#forest-writes

[lostinforestbound]

Could I request NSFW headcanons for Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to their non-tiefling gender neutral s/o asking if they can worship his body & kiss everywhere especially his infernal features? They want to show him how much they love everything including his horns, ridges, and tail!

You got it! I had to think about these quite a bit, so I hope these turned out as well as I hoped! Apologies for the wait! And feel free to add other ideas too!

The Tiefling Bachelor's Receiving Body Worship

NSFW Under Cut, Minors DNI

Dammon

I would say Dammon is the most secure and comfortable with himself overall, compared to the other two tieflings on this list. Despite snide comments once in while, he's pretty proud of his infernal traits.

When his non-tiefling partner asks if they could explore his traits in the midst of a heated make-out, he doesn't think twice about it and takes off his shirt.

Now, his tail isn't sensitive, some parts of it are even numb due to forge related accidents. His horns aren't particularly sensitive either.

But trace the ridges on his chest and sides, he's a goner. His partner using their nails to tease him is a good way to get him to keen in his throat.

He loves having his partner's hands on him always, he's a very touchy person overall, but this is MUCH different.

This kind of touch really gets him going, especially since he's not used to his ridges getting so much attention.

Pin him against the wall! Kiss, nibble, and lick those ridges and damn, if you want Dammon to get loud, this is the way to do it. He lets his partner have control as much as he can, but the urge to grab them is becoming too much. Especially with praises spilling from their lips.

Eventually, it's too much for him to handle and he switches their positions to take them against the wall. He doesn't last long at all, coming within a minute.

He'll be apologetic and promises to be more patient next time, but he couldn't help it.

"...Could we try that again, soon?"

Rolan

Out of all three Tiefling's, Rolan's infernal traits are the most sensitive. He hates that fact a lot. Why do you think he wears layers under his wizard clothes?

He's very reluctant when his partner brings it up for the first time, and seeing that nervous look that's being shielded by a scrunch of his nose, his partner reassures him that he can just think about it.

When he finally settles on at least giving it a try, he lets Tav gently lay him down on the bed to get started.

He did not expect how much he would love it. Kissing along his sternum, rubbing his horns and ears, tugging his tail; gods, he's already hard just from that.

Stroking his tail makes it quiver and coil in the air, wrapping around their arm and tugging for them to do more. If they grab one of his horns and pulls him into a kiss while they keep stroking, he'll whimper into their mouth.

They'll have to be careful, because if they're patient enough Rolan will come completely untouched from tail/horn stimulation alone.

If he ends up doing so, he is so, so embarrassed. He's worried he just ruined the night by not lasting long. Though he calms down if his partner mentions it was extremely hot.

If Rolan allows it, they'll do it over and over to overstimulate him, and the prettiest sounds come out of his mouth. They'll stop when it becomes painful for him.

He still wants to satisfy his partner. Even if they say that they're more than happy just by watching him fall apart, he'll make it up to them by shoving his face in between their legs, knowing his mouth is good at things other than talking.

Zevlor

When they bring it up to him, he instantly looks like a fish out of water.

He's not inexperienced by any means, he's had more than a few flings/partners in the past. But body worship? For him?? That's new. Are they sure?

With lots of reassurance from his non-infernal partner, he decides to give it a shot, unsure what to expect. He's worshiped their body plenty, but hasn't received some himself before.

While nothing is particularly sensitive, the way his partner looks at all his traits so lovingly and curiously makes him throb in his trousers.

His favorite is his partner straddling his lap with their hands trailing up and down the ridges of his spine. He didn't even realize that part was sensitive until they started to explore the wing impressions on his back.

As they do so, he'll start grinding up into them, nibbling at their neck as he groans at the feeling. Be cautious of grabbing the base of his tail, or it'll be over all too soon, especially when they're kissing his neck at the same time.

The tip of his tail flicks excitedly if they grab both of his horns as they kiss. He finds it as a loving gesture as they thumb the base of them.

When he's panting into their mouth, he'll actually start requesting them to touch certain places. The nape of his neck where the ridges first start to poke out is one of his favorites.

Another place he would love that hasn't been revealed yet is the back of his horn, near the base. Scratch a nail right where the horn meets the skin and he'll start losing it.

