The furious scuttling in the darkness. The sound of slicing shears. A brief rush of wind, then all becomes still. The presence you just felt is no longer there, gone in a second. The only evidence of its passing is the damage it leaves behind, cut up clothing, shredded nets and, most notably, missing hair. Folks rarely see the creature responsible for these encounters, but they all know it by name: the Kamikiri. Though it moves like a shadow in the night, it is not a species that is feared, rather it brings annoyance, anger and usually a fair amount of property damage.

The Kamikiri is a terrestrial crustacean that is found in coastal places, or areas that reside close to water bodies. Be it rivers, lakes or ocean, that is enough to satisfy the needs of the Kamikiri. Though it possesses the many legs usually found in crustaceans, the adults have turned to a quadrupedal state, with the rest reduced down to nubs only used for gripping and traction. Though they only use four limbs, they are still just as fast and agile, darting about with incredible speed. This posture has also caused people to misidentify the origins of this species, often thinking them a kind of terrestrial bird or such. What helps give this impression is their beak-like face, which is actually composed of their numerous mouth parts. A hooked beak and dark coloration can make people think it a raven or some other black bird, as their quickness also makes it hard to get a good look. If they saw that mouth go to work on its food, or used for cleaning, you would see how it splits and jitters as all the parts and pieces go to work. Perhaps the best indication that this may be a crustacean and not a corvid, is the large claws on their forelimbs. Bent to help with walking and hooked to let it snag prey, these tools are vital to every Kamikiri. It is easy to say that this species wouldn't be nearly as notable if it were not for these nasty pincers! Though they may be small compared to the weaponry of other beasts, like a male Teketeke, their razor sharp edge and rapid slicing will quickly change any mind. It seems like anything that isn't metal is snipped through with ease, with them being able to cut through leather, rope, flesh and small to somewhat small bones. It slices through materials so quickly that folk rarely notice them cutting until the damage is done. There will just be a faint *snip* and then your netting is in tatters, or your clothes are missing pieces, or perhaps your found yourself with a brand new, unwanted, haircut.   Before we go more into that, we should mention that these claws are also used in hunting. Their cutting power is perfect for slicing through prey and chopping them up into manageable bites. Though their weapon is potent, it is often turned towards smaller creatures, like rodents, frogs, fish, lizards and other critters. Kamikiri are active at night, using their black coloration to blend into the darkness. They lurk in the shadows, then move in a flash when they find the perfect moment to attack. One quick snip of their claws and their prey is doomed. Smaller creatures are cut in half, while larger prey will have limbs severed to keep them from escaping or fighting back. Once their food is downed, they carve them up and enjoy. For aquatic prey, they tend to hang around the shores or find downed objects like logs or brush to stand on. They then remain still as a statue, with their large eyes focused on the water in front of them. When something tasty gets close, they lash out with their claws and fillet them. Their prize is seized in their beak-like mouth and they scurry back to solid land to feed. Those who wish to steal their meal or turn them into one should think twice, as they won't hesitate to turn their claws on them. They click and snap their mouths in agitation, and loudly grind their claws to show they mean business. When faced with larger foes, they will use their flexible abdomen as a kickstand, rising up on their back legs to add some height. Test them, and you will lose fingers or maybe the tip of your nose. They cut so fine that you probably won't even notice that they got you until you notice a chunk of you lying on the ground.   I mentioned that they don't just cut up prey, but also go after some random everyday objects. That is because Kamikiri are fond of both collecting things and nest building (more traits that get them confused with birds). Kamikiri build themselves nests in brush, burrows and even trees, used for resting, wooing mates and protecting their eggs. While other species may be fine with random twigs and grass, the Kamikiri like to decorate and get a nice look going. Bright colored fruits or pretty rocks may make an appearance, and several of them will squabble and fight over a shiny trinket. Those with a better, fancier nest will win over the ladies, and show that they would be a good father for their young. Even after securing a mate, their new partner will have their own decoration ideas and may make some changes, thus leading to two Kamikiri now seeking fresh materials. These eager home decorators once scoured the shores and underbrush for the perfect addition, but now they have better places to shop. The settling of the land and building of towns and trade opened up a whole new marketplace for this species, with a whole slew of new materials and pretty objects. People in colorful gowns and robes, homes filled with endless goodies, and a nonstop parade of fresh imports to change things up. This introduction of new fronts for this species has drastically changed them, as they now want the materials that only humans and such can provide. So now they scurry through the night to snip off pieces of textiles, mesh and cloth, vanishing into the night with their new prize. Obviously, this cause quite the fuss, as people don't like their property being carved up. Even worse that the Kamikiri have grown bold, going after stuff that is still on one's person. They will slice the legs off of pants, or trim the edges of kimonos while they are still being worn, moving so fast that they are gone before people even notice. A part of the reason why they have become so brave going after people, is that one of their most favorite materials can only be gained from man's own body: hair.

When it comes to nest building, there is nothing the Kamikiri love more than hair. It is a must-have to stuff around their eggs, used for cushioning and warming, but also as a deterrent. Hair in such amounts can actually be dangerous to other animals, who may get tangled or caught in this surprisingly tough material. For the hard-shelled, razor-clawed Kamikiri, it is not threat, as they can cut themselves free anytime. It is perfect for their nests, but it isn't an easy material to come by. To obtain this prized piece, they must cut it from a human, and they rarely like having their hair done by animals. So they use surprise and speed to lop off locks and buns, even leaping through the air to get a opening. They may cling to trees and dangle from the branches, or sneak in at night and trim the head of a sleeping fellow. These incidents cause quite a fright, especially if one catches them in the act. Freaking out while they are cutting is an easy way to get slashed up, especially if you choose fight over flight. These incidents are what make these creatures pests to most, and it turns out they aren't any better when they are young.   From the eggs of a Kamikiri comes their larval stage, one that has not developed the quadruped look yet. They posses the claws, but not the back legs, rather keeping with the many rows of crawling limbs. Once they hatch, they scurry their way to the nearest water source and dive in. Their young are more amphibious by nature, moving between water and land to avoid predators from both worlds. Due to their appearance and different lifestyle, they have gained a different name from their adult counterparts: Amikiri. Amikiri are larval Kamikiri, and they spend most their lives in shallows. They go after bugs, fish, amphibians, worms and mollusks, still using those sharp claws for offense and defense. Due to their amphibious nature, they tend to get caught up in the nets of fishermen. However, this catch can cut itself free, which leaves the fisherman's livelihood in ribbons. This makes Amikiri a menace to fisherman and other coastal folk, who often find their prized haul slipping through a newly made hole. So for the locals, there is no stage of the Kamikiri that they like.

