#and the way it just CRASHES down through the snow with its big fish tail swinging

[10millionyearsdungeon]

Hydrophilinae

A/N: Okay, sinners, this one was work. Breaking from my usual, I picked another unsung character from the pack and...well, this left me feeling somewhat unnerved throughout for various reasons. It’s part of the BNHArem “Choose your fantasy” collab. Consider this a teaser for what to expect with Kinktober, lovelies. Thanks for @hisoknen and @dymphnasprose for beta reading, and for not letting this kick my ass. I went a more modern fantasy route, and was inspired by my recent trip with the husband and friends to the beach...Presenting: Monoma Neito, the Phantom Thief.  For you brainier readers out there, the title alludes directly to the type of creature I based our handsome (if unstable) suitor on. Enjoy~ ================================================= Every year at summer’s end you and your family would retreat to the shore. The house you stayed in, borrowed from a family friend in exchange for the occasional odd job or favor from your father and brothers, was one of the oldest on the island. The town that settled there was an old fishing outpost, and many of the locals who lived there year round still tended to their nets by hand and left symbolic offerings to the regional deities to bless their boats and ensure a bountiful catch. As a child you grew up chasing your brothers along the private docks and across the island as they hunted for the next big adventure. This year was different-- you came alone this year, your family too busy or unable to come down the coast with you for your annual retreat, but your benefactor extended the invitation to your friends to soften the blow. 

Keys in hand, you looked at the house with its pale green siding and something about the familiar sight of the brackish water lapping along the pylons rising from the sea made you feel uneasy. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched as your girlfriends screamed and cooed over how excited they were to have the entire house to themselves for the week. They scrambled to unpack the cars as you stared out across the water from the carport, the unusual stillness of the waves making you uneasy. 

The longer you stared, the more intense the sensation of being watched became. You couldn’t see anyone standing out on the sandbar, and there weren’t any boats sailing across the sound. Shaking it off, you continued to unpack, only half paying attention to the conversations bubbling around you. It was nothing, you told yourself. Just some pre-vacation paranoia…”An afternoon at the beach might make me feel better, “ you sighed, peeling your clothes off to change. The transition from unease to vacation-ready was tenuous, but necessary if only to shut up your housemates for the week. The walk to the beach was a short one, thankfully. 

The world melted away under the summer sun. Sand between your toes, you took to reading the waves, eyes resting wistfully on the whitecaps as they broke on the shore. Something pulled you from your spot in the blistering sands and past the breakers. It started as a whisper, begging you to go further. You were past the whitecaps, just treading over the gentle roll of the tide pulling you out to sea. You couldn't feel sand beneath your toes, and time slipped away from you. All that existed is the glint of the sun off the water and the constant rolling waves. It was almost peaceful out there between the sea and sky. Even underwater you could feel that pull, the familiar song begging you to submit. 

"Come closer, follow me deeper. Trust me."

You followed, entranced by the call, by that warmth in your chest when the waves crashed overhead. By the time you surfaced and glanced back at the shore, the people were ants crawling along the sandy strip in the distance.  

Hesitant to go further, you felt something cool brushing against your legs. Soft, almost lovingly caressing your calves as if to soothe the soreness from your exertion, you swore they were long, pale fingers ghosting over your skin. You'd sigh if you could afford the breath it would waste. Opting to float on your back, sound and sight deprived from the blinding sun and sting of salt water, you contemplated what it would mean to give in. The song conjured your thoughts to wander deeper into your most secret fantasies. A handsome face framed in gold with piercing blue ice chips swimming in a polar sea haunted your thoughts and you swore you could almost taste him with every spray that coated your lips. The wandering phantom hands grew bolder as they traced up the curve of your thighs. Shivers danced up your spine as another wave rocked your body farther away from the shore. “Come with me,” you heard the silk and velvet of his voice resonate through the water. You had but a moment to take a single breath before you were yanked from the sundrenched world above the breaking tide. The sudden violent seizure from the surface world left you spluttering under the waves. Eyes burning, you caught the flash of platinum hair and arctic-white skin peppered with indigo scales along his toned obliques and shoulders. There was almost something reptilian in the way he moved through the balmy water. His azure eyes rested expectantly on your thrashing frame, and he smiled. So caught up in your fight to the surface, you failed to notice the long serpentine tail coiling around your dwarfed body, keeping your head from just breaking the surface. “You took too long,” he chided, wagging a pale finger in front of your horrified face. “You’re in my world now...and I don’t like to be kept waiting.” Your voice was numbed by the brine encasing your vocal cords, a fact he seemed mildly annoyed by. Vision in dappled sunlight, your caller twisted his dark coils tighter around your hips and rested the tip of his tail between your thighs. Entranced by his otherworldly beauty, you allowed yourself to go limp in the dark coils of his winding tail. His pale hands wandered along your body, casually inspecting your warmth as he went along. The current didn’t seem to affect him the way it did you, nor did the violent rising of the tides. Suspended in endless blue, you choked out a muffled cry as he gripped the swell of your breast with a harsh hand. 

Your lungs burned, begging for oxygen, but trapped in the clutches of the smirking leviathan you found that you stopped caring as soon as you felt his scales rubbing along your legs. Caught between his siren song and your sense of self preservation, you writhed against his tail, the friction between your thighs and into your core further clouding your judgment. He peeled away the triangle of fabric hiding your breasts from view and flicked the forked tip of his serpent's tongue along your exposed bud, his grip holding you against the current. 

Your mouth opened in a soundless moan at the slick sensation on your nipple and with it came the burning cry for oxygen in your chest.  Locked in against the smooth, shimmering jet scales, consciousness seemed a distant dream. As the darkness crept in, devouring your sundrenched world, you felt him sink his teeth into the tender flesh of your breast and the writhing of silken skin along your core. You felt your body sink into the serpent's clutches, ripping you from the world you knew before. As the tingling in your breast flooded through to your periphery, you found yourself not caring if you met your demise in the arms of a handsome mythical beast. In the back of your mind, you couldn't shake the idea that it wasn't real-- it couldn't possibly be. Offhanded you promised yourself that you'd stop binge drinking with your girlfriend's on an empty stomach again. 

++ “Come to me…” 

The sound pulled you from your bed, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Nearly 3am, you couldn’t understand why you would be awake just to look across the water. It was too early for the other boats to be off their mooring, and the world was quiet other than the slapping of the waves against the waterlogged wet-dock.

"Come with me, come to Monoma," a soothing voice whispered above the waves. You were alone on the balcony off of your room overseeing the bay. There wasn’t another living soul above the water who could be calling to you so alluringly. You wanted to turn back, withdraw back inside the safety of the house and curl back up into your bed until morning. You didn’t want to answer the call, but your body wasn’t your own anymore. Limbs heavy, you felt as if moving through a dream. Despite the warmth in the air, the wind blowing in off the water made your lungs seize with the frost of winter. You climbed down the stairs to the wet dock, that calming male voice whispering to you. It started as a warmth in your chest. Your toes were at the end of the pier, the turbid water kissing each one in warning. You trembled, searching for the source of the voice when you finally saw him. 

Blond hair slicked back with brine, pale blue eyes fixed firmly on your enthralled being, he smiled  and held a hand out to you from the tide. "Come with me," he sang teasingly. His lips were blue against the snow of his skin. Reason begged you to turn away, to forget the voice and it's alluring owner. You knelt to meet him and the constant of his smile only to feel him whisper his song against your lips again. "Come with me." The melodic sound crested with the waves as they lapped against the dock. Frozen to the spot, you felt your breath seize in your chest as the blond smirked impassively in his scrutiny. Your eyes closed and for a second you could taste ice and salt on your tongue. ++ Sunlight poured in through the blinds. Head feeling ten sizes too large, you moaned into the small space of your room and shielded your eyes from the brutal sun. “There was no way…” Your mouth was dry, almost gritty as you pushed from your bed and climbed down the stairs to find the house was empty. “I guess everyone’s already at the beach…” you murmured to yourself, casually raking your eyes over the half-empty bottles staggered along the kitchen bar. It always fell to you to pick up the pieces after a wild night with your friends, but this one felt like you were on the outside looking in. Did you have too much to drink? You still tasted salt and sand on your lips, the memory of the blue-eyed man with his intoxicating voice still lingering like a bad dream. As you returned the bottles to the liquor cabinet and wiped down the alcoholic remnants of your friends’ breakfast from the counter tops, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. You collected your things for the day and loaded into your car to drive into town to collect supplies, all the while struggling to ignore the ache in your chest that something or someone had invaded your temporary home. Pulling out of the carport, you glanced up across the private dock and could have sworn you saw a flash of platinum blond hair glinting in the sun at you in the rolling waves. The old man running the general store for the island was a tanned, gnarled caricature of a person, but his grinning face was one you had known since childhood. Old Nobu waved you over and took your basket from your arms. He took one glance into your tired face and frowned. “Y/n, you look rode hard put away wet. What’s going on?” You waved your hand and smiled sheepishly. “Nothing. Just cleaning up after my pack of wild animals.” He nodded, raising a skeptical brow at the haunted look in your eyes. “Really, Nobu, I’m fine.” 

"Y'know, if you and your friends aren't careful, you're gonna get snatched up." You rolled your eyes. Getting snatched up from your getaway would be the least of your friends' concerns considering half of them were more worried about making their potential "dick appointments" with some of the local shipyard workers. You shook your head and gave the old man a grateful, if forced, smile and continued on your way. Car loaded with groceries, you drove the five minutes back to the beach house, curious to find it still devoid of your friends. Your keys jingled emptily as you balanced the heavy bags on your hip and fumbled with the lock, all the while failing to ignore the sensation of ethereal eyes boring through your thin sweatshirt. The gulls cried a lonesome dirge overhead and you were met with the roar of a second car pulling into the port beside yours, your friends’ giggling and screaming as they filtered out of the enclosed space and up the stairs breaking the comfortable quiet. “Y/n! Come here! Meet these cuties we brought back!” You rolled your eyes and retreated into the chill of the house and its air conditioning. The last thing you needed to complicate your vacation was some vapid boy out to score. The boys filed in with your girlfriends and dug into your groceries, earning another defeated sigh. Abandoning the task, you snuck past the starving horde and slunk to the private dock, your father’s boat still moored tightly to the pier. “My, I didn’t think I’d find someone so pretty pouting in a place like this.” Recognition sparked behind your eyes as you pulled away from the waves, an all too familiar shock of platinum hair and slow, casual smile greeting you with a chuckle. “You know, it’s rude to stare, Y/n.” Your eyes widened for a brief moment, only for you to turn your attention back toward the deceptively calm waters. “Shouldn’t you be upstairs with the others?” He seemed to consider your question for a moment, his smile never wavering. “Why? I didn’t come here for them.” He spoke with such certainty, as if it was painfully obvious why he would come and invade your personal space. “Besides, you’re being a poor host, Y/n…” the way he sang your name made your skin crawl. The way the sunlight reflected from the alabaster of his sculpted torso burned your eyes. Did he even see the sun? Pale as he was, there was something undeniably attractive about him, the confidence he exuded. “I don’t recall giving you my name, or being properly introduced.” “Neito~! Come back up here and show these ladies how to take a proper shot!” your friend drunkenly cooed down at the young man. He waved her off casually and held out his hand to you, as if to lead you back into the chaos above. “Come with me?” The way his tongue lolled over the syllables of his request had you frozen to the spot. Did it always sound like that? The familiarity of his request chilled you, your blood practically freezing in your veins as he hummed and raked those devastating blue eyes along your frame. Your breath seized in your chest and you shook your head, withdrawing closer to the boat. The boy licked his teeth and swallowed back his distaste for your rejection. “I’ll ask again: come with me.” It came out as an order, the blond now visibly fuming at your refusal. You turned your back to him and returned your gaze to the pale green waters lapping at your ankles earning an ill-concealed growl of annoyance from the blond. Your friends called out to the blond again, and as quickly as his seething came on, it evaporated behind a cruel-yet carefree simper. It wasn’t right; the way he so casually invaded your space, the familiar way he rolled your name on his tongue like honey; all of it left you feeling like a stranger in your own skin. Your friends invited an anonymous man, several anonymous men into your sanctuary away from the bustle and exhaustion of the city, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that they unwittingly led a viper into the den. ++ 3 am rolled by, and again you were pulled from your bed by that same haunting call. You didn't even open your eyes before your ankles were in the water and the wooden dock was digging into the backs of your thighs. 

He smiled intently and rested his forearms on your lap. He smelled like salt water and sunlight resting on your thighs. "Hello, again," he hummed, toying with the hem of your sleep shorts. His chest was bare, almost milky white contrasting with the green of the water. The water was a mirror, still aside from the gentle rippling of the tide. In your hazy state, the contrary waves and swirling of the water kissing against your legs seemed ordinary. Otherworldly, the man casually stroking his icy hands along your bare thighs had you hypnotized by the empty sky in his eyes. 

"We've got to stop meeting like this,” you breathed out. He made himself comfortable and rested his chest against his folded arms, chilling you skin wherever he touched. "I don't even know your name."

"Doesn't matter, darling. I know you well enough. Besides, you'll be mine soon enough." 

You pursed your lips and he smiled again, still stroking your inner thighs with piqued interest in how to best steal your innate warmth. 

"Are...are you the Phantom Thief?" He scoffed openly at the question, rolling those gorgeous eyes at you mockingly. 

"And if I am?" 

His reply was simple, yet loaded. Without anything else to go by, you leaned back and sighed through your nose. 

"This is some dream," you half mumbled out, knuckles turning white with how hard you held onto the dock. Your pulse raced and every fiber screamed for you to get away, to put as much distance between you and the blue-lipped Adonis in your lap. He looked a little taken aback by your comment, but rolled with it all the same. Your ignorance played into his favor after all. Something in his easy smile chilled you to the marrow. Out of the corner of your eye you could have sworn you saw the rippling of jet scales breaking the polished mirror of the sound. 

"I'm a dream, am I?" His voice was haunting, tone at the edge of condescending when he ran a pale hand through his slick flaxen hair. You nodded dumbly and earned a chuckle for your honesty. "Let's make it a pleasant one then," he humed, pulling his torso from the water to feather butterfly kisses along your neck. Your skin bubbled with goosebumps. Caught between revulsion and delight, you stiffened with his advances. His giggle made your stomach churn, adrenaline forcing your heart to pound against your ribs so hard your chest hurt. 

"I...I know you." The words numbed your mouth as they tumbled past your lips. He was so close, painfully, teasingly close. "I think I do." 

"Curious you can still think." His fingertips were freezing against your skin as they ghosted past the hem of your shorts and along the crease of your thigh. A shiver made you keen into his wandering hands as he tugged your shorts and panties to the side to tease along your lower lips. "That won't last long," he purred. 

The water below churned with another gentle wave, splashing over your soft whines against his cheekbone. The rolling of sporadic waves lapping against his back and your calves hinted that something huge was looming in the deep. Cool scales and thick muscle brushed against the soles of your bare feet, a sensation that had you bucking into the blond's fingers. He leered down at where his fingers disappeared into the warmth of your cunt, stretching the circles of muscle with curiosity. You squirmed into the burn as he scissored his fingers against your tight walls, humming at the pleasant slick coating his digits as you whimpered into the chilly night. It wasn't a loving embrace; it felt more like an examination, like he was searching your most intimate parts for that telltale ridge that would send you careening into bliss.

"Come for me," he sang into your ear, the purr almost compelling you to arch into his grasp and follow him into the depths. Feeling you convulse into his hand, he grinned sardonically, digging his fingers deeper until he felt that tight ring of dense tissue pucker and spasm against his finger tips. "Come," he ordered, compelling you against all reason to obey. His ultramarine eyes shone brightly in the floodlight off your balcony into the bay, ebony scales practically sparkling like polished onyx along the white perfection of his completion. He opened his mouth as you came, needle-point fangs gleaming before he sunk them into the meat of your neck. You came undone on his fingertips as he prodded at the neck of your cervix, groaning into your bloodstained flesh with every wash of his tongue. 

Your body went limp against the dock, held up only by his strong torso and the coils of strong muscle and scales twisting underfoot. How much time passed before you regained control of your faculties? Body heavy and brain hazy, you moaned into his bare chest, aching from the loss of him. "Of course you'd be perfect for this. I knew you would be," he crooned, the dock rolling suddenly under you. Your eyes remained glued to the waves, but the waters were calm. Staring blankly ahead as the lights along the opposing shore twinkled in a twilight taunt, you felt yourself lurch forward, folding over your molester's hard shoulder. The sun was beginning it's slow climb above the horizon, the waters so clear you could see the snails and crabs scuttling along the bottom between the twisting, swirling coils of an impossibly long serpentine tail. Paralyzed by the burning, numbing sensation pooling into your fingers and toes you were helpless against him as he pulled you into the water. 

Salt water burned your sinuses and lungs on the way down, the constant drag against the current only driving more water into your airways. You wanted to scream, to fight back but your body wasn't your own anymore. The struggle you craved was answered by leadened limbs and the swirling sea as the phantom thief carried you through the current. Cold water rushed into your lungs, and for a moment, in the strong arms of your captor, you thought you were going to die beneath the waves and no one would ever know. The intense pressure of the deep blue crushing your body as he carried you swiftly through the swirling darkness made your nerve endings sing your impending funeral dirge. It was only a matter of time before the warmth left your body, robbed by the invasive chill of the surrounding blue. When you came to, you rolled to your side, bent over onto yourself and forced the seawater from your lungs and belly with heavy, shuddering heaves. Just when you thought you had expelled everything left in your body another wave of nausea ripped through and had you retching against the stones cradling your battered body. Teeth chattering, you pulled your knees into your chest and shivered, cold sinking down to your bones. “You’re not going to get any warmer like that.” Your muscles locked from the chill, but you knew the voice taunting you from across the din. The bite at your neck oozed with every throb of your quickening pulse. You heard his footfalls before you saw him. Your pale Adonis towered over your shivering body, bare to the elements and proud. He crouched down, canting his head with an impassive raise of his brow and ran a surprisingly human hand through your soaked hair. Even in the dim light of the cave he was deceptively gorgeous. “Surprised you survived. Good. Now the real fun can begin,” he sang. The cavern itself was a natural marvel, all violet hues and soft-worn stone. The pale green glow of bio-luminescent snails and starfish mirrored the night sky you were forced to abandon. 

If it weren't for the spasming of your muscles from the cold or the bite of pumice against your palms and knees you would almost be impressed. Instead, your awe and wonder we're tainted by the deep shadows cast on your captor's face as he drew closer, always leering at your shivering frame. He stood proudly on two legs and reached out to quiet your chattering teeth with a harsh and heavy hand latching onto your jaw. His white-blond hair fell into his eyes and for a moment you swooned, chest and neck throbbing in tandem with your racing heart. 

