#makes me feel like a prey animal fleeing from a predator | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

momodita · 5 months

Text

snapshots. [—millions knives]

TAGS / WARNINGS: trigun stampede verse, no crash au, gender neutral reader, possessive behavior, plant mating cycles (implied aphrodisiac effect), jealousy, implied predator/prey WC: 1,000 NOTE: buff knives save me. save me buff knives.

✗ MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS DNI.

“What do you think of Vash.”

Knives doesn’t ask questions—he makes demands. You’ve barely set the tray with his supper down before he speaks. This side of the ship is out of range of the hull’s lights. He’s facing away from the window, but even his reflection seems to stare. The air is noticeably sweet—almost unbearably so. Like honey.

“Good evening to you, too.” The tease comes first, reflexively. His nose wrinkles, expression testy. He’s confined himself to the ship’s residential sector all day: no wonder he’s extra irritable, you didn’t hear anyone else en route to his room.

“Answer me,” he commands.

You appraise him, pausing. His clothes are loose—as casual as he’ll allow himself. He looks no less ruffled than normal, but his body is poised: the eerily motionless outline of him stark against the midnight stretch of glass.

“We’re friends? I'm sure he would say the same.” You pull words with careful truth. Since childhood, Knives has stuck to Vash like glue. Rarely are they seen apart, except the occasions they fight and when duty pulls them to different sectors.

Vash is companionable and easy to approach; the same cannot be said for his brother. Yet over the years you’ve come to consider Knives somewhat of a close friend as well.

You tell him this—cheerful despite his mood—but he merely stares, expression pinched; unsatisfied. The honeyed air is so thick, you can almost feel the crawl of it in your lungs.

“You’re hiding something,” he insists, agitated. “That’s not all, is it?” He’s losing patience. You’ve no idea what inspired these questions, what he hopes to gain from asking them. Is he perhaps envious of his brother’s wide network of friends? In no lifetime would he care for tips on getting along with people. That’s how he's always been—a far cry from his personable, people-loving brother, but no less intelligent.

Head tilting, your confusion is obvious. “…What’s with the interrogation?” If you’d known he was in the mood to scrutinize, you wouldn’t’ve volunteered to bring his dinner.

“Answer me.” He steps forward, closing the short distance between you. Instinct tells you to flee, but it’s just Knives. He’s just Knives. “I’ve seen the way you look at him. How he dotes on you.”

Vash dotes on everyone. He supplies you snacks during long shifts, he cracks jokes that make you laugh, he listens to your worries, he keeps you company in the wee hours—but he does that with everyone. He’s let you nap in his room a couple times, but it’s closer than yours and you’ve been found dozing off in the kitchens. A bed is better than the floor.

“Knives, are you alright?” He’s got all the movement and concentration of a hunting animal. The kind you’ve seen from archived media. You take an instinctive step back.

He descends upon you like a wall. The years have been kind to his height and build: he closes the distance between you in just three strides. Fear blooms, unbidden and merciless—you think he’s going to hit you. But there’s a bruising pressure around your arm, his grapple like iron as his heaving chest presses against you—into you—forcing a hasty retreat until your heel knocks the door.

The movement pushes air from your lungs, and you realize late—much too late, far too late considering who you’re dealing with—that he is the reason for this sweet aroma. It fills your nose as he aligns your bodies together, all but squishing you into the cold steel.

“Stay,” he hisses. A wide, hot palm pressing into your hip. “Tell me what you think of my brother.” The hairs on your nape stand straight as he speaks against your temple. “All of it.”

(The other crew members had seemed apprehensive. One suggested to wait for Vash so he could do it. But it’d gotten too late. There was no guarantee he’d come back. They’d been apprehensive, but maybe… maybe not for the reason you initially thought.)

“You’re not for him,” he’s saying, sounding almost delirious. “You’ll never be for him.”

“I’m not for anyone!” Alarmed by his strength—his unwillingness to release you, struggling is an easy choice. “Knives, let’s think rationally—”

“I am thinking rationally.” He looses a rough, clipped breath. Nerves splinter a fierce trail down your spine when his face presses into the length of your throat.

“You’re not.” It’s useless to admonish him in this state: he listens to nothing. Not logic, not facts, not even Rem. “Knives, let me—let me get Vash. I’ll get Vash and we can—”

The teeth are a surprise. They scrape up your throat—a ragged breath flickers down your esophagus, fingers jumping up to fist into the material of his shirt. The heat of his body is unrelenting. The saccharine smell is so violently potent. It makes your knees oddly weak.

“You’re mine.”

…What?

You nearly go limp against him—the shock saps you of any fight. He’s acted this way a handful of times before. The memories are finally resurfacing: being easily aggravated, making impossible childish demands. It happens infrequently, but on a schedule. And this syrupy fragrance… you’ve experienced it before in a diluted form: years ago, when Vash had been red-faced and forced to tell you about certain cycles—

“Knives, this smell isn’t—don’t tell me you’re—”

“You came to me willingly,” Knives breathes, rough and low. His markings begin pulsing with light. His mouth is hot and wet as it moves over your rabbiting pulse. Hungry. “You knew.”

Oh. Oh no.

“I came to deliver your food,” you protest, muffled into his chest as his arms tighten, squeezing you against him. He looses something like a growl into the dip of your shoulder, rubbing his face there. “Knives,” you plead.

Distant thundering footsteps approach. His eager fangs are sharp—they threaten to break skin. And you, for all your struggle, cannot muster the coherence to protest.

#millons knives x reader #knives x reader #reader insert #trigun x reader #trigun fic #momodita fic #gender neutral reader #cw possessive behavior #cw predator prey #snapshot fic

271 notes · View notes

alexanderlightweight · 1 year

Note

I am IN LOVE with dragon Alec and snow leopard Magnus 🙈 They are so cuddly and so cute and adorable. I’d love to please see kinda jealous Alec when he meets Chairman….or maybe Alec realising his feelings for Magnus? (sexual or not, I think I saw he was demi somewhere?). Thank you! This mini fic is such a treat <3

i'm glad you love it so much! i also am loving writing it so i'm happy to write more! i love all my verses, mind you, but there is just something about character who can shift into animals that i just love. i also love predator/prey vibes as well so they tie in well together.

also i love exploring the difference in instincts etc.

(i write demi-alec into pretty much anything. it's actually the walls of adoration, claws of desperation. i mentioned he's 'super-demi' in that verse (kind of like i'm always ace but sometimes i'm super-ace - @saeths says this makes sense and agrees that this happens w/me frequently).

but yeah it's probably going to take Magnus to make a move because Alec is like just going to follow his lead and will probably wake up naked and curled up with Magnus at some point - and this will have been happening for weeks at this point - and realize he's incredibly sexually interested in Magnus. before that, he just wanted to have sex cause he enjoyed the intimacy of it and adores Magnus and thinks he's beautiful and likes being as close to him as possible and he also loves being able to help magnus feel good.

Magnus before Alec realizes he's sexually attracted to magnus: sleeping with alexander is amazing

magnus after alec realizes he's sexually attracted to magnus: sleeping with alexander is amazing but neither of us are going to be able to keep this pace

... yeah i started rambling again. oops. (saeth teases me because i wrote 'just one more sentence in one of my ask answers' and then proceeded to write paragraphs more)

but anyways, i hope you enjoy

<3 lumine

ps - ask your ace friends if they know if love game by lady gaga is a sex song. if they say no??? wdym??? they're super ace. -@saeths

It’s the screaming the alerts Magnus to a problem.

Well, the yowling really.

He looks up from his book and over to see if whatever cat fight on his balcony is happening has upset Alexander, except his boy is no longer there.

Magnus snaps the book shut with a scowl, because he’s Magnus Fucking Bane and yet he can’t even corral his own fucking dragon long enough to read a chapter.

If Alexander has once again slipped away to the roof, Magnus will be tempted to destroy the damn thing. Or, more likely, turn his entire loft into a garden so that Alexander won’t ever need to leave wherever Magnus is.

Before he can hunt down his dragon however, he has to deal with the still screaming cats.

Or at least, that is the plan until there is a sudden roar, the kind that makes even Magnus’ spine tingle with the promise of a powerful predator.

Magnus waits for a moment and then he sighs, pinching his nose before he walks around the balcony to the other side, where the cats are.

Or… where the cats should be.

Alexander is sitting, looking smug and caracal sized as he preens, watching the alley below. Magnus steps close and looks over, staring at the ten or so cats fleeing his building.

“Was that really necessary?” Magnus asks, intending it to be a tease and he’s given an affronted, irritated scowl. It’s adorable on Alexander in such a small form but Magnus winces mentally, because apparently it was necessary.

Alexander doesn’t normally look at him so seriously.

“They were encroaching.” Alexander bites out, shifting to human form, his scowl looking even more like a pout as he crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the railing. “Trespassing.”

Magnus would love to point out that Alexander was also originally a trespasser, but since he’s still trying to slowly figure out how to keep Alexander close, he chooses not to.

“They’re stray cats, treasure.” Magnus murmurs, because he’s noticed that Alexander enjoys specific terms of endearment.

Things that reference power, riches, hoards… all the things’ dragons adore.

“They’re vermin.” Alexander sulks, giving Magnus a petulant look, “they’ve been shedding all over you.”

Magnus pauses as he suddenly has a better understanding of the problem and it sends a thrill through him, at the idea that Alexander is jealous of all things.

“You’re absolutely correct,” Magnus snaps his fingers as he speaks, ignoring Alexander’s suddenly skeptical glower. “Absolute vermin, pests.” And then, because he knows exactly how to distract him, he adds, “do you know, darling? I think they might not be here for the milk, perhaps they’re actually after the koi.”

Alexander — who is incredibly protective of the magical fish who provide him snacks — turns back, glaring at the now empty alley below and he’s hissing.

Magnus wasn’t aware the human body was capable of making noises like that and he reminds himself to brew some good tea with honey.

“At least you’d never harm my koi,” Magnus teases, because he adores his little trespassing dragon. Alexander barely hears him, too focused on the street below. Magnus watches him for a minute and then sighs, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Come treasure, back inside.”

Alexander doesn’t turn, even though the soothing tone Magnus uses normally works to coax him. He shakes his head, still glaring with slightly glowing eyes at the street below.

“Alexander—” Magnus purrs as he presses a little closer, pressing the warmth of his body against his boy, “the fire is on. Come with me.”

“I’m staying here, to make sure whatever you did works.” Alexander looks stubbornly apologetic, and Magnus doesn’t even let the doubt bother him, too shocked to care.

“You are not staying out here all night, watching to make sure the cats don’t come back.”

“They’re after the koi, Magnus.” Alexander looks as if he’s ready to turn back into dragon form and go hunt them down and Magnus reminds himself — once again — to never underestimate a dragon’s devotion to their snacks.

“Alexander, they’re not going to come back. I fixed the tear that let them in.” Magnus doesn’t realize he’s said something wrong until Alexander turns, looking absolutely shocked.

“You were purposefully letting them in?” Alexander seems almost betrayed and a little horrified and he’s giving Magnus a look that Magnus isn’t sure he likes.

“You left a hole in your home, in your lairs defenses, on purpose?”

Magnus swallows because he’s very aware right now that Alexander is judging him and it’s not a feeling he finds he enjoys. Normally, the judgment of others slides off of his back, but he finds he feels rather helpless in this moment. Magnus is powerful enough that he doesn’t have to worry about such a little thing, but Alexander is looking at him with something that borders on mistrust.

It’s with a sinking feeling that Magnus remembers how ardently and viciously dragons protect their hoards. To have such an opening, purposefully no less, in the heart of Magnus’ lair must seem like the worst kind of incompetence.

—

Alec is fuming and not only because the little vermin stealing into his hoard’s home have been leaving their disgusting scent about.

Magnus is clearly unaware of how amazing and valuable he is.

If he had any idea, he wouldn’t leave any possible way into his lair, especially not purposefully.

It’s one thing for Alec to slip past Magnus’ amazing, beautiful and intricate wards — he’s traipsed through Idris enough times to bask in Lake Lynn to be assured that he’s never met a ward he can’t cross — but for vermin?

Magnus is leaving himself open to all sorts of danger and he doesn’t even seem to realize it.

You don’t leave treasures up to chance. You protect them, viciously, devotedly, obsessively.

