#writing wolves

[bebs-art-gallery]

© pet_foolery

[kimiko24]

You're life isn't yours if you always care what others think. // Remember when you wanted what you currently have?

[source]

[mournfulroses]

Clarissa Pinkola Estés, from  “Women who Run with the Wolves,” published in 1992

[bestanimal]

So can we vote for Dire wolves now? (I know they are grey wolf based hybrids including jackle, red wolf, timber wolf, and artic fox dna arcoding to some sources idk how accurate that entire list is so please correct me) but still 😂

Nah, those aren’t Dire Wolves, sorry. 😅

What Colossal Biosciences did was examine some Dire Wolf (Aenocyon dirus) DNA and edited 14 genes of Gray Wolf (Canis lupus) DNA to match it. They even made sure to make the animals white, using a coat coloration gene expressed in Domestic Dogs, because they believe Dire Wolves would have been white (based on no published evidence; Dire Wolves were a temperate species and their coloration was more likely similar to jackals or Dholes).

DNA contains tens of thousands of genes. You can not make 20 changes in only 14 genes and have a whole other species, let alone a whole other genus.

Despite what the company is claiming, Gray Wolves are not the closest relatives of Dire Wolves, which we know from a (peer-reviewed) DNA study done in 2021. They are more close to jackals, African Wild Dogs, and Dholes than they are to wolves. Despite being around the same size, they do not share “99.5%” of the DNA of Gray Wolves; there are hundreds of thousands of genetic differences between the species.

What Romulus, Remus, and Khaleesi are are three Gray Wolves that have been genetically modified to look like pop culture “Dire Wolves” from a TV Show. They do not contain any Dire Wolf DNA and they can not and will not fill the same niche that Dire Wolves did.

Apparently, Colossal is doing legit conservation work alongside their clickbait-y work, and they use the sensationalized concepts to get funding from rich idiots and celebrities. If they can get some Elon-Musk-awesomebro-type to fund their “Dire Wolf de-extinction”, they can use that money to clone critically endangered Red Wolves (Canis rufus) on the side.

Personally, I do not trust them. What they’re doing is shady and irresponsible, and even if it’s bringing in money for conservation it’s still misleading and misinforming the public about how DNA works and about how irreversible extinction actually is. It’s taking money that could be used to save the animals we still have, and instead using it to make a hairy Asian Elephant and claim that it’s a Mammoth.

[ervotica]

twilight request: paul and human reader know each other since childhood and he imprinted on her at this time so its been known that they're "together" but he never officially asked her to be his girlfriend or anything and reader gets really frustrated with that bc she feels like paul and the whole imprinting thing are trapping her and she feels suffocate by him sometimes so tension !!!

distance makes the heart grow fonder

pairing; paul lahote x fem!reader

word count; 1.4k

warnings; hurt/comfort, angst, fluffy ending, paul is a dumb boy but he makes up for it ig

a/n; ahhh i missed writing for twilight! luv my boy paul<333

You're pouting, pressed into the well worn divot in the seat of Emily's couch as you glower at Paul from across the room; the leather almost swallows you whole, suctioning against your bare legs when you shuffle to face him. He huffs when you sigh, corded biceps crossing over his chest.

"What?" He feigns innocence as though you weren't witness to him flirting his way through the party at La Push last night. Something red hot and angry twists at your insides as you recall the memories.

"I'm not your girlfriend."

He breathes a sharp exhale, a brow raising in question.

"No, you're not."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at his dismissal, pushing back the sharp sting at the edges of your vision and instead sinking further into the old leather and picking at a loose thread in your sweater. You can feel his eyes on you when you angle your body away from his, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as it warbles.

"So how come you think you have this stupid claim on me, then? A guy likes me and you threaten to rip his throat out, but you're allowed to flirt with any girl with a pulse?"

A low warning rumble pushes through Paul's chest, a signal that you dutifully ignore. He takes a step towards you, then two and three, until he's looming over your figure.

"Because you are mine," he says, brow pulling tight.

"So I'm yours but you're not mine?" you persist. "I don't think that's fair." Your blood roars in your ears; everything feels too hot, jealousy pouring into your veins like molten lava, thrumming and rushing against your frantic pulse. "I'm done, Paul."