"Neito…?" you whispered. He furrowed his brow and hovered over your lips with a wicked grin. 

"Ah, yes…that’s one of my names. Figures you’d be the one to have enough sense left to recall." he forced you back to the stone floor, crawling along your body as if to offer you warmth and comfort. "You couldn't just be one of those brainless, little collections of holes like the others. So...complex, but that’s why you’re so special," he purred, digging his fingers into your abused cunt. "It's only a matter of time before my venom runs its course. You'll feel it...burning its way through your pathetic little veins and you’ll beg for the cold." The quaking wracking through your body wasn’t from the freezing water clinging to your skin, but the fear seeping to the forefront of your mind. He sneered at your cries and ran a tongue along hypodermic fangs, teasing another droplet of cloudy venom out to drip along your exposed flesh. The fire building in your core was immense, burning its way from your chest and threatening to devour you from the inside out before the shifting terror slipped his glamour as your pussy clenched futilely around his agile fingers. It robbed you of voice, urged you to buck into his coaxing hand. “That’s it, darling…You’re almost ready.” You dared to look up at him, capturing a fleeting glance at him when the scales wavered into view along pale marble forearms and the cut of his torso. The gradient from his snowy complexion and the midnight sky of the winding serpent’s tail cradling you on the cavern floor would have been stunning if you weren’t choking out what you felt could be your last breaths. You could feel a slimy growth nudging you from behind. The sudden texture change from smooth to slick made your skin crawl in a way that made your stomach twist in on itself in new ways. It rubbed between your ass cheeks through your soaked shorts in a way that made you feel violated. The titan above you let out a shuddering groan, mouth open enough for you to watch that all too familiar forked tongue loll out in twisted pleasure. His fingers tirelessly worked your spasming cunt open, and it dawned on you exactly what he intended as his combined saliva and secreted venom drooled into your mouth in nauseating ropes and coated your lips and cheeks. As your body relaxed into the abuse, the appendage grew bolder, slipping under your clothes to tease you directly. “That’s it, darling, relax for me. Relax for Monoma,” he purred. You could taste his lust and the fact that your body obeyed without a fight made you want to cry. He withdrew his hand from your core and watched as you whimpered over the loss of him exploring your quivering hole. “Relax,” he crooned. “It’s not going to fit if you fight like that.” The heat threatening to consume you stoked hotter as you spread your legs and melted into his glistening coils. “That’s it…” You turned into your belly and your cheek brushed against the smooth stone almost instinctively. Suddenly feeling even more exposed, you fought to squirm away only to be met with another swift bite to your shoulder and high cackle. “Ah, ah, ah, darling.” Without another word, you felt the air hit your back and bare ass-- clothes ripped asunder by claws like polished glass and you never felt so small. Something slick and strong teased up into your throbbing pussy, earning Monoma a keening moan that echoed throughout the titan’s lair. It was sweet music, a prelude to the overture he’d pull out of your curious little body. Your breath caught in your chest when you felt the fork of his tongue tease into the deepest reaches of your sex, and he knew you were ripe and ready for him to claim. More heat built up in your core and your screaming only fueled the serpent’s pleasure. He continued his tease and growled at your near-release, swiftly retracting his tongue from your spasming cunt with a cruel spank. “You’re mine, darling.” You felt the flexing of smooth, silken scales dragging between your thighs as your kidnapper shifted himself along your body. The human-like torso draped over your back gave way to that all too familiar slickness rubbing along your lower lips. Monoma at your ear, he let out a shuddering gasp as the tip of his cock teased your warmth. “Or you will be, soon enough…Gods, you’re delicious,” he moaned out. It only grew harder and slicker the longer he rutted against you, filling you with revulsion over what you had been reduced to. Strong arm wrapped around your waist, he positioned your frame to his liking and plunged that slimy cock into your waiting pussy. It was nothing like you’d ever felt before- the way it filled every inch and then some, how it seemed to caress against your cervix and g-spot simultaneously with its length, every thrust sending you deeper into maddening pleasure. The tip of his elegant tail brushed against your engorged clit and nearly sent you into a thrashing orgasm. It was enough to distract you from the second appendage slipping its way between your ass cheeks to tease your neglected asshole. The slick collecting against your skin banished your thoughts and reduced you to exactly what he wanted-- you were nothing more than a cocksleeve to quiver and moan out for him as he emptied his clutch into your waiting womb. The sensation of gel-encapsulated eggs sliding through into your clenching uterus left you brushing the highest peaks of euphoria. Lovingly, he rubbed his hand along your tightening abdomen and purred in your ear. “Come for me, darling. It’ll be easier to accept them if you come for me.” “Please,” you whimpered as another egg glided effortlessly to join the others. Being pumped so full and kept cycling on that high made you dizzy. Tunnel vision claimed you and consciousness abandoned you, leaving you just another warm body for the serpent to rut into as you spasmed and came around his cock involuntarily. It was a loaded “please.” Please be just a dream, please be just another figment of my overactive imagination. Please make me cum again. Please let me go. In the sweet embrace of the dark, you floated between reason and safety. You would wake in your bed and go about the rest of your vacation, at least that was the hope. Perhaps a dreamless sleep would have been preferable to the hellscape your imagination conjured… ++ Another morning came and with the rising of the sun, you found yourself aching, bruised, and entirely too dressed. Your neck throbbed dully under the thin cotton of your t-shirt, and your arms and legs were covered in bruises you couldn’t recall getting. Was it another crazy night of blackout drinking with the girls? You pushed those thoughts aside and opened your eyes to find you weren’t alone. Staring longingly beside you was the same familiar blond from a few days before. Those empty blue eyes burned through you in a way that left you frozen; his hand blazed a trail over your stomach and rested just above your panty-line in reverence. Confused, or maybe half-asleep, you pushed his hand away and nearly folded in on yourself when you felt your insides shift. The fluttering in your lower belly made your blood run cold. You sat up and glanced down at the slight bulge disappearing back into your skin as another curved you to meet your own hovering hand, as if attracted to the warmth from the outside. Neito grinned and propped himself up on an elbow to watch you slowly piece together your new lot. He flicked his forked tongue at you teasingly and dragged you closer so he could feel his hatching clutch flit inside your accommodating womb. “Aren’t they beautiful, darling?”

[cosmica-candy]

Chapter two: one pretty fishy

Another chapter written by @mechamastermind​ with illustrations done by yours truly for our Coraline NSR Au!! I apologize for the lack of illustrations 

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING, Abandonment and Neo getting in trouble

Chapter one

Neo was returned back home later as his Daddy grabbed the last of the briefcases, before calling Neo back over. 

“Neo! Come on, help me carry Papa’s luggage up to his room!” 

Neo was stomping around angry cause of the way his father treated him, he got a proper scolding when he came home just for being over the hill with Yinu, to Neo he was out playing with a friend, but to Neon he was out far past where he could see him, and that demanded a scolding apparently.

Neo kicked his feet through the dry piles of dirt, the terrain so old and worn out that a mini cloud of dust filled the surrounding area, leaving Neo to cough and try to fan away the debris. When the dust settled though Neo looked down and saw a glint in the yard. Buried under the falling dust seemed to be a palm sized metallic object, and Neo's natural curiosity would drive him to pick up said object. 

“Neo! Come on!” 

He looked closely at the thing in his hands now, pressing a little button at the top as it sprung open, revealing a system of moving gears and clicking springs. A pocket watch. None like Neo had ever seen, it was clearly very old in design yet shiny despite its age. A jade ring around the minute and hour hands, and the X’s in the roman numerals were all made in gold.

“Woah…” neo simply said, before hearing his daddy call out to him a second time. 

“Coming daddy!”

Neo pocketed the watch and ran after his daddy following him up the stairs. Neon carrying the big heavy briefcase with all of Nova’s shorts, and Neo carrying the small little snow globe with the solar system in it, gently shaking it as they walked up the creaking stairs, and past bits of wallpaper peeling down like the curled nails of an elderly woman. The second story was so much more quiet than the first, the wind blows outside and into the front door, but once it starts making its way upstairs it stops dead in it's tracks. The insects they refuse to chirp on the second story, instead they do their best to crawl through the walls of the mansion without disturbing a thing. Even the wood of the stairs as they go up begins to silence itself, as creaks become quieter and quieter with each step, until even the wood falls peacefully somber. The second story was so much more quiet, it was certainly peaceful in its own way. 

But even silence has its own killer, and does not live forever. As the quiet and dull silence that has draped over the second floor is suddenly cut down in its prime by a deep gutteral animalistic growling, air flowing in and out of a mighty beast. Neo froze when he first heard the hall suddenly filled with the boom of something much larger than him making its presence clear, meanwhile neon had no such fear… as he simply opened up the master bedroom door to reveal the source of sound, being that of a passed out nova face down in the bed, his snores pouring into his pillow and shaking the bedframe. 

Neon walked over to the dresser, beginning to unpack the briefcase of shorts he carried, while neo walked to the bedside with his snowglobe in hand. Placing it on the nightstand next to nova, as he turned the key on its side… playing Neo’s favorite tune. Neo looked to his Papa for approval, thinking it might rouse the beast from his slumber. But nova’s eye was still shut even if pointed at Neo… Neo reached up to tug on his papa’s sleeve. Tug tug. He was only responded to with a small groan as Nova laid their still asleep. 

“Papa… Can you play yet?” Neo asked, and before he could get his answer Neon scooped him up under his arms and held him to his chest. 

“No buts neo… If you want to play with someone so badly, let's go find someone then!” 

“No No Neo, let Papa rest, he had a long night driving…”

“But…” 

“I…” Neo looked down at his feet, kicking them softly as Neon took him out of this room, and watched the door shut on his sleeping father. 

“...Can I go play with Yinu?” He asked, 

“Oh neo no one lives around here but us in the mansion… Oh! How about we go meet our new neighbors! I hear there’s a group of young kids!” 

“Yinu? I don’t know any Yinu here.”

“Oh! She’s the girl I met in the field!” 

Neo pouted once more, he knew of the group his father was talking about, he overheard him talking with papa about the other mansion tenets, the people living on the first floor were a group of college students, still much older than Neo, but comparatively young to Neon. But he was already in daddy’s arms and he couldn’t quite reach the floor anymore, so it was off to meet the neighbors, to his disappointment. 

First it was down the stairs, the first floor, past the entry room that led up the stairs to the other tenants. Neon stood in front of the first floor housing, with Neo in his arms. The door was the oldest one in the house, the tenants having done nothing to repair it even as it hung off its hinges. What they did do was manage to carve their initials into the front of it, “D, R, S, T.” there was also a newly installed doorbell made of sleek and shiny plastic, sticking out against the backdrop of the aging house. Neon reached out and pressed the button, making a horribly loud buzzing noise, as both Neon and Neo had a bit of a jump. Neo was set down at the door, as the crashing of foot steps came from behind it, door knob slowly turning, breathing heavy, shadow stretching out underneath the doorframe. Click. 

Door swung open, and a tall man with blue skin, covered in large white orbs all across his jacket looked down at Neo, holding all the emotion in his face. For a few seconds there was just silence between Neo and this stranger. Neo’s eyes quickly scanning him up and down as his child mind raced to try and find anything comforting, but he looked so cold, and what didn’t help was the katana strapped to his back, worrying neo even more. The silence finally broken by Neon as he greeted the young man, 

“Dodo! How are you?” Neo felt reassured by the sound of his Daddy’s voice, but the blue man would not respond… Neo still felt unnerved by his lack of a smile… 

“I wanted my boy to see your fun project! Perhaps you can show him?” Neon said, and this lit up the blue man's eyes, as he looked down at the young neo with a smile of excitement now, he stepped out of the doorway to reveal a hall lined with fish tanks, and at the very end was a door with many flashing colors coming from underneath it. Neo felt his fear all wash away as suddenly he felt at ease seeing the man finally smile, and the beautiful tanks full of fishies behind him. Neon gently pushing him inside as Dodo lead him in. 

Neo ran straight up to the fish tanks along the wall, bouncing on his toes with glee. He peered into the glass boxes, and into their bright colorful miniature worlds, each one designed specifically for them. Each one seemed to only hold a single fishy, and it was given the entire tank to play around inside of, filled with glowing castles, divers that created bubbles, and plenty of moving parts to keep the small fishes entertained. 

Atop her shoulders in place of a head, there was  blue ringed octopus instead, gurgling its tentacles out at neo much to his fright as he leapt like a cat into Mr. Dodo’s arms. The others extremely disappointed as well as their creation turned into a half fish, half human, half octopus monster of legend. So they gave it all a hard reboot, and once it was gone from their sight everyone slowly began to laugh at the experience. The girl in the pink hoodie hanging to Neo a poster, a design of what it was meant to be, and there on that poster was “Sayu”, a pretty mermaid girl with adorable features, bouncy hair, and a fish tail. 

Mr. Dodo opened the next door, the sound of music bopping in the background as it led into a backroom, lit only by colorful nontraditional lights, like Christmas lights strung up against the wall, or the dozens of computer monitors sat around a small glowing table. Sitting at that table were three other kids, all college aged roughly the same as Mr. Dodo. There was a larger man in a yellow tee, wearing an umbrella hat. Next to him was a girl in a pink hoodie, her face hidden by her attire as she didn’t look much at Neo. And lastly there was a boy in a plaid shirt and shorts. Each one hunched over a monitor with a piece of recording equipment in front of them, a microphone, drawing tablet, and a simple mouse and keyboard. Everyone's eyes lit up though when neo walked into the room, the boy in the plaid shirt standing up. He began pointing at the others in the room, despite their silence they all seemed to be on the exact same page, they began to work overtime for Neo, as the table in front of them lit up like a mini projector beaming its light upwards at the ceiling. All the other lights were switched down until there was only the glowing of the projector. And suddenly the light began to move and form a shape, starting from the bottom neo watched particles fall together and form a fishy tail, a bright and colorful pattern along its scales, then the middle, the waist was made, the torso and the arms, of a pretty and thin little woman, dainty and elegant her form was, complimenting her bubble gum like skin… Neo was enthralled seeing this amazing light show turn the air into this pretty lady.

At that moment one of the monitors exploded, lights began to flicker, as the rest of the girl was rendered. Poorly. 

Neo enjoyed the rest of the hour he spent with the Sayu Crew, even though they did not talk very much at all, they mostly sat around on their devices trying to remake Sayu again and get her modeling correct, occasionally taking breaks to drink sparkling water and stare at the fishes in the tanks for inspiration. Neo’s favorite part was the fish tanks, each fish seemed so happy in that little box, and shined so brightly. 

At the end of the hour neon came back around to see a much happier looking Neo being brought out to him with a little mini bottle of lemon sparkling water. Scooping him up under the arms and holding him to his chest, Neon thanked the Sayu crew for their friendliness and carried his boy back outside and down the steps, towards the lower floor now, residing under the house itself. 

Neon held neo in his arms, and stood in front of a painted door split down the middle in two coats of paint, on one half was white, and the other half was pink. To Neo the bright colors of the door were slightly alarming, they weren’t gently painted like the rest of the house, they were bright and vibrant, splattered on by paintbrush. 

Neon took his hand and pounded it lightly against the door, only to find it slowly creak open… 

Neon sat his boy down on his feet, taking his hand as he walked him into the bottom tenants housing, calling out to her. 

“Miss Eve? Miss eve? Are you home?” 

Neo looked around the hallway they walked in, to see the divots in the walls, and along those divots there rested statues of a woman's head, her skin tone split down the middle, pink and white, long blonde hair, her busts lined the walls. 

At the end of the hallway Neon and Neo walked into a large dugout, surrounding this hexagonal room were even more statues of this woman, standing in various positions and holding various objects. And in the middle standing atop a ladder with a chisel and bucket of paint in hand, was the very subject of all these statues, Miss Eve herself. Neo was wandering around the room, excited at all the fresh buckets of paint, as Eve was mindlessly painting her latest statue. 

Neo tapped a green paint can, expecting it full but finding it very empty, it shifted off the edge of the desk and fell onto the floor. The sudden sound shifted Eve off her ladder as she took a step off the ladder from surprise. The buckets of paint she was holding in her hands going flying and clattering against the floor completely recoloring the room. 

Neon gave his boy a scolding look as neo began to rub his arms. He ran over to help eve up as she seemed quite upset. 

“Did you not hear us coming in, eve?” 

“Neon could you go fetch me more buckets, they’re in the back room.” Eve asked, Neon nodding as he went and fetched buckets. 

“I was in my minds eye…”

She looked over at Neo, frowning at him as he shrunk in on himself… 

Eve walking up the step ladder again, but when she walked up the top she looked down at the floor, and saw what the paint cans had fallen into, the paint splattered in a beautiful but completely random pattern, and this put a smile on eve’s face, suddenly from upset to very happy as she looked down at neo now, seeing a tiny artist. 

She stepped off the ladder and knelt down in front of the boy with cupped hands against her cheek. 

“Well hello there little artist! I’m afraid we didn’t get introduced properly… I’m eve.” 

But neo didn’t respond back, he was still startled by the mess he made and worried about the trouble he was in. It was quite clear he was very close to crying… that’s when eve got an idea. 

She went over to her fridge and pulled out one of her Artistic Juice boxes, neo’s eyes almost instantly lit up as he saw her pull it out. 

She walked back over to him with the juice box in hand, as she looked down at the tiny artist, 

“Perhaps you’d like some juice? I find juice helps me when I feel down…” 

Neo bounced as he looked at the extremely tall woman with the juice. Reaching up with the grabbiest of hands, clamming up at her wanting the juice already. 

She pulled the straw off the back and poked it into the top for him, kneeling down as she handed it off. His eyes sparkling for a moment as he took a long hard sip. 

Neon walked back in to see his boy and eve giggling over two juice boxes, their feet covered in paint as they stomped around on the wet floor. 

Neon darted over taking neo up into his arms, a mix of frustration and concern. 

“Thank you miss eve for your hospitality but I think we must be going now.” Said Neon, as he took away neo and carried him back up to their floor, passing by the other boys as they all walked to their rooms for the night. 

Neon set him back down in the kitchen as he sat him against a kitchen chair, pulling his shoes off as they were absolutely covered and ruined with paints. 

Neon was upset for sure, so he left neo in the kitchen for a moment, coming back escorting a half asleep Nova into the kitchen, as Neon pointed down at his feet and the shoes on the floor.

