#Shout out my amphibians!

[thornheartfelt]

Save me f/os, save me (<- has an animal welfare and ethics exam that is 3 hours long tomorrow)

[chillinglyadventurous]

Fiddleford Knows

When I read this request, my jaw DROPPED! I immediately stopped doing what I was doing and wrote this. How could I not? It’s the perfect request???

Tags: Absolute Fluff and pining!

“Hey, Specs!” You shouted as you burst into Fiddleford and Stanford’s dorm room. “You’ll never guess who just got called into the dean’s office after Honor’s Geometry.”

You plopped yourself onto Fidds’ bed as you always did when you burst in to tell him something. He was sitting at his desk with a book in hand. You glanced at the bed to your left, finding his roommate laying there with a textbook in his hands too. You gave Ford a shy smile before returning your attention back to Fiddleford.

Your friend barely looked up from his book, noticing the blush on your cheeks when Ford smiled back at you, “How do you know everything about everyone all the time, [Y/N]? This is a big school.”

“I’m observant,” you countered. You propped yourself up on your elbows, “Emma May Dixon, the dean pulled her out this morning. Apparently, someone caught her sneaking into this very building after hours.” You waggled your eyebrows at him.”I just hope whoever she was coming to see has a strong alibi. Like, I don’t know, a super cool roommate named Stanford, perhaps.” You stretched your arms above you head, “Anyways, I just thought I’d let my best friend know.” You stood up, giving the boys a wink, “Well, gentlemen, I’ll see you tomorrow morning at breakfast. I better get back to the ladies’ dorm before I get caught like Emma May. Goodnight!”

Ford rested his textbook on his chest and folded his hands behind his head, “You’ve noticed she has a really pretty accent, right? It’s not just me?”

Fiddleford looked up at his roommate. “That’s all you have to say about that conversation?” He set his own book down on his desk, “Nothing to say about me sneakin’ Emma May in here?”

“When did you sneak her in here?” Ford sat up straight. He wasn’t even a heavy sleeper.

The next morning, you found the boys sitting at a table in the dining hall. Fiddleford was having eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns. Stanford was eating a simple bowl of cereal. You scooted in next to Fiddleford with your hands clasped together. A bright grin was covering your face as you sat in front of Ford. 

“Stanford, I have a surprise for you!” He choked on his milk when you looked at him, a blush crept up his neck, through his face, and to his ears. You didn’t notice. You thought he was always red in the face. “I found it on my way here,” you opened your hands to reveal a two-headed toad. You ran a finger down its back as you met Ford’s eyes, “Isn’t he cute? He’s a little weird, just like you, but absolutely adorable.” A snicker from beside you wiped the smile off your face. You blushed then. “I mean,” you stammered, “it’s cute. You’re not cute. Well- I mean, you’re not not cute. This guy, though-  I mean, just look at him.”

A hand clamped over your mouth, your eyes wide. “Stop talking, dummy,” Fidds whispered into your ear.  “She’s had too much coffee, Ford, don’t you think?”

“Decaf is better for you,” Ford mumbled through a mouth full of cereal. A few o’s slipped from his mouth and back into his milk.

You giggled as you watched the man you’ve had a crush on for weeks wipe his chin in embarrassment, but Fiddleford’s elbow planted itself deep into your ribs, “Uh, well, boys, I better get going. I don’t want to be late for World Lit.” You placed the toad into Ford’s open hands, “I’ve named him Hopper. Not very original, I know, but I just found him a few minutes ago. Not much time to think of something clever. I’ll be by later tonight to check on him.”

Ford watched you walk away hoping you’d look at him before you disappeared. You did, “Did you see those blue earrings [Y/N] was wearing? They really brought out the color of her eyes.”

“What did she name the toad, Stanford?”

Ford’s eyebrows furrowed, looking down at the amphibian in his hands, “I’m pretty sure she said Four-Eyes. She’s very clever like that.” Fiddleford looked at him with utter disbelief in his eyes, “You see, it’s funny because I wear glasses. A common nickname for people who wear glasses is Four-Eyes. This toad has two heads and, therefore, four eyes.”

“She named the toad hopper,” Fiddleford chuckled with a roll of his eyes. He watched as Ford pet the toad lovingly on its back as if it were the greatest gift he had ever received. “Why don’t we go to the pet store after breakfast and get that little guy a proper enclosure? You can show it to [Y/N] tonight.”

Once midterms rolled around, you saw less of Fidds and Ford. You’d been busy studying and so had they. Even your weekly DD&MD campaigns had gotten lost in the shuffle, the panic of studying nonstop. When you did see them, it was often in the library. You would sit with them, your face blushing everytime you and Ford made eye contact. Unbeknownst to you, Fiddleford was rolling his eyes, completely distracted by the two of you. Neither you nor Ford could sit still around the other, often causing him to move tables. If he was going to pass any of his exams, he needed quiet.

“Fiddleford, we need to talk,” you whined as you burst into his dorm again. 

You quickly glanced around the room to make sure Ford wasn’t there. Luckily, all you saw was Fidd’s and a mountain of reference material. Normally, anything you needed to say to your childhood best friend could be said in front of his roommate. It wasn’t like you were shy. You were very open, very out going, and you didn’t care what people though. Right now, though your words were for Fiddleford’s ears and Fiddleford’s only.

“What’s wrong, [Y/N]? Are you alright?” Fidds looked concerned. Your red eyes and sad face were enough to make him worry, “What happened?”

You gave a pathetic whine again, laying onto Ford’s bed. Often you had chosen Fiddleford’s, but you required this one for what you were about to admit, “I think I’m in love with Stanford.” You held up your hand when Fidds glanced toward the stack of books in front of him. “Please don’t interrupt me. I need to get this out before I explode.” You rolled onto your stomach, your voice muffled by Ford’s pillow. Why did it smell so good? You picked the wrong bed, “He’s just so handsome. He’s so smart. Ugh-” You rolled onto your back again. You didn’t care that your long skirt was getting twisted around your legs or that your hair was about to tangle. Who cared about your appearance in that moment? It wasn’t like Ford was in the room, “And he’s so cute, you know? I just want to kiss him all over!”

You spread yourself out on his bed and looked up at your friend. “Quit looking so smug! It’s not funny!” You let out a fake sob, “And have you seen his hands? They’re so weird, like him, but it makes him so unique and beautiful.” You let out a frustrated groan, “It would be so nice to hold his hand, wouldn’t it? My hand would just feel so secure in his.” You flipped over onto your stomach, unsure of how to make yourself comfortable when you’re spilling your guts like this. Your head was propped up in your hands, “Fiddleford, you have to tell me what to do! Please?”

When Fiddleford sat back in his chair, legs crossed and his hands behind his head, you sat up, “What’re you looking so smug for? You knew for a while I liked him. It’s not like you’re learning something new here.”

Fidds chuckled, his head motioning towards the stack of books, “Hey, Stanford, what do you think she should do?”

Your breath hitched in your throat when Ford came out from behind that mountain of books. His face was beet red and his hand nervously scratched the back of his neck. A flood of emotions flowed through you. At first, you slammed your fist on Ford’s bed because you were angry Fiddleford didn’t warn you. Next, you were embarrassed because those words never would have left your lips had you know the subject of your rant was sitting right there! Third, you were sad, afraid of rejection. Finally, however, you stood from Ford’s best. You fidgeted uncomfortably in the middle of their dorm before bolting toward the door.

Fiddleford chuckled, “Go get your Princess Unatainabelle, Ford. The damsel is in distress.”

Ford hesitated for a moment before he was on his feet. He ran after you through the door you left open, too much in a hurry to close it behind you. You heard him calling after you, but you wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t  You didn’t want to hear him say he just saw you as a friend. 

He caught you by the shoulders. Looking into your eyes, you panicked, mouth moving a mile a minute, “Stanford, I’m sorry. I hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship. You’re a great guy and i just really like you. It’s stupid, i know, but I thought we got along and you don’t have a girlfriend, so-”

Your rambling was cut short. A six fingered hand covered your mouth to stop you. He needed you to stop talking, “You’re the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, [Y/N].”

[cthulhus-curse]

Deer In Headlights

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 8,024

Warnings: Deer!Hybrid!Wanda Maximoff, Angst, Fluff, Hybrids, Mentions of Sexual Assault/Exploitation, Smut | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: After Wanda escapes her living nightmare, it is up to you to pick up the pieces and save her from the deep abyss of the horrors she endured.

A/N: The prodigal daughter, my favorite variant I've written, bambi Wanda, returns...

Staring down at the murky, wet dirt, green eyes frowned. Goosebumps arose across the creamy skin which longed for any minimal sense of warmth. Underneath the immense showers that came down from the dark, angry clouds, a freezing cold overtook her body. Bare feet dug deep into the messy ground until they turned blue. Shivering, she knew she was in danger of being taken hostage by hypothermia.

Regardless of her predicament, it was better than the one she was previously in. No longer did she need to have orders shouted out in her direction spewed with a venom that tore at her heartstrings. Freedom was all she had ever longed for. Now that she had a slight taste of it, even if close to losing it, Wanda wouldn’t dare go back.

She was rendered weak against the freezing cold that surrounded her, and yet Wanda never stopped moving. Her shivering legs took her as far as she could with her arms wrapped strongly around her slim frame that was in desperate need for anything within her empty stomach. Cheeks were hollowed out with an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes never dying out. Her tail was drenched by the angry rain alongside her antlers and lengthy ears that trembled out of pain. With each drop of water that hit her face and came down to trace the pattern of her freckles, she sighed – the fog that appeared before the frail hybrid mocked her every step motivating her to stop.

There were no prying eyes to find her passed out on the ground only minutes later. Flushed, scraped knees hit the ground before her face fell against her. A limp body lay in place being drowned out by the copious amounts of water falling from the sky. She wanted to scream, to run away and long to be saved, but all that came was nothingness.

Hours passed by without a sign of change. The forest took her in, animals passing by eyeing her in question before waltzing off at other signs of life. She was one with nature, a daughter of the matriarch who gave life to all which surrounded her.

In the arms of Mother Nature, Wanda would forever be safe and sound.

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Stumbling upon such a feat had never been your goal. Your boots fought against the mud you passed through, eyes drifting from side to side as you took in the mix of the flora and fauna. The lens of your camera was stricken by water drops, but you kept pointing it towards various greens that surrounded you. Snapping each picture made you smile.

Walking across the empty forest made you feel at peace. You had taken up photography in college and followed it along as your adulthood progressed. Working for the nearby hybrid sanctuary, a freelance photographer on the side as a means to garner extra cash, you were to explore each being’s habitat to further your knowledge of them. You were met by numerous hybrids of the forest – bears, amphibians, and even birds – but never were you welcomed by a member of the Cervidae family.

You never meant to find her, but instead you fell for her – because of her at that. With your mind in the clouds you never noticed a body sprawled over the ground, one that you tripped over until you fell harshly over it. Frowning, you attempted to push it off, to snarl with fury. But as soon as you turned it around and were met by the face of her culprit, your features softened.

A beauty such as that which Wanda carried was not one you’d easily come across. Although the doe’s features were pale, lips blue alongside her fingernails, you knew were to be the perfect specimen. You could stare at the wondrous creature for the rest of time, but noting her condition, you knew to quickly get to work.

Her body was thrown over your shoulder without missing a beat. You ran towards the entrance of the forest that you knew like the back of your hand, exasperating as you feared the worst possible outcome for the creature you longed to save. While her condition was nothing if not appaling, her chest heaved up and down with weak breaths that you hoped would remain for long enough.

That was the day your life changed for the better. You were lonely, not that you’d ever admit it. Your focus was entirely on others, on protecting hybrids that were easily hunted down for the sole purpose of the societal status they carried, seemingly lesser than humans – the thought in itself made the furious bile rise up your throat.

Plopping her down beside you within the confines of your car, you huffed. Your hand held her own frosty one through the entire trip, not caring about how her temperature struck down yours. The heating was turned up to the maximum and although you sweat underneath the numerous layers you wore in the midst of the freezing winter, you didn’t mind. It was all in the name of helping bring the color back to her features.

Squeezing the unconscious woman’s hand, you hummed. It was your life’s duty to care for those who were hunted and taken away to be sold off to the highest bidder. A hybrid was rare in itself, but owning one was as though you held a grail.

“I won’t ever do that to you,” you mumbled underneath your breath. Turning to the unconscious brunette, you interlaced your fingers with her rigid ones. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you, okay?” You noted the scratches over her torn clothes that carried fresh blood, some washed away by the rain. They hurt her, they maimed her. “Never again.”

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The first time weak orbs flickered open in days, the light which shone down upon them was blinding, forcing Wanda to instantly close them. She shook her head, her body torn and debilitated by the forces of the unknown. While it ached, it was nothing compared to the horrors she once experienced.

Minutes passed before she was able to properly support herself by her arms that fell each time she attempted to move. Chapped lips parted to allow her tongue to escape, wetting them with a hiss from the brokenness and dried blood they carried. The last thing she remembered was the faint, calm noise that came from what she deemed as her prompt demise – perhaps it was the afterlife which finally treated Wanda with kindness.

“Hey, you’re awake!”

At the sound of the voice that reeked with a thrill, Wanda jumped in alert. She turned to its source, squirming away until she found herself at the edge of the bed. Reaching out for whatever she could find to defend herself, Wanda came up empty with nothing but a pillow to shield her body from the shadow that waltzed her way.

