#they were like ten feet tall on their hind legs

[andromediae]

Everybody's like "dinos this, ichthyosaurs that" and I just want to see the Pleistocene. I mean we just missed it. I'm not asking for much.

[bogleech]

TOP TEN DINOSAURUSES

maybe you're wondering my most tenned favorite dinosauruses??? The science study of dinasacacers is called "dinosaurusology" by leading experts like myself, and it is constantly changing as we make new uncoveries almost every tuesday when we find new bones in my cousin rob's garage (he hasn't thrown anything out since the 90's!) As such bear in mind that up to two facts I am about to share could become dated over the course of the next century, however as both the king and queen of science this will only be true if I'm still available to approve the new facts. If I'm dead or kind of tired then nobody will ever know what's true anymore so you should be nice to me. #10: OVIRAPTOR

OVIRAPTOR was a good model for what all dinosacans were like: it was a wrinkly lizard that slithered in filthy dirt and had difficulty standing upright because its bones were made of rocks. This is why we have the term "the stone age," so be grateful you're living in "the bone age!" Oviraptor's name means "eggs velociraptor" because it was a kind of velociraptor that stole eggs. It didn't know what to do with them because nobody invented cooking yet and raw dinosaur eggs were disgusting, so every oviraptor starved to death.

#9: IGUANADON

This was the last known photograph of IGUANA DON (not to be confused with his cousin iguana dan) when george washington invented photographs 2 million years ago. Don was an ugly disgusting hilarious lizard monster with one horn on its nose and he died because he evolved a dining room in his torso exactly the right size for 21 cavemen to walk in and eat his kidneys. This was not helped by don's instinct to sleep on a big porch under a chandelier.

#9 DIMETRODON

DIMETRODON was the most common dinosaur of jurassic, which was the fifth and final era of dinosaurs after the ice age but before the ediacaran. In fact dimetrodon was the very last dinosaur to ever exist on earth before they were all eaten to death by the ediacaran's dominant predator: a species of swirly looking weird rock. Nobody knows why these swirly looking weird rocks died out, but it's most likely because dimetrodon was so poisonous from its diet of entirely pufferfish. You can tell it was a sea dinosaur because of its fish fin! #8: PTERADACTYL

PTERODACTYL was a regular dinosaur until it got married to a species of bat and its bat wife laid a bunch of pterodactyl eggs! This woodcut is however inaccurate: flying would not be invented until president obama discovered the first airplane in 1998, so pterodactyl couldn't possibly have stayed in the air and just immediately fell. The long 900 million year reign of the pterodactyl abruptly ended when the last one finally hit the ground (it took longer in those days because the oxygen disaster made so much more air) #7 SNORKASAURUS

SNORKASAURUS was completely unique among all dinocaurs by having a really long neck. It was one of the largest creatures to ever roam the earth at over 7 feet tall, or exactly 12 meters to those of you living in Liberia or Myanmar! This is the last known photograph of snorkasaurus, giving birth to the first cavemen. Snorkasaurus went extinct because all of them did this instead of making baby snorkasauruses. This is because like all dinosaurii they had only a tiny peanut for a brain, and nobody was around to give them 'the talk' because that wasn't invented yet.

#6 SMILODON

SMILODON was a very special dinosaurn because it was the first one to stand up on its hind legs after years of rigorous exercise and weight training. By inventing this new way of walking, Smilodon made it possible for the first monkeys to evolve! This is called "convergent" evolution.

#5 BULBASAUR

BULBASAUR was a majestic and beautiful species of neopet unfortunately disliked by the scientific community because it is the reason there are no flying dinosuars. Bulbasaur was the first ever flying dyanasar ever invented, 19 billion years ago on September 10, 2001, but the project was discontinued when its first test flight ended in a tragic accident. That's right: on September 11, 2001, Bulbasaur crashed into the stock market, causing the great depression that lead to the civil war :'( now to this very day, flying dinosarers are against the law.

#4 YOSHI

YOSHI is a type of dinersaulophus called a "bird," which was actually the second attempt by early neanderthal alchemists to manufacture a street legal flying dinnersauran, but the New Zealand government realized if dinophlofbuses can fly, then bats would no longer be special, and since bats are New Zealand's only major export it would have been an economic disaster. The queen of Australia (New Zealand's largest city) ordered the CIA to sand all of the wings off of these early prototype birds. Every bird tragically went extinct when it looked down, noticed how high up it was and remembered it could not fly, activating the effects of Earth's gravitational field.

#3 ANOMALOCARIS

ANOMALOCARIS was the dinosorcerous that discovered the first primitive cave painting of a modern day crab and invented carcinisation. All the other dinanders laughed at Anomalocaris for wanting to turn into a crab, but guess what??? Every single kind of dinosaur is dead but there's a crab still alive at 29, making it the oldest person in the world. Who's FUCKING laughing now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#2 EARL SINCLAIR

This is the last known photograph of Earl Sinclair, seen here as an uncredited extra in "Avatar 3: Lost in New York." Earl Sinclair was a sindonaur species that could disguise itself as a human by putting on sunglasses, a necessary adaptation in order to hide from the largest predator dancasore to ever live: Mellisuga helenae. However, near the end of the coal age, M. Helenae finally remembered that sunglasses hadn't even been invented yet. Look carefully, and you'll notice nobody is wearing sunglasses at all in this scene, making Earl Sinclair stick out like a sore thumb! If you're still having difficulty, here's a zoomed in image of this majestic thunder lizard:

Unfortunately......this wardrobe malfunction made Mr. Sinclair just as obvious to his ancient enemy, and the last Earl Sinclair's brains were sucked out on September 11, 2001, the darkest day in British history because he was the only one who knew the recipe to chicken mcnuggets (the only british food.) To this day all british people are extinct but you can still see their fossilized skeletons waiting in line at the department of motor vehicles.

#1 CONCAVENATOR

Concavenator was an Early Cretaceous carcharodontosaurid up to six meters in length with an unusual pointed crest on its back.

[kingorqueenofnarnia]

TCON HEADCANON

.

Peter used to be the tallest of the four, until Susan turned fourteen and shot up to six feet— one inch taller than him. It earned him weeks of teasing from his three little shits until he hit sixteen and and shot up half a foot, reaching an astounding six feet four inches. This was in the middle of a campaign against the Raiders of Korentha, and even he did not realise he had grown until he returned home from war and suddenly he had to tilt his head down to look at Susan. Susan sulked for days, and was only appeased when Peter gifted her a beautiful pair of high heels. Peter likes being tall, even though he's not as tall as a Centaur— Susan likes his bear hugs, and he gets to make fun of the younger ones for being tiny squirts. Lucy regularly climbs him like a jungle gym until she hits her own growth spurt.

Susan cut an imposing figure at 15, with wide shoulders and a slender torso, standing at an impressive 6 feet even without her famous heels. She hated it at first— girls from England were short, much shorter than her, and so were many of the men. She always felt a little self conscious in a crowd because of how she towered over the average human. In Narnia, however, it was different. Druids and Naiads and Dryads regularly reached six feet, and centaurs were rarely shorter than seven. Fauns were short, but Bears stood on their hind legs and towered over her only to hand out the warmest hugs Susan had ever experienced apart from Peter's. Secretly though, no matter how much she teased Peter about being shorter than her, she was glad when he grew taller than her. (His hugs aren't as comforting if you're taller than him, alright?)

Halfway through Edmund's fifteenth year of existence, he was both shocked and pleased to find out he did not need to tilt his head back to look at Peter anymore. Peter was 18 and a giant, bear-like warrior king, his furs and long braids and armour making him look even larger, and Edmund was a lanky teenager with remnants of baby fat still on his cheeks and wiry muscle wrapped around thin bones— both of them were the same height, but Edmund looked boyish where Peter looked manly. It took him till he was in his early twenties to match Peter's bulk, but he stayed as tall as Peter for the rest of his life, not an inch here or there. (and Peter thanks the Fates for that. He doesnt know if he could withstand the amount of heckling that would come with being shorter than his brother.)

Lucy was the shortest of them her entire life. Until she was 14, she was about 5ft 4 inches, at which point she started growing like a weed and stopped at the very admirable height of five feet ten inches— just two inches short of Susan's height. It infuriated her to no end; being shorter than everyone was annoying, and even more so when you weren't actually short at all, just shorter than your siblings. At 5'10, she towered over many Narnian species as well as her classmates when she returned to England and went through puberty a second time, but she loved it. She loved being taller, loved that she was only shorter than her siblings— they may annoy her by teasing her about their heights, but being smaller meant the hugs were better, and really, why would she give up on a chance to climb Peter like a monkey so she could sit on his shoulders? No, Su, she doesn't care that it looks uncouth.

[clangenrising]

Month 2 - Newleaf

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Yarrowshade padded just ahead of Pantherhaze through the tall grass on the hill that led up to the thunderpath. As the clan’s best hunters, they had taken to going out together to see how much prey they could catch.

“We’ll make it a game,” Yarrowshade had said with a taunting grin, “a competition. To see who’s better.” 

“And I suppose you think you’ll win?” Pantherhaze had raised his brows in amusement in response. 

“Um, yeah,” Yarrowshade had replied. “Why would I propose a competition I thought I would lose?” 

Pantherhaze had laughed. “Fair point. Well, it sounds like a good way to get everyone fed so… deal. Get ready to lose.” 

Now, about a month into their bet, Yarrowshade was behind by about ten catches and he wasn’t going to let that stand so today he had dragged Pantherhaze to the southern border looking for a plentiful hunting ground. 

“You’re sure you want to go over the thunderpath?” Pantherhaze asked again, tail twitching slightly with worry. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Trust me, there’s a bunch of birds and things just over it that don’t expect to get eaten. It’ll be easy pickings.” 

“It’ll take more than a good hunting spot to catch up to me,” the other warrior huffed with exertion, watching his paws as he climbed the steepest part of the hill. Yarrowshade paused at the top to look down at him with a smirk.

“Oh, I’m not just going to catch up, Hazey, I’m going to take the lead by thirty fox-lengths!” He puffed up his chest and purred smugly. Pantherhaze jogged the rest of the distance to him and reared to batter his ears with playful strikes. He laughed and swatted back before pulling away to continue leading their little patrol towards the bounty waiting on the other side of the thunderpath. 

“You’ve got bees in your brain, Yare,” said Patherhaze fondly as he fell in behind the ginger tabby. They marched through the tall grass in a relaxed manner, the only sound being the reassuring quiet rustle of plants in the breeze and birds somewhere nearby. However, as they slowed to poke their heads out of the sheltering grass, both cats felt their hackles rising at the smell of blood. It wasn’t an uncommon smell on the thunderpath, but it was unsettling nonetheless because it wasn’t the tempting scent of prey blood but the distinct smell of an injured cat. Yarrowshade reared up on his hind legs to look over as much of the thunderpath as he could and spotted a limp ginger body in the middle of the path, a few fox-lengths away.

“Look,” he said and dropped down to start creeping closer. 

Pantherhaze bristled anxiously. “W- Careful!” 

“I’m being careful,” he murmured back. For some reason, he felt the need to keep his voice soft and his pawsteps light, as if trying to stay hidden, even though the strange cat was probably dead and there were no monsters in sight. Glancing back, he asked, “Keep watch, yeah?” Pantherhaze frowned deeply but, after a moment, nodded, and cast his eyes down the thunderpath in both directions. 

