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xsapphirescrollsx · 9 months

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Mesquite Grove

Written: Sep 10 2020

Dark!Syverson x Black Reader

Also this is post is pic heavy. I really just mood boarded a lot to keep me going while I wrote. I modeled the cabin in this story of off Sky Notch. I hope it’s not to much lol and that you enjoy it. Thanks for reading and reblogging!

Autumn sits all around you. Monday, seven a.m and the town is quiet except for a few rushing cars on the highway just off from the store you now occupied. The colors of deep red and orange are dull in the morning haze but it signals change nonetheless. It felt good, for you too were experiencing another season in your life. A new town, another chance to start over. It would have been frightening if you didn’t know that without this, your life might have gone another direction.

You stood there in the doorway, hand on the knob as you opened it completely and pushed a big heavy basketball sized stone at the bottom corner. The cold nipped around your neck and you rushed back. And you waited, a lone dot slowly being enveloped in the heavy fog. This dense cloudy layer covers the town, the trees, the homes, your store and the one across the street.

It was beer delivery day at the liquor store and your turn of the month to stand here and take count of intake. With the door open, behind you pale light from within poured around your body as you stood in the frame. You were one leg out, it was too cold to stand completely in the weather so you stayed half in with the warmth. While watching the truck slowly roll in front of the door and then back in, you took stock of this new you. A year ago, a quiet life seemed so far away, there was a time you enjoyed the sounds of a city that never sleeps and the pace the people moved at. But here, standing in the presence of the singular sound of a truck engine it seemed peaceful.

The truck halted a few feet from the door, tail first, its lights ghostly in the fog and exhaust. You shifted to bat away the puffs of white, it doesn’t last long before a gentle frigid wind carries it off for a moment in another direction. And then there was silence once again with the cutting of the truck’s engine.

For a moment raised voices from the head of the truck mumble over the cracking of gravel. Laughter, low and sardonic of sorts was louder as two men exited. Their stomping upon small pebbles broke the eerie morning time quietness. The first man you saw, a regular on this route greeted you with a wave. Dave, shorter than you but stout in his shoulders and frame offered a smile.

“Hey, long time no see!” he said. You smile as best you can muster for this time of day and pull the clipboard from under your arm. “Haven’t seen you in a few weeks.” he added.

“The four of us take turns. Today was my day..”you said quietly.

“‘Gotta a new helper today.” said Dave, now standing in front of you. He handed a long slip of paper, a receipt of the day's products to be delivered.

“Well, I’m glad,--” Your words and attention are pulled by the sound of a racket coming from the truck. Loud and cumbersome, it was unusual for normally Dave would have slid it more gently. But your eyes landed on the back of Dave’s helper. He had slammed the platform that was hooked on to the door to the ground. The chains on either side still shook slightly from the action.

“--it’ll go faster this time at least.” you said finally and returned to your list.

The sliding of the truck’s cargo door jarred you again.

“Easy.” instructed Dave. “You break this shit we have to go back to the city for another truck.”

Once again you look up to see the man hop from the bed of the truck down to the platform. You didn’t look long. The man was already staring at you from under the rim of his dingy baseball cap. He was bulky and heavy with his footsteps as he strode the short distance to you. What you did see of him, he was large with broad shoulders and a frame built for hard labor you supposed.

“Nice to meet ya,” he said in a smooth voice. It was surprisingly light, and pleasant despite the rugged thick beard that nearly hid his lips.

A greet worth grin, short and tight unfolded upon your lips as you spoke. “Dave’ll show you were to go.”

“You aren’t even going to ask me my name?” asked the man, his smile when bigger as did the delight in his eyes. He slapped the back of his hand on Dave’s shoulder. “I thought you said the folks at The Corner Store were friendly?”

Your eyes bounced from the man to Dave who looked noticeably uncomfortable, but still managed a grin and a shrug.

The man turned back to you, his white teeth shiny in the light from behind you. “I’m Sy.”

“Okay?”

The sarcasm hung between the rushing sound of a car and the shuffling of Dave’s feet. You rolled your eyes back to Dave. “Anything new on the list?” you asked, ignoring Sy as he walked back to the truck.

An hour in and nearly done, Sy follows you through the first trailer lined with a variety of hot beer, winding to the next right entry way he continued to follow you through the second trailer. Once again, this one too held more warm cases of beer. Down the ramp at the end of the trailer he followed you into the main part of the store, fit for retail and held a large selection of spirits and wines in this section. He followed you still passed the counter toward the large fridge where shoppers could browse the sections of glass doors. But that wasn’t the destination. Instead you walked to the end, opened the door, a muscle reflex really, you held the door open for him as he entered too. Cold, though it felt warmer than outside, and packed and stacked into half rows with more selections of beer he followed behind you at the end. Shelving lined the end of the rectangular space, and underneath that was where he was to stack his cargo.

“You’re new here.”

You didn’t bother to turn around, “What gave it away?” you asked.

Sy lightly half scoffed and laughed. “Well this is my hometown. I know everybody here and you’re definitely not a local.”

Not easily swayed by casual conversation you ignored him. But his presence, the largeness of his body is equal to the energy he silently emits. That can’t be pushed aside. Sy waits while you move to the back row and pick up the last flat case of canned ale and place on the stack behind you. With a finger you gesture to that corner and he squeezes between the metal shelves with beer waiting for customers and the stacks of cases on the dolly. From on top of the beer he pushed in he grabbed for five flats of canned spirits and approached you in the corner. Within this space it was incredibly small to begin with. But with him, his broad shoulders and height you quickly become uncomfortable with not having a way out.

He bent over and slammed the cases into the empty spot. He performed this action twice more until he carried the last of it to this area. And then at last, standing in front of you close enough to smell whatever soap he used that morning he reached for the cold case you placed on top of the other beer. He smiled at you, a grin mostly, one you would see from another who had familiarity with the other person.

When he stood, his chest was inches from you. Parts you thought were atrophied spark to life, it had been years since you were this close to a man. The pieces fired up, your skin first, smooth turned bumpy though you blamed the cold and ignored it mostly because then your heart beat harder. Besides the whoosh of the refrigerator unit suspended behind you it was all you could hear in this moment. Sy titled his head slightly with his eyes gliding down from your chest to waist and perhaps further still you were sure. Immediately put off you turned toward the door, it felt so far away now, relief from this weight of him seemed hours away.

“I have to cut a check,” you mumbled and hoped it sounded plausible, it was the truth after all.

Without turning back a short gasp hissed across the sound of the fan. Sy was doubly close, his chest and stomach bumped into yours. Head still turned a bit and you cut your eyes back at him. He was focused on your neck, he leaned in closer and his beard brushed across the skin of your neck as his fingers dug the high collar coat away. You stepped back, well tried - there was no room to step, instead you teetered back against the wood wall, one hand grasped the cases to your right the other placed on his shoulder.

“What-” you asked but then heard a loud sniffing sound from him.

Instantly the chills upon your arms moved up through your shoulders and fizzled all the way down the sides of your spine. He dragged his nose up through your hairline at the back of your neck. A breathy whimper later, your body felt light, yielding at something you hadn’t had in a very long time - connection. Titling your head up at the feeling of small shudders coursing down your back, the feeling was inescapable, untamed and raw.

And then it ended. Sy stepped back, his light eyes dark now stared back at you with something that you recognized as a man starved. He blinked and took off his cap, ran a hand through wild curls and replaced his cap. You stayed there unable to wholly accept what just happened but also, those pieces of you missed whatever that was.

“Sorry about that - I couldn’t resist any longer.”

You wanted to ask the question; resist what? The impropriety begged for argument, to yell and tell him off about crossing your boundaries as men were often want to do. But then you remembered where he stood, where you were too and how many things between you and the door there were.

Adjusting the neck of your jacket your eyes wandered back to the door. “No worries,” you said.

Sy nodded with a smile emerging from his beard. The parts of you separated again, once again in their scattered places you frown at him. “Are you done? Can you get the fuck out of my way?”

Sy stepped aside with his back against the shelving and the other cases of beer underneath it. Internally you scream at the lack of space he offered you but took it anyway. Quickly you step forward, keep your body pressed against the opposite side column of beer and can only manage to brush your arm across his chest as you pass.

You didn’t bother to look back once around the last stack, you strode down the rows of beer hearing the clanging of the dolly behind. No door holding either as you walk out of the fridge door and to the register counter. It wasn’t until you were back behind there and near a phone did you feel normal again. In this dingy old liquor store, at least here with packs of cigarettes and brown spirits did you feel safe.

Halfway through your work week you awoke to the shrill crowing of a rooster. Scrunched up on the side of your full bed your eyes cracked open to the pale morning light bleeding through your curtains. It crooned again and you blinked, brows pushed together as your eyes shot to the fabric slowly moving with the wind from the ceiling fan.

You grabbed your phone on the end table, checked the time: 6:14 a.m.

Shuffling on the other side of the window and the waggle of chicken noises was followed by another crow, this time the thing had to be directly in front of the window.

“God damnit.”

While you enjoyed this house, this space you created into your own vision of a singular life you felt bothered. In the past this sort of interruption in sleep either by sounds of the city or fighting from an adjoining apartment, or even the people you shared the apartment with would have been met with lukewarm animosity. But here, in this home, as you rose from the bed with little more than a shirt on, this chicken with his cawing and carrying on, you thought he might have made a better sandwich than a living thing.

You jerked open the front door and in a flurry of wings and feathers about a half dozen chicken hysterically flapped and scattered. They ran further when you dashed toward them with raised hands motioning them to flee.

At the end of the porch the last chicken jumped over the railing and out into your yard. Wind from your left, the north gusted around your bare legs and up under your thin shirt. Before you began to turn and go back to the warmth of your bed something caught your eye. From your house within the valley, rising upon a crest of a hill a white tin roof gleamed as the rising sun touched it.

You would admit there was never really any concern to know the neighbors. Other than your house, this home about a mile away on the tall mound was the only house to be seen for miles. You still hadn’t met them officially, if people even did that around here.

But their land stretched for as far as your eye could see. Marked by barbed wire fencing and metal stakes coming as close as maybe ten feet from what would be your land. But unlike your side of the fence, which was mowed before the beginning of fall, their grass grew tall and wild, the cedar and mesquite trees were thick, the cactus patches unattended as well.

Besides this morning chicken fiasco, you hadn’t even seen the neighbors. It made you think, just a jolt really that broke up the fuzziness of groggy thoughts, that perhaps the people who lived there did not want to be seen.

Saturdays were never easy, unlike the rest of the work week this day was met with constant customers as opposed to the lazy walkin’s of a Friday night. The liquor store would be closed on Sunday, so the rush to get the drinks for the weekend shook more people lose to come and get their selections. Also, to the side of the store, the park was filled and in the evening was lit up brightly with lights. This was different. Normally it was dark with zero cars or people. Whatever was happening brought even more people in than usual.

Your co-worker, Hyacinth, short and blond went by Cindy mostly, rushed from behind the counter to open the beer cooler for you. As typical, you were the beer roller tonight. Laden down with a variety of beer you rolled it passed the counter where Adeline still stood helping customers make their final purchases.

“I got it!” called Cindy.

“My back is killing me,” you whispered as you rolled past her.

A constant complainer, and as predicted she issued back her own set of ailments. “Well try standing behind the counter constantly after you stumped your toe this morning.”

She said it frankly, as if you had no idea what pain was or could not possibly understand. You rolled your eyes back in front of you and walked through the open door while Cindy followed in behind you.

“And I got sick this morning,”

“Stop drinking.” your voice rose up a bit louder over the roar of the fans.

“I wasn't! I just woke up crappy is all. Ugh, this thing with Rex. Did you know he still sends me money? After all this time! He makes me so frustrated, plus I hit my toe on the brass leg of my chair. I nearly snapped it off! It’s torture standing back there.”

“Oh, must be really crappy to get money you never asked for once a month.”

You sat the dolly down and grabbed the first case on top. “Geeze, I would totally hate getting money...just handed to me..” your voice drew out in a sarcastic tone.

Cindy rolled her eyes back at you. “He still wants me to come to Sunday dinners at Olive’s.”

“Well he always did love his mammy,” you couldn’t help but to giggle at her expression.

“She doesn’t love me, she lets me still work here and all that but...fuck she doesn’t make it easy.”

You didn’t have time to respond before Adie appeared with her face stuck in through a crack at the door.

“Twenty guys just walked in -” she said, her voice quiet but begging too.

Cindy waved her off and walked out. Even over the fans you could hear the high spirited laughter and deep voices, the open and shutting of the front cooler doors, the clink of six packs clanking out the windows. And immediately you were happy that there was only thirty minutes left before closing time.

Products got stacked in their predestined places with little thought. Your mind was far away from this place. There was always the tendency to drift into a daydream at the moment the monotony of everyday life became stagnant. Somewhere on the high seas, the hero of your own story where money and time meant little, where you made the rules, and felt satisfied.

You continued to dream as you walked out of the cooler, dolly in hand, eyes straight forward as they moved to places on the shelves that needed a bottle or two replaced. You paid little mind to the men there, who spoke softly with the beat of music across the street humming through the liquor store walls.

Weaving around them with the dolly, you hardly notice their eyes casually glancing at your body as you pass them by. It was like any other Saturday, the men included with their minuscule unprovoked attention. Their movements within the store are meaningless, your mind was set on the last fifteen minutes until closing. That bottle of clear rum called to you like the couch, like the bag of chips in your pantry and the show you had been putting off to catch up on all week. You were ready to just be off.

The dolly and you pause near the front door where the bags of ice laid within the stand up freezer. You opened the door, palmed the frozen cubes through the plastic and decided with the cooler weather you wouldn’t have to bag anymore tonight.

Cindy said your name over the top of the men passing comments back and forth to each other.

“I’m nearly done. I’m locking the back door.” you shouted over your shoulder and began to take off again, dolly in tow toward the second part of the store. Wine bottles stuffed together on rickety shelves clinked with the vibration of the music.

“Okay but that’s not what I was talking about- Come here.”

You kept going with the dolly. “I’ll be right back!”

So you rolled it back there, just inside the first trailer and walked back. Finally you take the time to look at the faces of the four or five men on the other side of the counter. One of them was Sy. And you stopped short of coming into the main part of the store.

“Hey! They are having a party up on the hill!” said Cindy excitedly.

Her giddiness elicits a smile from you. But it was short lived as Sy turned from the counter as you took a few steps near. His large body leaned on his right arm on top of the counter, he stretched out a leg and his other hand held his wrist. A lazy stance but one with purpose that said he was open to friendly banter.

“A gathering of sorts. The boys have returned.” Sy added.

“Boys? From college?” you assumed, it was fall after all, maybe the semester was over and these boys were younger cousins.

Adie at the other register next to Cindy laughed. Another one of the men was leaned completely over on his crossed arms looking at Adie. But she was looking at you. “No it’s the -”

“It’sa time for family to return home.” said Sy. “Usually the men take off ‘til they’re late thirties, they come back, help out with the land, home life and settle down.”

“Are ya’ll..is this a religious thing?” you asked.

Most of them laughed, even the men down by the beer, but not you or Cindy. Sy only smiled.

“Nah, it’s more like a reunion.”

Cindy crossed her arms over her chest, a few fingers played with the ends of her hair. “Hey you still got that bottle at home? Maybe you and I can catch up on that show and drink at your place!” asked Cindy.

