#Just likes food and cozy places to roost in | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

delimeful · 4 years ago

Text

the end of being alone (2)

donation drive commission for @bumblebeekitten for the next chapter of TEOBA, with the prompt: patton & virgil fluff! hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

chapter 1

warnings: miscommunication, false impression of a very bad situation for like .5 seconds, recklessness, sometimes you just gotta have a good cry

The next sunrise, they set out again, this time with considerably less weaponry and considerably more snacks. Roman held point again, since he was the one with the most practical experience in tracking.

There had been a somewhat tedious argument on whether or not Patton should come, one that Roman had thoroughly lost, since it was Patton’s quick thinking and emotional attunement that kept the previous cycle’s encounter from descending into disaster.

He had acquiesced in the end under the combined force of Logan’s reasoning and Patton’s disappointed look, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. After catching barely a wink of sleep between restless nightmares, he was feeling more grumpy than generous.

Still, his own irritation faded as they grew closer to the rocky cliffs where he suspected the Human was, shifting into an intense concentration on the task ahead. It was a miracle that their initial encounter hadn’t gone sour, a miracle that this Human seemed young enough to be somewhat nonaggressive, and while he hoped that whatever they had said to scare the young kit off hadn’t irreparably damaged their budding acquaintanceship, he wasn’t counting on it.

He had his underarmor on for a reason.

The other two didn’t quite share his concerns. Logan’s arms had been in an excited, information-gathering flurry practically non-stop since they set out, and he and Patton had been discussing the plants and insects in the nearby forest that were relatively non toxic to them (and so would probably be no issue for a Human), and how many nutrients they would provide. None of them knew how much or what a Human needed to eat, but Patton seemed firmly of the opinion that whatever the kid was eating, it wasn’t enough.

“Fledgelings need plenty of food and the proper nutrients to grow up healthy! A lone child in the middle of one forest can’t possibly have all the variety they need in their diet,” the Ampen insisted, feathers fluffing up at the mere idea of a kid going hungry.

“Another important factor to note is the planet itself is not the child’s home, and so may not have the necessary nutrients available at all, let alone in one localized area,” Logan added.

“You two have enough variety in those packs to weigh down a mountain,” Roman interjected, “so how about we focus on not scaring the kid off before we even reach them. Human senses are ludicrously strong, enough so that they’ll hear you two yakking a parsec away.”

They agreed to be stealthier, and just in time, because Roman was pretty sure he’d found a more solid trail than the ghost-like faded prints that seemed all to trek over the place. He gestured in Crav’n sign for the two of them to stay put and stay quiet, and then followed the fresh tracks until they came to the mouth of a small cave amongst the crevices and steep drops of the pale cliffs.

He slowly stalked into the cave, keeping his movements light and quiet even as the light grew dimmer and his vision more restricted. Before it could grow too dim, however, his gaze caught on round, un-rock-like silhouettes.

It took a moment to identify the shapes as small, limp Humlilts, all piled up around the larger Human. He nearly physically recoiled at the sight. So, this was why the small creatures had gone missing: slaughtered en masse at the hand of a Deathworlder. Not for food nor shelter, not in defense of itself or others, just for the sake of the callous cruelty and disregard for life that Humans were apparently born with.

Humlilts were small, but Patton was scarcely bigger. Once the Human got tired of playing at mimicry, would it try to add the Ampen to the hoard of bodies?

He wasn’t going to lose another family.

Almost against his will, a low, near-subsonic growl rumbled out of his throat. He took one advancing step forward, and then…

And then, a tiny head poked up from the pile, small dark eyes staring at him over a long snout.

Roman nearly tripped over his own feet, astonished. There was still a living Humlilt in there?

Before he could even finish his thought, another head appeared, and then another, until there was a sea of fluffy faces and huge ears all pointed in his direction. The undersized ungulates were fine, each and every one of them. They had simply been sleeping, all cozied up with one of the most dangerous species in the universe.

Roman felt a strange and overwhelming mixture of relief and shame, his scales flattening down guiltily. It was too late, though, the movement had already rippled through the group until it reached the Human. Their creepy mask was absent in rest, and they pawed at their eyes sleepily as they sat up to see what all the commotion was about. There was a red mark on one of their cheeks from where it had pressed against the cave floor.

The moment they saw who stood at the entrance of their little nook, all the color drained from their face. The Humlilts shifted uneasily, and Roman found himself bracing to have thirty miniscule sets of horns charging at him. They couldn’t really hurt him, but they were persistent little things, and Patton and Logan would not be happy if a bunch of Humlillts tried to drive them away from the Human before they’d even properly spoken.

Instead of siccing the plethora of tiny mammals on him, though, the kid whistled a few notes in a perfect echo of the Humlilts all-clear call, settling them down. They carefully detangled themself from the pile, trailing a few stray twigs and leaves behind them in the process. Roman wondered absently how long they’d been building the collection of plant matter that covered them.

A few parting trills later, the kid was in front of him, holding their bony shoulders firm but unable to conceal the tremor in their legs. They raised their chin up in what looked like a friendly Crav’n greeting, but attitude-wise seemed more along the lines of a challenging stance.

“No hurt,” they said firmly before Roman could say a word. “No hurt small--,” a few words in their own language here, “--small good. No hurt. No hurt. Yes?”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Roman tried to reassure them, “I swore, remember?”

The kid stomped their foot once in… some kind of emphasis. “No hurt,” they started again with deliberate slowness, and then ended with the Humlilt whistle-greeting. Many of the Humlilts whistled back from where they were still observing the two of them. The small cavern echoed with the sound eerily.

“You don’t want me to hurt the Humlilts? The small creatures?” Roman asked, gesturing to the pile of fluff and hooves, and was rewarded with the kid seeming satisfied.

“Yes. Small good. Good good small. No hurt.”

Roman extended his hand palm up for another oath. “I vow not to harm your small good friends,” he intoned solemnly. The kid patted his hand twice, bobbing their own head in a curious motion. Roman could only imagine the sort of notes Logan would be taking.

Oh, right. He’d left the others in the bushes.

“I brought my friends, too,” he informed the kid, who blinked up at him. “Logan and Patton, remember them? Little critter?”

He said the last words in the chirps of the Ampen language, only a little strained by his accent, and the kid visibly brightened. “Little critter!”

“Wait right here, and I’ll get them,” Roman instructed, lowering a flat hand to convey wait. The kid probably didn’t really grasp it, but seemed content enough to stay put, shifting from one foot to the other.

It took no time at all to find Patton and Logan, who had progressively edged closer to the cliff face as he’d taken his sweet time in there.

“Okay, so,” he started, “I know where all the missing Humlilts went.”

---

Virgil shuffled his feet slightly, feeling the cool stone under his toes.

He should probably leave now, because even if the fluffy chirp alien really was there, they knew or at least suspected he was a human, and aliens hated humans. All of them, even the ones that looked soft like birds or cool like dinosaurs.

A soft, velvety nose poked up against his hand, and he squatted to gently pat the strange little singing puppy-antelope that had parted from the group to check on him. He couldn’t help but smile a little bit as it bumped its snout against his knee, sounding like a windchime.

Okay. Maybe not all aliens.

He looked up at the clitter-clatter of talons on rock, and then the fluffy chirping alien really did careen into view, feathers all puffed up like that very angry owl that had roosted outside his window for three whole hours one time. The other two bigger aliens came in only moments later.

Virgil couldn’t help but shrink back slightly from where he was still crouched, because aliens were weird and sometimes they did weird things that he didn’t really… get. Typically, this would be right before they started getting really mad or shaky, and screaming at him.

Before Fluff-Chirp could get any closer, though, the puppy-antelope had charged between them, planting its little legs and lowering its head so that the little horns were pointed out in warning. Virgil went still, eyes darting between Fluff-Chirp and the little creature, who he was pretty sure was the one with the white spot on its forehead, the one he’d named Susan after his nice neighbor.

The cool dinosaur alien had promised not to hurt them (he was pretty sure), but would it count if the puppy-antelopes attacked them first?

Fluff-Chirp stepped forward a little bit, and Susan let out a shrill cry like someone blowing really hard on a flute. Virgil clapped his hands over his ears as he attempted to whistle the calm-down sound, but Susan would not be budged, even as the other two aliens got all tense and twitchy.

In front of it, Fluff-Chirp stopped advancing, and instead plopped down on the ground with a soft thump. They ruffled in their bag, and Virgil was struck with the fear that they would pull out a space blaster gun to shoot Susan for trying to protect him. Hurriedly, he crawled forwards and threw his arms around the puppy-antelope (puppylope?) and hugged it close to shield it from any laser gun beams, his eyes squeezing shut.

There was a grunt-grumble from the cool dinosaur, and the click-click-click of the bunches of arms of the blue one moving around, but all he heard from Fluff-Chirp was shuffling, and then—

“Hello good morning,” the fluffy alien said. Or at least, that was what Virgil thought the birdsong-like words meant.

Fluff-Chirp always said it when waking up in their little camp, and Virgil had said it back, because that was just basic manners, especially when someone gives you stuff. Fluff-Chirp had given him a bunch of sweet sliced up fruit, kind of with the feeling of mangoes and the taste of strawberries. It had reminded him of home.

It… kind of smelled like Fluff-Chirp’s fruit now, actually.

—

Patton watched hopefully as the kid slowly opened one eye to peek over at them.

He hadn’t meant to scare the poor little guy by rushing in, he’d just been absolutely delighted to hear that not only would he get to see some Humlilts after all, but also that the kid seemed to have some company after all.

Some very loyal company, if the one threat-displaying at him was any indication. Patton was careful not to engage, particularly since further back in the cave, he could see a whole assembly of tiny, reflective eyes. Roman would probably just hold him up in the air if there was any real danger, but it was the principle of the matter. He didn’t want to upset the little guys!

Or the kid, who had finally spotted the dishes of fruit Patton had set out.

“You wanna come eat with me, little critter?” Patton offered, patting the ground near him.

“Little critter…,” the Human murmured. Their face was much more expressive now that it wasn’t mostly concealed by wood, and the kid looked painfully young. Probably no more than seven or eight sun cycles. Patton’s hearts twanged in sympathy.

Slowly, like they were waiting for the rug to be yanked out from under their feet, the kid scooted forward enough that they could grab a few pieces of the dana fruit, setting one down in front of the Humlilt to distract it. Patton eye-crinkled encouragingly, and took a piece of his own to nibble on.

“Do you remember me? I’m Patton. Patton,” he emphasized, ‘pat’-ing his own chest in example.

The kid paused mid-bite, and then swiped their wrist over their mouth before mumbling, “Patton,” back. Patton glowed with happiness.

“And that’s Logan,” he said, bolstered by one apparent success. Logan obligingly stepped forwards and gestured to himself.

“I am Logan,” he enunciated clearly.

The kid, who had stopped eating to focus wholeheartedly on this new task, scrunched his brow up. “I am Logan?”

“No, not quite,” Logan corrected gently. “Logan. I am Logan.” He cast a meaningful look to Patton.

“And I am Patton!” he added cheerfully, gesturing between the two of them. “Logan! Patton!”

“Logan,” the kid mimicked, looking at the Ulgorii and then the Ampen, “Patton.”

“You got it! Good job!” Patton noticed that the kid was very careful to keep their hands in their lap, and wondered if Humans were normally this withdrawn, or if exposure to other aliens had caused this reticence.

“Good job?” the kid echoed, wide eyed. They looked to Roman curiously, though only for a moment before dropping their gaze.

“I am Roman,” Roman surprised them both by beating them to the introductory punch.

“... Roman?” the kid offered, and got a chorus of nonsense praise for their effort. They bared their little teeth and clapped their hands together, and it took the three of them an alarmed pause and exchange of glances to realize that they weren’t, in fact, being threatened by a youngling.

“Joy? Or perhaps, contentment?” Logan was mumbling to himself. “The skin around the child’s eyes folds much like an Ampen expression of happiness, so…”

“It would make more sense to be happy after receiving praise, right?” replied Roman, who had gotten a bit bristly from nerves for a moment. Patton resisted the urge to elbow the both of them into not saying long, confusing sentences. Luckily, the kid seemed too occupied with their own thoughts to notice.

“Patton, Logan, Roman,” they recited, looking at each of them in turn. Then, very carefully, they reached up and patted their own chest. “Virgil. I am Virgil?”

There was a brief moment of stunned silence, and then Patton trilled in delight, clapping his hands in an echo of the Human’s gesture, in hopes that it would convey his own happiness and pride in the kid’s quick learning. The kid jumped, but then did that teeth-bearing smile again.

“Virgil!” he tested out, not quite getting the Human tones right, but that was okay because he could practice! “Virgil Virgil Virgil! Yes! That’s you!”

“I am Virgil!” the Human was practically bouncing in place as they matched Patton’s energy, and Patton couldn’t help but dart forward and try to bump his head to the Human’s affectionately.

Roman hissed something exceedingly panicked, but Patton was already using one of the Human’s bent legs to reach, and then he was brushing his antenna to the kid-- to Virgil’s forehead, and then the Human was lifting their arms slowly and curling them around him, and okay now Patton was a little bit concerned, but.

But, all Virgil did was lean into him slightly, arms bracing but not suffocating, and sniffle once, like they were holding back tears. Any resolve Patton had to not give his teammates stress ulcers faded away like dust in the wind, and he leaned in carefully and wrapped his arms around as much as he could reach of the kid’s shoulders and neck, which Roman would tell him was stupid dangerous because necks were weak points on Humans and they would absolutely react defensively--

Virgil promptly burst into tears, their chin coming to hook over Patton’s shoulder as a stuttering little wail worked its way out of their system. Patton made soothing nonsense croons and sung Ampen lullabies as the kid shuddered their way through a good cry, and tried not to feel too alarmed that unlike Ampens, Humans apparently leaked emotions while they cried.

Once Virgil had more or less settled down, they seemed completely wiped from the outpour of emotion, eyes drooping, body tilting to one side. For the first time since they’d arrived, the kid looked too wiped out to be nervous. Sure enough, only a few moments later, they shifted to curl up on their side, falling asleep on the cold stone easily.

Patton looked up at his teammates from where he was sitting in the center of the curled c-shape of the kid’s body, and offered them a sheepish shrug. “Well. Now we know that Humans can experience touch hunger?”

#sanders sides #ts patton #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #the end of being alone #teoba #donation drive #commissioned works #wibar #wibar au kid virgil #bumblebeekitten #space au #writing #my writing #i genuinely feel so soft writing this au #let virgil have hugs 2020

610 notes · View notes

prismadog · 3 years ago

Text

I've been doing a lot of thinking about to Love my Enemy, specifically the next chapter. I've been sick - nasty cold I caught at the end of November - so I haven't been able to write anything for to Love my Enemy [jimnoth au] nor for the Creed of Gods and Men [Found Family au].

BUT! I'm finally starting to feel better so I'm gonna try to work on the next chapters for those, though, it might be a few more days or so yet.

BTW, this is a headcanon/au canon post for resident wizard, Gem.

anyway, so I've been thinking about the next chapter, right, and in either the next chapter or soon after, Jimmy is going to receive a messenger "bird" from Gem about the location of his codhead.