Knowing his friend was watching his back, Yarrowshade refocused on the task at hand. He crept up on the body - a she-cat by the smell of it - with wide, curious eyes. Her long, feathered tail was a deep ginger but as he got closer, he saw that her pelt was mostly a dusty brown. He’d never seen a cat like her before. Her pelt was a little scraped up, but as far as he could tell there weren’t any mortal wounds. He hovered over her, mouth open to scent for the source of the blood as he lifted a paw to gently prod her side. The she-cat groaned blearily and shifted, causing him to flinch backwards.

Pantherhaze noticed and called over, “What is it!?” 

“She’s alive!” Yarrowshade called over his shoulder. “I’m gonna try and wake her!” Carefully he shook her shoulder a bit, eliciting more pained groans. 

“Uh, hey there…” he ventured. “You alright?” 

She shifted again and managed to pull her feet underneath her, crouching defensively as she turned to face him, revealing a trail of thick blood rolling between her striking blue eyes. “Wh… What…” she tried but couldn’t make it much further into the sentence. She winced and ducked her head, clearly in a lot of pain. 

“Hey, it’s alright. Let’s get you off the thunderpath, yeah?” 

“The… what…?” she looked around and then swallowed. “Oh. Yeah, o…okay.” Yarrowshade sighed in relief and gave her shoulder a few reassuring licks, ignoring the acrid taste of monster that clung to her fur. He came up behind her and nudged her side and she instinctively moved away. He shepherded her back to Pantherhaze this way, only pausing to let her rest once they were safely hidden among the grass at the top of the hill. 

“Are you alright?” Pantherhaze asked, sniffing at the messy wound on her forehead. The stranger pulled away from him but winced at the sudden movement and lowered her head, looking sick to her stomach. 

“I’m fine,” she managed after a moment with an attempt at a smile. 

“You should come with us,” Pantherhaze said quickly. “We have someone back at camp who will know how to help you.”

Seeing the suspicion in the she-cat’s eyes as she regarded the offer, Yarrowshade added, “At the very least, we have herbs to help with the pain.”

 She glanced at him with her eyes only, holding as still as she could, and thought for a moment before she closed her eyes and huffed, “I guess why not. Not like I could stop you if you decided to make me.” 

“We would never,” Pantherhaze assured her and Yarrowshade chuckled at his friend’s naivety. 

“Yeah, it would be much easier to leave you to die,” he joked. Pantherhaze scowled at him but, surprisingly, the stranger laughed. 

“I ‘spose so, huh…” she did her best to stand up straight and open her eyes so she could look at them as she said, “You can call me Scorch.”

“Good to meet you, Scorch,” Yarrowshade grinned. “I’m Yarrowshade, this is Pantherhaze. We’re from RisingClan.”

“Oh… you’re those cultists I’ve been hearing about.” 

“Cultists!?” Pantherhaze blustered, tail lashing. “What do you mean, cultists?” 

Yarrowshade brushed his tail against his friend’s leg. “You can interrogate her about it once she’s had a few poppy seeds, Hazey. Come on.” And with that he pressed up against Scorch’s side, allowing her to lean on him on the walk back to camp.

UPDATES:

- A rogue named Scorch is found on the thunderpath.

[jenkinsgallardo]

When We’ll Meet One Way..

(paul lahote x oc)

She is the daughter of the moon.. some would say she was born for this

“Laura!"

Paul perked up hearing her mom call her name while she laughed. He couldn't see what was happening, even while he was phased in his wolf, could only see a bit of a half a corner of what he assumed was her bedroom.

It was nighttime, around nine thirty and most of the house lights were turned off. Then Paul quickly got up on all fours.

Paul saw Laura.

It was only for two seconds but he saw her. He didn't see her face though, but he saw her long black curly hair Her hair was beautiful. It so thick and so full, it almost looked unreal... like her eyes.

Her dark royal blue eyes.

Paul's never been one to be overwhelmed but when he first looked at her earlier today, he was. And it wasn't even her eyes or her hair that looked unreal, but it was just everything about her.

Her royal blue eyes almost took her whole baby face. He couldn't even describe it but she was like one of those cartoon Disney princesses. And she was so tiny, Paul meant he's well over six feet but Laura was probably four foot ten. He couldn't wait till he got the chance to have her in his arms.

In other words, she was an absolute angel.

Paul's angel.

It had only been four hours ago since it was the first time he saw her.

It was four hours ago that his life changed and everyone and everything else in Paul's life became secondary.

Because he imprinted.

Laura.

He didn't even realize that he was walking closer towards the window he saw her from.

"hey!" Paul yelled in his head thinking he got pushed from one of his pack brothers.

But once he looked up from it wasn't.

It was just a man.

At first, he thought he was dealing with a vampire but there wasn't the usual sickly sweet smell that he remembered them smelling like.

Before he could actually get up and charge, Paul stopped once he saw familiar eyes.

Royal blue eyes.

"Laura`s eyes?.."

Paul thought.. was this man Laura`s fath-!

"I know what happened"

How did he know about the imprint?..

"Leave. Now"

Paul took an involuntary step back, feeling like it was an alpha order.

what is this? why did i step away like that!?

"Paul!"

Sam came running towards them, looking like Jared and Quil right behind.

"Why isn't Sam phased too?"

"I don't know, he just told us that you were in trouble and told us to him meet over here fast"

"Roger!"

"Get him out of here Sam. All of them." Roger said while still glaring at Paul.

Hey! how can he talk to Sam like that?

"This is something we don't have control over. Roger I'm sorry, but Paul imprintin-!"

"No!" Roger yelled out causing even Sam to take a step back.

"I. Have. Control."

"Roger.." Sam was taking a step back from him

Is he gonna-?!

Jared's question was answered before he could even finish his question.

Roger phased.

But that didn't surprise us as much after.

He was standing. As tall as almost nine feet on hind legs.

What kind of wolf is that?!

Roger now standing in front of all us. Even with all them being wolves themselves .. they all stood there in fear.. and now noticing.. even including Paul..

He couldn't even think right when Roger was running at full speed towards him. For a split second he thought he could take whatever what was coming.. but his confidence level took a big hit when super wolf took down Jared and quil from out of his way.. and it looked like he barley used any strength.. He grabbed Paul with what felt like a metal claw around his neck, he had Paul off the ground hanging off his wolf legs. Now actually feeling helpless while Paul moving around like a fish out of water.

Roger pushed him harder against the tree making the defenseless wolf look right in his face.

Yes this was a wolf he was dealing with and he's seen Sam's alpha face.. but looking at this super wolfs face had Paul not wanting to make anymore eye contact..

He then got close to his face making Paul stand still in his death grip he had on his neck.

"She's not yours. She's mine!" he pushed Paul hard against the tree again to prove his point.

But he could slam him all he wanted to

"Not anymore!" Paul said right back to his face not caring if he killed him right then and there.

He quickly looked up and he had his claw ready to what would assume would kill him.

"You hurt him you hurt Laura!" Sam yelled out just in the knick of time.

Roger breathed hard while still having his claw around Pauls neck.

'What? Was he waiting for me to apologize? Cause I wasn't!'

Paul thought confidently even with his life literally was in this guys hands.. He looked at Paul like he heard his thoughts.. and Paul hoped that he did.

He finally decided to throw Paul.. and his confidence to the ground. He shook himself to get rid of the stress Paul didn't know had that bad from that death grip..

"Paul! you okay?!" Jared asked

"Course i'm okay" he said confidently hoping that crazy super wolf heard him

"I thought he was gonna kill you!" quill yelled out

"Enough! change back"

"Is he crazy! we're not gonna phase back now! we're dealing with super wolf here!" Jared said looking actually worried to phase back.

"Just do it! Now" Sam ordered

Jared and quil looked at each other then at Paul

"Paul, come on"

He didn't move. Paul stayed right where he was keeping the same glare that crazed wolf was giving him.

"Paul!" Sam yelled

he huffed loud before heading back to phase.

Paul wasn't even paying attention at the question Jared and quil had while they phased back.

"Why didn't he phase back? wasn't it alphas orders?" Jared asked

It was true. He didn't phase back.

Roger yelled out and phased back to normal.

"Because I don't take orders"

Roger now was on his knees back to being human, Sam walked up to him with an extra pair of shorts that they kept in the woods for backups

"Roger is different." Sam said looking back to Reality Roger then back to them.

"He is a child of the moon"

There was a brief moment of silence between us.

"I thought they were like.. extinct" Jared said while we all looked at Roger like they were starstruck.

"No"

Roger now stood up.

"But there's gonna be four less of you guys if I catch any of you here again"

Paul almost flinched at what that super wolf just said. Sam must of noticed too cause he turned to look at him for a second..

"Ja-"

"NO!"

Sam took a fast step back at his loud voice, Quil and Jared were even surprised that Sam reacted that way…he was the one with the alpha voice.

"You need to listen. All of you listen. If I catch ANY of you here again i. will. hurt. you"

No one said anything.

"You can't do that."

"Paul!"

Quil quietly yelled at Paul, but he didn't care what would've happened to him when he said that

Roger laughed still scaring the other a little..

"I can't? it was pretty easy almost breaking your neck like a twig"

Those words made Paul almost charge at if Jared hadn't held him back.

"Let me tell you something, you think you guys are so strong. Sam isn't your big bad alpha anymore. I am."

Roger noticed that Sam was taken back by what he said.. but he didn't care.

"Sorry Sam. I don't trust your control over them anymore."

"They don't need any controlling. They didn't do anything wrong, Paul didn't do anything wrong"

Roger looked at Paul for a moment.

"and you know it" Sam whispered

"What I do know is that this night is over." Roger then looked back at the younger wolfs

"Go home."

Before Paul could start walking towards him Roger growled

"GO HOME!"

"P-paul let's go" Jared said with a bit of fear in his voice.

Paul aggressively shook Jared's hand off his shoulder

"Let's head back"

"What! you can't let him do this! Sam he can-!"

Quil and Jared kept telling him to go and calm down.

"Get off me!"

Sam walks over to them "Ok ok it's fine" Sam said trying to talk over his yelling

"Hey!" Sam now right in Paul's face

"Turn around and go home."

Roger then starts to run back home.

Before Paul could go after him Sam put a hand on his chest

"Don't worry.. you'll see her"

Chapter one, took a while to finally upload this work. I have had this idea for quite some time and I'm finally putting it into words. Tell me what you think and tell me what your excited to see in the next future chapters. Laura is an original character of mine, definitely going to see a lot for her character. But anyways let me know what you guys think?

[vh-rp]

The Owlbear

HABITAT: Varies COMPANION: No MOUNT: Yes SHAPSHIFT: Yes RANGER CALL: Yes Guardians of: The Forestsprites

Owlbears were monstrous beasts with the bodies of bears covered in thick fur and feathers. Their heads were like those of owls, but with a serrated beak. They resided in the ancient forests of Thedas, where they were both feared and respected by those who dwelled in or near these woods.

Known for their formidable strength and ferocity, owlbears were apex predators within their habitat. Standing on their hind legs, an adult owlbear could reach up to ten feet tall, and their powerful limbs were capable of delivering devastating blows. Their claws were long and sharp, designed to tear through flesh and armor alike.

Despite their fearsome appearance, owlbears were also known for their eerie, almost haunting calls that echoed through the forest at night. These calls were a mixture of hoots and roars, adding to their mystique and the aura of dread surrounding them.

