#also there was a bird carcass filled with fly's

[that1notetaker]

I stayed overnight with a friend who let me use their typewriter. Narilamb fanfiction notes look fancy now

[i-wanna-write]

If One’s Different, One’s Bound to be Lonely - Wolverine x Reader Fic

Fic Synopsis: We know Wolverine and Sabertooth but the reader is known as Jackal. Just like the other two, their mutation is animalistic, lending them healing factors, enhanced physical abilities, and animal senses. This fic details their relationship with the Anchor!Wolverine and how they ended up meeting the Worst!Logan

Part 1

Chapter Warnings: violence, cussing, lewd comments/thoughts, reader is described as female

Word Count: 3k+

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The day you met Victor and James changed your life. You immediately left Montana, not wanting the psycho and his brother to follow you and cause more trouble. You ettled in another secluded cabin, this time in the words of northern Alberta, Canada. You wanted to put distance between yourself and that run in.

After that run in, you went from encountering two mutants for the first time in over 50 years, to five in the month it took you to find a secluded cabin. You may have killed two out of the five you encountered.

It wasn’t your fault though. One was able to phase through walls and proceeded to do so through your motel room and into your bathroom while you were taking a shower. The man tried to have his way with you but your claws quickly castrated him before he had the chance, followed by a quick slice to his throat.

The other was a woman who was able to will someone to do anything she wanted. All she had to do was meet another's gaze and they were basically her puppet. She spotted you at a gas station and attempted to strike up a conversion before you made eye contact and told her to fuck off.

That’s when she got a hold of you and had you rob the gas station. Unlucky for her, it wore off once you handed the money over to her and you were quick to slice her throat with your claws.

For some reason that was usually your method of death. It was more poetic than ripping someone’s throat out. It also was something an average human could easily do with a knife, allowing police to never guess a mutant was the assailant.

You finally reached Alberta and were able to settle down into a small cabin that was a studio with a small bathroom situated, having just a tub and a toilet. You weren’t picky though, happy to just be alone again after a month of travel through towns and civilization.

Your days consisted of reading or hunting in the woods, sometimes venturing to the nearest town to acquire some food or more reading materials. And alcohol. You always needed to have beer and whiskey wherever you lived.

You enjoyed the silence when you were alone. How on mornings, you'd drink a coffee and read outside, watching the sunset and listening to the birds become awake. It was nice, no instinct to kill someone or being overwhelmed with scents to ruin your day.

Until that instinct came back in full force.

One minute you were seated on your dilapidated couch at night, eating a rabbit you just caught, skinned, and gutted, the next you were standing, alert with all senses. Your claws were elongated, teeth on full display.

Having been in this cabin for a year, you were used to all sounds around it. The sound of a family of foxes scurrying back to their home. The sound of the occasional bear walking by insearch of the foxes. The sound of the vultures circling over a dead carcass.

You never heard the sound of gunshots.

Following it was silence. No longer were the animals running around, the birds flying high. The only sound was your own breath and heartbeat for a moment.

Then you heard it. A roar so loud, you were surprised it didn’t shake your house. You immediately rush out your door, the fresh air filled with the smell of copper. Of blood.

You let your nose lead you, running a mile before you were able to make out two silhouettes in the dark. One was couching over something, the other a few feet away, leaning against a tree with their hand on their chest. You took a breath in, their scents hitting your nose.

“Fucking great.” You mumble to yourself, a few feet away from the pair.

Thanks to their mutations though, they heard it.

You watch as both of their gazes shoot your way.

“Well, look who it is.” The one crouching says, coming to raise. “Fancy meeting you here, huh frail?”

You roll your eyes, taking Victor in. He looks exactly the same as a year ago. Hair just as short, stubble still on his face. His canines are showing as he smiles and you watch as his clawed hand, which you now notice has blood on it, raises to his mouth and he licks it clean.

You grimace slightly, never relishing in the taste of blood. You turn your gaze to see James is still with him, leaning against a tree with an aggravated look on his face and holes in his jacket. You notice the holes are consistent with the amount of gunshots you heard.

“You okay?” You ask James, walking slightly closer to him as your eyes are finally adjusted to the dark.

“”M fine Bub.” He gives a curt nod of his head and you stare at him a moment, noticing that his hair has grown in the past year. It still curls around his ears and to the nape of his neck but now the tufts on the sides of his head are slightly longer. While it is a weird hairstyle, you silently think he pulls it off well.

You turn back to see Victor watching you, although this time in annoyance rather than distrust. You think he’s probably a little butthurt you broke his arm and tore out his throat.

You look down at the body before him, noticing claw marks on his torso and blood soaked in his clothes. The man appears to be in his early sixties, slightly overweight and balding. A gun is thrown to the side and it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

You sigh, starting to walk towards your cabin before turning to look at the men, an eyebrow raised.

“You assholes coming or what?”

You turn back around and continue on your way, listening as the two of them begin to follow.

///\\\

You lead the other two mutants into your small cabin, none of you saying a word on the mile walk to it. You open the door for the men to enter, observing how they look around and know there's not much they'll see.

“Take us back here so you can have your way with us, frail?” Victor asks, turning from his spot behind your couch to look at you, smiling with his canines.

“Actually, so I can rip your throat out again.” You smile back, all canines.

Victor's smile falls from his face to annoyance, pride filling you. James' lips quirk up in a grin before being replaced with his usual brooding expression. It happened so fast you almost think you imagined it.

“I don’t like you.” You start, pointing at James. “And I certainly hate you.” You add, now pointing at Victor. “But odds are that hunter would’ve found me and I probably would’ve been the one to kill him so,” you shrug this time, ending it at that for your explanation.

“Awe, you going sweet on us frail?” Victor asks almost mockingly.

You just shoot him a smile back, not wanting to play into his taunts. You walk over towards the bathroom, opening the door.

“Only a tub but gets the work done if you want to wash the blood of ya.” You say to James, making eye contact with his deep brown eyes. “I was in the middle of my dinner but will go hunt another few rabbits. You touch any of my shit, you’d wish I only ripped out your throat.” You pointedly look at Victor.

You make your way from the opened bathroom door, walking past a thinking Victor. You pass James who is leaning against the kitchen counter and back to observing your small space. You’re about to make contact with the door handle before Victor’s voice cuts you off.

“What kinda man am I if I let a frail do the huntin’.” He says, walking back over to you.

You quickly glance down at his crotch, enough to make it obvious, before looking back to him. “Don’t think you’re much of a man to begin with.”

Victor growls, hand reaching out to strike you before James intervenes. You didn’t even notice, he reached you so fast. He now stands between you and his brother, his back to you. He’s so close your senses are filled with smoke from a cigar, a hint of whiskey, and his own blood. It’s amazing what your mutations do, sliding bullets out and healing as if they never happened.

Victor and James share a look, as if silently communicating before Victor leans into the taller man's ear. “If you wanted her that bad, just had to say so, Runt.”

Victor moves past the both of you, opening your front door and slamming it shut. James walks away from you, heading back towards the kitchenette. He opens a cupboard, as if knowing what’s in there, and grabbing one of your bottles of whiskey.

He doesn’t grab a glass, just opening the bottle and taking a swig. You sigh, walking over to the man, and lean against the counter next to him, though not close enough to touch.

“He always a misogynistic asshole?” You question, taking the bottle from James hand and gulping some down yourself.

The rims taste like him, a lingering taste of tobacco and mint. Your mind starts to wonder if the taste would intensify if his mouth was against yours but quickly shakes your thoughts.

James lets out a snort, grabbing the whiskey back. “Only around women.”

You snort at that, finding it funny how opposite the two brothers are. One barely speaks, the other enjoys his own voice too much. One is short, the other tall. One seems to enjoy the kill, playing into his instincts, the other fighting against them at every moment.

“Since you’ve probably gathered how I spend my years, roaming place to place, how do you and Victor?” You question after a few minutes, trying to learn more about them.

You’re met with silence and not surprised. It was bordering a personal question and you had to guess James wouldn’t be privy to answer it. You just let the silence take over again, going back to your thoughts.

“War.” James finally says.

“Hmm?” You question, turning to look at him in wonder.

“You asked how we spend our years, war.” James says.

You feel like an idiot for a moment but don’t let it show, quickly asking another question. “What type of wars?”

James sighs, turning to look at you as well to meet your E/C eyes. “Fought in World War 1, fought in World War 2. Now we just roam like you. Sometimes come across a mutant and Victor will take them out.”

“So that’s what he wanted with me.” You conclude.

“Among other things.” James reveals, eyes trailing down your body, as if realizing you’re not dressed like a boy as you were when you first met.

You immediately look away, suddenly feeling the intensity of it all and noticing how close the two of you have gotten. You’ve known this guy, what, three hours total? What’s wrong with you? You clear your throat, grabbing the whiskey and swallowing before speaking.

“Well, if you need to clean up. Help yourself.” You say, gesturing to the bathroom.

James takes that as the conversion is over and nods. You watch as he pushes off the counter and walks towards the bathroom. The door shuts and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Running a hand through your hair, you walk over to your couch, picking up your previous discarded dinner and throwing it away. You hear the tub turn on and try to ignore the naked man in the room so close. You wash the dish and head back to the couch, grabbing your nearest book and diving in to distract yourself.

You’re brought out of the chapter you’re reading thirty minutes later when the bathroom door opens, James standing in the doorway in nothing but his jeans. You swallow, feeling your heart raise. If you thought he was huge in his shirt, he appears larger without it.

His pecs are defined, as are his abs, showing off his muscular build. His chest is lined with hair, traveling down his stomach to the waist line of his pants. You imagine that if he were to take them off, it would continue down.

Your observable gaze catches James and you realize he just caught you ogling. You blush slightly, turning away in embarrassment. You’ve seen shirtless men before. Hell you’ve seen naked men and lied with them. But none of them compared to James and that is just with him without his shirt.

Your front door suddenly bursts open and you raise, teeth bared and claws grown. You hear a schlit and look over to see James in an attack stance, his own mutation on full display. That’s when you finally get a good view of part of his mutation. Out of his knuckles are three, one foot bone like claws on either hand.

‘So that's what he sliced me with.’ You think to yourself, wondering if they hurt when they exited him.

“Am I interrupting something?” Victor's voice drawls, your gaze traveling back to see the man with the door closed behind him.

Despite having gone hunting, he’s surprisingly clean. He holds three gutted and skinned decently sized rabbits in his right hand. You retract your claws and teeth, James doing the same.

“We’re just discussing why it was taking you so long.” James bites at him.

Seems like the more comfortable he grew in your presence, the more of a backbone James seemed to grow towards his brother. The older man just rolled his eyes, walking over to the table and putting the rabbits down.

“Time to get cooking frail.” Victor says to you.

He walks over to you, side stepping to take a seat on your couch. He brings his legs up onto the coffee table, boots still on, and crosses his ankles. You watch as he folds his hands on his lap, claws still drawn and gaze on you.

“Ain’t your mother.” You retort, smiling mockingly.

“We’re your guests, where's the hospitality?” Victor asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Same where my normal genes are, non-existent.” You cross your arms across your chest, awaiting him to get up and do it himself.

“For Christ sake, Victor. I’ll cook the damn food. Least we can do after her letting us in.” James grumbles, grabbing his shirt and jacket from inside the bathroom and putting them back on.

You hide your disappointment and watch as the tall man walks to the kitchen, this time rummaging through the cupboard before finding what he was looking for. He quickly gets to work at preparing the rabbits, you making your way to lean against the counter and watch him.

Despite you barely knowing them, your instincts tell you that James is the better of the two. That he wouldn’t ever harm you, at least on purpose, and had no ill will towards you.

You couldn't say the same about his brother. But somehow, you feel safe with James here. How he was willing to step in between you and Victor, his back to you in defense. You’ve never felt safe around soemone. Not since before your mutation made itself known

Soon, the meal is finished and you sit in the teared up recliner while James sits on the couch next to his brother. You all eat in silence, though noticing how Victor's gaze travels between his brother and you every so often, nose flaring.

You know he can probably smell your attraction towards his brother. Hell, you know it based on your own mutation. The moment you saw him without his shirt in your bathroom doorway, you’re core throbbed and you knew James would be able to smell you.

But that’s just nature, hormones. Any woman would have the same reaction in the situation, it’s just basic biology. Mutant or not, James was an attractive man. And guessing by his own scent he was giving off, you were an attractive woman in his eyes.

Once dinner is done, James, again your favorite brother by a long shot and not just due to looks, takes the plates and washes them. He returned back to the couch, standing over Victor with his arms crossed and looking almost expectantly.

“What?” Victor questions gruffly.

“Should get going.” James says pointedly.

Victor makes a face. “We got a place to stay the night, with no one around, and you want to leave?”

“She never invited us to stay.”

“I never invited you to stay.”

You and James say at the same time, looking at each other awkwardly. Victor lets out a laugh.

“Ain’t that cute. Soon you two will be fucking against the wall and produce little runts runnin’ ‘round.”

You stick your tongue in your cheek, wanting nothing more than to rip this throat out again. It seems if he can’t have you, he may as well embarrass his brother since he also wants you.

But you're not going to give anything to either of them.

“Victor.” James growls low, eyeing his brother.

You watch the silent exchange between the two before the older one rolls his eyes. He removes his once again kicked up feet from the coffee table, moving his neck side to side to crack it before standing up.

“Always gotta be the good guy Jimmy.” Victor mumbles before brushing past his brother.

You watch as he makes his way to the front door before turning around and flashing you his canines.

“See you around frail.” He says before opening it.

“I hope not.” You call back as he slams the door shut.

You’re alone with James and stand, arms at your side while his are still folded across his broad chest. You watch as he sighs, as if having expected that of Victor.

You feel sorry for the guy, really. He obviously loves his brother, at least a little. But it puts him with someone on the verge of losing sanity due to his instincts. You noticed that within only a year, Victor had no qualms about showing off his canines and claws, not once withdrawing them during this run in.

Meanwhile, James seems to have a good moral compass and always tries to diffuse a situation. He was just as quiet but more polite this time. He’s either logically thinking you’re aren’t a threat and beginning to feel comfortable around you, or maybe relying on his instincts and going of your mutual attraction to not see you as a threat.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment. Neither of you moving or saying anything. You stare into his brown eyes, watching as emotions flicker through them. Anger, annoyance, acceptance. As if he knows this will be his life forever and there’s nothing he can do to change it.

He breaks the gaze first, lowering his arms and walking towards the door. You eyes follow his movements, watching as his hand opens the door before he pauses to look back at you.

“See ya ‘round, Bub.” James softly says before stepping outside the cabin, closing the door behind him.

“I hope so.” You whisper back to the closed door.

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Tag List: @randomblogzsblog, @sebastianstanblog, @h0n3y-l3m0n05

[rabbithub]

Take These Broken Wings (Monster Forest!AU, 1/???)

(After 2 years, this fic's first chapter is done and has also been posted on Ao3. I also find working with a portable keyboard speeds up the process (probably because of using my laptop years ago), and I managed to bang out another piece earlier on Aethy (a reader fic series for the same AU, but maybe I'll post them later if anyone is interested). Anyhow, here's the first chapter of this fic. yes the title is a mister mister song title shoosh)

The sky rumbled overhead, the grey clouds moving lazily above the forest canopy; A harpy was flying just over the trees, easily mistaken for a large bird by the unaware. There was a rustle in the branches as the harpy perched in the trees, silently watching and waiting for something to approach. He had been flying for hours, trying to track down prey- unfortunately, all he got for his trouble was some near misses and an empty stomach. He hissed softly as he heard his empty stomach growl, feathers ruffling in utter irritation.

Dismayed, the harpy stretches a wing, using his free claw to preen and straighten some of his feathers to ease his frustration. He could hear a group of humans approaching, feathers twitching in anticipation. A sinister smile spread across his face- this was a good upturn of luck; he could finally eat and keep his stomach full until the next day.

Patiently, the harpy waited until the group was close enough, claws twitching with hunger. The second the humans were in eyesight, the harpy immediately pounced. He eagerly ripped apart two of the humans, and finally pinned the remaining one down with a pleased growl. The human was angrily trying to hit him, swearing and screaming out names and insults. One name only made him growl somewhat proudly, as if recognizing it.

The harpy then bit into the human's throat, tearing the flesh away quickly. As much as he would have loved to toy with this piece of meat, he had to eat right now- he hadn't been able to catch anything the whole of yesterday; it was only natural that prey would eventually come to his clutches.

Soon enough, he ripped into the dead body greedily, eating his fill quickly, the twitching of the recently dead meat disturbing him very little. After several moments, he had taken off most of the flesh from the carcasses, his stomach full.

The harpy smirked at one of the names the human had called him- 'il diavolo', was it? At any rate, he had more or less accepted the insult as part of his identity; while unsure where these prey had gotten this name from or its correlation, it felt natural to him. 'The things and ideas humans have are... rather interesting.' he thought to himself, wiping away the blood off of his face. 'It's rather amusing to witness, truly.'

A raindrop hit 'Diavolo's' head, making him hiss in discomfort; he hadn't accounted for rain today during a hunt... had his hunger really distracted him to the weather? Feathers bristling in annoyance, he began to hurry toward his home, trying to head back to his home as quickly as possible on foot; as much as he would have tried to fly home in this rain, it was much too risky- if his wings got too waterlogged or if he were struck by lightning, it would be his undoing-

An unusual sight caught Diavolo's eye, making him come to an immeadiate stop; it looked like a pile of feathers lying on the ground a mile or so away, almost like a overgrown dead bird. Wary, Diavolo resolved to leave it behind; if it were another harpy, then it must have failed to either fend for itself, or provoked a much stronger opponent. However, something seemed to not sit right with this cricumstance, and he reluctantly got closer.

The tired bundle of feathers twitched as Diavolo approached it, almost dead save for faint breathing. Diavolo carefully reached out to it only to see it become startled and back away with a weak noise- well, more so try to turn away; it looked as though it were injured and scared. As Diavolo watched this poor thing deflate and lower itself back onto the ground, he felt it was trying to goad him into attacking, almost begging for death.

As a soft growl escaped Diavolo's throat, he decided not to attack- he found it rather... low to kill something injured and weak; he watched it slip into unconsciousness, and an uneasy twisting engulfed in the pit of his stomach. Impulsively, he scooped it up, almost flinching at the scent of burnt feathers and blood. Upon closer look, the feathers did look a bit more colorful.

Diavolo muddled it through; this had to be a siren- whilst not directly related to harpies, they were just as dangerous, if not more so due to their looks and alluring voices. Growling curiously, Diavolo carried the siren off, heading back to his home as the rain began to pick up; the walk would be a bit long, but it would be better than letting this stranger starve to death or worse.

~

As Diavolo approached the cave with him and the siren both soaking wet, he sighed in relief- this cave was more or less a safe haven for him, and so far, no one had found him here.

...Although, given this current situation, he would have to make an exception with this injured siren.