Like I said, Kamikiri are regarded as pests and are pretty much unwanted by everyone. The only benefit some folk gain is their sharp claws, which make good shears and cutting edges. Outside of that, not much else to like for them (as they say, I think they are neat). However, some stories tell of people who train Kamikiri for stealing, using their stealth and speed to be the perfect robbers. One particular tale has our criminal turn out to be a wig maker, who uses the Kamikiri to steal hair for their newest product. Due to their nasty tendencies, folk are sure to keep their homes well secured and protected, so that a secret barber doesn't sneak in for a quick trim. It should be noted that while humans are targeted for their hair, the Kamikiri will go after anything that looks the part. Animal fur is on the list, and so is dryad foliage. Walk alone at night or fall asleep out in the open, and these critters will turn from barbers to gardeners in an instant! Do you want a pruning? Too bad! Snip snip! Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian -------------------------------------------------

Just did a fearsome critter, so why not throw in a yokai too?

anyways... replace cops w geese bc at least geese hate all humans equally

Prometheus

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Summary: You disappoint August and must make up for it.

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub themes, language, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is my entry for the Happy Hoelidays Challenge by @donutloverxo @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 . You guys are all fucking amazing and I adore you! I chose the prompt “Kissing under the mistletoe” but with a twist. And honestly, this whole fic is a mess. But I hope you’ll find something worthwhile here.

Masterlist

Our love story will not be found in romance books. People like him and I, we don’t exist in rose tinted pages with flowery scents. We are found within the darker pages of horror books, where our love is written with blood and pain, where it’s ghastly stunning in its dangerous beauty. But I promise you, it’s no less beautiful than the walks in a meadow or cuddles in the bed.

We bleed and cry, from eyes and heart. We drown each other deep and deeper still, only to pull back above the surface as we’re about to die. That gulp of air, that’s sweeter than any other, if simply because it’s the one that has us clinging to life.

I like to think that I am Prometheus, and he is my Eagle, sent by the gods to devour me day after day, letting me writhe under him. It’s pain beyond anything, but what most don’t understand is that I need that pain to feel alive. But what if one day Prometheus was left hanging alone, liver intact and no eagle to eat him out?

That would be torture.

I am being tortured.

The whip in his hand cracked on skin and I choked on a sob. The sharp swish of the whip parted the air again and crashed on the skin with precise intervals, creating a crisscross of welts like a painter does his design. The blue in his eyes was clouded by the deep, boiling waves of anger and disappointment.

I could take his anger, but never his disappointment.

His anger meant punishment, it meant retribution. His disappointment meant distance, it meant betrayal. And here I was, Prometheus who disappointed his eagle and now watched that beak bite on someone else’s liver.

She took his hits gracefully, only small whimpers escaping her as his whip landed on her bottom. They left marks on her skin, but they seared my heart. People say nothing hurts more than being punished this brutally. They know nothing. Nothing of the pain of watching someone else take your pain, your punishment. People don’t know the torture of being tied down and being made to watch your master pour his anger into someone else.

I closed my eyes at the scene, incapable of watching more. It was more than my heart could take. I had promised to take his love and his hate, his sweetness and his poison. And to have someone else cry under him, wear marks on her body that should have decorated me left me more broken than any of his toys would have done.

“Please sir” I begged, “No more.”

His eyes were on me the entire time, even as he had someone else at his mercy. He cocked his head to the side, looking at me naked and tied up, balancing on my knees. He came closer and lifted his booted leg to part my thighs with it, an unreadable look in his eyes.

“Melly, leave.” He ordered the other girl. She swiftly got up and left without a word, just happy to be of service when required. I raised my eyes to his, pleading, begging. His large hand traced the curve of my cheek before dropping to the collar on my neck, playing with the charm that dangled on the front.

AW’s Princess

“I should take this away” August said, and I jerked as if I had been electrocuted. I shook my head, hair falling away from the elastic that secured them. He couldn’t take away my collar. No, he simply couldn’t.

“Please, no sir. I am sorry.” I sobbed.

To me, this collar was a symbol of ownership. Of being claimed by August Walker, being his. I would never trade this for a wedding ring, for this was more sacred to me. It sat on my neck, over my pulse, beating with the blood that pumped under it and reminded me that every breath I take belongs to him. That I chose to surrender my life living at his feet.

“What are you sorry about, Princess?” He asked me. Before I could answer, he was walking away to pull from his drawer a bowl and his trusted vibrator, and the sight of it made my thighs tremble.

“I am sorry for lying to you sir.” I replied. He hummed, coming to kneel before me, placing the bowl between my parted thighs and opening me wide with two fingers. I gasped, mouth parted as he touched me most intimately, his fingers that easily pulled the trigger of a gun running gently along my spongy walls to create an explosion no less than a gun shot.

He followed every pant that fell from my mouth, observed every twitch that showed on my face and drank in the fluttering of my lashes. Whenever I would turn my face he would tut, forcing me to look at him.

“How did it feel when I hit Melly instead of you?” He asked me, and slowly started to insert the vibrator inside me. I sucked in a breath, wincing at the stretch before answering.

“It hurt sir, it hurt so much.” I whimpered, tears shining in my eyes before dropping to my cheeks.

August leans back once the vibrator is completely in me, my juices dripping out from around it. Cupping my face gently, he brushed a soft kiss on my forehead, like the brush of angel wings and the slightest nip of Death’s scythe at once.

“You hurt me too.” He whispered. The darkness in his eyes had me shivering, both from fear and arousal. Being with August felt like standing on a cliff, every moment terrified that a strong gust of wind would have me pummeling to the ground. But when one wants to fly, even falling becomes a kink. How long does the fall last, and when you do hit the ground, how good does it hurt?

It hurts like heaven.

“You will fill this bowl with your cream” He ordered, “You will drip into it, and as you do, you’ll tell me where you went wrong. Apologize to me like you mean it, give me a reason to have you at my feet.”

He started unbuttoning himself and with every new inch of him revealed to my hungry eyes, I dripped. I clenched around the vibrating toy inside me, moaning softly. This is how completely he owned me. The eagle was going away, and it was up to Prometheus to seduce him to come back, to convince him to eat that liver one more time, that the taste it worth it.