“Who are you?” She exasperated, words practically choked out of fear. “Where am I?”

You expected the fear and the confusion from her, but never did you know you could feel a twinge of exhilaration at the sound of her voice. “I, uh, brought you home with me. You were in the forest – alone and hurt. I just thought it would be best to give you a roof over your head. You didn’t really seem to be enjoying yourself passed out in the rain.”

“I wasn’t,” she mumbled sadly. You could sense her apprehension from the lack of eye-contact and the stiffness in her body. “I can’t remember much.”

Quick movements were advised against. Instead, you took your time sitting before her, far away so her comfort was intact. “Do you know what your name is? Can you remember that at least?”

“Wanda,” she was quick to reply. “My name is Wanda.”

Smiling, you were proud at the miniscule progress. “Good job, dear.”

The hesitance the brunette felt was not easily shed. She refused to speak more than give words at once your way, instead opting to remain in a quiet solitude as she inspected you. Her body was left mostly covered by the blankets, but she knew what lay beneath. With each slight movement, she groaned in an unmistakable bout of suffering. The gashes she received were ones she could remember visibly. All she hoped was to never go back to it, to him .

With the more questions you asked, Wanda progressively grew disinterested. She faced away from you, never allowing herself to stare your way as an atmosphere of distrust fueled her. No matter how much she tried to put on a brave face, you didn’t feel any discomfort being in her vicinity. If anything you couldn’t stop staring at the life that had overtaken her previously dead features.

“I, uhm…I’m Y/N by the way,” you said, shrugging as you faced away from the hybrid. “It’s really nice to meet you, Wanda.”

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Taking a turn for the better, the first few days of your new life with Wanda were interesting to say the least. You weren’t used to having much company around let alone for a handful of work friends every so often. Although her silence is what primarily ran rampant across the dimly-lit halls of the house, her presence is what made you feel at peace for once.

You barely exchanged any words with Wanda let alone for the daily ‘how are you holding up?’ question that came about whenever you changed her bandages. She wouldn’t easily trust you, and in all fairness the last thing you’d ever do was force her to do so. Albeit wordless, you knew her past was nothing but a chest full of terror. With her refusal to open it, you stood back and awaited for the woman to, if ever, grant you access.

After yet another day of tending to her slowly healing wounds, you wondered the same. “How are you holding up today, dear?”

“Better,” Wanda mustered out. “It’s hurting less.”

Staring down at the multitude of bandages around her body, you frowned. “Which ones are hurting less?”

“Well, I can move my arms a bit better. Last night I showered without the brush. It was nice.” Although seemingly small, you couldn’t help but feel proud of her, much like when the other hybrids at the sanctuary made progress for the better. “And my back feels great.”

The mention of that made you freeze. While Wanda had not been witness to it at first, it had been up to you to see the mess that had been formed upon her skin. Her entire back was red, ligature marks from bindings even mirrored over her arms alongside lacerations that were furiously scarlet and bloody. You refused to show her. Even the slightest look at her maimed, abused body would cause her even more dread than when she first woke up.

“I’m really glad,” you sincerely replied. “You’re doing really well, Wanda. Just a few more days and you should be good to go.”

Looking down at the way you calmly cleaned her wounds, Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. “Thank you for this. You didn’t have to save me, much less bring me into your home. I can’t really imagine I’ve been the best guest so…maybe I can pay you back by-”

“Hey, I won’t have any of that.” Truth be told, the last thing Wanda was required to do was apologize, much less to you. “All that matters to me is that you’re safe.”

“But why?”

“Why not?” You shot back. “I wasn’t going to let you die there, Wanda. You were hurt and clearly in need of help. Do you really think anyone would leave you there?”

Wanda didn’t need to give you a spoken answer as her silence said enough. Many would leave her like that, perhaps even mock the situation she found herself in until they tired themselves out. To a large number of humans, she was nothing but an experiment from nature gone wrong – a mistake from what you’d heard others say.

The lack of words called for a warm, comfortable moment between the two of you as you finished healing her. Your hands drifted all through her body until every inch had been paid attention to. Even the smallest wound was to be taken care of as a means to better protect the hybrid.

“I was in a really bad place,” Wanda suddenly blurted out. She didn’t want to scare you away, especially not seeing how you were the one person who had even the most minimal amount of humanity towards her. “I…I was taken as a kid. I mean, I was sixteen but…” ‘ But it didn’t matter’ went unspoken. “I don’t remember much outside of the farm. They wanted more of us – more hybrids – by any means necessary. Whenever I refused they just did it to me anyway until I gave them twins.” Her voice broke, but so did your heart. “I’m nothing but a meaningless animal to your people.”

With a somber appearance you halted your movements. Surely you were no stranger to the stories other hybrids spoke to you of, but never did it get easier to lend a listening ear. Each and every memory she held was carried through her choked voice. While not something you could share with her, not like the other hybrids in their relatedness, all you could think of was how far you’d have to go to make whoever hurt her pay.

“And your antlers?” You knew experiments on such wondrous creatures were explored in the shadows much to your disgust. Merely humoring that idea when it came to Wanda, to any hybrid you had the pleasure of meeting, made your blood boil. “I’ve never seen a doe like you. Not that it’s wrong. I mean, you’re beautiful…”

Wanda shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes were downcast with red shame overtaking her cheeks as she shrugged. “They called me a freak. I’m not really supposed to have them. Sometimes I think they’re right. Maybe I am a freak.”

“Because of your antlers?” When she nodded, you felt a pang of pain shooting through your heart. “But they’re amazing. I…may I?” You hesitantly reached out slow enough so that Wanda could sense your movements. No words were uttered your way, but from the lack of protest, you knew to go forth. “Seriously I’ve never met a doe, let alone one that looks as pretty as you. Your antlers are really something else.” Tracing the line from their base to their tip, you giggled. “Even I’m jealous. They don’t make you a freak, Wanda. They make you who you are. Being different from others isn’t ever bad. Some people are just too dumb to see the beauty in unique things, but not me.”

From then on you were more than kind to her, at times even going as far as to absentmindedly treat her as though she was a porcelain doll. Wanda smiled at you that day. Even if it was a simple tired beam, you were happy enough that she could do so for the first time in weeks. It was a change — a good one.

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“What’s a Bambi?”

The question was one you expected at some point with her return to society. There was much Wanda didn’t know, an arguably adorable fact that led her to tilt her head with confusion when she first saw your television and phone. Even before her time at the farm, her wilderness was her loving home – one without an ounce of the technology you had.

Finishing her midday snack, you chuckled. Although posing the question, Wanda was more focused on the way you prepared the mixture of fruits for her – bananas and strawberries, some mangos even with a hint of whipped cream being her favorite. Sitting at the kitchen island waiting patiently, her green eyes lit up as soon as you slid the plate her way.

“Bambi is a deer just like you. Well, he’s not actually real, but he’s really cute.” ‘Like you’ , you longed to say. “He, uh, has his own movies and everything. I can show you if you’d like.”

“Yes please!” Wanda exasperated, her mouth full of the delicious fruits she adored having. “Can we watch the movies?”

You thought of it for a moment, prolonging your answer to further leave Wanda at the edge of her seat. She patiently awaited for what you decided, licking whipped cream off her lips as her ears squirmed with excitement. There wasn’t much she wished from this strange world she had never been a part of, but entertainment, seeing herself on screen, meant the world.

“Sure, Wanda. We can watch them this Friday after I get out of work. Does that sound good?” When Wanda nodded happily, you knew she was pleased with the loving answer. “Now finish up your food. I have to make sure you can stay home by yourself and survive while I go into work. Apparently there’s a new arrival – a dog hybrid by the name of Natasha.”

“Do you really have to go?” Wanda had become accustomed to having you around so much so that it was her who had a resemblance with that of a dog who loyally followed you across your property. She feared being alone, and then again, you wouldn’t dare let her out of your sight. “I’ll miss you, that’s all. And what if something happens?”

“Nothing’s going to happen, dear. I promise,” you reassured her. “Actually, I have something for you. I thought you’d feel safer if you have your own phone. That way if you ever get scared during the day, you can call or text me.”

During her meal you brought the fresh box to Wanda. Opening it, you explained to her all the aspects that came with a phone, promising to help her set it up whenever you returned. You’d only be gone for a handful of hours, knowing that at the very least she’d be safe for long enough to keep your fears calm.

“So, am I Bambi?” Wanda questioned suddenly, staring down with confusion stricken over her features at the phone.

Smiling fondly, you were unable to hold back your joy at her beauty. “Yes, Wanda. You’re exactly like Bambi.” Bambi. Finish up now, you know I have to leave soon, honey.”

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Although you presumed it to be done solely for her safety, giving Wanda a phone resulted in being much more entertaining than you forethought. You never expected her to understand the confusing nature of the device, much less be able to aptly use it within a matter of days, but the copious amounts of messages she sent your way within the timespan begged to disagree.

At first it was only written words. Wanda found the sound the phone made when she typed to be quite humorous, which led her to use it as an excuse to continuously send messages your way. She wondered how you were doing, also making sure work was going well and listening in whenever you explained what you were up to. Very quickly she progressed to reminding you to eat your lunch, knowing that each day you’d bring back a bag still filled with the meal she had taken time to prepare for you. Being busy was your excuse, but it was not good enough for Wanda who longed to upkeep your well-being even in the most minimal ways possible.

Then came the voice messages. Those were rather…random to say the least, but you adored and saved them nonetheless. Wanda first began sending them accidentally as she pressed around buttons to send emoticons and her voice. In each of them she was surprised after long minutes of recording that she was sending you something. Even if it was through the phone, you could practically hear the way her cheeks turned a mad tint of pink.

The pictures alongside videos were by far your favorite. Much like the voice messages, Wanda didn’t mean to send them at first. She was in awe of the technology in her bare hands, one she never had back home. Most images were of her curiously eyeing the camera up close before snapping a picture you’d receive seconds later. Each and every one of them made you beam even during the hardest of days at the sanctuary. Without meaning to, Wanda was the light at the end of the darkest moments.

Wanda took to taking formal pictures from then on. She’d ask for your camera from time to time, but knew herself to be far too much of a beginner to use all the proper lenses and artifacts for it. So instead she took up using her phone – its protective case which she spent hours upon hours bedazzling until it was a mess of glitter that she was proud of.

“Sitting back and watching Bambi again!” she texted you during a rather chilly day in the depths of the winter before an image came which melted your heart. Wanda was seemingly sprawled over the couch wearing a warm, fuzzy dinosaur poncho you had gotten her. In her arms lay a reindeer stuffed animal, Rudolph to be more precise. It was a new friend you gave her, that way she wouldn’t be so alone as she waltzed through the house finding new activities to carry out.

“I hope you two are having fun!” You replied, hesitating slightly before sending off the following words. “Give Rudolph a kiss from me.”

Only seconds passed before your heart skipped a beat, knowing instantly that it began opening itself up for Wanda. You saw her in yet another picture, this time her lips pressed against the squishy plush that she nuzzled her freckled face against. Her ears stood proudly much like her antlers, only they carried a piercing Wanda had begged you to let her get, even if you held no autonomy over her being; regardless, your opinion was one she desperately valued.

“He misses you,” Wanda told you through the phone, anxiously typing away as her focus was on you rather than the movie. She nibbled on her bottom lip, pointy ears drifting down as she stared at the lit-up screen. “I miss you too.”

From then on, the day felt eternal. You longed to be back home, to be surrounded by the joy that exuded from Wanda whenever she noted your arrival. As rewarding as it was to tend to the rest of the hybrids, to nurture them back to health and bring them a safe environment to coexist, it was Wanda who had taken up your life and made it about her, something that you didn’t mind too much.

Not even seconds passed after having opened the front door of the house covered by the darkness of the sky when Wanda was on you. She had hugged you before, but it was always filled with hesitation and fear of getting too close. Instead for once she held you close, her face dancing against your chest as her antlers poked your chin.

Sighing calmly, Wanda relaxed into the embrace that you gladly returned. The two of you didn’t care much about the time that passed, instead entirely focused on being with one another no matter what. Although quiet, it was an atmosphere perfect to share with the hybrid who after minutes looked up with wide, wondering eyes.

“I missed you,” you quoted her words from earlier that day, a sentiment you too shared. Seeing her features take life was a sight you’d forever take in. Your hand absentmindedly went to her cheek, cupping its blushing being before your thumb tenderly drew itself up and down. Only inches apart, breaths heavy and shallow with a growing need for love, your lips were knowingly destined to crash together. And yet you each remained unmoving, only staring down one another’s souls until the proper words. “Here, I brought some dinner. Maybe you can tell me all about what you and Rudolph got up to today. I even brought pizza, your favorite at that.”

Wanda only nodded, and although her internal-self fought against her begging her to take action, she simply stood back and basked in the adoration she had for you. Maybe once she garnered enough bravery, she could make her ever-growing love known.

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Each night you made sure to tuck Wanda in per her instructions. She wanted to ensure that they wouldn’t come after her. After years of constant torment, of unimaginable torture over her mind and body, it was difficult to shake off the feeling of fear they gifted her with.

