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mr-wrestlemania · 3 months ago

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Living Legends(Monster Au)

"Shawn Michaels had a boyhood dream of carving his name into wrestling history and live forever in the same vein as other champions. Except for one problem, He already will live forever as an immortal energy vampire. Personal issues only grow as he discovers he is far from the only one posing as a human.

Will he succumb to his hunger or will he come out on top?"

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58924921/chapters/150201388

Main pairings: Shawn Michaels/Marty Jenetty(Implied), Shawn Michaels/Bret Hart

Chapter One: First Steps

(Content Warning: The Intro scene depicts a vague scene of an overdose caused by an unspecified substance. While not graphic in detail, desecration is advised. The rest of the chapter is free from such scenes. Nobody dies and they recover just fine.)

The night life was The Rockers’ bread and butter, especially for Shawn Michaels. What vampire wouldn’t love the glamour of the cities turning on their alluring lights for humans to party? Except he wasn’t like the old boring vampires you’d see on the theater screens though, his main source of food were emotions. Traditional Vampires wish they were him, because he could walk in the sun and not burn to a crisp. Food was still off limits sadly, but that was a small price to pay in Shawn’s book.

As a tag team, he found solace in his longtime friend Marty Jenetty. He was far from the same type of monster as Shawn, a satyr, but he had the gusto to stay on the same page as Shawn both in the ring and out. Masking his hooves was tricky but nothing he couldn’t handle. Monsters and wrestling wasn’t new anyway. Werebears were rumored to have made killings posing as actual bears for people to wrestle back in the day. However it still had to be kept secret, for the talent’s safety. At best, the two knew it'd be easier to hide themselves in performances until they knew for sure the rumors were true.

For their run in the WWF, they pretty much passed as humans and no one was the wiser. Shawn would feed off the energy of the crowd but sometimes it just wasn’t enough. Every now and again he needed blood to keep his body in tip top performance.

It was that exact hunger that shattered his world apart.

Admittedly, he was more worried than he gave off but he had to keep Marty calm. He turned on the tv to help keep Marty distracted while he cleaned up the mess. Less evidence left behind the better. Shawn was used to the routine, but it was starting to get old. His eyebrow twitched as he wiped his hands on a random towel on the floor, but Marty was not in the right state to yell at.

The rehearsals were long and wore on the young men’s bodies. Marty took his “medicine” out on the table of their hotel room and Shawn was sipping some cheap wine on one of the beds. If he couldn’t eat, he at least could ingest liquids. Still, he wished the shit he was sipping at the time was better tasting. It sat on his tongue with a bitter after taste. Marty was humming to himself until he nearly fell over.

He glanced over at his partner and raised a brow, “Marty? Go easy on that stuff, you’ll send yourself to the moon.”

Marty’s sigh was shaky, “Y-Yeah.. Thanks. I just needed something to help with the aches.” He tried not to stomp his way to his bed, even though they were on the first floor of the hotel. Poor guy was heavy footed, or heavy hooved. “Oh god. Oh god.. Mikey, I think I’m too high..”

Shawn sat up and quickly moved over to Marty to look him over, “Relax.. relax…Its alright. I’ll wait it out with you okay? I’m not letting you do any more.”

His partner’s presence made it easier to calm down. His warm hands on Marty’s shoulders helped ground him as he took some deep breaths. “Yeah. Yeah… Thank you Mikey. I’m sorry..”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He pat Marty’s back as he helped him lay down.

All Shawn could do was run his hands through his hair and wait it out. The sounds of the soap opera he turned on could hardly distract him from his hunger. Marty said he’d let Shawn feed off him after the show, but the way things were looking he’d have to wait longer. Again. He could last longer than a traditional vampire but his hunger was just as agonizing.

The sound of something heavy falling to the ground snapped Shawn out of his thoughts. He bolted upright and yelled in horror, “MARTY!!”

He scooped Marty up and checked for a pulse. Still beating. Marty’s eyes were very dilated and it sounded like he was trying to talk. Shawn looked at the phone in their room and considered calling for help. No way, they would recognize he wasn’t human right away.

Shawn bit his lip and started to feel around for a vein in Marty’s arm. Once Shawn found his spot, he quickly tied his hair back and sunk his fangs into Marty’s arm. He was on a time crunch to get the substance out of Marty’s blood and he hardly cared what would happen to him. Marty wasn’t going to fade in his arms if he could help it.

Marty’s blood was worse than the cheap wine he had moments prior. Drugs and alcohol could completely change the taste of someone’s blood but Shawn kept up the pace. The dry taste of Marty’s blood made his nose curl. Before he knew it, he could feel his skin crawl and his vision blur.

“Ugh…Shawn…?” Marty’s eyes could finally focus and he looked down to his horror, “Oh god-” He pulled Shawn from his arm and lightly pat Shawn’s face. “Mikey??? Dammit!! Hold on. Just hold on..”

Marty hopped back onto his feet and grabbed a necklace that helped conceal his hooves and horns. Then dove back onto the floor to hoist Shawn onto his back. “You had my back, so I’ve got yours.”

The guilt tightened around Marty’s throat as he ran through the hallway. He nearly collided into Bret Hart but even then he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

“Marty?! The hell you doing?!” Bret called out.

Jim shook his head, “Rockers must have had too much to drink.”

Bret frowned, “No. Something was off. Marty looked scared, Jim.”

Everything was a blur on Shawn’s end beyond hearing Marty sob and his jerky driving. He trusted Marty to make the right decision but the panic in Marty’s voice was more painful to listen to. He closed his eyes and everything around him was drowned out by a slow beeping noise.

“Oh..you’re coming to..” Marty was by Shawn’s bedside, looking Shawn all over, “Please don’t be mad..I didn’t know where else to take you.”

“Marty..? What are you-” Shawn looked around him, “A hospital? Fucks sake-”

Marty tried to quiet Shawn but kept his hand away from Shawn’s mouth, “Hey don’t bite me again! Listen, you have enough blood in you to at least have a heartbeat. So they didn’t get suspicious.”

He slumped back and wiped his face, “I’m so sorry… None of this would have happened if I just dialed it back like you said.. I’m no better than any other Satyr.” Marty shook his head, “But! You’re the one who needs attention right now-”

Shawn looked away from Marty, “You’re right about that. I can’t keep doing this for you.. It could put us both in danger if it doesn’t kill us Marty. I care about you but something has to change man.”

“I know.” Marty sighed and hesitantly reached for Shawn’s hand, “I’m sorry..” Shawn didn’t react. His eyes were cold and very, very tired.

A knock at the door startled Shawn but relaxed when he saw it was just a nurse, “Oh! Mr.Michaels, you’re awake. Good. You have a visitor. He..says he’s your employer?”

“What?! How does Mr.McMahon know already..?” Shawn looked at Marty.

Marty frowned and shied away from Shawn’s eyes, “It’s morning already. We probably missed our wake up call..”

Shawn pulled his hand away slowly from Marty but softened his gaze a little. Then he turned to the nurse, “Can you let him in please?”

“Of course, we’ll do another run on your vitals here soon, so it will have to be brief.” She smiled as she exited the room.

