The amazing digital art of Claud Z

Budokai 3: Thunder Fists

(C.F) Glacier Spear - ♫The Box♫

The Fifth Layer was etched in the Hell of Lightning's domain. This pit would be turned into a damnation for the vandals, slumlords, and warmongers. Gift boxes were thrown into the midst on both sides towards each competitor. Another crucial trial weapon added to the mix to inflict anguish. The wounds already they coveted weren’t ever numbing; the fatigue in their bones felt to the highest degree as if they were strapped with additional weights. Flood of water drew up past their ankles and continued to build up to their knees. As they opened up the lid of their gift they were greeted with barbed electrical wires to strap to their fists a whole next level to Rhalgr’s fist.

They gradually stumbled and used the leverage of the walls with their maimed bodies to attempt to even stand, limp and wobbling with shaky and damage running rampant they already felt needles in their spines. An almost ceremoniously return to form as they once again crossed each other like how they began this battle. There was no denying in the twinkle of their eyes and well eye in the case of Sinbad. An amount of mutual respect was given. Captain with a rasp throat cleared his voice box, “Ye know denizens of’ th’ land may be onto something, they typically handle disputes with dance-offs, or knitting, or betting on some horses n’ steed races.” He gave a small jest with all the warpaint of crimson soaking down him in streaks. A shared moment of a chuckle was given as the burly deeply gave his own, “Yeah, aye. Well maybe in another life. But I hope you aren’t worrying about the fate of your beloved crewmates. They’ll make exceptional additions to my lead. I’m already tasting which three I'll pick. Definitely that feisty blonde haired first mate of yours.” He refocused on the intense wage. Men who were just fashioned fighters and only get as much as they give. The Seeker didn’t bite the bait but gave it one last, “Mate I’ve got a creaking door that could use yer labor as my cabin boy.” Each of them both thinking the same thing and punching each other square in the face at the same time. Both jolting to the voltages of their strike-force. Before they both grinned at each other and regrouped their standing postures and began swinging back and forth, back and forth, lobbing another, in unprotected facial shots, tearing and taking turns just busting open old wounds and reopening new ones. Deforming each other and pushing the barbaric standards. Trying their mightiest to one-up the other! Disregarding all the insignificant vanity and clamor to sport, they struck representing the mismanaged bastards. Ruthlessly they accepted to burn in hell and perish rather than being fraudulent to themselves anymore. The scrambling of their brains and as they inched closer to death, is only ever when the importance of things shine through the impact blow of their memories once living all being used as receipts that were carving the other. Each hooking a grip on each-others shoulders and just pelting one another with a vicious barrage of pent-up rage. Until both of them reeled backward both tripping on themselves. Deliriously barely conscious. Suddenly Sinbad went to decide a change of pace and cheaply kicked a low blow against the pirate to get that payback from previous. But out predicted, he met his foot harshly into something metallic that reflected only damage onto the bruiser. That sly blackguard pulled out a protective guard. With a lopsided grin, “Th’ heavenly gems always told me t’ wear protection, about time I invested.” He said cheeky before tossing the cup and following through by getting an uppercut and taking the lead by dropping the humongous giant crashing below. When it came to straight-up rumble bouts where both individuals are locked in and just throw until the other falters on their hind. There were few instances where the Captain of Gold didn’t get an advantage on it. The final bell rang the toll. Only one last trip to hell left.  

bereft of hearth and home

ffxivwrite2022 24: vicissitudes n. a negative event or circumstance that is common to a particular setting or situation and is usually beyond one’s control.

zaya-centric. 2.3 MSQ. 485 wc. (slight format change b/c life is beating my ass lmao)

Stonesthrow was already a mess by the time Zaya stumbled out from the Gate of Nald’s shadow readjusting their turban and mask, which was a shame; the camp had been looking slightly better when they had visited before the Scions’ move to Mor Dhona, and now it was in ruins. Not much worse than what some merchants had done on their way into the city, though.

It was still a little baffling, how far some people were willing to go in order to drive the divide between those with gil and those who had none. At least Alphinaud wasn’t here to make some snide remark on top of it all.

Zaya stepped around the collapsed tents and canopies carefully, picking their way over to the Brass Blades still harassing the refugees. The mask with the turban wasn’t their best idea, with the metal frame that didn’t fit their face quite right and the stupid pinholes they couldn’t see that well out of, but it was what Zaya could find in a short timeframe, and without their eyes visible no one seemed to recognize them immediately. Putting their hair in braids instead of a ponytail and the lack of blue in their outfit probably helped, but Zaya wasn’t about to ask what it was that made them blend into the crowd, even with their horns and tail.

They tapped the shoulder of the highlander Blade standing at the edge of the crowd once they’d gotten closer, squinting at the insignia coin tassel dangling from her turban when she turned; it glimmered too much in the midafternoon sunlight to see the flower of her unit, so instead Zaya quickly reached up to grasp it. She was polite enough to let them—that, or she’d recognized the Flames’ Bloodsworn harness from beneath the billowy linen of Zaya’s shirt.

A balsam engraving greeted them from the shadow of their palm, which at least meant she was supposed to be here, assuming she was on guard shift. They let her insignia tassel go and tapped her back twice when she didn’t straighten up immediately.

“If you’re here t’ take over,” she said carefully, which confirmed what had kept her from leveraging her status over Zaya, “th’ Blades who started this mess are Gerbera, and that one’s their captain.”

