#i like doing animal studies before drawing certain furs

[skunkes]

[x-obi-x]

hey do you have any advice for hands/fingers and fur???

Honestly I struggle with hands A LOT 😂 but here are some tips that helped me get through those rough times

(This is long)

1. I suggest making the general shape of the hand pose that you are trying to draw first. This can help your brain visualise what it is your attempting to create on paper/screen. Then keep adding in more details until you’re satisfied or atleast the hand is half way decent (🥲 🖊️).

2. If you go in straight away with no idea of how you want the hand to look, it’s most likely gonna look wack so really try to think of what you want the hand to look like before you put pen to paper.

3. References are a HUGE help when drawing anything really, so I’d advise to use them as much as possible if you have the means to. Looking at a reference can be a big help too but really studying the reference will bear more fruits. How I like to do this is by blocking out the main shapes, then the smaller shapes. This can be done on the reference itself or in your head, but on the reference is usually better if you are able to. Then you can go ahead and make it as detailed as you want our add your own twist.

(A lil extra tip so that your fingers don’t look like sausages is to make the finger tips a bit flat/pointy where the nails would be 👍)

Now for the fur. Again this is just how I prefer to approach it.

1. Plain, no clear fur added but it’s more common sense to know when fur is there for an animal.

2. This is spiked fur, for a more “hair-like” kind of coat or rugged or wild.

3. This is a poofy styled fur for soft fluffiness. Maybe for a domestic, kinder, sweeter animal.

4. This is a mix of soft and spiked to give variation to it’s coat.

Personally, as you can see, I prefer to add tufts of fur to certain areas and not all over the body. To me it looks less cluttered and it helps show where the furriest part of the character is.

In my opinion adding fur everywhere can be a bit…

…too much.

But still, it can be done correctly but I just choose not to because I don’t know how lmao.

Commissions

[matoitech]

How do you come up with super pretty design and fur patterns??

ooo this is such an open ended question theres a lot i could say ill ramble more abt more technical n specific tips under the cut, but honestly my biggest tip would just be to like, look at so much fucking furry art. looking thru other ppls art n character design is both rly fun and literally studying for ur own work. i mean id recommend looking at char design both furry and not furry in general cuz its all useful stuff and rly good to get like a diverse variety of shit to live in ur brain u can take out as insp or little things here n there for ideas for ur own design when its useful. looking at actual animals of all types and species is also useful, lots of cool patterns u can find that way and for some design in particular i will primarily be using markings similar to actual animals ive seen (at least like for example the concept of a darker mask of fur that goes under the eyes a certain way, etc). canines and felines in particular have a very very wide variety of markings u can use as inspiration. other animals too but those tend to be popular w furry art n design n r some favorites for me personally lol

for me its like, a lot of practice to get good at furry art and furry character design specifically, like pretty conscious effort since i was a kid cuz thats what i was interested in and those were the artists i admired and found as big inspiration and wanted to draw like. and ofc i am still trying to improve n learn more myself! so id say to start like.. a lot of practice, ofc looking at actual animal markings cuz u can get a LOT of good ideas that way, and big time: studying other ppls art and character design. u r never looking at other ppls art Too Much u r learning when u r having fun doing that

looking at a wide variety of dif furry styles w furry design in particular is pretty useful, especially when theyre all made for dif purposes; fursuit design vs designs for comics vs furry adoptable designs vs designs created to be animated (’animator friendly’ designs), to name a few, all r serving dif purposes n have dif goals n dif reasons for why they look the way they do.

on a more technical level of How i come up w them/make them, i sat w this one for a bit n here r some ideas i wrote down. i was trying not 2 ramble but u asked the autistic guy who is very interested in and passionate abt furry art n character design so <3 many thoiughtz under the cut so its not massively long

first is that i fuck around a LOT before i settle on smth. slap colors on shit and take colors off. if ur drawing digitally and u have a program w a filter -> color adjustments option like sai 2 u can mess w hues n saturation to get combos u never wouldve thought of without that bonus help. i tend to start working on colors/markings w digital (while i may do preleminary traditional sketches of what the character could look like before colors) cuz its way easier to test smth out and then undo it if u dont like it on digital lol. and even w how i tend to try many dif things i test around before i decide on smth i like, i always keep open the possibility that this design (if im using it as an oc) is open to being changed in the future if i find smth i like more w them

getting attached to pieces of a design and wanting to build around that is great cuz its how u figure out what u like and what is important to u w this design/character, but whats also important is being able to recognize when smth just isnt working (at least the Way ur approaching it, or maybe the character ur trying it with, etc) and u need to try a different track. u can always keep that trait u rly like and want to put on a character and just rework it into a dif design later, i do that all the time! just be content with some designs maybe just taking more time to come together and thats cool too, u need time to stew on ur thoughts n try things in ur brain b4 u test them in actual art sometimes (i mean, for me at least). sometimes u just need to sit on a character design for a while and try a lot of things before smth Clicks. at least for me! sometimes its very easy to design a character and figure out markings n stuff but other times it takes me a lot of attempts and building up a design w new ideas i am getting along the way. maybe i realize this particular design trait is cool but just isnt working on this character/design so i file it away on the backburner to test on a new character later till i find a design (or oc if i RLY like it and want to draw it a lot) who it DOES fit. 

i have a pretty big stock of inspiration n ideas i have in my brain bcuz i have been autistically obsessed w furry art and improving at my own since i was a kid so i just have a lot of Interest in this stuff and have a very big like.. amnt of shit to draw from i think? again, padding out what u have to draw from in ur brain in the first place. u could also save character design insp somewhere and look thru it before u start working on a design urself, i do that sometimes! it gets the creative juices flowing for me to look at art i admire and feel inspired by before i work on my own. do stuff to get urself inspired or ur brain working in that direction, whatever way that works for u, u know urself best w it

i often keep notes of little ideas i have or things i want to try so i can try making a character design around it later, i have always loved making characters and character design so i dont rly have problems w lack of ideas or anything, its smth u just work on and if its fun u keep working on it! as a kid id do stuff like, just look thru lists of animals and then just make a bunch of furry designs for those animals, or do stuff like assign colors or plants or elements or whatever animals and then make Furry Versions of those. that was entertaining to me and how i had fun. this kinda stuff is still good practice (emoji randomizers r fun to make character design from, for example). 

when im stumped w my own design or looking for new ideas to try that may click better, or when i just need a break cuz i definitely am not drawing all the time, i take a break from drawing and go back to looking at lots of art, aka, STUDYING <3 read comics, watch movies, etc too, whatever ur interested in and inspired by. i think a lot abt my own designs n ocs n stuff i want to draw and ideas i might use or like (or things i dont care for or am that interested in that i think ‘how can i implement that in a way that i DO like in my own design, how can i make this become interesting to me’) while im like, just living my life and seeing outfits and seeing palettes and seeing other ppls work n stuff, not JUST when im drawing. im playing around w ideas in my head before i actually draw, this is smth u probably improve on with just like, time and practice and gaining the ability to gauge if smth is worth trying before u actually draw it. again i cannot stress enough how important looking at a lot of other character design is; both what u like and what u dont like is going to be internalized and is going to be rly useful for making ur own designs. look at a lot of different art styles, look at how other ppl design characters. know that character design is something u can absolutely improve on, its not like, a talent some ppl have and some ppl dont, some ppl just r going to be more passionate abt it and WANT to spend more time on it and improve Because of that. 

back to colors! the good thing is palettes (and well everything else abt designs) r super dependant on what u personally enjoy so theres not rly right or wrong ways to do them. liek if someone asked me for tips on how i personally often create palettes for characters Right Now i could think abt it and try to pick up patterns w my own art and then explain my like thought process abt it to ppl, but thats just what i personally like doing right at this moment, and that changes! u have a lot of room to just have fun. rly look at character designs n palettes that r RLY speaking to u and figure out whats working abt it for u or how u can incorporate how much u love how that artist uses colors n palettes n what theyre Doing there to make it work into ur own work. fun studying!

now a more personal one: typically (not as a general rule but often) my oc design is built to be drawn repeatedly and not be overwhelmingly complex to me.  the goal is to get smth that looks good and interesting without actually being difficult for me cuz i know myself and know i wont draw a character thats too complicated for me lol whether id get bored or intimidated by the idea of just having to draw a whole complicated fuckin thing when i just want to doodle. for me, this means i tend to pull a lot of character design tips i learned from animation. ‘animator friendly’ kinda stuff, BUT i can typically afford to be a little more complex bcuz im not animating them. im not sure if this is still common but when i was growing up ‘good furry designs’ at least w the artists and other kids i was hanging around were often considered what was the most complex and cool looking over what was actually like, replicatable and feasible to draw consistently without spending a lot of time coloring. stuff that would make having to draw that oc for someone in a commission a complete fucking pain, but sure looks cool as a finished product so u Get why ppl go for those. but personally while i like seeing those designs i know myself and probably wouldnt buy one of those adoptables for that, cuz i know i woldnt draw it enough lol. i enjoy em and can draw some for art fight but as my own oc’s they probably wouldn’t like.. fit my own needs? i may have a much easier time drawing them now bcuz i have drawn furry art and furry character design for a long time so i can figure out what im looking at easier, but it probably wouldve overwhelmed me quite a bit when i got started (been too long for me to remember lol). and thats good to know, its good to be aware of what u want to be drawing and figuring out what kinda stuff YOU like. 

adding on from above but that paragraph got long: of course having designs that r rly complex is a lot of fun n stuff im not saying dont do that im saying for ME personally a lot of my oc design tends to be centered around ‘what do i know /i/ will be capable of drawing multiple times without getting either overwhelmed or bored’. so thats a thought for me w my own designs. i also often make designs that i plan on using for like comics or smth later so i do want the design to not be terribly hard to reproduce if im planning on ‘this character is gonna be showing up quite a bit and i dont want to put a ton of work into every panel’

i will also say that like personally while markings r definitely important i DO try to mix design traits thru a more Character Design lense with a Furry Character Design lense. what i mean by that is its good to expand ur Character Design ability in general by paying attention to drawing differing body types and proportions, face shapes and like cheek/chin/etc shapes/fluff, nose and eye shapes, hair style and hair texture, etc. furry adoptables focus on creative and interesting markings on a base to make the character stand out from other wolf guys. which is also very useful to be studying and getting inspiration from for sure! i enjoy those often complex designs for sure. but for me personally i do try to take the approach of diversifying w designs (particularly w my own ocs), cuz its fun and cuz its pretty necessary when ur talking abt like, Character Design.  even as someone who often puts a lot of design traits i Know i like onto many of my ocs (mohawks <3 muscles <3 etc) like w character design its important that ur characters would not all look completely the same if they switched clothes or palettes or hairstyles yk? even when putting ‘buff’ onto multiple chars of urs cuz u just like that and drawing muscles theres many ways to make a character muscular on a lot of dif body types and proportions, for example. and while there r parts of the making these characters all look different that may b harder w furry character design (like u got all these wolves and now u gotta figure out how they all look different beyond just colors!!) its definitely still like, Necessary to me personally! i assume u were asking more abt like fur patterns rather than this kinda stuff but i would recommend u think abt that when designing characters as well, its fun and it will definitely improve ur own work in general! and it is rly necessary to practice things like a wide range of body types and hair textures n styles. it will make u a better artist overall.

look at tips from ppl who do professional character design, whether its furry artists or ppl who work with dif types of media (movies, tv, comics, video games, etc). a wider knowledge base never hurts! i have always rly personally valued tips from ppl working in the animation industry so i think thats like one of the primary ‘tutorials’ i paid more attention to and integrating from +as well as my history as a furry artist and what furry artists tend to like and consider ‘good’ character design. it just tkes a lot of fucking around n building up stuff u can draw from. and ur taste will probably change with time and as u improve. theres a place for everything and ur eyes will get better at figuring out what looks good paired together, to u, over time. u can also get great ideas n tips n inspiration from artists of all sorts of skill levels of course! 

anyway i hope this helps at all or answers ur question in some capacity, im sure theres stuff i missed but theres a lot of Words here but thats cuz i dont like.. think abt this stuff very consciously so it sounds more complicated when u write it out vs just doing it, which starts feeling more like second nature when u improve at it. i rly appreciate the compliment btw im always flattered to hear ppl like my designs! 

[twst-campos13]

ANWHWHAHHAHAH YEAHHHH NONBINARY/MALE FOCUSED BLOG THIS IS EVERYTHING IVE WANTED UR SO POGGERS!! can i have an agender reader who’s dating vil where he gets turned into a catboy? you can choose whatever format you like! congrats on the new blog; i cant stress how happy i am to see a blog like this!

Hi mac!! thank you for visiting my blog!! here’s your request >:0!! I hope you enjoy it! (some commentary in the notes!)

Warnings: mild language! Tags: agender reader, catboy Vil, fluff!

Simply put it, Professor Crewel assigned his class to perfect an animal shifting potion for the authentic assessment. Something as advanced as this could not be perfected without any assistance, so of course, you approached the person that you know excelled in this area.

At first, Vil Schoenheit declined. “There is a reason why Professor Crewel strictly assigned it as an individual assessment, potato,” Vil Schoenheit said with a certain amusement in his tone despite his stoic features. You pouted, tugging on his hand and pleading to help you with this assessment. Eventually he gave in but only on one condition: he will only be assisting you and that is final as you should be the one doing most of the work. If Vil is helping you, then that is enough for you.

After a grueling 6 hours later, you have reached the near end of your potion brewing. The potion that was mildly viscous and muddy turned smooth and dappled white in color. It smells mildly pungent however, a contrast to the clean appearance of the potion. Even Vil's nose scrunched at the smell. "Lovely," he commented.

"This means it worked right?" You asked, looking down at the swirling liquid and watching a few bubbles rapidly pop at the surface. You would need to simmer it for a few more minutes before taking it off the heat and cooling. Vil studied the simmering brew. "An animal shifting potion's appearance vary from color and smell based on what animal you wish to transform into," he said. "I would not conclude its success without testing it."

You looked at him innocently. "Will you drink it for me then?"

You nearly laugh when his face slightly contorts to disbelief. "I came with you as an assistant, not a test subject." Vil planted his hands firmly on his waist. "What reason do you have to not consume it yourself?"

You remembered a mundane ingredient added to the potion. "I'm allergic to nutmeg," you answered.

You were not allergic to nutmeg.

Vil squinted his eyes at you and you smiled. Sighing with a roll of his eyes, he takes out a small kit from his bag. It was a rectangular mahogany box, varnished, with intricate gold borders. Inside were empty vials and flasks with nameless labels. "Fine. But I will not be drinking straight from a beaker. That is highly dangerous and unethical."

"Ace and Grim did it once or twice." Your queen looked at you with a certain judgement behind his goggles. "You often forget that I am different from them, darling," Vil stated.

Your eyes looked back and forth on your notes and your boyfriend. His skin became noticeably paler and he was visibly perspiring. Once you identified the obvious signs of discomfort, you knew the potion was taking effect. Vil was quick to unbutton his lab coat—and suddenly you remembered that you still have an ounce of decency left and turned away. You bit the inside of your cheek as excitement bubbled at the pit of your stomach. You were excited about two things: one, being that you may have successfully brewed an animal shifting potion; and two, you get to see Vil Schoenheit turn into a cute little furball—

You...did not expect his voice to exasperatedly purr your name.

Startled, you turned around—forgetting the moments before that was disrobing himself; he must be covered in fur somehow—and became even more startled that you nearly elbowed nearby equipment. You gaped at him, words failing to form out of your mouth and instead stammering gibberish that soon turned into a single, coherent, verbal reaction.

"Holy fuck."

"How eloquent," Vil snide sarcastically, his tail—holy fuck it's so big and fluffy—swaying behind him.

You tried not to—but you did—took note of his partially disheveled appearance. His lab coat and goggles were neatly placed on the table. His pants were slightly hung loose around his waist and a few buttons of his shirt collar were undone, exposing the dip of his neck. Both of you were expecting at least some fur to cover his skin, but alas, there was none.

Instead, a pair of fluffy ears twitched atop his head, and a tail nearly round and fashioned from the clouds, soft around the edges and puffed up like a squirrel's. But Vil did not turn into a squirrel. He turned into a minuet cat. Half-cat. You turned Vil into a catboy. It seems the potion did not work in a way you were expecting it to.

"I don't understand," was all you could say. Vil scoffed. "Now you speak after ogling at me?" He raised a brow, tail flicking behind him at a sudden intonation. You noticed that his manner of speaking changed a little. If he was elegant before he is certainly more elegant now. Like...a domesticated cat that perfected etiquette lessons.

"I wasn't ogling—I was just staring, surprised," you corrected, despite the heat at the tip of your ears. Vil hummed—purred—and his eyes narrowed at you. "Ogling and staring are two very similar things, darling."

You question if he is purring on purpose. Every syllable at the end of his sentence ended with a smooth purr. Maybe, you thought, it is just an adverse effect of the potion.

So, you tried retracing your steps. Where did it possibly went wrong? All ingredients were measured carefully, weighed even, and you made sure to be precise in stirring—

"Darling." You jumped a little from your thoughts. When did Vil get so close to you? "You are standing there like a sprouted potato," he said, eyes peering at you. "Have you figured out where you went wrong?"

"I was getting there," you muttered, eyes glancing at his tail again. You wondered how soft it would be if you run your fingers across the fur. Can a cat's tail reach that level of fluff? Now you wonder about his ears...would they be as soft as they look? If you touch it—pet it—would he like it? Will he lean more to your touch like a cat asking for more affection? Would he—

You froze when your chin was lifted. Your entire face flared at the intimate gesture. "It seems you would rather focus elsewhere than pinpoint your misstep..." he purred. There was a hint of teasing in his tone. You swallowed. "I mean, this—" you gestured at him vaguely "—this is new." You lightly chuckled, trying to calm yourself down. You cannot even meet your boyfriend's eyes from how intense he is staring at you. Vil's fingers remained curled under your chin. Light, but noticeable.

"And what do you plan on doing?"

His fingers moved on from your chin and slid behind your neck to fiddle with the hem of your back collar. Now he is starting to act like a curious cat.

"W-Well if I plan on reversing the effects then that means I have to properly observe this result of the potion first," you mumbled, not fighting the smile that draws from your lips. Something about this scene seemed affectionate. Vil chuckled, and you did not miss the way his lips tugged into a slight smirk. "Is that what you are suggesting to do? To observe?"

You do not miss the flirtatious tone in his voice, either. "Don't make it sound weird, Vil..." you muttered, and he laughed at your probably pouty face. A laugh that is soft and quiet. His hand slid past your shoulder and he sat down on his chair. He leaned back with his legs crossed. His tail idly swayed back and forth behind him as his ears twitched with interest. His plum-purple eyes beckoned you, as do his inviting purr.

"Well, your assessment is not finished yet, yes? Go on. Observe me."

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Exotic Lifeforms.”

Had some fun writing this one. Give you more of that alien perspective everyone likes so much, so I hope you like it 

“It has been a pleasure doing work with you as always.”

“Your end of the deal?”

“Already upheld…. Where do you even find these creatures. I can’t say we have ever seen anything like it.”

“We found these ones on a stroke of luck. We do not think they are native to the panet, though where they came from is still very much a mystery.”

“Then what a stroke of luck for us indeed, I can’t imagine having your job.”

“You should try sometime, the exotic lifeforms business is very lucrative. If it hadn’t been you, I would have sold it to a wealthy owner.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because, you paid more.” 

The Vitan turned ponderously on its five trunk-like legs and left through the open wall which spilled a beam of light through the room before going dark once more. 

The doors all around the circular room closed, the collector turned back to their work. The room itself was large and dark, shaped in that of a large black circle, the floors rising up with a steady curve into the ceiling than above. They stood at the center of this circle, and when commanded great projections of blue light appeared around the circle each disclosing a different image from a different one of the pens.

They turned their attention to the newest addition, watching the creature where it prowled back and forth around the perimeter of the yard.

Another beam of light cut through the room, though they did not turn to see who it might be.

The sound that followed was a sort of scuttling noise, slimy and wet against the open floor.

The Mandicar approached from behind and paused just to the right and behind their left side, a lead scientist by trade, she was one of the most important life forms on his staff.

They turned to address her.

Four thick stumpy tentacles undulated and wriggled, pulling her heavy body across the floor. The sacules on the side of her torso wobbled with her movement, and thousands of tiny breathing holes across her skin expanded and contracted with the movement of airflow. 

“What have you discovered?” They wondered, though-- nothing the tint of blue on the tips of her tentacles, the could see that she was very excited.

“A glorious discovery! Very exciting and like nothing we have ever seen before. Each creature better than the last. I have four new species to report about, and add to our collected knowledge on exoctic lifeforms.”

“Go on.”

“The names are decided Duopedus Secandi, Volantes Planita, and Magnum Turpis, Though the children have taken to calling the first a Duos because they cannot pronounce the proper scientific name. It is a very popular creature with our guests, very active. IT has even been seen to interact with some of the guests.”

“Tell me, what have you learned about this creature.”

She adjusted herself clearly excited to be giving a presentation. That is why they had hired her. While they were not particularly interested about the welfare and maintenance of these creatures, studies had shown that a happy creature that was well taken care of was more likely to live a long time, and therefore draw more of a profit. Not to mention that the sentient species tended to react best when there was someone around to boost enthusiasm, and he had to admit she was very good at that.

“Oh it's a lovely little creature, quite adorable really, the way it scampers around on its little feet.”

“Focus.”

