mean just nice, I meant… yeah, it’s definitely sexy. I mean, you’re sexy! Wait, no, that’s not what I—” You laughed, cutting him off. “Relax, Max, I’m kidding. But seriously, does it fit okay?” He nodded quickly, still trying to keep his eyes from wandering too much. “Yeah, it… it looks perfect.” “Good,” you said with a smile, completely unaware of the internal meltdown he was having. You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Thanks for being a good sport. I owe you.” Max’s breath hitched, and he swore his heart was going to give out. “Y-yeah, no problem.” You stepped back into the dressing room, leaving Max standing there, still trying to recover from the visual assault you’d just delivered.

He ran a hand through his hair, muttering to himself, “Pull it together, Max. She’s just messing with you.” But when you opened the door again, still wearing the bra and leaning casually against the frame, his heart rate spiked. “Hey,” you said, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “I just realized—if it’s too much trouble to go back to the guys, I could always get your private opinion.” Max froze, his mouth opening and closing as his brain short-circuited. “Uh… private?” You stepped closer, your confidence growing as you noticed his flustered expression. “Yeah, you know. Like… a second opinion. Or maybe you could… help me test how well it holds up?” Your tone was teasing, but there was a flicker of something more in your eyes—a challenge. Max’s throat went dry as you reached for his hand, guiding him into the dressing room and closing the door behind him. The space was cramped, the air thick with tension as you turned to face him. “Max,” you said softly, your voice losing some of its playfulness.

“You okay? You’re kinda quiet.” “I… yeah,” he managed, though his voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes flickered over you, taking in every detail. “You look… amazing.” You smiled, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between you. “You’re sweet, you know that?” His breath hitched as your fingers brushed against his chest. He was trying so hard to keep himself in check, but the way you were looking at him—like he was the only person in the world—made it impossible. “Do you really think I look sexy?” you asked, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Yes,” he blurted out, the word escaping before he could stop it. His hands twitched at his sides, desperate to touch you but unsure if he should. Your smile widened, and you closed the gap between you, your lips brushing against his ear. “Good,” you murmured. “Because I think you do, too.” That was all it took for him to snap. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, and laced with all the pent-up feelings he’d been holding back for so long. You gasped against his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as he backed you against the wall. His lips trailed down your jaw and neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. When his mouth finally reached the edge of the bra, he hesitated, his breath warm against your skin. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice rough with restraint. You nodded, your chest heaving. “More than okay.” His hands slid up your sides, his fingers brushing over the delicate lace as he kissed along the curve of your breast. Your head fell back against the wall, a soft moan escaping your lips as his touch grew bolder. “Max,” you breathed, your voice barely audible. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “You have no idea what you do to me.” “Show me,” you whispered, pulling him back to you. And he did.

Every kiss, every touch, every whispered word left no doubt about how much he wanted you. The small dressing room faded away, leaving just the two of you, lost in each other. Max’s lips found yours again, softer this time but no less fervent, as his hands roamed your sides, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You could feel the restraint in him, the way his fingers hesitated at the hem of the lace, his lips pausing as though waiting for you to pull him closer. And when you did—hooking your arms around his neck and pressing your body firmly against his—he let out a low groan, his control fraying at the edges. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky and raw. His hands slipped behind you, fingers brushing along the clasp of your bra before stopping. “Can I?” You nodded, your breath hitching. “Please.” With practiced care, he unhooked the clasp, letting the straps slide down your shoulders. The red lace fell away, and his breath hitched as he took you in, his gaze so full of awe it made you blush.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his hands gently cupping your sides as his lips returned to your neck, trailing down slowly. His kisses were deliberate, each one igniting a spark that left you clinging to him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “You’re not even looking at the bra anymore,” you teased breathlessly, your head tilting back to give him more access. Max laughed softly, his lips brushing over your collarbone. “The bra’s great. Fantastic, even. But it’s what’s under it that’s got me distracted.” His words sent a jolt of heat through you, and before you knew it, your hands were tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Fair’s fair,” you said, your voice teasing yet laced with need. He let you pull his shirt over his head, his toned chest and shoulders now on full display. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander, a small smile playing on your lips. “Not bad,” you murmured, biting your bottom lip. “Not bad?” he echoed, a playful smirk tugging at his mouth. “Guess I’ll have to try harder to impress you.”

Before you could respond, he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you against the wall as his lips captured yours once more. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, the new angle sending a surge of heat through you. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you securely as he kissed you like his life depended on it. The air between you was electric, the confined space of the dressing room amplifying every sound, every breath, every whispered name. But even amidst the passion, Max was careful, his touch reverent as though you might break beneath his hands. “Max,” you whispered, your voice shaky but insistent. “I want you.” His forehead pressed against yours, his breathing ragged as he fought to keep control. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Your lips found his again, softer this time, full of unspoken promises. “Then stop waiting.” Max’s lips crashed into yours again, any hesitation melting away as his hands roamed your body with newfound confidence.

His fingertips traced over the curves of your waist, your hips, as though committing every inch of you to memory. The weight of his touch, the sheer passion behind it, sent heat pooling in your core. Your back pressed against the cool wall of the dressing room as his lips trailed lower, brushing over the sensitive skin of your collarbone before descending further. He paused, his breath warm against your bare chest, his hands steadying you as though giving you one last chance to stop him. But the soft whimper that escaped your lips only encouraged him, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. “Max,” you breathed, your voice trembling as your hands tangled in his hair. He groaned at the sound of his name, his lips capturing your nipple and tugging gently, earning another quiet gasp from you. His other hand slid down, gripping your thigh and pulling you even closer against him. Your legs tightened around his waist, the friction of his jeans against your bare skin driving you crazy.

