#tw hunting

[words-from-a-magpie]

Ah, yes. A semi-automatic shotgun.

yknow. for hunting.

[kiell-r]

For Inktober 2023 Day 4 prompt: Dodge

[serickswrites]

Compass

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, hunting, sadistic whumper

Whumpee trembled in the back of the truck. They had tried to slip the cuffs around their wrists for the last half hour as Whumper drove deeper and deeper into the woods, but it had been to no avail. They were stuck going to wherever Whumper wanted them to go, doing whatever Whumper wanted them to do. 

The truck suddenly stopped and Whumpee slammed into the rear window. Whumper chuckled as they climbed out. “Whoops, was a little eager to start our fun early.”

“Please,” Whumpee panted as the world spun around them, “let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I promise. Please,” they begged. 

Whumper grabbed Whumpee by the back of their neck suddenly. Their grip was hard and bruising as they began to fiddle with the cuffs on Whumpee’s wrists. As Whumpee struggled, Whumper squeezed tighter and tighter until Whumpee squealed with pain. 

“Quit it, will you? I’m trying to get these off you!” Whumper growled. 

The cuffs suddenly dropped from Whumpee’s wrists. Whumpee pulled their bruised wrists to their chest, their sudden freedom no longer welcomed. Before Whumpee could say anything, Whumper grabbed Whumpee’s right wrist and pulled. 

“Open your hand,” they ordered. 

Whumpee complied lest Whumper break their wrist. “I don’t understand. I--”

“You’re going to need this,” Whumper cut Whumpee off gruffly as they dropped a small compass in their hand. 

“I don’t understand. Please, let me go.”

Whumper smiled as they stared down at Whumpee. “I am.”

“Thank you, thank you,” the words tumbled from Whumpee’s mouth. They could not believe how lucky they were in this moment. 

“You have an hour, Whumpee. I’m letting you go for an hour before I go after you. You escape in that hour, that’s your freedom.” Whumper smiled pleasantly. “However, if at the end of the hour you’re still here,” Whumper’s eyes grew dark, “then I will find you. And I will hunt you down like the animal you are.”

“Please! I won’t tell anyone, I swear!” Whumpee had no idea where they were. Or even what direction safety was. How were they going to get out of there?

Whumper checked their watch. “You have fifty-eight minutes now. I’d get running if I were you. The closest town is about twenty miles due south. You make it there, you’re safe, Whumpee. Run, run for your life.”

Whumpee scrambled from the truck bed and started running. They had no idea where south was. And they had no idea how long it would take them to go twenty miles. But they had to get out of there. Had to before Whumper hunted them down. 

[ant1quarian]

Fallout (Witherborn Dust) x Reader Drabble

Something wasn’t right.

You had been spawned into this world some twenty odd years ago in the quaint town of Wandermere; a prestigious little area that sold generously paying, hard-to-get resources from one of the most dangerous realms out there.

The Nether.

A large nether portal sat in the middle of the town as the biggest feature, often used for trade travelling between the netherborn species and overworld species.

From a young age you had been enchanted by the prospect of the fiery hellscape that lay just a few blocks from your home. You wanted to explore it– and had often snuck in behind your parents back, only to get dragged out by a Piglin brute.

You’d grown yourself quite the name there before you were finally old enough to be eligible to be added upon the list of traders.

And so you did. And had for a long time.

But you hadn’t expected to be asked by the Wandermere’s Leadership circle to deliver a book to the Piglin kingdom some hundred miles from the nearest portal.

You’d jumped at the chance regardless.

So far, your trek had been relatively uneventful– only having to take down a couple ghasts and the occasional skeleton with a well-aimed arrow on your way.

Child’s play, really.

It was as soon as you hit the SOULsand valleys that something felt… off.

It wasn’t the frigid cold clawing and digging into you like thorns. It wasn’t the feeling of absolute hopelessness. Not the sharp, ashen air that carried hints of the smell of old leather books and blood. It wasn’t even the tormented whispers of the SOULs carried on the wind.

No. It was the silence.

The nether was never truly always silent– definitely not to this degree. You hadn’t come across a skeleton or even an enderfolk in the three hundred metres you’d walked.