I say "bird" in quotes because after some thinking, I don't think she's going to have a "bird" at all that delivers messages. Originally, I was thinking any letters or messages that needed to be sent would be via magic, and that could still be the case, but I like the idea that she uses birds as well because honestly, using magic all the time has got to be tiring.

so next thought was that she uses ravens like the other members of the Wither Rose Alliance/brothers, Fwhip and Sausage. This could still be true too. Like, maybe, the Crystal Cliff's messenger birds were ravens but then after Gem became the High Wizard, she decided to change things up and train different..."birds".

here's the idea.

phantoms

the Crystal Cliff's messenger birds are phantoms.

and here's why I'm making this an au fact.

Originally, like I said, ravens because the three kingdoms are pretty much related to each other and there's quite a few things they share - magic, ravens, some traditions and general aspects, etc.

but then Gem became the High Wizard, the ruler of the Crystal Cliffs, and well, she wants to spread the knowledge and beauty of magic. but she's also a little chaotic, like her brothers, so what better people to teach than the outcasts of society, those that are shunned and turned away from - ie, pillagers?

but what if it's not just pillagers, what if she accepts all outcasts and unlikables? - such as, other hostile mobs and people who can't find a home anywhere else. and what if she not only gives them a home and teaches them magic, but she takes it one step further and invites their culture/aspects into her's?

maybe there's a huge open field for the ravagers. maybe there's cozy damp mossy caverns for creepers. maybe there's other caverns full of food and alcoves for the spiders. and the undead? how about homes for them too, and protection spells that keep them from burning in the sun?

and here's the part I've been thinking most about - phantoms as messenger birds.

maybe she befriends a few, takes them in and gives them a nice SPACIOUS tower of their own for them to rest and roost, gives them all the food they can eat and places protection spells on them too so they also don't burn in the sun? and what if, because she's been so nice and loving towards them, that these few decide to bring other phantoms to this wonderful place? so they do, the few phantoms she's befriended bring more home, and she befriends those too.

phantoms are intelligent creatures so what if they want to repay her for her kindness? so, they decide to replace the ravens. it's not intentional, they only want to help out, and using magic to send messages can get tiring, so, they start sending messages for her.

and because of that, phantoms eventually replace the ravens as the Official Messenger Bird of the Crystal Cliffs.

- at least, for Wizard Gem that is. it takes a long time before the phantoms will send anything for the regular people, they're weird like that and insanely loyal. they're also protective of what's theirs so if anyone were to attack Gem, they would swarm on the attacker and take them out without her having to lift a finger.

of course, other rulers and people are bound to freak out so Gem has some damage control to maintain, but once things are squared away and the dust is settled, the phantoms are, reluctantly, accepted.

idk, just a little thought I had. and of course, the other hostile mobs that call the Crystal Cliffs home love Gem too because she takes good care of them.

#empires smp #empiresblr #headcanon #to love my enemy au #geminitay #phantoms

14 notes · View notes

wetravopedia-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Two Best Hotels in Altamonte Springs Orlando

Altamonte Springs is a beautiful place, immensely known for its commercialized stretch of SR436 that runs through it like a great river of multi-generational strip malls. This place is also known for having one of Orlando's most popular shopping centers, a beautiful lake-set park and something of a "Where's Waldo?" of hidden dining gems. It is an ideal example of the rich array of nature reserve parks and lovely recreational areas, where tourists can find the needed source of inspiration and meditation at the end of a thrilling day. When it comes to food, it is not implausible to estimate that it would take someone years of eating out three times a day to hit up every restaurant in Altamonte Springs. Another pretty amazing significant-stop within the limits of Altamonte Springs is the exceptional Cranes Roost Park, which to all intents and purposes serves as the cultural point of this cozy place. While planning your trip we’ll suggest you do a little bit of research for Hotels in Altamonte Springs to avoid any kind of hassle during your vacation.

If you are wondering about good budget-friendly accommodation? We have got you sorted to Best Hotels in Orlando for your comfortable stay below!

Hilton Orlando/Altamonte Springs

Located at 350 North Lake Boulevard, Hilton Orlando/Altamonte Springs is a three-and-a-half-star accommodation offering free Wi-Fi, recent renovations, and super-cozy beds. The Hilton Orlando has recently completed a top-to-bottom renovation housing 311 guest rooms fully equipped with premium mattresses with down comforters and delish deluxe bedding, HDTV with premium cable connection, coffeemakers, and free wifi. Work out on your fitness regime in the brand-new fitness center, then make a splash in the heated outdoor pool. Guests can relax and unwind in the sauna, and to really take relaxation to another level, book a treatment in the hotel's on-site spa. The property also houses a restaurant and lounge on-site as well as a café for a casual meal and a chat over coffee. Keep up with the office work at the business center. Free shuttle service and parking are available as well. Business guests find the property’s location very convenient to North Orlando, Maitland, Apopka, and Heathrow business districts, yet SeaWorld and Disney are only about 40 minutes away. The property has easy access to all the major highways. Orlando International Airport is 18 miles away, and Sanford International Airport just 15 miles away from Hilton Orlando/Altamonte Spring.

Hawthorn Suites by Wyndham

Located at 644 Raymond Avenue, Hawthorn Suites by Wyndham, a three-star property with spacious kitchen suites, the pool, and free parking. The three-story building houses 120 non-smoking studio and one-bedroom suites, each featuring a work area with a desk, a queen bed, free Wi-Fi, full kitchen that includes a full-size refrigerator, a stovetop, a microwave, and a dishwasher and flat-panel TVs with movie channels in the living area. Guests can kick off their day with the breakfast buffet, and stop by the manager's receptions, held three evenings a week, for food, soda, beer, and wine. The amenities also include a fitness room, a business center, and an outdoor pool. Parking is available for free. The property is less than one mile from Altamonte Mall. It’s 10 minutes drive to reach downtown Orlando, where you can visit the Orlando Museum of Art and Orlando Science Center. The Hawthorn Suites is 25 minutes north of Universal, 30 minutes north of SeaWorld, and the Magic Kingdom is 40 minutes southwest. Orlando International Airport is 36 minutes from the property.

So, these were the two finest Orlando Hotels and will make your visit even more memorable.

Where to get the best deals and how to book hotels online? Explore TravOpedia where you can compare rates and amenities for different properties. You can read the reviews of the guest who stayed there in the past or look into the images of the properties or research over the location of the property on maps or even videos that will help you to judge your stay.

If you are also looking for Cheap Flights to Orlando explore TravOpedia to get online promotional codes by exploring the web & that will help you save large.

#Best Hotels in Orlando #orlando hotels #hotels in orlando #flights to orlando #cheap flights to orlando

1 note · View note

frickengreenfrickyeah · 5 years ago

Text

Untitled Goose Story (Part 3)

Summary: Remus overhears an interesting conversation.

Warnings: Sympathetic Remus, mention of sickness, threat of hanging, implied warfare, goose shenanigans (tell me if I missed anything)

A/N: Longest one yet!

Word Count: 1710

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

---

Part 3

Remus tugged at the tapestry with all their might, determined to tear it down before the servant returned to show her supervisor. But alas, fortune was not in a humble goose’s favor today, and the tapestry stayed firmly attached to the wall. Remus honked indignantly and waddled away to find something more cooperative to steal.

Tapestry was a new word for Remus. They were learning a lot of new words the longer they stayed in the human’s stone burrow, or castle as they had learned. They’d learned words like ‘the soldiers coming back from the front bear dour news’ and ‘that goose is getting away with the Prince’s supper’ as well as ‘the enemies are figuratively at our gates’ and ‘how did a goose get into the armory?’

Speaking of new words, Remus heard a few as they walked past another tapestry.

“Honk?” They honked under their breath and swerved over to investigate.

Human voices, shouting, drifted out from the dusty tapestry at the end of the hall, muffled by stone and cloth. Remus gently slid their head behind the tapestry. A few inches past the cover of the cloth, a Remus-sized opening was cut into the stone. Slatted beams of light shone from the other side. Remus honked, pleased to have discovered a possible new roost for their nest. The library nook was getting boring. The librarian never noticed when they stole books, which was just no fun.

Remus stopped in the hollow in the wall. Cozy. Plenty of space. Hidden from evil groundskeepers. They could make a home here for sure.

The voices flared again, overlapping. Remus cocked their head and tried to peer into the room on the other side of the window. They were partially blinded by the light shining out from between wooden planks, but that faded.

Fifteen feet below, a dozen humans were gathered around a long table in the center of a torch-lit hall. The humans were not sitting at the table, contrary to their usual custom. Instead, the majority of them stood, flapping their arms. Their shouts swelled louder and louder, mostly directed at two people at one end of the table. And those two people were glaring at each other.

One was wrinkled, lines stretched deeper with silent fury. Remus was well acquainted with glares that would pluck and boil them alive if given the power, usually from the groundskeeper. The old man’s glare simmered with that same hatred.

The other person was young, easily the youngest human in the room, yet he was sitting in the biggest chair and dressed the most lavishly. Stripes of red, white, and gold wrapped his body. His entire being glittered. Remus stared, enraptured by the glint of gold glinting on the human’s head. They needed that gold.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A new human, this one with shadowed eyes, banged a staff on the table with a flash of bright light. The shouts died instantly.

“You utter morons!” He boomed, voice magnified strangely, like he was shouting into a bell. With mild surprise, Remus recognized Virgil, the groundskeeper’s husband. “We didn’t gather here to argue. We are here to make decisions. The next person to raise their voice or talk out of turn will find themselves wrapped in vines and fed to my carnivorous coneflowers faster than you can say, ‘The fate of the entire goddamn kingdom rests on this goddamn meeting.’ If you want to speak, raise your hand. Prince Roman or I will call on you.” Virgil ripped his staff off the table with a spout of sparks. He glared down the crowd. “If one of you morons have a problem with this, I goddamn dare you: Object.”

No one objected. Slowly, one by one, they sat down. The only sound in the cavernous hall was of chairs squawking awkwardly against the stone floor as people took their places. The furious old man with the death glare was the last to sit, never breaking eye contact with the golden man. The golden man stayed standing. He gulped as he surveyed the table.

“Right- uh, thank you Magician Ambassador Virgil. Yes, back to what we were talking about before we got… angrily sidetracked. Uh, let’s review the important business. My mother’s health continues to decline, uh…” he trailed off, voice pinched, “but my brother, um, Prince Reginald is doing… fine… on the front. Alive, at least with the army-”

“Prince Roman-” a lady in green started. Virgil’s staff exploded in warning sparks. She gulped and thrust her hand into the air.

“I’ll get to you in a minute, Lady Tiffany. I want to get through this list, uh, first, before we discuss anything else. To make sure we don’t miss anything,” Prince Roman, the golden man, said with a forced smile. His hand shook slightly as indicated the paper he was reading from. “Um…” he found his place, “The army is running low on food, supplies, and medicine. The magical plague has weakened, if not incapacitated, nearly all our spellcasters. The drought continues, so the fall harvest will likely be insufficient to get the kingdom through the winter… And our enemies grow stronger by the day.” He cleared his throat as he reached the end of the list. Immediately, a dozen humans shot their hands into the air.

The human discussed their boring matters in loud voices for hours longer. Remus took the opportunity to examine the hidey-hole they’d found. Once their eyes had fully adjusted to the torchlight, they were able to see that it was a disused fireplace, boarded over and forgotten. They tested the boards when the humans got loud again and discovered that the wood would jiggle loose if given time.

“But Prince Roman, banning the trade of magical items will cripple our economy even more than it already is!”

The angry old man was shouting again. Remus peeked back into the room, wondering how much longer the humans would argue with each other. Surely they needed to get up and stretch their wings at some point.

“Lord Briar,” Prince Roman responded in a clipped tone, “we don’t know how the magical plague is spreading. Until we do, I have to insist that we take all necessary precautions to protect our remaining spellcasters, because, currently, their dedication to preserving our grain stores is the only thing that will hold us through the winter-”

“If we don’t have money, we can’t pay our soldiers-”

“If we don’t have food, we won’t have soldiers, Lord Briar, let alone ordinary people to purchase your magical merchandise.”

“With all due respect my prince,” Lord Briar said scathingly, “I can’t trust your judgment in matters relating to the economy of this kingdom. You’re too young and inexperienced to be making these important decisions.”

“With all due respect, Lord Briar,” Prince Roman shot back, seething, “It is my duty to hold this kingdom together through times of crisis. So it is my duty to expunge any hint of mutiny. I welcome your counsel in areas relating to economic issues because you have proven yourself capable in them. But I am your sovereign leader and highest authority until such a time as my mother recovers her health or my brother returns from the front. Do not mistake your deep pockets for true power in my court. If you continue to undermine my authority, I will have you hanged. Do I make myself clear?”

The entire room held its breath. Lord Briar glared so intensely at Prince Roman the feather’s on the back of Remus’ neck bristled. Roman waited patiently for Briar’s reply with cold indifference cocking his head.

At last, Briar nodded.

“Yes, my prince.” His hands curled into fists. Roman nodded, content.

“Right, now that all that drivel is out of the way, let’s discuss the true threat to this kingdom.” All heads snapped to the voice at the opposite end of the table, a familiar man in dark blue robes. Remus’ eyes widened as they recognized their nemesis, the groundskeeper.

A smile flickered in the corner of Roman’s mouth.

“And what might that be, Sir Logan?”

Logan leaned back in his chair.

“The tyrant at our gates. The beast who threatens our very way of life. The bane of this land and all who dwell within.” He dropped forward, the legs of his chair smacking against the stone floor with a crack, “If left unchecked, our imminent doom is assured to come swiftly under an empty, pitiless gaze. Every accomplishment will be reduced to ash, which that monster will scatter with a flap of their terrible wings. I speak, of course, of that blasted goose.”

The tension in the room broke as all the humans burst into laughter. Remus froze in their nook, a splash of emotions running through their head. After a moment, they decided they were flattered.

Roman gave Logan a begrudging smile.

“I’ll assign two of my personal guards to track down the goose. How does that sound?”

“You underestimate the bastardity of this goose if you think two guards will be enough,” Logan pressed.

“Two guards, Sir Logan. And they can’t put off their normal duties for this.”

Logan crossed his arms and said in a very petulant mutter that carried through the hall:

“On your own head be it.”

Roman inhaled sharply, looking very much like he wanted to be mad, but couldn’t. The rest of the humans were covering their mouths to muffle their laughter (with the exception of Lord Briar and a few others). Evidently, Logan brought up in issue of Remus often enough for the entire court to be familiar with their rivalry. Remus was definitely pleased with this turn of events. They were a celebrity!

“Two guards, Logan.”

“Thank you, my gracious prince.”

“If that’s it, then I call this meeting to a close. Any questions can be directed to Sir Patton, our dedicated scribe. Thank you for your time. I hope to see you all at tonight’s feast.”

The humans got up and left in groups of two or three, talking amongst themselves. Remus watched them with mild interest before shrugging and turning to exit their cubby. If two guards were coming to catch them, they wanted to prepare a warm welcome for them.