“You’re so—God, you’re so good at this,” you whispered, your head tilting back as he switched sides, his kisses trailing across your chest. “You make it easy,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against the growing hardness in his jeans. The pressure made you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body pressed into his. You shifted, grinding against him just enough to draw a strangled sound from his throat. His head fell against your shoulder, his breath hot against your neck. “You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, his voice tinged with both amusement and desperation. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your lips brushing against his ear. “I thought you could handle me.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes filled with so much heat it sent shivers down your spine. “I can,” he said, his tone dripping with confidence. “But you’re making it real hard to be a gentleman right now.” You smiled, your hands sliding down his chest and resting on the waistband of his jeans.

“Who said I wanted you to be a gentleman?” His resolve snapped. In one fluid motion, he had you pressed even harder against the wall, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss as his hands roamed lower. His fingers skimmed over the waistband of your panties, teasing the edge as if testing your patience. “Max,” you whispered, your voice heavy with need. “Please.” That was all he needed. His fingers slipped beneath the lace, exploring your warmth as his lips returned to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you shudder. His movements were deliberate, his touch skilled as he drew soft moans from you, each sound sending a jolt of electricity straight to his core. The intensity between you was overwhelming, the small dressing room feeling like it might combust from the heat of it all. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, your hands gripping him tightly as he worked you to the edge. And just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, he pulled back, his breathing ragged as he rested his forehead against yours.

“We should stop,” he said, though his voice betrayed how much he didn’t want to. You shook your head, your lips brushing against his. “Not yet.” His lips curled into a small, almost smug smile before he kissed you again, his hands sliding up your thighs as the tension built between you once more. Max’s smile turned into something more devilish as he leaned in again, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, supporting you as his body pressed even closer. The way you moved against him, desperate and wanting, only spurred him on further. “God, you’re perfect,” he muttered against your lips, his voice raw and breathless. He made quick work of sliding your panties down, letting them drop to the floor as his fingers teased along your heat. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as his touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much to bear, as though he was worshiping every inch of you with his hands and mouth.

“Max,” you whimpered, your head falling back against the wall. “Please… I need you.” Those words were his undoing. With one hand, he quickly unfastened his jeans, letting them fall just enough. He reached into his back pocket, fumbling for a condom he must’ve carried by habit, and with trembling fingers, he slid it on. His other hand steadied your hips, holding you firmly in place. He met your gaze, his eyes searching yours for confirmation one last time. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice softer now, laced with a tenderness that made your chest ache. You nodded, your hands cupping his face as you pulled him into another kiss. “I’ve never been more sure.” With a low groan, he pushed into you slowly, the stretch sending a shiver through your entire body. Your breath caught as he filled you, your legs tightening around him instinctively. He stilled for a moment, his forehead pressed against yours as he let you adjust, the intimacy of the moment making your heart race even faster.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle despite the tension in his body. “Better than okay,” you whispered, your lips brushing his. “Move.” That was all he needed. He began to move, his rhythm slow and deliberate at first, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through you. Your moans filled the small room, mixing with his low grunts as he picked up the pace, his hips rolling against yours with a precision that left you breathless. The intensity between you built with every movement, every whispered name and broken moan. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, his lips finding your neck once more as he murmured praises against your skin. “God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice rough and ragged. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” His confession sent a new wave of heat through you, your nails raking down his back as you clung to him. “Me too,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “You have no idea.” Your words seemed to ignite something in him. His movements grew more urgent, his thrusts deeper as he pushed you closer to the edge.

You could feel the tension building in your core, your body tightening around him as you reached for that release. “Max,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “I’m—” “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice filled with both determination and adoration. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.” His words sent you tumbling over the edge, your body arching against his as waves of pleasure crashed through you. Your cry of release was muffled by his lips as he kissed you deeply, his own movements becoming erratic as he chased his climax. With a low groan, he followed you over the edge, his grip on you tightening as he buried himself inside you one last time. For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, tangled together in the quiet aftermath. Your breathing was heavy, your bodies pressed tightly together as the reality of what just happened began to sink in. Max was the first to break the silence, his voice soft and full of emotion. “You’re… incredible,” he said, his forehead resting against yours.

“I don’t know how I got this lucky.” You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “I think I’m the lucky one.” He kissed you again, slower this time, the passion giving way to something softer, something deeper. “You’re stuck with me now, you know that?” he teased, his grin returning as he gently helped you adjust your robe. “Good,” you replied, your smile matching his. “Because I’m not letting you go.” Max helped you gather yourself, ensuring you were comfortable before leaving the dressing room together. The teasing you both endured from the guys was relentless, but neither of you cared. The smiles on your faces told the story better than words ever could.

[orofeaiel]

Training for backpacking!

[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~"

[hpowellsmith]

Books of 2024

Here are the books I've read this year; favourites are bolded.

Currently I'm partway through First Class Murder by Robin Stevens, A Blackened Mirror by Jo Graham, and The Grace of Sorcerers by Maria Ying.

January

Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail - Cheryl Strayed (reread)

Dancing on Eggshells: Kitchen, Ballroom, & The Messy Inbetween - John Whaite

Maw - Jude Ellison S. Doyle

The Easternmost Sky - Juliet Blaxland

The Lives of Christopher Chant - Diana Wynne Jones (reread)

Mexican Gothic - Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Toto the Ninja Cat and the Legend of the Wildcat - Dermot O'Leary

Untamed Shore - Silvia Moreno-Garcia

February

Regeneration - Pat Barker (reread)

Jojo: Finally Home - Johannes Radebe

The Neighbors - Jude Doyle

Chewing the Fat: Tasting Notes from a Greedy Life - Jay Rayner

Spear - Nicola Griffith

March

Brute (ed. Steve Berman)

Love Kills Twice - Rien Gray

The Salt Path - Raynor Winn

The Eye in the Door - Pat Barker (reread)