As he made his way to the entrance of the cave, Diavolo noticed that the siren was starting to wake up again; groaning in confusion and pain. Diavolo stopped for a moment, unsure how this would play out; if this siren mistook his act of mercy as a threat, then there was no other choice but to defend himself. Thankfully, the siren fell asleep again.

Diavolo continued walking, entering the the cave and venturing deeper until he walked into a large cavern; one of the corners having a makeshift nest and blanket as a sort of bed. With caution, he set the unconscious siren onto the nest.

In that instant, the siren startled awake, feathers raised and eyes wide. Diavolo realized that this siren was male, and also very upset at him; it was... somewhat understandable, Diavolo had basically kidnapped this stranger and taken him back home.

Diavolo stared for a few minutes, watching the siren try to look intimidating; despite being injured and afraid- feathers raised and hissing. Concerned, Diavolo tried to get closer, only to get pounced on; getting bitten and scratched and screamed at before he managed to grip the siren by the throat without choking him. "That's enough." He growled; normally he wouldn't waste his breath with speaking, but this just seemed like a panicked reaction on the siren's end than a purposeful attack.

There was noticable tension as the siren stopped attacking, a look of fear on his face. Diavolo watched for a moment as the siren lowered his feathers, going somewhat limp. Carefully, Diavolo lowered the siren back down onto the nest, watching as the now wary siren lay down on his side, looking somewhat pathetic still soaking wet. Diavolo stood watch for a few seconds before turning back, walking off to find rags to clean the siren's wounds- if most of the blood and ash hadn't been washed away from the rain already.

Diavolo was not... used to being around other beings like or similar to himself, let alone tending to the wounds of a stranger. As he gathered a few rags, he could hear something... like song. For a moment, Diavolo stopped to listen, seemingly entranced the melody. He broke focus on the singing, trying to return to his task; whilst a siren's voice could, in theory, draw others to them, it was merely bait to lead to an ambush led by the rest of the flock-

...did this siren even have a flock?

Diavolo quietly shook his head, turning back with an armful of rags toward where the siren lay, noting that the song being sung was akin to a lullaby. Once he was in the siren's line of sight, Diavolo could see the siren freeze up and stop singing, feathers standing up in fear.

"...I will not hurt you." Diavolo murmurs, approaching slowly; the siren seemed to calm a little at this, despite trembling. Whatever had happened to him, it must've been horrible enough to make him unusually silent- sirens were not quiet as a whole, and somewhat annoyingly talkative, however, but one going silent was a rather disturbing concept.

Quietly, Diavolo started to tend to the siren's wounds; there were a few cuts, some singed feathers, and a slight burn close to the siren's forewing, but most of the leftover blood did not seem to come from him. Aside from the odd squawk of pain from the siren and a few near attacks, Diavolo managed to finish the task.

"...why?"

Diavolo was a bit surprised to hear the siren finally speak, but the way the words were spoken were of defeat and confusion. Diavolo quietly tilted his head with a growl, a sort of signal to repeat the question, only for the siren to flinch; he had to actually use words to ask again. "...what do you mean, 'why'?"

The siren quietly spoke again, trying not to make eye contact with Diavolo. "Why did you save me?"

Diavolo thought his response over, taking some time before speaking. "You are not a threat to me, nor would there be a point to kill you." He said tersely.

The siren seemed to blink, confused. "But... You could have." He answered back. "You had the opportunity, so why didn't you -"

Diavolo quietly pressed a claw to the siren's lips, a soft and gentle hiss accompanying his response. "Again, there is no point." Diavolo answers, his tone much more quiet, almost worried. He could see the siren try not to look at him, almost as if afraid of him.

The siren pondered the words for a moment, a puzzled look on his face. There was a heavy silence, only punctuated by the sound of rain outside and the chirping of crickets inside the cave. As he lay on his side once again, he spoke again, voice quiet. "So, if you don't want to kill or eat me, then what?"

Diavolo growls shortly and softly, trying to sound as nonthreatening as possible. "I saved your life of my own will. Is that not motive enough?" He asks.

The siren was silent, both from exhaustion and confusion. "...you're, um, you're right, but..." He murmured, eyes fluttering shut and opening intermittently. "But I don't see anyone else-"

Diavolo quieted the siren again, growling in a soft manner. "You don't need to worry about that." He answered reassuringly. "Just close your eyes and rest." He gently reached toward the siren's hair, but stopped when the siren shot up, grabbing his hands in response from the action.

"...don't touch me like that." The siren hissed, irritated. "You're just a stranger to me, so keep your damn hands off of me unless you have to." Whilst Diavolo was surprised, he also was intrigued with the siren's sudden response.

"Of course." Diavolo answers, keeping his answer terse; he could sense that the siren needed to be left alone and Diavolo accidentally crossed a line. The siren let go of Diavolo's hands and laid back down once again, growling softly.

"You can go now." The siren hissed tiredly, turning his back to Diavolo and curling up. "I want to be left alone." Diavolo reluctantly left, deciding that it was best to give the siren some space. Whilst he was a bit miffed he couldn't sleep in his bed, he could adapt to this situation for now.

Diavolo quietly entered a small room, a small pile of skulls in the corner. He settled close to the pile, claws reaching out to pick up one of them as he lay on his stomach. Wherever this siren came from, he was probably far from home and perhaps very homesick.

"...these are strange times." Diavolo mumbles to himself. "Very strange times indeed."

[minimag1c]

Radioapple trick or treat October 2024 have started!!

Hold up it's gonna go downhill from now on-

A cottage in the forest

Day 1 -----> ᵛᵃᵐᵖⁱʳᵉ/ᵉˡᵈʳⁱᵗᶜʰ

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 ✏ 𝐄𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡

A weird human like alternative universe with monsters because why not. I do apologize in advance for Radioapple itself will not be in its forte in this one-shot, only implied and vaguely shown at the end of the small story. Plus, the end was rushed as always

Also Fem! Lucifer hehehe

Tw: Non consentual touching, attempted sexual assault and graphic description of mangled bodies.

Don't get deceived by the tags and the tw, Thomas really deserved his fate

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

There was always something unsettling about the couple who lived near the forest.

Of course the mass of trees that surrounded the small town, filled with myths and stories that were told to the youngest as to make sure they don't go far away, was already a perturbant wonder on its own.

Everything about it was just too much. Too dense, too dark, too big for a normal, simple forest with edible mushrooms and gentle fairies or bunnies.

No there were carcasses and putrid smell lingering just barely reaching the deeper part, some even said that the bones they have found during daylight when some villagers and such would stroll on by were from humans or hybrids, not daring themselves to pronounce the other therm that designed those beyond human imagination and average mind.

Those damned eldrichs.

Constantly roaming in the darkness and jump on their next prey when you least expected it, whispers filling the air before a gruesome scream tore the flying birds, rivers of crimson color flowing down to the city's surroundings each year. Hybrids were innocent, docile does compared to those demons on earth, even leaving their marks craved on the bloodied floor or worse, on their victims' body.

In short, the forest was definitely not the place for any sensitive souls and delicate nature, even the pattern of the darker leaves formed a upside down pentagram, just the perfect cherry on top, creating the panoply of a possessed mother nature.

But those stranger encounters soon somehow stopped abruptly, when the Morningstar/Hartfelt family settled in years ago.

They had a modest, red hut though with small golden accents that was built almost in the heart of the forest, near a recently discovered ruined grove that was dedicated to an unknown moth goddess. They were only four, two parents and two daughters, one being a toddler and soon child. They didn't had an actual "permanent" family name, either switching between a royalty like, "Morningstar" or less ominous and more ok ground, "Hartfelt" but it really depended on each family member's perspective and opinion.

But what statues or bloodline their decided to wear was not the weirdest thing, the rest was.

The father of the children was a hunter and at the same time a quite well known figure in the town. He was the one who delivered the news via papers or orally, alongside with a few colleagues, especially with a tall dark skinned fellow named Zorzi and his partners Carmen and Percival. Constantly flashing a smile almost if it wasn't every day, always dressed nicely and his cane in his hand. Women really loved him, saying that he was "such a charming gentleman" and it was obvious some of them would have wished he was so repulsive when it came to touches.

"Oh to be his wife so badly so he would be so much less cold!" Lamented one of the maidens that sat near Primrose's emporium, after going to the said shop. The older woman who accompanied the young lady raised an eyebrow at her as she scoffed.

"The newspaper man with his horrendous hair?? Beatrice you really got yourself low with this one!"

"Susanna!" Beatrice argued back, slightly offended as the old lady shrugged at her response.

The two kept prattling with each other, occasionally laughing out loud as the shopkeeper looked at the two gossiping through her window, smiling slightly at the exchange while two other young ladies sat at her table, conversating as well.

A pretty girl with long blonde hair firmly tied into a braid sat in front of a way younger and shorter pucelle with bright red hair just like her father and heterochromic eyes. They were a few papers filled with drawings and/or words from all shapes and sizes. The oldest was constantly sitting and getting up, monitoring her sister with writing a few words that were specifically hard for the red haired one to write and grasp the concept. But that was okay, Nadia was a fast learner and her older sister would always cheer up everytime she successfully accomplished a task.

"—Aaaand that's how you do the H in capital! Yes just like that! Good job Nif!" Charlie chipped in, slightly nuzzling on Nadia who giggled wholeheartedly, bringing her sister close with her small chubby hands into an embrace.

Primrose looked at the adorable sight in front of her as she lightly laughed with them, taking a seat alongside with the girls, titling her head to the side.

"Well, it seems that our little miss is learning quickly" The oldest woman chipped in as Charlie looked at her before looking back at Nadia, now deeply focused on writing the letter Q. The older sister smiled as she nodded along.

"She really is getting an hold on writing indeed. She even started to read a bit! Although, the word "nifty" is now her favorite and keep writing that-" Charlie, chuckling awkwardly as Primrose's smile softened before looking outside, seeing that the sun was already going down to its crepusculum.

At that, the shopkeeper frowned slightly. Charlie seemed to noticed that her mood have changed but before the blonde maiden could speak up, Primrose was ahead.

"I think you two should go now. It's getting late faster this winter and who knows what demented or psychopathic people are out there, especially after those rumors who died down about creatures roaming around your home."

Primrose deliberately didn't had to speak about the horrors that townspeople used to see before Charlie's and Nadia's family settled in, knowing the two girls wouldn't be scared because of that.

Speaking of, the blonde girl nodded approvingly while gathering Nadia's supplies and the papers filled with colors, much to the concerned one's disappointment to go back at home so soon.

"Yes I think we need to go now, I really don't want ma' to worry too much, especially for Nadia." Charlie said, helping Nadia to get off her chair as she held her hand, the toddler already showing a small pouting expression on her face. Primrose got up and ruffled Nadia's hair as she booped her small nose, earning a laugh from the nifty little girl before looking at Charlie, slightly concerned.

"Are you two going to be okay? I know you can handle yourself but apparently there has been a perverted man who would harass and follow girls at their houses and God knows what he does after." Primrose said, shaking her head.

Charlie cringed a bit at the fact. Of course, despite living in the forest, Charlie was mainly going to the small town, sometimes without or with Nadia holding her hand or on her shoulders, thus, after almost knowing everyone and the place in general, she knew about those frequent harassment that occurred during these last few weeks. She mainly thought about her friend Celia who have confirmed a hooded figure followed her to her home and if it wasn't for her friend Antoine, who hid her in his own house and almost confronted the mysterious person that soon disappeared, Celia wouldn't have been able to even tell her story.

"That's exactly why we are going early than usual. Plus, our father, at this hour, is still probably." She made a small pause before continuing, smiling brightly at Primrose, trying to comfort her in a way. "But don't worry, Ma'am! I know a few shortcuts who doesn't necessarily goes through the city! It's rusty enough for other people with enough knowledge of the forest to pass in there." the blonde young woman reassured.

At first, Primrose was a tad récitent, knowing that this kind of lunatic individual would still find a way to find any ladies in order to get his filthy hands on and God knows what he was capable of.

After all, it was no mystery.

Everyone knows that when a girl was crying, holding her torn up clothes in the street barely in the morning, saying she couldn't take it off.

Primrose shivered slightly, not wanting to visualize Charlie or worse Nadia in that situation.

Shallowing her concerns and doubts, she smiled back at her protege, her eyes still glimmering with a hint of protectiveness.

"Be careful duckling"

Charlie only nodded.

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

Nyx was not fully awake and at her fully extend but the sky was already getting somewhat a void hue as Charlie instinctively held Nadia's hand a bit tighter. The small crimson haired child too sensed that the atmosphere was drastically different from a few hours ago before the two walked back home.

"Charlie 's dak-" she managed to say as the older girl looked at her fondly, mirroring her slight discomfort.

"I know I know Nif." the blonde maiden could only say, accelerating her pace.

Ever since she was a barely standing roe buck, Charlie walked down those paths alongside either with his pa and his pistol or her mother, holding a basket while hiding her face with a thin red veil as not be disturbed during her daily stroll.

The two kinds of walk she would had were pretty much different from the other: with her father, it was mainly to help her grow a bit her goat esque attributes and abilities, oftentimes during the hunting season letting her do the killing. With hindsight, as much as she wasn't as frivolous as her papa when blood would be leaking through her teeth or claws, she was glad that it helped her a bit to control her own powers a bit and the last thing she wanted , especially when her little sister was born, was being a nuisance for her parents because she didn't had a grip on her powers.

Her mother was the opposite while still being on this line of her being an hybrid.

Usually, during her childhood and adolescence's premises, Charlie would accompany her ma whenever she went to the town or go in the forest in search for apples or strawberries and would let her goat or roe form appear when they would be alone as she would occasionally play in ponds, chases after butterflies while her mother would monitor just in case if anything would harm her and if not, will be minding her own business and do her self-imposed chores. Her way of teaching was definitely less about gruesome techniques or reactions that lead to pulling out claws just in case but it was nonetheless making sure Charlie had some bases in self-defense thus she wouldn't act like a feral wild animal nor a frail, defenseless human.

But either way, no matter what was the education of the other or their own opinions on the do and don't, Charlie would still be the ray of sunshine kind of child and soon to be teenager, a bleeding heart of gold, pouring its kindness endlessly at everyone that she deemed in the need of help, even if it was a vile person. More than once, her parents, especially her pa and in some severe cases her ma, would warn about this behavior that, albeit very honorable, could lead her to a worse situation that would spiral into an irreversible act of horror...

A sudden snap of twig tore Charlie From her thoughts.

Nadia also seemed to heard it as the small girl immediately tensed up, her eyes wide as plate. Charlie's tail lashed out from her dress as it instinctively wrap itself around Nadia who welcomed the gesture, getting closer to her sister.

"Who goes there?!" Charlie shouted out loud pretty much in the void, her eyes unfortunately unable to discern in the dark like her uncle Hery could do and that realization only made her heartbeat go a bit faster.

Soon the sound grew louder, now footsteps could be hear all around the two maidens. Charlie's horns flared up, her now sharp teeth barring at whoever or whatever it was.

"-lp me! Help me!"

Charlie froze and Nadia looked at her sister, not understanding what was happening but knowing that whoever it was, they were in sure danger.

Then, after a while, a battered man came out from the bushes, holding his side for deal life and eyebags ornering his crazed face.

Charlie would have thought it was a living dead if she ever saw one.

The man's gaze was lost and disoriented just like him, his eyes darting around in alarm before he laid his eyes on two.

The duo of siblings immediately felt uncomfortable.

"P-please- ma'am-" he coughed up then wheezed because of his dried up throat as he staggered towards her, his face showing despair. "H-Help me I-i'm dying- p-please-" He stammered in haste.

Charlie took a step back as Nadia couldn't help but let out a whimper of fear at the grotesque character in front of her. The older was less vocal about her discomfort but nonetheless, despite feeling dreadful at his sudden

He was in such horrible shape! The way he was stumbling like an alcoholic, his almost completely maimed body was so disfigured and dislocated in every corners that it was still a miracle he could stand and walk slightly, let alone the fact that he was alive.

Charlie, like the overly helpful and people pleaser she was, was about to let her impulsive acts take the better of her logical thoughts but then remembered it was almost the middle of the night, the only source of any human interactions aside Nadia was him, who appeared out of nowhere and if it wasn't for the smell, Charlie would have thought he was drunk out of his mind.

"It's definitely not safe to help someone at this house, as much as they are in the need-"

"What happened to you-?" The blonde asked loud, her voice uncharacteristically calm despite the circumstances as she consciously held Nadia to her side, the smaller gladly receiving the protective gesture as she wrapped her tiny arms as far as she could around her sister's waist.

The man kept looking around, as if he was searching in the mirksome night anything, paranoia and anxiety engraved on his face, like a wounded wild animal, his legs going shakier through the moments, his hand reaching out.

"I got attacked-!" He almost screeched yet he continuously walked towards them.

He then started to smile. A crazed, hysterical and almost ecstatic one that made Charlie shivers down her spine.

Okay this was very fishy.

Luckily, the blonde's logical and survival instincts took ahead as she frowned at him. "Sorry sir but-" she started but then the mad lad continued, insisting.

"I need help I'm begging you-! Such a beautiful lady like you should understand it-" he suddenly said out of nowhere and Charlie swore a extremely unwanted feeling of want went past through his eyes.

Lust.

In that moment, the blonde only saw one solution: that man was a creep and she needed to be gone as soon as possible.

If it wasn't for Nadia who let out a snarky threatening sound out of her mouth, Charlie would still have been frozen on the spot as she protectively shielded the smaller one, her pupils turning into those one that goats or baphomet creature would have.

The flash of power that betrayed Charlie's true nature took the man aback a bit but that only lasted for even less than one millisecond as his deranged expression came back, while at the same time his walk was choppier but nonetheless more determined, his filthy hands instinctively grabbing Charlie's arms quite roughly.

Charlie's blood ran cold.

Now that was the action that was just too much, ESPECIALLY when he started to whisper albeit loudly, with a disgusting glee sprinkling his words.

"Your arm is so soft."

At that, the blonde growled at him as her eldritch form flared up. Nadia looked up at her sister, sensing her own distraught as she frowned furthermore. The man, as clueless and bold he was, froze up when his brain aknowledged the realization that the innocent, vulnerable maiden that stood in front of him, all alone with her younger sister, was just a façade to guard and hide the monstrosity that plagued this feminine appearance.

But this new information didn't alternated his already perverted mind and his logical senses, unfortunately, unlike Charlie, weren't that sharp.

He soon found himself to smiled again and, if it wasn't for her somewhat still calm and collected mind that defied her raging heart, Charlie swore she would have ripped this smug and disgustingly enamoured expression off his mutilated face.

That guy was just asking, pleading almost on his knees to help her and the next moment after, he tried to gallivant despite standing one nothing but broken bones and blood. He was so fucking pathetic.

