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grimmylover7 · 3 months

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Exert from Chapter 1 - Chokehold

Smut: 18+ Only

She was up in the Whitetails for the morning, hunting for rabbits and deer to bring back for everyone. Staci had mentioned he hadn’t had fried deer steak before and at her demands that he was missing out on a damn good time, she’d set out that morning on a mission to correct that atrocity. It also gave her something to do on her day off rather than sit and stew in past pains. She’d already taken down several rabbits, the game tucked away in a cooler in her trunk but she’d yet to find a good buck to shoot. Just some fawns, a few doe’s; nothing she wanted for meat.

With one last sip of her drink, she slid off the hood and grabbed her rifle, heading back into the brush, determined to find a suitable target. It took some patience and sharp hearing but eventually she stepped out from behind a tree to see a gorgeous buck grazing in a small clearing. At least a sixteen pointer with a quick glance at his antlers. She raised her rifle with a breath, aiming in a split second down the medium scope then pulling the trigger on the exhale. The buck went down gracefully, a clean shot right through the head taking it out quickly.

She was almost to the kill when a quick movement off to her flank sounded in the brush. Under normal circumstances she would’ve ignored it, no worries to what could be shifting around in the bushes but when a low growl followed it? She tensed. Slowly, carefully, she turned to meet the eyes of a wolf prowled low to the earth, clearly stalking her by the way it bared back its maw to flash its fangs at her. She didn’t move for a moment, simply deciding whether killing it was a good option or if it would leave her alone. She’d wrestled with bears, bobcats and cougars, hell- she even had a particularly horrible nemesis of a wolverine that seemed to find her often. She didn’t have the heart to kill animals idly- only for food. Never for sport.

The wolf seemed to be gaining the nerve to attack but rather than giving it the chance, she pulled her knife from her thigh holster, never letting her eyes leave the wolves as she stepped backwards towards the buck carcass. Without needing to see her hands, she carved her way through the flank of the deer, noting how the wolf ceased its snarling to instead watch her hands intently. Hungrily. The poor thing looked to be starving once it actually crept from the brush completely. With a huff, she tore off the meat from the back leg then shook it at the wolf to gain its attention from the bulk.

“Alright. Here ya go.” She tossed the meat across the clearing, the wolf's ears perking up in excitement as it thudded against something unseen, “Now go on– get.” She shooed just as the wolf sprinted after the meat.

The sound of ravenous chomping filled the quiet morning air a few seconds later, making her smile as she readied to carry the buck back to her Jeep. She was just finishing tying off the bindings when there was another rustle from the bushes, and she half expected the wolf to come traipsing out but instead she was met with a different sight. An unexpected one.

A mountain of a man stepped from the shrubs instead, a bright red rifle slung over his shoulder and a pistol strapped to his thigh. His red hair, beard and deep inset eyes piercing in the early morning light. He looked as though he’d just glanced back to where the wolf had run to but stopped when his sight landed on her. In a matter of seconds, she realized two very important details as they stared each other down.

One. He was former military, had to be with the faded army jacket over the bloodied shirt he was wearing. The boots, the knife at his thigh similar to her own. Even the rifle looked to be military grade but personalized.

Two. His shirt was freshly bloodied. In such a way it looked like he’d been hit by something.

Her eyes widened just slightly as a slow mortified sensation flooded her, gaining momentum when his eyes narrowed down at the buck at her feet, the missing flank chunk then back to her with a solid glare. It all happened in a matter of seconds but that was all it took– quick to tuck her knife away so she could wipe her hands off and stand to apologize. Not that she got the chance.

“You make it a habit of hitting strangers with raw meat?” He groused, clearly analyzing her with the way his gaze scanned her from head to toe. Not in a man checking out a woman— more like a predator scoping out prey if she was being specific. The attempt to unnerve her paled in comparison to her struggle to not crack up at what she’d done to him.

“No. Gotta say, you’re the first…” She tried valiantly not to grin, biting her bottom lip just slightly as his gaze fell flat at her. Unimpressed but thankfully not pissed like she worried.

“Not even remorseful about it either.” He shook his head, a twitch of a smirk showing behind that beard of his making her huff out a short laugh she tried to cover up.

“Shit. Nope. You caught me-- I am sorry though just… fuck, of all the places you could’ve been you were really in a bad spot.” She snorted.

“No regrets you launched a wolf at me then?”

She wanted to say yes. To apologize for that too but instead she made a point to look him over, all 6’2 of him with obvious muscle and hands that clearly held his guns often. He was scarred enough to show he’d been through some shit too, definitely worse than a measly wolf jumping him in the shrubs. Instead, she smirked out right.

“Hmm...nah. You look like you can handle yourself.”

He let out a bark of a laugh at that then, the two of them sharing a moment between strangers that had her feeling warmer in the chilly morning air. With a chuckled agreement, he was sauntering back his own way through the woods, the two of them exchanging a simple goodbye leaving her to finish with her morning hunting.

Yeah. She was definitely enjoying Hope County.

Another month went by, instances passing with her, Victor, Joey and Staci managing to have all sorts of wild times between the four of them with only Whitehorse to give a shake of his head at their antics. Between getting to catch up with Victor, settling into her new home and enjoying her new job, Rook felt more alive than she had in ages. Even more so when she went out hunting and seemingly always stumbled across the same giant mountain man she’d decidedly labeled “lumberjack”. Every so often when she was out, there he was too, the same red rifle taking out his own kills or meandering the woods like a predator himself.

At first, they had yet to share more than a few simple words between them on occasion, but somehow that was more than enough to get a feel for who he was.

“Ah I see you’re still here.” She hummed, stumbling upon him first this time.

“Foods not gonna put itself on the table.”

“True that.”

“I saw that shot from across the field. Nice.” He said in passing, already traipsing through with his own kill.

“Thanks. Woah, damn that’s a big buck.”

“Yeah, got him just a bit ago. Gotta get him back to my truck.”

“Trying to one up me, lumberjack?”

“Ha, not much to take on, shortstack.”

Their most recent run-in had changed things though, the moment happening while she was out and about on the eastern border where the Henbane brushed with the Whitetails.

She’d just managed to find a good lookout point when out of nowhere her arch nemesis of a wolverine found her and went on the attack immediately. She was so surprised she’d yelped and been barreled over by the damned thing, rolling through the bushes wildly to try and wrangle the beast.

Several scratches and attempted bites later, she had the bastard by the scruff and front legs, holding him away with a scowl on her face as she trudged through the trees to a clearing. Her breaths were heavy in an attempt to simmer down her anger at the little fucker so she didn’t strangle it, but also to focus so she could keep a firm grip, so it didn’t escape. Needless to say, she was far more keyed up than she should’ve been that early in the morning, causing her to snap. Just a little. At a Wolverine no less.

“Look here you angry little shit— I don’t appreciate you stalking me, attacking me! Go fuck with someone else!” She hissed, shaking the vermin threateningly and about to scold it some more until someone cleared their throat behind her.

“Huh… Can’t say I’ve ever seen someone get after a wolverine before… Or catch one like that.” Lumberjack was back, deep voice filling the air along with a hearty chuckle that had her turning just enough to glare at him too.

“This little bastard has been after me since I moved here. He even followed me up from Holland Valley just to jump me today!” She scowled, shooting her fierce gaze back at the hissing beast.

“How do you know it’s the same one…? They’re all pretty rabid.” The man snorted, coming closer to inspect the creature at her side.

“You see the scar on the top of his head? That was from me. I got him with a rock the first time we crossed paths.” Rook’s glare simmered down a little more after that and the Wolverine seemed to follow, realizing it was not going anywhere in her firm hold and would have to bide it’s time to escape. Lumberjack let out a low whistle.

“Well damn, how many times has he come after you?” Their eyes met, her face flushing just the slightest from his pale gaze. Up close he was quite a looker past the menacing look he displayed but she wasn’t about to start thinking that train of thought. Not this early in the morning anyways, and certainly not with a damn pest in her hands.

“This is the eighth time.” She grumbled.

“Why not just kill it then? Would save you the trouble.” The man shrugged, eyeing the creature blankly without a hint of fear normal people would show for such a thing. She shared that sentiment. She wasn’t quite normal herself either and wasn’t the slightest bit phased by rabid animals in the forest. She’d throw down with a moose if she had to, without batting an eye. There were just some strange things you had to accept in life.

“Despite what the military trains us to believe, sometimes there’s better answers than killing an enemy.” She sighed, shooting the thing a petulant look. She didn’t know what that better answer was, per se, but she hoped she found it before she cracked the fuckers head open.

Lumberjack remained silent, merely regarding her intently in a way that had her flush creeping its way down her neck and chest. She didn’t want to acknowledge that though so instead, she tightened her hold before moving away, readying herself to give a tight spin before launching the wolverine several yards away into the far trees and field, where it would hopefully fuck off for a while. The noise it made as it flew through the air had her positive that it may just finally do that– a high pitched screech that left her and lumberjack shooting each other scrunched looks for a long moment. They were bursting into loud laughter in seconds, never having heard such a noise from an animal but it also wasn’t everyday Rook decided to launch one either.

That was as good an icebreaker as any and had somehow led to them walking together, despite still hunting their own prey. Not that she minded. She didn’t even know his name, but it felt comfortable around him, easy to talk to even though he was blunt and sarcastic, meeting her own quips head-to-head.

They wandered all over together that morning, exchanging hunting stories, shooting game together and shit talking about each other's shooting skills when they’d seen the other up close. He was damn good with a rifle. She wasn’t even confident on who the better marksmen was at that point but she didn’t rightfully care, only interested in seeing more of it. The way he pressed the butt of the gun to his shoulder, one eye sliding shut to gaze down the scope. The same breathe in, aim, exhale, shoot she learned reflected in his shots but just a slight bit faster. It was definitely just the method, not the look of his face and how handsome he was while in the zone. Handsome in a burly, rugged sort of sense too, which was right in line with the kind of man she’d learned was her type (aka the opposite of the kind of man her ex-husband was). Plenty of times he’d caught her staring when it happened, but she’d tried her best to act like it was nothing; even more so when she noticed his intense gaze mimicking her own when she went to shoot her marks.

By the time noon hit, they were making their way back to where her Jeep sat parked, strands of conies bundled in their hands and a buck over his shoulder that she’d killed before he could pop off the shot first. She’d agreed to split it though, just because the look he’d shot her when she teased him was so worth it.

“Bet you don’t even know how to skin a deer properly, shortstack. Can you even reach it when it’s strung up?” He snarked, clearly taunting her right back in a way that had her rolling her eyes at him.

“Been doing it since I was five, lumberjack. Probably can do it better than you.” She threw back, leading the way to the trunk of her Jeep, him hot on her heels.

“That a challenge?” He gruffed.

His voice had gone deeper, rolling low in her ears and gut, making her head spiral. Jesus– she hadn’t had urges like the ones he gave her since she was nineteen. Shaking it off, she glanced back with a coy look, brow twitching up just enough to make it clear she was still teasing.

“Why? Wanna get your ass handed to you?”