---

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

#thomas sanders #ts sides #untitled goose story #untitled goose game #ts sides fic #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remus the goose is my spirit animal #ts sides au

15 notes · View notes

cloudbattrolls · 5 years ago

Text

The Mirror Looks Back

Chimer Latrai | Civitrecce | Several Nights Prior

You hesitate before you knock on her door.

The building you’re standing in one of the many identical hallways of is very uniform for Civitrecce. Ask any troll to think of the tech city, and they’d probably imagine a tall gray hivestem just like this one, fifty floors tall with struts on the outside to balance it in the winds and roosts for flying lusii to roost on.

There are gardens around its outside balconies too, strung with netting to keep out the aforementioned flying lusii. Each lowblood is allowed to grow a certain amount of their own food. A lot of places don’t even permit such things (god forbid lowbloods be too self-sufficient) but given Civitrecce’s population and the financial strain of imports from the surrounding valleys, it was finally allowed about seventy sweeps ago.

Still, you saw what must’ve been a highblood’s raptor lusus swoop down on one, tear through its netting with what looked like metal-covered talons and wreck it, not even eating anything it destroyed. You wish you’d been in range to throw your trident, but it was at least ten floors up. Plus an incident is the last thing you need right now, though you grit your fangs at your own helplessness and the far worse loss to whatever poor troll is the victim. Probably just one of way too many this has happened to.

The troll you’re about to visit is a victim in her way, but like no other.

You’ve searched for any mention of someone else hatched like her in your many sweeps - any whisper that she wasn’t an anomaly - but you’ve never found anything definitive.

The door opens before you can knock on it.

Tabula Raisaa is a slight maroon, a foot shorter than you and a bit thinner. Her hair only comes to an inch or so past her ears, and her eyes are psiionic white, but were it not for the luminous glow, one would almost think they belonged to a ghost.

Her face is a copy of yours.

Or really, yours is a copy of hers.

“Heeeeeey...” You say, all your planned starts to the conversation going up in a cloud of smoke.

She raises a finger in a “wait” gesture and walks back inside.

You peer in after her, eyes wide with curiosity.

Her hiveblock is small, but...cozy, you suppose. There are notebooks everywhere, open and closed, old and new. A battered laptop is open on a table with a strong-smelling cup of coffee beside it, steaming gently. Strings of lights are strewn across the ceiling and walls. A white meowbeast - not a lusus, you think - dozes curled up on an old maroon couch with threadbare patches.

“Nice setup you got here. Didn’t know you were one for pets.”

A black dog with orange eyes snapping and snarling, trying to take your place.

You wince at the memory. One upside of dealing with Tabula: at least she has no recall feature.

Though...she seems to recognize you. How is that possible? You were ready to explain everything, now that she doesn’t have Cherie’s power sustaining her memory.

“I could be culled for not having a lusus.” she replies from a room you can’t see, tone sharp.

Sharp? Tabula’s always dull, emotionless...

The girl who walks back in is anything but, arms crossed as she looks at you with distaste.

“I felt disdain was appropriate for you, so I drank some.” She says, chin up.

Your fins ripple up and down in confusion.

“You can store emotions now? Also, what’d I do.”

Tactfully you don’t remind her that she once tried to kill you, and also she was on Cherie’s side last time.

At least they don’t seem to have done anything to her.

She laughs, an eerie enough sound that your skin prickles a little. It’s like she learned how from recordings which...is about right.

“Can I sit down at least?”

“Why not?” She says, shrugging. “You’ve imposed yourself on me in every other way.”

Rolling your eyes, you plunk down near the meowbeast, which opens a sleepy yellow eye at you and then ignores you entirely.

“Look, I’m not expecting you to be jazzed about me, but I came here to make sure you were safe, okay? Cherie has popped up again and they talked about you in their usual creepy way, so I’m trying to be responsible toward you for once. Be a pal and don’t give me shit.”

“You’ve seen me, I’m safe. Since you’re still here, you want something from me, as if you haven’t taken everything I was entitled to already.”

She’s not being fair.

That’s your first thought, yet she’s not wrong. Chimera’s selfishness created you, not that you asked for that. Cherie claims Tabula is hollow, incapable of individuality, but just because she’s different doesn’t mean she’s not a person.

For over four hundred sweeps she was a voice in your head, watching you live the life she should’ve had.

You exhale deeply. Just because you didn’t mean for her to suffer doesn’t mean you’re not the reason why.

Plus, though it stings, she’s not entirely wrong.

“Yes.” You admit. “But that was a recent thing, like, an hour ago. I originally came here to see if you were safe and ask you some questions. And if you don’t want me to, I won’t bring it up. Plus, it’s for a friend, not me.”

She takes out a vial from her sylladex - you see it flash golden - and drinks it down.

“For a friend! That makes it better, doesn’t it? How you assume I’d help you. What do I get in return?”

Amusement enters her tone, the hard edge of disdain still pointed beneath it.

“I can pay you, or give you a favor. Also, how are you storing those? How do you even remember me?”

“Magic, Chimer!” She sings, entirely amused now as she twirls in place, her gray skirt swirling. “Magic, psi, and technology combined. Did you think you were the only one with all the tricks? Oh - but you gave it up. Silly girl!”

Disdainful Tabula suddenly seems a lot more appealing.

“Coooool. Okay, so, what do you remember about Cherie’s goals, if anything? Did they ever talk about their past, or how they felt about the spectrum?”

“Why should I care? They weren’t very funny.” she says, yawning, but then a watch on her wrist beeps and she downs another vial, this one gray. She calms, and sits on the floor, cross-legged.

“You haven’t asked me about myself in the whole time you’ve been here. I’m nothing but information to you.”

Her voice is even, non-judgmental.

Perhaps that’s why your fists clench as you inhale deeply, fins pressed down.

“What should I ask you, Tabula? What could I ask you? I barely understand you, and god, I should, but I don’t. I owe you everything, and you don’t owe me shit. There’s no way I can ever pay you back, and I hate it. I hate that you tried to fucking kill me and I can’t say that makes us square, because I know what you went through. I hate that you stood with the person who imprisoned me and I can’t say that makes us square either, because you literally had no choice, and none of it would’ve happened if you’d gotten my life.”

It’s hard to glean an expression from those white eyes, but she drinks another vial.

It’s fuchsia.

“Accepting you don’t understand me is something.” She says. “Cherie pretended to. I can’t remember everything, especially after I took the implants they gave me out, but I remember that much.”

You blink.

“Why’d you take them out? Didn’t they...I mean, didn’t you have to find a new way to hold onto stuff? Judging from obvious context clues here, you still can’t sustain an emotional state, no offense.”

“I don’t feel like taking offense.” She says, still calm. “I can’t take amusement again or I’ll get distracted, even though I just made a funny joke. The feelings consume me.”

What do you even say to that? To the girl forced to depend on others to react to the world around her? To know if she’d had your life, she wouldn’t be this way?

“That’s rough, buddy.”

Nailed it.

She gets up and flips through notebooks, doing this for a few minutes until she gets the one she wants and reads aloud.

“The storage and stabilization implants have control units in them. Must take them out so Cherie can’t get to me. Coloth tech, I think.”

Your lip curls in disgust.

“They walked up to me acting like they were all invested in lowblood rights, knowing damn well I was there when they tried their little timeline BS. Now this too?”

An idea hits and you sit up straight.

“Tabula, if I recorded your testimony, I could use it to - ”

“No.”

“Uh?”

“I don’t care about taking down Cherie.”

“Whhhhyyyyy?”

“They’re not my problem.”

“They’re gonna be all of Civitrecce’s problem if they get enough power. Whatever they want, it’s obviously not lowblood rights, and I doubt it’s an ice cream party.”

She looks at you with a gaze you feel scopes all your thoughts out, every plan and idea you’ve ever had.

“I can only hold so much at once, but I know what a maroon’s word is worth against a cobalt. No matter what Cherie does, things are already bad here for lowbloods. I’ve seen suffering tonight. I’m sure I see it every night.”

A sigh, long and drawn out, flows from you as your shoulders slump. She’s right, and it reminds you how removed you are and will always be from the problem.

No matter how what you change, highbloods can do whatever they want. They won’t respect lowbloods unless it costs them to not. They’ll shove them in helms, tear up their food with lusii, use them for their plans.

Meanwhile you remain as untouchable as when you slammed Cherie into that floor.

Tabula would die for so much as slapping a blueblood. If she was lucky.

With a brush of your hand you slide your hair out of the way as you lean back on the couch that really isn’t big enough to fit you, your legs sprawled out on her floor.

“Yeah. Thanks for being straight with me, though.”

Her white eyes blink, and her ears flick.

“I don’t care enough to lie to you.”

“Still.”

In a world of endless politics and the pain in the ass that’s Cherie, it’s nice to have someone be blunt, no matter how frustrating it is at times.

She downs another vial as her watch beeps again, this one more a bluish gray.

“If you want my help, my price is your happiness. A whole night’s worth of happiness, of everything you have and love. I think it would be especially strong coming from you.”

She walks over and you double take in shock as she sits in your lap.

A slender, warm hand lightly runs a thumb across your right fin, and you shudder slightly.

“Don’t forget; you came from me. You owe me.”

Do you have any right to find her creepy?

You do anyway, but still, you nod.

As both of you know so well, a deal’s a deal.

#cloud writes #chimer latrai #tabula raisaa #tabula is a creepy mfer but in her defense she can't really help it #well she sort of can but she's also not /wrong/#which is chimer's problem

2 notes · View notes

gaydreamkin · 5 years ago

Note

yooooooo laughing gills are the best friends!! and your Ehn aesthetics make my heart go !! (and ;_; i miss it, hehe)... if you don’t mind, what are your favorite memories from seagull and ehn?

!!!!!!!!! I’m so glad to hear that other people love laughing gulls! I think we’re so pretty and our calls are beautiful (but a lot of people hate seagulls so sometimes people are mean)

I think some of my favorite seagull memories are roosting with my colony on the tops of roofed piers!

Like this (couldn’t find a good pic of the cozy roosting but on a roof???):

It’s a good vantage point! You can see the ocean and any food that you may be able to get from there plus it’s pretty easy to spot humans that might have some tasty treats you can steal too. It’s also generally pretty safe, you’ve got FRIENDS!!!!! and it’s a nice place to take off from cause you’ve got the good winds up there :)

Now it’s time for me to be a huge bummer!

Unfortunately most of my memories from when I was Ehn are REALLY sad. I did not have a great life when I was Ehn :( I spent most of my time being scared and lonely. I do miss the ocean, the deep sea, the feeling of being surrounded by water. The pressure. But I don’t miss being miserable.

But I also have memories of before I was "Ehn" when I was a god of the primordial reef (Ehn is also a shortened version of my original name but I don’t remember my original name. I’m pretty sure it’s just full on unpronounceable by human standards). I really loved spending time with my sea creatures that I made. (Look up ancient sea creatures to see some of my beautiful friends (Precambiran is full of some things I’m sure proud of. but Devonian is good too! they all are! But yeah those are my suggestions on where to start)).

This is one of my favorite artist interpretations of a Devonian reef:

LOOK AT ALL THOSE GOOD FRIENDS I MADE!!!

I also loved my mate. Oh fuck did I adore him!!!! My giant behemoth of the deep. Vast. Terrifying. Beautiful. Perfect.And then...I got uhhh...murdered and cursed for being in love with him. So...yeah. That’s when I got reborn as Ehn and didn’t remember who I was for a very long time and pretty much everything sucked.

(my mate and I did re-find each other but I don’t remember as much from after that, it gets kinda weird and hard to explain in human words)

#sorry for not getting to this last night!!#I came home and just immediately curled up in bed oops?#Ehn #eatin' trash #I'm so sorry that Ehn is such a downer I wish I had happier memories hhhhhh #cetaceanxneeded

2 notes · View notes

rockindragonz · 6 years ago

Text

Home Is Where the Taaco’s Are

Angus McDonald would never allow himself to be a burden on anyone, so he tries to make it on his own following the Day of Story and Song. He ends up in an orphanage with too many kids, too few caretakers, and too little money. When Taako and Kravitz find out, they will not let that stand any longer.

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 4333

Chapters: 1/1

Read on Ao3

No one really talks about what they saw, or rather didn’t see, that day. It's never mentioned when the Day of Story and Song comes around. For many, it is a day of celebration, but, for many more, it is a day of mourning and loss. So many died to the monsters before anyone could see them. So many husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, children and grandparents. Everyone knew someone who had died without being able to see their attacker, all they felt was blood spilling from them by the gallon. What they do talk about is the story of the seven birds and how courageous and wonderful these people were. They talk of the Bureau of Balance and some speak of Carey, Killian, and Angus who had the privilege of fighting beside the old adventurers.

Its weird for a while for Angus. Going to school and trying to have a normal life all while being so related to the seven people who saved countless realities. When he’s first recognized on the street as Angus McDonald, member of the Bureau of Balance, he is in shock. People crowd him and ask him so many of questions about the IPRE crew that he loses track of them.

For the crew, the year immediately following the Day of Story and Song was the hardest. Taako and Kravitz had rushed headfirst into their relationship and had spent as much time together as possible. Magnus began to rebuild Raven’s Roost after the destruction it had faced. Lup and Barry joined up with the Raven Queen, so they weren’t around much. Lucretia spent all of her time trying to fix all the mistakes she had made and created the Bureau of Benevolence to aid in repairation efforts. Merle moved to the beach and became the leader of a city he now ran. And Davenport all but disappeared off the map.

As for Angus, he no longer had a home. He was alone once again, without a mother or father to speak of, and his grandfather’s grave had been destroyed in the attacks. He applied to Lucas’s school and got in with no problems. But now he was living in an orphanage where there were too many kids, not enough caretakers, and not nearly enough money. Many children had been orphaned on that fateful day. Despite everything, Angus found himself happier than he had ever been. He was learning new and challenging things and he was visiting constantly with Taako and Kravitz who lived so close to his school. He was finally living the life a child deserves to live. No one knew where Angus was calling home, no one even really knew that Angus had no family in Faerun that he could have lived with. Whenever the subject was brought up, he changed it quickly with a dismissive answer and tried to focus on something not related to his living conditions at all.

That’s how it went for the first year. Everything was calm and quiet and everyone had a new appreciation for life and love.

It's been almost three years since the day or Story and Song now and Angus is still in the orphanage. Prospective parents have been few and far between for the orphanage this year and donations haven’t been large enough to support the displaced children so there wasn’t enough food to go around. Besides that, Angus had some massive finals coming up that kept him locked in his shared room most days. Those two things combined over the course of a month meant that Angus was starting to show some bone in his ribcage. He was constantly hungry now, but he ignored it and continued working towards his goal of becoming as good of a wizard as Taako was.

His final for the year was held on the day before the Day of Story and Song, so the day after was when he finally found himself with enough time to once again visit Taako and Kravitz. Normally the gang would gather in one house to celebrate and relate stories, but the party had been put off for a day or so because Davenport had gotten stranded briefly in some remote part of the world and refused out of dignity to let Kravitz help him. Before knocking on the familiar wooden door, Angus hesitated. He knew Taako was more on this day and he really didn’t want to bother him, but his decision was made for him when a surprisingly casually dressed reaper opened the door.