He took a big, tentative and daring step but Charlie couldn't move an inch, no matter how Nadia was trembling next to her with her eldritch form getting dangerously oblivious, threatening everyone around friends or foes and her gaze getting redder by the minutes.

"Get the fuck away from us." She managed to snarl out, her now visible tail swishing in strain and uncomfort.

He didn't wavered. Instead, he laughed out simply as if she was being stupid or dense, still stumbling like an alcoholic and yet desperately tried to reach her out again, envy written and coated on his all over being.

"Ma'am don't be so harsh it's true I need help, especially if such an exquisite female like you, perfect to be a future mate."

Charlie was already boiling on her spot, ready to spread bloodshed if needed and was about to let her feral instincts take over.

Until her goat ear flicked up at a barely audible sound.

However, despite falling on deaf ears from normal mortal ones, both Nadia and the creep reacted at the sudden shift of atmosphere who got heavier and unsteady yet fierce, like a kettle on a stove, about to burst out from its fury.

Their reactions were different and nuanced though. The predator was frozen like a deer in headlights and went back to his fearful, avoidant expression like when Charlie have found him first but Nadia was more in awe, her big doe eyes wide as plates and her small mouth agape as she looked around above her head, still in Charlie's protective embrace.

Soon, footsteps could be heard, as if something was running and a faint sound of white noise filled the air.

Charlie instantly recognized the pattern and, as if on time, her and her sister were soon wrapped in a thick but warm black mist with familiar voodoo symbols and runes surrounded the girls. The red haired one loosened up her grip on the elder but instead, she grew heavier as her eyelids started to flutter softly, leaning her petite corpulence to Charlie who yawned softly, feeling a sudden wave of sleepiness and sloth empowering and taking a hold of her energy. It would have been alarming for anyone sensed enough but the blonde knew her father, despite his never ending thirst for blood, was a caring and easily worried parent, getting even more cautious after Nadia's birth and Charlie already knew what was this weird feeling she was having alongside with her sibling, a spell to insomnia or just wanting to sleep in general and, knowing the context of what happened, it was better to put both her and Nadia in Morphée's arms.

The screams of agony and terror as well as the sounds of bones crushing and flesh ripping seemed like a lullaby.

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

"How was your day with Aunty Primrose duckling?" Lucille cooed in her usual soft voice on an evening of autumn, holding Nadia's small hand as she happily jumped around while walking, occasionally stomping on a big puddle if she ever saw one after a rainy day while her mother held her frilly red dress as to not dirty it. Nadia giggled lightly.

"I learned so many words today! She teach me write a few sentences! Look!" She said in a broken lexicon, brandishing out in triumph from her pocket a crumbled, folded paper with a sophisticated and clean handwriting next to a childish, messy one as Nadia grinned widely.

Lucille smiled fondly at her daughter, her heart warming at the sight while the two continued to walk towards their home, with Lucille making sure this time, no one is around to see where the two are going.

Charlie, today, wanted to make a sleepover with her friends Celia and Agatha since, like the teenagers they were, they wanted to discuss the topic about how Antoine had a crush on the bartender Henry and it was a whole operation apparently according to Lucille's oldest daughter.

It was odd but hey, the lady was not in the place to judge. She was young too and her many siblings would occasionally gossip about their mother's interactions with others and even their aunt Romania would join in, spicing their naïve retelling with juicy details.

She couldn't help but laugh a bit at the memory.

"Do you think papa will make dinner tonight?" Nadia suddenly asked, looking at the ground in search for bugs to collect. Lucille shrugged.

"Your father is a very busy man duckling but, I'm pretty sure he'll cook his famous gumbo just for our little sweetheart" Lucille said, pinching a bit Nadia's cheek with a wide smile. At first, the small girl whined in complain because she wasn't used to this touch but then her eyes lit up as she jumped frantically.

"Yay! Gumbo!" She cheered as Lucille laughed at her antics while she swinged her lightly, making the other laugh as they almost arrived at home.

The two needed to get Nadia's thoughts away a bit ever since the incident with that vile person. Luckily she didn't seemed that affected and Lucifer and Alastor were glad. Plus, Charlie too seemed to move on and live her own life again, albeit she didn't wanted to talk about it to the others but that's okay, it was her choice and as long as she was fine, Lucille was okay too.

For now, her only task was to clean up properly their new rug with the insignia graved on it "Thomas".

Humans were just that dirty after all, especially their skin and personality.

•• <<────≪•◦⚜◦•≫────>> ••

As you could tell, I gave up in the end lol anyway happy radioapple Halloween week I hope I'll be able to finish 6 other days at least wish me luck 🫡

[25/10/2024]

(3846 words)

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Wattpad version

Archive of our own version

[monkmain2]

I should probably make some kind of doc to organize all this random shit

Anyway, more paragraphs of text!!!!!!!!!!! hooray!!!!!!!!!!!!

The list so far (+ their weaknesses, if any):

Friendly NPCs:

-Lucille

-The Valravn

Enemies:

-Stymphalian birds (poison)

-Bugbears (none)

-Bunyips (none)

-Hoop snakes (none)

-Hodags (unkillable)

-Hellhounds (holy water) (demonic creature)

-Vetalas (holy water, fire) (demonic creature)

-Pouākai (fire)

-Chupacabras (water)

-Jaculi (unkillable)

Bosses:

-Wyrm (none)

-Manananggal (holy water) (demonic creature)

-Grootslang (none)

-The Each-Uisge (fire (also air, but this weakness is not utilized in-game.))

At this point, I should probably introduce some passive creatures, huh? (note: none of these are in the 4th area.)

Dragons: small, skittish creatures. Can be killed in one hit. Drop different elemental scales depending on the type of dragon, shown by the color. They are weak to certain things, but since they die in one hit, this doesn't really matter.

Blue dragons: ice element (fire, water)

Yellow dragons: electric element (water)

Red dragons: fire element (water, air)

White dragons: air element (ice, electricity)

Green dragons: plant element (ice, fire)

Purple/brown dragons: poison element (fire, air)

(the plant element just increases range, it is not extra effective against anything.)

Jackalopes, Al-Mi'raj: basically the same creature, the only difference being their sprites. Both are skittish, even more so than dragons, and it’s easier to kill them by stunning them with projectiles rather than chase them down. They can be killed in one hit, and their bodies used as a distraction for creatures like Pouakai.

Skvaders, Wolpertingers: like Jackalopes and Al-Mi'raj, except they have wings and can fly.

“Stray” Deer, Unicorns, Pegisai, Alicorns, Horses, etc: Can’t be killed and are always seen at the edge of the screen. attempting to get closer results in them running off-screen. There is a 5% chance for a deer to be albino. (“Strays” are creatures that bear a resemblance to ET’s intelligent animals but act like they do in our world.)

Púcaí: found in rooms adjacent to rooms with holy altars used to create holy water. They cannot be killed, and they are not afraid of the player, but they will attempt to keep at least three tiles away from the player. They make little trilling sounds and flee if an enemy is near.

Tsukumogami: moving cups, bowls, utensils, knicknacks, etc that sometimes appear at campsites. They bounce around and make soft clinking noises. They also can’t be killed.

Amphisbaena: they just walk around and nibble on the ground. They can be killed with two hits (one for each head) and used like any other small animal carcass.

Birds: skittish, 1 hit, can fly, regular carcass uses.

Squirrels: skittish, 1 hit, can climb trees, regular carcass uses.

Rats: skittish, 1 hit, regular carcass uses.

Wendigos: what’s that in the treeline? It’s looking at you. You can’t make out its form. It doesn't seem to be hunting you yet. It is simply here to observe.

More NPCs you can talk to because yes

The Kitsune: can be found sitting near holy altars. Will tell you things if you give them a bird to eat. This particular Kitsune has six tails.

Things they say:

Ahh, a little calf. Greetings. I am Kitsune. I am the bearer of much wisdom. Bring me a bird, and I'll answer one question.

- What is this thing?

This, my friend, is a holy altar. It radiates holy energy and drives away demonic creatures.

- What can I do here?

At this altar you can endow certain items with holy energy.

- What items can I endow?

Slow down, my friend. I’ll tell you one of them at a time. Firstly, a glass container filled with water.

- What is another item?

First time asking: try a scale from a fire dragon.

Second time asking: a wooden stake, perhaps?

Third time asking: that is all I have to give on this matter, my friend. If you desire one of these nuggets of wisdom again, you may ask. No further charge.

Also, what the items do:

Holy stake: can be placed on the ground, crating a bubble of holy energy that demonic creatures cannot enter

Holy fire: when thrown, it seeks out the nearest enemy weak to fire.

The Nymphs: three of them in total, found sitting near large trees in each of the first three areas. They are named Melaina, Kleodora and Corycia (no relation to the Thriae from greek mythology, i just used those names because there are three of them) 

Things they say:

Kleodora (area 1): well, well, well. Running away, little satyr? Just like your kind to do so. Drunken lustful bastards, the lot of you. If you weren’t so young, I'd be making your life a lot harder. But I can't bring myself to inconvenience a child. Run along now.

Melania (area 2): hello little calf. My sisters and I have been watching your journey thus far, and I must say, you are one resilient little goat. You have my support. if you talked to Kleodora: oh, and don’t mind what my sister said. She’s a bit of a downer.

Corycia (area 3): I must admit, I'm surprised you made it this far. Very impressive. Very impressive indeed. But I doubt you’ll survive the swamp. If you talked to Melania: my sister is very optimistic, don’t you think? I hope you understand she was only saying that to reassure herself.

Shadow people: occasionally, humanoid shadows will appear at campsites. You can talk to them, but they serve no other purpose.

Things they say: (dialogue is randomly picked from a pool containing the following phrases)

-A satyr, in the woods…

-Did you hear, did you hear?

-strong, fast, strange, strange…

-beware of the horses, beware, beware.

-thank you, thank you.

-again and again and again…

-persist, persist.

-The shadows will not take, the shadows will not hurt.

-always watching…

The Ichthyocentaur: the only friendly creature in area 4, found in the first camp of area 4.

Things he says:

Ah, there you are! Welcome to my humble abode. I have set up several camps in the swamp. You need a place to rest, after all?

Why are you helping me?

You are an interesting specimen, my boy! Many deities of this forest have been watching you, but I am the only one with the foresight to help. We don’t get many intelligent visitors, after all. Enjoy your stay!

Thank you, I suppose.

Also an enemy

(Redcaps)

Those little guys are redcaps. They’ll throw rocks at you. You can’t stab ‘em to death, the only thing that works is holy water. It doesn't matter how much holy water, even a single drop’ll do it.

And now the horses

As you know if you’ve bothered to read these war crimes, the fourth area is a stealth level with a bunch of water horses

Anyway horses

Ceffyl Dŵrs:

A stationary threat. Emits light. As long as you stay out of the light, it will not see you. If it sees you, it will run towards you, grab you, fly up into the air then drop you from high offscreen, killing you on impact.

Kelpies:

Walk back and forth slowly, letting out enticing music as shown in the form of shockwaves that travel linearly from its mouth. If it sees you, it will let out more noises, and if you get hit by a shockwave, you will start walking towards it. If you touch it, you will be killed, but if you manage to inch your way into the next room, you’ll be able to get away.

Nuckelavee:

(these guys actually can’t touch freshwater so i’ll just say this swamp connects to the ocean)

They walk in a circle, leaving a trail of deadly green gas behind them. If they spot you, they will rear up and dash towards you, trying to run you over.

Nuggles:

Nuggles are not in of themselves dangerous, but if another horse is nearby they will alert them of your presence if it spots you. They travel in a zigzagging path up and down the screen.

Tangie:

Walk along the edges of the screen. If it spots you, seaweed will burst from the water and pull you under, killing you.

Nykur:

Stationary and completely harmless so long as its backside is not touched. If it is, you will become stuck to it, and it will drag you underwater, killing you.

Glashtin:

Wanders in a slightly irregular circle. If it sees you, it will run over and attempt to, uh. Mate. with Lucas. Because he’s part livestock. Obviously, this will not go well, and Lucas will bleed to death from his anus.

[n0t-1nt3r3st1ng]

Wednesday AU but with Wednesday as The Vulture because I can't believe no one has brought it up yet.

Wednesday Addams stands on the catacombs beneath her ancestral home and gazes upon the latest upgrades she has made to her creation.

The Exo-Suit was now a metallic body armor, outfitted with a pair of talons and retractable wings, a detachable steel harness that allows her to fly. She examines the new turbines and drums her fingertips over the feather-like edges of its wings.

Wednesday takes a look around and takes in the catacomb's sinister charm. She takes a deep breath and her lungs fill with an otherworldly chill that clings to the marrow of her very being. The scent of decay, a mélange of rot and decayed memories, hangs heavy in the air, assaulting the senses and invoking a somber melancholy. Each breath draws forth a taste of mortality, mingling with the dampness of the soil, reminding all who dare enter of the ephemeral nature of existence.

In this forgotten realm, beneath the pallid moonlight's feeble glow, where shadows dance in macabre delight lay the remains of the Addams family. Carcasses of ancient tombs line the path, their weathered stones bearing faded epitaphs of lives extinguished long ago. Gone but not forgotten. Ghostly phantoms seem to linger in the dimness, their ethereal forms emerging from the sepulchers, trapped between the realms of the living and the dead.

While the more modern members of the family rested in the cemetery near the house, the Addams clan has the tradition every ten years of gathering to dig up their oldest deceased and transport them for safekeeping. A tradition started after a group of puritan barbarians had desecrated the remains of Gomez great-great-grandparents and severed their connection to the mortal realm. And while they paid for their offence, the fear that such travesty may happen again was never forgotten.

It's in this sacred place where she has chosen to store her project. Of course, she only did so after receiving the blessing of every ghost and spirit who inhabited these sacred grounds and her parents. So, in an unused corner of the cavern, laid a modern set of lights, power tools and whatever else she might need. There's also a small working table where Pugsley works on a few projects of his own.

Wednesday smiles to herself as she remembers how it all started. The Battle of New York, the media called it. Aliens invading New York, like out of an Orson Wells novel. Of course the entire family had rushed to see the aftermath. Wednesday had been interested in witnessing such an event, even willing to endure the almost eight hours confined in the family's car with her parents' brand of affection.

While her family strolled around and took pictures of the devastation, Wednesday tried to see if any alien remains were left. She had brought her special autopsy kit with her. Sadly all corpses had been removed by the time they had gotten there.

But the trip proved not to be a complete waste of time. While a few government agents tried to remove her family from the site, she had managed to sneak to where the remains of the vehicles used by the invaders were being stored.

She witnessed the workers tossing strange glowing devices of what could only be power sources laying in a pile without guards. She simply had to have it, if only one.

While she waited for an opening she managed to hear the foreman instructing the workers on how to dismantle the ships. She listened to his explanations with an almost religious fervor. The list of things she craved grew the more he spoke.

Eventually a government agency had descended upon the workers like crows on a corpse, minus the natural elegance the birds possessed. What was said and by whom Wednesday didn't know or cared, all it mattered was that she was able to get her hands on a few items she had set her sights on.

Returning to his family was a more challenging task than she had anticipated but this too she managed to achieve. Her family praised her for obtaining such interesting souvenirs but she didn't listen to them. Wednesday's attention was solely dedicated to the items.

She practically ran to her laboratory once the car reached House, who struggled to open the doors in time for her. Wednesday devoted herself to learning as much as she could to the point she sometimes had to remember her writing hour. She had finally found a challenge hard enough to motivate her.

She, who had learned to revive the dead for a highschool project. She, who had bested some of the finest fencers in the world before the age of fifteen. She who had mastered every instrument in the mansion, who could speak every language all the other Addams could.

And there was the problem. She was a highly capable young woman who could, and would, accomplish whatever goal she set for herself. In short, she was bored.

But this? The prospect of the unknown was too tempting to ignore. To learn more, to do more.

Eventually she reached a limit. Whatever it was due to her limited resources or her lack of more specialized information, she hit a wall on her research.

That's where her family came in.

Uncle Fester was all too happy to look where the rest of the technology had been stored. Even Pugsley, after certain 'encouragement' from her part, had tried to look on the Internet.

The answer to her questions came not from them but from Grandmama who was able to pinpoint the location using a simple tracking spell with a quartz, a map and a bit of the energy from the alien device.

The family was all too happy to help her steal from the vaults where the devices were stored. It was quite a bonding exercise for them and one Wednesday enjoyed immensely, even if she'd never admit it out loud. But as successful as they were, their glee was cut short when they realized their loot wasn't as varied as they expected. The government had the foresight not to store everything in one place. All the family had were the energy sources and a few scraps of the ship.

Information gathering became Wednesday's new obsession to the point she broke her golden rule. She learned about computers. She learned how to program on a computer with the same intensity she gave everything else in her life. Had her thirst for knowledge not been so intoxicating she'd have been ashamed of herself. But she had to know.

It soon became clear those in power wanted the elements as separated as possibly. Being the government, there were bound to have plenty of mistakes and slip ups. Soon it became common for news of extravied technology in the hands of those who didn't know or appreciate what they had. Wednesday trembled with fury every time she learned of this. For those people to own those pieces was like tossing pearls to the pigs.

Her indignation gave birth to an idea. If Grandmama was able to track the energy signatures, why not track the missing pieces for herself?

The idea came with its challenges but she was nothing if not resourceful. Eventually she decided for a propulsion wingsuit design which she'd adapt to her needs. There was something about flying alone under the pale moonlight that was simply irresistible to her. First attempts were unsuccessful, much to her chagrin, but she was determined to succeed. No matter how many times she'd have to kick Pugsley off the roof of House.

Progress was slow but constant. Eventually she managed to create a working suit, a bit simpler than she'd prefer but it was good enough for its purpose. The suit went through several more versions until it became impossible to keep it in her lab. After careful consideration, she decided to request permission to use the catacombs and the cave system beneath the house for a discreet entrance and exit. Sometimes, when there was nothing more to do, Wednesday suited up and flew under the moon with the spirits of her relatives by her side.

Thus, Wednesday Addams developed a new routine. In the morning she'd attend the Normie school like any other teenager, in the evenings she'd work and upgrade her project. She'd still dedicate one hour of her time for writing at night and would also make time to socialize with her family during her breaks. Her weekends would be spent chasing after the pieces or clues for new vaults. Rinse and repeat.

Progress was, again, slow but constant. Until it wasn't. It soon became clear Wednesday had mined every useful bit in the state of New Jersey. It was time to move to a different hunting ground. To leave the nest, so to speak.

She wasn't ready to move to the big times, this she knew very well. Try as she might, Iron Man's armor was leagues above her. For now. She needed somewhere an Outcast wouldn't stand out. Somewhere between her town and a large city and enough traces of technology to make it worth her time.

The answer came to her as a consequence of her actions. Avenging Pugsley from those who thought could hurt her brother with no retaliation. She proved them wrong and in doing so it led to her parents to transfer her to a new school. In a different state, to a booming city, one where Outcasts weren't just accepted but needed. One where Grandmama's spell confirmed the presence of multiple energies.

