#otherwise.

do we like strong femboys? 🧐

thats kind of spooky.

ayyye a hug yis gimme that RIGHT NEOW 🫂 will have to squat down or pick you up ig but that's okay 🫂🫂

im so not nice baby 😔🥀 but to cuties like you tho? live to protec and atac and by that i mean yo ass being dragged to my comfy nest deal with it 🪹🦅

//the note says: "i can't reach your back ;(" OKAY bye now have a nice one 🐜😗💕

✨ currently reading: i'm rereading watership down by richard adams! buddy reading it with a friend and i'm excited to go back in. i consider this one my favorite book ever. i even have a tattoo of it. rabbits baby! & i also found men, women, and chainsaws: gender in the modern horror film by carol j clover at my library. so i got that going on audiobook. i haven't broken into either, however.

✨ last series: probably the mighty nein? if not, supernatural. i was fact checking, though. not watching. i'm waiting for the pitt to finish up so i can watch it at once.

✨ last movie: the princess bride! i just finished reading it sunday! movie > book.

✨ last song: that i actively looked up? probably bad dreams by teddy swims because i woke up with it in my head.

✨ sweet or salty: oh, salty. but with a sweet drink.

✨ coffee or tea: coffee!

✨ working on: i had a huge art plan for this season and month and i haven't touched anything. i don't think i've drawn since the beginning of the month which isn't great but i've been so busy! i keep trying to draw about [redacted] but every time i do, i hit a slump. i should stop trying and just draw birds and my neopets. writing-wise, i'd love to write an essay on the failures of sequels, mischaracterizations and the sacrifice of character arcs. but it all lives in my head because work and other things going on.

the door swings open without warning.

she doesn’t see him first—she smells him. familiar warmth, familiar quiet strength. her husband. but the scent trailing behind him is sharp and panicked, full of sweat and fear, and by the time she actually turns her head toward the doorway she already understands the role of this room.

he crosses the threshold dragging another man by the collar, the prey stumbling, half-conscious, shoes scraping against stone. ahmya feels the shift almost immediately: hunger pressing up from the deepest part of her, coiling in her gut, rising like a tide she hasn’t allowed to crest in months. she swallows, jaw tightening, feeling her teeth ache beneath the restraint.

the man he delivers starts to unravel under the pressure of the atmosphere alone, fear practically peeling him apart at the seams, and ahmya’s fingers curl harder around her cane.

she knows what this is.

she knows exactly what this is.

but she asks anyway, voice soft enough to lull but loud enough for the prey to hear, her head tilting as she looks from her husband to the offering laid at her feet.

" honey, what's this? "