Kravitz blinked down at Angus twice before grinning ear to ear. “Angus! I was just about to head to the store to get some stuff for dinner, will you be joining us?”

“Oh, no sir, I wouldn’t want to bother you two, I know you’re both very-” he was cut off by a loud growl from his stomach that caught him totally off guard. The growling had stopped weeks ago but apparently the mention of Taako’s delicious food reactivated it.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Go ahead and go inside, Taako is just in the kitchen getting some things prepared.” Kravitz clapped him on the shoulder and stepped away from the wooden door and past Angus. Hesitantly, Angus stepped into the warm home.

“Sir? Mr. Kravitz let me in,” Angus said, calling towards where he knew the kitchen was.

“Angus, I’m in the kitchen, do me a favor and come give cha’boy a hand,” Taako responded. Angus nodded to himself and dropped his book bag on the cozy couch that stood facing a lit fire. He stared for a moment at the flames that licked up and around the logs burning, and he thought of Lup immediately as he stared. Honestly, Angus was surprised she and Barry weren’t here; the twins were usually inseparable today. Shaking his head, Angus walked to the kitchen to lend Taako the hand he had asked for.

“How can I help sir?”

“Just hand me stuff and put things I give you in the sink or something, I don’t really care as long as they get the fuck out of my way,” Taako said, passing him a dirty dish. Angus nodded and dutifully placed it in the sink and ran the water to clean the bowl out a bit. “Ango, gimme the salt.” And so Angus did. Things continued like this for a while, both of them existing in comfortable silence, despite the teasing that usually occurred at Angus’ expense. Taako said nothing besides a few short words to indicate what he needed next for the recipe. At one point, Angus got the feeling that Taako didn’t really need his help, he could tell in the way Taako would go to reach for something and then hesitate and ask Angus to grab it for him. Honestly, Angus had no idea why the usually flippant man would allow him to help out, but he wasn’t complaining, anything was better than being stuck at that orphanage ny longer than he had to be.

“That’ll do boyo, we can chillax now and watch Fantasy Queer Eye if you want, though Krav might kill me if we watch a new ep without him.” Taako spoke loudly, almost as if he were trying to get someone else in the house to hear him, as he dried his hands off on a dish towel.

“Whatever sounds great to me sir!” Angus said with a smile he hoped was convincing. The food he could smell that was now baking kept causing his stomach to growl loudly, but if Taako had noticed, he hadn’t said anything about it. Taako plopped down on the couch in what Angus knew to be his usual place and waved his hand at the small TV above the fireplace. A rerun episode of Fantasy Queer Eye came on, one where they were trying to help a gay man get a sense of style that he obviously didn’t have. Occasionally, Taako would scoff at the clothing choices one of them would make for the client and he would mutter things like “Oh so you think you know everything about clothing, don’t you Tan?” In these instances, Angus would only smile to himself in a fond way one would if one’s father was acting silly.

“So...how’re...things?” Taako said. He had obviously grown bored with the rerun and was now trying to rope Angus into a long conversation about his life.

“Things are good, I am doing very well in school!”

“Yeah, no surprise there, boy wonder,” Taako said with a snort, “what are they feeding you over there anyways? You look like skin and bone my dude. I’m gonna have to take that up with Lucas and make sure that shithead is feeding you guys right.”

“There’s no need for that sir, I’m just...sick is all.”

“No, no, no, I know sick and this is not that,” he said with a scowl, “have you eaten a proper meal in the last few weeks? I’m talking something other than a shitty ass school sandwich and a granola bar.”

“Oh sir, the shows back on! I love this part of the episode, it’s so funny.” Angus turned his face to watch the TV and rested his head in his hands, hoping to mask the bit of bone that had begun to show around his jaw area. With no warning, the TV was shut off. Angus turned to look at Taako only to be faced with a serious look that he had rarely, if ever, seen on Taako’s face.

“Angus, what is really going on? I’m not a moron you know, I know malnutrition when I see it, and boy, am I seein it right now.” Angus sighed and let his hands fall into his lap. He was torn between telling Taako the whole truth and lying about his whereabouts and his food intake. Lying seemed to be the better and less inconvenient option. “Don’t bullshit me or I will get Merle to pop over here and cast Zone of Truth.” Again, Angus sighed a deep sigh. Taako wasn’t going to give up until he was satisfied with the answer, was he?

“Okay, well, I’m living in a home where they don’t have a ton of money right now and we haven’t been able to get much food together. Most people have spent their money on the rebuilding efforts so donations are low.”

“Wait a second there boyo,” Taako said, his eyebrows raising rapidly, “donations? What, are you living on the streets now?”

“No, I have a bed sir, I’m not sleeping on the streets anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“Um, well yeah, after the Day of Story and Song three years ago, I had nowhere to go, so I was on the streets for a few weeks, but an orphanage took me in.”

“An orphanage?! Are you fucking with me?!” Taako yelled, “You’ve been living in an orphanage with barely enough food, if any, for three fucking years and no one even bothered to check on you?”

“I didn’t want to impose on anyone, sir. I felt wrong aking anyone from the BoB to take me in because I’m not their responsibility,” Angus said, voice soft.

“Well fuck that noise!” Taako stood violently, knocking into the coffee table as he rose. Kravitz chose that exact moment to enter the room carrying a small bag of rolls with him. He looked from Taako to Angus and back with a look of total bewilderment. Taako’s face was pure rage and Angus was sure his was one of fear and shock.

“What is going on here?” Kravitz said, his voice unnaturally calm given the current situation.

“Angus here hasn’t been telling us the whole fucking truth for three fucking years!” Taako shouted.

“What ‘whole truth’ is he talking about, Angus?”

“Ango here has been living in a fucking orphanage with nothing to eat for three. Fucking. Years.” Taako spat. “That shit doesn’t fly. Krav, take us to the orphanage where Angus is staying so I can get those fucking adoption papers now.” With those words, Taako stormed off to the kitchen. Angus could hear some banging as he grabbed the dish out of the oven and dropped on one of the counters. He heard Taako swearing a muttering to himself just loud enough that he could hear the noise, but couldn’t make out any of the words, he just knew that Taako was furious.

“I-I-I didn’t mean to make him angry Mr. Kravitz, I promise I didn’t, I’m just really tired and I’m not thinking straight and I couldn’t come up with a believable lie in time to tell him,” Angus said as he stood, “I just didn’t want to force anyone to take care of me, that’s-” Before he could finish his sentence, he was wrapped up in a tight hug from Kravitz. Despite Kravitz being dead and his skin being cold, Angus had never felt warmer in all his life.

“Angus, shhh, it’s okay, he isn’t mad at you,” Kravitz said in a soft tone, “he’s mad that he didn’t notice you were going through exactly what he and Lup had gone through back on their home world.” Angus was stunned. This information was new to him. Of course, he could infer it what with how jumpy Taako seemed to get in a new place and how he always seemed to know the fastest exit out of any room, but he had never had such clear confirmation. For a long while, they stood there, Angus wrapped up in Kravitz’s arms with his own down at his sides in shock. It took him a moment to process all that was happening and, when he finally did, he felt tears begin to streak down his face. He wrapped his arms tightly around Kravitz, who pulled him down onto the couch, never letting go of him for even a moment. Kravitz combed his fingers through the thick and curly locks as Angus sobbed harder than he had in years. Taako returned at some point and wrapped his arms around the other side of Angus, but no one could tell you when or exactly how it had happened, it just did.

Once Angus had finally calmed down fully, he pulled away from Kravitz, but was unable to escape Taako’s tight grasp. It seemed as if Taako was unwilling to let go for fear that he might lose him or something.

“Don’t you ever do something like this again, okay Ango? We are your dads now, and thats final.” Taako spoke with such finality that Angus was once again overcome with emotions. He wrapped his arms tightly around Taako’s neck and buried his face into it and found himself crying once more. Not out of stress or fear but out of so much happiness that he couldn’t handle it on his own. Taako was happy to oblige him, wrapping his arms tight around his magic boy. They sat there for what felt like forever. Kravitz eventually stood up and went to get something, and Angus faintly registered talking in a room a ways away, but he wasn’t coherent enough to process any of it. After what felt like hours, Taako and Angus let go of each other and only stared. Taako’s eyes were red and puffy just as Angus knew his were, but this was more of a comfort than anything to him.

“How’re you doing kiddo?” Kravitz said as he took his place on the couch once more.

“Better.”

“Good. I just finished speaking with the lady who owns the shelter and she is aware that we are coming to get your things. She sounded drunk.”

“I did some detective work while I was there and I think she knows that I found out she stole all the money we had for food this month to pay for her alcohol.”

“That would explain it,” Kravitz said with a laugh, “when we get there, grab your things and do not say a word to her. Taako and I will deal with her and her employer.”

Angus only nodded in acknowledgement and went to stand up, but was stopped by a hand on his knee.

“Angus,” Taako began, “you are never a burden on any of us, remember that.” His face was stone cold serious. He hadn’t seen this look since three years ago when he was preparing to kick the shit out of Lucretia for lying to him.

“Okay.”

Once the three were calm and collected, they gathered a few bags and waited for Kravitz to rip a tear for them to travel to the orphanage with. Upon their arrival, the woman was standing in front of the building with a scowl on her face. She was yelling at a younger girl who was covered in mud. Once she had been incredibly sweet and loving to all the children, but that was when people were giving all they could to the ‘poor little children who had lost their parents to the Hunger’. Now she was bitter and mean and crude to all the kids she came across. Taako cleared his throat as he stared her down. She waved her hand dismissively and continued to berate the girl for getting her clothes messy, but Taako was having none of it. He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her to face him fully.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she demanded before she laid eyes on him. It was almost comical how wide her eyes got when she was Angus standing behind one of the seven birds. She had known that he was related to them, but they never visited or even contacted him at the orphanage, so she thought they had forgotten about him completely.

“I’m Taako from TV,” he said. And, with all the rage and anger he had pent up, he punched her square in the nose with all the force he had in his body. Granted, it wasn’t much, but she fell backwards, out cold all the same. Kravitz only whistled as she went down and the girl stared at Taako in awe. Taako turned to the young girl and, with a wave of his hand, her dress was pristine again. “Don’t hit people, kid.” He gave her a genuine Taako (™) smile and strode into the orphanage. Angus was left shocked with Kravitz by his side. The man laughed quietly and shook his head, but followed after his husband. Angus followed suit, trying to keep up with him so that none of the other kids would wonder why a Reaper was here with one of the seven birds.

When they stepped inside the house, papers were flying everywhere as Taako searched for the forms he needed to sign. Kravitz nudged Angus towards the stairs and pointed towards where Taako was obviously beginning his search.

“I’ll help him, you go get your stuff, if you need me, just yell.” Angus nodded and began the climb to the shared bedroom for all the boys. He frowned as he got to the top and all the kids in his orphanage were hiding in the room.

“It’s okay,” he began, unsure of how to help the kids, “it’s just me.”

“She said to stay here and out of sight or else, so we did. What’s all the commotion downstairs?” one girl said. Her voice was soft, so Angus could barely understand her, but he smiled anyways.

“Taako is downstairs,” he said. Before he could even finish speaking, the children were scrambling to get down there to meet one of the famous seven birds. Angus was left alone in the giant room with only his thoughts and his stuff to grab. He pulled a chest out from under his bed where he kept all of his things and began to unpack it and put it in the bags Kravitz had given him. He took extra care to cushion his most valuable items: his spell books for school, his journal where he kept all of his detective notes, and a single silver spoon that had belonged to the set his grandfather had entrusted him with that he knew Taako and the other two had stolen on the train. This spoon meant more to him than almost anything else he owned so he put it in the safest spot he could imagine.

With a smile, he looked around the room one last time, gathered his things, and went downstairs to tell the two he was ready to go. It was no surprise to him that Taako had been surrounded by the children. What was a shock was seeing Magnus and Merle there trying to act as decoys.

“Hey guys! Look it’s me, Magnus Burnsides!” he shouted, striking a pose and flexing. Immediately, all the children who had been surrounding Taako flocked to talk to Magnus who took it all in stride. The attention was something that the three of them had gotten very used to in the past few years, so it was nothing for Magnus to be messing with a few of the kids and trying to lift them while Merle tried his damndest to even see over the sea of children. It seemed that none of the kids noticed Angus follow Taako and Kravitz to a side room where they could hopefully have a moment to process everything.

“Thank you for getting those two for me Krav, I couldn’t handle those brats for a second longer,” Taako said with relief evident in his voice. Kravitz only nodded with a fond smile to which Taako rolled his eyes.

“So, Angus, shall we?” Kravitz said. He gestured to the desk where Taako and he had already signed the paperwork. The ink was fresh with their signatures, but that of the orphanage’s owner’s was not.

“She must have signed all of the forms forever ago,” Taako said with disgust, “she wanted ou all out of her hair so badly, I bet she would have gladly given one of you to anyone with cash.”

“Sirs?” Angus said, voice small, “Are you sure about this?”

“Of course we are, Angus,” Kravitz said with a gentle smile, “we love you, and we want you to be happy. Do you want this?”

“Absolutely,” Angus said with a gigantic grin on his face. His eyes had gotten a bit teary and his vision was getting slightly blurred, but he was happy. Taako handed him the pen to sign that he agreed to be adopted, and Angus drew his signature over the line with the biggest smile he had had in years.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of things. Taako and Kravitz took him to the nearest city hall to turn in the paperwork and make it fully official. The secretary there was shocked by Taako’s sudden appearance with a literal reaper’s scythe that dropped them in the middle of her office. Once there, the woman only nodded in awe to the questions Taako asked. When they brought up the lady in charge of the orphanage, the secretary shook from her stupor and began writing things down. She assured them that the woman would be fired promptly and a new person would be instated as the caretaker. Taako also insisted on making a hefty donation to the orphanages that fell under the jurisdiction of this city, to which the woman humbly accepted and tucked away.

“If I find out my money has gone to anything except the kids,” Taako spoke, his voice suddenly deep and filled with anger, “all hell will break loose.” The woman only nodded, pupils blown wide in fear. Satisfied his money would be used well, Kravitz tore open another portal, this one to their home.

As Angus stepped foot into their living room with all of his things in hand, it finally settled in his mind that this was real. This wasn’t just a dream, this was actually happening. He would be with a family, a real family, and he would finally be safe for the first time in three years.

“Your room is upstairs, I’m gonna heat up dinner real fast,” Taako said, all but sprinting away to the kitchen.

As if Kravitz could hear Angus’ concerns, he spoke, “Don’t worry about him, okay Angus? He loves you, I promise, he’s just really bad at showing vulnerability sometimes.” Angus nodded with a small smile. He knew Taako loved him, he knew the trio loved him, because they teased him so often but they were also softer to him than anyone else. Kravitz patted him on the head and started for the stairs to lead Angus to his new room. When they entered, it was basically empty save for the massive bed against one of the walls and a dresser with a mirror on top. Despite the lack of furniture in the room, Angus had never felt so at home.