Still thinking about their laughter, maybe it was an inside joke you weren’t privy too. But Cindy’s sudden shift from barely contained excitement to attempting to trash the idea all together grated your nerves. “I thought you were trying to go to this?”

“We can do something else. I got my toe to think about.”

At the mention of Cindy’s stupid toe your eyes went back to Sy.

“After we shut down, we’ll start over there...where is it?”

The car radio mumbled a tune under Cindy’s constant talking.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know Sy was your neighbor.”

“I’m not nosey.” you threw in, keeping your eyes on the gravel road only illuminated by the headlights of your car.

You do your best to concentrate on the road. But in the pitch black your mind makes shadows in the spaces between bare mesquite trees, vines creeping over the fences that line either side of the gravel back road. Your eyes sweep back and forth for sleek bodies of deer that would dare dart out. It doesn’t matter that you are driving the forty mile an hour speed, you were careful every time you drove this way to go home.

And as you passed the dirt driveway to your home an ache sets in. The kind that wants to be in your own environment with your own things. You even glance back through the driver side window, checking for the front porch light and wondering if the house missed you too.

“I don’t want to see Rex. But I know he’ll be there.” Cindy’s whining cut into your thoughts.

“Then stay away from him.”

“I can try but he won’t listen.” she added, once again usurping another opinion.

Before you know it Cindy was waving her hand to the left. “It’s right there, the turn in - with those big wooden gates.”

It was open as you turned on to the driveway, though not much better than the actual road. Passing through them, they curved over the wide path, carved into them looked like animals, dogs maybe you weren’t sure.

“Are they rich?”

Cindy unbuckled her seat belt and popped down the viser, flipped open the mirror and squinted when the light hit her eyes. “Ya.” she said, running a finger underneath her eyelid. “They all are.”

You drove further, even here the sides of the driveway were just as wild as the road you had turned off of. Though the gravel seemed sparse and gave way to the reddish orange dirt known for this area. Soon you were much closer in a short amount of time, you could see the house - if one could call it that. What you could see from your house was deceiving. That white house, looking now, was merely a metal garage. The mansion was large, spacious, across the land with timber embedded length wise to wooden planks running long. A cabin? A huge cabin fit for at least twenty or more people. And the cars that lined in front and down the driveway could certainly accommodate just that.

“Oh ya they are rich, god damn.” you whispered and pulled off near the garage.

You drove to the nearest light, half way between the garage and this big house. But as you came closer it wasn’t electrical, it was a torch made of a stack of stones topped with flames. Your eyes moved past Cindy who was still adjusting her hair and makeup to the house, all the lights outside were made of fire.

“An upclass kegger?” you laughed and put the car in park.

“No they aren’t stuck up like that. Really, they seemed to be good people.” Cindy started to say something else but shrugged.

She looked at you, “Ready?”

You sighed and resided yourself to just get it over with. Walking toward the house, you did feel a bit better, now that the drive was over you could look forward to an exit.

Cindy walked ahead of you, grateful to let her take the lead you let her. And she walked straight for the large front doors with more dogs carved into the dark wood. Suddenly you were aware of the air around you, it was different from the natural smell down by your house. It smelled of the flora you walked through, even the timber that made up the house. Which only seemed to blend into the trees around it, even the front door was flanked by two small trees, stripped down to bare wood and made to be part of the architecture.

She didn’t even have to open it, before you realized what was happening a woman popped out. Tall, with long brown hair was throwing her arms around Cindy’s neck. She pulled her into the house with you trailing behind.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” shouted the woman. “Rex!!” she yelled again as you shut the door behind you.

The woman turned back over her shoulder toward you, “You brought a friend! Please make yourself at home!” The woman let go of Cindy and opened another set of doors set into thick wood. Past the glass on either side of them movement could be seen. She pushed them in and stepped into a stone and wood foyer. You continued to follow but quickly your eyes were pulled into this grand living room the likes you had never seen. It stopped you.

Your eyes were drawn to the large wooden columns of logs that gave way to an open layout that seemed to stretch to the sky peaking through a large window on the ceiling. Further in, the second story could be seen resting on more logs but that wasn't the focal point. Among the wood, and branches stood a rock at least twelve feet tall, carved in such a way it almost looked like the outside of a den or cave. Men sat around it upon cushions of leather or fur in deep conversation and acted like they didn’t even see you. So your eyes moved from then to the lip of this rocky monument where sat a clay bowl, burning with a fire within it.

“What the fuck is this place…” you whispered.

“The drinks are over there,” called the woman. She was far away, at the entryway of another room just off from this rock. She gestured into the room she and Cindy walked into. But you were still gazing, amazed even because beyond this rock were a row of double glass doors, swung open with soft music being played outside.

Cindy called your name, finally you walked over to join her in what looked to be another sitting room but it was so much more than that, you just couldn’t name it. Wood followed into this room too, and stone. There were people in here as well, some crowded around a large bowl full of something blue.

Cindy dipped a glass ladle into, poured it into a glass and then handed it to you. She did the same for herself, but before you could really ask her anything a bellowing hoot came from behind you.

A man with dark hair came walking fast toward you, but glancing at Cindy, her face pale mouth open in a gasp took a step back. The man she did not want to see, Rex.

More people turned, some laughed and others nodded in his direction as he closed in on Cindy.

“Hey I’m going out there, if you need me. That’s where I’ll be okay.” you said softly.

Cindy only nodded and then at once Rex grabbed her in a hug. That was your mark to leave, and you did so happily.

You followed the sound of deep crooning vocals from beyond the row of doors. More people, perhaps the last addition to the silent count in your head made for thirty people in total you had seen were sat around. Again, square cushions lined the rails of the balcony, dotted out from there encircled a man with the black satin sky as a backdrop behind him.

It felt communal in nature, some shit you might have seen on television about cults and how they huddle together, think the same, do the same. But as you observed their faces, they listened to the music, though spoke to whoever was near them. It seemed benign. Though this was the middle of nowhere, Texas, what use would have a home like this? Who lived here?

You gazed at the man for a moment as you moved to the other end of the balcony. It seemed bigger than your own home with its little two bedrooms, and small living room. And it certainly did not have a view like this. In the dark, it wasn’t truly vast blackness, stars peppered the sky like fireflies, the nearly full moon cast a pale pearly light upon the land.

“See anything you like?” said a voice from behind you.

Sy was there, drink in hand and a friendly toothless smile. He cleaned up, he didn’t smell like the smoke from the pits at the park any longer, the cap he had on was gone and dark hair bundled in loose curls around his ears and neck.

“It’s beautiful here.”

Sy’s eyes moved from you to the scene over your shoulder. He nodded knowingly, his jaw tightened and sagged, like he was biting down on a thought and then blinked back at you.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

You were unamused and it showed across your face. Sy’s expression grew serious, simply staring at you before taking a drink.

Sy stepped closer to your left and stood near, he smacked his lips. “You’ll get used to it.” he said and turned his head toward you.

“Used to what? Was that a flirt?” you asked, finally beating back embarrassment you turned your body and leaned against the balcony.

“I’m not great at flirting.” Sy dipped in close, looking into your eyes, and spoke softly, “I call them like I see them.”

He stood straight again, “So how long have you been in our small town?”

The song changed, a few people called out requests before the man started singing again. You watched the people, buying time before you decided upon an answer.

“I’ve been here for about 5 months now.”

“Did it take you long to find a place?” he quickly asked back. “Not like there’s a lot to pick from.”

“Actually, I’m buying the land right down the road from here. The price was right.”

“The Grove house. I know it.”

“Yeah?”

“It used to be a part of this land, the caretaker’s house, but a few generations back we let them buy it from the family. Everything okay with the house?”

“It’s a great home. I didn’t have to do much to it. But there’s a dead tree stump at the far corner of the house.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow.”

You shook your head like you were trying to throw off his good offer. This was all so strange, the house, this land, the feeling in your gut and now this.

You finished the drink off, spilled some of it down your chin as you quickly tried to deflate his offer.

“No, no--that’s not necessary.”

“Hey we’re neighbors now. I’m home, I want to help you.”

You wanted to say no one more time but your voice loses its intensity with the sound of a woman yelling. Cursing, Cindy strode past the doors, her eyes roaming the dark and then stopping on people and looking some more before she finally landed on you.

Quickly she walked over to you, held your arms and ignored Sy complete. “Please, can you take me home.” her voice cracked.

“What’s going on?”

“Can you?”

You looked over to Sy, he was eyeing Cindy before he turned his eyes back toward the house. Shouting, low and growing louder you shifted back to Cindy. She was still looking at you, concern settled into her stance as she grew rigid, and stared right into your eyes.

You sighed, “Okay. Fine, let's go home. I’ll take you first.”

Sunday was bright, warmer than usual, but then again it was Texas, the weather seemed to have its own mind. And today it was sunny, with the heat from the sun beating out the cool wind. It made for a pleasant late morning, you weren’t even hung over. The ride back to Cindy’s was quiet, she hardly spoke - not like her. While her silence was worrisome you assumed it was some sort of lovers concern.

The tree in the back had to be dealt with. You figured a few hours of digging around it would yield results. And while it did you were nowhere near getting the four foot wide trunk out of the ground. Squatting down near a deep exposed root, you swung your hatchet, splitting the wood and chipping away at the foundation.

You were sweaty, and tired of using energy best spent making food and sitting in front of the television. Laying the hatchet down you grab a rope and knot it on the end of the cut root. You tugged hard, nothing.

A rumble of a truck pulling up into your driveway didn’t sway your efforts. Planting your feet you hunched over and pulled back harder. It gave a little that time. When you tried to pull again, a pair of gloved hands wrapped around the rope in front of your grip.

It was Sy.

He smiled while plucking at the rope, “Let’s give it a tug.”

His thick arms rubbed against yours, he fixed his stance closer but wider and his thighs brushed against your as the rope wrenched back. He grunts hard, “One more time,”and with another jerk the root comes completely loose from the trunk.

Sy released it and you turned toward him. He was grinning down at the stump, white cotton shirt straining around his large arms with his fingers in the jean loops. “Looks like you’ve done a good job of getting it to surface. I bet I can pop it out for good.”

He backed up his black trunk and made easy work of wrapping a chain around what was sticking out of the ground. You stood near the front of the house and observed him gassing the engine. Within a few minutes the stump cracked as it fell forward in the direction he pulled broken roots and all.

“Thank you!” you said cheerfully. Jumping from the porch you saw Sy lean over into the bed of his truck and retrieve a gas saw. You watched him cut the stump down into slices. You wanted to help afterwards, you even tried to lift one but they had to be at least a hundred pound each.

“I got it.” and without another word, and to your amazement, Sy squatted down and grabbed a piece. He walked a few feet with it, his arms wrapped around the part of the circumference and placed it in the bed.

“If you’re up for a cookless night we are having a family dinner up at the house. Do you want to go get ready?” Sy walked back to you near the wood and grabbed for another piece.

“Right now?”

He lifted it, “Ya. Go wash off or whatever it is beautiful women do. I’ll wait.”

It was evening, the sun was setting when you stepped out of Sy’s truck. Gone was the warm weather in its place mist or fog seemed to grow from the spaces between the trees trunks and branches. Somehow the natural world mimics how you feel inside. There are shadows within you too, hidden by the mists of memories, light displaced by ghostly uncaring hands from the past. You look over to Sy, back straight, head lifted he walks like a leader. And when he turns to you, his eyes blazing some of the haze within you disperses.

Even with his silent acknowledgment that this was the beginning of something new. The lines of cars aren’t ignored.

“Family dinner,huh?” you asked in jest, though left it open for him to explain further.

Sy nodded, a whisper of a smile tugged at the end of his mouth and you suspected the expression was mischievous but you don’t know why he needed to be.

Up the stone steps again, the outside ornate door was wide open though the one behind it was not. He walked forward, pushed it and let you walk in first. It smelled wonderful, food of some sort, meat and the fragrance of leather and wood met you.

The grandness of the living room was even more so in the evening light. The feeling of being within a tree, or a cave did not go unnoticed. Sy grabbed your hand, surprised by this subtle gesture you allowed him to hold you, guide you toward a room that was closed the night before. The distant hum of voices grew louder once he opened the door. You wanted to stop and take in the space, the living room was but a glimpse-- this room was for kings.

The entire space was timber walls, stone flooring with three low-height long tables running horizontal in this great rectangle of carpentry. The furthest wall was lined with large windows which offered the view of the tree country valley and everything of god’s creation. Bowls of food, trays of hot delights steamed up into the air looking like smoke in the dying light. The people surrounding the tables, had to be at least a dozen each. And Sy continued to walk along the side he came to the head of the first table, and nodded to those who waved at him. Their voices hushed with his approach to the middle table, he brought you to the second empty seat where you sat on the leather cushion. He took his place at the head, eyes wide at the selection, the prestige of this room you looked to him confused.

“The pack is back together!” called Sy. And at once the room bellowed with hoots and howls.

“In a few short hours we will celebrate the beginnings of a new generation!”

Another round of hollering and calling waved across the crowd. “Eat!” announced Sy. And with that the yelling died down and the clutter of silverware filled the hall.

You stared at the fried chicken mounded up in a tray, and then to the more than rare steak to the left. A heap of corn on the cob with a tiny bowl of butter was quickly taken and passed across the table.

You turned to Sy, he had already filled his plate with what looked like brisket, a few ribs and yellow potato salad.

“What are you celebrating?” you asked, and without looking up he spoke while chewing.

“The return,” he shrugged and grabbed a rib and began to eat again.

Not wanting to stick out, quickly you filled your plate with whatever was close and took small bites while glancing down the table and around the room.

Cindy wasn’t too far away. Surprised because of yesterday's turn of events, you waved, and she returned it with an ecstatic smile. She leaned in next to Rex who gnawed on a chicken leg. Your eyes moved from her with a bite of a roll, to the carving on the wall behind Sy.

The scene depicted there seemed to flow from one transition to the other. First a man, walking through trees, and then he knelt before a great dog. “Who made that?” you asked and took a sip of ice cold sweet iced tea.

Sy looked over his shoulder, he grabbed a rag and whipped his mouth and beard. “It’s a family heirloom.” said Olive who sat across the table next to Rex.

“It’s over two hundred years old. It was one of the first things created here.” added Sy.

Your eyes turned back to the raised carving. “This house is that old?”

“Older really.” chimed in Olive.

“This homestead is a testament to family, loyalty, and resilience.”said another, a woman. The same tall brunette from the previous night.

“So..this is a reunion hall or something?”

Sy shook his head. “This is my home. And also the place our pa-family meets. It sits on three hundred acres of protected land. Throughout there are other homes, not as big --for families who return. Generational homes..passed down.”

“Like my house?” you asked.

“No, that was a gift to the caretaker. His loyalty was never seen of his kind before. It’s a shame he passed away and his family let that land go.” said Olive.

“It’s in good hands now.” added Sy, who picked up the pitcher of tea and refilled your glass.

Your attention laid upon the faces of strangers eating. “These people are your family?”

Sy sat the pitcher down, “Might as well be.”

Confusion spread across your face, “I’m sorry but,” you put your fork down and looked at Sy. “Okay, these people aren’t your family? But this is a family home?” You looked behind you searching for older faces besides Olive and found none. “What about your parents? Do you have siblings?”