“Oh, sorry.” The sacules at her sides flushed purple, “Well we know the basic so far. Obviously it is a bipedal carbon-based consumer lieform. Its primary needs are Oxygen and water. An analysis of its structures, including teeth, eyes and other notable features seem to suggest that it is an omnivorous predator. Early studies seem to suggest it has a relatively high IQ, maybe that of a small child though it does not seem capable of language, at least not that we understand. It’s range of speech are in extremely high pitches, and it barely seems to be able to hear us much less us hear it.”

“How very interesting.”

“Isn’t it! Anyway, I took the liberty of analysing it, so that we might better accommodate its needs. And so far what I have determined is,... well the creature is very cute, but it is a complete  biohazard risk.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean all of its byproducts are completely volatile and hazardous to health. We have tested and analysed some of it by products and determined it to have some sort of symbiotic relationship with bacteria that live in its innards. These bacteria help the creature digest in exchange for maintained life, but due to this many of these bacterial lifeforms are expelled and cause great hazard. This process begins in the mouth meaning if this creature were to bite, it could lead to a likely lethal infection.” “We will have to put barriers in front  of the enclosure than.”

“Precisely.”

“ Now  as to more health related topics. The creature is capable of consuming a very versatile diet though its resistance to infection is a little less than one might have hoped, so it’s food will need to be properly cleaned. The diet itself should contain a wide variety of complex structures as it cannot produce by itself some of the chemicals required to feed it. That should not be hard, I would suggest injecting supplements into the food we are already rationing to it. This should include meat as I have said before. As a consumer based lifeform it both requires and expends a great deal of energy. I imagine it will be one of the viewers favorites due to the increased activity level. Furthermore -- as related to my earlier discussion -- its pen should be cleaned weekly if not biweekly. A clean water source should be provided, one that has likely been sterilized as it seems the water on its native planet was not prone to bacterial interference.”

“Seems strangely needy for a creature that has a symbiotic relationship with bacteria.”

“A very specific kind of bacteria.”

“Alright then, what else do we know?”

“The creature is bipedal as you are aware, though its feet and skin are relatively soft. It will require sand in its enclosure for maximum comfort, not to mention that it will need a shaded place to rest in order to stay out of the direct rays of the sun. Its skin has no natural defences against UV light making me think that it is likely a creature meant for the shade, though I cannot be certain. That is merely a guess based on the very light color of its dermal layer.” 

They nodded, “That can definitely be arranged.”

“Now, analysis also demonstrates a high production of oil in the skin and the hair. We see this as some kind of over-production, so it might be best to add a second kind of water source for it to bathe itself. The skin is water-proof but also requires moisture, and I think that a slow running river through the habitat would be a nice touch for the creature. Since it does not have fur, and the body has to work to thermoregulate, I would suggest temperatures around 75-80 degrees with 45-55% humidity index. Furthermore analysis of the bone structure might suggest that the creature originally evolved from an animal that walked on all fours, for this reason the feet, the knees and the lower back are especially prone to issue. IT will need somewhere comfortable to lay down, likely in that same shaded area I mentioned before. Something with enough padding to support the spine and allow for the bones of its hips and shoulders not to become soar.”

They were working to type this up in a report and send it out to the lieforms who built the habitats.

“What else do we know?”

“Since the creature has an increased intelligence quotient, I would suggest stimulating the environment. Add in some kind of activities or puzzles for it to solve, so that it will not be bored, otherwise it could become destructive. OUr analysis suggests that it was likely supposed to be a social creature, so Maybe adding a ground level window for it to interact with guests. We can see if maybe we can tame the creature so that the keepers might be able to provide it with some socialization. I hesitate to do that though because it still is a wild animal.”

They shifted turning to look at the camera feed, where the Duos was still wandering the perimeter of its enclosure.

“I thought you said it was docile.”

“It was injured when we found it, which was a likely reason, but I have done some tests on its chemical structure, and it seems to me that the creature produces some kind of hormone that stimulates the aggression centers of its brain. If this creature were to get out of its cage and be in a bad mood, it has a bite force of 162 pounds per square inch which is capable of tearing flesh and even amputating small lims on some of our guests, not to mention that the claws on the tips of its fingers can break skin. There is also evidence that it can turn its saliva into a projectile, which means that it can spread its biohazard up to around 32 feet, though that is on the extreme end of the spectrum.”

“This creature is really than dangerous?””

She sighed loudly through her entire body, the sacks at her sides quivering with the movement, “You see, that is the difficult part to determine because…. I would have to say no. It is not as dangerous generally as most of the creatures we keep here, but it is just dangerous enough in a variety of ways that the aggregate makes it especially concerning. Take the fact that the creature is not venomous, but it's just enough of a biohazard to behave like it is. Its bite isn’t that strong and its teeth aren’t that sharp, but still enough to rip flesh. Its not as strong as some animals, but strong enough to know someone over and hurt them badly. It isn’t very fast, but faster than some. IT isn’t the smartest we have seen -- that goes to the Volontes Planita-- but it is smart enough that we have to be careful. It isn’t aggressive, but it has the potentiality to be.” She ran her tentacles over the ground, “I think what I am trying to say is that the creature isn’t particularly impressive in any one aspect, but its abilities are so diverse than it aggregates into something greater than the sum of its parts.”

They nodded in great interest, “Go on.”

“It can run, it can jump, it can bite, it can spit, it can throw, it can crawl, oh and it can climb, that is probably something important you are going to have to look out for. An analysis of its feet and hands suggest great dexterity of a four legged creature that once spent most of its timb climbing, and while this creature spends most of its time walking on land there are still structures in there that make it an excellent climber as it can grip very well with the hands and partially with the feet. The hands in particular are an important structure to keep an eye on as the creature has an amazing dexterity with them.”

“How so?”

“IF could probably perform complex medical procedures if we asked it to, not that that would really be possible.”

“Good, good. I will get this down to the workers immediately, and they will make an enclosure for it.”

“Ah…. but there is one more thing.”

“What is that?”

“It seems as if we are not the first one to have captured this creature?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” They demanded, turning around to look at the scientist with great interest and agitation.

“The body is not completely organic. The skeletal structure on its outer layer that we once thought of as some kind of exoskeleton is not organic.”

“Not organic!”

“No sir, it seems to be made out of titanium and steel. Not to mention that one of its legs has been replaced, along with one of its eyes.”

They stood there in shock not entirely sure what to think about that, “It survived without one of its limbs.”

“Yes whatever happened to this creature, one of the legs and the eyes was removed and replaced with analogues. As for the creature itself, it is very durable, and has overactive scar tissue meaning that it heals quickly and from extreme injuries. That is another reason that I express my concern to you as it seems this creature may not be taken down by normal means especially if some other life form has been tampering with it.”

“That is…. horrible .”

Another long sigh, “I know…. Its horrible what they did to it. I can’t believe someone would be so callous. How it must have suffered.”

“Well, get it moved into a new enclosure, and see that its needs are taken care of. I want to send some of my people back to see if we can learn anything about the species that has been tampering with it.”

“Of course.” 

She turned and headed towards the door.

They called after her and she turned, “Be careful, if that creature is half as dangerous as you say it is, we will want to be cautious.” ***

I was not going with them.

I sat at the center of my ‘pen’ arms crossed and looking at the open cage door at the other side of the enclosure.

These asshole bastards had put me in a fucking zoo,and now they expected me to cooperate for a measly piece of fruit. Despite popular opinion from my brothers I am not a fucking monkey and will not be bribed to go with out.

I had already done a preliminary examination of the enclosure. It was nothing to write home about  -- aside form the fact that I was it’s occupant which bothered me greatly, and made me feel some serious feelings for the lions at the zoo who must have been just as pissed off as I was.

The walls were too high and too smooth to climb, and at their top I could see a thousand eyes staring down at me. Now its not like there were a thousand people to look on, but some of these freaky aliens had like ten ees which greatly skewed the eye count.

They gestured with tentacles and limbs and and any other appendages towards me as I sat arms crossed glowering towards the door.

A part of me greatly wanted to flip all of them off or moon them or something, but just because I was being treated like a monkey didn’t mean I had to act like one.

I could see the handlers moving just outside the cages trying to coax me in by tossing in more fruit. In a way watching them struggle was kind of funny. Based on their behavior, I would wager to say they had no idea that I was sentient. If they ever found out this was going to ook really stupid for them.

Now if they have a plate of my mom’s Pumpkin Pie in there, than MAYBE that would work, number one because pie is great and number two because that would imply they were keeping my mother captive to make pies, which was something I could hardly stand for.

Let them do what they want.

I needed to find a way out because this was DEFINITELY not ok.

This is not how I was going to spend the rest of my days.

For sure.

I had to be smart about this. Sitting there in the sand I began to devise a plan. The important part obviously was not to let on about how intelligent I really was. Unfortunately a lot of that might already have been undone, but maybe if I acted enough like an animal, than it would lower their guard and they would make somes sort of mistake.

Remember, I still had the Iron eye armor on my side, and an advanced prosthetic leg. Not to mention a knife and two spearheads which had been concealed under my leaves, so I was not completely helpless.

Although, you know what, retract my earlier statement. Maybe acting like a monkey is exactly what I needed to do to get out of this place. Make myself look docile and harmless, lower security and get my ass out of here.

Man I wish I was smarter, for sure, but I guess flying by the seat of my pants was going to have to do.

I cracked my knuckles and then my neck.

Time to go back to my animal roots.

Yeah, laugh all you want but it is much easier to behave like an animal when you are actually behaving like an animal.  I couldn’t convince them i wasn't bipedal already, but I made sure to behave all the other ways like an animal, slowly and nervously approaching the opening, stepping half in and then backing out, quickly grabbing some fruit and then running off with it. Eating pieces of it messily and with both hands. Using my teeth as much as possible.

Yeah yeah, I felt pretty dumb, but this was my first idea so I might as well roll with it.

Once that piece of fruit was done, I wandered over and nervously crawled in on all fours testing the ground with my hands.

OF course I could already see the hatch way that was going to come slamming down as soon as I crawled inside. I may be an idiot but I am a sentient idiot, and just as I thought it would, as soon as I crawled in far enough, the door slammed shut. I made a big show of getting spooked and racing around the sindie of the cage jumping up against the walls until finally curling up piteously in a corner. All the while I am watching carefully how they contain me, and it seems as if their transfer method is pretty solid. I had more likelihood of breaking out in the pen.

I wait quietly in my corner as the box is moved, and suddenly the door slides open again. 

I do my best to look hesitant and scared as I poke my head out into the sun.

A waft of pleasantly warm air hits me.

Crawling out, I crawl out onto nice warm sand. A stream trickles past my feet not a few feet away, and just to my right a little shaded nest has been made up below a tall covering. There are branches and steel bars lined around the enclosure, meaning I guess they figured out that humans can climb. 

Overhead I can see a steel cage cutting off my escape from the top.

Or so they thought.

It was a pleasant little place all told, almost like a beachfront island paradise with the perfect temperature and humidity.

I crawled up over to the next and took a seat hidden behind the leaves.

Well fuck their beachfront property and comfortable captivity.

I would rather be a free man suffering than a well groomed pet in a cage.

I was going to escape.

[aleator]

day 01 - fantasy au (thor/tony)

Challenging myself again this NaNoWriMo to further my ThorTony agenda. Prompts taken from the AU-gust 2020 challenge list on Twitter.

Thor knows better than to give his name to the man he met in the woods.

Normally Thor is an affable sort, prone to helping strangers and chatting with anyone who’s just passing through. But he can tell straight away that the man in the woods isn’t a normal stranger or passerby, so when the man asks after his name, Thor says he can just call him a friend.

He sees him when he travels through the great wood between his village and the larger city where he gets supplies for the people in his town. He goes about once a week, taking a wagon and a list of goods to look out for. These days the man in the woods waits for him near the road, and when he sees him he calls out a, “Ho, friend, and well met.”

Thor lets him travel with him on the wagon the rest of the way, though the man sometimes tries to get Thor to stay in the woods. It’s tempting at times--the man is beautiful, his hair so dark Thor would call it ebony, and his amber eyes seem to glow almost unnaturally when the light catches them at the right angle. When the man tells Thor to call him Anthony, Thor is certain that’s not his real name.

Anthony is a chatty one, something that takes Thor by surprise the first time he lets Anthony travel with him through the woods. He suspects that Anthony only rides with him just to talk to him, because he always leaves before Thor gets to the edge of the forest, even though he always asks Thor for his name every time. Thor may enjoy his company and his chatter on the lonely trip through the woods, but he wasn’t raised by a fool, and his mama taught him better than to give too much to someone who is clearly fae.

“I have something for you,” Anthony says one morning, after he’s settled beside Thor at the front of the wagon, and he holds out his hand to reveal a dark purple plum.

Thor’s mama had also taught him to be wary of fae gifts and especially fae food, but at the same time not to be rude to fae either. Overall, it seemed there were a lot of things to be careful with when it came to fae, and it would be easier not to deal with one at all, but he’s in a bit too deep to be worrying about that now.

“It’s lovely,” Thor says politely, because it’s really the most delicious plum he’s ever seen, “but it isn’t plum season.”

“I have a special garden,” Anthony says. “I can get you any fruit you want.”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve already eaten breakfast today,” says Thor, side-stepping again, and so Anthony tucks the plum away, looking a little glum.

It goes like this for the next several weeks. Anthony reveals a different fruit every time, each one more delicious-looking than the last. Every time Thor politely declines, even when he dearly wishes to try one of the fruits he’s never seen before. Anthony never gets mad, and he doesn’t seem deterred either, trying again the next week and the next.

“Why don’t you leave the forest?” Thor asks Anthony one day as the fae man gets down from the wagon before he exits the forest on the way into the city.

“I can’t,” Anthony says simply. “I have to tend to my garden.”

That doesn’t seem like much of an answer, but Thor nods and bids Anthony farewell before continuing down the road to town.

“You look tired,” Thor tells Anthony the next time he accompanies him through the woods. Indeed, Anthony’s beautiful dark hair is limp and ashy, his normally animated eyes too dull. “Are you ill?”

Anthony shakes his head, looking down at the single raspberry in his hand that Thor’s rejected once again. “It’s nothing. Do not worry about me.”

But to Thor’s surprise, he finds that he is worrying about Anthony. Even once he’s returned home from his trip, the supplies from his wagon passed out among the villagers, he thinks of Anthony and his pale complexion and hopes that he’s all right.

The next week Thor doesn’t see Anthony in the forest at all, not on his way to the city or the way back. The weather has turned cold, with snow and frost on the ground, and though Anthony is fae Thor still worries about him. Fae don’t get sick, do they?

He spends several days fretting, until on day three he packs his bag, bundles up in his warmest furs, and treks into the forest.

He’s not sure what he’s looking for. Anthony likely doesn’t live in a simple cottage or anything of normal, mundane nature. But he still walks deeper into the forest, starting at the point where Anthony normally joins him on his wagon, and looks for signs of fae habitation.

He finds it in the form of a fairy ring, no snow or dead leaves within the circle of mushrooms on the ground. Thor takes a deep breath, hitches his bag higher over his shoulder, and steps into the ring.

The forest on the other side of the ring is lush and green, no signs of winter at all. The air sparkles in the bright sunlight and glowing spores decorate the trees. Thor walks deeper in, taking the path of least resistance, until he comes across a clearing between the trees.

There he finds Anthony, laying amongst the dying flowers and fruits in his garden. Thor drops his rucksack and rushes over to him, kneeling in the dirt by his side.

“Anthony?” Thor whispers, gently touching his cheek, his heart pounding anxiously. For a moment he thinks Anthony is dead, but then the smaller man shifts under his hand and Thor lets out a relieved breath. “Anthony, what’s wrong? You look at death’s door.”

Opening his eyes at the sound of Thor’s voice, Anthony smiles at him and lifts his hand, uncurling his fingers to reveal a single berry.

“What is this? Why do you keep offering me these things?” Thor asks, a tremble in his voice.

“I wish to keep you with me,” Anthony replies, barely above a whisper. “Humans cannot claim another with a name, but they can share in a fae’s power.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” How long has Anthony been stripping away his power, trying to give pieces of his heart to an oblivious human who was too fearful of old stories to realize? “You absolute fool, why didn’t you say anything?”

“You won’t give me your name,” Anthony says, and Thor swears it sounds almost churlish. “You won’t take my gifts. You don’t want me. I’m not stupid.”

Thor cups his hand over Anthony’s, covering the berry protectively. “It’s Thor,” he says without any fear. “My name’s Thor Odinson. Keep your power, Anthony.”

He brings their cupped hands up to Anthony’s mouth, tipping the berry out of his hand and feeding it to him. Anthony doesn’t resist, chewing the berry slowly, and once he swallows it Thor leans down and places his mouth upon Anthony’s, kissing him gently.

Anthony tastes sweet like berries, the color coming back to his face before they even finish the kiss. His hair regains its dark luster and his eyes sparkle golden once more.

“What are you going to do with me now you have me?” Thor murmurs, studying Anthony’s healthy face.

Anthony reaches up, delicate fingers brushing over Thor’s cheek, and he draws him back down into another kiss that Thor is all too happy to give him, lost in a world where time has no meaning.

[clannfearrunt]

Roughly Late Stoneish Ageish Inkfish Thoughts

That I forgot to! Post! I think! Mostly drawn up in... October 2019; Anything related to housing drawn Literally Just Now

I had some Thoughts and Such about early Inkfish society a while back and started to draw them, and forgot about it pretty quickly. I do not have numbers but in general this is an era directly before Inklings and Octolings had made contact with each other. Both had developed the use of stone tools and similar building techniques independently, though Octolings had also been making some advances in pottery making that they later passed on to Inklings. I did not draw these tools because I burned out.

Under the cut is a really long rant with pictures about the details I had more ideas about, like Clothing, Housing, and Slight Ideas about early Inkling and Octoling social structure, under the cut to save ur dashboards:

Clothing

Typical Inkling clothing tended to be quite minimal, if they wore anything at all. Most clothing simply consisted of roughly woven plants, wrapped around the waist or made into a vest or cloak if the weather required some coverage from the sun. More than that as everyday clothes was a little bit of a luxury, seen in more larger tribes. Shoes and additional body coverings were used when going into heavily planted areas and wet shorelines. The most valuable clothing were full fish leather parkas and trousers, as fish leather is waterproof and can offer protection against rain, or allow coastal fishers to safely wade into the sea a little. There weren’t that many of them made because of how much work and fish it took to make them, so they were used sparingly and with great care. Even MORE valuable were clothing made from Salmonid leather, but Inklings did not usually specifically target Salmonids in search of their hides as it was deemed too high risk. Most Inklings during this era did not have much in the way of “cold weather” clothing, as their preferred range didn’t see that significant of a drop in temperature even in the winter. The best they usually had was adding plant fiber vests and trousers.

The baseline attire for most Octolings especially inland was a simple tunic (?) made of rough ramie cloth. They’re hand-woven, so they’re rather rough - Here’s a link to a recreation of the process I’m talking about, making small cord straps for demonstration purposes. They usually saved cloth making for the winter months, where they stayed holed up inside their homes all season. Leather made of fish and reptile skin was also used, but they were prioritized for use in footwear and water protection wear first. As they lived further north than Inklings, they did actually have cold weather attire. In the absence of mammals with warm fur that humans used to make clothes from, Octolings had to get a little more creative. To create winter coats, they took tighter-woven and layered ramie cloth, or if available, leather (usually reptile or fish derived), and stuffed them with down feathers plucked from their meals. Some experimented with sewing in dedicated pockets on the inside of the coats to place heated rocks inside so that they could stay out in the cold longer if they needed to for emergencies. They made bedding and blankets in a similar fashion.

Housing

Caves were highly valued as homes, but as populations increased and people traveled for new territory it became more common to build homes themselves. In both Inklings and Octolings, dugout/pit type homes were pretty standard, though there were variations in the construction.

This type of building was commonly built by Inklings if they could find level ground to build on. These were shallow, wide holes with relatively low and level roofs, often with a pit dug around the entrance to prevent rainwater from entering the home. They didn’t usually make fires inside these structures, so many houses did not have any major openings for smoke ventilation. They were Not very strong against strong storms, but such is squid life, I guess. 

Digging into the sides of slopes were fairly common in both Inklings and Octolings. Inklings tended to dig shallower but more numerous holes to house multiple families within a small area. Octolings, who did not live in large communities, dug as deep as they were able to with the structure and ventilation in mind, in order to have Maximum Warmth during the winter months. Octolings burned fires inside their homes, so they tended to have higher ceilings and always had an opening somewhere to keep the smoke from suffocating them.

Deep vertical pit homes were built by Octolings, though they didn’t exactly prefer it. The roofs on their pit homes had to have a steeper slope in order to prevent snow from piling up during the winter and possibly causing it to collapse. It usually required help from neighbors to build as ancient Octolings preferred to live in smaller family units. (That probably led to some Neat Events and Cultural Stuff, but that’s a different rant)

There were other types of structures but these are the most standard and also I’m tired of drawing Architecture

Misc Stuff bc I don’t know how to organize the rest

Inklings formed larger multi-family tribes and divided up work among adult members. While the parents were expected to take the main responsibility for their own children, child rearing was still fairly communal and it wasn’t uncommon for larger tribes to have dedicated “babysitter” roles to take charge of the children. Youngsters weren’t explicitly asked to move out unless the territory was getting cramped, but many still tended to move to neighboring tribes.

Octolings on the other hand usually stuck to one family per territory, with the eldest surviving child inheriting the land (if more than one from the eldest clutch survived to adulthood, the clutchmates sorted out inheritance in their own way). They mostly kept to themselves for most of the year, and met up with neighbors (which tend to be close relatives anyways) to trade items, stories, and ask for help occasionally. Older teens/young adults moving out to start their own families were the absolutely most social folks around. There were expectations in place for youngsters passing through established territory, but they could usually expect some form of aid if asked for. Ancient Octolings weren’t hostile to strangers, they just didn’t like mingling All Of The Time like Inklings did.