Jericho City.

Yes, it would serve her purposes well enough.

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

The Dragonborn | M!Reader x Geralt of Rivia | Part II

Note: I split the oneshot because damn 12k does nobody want to read in one go xD

Fandoms: The Witcher (TV Series), The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim

Warnings: Non-Canon Story, Swearing, Gore, Slight OOC

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier meet a stranger in the woods while on the hunt for a special monster. They decide to team up but neither does Geralt realize that his prey is close to him nor does the stranger notice he's the one being hunted...

Word Count: 6938

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name!

Please note that The Witcher is supposed to be around the Middle-Age. Homophobia existed. 

Part I

_______

A few hours later, after they had eaten the rabbit, they began to look for tracks of the monster. There were a lot of them. For example, the scorched moss where Geralt almost turned into roasted meat, the dark footprints in the dirt, and the fallen trees. 

The witcher was impressed by how good the warrior from Keizaal could search for tracks. 

“You see that, Jaskier? The way the claws dig in the ground? It means the claws of the dovah are really big. That’s pretty unusual for female dragons, so it’s obvious we’re dealing with a male. But we uh... know that because Odahviing is male.”

While Jaskier and Y/N genuinely searched for any signs he just stared at the foreigner. He somehow felt like he had found a kindred spirit in the man standing in front with his back facing him. 

A weird association, but there were only a few things that could really impress Geralt. 

Magic, Fighting Skills, and usually breasts. 

Which made him sound like a skirt chaser, but that wasn't it. It just meant what it meant. Dicks definitely didn't attract hi-

"What the hell?"

He lifted his eyes from the lower body of Y/N, and his breath hitched when those e/c eyes pierced his. Did he see...?

"The footprints are gone!"

Oh. That.

"That does make sense... Or not? It's a dragon, after all? They can fly. Or not? Can they?"

 Jaskier stepped in front of him and obstructed his view on the other. Geralt turned and touched his face. His cheeks were burning. What's gotten into him? He remembered something Yennefer had told him once as a half-joke. 

I sometimes think that if I haven't met you, you would have chosen someone who fights like you, thinks like you, who lives like you. And from what I believe that someone would have been a man. Because it needs a brute to move a brute's heart. 

While his head was filled with thousand thoughts, Y/N and the bard inspected the tracks closer.

"It can't be that he took off. Do you see how the footprints are as deep as the others? If he wanted to fly away, they would be deeper because he had needed to shift his weight."

"Is that something you learned while hunting for the other dragons with the Dragonborn?"

The man from Keizaal nodded. Some locks fell into his face, and his expression was thoughtful while he searched for a plausible explanation. Geralt could see every feature of his sharp e/c eyes. 

They were different from Yennefer's violet ones, their spark was different, but for other people, they must be as enthralling as the eyes of the sorceress to him. That's at least what he believed. They had a particular pull. He didn't feel it, but it was there. Puzzling, but powerful. 

A cough pulled him away from Y/N's eyes, and Jaskier stared at him with a grin. 

"What?" he asked, his voice almost defensive.

"Nothing," responded his friend with a knowing undertone. What the hell was going on?

"Well, I can't think of anything that happened. Witcher, what about you?" 

The mesmerizing eyes turned to him, and he blinked. What was the question?

Thankfully, I always have a good answer ready. 

"Hmm." 

He shifted and knelt to see the footprints up close. They had a certain distance to each other as if the dragon was walking slowly. Y/N was right; he couldn't have flown away, the marks were too shallow. Either he disappeared into thin air, or the monster had an amazing control when it came to his weight.

 "Strange..." was all he said.

He focused on the sounds around them, but there was nothing extraordinary. Just the whistle of the wind, a few birds singing, and the steady heartbeats of the other two men. It was a dead end. 

"Fuck."

He looked up, surprised that he and the warrior of Keizaal said the same thing at the same time. Y/N shot him a grin, and Geralt snorted. 

"Maybe we should try to set up a trap"

He turned and watched Jaskier's expression. It was a good idea, and they didn't have any other options, besides he wasn't really in the mood to search the whole forest for the dragon. The h/c haired man agreed and pulled a bow out of his satchel. The bard's eyes once again widened.

"I want a bag like this too."

"If you don't want to carry your things anymore, you can give them to me. I'll store them."

Jaskier smiled brightly, and Y/N returned it. Something flared up in Geralt's chest, but he ignored it. Damn bruises make my chest hurt. 

The bard gave the foreigner their things, and he put them in his satchel. 

"Let's think about the trap," the warrior tested the string of his bow and then focused his eyes on Geralt and Jaskier. 

"Dragons are usually very picky about their food, but I belie- know that Odahviing is fine with deer meat. We should hunt some." 

.

And they did. With the help of Geralt's tracking skills and crossbow and the Y/N's bow, they easily got two does. Although it took a while to find them since most animals steered free of the area where the dragon rampaged. 

Geralt and Jaskier only watched, while Y/N slashed the throats of the already dead animals. 

"Dovahs have a keen sense of smell; we have to cover our own scent."

He continued to drench his hands with the blood and even smeared some on his neck and armor. When he couldn't hear the other two approaching, Y/N turned around and tilted his head questioningly. 

"U-Uh, what did you say?" asked the bard and avoided his gaze. 

“What? Did I say something wrong? Can you... Is it a sacrilege to use doe bloo-"

 Geralt interrupted him. 

"We couldn't understand what you said because you spoke in a different language." 

Y/N widened his eyes, and an apologetic look crossed his face. 

"I'm sorry...”

Jaskier’s slightly odd expression concerned him and he examined the witcher. Geralt was more intrigued than scared by the fact the atmosphere in the woods seemed to have changed as soon as the other spoke in his probably native language. 

The fact that Y/N’s voice got a lot deeper while he spoke, caused a shiver to run down his spine. The foreigner apologized again and then added:

“I said the dragon could smell us. We should cover our scent with the blood."

Jaskier didn't seem to like the idea, but the witcher nodded and followed his advice. 

Soon the bard's and his hands were stained with doe blood. Geralt was unaffected by it since he already got used to it by hunting monsters for years, but the other man looked a little pale. 

The warrior watched their actions and then approached the white-haired man. His yellow eyes followed all of his movements. 

"You should also put some on your throat... It’s a place where a lot of sweat gathers." 

As soon as Y/N touched his collarbone and neck, Geralt stiffened. Actually, he froze. Something about another man touching his carotid artery was really intimate. His nose caught the smell of iron, moss, and smoke. 

Someone who lives like you. 

Yennefer's words replayed in his mind, and he couldn't stop himself from unconsciously moving his head closer to the other man. 

The warrior was only a few centimeters smaller than him, his head reached up to his eyebrows. The hands on his throat were rough and slippery, but they touched him with such gentleness, Geralt had to shiver. 

He gulped, and his adam's apple pressed against Y/N's palm. The afternoon sun danced on the other man’s scars, and eyelashes and Geralt wondered if every man had such long ones. He breathed in and closed his eyes. 

Is this the essence of a kindred spirit?

Suddenly Y/N's hands disappeared from his throat, and he could no longer feel the warrior's presence so close to him. 

“Put some on your cheeks too.”

A little disappointed, he opened his eyes and noticed that the other man had already turned and now approached Jaskier just to do the same thing to the bard that he did to him. 

Y/N's bare hands touched his friend's throat, and neck and Geralt suddenly had a very, very dark thought. 

Abruptly he turned around and covered his lower face with his hand. 

Did I... About this man...? 

He could feel how heat crept up his neck, and he questioned the emotionlessness that every witcher was supposed to have. 

What the fuck was he thinking? He has Yennefer! 

Or at least had. Their relationship was somewhat in the stars at the moment. After their rather big fight last time... 

Geralt didn't know why that mattered though.

He buried the fluttery feeling that had sprouted in his chest when the other man had touched him. 

What he didn't realize, Y/N's heartbeat was pounding faster after the physical contact they had just shared.

-

After they had covered their scent with deer blood, they also smeared some dirt on their armor and clothes, much to the dismay of Jaskier. Then they decided to set up their stakeout one hundred meters away from the carcasses. 

It was close enough to quickly attack, but also far away enough for them to be safe in case the dragon wanted to grill them. They sat on the mossy ground and leaned on the trees surrounding them.

"Now, all we have to do is wait."

Patience was something every hunter was supposed to have, and both Geralt and Y/N obviously had it. The bard, on the other hand... 

The witcher's left eyebrow twitched in annoyance. After his friend had whistled, he began to eye the two men. Jaskier's stare felt like a cockroach was crawling over his body. He had a bad premonition about the weird behavior of the brown-haired man. He glared at him, but he just grinned. 

Stop staring! 

Geralt turned his head away and noticed how the warrior from Keizaal seemed to concentrate on something around his neck. He clenched and unclenched his fist with an absent expression. 

He watched for a while and then realized that Y/N was holding a ring that he wore on a necklace. 

A sinking feeling appeared in his gut, and he suddenly felt like a mountain weighed his shoulders down. 

"You have a wife?" 

His mouth was faster than his thoughts. 

The man startled and then shared eye contact with him. 

"Something like that..." 

Geralt frowned a little. What kind of answer was that? He stared at Y/N with a hard look, but the other added nothing else, just sighed and hid the ring under his heavy armor. 

The witcher only grunted and turned to face the direction of their trap. 

Shit, why was he so annoyed? 

The idea of the warrior having a doting wife waiting for him in Keizaal made his heart clench, and his chest felt tight. 

This time he couldn't blame the bruises on his rips. 

He finally acknowledged that the h/c haired man intrigued him and caused some rather odd feelings to rise. 

But this... Why... Why the fuck was he feeling jealous? 

And it wasn't even that the man had a wife, no; he was jealous because some woman had Y/N. 

That dragon must have indeed killed some of his brain cells. 

His yellow eyes traveled back to the other man's figure. His broad shoulders were hidden under his armor, but Geralt had seen them. 

Just after he had woken up, he had seen the man in regular clothes. Although he had worn a shirt, the witcher had been able to see how muscular Y/N was. 

His body seemed to be covered with scars. Tiny cuts on his hands, big slashes on his collarbone, and even some nasty ones close to his throat. Geralt was sure there were many more, but he wasn't able to see them. They were proof of fierce fights and the experiences the man had had to go through. 

Was it weird that they attracted him? 

Like the hands in his dreams that had traveled over his, the Butcher of Blaviken wanted to trace Y/N's scars with his fingers. He wanted to feel how his body had healed him, wanted to know the story of every scratch and bruise, wanted to touch the energetic muscles bursting with strength. 

A flame of desire began to burn in his body, and he lowered his head to hide the dark expression he wore on his face. 

These thoughts needed to stop; they would only become problematic in the future. 

Geralt scratched his neck and then examined the brown-red flakes under his fingernails. 

He felt a stare on his body again, and he sighed. 

God damn Jaskier...

When he lifted his head, he was surprised to see that it wasn't the bard who looked at him but the warrior from Keizaal. Y/N's e/c eyes were unfathomable, but he showed a somber expression. He paused for a second, and the world seemed to turn slower. 

The witcher could see every blemish on the other man's skin, every mole, every freckle. Geralt breathed in slowly, and the warrior's hair swayed in the wind. 

He's so handso... The wind?

Geralt abruptly stood up. 

"The-the wind turned!" he muttered and gulped. His cheeks felt hot, and he bit his lip. Jaskier frowned.

"Doesn't this mean that our smell would be...?" 

Y/N sighed and nodded. 

"Is a lake close by?" 

The bard shook his head. 

"But, we're only a few miles away from the sea."

The witcher watched the other man closely while he questioned the other's exhausted expression. 

"The wind has turned due to the late afternoon. We should move."

Geralt and Jaskier only watched when the other stood up and grabbed his bow. 

"Why not wait until the wind turns again?" asked the bard, and he followed after the h/c haired man. 

"That won't be the case until tomorrow. The sea has saved the warmth from the sun while the land cooled down. We have to wait until the land is warmer again." 

Jaskier eyed Y/N carefully. Geralt could already guess what he was thinking. He understood what the warrior from Keizaal meant. He learned about it when he was training to become a witcher. 

"So, what are we going to do now?"

They both contemplated for a while and then Geralt spoke:

"Maybe we should indeed wait for tomorrow. I think it would be best if you tell us some more things about your dragon before we storm into this unprepared." 

He tried to suppress a triumphant smile when the other two agreed. Of course, he wouldn't admit that he actually just wanted to spend some more time with Y/N. 

He had a thought that they wouldn't meet again after this whole thing was over. 

"Then what do we do about the deer corpses?" asked Jaskier, and it was a reasonable question. If they left them, they could attract other animals... 

Both the witcher and the warrior looked at each other and then huffed. The bard just stared between them, and his face gradually darkened.

"You're not... thinking about eating them are-are you?"

-

Two hours later, they had put up a camp close to a clear pond and already roasted some rabbit meat. 

They had buried the does, and although the physical labor was annoying, Jaskier was relieved that the two brutes didn't decide to eat them. The dead animals had been lying in the sun for a long time after all. 

Y/N was peeling his armor off and thinking about the situation he was in right now. 

The fact that they were on the hunt for a dragon excited him. Not the actual part of the chase but the fact that he would meet another specimen of his current best friends. 

After he had killed Alduin, he had lost himself in a killing spree. Paarthurnax had warned him to get a hold of himself, but he wasn’t able to. His dragon soul caused him to lose all rational thoughts.

When he finally realized that he could learn so much more about Akatosh and the dovahs, he had already committed mass slaughter, and Odahviing and the wise dragon from The Throat of the World were the last ones of their species. 

Or that's at least what the three of them had thought. But they were wrong, and now he had the chance to meet another dragon! And probably also the chance to go home. If he wanted to.

But first, they had to get a hold of him. 

"Jaskier?"

He faced the bard who currently played on his lute while also watching the fire. He hummed in response and looked up.

"We should wash off the blood in the pond. Do you want to go first?"

The man seemingly wanted to say yes but then shook his head and responded with a slight grin:

"No, you can go first. I'll watch the rabbit."

Y/N furrowed his brows but then smiled and thanked him. He left the pile of his armor and Jaskier behind and wandered to the pond, which was located behind some trees and big boulders. 

The view from the camp was obscured, which meant he had some privacy. Not that he cared much, but he would rather not show his back to the two other men. Since it showed one more change he had gone through in the last year.

Although Geralt wasn't currently in the camp anyway, he left to get some more branches for the fire.

The man carefully opened his shirt and took it off. His boots, pants, and underwear soon followed suit, and he stepped to the shore where some reed grew. 

The water was cold when he stepped in, but he endured it. His muscles just tensed a little. 

Y/N walked in further until the water reached his abdomen. He wasn’t even halfway in the pond, it was fairly big. 

He sucked in some air when he lowered himself into the water until it reached his chin. He had to rub his skin a little, but then the water around him turned slightly red. 

The man watched how the deer blood twirled, and he stared at his reflection. The red blood on his cheeks conjured a cursed memory in his head, and he heaved. 

Hii los dur, Dovahkiin. Hi aal krii zu'u nu nuz zu'u ahrk pah dii Zeymah fen koraav hi mah wah hin daan. You are cursed, Dragonborn. You may kill me now, but all my brethren and I will see how you fall to your doom. 

The ominous words of the last dovah he had killed echoed in his mind. He hugged himself, and his fingers touched his shoulder blades. 

The skin was still shedding. Y/N sighed. What was going on with his body? The shedding had started a few months ago but he had no idea why. 

And since it only started after he had arrived here he couldn’t ask Odahviing or Paarthurnax.

He breathed out slowly and then dived underwater. 

The coldness cleared his head a little, and he relaxed slightly. His feet left the muddy ground, and for a moment, he floated. 

If I could just stay like this... 

His hand clenched to a fist, and he released some Magicka. The small pressure on his nose disappeared, and he automatically breathed in. 

Air filled his lungs, and the Dragonborn smiled. Peace washed over him, and he spread his arms. 

He slowly floated to the surface, and his face broke through it. Water droplets pearled from his cheeks and eyelashes, and he stared into the sky. The tree crowns whistled, and he watched how some clouds traveled across the darkening sky. The sun was already setting. 

This was the ending of the first day together with the bard and the witcher. Geralt's face came to his mind, and he bit his lip. 

The white-haired man reminded him of Farkas, but he was also completely different. His attitude for example. Farkas was openly benevolent and also voiced his concerns. The witcher seemed to be reluctant. Although Y/N was able to feel that he cared deeply for his friend. 

They shared the same keen instincts, but Geralt's came from the harsh trials witchers had to go through while his love had them because he had been a werewolf. 

I can't believe that you chose Farkas over Vilkas. Do you like strength more than brains? 

Aela's voice sounded in his head, and Y/N huffed. 

The huntress had probably been right. He was attracted to the Butcher of Blaviken. These yellow eyes... They had something animalistic and penetrating that stirred an urge deep inside of him. 

He sighed and put his hands on his face. Then he scrubbed and splashed his face with water. 

Suddenly, he caught sight of a person standing behind a tree at the other side of the pond after he had wiped droplets from his eyes and opened them again.

Y/N breath stopped, and a wail got caught in his throat. He abruptly stood up again, although it felt like he had still no ground under his feet. What...? 

Light blue eyes framed by black war paint stared at him with a resentful look.

"Fa-Far..." 

His voice failed, but he agitatedly began to move across the pond, trying to reach his lost lover and husband.

Breath erratic and tears were pricking in the corners of his eyes, but at that moment, he only felt happiness and relief. Farkas was alive!

"D-Dii Shul!" My Sunshine!

The ground suddenly declined, he lost his footing and dived involuntarily underwater. 

Nevertheless, he was still able to hear the words that had left the lips he had kissed so often. 

"So, you've abandoned me."

An ice-cold feeling washed over him, and his heart broke.

No, that's not true! I would never! You were gone! You left me! You died!

A disturbing scream erupted from his throat, and the skin around his mouth tore. The scream turned into a roar, and he clawed at his face. The e/c eyes shook, and the black pupils turned to slits. 

Shreds of flesh got caught by growing claws, and gigantic fangs emerged from the man's jaws. 

H/C hair parted, shrunk, and gave way for two enormous horns. His whole body shook, and his limbs twisted and cracked. His spine grew longer, broke through his lower back, and two bony wings arose from his back. 

The murky water of the pond turned red and swirled around the tremoring creature who rapidly grew until it was able to stand on the pond bed. Flesh turned hard and into black scales. New tissue engulfed its wings and tail and also got covered by rockhard scales.

Burning heat crawled up its throat, and furious flames burst from its maw. It broke through the pond's surface, and the splashed water evaporated immediately. 

The dragon spread its wings, and they created waterfalls when they left the water. The wingspan was as big as half of the pond, and when it pulled them closer to its body ready for takeoff, the leaves and needles of the surrounding trees shook. 