She jerked her head over in the direction of a lalafell, who was flanked by two taller Blades as he approached some of the cowering refugees.

Zaya cleared their throat and took a deep breath. “Blades started?” they asked roughly, shoving down the climbing panic from having to use their voice with a complete stranger.

The highlander paused, as if she hadn’t heard them quite clearly, and then nodded. “Swear on my life an’ blade,” she said. “I’m one of the lucky Ala Mhigans, sure, but I’m not ‘bout to turn my back on the rest of us by arresting them on suspicion.”

Michael Jayston: A Versatile Actor's Journey through Stage and Screen

Michael Jayston, born on October 29th, 1935, in Nottingham, England, is a distinguished British actor renowned for his versatile performances on both stage and screen. With a career spanning over five decades, Jayston has left an indelible mark on the world of entertainment, captivating audiences with his commanding presence and the depth of his portrayals. Jayston’s journey into the world of…

View On WordPress

my first #youtube video

Edinburgh Castle's dog cemetery.

Looking down to the wee graveyard last week.

Hidden within the grounds of Edinburgh Castle, a dedicated dog cemetery may be the landmark's strangest feature.

There are a huge number of fascinating historical stories hidden within the walls of Edinburgh Castle, but perhaps none so curious and touching as the tale behind the castle’s dog cemetery.

The small green space is thought to have originally been the site of a medieval tower, but since 1840 it has been the final resting place for regimental mascots or honoured dogs belonging to high-ranking soldiers.

The cemetery is referenced in this verse from the Scottish Bard, Robert Burns:

”Berkin dugs here lie at rest ”The yappin worst, obedient best ”Sodgers pets and mascots tae ”Still the guard the castle to this day.

One of only two like it in Scotland, the unique graveyard is home to more than 20 headstones.

Sadly, several of the inscriptions have worn away over the last century or so, probably thanks to Edinburgh’s signature chilly, wet and windy weather.

Of the engravings still visible, the oldest dates back to 1881 - a dedication to Jess, band pet of the Black Watch 42nd Royal Highlanders.

The newest headstone in the cemetery belongs to Winkle, the “dear and faithful friend of Lady Gow and the Governor”, who died in 1980.

Other faithful pups laid to rest here include Yum Yum, Tim and Dobbler, who travelled as far as China, Sri Lanka and South Africa with the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders.

These days, visitors to the castle cannot enter the cemetery, but it can be viewed from above, like I did.

Link to Scottish Folk Tales

Tuesday Tales 2022-7-12 Angry #highlanderromance #timemtravelromance

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, where authors write weekly excerpts based on word and picture prompts. The prompt this week is angry. When you finish reading my snippet, make sure to visit all the talented authors of Tuesday Tales. Her heart thudded in her ears. The giant was telling her to do something. His words sounded miles away. It was like someone reciting a disconnected list. She understood the…

View On WordPress

How To Get Free Books On Folklore

I do not believe in gatekeeping knowledge, so this post will be sharing how I get all my folklore books for free, legally.

To explain, when a book gets over a certain age and the copyright is not upkept, it falls under “public domain.” When that happens, many different websites will provide those books as a free download.

This is not restricted to one type of book, either. You can grab anything from Sherlock Holmes to history books, to folklore, and more.

If you are looking for a specific book, you may have to check more than one source, so I suggest bookmarking more than one website.

Example Websites:

Internet Archive

Project Gutenberg

Google Books

Open Library

Electric Scotland (Scottish books)

Sacred Texts

National Library of Scotland: Ossain Collection

Forgotten Books

Hathitrust

For me when I download a book, I then upload them to my Google library so that I can use the search functions as well as bring up the books anywhere, but a popular PC option isCalibre.

If you are interested in Scotland-specific folklore, I do have some suggestions of books you can start with.

Scottish Folklore Books:

(link) A Dictionary of Fairies: Hobgoblins, Brownies, Bogies, and Other Supernatural Creatures by Katharine Briggs (1976)

(link) Folklore of Scottish Lochs and Springs by James M. Mackinlay (1893)

(link) Superstitions of the Highlands & Islands of Scotland by John Gregorson Campbell (1900)

(link) The Peat-Fire Flame: Folk-Tales and Traditions of the Highlands and Islands by Alasdair Alpin MacGregor (1937)

(link) Notes on Folk-Lore of the North-East of Scotland by Walter Gregor, M.A. (1881)

(link) The Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries by W.Y. Evans-Wentz (1911)

(link) Witchcraft and Superstitious Record in the South-Western District of Scotland by J. Maxwell Wood (1911)

(link) Witchcraft & Second Sight in the Highlands & Islands of Scotland by John Gregorson Campbell (1902)

(link) Folklore of Scottish Lochs and Springs by James M. Mackinlay (1893)

(link) Folk-Lore From The West of Ross-Shire by C.M. Robertson (1908)

(link) The Fairy Mythology / Illustrative of the Romance and Superstition of Various Countries by Thomas Keightley (1850)

(link) Popular Tales of the West Highlands by John Francis Campbell (1862)

(link) Scottish Fairy and Folk Tales by Sir George Douglas

(link) The Scottish Fairy Book By Elizabeth W. Grierson (1918)

(link)

(link) Popular Superstitions of the Highlands By W Grant Stewart (1823)

i learned what are the most mysterious places in the world

Marree Man – The fact that there is not a single witness to the creation of the Marree Man speaks to the absolute isolation of central South Australia. Somehow in 1998, one person or a group of people were able to create a 2.6-mile long line drawing of an aboriginal hunter, without being seen. In the midst of barren, arid land in South Australia, the Marree Man is the largest geoglyph and work of art in the world. Cut into the harsh landscape with lines over 115 feet wide and one foot deep, the towering Marree Man is easily visible from space. Thirteen years after the Marree Man was discovered during a flyover, little is known about its origin. Although we may never know the true origin of the Marree Man, it is certainly one of most intriguing modern day mysteries.