With a smile on your face, you visited her room, previously a guest room that now had walls painted pink with numerous fairy lights surrounding them. You were to wrap her up with the bed sheets, to stuff Rudolph beneath them as well for extra safety because Wanda always said “If they get me, maybe they’ll get him too. I just want Rudolph to be safe.” While you knew others wouldn’t understand, you found it to be the farthest request away from silliness. It was out of terror that she needed to be watched over, and even held your hand tightly whenever you did as much as going to the grocery store together.

“They’re not coming to get you,” you reminded her. “I set all of the alarms. If so much as a fly tries to get into the house, I’ll know.”

Wanda gazed up at you with fondness from her bed. “Thank you. You know, you don’t always have to do this. I don’t want you to feel like-”

“I want to do it,” you interrupted her, leaning down to ensure she was nice and warm. The snow that pelted her covered window brought in a freezing breeze with it, one you desperately wished to help Wanda avoid. “Remember I’m just down the hall if you or Rudolph need anything. Goodnight, Wanda and Rudolph. I hope you two sleep really well.”

Letting out a tired yawn, Wanda waved you off. “G’night, Y/N. Thanks for everything.”

Closing the door as you escaped the room, you flashed her a warm smile. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Most nights it took you a few hours to become one with your exhaustion. The worry which you felt for Wanda’s safety was far too immense, not allowing you to properly find sleep until you ensured no one would be coming for her. There was still a question of who exactly they were, and whether you could somehow bring their macabre operations to a halt. In due time perhaps Wanda would be comfortable enough letting you know.

Sighing constantly, you finally found the drop of drowsiness required to shut your eyes. It was a comfortable sleep you garnered, your unconscious forming images of your waking life and morphing them into a dream in which Wanda, as it had become custom, was a part of. Only within such a state, you lovingly cared for her, holding her close at all times as you shared a life of romanticism that wasn’t present in reality.

Dawn passed by when an unknown body made its way into your room. It hesitated for a bit, not knowing whether to act as it cracked the door open. With each miniscule sound, every small creak from the outdoors, it jumped. Making up its mind, the figure rushed to the safety of your bed, throwing itself over it immediately as a means to seek out protection.

The action was enough to wake you up in a confused frenzy as you felt a body cling itself to your own. “What the fu-” No matter how much you tried to push it off, nothing shifted. At least not until you fearfully explored its silhouette and found a rather curious pair of antlers sticking out. “Wanda?”

“I’m sorry,” a small voice croaked out, shaky enough to let you know she had been crying. “I- I had a bad dream. Usually I can handle when it happens but…but it was so real, Y/N. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Oh honey, come here,” you mumbled back. Once the bedside lamp was turned on, you pulled Wanda further in. your tiredness didn’t matter anymore. All you cared for was coaxing her into relaxation as her body shook violently with a terror that had formed in her mind. “It’s okay, Wanda. You’re safe with me. We’re home, you’re not back there again. I’ll never, ever let them take you away.”

With her bottom lip a quivering mess, Wanda nodded. Each time you ran your hand against her back, her choked sobs were louder, all until she was unable to hold back her emotions. Tears cascaded down her hot, furious cheeks as her anger and agitation came to soothe her during such tedious reminders. Incoherently she cursed off the memory of the farm, the memory of Rumlow from what you could make out. It was a name you’d never forget, immediately seared into your mind as you’d search heaven and hell until you found him and made him pay.

“They took my mama and papa…they took Pietro!” Wanda cried with an anguish so clear in her tone. “T-they’re gone. I never got to see them again after they found us. My home, my village, it all got destroyed by them .”

“Who did this to you, Wanda?” You tried asking, but she shook her head with disappointment in herself.

“I don’t know.” No matter how desperately she wished to remember their names and faces other than Rumlow, Wanda felt ashamed to not be able to form even the teeniest memory. All that came to mind were the torturous days, weeks, and even years she was forced to be a servant to humans. “My boys they…they took them away too. My Billy and my Tommy.” You didn’t dare mention it before, but now it made sense why those were names she gave to the two sprouting tulips that grew in your garden, ones that were much bigger and stronger together than the rest. “Why did they hurt me, Y/N? Why?”

You wish you could give her an answer, but even then it wouldn’t make up for the pain and suffering they put her, among other hybrids, through. “I don’t know,” was all you could muster out. “Oh Wanda, I don’t know.”

“I ran so far away when I could,” she continued, seemingly disconnected from her surroundings as her mind turned hazy. “It was so dark and I just…kept going with nothing but those stupid rags on. They said I was special, that I was a gift to them that would bring them riches,” Wanda’s voice dripped with disgust at the mere remembrance. “I was their valuable freak, but really I felt like nothing. I just wanted it to end so bad. I- I couldn’t do it anymore.”

By the time her words died off, wet drops fell down on each of your faces. You were unable to hold back the fury that came from hearing her words mixed with the sorrow you held for any hybrid having such experiences. Your duty had been to protect them from day one, but with Wanda, you’d make sure to love her until the end of time. Never would you allow her to feel worthless and abandoned. With you, the little doe would forever be spoiled with affection.

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With the new information she shared with you, you and Wanda got closer than ever. She didn’t think twice before getting close to you any longer, hugging you from behind or plopping herself down on your lap for your weekly movie nights. Having such freedom to exert her adoration for you in ways beyond words made her the happiest doe in the universe.

Dancing around one another had become the norm. The flirty nature you had only worsened as your not-so-mild crush on Wanda intensified. You couldn’t help but compliment her looks whenever you could, or even hold yourself back from counting her freckles as the two of you snuggled in bed on the daily – Wanda had taken to always staying with you since that night out of safety.

Everything crashed down when Valentine’s Day was just around the corner, and you knew it was time to finally reveal how you felt, even preparing yourself to let her know that if she felt differently, nothing would change.

“This tastes so good,” Wanda moaned as she shoved a spoonful of food into her mouth. “What is it?”

On the most romantic day of the year, you took the liberty to ignore work and your duties to instead focus on Wanda. Through the day you showed off your affection by awakening her with breakfast in bed – her favorite being a bowl of Froot Loops that she unsurprisingly devoured in minutes – and even giving her the most colorful, flowery roses you could find. Rather than keep them stuck to their stems, Wanda begged you to help her in a project. It is how she ended up sitting across from you with her antlers decorated with some of the flowers, ones that she couldn’t simply stop gushing about or taking pictures of with your phone.

“It’s, uh, just baked ziti and some cheesy bread. I know it’s nothing crazy, but I found this really good recipe online and thought you'd like it,” you shrugged. “I’m not really used to cooking this well to be honest.”

“I know,” Wanda teased you, throwing a wink your way as she took another bite of the food. “It’s really good though. I kept smelling it all over the house and was dying to know what you were making. You didn’t disappoint at all.”

“I’m really glad you’re enjoying it.” Although you knew it seemed weird you had yet to so much as taste your food, you were far too busy with a mind rummaging through every possible scenario that could occur. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something. It’s kind of silly the more I think about it, but I honestly don’t know if I can keep hiding it.”

“What’s wrong?” By then Wanda’s instant worries got the best of her. She brought her spoon down and leaned in, her hand coming to rest atop your own as her fingers carrying numerous rings danced across your skin. “You know you can tell me anything, Y/N. You’ve done so much for me and I want to be here for you as well. Maybe I can keep you safe too.”

She said it with the utmost innocence and without a thought, but her words made joyous tears morph themselves over your glassy eyes. “You’re so cute,” you blurted out. “That’s actually what I wanted to tell you. We’re not high schoolers, but I honestly don’t know how else to say it. Wanda, I really, really like you. And these past few months have honestly been the best in my life. Getting to know you, the real you, has been the best thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing. I’m so grateful to have you with me, and although I have feelings for you, I really don’t expect you to feel the same way. If that’s the case I promise nothing will ever cha-”

“You like me?” Wanda frowned out of confusion, her eyebrows furrowing as her ears were downcast. “The way Monica and Chandler like each other?”

Wanda had an extensive amount of free time with you being at work. You had advised her to find any enjoyment, and while the winter made it difficult to properly tend to the garden hidden beneath a protective layer from the snow, she came up with other ways to entertain herself, mostly in the form of sitcoms.

“Yes, Wanda,” you shook your head with amusement. “I like you the way Monice and Chandler like one another.”

“Good, because I like you the same way Lucy and Ricky like each other,” Wanda was pensive for a few seconds before making a correction. “Well, minus the constant bickering. Oh and I’m Lucy, I’m always Lucy. She wears the prettiest dresses ever!”

“You can be Lucy, honey,” you told her. “Anything you want.”

Dinner went by smoothly, the two of you finally feeling as though a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. It was much easier to talk without the barrier of unresolved emotions stuck between the both of you. Instead you could freely hold Wanda’s hand, interlacing your fingers together and happily humming as she went on about the loving memories she had of her family, of her village, from when she was a child.

Listening to Wanda was something you could do for the rest of time. Her voice was serene, a silky sweet tune that played in your mind even when she didn’t speak. You were undeniably enveloped in the arms of Wanda, the goddess who forever tainted each of your thoughts with her lovable appearance. As a simple mortal, you were more than fine worshiping her being.

The two of you danced underneath the moonlight, your coats keeping you warm as you stood on the back porch that was adorned by numerous fairy lights stolen from Wanda’s room. Although shorter than you, the brunette made up for it by standing on the tips of her toes, her feet covered by warm boots while her limbs were to be protected by the heavy layers. She happily allowed herself to be guided, your arms swaying her from side to side as the faint, slow music played in the background.

“I’m so glad you found me,” Wanda thought of it a million times before, but was finally able to vocalize it. “I’m lucky to have met you.”

Shaking your head, you leaned down to press your forehead against her freezing one. “Honestly? I’m the lucky one, baby.”

The first time your lips touched Wanda’s, everything in life made sense. Your purpose, the time it took you to found the one , was all worth it when you swooped in to claim the hybrid. You allowed her to take the lead seeing that it was the first time she kissed anyone. Wanda’s shy, insecure lips happily pecked you over and over as giggling overcame your ears from her joy.

Her excitement thumped the cold her body was overtaken with. Wanda pulled away a few times to gather her breathing, but came back with much more force. Her antlers adorably bumped against you from time to time, earning an embarrassed yet short ‘sorry’ before the younger woman asked for permission to go once more. Quickly it became clear that kissing you, making out underneath the moonlight, was Wanda’s favorite activity.

And if you were being honest, it was a favorite of yours as well.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“I need you,” Wanda had told you weeks into forming an official relationship where each day was better than the last. “I want you.”

From the beginning you didn’t dare pressure Wanda into anything she was not ready for. Instead, you sat back and let her choose, patiently allowing her to take whatever time necessary to build her comfort — even if it meant eternity, you wouldn’t fight against it. Touching Wanda even in the most innocent of ways was already a loving pleasure you didn’t take for granted.

Her excitement for it made you swoon. You couldn’t help but smile when Wanda happily dragged you to bed after a long, tedious Saturday of doing nothing. Nature finally took color, even if a dim green that was still overshadowed by the remainder of winter. But alas, spring, being right around the corner, blossomed happily in a manner which even your newfound partner was happily affected.

“I’ve never really been with anyone,” Wanda whispered in a tone barely hearable. “Well, I dunno if what they did at the farm counts. Is that how it’s supposed to go? Is it meant to hurt if I don’t want it?”

She had allowed you to lay her back until her head and antlers hit the soft pillows of what was now your shared bed. While her eyes twinkled with giddiness, her lips were gently gnawed out with anxiety. Wanda could very well put an end to it all before it even began, a power you bestowed upon her without hesitation. But her desire to finally achieve such pleasures with you thumped her fears.

“Oh no, honey. It’s not meant to hurt at all,” you responded with bile rising from your throat at the mere thought of someone hurting Wanda like that. “And you’re supposed to want it. If you don’t want it before or during, it just stops. You have all the power here, Wanda. I do whatever it is you want — when you want it and how you want it.”

Your words were enough to soothe her nervous thoughts. Surely Wanda had tried to pleasure herself, especially whenever she stood in the shower intently listening to your voice from rooms away, but she never knew what to do in a proper manner. So instead she settled for driving a pillow between her legs and gyrating her hips. Although it helped for a while, it was nothing compared to the joy she’d feel if it were you instead.

“I trust you,” Wanda reassured you as your fears of potentially hurting her made you remain still right atop her body. “I…I really want it. Can we maybe start? If that’s okay with you.”

“Of course, dear,” you couldn’t help but find her inexperience rather endearing. “I’ll take my clothes off first, okay? That way you feel more comfortable if you want me to do the same with you.”

Wanda was in awe of what she deemed to be your beauty. Her eyes went wide, mouth left agape as you removed each and every article of clothing until you were kneeling between her legs fully naked. Surely she had imagined what you’d look like underneath all those layers, but never did she expect to be witness to such perfection.

“You look…amazing,” Wanda mustered out. She reached out, hand barely ghosting your skin that she longed to touch. “May I?”

When you nodded, the palm of her hand was quick to touch your already burning skin. Wanda could barely afford to touch you without it driving her mad. Between her legs she felt a knowing tingle, one that got her entire body flushed and damp. Licking her lips, the doe gave you a knowing look.

Undressing Wanda was a true honor. She brought your hands her way, allowing you to tug and pull at the layers upon layers she chose to wear. Although shaky, she was exhilarated to find herself in a similar state of nudity as yours, even going as far as helping you remove her brassiere before her breasts were revealed.

