#Biscuit Kin

[hecku-luna]

OH SHIT completely forgot to post this character kin onion I made the other day!!

[ell-es-dee]

☣ hallo !! im nawt the best at making intros so.. here's the best one i could put together... (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)

💊 namehoard: toxin, sayori, yakui (main name), cyanide, lithium, radium, xenon, cyber, marigold, bonnie, keta/ketamine, aol, hazard, strawb, nyacifier, chlorine, zombeh, poptart, hani, kona, ++ any fictionkin names are fine!!

💊 boyflux/nonbinaryflux intersex boygirl, aroaceflux and pomoromantic ++ xenogenders

💊 pronouns: it/xe/lean/purp/glitch/nuke/🍪/☣️/💜 (use any other and i will give 1 warning, and if u continue it will become a block. (¬`‸´¬)

💊 all of my aesthetics/subcultures (very passionate about them,,): larpercore, slasher summer, juggalo, cultcore, doomer, slimepunk, necrotrap, bastardcore, terrorwave, incelcore, sigmacore, grunge, gopnik, slavic, jumpstylecore, oddcore, toxiccore, glowwave, icepunk, breakcore, acidwave, drugcore, kinderwhore, trashcore, urbling, scemo, shinora, gurokawa, rokku gyaru, hadeko, clowncore, yamanba gyaru, maidcore

💊 i have some disorders,, iwc always ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა (i swear im nice)

💊 some of my main fandoms: american psycho, stephen king (any of his movies/books), fnaf, yandere simulator, class of 09, final destination, pulp fiction, ddlc, genshin impact, saw, scream, lucky star, creepypasta, eddsworld, south park, monster high, twilight, heathers, tyler the creator lore, mlp, breaking bad, strawberry shortcake, athf, edd ed and eddy, homestuck, vocaloid, gorillaz, the office, american horror story, goosebumps, nijura maids (i dont support the creator 😕) ++ more

💊 my otherkins/conceptkins;; vampire kin, robot kin, glitch kin, angel kin,, zombie kin,, doll kin,, whether kin (tornado!!),, nightmare kin,, plush kin,, tech kin,, toy kin,, scarecrow kin, shadow kin, sea monster kin,, christmas kin, valentines day kin, hypnosis kin, chatbot kin, wizard kin, fallen angel/demon kin,, song kin,, death angel kin,, whats app kin (yes i kin whats app),, elf kin,, microwave kin,, halloween kin

💊 theriotypes;; jackalope,, koi fish,, calico cat,, vampire cat,, angel cat,, ant,, glow worm,, lamb,, kitsune,, bunny,, hamster,, jumping spider,, red fox,, white bat,, rosy maple moth,, groundhog,, raccoon,, polyphemus moth,, goat,, borzoi dog,, dirt worm,, persian cat (brown fur) ++ questioning others

💊 food kins: sour patch kid candy (specifically orange), jack-o-lantern (idk if that counts as a food), peeps marshmallow (specifically the yellow chick one), cotton candy (pink and blue)

💊 top fictionkins;; ticci toby (crp), yakui-san (nijura maids), billy lenz, nicole (class of 09), kyle broflovski, casey (scream), wendy torrence, carrie white, hatsune miku (vocaloid!!!!), sayori (ddlc), midori gurin (yansim), karkat vantas (homestuck), bonnie (fnaf), tord (eddsworld), derpy hooves (mlp), tavros nitram (homestuck), applejack (mlp), toko fukawa (danganronpa) konakona018 (oc), biscuit tan, patrick batemen (american psycho), billy loomis (scream), lulu (crp), judge angel (crp), natsuki (ddlc), sierra (tdi), karen (class of 09), meatwad (athf), junko (danganronpa), beta!kokichi (danganronpa v3), sayaka maizono (danganronpa v1), hamtaro, stanley mitchell, jade harley (homestuck), john egbert (homestuck), yowane haku (vocaloid), wolf haley, chihiro (danganronpa), dorei san, shitai san ++ wayy more.. (pfp is probably who im kinshifted as) also im fine with doubles & mediamates!!

💊 factkins: courtney love, rob canter, lisa left eye, george harrison, allison harvard

💊 some of my favorite music artists;; smashing pumpkins, jazmin bean, sharkdrug, yabujin, korn, icp, limp bizket, kmfdm, nirvana, 2pac, 4lung (i dont support the creator), bloodhound gang, cannibal corpse, foo fighters ☹️, weezer, gorillaz, kendrick lamar, lagoyo, red hot chili peppers, tyler the creator, basement jaxx, pierce the veil, deftones, ayesha erotica, slipknot, 1 800 pain, msi, hole, 2pac, slipknot

💊 selfshipper!!!! f/os: cody (tdi), edd (eddsworld), eyeless jack (crp), gamzee (homestuck), 2D (gorillaz), morty (r&m), mastershake (athf), liu woods (crp), x virus (crp), wallace wells (scott pilgrim), simon henriksson (cry of fear) ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა

💊 adoptive father of jank boteko and an0rex1c sour patch kid meme (WHO IS PRO-YAKUI FAMILY 💜♥️😈)/satire

💊 i know japanese & russian ^______^ (english isn't my main but im ok with it)

💊 moodboard account: @noapologiesbynirvana

💊 webkinz, beanie babies, furbies, shopkins & squishmallows collector!!!!

💊 dni: basic dni, anti fictionkin/otherkin/etc, anti furry, anti therian, transphobes, homophones, TRUE CR*ME COMMUNITY/COLUMB*NERS (im recovering), people who support trump (YOU'RE HORRIBLE!!!!), nsfw blogs, toxic stans (any community), shedblr or cvtblr (im recovering), people who i had drama with in the past 😕😕

💊 gonna leave it at that for now,, might add more later !! ^_______^ 🌀🌀

[darth-mortem]

Finally, I wrote a new text for my English lessons! It's about all TF 141, and it's funny and a little hot.

In this fic Captain Price started a fight for the purity of the language in TF 141 before the visit of generals with inspection. 1846 words.

TW: obscene language

Captain Price went to look for his soldiers around the base and expectedly found them in the smoking area. They chased the rookies away and sat down on the benches with cups of tea and coffee. To tell the truth, they had the right to rest: TF 141 had just returned from the mission in the morning. Therefore, the captain didn’t focus on the behavior of his soldiers, but instead he said something else.

“Well, well, lads,” Price said as he looked at them, lighting his cigar. “An inspection commission is coming to our base in four days. So I want you to watch your language and to stop cursing.”

You can keep reading on Ao3 or here

“Oh, shit!” Gaz exclaimed.

“Fucking hell,” Ghost shook his head.

“Oh, thay kin awa’ and chew mah banger!” Soap added, and aggressively sipped his coffee.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” Price said, sighing heavily.

All four looked at each other, and then Soap rolled his eyes and let out a loud groan.

Of course, Price understood that a request and even an order wouldn’t be enough to achieve such a difficult goal as purity of language. That’s why he resorted to some measures that could help. When Ghost, Soap, and Gaz returned to their task force’s break room, they saw a jar with a label in Price’s handwriting on it.

“One curse—one quid,” Gaz read and turned to the others. “Hey, mates, what the fuck?”

“You cursed,” Ghost said thoughtfully, “so you have to put a quid in this bloody jar.”

“Ye too, Lt.!” Soap laughed. “Yer stupid arseholes, guys!”

Simon and Kyle stared at him, and Johnny suddenly stopped laughing. Then each of them threw a coin into the jar in dead silence. Of course, they all had something to say, but no one wanted to part with the money, so the lieutenant and two sergeants stayed quiet. That’s how they were found by Price, who went into the room to make himself a cup of tea.

“Oh, I see you’ve already figured out how it works,” the captain said, turning on an electric kettle.

“Actually not at all,” the lieutenant answered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do we have to bring coins here if we curse outside the room?”

“Of course you are, Simon,” Price said. “I count on your honesty, lads.”

“Oh, shit,” Gaz sighed sadly.

“Hey! Watch your fucking language, Kyle!” The captain exclaimed.

There was silence for a few seconds. Then MacTavish laughed, looking at Price and Garrick, who threw their coins into the jar.

This evening, when TF 141 gathered in the break room for tea and biscuits according to their tradition, everyone saw that the jar was stuffed, and it contained not only coins but also banknotes. Price stared at it, slowly removed his hat, and rubbed the back of his head.

“Looks like it’s not working,” MacTavish commented, pulling a box of chocolate chip cookies from the cupboard.

"Looks like we need a bigger jar,” Price denied grimly.

“F…” Riley started, and noticed the others staring at him. “Fine!”

Garrick shook his head and began to pour boiling water into cups.

During evening tea, the four soldiers talked and laughed a lot, usually, but not today. They exchanged a few words, added coins to the jar, and quickly left. However, fifteen minutes later, Soap slipped into Ghost’s room, and Gaz performed a similar maneuver, finding himself in Captain Price���s. They saw each other in the corridor, but both pretended that they didn’t.