Some of the noise lowered with your secession of questions. Maybe you hit a nerve, but there were other women who looked to you as well. “Ya, I came with Jack,” the tiny young woman nudged the man’s ribs to her left. “So many secrets,” she giggled.

Sy cleared his throat before he spoke. “My parents were killed when I was about twelve. I was raised by Olive. This home belonged to my mother and the land to those who resided here.”

“But why?”

“It was originally a colony.”

“Oh,” you supposed that made sense for the times. But in today’s world...you weren’t sure, strange.

Dinner ended with the men and their dates leaving the hall. Though you did see a few women and men stay behind to clean. You walked next to Sy, out of the rows of double doors to the balcony. At the right stairs looking like they were unfinished from a whole piece of a tree. You followed him down them, winding along the edge of the balcony the stone column holding it up to the bottom.

The only patch of treeless land was not far from the home. Out there night had descended into the orange moon slowly rising into the sky. Your eye was drawn to an equally fiery color of flames licking the cool night air.

“What a pretty full moon!” a woman’s voice said softly from the crowd.

“Not quite,” said Sy.

You were standing next to him, watching him gaze at the fire. It cracked and spit sparks near you before he began to speak once again.

“This is a special night.” he lifted his head and spoke loudly toward the people and you. “A homecoming.”

Sy’s fingers pulled at the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head and then junked it into the fire. You stepped back and looked at the faces of the men. They did the same, each one, to the shock of the partner standing next to them.

From the dark a woman approached, gray hair, wrinkled heavily around her eyes and mouth. She carried a stone bowl the same color as the long thick dress she wore.

Oh shit.

“This is a cult.” you whispered and took another step back. Sy pulled you back by your wrist.

He mumbled at first, you thought he was speaking again but you didn’t understand the words. They seemed to rhyme and flow in the same pattern, like a chant.

Your attention was back on the woman, she drank long from the bowl, she stepped to the edge of the fire, something within you felt danger that if she stood any closer her dress would catch fire.

Her saggy cheeks were full, she leaned back and spit the liquid into the fire. The burst hit the flames, a scream from within the crowd crawled up from the howls from the men. The area was blanketed in smoke and sparks. The thick charred hot mist forced its way into your nose and down your throat. You tried to run but Sy now held you from the back. Craving fresh air you sucked in and gulped down any that was available.

“What is this!” You yelled through a scream that tasted of blood.

“The beginning.” he whispered into your ear.

Your legs buckled and Sy allowed you to hit the hard dead grass.

The smoke parted, maybe your eyes deceived you but the woman there, the smoke trailed into their mouths and nose.

“You lovely ladies might be wondering what all this means.” his voice was low, thick with a delightful litany. His eyes were wide as he stared at each one. “Well, for us it’s about family, always has been. And for you, tonight, it’s the start of the rest of your life.”

Sy began to pace half way around the fire and then back to you. He shoved a thumb into his chest, “I’m the Alpha prime in these parts, and this here is my pack. They’ve brought you here tonight, they have chosen you.”

From your place on the ground, through the yellow tops of flames, Sy turned his eyes to you. “I have chosen you.”

At the sting of his words you fell back and twisted with pain. Something hard and beating thumped through your chest and traveled down your muscles to your belly. As soon as the wave crested you scrambled away from the deafening screams of women behind you. Trampling through the grass it hit you again. You stood against it, huddled and hunched over your own scream called out into the night.

Sy was there, you smelled him before he even touched you. The pain rescinded with his touch but you resisted him pulling you toward him, you kicked at his legs even though in his hands made you felt whole somehow.

“Stop!” you screamed but he held tighter, his hands traveled up your arms and held your face. He forced you to tilt your head and met his eyes. A honey colored ripple flashed over the dark blown out pupil invisible waves of spread out from your eyes down your body. It was inexplicable, with his gaze you calmed to his touch, you gave in.

Sy pulled you back to him, even though the sweater you wore the heat from his skin penetrated the fabric and so to your senses as well. He was in front of you but within you too, somehow you could feel him in your blood.

“First rut!” shouted Sy up to the sky. Howls issued back, the sound whirling and ringing in your ears.

“Alphas!” Sy dragged you by the wrist for you to follow, blurry eyes stared up at the house.

“Claim your mate!”

You entered the house in a flurry of groggy blinks and disconnected images. Flashes of wolves carved deep in stone, the sweat of dripping down Sy’s neck, his arms around you ushering you here and there. The smell of him got stronger down a dark hall, you tried to faint then, so overcome with the tearing in your groin you wanted to die. You wanted to give up and surrender to what could only be a slow death. But Sy, ever ready, pushed you, his presences gave you strength to continue over the threshold of a room.

If not for your own breathing the cries throughout the house might have scared you. Death seemed plausible though; how hard could a heart beat this way without dying? Never mind the terrible screams, the violent fits of rage that seemed to float through the wood and enter your mind. You were dying, right?

You clutched the wooden end-board as Sy stripped you naked. He maintains the closeness during, holding his chest near your back, a hand over your belly as he pulls the shirt over your head. He pressed his lips to your neck the sensation wracked your spine seizing it in an arch to meet his naked length.

“I smell you…” he whispered and jerked you around. “I want to rip you a part.” he growled then quickly kissed you.

You let him take. You let him feel and run his hands all the way down your back. Whatever this was, it reacted to his touch, left you breathless and sucking in air too.

“But I won’t,” his hands were back at your face, his teeth nipped your lips as he spoke between bites. “I promise, I’ll control myself baby.”

He turned you back around, with a hand forced you to bend over and without another word he pushed into you. Wet wasn’t the word for it, the moment he hit bottom you felt the warmth roll down your thigh. Sy gripped your hips, pulled out and then snapped your ass back to him.

The invasion bruises you, it forces you to stretch around him. When you start to cry Sy stalls. He slipped from you, held you close from behind and directed you to the side of the bed. “Shush, hush, baby..” he whispered.

He fell to the bed with you, on top of you already positioned between your legs before the tears could start up again. “Put your arms around my neck okay,”

You felt heavy all over but you did as he said. Sy smiled and kissed you as he pulled your hands up over his arms and sank back into you. “There’s my girl..” he said on a pant. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, licking, tasting you his tongue swirled over the bit of skin just below your ear.

“We felt just right,” he groaned.

It felt like hours, the constant prodding, the grinding into you, his skin slapped against yours undoing you from within. You had never come down so hard on the sensation in your life. Holding on to him tight he pounded into you, his teeth scraped your skin until he bit down. Something more, larger entered into you at the base of his cock, you shouted out as he tightened his jaws. His legs and hips pushed you further up the bed with the shaking of his body. Sy lifted up his head, finally you could see his face, the ripple of yellow rolled over his eyes, his face contorted into some ungodly beast.

Horror filled you, with the roar he let loose. You were fading though, the fear became thin with the steady beating of your heart. Your arms fell from him, his face returned to what you remembered. You laid there with him still inside. Sy’s face turned down to you, lovingly he kissed your lips, your chin, your cheek. A satisfied growl carried from his chest, long and vibrating it soothed you to shut your eyes. It sounded like a dog...

No, a wolf.

The men in your life before were easy to pin down who they were. Too loud, and their words gave them away. Too greedy, and their needs, their time was above your own. They took too much and gave very little. Their faces and their warmth are nothing to compare to the man now laying at your side.

You were a single child of single children. No extended family, passed friendly close acquaintances. Which many were brought into the fold because of childhood parties, work friends, but none could offer the connection of family. Sy offered this. A wild beginning for certain. But lying in a bed softer than clouds, his scent covering your body like the finest of tissue paper brushing across your skin but never truly feeling its weight.

Naked as the day you were born, your lids crack open, the light coming in was muddled with mist diffusing into the room as a constant drizzly morning. Sy’s arm was around your waist and when you turned your head his eyes were already open too, watching you, studying the sleepiness across your face.

“I'm so tired...what did you do to me?”

His arms squeezed around you, holding you securely but you didn’t think of it as a vice, “Our kind is meant to be sleeping now. It’s our first rut...it can be exhausting.”

Your mind searched for the meaning. Rut, it was something you had heard from hunters. When creatures mated..it was a time for animal reproduction. “Rut?”

Sy folded his other arm under his head, his blue eyes with one freckled stare at you steady.

“Babe, you were changed for the better. The boys, a few females are wolves around here.”

You sat up fast, that was a mistake for your body felt heavy. “Wolves?”

“Our people have been around for as long as there have been men.” said Sy staring up at you. “It’s a gift most would say, a curse for others.” And he rolled over on his back and threaded his fingers over his stomach.

“Which is it?”

“It’s an honor.”

“How is this even real? I don’t understand…”

“The world isn’t black and white, this isn’t the movies.”

“So..I’m changing..into what?”

“You are the Omega prime here, I don’t recon you’ll change like me but you are this. Once you see and allow your nature to come through you will understand my love.”

You pull the covers up closer hoping that somehow it would protect you from the truth. “I’m changing into a wolf??”

Sy chuckled lightly and pinched the bridge of his nose as he spoke. “No, you’re a vessel.”

“I don’t want that.”

Suddenly Sy sat up and moved his large bulky body toward you while pulling the sheet from you and sitting directly across you.

He looked you into the eyes, “It’s too late for that.”

The aches in your body, the creaking in your joints were reactivated under his gazing. Without thinking you stretched out a hand and grazed it over his shoulder and down his arm. There was no use fighting it, that feeling was beginning to churn and flex under your skin again.

You fell back to the pillow, you can’t stand even your own skin. It itched, it pulled around your muscles in a way you had never felt before. His scent enveloped you, permeating, it sinks into your pores. You could smell him more now, as if the volume of this sense turned up to zero you could even scent his cock and craved what was within it. You wanted to hunt, you wanted to run, to provide...what the fuck?

Sy unfolded your legs and laid his hips between them. “Baby, you’re sweating again. You need me. If you go for too long..you need it.”

Shaking your head while wrapping your hands around his neck your voice trembled out, “I don’t.”

His big hands buried between your body and the bed and gripped your ass. “You do...” And pushed inside of you. Every inch that sank your mouth stretched open.

“My little omega is wet for me,”

The words didn’t make sense but they rang true for your body. It was dirty and confusing but it made you want to be good for him. You shut your mouth, moaned as you did so and nodded.

Sy began to thump, a smile maybe pulled at the corner of his mouth but his eyes remained serious. “That’s it…”

“I knew you would be a perfect fit..” he groaned too, hitting bottom. “Take my knot so well, love.”

“It--it hurt.” you mumbled.

Sy kissed you lightly, his expression turned to concern, “I know love, it’s supposed to at first.” he grunted and began to slap against you harder. “Just a tight omega..”

The longer he thrusted the more the base of his cock began to thicken. He bounced against you testing the width with each jab until he was forcing it in and out of you. “See..” he hissed and laid his head against your shoulder. Sy’s tongue licked around the marks on your next sending shudders to your core. Gasping, heart thumping his rubbing from within on your clit burst the sweet ache from within.

“That’s my girl..” he whispered. Sy rose up, grabbed your wrists, pinned you down and fucked you harder.

His knot entered you completely as he stilled on top of you. In the light of a dreary day his face flashed once again of the hound he hides within. His grip tightened and this time you did not give in to the sleepiness. Sy collapsed, still holding your wrists but dragged them higher as to settle in. His hips continued with small well intended prods.

He lifted his head and stared down at you. “Do you feel it?”

His cock laid within you thick and heavy. He moved a bit and couldn't pull out. “That’s me inside of you. I did this last night, but you passed out. I fucked you all night. Do you remember it?”

Now it made sense, the aches and pains. “I had you about six times.” he said while still slowly moving his hips. He rolled his eyes back barely containing the ecstasy in his voice. “I’m filling you.”

Your purpose unfolded within your bones, spread to your muscles as warmth from the sun would. A sweet burn, one that felt ancient and destined. The life you had before shed from you as you nodded toward him. You are his, it felt right and true.

When his hands left your wrist you understood that he had brought you into his life. As he held your face and poured into you, there was no other person he loved more.

“Just a little more,” he said and began to peck your cheeks again. He appeared relaxed and with it so did you. He rubbed your hair, cuddled into you no longer moving his hips. “We’re going to make so many beautiful children together.”

Maybe with him and this strange new way, that your life before could mean more now because it brought you to this moment. Gently you caressed his face down to his beard and carefully kissed him back. Sy grinned as he pushed back on your lips.

“I’m going to take care of you,” said Sy.

Out of the shower you walk out with Sy naked once again. Water dripped down your breasts and to the floor you couldn’t shake the fact that this house felt like outside. Or maybe it was nature itself that had been invited in. You felt it here more than in any other place. The sense of being at peace, at being at home. Sy’s footfalls are never far from you. Like air, like sunlight too.

“This is --” you said sitting on the bed. “I feel odd. Like I feel you or this house..I’m not sure how to explain it.”

Sy handed you a towel and began to dry his body off. “Bonding.” he said while rubbing his dick and then his thighs.

You stood up once again, and started to dry off. “You’re my mate. This home was built by my family, it means something.”

His words swallowed your thoughts as you stared at him for a moment. Sy walked to the closet in the far corner, he pulled out a few pieces of clothing and started to dress. “I’ve got stuff in here for you too babe.” and motioned for you to follow.

“How?”

“We still have the keys to that little house you’re buying. I had them move some of your clothes here while we were eating dinner last night.”

He leaned over and pecked your head. You walked to the closet and pulled on the long sleeve shirt, and held the sweat in your hands. You grabbed some faux sheepskin fleece boots too.

“Over there,” he pointed near the bed to a large ornate dresser. “Your socks and things.”

You finished dressing as Sy walked from the bathroom, his curls were tamed for the time as he fanned his fingers through them. “Just try and let it happen, okay? The more you fight it, the longer it takes.”

“You brought me here! You drugged me and now you just want me to accept this?”

Sy shrugged, “It’s always been this way.” He stepped up to you and the connection hummed at his fingertips that lightly grazed the skin around your mark. “I know you feel wronged. I’m sorry I took you. But this is your home now, it would only upset the baby if you kept fighting against this.”

Your head snapped back, “Baby?” You touched your stomach, a reflex really.

“There will be soon.” he smiled and brought you back to his face, “We need to--” but he stopped suddenly and sniffed the air. “Wait here.”

Purely out of the concern in his voice you did as he said. But there was more, it was in your bones and you followed out the door anyway. Loud voices carried across the space. At once within the hallway the smell of rot hit your nose. Maggoty things sprang to mind, decay and plunder of flesh flashed across your mind. Sy continued around the second story, and you followed passed busts of brass faces and more pelts lining the inside wall. Despite the sunny rays pouring over dark wood from above and falling down onto the stone monument below, the air felt rancid.

Passed an adjacent hallway, and another few closed doors you saw the source of the fretful talking. Rex turned his head from the railway overlooking the first floor up to Sy. He paced away from it back to the door behind him, he looked in, his eyes wide he did not stop staring within. Sy stopped next to him, you saw him turn his head and peer in too. You followed suit, with your eyes adjusting to the light blazing in from three giant windows. Within the bed laid a woman upon her back, arms half moved like a crooked doll her eyes were open staring blankly up at the ceiling.

She was the source, your stomach turned and you stepped forward. Sy held you by the arm. But she did not look decomposed, but the smell wafted up to you anyways. “Cindy!”

You moved again but was still held back, “Wait love.” asked Sy quietly.