“Fuck,” you murmured. Staring down at Wanda, you were frozen in place. Her breasts were perfect — pink, hardened nipples poking out as her creamy skin lay awaiting your approval. What you couldn’t easily get over was the wetness that was stricken between her legs oozing down onto the bed sheets you’d remind yourself to clean. “Oh my. Wanda, you’re so fucking gorgeous. Just look at yourself.” Your hands, with a mind of their own, each grabbed one of her breasts. The sweet tenderness of them made you groan out loud. “Baby you’re so perfect. Hmm I have the most beautiful little doe in the world.”

The stench of sex is what drove you mad as you slid your body against Wanda's; your skins were set aflame by one another’s, mouth instantly finding hers as you settled to have her in more ways than one. You couldn’t help the curiosity that slid your hands all over Wanda’s groping every area as you sloppily made out with her. Those gorgeous hips of hers wouldn’t stop moving at random, only hoping to be further touched where she sought you out the most.

“You tell me if it hurts and I’ll immediately stop,” you grunted against Wanda’s lips. Her legs held you in place as her arms wrapped themselves over your neck. “Can I touch you, baby?”

“Please,” Wanda begged. “I need you inside.”

As soon as she spit out the words, you did just as she wanted. Your dominant hand found her cunt. It was puffy and pink, flushed with juices that your thumb swirled around as it parted her folds. Poor thing was far too unbelievably drenched that your fingers could so easily ease themselves within her tight hole. Running your curious fingers along her slit, you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer.

Being inside Wanda made you weak. Your mind was hazy, eyesight blurry as you brought two digits to dip into her pussy. You slowly let them enter, thumbing at her bulbous clit from time to time as a means to let your lover relax. Loud moans were drowned out by your lips that danced lustfully with hers. You couldn’t believe the absolute warmth, the tight grip, and the ever-loving wetness that you felt inside Wanda.

“It feels so good,” Wanda choked out. She threw her head back, and rather than seek out her mouth, you ended wrapping your lips around one of her hardened nipples instead. “Y/N! Oh, oh! F-fudge!”

“You’re so cute,” you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound drowned out by your suckling of her rosy buds. “Hmm at this rate, you’ll barely last, Bambi. How fucking cute and mine.”

Even if your eyes stumbled upon them, you refused to make note of her healed scars apart from the mementary kisses over them. You had seen her suffer enough, and yet you hadn’t been there to witness the whole story. Wanda deserved to be adored, to be worshiped like the entity she was until every last drop of her could sense the grandiosity she was capable of.

Fingers thrust themselves deep inside the velvet walls that clung to you in a welcoming manner. You could barely move given her tightness, but with every simple action, Wanda relaxed even further to give you better access. She got used to it, the newfound feeling of being lovingly stretched out quickly turning to a favorite, all with her bundle of nerves thoroughly stimulated.

Just as she arrived, Wanda came with her eyes closed and mouth left agape. The tight knot that had formed within her abdomen was finally released as her heavy, mind blowing orgasm was shot through her being. She didn’t do much but scream, her moans turning out to be loud enough to wake the neighbors as her back arched far enough that her breasts were smothering your face. Ecstasy drove her to the brink of madness where she was hastily thrown off as you curled your finger upwards, successfully hitting the most tender area within Wanda.

“Shhh it’s okay, baby,” you cooed at her, brushing your forehead with Wanda’s. “I got you. Just let go for me. You’re being such a good girl, dear. The very best.”

Incoherently Wanda thanked you. She let out sobs rooted in joy as she hugged you close with shaky limbs. “Felt good,” the doe breathed out, voice broken and hoarse. “‘M a good girl.”

“You’re a very good girl, Wanda,” you reassured her. “My good girl.” At that, even in her exhausted state, Wanda beamed. “Now it’s time you rest up, baby. If you feel up for more, I’m here, but we gotta get you some water for now. Doesn’t that sound good?”

“Yeah,” Wanda choked out. “S’good.”

Brushing away the messy strands of brown hair from her face, you took in Wanda’s perfection. Surely your job was to protect her, but beyond that you were to love and treat her as the goddess you knew her to be. Kissing the top of her head, you promised to forever watch over her every need, and instantly satisfy it no matter what it took.

Lips lingered over Wanda’s forehead as you hummed. “It’s always going to be the two of us, Wanda. You’re finally home.”

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Lizards, amphibians, and other reptiles shed their skin and eat it to avoid wasting any nutrients. (youtube.com)

Child reader finds a new tv show to watch, it's historical drama and it affects her personality. Like this video

I love this video! It always makes me laugh!

-Brunnhilde walked into the kitchen, pinching the bridge between her eyes with a deep sigh leaving her, “I think we just need to take away Y/N’s TV privileges for a while.”

-The others in the kitchen, Apollo, Odin, Adam, and Jack looked over at her, confused as Adam spoke, “We took away her cop drama and that trashy romance drama- what is it now?”

-She motioned over her shoulder with her thumb, looking exasperated, “See for yourself.”

-The men walked into the living room, where a tea party was set up, you were wearing a pretty dress, a large hat and accessories, while Loki was dressed in similarly fancy lady clothes, with a couple of your stuffed animals dressed up around the table as well.

-The period drama you had been watching wasn’t bad, there was no violence and from what they could see, there was nothing that would be too impressionable. They thought wrong.

-You were holding your tea pot, speaking with a British accent, “More tea Mrs. Fancypants?” Loki, holding out his mug for the imaginary tea, smiled warmly, “Of course Miss Elegance~ this blend smells quite delightful!”

-Jack was amused, holding a hand to his mouth to hide his smile while Odin and Adam facepalmed in annoyance while Apollo beamed brightly, as he loved period dramas, pulling out his phone, recording.

-You then spoke again, “I have invited you all here to share splendid news- Lord Wetherby has asked for my hand!” Loki gasped, holding his hands to his cheeks.

-You looked pleased at his reaction, “Your silence speaks volumes Mrs. Fancypants, as I couldn’t help but notice you exchanging glances with my betrothed at his ball last week.”

-Loki looked appalled, seeing that he had been caught before he took a sip, trying to smooth things out. You smiled warmly, “Enjoying your tea Mrs. Fancypants- it’s a new blend I’ve recently discovered, and you were the first to taste it.”

-He looked down at his tea, before his hand came to his throat, as if he was having issues breathing, and you smiled, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking- about friendship and about trust- both are so fragile- just like these teacups!” you threw your teacup to the ground, for dramatic effect, despite it being plastic, as Loki fell back, pretending to die.

-Odin then shouted, “Loki! Y/N!” you both looked up at him, seeing the four of them looking a mixture of amusement and annoyance, as Apollo and Jack were enjoying your performance, “You’re both grounded from the TV.”

-Instantly you were both whining, saying they weren’t being fair!

[cain-e-brookman]

Hey y'all, @creatingblackcharacters has created a challenge for Black History Month and I thought I'd share my entry. I'd like to tag @topazadine @illarian-rambling @mx-ryder and @spideronthesun for the challenge as well!

Uthyr is the main character of my current WIP: The Name, Witch. His is a story of healing, of putting down shame, and of being true to the spirit of what created you, no matter how the world wants you to bend. This is a scene that takes place about 10 years before we meet him in this same garden. Uthyr's greatest victory is always against despair. Uthyr's strength is in his conviction to himself, the culture and virtues that were passed onto him, and his love for the world around him. In my writing, I want my Black audience to see their own resilience in Uthyr. I want to highlight Black men in roles that are softer, but no less strong.

I also sincerely hope that this book can be a long shout out to my Black autistic sibs who are also obsessed with bugs, amphibians, and/or reptiles. I gave my hyperfixation to Uthyr, and I hope you feel seen with it as well. As I said in the comments to a very needed check, joy is just as important as resiliency, and I hope you find as much happiness as Uthyr does in with cold little buddies!

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perhaps on the crest of each stiff blade of grass hangs the eternal name of someone who was once loved but is now vanished and just another name in an endless field of names that is newly remembered with each return trip of the eager nose...

-Hanif Abdurraqib from "The Crown Ain't Worth Much

The hydrangea bush to the north of his house was the first thing Uthyr put into the soil in his soon-to-be garden. An old witch tradition. The color of the flowers changed with the humors of the soil. Uthyr didn’t know which color he hoped for, just that it grew to be strong. He hoped the plant would grant him the same blessing.

The last thirty-some years of Uthyr’s life had left behind the cooled pyres of his family, and the last two since the death of his mother had left him adrift. The first, a long year where he’d traveled to nowhere in particular, stayed where he found place to stay, and searched desperately for a purpose. At the end of that long year, he realized, exuberantly, there was none. No end to rush to, no greater deed to be done. He would not be rewarded for suffering, would not reach some peak where it became all worth it. He would not find a purpose, nor would he make his own. He would, instead, simply live. Live brightly, now. Live fearlessly, now. He didn't know where he would go, but he knew where he would start.

He practiced his healing for the first time since his father died. A young girl had taken a fall in the small town in which he was staying. He'd gone to her without a thought, placed his hands around the break, and reached out where he knew the magic still laid. The feel of bone knitting beneath his fingers nearly had him in tears. He could hear his father’s warm, heavy voice as he worked:

Bone remembers its home, just not the way back. Remind it gently, and its journey will be painless.

The little girl hadn’t even cried. He’d pulled a dandelion seed that had stuck itself on his cloak and grew it into a miniature sun before placing it behind her ear for bravery. The Sun Goddess rarely answered his beckons for fire, and his stubbornness never won out over the Stone’s, but neither skill brought about the smiles of gratitude he’d seen in all his time healing. He wished it hadn’t taken him so long to appreciate that part of himself, that part of his father’s influence.

Then, after a long while of fighting with his own head, he finally chose himself. Two weeks in a temple to the God of the Golden Moon saw him leaving behind the word “daughter,” to be replaced with a name that held responsibility to no one but himself. Uthyr of the Asphodels, First of His Name. His mother’s now held nothing a burden of failure on his shoulders. He could have been better for her. Should have been better. But he could not make the dead proud, so he cast off the guilt. It no longer served either of them. 

He changed his hair. Spent a long day removing neat rows of braids from his head, combing and washing then rolling his hair like he’d seen his uncle do so many times. At the end of it all, he had sore arms and a deep satisfaction. The start of those locs still stuck oddly from his head in their awkward stage.

“Ugly stage,” his mother used to tease Uncle Callum when they recounted stories of their youth. His uncle would always raise an eyebrow and inform her in no uncertain terms that he’d never been ugly a day in his life. Uthyr planted snapdragons by his window for them both; their favorites. Yellow for his mom. Purple for his uncle. The seeds had been expensive for the paltry savings he’d kept from his brief stint of odd-job healing around the surrounding towns, but the memory of the two exchanging plants on their shared birthday had Uthyr lightening his coin purse without a second thought.

He continued with a few more plots around his house. A smattering of pansies for color, some herbs for healing, then some more for cooking… 

A single row of daffodils by his doorway. For his father. His birthday would be soon. Uthyr would cut one and light a candle. Pray the Death God pass on his love.

I’m alright, he’d tell his father. It’s hard and I’m tired, but it’s alright. I’ve got good soil under my feet and good hands to dig.

The anemones he planted on the shaded side of his house were for himself, though. They were delicate things, but right now so was his heart and that needed just as much care. He’d stay strong for them and they’d do the same for him. Water and sunlight. The start, his uncle would say, to any life worth living. 

And hope, Uthyr thought. Half of it was always hope.

When Uthyr finished for the day the sun was drawing long shadows across the forest floor. All but his pansies would not see color or flower for a long while, but as Uthyr dusted soil off the dark skin of his hands and forearms, he could already see the future it held. He would get some roses. Maybe not this year. He needed to plant his vegetable garden first. Maybe splurge on a fruit sapling. Tonight he would sit in his mostly empty home, cook a small pot of soup with ingredients from a garden that wasn’t his, and plan recipes for when his own produce grew. But as for now, he felt the waking breath of spring on his face, the softness of the grass under his legs as he dug his toes into the cool earth below him. 

A tentative peace was forming in his chest, walking haltingly like a newly born fawn. He’d found a creek not far from where he sat. He wondered if the tadpoles had yet grown legs.

---

And now, my excited rambling: the title of the poem before the cut is Notes On Waiting for the Dog to Find the Perfect Place to Take a Shit While Morning Cuts Through the Sky, Fresh From Another Darkness, which is quite possibly one of Abdurraqib's best titles and also a wonderful poem. I saw When I Say Loving Me Is Like Being a Chicago Bulls Fan posted on facebook at one point and I've been in love with his poetry since. The way he weaves pain and hope with his anger and his love in a way that criticizes a society that doesn't value himself or people like him, while celebrating his identity is both masterful and cutting. Listen to the man and buy his books! His essay collection, A Little Devil in America: In Praise of Black Performance is going to be my read for my essay collection square for the 2025 book bingo, and I'm really excited to finally get to it!

[jmwdoesthings]

Unravelling Umbridge: Part 2

In which plans are made, Luna Lovegood unwittingly gets the better of Snape, and Fred and George Weasley are about to be caught completely off guard.

(Part 1 is on my blog :)

Featuring: Madame Rosmerta, Snape's pink cheeks, two fat nifflers and McGonagall as a cat.

Disclaimer: No pairings! This is a Hogwarts Professors being chaos fic. Everything is nice and proper (as it should be).

Enjoy!