It wasn’t long before the big man himself entered the room. Normally, Mr.McMahon wouldn’t get directly involved, but the bizarre story Bret told him raised far too many questions and he had to get to the bottom of it before any information could get to the public. He closed the door behind him and walked over to Shawn’s bed.

“How are you feeling? I’ve heard quite the story this morning.” He was nearly impossible for Shawn to read but so far from what he could sense, there was some genuine concern for Shawn.

Shawn sighed, “Foggy, but I’m here. What did you hear..?”

Mr.McMahon’s mouth frowned as he paced, “Bret said he saw Marty running like a bat out of hell with you on his back. It was the mention of blood around your mouth that raised more than a few flags. I can get you help, but be straight with me dammit.” He stopped and looked at both of them, "What the hell happened???”

Marty looked at Shawn with fear, silently pleading with him not to tell McMahon but Shawn’s mind was made up. “Sir, Marty nearly overdosed and I had to help him-”

His eyes widened a little and glanced over at the heart monitor. It was a bit slower than it should’ve been.. Mr.McMahon then turned to Shawn and walked over.

“I know it sounds crazy but he’s telling the truth!-”

“Quiet dammit!” He silenced Marty, “Open your mouth.”

Shawn blinked, covering his mouth instinctively, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Shawn. If you’re insinuating what I think you are, you’ll have the proof sticking out of your gums.”

No other choice. Shawn lifted his lips with his fingers to show Mr.McMahon his fangs. They were more prominent than usual given his hunger for blood wasn’t satiated. The sight seemed to calm their boss down as he leaned away. Marty was as tight looking as a rubberband on a watermelon but Shawn was trying his best to read what their boss was feeling.

Mr.McMahon rubbed the crease of his brow and nodded to himself, “A vampire?”

Shawn frowned, “I’m surprised you believe me sir..”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips, “Son, listen. And listen very very carefully. Both of you. You are not the first to be employed by my family, nor will you be the last. The only way for this-” He gestured to Marty and Shawn, “-To function in the federation is with some honesty. I understand why you kept it secret but dammit it nearly killed you! Both of you!!”

Mr.McMahon turned to Marty, “You’re taking a break. I don’t care what you do but you are not going on TV until Shawn is better. Are we clear?”

“Yes sir.” Marty shrunk in his chair.

Finally, he looked at Shawn, “As for you, we’ll take care of your treatment this time . When you return, you are going to say you were on medical leave. We’ll discuss the paperwork later. No more lies you hear me? Not about this kind of shit. I expect you to learn from this.”

“Understood. Thank you- I’m just..a bit surprised. I thought it was just stories that..people like me in wrestling was-”

“-Fake? Bah. No. It never was. We had to make it seem like it was to protect our talent. It was one of the only accessible fields of work for some. We can discuss that later. Until then, both of you stay out of trouble, are we clear?”

“Yes sir.” Both of the younger men nodded.

Their boss, surprisingly, was a man of his word. Shawn had a detox treatment involving blood transfusions while Marty was sent out to rehab. They’d on the phone for a few hours every other day to check on one another but it was far from boring. For Shawn at least.

“I’ll be honest. It feels pretty boring here.. I may have gotten in trouble yesterday for making my own fun.” Marty chuckled.

Shawn held the landline to his face as he laid out on his bed, “Marty, you gotta show the staff some mercy. Just a little. It can’t be that bad.”

“It’s super religious for some reason. Maybe this is a punishment..” He sighed heavily on the phone, “Just one more week.. How are you holding up?”

“My system is completely clean according to my test a few hours ago. Which means I should be clear to travel again. I just gotta see Vince tomorrow. Nothing to get too excited about, just to fill him in on me being an emotional vampire.”

“Oh. Good. Don’t have too much fun without me okay..?” Marty’s voice shook a little, “I gotta go. My head is killing me. I’ll check back in soon.”

“Sure. Bye.” Shawn hung the phone up and grunted. It was obvious Marty was hurt by Shawn planning to go to the WWF before he would complete his program. It only aggravated Shawn because he knew Marty needed support, but so did he dammit.

He shot off the bed and slid on a jacket with a smirk. If he couldn’t get the energy of the crowd, then his next best options would be the local bars. After all, he was far worse to deal with when he was hungry. He just had to hold out for Marty a bit longer..

“Alright, so I’ll just review this so I’m on the same page. You only occasionally need blood, that right?” McMahon looked up from the papers Shawn gave him.

Shawn nodded as he rubbed his eyes, “Yeah. Think of it like an oil change in a car I guess.” He chuckled softly, “I mostly just rely on the emotions of other people.”

“Explains why your fangs seem to retract.” Mr.McMahon chuckled, “No offense. You’re still an incredible talent out there and these hardly seem like limitations for you.” He sat the papers aside and leaned on his desk, “Have you ever considered a singles run?”

“A-A singles run?” Shawn sat up in his chair, “I mean, sure I have. It's been a dream of mine to be a solo champion just like the others.” He blushed nervously but kept his composure.

“No tag team lasts forever and you could have some potential out there. Try to mix things up a little when Marty returns. I want to see how you can work that crowd up with that..energy of yours. Just don’t make it too obvious that you out yourself. Do we have an understanding?”

The idea of leaving Marty made Shawn hesitate, but in front of him was a chance he might never see again. Immortal lives are full of regrets sure, but this was one he didn’t want to keep him up at night. He smiled and nodded, “Of course, I won’t let you down.”

“Good man. While you’re here, you might as well get retrained on the locker room etiquette. It’s a little different now that you’ll see everyone for what they really are. They’re just doing some rehearsals. If you brought your gear you might as well make use of that.”

Shawn knew an indirect way to shoo someone away when he saw one. He nodded and exited the office with a bit more pep in his step. He did need to work out a little anyway, so it wouldn’t have hurt him to use the facilities. Though he wondered just how *different* the locker room would feel now that he knew other monsters were in there with him. Did they know what he was too?

“I’m getting too into my head again, fuck.” Shawn took a breath and walked towards the makeshift gym, “Better just change and get some work done..” He thought to himself as he made his way to the locker room.

For once, he tried not to get noticed and quickly slipped into one of the stalls to change. Just then he could hear two men walk into the locker room.

“I’m telling you, we got this in the bag Bret. We won’t have to do tag much longer since The Rockers will be coming back soon.” Jim Neidhart sauntered over to a bench to put on his boots.

“They are?” Bret Hart, there was no doubt about it if Shawn just went by his voice. “That’s good to hear. Couldn’t even find out what hospital Shawn was at so I have no idea how he’s doing.” He sighed.

Jim snickered, “I hear someone saw him in the building.”

Shawn and Bret were friendly with each other given the Harts and the Rockers got to wrestle a few times. Shawn beamed at the idea of someone like Bret worrying over a fresh wrestler like him. Bret was the locker room leader, a multi generational superstar and Shawn was still carving his name into the books.

He fixed his hair and quickly slipped his workout clothes on. Then slipped out from the stall with a cat-like smirk. “Aww, my ears are ringing guys.”

Bret perked and chuckled, “Michaels!” He got up, clasped hands with Shawn and gave him a quick hug. “Where the hell have you been? Last I saw you, you had blood on your mouth and Marty had you on his shoulder.”

