#how to keep squirrels out of oak trees

[skedaddledh]

Coquitlam Wildlife Removal: Why Are Squirrels Attracted to Oak Trees

Oak trees provide a number of purposes, including housing squirrels. But why are squirrels so attracted to oak trees? To discover what draws squirrels to oak trees and how Skedaddle can help you protect your trees from squirrel infestations, click the link here.

[xayasmrxsoftlyx]

Imagine...

Imagine you recently moved to the outskirts of a forest. The nature is beautiful and you do your part to keep it that way. You plant pollinator friendly flowers, rabbit friendly herbs, deer friendly bushes, you put out bird feeders, hummingbird feeders, squirrel feeders (though honestly, it's just extra bird feeders with less specific seeds since you noticed the birds didn't always eat the variety equally). Hell, you even changed out your lawn from traditional grass to clover and native wild flowers to use less water. You've been putting in a lot of effort to keep things nice for nature-- it's certainly been noticed, too.

In fact, you've no idea of the amount of eyes watching your beauty preserve nature's beauty- and to them you are nature's finest beauty. Looking at your plush body care for, tend to, and love the very things that feed their lives' essence; it's a sight that cannot be beat. At first, it was a competition amongst the forest. Who was yours? Who you belonged to? Now, now they understand that just like you work so hard to aid all of them, they can all share, love, tend to, and care for you, as well.

Imagine the first you meet, unbeknownst to you, is planned- it's all planned. You're sitting outside on a blanket, book in hand, just enjoying some rare free time when you hear a loud buzzing. It sounds as if a humming bird were flying right beside your ear. Yet, when you look up, it's certainly not that far from the truth despite not being completely correct in concept.

He's shorter than you, but not by much, barely hovering a foot off the ground. He hides half his body behind your oak tree- the one with all your feeders on it. He's got brilliant colors and jerks almost completely behind the tree when your eyes meet. (He's supposed to be speaking to you but when his eyes met your own shining gaze, he couldn't help but grow shy.) Your sweet, comforting scent has wafted in the air, stirred up in part by his own rapidly fluttering wings. He's buzzing with anxiety and adrenaline, the need to prove and show you his skills battling with his fear of your rejection. Now that he's gotten so close to those plump cheeks, he needs to kiss. Now that he's seen how soft and warm you are he needs to get closer; he needs to feel how soft and plush you are as he clings to your chubby form from his own anxiety.

Imagine you softly call out to him, voice sounding like both the sweetest lullaby to soothe his racing heart and mind and also just like home- like the sound he'd come come to with a nest full of little hatchlings and your warmth shared. It's that thought that spurs him into action, faster than you could reasonably expect. After all, the speed he can achieve gets to nearly the same as a traditional hummingbird.

He's higher in the air than you'd ever think he'd go, he shoots down, nearly towards you- no, definitely towards you, nearly at you the speed of which creates a loud chirp and you hear the sweet melody of whistles erupt from him as he's closer to you. As he hovers before you, dance still pumping adrenaline through him, he's more than proud of the awed expression you've been unable to shake. When you close your book and set it down to completely give him your full attention, he preens at your acceptance. You may not fully understand your own consent to his courtship, but the primal, feral instinct within him is more than satisfied with your open attraction and silent acceptance of him into your space- your life. He lingers by you for a moment and when he doesn't hide or fly away from you, it indicates he's comfortable enough with you. You smile and begin to speak.

Imagine you still keep your voice soft, welcoming for him. It's so, so sweet of you to care so much for him already- such a precious, soft, sweet mate you are already without hardly trying. You introduce yourself to him- you give him your name! As you do so, he flits around you with little twirls and swoops in his own excitement. Instinctually, you hold your hand out to shake. He grabs it instantaneously within his own soft, warm grasp. He holds your hand, enjoying how his hands are still just a smidge bigger than your own little, pudgy ones; even if it's barely noticeable to you, he can tell. You give the shared grasp a shake but he doesn't release you, instead he uses it to hover closer to you. (He's tempted to swoop into your outreached arm and cuddle into your side, he's strongly resisting that temptation. The mantra in his head is "not now, don't do it, not now...")

You smell like the flowers you plant, the earthiness of fresh watered soil, and there's a warmth beneath it all he can't place. It's enchanting, nearly hypnotizing. (Fuck, the other's are going to drool over your scent later when they get closer- maybe even over him if it's strong enough lingering on him after he meets you.) When he finally releases, he gives you his own name breathlessly with a giant blush upon his cheeks. His feathers puff up around him in his embarrassment before he dashes off towards the forest. As he does so, he pauses to look back at you every few yards. Instead of following you like he's silently urging and beckoning you to do, you smile, little puffy cheeks rounding adorably as you tell him "see you soon!" (fuck- his heart is going as fast as his wings and that cannot be healthy)

Imagine you start seeing Calypte more often. In fact, you start meeting him in your garden at least twice a week. After your first week, you begin to bring him fruit to eat, since you didn't quite think he drank from the hummingbird feeder like his look alike. The first time he ate the orange so ravenously for you that you never stopped. He knows that in nature, if he were true to his counterpart, he wouldn't be building the nest- you would. He knows in nature his counterparts instinct wouldn't be to linger after copulation, but he supposes that side of him is entirely the human part.

The need to preen and nest for you, the need to stay by your side, the need for you attention, for your care, for your love. That is surely, entirely his humanity. After all, hybrids are different from their animal inspiration. They're an interesting amalgamation of all the best parts of both. That's why they were created, why they were designed, right? Before the humanity and ethics caught up to it all, anyway. His parents acted very human after all, it just depended on genetics. However you.... you brought the humanity out of him. You bring the humanity out of him. It thrills him, makes him feel alive, and he can not get enough of it- of you.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part fourteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Blue holds her arm out, stopping you from taking another step.

"Sh. I see one."

Up ahead, a squirrel stills on a tree, beady eyes unblinking. In a matter of seconds, Blue throws her knife and pins it to the bark through the stomach. 

"Nice," you comment. "You got it on the first try this time."

In your hand is the other squirrel she killed for you. Ghost started working on your bow yesterday. He didn't say anything to you about it, but you spotted him sitting on the porch chiseling away at a hunk of oak. Until he's finished, you've struck another deal: helping Blue skin the rabbits in exchange for her killing squirrels with you. She's better at killing them with a knife than you are. 

"This is good practice for me." She wriggles the knife out and hands you the kill. "Poor guy didn't see it coming."

"Probably better that way."

She slips the knife back to her ankle. "Do you need more? Or is two enough."

"Two is enough. I saw these flowers by the trench that I think are edible."

"You can eat flowers?" She makes a face. The two of you begin heading back toward the camp. You didn't go off too far with her. Ghost said she wasn't allowed to go past the pond without him. Truthfully, you were surprised he let her go with you at all. 

"Yeah. Pink Sorrel. They taste lemony, and I'll add the leaves, too. Like a salad."

"Yum," she says sarcastically. "Did Paul teach you that?"

You nod. "He knew a lot about plants."

"Are you sure he didn't like you?" 

"Blue," you almost groan. "You've asked me this twice now."

"Well, you seemed to have spent a lot of time with him, and he taught you a lot of things."

"You can spend time with someone and learn things from them without... liking them."

"I wouldn't know," she shrugs, waving her hand around. "There are no boys here for me to spend time with besides Ghost." 

"Paul didn't like me in that way," you reaffirm. "Besides, he's dead."

There is a lingering pause as a cloud rolls over the sun, turning everything dim before it passes. The weather these past few days has been fluctuating like true spring. Cold showers in the morning, intense sunlight by noon, and clouds that come and go. The cabbages Blue planted have sprouted fat, juicy leaves. You've mentally scolded yourself for not including seeds in your deal with Ghost. 

"So when are you and Ghost going to start training or whatever?" Blue speaks up, switching subjects.

"Training?" you repeat.

"He told me you wanted to learn some things." She glances at you. "Look, let me just warn you, he can be a real hard ass. One time, he made me climb up and down a tree twenty times without stopping. And another time, he made me throw knives over and over until I hit the exact same spot on the tree again."

Right. Somehow, that last request you made of him has slipped your mind. You did ask him to teach you how to better defend yourself against other people.

It's been over a week now, and the two of you still haven't talked much except for the necessities. Honestly, it's probably best that way. Maintaining a clinical relationship with him should keep the peace and maybe even earn more of his trust. You're growing confident that he doesn't see you as much of a threat anymore. Last night, you ran into him again after waking up from another dream, and all he did was walk past you, step outside for a cigarette, and then go back to his room. He didn't seem suspicious of you being up at all.

That said, the reminder of the 'training' he's supposed to give you makes your teeth snag onto your lip. 

When you don't respond, Blue adds, "What exactly do you want him to show you? I hate to say it, but I don't think he'll give you one of his guns."

"No," you shake your head. "I don't want that. It's not Greys that I'm as worried about. As long I've got distance, I can use my bow for them. It's more about... other people. They get close. Too close."

"Well, you can always bite their nose off," she gives a bump to your shoulder.

You cringe. "I'd rather not have to do that again."

She pauses, looking at her boots. "What did it taste like?"

"Fucking awful. Probably the grossest thing I've ever experienced."

She looks up. "If you were a Grey, you would've loved it."

"Well, I'm human still, and I much prefer these guys." You wag the dead squirrels in front of her face and she laughs. If you could replace all her tears with that sound, you would.

"You still haven't answered my question," Blue tilts her head. "When are you getting started? Because I have some training in mind for you, too."

You arch a brow but don't question it. "Um. I don't know. Ghost hasn't said anything to me about it, and he's busy working on my bow right now."

"Why don't you ask him, then?" She shoots you a knowing smirk. "Are you scared of him, Twix?"

"No," you say all too quickly. "No... I'm not. I just don't know how to talk to him. He's not exactly approachable."

"Just do what I do. I say whatever I want to him. Except when he's pissed, then—" she freezes for a moment and lays a hand on your shoulder. "—it's better to shut up and listen. Believe me."

You speak under your breath. "Noted."

It's another dream that night which pushes you to actually confront him. The loud voices sharpen into images— a bloodied knife at your throat, a toothy smile, carved body parts. You wake up and grab your neck, expecting to feel severed tissue. Instead, you feel damp skin. Something bubbles up your throat and fills your mouth. Squirrel and Pink Sorrel. The taste makes you shudder, but you swallow your dinner back down. The dark, quiet living room mocks you. 

The morning after that, you find him on the porch. It's not raining, but the air pricks the back of your neck with dew. You've already bathed and woven your hair into braids, which is growing longer by the day and bordering on an inconvenience.

Ghost tilts his head the second a wood plank creaks beneath your footsteps, tearing his gaze away from the assortment of carving knives in his lap. You've caught him in the moment before he's started to work on your bow again.

He is wearing that balaclava that makes him look more man than ghost, along with a black hoodie and faded, brown jacket. The whites of his eyes are visible, slowly sliding up to yours. You fully realize he isn't going to greet you with a hello, and standing there in an uncomfortable silence doesn't interest you, so you bite the bullet.