“She didn't--” Rex was crying as he spoke. “..the transformation..she.”

There was an end, clearly somewhere within this concoction of mystical smoke people could die. Women met their end.

Olive approached from the other side of Rex, she crossed her arms and stared within the room disappointed. “You know what needs to be done Rex.” her aged voice cracked in the middle, executing the order while dealing compassion was never her strongest trait.

“She just died!” you yelled.

Olive stayed level as she spoke to Sy. “You don’t want the old God after us, Alpha Prime. You are that now, tonight will make it official. You must do it.”

“She has a family! They will look for her!” you turned around and shouted at Olive.

Olive seemed to cave into your voice as she turned her head shakily toward you. “I know her mother, sisters. If they come asking questions I’ll handle it.” She released a breath, steadied herself against Rex and looked back to Sy.

“When’s the last time you knelt to an Omega Prime?” he asked Olive. She frowned, and it looked like she was biting the inside of her lip and averted her eyes back to the room. “Half the day is gone.” said Sy. “Tonight is the run..we need to do this just after dark.”

“So that’s it!” your voice came out as little more than a whisper. “You kill her? Now you’re going to hid-”

Sy whipped you around stared right into your eyes, the color in them shifted. They emitted authority down upon you to the point you were left speechless. His jaw relaxed and with it an almost soothing growl followed, but you broke through you attempted to turn your eyes. But he grabbed you by the arms, made you gaze back at him. He began to growl low, not threatening, you felt the anger within you plummet.

“Now that you’re calm, listen. She has received the gift but her soul did not take to it. If we do not dispose of the body properly...”

Sy let you go and turned his eyes back to the room. “Let’s just say they haven’t had a dark soul in this area in a generation.”

Already the house smelled better, though cold with every window now wide open, the older women went about shutting them again. A small thin woman with silver hair eyed you as she walked passed you toward the kitchen.

“There’s still breakfast left.” she said softly. “Just for you, miss.”

You muddled over her comment for a minute. You were starving but the idea of eating after finding Cindy dead was pulling at your ethics. She turned at the door to the kitchen and waved you in. You relented to the hunger.

Within the kitchen it was busy, with women and men going about preparing food. A giant stone island had six people surrounding it chopping up onions, tomatoes and other things you didn’t get a good look at. The woman returned to you with a plate of toast, a giant pile of scrambled eggs, bacon and glass of orange juice and motioned for you to sit at the last seat near a young girl who was crushing saltine crackers into a giant bowl.

You ate quickly, said nothing as their conversation picked back up with the arrival of this woman. She had to be about ninety, she commanded the kitchen, ordered people with soft words but stern looks if they back talked her instructions.

“Well no one else is gunna say it.” said a woman from the other side of the counter. She had curly brown hair, jagged eyebrows that gave her the permanent expression of agitation. “So how does it feel to be the Queen of the Den?”

When you bit off from your toast, those talking halted and looked at you, some continued their jobs in silence.

You chewed a couple of times, “I don’t know what that means,” you said with a full mouth.

The woman looked up to the older woman rolling out dough. She scoffed, “Sloan knows how to pick’em.” and rolled her eyes.

With that the old woman banged the roller on the counter and pointed it back at the woman. “Peach! It’s true!”

“I won’t hear it!” said Peach, her soft voice broke into a growl. “Dottie shut that damn big hole in your face!”

“It’s not for you to know how to strengthen the pack.” Peach relaxed back, held the roller between thick knuckles and looked back toward you.

“Sorry about that Prime. I wouldn’t recon young and dumb went hand in hand unless it came to Dottie. She meant no harm.”

You nodded slightly, sat up a bit straighter and continued to eat. Sloan? After all this, you had never known his first name. They returned to work, though Dottie went right back to chatting with the woman next to her. The little girl hummed next to you as she moved to the next sleeve of crackers. And halfway swallowing the orange juice the back door swung open with a man carrying an animal over his shoulder. Sy entered right behind him, the man slammed the carcass on a large prepping table at the back of the large kitchen.

Sy’s gaze never left you as he walked across the kitchen, he slipped in between you and the girl and kissed the top of your head.

“Hey Sloan.” you said under your breath, he pulled back nodded then smiled slightly as he grabbed a few crackers from the table.

“Are you done?” he asked, you plucked the toast from the plate and followed him out the back door.

You walked and walked with Sy. After a few minutes of silence he grabbed your hand and led you away from the house deeper into the land.

“What’s going to happen to Cindy,” you asked quietly.

“At dark there will be a ceremony, she will be buried then.”

He said it matter of fact though it did not set that way with you. But nothing really felt right since you got here. It was just another shocking development after another really. “What kind of ceremony?”

Sy helped you step over a fell tree, “For the turning. She has to be burned before it’s over.”

You tried not to take his callousness to heart. Though it did seem insane to speak of the dead in such a way. It didn’t strike you as hard though. Something within you felt calm about it, like a lasting trust for the man near.

And you didn’t know if it was the walking but you felt sick. At first in your stomach but quickly it grew to aches and cramps in your belly.

“I heard Olive say that,” you said through a twist beginning to gnaw at your back.

“The pack expects it. I’m the Alpha Prime, it is up to me to see that we are safe. And I will do it. I’ll do it till my last breath.”

Sy let go of your hand and wrapped his arm around your back. “This land is for you too,” his hand drifted down your back and settled into the back pocket of your jeans. “I want you to feel at home here.”

When you didn’t respond Sy stopped and forced you to look at him. His fingers stroked your cheek and then with the back of his hand, testing and feeling your claiming skin. “You need me?” he asked.

Shaking your head you pulled from him and walked whatever direction you thought he was going. But you didn’t get far before you doubled over.

Sy was there, near you making you stand up and lean on him. “Come on, there’s a cabin near. It should be vacant for a few hours.”

“We can’t just use someone’s home-” you winced.

He made you walk with him again, “It's not. Call it a lookout, there are other things out here a lot more dangerous than the occasional coyote.��

You huddled into him, sweating and whining as he walked you down the path where a small house came into view. He helped you up the stairs feeling the wetness building between your thighs. And as soon as you got in it he was on you. “We barely made it in here love.” he said between kisses. His hands quickly grabbed and tugged at your pants as he walked you toward a patchy couch.

His nose dragged from your neck, your breasts with his fingers pulling at the top of your jeans. You didn’t fight him when he pushed you down. You didn’t say a word when he used your jeans and underwear as a way of holding your legs up and close to your chest. Exposing your glistening pussy, Sy pulled himself out and entered you immediately. Bare upper thighs, Sy’s hands held you there allowing the pants to continue to restrain your legs.

“Do I really want this? Or is it something else?” you moaned as he pumped fast.

Your eyes rolled back, “Feels so good.” you whispered as he thumped harder.

“It's real,...you belong to me.” Sy leaned in crushing you more with his weight and size. He sucked hard and fanned breath down to you as he huffed, “Always have…the smoke wouldn’t have taken if it weren’t true.”

“You,” he pushed in with every word, “..belong to me.”

“They live in the fog,” Sy said and pointed toward the dark patches between trees.

You were right to be afraid, not of them though, for you had seen these on your first ride up here. In the car with a chatty Cindy you had told yourself it was only an illusion. Perhaps the fear was of yourself, the ignorance, the lack of connection to worlds thought to be of lore that were closer than you thought.

“Who are they?” you asked while walking closer to Sy. The open woods felt smaller now, what other beings existed out in the wild?

“Sprites, small gods.” he said, looking forward again. “B’careful and never ask anything of them. They crave warmth at the best of times, they like to hang around bodies. But if you speak to them it’sa chance for them to get inside of you.”

You said nothing after that, wide eyes continued to search the trees recognizing more hazy emotionless faces than before with each step. Light from the torches grew brighter, illuminating the dark and with it the beings faded with the touch of heat.

You entered the area lined with thick wooden torches topped with fire. The other alphas followed behind with their mates and little was said among them. The crack of the fires to the cold of the night was the only sound that really interrupted the moment.

Sy and you stood just within the entry of this circle of flames, one after the other one alpha with his mate took their spots around the center. Built of wood like a stage and on top - a body shrouded in white, it reminded you of something you had only seen in the movies, a funeral pyre. Rex stepped close to the structure, his head pointed toward it, the flicker of shadows and light play down his back and over his head. The shiny beads, things that looked like round coins hung and clinked together in the gust of frigid wind.

You didn’t look away until you felt Sy step away. He was behind you, unhooking the handle of the torch from the pole. And he stared toward it, walked past you and flung the torch into the brush skirting the pile.

The moment it caught fire something twisted within your gut and chest. At first it felt like guilt, a pang across the muscles in your chest but it persisted. It burst to life in your senses from your lungs and spread out to the tips of your fingers and toes. You heard screaming, light quips of moans from the other women. When you looked around they too were grabbing their chests at the same time you hunched over. Standing there in sparse dead grass, you tried to steady yourself, bracing the air but nothing came to your aid. It buckled your knees. Whatever this was swept through you in waves of pain and knowing. You weren’t sure of anything, but it felt okay, that all of this wouldn’t last.

The wood cried as flames engulfed the bottom tier completely. And with it, the very atmosphere around you snapped and spit energy you’ve never felt before. Low growling from all around but the loudest, the longest comes from your side. You look up from the ground to Sy. Teeth bared through his thick beard his brows were pulled tight, the angles of his features once again exaggerated into something not human. You stared horrified when he began to claw at his chest, his fingers were not his own, they were long, gnarly and tipped with long nails. The yell from his mouth was an ear splitting soul shaking screech that shook your spirit.

With the crack of bones, his skin sloughs off long black fur, the floppy bits hit the ground and immediately sank in and became fertile ground that sprouted green grass. His legs grew long and bulky and snapped back like that of a dog. He grew taller, bigger with a wolf's snout and face.

Suddenly a shriek from the fire rang above the growling and howling around you. Upon the pyre the fire had reached Cindy, but she wasn’t laying there any more. Her body stood, claws ripped through the sheet as it too caught fire. You stared up at it hopelessly, panting hard your heart thumping at an inhuman speed, part of you gave up in the wake of this. You sat there unable to fight the buckling and rebirth of your senses.

Cindy’s body lept from the toppling pyre toward you. No time to react or run something large stepped between you and it. A man screamed from your right, he was in the middle of changing to. Rex stepped toward it with his face shifting in and out of human and wolf and tried to grab the thing by its arm.

The sheet had burned and melted into what was once Cindy’s face. Its jaw opened long, stretching pieces of fabric and skin across its dark mouth and shrieked. The thing swiped at Rex, slicing through his skin to the white of his flesh across his neck, chest and belly. Blood splashed into the air and to the ground. He crumpled to the ground, dead before he even touched it. And when Cindy’s body turned back toward you something suddenly impaled her chest straight back into the fire, pinning her there until the families consumed her completely.

It was quiet after besides your breathing and the warping of blood in your ears. Sy, now fully transformed, stepped to Rex, picked him up and as gently as he could, placed his body too in the fire next to Cindy.

His feet were large paws that you centered your attention on. Displacing the dirt with every step you refused to pull your eyes up further. And when he knelt down to you, his great big clawed furry hands sat on either side of your body. He nudged the side of your face with his wet nose until you did look up. His eyes were the same, with the ripple of honey across blue that you had seen before. He tilted his head down, rubbed his nose into the palm of your hand until finally you ran your hand over the bridge of his nose, and up into the thick fur between two giant ears.

He pushed his nose into your neck gently before he stood up. Whatever had come over you was quickly dispersing. Though now, after, you smelled more, like a scent had color or flavor that you had never noticed before. The same with your vision, prying your eyes off the newly formed Sy, and glancing at the trees and saw the fog people for who they were. No longer just faces, full bodied apparitions with different clothes and emotions of their own. And your hearing, besides the tiniest movement of creatures, you could sense the footsteps in the ground and in your ears from the direction of the house. However peering through the dark you could see their silhouettes were still quite close to the house.

Sy grunted and you turned back to him. His snout was tilted up toward the sky, sniffing and licking the air. He howled long and loud and the others followed. He turned to you once again, baring his teeth and took off, leaping over the pyre toward the other side of the circle. A sudden rush of the others following their leader joined him and disappeared into the forest.

The hall was packed. Along with the row of three tables that you had seen before, there was another, running diagonal at the top. You sat next to Sy who sat at this table, on the middle cushion, surrounded with the faces you had come to recognize. The new members appeared as you felt, lost perhaps in the fray of the night's ceremony, exhausted too, and probably worried about their new lives. They too most likely felt the pull as well. The fading of what their old lives were being replaced by the energy of family around them.

But even as they and you came to grips with what this new life included cheering erupted throughout the hall. Laughing, and gesturing toward one another as they ate and swapped tales of their adventure in the forest. Yes, this felt like family. Something you weren’t so used to having.

Peach came walking to you and Sy holding a large platter made of wood. She came to your side and slid it into the empty space on the table. On it were slices of meat overlapping in a circle that looked nearly raw with it’s moist flesh, and dark red sauce.

Sy picked one up, he placed it near your mouth. A subtle smile played at the corner of his lips as he urged you to open. You felt the enormity of this moment if you took this bite. This was it, you would be accepting your place here and everything that meant. You stared into his eyes and then took a small bite. The flavor was metallic in your mouth, tangy and fleshy as you chewed. Sy ate the other part. He passed the plate to the next man who did the same with his mate.

He leaned close to you, his nose sniffed your neck back and forth tilting his head slowly. “I think you got a secret.” he whispered, still sniffing you, his nose brushing upon the skin of your jaw.

“I don’t think it’s a secret that this is all weird,” you laughed softly, and picked at your food.

His nose touched your skin again and breathed in deep, “Oh yeah,” his lips caressed the rim of your ear. “You’re pregnant.”

You jerked your head toward him, mouth slightly parted, the words escaping as they formed in your mind. “I will protect you..” he said.

“I will love you ‘til the end of my days.” His fingers glided long the other side of your jaw to your chin. “D’you accept me?” he asked quietly.

The hall had gone quiet. You ignored the weight of their stares. Slowly you stroked his beard and nodded slightly. “I accept you.” you whispered back. And cheering roared. Part 2

#Black reader #black female reader #x black!reader #dark!syverson #dark!geralt #dark!syverson x black reader #dark!geralt x black reader

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beauregardlionett · 1 month

Text

Queens of Queens - ch. 5

AO3 Link

Perhaps Fjord was impulsive, or maybe he was just painfully curious. Either way, he had a rare Monday off from work, which always led to strange decisions.

He lived a decent way from The Moon and Mirror, so travelling to that part of town could hardly be explained away as unintentional. Fjord’s feet carried him down the main drag of Jackson Heights, moving at a steady pace to breeze past the bar and continue on his way, steps only somewhat aimless.

From what Fjord remembered, Caduceus had said that his shop was nearby, and it seemed he meant within walking distance. So Fjord kept a keen eye out, scanning shop fronts and street signs, peering down various side streets and walking with a little more care than he had before. But the shop did not present itself easily.

He must have looked as lost as he felt, because a stout, older woman eventually stopped him with narrowed eyes and asked if he needed help. When Fjord told her he was looking for an apothecary of sorts, her face softened. Pointing him back a block and down a side street, Fjord heard all about the ‘kindest store owner he would ever meet’.

Sure enough, after they parted ways and Fjord thanked her for her help, he found the shop.