Love Bleeds Deep - Rien Gray

Love Burns Bright - Rien Gray

A Love So Dark - Rien Gray

Valerin the Fair - Rien Gray

April

The Wild Silence - Raynor Winn

A Strip of Velvet - Rien Gray

Martis the Brazen - Rien Gray

Seure the Tempered - Rien Gray

May

The Woods All Black - Lee Mandelo

Hild - Nicola Griffith

June

Manhunt - Gretchen Felker-Martin

Perfumes: the A-Z Guide - Luca Turin, Tania Sanchez

A Guest in the House - Emily Carroll

July

Saturnalia - Stephanie Feldman

Nothing But Blackened Teeth - Cassandra Khaw

Vivi Conway and the Haunted Quest - Lizzie Huxley-Jones

Nevada - Imogen Binnie

Gender Failure - Ivan E Coyote and Rae Spoon

Boys Weekend - Mattie Lubchansky

Small Beauty - jia qing wilson-yang

Cuckoo - Gretchen Felker-Martin

Darryl - Jackie Ess

August

Henry Henry - Allen Bratton

Landlines - Raynor Winn

October

The Scales of Seduction - Rien Gray

November

The Devil Thinks I'm Pretty - Charlene Elsby

Murder Most Unladylike - Robin Stevens (reread)

December

Arsenic for Tea - Robin Stevens (reread)

From the Belly - Emmett Nahil

Mouth to Mouth to Mouth - wilt

[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.

[nicsalazar]

Helping Paw || Felix & Nicole

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Somewhere in Gatlin Fields PARTIES: @recoveringdreamer & @nicsalazar SUMMARY: Amidst the chaos, Nicole finds Felix's jaguar. WARNINGS: Mentions of parental and sibling death.

The columns of fire and smoke rose above tree canopies, tinting the sky with the bright shade of destruction. Preview of what Nicole was to encounter when she reached her destination: An avoidable tragedy, she could only assume. Most times, this was the case. 

When she received the message, Nicole couldn’t stay home. Not while others lost everything. She knew what that felt like all too well. Perhaps, it was why adrenaline ran in her veins as she grabbed her keys and rushed out the door. This time she didn’t have to run, this time she was brave enough to help. Some of her training would have to come in handy, no? 

Her knuckles turned white over the wheel, attempting to maneuver her pickup truck with both speed and caution. Too aware of the wildlife that must be scattered around due to the emergency. With scarce details about the magnitude of the event, it was impossible to know the consequences it could have in the surrounding areas.

She parked where she could find, too far away to get a glimpse of the state of the farm, but picking up on the sirens blaring in the distance. First responders, surely. Or reinforcement, depending on how unrelenting the flames were. Nicole wasn’t an optimist, experience suggested everything but a happy ending for the people who were caught in the fire. 

Nicole trudged through the forest, following the trail of the smoky scent burning her nose, the protective scarf she wore over her face didn't do much. Amidst the chaos, a yowl broke the blaring of distant sirens. At the time, with her senses on high alert, she had no time to pick up on the familiarity. Assumptions were quickly made; Some type of wildcat was running from danger. Nicole froze, reconsidering her path. She knew better than to face a scared feline in her human form. But she could take a detour to the detour she was already taking. Though she couldn’t pinpoint where the sounds were coming from. Between the animal sounds, the sirens, and something else Nicole registered as human screams, she became disoriented. 

—

It had been almost enjoyable, at first. The jaguar was rarely allowed to roam free, especially outside of the strange, uncomfortable building that Felix often trapped them inside, the one filled with little more than violence and pain. The jaguar had enjoyed stretching his legs, enjoyed sinking his teeth into things either not capable of or unwilling to cause damage to him in return. But as the fire raged and the sound of something shrill and unfamiliar filled the air, the feeling of freedom was quickly replaced by an old panic and an instinct to run. 

And so that was what the jaguar did. He turned on his heel, taking off towards the woods, towards the familiarity of the trees. He could find a place to regroup, find a way to get far from all the danger this town had to offer. It hadn’t worked in the past, but perhaps now whatever it was that held him here would disappear. Perhaps now, he’d be allowed his freedom. 

Dirt kicked up behind him as he sprinted away, feeling more and more at ease the further into the trees he retreated. He slowed a little, not quite to a trot but to something below a run. It was difficult to pick up on individual scents; the overwhelming aroma of smoke was overpowering on his sharp senses. He needed to get away from that, too. But… there was something familiar beneath it. Faint, almost hidden, but undeniably present all the same.

Jaguar. 

Not just that, but a jaguar he recognized. The woman, the one he’d met in the woods with the insects. Was she at the farm, too? The jaguar let out a low, uncertain yowl — either a warning or a greeting, depending on who might have been listening.

—

Fuck. She expected the smoke, the flames, the sirens— The echoes of distress too, but adding a feral cat was more than her ears could handle. Logically, Nicole knew how imperative it was to tune out the array of noises attacking her eardrums if she wanted to be able to locate a wild animal ambling around the forest searching for its next meal. In reality, it was a lot fucking harder said than done. She pressed herself against the biggest tree she could find, taking advantage of the low visibility the smoke created to hide herself from what she assumed was a predator. Because she wasn’t the only one being ambushed by stimuli left and right. The sirens became a distant ringing, but the new problem was the blood pounding in her ears. She held her breath, trying to get out of her head, listening for footsteps or the sweep of the animals against the underbrush a snapping twig. Nothing was more unnerving than understanding something was on the prowl without knowing where. 

The spirit within lent a hand. The muscles in her eyes twitched, and Nicole was suddenly capable of taking on the night with supernatural clarity. Thanks, she thought briefly, unsure if that sort of communication worked at all. She looked behind the tree in search of the yowling beast. Amber eyes landed on a shadow, and a familiar cold struck her chest, shutting down the wave of panic oscillating in her chest. The jaguar. Her jaguar. Nicole froze, waiting for a second sign. What did it want? She wasn’t in a situation where she needed to be bailed out yet, she knew her limits. She could handle this. “I got it,” she grunted in annoyance. It probably wasn’t a good excuse to the jaguar, she doubted it was satisfied, but it was hard to sound anything but overwhelmed with the smoke drifting close to the trees, rendering her scarf pointless. 