“I am sorry sir, I lied to you. I didn’t tell you where I was going.” I started. He continued undressing, languidly tossing aside his clothes to unveil the scarred flesh underneath. I could tell every battle he’d ever fought by tracing the hardened marks over his body. Sometimes when he would let me, I’d trace the scars of his heart too, feeling the hurt and loss that lingered in their ridges.

“Where did you tell me you were going, Princess?” He asked me, sitting naked in front of me on a chair. Easy, confident.

“To the movies with my friends.” I lowered my eyes, ashamed of myself for lying to a man who can see through anyone and anything.

“And where did you actually go?”

I bit my lip, knowing I had disappointed him. He required nothing from me but trust and honesty.

“To see my family.” I whispered.

He shook his head, a sneer curling under his mustache. His gaze bore into me with a force that had me gushing in the bowl and he scoffed. The control he had on my body without even touching it was almost embarrassing. He got up to stand in front of me, his hard length so near to my face if I poke my tongue out, I’d be able to lick him.

“Your family” He spat the word like it was poison. “Why don’t I like it when you go meet with them Princess?”

“Because only you’re allowed to hurt me sir.” I answered.

August was not a nice man, he was not someone you mess with. He got off on pain and terror, on instigating fear in those around him. But when it came to me, only he is allowed to hurt me. He will whip me and spank me, tie me and choke me, but woe betide anyone who so much as hurt a hair on my head. Which is why I didn’t tell him I was meeting my family.

Every meeting with them came out the same way. Me in tears after a shouting match. For someone who had never managed to quite fit in anywhere, my only solace was August’s arms. And those arms would pound anyone to pulp if I cried tears that were put in my eyes by anyone but him. Fucked up? Maybe.

“Why did you go?” He asked, brushing the tip of his cock on my face, smearing his cum and marking me. The natural musk of him filled my nose and I leaned forward to have a taste when he moved away, wagging a finger in warning.

“It was Christmas.” I pathetically said.

August smirks, his eyes falling on the bowl between my legs that had collected my slick. He exhaled, kneeling before me and pulling out the vibrator with a pop, instead replacing it with his fingers that had me struggling in my restraints.

“And you thought I wouldn’t celebrate Christmas with you?” He asked me and flicked his fingers on my hardened nub that had me cumming into the bowl. His name was like a chant on my lips and I begged him to set me free, to hold me again.

He took away the bowl and put it on the bedside table, coming back to finally release me from the ropes that bound me. Carefully picking me, he dropped me on the bed and smirked nastily.

“I even got us mistletoe. I was going to hang it on the door and surprise you with it, but since you’ve chosen to be a bitch today, I’ve found another place for it.” Saying this he pulled out a bundle of mistletoe and held it over his cock, looking expectantly at me.

“W-what?” I sputtered.

“You’re supposed to kiss it sweetheart” He mocked and came closer, slapping me across the face with his dick. I blinked at him before licking my lips and taking him in my mouth. His familiar taste and thickness made me feel at home, and I sucked and slurped, trying to show him how sorry I truly was.

His hand tangled in my hair and pulled me along, bobbing me up and down his length, one hand still dangling the mistletoe over my head. I relaxed my body, letting him guide me as he wanted. My love was my apology, and this was my repentance.

“I had planned a fun night with you” He snarked, sitting deep inside my throat, “I got you a fucking tree and presents. Thought we’d watch a movie. But all that romantic bullshit doesn’t work for us, does it?”

His pace increased as did my moans. I held onto his thick thighs that had more than once choked me. He may have all the power over me, but I reveled in that just the same.

“We don’t make love beside the fireplace darling, we burn ourselves in the fireplace, surrounded by the flames of passion and lust that run in you and me.”

His words heated me up and I doubled my efforts, taking him deeper and looking into his eyes, letting him speak to my soul as he owned my body. He tensed and twitched, warmth pooling in my mouth and down my throat and I smiled when he pulled away. My jaw ached a little, but pain was an old friend.

“That was quite a kiss” I said, and he chuckled, pushing me down to lie on my back.

“It’s not over by a long shot.” He said and taking the bowl with my cum he dripped my essence over my bare chest and belly. My skin broke out into gooseflesh as the cold liquid hit me but just as soon it was followed by the warmth of his tongue, sucking me, tasting me.

This is what being worshiped felt like. In chains and in pain, and yet the object of desire and love. When one slap meets your cheek, the following caress feels just that much softer.

August rolled on his back, smearing the rest of my cum over his own chest. I leaned over him, tongue gliding through his hair and veins, dipping into deep scars and damaged tissues. His voice rose in a crescendo, cock hardening again and as I licked, I climbed over him, aligning myself and bringing him home with one thrust.

“Fuck” He whispered, mouth meeting mine in a kiss, sinful and dirty. He kissed me like the Angel of Death serving me the elixir of life. I bounced on him, rode him like he was the stairwell that would take me to heaven. His smell, his taste, the feeling of his rippling flesh and the dominance in his eyes set fire to my veins. I clamped hard on him, sliding my damp body over his as I crashed and fell apart.

His hips kept pushing up, going hard enough as if trying to come out of the other end. Nails dug into the flesh of my thighs as he kept me steady over him, pumping into me until I felt him release inside. We fell into a tangle of limbs, a sheet lazily pulled over my bruised body. That was the thing with August, when he hurt me it left a mark on the outside, but never inside.

“I love you” He softly panted in the crook of my neck. I turned over and clung to him, pulling him close in my embrace. Prometheus needed his Eagle to feel alive, and the Eagle needed Prometheus to sustain. Neither is complete without the other.

“I love you too”

 Permanent Tags: @what-is-your-wish​ @shooting-star-love​ @stanmysoul​ @sweeterthanthis​ @muralskins​ @rayofdawnworld​ @just-one-ordinary-fangirl​ @donutloverxo​ @angrythingstarlight​ @rockyrogers​ @slothspaghettiwrites​ @nerdygirl8203​ @firebolt99 

Henry : @agniavateira​

I would just like to say Bongo Smugglers killed me. I’m sitting in class giggling thinking about a Losers movie night where they have a dramatic showing of the movie. Audra and Richie are less embarrassed then they should be. It becomes an annual tradition to play a bongo smugglers™️ drinking game at Christmas.

AHH this is amazing, I just shoved two words together that I thought were funny and suddenly it’s this whole ugly 2002 sex comedy fully formed in my head. Glad it killed you during class. And yeah, they’re definitely not embarrassed, everyone’s heckling the writing and the early 2000s fashion more than anything else anyway.