Both Inklings and Octolings are carnivores, and (still) eat a mostly meat based diet. In ancient times before effective trade routes were established, those living near the ocean naturally depended more heavily on aquatic animals, while those living deeper inland subsisted mainly on birds and reptiles. In addition, Inklings and Octolings have enjoyed certain plant based foods as a treat throughout their existence. Inklings Fucking Love Fruit, but didn’t tend to eat much else plant wise. Octolings enjoyed fruits and berries as well, but they also went for the young shoots, leaves, stems, etc of certain plants during the spring, though possibly more for some ritual purpose than for the taste. They typically ground up these plants with stone tools to eat as a rough paste, as they have no teeth to chew and grind leaves with.

The study of the era of cultural exchange directly following this period had been obscured in awkward silence for the century after the Great War, but light is finally starting to be shed upon the subject once more. Pre-War material holds that when the two species started to meet, Inklings introduced domesticated pheasants to Octolings, and in turn Octolings taught Inklings how to make cloth and pottery. Agriculture was not practiced by either species until some time after early Inkling and Octoling societies had started intermingling, though there is evidence to suggest that both species had groups that had begun tending to existing patches of useful plants during this era. Pre-War consensus held that the development of "proper” agriculture was a direct result of coordinated cooperation between Inklings and Octolings.

As per usual, I do not know how to close this off. Thank u for reading this long ass thing

[minsimagines]

lead me home | werewolf!v

    summary: taehyung is a werewolf, and y/n knows wolves don’t belong in big cities.

   a/n: i had this laying in a folder on my comuter and thought i’d share, then i read through it and cried so here you go, lmao.

  words: 5k.

  WARNING: super angst. like, super super angst. you might cry, you’ve been warned. heartbreak. mentions of nudity, mention of sex, a bit of blood.

★ ⋆ ✰ ✦ ☾ ✮ ⁎ ★ ⋆ ✰ ☾ ⁎ ✦ ✮ ⁎ ☾ ★ ⋆ ✰

   You’d often find Taehyung by the window of your little apartment when you came home on the evenings, staring out at the city view, eyes glued to the mountains in the far distance. He’d brush it off as enjoying the scenery, that wonderful broad smile spreading over his lips almost distracting you, though you were left with a constant uneasy feeling in your chest.

   The insane amount of homework added with the part time job you had at a small 24/7 shop would often occupy your mind, and though you felt awful, it had to be done. You couldn’t live if you didn’t work, and you would be stuck at the little shop for the rest of your life unless you finished your studies. Though it felt like a hundred years away, there were three more years.

   Every day seemed to pass in a blur, everything melting together. The touch of his rough hands on your soft skin, his tight embraces and encouraging words, the sleepless nights, the late hours at the shop, the failed exams – you were about to go nuts. And it didn’t help that you felt so bad for leaving Taehyung by himself most of the day, and the feeling you had of stress from having to make time for him and your relationship as well.

   He’d always pull you away from your studying to help you focus – to give you a break. Just a couple of minutes, but he would help you breathe and calm down and whenever he did, you’d feel so calm, like you were unstoppable. He was amazing at helping you relax. Especially when you were too stressed to function and you didn’t remember to eat or sleep, and you hunched over your notes crying.

   “This is okay,” he’d whisper. “You’re strong and you’ll be fine, and you will do great even if the test didn’t go as planned.”

   His kind hadn’t been one to speak to show love, or any other emotion for that sake, and though he knew you needed verbal communication as well, he could always just look at you, and you’d know. He understood. He always understood.

   You’d watch Taehyung, as his mind drifted off, as he daydreamt of grass beneath his paws, of the smell of animals and flowers. You’d brush your fingers through his hair to calm him down after he jumped out of bed in the middle of the night, not understanding where he was. You’d crawl down from the bed when you awoke and found him asleep on the floor, and you’d sleep next against his body – the bed was too soft for him. You’d distract him when his skin and muscles were itching and yearning for a release and change you couldn’t even begin to fathom the pleasure of.    

   You’d drive him out into the countryside every full moon. To the top of the same hill, the open plains spreading out wide, ending in the forest off in the distance. That was where he went every time. You’d watch his grey fur as he ran through the tall, beige grass, his shape growing smaller and smaller until he was out of sight. There, he did what the animal in him needed to do – whatever that was.

   He never spoke about it and you didn’t ask. He may have been hunting, he may have been meeting some of his own kind – you had a feeling you’d never know. And had you not had this unease in your chest, you might have asked him, but you wanted him to be free for those few hours. Free of the city, free of hiding, free of… free of you.

   You knew, from the first time you’d seen his yellow eyes in between the trees as you visited your grandfather up on the mountains as a child, that you loved him. Maybe not in the way you did later on, but when you saw him for the first time, though foolish – you were not scared. You could not for the life of you figure out why; you had always had massive respect for wolves and other predators, yet his eyes had captured something inside you. He was only a puppy.

   Your grandfather told you that though he was a puppy, he was a wild predator and predators followed instincts. He’d warned you about the wolf, though you had seen him leave left over after dinner outside when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

   The young wolf had showed up outside of the cabin three evenings in a row, and on the fourth evening of your stay, as your grandpa had fallen asleep on the couch watching TV, you’d sat out on the bench in front of the house, watching the view of the valley below the cabin, short legs dangling. The river, the hills, the trees. The wolf had sat a bit behind you, watching the view with you. You’d noticed him, but you didn’t’ move. Didn’t say a word. You didn’t see him, though you heard him come. You knew he was there. When you turned, after the sun had set, he was gone.

   Whenever your grandfather was busy, or if he drove into town to buy groceries, you’d run outside in your rubber boots and you’d sit patiently in the grass, legs crossed, doll in hand. You’d let him approach you, and you’d let him nudge your knee with his snout. You’d throw your doll and he’d catch it and bring it back.

   You’d loved how free he was. How he ran around wherever he wanted. How he would chase birds and jump into puddles.

   You had seen the wolf again when you were an awkward teenager. He had even sat outside your room in the cabin a whole night, and you had sat in the deep windowsill, watching him, though you weren’t as adventurous as you had been as a child. You were more scared. It was a wild wolf, and you had no intentions of ending up as dinner.

   He’d saved you from being trampled by a frightened elk as you were taking a walk, trying to get reception on your phone. He’d ran in and shoved the elk out of the way with the side of his huge body, and though you had frozen in fear of the sight, his gaze clashed with yours as the elk ran off, and he had understood. He didn’t approach. He slowly backed away and disappeared between the trees once again.  ⋆

   “Are you hungry?” You asked Taehyung, who turned away from the view of the city and hit you with a dashing smile.

   “Always,” he muttered, striding over to you in the kitchen half of the small apartment. Hands wrapped around your waist, drawing a smile and a small chuckle from your lips at his words.

   “It’s the full moon tomorrow,” you said, trying to sound chirpy, yet the sour feeling in your chest was heavier than ever. He had spent more time by the window, more time touching you than he ever had, more time praising you, loving you and though you loved him to bits, it was making you dread your plan for the approaching full moon. This was your life. Not his.

   “I know,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your neck before he left you to make dinner. You always cooked – not because he didn’t want to help, but you liked it. Your mother had loved to make food, and making dinner made you feel somewhat closer to her, even if she wasn’t around anymore.

   “The neighbors are fighting,” he noted from the couch, eyes glued to the television. You were about to answer when you noticed he was watching a documentary about animals. An aching spread through your chest as you were once again reminded of how little he belonged in your world, and how much he probably missed his own.

   “Yeah?” You uttered, trying to sound like you normally did. His eyes had met yours in question, clearly picking up on the different tone. You’d cleared your throat and sent him a broad smile. It seemed to fool him as he smiled back to you and turned his attention to the TV again.

   “Yeah. She won’t have sex with him,” he said, and your eyes snapped towards him in surprise. Even after 7 months, you were still surprised at how straight forwards he was. Also, how keen his hearing was. And his other senses.

   “That’s… something,” you mumbled.

   “Hey, you know that uhm, those things you gave me yesterday? What are they called?” He asked, eyes peering over at you in curiosity. You glanced at him, though it hurt to do so.

   “The grapes?” You asked, turning your attention back to the food.

   “Yes, grapes,” he chuckled as he laid down, long legs kicking out on the couch. The sight, compared to him in the fields, had you looking away again.

⋆

   You’d driven to your grandfather’s cabin after he, together with your mother and father, had passed away in a car accident. It had been over a year since it happened, and you had finally gathered the courage and strength to take two weeks off to go up there to pack up the cabin and prepare it for new owners.

   You had forgotten about your childhood friend, though it all came back to you as you found those yellow eyes watching you from the shadows of the trees once again. He was still there, even bigger than you remembered; he’d grown massive, almost concealed by the darkness, though you could see his shape.

   Like when you were young, he would show up on the evenings, like a giant guard dog, watching over the house. You’d put out something for him to eat one night and had been happy to find the bowl empty the next day.

   You’d only found out about his human half when the wolf, that evening, came limping and bloody onto the property. You walked out to meet him in horror at his state, when his body had contorted, twisted in on itself. You were certain you could never forget the sight. On the ground before your feet laid a man, skin dirty and hair messy.

   His body had been almost torn apart with wounds as you, though scared, crouched besides him and gently brushed his brown bangs out of his eyes. They cracked open and looked at you in tired desperation, that same yellow still lingering in his human irises, though blended with a soft brown shade. His wounds were shaped like bitemarks and deep scratches.

   It took a while, but he managed to stumble into the cabin with your help, and you did the best you could with the little you had. You hadn’t brought any form of first aid up onto the mountain. You’d helped him into a pair of your grandfather’s old pair of pajama pants and onto the couch.

   You stayed awake by his side that night, brushing sweat away from his forehead and upper body with a cold cloth. He slipped in and out of consciousness, and each time he had tried to sit up in panic until his eyes met yours and he relaxed back down.

   He was gone when you woke up. Bright sunlight hitting your face, body resting against the couch. You’d gone outside right away, eyes darting around the field in front of you and down into the valley. On the bench laid your grandfather’s pants, neatly folded.

⋆

   “By the way, how did the test go today?” He muttered against your shoulder as he joined you in bed, his inhuman warmth engulfing your tired body.

   “I think it went better than the last one,” you whispered, turning to face him. His eyes glowed in the dark of the room, and you were spellbound.

   “You’re really beautiful,” you said, and though it was dark, you could make out the bright smile on his face.

    “Do you miss the mountain?” You asked. The words slipped out before you could stop yourself and you dreaded the answer. He was horrible at hiding his emotions, though he didn’t know he was, so when he lied; you knew – but he didn’t know you knew.

   “Sometimes,” he’d say, his eyes growing sad, though the smile was still there. “But I like being with you more.”

   You knew he meant what he had said, he would have never left with you unless he did. He wanted to be with you, and you knew that – but he had an instinct in him that would forever be stronger than anything a human could ever understand. He was a wolf, a wild predator, he wasn’t a dog meant to be kept in an apartment and let out every now and then – he was a magical creature. He wasn’t meant to be tame like this.

   “You can tell me if you do, you know,” you whispered, wanting him both to admit it and to lie to spare you from the pain. Both would hurt equally. “It was your home, after all.”

   “I…” he hesitated. You knew he did. It was a silly question. It was his home, of course he missed it!

   “I miss it,” he admitted. and you felt something, almost a relief washing over you. You had been right.

   “I want you to be happy,” he added, his voice tired, and you didn’t answer him. Your fingers running steadily through his hair.

   He fell asleep before you did, and your smile had long vanished. He was kicking his foot every now and then, and you knew he was dreaming of the grass.  ⋆

   He had come back that evening, as the sun was setting over the valley and you were crouched by a flowerbed by the wall of the cabin, picking at the weeds. You’d almost thrown your little shovel in the air in surprise at his appearance, though as you stood and looked at him, you couldn’t believe it was the same man that had been inside your cabin that whole night. His body was completely fine. Though red where the worst of gashes had been, he seemed to have healed and was left with only scars to tell the tale.

   “Hello,” you’d said, trying to sound confident.

   “Hello,” he’d replied, and you’d frowned at the state of his voice. It was deep and raspy, scratching at his throat as he spoke. He hadn’t spoken in a long time. You had wanted to ask what had attacked him, but you didn’t.

   You’d sat outside on the bench each evening, and he’d show up to accompany you. Some nights you’d talk, others you’d just sit and enjoy the view and sounds. You grew unbearably close. You’d known your departure was coming up in a few days’ time, but you’d also felt a pull towards him that you couldn’t understand.

   He’d told you he thought his name was Taehyung, though he wasn’t sure anymore, he hadn’t used a name since he was young. You’d smiled and said you loved it. The smile on his lips, after hearing your words, had almost knocked you out of your mind.

   He’d told you stories about where he was from, what he was. Stories that, had you not known better, you’d think were from another world. Magic and wonder, though you always had a feeling he was holding back. You never pushed him. He told you wonderful stories about soulmates and how every werewolf had one, and fairies who were not as friendly as our stories had them.

   His sweet nature, his goofy smile, his curiosity about anything you told him about, was drawing you closer and closer to him and you could listen to his deep voice day in and day out. He was straight forward, asking about you and why you were there, not really seeming to grasp the idea of the sadness of your family’s death, other than the fact that he had liked your old grandpa when he had been alive and that he missed the left overs he’d set out for him before he died.

   You had felt so lost when you realized you were falling in love with him, though you weren’t afraid; you knew your feelings were mutual. He wasn’t… shy.

   His animalistic approach to romantic gestures had caught you off guard. Not used to the norms of socialized humans, he leant into your neck one night, arms wrapping tightly around your body. Had you not felt like you were utterly safe in his hands, you might have pushed him off.

   You didn’t.

   He had asked you if it was alright, a whisper in your ear, and you had barely managed to nod your head in the trance you were in. He’d later told you he knew you wanted him to touch you. Said he could smell it on you. He could smell your desire.

   Sharp teeth had gently graced the skin on your throat, sending ripples of shivers through your body, which he seemed to enjoy very much. He had inhaled deeply, taking in your scent and was about to – had you not stopped him – rip your clothes to shreds. You’d pulled his face towards yours, your lips gently pressing against his. He had, at first, not understood what you were doing, though with a little guidance, he had come around.

   When you’d woken up the next morning, sky light blue in the sunrise, body nude and spent, though as happy as you’d ever been; he was gone again. Your heart had dropped to the bottom of your stomach as you’d stumbled into a pair of sweats and thrown a t-shirt over your head as you’d ran downstairs, tears welling on your eyes, only to see him outside on the bench. Running outside, you’d stood panting in distress, staring at him with desperate eyes.

   As if knowing exactly what you were feeling, he gave you a soft smile as he stood up. He was wearing your grandfather’s pajama pants, and though they fit him, you grew confused. He hadn’t wanted to wear clothes the whole week you’d known him as a human.

   “It’s today,” he had said, and you’d swallowed thickly, knowing exactly what he was referring to. The weeks, though it had felt like a decade, had ended.

  ⋆

   His sweet laugh had rung through the apartment as you entered the living room on midday, ready to leave for the countryside. It was the night of the full moon.

   His laugh was contagious, and he never laughed at the right times, though it made your heart soar with joy. He didn’t get jokes or puns, though he loved slapstick comedy. That, he understood. He understood anything physical.

    He wasn’t made for the city.

   “What are you watching?” You asked, leaning against the couch, trying to distract yourself from the heartbreaking thoughts running through your mind.

   “I don’t know,” he’d laughed, shaking his shoulders. You’d almost burst into tears, the pain in your chest making it hard to breathe properly, though you had to try; he would hear something was wrong if you weren’t breathing normally.

   Your wonderful protector. Your loving, beautiful Taehyung. Your magical and caring lover. You bit the inside of your cheeks, avoiding his eyes as you got ready to leave.

   You drove him through the massive city, through the crowded streets and the jungle of concrete and tall buildings. The ride was quiet. But not just the usual quiet; you could often spend hours in silence and not feel out of place. This silence was heavy. As if there were words that needed to be said between the two of you, clear as day, yet none of you dared to speak them out loud. Out through the suburbs and far into the quiet countryside, further than you’d ever driven before, you parked the car off road, and you stood by him on a hill by open plains and fields of tall grass as his eyes closed, head tilted back to smell the air.

   This was his life. Not yours. ⋆

   Once you had come over the initial shock of him not having left you, you’d nodded your head and whispered that yes, that day would be the last day in the cabin. You’d be leaving for the city again, and the cabin would be sold to someone else who wanted to take care of it.

   He’d begged you to stay. He’d begged you to be with him and let him protect you. His deep voice had brought fresh tears to your eyes, his vows and promises of hunting for you and helping you in any way he could, whatever he could do to make you stay there with him.

   You’d told him that you couldn’t. You had only those two weeks off, and you told him that it hurt just as much for you, but you couldn’t give up your life in the city. Your parents had paid for your university before they had passed away, and you couldn’t just drop out and leave the apartment behind. It would crush your heart to give up the closest thing you still had to them, the things they left behind, even if your feelings for Taehyung felt like something from another world.

   And he had hugged you so tight as you’d burst into tears, sobbing, torn in half. You’d found love, or what could become love, and you didn’t belong together. Taehyung, though a bit held back, convinced you to believe in it. He’d stroked your hair and reassured you, saying you were meant to be, but you had heard the hesitation in his voice even back then. You had refused to acknowledge it.

   “I promise I’ll come back and see you,” you’d uttered in a breath, on your knees outside your cabin. He was next to you, holding you. You’d pushed away to look up at him with tear stained eyes, knowing full well you weren’t going to be able to come back in a long time.

   “I’ll come with you,” he had muttered then, after a long pause. Your face had dropped in confusion. He would come with you? But he had nothing to go to, nothing he knew, nothing to do.

   “What?” You’d whispered, your tears halting.

   “I’ll come with you,” he repeated, sounding more certain the second time around.

   You had told him no. He was wild, he was of the forest and the grass and the wilderness, he wasn’t made to live in the city, and you had told him no. As much as you’d loved the idea of being with him, he was meant to be out in the wild.  

   Your words had only seemed to fuel him further. He wanted to go. He would go, he said. He would be with you. He wanted to be with you. He wanted to touch you and smell you and listen to your wonderful voice.

   After much debate, you’d made it clear to him that you did want the same thing, you just didn’t think he had really wanted to leave. You wanted to be with him more than anything.

   So, he came with you. He put on a sweater, and he helped you pack the car. You’d watched him with careful eyes. His strong body, covered by the clothes… you weren’t a pervert, but it just wasn’t right. It wasn’t him – he wasn’t human like you. You swallowed and bit it back, sending him a smile when he looked at you.

   He’d showered before you left, and you’d almost sent him out into the fields to roll around. You missed the patches of dirt on his cheeks and the wild waves of his messy brow hair, but you bit it back. He was still the same person. He was the wonderful, magical person you were falling in love with. And you convinced yourself it was the right thing to take him with you.

   It wasn’t that hard to incorporate him in the life of the city. He was curious by nature, and everything was entertaining. He loved all the flashing lights, all the sounds and the smells and all the strange people wearing strange clothes. He adapted fast, and he seemed to like it – and though you knew it wasn’t his life, you convinced yourself it could be. ⋆

   You stepped away from the car, your eyes wandering over the fields. This was it. This was the place. It was breathtaking, and it was closer to your grandfather’s cabin; he could find his way home from where you were standing. Turning to look at him, he was watching you with an expression you hadn’t seen before, though it made you feel warm and safe and you knew you had made the right decision.

   You stepped towards him, like you usually did before he changed, and you hugged him, wrapping your arms around his torso, pressing your palms against his upper back, squeezing your eyes shut. You breathed in deeply as he wrapped his arms around you, and ran his fingers through your hair, placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

   You stepped back and cupped his cheek with your hand. His eyes were soft. Understanding. He knew. It almost set you back, noticing the familiar gaze. He had known the whole time.

   He pulled his sweater over his head, folding it neatly in his hands, before he handed it to you. He did the same with his pants, and you held them to your chest. He never wore shoes.

   As his bones began to crack under the light of the full moon, you looked away as his beautiful face morphed to that of an equally breathtaking predator. The piercing eyes, the sharp claws and teeth; he could tear you apart in an instant, yet he never touched a hair on your body with anything but loving hands.  

   As the cracking receded, you turned to look at him with an aching chest. You didn’t need him to speak to know what his eyes were asking you. His big, yellow, loving orbs boring into yours, glowing in the dark. Your bottom lip quivered, and you bit down on it to conceal your emotions. With a small nod of your head, you curled your arms around the clothes tighter, telling him it was okay. Telling him to go. To be free.

   He gave you a deep nod of his big head, staring at you for a couple second longer, before he turned to run off. You watched him as he ran, his strong legs pushing away underneath him, his big form disappearing over the plains faster than any animal you had ever seen. Beautiful fur bouncing as he ran, glistening in the moon light. A shaky breath left your lips as your knees shivered under your weight, tears welling in your eyes, your heart breaking.

   You watched him run, and his bright smile flashed in your mind. His laugh, his touch, the wonder in his eyes as he spoke about the world, the wild and the freedom he was from. Where he belonged. Where he could live with his own kind. The way his fingers had desperately tried to braid your hair, the way his body pressed against yours when he was uncertain of the life in the city, the way his lips would leave your skin burning and tingling in pleasure, the way he never backed down from a challenge. He was free again now.

