#I really need to practice bird wings and feathers more there’s like 5 different feather stylizations on this one dragon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cloud-9ine · 4 years ago

Text

Through a Golden Lens (pt 1)

⤷ pairing - hawks x (fem) reader

⤷ fandom - bnha

⤷ warnings - some language, hawks flirting, reader’s cynicism

⤷ summary - reader is a bitter, overworked photographer at a hero press agency with little patience for her newly assigned muse- hawks

⤷ word count - 4.5k+

⤷ notes - i have lots of ideas so this is probably going to be a multi-part series. also new to tumblr so this might not be the best

⤷ pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6

“Mr. Hawks! Please look this way!” his heavy lidded eyes rolled to the side as another blinding flash burned through his vision.

“You look perfect, thank you!” it was hard to smile for their benefit, but he managed. Hawks had attended countless of these events for the press. It had been exhilarating at first, with the rush of adrenaline from the cameras and the lights and the endless stream of compliments solidifying his place in the public eye.

Nowadays, it was less thrilling. After a while, they all seemed the same- each one blurring into a senseless flare of cameras and hollow accolades.

He was bored, to say the least.

“Mr Hawks, would you like to come and see? I’d love to hear your opinion on this set!” with a practiced, easy smirk he nodded. It was easier to pander to the artist than to criticise their work.

He looked good, but when did he not? The shoots were easy to glide through. All he had to do was pull a boyish grin, ‘make love to the camera’ as the photographers always liked to spout. It didn’t really matter what he did: the public would eat up anything with his face slapped on to the front. They all looked the same to him, anyway.

“Looks good,” he wondered why people were so easily satiated by shallow praises, but as he stared at the younger lady’s blush, he couldn’t help but realise that maybe it was him who had something to do with it.

Hawks couldn’t help his gaze from drifting to the door. His skin prickled in the humidity of all the moving bodies in one enclosed space and he longed to take a step outside and stretch his wings in a way that wasn’t to pose for a magazine.

For a moment, he felt like his prayers had been answered when the door opened, letting in a stream of natural light to breach the artificiality of the modelling room.

”(L/N)! You were supposed to be here over three hours ago!” the woman in front of him exclaimed, ripping the camera away from his view and marching to the figure that appeared in the light. He blinked in surprise: this entire shoot he hadn’t heard her raise her voice above anything but a low mumble when conversing with him, and now she was positively fuming.

You stared down at your co-worker through honey-tinted shades, expression unamused.

“Yeah, and I was also supposed to be out of this job three years ago. We don’t all do what we’re supposed to, cupcake.”

For a moment, Hawks thought you were a model. Tasteful cream turtleneck tucked into heavily creased mocha skirt, caramel beret perched on your head. There were a few metal, classy looking rings wrapped around your fingers, but as far as he could see, no wedding ring. It was pretty standard style for those who worked in the arts, but somehow you wore it so well.

Your hair was a little dishevelled, and the dark circles under your eyes combined with the coffee cup in your hand were obvious signs of a rough night. His eyes locked on to the loopy black handwriting on the brown band around the cup.

(L/N) (Y/N)

You were no model, but Hawks couldn’t see the difference.

His wings beat lightly behind his back as he glided over, weaving through the other photographers and models scattered around the area.

“Hey there, I’m Hawks,” he said smoothly, voice saccharine as he spoke to you. Your attention turned to him as you glanced at him from above the frames of your sunglasses, seemingly unimpressed.

“This the new boytoy, Mizuki?” you asked, eyes raking up and down his figure. Hawks was never one to shy away from the gaze of others, but the way you were inspecting him made him feel so exposed.

“Show some respect,” Mizuki muttered, voice lowered at Hawks’ presence but glare still piercing. You sighed, sparing one last glance at Hawks before snatching the camera out of Mizuki’s hands, leaving her scrambling for the device as you walked away.

“Lemme see what you’ve got already,” Mizuki’s face grew red, half from anger towards you, and half because of the embarrassment of being diminished in front of Hawks.

“(L/N) y-you can’t just come in three hours late and take over! I’ve already done the shoot and Hawks has already expressed that he is pleased with the outcome,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes and shooting the shorter woman a glare over your shoulder.

“There’s no way you’re gonna force me to come into work and make me sit here doing nothing,” you sneered, waving the camera around almost teasingly, “you wanted someone actually skilled to do this shoot, and here I am. Let me do my thing,” without waiting for a response, you left, thumb fumbling with the dial that allowed you to scroll through the photos.

Hawks was impressed. You hadn’t bat an eye when you saw him, and while you were very clearly very late, you were confident in your skills and obviously took your job seriously.

“Who was that?” he questioned, wings spreading slightly as his eyes chased after you. Mizuki bowed her head, remorse filling her expression.

“I apologise for her impertinence. That’s (L/N), she was who your original photographer was supposed to be today, but when she didn’t show up I had to take over,” she huffed, “she’s been like this for about a year now, and the boss is prepared to fire her if she keeps it up. So you’d think she’d be able to pull her at together for you, Mr. Hawks...”

After a while, Hawks tuned out her whining, eyes curiously trained on you, surveying your furrowed brows and expression pinched with annoyance as you studied the photos. Although they looked good enough to him, it appeared that you didn’t share the same sentiment.

Hawks didn’t have time to avert his eyes when you turned your head, gaze locking on to his. You raised a slightly suspicious brow, but otherwise didn’t entertain his actions.

“Mizuki, why would you use cool lighting?” you called over your shoulder, not even sparing the decency to turn around and face the person you were addressing. Mizuki frowned, moving to your side. Like a magnet, Hawks did the same, peering over your other shoulder. You eyed him from the corner of your vision for a second before tapping the screen.

“What do you mean?” you sighed at your co-workers words, evidently frustrated.

“Considering you have bird boy over here in dark academia, accented in warmer yellows, using cool lights will bring out too much of a contrast. We need to match the accent colours with warmer lighting, or use a overlay,” you muttered, seemingly addressing yourself more than the two of them. Mizuki just shook her head.

“That would just oversaturate the image,” you snorted, giving her the same patronising look an adult would give a child if they tried to outsmart them.

“Not necessarily. I could spot-reduce saturation in highlight areas during editing. Or, if you really want your contrast, I could neutralise the warmer shades by using a blue, or compliment them using a red,” Hawks didn’t miss the way you said ‘I’ instead of ‘we’. Mizuki looked agitated, her frown growing deeper.

“Even so, we only have white backdrops. That would be a jarring contrast. You’d need something darker or more clustered to make it work. If you wanted a backdrop change you probably should’ve come earlier,” she spoke with a formality that obviously stemmed from Hawks next to her, but you paid no mind. You were silent for a moment, and Hawks could see your eyes narrowing as you were thinking.

“I need a natural background, huh?” you mumbled, thumbing the buttons on the camera. With a shrug, “alright, bird boy, come on, we’re leaving,” Hawks blinked in surprise as you spun on your heel, a grin breaking onto his face. Finally, he got to leave.

“Whatever you say, boss,” you shot him an irritated look.

“Don’t call me that. I’m 22, not 40,” his feathers ruffled up. “Hey, I’m also 22! What a coincidence, right?” he grinned, winking at you. You just responded by rolling your eyes.

Mizuki spluttered, trying in vain to get either one of you to stop as Hawks trailed after you.

“L-Look, you can’t just leave-” you turned, shoving the camera back into her hands, a mirthless smile on your face.

“Watch me,” your voice was cold, goading her to try and stop you, “bird boy, out, now.” Hawks didn’t have to be told twice. Some of the others whispered and muttered as they realised what was going on, but they all fell quiet when you shot them a sharp glare.

He breathed in the fresh air with a content sigh, his chest feeling lighter now he was out the cramped room. The amber glow from the late afternoon sun kissed his tanned skin as he stretched his arms above his head, his forearms flexing slightly under his dark blazer. His eyes shut in bliss and head tilted back, exposing his sharp jawline.

You eyed him slightly, eyes trailing across his features. Now that you had actually left, you were a little lost on what your plan was. You didn’t regret storming out of there, though, nor did you even consider turning back to apologise.

You took your own camera out of the dark camera bag slung across your body, careful not to scratch it on the tripod, and focused the lens on Hawks. It was smaller, a little more compact than the ones Mizuki and the others were using, but you found that it was much better suited for portrait work.

The click of the camera shutter brought Hawks out of his stupor, eyes snapping open and immediately landing on you. Your attention had already been diverted to the screen, studying your work.

“The modelling room is stuffy, I’ll give you that,” you mumbled, zooming in on his face, “but you can stretch while we walk,” Hawks leaned over you, eyes sparkling at the shot.

“Aw, you make me look so good, I’m flattered!” you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t be,” you took a large sip of your coffee, moving down the pathway as you thought. Hawks scrambled after you, his wings puffing out when he reached your side. You couldn’t help but gaze at the bright red feathers as he unfurled his wings, a small, happy chirping noise rumbling at the back of his throat once they were fully spread behind your back. They were warm, you noticed, feeling the heat through your turtleneck.

Your vision was filled with a cheeky smirk painted on full lips, Hawks’ face appearing in front of your eyes. Your eyes narrowed as you sized him up.

“See something you like?” you rolled your eyes as he purred.

“Not in the slightest, bird brain,” his wings beat behind his back, hand clutching the fabric on his chest.

“Oh, how you wound me!” Hawks cried, and you couldn’t help but smile slightly, which you quickly covered with your coffee cup.

“I’m sure you’ll face a villain that will do greater damage than I could,” he hummed, angling his face towards the sun.

“So, where are we headed?” you chewed on your bottom lip, slinging your camera over your shoulder.

“It can’t be anywhere with lots of traffic, you attract a lot of attention, you know?” it was a rhetorical question, but Hawks’ chest still puffed out in pride at your words.

“Thanks, it’s because of my raging-”

“Shut up,” you cut him off, “either way, I have a pounding headache and I do not have enough shits to give to put up with your fan girls today,” with a sigh, you rubbed your temples. Hawks stared at your clenched teeth.

“Hey, why do you-” “I think I know where we can go,” he frowned.

“You know it’s not polite to interrupt people like that-”

“Sunflowers.” your tone dripped finality as you faced Hawks, a brazen determination in your eyes he hadn’t seen until now. It made his breath hitch in his throat.

Breathy chuckle escaping his lips, and eyebrows furrowed when you sped your pace, gulping down more of your coffee.

“Uh, what?” you waved a hand dismissively.

“There’s a sunflower field in Fukuroi City, I think it’s west from here,” the tiniest of grins etched onto your features, “it’s gonna be a lot more interesting than the rest of those blank background. Plus, the yellow will compliment your clothes, and with the sun low in the sky I’ll get my perfect warm lighting,” you explained. Hawks wasn’t sure exactly how much of a difference it would make, but the idea seemed charming, and it was more exciting than being perpetually flanked by a white screen.

“Sounds good,” he chirped, “although, to be honest, you could take me out anywhere and I wouldn’t mind,” you rolled your eyes.

“That’s a shame, because I don’t intend to hang around any more than I have to,” Hawks pouted, crossing his arms.

“Come on, I wanna know more about you!” you bristled.

“Good for you.” the two of you fell into a beat of silence before Hawks smiled, undaunted.

“I’m sure I can win you over somehow,” shaking your head in disbelief, you lifted the cup to your lips, before looking down disappointedly when you realised it was empty.

“I don’t have enough coffee for this,” you muttered. Hawks’ expression brightened.

“That’s an easy fix: your agency is around here so you must know there area pretty well,” he spoke nonchalantly, as if he was on a casual lunch date and not in the most expensive outfit you’d seen in your entire life, “what’s the best place to grab a coffee?” for a moment, you looked taken aback, before shaking your head.

“Best café in these parts is the Sunset Hour,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck, “but as much as I have no inhibitions regarding bunking off work, that’s a little too far away. I need to take this pictures before the end of the day or Mizuki’ll submit those crappy ones she took in the studio,” Hawks nodded in understanding, smile never faltering for a second.

“Well I gotta get you your caffeine fix somewhere, so what’s the second best?” your expression scrunched in thought for a moment, before you jutted a thumb over your shoulder.

“There’s a Starbucks across the road,” he snickered seeing your blank expression.

“Not exactly where I would want our first date, but I suppose it’ll do,” rolling your eyes, you shoved the empty cup to his chest, which he gripped almost instinctively.

“Good thing this isn’t a date, then,” Hawks grinned, sending your empty cup on a feather to the nearest bin before chasing after you as you crossed the road. You didn’t spare him a single glance when he appeared at your shoulder, nor when he reached over above your head to open the Starbucks door from behind you.

“So you’re saying we can have our first date somewhere else?” with a shallow sigh, you shook your head.

“What I’m saying is that there’s not gonna be a first date. Not between us,” his chest tightened. God, you were so mean. He’d be into that.

The inside of the Starbucks was a mix between modern, western architecture and traditional Japanese woodwork. The equipment was all cutting edge, and the tables and chairs were made with a sleek mahogany, but the windows were framed with bamboo shutters, and the backroom was separated with shoji sliding doors. It was an curious blend, one that you studied with an interest. The deep, earthy scent of roasted coffee beans heavily imbued the air, filling your nose with the aroma of something far more familiar.

Given it was the late afternoon, and most people tended not to drink caffeine after 2pm, the patrons were few and far in between. Good for you, at least. It meant you wouldn’t get- “Hawks? Sorry to bother you but can we get a picture?” your head turned at the voice that rung out.

Two high school girls stood to your left, hands clutched together in front of their chests and a dark pink coating their cheeks. With a small sigh, you took a step forward in the small queue. Hawks smiled with all the faux charm in the world, an obvious change in his demeanour as his pride spiked.

“Of course! And just as it happens, I have my personal photographer here who can make sure your photos look amazing as you two do!” it took you a moment to register what he had said through the excited squeals of the girls before he clutched your shoulders and pulled you forward, causing you to stumble slightly.

“Your what?” he sent you an audacious smirk, willing you to play along as one of the girls handed you her phone. Your first instinct was to decline, but as you met the eyes of the girls, so eager and bright, you couldn’t find it in you to disappoint them.

Taking a couple steps back, you lifted the phone, slightly angling it so the picture looked more natural, and not that of a celebrity and their fans (even if it was). You squinted angrily at the poor lighting, but tried to rectify it the best you could. The girls looked a little tense, but Hawks was a natural. A liberal smirk played on his lips and shoulders rolled back, relaxed. Even with the low lighting, the highlights on his cheekbone and jawline were indescribably perfect, and you weren’t sure if the credit should go to you or his god-like genes.

“Wow, that’s perfect!” one of the girls cried, her body appearing by your side. You hadn’t even noticed her moving, “thank you so much!” you just nodded, handing her back her phone and crossing your arms, eyes narrowing at Hawks.

“If that’s all, ladies, we best be ordering,” they nodded frantically at Hawks’ words, sharply bowing and spouting their thanks to the two of you countless times. They left the Starbucks, but even outside you could still hear them fawning over the picture. He faced you with a grin, but you couldn’t muster up a smile.

“Don’t go around telling people I’m your personal photographer,” you sneered. He pouted, looking genuinely disappointed for a second. “What, you don’t wanna be mine?” “Not in the slightest.”

“What will be your order, Miss?” the barista had directed the question at you, but it was clear his attention was elsewhere. You weren’t surprised, but a small swell of annoyance grew in your mind.

“Can I have a mocha with a double shot of expresso?” Hawks chuckled.

“Might as well have an expresso, you know. You’re basically just taking a shot of caffeine,” you shrugged.

“It’s my favourite drink. I like the chocolate taste,” he looked at you with round eyes, a small squeeze in his chest.

“And you, sir?”

“Oh, I’ll have the same, then,” he didn’t miss the way your eyes darted to him. The barista nodded, tapping for a couple seconds before turning back.

“That’ll be 660 yen,” “I’m paying,” Hawks blurted, even before you could offer. You were silent, a small nod in the affirmative rocking your head. As he handed over the bills, he chuckled. “You know, not that I mind, but usually couples would argue over who’s paying,” you rolled your eyes.

“We’re not a couple,” you watched the barista prepare your drinks, more of a way to occupy yourself rather than a genuine interest, “besides, you’re a lot richer than I am. I don’t mean to be impolite, but I’m sure you can lose 600 yen and still be good,” he hummed happily.

“No disagreements there.” “Are you two eating in or taking out?” the barista asked, in the midst of securing the plastic lids to the top of the cups. Hawks’ eyes sparkled as he turned to you with an excitement you assumed only appeared in children.

“Hey, we can-” “Take out,” you responded, giving a now deflated Hawks a challenging look, “I will leave you here if I have to.” the blonde grinned. “You wouldn’t. You need me for the pictures,” he sang, voice jovial.

“I don’t care about you that much. The sunflowers are probably less annoying subjects anyway,” oh. With no warning, his heart beat sped up, his wings puffing out slightly. Sure, he wouldn’t mind if you were a little nicer to him, but your insults were like a breath of fresh air. There was no doubt that Hawks loved the limelight, loved the popularity he got, but the relentless ass-kissing got old after a while. You kept him on his toes. Even if he was just constantly chasing after you every time you brushed him off, he didn’t care.

