#wandering garter snake

[orofeaiel]

Wandering Garter Snake

[puffywiz]

saw a snake today

[noiivvern]

gator laser gun noises are so cute I wish I lived in florida. wait. nevermind.

[herpsandbirds]

SPECIAL HIBERNATION CUDDLE BUDDIES!!!

Prairie Rattlesnake (Crotalus viridis), family Viperidae, VENOMOUS, and Wandering Garter Snakes (Thamophis elegans vagrans), family Colubridae, basking outside a communal hibernaculum, Colorado, USA

It is not uncommon for both rattlesnakes and garter snakes to use communal overwintering dens/hibernacululae, often sharing the site with other species. Other snakes do this as well.

The Wandering Garter is a subspecies of the Western Terrestrial Garter Snake.

photograph by Emily Taylor

[truetogaia]

I JUST WANNA GRAB AT HIS SHOULDERS

pairing: husband!miguel o'hara x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+

synopsis: Miguel is just so so happy to have finally married you, and hes prepared to show you that with his ****

warnings: smut w a lil plot, foreplay, p in v, unprotected sex, depictions, mature n explicit themes, no pull out sorry lolz, size kink, marking kink, biting, choking, lovey rough sex.

word count: 1.3 k

MIGUEL MASTERLIST I REQUESTS: OPEN

Your newly wed husband had practically thrown himself over you the second you stepped foot inside the hotel the two of you had chosen to spend your honeymoon at. 

After a few minutes of him trying desperately to get you out of your big wedding dress, you let out a quiet giggle, reaching back to undo the zipper of the dress and letting it fall to your ankles. He stared for a good while, the two of you had decided to keep the wedding garter on, not wanting to do such intimate things in front of friends and family, and he was so happy you had settled on that decision. His large hands gripped at your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist as he carefully laid you down on the huge, honeymoon bed.

Miguel was hovering above you, pupils blown with lust. He impatiently grabbed at the plush of your thighs, desperate to get to the sweet, sickly treat stashed away in your core. His gaze wandered all over your soft body, appreciating all the curves, the stretch of your skin, embedding it deep within his memories. You gently placed your hands on each side of his face, eagerly pulling him down into a sloppy, wet kiss.

And here you were, trapped beneath the muscular, brawny body of your husband. He caged you in with his strong arms, lips ghosting over your exposed neck and the hickeys that adorned your skin. You clawed at the clothes that kept your skin from meeting his, feeling awfully exposed compared to his fully clothed figure. A slight snicker escaped him as he slowly lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing the toned abs of his abdomen. You let your digits run over each pack of muscle, your eyes glued to the exposed skin. 

A whine seeped from your lips, resembling that of a plea. A smirk tugged at the corners of Miguel’s mouth when the sound reached his ears, and he was more than thrilled to give you exactly what you wanted. His shirt was on the bedroom floor in seconds, the metal of his belt klanking as his fingers quickly worked to get his pants off.

Your skin was burning up, sensitive to the touch, tingles following each tap of his digits. He chuckled, although his mind was as hazy as yours, filled with lust for his new wife. His hands snaked down your waist, toying with the hem of your special lingerie. 

“So, so beautiful..” he mumbled, bringing his head down to kiss at the exposed skin of your chest. Your increased whines only fueled the hunger he felt for you and soon he tore the fabric off of your form. His hands quickly placed themselves on your hot skin, traveling up to grope at your breasts and further down to grab at the tender flesh of your thighs. 

His breathy voice made your pussy clench around nothing, “Shit.. you look delicious.. All mine now, yeah”

He snickered and a gasp escaped your soft lips as his digits made contact with your folds, already soaked in your overflowing arousal. Miguel groaned loudly as the wetness coated his thick fingers, the sound sending shivers up your spine, making you even more impatient. His hands wandered to your garter, moving a finger under it and letting the elastic band snap back in place. 

“Gonna keep this on for later, how does that sound, mi vida?”

The look on your face made him feral, eyelids heavy and eyes hazy as you nodded. You cried out as two of his long, slender fingers sank into your cunt, immediately setting a steady, rhythmic tempo. Your soft moans filled the room as his digits pumped in and out of your pussy, senses heightened euphoric feeling left after the wedding.

You felt an all too familiar knot start to form in your abdomen, moans increasing in volume the closer to the sweet release you got, but when you clenched around his fingers, he stopped. You looked up at him, pouting at the denial of your release. 

“Ah ah, you deserve to cum under even better circumstances.” He cooed, hastily moving his hands to the hem of his, painfully tight, boxers. 

“Be patient, princesa. I'll be stretching you out in no time if you’re just patient,  alright?” He cooed, voice soft and reassuring. You nodded lazily, the pretty updo of your hair now messy and ruined. “That’s a good girl,” sighing, he brought a hand to your mouth, gently tapping your lips with his thumb, “now, suck for me, yeah?” You did as he said without hesitation, gliding your wet tongue over his rough digit. He hummed in approval, watching your perfect lips enclose his finger.

He suddenly removed the digit from your mouth, moving his hands to pull his boxers down. You propped yourself up on your elbows, leaning back to observe your husband, pupils the size of jupiter. He suddenly grabbed a hold of your waist, turning you around to expose your behind. His soft palm stroked the plush of your ass, circling it before traveling further down to prod at the hole of your sweet cunt with his soaked fingers. 

You felt him shift his weight to his knees, positioning his heavy tip, aligning it with your desperate, fluttering entrance. Both of you sighed as he pushed in, reveling in the feeling of something filling your needy cunt. He slowly inched himself deeper into you, sinking into the tightness of your core. You felt the girth of his hot cock stretch you out, filling you perfectly. 

As soon as he was certain you were comfortable and ready, he set a loving, steady pace. The volume of your moans increased as he hit that special place over and over with each languid stroke. 

“Yeah? Does it feel good, hm?” his voice was breathy in your ear, toned arms securely wrapped around your waist. You nodded as his thrusts hit deeper, you could barely form any coherent sentences, feeling completely dazed from the immense pleasure you were receiving.

“Aww, princesa, you love being stuffed don't you..” Your cunt clenched around him, “Yeah, I think you do, tell me how much you love it.” He placed a hand on your throat, gently guiding your head to the side to look at him. His hair was disheveled and you swore his eyes wore primal resemblances. 

The words caught in your throat as the head of his fat cock continuously grazed against your cervix, “Come on, cariño, answer me when I'm talking to you y/n.” A particularly rough snap of his hips knocked the air out of your lungs, making it even harder for you to express your thoughts.