   You knew he understood. He always had. He knew this would happen as well, you were sure of it, though it didn’t make it easier. He knew you loved him, and he knew you would forever keep him in your heart just as he would keep you with him. The pain in your chest was impossible to describe; your whole body throbbed in pain as you watched him disappear into the forest far away, and it wasn’t long before you were sobbing against the ground.

   A sob wrecked through your body, a silent scream leaving your lungs. You could barely breathe as you cried, though you desperately wiped at your eyes, knowing this was the best for him. Knowing that if you stayed longer, you would be tempted to go after him, to be selfish and take him back. Beg him to hold you and tell you everything was going to be okay – but you had tried that already. You had taken him, and you had let him tell you things were going to be okay. He had left his world for you, yet it didn’t work. It wasn’t right.

   Tears blurring your vision, you pushed yourself off the ground, his clothes pressed to your chest. You held them up to your nose, taking in a deep breath of his scent, squeezing your eyes shut.

   They snapped open when the sound of a howl, his howl, broke through the air. You could see him, in the distance, on a small hill, barren of trees, howling towards the moon, and you somehow knew he was talking to you. You felt like he was besides you, holding you again, patting your head and telling you that you still loved each other. That love didn’t have to be this way or that way, and that you were both still alive. Telling you to live on, that he would be fine.

   Telling you to go. To be free.

[whitewolfandthefox]

Call of the Wild Part 5

Summary: Geralt tells you more of the actual reason he was in the forest near your home. You receive an unexpected visitor who bears some unnerving news.

Words: 5.2k

Series Masterlist (updated Saturdays)

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A/N. Here’s the next part, hope you enjoy! Like always, comments and love are appreciated, helps me stay motivated to keep writing. Likes and reblogs are always welcome, especially reblogs! Thank you to the darling @riviawitch3r who has been essential in the process. Enjoy babes!

The Catalyst

He has been trapping and murdering shapeshifters.

You felt your world stop at those words, the calmness that had manifested in you from the day shattering as fear took hold once more. You had known this revelation would make your life difficult, but you hadn’t imagined the level of danger that that one sentence identified.

You stayed where you sat, staring at Geralt as he looked back at the floor. A shiver ran through your body before you whined, slinking over to where he sat. Absently, he reached down and hooked his hand underneath your middle, lifting you to sit on the seat next to him. He left his hand in your fur, encouraging you to nuzzle against him, trying to draw comfort from the contact.

Geralt suddenly broke the silence. “Shapeshifters are a rare breed; not much is known about our kind. People, especially mages, have tried to study us and learn more but we guard our secrets fiercely. Most outsiders trying to learn about us don’t have good intentions. We have been finding murdered shapeshifters, and it looks like they’ve been used for experimentation and study.”

You felt sick, ears pulling back to tuck against your skull. “That’s why I was here in the first place; I had tracked the deaths to another village on the edge of this forest. We think it's a small group of people led by a sorcerer. We’re not sure why they are studying us, just that they have been taking shapeshifters at an alarming rate. My pack and I are investigating this; that’s who the letter is from. Yennefer, a mage in my pack, discovered new deaths yesterday and needs me to look into it. She thinks she's found where this group has been doing their experimentation.”

You whined lowly in the back of your throat, causing Geralt to look down at you. He stroked your head softly, before asking. “Can you change back?”

Closing your eyes as you focused, you drew the power up from below, allowing it to wash over you. When you opened your eyes again, you were sitting on the couch as Geralt observed you. You swayed as exhaustion surged through you, before righting yourself and looking up at Geralt expectantly. His lips quirked at the corners. “You are getting better at this.”

You shook your head to rid yourself of the phantom feeling of a muzzle. “It still feels weird, although I am not as drained.” You turned to face the man next to you. “Are you sure you have to go?”

He paused, searching for something in your face. Seeming to find it, he nodded, saying “I do. If I don’t look into this, no one else will and our kind will continue to be murdered.”

He lifted a hand to brush a strand of your hair out of your face. You caught his hand, bringing it to your mouth to press a kiss against his palm, causing him to start. “I just worry. If so many have died, what's to say they won’t hurt you too?”

His eyes flashed, “Are you worried about me, little fox?”

You hesitated, as the feelings you had been ignoring bubbled back up. You had no idea where they were coming from, you hadn’t even known this man for a week and yet there was an undeniable connection between the two of you. Looking down, you whispered, “I am. I don’t know why, but there is some feeling telling me something is going to go wrong.” You glanced up at him with fear in your eyes. “I have been having dreams.”

“Dreams?” he asked sharply, “of what?”

“They have just been flashes,” you shook your head. ”Different animals, a dark castle. Blood, pain, a feeling like I’m running from something. Geralt, it scares me.”

He laced his fingers with yours. “You don’t have to be scared, little fox. Our community is very protective of each other. Any shapeshifter you find will help you, if that’s what you’re worried about. That being said, a shapeshifters instincts are one of their best weapons. Listen to them; if you are worried about something, be wary of your surroundings.” 

Unable to find the words to describe your feelings of fear, you just nodded your head and gave his hand a light squeeze.

Hesitantly, he glanced away before looking back over at you, “You could come with me.” You turned your head sharply, shocked at his offer. “Join my pack, run with me. We could keep you safe.”

You were silent, turning your gaze to look out the window. “It’s not safe for lone shapeshifters; too often we are discovered, turned on by friends and family, betrayed by those we thought we could trust. They don’t understand what we are.”

“Not here. My people won’t abandon me. My home, my life, is here in this village, Geralt. I grew up here, have watched the children grow up here. I was there when some of them were born. I can’t just up and leave. People need me.” You were certain of this, not meeting his gaze as you looked off into the distance, towards the little village you had made your home for most of your life. “As much as I would love to join you, I can’t leave this behind.”

“I don’t need an answer now, little fox.” A hand reached under your chin, lifting your face so you met his golden eyes. “It is a dangerous world for our kind, and I only think of your safety when I ask. Somehow, secrets get out and people turn against us. I have seen it time and time again. Friends turn against you and drive you out, betraying you though you help them.” 

His eyes were haunted as he spoke, memories flickering across the surface. He refocused on you. “I would also like for you to be near me,” he rumbled, “to have you close, be able to hold you at night. Think about it, my little fox, and answer me when I return. You can meet the rest of my pack, and maybe that will help you with your decision.” 

Turning away from you, he stood and searched through his saddlebags before coming up with the dagger that you had stolen from him earlier. He handed it to you without a word, closing your fingers around it when you tried to refuse it. “Please, for me.” Looking into his eyes, seeing the fear for you in them, you finally relented, grasping the dagger in its sheath and letting your arm drop to your side. You followed him as he gathered his belongings and headed out the door, slinging them over his mount, stopping in the doorway to watch him.

Geralt tugged on the straps of his saddle, making sure everything was secure before he returned to where you stood, arms wrapped around your middle, posture defeated. He gently swept a piece of hair back from your face, gazing softly into your eyes. “Don’t fear for me little fox, I have lived a long time and faced more dangerous people than this.” 

As you gazed into his golden eyes, you felt slightly more assured that the man you had come to care for would be safe. The emotions you had been suppressing came back full force, astounding you at the strength of feelings you had for him. Seeming to sense this, Geralt leaned down, hesitating just slightly before he brushed his lips against your forehead, pulling back to lean your foreheads together briefly before lifting his head once more. 

With that, he turned and mounted Roach, glancing back at you standing in your doorway as he passed through the gates. “I shall only be a few days; my pack is not far from here. I will be back in no time. Think of my offer, Y/N, don’t just brush it aside.” You lifted your hand in farewell, watching him until he disappeared between the trees, before going into your house and dropping into a chair, your mind whirling at his last request.

Go with him? How could I, my village needs me. I am the only healer, people would suffer without me. They would never cast me out, my people know me.

He said he wanted me near him.

Pushing the dangerous thoughts from your head, you headed back inside. Entering your workroom, you began cleaning the materials left over from Geralt’s treatment. As you gathered the bandages you had cut off of him, you caught a whiff of his scent, musky and earthy, and your eyes filled with tears. He had just left, and already you were missing your presence. Shaking yourself, you dumped the used bandages and materials into your disposal bin before heading to your kitchen. You puttered there for a while, making yourself dinner and then cleaning up, ignoring the feelings that bubbled up in your chest at seeing the extra set of dishes you had unthinkingly pulled out.

Thoughts and doubts whirled through your head. You wanted to go with Geralt, but your life was here. How could you just up and leave? Your parents were buried here, your friends lived in town.

You stood abruptly and paced towards your gate, heading to the forest. You needed to go for a walk, that always helped clear your head. Wandering through the forest, you allowed the scents and sounds to soothe you, stripping away your anxiety and your stress. You walked faster, and faster, until you were running, enjoying the feeling of freedom that came with it, trees flying past you as you sprinted.

When you felt the power swell within you, you didn’t deny it. Instead, you allowed your magic to surge through you, your body dropping forwards as you continued running, only now on four legs instead of two. Your vision became sharper, the smells stronger. You could hear the heartbeat of some small rodent in the trees. Veering off the path, you raced towards the sound, relishing in the exhilaration that accompanied your chase. You pounced, missing when the animal darted into a small hole in the base of a tree. Slowing, you snuffled around the edge.

You froze at the sound of something large stepping on a branch, lifting your head and searching for where it came from. Your tail bushed, fur standing on end as you listened for footsteps, a heartbeat, anything that would identify the large predator that your senses were trying to warn you of. You dropped low to the ground, crawling into the ferns, feeling like there were eyes burning into your skin.

You stayed there for what felt like hours, listening for any movement that might give their position away. Slowly relaxing, you shook yourself. Silly, you scolded, just because Geralt said there was a sorcerer out there doesn’t mean you are always in immediate danger.

Taking off again, you wandered through the forest, watching the birds fly high above you. The urge to snap and pounce at them crept up on you, forcing you up the base of a tree into its branches.

You explored for what felt like hours, climbing trees, crawling through the underbrush, chasing rodents. The sun was below the horizon and the moon just peaking over the treeline when you finally trotted back to your house. You shifted back before locking your door and heading to your bathroom, stripping down to wash yourself.

You flopped into bed, exhausted from everything that had happened that day. You were still unsure, but your mind was quieter now, letting you succumb to sleep quickly.

**~*~*~*~**

A shadowy figure looked furtively over its shoulder as it slipped into a dark alleyway. A glowing circle appeared in the air, before another form stepped out. “She’s one of them.”

A small bag changed hands, a clinking sound ringing through the air as the second figure stepped back through the portal, the first turning and heading back down the alleyway, glancing into the street before slipping away in the shadows.

**~*~*~*~**

The clearing was calm when Geralt rode in, stopping and dismounting from Roach before tying her to a tree. He could see Yennefer’s tent set up on the far side, with the remains of a campfire in the middle surrounded by logs. It was there that he found Jaskier, sitting and quietly strumming his lute while singing softly to a mostly grown lion cub who was dozing on the ground next to him. Jaskier nodded to him as he passed, continuing to play the instrument in his hands. The lion lifted its head, blinking blearily at the man and yawning, revealing its sharp teeth. Geralt dropped a hand on its head and continued on his way, the lion putting its head back down and peering at Jaskier.

Approaching the tent, he ducked underneath the flap as he entered. He spotted Yennefer across the larger than normal space, striding towards her to join her at the table. She glanced up at him and greeted him with a tight, closed-lip smile before looking back down at the map in front of her. Geralt looked down, seeing the small ‘x’s laid out across the nation. He glared at the new batch closest to where they were staying.

“He got another three?” he rumbled, glancing over at the woman next to him. She nodded sharply. “We know he is still in the area though, they disappeared less than a fortnight ago.”

Geralt hummed, shifting his feet. “We need to find him; there have been too many deaths. Too many shapeshifters gone. It’s not safe for our people.”

Yennefer shot him a sharp glance, “You’ve never much cared to get involved before, Geralt, what changed your mind? Speaking of which, where have you been? You said you would be back yesterday.” 

He glared at her. “I was detained by an unexpected occurrence.”

“And what would that be? You don’t typically get laid up for that long.” At his silence, she sniffed the air, her eyes widening at the smell. “Were you injured, Geralt? I can smell herbs and insectoid oil.”

Geralt caught her hands as she went to look him over for injuries, “I was injured, Yenn, but not anymore. I met another shapeshifter, a healer. She treated me, I’m fine now.” She pulled her hands back, satisfied with that answer.

“Where is she?”

“Excuse me?”

“Where is she?” Yennefer repeated, “It’s not like you to leave lone shapeshifters by themselves. You normally take them back to our community.”

Geralt stared hard at her, “Who said anything about a lone shapeshifter?

“You said her, not them. Normally you say the pack took you in. So again I ask, where is she? Especially with this sorcerer running around, it  is dangerous for our kind to be out on their own.” Yennefer ran her fingers over the map absently as she continued to look at Geralt, waiting for an answer.

Tense, Geralt turned away from her, looking back at the map on the table. “she wasn’t sure if she wanted to leave or not. I’m going to return in a few days to get her answer.

Sensing that this mystery woman was a touchy subject for the witcher, Yennefer changed the subject as she shared what new information she had discovered. “All of his kills have radiated out from this spot,” she tapped a spot near where they were camped. “I think that this is where he must be basing his research. Tomorrow we should pack up and head that way, see if we can find anything there.”

Geralt hummed his agreement before turning and stalking out of the tent, heading back to where Roach was to unsaddle her and get settled for the night.

**~*~*~*~**

A dark castle, terror, running through the forest. You had to get away, he was going to kill you. Geralt! Help me! A wolf’s golden eyes staring at you before turning and walking away, followed by a lion. A raven, swooping through the air.  Torches, pitchforks, an angry crowd yelling as you desperately scrambled away. You couldn’t breathe. Please, someone! Help!

Pain

Burning

Fear

You woke with a violent start, shooting up to a sitting position, gasping for air. The dreams were back again, you had had them two nights in a row now, ever since Geralt had left. You sat there, trying to control your breathing. As it slowed, you glanced outside. The sun was high in the sky now; you had slept late, past noon.

Shaking yourself, you emerged from your cocoon of blankets, dressing yourself and heading for the kitchen to eat a late lunch. As you finished and were cleaning the dishes, you became aware of footsteps approaching your door. Drying your hands, you set your cloth to the side and headed to the door, hearing your visitor knock on your way there.

Opening the door, you were greeted with the sight of your friend Kiala. You grinned at her before your face fell at her expression. “Is everything ok? Am I needed in the village?”

Her eyes quickly searched the yard before she turned to you, face pinched, mouth set in a hard line. “Y/N, can I come in?”

“Of course,” you stepped back from the entranceway to let her into your house, sweeping the trees around your house for anything out of the ordinary before closing the door. You led her to the couch where you both sat.

“What is it, Kiala? What has happened?” She burst into tears. Startled, you reached for her hands, drawing them into your lap. “What is it? What is wrong? Is someone hurt? Kiala, please, speak to me.”

“They are coming to kill you,” she sobbed. You froze at her words, “Vissen saw you in the forest. He said you were a witch, that you had magical powers and have enslaved the town. That you could turn into a great beast, he saw you kill animals in the forest. They are coming to drive you out or kill you, I didn’t wait to hear what they decided.”

Betrayal. 

Fear.

Kiala continued babbling, unaware of your reaction. “You’re not a witch, are you? You’ve been in this town since you were a little girl! You were there when I gave birth, how could they think this? Tell me it's not true, tell me they’ve lost their minds.”

Your thoughts whirled, Geralt's words coming to mind. Somehow, secrets get out and people turn against us. I have seen it time and time again. Friends turn against you and drive you out, betraying you though you help them. His face had been sad when he spoke, as if he knew this would happen.

Kiala had fallen silent, noticing your distraction. She squeezed your hands gently, staring at your face. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t meet her gaze. “Not in the way that he has been describing it.” You felt her pull her hands away, the motion striking at your heart. You could smell something bitter in the air, slowly growing stronger the longer the two of you sat.

You lifted your head, eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t know, I swear.” Standing abruptly, you took two steps away from the couch, arms wrapped around your middle, shoulders hunched as if to ward off an incoming blow. You glanced at her, the tears starting to spill over.

Seeing your pain, Kiala reached a hand towards you, catching herself at the last second. “You didn’t know what?”

Turning slowly, you stared at a spot over Kiala’s head, refusing to meet her eyes. “I have the ability to heal, not just with potions. I only found out two days ago, when I came across an injured man in the forest. I didn’t know! I can’t use spells, cast curses, I can only heal! And I don’t even know how to use that power!” You didn’t mention your shapeshifting abilities, too afraid of what your friend would think.

Kiala stood from the couch, cautiously approaching you. When you didn’t move, she wrapped her arms around you, bringing your head to rest on her shoulder. You burst into tears, gripping her shift in your hands, your whole body shuddering as you sobbed at the feeling of heartbreak and betrayal. She shushed you, swaying back and forth to soothe you as if you were a child.

As your breathing calmed, she pulled back to regard you. “What else is there?”

You stared at her, your expression shuttering so as not to reveal your emotions. She smiled gently, “Y/N, you are one of my oldest friends. That’s not everything. Vissen mentioned you turned into a beast as well. Now, I don’t know that I believe that, but it’s not just healing that you can do.”

Your grip on her clothes tightened as you put your head back on her shoulder, breath shuddering out of you as you tried to suppress another sob. “It's a fox.” You felt her shift beneath you but she didn’t say anything at your words. “I have the ability to shapeshift, but I change into a fox, not a beast! And I wouldn’t hurt anyone, I haven’t killed anything! I would never, I’m a healer! I help preserve life, not take it!”

Again, you burst into tears. Kiala’s hand came up to rest in your hair as she walked the two of you backwards to sit back down on your couch. She held you as you cried, comforting you, providing silent support.

Cried out, you slowly released yourself from her embrace, looking up to meet her eyes with a sad smile. “They won’t believe me, will they?”

Kiala hesitated, before shaking her head. “I don’t know, love. Vissen has whipped them all into a frenzy. They are coming tonight; to do what, I don’t know.”

“Then I have to leave.” You looked around the room in sadness. You loved your little home, it was all you needed in life. You had grown up in this home, helped your first patient here. Your parents had built this house when they first arrived at the village. You could feel your heart shattering at the prospect of leaving it behind.

“Where will you go?” Kiala’s voice broke through your reverie. A moment of panic rushed through you at the thought of having nowhere to go. You could come with me, Geralt’s voice spoke in your head.

“You remember how I told you about healing a man and that’s how I discovered my magic?” At her nod, you continued. “He is one of my kind as well, another shapeshifter. He offered for me to run with him. I think I will go find him.”

“But how will you know where he is?” As she voiced this thought, you faltered. How would you find him?

“He said he would come back for me in a few days. I will hide in the forest until he gets here.” As you spoke, a sense of sureness filled you, comforting you that the decision you were making was the right one. You glanced out the window; the sun was setting. You needed to get going quickly if they were coming to your house tonight.

Kiala seemed to sense your unease, offering you a sad smile as she stood, pulling you up and into a hug. “Be careful,” she whispered in your ear, “I will try and delay them as long as I can.

You drew back, grabbing your friend’s upper arms in panic. “No! You mustn’t do that, they will only think you are in league with me. I will be fine. But go now, before anyone sees you visiting me.” You drew her back in for another embrace, both of you crying into each other’s shoulders at the prospect of separating. Finally, you drew back and ushered her out your door, wishing her a safe journey home.

After locking your door you stood in the middle of the room, feeling waves of emotions wash over you. Betrayal, panic, heartbreak were just some of the feelings whirling through you. You collapsed to your knees, letting out a scream before breaking down into sobs.

**~*~*~*~**

“There’s a beast in our village! It has been living amongst us, feeding off of us. How are we to know it hasn’t already enslaved us, forced us to do its bidding?”

Vissen paced in front of the crowd of villagers, a torch grasped in his hand. The villagers in front of him murmured, shifting amongst themselves, some gripping various makeshift weapons.

“It's probably replaced our children with it’s own demonic offspring! A beast like that knows nothing other than slaughtering and fighting. I saw it with my own two eyes! It was running through the forest, killing animals left and right! How long until it comes for our livestock? Our homes? We have to drive it out now, before it can do any more damage! Before it can get to our children!”

At this, the villagers started yelling, catcalling, “Kill the beast!” “It can’t stay here!” “We need to protect our children!”

Vissen jumped up onto a nearby cart, lifting his torch high. “To the forest! We'll kill it tonight!” he roared, turning and leading the way up the road to your house.

**~*~*~*~**

You had been packing the last of your things when you heard shouting outside of your house, coming up the path to your gate. You steeled yourself, preparing to try to reason with the people one last time. These were your friends, your family, you couldn’t believe that they had turned on you so quickly. 

Opening the door gently, you stepped outside before blanching at the crowd - no, mob - that stood outside your gate. Upon seeing you, they all froze in place. You stared at them, at the weapons in their hands, and felt your heart break a little more. Kiala is right, they have turned on me. 

There was a commotion in the crowd before Vissen pushed himself to the front. He spat on the ground by your yard, “Well, bitch? What have you to say for yourself?”

Shocked at his words, you recoiled into yourself. “What have I ever done, Vissen? Any of you, why are you doing this? What do you believe that you come with your torches and your swords?”

 The crowd shuffled, falling silent before a shout came from the back.

“You’re a witch! You’ve enslaved our children!”

A chorus of agreement followed those words.

“You’re a beast, you’ll kill us all in our sleep!”

You frantically looked around, searching for a friendly face, for someone that you knew who might be able to help you. You found none, only seeing the smirk on Vissen’s face that slowly grew as the crowd got louder.

You never saw who threw the first rock, but you instinctively ducked out of the way, hearing the window next to you smash. The crowd surged forward as you turned to run, darting for the back of your house to try to escape into the forest.