“Look what our boy did, his shoes got ruined!” Neon exclaimed, as Nova began to frown at neo… Neo felt a new level of fear he didn’t know he had before… as he watched his large space dad kneel in front of him, picking up one of his shoes and holding it. 

“Neo… What were you doing to make your shoes all messy?” Nova asked, as neo couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. 

“I was… painting with miss eve… and stepped in the wet paint…” Nova simply sighed as he shook his head. 

“You can’t be ruining your shoes like this Neo… Your father will take you to get new ones in the morning.” He was so stern and direct, and Neo felt his heart sink… 

“You mean… you won’t take me, Papa?” 

“No Neo, i’ve got work to do.” 

“...But I didn’t… get to see you all day…” 

Neo felt his little heart twist as he was about ready to cry, he hadn’t spent time with his Papa in days it felt like, and it was just too much for him to handle… He tilted his head down as a few tears began to roll down his cheeks, hidden to both of his father’s… as nova simply turned away and went back to bed. 

Neo felt the tears burst like dams holding back too much water, as Nova leaving felt like the last straw. He hopped off his chair with one arm covering his eyes, darting past Neon who was too slow to catch him. Neo ran to his room, eyes tucked into his elbow soaking his sleeve as Neon stood back and just watched him run, gently sighing as he felt pain in his heart as well… 

Neo leapt into his bed, boxes upon boxes of unpacked toys and clothes stacked to adult height levels in his room, the only thing he had ready for him was a blanket and pillow, of which he held onto tightly as he poured the rest of his tears into it… 

Minutes and one tear stained pillow later, neo was laying there clutching onto it still, as his sobbing turned to sniffling and all he could do was look at his door, wishing, waiting, hoping that maybe Papa would come back and apologize, and tell him they’ll look at the stars again together… 

Neo ended up staring at the door for hours. 

Waiting. 

He fell asleep waiting. 

Another time, another place… large fingers, massive like loaves of bread descended down carefully against a workshop desk. Atop this desk laid a small mouse, as if disassembled of all it's parts. One by one the pieces were picked up, cogs and gears, springs and levers, in such massive hands carefully putting it back together again. The eyes put back into place, a tail reattached. But when all the pieces came back together it looked like any other mouse, just with a small keyhole in its back. It was missing the final touch. The massive hands reached into the desk, pulling open the large drawer to reveal a collection of hundreds of keys, various shapes and sizes, materials and textures. It hovered over the pearl section for the longest time, sometimes switching back and forth between it and the silver keys… but ultimately deciding on the bronze keys, picking one up and rubbing it in oil and wiping it clean with a delicate rag, before slowly pushing it into the back of the mouse. Locking into place as it turned the key several times, winding up now… 

The mouse sprung to life as soon as the hands let go, scurrying across the desk before leaping into a grandfather clock and disappearing. 

“You’re coming home soon, neo.”

Chapter three

[writers-blogck]

The Cat and the Crow ( Tengu!Hinata Shoyo x Bakeneko!Reader )

Warning(s): This is based on the yokai universe for Haikyuu on Tumblr. That was where I got the decision to make Karasuno Tengu. :>

Title: The Cat and the Crow  Pairing: Hinata Shoyo x Reader Fandom: Haikyuu! Word Count: 2,272

        You stretched your limbs, tail curling toward the sunny sky. The rock you were lounging on was just the perfect temperature for a nap. The sun was high in the sky and there was just the right amount of clouds to keep it from getting too hot. It was a perfect day and you were prepared to take a perfect nap. It was rare that you got any time alone so you were going to enjoy it to the max. The promise of a nap without being interrupted. 

        As a Bakeneko, you were lazier than your counterpart, Nekomatas. Unlike your more violent mirror image, your kind didn't eat humans. Sure, you liked to mess with them at times and play pranks but your kind tried to stay as peaceful as possible. In the rare case that a Bakeneko kills a human, they still do not consume them. The Nekomata on the other hand were hunters and humans weren't safe from being on their list of prey. 

        You still were unable to understand why the colony of Nekomata took you in as one of their own. Normally, Nekomata and Bakeneko fight with each other, often due to the human issue. But Kuroo, the leader of the colony, had saved you when you were younger. A group of yokai hunters had killed your mother and were planning on giving you the same fate but multiple pairs of yellow eyes appeared in the dark night. Before you knew what happened, the humans were dead and you were being surrounded by other cat creatures. You wouldn't learn until you were older that you weren't the same type of creature as the pride.  

        The clan tried to feed you some human meat after one of their hunts but it must be engrained in Bakeneko's DNA to dislike the taste as you refused for no apparent reason. It had been a hard and frustrating time but in the end, they just decided to feed you other meat like fish and beef. Fish was your favorite, though birds were good too. You licked the small fangs in your mouth, wondering how long it would be until it was time to eat. That was one of the strict rules of the colony: you only eat when everyone eats. Everyone must be taken care of before you were allowed to eat. The exception to that rule was Kuroo. How many times had you seen him skip a meal because there wasn't enough? Perhaps you should try hunting on your own to help the pride. You weren't fully matured yet, still being called a kitten by the other members. You were the youngest member and you doubt that they will ever call you anything else. You were the baby. 

        A black feather fell from the sky, brushing against your nose which caused you to let out a sneeze. Your eyes opened, looking up at the top of the trees to see where the feather had come from. All you could see were the hint of talons disappearing in the green leaves but that was enough. Perfect, your prey was just being delivered to you. Maybe hunting wasn't as bad as the others made it seem. 

        You were on your feet and up the tree in less than a second, ready to track whatever this creature was. Perhaps it was a big bird like a vulture? You could take something like that on. Instinctively you flexed your claws as you thought about how the pride would be so proud of you if you brought back prey. It was a rare occasion that you were given hunting duty. You would prove that you were just as strong as the other members. 

        Leaping from branch to branch, your keen ears followed the sound of the creature in front of you. It was big, you could tell that without even seeing it. Twigs were breaking and leaves were torn from their stems as it moved forward with the grace of a drunk kappa. This wasn't even a fair fight as you landed on the tips of your feet, hands simply whispering against the bark before you were jumping to the next branch. The creature was panicking. You could smell the fear in the air, though there seemed to be another scent that you couldn't place.         

        With a final push of your legs, you pounced on the creature you were chasing. Two bodies crashed through the tree's canopy before landing hard against the soft grass. The first thing you noticed was that the creature you were on top of was much bigger than you had expected. Shaking your head to focus your vision, what you saw once you opened your eyes again was shocking, to say the least. 

        Your golden eyes the color of daffodils fell upon a mixture of orange and black. Messy orange curls that had leaves sticking from them. Black wings that were stretched awkwardly under its body. You could feel an athletic build under your hands which were pushing against the creature's chest. It....No, he was another yokai like yourself. Your nails pierced the fabric that covered the boy, not pushing hard enough to draw blood. You could hear the blood in your ears as you felt your fur begin to stand on end. 

        "H-Hey!" A squawk escaped his lips, bringing you back into the present. You had never seen someone like this before. Normally other yokai stayed away from your territory. It was at that moment that you began to realize you may have traveled a bit too far away from home. Everything seemed to begin to close in on you: all the different smells you hadn't noticed, the lack of any familiar sounds, the strong sense of being utterly and completely alone. A small whimper slipped past your lips as you scrambled off of the boy, leaving him even more confused than he had been moments before. 

        He would be lying if he said that he didn't think you were attractive. The fur of your ears and tail looked so tempting to touch and he had a passing thought of whether you purr or not if someone pets your hair. His wings puffed out to make him look larger than he actually was as he sat up. His ribs were sore and would most likely be bruised by the morning but there were more important things at hand. A moment ago, he had been pinned down to the ground by a vicious predator and now he was staring at a quivering form that was more like prey than anything else. 

        If it were any of the others in his own colony, you would be dead where you were sitting. Karasuno's Colony of Tengu were fiercely protective of their own and any sign of a threat would be taken seriously. The image of your skin stained a blood red flashed in Hinata's mind and it was at that moment that he knew he couldn't bring you back to the nest. Not only would he get in trouble for bringing someone to their hidden home but there would be a very high chance that he wouldn't even be able to explain the situation before one of the others had sliced your throat with their talons. Harsh, but Hinata just knew they were being protective. He was one of the younger members, just recently learning how to fly. He had been out practicing when you had caught sight of him. 

        "Are you okay?" Hinata slowly extended his hand out to you but halted his movements when he was met with sharp hissing. Your ears were pressed flat against your head and your tail was puffed out in fear. Normally he would be scared of anything threatening him but somehow, he could see how scared you were. Maybe it was because you seemed to be around the same age as him. Maybe it was because you were way too cute for your own good. He had no clue. 

        "Leave me alone!" 

        "Hey, you were the one that tackled me to the ground. It isn't very fair to be getting upset at me when all I was doing was passing by. You shouldn't even be here anyway. Don't you know that this forest is the territory of the Karasuno Clan?" Everyone knew that people who went into that forest didn't come out. The rumors were only proven true by the bodies of Yokai hunters strung up in the trees as harsh warnings to other humans and yokai alike. If you had been slinking around when you entered their territory than you could have missed the hanging corpses, but how could you miss the scent of death? Weren't cats supposed to have a strong sense of smell? What were you anyway? 

        The red-haired boy actively made his feathers go back to normal, sensing no threat at the moment. What would Sugawara do if he were here? Tanaka and Noya would just kill you...Daichi too. Even Suga's brown eyes had held malice toward creatures that accidentally stumbled into the woods. He was very protective of his family and he wasn't going to allow anyone the chance to hurt them. 

        "I...!" You started but closed your mouth when you realized you had nothing good to say. He was right, you were the one that pursued him. If you had been playing around with Kenma or Lev, this would be the part where they would bite at your skin - nipping the exposed flesh gently. Each and every member of the pride just had to remind you that you were the baby. You would always be the member who needed the most protection. You had howled in protest many times before but at this moment, you were starting to think they were right. 

        "I'm not going to hurt you...As long as you don't hurt me. My name is Hinata, I live here." The boy offered you a small smile and you felt your stomach leap in a way it had never done before. It was rare that you interacted with anyone outside of the pack, especially people around your age. Part of you wanted to let your guard down while another side of you knew that would be a terrible idea. How long would it take for the others to realize you were in trouble? They still thought you were just out relaxing somewhere. When would they decide that it was long enough and that you must be in trouble if you weren't home yet? 

        Hinata offered his hand slowly, eyes soft as the freshly laid snow. Seconds passed by as the two of you simply kept staring right into each other's eyes. Was this a trap for you to lower your guard so he could attack? Even if it was, what was your other plan? You were stuck in a foreign territory and had no information on how to get out. You needed to get out before any of the other Tengu members found you. 

        "Please, let me help you. I can lead you out of the forest safely and you can go back to your house. I know this forest like the back of my ow hand. I'll be able to get you out without any fuss. I just need you to trust me for a little bit and then we can go back to being enemies or whatever afterward. I'm sure this is all some type of accident. We all make mistakes, believe me. I can't even count how many mistakes I've made." 

        Your eyes moved from his own to glare at his hand. His nails were a bit long but nothing in comparison to your own. He had his talons to hunt with while your own kind relied on your claws. If this boy did decide to betray you, you doubt you could end up on top. As soon as he got you pinned down with those sharp talons, it would all be over. 

        "Fine..." Slowly you took the boy's hand with your own. It was surprisingly soft in comparison to the ones you were used to. If the two of you were meeting in better circumstances then perhaps you would study the grooves of his hands but now was not the time. For now, you had to keep your attention sharp around this crow-like Tengu. The sooner you were back with your pride, the better. You knew you would have a scolding waiting for you when you told the others what happened but you would prefer that to being alone in new territory. 

        But you weren't alone. You were trailing behind a ginger-haired boy who was holding your hand like a delicate lotus blossom. Was he afraid he was going to hurt you? The pride had told you stories about other yokai but this was nothing like any of them. They had said that yokai were dangerous creatures even to other yokai and would never pass up the chance of killing one another. Yet, in front of your stood a gracious bird who seemed to genuinely want to help. Subconsciously, you tightened your grip on his hand. 

        "Follow me. I promise I'll get you out of here in no time." 

        Hinata was growing to trust you, something you didn't understand. You may want to lower your walls a bit but that was how yokai always got caught. You had to keep your guard up and be ready for anything to happen. Still, it was nice to get to hold a cute boy's hand, if only for a little while.

[monstrousromantic]

The Princess and the Spider

Words: 4719 

           Once upon a time there was a princess. She lived in the castle on the hill. Her life was splendor and blood. She was the only heir of a kingdom up to its neck in foes. Some days she wore gowns, some days she wore armor, but there was a single stagnant truth that could not be denied. Wherever she walked, death followed. One day she spent a little too much time out in the woods, and she took a tumble down a cliff.

           Once upon a time there was a spider. She lived in a cave by the sea. She spent her days weaving art out of silk and listening to the waves crash against the cliffs. She was happy and content, and she had many small friends to keep her company. Her gentleness was a boon to the creatures in the forest, her kindness a gift. Then one day, a human girl fell past her cave into the sea.

           Princess Maeve had decided to go hunting alone. Her day had been awful. A bow in one hand and the reins in the other, she veered off the trail into the deeper part of the forest. After all, prey knew better than to roam a predator’s trail. Coren clopped along peacefully, dark tail swishing as the leaves crunched beneath his hooves. Maeve wasn’t a bad tracker. In fact, she was certain she’d found something. The scuffing in the dirt, the delicate cracks of the twigs, these things were all she needed to figure out if something had been there. A clear track in the mud confirmed it. A deer, going the direction she was facing. She let Coren keep going.

           The sun had barely passed noon when she found it. A stag, alone. Isolated from his herd most likely. She readied her bow, the arrow positioned perfectly. She inhaled, ready to release on the exhale when a sound startled the stag. Her shot would have been head-on if only something hadn’t rustled the bushes. Her arrow, instead of the eye, was embedded in a tree as the stag took off. She swore and sent Coren chasing after it. She wasn’t losing her prey, not now, not ever. She wasn’t sure how long she pursued the antlered beast when Coren came to a halting stop. His startled whinny rivaled her own. She yelped as she was almost thrown from the saddle.

           As she recovered her balance, her prize stallion edging back down the incline, she glared around at her surroundings. The woods seemed no different. The sun glowed a soft shade of green through the leaves. The birds chirped away, uncaring of the human and her horse. A creek flowed nearby, the soft sound of water rushing through her ears. There was nothing to signify any danger, and yet the horse would not move forward. The deer was long gone. Maeve swore, kicking her heels just a tad harder. Still Coren would not move. She got off the saddle, attempting to pull him forward with the reins.

           “Come on Coren, what’s got you spooked? You lost us that deer!” She chided. The horse did not answer back. Instead a light sheen of sweat decorated his fur. Fear glittered in his eyes. Maeve was left baffled. Coren was one of the best horses in the stables, nothing could spook him. She’d seen him step over snakes with not a care in the world. What had him so terrified?

           She pulled at the soft leather once more. Coren took a step backwards. A loud crack echoed through the woods, and that was all it took for her favored beast to dart off into the forest without her. The princess, in her panic, called out for him to come back. He did not. She faced the wood again, the direction the deer had run off to. There was nothing. Her brow furrowed; she drew her bow. Just in case. It was entirely possible that the horse had sensed something she didn’t, he had better hearing after all, but it seemed irrational. If there was danger nearby, wouldn’t it have spooked that squirrel into a tree? The woodpecker hammering away at the bark?

           An arrow nocked; she took a few steps further into the unforgiving wilderness. Those two steps were all it took. It made sense now, why Coren had run off as he had. He’d been tall enough to see over the massive bush, where she’d needed to take a few steps to find a gap she could see through. The bear snarled, getting up on its hind legs. Maeve had been told many times what to do if she ever saw a bear, but the lesson fled her mind as terror set in. She did the only thing she could think of, which was coincidentally also the worst. She ran.

/*\

           Sir’vera let the silk fall through her fingers, ever soft and malleable. The same shade of white as the hair that flowed down her shoulders, that covered every inch of her eight legs. She wove the thread together, gently pulling it from the spinnerets at the base of her abdomen. The cold season was coming soon, and she wanted more carpets to put down in her modest cave. The stone could almost be enough to freeze her feet when winter woke. In that moment she wondered if she should weave herself another blanket. One could never have enough blankets.

           She shook her head. No. Once the carpet was done, she had to get to work on someone else’s blankets. She wasn’t sure what a pair of naga were doing so far up north, but they would also need help staying warm once the snow started falling. It was good to have friends, even if they only ever showed up when they needed something from her. She didn’t realize she was frowning until a little jumping spider tapped her face with a miniscule leg.

           “What’s wrong? You look sad.” The spider told her. She smiled and waved him off, careful not to let the handful of silk tangle.

           “Oh nothing. I always feel a little melancholy this time of year.” She assured. “It’s the weather. It makes you sleepy too.” She teased. Though the spider did not have as expressive a face as she, she could tell it didn’t believe her. She resumed her task, and the jumping spider joined his friends at the top of the ceiling. She pointedly looked away as he pounced on a smaller, weaker compatriot. She was able to persuade them to get along most of the time. Most.

           She was impressed with their work though. It wasn’t often she could get the various spiders of the forest to work together so well. She wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be yet, but the tapestry was still under construction. She could see shapes along the outlines, nothing in the middle yet. Trees perhaps? She smiled. She wouldn’t interrupt them. It was nice that they were willing to do favors for her at all. She was almost finished with her new rug, and she knew exactly where she’d put it. There was a criminally bare spot by her nest, which was decidedly far too cold when she woke up in the morning. Something absolutely had to be done about it.

           As she stared down at the offensive spot of stone, she pondered. She held up the completed square of silk. It was certainly big enough to cover the spot, but she wasn’t sure how to integrate it with the other rugs she’d made. Most of them were decorated, pretty pictures woven within, but this one was entirely plain. Perhaps she could hide the corners beneath the others? She had to hold in her sigh. She could think about it all day if she needed to. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do. Maybe she’d dedicate the next several days to rearranging everything. That, at least, would preoccupy her mind for a week or two. That was when she heard it. The roar of a bear, and a scream. She rushed to the entrance of her cave only to see a human woman whisk past her face as she fell off the cliff into the sea.

           She let out a startled yelp herself, and immediately leaped into action. She tied the end of her silk to one of the boulders that shielded her home from the elements, and she scaled the cliff down. She tried to move quickly, but the unfortunate truth was that her limbs were large. She needed to find crevices to fit her feet into, and with a dawning sense of horror she realized she’d lost track of where the woman had fallen in. She hoped she wasn’t too late. As she reached the waves, she searched the water frantically. She could feel the icy saltwater lay claim to her feet. Sir’vera couldn’t help but recoil.