The sound of skin slapping and the constant plunging into your sopping cunt made Miguel’s head spin. 

His strokes got frenetic, erratic snaps of his hips against your own followed by deep groans and strangled noises. He was suddenly chasing his own high, buried in the warmth of your drenched cunt. Hungry for release, whilst also desperate to give you yours, he gently nipped and sucked at the skin on the curve of your neck, leaving occasional marks. 

You cried out as his fangs made contact, tearing through your tender flesh. You could feel your release starting to build up in the pit of your stomach as your husband kept hitting the perfect spot, thrusting relentlessly. 

He moved one hand down to play with your swollen clit, rubbing circles on the bundle of nerves with the coarse pads of his fingers. The tension in your stomach finally snapped with one last, quick thrust of his hips. He followed soon after, collapsing on your back before pulling out with a groan.

You turned over to cup his face, smiling when you saw his worn out expression. He smirked lazily and kissed your swollen lips, chanting the word mine in between sloppy kisses. “I guess this pussy officially belongs to me now.. I can have you quivering and trembling under me every night… mi bella esposa.” The beautiful smile that was plastered on his face carved itself into your mind, never to be forgotten.

His large, warm hand wandered down the plush skin of your thigh again, letting his fingers ghost over the material of the only piece of.. Clothing.. Left on your sweaty body.. Your garter. 

“Time to take care of this, hm?”

[stvharrngton]

kinktober: day twenty three

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

kink: window/balcony sex

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, unprotected p in v, sex on a balcony, old money!steve, r and steve just got married

word count: 0.9k

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @wheel-of-hyperfixation @mooonyweasley @steveshairspray @jjmaybankswifes-blog

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

The sun was setting, pretty pinks and oranges decorated the skyline of Rome, Italy. The streets below your hotel room bustled as cars drove by, twinkling light and street lamps flashing in the distance.

You sat on the balcony of your hotel room in a white satin robe, flute of champagne in hand, the warm breeze flowing through your still styled hair. Steve appeared behind you, his shirt unbuttoned with the bow tie undone, still snug under the collar and a pair of fitted black boxers still on. A cigarette in his mouth ready to light.

“Hey, beautiful,” he whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek before he lit the smoke in his mouth.

You hummed at the feeling of his lips on yours, your mind flashing back to having them on every inch of your body not even twenty minutes ago back in bed. You had eloped, the boy whisking you off to Italy to get married in private, something about not being able to stand the judgemental looks of his father as he married the woman he loved.

Steve spared no expense, as usual, only the finest treats and gifts for his girl. Your dress was glamourous, although abandoned long ago, the hotel the fanciest place you had ever seen. You watched him carefully as he took a seat in one of the comfy chairs on the balcony, his lips forming a pout as he blew the smoke from his cigarette.

He caught your eye, a smirk tugging at his lips, “What’s on your mind, love?” he asked.

“You,” you said nonchalantly with a giggle.

He nodded his head at you with his arms outstretched as he stubbed out his cigarette, urging you take your rightful place on his lap. You took your seat gladly, knees digging into the plush cushions either side of Steve’s hips.

His fingers came to mess with the belt that was tied at your waist, pulling lightly until the robe came undone with ease. The white satin barely covering your still naked body, the frilly garter still sitting snugly around your thigh, your sheer stockings dawning on your legs.

“What about me?” Steve breathed, his fingertips teasing your stiffening nipples over your robe. His tongue darting out to lick at his lips as his eyes raked over your body.

“Oh, just about getting you to myself for the rest of my life, Harrington. Not much.” You pursed your lips in a smirk, your body involuntarily leaning into his touch, pushing your chest out into Steve’s large palms.

“Mm,” Steve hummed, “can’t wait to show you off to everyone back home as the new Mrs. Harrington.”

The satin of the robe fell to the side as Steve began to pull your hips against him, letting his mouth wander to your tits, tongue circling the pert buds of your nipples. You keened at the feeling of his lips on you, not that it was the first time that night.

“But for now,” he started, warm brown eyes flitting up to you, “how ‘bout I show you off to everyfuckingone in Rome, hm? Bend you over this balcony and fuck you stupid?”

That’s where you found yourself now, your hands braced on the thick tan stone of the balcony, the hem of your robe fisted in Steve’s hand. His boxers were shoved down his thighs, just enough to free his cock from its confines. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your hip as he fucked his cock into you, nice and slow.

He’d sink into you to the hilt, his bush tickling the peach of your ass as he buried himself inside of you. Your warm, wet walls swallowing him whole, clenching around his length as you tried your best to keep quiet.

Steve had other plans for you, snaking a hand round to your front and up to your neck, his fingers pinching at your jaw. He started hitting in deeper, his hips grinding against your ass as he fucked you.

“Come on, honey, wanna hear you,” Steve breathed out, in between grunts and groans, “want everyone down on the street to hear how good Steve Harrington fucks his girl.”

His words made you mewl, keening as you moaned loudly. The way Steve was so casual with it, how the dirty words came so naturally to him made you go insane. Had your cheeks heating up and your pussy fluttering.

“Oh, Steve, fuck—,” you managed to stammer out, your heart racing and bubbling up into your throat. He had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your jaw slack as you inched closer to your orgasm.

You felt his lips on your neck, wet and sloppy as he breathed in your ear, his hips still rolling against yours. Not a care in the world.

“You like when I fuck you like this, baby? Like when I fuck you nice and deep, for the whole world to see? Fuck— could fuck this pretty little pussy all day long.”

Steve didn’t miss a beat, no stuttering or stammering, no skipping over his words. His thick cock stretching you out as his words swam around your brain. The guy in the next room to you, or below you could see and you wouldn’t care, Hell, the entire city of Rome could be watching, listening, and you couldn’t give a damn.

Not when Steve was fucking you like this.

[bleubrri]

you’ve found that celebrating toji’s birthday is close to impossible. you can make plans or try and surprise him, but 90% of the time your efforts are in vain, dissolved under a smug smirk and the sharp glint in his eye when he convinces you that he doesn’t need all that.

you can feel that same smirk against the crook of your neck at the first lavender tones of dawn.