You give your treasures all of yourself to hoard them and you leave nothing to fate.

Alec has seen how well guarded the things Magnus values are.

Out of all the treasures in his house, the one most in danger from such a flaw would be Magnus himself. Which means that Magnus doesn’t value himself the way Alec knows he deserves and should be.

It’s almost heartbreaking and Alec can’t help the soft croon that leaves his throat.

How is he ever going to be able to let Magnus leave his side, when he can’t trust Magnus to protect himself above all else.

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #the taste of his magic #alec lightwood #malec #magnus bane #shadowhunters #shadowhunters au #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets

96 notes · View notes

giacomettislament · 2 years

Note

Could i request rook and leona (separately) with an s/o who has turned into a bunny beastman due to a potion mishap and s/o is going into heat?

the studio i

“wicked play, wicked grin, wicked deed, wicked you.”

rook. leona.

content warning(s): explicit content, breeding mention, predator/prey relationship

—”Oh, mon dieu! What a pretty face you’re making!” Rook coos down at you. You grit your teeth, feeling his fingers prod greedily at your slick walls. You wish the hunter would do anything, anything, other than teasing you open with his fingers, but you know that the only way he would fuck you on his length would be if you were to beg for it. And the thought has definitely crossed your mind; what kind of animal in heat has the dignity to act classy?

His eyes twinkle darkly, and the smile on his face stretches out even further. “Don’t hide yourself from me, mon amour. You want me fully, don’t you? Of course, you do! Look at how badly you want me—patience.”

“I want it! Fuck me- Please, fuck me already! I’m going to lose it if you don’t!” You cry out, bucking your hips against his palm. “Your fingers aren’t enough—I need it. I need it so bad!”

“But look at how beautiful you are!” Rook gasps, feigning innocence. He’s doing everything he can just to edge you. “How many chances will I get to see you like this? After I get my fill, I promise you that I’ll give you whatever you want. I’m a man of my word, oui?”

Plunging your body into ice-cold water wouldn’t even be a close alternative to cooling you down. “I need it now!”

“Oh? Do you need me to ruin you that badly? Do you need me to dominate you, breed you like an animal, and force you into submission?” He chuckles to himself, plunging his fingers even deeper into you. “You ask for a dangerous thing from this huntsman, mon lapin.”

You nod, nearly drooling out the mouth like a dog at the thought of being pressed underneath Rook’s muscled body, unable to do anything while his cock would force itself deeper and deeper into your throbbing hole. The arousal became nearly too much—being fingered wasn’t doing anything for your heat.

“Very well, my beautiful specimen,” he hums. “Don’t blame me for what I’m going to do to you though.”

—It’s in a predator’s nature to hunt, just as much as it is the prey’s instinct to flee. Except you weren’t strong enough: you couldn’t deny the pangs of heat that shot through your crotch and the shudders that reverberated throughout your body whenever anything so much as brushed against your tail and ears.

Leona simply happened to be enough of a wretched gentleman to walk you through the worst part.

“Couldn’t take care of your own self, huh?” He thrusts into you roughly, and even with his pillow stuffed against your face, he can make out the loud squeal that comes from you. Nothing has ever felt as good as his dick is making you feel—stretching your drooling hole just the way it wants to be filled, pounding away at the insatiable heat, making your body sing with how pleasurable everything is.

His hands don’t leave your body for a minute. They’re constantly playing with your nipples or tugging at your bunny-features, each ministration earning him a needy mewl. He’s enjoying this way too much, but with how badly your own lust is choking you up, you’re in no place to complain against the man who’s graciously tending to your heat.

Leona presses down against your stomach, savoring the way he can feel the shape of his cock sliding in and out of you. He could barely get enough of you. You, who was always so distant, so independent, like a beacon of light against the looming darkness, succumbing to something so base as to need to depend on a guy as scummy as him…

“You really are nothing more than a literal dumb bunny,” he purrs, licking his lips. His green eyes flicker to his bedroom door, locked and undisturbed for the two of you. “Only an idiot like you would turn to a lion while they’re a little bunny rabbit. Don’t you worry… I won’t gobble you up just yet…”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #rook hunt #leona kingscholar #x reader #gender neutral reader #lemon

187 notes · View notes

ilikereadingactually · 9 months

Text

After the Forest

After the Forest by Kell Woods

this was a really compelling fairy tale retelling, an exciting read in a very wide and sometimes samey field! it does several things that i really love in this genre: puts the fantastical elements in a real-feeling historical setting (think Naomi Novik's Uprooted and Spinning Silver), and combines a number of distinct fairy tales in interesting ways. we've got Hansel and Gretel here, represented in the traumatic past of protagonist Greta and her brother Hans; we've got some elements of Snow White, and Snow-White & Rose-Red, and maybe Tatterhood, and maybe a bit of The Wolf and the Fox? but they fit together in unexpected and convincing ways, which is fantastic to me. there's a history here, a wider scope than just Greta's post-gingerbread-house life.

and baking! there was baking! and some romance, which is not my thing generally but was charming enough in this case for me to appreciate. overall the story was a little more heteronormative and a little more predictable toward the latter half than i prefer, but i was very charmed by Greta even when she was making bad decisions, and i loved the resolution! also i spent most of the book craving fresh gingerbread more than i have ever craved it in my LIFE.

the deets

how i read it: an e-galley through NetGalley! i am still steadily building up some cred there, which is gratifying.

try this if you: dig underestimated women saving the day, like a villain with a backstory, got way too into the vicious and dangerous versions of fairy tales as a kid, or delight in household witchery, forest witchery, and animal witchery.

a line i really liked: this one's for the furries

Closer and closer it came, until Greta felt its warm breath, and smelled its earthy, animal scent. Her heart crashed against her ribs. Her body screamed at her to run, to get down the mountain and behind the safety of her own door. But she remembered tales from the hunt. Wolves, boars...any predator will attack when its prey flees. It is instinct; a command surging in the blood, nameless and ancient. To run is to die. The bear nosed Greta's sticky-sweet hand, licking the honey away. It was gentle as a lamb. And yet, one strike was all it would take. A single blow with one huge paw to kill her where she stood.

pub date: October 3, 2023!

#books and reading #bookblr #book recs #book reviews #fairy tale retelling #after the forest #kell woods

5 notes · View notes

zaph1337 · 1 year

Text

Monster Hunter Rating 46: Anteka

Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve finally made it to the Second Generation of Monster Hunter! We’ve got all sorts of crazy monsters to talk about, but before we get to the heavy hitters, we’ve gotta give the little guys some time in the spotlight. It’s been a while since I’ve talked about a Small Monster--or a monster that wasn’t based off another, for that matter--but there’s nothing to do but try. Let’s begin our foray into new territory with the Anteka!

(How it appears in the Second Generation)

(How it appears in Monster Hunter Rise)

Appearance: Anteka may look plain on the surface, but they’re actually not so simple; they’re meant to be like reindeer, but have antlers that are similar to that of the musk ox in how close the bases are to each other. The shape and size, however, are completely different from just about anything I’ve ever seen, and might be too heavy for a real animal of the Anteka’s size to manage. I can tell you what their eyes are from, though: thems’ goat eyes. It’s kinda hard to tell since they’re so small on the Rise render, but I can see horizontal pupils. Basically, Anteka are a conglomerate ungulate, which is A) a phrase I don’t think anyone’s ever said before, and B) rather interesting, but not anything extraordinary. 5/10.

Behavior/Lore: As decently-sized herbivores, Anteka serve as a valuable source of food for the predators of their frigid habitats, such as Giaprey and several larger monsters. Perhaps it’s this pressure that makes them rather high-strung; unlike Kelbi, which prefer to flee at the first sign of trouble, Anteka prefer to retaliate against attackers by ramming them with their antlers, which are present on both sexes.

Unfortunately, that’s all that can be said about Anteka behavior. It seems to be the herbivores’ lot in life to be prey and nothing else (well, for the Small Monsters; not a lot will try to eat a Diablos, and probably fewer succeed). Part of me feels like it’s unfair to expect more from Anteka, given that they’re not meant to be as exciting as other monsters, but the other part is telling me to rate these things on how I feel rather than worry all the time about my opinions being wrong. To save myself some stress, I’ll just give Anteka a 3/10.

Abilities: All they can do is charge you. Again, I feel kinda bad about judging them for how little they do, but I need to stop acting like I’ll be judged for what I say here. Since Bullfango does the same thing Anteka do, I’ll give the latter what the former got in this department. 2/10.

Equipment: Like most other Small Monsters, Anteka have no armor based off them. They do, however, have several weapons. Here’s a Long Sword simply called the Anteka Blade:

Sorry for the small image, but hopefully it’s easy enough to see the details here. Basing the sword’s blade off of the shape of Anteka antlers is a neat idea, though I question the Generations Ultimate description claiming that the weapon “trades flashiness for top-tier ease of use.” I can’t see this thing being any easier to use than the standard design for Long Swords, but then again, I’m no swordsman or martial artist. Next is a Heavy Bowgun as it appears in Frontier G Genuine:

If you’re wondering why I don’t show Heavy Bowguns very often, it’s because most of them tend to look pretty samey, only really differing in what monster parts are slapped onto the main body of the gun. That being said, this looks fine, though I question the logistics of putting heavy antlers on the barrel

Now, if you’re thinking these weapons look kinda bland, then I have good news for you: despite the monster being more moose-like than reindeer-like, several Anteka weapons in Frontier G Genuine are Christmas themed, adding a touch of whimsy that I didn’t see coming when I went to grab weapon images. It was tough to choose which one to show here, but I think I wanna go with the Lance:

Sorry that it’s so big, but I shrunk down the image a lot and the website doesn’t think I did, for some reason. Still, there’s a lot to love here: obviously you’ve got a Christmas tree being used as a lance, but the tree has a star on top for extra-thematic stabbing action, and the shield is a wreath with a plush Anteka head (at least, it looks like plush). I also like the bow on the lance’s handle, and the ornaments near its tip. Speaking of the tip, that seems to be where most of the “tree” part is; everything below it looks scaly, as if it were from a dragon.

Funnily enough, it seems that the majority of Anteka weapons are Christmas themed, making the first two I showed outliers. Because of this and the fact that the Christmas weapons don’t seem to be in any mainline games, it’s hard for me to grade this category. I think I feel safest calling this a 6/10.

Final Thoughts and Tally: Honestly, it’s not surprising to me that I feel so lukewarm about Anteka, because they weren’t exactly designed to impress. Obviously the Large Monsters are meant to steal the show in terms of lasting impressions, so it makes sense that the Small Monsters wouldn’t be made to compete with them. They earn brownie points for the Christmas weapons, but otherwise, Anteka are just kinda...there. And that’s all they need, I guess. 4/10.

#Monster Hunter #Monster Hunter rating #zaph1337

4 notes · View notes

notmuchtoconceal · 1 year

Text

Dr. Temple Grandin, author and professor of animal science at Colorado State University -- Dr. Grandin, I'd like to talk about the way horses -- which are very similar to cattle in this respect -- think. Could you give me a little bit of insight on that?

youtube

Well in a prey animal, fear is the dominant emotion. Fear motivates an animal to get away from predators, and an animal like a horse has higher fear than animals like dogs, but there's this tremendous variation, like you have an Arab that can be very smart, very sensitive, easily scared, and then you could have other horses that are a lot lower fear. This gets into training methods, you know, the Curt Pate which is completely low-stress, that's what you need to be doing with the Arab, but you have some kinda other fat, more plugged kinda horse, you may need to be a bit firmer with him.

So one size does not fit all as far as horse training is concerned?

No, but I want to make an emphasis: really rough methods of training I am absolutely totally against.

Now would that be from kind of a ethical or moral standpoint or because it's so counterproductive to a horse's learning?

Well, there --

Or both?

I went down to Chile where they do totally rough training in giant, big spurs and they beat the horses into submission, and if you did that to the more high-strung horses, you wouldn't be able to ride them. But these horses hate people. You go up and you touch em, and the ears back, teeth erect, they wouldn't dare bite, their spirits have been broken, and from an ethical standpoint, I think it's totally wrong. Yeah, they're ridable, but it's just awful.

I would think too, that with that kind of a horse, he'd be looking for the first possible opportunity to get outta Dodge --

Well and then, of course --

He might not be there if you really needed it?