There was a tension in the air that followed her words, bubbling under the surface as he dropped the buck onto the tailgate along with his strands of rabbits. She set her own down too, merely busying herself with the motions of getting stuff loaded up but actively feeling his heated gaze on her the whole time. Simmering. Heating her up from the inside. The chilly morning air did nothing to tame the heat that rushed her cheeks, hoping it just seemed brought on by the hiking and not by him. He must’ve been able to read her better than she thought.

“You’re a mouthy brat, aren’t you?” He rumbled, somewhere just behind her right ear. The growl to his voice had her core fluttering wildly, breath catching just the slightest. She wasn’t sure if he was just commenting or… flirting. The only way to find out was to test the waters but fuck she hadn’t flirted since she was a teenager. Ever since the horrible mistake that had landed her with, she hadn’t dated since– too much trauma, too much sadness to think about it– but here? Now? She could want for it now.

“Always… Got a problem with it?” Her voice was breathy, glancing over her shoulder just slightly to eye him. Sharp blue eyes were waiting to find her gaze, intense and heated as they observed her.

“Oh no... I’m skilled at taming wild animals, you’d be no different.” He murmured, closing in on her just enough that she could feel him at her back, pressing her to the tailgate. Testing the waters too. Inching ever so slightly into the mood they were making.

“I’d love to see that.” She huffed, on the edge of a soft laugh but it died in her throat as he pressed into her fully, trapping her against the trunk and allowing her to feel every inch of him at her back. All hard edges and muscle, solid and big, encasing her form and making her breath hitch out of her chest. Fuck. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this wet, if ever, nor the last time she’d had sex, but her libido was on overdrive at the feel of him. She didn’t even know his goddamn name but couldn’t care less, just knowing she had a giant lumberjack behind her, and he was definitely interested in her climbing him like a tree.

Which... is exactly what she did.

She’d yanked him into the backseat of her Jeep the second he kissed her, both fumbling into the other like starved teens. There wasn’t even time to completely strip– just feral grinding and hands tugging at clothes impatiently. Her tank top was pushed down just below her breasts, bra unclasped by quick fingers then tossed while his jacket was shucked off and his jeans and belt undone with her own nimble touch. It was completely rushed and crazy, but she felt she’d earned such a wild spur of the moment tryst after all this time so, she went with it. Especially when it meant she got to enjoy him fingering her skillfully to her first orgasm in ages. Then a second when she got his pants down just far enough to ride him like her life depended on it. To say it was a good ride would be blasphemous. He’d rocked her entire world (and her poor Jeep) that day. Grabbed her by the hair, fucked her silly on his stupidly thick dick and praised her through the whole thing in a way that had her thighs quaking for days afterwards. Or maybe that was thanks to the second round, when he’d flipped her to the side and fucked her into the seat with deep punishing thrusts that had her seeing stars and howling for the whole woods to hear her. Every inch of skin he’d had access to had been left in bites and bruises, no part of her chest spared leaving her with plenty of good memories to keep that flutter going.

Whatever the case, he’d added an even brighter warmth to her new life, and it seemed like the hell of her past was finally letting her go up in the north. She warmed at the memory from two days prior, the last part of their meeting being the highlight really.

“I think I’ll take your word on those skills, lumberjack.” She’d panted, still trying to get her wits about herself while he nipped at her neck with a soft hum.

“Jacob.” He rumbled, pressing his nose into her neck almost like a nuzzle that had her melting into mush.

“Mm pleasure to see you in action, Jacob.” She said cheekily, enjoying the way he pulled back to shoot her a heated look.

“You got a name, shortstack?” He huffed, nipping at her bottom lip before kissing her a few more times to leave her dazed and unfocused.

“Call me Rook.”

She melted a little more into her seat. Life was finally starting to go well for her. "

#far cry 5 #jacob seed #ao3 #fanfiction #chokehold #fc5 fanfic #smut

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yeyinde · 1 year

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Hi! Hope you're doing well. I just have to say that you're my favorite writer and a huge inspiration to me. Everything you write, even the small little snippets, just make me so happy.

Are you by chance still doing the WIP snippets? Cause I go feral for Jacob Seed, and when I saw you had a WIP for him I can honestly say I almost fell out of my chair.

Hiya! This is so sweet!! Thank you so much 🖤😭

Jacob Seed is one of those characters who I'd very much like to chisel open. He's so intriguing. His ideologies are so unfounded but his conviction and his reasons for them are what I find really appealing.

This is quite a deviation from what I normally do—third person, technically no reader-insert (I kindaaaaa made an OC? Oops) a bit darker (dragging me back to my slasher roots), and pulls a lot from a pseudo-religious upbringing. It is really fun to write, in theory, but is one of those fics that is mentally taxing in the sense that every piece is part of a bigger picture. Despite that, though, I could probably talk about this fic more than any others because of all the weird influences it draws from—Siken (it was originally gonna be titled war of the foxes but I felt that was a little too on the nose so I changed it to wishbone which is even more on the nose), bible mythology (in particular, the warring interpretations of Abaddon, iyjyk but also??? Abaddon and Michael, though???? 👀), and um. Cult shenanigans.

Here is a little bit about it!

He's in her head now, a sickness polluting her grey matter until it's shaded the same colour as the burning auburn around his wicked mouth. The one that splits wide, and croons about her failures, her destiny, until the rasping slur of his words are skeined tight around her gyri. Festering like a cancer she can't clove. One that sounds more like a truism each time she hears it.

Jacob has his finger on the trigger of a loaded gun with the barrel pressed tight to her cerebellum. A tool, he said. One without a master. Until now. Until him.

She can't fight him. Can't get rid of him.

She wonders if she ever even tried.

And for some Rook x Jacob (kinda sorta but in a weird and twisted way):

Jacob doesn't give an inch even with the barrel of her Whitetailer pointed at his heart. A beat, then, where the world around her seems to shiver at the smirk he sends her way, his own hand fixed, deadly and calm, on the butt of his garish rifle. Red.

(Of course. Of course.)

He stands on his tower, a castle of rock in the middle of the Whitetail Mountains, surrounded by unfathomable wilderness, and the broken remnants of his wolf beacons, his fallen men. His Judges.

They lay by her feet, discarded offerings to the man who vultured her sense of self, her agency, until the person she was before all of this was lost, collateral to a war she never agreed to. She feels it sometimes, the putrefying remains of idealism and hope clawing at her skull until the tissue shreds and bleeds. Feels it like a second degree burn, a scab she can't stop picking at, and then pushes it back into its sarcophagus. It's an effigial prison in which she's both a warden and cellmate.

It rears, now, as her patent yellow boots sink into the ribcage of a man torn to shreds by her bullets, her fists, mourning the loss of who it once was—a person of empathy and compassion. Someone who would have recoiled at the sight of viscera staining her laces, bone crunching under the soles of her feet.

But it's gone. All she feels is annoyance. Disgust.

They rendered it out of her. All of them pulling and tugging until bits of herself ripped apart, left behind in their regions, in their hands. Faith holds her belief. John, her compassion. Joseph, her fear. And Jacob—

Well.

She tries not to think about what she lost in his cages. The gaping hole where her humanity once sat is heavier now that it's empty.

It doesn't matter. Not anymore.

Everything has been culminating to this point. To this moment. She feels the weight of it, the truth, in her bones. Unlike John, unlike Faith, only one of them will walk away from this still breathing. Her fingers tense. A proxysm.

She finds, as the sky fades back to an endless blue and the mournful call of a loon breaks through the coppice, that she isn't entirely sure she wants it to be her.

"Everything, all of it, has been leading up to this moment," he calls down to her, answering the unspoken assertions that bounce around the bruised fibres of her head. Hunt. Kill. Sacrifice. She gets it. She hates that she does. Hates him, she thinks, even more for making her see, for turning her into his executioner so easily. "So, Deputy, what will you do?"

If it were Faith, there'd be something about the path. About choices. About submission and surrender. Giving up agency and self in the single-minded pursuit of devotion to the Father. John, maybe a taunt. A sotto voce about atonement and true self. Of life admit the torture. A baptism in pain.

But Jacob is neither of them.

"Are you gonna kill me, angel?"

She thinks about it. Really does. Lets it grind down into her synapses as she imagines a world without him. A place in Hope County where they celebrate his death and burn his body on an altar, unwilling to let the cult take him back until he's charred bones and ashes. Sure, then, that he's gone. Forever. Always. No more.

Jacob will burn.

She thinks about it, and she shudders.

It feels anticlimactic despite the effort he put into setting it all up. Moving beacons and men and cages and wolves. Tracking her down through the forest until she led them to the Wolf's Den, and put a bullet in the head of the only man who made her feel some sense of footing amid a crumbling world. A place that wasn't quite home but it was something. Purpose, maybe.

It stands in sharp contrast to the dogfight between them. Jacob and his soldiers. A commander playing a game of war from the comfort of his sanctuary. They're gone, now, and she hates that she isn't, too. That no matter what she does, how open she leaves herself, he still lets her sneak up the side of his perch until she's crouched behind a log, until she can hear the weight of his footfalls as he searches for her across the blood smeared landscape.

It's a fallacy. He knows where she is despite the engineered confusion in his tone. What was that? He asks. Come out and fight me, Deputy. You know I'll find you—

The red dot follows her, always just a few inches from where she's hiding. A farce. She hates it. Hates that he isn't really fighting her. A marksman, he said (hoorah), but the only bruises he gave her are in her mind. Mental scars. Stupid. She hates him. Despises him.

(Hates herself even more.)

It feels like muscle memory when she peers over the ledge, her bloodied knuckles leaving smears of her fingerprints behind. He's there. Waiting.

Killing Eli, killing phantoms. Killing men. Killing him. It all congeals in her marrow. Effortless. Easy. She's killed him so many times already that she's sure, now, she could close her eyes and find her mark.

Over and over again, he turned to a nebula of dust when she jumped on his back, wrapping nimble fingers around his neck. Mocking words haunting her as he dissolved into the aether. The Father will protect me. You need me. Don't fight it. Just let go. You've served your purpose. Let's say you get out of this. What's next? You go back to running errands for a teenager and a housewife? You are nothin' without Eli.

"Come out, come out wherever you are, honey," his crooning taunt makes her hackles raise. A part of her hindbrain prickles with unease. Jacob brings a certain terror out of those dormant depths—an atavistic fear coils around her jugular. "Let's finish this."

She wants to end him. To kill and maim and bend and break until nothing is left but bones and tissue. She wants to ruin him. Wants him to ruin her. To end this conflict at the top of a precipice she never wanted to climb.

She says nothing—not to him, to them—but scuffs her feet against the gravel for no reason other than to make him look. He whips around, hand steady on his rifle.

"Finally done hiding, Deputy?"

The red dot hasn't left her vicinity since she prowled after him, unleashing hell and gunfire on the men—his Chosen, his best—that tried to keep her away from him. Hiding, she thinks, and wonders if those words are a projection.