Owlbears were solitary creatures, usually seen alone or in mating pairs. They were fiercely territorial and would attack anything that they perceived as a threat to their domain. Their nests were often found in dense, secluded areas of the forest, built from a combination of branches, leaves, and the bones of their prey.

The diet of an owlbear was diverse, as they were opportunistic hunters. They primarily fed on large game such as deer, elk, and boars, but they would not hesitate to attack and consume smaller creatures, including humans, if given the chance. Their hunting prowess was unmatched, relying on a combination of their keen senses and brute strength to overpower their prey.

Despite their aggressive nature, there were tales and legends of druids and other forest-dwelling folk who had managed to form a bond with these creatures, though such accounts were rare and often considered the stuff of myth.

The feathers of an owlbear were prized by hunters and collectors, believed to possess magical properties that could be used in various enchantments and potions. As a result, owlbears were often hunted, adding another layer of danger to their already precarious existence in the wild.

In the ancient forests of Thedas, the presence of an owlbear was a reminder of nature's untamed and unpredictable power, a symbol of the wild's ability to inspire both awe and terror in equal measure.

[imspardagus]

See you, Latte

My sister lost her dog on Monday. I mean that in the most final way. Latte, a white Spinoni named after the coffee (her “brother”, a brown Spinoni, had been called “Mocha”, naturally), who had reached the age of 10 with the aid of numerous medications and expensive diets, started having seizures last week and a brain scan on Monday revealed three tumours. So my sister had that awful choice to make (a choice that is so far only available to the owners of animals).

I was not surprised at how hard it hit me emotionally. I am not a fan of Spinonis as a breed, which seems to place me in a minority of one. But Latte was a sweetie, gentle and permanently forlorn and bemused and I had come to love her, and to feel quite sorry for her. And she had come to trust me and to greet me whenever we met. I have known many people about whom I couldn’t say as much.

Spinonis suffer from being pedigree dogs, “bred” to exacting standards that take a toll on their sustainability. I always found it ironic that a breed of Italian hunting dog should: be afraid of loud noises; be afraid of the water; have pads so soft that grass seeds become embedded in them and turn septic each summer; have long straggly ears that pick up burrs and tics and are prone to infection; and have thick coats that cause them major discomfort even in weak English sunshine. Not exactly fit for purpose.

But that is not all that is seriously unpleasant about them. They have long, drooping jowels from which sticky saliva constantly drips, and to rid themselves of it they will shake their heads vigorously, sending streams of the gooey matter flying over anything and anybody within ten feet of them without warning. Their coats are not soft but more of the texture of Brillo pads, and their beards are constantly picking up debris. Which takes on a new dimension when you add in their penchant for finding dead things and worse (worse than dead things? Try wet cow pats and fox poo) and rolling in them. My sister tells me it’s a way of disguising their smell. Haven’t they heard of Brut?

But they are seriously intelligent dogs. Which of course means that they need the intellectual stimulus and rigour of training and discipline. Which neither Latte nor Mocha ever really got. Well, not in a good sense. My sister, to whom these fairly large dogs (standing, their heads were above the level of the average dining table. I will come to that shortly) were substitute children, adored without limit, was given to trying to control them with a lovingly gentle voice. “Don’t do that, darling” she would croon as one of them jumped up on their hind legs to greet her. On several occasions this would result in their knocking her backwards onto the ground (with their paws on your shoulder they stand about six feet tall and they weigh about as much as an adult human too). Dogs tend to work on tone rather more than vocabulary so they translated a soft “Don’t do that” as “My mistress likes it when I do that”, and continued to do it. Over time, it had damaged her back, but she of course forgave them.

Meals with these two dog-ponies were a nightmare too, but one that my sister seemed conveniently blind to. When we were away we always had to eat where the dogs could be present (“they can’t be left, they would miss me”). That ruled out most restaurants. The food on the plates was a temptation to creatures blessed with very sensitive noses and, unsurprisingly, my sister’s response was to give them tidbits from her dish. So we would end up with two shaggy, slobbery heads resting on the surface of the table inches from our plates. I’m afraid I found that the other side of acceptable but apparently it was not for me to complain.

All of which is bound to leave you, the reader, asking for confirmation of that earlier claim to love Latte. But that is both the oddity, and the power, of human love. The oddity is that love is blind. The power that love has is to transcend all frailties. I know people who could give you a cynical chapter and verse on how dogs, and cats, have been bred over centuries to simulate behaviour that touches our heartstrings and affirms our affection. And it is probably true. I know how faithfully dogs will over time come to reflect the mood of their owners. I have had to bite my tongue many times when my sister has asserted that “Latte is very sad at the moment” or “Latte is very sensitive today” or “Latte seems upset about something” when what I am seeing is a naturally doleful face (the dog’s not my sister’s) mirroring the mood of her mistress. But I am unrepentant in my belief that dogs and humans can and do develop an emotional bond (I am not disparaging cats here, by the way. I have just come to the conclusion over many years that the bond between cats and people is much more transactional, and, for the cat at least, tilted in its favour, The cat is, according to its world view, always the master.)

I could just quote the growing body of evidence for the therapeutic value of a dog to a sick, recuperating or aged person. I could mention Guide Dogs for the Blind, which, at the very least, demonstrate the unswerving loyalty that a dog can offer. I could pray in aid Greyfriars Bobby and a host of other dogs that have mourned the death of their human with unflagging devotion that threatens their own survival. I could do all of that. But it wouldn’t prove that they loved their human or that their human loved them. Why? Because, for all our cleverness, we cannot come near to defining or proving love, even between two people. Despite all the powerful tools we have for testing and communicating, love remains as un-pin-down-able now as it has ever been. I can believe for years that what I experienced was love and yet if you ask me to explain that belief in words or with actual evidence that would persuade you all I will be able to do is to offer some dubious approximators which may or may not reflect the existence of this capricious imp. “Love is what you believe it to be” is a dangerous and perhaps unacceptable dereliction from meaning but it will have to do. And perhaps it should.

So I will say that, yes, I came to love Latte, and the emotions that overtook me when I heard she was no longer with us are, for me, sufficient confirmation that I did. I know it and that is what matters.

It may seem strange, perverse even, that, given my readiness to accept the unproven phantom of love as real, I have no belief in God or the hereafter: heaven and hell. I am not going to try to justify this apparent irrationality here. Let me just say that if there is a heaven I hope they allow dogs in. A heaven without dogs would be… hell.

Go in peace, Latte.

[roxyfoxgamer150]

Mirabel where her gift is that she has a wolf, a bear, and an eagle as her companions

The wolf is green and has a few spikes on its back

Eagle is yellow and as big as she is when she was five

The bear when standing on its hind legs can look into the second floor easily

Mirabel loves them while everyone… I’ll leave that up to you

Mirabel was letting Antonio pet the wolf's head but not it's back, Antonio was gushing over how cute her wolf companion was. Luisa was trying not to hug the eagle to death. While the others are absolutely concerned if the bear woukd accidentally break Casita like how they all did.

Alma coughed to gain her attention. "Uh- Mira mi nieta, please tell your... friends.. to uhm, leave the Casita? We need to talk about how the f**k would we fit your bear companion in Antonio's room."

Everyone gasped or choked on air when they heard Alma swear, even the animals were shocked.

"Mama! Not infront of Antonio!" Pepa covered Antonio's ears while he looked in confusion.

"Abuela! Fredrico couldn't even fit through the door! What made you think mi amigo would fit in through a normal one without hetting hurt!?" Mirabel exclaimed, trying to hug her bear companion Fredrico, only to hug his snout because he's so big.

Rhouhr, the green wolf, rolled her eyes, and began to talk to Antonio.

"Rhouhr said that maybe Casita could make a tower for Fred that has a very big door!" Antonio exclaimed happily.

Unfortunately, Casita could not, infact, make a door for an animal.

The eagle, Soarin, was trying to measure Fredrico with a measuring tape. Parce the jaguar helping him by grabbing one of the ends of the tape.

Soarin sqawked at Parce, so Parce roared at Antonio, making him translate. "Fredrico is at least 10 feet tall, 18 feet tall when standing on two legs."

That froze all of them, even Mirabel and her three animal friends.

"WHAT!?"

"GREAT! NOT ONLY WILL WE HAVE MULTIPLE WEIRD COLORED ANIMALS, WE HAVE A 10 FEET TALL ONE!"

"Pepa! You have a fog! And why is it covering your whole face for real?"

"Mama I'm very confused how the hell is he ten feet tall."

Mirabel and Rhouhr looked at each other with one raised eyebrow. Already regretting befriending each other even when one is a gift.

Soarin facepalmed.

[lady-rose-moon]

I have you || Chapter Thirteen ||

Hello to those who tuned in and welcome back to I have you!

The link to my main masterlist is ~~here~~

The link to my I have you masterlist and previous chapters is ~here~

Chapter Twelve | Masterlist | Chapter Fourteen

Please comment and reblog, it means a lot!

The thrill of proposing to his beloved soon washed away as Thor and Loki appeared on the island as far north as Asgard could go.   

Loki stared at the huge trees and the overgrown grass. If you had told someone that this place had once been a well-sought-out attraction for Aesir wanting to get away from daily Asgardian life, they wouldn’t believe you anymore. Barely any Aesir spoke of this place after Odin spread rumours of a vicious beast running through the woods of the getaway. Odin told everyone that Fenrir was a monster and if anyone were unlucky enough to come face to face with the beast, they would not live to tell the tale.  

The trees reached to Valhalla as Thor and Loki walked, having to cover their mouths to prevent unknown insects from getting into them. They knew that this place had been left abandoned just as it was. A holiday house still stacked with food and serene water surrounding the whole island. If someone wanted to live here, they might enjoy it. Except, of course, if you had to live here long past its decay. Fenrir Lokison lived among these tall trees, chained to a rock with the strongest metal made by the dwarves of Niðavellir. An impressive banishment for a beast but not for a child of merely ten in the eyes of Midgardians.  

A rustle of leaves to their left gave Thor and Loki pause. For one, they knew that they did not bring any Einherjar on this quest. Second, they knew without a doubt that no animals lived on this island after all being eaten by Fenrir in just over sixty years of his banishment. So, his son was here, and he was close. Loki summoned the scissors that he had found in Odin’s room that would free his son from banishment and he bit his lip as he stared ahead.  

A snarl from their right made Thor lift Mjolnir and charge into the treeline leaving Loki on his own. Sighing, the younger Prince took in the sounds around him, and he refused to feel fear for his son as he continued down the path that looked like it had been trekked numerous times. Fenrir had come across this path in his centuries of waiting. Loki felt a pang of guilt as he imagined his beautiful son slowly driven mad by such isolation.  

One moment, Loki knew he was standing on two feet and the next, he was tackled to the floor by a humungous wolf.  

“Fenrir, my darling?” Loki stared up into the snarled jaws of the fabled beast that roamed this island. His beloved son, his beloved Fenrir was standing on top of him, paws pressed into Loki’s small chest. He had grown to become the size of the trees on all four paws and Loki didn’t even want to find out how big his eldest son was when stood on his hind legs.   

The lone wolf glared down at his father before tilting its head curiously and sniffing him, recognising the scent of a man that he thought was merely a dream for the eight hundred years that he had been stolen. He had come to think that his father would never come to rescue him but now... this scent was his father. He had come after so long!   