           “There!” A tiny voice said. “She’s right there! See that dark shape?”

           She did, and thanks to the jumping spider that had lodged himself into her hair, she was able to fish the human out of the water and bring her up to safety. She shooed her smaller friends off the mound of blankets she called her nest. The human was sopping wet, and completely asleep. For a terrible moment Sir’vera thought she might be dead when the daintiest cough escaped her blued lips. Then she started retching saltwater. Relieved, if mildly disgusted, Sir’vera got to work.

           The armor the human wore had an obnoxious number of buckles and ties. As she maneuvered the poor thing over to the fire pit, gently patting her back as she coughed, she grappled with the leather for only a few moments before she reached the end of her patience. Sir’vera found herself mentally apologizing as she severed the buckles off with her talons. There was simply no time. She placed the disassembled pieces in a corner, swiftly moving to rip a blanket out of her nest and swath the tiny human within. As the small creature shivered, the spider eyed her brazier critically. The flame had grown smaller, the embers dimming. It wouldn’t hurt to add another log or two.

The fire roared and the woman had finished throwing up water. Swathed in Sir’veras silk he had drifted off to sleep. Sir’vera cradled the head on one of her fluffy legs. She couldn’t help her curiosity. She’d never seen a human up close before. She knew enough to tell that this one was female. The males had hair on their faces, this one did not. At least, she thought that was right. It could be the other way around. She could ask when the human woke up.

She placed the back of her hand on the human’s forehead, checking for fever. The spider blinked, taking notice of the human’s face. Long lashes, rounded ears, she was very pretty. Sir’vera recalled the stories her mother had told her about these creatures. That they were brutish, cruel. Single-minded and violent. They were vicious to anything not their own, and they would not hesitate to end her should they ever find out about her existence. That was what her mother had told her, and that ensured Sir’vera remained entirely confused.

           Gently she combed her claws through the human’s hair, conquering the tangles the sea had wrought. What was her name? Where had she come from? What did she do with those flimsy little fingernails instead of claws? Sir’vera gently wove the dark hair into braids as her new friend fell into a deeper sleep. The shivering had stopped, and she hoped that was a good sign.

She touched the human girl’s cheek. It felt soft, not much different from her own. Her arms, too, were similar, but she only had two eyes. That seemed terribly inefficient. What caught her interest most, however, was the feet. The human had such odd legs. It seemed she should be clumsy with only two, but she had run fast enough to get away from that bear. Away from the bear but over the cliff. She thought ruefully. It seemed they couldn’t control their speed very well.

           Curiously, Sir’vera lifted a corner of the blanket. Gently, she scraped the tip of her claw over the sole of the human’s foot. The flesh was as soft as that on her hands, only the slightest bit tougher. It would be so easy to wound her, with no natural protection. The human flinched, and Sir’vera’s heart stopped. Had she hurt her? But the woman hadn’t been roused from her sleep, and so the enormous spider continued her inspection. The little toes were cute, but also not good for self-defense. What made these creatures so threatening? Perhaps she had sharp teeth? The spider replaced the corner of the blanket, baffled. She could not for the life of her figure out just what it was that made these little human creatures so dangerous.

/*\

           The last thing Maeve remembered was the bear.

She’s been running so fast, faster than she’d ever run before. She had leapt over logs and dodged stray tree roots. Her survival absolutely had to be the work of the divine. For a split moment she thought she’d escaped. She thought she could no longer hear the bears lumbering strides, that it’s slavering jaws wouldn’t be sinking into her throat. Maybe it had grown bored, and that was why it had slowed down. As her luck gave out and she finally tripped, she realized that was not the case as the crashing waves pulled her down.

Yet, when she opened her eyes, she realized there was no sea, no cliff, and most certainly no bear. Maeve woke to the sound of a crackling fire. Sparks flickered as her eyes drowsily slid open. Her sight felt funny, sluggish, as though she shouldn’t be awake yet. She felt warm and snug. As she reached up, she found that her hair had been tended to. Had she been saved then? Lady Luck was truly having a marvelous time toying with her today. Slowly she tested her limbs. Would it hurt to sit up? Her breath caught.

           Yes. Yes, it did hurt to sit up. She groaned and let herself lay back down. She took the opportunity to turn her neck, inspecting her surroundings. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. She was clearly in a cave. The rocky outcropping of the ceiling could tell her that much, a tiny hole carved out to release the smoke, but the rest of it was hidden. Soft white rugs completely encased the floor, the only spot left bare being by the brazier. Candles sat on small wooden tables, illuminating the spaces that the fire couldn’t quite reach. Then there was the pile.

           A pile of what she wasn’t sure, but it looked to be the same fabric that doused the rest of the cave. It was piled high, almost in the manner of a mattress. Was that someone’s bed? It looked positively enormous.

           “Oh, you’re awake!” A voice chirped. As Maeve looked over, she realized with a rising sense of dread just what the pale fabric was. Her luck had gone down again. The woman standing before her wasn’t completely woman, that was quite certain. Her hair was long, the color of freshly fallen snow. Her form was slim, her curves soft. Her hips bled into something decidedly inhuman, eight legs as furry as her pet kitten sprouting from what Maeve supposed was a rather large abdomen. Her face was pretty, though the four eyes were disconcerting. Four eyes the exact same color as the sapphires in her mother’s favorite tiara. Maeve was deciding how to respond when the odd woman-spider continued.

           “Are you feeling any better? That was quite the fall. I checked you over for wounds. There was a small gash on your arm but thankfully nothing seems broken, though I imagine you’ll be quite sore for a while.” She winced apologetically. Maeve got a glimpse of razor-sharp fangs. She knew that some species of spider were venomous. Was this creature as well?

           “Um,” Maeve started. She could feel her brows furrowing, instinctively grabbing for her clothing only to find that, beneath this blanket, there was nothing else covering her. She supposed the spider-woman took note of that because a crestfallen expression took her face.

           “Do I frighten you?” she asked gently. Maeve felt the bafflement run through her chest, followed quickly by guilt. Why guilt? The spider looked sad.

           “No,” Yes. The girl looked unconvinced. Still, her clawed fingers offered up a steaming clay bowl. As the scent wafted over Maeve found that her mouth was watering. Without thinking she took the bowl and let the steaming broth run down her gullet, chasing away the remaining ice in her bones. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she’d been, happily fishing out chunks of meat with her spoon. After the first several bites, her stomach felt sated enough that her mind could wander. What was she supposed to do? She had heard of creatures that lived in the forests, creatures that did not appreciate the presence of humanity in their lands, but the massive spider didn’t seem to share that sentiment. As the spider watched her, almost eagerly, Maeve got the sense that she was curious.

           But then, she could also be trying to fatten her up as a next meal. The human torso looked awfully thin. No matter how comfortable the spider silk was and no matter how delicious the food, she had to get out of this cave.

           “My name is Sir’vera.” The spider said, “What’s yours?”

           Sir’vera’s voice was gentle, hypnotic. Maeve wasn’t sure if it was the light volume or the softness of her tone, but there was this underlying quality to it that made the princess want to listen to her forever. It put her even more on edge than before. A thought struck her. As much as the nonhuman fairy tales were said to dislike humans, they’d dislike the notion of many humans even more. There was no doubt a search party would be out looking for Maeve, and she sincerely doubted this creature would want to be discovered. Maybe a fancy title would be enough to get her out of here unscathed?

           “Maeve, Princess of Illoria.” It did not have the effect she’d hoped for. The spider’s jeweled eyes widened in awe, her smile growing even brighter.

           “A princess? How wonderful!” She paused. “Though I have to admit, all I know about princesses is what I’ve read in fairy tales.” Her voice took on an air of mortification.

           A dream. This had to be a dream. An odd, fever induced dream that she was living out on some poor old fisherman’s cottage floor. That made infinitely more sense than a wild spider woman in a cave knowing how to read. The girl wasn’t even wearing a chemise! Could she, considering her anatomy? One question at a time.

           “Where did you learn how to read?” She said. The spider – Sir’vera, though Maeve wasn’t sure why she’d need to remember since this was just a dream – had the audacity to raise an eyebrow at her, as though the answer should be obvious.

           “My mother taught me. Didn’t yours teach you?” Sir’vera didn’t wait for a response. “What were you doing so far out in the woods? I thought humans lived in large communities. As a princess wouldn’t you be protected?”

           “I was out hunting.” Maeve could feel her voice taking on a defensive tone. “And I would’ve had that deer too if it wasn’t for that damn bear.”

           Her head was beginning to hurt. As nice as the soup had been she could feel her mouth drying up, her sight growing foggy. Was it time for this bizarre dream to end? She supposed so. She could see Sir’vera’s mouth moving, likely asking more questions, and then the next thing she knew she had fallen over. Maeve was so tired, and she just wanted to go back to sleep. She could faintly register the spider girl standing up, a panicked expression crossing her strange face.

           In that moment, all Maeve could think about was how comfortable spider silk was. Then she dreamed real dreams, about bears and spiders and the sea.

/*\

           Sir’vera was panicking. She wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong. One moment the human was sitting upright, the empty bowl sitting stable in her hands. She’d been pouting about her botched hunting trip when she’d just toppled over. Sir’vera had jumped right into action. She lifted Maeve’s head, supporting her shoulders with her arm. Unsure what else to do she poked at Maeve’s face.

           “Maeve? Maeve?! Oh no you need to wake up! I don’t know what else you need!” She squeaked, doing her best not to wail in the sick woman’s ear. As she tried to shake the princess awake a twirling shape in front of her caught her attention.

           “Calm down!” A widow said, the blood red hourglass glittering in the firelight as she hung from the ceiling. “Humans require water more often. Perhaps you should offer her a drink from your cask?” She coaxed. Sir’vera blinked and then nodded. Gently, she set Maeve back down by the fire and inspected the drawers on her largest table. It had to be there somewhere.

           Finally, she found it. She grasped the soft leather triumphantly as she carefully unscrewed the cap. She stared down at Maeve, unsure how to proceed. Should she just pour the water in her mouth? Could the sleeping figure sort herself out? She didn’t think so. Sir’vera looked to the widow.

           “Now what?” she asked. The widow instructed her, telling her to tilt the human’s head just so and to only pour a little bit of water at a time. She had to rub a finger over a pressure point in Maeve’s throat, a task that had Sir’vera sweating, but she was able to do it just fine with the harmless edge of her knuckle.

           The human didn’t wake up. Sir’vera was worried and perhaps a bit disappointed. However, her breathing was even, and a bit of pinkness had returned to her cheeks. Was she supposed to be pink? The widow assured her that she’d done everything right. Exhaling, the woman set down her human charge, ensuring she was comfortable and not too close to the flame.

           “Thank you. How do you know so much about them?” She asked, trying to be polite.

           “I used to live in the corner of a doctor’s house. Incredibly rude man but very knowledgeable. I was taking care of his pest problem and he took down my web! You can imagine my indignation.” That was only the start.

           The widow carried on with her rant a while, Sir’vera nodding along and offering the occasional ‘hmm’ and ‘uh-huh.’ She was entranced. Now that she’d had a moment to calm down, she realized something incredibly important. The human girl sleeping by her brazier was even more beautiful when she wasn’t half-drowned.

           She allowed the widow to drone on to her little heart’s content, and as soon as she retired for the night Sir’vera took the opportunity to get closer. A thin sheen of sweat coated the woman’s forehead, and Sir’vera wondered if it was the fire or the fever. She shot a glance to her bed. Fever was supposed to be taken care of that way, right? She decided she could survive the night without two of the forty blankets that sat in her favorite corner.

           She pulled the desired fabric from her nest, folding it neatly so it would better cushion her new friend on the cold, hard floor. Gently she lifted the woman in her arms and set her on the bed while she worked. The space on the floor wasn’t small, but she didn’t want to risk setting her silk alight. Everything had to be positioned just perfectly. As she settled the human into her makeshift bed she wondered what she should do, but one thing was certain. The human would have to stay much longer than she initially thought. For such allegedly terrifying creatures the widow hadn’t been shy with her information. Humans were immensely fragile.

           The princess would just have to stay longer, and content with the thought Sir’vera settled herself into her own pile of blankets. She happily snuggled into her pillow and let her legs splay out, but despite it all she found she could not sleep. She was simply too excited, too awake. Her mother had often told her that her impatience would be her undoing, but she just couldn’t help it. Though she closed all four of her eyes and willed herself to drift off, she simply had too much energy. Unconsciousness would not claim her yet, and as much as she wished they could have talked more Maeve wasn’t going to wake up any time soon.

           It was then that she heard it, the harsh song of the wolves as they cried out their victory over whatever prey they’d caught. She took a brief glance around her little cave. The widow had mentioned that humans required small but consistent meals, especially when sick. It would be less than ideal if Sir’vera couldn’t provide. She decided to put all her newfound energy to good use. Hunting by the light of the full moon would be delightfully simple.

/*\

           The castle was in an uproar, but it was a quiet uproar. The breeze blew by peacefully. The ivy crawling up the stone walls lay undisturbed. Servants bustled about as they did every day, and gentle chatter echoed throughout halls and courtyards. No battalion approached; no soldiers were to be sent away. All was seemingly well. Yet within, the royal family and its inner circle were in hysterics. The queen was locked in her chambers, the sound of her cries piercing in the halls. The king sat in the war room with his generals. His dark eyes belied his night of sleeplessness. He stared down at the map, greasy curls hanging in his face.

           He would not sleep, eat, or bathe until his daughter was returned to him. There simply wasn’t the time to waste. The Green Army maintained a stalwart fortress to Illoria’s western border, the little miniature marring the delicate illustrations of grass and flowers on the map. The elves in the southern deserts didn’t press on their borders, but he knew that if Maeve strayed too close, they wouldn’t hesitate to steal her away for ransom. There wasn’t much to speak of in the north. Merely uninhabitable wasteland, frozen and unwelcoming. He wasn’t sure what it was home to. Hearing the stories from his expedition teams, he didn’t want to find out.

           There was just one problem. Maeve hadn’t gone in any of those three directions. She had gone east on her hunting trip. The tracker had been able to get that far before the rainstorm forced them out of the forest, drowning out her trail. All that existed there was coastline, the nearest port being leagues away. Anything could have happened to her. A wild animal. A cliff. An assassin. Thinking about it would only make it worse. Words could not begin to describe the anguish that King Lorenth felt when he heard that Maeve’s favorite stallion was found in the woods by a nobleman’s son, out on a hunt himself. Reportedly the horse had been terribly spooked, panting hard and hot to the touch. His saddle had been empty, the princess nowhere to be found.

           Lorenth had to take a moment to rest his eyes, they stung so bad, but there was nothing to be done for it. He wondered if he should have waited for a better time to inform her of the alliance he’d arranged. He wondered if it was worth losing his only child this way, to the wilderness where they might never find her.

           As his wife’s hoarse wail echoed into the war room, he could feel someone pat his back. General Veran’s scarred face looked down at him, his gaze soft.

           “Don’t worry your majesty, we will find her.”

[doctordiscord123]

Here Be Dragons

Another work I wrote for a writing competition a while ago, I didn’t win, but I still really love how the story itself turned out

The mountains were a sacred place. Mysterious and colossal, they held and hid so many secrets it was impossible to count. One could get lost so very easily, yet at the same time stand on the top of the world and pretend to be king. Buried beneath were treasures untold, precious gems awaiting to be discovered and revealed, next to the bones of those long dead, in graves long lost, trapped in a bed of stone and waiting to be found once more. The mountains were a dangerous place, sacred, and terrifying.

But they were home to so many.

They were home to the nymphs, the mischievous nature spirits that flitted through the grass of valleys and hid in the craggy rock and vast lakes, hidden and protected by their bowls of stone.

They were home to the Fae, those who flew through the air so fast they were a blur, their painted wings like a butterfly or hummingbird, and those ones whose idea of fun was leading lost humans so deep into the deadly mountain range they could never find their way out.

They were the home to the trolls, the stubborn creatures who hollowed out whole mountains to build their cities, the nature miners who dug deep to the Earth’s core in the search of precious gems with which they would decorate their homes, infamous hoarders who would steal the jewelry of a sleeping creature without a second thought.

They were home to the merfolk, playful water spirits who danced with the fish in the mountain lakes. Those who inhabited the surface lakes were bright and colorful, who loved to play with the nymphs when they came for a visit, and delighted in trying to knock the Fae out of the air by breaching their tails and spraying water. Those who inhabited the underground lakes were dark and rough, near blind with echolocating songs like their primitive ancestors of the dolphin and the whale, their song haunting and mysterious.

They were home to particularly stubborn humans, those outcasted from society or unable to bear their own kind. They were rough and hard-worked, mining with the trolls. They chatted with the merfolk and played hide-and-seek with the nymphs. They played tricks with the Fae (and warded them off, too). They climbed the tallest peaks and surveyed the world, squinting at the distant glimmer of human cities, at the scattered farms and villages of those who dared to be so close to the mountains.

And most importantly…

The mountains were home to the dragons.

Rare, magnificent beasts, with wings that could block out the sun and the moon in the same beat. A dragon’s roar could be heard across the world and answered with the call of a clan on the other side of the globe. They were revered as the Gods of the natural world, by both the Spirits and the Humans alike. It was rare to hear one and near impossible to spot, despite their massive size. And they were few and far in between.

A clan lived in the mountains, near the burial grounds of more of their kind. Dragons were hostile, territorial creatures. Wars were often among encroaching clans, brutal and bloody and lit up the sky with fire and lighting and blood. They buried their fallen, and they protected the bones, hidden in a valley deep in the mountains, where no human could reach and no nymph or Fae or troll dared go. The dragons were revered, and they were feared.

However…

If one was lucky and brave and dumb enough to sneak up on the dragons’ valley, they would find something much different than what the stories told. They would find the young – the hatchings with wings too small to fly with or too big for their tiny bodies that they would trip over – playing in the grass, nipping and squawking at each other and breathing flames no bigger than that of a blow torch, their iridescent scales sparkling and gleaming in the sun’s rays. One would wonder how something so small, something so cute and innocent and precious would grow into terrifying beasts that could topple whole cities with a single beat of its wings.

One would see the adolescent – the ‘teenagers’ with stubborn personality and brazen pride – learning to fly, leaping off of craggy ledges and desperately flapping their awkward wings, only to crash to the ground among the pearly ribs of their mighty ancestors sticking out of the ground in great tusks of bone. The adolescent crashed, and they snorted puffs of smoke as they picked themselves up, licking their scales clean of turf much like a cat and shook off the young nipping at their wings and tails and attempting to instigate a playfight. They would spread their wings and scale the craggy walls of their valley home, perching on their ledges to try again.