The mental image made Shawn wince a little. “Ah..Yeaah.. I had to leave to get emergency medical treatment. I'm fine now! Marty got me seen just in time.”

Jim frowned, “Shit. Sorry to hear that. You were medically cleared ‘n everything?”

Shawn nodded proudly, “And Marty should be back in a week. I'll be so glad to get back in the ring. I've been way too restless.”

“I can imagine. From those bruises it looks like the vampires got you huh?” Bret chuckled.

Shawn went a little wide eyed and chuckled nervously, “Huh? Vampires?”

“He means your IV bruises.” Jim pointed to Shawn's inner arm.

“Oh! Yeah. Sorry I thought you meant-” Shawn hesitated. There was no telling if Bret was like him. Far as he could tell, Bret was a normal human.

“You believe in vampires?” Bret raised his brows a little with a smile. He almost seemed amused.

“Do you?” Shawn folded his arms.

The blonde nodded and stretched, “I'll be around.”

Bret shrugged, “Dunno. Never met one, so who am I to say?” He glanced up at the clock and looked at Shawn, “Sorry to cut it short, but we have to shoot a promo. We'll see you soon?”

He took a deep breath and leaned against a set of lockers. Bret couldn’t have known..could he? Shawn ran to the nearest mirror and lifted his lip to look at his teeth.

“Fangs are in…okay.” Shawn took another breath, “He couldn’t have known yet..I just have to keep it up until I’m sure..” He decided against working out in the building after all..

That one week felt like too long for Shawn’s liking. Not just because Marty was easy access to blood and energy but everything felt far too quiet. He hated being alone, everything felt so loud without Marty there to drown it all out. When he saw the familiar face of his friend, he practically floated in the air as he ran over.

Marty beamed and nearly fell over from Shawn hugging him. “Did you wait on me this whole time??” He laughed, “It wasn’t too boring without me was it?”

Shawn sighed in relief and shook his head, “No. Just too quiet. Way too quiet. I hardly knew what to do with myself honestly.” Not like he had a posse of friends in the federation to call upon.

Usually he’d be amused at Marty’s double meanings but it only told Shawn Marty didn’t learn much while he was away. He had hoped it was just him being paranoid, or things were going to get very messy.

The brunette’s smile was warm and he linked arms with Shawn as they walked. “Don’t worry about that, The Rockers are back in town! I just gotta drop my stuff off and we can head on out.”

“You sure?” Shawn frowned, “You just had your ass planted in a car for 4 hours. Don’t you think you need to get something in you? I'm just guessing because I dunno if our hunger is the same.”

“I’m already good! Just seeing you brought that adrenaline pumping through my veins.” Marty laughed and walked with a pep in his step.

Shawn put his hands in his pockets and shrugged, “I’ll let you know..”

“You’ll adjust to having me around again, keep that chin up! Or do you need a hit before we head out?” Marty paused just before stepping out of the hotel room. The way he looked at Shawn definitely didn't put him in the mood.

Shawn’s nerves only got worse as they started to head to the locker room. The hunger dragged it’s claws from the sides of his head, all the way to the bottoms of his heels. Everyone moved around them, some said hi and were happy the rockers were back but it all felt like a blur for Shawn. It was hell for his senses and body to perceive everything going on around him, not to mention Marty trying to talk to him at the same time.

Just when Shawn didn’t think it could get worse, it felt like he ran right into a wall. Only it was The Undertaker putting his gear on. His once empty eyes focused on Shawn and bent down.

“Are you okay…?” His low voice was quiet enough for Shawn to hear.

“Oh-yeah.. I’m so sorry.” Shawn quickly brushed himself nervously, “I’m uh-”

Undertaker blinked slowly, “You look like you’re starving.” The way he looked at Shawn was as if he was staring right through him. Yet there wasn't any threatening aura about him.

He could feel the blood drain from his face and Shawn moved his hair around nervously, “Haha..I..Do you know what I am..?”

The dead man nodded but kept a finger to his lips. “That is your business Michaels. Take care of yourself.” He muttered as he walked off.

“Hoooly shit..” Marty breathed, “He knew who you were!!” He laughed until he got a good look at Shawn’s face. “Shawn. C’mon you need to sit down..”

Shawn grunted and followed Marty to an empty changing area. He sat down and put his head between his knees in an attempt to get the room to stop spinning.

“Buddy. Have you fed lately..?” Marty sat next to him with a look of concern, “Talk to me.”

He shook his head no.

Marty sighed with a smile as he gently lifted up Shawn’s head, “Take anything you need. We have time. I’ve missed you y’know.”

His hair stood up at Marty’s gentle touch, it felt like he didn’t deserve it. Marty’s fingers gently rubbed Shawn’s cheek and leaned closer to Shawn’s face.

A quiet sigh escaped from Shawn’s lips and he finally caved into his urges. For a brief moment their lips connected as Shawn’s skin screamed in relief. He could feel everything Marty was feeling in that moment.

Relief. Yearning. God the Adrenaline in Marty’s body..

When their lips separated, a glowing aura left Marty’s mouth and flowed into Shawn’s. The blonde man breathed it in as his blue eyes became more vibrant. He held Marty’s face gently until he was satisfied.

His eyes were slightly dilated but he felt incredible. Like everything was right again. “Thanks Marty.” Shawn whispered.

“Thank you for not sucking me dry.” Marty chuckled softly. “Feel better?”

“Like I could fight god.”

“That’s what I wanna hear.” Marty shot onto his feat and beamed. “Let’s shoot that promo. Then they’re gonna make us rehearse.. I can’t wait to get out there.”

Shawn smirked to himself, “Neither can I.” They walked back through the locker room with more swagger in their step.

Bret glanced up from lacing his boots and raised a brow at Shawn’s appearance. He looked put together but what was with his eyes? “You feeling better already?”

Shawn stopped and smiled at Bret, “Oh yeah. I’ll be able to perform tonight. Just you wait.”

Jim laughed, “Good to hear. We’ll meet you two out there in a bit then!”

Something didn’t sit well in Bret’s gut, so he walked back where Marty and Shawn were just sitting. There didn’t appear to be anything left behind like powders or a skunky odor.

“The hell did they do back here..? I hope its not drugs..” Bret shook his head as he rejoined Jim.

The promo was just to hype up their match and it went off without a hitch. Shawn managed to keep up until it was finally showtime. The Rockers made their way to the ring, smiling at the fans pop to their return. Shawn tossed around his hair and showed off a bit more than he usually did. He particularly enjoyed the sight of some female fans in the front row eying him.

Marty pat his back as The Hart’s entrance music hit. Shawn heard the pop for Bret and Jim and a bit of envy flickered through him. He shook it off as he watched Jim take the side and Bret stroll into the center ring. Marty took his spot and hooted for Shawn. Shawn took another deep breath and had a smug smirk on his face. It looked almost foreign on the usually happy-go-lucky rocker.

“Where was this energy during rehearsals?” Bret muttered.

Shawn stuck his tongue out a little, “I’m just excited.”

The bell rung and the two immediately jumped to grapple each other. Bret threw Shawn into the ropes to clothesline him. Shawn sold the shot and fell right onto his back. While Shawn tried to recover, Bret climbed onto the nearest turnbuckle and readied himself to jump off. He moved his hair out of his face and yelled as Bret landed right on him. Thankfully Shawn was positioned just right so Bret wouldn’t bump the ground too badly.