***

The Three Broomsticks were relatively empty during the dark hours of after-student curfew: after ten. The hour was half-past, fires blazed in their places and the inn was as toasty as it could be on a chilly September night. The faint babble of chatter and clinking of glass coming from the kitchen and the bar was like honey in the ears of the two teachers sitting in the corner of the inn, after a whole day of shouting and chaos in the classrooms and common rooms.

Madame Rosmerta smiled as she wove her way across to the two of them, a glass of gillywater and Ogden’s upon her tray.

“Hello, Minerva, Professor Snape,” she said, with a little wink at the latter. “What brings you here on a late Monday evening?”

Severus Snape started at the wink, then averted his eyes from the pretty lady and instead grasped his glass of whisky. Minerva McGonagall spied a very faint tinge of pink upon his cheekbones and barely kept her face under control.

“Nothing much, Rosmerta,” she replied with a faint smile. “We have some marking business to discuss. It’s a lot more peaceful here, away from the students… and I daresay not much can happen when everybody is asleep.”

Severus inclined his head a fraction as a way of contributing to the conversation.

“I won’t interrupt you then,” Rosmerta replied with an eye-roll and smile. “I’d rather not get involved with such dark business.”

“Very wise,” McGonagall replied. “Thank you, dear.”

There was a moment’s pause during which both Heads sipped their drinks and fixed their eyes on the table, as Madame Rosmerta made her way back to the bar. Snape sighed faintly.

“Your cheeks are red,” Minerva said, not looking up. Severus didn’t retort, though he had to clear his throat quite thoroughly after swallowing.

“A lot of things can happen when everybody’s asleep, professor,” he replied stonily once he regained his breath. “Let’s talk quickly and return.”

Minerva put down her glass and folded her hands, placing her head upon them. “Let us do that. You are aware, perhaps, that Dolores is fond of cats?”

Severus’ eyes were directed to her as he swallowed his Ogden’s and stayed there as he put his glass down. 

“Cats.”

McGonagall smiled at his baffled tone and expression - the latter was a very peculiar one, for his eyebrows always formed a low, straight line and his eyes narrowed along with his mouth, so he looked as though he had just swallowed an amphibian - and inclined her head, her glasses flashing peculiarly in the light of the candles above them.

“Indeed. She’s really fond of kittens. Have you been in her office, yet?”

He scoffed. “I am yet to experience that pleasure.”

“Oh, you’ll absolutely love it,” she said, recalling her own disgust after she had set foot in it after an invitation. She had almost been surprised that her clothes hadn’t turned pink from exposure. “But all in good time.”

She pulled out the piece of parchment she had drawn up in her office and splayed it out onto the table. Snape leaned over, studied it, then turned his eyes onto her.

“This is just a print of a cat,” he observed, doubt and severe judgement lining his tone.

“That’s right.”

He studied his older counterpart for a few moments longer, but when she gave no answer, he grimaced. “Would you care to enlighten me, Professor?”

“With pleasure,” McGonagall replied, unmistakably smiling now. “You see, Severus… Dolores is fond of cats.”

���Yes, that we have already established.”

“And I, Professor Snape, am an animagus. More precisely…”

She ran a weathered finger over the rim of her glass, her grey eyes flashing with something which made Severus slightly uncomfortable. He had seen this gleam in the eyes of Gryffindor students fairly often when they were intent on acting up in his lessons; it usually meant they were about to toss things across the classroom into one another’s cauldrons, or something that was equally insipid.

“...I am perfectly capable of turning into a cat at leisure.”

Severus Snape’s face did not change, but as he reached for his whisky, his eyebrows crept upwards onto their highest step. The two Heads stared at one another for one long moment, both their eyes now gleaming, after which Severus put down his glass and inclined his head, slightly begrudgingly.

“I must admit that you, Minerva, are full of surprises.”

“My.” She chuckled. “Was that a compliment?”

“I’m disgusted with myself too.”

“A compliment,” she repeated. “From you?”

Severus looked at her long and hard, then shrugged. “You sound astonished. As though I rarely give out compliments, professor. I will have you know that nobody is as generous in their bestowment as I am.”

Minerva humphed, then rolled the parchment up and carefully set it on fire.

“I should give Slytherin a few points just for the sake of it,” she murmured, tilting the parchment with her wand, as it disintegrated above the table. “Perhaps one or two.”

Snape didn’t look impressed, but something of a smile still lingered on his features.

“I am no longer an adolescent, professor.”

“Nonsense. Unfortunately for you…” McGonagall made a little sound of satisfaction as the rest of the parchment vanished, then turned back to him. “You’ll never be a day over fifteen, for this old crone.”

Severus watched this old crone wriggle on her chair for half a second before emptying her glass, revealing as much excitement as her own stiff person perhaps would ever allow itself to, then returned to his usual stony expression after a moment and scoffed.

“I would hate to be in your place, professor,” he said, imagining short, square, flabby fingers with pink nails before him, magnified from a feline’s perspective. “Though, tell me, what exactly do you plan on doing when you enter that disgusting hellscape of magenta and primrose?” He spat out the last three words. “Are you really going to let that woman cluck and coo at you, perhaps even scratch you behind the ears?”

His lips curled upwards and black eyes began to glint. 

“I suppose that would be quite a poke at your dignity. The Head of Gryffindor in such a precarious position? Hm. I reckon you would be giving her a piece of your mind with your steel claws before you could stop yourself, but then the whole plan would be ruined.”

“You would be right.” McGonagall sniffed, no longer liking this turn of events. “Yet I am willing to put it to the side for the greater good, Severus.”

She sent him a pointed glance from behind her spectacles. He rolled his eyes and finished his drink.

“It is a very good idea,” he admitted, placing the glass down with a thunk. “I assume it is to gather more information than we are aware about. Perhaps she hides some strange letters of correspondence in her desk, or something equally vile.”

“Not my thoughts exactly, but whilst I am there, it would not do any harm to sniff around.”

Minerva placed her glass in the middle of the table, neatly. “However, it will not happen straight away, perhaps not even this week. The first few are always the most chaotic. Let us wait until everybody settles down, back into routine… or as much into routine as it can be, with the changes our subject of discussion has so boldly introduced this new order of things… before disturbing it”

They stood; Severus drew a finger over the surface of the table, then turned to Minerva.

“I expect to be informed as soon as you make your first venture, professor.”

“You will be the first,” she replied, as they made their way out of the inn, “and probably the only person who I will inform about this. Stay sharp. And Severus,” she added, looking back at him. “If you are so interested, why don’t you tell Rosmerta directly, instead of being so pathetically discreet? It’s incensing.”

Snape scoffed and averted his eyes from the white smile flashing from over by the bar, surrounded by a cloud of blonde curls, hastily.

“Don’t make me laugh, professor,” he muttered. “Interested. As if.”

Then he stepped past her and stormed out of the inn with his fists clenched and his dark cloak billowing.

*

And so the wait began, though nobody who observed the Potions Master would have thought that he was waiting for anything, for his masks of indifference were so close to perfect that everybody was convinced that Severus Snape was simply living his best life, or at least as close as it could get to that in present circumstances.

In fact, the Head of Slytherin and the Head of Gryffindor hardly spoke to one another at all that week, though they sat next to one another during meals to oversee the miserable silence in which meals were now spent. Both, however, had the pleasure of not sharing the company of Dolores Umbridge directly, who had taken to sitting next to Dumbledore and bestowing her little observations and ‘hem hems’ onto him. Since Albus was so polite as to never reveal what (as everybody was convinced) he really thought of her presence, he was the one who was suffering at large, running his fingers through his beard, his eyes rather solemn behind his half-moon spectacles though his mouth was always politely smiling and baffling Frog Pinky with stories - which most of the staff had heard before and chuckled at, since they were always told with that in mind - which verged on nonsensical.

Sometimes during these meals, Snape would glance at his colleague, who would return his glance without as much as an inclination of her head, and he would understand that it was yet to happen. He didn’t complain, nor grow more impatient, for he had far too much to do in his own time and his temper was put to the test on many occasions anyway, especially when teaching the fifth years, since Potter and his hilarious camaraderie didn’t have any less nonsense in their heads and twice the usual vigour to bring it into his life this year.

None of that put him on edge in the sense that he dreaded, however. Since Severus operated mainly on logic and common sense, he knew there was no way that anybody but his house rival knew of their conspiracy, and so he had no reason to be - and was not - nervous. Nor was he expecting any sort of confrontation with the amphibious, bureaucracy-hailing blob of magenta which terrorised students with greater ease than he did, regardless of the fact that he was almost double her height. 

Confrontation did not come, but eavesdropping did, though it was entirely unintentional. Severus was returning from the staff room after lunch break when upon turning the corner and a suit of armour to where the DADA office stood, he encountered the despised Miss Bufotes-Roseaus at her office door, deep in conversation with Argus Filch.

“I’m telling you, Mr Filch, it was a very pretty little cat, grey, with little black markings on its face. I’m sure you must have seen it before… you do have such a sweet little creature yourself.”

Severus stopped, then receded back behind the corner, into its shadows, and hid behind the suit of armour. From this position, he was almost impossible to see, for there were few windows on this corridor and his clothes were as black as the shadows sticking to the walls, so logic dictated that he ought to listen and collect as much information as possible for the good of the Slytherin-Gryffindor truce, before making his way back. He watched Filch shaking his balding, old head.

“Can’t say I’ve seen it before, professor, but that wouldn’t be the first time Hogwarts has attracted such creatures. I’ve shooed many away on such an occasion myself… my cat is allergic to others of its species, I’m afraid.”

“Well, please be sure to let this one walk around as it pleases, Mr Filch,” Umbridge said with a nod. “I think it’s taken quite a liking to me, and I’ve come to be fond of it myself.”

Severus hardly restrained himself from snorting aloud, though his lip did twitch at the image brought before him of this woman cooing over a po-faced, stiff-backed Minerva-the-cat. He owed his colleague for making him laugh, he thought - it wasn’t a common occurrence and he prized it. But then the conversation turned, and they began to speak of something different, something which had rather the opposite effect on him.

“Tell me, Mr Filch,” Toadus Pinkus began in her sickening sing-song. “What do you think of the professors here?”

Filch pushed out his lips as he thought. “That depends upon what grounds.”

“Why, teaching, of course!” came the reply. “And their beliefs. Those are important qualities, the most important qualities a professor can have. After all, they unknowingly bestow their views and upbringing upon the ones who they teach, and in a world as this one…”

“I see, I see,” Filch said, frowning as he searched in that knock-hollow head he carried on his dowager-humped shoulders. “I suppose most of them are quite good, Professor Umbridge.”

“Hm. Have you ever partook in any recent Care of Magical Creatures lessons, Mr Filch?”

Snape didn’t quite know why, but his fist tightened into the fold of his robes where was currently holding them. Filch nodded.

“I have, actually. I myself have helped with amassing some creatures Mr Hagrid had gotten ready for the lessons.”

“And are they fully approvable? The lessons?”

Filch hesitated. Severus could almost see his little brain working. Umbridge filled the care-taker in.

“They follow the Ministry curriculum? Does he communicate on an acceptable standard?”

Filch frowned; Severus felt his temper rising up like fiery bile from his lungs and into his head.

“Why, I suppose he does…” Filch scratched his chin. “I’m hardly ever there, really. I couldn’t really tell you, professor. You’ll have to see for yourself.”

“A good idea, Mr Filch.” Severus could see the toad smile, as she adjusted the pink bows stuck to the side of her head. “Your domain is mainly the castle corridors, I assume?”

“That’s right.”

“So you know how the other professors do, I suppose.”

“I’ve seen this and that.”

“What about… hm, the dark, unpleasant-looking man. Severus Snape, I believe his name was. Thin, with a crooked nose, surly expression?”

Snape barely repressed a scoff. They could laugh at him if they wished to, he thought, for he was immune to such abominable slighting and often did some of his own in his head, though his slighting was directed at others too. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about him, Professor Umbridge,” Filch waved his hand with a snort. “The students get on quite alright in his lessons, that’s without a doubt. In fact, I often find myself wishing other teachers would take a leaf out of his book.”

“Hm. Indeed,” Umbridge hummed again. “And the old woman?”

Severus felt the veins in his neck begin to grow hot. He held his breath, expecting more. Filch frowned again. 

“Old woman?”

“Yes. I believe McGonagall was her name.”

“Oh!” Filch nodded, then lowered his voice and flicked his eyes around the corridor nervously. “I cannot complain about Professor McGonagall! She’s taught at Hogwarts long before I walked its halls, professor, and from what I’ve seen she has not a single fault in her teaching. A very good witch. Doesn’t quite believe in punishing students as they ought to be, however. A shame, if you ask me.”

“Indeed,” Umbridge pursed her thick lips. “It seems to me that she’s a little too above herself.”

Ha, Severus thought, not even realising he was running his fingers along the smooth material of his wand in his sleeve, does she now.

Filch merely inclined his head at this, but kept silent.

“As though she owns the place,” Umbridge continued. “Perhaps she fancies herself the Headmistress, one day. Quite a prolonged goal, if that’s the case… she must be almost at the end of her life, and she’s spent most of it here, from what I’ve heard… She doesn’t have long to realise it.”

Severus slowly drew out his wand.

“Why, she has,” Filch said.