Chocolate Hills – Bohol Island in the Philippines during the dry season, you might notice what looks like thousands of chocolate kisses protruding from the terrain. These mysterious conical mounds are known as the Chocolate Hills. There are approximately 1,268 individual hills, their heights ranging from 100 to 160 feet, though the highest is almost 400 feet high. The hills, which are almost all symmetrical, consist of grass-covered limestone and turn brown during the dry season. Despite the abundance of hills, it is unclear how they were formed. There are multiple geological explanations ranging from oceanic volcano activity to limestone weathering. Numerous legends and tales also exist to explain the Chocolate Hills.

Giants Nest – In 1949 a geologist named Vadim Kolpakov discovered a large mound of limestone in the north of the Irkutsk region in southeastern Siberia. The cone is curiously shaped with a crater at the top and a small mound in the center. The mound is about 40 meters high and 100 meters across at the base. The smaller mound at the top is about 12 meters high. The crater was named Patomskiy, after a nearby river, but local residents call it “the Fiery Eagle’s Nest”. Since the discovery of the crater, there have been many theories as to what could have created it. For a long time it was believed to be a meteorite impact structure. Some linked it to the Tunguska meteorite, whose remains have never been discovered. But the crater does not resemble any other known meteorite site. Even now, the origin of the crater is not discovered.

Richat Structure – In the midst of vast, vacant Sahara desert, just outside of Ouadane, Mauritania, lies a 30-mile wide geological oddity known the Richat Structure, sometimes called the “Eye of Africa.” From space, this natural curiosity forms a distinct and unmistakable bull’s-eye that once served as a geographical landmark for early astronauts as they passed over the Sahara. Once thought to be an impact crater due to its circularity, the unusual formation is now widely believed to have been caused by the erosion of a geological dome formed by pressure from a bulb of molten magma below.

Plain of Jars – The Plain of Jars is a collection of large stone jars interspersed throughout the Xieng Khouang plain in the Lao Highlands. The stone structures are mostly made of sedimentary rock and, ranging from 3 to 10 feet in height, each can weigh up to 14 tons. To date, the origin of the jars is unknown, though archaeologists believe that they were originally used between 1,500 and 2,000 years ago. Many researchers have theorized that the jars may have once served as funerals urns or food storage. As local Laotian legend would have it, the jars were created by Khun Cheung, an ancient king of giants who lived in the highlands. It is said that Cheung, after fighting a long and victorious battle, created the jars in order to brew huge amounts of celebratory lao lao rice wine.

Giant’s Grave of Coddu Vecchiu – Giant’s or Tomba Dei giganti, are megalithic gallery graves that were used as public tombs during the Bronze Age. The massive gravestones were built by the Nuragic civilization, which existed in Sardinia from the 2nd millennium BCE. to the 2nd century CE. Despite the imaginative name, the sites were not the burial site of any giant; they were giant community burial chambers. Though we know the tombs had a funerary purpose, more questions remain. Little is known about the rituals or traditional beliefs that motivated their construction. Were they mass graves? Were they built to facilitate the journey into the afterlife? Since their existence has yet to be justified by scientific research, they have been credited to the supernatural, which has only increased their mystery. Legend also claims that yes, indeed, these were the tombs of powerful giants.

Zone of Silence – Pilot Francisco Sarabia was flying over a patch of desert land in Mexico when his instruments started to act increasingly odd. The man had to make an emergency landing in the middle of nowhere. Little did he know that this "nowhere" would be later dubbed "The Zone of Silence.” Weird radio silence isn't the only oddity of the creepy Zone. Like, what’s that weird trio that locals keep meeting in the Zone? They’re two men and a woman. Every time people see them, they’re wearing bizarre clothing that isn't suitable for a journey in the desert whatsoever. On top of all that, the Zone of Silence is known as a 50 km patch of deserted land where meteorites come crashing down on an eerily regular basis. On July 11, 1970, the US launched an ATHENA rocket from the Air Force base in Green River, Utah. The rocket was supposed to land somewhere in the area of White Sands in New Mexico. Instead, it went off course and, as if being pulled by some external force, crashed right in the heart of the Zone of Silence.

Michigan Triangle – Stretching from Ludington to Benton Harbor, Michigan and to Manitowoc, Wisconsin, the Lake Michigan Triangle has inspired numerous accounts of activity that are difficult to explain by rational thought. The mystery began in 1891, when a schooner named the Thomas Hume set off across the Lake to pick up lumber. Almost overnight in a torrent of wind, the Thomas Hume disappeared along with its crew of seven sailors. The wooden boat was never found. After the turn of the century, strange events happened at steady intervals. Of the more mysterious is the case of the Rosa Belle. In 1921 eleven people inside the ship, who were all members of the Benton Harbor House of David, disappeared and their ship was found overturned and floating in Lake Michigan. While it appeared that the ship had been damaged in a collision, no other ship had reported an accident and no other remains had been found.