"I want to start that other thing I asked you for."

He seems to know what you're referring to. "Right now?"

Your nails dig into your palms, realizing that you should've waited for a time when he wasn't preoccupied. Though, he's hardly ever not doing something. 

Blue was right. Something about him has you subconciously on the defensive; it's something you want to get over if this living arrangement is going to be long-term, which you'd prefer it to be. It was about two months ago now that he nearly killed you, and since then, he has kept you alive ten times over. Maybe you should focus on that: on the hand that pulled you up, on the warm jacket over your shoulders, on the bow he is making.

"Whenever you have the chance. But— now, if we could."

Ghost lowers his eyebrows and seems to think it over. "Now is fine. Your bow will have to wait a bit, then."

"That's okay," you speak as you exhale. "I don't mind."

It's at that moment Blue pushes through the front door and you almost startle. "Can I come with you guys?"

Ghost folds his knives up and responds in a firm tone. "No. You have work to finish up."

"But my leg is hurting," she retorts lightly. "I'd rather sit and watch you guys."

"Your leg was just fine yesterday when you were hunting and climbing trees." 

"That was yesterday. Today, it hurts." She bites her lip and shrugs.

"How convinient." He gives her a dry look.

"So is that a yes?"

"It's a no."

With a groan, she goes back inside. 

Ghost escorts you out of the gate and towards a small clearing nestled within a circle of trees. As you follow behind him, you find your eyes straying to his broad back and for a moment, you wonder if maybe you've changed your mind— or maybe you want to tell him to wait until Blue can come join.

But you remind yourself that survival is a proactive game; you can't laze around and keep getting sick from the memories. You need to shut them away into that box you've made, and in the meantime, get stronger.

"Here is good," he says, stopping.

It's been awhile since you've done anything like this. There were plenty of times Paul 'trained' you. He used to make you shoot at the trees until your back muscles were practically immobile. As an ex forest ranger, he wasn't much of a fighter. His advice was always this: "Don't let anyone or anything get close enough to where you have to fight them."

Clearly, his advice can only go so far.

In the five years you were at your old camp, you managed to keeps things at a distance for the most part. A few Greys had snuck up on you, resulting in thrashing and wrestling around to avoid bites. But there were only one or two times that you had to engage in close combat with a human. The few other survivors you encountered were usually punished by Paul's rifle or your arrows. 

You shed your jacket and hang it on a branch, left in just Ghost's shirt and your jeans. "So, um, what should I start with? Running laps?"

"You want to learn how to defend yourself, not run a marathon."

"Right." You nod and rub at the gooseflesh that sprouts on your arm. You turn to face him. "I was joking."

Ghost ignores your comment with a pensive expression, staring you down across the short distance. You put on a blank face and meet his eyes expectantly. 

The silence stretches for a second longer than what would be deemed normal. Is this just how he is, then? Or is it only with you? You're about to say something to put an end to it when he suddenly crosses his arms over his chest.

"You were a nurse." It should come out like a question, but it's more of a statement. His voice nearly makes you jump. 

You can't help it; you look away. "Um. I... wasn't, actually."

Why is he bringing this up? Never once has he asked anything about you. In fact, you sometimes toy with the thought that he might have forgotten your real name by now.

"Figured," he says.

You frown, flashing him a confused look. "What? Why?"

"You're a bit too young to have been a nurse five years ago."

You think back to the moment he found you with an inward wince. "So you knew I wasn't telling the truth?"

"It didn't matter if you were or not."

That's right. I don't need a nurse, he said. 

"It wasn't a total lie," you clarify, dropping your arms at your sides. "I was in nursing school."

He rubs his chin. "You should understand the body, then— its weak points."

Your fingers flex before they gesture to your face. "The nose and eyes are obvious ones. But... but if someone grabs me from behind like," you forcefully inhale, "Like you did, then I won't be able to reach them."

He gives a short nod, then looms closer. You will your boots to remain planted in the damp soil despite the overwhelming proximity and intimidating mass of him. You blink up as he points a gloved finger to the hinge of his jaw. "There's this, too. Pretty easy to dislocate." His fingers move to side of his corded neck. "And here. The throat is weak and vital."

"I still wouldn't be able to reach those," you point out.

"You have more than just your arms, Twix."

"So my head, then?"

"That's one way." He moves a step back and you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Why don't you show me what you'd do— give it a try."

The suggestion should be expected given what you're asking of him— of course he would have to touch you at somepoint. Yet, it makes you stiffen. He motions his hand for you to turn around and with great hesitance, you comply, until you hear the crunch of twigs beneath his boots as he closes in behind you. You stare straight ahead at a tree and focus on breathing. 

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

His flat tone makes your eyes twitch in irritation and you are glad he can't see them. "Yeah. I know."

Just as he did all that time ago, his burly arms wrap around you, though not as firm and threatening. Your feet don't hang and you're not skin and bones this time, but once again, you are imprisoned against a hard chest. Your lungs pick up their pace and an artery in your neck jolts. 

"Just show me what you'd do," he says slowly, warm breath fanning across the top of your hair. "Don't worry about hurting me."

You wriggle against him, but even without issuing all his strength, it's useless. You stomp on his foot, figuring that toes are pretty vulnerable, but his thick boot hurts your sole more than you could possibly have hurt him. Your eyes begin to sting. You suddenly find yourself panting in frustration. Before you can even think about trying to use your head, full-blown panic unfurls in your chest. 

"Let go," you say under your breath. He must not hear you. Your voice turns to a snarled hiss. "Fucking let go of me."

His hold immediately loosens and you stagger forward, creating much-needed distance. Heavy breaths scratch up your throat. You wipe the back of your hand over your forehead and close your eyes for a moment, seeing blood and burnt skin against the backs of your lids. When you reopen them, Ghost is staring at you. The humiliation sets in as a red flush on your cheeks.

"Sorry," you shake your head and stare up at the clouded sky. "Just— maybe we should go back." Your arms hug around your stomach to keep its contents contained. "We can start this another day."

Throwing up in front of him again is low on the list of things you'd enjoy doing. He's already seen you near-death— no need to add a mental breakdown to your repertoire. Your lips press tightly together as you head to the tree for your jacket, but his gruff voice pauses your fingers against the embroidered flag on its sleeve.

"This isn't going to work if you don't tell me what is bothering you."

Your hand drops. "What?"

"What happened when you went to get the ammo, Twix?" he presses.

"I..." 

To tell him would be to pry open that box you've made and let him peek inside. He has never even asked a single question about you until today, so you press onto the lid, tight, and turn to face him with pleading eyes. "I don't want to talk about it with you, Ghost. Don't make me."

In response, he lifts up his hands in resignation. "Alright." He lowers them. "Why don't you at least tell me how you handled it?"

"Why?"

He taps a finger to his masked temple. "So I can understand how you think. How you keep surviving all this shit."

The wave of nausea settles as you form your response. "I... I burned him. He cleaned the bite on my arm with some alcohol. I distracted him a little and then smashed the bottle on his head. I had my lighter, so I used it."

Slowly, he nods, as if your words are not all that surprising to him. "And how about at the base when I left you?"

"There was that Grey," you remind him. "I bit the guy's nose and pushed him into it. If it hadn't been there, Blue and I would be dead. You see? I survived because I was lucky. I hardly know what I'm doing."

Ghost argues. "You survived because you saw opportunities and took them. You were smart about it."

"And what about when there are no opportunities? I will just panic like I did now." The tightness in your chest turns into something that has you roughly grabbing the jacket and sheathing your bare arms. "Let's just go back now.”

This time, he doesn't protest. The silence that clouds the short walk back is expected on his part, and purposeful on yours. 

[literallykenmaandshoyo]

When It Snows

Bruce Wayne x Reader (gender neutral)

Requested by: N/A Proofread: By my bestie Brian :) Genre: Fluff Music: A playlist for a 19th-century villain rejoicing in his fallen enemies Warnings: N/A Summary: Batman doesn't take breaks, but you can convince Bruce Wayne to Author's Note: Bruce Wayne….let me take care of you babygirl…

-Mod Kenma

Even when missions and stakeouts go right, it’s hard for Bruce to catch a break. He had a couple of new stitches and a bruised rib. Of course, you were there to patch him up. It was something that you had to get used to, seeing your husband bruised and bloody, in desperate need of a doctor.

So when winter came, you practically begged Bruce to take a break. It was the holidays, and winter was coming. It was the perfect time to rest and take a moment to breathe. After a long conversation, weighing the pros and cons, you convinced Bruce to take a weekend trip with you.

The two of you booked a cabin in the forest, far enough away to not have to worry about Gotham but close enough to keep tabs on our children. You both packed light, deciding to stay inside and enjoy each other's company. It was a bit chilly but far better than the humidity in Gotham. It was constantly sticky, an uncomfortable warmth.

The cabin was beautiful, furnished with dark oak wood. It was the perfect amount of comfortable and classy. You both began to unpack, enjoying the sound of the birds chirping and the rustle of the trees from the wind. It even began to sprinkle, a rare occurrence. In Gotham, it usually only thundered, fat raindrops crashing down.

Instead of sleeping in the bedroom, the two of you found comfort in the living room, cuddling on the couch in front of the fire. Thick wool blankets covered you both, shielding you from the cold that seeped through the cabin. Moments like this were right out of a romance novel, the soft sound of rain and the warmth of the fireplace.

In the early morning, when you both awoke, Bruce realized how bright it was outside. It was confusing at first. Why was it so bright? The two of you peeked out of a window, curious. To the surprise of both of you, a fresh blanket of snow draped over everything outside. Snow. Snow was so rare that you assumed you'd never see it in your lifetime here. Bruce had the same surprised look on his face as you did, just as amazed.

Without a warning, you slipped on your shoes and opened the front door. A blast of cold air hit you, making you shiver. Bruce followed you outside, draping a sweater over your shoulders. The two of you walked around in the snow, astonished. The snow looked soft, smooth even. It was beautiful. There were small footprints of birds and squirrels, teeny tiny little prints that made you giggle as you bent down to look at them.  

Bruce couldn't stop himself from taking a few pictures of you on his phone, savoring how carefree you looked, and how some snow fell onto your hair whenever you walked near a tree. He couldn't help it, you looked too happy, too pretty to not take some photos. The two of you made silly shapes in the snow with sticks, writing each other's names and drawing.

Bruce's ability to write in the snow was far better than yours, but you were able to draw better stick figures than he could. It seemed laughable,  Bruce Wayne, Batman, and his lover playing in the snow. But right now, he wasn't Bruce Wayne or Batman. He was just Bruce, just a man with his life partner in the snow. There were no paparazzi, no villains, nobody to keep an image up for.

This was something you needed to do more often, finding your own little pockets of time that were filled with moments like this. Where the world is still for a moment, and life is okay.

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

daeho with kids please

Summary: Dae ho takes you and your little Boy (2), Nam-Yong to a forest cafe for lunch!

It was a beautiful afternoon when Dae-Ho decided to take you and your little boy, Nam-Yong, to a quaint forest café. The sun filtered softly through the leaves, casting warm, dappled light on the path as you walked hand-in-hand with Dae-Ho, Nam-Yong bouncing between the two of you, his small hands clutching both of your fingers.