One would see the adults – great behemothic beasts with a size incomprehensible to man – laying on the ground, woven between the bones of the fallen and watching their progeny play and try to fly with expressions that could almost be described as amused. Or, they could be seen higher up in the mountains, curled in massive caves that littered the natural walls like a honeycomb, carved into rock by generations of claws and fire and grating scales. The females protected their nests of eggs – nestled so far back in the caves that sunlight couldn’t reach – with a ferocity rivaled by no other beast on Earth. The males respected their mates, not daring to go near for fear of her sharp claws and sharper teeth. They were the ones who curled around the mountain peaks and spit fire into the sky, the ones who roared for the other side of the globe to hear.

As magnificent as these creatures were, none could compare to the Alpha, the leader of the clan, the ‘King of the Mountains’. He was beautiful, with curled horns as thick around as a tree trunk and golden scales that made him near blinding to look at while within the reach of the sun’s rays. He had undisputed authority, all bowed to him when he reared his golden head. His mate was never far from his side, a glimmering silver-scaled beast with piercing blue eyes that could almost freeze a creature in ice when she gazed upon them. He had authority, but she was feared; even the Alpha bowed to her call. No human could ever attain the raw power this royal couple held.

There is one story told – in the villages, on the farms, in the city – of a woman who once dared to venture into the Valley of the Dragons. It is fondly told, recounted as both a cautionary tale and one akin to that of the fairy tales of ‘Beauty and the Beast’ and ‘Snow White’. The woman was a witch, a wiccan who lived off of and taught the powers of nature. She was healer, renowned for her abilities, so much so that even the King of the nearby kingdom stepped down from his throne to venture to her humble cottage and ask of her help. She was kind and pure, with flowers in her hair, and the face of someone who was both as ancient as the mountains themselves and as young as the blossoms of the cherry trees.

One day, it is said, she ventured into the mountains, along a path she had traveled many times, in the search of special plants that thrived off the juxtaposing land between the lush valleys and the cold stone, where mountain met earth. It is said that she knew every nymph by name, that the trolls gave her their precious gems as freely given gifts. It is said that she gossiped with the merfolk for hours, sang with those buried underground, that even the Fae left her out of their harsh pranks and games.

She was wandering down this path, it is told, when she stumbled across a dragon. Just a young hatchling, they say, no bigger than a cat, with wings that couldn’t even allow a mouse to fly. The hatchling, as most commonly told, was a beautiful shade of emerald, the kind of shade one would have if they crossed brilliant gold with silvery blue. This was the Prince, lost from chasing glimmering sprites through the air, little creatures barely the height of a blade of grass.

The wiccan gazed at the Prince, at this foolish hatchling so very far from home with eyes to match the sky and squawking desperately for his mother, and kneeled down on the grass with outstretched arms. The Prince looked at the wiccan, at this human openly displaying herself for well-placed burst of his tiny flames, and leapt into her arms, wings flapping and chirping and pressing his forehead to her cheek. A sign of friendship. A sign of promise.

She cared for the Prince. The merfolk gave her fish to feed him, the nymphs wove bowls of bark and leaves to carry water for him, the trolls adorned him with the jewels they’d spent centuries gathering, and the Fae placed a flower crown of rare mountain lilies upon his head. The wiccan cared for the Prince, and the Prince enjoyed her company, running circles around her and attempting to snap at the Fae much like an excited puppy.

They say she walked right into the Valley of Dragons with no hesitation nor fear, the Prince trailing along behind her. They say the Valley was in chaos with hundreds of dragons frantically searching for the hatchling. They say time stood still when she walked in, and one by one the dragons lifted their heads to stare and gawk at the human who had so foolishly and disrespectfully marched into their sacred home.

The Alpha reared his head, roaring to the sky with a breath-taking display of flames before snorting smoke and lowering his head so his snout was mere inches from her face. Smoke still blew from his nostrils, snarling and growling and revealing teeth taller and thicker than her whole person. Had anyone else walked into the Valley of Dragons, had anyone else received the complete wrath of the King himself, they’d have run off with their minds broken and their throats raw from screaming, or sliding down the throat of the Alpha. But the wiccan was a friend to the mountains and the creatures it called home, and she brought the Prince home.

The more pessimistic storytellers say she was swallowed whole by the King anyway, for the blatant disrespect she showed by entering the Valley, Prince or no. Others, the more optimistic tellers, the ones who wish to spread the awed reverie of the dragons rather than feared reputation, say that King closed his eyes and bowed his head to her, in a grand display of respect and gratitude. Those tellers say that she is the first – and only – human to be able to walk freely into the Valley without fear of being slaughtered. She played with Prince, with the other hatchlings. She helped pick the adolescent up off the ground after they fell. She gossiped with the females, helped clean their scales. She allowed the males to pin her between their claws and practice their roars, and she listened to the stories of the elderly, those with dull scales and wise, knowing eyes.

And when she died, they say she is buried in the Valley with the fallen members of their kind. For she was one of them. She belonged to the mountain in spirit, and in mind, and at last in body. And they say a great willow tree sprouts from where she lays, providing shade and care for all those who lie under it.

Variations of this tale are spread all across the globe, all with their own twists and spins. Some of the darker versions paint the wiccan as an evil witch, one who kidnapped the Prince to gain command over the clan. Some versions tell of a lost little Prince who finds a lost little girl alone among the trees and becomes adopted by the clan. And some tales say he is no Prince at all, but rather an abandoned, runt of a hatchling left to die in the unforgiving mountains and raised by the wiccan. That is the beautiful thing about legends; they’re always changing, always taking on new twists and turns as the story molds to the era.

In every story ever told of dragons, be it the endless variations of the wiccan and the Prince or others, the same image is painted; the dragons are meant to be revered for the powerful beings that they are, respected, worshiped in some cultures, feared. They lust for blood and paint the sky with it when locked in war, the echoes of pained screams lasting for decades after the conclusion of the vicious fighting.

Amongst their own, however, amongst their family, dragons are peaceful and playful, blowing smoke rings for their young to jump through in game and coming daringly close to laughing when their adolescent faceplant into the dirt. They’re just like any other family, with a home, and village of sorts, hundreds hiding and resting in the deepest corners of the mountains.

But beware, daring traveler, who stands on the edge of the mountains, for there is no turning back. Heed the warnings spoken by those closest to you, those who wish to see you return home. Learn from the tales you’ve been told all your life, learn from the very real mistakes of fiction. And most importantly, listen to the inscription carved across the mountain face, in letters taller than a house that no human could’ve carved. Listen to those three little words, for they could foreshadow your fate. Listen to the mountains, heed their call, whispered in the wind flowing through the leaves of trees, floating in the petals dancing through the air, buried in the song of birds and the chatter of small creatures. Listen, and you will know.

Here Be Dragons.

[jocazep]

In the Whole Wide Train | Chapter 8

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Reader (Jo, OFC), slight Edgar x Reader

Warnings: Major spoilers for SNOWPIERCER, dystopian society and its countless problems, mentions of forced abortions, language, violence, deaths, slow burn, eventual smut

Synopsis: Having grown up in the Front Sections of the Snowpiercer, you venture down the train when a rare opportunity presents itself, but the excursion quickly changes flavor when you arrive in the Tail Section.

Taglist: Now closed

Series Masterlist

Chapter Eight - Catching Fire

The sight of the black soldiers, for lack of a better word, stunned the revolters into a eerie silence.

Before you could react, Curtis pulled you and Yuna behind him, his hand finding yours and clutching it. He could hear his own heart beating. Not only that, he could hear your heart beating as he stepped in front of you.

You looked back, and the revolters were all tense like never before. Everyone had the same look in their eyes. A look of fear, excitement, staring into the unknown.

This is it. This is the big one. This is where some of you die.

“Jo, take Yuna.” Curtis turned to you, whispering urgently as the soldiers lined up.

“Let me help, I can fight--” you started to say, but there was no arguing with Curtis. He cupped your face with his free hand, and stopped your protest with a quick but deep kiss, a soldier-going-off-to-war kind of kiss.

“Take care of Yuna and Tanya for me.”

“Just ’til you’re done with this. Then they’re your responsibility again.”

“Deal.” Curtis gave your hand another squeeze before he let you go.

You took Yuna and led her to the back, pushing past revolter men assembling around Curtis.

You came across Edgar, who probably saw your kiss with Curtis, and was now probably fidgeting in his boots out of fear. But he put on a weak smile at you, and said, “It’s all right, Jo. It’s all right.”

No it won’t be, you thought. But you force yourself to nod and went on.

Behind you, Edgar joined Curtis at the head of the revolters, and they started walking up towards the black soldiers. The sunshine came in through the windows, even stronger than Curtis remembered as it bounced off from the snow outside.

One soldier passed up a fresh tail of fish to the leader, who pierced it with his hatchet. The stark red blood dripped down from the fish, tainting the cold metal.

Curtis and Edgar watched this bizarre ritual, half marveling at the fish--which they hadn’t seen in almost 18 years, half preparing themselves for the battle up ahead.

“Be careful.“ Curtis said to Edgar, his eyes never breaking from the leader of the soldiers.

“Yeah, you too.” Edgar answered back.

In the back of the Protein Section, you stood on the steps of the cauldron ladder and watched the fish being passed down the seemingly endless rows of soldiers.

“What’s happening?” Gilliam asked from beneath you.

There were no words to describe the palpable tension on both sides. “It’s starting” was all you could say.

No sooner had you said the words than the two sides finally clashed. The disorienting yells from men, the sickening sound of metal cutting through flesh, the deadly thud of bodies falling onto the floor flooded the space.

You strained to pick out Curtis and Edgar in the writhing mass of blood and violence, watching as Curtis cut through soldier after soldier, splattering blood on the windows as he pushed forward. The sound of chaos faded away, and all you could see was Curtis. Your stomach turning each time he came across a foe, your breath returning each time he overcame one.

Curtis was also lost in the rhythm of violence, his early days of chaos returning to him, when all of a sudden--he stepped on the sacrificial fish, and fell on his back.

An axe came crashing down, and in that split second, his entire life threatened to flash in front of his eyes. His 17 fuzzy years on Earth, his 17 hellish years on the train. But then your voice and Edgar’s broke through the mist: “Just ’til you’re done with this...”, “Yeah, you too...”

And Curtis jolted into action--he rolled onto his side as the axe hissed on its way down, narrowly missed the back of his neck. Before he could get back up, Edgar came crashing into the assailant, knocking the latter on the ground. Curtis lost no time--thwack, thwack--he buried the hatchet into the soldier twice as red hot blood sputtered into his face. No time to process. He pushed on with Edgar.

“We’re pushing forward.” You shouted down to Gilliam and Grey, when all of a sudden--

A blaring horn resonated across the two sections. You saw three train conductors beyond all the onslaught.

“Upcoming, Yekaterina Bridge!”

Here comes. Yekaterina Bridge, and the long tunnel afterwards. They need a torch. You clambered off the steps, and found Namgoong, pushing past the men, pulling Yuna behind him.

“Namgoong, I need your matches.“ You said in your broken Korean.

"What?” Namgoong kept moving. The revolters had made decent progress along the section, so you quickly found yourself crossing the threshold.

You grabbed Yuna’s arm and yanked, forcing Namgoong to stop. “Matches, now.”

Whatever he was trying to do, he must be in a hurry. As you forced him into an impasse, the soldiers were counting down from 10 to welcome the “new year“. And you could see the anxiety mounting in Namgoong’s eyes with each number counted.

“Fine, take it.” He chucked you the matchbook, and threw in a few other Korean words along--which you were sure were quite advanced expletives.

You let go of Yuna, and turned back towards the Protein Section. Behind you, you could hear the soldiers chanting “Happy New Year”.

“Grey!” you yelled, “Catch!”

The book of matches flew through the air as Grey ran up, and closed his fingers around it. He looked up at you, somewhat perplexed.

“Get a stick, wrap some cloth around it--”

“IMPAAAAAAAACT!”

The snowpiercer rammed through an ice block on the railroad. The momentum sent you flying forward, right into the heart of the  fight.

But nobody was concerned about fighting anymore. Breaths were held, eyes were closed as everyone crouched low and prayed for the train to stay on the rails. Well, everyone except Namgoong and Yuna.

As you recovered from your fall, you saw the father and daughter stumbling towards a window, pressing their foreheads against the glass, looking for something below the mind-bogglingly high bridge.

Up front, Edgar also noticed. “Hey, Nam, what are you doing man! What are you doing! He’s high as a fucking kite.”

You looked towards the sound, and found Curtis and Edgar. They were seated close to the soldiers that moments ago were fighting them, but now all were hanging on for dear life.

You took this in, your father’s words resonating in your head again. What did he call it? The last sanctuary of humanity.

At that moment, it felt like one. However twisted, however artificially controlled, however problematic. This train was keeping everyone on it alive. If the train falls, everybody falls, front-sections, tail-sections, revolters, soldiers, even the great Wilford.

Two more gut-wrenching ice blockades later, the train finally roared onto solid ground again, as the conductor announced through his megaphone, “Safe passage!”

And just like that, the fighting resumed. Curtis grabbed a hatchet lying nearby, and parried a blow from the soldier sitting next to him. You followed suit as more men got to their feet, picking up a small axe to defend yourself.

That’s when you heard it. A voice you didn’t know you had missed.

“Happy Yekaterina Bridge, you filthy ingrates.”

It was Mason.

Curtis had heard all of Mason’s platitudes before, and had learned how to block them out. But this time, Mason said something else, something he’d never heard before, something that rocked him to his core.

“Precisely 78.4% of you shall die.”

What did it mean? Of course he understood the words literally, and the sheer arrogance behind it. But why would Mason say this? Why 78.4%? That sounded like an awfully calculated number, didn’t it?

Curtis felt his rage bubbling up as his mind raced with the horrible underlying truth behind Mason’s words, and without really understanding what he was doing, he raised the hatchet in his hand and threw it at Mason--

Clang! The Icing hammer stopped the hatchet from ever coming close to Mason--and holding the hammer was Franco Sr. accompanied by his younger brother Franco Jr. as usual.

You took your eyes from Curtis and Mason to outside the window--the tunnel should be coming up. One by one, the lights above your head started switching off, like a foreboding countdown of sorts.  Then came the rustling sound of the black soldiers putting on night vision head gears. You start retreated towards the Protein Block section--

“Grey! How’s the torch coming?!”

You ran back into the dimly lit section, almost stumbling over Tanya as your eyes taking a moment to adjust. Curtis’s voice came from up ahead as darkness devoured the fighting section, “Everybody back!“

There were already a couple of impromptu torches made, as Grey and Tanya struggled to make more.

“Gimme one and light it.“ You couldn’t afford to waste time. Every second spent in the dark meant more revolters dying. With fidgeting hands you took up a torch, and Tanya struck the last remaining match in Namgoong’s matchbook.

For a moment the life and death of the revolt hung on a small metallic match. “Please catch, please catch, please catch...” you prayed with shallow breaths.

And then--the warmth of a burning flame engulfed you. Grey lost no time, grafting the fire to his torch and running into the darkness.

“Everyone grab a torch and light it with mine!” You held up your torch by the gate connecting the two sections, lighting each torch as revolters came running through one by one.

Before long, the section was lit a bright orange with the torches. And the revolters fought back. You ran into the section as well, looking for Namgoong and Yuna to make sure they were safe.

You found Yuna huddled in a nook, the metal panel originally concealing her knocked askew during the fight.

“Stay here, it’ll be all right.“ You tried to comfort her amidst the blood-curdling screams, and placed the panel back. It was only when you stood back up that you realized Franco Jr. had been watching you. Your hand tightened around the wooden handles of the torch.

A flicker of recognition showed on Franco Jr.’s face. As you pondered whether to fight him, another soldier came charging towards you, and Franco Jr. pushed you out of the way, and decked the soldier across the face.

Losing your balance, you staggered and fell on top of the slowly building pile of bodies. As Franco Jr. walked towards you, he extended a hand--

Wham! Edgar landed a slash across the back of Franco Jr. “You get off of her!“

“No!” was all you could get out before Franco Jr. made quick work of Edgar and had him in a chokehold, holding a long knife close to Edgar’s ribcage.

Up front, Curtis fought on, and with Grey coming to his aid, was quickly gaining the upper hand. Grey took the train conductor hostage, but Mason was unmoved. So he was the first of the front-sectioners to die. Then Grey took on Franco Sr. and when Mason tried to run, he managed to throw a blade at her, piercing her right leg.

Curtis was just about to hunt her down when he heard someone calling his name--

He turned to see you lying at the feet of Franco Jr., Edgar held in a chokehold.

He looked back at Mason--a female conductor was helping her limp towards the gate to the Water Section.

He looked back at you one more time. Franco Jr. yelled across the room, “Surrender!” Curtis couldn’t hear it, but he got the message loud and clear.

He had to choose. The life of his best friend. Or the biggest bargaining chip for the revolt.

He never thought it would be him making this choice. He never thought he would be making any choice. He was no leader. But nevertheless, here he was.

Your heart broke for him as you watched Curtis close his eyes, forming a determination. And your heart broke again for Edgar as he watched Curtis turn and give chase after Mason, as he made his own decision in turn and fought back against Franco Jr.

You tried to stop the suited mobster, pushing and pulling at him, but he shoved you off your feet, and foregoing whatever courtesy he had before, held you down with his foot on your chest. Brandishing his blade, he grabbed Edgar’s throat, turning him towards you.

The moment was scorched into your memory. Edgar held at knife point, you thrashing beneath Franco Jr.’s step. As your eyes met his fear-stricken eyes, you mouthed to Edgar the same words as before.

“It’s all right. It’s all right.”

The moment lasted a lifetime, and then your eyes blinked as the cold glint of metal flashed, and your cry was drowned in the sea of violence.

Taglist: @torntaltos @emmalbg @ajosieface 

[pennys-th0ughts]

A New Beginning 🌱

– You could have a nice job as a chef ¿you know? – Emilee pointed while cleaning her lips with the napkin after emptying her plate.

I smiled at her compliment and took a sip of water. Lunch went pretty well and after that we had some dessert, chocolate, vanilla and strawberry ice cream. Once we finished Emilee took a bag and put some fruits and something to drink inside, a light blanket and a couple of cake slices. She picked up her small purse from the couch and looking at me excited, she said:

– Let’s go. There is a nice place I want to take you…

I accepted her proposition asking her to come with me to the hotel to pick up my things first, the check-out will be soon and I didn’t want to raise any suspicions. She agreed, we took a cab and got there before time; I went up and grabbed the rest of my stuff, signed the check-out book and we left. Fortunately my luggage wasn’t big thus it was slightly comfortable to carry so I took it with me to this place Emilee wanted to go since it will spare us the time to go back to her place. We took a bus in the nearest bus stop and headed there, we were fifteen blocks away from that place so the ride would come in handy.