“Welcome home kiddo,” Kravitz said, “I’ve always wanted to be a dad, you know. So has Taako. The last time he got drunk, actually, he talked about adopting you, but you hadn’t shown any interest in being adopted by anyone, so he dropped it quickly. He’s really fucking happy about this.”

“I know sir, I am too,” Angus said, “thank you, sir, for adopting me.”

“Angus, you don’t have to call us ‘sir’ anymore. You can call me dad if you want, or if you don’t want, whatever works for me. I just want you to be happy here.”

“Okay, sir,” Angus paused, “dad.” Absolute joy took over Kravitz’ face and he had to seemingly restrain himself from wrapping Angus up in a bear hug.

“Get settled in, and then come down for dinner, okay?”

“Alright.” With that, Kravitz turned and retreated down the hallway and downstairs. Angus watched him go for a moment, before he stepped into his new room and into his new life.

And he truly couldn’t have been happier if he’d tried.

36 notes · View notes

story-and-song · 6 years ago

Text

Joy

A look at Taako, Merle, and Magnus, and the ways that they find joy.

read it on ao3!

What brings me joy is… life. I think you can find joy anywhere in life. I think it’s a conscious choice. I think you - you choose joy, in life… But whatever I do, I find joy in it. Because at the end of the day, that’s all you got, is looking back on the joy you had and the joy you found and the joy you gave other people.

And I’ll tell you what, if we ever meet each other somewhere in infinity, you can apologize to me and tell me you were wrong.

Joy is not always easy. Light and happiness and love and sheer, unadulterated joy seem to dance just out of reach sometimes, tantalizingly close but never enough. Darkness fills in the gaps that they leave, fear and sorrow and hatred and arrogance. It crawls into the spaces that should belong to joy, if you let it.

But this is not inevitable or right. There is always a choice to be made. It may seem like the most difficult choice in the world, where the worse option is right in front of you and the other sits on the peak of a mountain high above - it may not even feel like a choice. But it always, always is. Joy can be chosen, can be found, can be made. No matter what.

Wagon wheels creak as a stagecoach races away from a town choking on poison, and its sole occupant save for the driver is curled in on himself, mumbling lists of ingredients over and over because it’s all he can think to do. Nightshade, it had to be nightshade, he whispers. My fault. He never thinks to check the cabinets, even when the bottle of arsenic inside of the one belonging to his assistant rattles with the movement of the cart. Guilt eats away at him, even while he shoves it deeper and deeper in a desperate attempt not to feel.

It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.

Except that it isn’t.

Years later, unwelcome tears prick at the corners of his eyes and his hands shake as he levels his umbrella at the lonely journal keeper. He’s reeling from the sudden influx of memories. He’s lost so much.

“You fucking took everything from me,” he spits, venom in his voice. Everything that he’d ever had, had ever held dear, torn away from him. His memories, his life, his choices… his sister. Lup. How could he have forgotten? He trembles with fury, gritting his teeth against the unfairness of it all. What little he’d found that made life worth living, gone. He’d been thrown out into a cruel, unforgiving world, alone for the first time in his life, and things had only gotten worse from there.

The anger and sorrow and guilt - not your fault, not your fault, but you’ll never forget the faces of those people, all those people, they were so happy and then they were dead - surge through his veins until he feels hollow, like they’ve left no room for anything else.

But they have. Just a few hours later, he stands on the deck of their ship one last time, side by side with the family he’d forgotten he had and found again anyway. He is still angry - of course he is, how could he not be? But his sister is back, his family is back, they’re finally doing what they should have done a century ago. He takes a deep breath, stares defiantly out at the shadows surrounding them, and thinks of the good times.

Stepping onto the Starblaster for the first time. Dinners cooked by two sets of hands in its tiny kitchen, always far too much food for seven people. Surfing during that one glorious cycle when they’d managed to take a break. Laughter ringing across the deck, through the halls, and in the streets and forests and fields of every new world they found. Exploring, scavenging, Lup always by his side. A mischievous smile, a sideways glance, a wordless language that only they spoke and working constantly in tandem. The best day ever.

And then, the new ones. Teaching Angus. Saving a city from a runaway train. Winning the race in Goldcliff, even if he might not have technically followed the rules. Pulling Magnus back from the brink of the Astral Plane. The rush of pride every time Ren recognized him. His first date with Kravitz. Every victory, every triumph, every moment of joy.

That is what he fights for.

Taako’s good out here.

I’m not going fucking anywhere.

A man falls to his knees as the ashes of his life smolder around him, hands stained grey with soot and guilt rising in the back of his throat. He’s too late, too late, and everything is gone. The worst part is the silence. No familiar voices, not even crying out for help. There’s nothing left.

Deep, ragged breaths tear free of his chest as he watches the smoke billow from the wreckage of his home through a blur of tears. He stumbles to his feet, staggers closer, begins to dig even as the heat blisters his skin. Charred wood crumbles at his touch. When he pulls the half-scorched carving of a small duck from the embers, it’s all he can do not to collapse.

Eventually, he finds his prize. A small golden ring, miraculously undamaged, gleams in the last of the firelight as he picks it up and curls his fingers around it like it’s a lifeline. Half-formed memories flicker through his mind. The edge of a soft smile, warm eyes crinkled at the edges with laughter, strong hands that could wield a sword as well as any tool. Revolution, freedom, love. Julia.

Gone.

He carries that pain for the rest of his life, but it becomes his energy, his driving force; not the anger or the guilt, but the thought of her. She would want better for him. So he tries to be better, to do better, to be an unshakeable foundation of goodness and light even if it kills him. He misses her so much that it takes his breath away, but he knows he can’t have her back. Not yet. It’s all he can do to live on for her, to pack so much adventure into one lifespan that by the time he sees her again he’ll have enough stories to span decades.

He’s surprised by how easy it is to turn down the offer to bring her back. Knowing how she would hate the consequences helps.

Then, when he finally remembers - fully this time, no more static, no more missing pieces - all the blank spots on the list of things that he fights for are filled in. Julia remains the first. But just below her is Fisher, Johann, the bureau, the rest of the crew, their homeland and all the other worlds that they’ve watched die, all the wrongs that he has to make right simply because he knows he can. He’s seen so many terrible things, lost so much, but it doesn’t break him.

It makes him stronger.

After everything, he still has his odd little ragtag family. They stand together against the storm, just as they always have. And Magnus remembers more than the destruction.

He remembers a glorious symphony, projected for all the world to hear from their first day in the Legato Conservatory. He remembers the fear of placing his own offering, a small and intricately carved wooden duck, and the relief and joy when it was accepted. He remembers the first time he met Fisher. He remembers training with the Power Bear, and coaching his team to victory, and growing stronger over their century-long voyage. And he remembers all the times that they won.

Of course he still remembers Raven’s Roost too, Steven and Julia and all of the people that had fought a revolution by his side. It had been a place that he’d thought he could spend the rest of his life. A cozy house, polished wooden carvings smooth beneath his hands, and the love he and his wife shared filling every room with light and joy; that was all he’d wanted.

Maybe he can’t have that, but he still has love to give. And that will have to be enough.

Magnus rushes in, and brings joy with him.

I tried to make you proud.

The night air clings cold and quiet as as a cloaked figure walks purposefully down a hard-packed dirt road, the lights of his home fading into the distance along with the sound of waves. His heart is heavy, no matter how many times he tells himself that it’s not. He doesn’t look back, but it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done. They’re better off without me, he mumbles to himself. I never loved her anyway. She’ll take better care of them than I ever could.

He almost manages to convince himself.

It’s years before he tries to contact his children again. He misses them, hates that he left them behind, but every time he tries to write, guilt and doubt stay his hand. Unfinished letters begin to pile up. He still tells himself that it’s better this way. Saying it doesn’t make it true, but it makes him feel just a bit better for a while - until later, when the built-up lies make it worse.

Throwing himself into a life of adventure helps for a time. He travels, fights, laughs and swaps stories and never talks about his family with group after nameless group of adventurers. Time passes. The fulfillment he’s looking for never comes. Something is missing, and he assumes that it’s the family he left behind. He’s tired of feeling lost.

He finally sends a letter. Their first meeting is awkward, strange, his daughter hanging back with distrust in her eyes and a constant, protective hand on her brother’s shoulder. He wishes he’d brought them gifts of some kind, then realizes that he has no idea what they would even want. It ends with a strained goodbye, a promise to see them again soon, and a look that calls him a liar more clearly than if she’d screamed it.

But he decides that he’s never going to give her a reason to look at him like that again. He meant it, he realizes; he’s going to keep trying. It might be difficult, but it will be worth it. He visits them in between journeys, starts bringing them back trinkets from wherever he goes. Perhaps it isn’t enough to make up for leaving them in the first place, but it’s a start. At least he’s here now, as much as he can be.

He still feels strangely lonely. It doesn’t make sense until he’s standing on the moon base as the Hunger descends and memories flood his mind.

He remembers what he’d lost, and everything seems to fall into place. His family, their journey, everything that they’ve been through together. He remembers the mistakes he’s made, over a century’s worth of them, and he knows that walking away was not the first thing he did wrong. But he tries again anyway. Always. No matter what, he always tries again, tries to fix his mistakes and make the world a little better.

He always finds the spark of joy in everything, even when it’s nothing more than the tiniest flicker of hope for a silver lining amidst a sea of black clouds.

That is who he is, and that is how he’s come so far.

And he is more than his mistakes. He is the one who walked away, but is also the one who stayed to give a church full of frightened citizens comfort as their world fell to pieces around them. He is the one who pulled his friend’s souls back from the brink of the astral plane. He is the one who stared down an entity hell-bent on destroying existence and challenged him to a game of chess. He is the one who heals, who helps, who listens, and above all, who tries.

And he is happy.

Will you sit with me? Just… Just for a moment?

You got it, buddy.

He sits on a beach that doesn’t exist next to a dying friend. It feels inevitable, things ending this way. The distant sunset paints the whole world gold as they watch in silence, and it’s bittersweet and beautiful and he knows that he was right, but John is dying; he’s not going to force an apology out of a man that already knows that he was wrong. They say nothing, but they both understand. This is a silent concession. The universe is worth more than its mistakes, and he can almost feel a shift in John’s presence, shadows fading under the brilliant light of something as simple and mundane as a sunset. He feels joy, small and uncertain but still true, soften the lines on John’s face with an air of finality. There’s still no apology, but he doesn’t mind.

His greatest enemy and strangest friend vanishes with the sun, and Merle is left alone with an odd combination of grief and contentment as the tide goes out.

After everything, they all choose joy.

#bailey writes #taz balance #taako #merle #magnus #thb #the zone cast #The Adventure Zone #merle highchurch #magnus burnsides

5 notes · View notes

nerdy-flower · 6 years ago

Text

@sinunamor here it is! This is part 1 of a 3-part headcanon I’ve had for a while, I really hope you like it! Sorry it took forever ;^;

Hugo knows change has come to roost when Ernest's dinnertime debriefs turn from reluctant, barely-there details to soap-opera recaps with all the accompanying comedy and tragedy.

“-and I didn't even know this, but Mackenzie told me later, that they were dating before he even dumped Emily, which is like- come on, dude. Did you look at all your options and pick the douchiest possible one?”

“That is very selfish,” Hugo says, frowning around a mouthful of chicken. “I always thought Pat was a nice young man.”

“So did I!” Ernest snorts, stabbing at his rice and sending some spilling over the side. “He's literally the only reason I've been hanging out with the theatre kids. The rest of them are so-”

Damien cuts in as Ernest briefly flails, searching for a word. “Dramatic?”

“Weak,” Ernest pulls a face, seemingly physically pained by the quality of the dad-joke, while Damien appears rather pleased with himself, chuckling into his hand. “Anyway, so Mackenzie said that Pat told her he was just going to keep it on the downlow, basically, until summer because Emily's moving, right? It won't be as awkward then. Except I guess they kind of forgot that their Insta accounts aren't private? So now everyone knows, and Emily has to stage manage her ex-boyfriend while he has a romantic subplot with her former rugby teammate. Because that's not going to go terribly at all.”

“Good heavens,” Damien replies after a moment, dabbing his lips with a cloth napkin. “I don't recall any tales so tangled from my youth, but then, perhaps I've repressed all that nonsense.”

“Didn't they get voted 'cutest couple' in the yearbook?” Hugo cringes as Ernest enthusiastically nods, kindly not answering with his mouth full. “Oh god, and that just went to the printers- No wonder Ms. Lee had aspirin with her lunch today.”

“Yeah, it's all like ten levels of stupid,” Ernest grumbles, not even distracted by Duchess' damp nose nudging at his lap. “I swear, I'm gonna have like no friends by graduation because I can't deal with everybody acting like they've found their soulmate and then dumping them in two weeks. No one our age is gonna get married until our thirties, anyway, shit's expensive.”

“Language,” Hugo chimes in, met with the usual roll of the eyes and offended huff.

“One's youth can be rather fraught and strained,” Damien adds with a knowing grimace, their cutlery clinking audibly against their plates in the quiet coziness of Hugo's dining room. “But you'll find people who don't engage with those sorts of theatrics. And besides, those who do will soon grow out of it.”

“Yeah right, I've heard that one before,” Ernest scoffs, returning to his food. He's quiet for the rest of the meal, and their walk through the park at dusk, Duchess and her boy running ahead. Damien's fingers find Hugo's after sending a quick check-in text to Lucien, and he feels a tentative kind of bliss run through him in the warmth of the setting sun.

***

Hugo's deep-down, etched-on-his-bones love for his job keeps him motivated through all the obnoxious students, righteously indignant parents, and illogical funding cuts, but he does keep a small, hate-fuelled torch burning for outdoor supervision. It's especially hard not to envision his student loan payments going up in smoke while breaking up fights, confiscating cigarettes, or discovering another hopelessly unoriginal piece of lewd graffiti.

Today has been blissfully quiet, if blanketed by damp warmth. He wipes sweat from his brow as he continues his circle around the middle school building. A new fast food joint had recently opened down the street and the promise of buy-one-get-one fries had draw most of the troublemakers away. With the bell approaching, he turns to head in and spots a familiar orange hoodie near the emergency exit ramp behind the library and sighs. No one is ever up to anything good behind the library.

He's still a good thirty feet away, obscured by the parked rustbucket cars in the student lot when he glimpses a shock of pink hair attached to one of his Comp Lit students from Ernest's grade. Tahereh is her name and she's giggling, along with his son, and leaning in awfully close- Nope.

Nope, nope, nope. He turns on his heel and walks away as quickly and quietly as he can. His son deserves privacy, and he had mentioned being paired on a geography project with that girl-

Hugo blows out a sigh, purposefully forgetting the follies of his own adolescence before he gets himself worked up over nothing.

***

A lengthy text conversation with Nick is an unusual relief. He would have preferred to do it by phone, but the man is in England of all places on a work trip. Besides, it's a little more private should Ernest come strolling in.

HV: You're sure you're okay with me taking the helm on this one?