After everything is done and they're laying in bed, he'll shyly ask if they could do this again sometime. He ended up loving it.

[khajiithaswitchywares]

Go hiking. Fake your death. Become one with the forest. Elevate to forest god. The simple things.

[mournfulroses]

Mary Oliver, from The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver; "Sleeping In The Forest,"

[lostinforestbound]

I absolutely want to write this! Maybe with Rolan?

I have a new idea for a Baldur's Gate 3 fic.

Apologies if someone has already done this.

Ok, so basically, Tav (or whichever companion you want to center) is stuck in a time loop. Every time they die, they wake back up in the mind flayer pod on the nautiloid. Maybe on the first loop, they don't even make it off the nautiloid. Then, during the next loop, the weakened mind flayer in the crash site gets them. Then, on the third loop, they die during the goblin ambush outside the grove.

Every time they come back, they get farther than they did last time but they still keep failing.

For some extra angst, throw in a few loops where they willingly take their own life to reset after one of their companions dies because of their actions. And if you're really feeling spicy, maybe have the companions start to remember bits and pieces of previous loops.

I also think it would be interesting if Withers had full knowledge of the loops but was forbidden to speak of it to Tav, so instead, he offers advice and acts as a source of comfort for Tav.

[ghostbsuter]

Damian had recently taken to feed the very strange green wispy animal.

The strangest thing of this? Damian was pretty sure, despite the changes in race, it was always the same one.

Dick, who had seen the exchange from his window after sleeping over, got his phone and called beast boy in a panic.

[vintic-girl]

[wolfsnooze]

in which hunter’s possession goes a whole lot worse

[bovineblogger]

do african forest buffalo actually live in forests? i guess i had never thought of bovines as forest creatures.

they sure do babeeeeyyy!!! theyre also like... half the size of the cape buffalo(ive read that theyre the size of a zebra)! ALSO! they have organized voting rings for what direction to wander in! theres lots 2 like about them

images (x) (x)

[echo-stimmingrose]

I have funny but first a quick history lesson

In Ancient Athens they had things called ostracons. Basically every year everyone would carve a name of someone they didn't like into a small stone tablet and then submit it. Then they would look at all of the ostracons and if there were too many of one person then they told that person to get tf out. They had ten days to flee Athens and couldn't come back for ten years.

So now I would like you to imagine Dionysus doing a pseudo version of this at Camp Half-blood every month because we all know he LIVES for the drama. (He's stuck there for a hundred years he might as well have some fun)

He would hand out stone tablets (it was very important to him that the names were carved don't ask why) and every person at camp would write a name.

Whoever had their name written down the most would be sent to live in a cabin in the woods for two weeks. If they survived they would be allowed to return to camp.

Mr. D always makes sure there's a crowd around to witness their walk of shame and he takes a picture of said person every month. He keeps them hung up on a wall in the big house.

[smilebug]

i love @enden-agolor ‘s forest deity fic so much that i decided to draw their first encounter while i catch up on the chapters 🥹

[enden-agolor]

have some stuff and things

[lostinforestbound]

Could I request headcanons for Cal, Rolan, and Zevlor reacting to his non-tiefling gender neutral s/o asking if he could wrap his tail around their waist or leg when they're with him in private?

Aww what a cute idea!! I loved writing this one! This may be a little shorter though due to the nature of the prompt.

Cal, Rolan, and Zevlor Wrapping Their Tails Around Their Non-Tiefling Partners

Cal

This man is already having some trouble keeping his tail to himself. Sometimes it has a mind of its own and is already trying to wrap around his partner.

He's not sure if having his tail around them is okay yet so he settled for his hands. Hands in theirs, on their hip, on their thigh when he wants to tease...gods, he wishes he can use his tail more.

Sometimes he catches the spade of his tail gently tapping against their leg or ankle, and he immediately retracts it with an awkward apology.

He always tries to laugh it all off, but part of him is honestly ready to beg. Is it strange to want this so badly?

When they finally bring it up, he’s both excited and nervous. What if they don’t like it? Would they want him to stop? Is he already too touchy?

He’s relieved when they say they like it, they just prefer it in private. He can do that no problem! He starts wrapping his tail around their ankle or calf first, starting slow.

He works his way up to their thighs and waist, using it to tug them closer. He loves that he gets to use this now, so he takes full advantage.

