#frogs is the middle ground for earth and water

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicmas23 Day 9: to ground (jasper/archie)

Good evening! An early post tonight because I am fueled by chocolate frogs, the potential for some amateur surgery tonight (doctor approved, it's fine), and the promise that the holiday season is nearly upon us and I'll stop waking up in a terrified haze that I've forgotten to order something that Amazon doesn't stock locally.

It's been a weird day.

Tonight I bring you what at least three people have requested: an Attempt at Jasper/Archie. This was started for Pride and I've continued working on it. This is the first draft, so it'll undergo some polishing and edits before it hits AO3, not to mention a ream of author's notes for context.

This is my first time writing m/m, so I'm oddly fascinated with how this turned out. I think it's okay? I think my biggest issue is characterizing Archie right and making sure I capture what we know about him with what we know about Alice.

I probably need to do more world/lore building for the boys like I have with Jess and Alice, but c'est la vie. I tried and I hope for all the people that wanted this, you enjoy it!

going to ground. The motel is dim and smells damp, some rundown place halfway to Olympia that was never more than half full, used by truckers and seasonal workers on their way to Peninsula and back home again. The bedspreads were shiny, discoloured polyester; the smell of mould and stale air permeating every crevice.

Archie isn’t happy. But it’s easier to be pissed at the state of this motel to distract himself.

Jasper’s stripped to his waist in the bathroom, prolonging the inevitable. Hot water will alleviate the pain for a short time, but he’s damn well pushing it. He’s not even treating the wounds anymore; he’s just hiding.

It’s always been Jasper’s habit to go to ground when he’s injured. In Calgary, in New Hampshire, and now in Forks. He won’t - can’t - even be around the Cullens when he’s that physically vulnerable. Archie always privately wondered if Jasper brought him alone so that someone had his back, or if he knew Archie would follow him to the ends of the Earth no matter what, or maybe so that he knew that Archie was protected.

His boy was wretchedly overprotective.

Which was, frankly, the reason that they were in this mess in the first place.

Scowling, Archie nudged the bed ruffle with his toe and nodded to himself when it crinkled like plastic. This place really was a dump. Normally, Jasper would take them out in the middle of the forest somewhere, carefully chosen for their inability to be tracked. After Calgary, it had taken Archie weeks to convince Jasper to go home, that it was safe. That they were safe, Maria was gone, and the Cullens were their family - they were no danger to them, they weren’t angry or upset with them for what Maria did (though Esme had been nigh hysterical at their sudden disappearance) - and they needed to go back.

New Hampshire had been somewhat easier; it had only taken a week to get Jasper home, and that hadn’t been an emotionally loaded incident, just some territorial nomads.

And now Forks.

Jasper had driven them here, and it was an unexpected that he hadn’t simply insisted on plunging into the Olympic National Park for days on end. But maybe that was more strategy - the woods were the first place the Cullens would look. A shitty motel halfway to Olympia wouldn’t be a place anyone would come looking for them for days - especially with both Bella and Jacob wounded.

Archie scowls again, and decided he’s been patient enough. He’s not one to sulk over big things - he wants the air cleared and everything resolved. But Jasper hates arguing so much that he’ll cloister himself rather than face Archie. It doesn’t matter where, as long as he can hide - in his study, in the garage with Rose, or - apparently - in a motel bathroom only a few steps above a truck stop.

The pain would be excruciating.

He’s been in there long enough.

“Jas.” He knocks on the door, and hears nothing besides the running tap. He waits a beat before he tries the knob - surprisingly, it’s unlocked and Archie wonders if he missed Jasper unlatching it, or if he just assumed it was locked.

Jasper’s slumped against the wall, his eyes pitch-black. There’s something about them that when they’re thirsty; vampires look gaunt and slightly grey-er than usual. A little closer to dead. Probably not noticeable to humans but to him, who looks at Jasper every single day, he looks miserable.

Archie moves closer, crouching down. Jasper’s eyes are tracking him, but he says nothing.

“Show me,” Archie says gently, but Jasper’s eyes have dropped to Archie’s right arm, covered by his sweatshirt.

“Jasper, you need to let me help you.” He can smell the venom - mostly Jasper’s, but there’s a sharp, foreign note that makes Archie worry. The scent is strong enough that the wound is still open, and it’s been hours. “Please.”

“Let me see it,” Jasper says hoarsely; speaking sounds painful. He needs to hunt, on top of everything, and he can’t. Not yet. Not til they take care of this.

“You first,” Archie replies firmly, but Jasper doesn’t move, his eyes fixed on Archie’s arm.

Sighing, Archie shoves the sleeve of his sweatshirt up; there’s an old ace bandage wrapped around it whilst the skin repaired. But after he removes it, the wound is obvious - the angry purpling of the bite has faded, now that it has been cleaned of foreign venom, it’s only slightly darker and will fade completely in a few hours, especially if Archie goes hunting. It’s a shallow wound, will barely scar. Frankly, Jasper’s given him more impressive marks in bed.

But Jasper doesn’t even stop the horror from rolling off him at the sight of it.

“Your turn,” Archie says in a voice that brooks no arguments, trying to squash the irritation down. It’s been a long time since Jasper’s been this… shaken up over anything, and it’s easier to pretend that it’s him being dramatic over Archie’s bite mark right now.

Jasper nods, and gets on his knees to lean forward.

It looks exactly like Archie’s visions showed him. Worse, actually, because this is real life.

The fissure runs down his back, parallel to his spine, from where his neck and shoulder meet, to his waist. The flesh has split like a geode, and Archie can see all the petrified fat and muscle right down to the bone, with an eerie golden sheen over it all. The edges are purple-black from the foreign venom, almost blistered. In contrast, the bite mark on the back of his neck looks benign, even though it should scare him more.

The whole thing makes him feel sick and frankly, Archie doesn’t feel even a tiny bit capable of dealing with this. He would give anything to have Rose or Carlisle here to patch Jasper up, whilst he flirted and made jokes to distract him.

But Jasper wouldn’t trust them. He might respect Carlisle, and love Rose, but when it comes down to the meat of it, he doesn’t trust them like he trusts Archie.

“Don’t be mad,” Jasper says in that same hoarse, flat voice. “Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Archie replies, and it’s not totally a lie. He’s panicking internally, he’s still annoyed and frustrated, but he’s not angry.

Jasper lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a whine, and that pushes Archie into action - Jasper’s in pain and he’s sitting here navel-gazing.

“Come and lie on the bed, and we’ll clean this up. I promise I won’t make any moves on you,” Archie tugs him to his feet, his lame attempt at a joke falling flat. Jasper limps after him, looking miserable.

The groan Jasper lets out as he lies face-down on the bed is made uglier by the way the wound pulls and shifts as he moves. Archie’s not one with a weak stomach, but knowing that mess is attached to the person he loves most in the world… it’s hard to look at.

He almost understands why Edward’s so fixated on keeping Bella safe. If Jasper were as vulnerable as Bella…

There’s no one else to help them, so it has to be Archie.

The bag from the convenience store is on the nightstand; salt, a bottle of cheap vodka, and a tube of aloe vera. It was a goddamn crude kit; Carlisle would be horrified at the use of vodka. Actually, he’d be horrified by this whole set-up. In a perfect world, they’d be back at the Cullens and Archie would be allowed to do this properly.

But they aren’t and he can’t.

Archie had honestly never asked Jasper how they discovered flammable fluids could purge out foreign venom, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know -the vodka would draw out any venom that stuck to the open wound, since foreign venom gained a nearly honey-like stickiness to it after a short time. The inability to purge it successfully was nearly always what caused scarring. Salt worked to purge the rest of the foreign material out of it, and aloe vera kick-started their cells healing again.

It’s not human blood; human blood would do the heavy lifting if they used that, but both of them know that it’s a slippery slope, and one that is best left alone for many reasons. The least of all is the fragile alliance they’ve formed with the Pack. Archie feels like they wouldn’t take kindly to them stealing blood from the hospital, even for injury treatment, so he didn’t even suggest it.

Carlisle would adore to discuss all of this in great detail - he’s been fixated on vampire healing principles for years. Archie should suggest it to Jasper as a holiday gift for next year. Hell, one page of notes would keep Carlisle and Eleazer occupied for days.

The worst part of treating Jasper, Archie decides as he very quickly douses Jasper’s back in salt and alcohol, is the fact that Jasper stays silent. Protesting the pain, even the smallest noise, is a sign of weakness. The only indication of the agony that he’s in is the tightening of his back and arm muscles.

So Archie talks. Everything spills out, all the inane shit that goes through his head - that he’s still disappointed that Bella didn't want to go to senior prom because the dress he had in mind would have been a showstopper, and no he wasn’t going to use it for her wedding dress because that dress has been drawn and cut for a while now.

He complains about the fight, that the wolves blocked his visions and there were one or two half-visions that looked like they spelt doom but nothing came to pass so now he’s reconsidering the accuracy. Or was the fact the wolves are unknowable affecting the outcome?

He’ll have fun debating that one with Edward at some point.

Archie isn’t sure when he runs out of easy words to say, but it does happen as he watches the foreign venom burn out of the fissure, and the room is silent. The only real communication they have is Archie’s hand rubbing Jasper’s shoulder soothingly; the only form of reassurance that he can offer right now. Too many things need to be said. Even more need to not be said.

So, they sit in silence. When the wounds look clear, Archie carefully helps Jasper lie back on the bed. It’ll take a while for them to heal, and it’s draining - Jasper told him that years ago. He’ll need to hunt immediately after this. Jasper lies back with a sigh, a breath released now that the worst of the pain has been dealt with, and closes his eyes. Archie takes up his spot in the rancid-looking armchair, hugging his knees to his chest, and waits.

Jasper breaks the silence after a couple of hours.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He sounds clearer, better, and it’s a tangible relief. Archie immediately crawls onto the bed, motioning for Jasper to lean forward so he can check his back. The fissure already looks so much better; the bite too has lightened, but both are going to leave a nasty scar.

“You still need to hunt,” Archie informs him, absently pressing a kiss to Jasper’s shoulder blade before settling Jasper back against the pillows.

He’s delicious and it doesn’t matter how many years pass, Archie still gets butterflies looking at him. Shirtless and in worn out jeans really is his very best look. If this were any other moment, just a quick getaway for some privacy…

But it isn’t.

“Talk to me,” Jasper said insistently, his hand reaching up to cup Archie’s cheek. “I know you’re still mad.”

“It was a stupid fucking risk,” Archie says precisely, but without the vehemence he had earlier. “I had everything under control. One bite is not the end of the world.”

“It is to me,” Jasper said simply. “When it’s you.”

Archie closed his eyes to drag up some patience. “Jasper. One bite verses this,” he waved his hand over him. “You were mauled. It was opportunistic and you could have gotten killed.” His voice rises and he has to stop himself, keep his temper. It’s the fear of what could have happened that makes him angry, he knows that. “I have seen you get hurt so many times over the years… so many near misses, so many times you’ve been so close to not coming back, not being there, that the fact you take those risks…”

He closes his eyes for a moment to compose himself, and instinctively lies next to Jasper, curled to rest his head on Jasper’s shoulder. It brings back memories, the scent of Jasper’s skin (the same leather-sun-wood he’s known for decades, but tinged with the venom and alcohol that leaves him uneasy) not quite soothing Archie’s anxiety. He remembers the visions where Jasper was too far gone to fight but he still went into battle. How many times did he nearly lose his head, did he nearly get overrun by enemy soldiers desperate to prove themselves by bringing down the Major of Monterrey?

How many times did Archie watch everything he ever wanted fade away for a second, because Jasper took a stupid fucking risk? And he was certain those days were over so many times - when they met; Ohio in ’49; Calgary is ’76; New Hampshire in ’81, and now Forks. It just never stops; it’s always going to linger, that idea that Jasper is never going to be safe, never going to be protected.

“If you’d been able to see it, would you have stopped me?” Jasper asks softly, one arm wrapping around Archie.

“Duh.” He’s tracing the scars on Jasper’s chest now, scars he knows so well he could draw them with his eyes closed - an absent gesture that calms him. “You never would have noticed.”

“Exactly.” Jasper waits for Archie to acknowledge his point, but he doesn’t look up. “I saw what was happening and I stopped it. The same way you would have for me.”

“But you were…” Archie scrunches his eyes up and turns away. “I would have been okay. One bite is nothing compared to all of this!”

Maybe this will turn into a proper argument. They haven’t had one since Calgary. Maybe they’re due for one.

“Come back,” Jasper says, and he sounds so tired that Archie rolls back over reflexively, but sprawled half-across Jasper’s chest this time, staring up into Jasper’s black eyes.

“I’ve seen arm bites go terribly, terribly wrong,” Jasper said in that low voice that he used just for Archie’s ears; intimate and almost dark. “You’ve seen Peter’s scars; that’s one of the better outcomes from a bad bite. And there is no part of me I wouldn’t sacrifice to make sure you aren’t the one with a mutilated arm - if we managed to save your arm at all. That newborn wasn’t going to just bite you; he was prepared to take his pound of flesh, and I…

“The injuries I’ve seen on the battlefield… Arch, I know what our venom can do to vampire skin. I’ve seen it go half necrotic, I’ve seen it eat through flesh until you just have to amputate at the shoulder. Neither Maria or I ever figured out why that happened to some bites. Only that it did and there was nothing we could do. It might just be a bite, but I couldn’t risk it. I wouldn’t risk anything about you, ever.”

Archie leads out a huff of breath and Jasper chuckles, brushing his hair from his face.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, it got away from me for a moment,” Jasper continued, his hand cupping Archie’s face again. “But I knew you were there and you had my back and that everything was going to be okay as long as you were.”

“You know that it’s the same for me, right? That it’s only going to be okay for me if you are?” Archie’s contemplating kissing him right now, but not if that’s going to interrupt this talk so that they have to finish it later. “I need you to… I need you to be selfish and be safe. Every time I think it’s gonna be okay and we don’t have to worry about dying any more, something changes and I’m tired, Jas. I’m so, so tired.”

Jasper ghosts a kiss over Archie’s cheek, and it’s not enough. “I’m never going to apologise for protecting you, and I’m never going to stop making sure you’re okay,” Jasper murmured, frowning as he shifted on the bed to redistribute their weight. “But I swear I will always come back to you, okay? When it’s our time, we’ll go together.”

Archie nods, and that’s when Jasper surprises him by pulling him flush and kissing him hard. It’s the kind of kiss that is always a precursor for more, especially if Jasper’s hand on his belt is any indication of how the rest of the night is going to go.

And he’s okay with that, as long as Jasper doesn’t mess up his back any worse.

Tomorrow, he’s going to have to check in with their family, reassure them that everything is okay, and drag Jasper home and pretend they just ran off to fuck in the woods and everything is fine. There were no grievous bodily wounds tended to in a rank little highway motel, there were no meltdowns.

But right now, he’s going to take this kiss, and the next one, and just be here and now, with the battle over and won and everyone in one piece. He’s going to get his boy naked and have one of those nights they don’t get to have very often in a family of seven where they don’t have to be quiet or subtle or keep one ear out for potential interruptions.

And he’s going to turn those words over in his mind - “When it’s our time, we’ll go together” - warm and safe, until he can trust and believe that they aren’t just a promise, but their future.

#archie cullen #jasper hale #jasper hale/archie cullen #you know what #jalice #it counts #twilight lgbtq #gay twilight #ficmas23 #ficmas #my fic: going to ground #my fic: archie/jasper #i think the final version will be longer #i feel like i can add some stuff #we'll see #twilight: the fandom i started writing smut AND m/m for #archie goes full BSOD every time jasper takes off his shirt #no thoughts only jasper #jasper thinks it's funny because he's scarred to hell and not particularly physically special #still headcanoning archie as either half latino or italian #both work for my purposes honestly #archie and maria just yelling abuse at each other in spanish and jasper refusing to translate Old Spanish slang to the cullens #because nothing that is being said should ever be repeated #could be fun

[raisedinerebor]

Moments with Modern Reader.

Thorin: It is deep into the night. The two of you on watch. There's the smell of woodsmoke and pipe tobacco. The sound of owls and croaking frogs. You don't say much. Listen to the steady sound of Thorin's breathing. Watch the night stars.

It's at night it hits you the hardest. With no one to speak to or distract you. The heavy pangs of homesickness. It turns your guts. Makes you worry, sick.

"Y/n?" You heard Thorin rumble from beside you. Unlike the others he's still the only one to call you by your name. No nicknames. "You are going to hurt yourself if you continue to do that." He pulls your hands apart. The skin is red on the back of your non-dominant hand. When did you?

"Your mind is heavy." You look at him. And with burning ears you look away.

"I suppose." You tell him going back to looking out in the distance. You squint your eyes. Trying to make out something in the darkness.

"There is nothing out there." Thorin tells you. You scoff. Shake your head.

"And how can you tell?" Thorin chuckles.

"Dwarves have keener eyes in the dark than man." It is then you realize Thorin has most likely seen you every time you've made a face or stuck your tongue out at him.

Thorin brushes the back of his hand against your arm. "What ails you?" You say nothing. Shrug.

"It's nothing. Honestly." You tell him. And truly were you to burden him with these thoughts?He has enough on his plate.

Thorin's staring at you. Looking at you as if he were pulling you apart piece by piece. Smoke bellows from his lips. His eyes dart. Then, once again, he separates your hands. This time holding one in his.

It's comforting. You think. A grounding warmth. It's safe.

"It is something. If the mere thought of it makes you hurt yourself Givashith*." He turns your hand. Rubs his thumb across your knuckles. "So tell me. So that I may ease your mind."

You begin to pull in on yourself. Thorin says nothing. Only watched as you pulled his hand towards you. Fiddle with his rings. Twisting them around his fingers. You take a breath. Ground yourself.

"I miss home. That's all." Still you stare at his hand. Wait for a laugh. A mock surely. You miss home. He lost his. His people. Your family is still safe and.

"Relax. You are not being judged." He pulls his hand away. Wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer. He pauses. Waits to see if you'll move.

As if. It's comforting. The smell of him. Rich leather and tobacco smoke. His arm was heavy around you. You leaned closer. Resting your head on him. You felt Thorin tighten his hold around you.

Safe. It was safe here.

"I know that feeling. Missing home. You worry for your family. Your friends. It weighs on you. Pulls you down. The wondering if they are safe or not." You could feel the vibration in his chest as he speaks. Feel the tears in your eyes well. Threaten to spill.

"I would tell you not to worry if I knew it would do you good." Thorin exhaled smoke. Tamped out his pipe. "But I can assure you that you will be kept safe with us. We will find you a way home if we can. Search the ends of Middle Earth for what sent you here. To us." Thorin's head lowered and he brushed away the tears that fell.

"Until then. You will have a home always, in Erebor. Our home. You have helped my Company. I will help you. In this life and the next." The tears fell more freely. "You are apart of my Company. My people. And for as long as you remain, under my protection." He pulled you in. Held you tightly. "I do not say this nearly enough. But you are a gift sent to us. My little Khajimel*. A guiding star in these dark times. Stay. And I will give you a home."

* Givashith: Treasure that is young.

* Khajimel: Gift of all gifts.

Fili: The day had been long. Tiring. At the very least the group had gotten to bathe in the river. The cool water welcomed in the summer heat.

As you were washing you noticed the chipped paint on your nails. Most laid bare save for one or two stubborn blue blotches.

When you got back to camp you pulled your pack into your lap. Digging out a small bag stuffed with things from home you couldn't bear to part with. Out of it came your phone. Long dead. Car keys, chapstick. Mints which you stuck into your pocket. A lighter, a paper bound book and. There! Gods knew how it was still in one piece. Or how you still had it. But it was there. Half empty. But there. Your nail polish.

For the most part the group ignored you. Busy re-braiding their hair or stitching up holes in their clothes. So you left in peace to repaint your nails. A sense of normalcy you hadn't had in months.

Until it came to paint the nails of your dominant hand. You grumbled. Muttered curses.

"What are you doing?" Fili asked. Sitting across from you. You look up. Noticed most of his hair was still loose. Still damp from the river.

"Painting my nails?" More a question than an answer. You held your finished hand up. Fili took it in his. Studied your now blue nails.

"What is it?" He asked still holding your hand.

"It's nail polish? Do you not have that here?" You asked. Fili shook his head. Still holding your hand."Don't touch it!" You almost yelled. "You'll smudge it because it's not dry yet."

"Sorry." He told you. You gave a laugh and took back your hand. Picking the bottle back up to restart your other hand. Or were. Fili stopped you. Took the bottle.

"May I?" He asked. "Paint your nails. I mean." You face flushed. On one hand you didn't have to paint your other hand and mess it up. But also. Fili got to hold your hand.

Actually. That's not bad.

"Ya. Go ahead." Oh ya. Real smooth. Your voice squeaked when you said that. Fili smiles. Laughs. Blasted dwarf.

Fili took your hand in his . Pulled the brush from the bottle. His nose scrunches. "It smells weird." You shrug your shoulders.

"It goes away after the paint dries for a while." With little else to do Fili painted your nails.

It sends butterflies to your stomach. The way he was treating you. Softly. Gently. Careful not to turn your fingers too far. Made sure not to smudge the paint.

"There." He told you. All too soon it ended. "It's very pretty." His fingers brush your palm as he pulls away. "Almost as pretty as you." At that your faced burned. Feeling as if though you would combust you'd sputtered out a thank you.

For what you weren't sure.

Dwalin: You know. You were pretty sure that this was how you were gonna die.

Sure. You did have a part in The Battle of Five Armies. And maybe you did help Slayer Azog the Defiler. You certainly had the scars to show for it.

But this was Dwalin. The dwarf you were sure wanted you dead for most of the journey. It sure felt like it with all the quick lessons he would give you every time the Company rested.

He trained you as if each lesson could end in your death. In the end you learned it was because he cared for you. Worried about your safety as one the most inexperienced in the group.

It was because of his training you lived. Through Goblin Town in Mirkwood. Against the orcs and against Azog.

It was because if Dwalin you were able to keep the Durins' safe. And it was Dwalin you carried your battered body to the healers tent. It was him who stayed by your side until you woke.

It was because of that you were here now. A wooden training sword in hand. Weighted with led to mimic a real one. Dwalin across from you. Seeming like a towering giant at the end of the beanstalk.

Your breathing was heavy. Focused. You hung to every word he told you. Went through drills more familiar to you than the roads of your hometown. You knew it set his mind at ease. Always to keep you safe until he could come. It made your heart warm that he cares so deeply.

Dwalin cared for you like family. With it came an undying loyalty.

For the fifth time that day the wooden sword was knocked from your hands. For the first time you were able to move. A quick roll and a spring from your legs. An unseen pull of the short swords at your hips.

The smile in Dwalins face was nothing short of brilliant. His loud laugh and words of praise filled you with pride.

"Rest pebble." Both of you were breathing heavily. Clothing stuck to sweaty skin. "I'll go and get the water. Wait here." You did. Immediately sitting on the floor when he left as to catch your breath. A smile still at your lips. Both from success and Dwalins praise.

You found it funny he still called you pebble despite your age. An adult by the terms of man. Still a child in most dwarven eyes.

You heard the doors open and close to the training room. A group of young dwarves spilling in. Loudly to.

You stood moving away from the floor to give them space. Instead you sat on the bench that held the shedded outerwear of yours and Dwalins clothes.

You picked up the small silver circlet that marked you as the family of Durin. It was Thorins hands that made it.

It was made of a thin silver. There was only one gem and it rested on your brow. The metal wove around itself to your temples. There it stopped at two ravens on either side. Thier wings held open in flight.

It was precious to you. Not for what it was made of. But from who it came from and what it stood for.

.

You knew Dwalin was going to give you an earful later. You hadn't noticed that the same group of Dwarves came up to you.

"You're y/n. Right? The so called "Slayer of Azog "?" You cringed. Died a little bit on the inside. They laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

It wasn't even the proper title.

"Depends on why you're asking." You told them. Every warning bell your body had to offer was going off. The group numbered three and we're trying to surround you on the bench.

Your stood. Placed the circlet on your brow purely out of habbit. The redheaded dwarf. The one who asked the question, screwed his face in disgust.

"We only wish to meet the person who our King holds in such. High regard." Lord almighty. He could have just said he wanted to spill your guts with the amount of venom he spilled on those words.

Slowly you turned yourself towards the exit.

"Were friends." Family actually. But they didn't need to know that. The red head laughed. Shouldered the other two.

"We also came to see your skill. Surely you must be a fine warrior to have fought alongside the kings and Prince's." At this the others snorted.

Ya well. That was mostly luck and enough spite at life to not die on anyone's terms but your own. And the fact you were kinda pissed Thorin left you behind. Understandable but still.

"I." You shook your head. "No thanks." At that the red head smiled. It made you sick just to see it.

"There isn't a choice here. You will show us. We can't have the king with a weak "friend" can we?" He spat out the word friend as if he had personal beef with it.

They came closer. You stepped back. Still they came. You found your body moving without you telling it to. Shifting and moving into a more defensive posture.

"I have nothing to prove to you, Nidoy*" His face curled into a snarl. Clear disdain for that name. You'd call him worse but then would come the conversation from Balin on how you knew more swears than actual conversation in Khuzdul.

You'd blame Dwalin of course.

"That's sad. Really. I'd hoped you would be more willing." He gets cut off. The moment he made a move to grab you you threw an open palm. Connected the heel of your hand to his nose. Listened to his wail and the crack of bone.

He fell to his knees. Face in hand. Blood spilled from between his fingers. A string of curses left his lips. He barked out something in Khuzdul too quickly for you to fully understand.

The other two gripped your arms. Held so tightly you knew there would be bruises deep within your skin. You swallowed thickly.

When was Dwalin coming back.

Your answer was soon. Very soon.

The red head was in his feet one moment. Coming at you with a fury rivaling Smaug's.

Then he was gone. A blurr of movement in front of you. A cry that rattled your chest.

Dwalin.

The two holding you left quickly. Scrambling out the door and leaving their companion behind.

Dwalin looked murderous. Speaking rapidly in his native tongue. The dwarfs now bloodied shirt was held in one hand. His feet just brushing the floor.

Shit.

"Dwalin!" You yelled. Lord's above you were not about to break that up physically. "Dwalin!" Louder this time. More desperate. Shit please. "Dwalin!" At last he turned. Gaze softening when his eyes landed on you.

"Y/n?" He spoke. You swallowed thickly. Watched as the dwarf tried to run. Dwalin jerked at his shirt. Practically snarling for him to stay out. "Are you hurt?" You shook your head.

"No. I'm not." Dwalin sighed heavily. Shoved the now trembling dwarf.

"Go boy. Get your friends." He leaned forward. Whispered something in his ear that had the dwarfs face drain of color.

He ran. Scrambled to the door.

Dwalin came to you. Turning your head side to side. Checking your hands. Your ribs. He stopped at your arms. Large bruises already forming against your skin. Dwalin ran his fingers over it.

"I am sorry. Pebble. For not coming sooner." You shook your head. Punched his chest.

"Don't be. You can't control what they did. Or even have known it would happen." You pulled away. Looked up at him. "Dwalin. I'm safe now. Besides. I got a good hit in at least." At this Dwalin roared with laughter. Pulled you close.