Stroking a loving hand over the fur of Fenrir’s cheek, Loki frowned and looked up into the green eyes of the first son that Angrboða had blessed him with. He had never wanted his son to suffer. He had wanted to watch Fenrir grow and thrive on Asgard with his brothers as Loki had done with Thor; that would’ve been his ideal life.   

Fenrir wanted to be hugged by his father, he was so close to him for the first time in a few hundred years! Sniffing the small Asgardian, Fenrir confirmed that this small man beneath him was his father. His father had once been bigger than him! He had wanted to stay with his father more than anything and now, they were reunited! Whining, the large dog got off his father and walked over to a large cave entrance with his massive tail swaying with his excitement. Loki followed, laughing at the eagerness of his son.   

Entering the cave, Loki saw how Fenrir had scratched into the walls for every year that he had been trapped here. Sighing, Loki strode over to the bottom of the chain, unleashed the scissors that could cut him free and snapped the chain in half. The moment he was free, Fenrir howled with excitement and bounded from the cave and into the treeline, lost to the silence of the forests. Thor emerged from the treeline shortly after to see his little brother standing at the mouth of the cave with a sad smile.   

“Is something wrong, brother?” Thor asked and Loki didn’t even look at Thor as he frowned deeply, staring longingly out into the darkness of the trees.  

Sighing, Loki patted Thor’s shoulder and smiled softly as he started walking down the old path leading to the docks that were once too far for Fenrir to reach with the chains. When they arrived, they saw Fenrir waiting eagerly for them, sat on the land just next to the small dock with his tail wagging happily as he looked down at Loki expectantly. With a soft smile, Loki walked over to his son and held out his hand, a soft brush of fur against his palm was all that it took to turn his son into his human form.   

The young boy fell into his father’s expecting arms and was easily sleeping the moment that he hit the firm chest of the man who helped bring him to life. Loki sighed in relief and held the young boy to him with a tired smile, relieved to have his first son safely in his care once more. Hundreds of years had led to this moment and Loki savoured it, picking up the young boy and climbing aboard a boat that was waiting for them. Loki would bring Fenrir to meet you and then, they would be off to Midgard for you to continue your rule and for Loki to find Jörmungandr.   

Thor watched as Loki cradled the small boy and smiled gently when he realised that this was his true brother, unguarded and a loving father under all the armour he had built over the years. Thor would give anything to see that smile on Loki’s face more.   

When they arrived back at the Aesir castle, Thor guided Loki into the family quarters where you were laying, Sleipnir draped over your lap dramatically as he had his nose in a book. Loki smiled fondly at the sight of his son and fiancée getting along so well.  

Turning your head, you smiled lovingly when you saw Loki stood by the door, Fenrir curled lovingly in his strong arms. Reaching a tired hand out, you smiled happily as Loki walked over, “my handsome prince!”  

Loki chuckled and kissed your knuckles before holding your delicate hands, admiring the artwork done to your nails. They were a forest green with a golden Yggdrasil on the middle finger and the branches reaching out to wrap around the other nails until they delicately swirled to a stop at the bottom of the nails.   

“Did you and our son have fun?” Loki asked as he left your side to lay Fenrir on the sofa beside the fire, admiring how the orange glow lit up his son’s face perfectly to show all the features that he had inherited so much from himself. He could also see the images of Angrboða in his son. His nose, his chin, the shape of his eyes… everything like that belonged to Angrboða’s genes was prominent. However, everything else that Fenrir had belonged to Loki Laufeyson.   

You sighed and sprawled yourself out on the sofa, a hand lying atop the barely noticeable bump of your stomach, “it went great. Sleipnir has been a bit of a menace but he now knows that you and I are having a little one so he’s excited but also a bit jealous.”  

Humming to show you that he wasn’t ignorant, Loki turned his attention to the dying embers of the fire, adding a few more logs, and blowing on the flame so that it might burn brighter. When it did, Loki turned to look at you with a soft smile and shrugged, “that sounds like a Lokison if I ever did hear one.”  

A soft mumble came from beside you and Loki stood instantly, picking Sleipnir up and spinning with him carefully so that the child would not become nauseated from the spin, “mummy’s home, little one.”  

Sleipnir opened his eyes and smiled brightly at his mummy, wrapping his arms around his neck and nuzzling close to Loki’s body for his warmth. His beloved son was amazing in every way and Loki knew that when the time came, his son would become one of the most powerful mages of his sons and the deadliest warrior.   

Kneeling beside Fenrir, his youngest in his arms, Loki gently shook his eldest sons arm and smiled brightly when he lazily opened one eye to question what Loki wanted when he saw his littlest brother.  

“Well, aren’t you a surprise?” Fenrir smiled and looked to Loki for permission before picking Sleipnir up and studying him with keen interest, admiring how much Sleipnir resembled Loki even more than Fenrir did. In that moment, Fenrir realised that this child was his newest one to protect, “what’s your name, littlest brother?”  

Sleipnir watched his big brother with keen curiosity before a bright smile lit up on his face, “Sleipnir Lokison! You? How you know mummy?”  

Fenrir looked confused for a moment before seeing Loki pointing to himself with an amused smile. That was a question to be asked later on, then. “Ah, I see! Well, littlest brother, I am Fenrir Lokison. I am the first born!”  

Sleipnir let out the cutest squeal when he realised that one of his big brothers had been brought home and he cuddled close to the boy, his head rested comfortably on the boy’s shoulder as he smiled up at him, “hi! Mummy always talked about you and I’m so glad you’re home!! Mummy is too, right mummy?”  

That made both boys look to the God of Mischief, who was on his knees behind them furiously wiping tears from his eyes as he watched his beloved children bonding together. This was all that the God had wanted in his life, his children together for the first time. They were going to be together for the first time and this time, Odin wasn’t around to meddle. “I’m just so happy that everyone is finally coming together!”  

“Oh father, please don’t cry,” Fenrir sniffled and shuffled off the sofa and into Loki’s arms with his littlest brother still in his own. “Father, we wanted to come back for so long... we didn’t want to go; we don’t blame you either... We were taken, I’m assuming, on Odin’s orders. Damn that man for dying before I could sink my teeth into his...”  

“Fenrir Lokison!” you piped up, glaring over at the eldest son of Loki, “Never speak that name. Especially not in front of your little brother. Please, Sleipnir suffered the most.”  

Fenrir nodded gingerly and held Sleipnir on his lap as he cuddled up to Loki with a gentle smile. The young prince was happy as he could be when in his father’s arms. Then, he looked up again at you, “wait... you’re not my mother. Where’s mama?”  

Loki frowned as he looked at Fenrir, hating that he had to talk about this so soon, “let’s not discuss this right now, ok? This is not for little ears...”  

That gave all the clues that Fenrir needed, and he pushed away from Loki, tenderly sitting Sleipnir on the couch before walking onto the balcony and gripping the edge tight, tears falling down his cheeks. His mother was dead. His father was here and had saved him from his fate to die on that blasted island. But mama was dead so what use was there to live?  

A gentle hand was placed on the boy’s shoulder and he looked over at you with a frown, allowing you to envelop him in a hug and he bawled into your shirt, the tears dampening your shirt though you were uncaring to the fact.   

“It’s alright now, Fenrir, I have you. You’re safe and we will put this family back together again,” you mumbled, and Fenrir nodded, finally feeling safe for the first time since his banishment.  

You watched the eldest Lokison in contemplation, knowing that now that Fenrir knew Angrboða was dead, he wouldn’t want you to replace his original mother.   

Fenrir, hearing your silence and understanding you almost instantly, hugged you tighter and nuzzled his head further into your chest, “I’ll heal. Sleipnir has healed and so has father apparently. You are a perfect fit for him, Y/N, not as quiet as mother was. You have fire and it ignites whenever you come to a challenge, I can smell it. Your child with father will also be a very special one, like me and my siblings.”  

They remained on the balcony for a while after that, talking and bonding like mother and son. Fenrir confided to you how he was almost insane after his banishment to that island, but he felt like he would be able to heal if given the proper help by his father and the rest of the family. Loki watched them while sitting beside the fire and reading stories to Sleipnir.  

In the middle of the night, a storm was brewing over the beautiful city of Asgard. Thor was still grieving for the loss of King Odin, after all. He had been bringing storms since the day Odin died, keeping it bottled inside only for the storm to blow up while he was asleep.  

Loki had learned to ignore the storms that his brother brought, knowing that his own therapist would be helping the man be able to come to terms with Odin’s death and his instant claiming of the throne. Asgard needed to look strong and so, Thor was blocking away his emotions until he was breaking.   

A lightning bolt flashed in Sleipnir’s room, and the thunder sounded not even half a second afterwards. The young boy jolted awake with a yelp and tears rushed into his eyes. The child was tempted to go bother his mummy and complain to him about how he had been woken up but even Sleipnir knew that if that happened, Thor would not make it another day. King or not.  

So, hesitantly, Sleipnir slipped out of bed and tip-toed down the hallway to where Fenrir had been given his own room; the castle adjusting itself to house another room in Loki’s grand apartment.   

Slowly sliding the door open, Sleipnir slipped into his brother’s room and walked over to the bed. When he got to the bed, he raised a shaking hand and shook Fenrir until the boy awoke, “Fenny! Fenny, I need you…”  

Half asleep, Fenrir glared down at Sleipnir before sighing and lighting the candle on his bedside table, sitting up in bed and pulling Sleipnir onto the soft mattress with him, “what bothers you, little brother? Is it the storm?”  

Lip trembling, Sleipnir nodded and whimpered softly, crawling onto his brother’s knees and cuddling up to him. Still shocked but nonetheless concerned, Fenrir brought his littlest brother into his arms and swayed side to side while gently stroking his nails against the little boy’s hair. Fenrir remembered this comfort from when he was just a little pup, Loki on one side of him and Angrboða holding him on her knee. His father seemed so happy with Angrboða and he knew that deep down, he still must even if she had been dead for centuries.   

“Fenny?” Sleipnir mumbled and Fenrir smiled, moving the hand in the boy’s hair down to his cheek to wipe away the tears, “do you think we’ll be a full family again?”  

That made Fenrir pause his motions of comfort. He wanted to have his full family, he wanted to meet his full family! However, they were banished to numerous places in the Realms. Loki wanted to find them all and bring them home, but it would take years to rehabilitate them all after so long of being on their own. The only reason Fenrir was only slightly insane was that he held onto a memory of his family. The others, he’d wager, didn’t have strong memories of family.  

“I want us all to come home, Sleipnir. Father deserves that much... we were all stolen from him so early and I know that he’s terrified it’ll happen again. Sleipnir, please promise me something... promise me that no matter what, you will always welcome our family home,” Fenrir looked down at his brother, who nodded and curled back into Fenrir’s embrace.  

Sleipnir didn’t even notice the storm outside the castle anymore, too busy enjoying the comfort that his biggest brother could give him. He knew that Fenrir was attached to him, wanting to protect him just as much as Loki did. Sleipnir was happy to have such loyal family members.  