The inner struggle with the spirit prevented her from focusing on the shadow that brought up her initial reaction. It was there, enveloped in a mist different from the smoke. A second jaguar. Two sets of amber eyes stared at each other and the shoe dropped. It was hard to get any hint of his scent, but… could it be—  “Felix?” She tried, voice muffled. Maybe it was better for her if the jaguar didn’t hear her, though the staring made it obvious that he spotted her as well. She regretted making her presence known. Wasn’t the time to have a conversation with either a hungry jaguar or a scared jaguar. But why was Felix in the woods? Was he hurt? She looked up to the orange sky. Was he involved in the fire? They could be injured— She peeled herself away from the tree and did another stupid, yet brave thing. She faced the jaguar, raising her hands slowly. Cold wrapped around her ribcage again, squeezing air out of her lungs. But this time Nicole understood. Should it become a necessity, the jaguar was ready to come out. No second guessing, they were in agreement.  

—

She said Felix’s name, and the jaguar yowled again, a quiet confirmation. His heart was pounding in his chest, anger and fear forming a dangerous cocktail deep within the belly of the beast. He was… uneasy with the events back at the farm, uncertain what to do now that he was away from them. Certainly, the people there had been a danger to Felix. The jaguar wasn’t sure if they still were. He didn’t know if they were a danger to this other jaguar, either, though he wasn’t sure that that was a thing that concerned him much. If she wanted to run into danger, he didn’t think he’d stop her. But she seemed more interested in him, for the moment.

Cautiously, the jaguar circled her. His eyes scanned the trees around them for threats, searching for anything he might need to dispatch. No one had followed him as he’d fled; he liked to believe it was because they feared them, as they ought to, but perhaps it was a simpler thing. Most people remaining had been wholly concerned with getting themselves free and away from danger. The jaguar wasn’t sure how many were left. He wondered if there was some way to communicate this to the woman before him, to warn her that she’d be walking towards a graveyard if she left here. 

Still seeming uncertain, the animal sat on his haunches, tail curling around his legs as he stared at the woman. Were she human, he would have attacked already, would have torn limb from torso just to see the marvelous explosion of blood as the flesh separated. But the jaguar had been raised among others like himself. He’d played with other cubs at the feet of their mother, protected his siblings when the world stormed the gates of their fortress. Jaguars were solitary creatures, but this one felt some kinship towards others like himself. He wouldn’t attack this balam unless she gave him some reason to do so.

Tilting his head ever so slightly to one side, the jaguar yowled again. Communicating with humans was a difficult plight. The jaguar had never much cared for it.

—

She never liked cats very much. It was somewhat—no, fully ironic, Nicole was aware, given her lineage. But it was no competition, when it came to animals for her: Dogs were vastly superior creatures. Nacho was easy to understand, it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that sometimes, it felt like he understood the world he lived in better than she did. But she was certain, even if she didn’t have the best dog in the world, her feelings on the matter would remain unchanged. Cats, in comparison, were too temperamental for her liking. She appreciated their need for boundaries, but that was it. They were incompatible in every other possible aspect. 

She could never communicate with a cat the way she did with Nacho. Least of all, the balam spirit she carried within. Of course, her shitty luck would have her in the middle of the forest, trying to reach an understanding not with one, but with two at the same time, when everything around them burned to a crisp. She should’ve walked toward the first responders. But she had no time to beat herself up for it when the ground crunched beneath as the jaguar stepped closer. 

The spirit pulsed near her heart, while Nicole didn’t take her eyes off the jaguar circling her. Studying her. Fuck. Despite everything she was confident it wouldn’t attack. Balam were already so rare, she knew the other’s spirit wouldn’t want to bring them closer to extinction. Whether Felix would become a threat or not, there was a more pressing issue; She couldn’t communicate with them like this. She shivered, the scorching heat enveloping the forest contrasting with the cold wrapping around her ribcage. The spirit would know what to do.

Okay. She agreed to this. Right. And with the fire out of control and the flames that threatened to jump in their direction at any moment, the jaguar was the quickest way to safety for her too. 

The jaguar. Would it keep its end of the deal? Just to bring both of them to safety? Or would it seize the opportunity to rip away everything from her again once more? Her body tensed in resistance to the shift. It would only lead to a more painful transformation but— Why would she trust it? She didn’t want to lose four years of her life again. And what if the jaguar released control, but she woke up to a sighting in the news tomorrow? It was an emergency, there would be plenty of witnesses that could come in contact with a tailless jaguar. Rescuers searching for people or animals. Onlookers with morbid curiosity. Would it look to be caught? Did it miss the Zoo? So much for no second-guessing. She should have known it was hard to escape one’s nature. 

It was a matter of communication. And how could Nicole, already painfully flawed at communicating with humans, be any luckier with an animal? She couldn’t do this on her own. She had no time to sit down and decide on the most rational solution. All she felt was the blood pounding in her ears and the cold overtaking her torso. If the jaguar got caught, then at least— It— her friend would be safe from this fire. At least she did something brave before the spirit trapped her in its body again.

She undressed fast, shoving what could be shoved into her backpack. Jacket and pants. On the off chance she was able to return and retrieve it. She needed to come up with a system for the jaguar to carry her shit during shift. Another time—if… if she got one. Her amber gaze focused on Felix, reminding herself why this would be worth it. Through the snap of bones, the tear of flesh and the mist of the spirit seeping past the cracks, Nicole’s jaguar lept to the forest ground. A warming roar cut through the night, conveying what the human counterpart couldn’t: Fire encircled most of the ground, south was the path to safety.

—

This was exactly what he’d wanted. In a sense, the jaguar didn’t realize it until she began to undress, until the faint memory of Felix sometimes doing the same before choosing to shift allowed him to understand the purpose of the woman removing the strange, thin layer of not-quite-fur that humans seemed so fond of. He fell back onto his haunches, sitting and allowing his tail to curl around his body. With the pair of him, he thought, they would be far safer than either individual alone. There were still enemies about, still threats not yet vanquished. The two balam would stand a better chance together. The jaguar knew that.