"Eomma, Appa!" Nam-Yong said with excitement as he skipped ahead, his little feet not quite matching his enthusiasm. "Look! The trees are so big!"

"Yeah, buddy, the trees are so big here," Dae-Ho chuckled, watching his son run ahead before pausing to look back at the two of you.

You laughed softly, the sound of birds singing and the rustle of leaves in the breeze adding a peaceful background to the moment. You could see the joy in Dae-Ho’s face. There was something special about moments like this—just the three of you, out in the world, feeling completely present with one another.

When you arrived at the café, it was nestled under the shade of a large oak tree, with wooden tables and chairs placed around it, offering a rustic and charming atmosphere. A few people sat quietly, enjoying their drinks and the view of the forest, but it wasn’t crowded, making it the perfect place for a peaceful lunch.

"Let’s get a nice table by the window so we can see everything," you suggested, and Dae-Ho nodded, steering Nam-Yong toward one of the empty tables that had a perfect view of the forest path.

Nam-Yong immediately climbed into his seat, his excitement bubbling over. "Look, Eomma! A squirrel!" he shouted, pointing toward a little creature darting across the ground near the café.

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. "It’s so cute, isn’t it?"

Dae-Ho sat beside you, putting his arm around you affectionately. "He’s growing up so fast. I swear he was just born yesterday."

You leaned into him, taking in the moment. "I know. It feels like time is flying."

The waitress came over, greeting you warmly, and took your orders. Nam-Yong, of course, wasn’t satisfied with simply being told to sit still. He was already reaching for the small salt shaker on the table, trying to see how much he could dump into a cup.

You quickly stopped him before the mess could get too out of hand.

"Not too much, buddy!" you said, gently taking the salt from him.

Dae-Ho chuckled, picking up the small spoon that came with his drink. "He’s a curious one, isn’t he?"

"Just like his appa," you teased, and Dae-Ho shot you a playful look.

"Well, someone’s gotta keep the curiosity alive," he replied with a grin. "Although, I don’t think I ever dumped salt into a cup when I was his age."

The food arrived, and Nam-Yong immediately grabbed his sandwich, taking a big bite and chewing happily. He didn’t seem to care about the mess on his face, his cheeks stuffed full as he chattered away about the squirrel, the birds, and how the trees looked like giant umbrellas.

Dae-Ho reached over to grab a napkin, wiping his son’s face with a grin. "You look like you’ve been through an adventure already."

Nam-Yong giggled, swiping his hand over his face in an attempt to clean himself, but only spreading the crumbs further.

"This is perfect," you murmured, looking out at the serene forest and the way the sunlight danced over the trees. "Just us, together."

Dae-Ho squeezed your hand. "It really is."

The afternoon passed by in a peaceful blur. You ate, laughed, and watched Nam-Yong run around the forest path near the café, his little feet splashing in the puddles from the morning rain. The whole experience felt so simple but full of love—just the way it should be.

As you all made your way home, with Nam-Yong nestled between you and Dae-Ho, you couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were to have these moments. Being Eomma and Appa felt so natural, and every day with your little boy was another adventure, just like this one.

NAM-YONG

[g00seg1rl]

Meet Broccoli

Pairing: Azriel x Eris Vanserra

Summary: High Lord of Autumn, Eris Vanserra, was late for a dick appointment. The scoundrel that was one of his hounds needed to bounce around some walls that weren’t inside his home.

Aka Eris regrets not letting his dog ruin his living room because now Azriel was looking up at him, come on his face, taunting eyes and asking him who Broccoli was.

A/N: Hey azris babes, small snack for yall, 2.8k words below this cute lil hound or over on ao3! 😘

He was going to meet Azriel in their preferred Autumnal clearing. He was going to go alone, he thought pointedly as he sent a frustrated sideways glance to the overly-hyper Broccoli.

The stable hand informed him that the soon-to-be papa was practically jumping off the walls as he and Bourbon waited for her to deliver their litter.

And so Eris, oh-so-benevolently, had brought his pet to run around the Forest as he met Azriel for a dick appointment — a very scheduled and longed-for dick appointment.

He let Broccoli loose to run a mile from the clearing, hoping to give the two of them some space from the hound and vice versa, doubting the sight of his vicious hound shredding squirrels would set the mood all that well.

He would’ve walked the distance to calm his racing heart and unwelcome nerves but his loafers were hardly proper footwear to traverse the twiggy path; he supposed he should’ve known to wear more substantial shoes – hm, maybe he should’ve worn those new boots he’d gotten from Rask – but no, they wouldn’t have matched his blouse or trousers as well as the velvet flats did.

And over the nearest person’s dead body would he have changed that blouse; he'd been wanting to wear the navy silk shirt for Azriel since he saw it through an ateliers storefront in Rhoades. He wore deep charcoal slacks, an array of gold studs in his pointed ears and rings on his long fingers. His copper hair flowed down his back in loose curls.

As he magically emerged in the center of the clearing that they’d defiled or blessed, depends who you ask, countless times over the centuries, he instantly clocked the musky smell of mist and cedar. He inhaled deeply through his nose and heard a deep, rumbling chuckle behind him.

He swiveled to see the Shadowsinger, decked out in his typical leathers, leaning against a thick oak tree, biceps bulging as he crossed his arms over his chest, a smug grin painting his pretty face.

“Do I smell that good?” he asked, with a minxy tilt of his head.

“You smell horny,” Eris noted, a tad proud.

A dark glint flickered over his bright hazel eyes. “You have been keeping me waiting,” he reasoned.

“Is testing your patience arousing, Spymaster?” Eris asked, supposing it would explain the career path.

“Standing in this memorable forest, waiting for you to come, thinking of making you come – all very horny inducing.” Azriel’s voice grew hoarser as he went on, pushing off the tree and striding towards the High Lord. “Now if you’ll do me the honor, I would appreciate showing you just how wanton I am with more than scent.”

Eris’s breath caught. Azriel chuckled and those voyeuristic shadows of his delivered the Singer abruptly in front of him, wings wide and crowding.

Eris felt his face flood with heat, and he might have made some sort of squeaking sound. Azriel was so close now, emanating desire and looking at him so, so intently.

“I have always been a visual learner,” he replied, fighting the nervous edge in his voice.

“Then pay close attention, Autumn,” Azriel ordered as he sank to his knees – as if Eris could ever look away.

The Shadowsinger on his knees was a sight that would never lose its novelty, that dizzying downward rush of blood, the heady fluttering of his anticipatory heart. It all made his head spin, in a delectable, delirious sort of way.

Eris swallowed the influx of saliva in mouth. His dick was already rock hard and they hadn’t even kissed, yet. Whose horrible planning was that?

Azriel’s right hand reached to give him some release. Eris wished he could kiss him, but fucking his face would have to do.

He buried his fingers in Azriel’s raven curls, running deft nails up and down, pulling a rumbling purr from the Spymaster.

Like a large hound, Eris snickered to himself.

He stopped snickering to groan, loudly, when Azriel first laid a hand on him, a tight, clenching fist, spat in unceremoniously. Not that there was a hand-spitting ceremony he knew of, for the record.

His other hand raked up Eris’s porcelain abs, shadows sneakily unclasping the ivory buttons as they passed with Azriel’s hand. Marred fingers tweaked his left nipple, the scars of his skin created an overwhelming friction that had Eris’s toes curling in his loafers. His shirt silently fell to the ground.

Eris knew intimately how hot Azriel’s tongue was, and when it ran over the male’s lower lip he was rabidly jealous. Azriel looked up to Eris with darkened hazel eyes.

“Would you hurry up?” Eris keened, jerking his hips urgently into Azriel’s fist, and waiting not very patiently for the Illyrian to open his mouth. He halted the scalp massage to tug the smirking male forward.

“So needy today, High Lord. You should’ve called me here sooner.” Azriel taunted. His fingers brushed sideways to roll Eris’s other nipple between them. It felt delicious; he felt ungrateful for not appreciating being touched by Az, he just craved for more.

“Mmhm, yes, shoulda coulda woulda, can you please open your mouth now?” Eris whined, bucking his hips again.

“Aw saying please already,” Azriel cooed but fucking finally lapped at the bead of precome that was probably about to drip onto his leathers.

“Hhnnm,” Eris shuddered as Azriel, the tease, placed a light kiss on the slit of his tip. His tongue chased for more, and Eris’s knees felt weak.

He threaded his fingers down, opening Azriel’s mouth because apparently the Illyrian had forgotten how to. Azriel parted his lips, their corners pulling into an amused smirk Eris was so very happy he’d get to fuck away.

“Ohh fuuuck,” Eris groaned as Azriel pushed his tongue out to rest teasingly over his bottom lip. Eris would have none of it; he canted his hips forward as he pulled Azriel sharply closer. He feared he was going to come the instant Azriel’s hot, wet tongue made contact with the flushed, sensitive skin of his cock. Thankfully he didn’t, or he might have set the forest aflame in shame for wasting this precious mouth.

Eris moaned loud enough to scare the birds from their branches, as the menace that was his unofficial malefriend hummed whorishly as he took him deeper and deeper into the slick and watering velvety channel that was his heavenly throat. No matter how many times he’d gotten Azriel’s mouth, the overwhelming pleasure always caught him off guard.

Azriel grabbed handfuls of Eris’s ass as soon as Eris’s dick was far enough past his lips that it no longer required a leveling hand. Kneading and needy, Azriel made his way up to slip into and lower Eris’s pants, sliding them down to his knees.

“Azriel!” Eris nearly howled when Azriel swallowed around his length, then broke off into ragged moans as he began thrusted shallowly, sliding his cock languidly back and forth over Azriel’s tongue. Azriel, the perfect slut that he was, was having none of Eris’s slow, trying-not-to-come bullshit, though the only warning of his rabidity was a sinful glint in his watering eyes.

Azriel bobbed his head forward insistently, his lips wrapping tight as he salaciously sucked his way to forcefully shoving Eris off pleasure’s tantalizing precipice. His tongue, the wicked thing, swished across the underside of Eris’s cock. Eris’s back arched and his head fell back; a puff of smoke escaped his slack jaw, expelling none of the volcanic heat he felt building inside himself.

“AaaHHH, SWEET MOTHER ABOVE!” Eris cried. His chest heaved and his fingers tightened in Azriel’s hair; he felt like he was slipping out of reality, nothing could possibly feel this good.

Azriel grazed his teeth against the vein on the underside of his cock in reprimand, principally opposed to the Mother's name being used in vain. Azriel was in no position to flex religion but Eris groaned passively.

Some of Azriel’s shadows tickled Eris’s thighs, others – the kinkier ones – wound up his body to pull and rub coolly against his nipples. “Mmnhhn.” Eris shuddered. Then not so demurely, bleated as the most daring of the bunch fondled his taut balls.

Eris looked down as he ground his hips forward, inserting the last inch or two of his cock past Azriel’s reddening, working lips. He took it beautifully; tears formed at the edge of his eyes and his jaw was doubtlessly aching, but he took it like he needed it. Eris wanted to wipe them away and make him spring more.