“i’ll be right back.” you insist, but toji’s arms pull you back into his chest for the third time. you wriggle in his grasp, twisting and turning until you’re facing him, one hand bracing his bare chest. his eyes aren’t even open, and yet thick fingers are dipping into your underwear.

there’s already a noticeable burning in your thighs, an ache between your legs from how insatiable he’d been in the early hours of his birthday, and it has you gripping at his wrist. his groan vibrates against your palm.

you smile. you love how badly he wants you.

soft lips are pressed between his brows and you shuffle further from him. “i need 30 minutes.”

a beat of silence. “y’know ya don’t have to—”

“i want to.”

the hand on his chest wanders past the valley of his sternum, across taut abs. your nails scratch at the coarse hairs trailing below his navel and toy with his waistband. he groans again and you peck his lips. “30 minutes.” you say, slipping from the sheets.

you freshen up, press his favourite scent into the heat of your pulsepoints, slip into the set that he’d not so subtly been eyeing on your laptop. you pull on one of his t-shirts to leave something to the imagination—it sits at the top of your thighs, lacy garters and pastel bows peeking from beneath the fabric. just a taste, one you’ve no doubt will whet his appetite.

he gives you 15 minutes before silent footsteps graze the floorboards. toji stands in the doorway of the kitchen, darkened eyes raking over the plush of your thighs, the sweep of your neck, the flick of your wrist as you fuss over something in the frying pan.

you huff when lips meet your neck and toji presses himself behind you, your free hand snaking up to rake through tousled locks of his hair. “i said half an hour.” you mumble, trying to ignore the puffs of his breath against your skin.

“‘m keepin you company.”

you scoff, coming to terms with having to manoeuvre the kitchen with toji attached to you.

you’re plating up breakfast when large palms trail beneath your shirt. the callouses that kiss his skin catch slightly on the pale lace of your bra when he cups your chest, thumbing over a nipple.

“let’s do presents first.” he bargains, fingers curling under the feathery straps.

“am i not already your most prized possession?” you tease, arching a little and shuffling your feet back. toji huffs a laugh, intending to settle his hands on your ass, but the slight shake of his head against your shoulder has you pausing to turn to him.

“are you serious?!”

he scoffs, spinning you round. you’re peering up at him sceptically, apparently waiting on an explanation for your bruised ego.

his voice is low, almost gravel. “you’re not a possession, doll.” he thumbs at your lower lip. “i’m yours, and you’re mine. but ain’t no possession involved.” he shrugs, like it’s obvious.

you’re melting under his gaze. you think if gems could be imbued with magma, they still wouldn’t compare to the look of his eyes—so intense you think your bones might bubble and pool out at your feet.

there’s the beginnings of stubble when your hands cup his jaw, and for a second you fixate on the feeling of it between your thighs.

“you’re going soft on me, old man.”

he rolls his eyes and captures your lips, thumbs gripping your garters. you’re what’s turning him into a lovesick idiot, you both know it.

you kiss him slow, adoringly, pressing into his orbit and losing yourself in him. you peck his lips, his scar. his cut cheekbones and under his eyes. you crane to press your mouth to his temple and breathe him in.

“happy birthday, baby.”

[blurredcolour]

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

Summary: A last minute decision to layer lingerie under your suit for an end-of-the-work-week boost has unintended consequences that, honestly, none of you mind.

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Jake “Seresin” Hangman x Female Reader [Hangster x Female Reader Polyamorous Relationship – Established]

Warnings: Smut, Filth, No Plot, Reader Has an Office Job, Bottom Rooster, Mature/Explicit Themes [threesome – m/m/f, face-sitting – f receiving, manual stimulation – m/f receiving, anal sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, lube] – 18+ Only.

Credit: unknown

Word Count: 2383

A sigh fell from your lips as you missed the keyhole for the second time, lazily sliding the metal tip across the face of the deadbolt – a bad habit which drove Jake insane – but you were too tired, frustrated, and impatient to worry about that right now. The key slid home and you gratefully turned the lock, pushing the door open to your shared home, nearly tripping over a discarded pair of khaki pants.

Clearly you were not the only one suffering from impatience this evening. You tucked your shoes into the front hall closet, locking the front door behind you, before collecting the pants from the tiled entryway. Heading halfway up the stairs, you found the matching uniform shirt with the name tag ‘Bradshaw’ still neatly pinned above the right breast pocket. Sinking your teeth into your lower lip, you continued up the stairs and down the hall to the primary bedroom where they had left the door open. You leaned against the door frame, Rooster’s uniform cradled in your arms, your breath hitching in your throat as you were treated to the sight of Jake pinning Bradley’s hands above his head, pressing them into the mattress as he straddled his thighs. He leaned down to deliver a searing kiss against his lips, making the man beneath him arch his neck in delight.

The pair of them were always a sight to behold, both at the peak of physical perfection, with the confidence to match. Tonight, was no different; Bradley stripped bare and writhing beneath a still fully clothed Jake, the long light of the evening glowing against their tanned skin. And to your never-ending amazement they had folded you into their committed relationship. Jake’s purr of your name pulled you from the depth of your thoughts and you looked up quickly as Bradley sighed in relief.

“Thank fuck…”

“He’s been a wreck all day.” Jake clarified for you, brow furrowed in a display of mock sympathy as you dropped the discarded clothing in the hamper and stepped over to join him near the foot of the bed as he planted his feet on the hardwood there.

He snaked his arm around your waist as soon as you were within reach, leaning down to kiss you warmly in greeting as you raised up onto the balls of your feet to meet him eagerly. You pulled back and pouted down at Bradley’s heaving chest.

“Poor Rooster…” You teased, but there was a shade of guilt to your comment.

Afterall, it was your fault he was such a mess, cock standing heavy and proud against his abdomen, glistening with precum. You had needed a boost that morning, some motivation to put on your suit and go into the office one more day before the weekend could finally begin, and so you had fetched a set of lace lingerie from the top drawer in your dressing room across the hall. An ordinary bedroom originally, your boys had converted it into a space just for you and your things when you had finally agreed to move in with them.

You had just finished securing the clip of the left silk stocking to your garter strap when Bradley had wandered in, clad only in his boxes, toothbrush still dangling from his lips. You supposed he had been intending to ask a question, but the words had died in his mouth and a dollop of toothpaste froth had fallen onto his chest as he had stared openly. It had taken a concerted effort between yourself and Jake to get Rooster dressed, fed, and out the door on time that morning.

Once Bradley was waiting in the Bronco, however, Jake had taken a moment of his own to slide his hands beneath the skirt of your suit and skim his fingers across the lace hidden there.