Richie happily provides commentary the whole way through even though he’s only in the sex scene, waving his tortilla chip in Eddie’s face because he’s got his arm around his shoulder, hugging him close into Richie’s side. Eddie keeps snapping bites at it so often that Richie just ends up hand feeding him chips.

“Aaaaaaand... that’s the first time I touched a boob, right there!“

“Glad to help,” Audra winks.

“The exact moment I realized I was totally lying to myself. I’m having an entire existential sexuality crisis right there on camera, but can you tell? Does my fratty façade crack an inch?”

“I could tell, because you spent fifteen minutes before the scene pacing around set and chanting you can do this, you can do this, don’t throw up, you like girls, but not too much, because you don’t get paid if you pop a boner, c’mon Richard, c’mon—”

“Like I said,” Richie shouts, over all his stupid friends laughing at him, “no one can tell, ‘cus I’m a pro—”

“You call yourself Richard during pep talks?” Stan’s grinning at him sharp-beaked, like a vulture. Has Richie seen him blink even once since he came back from the dead? Not sure, not sure, make note to ask Patty to spy.

Onscreen Audra is shimmying down her low-rise stone-wash boot-cut jeans, boots with the fur, the whole club was in fact lookin’ at her. What the fuck was anyone thinking back then? Richie privately blames the Bush administration, and continues.

“You’re a great scene partner, Audra-my-deah, and I respect you for cougaring not one but two of our little balding Brady Bunch here, but you were kinda the reason I figured out I’m gay. Like, big time gay. Well, the second reason.” He rubs tortilla-salt fingers through Eddie’s hair and feels his stomach go fuzzy when Eddie kinda thrums out a low noise against him. Oh, he’s purring. Some deep down part of Richie’s caveman psyche, lodged right in the hungry reptilian nub of his central brain wants to bear-hug Eddie to a pulp, wants to Lenny him like a mouse until they both stop breathing at the same exact moment from the pressure.

Yeesh, dark!

He smooches one of Eddie’s Easter Island eyebrows instead, keeps his lips mushed there. Smooches again. “Biiiiiiig time.”

“My wife,” Bill whips around from his seat on the floor at Richie’s feet, cheeks bulging with wontons, “my wife did not cougar me.”

Eddie shushes him. Everyone else is exchanging Looks, including Audra, because she totally did cougar Bill. Good for her!

“My wife,” Richie mimics, all sing-song and bugling. “Who the fuck are you, Borat?” Eddie snorts, hard. “Turn around and watch me make sweet love to ya woman, Bill.”

Onscreen Richie is struggling out of a giant hockey jersey at the sight of Onscreen Audra’s nubile charms. Everything is lit terribly, to a Smash Mouth deep cut.

“Oh man, check out that figure.” Richie whistles at himself, twenty-six years old with muscles like long ropes. “These were the pre-gut days. Even though my diet was just Adderall and instant ramen.”

“I like your gut,” Eddie murmurs, squidging at it with the hand not shoved up the back of Richie’s shirt. He’s already looking pretty tipsy, because he told everyone loudly and at length that he’d have to be what he deemed, shithouse drunk, to cope with whatever 90 minute dick jokeathon he was about to endure for the sake of two minutes of Richie-ass. “You’re hotter than him.”

Richie preens. “I am him, dude.”

Eddie’s hand lands clumsy on his cheek, pulling Richie’s attention away from his own foregrounded bare ass and Onscreen Audra’s shocked expression, to face him. Eddie’s all unfocused, flushed in the cheeks. “You’re both hot. Him and you, I’d fuck you both. I’d let both of you fuck me at once.”

“Um,” says Ben. Mike keeps slorping up noodles, but his eyes are saucering at Bill’s giant TV.

“Hhohkaaay,” Richie breathes.

“Is this when you saw it, Audra?” Bev asks. She waggles her eyebrows at them from the muscular nook of Ben’s arms. “The famous Tower of Tozier? You mentioned in the group chat.”

“What group chat,” Richie croaks, wrenching his eyes from the sight of Eddie’s slick tongue pulsing gently against his lower lip, hanging open like he wants Richie to see inside his mouth. Yowza-yowza-yowza, this is so much better than movie-nights back in the 90s. “I never saw anything about that? And I monitor you all on WhatsApp twenty-four-sevs. I literally have nothing better to do while Eddie’s working.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Beverly dismisses him with a flick of her wrist.

Audra is nodding vigorously while Onscreen Audra tilts her head comically far to the right. “That’s when I saw it,” she says. “They couldn’t find a modesty sock that fit you, Richie, remember? I didn’t have to fake that reaction. And that’s with them blasting the A/C on high so my nips would poke through my shirt.” She nudges Eddie’s shin gently and stage-whispers, “Well done.”

Eddie growls hot miso breath into Richie’s neck. Snarls, really. That’s the only word for it. Richie’s not embarrassed—he’s been telling people about his donkey schlong for years, not his fault nobody ever believes him. It’s a boy who cried wolf situation, perhaps, if the boy was actually telling the truth every time and just wanted to brag to everyone about seeing a really big, thick wolf.

“Honey,” Bill says, visibly distressed, “this is already weird enough for me, please don’t say nips.”

“Nips, nips, nips.” Audra tickles into Bill’s ribs, and Richie joins in the chant, they all do. It’s a hailstorm of sesame toast raining on Big Bill’s protesting head. “Stiff nips! Stiff nips!”

“Shut up, I’m, uh’wanna see Rich fuck!” Eddie roars, wrestling the couch cushions for the remote and stabbing the volume obscenely loud.

Moans fill the air. Rice sprays from Mike’s mouth, between his hasty fingers. Patty is laughing so hard into Stan’s shoulder Richie would be kinda worried about her, if he wasn’t so distracted by the way Eddie’s leaning forward, hand on Richie’s thigh and eyes locked to Onscreen Richie’s bare bucking hips. He remembers this part horrible and clear, preserved behind glass in his mind like the embarrassing ninth grade school photo his mom still won’t remove from the mantelpiece. Braces like train tracks and his eyes squinted up small and moleish because his mom said she wanted to see his handsome face without his glasses for once. Eddie laughed at it for five whole minutes the first time Richie brought him up to visit mom and dad as his—as his, at last, before snapping a careful picture of the photo with his phone and muttering, so cute.

It’s the noises.