NH: Oh yeah, I'm not worried. You're better at this kinda stuff than I am.

NH: I'll be home in a couple days so I can run recon if things go south lol

Hugo does manage to chuckle at that. Nick instructs him to break a leg and says he's turning in but to text if need be. A lengthy message pops in from Damien, having been Hugo's confidante the previous day, reminding him that his own similar chat with Lucien a few years prior was awkward at the time, but went a long way in maintaining good communication. As well as reassurance that Hugo is a wonderful father with no reason to doubt himself, and this is another prime example of it.

The usual expressions of affection at the close never fail to make Hugo smile. He types a slightly longer than necessary reply and pushes his glasses up. With a silent pep talk, he heads upstairs. It's not like he's going in blind. They've had plenty of very open talks since Ernest was small. About bodies and boundaries and babies. This topic isn't inherently uncomfortable, it's on him to shake that mindset.

Ernest's room is in its usual disarray, but he beckons him in quickly and takes his earbuds out. Flat on his back with his tablet held overhead. As good a start as any.

He assumes the best non-threatening parental figure pose, sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees. Ernest is way too clever to fall for the small-talk nonsense so he skips to the point. “I hope you're not upset by this, but I saw you and Tahereh behind the school last-”

“What the hell?” Ernest bites back, anger narrowing his eyes as he drops his tablet and sits up fully. “You're spying on me now?”

“Of course not!” Hugo answers, quick and even with hands held up. “I was on yard duty, I turned right around. The only reason I'm bringing it up is-”

“She's not my girlfriend,” Ernest spits back, blushing and running hot. He draws his knees up and hugs them, a habit leftover from his toddling years. “We just kissed because we're cool like that. It was whatever. Don't make a big deal out of it.”

“I'm not, I promise,” Hugo says, confused and not entirely convinced but trying not to let on. “But say you did find someone you liked and wanted to start dating them, your Pop and I wouldn't be opposed at all. I only wanted to check in with you about er, safety and-”

“Oh my god,” Ernest covers his face, dragging the last word out into a strangled note of exasperation. “I've had sex ed like five times already, I don't need this. Please just shut up.”

Hugo decides admonishing him via their no 'shut up' rule would only make things worse. “I know you have all the basics covered. I just need you to know that you can always come to me or Pop for anything, okay? Don't ever feel embarrassed.” He reaches into his shirt pocket, takes a deep breath, and removes the small cardboard container, pushing it across the comforter towards his son. “And if you need these at any point, don't-”

“Oh my god, no,” Ernest's scowl deepens, the blush creeping down his neck as he explodes in frustration. “No, no, no! I'm never gonna need those, so just get the hell out of here!”

Hugo feels the wrinkles crease on his face as he struggles to say the right thing. Had the divorce put him off the idea of relationships entirely? God, he's too young to be thinking that way, isn't he? “I just want you to have these in case, you know, you meet someone and you want-”

“I don't 'want,' I never have and I'm never going to!” Ernest throws his hands up, eyes still flashing. “I'm a fucking freak, are you happy now? Get out!”

Hugo does not, merely stills as Ernest mashes his face into his knees, actually vibrating from anger, sadness, or both. It nearly does him in, there's nothing that hurts him more than seeing his son in pain. Thankfully, he had said just enough for the puzzle pieces to snap together in Hugo's head.

When the boy's breathing evens out, Hugo dares to inch closer, the mattress sagging with his weight. “Ernest, you're not a freak. There's lots of asexual people in the world and-”

“Name one.” The snappish tone is muffled by denim and knobby knees.

“Well, I mean, I don't know any personally,” Hugo says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But they do exist, they're not unicorns.”

“Unicorns don't exist? This entire day sucks.” They both laugh hesitantly at that, a sigh resounding from under the orange hoodie. “Mrs. Finn said in health that people who say they're asexual are just dealing with like, trauma or whatever. We're all driven to make more people, so it makes no sense scientifically.”

Hugo silently counts to three in his head. “Have you ever been hurt?”

That finally picks his head up, glaring at his father again. “No!”

“Then clearly that's not true. Ca- Mrs. Finn is sadly misinformed.” And would be told as much, without directly mentioning Ernest. Seniority be damned, he was going to have words with the Board that's what it takes. He manages a small smile for Ernest. “If sex is only about reproduction, how do you account for gay people?”

“Gay people can still like- do what's necessary to make a kid.” Ernest waves a hand towards himself. “C'est voila, or whatever.”

Hugo snort-laughs at that, he does admire his son's wit even in serious moments. “Well, so can ace people. There's lots of ways to make a family.” Ernest merely grumbles in reply and looks away. “And- I know it really doesn't seem that way sometimes, but there's a lot more to relationships than the physical bits. They're important to some people, but not everyone, and not in the same way.”

Ernest stays resolutely silent, staring at a fraying movie poster on the wall. “You will find someone who loves you, mijo. It might take time, but you'll find them.”

“Yeah, when I'm finally old enough to join Virgin4Virgin dot net.” Ernest only slightly resists his dad's chastising ruffle of his hair, glancing down at the box of condoms with moderate disgust. “Can you throw those out and we pretend this never happened?”

“I'll put them in the bathroom cupboard. I'm not saying you will, but if you ever did want to be with someone that way-” Hugo tucks the box in his pocket as Ernest's pained groan cuts him off. “Listen, this could have been much worse. Before I went to my first party, your Abuela made me sit at the dining room table and wouldn't let me leave until I correctly put a condom on a banana.”

“You're lying,” Ernest replies blankly, only for his eyes to bug out at Hugo's unfailing stare. “You're serious? Oh my god, that's- I can't believe Abuela is capable of such savagery.”

“You don't know the half of it,” Hugo chuckles darkly, then carefully touches Ernest's shoulder. “Hey, I'm really glad you told me. I won't tell Pop, that's your conversation to have with him.”

“Thanks,” Ernest glances down, frowning and fidgeting in place. “Can I like, go now? I promised Carmensita I'd help her set up for open mic night.”

Hugo smiles stiffly, moving out of his son's way. “Yeah, you can go now. Text me when you're there, alright?”

Ernest makes a non-committal noise and hurries down the stairs, drawing the attention of Duchess. Hugo shuts the bedroom door behind him with a small sigh.

***

Carmensita's dad comes with the most fringe benefits by far. Not only are they allowed 'backstage' provided they help out and don't cause trouble (Ernest never has, something about how calm Mat is kinda intimidates him to be honest, it's the ones with the longest fuses that you have to watch out for), they get to enjoy the whole show for free and eat/drink anything leftover at the end of the night. Even if some of the acts are a little weird, it's still way cooler than sitting around watching TV.

“Hugo knows he's picking you up, right?” Lucien asks over the roof of his secondhand car, keys in his hand. “I've got plans after.”

Ernest grins wide. “Man, don't ask him out if you can't even say his name right.”

Lucien somewhat-gently shoves him as they cross the small parking lot. “Hey, have you ever heard about shut the hell up?”

He disappears into the crowd and Ernest soon finds Carmensita. He's been spending way more time with her lately. Girls aren't gross about sex like all his guy friends are now, making “that's what she said” jokes literally every five seconds. She's also one of the last vestiges of sanity in his grade, as off-put by the constant dating drama as he is. They sit in the back kitchen, chatting with the younger, more anxious performers and talking about 'Hamilton' between sets.

“I'm pretty sure I'm gonna listen to the cast album once a week for the rest of my life,” she says, cheek full of Right Said Banana Bread, or whatever it's called this week. “And I'm totally okay with that.”

“Oh, once a week minimum,” Ernest nods eagerly, leaning out to watch some college kid plunk away on an acoustic guitar. Bo-ring. “I would straight up sell my soul to write that good. Like, find me one lyric that doesn't land. One, I dare you.”

“It doesn't exist,” she concurs, picking a crumb out of her front braces. “Oh! You'll never guess who's finally putting out a new album!”

“Who?”

And on and on it goes. Even though the linoleum hurts his butt, chilling with Carmensita is his favourite part of the week. No fighting, no bullshit, just goofs and talking about whatever. She's basically the funniest person he knows, doing an impression of Damien that has him choking on his own spit. It makes him forget everything else. Well, almost.

Once everyone files out, they pick up their brooms and try to clean up quickly while Mat counts the money. He heads into the back to put a bank bag together and leaves them jamming to the music still playing over the speakers.

Ernest stops polishing the counter to the beat, his curiosity getting the best of him. “Hey, 'Sita?”

Carmensita glances up, still doing something between the mashed potato and the tootsie roll while sweeping, not in the least caring about the backlit glass storefront behind her. He wishes he were that cool. “Yeah?”

“Do you think asexuality's like, a thing?”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Carmensita replies, knocking a couple muffin wrappers from beneath a table like she's going for the slapshot. “Why?”

“Eh, no reason.” Ernest shrugs and keep polishing. “Just seems kinda weird to me, is all?”

“Not really though,” Carmensita pushes her pink glasses back up, tucking the broom under her arm to gesture. “It's like that thing in that Bruce Willis superhero movie. If there's someone at one end of the spectrum, there's gotta be someone else at the other end, plus all the people in the middle, right?”

Ernest makes a considering noise, pitching his scrubber into the sink. “Yeah, you're right.”

Mat returns and they lock up, Hugo's car humming in the empty street. Ernest fist-bumps Carmensita as she heads off with her dad. “We're still on for the fair next Saturday right? I'm retaking my skee ball title this year!”

“In your dreams,” she sticks her tongue out and waves to him. “Don't get grounded, okay?”

“I won't!” Ernest grins, turning and shuffling towards the hopefully not-awkward, air-conditioned comfort of his dad's car.

#sinunamor #dream daddy #ddadds #hugo vega #ernest hemingway vega #there's a smidge of vegamarch #dream daddy hc #kind of a fic

17 notes · View notes

nookishposts · 4 years ago

Text

Chicken Diaries June 21/20

We’ve had our hens almost 4 weeks. As first-timers we thought we would play it safe and get 6 ready-to-lay 18-week-old pullets instead of hand-raising cute baby chicks. They arrived in a green plastic crate and there exists a video of me opening that to release them into our carefully constructed chicken coop. Let’s just say they needed some encouragement. The process involved considerable cussing and laughter, some of it even came from me. But a few minutes effort and they began to come out of their conspiratorial little huddle in the corner and explore their new digs.

Instead of building a new free-standing structure, we decided to modify one end of the good-sized shed that came with this property. We cordoned off an 8 x 10 ft section , building a wall with wooden pallets and chicken wire, also wiring in the ceiling so nobody would be tempted to roost in the rafters and small prey birds wouldn’t have access. We installed 4 nesting boxes on a shelf approximately 3 feet off the ground, using plastic bins on their sides and screwed into the wooden framework. I’ve seen others screw plastic buckets to the wall, or use old record bins, milk crates, etc, and all research suggests it doesn’t really matter what they are made of as long as they are dark and cozy and quietly out of the way. I lined them with shavings and chopped straw and put a ceramic egg (golf balls can also be used apparently) to give the juveniles inspiration. I even hung an old towel cut into fringes over the top couple of inches of each opening, just as I have seen farmers do. Feed and water dispensers sit on a small platform. The next addition was a large cedar branch along one wall to serve as a roost. A 40 gallon feed bin full of laying mash was tucked tidily beneath. For someone with zero decorating or fashion sense I was quite pleased with myself. A good thick layer of wood shavings on the concrete floor. And the piece de resistance was the chicken door...cut into the side wall of the shed, about 18 inches up, snazzy ladders on either side lovingly crafted by my sister-in-law. It has a hatch that clips open and shut, and even a little shingled flap to keep out the weather. The outdoor pen to which this leads is a reclaimed dog run frame courtesy of neighbours down the road who just wanted rid of it. We cut it to a 8 x 12 x 6 foot size, freshened the wire and top against predators, added another roost, a water trough and a tarp for shade. Oh, and yes, there are human accesses to each area. I couldn’t fit through a chicken door even in my salad days. So, the birds had good food, water, shelter, and a nice new home. Eggs would come by the time the girls reached 21 weeks old according to the experts.

Thus our education began. Notice I said “our”.

First step was teaching them how to get out into the yard. It made sense to trail a little mash up the ladder rungs. They just stood alongside and pecked it off. So I gathered one girl up and put her on the little landing just inside the hatch. I got cussed out and flapped at for my efforts , but she calmed down enough to think it over, and then fell out the other side into the pen. Let’s call it a partial success. As chickens can fly, I figured I would just shove them out the door; they could soften their landing in feathery parachutes and then just figure out how to get back in on their own. It took a few tries but we all grew into it. They practically tap-dance up and down their ladders now, the little show-offs. Each morning when I open their hatch they shove one another out of the way in a race to be first into the yard. And like any other young-ins, they lead me a merry chase to get them to go to bed at bedtime. When they do get settled in, they are all lined up and fluffed out, 6 feathery dirndle skirts in a row on their roost, drowsy-eyed and singing one another to sleep. It’s pretty adorable.

I try to spend a little quality time with them each day, sitting on a block in the chicken run with treats, so they readily hand-feed and get used to being handled. I can keep an eye on the health of beaks and claws and general well-being. There have been times when there’s a bird on my shoulder, another on my knee and a third on my foot. I have yet to be pooped on, but that too will come in time. Not that I am in any rush. They love rotten bananas, strawberry tops, and cheese curds. They are nuts for radish greens and lettuce. Potato peels are ignored and cucumber kicked aside. Most chickens will eat a variety of kitchen scraps but we seem to have 6 little Kardashian divas on our hands...picky girls demanding quality. I am merely a vending machine in crocs...as I approach they see me coming and get all coo-ey and sweet. Unless they see me on a water run but otherwise empty handed. Nobody here will fess up to teaching them that kind language. Divas they may be, but they ain’t ladies. I serve, they lay.

And now we come to our biggest point of contention.

Those are damned nice laying boxes. Clean, soft, cosy, basic black. Add a string of pearls and you could wear them anywhere. At the correct height. Softly bedded. A little snack in the corner of each one, because, you know, delivering potential offspring is exhausting work. Or so I’m told by my own Mother Hen. Anywho....at 20 weeks we had our first egg and I managed to find it while it was still warm from the oven, tucked neatly into a low corner of the coop. I ran with it into the house, proudly showing it off like a first grader with a finger painting. My Beloved and I celebrated with a three-way selfie; us and the pretty little peachy-brown perfect orb of poultry protein. We had been warned not to eat the first few eggs if they were at all soft, misshapen, or in any way unusual. This one was Oscar-worthy and it sat in pride of place on the kitchen island for days while we sighed in admiration and patted ourselves on the back. We’d have displayed it on the fridge door if we could have figured out how.

For a few days, I gently lifted the growing girls into the 4 nesting boxes, praising and petting them, making sure they saw the ceramic examples. To absolutely no avail. We found eggs everywhere; in the corners, on the frames, behind the feed bin, next to the water dispenser, even one in the yard. The boxes remain undisturbed by volunteers except the odd scrounging chipmunk cleaning up maternity snacks. A few eggs have been bomb-dropped from the height of the roost and decoratively splattered onto the floor. Chickens clean these up themselves thankfully. We told ourselves they were still young and learning. In one particularly popular corner, I stuck a cardboard box filled with shavings, out of curiosity. Sure enough, a couple of little gems glistened there the next morning. Aha! So logically I took one of the fancy boxes from it’s ledge and stuck it in the same corner, leaving the cardboard box on top out of the way. Yay!