He blinks. Takes another step towards you before you're holding your hand out, pressing the tips of your manicured nails into the dip of his stomach to halt his approach.

"What?" His mouth feels dry, struggling to form words as he stares– just stares, brow pinched, nostrils flaring.

"I- I can't do this. I can't spend my life waiting around for you when you don't care about me."

He crouches, sliding those warm palms up and around your calves, cupping the backs of your knees.

"You think I don't care about you?"

You sniffle, folding your knees up to your chest; Paul moves fluidly with you, thick fingers curled round your limbs as though he's an extension of your own body.

"Not the way I care about you."

Your body betrays you, flushing white-hot as he knuckles at your jaw, the pad of his thumb - calloused from years of fighting and rough play - pushing its way into the soft flesh of your cheek.

A tear slips from your welling waterline and gathers in the crook of his knuckle.

"Baby-"

You bristle, shrugging away his touch as if it will somehow lessen the ache in your chest, the hollow feeling you can't seem to shake. He crawls upward, onto the couch next to you, his spine bowing until he's curled over your shuddering form.

"Don't call me that. You don't mean it."

"Bab-"

"Stop."

He straightens, taut as a bowstring, watching as your back curves and you rake your flushed face against the rough denim of your jeans. You feel his attitude change, soft pity melting to anger, spine stiffening, lips pushing into a hard line that morphs his expression into something you hate.

Because he never directs his anger at you.

Shame - ugly and cruel - licks at your veins, heats your blood almost hot enough to curdle. It scalds your every vein and sours you from the inside out.

You swipe at your swollen eyes with the backs of your fingers, unfolding your limbs until you're standing. Your voice wavers as you speak.

"I'm going home," you croak.

"You can't just leave!" He throws his hands up, standing until you're chest to chest, nose to nose. "We need to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about. You didn't ask to be shackled to me."

"You think that's what you are to me?" he asks, and the cruel bite to his tone is enough to make you cry all over again.

"What am I, then?"

A beat passes. Two. Three. Paul's fingers curl into tight fists at his sides; your eyes sting when you push back the telltale itch at your waterline, and you sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that he means more to you than you do to him.

"I'm going home," you say again, firmer. "It's better this way, Paul. Trust me."

It's always what you've been best at, anyway. Running.

Paul's torn between following you and sinking further into the couch; he opts for the latter, teeth bared in a groan as he curls a fist around a stray cushion, nails almost piercing and tearing the soft fabric.

The engine of your truck sounds far away in his ears as you pull out of the driveway, his chest hollow, the ache growing as you cover more distance.

Away from him.

When you walk through the door, the silence of your apartment is like a strike to the head; the soft whooshing of the washing machine does little to soothe the throbbing in your chest at your imprinters absence.

Not that you're sure he really is yours.

You're quick to strip of the tee and jeans you're sporting, eager to rid yourself of Paul's scent – once a comfort, now it only serves to deepen the aching tremors that wrack your body with white-hot agony.

The quiet lasts two days. Two days of no text messages, no phone calls, not a whisper of his name among the wind. Complete radio silence.

Two days until Paul Lahote is beating down your door with a ferocity that should terrify you.

It only serves to kick up your flaring anger as you wrench the door open, the hinges rattling.

He doesn't give you a second to breathe, surging forward to lock his arms around you like a vice, shoulders shuddering with every laboured breath.

"Paul," you scold, squirming in his grip when he tightens his hold on you, nuzzling his nose against your pulse point. The frantic way in which he clings to you, palms kneading the flesh beneath your t-shirt, is almost primal – as though he's scenting, marking you.

"You know how much it fucking hurts to be away from you?" he grunts, backing you into the wall. You gasp, instinctually threading your fingers through the hairs at his nape as he hungrily grabs at every inch of your skin he can reach. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, scoffing at his words.

As if he has any right to feel this way. As if this isn't his fault.

"You know how much you hurt me..." You take a breath, voice warbling as tears gather at your lash line. "...all the time? You know how much you torture me?"

Paul coos, smoothing a hand over your head. "I know, baby. I know."

You sniffle, and your throat tightens, a silent sob pushing its way from your clenched teeth.