“You will be the death of us.” He had parted from you with a firm squeeze to the fleshy globes of your ass before heading to the base with his very needy partner.

The lingerie had done its job, giving you the will to get dressed, the extra confidence at work, and something to look forward to once you got home.

“Sorry I’m so late, my boss called a last-minute meeting on this file.”

“Fuck that guy.” Rooster growled, raising up on his elbows to drink you in, eyes raking down your frame.

“Why would I waste my time doing that when I have you two waiting at home for me?” You licked your lips as you shrugged out of your suit jacket, tossing it in the general direction of the corner chair that tended to collect stray clothes – once again to Jake’s chagrin – before sliding onto the bed beside Bradley.

Cupping his cheek gently, you pressed your lips to his softly in greeting, gasping as he was interested in much more than simply welcoming you home, tongue licking at the seam of your lips and seeking yours heatedly as his hands pulled at your blouse.

Distantly, you heard Jake chuckle while your felt his fingers work at the zipper of your skirt, loosening the waistband so he could pull it over your hips and down your legs. Bradley was not making quite as much headway with your blouse, but his hands hand slipped beneath the fabric to cup your breasts through the lace of your lingerie. You moaned softly against his lips, fingers sliding into his hair eagerly.

The bed dipped behind you before Jake began to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. You craned your head to the side, eagerly offering the expanse of skin to him, sliding your leg back over his. You frowned against Bradley’s lips as the silk of your stocking met with the stiff khaki of his uniform pants rather than the defined muscle of his calf. Pecking Rooster’s lips softly, you carefully turned in his arms to face Jake, your hands reaching out to begin remove the offending fabric; no more than a barrier between your touch and his skin at this point.

As you worked at the buttons of his shirt, Jake took advantage of your new position to work your blouse off properly, finishing the work Bradley had started. Bradley, meanwhile, was inflicting delicious torment on the column of your throat while his hands delved between your thighs. He hummed in delight as he found the lace covering your folds damp with arousal, clearly pleased he was not the only one suffering.

Suddenly, unbuckling Jake’s belt seemed like an insurmountable task, your fingers clumsy as Bradley’s skillfully delved beneath the thin fabric, lazily tracing along your slit to collect your arousal before the pad of his index finger grazed your clit at last. You whimpered needily as your hips jerked forward, seeking more friction, while your hands yanked Jake’s belt open ruthlessly. He nipped your lip in response.

“Rooster’s got you now, hasn’t he, pretty girl.” He drawled against your jaw, and you nodded sharply.

“Fuck…” You whined as Bradley began circling your bundle of nerves, his cock pressing insistently at the cleft of your ass as he nipped and sucked along your shoulder.

The rasp of his mustache against your skin had you shivering and drew your nipples into stiff peaks against the lace covering your breasts. Jake licked his lips, pupils expanding to devour the green of his irises at the sight before him. Bowing his head to seal his lips over one tender point, he sucked a damp spot though the fabric. Your eyes rolled back in your head for a moment, all focus lost in a haze of pleasure.

The brief moment of clarity afforded to you when Jake turned his attentions to your other nipple was just enough to have you redoubling your efforts, opening his fly and sliding your hand into his pants. You began to palm his neglected cock through his boxer briefs as Bradley sank a finger into your wet heat, causing you to rock your hips back against his length eagerly. A chorus of moans filled the bedroom.

“Lift your leg for me pretty girl” Bradley murmured huskily against your ear, and you nodded, breaths falling thickly from your lips as you raised your top leg to tuck it behind his calves, providing him better access.

A second finger promptly joined the first, your head hanging forward until Jake slid up obligingly to kiss you deeply. You keened eagerly at the taste of him as his tongue invaded your mouth, spurring your hand into action past the waistband of his underwear to wrap around his length, fist stroking along him in time with the thrust of Rooster’s fingers.

Jake was still far too clothed but laying on his side and with you under Rooster’s onslaught, there was no way you were getting his undershirt over his head, so you settled for sliding your free hand along his skin beneath the white fabric, reveling in the twitch of his muscles in response to your touch.

“Fuck I wanna taste you, pretty girl…” Rooster whined, teeth running along the shell of your ear. “Can you sit on my face?”

Pulling your lips back from Jake’s you looked into his green eyes. “What does Jake want?”

“I just need to be inside somebody…” He swallowed visibly, voice rough and Texas drawl thickened by arousal.

“Does Rooster deserve a treat for his suffering?”

There was a ragged moan behind you in response that had both you and Jake grinning.

“Rooster in the middle it is.” You murmured, the three of you carefully disentangled your bodies to leave Bradley in place on the bed while you fully stripped Jake.

After draping his clothing over the chair, you started to remove at least some of your lingerie, but Jake quickly set his hands over yours.

“You look far too pretty to take that off, I’m sure Rooster can slide whatever he needs to out of the way?”

You looked over to Bradley who nodded emphatically, making your skin heat up.

“Far too pretty.” He concurred.

“Pretty as a picture.” Jake affirmed and took your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, delivering a knee-weakening kiss before guiding you up onto the bed to straddle Rooster’s face.

While the feel of Bradley’s mustache against your clit was transcendent, you chose to face the foot of the bed this evening, drinking in the sight of Jake as he came to stand between Rooster’s thighs with the bottle of lube. You wobbled slightly as Bradley pulled the fabric aside, licking a broad stripe along your folds with his warm tongue, having nothing to brace yourself against. He paused to ask if you were all right and you quickly affirmed you were, clenching your thighs to better prepare as he resumed his attentions.

Whimpers and praises fell from your lips as his lips sought your clit, lapped at your slick, circled your entrance. As Jake began to work Bradley open, he moaned raggedly beneath you, making you slump forward to plant your hands against his chest and grind against his chin slightly. Eyes locked on yours, Jake gradually added two, and then three fingers to Bradley’s silky warmth, stretching and readying him to take his cock, while he indulgently stroked his own length with his free hand.

“Like what you see, pretty girl?” Jake grinned lopsidedly.

“Uhn…you know I do…Hungman…” You bit you lip as his nostrils flared, his grip tightening on his cock briefly before he pulled his fingers from Rooster. There was a whine against your clit at the loss.

Adding a generous coating of lube to his cock, Jake shifted forward to sink slowly into Bradley’s warmth, making his head fall back from your cunt with a ragged moan. You watched avidly as Jake’s eyelids fluttered shut, his chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths. He slowly pulled his hips back only to rock forward once more, both men groaning hungrily at the sensation.