Alaska Triangle – The Alaska Triangle is a place in the untouched wilderness where mystery lingers and people go missing at a very high rate. The area began attracting public attention in October 1972, when a small, private plane carrying U.S. House Majority Leader Hale Boggs, Alaska Congressman Nick Begich seemingly vanished into thin air. For more than a month, 50 civilian planes and 40 military aircraft plus dozens of boats, covered a search area of 32,000 square miles, but no trace of the plane, the men, wreckage or debris were ever found. Afterward, more planes went down, hikers went missing, and Alaskan residents and tourists seemed to vanish into thin air. In fact, since 1988, more than 16,000 people have disappeared in the Alaska Triangle, with a missing person rate at more than twice the national average. These disappearances are blamed on everything from severe weather to aliens, to swirling energy vortexes, to an evil shape-shifting demon of Tlingit Indian lore called Kushtaka, with no scientific explanation to the disappearances till today.

The Initiation Well – The Initiation well is 88 feet deep well located on the land of Quinta da Regaleira. Actually, it was used for ceremonial purposes. There is another small well near this well. Both these wells are connected by tunnels. The larger well contains a 27-meter spiral staircase with several small landings and the smaller well contains straight stairs that connect a series of ring-shaped floors to one another. The smaller well is also called the 'Unfinished Well'. The depth of this larger well is equal to the four-storey building, which becomes narrower on going closer to the ground. It is believed that there is some kind of light comes out from the well inside the ground and comes outwards. Surprisingly, there is no system of light inside this well, then where from this light comes, it is the secret. Anyone who comes to visit here, always raises the question of where the light comes from inside the well? Till today this secret is unsolved.

(Image Source : Google)

Thanks for Reading.

Above Fall/Wint 2010 - 'Highland Tale' Lily Cole by Olaf Wipperfurth

Sprout, you’re spoiling us with this the Valentine’s Day requests! I’m so excited to see what you come up with for them 🥰

Could I please request Soap x Reader with the following prompt?-

“If I wed your sister, it will bind me and you together for eternity, and I will spend every day of my marriage wanting you, dreaming of you, dreading the day when my last thread of honor finally snaps.”

"If I wed your sister..." (Valentines day requests)

Tags: Arranged marriage, Royalty AU, Courting, Prince Soap, Forbidden love

The young prince of Scotland, you think, is as handsome as he is brash and bold. 

He arrives in your kingdom with great fanfare from your royal family, riding atop a great dark steed and flanked by three of his most loyal knights. His eyes are the color of a cloudless summer day, and when he speaks his voice carries the melodies of his highland home.

You are utterly besotted by him. 

At dinners held in his honor you listen raptly as he regales the court with tales of conquests, hiding giggling laughter at his sharp wit and broad smile. His eyes twinkle as he catches your own wide-eyed stare, grinning broadly at your delight.

You sister is not as enthused as you. She listens politely, but you catch her examining his fingernails, eyes wandering over to some of the prince’s heralds with their battle-worn eyes. When the prince tells her the nickname his fellows gave him, she wrinkles her nose and asks “What on earth kind of name is ‘Soap’?”

Your jealousy that she is to be his bride knows little bounds.

She seems unenthused at the prince’s attempts to woo her, entertaining them only out of duty and little else. She rises with a sigh from the sitting room you share when a maid announces the prince is there to take her on a long stroll, eyes the favors he’s given her with blatant disinterest, and returns his letters with dry responses.

You, however, watch Soap as he spars with his knights, watching with warm cheeks as the sun catches his nimble form and skin glistening with sweat. You catch him at the stables as he tends to his mare as opposed to letting some young servant boy do so. When a bard comes and strings melodies of love, he risks leaning towards you with a sarcastic remark that makes you cover your sorting laughter with a cough. 

He comes to you under the guise of seeking guidance on courting your sister, but you find yourselves hardly ever speaking of her. Instead you spend long hours discussing his homeland, the kingdom’s politics, his fondness for the arts and his time spent in battle. The brief meetings begin to evolve into a secret rendezvous after dark, sitting in a dark corner of the garden under the moonlight as you watch his eyes soften as your laughter. He catches you alone in the hallways and presses kisses to your knuckles, blue eyes never breaking contact, winking mischievously before vanishing.

You want so desperately to be his.

Yet you’re forced to keep to appearances. Your sister’s hand in marriage must come first by birthright. To have you, her younger sister, marry first would dishonor her. Instead you must wait for her to be wed before you find a match of your own. 

Yet when you ask her about the Scot her answer remains the same: “If I must.” She comments idly, eyes distracted as she watches the knights training from a balcony high above. Distracted, deferent to tradition but indifferent to the man who would be her groom. You find her instead giggling with some knight who stuffs her kerchief into his doublet, or a young marquess who sends her flowers with a love letter scrawled with praises of her loveliness. 

Yet she does not send Soap away. 

You catch him outside, staring at a lake at the perimeter of the castle grounds. His eyes are fond but lonely, gazing reminiscently at something you can’t see. When you appear at his side, his visibly brightens. 

“Reminds me of home.” He tells you. “Of the North Sea.”

You’re silent, contemplative before answering: “My sister has always hated the water.”