He was not Autumnal, yet Azriel seemed to have a special way with Eris’s molten body that not even his own fae could handle. Azriel swallowed again, and having most of Eris’s cock down his throat felt heavenly. No, more than that – it felt like what a saint’s reward might be if all the sycophants and gluttons around him claimed upcoming heaven. Azriel was an ethereal pleasure Eris never deserved but always savored.

Azriel moaned, letting his eyes fall shut and the tears escaped as he bottomed out, his nose tickling copper hairs. He didn’t stay, didn’t allow Eris to relish his mouth before he withdrew to the tip and made his slick way down to Eris’s base again, and then again, and then hypnotizingly again.

Azriel’s hands ran down the cleft of Eris’s ass, spreading the fat of his cheeks to expose his hole to the crisp Autumn air. A somehow oiled finger – those shadows were earning their keep – circled his rim gently – okay, not so gently. Azriel pushed his thick finger past the tight ring of muscle Eris was trying to relax.

The thoughtful devil took Eris’s vacant mind off the stinging stretch of his finger with a clenching gag and an especially deep stroke. He curved his finger at the knuckle and dragged slowly back out till the tip of his finger, thrusting two back in as he swallowed and his slick throat constricted around Eris.

Eris perked his ass back, trying to chase Azriel’s fingers. Azriel’s pretty eyes opened, glossy and darkened, a prideful tinge to their hazel. The Illyrian‘s ever-confident shades sneaked inside Eris along with Azriel’s fingers.

“AHHH WHATTHE –!” Eris jolted, and Azriel’s shoulders shook with laughter.

The shadows bore down on Eris’s prostate, brushing back and forth with varying, randomly increased pressure, never allowing Eris to accommodate their presence. Azriel scissored his fingers, stretching him wide for his doubtlessly desperate dick.

It wasn’t the shadows or the fingers that finished him off, it was a sloppy gag that had Eris yanking Azriel back by his hair and coming all over his bronze cheekbones.

“Warning would’ve been appreciated.”

“Hahng,” Eris sort of replied.

His vision was still swimming but the blurred image of Azriel with white ropes painting his face was still gorgeous. Unfortunately the half-sight robbed his attention so entirely that he didn’t see his hound darting through the clearing until Broccoli was already chasing his prey, a pitiful fox, through the trees on their right.

Azriel’s back went ramrod straight at the loud growling and thunder of heavy claws raced behind them. Azriel pulled his fingers out, but the shadows spread and filled Eris’s hole, keeping him fuckable. If this dog cost him any more of Azriel’s attention, he would gift him to Tamlin.

“Broccoli! Rush!” Eris ordered, goading him to hunt beyond the treeline.

The fox and the hound disappeared from eyesight, taking Eris’s blissful dissociative state along with them.

“Broccoli?” Azriel queried, his voice laced with laughter and far too much judgment for Eris’s liking.

Eris snorted, and lifted his knee. He pressed his toes hard against Azriel’s leather-covered cock, and taunted, “Would you really like to discuss vegetables at the moment?”

Azriel, who’s a menace in case he hadn’t mentioned, barked out a laugh (the second proof of his dog-like demeanor) and ground his hips into Eris’s shoe.

“You underestimate my ability to interrogate?” Azriel husked.

Eris whined, “Ugh, can we talk about this later?” He truly didn’t want to waste another moment.

“We will most definitely be talking about this later.” Azriel smirked.

Eris chuckled and lifted his foot to hover above Azriel’s bulging leathers. He sniggered at how needily Azriel chased after it.

Az growled (evidential item number three), and pulled Eris down by his knees, still bound by the taut fabric of his pants that had only partly been removed.

“Omph.” He landed with a huff. Before he could complain, Azriel grabbed his waist and smoothly flipped him onto all fours.

“Didn’t you just complain about the lack of warnings?” Eris breathed... and also arched his back.

“You did just step on my dick – I don't recall a ‘watch out,’” Azriel unfortunately recalled correctly.

“Was the hasty manhandling for show or do you plan on fucking me any day now?” Eris goaded.

The cool spread of shades leaving his fluttering hole and the shuffling of leather answered for the Shadowsinger.

Eris felt his very soul shudder as Azriel circled his malleable rim with his thick, slick tip; It didn’t take much pressure for Azriel to thrust inside.

“Oh – AAAHH!” Eris shouted as Azriel rammed in. His elbows buckled and he braced himself on his forearms to avoid burying his face in soil.

“Mmn, s’fuckin’ tight,” Azriel bit out as he fucked his endless and girthy length deep inside Eris.

“Hnnmnhng,” Eris groaned, digging his elbows in the ground and sending his hips back.

“Oh fuck Eris,” Azriel husked and grabbed hold of his trim waist, aiding the High Lord’s momentum.

“HmNG – hnmMN – MMN,” They moaned over one another, each meeting of their pelvises threatened to knock Eris off the edge he’d barely just climbed back up onto.

Azriel’s thrusts got sharper, stilling Eris’s efforts to keep up. He fucked Eris into the ground, offering his body no mercy as he bore down on his hole. The messy sound of oiled, slapping skin brought a deeper blush to Eris’s already flushed face.

“Fuck fuck fuck Azriel Azriel Azriel – AZRIEL!” Eris chanted as all his nerves lit up with overwhelming pleasure and he came once more.

“Ohh Eris!” Azriel roared as he finished, pulling Eris flush against him as he ground his hips deep. His heavy cock pulsed and he filled Eris to the brim and then some.

Hot come dripped down his thighs, making him shiver.

The hefty Illyrian collapsed on top of him with all the grace of an elephant trying ballet. Eris grumbled but didn’t do anything to move, the weight felt nice.

The cottony sound in his ears lessened slowly as he recouped his senses. The comforting weight of Azriel was offering a stability not even his Autumnal ground could.

Az eventually groaned and lifted himself up, his softened length slipping slickly out of Eris. A strong arm wrapped around Eris’s middle and hoisted him up. He melted against Azriel’s chest, the cool leather soothing his flush skin. Shadows aided the effort.

He focused on breathing in cedar and mist, the calming feeling of Azriel’s skin against his and the chittering of the woods around them as he regained lucidity.

“When can I see you again?” Azriel murmured against the shell of his ear.

Eris smiled to himself. “Why don’t you try and surprise me?”

“What happened to wanting warnings?” Az teased, his voice a bit ginger.

“Turns out you’re favorable unconditionally.”

“Not to tempt fate, but can I ask why the fuck your hound’s name is Broccoli?”

Eris snorted, “It was Lucien, I swear.”

“Aha,” Az chuckled. ”Broccoli, a beast of legends –”

“Okay, beast feels a bit derogatory,” Eris objected, doing his best to prolong the preamble and avoiding Azriel’s teasing.

“Oh since when? You’ve said you love me beastly.”

“I’m sure you’re mistaken, perhaps you misheard me saying ‘I love you, beast’.”

“Deny it all you’d like, my dear, but if it’s good enough for me then it’s good enough for Broccoli.”

“I’m not sure where the confidence came from, my hounds far outrank you Shadowsinger,” Eris deadpanned, fighting the grin threatening his composure.

“Oh come on, there are twelve of them in Prythian and only one of me,” Azriel complained egotistically.

“Hmm, sounds to me like you’re getting awfully jealous of my dogs, Azriel. Perhaps I can offer you some of their… treatments?”

He would not be opposed to walking the Shadowsinger around, or making him hunt for their dinner. And he would quite like to see his tan neck collared.

Azriel snorted and turned his come-covered face away, fighting a blush or grin Eris refused to miss. He clasped Azriel’s jaw between his forefingers and brought their lips close to one another.

“No need for envy, dear, I’m all yours.”

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! 💗

Thank you so much @the-darkestminds for helping me come up with this when I wanted to write some Azris and none of my wips were flowing 😘 thank you @makinglongwordsslutty for beta reading on short notice, mwah mwah mwah 💗

My Azris boo thangs (affectionate nd respectful): @nus4y @astro-h0e-4azris @jules-writes-stories @mistandmemories @pippsmcgee @mudandmire @iftheshoef1tz @icey--stars @ninthcircleofprythian @molcat07 @missblackstar @irithiadourden @fourteentrout @3xolara @brunetterebel010 @sunstar-drabbles @chunkypossum @neciebee please do lmk if you’d like on/off my tag list 💗

For more of my silly hound lore, the dinner conversation of Civil Shitshow explains it a bit lol

[thedeathlysallows]

Thunder Bringer

I haven't decided if I'll make this a multi part thing or just leave it as is but I couldn't get this specific scene out of my head. Enjoy!

You just want to take your son to the park, but the weather has other ideas

Thor Odinson x Reader

It's been a rainy, grey, awful afternoon. The morning started out beautiful. Not a cloud in the sky or in the forecast. So you made a plan to take your son to the park after his nap, but as soon as you got there... a downpour of epic proportions.

"Mama?" His little eyes peer up at you through his choppy bangs (you never claimed to be a world-class hair stylist, just a mom on a single income doing her best). "Lunch?"

He had refused the pb&j you'd made at home, but you're desperate to salvage the ruined trip to the park and you're also pretty sure you have some cash on you, so...

"Sure, baby, we can get lunch."

"Alright!" He claps his hands together and giggles like he's won the lottery. He looks around before pointing a chubby finger at a small diner a little ways down the road. "There, Mama?"

"Yeah, we can go there."

The walk is brief, but your son fills the time with his endless chatter. You don't mind it. Hearing his little voice is soothing in a way you never quite expected. Being a mom was never high on your list of priorities, but then he was here, and every moment became about how to give him the best life. You thought you knew what devotion was before. You didn't know anything.

"Oh!" Your son jumps when there's an extra loud crack of thunder as the two of you walk in the diner. "Loud thunder!"

"Hey, do you know who makes thunder?"

He shakes his head as you direct him to a booth, sliding all the way up against the wall. "Who?"

"Thor!"

You watch the way his face lights up at the mention of his favorite Avenger. The two of you have had this exact conversation millions of times, but he likes having it. He likes showing off how much he knows about Thor.

"Thor has hammer!" He balls up his fist and makes a large swinging motion, hitting a stack of napkins. "He makes rain."

"Yep, he does, good job. Do you remember his dad's name?"

He pretends to think, tapping his chin with his pointer finger. "Mmm... Odin!"

"What about his mom's name?"

Before your son even has a chance to answer, a voice as loud and booming as the thunder outside interrupts.

"I think I am much more interested in the name of this handsome lad's mother."

You don't want to look up, embarrassment flooding your body. You know who it is. Everyone in the diner knows who it is. Your son especially knows who it is. He's up and trying to scramble over the top of the booth to get to Thor before you can so much as blink.

"Thor! Hi!" He's trying to climb up the god's torso, clinging each muscle like a squirrel shimmying up an oak tree.

If you were embarrassed before you're absolutely mortified now.