Worrying, really. But you pressed on, grip digging into the leather of your satchel.

You carefully walked upon the sandy earth, near to the pool of lava in hopes of being able to absorb a little warmth before continuing your journey. You strained your ears for any sign of something being super wrong, unused to the way your SOUL seemed to be screaming at you to run and the way your breath began to come in short huffs.

You froze when you finally registered a low, rumbling hissing noise akin to that of a creeper’s. The tortured SOULs of the damned wailed before vanishing.

Feeling a presence at your back, you slowly turned, only to flinch backwards as your SOUL jumped into your throat.

Oh fuck.

A tall, imposing figure wearing nothing but a cloak and shorts stood before you. Thick, scarred ribs on full display, glinting in the warm lighting of the lava pit.

You glanced downwards briefly, feeling like a rather pathetic piece of prey stuck between fight-or-flight, only to spot the gleaming edge of an absolute sword of a tail tip flicking back and forth.

Your eyes shot upwards to look in the figure's face and felt a cold realisation settle upon you when, from underneath the dark shadow their hood cast, red-and-blue mismatched eyelights returned your gaze, showing little to no emotion. Intrigued, perhaps. The gaze of a trained killer looking nonchalantly at their target.

Oh fuck, indeed.

[van1llam1lkk]

Bloodstained lips

[ sfw | TW ; Coercion, CNC but can be seen as dubcon, Prey and Predator Dynamic, Implied Sexual Content, Violence, Degradation, Erisa isn't human, hunting, Size Difference, Some groping, biting, Some aftercare, Inhuman Anatomy, Blood, General Yandere Content]

Female Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader

No post Thursday.... Doing kinktober,,, 2k words and 'm not done

Erisa never got why you were so interesting to be around, sure you were cute, sweet, naive, always talking as if she actually cared about what you're saying.

But she thinks what drawn her to you the most was how human you were. Even though you tried your best, there are still times she can see that anxiety building up in the back of your mind any time she stands to her full height, fighting back prey instincts to run away from her because even then— You both knew she'd catch you.

She always did, and this time wasn't different.

Your breath was fast and hot against her unusually cold skin. Wide eyes peered up at hers as your body squirmed under her grip. Her long pointed nails dug into your arms where she had forced them down. The aroma of fear mixed with sweat wafted through the air as she moved closer.

Rather than causing harm, Erisa let out a gentle chuckle as she pressed her lips against your earlobe and murmured "Calm down little one - I would never hurt you...unless I wanted to."

You can feel the warmth spreading across your face intensified as you attempted to wriggle away — But compared to her towering form you couldn't escape her grasp. She tightened her hold as she continued to tease you, warm breath tickling down your neck.

You turned away from her and clamped your eyes shut in hopes of avoiding eye contact.

"So tiny..." She crooned softly, Her third arm reaching up to cup your face. "So vulnerable," She whispered, cheeks squeezing together so that your mouth was shaped into an 'O'. "So easy to kill."

"I could probably snap your neck right now if I wanted to..." she mused, imagining the scene in her mind. The look of fear, betrayal, shock permanently etched onto your face— what a sight to behold.

Her hand moved down from your face to your chest, skimming over the fabric of your shirt.

Erisa trailed her fingers across your chest partially admiring the size of her palm compared to your abdomen. You swore you could feel shivers running through as her coolness touched your warmth. You knew you felt something other than fear too—something animalistic and carnal.

She too seemed to sensed the shift in your emotions and grinned, sharp teeth shining ever so slightly. "You like this, don't you?" she whispered huskily. "You like when I use you for my own wants 'n needs." Teasingly, she tugged at your shirt until it came off with a sharp rip.

A combination of a laugh and a sigh escaped Erisa's lips before leaning close and tasting you for the first time. She dragged her freakishly long tongue down your neck, leaving traces of saliva behind. You stifled a whimper and squeezed your thighs together as her tongue continued its journey.

She eventually pulls back with an amused smirk, taking in the sight of your flushed, tear stained face and glistened skin.

"Beautiful," she breathes softly, her head close to your collarbone as she inhales deeply.