"Aye. You did. You did."

"Dwalin. You're kinda squishing me."

*Nidoy: Boy

#the hobbit headcanons #dwalinxreader #filixreader #thorinxreader #the hobbit dwalin #the hobbit fili #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #dwalin #fili #Thorin #did i do this right? #the endings good? #lord i hope so #also dwalins may or may not be a rough idea for a future one shot #well see lol #modern reader

[wonder-in-wings]

TIMING: Early February LOCATION: Mossthorn Bog SUMMARY: More like “How to Train your Lamia” AMIRITE Parker (@wonder-in-wings, while on his way home after hunting dinner, encounters a big alligator mutant (@loftylockjaw who wants his food. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

This bog, though cold, was the closest thing Wyatt had to home. Not Boston—not that Boston had ever been home—but the one he’d left behind as a frightened teenager. He wished he could go back, wished he had the courage to face his mother and own up to what he’d done, to what he continued to do… he just felt certain she’d be disappointed, upset, and angry, and he’d never made her feel that way before. At least not that she made known to him. He’d always been her perfect son, eager to help with the restaurant, maintaining his grades in school, excelling in sports and having plenty of friends. But she didn’t know about the night fights, about the money that passed hands when he let himself loose and terrorized lesser creatures and shifters alike. It was one thing to defend himself against the hungry, territorial jaws of his infant siblings and other gators in the swamp, but this was not self defense. This was not even natural, unlike his defeat of the rest of his clutch. This was blood sport. She’d hate that, he knew. It had never been about killing for the sake of killing. So he couldn’t return, and had to make due where possible: that’s where the bog came in.

The lamia was out for a spa day, as it were, ready to relish the muck of the bog and return to his baser instincts—ones that’d been baked in during his first near half-decade of life spent as a monstrous reptile of the swamp. He’d found some decently deep water, which was again, too fucking cold, but no worse than the lake. Actually, it was a bit warmer than the lake, for which he was thankful. The bottom of the bog was squishy and sloppy, the water dark and murky and pungent. The lamia looked like little more than a log among all the moss and reeds and scum, until he opened his yellow eyes at the sound of footsteps. They weren’t terribly close, but not that far off either. He remained still, not really wanting to disturb the peaceful day if he could help it, and not feeling particularly hungry, either. Whoever or whatever it was had gotten lucky today.

——

There was a semblance of where he came from at the Mossthorn Bog, even if the last time he’d been there was when he was interrupted in the middle of his project. Parker held more confidence in that type of environment than any in town, if he was being honest - the soft peat beneath his steel-toed boots squelching as he tread lightly, with a hunter’s gait in an attempt to be as careful as possible. ‘Catlike’, as someone had called it before. He never quite understood the sentiment as he’d previously known cats for being graceless and clumsy as they believed themselves to be agile and clever when jumping up onto countertops that didn’t suit them, but as he finally took the time to learn more, he was starting to come around to the comparison. He tread through the silent, chilly, misty bog that afternoon, feeling slicked with an uncomfortable humidity that coated his skin, but satisfied as he hauled three supernaturally-massive frogs with him with two in one hand and one in the other. It was places like this that reminded Parker of home, and the things he knew to look out for, including him stopping expertly at the edge of what appeared to be more regular earth coated with dull moss. The Warden glanced down at the ground before his eyes scanned up and down an invisible line; the untrained person would’ve missed it but he was standing on a bank, where just under the deceiving surface inches ahead of him was murky brown and gray water. He wondered if there would be any more hibernating frogs in the mud, but as he thought about it and he let his gaze wander absently– When he saw the pair of eyes. Parker recognized them immediately, having grown up with more alligators than humans in his life. As per usual, most of it was completely submerged, having been there long enough to appear to have been reclaimed by nature itself. ‘This is the part where someone else would turn and leave.’ Walker suggested boredly, sarcastically as Parker instead kept his icy blue eyes on the creature, his curiosity and affection for the reptiles keeping him from simply going in a different direction. No, Parker wasn’t someone else, he was Parker, a strange man who lived out in the bayou for his formative years and he opted to find a nearby log to sit on for a while so he could observe it from the shore, wondering how it got there, where it was from and if it knew how far away it was from home. Similar to him sometimes, perhaps.

——

The arrival of the human didn't alarm Wyatt in the slightest, but it did pique his curiosity. He watched as the man stared back at him, then moved to sit on a log and continue watching. How strange. Most folks would've gone running—if they even noticed him in the first place. The pause at the bank was enough of an indicator that this man knew his way around swamps and bogs, and Wyatt wondered very briefly if this was the same person he'd spoken to online, the other Louisiana transplant. Surely there couldn't be that many of them in this town. 

With this in mind, the lamia only waited a few more minutes before moving rather than allowing the staring match to persist for however long the stranger was willing to sit there. With a flick of his tail, he glided smoothly through the pond scum in the stranger's direction. He did angle himself slightly away from the man the closer he came, keeping an eye on him while trying to keep from spooking him. The gator came to a slow stop, lazing at the edge of the water for a few minutes to see if he would remain seated. 

When he did, and when Wyatt felt certain that there was no possible threat, the lamia lifted his massive head out of the water and slid it up onto the bank, parting his jaws and letting out a low rumble of acknowledgement. 

He wasn't going to speak. Not yet, anyway. That fun prank could come later. 

——

However much time elapsed between Parker sitting on that log lightly to when the alligator began to move wasn’t paid much mind by him, and while he did find himself tensing instinctually as the gator moved closer to the shore, he stayed where he was; he’d grown up fighting gators, and now he just had more tools to assist him. There seemed to be something curious about this particular gator as it drew closer to the shore, the Warden thought, in that it was almost moving in a way that wasn’t directed at him. Rather, it seemed as though the creature saw him, the two stared at each other, then it advanced but not out of interest of attacking him. Either that or perhaps the gator didn’t think he saw it, as impossible as that seemed. Parker kept his steely stare on the creature as it drew closer, and closer… and when it could practically come ashore, its head was pulled out of the water in its entirety and Parker realized that this was no ordinary gator. No, this thing was easily twice as big, coming closer to deinosuchus than a living, modern alligator. Admittedly surprised by the size of the head alone, but still not quite afraid (or at least afraid enough to react yet), the Warden grew still. That was, until the massive head was placed on the soft mud, not eight feet away from him - if it wanted to, the gator could’ve tried to take one of his legs and if he himself weren’t quick enough, Parker could’ve gone down the same unfortunate beginning path as Rhett - and opened its mouth.The sound it emitted wasn’t the warning hiss of aggression, but rather… almost like a greeting. Or at least, it certainly knew that Parker was there. Rather lazily, the hunter gathered the legs of one of the overgrown frogs and tossed it over to the creature.

— —

Yellow eyes tracked Parker’s minimal movement, slitted pupils dilating slightly as one of the frogs was picked up. Those parted jaws twitched in response and his head jerked very subtly to the side, but the hint of motion became a full snap at the air to catch the frog in his mouth as it was tossed his way. Free snacks? Fuck yeah, free snacks. Wyatt pushed himself further up onto the bank, getting his arms and legs back underneath him as the water grew shallow around his body. He was built for bipedal locomotion, but his slightly shorter back legs meant that he could easily transition to being on all fours, with a sloped spine and gait similar to that of a scaly, two-ton German Shepherd. 

The man had more frogs, and Wyatt wanted them. He pushed himself up out of the muck, moving slowly closer. Suddenly he was struck by a memory that he’d forgotten about—he’d done something similar to this with a few humans that’d turned up in his swamp back home, when he was about two years old. They were rightfully fascinated by the vaguely human-shaped alligator monster, and surely his small stature at the time had everything to do with them being curious instead of scared. But… he’d shown them, hadn’t he? Ah, yes. He’d bitten off a few fingers of one of them when they reached for his snout. Bearing this in mind as he came to a stop just a few feet from the man on the log, the lamia lowered himself back to the earth. No biting the human, he reminded himself, finding it all too easy to slip back into old habits when presented with a situation like this. It was a tough thing to shake, sometimes, since he’d spent so many years like this after hatching. Maybe if he’d been born as a human, maybe if he’d grown up as a human, he wouldn’t be so inclined to act like a big, stupid creature when he had the chance. But he hadn’t, and he was. He loved it. Thought it was a riot after the fact, but during… well, during interactions like this, he couldn’t help it. It was instinct. 

His jaws parted again and he waited patiently for his treat.

——

The first frog was deftly caught and swiftly consumed, the motion hoisting the large creature a little more out of the murky swamp water. Parker tilted his head slightly and for a moment, he recalled Anita’s large, powerful rattlesnake transformation in the crypt. He wasn’t sure what to call what she was, if there were other things like her but “shifter” would have had to suffice for the time being. He wondered if his unusual company was similar to her. Regardless of whether or not this creature had the intelligence of a human (or at least a mammal), the Warden wasn’t going to treat it as though it was stupid. However, Parker quirked a brow as the alligator monster moved closer to him, stopping just short of one of his steel-toed boots and opening its mouth as though expecting something else. He couldn’t keep a scoff from escaping him and he shook his head slowly, but reached for another one of the frogs anyway. ‘This is why you don’t feed the animals, boy.’ His father reprimanded him in a memory from a long time ago, as Parker emotionlessly pinned an alligator’s mouth shut against the ground after the animal advanced on him. ‘They keep coming back. Start to see you as a dispenser, then get mad when you don’t got anything else for ‘em.’

Wordlessly, he threw the second frog to the large reptilian, taking care not to overaim or accidentally hit the thing anywhere less convenient than its mouth. 

— —

There wasn’t much effort needed to catch this frog, and Wyatt happily gulped it down after it landed on his flat, white tongue. There was not a good reason for this man to not have taken off running yet unless the sight of something like Wyatt came as no surprise. He wasn’t sure if that meant the man knew he was a lamia, a shifter, or just a beast of the bog like so many of the other fucked up creatures around these parts, but… at any rate, it probably meant the man was dangerous. Or at least that he had the capacity to be dangerous, since it didn’t seem very high on his list of priorities at the moment. Still, Wyatt tried to see if there were any visible weapons on his person, and finding none, rose to his feet once more. This time, though, he rose to his full height, stretching clawed hands up over his head and letting out a guttural groan.

Feeling a bit limbered up, the lamia sat in a squat beside the man, angling his head down again as he set one clawed hand on the log. His long snout bumped against the man’s side, perhaps silently asking for that final frog.

—

The catch was expected. The giant reptile standing on its hind legs and stretching as though it were a person was much less expected and it was the closest that Parker had gotten to actually considering retreating for a moment. This was reflected in a subtle move, his legs shifting and repositioning in such a way that made it even easier for him to leap to his feet to get out of the way of a snapping maw with several tons of bite strength behind it. And yet, even as he felt that animal instinct tugging on the corner of his mind, he still couldn’t help but admire the thing; the muscles rippling under its slick, plated skin, the way its teeth neatly layered themselves over its lower jaw. The gleaming yellow eyes, even its humanoid, sloped body. The long, powerful tail. Parker was compared to reptiles on occasion, he remembered throughout his childhood. ‘Why? I don’t understand.’ He had asked, his dull tone still managing to make itself sound curious in its own way, the way his mother had long since grown to be able to tell. ‘You’re an ambush predator.’ His mother replied as she absently cut vegetables for their dinner. ‘You lie in wait for someone or something to bother you. That’s when you strike with decisive precision.’ Did Parker see himself in this creature that “sat” very close next to him now, claws inches away from his flesh and a massive nose nudging him? No. He wasn’t capable of that level of self-reflection, he didn’t think. Alligators were powerful, adaptable and cunning. And this one, a strange blend of human-adjacent movements and primal reptilian genetics, was nosing into his side expectantly, to which Parker calmly gathered his third and final quarry and offered it to the lizard. “Last one I have.” He finally spoke to the creature.

— —

Wyatt devoured the final frog just as quickly as he had the other two, and found himself disappointed that that would be the end of it. His more human, more civilized thoughts were falling into the background, muffled and quiet as his baser instincts took over. He was a hatchling again, toddler-aged and knowing no other life than the life of a swamp monster, only much bigger and much more dangerous, now. 

He could eat the man, and be satisfied for a time. This idea, one that he’d previously told himself to abandon, came back to the forefront. He could be eaten. Flesh torn, blood spilled, bones crunched… memories of eating humans flooded his mind and he let out a low rumble in response, his gaze settling on the seated figure with new intent. He hadn’t been very hungry before, but passing up a meal as easy as this would be a mistake, wouldn’t it? The lamia’s open jaws hung dangerously close to the man, and he was as perfectly still now as he’d been in the water, contemplating a strike. The taste of mammal blood on his tongue was a welcome one, and he wanted—

Wyatt blinked, closing his mouth again and moving to a less threatening proximity, lowering himself to the ground once more. Don’t eat the hand that feeds, he reminded himself, trying to draw on the humanity that’d momentarily been lost. This could be a sweet deal. Just keep playing along. An idea struck him, a rather genius idea, he thought, and he stared up at the man for a few beats before parting those massive, toothy jaws. 

“... last… one,” he grated, doing his absolute best to make it sound like he’d hardly ever spoken in his life. 

——

The monster snapped up the last of his quarry and while Parker was rather looking forward to those, he didn’t blame anyone or anything on the decision he’d made. It would’ve been just as easy for him to simply turn the other way and abandon the beast to the swamp, knowing that it wasn’t close to starving, to go home and prepare the abnormal frogs for himself. He didn’t, though, and now as he sat there, observing the creature getting closer to him, he himself stared up at the thing that now stared back down at him. There was a sense of familiarity about this scene, as Parker himself moved imperceptibly to retaliate if the monster decided to give into its primal nature but unlike last time, when an overwhelming futility had gripped the core of his humbled frame, this alligator mutant wasn’t nearly as large or daunting as the mighty serpent beached in that rocky cove months ago. He might’ve sustained damage. He likely would’ve sustained damage. But he could also move fast enough to exchange a bite with his own dagger to the creature’s golden, slitted eye that stared back down at him. He himself remained nearly motionless and even his breath seemed to cease… until the creature lowered itself, creating some space between the two. Parker, with his blue eyes still warily on the reptilian, allowed himself to breathe again though he felt himself instinctively tensing all over again as those same golden eyes were exchanged with him–

Then the monster spoke. Eyebrows raised in what could’ve been called surprise as the Warden wasn’t expecting this turn of events. Parker was sure that if this had been almost any other human except for Rhett perhaps, this wouldn’t have gone over the way that it was going. He was sure someone else would’ve emoted more. “You’re either more intelligent than I previously thought or I’m under more hallucinogens.” He admitted, his expression returning to its emotionless stare though he kept one of his brows quirked in evident interest. He pointed to himself, not going out of his way to be exaggerated with his motions. “Parker.” 

— —

“Parker,” the beast repeated, struggling with the ‘p’ sound but otherwise mimicking him perfectly. No name would be given on his part—this was the man from Louisiana, the one Wyatt had shared recipes with. There’d be no indication to him that the creature in front of him was a shifter, at least not one that had ever shifted in its life. Wyatt couldn’t even be sure that he’d know what that was, but judging by the abnormal frogs he’d been carrying, there was a chance. Besides being an easy source of food, this was free entertainment. It wasn’t malicious by nature, but there was some amount of bullying behavior in the lamia’s decision to play along like this woven into the deception. Not that Wyatt was psychoanalyzing it himself. He never did that, he likely wasn’t even capable.

Turning himself so he could slowly begin to back up into the water, Wyatt kept his head low. “More…” he growled, wriggling himself deeper into the mud as his top half remained visible. “Parker… more.”

— —

This was a strange situation, indeed. It repeated his name back to him, in a rather clean imitation. If Parker didn’t know any better, he’d have thought that this creature was capable of further speech, but he opted not to think too much about it. The reptilian monster moved once again, slowly turning to sink itself back into the murky depths of the bog once more. Then the Warden’s brow furrowed slightly at the next words the creature said, not taught to it by Parker himself. So it did know other words. “You’re a giant alligator mutant.” He replied first, rather dryly considering the scenario he found himself in. He was still tense, though, ready to move in an instant the millisecond the creature decided to discontinue the conversation in favor of attempting to eat him. “Surely you can hunt for yourself.” He had already given the creature the entirety of his quarry that day; he wasn’t a depository for alligator monsters out in the swamp. ‘I told you once you feed things, they get attached.’ 

— —

A rumble that could’ve been categorized as ‘grumpy’ (if you were the type to assign emotion to animals) sounded in response to Parker’s insistence that Wyatt could feed himself. Of course he could feed himself. He could feed himself right now if he wanted, could have a veritable feast in the form of one bayou transplant that’d keep him full for weeks. He wasn’t incapable, goddamnit, this was just a bit of fun. 

As if to push the point, the creature sank back into the muck and just stared at him, as silent as he’d been when the man had first arrived. He might get back up again and follow Parker if he left, he might not. Wyatt was a fickle creature, guided by instinct and impulse rather than careful, planned out action. Following him would probably be more fun, though. And it might get him to understand that the want was for him to return here another day, with more treats, maybe. 

Only one way to find out, and it required patience. So the beast lay in wait, staring at Parker, challenging him to rise from his seat and try to leave.

—

No response aside from what sounded like a grunt, almost a begrudging ‘hmph’ at what Parker had said. It was impossible for the Warden to know this was what it meant, if that was what it meant, but it clearly knew other words that Parker hadn’t taught it so the likelihood that it held some semblance of higher sentience or intelligence than other brutes was relatively high. The reptilian creature trudged back into the mud and disappeared below the surface until it was back to staring at the hunter with its slitted yellow eyes. And Parker contemplated. He had already made more deals over the past few months than the rest of his life combined up until that point and from what he could gather about this particular arrangement, he got absolutely nothing from it aside from an alligator mutant who probably only saw him as a food source, whether that was from the things Parker hunted or the Warden himself. This was the problem with mammals, he had learned years ago; he didn’t expect critical thought or deep emotions from reptiles. They existed, acted on their instincts and held little if any remorse over their actions. Reptiles were adaptationally intelligent (enough) but emotionally vapid, simple things that were easy to predict because there was no advanced circuitry below the scaled flesh. That was why Parker could identify with them. For now, though, he offered a pointed exhale of his own, not quite a scoff but it also wasn’t as much of an actual ‘hmph’ of his own as it could’ve been. “We’ll see.” Parker replied, placing his hands on his belt and starting to get to his feet though he never removed his icy blue eyes from the smoke-shrouded gaze of the reptilian. 

— —

They were locked in a staring contest as the man rose to his feet, Wyatt waiting patiently until he’d finally moved far enough away that the lamia’s second emergence from the bog wouldn’t seem like an imminent threat. The last thing he needed was this guy pulling a knife on him, or something. Not that it’d do much, the durability of his scales was tried and true, but still. This wasn’t meant to be a fight. 

Keeping on all fours, the beast lumbered slowly after Parker, his head turning this way and that as he glanced around them, a sort of non-threatening display of a lack of laser focus. Part of him wondered if the man lived nearby, because he’d like to know where he lived, if only to further his ability to play little pranks on him. Maybe someday he’d find a gator asleep on his porch, or slinking into his kitchen through a broken window. What fun that would be! For Wyatt. Probably not for Parker. He didn’t really care if it was fun for Parker, though. 

When Parker stopped, he stopped. When the human moved, he moved. He was like a massive, growling shadow, curious to see where his waiter for the afternoon was headed. 

——

His hearing might’ve been deficient but the other nuances in the hunter’s skills didn’t pass him by - he was being followed. Not that the reptilian seemed particularly built for stealth on land, but it still gave the Warden pause on occasion, and he stopped every few steps, noticing that the alligator monster would, too. What was its angle? The swamp provided a measure of humidity that was otherwise absent in the rest of the town, for sure, but the fog didn’t keep the unpleasant chill from stinging Parker’s skin and nose, so he found himself curious about why the reptilian would bother following him. Eventually, as he kept calm and fell into a more steady pace of walking, the unlikely duo neared the edge of the Mossthorn Bog, where Parker eventually turned, keeping one of his hands near the hilt of his broadest dagger just in case the monster decided that the fun was over and that the frogs he’d been given weren’t sufficient enough. “Are you going to follow me into town?” He asked, regarding the creature and locking eyes with it again. “I’m not sure where your level of intelligence rests but I don’t recommend it, if that’s your plan.”

— —

Into town? He lived in town? Damn. So much for that plan. Wyatt took the info rather poorly, letting out a long, soft bellow of complaint, ending it with a hiss for good measure. He sat back on his haunches, regarding the man thoughtfully for a few moments longer, then whipped his tail through the underbrush of the bog and rocked forward, letting his clawed hands sink into the hardening mud. He was planning to stay put, it seemed, and when the warden walked away from him a second time, he did not follow. 

He did, however, wait until Parker was a good distance before calling out in that same deep, gravelly voice, “More!”

#wickedswriting #writing // How to Train Your Lamia #writing with // Wyatt #Bayou Boys // Wyatt #//if I had the tools #//I totally would've made a meme banner

[lizzie-is-here]

like the dawn

part xvii- dust and blood

“if you must die, i’ll envy even the earth that wraps your body” - albert camus

summary: you can’t stop thanos. now you have to deal with the consequences.

wordcount: 4k

warnings: cussing, violence, death (oops), angst (oops), breakdowns, unhealthy coping mechanisms, more violence, fluff if you squint

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll @moonlightreader649 @saranghaey @almosttoopizza @itsprashimusic

a/n: tfw you forget ur writing a series and write a new piece in one night 🤭 anyway, i really like this bit so i hope y’all enjoy 🤍 i love y’all and i’m sorry it’s emotionally devastating also i literally am posting this from class

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As soon as the barrier around Wakanda opens, the entire army charges forward.

You take to the air in an instant, watching in disgust as the dog-like aliens pour from the gap. They’re concentrated right outside the border.

Charging up your powers, you slip through and cast down dozens of blasts on the horde. They shriek and wail in pain as you duck back inside the force field, shooting down the few that try to jump up at you.

They’re easy to kill. Hardly death fodder, if anything. But there’s thousands. And they keep coming.

One tackles Bucky to the ground before you swoop down, kicking it away and blowing it into bits.

“You need to be more careful,” you scold as you help him up. He spins a knife in the new vibranium arm, nodding.

“Yeah, yeah. Go tell Steve that.” He points to your partner, who’s standing in the middle of a river, fighting three aliens at once.

You start towards him, but a few quick punches from the blond kill them before you can even take a step.

“You know what? Never mind,” Bucky says. He stares a bit before smirking. “Violence looks good on him.”

“Hell yeah. Cathartic, even,” you respond. From the water, Steve feels your eyes on him.

He raises his arms. “Are you two gonna join us or just stare at me?” he shouts, before kicking another alien into the muddy banks.

Out of nowhere, a giant metal weapon flies through the air, smashing Rhodey to the ground. When the chain retracts, it returns to the hand of the larger, bulkier alien at the edge of the border.

More aliens swarm in, and you can barely keep them at bay. You don’t want to risk flying, not when that thing easily knocked a Stark-made suit from the sky.

It’s frantic dodging and firing, and the combination of Bucky’s machine gun, shouting from all sides, and the vicious growling of the creatures is overwhelming.

“There’s too many of them,” Bruce shouts over comms. You don’t even have room to breathe, let alone respond. Drawing back your bow, you fire an arrow down an alien’s throat.

“I know! But Shuri has to get the stone-“ You’re cut off by a light striking the ground. The resulting blast is as bright as your powers.

An ax flies from the stream, lighting trailing behind it. Thor.

When the glow fades, the god himself stands in the crater. Alongside… is that a tree and a raccoon? A raccoon with a gun?

“Oh, shit, I really am going crazy,” Bucky mumbles.

You blink a few times. “Then that makes two of us.”

A few yards away, the helmet of the Hulkbuster suit retracts. From the comically large suit, Bruce cackles. “You guys are so screwed now!”

Thor runs at the enemy lines, demanding Thanos as his newly forged weapon glows with power.

With the new arrival, the tide begins to turn. You fight your way to Steve as the aliens are distracted.

“Glad you could join me,” he snarks. You chuckle, shaking your head as you fire arrow after arrow.

“I only came over because you also need to be careful. I can’t kick alien ass and babysit you two.” He dodges an attack before sending the creature flying.

“I’m Captain America, (Y/N), I don’t need to be-“

The alien with the retractable hammer sends it flying towards the blond before you blast it away, searing with heat in the water.

You raise a brow at Steve. “Like I said. Careful.”

Bucky comes running towards the both of you. Right away, you go into alert mode.

“Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“I’m fine.” He promises you and Steve. “Uh, the raccoon with the gun tried to buy my arm, but other than that…”

You all look at the small creature. It’s shouting obscenities as it crawls around.

“I’ve seen weirder,” Steve decides after a moment.

You make a disbelieving sound as you ready another arrow. “Are you sure?”

A low rumbling shakes the ground before he can joke back. Something’s moving, and fast. The ground bulges, and some sort of technical monstrosity tears out.

They’re like giant razors, rolling across the field and ripping up everything in their path. T’Challa calls for everyone to fall back, but you take to the sky instead. Even though the machines are taller than the trees, 70 years of training helps you find the weak spot.

Nimbly dodging the sharp edges, you fire a powerful beam of light into the center of the wheel, along the side where the engine is stored. Thanks to the radiating heat, the whole thing shuts down, crumbling apart and running into the ground.

But there are nine more, and you don’t have the energy to keep this up.

“Sam, Rhodey.” You call out to the other fliers. “Focus on the sides near the center, there’s some sort of engine there.”

They respond in the affirmative, and after a while, drive it back toward the enemy. It’s progress, but it’s too slow. People are dying.

Then you spot a glowing red blur.

Wanda’s powers cover the wheels, tossing them into the air before bringing them down atop the oncoming aliens. She smiles up at you, nodding in unspoken understanding.

She’s unstoppable, really. Whatever her powers are, they pack quite the punch. And it looks like you could almost win with her influence alone.

“Guys, we got a Vision situation here,” Sam says. Shit. He’s tackled out of the air as he heads toward the forest.

From the center of the fighting, Steve shouts, “Somebody get to Vision.”

“I will,” you call to him. It’s not like any of the ugly space dogs are jumping up to where you hover 200 feet in the air, and the alien generals are preoccupied with Wanda, Thor, and the rest of the group. Well, mainly Wanda and Thor.

You hear them before you see them. Bruce trails you as you spot the giant alien and a skinnier male. He’s carrying a scythe.

The scientist lands first and almost immediately starts duking it out with the larger one. So much for teamwork. You practically crash-land between the android and alien, light swirling around your hands.

“Back up,” you warn the wrinkled creature. “Or I’ll blast you back into space.”

He sneers at you, before spinning the weapon in his hands. Okay, not one for conversation, you think to yourself as he charges.

You block the strike by grabbing the pole and slamming your elbow in between the plates of his armor. Even as he crumples to the ground, he clings to the scythe.

You should’ve melted it when you had it in your grasp, because before you can block he leaps up and slices it across your leg. Flinging yourself away from him as you groan in pain, you watch as Vision rushes forward.

“C’mon, c’mon,” you wince, watching the skin stitch together. The cut was deep, and you’re already exhausted. “Kind of in an important situation right now.”