Soap nods, sighs.

He turns to you then, eyes grim, jaw set. It startles you, this stormy look of his, but your surprise pales to your shock at his next words. 

“Let me ask for your hand.”

You blink, tongue-tied, before offering “B-but, my sister-”

“Will never understand me.” He finishes for you, taking your hands, grimacing as he gazes down at them. “Not like you.”

You try to speak, but find yourself empty of words. At your silence, he continues.

“If I wed your sister, it will bind me and you together for eternity, and I will spend every day of my marriage wanting you, dreaming of you, dreading the day when my last thread of honor finally snaps.” 

He looks up, and once more you’re enchanted by the blue of his eyes.

“I want you, bonnie. Just you.”

You find yourself lost helplessly in his gaze.

And you know inside your heart, you’ll never be able to deny him this. 

Budokai 3: Deep Down Under

(C.F) In Cinder, SInners -  ♫Dark Storms♫

The Second Layer of Hell dawned in Hell of Waters: Here drown deceivers, counterfeiters, mountebanks and false prophets. As pipe valves opened up in the pit letting trickles of rain droplets spill out. This match now held not only a time-limit, but a functional health standard. By the end of the Sixth Layer, participants must find some means to climb above and reach a finish line that crosses out. Where victory resides. But both opponents will still do everything in their means to prevent the other from making it an easy task. An almost last-man breathing setting now was in effect. With each additional wave of layers the water will rise in the pit with frequency of pour making this battle gradually become even more impossibly difficult. To swim with beaten and battered bodies all but impossible, there’s a reason this forbidden tribunal death-match was lost as nearly every bodied competitor died in the process.

Those who survived often were touted as the old pirate of reaching a pinnacle of a celestial and mystifying body forged by the hell’s and sins of their trials. Majority became lost and severely insane, stuck forevermore being a shell of their former or recovering as the price of being representations of pure evil. Little became champions of the disgraceful and opened the forbidden door of fiends and found their bodies and steps, able to forcefully enter a crack into and invade a heaven ever unintended to them. The seasoned pirate handled injuries far better and the pressure was daunting by his sheer experience as even with one hand unable to clench a fist entirely he still held a rumbling growl in his throat. With still some tack piercings in his flesh he discarded them and Sinbad violently stopped the recuperation of the Seeker quickly grabbing him by the back of his belt buckle and hair and rag doll tossing him onto the opposite side of the pit’s foundational wall. His muscular vascular soul-vessel flexing out with his unbridled strength. The Seeker clashed harshly again and attempted to lean and get himself standing back to his feet but already cornered another charging came. As a foot of the Highlander strangled against the throat in a pin briefly before clubbing the Miqo’te with a barrage of kidney punches and sharp forearms to the face and disorganized him. A uppercut hook dislodging some teeth before forcing them to be upchucked further from a devastating blow with a knee to the gut. A following chain with a doubling ax-handle sharply used to plummet the pirate into the remaining dry pavement. His wind knocked out his sight went like static. Every instinct was null and dull not even in control of his complete sense, his entire body reeked in anguish and agony. His skin held even more prude skin blisters and burns. Even though the Sun slightly clocked away from concentrating on the pit upon them the damage was done. The vicious brute now went to his own deplorable digging to bury instruments of musical pain. Uncovering a wonderful thick wooden club with dressed barbed wire furnished on top. He took some disgusting swings against the wind before returning to inflict carnage on his downed opponent who was struggling in recuperating to his feet and unable to even hear things from being hit so harshly in the noggin. He looked above and saw the mouths of his Crew looking disheartened and frightened and saw his Surgeon mouth off in a plea to ‘watch out’ and before it could even register his back felt the cool steel barb and the following viscous brunt of his back collapse into and violent retract to the soils he was getting very acquainted with. Flesh being torn asunder from a world quaking shot, heard as he recoiled with a loud grunt. A sadistic yet stern feature highlight encompassed the Highlander’s face already began feeling a relief accompany him. This brittle old man really wasn’t anything to fear. His crew showing sympathy and disgust, now that’s a sight he recalled as he in his short beginnings of being a pirate had earned himself a fancy title by being ruthless. He licked a bit of blood dripping from the Seeker from his wonderful weapon. Then drew a very fitting and nasty plot to humiliate and disgrace his former idol. Uncoiling the barbed wire from the blunt object. While the Seeker barely was showing consciousness his fingers were padding and tipping underneath the ground as his entire body was sunken on the soil. A mirage reminder of the port shores he often found himself on. Trauma resurfacing as he forgot how many times he had been washed to the foot of a shore always after a harrowing event. Pieces of him were scattered and castaway out there, how many already perceived him long but dead and they weren’t entirely wrong to count against him. His amber pupil glanced upward and saw his spiritual guide and butterfly once again on a pipe on the top where water was coming from and was still showing fight even though it got itself in this position by trying to fly down to him. Now it held an extra danger if that butterfly fell off that pipe and landed into the small pool below it’d drown… Another nagging message sent. He stammered and grit teeth metallic sanguine he was snacking on from an empty gum. As he began crawling pathetically like an insect worm. “Where are you goin?” He heard from a deep-low and murderous voice from behind that grabbed and yanked him by his faulty tail and approaching behind him with an arch and bend he took the barbed wire and draped it over his idol’s forehead and began giving him a bloody crown, how thoughtful. Zipping back and forth attempting to dissect right in-front of his entire Crew a massacre that’d be their only tattoo’s left of a leader too weak to make it. Sinbad leaned in and went to whisper, “You made me do this! Why ARE you such a disappoint-!” And as he did that and got uncomfortably close, with the back of his hand hidden in the sand, the Seeker countered with a breaking smash of a glass bottle of ale against the face. He retrieved it from his burial search. Sending him free and reeling back. The pirate tucked and rolled a few spaces before raising his legs high above the air and using all the momentum to spring himself into a dexterous standing. His head protruded with a wash of crimson but for him it brought him further as a reminder alive. “Will someone fetch that damn nuisance?” He pointed at the butterfly entirely with an unsettling nerve. He took his broken glass and mourned it with his facial features, “Shame.” Tucking his head before drinking the small contents left of fuel before it dried from the Thanalan’s unforgiving heat. Tossing it overhead once it was done he grabbed and picked up the barbed wire instrument that was used on him and now he returned the favor but this time he’d use them like a fishhook wire on the mouth of Sinbad and pulled back his knee digging into the sturdy back of the colossus but only briefly since two grips were difficult. His own agony screaming with his iris looking up. The Highlander searched to retreat but the pirate then wrapped and tangled a makeshift choker around his neck and his previous chokers as punishment for his apparel.   And then leapt on the back and quickly trampled over the choker to dig further into the flesh and smash the Highlander down into the soils for a turn of pace and rolled up his own coat over the Highlanders hand and shoulders getting him caught and disgracefully caught in his own wardrobe. A third bell started to chime which only meant the next Layer. The scarred Seeker spat out another tooth and gave a welcome to this chaos.