Rolan

Rolan is the type to keep to himself, but much like his brother, his tail has a mind of its own. He hates it very much, since sometimes it gives away how he feels.

With his partner, he still tends to keep to himself. But his tail still reacts to anything they do or just their presence alone. It’ll stand on attention any time they walk into a room.

He thinks it’s a little pathetic, his lack of control over his tail, but his partner doesn’t seem to mind it.

When his partner asks him if he could be more touchy with his tail, he’s surprised. He’s only ever saw it as the nuisance, but they like it??

Reluctantly, he does so, and it shocks him how much he enjoys it. Being able to touch them in this way is intimate, and it makes him feel closer to them.

His favorite place to wrap around is either waist. It’s a sure way to keep them close, and he likes the way they stroke along the length of it.

He’s still that stubborn wizard we know, but now he’s starting to open up just a little bit more. All hell will break loose as soon as he starts to tease.

Zevlor

Zevlor is experienced, though he doesn’t really use his tail that often. He’s more of a hand holder than a tail holder.

His tail isn’t as reactive as other Tieflings either. He’s a Hellrider, or at least was. He learned how to control the emotions on his face and tail.

It still idly sways about when he’s calm, but it never reaches or grabs for his partner, not even instinctually. He knows his partner notices, but he never saw it as a big deal.

When they ask why, he’s oddly surprised. He didn’t realize they were thinking about it so much, so he explains he’s just not really reactive with his tail.

When they ask if his tail could hold them one night, he’s even more surprised. Was this something they’ve always wanted? Either way, his tail winds around their thigh.

He ends up loving this simple act of intimacy, especially when he finds he can’t use his hands at that moment, like when cooking with them.

He finds himself using his tail much more often, even if it’s to playfully smack them. More than anything though, he’s glad that something so simple makes them happy.

[sicknessinmotion]

THE WOLVES BIT THEIR WAY OUT; ON NATURE

@gnawgag // william cronon // william shakespeare // @gnawgag // jack london // reg saner // sunlightafterdark (instagram)

[shhhsecretsideblog]

No Time To Hide

This was something I wrote for an Imagine You’re Pregnant prompt, original post here. Thought I’d make a side blog and post it here as well cos I really enjoyed writing this and might be tempted to write more birth fics

Eva opened the wooden window of her small cottage, letting the cool autumn air whip through her hair. The smell of woodland and damp grass filled her nostrils as she took a long, calming breath.

Describing herself as a green witch, Eva loved her little cottage hidden away from everyone deep within the rich forest. Coven life was never something that appealed to her; the idea of being constantly surrounded by other witches, their opinions and their magic, was torture for Eva. She much preferred her own company, free to live her life the way she wanted. Free to use her own style of magic, without the distraction or judgement of others. It was why she decided to live here in the heart of the forest. There was a river that flowed through the centre of the woodland, the ancient trees stood tall around her home, and the forest floor was packed with all manner of plant life. It was perfect; just her, the elements and Mother Nature.

Despite her preference of living alone, as time passed Eva began to yearn for something… it wasn’t romance or friendship, but the idea of a child. Children were never something she had considered, but as she grew older Eva had begun to see the benefit of having children. Someone to pass all her knowledge and wisdom to, someone to love and care for and share all that she’d learnt. She wanted to pass on this way of living, to create a legacy.

A few months ago, nine to be exact, she enchanted a local townsman - not that he would ever remember it. And now here she was, rocking side to side and cradling the underneath of her heavily pregnant stomach, preparing herself as birth drew near.

The cramps had started yesterday afternoon, small and barely noticeable at first. Eva had been terribly uncomfortable these last few weeks, suffering constant aches and twinges, so she did not immediately give them any thought. However when they got sharper and more frequent, forcing her to pause whatever she was doing, they soon got her full attention.

Not knowing how long this could take but knowing she would eventually lose mobily as her labour progressed, she collected all her preparations and got the supplies ready. Blankets, towels, sterilised medical equipment, all within easy reach in the main living room. Snacks and drinks lay available on the coffee table and a pot of hot water sat by the open fire keeping a constant warm temperature.