Almost twenty minutes later we were finally there. We got down of the bus and walked looking for a good spot to sit. We were at the Millennium Park and it was really beautiful, there was a fountain and a little pond with a bridge, some ducks were peacefully floating over the clear water and cleaning their feathers while some koi fishes were at the bottom.

– ¿So? – She asked waiting for my opinion about her choice-. ¿Do you like it?

– This place is surprisingly amazing, doll – I finally said caressing one of Emilee’s cheeks-. ¡I love it!

She took the blanket out of her bag and gave it to me so I put it on the grass, we sat down and she placed her purse to a side. I invited her to use my legs as a pillow so she could rest her head; minutes later I was playing with her hair and caressing her forehead. The few times she looked up and fixed her grayish eyes with mine I could appreciate the beauty of them; they seemed to be like two gray glass marbles being pierced by a ray of light. My eyes went from hers to her pink shiny lips and I got tempted to kiss them, she smiled at my uneasiness, sat down on my legs and kissed me out of the blue merging her fingers with my hair.

– I love the coper color of your hair – she said undoing my pony tail once more-. It looks like…

– Fire – we both said at the unison.

Emilee looked at me half puzzled half playful then she just hugged me like a koala bear; I returned the hug pressing her against my body tenderly as if she was made of the most fragile crystal. We spent some minutes that way, in silence, just feeling the warmth of our bodies, the almost palpable beating of our hearts and hiding the feverish passion we were being slaves of. In that precise moment I felt it again and made it all clear, Emilee and I were the same, like the reflection of a broken mirror, like two drops of water crashing against the floor; we were different on the outside but identical on the inside. Our appearances were costumes hiding the true nature of our kind making us blend in so we could survive in a world where there was no place for creatures like us. We were outcasts from a parallel universe where darkness was our light and immortality was our certain fate, where the thirst of blood was imminent and the hunger for human flesh couldn’t be eradicated. The dimension we came from was a vast land of endless chaos, pain and agony but where we could be seeing as the monstrous beings we were. All of that came to my mind as the cold and bitter memories they were.

– Bob… – Emilee brought me back to reality once again-. ¿Are you alright?

– Yes – I lied faking a smile-. I'm sorry, I was…

– You were elsewhere – she interrupted me with a slight but honest smile on her lips-. I know. I felt it too.

My eyes widened and this time I couldn’t hide my bewilderment, Emilee came so close to my face that the tip of our noses were almost touching, and then holding my look, her eyes began changing to their true color. The yellow branching was predominant in her eyes and the orange tones made them look like some kind of sunset. At this point I was even more shocked because she was entrusting me with her most important secret and that made me feel confident about revealing mine. I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed about the bond she was building between us and how strong it was getting the more time passed. I caressed her cheek and kissed her again and when I opened my eyes I showed her what they really looked like, she smiled looking reassured and sat down on the blanket.

– ¿Cake? – She handed me over a slice and took out a bottle of orange juice from the bag.

We ate in silence, enjoying the sweetness of the chocolate cake and the chirping of the birds that sunny afternoon. When we finished eating we decided to take a walk around the park and then the pond. During our walk Emilee hold my hand, she seemed happy and her smile was always present. The feeling blooming inside my chest was awkward but it felt nice, as if a thin ray of sun was finding its way through the deep abyss where my heart was. Knowing I wasn’t the only one of my kind in this world was something good because it would mean we still had the chance to make it ours in time.

The sun was hiding in the distance and a mixture of orange, yellow and violet pastel tones were merging with each other creating some sort of renaissance painting. We were admiring how the sunset was dying and the twilight was opening its eyes once more to a new short life sitting on a bench close to the pond, the dark water was mirroring a full moon as if it had a twin sister ready to come out and play. A cool and soft breeze started to blow; Emilee hadn’t brought any coat so I borrowed her my jacket.

– We should go back, doll – I proposed to her while rubbing her arms to get her warm.

– There is another place I would like to take you, Bob – she smiled shyly-. I promise it won’t take us long and I can assure you, you will like it.

Emilee was aware that that particular smile was enough for me to give in to her ideas and the innocence in her try was adorable. I shook my head laughing and offered her my arm so she could take me to that place.

After being some minutes walking we finally got there. The lights in the park were already on and the buildings surrounding the place were also lit up. When we step on the ground where that huge silver thing was my jaw fall freely, then I heard Emilee’s laughter.

– ¡I knew you would like it! – She said amused seeing my reaction.

– ¿What is this thing supposed to be? – I asked full of curiosity.

– It is what you see – she shrugged her shoulders and hid under the big sculpture-. This giant shiny silver bean was built in the year two thousand four and finished two years later – Emilee told me a little about its history-. The owner of this big “magic” bean was mister Kapoor and he will always be remembered with it. Amazing ¿isn’t it?

My perplexity got even bigger when I got underneath the giant structure with her and looked up; the reflections were repeated many times as if they were lots of galaxies about to be swallowed by the void in the center of this magnificent sculpture. Emilee got close to me, wrapped her arm around my neck and took a picture with her cellphone. She made me run after her a couple of times and when she finally let me catch her I was feeling more amazed than before.

– You look cute with my jacket on.

– ¿Would I look prettier without it? – She asked mischievously winking an eye at me.

My eyes narrowed menacingly and I instinctively bit my lower lip because I knew exactly what she meant by that, she took my hand and we left.

Once the door was locked she slammed me against the wall and kissed me furiously taking my clothes off on the way to her bedroom. We got upstairs tripping on and bumping against almost everything in our path, Emilee closed the door and the show began. I sat down on the edge of the bed and watched her taking her clothes off slowly, as if she was performing some kind of ritual, which was definitely working on me. Once completely out of her vestments, she started a slightly painful but satisfactory metamorphosis. The other three pair of arms got out from her body making their way out of it through her ribs and reaching their natural length. In her face two more eyes began opening, crowning her forehead as if they were amber stones. She didn’t want to lose her human form completely so she stopped half way and bowed at me showing me some of her real features. The soft layer of hair in her six arachnid legs was whitish as the snow and their tips were black like charcoal.

– Your beauty is stunning, doll – I got to say before she shut me up putting one of her silky paws on my mouth.

I let the rest of my limbs come out, but my appearance was very different from hers, my hairs were black and my back and chest were adorned with a big blood red spot, the ends of my legs and my three pair of eyes were also the same color. Back in my world those colors were meant to lure the females into a mating ritual but here they were completely useless.

I grabbed Emilee by the waist and made her lie down; I took some web from my abdomen and tied a pair of her upper legs to the headboard and then her human legs and other pair of arachnid legs to the foot of the bed. I let her human hands free so she could do whatever she wanted to do with them; I figured she would eventually need them, then I began torturing her in a slowly but pleasant way.

The tip of my tongue began tracing an erratic path, starting from her belly button and going up until her already hardened nipples which I kissed and softly bit. My lips played a bit in her neck and she began moaning, my kisses went downhill bumping from one spot to other making Emilee to arch her back like a cat. I hold her wrists above her head and started playing with her pussy already wet; I placed her clit between my fingers and rubbed it gently until she begged me to get inside of her, but I covered her mouth with the palm of my hand and kept playing with her arousal for a couple more minutes, only this time I would rub my pelvis against hers. Emilee’s body was getting really moist because of the sweat and I was having an almost painful boner but I didn’t care, the mixture of pleasure and pain was exciting. I let her hands go and she grabbed my hair pulling it backwards very hard.

– ¿Are you punishing me, princess? – I asked her with a mischievous smile on my lips.

– Yes, I am – she made me bend forward and when I had her mouth close to my ear, she whispered-. You have been a very naughty boy. Now I want you to fuck me really hard, daddy.

She teared apart the knots that tied her ankles and wrapped her human legs around my waist, she plunged her nails in my shoulders and bit my lips possessed by pure lust. The last word whispered by her sinner mouth was all I needed to make her mine over and over again; I was out of control and so was she. We were reaching the highest point of ecstasy and I was at the edge of cumming when she begged me to cum inside of her.

– So, little girl wants daddy’s seed ¿uh? – This time I plunged my claws in her thighs-. She will have it then…

I let myself go and filled her pussy until the bedsheets got wet, both feeling little spasms running all over our satisfied bodies. I lied down next to her and Emilee hugged me with her trembling arms hiding her face in the hollow of my neck. We were exhausted but happy. Sometime soon, Emilee would lay thousands of eggs and our future children would help us rebuild a new world.

I pulled the bedsheets up and covered us, we had a short night ahead but a long life together and we would start living it at the fullest from that very moment…

The End

Enjoy it darling @sunflowerskissed 💕

[bike42]

March 19-21, 2021

Six weeks have passed, and the weather has turned gentler, so we’re back for a redo to finish off Lincoln County and move into Langlade County.

We decided to step up our game and go for over 11 miles on our first day, meeting at 9am at the Cty Rd B trailhead on the Harrison Hills segment. We piled into two cars to shuttle to where we left off at the Alta Springs segment on a very snowy day in February! By 9:30am we were hiking.

After a few weeks off, our gang is always talkative and eager to go, so we started out loud and fast! We quickly covered what we had left of the Alta Springs trail, pausing briefly at the spring (guidebook says that from the late 1800’s until the 1930’s the spring water was bottled and sold for medicinal purposes).

From there, we entered the Harrison Hills segment. Supposedly, there is a large wolf population here, and we did see some large tracks in the snow and mud. We also saw 4 deer, and it was spectacular to watch them spring up the hill with their tails flashing – seeing them was only possible because of the leaves being off the trees now. They looked much more majestic than those that I see out my window eating from my neighbor’s bird feeder!

The Harrison Hills segment is rated a 5 (on the scale of 1-5) for elevation changes, and contains the highest point on the IAT at Lookout Mountain. It was rated a 4 in its general ruggedness. Honestly, we’re about a third of the way into this adventure and I just started paying attention to the ratings! I guess I’m more of a “it is what it is” kind of gal.

It was about thirty degrees when we started, with abundant sunshine and beautiful blue skies. It warmed up fast to a very comfortable day in the fifties. There was still 6-10” of snow in some areas, and the breeze across the snow cooled things down. Still, Gary and Kent hiked most of the day in T-shirts.

 There were lots of up and down, including many super steep portions. Our pace slowed, but with break time, we still averaged 30 minutes per mile.

In the spots where there was no snow, we were hiking through dried leaves from last fall, and once again we found ourselves occasionally stumbling on rocks and stumps – it was nice to have those covered by snow!

Saturday was the first day of spring, and another beautiful day. There is no direct route from Tomahawk to the trail head, so we spent about an hour dropping a car and shuttling to the start. We were hiking by 8:30am. It was a cool start to the day, in the 30’s. I started in my light down jacket, but after the first mile, layers started coming off. Similar to yesterday, we’d hike through snow covered areas, and then areas with dry leaves and no snow at all!

Until about 11am, we could easily walk over the snow. After that, it was warm enough that you’d crash through the six inches of crust, which made for difficult going!

We finished off the Harrison Hills segments and started the Parrish Hills segment without much fanfare. The terrain was the same. Our guidebook said that the wetlands in this area are so extensive that the trail was designed to traverse the high, narrow ridges, and across beaver dams in the low-lying areas. We were grateful that the low-lying areas were still mostly frozen. After another week of 50-degree days, this will be a mess!

Being Saturday, we saw a few people, more than usual! When we dropped the car at Townline Lake, there was a couple getting ready to start the Highland Lakes segment, and we saw a bike tied to the sign which is generally a sign of someone shuttling themselves with a bike. At the parking lot where we started, there was a young man named Ross who was going to likely hike and camp overnight then hike back.

We crossed Hwy 17, about where the turnoff to Fish Camp is. Jeff and I will head there after hiking tomorrow and visit with my folks and celebrate my Dad’s 81st birthday.

Then we came to the Prairie river, and a “ford” that we’d been talking about and dreading for weeks. Just before we reached the river, we encountered a young man from Green Bay (Chris), and talked with him awhile. It was his bike we’d seen at the trailhead. He started hiking the whole IAT last April, and will likely finish it within a year! He said the river was just ankle deep, so that put us at ease. We had a variety of apparatuses that we employed for the crossing: Tam wore her dive boots, Jeff and Dan used heavy garbage bags on each foot, Lynn and Kent had bought lightweight waders that they’d carried in the packs, and Gary and I changed into river shoes. The water was cold and initially felt refreshing, but the river was wide and my feet were frozen by the time I made it across.

We had a 17-mile day, and at that point we were only 8 miles in - although it was about 12:30p and we had a lot of daylight left. On the other side of the river, the trail was NOT well traveled, so the river ford must deter a lot of hikers! We occasionally had to really search to find the trail and the blazes!

 The rest of the day was a mixture of beautiful trail, and not so great fire and/or logging roads, and traversing logged areas. When the roads weren’t snow covered, they were mostly soft mud, and you had stay on your toes to stay upright and not get mired in the muck. Along the way, we came to some big stacks of logs and took an extended break there – good for stretching out a bit!

Over these two days, we’ve been past several beautiful lakes, most still ice covered, just starting to thaw on the edges. It’s been so special to be in these remote areas of the state and see these beautiful undeveloped lakes. We saw several covered lakes with islands covered in leatherleaf, which had a striking burgundy color.  

We’re not at the northernmost part of the IAT - we hit that early, then dipped south before heading north again. Today in Langlade county, we turned south again (southeast for a few more sections) but soon we’ll head straight south, and closer to home.

Sunday was another glorious day.  We had breakfast, packed up and we were hiking by 9:30am.  Today we hiked most of the Highland Lakes segment.  The first half was fire lane / logging road, the second half was road walk.  The first three miles of the fire road were a wonderful mowed grassy lane – lots of up and down, but no mud.  Of course, someone remarked that they were glad this wasn’t a logging road, and about then, it became a muddy logging road!!

Just last night, we noticed the word “ford” on the map along the West Branch of the Eau Claire River.  The book said its possible to rock hop, unless the water is high. We were optimistic that would be the case, and it was.  However, Lynn, with shorter legs than the rest of the group, tried to use the same stepping stones and she got two wet feet (changed into dry socks and she was ok for the rest of the hike).

We took a sit-down break just before getting into the muddy stretch, and then slogged about three miles through the mud – glad for waterproof boots and gaiters.  From there, we had a 4.2-mile road walk on a paved road.  I took off my muddy footwear, wrapped it in a plastic bag and strapped it to my pack.  I completed the walk in my river shoes with socks, which worked out better than walking 4+ miles in my heavy hiking boots and mud-coated gaiters!  

We walked past “Bogus Swamp State Natural Area” and a sign that described it as an “870-acre swamp of primarily a large muskeg of stunted tamarack and black spruce on a bed of sphagnum moss and sedges.” I let the others go ahead and just stood and enjoyed the organic smell of the bog coming back to life on the second day of Spring!  

Just before we got to the cars, there was a group of about a dozen hikers and two dogs that had climbed the hillside overlooking the road and were having their lunch.  We greeted one another, and later connected on the IAT “Thousand-Miler Wannabe” Facebook page.

We finished up just before 1pm.  It felt great to have hiked nearly 40 miles over these wonderful three days. Jeff and I drove up to Pelican Lake to visit with my folks, while the others went back to the bowling alley in Merrill for a late lunch and to catch the end of the NCAA Basketball game (where the Badgers lost).

[garryspolicememories]

                                      Policing Memories of

           Garry Crawford Circa 1962

                         Part XIII

               The Rookie from Killarney

     As I look back to the year 1972 I remember some of the good times I enjoyed with my fellow members of the OPP. One of those was Morgan Pitfield who was born and raised in Killarney Ontario. I call him a rookie because he had a little less seniority than I. He was stationed in Sudbury when I first met him and became active and proved himself as a good investigator. He eventually was posted as a Constable Detachment Commander back at his home town of Killarney. To most people this would seem as an isolated posting. However; there were not many months that went by that you did not hear of Morgan being involved in some kind of an altercation or investigation.

    When I went through the promotional process from Constable to Corporal usually Morgan was going through the same beside me. On completion, I was promoted and posted to Wawa, Morgan was eventually promoted and posted to Monitowaning on Manitoulin Island. Morgan and I would run into each other either on course or while on a pleasure trip. Morgan had a weird sense of humour and as I was similarly endowed, we frequently played a practical joke on each other. He probably played the best one I have ever had pulled on me. I had bought a new Buick LaSabre in the summer of 1971. In mid April of 1972 I happened to be on a Supervisory Course at the Ontario Police College at Aylmer. Morgan Pitfield of Manitowaning was on the same course with me as was Don MCMillan of Soo PD and Bob Patterson from GHQ Special Services. The four of us would quite regularly gather in my room, have a drink after supper and play cards. The course was pretty straightforward and did not require a whole lot of work after class. Just a short time before Morgan came down he had got into some kind of an altercation with a plate glass door. In the process he had obtained a very serious cut to the palm of his hand requiring many stitches.

      We had just played a round or two of cards, when Morgan announces he had to go to down town Aylmer; to see a doctor; and have the stitches removed  from his hand. Morgan asked me if he could borrow my new Buick to make the trip. I was pretty proud of this car, I had nick named it THE TANK. It was really nice to drive but it was big and did somewhat resemble a tank. I really liked Morgan, so I did not hesitate to loan him the car.  It was about half an hour later there was a noise at the door. There stood Morgan, he had left with a light coloured trench coat on. The coat was now dirty and he had it wrapped around his arm like a bandage and was holding the arm. He had dirt all over his face and a real worried look on his face. He said: Garry can I see you outside, I had a little trouble with your car. I was sitting at the back of the table, I scrambled to my feet and made for the door. Morgan turned and walked back out of the building. I was following him as fast as I could. All I could think was he must have gotten into an accident, he had liquor on his breath, Oh my gosh! He has left the scene of an accident. I was just about hyperventilating at this point. Thinking of all the trouble we would be in. As Morgan got out the door, he dropped on the porch steps, all doubled over and started laughing. He said something like: I really got you this time.

     He finally admitted that he had gone and got the stitches out and had formed this plan after he got back to the college. Just before he came up the steps he rubbed his hand in some dirt, rubbed in over his face and his coat.