A thunderous boom announced the beast's presence, and it tensed its huge muscles. 

When it thrust off the pond bed, the water turned into waves and flooded over the shore and soaked shoes and clothes. Branches broke like grass when the dragon's wings grazed them, and trees lost all their leaves from the harsh wind which got created.

A scent caught the dragon’s attention and it whipped its head around. A triumphant roar shook the earth when it dashed towards the direction the smell came from.

The beast ignored the scared brown-haired human that stared at it from a small campsite.

-

Geralt was grabbing some more branches when he saw some Celandine, and he swiftly decided to take them with him. They were always helpful, after all. 

Putting the branches on the ground, he knelt and carefully tore the flowers and the not yet bloomed buds from their stems. 

While he stored them, his thoughts trailed off to the mysterious man who accompanied him and Jaskier.

Y/N had sparked something inside of him, and now he was questioning his heart, which confused him even more since the person he found interesting was a man. 

On the other hand, he couldn't quite tell if the feeling in his chest was something along the lines of romantic attraction or just common interest. 

Deep down in Geralt's heart, he knew that him eyeing the other man's ass was definitely not something one would call a platonic interest, but he just couldn't admit that he, who never thought about other men like that, suddenly liked one. 

He didn't feel disgusted, but the thought alarmed him.

He had seen a lot of things during his time as a witcher, and relationships between two men were never something that ended well. Various churches took care of that. 

An image in his head made his fists clench unconsciously.

And there was still Yennefer. They never openly ended their relationship so... Was he still involved with her? He couldn't tell. 

The Butcher of Blaviken sighed and then noticed a pebble in the moss. It had white streaks over its grey shape, and they reminded him of the scars in the foreigner's face. 

Was he seriously associating weird things to Y/N now?

Maybe the other cursed him. 

While he pondered some more about the other man, it took a while for him to notice that the forest had turned unnaturally silent. 

Birds stopped singing as if they held their breaths in fear, and suddenly a roar disrupted the silence. It came from far away, but Geralt was able to hear it loud and clear because of his mutated hearing.

He abruptly stood up and turned towards the direction. It came from the camp, and Geralt's heart sank. 

Please no.

He disregarded the branches he had meticulously collected and started to rush back the way he came from. Thankfully he had taken his swords with him, and he unsheathed the silver one. 

The image of the bard and the foreigner being killed carried his feet forward and pushed him to almost inhumane speed.

He wasn't even halfway back when a shadow cast on the moss stopped him in his tracks. A gigantic black dragon soared through the sky, and his wings caused the surrounding trees to shake. Geralt could feel the wind pressure, and the aura that the beast released caused a shiver to run down his spine.

The witcher grinned darkly. That bastard had an impressive bloodthirst. Geralt's hunter instincts wanted to fight that monster, but his heart worried for his best friend and his potential love interest.

He cursed himself for not taking his small bag with the various vials with potions and bombs, but he had no time to get annoyed because the dragon suddenly dived down, and he had to roll out of the way or else he would have been crushed. 

When he stood up again and turned, he came face to face with the beast's massive head, and his heart skipped a beat. 

Y/N fought against such big monsters? Repeatedly?

His respect for the other man increased significantly. 

Geralt couldn't avoid his legs to tense, but the dragon didn't attack. Instead, its e/c eyes examined him, and the witcher wondered if the monster's pupils acted like a human's because they widened considerably. 

This is a dovah... 

The beast was at least as big as a typical villager house, and Geralt was sure that the spikes on its body would cause massive damage to any attacker. The black scales seemed impenetrable, and the monster slayer seriously questioned his chances of survival. 

He had already felt it before when he had run from the dragon. It wasn't an enemy who he could overpower. If he had to fight, it would be either an overpriced victory or death. But escaping wasn't an option anymore, the dragon's tail had trapped him before the beast.

His grip around his sword tightened, and he was ready to use Quen on himself when the beast shifted and held its head up high. A growl escaped from its throat, and Geralt tensed even more. Unexpectedly, the dragon spoke:

"Dii rii lovaas fah hi. Wo los hi? Hi los ni rok."

The witcher obviously didn't understand, but the voice of the dragon shook him to the core. It was as if someone was screaming in his ear, and he had to press his hands on them. For that, he carelessly let go of his sword, but he felt like his eardrums would explode at any time. 

His chest tingled, and the echo of the dragon's word resounded through his whole body. Geralt's legs gave out, and he fell to his knees. 

The beast lowered its head until its throat almost touched the ground, and then it snorted. 

Hot air blew his hair back, and the Butcher of Blaviken came to his senses again. He needed to get his sword back! Right when he stretched out his hand to take his silver sword, the dragon crept forward until its snout was dangerously close. 

Geralt froze. If the monster decided to eat him now, he would have no time to react. This was the end. 

The realization hit him, and regret washed over him like a seastorm. There were many things in his life that he hadn't resolved yet—many things he wanted to achieve and also many things he wanted to try.

E/c eyes showed up in his mind, and his heart burned. If the dragon ate him now, would they meet in death? 

His eyes flickered to the dragon, and that's when he realized something. 

Although he had no time to elaborate the thought because the dragon moved its head forward until there was merely the distance of a hand between him and the beast. 

He breathed out slowly, and his witcher heart beat faster. He wanted to face his enemy to the last second, but after so many fights, he thought that closing his eyes and embracing death that way seemed more peaceful and freeing. So he closed them and took one last breath. 

I'm sorry, Ciri.

Seconds passed, where he only heard his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Until wind brushed his hair in his face, and he heard a sniff. A rumble shook the earth, and he slowly opened his eyes again. 

The dragon breathed in and sniffed, its eyes closed, and Geralt couldn't believe it when the beast closed the distance, and the scaly snout touched his chest. Black shiny scales only a few centimeters from his face. 

He searched the dragon's eyes, but they were closed. The rumble sounded again, and if he didn't know any better, the witcher would have guessed that the monster was humming.

When it opened its eyes again, and yellow and e/c met, Geralt had an unbelievable thought, and he whispered:

"Y-Y/N?"

The look in the dragon's eyes changed, and it pulled its head back abruptly. 

A growl erupted from the beast's throat, and it only took a matter of seconds for it to tense its muscles and take off the ground. 

Geralt was left in a daze, panic, and realization the only thing he believed to have seen in the dragon's expression. 

Leaves fluttered to the ground, and the deep claw marks in the dirt before him were the only proof for the monster's presence. 

What... What just happened?

The dragon had touched him. He slowly lifted his hand and put it on his chest. It's warm. The dovah had an unexpectedly high body temperature. 

Why did it...? Y/N... Was it really him? H-How...

He remembered something the foreigner had told them. 

His dragon soul was too much for his human body, and he slowly turned into a dovah.

"The dovahkiin..."

Geralt lifted himself off the ground and took off running to the direction the dragon left for.

-

The dragon didn't make it far. 

Geralt saw him soaring through the sky and circling above a clearing in the forest. The witcher could see a small hut standing at the clearing border, and he remembered another thing that Y/N had told him and Jaskier. 

I've been staying here in the forest for a few weeks in a hut half a mile from here.

Geralt slowly realized that his intuition was probably correct.

When he arrived at the clearing, the black dragon had already landed. 

Although it was more like a crash. Long furrows plowed the forest ground. But the Butcher of Blaviken couldn't see the dragon lying there because a strange fog obstructed his view. He was hesitant about approaching the steam, but he really wanted to know if his theory was correct. A voice interrupted his twisting thoughts:

"Bormah, Bormah... Aak dovah!"

It was deep and raspy, and he didn't understand what it said, but Geralt could recognize it instantly. It was him.

Y/N was the dragon.

-

His whole body hurt. 

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" 

Blue eyes watched him with a worried expression. He didn't reply. What was there to say? The dovah needed to die. He was the only one capable of killing them. 

Why couldn't he understand? 

"Think about it, Y/N. You're one of them, so you shouldn-"

"Don't you dare compare me to them! I AM THE DRAGONBORN! Dii Zahkrii kriin Dovah ni aak niin!" 

He knew he went too far as soon as he saw the other's expression. 

Farkas stared at him with slightly widened eyes. 

"Control yourself, Dovahkiin. Or else disaster will fall upon you and the ones you love." 

Arngeir stepped forward and put a shoulder on his lover's shoulder. He could feel how his pupils flickered. Anger welled in his stomach. 

"Don't touch him..." 

His voice was low and threatening. Farkas scoffed, but his face only showed hurt. 

"Don't worry about me, Dragonborn." 

The distance in his words was like a thorn in his heart. The idea that Farkas couldn't understand his thoughts tore his heart in two. Y/N only watched when his significant other walked out of the room, Arngeir following him. 

"Wa-Wait, Farkas, no!"

He reached out his hand to stop him, but the other man was already so far away. 

"Akatosh, Akatosh, help me!"

Tears welled up in his eyes, and a wail escaped his lips. 

Arngeir was right. Disaster fell upon him. 

The skin shedding on his back, his pupils turning to slits, the increased usage of Dovahzul, all were signs for his slow transformation. 

He couldn't believe that the stories Odahviing had told him jokingly were real. His dragon soul was changing his body and personality. 

And now it had happened. He turned into a dragon. 

How many times had he already done that? The witcher mentioned that the monster they were hunting tormented the villagers. 

What had he done?!

The pain he felt after transforming was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. Y/N became the monster he had thought he was slaying when he had eradicated all the dragons from Skyrim.

The scars he had received from all the dovah burned, and shame clung to his heart. 

Why didn't he listen to Arngeir? 

The greybeard was wise and only wanted his best after the dragonborn distanced himself from the Blades. His loved one died because he didn't listen! 

And now he... He turned into an inhumane beast. 

Suddenly he remembered the bard. Did he attack him?! A sinking feeling struck his gut. 

Please, no, no, NO!

What about Geralt? 

Oh Talos... I have to return to the camp!

He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were heavy. He groaned. 

What if the two others were bleeding out while he laid here? If the witcher died... Y/N was sure he could never forgive himself. 

Farkas's death was something that he could slowly overcome, although it took him years, and he still hadn't let him go but... If the witcher's death joined, he was sure his shoulders would give in under all the regret.

Just imagining how these beautiful yellow eyes lost their light, he couldn't take it.

He didn't realize it immediately, but his heart was already in the hands of Geralt. He had already lost. 

Y/N finally regained some strength, and he used it to open his eyes. His vision was blurry, but he could see that the sky had already turned dark blue. 

He knew what lurked in the forest at night. 

The thought reminded him again of the witcher. What an irony that it took the white-haired man less than a day to sweep him off his feet. It was the complete opposite with Farkas. Maybe they weren't that similar at all.

He turned on his side and soon realized that his back felt different. The cold wind gave his arms goosebumps, but his back felt perfectly warm. He lifted his arm and cricked it to reach his shoulderblade. When his fingers grazed his back, he sucked in some air. 

That definitely wasn't flesh. That smooth texture... Y/N would recognize it everywhere. He had felt it so many times after all. 

His back was full of scales.

Panic and adrenaline gave him strength, and he sat up, ignoring the pain that bolted through his torso. Only now did he realize that he was completely naked. 

That shocked him less than the fact that only a few meters away stood the Butcher of Blaviken with wide eyes, his sword in his hand ready to attack. 

"Y-You..." Geralt didn’t continue. 

Y/N opened his mouth but didn't say anything as soon as he saw how the other man flinched.

His heart pounded loud in his ears, and he felt light-headed. He breathed in, it sounded strained.

A smile crept on his lips, and he grinned exhausted.

"Thank Talos, you're alive..."

.

The witcher didn't know what to respond. 

He was frozen although he couldn't tell if it was because the person before him was a fire-spitting dragon or because the man was butt naked. Something that usually wouldn't impress him but after realizing that Y/N attracted him... He was conflicted. 

"You... you turned into a dragon," he finally said with a neutral tone. 

The man sitting in the crater nodded slowly. He looked as lost as Geralt felt. 

Did he not know?

"Are you... Are you the dovahkiin?"

Y/N nodded again, and he lowered his head. 

The witcher could see the shame on his face. After receiving this information, he didn't know what to do with it. It should probably agitate him, all the villagers that had their cattle stolen and all the lost prey on hunts, but Geralt felt nothing. The shock was perhaps too deep. 

One is a sorceress, one a dragon. It seems like I fall in love with extraordinary people. Wait...

His eyes found the e/c ones. Did he really...? Y/n watched him with a conflicted expression. 

"Do you want to kill me?"

The question surprised him; he hadn't thought about it. But he opposed it. 

"Should I?" 

His voice had a challenging undertone, but it sounded light, and his heart fluttered a little when the other man smiled weakly. 

Geralt lowered his sword. Y/N didn't feel like a threat; in fact, he looked defeated. 

The h/c haired man leaned back and exposed his torso. The witcher was right. Even his chest was full of scars, and most of them looked like claw marks.  

A strong warrior. 

"I caused you a lot of trouble. If I have to pay for it, I'll gladly do it with my life. It's not worth much anymore." 

These words caused him to frown. The man sounded like he had already given up. Where was his will to fight? 

The imposing aura Geralt had felt when he stood tall as a dragon was gone without a trace. This man was broken. He couldn't imagine what Y/N had gone through, but he wouldn't let a warrior like him die a fool's death.

"It's true. You caused me a lot of trouble..."

The Dragonborn watched him with an apologetic expression. Geralt eyed him from head to toe, his stare burning.

"But instead of paying with your life, why not pay me with something else?" 

Y/N blinked and stared blankly, then he blushed furiously. The witcher’s heart skipped a beat. 

Did Y/N also...?

It excited Geralt that he apparently knew what he was hinting at and reacted this strongly. It meant he had a chance. Then he remembered the ring. Geralt examined the naked man and realized the necklace was gone.

"Your ring..."

Y/N touched his throat. Nothing was there. Geralt expected his face to turn panicked, but only a melancholic expression showed up. 

"It's fine. It's time to move on."

The witcher didn't pry further, but he knew he didn't have to. The smile on Y/N's lips said enough.

"So, how am I supposed to repay you?" 

The man lifted an eyebrow and grinned. He gulped, he didn't expect the man to be this willing. Suddenly he felt bad about his desires. 

"Toss me a coin."

The warrior from Keizaal tilted his head and puckered his lips. Then he smiled, and his e/c eyes turned into crescents. They looked happy. But most importantly, human.

Warmth spread in his chest. 

He had a thought that his future would be a lot more interesting with the dovahkiin by his side and Jaskier.

Wait...

Both of them opened their mouth and shouted: 

“Jaskier!”

_______

Endnote: Congrats! You made it! Like I said at the beginning, this fic is based on a headcanon of mine. Where the dragonborn slowly turns into a dragon because of his dragon soul. The dovahkiin is able to live a lot longer than any other human due to his dragon nature and it’s taking a toll on him. The scales are something I had imagined from the start. This is a drawing of my dragonborn which I used as inspiration for this fic:

I wanted the story to end in a rather light tone which some might not find appropriate but I honestly got a little exhausted. I wrote this as a oneshot of 12k words, which was definitely too much xD Writing so much is new to me. But I’m proud that I made it this far :)

I wanted Yennefer to play a part here but more like the one of a former lover. She was also a tool to give Geralt a reason why he likes Y/N since he’s officially straight in canon.

I already decided to create a fic where Geralt gets taken to Skyrim but I haven’t decided if it’s going to be a sequel to this yet. We’ll see I guess.

Some sentences that were spoken in Dovahzul were purposely not translated because it was either from Geralt’s sight or it was to show that the dragonborn was slowly changing. But they meant the following:

Dii rii lovaas fah hi. Wo los hi? Hi los ni rok = My soul sings for you. Who are you? You are not him (as in Farkas).

Dii Zahkrii kriin Dovah ni aak niin = My Sword slays dragons not help them

Thank you for reading and being patient with me :D 

[blondrichclosetwitch]

(This what God feel like)

There's a man holding a megaphone

He must have been the voice of God

The bystanders claimed they saw angels

Flying up and down the block

They must have been attached to wires

I saw one laying in the lawn with a broken arm

So I called 911

Well that's one less founded opinion

One more cause for a dispute

So the street filled, like a basin

Up with cameras and their crews

And they washed away the rumors

Leaving just the concrete truth, it was a spectacle

No, I mean a miracle

So then I fell like that girl from a balance beam

A gymnasium of eyes were all holding on to me

I lifted one foot to cross the other and I felt myself slipping

It was a small mistake, sometimes that is all it takes

Now I'm staring at my wrist

Hoping that the timing is right

When the planets will align

There will be no planets to align

Just the carcass of the sun

And those little painted marbles

Spinning senseless through an endless black sky

(And so it never started

And it will never stop

Just like I am and you are)

It was in a foreign hotel's bathtub, I baptized myself in change

And one by one I drowned all of the people I had been

I emerged to find the parallels were fewer, I was cleansed

I looked in the mirror and someone new was there

Still, I was as helpless as a chess piece

When I was lifted up by someone's hand

And delivered from the corner my enemies had got me in

But in all of my salvation, I still felt imprisonment

Inside that holding cell that is myself

So I wait for the day when I'll hear the key

As it turns in the lock and the guard will say to me

"Oh my patient prisoner you have waited for this day

And finally you are free! You are free! You are freezing."

Now I'm staring at the sun

Waiting for it to explode

Because a day is gonna come

Don't know when but it will come

And then we will finally know the way out of here

And I will throw away this wrinkled map

And my chart of stars and compass, cracked

And I'll climb out that tree

All wet with sap to avoid the hungry beasts below

I'll cut out my lover's tongue and sing

Of a graveyard gray and a garden green

And we won't have to worry no more

No we won't have to wonder again about

How this song or story ends

About how this song and story will end

Calm as an angel

I’m the only one left standing

***

These were the first three songs. First I meditated, then I was told to put on nusch. As GOD started to play, the birds started to fly, and then a second group joined them, like a dance as the lyric kept repeating. Watching the sunrise has blown my world open. It is intense, it is a practice.

I definitely never thought I’d be writing about God.

The bright eyes song contains the lyric which is the title of *my* playlist, “that holding cell that is myself”. It’s only ever played a few times. They say this is the 7th time. The first time it played was immediately after I called 911 for Jakk, because I was told he was going to die. I was shown that he was shot up with drugs & tied to a bed. That was March 2020.

The Lou Reed song played while the sun rose. It was magnificent. During this, I thought of how my father never had any Lou Reed records, and I was told to make peace with him.

Also at some point this morning, it was mentioned that something big was about to happen, and I said something like “you guys have been saying that every day”………to which I heard in response “you know how spirits are”, which is a reference to the spirits grasp on time on earth. Things are super fast up there which take much longer down here. So if they say it’s today, it might be two weeks from now.

