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dansnaturepictures · 1 year

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Seeing Otters on Mull: A dream come true

As I have said in previous posts I am so pleased that one of the main aims of us going on the Heatherlea Spring Into Scotland tour last week was realized when on three separate occasions with five individuals in total on Tuesday and Wednesday we finally saw our first ever wild Otters. This had long been a dream of mine and was one of my greatest ever moments of watching wildlife, so I wanted to do a post focusing on it.

I probably use the cliché about dreams coming true a lot, but when it came to seeing wild Otters it was literal as on a number of nights across a few years I did dream that I saw an Otter. It was a mammal I just longed to see in the wild, and every time I woke up and it wasn’t real there was sort of a healthy dose of disappointment that I’d not seen one in the wild. With Blandford Forum and Stour Valley Nature Reserve in Dorset places we’d tried to see them before and the hope I might see one in Winchester on the River Itchen or at Blashford Lakes where my Mum’s husband saw one once most dreams were of seeing one on a river I believe. But as we sought sea Otters at this Hebridean hotspot, there was a wonderful moment last Monday on the eve of our full day in Mull on the tour where my sub conscious thought was so in sync with my ambition and in a jokey way almost on command I dreamed of seeing an Otter in the sea that night.

I was reflecting after the sightings whilst away where the dream of seeing an Otter came from. They are obviously such beautiful and fascinating mammals, an indicator of healthy water and such a captivating and charming creature. I sort of seemed to recall that after getting into birdwatching and branching into other wildlife in my teen years seeing them on TV and reading about them made me feel enticed by this iconic animal and want to see one and excited by the prospect of it. Which is true, but it also goes much deeper. I have been fascinated by them since I was a kid. I remember as a young kid knowing of Otters and being stunned when I heard they were on the River Itchen our local river (I definitely want to see them one day here too!). I found myself really drawn to Otters as a child, something fostered by our regular family visits to the New Forest Wildlife Park when it was known as the Otter and Owl Sanctuary a fantastic place allowing for such brilliant views of wonderful animals where I had some powerful early moments when I first got into birdwatching with wild birds seen there and of course I loved the owls. I recall a great visit there as I was getting into photography as a kid too which was important. I found Otters adorable.

Tuesday 11th April 2023 at the height of the sensational Scotland trip for us felt like that make or break day. I had had the idea that the place for me to finally see Otters may be Shetland somewhere I really want to go, but my Mum had Mull on the mind for it. The classic line she has mentioned a lot over the last year and a bit ahead of the trip was that when my sister asked her if she wanted a party for her 60th birthday on Monday she said no. When my sister asked what she did want she replied going to Mull to see Otters. So with the family all chipping in to make it happen, off we went. Since the trip had been booked though it became clear for me that Mull, somewhere I had always wanted to visit, gave us an amazing chance for Otters too. It had become a good spirited topic of conversation within the amazing tour group we had of would we see one. When looking over the majestic Loch Spelve on the way to Croggan my Mum and I had walked away from where we were parked for a minute to explore. I took a photo of a Pheasant and she was about to take a photo of one of the beautiful gushing rivers we were taken by all week. Then came the moment. We heard from one of the group something like “they’ve got an Otter”. I then instinctively ran back towards where the mini buses were parked, and we were in paradise as over those next few minutes we watched two Otters weaving through the water. Angelic and euphoric glimpses of these marvelous mammals, their fur kissed by the fine spring sunlight. As the whole group enjoyed these wonderful views, the pair proceeded to swim to shore allowing for exquisite views and disappear under a gorse bush where their holt may have been located. These were such glorious minutes of wildlife watching, moments that will stay with me forever as the dream was realised. I took the second, third, fourth and fifth pictures in this photoset of these two.

Following what unfolded into generally one of our best ever days of wildlife watching on Mull with White-tailed Eagles what first drew me to Mull, Golden Eagles, Razorbill, Hen Harrier, Merlin hunting meadow pipits, Great Northern Diver, Slavonian Grebe and more seen, Wednesday arrived and it was time to leave Mull after a little explore in the rain before a ferry towards midday. But two more Otter encounters awaited as firstly at Dervaig it was sensational as two more Otters were spotted out to sea. We enjoyed prolonged views of these two in the water, with one swimming to a rock which was fantastic. It was a real precious few minutes making the most of seeing wild Otters and really feeling the experience. One of the group put his scope up and we watched the Otters through an open door with it raining which was a magical and feel good moment in the trip. I took the final five pictures in this set here. And just as we were about to board the ferry at Fishnish back to the mainland another Otter was spotted. It was amazing to see this one as well, and I took the first picture in this photoset with my bridge camera of all the ones I took of the Otters from a distance some I was pleased with I felt this showed the facial characteristics and of course those teeth the best. We felt truly spoiled and lucky to have got to seen these Otters, and we have Heatherlea and our fellow tour guests to thank.

With the whole cliche but not cliche thing I thought I would end with one. Seeing my first ever wild Otters on the sensational, rugged and wild Mull in many ways represented an ending as I may well literally dream about Otters again but I won’t have that same feeling of waking up and it just being a dream having never seen one. But it is my first sighting so of course it is just the beginning. I would love to see more Otters in future and would like to see them on rivers locally. As I’ve had with birds before that were unattainable for me for a long time but we finally saw such as Lesser Spotted Woodpecker, Tawny Owl and another star of our trip Black Guillemot after finally seeing the first yeah I won’t see them every year maybe but it feels that little bit more possible to be able to see them. I like that about nature watching that there’s still always so much to see, I can’t wait to continue dreaming of Otters, but I do so now with some of the most extraordinary memories on magical Mull to relive and enjoy.

I did these two posts about the days we saw Otters: https://dansnaturepictures.tumblr.com/post/714972457668427776/11th-april-2023-mull-otters-eagles-and-more and https://dansnaturepictures.tumblr.com/post/714974057045622784/12th-april-2023-day-four-of-the-scotland-trip and this one summarising our time in Scotland: https://dansnaturepictures.tumblr.com/post/714784952556945408/round-up-of-our-trip-to-scotland-8th-15th-april

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hungerofhadarr · 1 year

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10 23 33 lets get it on

You spoil me , Mwah

Sorry these became little drabbles , that was the only way I could see answering the prompts ERM ! I wrote them in my notes app thinking they would be short but Um ! < 3 woe wall of text

10 ) The Garbage Collector.

In Novigrad, some folks pay a premium to have their trash collected every other week. Instead of having to keep and burn your own, or hope the smell of rotting food didn’t turn away customers, most tavern and inns pay whatever is demanded.

One such customer was the Chameleon.

The sun had already dipped low enough that the shadows of the stone walls and buildings draped across the streets. The last bits of sunlight slipping into the cracks wherever it can, burn orange colouring like a toddlers hand.

Waiting just beyond the front door, was Priscilla. A woven basket in her hands, the small bits of garbage they had collected strewn inside. When she saw the man come trotting down, pulling his cart behind him, she waved him down.

He just couldn’t understand.

She shook the minuscule amount in the cart, smiled, and reached to unhook a hefty coin sack from her belt.

“Oi, got any more in there?” He couldn’t help it. Gesturing toward the open door of the tavern, the outdoor performers paying little attention to the man. Priscilla paused, fingers now tracing the beading of her belt. Her other hand tucking the basket under her arm.

“You know how we are, good sir! Rare we have anything to toss!”

“Aye, but I thinks you’re forgetting something.”

Priscilla narrowed her eyes, the man stared like he had just answered her question.

“… No sir, this is all we got? Thank you for asking.” She didn’t move to offer the pouch, even with the sureness of her words. She knew this wasn’t the end of the discussion.

“So, you folks pay so much, every time we come round. And most times you have nothing for the pile. And the times you do, it’s hardly scraps.” The man, expecting an explanation, guffawed when she simply shrugged.

“Come now! I heard from the hunter that the fella Zoltan placed an order for rabbit and pheasant. Many of them, if he did not fib. So tell me, where are the carcasses?”

Priscilla seemed to pale at that, eyes widening ever so slightly. The man cocked a brow. In the encroaching darkness, their faces only half highlighted by the torches and oil lamps that the people began to light.

Almost like a whisper, Priscilla tucked her auburn hair behind her ear. Thick locs only being held back for a few moments before they slipped back to frame her face. But that was all the Man needed.

Pheasant feathers. Tied with beads and thread, an earring. An earring on an ear with a slight pointed tip to it. Now, it was the man’s turn to widen his eyes.

“Lady Callonetta, the rumours are real? I knew about your companionship, but you as well?”

“Well, my good man, will you still take my coin?”

Instead of accepting her offer of payment and to continue his route, he couldn’t help but push some more. “Does this make you Scoia’tael? Do they guard this place?”

“I’d have to join to be a member, like how you’re not in the army if you’re born in Nilfgaard. And no, not to my knowledge.”

“Is your mother human? She must be, aye?”

“Well, sure she is, but she’s not from any settlement you’d know.”

By now, Priscilla has crossed the small barrier between them, coinpouch hanging from her outstretched hand.

“So you make jewelry? Only jewelry?”

“You don’t see me wearing rib bones, do you? Everything has a purpose, these feathers were for my crafts. Now, you should take your money and go.”

When the man opened his mouth again, a different voice was heard. It came calling from the warmth of the Chameleon. When it was heard, Priscilla couldn’t help but smile.

“Oi, Kwitókwito, get inside! Or I’m gonna start stretching the hides, and the bet is still on, You hear?” Zoltan. There was a chance he was calling out to scare off the collector. Or his impatience had finally won.

Either way, it did work. The garbage man finally took his payment, hooking the sack on his own belt. Priscilla stood back, giving him ample room to maneuver the cart, sending a friendly smile his way.

Behind her, a drummer brought down his mallet on his hand drum, thunder seeing the man out.

23) Low Stakes Gambling gets Heated.

“No, no- walk me though your plays again. You couldn’t have done what you did.”

The Lodge was seen, to many who wish to discredit the sorceresses at any chance, as something dark. Scary. Mystery and an air of intrigue.

In actuality, while they did try to see how they could influence the rulers, it was to see how far they could push their agenda of protection. Pass laws to allow them easier access to owning homes and travel passes. Before they would have to take to more physical means to prove a mage should not be trifled with.

At the moment, while waiting for Kiera and Síle to show, they’d taken to Gwent.

And Phillipa was certain that Yennefer of Vengerburg- Yes, the Horsewoman of War- had cheated. It didn’t help she was giggling to herself.

“Did you check the stars before you played, my dear?” Fringilla chimed. “Maybe they would have told you how Yennefer would cheat you of five coins.”

Truly, there was no loss. But Phillipa was certain that Yennefer had played too many cards. Pushing her just over Phillipa’s score.

The blindfold she wore, the one she used to see after loosing her eyes, blinked angrily. The threads twisting and weaving to mimic actual eyes. Triss placed two drinks in front of the betting women, having been the one to refill their glasses the whole time they played.

“I’ll play you five coins if you give Yennefer the five coins?” It was a small offering, one she knew was going to fail, but she still offered it.

“Oh, don’t fret too hard, Phillipa!” Yennefer was still giggling. “I asked my magic ball how to-“ she broke into a full throated laugh, knowing she was playing into being ridiculous. So was Fringilla. Phillipa had almost puffed herself up like a bird, by that point.

“Keep it up, Yennefer! Maybe I’ll find a nice travelling band to dump you on. You can cast little shines for them. I know how you adore to travel.”

“I do! But only with people I know. And with people I can beat at cards.”

Triss, having joined Fringilla’s side, leaned in to whisper to the other woman. “Did she actually?”

Fringilla smiled, dimples pulling at her cheeks. “No, she just had an unruly amount of spies. I think Phillipa lost count.” She whispered back. They both paused, seeing the two now trying to play the other for a fool, Phillipa starting to have a ghost of a smile on her face. The others must just be down the road now, as well.

“Hm, I need to check on the curry.” Still whispering, like their meal was a secret, Triss changed subjects. “If I overcook the lamb I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“That you will, I’ve been looking forward to this meal. Go, start plating. They’ll forget about their tryst here once they hear plates.”

As Triss moved towards the kitchen once more, one of the woman make a comment about fortune telling. And both of them finally broke into a fit of laugher.