Bradley seemed too far gone, his task all but forgotten with each thrust of Jake’s hips, the only sensation between your thighs was pants and whimpers as he clung to your hips.

“Pretty girl come here…” Jake slowed his hips and beckoned you closer.

Mindful of Bradley’s limbs, you crawled down his body into Jake’s arms. He ushered you to turn your back to his chest, pulling your lingerie aside and guided Rooster’s cock into your entrance. Your head fell back against Jake’s shoulder as you cursed thickly at the stretch of his length inside you as you sank down onto generous length. Likewise, Bradley groaned your name and dug his fingers into your thighs, grinding up against you as best he could while impaled on Jake’s cock.

“Heaven…” He ground out.

“Uh huh….” You agreed, turning your head to brush your lips against Jake’s in gratitude before stretching forward along Bradley’s chest to allow Jake to resume his thrusts.

Each snap of Jake’s hips against Rooster’s had you rocking forward against his pelvis, grinding your clit against his neatly kempt body hair. Jake gripped your left shoulder in one hand and Bradley’s right bicep with the other, driving the three of you closer and closer the climax with each thrust as a sheen of sweat coated your intermingled bodies in the fading light of the evening.

“Fuck, Jake…”

“Bradley, you’re so tight…”

“Oh christ, yes…”

“Please…don’t stop…”

“Pretty girl I’m gonna fill that pretty cunt…”

Bradley’s warning had you clenching around him involuntary, sending him spiraling into orgasm with a harsh shout of your name as he filled you with hot ropes of cum, his cheeks flushed pink with pleasure, eyes clenched shut.

You shuddered at the sight and feel of his climax, arching your back with an anguished moan of your own as he pulled you under, your muscles spasming around him tightly. Jake huffed behind you, increasing the pace of his thrusts before he swore rather creatively, hips undulating as he wrung every drop of release from his body.

Once everyone was cleaned up and nestled into bed, Rooster still in pride of place in the middle grinning up at the ceiling in a haze of satiated exhaustion, Jake lifted his head to meet your eyes over Bradley’s sun-kissed, chestnut curls.

“Lingerie every Friday?”

With The Three of Us Masterlist

[snake-spotted]

watching a wandering garter snake trying to catch fish in a nature documentary and I must say, I am enthralled (and rooting for the wiggle ofc)

[mountrainiernps]

When you think of what animal you might see in our national park during your next visit, what animal do you picture?

Is it a large grazing animal like an elk or black-tailed deer?

Or a tiny rodent like the Townsend’s chipmunk or hoary marmot?

Maybe a bird like the Clark’s nutcracker or American dipper?

Perhaps you thought of a snake?

Our beautiful mountain is home to a number of snakes but the ones most commonly seen are garter snakes. Common, northwestern, and wandering garter snakes have all been spotted in the national park. Most often seen along trails or roads where the little snakes have gone to warm up from a cold night, these little reptiles are every bit at home here as all the other animals mentioned above.

Now you might be wondering, how does a cold-blooded animal live on a mountain known for long, snowy winters?

A reptile form of hibernation called brumation is the answer. They seek out a crevice, tunnel, burrow, or hole where they can spend the winter out of the ice and cold. Most often these solitary animals will curl up with other snakes. Together, they form into a ball to prevent heat loss and try to keep their bodies warmer. They slow down their metabolism and barely eat or drink. If a warm day does come along, they might take advantage of it and go out to a sunny rock for a warm up.

Mostly harmless to humans, garter snakes are tough little reptiles making their home on the mountain. Where have you seen them while visiting the park? ~ams

More information on reptiles in the national park can be found here  https://www.nps.gov/mora/learn/nature/reptiles.htm

These photographs are from years past and do not reflect current conditions. NPS Photo. Snake among moss and rocks in the Carbon River area. NPS Photo. Snake on small road in forest of the Longmire area.

[jwenvs3000w24]

Final Blog: Beliefs of a Nature Interpreter

Hey everyone, welcome back! This will be my final blog post and I just wanted to take a quick second to thank everyone for reading my thoughts and ideas and I wanted to say it was a wonderful time! I really enjoyed seeing all your opinions about my thoughts and I hope to see them one last time in this post! Stay strong, protect the natural world around you, and keep exploring! As always I hope you enjoy my thoughts and pictures.

Nature is such an important part of everyone's life, and must be preserved at all costs. However, to some nature is more than just an escape. It’s a calling. I believe that every little thing in nature is worth saving, protecting, and maintaining its beauty. In the class content it said, “we can create nature-rich communities where kids feel a deep and abiding love for the living systems that we are all immersed in” (Hooykaas, 2024), and this quote really stuck with me because I believe that every person in this world should be given the ability to establish their own special bond with the natural world around them. I believe the preservation of nature should be of the utmost importance because if the natural world changes too much there may not be any of the same things that we hold dear left to explore, and without it so many people would be left confused and unsure where to wander. I believe it is also extremely important to teach others, especially the younger generations how very important it is to maintain the beauty of what can occur when humans do not manipulate the environment. I also believe it is important to not interfere with natural occurrences that you might stumble across no matter how disturbing, awkward, or sad it may be. For example, last summer I came across many different animals doing various things from water snakes mating to a garter snake eating to a family of beavers building a damn under a dock, of course I tried to take pictures if I could, but not a chance would I get too close or startle the animals due to the slightest chance of it messing with their routine.

This is a collage of a few things I’ve witnessed while out exploring nature. Top left is a shaggy mane mushroom, top right is a member of the beaver family that was creating a dam, bottom left is a garter snake attempting to eat an earthworm, and the bottom right is a very large wolf spider that was just hanging around.

Being an nature interpreter is a role that must help others explore aspects of nature that they wouldn’t have thought to look at. Nature interpreting is so much more than simply a job. As I said before it’s a calling, a passion, a craving for exploration, and bringing what is unknown into the light for other people to be in the know. Nature interpreters have some of the largest responsibilities for the future. They hold the responsibility of being storytellers for future generations. They won’t just say facts about nature because that is not what gets people, more importantly kids, interested in the natural world. Kids are interested in video games and have simulations of nature, however, it is the responsibility of nature interpreters to tell exciting and eccentric stories that get them wanting and willing to go out and experience it for themselves (Boeckel, 2015). It is also the responsibility of the interpreter to be well-prepared, insightful, and communicate efficiently and in an appropriate manner depending on the audience that they are attending to. It is also the responsibility of the interpreter to, while telling the stories, make sure that everyone who is listening knows how important even the smallest thing in an ecosystem is all the way down to the small twig/branch the kids may want to pick up and play with. 