Am Fear Liath Mór, or the Big Grey Man of Ben MacDhui [Scottish cryptid]

The high passes of Ben MacDhui – the second largest mountain in Scotland – are haunted by tales of a mysterious creature that supposedly stalks hikers. Usually it is described as an impossibly tall, grey spectre, thereby earning it the name ‘Am Fear Liath Mór’, meaning ‘the big grey man’.

The story starts in 1891 with professor Norman Collie of the Royal Geographic Society, who happened to be a passionate hiker as well. The professor had just climbed the cairn on the summit of Ben MacDhui when he heard something that vaguely sounded like footsteps. I should mention that this area is notoriously misty, so you can imagine how easy it is for a lone hiker to get anxious when hearing strange noises.

The footsteps continued, but they were oddly spaced: for every ‘step’ the professor heard, he himself took three or four. It was as if this mysterious spectre was taking giant leaps or had huge legs. Eventually the professor was overtaken by panic and fled. Much later, in 1925, he recounted his tale and shared it with the newspapers, who were eager to publish and often exaggerate the story of a supposed monster or cryptid living in the Scottish mountains. At the time, the mystery creature was dubbed ‘the Ben MacDhui Ghost’ in the media.

Afterwards, multiple people came forward with claims about the mountain ghost, some of which were believable (hearing unidentified sounds) and some were more fantastic (Richard Frere and Peter Densham claimed to have had a conversation with an invisible, psychic creature).

Richard Frere would later claim that while he was hiking on the top of the Ben MacDhui, he had an unshakeable feeling that someone else was there with him, and he would hear a strange high-pitched noise that seemed to come from the soil beneath his feet.

Frere also gave a physical description of a creature he claimed to have seen (but it is difficult to verify whether this is the oldest actual ‘sighting’ of the supposed ghost): a large, brown creature was seen swaggering down the mountainside. It stood about 20 feet (6m) tall, was covered with short brown fur and had a disproportionally large head supported by a thick, muscular neck. It had broad shoulders but walked upright and did not resemble an ape.

Interestingly, only a single sighting happened on a nearby mountain, rather than on the Ben MacDhui itself: in the 1920’s, Tom Crowley, the president of the local Moray Mountaineering Club, claimed to have seen an apparition while descending from Braeriach to the Glen Eanaich. It was a very tall, misty grey figure with a humanoid shape, albeit with long legs that ended in strange talons (described as resembling fingers more than toes) and a head with pointy ears.

Dr. A. M. Kellas, himself a famed mountaineer, also claimed that a giant grey humanoid creature haunted the mountain. Among the many supposed sightings, I am uncertain which one is actually the oldest description of the ‘Grey Man’ as a tall, grey spectre, but it is certainly the most popular one. The grey apparition had cemented itself as a local cryptid and urban legend and many more supposed sightings followed.

Though it is often claimed that the creature is connected to ancient Scottish or Celtic mythology, this is most likely false. Gray Affleck, the author of ‘The Big Grey Man of Ben MacDhui’, attempted to research this link but could not find a single connection with actual Highland mythology.

In 1958, the June edition of ‘Scots Magazine’ told the story of Alexander Tewnion’s 1943 expedition to the mountain. While he was descending the mountain, a giant grey shape suddenly loomed over him. Having none of this bullshit, Mr. Tewnion immediately pulled out his revolver and fired three bullets at the thing. The mysterious apparition seemed not to notice, however, and kept walking towards him, upon which Tewnion fled.