"Hate you," you whimper. "Hate you so much."

Paul groans, pressing his chest to yours. His rumbling cadence seeps right down to your bones.

"I'll swear off it all, princess. No more girls, no more flirting. No more parties. Just me 'nd you, how 'bout that?"

You sigh, eyes wide as you peer curiously up at him. "You don't mean that."

Desperation coats his every word. "Mean every word of it, I promise. Please, these last two days have been hell without you, princess. I don't want to be away from you."

"You're just saying that," you purl. "You'd be unhappy."

Paul's head dips until his lips are ghosting across your cheek, his voice rasping. He kneads circles into the fat of your hip, nudging you closer into his space with every reverent touch.

"I can't breathe without you," he says, voice thick with tears. "I'm miserable. I'll do anything, please."

You sniffle, preening at his touch like a needy kitten. "You wanna be with me? Or you're just sayin' that 'cause I made a fuss about it?"

"Wanna be with you always, baby. I'm yours."

You sob, curling your fingers around the nape of his neck to press wet, smacking kisses to his cheeks. Tears coat your lips as you mouth at him, thumbs rubbing circles over his jaw.

Paul's chest shudders around an exhale.

"I love you."

You laugh wetly; he lifts you up until your legs twine around his waist.

"How about you show me how much you love me, Lahote."

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

inside me there are another two wolves

[zarla-s]

I've been watching my four year old niece lately and it's made me think of the brothers, haha. Her little games are always changing the rules! But the brothers' world is a lot smaller so they have less things they can pretend to be. Man I haven't drawn them in the lab as babies in such a long time. How nostalgic...

[index] [patreon] [comicfury]

[oh-no-its-bird]

Kiba meets the ghosts of the Hatake clan and they tell him to go maul Danzo for him. They wanted Kakashi but he's not dog boy coded enough to see their ghosts (bc of lost clan culture Sakumo never taught him or whatever) so they get Kiba bc he is dog boy coded enough to see them

Does this make sense?? Actually I dont care if it does, I just want to see it

[caninepoetry]

i'm yearning for a feeling that i just can't place.

[mammoth-clangen]

D’you perchance have any thoughts on the morphological (for lack of a better word?) dire wolves that Colossal Biosciences just revealed to the public? 👀

Oh my god Aenocyon, you can't just ask someone why they're white!

"Morphological dire wolf" my ass. Which is coincidentally where Colossal pulled the white coats from…

Give me an example of a modern temperate/grassland predator that's white*, I'll wait. *Excluding white lions, which are an uncommon but resilient morph resulting from leucism.

I based my Aenocyon design off bushdogs and dholes. They are called Masked Wolves in Kindred's setting, because I enjoy a good pseudo hyena niche uvu-b

Extremely extremely long 'thoughts' below the cut lol c':

Preface: in this discussion the term "dire wolf" has too many meanings, as such I will be referring to them as follows:

Thrones' wolves: for the huge, white, fantasy animals from Game Of Thrones GMO wolves: for Romulus, Remus and Khaleesi, Colossal's creations, Canis lupus Aenocyon: for Aenocyon dirus, the true, extinct dire wolf known from fossils across North America

----

Part 1: That's not a dire wolf-

The first question everyone has been asking is "So, are dire wolves de extinct now?" The answer is an emphatic "NO!" from anyone with knowledge of genetics, palaeontology, or taxonomy.

Aenocyon dirus were actually not wolves, nor dogs, but a secret third thing.

They are canids, but last shared a common ancestor with grey wolves and their lineage some ~5.7 million years ago.

For context, this paper suggests a similar divergence time between genus Homo (humans, Neanderthals and co) and Pan (chimps and bonobos); animals that look and behave markedly differently from each other.

The genomes of Canis lupus and Aenocyon dirus being 99.5% similar may sound like a lot, but again, humans share 98.8% with chimps, and 99.7% with Neanderthals, and yet are very distinct from both.

Skeletally, behaviourally, in soft tissue, etc, you could tell any of the three apart; the same goes for Aenocyon and Canis members.

Additionally, Colossal made 20 changes in 14 genes.

The grey wolf genome has 2,447,000,000 base pairs. Does that maths seem a bit off to you?