33) Investigating an Abandoned Place

“Elven.” Stated Lambert.

“Elven.” Echoed Eskel.

They’d found the carving of the head of a Griffin on a rock a few steps away from the entrance to the ruin. If Geralt’s tracking was right, Coën had been here. Now, they needed to see if he was still here. Though, based on the flooded floor from last nights rain, Geralt wouldn’t be surprised if he had left during the night.

Now that they were there, they slowed their investigation and began… poking around.

“Burial tomes are still solid. No man had been down here. No treasure hunter or historian or… Whatever.” Lambert had only checked to relight the fire, stood high enough the pooling water couldn’t reach it, one that had been lit the night before.

“Those are sitting tomes, aren’t they? You don’t see those all too often anymore.” Eskel’s voice echoed across the room, his hands brushing the remains of herb bundles. His hands paused their movements, finding something of importance amongst the dried, fragile remains.

Geralt paused his investigation of, what looked to be, a set of once cleaned deer furs. Eying the knelt form of the larger man, he waited to see what he had discovered.

“Geralt, could you come handle this? It’s not mine to hold.” He stated it matter of factly, standing and taking a step away from it. Lambert, now curious, pulled away from his own investigation and moved to join Eskel. Long legs crossing the distance quickly. He seemed to stumble when he noticed what Eskel found, though he would deny it later.

Geralt took a moment to wonder, imagine what he would find. A dagger of lore, a headdress in perfect condition, beading work that rivalled any living hand.

When he did finally catch a glance, he understood why neither Eskel or Lambert had picked it up. A sacred bundle.

They could recognized it easily, Eskel was their Fire Keeper and Lambert was usually the dancer. Geralt was the Bundle Keeper.

When they were younger, Eskel had asked Geralt to be his Bundle Keeper. A few years after that, they both pursued Lambert and asked if he would be willing to participate. He already seemed to know Red River jigs, and was quick to learn Fancy dance on top of that.

Now, the three of them watched the forgotten sacred bundle like it could run away. Geralt took a moment, deep breath in then out, before kneeling to pick it up.

“Do you think it belonged to one of the buried?” Lambert offered, after a moment of quiet.

“Sad thing, then, it wasn’t passed down.” Eskel shifted, the noise of gravel and water grinding beneath his heel.

“We should burn it. For them, I think.” Geralt looked over his shoulder, eyeing the fire by the tomes.

There was no argument amongst the three.

A moment before they finished their setup, Lambert called everyone’s attention.

“Did Coën miss the bundle? Weird we haven’t found a note.”

Geralt offered, “We haven’t been looking for his traces, have we?”

Eskel finished, “The bundle was buried in the remains of the herbs. I think he did that.” almost forgot questions here !

#the witcher #hehe haha they r indigenous #Zoltan is calling Priscilla Woodpecker in Mohawk btw < 3 #do i gotta tag the characters . hng #triss is here bc the original work is sorta on the fence with their portrayal of romani woman so i take her and i fix her #your biases won' t win here andrzej #I can see what you were doing #ok . tag time #zoltan chivay #Priscilla #fringilla vigo #triss merigold #yennefer of vengerberg #phillipa eilhart #geralt of rivia #lambert #eskel #get fuckijg indigenous with it

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queen-of-confusion13 · 11 months

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Instant coffee

My husband didn't have the dregs of yesterday's coffee to warm up this morning, so he made a cup of instant. My parents used to drink it. Mom had a whistling teapot on the stove many times a day to get a cup of java. I saw how my dad got coffee at work. He went into the lab area, turned on the hot water in the sink and let it run until it was warm. Then he made a cup of instant coffee with the tap water, drank it down at once, and went on with his day. Super yuck.

They had instant coffee when I was a kid, but before that they had coffee percolators. Kind of like a Mr. Coffee, but instead of just running the water through once after it is heated up it circulates in the pot with a bubbling, gurgling sound recycling the water through the grounds until every last bit of flavor was extracted. It was a long process, so instant coffee must have been like a miracle drink.

My grandparents used to go to the mall that was very close to our house. My grandpa would always be sitting there with all the other old men on the benches in the middle while their wives were off shopping. The husbands sat there so they could watch all the bags and their wives could easily find them. The mall was within easy walking distance across a wild field that looked like a nature preserve. A neighbor used to regularly go pheasant hunting in it. We would go to the mall with our allowance. Every week I would get my quarter and pay my sister back the quarter I owed her from last week, and then inevitably borrow it again. She missed out on a lot of interest, but it made me hate being in debt, so it worked out in the end.

One day my grandparents were Christmas shopping in the mall, and they asked me if there was anything my mom wanted or could use. That instant coffee came to mind and Mr. Coffee was invented when I was 10 years old, so I thought maybe she would like regular coffee without having to drag out the company percolulator. I thought it was a great idea, but my mom just about clobbered me for suggesting it because of the expense. The new stuff is always highly priced until all the competition drives the price down. But, she got it, and the new fangled cross between time-saving and full flavor brew cycles was created.

It is interesting how the old-fashioned stuff is replaced with new modern stuff. Then the next generation comes along and discovers "new" vintage stuff that rocks their world and wonder if the old people know about it. Ever had a kid tell you about a new band they discovered whose album wore out the needle on your record player 40 years ago?

It all depends on your perspective and that has a lot to do with age. Growing old is interesting. New inventions and technologies are coming at an exponential rate, and AI (artificial intelligence) is just increasing that speed. It is impossible to stay up to date on everything as this world is constantly getting more complicated. "The good old days" when you knew the "game" and could play comfortably are gone. Now everything is stressed filled and manic, and the fakes and clones are rampant. It is almost impossible to know what the truth is. There are pros and cons to these inventions. Many miraculous healings have been afforded by the advance in the medical field. Yet, the detriment to society can be clearly seen in the evil that has been afforded with the instant information available on the internet.

My dad knew I love math, so he got me a tiny calculator when they were new. It had the basic 4 functions and an equals button. Plus, minus, multiply, divide, total, and a memory button. That's all you needed to advance from that big honking calculating machine that sat on my grandpa's desk in his basement to a miracle in instant computing. And now we walk around with an entire computer in our pocket, or more likely in the hand. If my mom could see my phone today she wouldn't even know what it is.

Along with the advances has come real safety issues. I recently was communicating with some hackers who run NewsMax. It came to my attention that I was being observed. They could see what I was doing and hear what I was saying. I saw stuff like that on tv before, but never figured it would happen to me. My discomfort of a horrible picture being out there on the internet was alleviated somewhat by the comments I had already heard about my appearance by some really rude people. My best advice to you is physically cover any lens that is on any device in your home. And disable the microphones. These are hackers, so even that is not enough, but it will help somewhat. The only way to stop them is to disconnect your internet when you aren't using it. Like that ever happens.

I don't like cameras that can have a photo sent worldwide in a nanosecond. All those old first photos that were taken by a guy on a ladder under a blanket saying to stay still the entire time while taking the photograph are gone. No longer do you have to turn in negatives to get copies of a picture to share. I am kind of glad that the worst picture of my life is out there. People can share and talk about it all they want. Without even having to pick up a pen and paper to contact those far away. I can't say that this is an improvement in my life, but that's the scene today.

However, there is a positive note. Acceptance of reality isn't easy. My reality is that in order to preserve relationships in the past few years, the ability to discuss dangers to our nation were prohibited. Not being able to discuss politics and then watching J6 caused a discord in my mind. Giving up freedom of speech voluntarily just to be accepted is why that horrible picture is good. Politics is a divisive topic. There needs to be a mutual yearning to seek truth. Even if people stand on seperate sides of an issue, it can still be discussed in a civil manner with mutual respect. First you have to seek and acknowledge the truth of the situation, then you can discuss positions and solutions. Refusing to see the truth will shut down communication and destroy relationships.

I wonder if this is how people were when Hitler was rising to power. More worried about a happy, carefree life in a post WWI era where only the positive thoughts could be discussed. What happened to the people who were aware of the impending Holocaust and whose hearts were screaming for others to open their eyes to Hitler's evil ways? I bet they were told not to talk about politics. How many times did they get silenced just to hear people say later that they never had a clue what was coming? Because they chose to close their eyes. Six million Jews killed. I bet people were silenced all the while Hitler rose in power. They probably looked like my horrible picture in their own way. This is a good reminder for me to be true to myself and not allow myself to be silenced. I will never force political talk as it is fruitless and will cause harm. However watching evil grow hurts. And those who are strong enough see it in real time and to seek the truth should not be concerned by those who stifle them. They just need to find like minded people so they don't feel so isolated, abandoned, and hopeless. That is a recipe for misery. It is just like instant coffee with a shot of guilt thrown in. Yuck!

I made mocha mint coffee this morning in the knock off Mr. Coffee. our daughter gave us. Things have come full circle. It is a good balance between flavor, technology, time, and expense while providing a cup of coffee I like. No sugar or cream. Just black. A little reality with some flavor diversion. The only other flavor I like is double mocha. Full on plain coffee is bitter and horrible. I guess that's what people feel about politics. This may be the dawn of a new understanding.

Lord, thank you for opening my eyes to the good lessons that come from difficulties. Romans 8:28 is one of my favorite verses. "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." Just don't give up.

Hmmmm, I wonder if they were told not to discuss politics or religion before Jesus was crucified....I need a pause button for my mind. Time for that coffee ;)

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sussex-nature-lover · 1 year

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29 January 2023

Big Garden Birdwatch Weekend

In England, the RSPB (Royal Society for the Protection of Birds) hosted its annual birdwatch this weekend. The idea is that you sit and observe and record the highest number different bird species in your garden at any one time over the hour and when all the entries are assimilated there’s a quick snapshot of the bird population. Over time they can see how it’s varying.

It’s unusual for our feeding area to be quiet, but we did the birdwatch quite early today and the birds were all hungry so they flocked to the trays, hanging feeders and the food scraps that were out.

We also had two Great Spotted Woodpeckers, two Marsh Tits, Anton the male Pheasant and a Nuthatch. I know are numbers are high, particularly for Robin (the resident four all in relative harmony) and the fact a small flock of Long Tailed Tits stopped by. As usual for us, we buck the trend for House Sparrows and are always awash with Blue Tits. I saw on the Next Door app that even in the next village they’re bemoaning a lack of Sparrows. I think a lot of birds love the big line of trees at the side of our garden, the row of Poplars interspersed with thick conifers provides a very safe habitat and the sheer amount of trees and hedges round here means that there’s plenty of space for all comers. The Starlings like a particular hedge around the decking to use as a staging post and nesting place between the feeders and the woods.

I didn’t take any photos this morning because I was too busy watching and counting, but here are some from through the week.

There are currently four Robins visiting at any one time, although so far I’ve only managed to capture two at the same time.

They like to perch on the palm stumps and the bird bath and feed either from the trays or the bird table. Sometimes they have a go at the hanging feeders, but don’t find it easy.

As usual the Starlings squabble an awful lot at the feeders, so I didn’t get clear shots of the whole gang. I’m always conflicted by Starlings because they absolutely plough through so much food and put other birds off, but they’re beautiful and funny, if awfully noisy.

The Great Spotted Woodpeckers eat an awful lot too and stash suet away, but they’re much more amicable with other birds. The only fall outs are with their own kind, particularly when the pair will bring a youngster each to feed - the male and female take responsibility for their own juvenile and it can become very competitive when they arrive at the same time.

Female GSW, as shown by the lack of red marking on her head or nape of the neck

House Sparrow and Blue Tits in the sunshine - what there was of it, it didn’t last

male and female House Sparrows

Quizzical

And in a turnaround from watching the birds, we do quite often end up as the subject of their observations

This is Anton the Pheasant, who’s spent a lot of time this week befriending Inspector Pritchard the Peacock (after a dodgy start) and also a long spell watching us. He was up there for about an hour and I wonder what he made of what he saw? Either interested, or failing miserably at sending subliminal messages to go to the back door and dish out snacks! It was quite a surprise, usually it’s either Pritchard up there or various Blackbirds, with Sparrows and Tits amongst the branches.