Sources: Barrie, A., 2005, Sutton Companion to the Folklore, Myths and Customs of Britain, The History Press, 480 pp. Gray, A., 2013, The Big Grey Man of Ben MacDhui, Birlinn, 183 pp. (reviewed edition, first edition published in 1970) (image source 1 : Attila Nagy on Artstation) (image source 2: ManthosLappas on Deviantart, ©Fear Liath)

I've been listening to Lord Huron recently

human!John MacTavish, who grew up in the Scottish Highlands, raised by his grandma who was highly superstitious.

human!Simon Riley, who, as a young teen, moved to the highlands with his mother, and younger brother, after his father was arrested.

Neighbor!John who meets his quiet neighbor down the street, and talks his ear off on the way to schools every single day, and doesn't question the fading bruises on his new friend's skin.

Neighbor!Simon, who doesn't find John annoying in the slightest, and enjoys listening to John's stories of his grandma's wild tales of how her younger brother was apparently "snatched by the fae", or the stories of the horses that live deep beneath the waters, and seeing the little cottage down the road and feeling comfort and safety reverberate through the trees that separated the two of them.

Friend!Johnny who goes home "sick" one day after a rather nasty.... altercation between two larger students and himself, but comes back the next day, and none of those students were messing with him anymore.

Friend!Simon who, after Johnny went home, found those two kids after school and beat them senseless, the only time he's ever felt that violence was a good solution to something.

Young Simon, who goes to check up on Johnny, and sees the boy smiling through a black eye, behind a large woman who appeared as if she was going to salt him, then beat him with a wooden ladle. Luckily, Johnny boy stopped her from doing that, and introduces him and he sees the woman's eyes soften the slightest bit.

Johnny, who's house is full of wards, and hanging herbs, and salt, and cinnamon, who's known nothing else, who's friends with bugs because they're easier to talk to, befriends Simon, who comes from the suburban cities, who prefers to listen rather than speak, in a neat home, and a dreadful silence that is anything but warm.

After school, they explore the woods, and Johnny tells him more tales, of how not to step in certain areas, or follow shaking leaves, and to leave mushrooms alone. Simon believes he's never felt more at ease in these woods.

They happen across a fallen deer, who was long gone for the world, it's antlers and pale skull glinting through the muck it was covered in.

It whispers wordless sounds through lipless mouths.

Johnny calls for him to keep on the trail, and Simon gets up to follow him off.

Give me late teens Johnny, who's yelling at Simon for not telling him sooner. Give me Simon who feels guilt in the pits of his stomach for not telling his best friend sooner. But enlisting was the only thing he could see him doing with his life. He could be used for good, he could do something good with himself.

Johnny tells him he was good enough for him.

Simon leaves the next morning.

Nature conservationist!Johnny, two years later, finds Simon's mom at his doorstep. By the look on her face, she had bad news.

Simon went missing in Mexico.

Nature conservationist!John, who, for another six months, has dinner at least once a week with Simon's mum. She was from a further part of Scotland, but they understood each other well enough, and bonded over different memories of her son. It seemed to keep them both afloat.

Simon who returns after seven months.

Nature conservation officer!Johnny, who is busy trying to figure out why the red deer population is dwindling in his area. Not to mention the fact that the investigations office is on his back about missing people, and Simon comes back.

Something is wrong.

John knows what shell shock looks like. He knows what the horrors of war do to people.

This is not shell shock. This is not that.

Simon came back, but he came back wrong.

His honey eyes were muddy, and he blinked too hard. His head turned too smoothly when he responded to his name too late, like he was getting used to being called something new. The curve of his lips was off, his jaw too sharp. His kind eyes are.... the favorite part of Johnny's Simon is different.

It was unsettling. His skin prickled when he watched, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rising when Simon entered the room too silently.

Changeling!Ghost, who does not enter Johnny's house. Johnny doesn't know why he refuses the offer. He feels like he's being watched. He misses his friend. Obviously, his friend lives down the street, rationally, he knows that person is Simon Riley, the kid who beat up bullies, who fell fifteen feet out of a tree and got up unscathed. Simon Riley, who was afraid of scorpions and worms, who went to war and survived, and came home.

His instincts told him the opposite.

Johnny feels like he's being watched at night. He thinks he can catch whatever it is, lurking at the treeline of the woods. He sets harmless traps to catch and release, believing the creature is small.

When he finds the cage completely trampled, crumbled until it was no longer recognizable, he no longer believed this thing was small.

Nature Conservationist Officer!Johnny MacTavish who sees the creature looming from the trees, it's tall antlers tangled in muck and weeds, body slightly warped in the darkness, claws and all. It was tall, much taller than him, with scarred skin stained with the dyes of berries and dirt and clay. Moss grew off of the massive red deer antlers, and the greenish eyeshine of a deer blinking from almost human eyes.

Honey colored and kind, and completely unrecognizing.

Johnny drops his flashlight in shock, the lens shattering, scaring the creature off.

Turned fae!Simon, who had no memories other than blood and war and pain, only wanted to figure out where the feeling of familiarity came from, in a world so unknown, and loud, cruel.

(this is inspired by Meet Me In The Woods by Lord Huron)

Ask box is open!

fly away on my zephyr (bill weasley & reader)

Summary: You and Bill discuss your post-graduation plans. (1.06k words).

Tags: fluff, Bill being a cutie

A/N: I am so bad at answering requests (I promise I see them and I think about them daily). But I wanted to write this one to break things up a bit. We love Bill Weasley around here, and especially Bill Weasley fluff.