He lacked the understanding to know that this woman might want him to shift back; in his agitated state, the jaguar had yet to even consider relinquishing control back to Felix. Felix had nearly gotten the pair of them killed, had been on the ground with a knife at their throat when the jaguar took over. If left to their own devices, Felix would likely run back into the fire instead of away from it, their desire to help their friends far greater than any sense of self preservation. The jaguar, for his part, was interested only in saving his skin. Wild animals rarely cared for much else.

The familiar sound of bones snapping filled the air, cutting through sounds of screams and sirens and crackling flames. The jaguar got to his feet once more, the yowl he let loose almost a celebratory thing. One jaguar became two in the clearing, and the one that was Felix’s was pleased with the results.

—

The orange of the night sky reflected on the jaguar’s glimmering gaze as it sprang free. The beast surveyed its unfamiliar surroundings, recognizing it wasn’t back in the zoo, as it longed for. Instead, it found itself in the middle of the forest, where nature welcomed the jaguar back. It wasn’t the comfort of its confinement, but the beast came alive as it felt the wind brush against its fur, ruffling orange and black hues. As it sensed the subtle energy thrumming beneath the ground. As it listened for the sound of birds soaring overhead or the shuffling feet of smaller wildlife. The animal was finally where it always belonged.

The air, however, crackled with a new, ominous energy, and the beast's primal drive kicked in. A threat loomed, cutting its appreciation for nature short. Although not a threat with razor sharp teeth and vicious claws. But with a blaring screech that went on forever, unprecedented lung capacity on display. The scent of smoke filled its senses, and the hot temperature against its fur made Nicole’s jaguar snarl. It was a new kind of danger, but one that would be be unsustainable in the long run. It needed to flee again. The jaguar’s head tilted with curiosity, tail low as its sense of imminent danger declined, because amid the daunting scene, there was Felix’s jaguar. The jaguar let out a small chuff, a greeting for an old friend.

His scent was familiar, even with the burnt foliage around them. The jaguar’s human counterpart cared for them. Her fondness for the other spread warm along its ivory belly. It felt also Nicole’s influence, not yet lulled into dormancy. A fight to get back in control stirring inside, searing hot into its sternum. It wasn’t enough to revert the shift. They had an agreement. 

Feral gaze took on the other jaguar, uncertain despite their familiarity. Nicole was a later bloomer. Never managed a full shift until the fateful night her family was ambushed. The Salazars maintained secrecy regarding their true nature, stifling most of their lineage. She couldn’t recall ever coexisting with the other jaguars in her family out in the open. In hindsight it was all precaution to avoid slaughter. In hindsight, she should’ve fucking asked more questions. Nicole’s jaguar sauntered toward Felix’s without fear of being attacked. Both proud beasts by nature, yet unwilling to harm each other. The zoo was a haven when the world threatened both the human and the beast, but it was missing other balams. It was missing the innate connection between spirits. Kindred despite not sharing the same bloodline. Kindred through a millennia of ancient magic.  

A connection that demanded both remained alive. It demanded the spirit to persevere. Nicole’s jaguar urged the other to run along with it, making it a chase, a playful thing. The jaguar never played with another before. But soon the other beast was roped into the scheme. They ran, past the trees and away from flames, smoke and destruction. Muscles rippling in a blur of dapled colors as they bolted toward safety. 

A creek appeared on their way, and the beast descended toward it. The scent of charred wood barely reached its nostrils anymore. It approached the body of water slowly, vying for the other jaguar’s attention. With the run and the high temperatures, they were parched. Nicole’s jaguar observed, ears pinned back for potential threats lurking, then took the initiative and drank from it. 

—

Woman gave way to beast, and Felix’s jaguar felt some strange relief as it happened. He hadn’t the capacity to recognize his own loneliness in the chaos that befell the farm around him, hadn’t understood the complex emotions swirling within him. He liked to believe that such things were remnants of Felix, the human’s mind still lurking somewhere in the back and causing undue complications. The reality wasn’t quite so simple. The jaguar felt fear, felt doubt, felt anger and loneliness the same way his human host did. 

And he felt comfort, too. It was a quiet thing, not nearly as familiar as the rage, but it was soft and warm and he ached for it. He felt comfort in the presence of another balam, felt better with her here and shifted than he had moments before, when he ran through the woods free and terrified. She approached him, and the warmth that washed over him wasn’t dissimilar to what he’d felt with his siblings as a child. This balam had less experience with shifting than Felix’s jaguar, but it didn’t matter much in the moment. What mattered to the jaguar was that he was no longer alone.

She urged him to run, and he did. He chased her just as he had chased his brother and sisters as a cub, the danger of the burning farm behind them a forgotten thing. The flames couldn’t touch them here, the enemies Felix’s jaguar had torn through a faraway thought. The creek stretched out before them, and he approached it for a much needed drink, calm settling over him as he eased the aching caused by the smoke in his throat.

Felix continued to fight for control from within and, as the adrenaline died down, their jaguar had less and less inclination to fight back. The chaos was far behind, and he was safe with an ally now. The desire to maintain control, to run was still there, but it was a flatter thing now. Another day, perhaps, he’d have clung to it more readily. But right now, he felt tired enough to let it go. The shift was a slow one all the same, a fight from both sides even if the jaguar fought with less passion than he normally might have. Bones snapped into a new form, fur disappeared beneath skin, and Felix took the place of the jaguar once more, terror still gripping their throat.

“Thank you,” they murmured to the other jaguar — to Nicole. They glanced back in the direction of the farm, the smoke still billowing into the sky. The jaguar spirit within them seemed to move around, offering a silent warning against going back.