“Put those away, bird brain,” it was then he realised his wings had spread further than he intended, stretched out on either side of him. One was curled right around his face, and he almost felt himself blushing as he pulled them in. It was just animal instincts, he assured himself.

The rest of the journey was filled with a one-sided conversation of him talking and commenting on what was around you, with no response from you except the occasional witty retort or light-hearted jab at his expense, each one making his heart flutter. It wasn’t too long before you had arrived, the chain link fence around the plot stretching high above your head and corroded with orange rust.

Rows and rows of bright yellow sunflowers stretched to the horizon, an immense display of summer vitality. The fragrance was potent, a sort of cloying sweetness that you didn’t hate. And just as you were about to enter, you knew you had made a mistake.

“Oh.” Hawks stared at you incredulously, attention switching from your taken aback expression to the sign posted on the gate.

“You didn’t check to see it was open?” you looked up at him, allowing him to survey a tinge of remorse he hadn’t recognised until this point.

“Look, how was I supposed to know? This place has always been open at this time since I was a little kid,” you rubbed your arm, brows furrowed. Hawks sighed, rolling his shoulders back.

“Well, the sun’s too low to go anywhere else outside,” he shrugged, “it’s no biggie, I guess. Those other photos weren’t too bad. Hey, now that we’re free, do you want to- what are you doing?” your foot was halfway in the gaps in the gate, the wedges on your heels making it hard to climb.

“I’m not wasting my day for nothing,” you growled, fingers curling around the metal, “get climbing, bird boy,” with a soft sigh, smile gracing his lips and a warm feeling in his chest, Hawks spread his wings.

“I think you’re forgetting something that’ll make this a lot easier,” you felt a cool draft on your back as Hawks flapped his wings, the feeling being quickly replaced by the warmth of his chest as he pulled you in. A foreign emotion coiled in your stomach, but you convinced yourself that it was just the flight.

One arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other supporting your knees, and all Hawks was thinking that such a gentle flight never felt so calming.

Your feet tapped against the soft soil, sinking in to it slightly when the hero placed you down. You nodded your thanks.

“Let’s go over there, I want the sun coming in from the right,” Hawks nodded, content to just follow your orders. You pulled the tripod from your bag and set it up, adjusting it to your liking as Hawks looked around, trying to think of a pose.

Once everything was ready, you turned your attention to Hawks.

“I want to humanise you,” he grinned curiously as you walked over.

“What do you mean by that?” he nearly gasped when you grabbed his chin, angling his face to the side and slightly up, towards the sun. You took a step closer, reaching up and running a hand through his hair. He bit his lip, hands trembling as you tugged slightly, trying to mess it up a little.

“All the photos I’ve seen on you always put a huge emphasis on either your wings or your hero status, and I don’t really see why,” you mumbled, placing one hand on his jawline while the other fixed his hair to your liking, letting a few strands fall in front of his eyes, “I think that just creates a divide. If they wanted you to seem angelic they should play that up, not just have it the norm,” you huffed, “anyway, I wanna put the emphasis on you and not your wings. So ideally if you could tuck them behind your back that would be wonderful,”

Hawks nodded, disappointment filling him as you stepped away. He made sure not to move as he awkwardly folded his wings over each other and pulled them in, glancing at you with a look of apprehension. You just nodded in approval, leaning down to your camera.

You took plenty of shots, allowing him plenty more opportunities to feel your hands on him (and he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it).

“Hey, why were you so late today?” Hawks dared to question while you were analysing your photos. You were perched on a bench, appreciating your work. The late sun cast a golden sheen on his skin, the spattering of glimmering rays highlighting his face in all the right places.

“I was sleeping,” you responded, deleting an out of focus shot. His eyes narrowed.

“What?” “Just as it sounds. Figured if they were gonna make me work so I could only have three hours of sleep a night it was gonna be on their time, not mine,” he frowned, taking a seat next to you.

“They shouldn’t work you that hard,” you shrugged with a hollow laugh, blank gaze in your eyes.

“What am I gonna do? Have them fire me? As much as I hate this job it’s the only thing that pays for my coffee in the morning,” he was silent as you stood up, stretching your arms behind your bag before tucking everything back in your bag.

“Did you want to be a photographer?” he questioned, only to be met with a forlorn smile.

“Maybe at one point.” the two of you lapsed into silence before you sighed.

“Well, I’ve gotta submit these to Mizuki, and I’m sure you need-” Hawks caught your wrist, spinning you back around.

In the glow of the sunset, you looked almost ethereal. Your eyes gleamed, and cheeks warmed in the orange flare. Sunflowers framed your form, and the words caught in his throat, nearly stopping him from saying anything at all.

“Come work for me.” he blurted. You snorted.

“No.” all he could do was smile as you hopped back over the fence, not waiting up for him.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought you’d say.”

232 notes · View notes

drabbles-of-writing · 4 years ago

Note

Please gush more about this wings AU thing

aaaAAAAAA sir you’ve opened the floodgates

K so most things are similar to canon? But there’s wings and that’s fun. Luz is just a common lil house sparrow, nothing particularly special about her. Eda, on the other hand, is a whole melting pot. Hybrids between different species are a thing, but the thing is, the hybrid traits show up in color and mannerisms of said bird. Wing shape sticks to only one specific species. Eda got the owl gene, but has a mess of other birds in her, too. She’s got raven (shiny things), cardinal, scarlet tanager, vulture, probably goose, and many others. Lilith was given the raven wing shape, which added to the reason on why she dyed her hair, so she can at least look like a pureblood.

Willow was pretty easy, hummingbirds fit her Aesthetic. But she’s also Buff, and I thought it’d be funny if she was a giant hummingbird, since those bad boys are, as far as I know, bigger than house sparrows. Gus was a little more difficult. I wanted a small bird, but I didn’t know which. Then I looked up the white-breasted nuthatch and found that 1. they are very loud. 2. they will fight bigger birds. So obviously I had to go with that. Gus is babey but he is loud and he will fight. probably a bit of a mix with chickadee or finch in there somewhere, too. A fast bird just seemed to fit Amity. But I wanted a fast but dainty-ish bird, not like a hawk or eagle. She was almost a gyrfalcon, but mutuals thought an american kestrel would fit her better. They are tiny, they are fast, and they are babey. Mattholomule was obvious. Shrikes are assholes. That’s just how it is. Boscha gave off the vibe of a bird of prey who would destroy me. But parrots could also bite my face off without blinking so I went with pretty and deadly. Lovebirds have a color similar to Boscha and also her being a bird with that name was funny so I chose it. Skara as a songbird was obvious, she’s in the bard track after all. So a nightingale was inevitable. Simple feathers, but with a beautiful voice. Viney,,,,,,honestly I just thought of birds that hang around other animals and came up with Oxpecker. She’s also probably a bit of a melting pot with dove, egret, and a couple different starlings. Jerbo is tall. Secretary birds are tall. Enough said. Belos was almost a bearded vulture, but I decided against it. I decided “let’s give him the biggest wings imaginable. simply because I can” so I chose the wandering albatross, the bird with a wingspan of twelve feet. Yeah, they’re thin, but these guys can also fly for a really long time, and idk, I thought the threat of that looked interesting.

In this AU, the rich don’t really,,,,fly. Flying, in the high-class, is seen as too much work. People who don’t fly are seen as powerful because they have better things to do, or they simply have no need for it. This has led to a couple of high-folk simply,,,,,not knowing how to fly. Also a lot of wing muscle issues. The twins can fly, not well, but they can fly. Amity, on the other hand.....can’t. At all. Of course, nobody else knows this. Choosing not to fly is one thing, but not knowing how is a disgrace.

Luz is a different story. She uses her wings all the time, which helps strengthen them. It’s not just because she flies often, but because she is constantly moving them. She uses them as extra hands to push and pull things, she flaps them excitedly and hovers an inch or two off the ground when excited, she hangs them when she’s tired or sad, she flares them when she’s mad, and she just moves them around when she talks or is showing off something. She simply cannot hold them still. Which is fine for her, since sparrow wings are small and thin, but for Eda, who also moves her wings a lot, it’s a hassle. It’s a common occurrence for something to fall over in the Owl House because neither of these two can hold still.

Also, they have more than just wings. That’s some weak shit right there. They’ve got tails, patches of feathers, can make chirps similar to their species, if their species has crests of feathers or a certain piece of feather(s) that stands out, it shows up. Along with dots of color if it stands out. Peacocks have those three frills on their heads plus faint whites around their eyes, turkeys have those dangly things I’m too lazy to look up the name of, and sometimes the size of the bird affects a person's height. The whole sha bam. It’s hell for Eda, who’s a blend of at least 5 different birds. What surprise will today bring? Who knows!

There’s also of course, accessories and fashion for wings. Jewelry, ribbons, scarves and silk that can be pinned or pierced on wings and sometimes tails. Of course, the rich have the most lavish, but the prettier ones are usually very heavy and weigh down flight near completely. And trying to fly with ribbons or silk around wings is difficult, and can tangle and cause birds to crash. In fact, some types of silk or techniques for fashioning wings are banned or heavily mandated due to the hazards and accidents that occur. Fake feathers are also a thing, usually for those who want their wings to look more grand, hide knives in their wings, or, recently, to hide clipped wings. Binding wings are also a thing, though they are typically only for prisoners or for people with such big/broken wings that they can’t keep them closed properly. These are usually covers that wrap around the entire abdomen to keep the wings shut, but for people who don’t want others to know they need them binded, there are thin strings that stretch across the backs of wings that hold them shut or up at a certain angle. Some people put painful pricks right underneath their scapulars to keep their wings at a regal posture. There are also piercings. Some are rings, some are simply nubs. A common piercing is to piercing the base and tip of the membrane and hang a thin chain between the two. Emperor Belos has a tradition of stabbing hooks through the membrane of prisoners and hanging them by their wings alone before they are to be petrified.

There’s also a little unofficial tradition with gifting feathers. A person will pluck a feather from their wings (sometimes tails but that’s more uncommon) and give it to someone. The more important the feather, the more you mean to someone. It’s not inherently romantic, it’s more of a way you show you care about someone, but it can be. Scapular (base feathers) and primary feathers are the important ones. They’re the feathers that are the closest to said person or their the feathers that are required for flight, they’re usually shown off with pride when they’re gifted to someone. Often a simple string with the single feather on it, but earrings and bracelets are also used.

Luz has a necklace each from her friends and family. She has a primary feather from her mother, a primary and scapular feather from Eda, a primary covert from Willow, and a secondary covert from Gus. She would later get a secondary feather from Amity that would eventually be replaced with a primary feather. She keeps them all on one necklace in her room and switches them up every now and again. Sometimes she’ll wear only one feather, sometimes she’ll wear a few, or all at once. There’s no particular pattern, she just wears what she wants to that day.

The grom note in Enchanting Grom Fright is replaced with Amity wanting to give someone a marginal covert feather (she was going to go with scapular but decided that might be too much). Luz going with her to grom coincides with her gifting a secondary feather to Amity, and Amity gifting the same type back. Amity kept that feather with her at near all-times as a necklace she hides under her shirt. A secondary and primary covert feather from Willow and Gus respectively would soon join Luz’s every now and again.

Luz would also teach Amity how to fly, once she realizes that Amity can’t. Course it’s in secret, nobody can know that Amity Blight can’t fly, but Willow and Gus do show up to help. Thing is, it hurts. Amity has barely used her wings in fourteen years. Her parents always made her hold them at a certain angle and she could barely express herself with them. They were more like large pieces of jewelry than anything. So when first learning to fly, she has to stop after only ten minutes, because her wings hurt. They ache and cramp and she’s convinced it’s too late for her to learn how to fly, her wings simply aren’t used to it. Luz, not one to back out on her word, basically becomes a coach instructor. Once a week she drags Amity off into a clearing where nobody else is and basically chucks her into the sky (stronk wings). And after a while, Amity’s able to go longer while gliding or warming up her wings. Ten minutes becomes fifteen, then twenty, then thirty, and suddenly, she can go over an hour practicing without getting tired. And you better believe she shows off to Willow and Gus. Maybe even Lilith a little bit during training, though that’s mostly on accident. Races, of course, happen a lot.

I’m already ramblin’ a lot and I do wanna write this eventually, so I’ll stop here for now. But know that there are romantic flights, Amity’s parents do not like the ‘common species,’ wings can be clipped, Eda is not immune to wing injury, and Barcus is trying to avoid all the bird drama, unsuccessfully.

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wwitbeyondmeasure · 4 years ago

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Summer at the Burrow / Ron Weasley fan fiction

Previous Chapters

Introduction / Author’s Note / Chapter 1: The Journey to the Burrow / Chapter 2: Hidden Letters / Chapter 3: Ron’s Return / Chapter 4: Nighttime Conversations / Chapter 5: A Morning Surprise / Chapter 6: The Quidditch Match / Chapter 7: Girl Talk / Chapter 8: Aphrodite’s Push / Chapter 9: Mistakes and Love Potions / Chapter 10: You Would Be Fine / Chapter 11: Spell It Out / Chapter 12: Long Overdue

Chapter 13: Always Want You

Author's note: okay so this chapter is gonna be a little steamy...pretty much the entire chapter is literally just steam so if you're not comfortable with that please don't read this chapter! thanks! :)

Your knuckles hovered over the wooden door of Ron's bedroom. They were shaky, and your heart was beating faster and faster. You had successfully slipped out of Ginny's room after (of course) gushing to her and Hermione about all the romantic things that Ron had said to you. You were pretty sure they had seen you leave Ginny's room during the sleepover, but they opted to let you have your fun.

And fun you would have. If only you could work up the courage to knock on the door.

You don't know why you were nervous. Ron just bared his heart and soul to you outside a few hours ago but now standing at his bedroom door, you were racked with nerves. What if he changed his mind? What if you messed something up? What if you weren't as good a kisser as he was? Juvenile thoughts, yeah, but everything with Ron was new and exciting, you couldn't help feeling so inexperienced.

Before you could even decide whether or not to turn around and run back up the stairs, you heard a very familiar squawking noise. Dite. Perfect opportunity, you thought, before knocking on the door

The door swung open before you could even lift your hand away. Your knuckle was frozen there in midair as your gaze met Ron's. He had changed out of his button-up from the party and was now wearing loose sweat pants and his signature Chudley Cannons t-shirt. Just the sight of him made your head feel woozy and clouded.

"I....uh...heard Dite, so I decided to come check on her," you said, very awkwardly. Even though you knew how Ron felt about you, and vice versa, you still found yourself at a lost for words standing at his bedroom door. For some reason kissing him now seemed drastically different from kissing him in the garden.

Ron gave you a lazy grin.

"You came just for Dite, huh?" He asked, seeing right through you. Blush spread across your cheeks and you nodded curtly.

Before you could make any more of a fool of yourself, Ron gently clasped his fingers around your wrists and pulled you into the room, promptly shutting the door behind him. He then pushed your back up against the door and kissed you. Surprised, your hands flew to his hair and you deepened the kiss. Even though you had exchanged countless little kisses the entire night (you could barely keep your hands off each other), every single one had felt as passionate and important as the first.

Ron pulled away from you, his grin still playing on his, now chapped, lips.

"Still only here for Dite?" He asked, his eyes joking.

"Definitely," you responded, taking every ounce of your will power to push away from him rather than wrap your legs around his torso. You walked over to the owl cage in the corner of the room. Inside, standing on straw and looking very smug, was your little friend Dite.

You stroked the top of her feathers with the back of your fingers, smoothing out the black heart on top of her head. While you were distracted by your pet, you felt strong warm arms wrap around your waist from behind. Ron leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

"Do you think she knows? About us?" Ron asked, tilting his head towards the small owl you were petting.

"Oh, definitely. She's practically screaming 'I told you so!' right now."

Ron wrapped his arms tighter around you as he chuckled. Your entire body felt warm with him wrapped around you. Wow, you thought. You could get used to this feeling.

He laughed again, kissing your shoulder while doing it so you felt his hot breath on your bare shoulder. You decided to wear a tank top and pajama pants to meet him tonight, and you were glad you did. His breath directly on your exposed skin was driving you insane.

"What're you laughing at?" You asked, your fingers moving away from petting Dite and instead landing on his arm. You traced up and down his freckled limb, soaking in every bit of him.

"People always say I'm the dumb one, but I literally bought you an owl named Aphrodite and you still didn't know how I felt about you," he said. You could feel his shoulders jostling up and down as he spoke so you knew he was still laughing.

Rolling your eyes, you turned around in his arms and were now facing him. Your fingers trailed from his biceps up to his neck as you wove your fingers through his orange hair.

"I didn't want to assume anything," you defended yourself.

Ron lowered his lips to yours. "I wish you would've, then we could've done this a lot sooner," he responded. You could feel the shape of his words barely touching your lips as he spoke against them.

"Done what, exactly?" You asked teasingly.

His lips connected with yours once more and as he kissed you deeply, he slowly walked you back towards his bed.

"This," he mumbled huskily when your knees hit the edge of the mattress.

Desire pooled into every pore of your body as you laid down on his bed, him hovering above you.