I’ll look back when the results are published, but mid morning today this was the national count - you can see that the species in our garden are absolutely typical, except that the Goldfinch didn’t visit during our selected hour. We lacked Goldfinch in the garden for years, so that’s not so surprising - the ones who do visit live next door I think and just nip over here occasionally...most likely as soon as we move away from the windows 😁

*Update mid afternoon on Monday over 5½ million birds have been counted...I wonder what the final figure will be?

#garden birdwatching birds nature pheasant woodpecker

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hollymarlow · 1 year

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Little one broke this key, by pulling it when having some big feelings. It won't turn now, and we can't get into the garden. You'd think I'd be a bit annoyed about that, but actually it was helpful. He can't nap in his bed now that he's given up the dummy, but still needs one every few days or becomes slightly terrifying! 😳 He nods off in the car if we time it right, but doesn't want to go in the car for no reason, so I have been having to get creative and come up with reasons why he has to come with me in the car. Last week, we went "to see if his old nursery still looks the same from the outside." The week before, we went looking for pheasants. 😂 We've also been out looking for planes, helicopters, etc. He's getting wise to it and my ruse attempts were all hotly rejected, then I saw the bent key and it was perfect! He couldn't deny that we had to go and get another key cut! WIN. And extra win, because he must think I handled an annoying situation calmly. 😇😂👍 And as he nodded off, I'm going to say the key cutting place was closed, so we'll try again in a few days! 🤥 MUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA! May all your problems be solutions in disguise! ☺️ . #funnyhowthingsworkout #perspective #parenthumor #parentinghumor #parentingwithhumor #parenthumour #parentinghumour #parentingwithhumour #humour #humor #momhumor #mumhumour #momhumour #parentingmemes #parenting #adoption #adoptivefamily #parentingstruggles #parentstruggles #parentingrealities #realparenting #honestparent #honestmom #realmotherhood #honestmotherhood #mumstruggles #momstruggles #thestruggleisreal #napappreciation https://www.instagram.com/p/CoAKPo7sjpH/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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cgasue · 2 years

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Rainy River Experience

On May 24, Jim, Diane and I set off on another birding marathon. This time we were heading way north and almost as far west as you can go in Ontario. What an experience!

A few statistics from our 18 days away from home:

We saw 182 different birds species, 3 moose, 2 bears, 2 skunks and 2 chipmunks, many deer and one newborn fawn

9 of the 182 species were lifers for me and 19 were year birds

We drove almost 6,000 km (not the best time to do this considering gas prices!)

We started our trip by going to Carden Alvar Provincial Park in search of a Yellow Rail and a Loggerhead Shrike. No luck there but we did see some new birds and get some awesome photos.

Highlights included: American Bittern, Upland Sandpiper and a Wilson’s Snipe.

We then headed to Sudbury where we met up with Jeff Skevington and Vincent Fyson and birded along the north shore of Lake Superior all the way west to Rainy River. Diane and I learned a ton from these two about birding and Jim experienced a whole new way of car birding the back roads (we are sending the car in next week for a complete detailing!). We were up very early most mornings and put on lots of mileage both on the car and on our bodies (One day I had almost 25,000 steps!!). We visited many sewage lagoons and walked many kilometres with our binoculars, scopes and camera equipment in hand.

We had a target list of birds for along the way and managed to get most of them with a couple of surprises added on top. A very enjoyable and productive trip!

An example of the types of roads we travelled on and bridges we crossed:

On June 3 and 4 we joined the OFO Rainy River trip led by Dave Milsom and Colleen Reilly. Dave and Colleen took us to more sewage lagoons and more gravel roads as we searched for the Rainy River specialties. We had a great group of birders with amazing ears and eyes helping find the birds and look for rarities.

Some of the highlights of our Rainy River experience. (See the Big Year 2022 Photo Gallery for more photos)

Yellow-headed Blackbird:

Three-toed Woodpecker:

Connecticut Warbler:

Sharp-tailed Grouse - we had fun watching these birds perform their mating danced in a specific area of a field called a lek. Very cool!

Great Gray Owl:

Everyone has been very encouraging and supportive to the Beak Seekers during our big year.

I had been hoping to reach Big Year Bird #300 while in Rainy River but only made it to #298. I was presented (by Dave Archbell) with a t-shirt on our last day in Rainy River but he had to make a last minute adjustment when he realized that I wouldn’t hit the #300.

We had a more leisurely drive home from Rainy River and stopped a few times to enjoy the scenery.

Our last overnight stop was in Gore Bay on Manitoulin Island to see Chris and Lisa in their new home. On our way to the ferry, we found Big Year Bird #299 (a pair of Ring-necked Pheasants).

Chris, Lisa and Gramma Sue

Once we reached Tobermory, we started the home stretch with a quick stop at Isaac Lake to look for a Least Bittern (no luck) and say hello to Kiah Jasper and wish him luck as he was starting his trip to Rainy River the next day.

We are happy to be home now and relaxing a little although when I started to write this yesterday, it was 6 am and we were already on our way to Simcoe County to hopefully see Big Year Bird #300.

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wangxianslillotus · 3 years

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Au where Wei WuXian doesn't go to Nightless city after Wen Qing, Wen Ning and the remaining Wens. Instead he runs away with A-Yuan and the granny. They stay hidden for years in a humble house in between a forest and a river at the border of Qinghe Nie and LanLing, away from Yiling.

Wei Ying tries to stay away from the towns after hearing about the burial mounds being attacked, of course that there would be those who search for the stigean seal, "That Yiling laozu, he disappeared in the night! Who knows when he's going to appear again to cause more trouble!!" He hears, "He's preparing to take revenge, he hasn't learned from the last time!!" . But he doesn't want revenge, he just wants to raise A-Yuan. After that, he knows that he has to hide, and ends up avoiding all contact and interactions with the world, but he remains doing his research in demonic cultivation, enough to train and develope new things that they will need for protection, but never enough for it to attract any attention.

Granny passes away after taking care of her boys, and when they find themselves in the winter out of provisions such as food and others, Wei WuXian makes his trip to the market for the first time in almost seven years. He wears a disguise, but he can never be completely sure that they are safe. Of course, he takes his son along, because he can't leave him alone. He's never sure.

A-Yuan has come with granny before, he knows the people in town, and they pretty much adore him just as the people loved Wei WuXian at the old pier market. Wei WuXian watches him and lets him lead the little trip to town with a bright smile. They buy the necessary things for a couple of cold months, and go back home at night. But as they are leaving, they catch a glimpse of gold robes in one of the streets. Wei WuXian drags A-Yuan to a dark alley to hide, until the cultivators of LanLing pass by without noticing them. After that, they don't go to the town anymore for a while.

A-Yuan doesn't ask, he never does, he respects that his father has a very mysterious past that he wants to hide, to forget if possible, and that if something happens, he will have to run away with the stigean seal. He knows that, but being aware of the pain that crosses his father's eyes is hard. But he doesn't ask even when Wei WuXian starts to train him to be a cultivator, not just for fun anymore.

He developed a golden core very young, but never used it for anything more than some night hunts at the near forest and protection. Now, they are preparing just in case those golden robed people got closer, he knows that much.

He practices archery, calligraphy too ("A-Yuan, even if dad can't write like he draws, you should do it properly. Maybe I can't make it look good, but I know how it should look.") and his father lends him his sword from time to time, for him to learn how to transfer energy on the blade, how to fly, and how to retrieve it if he sent it flying for attack. Suibian accepts him, almost knowing that he's his owner's son. Wei WuXian teaches him everything he knows about cultivation, that is not little knowledge, on the contrary, Wei Yuan ends up learning so many things, even about different sects. His father teaches him about the Lan Sect and Jiang Sect more than any others, he hears about a big library where he used to copy 3000 rules from the Lan Sect, watched closely by the most gracious man that his father has ever seen. Wei Yuan learns that his father often thinks about this Lan man, when the moon rises fully in the night sky, drinking some alcohol if they can allow it.

He learns enough demonic cultivation too, enough to prevent accidents from happening, enough not to panic, and enough to suppress the stigean seal if needed. Of course, he can't do that alone, it's only to help his father. "Never use it, A-Yuan, you know how if feels now, so you can identify it, but never use it. You can think of better ways."

He learns about talismans, more than any other Sect may even know that exist, his father is proud of that. And he is too. His father knows so many things that A-Yuan is enchanted with everything he learns. He is a good boy.

......

When A-yuan is close to become 13, Wei WuXian goes back to the town and orders a sword for him, one similar to suibian in terms of speed and weight, but black. It was going to be ready in a month and a half, the shopkeeper said. And it was going to be expensive. But it was worth it, Wei Ying knew, anything for his little boy. Besides, winter didn't had many hunting opportunities, it was a good timing.

When the time passed, Wei WuXian took A-Yuan with him to the town. They sold some talismans during the day, bought food and some warmer clothes that would be useful since there was starting to snow already in the forest, and then, they stopped by the smithy. Wei WuXian gave his son an excited smile.

When A-Yuan received the sword, he was more than happy. He was jumping like he was five again, hugging his father like he would never let go, so happy that he cried a little. Wei WuXian laughed at him for that, but he was equally happy just by watching his son. He knew it was worth it.

On the following days, Wei WuXian trained him with his sword. He couldn't use Suibian properly since he couldn't transfer it any energy, and using resentful energy didn't work at all on the blade (he had tried, it didn't went well.) But he could use it as a normal sword, and he was good at it. Better than the good ones. They sparred until his father said it was good enough to go for a nighthunt in the following days.

Little did they know that they would split, running from a Yao that had really long claws, just as large as Suibian, and creept at fast speed. It was a dangerous one, climbing the trees and jumping at them from above. The beast followed A-Yuan at first, be could hear it growling right behind him. The boy ran away at his father's order, and the beast got distracted after a while thanks to his father's music. A-Yuan ran until stopping at the entrance of a cave, listening attentively to the dizi in the distance, just in case he heard another order from Wei WuXian.

The snow was freezing his feets, and he was already wet to the knee, some of his back too because he had rolled over avoiding the Yao's claws. The dizi went silent abruptly, but it wasn't always a bad thing. It probably meant his father had killed the beast using resentful energy. He waited for about ten minutes before deciding he would go back, but as he was about to go the way he came from, he heard steps behind.

Too close to avoid to be seen, too close to run away successfully. A-Yuan turned around, ready for a fight when he saw a boy his age, dressed in white, with a headband matching the could embroidery of his robes. A Lan. It was a Lan. They couldn't find his father.

Turns out, it was a friendly Lan, that gave him a look and then proceeded to explain that he was lost. "We were nighthunting, but I got lost following the tracks of a Yao." He had said. "Honestly, I fell into a pit when I was running away, and when I got out, it was gone. Have you seen it, perhaps?" But A-Yuan lied, said that he hadn't. That he was fighting a ghost. The ones that didn't let traces behind. At this, the Lan shivered, murmuring something about hating ghosts, and A-Yuan couldn't help it, he laughed hard. He was absolutely stressed from running, ten minutes more would probably help his limbs, he thought.

The Lan got flustered at his laugh, not used to such displays of emotions from others, but he ended up laughing too. They talked for an hour or so, until A-Yuan realized that his father must have been searching him like a madman. He apologized to the Lan boy, grabbed his sword, and run away in a hurry, leaving a very confused cultivator behind. When he arrived his home, it was almost sunrise already. Wei WuXian was waiting for him in front of the door. When he saw him appear, he run towards him and hugged him hard.

Again, A-Yuan didn't ask. He knew his father's pain without need of explanation. He hugged back, letting the bad feelings go at once. They slept side by side that night, like when A-Yuan was a toddler, holding all their memories together. Keeping them warm.

.......

A couple of months later, the spring came back, and A-Yuan was more than happy to help his father with the orchard. They played in the river too, hunted some pheasants and rabbits that started to reappear from their hibernation, and Wei WuXian allowed A-Yuan to go alone to the town. He knew it was a big thing, because his father thought of his petition for about a week before answering. He had to be careful, "there are really bad people out there, my radish." But if he could nighthunt, he could take some walks around the market and enjoy tasteful food once in a while, he thought.

