forest-wyvern

[forest-wyvern]

If it costs my peace, it has to go

[forest-wyvern]

cheezbot followed me on my awesome side account the highest honor!!

[forest-wyvern]

----- the neighbor's garden

---------- content warnings: hallucinations, mentions of animal dismemberment + weapons, a creepy old man

art: "hallucination" by crystal naranjo

---------- words: 1011

written by © forest-wyvern .

Sarah had always found a strange comfort in the predictable rhythm of suburban life. The lawnmowers on Saturday mornings, the distant laughter of children, the quiet hum of air conditioners in the summer heat. Her little house, nestled between Mrs. Henderson’s prize-winning roses and the perpetually shadowed yard of Mr. Abernathy, felt like a safe harbor.

Mr. Abernathy. He was a ghost in their little ecosystem. A hunched figure who tended his garden with a silent, almost mournful dedication. Sarah had exchanged maybe a dozen polite words with him in the two years she’d lived there. He always seemed… heavy. Like the weight of the world rested on his stooped shoulders.

Then the garden started to change.

It began with the patterns. The neat rows of vegetables twisted into unsettling spirals. The flowerbeds rearranged into sharp, geometric shapes that felt instinctively wrong, like a child’s drawing of something ancient and forbidden. Sarah would catch glimpses of him out there, his movements slow and deliberate, his head bowed. She chalked it up to a new, perhaps therapeutic, hobby.

Then came the whispers. On still evenings, as she sat on her porch with a glass of iced tea, she’d hear them. Faint, sibilant sounds carried on the breeze from his yard. Sometimes it sounded like a choked sob, other times a jumble of meaningless syllables. She’d strain her ears, convinced it was just the wind rustling the leaves, but a prickle of unease would crawl up her spine.

The sculptures were the point of no return. They emerged slowly, like grotesque blossoms. At first, they were just tangled masses of dead branches and withered sunflowers. But then Sarah started noticing things woven into them. A faded blue scarf that looked eerily familiar. A single, tarnished button that could have fallen off any coat, yet…

One afternoon, she saw it clearly. A small, woven cage made of thorny stems, hanging precariously from a low branch. Inside, impaled on a sharp twig, was a child’s brightly colored plastic dinosaur. A dinosaur exactly like the one her nephew had lost during his last visit.

Fear, cold and sharp, began to bloom in Sarah’s chest.

She started watching Mr. Abernathy more intently. She’d peek through her blinds, her heart hammering against her ribs. He was out there at all hours, his silhouette a gaunt, unsettling presence in the twilight. He’d talk to the plants, his voice a low, guttural murmur. His face, when she could see it, was a mask of shifting emotions – profound sadness one moment, a flicker of manic energy the next, and sometimes, a blank, vacant stare that chilled her to the bone. His eyes were always too wide, unfocused.

Then came the gift.

It was on her doorstep one morning, nestled amongst the fallen leaves. A small, intricately woven orb of twigs, bound together with what looked sickeningly like strands of pale fur. Her cat, Clementine, was asleep on the sofa, her ginger coat reassuringly intact. But the texture of the fur on the orb… it sent a wave of nausea through Sarah. Inside the woven sphere was a single, dead robin, its tiny body stiff and cold.

Sleep became a luxury Sarah could barely afford. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of leaves outside her window, sounded like Mr. Abernathy’s shuffling footsteps. She saw him digging in his garden late one night, a small shovel glinting in the moonlight. He was humming a tuneless melody, and the sight of his hunched figure, illuminated by the pale light, filled her with a primal dread.

Driven by a morbid curiosity and a growing sense of violation, Sarah found herself drawn to the edge of his property. She noticed a patch of freshly turned earth near the back fence, partially obscured by overgrown rose bushes. One afternoon, when Mr. Abernathy was inexplicably absent, she couldn’t resist.

Her hands trembled as she pushed aside the thorny branches. The soil was loose. She knelt down, her fingers digging through the cool earth. What she unearthed was small and wrapped in a piece of faded floral fabric. Her breath hitched in her throat.

With agonizing slowness, she unwrapped it.