Both Jim and Marty were reaching out towards their tag partners, desperate to let Bret and Shawn get a breather.

Shawn started to crawl towards Marty’s corner but Bret tried to latch onto Shawn’s legs. The blonde kicked Bret in the ear and leaped forward to make the tag for Marty. Marty moved Shawn into the corner and went right to work to stop Bret from tagging Jim.

The boss’s words rung in Shawn’s mind, “Try to mix things up a little when Marty returns. I want to see how you can work that crowd up with that..energy of yours.” He glanced at the women behind him and jerked his head upwards to acknowledge them. The girls could hardly believe Shawn noticed them and their smiles only grew. The smell of their admiration for him was too enticing, almost like freshly baked desserts seducing his sweet tooth. Instead of focusing on the match, he jumped off the ring and leaned on the rail.

“Why aren’t you two sights for my sore eyes? What are ladies like you doing at a place like this? Enjoying the show?”

One practically swooned in his presence, “Oh yes. Shouldn’t you be up there though..?”

Shawn chuckled and waved his hand nonchalantly, “Marty’s talented, he’ll be just fine.”

Jim tagged Bret in and Bret looked on at Shawn in confusion. “Marty? What the hell is Shawn doing??”

Marty was held up by Bret and Marty yelled out to Shawn, “Shawn!!!”

By the time Shawn whipped around, Bret was already preparing to put him into the sharpshooter. Shawn took that as his cue to jump back onto the ring. “Marty!!”

It was too late. Marty started tapping as his body was giving out. It was the planned ending but it was supposed to be just a little longer. Mr.McMahon seemed pleased at the announcer table and nodded at Shawn.

Bret looked at Shawn and wanted to knock some sense into him, but Jim grabbed his arm.

“Lets go.Let’s go. Before you lose it.” Jim whispered as their theme hit.

Marty got onto his feet and glared at Shawn, ‘What the hell was that?!”

Shawn frowned, “I’m sorry I got distracted!”

“Clearly!” Marty shoved Shawn a little, “You’re making us look bad at our comeback!!”

The Rockers argued their way backstage but Marty was surprised management wasn’t as furious as he was. That was until Bret stomped his way to Shawn.

“Did you just suddenly forget all that rehearsing?! We were supposed to wrestle for a few more minutes!!” Bret practically snarled.

Shawn rolled his eyes, “You got your win in the end didn’t you? Or did you want to throw me around for a bit longer?” He teased.

Bret pointed a finger at Shawn, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you but you better knock it off. Unless you forgot to tell us there was something new added to the match. The boss seemed way too happy with you.”

Marty raised his brows and looked at Shawn, “Did you forget to tell me about something Shawn???”

He tried backing away until Bret grabbed hold of Shawn’s singlet. Shawn grew fearful until he looked down at Bret’s hand. Wrapped around the straps of his singlet were..claws?

Bret’s eyes widened as he got a much better look at Shawn’s eyes. They were vibrantly blue with slit pupils..?

The anger on both of the men’s face instantly faded and was replaced with quiet shock. Bret let go of Shawn’s singlet and held his hands close to his chest. “Shit.. We’ll talk about this later. I’ve got to go..” Bret grabbed his stuff and started to rush out.

“Bret!!! Hold on!! I can help!” Jim shook his head at Shawn, then ran off to catch up with Bret.

Marty looked Shawn over, “Are you okay?! Did he do something to you?”

“No.” Shawn licked his lips and swallowed, “No.. I-I’m fine. I don’t know what happened back there.. But I think Bret’s like us.”

#shawn michaels #hbk #wwe #wwf #bret hart #90s wrestling #80s wrestling #wrestling #wrestling fanfiction #bret hart wwe #martey jenetty #hartbreak #jim neidhart #undertaker #more characters will be added and blurbs will be written as to what they are #living legends fic tag

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natelia-aldelliz · 2 years ago

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I’ve gotten to the point that I don’t really have anything to talk about for the werewolf 141 and cat soap au but still obsessed with it so you just get angst

Soap tearing up whenever Gaz refers to him as his brother. Happiest grin whenever Laswell call him her kit (I’m sticking with the ‘Laswell is a werecat’ thing now, you’re trapped). Soap holding back sobs whenever Price calls him his son, and part of his pack. Soap blushing super hard whenever Ghost or Roach say anything nice to him. Just Soap experiencing true and unconditional love for the first time, where he doesn’t need to prove himself to be part of the family

Enjoy <3

That's not angst, that's hurt/comfort and I love it!! ❤️

Gaz just casually dropping it more and more, bc he noticed how happy that made Soap, and also bc he only has sisters that love to get on his nerves (as they should) and he's trying to get himself a nice little brother.

Now I'm imagining both of them transformed, Dish on his back trying to get Laswell to play with him by batting at her face like the kittens do with their moms, while she's just grooming him like a baby. (Nah Laswell being a werecat is perfect, I'm very happy to be stuck with that lmao, I just can't decide how big she'd be, like in my head werecats were more on par with BIG cats, like panthers, but I don't know if I should make her a bigger panthera or a panther-sized housecat 🤔 anyway, the old people are the holy trinity of werepeople, Price is a werewolf, Laswell is a werecat, and Nik is a werebear)

He probably has to be constantly reminded for a while in the beginning, bc he's used to people saying they love him but only to want things in return, and not unconditionally (like his family) so he doesn't really trust that he's actually in the pack for real. And Price makes a point to call him son as often as he can to try and replace his parents bc they don't deserve him.

Ghost and Roach are just so in love, sometimes he breaks their heart with how he reacts to the little things like affection and praises, but he's getting exposure therapy and he's getting better every day! He feels way better about showing his adhd too, bc before he did his best to keep it reigned in because he constantly got told he was too much for people to actually love, but they've told him and showed him that it wasn't true.

#werewolf 141 & cat soap au

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thybreadmolds · 2 months ago

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Me trying to figure out what to make Price and Gaz for my monster/folklore au…

I have Oni Ghost, Werewolf Soap, might make Gaz a Nāga???? Idfk for Price…. I want to be original! (EVERYONE MAKES HIMS A DRAGON.)

I could make him a Werebear? Minotaur? Idk X0|

EDIT (1):

I put a poll up for some of my irls to decide on. So the hand of fate is left to them.

EDIT (2):

Werebear Price won. Rubs hands together like a fly. Time to feed the wolves.

#thybreadmolds #alternative universe #au #call of duty #rant post

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the-californicationist · 18 days ago

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Ursa Major: Ch. 01

In honor of WIP Wednesday, I thought I’d share Chapter One of my 100k+ word WIP on Tumblr! It’s your responsibility to check AO3 for tags. Thanks for taking a look ✌️🩷

You stood, transfixed, as you saw two bull elk, locked at their antlers, fighting for territory. The wide nares of their snouts were flared and desperate for air, gasping for a breath that they would never take. The taxidermied animals were perched, caught in a perpetual battle above the baggage claim carousel of Whitehorse International Airport. Their big, furry bodies were poorly reflected in the shining aluminum of the bag ramp, scuffed and scratched from years of loose luggage rattling over its gleaming slats. They looked as if they were poised over some frozen lake, their forms distorted in the gray ice, faces blurred so that the battle was even more gruesome than it seemed, every detail between them hidden by the frozen sheets.