Well that's right. Then of course, genetically they've ended up selecting horses that are, as far as horses go, are really low fear, cause if you take the high-strung horse and you abuse it like that, it's going to be traumatized and ruined and you won't be able to ride it.

Now horses and cattle think differently than we humans do, correct?

Well horses and cattle are more attuned to fleeing. You know, human beings will oftentimes fight than flee and if you take them and you look at them on the African plains, the big heavy animal like the cape buffalo, he's gonna turn and fight while the fine-boned antelopes, they turn and flee.

What I'd like to explore is what's actually going through a horse's mind, they tend to think in terms of pictures and categories?

Well yes, because a horse is going to associate a visual image or a certain sound or a certain feeling with the bad experience -- like if a horse has been abused with a snaffle bit, he's going to panic when he feels that snaffle bit, but if you put a straight bit in, that's a different feeling picture, cause these feeling things are specific, he may be fine. Or he might associate a white saddle pad with no saddle on top with being sacked out in a really rough way, but if you put a saddle on top of the pad, it's fine because that's a different picture than just the naked white pad.

And another example that you've used repeatedly which I find so instructive is the black hat example, a horse that became traumatized to the sight of a black hat, and it wasn't necessarily the correct causal relationship but it was what was real to that horse.

Well yeah, cause a bit at least would have caused the pain where what happened with the black hat was he got abused during a veterinary procedure and he was looking at the black hat. Black hats had nothing to do with it, but the bad guy was wearing a black hat. There was another horse who was beaten up during semen collection and he reared up and went over backwards and was looking at an overhead garage door. Now the garage doors had nothing to do with being beaten up, but when he went up over backwards, that's what he saw and he associated that with the bad treatments, so now you have a horse who's afraid of overhead garage doors.

And the thing I'd like to emphasize is this plays right into the concept that the horse is never wrong, that's just the way this horse's brain is wired, correct?

Well he's -- it's associative thinking and sometimes they make a wrong association. A person has more association cortex and is gonna know, yeah, a garage door didn't cause it, but that's sort of a second order association. A horse is just going to associate it with the thing that he's feeling or hearing or seeing at the time he got abused.

So you've got a situation where he's made a causal connection between something, whether it's right or wrong, let's say the black hat example, how would you go about fixing that?

Well first of all, you gotta figure out what he's afraid of. It might take a while to figure out black hats are the thing he's afraid of. You know, you find out he's fine at home and he's going crazy at the show. You have to figure out your horse made the association with garage doors, if you can figure that out. Sometimes that's hard to figure out, but they tend to make an association with something they were looking at or hearing or feeling right at the time the scary thing happened. Sometimes the association is appropriate, sometimes it's not. The problem we've got with the black hat horse is that fear memory can never be erased, the brain won't let you erase it. What you have to do is when you work on de-sensitizing it, is training him to close the file, but it's still there in his memories, still there like on the computer hard drive, but it can pop back --

You're kind of pushing it deeper into the deeper recesses of the mind, is --

Well you basically kinda close it. It like to think of it as computer file being closed.

That's a great analogy cause we can all relate to that --

But it's still there!

Yeah...

The file is still there. It's not deleted. There is no delete. So when you use operant conditioning or whatever, or de-sensitization, you can close the file, but it's still there, and with a high-strung or sensitive horse, that file's more likely to pop back.

Now do you start layering on positive experiences and positive associations --

Well you can do that, and with some horses you can't totally get rid of it. Maybe now he's bucking every time he sees the black hat really close by. You might get it down to 1 in 25 rides. You can almost fix it. If you get a really high-strung horse, they can get really traumatized, almost like a post-traumatic stress syndrome and a flashback.

Well one thing Dr. Grandin that you've said before is that I think is so important is you kind of have to pick your battles, because not every problem that you have with a horse is really worth the effort or time to try and fix.

Well that's right, let's say the horse is afraid of the snaffle bit, I can just not use a snaffle bit, I can just get rid of that. Now with the black hat horse, I'm gonna have problems with showing him because I can't get rid of all the black hats. Maybe I might wanna try to fix that. Naked white saddle blankets, if he's afraid of that, well I just don't own any naked white saddle blankets --

Yeah.

I can just get that out of his life. But then if you can have behavior of things that are just kind of silly like the horse wants to ride on the left side of the trailer, well go ahead and let it ride on the left side of the trailer, that's not worth fighting, that's not worth having a big blow up over.

Dr. Grandin, is there anything you would like to leave our viewers -- one kind of overriding principle, say -- about how horses think?

Get away from language. They are sensory based thinkers. They think in pictures, they think in feeling, they think in smell, they think in sound. Also -- do not mix up fear and aggression. Most of the bad behavior a horse does during riding or training is gonna be fear based. Now if you have a couple horses on a pasture fighting, yeah that's gonna be aggression, but if you're punishing fear, that tends to make it worse.

Thank you so much for being with us here on The Horse Show.

Oh thank you for having me!

#to get a feeling #good strong stallion

2 notes · View notes

crazypossumman · 2 years

Text

symphony of madness {a short story by r. h. stoker}

Author’s Note: It’s very late. I’m very tired. But I felt the need to write, and this is what I’ve gotten out of it.

Edited: No

Genre: Horror(?)

Summary: Noises in the night draw the narrator to insanity as he approaches his bloody end.

Content Warnings: Blood, gore, violent imagery, guns, etc.

It’s getting worse. The sharp, eerie barks in the night keep me awake. Later and later into the night, I hear them. They always sound close, as if the hungry howls are coming from right outside my windows. I pull back the shades—flashlight drawn—to find nothing but the emptiness of my front yard and the lazy suburban road ahead of it.

What am I scared of, anyway? What reason would coyotes or a pack of wild dogs have to find there way into this part of town? Besides, if they had, it would’ve made the news by now. Not much happens in this town; surely if people’s pets were being picked off by an intruding pack of canines, someone would’ve reported it by now. Someone would’ve spread the word, and search parties would’ve been sent out—rifles in hand—to put down an animals desperate enough for food to cross paths with mankind. It was man that ruled nature, after all—not the other way around.

But I still must ask myself the origin of these sounds. There’s been no new neighbors on the street in years, not a moving van in sight. And had one of these familiar faces acquired an unfamiliar pet, surely I’d have crossed paths with it in the day time. And surely—had a new pet been acquired—there would only be one, maybe two, of them brought in at a time. Surely that could not explain the symphony of barks and howls I hear in the night.

Perhaps it’s all in my head. I’ve thought, at times, that I’m simply going insane. But—and I will swear upon this until my death—I know that the howls are real.

Why else would they occur at the same time—the same very minute!—each night?

Insanity isn’t so precise is that. The very meaning of insanity prohibits it from being so. To be insane is to be without logic, without reason, without clarity. And what is more clear—more logical—than the blatant repetition of this event at the same time each and every night!

I am quite certain, though, that the noises will drive me to insanity. It is the fear they instill in me that is most concerning. I know by all means of logic that, even if there were a pack of hounds at my door at night, I would be safe within my own home. Even if they were there, just outside the window, they wouldn’t have any means to enter, nor would a normal wild animal have any desire to enter. And yet these sounds produce a response in me like no other. The hair over each inch of my body stands on end, and I can feel my skin dance with ice cold terror. Each breath I take becomes ragged, scare, labored. My body is transformed into lead, heavy and immobile. With each passing night, I grow more afraid, more irrational. But what am I to do? The symphony of my madness is unceasing.

Protection, I thought, would make me feel more secure. I haven’t shot a rifle since I was a young child, hunting with a grandfather I now barely remember, but the presence of a gun in the house offered some security. Each night, I sat awake, watching the clock. It was that dreaded minute of that dreaded hour—the very second the clock read 3:33—that the calls would begin. So I would sit, hands gripping the rifle, listening in terror as the howls and yips and barks grew louder each night. Louder. Darker. Hungrier.

It is the feeling of being prey. The rifle in my hands has brought me to this conclusion. The faint memory of animals fleeing after the sharp ring of a gunshot… It was that fear which I was feeling: the fear of prey as a hungry predator announced its presence. But to flee, when cornered as I am, is impossible. The only option is to fight—tooth and claw, mind and bullet—for survival. To out maneuver, out strength, out man, out wit.

Tonight has been the worst. Usually, after a time, they go away. But now, I swear, it has been hours that I have been listening to them. I can hear their paws padding outside the windows and doors, claws clacking gently against the cement as they pace, waiting. I can hear their pants, growls, and barks as they circle, closing in just as the walls close in around me. And now, as the thuds begin, I can feel my heart pounding against my ribs. They want in. What will I do if they get in?

With my rifle in my hands, I find the strength to stand, fear transmuting itself into action. I approach the door, the gun raised to my shoulder and my cheek resting against the stock. My breaths are shaky, but in such a moment of panic, my hands had never been steadier. The thuds grow louder—more vicious, more desperate—as I approach the front door. I know it is coming; it is only a matter of time before I find myself face to face with the creature. Either they would open this door, or I would. These are my only options. This is my only option. Gun drawn, I unlock the door, quickly throwing it open and taking aim with one finger curled over the trigger.

And there, before me, stands a child. Small, petite, and rather fragile looking. The gun is aimed for their forehead, but they seem undaunted, staring with large, doe-like eyes.

The barking ceases. The air is deathly still, silent. My heart pounds deafeningly in my ears.

I demand that the child identify themselves, but they don’t move. They simply stare at the barrel of the gun. I shout at them again, and still, nothing. For a long moment, I struggle to breathe, waiting.

“Thank you, sir,” the child says. When they speak, it is not one voice, but dozens. “We’ve been oh so hungry.”

Fearful, I pull the trigger, but it’s too late. By the time the bullet discharges, the tearing of my flesh has begun, and I’m falling backwards. The bullet shatters the light fixture above me, sending glass showering over my body. Even in the dark, I think to myself that I should be able to see them. After all, I can see the wounds in my flesh opening, the blood pouring out. But, before me, there is nothing. As I scream, the sound doesn’t cover those howls, yips, and barks. I can hear them—no longer the sound of hunters, for the hunt is long over. The sound of devourers as flesh is pulled from bone.

Pinned (Commissions) | Writing Masterlist | Kofi | Etsy

1 note · View note

bogleech · 3 years

Text

LONG POST: (Re)Designing a Solifugid Monster: Step by Step

(Kickstarter crosspost)

Following from my more detailed post about my setting’s human-arthropod hybrids, this was my previous take on the fusion of a human with a Solifugid,or what some people know as a "camel spider." Its design is over sixteen years old now, which I suppose makes it a classic, but all I originally did here was draw a slightly weird camel spider and give it a few humanoid hands. That isn't nearly up to over a decade and a half of my standards evolving, so what we're going to do today is just completely disregard it and reinvent this creature from the ground up, demonstrating every single step I go through to turn a real-world arthropod into a monster design.

FIRST: WHAT ACTUALLY IS EVEN A SOLIFUGID???

(source)

A solifugid is an arachnid sometimes known as a camel spider, sometimes a sun spider, sometimes a "wind scorpion," but isn't really any kind of spider or scorpion. It's actually more related to ticks and mites than anything else!

It's a predator built for extreme speed, both in terms of pursuing and actually eating its prey: not only can it run like lightning, but its chelicerae - the same appendages as a spider's fangs - are built like a pair of gigantic, muscle-packed shears that can shred through a hapless beetle, tarantula or lizard in just seconds.

A solifugid also looks at first like it has ten legs, rather than eight, but the frontmost pair of "legs" are actually its highly elongated palps. These are the same appendages as a scorpion's claws, but the solifugid's palps are covered in sensitive hairs that aid in navigation, and they end in retractable, sticky "suctorial organs" that stick firmly to prey like a chameleon's tongue or a gecko's toes, reeling them straight into that terrifying mouth.

(source)

So the key biological characteristics of a Solifugid are the crushing jaws, impressive running speed, and suction-cup grabbers, all pretty easy and simple to keep in mind, but now what's important to me are its key aesthetic qualities: what do I find most interesting about the way this creature actually looks?