The Whitetailer—the only anchor she's had since she found it laying behind in an abandoned cabin—hums under her fingers. Pulses with the blood rushing through her veins. It's always been heavy. An SA50 isn't easy to carry across a landscape she mostly ventured on foot (as the near constant ache between her shoulders can attest to), but it feels both heavier and lighter than before. Another contradiction of many since she walked out of the Den and into a world on fire. Since she slit his throat and watched him turn into cosmic dust.

It's steady, though. Unwavering. There's a gash on her arm from one of his Chosen. A bullet in her thigh. The unhealed wounds—bliss bullets and arrows—twinge with pain when she tenses her muscles, breathes in deep. Her broken ribs scream. She feels like more like a throbbing contusion than she does an actual person, still caught in the tendrils of her conditioning where his voice echoes in her head, the last notes of a song that turned her world into ashes. Only youuu… he'd crooned.

Only you.

Only ever you.

She gets it now.

Or, she wishes that were true. It isn't. It isn't because maybe she's known all along. Since the bunker. Since Pratt. One, two, three. One, two, three. And then he's got you. Since she blinked into cognisance surrounded by the fallen bodies of the militia who didn't survive the training, who had bullet wounds that matched the shots she took in Jacob's trial.

Since she went back to the Grand View and walked through the rows of cages in the parking lot.

She gets it.

She knows what she has to do.

Her grip doesn't falter when she aims up. Up. His stomach. His lungs. His heart.

"You can't. You're done. You've served your purpose, and now it's time to accept your place, Deputy. Where you belong."

She thinks of Tammy. Of Wheaty. There's nothing left for her. Not anymore.

Nothing except—

She wonders if there's a flash of panic in his cerulean eyes. A brief flicker of fear. But all she sees is contempt.

"If I die, you'll be lost forever—"

She pulls the trigger.

#its long #i couldn't help myself #jacob seed x deputy #wips #thank you so much for this but also im so sorry???#i feel like i threw an essay at you and said “EAT UP!!!!”

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 2 years

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Thanks for the tag @adelaidedrubman <3

tagging: @natesofrellis @direwombat @harmonyowl @confidentandgood @funkypoacher @marivenah @roofgeese @clonesupport @strangefable @clicheantagonist @aceghosts @lethal-justice @captastra @galaxycunt @sstewyhosseini @thomrainer (no pressure of course) and anyone else who'd like to tag me

I've been struggling to write much of anything lately so these are very likely to get scrapped in the end, but what the hell.

I've been working on writing Kit's main timeline out in full rather than just shorts because it was feeling disjointed to me. So here we are right from the very opening in the helicopter:

Helicopter blades sliced through the air and her headphones crackled with static. Her seat vibrated into her very bones, turbulence causing the whole craft to shake from time to time. Amidst the roaring din, Kit focused on her breathing, of the slow, methodical in and out, and the rise and fall of her chest. She was referred to as a rookie, but this wasn’t the first time she was expected to land in the middle of the shit, this was a friendly return to form for her, as if eight years hadn’t dragged by since she came back home from Kandahar.

As part of the Hope County Sheriff’s Department she was expected to perform her duty as part of the federal takedown of one of the most powerful cult leaders America had seen since Waco. She’d personally seen the footage of him crush a man’s eyes from his very skull all while touting that he was a religious man who heard the voice of God. It only sunk in just how deep they were as they flew to the compound, into the heart of the cult’s territory. They were utterly alone out here, a few against the many. Legion. She grabbed at the cross pendant on her necklace, running it back and forth against the chain, the quiet buzz she normally found relaxed her was swallowed by the sounds of the helicopter.

Burke, the US Marshal who had dragged them into this, sat across from her. His face was gruff but there was an undeserved smugness to it, like he somehow thought these were all the numbers he'd need to take on an army of half-crazed believers who'd put their faith and their lives in the hands of a man and his siblings. But she knew better. 9mm handguns wouldn’t be enough to quash the hordes. It was like snapping elastic bands at a dragon, all they’d end up doing was pissing them off. But it wasn’t her place to argue or complain, she was given her orders and she’d see them through, for better or for worse.

The mood in the copter was tense, she hadn't felt this sort of tightness in her chest since she'd gone to war twelve years ago. Flying over the grounds that led to Joseph's compound was eye-opening for Kit. She'd never flown over them before. She'd driven the roads, travelled all the way up into the Whitetails and down to the Henbane, but the Valley was where she spent most of her time and being up above it all suddenly made the life she had seem very small, sheltered even.

The massive statue of Joseph put her at unease. Religion had always made people do stupid things. To act out in ways where there was a for and an against and there was always bloodshed. It begged for war. She'd seen it herself, been wrapped up in the middle of it and now here she was facing that same type of enemy again. Someone who thought they knew what an unknowable God could possibly want, someone who claimed to be His messenger. A shiver coursed down her spine, it seemed to be a shared feeling as the other Deputies and Whitehorse all became more skittish at the sight of the Peggie idol.

At the compound, smoke rose up into the air. The already dying light of dusk greyed out even further by the fires scattered as their source of light below. Rows of white houses and sheds surrounded the old weather worn church. It looked like a ghost town from up above, no power, paint peeling from the wood walls, seemingly abandoned. But knowing this was where the Father presided meant all of its appearances were a lie. This was a viper’s nest and they were about to walk right in.

and a little bit from a smut prompt I'm working through too (it's not very spicy yet, fyi):

Prompt: I told you to stay still

The cold metal of the cage bars burned into her flesh as he pushed her back against them, his thigh pressed between her legs spreading them open. A sharp hiss pulled through her gritted teeth.

One hand held on her jaw, the other pinning her wrists above her head. She was immobilized in her cage once more by the Herald of the Whitetails.

He loomed over her, head and shoulders above. His mass blanketed her in shadow, even the flames of the fires along the perimeter couldn't find her.

"Now Deputy, I told ya to stay still. You have no one to blame this on but yourself."

His thumb stroked her full lower lip, fingers brushing through the waves of auburn that framed her face. She stared up at him through her lashes, her heat already pooling between her thighs.

"I thought you liked it when I put up a fight - Sir."

His brow furrowed, his normally stoic exterior breaking for just a moment. His scowl morphing into a smirk.

#wip whenever #tagged #fan fiction #far cry 5 #kit cross x jacob seed #oc: kit cross

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kopathefox · 5 months

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An early access

Characters are:

Soka (the canadian lynx/the brownish lynx)

ThornEar (the lemur with the scars, thorn ear, yellowish collar, red pants, purple shirt)

Eldro (the grey wolf with green shirt, blue pants & red scarf)

Axela (the blue axolotl with orange rubber collar, green pants & red shirt)

Ferreto (the white ferret with green collar, blue shirt & pants and boots)

Lemuraros (the lemur with thorn ear, thorn tail, colorful clothes, scars and feathers necklace)

Also the commander of the lynxes of the Mifkada was the one to say the “Dude! You are NOT the ONLY one!”

Explain time:

So this is the backstory of Soka and ThornEar, the new recruits of team Power seekers, Soka was a normal lynx kitten who lived a peaceful life until a group of evil humans came and killed his family, he was the only survivor, but he also got injured (which happens to be his scars), when he heard about the Mifkada and their purposes (to help everyone that needs help and to save the planet from humanity), he wanted to join in hope he will be able to save other people from things like what happened to his family, he did join but it was like T-eyes story (T-Eyes is the black cat featured in the “End is near” video), T-Eyes’s family also got killed the same way, except that he was already in the Mifkada (in his mother’s team, “the knifers”), he also wanted to help but never actually got to do a mission, which felt for him like everyone hates him, so same on Soka, but unlike T-Eyes who stayed in the Mifkada and ended up joining Kopa’s team, Soka quitted the Mifkada (and Lonxo, the Lynxes’s commander, didn’t understood a shit about why he’s suddenly raging at him in his office and wanting to leave) and joined the Power Seekers, but ThornEar was his friend from before, now ThornEar’s backstory, ThornEar was from a different culture called “Grad” who believes in Gradosos (a god which is a blue dragon, blue dragon is a irl creature, a slug, a toxic slug), their culture is more primitive and more wild, and it’s divided to clans, but there is one person who rules all clans, which is Lemuraros, Lemuraros is also Sharp’s father (Sharp is another Lemur character which is in Kopa’s team/team chosens, he just rathers being in the Phillys), there was a rule where you can’t be in a romantic relationship with a person of different species than yours who’s older than you in 3 years, and ThornEar (once named Gleaming) was in romantic relationship with a tiger older than him by 4 years, Lemuraros killed the tiger and injured ThornEar (which happens to be his scars and Thorn ear), but he managed to escape to Earth, where he met Soka in a random encounter, then they became best friends ever, and when they joined the Power Seekers he changed his name to ThornEar

Also, Soka is also from another culture called “Sokala”, the god there is an hybrid between an Hyena and a Lemur, this is Snape’s origin culture (Snape is a 4 meters long green snake with a black diamond on his forehead)

Whitetail (the yellow bird with a white tail who’s been featured in “ריקוד ציפורים/birds dance”) is from a culture called “Squiberia”, where they believe in a god called Cypress, who’s a god that wants to help the people of the dimension more than the gods were allowed to, so he was banished to a dimension where gods who goes against the gods’s laws go to as a prison, but then he managed to regain his powers and make it his dimension and aslo make a culture on earth, in the warriors world (a world where theres no technology and the animals there are warriors that fight with magic, elements, physical fighting, weapons like bows, axes swords, ect, and all that) there is a small cave with a statue of Cypress, his name is not mentioned and no info about his exile is mentioned, but it does describes his appearance, the Squiberians claim the other gods to be “gods that doesn’t care about their own people” while they describe Cypress as “the true best god” as he does helps anyone who has no other chances for help or people that had enough (like for example, if a wolf pup born with a mutation that will cause it to die young, then he will grant it a normal life expectancy (means they will live just as long as normal wolves) or at some rare times, Immortality

#animation #furry #fantasy #my writing #ocs #furry oc #lynx #lemur #wolf #axolotl #ferret

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musings-of-a-lovesick-fool · 2 years

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Yay! There’s hardly any for him 😅

Could you write an Eli Palmer x GN!reader (pre relationship) where the reader gets hurt and Eli is worried and patches them up? (And possibly confessions? Up to you

I went with a more low stakes kind of vibe for this one, Eli really activates the mushy fluff side of my brain. Had tons of fun writing this so I hope you enjoy it!

Warning(s): Canon-typical violence, animal attack, animal death

Words: 4, 081

"Where it began, I can't begin to know.

But then I know it's growing strong,

Was in the spring,

And spring became the summer.

Who'd have believed you'd come along."

You grunt, your foot slipping thanks to loose rocks and chest slamming into the side of the mountains as you try to regain your footing. The sun beats down on your back, your gloved hands digging into the uncomfortably warm stone as you drag yourself back up and dig your foot into a new hold.

"You alright down there deputy?"

Eli calls down and you look up to see him watching you over his shoulder, confident enough to lean away from the mountain face and check on the rope securing you two together. You weren't a fan of heights and you definitely were not a fan of grappling up the side of a mountain; yet here you were. All because you couldn't say no to Eli and his stupid pretty blue eyes.