You grab your son's waist and yank him back down into the booth. He won't sit. He's too excited. The fight wouldn't even be worth it. You would lose and everyone would just look at you and shake their head as if one bad moment defines all of your parenting.

"Hey, no, we don't act like this when we're meeting new people." You do your best to calm your son but it's futile. You don't even think he remembers you exist. He only has eyes for Thor... who keeps sneaking glances at you.

Your eyes accidentally meet and Thor inclines his head to the opposite side of the booth. "May I sit..."

It takes you entirely too long to realize he's asking for your name. You manage to introduce yourself and your son with only slight stuttering. Thor smiles a bright, doting smile as he repeats your names.

"What brings such a lovely mother and her son to this diner?"

"Oh, well, we were supposed to be at the park, but then..." you gesture vaguely to the weather outside.

Thor grins sheepishly, the rain slacking off to a gentle patter. Clouds part just enough for a bit of sun to peek through. "My apologies."

Your son watches the weather in complete wonder, eyes darting from the window to Thor several times. He starts babbling excitedly to the god and Thor does his best to keep up. You have to interrupt their conversation here and there with toddler translations, but the attention he showers your son with is impressive. Even you struggle to be that doting and attentive at times.

Lunch passes in a charmed haze. Thor is so kind, and funny, and he's so good to your son. You were never one for celebrity crushes... but maybe this is one worth having.

Thor glances at your phone as it lights up with a text. "Is it really that late?"

"Huh? Oh." You look at the time. Shit. It is late. You've been here for far too long. "Oh no, we should be getting back home. Your dad will be upset if we're late."

You're so focused on cleaning up your son that you miss the way Thor's eyes darken. You can hear the thunder coming back though, and your head snaps up to look outside.

"This you, big guy?" You tease Thor playfully, expecting a smile back.

It comes.

Eventually.

"Not this time. This is all Mother Nature. Please, allow me to walk you to your car."

"Oh, we didn't drive. We walked. Our apartment isn't very far from here."

"Then allow me to escort you home."

Warning bells go off in your head. If your ex sees you with Thor...

"No, that's alright, thanks."

"Please-"

"I can't." You aren't trying to be rude by cutting him off, but the familiar fear is creeping in. "I'm sorry."

Thor appraises you and you can tell he knows something is off. "Then have my cell phone number. I would like you to have it in case you run into trouble."

That should be fine. It's just a number. Nothing else. "Okay. Yeah."

[the-king-andthe-lionheart]

Book Gendrya Month 2023 - Day Eight - Romantic Tropes

Love Theme

Arya and Gendry share several romantic tropes in their story with each other, especially in A Storm of Swords, but I think one of their most significant romantic tropes that they have is their love theme.  And it’s so significant because GRRM went out of his way to specifically write this song for them and no one else as it doesn’t show up anywhere else in the books, just in Arya IV ASOS.

“My featherbed is deep and soft, and there I'll lay you down, I'll dress you all in yellow silk, and on your head a crown. For you shall be my lady love, and I shall be your lord. I'll always keep you warm and safe, and guard you with my sword." “And how she smiled and how she laughed, the maiden of the tree. She spun away and said to him, no featherbed for me. I'll wear a gown of golden leaves, and bind my hair with grass, But you can be my forest love, and me your forest lass.”

Now we know this song is about them because when Tom O’Sevens is singing it, he winks at Arya, and later Lady Smallwood specifically says to Arya “I have no gowns of leaves”.  The song specifically mentions yellow – a Baratheon color – and crowns - Gendry’s biological father was the former King - and depicts the free spirited “Maiden of the Tree” who wants love on her own terms, which sounds like what an older, flowered version of Arya would want if she fell in love even if that doesn’t necessarily mean literally forsaking noble life to live in a forest.  We also know this is about them because in the previous scene we get this:

Gendry put the hammer down and looked at her.  “You look different now.  Like a proper little girl.” “I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns.” “Nice, though.  A nice oak tree.”  He stepped closer, and sniffed at her.  “You even smell nice for a change.”

During these scenes, Arya is wearing a pale green dress that is embroidered with acorns.  She also has a lot of “maiden of the tree” symbolism.  She is referred to several times as a squirrel while with the Brotherhood Without Banners and is often associated with the Children of the Forest and is a powerful skinchanger.  Arya worships the Old Gods and the Old Gods actually speak back to her from the trees.  She has learned “needlework” in the branches of weirwoods and other trees, and is often climbing trees.  And she has also ingested acorn paste numerous times to stay alive.

Gendry also has symbolic ties to trees. Gendry as a Baratheon (even a Baratheon bastard) is tied to the storm, the fury - thunder and lightning - and he carries a hammer just like the Norse god, Thor - god of lightning, thunder, storms, sacred groves and trees, strength, the protection of mankind and also hallowing and fertility. Thor's tree of life was an oak tree. So while Arya and Gendry are in the smithy at Acorn Hall, Arya represents the oak tree and Gendry represents a god of power that is linked to the oak tree. So Arya has symbolically become Gendry's Tree of Life, the oak tree he is forever linked to.

[selkiechild4998]

✧°˖────———- ・・・・・ . ☽ ‧₊˚ ···╮

Inferna Terra

╰┈ ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ ・・・・———-────°˖✧

The first part of a series of both Ghoul Taxonomy and Murder Ghouls! I hope ya'll enjoy it!

TW- Mentions of violence, ghouls hunting a man down

Genre: Light Horror

Word Count- 1,994 Words

AO3 Link- Here

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　⛧⃝　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

"This is wonderful," The voice of a man whined in a sarcastic manner within the woods, " 'Go on a hunting trip,' They said, 'It'll be good for you, ' they said," He grumbled, "Now I'm stuck in a tree during a fucking storm!" He yelled at the treetops, the only response he got being the rustling of the branches of the mixture of pine and oak around him. As the man listened to the sounds of nature around him from within his tree stand, he sighed, bumping his head back against the tree trunk and mumbling, "Oh, Kert...How do you get yourself into these messes..."

Kert frowned as he looked up at the swirling dark clouds above. He knew his friends meant well, setting him up at their hunting cabin. He's been stuck in the city for years, and his friends insisted he spend a week in one of their old hunting cabins. The first day in the cabin wasn't so bad; the drive up was beautiful, and the cabin was cozy and warm. On his second day at the cabin, he had neglected to check the weather before walking to the tree stand. And now he's stuck in a random tree in the middle of a storm.

Sighing, Kert made his way down the ladder of the deer stand, his rifle slung over his back. "Just got to follow the trail back," He mumbled, "Then I can get out of this stupid storm." The trail was supposed to be a short walk, just barely over a fifteen-minute walk, but the longer Kert walked, the more the forest looked unfamiliar. "No...No, come on," Kert groaned, digging through his pocket and grabbing his phone, hoping to pull up a map, only to see he had no signal.

"Great... just great!" He grumbled, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he continued down the trail. He knew this trail had to lead somewhere, which was very clearly made by people. If he's lucky, it would lead to another cabin or maybe a small town nestled within the dark mountains.

He was soaked by the rain as it fell hard around him, soaking through the forest camouflage clothes he wore. He could feel the rain seep into his boots, causing them to squeak and squelch with each step. He kept walking down the trail, boots squishing and puddles splashed with each step. After he had walked for a while, Kert paused and listened. Other than the rain, the forest was quiet. That was never a good sign.

Kert stopped in the middle of the trail, looking around with paranoia. He could feel eyes on him, even as the storm raged around him. Nothing should be out in this weather; not even the birds flew from their perches or squirrels scampered from their knot holes. Something still told him to leave the area, something primal within him. So he walked forward, now at a faster pace.

He tried to keep his footfall as silent as possible, adjusting the rifle balanced on his shoulder. He felt eyes on him. He tried to ignore the feeling of being watched, reminding himself to stay calm. Panic will only lead to disaster, especially if something is stalking him. He could hear something beyond the brush around him, matching his footsteps.  

He was about to yell out before jumping when he heard melodic beeping and short vibrations coming from his pocket. Cell service! Kert fumbled as he grabbed his phone, looking at the message he had received.

CrypidBoi428: You still on your trip? The police found something up there last night, K-Man.

Followed by a link to an article that proclaims,

"Body of Missing Hiker Found in Mountains. Cult or Wildlife to Blame?"

Kert winced reading that headline, but he wasn't surprised. Tim has always been an oddball, even when they were kids. He was obsessed with the idea that some blood cult was up in the mountains, even making a conspiracy corkboard of the evidence he'd collected. He never believed that sort of stuff. The mountain range is home to bears, lynxes, and wolves, all of whom are shy around humans.

He was about to text Tim back before hearing a twig snap, his gaze snapping up, and met with green eyes staring back at him just twenty feet away.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. It looked human but mixed with a deer or maybe a fawn. They were small, white spots decorating their dark, earth-colored skin. Atop his head sat a pair of small forked antlers, and his light apple-green eyes stayed locked on him. They reminded Kert of the satyrs he'd seen at Ren-Fairs Tim would drag him to.

"Umm...H-Hi?" Kert awkwardly waved, reasoning that he must have stumbled across some strange LARP session and this was just a person who was really in character, "Did I interrupt something?"

The person in front of him didn't respond, only continuing to stare at him with rectangular pupils.

"That's a neat costume," Kert awkwardly complimented. That's when the strange person smiled at him, but that smile was wrong. It reminded him of how some animals grin as a show of aggression. It was enough to make him take a step back. With each step he took back, the creature took two steps forward, stalking him.

"Come on, back it up," Kert tried intimidating them, grabbing his rifle. But the creature suddenly charged forward, forcing Kert to stumble back. That's when he turned and ran, fumbling with his rifle as the creature chased after him, the creature's cloven hooves hardly making a sound on the forest floor.

Kert cursed at himself as he fumbled to load his rifle as he ran while also trying not to trip. What is that creature; they definitely aren't human! He nearly dropped the round of ammunition as he struggled to load it into the rifle's chamber. When he got the shell into the chamber, he ran into something solid, letting out a pained grunt as he fell back to the ground. When he looked up, he didn't want to believe what he saw.

Another one of those cloven-hooved monsters stared down at him. The creature was shaggy, with long brown fur covering their eyes, but the deep green glow underneath those locks still shined through. There was pale, almost blonde hair around its neck despite most of the creature's fur being brown. It reminded him of caribou, especially with those antlers atop his head that were covered in vines of ivy. He hardly had time to react as he rolled to the side, the creature letting out a horrid noise as he turned, a spiked-tipped tail swinging to hit the human.

He moved just in time to avoid those sharp spikes, letting out a strangled yell when he saw those spikes pirce his rifle, rendering it useless. "Oh fuck!" He yelled, scrambling to get up, nearly falling over himself as he fled. He could hear that monster chasing after him, hooves thundering against the ground as he ran, trying to take random turns through the forest.

It was with one turn that Kert's eyes landed on the glint of glass. A building! Where there are buildings, there are people! He's saved! "Help! Someone! There's something chasing m-" He yelled before being cut off when something suddenly smashed into his side, sending him flying to the ground, gasping like a fish out of water for air. His vision swam as he clutched his side, rolling to lay on his back as he wheezed.