Just outside the door, a proud parent smiled at the two of them and returned to his fiancée in bed. He was happy to have his family. Happy to have his fiancée.  Happy to finally, finally, be free.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@lokisgoodgirl @lokisninerealms @evelyn-kingsley @slpnbty2001 @jennyggggrrr @hahaha12123445 @ozymdias @holdmytesseract @itsybitchylittlewitchy @lovingchoices14 @xorpsbane @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbs @nerdy-fangirl-65 @lonadane @silverfire475 @chantsdemarins @iamsherlocked1479 @kittiowolf210 @just-someone11

[localvoidcat]

FMR Werewolves description

Informations on their appearances under the cut.

Werewolves (and were-beasts in general, but we’re focusing just on the wolves here) have three different forms they can take on: Human form, Feral/Wolfman form, and Wolf form.

Human form appears nearly completely identical to a human, however there are some noticeable differences. These include pointed ears, sharp teeth similar to that of a canine’s, faster growth of hair, and thicker nails. In some rare cases, lycanthropes will have larger irises which conceal the sclera, or eyes in colors found only in canines, such as yellow or pale gray.

Feral/Wolfman form is a mix between Human form and Wolf form, appearing as a humanoid being with fur on the skin, thicker hair resembling a mane, a muzzle and snout, eyes in the same color as that of the Wolf form, clawed hands, digitigrade legs with feet similar to paws, more teeth appearing in the mouth, as well as lengthened furred ears capable of movement, around seven inches in length, and a tail extending down from the spine, around ten to twenty inches long. Fur/hair commonly grows on the arms, chest, legs, on the sides of the face, and down the back, all the way to the end of the tail. It should be noted that the person appears to be a couple inches to a foot taller in this form, and the fur is not as thick as compared to a fully transformed state. Vocalizations range from human voices through means of growls to howls near identical to that of a wolf’s.

Wolf form appears as a bipedal wolf-like beast, ranging from six to ten feet tall, with fur covering the entire body, long pointed ears at the top of the head, disproportionately long limbs with paws at the hind legs and clawed hands at the front legs, a full muzzle and snout, with a jaw full of sharp teeth to go with it, eyes in hues of typically gold, gray, amber, or blue, a long wolf tail extending down the spine, a mane of fur around the neck, and unnaturally sharp claws at the hands and feet. In this form, vocalizations are identical to a wolf’s, but louder and deeper. Transformed lycans tend to walk on two legs and shift to four when running, hence their enlightened limbs. The bite force of a fully transformed werewolf is 1500 psi, making them deadly hunters when it comes to humans, their primary targets.

[writingwithfolklore]

Folklore Friday: The Bray Road Beast

Last week our legend was broad and fairly global, so this week I wanted to do something a little more grounded in a specific place. I’m sure some of you have heard of it already—the Bray Road Beast or also known as The Wisconsin Werewolf.

This story takes place in Wisconsin between 1936 and 1999. The first sighting is said to be in 1936 along Highway 18, where a driver noticed someone digging off the side of the highway. He slowed down to see, and discovered a large, hairy creature that stood on its hind legs. He drove off, but apparently returned the next night, and found it again. This time the beast growled at him, then ran off.

Another report, around the same area in 1964, saw a seven-foot tall creature with dark brown hair and a “dog-like” face run across the road and escape into a corn field.

Next was in 1972, in the same rural area, where a woman reported an eight-foot tall, dark haired beast that stood on two legs and bore sharp claws trying to break into her house—attacking her horse when it couldn’t get in.

Then, in 1989 the creature arrived in Elkhorn, where it is most infamous. A woman reported a similar creature to those that came before. Thus began the sightings along Bray Road.

Next, two more in 1989, then 1990, and 1992.

Finally, the report that gained this creature its infamy. 1999, along Bray road, Halloween night. A woman was driving when she thought she had hit something on the road. She stopped and got out to check, when a large, dark, hairy creature ran towards her. She quickly got back into her car and drove away, where the beast then jumped onto the trunk, but couldn’t hold on and fell off behind her.

Apparently, the woman returned later that night where she saw a large figure laying on the side of the road, and she retreated once again. She reported the next day, and an influx of other reports were shared.

In every story, the Bray Road Beast shares similar traits. It’s large (around 6 to 8 feet tall), stands on two legs, and covered in dark fur like a wolf or bear.

The most interesting story I could find of a first-hand account was one in Franklin, Wisconsin between 1997 and 98. A couple of friends noticed a large creature with human-like legs but a wolf-like upper body and head across their back yard, standing on the street. It appeared to be hunched over, breathing deeply, and stayed there for half an hour until the witness’s father approached with a large light to shine on the creature.

The bright light scared the creature away, and it took off into the brush next to the road on two legs.

Chilling, huh? While there have been some reports in more recent years, the last conclusive report I could find was 1999. Since then, the Beast’s legend has spread, but the beast itself has never been caught. If you’re looking for more, a reporter by the name of Linda Godfrey who investigated the story wrote a book about it called The Beast of Bray Road: Tailing Wisconsin’s Werewolf, which may be a good place to start.

If you happen to find yourself along Bray Road after the sun has set, let me know if you notice any large figures hunched over off the side of the road, or any tracks over ten feet long. There’s always a chance the Bray Road Beast will appear again..

Don’t just take my word for it!

The Wisconsin Werewolf Sightings (gods-and-monsters.com)

14 Facts About The Beast Of Bray Road, The Creepiest ‘Animal’ You’ve Never Heard Of | Thought Catalog

The Beast of Bray Road, Wisconsin – Legends of America

[nazezdha321]

ev what is your least and most favourite dinosaur

DINOSAURS YES LET'S TALK ABOUT THEM

maiasaura is my current favorite dinosaur! its name means good mother reptile or good mother lizard because when remains were found, paleontologists also found nests with eggs, embryos, and babies in a nesting colony! that indicated that maiasaura would have fed its young while they were in the nest, and the discovery was the first time that paleontologists had evidence for a giant dinosaur of feeding and raising their babies, so they named it maiasaura :'] these findings in 1978 and 1979 led to so many other discoveries that the area, the two medicine foundation, is now commonly referred to 'egg mountain' in western montana.

it lived in the late cretaceous period about 76.7 million years ago, was a herbivorous saurolophine hadrosaurid (duck-billed, named for their flat snouts that resembled a duck's). it was also a euornithopod. it was about thirty feet long, 8.2 feet tall, and had these spikey crests in front of their eyes that scientists theorize could have been used during headbutting contests between males during mating season. most of the hadrosaurs don't really have a lot to defend themselves with, and maiasaura follow this pattern, so they probably fled in times of danger. they do have strong legs and massive tails, though, and studies of the stress patterns on their bones show that younger maiasaura, less than four years old, probably walked around on their hind legs before they grew larger and walked on all fours. studies of bone also indicate that hatchling maiasaura did not have fully developed legs and was incapable of walking, another factor in concluding that maiasaura brought food to their young. over 200 specimens have been found of various ages, but they likely laid around 30 to 40 eggs at a time, in nests made of earth, about the size of ostrich eggs.

they lived in an area covered by montana, us, and alberta, canada, mostly in forests and woodlands. they lived in massive herds, possibly of up to ten thousand other dinosaurs. studies have constructed one of the most detailed life histories of any dinosaur known, so we can conclude a lot about this dinosaur and compare it to others!

we don't know when exactly maiasaura went extinct, but if they lived until the end of the cretaceous period, then they lived until the meteor hit around 66 million years ago.

tldr: giant vegetarian dinosaur that fed and raised its babies with many other friends !!

as for least favorite... i don't really have one? i think t-rex is beloved but overrated, but that doesn't make it my lesat favorite. if i was gatekeeping dinosaurdom i might say urbacodon, because they look objectively too much like a bird to be a dinosaur, but a lot of dinosaurs probably had feathers that we don't know about so <3

thank you so much for the ask lumi!!

[oddsnendsfanfics]

The (Mis)Adventures of Kal and Moose – Kal-entine's Day

Genre: Fan Fiction

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Warnings: Fluffy Valentine’s Day

Rating: G

Length: Drabble

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Because everyone needs Kal and Moose in their lives. Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! 

Henry Cavill Master List

Valentine's Day.

A day of love.

A day of romance.

A day for couples to declare their undying love, while single people sat at home with a box of chocolate sulking.

For the last few years, Henry was the latter. He was no stranger to sitting home on “the most romantic day of the year”, feasting on some chocolate from a heart shaped box. Although he didn't recall much sulking.

You on the other hand, were never one to celebrate or sit in on Valentine's Day. Even single, you found an excuse to go out for the evening. Oh the looks you would get, while taking yourself out for a fancy dinner.

This year was different.

It was going to be low key, but no doubt still fun. The best part, Kal and Moose weren't home alone waiting.

“I'm going to need you to do me a big favour, okay pig.” Henry glanced down at Kal who was sitting by his side, watching every move Henry made in the kitchen. “You and Moose need to be the best boys that you can. No mayhem this evening.”

Licking his lips and yawning, Kal huffed as his tail thumped heavily on the floor. He was slightly insulted, when had he and Moose ever caused mayhem? They were the most perfect best boys, ever! What did Henry think he was doing, talking as if they were a couple of uncultured stray dogs.

Walking along the familiar street, you glance down at Moose, sniffing along Kal's street he huffed and picked up his speed. Almost there! A few more minutes and he would be with his best friend, romping and stalking that damn green ball that made that atrocious noise every time it moved. Tonight, maybe, just maybe, they would finally give that thing what it had coming.

“Are you and Kal going to be good?” You ask the unconcerned dog. “Hmm? Play with Kal's toys nicely and not tear Henry's house apart?”

Moose snuffled, whatever that meant. Of course they would be good, they were always good. Ugh, humans.

Stepping onto the front stoop of Henry's home, you asked Moose to sit while you checked to see if the front was unlocked. It wasn't surprising that you would simply walk in, if the door was unlocked. Henry rarely knocked at your place, most times he would be in the house and standing beside you before you took notice.

“Knock, Knock.” You call pushing open the door. Moose whimpers and yips, tugging on his leash. Unhooking his leash, you laugh when he jumps forward nearly knocking into Henry as he tries to get to Kal. “Remember boys, make good choices.”

“Good evening,” Henry smiles taking your coat and hanging it. “I uh, I'm glad you could make it over.”

“Of course, thanks for inviting us over.”

Wow, this was awkward. As much time as the two of you spent together, it shouldn't be this weird or awkward. Biting your bottom lip, you follow Henry into the house, stopping on the way to the kitchen to give Kal a nice scratch behind the ear. He and Moose were already at home on the couch, a few toys between them, as they happily sprawled out.

“Be good, Moose.” You wag a finger playfully at the red aussie, giving him a kiss on the nose. “Wow it smells good in here.” Inhaling deeply, you take a moment to appreciate the smell wafting from the kitchen.

Henry smiled proudly, quickly kissing your cheek. “Spiced fish and coriander rice, with peas.”

“Oh my god, this smells like heaven. Did you make this?”

“Of course.” Henry laughs slightly. “I can't promise it will be the best, but I think it has flavour.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You tug at the sleeves of your sweater.

“Have a seat? Sorry to rush you, but I wanted to get this on the table, while it's still hot.”

“Are you kidding? I will never feel rushed when there is food.” Laughing you grab the bottle of wine from the cupboard, along with two glasses and tote them to the table. The usually cluttered table is clear of all debris, a soft grey linen cloth draped on top, along with an arrangement of rather lovely scented candles. “I like the look. Going formal are we? Shit, I should have dressed up.”