"I'm fine, keep movin'!" You shoot back, ready to be in that cave you were both heading too already. Apparently a member of the Whitetails had left something in a prepper stash, something Eli needed for one of their rescue missions. You had been surprised when he said he was going to join you when you went to retrieve it, he normally stayed in the Wolf's Den to keep an eye on everything after all and it's not like you hadn't done something like this for him before.

You'd been spending more time with the militia leader and you'd grown pretty fond of him; he'd grown pretty fond of you too. You had a hard time shaking the thought it was just because you were an important asset though, you accomplished what a lot of his people couldn't; you were a one person army like so many people liked to say. That's not how you'd describe yourself but you didn't care enough to fight it, whatever people wanted to believe was their own business. Even if the pedestal you were being held on felt more like a prison most days; Eli made it easier to deal with.

You climb up to a ledge, Eli holding his hand out to you and pulling you up. Your boot meets the flat ground and your chest knocks into Eli's, grabbing onto his shoulder as you steady yourself. You both lock eyes for a moment before turning away and clearing your throats, you adjust the hat on your head as you lean back; patting his shoulder in a silent thanks as he steps back.

"It's not much further up," He says, walking to the right and throwing the grapple up into the air. You watch it catch and go taught as Eli tugs on it experimentally. You keep your eyes glued to the wall and walk up, letting Eli climb up first.

You'd set up a sort of base camp at the Wolf's Den since meeting Eli, beforehand you'd scurry back to Dutch's bunker when you needed to let the fires you'd set die out or somewhere to rest while a particularly bad injury healed. But now you'd go to Eli, drag yourself battered and bruised to the opening of the Wolf's Den and without fail he'd be there. Arms open and ready to catch you and pull you inside; he was definitely more attentive than Dutch that was for damn sure.

You'd even just spend time there for the sole reason of talking to Eli, learning more about him, telling him about yourself; the sort of getting to know each other chats that were found few and far between in a cult takeover. It was nice to have a sliver of normalcy in this crazy situation you had all been thrown in. It was nice having Eli.

Eli pulls you up into the mouth of the cave and you avoid crashing into him this time, hand on his chest as you right yourself. You look over his shoulder and peer into the cave, you could see him watching you in your peripheral vision but once you look at him his eyes flutter away and he turns to also examine the dark cave.

"Should be up ahead, Wheaty drew up a map," He mutters, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and opening it to reveal a crudely drawn map of the cave. You snort gently and Eli smiles, shaking his head as he runs his finger along the highlighted path on the map. He motions for you to follow him with a nod of his head and you do, staying hot on his heels and withdrawing your .44 magnum from its holster; readying yourself for any unwanted company.

There weren't many people in the County you considered friends let alone a close friend, especially not since the reaping. You couldn't remember a time you'd been this paranoid. But with Eli you weren't worried, you never questioned if he'd have a dagger at your back once you turned around. Despite your paths crossing under less than happy circumstances you were glad you'd met him and you were proud to call him a friend. Even if, really, he was much more than that to you.

Eli holds up a hand and you pause, he ducks down low and you follow suit, aiming your gun up ahead and catching sight of what he was looking at. A cougar was happily ripping into a corpse of what looked like an angel, you wince at the sound of skin tearing and the sight of fresh blood coating the cougar's fur. Eli makes a gesture for you to take it out and you line up your shot, holding your breath as you pull the trigger.

The shot rings through the air and is quickly followed by the pained howl from the animal, your heart twists but you shake off the remorse as it violently throws itself back scratches at its head. You follow it with your magnum, walking past Eli as you take two more shots at it. There was bliss in the cave, you could smell it; see it floating through the air in a fine mist. You were sure chowing down on angel's also had some side effects as the cougar bares its bloodied teeth at you and screeches at you viciously.

It jumps forward much faster than a wounded animal should be able to and if it weren't for a hand on your shoulder pulling you to the side you were sure it would have taken your face with it. You grunt as you land on your side, eli half on top of you as his head whips around to watch the cougar collide with the rocky wall. He's quick to grab your gun and land the killshot, the cougar falling limp only a foot away from you.

Eli lets out the breath he was holding and hangs his head, chest heaving as he shakes his head. You can't help but laugh lightly, letting your head fall back as your heartbeat rings in your eardrums. Eli joins your gentle laughter but his quickly dies as you reach your hand up grab your hat; he grabs hold of your forearm and you shoot him a confused look.

You twist your arm and lift your head, cursing as you catch sight of blood trickling down from a fairly large gash.

"Fuck," you huff in annoyance, the adrenaline coursing through you kept you from feeling it but from the look of it you knew you were really going to be feeling it soon.

"Good news is it doesn't look like it'll need stitches, bad news is you're probably gonna have a tough time climbing back down the mountain," Eli says, eyebrows knit together in concern as he examines the wound. You scoff and he shoots you a sympathetic smile, grabbing into your other arm and helping you back onto your feet.

"There should be a medkit in the stash, i'll wrap that up before we get going," Eli keeps his hand on your arm as you walk forward and you refrain from commenting on it. Your legs were fine but having Eli's hand on you was never something you'd complain about. You could see in the way he kept glancing down at your arm and his more hurried steps that he was worried, not that this was the worst injury you'd ever had. You appreciated the concern.

It was funny, you muse, remembering the last time you showed up the Wolf's Den battered and bruised after a particularly bad run in with Jacob's chosen. Wheaty had made a point to tell you how freaked out Eli had been, despite how he kept it cool in front of you as soon as you were out of earshot it was as if Eli became a headless chicken running around. Apparently; that was how Wheaty described it. You wondered if he was freaking out now, guiding you through the dark with a gentle hand holding onto you.

It was always endearing to you how caring he managed to be, one would think after everything he'd been through he'd be bitter and distrustful. He had every right to be. But no, not your Eli. He was kind and welcomed everyone with open arms; even if that meant he was exposed to danger, he took that risk. You admired that about him and wondered if your jaded soul could be more like his one day, when all of this was over and you didn't have to worry about being gunned down at every turn.

"Here we go, atta boy Wheaty," Eli mutters under his breath as the stash comes into view and you can't help but smile at the pride in his voice. You seconded that praise and made a mental note to scout out another record for Wheaty soon, he deserved it after all the hard work he'd been doing.

The stash isn't big and looks like a makeshift camp; you run your eyes over the sleeping bag, small fire and crates arranged haphazardly alongside a duffel bag tucked away in the far back of the cave unimpressed. Your arm stings a small bit and you drag a deep breath in through your nose, lifting your arm to inspect it again. It was still bleeding and Eli hovers over you to look at it again, his worry more clear in his face as an unsettled hum rumbles in his chest.

Eli jogs over the stash and leans over the crates, leaning down before coming back up and holding up a medkit with a smile on his face and you bow your head with a small smile of your own.

"My hero," You murmur, walking over and sitting on one of the crates as Eli flips open the medkit. He's gentle as he takes your arm in his hands, apologising as he pours the disinfectant over your arm. Pain shoots through your nerves and you hiss through your clenched teeth, ducking your head down and digging your nails into the wooden crate.

He wipes the blood away with a rag and starts wrapping the bandages around your arm. He's efficient yet tender, being careful not to pull the bandages too tight. He ties it off and you glance down at it, blood was already seeping through the white material but that was to be expected.

"I'll take another look at it when we get back to the Wolf's Den, clean it up properly,"

"You don't have too,"

"I want to—can't have it getting infected," He says firmly and by the way his blue eyes stare into yours you know there's no making him budge. You smile warmly up at him and shrug your shoulders in surrender.

"You're the boss," You tease, watching as Eli's stern expression melts away into something more bashful. He ducks his head, a sigh escaping him as he heaves himself up.

"And you're gonna be the death of me," He chuckles, walking over to the duffel bag and kneeling down to unzip it. You watch his back with a mirthful grin, running your hand over the bandage on your arm and pushing yourself up. You walk over to him and look over his shoulder into the bag, watching as he pulls out a small black book. Eli opens it and flicks through the pages, lists of names, routes and times were jotted down and you furrow your brows as you try to make sense of it.

"That what we came here for?" You ask, stepping back as Eli stands and turns to you.

"Yep, we've been staking this place out for months now but haven't got a clue what's going on inside; this tells us exactly how many peggies are gonna be in there waiting for us," Eli says, waving the book between you both triumphantly. You nod, eyeing it curiously.

"How'd your guy get it though? You sure it's legit and not a set up?" You question and Eli shakes his head, waving his other hand in the air as if to swat away the idea.

"I'm sure—He nearly lost his head getting this from one of Jacob's chosen; barely made it out, had teams coming after him for miles before we swept in and got him back to the Wolf's Den," Eli explains, tone confident as he stuffs the book away in his pocket. If Eli was sure then you had no reason not to believe him so you let it go.

"Let's head back, Tammy will be happy we found this,"

"Bet she will,"

Eli was right about getting down the mountain, being one arm down made it incredibly difficult. Somehow having Eli pressed against you as he helped you down the whole way made it twice as difficult. It was embarrassing how flustered you felt, having his arms on either side of you and his chest pressed into your back as he guided you down the rock face. Even just thinking about it had your heart in your throat and you cursed the organ for acting against your will.

Even now as you trekked through the woods, hot on Eli's trail, your skin is a few degrees warmer than normal and the ringling of your skin where he brushed against you is almost enough to distract from the throbbing pain in your forearm. The tips of Eli's ears are bright red and you were sure if you caught a glimpse of his face it would be similar, you wanted to laugh about it. You were two grown adults unable to handle a bit of contact.

If it had been anyone else you would have been fine, you knew that it was just because it was the dear militia leader that you were feeling hot under the collar about it. And you had a nagging suspicion it would have been the same for Eli but you tried not to dwell on that thought for too long; lest you start feeling bold the next time he's that close to you.

You'd made a point to remind yourself Eli was your friend and pseudo-coworker first and foremost and anything else couldn't really be possible while this doomsday cult was running amok. But of course you'd played with the idea of where it could go after they were dealt with, perhaps a bit too often…

Eli paused and turned to look at you and you realised you'd made it to the Wolf's Den, he holds an arm out, motioning for you to go in ahead of him. You can't help but smile as you pass him.

He was red as a cherry.

You duck your head and brace yourself on the wall, carefully making your way down the stairs and into the place you'd made your temporary home. Your boots slap against the concrete floor and you walk past the stocked shelves with Eli right behind you, your eyes trained on the flag hung up on the wall ahead of you. You turn left, nodding to Tammy as you enter what you had dubbed the surveillance room. She offers you a tight smile, it's polite but there's no warmth to it.

She was still hesitant about you being there, especially after your second unwilling visit to the veteran's centre. You turn on your heel and make your way over to Wheaty, whose eyes lit up the moment he saw you.

"Hey dep—woah, what happened to your arm?" He cuts his own greeting off as he spots your bandaged arm, leaning over the table to get a better look at it.

"Cougar," You lift of your arm, twisting it around and grimacing. The pain had definitely set in now and you were sure sleeping was gonna be less than fun.