"Some privacy, please?" You said, regarding the birds in the corner of the room. Dite sent a wink in your direction as she flapped out her wings and took flight. As soon as your owls had flown out the open window, you dragged Ron's face down to yours.

"Kiss me, Weasley," you breathed.

And kiss you he did.

You thanked your lucky stars you were laying down because if not, your knees would have given out with the intensity of Ron's kiss. His mouth was hot against yours, his tongue dragging across your bottom lip hungrily. You kissed him back with the same feverish energy, wrapping your leg around his waist in one swift motion. He grunted into the kiss, left hand coming up to tangle in your hair as his right trailed down your body, touching you in places you desperately needed him at. His lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, leaving hot wet kisses along your jaw line.

"Y/n," he rasped against your skin, making you shudder under him.

Slowly, he kissed from your neck to your collarbone, relishing in the little moans you were emitting. His fingers bunched around the hem of your tank top, his eyes searching yours for permission. You nodded, letting him lift the material and smiling to yourself when he sharply inhaled. You hadn't worn a bra.

"Decided to keep with tradition, you know?" You joked as his eyes drank in the view of you.

"I love you so damn much," he said, his hands roaming over your body. His eyes bounced back up to yours and held your gaze. "You look so beautiful like this, all splayed out with your hair messy," he said. He was looking at you as if you were the most magical thing in the world-and to him you were. Which is saying a lot, because he was a wizard.

"I'm sorry I ran out on you the morning after we slept together," he blurted out. Wincing, he amended, "I mean not sleep sleep together, but sleeping next to each other, in the same bed, like we did."

It made your nerves ease when you watched him get flustered around you for once, instead of the other way around.

"Why did you?" You asked.

His hands stalled their trek on your body and moved back to your chin, cupping your face. He did that a lot, holding your face in his hands so gently. It made your heart melt and other parts of you heat up.

"I dunno, I guess I've just pictured this moment, right now, what we are doing, for the longest time...and I wanted to act on how I felt so badly that night...but I was too nervous," he confessed sheepishly.

You propped yourself up on your elbows so you could look him deeper in the eyes.

"Apology accepted. Just don't run out on me tomorrow morning, okay?"

His breath caught in his throat.

"You want to stay the night? With me? In my bed?" He asked nervously, as if he couldn't believe his luck.

After glancing down at your bare chest, you looked back up at him.

"Well, obviously," you joked.

He laughed through a grin and brought his lips to yours, before pushing you back into the pillows. Your head rested on his soft pillows and he kissed you again, making you feel like you were floating. His hands explored your chest while your fingers gripped the ends of his t-shirt, tugging it up slightly.

As if he could read your mind, Ron leaned back, quickly taking off his shirt and casting it away. Instantly, you attacked his shoulders and collarbones with hot, open mouthed kisses. You kissed every freckle, every mole, and every muscle on his chest.

Once you felt satisfied, you made your way back up to his lips, attaching yourself to them like they were water and you were dying of thirst. Ron eased you back to the pillows once more as his lips started kissing and sucking at the crook of your neck. You pressed you face into his red hair, the smell of cinnamon and apple filling your nose. He licked a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and you groaned, back arching.

Ron's fingers reached the drawstring of your pants, and he pulled away to look you in the eyes.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Because we can wait if you want," he rushed, his words tripping over one another.

You pulled him back into a kiss, breathing through it, "Ron, I want this, I want you, as long as you do too."

"I'll always want you," he replied.

His fingers dipped below your waistband. They immediately found their way to your core and you moaned louder than you expected, heat rushing to your face.

"Alright there, love?" Ron asked with a smug grin.

"Perfect," you replied, moaning again, not really caring about how desperate you must have seemed in the moment.

The rest of the night was filled with the same rhythm, kissing and asking permission and unabashedly showing each other how badly you wanted one another.

This lasted for quite some time, but by the time Dite and Pig had flown back into the room, you and Ron were cuddling together, out of breath, legs tangled up in the sheets.

"Hello," you greeted your owl. She gave you an approving nod before nestling into the straw of her cage, soundly falling asleep.

You turned your attention to the red haired boy laying next to you, his arms wrapped tightly around you. His eyelids were heavy, and you could tell he was just as tired as you were. Taking out years worth of pent up desire and lust really tires a person out.

Ron pressed his lips against your mouth, your temple, your cheek, all the while mumbling "I love you," against your lips, again and again and again.

You fell asleep to that mantra, heart full, hair a mess, and absolutely, blissfully in love.

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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March 12, 2021: Jason and the Argonauts (1963) (Part One)

I am so goddamn excited for this one.

Back to Greek mythology, my first mythological love! And not just Greek mythology, because this...THIS...this is the first true Avengers story. Oh, yeah, like The Avengers.

After all, mythology produced the first equivalent of our modern superheroes, with demigods and legends that wield fantastic abilities and powerful items to fight the forces of evil. I mean, it’s the most superhero thing I can think of, and it’s literally a story as old as time. Fact of the matter is, I love superheroes, and I love mythology. Which is why I’m excited to finally see an adaptation of one of the biggest superhero team-up stories ever: Jason and the Argonauts!

See, it all starts with Hera, queen of the Olympians and petty as FUCK.

See, the newly (and wrongfully) ascended king of Iolcus, Pelias, honored the gods after stealing the throne from his brother. Well, all of the gods except Hera. So, Hera, rightfully pissed off, decides to fuck Pelias over by recruiting his nephew, Jason. Jason’s a naturally hot blonde kid who was raised by the centaur Chiron, also making him wise...theoretically.

Hera tests this kid, and he passes, so she gives him her favor, and tells him to fuck up his uncle. Jason arrives in Iolcus, and demands the throne from Pelias. His uncle agrees, IF he can bring back the Golden Fleece, a legendary treasure that is guarded by a vicious monster and a zealous king. Pelias didn’t think Jason had any chance, but Jason had the gods on his side. They sent their best subjects to his aid, and Jason procured an awesome ship, the Argo. So, who’s coming to help? Oh, you ready for this? ARGONAUTS ASSEMBLE

Now there are anywhere between 46-85 heroes that are assembled in the Argonauts, with different members in different iterations of the myth. But the big members are:

Heracles, son of Zeus, with the strength of a thousand men

Orpheus, son of the muse Calliope, and master musician

Calais and Zetes, sons of the North Wind, with the ability to fly upon it

Atalanta, the swift-footed huntress, and only female member

Castor and Pollux, twin half-brothers (yeah, really) and horse-riders

Theseus, son of Poseidon, and slayer of the Minotaur

Tip of the iceberg there, but you get the point: we’ve got a superhero team on our hands! And these heroes would perform MANY great deeds on their journey to the Fleece. They fought the Harpies to defend an oracle, they passed the dangerous Clashing Rocks, they battled the Stymphalian Birds, with feathers of metal. Sirens, fire-breathing bulls, and a giant bronze man named Talos.

Different one. Eventually, they procured the Golden Fleece on the island of Colchis, where they fought a dragon with a help of the young sorceress (and niece of Circe), Medea. She fell in love with Jason, and the two fled the island, married, and had twins. Only for Medea to reveal herself as a stone-cold sociopath, and only for Jason to ditch her for another woman. That goes...VERY badly for Jason. Breaking off his marriage pisses off Hera, THE GODDESS OF MARRIAGE, and he dies sad and alone after Medea does...Medea does a lot, I’ll just leave it at that. Jason, completely fucked at that point, takes a nap at the foot of the now rotting Argo, which collapses on top of him and kills him.

For the record, I truncated that story A LOT. There’s a lot to it, but I have a movie to watch, goddamit! And I’m really excited because this is my first Harryhausen movie! You know, Ray Harryhausen, one of the early greats of practical special effects in film? A specialist in stop-motion from its earliest days, he revolutionizes the art throughout films in the 1950s and 1960s, with this one being one of the most successful. You’ve definitely seen his influence, from stuff that he’s done directly...

...to those inspired by him and his methodology...

...to the arts that were descended indirectly from his groundbreaking effects.

Oh yeah, I’m fucking GOING THERE. Fun fact: Ray Winston Studios, a stop-motion group active during the ‘80s and ‘90s, and a descendant of Harryhausen’s works, were originally going to do the animation for the dinosaurs in this movie, in Claymation. However, the recent advent of advanced animatronics, alongside ILM’s founding, caused them to take some of those principles, and apply them to CGI and animatronics. So, yeah, I’m claiming an indirect connection here!

Anyway, enough being a nerd, LET’S WATCH THE GODDAMN MOVIE! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

As the bombastic and epic score plays, the credits role of a Greek-style fresco, detailing the various adventures of the Argonauts. And before the movie starts, I come to a realization: there is a high chance that I’m going to hate this movie’s inaccuracies to Greek mythology. It’s not impossible. I’m real persnickety about my mythology adaptations, just warning you all now. I’ll probably get into it in this Recap, too. Full goddamn warning.

We begin with a seer, reading the future for the treacherous Pelias (Douglas Witmer). He sees first a Golden Fleece at the end of the world, but Pelias ignores this, and asks of his upcoming conquest of the kingdom of...Thessaly. Not, uh...not Iolcus. Mmmkay.

The seer fortells that Pelias will seize the throne, by force, from his brother and the king of Thessaly...Aristo...not Aeson. OK then. The seer says that he will be successful, but will eventually fall to one of Aristo’s kids, who will take his throne. He has two daughters, Philomena and Briseis, and one son, Jason. Looks like they’re gonna die, too.

The invasion begins! Amongst the chaos, Briseis (Davina Taylor) takes her baby sister, Philomena, into the temple of Hera, and pleads to her for her protection. However, they’re found by Pelias, who asks who she is. He’s interrupted by a priestess of Hera, who claims that the Queen Goddess has answered the girl’s prayer for protection.

Pelias responds in kind.

Well...I’m sure that’s gonna piss off Hera. He claims it to be the will of Zeus, but she states that it is his will, not Zeus’. The gods have abandoned him, and he will one day fall to a one-sandaled man, Jason. And as the woman reveals this...she disappears. Nice. FUCKIN’ NICE.

This “priestess” is Hera (Honor Blackman), of course. She goes to her husband, Zeus (Niall MacGinnis), and asks if he ordered Pelias to destroy and profane her temple. He says no, as that was Pelias’ attempt to stave off his inevitable fall by Jason. However, Jason has escaped Pelias’ wrath, as has his sister Philomena. Hera decided, however, that she wants to take down Pelias, and Jason is the best was for that to happen. Hence, she wishes to sponsor Jason.

However, Zeus, being the classic misogynist, says that he will allow it, but she may only help Jason 5 times, once for each time that the fallen Briseis prayed to her. She agrees, and waits 20 years to start fuckin’ with Pelias. Pelias, meanwhile, is growing more paranoid over the one-sandaled man prophecy that Hera gave him.

One day, on the bank of a river, Hera appears to make Pelias fall off of his horse into the river. He’s saved from drowning by a young man, who loses his sandal in the process. This is, of course, Jason (Todd Armstrong), who was already on his way to see Pelias for some reason.

For the record, this is an adaptation of the original story, in which Hera disguises herself as an old beggar-woman, and Jason proves himself to her by helping her across the river, after which she gives him her favor. To be honest, I like this a bit more, or at least as much.

Pelias brings Jason back to a camp for a celebration, with him as an honored guest. Jason reveals exactly who he is, and that he was raised outside of the city by one of his father’s loyal soldiers. He has come to reclaim his right place as king of Thessaly, and to restore it to it’s rightful glory. However, Pelias hasn’t revealed himself as king, and asks Jason how he plans to accomplish these feats. Jason replies with his ultimate plan: obtain the Golden Fleece.

Here’s the deal about the Golden Fleece. One of the most legendary items in Greek mythology, the fleece is essentially a symbol of royalty, and is the coat of a ram with wings found on the island of Colchis. Now, the meaning of the fleece has long been debated, with the main consensus stating that it’s a symbol of royalty. However, some claim that it’s a symbol of prosperous farming (golden grains of wheat), the forgiveness of the gods for some unknown deed, Zeus in the form of a ram, or simply the promise of the unknown at the edge of the world.

What it DEFINITELY ISN’T is a magical healing garment, as Jason claims it to be. But OK, whatever, we need a good reason to get the Fleece, sure. Pelias, not revealing himself, says that Jason should try to get the Fleece, with a boat and a crew, and bring it back to Thessaly, returning and killing Pelias in order to take the throne. Of course, Pelias thinks that this is impossible, which he says to his son Acastus (Gary Raymond). He also knows that if he kills Jason, he it will mean his own destruction, as Hera told him.

Jason goes to ponder this journey, only to encounter the seer. The seer asks if he has come to pray to the gods, to which Jason states that he doesn’t believe in them, nor does he have cause to. The seer offers to give him that cause, and reveals himself as Hermes (Michael Gwynn), the swift-footed messenger god, god of medicine, and trickster god of the Olympians.

Hermes isn’t usually directly involved in the myths of Jason, but that’s OK. He also does something particularly unusual, and brings Jason TO Olympus to meet the Gods themselves. Which, uh...yeah, hot damn. Zeus and the rest arranged for Hermes to bring Jason to them. They ask how they can help him on his quest. Zeus offers him a ship and crew, but Jason refuses, much to the gall of EVERYBODY.

Hera helps him by telling him where to find the Golden Fleece: the island of Colchis, at the other end of the world. To get there, though, Jason’ll DEFINITELY need a ship. He decides to go to the shipbuilders of Greece, and tell them that great treasure lies on Colchis, and they may receive some for their aid. As for the crew, he’s got a similar tactic. Offer the reward to the athletes and heroes of Greece, who will compete in games to determine their eligibility.

Not from the original myths...but it actually makes a lot of sense. Goddamn, is this going to be a good adaptation? I’m excited! The games are held, and many athletes win their place on the journey. They include: Castor and Pollux (Ferdinando Poggi and John Crawford), Acastus, and of course, Heracles (Nigel Green). And yeah, he’s called Hercules here, but I don’t care.

When Hercules arrives, this grabs the attention of the young Hylas (John Caimey), who arrived to late to compete in the games. He challenges Heracles to something, believing that beating Heracles in something will guarantee him a place on the ship.

While everyone mocks this, Heracles agrees to go up against him in a discus-throwing contest. They must hit or pass a rock in the ocean by throwing their discus. Heracles hits it easily, of course. And the frail Hylas...

...Nice. Did not see that coming, and that’s actually very smart. Also takes a lot of skill, because I could NOT do that. Hylas wins his place in the ship, to the delight of both the crowd and the Olympians. And yes, Hylas actually is a companion of Heracles in the original stories, so that’s neat!

Now for the boat, being built by master builder Argus (Laurence Naismith), who is coming on the ship with them. He notes that something appears to have guided his hand during the ship’s construction. In the original myth, that would be Athena. However, here, it’s probably Hera, as the figurehead is specifically carved in her image. And is also...alive?

Well...to be fair, in many myths, the ship contains wood built from a magical tree that could speak, and see the future. So, OK, magic ship, fair enough. Well, hopefully, that ship’s guidance will happen soon, as the voyage immediately proves difficult. No water, no rest, and frustrated men.

Jason asks the figurehead for help (which would be help #3) and Hera speaks through it to tell Jason to head to the Isle of Bronze, where Hephaestus once had his forge. However, the island is lorded over by a powerful something called Talos. I know what Talos is, but the movie hasn’t revealed him yet.

The Argo makes its way to the island, and the men head ashore to get food and water. They see goats there, which will provide them both food and drink, and Heracles and Hylas chase after them for just that aim. And that’s when they blunder into a giant bronze statuary, lorded over by the statue of Talos.

The two enter a chamber in the statue’s base, which is filled to the brim with gold and treasure. However, Jason warned the men of the Argo not to take anything from the island but food and water. Hylas remembers this, but Heracles doesn’t care, and takes a golden staff from the chamber. And Talos...Talos doesn’t appreciate that.

Oh, that’s a great place to take a break! See you in Part Two!

#Jason and the Argonauts #don chaffey #ray harryhausen #todd armstrong #nancy kovack #honor blackman #gary raymond #laurence naismith #greek mythology #argonauts #argonautica #apollonius rhodius #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #movie recap

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loudlypanickinginvenezolano · 4 years ago

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Animalistic.

Trigger warning for this chapter? Yes. I talk about dead animals, and got into some detail. So, be warned you all.

Shadow centric. Sorry not sorry.

CHAPTER NUMBER 1. also in AO3

If the alarmed squeal that had left his mouth had not been embarrassing enough, the sound he made when he fell right on his bottom, and hurt a bit his tail, definitely signed his name in the waiting list for a hole to appear and swallow him.

Right.

After making sure that no one had witnessed his embarrassing fall… besides the chirping ravens, that is… he allowed a sigh to make its appearance, rubbing a hand on his heaving chest.

Now he knew things WERE alarmingly weird, and not just him being a paranoid idiot, as his mind has been trying to reassure him. When he first had stepped into the forest he had noticed a particular lack of sound, of— of everything.

Don’t get him wrong, this was no normal forest, more akin to the very own of Angel Island, and the fauna was ever shifting, however, it wasn’t common for there to be such a lack of birds or rabbits or foxes or anything running around. There were moments, yes, but this one… It did not sat right with him.