This was a location that we visited called Overhanging point (name is kinda self explanatory) during a guided hike. This was carved out by glacial ice movement.

As an individual it may seem difficult at times to think that what you say has an impact on the overall scheme of things, but there are many things that one person can do that can change and pull so many more people in. As it says in the textbook, find a way to articulate your ideas and points in a relevant, creative, and caring manner because that is what draws the attention of others (Beck, Cable, and Knudson, 2018). There are many ways to engage groups of people, and some effective ways are: holding interactive presentations for specific topics, creating a podcast that can appeal to younger and older audiences with many games such as guess the bird call, or guess that animal by the description, guided hikes are also a good tool to pique the interest of the more outdoorsy type of person, and sometimes even simple blogs like this one is an effective tool for getting ideas across to a very significant amount of different people. I know from personal experience that the two most effective ways to reach me with different information is an interactive presentation, or a guided hike. These two speak to me the most because I find them the most useful for engaging people. Guided hikes are a very nice way of exploring the wilderness because not only do you get to be out in nature, but you are able to hear the backstories of all the caves, rock formations, or anything that you may come across during the hike. However, each person has a different way of engaging with nature.

That’s all I have on my mind for now, and I hope everyone enjoyed my thoughts this time, and I hope you have all enjoyed my previous posts too! I had a wonderful time sharing my opinions and thoughts over the past months. I am looking forward to everyone's replies and ideas of their own. 

Beck, L., Cable, T.T., and Knudson, D.M. (2018). Interpreting cultural and natural heritage: For a Better World. Sagamore Publishing. 

Boeckel, J.v. (2015). At the heart of art and earth: an exploration of practices in arts-based environmental education. Envir. Edu. Research. 21 (5), 801-802. https://doi-org.subzero.lib.uoguelph.ca/10.1080/13504622.2014.959474

Hooykaas, A. (2024). Unit 10: Nature Interpretation’s Role in Environmental Sustainability. University of Guelph. https://courselink.uoguelph.ca/d2l/le/content/858004/viewContent/3640024/View.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

I have to know. Do the fauximorphs from A-Town have battle morphs and if so, what are they?

Battle morphs, you say. Battle morphs. Oh no, there are never six exotic animals onscreen at the same time. For that matter, there are never two exotic animals onscreen at the same time. There is sometimes a lion. There is a German Shepherd that has been dyed to look like a coyote. Sometimes we are told after the fact that the lion was Trina in morph; sometimes we're told it was Liam. The coyote is Gina's favored morph, except for all the times it was Brandon in coyote morph. At one point the same stock footage of a wolf running past the camera plays six times in a row, and the thought-speak voiceover tries to convince us that this is six separate wolf morphs.

Other ways the show gets around the fact that all its animals have to be a) stock footage, b) tame, or c) That One Lion We Pay $2500 an Hour to Wander Around Our Sets:

Crystal often shows up to battles as a horse. Why she chooses horse over wolf is unclear.

At one point J.J. flings out an arm and yells "Poison attack!" and a controller extra falls over dead. The camera cuts back to J.J., who is now holding what is clearly a garter snake that was meant to have come out of his sleeve.

Brandon's favored battle morph is... Mopsy. The 15-lb dog. We're told he's defeated many hork-bajir-controllers in this shape, although this is of course never shown onscreen.

For that matter, Liam is sometimes on the phone with a hork-bajir friend, but we never see the other side of the conversation and he has a line lamenting that he never got her permission to morph her.

Liam-the-parakeet is sometimes an actual parakeet that's been added to a fight (usually by having the bird land on an extra's head, followed by the extra pretending to be grievously injured). But there are also loads of times when Gina and J.J. just go "Look up in the sky! It's Liam!" and we just have to take their word for it.

Whether or not guinea pigs count as exotic animals, the general consensus is that the guinea pig in a tiny skunk costume is Gina's most adorable battle morph.

For that matter, the script strongly implies that Gina isn't human, and she's in morph during all of her onscreen appearances. But we never see her out of morph, and she often goes straight from human shape to some other morph. Gina's True Form is thus the subject of infinite fandom speculation, from the boring explanations (she's obviously meant to be an andalite) to the canny ones (Marco thinks she's a chee) to the sweet ones (she's a deserter yeerk Liam rescued) to the buckwild ones (her original form cannot appear before humans without driving them mad).

[nostalgicamerica]

True story:

Back more decades than I care to count my folks uprooted the family from Minneapolis and moved us all to Northern Michigan. Talk about culture shock!

From city lights to country roads. From skyscrapers to outhouses. From a city of millions to a small town of less than 500.

I was about 8 or 9 so I didn't know anything or care that I didn't know anything.

Anyway, Mom and Dad and 13 kids set up shop in a dinky little town and, once the fights were out of the way (I don't know why, but all of the boys - and some of the girls - who were my friends in my childhood I had to fight first.) life was mostly bucolic and serene.

This was before cable TV and computers. My folks didn't even own a television set back then (televisions existed then - my folks just liked to torture us kids by not getting one). Despite the lack of electronics, I don't recall being bored. I do know that if I complained about having nothing to do, Mom was quick to find a chore from her infernal chore list to occupy my time. I was a fairly quick study when it came to avoiding work, and kept any periods of boredom to myself.

One summer morning, my younger brother and I decided we would see who could catch the most snakes. Don't ask why. The 'why' never occurred to us so you shouldn't bother with such trivialities either.

Catching snakes was easy. Especially the Garter Snakes and Copper Bellies that slithered around where we lived. You'd just wander around fields and lift any cover and - especially on hot days - like as not there would be a snake or two. A quick grab behind the head and into the sack.

They are not venomous and most of them wouldn't even bite. The bigger snakes could put a couple of puncture wounds in your hand, but I hardly noticed the bites.

At the end of the hunt my brother and I met up to compare the haul. Numbers escape me. Maybe he caught 15 and I had 12. It doesn't matter; we had close to 30 snakes and we couldn't just let them go. But what to do with them?

We were young and stupid but we knew enough to know bringing them in the house could result in very bad things happening. We could easily foresee heinie whackings or groundings or more chores if our mom found them or if they got away in the house.

We wracked our brains to find a solution when we had the brilliant idea to keep them in the worm box in the basement. Perfect.