“Mmmnnngghhhhh” Eva moaned deeply as the latest wave peaked. She leaned forward resting her elbows on the window sill, jutting her hips back and swaying them slightly. The baby was low and heavy in her pelvis, the head pressing downwards as her body slowly opened up.

When the latest pain had eased Eva straightened and looked down at her swollen stomach, speaking lovingly towards her unborn babe. “You’re really coming aren’t you little one? I’ve not done this before so please take it easy on me.” Her child responded with a gentle kick prompting the witch to smile.

Over the next few hours Eva got into a good rhythm riding out the contractions, each one hitting sooner than the last and with incrementally more vigour. She paced, rocked, squatted, kneeled, trying to find any comfortable position to ride out the waves. Her low and heavy stomach made moving from position to position cumbersome; one hand staying on her bump or her lower back at any given time, while the other kept her supported on whatever furniture or surface was nearby.

As the contractions ramped up, creeping steadily towards unbearable, the witch’s teeth clenched tight and she growled behind them. Three minutes apart. Holding on to the back of her armchair Eva lowered herself into a deep squat. Sweat covered every inch of her body, her thin linen dress and underwear clinging to every curve of her fertile frame.

Her hips were in agony, the pressure building. She opened her mouth to wail but no sound came out, shocked into silence by a sudden burst between her open thighs. Immediately the pressure eased and Eva could catch her breath again. The wooden floor below her feet was soaked; her waters had broken.

“Oooooooh okay- We’re getting so close- Are you ready to come out now baby? I cannot wait to meet you.”

Eva stood up, cradling the curve of her spasming bump. Her bare feet stepped ungainly out of the puddle on the floor and she quickly threw a tea towel down to soak up the worst of it.

“It’s just you and me, little one. We can do this.” Eva reassured herself, rubbing circles around her swell, preparing for the intensity to soar now her waters had gone.

However, before the next contraction could strike the witch startled at the sudden loud interruption of ringing bells. Rapid and urgent, the piercing chimes echoed all around her cottage, howling through every room.

Witch hunter!

The enchantments set up around her hidden home in the forest hadn’t gone off in decades - she had almost forgotten the wards were still in place. And yet the incessant ringing immediately chilled her to her very bones, suddenly haunting her with long forgotten memories of the brutal murders of her fellow witches.

Her stomach clenched with a new, different sensation - fear. At any other time Eva would arm herself with weapons and potions and storm outside on the offence, making sure to take down her enemy before he had the opportunity to strike. But now… the pressing weight in her hips and the constant aching of her contracting womb showed she was in no position to attack, or even defend herself, if put up against a murderous witch hunter.

She had to get out of here. The warning bells throughout her home would soon reach the ears of the witch hunter and then he would beeline straight to her hidden sanctuary. She needed to find somewhere else to hide.

Distracted by the chimes, Eva was unprepared for the next contraction when it ripped across her body, rooting her to the spot. She doubled over in pain, palms planted firmly on her thighs.

“Unnnhhhhhhhhhhhh no-no-no-no……” she whimpered through strained breaths as the pain skyrocketed and her belly hardened. Panting heavily the witch ignored growing desire to bear down. Her waters had broken, she was probably almost fully dilated, if not already. But she couldn’t stay here. If she stayed, both her and her child would certainly be killed. She had to leave and find somewhere safe to deliver this baby.

After what felt like an eternity, the contraction finally faded and she bolted straight out the back door of her cottage, leaving barefoot with nothing but the clothes on her back. She had wasted precious minutes since the warning alarm riding out that last pain - she couldn’t afford to waste any more time gathering supplies to take with her. Eva took off as quickly as she could, disappearing deep into the lush green forest.

She barely got out of sight behind the first set of oak trees before another contraction was already upon her. Two minutes apart. Leaning against the rough bark of the nearest tree, Eva squeezed her eyes shut and tried hard to swallow the whimper creeping out her throat. The unbearable pressure was demanding in its silent request and her knees trembled with the effort of ignoring it. The baby was so heavy, and dangerously low. Feeling like it would just fall out if she took a step too wide. Yet she remained strong, persevering and weathering the storm in her uterus, determined to keep this baby inside of her until she got somewhere safe.