His gloved hands grazed the thick and old trunk of the trees as he walked, branches and fallen leaves creaking loudly under his boots.

If he went out of his way just to step in those that looked extra crunchy, there was no one to say. Mostly, because there was no real “way” he was following. At this point, it was more wandering that other thing, leaving his paws take him to wherever they wanted, wondering quietly to himself what he may found today, what may have changed since yesterday...

That was, though, until his gaze fell in the scurrying fox not so far away.

Coming closer, he noticed and could hear clearly the chittering and snickering of three foxes. He stared for a while, deciding that, yes, he knew these foxes, and that yes, they were acting more nervous than usual. And that was saying something.

They jumped away once they noticed his presence, darting in different directions, leaving him only blinking in astonishment, as this was the first time they had reacted so fiercely to his presence. It was also with a pang that he realized that they almost seemed scared.

They had… never been scared of him like that.

Before he could ponder too long about it, a known black flashed on his peripheral vision and a grin made its way into his face. He sprinted towards it, leaping over fallen branches, rocks, and trees, scurrying under the thick foliage and water-filled lianas, sometimes squashing under his paws fallen fruits and some mushrooms he did not care to dodge. It was fun, not running because he needed to, or because he was racing someone. It was… a normal mobian that is just kidding around kind of run.

It was amazing.

Just as he thought he was going to succeed in catching the bird, they turned into another corner and… well.

He fell thanks to a dip he hadn’t noticed…Right in front of a sleeping bear.

A big, big growling bear.

It took him a moment to calm his lizard brain, realizing that, no, he wasn’t in danger, and that it was a half dead bear, not a sleeping or resting one as he had initially believed.

…On second thought, just-a-quarter-alive bear?

It was kind of pitiful to see, and once again he felt his breath leave him completely once the picture completely dawned on him.

Shadow blinked in direction of his winged friend, even though there was nothing to gain by it. It was not like he could ask what had happened, or why he was leaded here, if he was leaded at all or was just coincidence…

The raven was practically crooning at him, shaking his tail feathers and hopping into his spot.

Cute, indeed, but it didn’t answer any of his questions. He felt like glaring in frustration at his unhelpful company, and being honest, he almost did, however, the groan the bear make shifted his focus into the more pressing matter at hand.

Really, how was the thing still alive? It certainly had…a number…done on it. The blood pooled around it, and he was sure half it face was missing. Though, it most likely was because of the ravens it was still trying to spook.

Or maybe the culprit was a monkey? He was sure he had seen a few 4 days ago, but even so, if they were still here or not was a complete wild card.

Shadow stood, albeit hesitantly, telling himself like a mantra that just because he didn’t feel safe next to bears it meant he was going to die or suddenly get hurt just because he got close to a very clearly dying one. He had fought in an alien invasion, for fucks sake! How come he still feared this dumb things?

It really didn’t help his uneasiness, nor settled his knotted stomach, but his step did not waver once, and his fingers never shook, so he was counting this as a success.

His eyes widened as he fully took in the state of the bear. He could not tell wherever it was a male or a female, and the still pawing limbs of the bear were most likely not going to let him check. He didn’t think it mattered that much, but it could be nice to know.

The bit marks though. His eyes always found the way to them, not matter how much he was trying to check for other injuries. They were nothing like something he had ever seen before. On the actual animal kingdom, at least.

It wasn’t a wolf or any other territorial bear attack as he had thought at first. It was most likely a new animal, or well, creature, that had found its way into his forest. It wasn’t uncommon.

That didn’t make the view of its teeth and claws marks any easier to see. Whatever it was, it was big, a predator, and vicious. The maw was…all wrong, and claws this size and this thick… the markings all around the place, as well! It got dragged, but to what purpose? From where? Scare others predators?

“Oh, thingy.” He mumbled, reaching up to plant his hand on the strong back of the beast. He didn’t think it appreciated his try at comfort, and to be honest, Shadow himself wasn’t sure HE would have liked it either. It was all he could think of, though, so they would have to endure. “I am…sure you did your best.” He could see the guts of the bear from his kneeling position, and there was no point in trying to heal the neck. It was beyond destroyed. It… they were huffing, dark eyes glossed over and flickering to everywhere.

Dark eye?

Shadow noticed a lost ear, and that the jagged cut along their hindquarters showed bones. Broken, most likely, judging by the looks.

“Hey, gumdrops, would you be so kind in stop picking at it? Thank you” He reprimanded at the disrespectful raven, blowing at him so he would fly away. His ruby eyes went back to the bear face, and stroke it with sadness even in his fear. Their claws were prickly, but didn’t hurt as much as what he knew he needed to do. “I don’t have something to say, but… I do wonder why you ended like this…I’m sorry, I guess…”

He forced himself to stare at the beast eye, as he ended everything in the quickest and painless way he could muster at the moment.

Trying to heal them would prove futile, and even if he did succeed in making them survive the day, the pain they were in, plus the blood lost, the broken bones, the neck, and face injuries… making it survive and live what most likely wasn’t going to be a happy existence, if they made it for longer than a week…

Shadow couldn’t make it. He knew he was usually seen as someone cold or, whatever the fuck Amy had accused him of being last time, but this was… cruelty beyond everything he could think of. Stopping their pain was a mercy. What the fuck, it was the only option he had!

He wondered for how long have they been like this.

He wondered what could have hurt the bear like this, just to leave them, barely nibbled on and broken beyond repair to rot…

He discarded his gloves and racked his fingers over the fur, seeing the cuts and old scars that littered the skin. He also checked the face, noting the lost teeth and bloodied gums. The maw hanged loose in an unnatural way, and he found a very strange thing inside its mouth, piercing the tongue and palate.

It was a spine. A short one, but sharp and strong, a dark blue that became white by its end.

He had stashed it into his leather strap thigh bag, where he had also kept his gloves, untrusting the ravens and others beast of the forest that he may not see, but knew where watching or running everywhere, and deciding that, no, the guts were in that state by blunt force or maybe stepping in, but not by ravens or any other animal when he heard something… strange, to say.

By this moment, the sun was shining brightly and strongly over the ground of the forest he had made home in, unlike earlier when he first stepped in, and the light could barely made it through the thick fog. It was a change he welcomed happily, as it made it easier to walk the terrain. Following the noises, and having a clearer view, it didn’t take him even 5 minutes to found 3 young bear cubs, trying to scare away a menacing wild cat.

Shadow stomach plummeted down.

So that was why…

#Sonadow #Shadow the hedgehog #This just the first chapter im sorry #STH #Sonic the hedgehog #forest #not unleashed #not Sonic unleashed #Sonic the werehog #Shadow is taking care of the babies #they are going back to the forest once he is sure they can survive on their own #The werehog is feral #Animalistic #my writing

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theramseyloft · 5 years ago

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BABY TRAINING POST! BABY TRAINING POST! pleaaaaase? Thankuuuu!

Of course!

I have lots of videos on our Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/theramseyloft/

We start literally on hatch day.

The shiny, some times still wet, new peep is greeted and gently lifted out from under their parent, cradled in my palm for initial photos, and then gently checked over.

I lift their bitty wings, tilt up their little chin, check their crops, tummies, and vents.

For the first 7 days, the entire handling session should take about a minute.

At one week old, babies are significantly larger and can produce their own body heat, so we keep them out a little longer.

We start at 3 minute handling sessions, and through out the week, shift up to 5.

Starting at eight to ten days, peeps get to observe the Adults enjoying treat time.

They don’t usually start to peck until two weeks of age, but during these observation sessions, they learn two things:

1. The safflower seeds I am offering are STRONGLY desired by the adults!

2. Name = individual

Half way through this week is about the time they start begging to get treats too, so they get a name, if they didn’t have one already, and learn that name = peep.

We start Practice Boxing and Unboxing once they take treats reliably.

I have a very small shipping crate with a tear in the filter that makes it unusable for actually shipping. It functions as the practice bock now.

Peeps are loaded into the box in the loft, then unloaded in the house and spoiled with treats and cuddles and exploration time.

Now that they are moving around a little and interacting with things, I start describing what they are doing and talking them through things like you would a toddler.

They have been proven to learn “the equivalent of words” (Why can we not just say words, guys?) by the same mechanic as human toddlers.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2015/02/150204184447.htm

Language training is integral to our work with pigeons.

It is SO much easier to convey what you want or need to an animal that understands words in your language.

Pigeons are pattern mappers, and language is a pattern of matching words to objects, people, places, actions, and concepts.

Because pigeon flocks are democratic

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2010/04/100416214045.htm

Meritocracies

https://www.audubon.org/news/in-homing-pigeon-flocks-bad-bosses-quickly-get-demoted

Pigeons are unique in recognizing when their vote is being ignored.

The more ignored they feel, the less cooperative they are willing to be.

Pigeons are capable of significant abstractions.

They understand the concepts of time and space

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2017/12/171204144805.htm

And their brains are wired amazingly similarly to ours.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2013/07/130717095336.htm

The more they understand what is going on and how they fit into it, the easier it is for them to learn things like whether or not a handler actually does what they say they will do.

Pigeons are like 5 year old kids. Once it really sinks in that they can trust you and you are paying attention to what they are trying to tell you, the trust you earn is damn near unbreakable.

The earlier you start teaching them, the better it sticks.

Around two weeks, treat sessions extend to ten minutes.

Now that they are feathered enough to stay warm, big enough not to empty their crop quickly, taking treats reliably, and starting to learn words, we take them out in public for the first time in a basket.

Peeps go out either singly

or in pairs.

At this age, they are not especially mobile and nowhere near being able to fly.

Going uncovered like this is similar to being carried around in a nest with a handle, and inherently comforting because of it.

I want to see how they react to being carried, riding in the car, different locations, the movement of people, people’s pets, and being approached.

I want peeps to be relaxed, curious and interested in what’s going on around them, but primarily focused on their handler.

Babies are mobile on foot and just pre-flight at three weeks old.

So they go out in a carrier, next time.

At four weeks old, peeps are down from their nest and will be flight capable with in two days.

So the next time they go out, they ride in a carrier

Wearing a harness.

On their first day down, the adults of the flock will haze a new peep to show them their place at the bottom of the flock and teach them how to de-escalate with older birds to avoid disciplinary bites.

If you are fostering a baby this age and it suddenly turns skittish, it’s because it’s instinctively expecting the other shoe to drop.

Do not force them to interact.

Just reward them when they do with a fond greeting and occasional treat.

They have not forgotten that you are their friend, they just see you as an adult and are not sure how big a space you will demand now that they are self feeding.

A five week old is fully self feeding and flighted, faster and more agile, learning to grow into their mobility, and beginning to develop an independent streak.

They know how to de-escalate, but now that they are more mobile, they are learning when and how to assert themselves to make sure they get enough to eat.

They are especially stubborn at this age, and that language training they were started on earlier is really important.

Again, nothing is forced on them.

We lean more into verbally inviting them to do things and working out a way for them to convey yes or no.

Babies go home at Six weeks, so we just remain consistent with their training and evaluation until then.

Babies that start refusing more often than agreeing or refuse any specific aspect of their training are washed out of the Therapy program and are considered to be Pet quality.

From there, you can continue with the training prescribed in other asks for adults.

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why-not-go-with-style · 5 years ago

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So correct me if I’m wrong, but we don’t really see anyone actually flying in this series, do we? And what’s the point of characters with wings if they don’t fly at least once? I thought to myself, and then proceeded to write a fic where... nobody actually flies either. But there’s a lot of talking about it!

I wrote this while sitting on a ledge looking down onto the concrete two stories below whenever I needed a reason to be sufficiently scared. (Method acting? Watch me method write instead).

Word count: 1789

———

Crowley’s wings are pitch-black, and well-groomed, and never-used.

If one were to find out about this and ask questions – they wouldn’t, because Crowley knew how to keep his secrets, but there are always hypotheticals – he had a list of excuses catalogued neatly at the back of his mind.

The list went as such:

1. No thanks. Humans have all matter of surveillance technology nowadays. You think you’re alone, and the next thing you know there’s a video of a flying man being discussed on every news station.

2. There’s nowhere to fly, recently. London’s got all these antennae and chimneys and phone lines. One can go out into a field somewhere if one were so inclined, of course, but refer to point one.

3. The birds get real defensive when you try to share their airspace, and you don’t want to antagonise the birds. (Look what happened to Spider).

4. Us snakes aren’t made for flying, really. You ever seen a flying snake before? Yeah, didn’t think so. We’re meant to slither and suchlike.

5. None of your bloody business, that’s why!

They were all good excuses, and each one on its own would, no doubt, appease the poor curious soul which dared to question a demon. When blurted out all at once, in rapid progression, in an ever more alarmed tone, however, they raised far more questions than they answered.

Another circumstance that made the excuses slightly less convincing was when the questions were asked by an equally ancient being with a pair of wings of his own. Foam-white, and all-ruffled, and well-used.

Because Crowley, of course, knew how to keep secrets, but every rule had an exception, and for all Crowley’s rules the exception was the same. It liked crepes, and Chateau Lafitte 1875, and – horror of horrors – tartan.

And flying, too. Can’t forget flying.

As such, Aziraphale asked a question – the question, really, for it was one of the few questions Crowley (who appreciated questions with all his being) could stand not being asked. It happened one fine evening in the flat above the bookshop, a bottle of wine opened on the wooden table between them, but not yet even half-empty (or half-full, depending on which one of the beings in the room you asked). They were sitting there, and they were drinking, and then Aziraphale tilted his head to the side in that way he always did when he was curious about something.

“You know, my dear, I’ve always wondered,” he said, sloshing the liquid around in the bottom of his mug. “Why is it that you never fly?”

And in Crowley’s defense, he hasn’t expected it. Not today, not out of the blue like that, not so soon after the turmoils of averting the Apocalypse and other side hustles. So Aziraphale asked, and Crowley’s brain short-circuited.

“Well,” he blurted out. “Well, you see – no thanks. Humans have all matter of surveillance technology nowadays. You think you’re alone–“

It was a well-practiced list, and Crowley knew it word for word. Still, Aziraphale’s eyebrows proceeded to creep higher and higher at the increasing levels of alarm in his voice. The angel set his mug aside and leaned forward in his armchair, watching the demon flail.

“None of your bloody business, that’s why!” Crowley finished, huffing in frustration and emptying his own glass at a swallow. “Why are you asking, anyway?”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, carefully. He blinked a few times, coaxed his facial expression back into a neutral state. “I will admit to having been curious. I can’t say I expected... that sort of response.”

“Oh shut up,” Crowley scowled, making an effort to keep in as good a nature as he could manage. “It’s complicated, angel. Drop it.”

“Well, all right,” Aziraphale muttered, and Crowley remembered, suddenly, that making him drop subjects when he got that sort of a puzzled look on his face has never worked out for him before. Sure enough: “But still – it’s not that you can’t fly, certainly?”

“Of course I can fly, who do you think I am?” Crowley huffed. “I’ll have you know I’m one hell of a flier, me. Barrel rolls, Cuban eights, all sorts of things, really!”

“So..?” Aziraphale prompted. Crowley grimaced at him.

“So what? I gave you a whole list of reasons, angel, was that not enough?”

“Oh no, it was very... comprehensive,” Aziraphale said. “It’s just that I have a hard time imagining any of them would actually hold you down if you wanted to fly. The snake thing, perhaps – but then, you are usually quite adamant on insisting that just because you are a serpent, it doesn’t mean you can’t do human things. I can’t see why flying would be any different.”

“I can’t see why flying would be any different,” Crowley repeated in an attempt at a mocking voice (a failed attempt, really, judging by the quirk of Aziraphale’s eyebrows). “Of course it’s different! Flying is– flying is– You know!”

He gestured around wildly, knocking a couple of books off the shelves behind him. Aziraphale miracled them back to their respective spots before they even hit the ground, sending Crowley one of his ever-patient looks.

“I don’t know, my dear”, he said. “But I want to understand, if you’d let me.”

Crowley hissed at him. Then thought about his behaviour for a moment and cringed to himself, forcing his arms back at his sides.

“Sorry,” he said. Aziraphale shook his head, a shadow of an amused smile flickering on his face for a moment before it morphed back to attention. “Well – the snake thing is a part of it, really. I belong on the ground, crawling and whatnot.”

“Crowley–“

“Yes, yes, I know,” he wrinkled his nose. “When has that ever stopped me? Well, if you really must know, angel...”

He clutched his fists around the woollen quilt, which Aziraphale insisted on draping over his sofa because he maintained it was much more comfortable than leather. (It was, of course, but in Crowley’s humble opinion it utterly ruined the purpose of a leather sofa, which is to look expensive and be as uncomfortable as possible). The angel opposite him tipped his head to the side.

“If you really must know,” Crowley repeated, his voice wavering only a little, which was an achievement in its own right, “it’s the heights.”

“The... heights?” Aziraphale echoed, his brows knitting together. Crowley looked down at his hands, unclenched his fists, and straightened the quilt again.