“This was the day I learned women really can, uh, fake orgasms,” Richie says. He coughs. Eddie’s fingers tighten on his thigh and he looks back at Richie over his shoulder, eyes all drunk and dark and dilated like a shark’s to the backdrop of Onscreen Richie and Audra’s plastic din. Richie’s head thumps dizzily, sliding his hand secret under Eddie’s shirt to the damp small of his back, watching his neck go pink. This, now this is familiar from 90s movie nights, how sweaty they’d get, tangled together like pocketed earbuds the longer the VHS spun. Always on the same couch by unspoken agreement, kicking and left to do so by the others, like the clubhouse hammock flirting was more RichieandEddie status quo than behaviour tethered to any one location. Feeling your heartbeat in your ears and everywhere your limbs are shoved between another sapling boy-body, and the couch.

Richie can see exactly what Eddie’s thinking, in that darkness. That’s not how you sound in bed with me.

“This is revolting,” says Stan, mildly, but Richie holds up his hand like a stop sign, pulled roughly back to the present.

“Wait, wait, here comes my line!”

“Thought you said it was a non-speaking—”

The camera cuts from Onscreen Audra’s bouncing breasts to Onscreen Richie’s slack-jawed face, his ill-conceived soul patch. He was asked to remove his glasses for the scene, he remembers, and was glad of it, feeling useless and young and stupid and exposed enough already just by virtue of needing the money, he didn’t need to see this perfectly nice and reasonable actress pity him for not even knowing how to pretend at being with a woman. Onscreen Richie tilts his chin up, and Bill’s entire rec room holds its breath. There will be bruises on Richie’s thigh tomorrow.

A grunt, a groan. An unsubtle trumpet fanfare musical cue on the soundtrack, but hey, neither of them ever claimed Bongo Smugglers was a masterpiece. “¡Ay, chihuahua!”

Richie throws his arms up in triumph. “All my own improv, folks! And they kept it in the final cut!”

Eruption. He’s pelted with howls of disgust and prawn crackers. Eddie grabs one of his arms and just shakes him, ragdolls Richie’s laughing body around until he tips over and sprawls into Eddie’s lap, shielded from assault. Eddie chews his insistent teeth into Richie’s shoulder, and finally, the scene ends with Onscreen Richie leaping a naked escape from Onscreen Audra’s balcony.

“Worst,” Eddie mumbles against Richie’s nape. “Worst thing’ve ever seening m’life.”

He’s so drunk, sweet thing. Richie sits back up, still wheezing. He rests his cheek on Eddie’s shoulder and gazes starrily up at his plastered little face. Steel-cut jaw softened with laughter and stubble, un-gelled hair curling around like a chestnut lamb’s. “Worst ever-ever?”

“No,” Eddie says plainly, and that’s true, “but it’s up there. Woulda rented the shit out of this at Blockbuster.”

Richie flings his leg over Eddie’s knees, kicking Bill in the process. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, gathering up all Richie’s loose ends in a big circling cuddle. “Every week. Woulda worn it out. Broke the disc.”

“Got your ‘Lil ‘Busters membership card revoked for being a creep.”

“Worth it.”

“Aw, Eddie-baby.”

“Would you two stop, you’re making the rest of us look bad,” Bev says, smiling fondly. The movie’s moved on, and none of them are really paying attention now that the main event’s over, but everyone’s still coming down, dismounting from belly-laughter and landing ankle-deep in giggles. “That was inspired.”

“He made me laugh so hard on that take,” Audra sighs, leaning against Bill. “I remember thinking, shame he’s a closet-case. I always knew you were a good guy under all that fake stand-up.” She rolls her head back on her neck to look at Richie, upside down. “D’you remember right after, too?”

“Ah,” says Richie, tensing up. Eddie must feel it, because he makes a lowing noise of concern and turns the volume down.

“What you did to those guys?”

“Ahaha, uh.” Richie struggles to sit upright with hot embarrassment tugging at his stomach. “They don’t need to—Audra, it’s not, anyone would’ve done the same—”

“No, actually, you were the only one who ever did,” Audra says, sharp-eyed, and Richie remembers that too. How much surer and in control of herself she was than him, even back then, when they were both just simple bottom-feeders on L.A.’s sludgy floor.

“What happened?” Patty asks. They’re all looking. Richie stares at the wall beside the TV’s garish over-saturation, scratches at the back of his neck, until Eddie takes his hand softly back to hold in his.

“I was pretty much always the only woman on set,” Audra explains. “Par for the course on a movie like that, it was whatever. It’s nothing like real sex, obviously, you have to stop and wait for lighting changes, new set-ups and stuff, you’re surrounded by crew. But you’re the only ones naked, and pretending to fuck, right? It can be a little.” She pulls a face, tilts her palm back and forth. “Degrading.”

Richie snorts, humorlessly.

“Anyway, that scene wrapped and they called cut, and a few of the guys in the crew said some stuff. About me. The director ignored it, the producer ignored it. I was used to it,” Audra says. Richie can see the edge of Bill’s jaw clench and re-clench like a fist as he watches his wife speak. Audra smiles widely, then, and jerks a thumb at Richie. “But this guy?”

They’re grinning, they’re all grinning, because they know him. Richie squirms under it. He can feel blood pounding behind his ears, across the surface of his scalp in pulsing waves of embarrassed heat, because it’s one thing to spend your life running your big fat Trashmouth to distract the bullies’ attention onto you, but it’s another for people to treat you like some kinda hero for it. Like it’s not just something friends do.

Bev’s eyes go all emerald-shiny with delight, like the quarry in sunlight. She covers her mouth. “Oh, Richie.”

“Knocked the first one out cold,” Audra crows. “You tried your best after that. It was three against one and he had a black eye before the rest of us could separate them, but he had the element of surprise at first. I mean, he flew at them, if you can imagine it—you’re what, six-one, six-two?”

Eddie’s trembling ever-so-slightly against him. Richie screws his eyes shut. “Six-two.”

“No wonder the asshole shit himself, you came at him all six-foot-two naked inches, pissed as hell, with a massive—”

“Alright!” Richie yelps, because if there’s anything more embarrassing than his brief Bongo Smugglers cameo, it’s the fact that he left set that day with a black eye and no money. Who cares. His closest friends are alive and they’re cheering, and Eddie is shoving himself into Richie’s lap just like it’s movie night in 1991 but with 100% more enthusiastic frenching, seating his drunk ass in Richie’s startled hands and hissing god, you’re such a crazy dumbass, I love you so much, Richie, even back then with that soul-patch I’d have loved you so much, god, sexy, Rich, wanna see you with a black eye, can I give you one, can you give me one, Richie, I’m gonna fuck you so good for this later, ay chihuahua—!

So what if fish need water to live. For certain pufferfish, flirting on the sand of a moonlit beach is irresistible (in bursts). And that’s not the only odd thing the ocean’s famous self-inflators do.    