While you’re still down, the alien manages to stab Vision through the gut. You didn’t even think it was possible. One of the robot’s many abilities was to change his density, so if something was thrown at him, it could simply pass through without harm. But as you watched, you saw his body flickering, almost glitching.

“I thought you were formidable, machine,” the thing hisses. “But you’re dying, like any man.” He yanks the weapon from your friend’s body, and only then do you find the energy to blast him back on his insectoid ass.

When your leg is still healing, you stand shakily.

Hissing from the pain, you limp to the alien. He swings the scythe again, but you grab the hilt, kicking it from his hands.

You yank a knife from your belt, allowing yourself to fall back on instinct as you slash and stab. Even if you only manage to nick him a few times, it’s better than letting him close to Vision.

A downward slash here, a stab as he dodges, toss the knife to your other hand and go for the face.

Eventually, you get tired of attacking and he gets tired of dodging. The alien kicks you square in the ribs, knocking the air from your lungs as you fly back. Shit.

He looms over you, scythe in hand. You groan. It probably won’t kill you, even if he stabs all the way through your body. But it’s gonna hurt like a bitch.

Your savior comes in the form of Steve, in all of his spangly glory, knocking the alien off his feet.

“Get out of here!” he yells to you and Vision. “Go! Get to Bucky!”

Rather than doing as he says, you fire off a beam of light at the man, tag-teaming him as Vision struggles to get on his feet.

“I’m not leaving you,” you sternly say. “And I’m definitely not losing either of you dumbasses.”

Steve has the gall to laugh before the alien throws him over a log and chokes him. From behind the two, the android gestures to the scythe. It’s still on the ground.

You grab it as the two fight, tossing it to Vision.

He stabs it through the alien just as Steve starts choking. Raising the shish-kebabed creature before tossing him away, Vision almost collapses before Steve helps him up.

“I told you to go,” the latter chastises. Despite the gaping, glowing wound in his chest, Vision chuckles.

He repeats Steve’s quote from earlier. “We don’t trade lives, Captain.”

A loud boom sounds from behind your group. As soon as you raise glowing hands, Thor bursts through the tree line.

“Hrafn.” He calls you by a language that even you don’t recognize. “I need your help.”

Steve presses a kiss to your hand as you take off, soaring into the air after the god.

“There, target the seams,” he shouts over the howling wind. You can feel his powers crackle. They’re more erratic than yours or Wanda’s, but they’re also destructive. Perfect for blowing up alien ships.

You cast blasts at the tech, your precise attacks followed shortly by Thor’s lightning.

Then something changes in the air. You feel it in your bones. A deep unrest that stills you mid-air.

Your boys. You have to get to them.

Thor’s already gone by the time you drop from the sky. You want to shout for them, but if this feeling means what you think, you don’t want to draw in any attention.

You practically jump a foot in the air when Steve and Bucky appear from the brush behind you.

“Doll,” the latter gasps, hurrying towards you. He grabs your face in gentle hands as Steve joins the both of you.

Swallowing hard, your voice almost breaks when you speak again.

“Do you feel that?” you whisper. It’s haunting, and sends a cold chill up your boys’ spines. “It’s in the air, it’s…”

Steve raises a hand to his earpiece. “Everyone, on my position. We have incoming.”

It’s silent for a moment, then something appears in the woods. It almost hurts, the wave of energy that washes over you.

He’s there.

Thanos is as ugly as you imagined. He’s absurdly tall and purple. But more than anything else, he wears a gauntlet. And there are five stones in it.

He’s come for the last.

Steve expands the shield on his arm, sighing slow and long.

“Eyes up. Stay sharp.”

You stay further back, waiting and watching. Bruce is first to charge, but phases through the titan and lands halfway in a cliff.

Steve is thrown by a purple surge, so is T’Challa. Sam’s wings are deactivated and he crashes to the forest floor.

You run over to Wanda as Thanos fights the others.

“I’ll hold him off.” It’s too late to save Vision. “I’m sorry,” you say, gently squeezing her hand.

Rhodey goes down, so do Bucky, Okoye, and Nat. Plus the tree alien. But you’re not too worried about him.

You draw your bow, aimed on the titan as you pour all of your energy into a single arrow. Light pours from it, searing and burning. You loose it.

Thanos tries to block it, but it soars to its mark in his chest. He goes to rip it out, but you raise a hand and force the light deeper.

He’s groaning in pain now, clawing at his chest where the light is embedded. If you can just get close enough, you can get the gauntlet, or maybe the stones from it.

You creep forward, hand twisting every time he seems to push through the pain.

‘I can do it,’ you think. ‘The gauntlet is right there.’

The second you lay a hand on the golden glove, Thanos’s eyes shoot open. Through the pain and the literal burning hole in his chest, he grabs you and throws you away.

The force with which you slam onto the ground causes your head to fling back, hitting the ground with enough force to knock the average human out.

You blink hazily, gasping for air and words and your boys. If Thanos is going to win and you’re going to die, you want to spend your last moments with them. They’ll move on without you, you think.

A part of you wants them to move on. To remember you fondly and smile as they learn to live without you. But you’re too selfish. You never want them to live without you.

Turning your head to the side, you see Bucky a few feet away. You crawl to him, dragging yourself across the leaves.

“(Y/N)?” he whispers. He’s as dazed as you are.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me, Buck.” Slowly, he pulls you close, shielding both of your eyes from the titan. You don’t have enough energy to even stand, much less put up a fight.

And then the Mind Stone shatters. You feel it, and manage to raise your head to see. Vision’s body is gray, and Wanda is sobbing, but maybe it’ll keep Thanos from the last stone.

“He’s got the Time Stone,” Bucky mumbles. Your heart drops.

Just as he said, Vision is back in the blink of an eye. And Thanos crushes his skull as he pries the stone from his head.

If the energy upon his arrival was powerful, it grows stronger with all six stones. You tuck your head under Bucky’s chin, trying to fight off the headache.

From behind you, Thor strikes. You hear a blow connect, and a whisper of, “I told you… You’d die for that.”

The next words remove any hope you had.

“You should’ve gone for the head.”

Bucky barely manages to roll over to take the brunt of the explosion, holding you even closer. He doesn’t know where Steve is. He’s almost too scared to look up to find him, lest all he sees is his body.

Gentle hands give him a breath of relief.

Steve grabs the both of you, helping you sit up and Bucky to stand.

“Where’d he go?” the blond asks.

From beside you, Bucky feels something in his flesh hand. A tingle, like it’s asleep.

“Steve? (Y/N)?”

You want to scream. He’s dissolving, he’s fucking dissolving and you’ve healed bullet wounds and lacerations and bones completely out of their place but you can’t heal this.

All you can do is hug him as Steve does the same. You’re both crying now, pressing kisses to his lips before it’s too late.

“Please don’t go,” you whisper.

Bucky laughs, scared and quiet. “It’s all right, doll. You two take care of each other, and I’ll see you a long time from now. You’ll be okay.”

“Not without you,” Steve pleads. He can’t watch this. Not again.

Then there’s nothing. He’s gone.

No blood, no screams. Just… dust.

In the field, you see more soldiers turning to dust. They just vanish. Painlessly, at least.

Steve goes to reach you, comfort you and for you to comfort him. He needs to know you aren’t going to disappear too.

And you won’t. A part of him knows that.

But when his hand goes to pull you in it dissolves.

“No.” Your tone is final. You’re shaking and the tears are coming silently now. Grabbing his quickly disappearing arm, you push your powers to their limit. But there’s nothing to heal. There’s nothing to heal because there’s technically no injury. No illness.

You sob out in frustration, wishing for the first time that HYDRA had fucked you up even more if it would let you save at least one of the loves of your life.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve whispers, kissing your forehead. You’re going to be alone again. You’re going to watch both of them die and it breaks him knowing that it’ll break you. “I’m sorry sweetheart, you don’t deserve this.”

Your knees buckle under you and he’s not there to catch you.

Neither of them are.

You cradle your arms to your chest, and curl in on yourself. Your forehead rests on the dust, but you can't bring yourself to gather the remains.

The last time you lost Steve and Bucky, there was still a sliver of hope. But you just watched them both slip through your fingers.

They’re gone.

———————————————————————

None of the surviving Avengers have it in them to pull you away from the dust-covered ground, not when you’re screaming and sobbing hours later.

After the crying, you go silent.

It’s late at night when Natasha comes to check on you.

Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy, your hair is messy from where you’ve grabbed at it, and there’s marks on your hands where you dug your nails in.

She sits next to you without saying anything. Instead, she puts an arm around your shoulder, and lets you lean on her. Your grief is palpable.

As smart as Natasha Romanoff is, she’s slightly lacking in the healthy coping mechanisms department. So she proposes the exact thing that will get you out of this goddamned field.

“Thanos is still out there.”

It’s all she has to say.

“I’m going to kill him. And it’s not going to be quick,” you respond. Your voice is hoarse and level but tired all the same.

She nods. “Once we find him, he’s all yours.”

———————————————————————

You wish you could say that you were excited when Tony came home alive. However, the weeks were blurring together and everything was washed in an all-consuming grief and frustration.

When Tony came off the plane and saw you alone, he knew in an instant.

He knew better than to wish you well, or give you condolences. All of the thoughts and prayers in the world can’t bring back a loved one. Tony knows that more than most.

And the day later, the surviving heroes gather. There’s a new girl, Carol Danvers, another alien that knows the raccoon. You try to be polite, but you can’t. You’re too drained, too tired.

And honestly, you’re angry above everything else. You’re tired of being so fucking sad. You hate how much of your life you’ve spent grieving, and how every time you get something, it���s ripped away in the cruelest way possible.

You’ve lost the ability to distinguish anger and sadness. The ache hurts just the same. Burning.

“It’s been 23 days since Thanos came to Earth.” You look up at Rhodey’s voice, and immediately wish you hadn’t.

You’re met with a picture of Bucky. An ID.

James Barnes. When it flashes away, Steve Rogers takes his place.

You swipe the screen away.

Natasha doesn’t mention it. “World governments are in pieces.The parts that are still working… are trying to take a census and it looks like he did… He did exactly what he said he was gonna do.”

“Thanos wiped out… 50% of all living creatures,” she finishes.

“Where is he now?” Tony asks before you can.

Rhodey shrugs. “We don’t know. He just opened a portal and walked through.”

The genius rolls forward a bit in his wheelchair, pointing to Thor.

“What’s up with him?”

“Oh, he’s pissed,” the raccoon, who’s name you’ve come to know as Rocket, sighs. “He thinks he failed.”

“And he didn’t?” you spit. You know you’ll regret blaming him later. It’s not his fault any more than yours. But now, you just need a reason that you’re alone again.

“No, he definitely did. But there’s a lot of that going around, ain’t there?”

“Honestly, until this exact second, I thought you were a Build-A-Bear.”

You listen to them argue back and forth, tensions rising, flinching as Tony rips out the IV and starts yelling.

“Listen!” you snap. “All I want, is to know where Thanos went.” Your voice starts shaking again, but shit, you aren’t going to start crying. Because if you start, you won’t stop.

“I- I just need to know where he went so I can do what I do best, and… And you’ll never have to deal with me again.”

No one wants to ask what you mean by that.

Nebula, a blue cybernetic alien, speaks up.

“I can tell you where Thanos is.”

———————————————————————

Before loading onto the ship and heading to the planet the titan was on, you dug through an old bin.

Some more of yours and… Bucky’s equipment had been recovered from Siberia a while back. And in your box there was a weapon.

HYDRA had tried to train you with the scythe, with a blade far larger than the one carried by the alien a few weeks ago. It didn’t go well. A scythe really isn’t meant for constant combat. It’s a tool for execution. That’s why you were HYDRA’s scythe.

It’ll work perfectly.

The group climbs on the ship, and jets off. At any other time, you’d be in awe of the vastness of space. Now… you squeeze your eyes shut before you think too much.

Carol flies back up from where she went to scout. “There’s no ships, no armies, no recon. It’s just him.”

The planet is gorgeous. Even through all of your cynicism, you can’t deny that.

Even so, your eyes are set on the cabin in the distance. You split up and arrive last, scythe at your side and your eyes set on the titan.

He’s well restrained. Danvers had him in a chokehold, Bruce has one shoulder in the grasp of the Hulkbuster suit, Rhodey has the other arm, and Thor’s chopped off the hand with the gauntlet.

Rocket turns over the severed hand, and it’s empty.

“Where are they?” you ask Thanos.

Carol tightens her grip. “You heard her. Answer the question.”

“The universe required correction. After that, the stones served no purpose… beyond temptation.”

“You murdered trillions!” Bruce yells, shoving him back.

“You should be grateful.”

Natasha speaks when you can’t. “Where are the stones?”

Thanos gasps from where he’s been punched to the floor. “Gone. Reduced to atoms.”

“You used them two days ago!”

“I used the stones to destroy the stones. It nearly killed me.”

You laugh. “You’re gonna wish it had.” You tuck the scythe into the holder in your back and kick Thanos further into the hut.

There’s so many things you could do. You’ve inflicted horrific tortures on people, and this one is the most deserving. You could grow new bones, you could puncture his lungs or rip apart his organs. You could-

“(Y/N)?” Bruce asks. He moves the suit in front of you, but the look in your eyes will haunt him for years. He hasn’t known you long, but the violence you’re about to inflict scares him.

“Move.” When you go to step around, Rhodey and Nat pull you back. “Let me go!” you shout. Carol charges up her powers, but you shove them all away with a harmless wave of light.

“I am inevitable,” Thanos says. You smirk, cold and unfamiliar.

“So am I.”

You don’t even know what you’ve done until you sink the blade down the middle of his skull.

The body is covered in deep cuts and burns, boiling across the skin and melting the muscles and organs that are visible.

There’s blood. There’s so much blood.

As you step back, Thor takes the head off the corpse in one swing of his ax. The two of you start walking out, intent on leaving and never looking back. The god had promised to drop you off at an old safehouse before disappearing. He was as broken as you were now.

“What did you do?” Rocket whispers in horror. You pause, swallowing down the mix of guilt, regret, and so much grief.

“I avenged.”

#marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes #like the dawn #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x winged!reader #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader angst #steve rogers x reader angst #captain america x reader #infinity war x reader #avengers: infinity war #infinity war #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x winged!reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve x bucky x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky x winged!reader #stucky x reader fluff #stucky x reader angst

[john-frog]

Today is Wednesday you know what that means? Another frog post, today we are looking at the continent of Batrachia, the second largest continent and home to two frogs, Dendrobates spp. and Phyllomedusa bicolor.

Batrachia

Batrachia is, as mentioned above the second largest continent and also the middle continent, in between Bufia and Incilia. It is quite dry evem though warm equatorial currents hit its East side, that is due to the mountain chain present here that even though it is not so high, it causes some Rainshadow effect what leaves the interior of the continent dry, with the predominant biomes being that of savanna, steppe, xeric shrubland and arid desert. While there are some forests in areas that encounter warm currents such as the rainforests of the East coast, mediterranean climates from the tips of the continent, the Western and Northern temperate forests.

The leaf frogs(Phyllomedusa spp.)

Giant leaf frogs are frogs from the Genus Phyllomedusa, specifically from the species P. bicolor. They are known for their skin secretions that are used by indigenous people in the Amazon Rainforest who claim that the poison grants strength or even cure diseases. One of their main characteristics is the extreme size difference between males and females of the species whith the latter being the double of the male's size. Being the largest species in the continent plus the adaptability already present on the other species from this genus on Earth this frog has a predisposition for taking available niches due to the aforementioned Adaptive radiation, exactly what happened here.

Cannibal giant leaf frog(P. gigas) 

This phyllomedusid is slightly larger than their ancestral, however their key difference is not physical but behaviorial. These frogs are very active and aggressive, hunting ivertebrates but principally other frogs including their own species such as the males, who are smaller than females. Other than this predacious behaviour no other customs have chnaged much.

Diver giant leaf frog(P. hydrica)

This and the following species have changed behaviorally in quite a drastic way... The Diver giant leaf frog descended from the trees onto the many rainforest's rivers, evolving adaptations for their new life as semi-aquatic predators. Webbed feet is such an adaptation, being used for better underwater propulsion. Another adaptation for a semi-aquatic life-style is not physical but as all other species from this genus, behaviorial. For this new way of living these frogs, as mentioned before have forgone climbing trees and live mostly near water, coming to land from time to time. As they live close to the water they don't have the need of laying eggs in leaves above water, instead laying eggs directly onto the water with a foam-nest for protection of the eggs.

Ground giant leaf frog(P. grada)

The last but not less important species, the Ground giant leaf frog exploits a niche that the other frogs on the continent don't, large terrestrial frogs. This niche isn't occupied by any other frog as the poison dart frogs are not large enough to compete with the Giant leaf frogs and so this niche was free to be taken. Thus this frog predates upon many animals on the soil including other frogs. Their egg-laying behaviour is somewhat a mix of both previous species, being able to lay eggs above water, hanging on leafs glued together and underwater too, among plants and protected by a "foam".

The new dendrobates(Dendrobates spp.)

Dendrobates spp. is a genus of small frogs native to the Amazon rainforest well known for having their potent poison being used by indigenous people in their blowdarts, which has led to this genus being commonly called as Poison dart frogs. They get their characteristic poison from the invertebrates they consume, what exactly is unknown but it is suggested that some mites and other invertebrates. This selective feeding of only these toxic animals is, added to their diminute size a problem that this genus encountered when adaptive radiating into new species. Yet they suceeded and here are some of the new species from this genus.

Leaf poison dart frogs(D. saltatorius)

The first species we take a look at is known as Leaf poison dart frogs, this is due to their green coloration that somewhat resembles a leaf. They have pactically doubled in size compared to their ancestral species, D. auratus which had an average of between 2-3 centimeters in Snout-to-vent lenght. This comparatively larger size is due to both the great lack of predators and for better locomotion, as their small size grants small jumps, which are not great in an arboreal environment that demands changing from tree to tree in order to reach new hunting grounds. Eggs of this species are laid inside of small water pools formed in the "cups" of bromeliads, where the tadpoles will feed on algae and mosquito larvae, plus any other small animal that may find itself in the pools.

Dead leaf poison dart frog(D. terrestris)

In the same way the Leaf poison dart frog is inconspicuous when sitting on leafs the Dead leaf poison dart frog becomes camouflaged among dead leafs in the ground. They are the descendants of D. leucomelas that-as all other new dendrobatids- doubled in size due to relative lack of predators. These brown-colored frogs live in social groups-which is quite unusual for frogs. Such armies are comprised of 6-10 individuals and will fight with other armies over territory. This species can be found on the monsoon forests that are the frontier between rainforest and savanna, in such locations the frogs aestivate to avoid the summer heat.

Common poison dart frog(D. vulgaris)

Both D. terrestris and D. vulgaris are found primarily on the ground, with the latter being less widespread compared to the former even though it receives the name of Common poison dart frog. This species is one of the least changed, both behaviorially and physically, with the most noticeable change being their size.

Water poison dart frog(D. hydricus)

The last frog species we will see today. Descendant from the subspecies D. tinctorius azureus they sport generally a blue coloration used in camouflage underwater as they are the only semi-aquatic species of the genus. They show Countershading, having a dark blue on their backs and lighter tones on the belly and limbs. These Poison dart frogs are the least toxic as they dont feed so much on their previous prey, now foraging underwater and near the water's edge. Curiously this species has tadpoles that can endure slightly brackish waters, and larvae populations that live near the ocean display the behaviour of swimming downstream into brackish waters when evading predators. Though the larvae can resist salt levels in the water of up to 1225 ppm(parts per million) the adults cannot outstand that much salt around them.

#art #illustration #worldbuilding #digital art #creature art #spec bio #speculative biology #speculative zoology #spec evo #original species #speculative evolution #frogs #frog #frogblr

[shoppncarticles]

The Turtwig Family

Starting our proper foray into the Sinnoh region starts us with the new generation’s Grass type starter, as always, bringing us Turtwig! Turtwig is a delightful little turtle, leaning a little more on the realistic side in terms of design than the past shelled starter Squirtle. All for the better, if you ask me, since Turtwig’s beakier face is a lot more charming. Turtwig is also much more of a terrestrial turtle than the water-acclimated type of Squirtle.

Turtwig’s Grass type also comes in nicely with the sprout on its head, the base of which gives Turtwig the appearance of a little patch of hair, which is positively goofy if you’re able to see it that way. Turtwig’s shell is also said to be made of moist, fertile soil, which sets up Turtwig’s evolutionary path nicely.

Turtwig’s first evolution is Grotle, a turtle who’s started to take on a much more prehistoric appearance and grown shrubs from its back. Grotle is a very nice progression from Turtwig, and feels like one of the more solid middle Starter stages. So far, Grass types are the strongest in that department, for what that’s worth.

The yellow plating on Grotle’s back is I think the best part of its design, and blends well with the green of its underbelly and brown accents. It pairs nicely with the spikes on the sides of Grotle’s jaw as well, making the turtle resemble a young Ankylosaurus in appearance.

Turtwig’s evolution culminates in Torterra, a big beastly tortoise with a whole miniature landscape on its back, becoming a Grass/Ground type. This is easily the most recognizable and coolest part of Torterra, since not only does it have a full tree but also a trio of jagged stones meant to resemble mountains. Thanks to this, Torterra is likely based in part on the idea of the World Turtle, an idea in several mythologies of a turtle carrying the Earth on its back.

Something else I like about Torterra is its overall darker color palette. It gives off the impression of Torterra having grown older and stronger from its smaller origins as Turtwig, who had a comparatively brighter palette, resembling its youthfulness. That’s a pretty subtle touch that I think works very well in adding to Torterra’s bigger, matured appearance. The sunken eyes and jagged jaw also help add to the whole beasty saurus feeling too, especially since its head spikes have grown even more prominent.

Torterra has a lot of similarities with Gen 1’s Venusaur, actually, being a quadrupedal Grass-type starter with some type of botanical growth on its back, but I think Torterra comes out on top by just a little bit in my book. Maybe it’s nostalgic bias talking, but something about Torterra’s more reserved appearance and simpler palette always struck my fancy a bit more. It does make a little more sense for a tortoise to carry a tree on its back than it does for a frog to carry a giant flower, anyways.

Score: 5/5

A terrific trio of turtles.

[Gen 4 Archive]

#pokemon #pokemon review #turtwig #grotle #torterra

[blue-hamble]

Cold drizzle enveloped the Squat Frog Coffee House. The day was heavy with a dark, almost blue layer of thick fog. Mist wrapped itself around ancient trees and obscured the view of the neighboring cliffs. The coffee house lanterns barely brought any light to a passing eye. In this remote spot, time seemed to slow down.

Inside, a couple of dimly lit lanterns cast delicate shadows everywhere. The air was cool and moist, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and coffee. Lute pulled a tray of freshly roasted cliff lion roots from the tiny kitchen oven. He wrinkled his nose at the color. "Hmm...a touch too light." There was a voice that rang out, clear as a bell. "Lute, my boy! Are you in? Something smells delightful." (forum thread: https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/rp/3238950)

Cloud Brush's courier, Shira, stood at the doorway, peering around for other patrons. The middle-aged skydancer quickly took off his rain poncho at the threshold and shook it free of cold droplets. He was dressed in sealskin and linen, and had a well-aged leather satchel around his waist. "Always, uncle!" the coffee house owner called out, already setting a kettle of water out to boil. He stepped out of the kitchen and grinned. "Done with your deliveries for the day? Come sit and rest your wings." "Hardly done at all. Can't see my own beak in this heavy fog! My bones aren't as resistant to the dreary days as they used to be. You still got some coffee? I've got a good bit of treasure for your best stuff. I could use the energy." "Clan is family, and I don't charge family," Lute said firmly. "You taught me that and I will never let you forget. Make yourself warm and let me handle things. You take honey with your coffee, right?" "You're a potash peach, Lu," the skydancer laughed. He took a seat at the counter and set his bags down. "Thank you, and just a spot of honey is enough." The spiral looked at his customer carefully. Shira seemed more careworn--the lines on his face were more pronounced. Instead of taking up space and splaying his elbows on the counter, the courier kept his hands folded under his crossed arms. Even the gleam of his sharp eyes were somewhat pensive that day. "Would you like a special pick-me-up? I think I've got just the thing, if you'd like to try it." Shira didn't answer right away--Lute watched him stiffen in his seat a touch. "You don't have to, if you don't want to," the spiral appended. "But I think it will help with today." There was a long pause before the skydancer visibly softened. He released a long, tired sigh and leaned back in his seat, eyes glassy. "Oh, damned by the doldrums," he smiled apologetically. "I must be more under the weather than I thought, for it to be so apparent. I'll give it a go, my boy. Might as well get it over with, ey?" Lute nodded and turned back to the kitchen, returning with the kettle of water and a mug. The mug was one of many novelty choices--it had a knitted yarn print and the words "holding it together!" comically painted on the side. He set it down solemnly in front of the courier and placed a filter of cliff lion grounds over it. The spiral's gestures seemed almost choreographed as he poured hot water over the fragrant grounds, creating intricate patterns of swirling steam. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee intermingled with the mist, mixing the scents of droplets and roasted cliff lion root in nostalgia. Both dragons took a deep breath of the aroma as the coffee steeped.

After a few minutes of silence, Lute asked his first question. "You hid something. What are you hiding?"

"My grief," Shira replied, almost blandly. "Been thinking about my other kids today. Small grace from the Windsinger that they didn't suffer. Can't help but think of them on days like this." The skydancer could almost see them in the mists hovering over the cup, against the light of the lanterns. Jira, his eldest and bravest, proud of his scrapes. Ailean, his bashful little boy, with a sweet face that could melt the strictest heart. He felt his throat constrict and his chest drop, but talking was a reflex still. "I have my mate and my son, and the clan, and clan is family. I have nothing to fear when grief comes, by all means. It ought to be easier. But I flee all the same. I fly faster and turn sharper, and memorize all sorts of things like routes and escapes, but it doesn't ease any of this...pain and guilt. It's silly, my boy." For a split second Shira's face crumpled and he sniffed as if to cry. Lute turned away graciously to select a sweetener from the shelf. When he turned back to the counter the skydancer had regained his composure, though his eyes were a touch less glassy and still transfixed on the mist. "It's not silly, uncle," the spiral frowned. "I don't think most could do much better. I mean, look at the clan patriarch." "That's not comparable," Shira answered sharply. His face was suddenly stormy. "Lofty's been through trials that could only be shade-sent. Not just children lost but body and mind torn apart! I won't have you minimize his suffering for my comfort!" "I'm sorry" the spiral amended, apologetic. "I don't intend to at all. But you both carry a similar grief. Just because you're flying and walking and talking doesn't mean you're unscathed, uncle." He took the filter of grounds off and spooned a bit of honey in the mug. It glittered and dissolved in the heat with a couple of brief methodical stirs, disturbing the steam. It was a tense few minutes before Shira huffed and took the mug. "I understand your meaning, Lu, and I'm sorry too. I know you don't mean harm. It is a difficult thing for everyone, but the past is past. I should be doing better." The skydancer brought the mug to his lips and took a drink.

Lute cast a watchful eye out the window before asking his next question.