“Yes, the heights,” he huffed. “Well, the falling, I guess, but it’s all kinda a packaged deal, ain’t it? Listen – you aren’t the one who took a freestyle dive from the top of the pearly gates down into boiling sulphur!”

“There are no–“

“Pearly gates in Heaven, yes, I know, I’ve been there, angel! That’s not my point!” Crowley exclaimed. “My point is that I’m done falling, thank you kindly! There is a limit on how much falling a being can take in their life, and I rather think that I’ve exhausted it!”

He refilled his glass with a snap of his fingers and drained it again, avoiding Aziraphale’s gaze. The angel followed suit, pouring himself some wine from the bottle. Crowley saluted in his direction and made a remarkably decent attempt at a smirk.

“Anyways, whatever,” he drawled. “Just... forget it, angel. Doesn’t matter.

“Doesn’t ma– of course it matters!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “I mean – I wouldn’t dream of forcing you to do something you don’t want to, my dear, but don’t you ever get... you know..?”

“No, I don’t know, angel,” Crowley snorted. Aziraphale bit down on the inside of his cheek, fidgeting with his fingers in frustration.

“If I stay on the ground too long, I feel so... earthbound,” he said, searching for words. “Heavy. Not in the literal sense of the word, I am, of course– anyway. Flying, it’s – freeing. The wind, and the sky, and the earth below – don’t tell me you’ve never missed it. I mean, Before, you must have–“

“Before,” Crowley sneered, “was Before. Now is now. You’re an angel, angel, of course it’s freeing for you! I haven’t flown for millennia – you can’t in all honestly believe I wouldn’t tumble down the moment I tried it even if I wanted to!”

Aziraphale shrugged, keeping his eyes focused just above Crowley’s right shoulder. Were he a human, Crowley would suspect he’s avoiding eye contact. As it stood, however, he was pretty confident the angel was straining his eyes to catch a glimpse of the black feathers. Crowley scoffed and twitched his shoulders upwards, letting his wings show.

“See?” he said. “Mint condition. Never used.”

Aziraphale’s gaze slid back towards his face, even as his own wings shimmered into existence behind him.

“I think it is rather like riding a bicycle,” he said softly. “You never quite forget how to do it. I mean – you have a car, of course, you hardly need bicycles, or any other methods of transportation, for the matter, which– Ah.” He wrinkled his nose in the adorable manner he had when he realised his rambling has gotten slightly too off-topic (not that Crowley ever objected to listening). “Never mind that. My point is, if you don’t want to fly, it’s perfectly fine, my dear. But – well, if you ever do, I hope you know there is always someone who’d be willing to catch you.”

A flustered shiver cascaded down Aziraphale’s unkempt feathers, and although Crowley couldn’t see them, he suspected that his were doing much the same. He wanted to turn around, tell them to stop this traitorous behaviour, but he didn’t dare move. He didn’t dare look away either, trying to soak in all the warmth of Aziraphale’s gaze like a serpent on a particularly cold winter day, and failing even in that, for there seemed to be no end to it. He snapped his fingers again, a soft sound, barely there in the swish of feathers, and reached for his glass, fumbling across the table and still refusing to look down to find it.

“Well then,” he said, and he found his voice to be suddenly awfully hoarse. “I’ll... think about the offer.” And then, lifting the glass up, fumbling over his words and his thoughts just as much: “To... bicycles?”

If Aziraphale’s gaze was a campfire, then his smile, as he lifted his mug by its own ceramic wings, was nothing short of the binary stars of Alpha Centauri.

“To bicycles,” he agreed, clinking it against the glass. “In any case, if the worst comes to worst, I did make a scooter fly once, didn’t I?”

Crowley choked on his wine, and then laughed, and didn’t stop laughing for a long time.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #otp: ineffable #crowley #aziraphale #good omens fic #allie scribbles

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linskywords · 5 years ago

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1M Words Week: McStrome & Daemons

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

Another opening of an unfinished story for 1M Words Week! This one I had ENTIRELY forgotten I’d come up with until I found it in my files last week. Not sure if this particular iteration of the story will go anywhere, but I love the premise. It’s a bit of a twist on the normal daemon rules, as you’ll notice.

Connor always feels guilty when he makes Escal change forms. She used to do it all the time when he was younger, of course—she barely went an hour in the same form, and when she watched his hockey games she would take a new form every few seconds, snake bear to mouse to wolf as Connor got the puck and lost it and ducked and wove through opposing players. Then he turned twelve and she started shifting less and less often, until finally he woke up five days in a row with a songbird perched on his pillow next to him.

He didn’t expect the songbird, particularly. Birds were supposed to be cool—everyone agreed that an eagle was a super awesome daemon, all broad wings and curved beak and sharp talons—but Connor didn’t think a sparrow really fell into the same category.

It felt right, though. It made him feel light, when she took off—like there was something buoyant in his chest that nobody could see. He needed that, sometimes. Needs it.

“Probably just means you’re flighty,” Dylan says at one point when they’re lying in his bedroom in his billet home, Escal perched on Arolin’s back and grooming his fur.

Connor snorts. “Yeah? What does that make you?”

“A dog-like servant of authority, obviously,” Dylan says, and Arolin barks at him, a short, sharp sound. He runs a hand over her russet fur in apology.

It’s easier for Dylan and Arolin at team events, Connor knows. Arolin says it’s the fur: otter fur is shorter and a different texture than her usual, but it’s still fur. And otters are smaller than Irish Setters, but not by that much, and she still has four legs and a tail and all her normal body parts.

Connor and Escal don’t need to talk about what makes sparrows and otters so different. It’s obvious every time she shifts and he feels the otter’s heaviness settle into his bones. It’s like there’s something tugging him, a weight draped across his shoulders that isn’t usually there. It messes him up on the ice for the first few games, until he gets used to it.

“It’s not that bad,” Escal says at a team banquet in their first year with the Otters. It’s the first time she’s had to take the form for more than twenty or thirty minutes at a time, and she’s been scratching at her fur for the last hour. “You have to wear a suit.”

“Yeah,” Connor says, even though he knows it’s not the same. But there’s nothing either of them can do about it, so they might as well pretend.

Her foot inches back up to her haunches, scratching. Connor slides his hand into her fur to soothe the spot.

***

They start practicing the other mascots a couple of months before the draft lottery. It’s pretty obvious what teams are going to be in contention for the first spot, and it’s been obvious to everyone for months—no point in denying it—that Connor’s going to go first. But he practices all the mascots anyway. It would be so embarrassing to go up on that stage and not have his daemon be able to shift correctly.

It’s not hard to get the right general animal type. Escal doesn’t shift a lot these days, but most of these are animals she’s done at some point: bear, lion, duck. The penguin is funny: Escal waddles around for five minutes before she stops laughing.

“I wouldn’t mind that one,” she says. “Ridiculous bird, but it feels a little bit the same, you know?”

“Your bill is the wrong shape,” Connor says, and she uses it to bite at him a little.

That’s the tough part: these teams always have a specific look they’re going for with the daemons. The Bruins, for example—on the rare occasions Escal’s been a bear, she’s been a black bear. Getting her into a grizzly form takes the better part of an afternoon, and she hates it when she gets there, sulking hulkily in the corner and picking her teeth with her claws. Connor kind of feels like he’s hanging out with the monster under his bed.

The cats are the worst, though. “I feel like I should be hunting myself,” Escal says when she’s trying out the panther. The fur over her shoulders ripples.

“Think of it like Halloween,” Connor says. “Being something totally opposite.” But they’re both uncomfortable until she turns back.

The Preds’ cat is the hardest. “I can’t,” Escal says after the fifth time she tries to turn into a saber-tooth and ends up as a house cat. “It just doesn’t feel real.”

“Well, it’s not anymore,” Connor says. But a whole team of guys manage to do it multiple times a week, and they eventually do too: Escal stalking around the bedroom like an illustration in a natural history museum and turning back as soon as she feels like it’s solid.

It’s a tiring few weeks. Connor always comes away from their practice sessions drained and itchy, like he’s wearing the wrong skin, and Escal is worse. She takes off flying for longer than she ever does normally and then sits on his shoulder and preens her feathers for the rest of the night.

By unspoken agreement they leave the Red Wings for last. Escal sits on his hand, and Connor barely feels anything when she shifts from a sparrow to a cardinal. It’s still wrong—sparrows and cardinals are very different birds—but it’s like looking at himself in the mirror with a different haircut, rather than looking at a picture of a stranger. This one actually is the equivalent of wearing a suit.

“They’re not in the bottom eight, though,” she says after she spends two hours as a cardinal and turns back without either of them being bothered.

“You never know what will happen,” Connor says, and then he feels bad about it, like maybe she’ll think he’s lying to himself about how likely it is.

The thing is, this is his dream, not hers. Connor knows that’s how it works: humans live their lives, and their daemons are part of that, but humans call the shots, really. It’s not like daemons are off pursuing independent careers. But most people don’t pick careers that ask their daemons to make this kind of sacrifice.

Escal rubs her head against his ear, feathers tickling. “It’s just like training,” she says. “This is my kind of training.”

He runs a finger along her wing. It’s all the response he can make.

#hockey rpf #1m words week #connor mcdavid #dylan strome #and daemons

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theofficersacademy · 5 years ago

Photo

Sreng was once the name of an enormous peninsula to the north of Fódlan. Today, only the northern half has kept the moniker, while the southern half now falls under the dominion of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Several warlike clans call this great wasteland their home. Certain areas of this region are comprised of rocky desert.

DESTINATION: Sreng

CARDINAL BEAST TARGET: Gofannon, Eagle of the North

A bird-like Demonic beast, akin to the gargoyles of legend. Its intelligence is well-documented, as it has been reported to use weapons, tools, and tricks to get the upper hand on its pursuers. This creature is not known to roam far from its nest, and in fact has been seen plucking weapons, bricks, and other items from the ground and carrying them back home. When provoked, it will abandon the nest and flee to a new location – this has happened twice now, and both times it has moved southward towards Fódlan.

TEAM POST GOAL: 100

TEAM TAG: #ArcadiaGofannon2019 is to be used on all event-related IC posts

Places of Interest

Sreng Outpost: An outpost to the north of Gautier territory manned by their soldiers and owned by the Kingdom. They have historically faciliated relations along the border, and are the first line of defense against incursions by the Sreng people. Compelled by the Church, they have agreed to help, but there is a sense that they would not be opposed to simply letting Gofannon wreak havoc on the Sreng people.

Sea God Shrine: An old and abandoned shrine deep in the heart of the cold desert. In history books, it’s said that the Sreng people worshipped the arrival of a God who came from across the sea. Whatever the case nowadays, the shrine has seen better years, and has fallen thoroughly into disrepair.

Mug Ruith Lands: The immediate patch of barren, rocky steppe adjacent to the Outpost and Gautier territory is owned by the Mug Ruith, what seems to be one tribe but is actually a coalition of three different tribes in the area that have nursed a blood feud against Faerghus for generations, a feud recently renewed by the seizure of their more fertile southlands by King Lambert in his campaign into Sreng in 1168, only a little over a decade ago. If you’re walking around unprepared, use caution. Much of the wildlife in the area is venomous, and unafraid to strike first.

NPCs of Note

Johanna Tyche Kleiman: Viscount Kleiman's eldest daughter and a recent graduate of the Officers Academy. Currently stationed at the Sreng Outpost, she has been forced by her father to address the state of affairs in Sreng. The only thing greater than her resentment of her situation is her reluctance to get involved with the search for Gofannon.

Amadan: A youth of the Mug Ruith who seems different from the rest of his tribe. He says that he’s tired of the bloodthirstiness of his people, and doesn’t believe their claims that the only way to live a life of peace is to take back the land lost to the Fodlaners. Whether you believe him or not, he seems to be the only safe ticket through otherwise extremely hostile lands to search for Gofannon’s whereabouts.

Gaillimh: The representative leader of the Mug Ruith who has fought and proved his way to the head of the coalition, holding his position for many years. Records claim that he’s a terrifying man determined to see the return of Sreng lands, by blood if necessary. Despite the Sreng people’s barbaric reputation, he’s said to be an adept leader, slowly but surely winning over the allegiance of other Sreng tribes despite long histories of inter-tribe conflict.

Mission Task Board

Preparation at Garreg Mach

Before setting out to Sreng, it might be a good chance to learn a little more about where you’re going. Stories of the place abound, but if you’re going there, it’s best to be prepared. The library would be a good start, or maybe you can ask around. It seems like those from Faerghus might have more to offer on the subject.

It’s only been a couple days since the address by the academy heads, but already new chaos has gripped the monastery. The envoy from the Sreng outpost was found dead early in the morning, his body heavily mutilated by what seems to be dark magic and left at the monastery gates. Who would do this?

The Hunt for Gofannon

The Mug Ruith’s guerilla tactics, attacking with weapons dipped in poison, have been impeding scouts’ efforts to search for the Cardinal Beast, and Johanna is getting fed up. She decides that it’s best to strike one of their central villages, the source of much of their food, which comes from their goat-herding practices, to cripple them and send a message. It’s true this will likely deter their aggression, but is there another way? Do you go along with it? [Grants Authority +1]

Following a lead from Amadan, your pursuit of Gofannon brings you to the ruins of the Sea God Shrine. Seemingly cornered, Gofannon turns to fight, but something else rises from the sand, a massive animal made of feathers and scales… Are you seeing double? And now, curiously, Amadan is nowhere to be found.

Traversing the Sreng desert is more dangerous than you’d thought. Scorpions, insects, snakes — every other living thing is poisonous. And if that’s not enough, the sandworms that call the desert home have tunneled under the dunes, leaving sinkholes and precarious ground everywhere. Be careful where you step. You’re pretty sure you read somewhere that one bite from those sandworms paralyzes a full grown man instantly.

Eventually, it comes down to a trap. Gofannon likes to steal, so best to set up something for it to really look at. When huge, feathered wings blot out the sky and a massive avian shape descends, it’s time to put an end to its tyranny. But all of a sudden, Johanna says she’s had enough. The Viscount’s daughter decides that protecting Sreng people from Gofannon isn’t worth risking her life for, and she’s out. Looks like you’re on your own. [Grants Any Skill +1]

Frequently Asked Questions

Can I only thread with my teammates?

‘The Hunt for Gofannon’ tasks, as well as any threads taking place en route to or within Sreng, can only be written with your teammates. ‘Preparation at Garreg Mach’ tasks, or any threads taking place pre-departure at the monastery, can be written with anyone.

These aren’t the only threads I can do, right?

Of course not! These are just prompts to help give some ideas of possibilities. You’re always free and encouraged to make up your own threads.

How do I claim the skill points?

In order to qualify for the skill point, the thread must clearly allude to the listed task and preferably feature the task being completed. You do not need to message the masterlist to claim your skill point.

Can I only do one task?

Nope, you can do as many as you’d like with as many different partners as you’d like! You can do the same task with more than one person! However, you can only claim any skill points once.

What if my partner leaves or drops a skill point thread?

If the dropped thread has at least 5 notes (not counting likes, only reblogs with replies in them) and you have hit at least 400 words on your end, you may still claim the skill point.

My muse has ties to this location. Will this affect any of my headcanons?

All worldbuilding has been written to have little to any relation to playable muses. However, we understand that there are certain muses that have ties to these locations. Anything written by the mods is only for the enjoyment of the event and the benefit of our participants. Embrace, refute, or ignore what you’d like! It’s your city regardless of what team you end up being on or whether or not you choose to participate.

#toa mission #toaarcadia2019

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thepatchworkcrow · 5 years ago

Text

Witchcraft Asks #1-105

So, just for @dearpenumbra and because I’m wide awake and bored and want to answer them: Here is the list of the 105 witchcraft questions I just finished answering. I answered one each day but feel free to answer them all at once or however you want to do it. Tag your it!

1. Are you solitary or in a coven? I am technically a solitary, though I have friends with whom I occasionally celebrate the sabbats and do other witchy things with.

2. Do you consider yourself Wiccan, Pagan, witch, or other? I use ‘Pagan’, ‘witch’, and ‘Druid’ to describe myself. My path of Druidry is inherently pagan because of its reverence of the earth and all life, and it contains practices that are part of witchcraft.

3. What is your zodiac sign? I am a Cancer!

4. Do you have a Patron God/dess? I do, for sake of Tumblr, I call them The Hunter and The Lady of the Lantern. They’re deities I’ve not found in any mythology- sort of my own unique perspective / interaction with the divine forces of the universe, and so I keep the names I call to them in ritual private.

5. Do you work with a Pantheon? I do work with other deities beyond my patron god and goddess. A lot of them are from the various Celtic pantheons and include: Brighid, Gofannon the Smith, Cerridwen, Mannanan Mac Lir, and Gwyn ap Nudd.

6. Do you use tarot, palmistry, or any other kind of divination? I read tarot, runes, and ogham. I own an agate scrying mirror, but it’s very finnicky and I’d love to learn palmistry some day.

7. What are some of your favorite herbs to use in your practice? (if any) I use sage for cleansing, mugwort for a couple of blends of incense for divination, and lavender to cleansing, peace, intuition, etc.