The second the pain let up an inch the witch was on the move again running as fast as she could across the forest floor. Over ferns and moss, rocks and fallen branches, thankfully the hardened soles of her bare feet were used to the uneven terrain. She made sure to keep off the main footpath and stayed hidden within the dense trees, but it made for more of an obstacle course than she’d like. With added weight of her labouring belly she couldn’t move at speed and on a few occasions nearly lost her balance. But deeper and deeper into the forest she went.

The trees became her allies, providing cover and support when she was forced to stop with each new powerful contraction… 90 seconds apart... 60 seconds apart. A large, ancient willow tree with an unusually curved trunk was the latest comrade in her fight for survival. Eva had pitched herself within the alcove of the trunk, out of sight and leaning back against the bark, lifting the weight of her hardened stomach with both hands. The long hanging branches brushed the forest floor in a circle around her position, hiding the witch behind a nature-made curtain.

“Grnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Eva could no longer hold in the animalistic sounds of her extremely advanced labour. The baby was right there, nestled deep in her widened cervix, desperate to be born.

“Nooooooooo-please-baby-wait-a-bit-moreeeeeee-” she begged through gritted teeth. The next contraction started before the current had even finished and the need to push was too powerful to refrain. Knees bending and thighs widening, Eva’s body pushed of its own accord.

It felt right, pushing. It was what she was meant to be doing - to follow nature's primal instinct. And yet she couldn’t forget the very real threat of the witch hunter, still hidden somewhere in this forest, poised and primed to kill her.

The fierce contraction continued to hold her hostage. A long grunt escaped her mouth as her body pushed along with the pain.

“I can hear you, witch!” A gravelled voice taunted from across the thick forest.

Eva’s eyes widened and immediately clamped her mouth shut, biting her lips together drawing blood. Half squatting against the tree, every muscle in her body continued to strain as it forced the baby lower and lower and lower. She couldn’t stop pushing even if she tried. One of the hands cradling her stomach shakily ventured south, lifting up her dress and feeling between her legs. Through the thin damp fabric of her underwear she could feel the baby’s head begin to enter the world.

She panted silently, tears streaming down her cheeks. The forest stretched out for miles, completely uninhabited in all directions; she was all alone. There was nowhere to go and no one to help. Heavily pregnant, being hunted, and seconds away from birthing this child.

A loud snap of wood echoed from a few metres away. Eva suddenly bolted like a startled deer, consumed entirely by fear and survival, and disappeared again into the thickened wood. She ran, wide legged, the heavy boulder of a baby’s head deep in her pelvis screaming to be born. Push! Her body cried out. Stop running and PUSH!

But she couldn’t. If she stopped she’d be dead.

Another contraction ripped through her as she ran. 30 seconds apart. Her muscles tensed and squeezed as she ran, her body trying to force the baby out despite the mother’s desire to hold on a bit longer. She could barely stay upright, the raw adrenaline no longer enough to keep this birth at bay. Her legs became jelly, all she could feel was pain and pressure and fear. Eva faltered, she couldn’t go any further. Out in the open she planted her hands against the nearest tree, widening her stance, and pushed. Hard.

“Mnnnnnnnrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!!!”

More of her baby’s head began to appear behind the fabric of her tight underwear.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh-Hecateeeeeeeeeeee!” she whimpered, praying to the deity.

Her baby was close to fully crowning, she could feel it. The white hot agony of being widened and stretched beyond anything she imagined made her eyes water and throat nauseous. She retched, a dry heave, and desperately tried to catch a breath through the dual need to push and the sudden urge to vomit. The texture of the rough bark beneath her palms was the only thing keeping the witch semi-grounded and preventing her getting swept away in the overwhelming sensations currently tearing her body apart. Still bracing the tree, Eva’s head dipped as she took slow deep breaths, ignoring the instinct to push in order to ride out the sudden nausea.

An ominous whistling sound drifted through the trees carried on the wind. Eva could barely hear it over the thundering beating of her heart, that is until she heard:

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” The voice sang.

The witch hunter was close. But so was her baby... Eva felt between her legs again to evaluate just how bad her situation was. It was bad. Her underwear was stretched beyond repair as it housed a significant portion of her baby’s head, filling her cupped palm. Ignoring all the pain and her body’s pleas to push, she panted heavily and tried to think! She needed a plan to survive.