"Mmm, you smell amazing— I'm sorry love, but I don't want to drag this out today." These were the only words that issued warning before her teeth sunk themselves into your flesh.

A sharp cry escapes you, pain radiating from where her canines pierced through your skin. The heat of it spreads down your neck like a wildfire. You squirm in her grip, trying and failing to push her away.

After an agonizing minute that felt like hours, she pulled away, leaving behind red stains against her teeth.

Adoringly, she places little kisses along each tooth mark, licking at it and sucking the pooled blood off her tongue with a content hum. The cool sensation of her lips against your burning marks creates a strange duality — washes away the pain moment by moment, replacing it with an ever-present throbbing that intensifies whenever Erisa becomes more adventurous and prods gently the bite wound to make it bleed anew.

"You treat me so well—" she murmurs in between kisses, swallowing thickly.

"Oh I'll praise your name until the heavens are forced to look down upon us and watch." Her voice rambles on in an almost poetic fashion as her fingers tighten around you; the arms holding yours down digging into your forearms slightly while the other two grasps at your waist firmly pressing you against her own body.

"A lamb condemned to slaughter—and by my hands no less—" She continues blathering, taking long licks along the bite marks.

It was bizarre — For someone that was usually so calm and composed unraveling the second seemed to unravel as soon as a drop of your blood touched her lips. You felt her grip relax, and she pulled away, looking sated.

Gently, she lifted you onto her lap. It was hard to believe this was the same creature who'd convince you to let her hunt you, pin you to the ground, and had almost taken a chunk of flesh out of you. She ran her hand through your hair with surprising tenderness, humming softly, tucking a lock of hair behind your ears.

She smiled at how woozy you were from the blood loss. "Little sheep?" she then asked in a quiet voice, lightly tapping your cheek to get your attention.

"We should do this again."

[punkymaysnark]

Me? Oh, I'm feeling fine.

An anaconda was shot dead but I'm fine. A beautiful anaconda was shot dead but I'm fine. A beautiful anaconda who was the largest snake in the world was shot dead but I'm fine. A beautiful anaconda who was the largest snake in the world was shot dead by a trophy hunter just for the bragging rights but I'm fine. A beautiful anaconda who was the largest snake in the world was shot dead by a trophy hunter just for the bragging rights within a month of being advertised to the world by scientists after a decade of living peacefully but I'm fine. You hear me? I'mfineI'mfineI'mfineI'mfineI'mfineI'mfine

[kora-kat]

Deus ex Machina

[james-vi-stan-blog]

to your knowledge, did King James ever abuse George in some way? I’ve seen people throw that word around

tw abuse, child abuse, coercion, violence against animals and stuff

It depends on what you mean by abuse. If you consider a severely power-differentiated relationship abuse, then the whole thing is abusive, but also every interpersonal relationship in the 17th century is abusive.

I don’t know of any reported instance of James hitting George, nor of overt sexual coercion (though we know very little about their bedroom life, such as it is possible for historians to argue that they never had sex, although this is a minority view now). James was VERY into marrying off his courtiers, including his favorites, and when George married Katherine, while James still expected George to be constantly at his side, he encouraged them to go at it and make babies. Most of James’s favorites seem to have transitioned out of sleeping with him, and he remained very affectionate with them. Also, remember how James called Carr not wanting to sleep with him “a mere unkindness”? He was hurt, and I read those words as being whiny and guilt trip-y, but it’s not like he was demanding constant service. (Also, many historians think George was probably not having sex with James towards the end of James’s reign simply because James was very sick. Yet this is the period of James’s most intensely romantic letters.)

James, we should remember, hated violence (at least between humans) and had trauma over being shouted at. This doesn’t mean he would never perpetuate it. He did have a temper (nothing like Henry VIII levels though). He led armies, personally oversaw torture, sentenced people to brutal death, etc. — although in this period these would be seen as just actions that a moral king should do, protecting his people against criminals and outlaws. James was popularly criticized for being too soft.

There is an oft-repeated story about him trying to strike a teenage Henry Frederick with his cane during a hunt. This would have been considered acceptable discipline for a father to mete on his son, if “justified” by bad behavior. However, Henry Frederick simply rode off and most of the hunting party went with him, signaling that the prince was more popular than the king and James was not considered justified in this case. (Though, I heard this story told once where HENRY FREDERICK is the one who tried to hit JAMES.)