In one of his expeditions to the town, he met that Lan boy again. "This one is called Lan JingYi, since you ran away last time I couldn't tell you that, but we spoke about good food, and you mentioned this inn." He said. And A-Yuan smiled. He didn't say his name, but it was enough that the owner of the inn saw him, invited them both to take a seat and eat, calling him "A-Yuan". He had to be aware from his last name.

Nonetheless, he shared with Lan JingYi a good meal, happy when his new friend complimented his good taste with food.

It was not the last time they met. Lan JingYi usually appeared at the town from time to time after sending him a letter to that inn, that the owner gave him when he arrived the town. He was happy to have a friend, so Wei WuXian allowed it. It was good that his son had a dependable friend. Even if it was dangerous, he thought that some meals and sporadic letters couldn't do any harm to anyone. As long as A-Yuan was happy, he would comply. He wanted his son to have everything.

Time passed by quickly, they knew. They sold more talismans at the market, nighthunted anything and everything that they could, shared stories about their days when they were apart, ate delicious foods at the inn sometimes, and trained. They trained a lot.

In was when they turned 15 that Lan JingYi gave A-Yuan an invitation to study at Cloud recesses.

And Wei WuXian had to decide new plans.

#mdzs #the untamed #wei wuxian #mo dao zu shi #lan wangji #wei ying #lan zhan #mdzs fanfiction #mdzs au #lan shizui #wei yuan #lan jingyi #cloud recesses #burial mounds #yiling patriarch #lanling jin #yunmeng jiang #gusu lan #qinghe nie

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to-hell-and-beyond · 3 years

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“The Villainess Knight and His Princess”

Eli “Hawk” Moskowitz x Reader

Requested: Yes : No

Request: I love your Hawk/Eli imagines sm hi!!! Also random request I thought of: imagine Hawk coming to you after a fight and you doctor his wounds and such and just keeps flirting which you like play off but then he reveals he’s dead serious about crushing on the reader?? You don’t have to write this if you don’t want to, but just an idea lol 😂😂😂 ok bye! Thank you for being an awesome writer!-Anon

Sorry this took soooo long! I’ve been having a couple of hard weeks so I’ve been trying my hardest to come out with content.

Summary: Over the past few months your old aquanince has come to you asking for you to fix his wounds The whole time he continues to shamelessly flirt with you, what happens if he goes a little to far?

Words: 1043

You sat on your bed as you read through your favorite book. You’ve read it about 100 times now, but it always gave you this feeling of joy inside whenever you read it. It was about a Villiness Knight who is later found out to be a pheasant boy that got picked on in his village. The princess decides that she is going to find this Villiness Knight and put an end to his villiness crimes, but instead she falls in love. It’s a story about love and forgiveness.

You smiled to yourself as you got to your favorite part. The Princess and the Villainess Knight were getting to know each other by the campfire. Your thoughts were interrupted though, by the sound of something heavy hitting your window. You jumped out of your bed wondering what you should do. Should you run and go tell your parents? Should you open the window? The universe so graciously didn’t let you finish these thoughts as the window opened to reveal Hawk.

“H-hey Y/n.” He said as he coughed. You looked at him to see he had cuts and bruises all over his arms and legs. He had a hand on his abdomen and looked like he had just been chased by a bunch of killer dogs. You rushed to help him inside and helped pull his body towards your bathroom sink. You sat him on the counter as you looked through your cabinets for a first aid kit.

The two of you had been...friends before he became Hawk. Well, you wouldn’t exactly call yourself friends, more like acquaintances. You didn't like the people at your school, all there were rich girls and obnoxious boys. So you would find yourself sitting at Eli and Demitri’s table. You never talked, you would just read as they talked to each other about the newest comic. After his transformation to Hawk he had begun to flirt with you all the time. You didn’t think anything of it then, and you still don’t.

“What happened to you this time?” You asked. This wasn’t the first time the all famous Mohawk boy barged into your room and asked you to help stitch him up. You never asked what really happened, not caring about the Karte War that was happening in your town. But ever since he had made amends with Demitri you’ve been curious.

“Thought maybe if I ruff myself up a bit you would kiss me better.” You glared at him, you alway hated when he came inside your home and started to flirt. It was embarrassing, and well you knew it was all just a joke...and you didn’t want it to be.

“In your dreams. Now this is going to sting so don't yell, my parents are downstairs.” You’ve learned from the numerous times he has come here, that he screams when you try to disinfect his cuts. It’s almost gotten you caught a few times.

“They're all done.” He smiled at you as you began to clean up the counter.

“You're my hero now.” He winked at you as you sighed. Your heart is always beating fast every time he says one of his flirtatious lines. But at the same time you knew he said the exact same thing to every girl out there.

“Can you kiss me all better Doc?” He asked as your hand on the towel beside you formed into a fist. How can he just say things like that? Doesn't he know that you don't like it? That you wish you were the only one he said these kinds of stuff to? Was he that much of an idiot?

“Y/n?” He asked softly as he saw your frown and your heavy heart. He never had wanted to hurt you. He really, really liked you more as friends and he wanted the both of you to be together. He never knew you didn’t like his flirting.

“I’m sorry if I offended you.” You both sat in silence, waiting for the other to restart the conversation.

“I really like you Y/n, as more than a friend. I know that you think that I'm just being a flirty idiot but I really like you. I'm dead serious, I want to be with you.” You looked at him but kept your mouth shut. What if he was lying to make you feel better?

“I’m not lying Y/n, I-I think I love you.” You felt tears in your eyes as your breathing softened. He really was being serious. He actually really wanted to be with you! All this time you thought he was just being a jerk, he actually cared for you a lot.

“My parents are probably going to come up and check one me soon...How does 4 at that Taco place down the street on Saturday sound?” You asked as helped him off the counter.

“Like a dream come true Babe.” He winked at you again and you laughed. You helped him walk all the way towards your window.

“Are you sure you're okay? I can sneak you to the front door, it would be easier for you especially because of the cuts you have.” You asked in a worried tone.

“Yah I’m sure. If this taco date works out I'll have to use the window more often.” You blushed furiously as he laughed at your expression. You lightly slapped his chest as he continued to laugh.

“See you at 4.” He gave a quick salute as he began to climb all the way down your window. You watched until he got on his bike and drove off. You wanted to make sure that he was going to be alright. You actually had a chance with him now and you didn’t want to blow it.

As the sound of a motorcycle drove off, you walked towards your bed. You had made sure that there was no blood left on your bathroom counter before relaxing. You still didn’t want your parents finding out. You grabbed your book and flipped to the page you were last on and began to read again. It had looked to see that the Princess and the Villainess Knight had come tougher atlas, in true harmony.

#eli moskowitz #eli moskowitz x reader #hawk x reader #hawk #hawk x you #hawk cobra kai #cobra kai #eagle fang #demitri #demitri cobra kai #oneshot

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asweetprologue · 4 years

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Geralt decides to retire to Toussaint. He takes Jaskier with him.

Words: 4360, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Witcher

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Retirement, Getting Together, Domestic, Fluff

I promise I’m still writing stuff!! this is a soft little one shot I wrote a while ago and just cleaned up. read on tumblr below the cut!

In the end, it’s the weariness that does him in.

Once when they were both younger men, Jaskier had asked him about retirement for witchers. If they retreated to Kaer Morhen in their old age to train the new pups, or if they settled down across the Continent, or gave up the hunt to have families of their own. Geralt had snorted. “We don’t retire,” he’d said, mixing potion ingredients by the light of their camp fire. Jaskier had looked at him with wide, curious eyes. “We get old, and slow, and something kills us. We don’t - buy seaside cottages, or whatever.”

Jaskier had hummed at that, a mournful note that seemed to resonate in the air. It was unfair, Geralt had thought, that his friend managed to convey so much in such a sound while the witcher always managed to say so little. “Seems a bit unfair,” Jaskier added.

Geralt had blown out an amused breath, not quite a laugh. “That’s life, bard.”

But now, three decades and countless battles older, he just felt tired. Jaskier no longer traveled with him as frequently, and the Path was a lonely place. He and his brothers no longer met at Kaer Morhen to winter, not once Vesemir had passed. They would stop occasionally to meet up on the road, but never for too long. Even Ciri was going her own way nowadays, though he saw her the most frequently. As the years wore on, Geralt found himself visiting Oxenfurt more and more often. Itching for companionship, for a cease in the ever grinding motion of the Path. The routine that had once been a comfort was now grating.

Maybe it was time to take a break.

It was with this mentality that he turned to Jaskier on the last day of his stay in Oxenfurt and said, “Come to Toussaint with me.”

Jaskier blinked at him owlishly, the expression making him look ten years younger. These days his hair was streaked with gray at the temples, and when he chose to grow out a beard it was as silver as Geralt’s. “What’s so important in Toussaint?” he asked. They were seated at a table in the rooms Jaskier had been provided, for accepting a temporary lecturing position. The term had ended a few weeks ago, hence Geralt’s visit. Jaskier shuffled his gwent deck as he spoke, the cards weaving together like a cascade. Geralt found himself watching the bard’s slim fingers dance through the motions with an old fascination.

“I have an estate there,” he replied, pulling his gaze from the cards. He meant to look Jaskier in the eye, but a brief moment of contact with the bright cerulean had him turning his head, his heartbeat growing ever so slightly faster. It was too hard to ask this if he could see Jaskier’s face. Instead, he looked out the small window, overlooking the red tiled roofs of Oxenfurt. The city was painted a rich gold in the light of the evening sun, reflected warmly off of the river beyond the docks.

Jaskier spluttered across the table. “You have an estate? Since when?”

Geralt felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. “It was payment for a job,” he said. “There’s a vineyard, gardens. I can send word ahead for them to start renovations on the guest bedroom. Come with me,” he said again, softly. He wasn’t above begging, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to.

Jaskier looked at him with a confused but affectionate look spread across his fine features, and said, “Okay.”

Geralt sent a letter ahead to warn the staff of their plans to summer at the estate, and they began their journey to the Duchy.

It was a long journey, but not an arduous one. For once, Geralt allowed them to stick to the main roads, and at this time of year even Velen was bearable. The sweeping fields spread out around them in swaths of green and gold, punctuated here and there by defiant patches of wildflowers. Jaskier wasn’t as quick as he used to be following Geralt on the Path, but they weren’t on the Path anymore. They purchased a second horse and rode side by side at a leisurely pace. When the day grew hot, they would post up in a convenient spot of shade and let the horses graze, lunching on sun warmed bread and sweetmeats. Jaskier rambled the hours away with stories of his students and old antics at Oxenfurt, and Geralt responded with his own tales of hunts and growing up in the keep with his brothers. It was good to have another voice on the road again after months of traveling alone. It was good that it was Jaskier. Geralt had missed him. Once he wouldn’t have been able to admit it, even to himself, but it seemed silly now to hide it. A wall put up against someone who had been inside for years.

They slept beneath the stars and in cramped inns, sharing small spaces like they had for decades. It was different, Geralt thought. Something had released in his shoulders when Jaskier had agreed to come with him. They weren’t in a rush - there were no contracts to fill, no galas to play at. Jaskier’s purse was heavy from his time spent lecturing, and Geralt was able to pick up a few simple contracts as they went. Easy jobs that would put some extra coin in his pocket and lift the tension from the shoulders of the locals. But for the most part it was just the two of them, drinking sweet summer mead and browsing morning markets, getting accustomed to each other’s presence again.

Sitting across the fire from him one night as they camped, Jaskier said, “You’re different, you know.”

Geralt lifted his head from where he’d been skinning the pheasants for supper. “Hmm?”

Jaskier smiled, his eyes soft. “Well, maybe not that different.” At Geralt’s odd look, he went on. “You told me once that witchers never change. That they’re set in their ways. I think you were talking about something like your potions routine when you said it at the time, but I thought it applied to the whole of the witcher experience.”

Geralt hummed again. “It’s true. We age slowly. Get set in our habits.”

“But you changed,” Jaskier said. “I’ve seen it. After Ciri, and now, since we’ve left Oxenfurt. You’re different.”

Geralt shifted uncomfortably. They’d never been on the road together like this, just the two of them as companions. Before Geralt had been focused on the Path, and Jaskier had been cataloguing his deeds as if he were some kind of hero of legend. He knew Jaskier admired Geralt’s drive, his ability to push on towards the next contract. Maybe the bard would think less of him, knowing that he was content to leave the Path behind for so long. “I’m still me,” he said aloud.