He saw a third creature approach him or, more accurately, felt him step closer. Their footfall was heavy, causing the ground to tremble slightly as the biggest of the creatures prowled forward. Their antlers were so big they blocked out the very little sunlight that peeked through the rain clouds, curving like a moose's antlers but with much larger tines, and the main palms didn't curve as dramatically to create the paddle-like shape of the moose.

Kert could hardly make out the creature's face, the edges of his vision fading to black as the creature loomed over him. The last thing he saw was the creature's clubbed tail rising off the ground, the human closing his eyes and accepting his fate.  

He waited for that club to make contact, his ears ringing slightly before hearing a voice, muffled and echoey in his ears.

"Hello?... Hellooo?" The voice called.

"Wakey wakey, gotta get up, buddy!"

A soft groan escaped Kert as he squinted his eyes open, wincing at the deep ache in his side. His vision was still blurred, but he looked at the source of the voice, seeing a man in a black cassock and what looked like black eye shadow messily smeared around his eyes. He also has the curliest black hair Kert had seen, the curled locks covering his eyes.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Bud!" He chirped cheerfully, his smile revealing he has a little tooth gap, "I was starting to think Mountain sent you to god, same-day shipping!"

"Wha? Who's..." Kert mumbled before his eyes scanned the room, freezing. He saw that massive creature standing nearby, looking at him without a hint of the aggression he had shown earlier. He could see his face clearly this time, his fur a deep, rich maroon color with a white blaze on his nose.

"What the fuck is that!?" Kert yelled, moving to sit up before gasping at the sharp pain in his side, falling back against the bed.

The man was hardly bothered, answering with a, "Thats Mountain! Your pretty lucky man, Mounty is a beast when it comes to trespassers."

Mountain perked up, stepping closer to Kert before another voice stopped him.

"Mountain, give him from space," another man said as he entered the room, looking almost exactly like the man who had woken him up.

"I just wanted to apologize," Mountain started with a nervous smile.

"I know, big guy, but give him some space. Mikey, you're not bothering him, are you?"

"No, I'm not Micheal," The man who must be Mikey replied with a groan, "I was just checking on him! We never get visitors."

"Sorry, but who are you guys? Where am I? W-What is 'Mountain'? And those other things?" Kert interrupted the two.

"I'm Mikey, and that's my brother Micheal. We're twins!"

"You're in the Ministry. And Mountain is one of our Earth Ghouls. You probably saw Pebble and Ivy earlier."

"Ghoul? Ministry?" Kert tried to wrap his head around the information given to him.

"We can explain more when you recover. Mountain gave you a nasty bruise on your ribs. Surprised he didn't break anything." Micheal stated as he let Mountain step out of the Infirmary.

Kert frowned as he looked at his side, moving the blanket draped over him to see the bandages wrapped around his waist. "No, No, I can't stay here. I need to get back home," He insisted, trying to push himself up, but the ache in his ribs forced him back down.

"Hey! Careful! Don't worry, once your all better, we can talk to Papa and see if we can't get you home," Mikey reassured.

"Papa? Who's Papa?"

"He leads our Abby," Micheal answered, "He's been pretty busy though, he's recently gotten promoted from Cardinal to Papa."

Kert winced as he ran his hands through his messy blond hair, slumping against the bed.

"Don't worry too much about it. We'll get you patched up in no time. I can even show you around!" Mikey offered.

Kert frowned, glancing over at Mikey, "I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"No, not really. But right now, you need some rest. Come on, Mikey."

"Comin'!" Mikey chirped, following his much calmer brother and leaving Kert in the Infirmary, wondering just how he got himself into this mess and how he can get himself out of it.

[m00n-beamz]

bodies are for climbing trees- a poem

You stand in the twisty shadow of the old Cedar, looking up at its peak Like a squirrel or an owl, or a nymph You wanted to be perched on one of its branches With one hand after the other, bending like the trees branches you are climbing Your torso folding and curving like the crooked trunk Bodies were made for this

So, why do I inflict merciless pain on my own? When what I'd rather be doing is climbing up that tree with you Instead, I sit in my aches and pains and starvation, wishing to be nothing Nothing at all

I hunger for something else though Like the rough bark on my hands, the wind whispering the forests secrets in my ear I have a hunger for living unapologetically Despite everything

My body can climb trees, and I will fiercely let my body know what it deserves After only showing it hatred and betrayal I am meeting myself at the top of this tree The leaves on the Oak sing in the wind as they change colour for Autumn I am getting to know you

I will allow my body to do what it was meant to do I will allow my body to be fueled I will allow my body to endure Endure only the pain that will make me stronger Not the pain that makes me frail like an apple left out in the sun

Of nature and of this Earth, this is what my body is made from And this is what I shall return to Bodies are for taking us places Laying in grass and eating bread

How you look is arbitrary How are you feeling now that you can hear the birds? Now that you can see the sun rise? Who is telling you that you are fundamentally wrong for your body being the way that it is? Who is stopping you from radical self acceptance?

The way your body looks tells me nothing about your favorite movie Or how you get emotional when you see a butterfly It keeps the score of all you’ve been through, yes But you don’t know how much better it will get If you start to listen to what it needs, to what you need Realize that you deserve to be loved and cared for by your very own self I am supposed to be climbing trees

˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖

a poem I wrote for an upcoming zine. It is about one of the things that inspired me to start to attempt recovery from my e*ting disorder. I'm here to say that recovery is going super well : )

[bridgyrose]

Lothar likes having someone do squirrel things with her, and tries to keep Tix as squirrel person with her as long as possibe

Lothar paused as she watched Tix gather nuts from around one of the oak trees. The loneliness she felt had finally gone away, but while she didnt understand how Tix managed to look like her, she did understand that this was all going to be temporary. Eventually Tix would have to stop looking like a squirrel whether it be for a mission or whenever she needed to get back to Sik. 

And the thought of being alone again terrified her. No matter how many people she was around, no matter how many other animal-like people there were, as far as she was aware, there wasnt anyone else like her. A mix of elf and squirrel due to experimentation from druids, not belonging in the wilds or with others in cities or villages. Caught between two worlds without the knowledge to survive.

“Is everything okay, Lothar?” Tix asked as she brought over the nuts she gathered. “You look distracted.” 

“Lothar is fine,” Lothar answered as she looked over the nuts. “Tix Tix find nuts fine?” 

Tix nodded and pulled out a couple of the biggest ones. “Found a few big ones too! They’ll be great with dinner.” 

Lothar nodded and started to pick up a few nuts of her own as she started to walk back to Voyardee’s place. She stuffed them into her cheek pouches and climbed up onto Tix’s shoulder, almost amazed with how soft her fur was. She then saw the smile on Tix’s face. It was clear she was happy being like this. 

Which then put a rare thought into her head: if it was possible to make her a squirrel instead of a squirrel-elf, then maybe it was possible to make Tix a squirrel instead of a changeling. 

Lothar shook her head to try to get the thought out. She had never heard of any other people like her, and even if that magic book of everything thought there was a way to fix her, its not like she’d be able to go back to how she used to be. Other squirrels didnt speak common or sylvan, move stones or metal with a thought… and more importantly, she wasnt sure she knew how to really *be* a squirrel anymore without being a person. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tix asked. “You’re normally more excited about the nuts we find. We can go find more.” 

Lothar was about to speak before she paused, winced as if she waited for a whip to strike her back, and then removed the nuts from her cheeks. “Nuts fine. Plenty of nuts.” 

“Then tell me what’s going on.” 

“Does… does Tix Tix like being squirrel?” Lothar slowly asked as she tried to find the words. 

“The tail feels nice and the fur does keep me warm,” Tix said with a smile. “But more importantly, you seem happier when you see me like this. I know what its like to be alone or out of place, so looking a lot like you isnt too much of an issue for me.” 

“Does Tix Tix want to be squirrel?” 

Tix shrugged. “I’ve never thought about it. I’m sure if I wanted to be, Brother wouldnt mind. I’d still be me no matter how I looked.” 

“Would Tix Tix want Lothar to be… elf?”

“After we store the nuts, why dont you show me the best way to climb trees?” 

Lothar looked at Tix curiously, but nodded. “Lothar can show Tix Tix best way.” 

Tix smiled. “And then we can go back around town and see if we can get you some more clothes.” 

Lothar settled down a bit on Tix’s shoulder as they continued back to the cave. From everything she could tell, Tix had wanted to be a squirrel just like her, which brought a smile to her face. 

If there was a way to get herself back to a squirrel, she’d make sure Tix would become one too. Then she’d never have to worry about being alone again. 

[sanders1665]

Memphis sat in the breezeway, his favorite sanctuary in the house. The mild morning air kissed his skin, still and quiet except for the occasional chirp of birds exchanging their morning gossip. Above him, squirrels from the old oak tree scampered across the roof, their tiny claws scratching like scribbles on parchment.

From his vantage point, Memphis could see Michele moving around the bijou kitchen, her deft hands cracking eggs into a skillet with the precision of someone who’d done this a thousand times. The gentle sizzle of frying eggs carried out to him, mingling with the faint aroma of butter and breakfast. Hot Sauce was hunched over the kitchen table, engrossed in his phone, no doubt catching up on sports scores or basketball highlights.

Memphis leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee, watching Michele’s familiar rhythm. She was the kind of woman who turned even the simplest tasks into a performance. The way she swept her hair back from her face, the way she swayed slightly to the music in her head—it all felt like a private show just for him.

Sometimes, she’d catch him looking. This morning was no different. She glanced over her shoulder, smirked, and, with that signature gleam in her eye, flipped him the bird. Then came the smile, the kind that lit up her face and melted away any pretense of malice. Memphis shook his head, smiling despite himself.

“I don’t know how you put up with her, Dad,” Hot Sauce said without looking up.

“I don’t either, son. But she’s good at eggs,” Memphis replied, earning a chuckle from Michele.

Sarcasm was her language, her art form. He admired her for so many things—her sharp wit, her strength, her endless capacity for love—but her sarcasm? That was a double-edged sword.

“I can’t help it,” she’d say whenever he pointed it out, always with a mischievous grin. “It’s in my blood.”

One time, Memphis had bought a shirt with tiny lilac flowers on it. He’d thought it was daring, even a little sophisticated. Michele took one look at it and quipped, “I wouldn’t wear that to a cat race.”

It was funny, sure, but he still rolled his eyes and exhaled heavily, a hiss that spoke of long-suffering amusement. This morning, as he sat in the breezeway, he couldn’t help but laugh to himself at the memory.

Michele’s voice called out from the kitchen. “What’re you grinning about out there, Memphis? Plotting how to outwit me again?”

He leaned back further in his chair, letting the screen door creak as it swayed slightly. “Just admiring you, woman. That and bracing myself for the next insult.”

She poked her head out of the kitchen, a spatula in one hand. “Oh, come on. You know you love it. Keeps you on your toes.”

“Sure, sure,” he muttered, pretending to be put-upon, though his grin betrayed him.