You peered down at your phone, checking through your emails once again. Your package of equipment had arrived at your client’s office, and he’d been nice enough to send a confirmation picture. He was standing in front of a mirrored window, and you finally got to put a face to a name.

Mr. John Price, owner of The 141 Logging Company, had great taste in music. His Arctic Monkeys band tee looked well-worn and long-loved, its logo chipping and faded. He was bundled up in his Carhart coat, holding his phone in a gloved hand, and his pants were practically painted with saw dust. You closed the email. You weren’t sure why you kept pulling it up. It wasn’t like his face was going to get any clearer, and you weren’t really sure why you cared.

Okay, let’s be truthful; you knew why you cared. He was absolutely killing your checklist.

Back in the eighth grade, you had lain on your floor with your best friend Martha. Her braided hair with its hot pink bobbles swayed back and forth as she insisted that you make The Checklist. Otherwise, she’d said, how will you know that you’ve found The One? So, with much convincing, you’d finally caved.

He’d definitely have to love animals. You were going to be a vet one day, and that was a non-negotiable. He’d be sort of hairy. Martha had turned her nose up at that, but you’d seen that movie with Hugh Jackman as Wolverine before, and you refused to budge. He’d also love nature. Martha had protested that you double-dipped since you already had animals, but you insisted. You would never live in a city when you were a grown-up. Never.

And he’d need to have kind eyes. What color? Martha asked. But, you shrugged and said it didn’t matter. You knew, though, that in your heart of hearts, that you’d know them when you saw them. They’d be eyes that lit up the room when he smiled. When he wasn’t smiling, they’d be soft and patient. They’d look at you while you spoke, and the edges of them would fold together when he laughed.

You turned back to the elk. Their eyes, distant and unseeing, shone like onyx marbles. The two animals stared at each other as they experienced their terrible, static afterlife, forced to face their mortality every morning when the sun came in through the windows of the small airport. You wondered how their skin had been stretched to fit over their hollow sculptures; you wondered how much of them was real and how much was just an illusion of reality. Perhaps there were more things like these two beasts in the space that surrounded you. Just how much of this world was truly a façade?

He’d left you some voice messages, preferring to send memos instead of typing to text. It was nothing personal, just dates for meetings and practical matters. But, you found yourself replaying them, indulgently, listening to his unique, British vowels rumble around in a deep, dark register, reminding you of your neighbor who used to smoke. It was a raspy sort of tone, full of softness despite the gravelly texture. You listened to him speak his address in your headphones. Then, you played it again. The way he said Alaska Highway was particularly delightful. You tried to stop, a part of you policing yourself, finding it odd that you were enjoying the voice of a strange man. But, what was the harm?

If you listen to the voice of Master Logger John Price, but you don’t tell anyone, will anyone ever know? If a tree grows in a forest, and it dies there, and all of its pieces rot away, and no one was there to see it, was it truly real?

These elk had been real, you were certain of that. Their hooves had crunched through dry grass and fresh snow. Their antlers had shed and grown back again. Perhaps they had even battled when they were alive, their blood pumping through their huge hearts, stirring their muscles and making them whistle their war cries into the frigid mornings.

That was the thing you liked most about working with animals. They made you feel real. In fact, sometimes they made you feel primal, as if you were with them at the start of all of this.

Before the airports and the electricity and the capitalism there had been quiet, uninterrupted mornings where the biggest news was that one elk had bested the other. You would pick winter berries and watch them posture against each other across the frozen field, unhurried in your work, knowing nothing of time or its passing. Nothing had been obscured then; no bodies were posed carefully for your enjoyment. There was only the animal need to eat and mate and sleep. You reminisced about a life you had never lived.

Just when you thought your backpack might never be delivered, and you too would be frozen here for all eternity, just like these elk, the baggage carousel came alive. All the metal clattered together like the opening tuning of an orchestra. The whining and whirring of the machine spinning awake jolted you back to reality where you waited a little impatiently for your colorful Cotopaxi to come tumbling down the slide.

You checked your phone. The inn you had booked belonged to an old friend of yours, and she had promised to send you the address. You sent her a picture of the elk locked in their ritual.

You: made it to the great white north

She took a few minutes to respond. Your bag was still missing from the chute. You shuffled aside and helped an older gentleman with his insanely heavy case. Then, a soft pop notified you of her reply.

Marie: looking forward to having you here!

She tacked on the address, and you pasted it into your map app. The airport, it seemed, was right next to downtown Whitehorse, but you’d need to take a cab all the way around it via the Alaska highway in order to make the loop. Ten minutes. Short and sweet. You hoped the bed would be serviceable.

It wasn’t like you needed to get comfy. You were here to get in and get out. These logging companies never wanted an eco-specialist to stick around for too long. They could only keep up their angelic act for a short period of time before they went back to ravaging the landscape. People like you would just be in the way of their profits. You wondered if Mr. Price was like the rest of them, or if the kindness you thought you saw was genuine.

You were looking forward to seeing Marie, though. She had been Marie LeBeau back in vet school when you enrolled together in the DMV program at Washington State, but she was married now. You hadn’t updated her contact card, yet. It didn’t really matter. You guessed you’d get to meet the husband on this trip. Apparently, it was his inn, and she just helped him run it. As a small animal vet in a tiny little town, you supposed Marie’s spay and neuter jobs weren’t enough to keep food on the table.

A flash of color popped up in the carousel, and your bag emerged. You hoisted it up by the shoulder strap and marched to the car park. Your work boots made sticky little squeaks against the linoleum floor as you made your way outside. It was warm for the Yukon, even for June, and although there was a chill in the wind, the sun beamed down through the 70 degree weather. By all accounts, it was turning out to be a beautiful day.

Hailing a cab wasn’t too hard when they were all parked there, waiting like fish by a dock, knowing they’d be fed. You picked the first one on the line and showed him the address. Of course, in a small town like this, there were only so many places travelers could go, so he wasn’t too surprised.

The drive was short, and you admired the general splendor of the mountains and the quaint little town as you made your way in. Your driver pulled over, grabbed your bag from the trunk, and patiently waited for you to pull out your cash. He left you his card,

“That way you’ll always have a ride, darlin’.”

“Thanks very much,” you smiled, leaving him a tip.

He returned the smile and drove off, back the way he came. You turned around to face the old inn, feeling the afternoon sun kissing your cheeks and the wind rushing to make them pink. The tips of your hair stung them like needles, biting into your flesh relentlessly. You tugged it back with your scrunchie.

The building looked like it used to be a factory of some kind, and its clay bricks told a story of many years worth of wear and tear. The giant buzzing neon sign out front said WHTHRS. All the vowels were out. You wondered about the odds of that before looking up further at a great stallion, bucking in his bright white neon piping, his hair billowing and yet static, captured in an eternal winnie. His rider was struggling to keep his seat, but his hat was held tightly in his hand, blinking sporadically in the dimming sun.