"The past is past. What remains undone?"

"...I don't know. What is their left to do? I've buried my dead and remember them well. I try to make peace with things. Not much else you can do, really. And I'd rather not resort to things like necromancy. We've seen what that can be like." "You have," Lute winced. "How Allie and Nick manage are nowhere near as amiable as things I've seen before. It's a good thing they get along so well--it's definitely one of the healthier kinds of undead bond. If such a thing even truly exists." "There are stranger things in the world, you know," the skydancer nodded. "Nicky's got a breed change scroll on his person at all times in case of any ill circumstance of the emperor variety. That's one way of coping, isn't it? I find it quite an idea." "Auntie Jil wouldn't appreciate that sort of thing easily without her approval." "Indeed she wouldn't! She's a strong dragoness, my Jil. She holds half my burdens and the whole clan in her hand. Decisive in ways I am not, and brave. I would be lost without her. She has heart enough when mine is heavy, and I gladly try the same to be for her." Shira savored his drink, thoughtful. He felt the soft mist that always lingered in the coffee house touch his cheek, like an almost scolding caress. With the deep melancholy in his chest, he wondered if his mate felt the same way today. In that instant, he had an irresistible urge to fly off and be with her. He sniffed again, eyes watery, and he finished his mug in a few gulps. "Home with Jil sounds just what I need right now. I believe that's what I'll do today, my boy. I'll have to postpone the deliveries a day." "Zareen wouldn't mind and you know it. Lucky--the fog has cleared up just for you." In the past half hour, the deep dark fog had indeed receded--leaving only the familiar mist that always surrounded Squat Frog Coffee House. The foreboding weather had become quickly pleasant in record time. The skies were a clear and vivid blue, dotted by softly colored clouds--the air currents even flowed toward home. The skydancer's surprised laugh was a sparkle of sound and relief. "Indeed it has! Thank you for the coffee and the company, Lu. You've got a true gift." The courier was reinvigorated, almost humming in anticipation of the flight home. He jumped to his feet and moved around the counter to give the somewhat nonplussed spiral a warm hug. "When you've got time, you should come over and have dinner," he murmured. "Don't forget you have home now, Lu. Clan is family, and Jil misses you. Shij would never admit it but he does too." Lute laughed and returned the squeeze. "I'll try my best when I can, uncle. Give my best to auntie and Shij." With a quick salute and a flash of feathers, the skydancer dashed outside to spread his wings. It took but a moment for him to take off--a hallmark of Shira's strength and endurance in flight. The coffee house owner waved goodbye from the doorway, used mug in hand. The fog was sure to creep in again after an hour at most, but an hour was all Shira would need. Thank goodness for the cliff lions, even if they were roasted a touch too light. The spiral blinked at Squat Frog, who didn't return the gesture.

"Not too bad, all things considered, froggy. Let's hope we'll be helpful still the next time."

#flight rising rp #fr rp #clan cloud brush #squat frog coffee house #fr clan lore #flight rising clan lore

[trendingfashions]

he 10 Strangest Places on Earth

The 10 Strangest Places on Earth

The world is a strange and wonderful place, and there are many places that defy explanation. From colorful lakes to giant rock formations, these 10 places are sure to leave you scratching your head.

1. Spotted Lake, British Columbia, Canada

Source; The New York Times

Spotted Lake is a lake in British Columbia, Canada, that is known for its colorful water. The lake is actually made up of four interconnected lakes, each of which has a different color. The colors are caused by the presence of different minerals in the water. The lake is also home to a variety of plants and animals, including the Spotted Frog, which is only found in this area.

2. The Giant's Causeway, Northern Ireland

Giant's Causeway, Northern Ireland source;Wikipedia

The Giant's Causeway is a UNESCO World Heritage Site in Northern Ireland. It is made up of thousands of hexagonal basalt columns that were formed by a volcanic eruption millions of years ago. The columns are arranged in a way that looks like a giant's causeway, hence the name.

3. Thor's Well, Oregon, USA

Source; IFLSCINCE

Oregon is for Adventure

Thor's Well is a natural phenomenon in Oregon, USA. It is a large hole in the ground that can create a whirlpool-like effect when the waves crash into it. The hole is named after Thor, the Norse god of thunder, because of its powerful appearance.

4. Pamukkale, Turkey

Source; Geology Science

Pamukkale is a thermal spring in Turkey that is known for its white travertine terraces. The terraces were formed by the calcium carbonate deposits from the springs. The terraces are a popular tourist destination and are said to have healing properties.

5. Lake Hillier, Western Australia

Source; our breeding planet

Lake Hillier is a lake in Western Australia that is known for its bright pink color. The color is caused by the presence of a type of algae called Dunaliella salina. The lake is located on Middle Island, which is part of the Recherche Archipelago off the coast of Western Australia.

6. Badab-e Surt, Iran

Source; Wikipedia

Badab-e Surt, Iran

Badab-e Surt is an area in Iran that is known for its colorful hot springs. The springs are located in the Kavir Desert, which is a large desert in Iran. The colors of the springs are caused by the presence of different minerals.

7. The Tianzi Mountains, China

Source; Times of India

The Tianzi Mountains are a mountain range in China that is known for its dramatic red sandstone cliffs. The mountains are located in the Zhangjiajie National Forest Park, which is a popular tourist destination in China.

8. The Nazca Lines, Peru

Source; Encyclopedia Britannica

The Nazca Lines are a series of large, ancient drawings that were made in the Nazca Desert in Peru. The lines are made up of lines, geometric shapes, and animal figures, and they can only be seen from the air.

9. The Bermuda Triangle, North Atlantic Ocean

Source; Wikipedia

The Bermuda Triangle is a region in the western part of the North Atlantic Ocean that is known for its high number of unexplained disappearances of ships and aircraft. The triangle is bounded by Bermuda, Puerto Rico, and Miami, Florida.

10. The Hand of Fatima, Morocco

Source;Tour Marocco and the Jerusalem Post

The Hand of Fatima is a rock formation in Morocco that is said to be a sacred site for the Berber people. It is believed to offer protection from evil.

These are just a ten of the many strange places on Earth. Each place has its own unique story and history, and they all offer a glimpse into the wonder and mystery of our world. So next time you're looking for a vacation destination that's a little bit out of the ordinary, be sure to check out one of these strange places. You won't be disappointed.

Here are some additional facts about these strange places:

Spotted Lake is said to have healing properties, and people have come from all over the world to bathe in its waters.

The Giant's Causeway is one of the most popular tourist destinations in Northern Ireland.

Thor's Well is a dangerous place to visit, as the waves can be very powerful.

#Spotify

[kiiiiiim]

I posted 6,938 times in 2022

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I tagged 4,677 of my posts in 2022

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#supergirl - 558 posts

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Longest Tag: 139 characters

#or nia hugging kara on the ship and being all 🥺 i missed you so much i love you but where the hell are your bangs dreamer didnt dream this

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Hi! Are you still doing that 5 sentences prompt thing? 🙂

I'd like to suggest supercorp + puddle

(These sentences are so long and I cheated with excessive commas but this was fun anyway here you go first writing challenge of 2022 yayyyy)

She hears a shriek from outside, shrill and high-pitched, like a seagull's cry carried on the wind - her drink steams lazily in the intimate dusk of their usual coffeehouse; across the table, a second cup of something overly sweet and loaded with calories sits half-finished, whipped cream topping rapidly deflating in the handmade glazed ceramic mug - Kara said she'd only be a minute, some minor accident half a block away she'd wanted to check in on and Lena had waved her away with a smile, go on, I've got some light reading to catch up on, yes I will order another sprinkled donut for the table for when you get back, love. Another scream pierces the air and Lena's eyes dart around the immediate area looking for its source, the first syllable of her girlfriend's alter ego already on her lips when she swivels her head towards the window and stops mid-word - there she is - Supergirl, Kara, in the middle of the street standing next to a blown fire hydrant that definitely had been in perfect working order five minutes earlier on this sweltering summer day, a thick jet of water shooting up into the air like National City's own miniature Old Faithful - a herd of small children dancing around her in the falling mist. Kara's suit is drenched, hair plastered to her cheeks and neck, but her smile is a mile wide as she chases the kids in circles, makes an exaggerated jump, and bright red boots send a puddle of ice cold water spraying those unfortunate (or fortunate depending on who you asked) enough to be caught in the splash zone. She throws her head back in a fit of laughter, so full of life and happiness and pure joy that it makes Lena's heart swell with a wave of love that feels as if it might burst at any moment. She cups her jawline with one hand and rests an elbow on the table, coffee and tablet completely forgotten - work can wait, she thinks, and watches her beautifully glowing puddle jumper instead.

108 notes - Posted January 29, 2022

#4

I'm rewatching The Good Place and a criminally underrated moment for me is when Michael gives Jeff the frog thermos and Jeff's face just lights up because... FROG. THAT'S A FROG. LOOK AT THAT GREEN FROG HE'S A JUMPER YOU CAN TELL. And it's such a small gesture but it made someone so happy and yes I know this is fiction but God small acts of kindness really just do it for me it's all about the act the thought the selflessness give someone a frog today please I assure you won't regret it.

167 notes - Posted January 12, 2022

#3

220 notes - Posted February 20, 2022

#2

For the ship and prompt 5 sentence fic: Supercorp + travel :)

You said 5 paragraphs right?

Kara flies her to the ends of the Earth every night that first month.

They dine on the very best dishes in every bustling city from Metropolis to Madrid, watch the sun rise over the rolling hills of Dublin and set under the Caribbean's diamond-scattered horizon. She takes her deep into uncharted lands, virgin and untouched by humanity until their bodies christen the ground with first footsteps, picking stones and pebbles as they walk hidden beaches away from prying eyes, laying on their backs atop ancient ruins together, rough with weather-worn edges and divits that brand Lena's soft human skin as they talk about nothing and everything. Kara flies her above the clouds only to descend into a storm, and Lena learns the taste of warm rainwater on Kara's skin as their clothes soak through in seconds. Argo is lovely and perfect, and when Allura pulls her aside to whisper, you make her so happy, Lena is not ashamed to cry in her arms and reply, I have never been so happy in all my life, all I want is to make her feel that way too.

Kara smiles and tilts her head one night, after everything has gone quiet and they both can rest, so, where do you wanna go now? Lena slowly steps into her arms, brushes both thumbs across the apples of her cheeks, buries her fingers in blonde-streaked hair and rests her forehead against hers, warm breath mingling together in a dizzying haze. Lena murmurs, smiles when Kara's fingertips tremble on the nape of her neck,

"Here."

Afterwards, Kara hovers atop her body, sweetly kisses her down from on high, whispers gently, "I want to give you everything, be everything you never had. I want you to know how loved you are, Lena. I want... I want to take you to worlds you've never known."

And Lena pulls her down, wraps her arms around sweat-slicked skin, nuzzles into Kara's neck until she finds the sensitive patch just below her ear, kisses and kitten licks until all the breath leaves Kara's lungs in a strangled exhale.

Lena smiles. "Oh, Kara," she says, "You already have."

255 notes - Posted February 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

557 notes - Posted February 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

A Lake Born out of an Earthquake

At their most deadly and destructive, earthquakes can topple buildings, crumple roads, and trigger tsunamis. They can also fundamentally reshape the landscape, reroute rivers, and even form new lakes.

The latter took place in the northwest corner of Tennessee in the early 19th century. Between December 1811 and February 1812, three earthquakes with magnitudes greater than 7 occurred in the New Madrid seismic zone, which encompasses southeastern Missouri, northeastern Arkansas, and neighboring parts of Tennessee and Kentucky. The last of these quakes, on February 7, 1812, centered near New Madrid, Missouri, was especially notable: It temporarily rerouted the Mississippi River, permanently dammed the Reelfoot River, and directed water to fill in a low-lying area to form Reelfoot Lake.

More than two centuries later, Reelfoot Lake remains a persistent feature on the Tennessee landscape. The OLI-2 (Operational Land Imager-2) on Landsat 9 captured this image of the lake, surrounding wetlands, and the nearby Mississippi River on November 27, 2023.

Rivers that run over fault lines are susceptible to being stopped abruptly and wrenched askew when the ground shifts. Earthquake-induced river avulsions, or sudden changes of course, have been documented throughout history. In 2016, for example, the Kaikōura earthquake in New Zealand effectively dammed the Waiau Toa (Clarence River) and forced it into an entirely new channel.

In the case of the earthquake that formed Reelfoot Lake, lore has it that the shaking even made the Mississippi flow in reverse for a time; however, that may have been an illusion from earthquake-generated water waves traveling upriver. The shaking virtually destroyed the small Missouri town of New Madrid. Eyewitnesses near the epicenter also described trees being uprooted and the ground rising, falling, and cracking open. People in distant cities such as Boston, Detroit, and New Orleans reported to have felt the shaking.

Some geologists consider the New Madrid seismic zone the most hazardous earthquake region east of the Rocky Mountains. Yet its history of large quakes and risk of future destructive activity remain sources of inquiry and debate. Geologists understand less about what causes earthquakes in the middle of tectonic plates than they do about ones at plate boundaries. What they do know is that seismic waves in the eastern U.S. travel much farther than they do in the west, so tremors of the same magnitude affect a larger area.

The Reelfoot Lake of today is a haven for boating, fishing, and watching wildlife. Bald cypress (Taxodium distichum) trees grow in marshy areas, while stumps from pre-flood forests are submerged in the water. The lake is surrounded by wetlands that comprise a state park and national wildlife refuge. Bald eagles and waterfowl overwinter in the area, while songbirds, frogs, and other aquatic life abound in the spring and summer.

NASA Earth Observatory image by Wanmei Liang, using Landsat data from the U.S. Geological Survey. Story by Lindsey Doermann.

#science #space #nasa #news #earth observatory

[fearsome-series]

Book One [Book Two]

Chapter [One] | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine

Laura leapt from one bank of the stream to the other, onto the swampy earth by the lake, she sniffed, smelled frogs in the mud, a fish surfacing in the middle of the water, heard the ripples strike the far shore, she…

Knew her pack was nearby, knew it from the rustling in the grass. She lingered a moment in solitude. Under the moon, under the stars, the night, she used to think nights like this were quiet but now she knew better. She knew the rabbits in their burrows and the buzzing dragonflies, she knew the fireflies and the coyote wiggling away underneath a cracked fence that smelled of rusty wire, she knew the raccoons and the owls, she knew the tiniest mouse underfoot and her fellow werewolves, the largest predator in the swamp, pushing down grass and reeds with their every step…

Couldn’t help but howl. Look up to the moon, and howl…

Oh, no.

Laura’s father stared at his blood-drenched daughter with a half-open jaw and all-open eyes. Chilly September wind blew through the open window. Laura shot a glance down at her gray hoodie, now thoroughly stained red. Gef was nowhere in sight.

“Laura!?” Chris cried out.

“Uh…”

“Laura!?!?”

“Sorry, uh…”

“What! How!?”

“I’m...doing fine, dad! Everything’s fine in Laura-land. How about you?” Silence for a couple seconds.

“Fine!? Fine? There’s so much blood! Oh my God, Laura, are you alright?”

Quick, she thought! Think of something. Anything! God! “I...cut myself shaving.”

“Shaving?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s why I can’t wait for, uh, lasers. Y’know. Shooting the hair off my face. But I’m fine.”

“That much blood? You’re really hurt.”

“I, uh…uh…um…uh…I’m a woman, dad.”

“What.” 

“I’m…you know…blood…science is amazing.”

“I need to get your mother. And your doctor-”

A wet thud on the bedside table. Laura slammed shut her eyes. She could smell the rabbit’s blood - and the dirty mongoose scurrying through the window after it. Damn it, Gef.

“A present!” he said in his smuggest tone, so pleased with himself.

“Laura! Did that ferret just - what’s…?”

Laura sighed long and hard. “Thanks, Gef.”

She opened her eyes. Chris still frozen. No closer to understanding a thing. Did she have to tell him the truth? She didn’t even know herself.

Howls and the werewolf with the blood-streaked face tackled her to the ground, jaws wide, teeth glistening, hotly slobbering and

“There’s, uh…”

“Laura, I’m gonna go call-”

“Wait.”

another roar and Jessie pounced, she swiped one paw against his face and he broke off and ran into the grass, his face dripping blood

“So you know that animal that bit me in the woods? The one that they saw at the hospital? In Elkhorn? The one mom saw by the library and screamed at? When you were in the park? With the German guy and the guy who offered you a gun?”

Alice and Emily watched as she staggered up, paws outstretched to help her, Emily growling and then looking grateful, so grateful, nuzzling her gently

Chris blinked.

“So it wasn’t a bear, or a wolf. It was, uh, more than that. I mean, uh…” just say it you idiot, she screamed at herself. “It was a werewolf. It was me. It’s a werewolf and it was me by the park and in the hospital and. I’m a werewolf.”

running in the grass so free so fast so much to SEE and a deer bounced up ahead and she chased after it she ran and ran and pounced and

“And this blood isn’t mine! Don’t wor...rry...okay, uh, that may not sound any better. But it isn’t a person’s. It’s a deer. Deer blood. I know we’re vegetarian, but...I didn’t really have any…” She noticed her dad’s face. Utterly blank. Oh no.

she tore in and she knew she shouldn’t she knew the deer hurt she felt it struggle felt it die and she ate it slowly, alone, under moonlight

“I...I need to call the doctor right now,” Chris said gravely, turning to leave. As Chris dashed out the door, Gef jumped on his shoulder, crawling up to stare him straight in the eyes.

“Look! Listen! I am a mongoose who talks! I am three centuries old and I talk! And yet you doubt your daughter?”

“I-”

“Trust your eyes! Your ears!”

Chris stopped. He thought.

“Y’know, I don’t know what’s going on.” Chris started. “But I can’t say no to a talking mongoose in my face.”

“So you believe me?” Laura asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But it’s probably the best reason for your daughter to be covered in blood. Uh, you said it was a deer, right?”

“Yeah.”

Chris took a seat at Laura’s desk. “Is there anyone who can...help you with this?”

“You do believe me, right?”

Chris didn’t say anything.

“There are some others. There’s this person, Jessie, who could...they could explain it better.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she lied.

“Alright. Who’s Rin-Tiki-Tavi over here?”

“Gef,” Gef hissed. “I’m -”

“He’s helping.”

“Ah,” Chris said simply, starting at Gef. “He's staying long?”

“No, only a couple days.”

“Can he promise to not bring home any more blood or...rabbits?”

“I can. And Jessie’ll talk to you later…”

“Yeah. I want to meet this Jessie.”

“Thanks, dad.”

He moved in to give her a hug; she accepted it. He walked over to the doorway, grabbed the knob, winced, wiped streaks of red off his hand onto his shirt, and opened the door and went outside.

-------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Gef?” asked Laura, trying to find a place for her blood-stained hoodie. Pile of dirty clothes…no, that just makes it bloody…laundry…nope, blood still gets everywhere…she finally shoved it in the trash. Wait, no, then the cops might…

“Yes?” He said, perched on her table, not aiding one iota.

“Get out!”

“Oh? What’s this about?”

“No more rabbits! You promised me! And since you broke that promise, I get to tell you to get out.”

“I didn’t break my promise.”

��What? Yeah, you did.”

“No - never!”

“Liar! Get out!”

“I promised not to give you any more rabbits. That one was for your father.”

“...really?”

“Yes. A man of his word, I am.”

“Okay. No more rabbits for anyone then. Ever. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good. Now go...dig up a worm or something. You freak.”

“I have to observe you!”

“Yeah, about that. Aren’t you supposed to go back to Eliza today? And who’s Eliza anyway?”

“Hmm, I’m no happier about my stay being extended -”

“Now go dig up a worm!”

“Hmph!”

Gef scurried out the window. She slammed it after him. With all that out of the way, she needed to get ready for the day. Ignoring the dank smell of iron-rich blood in the corner, she opted to go more girly for the first time in a while. She usually wore hoodies, partially out of laziness, but also to blend in - become unremarkable. No one at King High knew her as anything but Laura, but she still had some anxiety about being so openly trans. But hey - she didn’t exactly wake up subtle and unremarkable, so why start now?

She picked out a dark gray skirt, denim jacket, black t-shirt and green choker necklace. Taptaptap. Gef at the window. Do I have to open it? Laura did, and then flopped on her bed. Checked her phone. Wait. Wiped the blood off her phone.

They were staring at her in the van oh god they were asking why -

Laura sighed. “You know what, Gef? Thanks. Without you, dad would’ve thought I was a serial killer or something.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I mean, dad was right. A mongoose yelling in your ear is kinda hard to say no to.”

“Hmm, yes. Again, welcome.”

“He may be deaf now, and scarred for life, but hey, he believes. So...thanks.”

“You’re still welcome.”

“Have you had to do that a lot? Like, explain this shit to people?”

Gef paused. Then he spoke simply. “No, not really.”

-------------------------------------------------

Laura walked out to the kitchen, where her dad was making something and her mom Heather was venting about work.

“You decided if you can make it to the play?” Chris asked.

“Doesn’t look like it, unfortunately,” mom replied. “There’s a special session tonight.”

“Aren’t they going to end it in two seconds?”

“Yes, but they’re making us do live coverage anyway…”

“Hey, mom,” Laura took a seat, rubbing her eyes.

“Good morning, Laura. Chris is making...what are you making?” She sniffed. “What is that?”

“Uh, sausage,” her dad explained.

“Sausage? Meat sausage? Sausage from an animal killed for its meat?”

“The doctor said Laura needs to eat meat for now, remember?”

“Oh. Oh, yes, she did. That reminds me, Laura, can I talk to you in the living room?”

“Uh...okay.” Laura followed Heather into the living room, her mind racing through everything it could be. She knows. She saw the blood. She saw me sneak in. She knows.

“How are you feeling?”

“Uh, alright? Considering everything, I’m alright.”

“I’m happy you’re better, but you don’t seem like someone who nearly...whatever you need us to do. No matter what it takes. You staying at the hospital overnight, or even bringing meat into the house. Whatever it takes, Laura. But you have to be honest with us.”

“When wasn’t I honest?”

“I don’t know. I was worried last night, when you went to bed early. You seemed so quiet. But…I’m not accusing you of anything, I’m just saying I want to know what’s going on, okay? You can always tell me.”

“It’s okay, mom. I know?”

Heather quickly hugged Laura, who was relieved that she was happy - and that she didn’t want to know more.

-------------------------------------------------

Alice looked over at her house. At the one-story home, sandwiched between others on a quiet lane. At the IN THIS HOUSE WE BELIEVE… sign on the lawn to the left of theirs, and the RON JOHNSON ‘22 sign on her lawn. Time to go home…

“Are you okay, Alice?” It was Emily’s mom, Rebecca, a dwarf - do they say dwarf anymore? Alice didn’t know - shorter than her daughter, and well shorter than Alice.

“Yeah,” she said. “Need to go home, anyway.”

“Remember, if you want to hang out at our house or at Wulver, we’ll vouch for you.”

“I know. But I should get back,” she nodded towards Emily, and opened the door.

“See you at school.” Emily waved, her mom drove off, and…

Alice walked in her door. Her parents Kevin and Ruth were already up, and making breakfast, eating not at the table, but huddled with her little brother Cody by the TV, watching…

“The liberal media’s not telling you the truth about Hunter Biden’s laptop…”

“...hi?” She called ahead. She took another step in.

“Next up, when this small town’s library tried to start a drag queen story hour, the people fought…”

“Hi. Mom, dad, Cody.”

“Alice!” Her mom said. “How was your sleepover at Emily’s?”

“Oh, it was…it was fine.”

“We really should meet her family sometime,” her dad said.

Please don’t, she thought. “Sure, yeah…”

“Could you check on your brother?”

“Of course…” She looked back at Cody, eyes glued to the TV, plate of half-eaten bacon and eggs in front of him; and then she went into the baby’s room. Her littler brother, Kyle, let off one cry. Alice sniffed the air and gagged, but she picked him up anyway. “There, there…” She looked through a crack in the door at Kyle’s parents. “There, there…”

-------------------------------------------------

Emily quickly exited the car.

“Emily -”

“Gotta get ready for school,” she said, fumbling for her keys.

Rebecca was a foot shorter than Emily, and taught elementary school; whenever Emily saw her in her classroom, she blended in with her kids. She ascended the steps after her, jumped by, and unlocked the door. “It is late, huh?”

“Yeah.” As Emily walked in, she could see that her other mom, Bethany, had already left for work at the college. “I’ll heat up something for breakfast before I get on the bus.”

“Okay, just make sure you eat something.”

“I’ll remember, mom.” She wouldn’t; she shut her bedroom door behind her.

She picked up her bag, sat it down on her bed, started to rifle through it…

Who was that werewolf last night? The feral one. The pack had met one before, about a year ago, but could it be the same one?

Could it be…?

Emily rifled through her vinyl collection, not looking for something to play but just to do something with her hands. Sigh. What if they aren’t an urban legend after all. What if they are. What if…what was that old meme…what if the world was made of pudding? So stupid. She laughed at the stupid joke her own brain dredged up from its depths.

-------------------------------------------------

As Manuel made his way to the bus stop, his head was lively with debate about the events that happened the other day, such as: is Laura really a werewolf? Are Emily and Emily’s friend werewolves? Are werewolves really real? What does Laura’s fur look like? What do Laura’s claws look like? Does Laura have a tail when she’s a werewolf? Is Laura crazy? Am I crazy too and did she make me crazy?

He had watched the news last night with his family, and they talked about how they had caught the coyote that had attacked a police officer in the hospital in Elkhorn, and a coyote seemed like a potential not-a-manwolf (not-a-womanwolf?). But Laura swore she was a werewolf, so…

So, so, so. Soso. Manuel sat crisscross on the sidewalk with his hands on his chin and waited for the bus.

-------------------------------------------------

Alice slung her backpack over her shoulders; as she did, her mom walked into the room, arms crossed.

“Alice, I have something I need to ask you.”

She let her geometry textbook fall back onto the bed. “Yeah, mom?”

“Do you know anything about...animal people?”

Animal...animal people. Animal people. They know. Oh, geeze, they know. “Um, I don’t know what you mean, mom.”

“Does your school have…” Ruth looked deep in thought for a moment. “Furries?”

“Furries…?”

“Anyone who wears tails and ears, and make teachers call them animals. Anyone who uses a litter box instead of a toilet?”

The heck is she talking about? “Um, I haven’t seen anything like that.”

“If you ever do, tell us straight away. I can’t believe what they’re doing to our schools.” Ruth clucked her tongue. “Do you ever get frustrated that we can’t homeschool you? Or afford to send you somewhere private?”

“I don’t get frustrated about that, mom. I understand.” Alice weighed the options, and decided to pick up her textbook and file it away in her bag again. “I know you and dad work real hard to keep us where we are.”

“If only we didn’t have to move away from home,” Ruth sighed. “But God willing, things’ll work out soon enough…”

-------------------------------------------------

Smelled him.

Smelled him smelled him smelled him. What they wanted. What they needed. What they wanted was the smell.

He stood by the blue post. He was looking at his...his...his slab. His little lights.

Yes he was there – yes he was right there where its teeth could get him – yes he was right there where its teeth could…

Sniff sniff.

Not him. Retch. Not him.