The witch hunter had physical strength, yes, but he did not know these woods like Eva did. This was her home, her sanctuary, and she knew every inch like the back of her hand. Beyond her laboured breaths and the unnerving whistling of the approaching witch hunter, Eva registered another sound nearby - the swooshing sound of running water. The river - she was by the river!

Lifting her head the witch frantically scanned the surrounding area, getting her bearings of where she’d ended up within the woodland. She was a few hundred yards from the river’s edge, about a mile from her cottage. It wasn’t an area she often visited because of…. That’s it! Okay, it wasn’t a great plan, and there was no way to know if it would work, but it was her only shot of survival.

She took a steadying breath through the current contraction squeezing her womb, fighting once more against the primal need to push. The baby’s head filled her underwear, millimetres from a full crown. If she pushed again there was no way she’d be able to stop until the head was fully born.

Whimpering through the pain Eva stood up straight, one hand staying between her legs, and she prepared herself to move. Just get to the river. She told herself before making her way unsteadily east.

The sound of rushing water grew louder as she stumbled slowly through the forest. One step. Another step. Nearly there. She knew exactly where to go, and where to avoid, desperately trying to stay focussed on her surroundings and not succumb to the agonising pain crowning between her thighs. Keep going.

“You can’t escape me, witch!” The voice threatened, getting closer.

Eva stumbled into the side of a tree, her bare shoulder scraping against the bark. Pausing, she took a brief moment to breathe through the pain. It was a mistake. The second she stopped to inhale deeply her body started bearing down again, forcing the baby down. Immediately the head came to a full crown in her damp underwear and she screamed.

“WITCH!” The murderous voice roared.

Eva turned and saw a flash of black leather through the distant trees, and it was coming her way. Cupping the baby’s head she tentatively wobbled forwards, knees trembling, staggering towards the riverbank. The blinding pain was constant, her eyes barely focussing. She had to make it to the exact right spot or her plan would certainly fail. Her footsteps were shaky but determined as she continued the last few carefully placed steps in her journey. Behind her the crunching sound of a disturbed forest floor drew ever closer.

Reaching the river’s edge Eva collapsed against the large boulder that sat on the grassy bank. She made it. Turning around against the stone, the cold granite pressed against her back as she faced the woods and waited for the imminent arrival of the witch hunter. But the baby’s head inched lower, her body stretched to its absolute limit. She wanted to cry, to howl, to scream. Instead she focussed inward, drawing on all the power from the earth under her feet, and taking a deep breath she finally, and intentionally, followed her body’s demands. Teeth gritted, a growl behind them, she pushed with everything she had. Her whole body trembled, bearing down against the pressure of the large round head slowly appearing between her thighs. The ears… a nose… she could feel it all. Her hands frantically scrambled under her dress and within seconds the baby’s head popped out into her underwear and she cupped it quickly within her palm. The relief was instant and for a brief moment Eva’s heart calmed as she held her child’s newly born crown.

The witch’s reprieve was short-lived as the approaching footsteps from behind one of the nearby trees resulted in another person soon entering the river's edge. The witch hunter was dark haired, full beard, but was not as athletic as Eva was expecting. There was sweat glistening on his temple and dripping down his neck, disappearing beneath a thick leather jacket. His mouth practically drooled at the sight of her and he gripped the long hunting knife in his hand. The lust for her death was haunting.

“At last… you’ve given it a good go, I’ll give you that, but you cannot escape your fate.” The man said as he took a step towards her, threateningly swishing the knife in readiness. “You are an abomination, evil incarnate. Witchcraft has no place here. My family has been taking your lot out for centuries. And it looks like I get the honour of not only killing you… but the next generation as well.” He glared at her pregnant swell.

“No- no! This- this child is innocent…” Eva panted, still holding the head of her half-born babe hidden under the draped fabric of her dress.

The witch hunter scoffed and took another two ominous steps in her direction through the fallen autumn leaves. Eva watched each step with a laser focus.

“No descendant of a witch is truly innocent.” He drawled, tilting his head with an unnerving animalistic incline. “Wickedness will run through its veins, there is no saving its soul.”

Eva couldn’t take her eyes off his feet, watching every step he took. She chose this location for a reason, knowing she needed to end up exactly here by the rivers edge - dangerously using herself as bait. His heavy boots crunched through the orange leaves, sauntering slowly towards her like he was toying with his prey. So close. Her heart stopped, breath held as Eva prayed to all the Goddesses for her plan to work. Then whoosh!