“A rather sad one… but, that’s simply how life is. It’s not fair, as we both know, Mr Filch, life. Some people amount to greatness, some people…” She sighed, looking pitifully at probably an invisible McGonagall beside them. “Well, they contribute something to the world, but nothing of significance.”

Severus’ hand didn’t tremble as he lifted it, as he saw black and red, his lungs constricted, fire in his veins, pointing the tip of his wand at Umbridge. Fury only increased precision and potency in his spells.

“Some people are simply good enough to be turned into dust,” he found himself murmuring as he took a step back, readying himself, “and that’s the best thing they can hope to amount to… as do the people around them.”

He was about to flick his wrist; just about to hiss out something uncontrollable in the pit of his mind and step back, when something rustled behind him and he froze, shooting a look over his shoulder, his heart stumbling in its thudding plunge from fury to shock.

Two unnaturally-huge, silvery-blue eyes stared up at him, standing a mere two steps away from where he hid. Severus recognised this student; he would be a fool not to, for she stood out with her crazy ornaments, jewellery and distinct bolt-crazy habits. At present, she was clutching a stack of magazines with a pair of strange goggles on her forehead which pressed down her platinum-blonde locks and she was looking at him without a hint of trepidation or concern in her expression.

“Please carry on, professor,” Luna Lovegood murmured dreamily. “I just wanted to watch.”

Severus would have never admitted it, but he felt a strange shudder roll through him which pulled at his nerves. He was uneasy; only for a few moments, however. 

He stepped out from behind the suit of armour and retreated back around the corner to where Lovegood stood, leaving the gossiping pair at Umbridge’s door, then sucked in a breath, felt his temper restart, shoved his wand up his sleeve and made motion with his head for her to follow him.

When they got a safe distance away, he stopped his march and rounded on her. The only trouble was, now that he had been caught about to hex another colleague, he didn’t quite know what he should shout at her. But he didn’t need to. She spoke first.

“She’s an awful creature, isn’t she, professor?” Luna Lovegood adjusted her grip on the stack of magazines she was holding - most of them were upside down - and blinked once. “To be truthful, I wish you’d had done it. Please don’t worry about me telling anybody. I would have done it myself, if I could.”

Snape unfastened his jaw, still quite at a loss for words. “Would you, now.”

“Yes. She reminds me of a doxy. Quite a large and fat one, but a doxy regardless.”

He paused, actually snorted in amusement, feeling his muscles protest at the unnatural action of grinning, then regained himself and looked at Lovegood long and hard. After a moment, he just flicked his head towards the other end of the corridor and folded his arms.

“Go,” he said. “Before I take any points off for skulking about the castle.”

She nodded, not taking her unblinking eyes off him for a moment, gave him a little bow, then turned and walked off calmly to her destination. 

Snape watched her, perplexed, then remembered what he had heard upstairs and clenched his fists. Nothing he could do now, however, would do anybody any good, so he simply turned on his heel and swept off to his classroom before anything else made him explode again.

*

It was on a grey Thursday afternoon - three days after the incident with Luna Lovegood - that Severus, whilst rubbing at his temples and muttering darkly under his breath, still smelling the smoke which had coated the surface of his classroom after a particular accident, found that his waiting had come to an end. Minerva finally nudged the topic which had bubbled on his mind and reminded him of the days in which he had tossed a dungbomb into Sirius Black’s bag - the latter hadn’t noticed until it went off halfway down the corridor and Severus hadn’t forgotten the surge of delight which had took hold of his chest for two days after and whenever he had recalled it. 

McGonagall matched his step on the way to the staff room so silently and without announcement that he had glanced to his left and ended up flinching when he spotted her black hat, balanced upon her head at its usual degree.

“You look like you’ve swallowed an eel,” the elderly witch observed, as he scowled and grimaced at the way his heart thudded against his will.

“I feel as though I’ve swallowed an eel,” Severus muttered, shooting out a sigh through his nostrils. “And I will go as far as to swallow a poisonous one if you comment on any house points, crying students, my expression, or whatever it is I smell like. I’ve had it up to here with everything today, and I’m unwilling to make any exceptions, whether it be to my elders or betters or whatnot.”

Minerva’s lip twitched. 

“Oh, please,” she said once he had finished grouching. “You must realise that you say that every other day. So many times, in fact, that your threats are no longer imposing. But don’t worry Severus, I wasn’t going to, for I have many more important matters to discuss with you before the day is out.”

They glanced at one another, one gaze amused, one perplexed, then made a synchronised U-turn in the middle of the corridor and began to sweep their way in the opposite direction.

“I won’t keep you waiting,” Minerva said, glancing up at him from behind her steely spectacles. “From what I have observed, there’s nothing we, as teachers, can do.”

Snape graced her with a cool glance.

“You have kept me waiting for two weeks after dragging me to suffer at Rosmerta’s just to tell me that there’s nothing we can do?”

She blinked at him with raised eyebrows, then sighed. 

“I’m sorry you were so excited about it, Severus. It’s just that I don’t think we ought to stoop so low as to jinx or hex her in the corridors. That’s something that first-years do to one another. We are adults.”

Severus remembered his precarious hiding place behind the suit of armour and his murderous thoughts and intentions and said nothing.

“In short, there’s nothing we can do without blowing everything over.”

They passed through the main entrance, out onto the school grounds. It was a clear day, as warm as though it was still remembering summer, and mostly silent leave rustling and the far-away barking of the Game Keeper’s dog. Severus drew his cloak about him out of habit, scowling at the sky as Minerva walked along with him, her eyes darting here and there to detect anything unusual, also out of habit.

“Perhaps it is for the better,” she said, after they had made their way out onto the Quidditch pitches. “We are, after all, adults. Well, at least one of us is.”

Severus harrumphed in response. Minerva’s lip twitched.

“So you also think it is better to call this off?”

“No,” came the short answer, surprising her. “Conspiracy has become the highlight of my life and I refuse to give it up so easily.”

McGonagall’s eyebrows were raised again as she directed a look at him.

“Conspiracy? Nonsense.” She scoffed. “Conspiracy indeed. It is vengeance you want.”

“And I am not alone in wanting it,” he snapped. “You’ve been just as petty as I have in the roseau regard. Perhaps more.”

“Be that as it may, vengeance is something to frown upon.”

“Ha,” he scoffed. “That depends on the circumstances-”

“Wait, hush.”

They stopped. Minerva frowned; Severus turned.

“It looks like somebody is out,” he muttered after a pause, his eyes turned upwards. “I just wonder where…”

They both noticed ‘where’ at the same moment. Both had the wits about them to keep silent, though both also were stunned into looking sillier than both of them would have wanted.

Fred Weasley was leaning out of the top battlement, his wand out, looking very gleeful as he hovered down a niffler down to a particular window, about three stories below him. A few metres to his left, George Weasley was hovering down another; both creatures were strangely calm as they spun on different axis, as though they knew full well what was about to happen and were fully anticipating it.

McGonagall regained her voice, though it came out rather unsteady. “Merlin’s beard.”

Severus had shut his mouth by now and was observing the two devils with interest, his hands folded behind his back.

“It appears that that window,” he murmured after a moment, “is our most esteemed Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher’s.”

His voice made him sound almost impressed and was quite serene, though his counterpart was neither of those things one bit.

“But they’re on the battlements,” she said in a slightly strangled voice. “Merlin’s beard, they’re inches from slipping-!”

She started forward after inhaling a swift breath, probably to speak her mind very thoroughly about what she thought about them being so insipidly dim-witted, but Severus stuck out an arm to stop her. She looked at him as though he was mad. He certainly had a strange glint in his eyes. Even the corners of his mouth were turned up. 

“There’s no way we can do this without blowing it, you say, professor?” 

Minerva’s severely judgemental look grew about ten times denser.

“Heavens above, you are mad.”

“I am not,” he said gently, then pointed above him neatly. “But they most certainly are.”

Minerva looked up just in time to see the two fat nifflers roll through the open window, the Weasley twins shoot one another looks of pure pleasure, rub their hands, and their flaming heads disappear after ducking down. It was followed very closely by a sound as though somebody had smashed a glass jewellery box and a couple of dinner plates onto a stone floor, followed by an indignant meow.

There was a pause in which Snape and McGonagall looked at one another. Then, without a word, they both turned neatly on their heels and made their way back to the castle, with varying degrees of satisfaction and resolution upon their faces.

[sarahreadsdccomics]

why is every reptile person ik a dc fan? My bug dealer for my beardie is always wearing a different dc shirt every time I see him. Lowkey a vibe tho. Bro is so chill like I call ahead and I'm like, "u got the stuff?" And he's like, "yep" and that's it bro. He also just randomly tells me fun facts abt his reptiles and amphibians. Shout out to my bug dealer he's the real chill guy. I walk in today and he's wearing a nightwing tshirt and he's just like, " I got ur dubia roaches" my bug dude may be the realest guy ik

[the-journal-in-law]

Prompt from: @thepenultimateword

“Supervillain?”

Henchman slides down the embankment to the river where a soggy figure drags themself from the sludgy current. It’s dark and hard to see, but that hair, those shoulders… It has to be.

“Supervillain!” Henchman grabs their old boss by the arms, clammy and slick from the contaminated water, and heaves them further onto the muddy slope.

“Get away.” It’s low and throaty, more aggressive than usual too, but Henchman is doubly sure of their identity now. Everything gushes out at once.

“Where have you been? Why are you here? It’s been months! How come you didn’t—“

Supervillain’s face flashes up, revealing a short amphibian snout, green slitted eyes, and a pair of gills, just behind their jaw. “I said. Get. Away.”

Henchman is distantly aware that their jaw is falling open. "You-you--"

Supervillain lets out what is supposed to be a growl but instead sounds more like a rumbling croak. "Have you gotten more insolent in my absence?"

Henchman closes their mouth, licks their lips, and attempts to form a coherent sentence. "How...how did you get like this? Was it during your fight with Superhero?"

"Why should I tell you?!"

Henchman's face becomes pained. "You've been gone for months. Do you know how worried I - we've been?"

Supervillain jerks their arm away, and Henchman realises the sliminess they felt was from their moist amphibian skin.

"You don't need me," they snap. "Righthand has been trained to take over in my place."

"You don't know," Henchman realises. They try and reach for Supervillain again, but they step away. Henchman falters. "Boss..Other Supervillain has taken over."

"What?!" they snarl. A fire lights in their eyes, and their haunted expression vanishes. "You incompetent fools! Why did I keep you around?!"

"Boss," Henchman says again. "Come back."

Supervillain wrenches away from their gaze, hunching in on themselves. They look...small.

"You don't need me," they repeat, but this time it's forceful. Vulnerable, as if they were trying to convince themselves.

"We need you." I need you. "You're the only one--"

"You don't need someone like me!" Supervillain shouts. They gesture to themselves. "Look at me! I'm hideous! Nobody would want me!"

They laugh hysterically.

Unbidden, the words slip out of Henchman's mouth.

Supervillain freezes. "What did you say?"

Henchman forces them to catch their gaze. "I want you."

It's something they never thought they would confess. Especially to Supervillain. They'd convinced themselves they were happy just being their lackey, looking at them from afar.

But they couldn't let Supervillain think of themselves like that. Like any form of them was ugly.

Have they always viewed themselves so poorly? The thought pains Henchman.

Supervillain stares at them. "You...you're lying. You're lying, aren't you? You just want me to get rid of Other Supervillain!"

"No." It's a simple word, one that needs no elaboration. No, I would never lie about my affection for you.

Panic begins to appear behind Supervillain's eyes. With no look back, they jump into the water and disappear, leaving Henchman staring at their back. (Unfortunately, it is nothing new).

The next day, Supervillain shows up at Henchman's apartment.

Taglist: @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog@faeruine@a-sunset-outside-my-window@sketxhdragxn@kaiwewi@eri-would-like-to-not-thanks@bownkboo@those-damn-snippets

[polutrope]

Will you post a snippet of an upcoming WIP?

🥰

SURE 😁. Also taking this as my "and anyone who wants" on the WiP snippet tag game.

... WiP Snippet Any Day!

This is from Chapter 4 of And Love Grew. Maglor's host has reached the eaves of Taur-im-Duinath on their journey from Sirion to Amon Ereb. The POV is his commander Dornil.

When they reached the eaves of the forest Maglor ordered four days’ rest. Scouts were sent ahead to chart their course while the rest repaired and washed clothing, took inventory of their supplies, tended to injuries, foraged and hunted. The forest was so dense with vegetation, pressing out to its very edges, as to seem untouched by any creature that fed upon plant life. Indeed, besides small amphibians in the dark streams and the occasional bird flitting in and out of the crowns of ancient trees, they had seen no animals. What was strangest was that much of what lived here was unknown elsewhere in Beleriand. The forest, vast and deep and verdant, was a world unto its own. Silent, some called this forest, and by day it lay quiet indeed, its thick growth swallowing the chatter, the whinnying of horses, the scrape of the whetstone, the fall of water from wrung textile. The sounds, too, of children laughing. Dornil noticed their baskets had been forgotten in favour of some game of hiding and chasing through the understory. At night, Taur-im-Duinath was not silent. At night, the forest threw back echoes of the day’s noises in strained, shrill tones. Noises that swirled and churned in the mind long after they had died, turning, turning until out of the confusion of sounds voices rose. Voices speaking, shouting, singing. Screaming, as the child had done when pricked by the bramble. Dornil fumbled the leaf wrapping on a packet of nuts and they scattered on the ground. She cursed, a choked sound that scratched at her closed throat. She was going mad.