Some of the 200 or so species in the puffer family take courtship to extremes. On a few moonlit nights a year at some Asian shores, Japanese grass pufferfish (Takifugu niphobles) flock to the beach to mate.

“A big ball of these pufferfish, maybe 400 fish, will sort of rise up on the rising tide and beach themselves,” says Gareth Fraser, an evolutionary developmental biologist at the University of Florida in Gainesville. Typically, that ball contains several hundred males and maybe one female, he says. The males start jumping around, releasing sperm onto the watery sand where a female discharges eggs. When a wave eventually sloshes in high enough, it washes them back to sea.

MEET ON THE BEACH A mass of Japanese grass pufferfish let themselves wash briefly ashore for frenzied mating at one of the beaches where they gather when conditions are just right (cue the moonlight).

Sand underwater holds allure as well. Males of a species not recognized until 2014 turned out to be the architects of mysterious underwater versions of crop circles. These white-spotted pufferfish (Torquigeneralbomaculosus) spend days plowing and fin flapping sand into great symmetrical rosettes as welcome mats for female visitors.

A FISH MADE THIS A male of a kind of Torquigener pufferfish (left) spends days creating a decorative site (right) for meeting and mating. CREDIT: HIROSHI KAWASE

Courtship among some in the pufferfish family, however, can be pretty brutal, Fraser says. “Sometimes, the male will bite with these really sharp beaks on the abdomen of the females.”

It was those strange beaks, more parrot than shark, that first nibbled Fraser’s scientific curiosity. The first teeth in baby puffers seem unremarkably vertebrate. But as the young fish grow up, the rows of pointy bits gives way to two nubs that stretch sideways along the jaw, eventually creating a pair of long, sharp-edged blades. With one set of blades along the upper jaw and another on the lower, adult puffers “can chop a fish in half and then feast on it,” he says. Aquarists need to feed their pufferfishes plenty of hard-shelled mollusks to wear down the blades or trim them back with a fish version of a nail clipper. If the beaks overgrow, the fish can’t eat.

NOT A PARROT Head-on and side views of the head of a cleaned pufferfish specimen shows the big adult beak that acts as sturdy chopping blades. CREDIT: G.J. FRASER ET AL/PNAS 2012

In the intimidating body part catalog, pufferfishes are perhaps best known for turning into spiky balls when outraged. These spines perk upright when puffers gulp water to balloon out their abdomens. Some of the same gene networks that put feathers on birds and hairs on mammals turn out to put the protective spines on puffers, Fraser and colleagues report July 25 in iScience. Those spines have evolved from the scales that covered distant fish ancestors. But between today’s skinny spines, modern pufferfishes are totally naked. Try not to stare.

NaNoWriMo: Return of the DinoKnights (Day 14)

Day 1 & 2 text is here.

Day 3 is here.

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Day 13 is here.

The mechanism turned, wheels within wheels, a half dozen nozzles spinning and weaving an arm into existence.

KYle stared at his new limb. The datatape in the medical kit held the designs for dozens of medical devices, prosthetics included. A few quick measurements and a questionnaire later and a sonic field held a fragment of gear in place as the fabricator wove a new elbow into existence. 

“I think I’m starting to feel better.” Kyle said. 

“You don’t have to watch every micron.” Brach said. “Take a nap, your new arm will be here when you wake up.”

“If we were home, I’d be growing, not building, the replacement.” Kyle said. “I wouldn’t be missing it in the first place.”

“No. You’d be paste.” Brach replied. 

“What?”

“I saw the feed. I saw what was coming.” Brach said. “This isn’t a choice between comfortable home life and weird alien future. It’s weird alien future or killed by evil meteorite. Weird alien future wins.”

“Even if its ruled by mammals?” Zara said. She was sitting on one of the storage crates that held material-cartridges for the printer. 

“Weird right?” Brach chuckled. “My money was always on the insects to take over when we blew ourselves up. They always seemed to want it more, you know?”

“Is everything a joke to you?” Zara huffed.

“Only the stuff that’s funny.” Brach replied. “And the stuff that really, really isn’t.”

“They don’t seem so bad.” Kyle said. 

“Really? With their flat faces, and tiny gnawing teeth and the oily string on their heads?”

“I didn’t say they weren’t ugly.” Kyle replied. “But they don’t seem hostile to me.”

“I-” Zara paused, then spoke. “Is it alright that I’m not alright?”

Both Brach and Ktle stopped, and looked back to her.

“I don’t think any of us are alright, Zara.” Brach said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” Zara paced, her wide feet padding on the floor of the fabrication lab. “I wasn’t the only one that saw the eye, right?”

Kyle exhaled long and slow. “I saw it. Not how I wanted to meet alien life for the first time.”

“Did it-” Zara hesitated, wondering if she should say it out loud. “-talk to you?”

Brach and Kyle both turned to her. “Talk to you?”

“Not in words.” Zara said. “But when I looked into the screen it felt like it was looking at me, right at me. And I could feel, it made me feel its plan. It wasn’t words, it didn’t even feel like thoughts do.”

Brach walked over to her and took a knee to better match her height. He put a massive right hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright. Take your time.”

“I didn’t see it, or hear it, but I experienced that thing smashing into the ground and a wave of fire and force just smashing cities to the ground. The sky turned black and fire was falling from the sky. Things were coming off it. Horrible things. And where people tried to hide or fly away the things hunted them.” 

“Fly?” Kyle asked.

Zara stopped. She blinked and went over the events in her head again. “I said fly, didn’t I? I got the impression the people were flying, being snatched out of the air.”

Kyle scratched his chin. “It could be a form of telepathy. There’s been, I want to say nine, recorded instances of mental gifts since the database started. Were you ever tested?”

“I don’t want to be a Dinoknight so I didn’t bother.” Zara replied. “And I wasn’t wearing an Aegis so even if I have a rare gift I couldn’t use it.” 

 “Creature that size probably has a massive brain, even without the dinobond it might be enough for you to pick up on the electrical activity, even through the walls and atmosphere.” 

“Might seems like a strong word.” Brach said. 

“So I don’t have a background in mentology. All we have are wild hypotheses at the moment.” kyle clicked his teeth. “Maybe it was telepathic, in a way that let it broadcast, or maybe her translator picked up on some kind of subtle communication in the broadcast, like how sometimes you can tell if an octopus is hungry by watching its skin change.”

“Or it could be I had a mental breakdown. A stress hallucination.” Zara replied.”We have to keep that possibility on the table.”