You didn’t make it three steps before you felt a rock strike you between your shoulder blades, forcing a cry from your throat as you stumbled and fell to the ground. Immediately the mob was on you, hands pulling your hair, striking your arms, shouting curses at you.

Heart beating fast, you curled into a ball as you tucked your arms above your head to try to protect yourself. Tears streaming down your face, you again cried out as you felt a foot connect with your ribs.

The pain forced you deep within yourself, reaching blindly for that warm well of power, it calling and reaching back to you. You dove into it, coating yourself in a feeling of comfort as a wave of warmth surged over you.

When you opened your eyes, the villagers had drawn back from you, the moment of silence broken when Vissen stepped forward.

“See? I told you, she turns into a beast!” he howled, bending down to pick up another rock, slinging at you as he straightened. You whimpered, dancing to the side to avoid the projectile before turning and racing for the woods as you heard the mob come to life behind you.

You could hear the villagers calling for someone to grab you, to hurt you, to kill you. You could feel your heart breaking in your chest, betrayal washing over you, but you forced yourself to continue running, ignoring the pain from where you had been struck.

You dashed through the underbrush, finding a tree with lower branches, digging your claws into the bark, racing up the trunk and onto a branch. Hearing the mob searching through the forest, you lowered yourself to your belly, creeping along the branch to where it passed another one, leading to a taller tree. You crawled over to the junction of a branch and the trunk, just big enough to hold your body.

You collapsed into the space, curling your tail tight around yourself with your ears pressed against your head, shaking as you could hear the villagers running through the trees and shouting to each other.

Finally safe, you allowed yourself to break, the feeling of heartbreak and betrayal washing over you. Geralt was right, they never would have accepted me as I am. They turned so fast, didn’t listen to a word I had to say. Me, who birthed their children, cared for them when they were sick. Me, someone who did all I could to help them and heal them when they were in pain.

The exhaustion finally beat the fear, pulling your mind beneath its blanket of darkness as you fell unconscious, finally succumbing to the pain of your various injuries.

**~*~*~*~**

You lay there until the stars were high in the night sky. Heaving yourself into a sitting position, you forced yourself to take stock of your situation. You needed to return to your house to gather what you could. You crept closer to the trunk, slowly descending as you listened for any sign that the mob was still near before taking off towards your home, staying low in the underbrush to avoid detection.

Reaching your house, you shifted back to your human form, staggering at the change, still not used to the difference between forms. Going into your room, you changed out of your dress into a pair of trousers and a tunic that you normally wore for travelling. 

Gathering your most essential belongings you dropped them on your couch before going in search of a bag. As you packed, you glanced at the dagger that Geralt had given to you before strapping it to your waist. You froze at the sound of a door creaking, slowly dragging the dagger from the sheathy you had just placed at your side.

You felt a cloth cover your mouth as a strong arm went around your waist, a bitter smell overcoming your sense. You struggled, kicking at the body behind you as you tried to bite the hand covering your mouth. You reached down into yourself, racing towards that well of power, almost reaching it before you felt your body falling as the world went dark.

**~*~*~*~**

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[pucapu]

Another day went by... #5

[ Please Read ]

5 - Meditation

Afternoon was always the best time for a break.

The sunlight shone so high, causing the water to be rather warm today. He had been practicing his ninja skills ever since this morning. He woke up around 5 today, pretty much early than usual so, he had been doing his routine and practicing a lot of things and he thought it’s the time for him to take a break now.

He didn’t go to the restaurant today and called for the deliveries instead as he wanted to focus on practicing. Abyo came visiting him before lunch, asking if he wanted to join his lunch but of course he denied. When, Abyo shrugged and disappeared from the forest, Dada, the 14-year-old boy came delivering his lunch— much to his surprised. Since she usually did the deliveries things. He didn’t ask, but Dada mentioned about how many customers the restaurant had today. The boy sighed and told the story of his clumsiness that made them sent him to do delivery jobs instead.

“Pucca was very busy running around too,” said Dada

“She must be tired lately; everyone was worried though she acted as if she’s fine”

Dada shook his head talking about how Dandy took over a lot of jobs from Pucca so she could rest but she stubbornly refused to do so. That’s the way she was. Very stubborn indeed. He received the noodles from Dada and gave him a pat on the shoulder. Then, Dada left and when the sound of the motor disappeared, the forest was silent once again. The afternoon breeze blew soft to carry away the heat from the sun.

He sat on the porch stairs in front of his door and ate his lunch. Mio, his little friend meowed for attention and rubbed against his legs. He finished his meal quickly and got up on his feet, calling out for Mio to come along. He was going to meditate this afternoon. With the calming wind and soothing sun, it’s indeed a perfect time to do so.

 It didn’t take long for him to get to one of his best spots for meditation. He changed spots a lot because of— you know— her. But after sometimes he would come back to the same spot since it’s his best spots for a reason. This one was on a small hill, where he could get to feel the cool afternoon breeze and saw the sunset clearly in the evening.

He found his good spot under the big tree and sat down. Mio found his place and imitated him. Then, they both started the meditation.

When his mind and his thought calm and clear, he would forget the time. He didn’t know how long he was meditating before someone arrived. He didn’t move or opened his eyes as the sound of footsteps drew closer. He felt that Mio had moved and purred indicating that the newcomer was a friend not a foe, then the wind blew and brought the certain odor of the person to him. He knew right that instance, it was her.

He almost flinched when she sat down right beside him, and he debated with himself whether he should get up and ran or not. Mio purred, satisfying with whatever she did to him. Curious, he peeked one of his eyes open to look at them and saw her petting his little friend. The little one seemed please as he climbed up on her laps and found the good spot there to rest. Soft giggled escaped her lips as she stroked the soft black fur of Mio.

She didn’t seem like tackling him with hugs or attacking him with kisses today rather, she seemed like she wanted to enjoy the calm breeze like him. So, he studied her for a moment. She looked tired— no, exhausted— Dada was right, she didn’t look so good. She didn’t even redo her buns as it’s currently messed up. Her shoulders slumped and she didn’t look as bright and cheerful as usual. He started to wonder if she’s going to get sick soon.

He closed his eye once again and lost in his thought— mostly about the girl next to him. And yes, he’s worried. He wouldn’t admit to anyone out loud that he worried about her, but it’s the truth. He hadn’t been in the village often this week since that bright blue hair girl came to live here. Another girl and another crush on him, he almost sighed. He glad that at least nobody came to find him except for the one next to him right now— she could find him every single time no matter where he went or hid. He didn’t know how she could manage that, but it had to be her finding him first. Though, sometimes he did hang out with her just like right now.

The weight on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts. This time he opened his eyes and saw she had rested her head on his shoulder. One of her hand still rested on Mio’s fur, who already sleep soundly and she, too, seemed to be drifting away in a peaceful sleep. His body tensed up a bit by the sight and didn’t what to do. She looked so tired; he didn’t want to wake her up, but her resting her head on his shoulder was also—

He let out a soft, quiet sigh, deciding to go back to his meditation and pretended she wasn’t there with him.

The tint of red appeared on his cheeks.

Only nobody was there to see it.

 The sun was almost set when she opened her eyes and jolted to full awake. Mio shrieked in surprise, jumping so high he almost touched the ceiling. She couldn’t help but chuckled, then freeze. Wait, what? Mio?

She blinked twice and started to look around only to realize it’s not her room and she wasn’t in Goh-Rong but his house. She racked her brains back to the last memory before she gave in to tiredness. She remembered everyone in the restaurant keep pushing her to rest, saying she’s still so young and supposed to be playing with her friends by this time of the day. But the customers were packed, causing everyone to be busy and she just wanted to help. Then, Ching and Abyo stopped by and trying to drag her out of the restaurant.

With Dandy’s another push, they succeeded in bringing her out. So, she just sighed and hanging with the two for a while. They were visiting Garu, only to find that his house was empty. So, they split up to find him and somehow, she did? Seeing him so calm and relax on the hill, under the big tree kind of soothing her mind and she felt a sudden tiredness, so she walked up to sit next to him. Mio played with her for a moment and his soft fur just made her imagined burying her face in a fluffy pillow and before she knew it— everything was shut.

Garu brought her to his home? That’s so like and unlike him? Well, of course he would help anyone in needed, but this was not anyone but her. He never invited her into his house before and now this. She was happy of course, to know that he's care about her but also confused. Well, all in all she’s pleased and delighted.

The smell of herbs touched her nose. It made her relax. As she got up out of his bed, Mio meowed, and she petted his head as this lovely boy seemed to need attention. She felt more refreshing now, but she needed to go back to Goh-Rong before her uncles started to worry. She walked around in his house for a moment, but couldn’t find him anywhere. Maybe he went outside to run another errand? She sighed. Feeling a little disappointed, but oh well since she couldn’t thank him with a kiss or hug, then she should tidy up his bedroom a bit and of course, feeding Mio.

When she finished doing so, there was a knock on the door. Surely, that wasn’t Garu since this was his house, but she was about to head out after all, so she opened the door— to meet Ching.

“Hello, Pucca” Ching didn’t seem surprised to meet her best friend here.

Before she could make a gesture telling her friend the owner of the house wasn’t here, she grinned and cut her halfway.

“Yes, yes. I’m not here for Garu. I’m here for you!” Ching giggled. “You see, Garu told me to escort you back to your place since he needed to help Abyo and his dad a little. He’s running late, so he sent me.”

She gasped and Ching chuckled.

“What do you say, Pucca?”

She still didn’t really believe it though her cheeks already turned red. She shyly cupped her cheeks and Ching laughed.

“Oh Pucca, see, I told you that you should relax once in a while so something good like this could happen!”

She knew Ching was trying to get her out of her work, but at this moment she couldn’t refuse, and Ching smiled, holding one of her hands out so they could walk hand in hand back.

“Hmm?” Ching peeked inside when her friend closed the door behind…

 Since when did Garu’s house smell like herbs?

A/N: Sorry for the delay! As I’m not very satisfied with the first version of this chapter. So, I rewrote it causing it to be 2 – 3 days delay. Still, I hope you enjoy this chapter! And I’m gonna say here that there’ll be no new chapter this weekend but a drawing log instead! Until next time :)

Ps. I’m suck at drawing animal and I think I drew them older than their age again ; w ;

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[imnotwolverine]

Field of dreams

Henry Cavill x OC Lisa - multi-chapter fic

Author’s note: The Scottish highlands, some bear tears and a whole lot of (outdoor) loving. 

Word count: 4.432

Disclaimer: fluff and smut

--

This is part 19 of the Tea for Two series. 

Find the Masterlist here. 

--

< Go back to part 18

Tall wet grass blades licked my calves as my rain boots plowed through dewy fields, the tiny water drops sparkling in the light of a watery sun as it slowly rose over the steep Scottish hills.

It was about 7 am and the world around us was slowly waking up, its wild scenery conjuring itself up from the stormy dark of the night before. It had rained all night and the animals were glad to be out and about again. Birds chirped their morning song, supple wings carrying them with grace through the rain heavy skies, while a few big Scottish highlanders mooed at me and Kal.

Henry had left for an early start at work - I don’t know how that man could be such an early bird -, so it was just the two of us as we slowly trodded to the set that lay a few miles north of the cottage we resided in.

After months of jet setting through the hustle and bustle of large cities, it was almost unsettling to not have a single person around for miles.

What if something happened? What if I got hurt?

I pushed the thought aside as I was greeted by Kal’s wet nose pressing into my hand, his big paws quickly zooming past me as he continued to pee on every rock and tree he could find.

I smiled, taking a deep breath.

Scotland was every bit as beautiful as the pictures I had seen in magazines. It was raw, wild and fantastically beautiful. Like a painting, the landscape oozed “magic”. Lush greenery, with speckles of rock, yellowish moss and the occasional abandoned ruin that once had been the homestead of some civilisation long gone. The wind licked at our hairs, pulling it wildly back and fro as little misty drops of water kissed our faces. A remainder of the previous down pour.

Even the smell was something out of this world. It lay almost thick in your lungs, so fresh and earthy, the wet grass mixing deliciously with the muddy earth and the warm wool vest that was snuggly wrapped around me. It almost smelled like…home.

Home, in my case, being a rural area in the Netherlands, its outstretched flat landscape housing more cows and sheep than humans. My whole youth I had spent cycling and walking through similar green fields. Be it to go to school. Or the small supermarket. Or friends. Always there was this vast landscape enveloping me, making me feel ever so small and insignificant. It had been humbling, for sure, and even to this day it reminded me to humble as a human being.

And sure enough it had not only been the land, but also my mom.

As my rubber rain boots slushed through the grass I could almost hear her voice again..her never ending rambling as we walked the dog at an eerily early hour of the day. A moment we both cherished dearly. She, because she could talk without being nagged by her annoying colleagues or my grumpy dad. I, because I enjoyed listening to her while I slowly woke up from my dream-laden sleep, my jaw cracking open in large, relaxing yawns.  

And just like Kal did, our border collie would zip through the tall grass, chasing down small animals and doing his business before quickly rushing back to greet us with a happily lolling tongue.

I could also remember the last time we walked together, before I moved out to “the big city”. Her words still regularly swam through my mind in a moment of quiet.

‘Never forget I love you. Never forget I’ll be here for you. And most importantly: never forget to be there for yourself. Know it is okay to find things frightening. But don’t let it hold you back. Embrace it. Study it. Question it. And you will find it isn’t quite so scary at all. It is just..new!’

I had cried that day, for the first time in years. I had been scared, even though I sure as hell didn’t want to stay at home forever. I did want to grow up. I did want to live a life of my own. I did want to discover the world. It was just that the first step was particularly hard.

Now, some ten-ish years later, here I was. In the Scottish highlands. Walking the dog of the man I loved more than I thought possible. And I was discovering a new bit of the world every day. I was living my own life.

Sure, I was still scared at times. But that was okay.

Being scared was okay..come to think of it.

Just a week ago we sure had a scary moment. Or should I say new and exciting? As the days progressed the experience of a false alarm pregnancy was slowly turning from a shock into a new sense of wonder. Would I ever be a mom? Would I ever have a child of my own? To talk with him or her while our feet trampled through tall wet grass, a dog skirting our sides? Was that really such a scary idea?

Perhaps not.

It was just new.

Yes. New.  

My eyes picked up the glistening of something. I peered into the distance and realised it were aluminium roofs. The set! My heart thumped in excitement as I felt a slow smile creep up my cheeks. Moving further up the hill I got a better view of the small encampment of trailers, tents and trucks that were scattered amidst some old ruins. Just another mile or so and we could start another day of “something new”. Something new not being human babies, but a new season of the Witcher.  

—

All day I hadn’t seen or spoken to Henry. Which was slightly frustrating, sure, but I could quickly put those feelings aside as work had started to pick up pace. More trucks arrived, schedules needed to be adjusted to fit weather forecasts and set pieces needed saving from the never ending flurry of rain showers. This was what I liked most. Hands-on, hard work.

Before long the day was drawing to an end. It was 6pm and the crew had just finished packing and securing everything in containers, the night shift starting soon.

Also, at long last, I had managed to get a hold on Henry, who was just getting out of a costume fitting, his tumble of dark curly hair slightly dishevelled as he walked up to the car.

‘Hi there handsome.’ I smirked, leaning against the back of the SUV, my feet sunken away in an inch of mud. He came up to me and Kal and smiled a quiet smile before placing a kiss on my lips and scratching Kal behind the ears, his other hand rummaging through his pockets to look for the car keys. Not being able to find them at once, he furrowed his brow, cursing under his breath. The pent up frustration of more then just hard-to-find car keys was tangible in the air.

‘You okay dear?’ I asked carefully, my hand moving out to stroke his arm, but instead tentatively hovering mid air. His whole body was screaming “I’m not okay”.

He groaned and shook his head. ‘Just a bit of a bad day.’ He swallowed, finally finding the car keys and sighing softly.

‘Here, give me that. I’ll drive. YOU sit back and relax.’

‘No, no. It’s fine. I can drive.’ He muttered, his body language telling me otherwise. He was in fact not even making an attempt to walk towards the driver’s seat, instead opting to just stand there, looking a bit forlorn.

‘Look at me.’ I commanded, finally moving my hesitating hand to his arm, offering him a gentle rub. He looked up at me. Our first eye contact of that day. And for the first time ..ever, I saw something I don’t think I had ever seen before in his eyes. Tears. Unspent, hot, burning, tears.

Oh..

I felt my heart sink.

‘Let’s get into the car.’ He finally croaked, moving to the passenger side of the car as he offered me the keys.

He didn’t even put up a fight, like he usually would when I offered to help him out. It was really bad then, huh?

I clicked the car open and Henry climbed in without a word, Kal quick to follow suit. I looked at them as the door was pulled closed, my mind not fully registering what was happening until I felt my feet instinctively carry me to the driver’s seat, the mud slushing below my well-put-to-use rain boots.

As soon as I plopped down on the soft leather seat, I could see him unravel. The usual big presence that was Henry Cavill now melting down to a slumping mess of chocolate brown curls and shaking shoulders, his large frame hanging heavily into his seatbelt as he curled his fingers through little bits of Kal’s fur. Grasping on like the dog was his very life buoy. His breath hiccuped as the waterworks opened up, salty tears burning like acid over his beautifully square jawline.

What should I do?

I hesitated a moment before moving my hand to his shoulder, rubbing slow, big circles over the tense muscles, opting to not speak for the moment as heavy sobs echoed through the car. He probably just needed a moment to cry. Release whatever he was holding in. And I was glad he didn’t hold back, his bone wrecking sobs now filling the air with a certain heaviness.

It all came pouring out.

We sat there for a few minutes, his hands now moving to his face, covering his teary cheeks as he let out a few more shivery breaths. I was glad he had parked at the far end of the parking lot this morning, this spot offering us some privacy so none of the other set members could see us while they got into their own cars.

I moved my hand up through his curls, massaging his scalp in slow kneading movements, my other hand moving to Kal’s fur, Kal now quietly pushing his head into Henry’s lap. I truly believed that dogs could sense what their humans are feeling. And needing.

At this moment, Henry just needed us with him.

‘I’m sorry about that.’ Henry finally muttered, his voice slurred with emotion.

‘Don’t be.’ I said, my hand still moving slowly through his hair, the thick hair soft below my finger tips.

‘I just…’ Another sob came over him, his shoulders sinking down as he bent forward to rest on his elbows.

I moved my hand down to his back, rubbing more large circles over the warm plane of muscles that sat below his leather jacket and auburn woolen sweater. He shook his head slowly, his face contorted in sorrow, half hidden behind his large hands. My heart cried for him, my lips pulled into a tight line as I saw the love of my life torn to pieces by something unknown.

Had something bad happened? Did someone hurt him? Did someone die?

Slowly his sobs calmed again, his face remaining hidden behind his hands as he took a few deep breaths.

‘I’m here for you.’ I said gently.

‘I know.’ He said feebly, finally looking back up at me through tear drained hands. ‘Let’s go home.’ He pleaded softly. I nodded and revved the engine, the vehicle gently rolling back through the thick mud as I clicked on my seatbelt.

The road was zig zagging through the lush green hills, giving me a decent excuse to drive nice and slow, the car now quiet as Henry and Kal both stared out of the window. My eye moved from my two sweet men, to a lake that lay just behind one of the slopes. 

Without much of a second thought I decided to take the next exit from the main road, a slightly more bumpy country road taking us to a small parking lot that was placed just behind the hill that hid the beautiful vista of the lake.  

Henry looked up, slightly confused, his sorrowful blue eyes looking at me with question. ‘Let’s get some air.’ I said, removing my seatbelt and swinging open my door. The sun was slowly starting to come down from its high perch, the greenery kissed by its sinking rays. I moved to the front of the car, stretching out languidly and waiting for a very hesitant Henry to also climb out of the car.

He didn’t say a word as he moved next to me. Kal was left in the car.

‘It’s just ten minutes to the house.’ He said, his voice still cracking a bit. I nodded and shrugged. ‘I know. And we’ll get back home, trust me. I just think you would like to see this.’ I smiled gently and stretched out an arm, enveloping his hand in mine and tugging him towards the small path that curved up the grassy hill.

We slowly paced up the hill, our feet sinking away every meter or so in the slippery mud, until we reached the top. Our eyes met with a most magical sight. 

In front of us lay the lake in all its desolate glory, the water reflecting the patchwork of colours that surrounded us. Baby blues, lush greens, bright pinks, various hues of yellow and brown, splashes of grey rock and the grey-ish blue sky up above.

I let another deep breath seep into my lungs as I smiled at the sight, softly squeezing Henry’s hand as I also heard his breath halt for a moment.

‘Wow.’ He said, his voice slightly more upbeat then before. I decided to not look at him, and instead released his hand so I could balance myself as I started walking down the slippery hill, moving closer towards the lake. Henry followed suit, his foot falls not far behind me.

‘I walked here this morning and thought you’d like to see it as well. It sure is true what they say..’ I turned around to look over my shoulder, seeing Henry struggle to keep his footing as he met my gaze. I smiled. ‘..it’s magical out here.’ His eyes remained locked on mine as a very small smile tugged at his lips, his ocean blues still blazing with emotions unsung. I turned back to continue my path, but was halted by Henry’s hand as it slipped around my upper arm.

I looked back up at him, his words already moving through the air.

‘My brother Charlie and his wife are expecting again.’

His words were uttered with a dry matter of factualness, but it was weird since this was the first thing he said to me after his outburst..Something told me there was some co-relation between the two.

I whisked up a kind smile and pushed the thought aside.

‘Congratulations. They must be overjoyed! That’s their..fourth kid then, right?’

His jaw clenched as a feeble smile appeared on his lips. ‘Yea.’