8. How would you define your craft? It’s a path of Druidry dedicated to the Wylde Hunt.

9. Do you curse? If not, do you accept others who do? I have cursed- only in extreme situations, and the curse I used was aimed more at making the target realize how negative and toxic the bullshit they’ve been spewing/causing is. Sort of a “You’re going to realize the full horror of your actions” kind of a thing.

10. How long have you been practicing? The summer solstice will mark my 13th year.

11. Do you currently or have you ever had any familiars? I have familiar spirits: a black dog that goes by the name Yew, and a raven with a gold stripe on its beak named Gildenbeck. I’ve never had a familiar in the sense of a pet who does witchy stuff with me though.

12. Do you believe in Karma or Reincarnation? I believe in reincarnation and that our cations in one life affect the next. I’ve done a past life regression before, but that’s a story for a post that isn’t QUITE this long.

13. Do you have a magical name? I used to. I’ve got through a number of them over the years, changing them out as I see fit. My most recent one was actually the name I started this blog under: Brenna Adaira, but I’ve since outgrown it, and don’t really feel the need for one.

14. Are you “out of the broom closet”? Yes. I have been from the very beginning.

15. What was the last spell you performed? Shit. I don’t even remember. I’m not super big on spells. Anything more complex than carving a candle and charging it with intention to leave burn on my altar is usually not something I bother with.

16. Would you consider yourself knowledgeable? This is a silly question. As I’ve been practicing 13 years, and as someone with a bachelor’s degree, I’d say yes. I am knowledgeable about a number of things. However, I recognize there are many things I’m not knowledgeable about and there is always room for growth and learning.

17. Do you write your own spells? Since they’re very slapdash? Yes. They get written as I’m throwing spell components together to just DO THE THING.

18. Do you have a book of shadows? If so, how is it written and/or set up? I have recently started compiling a more formal grimoire of my path and all of its integral components. My working book of shadows however is always a sketchbook that gets carried around with me literally everywhere. It’s got drawings, scribbled poetry, journal entries, cut and pasted pictures, ritual outlines, musings, research notes, etc. and it’s all pretty out of order and chaotic. But I love the freedom of not having to be too careful with how I structure things and just let everything happen organically.

19. Do you worship nature? I do not worship nature. I honor the forces of nature; I treat them with respect and work to do my best to live in harmony with them. We are part of nature, not separate beings.

20. What is your favorite gemstone? Oof. This is a tough one. Moss Agate or Moonstone... but also Citrine and Opal. xD

21. Do you use feathers, claws, fur, pelt, skeletons/bones, or any other animal body part for magical work? I have a pheasant wing fan I use for smoke cleansing. I also have a small set of antlers that I’m still meaning to make into a proper headdress for ritual wear. Right now, they sit with my statute of The Hunter and the rest of my Wylde Hunt stuff.

22. Do you have an altar? Usually, yes. At the moment I don’t because I’ve been sort of in-transit for months. I’m moving back home at the end of the week though, and setting up an altar is the FIRST thing I intend to do.

23. What is your preferred element? Air. I love wind, stars, storms, gentle breezes through the forest, music, singing, the power of words.

24. Do you consider yourself an Alchemist? Not even in the slightest. XD

25. Are you any other type of magical practitioner besides a witch? Already answered above, but I’m a Druid! ^_^

26. What got you interested in witchcraft? I answered this in my previous post.

27. Have you ever performed a spell or ritual with the company of anyone who was not a witch? Yes! We used to frequently invite non-pagan friends to celebrate sabbats with us. One year, we actually erected a Maypole in my backyard and did a maypole dance.

28. Have you ever used ouija? Nope, and I would never. I don’t need it to speak with my guides, I don’t wanna poke at the dead, and I don’t trust them as reliable tools.

29. Do you consider yourself a psychic? I have strong intuition, but I wouldn’t call myself a psychic.

30. Do you have a spirit guide? If so, what is it? I have a couple, but the main one appears to me as a sort of elven / druidic entity (kinda Tolkien elf-ish with the blonde hair and all that). He goes by the name of Brannan and has been sort of my Druid guide both before and during my OBOD studies.

31. What is something you wish someone had told you when you first started? I wish someone had taught me really basic grounding and centering exercises and energy work first. Instead, I jumped right into gods and spells and rituals and all sorts of silliness early on in my path.

32. Do you celebrate the Sabbats? If so which one is your favorite? I haven’t this past year or so because I’ve been trying to get my bearings post-college again. But my favorite is Midsummer. It’s closest to my birthday, marks the anniversary of my dedication to studying witchcraft, and is just always a super heightened time for me spiritually speaking.

33. Would you ever teach witchcraft to your children? Yes. There’s another, longer blog post coming about my thoughts on this, but the short version of it is that I would rather give them some manner of religious context and collection of traditions and heritage than leave them completely on their own to consider the big universal questions religion is supposed to answer.

34. Do you meditate? Not nearly as often as I would like, but at least a couple of times a month.

35. What is your favorite season? Autumn. I love the gloom and the smell of the leaves, and the rain and how windy it gets, and the colors, and of course all of the things like pumpkin spice and Halloween. It’s another time of deep spiritual work for me. This is when the Wylde Hunt rides, and I mark my progress on my path in devotion to them.

36. What is your favorite type of magick to preform? I don’t actually like doing magick other than charging and burning candles. I’m sort of a lazy witch and usually find it more necessary to do inner work to get through a problem than to try and effect change in the world around me.

37. How do you incorporate your spirituality into your daily life? I take actions that align with my spiritual goals: living in harmony with the natural world, creating beautiful things, never stopping my own growth and learning, and compassion for others. I recycle where I can, try to reduce waste and reuse things. I take walks in nature and spend time in the woods. I stay informed so I can vote in ways that put people in power who care about our world. I take time to notice beauty in small places: a bird flying over head, stars in the winter sky, the way the sun is coming in through a window. When all of life is sacred, the spiritual path is not separate from the rest of your life. It becomes the lens through which you frame your life.

38. What is your favorite witchy movie? If I had to choose.... damn. I really can’t. The triad of Hocus Pocus, The Craft, and Practical Magic kinda take that place. I love them all in different ways.

39. What is your favorite witchy book, both fiction and non-fiction. Why? My favorite witchy books... Non-fiction: Living Druidry by Emma Restall-Orr, because it’s a look at Druidry through a Druid’s eyes. It introduces Druid concepts without the formal textbook layout, and I love reading about her experiences. Fiction: The Tree Shepherd’s Daughter and the associated series by Gillian Summers because who wouldn’t love a book about an elf who talks to trees whose day job to hide among humans is to make furniture to sell at Renaissance Festivals? Like... It’s just good, okay?

40. What is the first spell you ever preformed? Successful or not. This got answered in my last post.

41. What’s the craziest witchcraft-related thing that’s happened to you? And so did this one!

42. What is your favourite type of candle to use? I typically use those cheap chime candles or tealights. They burn down quickly and are easy to get ahold of.

43. What is your favorite witchy tool? I would have to say my drum. I love love love love raising energy with it or doing trance work while drumming.

44. Do you or have you ever made your own witchy tools? All of my wands have been handmade and my altar statues are all sculpted by hand. My ogham staves are handmade, and I’ve made a set of runes in the past, but they weren’t fond of me. XD

45. Have you ever worked with any magical creatures such as the fea or spirits? Ohhhh yes. Lots! The Wylde Hunt is one such example, but I’ve also worked with goblins and other various fae.

46. Do you practice color magic? I use color associations loosely, but don’t adhere to them too much.

47. Do you or have you ever had a witchy teacher or mentor of any kind? I did, sort of. My mom’s best friend was the one who bought me my first tarot deck, taught me how to read, etc. She gave me witchy homework now and then, but it wasn’t really a formal mentorship. She’s like another mother to me though, and I love her lots. <3

48. What is your preferred way of shopping for witchcraft supplies? Unfortunately, my preferred way is no longer possible. My local shop closed down in Feb of 2017 and I have been super sad ever since. I’m still trying to find a suitable alternative.

49. Do you believe in predestination or fate? I believe that we have free will and that the Universe sort of fills in the gaps. I think somethings are sort of “meant” to happen, but I don’t think everything is set in stone.

50. What do you do to reconnect when you are feeling out of touch with your practice? I light candles at my altar and just open myself to the energies, or I go on a walk with my friend, Mark. We always get into super deep conversations that get me back in the vibe.

51. Have you ever had any supernatural experiences? I could fill an ENTIRE post just on this alone, but yes. Plenty.

52. What is your biggest witchy pet peeve? Answered!

53. Do you like incense? If so what’s your favorite scent? I love incense! I tend to burn a lot of Dragon’s Blood, though I’ve recently discovered one called Mountain Heather that I am ALSO in love with.

54. Do you keep a dream journal of any kind? I keep weirdly vivid dreams in the notepad function on my phone. It’s usually right near my pillow and I just tap what I remember in there and try to go back to sleep.

55. What has been your biggest witchcraft disaster? Man, I can’t really think of a time things went horribly wrong to be honest.

56. What has been your biggest witchcraft success? Maintaining my practice and developing it into something uniquely my own.

57. What in your practice do you do that you may feel silly or embarrassed about? I know some people would say having spirit guides and such is silly. There are others who would say that energy work and psychic vampirism and the like are kinda woo-y and weird too.

58. Do you believe that you can be an atheist, Christian, Muslim or some other faith and still be a witch too? Anyone from any religion can be a witch. Witchcraft is a practice, not a religious path. Anyone can learn to raise and manipulate energy regardless of which deity they do/n’t worship.

59. Do you ever feel insecure, unsure or even scared of spell work? I just don’t usually feel a need for it. It’s usually able to be solved by mundane means or by doing inner personal work.

60. Do you ever hold yourself to a standard in your witchcraft that you feel you may never obtain? Don’t we all have perfectly aesthetic rituals that leave us feeling profound as a standard which we don’t ever quite meet? Aren’t we all secretly pining for Tumblr/Instagram worthy altars?

61. What is something witch related that you want right now? I actually really want to get a Tarokka deck, which is a tarot-esque oracle used in the D&D Curse of Strahd campaign. I want them for the campaign, but also to use for actual divination because it sounds like fun to try.

62. What is your rune of choice? I’m very partial to Kenaz (light, illumination, guidance), and Laguz (movement, water travel, magic, intuition).

63. What is your tarot card of choice? The 8 of Cups, The Star, and the 3 of Swords are all sort of cards I look at to determine if I’ll love or hate a deck.

64. Do you use essential oils? If so what is your favorite? I do use some, albeit sparingly. I’m rather fond of patchouli, sage, and a heather one I found.

65. Have you ever taken any kind of witchcraft or pagan courses? I’m currently wrapping up the Order of Bards Ovates and Druids’ Bardic Grade Course.

66. Do you wear pagan jewelry in public? Right now, my everyday necklace is a nine-pointed star which is supposed to represent the 9 sisters of Avalon, of whom Morgan le Fay was one.

67. Have you ever been discriminated against because of your faith or being a witch? Yes. Once, in early high school by a teacher. And once in college by some preppy sorority girl who wandered over to the LGBT clubs’ table at a Campus Life event looking to cause an argument.

68. Do you read or subscribe to any pagan magazines? Not magazines, but I follow a number of blogs both on Tumblr, Patheos, and Wordpress.

69. Do you think it’s important to know the history of paganism and witchcraft? Yes. Absolutely. The Burning Times weren’t about real witches. Modern paganism is not ancient paganism, and the context of myth, traditional practices, etc. are important.

70. What are your favorite things about being a witch? The language and tools I have with which to describe my experiences and think about and interact with the rest of the universe.

71. What are your least favorite things about being a witch? Being a conscious being and co-creator with spirit is freaking hard, yo.

72. Do you listen to any pagan music? If so who is your favorite singer/band? My absolute fave is Damh the Bard, but also give S.J. Tucker and OMNIA a listen. <3

73. Do you celebrate the Esbbats? If so, how? I used to do Dark Moon tea and meditation time with the Dark Goddess. Usually if I do something for any of the moon phases it’s sort of spur of the moment these days.

74. Do you ever work skyclad? I don’t, because I currently lack private space to do so.

75. Do you think witchcraft has improved your life? If so, how? Well, I am an empowered being with knowledge and love of the Universe and the divine connections between us all. I’m also equipped with various techniques for performing inner transformative work as well as affecting change in the world around me. What’s not to love?

76. Where do you draw inspiration from for your practice? My practice is a lot of “Solitary Wicca” meets OBOD druidry, meets a sort of Dragonheart ‘knights of the Old Code’ sort of feel. It’s about nature, creativity, and living honorably.

77. Do you believe in ‘fantasy’ creatures? (Unicorns, fairies, elves, gnomes, ghosts, etc) I do. I don’t believe they exist corporeally in this plane of existence though.

78. What’s your favorite sigil/symbol? I’m not sure I could pick one... but if I had to, I’d say the symbol for Awen.

79. Do you use blood magick in your practice? Why or why not? I’ve used blood in magic exactly twice. Once was in a dedication rite to The Hunter, and the other was to the Wylde Hunt. Both times it was blood from something like a paper cut or popped blister, whatever that was already available. I used it as a potent source of energy but also as a sympathetic tie to myself. Since I was dedicating myself to said entity, using it as a taglock made sense.

80. Could you ever be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t support your practice? Absolutely not. Thank you, next.

81. In what area or subject would you most like your craft to grow? I’m looking to pursue the OBOD’s further courses. I want to become a celebrant for the order and perform marriage, death, etc. rites for others within the order as well as those in the pagan community.

82. What’s your favorite candle scent? Do you use it in your practice? I love candles that smell like mulled spices or coffee or pumpkin. I don’t use them for magic, just for ambiance.

83. Do you have a pre-ritual ritual? (I.e. Something you do before rituals to prepare yourself for them). If so what is it? I ground and center before every ritual. Beyond that, I’m usually doing magic on the fly.

84. What real life witch most inspires your practice? Emma Restall-Orr, whom I’m not sure would identify as a witch. She’s technically a druid and author of various books and I love how gritty and honest and earthy what she shares is.

85. What is your favorite method of communicating with deity? I like to get somewhere quiet, and channel them through sort of automatic writing. I also frequently use visualization / meditation techniques to go to my sacred grove and speak with them there.

86. How do you like to organize all your witchy items and ingredients? What is this... organize you speak of? All spell components are in wee jars in a drawer. xD

87. Do you have any witches in your family that you know of? My mom was a practicing Wiccan when I was little, and my sister has interest in witchcraft.

88. How have you created your path? What is unique about it? Answered in my last post.

89. Do you feel you have any natural gifts or affinities (premonitions, hearing spirits, etc.) that led you toward the craft? If so what are they? I have a strange knack for vibing with plants/crystals/etc. and just knowing what they can be used for. I’ve also always had the ability to sort of see/hear things not there: spirits, fae, etc.

90. Do you believe you can initiate yourself or do you have to be initiated by another witch or coven? To be initiated implies you are entering into a group. The OBOD gives you the opportunity to initiate yourself if you aren’t close enough to a grove, but the point stands that it’s a ritual given to you by someone else. You can dedicate yourself to a specific path, but initiation implies you’re being included in something you once were not included in.

91. When you first started out in your path what was the first thing or things you bought? I’m pretty sure it was a new tarot deck, tbh. It’s been too long. I don’t remember.

92. What is the most spiritual or magickal place you’ve been? Answered in the last post: but Avebury, England.

93. What’s one piece of advice you’d give someone who is searching for their matron and patron deities? They aren’t necessary for a balanced and successful path. I know it can be weird not having a specific god/ddess but it’s really really really not necessary to find one right away to be able to have a successful practice.

94. What techniques do you use to ‘get in the zone’ for meditation? I dim the lights, drink some coffee or wine, get somewhere comfy, and put on some quiet music.

95. Did visualization come easily to you or did you have to practice at it? It used to come a lot more easily to me. I realized I was using it as sort of escapism and stopped, and have been building it back again.

96. Do you prefer day or night? Why? I prefer night. Everyone else is asleep and it gives me time and space to think and work on things without being disturbed.

97. What do you think is the best time and place to do spell work? The best time and place is when and where you need it most.

98. How did you feel when you cast your first circle? Did you stumble or did it go smoothly? We forgot to include a means of opening the circle in our first ritual’s notes. So... sort of a stumble.

99. Do you believe witchcraft gets easier with time and practice? Yes... and no. Because with time and practice, you come to find deeper things, and bigger truths. It builds upon itself.

100. Do you believe in many gods or one God with many faces? In my belief system, all gods are separate beings, but all a part of the Great Song of Creation that gives life to the universe.

101. Do you eat meat, eggs and dairy? I do! No restrictive diets here.

102. What is your favorite color and why? I can’t truthfully pick one. I’m fond of burgundy lately.

103. What is the one question you get asked most by non-practitioners or non-pagans? How do you usually respond? “I really like your necklace; what does that symbol mean?” To which I say “I got it at a renaissance festival; it’s supposed to represent the nine sisters of Morgen LeFay.” which seems to be an acceptable response.

104. Which of your five senses would you say is your strongest? Probably my sight.

105. What is a pagan or witchcraft rule that you preach but don’t practice? “Always cast a circle.” I recommend it for new folks, but I rarely ever actually cast one myself.