This will be different for everybody, but personally I'm charmed by the animal's big, awkward looking head, the fact that its face is mostly those huge, bulbous mouthparts, and the two absurdly tiny, beady eyes that give an otherwise lethal creature an adorable, timid looking visual personality. Solifugids are as a matter of fact VERY skittish animals, prone to fleeing at the first sign of a larger threat. With all that in mind:

FACE DESIGN

This monster is supposed to be half human, so the first thing I sketch is how I think the head of a Solifugid would look made entirely of human facial features. I already know that isn't what I'm going for, and the horrible Garbage Pail Kid that results is too "creepy," completely losing the original animal's cute streak. Making the chelicerae from teeth and gums, however, was kind of always a given, so I draw some other takes on that, and I like some things about them but not enough that any really stick with me.

So I look at the real creature again, and I actually notice for the first time in my life that when seen from above, the eyes almost protrude beyond the "lip" or "rim" where the chelicerae emerge, and I realize that's been a key part of that cuteness I keep seeing. I just sort of instantly decide to capture this by pulling the "lip" of my monster version up behind its eyes, and it works perfectly! Its eyes now look cute to me! The furrowed rim even gives it a "worried" sort of look, like it's actually cowering within its own jaws. I feel like this is a perfect place to leave the head design just for now, so then we can move on to:

BODY DESIGN

One way I bring out the human aspect in these mashups is by sticking to just four appendages. An obvious route is to keep the sticky grabbers as its arms and hands. This leaves it only two legs, but that just communicates the running speed better than I hoped.

If you remember from earlier though, the suction palps of a camel spider AREN'T legs, but mouth parts attached to the head, and that might be an interesting aspect to consider. Maybe they could even be made of squishy gum flesh, more tentacle-like and emerge from the corners of the monster's jaws?

This would free it up to have four actual legs, which could give it a more arachnid-like stance again...but I find that kind of underwhelming. I like the two-legged runner idea.

A possible solution comes straight from another kind of two-legged predator with a big, giant head and jaws: if we shrink the forelegs down like ancient Carnosauria, we can keep the grabbers as mouthparts, keep it a four-limbed metahuman, and keep it running on just two legs.

I do a few more sketches of this kind of design, and I like something about all of them, but I feel like the head concept still isn't finished. On its own, it still looks just a little too much like the face of "only" a big bug. Where can something "more human" go without interrupting that "perfect" (to me) arrangement of the jaws and eyes? Pretty much only on the rest of the big, round head.

REVISITING THE FACE

After some more miscellaneous doodling I go back to these face sketches, adding pits that resemble a nose hole and eye sockets. At first I think of them as bony, like a skull, but if they're soft and fleshy, the face takes on a more disturbing monster quality that in my opinion still doesn't subtract from the parts I found endearing.

Sketching more heads along these lines, I also consider treating the chelicerae as their own vertebrate skulls, and really want to see how that looks on a completed monster.

So in the next full body sketch, I drop the abdomen and just make the legs a lot larger to balance out the head. Now that the chelicerae are "skulls" with their own "eye sockets," I also try out how it would look if the palps actually emerge from those. It's kind of a neat effect, BUT, now I feel like the design has TOO MANY "weird" factors that just muddle it up.

So I go back through all of these sketches, I pick out the aspects I really find the most appealing - my favorite stance, my favorite jaws, my favorite proportions - and I try to bring those all together for hopefully one last try:

......And everyone will have differing opinions, but for me, this is finally just right! This is the design that reminds me of the real animal in every way I want it to, while looking as much like a freaky, warped humanoid as I also want it to. It looks dangerous and unnatural but it also looks a little shy and uncertain; a chomping, gnashing, bounding, horrible thing to its prey but possibly a big soft coward on the inside. This will most likely be the sketch on which I base its full-color artwork some time in the future, so it now goes in a folder where I keep every satisfactory concept design until they're ready to clean up.

And as a final, extra test of this monster's look, I scribble an extra-simplified cartoon version that demonstrates an entirely different pose. Everything I liked about the design is still evident here, and I even like how its eyes can also be interpreted as buck teeth in its "other" face, which I hadn't considered until now. If you can strip all the fine details from a design and it still doesn’t look like any other you can recall, you should probably keep it! There are some designs I settle on quite a bit faster, even some that I like from the very first sketch, while other designs have gone through several times as many attempts as this one, but there’s always a rationalization I put into every detail, considering both how the creature “works” and the kind of character I want it to convey.

#mortasheen #art #biology #animals #arachnids #camel spider #solifugid #bugs #arthropods #monsters #creature design

756 notes · View notes

thecreaturecodex · 3 years

Text

Forchoreai

“Forest God” © Cosme Lucero, accessed at their ArtStation here

[The planes in D&D have been through several iterations. In 1e, the Neutral Good with Chaotic tendencies plane was called the Happy Hunting Ground, named after something that white people made up and claimed were Native American beliefs (notably, the phrase first appears in James Fenimore Cooper). So it’s for the best that its name changed to the Beastlands in 2e, and that in general its description has been good at avoiding Native American stereotypes. At least since the Planescape days. I haven’t read the 1e Manual of the Planes.

I bring this up because the forchorai, from “Creature Catalog 3″, is a denizen of that plane. Its overall vibe reminds me of the Ceryneian hind and other uncatchable animals from Greek mythology, as well as Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr, the goats that Thor kills, eats and resurrects every day. It appears to be a wholly original creation of Peter Zelinski.]

Forchoreai CR 8 NG Magical Beast This majestic stag stands taller than a man at the shoulder, with pearlescent antlers. It has a calm, benevolent expression.

Agathions are spiritual creatures, but those modeled on carnivorous animals still feel the need to hunt as part of embodying the virtues and values of their type. Celestial animals do eat each other as they roam the wilds of Nirvana, but also turn their attention to greater game. One of these empyreal prey animals are the forchoreai—sacred, magical stags that are born to die and be renewed in the process of the hunt. Each forchoreai is philosophical about its deaths, as it knows that it will return and be all the wiser for the experience. When not being hunted, a forchoreai may act as a guide for mortals traveling through the wilds of Nirvana.

A forchoreai is more interested in fleeing than in fighting, both in order to preserve its life as long as possible but also to pose a worthy challenge for those that would hunt them. They are not slowed by thick vegetation, and often talk to animals and plants in their environment in order to gather intelligence about local hazards and terrain they can use to their advantage. Most forchoreai have a sense of sportsmanship, and only use their magical powers, such as invisibility or mirror image, against similarly magical foes instead of against mere celestial animals. They fight when cornered, or if attacked by a truly evil creature rather than a hungry predator or animal exemplar.

Forchoreai all have antlers, regardless of sex. These antlers are coated in mother-of-pearl and are fantastically beautiful, as well as being functional weapons. When slain, the antlers of the creature remain, and are an art object worth the average treasure value of a CR 8 encounter. If the forchoreai is killed permanently (such as by an evil weapon or in the area of a desecrate spell), the antlers crumble to ash. Some fiends and hags value this material for making cursed versions of healing items, such as potions of poison or periapts of foul rotting.

Forchoreai CR 8 XP 4,800 NG Large magical beast (extraplanar) Init +13; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +23 Defense AC 21, touch 15, flat-footed 21 (-1 size, +5 Dex, +6 natural, +1 dodge) hp 95 (10d10+40); fast healing 2 Fort +11, Ref +12, Will +7 SR 18 (25 vs. divinations) Defensive Abilities freedom of movement, rejuvenation, uncanny dodge Offense Speed 60 ft. Melee gore +14 (4d6+7), 2 hooves +9 (1d6+2) Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft. Special Attacks pearlescent antlers Spell-like Abilities CL 10th, concentration +13 Constant—freedom of movement, nondetection, speak with animals At will—detect snares and pits, speak with plants 3/day—invisibility, mirror image, pass without trace, quickened protection from evil 1/day—heal (DC 19), tree stride Statistics Str 21, Dex 20, Con 19, Int 14, Wis 18, Cha 17 Base Atk +10; CMB +16; CMD 32 (36 vs. trip) Feats Alertness, Dodge, Improved Initiative, Quicken SLA (protection from evil), Run Skills Acrobatics +14 (+26 when jumping), Knowledge (nature) +8, Perception +23, Sense Motive +12, Stealth +20, Survival +12, Swim +12; Racial Modifiers +8 Perception, +8 Stealth Languages Celestial, Common, Elven, Sylvan, speak with animals SQ insightful reactions Ecology Environment any forests and plains (Nirvana) Organization solitary Treasure special (see above) Special Abilities Insightful Reactions (Ex) A forchoreai adds its Wisdom modifier to initiative checks. Pearlescent Antlers (Su) A forchoreai’s gore attack is treated as magic and good for the purposes of overcoming damage reduction. Rejuvenation (Su) A slain forchoreai returns to life without penalty 3 days after it is slain. A forchoreai can only die permanently if slain with evil-aligned weapons, or in the area of a desecrate or unhallow spell.

#forchoreai #dragon magazine #D&D #pathfinder 1e #Manual of the Planes

42 notes · View notes

sanguineness-wings · 3 years

Text

Why are you running?

(read on ao3)

Pairing: Hawks x gn!Reader

Rating: SFW

Warnings: bird traits/instincts

hawks/raptors have this instinct to chase and attack if you turn your back on them, so what if you accidentally trigger it 👀

----------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was dipping low on the horizon, sending amber rays of light between the tightly packed skyscrapers. You shield your eyes from the light as you step out of the convenience store, your groceries in hand. After you take a moment for your eyes to adjust, you note a small crowd gathering just up the sidewalk from you. And from the center of it sprouts a large pair of crimson wings.

It’s a dead giveaway, those wings were plastered everywhere across the city, on billboards, on buses. There’s no escaping Hawks’ image.

As you watch on, the man himself suddenly hovers above his adoring fans, stretching out his impressive wing span leisurely. Leaving you with a perfect view of his wind tossed hair kissed with dying sunlight and a lopsided smile on his lips.

It makes your heart clench as you look on with awe. He’s so effortlessly beautiful it hurts to look at him. It’s also incredibly intimidating. How can those fans just talk to him like it’s nothing. You couldn’t even imagine.

Your staring must have caught his attention as suddenly his gaze turns and locks onto yours. You feel your stomach lurch, frozen with embarrassment. Hawks has the audacity to offer you a softer smile, making your cheeks heat up instantly.

Your brain screams at you to leave now. Your shyness urging you flee the unexpected attention. So you sharply turn your back to the crowd, and the gorgeous Pro Hero, and hurriedly make your escape.

Without consciously knowing why, you take a final glance over your shoulder. Even with Hawks’ signature visor over is eyes, you can see his pupils dilate, nearly completely blown black before constricting to tiny pin pricks in a split second. His smile has fallen from his face, leaving behind a cold blankness. A shiver runs through you and a cold sweat breaks out under your collar.

Your brain unhelpfully supplies, “Haha, I’m in danger!” Adrenaline courses through your veins and you run. A full sprint down the sidewalk in panic. It’s a ridiculous response in hindsight, but you’ve never seen such an inhuman look on Hawks’ face.

You barely make it a few feet before you feel a gust of wind behind you and suddenly your vision is nothing but red. Massive wings envelope you entirely as powerful arms lock around your waist, almost bruising in their strength. You’re dragged to your knees as the body behind you curls over your spine. You feel the prickle of stubble against your neck and jaw, hot puffs of breath against your skin. You’re utterly trapped.

All logical thoughts are thrown out the window with your heart thundering against your ribs. You don’t dare move a muscle.

An indiscernible amount of time passes before you hear a huffed laugh next to your ear, making you shudder.

“Well, isn’t this embarrassing, damn. I’m really sorry about all this. Are you alright?” Hawks says in a tight voice as he slowly releases you from his grip.

You’re shaking as you awkwardly stumble to your feet, Hawks aiding with a gentle, gloved hand on your elbow. When you finally get the courage to glance at his face, your heart does a somersault in your chest. A light blush dusts the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. He has a hand behind his head sheepishly, using the other to steady you on your jelly-like legs.

“I haven’t done something like that since I was a teenager in training,” he admits, bashfulness coloring his voice.

“…and what was that exactly?” You finally find your voice, wincing inwardly at how shaken it sounds.

“Oh you know, like…bird stuff? Well, hawk stuff? Like predator instinct?” Hawks shifts from foot to foot, looking anywhere but you.

“Like...you thought I was prey?”

“No! No, it’s not like that. Well, I mean kind of. But not really? It’s hard to explain. You turned your back and I just…couldn’t help myself. I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you at all?” Seeing this level of uncomfortableness on Hawks was so jarring from how he normally carries himself in the public eye. It was like all of his confidence was parred away.