The inn was situated on the corner of 2nd Avenue and Main Street, so there seemed to be plenty to keep you interested, at least for six or seven days. But, you were eager to get to work. Even in a tiny town like Whitehorse, the bustle of cars and people was a little much. You missed the woods, like a feral cat who had allowed herself to be domesticated, and a part of you still longed to be wild.

“There she is!” You heard Marie’s distinct Southern drawl shout from the doorway to the inn.

You smiled, opening your arms wide for a tight hug, burying your face in her long hair,

“Marie! It’s so good to see you.”

It truly was a relief to be with your friend again. You studied her face. She hadn’t changed a bit even though vet school had been nearly a decade in the past. Her dark hair still had that signature white streak in the front. She’d always blamed it on a birthmark, but it wasn’t until you went on a two week trip down to Costa Rica on a field work assignment that you believed her. It was such an elegant shock of white, it looked like she’d dyed it on purpose.

“How was your flight? Here,” she grabbed your bag, “Give me that. Come in, come in! Logan’s at the bar.”

She popped into the inn, and you followed close behind. Once inside, you took in the mesmerizing transformation of the run-down factory. They had done so much work on the inside, it felt like you had been transported to a different building altogether. The high walls stretched up so far that the golden glow from the lanterns and lamplight couldn’t reach the arched ceiling. The metal I-beams that spanned across the large, open space were imposing; it made you imagine how this place had looked when it had been filled with machines.

To the left of the entrance, Logan’s bar was generously stocked with gleaming glass bottles of liquors and wines as varied as you could imagine. The rich amber liquid of a whiskey bottle swirled around like boiling honey as the bartender poured it out into a waiting glass. The bar was wide and inviting, and the bartop itself was made from one long piece of live edge maple, shiny from sealant, showing off a gorgeous grain.

The bartender, who you assumed was Logan, was scruffy to say the least. He had a bit of a mullet, and his sideburns were serious business. But, he was painfully attractive, and his eyes held within them an animal magnetism. His golden irises didn’t even seem real. When he smiled, your subconscious registered how sharp those bright white teeth of his were, but you smiled back, extending your hand.

“Hey, nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” that sharp smile was back, and his voice slid over you like warm honey, “I’ve heard more about you than I’ve ever heard about anyone, so we can skip this part, if you like.” He laughed good-naturedly, and you could see exactly what Marie liked about him.

“I’ve heard so much about you as well.”

“Make yourself at home. Looks like we’ve got you all set up in the loft.”

You peered up the small wooden staircase toward the loft area, shrouded in darkness due to its height, and you noticed two doors. Logan pointed to them and explained,

“We’re on the left, and you’re on the right. Marie will take you up.”

“You live here?” You turned to Marie in surprise, not realizing their inn was also their home.

“Yeah!” Marie shrugged her shoulders, “It’s easy enough. If we really need a break from the crowd, we’ll stay out in the cabin.”

“Mm,” you raised your eyebrows, teasing her, “Romantic.”

She gave Logan a look that stopped your giggling, surprising you with her candidness,

“You have no idea.”

You followed her up the stairs and deposited your bags in your suite. It had a small bathroom and a kitchenette; everything you would need for your stay. It wasn’t exactly the Ritz, but it would do its duty.

You started to unpack, chatting with Marie and trying to fill in the gaps each other had missed. You’d been on this sort of job three dozen times in the past year, and you were a traveling pro. All your clothes were pretty much the same; wool layers and flannels, waterproof hiking pants and all of your various undergarments. Then, stuffed at the bottom of your pack where he always was: Mr. Claw. Your mom had given him to you, along with some flowers, when you graduated with your DVM, and you didn’t go anywhere without your mini DJUNGELSKOG stuffed bear. You supposed you should feel some sort of shame as an adult woman carrying around an IKEA children’s toy, but you didn’t care. It brought your mom back, just for a moment, and that was all you wanted, sometimes.

After unpacking, you made your way back down to the bar with Marie. You peered over the railing from your high vantage point, admiring the bar’s bustling, homey energy. Then, you spotted him. Your client was talking to Logan. He was much bigger than the barkeep, which you hadn’t really expected from the photo. Aside from his size, he was handsomely made, and just in your taste, too. All of your suspicions about him checking things off of your list were coming true.

He was built with heavy muscles and bone, his posture exuded slick, easy confidence, and his fashion screamed masculinity. His thick, dark hair was cropped short on the sides, and he’d shaved only the chin of his facial hair; it was a unique choice, but it suited him. Even through layers of warm clothes, you could see the outline of mountainous shoulders rolling around in his jacket sleeves. He was also holding a black, full-face helmet by his side, his huge hand tucked into the mask’s hole, clutching it by the plastic jaw. A motorcycle in the Yukon was a brave choice.

Marie’s eyes followed your gaze, and when she realized your fixation, she raised her eyebrows at you,

“Guess you’ll be having fun on this trip, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Your eyes were still watching him. He drank. He talked. You studied it all as if it was your new purpose.

“Aren’t you working on an ecological report for 141 Logging?”

“Yeah,” you finally met her eyes, nodding.

She pointed down the stairs from where you stood in the dark rafters,

“That’s the owner; John Price. C’mon, let me introduce you.”

You wanted to tell her that you knew him already, but that wasn’t quite right. One blurry snapshot and a few replayed voice memos wasn’t truly knowing a person. So, you followed Marie down the stairs, trying to fix your face. You coached yourself to be professional, and as he spotted you, you realized just how hard that was going to be. Those bright blue irises of his hunted you like a hawk, tracking you without moving an inch from the bar, pinning you down handsfree. His eyes were alluringly kind but calculating.

“John,” Marie motioned to you, “Meet your new ecologist… and doctor of veterinary medicine… and professional researcher… and –”

“Hey there, Doc,” he interrupted Marie’s generous introduction, “John.”

His voice was even more decadent in person. People usually wielded your title like a weapon, trying to hurt you with it, or sometimes themselves, but not him. He said it with respect and a hint of amusement. His smile was genuine, if not a little aggressively friendly. You tried to ignore the way his hand slid into yours to shake it, engulfing yours with its immense size, as if his palm could swallow it whole. He lingered on you more than normal. It was as if he was testing you, seeing if you would run from him. You held fast, letting the warmth of his fingers melt into yours, comforting you even though it was the hand of a stranger.

“Nice to meet you in the flesh, John. Looking forward to seeing your land.”

“It’s a little late for a tour, I’m afraid. Thought I’d come down to get you around 0400 tomorrow. Take you to the site with plenty of morning to spare. You said you wanted to lay out your cameras? Got that big shipment up at the office with your name on it.”

He finally released your hand, much to your dismay. How was it that you missed a random man’s touch already? You weren’t usually this easy to please, but (you admitted to yourself with a little shame) it had been quite a while since someone had caught your eye. It was always work. That was what you told yourself. The work won’t hurt you. Do it for the animals. People just cause problems. So, you leaned on your old mantra like a crutch,

“Yeah, they should’ve sent you about a dozen trail cams and the wildlife field kits. If it’s okay with you, I’d just like to check the traffic you’ve got in that area. The report that came in said something about a grizzly hybrid? We’re a little too far south for polars.”

He shrugged, being a little more dismissive than you thought he should have been,

“Just some spooked tourists. Sure it was just a normal grizzly.”