“Non sense, you look lovely.” Henry chuckled, he had put more effort into the meal and table than he had planned. All last minute of course.

“And you look...” You glance at his casual jeans and tshirt. “I like that red.”

“Flattery?” Cocking his brow, Henry held back a laugh. Teasing you. “You feeling okay?”

“I feel fine, now let's eat.” You gesture to the plates in his hand. The fragrant smell is torture, it should be illegal to make you wait to taste food that looks and smells that good.

Seated, you can't help but sit inhaling the aroma wafting from the plate in front of you. Evidently Kal and Moose have picked up that it is dinner time, their respective paw steps coming from the living room. Attempting to look innocent, Kal slides in under the table his large body bumping against Henry's legs. If he is trying to be stealthy it is not working out. Moose takes a bold approach, sitting a few inches from the table he lifts his head and sniffs.

A low growling noise, he licks his lips and bounces to his hind feet before sinking back down into a sit.

“Moose, go.” You wave him away.

“Kal, stop licking my ankle.” Henry shakes his leg, Kal's cold wet nose hiking up the cuff of his jeans. “Kal, go on.”

“Moose, you know better.” Eyeing the dog you can't help but smile. “Worse than kids.”

“I would hope my children didn't hide under tables licking my feet.” Bursting into a laugh, Henry shakes his leg away from Kal. “Kal, go on. Go on boys, I will feed you after.”

Dejected and clearly starving, the two dogs slink back to the couch. At least they had tried for a scrap or even a scratch. Ending their plans, they sulk the entire ten feet that they walk. Poor dears. How ever will they survive? Knowing that dinner is waiting for them, you feel no guilt or sympathy. Spoiled is the only word to describe the pair of them. Worse than children, getting everything they want and acting like they are ignored when they don't.

“If you ever want to quit acting, I think you have a career in culinary.” You compliment reaching for the riesling that Henry had nearly expertly paired with dinner.

“There is more, I have a raspberries and cream or...”

“Wait, there is more? Oof, I may need a moment to let this digest.” You laugh lightly. Henry had gone all out this time. “You have really spoiled me.”

“I may be bias, but I think you deserve it.”

“Oh really? And why is that?”

“I have my reasons, all which are very good but escaping me in this moment. Trust me, when I say, I thoroughly enjoy getting to make you dinner. It's nice having someone to spend time with, especially today. It's been a while since I've had someone to spoil on Valentine's.” Henry picked up his glass, taking a drink of his wine. Licking his lips, he coughed lightly. “The last few years I have been making today all about Kal. Kalentine's Day, if you will. A nice bath, a good grooming, extra time at the park.”

“Sounds like a great way to spend the day.”  

“It may be a bit late for the park, but I could offer a nice bath. Perhaps a foot rub?”

“All would be acceptable, as long as you don't take Kal's approach. I'm not much into having my feet licked.” You can't help yourself, it sort of slipped out. Nearly choking Henry in the process. Wine sputtered from his mouth, avoiding spitting it on you, he manages a napkin. His face red and his chest heaving with a silent laugh.

“Noted.” He gasps, caught between surprise and laughter. “Well, dessert then?”

Henry had tried to clear the table without your help, as if. Little good did it do, the second he stood you were on his heels carrying your plate into the kitchen. He rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything about it. He had learned not to argue with you, it would be futile. Keeping his protests silent, Henry watched as you loaded the dishwasher, humming quietly.

Dessert plated, Henry motioned for you to lead the way to the table. As nice as the table looked, you were more than happy to relax on the couch - even if it meant kicking Kal and Moose, the poor souls, to the floor. Diverting course, Henry followed, the two of you chatting about the latest family gossips. He was telling you about his nephew Oscar, when you gasped and stopped short.

Nearly bumping into you, Henry caught himself and both of the desserts that he had in his hand. On the floor of his living room there laid the evidence. All around were pieces of red and brown material. White cotton stuffing littered the room and the look on Moose's face told you nearly everything.

“Moose,” You groan looking at the stuffing flung around the room. The Aussie looking innocent, yet the clump of red material in his mouth is giving him away. “You tore up Kal's stuffy.”

“Stuffy?” Henry's eyes widened. “Oh shit. Shit.”

“What? What's wrong?” You watched as he placed dessert on the coffee table, rushing the to tall shelf that sat behind his couch.

At least he still had the flowers, well shit. His face fell when he found them smashed to the floor and trampled.

“Well,” He rubbed the back of his neck, gesturing to the mess in his living room. “Happy Valentine's Day. I had planned on giving you a present, but...”

“Oh, Henry.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I'm so sorry. I... Moose!”

“No, no. It's fine. It's not entirely his fault.” He glanced at Kal, holding the head of the teddy bear in his mouth, “There is only one of them who could have reached it. Eh, bear?”

“Boys,” You sigh and shake your head.  “Wait,” You glance curiously at Henry, giving him a sly smirk, “did you say you got me a gift? It's not my birthday. Nor it is Christmas.”

“No, but it's Valentine's Day.” Henry shrugged debating to salvage the gift or move on. “I wanted to do something nice, since....well.”

“Oh! Right.” You can't contain the smile that overtook your face in seconds. “I um, I honestly thought this was just us having dinner as...well friends?”

“And it can still be that, absolutely.” Henry nodded. “I don't want to impose or push anything.”

Stooping to pick up a few pieces of what used to be a teddy bear, you scratch Kal behind the ears and take a seat on the couch. "You're not imposing anything. I just didn't know what we were. Or if we were anything. I thought that I'd come over as a friend and...you know what, let's not bother with this now. We can talk later, sit let's have dessert. I am dying to try this raspberry cream.”

Henry sits beside you, reaching for the dessert bowls, to find one empty. “Moose,” he looked at the dog with red cream on his snout. “I swear to god,”  laughing, he hands you a spoon. “Care to share?”

“Well, well, well.” You take the spoon shaking your head, playfully. “Henry Cavill is sharing dessert?”

“They destroyed your present and this is the only dessert, the least that I can do.”

“I wouldn't be against that bath,” You scoop some of the cream from the bowl, “but no feet.”

“No feet.” Henry laughed, his chest rumbling and his eyes crinkling. “Got it.”

[whitepolaris]

Devil Monkeys

Encountering a huge hairy creature as you’re on a peaceful hike in the woods can be unnerving. But what frightens Virginians more may be other giant primates known as Devil Monkeys. Red-eyed, cave dwelling, and aggressive to dogs and possibly to man, these creatures are nothing like the rather shy Bigfoot. 

Witnesses say that the beasts that have come to be called Devil Monkeys are baboon- or doglike, with dark, “mean” eyes and pointed ears. They have short to shaggy hair, varying in color from gray to red to black. Their large flat feet ten to narrow somewhat as they length in adulthood. Footprints are usually about twelve inches long, but tracks up to fifteen inches have been found. Each foot bears three rounded toes, usually of the same size and length, with regular spacing between each one. 

Their leaping mode of locomotion is one of the major reasons that some observers have confused Devil Monkeys with kangaroos. In Virginia, as well as some other southern states, it appears we may be dealing with a kind of giant baboon, but one that leaps as kangaroos do. Thus the files of cryptozoologists-researchers who specialize in the study  of animals unknown to mainstream science-have been filled with reports of “mystery kangaroos” that may in fact be the Devil Monkey. 

Many eyewitnesses have commented on the creatures’ aggression; they don’t back down when confronted by dogs and humans. Though generally thought to be vegetarians, they may kill livestock and small game. To add to the hair-raising picture, they exhibit a wide range of primate hoots, calls, screeches, whistles, and “blood-chilling screams.” And to top things off, they smell bad, very bad. So bad that some people call them Skunk Apes. 

In 2000, cryptozoologist Chad Arment examined the sightings of creatures that may have been Devil Monkeys experienced by one Virginia family, the Boyds, and their friends. The sightings stretched over a long period, from 1959 to the 1990s, in the mountains around Saltville. It started when the parents of ghost investigator Pauline Boyd and James Boyd experienced a 1959attack on their automobile by a creature that had “light, taffy colored hair, with a white blaze down its beck and underbelly. . . . It stood on two large well-muscled back legs, and had shorter front legs or arms.” It left three scratch marks on the car, apparently put there by its front limbs. 

Arment quotes Pauline as saying, “Several days after this incident, two nurses in the Saltville area were driving home from work early one morning, and were attacked by an unknown creature who ripped the convertible top from their car.” The nurses managed to escape without injury, though they were badly shaken. 

Two friends of Pauline’s recorded a recent encounter, also from a car, of a similar creature near Saltville. The beast crossed the road in front of them, jumped a ditch line, went over a fence, and the moved through the high weeds lining the road, only to disappear into ground cover. 

Pauline Boyd said, “According to all witnesses, this animal was unlike any they had seen before. Walking on all four legs, it stood around three feet high. Covered in shaggy, rough, graying brown fur, it had a long muzzle and small pointed ears. The legs of the creature were short, with the hind legs  much larger than the front and sporting long, kangaroo-like rear feet. Claws were evident on both the hind and smaller front feet. If this creature had stood on these powerful-looking hind legs, they stated, it would have been at least five and a half to six feet tall. It also sported a long, hairless (opossum-like was the term they used) tail. Though moving quickly, it gave the appearance in its gait and gray mottled fur of being an older animal. They watched in amazement as it quickly disappeared from sight.” 

Virginia’s Devil Monkeys have never been identified as any known creature. But though their origins elude researchers, the creatures themselves hunt the state to this day.

[goldencorecrunches]

(More LanLan rural vet AU) -- It had been a great idea.

"Look at it this way, at least you'll know we've gotten most of them," Luo Qingyang, their tiny clinic's only full-time nurse, told him. She was visibly trying to keep a straight face. Song Lan glared at her. He couldn't reply with words, because his hands were full of squirming, six-week old puppies. Also his arms, and his shoulders, and from the German Shepherd tugging at his scrub pants, soon his lap as well. 

Song Lan had known, moving from the city to the rural countryside, that there would be some measure of culture shock. When one of the farmers had casually dropped that he didn't vaccinate his puppies, because there were, according to him, "Too many of 'em too fast to bother driving 'em out all that way, before you showed up," he had nearly broken his strict policy of sobriety during work hours.

"They're all going to die of distemper," he had told Wen Qing after the man had left, vaguely aware he was making his Strict Veterinarian Face (it was Lan Xichen who had given it a name, which made Song Lan warm all over, on top of the flush from anger) from the way his temples had started aching. "They're not even on heartworm medication. I'm surprised so many of them survive to get killed by the combine harvester." "Just 'combine,' you sound like you're city folk," Wen Qing had said, ignoring Song Lan's mouthed protestation that he was, which was why he was used to people who kept Lucky and Xiao mi's shots up to date. "Look, these people-- they don't have time, and they don't have money. They're going to focus on the livestock animals they need to keep themselves afloat. It's not cruelly meant. They're doing the best they can." "I know that," Song Lan said, somewhat abashed. He peeled his gloves into the bin by the sink and set about washing his hands as he thought. As always, he had to hunch over the sink, built for a much shorter DVM. Wen Qing's girlfriend had sent her some kind of fancy floral soap, and Wen Qing had delighted in placing it in both exam rooms and the surgery. It was a bit stronger to the nose that Song Lan would've preferred, but he wasn't going to argue with Wen Qing when it came to her girlfriend. The antiseptic covered it up, anyway. "What about a vaccination fair? Or just a day," he said when he had finished drying off. "We used to do them at my old clinic. Bring in your pets, get them up to date. Pass out flyers about common infections. Gets the kids involved, too." "Hm," Wen Qing had said. She'd begun gathering up the used sterile packaging and dumping it in the trash, neatly detouring the needles to the sharps container. "That's certainly an idea." She'd argued him down from all pets to just dogs, and had him separate out areas based on the weeks since puppy birth, to for the older dogs the year or the five-year mark. Song Lan had thought it overly complicated-- he could just ask the humans involved as they came up-- but had acquiesced so as not to cause trouble. He was still learning how to fit in, here. Country folk were a lot more standoffish than city folk, for all they were initially nicer. 