—

Nicole’s jaguar wouldn’t have known tragedy struck a mile away if it hadn’t run from the danger itself. The creek was the picture of peace and quiet, the stark difference allowing the beast to slowly lower its defenses. Its insistent sniffing ceased, its ears relaxed.  It couldn’t hear the blaring monsters anymore. Only the wind rustling the leaves. An owl, crickets. A croak somewhere distant. It was peace like it hadn’t experienced in a decade. Long before the Zoo. The jaguar turned to observe its companion following, mirroring its action and drinking from the creek. After the smoke and the flames, it was a necessity. 

The other jaguar sensed the lack of threat similarly, and as a result, he looked content to step back and allow the human to come to the surface. Nicole’s jaguar retreated, apprehensive, tail whipping in the air again. A snarl tumbling past sharp teeth. Being in the presence of the human wasn’t what it wanted. It was the other animal who shared its nature. The other jaguar who felt the importance of the spirit. 

And if he turned human—

It was time to relinquish control. As a naked figure appeared on the forest floor, Nicole’s jaguar began its internal battle. The creature deemed it too short of an outing. It needed more time. The agreement was unbalanced, why should the human have the final word? But amber eyes set on them, the human friend —Felix— and it knew it would be a battle hard to win. The sounds Felix made meant nothing to the jaguar, but their tone reached deep. The human within, her presence— her will, it was stronger than before. Pulsing along its ribcage, fighting to free herself with purpose. Was she learning better control? That couldn’t be good for its future. For its survival. The jaguar didn’t let fear show. Too proud for it, and thought it would keep the agreement they reached for the night, the spirit wasn’t pleased. It would demand retribution, at the right time. 

The spirit loosened its hold, but Nicole’s mind, however, struggled to rise to the surface. Escaping from the lifeless void of slumber to settle back into reality she was desperate to cling to. It felt out of reach for moments, a pull tried to drag her back, before she finally seized it. She swam toward conscience. 

Her body fell forward, and she heard the splash before she understood what was happening. She scrambled to stop from diving into the water. Panting, she tried sitting up, absorbing the world around her once more. Eyes widened in terror, darting around, desperately seeking confirmation that time hadn’t jumped. That her last memories — the farm, Felix— were recent. She couldn’t— another leap would end her.    

But Felix was there, by her side, their expression resonating with Nicole. The sky behind them bled orange in the distance. They were by her side— so that meant— The jaguar didn’t cage her for long. Her skin erupted in goosebumps. “Felix—” she rasped, lifting her arm, deciding against the comfort she wished to give her friend. Only to beat herself up for the decision a second later. Indecision paralyzed her movements, but her thoughts swarmed her head. What—How—Why? More importantly, Felix next to her, safe from the fire. “Are you hurt? Why were you in the woods?”

—

Nicole began to shift, the sounds of bones snapping and reforming a familiar one. Felix brought their knees to their chest, wrapping an arm around them and settling into a waiting position. Their throat ached, even after the jaguar’s attempt to soothe it with the water from the stream. Their heart was pounding, even miles away from that billowing smoke. And dread pooled in their stomach, swirling and churning at the thought of what they’d left behind. 

What had the jaguar done to get them out of there? They couldn’t help but wonder. The spirit was fiercely protective, but it never seemed to understand the difference between friends and foes. It clung to violence, doled it out so readily with a rage Felix had never been able to match. The man who’d attacked them was likely dead; the idea of the jaguar letting him live was a far-fetched, impossible thing. But what about Daisy? What about Monty, what about Wynne? What about all the other people who’d been at that party? How much blood was in their mouth? How much visceral would they have to scrub from beneath their nails? 

The panic gripped them, a quiet sob rising from their throat. They tried to push it down, tried not to fall apart, but it was a difficult thing to manage. Something bad had happened, and maybe Felix was a part of it. There was blood in their mouth, and they couldn’t blame it on the Grit Pit or on Leo or on anyone besides themself. They hugged their knees tighter, burying their face against them as the sounds of shuffling beside them became a little more human.

She said their name, and they took a shuddering breath, shaking their head. “I don’t…” Were they hurt? They weren’t sure. Everything always felt so raw after a shift; like every nerve ending was exposed to the world. Adrenaline made it all the more difficult to tell, but they didn’t think it mattered. Their well being wasn’t nearly as important as what the jaguar might have done. “There was — We were at a party. We were at a party. It wasn’t — People came, and — There was a fire, and I don’t — I think —” It was hard to get words to work the way they wanted them to. It was a party. A party. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, wasn’t supposed to end like this. A sob wracked Felix’s frame, rising up and trembling in their shoulders.

—

Felix’s face was coated in blood from the jaguar’s preys. The water stream washed away some of it, but Nicole knew what it was like, to wake up tasting somebody’s blood. To be aware that the beast within sated its hunger by taking a life. The guilt of an act she had no part in eased over the years, perhaps she grew numb to it, but there were remnants. The metallic taste in her mouth as she gained consciousness was one example. Felix grappled with it too. And they tried to get the story out despite their frazzled state. Sympathy pulsed in her chest, the spirit stirring faintly.

“Hey, you’re—” fine, she wanted to say. Okay. But Felix wasn’t fine, they weren’t okay. Their words were fragmented by shock and fear. Sorrow heavy between each breath. Something protected Nicole from locking herself away as Felix recalled the facts, but there was— the familiarity of it left her cold. Felix was at a party too, it was supposed to be safe. Who would think of storming a party? Details were missing, but it was clear Felix watched everything go up in flames, they likely sought their loved desperately, they—

She no longer felt the grass prickling on her knees, nor the gentle splash of the creek near. Her eyes locked far away. Trying to reach the past. She was above her, or— behind, separate from herself, watching, incapable of reacting to Felix’s distress. She was back in Vermont, where the plates crashed against the kitchen floor as the first intruder struck, where her mother’s frenzied screams echoed, gutting Nicole better than a hunter’s knife could, where she didn’t reciprocate her father’s last ‘I love you’, where the blade tore her shoulder blade, where her sister’s grasp slip away despite her best efforts. Where the jaguar stole her youth.

The forest disappeared, it stopped existing. Felix disappeared. She was back in the place where she last left her soul. 