[positivlyfocused]

Nature Shows Me Love When I Better My Happy

This morning probably was the best result I received so far from my Positively Focused practice. It’s an extraordinary result showing how Universe delights the one who finds alignment with their better, happy place.

I woke this morning feeling joy so deep, I didn’t want to get out of bed. I felt at one with All That Is, and that feeling left me in peace, wherein all was right with everything. And in that, I felt struck in All That Is’ beauty, grace and love.

But when someone experiences such deep and profound spiritual experiences, Universe inspires movement because such movement leads to more and better experiences. Experiences confirming that blessed universal connection.

That’s exactly what happened next.

Joy and fun to come

I got an impulse to go for a walk. The impulse came with a sense of urgency, like I mustn’t ignore it. So I got up, did my morning routine and headed out the door.

A few weeks ago I wrote about an amazing experience had in a nearby park. It involved seeing a raptor in the trees with feathers dancing through the air like snow fall. Then a guy walked by who amplified that wonderful experience with a story of his own.

The park where this happened was where my inspiration directed me this morning. As I walked I had no idea what lie ahead. I only knew how good I felt and how wonderful the day unfolded up to now, even though it was only 7:30 in the morning.

The park was mine. No one else walked the walking paths, played in the grassy expanses, walked among the roses, or sat in the pavilion. My favorite music played in my headphones while the sun shone from my right, its warmth heating the day.

Halfway through the park, despite my headphones, I heard a sound I hadn’t heard before. It was a kind of screech. Even though my headphones muffled it, the sound caught my attention. So much so I made a bee-line straight to where I thought it originated.

The compulsion to follow that sound was so strong, I felt kind of odd, like I wasn’t in charge of my movements. It drew me to a spot in the park I rarely frequent.

That’s when it happened

I heard the sound again, then looked into the trees while turning off my music. The draw of this impulse felt extreme as it pulled me right underneath a medium-sized tree. That impulse drew my vision to the lower-most branch, which swung very low from the tree’s trunk.

There, perched on the branch, was an accipiter known as a Goshawk. I didn’t know the word “accipiter” in that moment. Nor did I know the Bird of Prey as a Goshawk. I thought is was a Sharp-Shinned Hawk or perhaps a falcon. Either way, the sight stunned me.

Little did I know, this was just the beginning.

^^My joyful adventure started with this sighting.

Accipiters are Birds of Prey specifically evolved for successful life in dense forests. These birds are slender with short, broad, rounded wings and a long tail which helps them maneuver in tight areas such as forests. They have long legs and long, sharp talons used to kill their prey, and a sharp, hooked bill used in feeding. They often ambush their prey, mainly small birds and mammals, capturing them after a short chase. They are commonly found in wooded or shrubby areas.

I’ve always adored Birds of Prey, specifically Red Tailed Hawks and Sparrowhawks. Since moving to Oregon, however, my love of raptors expanded. I also love seeing Bald Eagles and Osprey, which populate Oregon’s scenic waterways.

But I never expected to see such birds in Portland’s city parks. This was astounding!

Watching this bird on the branch, I felt awe. But what happened next left me in stunned.

It was good, but got better

While filming the video above, the hawk suddenly disappeared from view. I stopped shooting to find it, but saw it nowhere in trees around me. That’s when my instinct took over, turned my head left and downward.

The hawk landed on the ground just feet from my…feet! Here’s a video of me in rapturous joy as I caught the moment on video:

^^It lands right at my feet! Listen to my joy!

This is incredible, I thought! Understanding how amazing this moment was requires understanding a little about Northwestern Goshawks.

Of the three U.S. and Canadian hawks known as accipiters, the Goshawk is by far the most impressive. As far as accipiters are concerned, they are the largest and most aggressive. Goshawks are favored for falconry the world over. According to state write-ups, Oregon offers limited permits for taking Goshawks for falconry purposes. I met someone with such a permit once. His specimen is exquisite even though I don’t think it’s a Goshawk. I mean, must look at this photo I took!

^^A bird of prey “taken” for falconry by a local falconer. I took this photo last summer at a local school. The owner used the playground as a training camp.

What impressed me most about Goshawks, and my seeing one specifically, is this: It is an uncommon to fairly common bird in Oregon. But they’re usually found in wilderness areas ranging between 1,900 – 6,100 foot elevations along the Cascade, Blue, and Klamath mountains. Even so, here I was face-to-face….or foot-to-foot with one in a city park!

It gets better still!

Just as the bird flew off, I heard another screech, the distinctive sound a Goshawk makes, that now sounds familiar to my ears. This one came from behind me. I turned around and saw anotherGoshawk, only this one fed on a bird it must have caught earlier this morning.

^^A Goshawk manages its kill in on a nearby branch. Astounding!

That’s two separate birds in the same area!

Then I heard yet another screech, again, behind me. When I turned around, I stood literally astounded. For there in front of me were four hawks. Three of them stood on the ground, the fourth on a brach above the others. What were they doing? Playing with sticks!

They threw sticks, tossed seed pods and even stepped on each other’s tails! Never had I seen such playfulness in Birds of Prey. I felt absolutely blessed seeing this display, again, in a city park.

^^Watch as these Goshawks play. At the end, one even playfully steps on its companion’s tail! Hilarious!

It turned out I was amidst an entire family of hawks. They played and ate from the same kill. They even chased crow and squirrel in front of me. Two even played with each other on a nearby car rooftop.

Joyful nature communion

For the next two hours I watched as these hawks put themselves on display for me. Once, one hawk perched on a tree, looked at me. Then, with no notice, it flew straight at me, swooping over my head close enough for me to touch. I felt I had gone to hawk heaven!

After filming, I noticed bird and squirrel carcasses in this area, particularly under the tree where one of the hawks fed. Apparently, they had been here some time. But my Broader Perspective coordinated this moment, these two blissful hours, for me to commune with these natural, graceful predators.

^^Carcass from a previous meal.

I tell my clients all the time that when one develops a Positively Focused perspective such that they chronically live in a state of alignment to the beauty of life, nature becomes one’s deliberate partner. It reveals to the Positively Focused its “secrets”. Animals people rarely, if ever, see come out and play, putting themselves on display for one who takes time to tune themselves back to their natural knowing.

I’ve seen coyote families, with pups playing alongside city sloughs, minxes carrying their prey along bike paths, owls flying in broad daylight and at night, perched so close to me I could touch them if I wanted.

Forgotten desires fulfilled

I know when these experiences come, they come solely for my joyful consumption. They also validate my Positively Focused practice as well as indicate that I stand aligned, not only to nature, but to the unfolding, natural fulfillment of all my desires.

I also tell my clients about the nature of “desire” itself. I know many desires I have I don’t remember asking for. But my Broader Perspective remembers them all. When I tune to my Broader Perspective knowing, it begins leading me to all my desires. Not just ones I consciously want, but those I’ve forgotten.

That’s what makes living life so joyous when Positively Focused. I didn’t realize experiencing something like a family of uncommon Birds of Prey up close and personal was something I asked for. Yet here it was delivered in a way I could savor for two whole hours!

Imagine other desires I asked for, cued up by my Broader Perspective and ready when I am to experience. It truly is the Charmed Life I write about. The Charmed Life includes the fulfillment of ALL desires. Not just those a person knows they want, but ones they don’t remember asking for.

My experience today with these hawks filled me with such joy, I am working on a short film about the experience. It’s amazing I got so much video footage, enough for a film I can share. And in the sharing I’ll amplify my own joy, which also amplifies my connection to All That Is.

I write that I am amazed and I am. But I also know what happened is just what happens when I stand at the center of my happy place, where the Universe shows me how blessed I am. How blessed we all are.

[ashen-vulture]

Considering some Creatures

I am a Game Master who happens to be an artist and has paleontology/archaeology as a lifelong obsession. I love drawing monsters for my games, I have a lot of drawings of final bosses and such. And dragons. And there will be dragons in this, too.

During this quarantine mess I decided to mess around with building a new setting that would heavily feature all sorts of megafauna and strange animals that are close to recognizable. To really get a scale for the world, and how small the people in it regularly feel, as well as to show my players some of the more prominent animals, I started working up creature lineups.

And I really liked how they were looking. Every creature is based in something familiar. I’m sure the mammoth is recognizable, though I decided to give mammoths in this setting an exaggerated fatty hump that keep them hardy in times of famine or during migrations when they won’t find as much food.

The small striped Five Horned one is based ever so loosely on Hoplitomeryx. They use their horns for goring attackers and males will wrestle one another by locking horns together and trying to throw each other around until one tires out. The small horns just forward of the eye acts as a guard to keep eyes from getting poked out, and they have a thick neck and sturdy shoulders that aids them in their duels and charges.

The one in the middle wasn’t expressly based on one creature, but rather a combination of giraffes, moose, and extinct camelids, with big padded feet for walking through snow, a long stride allowing them to cover a lot of ground, a huge rubbery nose for warming up air as it enters the body and also acting as an opposable digit, and a long prehensile tongue for grabbing at vegetation.

And I mean from there, it kinda

Just kept going. Here are some birds from the setting. Some folks will probably recognize the base creature for some of these: the Terror Bird (middle, striped), Argentavis (upper left, vulture), and  Pelagornis (right). The small birds aren’t exactly “based” on anything specific, more just filling out the world. Other Big Borb is based on Gastornis and it’s amazing crushing bite, the waterfowl directly next to Example Man (that’s my name for all of my comparison silhouettes) is a giant swan that lives by rivers and sea and spends most of its time walking, wading, or swimming, only really flying to cover large distances to other foraging grounds. It is a very aggressive bird, violence is guaranteed.

The last small one, the only wingless one, is called a Bush Bird. Based partially on revelations about the dodo bird: previously thought to be helpless, stupid ground birds that were fat and slow-moving, it’s likely that this idea came from caged specimens who didn’t have room to roam and were fed lots of cheap food. Though the little red-faced wingless bird might look small and helpless especially in this lineup, its feathers shield it from brambles, their primary nesting space, and they’re light on their feet, able to dash across snow, make quick turns, and recover from tumbles immediately and keep running.

Giant sloth! What megafauna-drenched lineup would this be if I didn’t include a sloth. And for this one I combined traits from several extinct sloth to make a rugged survivalist. They knuckle-walk most everywhere, but they’re also still adept climbers- of cliffs. They will climb the young, steep mountains during certain seasons to eat the seasonal fruit that is dropping that only they, birds, and humans can reach. They will also climb the cliffy coasts, descend down into the ocean to graze on sea plants, pulling their way along with their claws. While not an aquatic mammal it is a strong enough swimmer to get to shore if it loses its grip. Masters of getting where it’s hard to get to eat the things that are hard to eat.

The Apex predators of Sea and Land, known as the Sea Demon and the Huntfather. The Sea Demon is a voracious whale that hunts the known waters, the biggest threat in the sea. They’re not gentle giants, if it is large enough to be worth eating and its made of meat they’re not picky. The Huntfather is the apex predator of the land, it lays in ambush, often hunting in pairs. They utilize stealth and patience to ambush prey, using their bone-crushing jaws to bite for the legs and keep them from running away. I became interested in the idea of a creature that lives in a taiga/plains mix, and how white vertical stripes might help them blend into their environments.

Me: “Hey, what would happen if we took a komodo dragon, Biggified it to like megalania-size, and then gave it big old frill?”

This is called the Beach Tyrant. The species lives along beaches in loosely-associated colonies of other beach tyrants. It has a fluked tail for swimming, a stellar sense of smell, and the same noxious bite monitor lizards are well known for. They use their frills to catch heat from the sun and scare away creatures too big for them to handle (such as mammoths). They spend their time patroling up and down beaches hunting and scavenging.

They got the name Beach Tyrant because they tend to hoard large carcasses. In this setting humans do not have the means to hunt whales, so whale blubber or other parts are rare. Beach Tyrants will not leave a carcass until it is completely clean. They’ll sleep on top of and around it, mark the area, and refuse to relinquish until there is no carcass left.

Okay Who’s Ready For Dragons

So I want to design a RPG setting that will be fun for my players to engage with, and I don’t want it to be a 1:1 representation of our world. And I knew there had to be dragons, and I knew I wanted them to be different from every other dragon I had designed up to this point.

So, where do we get dragons? Well, we have to go back a little bit further than the mammoth for that.

The question I started with was- what if in this world’s version of the mass extinction event, a tiny pterasaur species managed to eek its way past the edge of oblivion and land in the new era? I looked at a combination of some of the largest and smallest pterasaurs. Their wing shape, their walking stance, their proportions, and worked them together with the idea of a showy, and highly social dragon.

So there are a few different “Types“ of dragons the humans of the world recognize: Black, Brown, and Colorful. In reality what they’re seeing are Adolescents, Females, and Males.

Male dragons are twice the height of their female counter parts and will defend nesting mountains in coalitions of 2-5 from invading predators and other males looking to dethrone them. Their crest is both display and a resonance chamber, allowing them to make loud honks, howls, and roars.

Females are smaller and duller in color, with smaller crests that functions similarly to the males. Females make up the bulk of the flock, a healthy dragon roost could have 20-60 of them, and they hunt in packs. They’ll lay down trails of fire to cause herds to split and scatter. They’ll even go into swarms or frenzies where the entire flock will mobilize for a hunt, especially when the youngsters are going out on their very first pack hunt.

The fire they spit is more a gooey vomit of flamable bile followed by an ignition chemical that causes the noxious mucus to catch a persistent fire. They use fire to box in or mark their intended prey, or to drive small prey out of thickets and grass cover where they can be picked off individually.

It is believed in this setting that the sun and the moon are moved across the sky by a giant blue dragon and a giant black dragon. The sun is an enormous pile of gold, and the moon is an enormous pile of silver. Legends tell of people climbing mountains to try to steal gold and silver from the sky, only to become lost wandering forever amongst the silver stars.

That’s it for now, this monstrosity is long enough.

[outshinethestars]

A Nice Walk in Europe Somewhere (Hetalia fic)

“Shit,” Prussia said, as the plane spiralled down toward earth.  At least he had the satisfaction of shooting down his opponent too.

Prussia woke up again on the unforgiving ground surrounded by the burned out ruin of his plane.  It was still a little on fire.  He double checked that his gunner was dead, even though there was no way he could have survived the crash.

Aviation was one of the more “fun” parts of the Great War, but it got tiring, after a while, knowing that every one of your screw-ups resulted in the death of your human crewmate.  Prussia was not used to screwing up, but there was no room in the air for perfection.  Skill was what kept you up there at all, only luck could keep you alive.

Prussia stood to start on the long trek back to camp, when a movement caught his eye from the allied crash.

There was no way that anyone could have survived the crash, and even less chance that whoever it was would make it all the way to the nearest Red Cross.  But, well, miracles did happen.  Prussia did not want to drag some mostly dead enemy stranger all the way back to the nearest Red cross.  But he knew it was the Right Thing to Do.  Prussia walked over to the wreckage of the other plane and found the enemy pilot sitting up.

His heart dropped down to his stomach.

“America?” he said.

“Nope,” said the other man, standing up, and Prussia saw that it wasn’t.

“Oh,” he said, relief filling him, “You’re that colony.  You burnt down the whitehouse.”

The man (Canada was his name) blinked, surprised at being recognized, “Um, yeah,” he said, “That was me.  And you’re Prussia?”

“Got it in one,” Prussia said.

“So what now,” Canada asked, “Do we fight to the death?  I didn’t bring any dueling pistols.”

Prussia laughed, “Nah,” he said, “We already did the fighting to the death part.  Now we just head back towards our respective bases.  Which are both on the other side of the river, so I guess we’ll have to walk together to the ford.”

“Lead the way,” said Canada.

“You know,” Prussia said as they headed off, “That was some pretty fancy flying you were doing up there, kid.”

“Thanks,” Canada said, “You weren’t half bad yourself,”

“Thank you,” Prussia said, “I’m a New Physical Type, apparently.  Although you aren’t,” he added, looking the colony up and down, but mostly up, “What are you?  Half bear?”

“Well,” Canada said, “I was raised by polar bears.”

“What the fuck, seriously?” “Yes, seriously.”

“That’s fucke-- That’s awesome ,” Prussia course corrected, because it was, in fact, badass as hell, but also because given everything, now was not the time to criticize France’s parenting.  But still, Prussia had known France wasn’t exactly winning any father of the year awards but raised by bears, holy shit!

Canada shrugged, “It wasn’t as exciting as it sounds,” he said, “Involved a lot of hibernating.”

“Sounds peaceful,” Prussia said.

“Ah, the good old days,” said Canada.

A bird flew from a nearby tree, and Prussia watched its course approvingly.  Oh, to be a bird, free in the wind.  Or a polar bear, for that matter.  Or any fucking thing that wasn’t a fucking human/nation in the fucking war.

“You know,” Canada said, after they’d walked for a few moments in silence “It wouldn’t have been the end of the world for you if I had been the US.  There’s plenty of his people fighting for the allies already, he could come over if he wanted to.”

“Yeah,” said Prussia, “But he doesn’t want to.  Did he send you his “War Sucks, Fuck You” booklist?”

“He sent you a booklist?”

“Me and your old man, maybe France, too, it was a very universal “Fuck You”.  I guess he figured it wasn’t your fault you’re a colony.”

“Now you mention it, I do remember England ranting about Twain a while back.  How did you like A Connecticut Yanky in King Arthur’s Court?”

“Funny, and completely irreverent, of course,” Prussia said, “Not at all historically accurate, but overall, enjoyable.   And we all would have been better off if we had internalized the “Modern warfare is awful and pointless too” message at the end, but it wasn’t like I could uninvade Belgium.”

“So you don’t think it’s an “insult to the noble history and tradition of knighthood”?”

Prussia snorted, “I was a medieval knight,” he said, “We sucked. I can see why England hated it, though.  He’s very up his own ass.”

“Mmm,” Canada said, which Prussia took to mean, “You’re right, but you shouldn’t be allowed to say it.”

“You’re surprisingly not awful,” Canada said.

“Thanks,” Prussia said, “You’re surprisingly not boring.”

“I take it back,” said Canada, “Why did you come over to my plane anyway?  Plan to loot my corpse?”

“No!” Prussia said.  Canada raised an eyebrow.

“If you really need to know, I saw something moving, and came over to drag your miraculously still kicking carcass to the Red Cross.”

“Huh,” Canada said, “I guess chivalry really isn’t dead, then.”

Prussia rolled his eyes, “You would have done the same,” he said.

“True,” said Canada, “But then, I’m a lot taller than you are.”

Prussia did not dignify that with an answer.

They reached the ford and cursed their way across the river together (Canada, Prussia was interested to note, cursed mostly in French).

“So, I guess we part ways,” Canada said.

“Yep, I’ll see you around, kid,” said Prussia.

“See ya.”

And they walked off in opposite directions.