He was very glad now that he'd listened.

"You look busy," said a cheerful voice from behind him. Song Lan finished administering the Bordetella shot to the Border Collie mix Luo Qingyang was holding, giving the pup a scratch behind the ears and juggling the bag of chicken jerky underneath his armpit to keep the mutt-who-definitely-had-Bulldog-in-there-somewhere who was crawling across his shoulders from snatching an unearned reward. He turned, stumbling as the German Shepherd shoved her nose enthusiastically into his muddy shoe laces, and tried to keep his scowl affixed for Lan Xichen's teasing. It was a pointless endeavor; as soon as he caught sight of Lan Xichen's face, glowing in the midday heat, he could feel his mouth pulling up at the corner. He occupied himself boosting the puppy under his left arm higher, propping his waggling tail on his hipbone, to keep his own dopey smile to a minimum. "Shh," he told the puppy, when he yipped and started trying to eat Song Lan's scrubs. The puppy looked up, top canine caught in the loop the brand name tag had once hung from, before Song Lan had cut it off. He was not helping the dopiness meter. "Mister Lan!" Luo Qingyang said, handing the Collie mix back to a child with worried arms outstretched (the dog, unperturbed, began licking every freckle on the child's face). "I'm glad you were able to make it! You brought us-- oh, you didn't have to, put that down. Here, you take this one." She plucked the heavy, stainless-steel carafe from his hand and replaced it with a black-and-tan puppy she summoned from nowhere. Automatically Lan Xichen brought his other hand up to support the puppy's hind legs. The puppy sniffed the pens in the crisply ironed breast pocket and did not find them suitable. Song Lan realized he'd been staring and shuffled his furry passengers away from the jerky again.

"I didn't think to make it cold. It's a warm day, I hope it won't be too hot for you," Lan Xichen was saying, apologetic. The edge of the shadow from the extremely garishly striped outdoor tent Song Lan and Wen Ning had set up cut him right across his handsome face, one eye in the shade, the other squinting into the sunlight. As a teenager, Song Lan had had a movie poster where the actor was highlighted in similar fashion. He had hung the poster on the ceiling above his bed. This is not the time for this was becoming a common repetition in Song Lan's inner monologue when it came to Lan Xichen. "If it has caffeine in it, we'll love you whatever temperature it is," Luo Qingyang assured him, passing Lan Xichen another puppy; nearly identical to the first, but with one black ear instead of two. "This is his sister, they're getting their ten week vaccinations. A bit late, but don't tell their mother that. Do you know how to hold them?" "I'm not entirely useless," Lan Xichen said dryly. He smiled at Song Lan. Song Lan nearly tripped over the German Shepherd again. "Ten weeks, that's...Influenza, Bordetella, Lyme…." "DHAPP," Luo Qingyang confirmed, ponytail bouncing as she nodded. "I'm going over to help Wen Qing with the older dogs, you stay and hold puppies for Doctor Song, yeah?" She patted the male puppy on the head, blew a kiss to the female, and leapt over the barricade of folding chairs to rush to the other side of the tent. A queue was already forming there as Wen Qing argued with a woman in overalls, gesturing angrily. Luo Qingyang slid neatly between them and took the three-legged hound from the woman's arms the same way she had taken charge of Lan Xichen's tea carafe. "You've got a criminal," Lan Xichen said pleasantly, pointing with his chin. Song Lan blinked, and then mentally swore, kneeling so he could free one hand to extricate the Pitbull mix from the open ziplock seal on OL' GRANDAD'S AUTHENTIC CHICKIN STRIPS (Reduced Fat). He pressed the hinge of the puppy's jaw to tug the pilfered treat free, tapping his nose when he tried to whine sadly. Song Lan hadn't gotten his certification yesterday. "Can you hold them while I give the injections?" he asked, waiting for Lan Xichen's acquiescence before struggling to his feet again. Half-way up he felt a pull at his knee. He looked down and saw the German Shepherd, tired of being ignored, had a mouthful of his pants. "No," Song Lan signed; but the dog hadn't been trained in sign language, so she growled playfully up at him, ears pricked. Song Lan reached to do the same trick he'd done on the Pitbull mutt, but he'd not accounted that the other set-down dogs would be investigating the other side of his newly-sniffable legs. With a grassy skid, and a very undignified shout, Song Lan went down. The dirt seemed a lot more solid when he was testing it with his nose and chin. Three of the puppies leapt on his face and began a series of scientific experiments as to whether he was dead or just playing. One slobbery tongue went into his ear. "Are you all right?" Lan Xichen's voice was above him: Song Lan was never, ever going to live this down. He groaned and rolled onto his back, throwing an arm across his eyes and letting the puppies pounce on his hair and ankles. The German Shepherd, looking delighted with herself, sat her ass down on Song Lan's stomach and examined his face, tongue lolling. Despite himself, Song Lan smiled and reached up to rub at her belly. She flopped onto her side (oof) and threw her front paws up so he could gain better access. Her tail beat wildly at the ground beside Song Lan's leg.

"Just…dangle them over my chest," Song Lan signed up at Lan Xichen's looming figure. He was tall. Was this what he looked like to everyone else at the clinic? "I'll do them like this."

"Of course, Doctor Song," Lan Xichen said, carefully solemn.

They looked at each other.

The girl puppy swatted her brother in the nose. Immediately he started crying.

"Shall I get you a cup of tea too, then?" Lan Xichen asked, and Song Lan couldn't help it; he laughed out loud.

"I suppose 'buried in dogs' isn't a terrible way to go," he signed, as Lan Xichen, finally abandoning his masterful attempt, let his grin take over his face. It was blinding. "Yes, if you've got a funnel to pour it through?"

[away-from-anthills]

chapter ten-

It was clear the russet-furred tom was hiding something.

Currantstar looked just as frantic as he was the prior night- darting around; breath light and shaky. Antstar and Stoatslink had to duck behind ferns and stones as they followed him to ensure he wouldn’t realize he was caught.

Usually, ShadowClan cats liked to keep their claws long- even Currantstar had had long, white claws the last time Antstar noticed them. But as the three cats went over the bridge, Antstar realized that Currantstar’s claws had all been chipped so they wouldn’t click as he went over the bridge’s pale wooden tiles. This was all planned in advance. Whatever Currantstar was doing here, it wasn’t something sudden.

The ruddy-colored tom took a sharp turn left, and the two WindClan cats scrambled to follow him.

“We’re on RiverClan territory,” sharply whispered Stoatslink.

“I know,” Antstar replied. “We can just tell them we’re following him.”

It became harder and harder to track Currantstar through the wetlands of RiverClan. The uneven, soft ground felt alien before Antstar’s feet. He turned towards camp as he and Stoatslink slipped between stones. Quite a few warriors were standing vigil for their fallen Clanmates, and the lights of their eyes looked like freckled, colorful stars from this distance.

“We have to be quiet,” he urged Stoatslink. “They’re all up.”

“You said they’ll go easy on us if we just tell them about Currantstar.”

“Does it look like I want to do that?”

Stoatslink looked suspicious at best. “You really like keeping secrets, don’t you.”

“I- never mind that, he’s getting away!”

They turned to see Currantstar make a sprint across a small, winding Thunderpath, just around where the little farm by RiverClan was. They followed him, picking up speed as they traveled parallel to the Thunderpath, carefully watching over their shoulders to avoid the fate that bad befallen the former deputy Rainleap a scant few moons prior.

Suddenly, the russet ShadowClan tom took a step right, into a little subdivision of Twoleg houses that lay just beyond the territory. He relaxed visibly as he did so, shoulders easing into his fur and his tail unfurling. Antstar and Stoatslink followed him from the shadows of the other side of the winding Thunderpath as he trod upon a little sidewalk. Currantstar’s head bobbed as he went, like he was counting each house he passed by- one green one, one pink one, one white one with a red door and a little birdbath in the front. Without looking at the ground, he leapt over an uneven crack in the sidewalk that could have easily tripped him.

“Does he get food here?” asked Stoatslink, his ears drawn back and the side of his lip curled in a look of disgust. “I guess that’s typical ShadowClan.”

But Antstar noted the excitement in Currantstar’s eyes was giddy, and boyish; far beyond the simple, gluttonous pleasures of Twoleg food.

Suddenly, Currantstar stopped in front of a small, periwinkle-covered house longer than it was tall. It had a garage next to it, where a small, plump olive-green monster slept. Two windows, each with a yellow glow, perched on either side of a darker blue door. Curiously, there was a little cat-sized flap on the base of the door. The house looked lived-in, but certainly much tamer, much more organized, far neater than the forests that greeted them only a short walk away, much more unsettlingly perfect than all Antstar had known.

The ShadowClan leader’s long, straight ears perked up. A small figure of a cat became visible in one of the windows. As soon as it was there, however, it disappeared. A few moments later, the flap on the bottom of the blue door began to shake.

One white foot emerged, then the other- out slid a beautiful dilute calico. She was small, but her short, cashmere fur was so neatly groomed it rounded out her features. Her face had a youthful quality to it- a small, curved nose, big teal-green eyes, and ears that seemed to just ever so slightly be rounded. Around her neck was a silvery collar with a stripe of white lace, decorated with a small, shiny jingle bell. She moved through the freshly-cut grass like water and thrust herself into Currantstar’s side, where he purred warmly and leaned into her.

“Why all the urgency, Calypso?” he teased in his smooth, crimson voice. “It’s only been a quarter moon.”

“It felt like a lifetime to me.” She had one of those voices that was light, but silky, with just enough of a darkness that she didn’t seem naïve. It had a unique accent to it- kittypet accent.

Kittypet accent was one of the things the Clan thought most terrifying about kittypets. Twolegs had a unique quality about them in that everything they were near seemed to turn into them. Kittypet accent didn’t have the gruff twang of ThunderClan, the smooth chirpiness of RiverClan, the dry snicker of ShadowClan, the harsh sharpness of WindClan, the nasally quality of SkyClan. No, kittypet accent sounded like Twolegs, and the more a kittypet was around them, they said, the more and more Twoleg they would sound until they were indistinguishable from the big, spider-pawed creatures.

But Calypso only had enough kittypet accent to be strange, foreign- and, therefore, desirable in the way only true mystery is.

“Currantstar, I must tell you something. About last night.”

Currantstar nodded, suddenly looking a touch uneasy. She stepped back, lifting up his scruffy chin with her tail to keep him interested, before she sat down, turning around gracefully.

“So, you know how last night I told you that I wasn’t sure if I was pregnant or not?”

Currantstar looked more and more uneasy. He already had looked to be in a disarray, but now he looked like an unravelling yarn sweater as he twitched and gripped the dewy earth.