In the aftermath, there was no one. Only the vast wilderness and herself. She never found the clues to uncover what transpired that night. She had no one yet many, too, at the same time. Strangers in a hazy gas station in the middle of nowhere. The old woman who offered a roof and a warm meal. A guy who fixed up a pickup truck for her. The curious kid who talked to her tirelessly, until words were finally comfortable in her tongue again after years exiled from her body and mind. 

A sob came from somewhere— from the backyard—no, next to her. Nicole was dragged back to the present. Felix had someone. But a someone who wasn’t doing fucking shit for them. “I’m here,” she whispered tearfully. It didn’t mean much. It felt empty. A dreadful lie, she was never here. Nicole knew Felix would have been better with somebody else by their side. They’d would’ve preferred it, surely. Someone with a comforting touch and nurturing words and— She wasn't that. Fuck, she was so much less than that. Most days she was nothing. An entity with far less presence than the spirit stirring inside her. Not a day went by when Nicole didn’t wish to be someone else. Someone warmer, wiser, anybody but her. But what else could she do?

If things had been different, if her father didn’t sacrifice himself to give her and her siblings a chance, or if she didn’t let that chance go to waste, if her grip on her sister was stronger as the hunters chased them. If they never came to begin with. Then she would be the big sister who wrangled Yadiel and told him to get his shit together. Would've been the person Nayeli came to share her secrets with. The person who would’ve known how to comfort a friend in need without hesitance.

Perhaps there was still time to be some version of that. Slightly mangled by the past, by the jaguar, by her coping skills. With steep disadvantage, but— She shifted her body, sitting by Felix’s side, shoulder to shoulder. “I’m here,” she repeated, spoken like an apology, because Felix deserved a better somebody. She leaned to touch her temple to theirs, her hand resting on their forearm. It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough. Felix was terrified, but they weren’t alone. No one deserved to be. 

She let them sob for a moment, forcing herself not to dive into her memories again. There was enough tragedy in front of her. As Felix’s breath slowed down, Nicole had already thought of a few things to say. “What went down over there… will be on the news. We’ll know—you’ll know what happened to your friends soon.” It wasn’t comfort. Casualties would come. Some of which Felix would have a hand on. But answers too would come, and answers would cushion their fall.

—    

Nicole went quiet and, in a better state, Felix might have recognized the faraway look in her eyes. Everyone in this town seemed to have something haunting them, some quiet tragedy that carved empty spaces into their lives. Most people didn’t talk about it. Felix, for their part, mentioned their own past rarely, and only to people they thought they could trust with it. The details of their mother’s death were locked behind their ribcage like a prison cell, separate from the rest of them so that they could grow into something softer than what that event demanded of them. Their father’s attitude — towards them, towards humanity, towards everything — lived beside it like a cellmate, knocking against the bars with every beat of their heart.

Later, they might wonder if what happened at that farm would be stuffed into the same cage. Could they swallow the smoke and flames that had burned their lungs, could they separate themself from the blood in their mouth? Was it a disservice to do so? They didn’t know how to live with the things that must have happened, the things they must have done, but they weren’t sure it was fair to ignore them, either. What did you owe to the people you’d hurt when you were not yourself? What did Felix owe to whoever’s blood was on their tongue, or to the fighters in the Grit Pit who probably saw a jaguar in their nightmare? Did he owe it to all of them to remember, to let it suffocate him? Or… was it better to move on, to grow from it? 

There didn’t seem to be a good answer. Nor was there an answer to the question of what they now owed to Nicole for finding them, for bringing them back to themself. They might have been better off in their shifted form, without the pressing weight on their chest or the way their lungs couldn’t seem to draw a full breath, but they were glad to be themself in spite of it. The jaguar was stronger, was faster, was better at both eliminating danger and living with the consequences of it, but Felix wanted to be Felix. More than anything in the world, Felix wanted only to be allowed to be themself the way they couldn’t in their father’s house, the way they couldn’t in the Grit Pit. Maybe this heaving, sobbing thing in the woods was the closest they’d come to it in a long time. Maybe there was nothing good about being who you were when who you were was this. 

“I hurt people,” they gasped quietly, trembling with fear or with grief or with both. (Weren’t the two always interchangeable?) “I think I hurt people.” They leaned into her, feeling guilty for the selfishness of it. This wasn’t her weight to carry, but it was too heavy for Felix to lift on their own. And she was here. She was here, and they were afraid enough to allow themself to believe that that was a good thing, that they deserved to have someone here even with blood on their tongue and a fire raging close enough to smell. 

It would be on the news, she told them. They’d know what happened soon. And Felix wondered, with a desperate gulp, if they wanted to. They thought of all the things they might have been better off not knowing, all the questions they didn’t ask after a shift at the Grit Pit because sometimes, ignorance was the closest thing to bliss that they could manage. Soon, they’d have more answers. It felt more like a gallows they were marching towards than any kind of salvation.

“I’m sorry,” they said quietly, unsure if they were apologizing for whatever had happened at the farm or for leaning on her or for making her carry the weight with them or for all of it. For everything, maybe; for what they were, for what they did with it, for the way they knew she understood the feeling. “I’m sorry. I think — I think we should go. I think we should run. I don’t think we should be here anymore.”

—

Her hand barely grazed Felix’s arm, yet it was all Nicole could pay attention to. All her brain decided she needed to focus on. The gesture was uncomfortable, alien for her in spite of how much she was growing to care for Felix. She wasn’t used to it anymore, the jaguar ripped it from her year by year in the wilderness, then in the zoo. Though she didn’t want to take it back either. That felt plain wrong. She had to settle for the all-encompassing anxiety,  remaining still right where Felix needed her. What would it be like, not to question every action, every word, every feeling? She would’ve liked to comfort Felix in a manner that mattered. A manner that helped. Make sure they were supported through it, but it was too big a weight to pick up. 