“I believe you.” Brach said.

“So do I.” Kyle added in. “Not just because even if the experience was entirely in your head it was still something you experienced, but because of the flying people.”

“Explain.” Zara replied. 

“The Dactyloid civilization. Lets say you did communicate with the thing for a moment. We have a massive, space-faring life form heading toward this planet specifically. Maybe when it started heading this way the Dactyoids were still here, and that’s what it was expecting.”

“Or it wasn’t his first visit and you saw its memory of the last time it was here.” Brach replied.

“The big-brain flappers disappeared in a mass extinction event. “ Zara spoke, her tone shifted from one of the excitement of discovery to palpable dread. “Just like we did.”

A sharp ‘ding’ sound rang out.

“Neat, my arm is done!”

---

“This is so clawsome!” Linn was all but running through the lab. She and Jason were surrounded by work stations, tables and engineering equipment, all of which was strewn with armor in varying stages of assembly. The suits were made of metal, plastic and composite materials that Jason couldn’t identify by sight or touch. 

The tables and stools were all adjustable. Like everything in the building the lab was designed for beings of wildly different size. Linn used this to her full advantage, adjusting the cables as she went to suit her own human-like height. Jason recognized a few of the tools by obvious function, screwdrivers, wrenches, and rotary cutters were obvious no matter how large they were or how oddly shaped the grips were. 

“What are these?” Jason said, turning a massive breastplate twice as wide as himself around on one of the tables. A panel was missing from the interior of the plate and could see mechanisms that looked like motors and wires running throughout, several gaps matched parts laid out on the table. 

“Aegis Armor.” Linn said. “Powered exoskeletons Dinoknights wear.”

“What’s a Dinoknight?” 

“They’re the dinos with all the coolest jobs. Like my mom.” She said, idly slipping her forearm into a bracer to test the fit. “Some are the military, some do police work, some fight fires, some are astrosaurs.” 

“We kind of gave up on knights in armor when gunpowder was discovered.” Jason replied. 

“What fun is that?” 

“You don’t have to tell me.” Jason said. “I don’t make those decisions.”

“The cool part is I don’t know any of these designs.” Linn said, looking around. She pointed to a yellow and black mass of treads and pistons that looked like a junk sculpture of an ape made from an earth mover. “That looks like a really heavily modified Dreadlifter 4, that might be part of a Claws of Life A-series. But these are all brand new designs, otherwise, 

“You said this was classified. Is it military stuff?” Jason asked. He was looking into a display case built into the wall. The interior of the case was made of a milky-white ceramic or glass divided into seven square alcoves, each about six inches wide. Three of the alcoves were empty, but the other four each contained a perfectly spherical  polished stone. Each had a chasm running through the foreward surface that revealed an interior of blue-green crystals which matched veins running through the unbroken stone.  

“Maybe.” Linn replied, her attention taken up by a the drawer of circuit-nubs and interlinks she was rifling through. 

“LINNORIX DEWCLAW NYCOR HORNE!”

Linn bolted upright, sending the machine parts in her hands scattering across the floor. “Mom!”

“That’s sheriff mom to you, young lady!” Cora pushed her way through the door, Sagan and Gloria following behind. Jason took in his first look at a Dinoknight in armor. She was twice as tall as his father, her sleek build still apparent under the shining blue and white armor that covered her from tail-to-neck. Her scales were tan, her eyes large and blue, her mouth beaked at the front and her head was crowned with rows of small white horns that grew into a crown of spikes that swept backward from the back of her skull. Unlike Linn she had no feathers. “You put down whatever it is you were touching and get over here this instant!” 

“Hey mom, we were just looking for Kyle to help him with his arm and-”

“And you assumed he would be in the room marked classified.” 

Jason was, at this moment, being squeezed by a hug from his father, his feet lifted off the ground. “Hey dad. We got lost.”

“You are in so much trouble.” Sagan said. “But I’m glad you’re okay.”

“What’s the big deal?” Linn asked. “We went exploring, we found important stuff, stuff we’ll need, like, the Mister Bite still works, so we won’t starve as long as its stocked. And this has to be useful right?” 

Cora took a knee to better look her daughter in the eye. “You left Kyle alone, and you let a human you don’t know see you and-”

“Kyle was working on calculations and said I was distracting him.” Linn said. “And, I got carried away after I made a new friend. I’m sorry, mom.” 

“That’s not the point.” Cora sighed. “This isn’t home anymore. This place is dangerous. I saw... I touched a specter.”

“You said specters aren’t real.” Linn replied. “Also, so does science.”

“I was wrong about that.” Cora tapped a small button on her chest-plate. A rectangular cartridge, the size of a pack of cards, slipped out. It was black, with a clear top panel that revealed two spools of glowing, hot pink tape. She inserted it into the nearest interocitor work station.

The screen came to life with the sheriff’s battle with the specter in the Science Tower One parking bay, as seen through her own eyes.  “This is why I don’t want any of us wandering off alone.” 

“Mom... you’re the first to capture a specter on tape.” Linn said. 

“By our rules” Gloria spoke up. “You get to name the species. Can you translators do Latin?”

“I don’t know. Maybe if you hum a bit of it.” Horne chuckled at her own joke so someone would. “It’s a specter, why not just call it a specter.”

“Linguistic precision mostly.” Gloria replied. “We might encounter a slightly different kind of specter later, and we’ll need specific names so we know which one we’re talking about.”

“Like, tyrannosaurus rex or dracorex hogwartsi or triceratops horridus” Jason interjected.

“Dracorex Hogwarsi!” Gloria exclaimed to Cora. “That’s what you remind me of! It’s been on the tip of my brain since we met!” 

“The Dragon King of - Some nonsense word?” Cora replied, puzzling through the translator’s explanation of the term. “What’s a dragon?”

“A grand, mythological beast that breaths fire.” Sagan said. 

“That’s funny.” Cora replied. “So what do we call this then?”

“Spectersaurus hornensi?” Sagan suggested. “Horne’s ghost-lizard.”

"That’s fun and all but-” Cora retrieved her datacart and reinserted in her armor.. “-we’re still just standing around in a top secret lab that none of us have clearance to be in. I’m not comfortable with throwing those rules out just because no one is around to penalize us. It’s a matter of principle and safety and-”

There was an electronic click. Everyone’s heads turned toward the sound, their eyes falling on Gloria Anning, who was holding her phone at eye level. She tapped the screen, and there was another click as she took a picture.

“What?”