Our eyes remained trained on each other for another moment before he broke our gaze, looking back over my shoulder and taking in the beautiful vista.

‘I’m sorry for just now. Really. I don’t want to scare you..I just..’ He took in a deep breath as he closed the distance between us, his foot nearly slipping again in the mud. We both let out a little gasp, our small smiles now turning into large grins as our hands entangled to both find steady footing again. Henry chuckled softly as he settled for a steady spot, his hands moving up to cup my cheeks as his fingers brushed away a few strands of hair.

‘I just have a bit of a hard time with this news after that..thing..earlier this week.’ He looked down at our mud soaked feet, his thumbs drawing soft circles over my cool skin.

‘It’s been a lot on my mind as well.’ I agreed, moving my arms to encircle him, my head leaning against his chest while my eyes quietly peered over at the lake. ‘Pregnancy was just..not something I had ever really given much of a thought and the possibility of a slip kind of took me by surprise.’

I felt him move his head, his nose nuzzling my hair before planting a gentle kiss there. ‘I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I was just..so…’ He sighed. ‘Excited. Gosh, I’m so sorry for that. I knew there was only but a tiny chance and..even if it was so, you might have not wanted to keep it, or something could have happened..and…’ His voice hummed in my ear as I noticed two majestical swans coming over the hill, their large white wings elegantly curling so they could slip their large bodies into the shimmering water.

I stopped him mid-sentence.

‘If I had been pregnant I would have kept it.’ I said, my cheek still pressed against his chest. I could feel his thumbs still on my cheeks, his breath hiccuping as the words found their rightful meaning in his head. It took another long moment before he finally released his breath again, his hands moving down to tilt my head up.

I looked up into those big blues, his eyes pouring out all the love they could give. I wish I could capture this moment and put it in a frame. Forever to keep so I could be reminded of what it was like to be loved a man like Henry.

‘Why?’ He asked, a bit dumbfounded. I chuckled, and looked back at him lovingly.

‘Because, although it’s scary..it’s far less scary when I know I can do it with you. Besides..’ I smiled and shrugged. ‘..I bet you’ll be an awesome dad. Bad jokes and all.’ He grinned and tilted my head up further, his lips softly brushing over mine. ‘I’ll try my best.’ He said, a smile quickly growing on his lips.

‘I’m sorry for scaring you Henry. I know what I said was..difficult to hear. I mean. I know you really, really, really want to start a family, and then to say that I’m scared and..’ I rambled on but his lips quieted me, his tongue demanding entrance as he pulled me closer, kissing me with such passion I forgot how to even stand up straight, my knees becoming putty.

‘I can wait.’ He finally breathed in between kisses. ‘For babies that is. Not for you. I..’ He kissed me again. ‘..Need you. I need you always. I never loved a woman like I love you.’ He pushed his groin flush against me, his very evident rock-hard need now pressing into my belly as his tongue danced with mine, my lips widening as I gasped at the feeling. ‘Fuck.’ I breathed, my hands now pulling at his shirt to steady myself.

Come on knees, don’t give in on me now!

Henry noticed my struggle and just like in a movie, he pulled us down, our bodies sinking gently into the grassy hillside as his lips kept peppering me with his devotion. ‘I love you so, so much.’ He groaned, his voice thick with emotion once more. I let my head fall back into the soft grass mounds as his lips moved down to my jaw and my neck, his lips leaving a burning trail of tender skin, slightly reddened by his five o’clock shadow. 

The damp grass was slowly drenching my clothes, but I couldn’t care, the sensation of his heavy muscles pinning me down along with his musky scent mixing with the smell of crushed grass..it was all I needed.

Without much of a thought my fingers nimbly moved to unbuckle his belt, the metal clanging ringing like bells in the soft wind,  his hands in turn moving below my jacket to knead my lower back through the thin material of my summer dress.

‘Please.’ I begged, hastily tugging open his jeans.

‘Please what my love?’ Henry grinned, moving up ever so slightly so his dark eyes could peer into mine.

‘Want me to dirty talk huh?’ I quirked up an eyebrow, finding him smile at me in amusement.

‘Well.’ I licked my lips. ‘I want you to fill me up so good..our heartbeats become one. I want you to claim me…’ I pulled him down with a tug on his jacket. ‘I want to feel you inside me. Hard and pulsating and..’ I didn’t need to continue, his hands making light work of pushing aside my dress and panties, his erection springing free from his boxers.

‘Fuck baby.’ He growled, his velvety hardness pushing eagerly against my petals, his hips slowly..ever so slowly..forcing me to take him in. I let out a shivery breath as the sensation of the cold grass in combination with his hot flesh overflowed me. I didn’t even have control over my body anymore. As by second nature my legs wrapped around his hips while he pushed himself further and further into me, stretching my soft walls to accommodate his need.

My hands clawed at his back and our tongues darted in a sensual dance. A dance we had become well practised in now. Prodding, teasing, rolling, sucking.

My back arched up as he finally bottomed out inside me, his arms now moving to pull me up from the soft wet grass, our weight being shifted on his knees as he sat up. I no longer felt the cold dampness, but instead a wave of heat as his large arms encased me, pulling me as close as he could.

‘I am yours.’ I breathed, feeling Henry around me like a blanket of love. His hot breath against my cold cheeks as his lips bruised mine, his arms my bed and his cock my life force. I did not need another thing in the world right now, my eyes just lazily taking in our surroundings as he started to push inside me.

Low golden sun rays caressed his skin, making him as beautiful as a son of the gods, his chiseled jaw clenching in effort as his hips started to move at their own volition. It was like one of those great marble statues had been brought to life, no ink spared to paint him to be the most beautiful human being I knew. Strong, yet sweet, proud, yet humble, loyal, yet thorough. And did I mention well endowed? Yes. All of the above.

I leaned into his arms as I felt myself practically float, the grass blades that occasionally tickled my naked flesh the only reminder that I was in fact still earth bound. Henry’s delicious roars and moans filled the air as the sun set behind the hills, his hips jerking now in earnest.

I could feel a few drops hit my skin.

Was that sweat?

Was he crying?

I finally came back to and looked up at Henry, his face contorted in ecstasy. No tears, that was for sure. I let out a low moan as our eyes met. Dark, smouldering, filled with want. Seeing those dark stormy eyes as he filled me up so deliciously made my insides coil up, my nerves shoot small sparks of electricity.

‘Gods.’ I gasped, giving in to the sensation as my body started to spasm, my legs locking even tighter around his hips as my eyelids became heavy with lust.

‘Come for me my angel. Let go.’ He said, his low voice now ringing somewhere in the back of my mind as hot fire emblazoned my groin, my hands feebly scratching at his shoulders as my hair kissed the grass that lay beneath us.  

Stars struck my every nerve and I lost all control of my body, my body spasming beneath Henry’s iron lock as my throat let out a lone cry.

Henry did not stop, his hips still pushing me further and further over the edge as I keened and pleaded. My orgasm slowly made way for a pleasant high, my body still moulding perfectly around Henry as he searched for his release.

I could feel more water drops hit my face. I looked up and noticed the threateningly dark sky that now drifted towards us.

It was about to rain. 

I reeled up my head and let the cool water drip on my heated skin, my cheeks so flush with need that the heavenly water was a welcome guest to our conjoinment.

The small drizzle became bigger drops.

Henry pulled me closer, ramming into me with a certain earnesty now.

I would be sore later.

Bigger drops became a pour, our clothes slowly becoming wet with not just our sweat, but also rain.

I let out a low moan as I started to feel him twitch inside me, his hands now clenching me so hard he’d surely leave some marks.

‘FUCK HENRY.’ I gasped, my whole body being shook by his punishing pounding.

So this was sex like with an emotional Henry. Fuck me.

The rain started to pour harder and harder as Henry’s thrusts became sloppy, his head flopping forward as he let out a low roar.

‘FUCK BABY. FUCK. I. Love. You. So. Much.’ He jerked as he spilled his life giving seed in my womb. Once more sealing our union, now for the world to see without the protection of stone bedroom walls.

I could visualise it. Our bodies half clothed, sprawled out on the tall wet grass. Completely soaked. 

Heavily panting he pulled me closer, shielding me somewhat from the rain as he rubbed slow lines over my back. I was drenched. Everything about me was drenched. In and out. Super wet.

I let out a soft giggle as our eyes finally met again.

‘I. Am. Wet.’ I sniffled, earning a chuckle from him in turn, his hair now forming a wet frame of delicious curls around his face.

I hope our kids will have his curls.  

We quickly hurdled ourselves back to the car, finding an enthusiastic, but also slightly confused Kal as he licked our salty, wet hands. I sat back behind the wheel as Henry gave Kal a big bear hug, his eyes quickly trailing back to me. We didn’t need to speak, the only sound in the car now being the rumbling of our empty stomachs.

I chuckled and Henry moved his hand over my growling belly, his eyebrows lifting in a teasing matter. I rolled my eyes and shook my head, quickly starting the car before I’d have to devour him in the literal sense of the word.

--

Part 20 >

[phcking-detective]

Find Familiar, ch 1/2

Nines casts the spell and feels the magic pull from their soul. They need this to work. They don’t know what else to do.

They hear nothing, but perhaps the animal is simply quiet. The summon circle contains a perch and a large bathtub, painstakingly levitated all the way to the highest floor of their tower. Even a small area filled with sand. Just in case.

A wizard never knows what form their familiar will take until they summon it.

Nines doesn’t dare open their eyes. They need this to work. They are the most brilliant wizard of their generation and likely several before and after as well, but their brilliance is purely academic. All magic comes with a price, of course. That is why they’re ... like this.

Why bright lights give them migraines, and they cannot stand to be touched, and can only wear certain fabrics, eat certain foods, sleep under EXACT conditions. Why they can understand ancient languages and cursed tomes better than they ever could read a face.

It is their Price, and they need--

Nines opens their eyes and stares resolutely at the empty summoning circle. The spell had worked. They felt it take their energy and a piece of their soul. It had cast.

But out of all the beings on this plane and sixteen others, none had answered.

Very well. They don’t need help. They never have.

A first child for inheritance, a second for insurance. A third for luck, a fourth for the middle. Fifth for work, sixth for status. Seventh to fulfill a prophecy.

And an eighth child to be tithed. Two parents, presumably, and the eighth made exactly ten, one-tenth of the family and all they owned given to the church so that they gods would look favorably upon them.

There was no point in a child after that. No prophecies or tithing, and certainly no inheritance left over after carving it up for seven others first. No one ever needed a ninth child.

And Nines has never needed anyone else.

***

Three days and nights after casting the spell, Nines has eaten few enough meals to count on one hand. The sand has not been swept from the floor, and they have not managed to drag themself from their studies long enough to utilize the bathtub for its actual purpose.

But they’re fine.

It’s fine.

They are the greatest wizard of his generation, and they will ... survive. Perhaps not live, not as others do, not in happiness. But they are not dead yet and he has no less than twenty-two contingency spells if death does dare

KNOCK

Nines looks up from their manuscript for the first time in so many hours, they don’t know if the sun is setting or rising. The crystal ball embedded above the door glows green. Someone just solved their first riddle.

Well. Surely the second will

DOOR

Nines stands, then almost collapses from the black spots overtaking their vision. That was too fast. No one should have been able to solve the second riddle that quickly.

MAT

Nines draws their wand and faces the door as the third and final crystal ball lights green.

Knock knock knock.

“Hey. Hey! Hey, asshole!”

... what? They must be dreaming. Yes, an unexpected social visit from a villager capable of bypassing all his wards is surely the stuff of nightmares.

“Either let me in or shut the fuck up!”

The indignity of being accused of speaking when Nines hates speaking, particularly to “people,” infuriates them enough that they forget their wand entirely and throws open the door to berate the--

The much smaller man glaring up at them.

Not small enough to be a dwarf, although he certainly has that ... stockiness. Perhaps a mixture of human and dwarf, but. Even half-dwarves have beards, while this man just has some rather scruffy stubble and a scar across the bridge of his nose.

“You don’t smell right,” the man informs them.

He shoulder-checks past Nines before they can respond. It’s only due to their momentary bout of dizziness that they don’t smite him immediately for that. Or when he circles around the large living area, sniffing at things like a dog.

“Should’ve expected it to be bigger in here than out there,” he says to himself. “Still kind of small though.”

“I do not receive visitors,” Nines replies as coldly as they can manage.

They have accidentally frozen people before, simply with the freezing burn of their anger, yet their magic lays calm and docile inside their chest.

“Good, I fucking hate people,” the man says.

Nines makes some sort of very undignified noise in the back of their throat at that. The man continues wandering about their space, finally sticking his entire head inside their cauldron.

They’re hallucinating. That last alchemical potion must have--

“Don’t you have any cooking pots?” he asks.

Nines doesn’t answer so they don’t have to admit the answer is no. They will not be judged by some--some vagabond, a dirty ugly little man who is--IS BAREFOOT?

“You don’t have shoes,” Nines says, as if that is the important part about a strange man breaking into their home.

“I wiped my feet, fuck off.”

Nines looks back toward the door. All three crystals glow a fading green as the wards slowly reset themselves.

They did not originally mean to bar all the villagers from visiting them forever. They simply wanted any guests to have basic manners. Knock on the door at the first floor before entering, close it behind them so leaves didn’t blow into the stairwell, and wipe their feet on the mat at the top.

Clearly, Nines had expected far too much of the general public.

Nines turns back to see the man filling their alchemy cauldron with water. Although they sterilize it thoroughly after each use in order to prevent cross-contamination among potions, they scrounge up enough hope past the exhaustion to ponder if maybe they had forgotten to do so in the haze of the last several days.

Unfortunately, the man’s flesh does not melt from his skin as he scrubs it out with a rag.

“What are you doing?” Nines asks.

“I’m hungry and you don’t have anything else to cook in,” the man says. “At least we’ll have leftov--”

“Get out of my tower!”

The man looks up and scowls at them. “You’re the one who kept fucking calling me, bitch. Make up your damn mind.”

The realization leaves them light-headed.

“I ... I didn’t ...”

The black spots creep back again, except now they can no longer accurately be called “spots.” They take up far too much of Nines’s vision for that, then consume it entirely.

Something warm and solid catches Nines before they fall. Their hands grab at whatever they can reach out of an instinctive need to hold onto something--fabric, skin, fur. Fur? Not quite. Hair, maybe. Very thick hair. Dwarf beard? No, only stubble. But very thick hair somewhere, somewhere, oh in the middle. His ... chest?

“Ow, quit pulling on that.”

“Furry,” Nines says, because they are very intelligent and also the greatest wizard of their generation.

“Yeah, moon’s close to full. Damn, you’re a gangly bitch, aren’t you? Where’s your fucking body fat, you need to eat more.”

Nines mumbles his very clever retort into his pillows. Oh, his pillows. They’re in bed. That’s nice. Their bed is soft and warm and good.

The other Warm Good thing wrapped around them lets go.

“Nooo.”

Nines pulls it back. Furrier now. They’d secretly wished for a dog. Obviously, a feline familiar would have been more practical, and certainly more in line with their introverted tendencies. Dogs need too much attention, and walks, and they drool and shed. Cats only do one of those things, and if they summoned a black one, the hair would just blend into their robes anyway.

But still. Some part of them had hoped ...

“All right, fine. Fucking bossy. Scoot over, bitch.”

The Warm Good thing piles into the bed with Nines, but there is still entirely too much skin. Nines does not go to bed with people. Certainly not with skin showing. They want--they need--

They want a dog.

They need a person.

Of course. A fully animal familiar could only do so much for them without thumbs, and monkeys are horrendous. Only a real person would be smart enough to take care of them the way they need it.

But a person-familiar ... unheard of. Impossible. No one had ever summoned a human before, and it would be grossly unethical regardless.

Nines crows with the proof that they really are the greatest wizard of their generation, and likely several before and after.

“OK, so you’re good with me being a werewolf, right? Because if you start crying about a monster and get a bunch of pitchforks up in here, I’m pissing on all your robes.”

A werewolf. Half man, half wolf. Brilliant!

“So. What’s your name?”

“Nines.”

“Fuck, humans are still doing that? Your litters are bigger than ours, goddamn. And popping them out one at a time like that?”

The werewolf shudders. Nines pets over them, much more fur than skin now.

“Was two of us,” they say, all filter gone with how tired they are. “Twins instead of just the last eighth. Connor, Connor was ... just ... a second quicker.”

“What, so they threw you away?” he asks, the question nearly a growl.

“Tech,,nicaaally,” Nines slurs. “They did him too. Gave him. Away. Just, pretended to love him first. It’s, s’crueler. I think. At least I, ahhhhh. I always knew.”

“Phckin’ hue-mens,” the werewolf growls.

“Mmhmm.”

“Miiine.”

That is the last word he can growl out before the transformation completes. Then Nines receives the dog they wanted. Like this, it is far easier to feel their familiar’s mind at the edge of their own, to recognize the bond for what it is.

Good boy, [name].

It’s Gavin, dickhead.

Adequate boy, Gavin.

The wolf huffs. Go to sleep. I’ll feed you soup in the morning and maybe you won’t be so hangry.

I only want potatoes and carrots. NO celery.

Go the fuck to SLEEP.

Nines does so.

--

The wolf licks their face only after he’s absolutely certain they’re unconscious. The dumb human just smells dehydrated.

He didn’t want to come at first. Didn’t understand what the ache in his head was in the first place, or why he kept feeling hungry no matter how much he ate or that he had to pee for four hours straight.

Just that he needed to go, go this way, this way, this way!

Fucking asshole wizard summoning him like he’s their goddamn dog.

(But it’s not like he has a pack of his own. Not like he has anything better to do. No one to protect or feed or cuddle.)

(And this human obviously needs his help.)

He’ll only stay for the moon, just so he has a safe place to sleep it off away from angry villagers convinced he’ll “deflower” their women--who already smell of sex by the way--even though he really prefers men.

And this one wizard, apparently.

Gavin licks Nines again. The human already smells way better with his scent on them, and this is the most luxurious bed he’s ever curled up in.

He can spend the night. Make some breakfast. He’s hungry, right? Wouldn’t make sense to leave a good meal behind.

Yeah, he’s just staying for the food.

***

***

One of my lovely followers recently commissioned a second chapter! It’s rated E for Explicit (sex scenes). Subscribers to my Patreon get early access to all my commissioned fics 2 weeks earlier than they’re posted to AO3 or tumblr ^^

[hotchocolatewriting]