Jaskier gave him another smile, warm and honeyed. “I know it’s you, daft man,” he said. “It’s good. To see you… put down the torch for a bit.”

Geralt wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just gave an agreeable rumble in his chest. And then, because he’d spent so long learning how to use his words around his daughter, he said, “I’m glad you’re here, Jaskier.”

A brief moment of surprise passed over Jaskier’s features, his eyes widening. Though Geralt had become better at voicing his affections over the years, he knew that the bard was always taken aback by the behavior. After a second Jaskier’s smile became a grin, and Geralt felt something in him relax even further. “I’m glad to be here, my friend. You know I can’t resist an adventure.”

They arrived in Toussaint quickly after that, both eager to end their days on the road. The countryside spread out around them slowly transformed from the muted colors of the north into the vibrant greens, purples and reds of the vineyards and forests. Geralt always forgot how stunning the Duchy was, with its colorful houses and flashy clothes. For once Jaskier fit in with the crowd flawlessly; it would take more than a bright doublet to stand out in Toussaint. Geralt had always liked it here. The peasants tended to be less prejudiced against non-humans, witchers included, and the knights he’d met always treated him as a brother in arms rather than pest control. The winters were mild and the summers sweet, and the wines were rich even if they were impossible for him to pronounce at times.

Of course Jaskier proved to be fluent in the local language - “What do you think the Seven Liberal Arts even entail, Geralt?” - which was helpful when they passed through smaller villages. Those away from the common crossroads or larger settlements tended to have fewer people who spoke the common northern tongue. They made their way to Geralt’s estate through a series of inns, barns and guest bedrooms as Jaskier relentlessly charmed the locals in grandiose displays of hospitality.

As they approached the estate, Geralt pulled Roach to a stop at the top of a hill. “This is it,” he said, nodding to indicate the view.

Jaskier gaped, craning to look out over the small collection of buildings and the dozens and dozens of grapevines that were nestled in the valley below. Geralt could see several workers out tending to the fields; his majordomo must have been overseeing things as agreed upon. They would have to get to know the rest of the staff while they were here. “This is all yours?” Jaskier asked, snapping Geralt’s attention back to the present.

“The house, most of the fields. I’ve not paid all that much attention to it before now, honestly. The house needs work. Never had any reason to sink funds into it before now.” He’d sent a fair sum of gold ahead to Barnabas-Basil to get started on renovations, but it likely would have only been enough to make the main complex habitable. Geralt was confident that he could undertake much of the repairs himself, in time. It would be good to have a project.

“It’s expansive. You produce wine here?” Jaskier asked, turning back towards him.

“Yes, but you’ll have to ask the majordomo which ones.”

Jaskier nodded to himself as they continued down the hill, soon approaching the main gate to the small villa. Members of the staff bustled throughout the property, though many stopped to look as the two of them passed by. As they settled their horses near a storage shed, the majordomo approached them, apparently already made aware of their arrival.

“Ah, Master Geralt, I trust that your travels were smooth? Please, come inside - I will have someone come and tend to the horses.” Barnabas-Basil Foulty was a clean shaven, bald man with sharp, almost bird-like features, and the head of the estate in Geralt’s stead. He stood at perfect attention at all times, shoulders back and head held high. A proud man, if not also an extremely polite one. Geralt liked him immensely, because he was good at his job and could keep up in the cups the one time the two had drank together.

“Ah, this must be the famous Barnabas-Basil. Fantastic to finally meet your acquaintance, my good man,” Jaskier said, jumping in to give the majordomo’s hand a firm shake. “Geralt has praised your skills from here to Redania and back.”

Barnabas-Basil inclined his head towards Geralt, though his spine did not stray an inch. “I thank you, sir, for your kind words. Please, allow me to show you the progress that we have made on the main house so you might get settled.”

The domo walked them through the estate, giving Jaskier a brief tour and pointing out new additions to Geralt. He’d not been to the estate in at least two years, but it was clear that the workers were making good use of the space. The small collection of colorful houses down the road had fresh coats of paint, and children played in the courtyard below the main house. A garden flourished in the space between the manor and the vineyard, dominated by root vegetables and herbs.

“If you would like, we can have it cleared out so that you might use it for your own purposes,” Barnabas-Basil said. His face betrayed no feelings on the issue.

Geralt grunted. “No need. The staff can use it as they wish.” He refused to meet Jaskier’s gaze as the bard beamed at him proudly. After decades of friendship Jaskier still seemed to find it a delight anytime Geralt did something he thought was particularly chivalrous. Geralt was not eager for him to meet the knights, with their virtues and heroic deeds.

The house, as he suspected, was functional but only just. “We’ve done what we could in a short amount of time, sir,” Barnabas-Basil said, his tone politely apologetic. “I assure you renovations are far from complete.”

“It’s fantastic,” Jaskier said, already darting off to explore the other rooms. There was a small kitchen, a bedroom, bathroom and an upstairs loft that could be made into a second bedroom. The additional bed wouldn’t arrive for another week or two.

“We can share,” Geralt said without looking at Jaskier, and did not elaborate further. “Show me what else needs done.”

They fell quickly into a routine. Geralt spent his days working with the locals on renovations, slowly breathing vitality back into the old manor. When he grew tired of working with lumber, he waded into the vineyards, to help pluck the delicate grapes from their twisting vines. A pair of women admonished him for his sloppy work on the first day and taught him how to gently cut the branches away and check the grapes for ripeness. Jaskier fluctuated between helping out with the building work and composing, though he also made the occasional day trip into the city to perform. In the evening they would retire to the house to eat, drink and chat over games of cards. At night they would curl up in Geralt’s bed, as they had when sharing quarters on the road.

It was a strange new intimacy, to learn what Jaskier was like in his bed. They had shared bedrolls many times over the years, but never with any consistency. When the nights were too cold or the inn too full, they would sigh and grumble and agree to share a space for the night, as a matter of convenience. But as soon as they had the coin or the resources to do so, they would always put distance between themselves again. Geralt supposed it had been a kind of self preservation instinct, but he now found little threat in the warmth of Jaskier next to him at night. He learned that some days Jaskier woke before the sunrise, throwing himself out of bed in a tangle of limbs to scramble for a quill. Other days he slept late, sprawled out across the sheets and dozing until the heat of the day forced him up. Often Geralt woke to the bard curled around him, an arm thrown across his broad chest, nose tucked under the witcher’s jaw. Those times always made something tighten in Geralt’s throat. No one should trust a witcher like Jaskier did, but he was grateful for the bard’s foolishness. Jaskier had always believed that Geralt would keep him safe, even when the witcher had refused to even admit that they were friends. Jaskier deserved better, but it didn’t stop Geralt from turning into his warmth each morning, wishing to reach out.

When the second bed came, Jaskier made no effort to relocate to the guest room. Geralt didn’t bring it up.

It only took a month for him to openly think about it, but when he finally did he was surprised it hadn’t come sooner. He looked up from where he was carving a notch in a new post for one of the fences and saw Jaskier sitting on the steps of the manor, the end of his quill hovering near his lips. His mouth moved around abstract syllables as he reached for the next lyric in a new song. The soft, repetitive notes rose and fell in the still summer air, and Geralt could see a small spot of ink on Jaskier’s cheek where he’d tapped himself with the quill by accident. Later that night, Geralt would point it out and they would both laugh, and Jaskier would play at being angry Geralt hadn’t brought it up sooner, and then Geralt would offer to help him clean up. Jaskier looked up from his place on the stairs and met his eye, feeling the attention on him as he always did. When he saw Geralt looking he smiled, as brightly as if he’d not seen the witcher in months, instead of moments. Geralt’s chest swelled with an unspeakable feeling, thick and heady affection and trust and something else even beyond that, and he thought, Oh, I love him.

Geralt suggested a picnic. Jaskier was ecstatic, though he tried to act as if he had to consider the notion.

“Will there be wine?” he asked, eyebrows raised playfully.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, fondly exasperated, “we live on a vineyard.”

So they grabbed some bottles from the storeroom, packed a light cotton blanket and some food leftover from lunch and set off up the nearby hill. It took them about twenty minutes to reach the top, but once they did they were quite near the place they’d first stopped to look over the estate. It was nearing evening, the sun hanging low in the sky and making the shadows of the workers coming in stretch out long across the fields. The two men spread out their things, sitting to watch the landscape move below them as they uncorked one of the bottles.

Geralt let Jaskier chatter away about nothing for a while, letting the sound wash over him as they shared the bread and wine. After a while Jaskier fell quiet, leaving them both to gaze out at the beauty of the land around them. Geralt turned to look at Jaskier. The sweep of his brow, the soft bow of his lips. The smattering of freckles he’d collected from weeks on the road, lying in fields and letting the sun kiss his cheeks. To be jealous of the sun, Geralt thought wryly.

Jaskier turned to meet his gaze, realizing that he was being watched. “What is it?” he asked.

“Why did you come with me?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier chuckled a bit, leaning back on one hand. His shirt was unlaced a ways down the front, leaving his dark chest hair exposed. Geralt wanted to put his nose in the hollow of his throat and just breathe there for a while. “I’m not one to turn down a free holiday, my dear.”

“No,” Geralt said, trying to ignore the way the pet name made his stomach flip. “I mean, why did you always come with me? Everyone… People come and go. But you always came back. Why?”

Jaskier gave him an admonishing look. Geralt didn’t know what to make of it. “You know the answer to that,” he said, and his tone held a warning that the witcher didn’t understand.

“I know you value our friendship,” Geralt replied, “but I could say that of many. It’s not the same.”

“Oh Geralt,” Jaskier sighed, his face full of fondness and exasperation and, strangely, an old sort of grief. “You truly are the most unobservant man in the land. You’ve been far more than a friend to me for many years.”

Geralt felt his heart rate pick up at that, the slow thud speeding up to match Jaskier’s. “You’re saying…” He found himself unable to complete the thought. Even after so many years of trying to do better, it was still impossible to form words past the thundering in his ears. This moment felt delicate, like the wrong phrase might shatter it apart.

“I assumed you knew,” Jaskier said with a shrug. The line of his shoulders was just slightly too tense, his body radiating faux casualness. Anyone else may have been fooled, but Geralt had been watching Jaskier for years. “I would never have let it change anything between us, you must know that. You were always involved with someone else - Yennefer, and then Triss and Shani… I didn’t want to get in the way of that. Something that could make you happy.”

“I thought it would,” Geralt said honestly. His gaze flickered over Jaskier’s impassive face. The bard rarely showed his nerves in his expressions, too much a performer for that. Instead it made its way to his hands, twitching over his thighs and worrying the fabric of the blanket, and his heart, which raced in his chest. “I wanted to be the right person for them. Yen wanted me to be useful. Triss wanted me to be a knight in shining armor. They made me feel like I was better than just a witcher.” Jaskier’s lovely mouth twisted slightly, a note of bitterness in his gaze as he looked out over the vineyards. Geralt hurried on. “But you’re the one who made me feel like being a witcher was already good enough.”

Jaskier turned back to him, blinking in surprise. “Well of course it is,” he said, and naturally the bard had missed the point, honing in on his favorite subject: the reputation of witchers and Geralt’s sense of self worth. “You’re already useful, and noble, and good and kind besides all that. You don’t have to be more than what you are to deserve - fuck, basic human connection and love.” He settled slightly, his gesturing hands falling into his lap once more. “Is that why you left them?”

“The Path always calls,” Geralt said with a shrug. “No one but you ever wanted to follow me.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, blushing. Geralt watched the color rise up over his cheek bones with something like fascination, or maybe hunger. “Well, now you know why,” he continued, with obviously false cheer. He gave Geralt a rueful smile. “I promise I won’t make things awkward. I’ve had decades to practice. I mean, it’s been thirty years. If you were going to fall in love with me you probably would have done so already, hmm?”

“You’d think so,” Geralt agreed. “Sorry it took me so long.” And then he leaned into Jaskier’s space and kissed him.

It wasn’t a very good kiss. Barely a kiss at all, really, considering that Jaskier had frozen under him. Geralt pulled back, lifting a hand to run it gently over Jaskier’s side. The bard was absolutely still, his eyes closed tight. There was a small crease between his eyebrows that Geralt wanted to kiss away, but he wasn’t sure if he should. “Sorry,” he said softly.

Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open. It was unfair that a man could have beautiful eyelashes, Geralt mused, but here they were. “You mustn’t toy with me, witcher,” Jaskier croaked. His voice was raw, as if he’d been singing for hours.

Geralt moved his hand to the bard’s face, his thumb following along the line of his jaw and up to trace across his cheekbone. Freckles like stars under his fingers. “I’m not,” he rumbled. “I swear it, Jaskier. I just -” He paused, trying to marshal his thoughts. “You were always there. No matter how shitty the Path was, or how miserable people were to you because of me, or how much I pushed you away. You stayed. You made me feel like I was worth something, and you made other people think that way too. Every day without you on the Path was always misery. I should have realized sooner, but I’m not… good at this. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier’s head dropped forward, his brow resting on Geralt’s collarbone. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you apologize in the span of a minute,” he said, voice thin. “This is a lot to take in. Are you saying that you… that you love me? You, Geralt of Rivia, are in love with me?”

“Yes,” Geralt said, smiling into Jaskier’s hair. “That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Jaskier pulled away to stare at him. Geralt tried to let his affection through, drinking in Jaskier’s beloved face like he hadn’t allowed himself before. The last rays of the sun played over Jaskier’s hair, turning some of the strands to brilliant amber. His eyes were over bright. Whatever the bard saw in Geralt’s expression must have been enough, because the next moment they were kissing again.

It was, Geralt thought, a miracle that he had ever gone so long without doing so. Now that they’d begun, he never wanted to stop. Jaskier’s lips were warm and soft against his, and when Geralt licked slowly into his mouth he tasted of old wine. They stayed like that for a long time, Geralt holding Jaskier close, decades of tension not so much breaking as releasing like a quiet sigh of relief.

Finally they pulled apart, Geralt nosing at Jaskier’s cheek as he hummed contentment into the bard’s skin. He could feel deft fingers petting through his hair, easily working around the tangles that had formed on the walk up the hill. “I love you,” he said, pressing the words below Jaskier’s ear as if he could speak them into his core that way.

Jaskier shivered once under him. “I love you too,” he said, and Geralt could feel him smiling in the way his jaw moved. He knew Jaskier in his bones. “I’ll follow you wherever you go, you know.”

Geralt pulled back, pushing Jaskier’s fringe back with one hand as he met his eyes. “Maybe I’ll just stop running from you,” he said, smiling. Jaskier grinned back, and neither of them mentioned that his eyes were slightly damp. Geralt pushed himself to his feet and reached down a hand to his bard. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

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the-moon-prince · 3 years

Text

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter XI

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

I’m sorry for the delay! Thank you so much for your patience and support! I’m here with another chapter! I put some uncany descriptions and a tiny fight scene in this chapter. I hope it will dynamic and intresting enough. If you have any feedback, I would be more than glad to recive it! I have some work this week, however I’ll do my best to upload the next chapter as quickly as possible! Thank you, have a great day and I hope you will enjoy the new chapter!

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story. (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter IV ) (Chapter V) (Chapter VI) (Chapter VII)(Chapter VIII)(Chapter IX)(Chapter X) (Chapter XII coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 317

TW: Blood // Morbid Descriptions // Violence (? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I don't bother. I want to make sure that I'm not selling one of my prized items to anyone."-The black-haired man dictated.

(Y/n) cleared their throat-"Understandable. Your collection is impeccable. I can clearly see the devotion put into it."-they agreed with their smile. sitting down on one of the bar benches. Kurapika mimicked the action.

Human and animal parts were too part of the person's collection.

Just another one of those sick scums for Kurapika. He loathed this guy. Referring to (Y/n)'s family as an article in his collection. Still making the reclaim difficult with an air of false supremacy and narcissism.

"I'm glad you recognize it."-the man seemed pleased with the adulation.-"Especially because I'm going to confer you one of my favorite pieces."

(Y/n) nodded-"If I were giving one of my pieces, I would as well be concerned about who was receiving it."-they added with their smile.

"Speaking of, tell me about your collection."-the man challenged.

He pulled up a crystal bottle filled with a dark drink. At the moment of uncovering it, an intensive scent of alcohol came off. He proceeded to pour a generous amount of liquor in a spacious glass with ice

(Y/n) had no collection. Kurapika started to bug. What are they deemed to say to persuade him?

"I have a peculiar appreciation for bodily oddities."-they tilted their head-"I own a hand with polydactyly, another one with syndactyly. A fetus with 15pp tetrasomy, a specimen of dipygus, a pair of lungs with tracheal agenesis, the list can go on."

The man lifted his chin at the answer. Kurapika relaxed. Using his medical knowledge to give examples of abnormalities was skillful.

"That is in the human realm. My favorites are the animal eccentricities. Aren't beasts beautiful?"-they advertised, directing their gate to a taxidermized Golden Pheasant displayed on the shelf behind the man.

By this point, both (Y / n) and Kurapika were certain they had convinced the man sufficiently for him to finally sell them what they were seeking.

"Are they, right?"-the man bragged with his gruff voice-"Your interest shows, kid, that's good."-he nodded, drinking his liquor and refilling the glass-"But do you know what is special about my Fuse?"

Fuse? Didn't that mean beastman or dogman? Kurapika was perplexed. By what right did he refer to them like this...

"It would be the least! The Fuses, aren't they intriguing? Wonderful beasts."-(Y/n) praised, trying to widen their smile. Kurapika could only imagine the pain they felt having to fake that excitement.

The man finished his drink in one gulp and served more.

"Even more for the few that remained. A true rarity! I had a good time studying them."-he shouted. It inflated his ego to be able to show off his collection.-"Imposing! Some tremble with fear when they see them. The demons robed, mated, and killed men, women, and children alike to eat their souls. Since they were disguising themselves as humans, they hid for a while. But they smelled like animals, you know? Beasts in body and soul."-he voiced and made motions of greatness with his hands. Letting out a pant that stank of alcohol.

All of this disgusted Kurapika. The man was putting on a deplorable show: spitting pest and bile out of his filthy mouth. All the collectors were rotten to the core. Would it also own scarlet eyes? What would the miserable bastard state about the Kurta? They were dull and reckless forms who were better off in vases on shelves? His blood was boiling.

(Y/n) didn't took their eyes off the dark-haired for a moment.

"It must be outstanding to hold one! I've been seeking a chance like this for a prolonged time now."-they exclaimed, putting their hands together in triumph. Kurapika felt sorry for them.

"But beasts after all."-the man continued, finishing his drink and serving one plus anew. He was presumably drunk.-"Poor fools, they didn't stand a chance against us."-he started to laugh.-"But enough is enough, I'll go for what you want, kid."

The man finished his 3rth drink, got up, and left his bar counter to climb a wide staircase. Kurapika, who had stayed muted the whole exhibit and was staring at the glass of alcohol, let out a groan once he was assured the bastard was gone. Fuse, it even sounded awful. He turned to see (Y/n). They were looking at the things on the back furniture, their head resting on their hand.

The man went back inside, and they both followed him with their eyes from the entry to his seat. He placed a head on the bar table on a polished wood plank. The head was of a dog. Its fur was light in color, and it had a longer, darker coat on the top of its head from which its ears poked out. His muzzle was somewhat elongated with a slightly recurved blackish nose A dog with human-like traits, resembling (Y/n). Only that he was a child and his grimace was a mixture of surprise and terror. His eyes had been replaced by doll-like ones, cold and lifeless. However, it wasn't him.

They degraded a child to wall decor.

"Look at it!"-the drunk man blurted, elevating the head by the ears to the level of his head.-"A real treasure! Even more, being from a predator, they were the most unusual among the Fuse!"

A twisted and degrading spectacle.

(Y/n) has a face of admiration, and started to clap.-"Wonderful!"

The man laid the head back on the table and sat.

"It is, it is. But it's a pity that it is dead. It would be even more impressive to have it as a pet."-He interjected with a grin, showing his open hand, waiting.

(Y/n) took an envelope out of their bag and handed it to him. The man took money out of it and began to count it. At that, Kurapika took the head and pulled it towards him. On its own, it was quite heavy, and the wooden base didn't help. The fur was soft and covered the moderately battered neck. When viewed up close it was worse.

"Okay, take good care of my Fuse."-he teased displaying his hand to them. They watched it for a moment before pulling their own out and shaking it.

"I will. So you don't have to trouble about that."-they responded smiling.-"We will with-"

"Fuse."-The black-haired interrupted them.

(Y/n) inclined their head, and Kurapika looked up at him. How drunk was this bastard?

"You are a Fuse kid: you have claws. When you shook my hand I saw them, even if you put black nail polish. Your aura is not human either, although you mirror it well. But specialize in hunting beasts, you can't trick me."-the man condemned, with a severe look.

Kurapika felt his blood run cold for a second. (Y/n)'s smile got substituted by a sober expression.

"Why don't you kill me, kid?"-his face changed into an expression of repugnance.

Kurapika was already preparing to attack.

"There is no use in such an act. We will withdraw now."- they calmly declared standing up. They held the head with both hands, and the two directed to the exit.

The man looked down at his now hollow glass, it did not seem that he was going to launch an attack. Nevertheless, Kurapika didn't let his guard down all the walk to the exit. The man didn't seem to move from his chair.

Still, the walk from the bar counter to the door felt heavy. Neither of them would show fear, they couldn't permit it. They would not indulge the wretch.

As soon as they were out the front door, they heard another scream from the man.

"Fuse!"-he shouted that name again. The smell of strong alcohol reached up to them.

Kurapika and (Y/n) stopped, standing on the small path between the porch and the gate. Kurapika turned to see him. This man was nothing to him but a wretch. And he was already on the last nerve of him.

(Y/n) continue to turn their back to the drunk.

"I'll tell you why you don't kill me!"-he shouted-"You don't kill me because you know it won't change anything. You will never get anything back. Because your kind never had anything."-he raged. He seemed almost offended.

(Y/n) tilted their head and remained silent for a couple of seconds. Kurapika was ready to deliver a punch to the man right into his face. At any circumstance, in his current shape, he wasn't going to be capable of much.

"No."-(Y/n) alleged, without turning to see him-"I already reclaimed what was robbed from us."-their tone was not the same as before. This one was more pressing.

Kurapika hadn't heard that tone of theirs before. While they weren't screaming, it radiated indignity.

"They only robbed our bodies."-they maintained-"They will never be able to take away our pride, dignity, nor greatness. And that reality pains you."

The man rushed towards (Y/n), he was fast. In a fit of rage and giddy with alcohol, he concentrated his nen in his right fist and delivered a punch into their head. This action pushed (Y/n)'s head to the floor and their entire body hit the concrete, releasing the puppy's head from their grasp. Which fell to the ground, slightly staining its fur.

It was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Kurapika's eyes glowed scarlet. It could be subtly perceived under the contacts he wore. The man had made the mistake of revealing his type of nen. He was an Enhancer, practicing hand-to-hand combat. That puts him at a disadvantage against Kurapika's ranged techniques.

Kurapika conjured his chains. He dashed towards the man and unleashed his fury in a blow that struck the man in the side, targeting the kidney. The hit was potent enough not only to beat the man off but also to thrust him a few feet away from the two of them.

He was writhing in the grass, panting.

Seeing that (Y/n) didn't get up, Kurapika went to his side and helped him to their feet. Their legs were shaking. They had hit their noses on the pavement. It was bleeding heavily, and their eyes were watery. They also had their left cheek bruised. Neither of them noticed the blow coming.

Once steady on their feet, (Y/n) stepped to the head and lifted it. Whipping the dust and dirt off the pup's face.

"Let me see your other form. Transform yourself."-the man whimpered between gasps, still in the ground.

"Sir, you are drunk."-(Y/n) finished.

In other conditions, Kurapika would keep pounding the bastard. However, the blow (Y/n) received was considerably strong and had a great deal of concentrated aura. Above, they had little physical resistance against direct attacks; their physical fragility could not be ignored. His priority was to get them out of the place. The man did not move and did not say anything again.

Kurapika put a hand on (Y/n) 's back to help them advance to the car.