"Damn deputy, you must be like catnip with the amount of those things that go after you," Wheaty grins playfully at you and you roll your eyes.

"What can I say Wheaty, i'm irrisistable to cats and men who don't bathe,"

Wheaty snorts, giggling as you walk past and head right. You can hear Tammy and Eli talking about the book as you leave the room, the zealous tone in Tammy's voice proving Eli was right about her being happy to finally have it in their hands. You walk to the end of the hall and head into the makeshift living area, you swivel and fall back onto the couch with a small sigh and close your eyes, cradling your injured arm over your stomach.

You can hear Tammy raising her voice and Eli's more muffled words following after, you assumed Tammy was pushing to go in as soon as possible and knowing Eli he probably wanted to wait a bit longer. You weren't one to meddle so you stayed put, pulling your hat over your eyes and getting comfy. After a few moments you feel yourself dozing off a small bit, the hum of the music Wheaty was playing and the sound of muffled voices almost fully lulling you to sleep.

You hear footsteps come up the hall and pause at the doorway, you can't be bothered to look up and see who it is. You hear a gentle sigh and those footsteps walk past the couch, you hear some shuffling by the bunk bed in the corner before those footsteps coke back around to your side. Eli calls out your name in a hushed tone and you feel a warmth bloom in your chest, it was very few and far between you got to hear anyone say your name; especially with the amount of care he said it with.

You push your hat up with your thumb and squint up at him. His form is blocking the light hanging from the ceiling and he offers a gentle smile as you meet his eyes.

"Can I take a look?" He asks, pointing to your arm and you take note that in his other hand is a much heftier medkit. You can't help but smile and push yourself up, giving Eli room to sit as you obediently hold your arm out to him. He takes a seat and starts unwrapping the bandage, it hurts like hell and you bite down on your tongue as it clings to the wound. He winces himself, mutters an apology under his breath and tosses the bloodied bandage to the side.

"The bleeding stopped, that's good," He notes, more to himself as he gently turns your arm in his hands. You spared a glance at the gash and turned your eyes away at the sight of congealed blood, it was a good sign but damn was it gross to look at. Eli unlatches the medkit and gets out a heftier disinfectant, this time pouring it onto a clean rag instead of straight onto the wound.

He dabs away at the gash gently, it stings but it's nothing you can't handle. You watch his face, eyes trained on your wound as he gently cleans it up. You can't count the amount of times you'd been on this couch with him now, how many times he'd taken care of you like this.

"Thanks for coming with me, sorry you got hurt because of it," Eli cuts into your train of thought, glancing up at you and ducking his head back down as he realised you were watching him intently. You smile gently, resting your head against the back of the couch.

"Oh so I went with you? Thought it was the other way around," You joke lightly, Eli chuckling as you knock your knee against his gently.

"This is nothing and could have been worse if you weren't there so don't worry about it," You say dismissively, waving your free hand as Eli grabs a new bandage and starts wrapping it around your forearm.

"Can't help it, I always worry about you," Eli's voice is dripping with honesty and you watch as his eyes flick up at you and back down to your arm. You feel your own breath catch in your throat at the words, so innocent yet drenched in a double meaning you were hoping you weren't making up in your head. Eli was good at a lot of things, being direct with feelings seemed to be an entirely different ballpark and you weren't guilt free either; if you had the balls you would have told Eli how you felt the second you caught wind of your feelings for him.

But you two had been dancing around it and each other for months now, at least it felt like it. Even back at the stash, when you were finally on solid ground again his hands had lingered on your waist and he'd looked like he wanted to say something. But he didn't and neither did you.

"... Is that so?" You ask hesitantly, watching him wrap the bandage much slower than he needed too.

"Fuck—You know dep… I keep telling myself it's not the right time but I don't think there's gonna be a right time, we could still be fighting the Seeds this time next year for all we know," Eli rants a small bit, unable to meet your eyes as he carefully tapes the badage down. Tossing the remaining bandage in the medkit as you stare at him, white noise in your ears as you try to process what he was really saying.

"What are you goin' on about Eli?" You breathe out, expression lost as he meets your eyes.

"I knew, from the second Wheaty and I found you, that you were gonna be important. That you were gonna change this whole game we've been stuck in—I didn't know you were gonna be important to me too, I don't know what I'd do if we lost you… If I lost you," He continues passionately, getting quieter as he gets lost in his own thoughts. You're a bit shocked but a spark of hope flutters around in your chest as you duck your head down, trying to get his eyes back on you.

"You're important to me too Eli and I don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon, made you a promise remember?" You attempt to reassure him, a gentle smile on your face as you place a hand over his.

"I remember… But that was before…" he trails off and shakes his head, "Taking Eden's Gate down is top priority that hasn't changed but I don't want to lose you in the process, if it ever gets too bad I want you to turn heel and come back to me," his words are firm and he takes hold of your hand in both of his. His eyes are desperate as he leans closer and a fleeting thought of meeting him in the middle and doing what you'd thought about far too often races across your jumbled mind.

"I always come back to you don't I?" You mutter, tearing your gaze away from those chapped lips and getting lost in those sky blue eyes.

"And i'll always be here waitin' for you,"

Your heart can barely take it as he reaches a hand up to hold the back of your neck, leaning forward to press a kiss to your temple as your eyes flutter closed. It was as close to an I love you as either of you could manage right now and honestly; it was more than enough for you.

#Far Cry 5 #eli palmer x reader #eli palmer x gender neutral!reader #Oneshot Tag #GN!Reader Tag #I hope you like the end as much as I do. saying I love you without saying it always makes me lose my mind so

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felidthing · 2 years

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from what i can remember, the big instances of this issue in warriors are:

dustpelt and ferncloud - quote from a video by moonkitti about ferncloud: "dustpelt takes an interest in fernpaw almost directly after she's apprenticed, and while it's a plot point that she was apprenticed a bit late, it's creepy." i feel like that's worded better than i could have done it. being apprenticed "a bit late" doesn't mean she wasn't a child by the way, she very much was still young. there's a lot of back and forth over how "animalistic" the early series is/was intended to be, but by now the series has solidified the cats as very humanized, with human morals and relationships. apprentices in warriors are Teenagers. young teens, think 13-14. the average warrior is treated as an adult when they finish their training. for a warrior, even a newly appointed one, to openly show interest in a cat that's the equivalent of a middleschooler or young highschooler, that's uh. really uncomfortable. also none of the other characters find dustpelt's behavior weird or wrong, and he and ferncloud go on to have multiple litters of kits.

spottedleaf and thistleclaw - the infamous "spottedleaf's heart" novella introduced this one. the book begins with spottedleaf and her siblings as kits, with thistleclaw as an already full grown warrior stopping by the nursery often to play with kits and give them gifts. he takes particular interest in spottedkit, and as an apprentice they become extremely close. spottedpaw wants to become a warrior so that they can be mates. through the entire book thistleclaw is a textbook predator: he's manipulative and always trying to keep spottedpaw under his control with compliments and guilt tripping. he convinces her to go places with him in secret at night. the actual conflict presented in the book is that thistleclaw is bad because he wants spottedpaw to train in the dark forest with him- not that he's gotten her into a relationship with him. it goes so far as to have goosefeather tell spottedpaw that she "loves foolishly," like it's her fault that these things are happening. spottedpaw ends up switching to train as a medicine apprentice so that the rule against healers having mates will keep her safe from thistleclaw. i think this is by far the worst book in the entire series just from how horribly realistic and upsetting its portrayal of an abusive predatory relationship is, and the fact that the relationship isnt what the reader is supposed to dislike. the relationship isnt presented as bad because of who's involved in it, its supposed to be bad because thistleclaw was working with Evil Cats. genuinely scary and awful book.

and now, onestar and whitetail. i have not read anything on this book other than the post that has one paragraph from it. but in that paragraph, onewhisker thinks about how the cat he mentored is so pretty and how she's an adult now. this is another really scary thing to see in a book meant for kids. when i started reading warriors as a kid it was labelled as a "sixth grade" level series, so 11 and 12 years old. i fear for the kids reading stuff like this, especially because a lot of kids start reading warriors even before 11. i was eight.

warriors should not be presenting these things as normal and okay. they should not be saying its okay for your teachers to pursue you once youre not a child. that the adults in your life should ever be expressing interest in you. these are repeated offenses. there are quite a few other relationships that have weird age gaps, but a lot of them are the result of writers not doing research before pairing cats up, which is a different issue. these are purposeful choices made by what i assume are multiple people, with none of them seeing a problem writing these plots.

#posts #warrior cats

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kimberly40 · 1 year

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🦌 The Rare But Striking Piebald Deer: If you live in an area overrun by a growing deer population, the standard brown, white-tailed variety are a dime a dozen. But a piebald deer, with its distinguishable white markings, stands out like a unicorn, rare and beautiful. The piebald coloring is due to a genetic abnormality that leads to a lack of pigmentation in patches around the body.

Piebaldism is a recessive trait; both parents must carry the recessive gene for there to be a chance that they will produce a piebald fawn. It makes this condition extremely rare, affecting less than 2% of the white-tailed deer population.

Contrary to popular belief, a piebald deer is not a cross between a normal whitetail deer and an albino. The origin of the word "piebald" comes from "pie" meaning "mixed up", and "bald" meaning "having a white spot".

Piebald deer also tend to have skeletal or internal deformities, including a bowed snout or curved spine.

The same gene that codes for the coat color associated with piebaldism also codes for skeletal and organ features. The abnormalities associated with the trait can range from indiscernible to extreme, so while some animals only have a few white hairs and no noticeable skeletal deformities, others may be completely white or have such severe spine issues that the the fawns can't survive long after birth.

A piebald deer's lifespan depends on the extent of its visible traits.

*This picture is of a piebald deer in North Carolina a few years ago.

(Read more at https://abc11.com/amp/piebald-deer-viral-photo-white-north-carolina-cary/5822396/)

#appalachian mountains #appalachian #appalachian culture #north carolina

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adelaidedrubman · 3 years

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I was thinking about your tags in that post about why there are flowers on the bodies in John’s and Faith’s regions (at least I think there in the Henbane). I wonder if it’s connected to like, their overall messages? Like they all seem to be meant as warnings but the ones in John’s and Faith’s regions usually have writing that says like “we love you” or “say yes” “welcome to Eden’s Gate” etc where Jacob’s are just straight up “sacrifice the weak.” Idk I’m just musing.

Oooh yeah I really like the theory that it's because the bodies in Jacob's region are supposed to have a slightly different message than the ones in John and Faith’s. Because I was thinking how it's sorta symbolic of the fact John and Faith's roles are both much more focused on presenting a pleasant outward image to lure people in compared to Jacob. I've also noticed in Jacob's region like not only do the bodies not have flowers, they have flies buzzing around them, so maybe the flowers are to cover the stench? And the presence or absence of them could be symbolic of the fact that John and Faith are literally "covering up" the gruesome aspects of Eden’s Gate, whereas Jacob is really not trying to hide the cruelty at all. (In a way, Jacob is the most honest of all the heralds, probably all the Seeds period imo.)