It’s a kind of magic #4

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Awesome drawing

I trusted them, I really did! Who is the villain here?! Because I’m certain it isn’t me this time! For once I trust someone, for once I ask someone for help! Look where it got me! Villain walked around in their cell. It was their own fault. Hero was right, I was the one doing bad things. I was the one who hurt others. I deserve this, I deserve this, I deserve this. The cell was dark, but villain could see fine. Their senses where stronger and they didn’t bump into anything while they were pacing around. They knew it had to be late, because the only sounds villain could hear where the guards that walked around outside the cell and other prisoners that were sleeping. ‘Maybe I should lie down too,’ villain thought. They walked over to their corner with the blanket. It was dirty from their blood and there were still strands of hair in their cell. Those other villains had just pulled it out! At least you couldn’t really see it. Villain was just about to close their eyes, when their ears peaked up. The door of their cell opened and the light turned on. Villain turned their head away, it was too bright. It was a guard with a stranger right beside them. Villain didn’t recognise them. The stranger smiled and walked over to villain. They grabbed villain’s cheeks and opened their mouth. Villain tried to pull away, but the strangers grip was too strong. “Nice transformation there, villain.” How did they know who they were? Had the guard told them? Who were they? Why were they here in the middle of the night? The stranger let their hand go through villain’s fur. The touch wasn’t nice, they pulled at the fur and pushed down on their back. They studied villain’s face and claws. They took villain’s horns in their hands and turned villain’s head. “Nice scales do you have there, what a beautiful black colour. Do they grow back?” The stranger turned to the guard. “I will buy them, but I do want a discount. The goods are damaged, look at all that blood on their back. It’s a shame.” The guard nodded. “Of course, no problem, as long as they get what they deserve.” Villain couldn’t believe their ears, they were being sold?! Villain tried to get on their feet, but the stranger was pushing them down by their neck. Villain couldn’t breathe! “Sleep well, beast. We are going home.” Villain felt something sharp in their arm. They couldn’t move anymore and their eyes slipped shut. Villain groaned, their muscles hurt and their body felt weak. The floor was cold beneath them. It felt like some kind of metal, but villain wasn’t sure. It felt like they were moving, but again, villain wasn’t sure, their head was foggy and they still couldn’t manage to open their eyes. It felt like someone had glued them together. Villain tried to push themselves of the cold ground. Their body was shaking, their arms could barely manage to get them up. Villain hit something with their horns and before they knew it they slammed against a wall. They shook their head and managed to open their eyes this time. Their breath hitched in their throat. They were in the back of a car, to be more specific, they were in a small dog kennel! Villain could see the outside world through the bars. The green hills and the trees. The animals and the small houses. Villain saw a small village in the distance, but they didn’t recognise it, they had no idea where they were or where they were going. They couldn’t see the one who was driving, the kennel had only one side with bars. They tried to open it, but an extra lock prevented them from doing so. The car drove through a large gate and they entered a driveway towards the top of a hill. Villain hadn’t seen any other houses in a while now, only woods and grassland. They stopped in front of a mansion. Villain heard someone open the door and slam it shut again. They waited until the person came to get them out, but no-one came. Villain let their head rest on their paws. The door finally opened and the stranger came into sight. They looked at villain with an amused smile. “I’m going to open the door of your cage to bring you to your new home. If you decide to put up a fight I promise you that I will overwhelm you and make sure you can’t use your claws again. Show me that you are submissive and I won’t.” Villain hid their tail between their legs. They suppressed the tendency to whine. They had felt how unusually strong this stranger was and they didn’t even know if hero had told them the truth about turning further. Besides, why would they fight? Would it make things any better? It probably wouldn’t get them anywhere. The stranger opened the cage and grabbed villain by their horns, pulled them out, and let them drop on the gravel. Villain yelped and their knees started to bleed. The stranger laughed and grabbed villain by the neck. They dragged villain behind them to the other side of the house. There was another dog kennel there, but this one was even smaller. Villain struggled and tried to get out of the painful grip. They whimpered and clawed at the strangers hands. Suddenly the stranger turned and threw them on the ground. They put their boot on villain’s throat and pressed. “You have no idea who I am, do you?” Villain managed to choke a small whimper. No, they had no idea, but there was something about the voice, something familiar, but they had never seen this face before. The stranger pressed harder. Villain’s lungs felt like fire, they needed air! Tears started streaming down their face and the lack of oxygen caused them to panic. I’m going to die! I’m going to die! Villain cried, but the only sound that left their throat was a soft squeak. They were getting dizzy and their body slowly went limb. Then the boot was lifted from their neck and villain took gulping breaths. Their lungs were burning and their vison was blurry. Villain cried out as the stranger kicked against their already broken rib. The boot landed again, this time on their arm. Villain curled up on themselves, trying to held the pain out. The stranger kept kicking and after what felt like ages they pulled villain up by their neck. Their cheeks were tearstained, their body felt broken. Villain didn’t dare to look the stranger in the eyes. They wanted it to stop, they wanted to be good. Maybe this was just what they deserved, they were a monster after all. “Look at me, beast!” The voice was cold and threatening. Villain let their eyes go up to look the stranger in the eyes. Their expression was cold, but there was an angry fire burning behind their eyes. “Do you know who I am now?” The stranger asked. Villain shook their head, it was all they could do without their voice. “Some people call you a supervillain,” the stranger said, “But we all know I am the biggest villain here. What a shame you didn’t recognise me, but oh well, that only shows the mask does its work. Right, villain?” Villain nodded. Supervillain smiled cruel, causing villain to whimper again. They hadn’t thought of supervillain! “Now be good for me and sit up like a good dog.” A sharp pain shot through their body as villain obeyed supervillain. Supervillain smiled amused and walked to a small shed in the garden. Villain didn’t move, far too scared of what supervillain would do if they saw them. They heard supervillain humming and saw them taking something out of the shed. Villain shrunk when they saw what supervillain had gotten them. In their right hand they held a black collar with diamonds in it, while in their left they had a muzzle that seemed like it was designed for villain. Villain swallowed hard and took a few steps back from supervillain. “Ah, ah, ahhh. No, no, I told you to sit and stay.” Villain immediately sat straight up, the pain in their ribs felt like they were hit by thunder. Supervillain crouched down in front of them and let the muzzle fall on the ground. They took the collar in both hands and placed it around villain’s neck. “Now you look even more like a good pet. You were always a handsome villain, I have to admit that much, but you don’t look bad in this form. Beautiful fur, shining black scales, yellow catlike eyes. You will be a beautiful display on my parties.” Supervillain tightened the collar as much as they could. Villain could only take some gulping breaths, just enough to fill half of their lungs. “Look at that! Such a good pet! I should get some jewellery for your horns too. Maybe something gold.” Supervillain grabbed their cheeks, just like they had done back in the cell. They picked up the muzzle from the ground and pushed it against villain’s face. Villain pulled away from it, but that only made supervillain angry again. They pushed villain against the ground, their face in the sand. “I just said you were good and now you pull away?” They pulled villain up by their hair and placed the muzzle against their face again. They attached the straps and pulled them tight so villain couldn’t take it off themselves. It hurt and cut in villain’s skin. They blink the swell of tears out of their vison and try to calm down. It felt like they couldn’t breathe at all. Their thoughts were fuzzy and the sounds that left their mouth where only squeaks. They wanted to beg supervillain to loosen the collar, to get the muzzle away that was taking even more of their precious air. They wanted to tell them that they would be good, but they couldn’t and they were choking. Villain tried to take of few short breaths, but that only caused them to cough behind the muzzle. Villain could barely breathe through it and they started to panic, gasping for air that they couldn’t get. More tears started to stream down their face. “Come on, don’t cry. You were villain once, right? They never cried.” That’s not true, villain thought. They were already broken after hero betrayed them the first time. The second time hit even harder and after that they lost the will to fight. Supervillain put them in the small kennel and left them outside. Villain’s back started to hurt after an hour, but they couldn’t sit in a different position. A few hours later they were so tired because of the lack of air. They had lost consciousness a few times, but every time they woke up with the burning pain in their lungs and back. A few hours after that it was dark again and it started to rain. Supervillain didn’t come to take them inside. They didn’t come to give them food or offer them shelter. This would be their new life from now on.

[elesianne]

A Silmarillion fanfic, chapter two of three – Carnistir/Tuilindien

Chapter length: ~3,600 words; Story rating: Teenage audiences

Summary: Caranthir and his wife expect and welcome an addition to their family. Tuilindien’s joy is greater than her exhaustion, but Caranthir’s happiness is shadowed by Míriel’s fate.

A/N: In this longer chapter, an elven pregnancy continues to require a great deal of cuddling and fluff.

Warnings: Pregnancy continues, and there is exactly one sentence that is descriptive about childbirth in this chapter.

AO3 LINK

*

Chapter II //  In happy expectation

'I think our child is a girl', Tuilindien tells Carnistir one night, after a day of pondering about it quietly.

It has been another one of those days when she has done little but wander around the house and garden, doing only some tiny chores and taking her time with them, and sitting or lying down in warm, comfortable places like a contented cat. Indeed, Snowdrop and Cinder had joined her for some of her moments of rest, and she petted their soft fur while she conversed with her child's spirit, learning more about her.

Carnistir's puts down his utensils by his plate, and his face lights up. But as always when she tells him something about their child, he asks, 'Are you certain? How can you tell?'

'I am not certainly not certain', Tuilindien replies with a little laugh. Almost always, she has to tell him that she is not certain. 'This is new to me, Carnistir. But there is something about her that… I do not how to describe it. Some part of her spirit that resembles a part of mine, and it makes me think that she is a girl. I cannot explain it any better than that.'

'You are calling them 'her' now.' Carnistir smiles wider than she's ever seen.

He appears to be as elated about having a daughter as Curufinwë is about having a son.

'I might be wrong', she warns him. 'We have no way of knowing for certain whether I am until she is born. Though you may begin to feel more things about her soon, too.'

'I hope I will.' Somehow, he manages to frown while still also smiling. It is a peculiar sight, and it makes her heart ache in that sweet way only he can cause. 'I feel so little from her yet. Oh, Tuilë. A little girl.' He gets up and starts pacing around the dining room, only to come back to her after a few laps of the room to press a swift kiss to her forehead. Then he gets back to pacing.

Tuilindien starts eating her vegetables again. She is very hungry, and there is only joy to be felt from Carnistir. Apparently he cannot physically contain it all, and must move around. Tuilindien does not share the impulse but after years of marriage, she expected nothing else from him.

She eats and he paces, and when she is finishing her dessert he comes back to the table and sits down in the chair next to her.

His hair is messy from running his hands through it. Tuilindien runs careful fingers through the black locks, untangling knots, caressing his joyful fëa with hers.

She can tell that he is talking to their child, and so Tuilindien waits quietly until he speaks.

His hand on her belly, he asks, 'Do you think she will like making physical things or drawing plans for them like me, or studying intangible things like you?'

'I cannot tell yet.' She leans back in her chair. 'She will be her own person, her spirit all her own, so she might not take after either of us unless she chooses to and we choose to teach her.'

'I'll teach her anything she wants, or find teachers. If she wants to be a stone-smith, I won't let anyone say anything to her about how it is not woman's work. And in any case there are more and more women in Tirion working stone now than there were when my mother was young and considered odd for choosing it.'

Despite his fierce words, his calloused fingers are gentle as always. Tuilindien runs her own on top his for a moment.

'Perhaps she will be an artist', she says. 'Or a singer, or poet.'

Carnistir says, 'Perhaps she will be a needlewoman.'

She smiles at him. 'Perhaps. Nimble-fingered and capable of putting together something beautiful out of tiny stiches.'

She is glad that as her pregnancy has continues and their child become more and more real and present to them, Míriel's shadow has seemed to weigh less on Carnistir's spirit. Perhaps one day she will not be such at all.

Not today, though, not yet. For as Tuilindien finishes her dessert, her worrying husband says, 'Let's go to bed, Tuilë.'

'It is not late', she protests, but she doesn't really mind. She is already letting him help her up – unnecessarily – and she follows him when he leads her straight to their bedroom.

*

Tuilindien helps Netyarë paint both their nurseries. That is, she helps Netyarë's maid Wirien with covering the floors and mixing paints and plaster and other small errands. Wirien is skilled in them all, experienced in helping her mistress, and could probably do all of them alone just as well. Tuilindien suspects that Netyarë invited her just to make her feel included.

She doesn't voice her suspicions because she is happy to be included, although once Netyarë gets started painting, she needs little help. She appears to sink into her own world.

Tuilindien brings chairs to the nursery and she and Wirien sit down to keep Netyarë unneeded company and offer suggestions on the rare occasions when she asks for them. Tuilindien reads practise analyses by her young students and makes corrections in them, and Wirien does her household's mending.

It is all very companionable.

The walls in the room of her own baby Netyarë covers in depictions of small, fluffy rabbits gambolling in a woodland scene. When Curufinwë and Carnistir are shown the finished frescoes, they tease Netyarë about her subject matter, about how she has never painted anything nearly as whimsical before.

Netyarë turns up her little nose and says mock-haughtily that she has never painted frescoes in a child's bedroom before and, really, few artists have – her and Curufinwë's son is a lucky boy to have art in his room that is as carefully painted, and with more love, than the walls of any lord's room that Netyarë has been commissioned to decorate.

Curufinwë kisses her cheek in a rare public show of affection and says that, yes, their son is very lucky to have such a talented artist as his mother.

Carnistir studies the baby rabbits with a thoughtful frown and says resolutely, 'I think you painted their ears a little too long, and they are behaving too nicely with each other.'

While Netyarë rolls her eyes, Tuilindien whispers in Carnistir's ear, 'Neither of those things is really important for the purpose of the painting.'

'The purpose?'

'To delight a child.'

Carnistir starts to redden. 'Right', he says. 'This is one of those things I didn't think about enough before I spoke.'

Tuilindien pats his arm.

'I grew up in the city and am far from an expert on forestland fauna', Netyarë says. Fortunately she looks more amused than irritated. 'If you want a perfectly anatomically accurate depiction of an animal, ask Tyelko to draw you one.'

Curufinwë chuckles, makes a face at Carnistir and throws his arm around Netyarë's shoulders, and they all go to dinner.

The next day, Netyarë begins painting a fresco in the nursery of Tuilindien and Carnistir's daughter. At Tuilindien's request, Netyarë paints no bunnies or other small animals.

Instead, she paints a beautiful fresco of the two Trees on one of the windowless walls, more shimmering and bright than Tuilindien dared to hope for, and Taniquetil on the other: Tuilindien's home until she made her home here with Carnistir.

'I want her to get to know her other home, too, when she is still young and we won't be able to travel with her to Valinor or Taniquetil often', Tuilindien explains to Carnistir as they stand, hand in hand, looking at the half-finished fresco of the Holy Mountain one evening when Netyarë has laid down her brushes and plaster and gone home. A cold autumn wind blows in through the windows, and a fresh underlayer of plaster waits on the wall, drying, to be painted over the next few days.

Carnistir gives her a soft peck on the cheek and strokes gently over her crown of braids. Tuilindien can tell that he doesn't know what to say.

That is alright. Her mother is coming to visit soon.

*

'She feels a lot like you', Tuilindien says suddenly one day when they are again lying in bed already though it is barely night-time yet. She had been tired, and Carnistir managed to coax her into bed and then slipped in after her.

It is early still but he wanted to just lay there with his hand on her stomach, waiting for the baby to kick. He only began to feel her doing so a few days ago, and it is still new and wonderful. Perhaps it will not stop being wonderful, feeling their child's hröa as well as fëa. Tuilindien has been feeling it longer, and still stops and smiles dreamily whenever she does. She says that her heart caught fire when she first felt the baby moving inside of her.

'Does she really feel like me?' Carnistir asks, a little hesitant. It has not occurred to him that their child reminds might resemble him greatly; his first, intuitive, hoped-for image of her has always been a golden-haired girl with Tuilindien's eyes and gentle smile.

It might not be a good thing for Tuilindien's strength if their child is more like him. He is too much like his father in some ways, though too little in others.

'Yes, she does.' Tuilindien sighs, and Carnistir feels it bodily, nestled as he is against her back with his arm thrown over her waist, cradling the bump of her stomach. It did not sound like an unhappy sigh.

'I feel like she's going to be tall and strong', Tuilindien continues dreamily. 'Strong in the ways that you are.'

Carnistir starts. 'Is that… can you feel that in her fëa? Or is it a wish? Or foresight?'

Tuilindien mulls the question over. 'The first of those, I think', she says at length. 'Though if it is, how is it different from foresight? But I never had foresight before.'

'Many don't until they have children', Carnistir reminds her. He doesn't wish for foresight for Tuilindien, or for himself. It is a double-edged blade that can bring grief before its time as well as joy of things to come.

Tuilindien sighs again. Carnistir thinks that she is much more tired today than she has admitted to him. He can see it in her spirit. Their daughter, on the other hand, is in an unusually lively mood. He tries to tell her, gentle as he can, to calm down and let her mother rest, but it does not seem to be having much effect.

He never knows whether he is doing things right when he communicates with their daughter's spirit. Or perhaps she is indeed like him, restless too often.

He also doesn't want to risk making himself or Tuilindien sad by talking more about foresight so he returns to what she said about their child feeling like. He says, 'You are on the tall side too.'

'Not like you', Tuilindien argues softly. 'Not tall and strong, with your wide shoulders and big hands. And I don't have your physicality, your hands that touch a thing that was made by another's hands and know at once how it was done, or your eyes that follow someone's movements and then you can replicate them perfectly .' She runs a hand down his arm. 'You have a kind of connection to the physical world that I don't', she muses.

He clears his throat, both pleased and embarrassed and a little uneasy at this reminder of their differences. 'And is that what you sense from our daughter?'

She lays her hand on top of his on her stomach like she likes to do. 'Yes.'

'She will be a craftswoman, then.'

With a smile in her voice, Tuilindien says, 'She will. Perhaps a stone-smith. She will be strong enough for it.'

He smiles into the back of her neck. Her curls tickle his nose. 'I hope she has your hair.' It is not the first time he has said that.

'I hope she has your dark eyes.' Tuilindien is mumbling by now.

Carnistir kisses her nape and tells her, 'Rest, vanimelda, you need to rest so you can stay strong as our daughter grows strong, too.'

He is relieved when she doesn't protest this time.

She sighs once more, soft and sweet. 'I am glad you are here, Carnistir.'

'Of course I am', he says, confused.

'You are taking such good care of me', she continues, though he wishes she would just rest, and communicates that wish to her over their mental connection. 'You spend most of your time taking care of me and the baby now. And you carry me to bed when I let you now that I'm getting heavy and clumsy – even though I'm heavy indeed now; getting me all my favourite foods, even cooking yourself when you think the cook doesn't do a good enough job.'

She chuckles at that, and Carnistir blushes but regrets nothing. She adds, 'And you keep telling me, day after day, never tiring of it, how much you love me.'

'I don't do it every day.'

'Perhaps not in words. In actions, certainly many times a day. My stalwart strength.' She turns to face him, slow and clumsy, and kisses him.

In kissing she is far from clumsy, and it makes him hold her differently, breathe her in differently, tighten his hand on her waist, show his love to her with his body.

*

After Tuilindien told Carnistir's family that she is with child, Fëanáro seemed to accept her – really accept her – as a member of his family for the first time.

Carnistir is angry about that. It shouldn't have taken Tuilindien carrying a child that is Fëanáro's grandson, and he lets his father know his opinion about that in very clear and very loud words.

But as the weeks march on and Tuilindien advises him to just be grateful, like she is, that Fëanáro no longer aims barbed words and looks at her during every conversation, Carnistir settles into grudging… not quite forgiveness, but acceptance at least. He attempts to be civil with his father.

And his father does give him good advice, surprisingly much of which is how to best take care of Tuilindien during the year that she bears their child.

That advice, more openly caring and tender than anything his father has said to him since he was a child, makes Carnistir look at his father with new respect. It also makes him understand, after years of wondering, why his wise mother agreed to have children with Fëanáro six times.

He doesn't know whether to expect joy or disappointment from Fëanáro when he tells him of Tuilindien discovering that their child is most likely a daughter.

There is only joy. The more cynical side of Carnistir thinks it is because Curufinwë is having a son so a granddaughter is a novelty that a second grandson would not have been. More charitably, he thinks it might be because Fëanáro genuinely has hoped for a daughter to join their family.

'A grandson and a granddaughter to be born in the same year', he says with a rare blissful smile. 'You and Curufinwë are making me and Nerdanel very happy and proud parents and grandparents indeed.'

'Tuilindien and Netyarë are doing the harder part of the work', Carnistir points out, and instead of being irritated by the rebuttal, Fëanáro laughs and agrees.

*

As Tuilindien's year of pregnancy draws near its end, Carnistir dislikes being away from her more and more.

Tuilindien no longer objects to his fussing – and at this point, even Carnistir himself admits that it is fussing.

And for her part, Tuilindien at last readily admits when she is exhausted, either in body and spirit or both. Carnistir does all he can to ease the long last weeks and days of her pregnancy: he takes care of as many physical things as he can, and spends hours in silent communication with their daughter's fëa. It is by now very lively, as is her hröa, granting Tuilindien little rest.

It does feel like she resembles him quite a lot, Carnistir has to admit.

He is still worried about Tuilindien. In many of the moments when she rests he listens to her breathe, sometimes with a hand on her heart to feel it beat.

It brings him consolation that she is never in ill spirits, only tired, and his mother's supportive yet no-nonsense attitude to his worrying helps too. Nerdanel comes over on most days until Tuilindien's mother arrives to stay with them for the last week and some weeks after the baby is born.

'Your father was the same with me, every time', Nerdanel confides in Carnistir on a day when he feels he should do even more for Tuilindien but doesn't know what. 'For the first few babies his excuse was that we couldn't know whether his children would be as dangerous to bear as he was. Then for the last few it was that we had already had so many, more than most, that he worried my strength could not last through it all.'

'But it did.' Carnistir manages to find a smile for his mother.

She smiles, too. 'Yes, I recovered well every time. Women are stronger than men think we are, most of the time.'

And his father tells him, 'You are doing well and so is Tuilindien.'

Carnistir raises his brows. 'Rare praise from you.'

Fëanáro busies himself with gathering up the papers Carnistir came to get from him so he can do a little bit of design work from home.

Fëanáro says, 'I may disagree with your wife's choices in how she occupies her time and what customs of our people she has refused to adopt, but I find no fault in how she conducts herself in matters of family.'

Carnistir chooses to say nothing of how Fëanáro disapproves of Tuilindien being a Vanya, still, but raises his brows at his last remark. 'What does that even mean?'

Stiffly, Fëanáro lists, 'How devoted she is to you, how she treats Pityo and Telvo just as if they were her own little brothers – teaching and guiding and always welcoming them in your house, though we all know they still tend to leave a mess behind wherever they go – and how… how she is with your daughter.'

The last compliment could be much more detailed, but Carnistir will take it. But he cannot help saying, 'It is remarkable how difficult it is for your silver tongue to say nice things about her.'

His step is light, however, as he returns home to his beloved and their child that he cannot wait to meet.

*

Tuilindien cries when she is very happy. That is something that Carnistir knows well: she cried the night they became engaged, when they married, and when she realised she was pregnant.

Yet when their daughter is born, she only cries a few tears of exhausted pain during her labour, and none when the baby is in her arms. She has only smiles then, and silly tired grins, and Carnistir cries and cries until the tuft of jet-black hair on the baby's head becomes blurry in his eyes.

He blinks and wipes away the tears because he doesn't want to lose a moment of this. The baby is snuffling sleepily against Tuilindien's breast as Tuilindien gazes down at her with all the love in the world in her eyes while a tiny, perfect finger is curled around Carnistir's, and the room is filled with the quietness of the three people of his family resting on the bed instead of two.

Tuilindien breaks the silence. 'You should hold her now', she says. 'I'm so tired I fear I will drop her on the bed.'

'You wouldn't', he says, but takes her when she carefully passes the baby to him. He is glad, and so is Tuilindien, that they got to practice with little Tyelperinquar for a few weeks.

Tuilindien's eyes are half-lidded but bright as she lies down and looks at him and at their daughter in his arms. 'I have never been so tired', she says. 'Or so happy.'

He sends her as much love and comfort and strength as he can. He feels drained of energy himself. 'I could not wait for her to be here', he says as he stares at their child, learning every single little thing about her and pressing them all deep in his heart. 'And now it almost strange that she is.'

Tuilindien mumbles her agreement. She is slipping into well-deserved sleep.

Carnistir's daughter is such a light weight in his arms, but there was nothing fragile about the ear-piercing crying she began as soon as she entered the world. Carnistir feels almost like his fingers stroking her cheek recognise her physical form just as his spirit recognised hers when he first held her: as akin to him and to Tuilindien, but her own being.

'Welcome to the world, beloved child', he whispers to her once more.