For all her sarcasm, she was his anchor, his light. And mornings like this, with the world just stirring awake and the comforting sounds of family filling the house, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | part fourteen preview

Blue holds her arm out, stopping you from taking another step.

"Sh. I see one."

Up ahead, a squirrel stills on a tree, beady eyes unblinking. In a matter of seconds, Blue throws her knife and pins it to the bark through the stomach. 

"Nice," you comment. "You got it on the first try this time."

In your hand is the other squirrel she killed for you. Ghost started working on your bow yesterday. He didn't say anything to you about it, but you spotted him sitting on the porch chiseling away at a hunk of oak. Until he's finished, you've struck another deal: helping Blue skin the rabbits in exchange for her killing squirrels with you. She's better at killing them with a knife than you are, and you needed something to get you off the couch, anyway.

"This is good practice for me." She wriggles the knife out and hands you the kill. "Poor guy didn't see it coming."

"Probably better that way."

She slips the knife back to her ankle. "Do you need more? Or is two enough."

"Two is enough. I saw these flowers by the trench that I think are edible."

"You can eat flowers?" She makes a face. The two of you begin heading back toward the camp. You didn't go off too far with her. Ghost said she wasn't allowed to go past the pond without him. Truthfully, you were surprised he let her go with you at all. 

"Yeah. Pink Sorrel. They taste lemony, and I'll add the leaves, too. Like a salad."

"Yum," she says sarcastically. "Did Paul teach you that?"

You nod. "He knew a lot about plants."

"Are you sure he didn't like you?" 

"Blue," you almost groan. "You've asked me this twice now."

"Well, you seemed to have spent a lot of time with him, and he taught you a lot of things."

"You can spend time with someone and learn things from them without... liking them."

"I wouldn't know," she shrugs, waving her hand around. "There are no boys here for me to spend time with besides Ghost." 

There is a pause as a cloud rolls over the sun, turning everything dim before it passes. The weather these past few days has been fluctuating like true spring. Cold showers in the morning, intense sunlight by noon, and clouds that come and go. The cabbages Blue planted have sprouted fat, juicy leaves. You've mentally scolded yourself for not including seeds in your deal with Ghost. 

"So when are you and him going to start training or whatever?" Blue speaks up, switching subjects.

"Training?" you repeat.

"He told me you wanted to learn some things." She glances at you. "Look, let me just warn you, he can be a real hard ass. One time, he made me climb up and down a tree twenty times without stopping. And another time, he made me throw knives over and over until I hit the exact same spot on the tree again."

Right. Somehow, that last request you made of him has slipped your mind. You did ask him to teach you how to better defend yourself against other people.

It's been over a week now, and the two of you still haven't talked much except for the necessities. Honestly, it's probably best that way. Maintaining a clinical relationship with him should keep the peace and maybe even earn more of his trust. You're growing confident that he doesn't see you as much of a threat anymore. Last night, you ran into him again after waking up sweaty at some odd hour, and all he did was walk past you, step outside for a cigarette, and then go back to his room. He didn't seem suspicious of you being up at all.

That said, the reminder of the 'training' he's supposed to give you makes your teeth snag onto your lip. 

When you don't respond, Blue adds, "What exactly do you want him to show you? I hate to say it, but I don't think he'll give you one of his guns."

"No," you shake your head. "I don't want that. It's not Greys that I'm as worried about. As long I've got distance, I can use my bow for them. It's more about... other people. They get close. Too close."

"Well, you can always bite their nose off," she gives a bump to your shoulder.

You cringe. "I'd rather not have to do that again."

She pauses, looking at her boots. "What did it taste like?"

"Fucking awful. Probably the grossest thing I've ever experienced."

She looks up. "If you were a Grey, you would've loved it."

"Well, I'm human still, and I much prefer these guys." You wag the dead squirrels in front of her face and she laughs. If you could replace all her tears with that sound, you would.

"You still haven't answered my question," Blue tilts her head. "When are you getting started? Because I have some training in mind for you, too."

You arch a brow but don't question it. "Um. I don't know. Ghost hasn't said anything to me about it, and he's busy working on my bow right now."

"Why don't you ask him, then?" She shoots you a knowing smirk. "Are you scared of him, Twix?"

"No," you say all too quickly. "No... I'm not. I just don't know how to talk to him. He's not exactly approachable."

"Just do what I do. I say whatever I want to him. Except when he's pissed, then—" she freezes for a moment and lays a hand on your shoulder. "—it's better to shut up and listen. Believe me."

You speak under your breath. "Noted."

[faerunscursed]

The bark of the oak was warm from the sun. Mizora leaned against the tree, the blood from the ritual a stark contrast in its rich red in the juicy green of the grass. Grand Duke Wyll Ravenguard had summoned her to the safety of his garden so that she did not feel like she had to force herself into her lesser human disguise. However, he had also instructed her to wait because he had a surprise. Mizora chuckled low, finding the thought that her puppy could surprise her adorable. However, she chose to indulge Wyll and rested in her spot in the garden. Over her head, a few birds chirped and a squirrel leapt from branch to branch. Mizora stretched her wings, basking in the sun with a pleased hum when Wyll cleared his throat. Turning around, Mizora raised a brow in confusion as her warlock approached her with a parcel on his arm? As he stepped closer, the parcel turned out to be a small, swaddled baby. Mizora's eyes widened in shock and she took a step backward. "I did not know you became a father, pup!" Mizora took a deep breath and stepped closer. It took every ounce of self-control to not mutilate the little thing, especially as Wyll gingerly eased the swaddled baby into her arms. Mizora stared down at the innocent life. The baby was a Tiefling as it had a pair of very thin horns on its head like an antelope and the slither of a tail, pushing against Mizora's fingers. The little girl was corpse blue and blinked up at Mizora with red eyes, one seemingly a bit discoloured compared to the other. The Cambion felt a knot in her throat. Her claws were itching to shred the thing in her arms to pieces, yet at the same time, Mizora was terrified that she might break it. Terrified and strangely intrigued. She had not anticipated Wyll becoming a father. However, the fact that the child was a Tiefling was an even greater surprise. Mizora looked back at Wyll and said: "She looks unlike any Tiefling, I have ever encountered before. How is that possible?"

This hadn't been in the cards initially, not for Wyll, whom believed a devil like him wouldn't be destined to have a child. Yet as time went on, and his reign as Grand Duke continued, he knew he would in time eventually meet his end. That meant that he would have to continue the Ravenguard legacy as well.

This task had not surprisingly been hard. As while he did not have time for a dedicated relationship, he wasn't without options. One of the cultists, whom served as a secret service to him and worshipped Mizora, had offered to be a surrogate. It was an offer he wouldn't refuse. Only with that, the only issue was time, and he had nine months of waiting. Nine months of trying to contain his excitement. And most importantly, nine months of keeping it secret from Mizora.

What he had not expected, however, was for his child to be born a tiefling. In all fairness, he should have, but nonetheless it did not stop him from cherishing her the moment she was born. Just like that, anything else that gave him meaning, aside Mizora, could not compare. Once he held his beloved daughter, Lily, he knew his life would change. He was sure Mizora would feel the same, in some way, too.

"I have been Grand Duke for 80 years, Mizora, and even though I age slowly, I know im not invincible. Eventually I will die, and what would the city be left with?" Wyll smiled fondly at Mizora as he carefully eased Lily into Mizora's arms. Almost immediately Lily seemed attached, as tiny hands wrapped around a finger. "Turns out, Lily is exactly what I needed to bring some spring back into my step."

It took a great deal of trust, to put a child, regardless of origin into the arms of a cambion. But for Wyll, there was no one else he could put such trust in. He had no doubt Mizora, struggled with inner impulses that he, too, felt at times. "One your followers, offered to surrogate. She gave birth a week ago. Though I admit, she looks more like you than she does me." Wyll chuckled, noticing how much more often Lily smiled in Mizora's

What Mizora said rang true, for Lily did not look like any usual tiefling. "Maybe her appearance has something to do with us? Given how intertwined we are." That, of course only made him love her more. He loved the way her barely formed horns were shaped, including the little stubs of not yet formed horns. Her skin was a corpse blue, with a hint of brown, something especially unique. "Funny, this is the first time I've seen her smile their much so far. It's like she is more connected to you than I ever was." Lily's tail even seemed to respond, flicking just slightly as if responding to being in her arms. @shimmerbeasts

[franklyshipping]

Consequences Of The Wilderness ~ A Jacksepticeye Ego Fanfic

HERE WE HAVE THE FIRST FIC FROM THE NEW PROMPT CYCLE! This is courtesy of the wonderful Jameson/Marvin anon, thank you so much for sending this in! It's time to have fun with our favourite septic survival guy + the best dad... LET'S DO THIS!

Angus had been trying to figure out for a while what exactly it was that made Chase the most incredible father. There were endless factors to consider: his patience, kindness, the way he gave his time, how he helped his kids feel like they were listened to. But Angus had discovered a factor more important than all of these. Somehow, Chase had retained the ability to remember what it was like to be a child, and never attached shame to “childish” things. That meant whenever his kids had a nonsensical, wild, silly idea, they knew they could always bring it up to their dad without worrying about being shamed or made fun of or told to “grow up”. The child in Chase was still alive, and Angus thought that was amazing. Though, it also meant he was having to keep his senses keen as he lead Chase through the manor’s woodland, knowing at any moment Chase could dart away into the undergrowth out of excitement.

‘Ooh, that’s burdock right?’

Chase asked, and Angus huffed out a laugh as he jogged to catch up with him. He glanced at the plant Chase was pointing to, and grinned.

‘Yep. Y’know you’re gettin’ pretty good at this.’

‘Well I’ve got a pretty epic guide.’

Chase bumped shoulders with him with his own grin. Chase was planning on having a little exploration/camping trip with his kids, and figured the expansive woodland around the manor would be the perfect place for it – but he wanted to make sure he knew what things to forage and what things to not touch under any circumstances, and so had asked Angus to give him the guided tour of mother nature. Angus was more than happy to be of help, loving teaching people about nature and survival stuff whenever he could – though he hadn’t banked on Chase getting sidetracked every five minutes by a cool mushroom, patch of moss, oddly shaped tree trunk, or every single squirrel. One of which Chase had had spotted, and darted after yet again.

‘Oh for– Chase slow down!’

‘Relax Angus I’m good!’

Angus sighed with a laugh, trying to keep pace with him whilst also keeping his keen gaze on the forest floor.

‘Yeah, you won’t be good when you get caught by one of King’s traps because you’re not watching your step!’

Chase rolled his eyes and turned to face Angus, walking backwards at the same time as he smiled.

‘Oh relax! You said they’re not dangerous and besides, I have you! What trouble could I possibly get int–AHH!’

This, is what we in the storytelling business like to call ironic. Angus gaped as he watched Chase get suddenly suspended upside down in the air, courtesy of a hidden rope loop catching his ankle, tightening, and triggering the hidden pulley system camouflaged by the nearby oak tree. After a few second of shocked shrieking and flailing, Chase realised the trap was indeed harmless, and now hung limply in the air with a red face as Angus burst into cackles. The survival expert’s mirth was full of snorts as he grinned at Chase, his eyes bright as he remarked.