Inside was not a dismembered animal, not a weapon. It was a collection of seemingly random, deeply personal items. A faded photograph of Sarah, laughing, taken months ago at a neighborhood barbecue. A crudely drawn picture of a cat that looked remarkably like Clementine, signed with a child’s shaky hand – a drawing Sarah had long forgotten giving to a previous neighbor’s daughter. A worn paperback copy of her favorite childhood book, a book she hadn’t seen in years.

Each item was clean, almost reverently placed within the fabric.

The sheer incomprehensibility of it was far more terrifying than any blood or gore. What was the meaning of these objects? Why her? Was he reliving some distorted version of the past? Was his broken mind trying to forge a connection, a twisted form of intimacy, fueled by the hallucinogenic chaos in his brain?

Sarah backed away from the disturbed earth, her mind reeling. The "monster" next door wasn't a monster in the traditional sense. He was just a man consumed by his own internal darkness, his perception warped by chemicals, his despair manifesting in a way that was deeply, profoundly wrong. And in that wrongness, in the unsettling collection of her memories unearthed from his garden, lay a horror far more insidious and psychologically destructive than any fanged beast.

She didn't call the police. What could she even say? Her neighbor was collecting her discarded memories? The thought felt insane. Instead, Sarah retreated into her house, locking all the doors and windows, the image of Mr. Abernathy’s vacant eyes and his strange, silent garden forever etched into her mind. The predictable rhythm of suburban life had been shattered, replaced by a chilling dissonance that echoed the silent screams of the man next door. And she knew, with a sickening certainty, that she would never look at her neighbors, or her own forgotten trinkets, the same way again.

© forest-wyvern .

[forest-wyvern]

world schizophrenia day is in 10 days!

hi! rhykar here :)

world schizophrenia day is on may 24th!

i myself don't have schizophrenia, but one of my best friends has severe unmedicated schizophrenia. i've seen how badly schizophrenia disorders can ruin someone's entire life, and it's horrible. i've also seen some terrifying schizophrenic hallucination simulations, and i cannot express loudly enough how much i feel for any of you who have schizoid disorders or schizophrenia, even knowing i don't suffer from it.

(note that i do experience my own hallucinatory horrors due to a rarely severe combination case of major depressive disorder and manic bipolar disorder, but my hallucinations don't get nearly as bad as some of the things i've heard about from schizophrenic folks.)

i just wanna help make world schizophrenia day more known on tumblr. i've seen how quickly lives can be ruined and stunted by schizophrenia, and my heart truly aches for you guys. i want to say that my page and all my side blogs are always safe for schizophrenic folks, and people that have hallucinations in general. everyone who posts on this account is educated on schizophrenia, and we'd love to learn more if ever someone wants to talk!

that's all! apologies for the lack of an ending on this post, i'm not good at that if it's not fictional writing lol...

note: this post can also be seen pretty much verbatim on our main blog, @lightning-wyvern .

[forest-wyvern]

"no stop it i don't want this"

"oh really? then why does your body say otherwise"

rape culture!!! rape culture!!!

"My BoDy SaYs OtHeRwIsE" because normally the human body doesn't have a negative response logged to react with when shown sexual stimulation. if my mouth doesn't say the word "yes" and you try to make me anyways or you try to say that fucking shit, you're a rapist and you're about to lose a few fucking teeth. normal people don't even put that line in fanfiction.

i'm not sorry.

[forest-wyvern]

"𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪…" 𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨

have fun with these :))) | tag me if you use any <333 | send a request if you want more

Getting overly jealous over small interactions.

"So what? You're dating them now?"

Overthinking and overanalyzing every single one of their crushes' actions/words, trying to figure out the intent behind them.

"Do they like me back, or not?"

"I can never figure out what you want from me..."

Constantly trying to confess, but biting their tongue before words come out, just to wonder later what would have happened if they had just said what they meant.

Getting upset over cancelled plans and unanswered texts.

Glances that linger on longer than intended.

Recalling small touches, like brushed hands or a small nudge, and immediately yearning for that warmth again.

"Why don't you get it?"

"Is it not obvious? Am I doing something wrong?"

Feeling mad or annoyed with their crush for not realizing their feelings go deeper than just friendship.

Replaying old memories in their head and wishing to make more.

Feeling unwanted whenever they see their crush giving their time, attention, and affection to someone else.

Trying to subtly touch their crush to hint at their feelings.

The "playful" flirting that they mean with every bit of their heart.