     Morgan and I would bump into one another through our careers. He finally retired and moved back to a home in Killarney. I use to try to make a point once a year of going to Killarney for their favourite fish and chips. I would try to have a short visit with Morgan each time. The last time I went I stopped in, but he was in a fight of his life with that dreaded  big C. Morgan has passed now but I think of him often. He was a great police officer and a super person. I regret I never got even for his great joke.

                              FAST EDDY

     Ed Zelionis was one of the Constables at Wawa Detachment. He had been there for what seemed like forever. He had met and married his wife Kathy in Wawa. He was the District Dive Master for the OPP and was very active in the local flying circles. He got nicked named fast Eddy because everything he did was fast. The thing that I found over the years, was that Eddy would act fast but under very stressful situations he could remain calm and think and act. I don’tmean to say that he never was wrong, he made mistakes as did I. I will tell a couple of stories about Fast Eddy.

     I remember Dave Cox in Wawa purchasing a Cessna 170A aircraft. Dave owned and operated an Esso Service station just south of Wawa. He had open heart surgery and for that reason he could not fly his aircraft on his own, but there was nothing stopping him from flying with a qualified pilot in the seat beside him. One day while at the airport Dave came down and wanted a flying lesson. Ed volunteered to be his pilot instructor.

     Dave was at the controls, Ed was in the seat beside him I was in the back seat behind Dave and another pilot was in the seat behind Eddy. Eddy had walked Dave through the walk around and seen that he checked everything properly. Dave did his warm up under Ed’s direction we moved down the runway and Dave took the plane up. The plane was climbing too fast and I overheard Ed say to Dave: Push the nose down. He said it two more times very quickly and I heard Dave say I cannot. Ed said no more, he took the butt of his hand and slammed it against the controls on his side of the plane. The plane quickly dropped its nose and stabilized.

     If we had continued our climb at that steep angle, the aircraft would have stalled and we would have crashed . With the plane acting normally we had a short flight then landed back at Wawa. On examining the elevator at the tail of the aircraft, we were able the see what had happened.

     The runway at that time was not paved. While making our take off run the aircraft had kicked up a sharp stone that wedged itself in the hinge of the elevator. If it had not been for Ed’s quick reaction we definitely would have crashed. When he smacked his hand against the control, it had caused the aluminum at the hinge to bend enough and let the stone fall out.

     There were several times I either witnessed or heard a story of Ed acting similarly. He got in several jackpots during my years there, but he always seemed to make the last minute decisions that counted. I became involved as a search and rescue coordinator after being there a few years. I remember one night I was home and acting Detachment Commander. I received a call around 5PM from the Detachment. The person calling advised that Ed had been scheduled to report for duty at 4PM. He had not arrived and when the dispatcher phoned his residence he learned from Kathy that Ed had left early and was going to make a short flight before going in to work. A check at the airport revealed his plane was not there. I called several of my pilot friends and ask them to meet me at the airport. The temperature that night was about -35oF with a strong wind blowing. We had a quick meeting and decided because of the cold, if there had been a crash and injuries the person would not survive long. Trenton search and rescue would take hours to be in the area, so we decided to make an immediate search of the lakes using our landing lights. We took four planes and using Wawa as a central area divided the area off into four quadrants. Each plane was assigned an area to search and starting from the east side would do a north south grid checking the lakes in their section. In this way we hoped to avoid being near each other. Each plane was to keep others advised by radio as to their positions. I jumped in with Don Davidson in a Cessna 180. We had searched for a little over an hour when we received word that Ed had walked out and was at the Helen Mine Office. On our return to Wawa we passed over a small lake located just north of the mountain that the mine offices are situated on. Ed’s plane could clearly be seen on the lake. Ed was transported to the hospital for a check up then transported to his home. I learned the full story the following day. Ed was dressed for work as I remember when he took his flight. He only had his work boots with pullover galoshes. He did have his Parka I believe. He was flying north of the mine when the carburetor froze up and the motor stopped. He made a dead stick landing on the frozen lake. There was approximately 4 feet of snow on the lake surface. Ed was successful in getting the motor started again, however he could not make a take off run because the snow was too deep. He shut the motor down and took a pair of bear paw snowshoes he had in the airplane and packed down a runway on the lake. This took quite a bit of time. He had taken a couple of garbage bags and pulled then on over his galoshes to keep the snow out of his boots. It was extremely cold, by the time he had packed the runway down, the airplane would not start again.

     Ed elected to walk up to the mine office; which was over a mile away and top of the mountain. I would estimate the mountain at that point is close to a thousand feet high. It was extremely deep snow; because of the drifting on the hillside. Ed no doubt was into deep hyperthermia, he was successful and made it to the offices. They were closed when he arrived but luckily for him, there were two ladies who were employed to clean the offices at night. The two ladies were wise in the ways of the north and quickly stripped Ed of his wet cold clothes and had him sitting in warmed blankets with his feet in a tub of warm water and drinking warm soup. I guess it was some sight. The two ladies were talking to each other and one said: You know I can remember about ten years ago a pilot had the same thing happen where he had his engine stop. He also made it up to the offices hear. A very tired cold Eddy spoke up: Yes that was me!

      The story does not quite end there, as Ed told me when he went home that night. He could not go to sleep. It was just stubborn determined action on his part that he survived. He said that on his way up the mountain there was a dozen times he wanted to just lay down. He knew if he did he would not survive. When he went to bed at home he was exhausted, he would start to dose off and would think that he was just dreaming and wake himself up to travel on. He had trouble distinguishing between reality and a dream. He was still fighting in his mind to survive and make the top of the mountain. I have thought of his experience often over the years and thank the stars that Ed is the stubborn person that he is. We had a lot of good people who served in Wawa I hope to tell you about some other experiences in future submissions.

If you wish to read my previous submissions, they are all stored at the following URL: <garryspolicememories.tumblr.com

[jesusvasser]

The 2019 Honda Passport Is Logically Thrilling

In the same way I thrill over well-balanced drivers’ cars, I enjoy any vehicle that fulfills its mission and simply makes sense. If a car suits its role like a specialized tool, it can be just as gratifying as a pint-sized roadster or rapier-sharp supercar. Despite routine seat time in hot hatches, pony cars, and pricey transcontinental GTs, a prominent vehicular memory involves an pleasant weekend shuttling friends in a Black Forest Green Honda Pilot, one of the more appealing mainstream three-row SUVs.

So when the all-new 2019 Honda Passport debuted last November, it immediately hit the top of my “gotta drive it” list, despite its debut occurring at the same auto show as a new Porsche 911, a Jeep pickup, and a spectacular Audi concept. Yeah, I haven’t quite figured myself out either.

Essentially, Honda’s newest crossover SUV is a shortened two-row derivative of the three-row Pilot. Honda says the Passport was co-developed with the Pilot, but the company promises up and down the latter model is markedly different from the former; sharing Honda’s Global Light Truck Platform and an identical wheelbase doesn’t do that argument any favors, however. Nor does the Passport’s standard 3.5-liter V-6 engine producing the same 280 horsepower and 262 hp as in big brother.

There are some notable differences between the resurrected Passport and Pilot, though. For one, the ZF-sourced 9HP48 nine-speed transmission is standard across the Passport family, remaining optional on the Pilot. And without the need to accommodate a third row of people, the Passport’s rear overhang is reduced by 6.2 inches and it gets steeper rear glass.

Honda bills the Passport as the most rugged and sporty crossover in its lineup, aimed at the classic “weekday professional/weekend warrior” consumer trope. As such, it is meant to split the difference between soft-roaders like Ford Edge and Hyundai Santa Fe and rock-crawlers like the Toyota 4Runner and Jeep Grand Cherokee. It’s even more capable than the Pilot, with 0.8 inch of additional ride height on the all-wheel-drive model, along with a quicker steering ratio, a more responsive brake pedal, and bespoke suspension and anti-roll geometry. These improvements combine with a roughly 100-pound weight reduction to make the Passport noticeably better to drive both on and off the beaten path that the occasionally bobbly Pilot.

Honda’s excellent i-VTM4 torque-vectoring all-wheel drive can send as much as 70 percent of torque to the rear when conditions call for it. i-VTM4 also works with Intelligent Traction Management, which offers four different driving modes to suit the terrain: Normal, Snow, Mud, and Sand. It’s little wonder then that Honda chose the craggy, mud-covered trails of Moab, Utah to launch its most “active lifestyle” vehicle yet. The Passport team has full confidence in the capabilities of its newest midsizer, allowing us free rein on the slick, canyon-riding backroads that were largely sans spotters or speed limits. Each Passport was shod only with the stock factory rubber.

Before I mussed up my test vehicle’s shiny finish with Moab’s Mars-like red dirt, I had a stint on Utah’s absurdly smooth highway tarmac where the Passport proved to offer both pleasantly composed dynamics and a refined ride. Chalk it up to subliminal thoughts from the big “H” grille badge perhaps, but the Passport seems as rock solid as the looming buttes that flank Utah’s Highway 198. The steering electrically boosted and doesn’t offer much feedback, but it is at least nicely weighted, and the brake pedal does indeed feel improved.

The J35Y6 3.5-liter V-6 offers more than enough muscle to scuttle the Passport to highway speeds, but the nine-speed auto still isn’t the sharpest ’box in terms of swapping gears smoothly, although Honda’s refinements have made it passable in this regard. (And frankly, only those who have driven both versions and whose job it is to tell the difference probably will be able to do so.) Honda has a 10-speed automatic in its repertoire that already mates to this engine in the Odyssey, although that gearbox has its own issues in terms of finding the right gear quickly and isn’t offered here. In an effort to shake some of the nine-speed’s reliability problems in early Pilots, Honda reworked it to sometimes start in second gear under light load.

I eventually turned off the glassy pavement and onto a winding 4×4 path that continuously transitioned between slick mud channels and dusty gravel. Toggling between Normal, Mud, and Snow modes with the dedicated console controls is a breeze, but I only deviated from Normal mode when the going got particularly rough.

During a few patches, it did indeed do so. We understandably avoided any trail sections that would challenge a lifted CJ, but still hopped through slow rocky clusters without any problem whatsoever, even when the Passport briefly became a tripod. Though there is no dedicated setting for rock crawling, I was told Mud mode was ideal for these types of scenarios. While active, Honda says response is less aggressive during low-throttle situations but increased during high-throttle ones. Torque is split 50/50, while traction control is reduced to allow for more wheel slip to maintain momentum.

While we crashed through standing mud puddles and fish-tailed through slurries of snow and slime, my drive partner and I casually chatted about, well, whatever. It wasn’t until we arrived at the crest of the spectacular Little Spring Canyon gorge that we realized how composed and uneventful our trip was. Forty-mph sprints down rutted snow-covered paths was no big deal; neither was bouncing over basketball-sized boulders on our way to an outcrop to watch the sunset dip beneath Moab’s rocky horizon. That’s not to say Passport owners should attempt Moab’s Metal Masher or secure a spot in next year’s Baja 1000, but the Honda’s performance is impressive for a regular day-to-day crossover. If I hadn’t traversed them myself in the Passport, there were some sections I wouldn’t have believed such a crossover could have tackled. Perhaps more impressive is how willingly it scrambled over rocky passes with the standard all-season tires; with some proper all-terrains, there are likely few regularly accessible off-road areas you couldn’t conquer.

The cabin is a copy-paste of the Pilot’s, but that certainly isn’t a bad thing. The only trim made available during the drive was the cushy range-topping Elite, but regardless of equipment, the Passport is a versatile and incredibly usable daily runabout. It’s down 6.5 inches of overall length on the Pilot, but that doesn’t mean cargo capacity suffers. Without the rear seats raised, the Passport offers 41.2 cubic feet; the number jumps to 77.9 cubes with them folded. Lift up the rear cargo floor, and you’ll find a removable, washable cubby with 2.5 cubic feet of additional storage.

For those to whom crashing around the Utah wilderness is perhaps a bit too rough and tumble, they’ll be pleased to hear the Passport comes with Honda Sensing as standard. This is the automaker’s suite of safety and driver-assistance systems, and includes collision mitigation braking, lane-keep assist, lane-departure warning, road-departure mitigation, and adaptive cruise control.

In terms of cost, the Passport’s pricing is right on track with its place in the Honda lineup. Expect to pay $33,035 for the entry-level, front-wheel-drive Passport Sport, with $1,900 required to add all-wheel drive to it and the $37,455 EX-L and $40,325 Touring trims. AWD is standard on the range-topping $44,725 Elite. While this might be a smidge more expensive than the Nissan Murano or Ford Edge, Honda is admittedly correct when it points to the Passport’s high level of standard equipment for the segment as justification.

If you like the Pilot but don’t need something quite so big, or if you need a daily livable SUV-type thing that can handle a climb to your Colorado cabin, the 2019 Passport is certainly worth a look. While it may not thrill in the conventional sense, this new Honda delivers the goods by doing its job almost perfectly.

2019 Honda Passport Specifications

ON SALE February 2019 BASE PRICE $33,035 ENGINE 3.5L SOHC 24-valve V-6; 280 hp @ 6,000 rpm, 262 lb-ft @ 4,700 rpm TRANSMISSION 9-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, FWD or AWD hatchback EPA MILEAGE 19–20/24–25 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 190.5 x 78.6 x 72.2 in (AWD) WHEELBASE 110.9 in WEIGHT 4,150 lb (est) 0-60 MPH N/A TOP SPEED N/A

IFTTT

[eddiejpoplar]

The 2019 Honda Passport Is Logically Thrilling

In the same way I thrill over well-balanced drivers’ cars, I enjoy any vehicle that fulfills its mission and simply makes sense. If a car suits its role like a specialized tool, it can be just as gratifying as a pint-sized roadster or rapier-sharp supercar. Despite routine seat time in hot hatches, pony cars, and pricey transcontinental GTs, a prominent vehicular memory involves an pleasant weekend shuttling friends in a Black Forest Green Honda Pilot, one of the more appealing mainstream three-row SUVs.

So when the all-new 2019 Honda Passport debuted last November, it immediately hit the top of my “gotta drive it” list, despite its debut occurring at the same auto show as a new Porsche 911, a Jeep pickup, and a spectacular Audi concept. Yeah, I haven’t quite figured myself out either.

Essentially, Honda’s newest crossover SUV is a shortened two-row derivative of the three-row Pilot. Honda says the Passport was co-developed with the Pilot, but the company promises up and down the latter model is markedly different from the former; sharing Honda’s Global Light Truck Platform and an identical wheelbase doesn’t do that argument any favors, however. Nor does the Passport’s standard 3.5-liter V-6 engine producing the same 280 horsepower and 262 hp as in big brother.

There are some notable differences between the resurrected Passport and Pilot, though. For one, the ZF-sourced 9HP48 nine-speed transmission is standard across the Passport family, remaining optional on the Pilot. And without the need to accommodate a third row of people, the Passport’s rear overhang is reduced by 6.2 inches and it gets steeper rear glass.

Honda bills the Passport as the most rugged and sporty crossover in its lineup, aimed at the classic “weekday professional/weekend warrior” consumer trope. As such, it is meant to split the difference between soft-roaders like Ford Edge and Hyundai Santa Fe and rock-crawlers like the Toyota 4Runner and Jeep Grand Cherokee. It’s even more capable than the Pilot, with 0.8 inch of additional ride height on the all-wheel-drive model, along with a quicker steering ratio, a more responsive brake pedal, and bespoke suspension and anti-roll geometry. These improvements combine with a roughly 100-pound weight reduction to make the Passport noticeably better to drive both on and off the beaten path that the occasionally bobbly Pilot.

Honda’s excellent i-VTM4 torque-vectoring all-wheel drive can send as much as 70 percent of torque to the rear when conditions call for it. i-VTM4 also works with Intelligent Traction Management, which offers four different driving modes to suit the terrain: Normal, Snow, Mud, and Sand. It’s little wonder then that Honda chose the craggy, mud-covered trails of Moab, Utah to launch its most “active lifestyle” vehicle yet. The Passport team has full confidence in the capabilities of its newest midsizer, allowing us free rein on the slick, canyon-riding backroads that were largely sans spotters or speed limits. Each Passport was shod only with the stock factory rubber.

Before I mussed up my test vehicle’s shiny finish with Moab’s Mars-like red dirt, I had a stint on Utah’s absurdly smooth highway tarmac where the Passport proved to offer both pleasantly composed dynamics and a refined ride. Chalk it up to subliminal thoughts from the big “H” grille badge perhaps, but the Passport seems as rock solid as the looming buttes that flank Utah’s Highway 198. The steering electrically boosted and doesn’t offer much feedback, but it is at least nicely weighted, and the brake pedal does indeed feel improved.

The J35Y6 3.5-liter V-6 offers more than enough muscle to scuttle the Passport to highway speeds, but the nine-speed auto still isn’t the sharpest ’box in terms of swapping gears smoothly, although Honda’s refinements have made it passable in this regard. (And frankly, only those who have driven both versions and whose job it is to tell the difference probably will be able to do so.) Honda has a 10-speed automatic in its repertoire that already mates to this engine in the Odyssey, although that gearbox has its own issues in terms of finding the right gear quickly and isn’t offered here. In an effort to shake some of the nine-speed’s reliability problems in early Pilots, Honda reworked it to sometimes start in second gear under light load.

I eventually turned off the glassy pavement and onto a winding 4×4 path that continuously transitioned between slick mud channels and dusty gravel. Toggling between Normal, Mud, and Snow modes with the dedicated console controls is a breeze, but I only deviated from Normal mode when the going got particularly rough.

During a few patches, it did indeed do so. We understandably avoided any trail sections that would challenge a lifted CJ, but still hopped through slow rocky clusters without any problem whatsoever, even when the Passport briefly became a tripod. Though there is no dedicated setting for rock crawling, I was told Mud mode was ideal for these types of scenarios. While active, Honda says response is less aggressive during low-throttle situations but increased during high-throttle ones. Torque is split 50/50, while traction control is reduced to allow for more wheel slip to maintain momentum.

While we crashed through standing mud puddles and fish-tailed through slurries of snow and slime, my drive partner and I casually chatted about, well, whatever. It wasn’t until we arrived at the crest of the spectacular Little Spring Canyon gorge that we realized how composed and uneventful our trip was. Forty-mph sprints down rutted snow-covered paths was no big deal; neither was bouncing over basketball-sized boulders on our way to an outcrop to watch the sunset dip beneath Moab’s rocky horizon. That’s not to say Passport owners should attempt Moab’s Metal Masher or secure a spot in next year’s Baja 1000, but the Honda’s performance is impressive for a regular day-to-day crossover. If I hadn’t traversed them myself in the Passport, there were some sections I wouldn’t have believed such a crossover could have tackled. Perhaps more impressive is how willingly it scrambled over rocky passes with the standard all-season tires; with some proper all-terrains, there are likely few regularly accessible off-road areas you couldn’t conquer.