His daughter blinks at him sleepily, halfway to Lórien's realm. Carnistir hopes that a newborn's dreams there are as soft and comforting as the blanket he has draped her in.

He leans back against the back of his chair and listens to his child and wife breathe, deep and even.

*

A/N: I headcanon that elf parents-to-be don't work much during their year of expecting a child. They spend a lot of time communicating with their child and supporting their growth, as an elven pregnancy is more spiritually draining to both parents. So their family and community support them, if needed, during this important and relatively rare time in the couple's long life.

I would love to hear what you thought of the chapter <3

In the next chapter: more fluff, and talk about names.

[vlleneuve]

sans peur: chapter two

Chapter two is where we finally see the Beast!

Belle sets out on her adventure, and ends up some place a bit different than where she ended up.

Also on AO3. You can also read the prologue and the first chapter.

It was true that Belle had never made the journey to Beaumont without her father. It was also true that she was entirely too headstrong to let this stop her.

It occurred to her a little while into her travels that she wasn’t completely sure she was going the right way. But she was confident that she would make it, no matter what. She picked through the parts of the forest that seemed to be familiar and followed the trails she thought she remembered Papa taking. Finally, she rounded the last bend (and just in time too, she thought, as the sun was about to go down), and feasted her eyes on --

A castle in exactly the spot where she had thought Beaumont would be.

She yanked Phillipe to a halt.

Reflecting on the path she had taken to get here, Belle credited that she very well could have remembered Papa taking a left turn instead of a right, or a right instead of a left, at some of the junctions she had gone through. That meant that Beaumont definitely was still out there, and hadn’t been replaced by whatever royalty sat in front of her.

The next question was, where to go from here?

The sun was going to set soon, which did not bode well for trying to retrace her steps and end up in the right place this time. However, trying her luck with whoever lived in the very menacing castle up ahead also sounded less than desirable….

But she realized she had no choice. She could take another wrong turn if she went back into the forest, and might not be so lucky to end up in a civilized place next time. Trying her luck with the castle seemed to be her only option.

With that, she powered onward.

It occurred to her that she had no idea who lived here. She’d never heard of such nobility living all the way out here in the French countryside, and she was sure she would have remembered it if she did. She entertained the thought briefly that perhaps she had ridden all the way to Paris, but she quickly dismissed it -- Papa had said that rides to Paris took three days or more. This, then, must be the royal escape from duty. Perhaps this was what they fancied for their summer homes?

Well, if nothing else, she was about to find out.

She tethered Phillipe to a nearby tree (one that didn’t look too flimsy and decorational) and made her way up the huge stone steps to the ominous double doors.

Are these the sorts of doors you just knock on, she wondered?

Best to give it a try. She knocked politely against the heavy wood, but the sound that came out felt silent compared to the enormouse size of everything else. She tried again, harder this time, and the door opened slightly.

A sign from the universe, then, that she should go inside.

Belle peeked her head around the door cautiously, but found that it was dark, save for a fire roaring in the hearth. She stepped in and called out to anyone that might be there, but got no response.

She tiptoed in a little further, before looking quickly to her left. She thought she’d heard men’s voices, but upon further inspection, all that was there was a (very fancy) table with a little ornate clock and candlestick on it, among other knick-knacks.

“Hello?” she called out again.

Distant thudding, and then, in a gruff voice, “Who goes there?”

She squared her shoulders. “I’m Belle, and I’m from Villeneuve.” Silence. ‘Who are you?”

There was a great thundering, and she wondered what sort of royalty it would be that would walk so heavily -- she’d always imagined they would be dainty.

She didn’t have much time to wonder though, as she saw a shadow coming from behind a corner, and then -

Her breath tightened in her chest. It was…. Well, she didn’t know what it was. Some sort of creature that towered at least eight feet tall and was covered in fur. He (she assumed it was a he from the voice she’d heard) had horns that curled away from his head, paws instead of hands or feet. He stood on two legs, but was hunched over, appearing as if though he could change between upright movement and moving on all fours easily. It looked like a real-life monster from a fairytale.

She backed slowly away from the creature before her.

“What do you want?” his voice huffed again.

She watched as his hands clasped together, looking like maybe he was about to crack his knuckles or pound his fists together. But the longer she watched, his hands just sort of twisted back and forth.

Oh, she realized. He’s wringing his hands. He’s nervous .

Belle looked the creature over again. Despite his terrifying features, his body language wasn’t very menacing. The hunch she’d thought he had for running like an animal really was him drawing his body in on himself in what appeared to be timidity. His eyes were wide, but not from anger, just curiosity. He worried his lip with his fangs, not from bloodlust, but from, well, worry.

Suddenly, she felt terrible from backing away from him. She had no idea who or what this creature was, but she would be damned if she was going to hurt its feelings. She took another step, forward this time, and spoke calmly.

“I left my village in search of supplies for my mother, who has fallen ill. I left for Beaumont, but got lost on my way there and ended up here. With so little daylight left, and no provisions for staying the night in the forest alone, I thought I might pay the inhabitants of this castle a visit. I ask for your charity…” She was going to finish her sentence with some form of address like “sir” or “your highness,” but she really had no idea who or what she was speaking to, and thought it best not to chance it.

She studied him for a moment, and found that he seemed even more afraid of her than she had been of him. As she watched him closely, he backed away again, wringing his hands still. He looked desperately unsure. His eyes darted around the room.

“But,” she continued, “I see that my presence is an imposition. I won’t bother you further. Good day.”

But before she could even turn on her heel to leave, he stopped her.

“No!”

“Sorry?”

He wrung his hands more still.

From looking at the stranger before him, he could tell she hadn’t been eating as much as she should. And coming from Villeneuve, it made sense that she’d gone out in search of supplies -- Villeuneve was one of the smallest provinces in the realm. If her family really was facing difficult times, he couldn’t let her go without at least trying to help her.

He knew how difficult it was to lose your mother.

“You, uhm… you don’t have to go just yet.” He glanced again at his maitre d’ and head of staff, Lumiere and Cogsworth, who were looking at him like they were (silently, of course) cheering on a horse race. “You…. are not an imposition.”

Wasn’t that the truth. She’d only been here for two minutes at most, enough time to send people screaming and running as fast as they could in the other direction. But he’d seen how she’d looked at him and reversed her attitude, before talking to him like he was a normal person.

He hadn’t experienced that in ten years.

“You can stay for dinner, if you like.” Lumiere nearly fell off the table as he jumped for joy. “And…. you can stay the night as well, because, well. You know, it’s dangerous to travel at night.” She stayed silent, still watching him closely, and he wanted to crawl into a hole. What if he was mucking this up or scaring her away? Was he being too forward? “If you want.” That should do it.

She smiled, finally. “I would appreciate that very much.”

He almost choked. “Well!” he clapped his hands together and tried to take a deep breath. “Cogsworth, our head of household will show you to a room, and in the meantime…. I will make sure dinner is started right away.” He took an uncertain breath. “Is there, uhm, anything you’d prefer? To eat, that is. Unless, of course, you’d like a room with a specific view, or the walls to be a certain color, or -” He cut himself off, as Lumiere and Cogsworth were flailing for all their lives were worth to get him to shut up.

She chuckled. (Was she laughing at him?) “Whatever you’ve got is fine. I’m sure whatever is provided for dinner will be wonderful, and whatever room you have for me will be comfortable. Even some scraps and a broom closet will be more than enough. I’d hate to be a burden.”

She was so nice! Yet he’d almost wished she’d had a list of requests, so that he didn’t have to think of anything himself. Well, this would have to do.

“I’ll get started on dinner right away then. Cogsworth?” The little clock hopped down from the table. “Please show our guest to her room.”

“Thank you very much,” she said as he turned to leave.

He was so overwhelmed, all he could really do was smile. He offered a very sincere, but quiet “of course” before all but running from the room.

Belle turned to look for her escort, but saw no one. She heard a throat being cleared from a few feet down though, and looked to see --

That same ornate clock from the table, ambling towards her with all the pomp of a member of nobility.

“You must be…”

“Cogsworth, yes, yes, right this way, if you please.” And off he went down one of the halls.

As they walked, the little clock told her about everything from the history of the castle to the architecture to analyses of the art that hung on the walls. He really didn’t seem to need audience interaction to keep up his lecture, which was fine with Belle. It gave her space to think about everything that had happened in the few short minutes she had been here.

She couldn’t be one hundred percent certain any of this was real, but she trusted her senses. She could hear the sounds of her feet clicking along on the floors, smell the fragrance of the castle (which she could only imagine was the smell of very expensive things combined with mothballs), and when she reached out to touch the wall she could feel the cool stone beneath her fingers.

If this truly was real, then who were any of these people? What was this castle? Surely, if there were a beast commanding a staff of household objects in the forest, she would have heard about it. Belle couldn’t have been the only person who had ever gotten lost in the forest and ended up here. But then again, maybe whatever forces were at work bringing clocks and beasts to life were also keeping this place a secret.

Finally, they made it to the room in question. Belle waited for a moment before the closed doors, until she realized Cogsworth couldn’t reach the handle. Looking at him for permission, she opened the door and led the two of them inside.

My goodness, it was beautiful.

A bed sat in the center of the room, with curtains hanging around it on all sides. The ceiling had to rise at least fifteen feet above them. Windows that were just as tall as the ceiling filled the spaces between the fine-art panels that lined the wall. Gold flakes covered everything with a sense of delicacy and grace.

How could this be merely a guest room when it looked like it belonged to a princess?

“I hope this will suit your needs, madame,” chimed the clock from the doorway. She realized her mouth had been hanging open and she snapped it shut.

“This is…. Beyond anything I could have asked for.” Belle turned back to face him. “Thank you very much for your hospitality.”

“It is my pleasure.” He made a sort of motion that she could only imagine would have been puffing out his chest, if he’d had one. “Please, make yourself at home. Dinner will be ready shortly.” With that, he trotted from the room.

Belle really wasn’t sure how she could make herself feel “at home” in a place that felt so foreign to her, but, hell, she wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass her up.

The relative peace in the kitchen was disrupted as the Beast ran through the doors. Lumiere was hot on his heels, and he would have been skipping had he two legs.

“There’s-a-girl,” the Beast spoke, out of breath, to the whole staff that had gathered round him at the sight of him bolting through the doors.

“A mademoiselle!” Lumiere chimed in.

“She’s-staying-for-dinner-and-”

“A feast!”

“-she-didn’t-say-what-she-wanted-”

“We will cook everything we’ve got!”

“-now-she’s-in-her-room-”

“I have been waiting my whole golden life for this moment!”

“-and-we-have-to-make-dinner-”

“I will have to go over the choreography, of course, pas de probleme!”

“-her-mother’s-ill-too-so-she-needs-"

“Everyone, slow down! ”

This voice of reason came from Mrs. Potts, rolling forward on her tea cart.

“Tell us everything, from the beginning, slowly .”

And so, the Beast began recounting the events of the last few minutes, Lumiere interjecting all the way with his own suggestions about bringing the girl’s stay from good to great. These suggestions were mainly theatrical, and mainly ignored.

When the Beast had finished his tale, Mrs. Potts smiled kindly.

“Fixing the sweet girl dinner won’t be a problem at all, and I’m sure we’ll be able to put together some supplies for her to bring back to her family.” She took stock of the room around her, before handing out tasks to different staff.

At last, everyone had something to do to help with dinner but the Beast.

“What would you like to do, luv?”

He had assumed a seated position on one of the stools out of the way of the traffic of the kitchen, and had remained in relative silence, lost in thought, once Mrs. Potts had taken charge.

“Well…. If you all know what you’re doing, I don’t want to get in your way.”

The little teapot watched him knowingly, before smiling.

“I think you should help Chapeau gather medicine from our pantry, and be sure to throw in anything else you think she might need. How does that sound?” He nodded, thankful for being allocated somewhere instead of having to make the decision himself, and made for the pantry.

“Oh, and Master, will you be joining her for dinner?”

The Beast stopped dead in his tracks. He hadn’t even thought of that.

“I… have already had dinner.” Mrs. Potts cocked a painted eyebrow at him -- that was a bald-faced lie. “...is what I will tell her, so that she isn’t put in the uncomfortable position of dining with… well, you know.”

While the kettle disagreed with his logic, she understood his self-doubt. “Whatever you say, sweetheart. But if you change your mind, you let us know.” She gave him a nod before bustling off to get to work on dinner.

Blowing out his cheeks, he turned back to join Chapeau in the pantry.

---------

“Right this way, mademoiselle,” the candlestick escorted. Belle laughed inwardly to herself as she watched him practically foxtrot his way through the dining room; he sure seemed to have a lot of energy and nowhere to put it.

She noticed that the table was only set for one, which she thought odd. Was she going to just sit here and eat alone? Then again, eating alone wouldn’t be that odd compared to everything else that had happened this evening.

As Belle seated herself at the head of the long, beautiful wooden table, her fiery escort spoke again.

“If you need anything, just let us know, hm? Your wish is our command!” He bowed deeply (as deep as a candelabra could, she supposed) before he bounced out of the room.

She looked down at the spread in front of her and… huh. There sure were a lot of utensils, weren’t there?

In her house, there was only one size of spoons, knives, and forks that you ate with. Of course, you might have your soup ladle, or a carving knife, but nothing extra for eating the meal itself. All the tiny little spoons and forks that sat in front of her now were completely foreign.

Eating alone with no one to watch her suddenly did not seem like such a bad idea.

So, she took what she assumed to be the most appropriately sized spoon for what she assumed was her first course (it was closest), and chowed down.

Her mind dwelled on how peculiar it was that a great big hairy fellow (who she had come to understand was named “The Beast” because of coursethat’s what the staff call him) lived like royalty, yet had the confidence and moral strength of a brittle leaf in the wind. She wondered if he had taken over this castle from its previous owners, but quickly dismissed that thought. The Beast would be far too shy to ask for a room to spend the night in, much less demand control over an entire castle.

Who, then, was he? She couldn’t help returning to this question. He spoke and acted like a man, and so did everyone else she had met. Belle had never heard of talking animals or objects, but maybe it was just because Villeneue was such a small town? Maybe she was the first to discover this castle. What an adventure that would be! She thought --

There was a knock on the door.

She was about to answer “come in!’ but felt that she didn’t have the authority to be granting people access to this room, even if she was the only one in it. Instead she responded with a very neutral “yes?”

The door to the kitchen creaked open slightly, and she saw the Beast peak his head in.

“Is… is your meal alright?” he asked shyly.

He worried that he was interrupting, or that maybe her food was terrible and by asking he had put her in an awkward position. He gripped the door a little harder in anticipation of her answer. Meanwhile, the staff were all trying to shoo him into the room, but he wasn’t keen on moving.

“It’s more than alright!” He let out a sigh of relief.

Belle watched the Beast closely for a moment. He was nothing if not a being of sheer nervous energy.

“Have you had dinner yet?”

“No,” he responded immediately, and then kicked himself. That was supposed to be the reason why he couldn’t join her. “I mean, yes.” Well, that obviously wouldn’t do either, seeing as he was clearly lying either way. ‘I mean, it doesn’t matter.”

She just quirked an eyebrow at him.

The Beast’s breath gathered in his lungs and stayed there, pounding against his chest. Why couldn’t he do one thing right?

“Would you like to join me?”

And for as much as he was worried he would mess it up, he really did want to join her.

“Yes. But, only if you don’t mind, of course.”

“I’m the one who invited you, aren’t I?” A smile danced across her lips. He couldn’t help but smile back.

He realized, then, that he had no idea what to do now. He hadn’t planned for this! Was he supposed to go and make himself a plate and then join her? Was he supposed to sit down already? Was he-?

The Beast felt a pressure at his back, and turned to see that Mrs. Potts was pushing her tea-cart up against him, all but forcing him into the dining room. He hopped out of the way and let her lead the way, thankful for someone else taking charge.

At the far end of the table, Mrs. Potts began dishing out plates and utensils and setting a place for the Beast. It was really beyond her how, even now, he was scared of even walking himself into the dining room. Well, someone had to do it, so it might as well have been her.

“Here you are, dearie. We’ll bring dinner out to you in just a minute.”

The Beast bowed his head. “Thank you, Mrs. Potts.”

“Don’t you worry about it,” she said kindly, and bustled back into the kitchen.

For a moment, there was awkward silence. The Beast fiddled with his soup spoon and studied the flowers painted onto the china.

Belle quietly cleared her throat. “I’m sorry my table manners are so poor. Growing up as an artist’s daughter in a little town, you don’t really learn the etiquette of eating a meal in the same way a person like you might.”

He balked. She had called him a person! She wasn’t looking at him like some hideous creature, but as someone who might even have manners!

What had they been talking about again?

Right.

“Don’t worry about it at all. Royalty will take every opportunity they can to make up games that only they can play.”

A devilish smile. “Aha, and don’t you play those games?” She gestured to all pomp and circumstance of the table settings.

He was absolutely in awe of her confidence. He had never seen someone, much less a peasant girl, who was so… unafraid. She voiced her opinion, and talked to him like an equal. He couldn’t imagine where she got it from, but he never wanted it to go away. They’d just met but felt like he could watch her for hours.

“I’m, ah, not a fan of it.”

Belle chuckled, and twirled her fork (laden with souffle) before sucking it into her mouth. Her elbow rested on the table, and she mindlessly let her fork dance in front of her, as if she were conducting a very subtle orchestra.

The Beast was mesmerized.

Coming back into focus, she set her fork down and said, “I’m really grateful for how kind you and your staff are being. That guest bedroom of yours is quite the feat of interior design, I’m not sure I’m fancy enough to stay in it!”

“Oh, well, there are many other rooms, I’m sure that there’s one --”

“I’m only joking!” She laughed, a full, light sound. “But I really am grateful for your hospitality.”

“Of course.” He gave her a smile, and he hoped she could understand how genuine it was. ‘Which reminds me, I gathered some supplies -- with help, of course -- for your mother, and I hope it will be enough. Is there anything in particular you were looking for? To be honest, I’m really not sure what would be best, but if you want we can look it over after dinner, and you’re welcome to whatever you like, and if there isn’t something we have, we can try and find another solution for you, or if --”

“I’m sure whatever you’ve got is fine. Please don’t fret over it.”

“Are you sure?”

Belle smiled softly. She quickly understood this was a source of stress for him. “I’m sure we could look it over after dinner, though, couldn’t we?”

“We certainly could.”

After dinner had been had, conversation made, and the supplies looked over, it was time for the pair to retire for the evening. The Beast walked Belle to her room, in mostly companionable silence. They promised to meet again in the morning for breakfast before Belle made it to her bedroom door.

“Well…. Good night. If you have anything you need in the night, please don’t hesitate to ask, we want your stay to be as comfortable as possible.”

Again, Belle cast him under her watchful gaze. He wanted to squirm and look away, but something about the way she focused on him kept him locked in the engagement.

“Thank you very much. I’ll keep that in mind,” she finally said. “Good night.”

The Beast nodded his head. “Good night.”

Chapter Three

[pluralthey]

I love your characters and designs so much - one thing I love is that a lot of your characters are species not usually seen in furry/anthro art (hermit crab, centipede, unique species of lizard) - some of your characters are even animals I'd never heard of before (snail fur, velvet worm, linsang)! Do you have a process for picking species, or do you just go by what seems interesting?

it’s more of an art than a science, so no real process… i’ve read about animals for a very long time as a hobby and i still do on occasion, so a lot of the animals that i tend to pick don’t come from sitting down and trying to seek out animals that fit anthropomorphic traits.many of the less conventional species choices i didn’t learn from looking into different animals – snail furs, for example, were introduced to me when i was reading about aging, stem cells, why aging happens, why some animals live longer than others, etc. many niche creatures are studied and commodified for human medicinal purposes and this is possibly the most ideal vector for anthropomorphizing a species of animal in a relevant way.

with that said i don’t think i had any real talent for depicting furries until i started reading more about how other people view any given animal moreso than just reading about the specific animal. choosing animal species that make you look smart for characters is risky and the equivalent to, well, writing with a thesaurus open in front of you. maybe once or twice per story, but people notice when you are constantly pulling them out of what feels intuitive and forcing them to disengage with the work while they google something… so i tend to try to choose characters based on symbolism or intrigue judiciously (moreso now than before). it also prevents too much bioessentialism from leaking into the work blacksad style…it’s reasonable to me that a given character may act certain ways based on common tropes and expectations projected onto them if it fits their personality (sivan is an example, obviously leaning in the perceived shyness of hermit crabs), and others will feel ostracized and react oppositionally to expectations that feel like they’re being drained of their autonomy (kerris is an example of this, i picked “shark” for them solely because it’s directly contrary to prolific ideas about how sharks act)… again, i just try to be prudent about how often i decide it’s a good idea and to remember that a character of a given species isn’t a certain way because they’re genetically inclined to be that way, but rather, interacting with the same tropes that i want the reader to interact with in their hypothetical life.aside from immediate expectations and beliefs about animals, the other consideration about how people view a given animal is how they literally view the animal – the shapes and colors that tend to draw the eye. the majority of my design choices tend to be a desire for a specific shape structure and knowing what animals i know fit that structure. certain characters like duncan, sugar, and harley, are hybrids of animals solely because i thought “these look like each other!”

hope that explains some of it; a large reason that this isn’t really a succinct process is because the choices rely heavily on context that decays rapidly over time – eg. maybe i’ll choose a species because i want a fatter body type as a base because i feel like the cast has too many thin characters… maybe after that one i will think that choosing only fat animals to make fat characters would be a poor choice and i select a gangly animal species to make another fat character. once there are a few more of these characters in the work, the contexts that rationalized those choices at the time are no longer relevant.