No teeth. Not now. Not...now.

[dndfuckhouse]

Session 45 - Blood Under The Fields

> 🎵   The Forgotten Village  / Folklore OST

Pulling back to the small town of Greenpea, the party find themselves standing in a sloped field overlooking the farms of the area. Their new friendly frog stares up at them all from its spot seated on the dirt near a pumpkin, having led them all here, it croaks lazily again.

The wind blows in the middle of the night as they feel a sense of unease shroud them all, though they cannot place why. Keva offers to lift the frog back into the bucket, but after giving it a stare it stays put seemingly content for the moment.

Cimmorro looks around alert to check if anyone’s watching them, but he gets the sense they're alone for the moment, aside from the frog. Keva keeps an eye on it to make sure no harm befalls it as they look around.

Han begins to check the ground, shifting around some of the dirt and looking for anything suspicious. At one point she feels the earth shift beneath herself slightly in a strange way, looking down and pressing again with her foot she feels something creak slightly beneath the dirt.

Han: han presses harder "theres door here?!" Cimmorro: cimm looks at you then looks down at your feet as if waiting for you to open it or something Han: gonna start shifting the dirt around the frog to look at the wood "i mean, its wood, maybe its not DOOR..." digging Frog: the frog gives a little croak as it notices your discovery

As Han clears more dirt away, she makes out what seems to be a hatch or door in the ground.

Han: 😮 "it IS door..."

The group give it a look and see a small metal padlock at the bottom end of the hatch, Keva shuffles Han aside and begins to pick it open. She gets a sense it might be hard to pick but as soon as she starts its over within seconds, the metal clicks open and falls off.

Han: han claps n goes wahoo quietly

She grabs the end of the hatch and wrenches it open with a creak as the others watch on. Opening it up streams of dirt and dust cloud their vision for a moment as they glance down. They see what looks to be a short ladder leading down into a small dirt hallway, reinforced by poor wooden beams. They can see dried blood ever so faintly coating the ladder and dirt below it.

Cimmorro gets a sense that some of the blood is months old, though patches here and there look more recent, a couple days or so old. Keva also eyeballs the entrance for traps, but finds it clean.

Cimmorro: i relay this to everyone quietly and add "seems like this place has seen a lot of use" Psalm: "Oh great."

Rokka stretches his ear to listen down the hole, but doesn't pick up anything aside from the quiet. Cimmorro also casts detect undead, but picks up nothing strange.

Chip: nothing pinging except for your best friend [finn] Cimmorro: swatting him away like a fly in my mind) Finn: staring daggers at you and exploding you in my mind)

Keva: i offer the bucket to the frog again since it seems like this is where we're going next Frog: the frog peers at you again and croaks before hopping over, it lands with a 'plop' in the water

Glancing down the hole again Cimmorro gives it a sniff, it smells like dirt, iron and fresh blood. Looking down again he notes a faint light coming from down beyond the dirt hallway. He notes it doesn't look very deep, maybe about 14 feet or so.

Han gives a glance for any tracks, or signs of anyone having been here recently. Hard to tell upside after they displaced all the dirt, but down the hole it appears to be recently traversed by someone at the very least.

Finn: finn steps close to the hatch and gives the rest a look "id like to get down there, if nothing else is holding us up?" he sounds a tad impatient Cimmorro: "we might be encountering some company if we do so, not stopping you but you might want to prepare yourself" he points out the light Finn: he smirks at you "thats quite fine with me... personally, ive found our travels far too peaceful thus far... my blade lusts for blood" Psalm: "Right...let us know how that goes." Psalm waves goodbye @ him Finn: finn thinks you're boring and a coward for this Keva: keva doesn't bother to hide the face of disdain she makes as she tucks the bucket into her side Cimmorro: the thought of pushing finn down the hatch crosses cimm's mind but he simply just moves away to give him way, as if to say be my guest Han: han rolls her eyes so hard it hurts but says "its stupid to go alone, i will do backup" Finn: "finally! someone with a sense of adventure!" he completely ignores your actual feelings on this "even if it is the oaf, this should bode well..." Psalm: wolf was enough for one night he thinks

Despite their grumbling the rest of the party queues up to head in after Han with Keva heading up the back, Vinny glances around anxiously as everyone heads forward before he sighs and walks forward as well.

Finn hops down without any trouble, Han follows landing with a thump.

Han: briefly gets nauseous from the smell but then gets up to catch anyone else coming down Finn: finn steps forward enough so everyone has space to land

Han makes sure to close the hatch behind them as the party begin to shuffle forward with Finn taking the lead, the tunnel isn't too long, they quickly find themselves in the small room at the end of it.

> 🎵   Violence  / Roadwarden OST

Walking through they peer around at the clutter inside. Under their feet sits a big ratty carpet, the walls and ceiling similarly supported by the same wooden beams as from the tunnel.

Inside sits a small desk and a few barrels with a single lit candle sitting upon it, as well as a bed. But, before they can look around further they quickly notice a body seated at the desk, keeled over face first onto it. Squinting they can see the ground and chair beneath them, as well as the desktop pool with fresh blood. As he stares Finn finds himself grow a little parched.

He walks towards the body and leans the person back on their chair, interested in inspecting whatevers on the desk but his gaze lingers on the person for quite a while. He quickly checks them over, they appear to be a human man, unfortunately now deceased, his lungs and pulse now gone silent. His body still feels warm however, and the blood seeping from him makes him think it happened very recently.

A long gash runs the length of the front of his neck, Finn finds it hard to stop himself from drooling a little.

Finn: finn visibly weighing his reason and instinct against each other like i hope to god no ones paying attention to the most startling thing in the room here. i keep holding the man in my "embrace", just scanning the gash and his blood covered body over and over Cimmorro: cimm snapping his fingers at  finn rn "oi" Finn: finn is a little startled by this and he stares at you with blown pupils, but wide eyes. the drool drops down his chin onto the poor man "i..." he starts weakly and looks away from you "how do you... hes passed recently" finns grip on the man tightens "still warm. how would he die from a gash?" his eyes flick towards it again and stay there Cimmorro: "what do you mean 'how would he-'..... man just... you should step away i think" Plum: "i feel like that's a pretty easy way to die? the question is who the fuck is this anyways" Finn: finn briefly considers the taste of rat blood, or perhaps bird blood if hes lucky, and makes a pained face "um... you could not possibly relate or understand but... hes just passed and i didnt do it and..." once the words tumble out he seems visibly shaken and pulls his hands away, looking to cimm as if to ask if hes happy now Cimmorro: cimm doesn't look perturbed at finn's attempt to make him feel bad "we need information. i'm only trying to avoid more incidents especially one you'd regret afterwards" and he gets back to work Finn: finn stays silent for a minute, just watching cimm work, fighting w himself to start another awkward conversation "i had a feeling something like this might await us down here although not as... visceral" he looks around the desk "id like to stay here with you" Cimmorro: cimm briefly squints his eyes at you, debating with himself for a moment. ".....avoid getting more drool on the guy and i'll let you" Finn: "huh?" finn blinks and quickly rubs his chin with his sleeve "right um.. i wont" hes a little mortified by this but shakes his head as if to shrug it off

Han: grabbing notebook from psalm and writing to the frog "is this farmer?" Frog: the frog croaks once for no

Cimm examines the body while trying to ignore Finn's drool, the obvious cause of death would be the cut on his neck, its pretty big.

As he looks at the desk he see his arms laying by his face, covered in blood smears as if they thrashed about for a moment. Laying near his arms on the desktop sits a blood-drenched quill, as well as a dagger dangerously close to falling off the edge of the tabletop. A journal of some kind sits underneath his head, drenched in his blood, as well as all over the rest of the desktop.

He’s dressed not unlike a farmer, thick boots and overalls, but the clothing is made of finer materials, dark maroons and black fabric and a sturdy belt. As Cimmorro glances at his forearms he notes a few small scars litter the underside, like tiny paper cuts. They lead underneath thick black leather gloves that cover the rest of his hands.

As they go over the body Psalm and Keva investigate the rest of the room. As they glance around, near the other end of it they see a few bloodied sacks, dried blood litters that section of the ground and walls from what they can see. As they glance around the corner of the room you also see strange arcane runes drawn with blood on two opposite walls, they seem to match one another in design almost exactly. Its stark enough that its almost distracting. Nothing lies on the floor between them except for the sacks and dried blood.

Psalm: @ vinny "Do those runes mean anything to you?" Vinny: he thinks to himself briefly squinting at the blood "it... it looks like the black magic runes we saw in that basement, though not the exact same types per say" Plum: "was he trying to do rituals and fucked it up?" Keva: "what's different? and why are there two?" Plum: “maybe it's like same language different purpose" Vinny: he walks closer to give it a better look"yes, i'd say so. im not exactly versed in what they do" he leans closer "i think....these still have a little bit of power in them actually..." he starts to kind of poke it with a thoughtful expression Plum: “i dont like the sound of that...” Keva: oh my mgo di'm swatting his hands away Vinny: he kind of jumps with a ACK and then laughs nervously while still trying to eyeball it

Uncomfortable with the smell, Han backs up into the corridor and starts poking around there for anything missing or hidden. She spies tracks on the ground here from the same set of boots, over and over again. There also appear to be what look like drag marks on the ground, thinking on the sacks she puts two and two together that he was probably dragging things down here frequently. nothing else stands out much.

As she does Psalm crouches down to examine the underside of the bed back in the room, but the smell of the blood and the dirt almost overwhelms him down there so fast that he immediately stand back up a little nauseous.

Rokka also picks the knife up from the desk and shifts it around to inspect it, nothing strange about it stands out in particular, aside from the blood its covered in. Cimmorro moves to wiggle the gloves off the corpse, and quickly finds tattoos on the man’s hands, a little faded with time. The red colouring and shapes quickly remind him of Theyord’s in a weird way.

Cimmorro: NO MORE THEYORD !!!! Rokka: Rokka inspecting the knife like hmmm...this knife...is a knife...🧐

Plum goes to examine the journal alongside Finn who follows, but finds it being soaked in blood has made it impossible to read.

Han: to the frog "is this the murderer of farmer? have you seen this man at all?" Frog: the frog wiggles over to get a look from keva's bucket, then croaks twice for yes Han: "this IS dude who killed farmer. before, frog said there's symbol on their cloak" if anyone wants to check what it is Rokka: "Huh? Well then why is HE dead?? Arghh this is making my head hurt" he holds his head, mostly speaking about all the smell Keva: "he's not wearing a cloak though is he? is it somewhere in here?"

Vinny: "im curious why there's two of the exact saame..." Plum: "well do you know of any kind of magic that requires two, or if there's some kind of reason one would use two of a symbol or other magic conduit??" Vinny: he glances between them "to transfer something somewhere else, thats typically the case... they could be for teleportation. or something else along those lines" he squints at them again pondering Plum: "i feel like that's pretty in line with what we've seen of the cultists so far. generally speaking i feel like this guy is a cultist with all those wounds on his arm, and maybe he succeeded in whatever he was doing with all this blood everywhere?" Vinny: "id assume so, it all seems intentional" he glances down then back again "i think the dried blood here is still powering these, thats why they still work"

Keva: "i really don't think he did this to himself. it looks more like a struggle to me. the hatch was locked, the runes might be for teleportation and they were used recently."Keva: "it seems to me that he had an unexpected visitor" Plum: "i feel like the hatch being locked meant that he was down here doing this so he wouldn't be caught, because otherwise a break in, like a damaged lock, would make more sense if it was someone else right...?" Han: "more like someone was keeping them here. otherwise, why was it locked from outside." Keva: "that's what i'm saying, maybe someone used the teleportation runes to enter. or maybe someone came in with him, and then used the runes to get out. either way, no one left thru that door." Plum: "then why'd they leave this dagger here, unless it's just this guy's dagger and it's not all that important to bring" Keva: "that part i don't know. maybe just so they're not carrying a bloody weapon? there's nothing identifying about the dagger anyway, is there?" Plum: "well i guess we'll see when i'm done with it" Keva: keva mumbling aloud but mostly to herself "actually, if anyone entered thru the door they'd have to get back out the same way to lock it and cover it up again..."

Han: @ dagger being left "confident that no one else will find this place?" Plum: "i guess so, even though a frog found it for us" Han: "ive been thinking about that... could this frog be magical?" pokes frog Frog: the frog croaks lowly Han: writes in notebook "are you cursed to be frog?" Keva: say yes and only true love's kiss will free him) Frog: the frog croaks once for no

As they continue theorising about the runes, Plum casts detect magic in the middle of the room. They get pings from both the bloody ones on the wall, as well as from underneath the man. All of them come up with Enchantment as the school of magic.

Plum: "well they're enchantment runes... which means....?" [looks at vinny meaningfully] Vinny: he raises an eyebrow and strokes his chin "strange. teleportation is usually conjuration" Keva: "so these weren't for teleportation and someone did leave thru the door to lock it up and hide it" Plum: "wait so enchantment.... that's for like controlling people isn't it?" Vinny: he looks over to where finn and cimmorro are standing " wait, also on the chair" he looks even more curious before turning back "ah yes, typically things like that. alot of mind trickery" he makes a motion with his hand next to his ear Plum: plum is starting to get confused. "i think mind control is more like what they were doing than teleportation, so did someone...mind control this guy and then use him as like part of their ritual or........??????????????????? but then the enchantment symbols are the only sign of ritual activity around here" Psalm: "That's not far beyond the realm of possibility since they were doing similar magic back over in shorewater right?" Plum: "yeah, i just don't really get what this guy has to do with it or what they needed him for" "specifically" Psalm: "Maybe he's just an unlucky villager." Plum: "well i mean more like, what are all the scars on his arms for? like what did they need a human sacrifice for i guess, if he was hypnotized into killing himself or something" Psalm: "I would say just for the blood but it's probably not as simple as that."

Cimmorro stares back at the desk examining the blood, he gets the sense that the blood soaking through him onto the floor is alot more recent than that on the ladder, maybe only 20 or so minutes since it was shed.

Han: "this is kyzers territory, right? do we think thats his student? is he tying up loose ends?" Cimmorro: "this guy has been dead for not even more than half an hour" Finn: "i did tell you hes still warm..." finn mumbles Cimmorro: cimm gives you a tired look "time is crucial. roughly 20 minutes is incredibly concerning. also you'd be pleased to know he has the same tattoos as theyord" Finn: "the exact same?" finn tilts his head Cimmorro: "yeah. he just has much less of it" Finn: "looks like theyord was able to reach further than shorewater then..." its taking finn everything not to smile, so he tortures himself by inhaling the iron scent and staring at the mans gash again Cimmorro: cimm just watching your weird gestures like this

Finn: "do you have any love for violence cimmorro?" he speaks a little more quiet, so hopefully only the two of you would hear Cimmorro: ???????? he looks at you for so uncomfortably long with either vague or nothing in his expression before he finally goes "do you need someone to help you out of the room right now?" his eyes flick briefly to han as he says this HJKGDJSKHG Finn: finn gives you a disappointed look, as if he was looking forward to talking to you about this "nevermind then... no, im quite alright" he seems a little apathetic now Cimmorro: cimm shakes his head and just mumbles "what the fuck" to himself

Plum: "wait there's runes underneath the guy" <- just realized "like on the chair" Psalm: Psalm's gonna go over to the guy and compare the runes on the chair and wall i guess to see if they're similar?

Psalm tries to subtly slide up and check out the chair while Cimmorro and Finn are talking but he doesn’t spy any runes on it obviously, he assumes its directly under him on the seat.

He awkwardly begins to try and shift the man a little but as he starts to struggle Plum sidles up to help him. They settle the body on the ground gracefully enough and get a look at the seat of the chair still ignoring the other two, they find the exact same rune on the walls here on the chair.

As they eyeball it, Han rifles through the bloodstained sacks near the other runes. She finds old ratty clothing, also stained with blood. Things like simple shirts and coveralls, they all scream farmer to her in various shades.

Keva: @ vinny "you wouldn't happen to be able to do anything about that book covered in blood would you? might be useful to us." Vinny: he looks away from his conversation with plum as you call his attention  "hm? oh yes yes! let me have a look" he makes a face as he realises its soaked in blood, he picks it up and says something before snapping his hand, with a puff of smoke the blood dissapears, the book left pristine Keva: keva gestures for cimm and vinny to take a look at the book Cimmorro: cimm is like 100% distracted with finn's... everything so keva trying to get his attention snaps him outta his stupor there "oh you guys cleaned it yay!" reading

Cimmorro heads over to Vinny to examine the journal together. It seems like a small section of someone's notes, though there's still quite a bit of writing on it. It jumps all over the place like observing's to be rewritten and collected more thoughtfully later. They note the parts that seem relevant:

‘outing bore more fruit than before. it seems he’s appeased by any old blood. coating beforehand seems to increase effectiveness. bet the horned idiot never figured that one out. townspeople are noticing however. don't want the forest snooping. one more test should do then i am moving on from this place. look into host relocation. should work now, redid the incantation, plenty of blood. pick a witch, they’ll have useful abilities no doubt. need to steel myself for the pain again. wind’s blowing east these days, I should charter a boat after and reconnect my research. nadelle disliked theyord as far as i recall, would still get on well.’

Underneath the page of notes sits a seal etched into the paper written in ink. It quickly reminds them of the same infernal black magic. Theyord and company used, though they don't recognise this one. No one recognises the name Nadelle however.

Peeking out the trapdoor, Han notes that the only shack they can see from here is Ronaldo’s, it seems the field here would belong to him.

Cimmorro: cimm pretty much reads this out loud so the others can hear while they're working Psalm: "What a coincidence that we're also going east." Keva: "'coating'... in blood?" keva thinks back to the massive splatter of blood in ronaldo's hut "are they... throwing blood on these farmers and then sacrificing them to whatever thing theyord was trying to summon?" Plum: "or they could mean coating in scars" Keva: "but it says that theyord never figured that out... didn't theyord also have scars?" Cimmorro: "yea same paper cut scars as this guy" Psalm: "The scars are probably irrelevant though, since that size wouldn't provide a large enough amount of blood in the moment to coat something. Well irrelevant to the ritual for now, we'll say." Plum: "oh i was wondering if it was something like being covered in a lot more scars is useful but maybe they're just incisions from drawing blood yeah" Psalm: "Yeah could be for other rituals or magics that aren't necessarily the ritual being performed here... The blood splatter is too large for that to be the cause  " Keva: "are we sure there was a ritual performed here, or was there just a murder? maybe before a ritual could happen?" Psalm: "I mean the runes would imply there was a ritual performed here right?" Plum: "well there are two giant symbols on the wall" Keva: "do runes automatically work once you draw them?" Plum: "they're still working even as we stand in here" Psalm: "The journal seemingly confirms that too." Keva: "hm..."

Plum: "remember vinny said all this old blood in here is still powering them up just a bit" Keva: "i know, i'm just not convinced that this guy dying on this desk is connected to performing that ritual. he was planning on leaving, clearly, if this is his journal" Psalm: “i disagree” Plum: "i figure that's what all the blood in here is for in general. 'it seems he's appeased by any old blood'- maybe they're talking about......mephisto? (?????) if this was just "any old" farmer. i just don't get why the particular purpose of this ritual might be mind control.“ Psalm: "I have a theory actually. Since I'm kind of curious about the 'need to steel myself for the pain again' part, it might be likely that whoever is performing the ritual controls the bodies of the- " he gestures at the dead guy " 'vessels' here. But maybe the pain transfers to them too? So whoever did this doesn't necessarily die or anything performing the ritual. They avoid most of the dirty work as well as have an easier means of staying undetected." Keva: "this is the person who killed our farmer in question, not the actual farmer so i don't think he's referring to his own blood as far as 'any old blood'. it probably needs blood from him, but not this much." Psalm: "This is assuming the person here is a cultist and not just some random villager I guess." Keva: "his clothes are too nice for a regular villager" Plum: "you don't think this guy could be mind controlled into doing this?" Psalm: "I feel like they were mind controlled into doing it even if they're not just a random villager. Or maybe they're a cult member, I doubt sacrifice is a big deal to them." Keva: "i don't know about that part, but i'm pretty sure someone was here with him since that door was closed, locked, and covered in dirt. Psalm: "Could have been the person doing the ritual?" Plum: "yeah, which makes me think that the person who owns the journal isn't necessarily this dead person here. for all we know they might even come back here and pick the journal up later, i don't see why not" Psalm: "Well if we stay and find out we risk losing our lead if we kill them, but if we leave and they come back to find it gone they might abandon their plan to travel east now that the information is compromised. Or at least that's what I'd do if I was them."

Han: "if we fuck with these symbols, could we stop whatever spell its doing right now?" Vinny: vinny nods his head "its certainly very easy to do, the ones on the wall are just blood" Han: han picks out a shirt and starts scrubbing

As the others chat on, Han begins scrubbing away at the bloody runes on the wall, Vinny watches curiously as she does. Once she rubs out some of the blood on one she feels the small energy pulsing from it immediately vanish.

Glancing around the two detect no differences, though as they head over to the other rune on the wall they can tell the energy on this one has also dissipated.

Han: han shrugs at vinny "i was hoping more fanfare" Vinny: he smiles "well they weren't too greatly powered in the first place.." he glances between them "though that confirms those two were definitely connected at least"

Curious, Han then walks over to the one carved in the chair, this one still seems to be humming away, and more strongly.

Han: "so, there is no way to figure out who is on other end of "host relocation", right? might as well scrub this out too, see if it interrupts it" Vinny: he nods "not from the rune itself in any case"

Han starts messing up the carving soaked in blood, after a few scrapes she hears a snapping sound in the air and a spark in front of her eyes, she looks back down and feel the energy has dissipated from this rune as well. Nothing else appears strange however, the body certainly hasn't changed either.

In the meanwhile Cimmorro continues eyeing the journal for a sense of the author, though he doesnt find a name written anywhere.

Cimmorro: "damn learn some personalization man" <-- he is grumbling this to no one in particular

He doesn't feel any magic emanating off of it, or the seal him and Vinny saw earlier. He reckons its probably more akin to a personal sigil than a real magic rune. Keva also idly checks around the place again curious, she finds nothing akin to a key for a padlock down here either.

Finn: re the journal "should we take it with us?" Plum: "i'm surprised you're even asking" Finn: finn merely blinks at you and tilts his head questioningly Psalm: "There's no need to take the diary if we know what's in it though. So it's not totally invalid a question..." Plum: "you don't think having it for reference would be useful? you have that strong of a memory?" Finn: "im just wondering if its worse for them to find it missing or tempered with.... or should we simply drench it in blood again, then?" Psalm: "Well yes, but I was thinking more along the lines of not leaving an tracks. Although Finn is right, we've obviously tampered with it." Plum: "yeah i agree, but han did just smudge up the wall"

Keva: "i'm pretty certain this is our farmer killer, killing them for whatever tests he's doing, and these things are his. now who killed him or why, i don't know... do you think this 'host' thing is someone... transferring bodies?" Psalm: "Yeah and their next target is a witch probably." Plum: "i'm not saying he isn't the guy who killed the farmer, we know that much. i just think some kind of ritual was obviously performed in here" Keva: "maybe this person brought someone else in here, did a ritual to enter their body, and then killed this person since the body isn't needed anymore...?" Han: "remember how theyord entered body of that one guy we caught?" Plum: "sure, but as far as we know there's no body entering ritual traces around here. didn't those doppelgangers have rings?" Psalm: "Maybe the ritual involves suicide and the host performed it remotely using their enchantment...whatever." Keva: "maybe, but there was someone else here. there had to have been" Psalm: "Oh well just because the ritual was performed remotely doesn't mean they couldn't have come here afterwards. This is probably just their base. Especially if there's a journal with everything we need to know here haha" Keva: "they must have still been close by then bc he only died less than half an hour ago" Psalm: "Maybe they're headed to our ship?"

Plum: "i'm just trying to figure out: if this guy's the farmer killer and the journal's owner, we can assume he was just using that farmer as part of his tests. i think what we're trying to figure out is what these ritual symbols on the wall are for, and why this guy right now is dead." Psalm: "We could always just report this to Vorde and head back." [drinkingwine.gif]

Cimmorro: after skimming the journal cimm says "anyways i'm taking the journal with. i'd like to add the seal to the previous etchings i got"

Finn: "regardless of whether we can figure this out right now or not... what should our next move be?" Psalm: "I think we should leave personally. Not sure what else we could possibly learn here and someone might return since this place was only recently deserted. If we leave maybe we can catch up to them or warn some of the witches?" Cimmorro: [glancing at body] "we should bury him.... it's unbecoming to just leave him here. or rather, we could at least inform the townsfolk, these are their fields after all." Plum: "i was thinking the same" Vinny: vinny looks down at the man and makes a somber face "...do we decide whos carrying him?" Cimmorro: "i certainly can't, despite how i want to rid you all of such taxing labor, emotionally and physically. and i assume you are reluctant to" Vinny: making this face [cryingpleadingemoji]

Plum: "i don't mind helping someone lift it, but i don't think it'd make much sense for me to" Han: han sighs "i can, if u reeeeally want" Cimmorro: "you don't seem very eager though..." he says this in a tone where it's like he's feeling a little bad asking for assistance Han: "who would be? you can owe me then, if that makes you feel better about asking" Cimmorro: cimm thinks on this for a bit then opens his mouth to say something but holds back and just says "alright" Finn: "we could also just leave this to the townspeople, really" Plum: "i don't think that's a good idea... i feel like if we let this kind of dramatic scenario leak to the "commonfolk" then we're gonna be met with a bunch of rumours that will make it harder for us to learn real things from people later on. also i don't wanna scare people hahaw" Psalm: "We might also get sidelined by local authorities and that might make it harder to investigate." Rokka: "We just got ourselves un-framed back at the big city...i dont want to get fingers pointed at us again :("

Han hefts the man’s body up easy enough, no trouble. The group all begin filtering out of the hidey hole in the dirt back topside. Though as they go she gives one more good glance around for anything out of the ordinary, along with Cimmorro’s assistance.

The two only spot one set of prints down here besides the party’s own, assuredly the boots of the man in her arms. As they reach topside and start snooping around, they see his same prints amongst their own again.

> 🎵   The Forgotten Village  / Folklore OST

Han wanders a few feet off around the hatch, away from all her digging, to keep looking around. With Cimmorro’s help they notice faint footprints, the bare feet of an adult in fact. They look large, though not of the size of her own. She'd guess the person was tall or heavy by the size of the indents.

Han: "could we check on orc and tiefling witch? maybe tell them what we found? they probably arent only people who fit this print but i have weird feeling about this" Plum: "i was thinking that too, i kinda wanted to know if they knew anything more about the people who were dying" Cimmorro: "we were already on the way to kyzer anyhow" Plum: "feel like kyzer will be more useful anyways"

Han lays the body down carefully before she begins digging the grave with reserved gusto, pulling a shovel out of her pack, as the group chatter about what to do next.