A wooden plaque hung outside a light wood door, painted with intricate designs of leaves, vines, flowers and gems. It dubbed the store The Blooming Grove. There was a window beside the door that appeared to encompass the entire front wall of the store. However, gossamer curtains of light, iridescent fabric obscured the interior at the moment. When Fjord tried the door handle, it was unlocked.

As he walked in, chimes above the inside doorway rung merrily, announcing his presence.

Caduceus looked up from where he stood behind the long counter against one wall. Behind him were carefully organized jars of varying sizes, filled with numerous herbs and dried flowers. A pale green teapot sat on the closest end of the counter toward Fjord, steam curling from the spout. The small sign beside it read free tea and listed the daily blend. The register was at the furthest end, a stick of incense burning beside it and filling the room with a smoky musk.

“Oh,” Caduceus said as he brightened, drawing Fjord’s attention again. “Mr. Fjord, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You remember me,” Fjord said, surprised, as he closed the door and took a few hesitant steps further into the shop.

“Of course,” Caduceus drawled, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “I tend to remember Molly’s friends rather easily.”

“Oh, I’m not—” Fjord cut himself off. “I don’t know Molly that well.”

“Regardless,” Caduceus said with an aimless wave of his hand. “What can I do for you? Would you like some tea, or are you here to browse the shop?”

There was no shortage of things to peruse. A haphazard and unusual collection of shelving lined the edges of the tiny store. It wasn’t very wide, more long than anything, and the counter seemed to take up most of the floor space. But despite the size, Caduceus had somehow packed the store full of items to ogle over. Gemstones sparkled in the dim light, scattered in variety about the shelves in bowls and tiny trays. Different brands of tarot cards and tinctures shared another shelf, while wooden carvings of old deity symbols decorated one wall. A rack of what appeared to be handmade jewelry hung above a vanity spread of essential oils and homemade soaps.

Against the back wall of the store, built beside the door that read ‘employees only’, was a display case of flowers. Vivacious, colorful, and teeming with life, ready to be plucked from their baskets and arranged. There were even a few pots lined up on the bottom two shelves, plants to be purchased to take home and join a garden.

“To be quite honest with you,” Fjord said slowly, as he took it all in. “I’m not sure. I think I was just…curious.”

Caduceus spread his hands wide, grin still in place.

“Feel free to look around, then,” he drawled. “There’s something here for everyone, even if you don’t know it yet.”

Fjord raised an eyebrow at that, but decided it couldn’t hurt to peruse. He bypassed the tinctures and soaps entirely, more interested by the assorted gemstones scattered about the shop. Each tiny collection had a sign of stiff paper propped up among the gems, labeling which stone was which and sporting a quick description of ‘magical properties’. Fjord didn’t care to read each one, instead scanning over the gems themselves and picking up the ones that caught his eye.

In one bowl, a large cluster of purple stones drew his attention. Fjord plucked one from the top, holding the stone up and turning it, watching the way it sparkled faintly.

“Oh, that’s a good one for you,” Caduceus’ voice said at Fjord’s shoulder, startling him.

“What do you mean?” Fjord managed around his heart in his throat.

“That’s amethyst,” Caduceus explained, smiling like he hadn’t just made Fjord curse loudly. “It’s a good stone for all kinds of healing and mental focus. Keeping that around usually helps lift people's moods, too.”

“A stone can do that?” Fjord asked, not bothering to mask the skepticism in his tone.

“It can if you have enough faith in it,” Caduceus said as he walked back to the register.

Before Fjord could ponder over Caduceus and his cryptic words for too long, the chimes above the door rang.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Fjord recognized the woman Beau had identified as Yasha from the bar. She was now sporting a black eye, bruised cheekbone, and a nasty-looking split lip. The bruises were still a dark purple toward the center, but the edges were already tinged with fading yellow—not new, but still nowhere near finished healing. There was a part of Fjord that doubted she had gotten those from bouncing at the bar.

“Oh dear,” Caduceus said with simple intonation. “Those look rather nasty, don’t they?”

Yasha gave a minute wince and shut the door carefully behind her. Mismatched eyes tracked to Fjord, the lift of her eyebrows giving away that she recognized him. He nodded her way, turning back to the gems on the shelf in a thin veneer of privacy.

“I’m assuming you’re here for more balm?” Caduceus’ easy timbre carried throughout the store.

“If you don’t mind,” Yasha said, her voice low and timid. “Molly used the last of it a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, right,” Caduceus replied, his voice muffled like he was digging through something behind the counter. “I remember that. Do they need more lavender, by the way? I gave them some a few weeks ago, but I can never tell how fast they are going to go through it.”

“It probably wouldn’t hurt,” Yasha sighed. “You know how they are.”

Fjord couldn’t resist peeking over his shoulder at the pair, their conversation meaning little to him. Yasha was leaning against the counter, elbows supporting her weight, as she watched Caduceus rummage through a box behind the register. He eventually straightened up, placing a tiny container between himself and Yasha before turning to grab one of the herbal jars from the shelf.

“This is Mr. Fjord, by the way,” Caduceus said without looking, already measuring out some dried purple flowers on a scale. Yasha’s gaze flicked over her shoulder to Fjord, giving him a once over the way she had all those nights ago.

“Nice to have a name for the face,” Yasha murmured, prompting Caduceus to grin over his shoulder at them.

“Oh, so you’ve met! I should have guessed, since Mr. Fjord’s been by the bar before. Molly seemed to take a liking to him, but I couldn’t be certain the two of you had been acquainted.”

“Something like that,” Fjord muttered as he approached the pair, gems forgotten. He stuck out a hand to Yasha, smiling amicably in his usual charming fashion. “Good to properly meet you, Yasha.”

“Likewise,” Yasha said after a long moment of scrutiny, taking Fjord’s hand in her firm grasp. The movement let Fjord catch sight of the bandages wrapped with snug precision around her knuckles. If he had to take a guess, Fjord would put money down on Yasha’s knuckles reflecting the state of her face.

Caduceus saved them from having to fumble any further attempts at conversation. He placed a small cloth bag filled with lavender on the counter beside the other container. He produced a tincture from below as well—the bottle labeled as lavender, too.

“Anything else?” Caduceus asked, putting the lavender jar back up on the shelf. When she shook her head, he smiled.

“What do I owe you?”

“Friends and family discount,” Caduceus said, and the look Yasha gave him told Fjord they had had this conversation before. There must have been something in Yasha’s expression that Fjord missed, because Caduceus caved with a fond sigh a few seconds later. “Fine, half price.”

Yasha dug out the required amount from her jacket pocket and handed it over.

“Oh, by the way,” Caduceus said as he put the money into the register. “I added in some poppy with the lemon balm. Didn’t do too much for the smell, but let me know if it helps with anything.”

“Sure,” Yasha agreed, gathering up her items and turning to go. “Good to meet you again, Fjord.”

“Same to you,” Fjord called as she breezed out of the store to the cheerful chimes.

“So, would you like that amethyst you’ve been holding on to?” Caduceus’ voice pulled Fjord back.

“Oh,” Fjord looked down at the stone in his hand, having completely forgotten he still had it. He didn’t buy into this magic healing stuff Caduceus had mentioned, but it was rather nice to have something to fiddle with, to keep his hands busy.

“Sure, yeah.”

Caduceus pulled a small cloth bag from beneath the counter and set about packing the stone away. He gestured to the shelf behind him with a grin once he had tied off the bag.

“Would you like to try any of these while you’re here?”

He went to refuse, thinking himself uninterested. But he paused, the weight of a sleepless night tugging back his inhibitions and presenting the more curious, if not desperate, side of Fjord.

“Do you have anything that helps with restless sleep?”

Caduceus said nothing, merely moved to grab a couple of jars from the shelf, his long arms stretching with ease to the uppermost height. Unlike his actions with Yasha’s purchase, Caduceus set the jars before Fjord on the counter with a smile. He pointed to one filled with dried flower buds that bore a musky yellow color.

“This is chamomile,” Caduceus explained. “Great herb for stress and nerves, and it has a lovely, light flavor to it when brewed.”

He pointed to another jar, this one Fjord recognized because Caduceus had just used it for Yasha. The flowers were much smaller than the chamomile, most a pale purple and scarcely the length of a fingernail.

“Lavender, also a rather mild flavor, so long as you don’t use too much. Perfect for promoting peace and restful sleep. I recommend a tea blend of it with the chamomile. Steep it for about three to five minutes and you should find sleep a much easier thing to tackle.”

“What about that jar?” Fjord asked, nodding toward the third that Caduceus had pulled down. Inside it were what appeared to be miniscule, deep crimson colored bits of flower. Fjord had absolutely no idea what they could be, and since most of the jars lacked labels, he couldn’t even guess.

“Ah, these are rose hips,” Caduceus said. “They won’t help with sleep, but they’ve got a good flavor and they turn your tea pink. I don’t have to add them if you don’t want them.”

Fjord blinked at Caduceus, wondering when he would ever get used to Caduceus’ casual, strange train of thought. Casting that aside for another time, Fjord shook his head and gestured to the other jars with a wave of his hand.

“Just the lavender and chamomile for now, please.”

After Fjord had paid for and gathered up his tea and gemstone, Caduceus set about putting the herbal jars back upon the shelf. He glanced over his shoulder to Fjord and smiled genially.

“I’m glad you stopped by, Mr. Fjord. I hope the tea helps.”

“Thank you,” Fjord nodded, eyes flicking down to his bag. “I’ll let you know once I try it.”

“I suppose that means I’ll be seeing you around,” Caduceus hummed as he dusted his hands off on his sweater. “Have a good one until then.”

“You too,” Fjord waved, ducking from the shop to the merry cadence of the shop’s chimes.

As he walked down the sidewalk, absently heading for his bus stop, Fjord contemplated the purchase in his hand. He was unsure what brought him to The Blooming Grove today aside from natural curiosity, but he wasn’t unhappy with the way events unfolded. It was strange to see Yasha again, and he wouldn’t deny his curiosity about her current state—but it was all a mere coincidence.

Fjord had little reason to return to The Moon and Mirror or to Caduceus’ shop. The chances of seeing these people again were slim, he was certain of it.

When Yasha walked into the bar, two of the tables near the front window were occupied. About average for a Monday after lunch, so she continued further in without giving them much thought.

Her bruises smarted every time she moved, and every blink made her face feel like it was throbbing in time with her heartbeat. But Yasha had definitely suffered worse. Besides, now that she had more of that near magical herbal balm from Caduceus’ shop, Yasha knew her aches and pains would be gone in a matter of days.

Molly stood behind the bar as Yasha approached, offering her a distracted wave as they listened with rapt attention to Veth. She paced the length of the bench as she spoke, hands darting with inhuman speed to scoop up bottles and syrups and glasses. Whatever she was mixing, Veth seemed confident enough to chat throughout the entire process.

“So that’s when the police started chasing us. We were kids, so they probably would have gone easy on us, but we were faster and they never saw our faces. But anyway, after that—oh my gods, what happened to your face?”

Veth interrupted her own story as she turned to Molly and spotted Yasha over their shoulder. Yasha winced minutely at the shrill worry in Veth’s tone, the drink she had been mixing forgotten. Molly twisted around to face Yasha, a violet eyebrow cocking her way, as they offered no help.

“Just a scuffle,” Yasha murmured, producing the two lavender products from her bag. She held them out to Molly without fanfare, and they took them as such.

“Here?” Veth pressed, leaning her little hands onto the countertop, eyes wide and concerned.

“Ah…um, no.” Yasha had never been a good liar, finding it far easier to stick to the truth. But this truth was not something easily shared. “Somewhere else, but it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Veth asked, incredulous. “Your face is covered in bruises! You look like you’ve been mauled!”

Molly was grinning now, their amusement with Yasha’s fidgeting overriding any concern they might have possessed. She was definitely going to be hiding all of their favorite blankets later tonight in retaliation.

“I’m okay, Veth,” Yasha tried again, hoping she might slip away upstairs and avoid this all together.

“Absolutely not,” Veth insisted, motioning for Yasha to come behind the bar. “Get over here, right now.”

Molly wasn’t even trying to hide their smile anymore, clearly delighted to have found an ally in their never-ending attempts at looking after Yasha. They instead gestured for Yasha to hurry, far too cheerful.

“You heard the woman, Yash,” Molly said, eyes bright. “Get on over there.”

With shuffling steps, and a frown that was definitely not a pout, Yasha moved behind the bar and sat beside Veth on her bench. She passed over the jar of balm from her bag and turned so that she faced Veth, legs straddling the bench.

“I have a five-year-old,” Veth said as she opened the jar and scooped two fingers through the aromatic balm. “So if it makes you feel any better, you never stood a chance.”

Molly crowed with laughter at Yasha’s definite pout and stretched around Veth to pat Yasha’s head.

“What is your kid’s name?” Yasha asked as Veth carefully rubbed the balm over the long bruise on Yasha’s cheek. The tension unwound from Yasha’s shoulders as Caduceus’ product seemed to sap the pain from her skin near instantaneously.

“Luc,” Veth said after a moment, her voice quiet. “He’s a brilliant boy, just like his father.”

“I know you worry,” Molly piped up, leaning on their elbows as they watched Veth treat Yasha. “But you’re more than welcome to bring him here if your husband has to work. I’m sure we can keep him entertained.”

“Most of the time it isn’t an issue,” Veth said, moving to Yasha’s other cheek, brow furrowed in concentration. “He has school, and after-care is available, and on weekends Yeza doesn’t work. But the summer might be a problem. My husband does a lot of his research when the university doesn’t have regular classes, and if I’m here…”

Veth sighed as she leaned back to observe where else she might apply balm to Yasha’s bruises.

“We can watch him,” Yasha murmured, smiling when Veth blinked at her. “I love kids.”

“Summer is a long way off,” Veth said, screwing the lid back onto the balm and handing it to Yasha. “I’d like to introduce Luc to everyone before I make that decision.”

“Of course,” Molly said graciously, their tail waving behind them in lazy spirals. “We’d love to meet the little lad.”

Yasha nodded her agreement when Veth looked between the two of them, eyes hesitant and a tad critical. She had no parental experience herself, so Yasha couldn’t pretend to understand all the emotions warring inside Veth. But she smiled as much as she could with her bruises and hoped it was enough.

“I’ll find a day sometime soon to bring him by,” Veth said at length. “He’s been curious to see where I work, anyway.”

“Wonderful!” Molly clapped their hands together, beaming. “Just let us know and we would be more than happy to host!”

Yasha nodded and tucked the jar of balm back into her bag, offering Veth a quiet, “thanks.”

Veth nodded back to her as Molly stole Veth’s attention once more.

“Now, Mrs. Veth,” Molly said as they leaned their weight back onto the bar, eyes gleaming. “Why don’t you finish that story and drink of yours? I’m very curious to see how both turn out.”

Fjord had never been one for worldly possessions. Growing up in an orphanage didn’t lend to owning much, and his adoptive father worked on a deep sea fishing vessel for most of Fjord’s childhood. No portion of Fjord’s life saw frivolous shopping and ownership. He was fine with it, because it made moving and cleaning that much easier.

His roommate, Caleb, seemed to live similarly. The only thing he owned in excess, it seemed, were books. Even then, several of them were on loan from the library. Their apartment was a revolving door of borrowed novels tucked into Caleb’s bag, under his arm, or stacked atop one another precariously. Fjord never minded the books, because Caleb kept them out of the way and returned them promptly.