An older brother had a less than thriving business picking and selling nightcrawlers to local fishermen and kept his product in a worm box in the cellar. He had lots of worms but few customers and mostly, I think, forgot he even had the business.

The worm box was huge; it was at least 6 feet long, 3 feet high, and 3 deep. Imagine a poorly made coffin. It was painted a light blue and sat in the back of the basement in the darkest, coolest spot. It was about half filled with dirt and worms.

While, technically, the basement was a part of the house, we reasonably reasoned as only young boys can; snakes can't climb and they certainly can't navigate stairs. What do they say about experience being the best instructor?

Satisfied with the solution, we dumped our catch in the box, closed the lid and went off to see whatever it was the evening had in store for us.

The next few days were a repeat. Wake up, chores, beat feet for the creek to cool off and then a snake hunt. A new friend, Skunk, joined us on one of the days.

By the time of the great snake escape, we probably had close to 100 snakes in the worm box. It was hard to judge because they would not stay still for a count, and - I can't speak for my brother - my ability to count decreased dramatically once I got past twenty. Twenty-one if I were naked.

It is disputed to this day how the snakes got out. I think somebody left the lid ajar, my brother asserts they just found a hole. It doesn't matter now, and it didn't matter then. The only thing that mattered is that a mob of snakes made a break for it.

If the snakes had done the logical thing and gone out the door leading outside there would have been no problem. But, no. They went in every possible direction and we learned that, yes, snakes can climb stairs.

I was reading a book in our room. Tom Sawyer, maybe, or Moby Dick, perhaps? Regardless of what I was reading, I was yanked from the plot by a sister's screams coming from the kitchen.

A sister's screams may be differentiated by volume and pitch. A shrill, piercing warble could mean anything from, "Somebody ate the muffin I was saving for later." to "A serial killer is breaking in the front door." On the other hand, a shriek that can decalcify your spinal column from one floor away can be loosely translated as, "My goodness, there appear to be a great number of snakes writhing around in the kitchen."

It sounded like banshees were running amok. Pots and pans were crashing, Mom was yelling, the dog was barking, and I could hear Dad laughing.

Though it was already dark outside, my brother and I slipped out of our window and managed to make it to ground level without breaking anything and beat feet for the creek.

-

Suffice it to say, upon our return, my brother and I had our backsides paddled. While I wasn't a fan of spankings, I just stoically accepted them as consequences for whatever it was that I had done.

For the next day or so Mom could hardly turn around without a Garter snake asking her to dance, and every time, Mom reflexively swatted whatever child was closest, even those who had nothing to do with the snakes running amok in the house. She was frazzled and harried and at her wits ends.

The worst of it was a few days later when she had a group of local ladies over for coffee and nisu. We had only been in town a few months and Mom was going out of her way to make friends.

Apparently (fortunately, my brother and I weren't there) the ladies were settled in the living room, trading gossip, nibbling on various Finnish confectionaries, and listening to Mom's Verdi and Rossini record albums when a garter snake decided emerge from under the couch.

The snake, perhaps just hungry for Mom's korvapuusti, or looking for the elusive exit, slid up on Mrs. Pelkkanen's shoe to have a look or maybe join in the conversation. One of the ladies across the room spotted the snake and tried to sound the alarm, sucked a piece of nisu into her throat and began to choke. She began coughing and trying to point as the lady next to her began pounding on her back in an effort to dislodge the obstruction.

At that point, another lady screamed, not bothering to point, which set off other ladies screaming for no particular reason.

The snake, apparently insulted at the less than cordial welcome, proceeded to slither across Mom's area rug towards possible freedom.

Mom was so incensed at the snake's cheeky gall she jumped up to get rid of the serpent but stumbled into the coffee table, spilling the coffee pot all over Mrs. Suuri's white skirt, and flipped the tray of treats across the room. Mom began snarling at the snake and spitting with ineffectual rage.

Fortunately, my oldest sister, keeping her wits about her, grabbed the broom and brusquely swept the garter into the dust pan and deposited the snake outdoors, which was all it wanted in the first place.

When calm was restored, the ladies were all laughing about the unusual entertainment and Mom had made several fast friends. Even Mrs. Suuri was mollified when Mom offered to clean her skirt, or replace it if cleaning didn't work.

If Mom was grateful for our assistance in expanding her social circles she had a strange way of showing it.

For the next two days my brother and I were required to pull every piece of furniture from each room, one room at a time, certify the room was snake-free, and replace the furnishings.

Without bothering to inform Mom, we found about a half-dozen snakes in various locations which were all set free in the garden.

[pinkhairedlily]

Haruno Sakura was full of contradictions. 

The same gentle hands that heal can shatter a body’s innards in one punch. Delicate, spring features — rose and jade — a front to her loudmouth tendencies. A lonely girl surrounded by friends and family.

Sasuke wished he could stay next to her and never leave.

She hated snakes. 

Mostly because of Orochimaru. And the cursed mark seal. And how it took him away from her when youth was a folly.

She made sure of it when he tried to coax a friend of Aoda to slither next to her on the forest floor, a harmless garter snake which almost mimics the green of her eyes. It took a while before she truly saw it. The thing moved through the undergrowth and broke its camouflage in the verdant blades of the grass. Sasuke almost felt the warmth and softness of her ankle when she drove the kunai into the snake’s head.

Pitiful.

She broke down after seeing the dotted blood on the leaves. Hacking sobs and wheezing breaths punctuated the silence of the canopy. He can hear her grief just like how the roots of century old trees drink her tears. The sight seemed foreign to Sasuke. After the war, Sakura never let anyone have a glimpse of her vulnerability or her indecisiveness or her fragility. Only to him did she show her soul, bared in all its naked honesty.

The garter snake disappeared quickly while Aoda spewed profanities. Sasuke only smirked in half satisfaction, half relief.

“And you’re wasting precious remaining time on this nonsense!” It was the last of Aoda’s admonitions to him. The fondness of a summon towards its master peeked through during that moment; they needn’t say more. 

Later on, he would send out his favorite hawks. They were familiar with her scent and she with them. At first, it was a reunion, a denial, and she welcomed them like a distant memory coming alive in front of her. She’d give them pecks on top of their heads, and they would ruffle their feathers to hide the embarrassment. She’d laugh — it always sounded like stardust — and then she’d give them treats. 

But when they kept coming in with empty talons, the memories started fading away and she resorted to ignoring them. Now, they were just birds perching on the open window of her office, interested in all the shiny things on the one side of her desk. A crystal pen. A snowball paperweight. Sasuke’s hitai-ate.