Tagging you back @cuarthol as well as @ettelene @meadowlarkx @swanhild @sallysavestheday to share a snippet of a WiP if you like!

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵Disco Elysium, Pt 1

Yellow moss on these stones... they're probably stolen from someone's garden.

ACELE - "Hello again." The girl looks up at you for a moment before turning back to her work.

4. "What are you doing out here in the cold?"

...

2. (Give her your hat.) "Here. You need this more than I do."

ACELE - "Thanks." She puts it on. It's a bit large for her.

Item lost: Amphibian Sports Visor

+5 XP

That had little benefit except giving us a bonus on a check we've already passed, but it made me feel better. And since we bought that hat from Siileng, we could always just go get another one.

🎵 Protorave

EGG HEAD - The large-headed youth has closed his eyes, lost in the music. Sensing you, he opens them...

"Good morning, comrade! Yeaaaaaah!"

"I found this reel of tape, maybe you can use it to hard-up Eyck's jam." (Give him the fixed hawthrone tree tape.)

EGG HEAD - "Yeagh, re-mix time!" His voice booms through the church as he takes the tape and attaches it to the empty reel slot. "Tape goes here -- into deck B." He clicks a switch, the tape starts spinning...

A hand on his ear, he listens to the audio through his headphones, and shouts…

"Wow..." His face lights up with delight. "Did you get this from Arno himself?"

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - A great excitement is bubbling to the surface within him. This is *big*.

"What do you mean?"

"Uh, no, actually I found it tangled up in a hawthorn tree..."

EGG HEAD - "Listen, I'm just going to show it to you... Ready?"

"Ready."

EGG HEAD - "Whooh, hear that?!" He wipes his brow. "The sines match perfectly!"

"Now if only we had the beat for the *full assault*. It would be unbelievably hyper!"

ANDRE - "Intriguing. The way I see it... van Eyck based his remix on some famous original piece. Like, a folk song? Something local. Seems you found an initial part with the main melody."

NOID - "I think it's just happenstance. Chaos in action. Contingencies of our limited existence. That and Egg Head's fantastic talent." He nods to his friend behind the turntables.

INTERFACING [Medium: Success] - Noid's right, Egg Head's technical talent is the key.

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - No, this is definitely part of the same song. Something cut from it. It fits too well.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - Something *mysterious* is going on here...

"Maybe Arno van Eyck lives around here and just threw a part of his song away, because he thought it was shit?"

"Andre's got it. Sounds like a local song re-mixed."

"I agree with Noid, it's just luck -- *and* Egg Head's incredible mixing skills."

EGG HEAD - "Be how it may -- if it fits, it fits!" He pumps his fist in the air. "Bring up the volume!"

Thought gained: Arno van Eyck

ANDRE - "What about the bass? Do you have any ideas for that?" Andre looks back at you.

NOID - "Yeah, I remember -- you said it needs more bass!"

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Medium: Success] - You can't just leave it without a bass track!

"Honestly, nothing springs to my mind right now. But I'll see if I can come up with a solution down the lane." (Proceed with task.)

"I think it's good enough the way it is. Adding that melody has already been a *massive* improvement. It's pretty hard core now." (Finish task.)

EGG HEAD - "You're *THE WARRIOR*! THE WARRIOR OF DANCE MUSIC!"

ANDRE - "Don't be too hard on yourself if you don't figure it out. I think the jam's already pretty ultra."

EGG HEAD - "But it could be hyper, HYPER HARD CORE!"

5. "Alright. Goodbye, Egg Head." [Leave.]

ARNO VAN EYCK

Temporary research bonus: +1 Interfacing Research time: 0h 50m

The question won’t leave you – why did the melody line from a broken and discarded tape fit perfectly into a song played by some speedfreaks in a frozen tent? Can it be a coincidence? Maybe it’s the hand of the Man-Machine himself, in his attempt to craft a perfect song. Maybe Egg Head is actually Arno van Eyck in disguise!? Eyck? Egg? Hmm...

CHURCH DOORS - Heavy wooden doors more than twice your height stand shut in front of you. The rectangular, sea-worn ornamentation appears in stark contrast to the padlock carelessly drilled into the wood.

Open the padlock with the key.

CHURCH DOORS - The lock turns easily. You hear a click as the shackle pops open.

SHIVERS [Challenging: Success] - Feels like electricity and a very small piece of nothingness.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Let's go." The lieutenant nods at you.

+1 Reputation

Pull on the doors...

CHURCH DOORS - A great whoosh of air rushes into the dark innards of the church, as though rushing to fill a great vacuum...

... in the heart of the city.

[listieshadows]

Hey how is watching amphibia going for you? Thoughts?

Well, I mean that last episode of season two was... A lot, and I've hardly been able to not think about it all day, but otherwise, I've really been enjoying my journey through Amphibia. I mean, the humour's not too far removed from, like, The Owl House or Gravity Falls, so that's already something for me to latch on to. Some of the anime action touches that've been showing up near the end of season two have been amazing as well. Like, I really need to emphasize how incredible Sasha tossing off her gear in the third temple is; that was really cue to me like, "Oh, this kinda stuff 'boutta go nuts."

I thought I'd have a problem with each episode being split into two segments—I mean, the last two shows I watched, The Owl House and Avatar The Last Airbender, were full 22 minute-ers... But honestly, each segment has been well paced enough and has had enough stuff packed in that it's never felt like just a string of 11 minute adventures. I suppose I just forgot how well the "two segments" thing can be done.

I also didn't think I'd be as into the world as I am. Y'know, entirely amphibian-themed? I don't typically have any interest in frogs, but, hey, it's actually fun to see how a lot of it works. Plus, the little glimpses back into the human world have been fun—as of course it would be in a series with humor like this.

And the character relationships and dramas—I mean, that's even why the end of season two hit as hard for me as it has. Well, one half of why, anyway. But I am just so interested in watching these dynamics evolve and seeing these characters grow and change. And I mean all the characters, really. I think back to The Owl House, where most of my interest was directed towards Luz, King, Eda and Lilith. Which isn't that I didn't care about the rest of them; they're just not as central in my mind as those four. But here, even a lot of the reoccuring side characters have been holding me.

Then there's Marcy—the other reason why. I can't remember the last time a character became my favorite as hard as Marcy. She's just this adorable, autistic nerd, and I never want anything bad to happen to her. Jus', I don't even know what else I wanna say. I feel like I could gush on forever, but I think my love for her might just be that simple. I just look at her and I'm happy.

(Also, shout-outs to Maddie as my favorite non-human and non-Plantar.)

Looking ahead to the third season, well, it seems like it's gonna be doing the thing I wish The Owl House had had the time to do, so that's fun. Plus, hey, it looks like that thing from that one animatic is finally gonna show up. So, oh, boy, that's probably gonna be a lot to deal with as well.

'Coz the thing is, even though I came into this show aware of two major things from the latter half of the show (including Disney+'s thumbnail for the final episode), it's been a joy discovering how it gets to those points, and finding out all the other twists and destinations in-between. Y'know, that classic "It's not the destination, it's the journey" ordeal. Like, it wasn't as high up on my "to watch" list as The Owl House, largely thanks to how "funny frog land adventures" view from the surface, but just like The Owl House, I'm kicking myself for not getting to this sooner.

And, honestly, I might even like this a ltitle more than The Owl House? Which, I never woulda thought, 'coz that show has Eda and Lumity—and it's notlike it's a compeition, anyway,but there you go, I guess. I'm really looking forward to seeing what the third season dishes up.

I've really come a long way from Escape From Vault Disney making their episode on an episode of it all about interviewing Gunther.

[lilliad-dreams]

Heavy tw for child abuse, drowning, and alcohol abuse.

Writing under the cut! I've been working on this scene in my head for a long while, and while I'm unsure if I'm happy with the end product, and will probably end up rewriting this as it's just sort of the first draft, I wanted to post my first version!

Sitting in his studio, Henry was plagued by the whisper of nightmares. He couldn’t sleep, and why would he? It wasn’t like he had anything meaningful to rest up for. He could waste away around the comfort of his paintings, let the migraine settle in his head as he tried to fight the thoughts swirling in his mind.

Perhaps it was the mere ghost of it all- The distant memory that had Henry clenching his fists at his hips and his head pounding like the sound of hooves against gravel. He didn’t want to remember the horrors of that night, the humanity he’d lost in the span of hours. Did anyone apart from Henry know how the event carved at his very being?

Even with the headache- Henry found himself leaning into the softness of his own arms, slouched over on his desk, his eyes fluttering closed under the dim candlelight.. And a dream overtook him in his sleep.

“Henry! Look!” She’d yelp, pointing excitedly to the hopping amphibians on the surface of the water. Henry’s foolish naivety as it was, he hadn’t thought to do anything but shout at her. She was too close to the edge, her feet tapering at the foot of the water, her silky pink slippers anything but suited for the terrain.

“Mother told us to stay away from the water, Clara!” Henry had yelled back, boyish as he was, sitting at the center of the clearing. It was dark at this hour, and Clara had wanted to hear the frogs croak. Henry sat, bored, sitting against a insect infected log. Clouds floated overhead in the sky, and Henry could tell rain was upon them, should they remain outside.

"You haven't even looked yet, brother. Please?" The whine was shrill, and the teen stood with a groan. Look at the frogs, he told himself, and make the little one hush. Father would want them home soon, and the old man would surely bugger him straight for not keeping her away from the water.

"Clara, so help me god- If you've gotten wet," Henry bit his inner lip, stifling his anger. Clara was always being shoved into his arms. Henry adored his little sister, of course. Normally, Henry wouldn't be so sour. But he'd already had a row with his father, and it had gotten him bitter. Very bitter, indeed.

"No, Henry. I'm fine!" The eight year old fledgling crooned, extending a pale arm to him, beckoning him closer to see her precious frogs. "See them hop? See them, see them, see them?" She said hurriedly, pointing out to the lillipads. One of the little slimy things danced to it with agile precision, the motion spreading little ripples through the calm water. Henry wasn't impressed, but he watched, if only for his sister's delight. He did, after all, care about her.

He watched, if only momentarily, but his eyes were drawn to the flowers growing from the bushes by the lake. Beautiful petals, they had, as they sprung up in the ligrusht of day. Now, their colors were darkened, only illuminated by the light of the moon. Henry thought they thrived in the day, but they had another beauty to them in the night.

It was his slight distraction that led him astray, not noticing when Clara's footing slipped and she tripped into the water. Only when he heard the splash did he, panicked, look over to her. "Clara!" He'd shout, watching her in horror, but he did not move- Something within him stilled his body, and he could not bring himself to move. He willed himself to jump in after her, but he could not swim, he would only cause more trouble- Trouble, yes, is all his father thought of him. The son he didn't want, the accident. Henry gritted his teeth in his anguish, his panic overwhelming him, and he stifled the tears as he called out to his sister. "Clara! You must float!" He shouted. But she could not, her dismay overtook her, and she thrashed in the water, unable to find herself at the surface. The water was too deep for her to set foot on the ground, and she was weighed down by her clothes- She would drown.

Henry fell to his knees, watching in horror as his sister's cries were muted by the water, her head going underneath the horizon of the lake. She did not reemerge.

He did the only thing he could think to do, and he ran to his parents aid. He crashed into the house, akin to a rolling boulder with the intensity of which he ran inside, and gripped his father's arm by the cuff of his sleeve. "Father, father-"

His father held up his palm. "Calm yourself. It is unbecoming of a Granville." He would snap, peeling Henry's fingers from his cuff. "What is it, boy." His voice dripped with malice, as if he could not stand to even be near his second son.

Henry shook with the mixture of panic and unease. "Clara and I- We were by the lake- She fell in!"

His father's expression soured beyond the point of return. "You are not meant to go near the lake, Henry." He barked, a hand clasping over Henry's shoulder with a bruising grip.

"I know- I told her to stay away!" Henry retorted, and he was met with a growl.

"Do not back talk me, boy! You allowed her to fall in?" It was like a scene in a play, the way rain suddenly rammed against the windows, the way thunder pounded in the sky. It was theatrical, and dramatic- And terrifying. Henry could hear his mother creep behind his father, her hand sliding up his back, horror evident in her face. She did not stop her husband's abuse. His father took him by the collar, the rage pumping a blood vessel between his brows. Henry's brother crept from the hallway, watching silently, if for just a moment. "You allowed her to die?"

He was released, but his father's hands did not go still, and Henry was met with the harsh crack of his father's backhand against his cheek. Henry fell to the ground in a heap, the tears he'd been carefully stifling starting to fall. The boy, a mere five and ten, convulsed on the ground with his sobs, and his brother rushed to his side.

"Father! Stop this!" Randolph, ever perfect Randolph, cried out.

The old man had the audacity to rub his knuckles, as if he was the one truly plagued by the action. "Take him away, Dolph. Get him out of my sight." Yes- His father felt he was the one injured, while his son lay crouched on the ground, hiccuping and sobbing.

Randolph swallowed his pride and helped Henry to his room. "It wasn't your fault, Hen. It wasn't- Really-" Henry shook his head. As he collapsed in his bed, he could only hear his sister's cries.