FLY AWAY ON MY ZEPHYR (B.W. & READER)

“(Y/N)!” 

Bill Weasley dismounted his Nimbus, feet gliding over the grass before effortlessly stepping down with one foot. He swung his long leg over from the other side, and commanded the broomstick to his palm.

It’d been a year since you began dating and you couldn’t wrap your head around how Bill was so cool and perfect. Head Boy, top of his class, well-mannered, athletic, handsome, committed. You thanked the stars every night that he was your boyfriend. Yours, all yours. 

As your Bill approached, your friends giggled, taking it is a cue to leave you alone. One of them whispered, “Have fun with Bill!” before catching up with your other friends.

Bill sped up the last couple metres, his long legs turning what was a jaunt for most people into a jog. Before you could react, Bill swept you up in his strong arms. A gentle spring breeze swept over the courtyard, the smell of flowers sweet but Bill’s embrace even sweeter. The same wind blew away a long strand of ginger hair to reveal a metal stud on Bill’s right ear. Definitely against the dress code, but even if McGonagall saw it, you reckoned she’d turn a blind eye.

After all, it was your last day of your last year at Hogwarts. 

The ceremony wrapped up earlier in the day. Gryffindor had won the House Cup and Bill and his teammates fancied themselves one last game of Quidditch to celebrate. You knew he was going to miss the field and the glorious memories he made there. 

Bill gave you a peck on the cheek and set you down. He wanted a little more than that, but he also wanted to maintain some propriety so as to not embarrass you in front of your friends. Bill then took your hand and walked with you across the field.

“You’re still going to Alfie’s party, right?” Bill asked, leaning down to look at you.

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“You best control yourself then, we wouldn’t want to miss the train tomorrow.”

“I—what?” you stammered. “I can control myself just fine! If I’m remembering correctly, you were the one I had to try to carry back that one night.”

“What?” Bill chuckled. “That never happened.”

“Oh, it so did,” you giggled. “I’m sure Filch was peering angrily from above the staircase. He’ll recall it for you.”

Bill made a face. “No, thank you. There are some people I won’t miss.”

After a moment of silence, Bill’s face quickly shifted into a still, more serious one. “And (Y/N),” he started. “I promise we’ll talk more about my job offer after tonight, alright? I don’t want it to spoil the mood.”

Bill clasped his other hand over yours, engulfing it. You fought the quiver of your lip and nodded.

Miraculously, you and Bill both survived the tell the tale the next morning. The party was wild, rife with unsanctioned alcohol, and Alfie spent most of the night poking at Bill, joking he was going to rat him out. Bill shook his head, asking Alfie how he was going to snitch on him if he himself was indulging in extra-potent whiskey, and stayed by your side for most of the night. 

After Bill ensured everyone had boarded the train, he led you to his own compartment—Head Boy privileges and all—giving you some much needed privacy. The Hogwarts Express flew through the Scottish highlands, the grass tinting the windows green. Bill watched you watch the mountains from beside you. 

Bill’s hand found its way to your thigh, drawing your attention to him. “I thought about it, and I accepted the offer.”

You nodded in encouragement and weakly, you responded, “As you should.” 

Another reason you loathed graduation was because you wouldn’t be able to see Bill everyday. Heck, he wasn’t even going to be on the hemisphere as you. Maybe you should’ve savoured having breakfast with him in the Great Hall everyday, laughing as he dotted ketchup on your nose. Carried your cauldron for you because it was too heavy. Waved to you as you admired him in the Quidditch stands. Wrapped his coat around you leaving the snow-covered grounds of Hogsmeade. 

“(Y/N), I know it’s not going to be easy for us,” Bill said with a frown. "That's why I was hesitant."

“No, Bill,” you said. “I’m so proud of you. Being employed at Gringotts is difficult enough, especially straight out of school. And a curse-breaker? In Egypt? There’s no one but you who could accomplish something like that. This is going to be huge for you.”

“I know,” Bill admitted. He bit on his lower lip. “This job is something I’ve always wanted. It’s truly a dream come true, but I keep thinking about the distance I’m putting between us.”

“The distance isn’t the main thing on my mind,” you corrected. 

“Then what’s on your mind?” Bill asked. 

“Bill,” you whimpered. You've had nightmares about Bill disappearing in some dune or losing his way in a sandstorm. And a stupid one where he was abducted by camels. “You’re going to die.”

Bill laughed. “I’m not going to die, (Y/N). That’s a little dramatic, even for you!” 

He gave you a peck on the lips. “You may die of boredom at your desk job at the Ministry, my love, but I assure you I’ll very much be alive.” Bill squeezed your waist. “I’ll be back in England every holiday and a couple weeks in the summer for vacation. I told the goblins that that was non-negotiable. And I want you to come visit me in Egypt whenever you can.”

You perked up. “Really?”

“Of course!” Bill affirmed, like any insinuation of you not being there was unthinkable. “You’re worth more than any treasure I might find. I refuse to lose you because of this.”

You blushed at Bill’s words. He’d clearly thought all this through and worked out every possible kink before accepting the job.

“I love you, Bill,” you whispered in his ear. “I can’t wait for you to come back.”

One of Bill’s hands found yours, and his thumb kneaded little circles below the knuckle of your ring finger, as if he could alchemize some imaginary metal and diamond to give you. But this, this would have to do for now to vow his dedication to you.  

“I love you, too, (Y/N).”