#Wildlife Fact-File

[chickie-birdies]

My favorite thing is when I see a photo of a random bird and go "this particular bird name popped into my head, I wonder if that's what this bird is" and look it up and I'm right. Oh yeah. 27 years staring at bird books have not been wasted. 😎

[tenderanarchist]

U guys remember these things? I’ve retained so many childhood animal facts from these bad boys

[wandering-wolf23]

It will never not be wild to me how Tumblr excuses a cow blog that keeps their animals in feedlot conditions without hoof care, yet has a shit fit about licensed, screened sanctuaries.

[botanyshitposts]

ok INCREDIBLY old content originally meant for this blog but in 2018 when i was just a wee lad with a little spinner propeller hat and big rainbow lollipop i went to a carnivorous plant convention in california and met a bunch of people who breed/collect/study these guys. one person was this collector who was slowly working on leaving the hobby or at least no longer growing plants, and he had a bunch of carnivorous plant related files he was charging like 50 cents for or something, and so i came into possession of these, which are examples of the kind of paperwork you have to have done to legally ship/trade endangered species of both plants and animals. functionally very boring paperwork, but something i found like, incredibly fascinating. i blacked out the personal id of the person and then immediately forgot to ever upload them, lmao.

these plants were bred and raised in a greenhouse and sold abroad, not taken from the wild, but because the species are endangered and often protected in their native countries (most of these are nepenthes, asian pitcher plants, a huge family spread throughout oceania and southeast asia), there's a lot more documentation that needs to be done regardless of their origin, both on the end of the seller and on the end of the buyer.

the rabbit hole on carnivorous plant trade is deep and kind of wild. there's plenty of common, non-threatened, greenhouse-grown pitcher plants on the market that people buy all the time, even non-collectors, but there's a whole debate to be had on if it's morally okay to be collecting the more endangered/rare of these plants in the first place. the big argument for breeding is that breeding them in captivity means there's more supply that's not poached from the wild, meaning poachers have less of an incentive to take the risk of taking adult plants from their habitats; from what i've heard, sometimes countries will issue permits for breeders to collect some wild seeds just to create a non-wild breeding pool to drive down the price. predictably, however, you also get people who are very much willing to pay a lot of money to get as rare of a plant as possible.

anyone familiar with the allure valuable plants have had over people throughout history can imagine the rest, but here's an article about a guy who started buying poached plants to enrich his private nepenthes collection, who then got busted by a fish and wildlife service agent embedded in his carvirorous plant circle. the plants this guy was buying were being sold to him without any CITES paperwork or declarations like the ones above; it was literally just a guy in indonesia taking rare plants from the woods around where he lived, selling them over facebook marketplace and ebay, and mailing them overseas as an undeclared 'gift' to get around customs. frighteningly small steps to take on all sides, to be honest.

(also, fun fact: another example of carnivorous plants that get poached are wild venus fly traps, which are only native to north and south carolina in the US. from what i understand it's a mix of people who genuinely did not know it's a native species and people who really are just going out into the woods and digging up plants to sell online. sometimes poaching is closer to home than you'd think!)

anyway. wild and interesting times in the land of plants recovered from a hard drive lmao

[marigoldendragon]

I made some twst oc's to rep some of our Australian animals! The art is *very* rough but this has been sitting in my work in progress folder for like a month so GOOD ENOUGH. Plus some bonus facts about our animals because a lot of my design and character choices were based of the animals themselves and I wanted to give people some context. Bazza was also based off my memories of a typical teenage boy in Aus. But I clearly don't have a high opinion of teenage boys here because he ended up a very unpleasant character XD I filed him down so much and he's still rough around the edges :P

And yes! I have seen a blue ringed octopus in the wild! My fool of a school teacher was gently poking it with a knife to get it to glow blue. Like bruh. Your supposed to be supervising these kids not riling up dangerous wildlife we might accidentally step on.

I also wanted to make a fae character based around thylacines, as fae are rare and thylacines are extinct (thank you shithead white colonialists of the past), but .... I'm tired :P

[kenzirr]

part 2 to the spencer imagine

@levi-of-starz

The BAU office was bustling as usual, agents hurrying about with case files and paperwork. Spencer Reid sat at his desk, engrossed in a book, when he suddenly looked up, a thought clearly lighting up his face.