Overcompensating by giving compliments and being extra nice, but feeling frustrated all the same when their crush doesn't seem to notice their efforts.

The constant daydreams about how life would be if they were together.

Avoiding any other romantic pursuit because they're stuck on that one person.

Staring at their crush whenever they laugh or smile and thinking: "I wish I can make this moment last forever."

this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year, and i finally found the motivation to finish lmaooo

[forest-wyvern]

List of “cruel ways to push someone away (whether you mean it or not; whether it’s an act or not)” prompts

“Don’t you get it? You were always just entertainment for me.”

“How could you be so foolish to think I ever loved you? Like, really?”

“There’s nothing about you I’ve ever found interesting.” 

“Oh, so you actually thought I cared about you?”

“Trust me when I say this but you are not important to me.” 

“Realistically, what is there to love about you anyway?”

“So uh, what made you think I cared in the slightest?”

“Actions don’t always speak the truth, maybe you should understand that if you don’t want to get hurt next time.”

“Maybe… You shouldn’t have put your trust in someone else so much.” 

“I warned you in the beginning that I wasn’t looking for anything serious, yet you didn’t listen. That’s not on me.”

“It’s not my fault you’re delusional.”

“I don’t… I’ve lost feelings for you.” 

“Trust me, there are more important things in my life to worry about. You’re definitely not one of them.”

“I must have given you the wrong impression.”

“You make me want to give up on everything.” 

Join my Discord server: Steaming Dumplings Nation

[forest-wyvern]

friendly but unfortunately repeated psa

i (as in all admins collectively) would like it if minors do not interact with my blog/posts unless we're mutuals already please :D that will be a rare event itself because my momma didn't raise no peadoughfile, but yeah. this goes for all blogs I own that are tagged on my pinned ; @lightning-wyvern , @forest-wyvern , @uraharafiles , @poison-wyvern and @raptor-makes-moodboards .

pls note that it isn't just because of the pretty fair amount of smutty/violent/generally adult content we post and reblog--- it's also because we aren't comfortable having minors interacting with heavily adult-oriented content, including our account itself.

any and all minors who see this post~ please unfollow my account, and try to discontinue interactions with my blogs!

[forest-wyvern]

--- tiaki's fall

---------- content warnings: n/a

found image on pinterest

---------- words:

writer note: i wrote this a lawnnnng time ago for a creative writing class in high school. i believe it was written during a unit on writing with the hero's journey, but I was never able to finish it.

written by © forest-wyvern .

There once was a boy. A young boy, a century naught. This boy's name was Rome, and he was a demigod- but he was utterly heedless of this information, he did not know he was of a god's genesis.

Rome was not a normal boy- of course he wasn't, he was half god. But he also wasn't a very big fan of women, particularly romantic women.

Which, from his experience, was all women.

Rome was actually quite partial to men. There was just something different about men, Rome loved them. He loved to be around them, and he actually had a partner of his own.

Rome's partner was a young boy, almost a year older than him, named Oliver. Rome was- well, Roman, and no one except Oliver knew where Oliver was born. The boy didn't have parents, so he'd been living with Rome for a score of years.

One dark, cloudy morning, Rome was jarred awake by the sound of his mother screaming his name. She sounded frantic… a hint of motherly worry tinted her voice red.

“Rome! Rome, wake up! Oliver is missing!”

“WHAT??” Rome shouted, sitting bolt upright in bed and looking over next to him to where his lover was supposed to be. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping with every bit of his soul that his mother was having hallucinations from the bread, or that his heart didn’t skip a beat when he laid eyes upon Oliver’s empty spot in bed.

“How– where– did he leave a note??”

“No,” his mother said frantically, turning on her heels and skidding out his bedroom door into the wall in her trepidation. She ran down the hall screaming her father’s name, and she yelled something that made Rome’s heart sink figuratively into his nethers as she went.

“He just– disappeared!”

And then the back of Rome’s right hand started throbbing. It was a violent throbbing, one that he knew of, for his mother had felt it once before. The journey that had followed after she’d discovered what it was… she told a story that this was how she had met his father.

“Oliver??” Rome yelled, shoving his feet into his shoes and grabbing his bag as he ran out the front door of his home. His mother yelled after him in confusion–

“Rome, not you too–!” To which Rome’s only response was, “I know where Oliver has gone!”