James and George did argue with raised voices, James publically snubbed George during problem periods of their relationship, but I don’t know that these would really be “abuse” rather than conflict. There is the aspect of the power differential, where George has to grovel and apologize to get James to forgive him, because James was the king. However, James very readily gave his forgiveness (and not just to George, he was generally very eager to forgive any of his friends or favorites for anything if they promised him their love).

Robert Carr DID yell at James, and the main thrust of James’s extremely long feelingsdump letter to him was that he felt hurt and betrayed that Carr wanted to “hold him by awe” (fear) “rather than by love”. So James felt Carr was controlling him by threats and angry outbursts, which James resented, saying that he would do anything for Carr for love, but if he felt he was being taken for granted and Carr was bullying him, that that love would swiftly turn to hate.

(Of course, we must remember that James was a divine right king, so we should be suspicious of his characterization of Carr’s behavior. When James is this massively entitled, such that he genuinely thinks it is a religious sin to resist his will, is he correctly perceiving this situation? Is he overreacting to a relatively modest drawing of boundaries by Carr? I’m inclined to think James genuinely felt betrayed and Carr really was yelling at him and scaring him, but we can’t fully trust James’s perspective.)

So, the short answer is, I don’t know of any instance between James and George that is unambiguously abuse, although of course their whole relationship is colored by power and manipulation. But I’m not a historian or biographer or anything. I’m just a James enjoyer, constantly learning new things, so there could have been an instance somewhere, I simply haven’t learned of it yet.

In the Mary & George trailer, there’s an instance of James wiping George’s face with blood, but this is not from violence against humans; this is a ritual of the deer hunt, where the leader of the hunt (James) marks his companions with the fresh blood of the kill. So this is an act of favor and weird homoerotic intimacy rather than violence towards George.

[sharpth1ng]

More scream texts, this one goes out to @pinhead-cenobite for the constantly unhinged hcs

A knife is a dick pic too.

[yearningaces]

??? You're a hunter???

Not yet, tbh

Lots of folks in my family are and I've had practice with different guns and bows for hunting but I haven't gone yet. We don't need meat, we're loaded and when it is finally my time to go, I'll have whatever I catch brought to a butcher I know, I'll use the hide for something as well as the bones. Great fertilizer tbh 👍

[bonefall]

Do the clans ever scavenge from larger kills? Like they might not be able to take down a deer themselves, but if they came across some leftovers would they take some of the meat or fur to use for crafting?

The problem would be that whatever is big enough to kill such a large animal would probably not leave many usable materials behind!

The large deer in question here are red, sika, and fallow deer. What's usually killing those is hunters, who would be retrieving the deer after shooting it for the venison. The one thing Clan cats could collect from that is "gralloch," removed organs that are usually just buried so the carcass is easier to move.

Gralloch would feed Clan cats for weeks though. Organ meat can be delicious.

In the case of an animal dying naturally, or a bad shot means the animal escapes and dies without being retrieved, then the Clan cats would want to salvage as much as possible. The hardest part would be taking the carcass home themselves!

They'd be kind of like ants. One would find it, run home, and rally as many warriors as possible to mob it and process the carcass quickly. It would be a race with decay. They wouldn't have a name for this event though, it would be a very rare and very exciting thing.

[holly-mckenzie]

I went to North Dakota, I saw the farm. Met your sister. Shit. She showed me where you slept. You didn't deserve that. It was fine. It's better than all the other places. I don't know. I try not to think about all that. All what? A bunch of foster homes. There was this one lady who used to like hit me and... I was six. She just... fuckin'. What the fuck, man. What the... what the fuck.

LITTLE BIRD  (2023) ｜ Episode Five directed by Zoe Leigh Hopkins

[eggs-are-my-passion]

ok, I think things may be getting a bit out of hand...