Overall, their collective spread created a Spartan apartment. They each owned a bed with an unremarkable duvet, a closet each full of meager options, and a desk of their own. The only variable between their rooms was Caleb’s stocked bookshelf. The living room had a sofa and coffee table—no television or extra seating, as they rarely ever saw guests. No houseplants to speak of, or knickknacks on the windowsills. The only reason they owned curtains was because they came with the apartment, since the previous occupant left them behind.

It was Wednesday—grocery day for them—so the cupboards were bare and the fridge empty, save for some yogurt that they likely should have chucked a month ago.

Sprawled across the sofa, Fjord had his textbook propped on his stomach and his knees. He was reading, but he only processed about half of the words. His stomach grumbled beneath the biting edge of his text, making it hard to focus. He could go to the store by himself, but Caleb was extremely particular about certain things he bought. It just saved them time and money to go together and get it over with.

Now, if only Caleb would emerge from his room, they could actually get going.

As if summoned by the thought, Caleb’s door creaked open, spilling out his sleepy, stumbling figure. Fjord shut his textbook and sat up, placing it on the coffee table. Caleb yawned behind one hand as he wound a faded blue scarf ‘round his neck, his tattered coat already in place. Fjord grabbed his jacket off the arm of the couch and stood to meet his roommate as they left.

Not that they never spoke, but this part of their routine no longer needed dialogue. Fjord never worked Wednesdays and neither of them had class until the afternoon, so this routine was long engrained into their relationship.

The store was within walking distance of their apartment, so they took a stroll down the sidewalk, shoulder to shoulder. Caleb yawned again and burrowed his nose into the folds of his scarf. Late November’s wind had a biting chill to it, merciless and ripping. Today was not windy, but the cold lingered anyway.

As they stood at a crosswalk, waiting for a break in traffic, a voice called out to them.

“Fjord! Hey, Fjord!” Twisting at the sound of his name, Fjord glanced over his shoulder. Hanging off the door handle of a café they had passed, he spotted a familiar blue Tiefling. She waved her arm over her head with an enthusiasm that made Fjord worried about the integrity of her shoulder. Her grin was wide and beaming, something familiar.

“Oh,” Fjord remembered after a moment. “Uh, Jester, right? Hello again.”

“That’s me!” Jester chirped as Fjord walked back down the sidewalk toward her. He could see Caleb trailing hesitantly along behind him in his periphery, so Fjord gestured to him as they stood in front of Jester.

“This is my roommate, Caleb,” Fjord said before looking at Caleb. “This is Jester. I met her a few nights ago on my way home from work.”

Jester stuck her hand out, still grinning even in the face of Caleb’s blank stare and heavy silence. He flicked a look at her outstretched hand and made no move to take his hands from his coat pockets. Fjord suppressed the urge to bodily cringe.

“Hello,” Caleb said, accent thick despite the low volume of his voice.

“Pleased to meet you,” Jester drawled sweetly as she shook her hand up and down in the air in front of Caleb. “You guys should come in for some pastries! My friend just made a huge batch of cupcakes and muffins.”

“Oh,” Fjord said, glancing at Caleb for a cue and unsurprised to find his face still blank. “We were just heading to the store. Maybe—”

“That’s perfect, then!” Jester squealed, reaching out to snag at Fjord’s elbow, jumping in place. “My Mama always said you’re never supposed to shop on an empty stomach. So you have to come in and try some of Reani’s cupcakes before you go! It’ll be super quick—so fast it will almost be like you never stopped. I can make you cocoa, too! Or any drink you want!”

Fjord paused, finally taking in the frilly pink apron Jester had tied over her clothes. The name of the café was embroidered in pale yellow, denoting the shop as Halo’s Haven.

“I thought you were an artist?” Fjord said, the statement sounding more like a question with his confusion.

Jester glanced down at her apron and laughed, a bubbling giggle. “I am, silly. I work here too. Not all the time, of course. Mostly when Reani is short staffed. But come on, come have a snack before you leave. We can all talk and get to know each other!” Jester glanced at Caleb and grinned even harder at him. She looked like she was trying to smile enough for the both of them.

“It’ll be fun!”

With Caleb remaining silent, Fjord decided it couldn’t hurt to stop for a snack. Plus, Caleb left Fjord to carry this interaction, so he figured payback through mildly forced conversation worked out.

“Sure, why not?” Fjord said, smiling at Jester. “Caleb’s got a sweet tooth, after all.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Caleb, greeted with flustered confusion and a furrowed brow.

“What?” Caleb muttered right before Jester squealed and snagged Caleb by the hand. She towed him through the front door of the pastry shop with surprising strength, Fjord strolling in behind them. The interior of the shop was bright and homey, and the scent of warm sugar permeated the air. The walls and floors of the shop were a pristine white, accented sweetly with pale pink and charming yellow. Splashes of green brightened everything, thrown in where potted plants hung from the ceiling, lined the windows, and decorated each table.

“Reani!” Jester crowed as she pulled Caleb toward the display case. “I brought friends!”

Thankfully, the shop was mostly empty, so Jester’s voice carried easily without disturbing anyone. Fjord came up beside her and Caleb just as another figure came bursting from the back.

A tumble of silver-white hair spilled over one shoulder as a short woman with bright eyes and an even brighter smile rocketed to the counter. Fjord could see how she and Jester got along.

“Oh, hello!” Reani chirped. “It’s so nice to meet you! Welcome to Halo’s Haven, I’m Reani!”

“This is Fjord,” Jester spoke up before he could. “He’s the one I told you about, from the other night. And this is Cay-leb.”

Fjord smirked at the exaggerated pronunciation of his roommate’s name as he reached over the counter to shake Reani’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” he said casually. “Jester told us y’all make some pretty good treats in here.”

“We make the best, actually,” Reani boasted with a sharp smile, eyes sparkling. “Especially cupcakes.”

“What do you want to eat, Cay-leb?” Jester asked, clinging to his arm and staring up at Caleb with eager eyes. Fjord suppressed a snicker at the flustered, nervous look on his face, turning his attention to the display case so he wouldn’t outright laugh at Caleb’s fumbling.

“Whichever one you recommend is fine,” Caleb said eventually, much to Jester’s delight. While Jester flung herself around the counter to pull out a cupcake for Caleb, Fjord asked Reani for a coffee to go. Caleb slid closer to Fjord’s shoulder, arms folded tight to his chest. His ears were faintly pink as he buried his nose into his scarf again, staring down at the floor. Fjord felt a little bad for dragging Caleb into this when he knew his roommate was a recluse.

“Hey,” Fjord murmured while the girls worked. “Are you okay? I’m sorry if this is a lot.”

Caleb flicked a look up at him, blinking in surprise. He was silent for a long enough moment that Fjord wondered if he was ever going to answer.

“Ah,” Caleb finally said. “It is…fine. I am not used to such…boisterous company, is all.”

Fjord made a noise of agreement as Reani and Jester came back to the counter with their things. Ignoring Caleb’s quiet protest, Fjord paid for both of them while he chatted politely with the pair of bubbly girls.

“You guys should totally come by again sometime!” Jester said.

“We’ll do our best,” Fjord promised. “We both have school and work most days, but it’s pretty nice here.”

Reani beamed at the compliment, bouncing on her toes as Jester hugged Reani’s arm tightly.

“It was nice to meet you Reani, and good to see you again, Jester,” Fjord said, smiling at them. “But we’ve still got a store run to complete. We’ll see you around?”

“Totally!” Reani and Jester said at the same time. Both of them stood at the door and waved to Fjord and Caleb as they walked off down the sidewalk together.

Fjord peered at Caleb and found his ears were still pink as he stared down at the cupcake in his hands. Grinning, Fjord took a leisurely sip of his coffee before speaking up.

“They were both pretty nice,” Fjord commented. Caleb made a noise of acknowledgement to the comment as he worked on peeling away the lining of his cupcake.

“And cute,” Fjord said after another sip of coffee.

Caleb shoved half the cupcake in his mouth as his cheeks flushed pink, making Fjord choke on both his laughter and his coffee. Caleb’s lips quirked up in a smile as he wiped at the frosting on his nose and Fjord realized he hadn’t seen Caleb smile before. It looked good on him—happiness, that is.

Maybe they would stop by Halo’s Haven more often after all.

#writing #my writing #SURPRISE FUCKERS #HAVEN'T UPDATED THIS BAD BOY IN FOUR YEARS LMAO #cr #critical role #m9 #the mighty nein #fjord #caduceus clay #yasha #mollymauk tealeaf #veth brenatto #caleb widogast #jester lavorre #reani #beauregard lionett

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rainydaywhump · 3 months

Text

Vinca, Ch. 2 (aka: amnesiac whumpee wakes up on a train)

A shorter, lighter piece for the second chapter...but rest assured, it's a transitional drabble that will lead the way to angst and pain >:)

Ch. 1 - Ch. 3

CWs/themes: amnesiac female whumpee, instinctive fear, minor injuries

Vinca ran. She knew, logically, that that person was already whisked away by the train, but it didn’t matter.

Run away have to get away run faster run FASTER so

The air was brisk and smelled of the sea, but the sunlight shone so brightly and she ran so quickly that she barely felt it.

Off the station platform, around the small building that barely counted for a station, down the narrow streets and into a small town that might’ve been beautiful if she wasn’t so scared. She felt jabs of pain as her bare feet sped across gravel and stone, but she didn’t stop. She flew past storefronts and burst through crosswalks and dodged in and out of little alleyways, trying to knock the person’s mere presence off her tail.

It was just as she reached a row of greenhouses on the outskirts of the small town that Vinca slowed, exhaustion finally overriding adrenaline. Her feet and legs were torn up, some of her bandages were dirty, and she was thirsty as hell.

Doesn’t matter. Have to get away have to run have to hide and run before they

She shuddered. Forced herself to breathe. She didn’t know where she was – not that that was anything knew – and she needed to think.

Some of the greenhouses were completely covered; others had clear panes that let her see row upon row of potted flowers and seedlings for sale. A cozy-looking cottage sat at the end of the greenhouses. There were a few people milling about. Middle-aged ladies in flannel jackets and cargo pants, examining the plants with keen, fond eyes; a couple, their boots splattered in mud, walking toward a shed full of straw bales; two kids running around while two older siblings milled around by a display of exquisitely-painted pottery out in the open. Somewhere in the distance, two dogs barked at each other. A bird flew by with a bit of straw in its beak. A grove of peach trees stood stout and proud to her left.

The presence on her tail was gone. Vinca sighed in relief. She must have made quite the picture, she thought, walking to the nearest greenhouse with no shoes, bandages around her ankles and wrists, and pajamas. She didn’t care. She was just glad to feel safe.

The first greenhouse table she wandered over to was full of pink and purple flowers poking out from bushy masses of bright green leaves. As she looked, a man entered from the opposite entrance. She tensed, but he was too busy wrestling with a garden hose to look like a threat – he must have worked here.

He twisted the spraying hose into a kink and let out a sound of vindictive satisfaction, then saw the newcomer. “Hello! Ah, you’re looking at the vincas? They’re pretty easy to care for up here. All the humidity does them good, and it’s pretty warm for Maine right now," he rattled off. He sounded like a cross between an encyclopedia and a socially awkward extrovert. "You just have to give them plenty of sunlight.”

She balked -- it took her a second, following his gaze to the label sign in the center of the table, to realize that he was talking about the plant. The plant was called a vinca, she thought, feeling rather stupid. She backed up a pace, unsure of what to think.

Meanwhile, the man was looking her up and down with a growing frown on his face. His eyes lingered on her bandages.

“If you don’t mind me asking, miss…are you alright?”

She stared at him, suddenly suspicious. The lady on the train had asked the same thing and then came back with more people to try and – well, she didn’t know what the lady was going to try doing, and she didn’t like that.

The man’s face was openly confused and concerned. She – Vinca? – took in his potting soil-stained hands, his sun-weathered face, and the hose kinked in his hand. He worked here, she assumed. And he seemed kind. But that meant nothing.

“I think Vinca’s my name,” she blurted out without thinking.

The man didn’t try to hide the surprise on his face. His hands fiddled with the garden hose as the gears obviously turned in his head.

“I mean – I’m a little lost. And I – I don’t have much to go on,” Vinca admitted.

“O-okay,” the man said with an exhale. He smiled wanly. “Hey, that’s okay. It’s easy to get lost around here. Where’re you coming from?”

“The train station.” She glanced anxiously back over her shoulder, suddenly seized with terror that the person would be there.

“Why don’t I get you something to drink. D’you like lemonade? My boyfriend says I make killer lemonade,” the man said, gesturing to the house beyond the greenhouses. “You look like you could use some shade, anyway.”

“What’s your name?” she asked quickly.

As if she’d recognize the name of someone who was a threat. She was looking for his body language.

But the man answered her without hesitation. “Ryan Smith. Which is a lot less unique than Vinca, but it works,” he said, grinning.

He slapped his knees in a way that reminded Vinca of someone somewhere in the foggy blank of her brain. In doing so, however, he accidentally let go of the hose. Now freed, a jet of water spurted out, soaking his shirt and pants.

“Agh! I do that every time,” Ryan grumbled, and Vinca actually smiled.

#whump #whump writing #whumpee #whump rescue #amnesiac character #amnesiac whumpee #whump concept #whumpblr #whumblr #hurt comfort

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orb-the-watchman · 2 years

Text

someone made a fan interview for Cassidio, so I thought I’d make my own interview to elaborate on some things.

Q: Who are you?

“I am Cassidio- my surname has been lost to time. When I had a more…conventional corporeal body, I was a witch doctor, or a sorcerer of some sort, as I like to say. I used to love plant life, succulents and cacti to be specific.“

Q: Why come to Snaktooth?

“COME to Snaktooth? I’ve known nothing but this island.”

-> Q: What Was life like on Snaktooth when you were alive?

“Beautiful. That rotten Gorge used to be a flourishing metropolis; I happily called it my home. For such a large community, we were all connected. We valued the well-being of our neighbors more than we did ourselves, well, that’s how they thought about everyone but me.”

-> Q: Do you remember anyone from back then specifically?

“…yes. I’ve long since forgotten his name. He was a hunter, he would scope the falls and grove and bring me snax. He was…the only person who was nice to me.”

Q: thoughts on Bugsnax?

“It’s been an ungrumply amount of time since I’ve eaten one. I’ve been watching Wambus meddle with bugsnax, they have a lot of fascinating similarities to the plants on this island! I’ve been watching Wambus do everything as a matter of fact-“

-> Q: Oh yeah, thoughts on Wambus?

“Don’t even get me started. He’s so gentle yet can still be strong and blunt…his physique and voice…I love how dedicated he is, too! He loves his farm so much, if only he loved me as much. He even tends to what he thinks is an inanimate object so tenderly.”

-> Q: Thoughts on Triffany?

“Ugh. Hypocrite, hypocrite! She is the worst hypocrite! Poor Wambus, she only payed attention to him after she saw other benefits to returning to town! She thinks she’s soo perky and cutsie! She’s all-Ooooh look at meee!! I’m just a cute stout little lady with a cute little accent! I like snooping around in dead peoples stuff! If I was with Wambus I’d always be there for him! I’d never leave for my own selfish reasons!”

Q: …Is Filbo okay?

“I’m…actually not sure where Filbo is. By all accounts Filbo should be have taken my place in the cactus.”