Felix admitted to hurting people, rather, they believed it happened. Nicole didn’t flinch. She already assumed something along those lines must’ve occurred. When the jaguar was at large, lives were always at risk. They carried a natural predator within, they carried a monster capable of destruction. “Okay—” she replied, awkwardly. Didn’t everybody hurt others? Intentionally or unintentionally. Didn’t she have jaguar kills to answer for as well? She didn’t know if sinking into her own self-hatred would do them any good. She never thought she would be one to defend what they were, when for the longest time she would’ve loved to be rid of the spirit. “I have too. The jaguar— It…it hurts people. Has to. Needs it to survive,” the beast didn’t see it like that, Nicole mused. The jaguar killed and feasted on its prey till its belly was full and there wasn’t rationale in the act. It was the way of nature. And— it was expected of them to understand how important it was for the jaguar to survive. How blessed they were, chosen to carry such a unique spirit. 

Sitting on the grass, one of them sobbing in uncertainty and fear, the other too stunted to comfort them, Nicole was affronted by all the tales she grew up hearing about. They were not special. Only two unlucky people, there was nothing to be proud of. 

Felix didn’t look relieved to hear answers would soon come, and she cursed herself mentally for what she said. They didn’t need the logical answer, they needed—  Perhaps it would be better for both of them if Nicole didn’t speak again. The air was too heavy with grief for her words to cut through it. Felix continued to sob, a trail of tears dampening her hair. All she did was stay there, as promised. Until the apology made her pull away, confusion etched on her features. What were they sorry for? She didn’t have to understand, she only had to listen to their voice, feel the emotion. It used to be so much easier before she was stripped form her humanity. She nodded curtly, accepting their words.

 A shiver ran down her spine as Felix suggested they go. They meant the forest, of course, she was conscious, but she would be lying if Felix wasn’t voicing a desire she felt during her darkest days. And some days after too, when the rays of sun began warming up her skin again. Wasn’t her only talent to run? Why did she stop? “That’s smart,” she rasped, giving Felix another small nod of encouragement. “Fire’s unpredictable,” and they were far from where it ignited, but flames jumped and the wind could twist its path. The forest wasn't as safe for them as she would like it to be. 

Nicole kneeled, gaze sweeping their surroundings. Though the creek offered a much needed stop, they were supposed to face the world again. She rose from the ground, extending her hand for Felix. “Truck should still be— somewhere,” fuck, she was quite proficient at tracking but without knowing the jaguar’s route— “Won’t risk it, though,” if they couldn’t find it, they would— fuck they were naked. Couldn’t ask for a ride. They… the way home would be by foot. Felix could borrow some of her clothes.

—

She’d hurt people, too. Most of their friends had, hadn’t they? Monty, Anita, Wyatt, Teagan… It was so much easier to forgive their crimes than it was for Felix to absolve himself of his own. Lockjaw killed Razor, and Felix told Wyatt that it wasn’t his fault, that the Pit was the one to blame. Monty spoke of his dark past, and Felix assured him that because he was different now, because he was apologetic, none of it mattered. Samir used to talk about how he hurt people during his shifts, and Felix would remind him that the wolf wasn’t him, that there was a difference between himself and the animal inside of him. Teagan bloodied her hands, and Felix helped her clean them with quiet reassurances. Anita felt no remorse for what she did, and Felix thought she must have been right for it.

Those same certainties were absent when they looked inward. They hurt people in the Grit Pit, but the grace they offered Wyatt felt wrong when they tried to apply it to themself because they should have known better, because they signed up for the Pit knowing what it was and were so blinded by their love for Leo that they hadn’t let it stop them. They were sorry for the terrible things they’d done in their past, but sorry didn’t seem like a strong enough word when it fell from their lips. The jaguar wasn’t Felix, but they took the fall for his crimes all the same, wrapped them around their own throat like a noose waiting to tighten and begged the world to hang them for what the beast had done. Their hands were red and stayed red, no matter how they scrubbed beneath their nails. They’d never once felt they were right for the people they’d hurt, even if some of them might have deserved hurting.

Even now, they wanted to push their feelings aside and reassure Nicole, tell her it was okay that she had hurt people despite not believing the same of themself. The jaguar needed to hurt people to survive, but it felt more true of Nicole than it did of Felix. It felt wrong to try and pretend that the things he’d done needed doing. It felt irredeemable to make excuses when they had no idea whose blood was on their tongue. 

So they said nothing at all. They curled in on themself a little tighter, they registered the quiet aches of injuries they hadn’t yet had time to catalog. There was so much blood sticking to their skin; what did it matter if some of it was their own? Wouldn’t it have been better if all of it was? They wished they were still on the farm, and they wished they were anywhere else in the world. Guilt and grief, when it was this heavy, was always a mess of contradiction. 

Nicole spoke of the fire and its unpredictability; Felix had almost forgotten that anything was burning at all. It wasn’t the fire they wanted to flee, but what was inside of it. They couldn’t run from it forever, they knew; sooner or later, whatever had happened during the jaguar’s run would become clearer than they wanted it to be. Sooner or later, they’d know exactly whose blood they tasted on their tongue. And they couldn’t unknow it once it was clear, couldn’t unburn the barn. That had always been the problem, hadn’t it? 

They shifted their position, straightening themself out and swallowing tightly. Even after the water from the stream, everything tasted like blood. Felix thought it probably would for a very long time. “We can walk,” they said quietly, forcing themself painfully to their feet. “I’m okay to walk. I — It would be better, I think.” After all, when they were finished here, all that was waiting for them was the boiler room at the Grit Pit, where they’d be as alone as they’d ever been. Maybe they could be with Nicole for a little while, but not for long. They wouldn’t be permitted to be away from the Pit for long. But… glancing towards the still rising smoke, Felix thought that this might be exactly what they deserved. 

“Come on,” they said quietly, offering Nicole a hand to help her to her feet. The movement pulled at something that the still-raging adrenaline kept them from feeling in its entirety; they figured that was for the best, too. “Let’s — Let’s get out of here. Please.”