Getting to the safety of the truck, (Y/n) sat down after putting the puppy in the back. So far it had been a disastrous night. They had to put up with a drunken narcissistic idiot and (Y/n) got beaten, insulted, and denigrated.

When they put their weight on the seat, their frame inclined forward, still shaking. They put their trembling hands together and supported them on their legs meanwhile they puffed.

Kurapika was troubled for their well-being. He moved closer to them to get a better glimpse at the wound. They would have a mark on their cheek and their nose continued to bleed.

"(Y/n), how do you feel?"- he pleaded, a hand in their back.

They sniffed and pulled out a tissue to clean their face.

"I feel better. It is not grave, I'll be fine. Thank you, my love"-they affirmed, turning to see him and offering him a smile.

Kurapika didn't understand. He knew how affable his darling was, except this was exceedingly much. A narcissistic and vulgar man had insulted, not only them but their entire deceased family. Not having respect for the gone is the limit of acceptable decency.

He referred to them as demons, assassins, and other barbarities. He had even demoted them to pets. Yet with all that, he was the one who attacked. He was the one who was boiling in pure anger, not making the smallest attempt to be polite with the bastard. Not (Y/n).

They could have attacked at any time. However, they didn't even conjure their ribbons. They didn't shout at him, they didn't insult him. They remained terribly calm. Even now, when they were alone in the car. It seemed as if they had forgotten everything. They even smiled.

As someone dares to speak like that of the Kurta clan, Kurapika would grind them with his chains and fists.

But this was an enigma to him. Was (Y/n) even vexed? Whatever it is, they had enormous self-control, even excessive...

Kurapika would reflect on this entire experience several times in the future. Despite the fact, there were diverse imports one particular thing adhered with him like glue: the response (Y/n) gave the man screeched they would never recover what was lost.

Kurapika embraced (Y/n) and drew circles on their back, attempting to comfort them. They rested their head on his chest, he could feel them quivering.

"(Y/n)."-he called softly-"It's over, dear, let's go home."

They shook their head.-"Not yet."

#kurapika kurta x reader #kurapika x reader #hxh scenarios #hxh x reader #hxh #kurapika hxh #kurapika kurta #hunter x hunter #kurapika imagine #kurapika x (y/n)#kurapika

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ofathcns · 3 years

Text

The Courting of Narcissus

Alternately titled “Dionysus, again?!”

Rated PG-13 for mentions of wink wonk

Ft. Mentions of @dorianxagapetos, @mylesxdelian, @kairosxevander, @elenepetrakis, @penelcpes

There is more to do in Elysium, he realizes. He is not an anomaly for keeping up with his training, but he does take longer than the rest to actually enjoy his afterlife. Sometimes he goes to heroes, other soldiers touched by gods, and he requests a match simply because no one has come to him. He finds the people of Elysium lounging, drinking wine in various stages of undress. More than once he’d stumbled upon poor Achilles and Patroclus, sometimes even joined by who he believes to be the lover of Apollo himself. It’d been the hero who’d slayed Hector who had told him to find a lover or two of his own.

It is not as if courting in Elysium is quite a thing, but there are many of them there without their lovers, Theseus thinks Achilles got rather lucky in that department. His dear Pirithous is still lost to the Underworld and Ariadne…

He tries not to think of her.

Helen was granted Elysium, she is there somewhere and it does cross his mind to perhaps try wooing her now that they are older. In life he’d wanted to marry her simply for the status. She’d been too young when he and Pirithous had gathered her up the first time, she was meant to stay with his mother, have a happy life in Troezen until they were ready to marry. But even as a youth, he’d been more interested in doing whatever would get Pirithous’s attention. And his attention was kept with their adventures, with challenges.

If he were to ever step foot past the threshold of Helen’s door, it’d be to apologize profusely for the folly of a lovestruck boy.

So he set his sights on people he saw decently often. Wrestling with Odysseus got heated, combat felt more...There was a tension there that he couldn’t quite ignore and perhaps Achilles really was onto something.

Of course, being king of Athens, being a hero, he cannot have just anyone as a lover, he needs a challenge, he needs an equal.

And what bigger challenge than someone in love with themselves?

He doesn’t mean for it to happen, but it does.

People forget that Narcissus is a hunter, or perhaps they simply see him and are so taken by his appearance, that they do not think to fear him. But the moment that Theseus first lays eyes on him, he is perhaps a little afraid of him. He’s truly beautiful basking beside a pond, a basket of fruit beside him. It is ridiculous, he has fought many man, he has fought many beast, and yet there’s this apprehension coiled tight in his gut and he finds himself speechless.

Aside from rattling off his titles.

Which don’t seem to impress Narcissus in the slightest.

And so Theseus, ears burning just a little, hurries back to his training grounds and tells Asterius all about it. The beast seems to give just a solemn nod as he recounts the exploit and if he weren’t so embarrassed, he’d have gone to Achilles.

“I am a king, Asterius! And yet I looked at him and I felt like a boy again!” His companion nods again, arms crossed over his chest as Theseus paces the field. It’d been like looking at Pirithous again for the first time, Ariadne even and perhaps Achilles really is onto something, he is absolutely lonely but he refuses to acknowledge such a thing out loud. So instead he sighs and stops in his tracks before the minotaur.

“You will try again.” The beast says in his somber, thoughtful way.

So he does. Not once, not twice, but several times he approaches the most beautiful man he’s ever laid eyes upon without feeling like he is making any progress. Until one day one day Narcissus asks him if he’d like to go hunting and of course, he jumps at the chance to perhaps finally show off a little. It doesn’t quite go well the first time, but it doesn’t go...Terribly. It’s a lot of traipsing through the wood. Some days they don’t see anything, other days it’s a deer, a pheasant, a rabbit in a snare.

They talk on days when it seems they won’t find anything, though often Theseus just finds himself listening. It takes time, he wants to meet all of Narcissus’s stories about his life with tales of his own accomplishments, but he finds the other will not listen to his boasts. If he does, he doesn’t seem all that impressed and at first it is frustrating and then one day, it isn’t. He is a king, he brought democracy to Athens, he doesn’t need to boast, and he finds that he actually likes listening. There’s something about his voice that he finds just as pleasing as his face.

The first time Theseus kisses him, it is to shut him up. They are among the many flowers that surround Narcissus’s home, the ones named after him, and he doesn’t know if he does it because he’s been watching the other man’s lips move or if he wishes to get him to just stop talking.

Achilles and Patroclus had a fair point, he did need someone. But the hunter was often visited by another, and not just any other person, but Dionysus himself. It spoils something for a few days, when he first glimpses the two. Dionysus had stolen Ariadne from him and now he was in the home of the man who he had affection for. He waxes about the matter only to Asterius and when Achilles asks him how the impossible is going, he simply smiles and tells him that not everyone could find their Patroclus.

It isn’t a deterrent for long though, he’s a hero, he’s a king, and there’s many more kisses to be had. They have them, he stops wondering if the other man is simply entertaining him, it does not matter. It does not matter until he is back at home alone or with Asterius gazing out at the water and then Theseus thinks about Phaedra, about Hippolytus, Aegeus even. And when he is done thinking of them, when he is done mourning them for the day, sometimes he thinks of Athens, the kingdom he’d let down.

It never lasts, those moods. He is good at picturing his worries upon the shores and mentally watching the Aegean wash them away. He likes to think it’s both of his father’s telling him not to worry.

He doesn’t worry the first time he has Narcissus. The hunter’s house is full of mirrors, there is not a single room that their reflections aren’t watching them. And watch them they do as muscles ripple and lips collide again and again and again. Time is a funny thing in paradise, he does not know how long they go about such a dance and Theseus does not care. For he has the most beautiful man under him, sometimes over him, and it is hard not to get wrapped up in such a thing in what could be a matter of weeks, months, years even. He has never cared much for aesthetics, it’s a trivial thing, but seeing the two of them together is so pleasing and he thinks Narcissus thinks so, too.

Things change, Patroclus and the Spartan prince Hyacinth that is often with him leave Elysium, leaving Achilles alone. Theseus watches the world with him; they keep an eye on Corinth together or he views it through one of Narcissus’s many mirrors as they lounge amongst the flowers. They banter about it, about the gods, about magic, about how funny mortals dress nowadays and how unfortunate this whole thing must be.

But when his father comes to call upon him, the god of the sea himself, the thought of himself and the hunter, the phantom feeling of him coming undone under his hands, it isn’t enough to get him to stay. Theseus jumps at the chance to do right by Poseidon, but he makes a point to say goodbye to those he’s met in paradise.

First is Odyseuss, the man who is always up for a story, a tale of the sea, or his clever wife. It’s one last sparring match, one last story, and he wonders what the other hero would do in his shoes. If he would seek out his Penelope, if he would continue his adventures. But he does not ask, instead he goes to see Bellerophon, his brother. They talk and they drink and muse about their father, their many siblings. He promises to tell him tales of them if he meets any of them again.

It pains him to leave Achilles when his house is already nearly empty. Theseus still half expects to see Patroclus flanked by Hyacinth, but there is just aristos achaion. Much like Odyseuss, they spare a final time and Theseus promises to return to him, ensuring him that he will do right by Patroclus, even the Spartan prince he’s so fond of. They embrace the way men do, hands clapping at shoulders and he is on his way.

He is half expecting to be met with the sight of the god of wine, and yet it’s just Narcissus and his many mirrors. Somehow, he thinks that makes it worse, makes it harder. He tells him he is leaving, that he is going to Corinth to put a stop to all of the madness there, he thinks. That Poseidon himself had asked him to go.

What feels like the most important part, is that Theseus tells Narcissus he will miss him. With his hand upon his face, he tells him that he will miss him, that he’ll return triumphant. He’s a king, after all, he’s a hero, and he will do what heroes do. It is a fleeting moment, but wasn’t all time in Elysium fleeting? The kiss he gives the other man isn’t. It is perhaps firm and desperate and leaves him wanting. He leaves quickly, not because he doesn’t want to hear what the other man has to say (and he imagines it is a lot), but because Narcissus is perhaps the one who could convince him to stay.

It is just a way to pass the time, their tryst. Narcissus will still have Dionysus, he will still have whoever else comes to call upon him, and he will be just fine ‘living’ amongst his hall of mirrors. But even as Theseus tells himself this, he finds himself already missing the other.

When he goes to say goodbye to Asterius, the beast regards him the same way he always does. “You will return, Theseus.” Is what he tells him in that steady baritone. Not ‘King of Athens’, not ‘Son of Poseidon’, but he calls him by name. For he is his friend, and Theseus responds by embracing him the way men do.

Except as they part, the minotaur presses something into his palm. It’s a narcissus, colored gold, petals soft and familiar. It’s from the hunter’s own garden and something in his chest seizes at the sight of it.

“Do not forget us.” Asterius states, voice perhaps a little far away.

“How could I ever?” He smiles up at the beast, closes his hand carefully around the flower, and then he turns towards the sea. He’d press it when he got to Corinth, he thinks. There it would sit on a mantle and wait for him in a way he wished Narcissus would.

#self para.#narcissus.#patroclus.#penelope.#hyacinth.#helen.

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dansnaturepictures · 1 year

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11th April 2023: Mull-Otters, eagles and more

Photos taken this time last week in this set: 1. Otters on Loch Spelve, it really was such a mesmerising and euphoric moment when we saw these couple of Otters in the water, swimming to shore and dashing under one of the many in flower gorse bushes that adorned Scotland last week. I had dreamed of seeing a wild Otter for so long and we pinned a lot of hope on this Scotland trip including Mull so for us to see them was astonishing. Mammalian beauties who’s fur glistened in the fine spring sunlight. 2. View from near where we saw the Otters. 3. Grey Seal at Croggan on Loch Spelve, another fantastic mammal I was excited to see in perhaps my best ever week of mammal watching with so many seen. 4. View from Croggan a lovely spot. 5. A wholesome Wheatear at Croggan, for a second April running they’ve starred in a holiday for me. 6. The Pheasant I photographed moments before we had word of the Otters as me and my Mum walked away from the group to explore momentarily and I ran back to see the Otters. 7, 9 and 10. More beautiful views of the rugged and inspiring Mull, what a tranquil and enticing place. 8. Common Seals in the rain at Salen a great sight too.