The cabin is a copy-paste of the Pilot’s, but that certainly isn’t a bad thing. The only trim made available during the drive was the cushy range-topping Elite, but regardless of equipment, the Passport is a versatile and incredibly usable daily runabout. It’s down 6.5 inches of overall length on the Pilot, but that doesn’t mean cargo capacity suffers. Without the rear seats raised, the Passport offers 41.2 cubic feet; the number jumps to 77.9 cubes with them folded. Lift up the rear cargo floor, and you’ll find a removable, washable cubby with 2.5 cubic feet of additional storage.

For those to whom crashing around the Utah wilderness is perhaps a bit too rough and tumble, they’ll be pleased to hear the Passport comes with Honda Sensing as standard. This is the automaker’s suite of safety and driver-assistance systems, and includes collision mitigation braking, lane-keep assist, lane-departure warning, road-departure mitigation, and adaptive cruise control.

In terms of cost, the Passport’s pricing is right on track with its place in the Honda lineup. Expect to pay $33,035 for the entry-level, front-wheel-drive Passport Sport, with $1,900 required to add all-wheel drive to it and the $37,455 EX-L and $40,325 Touring trims. AWD is standard on the range-topping $44,725 Elite. While this might be a smidge more expensive than the Nissan Murano or Ford Edge, Honda is admittedly correct when it points to the Passport’s high level of standard equipment for the segment as justification.

If you like the Pilot but don’t need something quite so big, or if you need a daily livable SUV-type thing that can handle a climb to your Colorado cabin, the 2019 Passport is certainly worth a look. While it may not thrill in the conventional sense, this new Honda delivers the goods by doing its job almost perfectly.

2019 Honda Passport Specifications

ON SALE February 2019 BASE PRICE $33,035 ENGINE 3.5L SOHC 24-valve V-6; 280 hp @ 6,000 rpm, 262 lb-ft @ 4,700 rpm TRANSMISSION 9-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, FWD or AWD hatchback EPA MILEAGE 19–20/24–25 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 190.5 x 78.6 x 72.2 in (AWD) WHEELBASE 110.9 in WEIGHT 4,150 lb (est) 0-60 MPH N/A TOP SPEED N/A

IFTTT

[jonathanbelloblog]

The 2019 Honda Passport Is Logically Thrilling

In the same way I thrill over well-balanced drivers’ cars, I enjoy any vehicle that fulfills its mission and simply makes sense. If a car suits its role like a specialized tool, it can be just as gratifying as a pint-sized roadster or rapier-sharp supercar. Despite routine seat time in hot hatches, pony cars, and pricey transcontinental GTs, a prominent vehicular memory involves an pleasant weekend shuttling friends in a Black Forest Green Honda Pilot, one of the more appealing mainstream three-row SUVs.

So when the all-new 2019 Honda Passport debuted last November, it immediately hit the top of my “gotta drive it” list, despite its debut occurring at the same auto show as a new Porsche 911, a Jeep pickup, and a spectacular Audi concept. Yeah, I haven’t quite figured myself out either.

Essentially, Honda’s newest crossover SUV is a shortened two-row derivative of the three-row Pilot. Honda says the Passport was co-developed with the Pilot, but the company promises up and down the latter model is markedly different from the former; sharing Honda’s Global Light Truck Platform and an identical wheelbase doesn’t do that argument any favors, however. Nor does the Passport’s standard 3.5-liter V-6 engine producing the same 280 horsepower and 262 hp as in big brother.

There are some notable differences between the resurrected Passport and Pilot, though. For one, the ZF-sourced 9HP48 nine-speed transmission is standard across the Passport family, remaining optional on the Pilot. And without the need to accommodate a third row of people, the Passport’s rear overhang is reduced by 6.2 inches and it gets steeper rear glass.

Honda bills the Passport as the most rugged and sporty crossover in its lineup, aimed at the classic “weekday professional/weekend warrior” consumer trope. As such, it is meant to split the difference between soft-roaders like Ford Edge and Hyundai Santa Fe and rock-crawlers like the Toyota 4Runner and Jeep Grand Cherokee. It’s even more capable than the Pilot, with 0.8 inch of additional ride height on the all-wheel-drive model, along with a quicker steering ratio, a more responsive brake pedal, and bespoke suspension and anti-roll geometry. These improvements combine with a roughly 100-pound weight reduction to make the Passport noticeably better to drive both on and off the beaten path that the occasionally bobbly Pilot.

Honda’s excellent i-VTM4 torque-vectoring all-wheel drive can send as much as 70 percent of torque to the rear when conditions call for it. i-VTM4 also works with Intelligent Traction Management, which offers four different driving modes to suit the terrain: Normal, Snow, Mud, and Sand. It’s little wonder then that Honda chose the craggy, mud-covered trails of Moab, Utah to launch its most “active lifestyle” vehicle yet. The Passport team has full confidence in the capabilities of its newest midsizer, allowing us free rein on the slick, canyon-riding backroads that were largely sans spotters or speed limits. Each Passport was shod only with the stock factory rubber.

Before I mussed up my test vehicle’s shiny finish with Moab’s Mars-like red dirt, I had a stint on Utah’s absurdly smooth highway tarmac where the Passport proved to offer both pleasantly composed dynamics and a refined ride. Chalk it up to subliminal thoughts from the big “H” grille badge perhaps, but the Passport seems as rock solid as the looming buttes that flank Utah’s Highway 198. The steering electrically boosted and doesn’t offer much feedback, but it is at least nicely weighted, and the brake pedal does indeed feel improved.

The J35Y6 3.5-liter V-6 offers more than enough muscle to scuttle the Passport to highway speeds, but the nine-speed auto still isn’t the sharpest ’box in terms of swapping gears smoothly, although Honda’s refinements have made it passable in this regard. (And frankly, only those who have driven both versions and whose job it is to tell the difference probably will be able to do so.) Honda has a 10-speed automatic in its repertoire that already mates to this engine in the Odyssey, although that gearbox has its own issues in terms of finding the right gear quickly and isn’t offered here. In an effort to shake some of the nine-speed’s reliability problems in early Pilots, Honda reworked it to sometimes start in second gear under light load.

I eventually turned off the glassy pavement and onto a winding 4×4 path that continuously transitioned between slick mud channels and dusty gravel. Toggling between Normal, Mud, and Snow modes with the dedicated console controls is a breeze, but I only deviated from Normal mode when the going got particularly rough.

During a few patches, it did indeed do so. We understandably avoided any trail sections that would challenge a lifted CJ, but still hopped through slow rocky clusters without any problem whatsoever, even when the Passport briefly became a tripod. Though there is no dedicated setting for rock crawling, I was told Mud mode was ideal for these types of scenarios. While active, Honda says response is less aggressive during low-throttle situations but increased during high-throttle ones. Torque is split 50/50, while traction control is reduced to allow for more wheel slip to maintain momentum.

While we crashed through standing mud puddles and fish-tailed through slurries of snow and slime, my drive partner and I casually chatted about, well, whatever. It wasn’t until we arrived at the crest of the spectacular Little Spring Canyon gorge that we realized how composed and uneventful our trip was. Forty-mph sprints down rutted snow-covered paths was no big deal; neither was bouncing over basketball-sized boulders on our way to an outcrop to watch the sunset dip beneath Moab’s rocky horizon. That’s not to say Passport owners should attempt Moab’s Metal Masher or secure a spot in next year’s Baja 1000, but the Honda’s performance is impressive for a regular day-to-day crossover. If I hadn’t traversed them myself in the Passport, there were some sections I wouldn’t have believed such a crossover could have tackled. Perhaps more impressive is how willingly it scrambled over rocky passes with the standard all-season tires; with some proper all-terrains, there are likely few regularly accessible off-road areas you couldn’t conquer.

The cabin is a copy-paste of the Pilot’s, but that certainly isn’t a bad thing. The only trim made available during the drive was the cushy range-topping Elite, but regardless of equipment, the Passport is a versatile and incredibly usable daily runabout. It’s down 6.5 inches of overall length on the Pilot, but that doesn’t mean cargo capacity suffers. Without the rear seats raised, the Passport offers 41.2 cubic feet; the number jumps to 77.9 cubes with them folded. Lift up the rear cargo floor, and you’ll find a removable, washable cubby with 2.5 cubic feet of additional storage.

For those to whom crashing around the Utah wilderness is perhaps a bit too rough and tumble, they’ll be pleased to hear the Passport comes with Honda Sensing as standard. This is the automaker’s suite of safety and driver-assistance systems, and includes collision mitigation braking, lane-keep assist, lane-departure warning, road-departure mitigation, and adaptive cruise control.

In terms of cost, the Passport’s pricing is right on track with its place in the Honda lineup. Expect to pay $33,035 for the entry-level, front-wheel-drive Passport Sport, with $1,900 required to add all-wheel drive to it and the $37,455 EX-L and $40,325 Touring trims. AWD is standard on the range-topping $44,725 Elite. While this might be a smidge more expensive than the Nissan Murano or Ford Edge, Honda is admittedly correct when it points to the Passport’s high level of standard equipment for the segment as justification.

If you like the Pilot but don’t need something quite so big, or if you need a daily livable SUV-type thing that can handle a climb to your Colorado cabin, the 2019 Passport is certainly worth a look. While it may not thrill in the conventional sense, this new Honda delivers the goods by doing its job almost perfectly.

2019 Honda Passport Specifications

ON SALE February 2019 BASE PRICE $33,035 ENGINE 3.5L SOHC 24-valve V-6; 280 hp @ 6,000 rpm, 262 lb-ft @ 4,700 rpm TRANSMISSION 9-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, FWD or AWD hatchback EPA MILEAGE 19–20/24–25 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 190.5 x 78.6 x 72.2 in (AWD) WHEELBASE 110.9 in WEIGHT 4,150 lb (est) 0-60 MPH N/A TOP SPEED N/A

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Image of orangutan wins National Geographic photography Competition

A photograph of an orangutan crossing a river in   Indonesia’s Tanjung Puting National Park will be your very best picture from National Geographic’s 2017 Nature Photographer of the Year competition.

The photograph, titled “Face to face in a river in Borneo,” was seized by Jayaprakash Joghee Bojan of Singapore. He also won $10,000, along with his picture will be published in National Geographic magazine also featured on the @NatGeo Instagram account.

After waiting patiently at the Sekoyner River while he was 5 ft deep in water, Bojan took the winning picture. He said: “While searching for wild orangutans … we observed this remarkable sight of the huge male crossing a river regardless of the fact there were crocodiles in the river. Their habitat has been depleted by rapid palm oil cultivation and when pushed to the edge these animals have learnt to adapt to the changing landscape. This is evidence, thinking about orangutans hate water rather than venture into a river”

“Sometimes you simply go blind when things like this occur,” Bojan explained.   “You are so trapped. You don’t know what is happening. You do not feel the pain, you do not feel the mosquito bites, so you do not feel the cold, because your mind is totally lost in what is happening before you”

Judges selected winners to get four different categories: aerials wildlife, landscapes and submerged. First-place winners at each one of the groups received $2,500.

Wildlife

First place/grand decoration:

While searching for wild orang-utans at Tanjung placing Indonesia, park, we observed this sight of this male. Their habitat has been emptied by rapid palm oil cultivation and when pushed This is evidence considering orang-utans hate water rather than venture. I got into the 5 ft deep river to find this view.

Jayaprakash Joghee Bojan National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

A male orangutan peers from behind a tree whilst. Photo by Jayaprakash Joghee Bojan, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Second location:

Pink flamingos feeding their young in a area Mexic, in RÌo Lagartos.

Alejandro Prieto National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

An adult Caribbean pink flamingo feeds a chick in Yucatán, Mexico. Both parents alternate feeding girls, at first with a baby food called crop milk, and then with regurgitated meals. Photo by Alejandro Prieto, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Third location:

In winter when all oceans freeze, water creatures gather around the pockets in the lake. Some of them would catch fish, even while the rest are determined to steal fish from others or perhaps capture water birds. White-tailed Eagles are such birds, constantly searching for a chance to steal, and in the meantime that they figure out how to confront and struggle with everybody, even their conspecifics.

Bence Mate, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

As a white-tailed eagle seems on in Hungary two grey herons spar. Photo by Bence Mate, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Honorable mention:

A macaque. The Jigokudani snow fighter park has become a major tourist hot spot, bringing people from throughout the world expecting to get a glimpse of the remarkable creatures huddled together in hot springs. But because of the warmer weather during this time, the macaques were found lazing about on some rocks instead of spending their time.

Lance McMillan, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

A Japanese macaque indulges in certain time around the shores of a renowned hot springs. Photo  by Lance McMillan, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

People’s choice:

A fantastic gray owl hunting rabbits in a area at New Hampshire. This bird was a rare visitor to the area and was worth the 7 1/2 hour push to view it. The owl called or was not baited and this picture is through a natural search. Baiting is now a hot topic lately and it is very unfortunate that people do it for the sake of a photograph. With these owls specifically if you are patient enough you will see them search. They aren’t shy nor really intimidated.

Harry Collins National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

A fantastic gray owl swoops to kill at a New Hampshire area. Photo  by Harry Collins, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Aerials

First place:

A rock pool at sydney, Australia in high wave. Waves crash over the edge. There is A very swimmer undeterred.

Todd Kennedy National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Back in Sydney, Australia, the Pacific Ocean at high wave breaks within a natural rock pool expanded in the 1930s. Avoiding the crowds in the city’s various beaches, a local swims laps. Photo  by Todd Kennedy, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Second location:

An aerial shot of Metasequoia trees.

Takahiro Bessho National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Snow-covered metasequoia trees, also called sunrise redwoods, interlace over a road in Takashima, Japan. Photo  by Takahiro Bessho, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Third location:

Molten Earth matches the sea on the flanks of Kilauea volcano on the Big Island of Hawai’i. A view not seen until the dawn of drones, this interaction involving water, lava, and time contributes to the buildup of an island series.

Greg C., 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

On the flanks of Kilauea Volcano, Hawaii, the world’s sole lava sea entry sheds molten rock into the Pacific Ocean. After erupting in ancient 2016, the lava flow took about two months to make it to the sea, 6  kilometers away. Photo  by Greg C., 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Honorable mention:

Since I was en route to get a scientific survey, I saw that this majestic cedar which was washed out by a glacial river into the sea. I requested the pilot to get nearer and tilt the helicopter so that I could have a photograph looking directly down. A flock of birds passed by , as we flew over. For me, it represents the life cycle perpetuating beautifully along with the majestic remaining after the tree has expired.

Agathe Bernard, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Migratory gulls take flight from a bamboo tree being washed ashore by a glacial river in British Columbia, Canada. Photograph by Agathe Bernard, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

People’s choice:

Utah’s canyons are rather impressive as your walking throughout the bottom. But they are EXTRAORDINARY when viewed from above. On this picture, you can see the many twists and turns that this canyon has cut through the sandstone. The base of the sea is full or riparian vegetation and can be a different world from which over it.

David Swindler, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Green vegetation blossoms in riparian, zone of a canyon in Utah, or the river’s edge. Photograph by David Swindler, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Landscapes

First place:

That is the nature in its raw form stone from the stomach of our planet spilled over the side of the sea shores, before plummeting through a lava tube under the ocean, exposed to the atmosphere for a brief moment. You will find hissing explosions and noises as it struck the water. Cooler parts moved just like candle wax and also a section of lava collapsed along with the molten lava fanned out. At a distance you might feel the warmth. This is how the Hawaiian islands are made

Karim Iliya, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Before indulged in Kalapana, Hawaii, a fragment of a lava tube broke away, prior to returning to a flow, leaving fan into a fiery spray for less than half an hour with the molten rock. Photo  by Karim Iliya, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Second location:

Various kinds of metallic minerals create the canyon so splendid.

Yuhan Liao, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Sunlight glances nutrient strata of distinct colors China, in Dushanzi Grand Canyon off. Photo  by Yuhan Liao, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Third location:

Have attempted and failed a lot of times hoping to get lightning after dark in the Grand Canyon. Years of driving up there to just come home empty handed. It is a 3.5 hour trip one way to sit at a place and wait and wait and wait rather than just hope to get a storm to pop-up, but for it to stand out within the Canyon and also not to rain. So many things need to come together to exercise. And on this night, it did.

Mike Olbinski National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Lightning is unleashed by A summertime thunderstorm around the Grand Canyon’s South Rim. Photo by Mike Olbinski Photography, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Honorable mention:

Dead trees at a blossom, from an enchanting forest.

Gheorghe Popa, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Morning fog blurs the deceased trees of Romania’s Lake Cuejdel, also a reservoir. Photo by Gheorghe Popa, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

People’s choice:

Kallur along with island lighthouse Faroe Islands, in hot light.

Wojciech Kruczynski, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Sunset illuminates a lighthouse and rainbow at the Faroe Islands. Photo  by Wojciech Kruczyński, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Underwater

First place:

Tube dwelling anemone when stimulated with light, which fluoresces.

Jim Obester National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Blue-filtered strobe lights excite fluorescent pigments in the apparent tentacles of a tube-dwelling anemone at Hood Canal, Wash.. Photo  by Jim Obester, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Second location:

A shy species, even a Caribbean reef shark explores a camera at Cuba’s Gardens of the Queen marine location.

Shane Gross, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

A shy species, even a Caribbean reef shark explores a camera at Cuba’s Gardens of the Queen location. Photo  by Shane Gross, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Third location:

An fish swims at nighttime at the gulf stream present far offshore.

Michael O’Neill, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Buoyed by the Gulf Stream, a flying fish arcs throughout the night-dark water 5   kilometers off Palm Beach, Fla.. Photo  by Michael Patrick O’Neill, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Honorable mention:

Shot this picture of tarpon hunting on a college of scad, in Bonaire does not show the true predator away from the shot. The actual predator would be the anglers that were permitted to internet this bait ball with the park’s consent. The practices will need to be revised by the park also that there should be more education for sailors or moments in the sea such as this won’t be here in a different generation.

Jennifer ONeil National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Preparing to attack, tarpon cut off the coast of Bonaire in the Caribbean Sea. Photo  by Jennifer O’Neil, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

People’s choice:

A Pacific guy of war navigates close to the beach on a summers morning breeze. Thousands of those nautical sailors end up washed up on the east coast of australia . They’re my favorite colour of blue.

Matthew Smith National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

A Portuguese man-of-war nears the beach on a summer morning. Photo by Matthew Smith, 2017 National Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year

Copyright 2017 USATODAY.com

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