And I totally hadn't connected it how the bodies read different with the different herald's slogans. Like you said, they're all warnings. But in John and Faith's regions maybe they're also recruitment tactics. Which is consistent with John and Faith's roles compared to Jacob. Like Jacob honestly doesn't do any recruitment compared to them, he has that one "Only You" Uncle Sam style poster but that's all I can think of that’s directed at drawing people in. None of the general recruiting stuff has his slogans. Like in the Eden’s Gate Outreach Center in the Henbane, which is supposed to be their propaganda center, you can find stuff with both John and Faith’s slogans.

But I’ve searched around and never found anything with any of Jacob’s.

Anyways the only other explanation I can think of for the fact that Jacob doesn’t have flowers is maybe they just grow less in his region? Because there is also a note you can find at the Eden’s Gate Greenhouse in the Holland Valley (which is just off the road leading to John’s ranch and filled with bliss flowers) that mentions expanding the bliss fields to the valley.

Which is kinda interesting in its own right considering John is the only person who mentions having any moral objection to the bliss, and Jacob uses it way more than John does. (And still, it’s not that big a county, I’m sure he could go pick a couple bouquets if he really wanted to.)

Also sorry to keep rambling and go completely off topic but another detail I’ve noticed with the bodies, which you can sorta see in the photoset I reblogged earlier, is that the bodies in Faith’s region tend to have more like, animal bones and antlers on them as well. Which is interesting because that’s kinda more John’s aesthetic, there are some bodies in the little arts and crafts area of his bunker decorated just like the ones you find around Faith’s region. Which makes me wonder if he’s decorating them for her? (Not to say Faith isn’t totally capable of mutilating a body.) But also the ones in John’s region feature the flowers slightly more in that they tend to be the ones with the bliss petals shoved in the abdominal cavity. So maybe they just got switched in the code lol? Who knows.

Finally I promise I’m a normal person and I don’t just go staring at the game’s mutilated corpses all the time for fun, I studied them a little to describe for a scene in my fic and they’re kinda a motif in it. In part to work as symbolism for the differences between the heralds so this has actually been really useful lol. Deputy Jestiny will also be observing the fact Jacob doesn’t use flowers when first entering the Whitetails and cracking a joke along the lines of, “Huh. Guess he lacks his siblings' ‘delicate touch’.”

#that is as the french say a double ender #sorry you activated my infodump mode lol #gore cw maybe?#idk #sorry for gross detail too

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bonefall · 2 years

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The family tree is coming along better than expected.

Question for the tree: how’s the Windclan family coming along?

Did you change any members of Tallstar’s family?

Well, to answer this question, I’ll show you the step I’m currently on with WindClan. I’ve drawn out the canonical family tree that I have to start with,

(This is why it takes me a while to pop out these family trees; this is actually an easier chart I’ve made. Top left corner is ‘orphan’ characters with no relevant parents or siblings.)

As you can see, WindClan is actually only two families, and a slew of completely unrelated male bachelors. It gets worse because Shellfur ended up stealing the ONLY unrelated bachelorette, Fernstripe, out of WindClan for himself.

Heathertail also decided to put herself with her first cousin once removed instead of literally anyone else in WindClan. I also normally wouldn’t care that Breezepelt is also her grand-uncle’s grandson (a second cousin is significantly distant) but with how closely related they were already, it’s insult to injury.

Not to mention how Onestar clearly knows about it in his SE. I was actually undecided on the severity of Rule 1′s Addendum until the EXACT moment I remembered Onestar thinking about how Heathertail was marrying his sister’s grandson. It made me so uncomfortable I'm using it as a nuke button.

So, anyway, I don’t have as many thoughts as my ThunderClan fix obviously, but here’s what I’m thinking for WindClan so far--

General changes;

Several bachelors are getting hit with the woman beam, but finalized changes won’t set in until I decide who I want as parents.

Tentatively, I’m thinking Slightfoot, Hootwhisker, and/or Weaselfur are going to be molly’d.

I may end up allowing Furzepelt a litter before her death in AVOS; or stop her death entirely

(it frustrates me when interesting background cats are killed for no reason)

I may kill Whiskernose instead of Sunstrike in the Great Battle, and allow her to be the disabled elder.

Tentatively considering Sunstrike and Furzepelt as WLW to raise kittens together.

Tornear will have a descendant; I don’t like that Shrewclaw’s line died out.

Webfoot will probably have a descendant as well, unsure who though.

In general more of the cats from Tallstar’s Revenge and post-SkyClan Exile WC warriors have kits instead of just Hickory/Meadow, Woolly/Pale, and Mist/Hare.

ALSO Larkwing’s kits currently have no father. As long as the Erins don’t do something remarkably stupid, I’ll go with whatever father they end up deciding on.

On the Hickory/Meadow and Stag/Wren Bloodlines;

Tallstar’s direct family (parents, siblings) are unchanged.

I’m not a fan of how Tallstar suddenly made his nephew his deputy. It adds an element to the WindClan Rebellion that feels wrong.

So, Onestar is being moved out of Stag/Wren’s litter. This fixes that, as well as Heather/Breeze being first cousins once removed.

Morningflower has no living children; Ashfoot’s only surviving child was Crowfeather.

Tentatively, Onestar is the son of Larksplash and Cloudrunner (father subject to change). He was unnamed at the time of his mother’s death and the only survivor of the litter, leading to the name Onekit.

Sorrelshine and Deadfoot’s descendants are far enough removed (and they were both dead long enough) that I won’t be changing their children or parents.

Heather/Breeze;

Breezepelt, my detested, is going to get massive changes in the bigger rewrite leaving his litters undecided for now.

I am not against deleting the four kits entirely if it means Breezepelt gets a more conclusive ending; him raising them is barely even relevant in the THREE. ARCS. since oots.

He didn’t even mourn Smokehaze what was the POINT? HMM??

Unsure if he will still end up with Heathertail; but he probably will after AVOS.

Possible scenario: Smokehaze and Brindlewing were in a second litter for Onestar and Whitetail, and Heathertail can have Apple and Wood with Breezepelt after he has an actual redemption arc in AVOS.

Other scenario: Smoke and Brindle have an unknown father or were sired by someone else to Heathertail alone, invoking the Queen’s Rights

If Scenario 1, would be cool if Darktail straightup killed Smokehaze, and Brindlewing dies in TBC...

On that note, again, these family trees are genetic trackers and don’t mention any of my other fixes, but it’s worth saying that Whitetail is no longer Onestar’s apprentice. HELL no.

‘Trying to preserve canon‘ applies as a rule to everything EXCEPT Onestar’s Confession I will drown this book in the lake with my bare hands

#WindClan #Warrior Cats Family Tree #Family tree #Bonefall Rewrite #Also don't worry about sending so many asks dude #Why would I be mad at getting questions about something I want to talk about?#As long as you don't mind it takes me a while to get to them #Your asks on River and Shadow may have to sit there for a couple days though #I haven't drawn their canon charts out yet which takes me an hour or two #And then these posts actually take me an appalling amount of time because I enter focus mode #I'm trying to get a post about kittypet culture out before I have to get some actual school work done #I just wanna talk about cats man

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unearthly-space · 3 years

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RDR2 - Monsters AU - Arthur Morgan basic Cryptid information

For those of you who don't know, Arthur's cryptid is based heavily around the Ceryneian Hind from Greek mythology.

Cryptid Appearance

A large whitetail buck, about the size of a fully grown grizzly bear and much larger than any normal-sized buck.

His antlers have the color and appearance of gold, but it’s unknown if they are truly gold as Arthur refuses to let anyone close enough to see, let alone touch them while in his Cryptid form.

His hooves also appear as brass, but it’s unknown if they truly are made of it.

Arthur has a light brown hide with what’s called a “dappled” sort of pattern along his back and hindquarters.

White trails down his throat and belly with some surrounding the areas around his eyes and nose, plus the underside of his fluffy tail.

Cryptid Abilities

Arthur can snort fire he is in a particular sort of mood (i.e. angry or annoyed). This is mainly seen as a Cryptid, though, and smoke will slip out of his nose as a human in lieu of fire.

Arthur is an incredibly swift-footed Cryptid, faster than most animals and hard to catch.

Character (AU) Trivia

Arthur has a faun-like half-form that he rarely uses.

In his “completely” human form, the Cryptid trait Arthur still possesses is his short (and adorably fluffy) buck tail.

Among bounty hunters, Arthur is known as the Beast with Golden Antlers and is sought after by big game hunters and bounty hunters alike.

As a young buck, Arthur liked to scare farmers by chasing them through their own fields.

If you happen to startle or surprise him (which is harder than you may think to accomplish), Arthur’s tail will wag slightly and shoot straight up.

Arthur relies quite heavily on his sense of smell over all other senses when he’s in his Cryptid form. Though he still has perfectly healthy hearing and vision.

Arthur is a very early riser, waking as early as a short time before dawn.

Despite Whitetail Deer being the smallest of North American deer, Arthur (a very large Cryptid) has the appearance of one.

Arthur sees better at night than he does during the day.