[hunters-of-the-wastes]

Pigeons, often known as rock doves, are gentle, plump, small-billed birds with a skin saddle (cere) between the bill and forehead, that live commonly within human settlements, eating the remains of food, specially bread and grain, left behind by the city inhabitants. Pigeons are often domesticated by people and as a result Coops can often be found in front of certain homes within a settlement and NPCs can often be seen feeding them and their irradiated variations.

But did you know that in certain parts of New America, hurting a pigeon in certain Settlements is actually considered a crime?

The utility of the pigeon as a messenger bird, was re-discovered by many civilizations dotted across New America, most recently within the Free-States surrounding Boston. This is because with good weather and wind on their side, a healthy strong pigeon, is known for its ability to find its way home over extremely long distances, and can carry a note as much as 800 miles in a day.

Because of their natural homing abilities, the pigeons were transported to a destination in cages, where they would be attached with messages, then the pigeon would naturally fly back to its home where the recipient could read the message. Pigeons are also easy to train to fly from one place to another by associating each place with food, or indeed a home base while they travel, and have never been known to get lost if they have imprinted on a location. As a result most cities have vast rookeries with pigeons linked from their home and some place throughout the known world.

In addition to this, They are often fitted with backpacks or leg braces to deliver messages and armor on their necks and heads to protect them from hawk or other predatory bird attacks. Even with the advent of wireless communication and radio’s, in certain particular applications pigeons provide the only method of communication- the diligence, endurance, and utility of these birds has them held in extremely high esteem in many locations, much like how it was back in the old days when they were considered companions and friend’s and not abandoned to the cities where they would soon be deemed a nuisance or Street Rats and loathed by the populations.

Because of this renewing of old relations, to kill or brutalize one of these birds is strictly considered to be taboo, and even considered a war crime in certain places, as most pigeons will carry notes regarding the surrender or declaration of war, or the death of someone of High Esteem.

However despite their usefulness they are often plagued with stiff competition by other birds when it comes to who is the best messenger, with one such bird being the Crow.

Curious birds with exuberant black plumage, Crows are docile and fearless animals, enjoying much like the pigeon living close to human civilizations, for their own benefit, feeding on leftovers leftover by their inhabitants. These bird’s have coexisted with humanity for thousands of years; being plentiful in some areas in pre-war times, that humans regarded them once as pests. Often animal’s with a preference for the cloudy cold climates, they are often found populating mainly the cities at the north of New America, building their nests, and resting, on roofs and other tall structures. They also populate fog-filled marshes, in search of food, especially any eventual carcass, be it animal or person.

These avian’s have an omnivorous diet, which contributes to their evolutionary success as a species. They can be immensely opportunistic and versatile when looking for sources of food - feeding on insects, carrion, berries, cereal grains, small animals, food waste, and fruit. These bird’s are also incredibly intelligent, which can be seen thanks to some very notable feats of problem-solving. In New America, Crow seem to have survived the nuclear conflict mostly untouched by the twisted and mutating effects of radiation, carrying on with their lives as usual - only presumably with much more carrion to choose from.

In spite of their increased survival against the odds, during the reign of the institute, the crow population around the Boston Commonwealth saw a substantial drop in it’s numbers. This was because of discriminate culling by the residents in the fear that any or all crow’s were “watchers”, synthetic animals made by the institute to spy on the surface world.

As a result, even year’s after the destruction of the institute, Crow’s are still very untrusted animals around certain parts of the Commonwealth, often finding themselves poisoned or shot on numerous occasions. Despite this however, the crow still stands as a subject of much of the art, literature, folklore, and mythology throughout much of the land’s surrounding Boston.

Despite them not being as protected as Carrier Pigeons, with their Intelligence, and loyalty and ability to be domesticated, there has often been debate on whether or not they make better messenger birds then Carrier Pigeons, despite the fact Carrier pigeons are more widely used then Crow’s are, with only a select few area's using Crows as carrier animals.

[mando-lore]

"A bird... or something...": The story of Mothman and other 'flying men'

Certainly Strange: A Podcast About The Unexplainable, episode 7

Listen on: YouTube  Spotify  Castbox

"It was a bird... or something."

It was the 15th of November, 1966, and Roger and Linda Scarberry and Steve and Mary Mallette were joyriding through a maze of dirt roads that connected abandoned world war two bunkers, late at night in Point Pleasant West Virginia. They had just driven past an abandoned generator plant when they saw… something. A huge figure in the darkness, just off the side of the road. And it was watching them. With huge, blood red eyes.

"I'm a hard guy to scare" Scarberry later said to the local newspaper, "but last night I was getting out of there." He slammed the gas and tried to manoeuvre his car out of the dump area as quickly as possible, away from the strange creature that watched them. And as they fled, they all saw the creature, something that looked like the hybrid between a man and a bird, standing on a hill by the side of the road.

And then, it started following them. It hoovered above the car, chasing them. “We were driving one hundred miles per hour and that bird kept right up with us. It wasn’t even flapping its wings.” The women started crying. The creature followed them until the couples reached the National Guard Armory on Route 62. They thought they had finally lost the strange man-bird, but once they turned the car around, there it was again. It seemed to be waiting on them.

The creature was over six foot tall, grey, with a wingspan of 10 feet. "It was like a man with wings," Mallette said. "It wasn't like anything you'd see on TV or in a monster movie..."

The Scarberries and the Mallettes gave a statement to the police. "If I had seen it while by myself I wouldn't have said anything," Scarberry commented, "but there were four of us who saw it."

At first, the four witnesses were the laughingstock of the town. But soon, stories started to surface, old and new. They were definitely not the only ones who had witnessed the creature that is now known as the Mothman.

On that very same day, on November the 15th 1966, the Mothman had been spotted by a farmer about 90 miles away in Salem. Newell Partridge was watching television when at 10:30pm he heard his German shepherd named Bandit howling. The farmer went out to check on his dog with a flashlight, when he was met with two large red eyes, like red reflectors, staring at him.

Bandit took off towards the creature that threatened his master, into the night. Then, the farmer could hear his dog screech and whine. And he never saw him again.

The strange thing? In their eyewitness report, The Scarberries and the Mallettes told the police that, while they were being chased by the Mothman, they had seen something, lying on the side of the road. It had been a carcass. The carcass of a dead dog.

The very next day, the Mothman was spotted by one Mr and Mrs Wamsley and their friend Mrs Bennett, who were driving through the world war two bunker area on their way to visit a friend. They parked the car in a darkened area several feet from the residence, and knocked on their friend’s door. When they found him not at home, they headed back to the car. This is where they saw it. In the darkness, a shadowy figure lurked behind the automobile.

“It rose up slowly from the ground. A big, grey thing. Bigger than a man, with terrible, glowing red eyes.” Said Bennett. According to her own statement, when Bennett saw the creature, she was so horrified she fell on her baby whom she had been holding in her arms.

There were dozens of Mothman sightings during the next several weeks. One witness, Mrs. Roy Grose, saw the creature through her kitchen window, early in the morning when her barking dog had awakened her. She say a large multicoloured object hovering over the treetop in a field across the road. That same day a local teenager encountered a huge birdlike creature with his car, and claimed that it had followed him for more than a mile.

Tom Ury, a young shoe salesman, was driving down route 62 at 7:15 in the morning on his way to work, when he spotted a towering figure standing by the road in an adjacent field. Suddenly it had spread its wings and took off straight up. The figure then started circling his car like a bird, and kept flying over the car even at the speed of seventy-five miles per hour, much like as he had done to the Scarberries and the Mallettes. Tom was apparently so frightened by this encounter, he did not get into work that day.

In total, there were around 200 sightings of the Mothman in the year 1966 to 1967. But it was not the first time something like a bird-man was spotted near Point Pleasant.

In 1961, 5 years prior, a woman was driving down route 2 along the Ohio river with her father when she spotted a winged figure. She had just passed by a park when a tall figure suddenly appeared in the road ahead of her. It was a grey figure with folded wings across its back, like how one would describe an angel. Startled by the car, the creature unfolded its wings, which “practically filled the whole road”, and then the mysterious creature took off.

However, the woman and her father were not the first to ever witness the creature that would become known as “The Mothman”. In 1948, the Army officials at McChord Field in Washington state were approached by the 61-year-old Mrs Bernice Aikowski, who claimed that she had seen a man-bird in her backyard in nearby Chehalis.

“I know most people don’t believe me, but I have talked to some people in Chehalis that tell me they say the man, too. It was about 3 PM on January 6th, and there were a lot of small children coming home from school at the time. They saw the man, too, and asked me if they could go into my backyard so they could watch him longer as he flew towards the south end of the city.”

According to her, the flying man-bird seemed to be a man equipped with long silver wings fastened over his shoulders with a strap, like one of the inventions of Leonardo da Vinci.

On April 9th, 1948, two Longview Washington state residents named Viola Jonson (a laundry worker) and James Pittman (a janitor) told journalists that they had seen several men with flying suits and goggles, flying through the air, circling the city at a hight of 250 feet. Two similar flying men were sighted near Butte in Oregon, on September 16th that same year.

In 1971, at 2AM in Norton Massachusetts, police sergeant Thomas Downy was driving home along Winter Street in Mansfield. As he approached a place known, ironically, as Bird Hill in Easton, he was confronted by a huge winged creature that was over 6 feet tall with a wingspan of eight to twelve feet. As sergeant Downy drew to a stop at the intersection, the birdman flew straight up, disappearing over the dark trees into the swamp. Downy reported the sighting to the Easton police when he arrived home and a patrol car searched the area, but the man bird was never seen again.

These birdmen are not sighted exclusively in the United States, however. Plato and Homer already wrote about a race of winged men in Ancient Greece. On July 11th, 1908, the Russian explorer VK Arsenyev sighted a winged humanbeing near the mouth of the Gobilli river. Sightings have also been reported in Portugal, England, and Vietnam.

The many sightings of the Mothman came to an end on the 25th of December in 1967, when the Silver Bridge, connecting Point Pleasant with Gallipolis collapsed. 46 people died, and it is still known as the deadliest bridge collapse in the history of the United States. Next to the Mothman sightings, the Silver Bridge collapse was the second terrible and bizarre thing to put Point Pleasant on the map in one year’s time. So it was not hard for people to seek a connection between the two.

Some eyewitnesses claimed that they had seen the Mothman at the bridge that day it collapsed, blaming the creature for the disaster that killed so many. Of course, it is a way of mourning to seek an explanation, someone to blame, for this terrible loss of life.

People did indeed think that the Mothman was a bad omen, a demonic vision that foreshadows a great disaster. The Mothman does bear the resemblance of a demon, the embodiment of fear itself.

A more realistic based explanation for the Mothman comes from Dr. Robert L. Smith, an associate professor of wildlife biology at West Virginia University, who said that the description of the Mothman all fitted the sandhill crane, the second largest American crane, which stands almost as high as a man and has a wingspan of more than seven feet. He said the “red eyes” could be the large red circles around the crane’s eyes. The appearance of the bird could have been moulded into the image of a monstrous creature through mass hysteria.

So, is the Mothman an image of the mind, the demonic embodiment of fear? Is it simply a bird, mistaken for a monster through mass hysteria? Or… is the Mothman real? Whatever he was or whatever he may be now, still, he is certainly strange.

SOURCES

All That’s Interesting. (2017, May 17). The True Story Behind The Legendary Mothman Said To Terrorize West Virginia. Retrieved from https://allthatsinteresting.com/mothman

Coleman, L. (2001). Mothman and other curious encounters. Cosimo, Inc. https://books.google.nl/books?hl=en&lr=&id=KZlavRmNPtkC&oi=fnd&pg=PA8&dq=mothman&ots=KSz4GP-jP7&sig=-WwUOFtlxYvPePGyE-MwpPccj4s#v=onepage&q&f=false

Daly, J. (2020). Narrative Hijacking: Mothman and the Silver Bridge Collapse. https://digitalcommons.usu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=2279&context=researchweek

Gettysburg Times. (1966, December 1). Monster Bird With Red Eyes May Be Crane. p. 12. Retrieved from https://news.google.com/newspapers?id=LG0mAAAAIBAJ&sjid=Rf8FAAAAIBAJ&pg=620,2790721&dq=point+pleasant+roger+scarberry&hl=en

Point Pleasant Register. (1966, November 16). Couples See Man-Sized Bird...Creature...Something. Retrieved from https://web.archive.org/web/20071011230219/http://www.westva.net/mothman/1966-11-16.htm

[piotrbaranowski]

Environmental E-Zine Research Activity - part 2

  Reportage photography are photographs made the way to express the event/theme they been shoot at/for. Pictures made for reportage photography must be powerful so we can see/feel emotions passed to us from its creator.

   There is a difference between reportage and documentary photography, both need text accompanied with however in reportage the text is crucial, images show the truth behind the opinion expressed in its text, when documentary photography seems to inform, educate and entertain this is why it concentrating on what is foreign, unusual or weird.

   I think reportage/documentary photography is important to society because can discover the truth, educate us and what can make a change if receivers of info make a verification about knowledge they have just picked up and take it seriously to get things positioned on better/proper way to make better future.

   I think every single photograph made is kind of reportage its self...

   Chris Jordan is an American artist, photographer and film producer that made few projects regarding theme I have choice to complete environmental e-zine project. He uses rubbish and mass consumption to create his photographs to tell what is happening because of peoples use of things we produce not the exact way it should be used or recycled. Here is some of his projects his completed: Intolerable Beauty: Portraits of American Mass Consumption (2003–2006)[3] – A series of large format photographs depicting the magnitude of America's waste and consumption; In Katrina’s Wake: Portraits of Loss from an Unnatural Disaster (2005)[4] – A series of photographs taken in 2005 depicting the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina; Running The Numbers I: An American Self Portrait (2006–2009)[5] – A series of photographic mosaics depicting visualizations of statistics related to America's consumerism, social problems, and addictions; Running the Numbers II: Portraits of global mass culture;  Midway: Message from the Gyre (2009–2013)[6][7] is a series of photographs depicting rotting carcasses of baby Laysan albatrosses filled with plastic.

  Chin Leong Teo is the another photographer I have research and got inspired from... he is  an internationally published, multi-award-winning Singaporean photographer. He has won top prizes and has received more than 900 awards in more than 300 international photography projects.  In November 2014, his work was showcased in the Guardian Newspaper in the UK. He was ranked world top 10 in three PSA divisions in PSA Who's Who 2019 List.  In 2020, he won 1st prize in the Nature category of IPA One Shot: Movement Photo Awards, and was also winner in All About Photo Awards and the 80th International Salon of Japan.

   Baby Laysan albatrosses filled with plastic. These birds nest on Midway Atoll and are being fed plastic by their parents, who find floating plastic in the middle of the ocean and mistake it for food. This is a part of an ongoing arts and media project called Midway Journey, which has its own website. Close look up. Ironically Bird eye view point of view been used to shot this image at day light to show health theme and how it gets affected I think, as we can see what that plastic does to those wee bird’s health... makes them die.

   IPA One-Shot special themed competition “MOVEMENT” looks at this concept through a photographer’s lens—movement in all aspects of life, showing change, development, movement and growth, in physical, political, social or artistic environments. Wallace’s Flying Frog (took 1st place at that competition) is a moss frog found in Malaysia and western Indonesia. It is generally quite photogenic given its large size, brilliant colours and calm temperament. This is a shot taken of a specimen swimming in water, with full extension of its beautiful long legs. Panning camera technique? This picture shows to me that if environment you are living at is clean and free from unwanted human interference it just help make you live your life in good health condition what has an affect on your whole life including well-being etc.

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Dreams Most Fowl || Erin and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: We just don’t know PARTIES: @corpse--diem and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Erin and Kaden are feel a little squirrely at a funeral

Kaden had nothing but dreamless sleep ever since Regan had come home. It was deep and he woke up still tired, but at least it was fucking sleep. Alarm was going off. He slammed it off and quickly got dressed into his running gear. “Yogurt’s on the counter,” he called out to the still tiny Regan as he clipped Abel’s leash into place. “Wait,” she called out from the tissue box, climbing out of her makeshift bed. “I need to show you my latest crumb drawing,” she said. “After my run. Pr--” The word caught in his throat, either voluntarily or otherwise, he wasn’t sure. “After,” he said as he headed out the door, Abel in tow. A few quick stretches and he was off, jogging out of the neighborhood towards Gallows Grove. Try as he might to avoid it, the cemetery was some of the nicer plots of land nearby. It also may have become a bit of a habit given who he was dating. But he wasn’t drawn to death. Not like she was. As he ran, he started hearing a chirping behind him. And squeaking. Must just be the animals in the trees. But oddly it sounded… louder than normal. Whatever. He kept on running, Abel by his side. Totally normal.

Dirt thumped onto the casket hovering above an open grave as Mr. Rodriguez’s widow’s tears filled the brisk morning air. There was nothing abnormal about today. Not for Erin. This was as routine as filling out paperwork in her office. She stood towards the back as the mourning family said goodbye,  her eyes drifting to the sea of headstones surrounding them. The air felt eerily still when she locked onto ‘Nichols’. That wasn’t right. Her family’s plot wasn’t even in this cemetery. Hair on the back of her neck stood upright, like warning. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as she watched grassy dirt shift and move in front of her father’s plot, struggling to climb it’s way out. The empty plot where her father would have been if the witches hadn’t helped her send his decaying carcass into another world. A shrill yet thundering squawk overhead tore her eyes from the sight. A shadow stretched out, darkening every corner of the cemetery and then some. It was the gust of wind that knocked her and the panicked mourners on her ass that got her to look up. Through their screams of terror, one of them voiced the question her mind was screaming but her lips were too shocked to form. “Is that… is that a bird?”

Abel was running steady beside Kaden when they came across a funeral. Merde, he usually didn’t run into funerals this early in the morning. Shit. Jogging past them felt so disrespectful. Shit. Turning around felt worse. Maybe they wouldn’t see him. Only the people dressed all in black were waving at him. Okay, then. Kaden tentatively waved back. White Crest was fucking weird. Before he could consider why the fuck they were still waving and looking past him, Abel was tugging at the leash and twisting behind him to bark. “Come on. There’s nothing th--” Kaden twisted to look back and saw it. The source of the chirps. “Bordel de putain,” he muttered to himself right as he tripped on the pavement ahead of him and went toppling to the ground. Fuck, that hurt. Right. The people weren’t waving at him, they were pointing at the giant fucking bird behind him. His eyes were fixated on the creature as its beady eyes darted and flitted around, looking for something. But what? Shit. Didn’t matter much. Kaden scrambled to get up and tried to pull Abel back, jerking the leash towards him. Only there was nothing on the other end. Just a dust drawing of his nose where he should be. “What the fuck?” he mumbled. A bellowing squawk came from the bird and he started to turn to run away when he ran into something. Again. The fuck, he wasn’t normally this clumsy. “Erin?” he asked as he realized who he’d just accidentally shoulder checked while trying to get away.