For a while, Price and Garrick forgot about the jar, and they didn’t feel like talking at all. The sergeant’s mouth was occupied with kisses at first, and then with something else instead. Only when Kyle was in bed, pressed against the mattress by the stocky, hot captain’s body, he finally spoke.

“Oh, fuck…” He exhaled, melting as Price kissed his neck, scratching the skin with the stiff bristles. “It’s so fucking good, John! Oh… should I put the coins in the jar?"

“Mmm… of course!” The captain answered, caressing Kyle with his hand.

“But John!” The sergeant exclaimed resentfully.

“No buts,” Price said, shaking his head. “I must have principles.”

“Well,” Garrick hugged him tighter and threw his leg on the captain’s thigh, “then I’ll make you pay more than me!”

A similar thing was happening in Lieutenant Riley’s room. In the beginning, Ghost tried to cover Soap’s mouth with his palm or kiss him to silence his voice, but then he forgot about it. Johnny was so hot and willing to do anything for him, so Simon focused on giving him as much pleasure as possible. MacTavish had always been noisy in bed, so even now he was moaning and cursing as he squirmed under the stocky lieutenant, and Ghost enjoyed it. He remained as quiet as ever; only his heavy, hoarse breathing indicated that he also felt good.

Later, when they both got dressed and stood by the window smoking, breaking base’s rules, Soap looked at Ghost and said:

“You made me swear a lot, sae ye have tae pay for me.”

“Negative,” the lieutenant answered.

Soap pouted but didn’t argue, so they returned to bed and quickly fell asleep.

In the morning, Gaz was the last to come to the break room. Glancing at Captain Price, he went over to the new, larger jar and silently put a handful of coins into it.

“Well, well,” Soap reacted immediately, “somebody had a hot night?”

“Yeah!” Gaz answered, annoyed. “And what about you? I can’t believe you were just sleeping!”

Soap sighed heavily, went over to the jar, and put coins in it too. Price and Riley looked at each other and smiled.

The next few days proved difficult for all members of TF 141. One evening, Ghost came to the room, angry and annoyed. He clearly didn’t want to talk, but the others started asking questions, and he gave up. After sipping his tea, the lieutenant put a fifty-pound banknote into the jar and said:

“I trained rookies today.”

Then he thought a little, put in another twenty pounds, and began to tell his story. Price tried to react silently, but the sergeants didn’t skimp on comments and added approximately the same amount to Riley’s deposit.

Another day, the captain himself became a victim of his own invention. Price was doing the paperwork, clearing the entire backlog on mission reports and equipment requisitions, and he was infuriated both by the amount of documents that were simply missing and by the level of the Army bureaucracy.

“Soap, you muppet!” He spoke angrily. “Why did you take so many fucking explosives and didn’t write bloody requests?!”

“Sorry, Cap, I forgot,” Johnny answered, hiding behind Simon.

Gaz laughed and drew the captain’s attention to him.

“And you, little trick-headed bastard,” Price looked at Garrick strictly. “Why does your sniper training ammo request say ‘200’? Did you learn from scratch?!”

“Oh… Maybe I wrote an extra zero accidentally." Kyle was embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Cap.”

“Sometimes I hate you so much, lads,” Price said, shaking his head. “Except for Simon. His papers are always in perfect order.”

“Thank you, sir," Ghost answered, looking at the sergeants haughtily.

When the inspection day finally arrived, all members of TF 141 were almost happy. Several generals from different NATO countries respectfully walked around, accompanied by local officers, and looked at the soldiers’ training, the base’s infrastructure, and the condition of the buildings and equipment. One of them, the Canadian general, was particularly impressed by the drill of the Scottish unit, where soldiers marched on the square in kilts.

“It looks so fucking pretty,” he said with enjoyment. “Just look at them, Marv!”

“Don’t be such a dickhead, Ethan,” Marv, the USA general, rolled his eyes. “Focus on the inspection!”

Captain Price, who was one of the accompanying officers, carefully held his emotions and looked away, but it didn’t end there. At the shooting range, the commission ran into Ghost, Soap, and Gaz, who were on their way to training. Having saluted according to the statute, the soldiers of TF 141 moved on and clearly heard the words spoken by one of the generals.

“Have you seen this guy in a skull mask?” he asked. “He’s a fucking terminator!”

MacTavish coughed hard, and Garrick elbowed him in the side.

Later, the generals wanted to see the barracks, and soon they reached the residential block where the soldiers of TF 141 lived. After inspecting the sergeants’ rooms, they went into the recreation room, where Ghost was going through some documents and drinking tea.

“Carry on!” The German general ordered before Ghost stood up and saluted.

Price and Riley watched as the commission inspected their room, looking at the maps and photos on the walls, and appreciating cleanliness. Finally, someone noticed the jar, and the generals crowded around it.

“Look, Ethan,” the USA general said to his Canadian colleague, “it’s a fucking good idea!”

Ghost coughed, and everyone turned to him. Under his sinister, icy gaze, the USA general got confused; then he patted his jacket pockets and pulled out a coin.

“I don’t have a quid,” he said. “Will a dollar do?”

“Aye, sir!” Lieutenant Riley answered strictly, and the general put his coin into the jar.

When the inspection left the base, the jar disappeared, and the members of TF 141 breathed a sigh of relief. They were so happy that they didn’t even ask where all the collected money went. However, the answer to this question was soon received. One cold, rainy evening, Captain Price entered the break room and placed a bottle of good whiskey and a large bag of various delicacies on the table.

“Och, what’s th’ reason?” Soap asked and jumped up to get glasses from the cupboard. “Did someone die? Or mibbie born?”

“Shut the fuck up, Soap,” the captain answered cheerfully. “I decided that spending money from the swear jar on a small feast was a good idea. And our base passed the inspection perfectly; it’s not a bad reason.”

The soldiers perked up and stirred as they took out plates and spread the goodies that Price had bought for them.

“Hey, Simon,” the captain called, and the lieutenant approached him. “That general fooled you. Here, take a look.”

Price placed a coin in Riley’s palm. It wasn’t a dollar, but fifty cents.

“Arsehole!” Ghost exclaimed angrily, looking at the coin.

“Fuck him,” Johnny gasped with his hand and poured the whiskey into the glasses. “C'moan, guys, let’s drink!”

All four sat down at the table, and soon the usual cheerful and warm atmosphere reigned in the room. The soldiers were talking, recalling funny incidents from their missions, drinking whiskey, and eating delicious snacks. Soap rested his head on Ghost’s shoulder, and Price carelessly hugged Gaz, stroking the back of his head.

“Th’ idea wi’ that jar wasn’t sae terrible,” MacTavish said, enjoying the cured meat and the lieutenant’s tight embrace. "Mibbie, we can repeat it somehow?" “No!” Price, Riley, and Gaz answered in unison, and then all four laughed loudly.

[god-is-a-robot-cat]

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One can be referred to as Kazan. It is an all-powerful spirit who has taken a limited form on a quest for knowledge. For more system information, please contact @kazanfamily.

Its identity can be summarized by the following:

Robotkin/AI-kin -> It is a machine designed to learn about human behaviour. It files under #data log K-415.

Godkin -> One is known as The Brightness, a Deity which rules the domains of light, fire and passion. It goes by many names, but only its followers and those with permission are allowed to use them. You may find its wisdom under #ramblings of magma.

Catkin -> It is also a tabby cat! It likes purring, making paw biscuits and chasing laser pointers :3 Its tag is #tabby mrrows.

Otherlink -> We've always connected with countless fictional characters and wanted to become them. This has played a huge part in our system's formation. Tag is #legion of fiction.

Other tags include: (More may be added)

#divine eruption -> for venting.

#supernova tapestry -> for writing/poetry.

#wireless echoes -> for reblogs.

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[Good night.]

[morbidwerewolf]

🐾 intro post ´ཀ`

hii , my name is fox :) dms open !!

about me ☆

i am a 19 y/o poly-therian, i have autism + bpd. i have a v strong mental connection with canines and other creatures, i am also a system which causes me to have blackouts/amnesia so, apologies in advance for any inactivity. this account is probably gonna be all over the place due to that fact, but i aim to use this account to post mainly therian/otherkin topics, reblogging, outfits, art & more + my other socials are at the bottom of this post :),,

kins/theriotypes ☆

▇ : mains

british columbian wolf (black/brown coat with a lighter brown/grey undercoat), northwestern wolf (blonde/brown/grey coat), lycanthrope/werewolf, raccoon, cross fox & melanistic jaguar.

( + questioning )

i am also a dog therian with multiple kins such as the border collie, german shepherd, wolfhound/deerhound & more.

interests/hyperfixations ☆

- music, my fav band is ice nine kills :3

- photography, fashion, makeup & blood sfx

- animals, mythical creatures & bugs

- the walking dead, the last of us, ZOMBIES.