“I’m okay, really. Just gave me a fright, that’s all.” You’re really trying your best to sound casual, adding a weak laugh to hopefully defuse the tension.

He humors you, offering a half-hearted smile as he stoops down to gather up your groceries that you didn’t notice had spilled across the sidewalk.

"Well, if you’re sure you’re okay, I should be off. A hero’s job never stops.”

And with that he’s gone, taking off into the sky. You stand there dumbly on the sidewalk in shock for a few beats.

You then hear murmuring, whispering, and the click of photos being captured. Horrified, you realize Hawks’ fans were watching everything and recorded every second of it. You curse under your breath as you start rushing home, ignoring the growing crowd behind you. If Hawks wasn’t going to eat you alive, the internet certainly was.

---

Get it together, Hawks. What the hell was that?

The winged hero cursed at himself with gritted teeth and a furrowed brow as he shot across the sky. He shouldn’t have done that. He was trained not to do that. The Commission pushed him hard to ignore the animalistic pull to hunt and another traits they deemed unsightly or dangerous. And he had gotten good at suppressing those instincts. He passed all of their tests and drills after years of intense training. He never had a slip up since starting his Pro career.

His mind was racing as he tried to pin point what made him react like that. Did he let his guard down? Got too comfortable in the moment?

He thought of the way you trembled in his arms, immobilized with fear. The thundering of your panicked heart and the quiver of your voice. A shiver crept down his spine, making his hair and feathers stand on end. He liked it. The thrill of it all lighting up parts of his brain long neglected.

A frustrated growl escaped his lips, lost to the roar of the wind around him. He really shouldn’t be entertaining those thoughts, even for a moment. He felt gross.

He dug his phone from his pocket, sending a text to his PR manager. The least he could do was give them a heads up. Though pictures and videos of the whole incident were probably already circulating. His PR team had their work cut out for them, it was a seriously bad look for the hero.

Almost immediately after he sent the text his phone buzzed angrily with replies from his team and an incoming call from the Commission. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It was going to be a long night.

---

The days following were a nightmarish blur of embarrassment and anxiety. Your brief brush with Hawks was plastered across every social media platform. You couldn’t escape all of the memes and GIFs. You wanted nothing more than to blink from existence.

Most people thought the whole thing was funny, even wishing it was them tackled to the sidewalk by Hawks. Your coworkers teased you mercilessly, constantly asking if you at least got his number afterwards.

There weren’t many, but a few comments filled you with anger. They were using this to fuel for their hatred towards those with heteromorphic quirks. They claimed that this proved they were dangerous, nothing more than animals. Which, of course, was ridiculous.

But you did your best to keep your head down and ignore the notifications on your phone. You kept reassuring yourself that this would all blow over soon. And sure enough by the end of the week the internet was distracted by “leaked” selfies of Hawks in grey sweatpants, posing in front of a bathroom mirror.

---

Hawks had just started an early morning patrol as he glided and weaved through the streets. He’d been taking on extra hours lately, finding it easier to distract himself on the job rather than staring at his bedroom ceiling. Who needed sleep anyway. If he stopped, all he could think about was you. The fear on your face. Your frantic pulse against his skin. Guilt gnawed away at him. He didn’t want to scare you, what type of hero would he be if he did.

Instead of dwelling on the thoughts eating at him, he focused on the streets below him. It was relatively quiet, only a scattering of people going about their lives. He swooped lower, maneuvering between lamp posts just for his own entertainment. He pulled up short abruptly, nearly smacking into one of them.

His heart lurched in his chest, recognizing you immediately as you made your way down the street. He had a little mental battle with himself. Half of him wanted to talk to you, just reassure himself that you were truly okay after all this madness. The other have was telling him to leave you alone, that he’d only made it worse.

After hovering awkwardly for a few moments he made his decision. He made a show of circling ahead of you before landing, trying not to startle you.

---

Having Hawks appear in front of you was the very last thing you expected on your walk to work. You had convinced yourself that you’d never see him again and that, even if your paths crossed, he wouldn’t want to be seen with you.

Yet here he was, with a charming smile on his face and feathers gleaming in the sun.

You approach him cautiously, pulling out your earbuds. “Um, hi?” you start apprehensively, not sure what the hero could possibly want from you.

As you catch up to him he starts walking beside you, joining you on your commute. His wing stretches out behind you and curls around your side. Smart, you think. Even if the two of you catch someone’s eye, you were largely blocked from view.

It’s comfortably warm beneath his wing, with your shoulders brushing against each other as you walk. Your heart speeds up a little, being this close to him is a little overwhelming. Especially with the memory of him being pressed over you still fresh in your mind.

“So, I wanted to start over, if that’s alright with you. I don’t think I gave you the best first impression,” Hawks explains, his eyes fixed ahead.

“Definitely a memorable one,” you quip lightheartedly. You were more mortified by all of the unwanted attention. You knew deep down you were never in any real danger.

Hawks snorts, making you glance at him. You watch him roll his eyes. “Not my best moment. I’m really sorry I scared you so badly. I swear I’m not going to hurt you, or anyone.”

It makes you pause as you stare at the side of his face. “I know you wouldn’t. And you didn’t even leave a mark. We can just say it was a...weird, unexpected hug. Leave it at that.”

Hawks’ gaze catches yours for a brief moment before looking away quickly, a serious look sliding onto his features. “You know that’s not what it was.”

“I know but...I’m not going to judge you for your bird stuff, or whatever it is. You’re still human. Even with the wings. We all have weird, awkward tendencies. I’m a mess of them too, and I don’t even have a Quirk. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.

“So don’t beat yourself up too much,” you say, gaining a bit of confidence the more you speak. “You’re not a monster.”

Silence stretches between the two of you, both lost in thought. You surprise yourself when you are the first to break it.

“Besides, I thought we were starting over. I’m y/n,” you begin, nudging his shoulder with your own as you offer him a warm smile.

“I’m Hawks, but you already knew that. Say, why don’t I treat you to some coffee. There’s this great little cafe not far from here. They have these pastries that are to die for. Trust me, you’ll love it!” The hero chatters away, with you still safely tucked away under his wing.

#hawks #hawks bnha #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #echo writes

460 notes · View notes

eighthdoctor · 3 years

Text

back on my bullshit again in a new fandom: logical consequences of grimm responding to animal fears

(do they? don’t they? whatever, i don’t think the show has given us a good answer yet)

anyway so the thing: non-human animals feel...a lot of emotions. fear is one of the most fundamental, but anger is also in there. i’d expect to see grimm turn up for two main types of interactions: predation and intra-group conflict.

predation is what it sounds like: predators attacking (and kiling and eating) prey. intra-group conflict is when two or more members of the same social group get into a fight.

one at a time:

predation: the predator’s feelings can be pretty easily dispensed with, because they feel excited and focused and happy. not very grimm feelings at all. prey are much more likely to become a grimm target, as they feel afraid and sometimes angry.

a quick evolution recap for y’all: more animals are born than live to reproduce, but this isn’t random. which animals die young is, over large scales, determined by how well adapted they are to their environment--that is, how good they are at both getting food and not getting turned into food. animals which are better at eating and not getting eaten are more likely to have offspring in the future.

or, as the old joke goes: you don’t need to be faster than the bear. you need to be faster than your friend.

so in real life, a cheetah takes off after an antelope, and the following selection pressures are in play:

1. speed. being physically faster will be beneficial to both animals, so we have an arms race where cheetahs are getting faster and faster, and antelope are getting faster and faster, and some day we may hit a land speed record.

2. reaction time. the cheetah initiates this chase, but the antelope will zigzag, and so the closer the cheetah can stick to the antelope’s path--the faster it can respond to its moves--the more likely it will win. meanwhile, the sooner the antelope can react to the cheetah’s initial lunge, the more likely it will get away entirely.

3. stealth. this one goes entirely to the cheetah, and it’s not well suited for it. other cats get closer to their prey before lunging. cheetahs do get close, but they’re simply not built for the stalk (or temperamentally equipped for it either). but for a cheetah who can get that close, their odds of a kill go up.

4. observation. and this is the antelope’s equivalent. if it can spot the cheetah before the lunge, it’s actually very unlikely the cheetah will make a go for it at all.

for the most part, antelope are already at their observation maximum, and cheetah sacrifice stealth for a better reaction time (it has to do with twitchiness: if you’re very very twitchy, you’ll be fabulous at tag but horrible at hide and seek). mostly they’re being pitted in terms of speed and reaction time.

now add grimm.

i’m making the assumption that about half the time, the grimm will attack the predator, and half the time, they’ll attack the prey. (probably more like 1:1:1:1 where the last two options are “both” and “neither” but let’s not complicate this).

for the antelope, well. the antelope never cared very much about what the cheetah was there for.

to zoom out from this particular example, prey animals have two major responses to predators: get away (run faster, hide better) or make the predator go away (horns, size, tough skin, poison, spikes...poison spikes...). some of these strategies will be more useful on grimm than others. grimm aren’t going to be intimidated unless the animal genuinely isn’t angry; grimm won’t necessarily be deterred by going down a burrow or changing skin color.

once a predator-prey duo has attracted grimm, the prey animal has two choices (they always do): fight or flight. they can either outrun the grimm (arguably only because the grimm will focus on the slower predator instead) or kill it.

in the case of the cheetah-antelope example, antelope are most likely to just get faster. grimm are just bigger, scarier cheetahs with better endurance to an antelope, so the antelope population will undergo selection for faster, stronger antelope.

cheetah are similar, actually: when it comes to conflicts with other large predators, cheetah rarely take it to a fight. they’ll walk away from their own kills if another predator turns up because they’re not at all built for physical contact. so in remnant, we’re looking at super fast cheetah and antelope.

however, there are other outcomes.

first, predators are much less likely to develop for pursuit over ambush in the first place. an ambush will very quickly resolve into a kill or the predator walking away to try again later. there will be fear, but it’ll be intense and quickly gone. pursuit predators take minutes to hours (to days) to wear down their prey and catch them, which is much more time for grimm to turn up. so wolves, who are quite happy to chase large prey for miles on end, are going to need to adapt to smaller prey who can be caught faster.

second, prey which have always been more inclined to fight than flee are going to face more intense pressure to be lethal. you don’t need to kill the tiger to get it to give up, but you do need to kill the grimm. so animals like elephants can’t just be big. once a mamma elephant gets scared for her calf, she has to be willing and able to kill about it. (in real life they start and often end with display charges. around grimm? probably not so much)

in comparison to real life, where we do have some generalist prey animals, remnant equivalents are going to be much more extreme. bison often run from wolves as a first response but stand their ground once chosen as the victim; in remnant this sort of mass herd panic would attract grimm pretty quickly. it’d be a much better strategy for bison to stand their ground from the get-go and consistently attack back.

as @mylordshesacactus just argued to me, there also won’t be any large herds. it’s very, very easy to start a panic in massed groups. much harder when there’s only 4 or 5 of you. so that’s interspecific conflict. what about conspecific conflict?

well, unlike with predation, you don’t need to fight members of your same species to survive. [citation needed] most fights between animals of the same species are over a resource, such as food, sleeping spaces--or sex.

i’m going to set aside squabbling over food. nobody wants to get killed for a haunch of meat, so predators have worked out ways to share a kill or scare off others without major conflict (or fear).

instead let’s talk sex.

in species where sex leads to conflicts (some species are monogamous, and others do flybys where no one gets too worked up), you’ve got two major strategies: male competition and female choice.

female choice is where males compete for the attention & sexual availability of a female. males don’t directly interact, and may have things arranged so they’re spread out over a small (or large) area. instead females move around until they find the male who suits their interests. this is particularly common in birds, where males compete to grow the flashiest tail or sing the prettiest song. then they pair off, boink, and incubate eggs.

this isn’t particularly full of negative emotions (it’s...hard to figure out what jealousy looks like in order to study it, so mostly what you’ll see is some amount of frustration) so not terribly interesting to grimm.

male competition is full of anger though.

in ungulates (hoofed animals), males butt heads, kick, bite, bang necks together, and otherwise have a huge fuss over who can assemble the largest harem. these conflicts are painful and violent. watch any david attenborough documentary for examples. while long term, these behaviors are motivated by the eventual access to sex, in the short term, they are driven entirely by emotions.

so we’ve got a herd of horses. (say a small herd, accounting for the first half of this.) there’s one dominant stallion, and a handful of satellite bachelors (zero to four depending on number of mature mares). when the mares come into heat, the dominant stallion is going to spend a lot of time a) stressing about the bachelors or b) running them off. meanwhile the bachelors are going to spend a lot of time a) stressing about the stallion and b) trying to fight him off.