Also standing out was of course the whirlwind sightings of eagles with two glorious Golden Eagles including a juvenile and five gigantic White-tailed Eagles including astonishingly three at once at one point seen. Otters and eagles are what Mull is so famous for and I was in my element getting so lucky to see them. It was sensational to see a milky male Hen Harrier flying and get a breathtaking close view of a magical Merlin flying and hunting a Meadow Pipit flock around rocks. My first Razorbill seen this year, Gannet, Black Guillemot, loads of Great Northern Diver, more stunning summer plumage Slavonian Grebe views, singing Grey Wagtail on a wire which I’d never seen for this species before, a neat Redwing seen very well a believed Icelandic bird a good one to make the most of before they migrate, Turnstone and Oystercatcher bringing back memories of my childhood early birdwatching in one of the best weeks I’ve ever had for bird and wildlife watching, Red-breasted Merganser, Hooded Crow and lesser celandine were other highlights. One of the best days of my life.

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blue-and-dog · 3 years

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The Beast in the Mountains (A Sengoku Basara One-Shot)

Note: This story is centered around my fanon that, post-Sekigahara, Mitsunari and his family fled into the mountains to live in hiding for several years before his death. A wife is mentioned, but for the sake of this story I keep her ambiguous so you readers who have an OC shipped with him can just slap her in there. :D Shiranui’s profile is here.

TW: BLOOD, ANIMAL ATTACK

[[MORE]]

“That’s a good size fire; try and keep it like that for now.”

The group of men sat around the small fire; four dirty, tired, ragged men on the run from proper society, obscured by the darkness of the mountain’s dense forest, barely illuminated by the small fire. Sadanobu continued.

“Any brighter and we risk attracting animals. I’m already worried about smoke flowin’ through the treetops.”

“With how thick these trees are?” Gaku chuckled, “I’m surprised the moonlight even gets through here. We’ll be fine. We just gotta make sure to put it out before we call it a night.”

“You sure no one’ll find us up here?” Naofumi asked, as usual fidgeting with his hands out of anxiety.

“Relax, I did some scoping out of the town not far from these mountains,” Matazaemon shook his head, “They’re superstitious folk. Somethin’ about an old legend saying there’s a guardian spirit that lives on this mountain. People who go too high up the mountain end up in its territory and meet a horrible fate or some shit like that. That’s why I wanted to set up the camp so high up.”

“Besides, we’re not staying long...” Sadanobu pulled out the thick sack from behind him, “We gotta get to my guy in Kyoto and pawn all this off.”

Another successful heist for the unlikely group of criminals; two army deserters, a farmer and a gambler, able to pool their strengths and successfully rob their way across the East. Traveling nobles, temples, inns—nothing was safe. The country was a mess—they were just taking the opportunity to help themselves.

“That last temple was hidin’ some good loot!” Gaku said excitedly, “I still can’t believe how lucky we got! Lemme see again!”

Sadanobu rolled his eyes, but smiled and passed the bag to Gaku, who excitedly opened it, tilting it toward the light of the fire to see the inside; the head of the gold Buddha glittered back at him. “We got enough goodies in here to eat like kings for weeks!”

“Man, I haven’t eaten a decent meal since the Toyotomi...” Sadanobu sighed and leaned back. “It’ll be nice...”

“Hey, yeah, you were a Toyotomi guy!” Matazaemon laughed, “I was Oda! I know your pain.”

“You’re kidding! You don’t strike me as an Oda guy.”

“And you don’t strike me as a Toyotomi!” he cackled back, as the two howled in laugher. Gaku and Naofumi chuckled along.

“You know, you two never talked about your army days,” Naofumi pointed out, “We got time—why not start now?”

“It’s really nothin’ much,” Matazaemon shook his head, digging through another bag to grab a rice ball and start distributing them amongst the group, “I joined up so my old man didn’t have to, wound up havin’ to do a lot of killing and burning and pillaging that I really never wanted to do. Watched all the major generals shining above everyone else, while the foot soldiers were trampled beneath them. Date, Takeda, Uesugi...they were the kind of guys that really made war seem like a fun time.”

“I know what you mean,” Gaku replied, “They made it look like something we should aspire to. I almost joined up with Date myself, but...when folks from the Date came around enlisting able-bodied men, I took off so my mom wouldn’t have to see her only son die for the sake of some egotist who just wanted more land for himself. I wonder how she’s doing...?”

“That’s the thing about these generals and daimyo,” Naofumi shrugged, “They shine brighter by standing on the backs of their soldiers.”

“Oda was a complete monster, though,” Matazaemon grumbled. “All of his inner circle were. Moment I got news Akechi killed him, I took the opportunity to turn tail while everyone was scrambling around. Never looked back.”

“Similar to my story,” Sadanobu nodded, “Hideyoshi was a creep...even standing near him put me on edge. And his supporters weren’t any better.” He leaned forward, looking down into the fire. “I remember one day, when I was training...apparently his general, Ishida, didn’t think I was making enough progress. By some mercy, he kept his sword sheathed, but he beat me with the sheathed weapon in some twisted attempt to strengthen me. All it did was strengthen my resolve to get the hell out of there soon as I could. Glad he’s dead.”

“Is he, though?” Naofumi raised an eyebrow. “I thought it wasn’t confirmed.”

“He and his family were in Osaka castle when some folks raided it after he lost Sekigahara. The whole place went up in flames; there’s no way an impulsive guy like that had any escape plan to get out of there undetected. There were so many burnt corpses in the castle afterward once the fire was under control; he had to be among them. He wouldn’t have run. He never ran.”

Naofumi closed his eyes in thought. “Maybe. There’s always a chance.”

“Don’t even start. I don’t wanna think about the possibility that that asshole’s still out there somewhere. And even if he is...he’d never willingly show his face again.”

The wind seemed to whisper above them. And a rumbling came from the woods around them.

“What was that?” Naofumi looked up, now apprehensive.

“Probably just an animal attracted to the light,” Gaku reached toward the fire, grabbing a burning hunk of wood from it as he stood up. “Wave this around a little bit and they’ll be gone. I’ll do it.”

Gaku turned from the group, heading through the brush, waving the burning wood around to light his path. Big, dramatic steps and stomps to intimidate whatever was near, his companions watching from afar.

Then, his head perked up, as if he spotted something. But before he could speak a word, he let out a choked-off cry, the flame dropping and going out.

“Gaku!” Matazaemon cried out as the group stood up, on high alert. Then, the loud thumps of quick but heavy footsteps, and a vicious bark and snarl, as a large, white blur lunged forward, biting Matazaemon by the arm; the force knocked him to the ground as he felt the arm pop out of place. He howled a mix of pain and fear.

Naofumi stared in shock and horror at the large wolf now viciously yanking Matazaemon to and fro like a rag doll, blood soaking its teeth and maw. But Matazaemon’s screams finally snapped him to attention as he pulled out his knife, plunging it toward the beast’s side in a panic.

He missed the stab, but the blade did slice the wolf’s side, as it let go of his friend and instantly turned on him; its jaw snapped open, going for his throat, and as he fell back, he looked to Sadanobu for help.

But Sadanobu had fled. Even as the wolf snarled and tore into him, Naofumi could hear footsteps approaching, and hear something slice into Matazaemon, silencing his howls of agony.

Sadanobu blindly pushed his way through the brush, his face a mix of fear, of terror, of snot and spit, while he tried to process that he was alone now, on this mountain, at night.

The Beast of the Mountain was real! That was no ordinary wolf! That thing...that thing was a monster! So fast, so strong! He had to leave its territory.

He had to get down the mountain.

He tripped in his panic, falling and rolling a ways, before finally sliding to a stop, staring up at the break in the treetops to see the moon. He began to sit up, but froze.

Footsteps. Two feet.

He began to hyperventilate, wondering if the beast had changed form, to come after *him.*

But the moon began to make his pursuer visible. And he could see those thin, angry eyes glaring down at him.

Those thin, angry eyes from all those years ago.

And he began to wail.

“IT’S YOU—“  SPLURCH!

That one slice caused his insides to burst out of him, as he fell back, gurgling his final sounds, the world around him becoming black.

....

And Ishida Mitsunari flicked the blood off his old sword before sheathing it again. His intuition had been correct; the noise and dim light he saw from his home wasn’t just his imagination playing tricks on him; someone had the audacity, once again, to venture that high up the mountain. And they needed to be dealt with swiftly, before he risked them finding him.

Grabbing the body by the leg, he began to drag it back with him toward the campfire. As he did, he whistled a short whistle, as the snarls and barks from before were replaced by panting; he found the wolfdog standing by the other two bodies, his curled tail twitching in satisfaction. Dropping the first body’s leg, Mitsunari knelt down.

“Come here. Let me see.”

The dog padded forward, allowing Mitsunari to get a closer look. Removing his right glove (revealing a hand scarred from burns), he ran a hand along the wound in the dog’s side; the dog let out a small whimper, but didn’t panic.

“...it’ll scar, but it’s nothing serious,” he muttered, “We’ll treat it when we get back home. Good work, Shiranui.”

His children had named the dog when he brought the pup back to their home two years prior, having found the pup attempting to steal one of the pheasants he had hunted. Now fully grown, it was clear the dog took mostly wolf traits...but, at his core, Shiranui had always been a loyal dog...especially to his master.

Once certain the wound wasn’t serious, Mitsunari turned his attention to the bodies. Retrieving the last one from a ways away, he wasted no time rifling through their pockets and satchels for supplies. Medicine, food, tools...anything usable, he gathered into the largest bag. As he came across the sack containing their ill-gotten gains, he pondered the contents for a bit...before shaking his head. He had no need for any of this. Gold and the like wouldn’t keep them alive. Wouldn’t keep them safe.

One by one, he dragged each body a ways up to the cliffs, before rolling each body over the edge with one smooth motion, watching them get swallowed by the darkness below as he listened to the impact of them striking the cliff side, the stones, the tree branches....and lastly, he tossed the sack of treasures, too. Good fortune to whomever finds them, he supposed. It didn’t matter to him either way. Either way, the Beast of the Mountain had maintained its status as something to be feared.

Returning to the camp and snuffing out the fire, he let his eyes readjust to the darkness, before looking to Shiranui’s bloodied face.

“Let’s wash your face before we go back.” His wife hated when the dog came back from its hunts and meals looking like that.

After stopping by the stream to clean off the dog’s face and wash the wound a bit, they began their quiet trek back home, their loot in hand. Nearly three years of this life...and sometimes, it was still wildly unfamiliar to him.

He should have died at Sekigahara. He should have taken his life when he failed to avenge his lord.

He should have.

But he didn’t.

Now he was a spent match; the fire of battle had long left him, and now he was smoke, drifting about his new life, though sometimes, that little fire would come back. Sometimes, he would remember why he lived.

Off the beaten path, past the troublesome terrain, there stood a small house. His house. It was no Sawayama, it was no Osaka Castle, but it was home. And it was here that he quietly slid open the door, only to flinch slightly, startled by the shape of his wife’s feet in the moonlight shining through the door. In her arms, the smallest of his children, his only daughter, little Tatsuhime, fast asleep and undisturbed.

“...how close were they?” his wife asked in the softest of voices.

“Close enough to be a problem,” he replied. She could tell he was willfully omitting details. Details that would distress or upset her. He clearly didn’t want to elaborate further. Other than, “Shiranui’s hurt. I’ll stay with him tonight.”

She gave a quiet nod, quietly vanishing into the tiny hallway, as she, too, was swallowed by darkness.

Mitsunari retrieved a cloth, taking a seat against the wall and beckoning the dog over; Shiranui obeyed, laying down as Mitsunari pressed the cloth against the wound. The dog rested his head on his master’s lap, while Mitsunari rested his own head against the wall.

He could faintly hear the rustling of his wife setting Tatsuhime down to sleep; undoubtedly between her two older brothers. His wife was then rustling into bed as well.  He didn’t know when he’d sleep.

But until then, he’d remember why he lived.

#sengoku basara #ishida mitsunari #Mitsunari Ishida #fanfic #basara #Sb fanfic #blue writes #fan fiction #fanfiction #capcom

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