His body language shifted from confidence to a reserved protectiveness, and you could almost taste the tension in the air. You eyed him with suspicion now. You knew that a grolar bear would be a problem for him. They were a protected species, and their discovery on his land would shut down his operation in that sector for good.

“Did they get any footage?” You asked, trying to pry a little further.

“No,” he shrugged and turned away from you a bit, going back to his drink and downing it in one go. Clearly, he was done here. You got the sense he was holding back some information from you, but you weren’t concerned. You had a plan.

“Well,” you tread carefully, “Best for you and your bottom dollar if we make damn sure.”

He smiled, but it didn’t spread wide or reach up into his eyes, and that same aggression was back. White, sharp teeth lay all in a row. You’d thought Logan’s grin was wolfish, but John’s was something even more savage.

He was friendly enough, but you needed to remember that he was there to harvest trees and nothing more. These companies were always in it for the profit. Even a logging venture as highly rated on sustainability as his still needed to sell products. You just didn’t want that poor bear to be caught in the crossfire. If he was out there, you’d find him.

“Alright, Doc. See you in the morning, then. Logan,” John reached across the bar to shake Logan’s hand, took one more long look at you, slid on his helmet, and pushed his way through the double doors.

Whatever John Price was hiding, you were looking forward to finding out.

Logan and Marie convinced you to stick around the bar for a couple of drinks, and you watched them dote on each other. There was no mistaking their love. It was as bright as their neon outside, and buzzing with their own unique joy. You weren’t jealous. Jealousy wasn’t the right word. But, just like having curly hair and seeing someone’s bone-straight locks, unstyled and naturally uniform, you knew there were things that other people had that weren’t for you.

You dismissed yourself, slinking up the stairs to lay in their spare bed, and before you slept, you called your mom.

It rang three times, each with its own infinite silence between their chimes, and then, when she picked up the phone, it clattered a bit, getting stuck as she balanced it between her cheek and her shoulder. You had this next part memorized, and your mom's voice came through, loud and clear.

“Hey… uh, hey! It’s Claire. Couldn’t make it to the phone – I know, shocker! Leave me a message. Uh, okay, bye!”

A deafening beep stung your eardrum. You knew it was coming. It always came. But, you sort of liked it now. The pain was familiar, and at least it was something you could feel.

You reached over to the wall, crossing the chilly expanse of your bed, and turned the radiator up a bit. Snuggling down into the sheets, you clutched Mr. Claw to your chest, wishing with all of your heart that he was real and that you could be buried in his fur, warm and very much not alone.

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transgender-anakin-skywalker · 1 year ago

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i made a dnd character. perceive my boy

so basically his deal is that he’s a blind ex-pirate captain, he’s cursed as fuck because he lacks impulse control, and he’s a 128 year old human (don’t even worry about it).

he’s attempting to infiltrate and stop a cult with the help of a tiefling “time witch” sorcerer noble, a lizardfolk druid who journeyed across a desert and an ocean to escape her past, a half orc barbarian (who is now a werebear. again don’t worry about it) trying to rescue her kidnapped daughter, and a human fighter ex naval officer who kills pirates on sight.

more info about him under the cut

personal info

height: 175cm

weight: 170lbs

skin colour: light, ashy grey-brown (like the skin of someone who isn’t entirely alive)

eye colour: milky white

hair colour: black with grey streaks

personality traits

Extremely loyal to people he deems as his crew, especially when he perceives himself in a leadership role to them.

You are very direct and usually speak your mind without worrying about the feelings of other people.

ideals

Ambition. Everyone wants things, I am just better than most at getting them.

bonds

Being hunted by dead crew

Connected to the cursed ship

flaws

You are very impulsive and often act before thinking through the consequences.

backstory

one of the older children born to a large family. grew up near the docks on the edge of the city. had poor eyesight from a young age. his parents were merchants who had many dealings with the thieves guild due to their success with smuggling. isaac often worked with the smuggling side of the family business, giving him good connections to the thieves guild and skills with handling a ship and managing a crew. as an older teen he left his family and joined a new ship, The Umbra. he took over from the captain after killing the creature that had killed the captain and possessed their body. the umbra spent the next 9 years attacking military ships, earning isaac a large price on his head, and hunting for legends. after 9 years the umbra found their greatest legend, the ghost ship known as the pandora, and it killed the whole crew except isaac, trapping everyone’s souls aboard. isaac lost what remained of his sight to the darkness, and was cursed to sail the ghost ship and his undead crew through the night, searching for the escaped spirit of hope, and to kill the undead crew of the pandora every morning. after 100 years, isaac came close enough to capturing hope that it gave some of himself to him, giving him the resolve to be free he lost when the pandora took him. he escaped and found his way back to the city he was raised in, finding it completely unrecognisable 100 years later.

ghost ship lore

a ghost ship that sails the waters of the Archon Knout sea, both on the surface and in the underdark. any who tries to take the helm will replace the cursed captain, and their companions will be added to the pandora’s undead crew. the pandora sails forever lead by their lantern wielding captain, on an endless mission to recapture hope. during the night it sails the seas, its image shimmering under the moonlight. during the day it sails through the underdark as the undead crew attempts to kill their trapped captain. each night the felled crew rises again, desperate to complete their mission.

#dnd #dnd character #dnd charcter art #dnd5e #dnd oc #dnd ocs #dnd oc art #dnd 5e character #also like. ignore the subrace lol we picked it at random because human subraces give no mechanical changes #and our characters aren’t from faerûn (we have a homebrew world) so the regions just don’t like up #**line up #anyway yeah here’s the boy #i have plans for what feats he’s gonna take #(athlete level 4 and tough level 8. level 10 is undecided)#magnus posts #magnus art #also my dm is a hot guy (he is my boyfriend)

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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

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Monster!Price and his pet, who is always cold and because of that clings to him, since he is warm?

Price is a living oven even in human au, but with werebear Price...you have actually stopped wearing clothes to bed because you would just get into your husband's/master embrace and wearing any layers to bed would be a very dumb way to die. Just imagine getting up into your nest - Price finally allowed you to have one on the bed and not on the floor(mainly because Soap was on a long mission and wouldn't tear apart any sheets while breeding you again) and just snuggling with him...he would massage your breasts and hips, every sore spot in your body falling to his firm hands and gentle caresses. He isn't too touchy with you usually, his self-control not allowing him to distract himself with your fine body, no matter how much he just wants to fall into your arms. But, when you're shivering from cold and just beg for him to let you stay on his lap while he is doing the reports, or jump onto his back as he trains the recruits(he'd take you into his arms, but then he won't be able to shoot and Gaz needs a good example of multi-tasking). You're basically purring from the heat radiating from his body, and everyone just knows that this is a special privilege reserved solely for his mate. You're pregnant and sensitive, you can't survive cold temperatures! Price is usually very conscious of his bear form, doesn't want to crush you under him - you'd have to beg him to just turn into bear and warm you up even more, so you could rub your face in his fur and enjoy the low rumbling coming from his chest.