#about me #asks #questions #witchy questions

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after-the-fxll · 6 years ago

Note

Meta: Wings and personal space.

Disclaimer: Right, so… you probably mean “write about the psychology of personal space inasmuch as it relates to wings and concerns Aryx,” but what you’re going to get is a huge meta about me blabbing about anything and everything you ever wanted to know about wings for angels and a wee bit on demons in Aryx’s world/verse, including personal space psychology. Enjoy, haha.

Another disclaimer: All of this information comes from from own brain, my own interpretations of lore and mythology surrounding angels and demons, my own interpretations of several movies which inspired angels like Aryx’s creation, and from a series of books I wrote years ago entitled “The Vulture and the Dove.” I never published it, but it was eight books in total, the last two of which I never finished writing unfortunately. Aryx came from the seventh book. I am happy to talk more about the series if anyone wishes to know. =)

Putting this all below a cut because loooong. XD

{BIOLOGY}

Angel Species and Wing Types in Aryx’s World

There are three species of angels in Aryx’s world, only one of which is usually found on earth, with only a few exceptions. The three species are: common angels, archangels, and holy seraphim. There are three species of demons which are thought to mirror these three species of angels, namely: incubi/succubi, archdemons, and infernal seraphim. Aryx is an archangel, so as far as angels go, he is intermediary in power and possesses two pairs of equal-sized wings with a 20ft. wingspan when fully spread.

Common angels have only one pair of relatively small wings. Small meaning a 15ft. wingspan when fully flared. Archangels have two pairs of equally-sized wings, and they are of medium size, meaning about a 20ft. wingspan or a foot or two longer. Holy seraphim have three pairs of wings, one small, one medium, and one large. Their largest wings can have over a 30ft. wingspan depending on if they are male or female. Holy seraphim are usually taller as well, easily reaching heights of 7 or 8ft., whereas common and archangels are usually the same heights as humans.

Angel wings are constructed much like those of birds of prey. They are flesh and blood and bone, and the main bones are hollow to keep their weight low so that flying is easier. There is a central nerve that runs along the main bones, and depending upon how this nerve is treated, one can cripple an angel or really turn him on, heh. The main bones have a joint in the middle, so each wing has a single bend in it. That is true of all angel wings regardless of size or species.

Flight feathers are longer, stiffer, and very important for flying, while feathers are reduced to fluffy downy material at the bases of the wings where the bones and tendons connect to the angel’s shoulder blades. The shoulder blades of angels are much thicker, stronger, and differently-shaped than those of humans. They’are able to pivot, slipping underneath muscle to move the wings during flight.

Emergence of Wings and Early Life

Archangels and holy seraphim that are only found in the heavens are usually created by the gods, coming into being just as they are in adult form rather than being born and growing up from an infant or child. But common angels can breed with each other and humans on earth, and when they are born, they do not have any wings. The milestone of an angel spreading his or her wings for the first time is called “finding” them. Typically, earthborn angels find their wings at around age 5 to 7, depending on their sex. Females find them earlier than males, generally.

When a young angel first finds their wings, they are moist, crumpled, and very weak. Their parents or guardians will help the little angel to wash the wings and will go through a range of motions with them, much like physical therapy. When the wings are deemed strong enough for flight, a parent or guardian will take the young angel up into the sky, holding hands in case the young angel gets tired. It may take months of practice before a young angel can fly on their own.

Aryx is a created archangel, so he did not have to find his wings, but rather was created with them already emerged. He has never known life without them.

Spreading and Retracting Wings

“Spreading” is the act of calling one’s wings from out of one’s back. This is a magical process, as the physical manifestation of the wings is created while being infused with the essence or energy of the wings that is stored in an angel’s back when they are retracted. When an angel spreads his wings, they fly out very quickly, spreading fully before either relaxing or assisting in flight. Because of this, angels need to make sure they have plenty of room to spread their wings or else they could injure themselves.

“Retracting” is the act of withdrawing one’s wings from physical being to store them, as it were, safely within the body of the angel. This is also a magical process, as the essence or spirit of the wings is actually absorbed into an angel’s back while the physical essence disappears.

Common angels retract their wings far more often than archangels or holy seraphim, especially those born on earth. This is because they interact far more with humans and subconsciously often try to blend into human society. Archangels and holy seraphim do not desire to blend in with humans typically and are often far more arrogant about being angels in the first place. They may not hate humans or resent them in any way, it is just that they are incredibly proud of what they are and expect humans to respect them accordingly. Part of that is feeling that they have a right to spread their wings and keep them spread whenever and wherever they choose.

Aryx, as an archangel, feels most comfortable always having his wings spread. He is not nearly as arrogant as most of his kind with regard to humans as he has lived on earth for hundreds of years and worked alongside many capable humans worthy of his respect. Usually he keeps his wings spread, but now and then he will retract them for convenience or blending-in purposes.

Anatomy of Angel Wings vs. Demon Wings

Angel wings are flesh, blood, and bone, and are covered in feathers. They do not possess any scales, talons, or webbed skin. Demons, on the other hand, depending on their species, have completely different wings. Their wings are not flesh, just bone and skin. They also possess sharp talons and may have scales according to species. Think… birds vs. bats, or birds vs. dragons, as far as structure is concerned.

Demon wings are brown or black, and angel wings are white or pale gray. In very rare cases where angels fall from grace or demons have their wings transformed into angel wings, the feathers will be brown or black.

Aryx is a fallen archangel, but he is only fallen physically, not morally. Therefore, his wings possess clean, white feathers. If you want to read more about the difference between physically fallen and morally fallen angels, I shall direct you to this post here.

Angel Feather Composition

Angel feathers look soft and inviting, but they can be deadly. They are actually far stronger than any feathers known to humans. The spines are like needles, and the hairlike fibers that make up the “fluff” of the feathers are actually like fine steel. To touch them, as long as you go with the grain and are gentle, they feel as soft as any bird feathers one might touch. But in battle, an angel’s wings can become weapons. I’ll cover that more in the battle section later.

{PSYCHOLOGY}

Personal Space and Etiquette

Angels do not like anyone they don’t know or trust touching or even getting near their wings. Besides fear of physical harm and simple shyness on the angel’s part, they consider it extremely rude and even outright insulting for anyone to touch their wings without asking first. Some more prideful and arrogant angels even believe asking is rude, heh. The general rule is to just don’t touch angel wings, and if you really want to be brazen, at least ask first.

Aryx is not arrogant about his wings, but he is cautious with them. He appreciates very much when someone asks first, and in most cases he will allow humans to touch his wings so long as they are gentle about it. He understands how interesting and inspiring angel wings can be to humans and has no problem indulging them as long as they treat him with respect. This is not true of most angels, though, who prefer that humans do not touch their wings.

Perching and Resting

I’m going to direct you to a post I have already written on this topic to save some time and space here. =)

Aryx does not sleep in a bed. Well he doesn’t sleep at all, heh. He rests and slips in to a lower state of consciousness, perching on chairs or window sills, most often.

Emotional Connection

Angels love their wings. Really. They love them. Deeply. They care for them meticulously, take pride in their cleanliness and size and beauty, and take comfort in their warmth while they rest. Female angels consider their wings part of their overall beauty as a whole, while males tend to view theirs as part of their manhood. Angelhood? XD But yeah, angels feel a deep love and affection for their wings, and so they are emotionally affected when bad things happen to them.

Aryx absolutely adores his wings. They’re his friends, his protectors, his comforters, everything. He spends a lot of time grooming them and inspecting them to make sure they’re healthy and clean, and he is always very careful with them. Unless he is in battle, in which case he is as careful as he can be while still getting the job done.

Breaking or Losing a Wing

Basically, this is devastating to an angel on so many levels. The physical pain alone is enough to send an angel into severe shock and if they are not properly trained or conditioned to deal with such pain, they will fall right out of the sky if their wing is broken or severed in battle. Even if an angel is battle ready and able to push through the pain, the emotional toll is akin to a death for them.

Losing a wing is like losing a loved one, and unless one can get to a holy seraph quickly (the only creatures besides the gods themselves capable of reattaching a severed limb), a lost wing is… lost forever. Angels can survive losing a wing if the wound is cauterized and they are able to rest, but the emotional loss takes years to overcome, and even then it never fully heals.

If a wing is broken and it heals crooked, or if an angel loses a wing and has a stump in its place, their confidence will suffer greatly for it. It’s considered personally shameful, ugly, and freakish to have such an injury, while other angels and humans may look upon an angel with such an injury as lucky to be alive or even a hero depending upon the circumstances surrounding the injury. because of this, angels with crooked or missing wings can be some of the most unfriendly and standoffish you will ever meet. This is exacerbated if the angel is common and only has two wings to begin with. A broken or lost wing in that case may prevent the angel from flying ever again, which they may feel is shameful, but it is also yet another emotional loss for them.

Mood Expression

An angel’s wings can be read and are revealing of an angel’s mood or temperament as well as his facial expressions. Something that should be made clear is that an angel is a whole being that is not human, not a human with wings, or a creature with cold, sterile wings attached to their back for no reason. They are a winged, non-human creature, and their wings are a major part of their life. So just as humans will slump their shoulders or frown or cringe or stand straighter or whatever according to their emotions, angels do all that and more. Their wings are an added form of expression that happens as instantly and naturally as facial expressions. Two of the most common examples of an angel expressing emotion through his wings are flaring and dropping.

Flaring is when an angel extends and spreads his wings to their fullest capability, often also lifting them up a little rather than having them completely horizontal. That’s if they only have two wings. If they have two or three pairs of wings, the pairs will cascade as they flare, with all pairs being fully extended but spreading out like petals on a flower around the angel. Angels do this for two reasons usually. Sometimes they are trying to intimidate an enemy by appearing larger, proclaiming their species (if a higher form of angel), or frightening smaller enemies by flaring their wings quickly. Basically, “I dare you to mess with me,” as they display their power. The other case is when an angel is just trying to assert himself over someone else. Maybe he is in a heated argument or feels that he has been insulted in some way, and he wants to demand respect or make a point. Flaring always denotes pride in oneself and self-confidence in an angel. Think of it as a posturing action, much like peacocks flaring their feathers.

Example: Gabriel arrogantly flaring his wings upon his arrival in Legion

Aryx only really flares his wings when asked by humans to show them, or if confronted by demons. Because he is an archangel, most demons on earth do not expect to see an angel of his power. So flaring his wings reveals his species and will frighten away most common demons on earth.

Dropping is the opposite of flaring and denotes a lack of confidence, remorse, guilt, or sorrow in an angel. Typically an angel’s wings will be folded behind him when they are dropped, and it may be anything from a few inches that they’ll lower to actually laying on the ground, depending upon why the angel is upset. A minor drop may just indicate that something is on their mind or that they feel badly about something and it’s a minor show of a bad mood in general. If an angel is laying his wings on the ground, there is something seriously wrong and someone should really talk to him about it, heh.

Aryx drops his wings often in subtle manners, especially listening to humans talk. Humans have a lot of strife in their lives and Aryx is a very compassionate and empathetic individual, so hearing about the losses and troubles of others affects him emotionally, which can be observed in his wings.

Morality

An angel’s wings will change color (from light to dark) and their feathers may even begin to fall out if they engage in evil/immoral behavior. This is actually a sickening of the angel physically, for evil acts breed unholy and negative energy, and their bodies are naturally built for and empowered by holy and positive energy. So they are essentially poisoning themselves with evil acts.

I will direct you to this post on fallen and corrupted angels, as it goes into some detail about wings as well.

{NSFW}

As I mentioned earlier, the central nerves of angel wings can cause an angel great pain or pleasure depending upon how they are touched. They are very sensitive, and the proper caresses of an angel’s wings in the right places can really light his fire, so don’t do this unless you’re trying to start something with him, haha.

Aryx is very good about informing humans and others who are not aware of this sensitivity in angel wings to not touch them in certain ways. He might turn a little red and even grin shyly, but just calmly corrects the situation. Unless of course your muse is trying to rile him up in that manner, in which case he’ll like it if he’s receptive toward your muse.

{IN BATTLE}

Wing Structure According to Species Purpose

The reason for the increase in the number of wings as angel species become more powerful is two-fold. More wings means more power, speed, and control in the air. More wings also means that a wing may be impaired or lost and the owner will still be able to fly. This makes sense when one considers the usual occupations of the different species of angels.

Common angels on earth can live quietly and peacefully alongside humans if they choose. Archangels are usually only found in the heavens and are employed guarding the gates of the common heaven, which is where human souls are housed. So they need to be more battle ready than common angels. Holy seraphim are the generals of the gods of light, commanding other angels in battle and charging forth first into danger. They need to be the most battle ready and most able to sustain injuries to their wings and remain flying.

Angels vs. Demons

Most battles between angels and demons take place in the air. Whether on earth or in the heavens, angels and demons naturally take to the air when threatened. They employ different strategies when trying to kill or take an enemy out of commission, but for the most part they’re both trying to drop their enemies out of the sky.

Angels will try to rip the taught skin of demon wings so that they can no longer hold the air. They may also try to sever demon wings with weapons like swords.

Demons will only try to sever angel wings if they are large and strong enough to cut through them or break the main bones. Angel wings are not as fragile as demon wings, so this is often difficult. Because of this, most demons try to either injure angel wings such that they are in too much pain to fly, or they may even resort to setting them on fire, since their feathers catch easily.

Aryx has thankfully never completely lost a wing in battle, although he has broken several of them and had one very nearly severed during his fall to earth. He was healed by a human soul knight (like a priest/sorcerer combination) very soon after, but the emotional trauma followed him for a long time afterward.

Angel Wings as Weapons and Shields

As I mentioned earlier, angel feathers are actually made from steel-like fibers and spines. They don’t look like steal, they look like normal feathers, but because angel wings are magical appendages, the feathers they are far stronger than mundane bird feathers. Because of this, angels can use their wings as weapons or shields, whether fighting in the sky or on land.

Angels have two main types of attacks they can make with their wings. They only do so if absolutely necessary, for their wings are precious to them, but very often with demons and other adversaries they may face, they are just as magical creatures as the angels are, so mundane weapons may not pierce their hides.

One attack they can do is to flick their wings quickly and release a few of their largest flight feathers, which will fly out like daggers. They can impale or even pierce clean through enemies depending on who they’re aiming at. This is risky, though, because if the feathers are collected by demons, the angel may be in serious danger, but I’ll cover that in the liabilities section.

The second attack is to pivot on their feet or spin in the air fast enough to flatten their wings and slice in a circle around them. When they do this, any beings very close to them will be sliced by the angel’s feathers, so long as their hide is not enough of a protection. Angels can cut human beings in half with their wings if they so choose, but of course they usually do not.

Angels can also use their wings as defensive shields, blocking blades and bullets. In medieval times, they could shield humans from sword blows, and in more modern times, they can protect them from gunfire, by enveloping them in their wings. They can only do this, however, if they are ready to do so. If they’re caught unaware, bullets and other piercing or even slicing weapons will injure their wings and knock out feathers. But if they are prepared and going on the defensive, they will turn and interlock their feathers in a certain way that makes them like strong steel mesh, impervious to mortal weapons. When in this defensive mode, angel wings are actually far sturdier than the rest of their bodies. Angels can be shot or stabbed in their bodies, but not while their wings are defensively postured and prepared. It only takes seconds for them to properly prime their feathers, but again, if the angel is caught off guard, all bets are off.

Example: Gabriel using his wings as both shields and weapons against humans in Legion

Example: Gabriel fighting a fallen, wingless Michael and using his wings to his advantage in Legion

Aryx fights very much like the angels in Legion do, using a combination of a weapon (a sword in his case) together with his wings. Using wings in this manner are as natural to angels as punching with fists or kicking is to humans, as they are perfectly natural appendages that all angels are used to having.

Angel Feathers as Blessings

Angels do lose feathers, just like birds. Some feathers die or get tugged weirdly and are now sitting funny, so as part of the grooming process, angels will pluck dying or out-of-place feathers. New ones will grow in their places. If a feather is needed, they may just pluck one to use for spells. Angel feathers are very powerful spell components, and depending upon if someone of good or evil inclination finds them, they can be used for holy or unholy spells.

Angels will bless their fallen or plucked feathers and give them to individuals they want to protect. This is not always done under battle conditions, but is usually done if they suspect someone maybe be a target of attack in the future. Keeping a blessed angel feather on your person will grant you minor healing abilities or may protect you from attacks, depending on the reason it was granted. If you’ve received an angel feather, you are trusted, for it is dangerous to let feathers fall into the wrong hands.

AngelFeathers as Liabilities

Fallen feathers that are picked up by demons or priests of evil deities can be used in rituals for evil magic. They can fuel dangerous spells that could take innocent lives and could even be used to locate or remotely injure the angelic owner of the feathers. Because of this, demons would often scour battlefields after the battles were through to see if any feathers could be found.

Captured angels were sometimes subjecting to severe pluckings of their feathers, rendering their wings all but bald in order to gain enough feathers to fuel whatever devious spell the priest or demon in charge had in mind. Unfortunately, angels captured in this manner were most often killed shortly after all their feathers were plucked, unless they managed to be rescued in time.