Cimmorro: cimm is doing a jasidan burial prayer or whatever and some line is like "this nameless guy took a big L but he's also pretty cringe for killing somebody and partaking in black magic so let he be judged by the red sorceress in her ruby court. peace xoxo" Finn: finn staring daggers at ur back rn Cimmorro: WHATS WRONG WITH U) Psalm: ????? WHAT ABOUT THAT)

As Cimmorro begins his prayers, after a minute or so he notices the plants nearby swaying slowly in the breeze strangely close. Finding it odd he glances closer and sees roots on the ground slowly.... moving, closer to the body as it lies on the dirt. Not too fast but enough that he can notice it.

Cimmorro: i point to it like OY, ARE U GUYS SEEING THIS shit Finn: "is that supposed to happen?" Cimmorro: "NO?!!!" Psalm: he just looks at it like o7 Rokka: "Should we be worried...?" Han: O_o Cimmorro: "YES?? GET HIM OUTTA THERE MAYBE" Han: "maybe...let plants take it........?" Cimmorro: "they're not supposed to?!?" Finn: "well im sure cimmorros goddess knows what shes doing. i think we should just leave her to it. lets go see kyzer" Rokka: "UHH... UHH..????!?" Cimmorro: "THAT'S NOT HER!!!?" cimm thinking about pushing finn into the hole again Finn: "you sure?" Cimmorro: "are you actually fucking trying me right now" Finn: "peace, cimmorro" he holds his hands up lazily and watches the others snatch the body

Psalm: Psalm against his better judgement tries to grab the body(?) Han: han joins in grabbing the body like weeeeh Rokka: Rokka grabs also out of panic lol

The three pick the body up easily enough together, the roots continue moving slowly closer but as they get underneath his body in the air they stop, writhing in place slowly.

Psalm: "Hmm.. don't like that very much." Rokka: "I'm scared" he whispers to psalm and han Han: "me tooo.. just let nature have it... i dont want to piss off grass or whatever...." 😩😩😩😩 Rokka: "What if it's the cult ppl?" Han: "..................." han has no response to that shes just frowning deeply Rokka: His eyes brows  furrow even more like no don't agree with me ur supposed to tell me it's ok Han: IM SORRY BRO Plum: LMAO

Psalm eyes the roots trying to guess if there any sort of higher power at play here but feels nothing of the sort. He might guess the plantlife relates to Ehlonna but they haven't seen any worship of her around anywhere. He guesses if this is magic its not related to any higher power at the very least.

Cimmorro observes them alongside him, the longer he stares the more they seem to amass themselves as if patiently waiting. Strangely the ends of small vines begin to slowly start popping themselves out of the dirt as well.

Psalm: "Of all the shit I've seen tonight I think that was the oddest yeah. What usually happens when you pray like that?" Cimmorro: "nothing. it's supposed to be peaceful. there’s vines now...” Han: "ummm... what if earth around here is enchanted somehow?" Psalm: "Try lying down and see if that happens to you then." Han: "i dont want to" 😂 Finn: "... and if i try hacking away at the vines with my sword? or am i gonna piss some deity off?" he rolls his eyes Psalm: "No deity involved here I think so you can avoid that at least." Plum: "i thought it was some kind of security measure associated with the corpse" Finn: finn whips his head around to you like OOO:whoaaa plum is so smart... Plum: [feeling finn staring at me] like when sparkles bounce off of an anime character

Psalm wordlessly lays himself down on the floor and patiently waits... the plants seem to ignore him, but the sensation of laying down is nice enough.

Han: "cimmmmmMM! what now?!" Cimmorro: "i.. i don't know. um. the entire island seem to be enchanted one way or another so this shouldn't come as a surprise but..." he nervously looks around the field and then just being in shock+ concern watching psalm lie down there kJGFAKG Psalm: He sits up, "What is it about the body that makes it only react to it though..." 🤔 Rokka: "Guys I'm REALLY scared! DO WE DROP THE BODY OR WHAT!?" Psalm: "Don't drop the body." Rokka: pleadingcrying "ok"

Growing impatient, Finn strikes at the vines with his rapier, it poses no real challenge. As he slices through a few of them a liquid comes spurting out of it. he quickly recognises it as blood. As soon as he cuts them away however a few begin growing back in its place.

Finn: “augh! i could stand here hacking away at them all night like a peasant! its no use" he scoffs and sheathes his blade Psalm: "If they want to get rid of it that means that it has some worth." Finn: “...do you think the bloods enchanted?" Cimmorro: cimm looks straight up aggravated at you abt what happened earlier but he still responds "surely enough, because plants shouldn't be moving like that on their own" Finn: "so i shouldn't be trying it, i assume?" Vinny: vinny gives you a strange look at that Finn: he looks at you like this 🤨 mind your own business Keva: "it's that witch's blood, or someone in his coven. suppose it's up to you if you want to try it." Psalm: "I think you should try it if you're curious (lol) Don't really see the harm in it personally." Cimmorro: "...............i don't want to have to make a report to your uncle about how you died to sucking on some blood roots" Finn: "it wont be a lot... just a drop... that should be fine, right?" Cimmorro: "you're asking ME for permission?" Plum: "i don't really think it'll do anything personally" Finn: "not permission.." he clicks his tongue "i would merely...regret it if i became a burden unexpectedly" Cimmorro: "that sounds like you're asking for permission anyway." Finn: he glares at you, total contradiction to his words "youre here for a reason, yes? why shouldnt i consult with you if we're investigating together?" Cimmorro: "that's interesting since you didn't have any faith in me not too long ago"

As they babble amongst each other, Keva quickly mentions that she's going to return the frog to the pond while they're still nearby, and that she'll be right back, starting off on her trek.

Han: "aaaaah wait we should thank it at least, ALSO IT BAD PRACTICE TO SPLIT.." she tries to pass the body off to rokka Q_Q Plum: “i dont think splitting up at all is a good idea" Rokka: "WH-H OH!" He reluctantly takes the body crying Han: "im sorryyyyyy ill be right back" T_T Psalm: "Finn just drink the blood if you're so curious so we can all go return the frog and be on our way." Han: im writing "THANKS FOR HELP" in the book n running after 

Finn finally crouches down giving the blood a lick, strangely enough it tastes as if he were drinking from a living being, there's some sort of essence here. A person even. He shakes his head to dispel the sensation, but he ascertains that it tastes pretty good.

In the meanwhile Han and Keva hobble over quick with the frog within view of the others next to Ronaldo’s shack. As Keva plops the bucket down he hops out easily enough, croaking happily as the others in the pond pay it notice and croak back. As Han shows it the writing the frog gives her a lazy look and wiggles slightly, letting out a long low croak.

Keva: keva says softly, "bye then, take care" to the frogs before dumping out the bucket and leaving it at the edge of the pond Han: "yaaaaay" TwT han skips back :) one skip waits for keva another skip waits for keva Keva: keva kinda laughs and says "just go, i'll catch up just fine" Han: "i said, splitting up bad" Keva: "i won't be that far behind" Han: han shakes her head n smiles, waiting patiently each time

Finn: "its like... a persons" is all he decides to share, hes not sure how he feels about it Psalm: “That's kind of gross. But at least it's harmless." Rokka: "Plesse don't tell me that.."

Finn moves to cut off a section of the vine, watching blood seep from either end, turning it around and sucking from it like a straw for a bit of sustenance. He finds the taste appealing. Vinny makes a brief horrified face but looks away unsure like he's doubting if this is actually normal. Finn turns back to face the others when hes done, his teeth and chin stained red.

Rokka: "Are we taking the body with us now..." 😭😭 Finn: "for now, yes.... i suppose" Rokka: 🙁 Cimmorro: "we could keep him in his underground base thing, he seemed undisturbed there?" Rokka: "What if the vines go sneaking in?" Cimmorro: "nevermind i forgot the walls are still dirt" Plum: "i think we should follow these vines. i feel like they're just there to prevent the body being moved since they haven't tried to grab him now that his corpse isn't moving, unless you think someone's trying to retrieve his body using them right now?" Rokka: "I'm worried someone is trying to take it, yes." Plum: "oh okay i see, i was thinking that the vines were just waiting for the body to be moved but it's more like someone is trying to clean up this very moment.i don't like that" Rokka: “agreed!” Finn: "moving it back underground is probably the simplest solution. you guys said we wouldn't want the locals to find out, and the perpetrator will know one way or another regardless.." Psalm: "We could always have Cimmorro question him later though." Finn: "... how do you want to bring the body aboard the airship, psalm?" Psalm: "I mean later as in before we board the airship. We have almost a whole day before it leaves." Finn: "cant you do this right now?" Cimmorro: "unfortunately, i can't" Plum: "i think then that we should make a move with this body before whoever is trying to retrieve it realizes something is up"

Han and Keva arrive back from their brief trek to rejoin the conversation. Rokka briefly tries moving around with the body to see if the vines follow him, they do. Though the move slower than he walks.

Rokka: More crying whimper noises from Mr rokka! Han: "u guys are still here huh" :_) Finn: "what if we're seen with it? well, actually, more like, do you want to go talk to kyzer like this?" he wipes his chin w the inside of his cape and tilts his head Plum: "what difference does it make? we're probably gonna have to go kill him anyways" plum is genuinely asking and not being sarcastic Finn: finn snorts at this and looks at the rest of the party to see if they agree on walking around w it now Han: "WHATS THE PLAN" Cimmorro: "i don't really see any other option, we should move before he realizes his roots aren't retrieving anything still" Rokka: "ITS FOLLOWING ME" Han: han is like aiiii n goes to help rokka again Rokka: He thank her while sniffling Cimmorro: "we could have finn eat it if it gets too close i suppose -_-" Finn: finn briefly glances at you but doesnt say anything Plum: "i think we should either let the vines take the body and follow that, or just follow the roots?" Psalm: "I more or less agree with Plum although I'd love to avoid killing anyone if at all possible. Since Cimmorro can't converse with the dead at the moment." Finn: "how very noble of you.." he sounds somewhat amused Psalm: "It's harder to question them if they're dead." Finn: "it should be fairly easy if we have the upper hand. we can always end his life after that... not to mention that we vastly outnumber him" Han: "shall we just carry body......? i can just wrap it up???" Cimmorro: "yeah i think we could" Psalm: "I think we should follow the roots though, rather than chance losing the body." Finn: "i agree with that. lets get a move on." Psalm: "I'm just hoping they're not as tight-lipped as the last cultists we met." 🤔

Han walks a good few strides away from the roots in the ground before laying the body down and quickly fashioning a papoose from an old bedroll, tying the body to her back securely. She does her best to tie it so that it doesn't immediately appear to look like a dead body.

Han: “this is gross. lets go”

The party make their way back over to Kyzer’s small shack walking quickly, trekking through the muck as the roots slowly follow after them. They reach the precipice of the small path through the trees that lead through the dark to his clearing, they chance a glance back and note that they've outwalked the roots for the moment, though they’ve no doubt they're still making their way over.

> 🎵   Peat Fields  / Roadwarden OST

They enter the small clearing again, spotting the lush greenery in front of them. There is no Kyzer in sight, just the strange tilled plants and his shack up the cobbled steps.

Rokka, Han and Psalm perk up their ears and peer around keenly in the dark. They quickly pick up sounds coming from inside the shack, the sounds of items being moved and shoved around, clinking glasses and wood being slid. Keva and Finn glance at the plants in front of them and note they seem slightly different than when you came here last. But they cant place why, one of them seems to flow in the wind in their direction, but it doesnt move any further.

Han: whispering "i think we should... sneak to cabin window and prepare for fight" Psalm: "We'll he's definitely home." Psalm: "I think maybe Han should stay outside since she has the body." Finn: "what happened to questioning him?" Han: "i said PREPARE. we can question him first but getting closer look first" Rokka: "This trip sucks..." Finn: "surely he'll feel like chatting if we spy on him" Psalm: "Yeah I don't think that's the best idea here Han..." Han: "we need to know whats going on inside. i just hear furniture getting moved" raises an eyebrow at him Psalm: "A few of us should go inside I think to question him, and when that inevitably goes to shit because these cultists don't like to say anything the rest can follow." Han: "this sounds fair, i will go to window"

As they talk Keva eyes the plant pointing towards them and makes to grab it, but before she can rip it out something about its beauty distracts her. She stares at the plant as it sits in her hand, before slowly stroking the stem. She feels her body grow sluggish the longer she stares at it, it truly is beautiful.

She notices a small pattern begin to emerge in the petals of a flower on it, it slowly forms into the shape of an eye looking back at her. She stares at it a little confused, but still enraptured by its look.

Finn: "he seems to be fond of me, i volunteer to accompany you" Psalm: "I think it's because he can tell you don't like him..." Rokka: "Who goes and who stays?" Psalm: "Well Finn and I for sure since we have suggestion type magic..." Finn: "i think psalm should go in any case, he handled the situation quite competently last time" Psalm: o7 "Thanks(?)" Finn: "maybe a third person? it is a shack.. no need to bring too many people" Psalm: he turns like "Alright anyone else want to come?" Finn: "if not, the two of us shall suffice" Psalm: "Agreed, although I think Cimmorro should stay outside too." 

As Han tries to huddle the group to relay the plan she notices Keva staring at the plants.

Han: "we can hear noises inside, i think some of us should hang around window- keva? you alright?" waves hand to her.. Keva: keva tilts her head slowly to one side in that classic enraptured state, in a sort of slower, dazed way she says, "yeah..... why wouldn't i be?" and then after a pause "the flowers here are lovely" not taking her eyes off the plant Rokka: "The thing that's trying to take the body? Are u sure?" Cimmorro: cimm grimacing "i think you should put that down" Keva: "but why...?" Cimmorro: "it's.... nicer to let it be--" Han: i slap her Cimmorro: HELP) Rokka: hes like WHOAH 

As the group deal with Keva Plum goes to eyeball the plants she so taken by. After a few seconds they recognise them as something called 'maiden's kiss' a strain of flower that enrapture its viewers into observing them for long stretches of time. They typically force a person to slow down by captivating their senses, making them walk and act very sluggishly. This one also has some strange patterning on it however, they're not to familiar with that.

Han: and then i immediately back away like 3 steps going "sorry sorry sorry please dont kill me" Plum: "were these always out here???? stop looking at that" moves to slap keva's hand away but han is already slapping her

As Plum moves to slap keva's hand their gaze is also quickly stolen. They really are pretty... they get why people get lost loking at them, their body becomes sluggish and their eyes droop a little as they watch them, questions pettering out. In contrast the slap makes Keva blink as she wakes up a little.

Finn: "then let us be off while everyone.... takes care of keva? " he sounds very unsure Psalm: "Wait hold on..." just watching this happen like yall. Finn: he nods Han: han peeking from behind her boxing stance "sorryyyyy.. did it work?" Keva: she says "OWW!" after being slapped efjefkjgr touching her cheek she looks at han like wtf...???? Han: "back with us?" still holding her hands up Keva: "...yeah, i, guess?" keva's rubbing her cheek and lightly slapping her other one to wake herself up more, muttering "what the fuck" to herself... Han: han is slightly worried that keva isnt attacking her but atleast she seems back to herself

As the two women talk Cimmorro tries to block Plum’s line of sight with a journal but Plum just starts crouching and pushing it out of the way annoyed by the inconvenience.

Cimmorro: "please i don't wanna slap you cryingpleadingemoji" Keva: seeing plum looking at the same flower she's going to pinch them on the back of hte arm or smth

Despite the pinching Plum remains transfixed, annoyed that now Keva is trying to stop them from looking at the flowers.

Psalm: "Ok I think they have it covered out here probably, lets just go." Finn: "lets be sure to not stare at his plants too hard, i suppose?" he mumbles to psalm Psalm: "They're kind of creepy, won't be that hard." Finn: he nods "psalm and i will be heading in to talk to our good friend kyzer... stay alert" Han: "let us get in position at same time at least"

Before they can move on however, right after Finn announces that they’ll begin walking towards the shack, they hear at the other end of the clearing the door swing open. The man himself strolls out with a cheery grin on his face.

Kyzer: spotting you all he gives you a cheery wave before shouting "i'd stay there if i were you!" Han: han just goes fuuuuuuuuuuck under her breathe, bow out Psalm: just like "Yeah, should've seen that coming to be honest." Finn: finn makes the face they make in soul eater when excalibur is on screen Rokka: Rokka freeze like stone Cimmorro: WAKE UP PLUM WE'RE FUCKING UNDER ATTACK

Psalm: "Can't we talk this out? 🫣 " Finn: finn gives a little wave back "how come? not feeling hospitable?"

Cimmorro: im gonna start shaking plum fr

Kyzer: he laughs a little "mmmhmm my plants have gotten a little strange lately, just giving you some fair warning. i wouldn't recommend trudging through them." he walks closer to the steps and spins his staff a little in his good hand before setting it down. after a pause he looks at you han "should i question why a corpse is being brought to my doorstep?" Han: "youre fucking nosy arent ya!!" Finn: "how nice of you to come out to talk to us then-" he looks at han flabbergasted Keva: she faces kyzer and steps in front of cimm and plum just in case Kyzer: he makes a put upon face and taps his chest then laughs like he cant keep a straight face "says the person walking into a secret hideaway?" Finn: "howd you know we were there.." finn mumbles out loud until he. looks at kyzer and remembers. right. this guy was molding himself w plants.

Han gives Kyzer a look over, attempting to see if he remembers them or not. She notices he's talking a little different, his drawl is almost nonexistent now. Though is hard to tell if he doesn’t know them yet. Behind her Cimmorro finally shakes Plum awake again, they feel their energy return. Though Cimmorro continue shaking them unaware.

Han: to the group "i dont think thats same kyzer we met" Keva: “as we thought then” Rokka: “I don’t like that” Finn: "no i think that slimey attitude perfectly checks out" he clicks his tongue Han: "his accent is gone, idiot" Finn: “oh.” Psalm: @ finn and han "What difference does it even make at this point honestly." sighs Finn: "well... its personal, for me 🤨 " Psalm: "Why do I get the feeling you'd almost rather it be the one we met first..." Finn: "because youd be right" Psalm: psalm just snorts bc finn is actually insane Han: whispering "why are you like this, they were perfectly nice, and other choice is more blood cult people" Finn: "he touched me and had that awful attitude. id prefer to kill that one" he drops it as if thats completely normal to say “fighting the cultists could be thrilling but with the same appearance [as kyzer] its a little lackluster" Keva: "get over yourself, we're here on your uncle's fucking business" keva says in a rushed whisper Finn: "i was behaving back then as it happened! mind your business" he snaps back Keva: "fine, if you want to let your ego get in the way of getting the job done" Finn: "im not even doing anything right now! why are you chastising me when han was more hostile than i?" Keva: "just shut up and focus!" Finn: "typical" he sneers and rolls his eyes

Plum: "uhhh?" Cimmorro: cimm still shaking plum until he wincees and pulls his hand back about to do something drastic like slap them until the last second they speak up LKFASDF;l "oh.. oooh you're back to us!!" and he's like this mostly relieved he doesnt have to slap you

Plum: looking at cimm weirdly but blushing slighty, confused. "anyways what was i saying? be careful of the plants around here 👆 "

> 🎵   Redline by S U R V I V E  / Road 96 OST

Han: "what, you dont recognize us? im pretty sure you can see in this dark" Kyzer(?): he swings his staff idly behind his head resting on his shoulders with a smile "i'm just not fond of visitors this late" Han: "well we were pretty late last we visited" trying to bait him into any kind of reaction for insight check Kyzer(?): he hmms to himself "you're lucky i didn't get grumpy at you then, this is me giving you a warning now" his eyes drift back to the papoose "find him in a tree?" Rokka: "YEAH WE JUST WANT TO TALK!" Rokka steps up just enough to show himself with his hands raised Kyzer(?): as you step forward he pauses and blinks before tapping his foot "is that so?" Psalm: "We had a somewhat fruitful investigation, you know, about what we brought up before." Han: han is like oh thank god psalms talking inside

Han gets the feeling he’s fucking with them, but he was also kind of doing that the last time they spoke as well. He seems more impatient in any case, like hes trying to frustrate them.

Kyzer(?): he glances towards you "and the results are?" Psalm: "Not an expert by any means, but he's definitely dead 😃 " Kyzer(?): he smiles "sounds unfortunate, why's he on her back?" Psalm: "She's the strongest." Rokka: "YES! SO NO MORE PLANT WARNINGS YEAH?" he looks down wondering if he should try to take another step but deciding against it Psalm: "Would you rather we put him down?" Kyzer(?): he shrugs "as long as you dont leave him here i dont have a preference really" he keeps staring at it before turning to rokka "plant warning?" Rokka: He points at the plants and vines Kyzer(?): he looks over "ahhh...those. i dont have much control at the moment, they're acting a little pouty" he shrugs and smirks "' 's why i suggest staying back there"

Psalm eyes him, getting a sense he really doesn’t care what they do with the man. More perplexed why it’s even here.

Psalm: "Nah we kind of need him, since we're going to take him back with us to question the body. However if we put him down for too long I noticed something strange happens involving your plants. Maybe you could enlighten me?" Kyzer(?): he turns and eyes you strangely "involving my plants?" Psalm: "Whenever we put him down your vines start to attack him, for lack of a better word." Kyzer(?): he slips his staff back to the floor thinking to himself "attack him?" he glances at the ground then briefly at his own body before eyeing you again "you said attack?" Psalm: "Yes? I'm sorry is something wrong?" Kyzer(?): he's appears curious about this, he doesn't understand it. he's doing some sort of mental math in his head about something and you feel as if he doesn't like it. he stares at you again before shaking his head "'its strange is all, they shouldn't have much interest in random bodies" he smiles again "like i said, feeling pouty tonight" Psalm: "I'm not sure pouty is how I would describe it." Han: han curses in all languages she knows internally that we dont have any kind of signal and no one would understand hers Kyzer(?): he laughs "no? they've all got their own personalities. moody just like people really" Psalm: "So them following a dead body around is being moody." Kyzer(?): he waves his hand around idly with the staff "im just implying i dont have full control over them right now, so they may be acting out" he chuckles again "for what reason, i cant say"

Cimmorro: "no interest in random ones, you say. but would that mean they may have something they're specifically looking for?" Psalm: "Like the blood maybe?" Kyzer(?): he stares again "could be. corpses should have them in spades id think" Cimmorro: "if they want blood, i'd assume they'd prefer something alive and pumping... not something that already bled out?" Kyzer(?): he smiles "did they seem that aggresive to you?" Cimmorro: "not at all no.." why are u smiling at me im scared Kyzer(?): "how could they kill something alive then?" Cimmorro: "fair enough... much like your average plant looking for water in the soil... although, that doesn't really help clarify what you said about how they shouldn't have interest in random bodies and being moody--- like, if they're source of food then, they'd want it... it is a regular thing, no?" Kyzer(?): he shrugs "a sound theory" Cimmorro: 🤨

Psalm: ok as quietly as possible so kyzer can't hear me psalm's just gonna be like "Can you charm this guy please." Finn: "hes too far away... i cant do it from here" Psalm: "Shit, neither can I."

Cimmorro: "..." cimm sighs "let me ask one more thing, i'm so curious, what causes them to be, quote unquote, moody?" Keva: as cimm says that i'm going to try to discreetly shift in kyzer's direction a little more, trying to test the idea that his plants aren't under his control Kyzer(?): he thinks to himself with a hmm "changes to their environment, things in the air" he glances over at the body again then grins back at you "maybe theyre feeling a little upset about something, you go bullying them?" Cimmorro: "well if i have, it certainly wasn't intentional. i don't recall offending any plantlife on my way here" Kyzer(?): "yet theyre following you around....i'd do the math there buddy" Cimmorro: "maybe they just like me 😳 it's not often you see someone this good looking around these parts" Kyzer(?): he snorts and shakes his head a little "if you think so Plum: "speaking of plant life, what's with the pattern you have going on with these?" Kyzer(?): he looks at you then down at the plot with a smile "they keep an eye out for me" Plum: "literally i guess," plum mutters. then they say "how'd you get them to be like that?" Kyzer(?): he wiggles the finger on his good hand "experimentation" Plum: "c'mon don't be like that, i'm genuinely curious. i've been really wanting to know if those vines only had that one purpose you told us about earlier." Kyzer(?): he huffs a little under his breath before tapping his foot "ask me in the morning then, when i've had my beauty sleep"

Psalm: "One last question, would you mind coming over and taking a look at this body?" Kyzer(?): he squints at you and shrugs "i'd rather head back inside if its all the same to you, im not a coroner" Psalm: "It is not all the same, which is why I asked." Kyzer(?): he rolls his eyes "take it as no then" Psalm: "We'll bring him to you then." motions at Han like come w/ me Han: han has been gritting her teeth so hard but releases at this n hops over han looks down at psalm so that kyzer cant read her lips "whats your idea here?!" Kyzer(?): as soon as you start walking forward he slams the cane down onto the stones and yells louder than before gritting his teeth "i'll give you ooooone more chance here, walk away while im still feeling civil alright?" Han: "god, fuck this" han draws her bow at him "ARE YOU KYZER OR THEYORDS FLUNKY" Finn: "WERENT YOU THE ONE WHO TOLD ME HIS ACCENTS GONE?" Han: "I WANT CONFIRMATION, I DONT LIKE KILLING PEOPLE FOR NO GOOD REASON" Finn: "WE HAD EVERY GOOD REASON TO DO SO" Han: "YOUR REASON IS STUPID!!!!!!! I DONT EVEN GET WHAT HE DID TO PISS YOU OFF" Finn: "HE TOUCHED ME!!!! BUT THAT ASIDE BEING THEYORDS BODY HOPPING LACKEY SHOULD BE REASON ENOUGH, NO?" Han: "GOOD FUCK, DO U WANT TO KILL ANYONE WHO PASSES YOU ON STREET AND BUMPS INTO YOU???? AND I SAID, I DONT WANT TO HURT ACTUAL REAL KYZER"

Kyzer(?): his face twitches "DO NOT COMPARE ME TO THAT - ARGH!" he slaps his hand to his face as he watches the two of you argue with the most put upon resignation "i give up, people are simply too stupid, despite the best guidance" he flicks his staff out again and you see a bright green glow fire off. Psalm: "Finally, playing dumb was starting to get annoying.YOUR PERFORMANCE WAS SHIT" Finn: "YOU WERE AWFUL AS KYZER" <- fell for the performance but hes doing this bc psalm did it

With a swish of air the party feel the bushes behind them start crowding shut the entrance from which they came as the man across the way talks almost to himself.

Kyzer(?): "so be it, you'll feed the earth since it seems to shouting for it. maybe then they'll behave appropriately"

> 🎵   Leshy's Theme  /  Inscryption OST

The party ready themselves for combat as Han fires off a quick Hunter’s Mark on Kyzer across the way. As he sees tensions finally burst, Vinny nervously rushes off to the right before casting dancing light to illuminate the dark for the rest of the party.

Vinny: "I'M NOT QUITE SURE WHAT WERE DOING" trying to not trip over his own feet

As he scuttles off Kyzer steps back and taps his cane on the stone three times as if annoyed, as he does the party feel a rumble under the ground. Groups of scarecrows spring up from beneath the earth covered in dirt and roots, they start cackling into the night air, he takes a few more steps back and waits as they begin hopping about, malice in their eyes.

Keva quick pulls out an arrow aiming for the scarewcrow closest to her, the arrow skewers its chest it lets out a shriek before cackling loudly again shifting from side to side. She huffs before following after Vinny.