<photo of 57 eggs>

24 woopers, 17 bug types in general and 16 magikarp

Cocoa brought me the bugs from Ilex cause they seem to be swarming their lab

The magikarp were rescued cause a crazy trainer thought it would be a good idea to kill a gyarados for sport. Said gyarados was a mother

The woopers are from another illegal breeders that were caught yesterday

[cuppedbottledwater]

SPN Killer Instinct, Using Sam and Dean as bait, and growing up in Midwest

THIS IS LONG I'M SO SORRY TLDR: Supernatural fans made me realize how fucked up being raised in regular normal world hunting was. So to give some context for this whole post, I need to explain how I grew up. I was raised in rural Midwest America, where everyone and their dog hunted some form of wild game. This meant me and all my friends were taught how to shoot at around 5 to 6 years old. Hunting and shooting guns were things that were considered important milestones where I lived. Getting your first kill was a celebratory occasion and getting your first gun or bow was a huge moment. So of course I didn't understand why people were upset with John Winchester handing Dean a gun and being disappointed Sam didn't have the killer instinct. Because my dad was the same way with me and my older brother, just that I was Dean and my brother was Sam. I was good with a gun, my brother wasn't, and my dad was disappointed in him for it. In my eyes, John was being a normal dad and was completely right to be disappointed that Sam didn't have the same affinity for guns. Then people started talking about John practically using his kids as bait in a hunt. And again, I didn't understand why people were upset since my dad did the same to me and my brother. We went with him on a hunt and he told us to go draw out the deer. Sent us into the woods to make loud noises and break sticks to push the deer herd towards him. That day my dad shot directly at where I stood with my brother. Had any of his shots missed, it would have hit one of us. My dad was praised by the parents of friends and by our family for using us to draw out the herd, so I didn't see anything wrong with it. And then I started to read fanfiction, watch supernatural video essays, and see text posts that all pointed out how fucked up it was. I began talking to SPN fans that I knew online, asking what they thought of it all. And it all made me realize how dangerous my upbringing was, how pitting me and my brother against each other because one of us couldn't shoot like the other was fucked up, how sending us out in the direct line of fire was so incredibly stupid. So if anyone tells you that what John Winchester did was just something that would only happen in fiction, that it's not a big deal and you shouldn't be upset by it at all, you can show them this. Handing kids a gun and being disappointed that they don't perform well with it is real. Sending your kids to bait out prey in a hunt is real. And it's not okay.

[inkblot22]

It Leeches Under The Skin

So I promise I am not obsessed with anything, but I definitely am going to be a bit more self-indulgent with this miniseries. Also I spent several hours staring at pictures of abandoned pools so that was kind of cool.

I'm going to try something new and put the target audience here. This part is aimed at gender neutral readers (they/them pronouns wooo,) and can be read as afab or amab, as there is no smut whatsoever in this section. I'll see if I can keep the body ambiguous enough for later parts, but it may come at a cost to writing quality as my skills are lacking.

TW for mentions of gambling, contracts with Azul (selling your soul to the devil), human hunting, if you squint, blood, biting, verbal abuse, reader is bad at swimming, Floyd and Jade because they freak me out and I know I'm not the only one. If you squint, there may be some primal play, but like I said there is no smut.

It was a little odd. Entirely predictable, but also a little odd. Their best friend and roommate seldom thought his plots and plans through all the way, and of course they bore the brunt of the collateral.

Well. It’s well-deserved, they supposed. Expect trouble and you’ll get it, after all. They only wished it wouldn’t cost this much.

“Prefect? Are you listening?” Azul’s kind voice broke through their thoughts, but it was so easy to lapse back into the comfort of their mind.

What did he do this time? Oh, yes. Grim just gambled away all their savings and won nothing in return. The Lounge already had the seedy vibes of a speakeasy, why wouldn’t they also have a gambling table? Regardless, he’d racked up enough debt and was unable to pay it back, so the Leech twins had paid them a visit, perhaps hoping that they’d have some stash of money somewhere to pay.

They would, had it not been what Grim used to gamble. They sighed and stared at the cup of tea in front of them.

“Prefect, I thought you enjoyed tea. If you don’t like that blend, we can get you another one.” Azul said, “You seem lost in your thoughts. I hope all is well?”

“Not really. I’m about to sell my soul to the devil.”