‘What was that you were saying–?’

‘Don’t even start! Goddamnit– can you just get me down, please!’

Chase tried reaching up towards the rope around his ankle, but unfortunately he was nowhere near flexible enough – nor did he have a lot of stamina, since he and Angus had been out and walking for two hours already! He grunted for probably around five minutes, before once again going limp and pouting at Angus. Angus, who for the whole five minutes had not stopped laughing, had also decided to whip out his phone and take pictures.

‘This is too good. Yep, these are definitely ones for the fridge–’

‘Angus!’

Angus snorted at Chase’s indignant, embarrassed voice, and took a few more snaps before putting his phone away. To Angus, this was the most perfectly hilarious thing that could have happened and he was loving it. He came up to Chase, tilting his head down at him as he shook his head and tutted.

‘I warned you to be careful but nope, you just had to go and walk backwards of all things.’

Angus smirked, making Chase’s cheeks redden even more from the teasing.

‘Now look atcha, all strung up with nowhere to go… and out here in the wilderness, anything could getcha.’

Angus said… and something in his voice sent a little chill down Chase’s spine. Chase squirmed as Angus started to pace around him, circling him as his smile got bigger and bigger, and the glint in his eyes told Chase that something mischievous was brewing in his mind.

‘Angus… Angus c’mon, just get me down! I’ll watch where I’m going now, I promise!’

He said, but there was no dissuading the mischief that had taken root in Angus now. It was the same with every Septic ego – if there was even a flicker of mischief in their minds, it would grow into a raging fire, no matter what. Angus�� dark brown eyes flicked over Chase’s stomach, which was pretty exposed thanks to gravity making Chase’s t-shirt slip down.

‘I think you need to learn what happens when you don’t keep your wits about you in the wild.’

Angus reached out and ran his fingers along Chase’s tummy, before treating the soft skin to a flurry of scratches, drawing out a surprised squeal from the suspended dad. He burst into giggles, his dangling arms flailing wildly (and with little effect).

‘AHH! Nononohoho nohoho tihihickles noho tihihickles!’

Thanks to the might of gravity, and the un-mightiness of Chase’s limbs, kept him helpless to the tickly onslaught, which Angus found utterly delightful. He gasped in mock shock, eyebrows knitting together with faux concern as his fingers continued their dance.

‘Oh no, you’re not ticklish are you?’

Angus’ blunt nails were the star of this tickly show so far, their scrapes coaxing out sweet snorts from Chase through his giggle fit.

‘Anguhus plehehehease! Thihihis ihihisn’t fahahair!’

‘Listen man, the wilderness isn’t fair! And when you don’t watch your step then you gotta pay the consequences!’

‘Nahahaha! Lehehet mehehehe goho yohohou ahass!’

Chase retorted, and made one last ditch attempt to grapple with Angus, but the survival hunter merely chuckled and moved so he was stood behind him. Chase squealed when Angus wrapped his arms around his middle from behind so he could keep on tickling, now pinching the flesh of his stomach.

‘Oooh you almost got me there! Too bad you’re stuck huh?’

Angus teased, snickering as he gave Chase’s bellybutton a sneaky boop, earning him a cute yelp. Then Chase felt like he was being electrocuted when Angus’s nails swept to toy at his ribs with tweaks and flutters – he let out an initial howl of laughter before descending into cackles, his body wriggling like a fish on a line.

‘STAHAHAHAP OHOHO GAHAD NAHAHAT THEHERE!’

Chase babbled. Angus grinned, and lowered his voice playfully as he stroked his nails back and forth in-between his ribs.

‘Y’know, this is pretty entertaining. Maybe instead of camping we should keep you like this, then your kids could have fun tickling you to smithereens!’

I think it’s safe to say that Chase’s face was fully magenta. The most flustering image appeared in his head, a compilation of the memories of every time his kids had ganged up on him and tickled him (usually so they could get pizza, or ice cream… or both). They always found his tickle spots with their little fingers, and their delighted giggles were always so infectious! Chase knew he’d never survive if they tickled him whilst he was like this!

‘NONONOHOHO OHOHO GOHOHOD IHI’D DIHIHIE!’

Chase face was screwed up with his mirth as Angus laughed, now tracing little circles against Chase’s topmost ribs.

‘Naahhh we’d keep you hydrated and full of snacks. I bet you could go for hours.’

‘OHMYGOHOD YOHOHOU’RE EHEVIL!’

Angus laughed again. It was a deep, warm sound, the kind that would soothe you to sleep by a campfire in spring, under normal circumstances. For Chase right now it was an entirely flustering sound, and he knew it meant something completely and utterly mean was about to happen. At this point Angus’s fingertips were hovering at the base of Chase’s armpits, which were still covered by his t-shirt. Angus slowly came around to stand in front of him, and he was wearing a grin of such wickedness that it made Chase tremble.

‘Oh you haven’t seen evil yet my friend…’

Chase’s eyes widened, and he squeaked as his t-shirt was yanked down further. Angus had it so it covered Chase’s face, effectively blindfolding him whilst at the same time revealing his armpits properly. Angus smiled and cracked his knuckles nice and close to Chase’s head, enjoying how he whined at the sound.

‘This is evil.’

Angus reached out with his pointer fingers, and used them to scratch furiously in Chase’s hollows, making the man jolt and shriek with bright, hysterical laughter. I ought to say that the sound made the birds flee from the trees or made the squirrels scamper and hide, but the nature here was well-accustomed to human mirth, and so continued with all its merry chirps. Meanwhile Chase was squealing, mainly due to the fact that not being able to see was driving him crazy!

‘OHOHO MY GAHAHAD THAHAHAT’S SOHOHO BAHAHAD!’

‘Ooohhh the wilderness has really got you now!’

Angus replied, his grin wide and practically feral now.

‘NOHOHO IHIHIT HAHASN’T YOHOU HAHAVE!’

Chase retorted, his voice reaching higher and higher pitches as he laughed and laughed.

‘Are you sure? Why don’t you tell me what you see?’

‘SCREHEHEW YOHOHOU!’

Angus chuckled, and his voice slipped into a gravelly tone once again as he added all his deft fingertips to Chase’s armpits. He adopted the “light and fast” technique, keeping his strokes light whilst his fingers moved with a pace that would easily break the sound barrier.

‘Careful Chase. The wilderness doesn’t take too kindly to being insulted.’

‘AHHH OKAYOKAYOKAHAHAYSHIT IHI’M SOHORRY I’M SOHOHORRY!’

Chase rambled, his voice cracking through his laughter as the sensations, which he was still utterly blind to, drove his ticklish underarms wild. His mind kept trying to deceive him that Angus had actually just unleashed thousands of tap-dancing ants into his hollows – it was maddening! Chase knew he couldn’t take much more, hence the babbled apologies. But of course, Angus wasn’t going to give him mercy that easily.

‘For what?’

‘FOHOHOR INSUHULTING YOHOU!’

Angus grinned, focusing his flutters right at the centres of Chase’s open underarms.

‘And?’

‘AHAHAND FOHOR RUHUNNING OHOFF AHAHAND NOHOT LIHIHISTENING!’

Chase wailed, making Angus chuckle fondly before he finally ceased his tickling. His fingers went to the rope around Chase’s ankle and a moment later he was free, landing in a soft pile of leaves. Chase was the most adorable giggly heap of limbs and flushed cheeks as he hurriedly pulled his t-shirt back down, his eyes watery as he hugged and rubbed at his midriff.

‘Ohoho my gohohod…’

Angus grinned, resting his hands on his hips as he looked down at Chase.

‘You alright down there explorer?’

Chase smiled and nodded bashfully, accepting Angus’s hand up with a giggle.

‘Yeah, though I don’t know how me and the kids are gonna camp if there are secret traps like that everywhere.’

Angus chuckled, and nudged his shoulder as his expression softened.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll disable them so you guys have a safe area to camp in.’

Chase smiled at him, fiddling with his fingers as he replied quietly.

‘Really?’

‘Of course buddy.’

Angus gave Chase’s shoulder a little squeeze, his voice dimming down to a warm, soothing tone.

‘The kids are never gonna forget camping with you for the rest of their lives, because you’re an epic dad and you’re gonna give ‘em the most fun time ever. I know it.’

Chase’ eyes, already watery from mirth, got even glassier from Angus’s kind words. The two hugged wordlessly for a few moments, and Angus patted Chase’s back as the dad gave him a squeeze. When they parted Chase wiped the corner of his eye and smiled.

‘Thanks man.’

Angus smiled and winked softly.

‘Anytime. Now, you wanna see a cool clearing that’s perfect for your base camp?’

‘Hell yeah!’

Chase giggled, his face lighting up at the thought of more exploring – though when they headed off this time Chase had a more careful pace, which made Angus smirk. Angus was right too. When Chase’s kids did arrive, just as the sun was setting, Chase (with Angus as his eager helper) had created the most elaborate set-up of tents, fairy lights, snack hordes, and even designed his own little guide books with blank spaces on some of the pages, so his kids could mark down their finds and have those memories forever. That is the best consequence of the wildness: memories that are guaranteed to last a lifetime.

WOOOO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DOOO, WOO LUV YOUS!!

[artemis-potnia-theron]

For the ask game, 📿, ❤️, and 🥂!

📿 - What are three things you're grateful to your deity(ies) for?

For Apollo(n): for teaching me how to listen to music. Art in general feels so much more alive and sacred since I became his devotee.

For Hekate: for teaching me how to not be afraid of the dark lol. This is a silly one but as a child I was terrified. Seeing how beautiful darkness and night actually are is something I will always be grateful to Hekate for.

For Artemis: for teaching me how to interact with nature in a meaningful way. Nature has so many of the answers to our questions, and worshiping her has taught me how to hear nature's voice much better.

❤️ - What's one memory of your practice that you reflect the most fondly on?

I have many, but recently I went on a brutal road trip with 9 - 12 hour days for almost a week 🙃 On one of the days, I was especially frustrated and exhausted. I was out walking my dog in a terrible mood (lol) and I came across this random little bit of forest in the middle of a city. There were these massive oak trees with Spanish moss and so many birds and squirrels. It felt so alive, like it was breathing as I walked through it. There was this particularly massive tree with a family of cats living inside of the trunk (I was also especially affected by the cats because I had been thinking a lot about Artemis' 'lioness' aspect). I felt her presence so strongly there. I was such a welcome little gift and reminds me how deity work makes the mundane divine.

(Some pics ⬇️)

🥂 - What is your favorite devotional act or offering to give?

For Apollo(n): Listing to especially sweeping classical music with him. That's where I feel his presence most.

For Hekate: Going for late night drives!! It's a chance to take a breather from day-to-day life and appericate the unappreciated. The beauty of abandoned buildings, nocturnal critters skittering around, the way evening air tastes...I love it all.

For Artemis: Meditating and being out in nature with her are my obvious ones. But also just living. She is breath and green and survival, and everyday that I keep myself upright feels like a devotional act for her.

Thanks for the ask my friend!!

- Taylor