(the mares won’t be too fussed by any of this.)

the longer this goes on, the more likely grimm are to show up.

here’s the problem for the males: it’s to everyone’s advantage for male-male competition to not be deadly. even the top male isn’t going to be top forever, and he’d rather not get killed off on his way out, because if he gets killed off, there goes any chance of sneakily reproducing later. so fights are DRAMATIC, they are HIGH OCTANE, and they very rarely escalate to physical contact. when they do, they even more rarely lead to death.

so while at the same time males need to remain non-lethal against other males, they need to escalate to lethal behavior very quickly when grimm show up. this is a tricky balance to hold when you’re worked up.

now, i admit that grimm are less interested in non-human animal emotions than they are in human/faunus emotions, and that some of these encounters are so brief that the grimm won’t arrive before they’re over. but evolution is a gambling game. it’s about many, many small transactions over years, and so it matters greatly whenever anything slightly increases the risk of a certain behavior.

if male-male competition is slightly more risky, then either a) males need to be better at killing grimm, but not to the point where they’re killing other males or b) there needs to be less anger involved.

it’s very very tricky, speaking as an animal trainer, to retain a behavior while neutralizing the emotion behind it. possible! but tricky. even trickier when there’s no trainer involved. it’s not enough for the fights to become less dangerous, because the grimm care about emotions. the conflicts need to be less intense, and that’s hard.

so instead of less intense conflicts, pivot to more readily lethal horses. (ouch) (sidenote: increasing traits in one sex will often lead to similar changes in the other, especially in species where males and females are largely the same. and it’s not like mares aren’t already interested in kicking the living daylights out of anything that displeases them...)

remnant horses, and many other ungulates, would be more prone to fighting over flight, because that’s a necessary trait during mate competition. since it’s very hard to shift strategies mid-go, males who are already fighting (non-lethally) can more easily turn to killing grimm than running away from them.

so what we’re looking at here is a world where social species live in smaller groups, where fights are more readily lethal but also easier to diffuse, and where predators trend towards patient stalks and short, fast kills.

and that’s without getting into the implications for farming and domesticated animals...

#rwby #animal behavior #whoops i meta'd

148 notes · View notes

miss-smutty · 3 years

Text

Immortal - Chapter 4

Summary- A mysterious pursuer causes Aria and Thor's bond to become bound with blood. Who is he? And why does he keep following her?

Word count- 2.1 k

Pairing- Thor x OC

Warnings- violence

18+only!!

Posted: 6th July 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires

Immortal Masterlist <<<<

"I can help you." Thor pushes back from the gate and slides himself down next to her. "We're similar. And you can not deny the connection we have." He nudged her with his elbow, willing her to look at him just as the sound of footfall echoed down the alley towards them. They both turned their heads at the same time, in the direction of the noise. The footsteps drawing closer.

The footsteps fell silent, stopping in their tracks a couple of meters away from them. Arias ears pricked, trying to pick up any signs of movement. She could hear the sounds of her and Thor's heart beating ridiculously fast, too fast for a human and yet hers still beat the same rhythm as his. She screwed her eyes shut tighter, desperately trying to cut out the thrumming of their own heartbeats and concentrate on what else she could hear. Then she heard it, the heartbeat of someone else, whoever it was, they were definitely human - it was beating much slower and quieter. If only she could get a look at whoever it was and see them deeper, internally scanning them without them even knowing.

Thor looked to Aria knowingly, unspoken words muttered through their eye contact. They had to move to cover, they needed to get to safety but the easiest route, leading them straight into the sights of their enemy, wouldn't be an option.

Thor crouched back on to his heels, ready to move, the stance of a predator ready to pounce until Aria held her arm out against him, holding him back and gesturing with her hand to her ear for him to watch and listen. She closed her eyes again, blocking out as much of the background noise as she could until she heard him again, his feet gently shuffling on the ground as he switched position. Any normal person wouldn't be able to hear the things she could, not even Thor but Aria was far from normal. She pointed to the position of the intruder, letting Thor know where the danger was hiding.

"I could get rid of him with a click of my fingers." He said through gritted teeth, adrenaline coursing through his veins making his skin itch with a need to fight. She could see it like thick tar painting his skin as it travelled down his body, she watched as Thor's face contorted with a desperate need to do something and she realised they weren't completely alike. She was a thinker and he was a doer, unsure of which would actually be better in this current situation she stuck to doing things the way she always had.

"And draw even more attention to us? No, we escape. With our speed, there's no way they will be able to keep up." The thought of seeing Thor in action made her mind drift distractedly, until she got her head back into the game, shaking away her thoughts with a flick of her hair.

"You just admitted you have the same abilities as me." Thor smirked, his calmness was infectious.

She pondered the thought for a moment, realising she did admit that they were similar. She'd always known she was different but admitting it was a big deal and finding someone with almost identical abilities was an even bigger deal for her.

Her eyes were drawn back down the alley, a shiver travelling down her spine when she heard the sound of a gun being loaded, the eyes of a doe locked on to the target of their Hunter. She froze on the spot, her heart rate slowing to almost a stop as she concentrated on staying deadly still, the skills of a hunted animal. A lifetime of being someone's prey she was accustomed with the fight or flight reflex. She usually chose to flee but looking at Thor and seeing the muscles in his neck flexing, his perfect jawline taunt, she knew he would choose to fight.

Aria's wide eyes met with the hunter as he moved into sight, a face she recognised all too well. A face she had seen before many a time, the dark brown soulless eyes of her tormentor stared back at her. The smooth baldness of his head set upon his wide, burly shoulders. The 6'5" stature of pure muscle and brawn crouched behind a dumpster no more than four meters away.

She sighed heavily as she pushed her back against the cold brick wall, a trashcan the only bit of cover they had from the relentless beast who pursued them.

"It's him." Her voice broke, panting loudly as she began to hyperventilate. Memories flashing through her mind after only the slightest moment of eye contact. Worry appeared on Thor's face as he gazed upon Aria's obvious fear, watching her closely as she regained her composure.

"Who is it?" Thor asked, Aria too deep in shock to reply.

She was pretty sure their stalker was an agent but had no idea why he continued to track her down. Her fingers grazed absentmindedly along the scar just above her collarbone as she remembered her last encounter with the monster in the alley. The way she'd barely escaped from his clutch as he'd held a knife to her throat. When she'd used the last of her strength to push him back against the wall, the knife had slipped and gouged a gash deep into her collarbone. The pain summoning more strength within her and she'd bit into his forearm like an hungry animal, tearing a chunk of his flesh as he let go of his hold upon her. Then she'd run as fast as she could, not stopping to turn around until she was far enough away. She hadn't seen him again since then. Until now.

"We need to go. Now." Thor didn't need to ask any more questions, he saw the look in Aria's eye's and moved low against the gate. Resting on one knee and offering an upturned palm for Aria to step on to. She cocked her head to the side, frowning at Thor before scaling the tall gate effortlessly, without his help. Thor took a moment to admire her climbing down the other side of the fence, a look of determination set upon her soft face. The moment cut short when he heard the agent running behind him, closing on them with a pistol in his outstretched arm.

Thor scaled the gate after Aria, joining her on the other side and wasting no time putting as much distance between the agent and themselves as they could. He held tightly to her hand as they ran through the rest of the alley, praying that it wasn't a dead end.

Aria felt the pain before she heard the sound of the pistol reverberating off the walls of the narrow alley. A sharp ache she could feel deep in the bone of her left shoulder, a pain so deep and acute that it took her breath away instantly. She needed to stop to catch her breath but she couldn't, not yet. She pushed through it, trying as hard as she could to get her legs to work the way she wanted them to but all she could think about was the burning pain exploding through her chest.

Thor stopped in his tracks as he felt Aria stumble forwards, her face ash white as she looked up at him with shock in her eyes before falling to the ground, clutching at her shoulder. He could see the hole in her clothes that the bullet had left and the blood that was seeping through and the sight made his anger flare. The ground rumbled around them, dark clouds gathering above them as a smooth breeze brushed through the alley.

He couldn't stop himself, looking at her crumpled body beneath him once again. The very skies trembling in his presence as a storm gathered above them, he barely even looked at the mysterious man behind them as his eyes glowed brightly, his electrical current tingling his fingertips, electrifying his body. He felt it buzz through him, not thinking twice when he reached out and commanded a bolt of lightning to strike the man right where he stood. Throwing him to the ground with force, his body flying backwards and landing against the brick wall leaving him unmoving.

"Aria? Look at me." He gathered her up into his arms carefully, her eyes fluttering open, a smile playing at the corner of her lips as she stared into the eyes of her saviour. She gave in to him, allowed herself to trust him now he had proved himself loyal. "It's ok I've got you, tell me where to go."

Aria didn't have the strength to stop herself falling a little deeper for the man who's arms she was encased in when she muttered, "Take me home, Thor."

**********

Aria's eye's snapped open as she took in her surroundings, a layer of sweat on her forehead as she sat bolt upright in the bed she was laid on, clutching the bandage on her left shoulder. The ache of the bullet wound still there but much less than before.

"You're awake, I've been so worried." Thor's voice came from the chair he had placed by the side of her bed.

"I think I passed out from exhaustion more than anything else, thank you for taking me home." She pulled the bedsheet up to her chin, Thor's presence made her feel slightly nervous in the intimate setting of her own home.

"You just keep on surviving don't you? Twice in one day you could've died yet here you are." Thor sat casually in the deep backed arm chair Aria used to read in, his legs planted apart as he leant back against the chair. Aria couldn't help but take a moment to admire the physique of the God, her eyes trialing up his body until they met with his own unblinking pair of deep blue eyes.

She wasn't only surprising him, she was surprising herself with the way she was opening up to him, allowing him to see the side of her she'd hidden for so long. More than that she was enjoying it, enjoying finally being able to be herself with someone.

Thor moved closer to her, sitting on the side of the bed, enjoying the feel of the unknown force that pulls them together. He reached out to run his fingers down her silky hair, reminding Aria of a part of herself she was still hiding from Thor. A part she still couldn't bring herself to reveal to him, her true identity being her last comfort cushion of safety. She knew deep down that she wouldn't be able to keep it hidden from Thor for much longer, not with the way she was starting to feel about him. The connection had been instant but the deep bond she felt had been created that day, when he'd scooped her up in his arms and taken her away from danger without a second thought.

Aria felt her cheeks flushing as she caught Thor's gaze with her own, the unperishing look of hunger lingered in his eyes.

"Why are you blushing? You weren't embarrassed when I first met you." Thor raised his eyebrow at her with a sly smile making Aria's insides twist and contort.

"That was because I thought I'd never see you again." Her tension eased as she started to feel relaxed within Thor's presence, a heavy feeling of lust hung in the air as their bodies gradually gravitated towards each other.

"While we are on the subject, when do we get to do that again?" His finger followed the curve of her Cupid's bow taking away all her coherent thoughts. Thor found her his weakness, he couldn't resist touching her. Desperate to get his hands on her properly.

"Erm, maybe when people stop trying to kill me." She giggled nervously while Thor licked his lips, looking down before his eyes met with her's again. That deep look of hunger burning more adamantly in his eyes than ever before. Something else flickered within them, something she recognised all too well, a look that was also mirrored in her own eyes the last time she was in the presence of the agent. Anger, deep unforgiving anger.

"I will not allow anyone to hurt you again, not while you're with me." He closed the distance between them, taking her head within his hands. "And Aria, I am not letting you go now I have found you."

"I don't think I want you to." Her lips parted, unable to contain the need any longer. She knew she didn't want him to let her go, she'd waited a lifetime to feel this with someone and now she had it she wasn't about to give it up. She allowed herself to open up to him although the thought of being weak completely terrified her.