He woke up then, every night, like clockwork. He'd hear the subtle click of the door closing, the sign that Randolph had left, and he'd wake- Adult in his time spent alive, but only in time, for his soul was still that scared little boy. So when he awoke, it was not the touch of Benedict's lips he felt or longed for, but the mighty backhand of his father.

He trudged along, his exhaustion akin to drunkenness, which was entirely suiting for a man who was rummaging through liquor bottles, searching for whatever was strongest. He popped the cork and took a mighty swig, the liquid gold burning on its way down. He seldom ever drank this way, it was ungentlemanlike- But when a man was at his wit's end, he did not care much about what wasn't gentlemanlike. Perhaps his eagerness to the alcohol was because he meant to drown his own guilt, because it was the truth he hid from.

That night was his fault.

He took another hefty swallow.

[thefictioness]

8. Toad

This work is part of a Kuroshitsuji Fictober series. For more info, click here.

This work may contain spoilers for those not up to date with the manga.

“Mother, can I please come along? Please? I promise I won’t get anywhere near the water…” The young boy looked at his mother with pleading blue eyes. His trembling lip was pouting, and he pulled on her skirt. “Are you sure it’s such a great idea? You’ve just gotten over your illness and this time of year still, even being near the water can be too much on your health.” “but I’ll be fine as long as I dress warm enough and stay on the banks of the creek. Please mommy? I want to play with Ciel!” His mother sighed. “Fine, but as soon as you’re feeling unwell we’re returning home and you’ll be on bedrest for a week again!” The boy cheered and dashed out of the room to tell his brother. Soon, they arrived at the creek. After they enjoyed a little picnic, Ciel tugged on his brother’s hand. “Come on, let’s go look for some frog spawn!” The two ran off as their mother shouted. “Don’t run off too far!” They waved at her and continued on their path until they reached a little branch-off from the creek. “Last time I went with Lizzy, there was loads of frog spawn around here,” Ciel explained as he sat down on his knees. His brother adjusted his scarf and did the same. “Does that mean there are frogs around here as well?” He asked. “Of course there are! We can try to catch those as well, but they’re usually too fast… Ah, here is some spawn!” Ciel pointed at a small puddle of goop. He gently scooped it up and showed it to his brother. “That is a lot of baby frogs!” He said. Ciel nodded as he sat it back down in the water. As he made the water ripple, some frogs leapt out of it. “Woah!” Ciel exclaimed. His brother bounced backwards. “Oof!” “Are you alright?” Ciel asked worriedly. His brother nodded. “I see what you mean with them being fast. They surprised me too…” He looked around to see where the frogs disappeared to, when he noticed something. “Look at that big one over there!” He pointed at a patch of mud, where a big, fat amphibian was perched in the morning rays coming through the trees. Ciel laughed. “You silly, that’s a toad, not a frog.” “Is there a difference?” His brother blinked in surprise. “Toads aren’t as fast as frogs, but they are bigger. And they’re not as slimy.” Ciel looked at his brother, who was getting back on his feet. “So that means we can catch it!” He said, a determined look on his face. “Are you sure it’s a good idea? Your health-” His brother cut in. “I’ll be fine as long as I stay away from the water.” Ciel, still not fully convinced, nodded and followed his brother, who slowly walked over to the toad. Making sure it didn’t notice him so he could pounce on it. “Careful…” Ciel whispered. His brother shushed him. Then, he leapt. “Gotcha!” He shouted as he caught the toad, but the creature wasn’t too agreeable. It tried to wriggle free and ultimately won that fight, causing the little boy to all over backwards and into the creek. “Oh no!” Ciel cried out as he crawled down to get his brother out of the water, who was coughing and struggling. Ciel grabbed him by his scarf and dragged him back onto the grass. “This is bad…” Ciel moaned. “What will mom and dad say when they see you like this?” “It’s my own fault… I tried to catch the toad…” His brother comforted him. “Could you… help me get back? It’s probably best to get some medicine before I get sick again….” Ciel supported his brother as they walked back to their parents. After a thorough scolding, the promised bed rest was re-established. But instead of just laying down all day in bed, Ciel made sure his little brother had something to look at. A fishbowl full of frog spawn.

[mentallyburningwaffles]

Word Boyfriends (A Frog x Duck Word World Fanfic) #1

A/N: Hey I know what you are thinking. Why am I writing a fanfic for some children’s show that literally educates babies how to read letters? Well, in a nutshell, it is a show that I’ve never got to experience in my childhood. I’m going to be 18 literally next year, but that won’t stop me from writing about my current hyper-fixation. This will be a series of fanfics that I might as well post on Tumblr. Take note that this fanfic will take place a bunch of years after the end of the series; therefore, it will be safe for work and fluffy (To be honest, I don’t do raunchy literature anyway.) Welp. Hopefully you’ll feel nostalgic reading this. ʕ ᵔᴥᵔ ʔ

It was a beautiful night in Word World, and Frog and Duck were settling down on the couch after a long day of celebrating with their friends. Now it is time to relax a little.

The living room in Frog and Duck’s log was dimly lit, which had a comfortable liking to it. The house was all cleanly and well kept from the books being on their shelves - Duck is reading a lot now that he knows his letters well, the floors were swept, the dishes are done, and dusting was already done by Frog an hour ago.

“That party was something that we’ve never done before,” exclaimed Duck. “You’ve always thrown parties around your birthday Y’know?”

“Oh yeah. It was so much fun,” recalled Frog who was wrapping an arm around Duck; Duck rested on his shoulder comfortably. “But now I’m glad it’s over.”

“But why Frog?”

The amphibian word friend smiled gently looking at his partner with nice gentle eyes. “Because I get to spend the rest of the night with you.”

The yellow feathered word friend felt light red on his cheeks, and he felt a smile coming along. He quacked happily snuggling with his lover hugging his waist; Frog croaked in happy pleasure.

“Angel,” Duck said. “You make me the most happiest duck in Word World.”

“And you make me the most happiest Frog in Word World, too.”

They both sat embracing the moment of affection and comfort. They have always cuddled with each other and exchanged a few kisses here and there, and they both like being together. That’s why they’re boyfriends.

“I will say I’m in a mood for some leftover ice cream right now,” Frog said as he played with Duck’s hair feathers gently. “And then we can read your favorite book ‘Duck Saves the Day’.”

Before Duck could say anything else, a loud boom came from outside. It crackled and popped just like rice cereal when the milk gets on top of it, and Duck’s face turned from joyful to frightened. His eyes shrank, his smile went away, and he was gripping tight on Frog’s waist.

Frog looked outside from the window noticing that little drops of water was coming at a fast, fast pace - it was not pretty at all from the sounds that the sky made. He croaked and looked back to see his love curled up into a ball with the expression of fear streaking his face; therefore, he knew that he had to do something.

“Honey.” Frog calmly hopped towards Duck sitting next to him. He whispered “Hey. Is-is it okay if I help? What are you feeling?”

Duck was breathing a bit quicker than usual. Instead of steady breaths, he was breathing at a quicker speed with his hand over his chest. Frog was highly concerned and a bit fearful, but he had to understand what’s going on.

“I don’t want it to get me,” Duck shouted with each breath he took.

Frog was panicking on the inside and felt like he needed to do something, so he knew the first thing he had to do whenever Duck felt a strong emotion that he cannot control. He ran towards the bedroom and got the weighted blanked out from the bed that the couple usually sleep in.

He hopped back shushing him reminding Duck that he’s there. The poor word friend was shivering, and his body temperature was low.

“Duck,” Frog spoke softly bringing the love of his life closer near his chest. “I know you feel something, but I think I understand what’s going on.” He looked out the window and back at him. “You must be frightened by the loud noises of the thunderstorm outside, right?”

Duck glanced at him with tear streaked eyes and responded. “Yes. I’m feeling scared, and terrified too. I don’t like the storm. The noise scares me.” He nuzzles him on the neck still quivering. “I don’t want it to get me.”

Frog nuzzled his hair like feathers as if he’s petting Dog, a friend of everyone in Word World. He closed his eyes softly and took a deep breath of sorrow: he feels sad when his babe is upset. He felt rocks in his stomach and a verge of tears, and he remembers how the rain made him feel like he almost lost who he loved best.

“I understand how heavy that feeling is,” Frog recalled. “I remember when I couldn’t come to play with you because I was so scared of the rain. You know my skin feels uneasy and slimy when it touches me.” He lifts Duck’s chin up lightly like how a leaf gets picked up by the wind. “And I was afraid of telling you how I felt because I felt frightened by the fact that would laugh at me. But you helped me.” He smiled. “You built me a coat with the C and the O and A along with a T. I’ve never so excited about water my whole entire life!”

“Yeah. I remember,” Duck wiped the tears from his face - as a result, his eyes seemed a little bit red. “I felt so happy that you came out to play again. I liked riding that boat with Goat. He gave us some great advice: always follow where your hearts lead.”

The amphibian word boyfriend nodded in agreement and chuckled a bit. “I remember that advice too.”

The loud boom came again. BOOM! BOOM! Crackle…

Still Duck held him snug and warm like a huge Build a Bear stuffed animal. His breathing was at a normal motion, he felt safe with the weighted blanket around him, his body temperature was warm. He felt comfortable. Frog felt the rocky feeling from his stomach lift up and he felt a warm feeling that can’t be explained but felt through his heart; therefore, the feeling was security and understanding.

“Yes. I think I did it all right,” he thought. “No actually, I did it well. I think we deserve what we needed in the first place: ice cream and a book.” Then he asked Duck, “How ‘bout we read whatever story you want?”

Duck lightened up. “Yeah. How about those poems me and you are working on in that journal?”

“Okay. Whatever you like,” Frog agreed. “I’ll get us the ice cream.”

[noisygardendragon]

Shout out to my amphibian ancestors

Y'all ever just suddenly have the overwhelming urge to swim??? Like not actively but you just wanna,,, be in the water and have some Peace

[farotrails]

curiosity, or why Doug Tallamy needs to be required reading

I.

I'm a firm believer that environmental advocacy should include personal shifts in our own ethics and actions. (It doesn't help that science isn't considered important even when it's the explanation of foundational structure for every living thing.) The shift starting at home is explained pretty eloquently (more than me!) by Doug in his first two books Bringing Nature Home (2007) and Nature's Best Hope (2016). Kill your fuckin' lawn, and learn about the interconnectedness of every single living thing in your fuckin' lawn. Those books are a great entry to the movement and are a genuinely fun read. Motherfuckers just don't consider that the 1 3/8" uniform grass blades and their one invasive yew bush are actively harming the environment and climate that the motherfuckers may otherwise support. Pervasive ignorance, or (more politely) unawareness, or (the big one, IMO) lack of curiosity.

II.

Go step outside and take a look for two minutes. And don't just glaze over. Actually observe your surroundings, for two minutes.

What does this grass do for surrounding organisms? What was the context of its evolution? Why is it here, in this spot, right now? Now zoom in, or out, or pan sideways. There's another living thing right there, with the same set of questions and likely a completely different trajectory and set of pressures that delivered the beetle, or planthopper, or turtle, or polar bear to the place you're observing it now. Get into the habit of asking those questions and being curious (there it is again) about researching the answers. You won't always find those answers (shouts out fungi, I'm just now finding out how spore prints can be a diagnostic characteristic) and that's okay. It's still supporting scientific literacy and the knock-on effects of being Smart, and putting you in a position to be empathetic to the natural world that humans so viciously take for granted.

III.

I'm currently killing my god damn lawn. Big ass mulch pile and planning out hardscaping. And the whole way I'm observing insects, birds, mushrooms, all sorts of plants, mollusks, and even a handful of herps. Each of the native organisms has a reason for evolving into this system, and as a landowner (shouts out privilege and also Indiana for being cheap as shit) I have a very serious responsibility to support the non-human organisms that evolved into the space I'm occupying.

Now that sounds pretty bleak, and it may be in some circumstances, but it also feels really fuckin' good to see nature thrive in a plot where it previously hadn't. I live pretty rurally, on a karst ridgeline surrounded by a forest of oak, beech, maple, and at least one aspen. In this space I've found a real love for amphibians and especially Plethodontidae salamanders.

Indiana has the most polluted waterways per some-metric-of-water-flowage-that-I-don't-want-to-research-again in the country. The lovely little Plethodontidae family don't have lungs; these cute fuckers breath by absorbing oxygen via wet skin. Think about that system in the context of huge polluted, like can't catch and eat more than one fish a month because of PCB contamination polluted, and these dudes are thriving in pockets. Plethodon dorsalis, the Northern Zig-Zag Salamander seen above, is an especially good litmus. They're mostly restricted to the forests surrounding fairly isolated mountain flows of the Smokies and southern Appalachians. Those waterways contributing to zig-zag ecosystems are notable for being home for endemic evolutionary cases - species that exist solely in one little hole in one little stream. Plethodon dorsalis is terrestrial and not restricted to just those waterways, but their prevalence in central and eastern Tennessee makes presence in south-central Indiana (the northwestern edge of their range) a welcome oddity, and a sign that the conditions can be improved well-enough where breathing isn't instantly poisoning these tiny buddies.

IV.

This was all an excuse to ramble about salamanders, and stewardship, and getting outdoors and fucking looking. Learn about your surroundings. It might turn into a lifelong interest, or hobby, or even contribute to groundbreaking research that can support an entire ecosystem. It all comes down to curiosity first and foremost. Leaning in, asking why, and finding out the answers. And becoming a more compassionate person along the way.