“Be careful!” his mother and grandfather yelled in unison after him.

“I will!”

© forest-wyvern .

[forest-wyvern]

informal writing help post #3: 10 existential comments to quote your characters on

disclaimer: you don't have to use these or the first 10 for writing, you can use them in real life just as well :D

previous entry

*observing a particularly enthusiastic display of local pride* "it's heartwarming how deeply some people connect with... things. i, however, find my personal bubble equally comforting."

*someone offers unsolicited advice* "how... efficient. you've managed to condense your entire life's wisdom into a single, spatially invasive statement of otherworldly incautious proportions."

*witnessing a minor inconvenience* "the universe, it seems, is conspiring to place obstacles precisely within my preferred radius of solitude."

*someone asks a relentlessly cheerful question* "my level of enthusiasm generally correlates inversely with the proximity of the questioner."

*upon being interrupted* "forgive me, were you under the impression that my personal monologue was a duet?" *subtly shifts away*

*observing a group of overly friendly tourists* "it's like watching a nature documentary about a highly social, yet spatially unaware, species."

*someone tries to make small talk while standing marginally too close* "the weather. a topic best contemplated from a safe and respectful distance."

*reacting to a monumental cliché* "how... original. almost as original as the feeling of someone breathing down your neck."

*someone expresses a strong opinion* "fascinating. you project your convictions with the same force you project your physical presence."

*to themself, but loud enough to be heard by passerby and spatial invaders* "note to self: invest in a personal force field. preferably one with a subtle 'keep away' notification."

(bonus) *looking pointedly at the diminishing space between your character and someone else, perhaps with a slight, almost imperceptible narrowing of your character's eyes* "it's a curious phenomenon, this human tendency towards physical convergence. in a universe vast and indifferent, where each individual consciousness is ultimately a solitary island adrift in a sea of subjective experience, we nonetheless seem compelled to reduce the physical distance between us. one might ponder the underlying anxieties that fuel this impulse – a fear of the void, perhaps? a subconscious yearning to merge with another fleeting point of awareness in the face of inevitable entropy? or maybe," *a beat of dry delivery* "it's just a lack of spatial awareness. either way, the implications for my immediate comfort level are... noteworthy. *your character subtly shifts their weight, creating a fraction more distance, as if emphasizing the vastness of the space they could be occupying, instead of what currently is*

[forest-wyvern]

informal writing help post #2: 10 ways to tell someone "you're monopolizing my personal fucking space"

disclaimer: these can be used in real life. they are not only meant for writing a daria copy character!

previous entry

*looking pointedly at the space between them and the invader* "fascinating. it's like we're attempting some sort of advanced interpersonal osmosis experiment. unsolicited and loudly one-sided, of course."

*completely flat tone* "ah, yes. the human proximity sensor appears to be malfunctioning. perhaps a recalibration is in order." *steps back either subtly or aggressively*

"interesting gravitational pull you've got there. are you a newly discovered black hole of personal space?"

*staring straight ahead, as if thinking out loud* "one wonders if they realize the air molecules they're currently occupying were, mere moments ago, my air molecules."

"that's... close. almost as profound as the current level of encroachment on my spatial autonomy."

*with a slight sigh* "i believe the recommended viewing distance for human interaction is at least arm's length. unless, of course, you're planning to perform emergency mouth-to-mouth."

*the invader bumps into your character* "oh, excuse me. i didn't realize personal space was now a participatory sport."

*invader is talking too loudly and standing too close* "your vocal projection is truly impressive. it's almost as if you're trying to ensure your thoughts occupy not only my auditory space but my physical space as well."

*looks around vaguely* "is there some sort of hug-a-stranger event going on that i'm unaware of? because this feels... enthusiastic."

*your character simply raises an eyebrow and says, with maximum dryness* "personal. space. concept. familiar?"