That's not even enough to change a grey wolf into a domestic dog, let alone an ancient outgroup!

This would be akin to modifying a lion to have bigger teeth and saying you resurrected Smilodon fatalis.

Or editing a Asian Elephant genome so they retain their juvenile hair and calling it a Woolly Mammoth.

It's a bold-faced lie.

Beth Shapiro says "they look and act like dire wolves" but that, too,simply isn't true.

Visually, the GMO wolves simply aren't what Aenocyon would have looked like. It's what a Thrones' wolf looks like.

Hmmmmm, funny about that, seeing George R R Martin helped fund the 'dire wolf project'...

As with many fossil animals, we don't know much about Aenocyon's behaviour.

You can't say the GMO wolves (who are also still pups) act like Aenocyon, because that's based off nothing.

What we do know is Aenocyon were likely pack animals (from the sheer number found in La Brea Tarpits), and crunched more bones than modern wolves (from their many broken teeth).

Also, crucially, they had Wild Sex Lives (from the many, huge, broken and healed bacula... youch).

Colossal is also being colossally shady by: doubling down on their bs use of the outdated "morphological species definition", blatantly misleading the public with their use of the words 'cloning', 'dire wolves', and 'de extinction', and refusing to share their methods in a peer reviewed paper before going public with a clickbait headline.

Do not trust them with your Red wolves either. They're using coyote hybrids and considering what they deem 'close enough' for a dire wolf, I wouldn't put any money on the quality of their GMO red wolves either...

Also can I just say, whatever genes they modified to "make the skull larger" clearly didn't impact the lower jaw...

No, I'm not sorry for this image uvu-b (But for real look at that poor pup and his overbite jfc)

Part 2: -and if it was, that wouldn't be good either.

I fundamentally do not support de extinction.

No, not even for the Thylacine, not even for passenger pigeons, nor the dodo. Even my beloved Homotherium should be left in the past.

This might be an unexpected stance because I am, surprising no one, a big fan of extinct animals, megafauna and otherwise.

But the thing is, I'm an even bigger fan of actual, living animals.

The animal ethics of de extinction are dubious at best.

The surrogate dog mothers of the GMO wolves likely won't live good lives.

I wouldn't be surprised if they were destroyed after being used, because their bodies could contain feto microchimerisms and Colossal absolutely doesn't want their special wolf genome getting out.

I doubt the GMO wolves themselves will live a full life before they outgrow their hearts, like Ligers.

This would likely be the case for any modern animal genetically modified into megafauna; a body not adapted to deal with the increased size.

Purely conjecture, but I also wouldn't be surprised if Romulus, Remus and Khaleesi have vision/hearing issues from their white coats.

White coats in wolves are associated with hearing impairments, so the gene used for these animals was from domestic dogs. Meaning Colossal has created a very expensive wolfdog.

Again, what kind of life are these wolfdogs supposed to live? As awful pets for the rich? In a zoo? Released to pollute wild wolf genomes? (assuming they're fertile; I hope not)

Regardless, it's not looking good if they ever planned to have them be 'wild animals'

Even true clones (which the GMO wolves are not) tend to have health issues.

Celia the Pyrenean Ibex (bucardo) was cloned, but the clone died after 9 minutes from a deformed lung.

So in 2003, this made the bucardo the first species to go extinct twice, yippee?

There's also the problem of genetic diversity.

How many intact genomes do you have on hand?

For dire wolves the answer is Zero!

To my knowledge, we don't have the full genome coded from one individual, just Frankenstein-ed from many. Which is fine for sequencing the canine family tree's relatedness, but not for cloning.

The absolute minimum individuals to survive a genetic bottleneck is said to be 50 in larger species. Called the 50/500 rule, it states that 50 is enough to survive, but 500 is required to prevent genetic drift.

To which I say, good luck!

Even with well preserved permafrost species (such as woolly mammoths), you'll have a hard time finding 500 individuals with prefect genomes.

And then, where will you put them?

If you were to, somehow, make a breeding population, where are they going? A national park? A zoo? Is their old habitat still available to them?

In Aenocyon, the answer is simply "they don't have a niche anymore".

Unlike the Thylacine or Dodo, humans did not directly cause the extinction of Aenocyon dirus. And even if they had, it was 10,000 years ago!