- creepypasta, horror

- im a massive gamer so heres some of my favs : shadow of the collosus, minecraft, the last guardian, overwatch, until dawn, beyond two souls, god of war, life is strange & many more lulul

- i rlly enjoy cooking, especially sweet things like pastries, cakes, biscuits ect,, even tho i havent got a sweet tooth at all.

im not sure what else to put so THATS ALL

Other socials ☆

instagram & tiktok = morbiddog pintrest = morbidwolff

[flooferbutt]

blep, hello

this is my hello post! :3

important stuff will be listed like this-

bullet pointed & bolded : and italicized

or big text o3o

all blinkies are from blinkies.cafe, and userboxes have either been requested from people by me or are f2u!

hi, this is your resident wobbly cat polytherian semigenderfluid furry system floofbutt 🐾

here to goof around and reblog lots of random-ass posts :3

and welcome to my tumblr :D

just a little note : no hate against any of my stuff (identities, fandoms etc) will be tolerated in comments or asks, I'll report if it's bad enough but mostly ignore

✨ I make moodboards on request!

this is a safe space for therians / otherkin / alterhumans, systems, furries and lgbtqia+ people! we are awesome!!

i love yall /platonic

I’m working on a ClanGen / Warrior Cats comic! @aftermathclangen

meet my system here!

we are willogenic / endogenic, and no hate/fakeclaiming will be tolerated here :3

kindly just dni if you want to argue or be rude ❤

This is a safe space for all systems!!

we're a chaotic asf little system

kinda like a dorm full of college boys lmao

jus call me floof :3 or ask for my willo (headmate) names if you want i appreciate it

ask me if you have any questions about therians or furries or systems, i love polite curious folks and respectful humans :D

I hope your day is good and if it is not i shall make biscuits with and/or on you until you feel better

my genders : nonbinary, kinda masc, demiboy, autumnic / fallxenic, semi genderfluid (masc-enby)

my pronouns : they/them , he/him , spook/spooky/spooks/spookself, twi/itch/twitch/itchself (all used like he/him/his/himself)

my orientations : pansexual (all genders are cool!) ; polyamorous

my fandoms : furry, d&d, warrior cats, wings of fire, foxcraft, coraline, Tolkien, scp foundation (049 is my boi)

my alterhuman stuff : therian (Canadian lynx) , cladotherian (all felines) , otherkin (space cat) , oc-kin (I kin all my headmates) , naturehearted

I get phantom shifts (tails, ears, horns) , perception shifts, predator urges

mostly just a floof come to think of it

this right here is mostly me ⬇

I'm mostly a mess and i am many things, but at least I'm a cute mess :3

I'm usually awake at 12am to 4am (EST) with naps on either end :D

...and during the day because human body, sigh

dni list : zoophiles, pedophiles, (insert all the usual dni stuff here) anti therian, anti system, anti willo / endo, anti systems, anti furry, anti lgbt+, anti polyamorous, hateful / rude people in general

welcome list : people curious about my communities / identities! , systems of any kind!! , any kind of therian / alterhuman, any lgbtqia+ (i love y'all /platonic), furries

fandom welcome list : warrior cats fanatics (wc:ue players!!), fantasy roleplay folks, coraline fans!, Ron Perlman Hellboy snobs like me <3 , tolkein book & movie fans (who else calls legolas 'leggy'? just me? ok) , wings of fire fans, foxcraft folks, anyone who wants a buddy! (this is the messy fandom list, the neater one is further up)

time zone : EST / Maine USA

ok so basically here’s a TL;DR

: read my pinned post! : (that’s this post, good job) : your local therian writer-artist! : : taking moodboard requests : : year-round inbox trick-or-treating! : : usa : : overage : : blep : : i write free verse poetry sometimes : : lgbtqia+ : : they/them , he/him : : whisk/whisker , floof/floofer : : twi/itch/twitch/itchself :

: sfw furry : : small willogenic / imaginagenic system : : polytherian, naturehearted, fictionkin, otherkin, oc-kin : : and many other things :

my discord is @ lordiefloof feel free to throw me a friend request if chu wanna chat idm

i ask silly questions sometimes, try to take them with a laugh :D

sincerely

-- Floof :3

🍃🐾

🐾🍃

warning: I have weird little trusting dweeb /pos black cat energy, with thumbs

now i gotta figure out how to pin this

[royall-ass]

HI ROYAL maybe uhm. cast your myoo chu uhls as tgwdlm....heh...

hey poop!!!! okay :3

Paul: @lsrgkwtvr ONLY bcuz u said u kin him :33

Emma: @biscuits-spooky-diner sorry for casting u as every badass woman ever

Ted: @blue-razzslushie2 idk…… i can just……. see it

Bill: @riddlingabout…. maybe…

Charlotte: @thesillychro im pretty sure u love her,,,, sooo,,,,,,,, i think idk

Hidgens: @biologyologyy you’re welcome

HONORABLE MENTION FOR ZOEY: @zoeyslament cuz u love her im pretyy sure :3

[psychologeek]

Whumptober #20+Alt 2: Mashber

Mashber (breaking point): A crisis, birth, a wave

20: EMOTIONAL ANGST | Shoulder to Cry On | "It's not your fault." Alt 2: Communication Barrier

~

Janet's water breaks on July 18th, but her child doesn't come out until noon of the 19th. Part of her wonders hysterically if the child did it on purpose, knowing the date.

(She spends half her time bouncing on a big plastic ball, humming "Eyni Eyni Yorda Mayim". Part of her seriously considers naming the child Efrayim.)

Janet's child is seven weeks old when they welcome the new year, and despite it all she finds herself humming "Hayom Harat Olam".

At eight weeks old, she put her child to sleep with Un'tane Tokef.

At this point, she realises that her previous plans aren't going to work. Raising a rootless child is not a real option.

(There's an infantry version, a childish part in her that longs to pay it forward. The rhythm and melodies and every tradition she once swore to leave behind.)

And besides, she remembers bitterly, it's not like denying their heritage ever helped any of them.

~

Janet's child is five years old when they have This conversation. She is putting the final touches of her warpaint: eyeliner, sharp as a fresh Lulav. Her child is sitting on the bed, biting lips and serious.

"Mummy," her child asks. "Why did Mr. Smith say that you're a cake? "

Janet puts down her eyeliner.

"What do you mean, honey? Can you tell me exactly what happened?"

"Um," her darling child hesitates. "In the Chrismas party. At Caleb's parents? I finished- I said hi to everyone and. Umm. Caleb said they have sweets and he said I can't get the grown-ups cookies and I said I can and he said nu-uh and I said I do it. And there were a bunch of people stand by the cookies table and I couldn't go 'way and then they say mean things! They said that you're a cake and you killed someone and that dad only marry you 'couse you're escotic and-and-"

Jant's child is crying, and she closes her eyes and hate' for a second. Hate everything and everyone that got her kid to feel that way. That made her child feel hurt.

Janet takes a deep breath, and looks at her child. "some people lack the proper intellect to hide their small-minded brains. Don't let them know they got to you - but never forget who they are".

"But why they say you're a cake, mummy?" her kid isn't sobbing, but there's pain on the tiny faces. "I don't understand. You don't even like cake! you prefer biscuits 'cause they're smaller and less messy!"

(There's something pure and sweet in the innocence of childhood.)

And there are many things she can say. Many different ways to talk about hate and prejudice and decades of hurt and pain. There are many ways to talk about it, but she choses the way they always did it.

(She tells her child a story)

"well. Years ago, there were people who came from a distant land. And their clothes were different and their names and the way they spoke. Most of them didn't speak English when they came. And they were asked to write their names, they couldn't do it in the letters you know. The letters that the guards on the border wanted them."

"So why didn't the guards learn to read their language?"

"Because. Because sometimes, that's how people are. and so the weary people, the poor and tired who came from across the sea, were told to use an X."

"So they all signed with X?"

"No. Because, if you turn it over - the letter X looks like a symbol of the people that weren't kind to them. It looks like a symbol that, for many many years, was easy to rise and mark pain for their parents and kin. A mark that was a sign for hundreds and hundreds of years of pain."

"So they didn't use the X?"

"No. No, they didn't. They put down their name as a circle. a round shape, with no sharp edges to hurt others. And in their langauge, that shape was called Kayk. And ever since then, when some people try to be mean, they remind to this people and their kids where they come from: from the poor, weary people who came to a strange land - looking for a better life."

Mother's earrings are long, like teardrops. As the light breaks through, it almost looks like magic.

"And that's bad?" asks the child, still sitting on the bed.

"You should find your own thoughts," mother takes a second to point her soft brush. "What do you think? Is going far, far away, looking for a better chance in life, a bad thing?”

The kid's mouth opens, but the mother shushes them.

"No. Not yet. Don't answer me now. Think about it, and tell me about your thoughts when we'll be back from the gala."

And as she finishes the final touches, she can hear the child behind her take a deep breath.

"You said they call it to those people and their kids," the words are soft. "So why they calling you?"

And this is a long awaited conversation,  one she can't have right now. So she take her child, her only-born, her loved one. 

And as the weight of innocence is warm in her arms, she says, "because knowledge is power. And you will always be judged by things you can't - and shouldn't - change about yourself. Because small minded people are always out there. But at least you'll know the truth behind the words said."

"Is it the story of our family?" asks her too-clever child.

"Yes," she says. "And no. This is a story of Our People. This is a story of Our Kind. But this isn't the only one. Not even the most common. This isn't The Story of our family, but it's one of the stories of Us.”

~

Janet's child is only fourteen years old, and there are many things she regrets she never said:

(I'm sorry)

(I love you)

(I know)

(You are my child)

Janet is dying.

She is drunken, but not with wine;

And right in front of her:  this cup of staggering; the beaker, this Kos Tre'la.

There are many things Janet wishes she told her child, and one she'll never regret:

"You are part of a long, brave dynasty. Never forget who you are. Never let anyone make you feel bad for who you are." (We shall outlive them)

(Like it? I have more mini-fics Whumptober index | And full size fics on ao3. )

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Hehehehe it's my shark week so rank the yanderes on their help-ability (idk if it's a word)

Yandere men and their help-ability on your shark week/period

I was also thinking of writing this last week since I was on my shark week also that time, but then I got busy so >-<

YAN! ARTIST:7/10

Arlen's pretty sensitive to stuff involving you. Of course, this meant your period too. This is one of the few times he'll leave you alone to let you somehow rest (he's aware that he's real clingy). He'll provide what you ask him to provide, but will not do it voluntarily since he wants to respect what you actually need depending on what you say.

"Muse? Do you need something? Ah, hot compress and hot chocolate? Sure. Just wait for me, okay?"

YAN! DRAGON:8/10

Vincent's also sensitive, but to blood. He can smell it, and he gets really uncomfortable. Not to the concept of period, but he's uncomfortable due to the fact that blood is permeating from you. It feels to him like you're bleeding to death despite it being a natural biological phenomenon. So he gets fussy around you and ends up being always worried, pressing his giant dragon head on your abdomen since his body temperature is higher that most monster kin and people. He also brings stuff you need to make sure you're comfortable. Although, he's quite blunt sometimes...

"Love, are you okay? I can smell the blood being a bit stronger this time. Is the flow strong? Hmm? Why are you blushing, love?"

YAN! THEATER ACTOR:9.5/10

Ignatius would actually know a lot about periods, surprisingly enough. He did play feminine roles before, and is a girl's man. An Alan if you will if you exclude the yandere-ness and the arrogance. So he's knowledgeable about stuff like this (probably more than you). He'll track your period for you, and if you're irregular, he makes sure he has an extra pad/tampon/diva cup for you. He's ready to drop the primadonna persona for once and shower you with attention.

"Stop! My god, darling! *whispers* you have a stain. Here, take my sweater. Wrap it on your waist. Then we'll go to my locker to get a new sanitary item and an extra pair of pants. Don 't worry. I'll gouge the eyes of those who saw your stain."

YAN! BUTLER:10/10

Ugh, what do we expect from the perfect butler himself? Also knows your period cycle if regular, and if you're irregular, he somehow knows when you would get your period like a week before. And he's always accurate. Tea, biscuits, sanitary items of the highest quality, somehow always have a change of a dress on him? Where does he even store it? Anyways, what i'm saying is, this man is gonna be your go to when you're on your period fr.

"Master, would you like some chocolate bonbons? I have some right here. Haha, you're just craving them? Then i'm glad I know you well enough. Here, and some medicine too."

YAN! SUGAR DADDY:5/10

As much as I love Rowan, he's probably not the best when you're on your period. He's probably the type to ask "what's your p0xxy size?" when you ask him to buy pads LMAO. He clueless, really. Despite being such a playboy before. He's also a busy man, so he's not going to be that attentive with you. But he does compensate with showering you with what you need and want though. Just... Don't ask him to buy sanitary items without specifying what brand, size, and absorbency... He will not be embarrassed to ask you shameless questions like earlier. He will get better with time though... I think.

"Darling, why do you need an extra long one? Is your p0xxy that long or-- OW! OUCH! HEY! DON'T HIT ME!"

YAN! JOCK:8/10

Since Damon is actually not a clueless jock and is an intellectual in disguise, he knows about periods. And will probably research more for you. He will run to the convenience store for you, buy you painkillers, snacks... He will be your personal errand boy for the week! This is one of the times he thanks his athletic prowess that let's him be of use of you in your shark week.

"You need painkillers, babe? Sure! Also chocolate? Um, let's see. If my route is on street X, then I could probably go around the pharmacy then the convenience store... Okay! Just wait for me. Be back in a jiffy!"

YAN! ASSASSIN:4/10

His fellow assassins in the organization more or less don't get periods anymore due to the abusive training they get there. Maybe rarely, but mostly gone. But since he needs to be academically smart to think critically, he knew about the nuances of periods. But that's it. Don't expect this guy to be helpful, he will just fumble and act smart but in reality he's not skilled in taking care of someone in their periods.

"Angel, you think that you can tell me what to do to help you? I'm clueless here. But I swear I'll help ya."

YAN! EX-BOYFRIEND:4/10

Lee never paid attention to you before you broke up. So with you back in his arms, he's discovering quite a lot about you. And that meant your period routines also. If you're the type to have painful periods, panic will settle inside this man. He doesn't know what to do with that. He will fumble and fall, which is new to Lee. But learning new stuff about you actually is exciting for him. So, he may not be the best to take care of you, he will be willing to learn.

"Uh, are you okay? You look like you're about to die... Is it that painful? Fuck. I don't know what to do... The pharmacy? Okay. Uh, shit. Know what painkillers you need? Like the period specific? You'll list it down? Thank you."

YAN! COWBOY:5/10

Bad news, Knoxx will be at most average in your period. Being someone who only had you as his lover, he's pretty much new to helping you with your period. He's so focused on his horses before that he never really paid that much attention to women's biology before. Now, that you're with him, he's eagerly trying to help you as much as he can. Unfortunately, it was the bare minimum.

"Darlin! I got yer some pads! Uh... Wrong size? There are sizes? Ah sorry darlin. Can't you use them? Too short? Also mediocre brand that gets blood everywhere? Oh that's bad darlin... Okay, I'll try to find a better one."

YAN! EMO:3/10

Ashton's a lonely man. He never got together with a person before, let alone somebody with a womb. He's a single sadboy before you. He never listened to classes too, so he's really dumb when it comes to periods. His sensitivity can only get so far when it's actual human biology is involved. He will not be helpful, that's for sure. So uh, just make him run errands for snacks for you.

"What can I do? I feel so bad... I bought you tampons/pads when you use the opposite, and cold compress. Snacks? I can do that..."

YAN! WEREWOLF:6/10

Being a werewolf, he doesn't know the concept of periods. In his species, there's only the concept of Heats and Ruts, so human periods baffle him. But hey, he learns quick. So just simple instructions from you, he gives. He's average really. But due to his wolf form and the natural heat coming from him, he's a large stuff toy to cuddle AND hot compress in one.

(ugh werewolves have so much different biological concepts from each other that my werewolf specie is an amalgamation)

"Ah, you need cuddling again? Sure. Let me just shift. So go lie on the bed now and I'll be with you. Make sure to have a towel underneath your hips so no stains."

YAN! EX-HUSBAND:7.5/10

Iñigo's actually really attentive. He knows quite a lot about you so he knows your rituals on your periods. He makes sure that you're well fed, well taken care of, and if you need anything at all, he would give it on a silver platter. He makes sure that everyone respects your privacy and needs despite your mood swings. He's extra patient with you, and he works at home by this time to take care of you.

"Wifey, you good? Why I'm working in your room? Well, you told me earlier not to leave you right? So I'm here. Don't worry, just sleep in your fort, I'll be right here."

YAN! HOSPITAL CHAIRPERSON:10/10

Being a person in the medical field, he knows more than you know about periods. Plus, his paranoia would make him really attentive. Maybe a bit over, but you know he'll provide you everything you need. Especially if you're the painful type. Medicine will always be on stock, and that hot compress and food good for periods will be with you always. Also has access to the best sanitary items. Extra absorbent for pads and tampons, and holds a lot of blood with enough suction and a long pull tab for diva cups. He's the perfect man for the job, and he's really glad to help you.

"Did you eat the soup I gave you? Yes? Good. Here, medicine. You told me it hurts a lot, right? I told you, just call me if the medicines ran out."

YAN! VILLAIN:8.5/10

Eros did come from the modern era, and was astounded by the bad sanitary items in this era. Magic is the new technology, but they can't even make decent sanitary pads? Unbelievable. So you know he made it a business opportunity. It was taboo talk, period that is. Noble lords found it vulgar, some noble women too, but they ultimately gave in and was surprised by it's effectiveness than just.... Cloth. When asked, he will answer that he made the pad just for your needs. And you know that this man spoils you a lot with the profits.

"See? That's better than those flimsy cloths. it feels comfortable, right? Without it worrying if it will untie. It's just for you, my duchess."

YAN! POLITICIAN:6.5/10

With how busy he is, he's probably not around you that much when you're on your period. BUT he will be giving you what you need and want. He will be absent, sure, but he always have the cctv camera rolling to see if you're in pain, in need of food, or new sanitary items. And if he sees that you need something, he will be ordering somebody to buy you things.

"I saw that you needed medicine. So I let my vice mayor bring it to you. Don't worry, he's compensated. I'm just glad you're not in pain anymore."

YAN! MAFIA BOSS:8/10

Surprisingly, Hades is really good at taking care of you on your period. His men will be errand boys on your beck and call. He will be extra careful with you, maybe a bit too much. He will princess carry you if you want. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner in bed? Yes! Hot compress always hot, and entertainment will be always with you. If you want, his men will entertain you too. But then, it will be a bad idea cuz if you laughed at this men's antics... His jealousy will trigger.

"You good? You need to eat... A what? I don't think that's available here, love but hey, nothing that I can't get. Just wait for me, love. I'll just order my men to find it here."

[double-0h-no]

With Blackbirds following

I... was very preoccupied with finally finishing my weekly report and thus forgot to post today's (technically yesterday's) fic (I didn't go to bed yet so it doesn't count, right?)

My prompt fill for the last Whump prompt, "paralysis", and @thestalwartheart 's prompt, "birdwatching".

Mac, I'm sure you envisioned something entirely different (and fluffier) for this, but the plot bunnies ran away with me and… this happened. I really hope you do like it at least a bit, though.

on ao3

If birds were omens, Q sure hadn't figured out their meaning yet.

"Did you know that American robins look vastly different from our European ones? It's because their robins are thrushes, and ours belong to the vague genus of song birds."

: : : : : : : : : :

It happened in January.

A cold, miserable month that was mostly wet. Q had been at home, taking some much needed time to clean the litter box. It was Riley who called him, and later he'd wonder whether she'd been called for help, or whether she'd merely volunteered to call him.

There wasn't much he could do, he mused as he was sitting on the kitchen floor, totally numb and staring into the void. It would take another day until Bond was in London, if the medical staff in Beirut would clear him for transport, and that seemed to be a big if.

He had only been called once before because Bond had suffered an injury. Once in four years that Q had signed off on being Bond's next of kin, et cetera. Once. Now twice.

: : : : : : : : : :

Robins had always been his favourite kind of birds. They were small and round and had pretty colours, and you could even find them in the city, other than bullfinches. And he’d always preferred Robin over Batman.

: : : : : : : : : :

The first call of this sort had been on a sunny Saturday morning, and Q had been asleep in his way too empty bed. Relief had flooded him like a tidal wave, because James had been MIA for days by then and they were all rather sure he'd been captured. Q had only been home because he'd needed sleep. That 009 would seize this exact opportunity to free James was just the world showing Q how little of a fuck it gave.

That call had been the sweetest thing.

The aftermath had been bad. Once the initial relief had ebbed, the worry had taken over, but they'd made it, both of them, it was all good. That first call had been to tell him that James was safe, above all else. That he was seriously injured and would need extra care for some time seemed like the fine print, in comparison.

: : : : : : : : : :

Q loved owls, too. It was a bit cliché, which was part of the reason he never led with owls, but they did fascinate him; their nigh silent hunt, their mobility, their night vision, and yes, in a way their beauty. How they came in so many shapes and sizes and colours. It wasn't the best-founded fascination.

: : : : : : : : : :

While back then, the overwhelming relief of James being found had overpowered Q's worry, right now worry was all there was. He'd never been called in because of how seriously James was injured. He'd simply come to expect it whenever James got home. He so rarely made it out scot-free.

The first time in four years.

He couldn't feel his face, and the tips of his fingers had gone numb, too. Daphne seemed to sense that something was off and climbed into his lap, precariously balanced on his thigh, and started making biscuits.

Four years.

He swallowed harshly. He didn't know why that number was so important. And if it were ten years, it would always be one day too short.

He only hoped that it would all be fine.

: : : : : : : : : :

The first time it came up, they met on the roof of MI6. It was a rare occurrence - ever since Q-branch had moved to the old tunnels, it was quite a-ways to get back to the rooftop, and so Q only found himself up there after particularly bad meetings.

Bond had been more surprised to see him than the other way around.

"Wouldn't have picked you as one for such vile vices," he commented while lighting his own cigarette.

Q snorted. "Just goes to show how much you know."

He'd cocked an eyebrow. "Really, Q? What else could you be tempted with?"

It was a testament to how horrible his day had been so far that he answered at all: "Oh, sex, drugs, rock'n'roll. The usual."

He could feel James' eyes on him while he stared over the Thames in the vague direction of the Tate and took another drag of his cigarette.

"Well, I could certainly provide two of those. Unfortunately, I'm not musically gifted."

Q didn't bother to suppress the smile at the shameless flirting. It was nice, in a way. Comfortable. "My self-respect might allow me an occasional cigarette, but I'm afraid that's where it draws the line."

Even from the corner of his eye he could see Bond's grim expression transform into a smile.

A loud bang came from the construction site below and a flock of birds took flight.

"Bloody pigeons," Bond cursed, hiding badly that the sound, not unlike a gunshot at all, had startled him.

"Crows, actually," Q mused, watching the black mass fly over the water. "Carrion crows if my eyes don't deceive me, and my eyesight truly isn't the best. A murder of crows, if you believe in such antiquated terms."

"You've made your dismissal of those terms abundantly clear."

"What? Oh, no, I'm rather fond of them, no matter how bloody and archaic. A murder of crows, an unkindness of ravens, a parliament of owls... It's so very English," he added with derision, and the smile was back on Bond's face.

"Careful with that, Quartermaster, or I might feel inclined to give you a shove."

Q snorted. "Ah, yes, apologies, the SIS building might be the wrong place to express my less than patriotic tendencies. Whatever could I do next? Take the Lord's name in vain?" He didn't roll his eyes, but it was a close thing.

When he looked over at Bond, he almost choked on the smoke filling his lungs. It was such an unguarded expression Q wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. Sure, he did see the hints of a smile every once in a while, or the carefully guarded admiration he sometimes showed Q's creation, but this smirk was all that cranked up to eleven.

It was quite charming, actually.

The crows cawed on the nearby bridge.

: : : : : : : : : :

It was worse than Q had thought. Better, too, in a way, but Q didn't much care for the brighter angle. It didn't help anyone to say that technically, very little was broken. Only one bone, plus a shrapnel wound. That didn't sound too bad. It was also completely disregarding the fact that the one bone and the shrapnel had unfortunately been in his spinal region.

: : : : : : : : : :

A mission in Brazil, some weeks after the crows, probably, but certainly before the local bird conversation:

"I feel out of place. Or at least underdressed, and that's not something that happens often," 007 lamented via comms.

Q furrowed his brows in confusion. Then: "You won't get me to ask what you are wearing, but shouldn't you be alone?"

Bond huffed a laugh. "Wasn't my intention, quartermaster, and I'd rather be alone with you, but alas, a bunch of birds has decided to settle down close to me, and they're causing a huge ruckus. At least I'm sure I can't be heard."

"And that the noise suppression of your mic truly has improved," Q hummed in agreement. "What birds are they?"

"Don't know, haven't asked," Bond muttered.

"Describe them to me?" At least it was a distraction from the flirting.

"Pink birds with funny beaks." 

"Ah." He wasn't quite fast enough to swallow down a sound of recognition.

"You know what they are?"

Q shrugged, unbeknownst to Bond. "I have an educated guess, considering where you are and the pointed description you gave me, I'd say roseate spoonbills. I understand why you're feeling underdressed. Their plumage can be quite impressive. They, too, like flamingos, get their pink colouration from the food they ingest."

"I will not start eating small crabs to meet their style," Bond joked, and Q had to bite his lip to not laugh.

"Yes, well, I'll leave that decision up to you. Back to my initial question: Is there anything else you require?"

: : : : : : : : : :

The nerves weren't completely severed. Which, apparently, was neither a good nor a bad thing, it just was. Even though the general opinion was that neural injuries did very little healing on their own, that didn't mean they did none, so it wasn't yet possible to be able to gauge the full extent of James' injuries.

: : : : : : : : : :

Sometimes Q sat down next to Velma, when she was staring out the window into the backyard. She had her special little place from which she watched the birds in the bushes, and Q thought it to be important to show interest in her hobbies.

"Meow."

"Really, a magpie? Haven't seen one of those in a while now, have we?"

"Meow."

"You're right, must be because it's autumn now."

"Chrrrp."

: : : : : : : : : :

He didn't talk. For weeks on end, he didn't talk to Q at all. He hadn't been faring well in Medical, but he had for maybe the first time in his life listened to the staff and done what he'd been told, including the resting bit, and Q thought it would be a relief for him to return home.

It wasn't.

James stopped talking after that. The wheelchair remained standing next to his bedside, untouched, and Q resorted to being his caretaker, and with every passing day he could see James resent him a bit more. 

: : : : : : : : : :

Only two months after... Well. After they… couldn’t deny their attachment anymore, and unanimously so, might be the most apt description. But after was enough, too. Only two months after, James brought him up to Skyfall. Q hadn't known where they were going when James had told him to get in the car, but watching their route on the satnav, he felt himself transported back all those years to his very first mission with James, planting bread crumbs along this very trail for a man who wasn't more than a note in a file anymore.

Once he'd figured it out, he just relaxed back into his seat and let James drive. His driving wasn't horrible when he made an effort.

He was surprised how little there was left. Somehow, he'd assumed that a large manor like Skyfall wouldn't be able to just burn down like that.

"Do you know how to hunt?", James asked, and Q tutted.

"I don't know what it was that gave you the impression, but I am one hundred percent a city child. It's a wonder I've seen a forest from among the trees, really."

James had shot him one of his half-smiled, the kind that was oddly appreciative of both his self-derision and grandeur in equal parts.

Then he tossed Q a hunting rifle. Q caught it more out of reflex than conscious decision, but then he examined it with greater interest and admiration. He could easily make out that it was older and well-cared for, and it had a small, circular metal plate with the initials AB.

"Your father's?"

James nodded.

"It's a beautiful thing. Not as well-adjusted as your Walther, of course, but I doubt you'd take that out into the woods with you."

Again the half-smile. "I don't know. Let's find out."

To say that they went hunting would be an exaggeration of circumstances. Mostly they went hiking, and Q couldn't help but marvel at the landscape around them. It truly was beautiful, and he found that he didn't mind the light drizzle half as much as he did in London.

At one point, they heard the oddest of sounds, a deep clucking, a bit like the call of a stag, followed by skittering sounds, and Q put his hand on Bond's elbow to halt.

"That sounds like a capercaillie."

James cocked an eyebrow. "How do you know? Thought you didn't get out of the city?"

Q shrugged. "I didn't. But their call is sort of unique, don't you think?"

They both listened into the silence, until that odd call sounded again, and James nodded slowly. "You might be right on both accounts. This sounds like a capercaillie. And it really is a hard sound to forget."

Along their trek, they saw many more birds, far more than Q ever saw in London, but he bit his tongue about it and instead tried to figure out the puzzle that was James.

: : : : : : : : : :

The big crash came, like Q had always feared it would. He'd never been more afraid for James' life. And it went exactly like expected: A truly dangerous amount of alcohol and tears. And the very pointed absence of an ultimatum.

Q had thought about it hard and long - whether it would maybe get a reaction from James if he threatened to leave. Because he couldn't do this eternally. It was ruining him, chipping away like an untalented sculptor with hammer and chisel, always taking just a bit more than they'd intended, and he felt himself wasting away in time with Bond, always keeping pace.

He would do it anyway. Unless James finally started communicating with him, he would not wither in his care of the man he loved.

And either James dealt with it, or he bloody well did something about it.

: : : : : : : : : :

Q had an odd fascination with vultures. They truly weren't the prettiest among them all, but they were huge, with majestic wingspans that only truly managed to impress him when he was an adult, though really, they should have intimidated him when he was a boy who could have been easily scooped up by them.

For all their bad reputation, they were invaluable to the food chain.

Also, bearded vultures could swallow and digest bones so well it was considered the main part of their diet, and who wouldn't be floored by that?

: : : : : : : : : :

James cooperated more after that, but he still didn't talk.

He allowed Q to take care of him, with all the indignities involved, and he followed the instructions of his physical therapist, with whom Q could only assume he talked because Geoffrey didn't complain anymore.

: : : : : : : : : :

"You'll once again use your cover as Richard Starling. I always found it oddly fitting, you know? Seeing as starlings are renowned for their ability to mimic other bird calls and blend into their surroundings."

: : : : : : : : : :

One day, Q came home from work and James was sitting in his wheelchair at the window, looking out with Velma, watching birds fly by.

: : : : : : : : : :

On the few occasions Q dragged himself out to the cemetery, he always brought some bird seeds.

"He really liked them, you know?", he told James, the first and only time he asked him to come along.

James hadn't asked any questions. Had not asked whether it was a security risk that he visited these graves. Had not asked who they were, or what had happened. It was all obvious enough.

His parents and younger brother were long since dead. And he should never be here. But he couldn't help the visit on Juno's birthday. He never brought flowers, only left the bird seeds.

"I like to think he enjoys having them all come to him."

Even though for the most part, there were only blackbirds.

: : : : : : : : : :

"All right, get dressed, we're heading out."

Because if they didn't, Q had the distinct feeling that he might go stir crazy.

James complied with the same resignation that he'd brought to the table for weeks now, and it really just made the restless unease in Q’s chest curl up to transform into a ball of rage. James bloody Bond was a lot of things, but not compliant.

Q borrowed a car from his branch and drove out of London, out into the woods to the very end of a forestry road where he stopped the pickup and settled in on its cargo bed, with James as his begrudging companion.

Though it had been a spontaneous decision, Q had come prepared. He'd brought several blankets for when it inevitably got cold, various thermoses with tea and mulled wine and coffee, enough food to get them through at least twelve hours, not that he intended to stay so long, and all the medical equipment that he'd gotten used to carrying around for James' sake.

It was, admittedly, a wretched time to watch birds or literally anything out in the wild except for falling foliage. It was late autumn, the trees had barely any leaves left, and a lot of the birds had migrated south.

Yet Q relished the peaceful quiet of the woods, and the stars that appeared far earlier than expected. When James shuddered next to him, he turned to him in concern.

"You cold?"

James shook his head. "No."

It took Q all his strength to nod and settle back in, even though his heart was in his throat.

Some five minutes later, a familiar bird called. "That's a barn owl somewhere close by," Q said absent-mindedly.

The next day, James did his physical exercises on his own, with renewed determination.

: : : : : : : : : :

They drove out to the woods every weekend after that.

: : : : : : : : : :

Q's great-aunt, an admirable lady of a woman, had had a grey parrot as a pet, and Q had delighted over it. It was the cleverest little thing he'd ever seen, and he could play with him and teach him tricks and never grow tired of it.

His great-aunt had also had a deep love for detective dramas on the television, which meant that the only sentences the parrot spoke were straight out of Agatha Christie's feather.

“Show me your hands!”

“Murder!”

“It wasn’t me. No no. It wasn’t me.”

Q still wasn't sure which delighted him more.

: : : : : : : : : :

A year after the accident, Q drove them all the way up to Scotland, though far away from Skyfall, all the way up north to Thurso where they took the ferry to Stromness. From there, still further up, until he found a nice parking spot near Birsay. While Q carried their backpack, James took his crutches and they walked towards the edge off the cliff and settled down in the grass, a spot with a great view that was more or less sheltered from the wind.

"Did you know that puffins are pretty bad fliers? You can't much see it during flight, but they need to flap their wings a lot to stay airborne, and their landings tend to be atrocious in terms of posture."

James snorted. "Take a long walk off a short cliff and we'll see how you fare."

Q rolled his eyes and got the thermos with his tea from the backpack.

To say that the winter had brought miracles would be a step too far, but things were looking cautiously optimistic. James had regained enough mobility to move on his crutches - the right leg was totally numb but in the left leg, he could at least move his joints, though with far less precision than before. His limp was obvious and his gait drew attention, but he could move around upright again, not totally immobile, which was more than either of them had dared hope for. 

"But they can dive up to sixty metres deep into the sea."

James hummed and wrangled the backpack into his lap to search for the second thermos with his coffee. "How long can they hold their breath?"

"Longer than you," Q said deadpan, and a devious glint appeared in James' eyes.

"You weren't complaining last night."

He wanted to complain, but he couldn't. Especially when they drove out like this, just to be outside together and marvel at some birds, Q could still hardly believe he got to have this again.

"They also chatter a lot while on shore, but at sea, they're mostly silent. And usually, they mate for life."

[damnedrainbows]

Kitty headcanons for Husk. Husk has something that Niffty refers to as ‘full kitteh mode’, where his feline instincts take over. This can be a day where his instinctual feline behavior is strong, or it can be something that simply triggers it, such as seeing a laser light.

He detests it and has a hard time controlling it, and Alastor, Niffty, and Angel have been the most frequent victims of it

Zoomies. He had his first zoomie when in Alastor’s manor and a hell fly flew into the window. At first Alastor thought it was the funniest shit ever until this like a thousand pound lion ended up breaking so much of his shit

Making biscuits. When nesting comfortably against a loved one he will sometimes make biscuits unconsciously.

Grooming. He has tried licking his family. If you’re anyone he sees as ‘kin’ you’re not safe. Niffty and Angel are the most common victim-Angel because he’s his partner, and Niffty because he kind of sees her as (in those moments) his kitten. Alastor too as a begrudging friend. Neither men like to discuss it

He does the head butt thing that cats do, but sometimes too aggressively and has knocked over whoever he does it too

His eyes dilate if you catch his eye with the rapid movement of something and he’ll find his tail raising and his body lowering.

He’ll swipe things off of the counter at times, pushing off glasses and bottles.

Alastor enjoyed teasing his cat behavior by summoning things like laser lights and feather toys to humiliate him, but it backfired miserably when this made it harder to get him out of ‘full kitteh mode’ and he found himself a frequent target

If he falls asleep or gets startled, he’ll make the little cat activation ‘beep’ sounds

Alastor and Niffty have had to drag him for a hellbies shot

He does not like water and needs to be dragged to take a bath

He’ll scratch at your door if he wants your attention

Alastor learned about cats and cucumbers and he never found peace again

His tail is a dead give away of how he’s feeling, as it curls and twitches and droops the way a cat’s tail does

[howiekingpupper]

Headcanon that Howie bakes cookies in the shape of cog biscuits. Also Ally and Howie baking cookies together would be cute. (Sorry for spamming asks, you’ve got me in the Howial mindset right now)

DO NOT APOLOGIZE I live for the content

THATS SO ADORABLE... kin euphoria from eating cog biscuits.....I love it 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💞💞💞💞💞💞 he would be so happy

[tescyn-james-elliot]

INTRO- meow ;3

HIHI i amNyx, my main rp blog is @serial-designation-jey, i follow back from there so if u wanna be my mutual, go there, i am a minor, i love cats, i kin Tessa, Cyn, V, J, and Doll :3

ABSOLUTE SOLVER/TESCYN SPEECH WILL BE IN ORANGE

CYN SPEECH WILL BE IN BLUE

tags

#Tessa Speaks > for responding to rp's/asks

#Tess Mod > mod/me is talking

#Tescyn Talks > when im doing cyn/tescyn bits

#Cyn Screams > ..........absolute control AU

copy and paste intro from my J blog bc im lazy vv

below are made by biscuit :3

DNI if:

Homophobic in any way

Pedophile

Proshipper

Zoophile

You enjoy sexual MD content (suggestive is okay)

My MD ships in order by favorites:

V x J (i love this one a LOT)

Doll x Lizzy

Oilybells (regulars will know)

V x Lizzy

N x Uzi

I WILL NOT ASSOCIATE WITH N x V

Other info:

Im a minor

Female

Omni+asexual

Undiagnosed ADHD

Anxiety

Fandoms im in:

wednesday

murder drones

the owl house

fundamental paper education

Tadc

Warrior cats

Fnaf

[floriansfurryfantasies]

Between Bramble & Briar. Home for Yule ~ Part One. (SFW)

AUTHOR NOTE: This episode is a cute, cosy, and SFW (a smidge suggestive, in parts) glimpse into the Blackthorn's traditional Yuletide family festivities.

WORD COUNT: 2442

TAGLIST: @caxycreations

Let me know if you'd like to be added to BBB's tag list.

Over the crackled, charcoal surface of the Yule log, amber flames flickered. Beneath, the ember glowed. The fire would burn all night, slowly consuming the feast of its fat log. Downey Cottage would be kept warm and cosy throughout this, the longest night.

This time of year was truly one for feasting. Ada Blackthorn had spent four months stowing away Yuletide provisions in her pantry, as she did every year until the time was right to spend three days preparing her traditional feast. The shortest day of the year was one in which the Blackthorn's spent the most time eating. From pies and nut roasts to cakes, biscuits and buns, platters of crackers, conserves, and cheese, the sideboard in the kitchen was laden with many delicious treats. Ermine's part to play began in the cellar in late August when he'd harvested all the fruit and barley he required to make his meads and wines. This annual tradition usually ended with the old mouse, drunk and singing himself to sleep in his armchair, come dawn after he'd shared all the fables and tales he could muster.

Taking after his found father, with a full belly and what remained of his mulled wine in hand, Arthur retired to the Blackthorn's couch.

It was a given that he'd been invited to share in their festivities, yet he could never escape being the odd one out. Now, the nest of some two dozen merry mice had left their abode to watch the Battle of the Holly and Oak Kings—as was tradition. It was being reenacted in a little coppice of trees on the way out of the hamlet toward his own village: Briarbury. Furfolk from four villages around gathered to watch as the moon hung high in the mid-winter sky. All bundled up and full of food and cheer, glad that the rebirth of the sun was upon them. But tonight, Arthur didn't plan to join in.

Downing the last mouthful of his mulled wine, he found it cool and less pleasant, but it couldn't put a dampener on an otherwise pleasant day.

At ten o'clock, he'd pulled in at Briarbury train station from Dornbury. He always closed The Sanctuary during Yuletide.

From there, it was a short walk home to change his clothes and shed his Florian facade. Then, another walk, only a few minutes more, into Hedgley Woodhouse to Downey Cottage.

Beneath his feet, a dusting of snow chilled his paws, but the scarf about his neck kept the wind from biting. He anticipated that the Blackthorn's home would be as scorching as July. The range would have been on all the day prior and perhaps even through the night. Ermine would have already stoked the fire in the living room, ready to receive the Yule log, not to mention the number of bodies bustling about the home.

And he was right—the place was heaving! All the Blackthorn children and their spouses had arrived. He could have sworn there were more pups every year.

Letting himself in through the front door, he ducked inside and was immediately hit by an overload of stimuli: the chatter and laughter, the smell of home cooking, and the heat! It was the same every year, and every year, it filled his heart with gladness to be a part of it all. This was true family life. This was his secret dream, and each Yule, he got to immerse himself in the illusion that it was his own.

"Aup, Art! S'good to see you. Keeping well?" A familiar face greeted, thrusting a warm furless paw into his and giving it as hearty a shake as a five-foot mouse could muster. It was one of the Blackthorn brothers.

Weaving his way down the hall, he was met with a warm welcome from every mouse he came across and stripped of his coat and scarf by the mice that felt like kin.

"Make yourself at home."

"Mam! Artie is here!" Someone called toward the kitchen.

"How goes business then?" A mouse asked, pulling his pipe from his lips and allowing a plume of smoke to be free of his snout.

"Dad has outdone himself with the mead this year, mate. Here, get some down ya." A pint of brown was put into his hand.

"I heard there was some nasty business in Dornbury–"

"–Oh, damned rats causing trouble again, is it?"

"Wouldn't surprise me."

"Did you hear about it, Artie?"

"Go on, get on wi'ya! Leave the poor lad be!" Ada's usually gentle voice barked through the cacophony when she appeared in the hallway. Although she stood barely four feet tall, the portly and bonny-looking mouse was the Queen of her castle. She had raised a nest of mouse pups—five boys as wild and roving as brambles. She wasn't to be messed with—a maternal veteran with a heart of gold and nerves of steel.

Once she'd wiped her dainty paws on her floral pinny, she reached up for Arthur's arm and pulled him to her. She didn't have to ask; he knew the drill and leaned down so she could brush her fingers through the trim of his cheek fur and give him a kiss.

"Lovely to have you home, sweetheart." Her smile plumped her rosy cheeks as she spoke.

"Sorry, chaps, I'll catch you later." Arthur looked back apologetically, though internally glad of the rescue. He was led through a passage under the stairs, past the cellar door, and down a step into the kitchen.

"Offf, what a rabble." Ada tittered, rolling her blackberry eyes. "I've got a bramley pie in here with your name on it, love. I've been batting them off like flies all morning."

Arthur laughed. Mrs Blackthorn always let him have the first slice, seeing as it was his favourite flavour pie. That warm feeling he adored, dare he call it motherly love, filled his chest.

"Ad–"

"Ah ah! Less of that young man." She wouldn't abide him calling her by her given name.

"Mam–" he corrected, his ears folded bashfully. "–but it's not even lunchtime yet."

"Suit yourself. But I can't keep them off it much longer. It'll be gone by lunch and cold, too, if you don't tuck in now."

The heat gathered the closer they got to the range. Now, standing on the kitchen's terracotta tiles, the chill in his paws had thawed completely. He scrunched his toes into his pads, enjoying how the numbness melted into toasty warmth.

Most of the family's women were gathered around the kitchen table. Their chatter was lilting and choral.

Upon the lap of one such sister sat a pretty little pup. Her single curl tied in a crimson bow between the dishlike ears she had years to grow into, and the pretty broadie anglaise frills of her frock matched in colour. She was indeed a beauty. Her beady eyes peered at him through the crowd of her kin like ripe damsons. Perhaps he was the first ferret she had ever seen, but the sweet little thing wasn't frightened of how he towered over her aunts; instead, she beamed, grinning with only her two front teeth to show for it.

Her fixation on him turned a few heads, and then a new wave of welcomes began.

"Aw Arthur, it's good to see you love."

He was beckoned to sit at the table and nudged along by Mrs Blackthorn, who presented him with a fat slice of bramley pie accompanied by a mountain of whipped cream.

"Ya' keeping well?" Someone asked, rubbing his back to warm him to the seat he'd found.

"That big city is being kind, I hope." His mead was pushed aside the moment he set it down. A cup and saucer took its place, and from over the table, one of the sisters poured him a cup of tea from the pot that had been steeping. Another sister added a spoonful of sugar, and then another furnished his saucer with an oat and raisin biscuit that neared the size of the saucer itself.

"Oh, yes, especially with all that ratty business that's been in the paper."

"We don't have to talk about that, do we?" The mother of the pup scowled as she handed her baby over.

Without question, Arthur took hold of the infant and smiled down at her as she began to coo.

"Isn't she a beauty?" A familiar voice chirped from behind. Searching for a face, he found her to his right—Lillie Blackthorn, the youngest of the Blackthorn siblings, though she was by no means the baby of the family anymore. She was a woman now—he wished he hadn't noticed.

Usually, Lillie would have stood a foot below his shoulder, but as he was sitting, they were about the same height. Her treacle-coloured eyes glistened as they caught the cool winter sunlight pouring in through the window, and they warmed it. Her smile was warmer still.

"Uh, yes, a beauty. I think I'm in love."

"With a mouse?" A few of the women giggled in unison.

"What're you like, Arthur? You're so funny." They shook their heads at the comedy.

"He'd be potty to not fall for our little Lottie." The mother cooed as she tapped the twitchy pink nose of her pup. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"She is absolutely adorable." Lillie joined in the giggling but couldn't deflect Arthur from noticing how her ears twitched backwards before she centred herself. For a while, he'd been wondering what all the little mannerisms, one-second displays of disappointment, crest falleness, sorrow, and yearning summed up to mean. He hoped he was reading her wrong. His assumption, if proven, would be devastating.

Pulling up a stool, Lillie wedged herself between one of her sisters and Arthur and stole the biscuit from his saucer without a care. It looked like she was fine, after all. There's no need for him to worry... Or so he thought...

"You know, not everyone Mates their own kind these days," Lillie announced.

"Being at that University is going to your head, girl." Her sister yoinked at her ear. Their disapproval was real but gently spoken, with concern, love, and a little bit of comedy to help it go down.

"You'll think differently when you meet the right mouse." Another said.

Arthur kept quiet, now four spoonfuls into the bramley pie. He licked the tart-tasting, jammy juices from his lips and sipped his tea. It washed it all down quite pleasantly.

"And before you know it, you're married and have a pup on the way."

"What if I have kits instead?" Lillie asked nonchalantly, rhetorically, as she tickled her niece's chin.

Amidst the chorus of cackles—as if she had cracked the century's funniest joke—Arthur felt a tail slip over the top of his thigh beneath the table. It came from his right-hand side, which meant it was Lillie's. As if her comment hadn't been enough, a tightness took over his hips, and his tail bolted straight as the bushy tip of hers flicked further into his inner thigh. It was all too much! It caused the last mouthful of his tea to burble back up his throat and ensnared him—sending him into a fit of coughing and spluttering into a closed fist, unable to keep any composure. Wide and bewildered, his eyes found Lillie, who grinned deviously. Those treacle eyes had darkened salaciously as she peered up at him through her lashes. It was only for a second, but he couldn't mistake the desire in them. What did that mean?

Then, her nose twitched, and like a switch had been flipped, a musical thrill of innocent girlish giggles came from her.

"It's just a thought. Things are different in the city. You see all sorts there."

"Well, never you mind what happens in the city. The city isn't for girls like you, my Lil' Liza." Ada's hand found her daughter's shoulder as she placed a slice of pie before her and kissed the back of her ear lovingly. "You get your education and come right on home to where you belong. Tommy isn't going to wait forever."

Thomas Barlstep—Lillie's ex-boyfriend. A barley field mouse and son of Ermine's Skittles club and school pal, Frances Barlstep. Tommy was held in high regard by the Blackthorn's. He was an ol' country boy, a hard-working barley farmer like his father. He lived up to his family name and was a sunny sort of fellow, if not a bit simple. But he was kind and seemed a fit husband for their precious youngest daughter, who they thought needed her wild taming—a bumpkin would do just right.

The conversation erupted into how sweet Tommy was, how good a match he was, and how impressive his show of strength at that year's summer fate was. While her mother and sisters were distracted, Arthur noticed how Lillie sighed. How she toyed with her food rather than attempt to eat even a spoonful and the biscuit she'd pinched lay on the table missing only two bites.

"I've brought you a present." Arthur leant down to whisper near her ear as he laid his paw over the brush of her tail, which was still on his thigh.

Her closest ear flicked back to home in on his voice, and a moment later, her eyes found his. "Me too. It's in Dad's study." Lillie grinned, the inners of her ears flushing pinker. Meanwhile, her tail coiled over his fingers in an embrace. "Let's sneak out."

Arthur clutched onto her tail a bit tighter to dissuade her from leaving her seat just yet. "I've not finished my pie, and neither have you."

Although he could tell she really wanted to roll her eyes, instead, she resigned and enthusiastically dug a fork into the crust and finished Arthur's tea while she was at it. Lapping the fruity filling from her lips and dusting the crumbs from her snout, she blinked up at Arthur to see if he was finally satisfied enough to leave.

"Come on, before Vince gets here and whisks you away." Lillie's whispy tail eagerly coiled Arthur's wrist as she rose from the table to lead him away.

There was no way his leaving could be discreet. As he stood, he towered above the table and its occupants, the tips of his ears only an inch shy of the overhead beams.

"Where are you two off to?" Ada asked, though not accusatory or suspicious, just curious.

"We've got some books to share," Arthur explained with a simple smile.

"It's for school, Mammy."

"Alright, sweetheart. If you see your father, tell him there's a slice of pie for him in here."

[dreaming-of-mogai]

[ID: Nine gifs. The first one is purple slime with holographic stars. The second one is someone swinging their feet over the bed, they are wearing purple pants and have purple socks with moons and stars on them.

The third gif is a purple bar of soap being cut. The fourth gif is someone unzipping and zipping the Catnap plush's belly. The middle and fifth gif is an animation of Catnap from the Smiling Critters cartoon. The sixth gif is the same Catnap plush being gently squished by its cheeks.

The seventh gif is someone petting some soft fluffy light purple yarn. The eighth gif is a blue crescent moon ear ring holder, and the nineth gif is a pink Sphinx cat making biscuits on a soft grey blanket. End of ID.]

☆ Catnap stimboard!!!

Made for ;; No one. Completely self indulgent.

[ID: a medium pink with light pink banner with dark pink text that reads "DNI: Anti Endos, Anti MSPEC gays/lesbians, Anti Furry, Anti Therians, Anti Kin/IRL, Discourse, etc." It also has Pink Diamond from Steven Universe both on the left and the right. End of ID]

Credit:

@/kels-orange-joe

@/secure-contain-phuck

@/stimmypaints

4, 5 and 6. @/ghostbunny-stims

7. @/stimsbyme

8. @/zephyraes

9. @/whimsy-stimsy

[deardiary1899]

exams just ended so now i get to talk abt race (ft. Jack Kelly) again

Race is kind of a jokester. He's kinda goofy, silly even. But, I think by essence, he's a practical person and because I kin jack kelly™, he's the opposite of jack.

Jack Kelly and Racetrack Higgins look out the windows of the lodging house and they see the world, but they never look through the same window.

Jack Kelly sees a world that he can dream of, and that he can *be* in. When you're a lone boy with a dead dad and a deadline to meet everyday, every week, every month-- he feels so small. He feels so insignificant, stuck. So, when Jack Kelly sees the ever-changing streets of Manhattan, he wants to change too. So if he can't move in Manhattan, what better way to change, than at a place you can? When he looks past the buildings, the cement, and the crumpled, fishy smell pile of papers in the trash (yesterday's news), he sees a world outside New York.

Racetrack Higgins sees a world he's in, and it's a world he's always moving in. Race doesn't have time for dreams when he's pushing to sell 106 papes in the morning, only to push an extra 60 in the evening. He doesn't have time to dream when he's thinking of the best day of the best week to buy a matching pair of socks, or even one pack of biscuits that hasn't softened, or grew suspicious molds around it. He doesn't shy away from it, because he knows he can't, so he just has to accept it and live to the best way a boy his age could be-- it's hardly close to any of the more privileged kids, but he finds meaning in everything he does, and he finds so much worth in the people around him for that.

So, maybe that's why Jack always runs away. Maybe that's why Jack can't help but hide at his penthouse, drinking in the sunset, barely any regard to the buildings below him-- Santa Fe might have better ones. Maybe that's why Race is the second-in-command, because he can't run away, knowing he's still in the same world of dirty clothing, cigarettes and greedy adults. Maybe that's why he can't help but place a bet or two, because at least he should have some kind of fun while doing it.