Rokka follows after, entering a rage and running towards the scarecrow in the flower patch ready to strike, but as he runs through he’s distracted by their beauty. He slows down, before coming to a stop, feeling sluggish and dazed. Unable to bring his eyes away from his surroundings.

Rokka: "RAAAAAOOOoooohhhh.....pretty....haha"

As he slows another scarecrow jumps through the dirt towards Vinny before slashing at him with its metal claws, he cries out witha  yelp. It lets out a shriek and cackle before jumping back again, though not before Keva can dig her dagger through it, it laughs all the while.

Another scarecrow in the distance hops a little to the side, before sniggering in an ugly tone, it shoots an ugly glare over towards Keva while cackling in the dark attempting something. Though she shakes her head shrugging off the effects.

Han follows up quickly letting off a few arrows to blind Kyzer, and then another at a scarecrow. He lets out a shout as she nails him, the bright flash makes him crouch and rub at his eyes irritated while gritting his teeth.

Han: "kyzer blinded, but does anyone have fire?!" Plum: "i have a flame spell!" Han: "think we have to get rid of these flowers..!"

Finn quickly follows after, jumping up and transforming into a bat with a flash of light and smoke, he begins to soar over the plants directly towards Kyzer. As he goes the scarecrow in front of Rokka hops over with a laugh, taking two swipes at him with its metal claws. Though the pain hurts its enough to wake him up from his slowed stupor.

Rokka: "HUH WH OW HEY!" Cimmorro: "GET OUT OF THERE!!" Rokka: Yelling with his eyes closed "UH OKAY"

Anxiously shouting at Rokka, Cimmorro turns and throws a shield of faith at Vinny before trying to speak to the rest of the party.

Cimmorro: "i can extinguish about 30ft of fire if you want to try to close the gap between us and this cunt, also, WHAT'S THE PLAN HERE, I ASSUME WE WANT HIM ALIVE FOR QUESTIONING" Plum: "well if he's dead it won't matter bc we can still talk to him?" also thumbs up at the fire Cimmorro: "are you referring to speak with dead? you need to understand that it's also limited" Psalm: "It might be easier if he's alive in that case." Plum: plum makes an o shape w their mouth like ok Psalm: "I'm going to try to charm him. I just need to get close." Cimmorro: "how close do you need to be" Psalm: "Within 30ft." Cimmorro: cimm gives you a nod Han: "we could go for knocking him out?? pacifying him? maybe we can figure out how to push other guy out of kyzers body??" Cimmorro: "right so we're not killing? all agree then? right? okay? good" Keva: keva nods from where she is Han: han nods and says louder "finn! knock out!" Finn: finn chirps in acknowledgement but idk if han hears it...!

Cimmorro runs hurriedly over in the same direction as Keva and Vinny as Psalm steps forward to let off an agonising blast at the scarecrow accosting Rokka. He blasts through it, sending a good chunk of it flying, it makes a weird sound but hops around as if excited.

Another scarewcrow standing near Kyzer wiggles around excitedly in the distance as it sees Finn flying over, it hops back like its trying to catch him. Though it is largely unsuccessful. Plum quickly casts a flaming sphere in the field near Rokka, careful to tell him not to get too close to it.

At the end of the round a final scarewcrow hops around tauntingly at them all in the distance, cackling away it it moves through the fields ominously.... the fight continues.

Notes

----

👨‍👩‍👦‍👦👨‍👨‍👧‍👦 The Party ENTERED COMBAT⚔🤺

🦇 Finn had a drink

🐸 A Friend was returned home

#recaps #WOOO

[hooman4ever]

‘Sunsets’ !SFW! Bo Sinclair x Male Reader

Contains: Homophobia

It wasn't often that Bo had moments to himself where he could simply kick back and enjoy a cold beer. As time passed by the sun in the sky shifted from the middle of the sky till it was dipping towards the earth. The sky was painted with an array of vibrant colors that captured the man's attention in full, his alcohol-riddled brain enchanted by the sight.

Bo would never admit it out loud but he was always fond of sunsets. He found great joy in watching the colors burn through the blue of the sky, challenging the boring blue colors of the day. As the colors shifted, the once pastel hues slowly darkened. Bo felt a sharp sting of nostalgia that had him daydreaming of sparkling eyes and warm hands that would grip his own while walking beside him, happy to simply breathe the same air as he did.

[Y/n]- the town pretty boy.

Your image was burned permanently in Bo's mind. Everything from the way you smiled warmly at him, hands outstretched all the way. You had looked scuffed up after helping him out of a tussle with the neighborhood brats.

He remembers the first time the both of you had met. Bo had been walking home alone, head held down and arms crossed in front of his chest, his face etched into a permanent smile that would warn off most people. Well, most- you had bounded up to him, one of your signature smiles stretching your lips. He had halted, his eyes widening as his mind whirled and his heart throbbed, something strange that had him second-guessing his plans of brushing you off. Your lips were moving but Bo did nothing but stupidly stare. The poor boy was too absorbed in all that was you to really process your words or the fact you were speaking at all.

Next thing he knew a frog was jumping from your outstretched hands, threatening to attack Bo with all its fury, causing you to stumble forward scrambling to grab the slimy amphibian. The both of you were a tangled bunch of limbs and blushing faces on the ground, a cloud of dirt pillowing into the sky around the both of you. Bo could hear his heart throbbing in his ears, you were so close together that he could feel your breath fanning against his face.

"My eyes!"

You had sat up, hands rubbing at your eyes as they watered, the dirt particles in the air stinging your eyes as a frog croaking could be heard in the background slowly getting more and more distant.

Bo was home later than usual that night. He had walked you home after you claimed to be blinded, stating that if he refused to walk you home that instant you may just die. So of course Bo couldn't leave you there in your current state.

Your hand was wrapped around his as he kept his own hands in a fist, refusing to make eye contact with you. His face was burning as soon as you had grabbed his balled-up hand. "I don't wanna trip," you had said leaving Bo without a reason to pull away. Or at least that's what he would say the next day when a group of kids who happened to peer upon the pair would ask teasingly as they waved sticks in the air threateningly. In reality, he had enjoyed the warmth of your hand around his, and halfway through the walk Bo found himself letting up unfurling his fingers till they were laced within your own.

After that, the boy couldn't get rid of you. You always found a way to strike when he least expected you. Whether it was when he was walking home or getting into some crap with the other kids, you would appear and he would be starstruck as he would watch you sucker punch some punk who had been reeling for a fight. He still remembers how you had looked back then, knuckles red and bleeding as you reached a hand out for him who had landed on the ground after a hard shove. And the next thing he remembered was having to pull the punk off of you after he had tackled you angrily with a rapidly bruising cheek. That night Bo had to patch you up and the whole time you were absolutely giddy, talking Bo's ear off only to hiss in pain occasionally before continuing your tangent your fists pumped up in the air excitedly.

Bo wasn't completely sure when your presence became normal and he was even less sure when your face became an image of safety and security for him. However, he does remember the first time he had shown up at your home alone.

His hands were shaking as his shoulders quivered. He knocked on the door frantically, instant relief flooding him when you answered the door half asleep and in your pajamas. It was late in the night and Bo had thrown himself in your arms as tears cascaded down his cheeks, his bottom lip quivering with silent sobs of agony. Despite being confused and delirious you had wrapped your arms around Bo's shoulders letting him hide his face in your chest with shame.

Bo had spent the night at your place. Not much was said when Bo was done crying, sitting numbly on your bed as you dabbed at an ugly bruise around his left eye. He was silent as you worked on his injuries. You were concentrated, your face serious but not cold and Bo couldn't help but unashamedly stare, soaking in the way your lips twitched in a scowl as you moved his sleeves up his arms exposing a fresh batch of suffering.

You had him all cleaned and bandaged before the both of you settled into your bed. Bo had instantly wrapped his arms around you seeking comfort he knew only you could provide to him. "He called me a fag-" Bo had said his voice cracking "My dad, he said he can't believe he had raised someone like me. Fucker didn't raise me at all." Bo paused looking at you shyly for reassurance and only after not seeing any disgust or disinterest in your eyes did he continue "Unless you count occasionally slappin' around as raisin' someone."

"It ain't right- how some people just get to be normal and happy," fresh tears fell from his eyes but he didn't hide instead choosing to ball your shirt up in his fists,"while I get beat on just for lovin' another man." by now his hands were shaking as they held your wrinkled shirt, "Why couldn't I have jus' been born a chick?"

You had placed a soft kiss on Bo's forehead as he cried, your arms never leaving your place around him.

That was all that was said that night. The two of you instead spent the rest of the night curled into one another, sharing occasional glances and light cautious kisses as the both of you waited for the sun to rise, seeing if the sun could break whatever curse the both of you had seemingly found yourselves in.

After that, the sun rose and then set again and again and the both of you never seemed to have broken the curse that bound you together. The both of you had tried everything but at the end of every day you both had found yourselves curled up into one another as the sun dipped beyond the horizon, sharing stolen kisses and touches wishing for one more day together.

Bo smiled drunkenly from where he sat on the porch after faring the dangerous path from the living room couch, the drink that was in his hand now somewhere on the ground as he held a freshly opened one. The sky was nearing complete darkness, the edges of the sky still lit up in dark hues that were quickly fading as the world was engulfed in the darkness of night.

"Glad to see I didn't miss the sunset completely."

"Ya almost did," Bo said in reply. You walked next to the drunk man, sitting next to him on the wooden step before taking the drink from his hands. "Hey-" you pecked his lips with your own silencing him "You know the rules. No booze or no cuddles," you said setting the can aside before cuddling next to Bo. "You drive a hard bargain there, sunshine," he said, wrapping an arm around you pulling you close, "but that's a trade-off I'm more than willing to make."

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x male reader #bo sinclair x male #bo sinclair x #fluff #fluff and angst #oneshot #short one shot #one shot #slashers #slasher #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o #slasher x y/n #male y/n #male reader #male anon

[farmfiction]

Petrichor

Newt Scamander x Reader

You are an avid gardener living on a small plot of land outside of London. Your good friend from Hogwarts, Newt Scamander, stays at your place a lot, as it is safe haven for him and his case.

It was a miserable spring day in London. The clouds matted the sky a dull grey colour which cooled the moist air to a chill. A few scattered showers soaked the streets intermittently throughout the day leaving small puddles in potholes and cracks.

You were just heading home from the nearby plant nursery, having picked up a small wagon cart of full of seedlings and plants that you were eager to get in the freshly thawed ground. You felt a little bit uneasy at the thought of dragging your plants home in the rain, knowing that they'd be fine but you're probably going to catch a chill. You were only wearing a thin jumper. So far the rain was on pause; you silently wished for it to hold up until you got home.

No such luck. About halfway through your 23 minute walk home, the clouds decided to open up. It wasn't pouring per se, it was a light rain but a persistent one. By the time you wheeled your plants into the cover of your small front porch, your hair was a frizzy, wet mess and your jumper was soaked. You parked the wagon against the railing under the cover of the porch roof and hurried inside, goosebumps all over your skin.

As you shook off your wet shoes, you noticed a familiar blue coat hanging on the rack. Your mood instantly lightened and you smiled to yourself, wondering what your good friend Newt was up to today. He usually only came to visit when he needed your help with herbal remedies or had to pick up a certain variety of heirloom tomato to feed to a particularly picky creature of his. You both lead very busy lives and rarely have time to catch up, so visits are always mainly working holidays. This doesn't bother you too much though, Newt always leaves you with a warm fuzzy feeling that lasts for days after he departs. You always secretly thought that you and Newt could be good together someday if he ever decided to settle, but you didn’t let that longing depress you. 

You grabbed a kitchen towel from the stove handle and quickly dried yourself off the best you could before glancing in the hallway mirror to frown at your rain-crazed locks. You smoothed them down as best you could and sighed before calling out.

"Newt??" You called out to nowhere in particular.

You doubted he was out in the back garden, there was nothing out there yet for produce and the weather wasn't very inviting.

You checked each room in your small home before finding Newt's case on the floor by your drawing table. He must’ve been reading your notes before he went to work in the suitcase. Your desk was a mess. You were in the middle of planning your main garden, writing down the name of every single plant variety and exactly where it would go. 

You figured he would be back out soon so you decided to change into dry clothes and put on a fire.

Thirty minutes went by. You were curled up on the couch in an old sun-bleached blouse and trousers when you eyed the suitcase again. 

 How long has he been down there??

You sighed and stared into the little fire for a minute debating whether or not to get up from your comfy resting spot to investigate. After another minute you groaned, getting up with a tired wobble. You went to go fetch your shoes and a blanket to drape around your shoulders. 

---

As you carefully descended into the small opening of the suitcase, you heard an all-too-familiar sound--- The pitter-patter of heavy rain. You heaved an exasperated sigh. You had JUST recovered from your precipitation-induced chill and had no desire to reignite that. You rolled your eyes and continued down into the suitcase.

You treaded carefully out of the entrance shed, folding your arms and the blanket tighter around your body in an attempt to stay dry as you took in the currently very wet surroundings of the world inside the suitcase. You heard Newt’s voice faintly and followed the sound through the rain. It was pouring, and the smell was a lot earthier than the rain you had left outside of the suitcase. The ground was very swampy, waterlogged and lush with mosses the closer you got to Newt. 

Newt had his back turned away from you, but you could see he was drenched. His vest was stuck to his jumper and his hair was flat to his head. He was waving his wand in the air slowly. You looked up, blinking through the raindrops landing in your eyelashes, to see the cloudy atmosphere of the biome start to dissipate. The rain slowed and you looked back at Newt to see him looking down at a froglike creature. It came up to his knee in height and its deep olive skin was glistening with moisture.

“There’s your drink, Tassel.” Newt murmured affectionately to the green lump at his feet.

He smiled and looked up to the clouds for a second to check that it stopped raining, putting his hands on his hips and taking a deep breath. You watched him with a big smile on your face, so ready to hear the story behind this creature and why it’s care involves drenching him in rainwater.

He turned around and spotted you, his expression going from calm and thoughtful to bright and wide-eyed instantly with a small posture shift and smile. 

“Y/N!” He chirped, splashing through the puddles over to you.

You smirked at the smiling, drowned rat in front of you, forgetting that you, too, once again were in the same state. 

“So? You’re about to tell me why you decided today of all days was a good day to saturate me after I just got dumped on at the greenhouses?” You questioned, whipping your wet hair back to demonstrate. 

“My pillywigs were thirsty.” Newt said matter-of-factly, a smile creeping up the side of his mouth. 

“Do I even have to ask?” You laughed, glancing past him to look at the seemingly content giant frog that the man was just talking to. 

Newt laughed and shook his head a little bit to air out the locks of hair plastered to his forehead.

“They can’t drink water normally due to the shape of their body, but they also can’t sit in water to drink. Their skin is a super-absorbent membrane that holds water for a long period of time, but if there’s too much water trying to get in they will become too heavy and essentially be.... crushed.” Newt explained with a cringe. 

“Therefore rain is the only way to hydrate them...?” You finish Newt’s explanation, understanding the whole concept now. 

He nods and flashes another amused smile. There’s a moment of silence between you two as you smile at eachother and the situation, before you unwrap the blanket from your shoulders and offer it to him. He happily takes it and puts half over his shoulders, outstretching an arm to invite you to come closer. You laugh and accept his invitation, ducking under his arm as he holds you against him and wraps the blanket over you both. You both watch the pillywig sit blissfully in the moss for a moment, then you yawn and bury your head against Newt’s neck. 

“I missed you, my Frog Prince.” You murmur jokingly.

You inhale the smell of his rain soaked jumper and the somewhat damp blanket. The pleasant mixed smell of rain, earth, and Newt fills your nostrils, and you swear there’s never been a better scent to ever exist. He hums and squeezes you closer to him quickly in reply and begins to lead you back towards the shack and out of the suitcase to go dry off. 

#imagine #imagines #newt scamander x reader #newt imagine #fantastic beasts imagine #self insert #this is my first fic #hope you like <3

[outofangband]

Not sure if it'd be too similar to Brethil but wondering if you'd make any changes for fauna of Doriath? Or, if not, flora and/or fauna of Ossiriand?

I’m working on a post on Doriath! My mum is getting me The Flora of Middle Earth for my birthday so that will definitely add to my research abilities

Ossiriand is large so this is by necessity an overview, a full list of species would likely be thousands, even tens of thousands long!  so let me know if you have more specific questions!

Flora and fauna of Arda masterlist 

Disclaimer: I used both what we can extrapolate is likely indigenous to the region based on descriptions of the landscape and climate as well as my own headcanons and inspirations and reference books on similar habitats as well as books like The Atlas of Middle Earth and The Flora of Middle Earth

I really love working on and researching these! and as always feel free to ask more, even if I've already done a place I'd always enjoy going into more detail of tacking a more specific kind of life there

Ossiriand is a realm in Eastern Beleriand, bordered on one side by the Blue Mountains and the river Gelion on the other. Parts of Ossiriand were among the only parts of Beleriand to survive past the first age.

Ossiriand has a description of a gentle, warm climate full of coniferous forests. This is in contrast to the taiga like climate of Dorthonion, also noted for coniferous forests.

Redwood, sequoia, cypress, Douglas Firs, bays, spruce, cedar and hemlock like species possibly make up the forests.

Plants found in these forests are varied but just a few examples are Eriogonum fasciculatu, junegrass, blackberry, Douglas Iris, black sage, evergreen huckleberry, bayberry, a variety of ferns (sword fern and deer fern are two examples), lupine, cow parsnip, red willow, alder, creeping snowberry, ocean spray, thimbleberry, salmonberry, blueblossom, Grindelia hirsutula, salal, bog Labrador tea, and buckthorn

The abundance of rivers and other sources of water mean a variety of fish perhaps including species like trout and salmon, lamprey, sculpin, suckers, sunfish, grass carp as well as potentially giant salamanders. (Once again very much want to include prehistoric or extinct creatures). There are also likely an abundance of freshwater mollusks

Smaller and vernal pools are breeding grounds for tree frogs and other, smaller salamanders.

Also a variety of river birds; herons, teals, cormorants, grebes, murrelet, kingfisher, warblers, wood ducks, Chendytes, rail, wrens, osprey, mallard, grosbeak, and ibis.

Pine martins, brown bears, red, gray and kit foxes, bobcats, black tailed deer, elk, cascade mountains wolf are possible mammals as well as a variety of smaller ones such as flying squirrels.

I hope this is ok! Thank you so much for the ask! I love researching and writing these

#Ossiriand #The Silmarillion #Beleriand #musing and meta

[whaleofatjme1920]

At the End of Your Rope (Jeff the Killer X F!Reader)

At the End of Your Rope

[Jeff the Killer X F!Reader]

[Warnings: heavy domestic abuse, violence, murder (not heavily described though), language]

[AN: This one's kinda heavy in some places. Take care of yourself first and foremost.]

It was rare that you had moments to yourself and even rarer when you found yourself enjoying those moments. Usually, you were tense, on edge, bitey and waiting to snap or invert back into yourself. That is what it does to you. It takes away, it destroys and it saps you of all your energy, your drive and your will.

No matter, that’s not what you’re supposed to be thinking about. You hum softly as you do the dishes, wondering how long this set of plates will last until he returns. You scrub hard at the bits still stuck to it, wondering how on earth he even managed to get this much filth plastered onto its surface - you made the meal, served it to him, you even took it back to the sink. Was he trying to key you off?

You took in a deep breath and scratched at its surface, only smiling softly when the piece finally dislodged from the blue floral design. You ran it under the sink, lukewarm water feeling alien against your skin as you continued to mindlessly rinse off the suds. As you began to stare off into space and by extension, the void, you found yourself remembering the times he used to bring you blue flowers at the beginning of every date.

A long time ago, when you were starry eyed about the world around you, he loved you deeply and truly. And it was the most strange of couplings, but they do say that opposites attract.

Last class of the day, what a relief. What wasn’t a relief was that it was chemistry. You’d never been particularly good at the subject, but you would often try your hardest and so far, throughout the year, had managed to coast by with a -B. It wasn’t perfect but it was good enough.

For the people around you who knew you better than that, they were more than surprised you hadn’t managed an A in the class just yet. You were the over achiever, the smart girl, the one who knew it all. But not in a cocky way, no, of course not. You were sweet, helpful and kind. That’s what spared you from how cruel teenagers can get - your aura was incredible and people would be absolutely dense to not like you. For the most part, you were quiet and only spoke to a few close friends.

Unfortunately for you, your last period chemistry class didn’t have any of your dear ones near. You sat in the middle of the classroom, attempting to take notes and kept your head down, honestly focused on the material when you heard laughter from the back of the classroom.

“Don't make me come back there,” your teacher said, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Do I need to split you up?”

“No, sorry Mrs. Haut,” a dark haired boy piped up.

Mrs. Haut rolled her eyes slightly before going back to writing on the chalkboard. She was talking about the electron configuration of atoms or something like that when the laughter picked back up again. Mrs. Haut sighed again before continuing writing. “One of you move up here by Miss Reader, another by Miss. Rhys, and another by Mr. Clarke.”

The three boys in the back verbally voice their distaste with their teacher’s decision but ultimately went along with it. You buried yourself in your notes even deeper when you realized just who it was sitting next to you. Usually, the person sitting next to you wouldn’t bother you, but the fact that this was by far the most disruptive person in the class had you a little flustered. You couldn’t afford skipping the notes or getting sidetracked especially with midterms coming up.

“You have a pen?” He asked quietly.

That made you pause. “Excuse me?”

“A pen..?” He repeated, albeit a little slowly, as to really get the point across.

You didn’t want to disrupt your teacher any further by the idle chit chat and quietly rummaged in your bag for a pen. Once your fingers grazed the object, you plopped it back onto the desk and got back to writing.

“Thanks,” he said.

Your eyes wandered from your notes over to him - and he smiled at you. Fighting back slight heat, you began scribbling down the notes with a nod as if to say ‘no problem.’

The lesson continued on for a little bit longer until you felt him gently poking your shoulder. You pried your eyes off of the board to give him the attention he so desperately craved. With an eyebrow raised, you asked him what was on his mind.

“What’s your name?” He asked softly.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks - how the hell did he miss your name? You were the only consistent question asker in this class! “... Reader,” you answered, eyes narrowed slightly at the fact he’d miss your name. Though, you do suppose what else could you expect from a class clown? “And what is your name?” You asked simply out of politeness.

His eyes widened in shock, and his face followed in suit. “You seriously don’t know?”

When you shook your head he gave a quiet, but exasperated groan and then flew into a tanger about who he was. The guy who set all those frogs loose last year, the same one who orchestrated turning all the furniture upside down, the guy who did donuts on the football field and the one who covered half the auditorium on elaborate post it notes art.

And unfortunately for you, none of those rang a bell. “I knew someone did it, but I didn’t know you were the one who did it.”

And that spirited yet another tangent from the boy sitting next to you. He went into painstaking detail about how he even got some of those things done, and you pretended to care, more so interested in the passion in his eyes than the actual content of the story. He was a surprisingly good storyteller! You hadn’t even realized the both of you had been chatting more than note taking when everything went dead silent. Much too silent.

“Miss Reader, I am more than disappointed in you,” Mrs. Haut said with another frown pulling on her red lips. “Both of you, detention.”

Your eyes widened in shock as she slapped down two pink slips on your shared table.

“Again?” The boy next to you asked incredulously, taking the note into his fingertips along with his bag in the other hand. “Mrs. H, this is like the second time this month!”

Mrs. Haut only shook her head and gestured towards the door, her shoe tapping impatiently on the ground.

“There’s only thirty more minutes left of class,” you said as you began to pack up your things. “I... “ Upon seeing your teacher’s tired expression,and not being one to directly challenge authority, you relented. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled before taking the slip into your grip and exiting her classroom. You took in a deep breath and trudged out of the classroom, wondering how you would explain to your parents your record had a spot on it when you exited the classroom and closed the door softly behind you.

“Do you know where the room is?” You posed your question to the resident class clown with a crestfallen expression.

“You’re actually planning on going?” He said it like it was a surprise.

“Uh, yeah? Where else would I be going?”

“I don’t know, but we can figure it out.” He smiled widely at you and plucked the pink slip from your hand.

“Wait what-? Give that back!” You cried out as quietly as you could to not disturb the other classes.

“C’mon, Princess, come and get it,” he teased. It didn’t sound like he had malice in his tone though.

You chased him through the hall attempting to get the slip back, narrowly avoiding the watchful gaze of hall monitors and the like when you found he had led you out to the parking lot. You didn’t have a car.

“Let’s go,” he beamed, scrunching up both of your pink slips in his hand before tossing them into the trash. “I wasn’t joking about figuring it out together.”

“I… But-”

“But nothing, Princess. Live a little.” He nodded for you to follow him, and you, feeling much too awkward to challenge someone, found yourself being led by him to his car. It wasn’t a fancy car, but it wasn’t near as run down as you expected it to be. It looked like he kept it relatively decent, and the scent was that of lemon. Whatever, live a little.

You slid into the passenger seat and put on your seatbelt as he became once again.

“Atta girl!” He chuckled as the car roared to life. He then flicked on the radio, turned up some music and the two of you left the school.

You can’t quite say you’ve ever had fun like that before. He took you to a diner, out bowling, you two snuck into a movie theatre then got smoothies before he dropped you off at home. And he was so sweet and kind throughout it all. He made you laugh, listened to you attentively, and over smoothies, he attempted to help you study a bit. It was moot, but it was nice that he even attempted.

That was what started a beautiful friendship that lasted throughout the rest of that academic year. Later, it blossomed into a relationship, and further, it transformed into marriage. The day he asked you to marry him was one of the best days of your entire life - and then, you were convinced you had met your soulmate. He was everything you’d ever wanted in a partner, and he was oh so helpful and attentive.

High school sweethearts was what you were referred to, and you both fit the image so well. You were practically glowing anytime anyone had seen you. Your marriage had happened too fast, but you were convinced he was your one and only unaware that growth comes in many forms. And in this specific case, the roots have burst the pot.

Back then, he used to give you flowers nearly every day in various shades of the rainbow. Blue seemed to be the preferred though.

“You always get these, why?” You had asked one evening, fingertips gently petting the soft petals.

“Apparently, they mean something poetic,” he replied before pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “That’s what the flower guy keeps telling me. And they’re kinda hard to find,” he continued, eyes looking out at the starry night sky the two of you laid under. “So, whenever they come in, I grab them tight and bring them back to my baby.”

You giggled slightly before shutting him off with a kiss.

They were damn near unattainable after the two of you had gotten married. It seemed they’d gone out of style, or perhaps they just weren’t thriving as they used to. One day, when you were lonely and missing your husband, you pulled out an old book on various flora and fauna. You must’ve spent hours upon hours learning about the area you lived in when you chanced upon a dash of blue.

Cornflowers, they were cornflowers.

The flowers on the plate you’d run under the faucet for far too long weren’t the same shade of blue, but they were just as pretty. It’s a shame that these plates would most likely be broken before the month was out.

Gods, when did he change? It was hard to pinpoint it because the two of you had been under each other’s spell for a good chunk of that time. When did he flip the switch? When did he… You shook your head and turned off the faucet, deciding you were done with the dishes for now. Accidentally, when you were placing the plate back in its place, you bumped your forearm on the counter. With a wince, you hissed and mentally reminded yourself to mind the bruises that were still fresh there. He gripped your wrist so hard that night you were sure it was going to snap right off.