He thought she’d give this cat away. Fuwa, a black domestic short-haired, had wandered into her unit one stormy night with a gouged eye. It scratched her when she tried petting it, but she didn’t stop until she managed to heal it. She was covered in deep claw-induced lacerations and bite marks, but she was happy.

“You’re just like him,” she told Fuwa who slowly made his way to rub his damp head against her palm. “You’re…just…like…Sasuke-kun.”

That night, she slept with the cat cradled in her arms. He soaked it in — all of her warmth, her languid breath, the length of her limbs, the vibration of her snores, the feel of her hair — before he finally went away.

After all, a soul can only linger for at most one hundred days on Earth, and then it was time to cross over. Sasuke wished he could stay for one hundred years more. 

He felt himself fading little by little, his connections to otherworldly creatures fraying. Today Sasuke was just a passing breeze attempting to hold Sakura’s hand in the middle of the market. She stopped by a plant vendor and eyed a pot of camellias.

“That one please.” The ring he hastily made on his deathbed glinted against the sifting sunshine. He never had the chance to marry her, but she wore it like they did.

The plant vendor came back and gave her a different pot, still a camellia, but this one had a budding flower.

“Beautiful,” Sakura whispered.

She carefully secured it in the crook of her arm while the other hand stretched out its fingers. It was an unconscious tick, a fading remnant of what once was, when another hand would clasp and fill the spaces, and they would walk together through the crowd.

Sasuke held her hand even if he was merely a gust of wind. Standing next to her like this was his only wish. 

He could do it forever. He would like to do it forever.

But it was time to go.

Haruno Sakura was full of contradictions. The same gentle hands that heal can shatter a body’s innards in one punch. Delicate, spring features — rose and jade — a front to her loudmouth tendencies. A lonely girl surrounded by friends and family. The other half of her heart still beating while the other half died.

[scarlet-cavern]

Welcome to Scarlet Cavern!

This is an rp askblog, anon stays on as long as you behave. Things to expect from this blog:

Casual discussion

Mentions and discussion of:

vore (all types)

voyeurism / exhibitionism

sexual acts

sadism / masochism

death

drugs (both fantastical and real)

General roleplay

Art (commissioned and fanart)

Everything will be properly tagged; if you want us to tag something extra let us know! We reserve the right to decline and if such a thing happens you are free to block us.

Tag list:

In character: #cave talk

Out of character: #mountain talk

Content warnings: cw [content] (warnings will not be censored)

Character tags will just be names

Art: #art tag (until we think of something better)

Asks: #scarlet letters

Cast below the readmore! (reference images are a work in progress)

Main Cast

Porphyria aka phy, phyr (all pronouns)

Species: Old dragon Height: 2'2"-12' (quadrupedal) 6'1" (bipedal) Occupation: Old dragon Likes: helping, niche music genres, socializing Dislikes: bare skin, hate, noisy adventurers Interests: indulging my partners~ mostly vore (pred) and knotting

Jade (he/they)

Species: Jackalope w/ shattered antlers Height: in the ballpark of 2' i wanna say? are we counting ears Occupation: Aromamancer Likes: cool drinks, writing, magic Dislikes: filth, rain, ignorance Interests: aphrodisiacs, vore(prey), and making an absolute mess of my partners both inside and out~

eli (it/its)

Species: stoat Height: stoat Occupation: thief Likes: teasing, spicy food, annoying people Dislikes: boredom? thats about it tho Interests: masochism

Velvet (he/him, or she/her if permitted)

Species: Plague Cat. Height: 3'9", quadrupedal. Occupation: Card-counting gambler, bartender, and scoundrel.~ Likes: Clubs and bars, sweet alcoholic drinks, and low lights. Dislikes: Loud streets, hot days, and lasagna. Interests: I love my lays either terrified into submission, or overconfident to a fault. It's either one or the other with me, trust.~

Secondary Cast

Eliza (she/her)

Species: Garter snake folk Height: 5'5" Occupation: Editor for the Landering Wanderer Likes: Mechanics, Tea, Snuggling Dislikes: Coffee, Teasing, Artichoke Interests: Mostly vanilla, submissive. The occasional voring, and I do own a strap-on that sees use every so often.

Chai (he/they)

Species: Goat folk w/ shattered horns Height: 5'8" Occupation: Adventuring Likes: dice & roleplaying games, seafood, company Dislikes: authority, metallic smells, tight clothing Interests: exhibitionism, musk, and sex toys, of which i enjoy sharing around the cave.

Maddie (she/her)

Species: mouse folk Height: 6.2" Occupation: stonesmith and geomancer (contractor) Likes: mechanics, coffee, a hard day's work Dislikes: tea, dancing, being carried when i didn't ask Interests: none. leave me outta that

[cat-and-cazio]

New animal magic fanasy

So I've created a new world building project where reptiles, birds, wolves, and cats (that also includes wild cats such as cougars and bobcats) can do magic. Here's the Legend of the Dirty Paws, the first story I've written with thos world .

The Legend of the Dirty Paws

It all started two hundred years ago, with a cougar named Mashee. Unsatisfied with the way of life in her village, she broke off from the animal groups with three others, each from a different group. The wolf was named Alais, the bird, a falcon, was named Falef, and the reptile, a garter snake, was named Darkling. Together they wandered the woods, convincing others to join their cause. Eventually it twisted into something else, where they would get others to join them only under threat of death. Their cause was righteous, but the execution was wrong. One day, the Bringers, as they called themselves, decided to attack a meeting of the animal groups and destroy the peace bonds between the groups, hoping to unite all animals under the Bringer banner. In the actual attack, many were badly hurt. Fortunately, the only one at the meeting they managed to kill was the mockingbird translator. At that moment, the Bringers became a genuine threat. Everyone started calling them the Dirty Paws, as they had gotten blood of many innocent animals on their fur, scales, and feathers. No one was safe in the Wild Hunting Woods. All of the animal groups began to starve. Eventually, a feline voluntary outcast named Kasiel worked with several reptiles to bring down Mashee and the Dirty Paws. The reptiles in question were Firefly, a timber rattlesnake, Ladybird, a mediterranean house gecko, and Swallowtail, a bullsnake. The four of them were vastly outnumbered, but Firefly managed to seek out Mashee and bite her. Mashee died about an hour later, and then, no one had to live in fear.

Now, someone's trying to bring them back.