#cod #price x reader #captain price x reader #monster!price

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mistresskayla-blog1 · 8 months ago

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For Ursa's Benefit

Characters: Adam Price x OC Callisto

Lyn's Writing Event 2024 - Day 10 Week 2

May 10th: Week 2: Ursa Major (great bear) “Callisto” constellation

Characters: Adam Price x OC Callisto (Fem werebear)

Fandom: Richard Armitage – Adam Price - The Stranger

The character of Adam Price was created by Harlan Coben, and adapted for television by Danny Brocklehurst

OC Created by Kayla B Crowe – copyright protected

Location: A dense woods in the North of England (Bleaklow – Peak District – West of Sheffield)

Warnings: werebear x known character, grief, romance, potential smut, survival tests, bisexual,

After his wife’s tragic death, Adam Price’s friends and family suggest he go on a personal retreat trip to renew himself. Both the boys were off to college, and he had mourned for 3 years now. It was time to get a life back, one where he could feel joy again. Adam packed up for the 3 days hike that the brochure had suggested. Parked in the designated parking area, and started off on the intended trail, following the geo tags his phone gave him. It felt like checkpoints in a game, and he shuddered to be thinking like his kids, then warmly to be thinking about the men they are becoming. About an hour into the hike; he heard some wood being chopped very aggressively, and smoke rose from a small wood cabin about 50 feet ahead of him on a ridge. He smiled, desperately needing some company, and a break.

As Adam got closer he saw the lone figure chopping some wood. She, which surprised him a bit was burly, tall, maybe 5’11", light brown hair, shorter, cut in a stylized mohawk across her crown, and landing in a braid down her back, that curved across her muscular shoulder. Her skin was a bit dirty, warmed by the sun, but olive and it glowed in the cascading sunlight that broke through the trees. She had some ink on her upper right arm, in scrolling lettering it read, “Stay strong”. Her tank top of grey jersey knit stretched against her pert bosom, and her thick thighs hugged the legs of her navy green cargo pants. The pockets gaping open on the sides, from use. She heaved the axe over her head and swung down again, splitting the large log in three pieces, some shavings skittering as her roar of triumph rung through the forest.

Adam’s mouth gaped a second, then he swallowed and walked a bit closer to her, before he spoke. She saw him right away, and swung the axes down again, after repositioning the larger chunk of the three, “Yeah? What can I do for you?” her voice was feminine but throaty, a mixture of high altitude and wood dust inhalation. As Adam answered, she swung down again grunting.

“Hi, I’m Adam”, paused with a smile, “I am on this hiking expedition, (he moved to show her his phone) and I was wondering if you knew about the summit part of this trail, also do you have a bathroom?”

She stopped and wiped her brow, sort of squinting at his phone, “Yeah sure, come on in, I think I know that trail your talking about”. She started to trudge toward the house and Adam diligently followed, marking his first few steps with a “thank you”.

She shouldered her way into the cabin door, leaving it ajar as Adam entered behind her. He Set his rucksack down on the porch and walked in, feeling grateful to have a moment with the bag off. She washed off her hands, and turned as he stopped just inside the door, having to duck a bit to clear it. “The bathroom is over there” she said pointing towards an inward door. Adam nodded and went straight to it. In the shadowed light of the cabin, he could see her eyes, and smell her scent, a heady mixture of pine, grass and earth. It was in a word, intoxicating.

Adam used the facilities, and washed his hands, drying them on a towel hanging near the toilet. Everything seemed to have a place, and it was “homey” but not, hmm.. Adam thought. There was something, different about this place, he just couldn’t figure it out, yet.

Adam came back out of the bathroom, shutting off the light. She looked up from her glass of ale, and visibly sniffed at him, “So how long is the hike?” She asked.

“oh, sorry, sorry. I meant to ask, what is your name?” Adam put his hand out in introduction again,

She readjusted her position on the bench seat of the kitchen table, and went to shake his hand, “I’m Callisto”, she said, taking a tug on the bottle of ale, she tipped one to him, “You want one?”

Adam shook his head, “No, thanks I’m fine. So, you live up here? Year round?”

Callisto looked at him, amused, “Yeah. I do. What of it?”

Adam was captivated, she was gritty and gorgeous and peculiar, “Oh, no reason, jus curiosity I guess, thanks for the use of your, um, bathroom. So as I was saying there is this trail, (he pulled out his phone again)”.

Callisto looked at the screen and grinned, her bare teeth has an eerie glow of white against her tattooed neck and dark eyes, “Yeah, that’s the Peak trail to Bleaklow, I mean, if your interested I could take you up myself”. Her voice warmed a bit, looking at him now.

Adam, looked at his phone to reset his mind, “Um, sure, if its not too much trouble. A guide would be great. I have to tent up here, (he pointed at a checkpoint on his map) by tonight, so any help would be appreciated”.

Callisto nodded, “Yeah I can get you there before night fall. Its nearing a new moon tonight, so you’ll have a chance to see the stars”. She winked at him, and Adam nearly blushed.

He nervously laughed, “Great. Well, um, I should go check my gear again, when did you want to start out?”

Callisto looked at an army style multi watch on her right wrist, “We should head out in about 20 minutes”. Adam looked at his own watch, “Ok, sure. I’ll have snack then and rehydrate too”. Callisto finished her ale and set it down, “You do that” she chuckled mildly and stood up from the bench, moving her thighs across the bench and sweeping a leg up to cross back to the bins by the stove. A clatter of glass on glass rung through the cabin. Adam stood up and walked out the front door, still agape from their entering.

Callisto wiped her face and back of her neck off with the tap water cold. She ran her fingers through the top of her mohawk and sighed. He was a nice piece, she thought. Tall, and handsome, and, she laughed, fit. He looked like he could take her on, if she let him. A wry smile crossed her lips, “or maybe I’ll take him on”, she mused to herself. Callisto moved to the back room where her bed and wardrobe trunk were and gathered a small rucksack, throwing in some rope, a trail knife, some water bottles, and a first aid kit. She grabbed a hoodie over the footboard of her wood frame bed and shoved it into the rucksack as well.

Callisto returned to the main room of the cabin and grabbed a stick of salmon jerky off the counter, tearing into it with vigor, her large fangs exposed as she masticated the dried meat and scales. Adam was grumbling on the porch, she could hear him. Callisto walked to the entrance and stood in the doorway watching him repack his own rucksack.

“Trouble, dear?” her endearment playful and surreptitious.

Adam looked up, and smiled immediately, seeing her from this angle, at his knees, “No, I just swear I packed this other set of spikes, but I guess I didn’t. I’ll just have to hope the trail doesn’t get too loose footed higher up” he chuckled.

“It won’t. I know these trails pretty well. I’ll take you up to where you need to make camp”.

Adam, “And what about you? You get back to the cabin before dark?” his look of genuine concern was gentlemanly, Callisto noted that.

She scoffed, “I live here, remember, I can get back home by scent alone”, she snorted and tipped her nose up to him, crossing her arms against her chest.

Adam stood then, showing his true height and Callisto actually watched him this time as he rose. Adam turned and put the sack onto his back, “Well we’d best be off then, ya?”

Callisto put her sack on her own back, and shut her door, “yeah let’s get started”.

---

(dear readers I have much more I want to post for these two, but alas I had a double today and could not finish the last act of chapter 1. So more parts to come, hopefully after the weekend).

Lyn's Writing Event 2024

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