-> Q: Is Filbo not in the cactus??

“No! What that would mean is that I accidentally sent him to the underworld, but that would also mean he couldn’t come back after I’ve returned to the cactus, which, he does.”

-> Q: …how many times have you possessed Filbo???

“That is a complex question.”

Q: What it’s like being a ghost?

“Not fun. Imagine being awake 24/7 and stuck in one spot for eternity. I hate this spiky hair and gross green I’ve dawned too, I miss my silky turquoise fur!”

-> Q: Is that not what you looked before you died?

“Here’s the thing about spirits, we cannot exist in this mortal plane without some sort of physical thing to be connected with. It’s either that, or you’re in the underworld. Anyway- the machination of your soul is more drawn from what you’re bonded to rather than your original body, hence my cacti attributes.”

-> Q: So if you stayed with possessing Filbo…

“If I were to stay with Filbo’s body for at least another thousand years, yes, I would eventually look like Filbo.”

Q: Any info on Lizbert?

“Who?”

Q: thank you for your time, strange apparition.

“Likewise. You may have Filbo back, for now.”

#bugsnax #bugsnax oc #lady cassidio #cactriffy #filbo fiddlepie

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hiding1ntheforest · 7 months

Text

Horse Sacrifice, Symbolism, & Mythology of the Anglo-Saxons

Germanic horse sacrifice has it’s roots in a similar cultural practice of the Indo-Europeans, which originated in the Eurasian Steppe and eventually expanded Westward. Matter of fact, the earliest discovered horse burial dates back to approximately the 4th century BC in what is modern day Ukraine. The Eurasian Steppe also happens to be where horses were first domesticated 6000 years ago. It is likely that the horse sacrifice present amongst the Indo-Europeans traces back even further to the Proto-Indo-European peoples. Horses first began to be used in Britain during the Bronze Age, in which they were used to carry carts. Throughout the Iron Age, horses were utilized to transport goods during battle, a custom that survived among the Anglo-Saxons. Within the past few decades, several excavations have unearthed fascinating horse burials indicating ritualistic horse worship, as well as suggesting the existence of a horse cult. This post delves into the many burials, mythology, and worship of horses amongst the Anglo-Saxons.

Connection to the Gods

The spiritual significance of horses was greatly recognized by our Germanic ancestors. They were of course crucial for their physical capabilities, but the Germanic peoples viewed them as links to the divine and possessors of sacred knowledge. Tacitus discusses this in his work Germania, claiming that the Germanic peoples divined the future from the neighing of horses. Furthermore, Tacitus beautifully explains the attentive treatment of these animals: “These [horses] are nourished by the State in the same sacred woods and groves, all milk-white and employed in no earthly labour.” This description certainly asserts the prized status of horses within Germanic society. In the Vedic religion, Hayagriva was a horse headed god mostly associated with wisdom, who is also Vishnu incarnate. Those with educational aspirations or hopes to obtain higher knowledge would have worshipped Hayagriva. The concept of horses being creatures of spiritual wisdom is very much an Indo-European belief. Additionally, there are a plethora of horses mentioned in the Sagas. The most notable is Sleipnir, Woden’s eight legged horse who travels to Hel in Baldrs draumar. Most of the gods have their own horses, and the valkyries ride down to battlefields to collect the slain while mounted on them. The horse Grani in the Volsunga Saga is said to be related to Woden’s majestic horse. The Anglo-Saxons may have believed that horses also had the ability to traverse transcendent realms and were the means of transportation to the afterlife.

Kings & Warriors

Horses have long been associated with the ruling class. The majority of Anglo-Saxons did not own horses as they were expensive to maintain and there were a myriad of other animals much more useful in their society. Horses were instead reserved for the wealthy elite and times of war. The significance of the horse amongst nobility is certainly rooted in Indo-European culture. Ashvameda, a horse sacrifice ritual of the Vedic religion, exemplifies this. The rite aimed to validate a ruler’s authority and status. Ashvamedha was a rather elaborate event which made use of many men, animals, and other resources. Some horses were even selectively bred for the use of Anglo-Saxon kings during battle, as suggested in The Anglo-Saxon chronicle. However, it is worth nothing that it has been debated for decades whether the Anglo-Saxons used horses exclusively as a mode of transportation to battle, or if they fought while mounted as well. Regardless, the importance of horses in warrior culture is unequivocal. Horses take on more of an adventurous role in the Anglo Saxon Rune Poem: “Riding seems easy to every warrior while he is indoors and very courageous to him who traverses the high-roads on the back of a stout horse.” The rune poem demonstrates the brave nature of horses, and perhaps has a more arcane double meaning referencing a more metaphysical journey. It was also not uncommon for horses to be gifted to each other (again, typically for use in combat) indicated by several prominent tales such as Beowulf. A 10th century collection of manuscripts known as the Exeter Book contains a poem called The Wanderer, in which a rather sorrowful narrator reflects on the past’s events and lessons. The entire poem is filled with imagery of warriors in the mead hall, fighting alongside and honoring their friends, as well as the gloom of a bloody battlefield. More importantly, however, is the second half of the poem: “Where is the horse gone? Where the rider? …Alas for the mailed warrior! Alas for the splendour of the prince!” The poem not only strengthens the bond between the warrior, the elite and the horse, but highlights the introspective all-knowing aspect as well. Although a blatantly Christian poem, many scholars are confident that this poem predates the Exeter Book. The meaning of this poem and it’s imagery is very much rooted in the pre-Christian Anglo-Saxon warrior mindset. Additionally, knowing that many pagan beliefs were syncretized with the new foreign faith, may suggest that this poem is more pagan than one may expect. The Anglo-Saxons had their own ancestral horse gods in the form of Hengist and Horsa, whose names translate to “stallion” and “horse.” The two brothers originated in Jutland, eventually leading the Angles, Saxons, and their fellow Jutes to settle in Britain. During the 5th century, the brothers arrived in Kent and later reigned over this region. Horsa was killed during a battle between the native Britons, leaving Hengist to rule over Kent. Hengist and Horsa are also descendants of Woden, as asserted by Bede and other royal genealogies- another reason horses are closely connected to the divine, prophetic abilities, and wisdom. Hengist and Horsa’s existence as great kings and warriors emphasizes the idea that horses are noble, honorable creatures; the totem animal of great leaders.

Horse Inhumations & Consumption

Numerous horse burials have been excavated across Northwestern Europe the past couple of decades. For the sake of conciseness, I’ll focus on three. The first horse burial worth noting is the Suffolk horse burial which dates back to 600-700 AD. The excavation unearthed the remains of a horse and an Anglo-Saxon warrior. The warrior was buried alongside a shield and sword, and scholars believe the horse was likely a sacrifice. The Wulfsen horse burial of Germany contained the remains of three horses dating back to 700-800 AD, and human remains were discovered in the surrounding areas. One of the oldest horse burials uncovered in England is that of the Pocklington chariot burial, which consisted of the remains of an elite Iron Age Briton, two horses, and a chariot. All of these burials acknowledge the large role horses played in the culture of warriors and nobility among the Northwestern Europeans. The muslim writer Ahmad ibn Fadlan even described a funerary ritual for a chieftain farther North in which two horses were made to run laps, then cut up and placed into a ship to be buried. Consumption of horse meat amongst the Germanic peoples also occurred, though it was not as common among the Anglo-Saxons. This practice was completely expunged from England upon the arrival of Christianity. Post conversion, the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle records periods in which horse consumption resumed upon times of famine.

Other Information

Horses played a large role in fertility rituals, especially those dedicated to the God Freyr, though I have not seen this specifically recorded among the Anglo-Saxons. The 12th century work Liber Eliensis claimed Queen Aelfthryth used magick to transform herself into a horse while behaving in a promiscuous manner. A story in the Flateyjarbok describes a strange ritual among the Norse where a woman sought out a sacred horse penis. Moreover, there is a link between horses and the celestial bodies, as attested by the Eddas and Bronze Age archaeology.

Conclusion

Horses were a prominent feature of the elite Anglo-Saxon class and warrior culture. A connection to the divine, Woden, and magick is made obvious by literary records. It is very likely that horses were vessels to the afterlife, perhaps explaining the several burials and funerary sacrifices featuring them. They may have even been a symbolic animal to Freyr/Ing cults and fertility cults across Northwestern Europe.

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thorsenmark · 2 months

Video

flickr

The Trees Have Given to the Wind Their Melodies (Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park) by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: While walking along the Stout Memorial Grove with a view looking up and to the west at nearby coast redwoods in Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park. My thinking in composing this image was to have more of a leveled-on view, looking straight ahead at the forest around me. With some sunlight coming through the trees, it also helped to create some contrast with those portions caught in sunlight and the others still in the forest shadow.

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foxglove-the-never-fairy · 1 year

Text

Fairy Names Pt. 2

Fly with you! It’s been a while hasn’t it? Anyway, I’m here for a second part of one of my most popular posts.

The first post listed fairy names that were used in the DS game “Tinker Bell and the Great Fairy Rescue” in the create-a-fairy section of the game. While the names provided were feminine, I have pulled all of the masculine fairy names from the original Pixie Hollow game. Some names are repeats from the original post, but I kept them in as I wanted to get this out as soon as possible. I hope you enjoy. Here’s the original post.

~🧚🏻‍♀️🔥 Foxglove

First

Aaron

Ace

Acorn

Agate

Ajay

Alabaster

Alder

Alec

Aleron

Alex

Anchor

Andrew

Archer

Axel

Badger

Bailey

Baker

Bale

Banjo

Barclay

Basil

Benjy

Bert

Bevel

Birch

Boomer

Boone

Brock

Bruce

Brynn

Buddy

Burr

Burton

Buster

Calder

Casper

Cecil

Cedar

Chance

Chase

Chip

Clay

Cliff

Coal

Cog

Comet

Cosmo

Cote

Covey

Crag

Crane

Cyan

Dale

Dane

Darius

Darrin

Dawson

Decker

Deon

Devlin

Dewey

Donner

Drake

Dug

Dunn

Dustin

Dusty

Echo

Eddy

Edward

Elk

Emery

Erik

Ernie

Errol

Fennel

Fincher

Finn

Fir

Flint

Ford

Francis

Garnet

Glen

Gourd

Gourdie

Grove

Grub

Gull

Hale

Hare

Harris

Hawk

Henry

Heron

Hob

Jacob

James

Jasper

Jay

Kernal

Koto

Lance

Lark

Leaf

Lore

Lute

Lyric

Martin

Maze

Mica

Michal

Nadir

Nester

Oak

Ollie

Onyx

Otter

Peat

Pier

Pine

Quake

Quarry

Quinn

Rain

Ranger

Reed

Richard

River

Robin

Rook

Rusty

Rye

Sage

Sam

Scout

Sean

Seth

Shale

Shoal

Skimmer

Skyler

Spike

Spruce

Sterling

Stone

Tad

Teak

Thatcher

Thistle

Timber

Tiny

Toadstool

Tobey

Todd

Topher

Torn

Torrey

Vail

Valiant

Vern

Vic

Wedge

Wes

Wren

Wynn

Zak

Middle

Air

Almond

Apple

Aspen

Autumn

Badger

Bark

Beacon

Bear

Bitter

Brave

Bright

Brisk

Broom

Bumble

Candle

Cedar

Chilly

Citrus

Cloud

Cloudy

Clover

Cocoa

Copper

Cricket

Crow

Cub

Dapple

Dash

Day

Drift

Eagle

Elm

Evening

Falcon

Far

Fern

Fig

Fire

Fleet

Flicker

Foggy

Fox

Frost

Frozen

Funny

Garlic

Green

Hail

Hasty

Hawk

Hickory

Holly

Hurry

Ice

Ivy

Jelly

Jumpy

Lemon

Light

Lightning

Lime

Little

Lock

Lotus

Magic

Mango

Maple

Merry

Misty

Moon

Morning

Moss

Mossy

Mountain

Muddy

Never

Nickel

Night

Nimble

Oak

Orange

Otter

Parsley

Pear

Pebble

Pepper

Pine

Plum

Pollen

Pumpkin

Purple

Quick

Rain

Rainy

Rock

Rumble

Sage

Sandy

Sea

Shy

Silk

Slight

Snow

Sour

Speedy

Spider

Spring

Squall

Star

Storm

Stout

Strong

Sugar

Summer

Sun

Swift

Tangle

Thunder

Tiny

Toad

Tumble

Twisty

Water

Whiffle

Wild

Wind

Winter

Wrinkle

Last

Beam

Bee

Bell

Berry

Breath

Breeze

Bug

Button

Buzz

Chill

Chime

Cliff

Cloud

Clove

Crash

Curl

Dale

Dance

Dash

Dew

Din

Drop

Dust

Ear

Elbow

Eye

Feather

Field

Fig

Flame

Flap

Flash

Fleck

Flight

Flip

Flipper

Fly

Fog

Foot

Forest

Freeze

Fruit

Garden

Gem

Glade

Glimmer

Glow

Gourd

Grace

Griddlee

Gust

Heart

Hill

Hop

Horn

Hush

Jewel

Knee

Lake

Light

Lock

Loop

Lull

Meadow

Mello

Mint

Mist

Moon

Muddle

Muse

Newt

Noise

Nose

Peal

Pebble

Petal

Plume

Pond

Pool

Ray

Ripple

River

Roar

Root

Row

Ruckus

Rumble

Sand

Shadow

Sky

Smash

Song

Spark

Sparkle

Sparrow

Speck

Spirit

Splash

Spring

Sprite

Sprout

Stem

Stone

Storm

Stream

Stripe

Swamp

Swirls

Thistle

Thorn

Toad

Tree

Twill

Twist

Vale

Valley

Vine

Weather

Web

Whirl

Whisk

Whisper

Willow

Wind

Wing

Wings

Wink

Wish

#Disney Fairies #Pixie Hollow #pixie hollow online #fairy #fairy names #Tinker Bell #Tinkerbell

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ajgrey9647 · 3 months

Note

i'm not letting you sleep on the floor + boom! comics mmpr; Bulk (I am not choosy about which version)

Nothing's What It Appears

The proof is in the pudding, as they say, and when push came to shove, when all the chips were down, Bulk discovered his true greatness. Though others often treated him as ‘stupid’ and ‘lazy’ and ‘obnoxious’, he was anything but those degrading adjectives. In retrospect, his atrocious behavior and commentary did nothing to persuade otherwise.

He could see that now, when such matters were the last thing on anyone’s mind.

Bulk always aspired to greatness or fame or heroism as if they were his birthrights. He wanted to be noticed, to stand out, to be special. Which he’d succeeded in doing, just not the way he envisioned in his fantasies. The bully often stared out the windows in the wide blue yonder, his brain galivanting off on magical quests where he, and he alone, was able to slay the monsters, rescue the fair damsel, and return to a parade of accolades and admiration.

His grades certainly suffered for it, though in actuality, Bulk was quite intelligent. He loved history even if he couldn’t say such a statement out loud. His friends would tease him mercilessly for being ‘nerdy’. Oddly enough, not one would dare make a pithy comment regarding the teen’s larger frame as they might a less terrifying individual.

That was one thing that Farkas was secretly ashamed of, his weight having been a touchy subject most of his life. As a child, he’d always carried a little more ‘cushioning’ as his mom called it and there was not a thing wrong with a squishy, pinchable little boy. His grandmother, when she came to visit on holidays, typically Thanksgiving and Christmas, when one was SUPPOSED to enjoy the abundance of delicious food, would look at her grandson and just shake her head.