The Halugyth is one of those creatures of the Underworld that many surface dwellers have a hard time believing exists. This is mainly because people don't really know what the Underworld really looks like, so they just go off of stories and their own personal beliefs. You would not believe how many people think that the world down below is just made of tunnels and lava! They just have this image of it being like an ant colony, but with a lot more fire and demons instead of ants. With this in mind, it is hard to imagine that something the size of the Halugyth could actually function in such a tight space! The funny thing is that they are half right with this belief. While there are fungal forests down below that are massive enough to house entire herds of these creatures, the surrounding networks and tunnel systems cannot. Once a Halugyth reaches its adult size, it is pretty much stuck in that one cavern for the rest of its life. Like I mentioned before, the Halugyth are giant creatures that live exclusively in the fungal forests of the Underworld. The abundance of fungi and mushrooms are an almost inexhaustible food source for them, which is probably why these beasts can reach such a size. With their necks fully extended, the Halugyth can reach a height of fifty feet! In truth, most of this height is made up of their extremely long necks, but that is still quite impressive! If you were to be walking with a lantern on the forest floor, you wouldn't even be able to see their head when they are grazing! It would just go upwards into darkness! When they fully extend their necks, there is no pod, bulb or mushroom cap that is out of reach. Their diet consists solely of fungal flesh, which is easy to find in these massive forests! They tend to graze in the canopies of these forests, snacking on the juiciest bulbs and pods they can find. Their sharp beaks are perfect for biting off these structures, and their facial antenna are used to smell and taste the potential food in low-light situations. During long periods of feeding, Halugyth will actually coil their necks around the fungal tree they are grazing on. By resting these coils on the numerous branches, they relieve the strain and energy it takes to hold up their necks for so long! Halugyth tend to travel in herds, marching their way through the forest at a snail's pace. Their herds move in a way that allow the fungal trees and other fungi to regrow and repopulate by they time they make their way back around. Herds do not have any strict structure to them, as they can have any number of males or females. The breeding season seems to be just as lax and slow as they are, with no real competition or ceremony to it at all. When the time comes, a female Halugyth will lay hundreds of small eggs. These come out in bundles of a few dozen, wrapped in a sticky egg sac. While she lays them, the male will use his mouth to pick up the slimy bundles and place them on his back. He rests them between the large spines, giving them protection from aerial or arboreal predators. While these creatures grow to titanic proportions, they begin life rather small. When the young emerge, they are about the thickness of your arm and twice its length. They are worm-like in form, with their six legs just simple nubs. The reason the young start off so small is because they need to travel to new feeding grounds. With the adults too big to ever leave the confines of the caverns, it is up to the young to spread out and seed surrounding areas. The hordes of larvae will slither off their father's back and seek out a new home. At this stage, they are quite defenseless, especially since they are on the move. With the sheer amount of young that are born each time, though, it is almost a guarantee that some will make it to new feeding grounds and grow up into adults.  As they grow up, their limbs and plates will develop, slowly giving them that iconic silhouette. 

At such a size, it would be hard to believe that these creatures have any predators. In truth, not many are willing to face off with a full grown adult, but predators will target the younger ones. The Panthelis are the main threat, using their bladed heads to slice into their legs and cripple these behemoths. Though they are quick and nimble, the Halugyth have ways to deal with the Panthelis threat. Their long necks and sharp beaks can serve as good weapons, lashing out and sending these predators flying. Their thick, trunk-like legs sport claws and can flatten a Panthelis with a single stomp. By staying in herds, the Halugyth can use the aid of others to ward away the Panthelis and make it harder for them to come in for an attack. The other major predator of Halugyth are the denizens of the Underworld itself! Demons and shades are not ones to turn up their nose at a food source, especially one that has so much meat! Towns and villages that live close to these forests will hunt Halugyth for food, though they are careful to not over harvest. To hunt these massive beasts, the hunters will climb up into the trees and hide near tempting food sources. When the Halugyth comes in for a bite, the hunters will jump out and snare the head will sharp hooks and nets. This traps the Halugyth in one spot, giving the other hunters enough time to target an exposed part of neck and sever it. With a solid chop, they decapitate the beast and gain tons of fresh meat. The rest of the hunt will be spent cutting and cleaning the kill, turning it into manageable chunks that they can take home. The other task will be to ward off interested predators and scavengers, as they become quite thrilled by the opportunity of a fallen Halugyth.   One interesting note I have to mention about the Halugyth is their giant spines. When I was observing them during my expedition to the Underworld, I asked about the purpose of these dorsal spikes. Yes, I did mention that they help ward off predators who would go after their eggs, but what I was curious about was their size. To put it simply, their back spines are way too big to be efficient against the smaller creatures who would go after their young. They do the job, but they could do it just as easily if they were half that size. I asked Mamin about this and he told me something quite amazing! It turns out I was right that the spines were too big for such a simple job, and it is because guarding the young was only half their job! It seems that the Panthelis and demons were not the only hunters of these creatures! He told me that there was a species of predator that existed long ago, called the Malicrus. These predators were equally massive beasts and they preyed upon the Halugyth. When faced with such a giant foe, these spines helped ward off attacks from behind, but that didn't stop these creatures from preying on them. From the tales he was told as an imp, the Malicrus were terrifying creatures of titanic size and strength. The adults stalked the fungal forests, while the smaller young would scour the surrounding tunnels. At this age, the young hunted smaller creatures, and a favorite target of theirs was demonkind. It was said that packs of these beasts would swarm out of the tunnels and assault entire towns. Entire battalions had to be made to defend against these brutal attacks. In time, the demons and shades found a way to repel the young, but that wasn't enough. They wanted the threat to be gone for good. Over the course of decades, demonkind fought the Malicrus and hunted down every last one they could find. The young were slaughtered in droves and the giant adults were brought down and butchered. With these hunts, the Malicrus was driven to extinction, its kind long gone from the Underworld. Perhaps the demise of this super predator is what allows the Halugyth to live in such numbers? It is hard to say, but I imagine they are doing quite well with a major predator gone forever! Well, I wouldn't say that. If I learned anything about the Underworld, it is that nothing is certain. In a labyrinthine world like this, who is to say there are not isolated caverns or caves that have not seen the hunts? Pockets of life that are far from the demons' reach, where these titans still live? Everyone talks about the mysterious Tectons, and the unreachable places where the Desmodals dwell, so that means there are many realms still undiscovered. Who knows what else is lurking out there, in the uncharted unknown? It is a fascinating possibility to me, but also a terrifying one.     Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian