#I once heard a dog try to bite a box turtle and it was one of the worst noises I’ve ever heard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ask-an-aussie · 4 years ago

Text

Aussie Wildlife FAQ

So here's questions I'm frequently asked as both a wildlife rescuer and carer and keeper at a wildlife sanctuary. Heads up, this is a long post, I've made the questions stick out so you can easily skip through. I've tried to make it as easy to read as possible, and to find what you're after, whilst also providing lots of info.

Poison Vs Venom, what's the difference?

Well, mostly, poison just never stops killing. Like if you poison an insect, then a bird or small mammal eats that insect and they slowly get poisoned by all the poisoned insects they eat, then something eats them, like an owl, and that gets poisoned, then as it rots the poison goes into the environment, etc. Poison never dies. Venom has to be injected, so yes you can be envenomated by a dead animal, if you are stupid. Poison can be inhaled, eaten/drunk or even through touch. So if a cow is poisoned you have to dispose of the body safely, if a cow is bitten by a venomous snake, technically you can still have steak for dinner.

Are all Australian animals out to kill you?

Maybe.

They could want to kill us, I mean as a species we aren't that great. Their ability to kill us however is limited. So are all Aussie animals able to kill you? No. So we have lots of cute small mammals, like antechinus, dunnarts, pygmy possums and the like, that can bite and scratch but are very tiny bois. We even have lots of non-venomous snakes, pythons and blind snakes. Most lizards outside of Goannas can't cause too much damage. Echidna's are completely defensive, have no attack whatsoever. Lots of birds have no interest in you, unless you get near their nest. Freshwater Turtles, Little Penguins and Tawny Frogmouths all main defense is shitting really stinky shit at you. Even our venomous snakes, as long as you seek medical attention you should be fine. Considering we have the top 10 most venomous snakes in the world but average only 1 death a year that's pretty good.

But you still have lots of dangerous animals right?

Yes.

Maybe I should elaborate. Any animal is dangerous, including you, if given the right circumstances. I'm a lovely person but hurt my dog and you better run. Most animals don't want a bar of you. However, if you are a threat to them, or their babies, they will defend themselves. A lot of animals get tagged with the word 'aggressive' which I don't like, aggression is a human emotion that I've never seen in wild animals, or even pets and things. Mostly it's defensive behaviours that people read wrong. For example, the most venomous snake in the world is the Inland Taipan (found in Aust.), however the most dangerous snake in Australia is the Eastern Brown snake, less venomous but also less shy and lives in suburbia. Still, it only ever strikes at people when it feels cornered and needs to get you to back the hell off. And lets be real here, what else can they do? They can't yell and scream, they can't punch or kick. Legit their only option is to bite, and even then mostly it's a closed mouth strike to freak you out into stepping back, and most people bitten by snakes are given a 'dry bite' where no venom is injected, as they want to use it on their food not waste it on us. And 90% of snake bites that happen in Australia are people either trying to catch or kill a snake.

It's fairly simple. Don't threaten animals, don't give them a reason to be dangerous and you are fine. Crocodiles in the water? Don't swim there. Sharks around? Avoid swimming at twilight. Snake? Leave it alone. Nest with baby birds? walk away. You don't randomly show up in some strangers home and expect them not to react, so why do we expect different from animals?

What animals are on the most 'dangerous list' then? Which animals should I really avoid pissing off?

Start with the obvious. Crocodiles, venomous snakes, sharks, some jellyfish, venomous spiders, stone fish, blue ringed octopus, birds of prey (our Wedge Tailed Eagle WILL attack drones, hang-gliders and helicopters if they come into their territory) Then you've got the less obvious. Ants - like meat ants, they will swarm over you then all bite down at once. 1 bite isn't so bad, a whole colony biting you, deadly. Then there's other ants in the Myrmecia family (bull ants and the like) that are just HUGE, and have massive mandables for biting and also can sting you, and are one of the most toxic insects in the world.

Wombats - Can run at 40km/hr, skull so hard it's the only thing a Tassie Devil can't eat, able to bite your calf muscle clean off your leg, oh and they have killer booty. A hard cartilage plate in their lower back that they use to block their burrows, and if threatened can lay down and as the animal tries to get past jam their legs straight and crush the skull of a fox against the roof of their burrow, easily break a dingoes jaw or even destroy your hand.

Kangaroos - yes they box, hahaha wouldn't it be funny to box with a kangaroo. NO. Kangroos box for fun but also to defend themselves and their mob. The Alpha male is the big buff one that looks like he's on steroids. He looks like that for a reason, to defend and protect his mob. DO NOT MESS WITH ANY KANGAROOs, but really don't mess with Big Daddy (for being the alpha he gets all the ladies) Kangaroos are made for this. A punch from a Kangaroo can easily break you ribs. They can lean back on their tail and bring both legs up to kick you, easily tearing you open, which they can do with the claws on their toes, and so basically dissecting you from sternum down. Oh and if they gran you round the neck for a 'Cuddle' DUCK AND RUN. They will hold you in a kind of choke hold and then bring their legs up to kick you and basically snap you in half. Don't even mess with Wallabies man, they may be smaller but can still do damage.

Tassie Devils - are extremely shy and slower than you, like you can actually run away from them. BUT. They have the strongest bite strength compared to size of any animal. The have a PSI of 1200 and males weigh around 8 kg. For perspective, Hyenas have a PSI of 1100 and males weigh around 50kg

Brushtail Possums - They may be cuter than the American Opossums but trust me, they don't want you around. They are solitary so most people have heard them fighting of a night, screeching, shrieking, hissing, growling and making darth vadar noises. Heads up from someone who has had to rescue them from awkward places (fire-places, BBQs, closets) They are stronger than you and they will f*** you up. Even without them meaning to I've gotten injuries from my joey Brushies, they get so keen on their milk when you put it in that they climb your arm and their claws are sharper than cats. Also the sheer strength of them. I'm stronger than I look but if they are clinging on to a tree you are gonna need all your strength to get them off. The can also bite your finger clean off. And I've seen injuries from people who feed wild ones and for some reason have been late to put out the food or something and they've climbed their leg or even jumped on them - stitches were required in a few of those cases (human skin is not thick like tree bark)

What's with Magpies and swooping?

Simple, they have nests/babies and are protecting them. Australia Magpies are very smart and can recognise faces. If they think you are a threat they will try and scare you off. Just like if you're walking along with your toddler and there's a weirdo doing something strange you hold the kid tighter and closer to you and move through faster. But these guys can't just move their nests or their babies. The spot is chosen based on food availability and shelter from sun and rain, but also not being too cold. It's their spot. I've never been swooped by Magpies, other birds yes, but not Magpies. My local birds know me as the lady that cleans and fills the bird bath. Legit the Magpies sing a specific song when it needs filling to call me out to do it. So don't be a threat. If they are swooping in that area, try to avoid it or go through quickly. We used to have Plovers at my school, in the bush at the end of the oval. Never a problem. One day some kids go into the bush and stomp on their nest and eggs. After that they would swoop anyone who came close to there. So the school blocked off that end of the oval. Fair call. Wasn't the birds fault.

Why is everything named so basic?

Oh you mean the snake that's black with a red belly being balled a Red Belly Black Snake, and the tree with all the doodles on it being called a Scribbly Gum? 80% of plants and animals found in Australia are found NO WHERE ELSE. So the early Europeans had a lot of things to name and when they tried naming it themselves they would get it wrong. 2 good examples are: The Death Adder (only considered highly venomous, not deadly, and not an Adder). Also you're only likely to get bitten if you stand on it or try to pick it up. The Australian Magpie, they saw a black and white bird so it must be a magpie. Nope. Actually not in the corvidae family but in the butcherbird family - Artamidae. So their solution was to either take the Aboriginal word, for example, Quoll, Kookaburra, Koala, Quokka, Taipan. Or name it after what it looks like/sounds like/ is found Boobook Owl - makes a sound like booooo-book Squirrel Glider Eastern Water Dragon Grey Headed Flying Fox Flaky Bark Tea Tree Old man Banksia This can cause confusion though as not every brown coloured snake is a brown snake, and not all Eastern brown snakes are brown. Squirrel Gliders aren't related to squirrels. Flying foxes are bats not actual foxes that fly.

What do I do if I find injured wildlife?

Well, depends on the wildlife and where it is. If it's in a dangerous position, like the middle of a highway, don't try anything. First thing, call a wildlife rescue group, there are plenty around and they have trained people who know what to do. A quick google search should show you all you need to know, also the IFAW's Wildlife Rescue App will identify the closest group to you.

If it's a snake, adult wombat or kangaroo, or any other animal that can cause you serious injury, leave it be. The wildlife rescuers you call can give you basic info on how to help but mostly calling them is the main thing.

If it's something smaller, like a young animal or glider or baby bird and you are able to put it into a cardboard box that will be perfect. The 3 main things injured/ill wildlife need are warmth, dark and quiet. You don't need to worry about food or water. The rescuers will organise that. If you give food or water to an animal in shock you can cause more damage.

THE BEST THING IS TO DO NOTHING. I know this sounds stupid. But so many problems can occur from people who don't know what they are doing helping out. You know what they say about good intentions. For example, picking up a Koala like you would pick up a human child (under the armpits, around the chest) you could actually break their ribs. Also so many Koalas end up needing vet care during heat waves because people pour water into their mouths - they can get pneumonia as the water goes in too fast, it is not a natural way for them to drink. You can also get yourself injured or make the animals injuries worse. I have seen Kangaroos with broken legs get up and try to hop away from people. I have seen severe scratches on other people because they tried to pick up an animal.

What diseases can wildlife give me?

Well. I only know about Australian wildlife, and it's very different to other parts of the world. If you get a bad bite or scratch from wildlife you should see your doctor ASAP, get the wound cleaned properly and make sure your tetanus is up to date (same as if a pet gives you a bad bite or scratch).

There aren't that many Zoonosis that are around in Australia that are easy to catch. Mostly you have to be dealing directly with sick wildlife to get them.

The main thing is Australian Bat Lyssavirus. ABL for short. Now our bats can carry it. About 1 in 1000 bats may have it and you HAVE to be bitten or scratched for it to be transmitted to you. If you are bitten or scratched by a bat your chance is 0.1% of getting ABL but it is related to Rabies, so head straight to hospital for treatment. If you don't touch a bat you won't get bitten or scratched and so your chance of getting it is 0. Hendra is the other virus our bats carry, however it has to go through a horse before it mutates enough for humans to get it.

Basically it's only when you get involved with wildlife that your risk of getting a disease from them is higher than VERY unlikely. If you happen to help some wildlife, and you maybe wrap them in a towel or jumper, even if they urinate on it. You can just chuck it in the wash (I usually add a little extra disinfectant) and it will be fine. Treat it the same as if a pet had used it or urinated on it.

What's some Good Wildlife Apps to have?

Well, there's so many out there now hey? Here's some that I've found handy or know people that use. WomSAT EchidnaCSI PlatypusSPOT are all for recording sightings of these animals (wombats/echidnas/platypus) this helps researches track where they are and how they are going which means we can help them more as well. OzAtlas - record a sighting of anything Australian, animal, plant, fungus, insect. FrogID - need to identify a frog? This is the app for you. Use photos or sound recordings, Field Guide to *insert state/territory* Fauna - Have a field guide on you wherever you are without having to carry a book. Seek by inaturalist - Helps you identify any animals, plants, insect, fungus. IFAW Wildlife Rescue - wildlife rescue app (currently for NSW only but soon expanding) will give you advice on what to do and put you into contact with the local wildlife rescue groups.

Besides Cats and Foxes, what other invasive species have you got that cause problems?

First up, any invasive species causes a problem. In Tasmania they have issues with Sugar Gliders, because they are not naturally found there and use up tree hollows that other animals need. Invasive species cause competition for food, water and shelter. They can also bring in diseases that didn't exist in Australia before and that our natives have no defence against (like cats and Toxoplasmosis) Here's a quick list of invasive animal species in Australia. Cats, dogs, foxes, pigs, water buffalo, ferrets rabbits, horses/brumbies, goats, camels, Cane Toad, European Honey Bee, Common Myna bird, deer, donkey, common starling, common pigeon, black rat, brown rat.

There's more, there's reptiles, and weeds and fish but those guys ^ are the main ones that cause problems.

I am an animal lover but unless we get rid of these animals you loose more in the long run. I'm 100% against use of poisons, I prefer having people hunt them to be honest. If you know what you are doing and have the right equipment you can give them a quick, painless death. To give you an idea how bad invasives are:

The introduction of the rabbit is the main cause the Lesser Bilby became extinct.

The introduction of cats and toxoplasmosis is believed to be the main reason Eastern Quolls became extinct on mainland Australia

Rats led directly to the extinction of 5 of Lord Howe Island's bird species

30% of our land snakes and Goannas are at risk as Cane Toads are rapidly spreading and eat their eggs.

The Common Myna Bird is the 2nd greatest threat to Australian native birds (habitat loss being the 1st)

The fox population has been estimated at 72 million and consume around 190 million birds a year

There's an estimated 23 million wild pigs/boars and an estimated 2.6 million goats - all eating whatever they come across.

How can I help Australian Wildlife?

There's the stuff we already know, like reduce/reuse/recycle and don't litter. But there's other things you may not know about.

Turn off lights at night - any lights that you don't need, don't have them on, especially if they are outside. Lots of animals require insects in their diets, particularly moths, which can be distracted by lights. Zoos Victoria have launched educational stuff for this https://youtu.be/ZAcL4FKPtHw

Learn about them - It's not hard, there's multiple ways you can do it. There's books, tv shows, pod casts, you can follow sanctuaries and other people who work with wildlife on social media. Planting flora that's native to your area is great as different plants can attract different animals and it's much lower maintenance, being made for that environment. You can even find cool life-hacks like Lemon Scented Tea-Tree doesn't just smell amazing and feed lots of wildlife, it keeps the mozzies away! There's different kinds of nesting boxes out there specific to different species that you can put up to help 'foster' that species. You can even become friends with your local Magpies! Mine know me as the lady who cleans and fills the bird bath and all I had to do was whistle to them when I was done and now they are really chill around me and I get to watch their antics. Debunk Myths! - In learning about wildlife you can debunk lots of myths like: a mother bird won't take it's chick back if you've touched it (fake news!) or that snakes dislocate their jaw to swallow their prey (that would be soooo painful!)

Put out water - have a bird bath and keep it clean and full. Or if you don't have one or want to get one just put water out on hot days. Summer's getting hotter and hotter and our animals really suffer. So put out a nice pot or container of water. Don't forget to put a rock or a stick in it if it's a slippery surface (like plastic or metal) so that little animals and bugs don't fall in and drown, and keep it out of the sun if it's likely to heat up.

Check roadkill - it's not pleasant but needs to be done. Don't do it if it's a motorway or somewhere dangerous, but if you can PLEASE do. Roadkill sometimes looks dead but isn't and you don't want them laying there suffering. They may have pouch young if they are a marsupial or young nearby that will need care without their parent. And where possible get it off the road. Species like Tasmanian Devils, Goannas and Wedge Tailed Eagles feed on roadkill and can then end up as roadkill themselves. Even if you have to drag it, it's dead and not gonna feel any more pain. 100% of people I have attended a rescue for who have called because they stopped and found a joey or young in a pouch or hiding nearby have not regretted their decision at all. Even if they were late for work, they saved a life and it was worth it.

Avoid using poisons - insecticides, pesticides, snail bait and straight up rat poison. Like mentioned in POISON VS VENOM, it just keeps killing. There are so many other options out there and they aren't hard to find. There's stuff on the internet but also at Bunnings I've found more environmentally sound options that use Tea Tree oils and Eucalyptus instead and work just as well.

Don't feed them! - Most Aussie animals are gluten and lactose intolerant. BREAD IS REALLY BAD! and if not eaten it gets mouldy and causes disease. Putting out bird seed is the number 1 problem when we talk 'feeding wildlife'. WHY?

The 'wild birdseed' that you buy in shops isn't actually for wild birds. JUST LOOK AT IT, you don't see those seeds growing out in the wild. The main seed wild birds eat are Bottle-brush, She-oaks, Banksias, Wattle and Eucalypts. None of those are found in these bags of seed.

Even for seed eaters that seed you buy is too fatty and unbalanced

For those that don't usually eat seed, like Lorikeets, eating the seed destroys the specialised bristles on their tongues that they need to eat their natural food - nectar and pollen.

If you don't keep it clean you will spread diseases, especially psittacosis (beak and feather) for which there is no cure just a slow, drawn out death. You can also catch it and end up in hospital.

You cause an imbalance. Animals breed based on food availability, if you make food available they will breed but there might not be enough space or trees available and you create more competition and also they end up relying on you and if you go on holiday or anything they can die without that food.

You can cause health issues in other animals. Possums love bird seed but it makes them fat, making it harder for them to escape predators.

You will be feeding non-natives. For example, the Common Myna bird cannot survive on wild plants, but if there is a food source around they can. Got rid of Common Mynas in my neighbourhood by convincing my neighbours to stop putting out bird seed.

RATS LOVE BIRD SEED. Specially feral rats. Mice also love bird seed.

You make a predator hot-spot. It won't take long for predators to realised animals they prey on visit your feeding station and they will come. The most common predator I find around bird seed? Snakes. Snakes love rats and mice, rats and mice love bird seed. You do the maths.

If you want to feed them just do some research and plant trees that are food for them.

How many species are endangered?

Sadly, it's almost quicker to list what's NOT endangered in Australia.

That's hard to say as there is different ways they can be endangered. In one area they may be common, but in another they could be disappearing. You can have Endangered lists at different levels; local, state, national and international.

But the most used list is the International Union for Conservation of Nature’s Red List of Threatened Species has evolved to become the world’s most comprehensive information source on the global extinction risk status of animal, fungus and plant species. AKA the IUNC Red List

Here's a bit of a breakdown: EXTINCT 26 mammals 7 birds 4 amphibians CRITICALLY ENDANGERED 7 mammals 8 birds 15 amphibians 13 reptiles ENDANGERED 18 mammals 29 birds 18 amphibians 21 Reptiles VULNERABLE 51 mammals 40 birds 23 amphibians 35 reptiles NEAR THREATENED 43 mammals 37 birds 9 amphibians 21 reptiles

Then there's the "data deficient" category where they really just don't have the info. 10 mammals 11 amphibians 42 reptiles

I will continue to update this post as I think of other things. Feel free to send me any questions you have

#Wildlife #Australian animals #Aussie #FAQ #endangered animals #what people should know #long post #venom vs poison

39 notes · View notes

undercoverwizardfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

With You When You’re Down: A ROTTMNT FanFiction One-Shot

I’m dedicating this one to @jadethest0ne who also helped come up with the title. Its also dedicated to anyone who ever battled depression or any other mental illness

Summary: It’s ok to feel sad sometimes, and right now Donnie doesn’t even have the will to get out of bed. But thats ok, why? Because he has a amazing family whose going to help him feel better.

Characters: Donnie, Leo, MIkey, Raph, Splinter

Pairings: I am NOT even kidding this time. You look at this fic with anything but ‘oh aren’t they a nice family’ feeling in your heart i”m going to sic my new pet Dragon Reggie on you. He loves eating t**st shippers and he’s hungry.

“Has anyone seen Purple?”

Raph tried to answer but apparently forgot he had just been trying to fit three burritos in his mouth and let out a loud choked noise but managed not to actually die. He bit through the burritos to clear his mouth and shook his head, “No Pops sorry,” before resuming his task of fitting as many burritos in his mouth as humanly possible.

Splinter frowned, “Red, I’ve told you this before. Small bites please, you’re too big for me to give the heimlich to anymore.” Even though Raph gave him a pained look and his shoulders sagged, he instead began to work on two burritos at once. “I’m going to check on your brother, no one dare Raphael to put anything bigger than his head in his mouth.” Before looking directly at Leo who was already using breakfast fixings to fill an abnormally large tortilla shell. The blue turtle gave him a nervous smile before leaning back in his seat with a pout. Splinter went over to the coffee maker, knowing it was safer to approach a possibly sleeping Donatello with a peace offering than just running in and expecting him to be cool with it. Last time he had tried that, he had been three feet taller.

The rat dad took Donatello’s favorite mug and stepped to Donatello’s room, tapping the entryway, “Purrrple? It’s almost two, you may be tired but I brought you a treat.” He sang. When he didn’t get answer he frowned, normally Donnie would give a loud shriek followed by ‘DADI’MBUSYITSSCIENCESCIENCESCIENCELETMEINPEEEAAAACCCCCEEEE!’. It wasn’t like Purple to not answer. He could still be asleep but even then he would have woken up in a rage and thrown something at him. While he normally respected his sons privacy’s enough to go to their rooms without permission (except to ‘borrow’ Mikey’s shirts), he called, ”Purple I’m coming in.” he ducked under the curtain. The room lacked normal hum that would come from Don’s inventions and instead left the small space in silence. He almost thought Donnie was still asleep.

Til a small sob reached him.

Splinter went into the small connecting room that was Don’s sleep nook. Even in the darkness he could see Donatello was still curled up on his bed, wrapped up in his blankets like a cocoon, “Purple? Its Dad,” out of the corner of his eye Splinter could see the shattered remains of Donatello’s phone on the ground, considering Donnie once had a meltdown when Leo joked about touching his phone without permission, that wasn’t a good sign, “Purple?”

The form on the loft bed twisted around, rolling over like a caterpillar forming a cocoon to look over the edge down on him, a pair of blood shot swollen eyes peered down at him, a small sniff escaped the small confides of the cocoon as Don rubbed his face against his blanket again.

Splinter could already feel his heart ache, “Aw, Purple.” He set the mug on Don’s desk as he climbed up the loft ladder, “Can I sit?” He asked the turtle, without lookin at him, Don’s head dipped in a nod. Splinter sat on the edge of his mattress, rubbing his sons shell over his blanket, “Are we not feeling ourselves today?” He knew he wasn’t going to get an answer, but instead heard a small sad noise come from him again. Splinter remembered seeing a box of tissues sitting on his desk, snaking his tail down underneath the bed and pulling the box up to his level, “Here my son.” He set the tissue box by Donatello’s head who didn’t hesitate to take several tissues in his hands and wipe at his face. Splinter placed a soft hand on the back of Don’s head, “It’s ok my Purple Plum. We all have days like this. I’ll tell your brothers to not bother you and let you rest your soul.” Splinter moved his palm from the back of Don’s scalp to the side of his face, using his thumb to wipe a stray tear that escaped Don’s eye, “Is that alright with you my son?”

Don gave him a weak, if appreciative, smile as he nodded. Splinter held his sons face for a few more seconds before climbing down from his bed. He remembered the coffee mug he had brought it and carried it back up the ladder, “Here my boy.” He held out the mug for him, “Pure Black, just the way we like it.”

Don took the mug, squirming to a upright position, giving Splinter another appreciative , if small, smile before resting his face over the warm drink, “I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you.” Splinter promised before climbing down the ladder one last time before leaving the room.

(#)(#)(#)(#)

Splinter had explained to them that Don wasn’t having a great day. A feeling Raph understood too well, but that didn’t make it easier to know one of his brothers was suffering too. Of course, his first reaction to finding out had been to go check on Don, at least before Splinter caught him and made him promise not to go in there with the purpose of asking him a ton of ‘are you ok’ questions and draining his mental health more than it already was.

So, for the first part of the morning, he focused on his rubix cube. Though it was second nature at this point to twist it in the right shape, it did nothing to distract him. He had considered maybe getting his other rubix cube and go challenge Don to a rubix cube race, but Splinter hadn’t thought it was a good idea. He said they shouldn’t stress Don anymore then possible (and if they did, he would ground them to the moon and back). The big and beautiful turtle let out a sigh, setting his rubix cube down as he absentmindedly looked around his room. It was hard knowing his brother was in such a state without a way to help him, but then his eyes fell on a certain pink caboodle and a giant smile encompassed his face.

Raph snatched it up and jogged out of his room, making a beeline for Don’s. Leo, who was doing a handstand on his skateboard, saw where he was heading and looked like he was going to try and stop him til Raph held up the caboodle for him to see. The red slider narrowed his eyes before giving him a nod of approval. Raph had to stop from bursting into Don’s room and take a moment to knock, “coming in buddy!” He said ducking under the curtain. The form on the bed twitched before Don looked towards the entrance with a look of surprise on his face, “Oh, sorry” Raph apologized weakly, “I should have asked permission,” he said as Don’s gave him a slight frown and laid back down on his bed with his shell to him. Don’s bed was covered in used tissues and an empty tissue box lay on the floor as though Don had tossed it aside when it lost its usefulness to him. “I’m sorry,” Raph apologized again in a softer voice. He sometimes forgot his loudness could unintentionally set off Don’s headaches and sensory issues. “I didn’t come in here to stress you out if that helps,” he started. “The last time I was depressed, Dad did my nails for me. So, I thought I’d see if you wanted me to do yours!” He held up his caboodle, ‘“Mikey’s been giving me lessons too so I won't mess up so bad!” Raph took a moment to check the volume and tone of his voice, he didn’t want Don to feel like he wasn’t giving him a choice, “I mean it's up to you.”

For the first time since Raph entered the room, Donnie looks at him from over his shoulder, his expression is softer this time, as though forgiving Raph for coming to his room so loud. A few months ago, Donnie told him that Raph reminded him of a large dog that always forgot it wasn’t a puppy anymore, but he had said it with a smile so it couldn’t be an entirely bad thing. He looks to the caboodle then to his nails and gives a nod so slight Raph almost misses it. “Ok cool!” Raph sets the caboodle on the desk under Don’s bed, “I think I have just the color, I saw it the other day when I was shopping with Mikey and it made me think of you.” He pulled out a thing of purple nail polish, “It’s glow in the dark,” he holds it up. In the dark room the purple contents give a soft glow, “And there’s glitter in it. It kinda reminded me of space so I figured you’d like it. Do you want me to use this?”

Don studies it for a moment, but then nods again, “Ok cool times two!” Before he starts, he notices Don doesn’t have his telltale hoodie, a source of comfort for him, “Hey if you want, while your nails are drying, I’ll do a load of your laundry and bring you one of your hoodies back. I’ll ask Leo for help so I don’t accidentally use the wrong fabric softener. Is that ok?” He once again gets a soft nod and sets to work. He also makes sure to clean the tissues off Don’s bed and bring him a new box before leaving to do his promised laundry.

(V)(V)(V)(V)

Mikey slid his spatula underneath the newly formed toasted sandwich before setting it carefully on a plate with a few cut up carrots on the side and a cup of oyster crackers. He takes a moment to check the tray for everything he was going to need - Mikey’s phone, a meal, a box of hand wipes, and a water jug of sugar free sports drink. With a nod of satisfaction, he picks up the tray and makes his way to Don’s room, using his foot to tap the outside of Don’s room before ducking in. “Hey Donnie!” he says with his trademark large smile. The softshell turtle was propped up on a few pillows wearing a purple hoodie with the hood up and looking at his nails when he looked at him with a nod of greeting, “I brought you something to help you feel better.” He practically skips over, “Last time I was sad, Raph made sure that I had water and ate something. Even if you’re not hungry now.” He almost laughs at the suspicious way Don was studying the sandwich, “Don’t worry it's not a Leo sandwich, it’s toasted mustard and ketchup. Your favorite.” Don nods at him, but sets the food aside. Mikey made a mental note to check later to make sure that Donnie actually ate. He did feel better to see Don drink out of the water jug before the hand wipes caught the soft shell turtles attention, “Oh that’s something Leo taught me too. It’s a good way to clean yourself without having to take a shower. I know you don’t like feeling dirty, so I figured you’d like it. There’s also some gum to clean your teeth”

Don blinks at him before opening the container. Its only then Mikey notices the soft purple glow coming from his nails, “Aw! I see Raph was here too!” Don nodded, he was already using a hand wipe to clean his neck and face. Mikey picked up the trash can and pulled Don’s chair around so it could rest it on it. Giving Don a closer vantage to it. He figures Don will finish his ‘hand wipe bath’ when he’s got privacy. “Hey dude you remember that AMV I was making for Jupiter Jim the Musical? The one made like a silent film??” He paused, thinking for a moment, “wait, actually how is it a musical if it’s a silent film?” He looks to Don for the answer, as he usually does, but Don just shrugs. “I was thinking of using a StarSet song, and since you basically listen to them all the time I thought I’d ask you for help picking one out. Is that ok?”

Honestly he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, maybe having Don roll away. He should of asked Leo if this was a good idea but instead Donnie scooted away from the ladder, patting the spot he had been sitting in. With a smile that can barely be contained by his round naturally happy face Mikey climbs up the ladder taking out his phone and pulling up the StarSet playlist he had made. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Don rests his cheek on his scalp but makes sure to give him a smile before starting the playlist.

(#)(#)(#)(#)

Leo honestly hates it when the Lair is quiet. Even though it’s barely evening, it feels almost unnatural for a home that had seen so many fires that he was sure the fire department would condemn them. Hours earlier, Splinter had told them that Donnie was experiencing a depressive episode and that they should respect his space and privacy as much as possible. But of course, had he been told his favorite Donnie was in such a state a few months earlier, he would have run through the wall and trapped Donnie in a death cuddle from which there was no escape. But at this point he knew better, so even though he watched Splinter, Raph and Mikey go visit Donnie at different times during the day, he stayed his distance, staying close enough that if he heard anything he could interfere.

So now he sits at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers on the surface. If anyone had been in the room with him, they would tell him to take a breath and stop feeling so anxious. But he can’t help it. Anxiety was a nasty devil who lived in your brain reminding you of all your mistakes you’ve made and all your mistakes to come.

Leo leans back in his seat, and takes a deep breath.

The anxiety feels further away.

The turtle stands up and stops by his room long enough to pick up his favorite blue hoodie. He makes sure to take a deep breath before knocking on Don’s door (I think you should specify which door), “Your favorite Leo’s coming in.” He calls gently before ducking under the curtain. He’s almost surprised to see the room still so clean, he can see clean clothes hanging from Don’s closet and a trash can situated on a chair by Don’s bed is filled with tissues and wipes. It fills his heart to know his brothers cared so much to come in here and to do little things to help him.

But Don doesn’t even roll over to acknowledge him, he can barely see Donnie scrub at his eyes again before curling up under his blanket. With a soft sigh, Leo walks over and climbs up the ladder, “Still not feeling ok buddy?” He asks crossing his arms over the top rung and resting his head on them as Donnie nodded in agreement. ”It's ok,” he drummed his fingers over the surface of Don’s mattress, picking up a few stray crumbled tissues and dropping them over the side of the bed. “Remember when I had my bad day a few weeks ago? I went to my room and refused to come out. I was a little angrier than I think you are now. But you came in and just hung out with me? You set up a projector in my room and we watched Jupiter Jim movies all night and you did that JJ impression that always makes me laugh.” He couldn’t help but smile softly at the memory. Eventually his room was full of their small family all curled up on his bed watching a low budget sci-fi movie series, even Splinter (who had some beef JJ he didn’t understand) joined in. Mikey sat on Raph’s shoulders doodling on his mask as Leo laid his head on Donnie's lap and laughed himself silly.

Leo blinks out of his memory and smiles up at him “You know what? Give me a sec.” He leaps off the ladder and hurries to Don’s lab. It feels almost eerie to see all his inventions shut down, but he snatches up Donnie’s tablet from its charging station and comes back to Don’s bed. “I’m actually kinda bored, wanna hang out and watch Ted Talks?” At first Don doesn’t look at him, his eyes were so swollen that Leo wasn’t entirely sure he could see anything. He was prepared to leave if Don wanted him to, but is relieved when Donnie nodded. Leo beams as he scrambles up the ladder. He gathers the pillows around to make a makeshift seat for the two of them, snuggling into his spot. “Not to sound too humble, but I can basically make the best pillow throne ever right Donnie-Dee?” He smiles praising his naturally humble nature before he scoots over enough to give Donnie space free of him but is again surprised when Donnie curls up next to him and rests his head on Leos’ shoulder. At first, he thought Don just wanted to see the screen better. But then his immediate brother begins to tremble, pulling down the rim of his hoodie down to to cover his face as he began to sob softly.

The blue masked turtle immediately wraps his arms around his brother, resting his cheek on his brother's scalp. He is unsure what he could say to comfort him, but when he felt Don press his face into his shoulder, he knew this would suffice.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there rocking his favorite weeping Donnie in his arms. But slowly he felt Don’s sobs fade away with his trembles, and eventually he pulls his face away enough to pull his tears tainted hoodie away from his face. Leo, without releasing his hold, pulls the box of tissues closer. “It’s ok to feel sad sometimes,” he says rubbing his cheek against Don’s temple to give him the space to wipe his eyes. “Just don’t forget that we love you Dee. We’ll always be here to take care of you. Your big brain knows that right?” He said peering at his brother's face. Donnie gave him a shaky smile and a nod, “See? That’s why you’re the smart one buddy.” Leo says with a smile

A soft noise escapes Donnie that Leo realizes is supposed to be a laugh, and he rubs his scalp. He settles back to hold the tablet up when Don reaches over to a plate Leo hadn’t noticed and tore a grilled sandwich in half, before pausing and stuffing one of the sides with some few remaining carrot sticks. Leo grins. “Aw see? You know me so well,” he says taking the carrot sandwich half with one hand and holding up the tablet with the other so Don could see it. Later, when Don was obviously getting annoyed with the flawed logic behind the Ted Talks, Leo would mute the screen and give his best impression of what he thought the ‘experts’ were saying. Even though Don laughed, it wasn’t so much Leo’s humor it was the horrible jokes that had him drag a hand down his face and succumbing to giggles. Later that night, they would be joined by the rest of their family. There wasn’t room for a projection screen, but Mikey brought in several of his favorite board games and they made a circle that would include Don’s bed. Sharing stories and telling jokes long into the night. Though Don didn’t share any stories, he laughed louder than everyone else, and at one point had to escape Leo’s ‘tickle torture’ when he rolled his eyes too many times at his jokes.

But nothing could keep the smile off his face after that.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #donnie #leo #mikey #raph #spllinter #hurt/comfort #depression #undercoverwizardninjaturtle #it’s ok to feel sad #jade #support rottmnt

173 notes · View notes

ducktracy · 4 years ago

Text

180. the lyin’ mouse (1937)

release date: october 16th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: mel blanc (cat), billy bletcher (lion), berneice hansell (mice)

this cartoon debuts a REALLY helpful bonus (that you can’t see on account of the blue ribbon re-issue): the story man is finally credited! no more guessing games as to who wrote what! of course, some valuable details are still omitted (backgrounds, layouts) which can sometimes be deciphered with a bit of sleuthing, but this is a nice start. i’ll start crediting the story, animation, music, layouts/backgrounds, etc. once the title cards move to the three part formula (that is: title, credits, director’s credit), which is sometime in the mid ‘40’s. for now, a little mouse retells the fable of the lion in the mouse (with some loony touches, of course) to a hungry cat in an attempt to satiate the cat’s appetite for the rodent.

berneice hansell’s shrieks accompany a still of the basement where our tale takes place. fade and zoom into a poor little mouse caught in a mouse trap, trying and failing to free its tail from the iron bar. the mouse’s cries of “helphelphelphelphelphelpHELP!” do nothing but attract unwanted attention--a quick, speedy pan that recalls the techniques of frank tashlin’s reveal a hungry cat licking its chops in anticipation. i personally love the cat’s design, the coloring on the eyes especially is really unique and stands out. the mouse, on the other hand, looks like all of the previous freleng mice that have dominated his cartoons, especially around the 1936 season.

the mouse begs for the cat to spare him. i love the purposeful indifference on the cat’s part--humming nonchalantly (the humming provided by billy bletcher as opposed to mel blanc) as he ties a napkin around his neck and places the mouse between two slices of bread, even salting him. tugging at the heart strings isn’t enough to quench this kitty’s appetite. the mouse’s attempts at bargaining are soon replaced with giggles as he’s slathered with mustard (gotta go the whole nine yards!), soon silent as the cat prepares to take a bite of his mouse-wich. thankfully for the mouse, its tail is still caught in the trap, and he’s yanked forcefully out from the sandwich just as the cat prepares to take a bite.

like always, berneice hansell’s deliveries are all too amusing to listen to as he proposes a deal with the cat. if the cat spares him, he’ll do a good deed in return. the cat doesn’t buy it (”ha! dat’s rich. a mouse help a cat. ha!”), prompting the mouse to ask if he’s ever heard of the story about the lion and the mouse. hansell’s deliveries are in tip top form as she eagerly exposes the plot, her voice reaching frequencies that even dogs would strain to hear. the gaspy breaths of excitement are another plus. tex avery would usually be the one to use her vocals as a punchline, pushing the audience’s limits on how long they can stomach her squealing (and i use that affectionately!), but you can certainly see friz also taking that approach here. likewise, the mouse’s voice reaches an opposite extreme, thundering in a low bellow as he describes the great, big, bad lion. i could be wrong, but the dimensional acting on the mouse, particularly the close-ups, feel like the work of bob mckimson to me.

though amusing, the opening portion of the cartoon does teeter on the sweet and sentimental side more than it does funny and witty. thankfully, we get more of the good stuff during the actual retelling of the story. the lion makes his grand debut, marching through a line of trees that bend to allow his threatening physique through. facing the audience, billy bletcher does his classic, bellowing voice as the lion introduces himself as the rip-snortin’-est lion in the whole world, going on an entire tangent all ending in -”est”, a mannerism that would be adopted by friz’s own yosemite sam years later. the animation of the lion is a bit distracting and clumsy, and i can’t help but wonder if that’s on the fault of the ink and paint department rather than the animator (or both). his mane in particular feels rather floaty and too geometrical. nevertheless, bletcher’s vocals are keen. to demonstrate just how large and in charge he is, the lion takes a deep inhale and exhale, causing an entire wind burst to blow the trees to and fro--even the grass rolls and unrolls like a carpet.

transition to a baby ostrich happily strutting along, the same ostrich reused from freleng’s plenty of money and you just a few years prior. the lion bellows its roar from offscreen, prompting the terrified ostrich to jab its head in the ground, lifting its head up (and a clump of dirt consequently hanging from its neck) and dashing off into the hills after the next roar. the scene does feel slightly out of place, transitions between scenes noticeable, but ken harris’ animation is always nice to see. the timing, at least, is very well done. the next scene, however, has more clumsy and conservative animation, featuring animals running away and back again to their water hole after being scared off by the lion. it beckons memories of past cartoon eras.

nevertheless, another hansell-voiced mouse (the eponymous mouse, that is) appears and is ready for some mischief making. he blows into a horn that is, to the animals, all to reminiscent of the lion’s roar. the animals of the jungle take off, including a turtle couple who jump in the same shell to escape, slightly comparable to another turtle couple in tex avery’s don’t look now just a year prior.

of course, the mouse gets his just desserts when the mean ol’ rip-snortin’-est lion himself is right behind the mouse, watching him double over in squeaky hysterics. once the mouse realizes he’s about to become dinner (doing a nice little stretch take), he’s quick to drop his games, now whistling anxiously, a big, cheesy grin plastered on his face, taking a few cautious steps backwards. gorgeous personality animation.

as the mouse pleas for his life, giving the ol’ “i have a wife and kids at home!” excuse, the lion is distracted by a smell radiating from off screen. a rotisserie chicken is conveniently placed in a bear trap, the trap labeled as the FRANK CLUCK EXPEDITION (a take on famed hunter frank buck). thankfully for the mouse, the lion lets him go, preoccupied with his plentiful poultry meal. the mouse zips away thankfully, only to zip right back at equal speeds and thank the lion before zipping away again. this gag would be used verbatim only 3 years later with freleng’s you ought to be in pictures, with porky in place of the mouse. coincidentally, both are animated by cal dalton, too. (thanks, devon!) the mouse DOES drop by one extra time to reassure the lion that if he ever needs help, he’ll return the favor.

thus cues the lion’s endeavors to pilfer the poultry. realizing all too quickly that simply reaching for the chicken will result in unwarranted decapitation of the arm thanks to the bear trap, he has to come up with something crafty. so, he opts to take the nonchalant approach, whistling and rocking back and forth unassumingly. the timing is very well executed as he pounces in a flash, reduced to a mere blur as he snags the chicken out from the clutches of the trap just in time. if you look closely, you can even spot some airbrush being used in conjunction with the speed lines.

unfortunately for the lion, what he fails to realize is that the chicken is rigged--the friendly folks behind the frank cluck expedition put a mouse trap inside the hollow chicken that clamps to the lions nose as soon as he gets a whiff of his not-so-future meal. however, an innocent lamb calls to the attention of the lion, distracting him from his pain.

the lamb is tied to a box that reads “FRANK CLUCK EXPEDITION -- lion trap no. 5″, pointing to a sign that encourages the lion to take it home free. the lion is enticed, but just as he goes to reach for the lamb’s neck, he recognizes the lion trap sign. instantly, he taps his foot, deep in thought, the whole scene rather reminiscent of freleng’s life with feathers in which sylvester does the same thing, pondering whether or not he should swallow a suicidal bird. the timing is much faster then, but the joke still lands even here. finally, the lion decides to dismiss the act all together, waving his hand away as he leaves. the pantomiming is excellent--no words are necessary to convey the dialogue happening in this scene. regardless, the lamb urges the lion to return, advertising signs about the health benefits of mutton. even the lush orchestration of “too marvelous for words” reaches its climax at the punchline--the lamb seductively displays its leg, the sign exclaiming “EAT LEG OF LAMB SAYS DR. KNOWIT”.

finally, the lion is convinced, and he grabs the lamb. as he does, the box advertising the frank cluck expedition opens, and a boxing glove socks the lion right in the face. great timing on friz’s part as a hunter wastes no time swooping in to tie the lion by the legs, posing triumphantly as a crowd takes photos and videotape the event for all to see. it all happens in a flash and unfolds quite well--the only downside is that the lion and hunter are subject to some DVNR (digital video noise reduction).

segue back to the present day, where the hungry mouse eager for the mouse to continue, invested in the story despite his harsh resistance against it prior. the detail of him sitting with his elbows on his knees like an eager little kid listening to a story is priceless, especially juxtaposted with the grating tones of mel’s voice as he urges “yeah? yeah? go on, go on! ‘den what happened?”

“soooooooo...!”, we spot the lion caged up at the circus, a lion tamer cracking his whip and performing tricks for the audience. i always love looking at the crowd shots in the ‘30s and ‘40s cartoons, they’re so amusing and can sometimes even border ghastliness. in a callback to rudolf ising’s i love a parade back in 1932, ken harris does some excellent animation of the lion tamer placing his head in the lion’s open mouth, and, consequently, the lion placing his own head in the tamer’s mouth. the animation of both shaking their hands in triumph (and the hilarious drawing of the lion tamer opening his mouth wide) is great. ya gotta love the harris smears.

“and ‘den, one night...” we get a shot of the mouse telling the story in the present as a means to transition scenes, a move that could have easily been achieved with just hansell’s narration and no animation. regardless, the lion sulks tearfully in his cage. however, as promised, the little brown mouse lives up to his word by surprising the lion at the cage, shushing him to keep quiet. carl stalling’s score of “old king cole” is lush and beautiful as the mouse chews his way through the wooden door of the cage, only stopping to begrudgingly spit out a nail. a lion sized hole is perfectly gnawed through the wood, and both the lion and mouse retreat away into the night, fleeing the circus once and for all.

“and that’s how the mouse saved the lion. now, won’t you let me go?” the brash, bold, grumpy cat from before is reduced to a tearful, sniveling sentimentalist as he frees the mouse, whimpering a pathetically hilarious “okay... i’m awfully sorry...” he’s even so kind as to give the mouse the piece of cheese that was used as bait.

the mouse displays the growth of warner bros. cartoons and their developing sense of identity as he zips away with the cheese, yelling “SUCKER!” and darting into the mouse hole. surprisingly, berneice hansell gives the line instead of your typical mel blanc shriek. the lip sync doesn’t align with the audio at all, however--the animation feels much more extreme than hansell’s delivery. i wonder if mel said the line originally, and they made a last minute change? who knows. nevertheless, the cat rams into the wall, failing to catch the mouse. instead, he turns to the audience and growls “can ya imagine that?” in an ode to tex avery’s porky the rain-maker. iris out.

while far from friz’s best, it’s far from his worse. it’s certainly much more enjoyable than his previous entry, dog daze. the actual retelling of the story is the best part, yet despite their nostalgic nature the cat and mouse scenes do hold up, especially the personality of the cat and the “SUCKER!” ending. that ending and the leg of lamb gag display the growing disenfranchisement with the disney roots of warner bros. cartoons. ever so slowly, the cartoons are finally making a name for themselves, and will continue to do so for years to come.

some aspects of the short drag--the opening is particular slow--but they’re padded with amusing vocals, and i’m enamored with the cat’s design. it isn’t the most substantial in terms of story or momentum, but there’s plenty to be amused by. it does have its lively moments. carl stalling’s musical arrangements are gorgeous as always and a delight to listen to. overall, you could go either way, but i lean more towards the “give it a watch” side, especially if you’ve been keeping up with this journey and are acquainted with the cartoons of the past. friz has dozens and dozens of cartoons better than this one, but he also has dozens of cartoons worse than this. i say give it a leisurely watch!

the short is beautifully restored on HBOmax, where i got the screenshots from, but you can also settle for this print as well.

#lt #looney tunes #the lyin’ mouse #reviews #long post #freleng

20 notes · View notes

maruwrites · 7 years ago

Text

The Revolution Pt. III

Summary: Dustin thinks he’s finally gonna have a quiet, normal childhood after the events with the Demodogs and Dart, until a new threat shows up at his house in the form of a 17-year old girl.

Warnings: Aaaaaaangst. And cursing, ofc.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Word count: 2,005

Steve decided very early on he would keep an eye on this girl. Nothing weird or anything, but he had come to appreciate Dustin, which he did not expect at all. He was a nice kid, a little lost and too much of a nerd for his own good, but still. Nice. And when Dustin was acting all weird at the diner when he finished telling the story, even after Steve had bought him chocolate milkshake and fries, the older boy’s protective instincts kicked in.

“That. Is. Weird.”

“No shit, Steve.”

“Like weird, weird.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry? I don’t know what to tell you. That’s a shitty situation,” he said, grabbing a handful of the young boy’s fries and stuffing them in his mouth. Partly because he was hungry, also partly because he wanted an excuse not to speak. He didn’t know what to say. “And you just, left them there?”

“I guess they have a lot of stuff to talk about. All I know is my mom handed me a bunch of quarters and told me to go to the arcade.” Dustin shook his bag, the coins clinking as they banged against each other. He took a few fries, dunked them in the milkshake and said with a mouthful: “But–and I never thought I’d say this, but I couldn’t care less about Dig-Dug right now.”

Steve looked disgusted at the boy’s eating habits but chuckled lightly.

They continued to eat in silence for a while until the older boy spoke.

“I can’t believe you let me pay for you when you have a bag filled with money. You asshat.”

For the first time that day, Dustin laughed out loud.

‘What are you waiting for?’

(Y/N) sat at the stairs in front of the house, trying to take deep breaths.

“Oh, here you are,” she heard Claudia say. “I thought you had left, I turned around and-”

“I just needed to breathe,” she interrupted. “I couldn’t do that inside this house.”

Claudia stayed silent. They sat in the stairs without a word. The long, exhausting conversation they had had inside stayed in the distant past until Paws made his out to the girl and climbed on her lap. (Y/N) stroke his face as he took tiny bites out of her hand. She gave him a tiny smile.

“Do you like cats?,” her mother asked.

“Yeah. When I was about 5, I got sent to this family and they had a bunch of pets. Like, dogs, cats, birds, even a piglet. My favorite ones were the cats.” Claudia smiled at the confession, her heart hurting slightly at the thought of this child getting shipped to a family of strangers.

“I love cats. We used to have another cat, Mews was her name, but she disappeared a few months ago. I guess she ran away. Dustin was actually the one who picked out Paws at the shelter,” the older woman said, and (Y/N) just hummed in agreement. “He’s a good kid.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” She forced a smile. (Y/N) didn’t want to think about it too hard. Of course he was a good kid. He had his mother, she had been there for him. What did (Y/N) have to show for herself? Nothing. She got nothing. “So,” She tried drowning out the thoughts. “I’m feeling better already. I think it’s the cat’s effect.” She heard a light chuckle.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? We have a spare bedroom...”

“I’m sure. Look, Claudia.” (Y/N) turned to the older woman, the cat jumping out of her lap. She tried to ignore to look of pain in her face. “I know I’ve said this, but I don’t want anything from you. I’m not interested in-”

“I know, sweetie.” At that word, sweetie, (Y/N) almost cried.

“I don’t want to impose. And uh, Dustin might be uncomfortable, as I’m sure you didn’t run by your offer through him, so... It’s fine. It’s a nice enough motel. I’ve slept in worst places.” Now it was Claudia’s turn to almost cry.

“Let me at least pack you something to eat. You stay there,” she said, getting up and walking to the kitchen, screaming now so that the girl could hear her. “And I’ll make you a PB and J, okay?”

The girl hummed a silent okay and waited in the stairs, not missing the very domestic thing that was waiting fo her mother to fix her a sandwich. While she waited in the stairs, an expensive car pulled up on the driveway. Inside, sat her half-brother and an older boy, who was maybe her age. She hadn’t seen him before, but after the extensive research she had done on her family, she knew he wasn’t a part of it.

Dustin looked at her through the glass and said something to the guy.

(Y/N) hated this. She always hated when people judged her, and that has gotten her into trouble a couple of times already. The feelings of inadequacy and sorrow were quickly replaced by annoyance and just downright anger. She knew he’d judge her, that they would all look at her and conjure this image of her in their head that she had no control of. And it infuriated her. They didn’t know her, they didn’t know anything.

She stood up as soon as Dustin left the car and braced herself for whatever he was gonna throw her way, but he just walked right past her and into his house, not once acknowledging her. (Y/N) looked at the door after he slammed it and took a deep breath, trying to control her anger. That is until she felt a set of eyes on her, practically burning a hole on her neck.

“Can I help you with something?,” she said through gritted teeth, as she turned around, and the crazy-haired boy who stood leaning against the car jumped slightly, not expecting her rashness. But he just stared at her, arms crossed in front of him. Steve had promised himself he would case this new girl out, and that’s what he was doing.

(Y/N) hated this. She took another breath and kept thinking of another one of her mantras: ‘Violence does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which he digs for another.’ She picked up her duffle bag, put it over her shoulder and walked to the street, her feet making their way to the hotel she had been staying. She knew the way by now. That hadn’t been the first time she’d gone to the Henderson house, it was just the first time she’d actually knocked on the door.

She could still feel his eyes on her, and she couldn’t control it. She couldn’t control how he would perceive her, how people would look at her, and that truly upset her. She was a good person. Right? But if she couldn’t make people see that, if she couldn’t make them realize she was nice, then she might as well act like they expected her to. So she left, letting go of the sandwich, trying to ignore the aching feeling in her chest that she just passed up the opportunity to have someone do something nice for her for once.

(Y/N) went through her regular routine as soon as she got in her room. She put her bag on top of the bed, took everything out and put them in their original places. The folded clothes went on the dresser, the toiletries were nicely arranged on the bathroom sink, and the books were placed on the bedside table, sticking out of each one a photograph marking a page.

That was all she had, her entire life displayed across a dirty, run down motel room. That was all she had to show for herself. Seventeen years worth of memories could fit in a military-style bag that she carried around because she knew better. She wouldn’t leave her entire life on a crappy motel room.

(Y/N) had been sent to way too many houses to know that that was nothing. She had seen in many of her “sisters” bedrooms an inordinate amount of memorabilia. Childhood toys, birthday and Christmas cards, old drawings that once hung in the refrigerator.

She tried ignoring the memory of Dustin’s room of when Claudia had given her the house tour. He had so many toys, posters on the wall, colorful lights. And a terrarium. (Y/N) loved turtles, they were one of her favorite animals and she couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if she hadn’t been given away. ‘Given away, like an animal, like a gift people didn’t like, like trash’, she thought.

(Y/N) would have her own room, filled with books from end to end. She would have stuffed animals she had had as a kid, but wasn’t ready yet to give away. She would keep her old assignments and homework on a box or a cool wooden chest that would sit on the foot of her bed. She would get the same lights from Dustin’s room, and they would both take care of Paws and Yertle together. She would be annoyed at him if he ever went into her room without asking, but the thought of that didn’t make her angry. She wanted to be annoyed at a little brother for not respecting boundaries. She wanted boundaries in the first place, because that would mean she had a space to call her own.

“Here it is...,” Claudia began, a sandwich wrapped in plastic wrap in her hand. She stopped when she couldn’t see the girl. “Oh, hi, Steve. Did you see my-uh, a girl walk by here?”

Steve nodded. “Hi, Mrs. Henderson. I did, she just left.”

He felt bad. The defeated look on her face, the sudden arm drop. She kept looking out to the streets, hoping to maybe see a glimpse of her, even though she knew she wouldn’t. Steve watched as she gulped, trying to keep her emotions at bay, and went back into the house in a haste, not before he caught a few tears prickling in her eyes, even in the distance.

Dusty, who had followed his mother, gave him a thumbs up. “Nice, buddy. Did you scare her off?”

“What? Of course not,” he said as he watched the younger boy approach him. “Maybe. I didn’t say anything, though. She literally just got up and left.”

“Hopefully forever.”

“Is it?”

“What?,” Dustin asked, leaning against the car in the same manner as Steve’s.

“Hopefully.”

“Uh, yeah. Of course.”

“I don’t know, man,” Steve contended. “Your mum doesn’t seem to think so.”

The young boy scoffed.

“Dustin, look. I don’t really know what advice to give you because I’ve never been in the same situation as you. Girl problems, sure, I’m your guy. But this... I’m afraid I can’t help you with that, buddy. But here’s a thing I learned in the past few months. Communication is very important.” He rubbed his neck, still unsure, and paused. “Maybe think about what’s like for your mum. Ask her what she’s feeling. Talk to her. Thinking you know what’s on the other person’s mind and acting according to that... sheesh. That’s no way to live life. Trust me. That I know.”

Dustin immediately opened his mouth to argue with his friend, but gave up. He was sort of right, the boy still needed to talk to his mum. But it felt like a betrayal of sorts. Like Dustin had been wrong for wishing this girl just went away and never came back.

“I thought you were on my side,” he whispered, a sting in his voice.

“Buddy...” Steve lamented, but Dustin went inside his house, leaving the older boy feeling defeated and frustrated.

(Y/N) opened one of the books, and old copy of Some Trees, by John Ashbery, and read the same passage she read everytime she thought about leaving, about being left, about the ever-growing nature of movement that had always been a central of part of her life.

“What more is there to do, except stay? And that we cannot do.”

@sociallyimpairedme @hufflepeople

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x oc #harrington x henderson!reader #revolution series

207 notes · View notes

freshlyjuicedbeetles · 7 years ago

Text

Part Four IT Microfiction!

Pennywise is never far from my mind. He is a fascinating, annoying, and terrifying presence in my life. I never had this close of contact with a subject and he alludes to the idea that there are more like him. I want to understand him and where he comes from. I only know the bare basics about him. He’s an alien from another dimension. His name is not pronounceable with human vocal cords. Technically, he is not a he, just that the closest representation of his true self is a male by human standards. He is millions of years old. Something about being pure energy and a giant spider… He had some sort of quarrel with a turtle?

When he’s not with me (which is 99% of his time), he’s in the sewers hiding or doing whatever aliens do. He used to also hide in an old house and scare anyone who dared come within his reach, but it was torn down in ’95. Inside was the old well that supplied the city in its first few years. It was sealed during the demolition. He would often use that well as access to and from the sewers. I’d never venture to either one or want think of all the places my mouth has been on the body of something that spends it’s time in the sewers.

I think he liked having that house, he still complains about a kid who insulted it.

“He called it a crack house! I know what crack is!” He exclaims, indignantly.

“Well, you did live in a crack house.” I reply.

“That’s not the point!” He huffs and pouts.

I try to puzzle him out. Are we talking Mass Effect like aliens who are civilized or xenomorphs that are more animalistic? He’s obviously intelligent and sentient so the rest of his species must be too. Did he come from an established society? Did he have parents or some sort of family line?

I decided to try to interview him one day. I expected it to be like herding squirrels. He doesn’t have the greatest attention span. I wasn’t sure what I would do with the information, I couldn’t slap it on my blog proclaiming I had managed to interview a cryptid. No one would take me seriously ever again. It’s ironic, I run a paranormal blog were my readers want this kind of contact, but the minute I make real and tangible contact with a subject like I have with Pennywise and put it out there, I’d be fitted for a strait jacket.

“Where are you from?” I asked, my phone recording us. Most paranormal phenomenon messed with electronics. His presence never caused such a thing.

He thought for a moment, then grabbed my hand and led me outside. He looked up at the sky, spun in a half circle and moved a few feet past my house.

“Right there,” He said pointing to a spot in the sky.

For all I knew, he could be pointing to an arbitrary spot.

Suddenly, he starts sniffing like a bloodhound, creeping up on a scent.

“I can smell the internet.” He says and is gone.

I am left there trying to understand his thought process but decide it’s better not to.

A few days later, I was able to understand what he meant. Prior to the ‘I smell the internet’ thing, I had gotten a hate comment on one of my posts. It was the same dribble most women get when taking up space online, ‘I’ll rape you till you die cunt’ and mansplaining how I was wrong about everything. It was an unfortunately common occurrence.

I thought nothing of it, that it was just some guy who was angry that he couldn’t get off. I deleted the comment and reported it to my hosting domain.

The next day, I was at the grocery store stocking up for the week. A fat hand reached for the same box of cereal I was grabbing for and we both knocked it to the ground. I bent to pick up when I noticed this person had a literal bite mark in his chubby, hairy calf. I stood thinking that maybe he ran into a grumpy dog. He looked at me like most people look at Pennywise.

“Are you okay, dude?” I asked.

“I’m sorry!” He exclaimed, running out of the store.

Later that day, I got an email about the comment from my host saying the user had lost their account privileges. It displayed the comment in question and the user’s avatar. It was the man from the grocery store.

Just looking at this slovenly and sweaty guy, I could see why Pennywise only took a chunk of his leg. He does have some dietary standards it seems.

Living with him has been a weird experience. It’s like living with a komodo dragon. It could probably kill you. He may humanoid, but he was still a bit feral. Yeah, I have a feral clown living with me.

Most of his knowledge about humans is outdated or he simply has no concept of something. His contact with humans was limited to stalking and eating them before he met me. He knew what sex was, it’s purpose and how humans do it. He had the broad strokes, but not the fine details. I’d thought he die of an orgasm when I introduced him to period sex.

He understands most human limitations (and disregards or exploits them), that when we’re born, we’re more or else stuck with our appearance. I found him watching shows about plastic surgery on my laptop and the only word that seemingly encapsulates his feelings towards surgery is: barbaric; that humans, sometimes electively, will let other humans tear us open, move stuff around, add something new or take something away completely. More irony. I would assume the healthcare system where he’s from is quite different. Not all of us are shapeshifters like you are, Penn.

He’s not actually a clown, he knows just as much about the persona to lure victims in. A clown is just the form he likes the best; it helps him catch his meals and scares people, a win-win for him. Kids (an easy target) like clowns and people fear them.

An annoying thing he does is taking my things. I lost so many pairs of panties to that dumb clown alien. He took my fluffy makeup powder brush AND my favorite highlighters (as in the writing utensil and makeup product). He even stole my favorite blanket. What will he take next? My favorite novel? Can he even read English? Does his species have a writing system?

He likes to watch me cook, which is funny since he lives on a raw diet. I probably should detest him, but obviously, his species is higher on the food chain than humans. Maybe I’m rationalizing it. We shouldn’t mess with the natural order of things. I am rationalizing it.

I gave him War Heads candy once and he has been constantly sucking on one or six, grimacing at the sourness and drooling. I want to give him Pop Rocks next. I plan to actually cook a simple meal for him, just to see what’ll happen.

He drank one of my perfumes, too, thinking it was potable. Maybe it was to him, it didn’t seem to bother him.

I watched in horror as a $90 liquid slid down his throat.

“That was Marc Jacobs, you idiot!” I screeched.

He didn’t understand.

“You spray it on yourself to smell good.” I explained, tersely.

“You smell tasty to me without it.” He shrugged.

I took the bottle from his gloved hand, cradling it like an injured bird. “It wasn’t for you to enjoy.”

He took my phone while I was napping. He found YouTube watched four cat videos, three Lady Gaga music videos (good taste, my clown alien), one and half makeup tutorials and seven from NASA about aliens and our galaxy. In between videos, he texted my mom for an hour.

Mom: Hi, honey, are you still in Maine?

Pennywise: The main Maine mane!!!!!!!!

Mom: Clever. How is your article coming?

Pennywise: Stupendously!!!!!!!

Mom: That’s good, Dad and I were getting curious, you’ve never stayed somewhere this long before.

Pennywise: I met someone!!!!

Mom: Really?

Pennywise: He’s a real looker, too!!1!1

Mom: Is he from Maine?

Pennywise: Sort of!!!! :D

Mom: You’re acting strange, are you drunk?

Pennywise: What’s drunk? That sounds fun!!

I started to wake up around this point and haven’t heard back from Mom. I have no idea how I’ll explain this. Guess he can read English.

He may take my stuff, but he’ll also bring me stuff. He’s brought me a beautiful and ornate vintage jewelry box that was probably made before my grandparents were born; a handful of marbles, a key that is probably older than the country, a freshly molted feather from a raven, a raw amethyst and a single earring that looked like it was from the 80s.

I think he sees me as his human, someone worthy of his attention and protection (while still wanting to eat me. That’s the ultimate possession, I guess?). I think his gifts are endearing, but the second he brings a snack with him and/or one for me, we’re going to have issues.

It all leaves me wondering is this how his species shows romantic affection. How does his species mark their loved ones to show the rest of society that they are off the market? Bringing gifts, spending a lot of time with their significant other and a possessive protection while still wanting to eat me is my best guess.

I am protected by a bucktooth, feral clown.

Yep.

#long post #pennywise fanfiction #it 2017 #microfiction #pennywise

20 notes · View notes

inkstainedfanfics · 8 years ago

Text

To my Dearest Regret, With Hope

Request: Listen. I'm legit bawling. I'm crying. My heart has been broken and scarred. You did that! I need a part 4 please or I might just die, M. Your writing is gonna kill me someday, you queen of angst, you. AND other sweet comments! THIS IS A PART OF THE To Newt, With Love series

Word Count: 2,627

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

Tag List: @dont-give-a-bother @red-roses-and-stories @caseoffics @myrtus-amongst-the-stars @gemininomad @fangirlingandcrying @adellyhatter-blog @ryeosomnia

Requests are currently open! Feel free to send one in

Newt stares at the brick house in front of him, taking a deep breath before dipping his head and walking toward it. The leather case in his hand bounces against his right leg with every quick step he takes. He times his steps, falling into the same familiar rhythm as the creak of the neighbor’s porch swing.

Climbing up the three hole-ridden steps, Newt curses under his breath. He pauses at the top and sighs. It’s now or never.

The door slams open halfway through his third knock. He nearly smacks his mother in the face as he stumbles forward, but she just ducks under his hand and wraps her arms around his stomach.

“Erm, hi mum.”

“You finally remembered I’m alive!”

Newt rolls his eyes over his mother’s head. “I never forgot it. That would be hard with all the owls you kept sending.”

She steps away from him, leading him into the house. “How could I not send them? You never replied. I didn’t know if you were getting any of them.”

Newt pulls the door shut behind him as he steps inside. “I’ve been busy.”

“I know, I know,” Mrs. Scamander waves her hands, walking down the hall to the kitchen, “Your animals mean more than your own dear mother.”

“That’s not true.” He follows her, eyes trailing over the pictures of him and Theseus at various ages, hanging in rotting frames on the cream walls.

“Well, you aren’t very good at showing that, are you? Come in here, I just finished baking some biscuits.”

Chuckling at a picture of him and Theseus grinning ear to ear in front of the ocean, stacks of shells balanced on their sopping curls, Newt heads into the kitchen. It hasn’t changed much since he was young. The same dog and cat salt and pepper shakers sit above the stove. The same row of flower vases with the same nine vases are lined up on the far counter, like soldiers ready to march at any moment. The same wooden frames hold up the same moving pictures.

Well, almost all the same pictures. Newt tries not to see the different faces in three of the frames, changed courtesy of Theseus.

“How have you been, honey?” Mrs. Scamander sets a cup of tea and a plate of two bite-sized biscuits down in front of Newt.

“I’ve almost died five times since I last saw you.” He fights a smile at his mother’s frown as he bites into a biscuit.

She falls into the chair across from him. “Do you want to kill your mother? Merlin’s beard, Newt, didn’t I raise you better?”

“You’re the best there ever could have been, mum.” Newt starts on the second biscuit.

“I failed to teach you not to lie.”

“It was a joke, mum.” He stands, taking his now empty plate to the sink, pressing a kiss to the top of his mother’s head as he passes her.

“You know, I hear from your brother far more than I do from you.”

“Here I thought we’d agreed to ignore you.”

She huffs at his crooked grin. “You always have a joke now, don’t you?”

Newt returns to the table, sitting and wrapping his hands around the cup of tea. “I do my best.”

She ignores the comment, brightening at whatever she thinks of. “Have you heard from your brother recently?”

Newt twists the glass in his hands. “I could start an owlery with all the messages you two send me.”

“Did you hear he was promoted? Of course, no one’s surprised. He’s the best there.” She drones on. Newt takes a sip of his tea and nods when it seems appropriate but doesn’t listen, attention focused on a tiny glass figurine. It’s a green turtle that doesn’t even take up two inches of the counter. Its neck stretches as though it’s craning forward, trying to hear their conversation, the way a girl he had once known used to sit.

No, he won’t think of that. Won’t consider it. Dead to me.

Shaking his head, he tries to tune back into his mother.

“He’s always out with his new friends if he isn’t here with me. He brought some over once. They’re such lovely men. So kind and respectful. I told them they could come over whenever they wanted a homecooked meal.”

“That’s nice, mum.” Newt murmurs, mind still drifting to the way that turtle had made its way into the house.

“And he’s met the loveliest girl, too. Oh, she’s so sweet. I’m so glad our Theseus swooped her up.”

She continues talking as Newt gives in and glances at the turtle again. It had been so small on that counter, so precious. He could hear your voice, the way it had shimmered in delight at the sight of the glass glinting in the sunlight.

No.

“Maria promised she would stop by soon to have lunch with me.”

Newt lets out a shaky breath before glancing at his mother and giving her a wry smile. “Theseus finally meets a girl and you want to put her through your cooking already?”

Mrs. Scamander scowls. “You don’t like my cooking? Then why did you bother with those two biscuits, hmm? I may as well feed you store-bought goods if that’s how you feel.”

Newt chuckles. “You’re good at baking, mum, but I think I may have inherited my cooking skill from you.”

“Then you would be wonderful at it.”

Newt sips more of the tea, raising his eyebrows in fake assurance. “Of course. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Oh, that reminds me, I need to get that recipe from Mrs. Dukir. Have you tried one of her stews?”

Newt can’t listen to his mother harp on about the main ingredients in a stew, not when there’s so much else on his mind. He runs through his mental checklist: feed the animals, check on Charlie’s wound, take notes on the habits of the diricrawls, walk through each habitat to make sure nothing’s out of order, then maybe sleep. He fights a yawn. He’d been up all night traveling here to see his mother, and the effects were finally hitting him.

His eyes wander to the turtle one more time, and he can hear your voice in his mind, worrying his mother wouldn’t like it, asking again and again, trusting Newt to know the answer.

Yep, time to sleep.

He pushes the chair back, standing. “Excuse me, mum. I’d love to hear more about Mrs. Dukir’s stew, but I’m afraid my trip here is catching up with me.”

She’s on her feet in an instant. “Of course, honey. Your room should be empty. You can stay in there.” She takes the cup of tea from him. “When you wake up, we need to talk about you visiting more. You worry me too much to stay away for so long.”

Newt glances at the turtle again, a slight blush filling his cheeks. “You won’t die if you don’t see me, mum.”

“It sure feels like I will. You know Frank March from across the way? He stops in to see his mother every week. I’m lucky if I see my own little boy every year.”

Newt rolls his eyes, leaning down to lift his case. “I think you’re being a smidge dramatic.”

“I understand that you don’t care. Whatever.” She raises her hands and heads to the kitchen. “That’s the curse of being a mother.”

Newt laughs as he leaves the kitchen, ignoring his mother’s guilt trip.

He doesn’t stop to look at the pictures in the hall now. He just trudges up the stairs, skipping the one that groans by habit, and turns the corner, pushing open the old door to his room.

Everything is nearly the same as he had left it years ago when he’d left the house: journals next to his desk, leaning against a stack of textbooks from Hogwarts, old notes taped to the walls with poor sketches right next to them, the same navy comforter stretched over his bed. Everything is the same, other than two boxes off to the left, some sort of trophy poking out of the top flaps of one of them. Probably Theseus’s junk, Newt figures as he sets his case down. He kneels to open the case though the need to sleep weighs him down. He needs to feed the creatures.

He lifts his hand to check the time and freezes. No watch. Of course.

The memories surge forward, easily fighting past his tired mental block, and all he can think about is you.

You, walking into his room, eyes taking in everything with a wonder he hadn’t seen on anyone else.

You, shouting up at his window from the front lawn, squinting with your hand over your eyes, asking him to hurry up and get outside already.

You, head falling onto his shoulder, exhausted from the long train ride, muttering his name in your sleep.

You, telling him you never want to see him again, that you could never forgive him, that you just want to forget he ever existed.

Newt winces at the last one, hearing it, seeing it all over again like he’s reliving it. He stands and steps back, sitting on the bed, head in his hands. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to forget the way your voice sounded when you realized he was choosing Leta. So hurt, so broken, a way you had never sounded before, and then you did because of him, because of what he did, because he couldn’t realize what was best in his life. He falls onto his back, rubbing his eyes, wishing he could go back and choose any other decision. Anything but Leta.

As he falls, something lodges itself under his shoulder. Shifting, Newt reaches for it. It’s a bulky package, heavy and fat. Something inside crinkles under his touch, and another seems to slide down. Probably from his mother.

He pauses, though, when he sees the handwriting. Turning it over in his hands, he barely breathes, heart pounding.

It is.

Oh God, it is your handwriting.

He releases his held breath, flipping the package over and tearing the top open with controlled excitement.

The contents slide out, landing with a muffled thump against his mattress. Eyes wide, Newt reaches down, lifting the watch. Its face sends a glint of light darting across the wall as it swings in his hand. The watch. It can’t be.

But he flips it and sucks in a breath.

To Newt,

With Love.

You’d sent it back.

Tears prick his eyes—silly, he tells himself but doesn’t blink them away—as he wraps it back around his wrist, a piece of a home he never thought he’d see again. He twists it once, pure joy filling him. It’s back.

You hadn’t forgotten about him.

He lifts the other item on the bed: a small key. The spare key you’d given him so many years ago.

Newt wonders in the back of his mind why you’d sent it back now, after he’d returned them two years ago.

He picks the envelope back up, searching for a letter of some kind, some sort of answer to his question. Tugging it open, he notices a piece of paper, just a fragment, stuck in the fold of the protective washcloth.

To an old friend,

With all my love

You wanted him to have the watch back. And with the key and the note, maybe… No, Newt stopped himself. No, you’d been pretty clear how you felt that day with Leta.

Still, you’d gone out of your way to send everything back to him. That must mean something.

The envelope slips from his hands, landing on his lap, address facing up. He thinks nothing of it until he notices the date: Almost a year ago, just a few days off.

Merlin’s beard, why hadn’t his mother said anything to him? He stands, rushing to his desk, scrounging up parchment and a quill. He needs to send you a letter, tell you how he feels.

To my dearest regret,

With hope

It’s as far as he gets. He sits to begin writing more, but nothing comes out right. The parchment is filled with lines of ink running through messy words. Newt scowls at the paper as though it’s hiding what he wants to say. He tries five more times, the quill ending up in his mouth many more times than that, before finally giving up.

He doesn’t know where the idea comes from, or where the nerve to do it comes from either. Newt just knows as he stands that he’s going to your house. He’s going to apologize in person. It’s been too many years since he’s heard your laugh and seen your bright smile. He might not see them today, the first time seeing you in years, but he’s going to bother you until he does.

Tearing off the only coherent words he has on the page, he shoves them in his pocket. He grabs the key, hiding it in his palm, closes his eyes, and pictures your neighborhood.

Birds scatter as he lands in an alleyway a few blocks away, safe from the eyes of any muggles.

He wraps his jacket around him as he paces forward, trying to block out the cold breeze gusting through the narrow streets. Imagining your face when you open the door keeps him moving, keeps him from second guessing his decision, but doesn’t keep his hands from shaking. God, he wants a hug from you. You give the best ones, and it’s been too long since he’d received one.

Your house looms in sight now, slowing Newt the slightest bit. He fiddles with the key in his hand, spinning it over and over, trying to imagine what he’ll say to you, what you’ll say to him. Will you hug him? Will you smack him and tell him it’s about time? Will you just invite him inside for a cup of tea and laugh about everything that’s happened?

He reaches the thin sidewalk that leads to your house, heart thrumming against his chest, threatening to stop if he opens the door.

He climbs the two steps and stops, taking a steadying breath. Finally.

He lifts his hand and knocks three times.

Waiting.

A beat.

A noise from inside. Newt shifts to his other foot, rubbing the back of his neck.

The doorknob turns.

“Can I help you?” A man stares at Newt, lips curved into a kind grin, impeccable grey suit on with a matching hat.

Newt freezes. No, this isn’t right. This isn’t right at all. He checks the house number uselessly. He knows what your house looks like. “I-I’m sorry. Do you live here?”

The man nods. “Just moved in a couple of days ago. Are you a neighbor?”

Newt tries to conjure up some sort of smile as his heart plummets. “No. No, just had the wrong address. I’m sorry.”

The man says something Newt only just hears before the door closes on his face.

You’re gone.

Newt blinks rapidly. You’d left no hint of where you’d gone, given no other way of contacting you. You’re a ghost now.

He’ll never see you again.

The ache in his chest deepens, hurting, nearly dragging him to his knees right there on the front stoop. You’re gone, and he’ll never get a chance to tell you how deeply he misses you.

He can barely breathe.

You’ve given up on him.

His breaths are shaky as he breathes in and out, gripping the nearby railing until his knuckles turn white, trying to understand, trying to process, what just happened.

Then someone behind him calls his name.

#newt scamander #newt Scamander x reader #newt Scamander imagine #newt Scamander one shot #angst #sequel #requested #hey I'm here #sorry I celebrated mother's day yesterday so I was busy #but here's this #and I love this series so much #I think there's only one more part to write though #lmk what you guys think #and how you've been #I hope you all have a fantastic day!!!!#fbawtft #your author is exhausted but excited to write!!

490 notes · View notes

joly-and-the-satellites · 7 years ago

Note

Sometimes I think about the fact that Joly just seems like the kind of person who would own a bird, like a super rad parrot or something, and for some reason Bossuet is convinced that the bird doesn't like him and has it out for him even though Joly keeps trying to explain that it's not true. (I'm sorry you're not doing well. I hope this helps.)

Okay, this was meant to be short, but it got waaaaay out of hand.

Birds of a Different Feather

It was a quiet afternoon when Joly had first brought it up.

“I think I’d like to have a bird,” he had stated, so casually it was almost as if he’d asked about the weather later on in the week. Musichetta, to her credit, did not seem very bothered about it. She simply took a sip of her coffee and nodded, “I think you’d do well with one. Birds can be sweethearts - a lot of them really love their humans.” Bossuet had been a little more perplexed over the sudden admittance; he wasn’t sure where it had come from, or why Joly had wanted a bird, in specific. They seemed loud, and most of them somewhat feisty - he’d been bitten and scratched at before, and he wasn’t entirely keen on the idea. Why not a guinea pig, or a turtle? Hell, why not a cat or a dog?

“A bird?” he had asked, a bit of hesitance in his tone. Joly had looked up, nodding - Bossuet must have had a certain expression on his face, because he had almost immediately backtracked. “Well, yeah, I would like to have a bird - unless you’re afraid of them? I really should have asked that before bringing it up, I’m sorry,” he replied, giving Bossuet that guilty, wide-eyed look, like a puppy who had been caught stealing food.

He wasn’t afraid of them, of course; more so, he was cautious around them, and didn’t really like his odds when it came to one descending from the heavens like a vengeful angel every time he walked into their house. But, he knew how much Joly had wanted a pet; he’d been looking longingly at shelters for months, and was always asking them about different types of animals. He had probably hoped that he was being subtle about it, but Musichetta had caught on almost immediately. Once she had tipped Bossuet off on the hints that he had been dropping, it became hard to ignore them.

If we had a dog, what kind would you want? Do you think we’d ever adopt a cat? Do ferrets actually smell? I’m not convinced that they do. How hard do you think hedgehogs bite? What kind of name would you give a bearded dragon if you had one?

And really, who was he to dash his hopes? If Joly had admit specifically to wanting a bird, who was he to refuse him without even considering it? And he really did have such a hard time saying no to those big brown doe eyes of his…

“No, I’m not afraid of birds,” Bossuet had responded. “I just don’t know much about them as pets. What do you think, ‘Chetta?” Musichetta had given him that sly little smirk over her mug that had told him she was onto him. She had raised her eyebrow subtly at him - You’re really not afraid of them? she was asking. Bossuet shook his head. No, I’m really not, was his silent reply. She had then turned to Joly, that bright smile on her face. “They’re good pets. They can be a little noisy, and sometimes they’re attention hogs; but there are kinds that aren’t too loud or aggressive. We’ll just have to do our research.”

Joly had looked back at Bossuet, his eyes shining with hope.

Bossuet had caved a little too easily.

After about a month of debating the pros and cons of various breeds, they had settled on a cockatiel; not too big that Bossuet would be running for cover, and relatively affectionate. They had gone to a shelter that had a cockatiel, recently surrendered by its owner, with the hopes of adopting it; but when they had entered the corridor where the birds were kept, Joly had zoned in on something else altogether.

An African Grey parrot.

It didn’t look threatening, aside from stature in comparison to the other birds. It was huddled down on a perch, gray feathers messy and unkempt - it seemed that it had been pulling out its own feathers. One leg was tucked up against its stomach as it dozed, eyes closed and body still. Joly instantly gravitated towards it, as easily as a magnet to its opposite pole, making a little sound of distress at the state of the bird. The parrot opened its eyes instantly, and stood back up so quickly it wobbled on the wooden perch - before it could lose its balance entirely, it flapped its wings, catching itself with a bit of effort. It hopped away from Joly on one foot, feathers standing on end in apparent alarm; Joly shuffled back immediately, a guilty look on his face. “What’s happened to this one?” Musichetta asked the volunteer, May, who was acting as their guide. She had paused, turning back to see which animal had caught her eye; her expression fell a bit when she saw Joly peering up at the parrot.

“That’s Charlie,” May answered, her tone becoming a bit more morose out of sympathy. “He’s… been through a lot. His owner didn’t take very good care of him; whoever they were, they abused him. He was left here in a box without a note, and no food or water. His leg was broken, and it was so badly infected that it had to be amputated. That’s why he stumbled a little when you approached him; he’s still a little scared of people.”

As soon as she said it, Joly looked back at his lovers with those big, sad eyes, as if he had been personally injured. Bossuet had to admit that it had gotten to him, as well; it seemed impossible to him that anyone could be capable of being so cruel to any kind of animal, especially one that was meant to be a companion to them. He just couldn’t wrap his head around how heartless one would have to be to intentionally harm their pets; especially to the extent of the animal losing a limb, or losing their trust in humans.

“How long has he been here?” Joly asked in a small voice, staring up at Charlie with his hands clutched together at his chest. It was a familiar action - he did it every time something struck a heartstring, and considering how big of a heart he had, it was fairly often. “Nine years,” May answered solemnly. “no one wants him because they’re afraid he’ll lash out, or that he’s too much of a responsibility. Some people just think he’s too ugly, or they don’t want to adopt a pet that might live as long as they do. They don’t want to make the commitment.”

Bossuet didn’t need to look at either of them to know that the decision had made - because he was already completely on board.

“How much is the adoption fee?” Bossuet asked.

May smiled warmly at that; but not nearly as brightly as Joly had.

Charlie was not entirely accepting at first; but Joly didn’t stop trying to forge a bond with him for a single moment.

The parrot was quiet and almost introverted - he didn’t like being held, and often tried to escape if one of them held their hand out to him, however slow the approach. Joly spent countless hours sitting next to the huge birdcage, talking to Charlie about his day and asking him questions about his as if he would reply; sometimes, when he had run out of things to say, he would pick up one of his favorite books and read to the parrot. He seemed especially fond of reading passages detailing dragons and mythical birds to him.

And bit by bit, Charlie learned to accept his presence.

He stopped jerking away when Joly walked by, and no longer tried to get to the other side of the room when he heard his voice. He was no longer flinching away from their laughter, and slowly, he stopped pulling out his feathers in favor of curiously picking at the toys and puzzles that they had bought for him. Joly would offer his hand to Charlie at times, hoping that he would hop over from the perch; a few times, he’d been bitten or nipped at, and many of those times, the parrot had drawn blood. Joly was ever-careful that he didn’t react negatively, and instead of jerking his hand away or raising his voice, he would carefully step back and apologize for startling him. When Charlie had finally allowed Joly to gently stroke his feathers, he had the biggest, beaming smile on his face - and from there, things only improved.

Joly was the only one that was allowed to carry him for a long time. Charlie would perch on his shoulder as he sat at his desk, or land in his lap when he sat on the chair next to the birdcage. It took a few weeks and a lot of gentle encouragement, but he finally started showing Musichetta the same trust, hitching rides on her shoulder as she walked about the house. He always went back to Joly, in the end; he was a one-person bird, it seemed, but Musichetta hardly minded. Joly was incredibly cheerful before they had adopted Charlie, of course - but he was so often in high spirits and so often gushing over his new feathered friend, who was the subject of many Instagram posts and Snapchat stories.

Bossuet, on the other hand, hadn’t yet gained Charlie’s trust or affection.

In fact, Charlie often puffed up defensively from Joly’s shoulder whenever Bossuet was near; he wasn’t competing for Joly’s affections, per say, but he was certainly less than excited about Bossuet’s presence in the room. He didn’t squawk or scream at him, though, which he had considered to be a good thing for a while… at least, until Joly had gotten the parrot talking, and he’d told Bossuet with the utmost confidence, feathers fluffed out and chest pushed forward as if trying to intimidate him, ‘scram, punk.’

Musichetta had choked on her tea, and Joly had snorted loudly. Bossuet had heeded the warning and promptly made his exit.

Charlie was absolutely, irrevocably, undeniably out to get him. And Bossuet just wasn’t sure what to do about it.

He looked up from his phone, taking in the scene just across the coffee table. Joly was sitting with his leg pulled up onto the couch, knee bent upward, the other rested out comfortably on the cushions, as he’d taken his prosthetic off once he’d gotten home. Charlie was perched on his bent knee, facing Joly, and leaning down to give him little ‘bird kisses’ - pressing his beak to Joly’s nose and making exaggerated noises to signify a smooch. Joly was petting his feathers lightly, that happy, relaxed smile on his face, watching a cartoon on the television idly when his attention wasn’t on the parrot.

The moment Bossuet reached for his little bag of Goldfish crackers, Charlie was standing upright and watching.

He froze with his hand hovering mid-air.

“I don’t think your bird likes me very much,” he stated.

Joly looked up to glance between the two, eyebrows drawn in confusion. “I’m sure that isn’t true,” he replied, tapping Charlie gently on the end of his beak; the parrot turned his attention back towards him, ‘kissing’ the pad of his finger. “he might not be used to you yet. Isn’t that right, Charlie?” “Right,” the bird answered without missing a beat. Bossuet was a little off-put by how easily he always answered Joly. Did he truly understand what he was saying, or was he guessing…?

“It’s been almost a year, though,” Bossuet responded, a bit poutily. As convinced as he was that Charlie was out for blood, he was a little disheartened that the bird didn’t like him - or even seem to readily tolerate him, really. Joly hummed under his breath, looking back at Charlie almost questioningly. “Maybe it’s only because you don’t talk to him as much as me and ‘Chetta,” Joly concluded. “I’m sure he likes you; he’s just a little nervous. It took him a long time to get used to me, after all.”

Bossuet sighed, popping one of the little crackers into his mouth before he replied. “I don’t think that’s it. I think he wants you to himself, and I’m slowly becoming his enemy.” His boyfriend laughed, shaking his head; Charlie imitated that laugh almost eerily well, and Bossuet found himself gawking for a moment.

“No, that’s not it, either - he wouldn’t like ‘Chetta nearly as much as he does if he wanted all my attention.” He looked back over at Bossuet, as if set to say something else - but his eyes fell to the little bag of Goldfish sitting next to him, and Bossuet could almost hear the gears turning. The moment he had spoken, Bossuet felt his heart plummet:

“I have an idea.”

“Oh, no,” Bossuet started to protest. “whatever it is, I’m not doing it. I love you with all of my heart, but I am not doing it.”

“Just hear me out,” Joly chuckled, shaking his head fondly at him. And really, Bossuet couldn’t deny him that. It didn’t mean he’d go through with this idea of Joly’s, of course; but he could at least listen to it before he took a stance on it. “I can prove to you that Charlie doesn’t dislike you - because I promise, he doesn’t! Give him one of your Goldfish.”

Bossuet looked down almost appraisingly at the bag next to him. He didn’t have the best of luck with birds. They often bit him, screamed at him, pecked him - and if he got in close quarters with a bird as large as Charlie and offered him a tiny cracker just the size of his fingertip, there was no telling what the damage might be.

Joly, as if sensing his thoughts, smiled softly. “Just trust me on this one, alright…? You don’t have to, but I promise you he isn’t going to hurt you, love.”

Bossuet gave a heavy sigh, and plucked a Goldfish from the bag, looking down at it as if his fate was resting upon the tiny cracker. “Do you think Ferre will believe me when I tell him why I’m going in for stitches?”

“Bossuet.”

“It’s a fair question! I need another story ready in case he doesn’t.”

“You won’t need stitches. You don’t have to give him one at all, honest!”

“But I want to,” Bossuet countered stubbornly, getting up from the armchair and going to sit next to Joly on the couch. Charlie watched his every move - but he was not fluffing his feathers out defensively, or trying to get between him and Joly. It didn’t stop him from being a bit apprehensive as he settled down on the sofa, of course.

Slowly, Bossuet situated the Goldfish between his thumb and pointer finger, and held it up as if in offering.

Charlie considered the cracker for a long moment. He leaned down, plucking it gently from his fingers; his beak barely touched his skin, and he was just as careful as Bossuet had been in the exchange.

Joly grinned, praising the bird for a moment before he leaned over to kiss Bossuet’s cheek. Feeling his smile against his skin was never any less heartwarming to him, and he could feel his own lips curling up in response. “See? He doesn’t dislike you. You just need to get used to each other.”

Bossuet reached up carefully to pet Charlie, who was munching happily on the Goldfish; he didn’t try to duck away from his hand, and he didn’t turn to bite him when he realized who was touching him.

“Maybe you’re right.” He conceded. “But I hope he doesn’t expect me to hand over all of my Goldfish that easily in the future.”

“Greedy,” Joly laughed.

#jbm #joly #bossuet #musichetta #asks #anonymous #answered #joly's journal #bless u anon #this was so fun to write #it's partially in homage to the African Grey my mom used to own (his name was Charlie)#and partially in homage to the macaw that a local business used to have in their shop #who took one look at me #and then proclaimed in a heavy jersey accent:#'SCRAM PUNK'#les miserables

20 notes · View notes

astralsecrets · 6 years ago

Text

Awesome and Unexpected Lucids - December 13

12-13 Dream: In a forest with F and D. I'm laying treats along the right-side path for D to follow and go through. For some reason, it's a competition where I have to lead D through his path and then do my own path as well. Once I finish D's path with him (he isn't great at it) I go to a small dock/pavillion/gazebo where I guess I have to cross to get to my path. There are all of these fuzzy caterpillars arranged like spiders crawling over the area I have to duck under/back through to get to my path. I'm really grossed out but eventually forced to touch them and find out they're not the stinging kind (maybe F shows me?). I back through and wake up. Dream: I'm in 9 with F's grandma (G) and little cousin (L), we're planning a party for L and I bought her a paintbrush. G is asking me to host a party or something in this room and I said fine and she said everyone else will have to pay $50 which is a great honor but I don't have to pay it. There's a big crooked cardboard pink box with a weird shape protruding from the top, which I assume is G's present for L sitting out in the open, unwrapped. L keeps asking what the logo for Walmart is, and I don't want to tell her because in the top-right corner of the box it's there, and I guess I don't want her to know her present came from walmart? Doesn't make a lot of sense because the other side says "Shipped from Walmart" in clear black Impact font letters, just upside down (maybe she can't read upside down). Dream transition to the kitchen area and I notice a roach or two on the mantle. Then I realize they're everywhere. It was dark before but now it's morning. I try to find some shoes to kill them with and when I look down I realize there are roaches and beetles everywhere, on the floor, couch, etc. I ask my dad for his shoes as I back towards the garage door. He says I'll be fine, they can't hurt you. The smaller beetles are approaching me now, one of them the size of an adolescent turtle has a white spot where his shell by his face peeled off. There are now beetles the size of those old exercise platforms that you step on and step off from. They have two pincers and a protruding element. Each time I look away and look back, it looks more metal/mechanical. My dad is putting his foot and ankle in between the pincers and the protruding part and showing me that "they don't hurt you" but really he's just moving his ankle out of the way at the last second. Dream: In 9 LR again at night, room is mostly empty and I'm working onn the floor with F on some christmas dioramas on construction paper platforms. I can't remember now what the first few were of, but after doing a few she's mad at me. I get up and get some wooden train tracks (the traditional kind that fit together) and a wooden train (which looks pretty beat up). Two of the four tracks are painted, one red, one blue. I offer to paint the other ones and she gets angrier. I close the drapes on the sliding glass door but she wants them open, and she opens them back up, although they part from the middle when she does it whereas in real life they all pull from one side. D is looking out the window. She's still very mad at me when I bring her some red corrugated construction paper for the last diorama. Fragment: Hospital w/ F? Fragment: 9 backyard? Serious w/ family? Had a few near-WILD experiences during this period despite doing no daywork and no MILD, only did SSILD after the WBTB briefly. I did take a vitamin B12 before bed (around 10 but didn't fall asleep till 11). WBTB (where I actually got up and walked around) 5:30 till 6:30, woke for good at 7:35. Lucid #73: I'm in a huge mall or college bookstore area, yellow light. The dream part went on for a while but at a certain point I round a corner and see F. She's wearing something low-cut and holding a book. I notice some freckles that aren't accurate and become lucid! The first thing I said, for some reason, was "this is our dream!" I don't remember why I did this, but it seemed to empower her as a DC to be happier/less distressed; maybe it was just my own perception of her informing this. In any case, we talk for a while, but because I kept diving in this lucid chain instead of writing these down in between, I don't remember now about what. Eventually I led her outside to a campus student union/cafeteria area. I picked her up in my arms and I told her I was taking her to my incubated dream world (I called it something weird which I wish I remembered now). I spun for maybe 10-20 seconds but it didn't help much except to stabilize a bit. I ended up just looking at her for a while, and she was just smiling so big. Probably the single most wholesomely gratifying LD experience so far. Lucid #74: I'm in a small cramped room, blue light. I'm with F again, leading her by the hand. We pass through another room with clutter and junk all around and I see a medusa-like woman who's covered in snakes, all green-black. She starts to chase us but I become lucid and send her away from us, not via force push or anything, but just by will. She is moved (not pushed) back against the wall, and I will her to phase through/into the wall (I figured if I can do it, so can DCs). She does, and it looks super wobbly and cool. But now all of the sudden I can hear a heartbeat sound coming from the walls. I don't worry about it and remind myself that I'm in control. I take F upstairs and we sit on a strange chair in an 8-like living room. We talk again for a bit, more serious this time than joyous. I ask her what I should get her for christmas. She says the earrings I got her were good but I should "double down"? We talk about a few other things which I've forgotten now, and for some reason when we're talking she keeps switching sides and talking at my back; it's sort of like we're in back-to-back seats in a round booth, and I keep turning one way and she'll turn the other. The heartbeat is mostly faded but I woke anyway. Lucid #75: This one was a DEILD. I "came to" standing over a bed in a dark attic room. There was another snakelike monster in the bed, this time smaller like a large-dog-sized roly poly I guess. Since I was instantly lucid I had no fear and came at the thing face first to watch it shrink away. It shrunk in size and kept backing up and I put my hand on it and transformed it into D, but a smaller version. Then I told D to follow me (he was grey in this version since he originated as a snake monster). I was trying to find F but couldn't. Something happened for a while in this one but I lost it. Lucid #76: This one started as a DEILD but I guess I lost lucidity during the transition and it became a dream where I was being informed by detectives that my teenage daughter was murdered. They took me to the spot where she was murdered (the outside of my apartment where I walk my dog) and I became lucid. I forgot all about the plot and was just energized by the actions of my previous dreams where I talked to F, especially when I asked about the Christmas present -- it was just really exciting that I spontaneously did something like that. This is important for two reasons I can think of: I woke with an enormous sense of elation/gratitude, and also I remembered not only WL memories within this dream, but also dream memories from a previous dream! Anyway because of all of this I started running victoriously towards these humongous trees (they were more like tree-bark vines reaching up maybe 20 stories, like a skyscraper). I was so happy that when I felt the moisture on some of the leaves I thought of rain, and it started raining! It felt so real, it was amazing. At first I was lifting myself with my arms only, but then I thought about it and started using my legs too. I looked down and up at the huge expanse of the trees and the rain and it was just an exhilarating experience. Lucid #77: Semi-DEILD. It wasn't instant but I did definitely "slip back" in a way. I tried to materialize something and eventually I got up very sloppily (my control was off due to awareness of WL body in a weird position). I walked to the bathroom and it reminded me of the opening scene of the 6th or 7th HP book with Harry's vision of Nagini biting the man in the room. There were two guys with country accents talking here. Woke up. Lucid fragments: heard music at one point; felt grief? maybe there was at one point an older man giving me advice; possibly during #75 I turned a small square section of either a being (snake being) or a piece of wood (bedpost?) into a flashlight. 3x1 + 2x.5 + 10 (first LD) + 5 (DILD) + 2 (WBTB) + 4x5 (other LDs) + 15 (personal goal*) = +56 => 99.5 Running total: 99.5 * Change the weather to make it rain while already lucid

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8297989 https://www.dreamviews.com/blogs/zad/awesome-unexpected-lucids-december-13-85885/

0 notes

astralsecrets · 6 years ago

Text

Awesome and Unexpected Lucids - December 13

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8297989 https://www.dreamviews.com/blogs/zad/awesome-unexpected-lucids-december-13-85885/

0 notes

astralsecrets · 6 years ago

Text

Awesome and Unexpected Lucids - December 13

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8297989 https://www.dreamviews.com/blogs/zad/awesome-unexpected-lucids-december-13-85885/

0 notes

astralsecrets · 6 years ago

Text

Awesome and Unexpected Lucids - December 13

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8297989 https://www.dreamviews.com/blogs/zad/awesome-unexpected-lucids-december-13-85885/

0 notes