At some point, Erin had started running. She didn’t remember scrambling to her feet or ditching the fleeing family at the gravesite. But here she was, booking it through the grass, only vaguely aware that she suddenly also wasn’t wearing shoes anymore. Not relevant. Not when the gush of wind from another flap threatened to send her flying again. It wasn’t the bird that nearly bowled her over this time. “Jesus--” she groaned, narrowing her eyes as she just barely caught herself. “Kaden?” Of all the people she could have run into, this was the last person on earth she expected and her face mirrored that surprise. “Christ, were you a linebacker in another life?” She grimaced, holding and shrugging her aching shoulder. Outside of the giant fucking bird, this didn’t feel right. If she had more than a few moments to focus, maybe she would’ve noticed how time was playing fast and loose with her perception, or how the landscape and the expression in faces of the mourners kept subtly changing around them. What she did notice was the way the ground was shaking. Suddenly the cemetery was filled with people, standing in awe, watching something just beyond the trees. She couldn’t see it though. “What the actual fuck is going on?” She asked, trying to catch a glimpse at whatever horror these people were screaming about.

“Sorry,” Kaden muttered. What the hell was Erin doing here? And was she shoeless? Kaden figured that didn’t matter. What mattered was getting the hell away from that big ass bird. “Hunter strength but we don’t have time to--” The rumble of a chipr rang out along with ripples of giant talons scratching along the ground in the distance. He wasn’t sure what Erin was doing here, but he grabbed her arm and started to direct her to follow him, they had to run from the bir-- His hand dropped and he stopped in his tracks as the ground became even more unsteady. It rattled and shook and the trees across from the beant and broke until big, fuzzy grey paws broke through. Then a nose, twitching to reveal huge, square, sharp teeth. The beady eyes were looking right down at them, the small ears swiveled in their direction. The squeak and squeal roared out at them. “Putain,” Kaden said, gaze pinned on the squirrel as it came straight towards them. He turned. Yup, bird still behind them. There were sounds of applause and cheering that started nearby and Kaden looked to see the mourners clapping as they watched the scene in front of them. “What the fuck?” He knew White Crest was weird but this was next level.

Did Kaden just say hunter? Erin didn’t push it. For some reason Kaden was here, and so was a bird the size of Mothra. All that mattered right now was not getting plucked up and swallowed whole for dinner. Time crawled as the oversized squirrel revealed itself, trampling through the trees, snapping them like twigs beneath monstrous paws. This was it, huh? Of all the fucked up nonsense this town had thrown at her, giant woodland creatures were going to do them in with an ecstatic audience cheering on their impending doom. Wait. Erin stilled. A bird and a squirrel? There was something familiar about that combination eating at the edge of her consciousness. The squirrel’s chittering and squeaking pierced her ears and the word run was screaming louder than anything in her brain. The crowd of mourners were suddenly startling quiet, still as corpses themselves, the corners of their lips forced upward in unnatural, wide grins. “Oh, fuck this,” Erin murmured as she started elbowing her way through the crowd, casting a look back to see if Kaden was following her when the casket caught her eye. It was open. It shouldn’t have been open. It shouldn’t have been empty. When she turned, she realized she was running straight towards Mr. Rodriguez. Eyes still sealed shut, his skin was dripping as if he’d been in there for months instead of hours. Like her father had. Like a zombie. He smiled and waved and she veered hard into the woods away from him.

Kaden took off at a run at the same time that Erin did. There was a casket. Sure, that made sense, this was a funeral, even if it was a weird one. What didn’t make sense was the man climbing the fuck out of it. “Putain,” he said as he jumped away from the body as it waved at them. Fucking hell. Kaden swerved to follow Erin, running after her towards the forest. He weaved in and out around trees, dodging braces, the cawing and chittering bellowing behind them still. As he ran, the trees started to thin out, the path ahead got clearer. That didn’t make sense, he was sure they had run north, deeper into the woods. But all the same, the way opened up and the ground beneath him became more even until it wasn’t dirt anymore but hardwood floors. The trees that had been reaching out were gone and he was surrounded by the four walls of his apartment. His run slowed to a jog and then a walk. When Kaden turned to look behind him, the door was even there, as if he hadn’t just come there from the woods. What the fuck?

“Kaden, over here! You can see my drawing now,” a small voice called out. Regan? His brow furrowed but he walked towards the counter. “It’s missing something,” she said, furrowing her brow and tilting her tiny head, arms crossed in front or her as he approached. When he looked down, he saw a surprisingly detailed crumb rendering of a marble gravestone. The grass and flowers, all perfectly pictured with tiny remnants of crackers and bread. “Ah, that’s right,” Regan said as she went back to work rearranging more crumbs. “This is perfect.” When she backed away, the headstone had a name above the epitaph. Kaden Langley. Gone but never forgotten. Beloved by family and friends. “That-- That’s just like what we saw at the carnival. Why would you draw that?” Kaden asked, eyes wide and slowly backing away from the counter. “It’s what I do,” she said simply. Kaden backed away more and stumbled and tripped over a root, falling down onto what was once more the dirt ground. When he looked back, a squawk rang out. He screamed. The bird’s colossal beak was right above him, ready to swoop down and pick him up.

At some point in her scramble in the opposite direction of that nightmarish scene, Erin realized she’d lost Kaden. Maybe he should have been worried or turned back to check but she couldn’t stop running, even as the rocks and branches scratched up her feet. Why had he even been here? Fuck. She should go back. When she finally had the nerve to glance back, all she could see was trees, inexplicably denser and darker than when she’d run through them. No Kaden, no corpses, no fucking woodland creatures though. This was fine. This was fine--she slammed into something hard but soft, sending her bouncing backwards. Looked up to see a giant, grey paw as big as her sunk into the dirt. Where the fuck had this thing come from? Hadn’t it behind her? She frantically scurried backwards as it sat up on its hindlegs, sniffing the air, beady, black eyes locked on Erin.

Her back hit a tree and she glanced around, trying to find somewhere to run. The forest had cleared out in front of her but the woods behind her had seemingly multiplied in just a few seconds, jutting up from the ground like prison bars. She couldn’t run through it if she tried. She was trapped. This was it. This was actually the end. The squirrel was leaning down again, the looming shadow swallowing any sunlight from above. All she saw was giant, snickering teeth and mischievous paws reaching towards for her. All Erin could do was close her eyes and pray it’d at least chomp her down in one go. Tried to think of anything else to soften the incoming blow. Nic’s shy smile, pancake breakfasts with her family, Betty curled up in her lap--

A deafening POP filled the forest. Suddenly she was drenched and getting lobbed with gooey chunks of… something. It was raining. She felt that too. The squirrel was gone when she opened her eyes but a horror scene had been left in its place. Looked down at her hands, her arms. Red. Everywhere. Did it--did it explode? At least it was fucking dead and she wasn’t. She could breathe. She looked up again, the man from the casket suddenly inches from her face. Grinning, teeth sharp and menacing, eyes bright blue and hollow all at once.

Kaden tried to scramble away, but the bird had grabbed his leg and picked him up so he was flying in the air upside down, away from his apartment, tiny Regan waving as everything grew smaller and smaller. The world below became nothing but a sea of tree tops, until he caught sight of the cemetery again. And the fucking squirrel. The bird swooped down to give him a better look. No, there was no swooping, just falling. Lots of falling. Kaden screamed as the sight came closer and closer, faster and faster. Even then, he couldn’t miss the squirrel exploding, viscera flying everywhere. At the same time, so did the funeral attendees, their heads beant back and their chests exploded, heart and lungs bursting out of their chests before they collapsed in place. Kaden tried to scream again, sure that he was getting close to the ground below when he felt the world spin and jerk around. He heard rattling and cheering and screaming nearby. Was he-- He was on the roller coaster. “No hands, Langley,” Wu said, turning to him and prying his fingers off of the restraint. Every inch of him knew it was a bad idea, he tried to hold on, but he couldn’t, she wouldn’t let him. “Come on, it’s fun.” It was the last thing he heard as the car took another loop and he toppled out of his seat, falling into a black abyss below.

Kaden jerked out of bed, sitting up, sweat beading on his forehead, trying to catch his breath. Bed. Blankets. Wing. Wing? He looked next to him and saw Regan fast asleep and her wings were sprawled out, one was resting on top of him. Dream. That’s all it was. He rubbed his face while the dog peeked his head up to see if it was time to go out. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered to Abel. And that was exactly what he planned to do himself. Hopefully dreamlessly this time.

Erin was still screaming when she launched herself out of bed, tangled in bedsheets. Her knees hit the floor and the deafening silence of the dark room had her reeling. It’d been a dream--a fucked up, hyperrealistic one, but a dream nonetheless. She was fine. She was sweating, struggling to catch her breath, heart lumped in her throat--but she was fine. “The hell--you alright?” A tired but worried voice broke her thoughts. Of course she’d woken Nic, suddenly awake and alert. Right. That kind of thing happened when you woke up screaming next to a hunter. Hunter. Kaden. That’d been weird too. “Sorry, sorry--I’m fine, it was just a dream,” she waved it off, a little embarrassed as she pulled herself to her feet. “Fuck, ow,” she hissed and slumped down onto the bed. Froze again when she pulled her leg up, spotting the small cuts littering the bottoms of both of her feet. She remembered she’d been running. But it was… just a dream?

[i-love-charles]

[the final chapter of my alternative endings series, the chapters for Arthur is here and Javier is here, sorry it took so long @cupcakecontour I hope you enjoy].

Deers For Sport

Notes: Fluff, Comfort, Panic Attack, Slight Trauma, Charles Smith + Female Reader, Mini-Fic, Prompt, Request

Wordcount: 1,578

His eyes followed your every move as you worked. Each bounce of your feathery hair, the rhythm of your delicate fingers, the swaying of your rounded hips with each step you took towards him. His heart pounded a panicked beat from beneath his prickled skin as you approached, bowl of hot stew perched across your palm, a freshly brewed coffee mug in the other.

He smiled sincerely as you placed the bowl on his lap, returning the genuine smile before sauntering off to serve the others as they completed their mundane chores - always thinking about others: a trait that he had always admired deeply about you, among a catalogue of many others.

Throughout all of this, he simply couldn’t remove his gaze from you as you chopped away at more vegetables; the sharp knife inching uncomfortably close to your delicate skin with each slam down against the wood of the chopping board. The anxiety was unbearable, and he silently prayed your beautiful frail fingers would remain intact before he m entally scolded himself for being so protective over a grown woman, but also for the feelings he had tried, and failed, to suppress.

After all, for the past few months, being so protective towards you became his nature - part of his makeup - and two other men at camp gave him good reason for it. With that thought his eyes sharpened into cautious slits, like the eyes of a sly snake about to catch its scurrying prey, and he drifted his gaze to the men in question. Each had their eyes planted on you, and he followed their line of sight to the curves of your body as his blood began to boil. Unlike him, other men rarely saw you for anything other than your looks. Your empathetic generosity, strong-will, many talents, beauty and charm - he took note of all of them, favouring each moment he caught a glimpse.

His mind wandered briefly as the stew on his lap cooled below him. He secretly liked to pretend you didn’t share a tent because you were close friends, or because you often hunted together and got back to camp late - you shared it because you were meant to be together in one way or another. The possibility that it could lead somewhere so beautiful gave him hope; if only briefly. Whether you even felt the same way back was still unknown. What if he confesses and it pushes you away? Into the arms of one of the others? Was it worth the risk of your friendship? Maybe you’d feel betrayed, like this whole time his aim was to get you in bed with him? No, it wasn’t worth it.

“Friend. Not lover.” He reminded himself under his breath with a solemn sigh, inaudible to those around him. The mantra brought a silent sorrow to his mind as he lifted the spoon to his mouth, pushing the bitter broth to the back of his throat to avoid its taste. Afterwards, he threw the bowl to the side of the fire, along with the other dirtied dishes, before making his way back to your shared tent - praying you’d return soon too.

Charles

The field is surrounded by towering pine trees that stand proudly against the slight breeze that blows past. Every few moments, a hare pops their ears up from the foliage, prowling any potential predators, before ducking back down only to pounce off from the plains. Small chirps resonating from the blue skies above before flying off ahead to the high hills, each bird uniquely decked with an array of bright feathers in all colours of the rainbow.

Despite all of the gifts Mother Nature has to offer him, Charles can only focus on you. Admiring the weather, horticulture and agriculture can wait - admiring the beautiful woman before him cannot. Each movement you make stuns him, things that he wouldn’t pay even the slightest amount of attention to a few months ago now make his heart jolt like a doe from a predator.

As if sensing his prolonged stare, you look back at him. Only when you do, his head quickly looks ahead, the sudden swaying of his long hair against his shoulders giving him away. “There’s your target.” He whispers nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t been admiring your silhouette without your knowledge. You take the opportunity to gaze appreciatively along the spine of the hawk feather curled around the black flowing strands of his hair as they follow the winds direction. If only your vocabulary was colourful enough to describe his picturesque perfection. The sharp curves of his jaw were shaded over slightly by the blunt blades of his growing facial hair despite you carefully shaving his face only the night before.

Your attention darts back to the deer ahead as it grazes peacefully on the green grass blades, thin dainty legs propping it up centre of the field in your line of sight. A sliver of doubt etches your thoughts. “What if I miss?” You whisper. Charles comforts you with a calm grin - your best friends encouragement was never exactly vocal, so you sighed and swallowed any worries before aligning your eyes upon the target and signalling a slight whistle with your mouth to catch its attention. A split second passes where you read to the leather quiver situated on your back, bringing out a handcrafted arrow and placing it upon the bows strings. One of your eyes squints slightly to focus your line of vision more accurately upon the sudden exposure of the deers skull. Your finger releases upon the bows string and the arrow flys forward at lightening pace towards your target, meeting the tough skin of its neck instead of its head. The poor animal falls to the floor in agony, screaming.

You look at Charles beside you, disappointed with the outcome of your archery skills. “Its only your first attempt, ____. A great one too. You actually shot it.” He explains, pushing himself up to his feet from his squatting position behind the large rock before you both. You take his hand willingly as he offers it out to help you up, his large rough fingers intertwining with your own.

Charles takes the lead on approaching the animal and he gestures at the bow resting in your hand, signalling for you to end the animals suffering. The strange cries from the animal ring in your ears and you silently beg for it to stop, knowing full well the only way to end its misery is to close the gap between your arrows and the deers head.

Only, when you lift the bow up to take your shot, you can’t bring yourself to do it. Your mind travels back to your early childhood, around 6 or 7, when you were pressured by the other children to smash a large rock atop a dying rabbit. The cries were all too similar to the ones that invaded your thoughts right now and the blood in your body grows cold at the memory. Many nights you’d awoken in a similar cold sweat, the cries of pain still ringing in your ears long after you’d awoken.

Cold sweat and panicked thuds against your rib cage invade your senses and your drop the bow from the overload. The screeches sting at your bubbling blood and sweat begins to form against your skin with anxiety. “____? What’s wrong?” Charles questions, his eyes lifting from the crying deer and widening in a deep concern at your state. You try to reply, but your breaths become hitched and uneven with panic, as if you’re unable to breath. Instead you settle for a shake of your head towards the deer, notifying Charles that you’re unable to kill the poor creature.

Your vision by now is clouding over by your lack of breath, and flashes of both the deer before you and the rabbit from your past trespass your mind. Silence takes over the empty field as Charles aims an arrow at the deer, meeting it between the eyes and finally killing your prey. Almost right away Charles let’s go off the bow and it drops to the ground with a muted thud, his arms are clutching at your shoulders, bringing you towards his large barrelled chest to comfort you as he manoeuvres your body to face away from the fresh carcass. You grip at the fabric of his shirt for comfort as your mind tries to regain control.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Charles cooed, hushing you patiently as your breath slowly regains itself. “Calm.” His tone is soothing yet secure, and you feel safe pressed against him at such as vulnerable moment. His fingers rub in small circles at your back, soothing you whilst you try to manage your breathing - and it works. Your constricted chest releases it’s tight hold of your crushed ribs and you take deep breaths, filling your lungs with cool fresh air.

Charles pulls back slightly, one hand moving up to lift your chin upwards, your worried eyes now meeting his. “What’s the matter?” He questions soothingly, his eyes searching yours for answers as his hand gently pulls a loose strand of escaped hair back between the nook of your ear. You return the favour by doing the same, tucking a jet black lock back in place. He hums appreciatively at the gesture.

“Just a stupid childhood memory.” You manage a weak smile, attempting to brush of the situation. “I’m okay now.” He nods delicately at your calm response, wiping away the drying tears from your cheeks with the rough pad of his finger.

You become hyperaware suddenly of his arms wrapped around you so close, and the proximity of your faces, only inches apart. Your eyes drift downwards pleadingly to his cushioned parted lips. Charles own eyes locked with yours as they admired his features. His heart told him to jump head first and kiss you with all the passion he’d had stored, but his head told him to stay patient, wait for an obvious signal as to not push you away.

Maybe it was the vulnerability of your raw emotional state, or maybe it was an inevitable reaction from both parties, but you slowly tilted your lips to meet - and when they did, it was magical. He tasted like coffee and firewood, warm and welcoming. Not even a thousand medalled soldiers could hold you back from pressing yourself desperately against his chest, clinging to the fabric of his shirt like a saving grace. His own thick finger did the same, flirting with the embroidered buttons upon your blouse to expose your chest. A moan escapes your lips at the relief of lust, from none other than the man you’d dreamt about secretly for months past. His own thoughts followed the same trail, grateful he didn’t have to make the first move. He could never forgive himself if he made you uncomfortable, or ruined your friendship. So maybe taking things so far so soon wasn’t the best idea?

The worrying thought flashed through his mind momentarily before he hastily reminded himself that you’d kissed back. No - you still are kissing back.

“_____.” He mumbled against your lips, tugging himself slightly away from the heated kiss. His eyes are dark and thoughtful, but thankfully calm and composed. “P-Pearson. The deer. Camp.” He managed through his baited breaths as his eyes fought to tear themselves away from the newly exposed cleavage within his view.

You hurriedly nod, adjusting your crumpled shirt and tucking back any escaped hair from your braids. His eyes follow the quick movements of your fingers as they button back up your blouse to conceal your dignity and it takes all of his strength pursed together to not rip the blouse back open. Instead he turns around and bends down to the carcass, lifting its weight to rest against his shoulder as he walks back to a calmly hitched Taima, whom grazed delicately upon the blades of fresh emerald brush at her feet.

Your own attention caught on the tensed muscles of his thick arms as they pulled the worn leather restraints of the saddle to firmly clutch tonight’s dinner in place. He turns and offers a large hand to assist you on mounting the horse and you oblige my sliding your own soft palm to meet his. Only, instead of climbing upon the steel supporting stirrups, you take a step towards the broody man and plant a chaste kiss against his swollen lips. His cheeks burn more than before because something about that kiss promised there’d be many, many more to come.

Javier [here]

Arthur [here]