This morning, entering carefully as always in order to avoid stepping on or in anything untoward, I peeked around the door to behold the following: one hen perched in the cardboard box, having just delivered her duty, whilst a second girl perched directly on top of the first was doing her best to comply. We had layered layers. Sure enough, egg number 2 dropped into the butt feathers of the bottom girl and rolled gently off into the bedding next to egg # 1. The hens smiled. There may even have been a winged high-five, I’m not sure.

I surrender.

We are averaging 6 eggs per day every day now, with only the odd misfire. Serving a frittata to my Mum, (who is here to visit for the first time as we could keep things pandemically safe enough to do so), from eggs laid the very same morning was a stupidly proud moment for me. I no longer care where the birds deposit their booty, as long as I don’t have to step in it. There’s a For Rent sign on each of the four custom nesting boxes.Perhaps there’s an introverted mallard out in the wetlands looking for a new home. I’ll just continue to be the vending machine with the poopy shoes. I know my place.

0 notes

evolutionsvoid · 7 years ago

Photo

For many cultures and species, the night time is one that instills fear and dread. To be surrounded by darkness, unknowing of what lurks in the shadows around you. When darkness falls, many retreat to the lighted safety of towns and villages, hiding within their warm, cozy homes. The darkened world only offers horrors and other monstrosities, waiting for foolish prey to leave the safety of the light. For some parts, these superstitions and fears are silly, as the night is just a time when other animals and creatures come out to hunt and forage. The daytime offers plenty of carnivores that hunger for meat, and you don't see people barricading themselves in their homes on a sunny day. It is just the chill of a darkened world that heightens paranoia, making people think there are monsters behind every corner. While I do say some of this stuff is silly, there is some truth to a few of their fears. The night can bring some nasty monsters, though not the kind some may think. People go on about horrid beasts from the sky that rip apart ignorant prey, or abominations that can wield the darkness like a blade and slice through exposed necks. In truth, these stories may have been spawned by less terrifying critters, like the nipper wyrm. Then again, the nipper wyrm may still fit the role of "horrifying, flesh eating beast" to some people. Nipper wyrms are small, aerial creatures that can dwell in a variety of environments. Their preferred habitat is rocky places that have caves for them to set up their roosts. Mountainous regions or even arid environments can house the nipper wyrms, as long as there are caves to sleep in and nighttime prey to feed on. Nipper wyrms are nocturnal creatures, spending the daylight hours in their cave roosts. At that time, they are either sleeping or socializing with their fellows. Nipper wyrms have suckers on the ends of their tails that allow them to hang from the ceilings of caves. During the day, they spend most of their time upside down, easily able to sleep or clean while dangling from above. If they wish to move, they usually detach, flutter to a new spot and suck back onto the rocky surface. When night falls, that is when they leave their roost and go out to hunt.

Nipper wyrms are well known by their night time activities, as that is when they deploy their famous hunting technique. When darkness covers the land, the wyrms will leave their cave and scatter into the night. Since their eyes are small and poor of sight, they rely more on their sense of smell to detect prey. The wyrms will follow their nose to the scent of prey, seeking out animals that are large in size and slow in speed. At night, the larger creatures of the land are usually asleep, which the wyrms are counting on. Creatures like moose, bear, cow, deer or other large mammals are what they are looking for. When a wyrm finds a suitable target, they will flutter down and land on them. Being small in size and light in weight, many sleeping creatures hardly notice them. They will scramble to the creature's side or back, looking to keep away from tooth and claw. When they find a good spot, they will suction their upper lip to the victim's skin to anchor themselves. When properly attached, they bite down with their razor sharp lower jaw and twist their bodies around. This movement will tear out a plug of flesh, which they will quickly swallow while they beat a hasty retreat. Megafauna may not notice the tiny creatures, but they will sure feel the sharp bite carving through them. By the time the victim awakens and tries to attack, the nipper wyrm will be back in the sky and soaring free from danger. Nipper wyrms only a require a few mouthfuls of meat to satiate them, then they will go back to their cave to digest and rest. These wyrms can also scavenge off of carcasses, taking advantage of prey that will never wake up again. When nipper wyrms breed, they create sticky egg sacs that they hang in their roosts. During the day, the females will hang next to these cocoons and wrap them in their wings. When the young hatch, they will be held by their mothers until they can properly attach themselves to the ceiling. There they will hang for days, getting their meals from their mothers. The females usually digest the meat into a soup, which they regurgitate into the young ones' mouths. After a few weeks, the young will be strong enough to hunt on their own and the mother who cease to care for them. While nipper wyrms are small creatures, they are big problems to a lot of people. It should be no surprise that these creatures are seen as pests, especially to farmers who raise livestock. Cattle, sheep, goats and pigs are perfect for the hungry flyers, who will come at night to feed. If the farmer has not properly sealed up their livestock for the night, they can expect to find their animals to have bloody holes in them the next morning. These bites are usually not fatal, as they are shallow and small, but they can leave an opening for infection. If the nipper wyrms are having a hard time finding food, they may focus their efforts on the livestock and attack in swarms. One or two bites are not too devastating, but if a dozen of these hungry creatures descend upon a single cow, things don't turn out very pretty. With that, farmers are quick to locate roosts in the area and get rid of them. They may either scare them off or kill them, whichever works for them, as they just want them gone. While they are a harm to livestock, many act like these creatures are a danger to humans and other fleshy civilizations. You will hear plenty of stories about how swarms of them descend upon towns and rip through the screaming inhabitants, or how people wander off into the night to return with bloody holes in them. I will say right now that most of these stories are simply untrue. Nipper wyrms do not target humans or other similar prey as they are too fast and small for their liking. The key to their hunting strategy is stealth, as they do not want to be noticed by their prey. Humans who are awake and moving make difficult targets for them to feed on, so they simply won't do it. They prefer fat, lazy cows instead. Now can I say for certain that nipper wyrms have never fed on a human being? Well, no. I can't rule out that one of these guys has nipped someone before, but I would say it is extremely rare. Vicious they can be, but they are still quite fragile. None of them want to be in a fight, as they will not last long. Flailing screaming humans are a surefire way to break a wing, so they won't risk it. Like I said, nipper wyrms feeding on humans is probably an incredibly rare thing, so I wouldn't worry too much about. That being said, don't think that is an invitation to write me and complain that I gave you false information if you wind up getting bit. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Who wants flying, cookie cutter shark-esque critters?! Who wouldn't love having the sky filled with the biting little buggers?! Isn't that fun?! Goodness, this fantasy world would probably actually be a nightmare to live in. I will also preemptively point out the fact that I called this creature a "wyrm" which some people may say is not a proper word for these creatures. In truth, I liked the sound of "Nipper wyrm" so I put it as that, as I thought wyrm was a word for more serpent like dragons or creatures, wings or no. Turns out that isn't really the case, and the classification in differences between dragons, wyverns, lindworms and what not is so muddled and baffling that I just kind of gave up on it. And to be fair, this universe already throws a lot of stuff out the window, I mean c'mon, the manticores are mollusks and the arctic dragon is a mammal, I think we can have some fun here. So it's called a wyrm!

#monster #creature #wyrm #flying #art #drawing

5 notes · View notes

shardclan · 7 years ago

Photo

Tràthail rose like the dragons did: Early. For most of them, it was because they slept out in the Court of Five Lights and had little protection from the light of the rising sun. Tràthail had a cozy nest of dried summerland grasses, furs, and fabric scraps in a snug attic above the dairy shop, so the light wasn't much of an issue for her. She rose at the crack of dawn full of wonder and excitement every day because that was the hour when Cheese came to drop off her spoils.

Tràthail was a harpy of simple pleasures, and nothing thrilled her more than wondering which kinds of milk she'd be working with that day.

No time to preen or groom; she grabbed whichever mask was nearest and fluttered down to the storage area. The room was chilled by donations of ice from Penitence, and every time the door opened, fog coated the floor. Cheese stood hulking in the doorway that could barely admit her, with no less than five different containers no doubt filled to the brim with milk. She smiled in her manic, boundlessly energetic way, and passed the harpy a heavy container that steamed gently. That would be Fiendcat milk, and it would spoil the other milks with its heat. Tràthail quickly carried it to the store front and sat it near the churning buckets. The milk was not terribly popular, but the cheese and butters made from it sold out in mere hours to dragons who favored a little heat in their food.

The rest of the pails Cheese shelved herself. Sometime later in the morning, Laleh would come to see the milks boiled properly. Cheese would watch like a hawk, but for now it was time for her dawn power nap, which she took on the roof.

Did Cheese ever truly sleep for more than one or two hours at a time? Did she have a real bed anywhere? This was a mystery to Tràthail.

While Cheese slept the grey hours away, the young harpy flew to the Hewn Canyon inlet. Where she had once been received with a certain amount of hesitance, the dragons now welcomed her openly to bathe with them. They seemed to stick to certain groups--families, co-workers, close friends, those with similar grooming issues--but Tràthail came and went like a butterfly. She waved to Gobi, who bathed alone; she tackled Bruma, who was rough in her retaliations, but never so much to ever really hurt her; she observed Carnelian, who had shed his beer-gut and cut his hair and was nicer to look at that ever.

Today she crept into the pool where Camellia was bathing with Heaven. She was very beautiful as dragons went, but Tràthail couldn't help intruding on them because Camellia was, until recently, in the same place as Dust. According to her, Dust was the coven's Second Witch now. Very powerful, and very important. And tall for a snapper, apparently.

It gave the harpy a fierce swell of pride, and she groomed herself extra well before darting back to the shop. Dust was doing her best, so she had to do her best as well.

Laleh had already arrived and Cheese was awake and aware as though she had never gone to sleep to begin with. The shop smelled of warm milk with a hint of flowers, and Tràthail's eyes lit up.

"Rosy peryton milk today?"

Cheese smiled widely, and grabbed two mugs. "I got a lot!"

"It's this rare and you drink it?" Laleh asked reproachfully.

"We always drink milk in the morning. Why would I skip a milk that is especially hard to get? That only makes it better." Cheese frowned, but perked right up and grabbed a third cup. "You want to share! It's fine, you can have some too!"

Tràthail grinned. She had come to understand dragons well enough to know that hadn't been Laleh's point. Cheese seemed to confuse dragons as much as Tràthail herself had when she was young. There was simply a whole other train of thought operating there. "We can all have small sips of the pure thing, I will make us a good sweet milk to start the morning from the rest."

Each got a spoon to have a single mouthful of the rosy peryton milk from. It was smooth, rich, subtly sweet, and a little grassy, not unlike drinking a heavily creamed rose tea.

Tràthail moved three healthy ladle-fulls into a small cauldron and poured in some of the mild milk gathered from rambras grazed in the Summerlands. She poured them equally into the waiting mugs, and mixed a dollop of strawberry preserves into each.

Cheese took hers and immediately went outside. It was tradition. Milk was best enjoyed under the open sky. Tràthail couldn't agree more. The three girls drank deeply, the milk sweet and rich and gently steaming, filling them with internal warmth just as the climbing sun warmed their skin.

Tràthail smiled contentedly into her cup, and looked forward to her day.

The shop would open in the afternoon. Until then, Cheese would check inventory (she wasn’t exactly a ‘gentle’ giant to begin with, but she could get downright mean if she suspected anyone was stealing her milk) and Tràthail would get the day's products lined up.

There was sure to be centaur milk. There was always centaur milk. The go-to when nothing else was available. Any over-stock often went to Cheese's sister, Pistachio, who would make it into ice cream. To Tràthail, ice cream was sort of like males. She understood the allure, but couldn't get personally excited about it. She preferred the belly-warmth of fresh, steaming milk and the wide range of textures and tastes she could get with cheese. Ah, cheese. Longneck milk was the next most common in the store, but it lent itself better to butters and rich creams and some of Tràthail's favorite cheese. She was still only an apprentice; she had a long way to go until she was as good at cheese as she was at butter, but it made her happy to think that she would be great at it someday.

In the mean time, she would churn half the rosy peryton milk into a smooth butter with a few crushed petals from a withered pink rose to enhance the floral flavor without too much plant-taste getting into the mix. Just like the remaining whole milk and the leftover buttermilk, it would be gone scarcely an hour after it was announced in stock. Traders took it for a high price, not only because it was rare, but because it was coveted by bakers for decadent cakes.

And, Tràthail thought with overflowing self-satisfaction, because I am a fantastic butterer.

She got Laleh to braid up her hair, swapped her hastily grabbed go-to cherub-marking mask for the fancy touch of her petal-marked one, and smiled wide into the little mirror in her roost.

It was going to be a good day.

#Flight Rising #Day in the life #C: Trathail #C: Cheese #Aphaster Stories

8 notes · View notes

anachef · 6 years ago

Text

Review: Boatwright’s Dining Hall at Port Orleans Riverside – Including NEW Menu Items!

Boatwright’s Dining Hall might just be one of Walt Disney World‘s best-kept dining secrets. Located within Port Orleans Riverside, it’s a great spot to seek out if you’re looking for a quiet table service dinner outside of the parks.

Boatwright’s Dining Hall

Boatwright’s has had a few menu updates since our last visit and most recent guest review (hello, All-You-Care-to-Enjoy Chef’s Platter!), so we were excited to get back to Port Orleans Riverside to check it out.

Atmosphere

If you weren’t looking for Boatwright’s Dining Hall, you might never know it’s there. This table service restaurant is open for dinner only and specializes in down-home, southern-style cuisine. It’s also one of the easier Walt Disney World restaurants to get into without a reservation or on short notice.

Outside at Port Orleans Resort — Riverside

Boatwright’s Dining Hall recently debuted the All-You-Care-to-Enjoy Chef’s Platter, and we were very much looking forward to the opportunity to try it out.

Boatwright’s All You Care to Enjoy Chef’s Platter

But first! This restaurant is themed after an old boat construction warehouse, so you can anticipate being greeted with warm lighting, a casual feel, and various boat-building tools and boat hulls as decor.

Boatwright’s Host Stand

Boatwright’s — There’s a Boat Hull “In Progress” Hanging from the Ceiling

The theme of a boat-building warehouse is carried through from the in-progress boat hull to the tools on the wall to the compass-like in-lay on the tables.

Boatwright’s Ship Building Tool Decor

Whether you’re here for a dinner for two or have your whole family with you, Boatwright’s can accommodate groups of any size. Plus, the kiddos in your group will probably love looking at all of the tools on the wall and listening as the parents make up the purpose of the tool!

Seating and decor

Cozy seating. Love the light fixtures!

Boatwright’s Seating

Alright, I think it’s time to place our order!

Boatwright’s

Starters

As we’ve mentioned once or twice before, there’s an addition to the menu here. You can now get an All-You-Care-To-Enjoy Chef’s Platter here in addition to other entrees.