“I’m hardly the devil. Besides, the main stipulation of this contract is simply that you let Floyd take you swimming tomorrow night.”

They didn’t trust that at all. They snatched the contract from Azul, and sure enough, in big, bold letters, they read the requirement of going swimming. 

“There’s a problem.” They said, scanning over the rest of the contract and not finding anything particularly bad within, “Two problems.”

“What would those be?”

“Well, I want you to guarantee Grim’s safety,” They passed the contract back to Azul. “Also I can’t swim.”

“That’s not a problem, prefect.” Azul spread his hands in a relaxed, placating gesture, “I have potions and other implements to help with that. It’s a non-issue.”

“Alright, then. And what’s the thing about hanging out with Floyd later on as well?”

“It’s only a clause, don’t worry. If he gets bored, then it won’t matter.”

They had to narrow their eyes at that one, kind of unsure about this. Still, the chances of him growing bored was about a 50% chance,

“Okay… Fix that part about Grim and I’ll sign it.”

Azul’s writing was quick but not one bit less neat. They signed the contract and Jade placed it in the safe, then poked his head out of the Lounge’s office.

Floyd strolled in, holding Grim. His face broke into a big grin when he saw them sitting there.

“Hey, Shrimpy!” He unceremoniously dropped Grim and got in their face, smiling even wider, “Why are you gettin’ so sweaty? I can smell you all the way from over here!”

“You’re…” They turned their head away, grimacing, “You’re really close, actually.”

“Hee hee… I know.”

“Are we gonna pretend that he didn’t just drop me or what?” Grim bristled and walked over, climbing onto the couch and taking a seat, “You guys are so rude!”

“Sorry, Grimmy-wimmy-two-toes.” They cooed at him, squishing his cheeks and giggling as he swatted them away, “Did you break anything other than your pride?”

Floyd stood, picking up the prefect's untouched tea and sniffing it, “Ugh.”

“Well, since this meeting is over, I trust you’ll be in the natatorium at eight tomorrow?”

“Eight? Is it going to go past curfew?” The prefect asked.

“Yes. I am sure this is also not an issue.” Azul’s eyes glanced at Grim and they swallowed, narrowing their eyes and frowning.

“Yeah… no problem.”

~*~

After classes, Jade dropped off what appeared to be an overnight bag, including a terrible swimsuit. It sort of looked like a chitinous layer, a silvery brownish color with panels sewn together like the plates of a crustacean. Not a very funny joke, honestly. There was no clause in the contract that they could remember that required them to wear this, but they also couldn’t remember, so they put it on anyways and rifled through the rest of the bag. There were painkillers, a pair of water wings, a few potions that they would not be imbibing, a new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, travel soap that smelled like Floyd's cologne (yuck), and a few pairs of underwear. How he had gotten their sizes correct was something they chose not to ponder for long.

The walk to the natatorium was sort of slow. Maybe it was just their reluctance to go through on this, the concern of what the night would hold fresh in the forefront of their mind. 

It wasn’t that they disliked Floyd by any means. They honestly thought he was okay, and other than the incidents before Azul overblotted, they hadn’t really had to consider him a threat of any kind. There was that primal part of their brain, long suppressed through years and years of being the apex species in their world, that sometimes whispered that they needed to get away from him when he looked at them a certain way, or made a certain noise or movement… Little things that unsettled them but were easily ignored. 

The natatorium was unlocked. They stopped in the locker room and took off their overclothes, leaving them in the swimsuit and the pair of cheap flip-flops they’d gotten off of Ace. The flip-flops were too big on them, but he assured them that he could just get a new pair whenever. It was nice of him.

The pool room was silent and dark. The water was uncovered and completely still, but they couldn’t see Floyd anywhere. They took a seat on the edge of the pool, dipping their legs in the water and blowing up the water wings. They kicked their legs and waited.

Something shot out of the water, grabbing them by the shoulders and pulling them down in the water. They didn’t even have time to scream before their head went under and whatever it was released them.

The water wings ensured that they popped back up on the surface, gasping for air and shaking. They struggled to paddle to the edge of the pool but something grabbed their ankle and pulled them back underwater.