“Mae, that child needs to go on a diet! He’s almost as big as a house!” she’d scold, while Bulk sat awkwardly at the table, dinner plate waiting before him. “How’s he ever supposed to…”

The pair would argue loudly, garnering the attention of everyone else present and the embarrassed Farkas would feel their eyes looking at him with disgust before surveying the contents and the amounts on his plate with judgement.

Even if he was absolutely starving, Bulk’s appetite would fly the coop and he’d quietly excuse himself from the table only to disappear to his room to sob in secret.

To his mother, food was love and sure, he loved to eat the food she prepared.

“Just for you, sweetie!” she’d coo.

The growing weight only exacerbated his insecurities, the type that most everyone suffered from in childhood. Even then, Bulk would spend hours pouring over his collection of comics, along with Skull, who couldn’t afford such frivolities. Spiderman, Batman, the Flash, Iron Man, the Hulk… all sporting ripped abs and mountainous biceps.

‘Whoever heard of a fat superhero,’ Farkas glumly realized. ‘There’s no super cool suit to wear unless you’re built like a Greek statue…’

Skull would gamely pat his hand, at such times leaving his cheeky observations and wit on the back burner. He truly meant what he told Bulk and he meant it with reverence as someone of his particular build could be snapped like a twig.

“Don’t worry, Bulky! If any bad guys tried to take over, you’d could just sit on them! Smash ‘em into the dirt!”

That wasn’t the fighting style of his daydreams… and was certainly never depicted in the comics. Or movies.

Just cartoons and just for making fun of a character.

It was bullshit…

He was tired of being referred to as ‘fat ass’, husky, stout, ‘pig’ and a variety of other wounding descriptors.

Perhaps he just wasn’t cut out to be a hero. Maybe he didn’t deserve to stand out or be special…

When Tommy transferred to Angel Grove High, Bulk had attempted to assert his authority and put the surly teen in his place from the jump. Of course, that went over like a brick wall with the new student unleashing a torrent of curses and insults, may of which the bully had never even heard before.

“If you get in my face again, you fat tub of shit, I swear to all fuck that I will butcher you like they do pigs at market,” Oliver whispered, voice eerily growing calm and his eyes pooling creepy flood of black where Bulk had been sure they’d been hazel.

And this was all way before he’d gotten any possessed coin.

The fucking dick only continue to grow worse, a hateful, spiteful, unfeeling demon masquerading as human. Eventually, he’d sunk his fangs gums deep in Jason and his little cluster of dorks. Bulk thought the group of friends to be annoying and enjoyed pestering them, but this shit was off the charts.

Skull was sure that Tommy was a serial killer or would eventually become one, explaining to Bulk and their assorted crew that the other teen was seriously messed up in the head.

“Oliver’s the type to keep his victims locked in his basement until he tires of them,” Eugene whispered, glancing over as said teen stood at his locker, back to them. “And keep body parts as souvenirs. Stay the fuck away from him!”

The Skullovitch’s lived in the same neighborhood as the Oliver’s and the lanky teen shared with his best all the wild, crazy shit that went on over at their house: the abusive, loud alcoholic father, screeching, slutty looking mother, and Tommy giving as good as he got at times and at others blankly giving in to his punishments.

Every goddamn day it was something with that prick though…

Usually, Tommy would be swinging fists and brawling with Jason up and down the hall or he’d decide it was Zack’s turn to be his punching bag. Bulk was sure he was behind the rumor that Kimberly had been seen sucking Jason’s dick in the locker room at the Youth Center, landing both teens in the counselor’s office. He’d heard from Sharkie that Tommy had even tried to plant drugs in their lockers, but fortunately hadn’t been successful.

Even Matthew Cook tried to step in and intervene between this dervish and the other teens and ended up with a black eye, split lip, and a detention to show for it.

Bulk wished he were brave enough to throw Oliver into a locker, toss him in a trash can where he belonged. That was his new fantasy, throwing himself between that asshole and Jase and his pals. He’d bloody Tommy’s face and force him to apologize for his bullshit in front of everyone!

Oh, how he wished!

Then the day came that Skull, scrawny, boney-butt Skull, went one on one with the Green Ranger, saving the Blue Ranger from certain death by shoving the evil monster from the second floor of the mall. It had all been caught on tape and was played on the news for weeks.

Bulk crowed from the rooftops how proud he was of his best friend, and he truly was. He just wished he’d been there, been brave enough to do such a dumbass thing. Skull didn’t seem to like the attention all that much and shied away from the spotlight, something Farkas couldn’t understand.

But little did he know he’d get his chance to be a hero. He’d get more than one as would Eugene…

The time came when he and Skull saved Jason from Tommy’s punk-ass sneak attack at the Youth Center. Sure, they hadn’t went toe to toe with the nutty fuck, but he hadn’t gotten to Jase and that’s what mattered. The dark-haired teen wouldn’t discuss why he and Oliver were at odds and seemed shaken up that he’d been lying in wait for him.

However, it seemed that for no apparent reason Tommy eventually turned his wrath on Skull. And that was just not going down on Bulk’s watch.

Eugene had seemed more distant than usual, though he denied anything was amiss. Farkas had no way of knowing that the smaller boy had discovered the Rangers’ identities and had started a budding relationship with Billy, the Blue Ranger. Of course, Skull wanted to spend more and more time with his boyfriend, the pair meeting in secret and enjoying something that was just theirs.

That all changed when he discovered the bruise to Skull’s shoulder, left when Tommy paid him a visit, viciously shoving the smaller teen down in his own bedroom.

“Where the hell you’d get that battle wound, Ranger Rescuer,” Bulk teased, pointing to the dusky purple marring the pale skin.

“Ehhh… I dunno. Don’t remember.”

He was obviously lying, his grey eyes looking everywhere but his friend’s face. They were sitting in the lunchroom at school, the loud laughing and razzing of other students had nearly drowned out Skull’s lackluster response.

“Bullshit, buddy! Who hurt you? Cause I’m gonna beat the brakes off ‘em!”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Bulky. I’m fine! Can we just drop it?” Eugene whimpered.

But Bulk caught Skull glancing in Oliver’s direction, the venomous asshole seated at a table on the far side of the room, alone of course.

“It was him, wasn’t it! He hurt you! What the fuck is his problem?”

Pushing back from the table, he was on fire now. Skull scrambled to grab Bulk’s leather jacket, trying to pull him back down, pleading for him not to go over there, it wasn’t fucking worth it!

“Nah, this shit has gone on long enough! He’s never putting hands on you again, Skull!”

But before he could make his way over to where Tommy sat, the long-haired teen, with no apparent reason or trigger, shoved away from his lunch, darted across the lunchroom, and began pummeling Jason, grabbing him from behind by his hair and yanking him backward off his stool. Jase hit the floor hard and his head bounced off the tile, leaving a bright red streak to Bulk’s horror.

Laying there, Jason could only attempt defensive techniques as Zack, Billy, Trini, and Kimberly ran around to jump on Tommy’s back.

Then here came Bulk, like a charging bull, steaming issuing from his nostrils as he too grabbed a handful of hair, twisting Tommy’s head and neck painfully and pulling hard. Long strands came away with a sickening ripping sound and the green clad teen shrieked in fury, hands going to his scalp and abandoning Jason’s blood-covered face.

The whole lunchroom erupted, some students screaming in fear, others cheering and whooping at Oliver finally getting a come-uppance. It took several teachers and Mr. Kaplan to put an end to the wild free-for-all and it didn’t escape their notice that ALL the blows were directed at Tommy. Of course, fighting was an automatic detention for everyone involved no matter their role.

Jason ended up going to the nurse’s office and from there his worried and angry parents picked him up and took him to the emergency room to get checked out. Tommy’s parents never even answered their phone, not for the school nor the Scotts, who were discussing pressing charges and getting protective orders.

Not that they had enough time for everything to progress at all.

A short time later, Jason destroyed the Sword of Darkness, Tommy made his vile decision, and monsters roamed the earth in numbers the Rangers were unable to manage. The city nearly emptied, as citizens fled in terror. But things got much, much worse….

Just when they thought they were turning a corner, close to gaining the upper hand, they were brutally disappointed, shocked into near catatonic states at the sight of a bloody, shattered red Tyranno helmet and the hateful asshole bedecked in new colors.

Bulk had been there that day, trying his best to gather everyone he could find, to get them somewhere safe. Skull was at his shoulder, his nimble frame crawling into crumbling buildings and nearly smashed flat vehicles, searching for survivors. Trying to find a place to go, they’d ended up with ringside seats to Ascension Day (Ass-cention Day as Skull dubbed it later). Clearly, they’d taken a wrong turn.

“Rangers!” a voice boomed. “Take a look at what’s become of your precious leader!”

Holding the helmet before them, the others stared in disbelief, unable to defend themselves from a barrage of blows and strikes.

“Geez o’fuck, Bulky! Whoever that is killed the Red Ranger! We’re screwed!”

Bulk didn’t answer, watching this newest Ranger twirl as if on a runway in Milan. That voice was familiar.

“I know that voice, Skull!”

Now the floodgates opened. It didn’t matter anymore…

“It’s fucking Oliver, Bulk! That fucking dick motherfucker was the Green Ranger and now he’s… I don’t even fucking know! But Jason’s dead!” he screamed in anguish.

Neither teen nor anyone else noticed the group of putties carrying a severely injured, unconscious Jason Scott into a large transportation pod. It would be decades before the truth was revealed.

Once the dust had settled and he’d assured himself that all the people in his charge had been properly assessed and fed, did Bulk consider thinking about caring for his own needs. His grimy, tattered shirt clung to the sweat-sticky skin of his back, making him itch, and his was streaked with dark, sooty smudges. Mentally and physically he was drained.

Leaning against the wall in a darkened corridor, illuminated only by a small flashlight, Bulk finally allowed himself to cry. The tears tracked in smeary trickles down his full cheeks and hung suspended from lips and chin.

‘This can’t be happening. It can’t be real!’

The remaining Rangers were nestled in his care, carefully tucked into cots in a large conference room of the abandoned facility. They rarely spoke or even responded, so shocked and traumatized by the unexpected turn of events that they merely behaved like dolls or small frightened toddlers.

Besides Kimberly, who spit fire and venom, all the while still sobbing, threats and curses and promises of vengeance filling the air until she’d finally fallen into an exhausted slumber.

How could he have known the Power Rangers were so close? It all made sense now. Oliver’s vicious and unpredictable temperament, the other teens’ frequent disappearances, and unexplained injuries of the past. No wonder Tommy had been obsessing over Jason; the Green Ranger was out to murder the Red…

During the dangerous trek to safety, Skull confessed every damn thing and pleaded forgiveness. To which Bulk replied that was silly, of course he wasn’t angry or going to hold it against him. None of that meant jack-shit now. And his relationship with Billy wasn’t all that surprising, considering all the clues he’d glossed over in ignorance.

Now, Jason was dead, the Rangers near catatonic and almost without all the power coins, and that fucking dick bitch was hunting them down. How the fuck were they going to avoid him forever? There was no way!

“But he’s not getting the others, not no way, not no how! Or Eugene… He’ll have to go through me!” he hissed through his muffled cries.

‘Like that will be hard for him, doofus! He has two fucking coins and he took Jason out! How are you even the slightest threat to this ‘Lord Drakkon’?’

But he was determined to try.

Footsteps echoing down the hall caught his attention and he quickly ran his hands over his reddened, tear covered face, not caring that the darkness would hide most of the evidence.

“You alright, Bulky?”

Skull gingerly moved toward him, his flashlight bobbing as he walked.

“Why are you hiding out down here?”

Farkas sighed and sucked back a deluge of snot. His friend waited patiently, knowing the other teen needed time to process his scattered thoughts.

“Well, Skull, compared to everyone else, I’m fine. I got lucky, just a few minor cuts and bumps,” he grunted, pulling himself off the wall. “I just needed a minute to think. Like its going to make a damn bit of difference.”

“It might.”

“How? How is it going to change anything that’s happened?” Bulk suddenly yelled, unable to stifle his emotions any longer.

Skull spread his arms, the beam from the flashlight wildly arcing along the paint chipped walls.

“I’ll tell you how, buddy! It might make a difference for them,” he argued, pointing back along the hall towards where the survivors hunkered down. “So far, no one else has had grand ideas or has been capable of making a decision about one goddamn thing! Only you!”

The blonde hung his head as he listened to Eugene’s rant.

“Even the Rangers can’t do any of that right now! YOU gathered all of us, YOU got us around Fuckwad’s goons, YOU decided where we needed to get to and got us here, YOU even triaged and treated injuries, YOU cooked a massive meal, YOU, YOU, YOU!”

Wanting to shake the larger teen in annoyance, Skull hissed through clenched teeth.

“You are so BRAVE!”

At that, Bulk’s cheeks colored for a different reason.

“You really think I’m brave, Skully?” he whispered. “I’m no superhero, I don’t have special powers. I’m just a fat, loud-mouthed, smart-ass punk…”

“All that shit doesn’t matter to a hill of beans! Powers and secret identities and superheroes! Look what happened to our friends, the Rangers!” His voice dropped lest it carry back to the demoralized teens.

“Drakkon TOOK their special powers, he KILLED Jason, the goddamn Red fucking Power Ranger! He’s evil and crazy and he’s not going to stop until he gets all the other Rangers too! We’ve gotta be crazier and smarter than him, Bulk! Or we are all FUCKED!” Skull yelled, gripping Bulk’s shoulders now.

“We NEED someone like you, we’re counting on you!” he continued. “So, let’s go lick our wounds in private, then you and I will work together to get everyone as far from that psycho as possible.”

Stepping back, he noted the slumped shoulders and weary features just visible under the flashlight’s glow.

“But first, you have to get some rest, Bulk, or you’re gonna fall right over,” he decided. “Come on, this way.”

Taking his friend’s elbow, Eugene led the way to another room off the corridor. There was a bed with a small side table, a chest of drawers, and a hospital-style curtain divider.

“This is the last bed open and you’re taking it, pal.”

Bulk blinked, his green eyes scratchy with exhaustion and strain.

“What about you, Skull? I’m not letting you sleep on the floor!”

“Who said I was going to sleep?” Eugene asked, though it wasn’t a question. “Someone’s going to need to keep watch. I’ll grab my 40 winks later. Now get your ass in that bed and don’t sass me.”

“Alright, mom..” Bulk deadpanned, too tired to argue further.

Skull was right. About a lot of things really. And that wasn’t something he could normally claim as fact. Clearly the ramifications of Lord Drakkon’s birth and possession of not one, but two coins tied to this mysterious ‘Grid’ Skull described from he remembered of Billy’s explanation, were going to be vast and far reaching. He couldn’t verbalize it accurately, but Bulk could feel the very atmosphere, the ground beneath his feet, the air circulating the blue and green ball of mud, were twisting and writhing as if in death throes, gasping and grunting as all faded to nothingness.

#lord drakkon #boom! comics power rangers #power rangers #ao3 author #world of the coinless jason #ao3 fanfic #world of the coinless farkas bulkmeier #world of the coinless eugene skullovitch #friendship #don't judge a book by its cover #someone has to take charge here #bravery comes in many forms #growth #empowerment #coming into his own

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