31 notes · View notes

ac3id · 4 years

Text

pairings: shigaraki tomura x female reader

warnings: nsfw, dubcon, captivity, yandere shiggs, mention of death, shiggs is a meanie, dumbification if ya squit.

a/n: im so glad someone requested this!! i will litereally never shut up about man also!! shigaraki is beefed up in this cus that man finna get permanent residency in my head

word count. 1557

Imagine: Shigaraki taking the small, cute little pathetic nurse of the hospital he hijacked as his darling.

It takes some time for him to find you tolerable. At first, he absolutely loathes you; you’re always crying over the littlest things, always painting him to be the bad guy and you even refuse to give treatment to his men. And honestly, that pisses him off the most. You’re completely brainwashed by society. What do you mean you won’t help men like ‘him’? Are you that superior? You get to decide what’s right and what’s wrong? Are his men not humans? He hates you. If it weren’t for the situation he had faced himself in, he would have decayed you in the blink of an eye. But now after a failed mission and a lot of casualties on his side, he needed your quirk.

When he kidnaps you, finally, it’s not because he loves you and wants to take care of you. No. It’s because he wants to torture you- literally. He’s so sick of your hot-headedness, so sick of your ideals- how you still think heroes will come to save you from those nefarious villains. Shigaraki wants to break you, show you how pathetic you really are. And so he does.

One day he just gets so tired of your antics, you’re ignoring him- something you find yourself doing very often these days. You isolate yourself from him and everyone. You run to a storage room and hide, your knees pressed to your chest and head held down. You sniffle into your knees, you never wanted this happen. What did I do to this deserve this? When would the heroes come? You chanted to yourself. Deep down, you knew Shigaraki was right but you didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t want to believe that the world was so hollow and even if it was, you’d choose to ignore it. You’d live your life the way you want to and believe in that devil’s words. You’d-

The door slams open, a big angry looking Shigaraki stands in the there, his eyes fuming with murderous intent. He rushes towards and wastes no time in clasping his big, sturdy hands around your petite neck and you pulling you up. He squeezes around it and choking noises fills the room, your hands automatically wrap around his trying to push him off but it’s all in vain. He’s too strong and you’re too dumb. You let out choked pleads, begging him to let you go and that you’ll help him. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you cause he needed you, you believed that he’d-

“If you’re thinking that I won’t kill you right this instant. You are wrong. I will take away your quirk for myself and leave you here to bite the dust. Don’t test me.”

He drops you to the floor, you rub your neck and try to collect yourself. He looks down at you, the way your tremble reminds him of a puppy who’s been kicked. He smiles to himself, he crouches down and grabs the collar of your shirt, pulling you closer to him. “I don’t like being mean to a pretty little thing like you,” he confesses and your eyebrows knit together. Why is he talking to you like this?

“Use your dumb little head, okay? Listen to me.” His hold from your collar disappears and he stands back to his full height hovering over, you looked like an ant under and he looked like monster. You look up at him with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes- he’s the predator and you’re the prey. There’s no denying it. You were stupid for choosing not to submit to him before but now, you know he’s not the one to show mercy. He’s going to give you one chance you better not disappoint him.

You started to obey him after he had threatened you, knowing full well he’d take your quirk and kill you the very next second. You did not want to challenge or anger him. It’s for my own survival, you tell yourself. You help his men, you sit, biting back your urge to hit Dabi as you tend to his wounds while he throws obscene remarks of what he’d do to a girl like you or how you have to stop your self from throwing up as you listen to Toga explain in detail about what she wants to this boy she’s crushing on. It’s hard work. Spinner and Mr. Compress were a little better but considering the fact that they come back to you after murdering innocents. It surely manages to you up at night.

It doesn’t take long for Shigaraki to develop a soft spot for you, he likes this new you. You are submissive, you listen to him. He finally managed to put you in your place.

You did not think about those heroes anymore, did you?

Ridiculously, he finds a friend in you, both of you start talking. You talk about your day with him he tells you about his, you drink together and as much as you shouldn’t; you find yourself enjoying your time with the league.

You come to understand them and you forget that you’re being held, hostage. Call it Stockholm syndrome but you didn’t care. The newfound joy lasts but all things must end.

The calm before the storm: Shigaraki suddenly finds himself falling for you, your shy habits- how you’d twirl your hair when you got nervous or chewed on your lip while concentrating. How your cheeks stained pink in your intoxicated state. He noticed everything, he didn’t want to believe he was falling for but the way butterflies that danced around in his stomach when your finger grazed over his, how his mood turned better when you entered the room. The signs were obvious. He was in love

He thought he’d tell you about his feelings for you before they left the hospital, all his men had recovered wonderfully courtesy to you. You’d flee with him and the both of you would be happy together forever a perfect ending for a new beginning. He confesses his love to you two days before his departure, he tells you how he wants to spend his life with you, how he thinks you’re the one but to his dismay. You don’t feel the same.

It breaks his heart into pieces, he can’t believe what he just heard. You’re kidding, right? You love him the way he loves you. Right?

No? No.

He’s pissed. Needless to say, even though you rejected his proposal, he still takes you along. He locks you in one of the many rooms of the PLF mansion. The only person you can see is him, he spends hours trying to make you understand why you needed him but you don’t budge. It’s like starting all over again. He is kind at the beginning but as days go by and his frustrations increase he just ends up using you like his fuckhole, bending you over whenever he wants and fucking your brains out. Shoving his cock down your throat, leaving you a quivering mess.

If you refuse or hesitate, he’d threaten you. He’ll take away your quirk and chop your legs and arms clean and leave you to rot. He’s done it before (you recall the incident with Overhaul). It leaves you no choice but to listen to him. He wins all the time.

“Faster,” Shigaraki grunts. He has your wrists tied behind your back, his fingers tugging on your nipples, hard grinning at how your face confronts in pain. “Come on, whore. I know you can do better than this” he says staring at how your tiny cunt takes his huge cock. He was mesmerized, the way your walls wrapped around his girth. It was obviously too much for you, you could barely keep. The way your tongue lolled out of your mouth and eyes crosses, it was given.

Unable to form responses you only whined in protest, hoping Shigaraki would take it easy on you but he just laughed. “What are you saying, my dumb little baby?” he asked in a condescending voice. It made you feel pathetic, he treated you like a pet who couldn’t for look after herself. It drove you mad that you couldn’t do anything about it, his hand snakes around your neck holding it firmly you stop moving on his dick. Keeping it settled warmly in your hole he pulls you down, his lips level with your ear. “Do it properly, my love,” you cringe internally at the nickname- a second ago he was calling you a whore. “If you don’t, I’ll take quirk,” your face pales, you couldn’t lose your quirk. It was all you had. “Please...Don’t do that. It’s all I have.” your voice cracks and tears roll to your cheeks, “It’s okay, baby. Just do it again. Be better this time,” he coos his hand patting your back as he restrains himself from thrusting into you, he lets you go and you start rocking your hips again trying to satisfy him, he grips your waist tightly; it would leave marks later.

Shigaraki stares at you sleeping next to him, after a tiring session you were finally getting well deserved rest. You had obeyed him beautifully today, he wondered how long would it take before you realized that; it wasn’t your quirk which was all you had left. It was him.

feedback is greatly appreciated!!

<taglist!!dm us if ya wanna get added or removed !!!>

@mylovelyreblogs @amahzing004 @thoughtfulpandazine2 @the-one-who-ate-god @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love @annimalq @reader-stash @rcjackie @leeladebris @expn @vocaloidinlove @edgycactus @neon-tries-writing @shiggydiggydicked @yandereguysgalsandmonsterpals @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa @chxrryvibes @yanderesmemory @purple-rabanito @amajikistan99 @the-grimm-writer @n4dhii @imkumichan @akura-ous-lady @dabicakes @leeknowstoomuch @nereida19 @sahrafinee @uwubba @anime-girl-nikki @rekoii @badtimechara @peachyashell @weirdr-artiest @prince-zukohere @deliciousstar @murderfesto @mltcp @alunafort @mrsllawliet @supernaturaldreamergirl1130 @hawkgirl27845 @fannegirl @expn @the-official-yeehaw

456 notes · View notes

evolutionsvoid · 3 years

Photo

The arctic lands are already ruthless places, where the cold is unyielding and the wind chills you to the very core. The ice shows no mercy, and the earth offers little for shelter and food. Those who live in these frozen regions are hardened by the elements, as one must be strong to survive the brutal winters. Many beasts exemplify this harsh icy place, but the one that will always come to mind when I think of them is the Barbaratus. It is hard to not think of them, as their booming calls echo across the jagged glaciers, and the bloody remains of their kills splatter the pristine snow. They stalk within the curtains of snow, and strike with the savagery of a winter storm. The Barbaratus is a species of large flightless bird that lives in the northern regions of the world. Be it tundra, frozen forest or the icy coast, they will be there on their never-ending hunt for food. Like Cockatrices, their wings have been reduced to simple arms, having no way to lift their bulky bodies. Since they do not fly, then they are not hampered by its restrictions. Their bodies have grown large and heavy, their bones reinforced and tough. Their hind legs are packed with muscle, allowing them to charge across the land like a speeding carriage. Upon these powerful limbs are monstrous talons that can slice through skin and blubber with ease. Their beaks are massive and are strong as steel, giving them a bite that can crush bone. Plenty of feathers and thick down give them the warmth and protection they need from the brutal elements. All of this makes for an incredible predator that haunts these snowy places, one you never want to meet! While some of these beasts may travel alone, they tend to move in small flocks, with four being the max. These numbers give them an advantage over attackers, and make it easier for them to corner prey. In a land that gives no guarantee for food or shelter, they must be ready to bring down whatever they meet. With such a hefty size and powerful weaponry, it should be obvious how these beasts hunt. They spot prey with their sharp eyes and run them down with their impressive speed. All they need is to hook their victim with their beak, and the fight is pretty much over. The beak is serrated and has a wicked point, once it sinks in it is painful to remove. This will slow prey and allow the Barbaratus to use its thick neck muscles to pull them off their feet. If the snared prey is small, the Barbaratus will grab its head in its mouth and crush their skull. If they are larger, they will reposition their beak so that it wraps around their spine. A savage bite will break their victim's neck or back and leave them paralyzed. From there, they can feast, ripping into flesh with their beaks and talons. Those that travel in flocks tend to target larger prey, as they need more to go around. Those who hunt solo will go after smaller stuff, which means animals that are smaller than human-sized. Even then, they will certainly take on anything they think they have a chance against, be it man or beast. These single birds may also switch up their tactics and try an ambush approach. If they find burrows or breathing holes, they will stand in wait. When a seal or other aquatic creature comes up for a breath, they will snap forward with their maw. The hooked beak will sink in, and the bird will fight to pull their prey out of the water. To get an idea how strong these creatures are, they can totally yank a full-grown seal out from the ice, practically slamming them to the ground. Can you do that with your mouth? Probably not. An interesting thing to note about the Barbaratus is the rumor that they use sound to help hunt their prey. This is said because the call of these birds is extremely loud. The sound of a calving glacier is almost comparable. Ice-shattering shrieks and booming caws are emitted from their powerful vocal chords. No doubt this is to help others of their kind hear each other's calls over the howling wind. Stand next to one while it lets out a deep bellow, and you may think it is trying blast you off your feet instead! While it still hasn't been settled that these beasts can do real physical damage with these calls, it is certainly believed that it can help with disorienting prey or driving them into making a mistake. As they give chase, an ear-splitting shriek can certainly throw someone off, which could be enough for the birds to overtake them. Some say that these calls can break ice and are used to blast seals out of the water. These folk are what we call "idiots," because that is certainly not true. They might be mistaking this ability for the strength of their pecks and kicks, because those are where the real walloping is at! A jab from their beak can easily cut you down to the bone, and a quick kick can disembowel you or crush your ribcage. All in all, not the kind of beast you want to fight hand-to-hand. Just ask the locals of these regions and they will tell you what devils these things can be.