Clawing at the air uselessly, the prefect went back under, no sound other than a cut off scream escaping them this time. When they popped back up, head and arms above water, they heard snakey-sounding laughter. Their head whipped around, panicked, before they saw him.

Floyd was leaning against the pool wall, grinning in his true form with his head slightly tilted. All they could see of him was his silhouette, highlighted by the moonlight shining through the large windows of the natatorium, and his glowing eyes, one gold and one silver. He kept laughing as they slowly paddled to the other side of the pool and hugged the wall, turning to shoot him a glare.

“You’re really bad at tag, Shrimpy.” He said before they could say anything.

“Tag?”

“Yup. We were playing tag. It’s boring to be 'it' all the time, you know.”

“Floyd, I can barely even see you. How-”

“If we turn on the lights, we’ll get caught. It’s more fun this way, too.”

“But I can’t be 'it' if it’s dark. I can’t see you.”

He shrugged and slipped into the water, the only visible part of him becoming those glowing eyes, “That’s too bad, Shrimpy. Better start swimming.”

They were so bad at swimming, legs paddling in futility as they tried to get to the deep end of the pool. The water was black as ink under them, feeling endless. They felt a motion below them and disgust crawled up their throat as they paddled faster. It was slow moving, they waved their arms through the water and spat up the saltwater that got in their mouth. 

If it was, in fact, Floyd circling underneath them, he was simply toying with them now. The motion they felt went still as they got to the other side and they paused to catch their breath. 

The room was silent under their heavy breathing. They looked around and felt the sweat bead on their neck and shoulders, under their arms and at their hairline as they wondered when he would catch up or pull them under. Nothing of the sort happened.

They kept paddling towards the edge of the pool so they could lean on the wall instead of feeling so unsteady with these waterwings on. As they splashed slowly towards the wall, they relaxed infinitesimally.

An arm shot up in front of them, webbed hand grabbing their face as a sharp, spiking pain lanced around their shoulder. They screamed as they were pulled under, the breath they were expelling turning into nothing but bubbles.

They could hear giggling, sort of like the sound of pebbles sifting underwater, and he let them go again. Their head popped above water and they gasped for air, touching their shoulder and wincing as the saltwater tickled the wound there. Their fingers came back smeared with a dark substance and they began paddling faster, climbing out of the pool as soon as they could.

“Man, you got the water all dirty. It smells like blood now.” Floyd’s voice startled them and they looked around.

They couldn’t see him, not from wherever he was. Their lips quivered and voice shook as they spoke.

“You… you bit me.”

“Uh, duh, Shrimpy. Why do humans gotta have such thin skin anyways? It makes it harder to do fun stuff.”

“What the hell are you even saying? You can’t run around biting people!”

“I don’t,” He said, plainly. They could almost make out his silhouette in the water, or at least see the ripples as he moved towards them, “Well, since you wanna be lame and complain about a little bite, guess we gotta get out of the pool now.” 

He hefted himself up onto the lip of the pool and popped the cork on something. They could hear him swallowing and then they could see his teal scales change into pale skin. He frowned at them and that primal part of their brain whispered that they should run.

They swallowed and stood up, frowning and clutching their shoulder, “I… I’m gonna go find a first aid kit.”

They turned on their heel and Floyd pulled them back by the seat of their swimsuit.

“You’re kinda stupid,” He mused, “You were gonna walk into the pool again. Do you wanna keep swimming?”

“No!” They yanked away and waved their foot in front of them, ensuring that the floor was solid, “I already told you that I can’t see, Floyd.”

He giggled again as you entered the locker room and gathered your clothes.

You hoped he was bored, but it was an asinine and frivolous wish.

[cheddarkit]

Crazy high prey drive today. We had a blizzard yesterday and for some reason there's been a ton of small animals out like small birds and squirrels and rabbits and I am going fucking crazy

I want to rip them all to shreds with my teeth and chase them and hunt them and kill them and eat them and I hate that I want to because it's so. Grrrrrr I hate having a prey drive this is awful I'm so high energy rn and agitated and I want to run but I can't I'm walking around in a giant silent store with my parents

Literally fucking explodes