Arthur’s constantly teased and taunted by gang members when spring comes around as that’s usually around the time he “goes into rut”.

~~~~~~~

I may add a little more information in the future, but for now I'm just fleshing out the basic facts for various Van der Linde gang members. As always, asks are open and questions regarding the AU and possible future events and relationships are welcome.

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #arthur morgan #van der linde gang #monsters au #alternate universe #cryptids #red dead redemption au #alternate reality #monsters #mythology #creatures au

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cullxtheherd · 3 years

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B G S V for the dirty headcanons

amkldbcsjhdbf HIIII how are you kjsdnksf ??!? ?! i am sorry i held on to this for so long but tbh i kinda?? forgot i had it and, well 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒂 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊: 𝒕𝒊 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒐 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊?

𝔹 is for 𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽

(𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗋’𝗌)

to be honest with you i have always imagined jacob to be a man who is into thighs and buttcheeks- do you have an ass at the top of your legs like most other people? chances are he's looked whether you've noticed or not.

i don't think jacob seed is the type of man that actually likes much about himself- if anything! despite being incredibly cocksure and forward in the cutscenes we have with him where he is speaking i think he has an? unnatural and insane amount of confidence in his little operation in the valley of the whitetails but i do think that is fueled mainly by madness- determination to die and insanity are very powerful, potent motivators.

𝔾 is for 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓯𝔂

(𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗌, 𝖾𝗍��)

personally i feel like he's the type of creature that wants instant pleasure out of whatever he is doing that isn't work related- not including hunting (people or animal). i think? outside of the bedroom he's likely a cocky, humorous man; very sure of himself. he very likely has a way of delivering jokes that is always toeing the line of creepy, morbid, RUN SERIAL KILLER KSJDkjsDSFD SAVE URSELF. where john is able to mask and pass for normal sometimes jacob is most definitely NOT. he cray cray and he want u to know it, ma'am or sir or those like myself that are otherwise affiliated in or outside of gender roles.

but?? i really do think he is the type to be majority serious in the bedroom. he's covered in painful rashes and scars and it has to be? more than uncomfortable revealing the extent to another person on an intimate level. logically? there has to be moderate-severe discomfort and pain that comes with his condition(s) and someone who can not manage their pain or mental health on the best day?? control becomes everything in most situations, especially when you factor in ptsd/GAD/etc- some people are not this way, of course, but he seems like?? the type to need control over things in order to feel secure and i doubt this fluctuates often if at all. i'm sure after he has given someone the chance to get close enough to get comfortable with them? this could change from time to time and uhhHh u heard it here folks: jacob abraham seed the himbo switch from hell™

𝕊 is for 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓪

(𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗀𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗋, 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍…)

oof gosh i generally write jake as not lasting too long but, in my defense, he is nearing 50 and has GFS which can and does cause a host of sexual dysfunctions including mutations/etc during pregnancy. i also tend to pen him as not having been with someone intimately in a long time. depending on what verse i'm dicking around in it's been since his wife pased that anyone meaningful has come along but in the other more canon "accepted" verse where he was not married it's been at least a year since he's split with Tammy. in either of those two i do mention him having quick back-alley romps but let's be real that is not gonna up your stamina/sensitivity game like?? at all. but, either way, no need to fret, this boy's from Georgia and loves eating fuzzy, ripe, juicy peaches

𝕍 is for 𝓿𝓸𝓵𝓾𝓶𝓮

(𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾, 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾)

ajhbsjdjksjksfdkgfdfjslskldfd okay so. going off of the sex is not a thing that happens so often for this flambéed ginger motherfucker aaand keeping in mind that he's really just an incredibly fucked up southern boy at heart i think the noises he makes are in veryyy large contrast to his stature/image. he's big, tall, mean looking- he would eat you in a survival situation but? i feel like there's whimpering gasps and hitching breath- you ever heard or been with someone who?? sounds like?? they're? somewhere between pain and pleasure in an extreme way?? i'm preeeetty certain it's that just him desperately trying not to make a sound and failing

#jhfdbkjsdf hiii thank you for sending this in i really appreciate it kdsjfndkjfn

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 2 years

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Thanks for tagging me @natesofrellis @direwombat and @funkypoacher

Tagging: @lethal-justice @chadillacboseman @strangefable @perhapsrampancy @aceghosts @clicheantagonist @thomrainer @sstewyhosseini @glitter-and-gasoline and @lamorellenoire6 (because tbh many of my Staci ideas come from your incredible HCs for him)

So this is from the bit i’m working on for Chapter 2 (technically chapter 3 on AO3) of the werewolf AU. This is some self indulgent writing because all I wanted was to write date night for Kit and Staci lol

It’s a little long so I’ll put it under the cut:

The sun was slowly sinking behind the Whitetails, the sky painted in orange and dusky red and pink. Her shift was finally over, another day and still no closer to figuring out what really happened to the poor bastard who’d washed up at Adelaide’s. Kit headed across the parking lot towards her jeep parked in the far corner, army green and wheels caked in mud, with everything going on she'd been more interested in going outside and working off her anxious energy than about getting it clean.

She swung her keys around her finger, the jingling of metal on metal and the heavy ricochet off them of the old bullet casing she'd made into a key chain stopped her from hearing Staci’s rushed footsteps towards her. She was more interested in getting home, kicking off her boots and laying on the couch to chill out with some tunes and a beer.

When he caught up to her, his breathing was rapid. He'd been chasing her down for several minutes and unlike her he didn't keep up with running as a preferred mode of exercise.“You coming out for drinks with me,” he asked breathlessly. He tried to keep his speech steady, but it was clear he had just put on a sprint.

She caught her keys in her hand and looked at him with narrowed eyes. He was clearly interested in her if he was willing to ruin his hair by running at a brisk pace.“You want to see me again?”

He flinched intuitively at her stare like a rabbit who noticed the eyes of a coyote about to pounce. He brushed his fingers through his hair acting as though he were unfazed and didn't have just the tiniest bit of a crush on her.

“Course. I’d be an idiot not to.”

She certainly had no reason not to see Staci again, in all fairness he had every right to act jealous about what had happened at Jacob’s door and she had long since forgiven him for being short with her. At this point few others were knocking down her door for a date and despite the fact that they had little in common he made her laugh and that was more than most people could do. It didn't hurt of course that she also thought he was cute, a little vain maybe, but he was harmless.

“You know I’m not much for small talk.”

He followed as she kept walking, her legs stretching in long, sure strides. “Fine by me, mouths can do other things than talk.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and winked.

Kit sneered, groaning at his terrible smooth line.

He laughed and shrugged off her reaction. “What? I had to try.”

She was surprised that he liked to try so hard with her. She was used to him running his mouth and then sticking his foot in it to make things worse. It still was a shock that he even cared to bother with her.

“You’re a dumbass.”

He looked at her with big, brown puppy dog eyes. Putting on a look of innocence as though candy wouldn't melt in his mouth. “A cute one though, right?”

She stopped and pressed the palm of her hand to his cheek, the scruff of his beard scratching at her skin. Her normally flat expression gave way to a nearly non-existent grin. “Not that cute.” She patted his cheek and then continued walking.

He was already standing beside his hulking green pick up as she kept walking towards the far end of the parking lot. She hated the thing though she would never say it to his face. It was garish at best and she was honestly a little surprised that shade of green wasn't made only available for sports cars. It was the type of neon green that yelled at people to notice the driver. She knew Staci tended to use overconfidence to hide his insecurities but Jesus, that truck took it one step too far.

She shielded her eyes for a moment from the blindingly bright truck and pulled the scrunchie from her hair, her bun uncoiled and her auburn hair spilled free down her back. The tension headache was already starting to fade.

He called to her down the parking lot, “You know I hate to see you go, Cross. But I love to watch you walk away."

She looked back over her shoulder, her face twisted in mock disgust. “Ugh, where do you get your lines from?”

He threw his keys up in the air and caught them laughing to himself. “Friday after work?”

She rolled her eyes, he was nothing if not persistent. “Fine. Eight o’clock!”

The way he smiled though, his whole face could light up. His brown eyes glowing amber in the fading sun. The way his eyebrow would lift and his scar would be made more prominent.

“Eight is perfect!”

What he saw in her she could never tell. Was it the fact that she was a new face and thus had less knowledge of his past in Hope County, less expectations of him? Or was it that she was just pretty enough for him to be willing to make her another notch on his bed?

She threw him a thumbs up as she swung open the door of her jeep and climbed inside.

Or maybe she was just trying to find reasons to end it before it got too serious, before she might have to feel something, because Lord knew that was something she'd always been good at.

#wip whenever #skelly writes #fc5 werewolf au #staci pratt x female deputy #staci pratt #kit cross

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hunters-of-the-wastes · 3 years

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From heavyweight birds to nimble predators – to graceful prey and who were once deemed ecologically controversial landscapers, ever since the bombs dropped all those years ago, animals large and small felt the brunt end of the nuclear war. For decades or even centuries, many of the creatures who once roamed the pre-war USA are now lost to time. But some animals are defying the odds, recovering to healthy population levels long after being deemed lost causes. 200 years after the war, many creatures have bounced back, some surprisingly suffering little from the horrors of nuclear devastation. Others, descendants of the once proud wildlife who once roamed the world, now make their mark where their relatives once stood.

Fauna in the world of New America come in a variety of shapes and sizes and occupy wild areas throughout the world. After 200 years, many animals have started to once again return to their old habitats. Some animals have been domesticated by the inhabitants of the New America, and serve as pets, transportation or livestock. Other animals cluster together in the wild in packs, herds, and flocks and try and make a living in the new world. Like with most things, cycles never end. After humans, Deer and Elk populations in many parts of the states both exploded and diminished. While Radstag took the place of many of the larger elk and Deer species in the main Boston territories, many other deer species virtually remained unchanged. As a result, the wilds of Commonwealth are often teeming with deer. Docile creatures, they serve as food for much of the land’s more savage beasts. In addition to the common whitetail, which virtually remained unchanged in much of the US, other smaller deer species came into fruition following a long tedious evolutionary set path, each one designed to thrive within the new world.

Towards more northern territories in New America, Large species of Cervidae still roam the lands. Alces alces, or the Moose still holds title of the largest and heaviest original species in the deer family. However, unlike before in the older days where this animal would never have to fight for the title of largest Deer roaming the planet, the Moose now has competition from other Large Cervidae.

One such species is Megaloceros Ingentiaegidi

ingenti - large, remarkable (Latin) aegidi - shield (Latin)

An absolute icon of prehistory come to life, this giant deer takes on the role of its name sake as one of the most impressive and largest species of Deer. Although comparable in size to moose (6 feet tall, 1,100 lbs), this animal is closer in relation, surprisingly to the Eurasian red deer, who were thought to be brought in to the America’s to fill in exotic game ranches, places where Hunters wouldn’t have to travel half-way across the world just to hunt certain species, or meat farms, as in modern times, western countries such as New Zealand and the United States had taken to importing and farming European red deer for venison.

The term Megaloceros was given to this deer species in regards to the highly noticeable and recognizable “Shield”, that Megaloceros, especially the more famous Megaloceros giganteus, aka the Irish Elk was known for sporting. Impressive antlers that instead of branching out and developing tines, have developed into large shovel-like (palmated) antlers with thick tines growing out from them. It is because of these antlers that this species were originally incorrectly thought to be derived from Moose, as Red Deer and other Elk species like Roosevelt and Rocky Mountain do not have Palmated shovel antlers, but large branching antlers which develop many tines during their life time.

Despite not being related, they are still a large animal when compared to other species of deer that now populate much of the New America landscape, being slightly dwarfed by Moose, (Alces alces) in terms of weight and height, while the moose is dwarfed by Altorell.

Huge deer, bigger than a domestic cow but with a graceful and elegant form perfect for bounding about the open environs where they are commonly found, the American Giant Elk, like most deer exhibit countershading, the belly being a much lighter color than the darkened back.