As a powerful predator that is always searching for a meal, the Barbarati are a never ending problem for those who live in this frozen worlds. Their sharp eyesight and decent sense of smell means that they are good at picking up trails that lead to food, even if they go straight into a hunting camp or settlement. Add to that the fact that these vicious creatures are quite smart, and you got a beast that will find some way to rob you of your kill or life. Hunters from these locales are trained in speedy field dressing and covering their tracks, as they want to be gone before a nearby Barbaratus is lured in by the blood. Villages and settlements must be careful when storing food and butchering their meat, as these birds will try to sneak in for a bite. Even if a freshly butchered seal isn't around, these beasts may decide to pick off an unwary wanderer or nab a tied up sled dog. Some may think that watchful eyes are all it takes to ward them off, but this isn't enough. Some are smart enough to set up traps or fake out watchers so another flock member can swoop in for the kill. I have heard of one famous Barbaratus that was known for setting up false attacks on villages, just so they could charge in and grab hold of a victim during the chaos. With this, vigilance is crucial for the folk who live here, and they are well-trained in picking up signs of nearby Barbarati. Be it out of necessity or self-defense, these birds can be killed and their bodies used. The meat is an obvious choice, but their plumage can be just as useful. Their thick down is great for coats, and the feathers serve for warmth and decoration. The talons are obviously excellent weapons, with the largest ones bring perfect daggers on their own! The terror these birds bring have caused them to be immortalized in paintings and carvings, acting as the vengeful claws of the unforgiving winters. I must admit that these creatures have certainly left an impression on me. In fact, this species defined an entire expedition! It was one of those times that I had packed up provisions for a month, bundled myself up and voluntarily had myself dumped in the middle of a wild, frozen tundra. I had locals drop me off in a place where I had access to pine forests, open tundra and an icy sea, all I had to do was walk! It was my hope to have a chance to explore each of these ecosystems for a week, and get a feel of what I wanted to focus my studies on. The possibilities were many and thrilling! It was on my fourth day when I caught sight of a pair of Barbarati, their hunched forms stalking the icy land for prey. Excited to watch them, I moved towards the perfect spot so I could study their hunting behavior. Unfortunately, these creatures had keen eyes, and their heads whipped in my direction as I fumbled with my gear. Their path quickly turned towards me, but I was not worried. As a dryad, my plant nature made me unpalatable to these carnivorous birds. My coloration did not fit in such a place, which would confuse them, and I did not give off any meaty odors that they would be looking for. Like how many dryads do, I just had to stay still and blend in with the scenery. As they continued to stalk forward, closing the far distance we once had between us, one of them started to let out a deep coughing sound. I recognized it from my readings as a sound of hunting. They would give these throaty calls as a signal to their fellow hunters and to terrorize their target into making a panicked mistake. Amazing as it was to hear it echo across the land, I was confused on why they were acting like this. I am a plant, and they don't like plants! It was in that moment that I looked down and finally registered that I was covered cap to root in animal furs. And that was when I ran. After talking about their speed and their ability to chase down fleeing prey, you would think it stupid for me to run. It certainly was, but it was still a smarter thing to do then stay in place and let them tear me to shreds. I booked it to the edge of a pine forest, as the open tundra offered no protection. It would maybe slow them down or give me a chance to lose them, if I even made it that far. The second I started running, one let out a booming scream and the two gave chase. Sometimes I can close my eyes and feel the vibrations that came from their pounding feet, shaking the ground as they launched themselves at me. It was terrifying. I had a head start, but that gave me mere seconds. Fit as I am, I am not capable of outrunning a skilled predator like them. They were gaining fast, and I knew they would catch me before I hit the tree line. There was the thought that they would lose interest in me once they found out I was made of vegetables and not meat, but this realization would only come after they crushed my head in their beak. So that was off the table. Instead, I started ripping gear and parts that hung off my pack and blindly flung them behind me. The rain of objects slowed them, either due to curiosity or fear that this was some kind of attack. It succeeded in buying me time, but it certainly wasn't enough for me to lose them in the forest. My best chance lay in a tree that stood in my path. Scraggly bark and low hanging branches gave me hope in scaling it, but I had to do it fast. That meant ditching my backpack, which was an easier action than I had suspected. As I was getting my arms out of the straps, the whole thing was ripped backwards, nearly pulling me with it! One of the Barbaratus had sunk their beak into it, which no doubt saved my life! The two thought they had a meal pinned down, and only realized it was a fleshless sac until I was halfway up the tree! I scurried to a high branch as they leaped at me. Their beaks snapped and tore at the air, but these beasts were not arboreal. They could not reach me, and I was safe. This fact did not register for me for a couple minutes, as I remained clinging to that branch in pure fear. They made some attempts to reach me, but soon realized I was no longer on the menu. Frustrated, they turned to my pack and tore that up in search of anything to eat. My jerkies and rations proved to be a substantial substitute, and they greedily devoured my provisions. After a few more thrashings of my shredded belongings, they turned away and disappeared into the wilderness. They were at last gone. I remained in that tree for two more hours, terrified of it being a ruse. At last, I convinced myself that the coast was clear and I hesitantly scrambled back down. I was so relieved to be free of that nightmare, until I looked at my destroyed pack and realized what it meant. My provisions were gone, my equipment was mangled and any extra clothing and supplies I had were torn beyond repair. Save for a tent and a few pieces of gear I left at base camp, I had nothing. It was then I knew that I hadn't fully avoided death. My pick up wasn't for weeks from now, and I had very little supplies. Starving or freezing to death was still an option, and they were quite possible. I can't tell you the range of emotions I went through when I thought of my situation. It still frightens me to this day. It was only when I remembered that a Conifer settlement was located deep in these woods that a sliver of hope appeared. It was certainly going to be a trek to reach them, and I had little left to make such a trip. I had no choice, though, and I started my long slog. Thankfully, my strength and spirits helped me make it to their camp, where I kindly begged for help. The Conifers listened to my situation and talked amongst themselves. After reaching a decision, they came to me and threw me out of their camp. I was deemed a burden, and they had no obligation to help me. Seeing that this option was a failure, I knew I had to come up with a different plan to survive. With this in mind, I instead broke down and cried. It was not a shining moment for me, but what else could I do? I just lay in the snow bank they dumped me in and bawled my eyes out. I was certain I was done for, as I had no idea how I would make do for these next few weeks. As fate would have it, this emotional moment wound up being my miraculous plan B. One of the Conifers of the settlement was watching me and took pity on my pathetic self. She strode over and pulled me from that snowy bed, much to my surprise. With me slung in her arms like a load of lumber, she went to the village elders and informed them that she was "adopting" me. With no sapling of her own, and no others to take care of, she agreed to share her portion of food and resources with me. Since all my costs would come from her pockets and not the village's, they finally agreed to let her keep me. From then on, I was glued to her side. "Adopting" me turned out to be a fitting term, as I was pretty much a sapling compared to them. I had none of the strength and hunting prowess for me to compete with them. Most of the meals I ate were shot with her bow, and the furs she gained were used to bundle me up. She even stepped in when other Conifers tried to give me guff, and she shut down any who thought to mess with me. My savior wound up turning the opinions of the whole settlement. After a week, the others seemed to warm up to me, and some even helped teach me some skills. The saplings were absolutely mystified with me and my diminutive appearance (they were mere years old and nearly my height!). When I started telling them tales of my travels and studies, I became their favorite source of entertainment. Their love of my stories actually gave me some respect from the elders, as they couldn't ignore the stranger the young ones approved of. It didn't give me full sway, but it at least cut down on the amount of glares I got when they walked by me. By the time my rendezvous arrived, I was doing alright by the Conifers. Some even seemed sad to see me go! I know the saplings were heartbroken to see their storyteller wave goodbye, even when I promised to return. When I made my trip to reach the rendezvous, I didn't do it alone. My adoptive "mother" came with me to see me off, so that she could guarantee my safety and to ensure I actually got home. It was when we stood there in the snow, waiting for the sled team to pick me up, that I finally asked her what had been on my mind the whole time. I never had the courage to ask before, especially since I was terrified she would change her mind and ditch me. Now was the last chance I had to ask (as far as I knew, at the time), so I went for it: "Why did you save me?" "We lose much to the cruel winter, but we must never abandon our compassion." That was her answer, and that is what I will always remember. I could see that these words meant a lot to her, so I made sure to give them respect. Thank you, Thuja, for all that you have given me and taught me. I am always delighted when I get a chance to see you and your village again, and I hope I can see you a hundred times more. You were the kindest mother any sapling could ask for, and I am honored you chose me. ...Oh right, the Barbaratus. Yeah, I hate those things. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian -------------------------------------------------------- I said it many times and I will say it again, I hate making birds. And I also hate how good this turned out. Curse you! Also I imagine if this thing had a scientific name it would be Barbatus glacies. I was thinking of mentioning it in the entry, but then realized if I gave one creature a scientific name, then I would have to do it for all of them. Not enough time in the world!

#bird #avian #monster #creature #flightless birds #terror birds #art #drawing

36 notes · View notes

theblackwarden · 3 years

Text

PREY.

Like birds’ wings mangled and tangled in a web of wires - each lie she used to free herself. The more the story continues, the tighter it becomes - like the arms of prison shackling her form without warmth. Like a catch between fangs of the beast. Or talons pierced deep into her form. Is it fear of a prey to not fight free and flee but to submit to an inevitable death, or is it determination to keep the play going? What was there to be feared, if she truly was who she claimed to be? As long as one behaved like a prey, a prey they’d be in the eyes of a predator, trigger a chase by attempts of escape- true hunter would know its equal, approach without fear. Which one, would she choose to be. But was it even fear… this all lingered between edges of danger and pure curiosity. Adrenaline rush she could become addicted to. What would he do.

Her hand, running over the chest she pressed her form more and more against, reaching up towards the covered frame of his face - small and delicate compared to the hands much larger - yet, her touch could be just as firm as the fingers digging into the layers of a town man’s attire.

❝ — Don’t you feel anything but the thrill of kill? It is but a passing joy, while… you could have my very everything. ❞

@rosmcrinus

How is it that between the two of them, it is her gaze that is confident and his that is shaken?

Despite how light she is, he feels a ten-ton weight pressing against him. Her hand spreads across his chest like a flame spreading throughout a home, leaving blazes and sparks with every motion. That flame now threatens to set alight his mind, his eyes, his lips.

His hands are ungloved, bare, raw, simply because he wished to clean his equipment. Now he has been ambushed without his armor, and his hands - massive, thick, ready to tear and snap and crush at a moment’s notice - hover around her, fingers twitching with uncertainty.

“Do you know what you are saying? Has the delirium taken you? You know nothing of me, not even my name, and you would give me your everything? Me, who does not even know your name?”

This is a different interrogation. He seeks not beasthood or infection but something far more sinister and formless. His hands slowly clasp around her shoulders, before they move up, up. They trail across her collar, and they crawl every so slowly up her neck, fingers pressing every so slightly like teeth around the neck of a captured animal - yet, he does not feel as if she is the captured one.

His fingers press against her skin and trail up to her face, which he now cups between his palms. They both know it would be so easy to snap her neck right there, for a single motion to end her everything, and indeed, how possible it was that he might do just that. He lowers himself to look more throughly into her eyes, and from this close, she can see the inferno flickering within them - and she can see her own reflection filling all that he sees. In this moment, he is looking at nothing but her, and only her, with his complete attention.

Does he seek betrayal? Yes, that is what he searches her face for. Certainly, she will show fear, or she will show disgust, yes, there will be the telltale twitch of her eyes, a sneer on her lips, yes, this is what he searches her face for. He must confirm that this is not real, that she is simply deceitful or mad, for he knows everything there is to know on how to handle traitors.

But what if she isn’t? What of the alternative? What is the possibility that makes his own gaze waver?

“You speak of your everything, but you do not fool me. What could you possibly desire from me? I could destroy you at a moment’s notice, and you know it. What game are you playing?”

His thumb slides over her cheek and rests on her lips.

“This is all an act, I know it is. How far would you take it, hm?”

His thumb presses against her lips, tugs at the lower one, and his hand moves under her chin to tilt her face up at his command. His eyes - the only part of his face that she can see, the rest hidden away like the secrets she worked her life to uncover - burn into her.

“You have something up your sleeve, I know it.”

His hands slide away from his face, dragging across her skin, her neck, in all the right and wrong ways. They rest upon the collar of her shirt.

“Surely, you do not desire this? Surely, this is temporary madness, or you seek to trick me? Confess, and it shall cease. Do you not see reason? What could you possibly want?”

He tears it open and buttons fly like a flame’s sparks and he can see how her chest goes up and down and up and down with every single breath, he is one step closer to her heart and lungs and her life, and she can see himself in his hands, she can see his eyes burning through her, daring her, provoking her, fighting her, asking her - what will you do?

#suggestive #rosmcrinus

5 notes · View notes