Boatwrights Menu

Boatwright’s also offers a special “Best of the Bayou” Menu which is a four-course prix-fixe menu. This menu really does offer some of the best or most popular items on their full menu, so if you’re looking for this type of meal dive in!

Boatwright’s “Taste of the Bayou” Menu

A full bar, River Roost, is next door and Boatwright’s can offer a full range of cocktails, beers, non-alcoholic specialty drinks, as well as fountain drinks.

Boatwright’s Drinks Menu

Each meal at Boatwright’s Dining Hall starts with warm, sweet cornbread and fluffy whipped butter. This is still complementary, which is nice…so many restaurants now charge for the bread service.

Cornbread with Whipped Butter

If you’d like something more than cornbread, there are plenty of appetizers available!

The Andouille Sausage-Cheese Dip ($13) is served in a bread bowl and features Andouille sausage in a three cheese blend.

Andouille Sausage-Cheese Dip

This one is yummy, but the well in the bread for the cheese dip is small. So the cheese dip portion is on the stingy side. If your favorite part of this is eating the bread bowl afterwards, you’ll be fine. But if you’re looking for ample dip, this won’t suffice.

Still the flavors are excellent, and this isn’t too spicy if you have a less adventurous eater in your party.

Andouille Sausage-Cheese Dip

Continuing the cheese theme, the Mardi Gras Fritters ($9) are filled with house-made pimiento cheese and are served over pepper jelly. These were highly recommended to me by a friend and I can totally see why!

Mardi Gras Fritters

Our server told us that these are “what mozzarella cheese sticks want to be when they grow up,” and that’s basically the perfect description. They have a mozzarella cheese stick feel…just with bigger flavors.

Mardi Gras Fritters

Entrees

Entree time! Let’s start with the new on the menu All-You-Care-To-Enjoy Chef’s Platter. With this platter, you get bottomless ribs, Nashville hot chicken, smoked sausage, barbecued beef brisket, mashed potatoes, macaroni & cheese, street corn, and green beans for $33.

It reminds us a lot of the All-You-Care to Enjoy Skillet at Wilderness Lodge‘s Whispering Canyon Cafe. This All-You-Care-To-Enjoy Chef’s Platter at Boatwright’s is a great opportunity to try a variety of different dishes and sides that’ll please multiple palates.

All-You-Care-To-Enjoy Chef’s Platter

Unfortunately it’s not all “wow” material. The hot chicken had great flavor, but was tough and dry; and unfortunately the breading was almost sharp feeling and too crunchy. The brisket was fine, but not as flavorful as I’d like. The sausage was very good, and the ribs were very tender and acceptable flavor-wise. The mac and cheese was creamy, but bland. And the corn wasn’t akin to any elotes or street corn I’ve had before. It just didn’t come together.

So the skillet is an OK option if you want to try a lot of different things; but I’d probably stick with one of the better entrees like the prime rib or jambalaya, personally.

The Deep South Shrimp and Grits ($23) comes with creamy, Charleston-style grits, Andouille sausage, and sustainable shrimp, topped off with red-eye gravy.

The gravy here was truly delicious, and the grits and shrimp were quite good. The sausage gave some great flavor as well. If you’re a shrimp and grits fan, I’d recommend.

Deep South Shrimp and Grits

General Fulton’s Prime Rib ($35) is slow-roasted in Boatwright’s signature blend of chicory-coffee seasoning and served alongside mashed potatoes, seasonal vegetables, and horseradish cream. This was as good as it’s always been — not as good as the Prime Rib over at the new Snow White character meal at Artist Point, but still worth the price.

General Fulton’s Prime Rib

You can’t have a southern-style restaurant without Jambalaya. A New Orleans classic, Boatwright’s Jambalaya ($19), features spicy shrimp, chicken, and Andouille sausage over rice. A vegetarian version is available, too! This is one of my favorite dishes here historically, but, honestly, it might be better to grab it at Sassagoula Float Works over at Port Orleans French Quarter — I think it’s a little better there (and cheaper).

Boatwright’s Jambalaya

Desserts

You can’t have dinner at Walt Disney World without having dessert, right!? We ordered four on our visit and they were ALL delicious — seriously the highlight of the meal! The major bummer for desserts here, though, was that instead of buttercream frosting, the restaurant used whipped panna cotta as an accent texture. I really missed that sweet-salty flavor and heavier texture of the buttercream frosting here.

Boatwrights Dessert Menu

Boatwright’s After-Dinner Drinks Menu

First up was this Red Velvet Cheesecake ($8). The red velvet was clearing an accent here as there wasn’t much of it; but there didn’t need to be. The cheesecake was excellent on its own, though my dining companion and I both thought that this could be a no-added-sugar dessert considering how little sweetness there was to it.

Red Velvet Cheesecake

According to the menu, there’s bourbon-vanilla cream involved, but that’s not really a flavor we tasted a lot of.

Red Velvet Cheesecake

The Joie de Vivre Peanut Butter Mousse Cake ($8) comes with peanut brittle and triple berry sauce. I expected this one to be a typical blah-bland “candy bar” dessert as I’ve seen in so many Disney restaurants lately. But I was SUPER surprised! The peanut butter layer was almost like a light cookie dough, and the flavors were SO GOOD. I can definitely recommend this one! The bottom layer, by the way, is a super dense brownie.

Joie de Vivre Peanut Butter Mousse Cake

How about some St. Louis Gooey Butter Cake ($8)? I LOVE LOVE LOVE butter cake, and always order it when it’s on a menu. This one was wonderful — if a little too sweet (I know, how is that possible!?). This version is topped with bourbon sauce and toffee brittle.

St. Louis Gooey Butter Cake

Don’t worry, we didn’t forget the chocolate! Spiced chocolate sauce and whipped vanilla panna cotta have come together to make this Mississippi Mud Pie ($7). Even though I’m not a huge fan of the all-chocolate-all-the-time desserts, this one was actually very, very good.

Mississippi Mud Pie

If you’re looking for southern comfort food in a casual, comfortable atmosphere, give Boatwright’s Dining Hall a try! It’s tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the theme parks and the resort quick service locations, and you won’t have to stress yourself out trying to get a reservation. From meat-heavy dishes to vegetarian options, there’s something for everyone in your travel party!

I know a lot of my readers and viewers don’t LOVE this one, but honestly I’m pretty pleased with it each time I go.

Don’t Miss Out on Any Disney Fun!

The 2019 DFB Guide to Walt Disney World Dining, is now available for Pre-Order!

With more than 750 pages, the 2019 DFB Guide to Walt Disney World Dining is full of tips and planning tools developed by Disney World experts over 20+ years of visits. We’ve done the research for you, so you’ll know just which spots will uniquely suit your family’s needs!

With mini-reviews of every single restaurant, bar, lounge, kiosk and more; an entire chapter on the best snacks in Disney World; full Disney Dining Plan analysis (and how to get FREE dining); and a full chapter on discounts and deals; you’ll have everything you need to plan your best vacation yet. Click here to pre-order your copy of the 2019 DFB Guide to Walt Disney World Dining E-book with code WDW2019 to save 25% today!

But there’s MORE! Just like all DFB pre-order deals — when you pre-order your DFB Guide to Walt Disney World Dining, 2019 Edition today for 25% off the cover price, you’ll also get our fully updated 2018 Edition for FREE immediately, so you can start planning TODAY!

Use code WDW2019 at check-out for a 25% off the cover price, AND get the 2018 edition for free!

Our guides are backed by a 100% money-back guarantee, so you have nothing to lose.

Have you been to Boatwright’s Dining Hall lately? Leave a comment and tell us all about your favorite menu items!

Guest Review: Boatwright’s Dining Hall at Disney’s Port Orleans Riverside Resort

DFB Video: Eat This at Disney’s Port Orleans Resort!

21 Myths About Walt Disney World Food DEBUNKED

from the disney food blog http://bit.ly/2ESPbNb via http://bit.ly/LNvO3e

0 notes

josephkitchen0 · 6 years ago

Text

Guinea Fowl Care: Housing and Winter Survival

By Jeannette Ferguson, Guinea Fowl Breeders Association (GFBA) President Photographs by members of the GFBA

Guinea fowl that are trained to roost inside a shelter at night will outlive those that roost in trees. Guinea fowl have been reported to have lived to be 17 years or older, but unfortunately, more lose their lives to predators than to old age. In the winter, guinea fowl care is important to shield your flock from dangerous temperatures and hungry predators. Guineas are unable to see in the dark and are easy pickings as a nighttime snack for predators on the prowl. Being high up in a tree is no safer than being broody on an outdoor nest. Hawks, owls, and raccoons are common everywhere and once they find an easy meal, you can bet they will return nightly until their food source is gone.

Getting guinea fowl to come down from trees in the winter can be a real challenge. Roosting in trees overnight can be fatal. Photo by Laura Corstange, Michigan.

If you live in an area where winter temperatures drop below freezing, guinea fowl can get frostbite and lose toes, or worse. Sure, some may manage to survive in the worst conditions and the most frigid of nights, but that does not mean that the birds were comfortable, that they were not stressed, and that they should be left outdoors to fend for themselves. Flock owners should be responsible and provide proper guinea fowl care via housing (just as they do for their dogs, barn cats, and other farm animals.) Guineas are capable of being trained and should be trained to roost inside.

Got Ticks? Get Guineas!

Learn how to raise guineas in this FREE Special Report, Keeping Guinea Fowl: Everything You Need to Know, from How to Raise Guineas to Facts about the Guinea Bird and Where to Buy Guinea Fowl. YES! I want this Free Report »

Courtesy of GFBA Photographer Angela Keeney, California.

Guinea Fowl Care: Housing

When it comes to guinea fowl care, housing need not be elaborate. Housing can be anything from an old outhouse for a few guineas or a shed to a corner of the barn or garage or a converted trailer. What is important is that housing provides a place for guineas to roost in that is dry, draft-free and predator proof. Ventilation, roosting bars, adequate space for the number of birds kept and the type bedding used as well as keeping unfrozen water and feed available 24/7 are important factors to keeping your flock healthy and safe while confined.

While a guinea house may seem huge for the beginner with guinea keets kept in a small brooder or holding pen inside the adult guinea house, they grow up really fast and as adults need three to four sq. ft. of space per bird. Keep in mind that guineas in colder areas of the U.S. and abroad may very well need to be confined to the inside of their shelter for weeks at a time during the coldest days of winter, especially during ice storms, deep snows, and blizzards. Guinea fowl care tip: To prevent stress and pecking from boredom and to provide comfort for the birds enclosed, four sq. ft. per bird is best. When calculating space per bird, do take into consideration any space provided by nesting boxes, roosting bars, and shelving. A shelter such as a shed instead of a barn with a high roof will also hold in some body heat and the interior of the building will be much more comfortable than the frigid temperatures outdoors.

Roosting bars should be provided for guinea fowl. Guineas fluff their feathers to allow air in to help cool their bodies during the summer and to allow the warm air from their body heat to warm their legs and feet during the winter. If a guinea is forced to sleep on the cold ground or on litter, it cannot fluff up the feathers to cover the feet that can actually freeze in temperatures of 10F or less. Guineas roosting in trees are also subjected to strong winds that can ruffle their feathers, allowing body heat to escape rather than to keep them warm and cozy. Small tree branches, 2×4’s on edge or cut in half make good roosting bars. While it is not necessary to put up nesting boxes for guineas, when stuffed with loose straw to provide a wild-like hiding place, a guinea hen will often use or share a nesting box to lay eggs (during laying season) or to bed down overnight on a cold winter night.

Ventilation helps to allow moisture as well as fumes from ammonia and odors to escape through vents in the eaves or through exhaust fans installed in the roof or by windows that can be opened slightly—taking care that the air exchange does not create drafts in the roosting area. All openings should be covered securely with quarter inch welded wire fencing to keep rats, mice, mink, snakes and other small predators out. Double wood walls (without insulation) will help hold in some heat. Insulating an unheated building can actually hold moisture in. Dampness can cause respiratory problems and increase the risk of disease. Parasites can multiply rapidly in damp bedding. Remove any bedding that gets wet from water spills and keep the bedding as dry as possible.

While straw tends to hold in moisture and takes much longer to dry out, a bag or two of compressed wood shavings for animal bedding is really nice to use and clean up is a breeze. Loose bedding is not as likely to grow mold and mildew. Droppings from guinea fowl are much drier than those from chickens and ventilation is not as great a problem when guineas are housed alone.

Electricity inside the shelter makes life easier on both the owner and the flock. Being able to provide a 5-watt nightlight to help guineas see at night and a brighter light so we can see at night or to see to clean the coop or for our flock when confined on darker, gloomy winter days is one thing, but to be able to provide a water base heater that will keep their water from freezing in the winter is a real blessing. For the owner, this means fewer trips hauling water, no time spent breaking ice, and a continuous supply of water for our flock. Drinking water is actually more important than food. Guineas can survive longer without food than they can without water. Even ice cold water actually helps to maintain the body temperature in our guinea fowl during winter. Please do not assume the birds can eat snow in place of drinking water. It takes a lot of snow eating to be equivalent to drinking water.

Although the common helmeted guinea fowl originate from Africa, they are pretty tough birds and do not require a heated coop. Some owners do prefer to give their birds the option of getting under a heat lamp when temperatures drop to the single digits. If you choose to do the same, make absolutely certain that the light is securely fastened high off the bedding material and that both the light bulb and your guineas are protected by a shield. f the guinea house is large enough, it can be partitioned with a room for food storage and a brooder and with storage areas for bedding and hay or straw. The storage area can come in handy should the size of your flock increase and additional housing space be Yes, guinea fowl do like to get out for some exercise and fresh air even in the winter. On a snowy, but calm day when there are no weather warnings or hazardous conditions, let them out! Prepare to help first-timers back into the henhouse at night. Some may freak out at their first snow, but as you can see in the pictures, they will get used to it, walk on it, and enjoy finding many seeds and such along fence rows and on the undersides of grasses that protrude through the snow. An attached poultry yard can be covered in the winter and an occasional flake from a bale of alfalfa hay will provide needed. some greens and tiny insects to peck at while outdoors getting some fresh air and sunshine.

On range by day in the midst of winter, guineas are able to find a few weed seeds and bugs on the undersides of brush and leaves that protrude through the snow while getting out for some fresh air and exercise. Above photo by Pam Davis, New Mexico.

Guinea fowl get confused by the snow, having learned that the sky is bright and the ground is dark. Until they learn about snow, they will sometimes take to the trees and not come down until they are hungry or thirsty. To encourage guineas to return to their coop or to come down from a tree, it helps to cover the ground with straw or to shovel paths in the snow.

For details about training and raising guinea fowl from egg through adult, you can get your own copy of the book “Gardening with Guineas: A Step by Step Guide to Raising Guinea Fowl on a Small Scale.” For details about the Guinea Fowl Breeders Association, please visit the GFBA website.

Originally published in Backyard Poultry October / November 2007 and regularly vetted for accuracy.

Guinea Fowl Care: Housing and Winter Survival was originally posted by All About Chickens

0 notes