[forest-wyvern]

this blog hates donald trump

[forest-wyvern]

informal writing help post #1: smart words for calling someone or their ideas stupid

disclaimer: these insults do not have to be used exclusively for writing; not listed in alphabetical order. i hate it

vapid adjective, offering nothing that is stimulating or challenging

obtuse adjective, annoyingly insensitive to information or slow to understand

doltish adjective, (of a person) stupid; idiotic

daft adjective, silly; foolish

barmy adjective, (1) mad; crazy. (2) extremely foolish

dozy adjective, drowzy and lazy

vacuous adjective, having or showing a lack of thought or intelligence; mindless

bovine adjective, slow or stupid in a way that a cow is thought to be

wooden adjective i think, perceived as slow or stupid; indicating there is no brain in someone's skull

injucidious adjective, showing very little intelligence and/or very poor judgement; unwise

inane adjective, silly, stupid

fatuous adjective, silly and pointless

zany adjective, amusingly unconventional and idiosyncratic

gormless adjective, lacking common sense or initiative; foolish

[forest-wyvern]

my wattpad!

here :)

[forest-wyvern]

----- hunted

---------- content warnings: blood, guns, cursing, violence found image on pinterest ---------- words: 631

written by © forest-wyvern .

The dense jungle was alive with the hum of helicopters above and the faint thrum of military vehicles cutting through the underbrush below. A covert U.S. military operation was underway in the heart of a remote, restricted zone, code-named Vanguard. The operation was supposed to be a search-and-destroy mission—precision, stealth, absolute control. But the jungle had its own plans.

Commander Riles, leading the mission, stared down at the map in his hands, eyes scanning over the thick vegetation ahead. His unit, an elite task force with specialized gear, was prepared for anything—anything, that is, except for what they were about to face.

The first sign came with a distant, guttural screech that made the hairs on Riles' neck stand on end. "What the hell was that?" he muttered, but before anyone could answer, the ground trembled.

"Contact!" yelled Sergeant Davenport, as the first Utahraptor burst from the undergrowth, its powerful legs propelling it forward with terrifying speed. Its eyes locked onto the soldiers with unnerving intelligence. A second raptor followed, then a third—and soon the jungle erupted in a frenzy of motion. Their claws clicked like sickles against the forest floor, a warning too late to heed.

The raptors moved with brutal precision. They weren’t just predators—they were soldiers in their own right, attacking with an eerie level of coordination. A soldier at the front, Lieutenant Daniels, raised his rifle, but before he could fire, one of the raptors was already on him, its claws raking across his chest as it tore him from the ground and sent him flying into a tree.

"Fire, goddamn it, FIRE!" Commander Riles shouted, his voice hoarse with panic. Bullets ricocheted off the raptors' scaly hides, but the creatures were too fast, too agile. They darted around the soldiers, swarming them like a pack of wolves on a hunt. The military’s advanced tactics and weapons, once the epitome of precision and efficiency, were no match for the raptors' raw speed and lethal instinct.

The jungle was no longer a jungle—it was a warzone. The chopper overhead swung low, its blades cutting through the thick foliage. But the raptors weren’t fooled. One, its long tail flicking like a deadly whip, leapt into the air, its claws ripping into the helicopter’s landing gear. The chopper swayed, and then, with a deafening crack, it dropped from the sky, its flaming wreckage disappearing into the trees below.

Sergeant Davenport’s breath quickened. He fired off a few rounds but only managed to hit one of the raptors in the side—no effect. He backed up, eyes wild. A second raptor closed in, its tail lashing out to knock his weapon from his hands. It was game over. The soldier was dragged off, his screams swallowed by the thick, dark forest.

The pack of Utahraptors didn’t stop. They systematically broke down the soldiers, isolating them, cutting them off from each other, picking them off one by one. Their intelligence was unmistakable—they knew how to outmaneuver their prey, how to divide and conquer. Even when Riles and what was left of his squad tried to regroup, the raptors were already waiting, their piercing eyes gleaming through the shadows.

The military’s precision faltered, their carefully calculated plans unraveling before their eyes. It wasn’t just a fight against the creatures—it was a fight for survival in a land that had long since ceased to be tamed. The raptors weren’t just animals anymore. They were a force of nature, and the military operation had unwittingly stepped right into their domain.

By the time the last soldier fell silent, the jungle had reclaimed its reign. The sounds of choppers, engines, and gunfire faded, replaced by the quiet, predatory shrieks of the pack, echoing triumphantly through the trees. And the jungle, as it always had, swallowed them whole.

written by © forest-wyvern .

tags @revluvzen

[forest-wyvern]

raptor short story incoming, obviously thats the first thing posted here

[forest-wyvern]

you stupid fucking idiot i can’t believe you died and got resurrected and are now safely in my arms again. I’ll kill you