A shoulder hump stores fat reserves and also supports the animal’s huge antlers. With a span of up to twelve feet, these antlers are the largest of any deer by far; while females do not sport them, males use them to plow snow and expose edible plants, fend off predators, scratch the occasional back itch, and as weapons during the annual rut.

Enormous rutting stags crash their antlers together and shove to determine dominance, a sound that can be heard more than half a mile away. Most of the year these animals can be found in same-sex herds, grazing and browsing under the watchful eye of an appointed sentry. In the northern parts of their range they are often known too commingle with large herds of caribou.

Despite its keen senses, sharp hooves, and the males’ formidable antlers, they still have many natural predators, including wolves, big cats, bears, and wargs; humans too now hunt these creatures with regularity, some for subsistence and most for the trophy of a lifetime. Some humans also consider them sacred, representing bravery, fertility, endurance, and power. Living with so many dangerous predators has made them skittish and unpredictable, making them singularly unqualified for riding despite the many attempts.

Another Species of Cervidae one can stumble across is the Altorell

Described by many as a tangled mess of hair and muscle, with twisted antlers jutting out at seemingly random places on its upper body, it is a mutated member of the Cervine Family that branched off from their original pre-war counterparts, who, unsurprisingly given their tremendous size, happened to be moose!!

The result of a small isolated population of moose being tainted by the radioactive fallout from the onslaught of atomic warfare, it towers over even the most largest of the commonwealths largest fauna, with them being able to fend off large Deathclaw with ease. However, they are also horribly misunderstood creatures. Tales of their temper run rampant through the northern territories, but as it turns out, Altorell are not as aggressive as tall-tales dictate, with attacks against humans being the result of human’s harassing or otherwise giving the animal reasons to attack.

It is also thought that these hyped tales of aggression are also what gave rise to the idea that they are also bloodthirsty to their own kind. While it is true that males will often fight ferociously during breeding seasons with intruding males and deaths can occur during them, males do not actively go out of their way to kill members of their own kind as previously believed. And they are not as solitary as first believed either. Males are known to do what is described as “territory guarding” meaning that while it seems like they leave an area to roam somewhere else, they actually don’t.

And even in defense of their territory range, they are not all that aggressive towards other members of their kind. Rather than retaining a territory simply by fighting, which can cost the animal valuable energy or even result in serious injury or death, Altorell have a 3-stage process to territory guarding. Males often create "sign-posts" to advertise their territory. Sometimes these sign-posts are on the boundary thereby demarcating the territory, or, may be scattered throughout the territory. These communicate to other animals that the territory is occupied and may also communicate additional information such as the sex, reproductive status or dominance status of the territory-holder.

Sign-posts may communicate information by olfactory, auditory, or visual means, or a combination of these. If an intruder progresses further into the territory beyond the sign-posts and encounters the territory-holder, both animals may begin ritualized aggression toward each other. This is a series of stylized postures, vocalizations, displays, etc. which function to solve the territory dispute without actual fighting as this could injure either or both animals. Ritualized aggression often ends by one of the animals fleeing (generally the intruder). If this does not happen, the territory may be defended by actual fighting, although this is generally a last resort.

Because Altorell have what is known as Type-A territory- An 'all-purpose territory' in which all activities occur, e.g. courtship, mating, nesting and foraging-reports of territory size can be confused by a lack of distinction between home range and the defended territory. The size and shape of a territory can vary according to its purpose, season, the amount and quality of resources it contains, or the geography. The size is usually a compromise of resource needs, defense costs, predation pressure and reproductive needs. Younger animals do not need such large territories and as a result their range is smaller. Larger males have highly variable territory sizes, ranging from less than 4,000 hectares (9,900 acres) to almost to over 100,000 hectares (250,000 acres)

To put that range into perspective, The state of Rhode Island is 776,960 acres, or 1,214 square miles.

Females are also not that aggressive as well. Female Altorell without calves are mostly peaceful towards humans. However during their Breeding and Birthing Season, Altorell can become so aggressive and dangerous that many settlements will cordon off areas where they are known to roam, blocking roads and effectively banning entry on all lands for months at a time, until breeding season is done and calves are old enough to leave their mother.

Males have also been discovered staying close to birthing females, as their range can home at least about 3-5 females at a time, and Unlike Moose who only interact with their kind during breeding season and are normally solitary the rest of the year, Females and Male Altorell stay in close vicinity of each other for protection of the young, who when small can fall prey to larger creatures unlike the adults. If a female is in danger and requires aid she can call upon the neighboring females or call for her male, who will come to her rescue.

The only domesticated Altorell known to exist, goes by the name of Kheglen, and like most of his kind is protective against what he owns. But because he moves around a lot, his territory is not a set place. Instead it is the Caravan trailer which he associates with and what's in it, meaning the people living in it, and he'll protect it against anything he deems a threat. So he often roams freely around his "territory" getting rid of threats whenever they park the Caravan. And as it turns out that protection is even against things like passing BoS convoys, who he has learned can pose a danger to those he is protecting-because of this Kheglen has made it a habit of stalking the vicinity around the Caravans and even walking the roads attacking BoS convoys should they wander too close.

Knight Elk, also named "Moon-Stone Elk" or the Inakata Elk, are the fourth largest Elk species, crowned by an impressive pair of antlers that grow so large it is thought they never shed. Herbivores that live in cold climates, they are generally docile, though they have been known to attack when threatened. The distinguishable white hair and shaggy mane make this elk different to other elks in the region, and it is often said they possess a staggering majestic beauty that cannot be rivaled. With a herbivore diet includes grasses, leaves, bark and plants, their high-quality pelts have many uses, and their antlers are highly prized due to their unique branching similar to that of a European Red Deer. Shining and graceful with snowy coat, they are often a symbol of Strength, vitality, wisdom and cunning. As such it is often commonplace in some settlements in the north to give a Greystone charm carved in the animals likeness, to travelers in hopes of a swift journey. In other settlements, because of the stags symbol of fertility, Statues depicting the elk in various poses, are often given to expectant mothers in hopes that their children develop strong able and healthy. Many families also keep one in their home or on their doorstep for luck.

#Fallout #Fallout 4 #Fallout AU #Fallout World Building #What is sought is most often found if it is truly sought: World Information

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lulu2992 · 4 years

Text

What I learned listening to Far Cry 5′s audio files

The game’s lore, as told by its characters.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Remnants of abandoned storylines, “unreleased” content, and contradictions

Or “why not everything you find in the files is still relevant”.

Remnants of abandoned storylines

One NPC mentions “Grace’s kid”. Her losing a child to the cult was her backstory before the developers changed it and decided she would lose her father instead.

Hurk Jr. says the Resistance is lucky John and Jacob “never sorted their brotherly nonsense” and that they might just kill each other. There doesn’t seem to be any conflict between them in the game.

Dutch warns the Deputy the cult may have a mole within the Whitetails.

In the folder that contains most of the Lost on Mars content, there is a conversation between two people talking about a “British guy”, a scientist living near The Ryes’ house and whom Mary May reportedly used to date.

NPCs congratulate the Deputy for “exposing John’s secrets” to the public… and to Joseph, who apparently doesn’t take the news very well. This is strange because we don’t uncover any “secrets” in the game.

In the files, Joseph is sometimes described as shadier than he actually is. People suggest he will punish John for his failures, for example, or some cultists seem afraid of him and that he would abandon them. In the game, cultists don’t complain about him and they all have faith in the Father.

In quite a few files, Eden’s Gate members seem to address the Deputy in a less aggressive and almost non-hostile way. They tell them they don’t belong here, that they know who they are and keeping an eye on them, that they can still be converted, etc. Did the developers think about letting players approach cult members more peacefully at some point?

In the files, a few NPCs say those kidnapped by Eden’s Gate in Holland Valley end up in John’s ranch and don’t come back. Nick says the cultists at Seed Ranch are “having the time of their life” and look like they are “spring breaking”. In the game, people are taken to John’s Gate, not his ranch, and the cultists guarding the ranch are just... guarding it. Eden’s Gate members generally don’t party.

It seems the developers initially intended Anne to be a virtual assistant for Larry (whom she calls Lawrence). In these few files, her voice sounds different and more human than in Lost on Mars.

There are also about 40 files in which she talks like the Anne from Lost on Mars (even more robotic, actually) and gives instructions not to Nick but to Larry, such as “kill the arachnids”, “destroy the eggs”, “kill the queen”, “use the gravity belt”, “reach the terminal”, etc. Was Larry supposed to be playable or the protagonist of Lost on Mars?

Unreleased content

In the game, we can’t interact with Kim outside of cutscenes, probably because they didn’t want to give players the possibility of harming a pregnant woman. As a consequence, most of her lines disappeared from the game. It turns out she has many things to say about her life and her backstory.

Among the things Kim says, she explains John spread the rumor he was the biological father of her baby. I decided this information was not relevant anymore because, while I think John can totally gossip about the Ryes, I don’t think he would want everyone to believe he is the father when Eden’s Gate condemns fornication. Why would John, who desperately wants to look good in the eyes of Joseph, publicly brag about breaking the cult’s rules?

Dutch has new dialog. For example, he calls the Deputy to tell them to watch Joseph’s eulogies for his siblings.

In the game, we can only talk to Burke after getting him out of the Bliss and he recites the lyrics to “Oh The Bliss”. In the files, a “normal”, Bliss-free Burke talks a bit about his life. I don’t remember hearing this before.

There is at least one conversation between Pratt and a cultist/Chosen. He asks where the food for the Judges is kept. He also says he has to go get a prisoner for Jacob.

In what sounds like a cutscene, Mary May talks about Nick. I don’t remember hearing this in the game but maybe I missed it.

I don’t remember hearing Tammy interrogate a cultist either, but I may have missed it too.

Miss Mable talks about coyotes and raccoons while one NPC mentions bobcats. I don’t know if these lines are in the game but these animals sure aren’t.

Merle tells anecdotes to someone who ends up passing out from drinking too much alcohol. It sounds like he might be talking to the Deputy, maybe during the Testicle Festival, but I’m not sure.

At one point, Casey calls John “Jonathan Seed”.

The Seeds have new dialog, mostly broadcasts and radio calls. I will post the transcriptions in the next post.

Contradictions

Hurk Jr. gives two different explanations for the name of Dylan’s “Master Bait Shop”. He either says he and Dylan came up with the name or that it was Skylar’s idea. When I visited this location with him in the game, he told me it was Skylar who had named the shop.

When she talks about Virgil in the game, Tracey says she grew up without a dad her whole life and doesn’t need one now. In the files, she also says her dad used to take her hunting…

A cult member says “John’s faith wavered” but another says he remained “faithful until death”. The latter seems to be canon because nothing in the game indicates otherwise but the two claims clearly contradict each other.

Nick says he isn’t an animal lover or a dog person but, in the game, he says he is jealous of the Deputy because they have Boomer and Kim doesn’t want a dog. He seems to love the Fangs for Hire.

Hurk Sr. says he isn’t a prepper and doesn’t like bunkers but Hurk Jr. talks about… his dad’s bunker.

Adelaide wants the Resistance to take pictures of Jacob, “preferably shirtless, for intelligence purposes” and says she is willing to “take one for the team” if it can help. Yet, in the files, she also comments, “2/10, would not bang”.

Adelaide says Hurk Jr. was 25 when she divorced Hurk Sr. (this line is in the game). She and her ex-husband both say they haven’t talked in 17 years, presumably when they divorced. This would make Hurk Jr. 42 years old. The problem is Hurk Jr. also says that, when his parents divorced, he had just turned 30. If his parents haven’t spoken in 17 years, it means he is 47 years old. But then, at one point, Sharky mentions a childhood anecdote and refers to himself and his cousin as “a couple of 7-year-olds”, which would indicate they are the same age. Sharky was canonically born in 1980 and is 37 (almost 38) in the game… In short, I have no idea how old Hurk Jr. is.

Walker comments he thought he would be happy after Jacob’s death but realizes he doesn’t feel anything. In the game, he dies before Jacob.

One NPC says “Jacob got wind of” the fact the Deputy tried to arrest Joseph. Except he was there and he saw it happen.

Even though there are no tennis courts at Seed Ranch, both Nick and Sharky mention them. I know Sharky’s line is still in the game.

#far cry 5 #far cry 5 spoilers

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