Would making room for a de extinct species impact the habitat/niche of another species?

Regular grey wolves fill Aenocyon's role as a canine mesopredator, with Puma as the apex (alongside bears as an apex omnivore).

With the loss of megafauna to prey on, a de extinct predator would just compete with other, also endangered species.

Animals also change the environment they life in.

Mammoths will clear trees like modern elephants. This would recreate the Mammoth Steppe, but those trees making up the taiga and boreal forests are themselves crucial habitat.

Other species have moved in since the mammoths' extinction. Siberian tigers, lynx, muskoxen, brown bears, elk, moose, and so many others; many endangered.

Trees also prevent erosion, which is already happening at unprecedented rates due to agriculture and deforestation.

Crucially: What's to stop an extinct animal going the same way it went out last time?

Ask yourself this:

Would the average American appreciate "flocks of Passenger pigeons big enough to darken the sky and whiten ground with their guano"?

Would people suddenly be okay with lions in Europe eating their livestock, when they are champing the bit to shoot Iberian wolves again?

Would Tasmanians suddenly feel the same about the Thylacine, when farmers in Australia still happily kill dingoes and eagles for lamb predation? [citation, I am an enviro technician and have had farmers tell me they shoot Wedge-tails, knowing I'm a toothless lion to stop them.]

I doubt it

At what cost?

Are we going to find 50 thylacine genomes?

If so (doubtful), how much will cloning and/or modifying a relative into a thylacine cost? Now that x50?

Wouldn't that money be better spent on quoll reintroduction?

What about finding 50 gestational carriers for mammoths?

Are you going to use their closest relative; the already critically endangered Asian Elephant?

Wouldn't that time and effort on those elephant mothers be better used making more elephants?

And the social cost:

If extinction isn't forever, what's to incentivize lawmakers to fund conservation?

Really, it comes down to this:

Why bring back the dire wolf when we could put this money into protecting the Iberian and Red wolves?

Why bring back the thylacine when their cousin is dying of a transmissible cancer?

We've already seen the impacts of "extinction isn't forever anymore", with those in power already trying to cut funding to conservation, because you can "just bring them back".

But as we've seen time and time again: there is no Planet B. There is no De-Extinction, not really.

Maybe what was gone should stay gone, so we can focus on what we still have.

[zorosdimples]

“i—” yuuji swallows, lips a hair’s breadth from yours, “i’ve never done, uh, this before.” he brushes the seam of your mouth with a calloused thumb. the softness makes him sigh.

your fingers weave through his cropped locks, strands the color of a peony curled within itself, waiting (yet ready) to bloom. his honeyed gaze seeps into your own, slowing time. he’s sweet and eager and afraid; the fear looks foreign as it tugs on his boyish features.

you examine him for a moment, wondering what god you appeased to be lucky enough to lay here with yuuji. “we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, yuu. i’m happy to stay just like this; whatever you want, i want.”

his dark lashes flutter, focus drifting from your lips back up to your eyes. “i want you,” he rasps. “if you’ll have me. if you don’t mind, ah… helping.” his freckled cheeks burn, flushed crimson from the tips of his ears to the neck of his shirt.

“there’s nothing you could ask for that i would say no to,” you chuckle, pressing your forehead against his. he finally graces you with his brilliant smile—the one that rivals the radiance of the sun

“don’t tempt me, now.”

your lips ghost his. “i wouldn’t dream of it.”

[breadandlottery]

[asavt]

Today's warm ups: A little bit of that tag-ramble of the deceit trio living in PV's robes, a scenario related to that with Espresso and Black Sapphire (and Candy Apple), and a little storyboard idea.

[mournfulroses]

Clarissa Pinkola Estés, from  "Women who Run with the Wolves," originally published c. 1992

[steampoweredwerehog]

Attention:

That is all.

[ricketycr1cks]

And if I say Mac grew up equating love to cigarette burns and absent fathers and getting told to toughen up, that Mac doesn’t understand love that isn’t conditional, love without equal parts hate or distaste, that never in his life has Mac understood earnest love, that even though Dennis isn’t trying to, he often ends up re-confirming this idea in Macs head, that love is hatred, that-