The witch hunter was suddenly hoisted in the air by his foot, caught in a primitive trap laid here many years ago by the previous inhabitants of these woods, whom were long dead and forgotten. The man roared as he was pulled sharply towards the sky, his arms flailing, the hunting knife falling from his hand in his shock.

Eva exhaled heavily and closed her eyes in pure relief. The steady thumping of heart pulsed around her body, beating once more now the immediate threat disappeared. The man yelled and shouted at her as he hung limply from the tree, but the sound barely registered with the witch. Her senses had been overtaken by the sudden movement of the baby, turning inside her, and an all too familiar urgent weight pressing down signalling her work was not yet over.

Eva tried to move but she was too far gone, too deep in labour, every muscle seemingly locked in position. “Unhhhhhhhh Hecate….. mnnnggghhhhh the baby- the baby is comingg…..” she whimpered, the pain splitting her in half as she was stretched once more with the baby’s shoulders. All her bodyweight was pressed back against the boulder, and she managed to sink towards the ground. Squatting deeply, her large rounded stomach rested heavily between her thighs.

“Ohhhh it’s coming…. I- need… mnghhhhhhhh I’ve got to… got to pushh...”

She ripped off her underwear as the next contraction started, freeing the baby’s head from the confines of the damp linen. With both hands ready to catch, the witch pushed with renewed determination. “Urghhhhhhhhhhhh!” One shoulder was out! Then the next shoulder. She took a breath, panting, holding the child dangling from her body. Eva became suddenly hyper-aware of the breeze and leaves, the nearby river and the crisp autumn air, all the elements surrounding them which her child was now being born directly into. Trembling, she beared down fiercely once more and within another few minutes a newly born witch entered the world.

Eva sobbed with relief, quickly pulling her daughter up over her stomach and placing her against her chest. The infant made a soft gurgling sound, her first breath, and then started to cry. To a new mother it was the most beautiful and reassuring sound in the world.

“Disgusting…. Filthy little vermin.” The witch hunter sneered with venom.

Eva had forgotten her audience and looked up with hatred at the man still swinging upside down from the tree. She held her baby tight and secure against her skin, as if shielding the child from the mere sight of him.

“You should drown that thing in the river.” He spat.

Red, blinding fury overwhelmed the new mother. With the pain gone and her baby safe in arms, pure fury raced through every pore of the witch’s body, consuming every atom of her being. Rising slowly, babe still clutched in hand, Eva approached the hanging man with eyes glowing with revenge.

“When I get free, I'm gonna enjoy splitting you from ear to ear!” He roared.

Her head tilted in observation watching the man’s disgusting arrogance in his determination to kill her despite still struggling against the rope binding his leg. Apparently unaware his threats were idle and his attempts to escape the trap were futile.

The witch bent down carefully to pick up the large silver blade that had fallen amongst the browning leaves. The man didn’t see the new mother pick up his weapon, and didn't notice the switch when the hunted became the hunter. Eva stalked silently, murderously towards the hanging man.

Before he could open his mouth to mock or belittle or challenge her, Eva’s hand swished past his vision in a flash, the blade gliding through the witch hunter's throat like a knife through butter. The man’s eyes widened, taking a heartbeat to register what just happened, before the cascade of blood erupted from the open wound and he began to choke and splutter.

Eva dropped the knife.

Delicately readjusting and shhhing the newborn cradled in her arm, she took one final look and started their journey back to the cottage. Eva found comfort in the sounds of the forest; of the flowing river, the whistle of a breeze, and the drip drip dripping of her enemies blood now pooling onto the forest floor.

[whump-bunny]

As a whump writer, I have to make a conscious effort not to put every single chase scene in a forest. I just love forests tbh. The darkness, the creatures, the roots for whumpee to trip on, the nooks and crannies for whumpee to hide, the dogs tracking their scent, the sudden sharp decline that they tumble down, into an ice cold stream... I just love forests y'all

[feral-ballad]

Rafael Guillén, tr. by Sandy McKinney, from I’m Speaking; “Poem for the voice of Marilyn Monroe”

[Text ID: “Your voice like a dark forest with tiny screams.”]