Aryx has been known to pluck out perfectly good feathers for use as tokens of protection and spell components to protect those he cares about.

And there you have it, folks! I think? I covered? Everything? XD But if anybody has any more questions about things I may not have mentioned here, please ask away! =)

#angels #angel lore #archangels #angel wings #angels and demons #{when I finally answer this ask 89 years later haha}#{sorry for the wait}

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themurphyzone · 7 years ago

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Wings and Things

I’m starting to ship these two. Help. Each little ficlet is based on a different song.

Lost Twin AU belongs to @donaldtheduckdad.

1. Flying Without Wings

“Ninety-one, ninety-two, ninety-aw!”

A sharp point on a small statuette of an unknown duck punctured the balloon, popping it instantly. Launchpad laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dewey shook his head. “Sorry, man. Maybe you’ll have better luck at beating my record next time!”

Launchpad scooped him up, setting him down on his broad shoulders. “You win some and you lose some. I hold the record for the largest living jungle gym. Wait, no, I don’t. Not yet. I’d need a bunch of kids for that sorta thing.”

Huey, Louie, and Webby instantly attached themselves to his limbs, giggling as Dewey gave him directions so that he didn’t bump into anything while his eyes were covered.

She had never witnessed a man so good with children that he willingly became a living jungle gym. Aside from his employment under Scrooge McDuck, Launchpad hadn’t changed one bit from the dorky, sweet guy she knew in flight school.

Sweet. Della had just described him as sweet.

She inwardly groaned. Romance was the least of her worries. She had her children to take care of. Their needs would always come first. They had grown up fine without their biological father.

More importantly, without her brother’s encouragement and determination.

If Donald had been here, would he have approved of Launchpad? After all, it took a great character to work under someone infamous for their stinginess and short fuse. Launchpad had never given up on Scrooge even when Della had lost faith in him.

Someone who never let temperament get in the way, someone who could protect children, someone strong and honest about everything....

He could make her soar without an airplane. And she wasn’t sure why.

2. You Can Fly (Or Crash)

The unexpected snow and ice were considered too hazardous for those in training to attempt practicing taking off and landing. Launchpad huffed, his breath coming out in a small cloud of white. He’d been flying and crashing before he could even walk.

Literally. His parents were fond of recalling the time he’d crawled into the cockpit of a biplane and somehow started the engine. The story ended with the neighbor’s barn destroyed, but it served to remind people that he had pilot’s blood in his veins.

With his lessons cancelled, he had enough free time to admire the winter wonderland around him. The snow came down in a gentle breeze, though not heavy enough to be considered a blizzard.

And skating in the middle of the frozen pond was the main attraction of the winter wonderland herself.

White flakes were caught in her scarf and goggles, nearly blending in with her feathers. Launchpad couldn’t stop himself. She was so beautiful. He had to say something.

“Della!” he yelled, waving his arms at her. “You’re cool! I mean, not as cool as the snow, since it’s at freezing point, and that would be bad for your body if you were at 32 degrees, but still pretty cool!”

Della whipped around, tucking a feathery strand of her hair behind her head. “Wait, Launchpad! Stay where you-”

Launchpad rushed out to meet her, only for his feet to slide out from under him. His arms flapped like a windmill as he accelerated across the ice, drifting headfirst into a snowbank. He shook his head, dazed by the impact.

Someone latched onto his legs and yanked him out. He grinned at Della. “Hey.”

Della rolled her eyes, amused. She was even more beautiful when she gave him that exasperated ‘Oh, Launchpad’ look. “I see you’ve taken the crash course in ice skating.”

And she made puns too.

“I see you’ve been taking the crash course into my heart,” he shot back.

Della immediately pelted him with a snowball.

3. Wind Beneath My Wings

Launchpad was a hero. He had all the makings of one. Honesty, courage, kindness, loyalty....

One couldn’t have asked for a better confidant.

She could soar, do tricks, and fight like no tomorrow. Repairing a broken wing or landing gear was second nature.

But at night, she couldn’t sleep. She checked on her boys, she wandered the empty, silent halls, and she replayed the memories of that night in her head. Days were easy. She had stuff to distract her, something to keep her hands busy and mind sharp.

Night brought the memories, the what-ifs, the ‘Is Donald dead or is there a chance I can see him again one day?’ question that nagged her with no end in sight.

Launchpad was often up getting a midnight snack. Her feet took her to the kitchen. He had a certain magnetism around him, that’s for sure.

He was there.

He lifted his gaze from his sandwich and gave her a small smile. Della sat down in the chair next to him, her head hung low.

Launchpad put his sandwich down, moving his chair closer to her. Della’s hand moved to rest on the soft fabric of his sleeve. He rubbed her back gently.

She wrapped her arms around his arm, glancing at his face. His eyebrows raised in surprise, but his eyes were soft and understanding.

Della shifted closer until she could lean on him.

She mentally added ‘Physically and emotionally supportive’ to her list of Launchpad’s qualities.

No words needed to be exchanged. Somehow he knew exactly what she needed.

4. Let Me Be Your Wings

“So you wanna be the pilot or the engine?” Launchpad asked eagerly.

“What does that mean?” Della laughed.

Launchpad shrugged. “Well, without the pilot, the engine could never start. And without the engine, a pilot wouldn’t be a pilot.”

“You do realize co-pilots exist?” Della said.

He blinked. “Yes...but I like my way of saying it better.”

Della nodded, even if she didn’t really understand what he was trying to get at. Then again, Launchpad had a way of saying things that shouldn’t have been so sweet, but somehow they were.

“And we could go to space together!” Launchpad continued. “We could do loop-de-loops around Saturn’s rings! Maybe see a Martian or two?”

“Uncle Scrooge wouldn’t like us using up fuel for daredevil tricks,” Della reminded him. “No matter how tempting it is.”

Launchpad was on his game today. She didn’t know how she felt about that.

“So if we were two parts of the same bird, I think I’d like to be the wings.”

5. On the Wings of Love

“This is your pilot speaking,” Launchpad’s voice came over on the intercom. “Testing, testing, one, two, three!”

“They can hear you, Launchpad!” Scrooge complained.

Della kept a watchful eye on the kids while Launchpad and Scrooge were handling business in the front. She grinned at the sound of Launchpad’s voice.

The kids paused in their high-stakes card game of War and listened. Della moved Louie’s hand away from the card pile as he tried to discretely search for the aces while everyone was distracted.

“We’ll touch down in the Canary Islands in one hour. Until then, please enjoy the in-flight entertainment we’ve provided,” Launchpad announced.

“So we finally getting one of those airplane monitors you can play games and watch movies on?” Louie asked.

Della shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“On the wings of love, up and above the clouds,” Launchpad crooned into the mic, his voice washing over her like the gentle but firm tug of the wind. “The only way to fly is on the wings of love.”

Dewey and Webby stuck out their tongues at the love song. Huey wrote down the words to look up on the Internet as soon as they had wifi.

Della could feel a blush creeping up. She quickly raised her collar to hide her cheeks.

“On the wings of love, only the two of-ACK!” There was an audible smack as Launchpad sounded as though the wind was knocked out of him.

“I pay you a penny a mile to be a pilot, not a casanova!” Scrooge snapped. “Serenade my niece off the clock, ya hear?”

“Why does your mom have that weird grin on her face?” Webby asked.

Dewey pretended to hurl. “That’s gross, and unnatural. I think she’s under a spell of some kind.”

Della let them argue about the possibility of Launchpad being able to control her mind with magic.

Maybe, just maybe, there was something to letting him co-pilot her heart after all.

#ducktales 2017 #della duck #launchpad mcquack #huey dewey and louie #scrooge mcduck #fanfiction

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lucius-ii · 7 years ago

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a collection of firsts

i. wand

The family wand (18” elm wood with a dragonheartstring core) would be his only once he left Hogwarts and assumed his role as the head of their House. So, one sunny day in August, Lucius and Abraxas Malfoy made their way to Diagon Alley. Despite his halfbood status, Ollivander was the greatest wandmaker in the magical world and Abraxas was always insistent that Malfoys only deserve the best. His father held their family wand, tucked away in the walking stick that had been passed down alongside it for generations. Lucius wondered how close the wand that chose him would be to that ancient thing. Would his father be terribly disappointed if the core was unicorn hair or the wood was rowan or chestnut? His palms began to sweat in his pockets as his father waved the shop door open with a lazy flick of his wrist. What if no wand chose him? He could feel the magic in his veins, feel it push out of his body when his moods became extreme. Just the day before, his mother’s Augury had startled him as he left his room, his magic had sent the poor bird flying across their foyer. But what if that magic wasn’t enough for a wand to choose him? What if he was the first squib in the Malfoy family? Endless, baseless worries flew through the boy’s mind as his father spoke to the old man behind the counter – was that really Ollivander? He looked so infirm beside his father. Abraxas was an imposing presence. A tall man dressed finely in all black with emeralds clasping his summer-wool cloak, his silver-blond hair tied back in a low tail that pulled his already severe features into an expression of disinterest, disdain, and pure arrogance. Lucius straightened his back, taking his hands from his pockets. He was his father’s son. This was his world. A smirk grew on his lips as he approached the counter, a hand lazily raised to receive the first wand – holly, 10 ¼”, unicorn core – a shower of red sparks followed, setting a discarded quill to smolder. The second wand flew out of his hand practically as soon as the old man had placed it there. Abraxas sneered, “We don’t have all day, Garrick, it shouldn’t be so difficult to find my boy a wand.” The wandmaker nodded and slipped to the back of the shop. He returned a few moments later holding a 12 ¾” hawthorn wand with dragon heartstring core. Lucius took the wand and the magic in his body reached into it, his blood singing in his veins. A spray of gold erupted from the tip, straightening the wands on the shelves and putting right to the mess of papers on the other side of the counter. Even Ollivander’s clothes were freed of the dust that had fallen on him as he had searched to find this wand. A true smile grew on young Lucius’s face and he could have sworn he saw the same swell of happiness in his father’s pale eyes. A small pouch of galleons was tossed from his father’s pocket onto the counter – “Keep the change, Garrick, and perhaps invest in the purchase of a house-elf to keep your shop in better shape.” – and the Malfoys swept out of the shop. Lucius could barely keep the smile off his face as they walked down the crowded streets to continue their errands. The ghost of a smile was mirrored on his father’s lips, “Let’s stop here, Lucius,” they were standing near the entrance of Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, “Such a day deserves some celebration.”

ii. fear

Ophelia Yaxley married Abraxas Malfoy for duty. He was chosen for her by her father – or perhaps she was chosen for him by his father. They had known each other peripherally at school, they had been the same year but she had found herself in Ravenclaw rather than Slytherin. She was the best wife she could be to a man like Abraxas. He wielded political power with as much confidence as he wielded magic and expected nothing less than perfection from his family. Ophelia was nothing if not an expert at feigning perfection. A carefully crafted mask painted onto her face every day, her honey-blonde hair pulled back into a chignon, jewels dripping from her ears and throat. Publicly, she exuded the old power of the Sacred Twenty-Eight through every look and gesture. But behind the closed doors of their extravagant home, she was a soft woman. She loved magical creatures, caring in particular for those who took to the skies. An Augurey called Wugsworth was her favorite pet. The sad bird moaned miserably, echoes of his cries filling the halls eerily. Lucius had been afraid of the Irish Phoenix at first. He was a shy creature, more often heard than seen, his vocalizations finding their way into Lucius’s dreams. The young wizard had cried to his mother at age 5, begging for her to make the beast stop crying, to take him away, anything. Ophelia smiled and simply took her son’s hand, leading him up to the tower where Wugsworth was housed. The boy stiffened his lip, not wanting to cry if his mother was unconcerned, but the worry in his belly grew the closer they drew to the sad song. He had never been to this tower in their home, it was his mother’s space alone, and the unfamiliar twists and turns of the passageway only lent to his dread. Finally they arrived to the aviary, the grand door swinging open at their approach. The windows that paneled the room were tall and thin with no glass to keep the wind and weather from this room. The great blue-grey bird sat on his perch at the center of the room, cooing sadly to himself. At the sight of his mistress, Wugsworth took wing, a triumphant cry springing from his sharp beak. His quick approach caused Lucius to jump back, hiding himself behind his mother’s form. The witch smiled serenely, her arm extended for her beloved pet to settle himself on. He did, trilling softly as he stretched his neck to groom Ophelia’s hair. A laugh bubbled from her lips, a rare sound in their home, and she drew Lucius further into the room. Lowering herself and the bird to his eye level, she held her arm towards her son. “There is nothing to fear, my sweet, poor Wugsworth has a sad disposition. He doesn’t wish to make you scared or unhappy, he was simply born sounding so mournful. His cries tell us only that it will rain tomorrow,” a wail from Wugsworth caused them both to start, “Or perhaps tonight, with the way he’s going on!” Her smile made the boy more confident and he reached a hand to touch the silken feathers on the top of the Augurey’s head. The bird closed his eyes and cooed in a way that could almost be described as happy. Emboldened by this, a smile grew on his face to match his mother’s. For a time they stayed like that, Ophelia crouched before Lucius, holding the bird on her arm for her son to pet. Wugsworth soon stretched his wings, shaking his feathers. They caught they light so beautifully, Lucius was distracted by their glamour and did not realize what the beast was about to do. He jumped from Ophelia’s arm as if to take flight, but chose instead to settle himself on the young boy’s head. Lucius froze for a moment, unsure what to do under the weight of Wugsworth. The bird’s long tail feathers blocked his vision and a small keening noise escaped his mouth without thought. Wugsworth began to harmonize with the boy’s whining cry, causing Ophelia to erupt into true laughter, “Oh my boys, what a pair you make!”

iii. kiss

They were 14. Hidden away on the grounds of her family’s estate, the pair had procured both firewhiskey and a clumsily-rolled joint. It was a lazy summer afternoon; the House of Black was throwing their annual midsummer ball the next night so the household had more important concerns than the whereabouts of two children. Bellatrix had lead him into the pendulous branches of an ancient willow tree, her wild dark hair catching some of the leaves on the way in. Lucius couldn’t help but smile, taking care that his own hair remained intact and without leaves. Bella rolled her eyes, “No need to be so concerned, Lady Malfoy, it’s only us,” she quipped merrily at his primping, already settling herself comfortably in the roots of the great tree. Lucius sat near her, their knees knocking together, “I’m carrying precious cargo here,” he replied, pulling the small joint from behind his ear, “Of course, I’m referring to this gorgeous head of hair,” he teased, flipping said hair over one shoulder while he took his wand from his pocket. Bella pulled the flask they had snuck from the kitchens from her own robes, taking a great swig before passing it to Lucius. The amber liquid scorched his throat and filled his chest with burning bravado. He offered the joint to Bellatrix – this little excursion had been her idea after all, as most of their adventures were – she took it with a smile, placing it between her lips. She reached for her own wand but Lucius stopped her, “Ah, ah! Haven’t you heard? Pretty girls don’t light their own cigarettes -er-joints?” a quiet incendio produced a small flame from the tip of his wand which he held to the tip of the joint. The glow of his wand was reflected in the depths of her dark eyes, her whole face was made warm by the spell. He couldn’t help but stare at the purse of her lips as she sucked in the smoke, her own eyes on his face. Her confident inhale was followed by a cacophony of coughing, the smoke puffing into a cloud between them. She giggled at her own inexperience, passing the joint to Lucius’s waiting hand. His own inhale was followed by his own cough, “Merlin, that’s harsh!” he managed to choke out, earning him a laugh from Bellatrix, “Come now, Lucy, you can’t be giving up on me!” her second draw was smoother, no coughing accompanied her exhale and Lucius was determined to keep pace with her. That’s all he could ever do, keep up with the pace she set. She was his closest friend – besides Augustus, but girl friends were so different than boy friends – and he had spent their childhood desperate to find something he excelled in over her. So far partying was the only contender and that was not necessarily a skill that befit a wizard of his status, but even now it seemed like Bellatrix was better at smoking than him, so perhaps all he had was drinking. He took another long swig of firewhiskey before taking the joint again. They sat like that awhile, passing the substances between them, teasing each other as they always did. His eyes began to grow heavy and his whole body tingled with the intermixing of alcohol and weed. He was so aware of his leg against hers, the warmth of her body beside his, an airy feeling growing in his chest. Bellatrix took a final puff, the joint down to practically nothing. As she did, the ember caught her finger tips, “Fuck!” she exclaimed, dropping the last bit to the ground and bringing her fingers to her lips to wet them with her tongue. Lucius could not stop himself from taking her hand from her mouth and bringing it to his own. So close, they were so close, the smell of her hair and the softness of her skin flooding his mind. He could not stop himself, could never want to stop himself, from leaning forward and pushing a clumsy kiss to her lips. It only took a moment for her to kiss him back, their hands clasped together. He had forgotten to breath and their kiss was broken only a moment later so he could gasp for breath. He grinned sheepishly at Bellatrix who could only give him another eye roll despite the smile on her own lips, “You’re lucky you’re so pretty or I’d never have let you get away with that.”

#.inspo #.inspomalfoys #.inspobellatrix #morsmordre points

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