“My Twoleg took me to the Cutter. Don’t worry - nothing happened. But I did learn that I am, indeed, pregnant.”

Currantstar looked to be a tad ill, his green eyes flickering with a mixture of emotions. Antstar turned to address Stoatslink, but Stoatslink’s eyes were too glued to the drama unfolding before them for him to notice.

“You look nervous, darling.”

Finally, Currantstar managed to speak something beyond a vague stutter. “The Warrior Code- my mate-“ “You told me your Clan wouldn’t mind. Isn’t ShadowClan quite accepting of it?” Clearly, the red tom had lied to her. But he couldn’t reveal the truth now- no, he had placed himself upon a house of cards, although Antstar could not tell which card was which.

“You’re right,” he said breathlessly. He fell into her shoulder and she curled around him. “You’re going to be a wonderful father. We can split the kits up both ways- half with me and half with you…”

“Doesn’t Currantstar already have a mate?” asked Stoatslink, his eyes still glued to the two cuddling cats in the same way one can’t look away from roadkill.

“He… he does,” said Antstar. “Sleekpetal, his deputy’s daughter. And she’s- expecting his kits.”

Suddenly, the booing that Currantstar had received at the previous Gathering made too much sense. And Antstar made a horrid realization- if not even Currantstar, the paragon, the one who he had wanted to be, was perfect, if even Currantstar was hated by his Clan, if even Currantstar could be two-faced and adulterous behind the calm, charming mask… what chances did that give him?

The two WindClan cats turned to leave, but as they did so, they caught sight of a pair of blue eyes, blue like hot fires, in the distance. Antstar and Stoatslink hid behind a big, boxy black monster as they watched the little tom approach.

Stoatslink seemed positively giddy with anticipation as the bile fascination twisted upon itself. “It’s Whitestone- his deputy!”

Whitestone was an old cat, definitely one of the older deputies. His deaf ears had been chipped at like weathered stones; lumps had began to develop on his hind legs. His tail had a kink in it and hung loosely behind him, the tip dragging against the pavement. He had a permanently-furrowed brow, and his blue eyes were so weary they had developed a tinge of reddish-purple.

“Currantstar,” he called. At once Currantstar seemed to shrivel inward, and he nudged Calypso’s shoulder, trying to get her to turn away. But the dilute calico simply looked puzzled as she backed away two steps, her ears turning lopsidedly as she stared at the white tom.

Whitestone marched onto the grass, and walked up until he was only a whisker’s length away from his leader. He leaned up; his face pinched with suspicion.

“Mind explaining who this is?” he signed.

“Friend of mine,” Currantstar signed back- although it was difficult for him to keep his paws from shaking so hard that they interrupted his attempts to sign.

“Friend?” Whitestone didn’t look like he’d believed a word of it. “Friend. When everyone knows you’ve been sneaking out nearly every other night. When everyone knows you always smell of one molly or another.” He stepped back, indignance boiling in every inch of his body. “And we both know she isn’t the only one you’re seeing.”

“I can explain!” Currantstar yelled out on instinct. Remembering that his deputy was deaf, however, he signed back: “I can explain! Listen-“

“Explain what?” asked Calypso, trying to understand the signing between the two. The sign language the Clans had developed was not a universal one; although certain gestures were universally understood by all cats; she had been left out of the conversation entirely. At least one thing had worked in Currantstar’s favor here.

“You’re too focused on yourself- how you look, how you act, what mollies are fawning over you- to even consider your own Clan. Half of us can’t even go to Gatherings. Why? Because to you, we’re too ugly! We’re a shame to the other Clans, in your eyes- and for why? Everything you do is a façade, Currantstar, and you damn well know it- including whatever you’re stringing this kittypet along for!”

Currantstar stood still.

“You have no reply? What about your mate- my daughter? What about your unborn kits?”

Currantstar shot Calypso a nervous look. She didn’t understand.

Whitestone stood very still, his furrowed brows pushing themselves together into one as he continued to think. Something began to dawn on him, and he stepped back.

“When you made me deputy,” he began to sign, “back when you first became leader. You were courting my daughter.”

Currantstar nodded, seemingly realizing Whitestone had dawned upon some horrid truth.

“You… you made me deputy because you thought it would make her like you more, didn’t you? That’s all?”

Currantstar, again, stood still. His eyes stared directly at the little white deputy, but his mind was somewhere else, like it had taken an exit to keep itself safe and leaving the body alone in its place.

“ANSWER ME!” signed Whitestone frantically. “Did you make me your deputy just because of that? Because it would make you look better?”

Currantstar stood still for what felt like an hour, and then- slowly, surely- he nodded.

Whitestone drew back with a hiss, winding himself, every muscle coiling, his teeth starting to bear as an adder’s did… The white tom sprang. Currantstar dodged the blur, but just barely, and the white tom dragged him back. The two became a red-and-white tangle as they traded blows, Currantstar clearly trying to disengage as Whitestone’s anger grew hotter and hotter.

“Stop! Stop!” yelled Calypso as she began to drag the white tom away- but as she did so, Whitestone raked his claws across Currantstar’s face, creating a massive, nasty gash that framed the underside of his face and went down across the lip to his chin. In panic, Currantstar tried to hold the wound, to stop it from wrecking his otherwise-perfect face- but a part of him had to already know it was too late.

“You’re telling them, when you get back. You’re telling them why you have that gash. Who you’ve been seeing. And why I’ve chosen to resign as your deputy.” Whitestone grimaced with a sort of parental disgrace. “I’m not going to be your deputy just so you can convince my daughter, when you get back home, that you’re the kind of fellow who cares about her. Fickle bastard, Currantstar, you fickle, fickle bastard…”

Whitestone left, his pelt still red in some places where Currantstar had dealt him blows. Currantstar turned to look at Calypso, the slash in his face beginning to swell as wounds tended to do.

“We have to get you cleaned up!” she said, running up to him and analyzing him to ensure no other big wounds had been cursed to him in the fight. “Who was that, though? You seemed to know him.”

“Just some useless rogue,” Currantstar fibbed. “Trust me, everything’s fine.”

“I think I’ve seen enough,” said Stoatslink. He turned to go home, and Antstar followed, down the winding path out the neighborhood into the distant, whispering forest that lay beyond them and yet was so familiar.

 They were silent on the way home, only breaking their contemplation once they crossed into WindClan.

“I mean, I guess Currantstar being like that makes sense,” Stoatslink admitted.

Antstar turned in his tracks. “Makes sense?”

“Yeah.” Stoatslink’s yellow eyes flickered with the light of the stars above them. They were slightly obscured by his large nose bridge, but Antstar could still see the suspicion that hung behind them. “He was too quiet. Too perfect. Too… well, I think all leaders have their dirty secrets. But I knew upon seeing him he had some particularly complicated sets of skeletons under his nest.”

“What do you mean, all leaders?”

“…Well, look! Tatteredstar has killed members of her own Clan, like she did with Rosefire. Tulipstar became leader without being decided on the prior leader or even her Clan; her medicine cat at the time lied to them all because he just happened to like her the most. Pigeonstar has definitely caused the deaths of several cats through needless, petty battle. Currantstar has… well, that. And you.”

Stoatslink’s eyes narrowed into two slits, like he was trying to put a name to something that never had one before.

“I’m sure you’ll have something. If you don’t already have something, that is.”

Antstar had to stop himself from jumping back. Did Stoatslink know? Had he figured it out? Or- even worse- was Antstar a suspect that he was trying to whittle away, slowly, inch-by-inch until he collapsed, like vultures scavenging the dead until the body falls apart entirely?

“Anyway, seeing that all unfold was pretty funny, I must say.” Stoatslink stopped at the entrance of the gorse-flower tunnel into camp. “Just remember what I told you about Sparkthistle.”

 It was silent again. Antstar looked up at the stars above him. On a clear night, like this, he could see very far- all the clusters, the entangled shapes the stars made, Silverpelt stretching herself across the sky…

He remembered being a kit, staring up into that deep, wide sky. What was out there? What lay beyond the forest, beyond all he’d ever known?

A part of that magic remained, still, so long as he didn’t think about it too hard, so long as he only looked at it for a short while.

Then, a voice. Pawsteps, light and soft- that of a kittypet’s.

He turned to see Nightblossom. Nightblossom had been one of the cats who were once rogues but had become respectable warriors when Antstar had allowed them in. Her velvety black coat had been disrupted by scratches from the fight earlier that day. Her right ear had been nicked; the notch was still getting torn open, indicating that one day the entire top half of her ear would fall off.

“Can I talk to you about something?”

It had been the first time in a while he had heard her voice. She was quite unlike the other rogues that had been let in: Shrike and Audrey were content in the elders’ den. Juniperfang was a coarse creature who had meshed into the battle perfectly. Lilystone was a strong, silent type, and her ThunderClan-like muscle and stature made her a great fit for the tunnelers. Birchshine was not particularly talented, or intelligent for that matter, but what he lacked in natural gift he made up for in effort and kindness.

But Nightblossom had sunk into the background, like the shadow of a wallflower…

Antstar nodded and let her speak.

“I know I was really excited about joining the Clan with my friends. And… I still think the Clan is great. What it stands for, how everyone works together. But…” She faltered. Her tail slunk to the ground and stood still. “I just… I can’t stand the fighting we did today. And it wasn’t even for us. I don’t want to fight. I… I felt so sick, watching the SkyClan leader and his son…”

Antstar opened his mouth to protest, but already he knew it was too late.

“I want to leave the Clan. I love my friends, and the place, but… I just can’t stand the idea of fighting, let alone for something we really don’t have any part in. I’m not Nightblossom anymore. I’m Stella, like I was before.”

She began to walk away into the black night that bore her former name, her fur peppered with light from the stars above. Already, it was like she was slipping away into nothing.

“I wish you all the best. My friends already know I’m leaving- don’t worry about telling them.”

She walked away, towards the barn, slowly picking up speed like a stone was sliding off her shoulders. She disappeared nearly as soon as she was a strong distance from camp because of her black pelt. A few minutes later, something in Antstar’s heart grew heavy, and that was when he knew she had winked out of the world of the Clans and was gone.

 But Antstar’s mind soon turned away from the black and into the white as another matter came to mind.

Stoatslink.

Horror gripped at him with its long, yellow talons. He couldn’t let Stoatslink die. Sparkthistle had nothing to her name, and was not missed- if she was, it was only her shadow and her what-could-have-beens that were mourned. But Stoatslink was a family man. Two daughters, both soon to take their final apprentice assessments, friends both in and outside WindClan…

But something had to be done. Stoatslink was, after all, practically snaking around the truth, around Antstar. And if Antstar was gone, the political implications for WindClan were dark ahead…

Stoatslink was a threat to the Clan. And he would continue to be a threat as long as he was aware, as long as he was on the trail near the gorge where Sparkthistle had been found. As long as he could nose through the lies- or at least as long as he attempted to.

After all, he was telling his Clanmates that he expected a murderer was on the loose. It was a matter of public security- a panicked Clan catches no prey…

Antstar felt his brain coil as it ran ten thousand tail-lengths a minute. Faster and faster it went, faster and faster he felt his paws go beneath him, until he stopped in the open doorway to the medicine den, breath shaky. As soon as he saw Whitetooth’s teal eyes greet him, he managed to gasp out breathlessly:

“We need to do something about Stoatslink!”