He really wasn’t like this in the beginning and your mind raked constantly with reasons as to why when you laid awake at night hoping he wouldn’t go too far or burn a bridge only to find it needed to be rebuilt with supplies that no longer existed.

It was nearing the late evening and he wasn’t supposed to be home until later in the night. You could afford to relax for just a little longer. With a deep breath, you walked up the stairs dead set on drawing a bath to just let your mind go blank. Hidden away in the bathroom sink’s cabinet was a ‘mix’ of herbs and such a dear friend of yours had said would aid in relaxing your soul and maybe your wounds. You could only use the clumsy excuse for so long.

You opened the door to your bathroom, quietly shut it behind you and didn’t bother locking it. If he was here, you might have, but you weren’t expecting him back until much, much later. You could afford to breathe. You drew the faucet and let it run for a moment or two until the water got a little warmer, then you plugged the tub and let it fill. You crouched down and poked your hand around towards the back of the bathroom sink before finding the jar filled with herbs and salts. It smelled divine even when closed. Unscrewing the lid, you are able to take in the scent of lavender, chamomile, rosebuds, sweet lemongrass and vanilla. Pink sea salt for added effect made the bath look heavenly when you poured in a generous scoop. As the water heated the herbs, you notice the rosebuds blooming into large, pink and red flowers. It was nothing short of magickal and filled you with some type of serenity.

Once the water was to your liking, you stripped and got into the tub, sighing in contentment as the water heated your form up. And from there, you let your mind go blank and take in the aroma of the herbs and flowers. You feel the stress leaving your body. You wish you could feel like this forever.

You allow your brain to wander as you relax and find it going back to your husband every single time. If he wasn’t asked to sit next to you, would you have been in this awful situation now? This was no way to live - and you wondered if you had just gone to detention that day if things would be different, or perhaps better. You thought you were able to pinpoint when everything went wrong when yet another starting point would come into your mind. It was like your brain was purposely making you move the goalposts so you wouldn’t be retraumatized by anything all over again.

It started small and in little bouts. He lost his patience with you. If you accidentally burnt the pancakes? It was alright but don’t let it happen again. Over watered the petunias just once? Great, now he needed to go to the store and pick up some new ones should those suffer root rot that was relatively treatable. Couldn’t get dinner ready on time? What a mess. Said something slightly off base? Your intelligence was being actively questioned. It kept snowballing until it reached the first time he hit you. Which was a dark enough day that you rather not think about.

He said he loved you. That he would protect you and make sure you were safe from all harm. But he broke that the moment his hand slapped your face so hard you felt the air leave your lungs. That was a really dark day, but it was not the darkest yet.

You must’ve spent close to an hour in the bath when you heard the front door opening. Shit, he wasn’t supposed to be back. You feel your heart pounding as you leap out of the bath, quickly drying yourself before throwing your clothes back on. In your haste, you forget to unplug the bath. But it’s too late, you hear him coming up the stairs. Seconds later, he’s in your shared bedroom.

“Reader? Where are you?” He sounds exhausted. Upon seeing the bathroom door closed, he stalks up to it. “Reader? Open up, Princess.”

It’s not the first time he’s tried to soften the blow like this.

“I-I’m still in the tub-”

“Sure, sure, sweetie,” he hums. “Can you uh, tell me why you haven’t gotten any food ready if you were going to fuck around in the tub like this then?”

Your heart constricts and your stomach twists. “I didn’t know you were gonna be home this early,” you say softly, ready to brace the door.

“Oh you forgot,” he says as if he’s speculating whether that was a decent answer or not. “You forgot,” he repeats. He stands in front of the bathroom door, swaying slightly like he’s waiting for you to come to you. “Come out of the bathroom.”

“I just drew it-”

“Did I ask for your excuses?”

“No-”

“Then come out of the FUCKING BATHROOM!” He hits the door so hard you thought you heard it splintering.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You cried out as you immediately rammed against the door, struggling to keep your husband back from breaking it down.

He didn’t answer, only continued to rattle off about everything wrong. She kicked the door harder and harder, sending you bouncing against the wood. You continued to cry out in pain but dug your shoulder into the door as you prayed it would be enough to keep him out.

“Stop, stop, STOP IT!” You felt tears pour out from your eyes as your husband pounded the door. “You’re being crazy right now, stop it!” Your throat felt raw with anguish as you continued to screech, head coming dangerously close to bouncing against the door as your husband began kicking it.

Eventually, he succeeded. He backed up, reared his leg up and took three hard hits, successfully kicking the door down. You went flying down with it and tumbled down the tile floor with a yelp of pain, landing sharply on your hip. You looked up through your pain and saw he was standing before you, fists balled and nothing but rage in his eyes.

“I told you to fucking let me in,” he seethes as he narrows in on you. Before he can touch you, his eyes travel to the tub. “And now you’re clogging up my fucking pipes?” He asks in an exasperated tone as he feels his blood pressure rise. “You need to learn a lesson,” he sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair. “When dogs are just puppies and they have an accident,” he begins as he bends down to the ground and nears you as you struggle to crawl away from him. “You take their nose and bury it into their mess.” He finishes. He straddles your waist and sloughs off your weak attempts to get him off of you.

You continue to cry and scream, beg and plead as his hands snake up your arms and to your hair. And your eyes widen as he takes a fistfull and then roughly stands up, dragging your body up with him.

“You fucking dog,” he spits as he drags you upwards. He begins to drag you towards the tub.

“No, NO!” You plead as you dig your heels into the tile, trying to grip onto the sink for dear life as he continues to drag you. You feel your strands of hair damn near get lifted from your scalp as he continues to yank you. He’ll kill you if you don’t put up a fight. “I’m sorry! Gods, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Whatever I did to piss you off I promise that it won’t happen again!” You attempt to reason as he finally pries your hands off the sink.

“You should’ve known that to begin with,” he replies as he pulls your hair harder. He then brings you to the tub and roughly shoves you to its lip. You catch yourself and try to get away when he pushes at the back of your head. You still continue to fight him, crying and pleading even harder as your husband kicks in the back of your legs, attempting to cripple you further to get you to bend. You continue to push back, staring into the now cold bath like it’s a watery grave.

A scream rips through your throat as he hits the back of your skull, having you gasping for air and consciousness. He takes that moment as your weakness and finally overpowers you. Your head is thrust below the waters, and you find yourself screeching all the while. From above the water’s surface, you can hear your once beloved husband muttering about you and the faults of your character as he holds you under the water. Before you can even register that air is in your lungs again, you’re plunged back into the water, coughing and hacking all the while as he does so.

When he grows tired of continually plunging your head into the water, he picks up your lower half and tosses you in, sending the water and herbs flying everywhere as your clothed body enters the freezing tub. Your tears mix with the remnants of the bathwater as he holds you under, nothing but rage in his eyes as he does.

When you feel like it’s too much, you begin to let go. Perhaps darkness would be a nicer sight than the sunrise of tomorrow.

You open your eyes slowly to see that you’re still in the tub and laying in a small pool of water that isn’t enough to harm you regardless of how you were laid. You feel aches all over and you feel like water is weighing down your lungs. Slowly, you get to your bearings as you prop yourself up. Step by step and painstaking muscle movement by muscle movement, you stand and grip the edge of the tub, realizing you need to change out of your clothes. You pause momentarily to look at yourself in the mirror.

“Gods,” you whisper to yourself. You look like you were in a car accident. There’s bruises on your throat and your face from where he tried to slam you into the bathtub, and your face is puffy and discolored from crying. Your hair is knotted and you feel like no amount of conditioner on earth can get that out - to even think about detangling it is a nightmare. Your clothes are ripped and waterlogged. Everything about you screams pathetic. When you turn your head and look at the door, you see it’s broken beyond repair. He kicked it out of its latches and the wood itself is splintered in two.

You quietly step out of the bathroom, ready to change into drier clothes when you see your husband sitting at the edge of the bed, waiting for you. You feel yourself begin to shiver, momentarily feeling your mind drift elsewhere to protect your brain from further trauma.

“You’re finally up,” he says, a blank expression on his face. “Are you okay?”

You feel disgust come up in the back of your throat but swallow it back down in favor of not angering him further. “I’m fine,” you lie, not bothering to plaster on a smile.

“Good.” He slowly stands up. “I’m heading out. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.” He holds his arms out to you.

Shivering and absolutely terrified, you find yourself bending to his will. Quietly, you pad across the carpet to him and allow yourself to be wrapped up in his arms. His arms feel like a metal cage as they wrap around your quivering form.

“I’m sorry,” he says emptily as he buries his nose into your hair. “It won’t happen again.” He sways the two of you side to side as he holds you a little tighter, not bothering to mind the bumps and bruises he inflicted on your body.

You internally sigh and hollowly nod, allowing him to hold you.

He said that the last time.

It’s been a few days since your husband flew off the handle like that. Your husband stayed in the house, but like every time before, he pretended nothing had happened and instead vied for avoiding you. In a day or so, he’d be back to pretending he still loved you. But, your mind wasn’t entirely on him coming back to you and acting sweet - it was on everything in between.

See, this isn’t the first time that something of this caliber has happened to you. Convenience was something that seemed to pop up in your life more often than not, and you’d just accepted it. The first time you could remember it was when you were in your garage, trying to have a moment alone after your husband had shoved you into a wall for not making the potatoes the way he wanted (what a stupid thing to be upset over). As you sat at the workbench, sobbing quietly, your attention was pulled towards a thing of antifreeze. It was just propped up there. You don’t remember buying it, nor did you remember your husband buying it either. Neither of you regularly did car maintenance, nor did it seem like the kind used for a pool (which neither of you had). What on earth was it even doing here?

You quietly picked up the bottle and tossed it before your husband came calling for you to redo the potatoes.

The second time you noticed something much too conveniently placed was when the coffee in front of you was decaf. Your husband was terrible at waking up in the mornings, and the only thing that kept him up was his morning coffee on the drive to work. Well, one morning it was decaf in the keurig- and you almost didn’t notice it. The last time that happened, he’d almost swerved off the road. In a panic, you switched it to the right one before he noticed. If neither of you did, it could have claimed his life as the drive from your neck of the woods to the city was kind of dodgy in general.

The third most prominent time was semi-recently. You were cooking and once you finished, carried about your day. When you stopped by the kitchen to grab your keys and head to town for some shopping, you noticed that the gas was left on. Your husband was due to come home soon - if it stayed on for any longer, it might have killed him. Of course, you turned it off, but your hand lingered on the dial just a moment longer, wondering what would have happened if you didn’t turn it off. Feeling monstrous for even letting that thought pop into your head, you pulled back your hand like you had thrown it into the fire.

Those were just some of the most prominent things that happened. There were also little things that occurred as well, such as the TV always being clicked onto certain types of true crime documentaries entailing warring spouses, or the reading material being a tad too detailed in how to get away with things that obviously weren't legal. It started with petty theft, or piracy, and then moved onto other things that were much too unpleasant for you to even detail. All of these things seemed to be calling you towards something more sinister than you had ever imagined.

And until now, you’d managed to hold it all back. Sure, you entertain yourself by watching the documentaries and reading the material (which you wonder deeply who put it in your mailbox to begin with) but you never actually thought to harm him, did you?

It all came to a head a few weeks after the bathtub incident. He pushed you around plenty since then, but it hadn’t crossed the threshold like what happened back then - and that was enough to keep you at bay until this specific dinner. Apparently, your husband had missed out on a promotion given to someone younger and more ambitious than him and that killed him on the inside. He had a chip on his shoulder and he was dead set on taking it out on you.

“Gave it to that little prick,” he mumbles as he stabs at his food.

“I’m sure you’ll get it next time-”

“Next time? That’s half a fucking year away,” your husband replies as he bites down on his food. “Worthless job and can’t even move up in it. Stuck in this hellhole,” he continues to mutter as he stabs around.

Not wanting to even think about flaring him, you just drink uncomfortably at your water. “Is…” You close your mouth, not wanting to even hear his voice.

“No, no, finish your thought,” he says with a deep sigh.

“It’s not important.”

“My wife has something to say, she says it.”

“No, really I-”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Reader, spit it out.”

“Is the food okay?” You ask quietly as you avert your eyes to anywhere but at him. You gulp thickly, worrying that you’ve upset him further and lament even opening your mouth up to begin with.

“It’s awful,” he replies before taking another bite. “You must really be testing me, y’know that?”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“I know.”

Uncomfortable silence passes between the two of you as dinner goes on with that same unease. You practically exude discomfort as you sit there, picking at your food and not wanting to even stomach it as long as this monster sits across from you. You wonder if your husband is going to go on one of his tangents when he answers that useless question by opening his mouth.

He talks a lot about how much he hates work, his coworkers, his lot in life, literally anything he could complain about and everything. He has such a hatred for the world around him that you wonder if it was always hiding just below the surface when you first met him. Probably. People tend to grow into who they were always meant to be as the years go on.

“And you,” he continues, pointing his fork in an accusatory manner at you. “You are the worst part of it,” he says as he narrows his eyes. He does this to you at every meal. And by the end of it, he’s always so riled up he almost breaks the plates. “Remember that girl, Jada? From honors math?”

You quietly nod.

“I should’ve married her. Girl with some brains and a nice ass,” he muses. “Instead I settled for you. Worthless, bruised and battered, puffy faced you,” he says with absolute vitriol, getting more and more riled up as his complaints carry on. “Hell, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have been thrown in detention again either.”

“That wasn’t my fault-”

“Oh so she speaks, does she?” He stands up.

You brace yourself.

“You know better than that,” he says lowly like a tiger waiting to pounce. “Than to talk back to me in my OWN GODDAMN HOUSE!” The plates and the dinner go flying off the table as he roughly shoves his arms across it.

There go the plates that reminded you of something nicer.

You immediately stand up and gasp, your chair flying back as you do so. Your hands fly up as your husband’s hands grip ar your wrists, his power taking over your frail form as he begins hurling you backwards to the countertop.

“Teach you to talk to me like that again,” he growls as he slams you down onto the counter, wrists not being jostled into his one hand. “You’ll never learn,” he mumbles, strill wrangling you down to the countertop.

From the corner of your eye, you could see him reaching towards the knife rack - and you see your very life fly before your eyes as he palms one.

You begin to repeat no like a mantra as he grips the knife and then lets go of your wrists, hsi hand going to the collar of your shirt. You cry out as your hands balled into fists and start punching, your legs being held by his body as his hand latches onto your throat and squeezes. Tears prick your eyes once again as his eyes flick down to your shirt.

“Stop!” You weakly cry out as his fingers dig into your flesh.

He raises the knife, a mad look on his faze as the steel catches the light. It shines, and then comes plunging down.

You scream as the knife is stabbed much too close to your neck, instead trapping you by snagging your shirt to the counter.

“You stay here and think about all the trouble you’ve caused,” he says in a ‘bubbling with rage’ tone as he shoves your head into the counter. “And clean up this mess.”

Once he leaves and slammed the front door shut, you pry yourself free from the knife and then fall to the floor sobbing, once again feeling your heart broken over your husband treating you so. But, once the rain fell, all that came was a ping - a spark. As you finally composed yourself and began cleaning his mess, the spark ignited to a flame that grew like wildfire in your mind’s eyes as you gingerly picked up the pieces of plates that you held such saccharine fondness over.

You couldn’t stand for this anymore.

With exhaustion sweeping over your body and the kitchen now cleaned, you allow yourself to move on autopilot and move upwards towards your bedroom. You don’t bother changing and plop down onto it. You stare at your ceiling, wondering if you should run away or - oh! Here comes a thought. With your eyes inching towards your nightstand, you finally give into the overwhelming feeling to open the drawer and you do so. Your hand gropes around before you finally touch something cold. Your mind lurches once you realize what it is.

You sit up, more than surprised to see the handle of a gun under your fingertips. On it is a sticky note with a smiley face: ‘don’t forget to turn off the safety :)’. A shiver of horror runs down your spine when you realize there’s a silencer attached to it. Gods, you knew he had a gun but a silencer? Everything about this - you knew it was wrong.

But holding it in your hand… That felt right.

You decided to stay quiet on things for now and think. Afterall, he was stronger than you. You couldn’t just confront him with the gun. He might wrestle it out of you and shoot you instead. You couldn’t take that kind of risk right now. So, you waited, looked over the gun some more, and waited.

Your husband entered back into the house at some gods awful time at night, more than pleased to see the house was back in order as it should be as he closed the door behind him. He was exhausted on all facets (though it could not hold a candle to how you were feeling) as he trudged up the stairs.

You laid in bed, pretending to be asleep. You knew what had to be done.

When your husband came in, huffed and got ready for bed, you itched for the trigger. You knew you had to act soon, but not too fast or he could hurt you again an take you out instead. Your breath hitched when you felt him sit on the bed and get comfortable, of course, turned away from you.

You took in a deep breath, closed your eyes, and held the gun in your hand once you felt him slip into sleep. The moments felt like hours as you quietly sat up and held the gun in your hands. Were you really going to do this?

Your mind flashed with hundreds upon hundreds of possibilities. At one point, a long time ago, you loved him. You loved him deeply and truly.

You took aim.

You shot.

Gods, if you knew it was going to be this hard to drag his body out here, you would’ve chosen a different place to shoot him. Dragging your now dead husband through the woods behind your house was an absolutely miserable process. You were working up a sweat as you did so and it was so dark that you could hardly make heads or tails of anything.

Finally, guided by the moonlight, you came to a place that looked more than decent. It was far enough, and the growth here was so heavy that if you tumbled the earth around, it would hardly look like anyone had disturbed it to begin with.

“Always making things harder on me,” you mumble as you toss his limp body back to the earth before you juggle the shovel you’d dragged along into your hands. You let your mind go blank as you began to cut into the soil.

A plethora of thoughts entered into your head as you shoveled away, making a deep enough hole to throw your deceased husband in. In a way, you didn’t think he deserved a hole this nice, but you knew deep down you had to hide the body. You continued to shovel, and once you finally made it deep enough to your liking, rolled his body into the ground.

“Didn’t think you had it in you,” a low, slightly gravelly voice chuckles, slow clapping.

“Who’s there?” You ask in a slightly panicked tone, holding the shovel up like a weapon. “I… I won’t hesitate-”

“Don’t make me laugh,” the voice continues, a playful bite on every syllable. “No, no, you did good.”

Your eyes frantically look around for the voice when you hear a whistle. There, behind you, is a man. Possibly mid 20s, shoulder length black hair, pale skin that rivals the light of the moon, wearing a hoodie covered in things you’d rather not think of and taller than you by a good head or so.

“You gonna put the shovel down?” He asks with a brow raised.

Hesitantly, you lower the shovel in your grasp just to let him get a little closer. Your eyes widen when you see he’s cut a smile into his face. “Who… Who are you?”

“I’ll tell you if you finish your job here,” he says as he nods to the uncovered, deceased body of your husband. “And before you go through the typical ‘oh my gods, are you gonna turn me in’ bullshit so many of you seem to go through, rest assured that I’m not gonna do anything to you. Just finish your job. Can you do that for me, Bird?” He leans against the tree, looking at you with a small smark.

A mind too frazzled for anything else, you nod and get back to work. It doesn’t take near as long to fill the hole as it did to carve it out, which was a pleasant surprise. When you were done, you wiped the sweat from your brow.

“What are you doing here?” You asked as you held the shovel firmly in your hands.

“Checking in on you,” he replies. “You want to go back to your house and-”

“No,” you cut him off, eyes averting down the ground. “Anywhere but there right now.” You say softly, gesturing to the disturbed earth.

The man pops off the tree and stalks over to the hole you’d covered, lightly shoving some foliage on top of it. “Okay, still sensitive. I get that,” he hums. “Follow me then. Let’s take a walk.” He nods for you to follow, blue eyes silently telling you to bring the shovel along with you.

Not wanting to be near his body anymore despite it being packed below the ground, you relent and follow.

“So, you did good, really good,” the man says as he puts his hands back in his hoodie pockets.

“Why do you keep saying that?” You ask, quickly matching pace with him. “And I never did get your name..?” You trail off slightly, taking in the deep scent of the woods around you. The scent of pine and autumn fills your nose.

“Because you did my job for me, and it’s Jeff,” he replies, his arm momentarily pushing back some low hanging pines. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you for a while, Bird.” He chuckles softly when he sees your confused expression.

“Really? Bird?” You repeat in a dry tone, face deadpanning at the very mention of it. “Job?”

“You’re flighty, like a bird, and judging by how fast you switch topics, bird.” He smiles, continuing to lead you further and further into the woods and away from your now empty house. “Little while back, I was asked to kill your husband. But, I saw you during one of my stalking outings and well, thought I could make things interesting.” He says it like it’s nothing and common knowledge.

“You what?” You ask in a surprised tone. “You stalked us?”

“Well, yeah,” Jeff says. “Normally, I don’t take that much care in my work. I tend to gut first and never ask questions, but you posed something interesting in my wake.”

“Holy fuck,” you murmur as you continue to trot throguh the woods. “We’re both going to jail.”

“Me? Absolutely not. You? Well,” he turns his attention to the deer path laid before the two of you and smiles at the open, moonlit field. “Depends on how you’ll answer my question.”

The two of you step through the remaining brush and finally reach the field. You had no idea this place was even behind your house or even so close. Tall grass rising to your waist sways gently in the wind as you step out of the trees and into the open air. Stars dot the sky as the moon hangs overhead. This place feels nostalgic. Out in the distance is a little stone structure, and upon Jeff taking you closer to it, it’s a little stone shelter.

“Take a seat, gonna be a while,” Jeff says as he rummages around in his pocket. He pulls out a lighter, bends down and lights the pieces of wood conveniently left inside of it, and the night is no longer cold.

You get comfortable and let your exhausted body rest. “Have you been watching me for long?”

“Longer than necessary,” Jeff answers as he cracks his back before finally getting comfortable. “But, I only watched you from a distance. Tell me about yourself first, let me know it wasn’t a mistake to let you breathe.” He smirks at you and winks, sending shivers down your spine.

You take in a deep breath, not really feeling anything but exhaustion and decide to tell him. You tell him everything, about your childhood, about little intricacies and so on. You told him about high school and how you met your husband. Little stories, anecdotes, memories and feelings resurfaced as you detailed how everything was bliss. And then one day, it wasn’t.

“Something in him snapped and went rotten,” you sigh. “And he hurt me. Hurt me really bad.”

Jeff looks up from the fire to see how the light dances across your skin. It’s here that he’s finally able to see the extent of your dead husband’s power over you. Bruises darker than your natural shade line your skin like oddly erased marks on a stubborn piece of paper. Your eyes are hollow, devoid of all life. Hair from your scalp is oddly placed as if it’s still trying to grow back. Your posture conveys nothing but pure exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a tone that’s much more gruff than he originally means. It’s not that he doesn’t genuinely feel bad, it’s that he’s awful at actually verbalizing it. In truth, Jeff doesn’t like abusers. They make him feel wrong, make him feel like something’s not fair. Jeff like to fancy himself as someone who goes by the rule of ‘equality.’ If you pick on someone weaker than you with them having no chance of fighting back or at least inflicting the same damage back, you are nothing but a coward who gets off on hurting smaller people. And that in his mind is nothing short of detestable. “Guess good on me for letting you take him out, huh?”

You look at him with an odd mixture of confusion and absolute relief. “I guess,” you say, the sound of serenity slipping into your tone. “And what about you? What originally sent you out here?”

“Tall guy in a suit,” he stated, a small scowl pulling at his lips. “Y’know, he’s interested in you.”

“Tall guy in a suit?”

“Slender Man. I call him ‘Pale Ass’ though. He’s like… A murderous businessman. Has little drones to do his work even though he’s more than capable of doing it himself. And that’s where you come in.” Jeff shifts slightly and fixes his posture. “He’s the guy who originally wanted your husband dead. Sent me to do it.”

“Why did he want him dead?” You inquire. You knew your husband had done some dodgy things, especially with how strangely he was acting within the last few years as his abuse ran up, but you originally assumed he was cheating or something. Maybe into some other shady things. What on earth could he have done to garner the attention of some murderer kingpin?

“Saw something he shouldn’t have. My guess is Toby - maybe Theo. Both of them suck at covering up their tracks,” Jeff laughs slightly. “Probably saw one of us hiding a body, committing a murder, shit, he could’ve stumbled on some finals when he obviously shouldn’t have done that. Regardless, it got Slender’s attention, and now he’s dead because of it,” Jeff continues as he casts his eyes from you to the flickering flames. “You remember that night he fell asleep in his car in the garage?”

You nod.

“Almost took him out right there.” Jeff’s brows furrow slightly. “Something stopped me and then I saw you. The way he reacted to you asking if he wanted a certain type of potato made me giggle, and then I got a thought.”

“The antifreeze…”

“Yeah, the antifreeze. I’d noticed you were being pushed around for a while, honestly planning on taking you out to give you some rest but,” his eyes flash, “seemed more fun to get you into it too.” He sighs and leans back. “Was it cathartic?”

You find yourself uncomfortably shifting and wanting to answer with ‘no, of course not! I killed someone,’ before realizing that wouldn't be truthful. It was cathartic to put an end to his life. It was cathartic to finally bring justice for yourself in a way that no prison system would allow. “It… It was.” You admit, shyly and quietly like confessing to a bad secret.

“Feels nice to admit it, right?” He smiles.

“It does.”

“Now, imagine doing that to other pieces of shit,” he says as he sits up again. “Imagine being able to do that to every monster that’s ever hurt anyone just like you/”

You close your eyes and feel the red hot rage tingle your fingertips. Being able to unload on your dead husband was more than pleasing - in fact, it was nice, and dare you say, fun. The thought of being able to do that to other people who hurt others like that, while a far off possibility now as you were still frail, was still a possibility nonetheless.

“I mean, where else do you have to go?” Jeff continues, watching as you toss the thought around in your head. “You’d never get caught. He’d handle it all right now. You’d be free.” Jeff stands up and begins crossing the distance to meet you. His shadow walks alongside him. Dusk hangs in the air. “Or, if this isn’t to your liking, you can join him.”

“What?” You question, eyes flicking up from Jeff’s shoes to his eyes.

“You gotta understand,” he begins as he crouches in front of you. “If you say no and

decide to deal with the fallout like a normal human being, you’ll be caught and most likely killed for it. You’d be at the end of your rope.”

You feel an ocean of emotions swell up inside of you. “And if I… What would you even have me do if I followed you?”

“I’ll take you to meet him, and we’ll see what happens next. He’ll cover for you. You won’t ever have to see this place ever again.”

The sun begins to peek over the horizon. The fire is dying down. You can hear birds chirping in the early morning sky as fluffy clouds bid good morning to the dimming stars in the sky.

“Let’s get outta here, Bird.” Jeff stands up, holding out his hand.

You take in a deep breath, hand hovering over his. You thought of your husband, your life and everything that had ever happened to lead up to this moment. You’d gone this far, and there was clearly no going back. Another deep breath in and you pressed your hand down to his.

Jeff’s smile bloomed once again.

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