"Did you know that the world's smallest bird, the bee hummingbird, weighs less than a penny?" Spencer announced to the room. "It's native to Cuba and measures just 2.25 inches from beak to tail."

Morgan, who was passing by, stopped and raised an eyebrow. "That's pretty cool, Reid. What got you thinking about hummingbirds?"

Spencer smiled. "It’s one of the facts Y/N shared with me the other night. We've been trading trivia back and forth, and it got me thinking. I want you all to meet her."

Garcia's eyes lit up as she walked over. "Oh, that sounds fantastic! When do we get to meet her?"

Spencer thought for a moment. "How about we arrange a dinner? I could invite Y/N, and we can all get together. I think she’d love to meet all of you."

JJ nodded enthusiastically. "I think that's a great idea. A nice team dinner would be perfect."

Hotch looked up from his desk, considering. "Sounds like a plan. I'll bring Jack along since I can't leave him alone."

Spencer smiled, feeling a wave of excitement and nervousness. "Great. I'll talk to Y/N and set everything up."

---

A few days later, the team gathered at Rossi's mansion, which he had graciously offered for the dinner. The dining room was elegantly set with a long mahogany table covered in a pristine white tablecloth. Crystal wine glasses sparkled under the chandelier's soft light, and the aroma of Italian cuisine filled the air as Rossi finished preparing the meal.

The centerpiece was an arrangement of fresh flowers, and each place setting had a small, handwritten name card. Spencer had even placed a few fun facts under each plate as conversation starters.

Y/N arrived a little after Spencer, looking both excited and a bit nervous. Spencer introduced her to everyone, and the team welcomed her warmly.

"Y/N, this is Derek Morgan," Spencer started, gesturing to Morgan.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Morgan said with a grin. "Spencer’s told us a lot about you."

"And this is Penelope Garcia," Spencer continued.

Garcia gave Y/N a big hug. "So nice to finally meet you, lovely! You look even more wonderful than Spencer described."

Spencer then introduced JJ, Rossi, and finally Hotch and his son Jack. Jack, clutching a small toy car, smiled shyly at Y/N.

"Hi, Jack," Y/N said, crouching down to his level. "What’s your toy’s name?"

Jack beamed. "This is Lightning McQueen. He’s really fast."

"Nice to meet you, Lightning," Y/N said, shaking the toy car's "hand."

They all sat down at the table, and Rossi brought out the first course: bruschetta topped with fresh tomatoes, basil, and a drizzle of balsamic glaze.

"Y/N, I hope you like Italian food," Rossi said, smiling. "I made some of my favorite dishes tonight."

Y/N took a bite of the bruschetta and her eyes lit up. "This is amazing, Rossi. Thank you so much for having me."

As they ate, the conversation flowed easily. Spencer couldn't resist sharing another fact. "Did you know that tomatoes were once thought to be poisonous? In the 18th century, people called them 'poison apples' because they believed the aristocracy got sick and died after eating them, but it was actually the lead in their pewter plates reacting with the tomato acid."

JJ laughed. "That's fascinating, Spencer. I never knew that."

Y/N joined in, sharing one of her own facts. "Did you know that butterflies taste with their feet? They have taste sensors on their legs and feet to help them find food."

Garcia's eyes widened. "That's amazing! I love butterflies, and I had no idea."

The main course was served: homemade lasagna, rich with layers of cheese, meat, and sauce. As they dug in, Hotch shared a story about a recent camping trip with Jack, and Jack excitedly talked about the wildlife they saw.

"Y/N," Garcia said, "how did you and Spencer meet?"

Y/N smiled, glancing at Spencer. "We met at a bookstore, actually. We were both reaching for the same book – a biography of Alan Turing."

Morgan chuckled. "Of course you were. That sounds like a perfect Reid story."

As they moved on to dessert – a decadent tiramisu – Rossi raised his glass. "To a wonderful evening."

Everyone clinked their glasses, and Spencer felt a warmth spread through him. The night had gone perfectly, and he couldn't have been happier.

After dinner, as Spencer walked Y/N to her car, she turned to him with a smile. "Your team is wonderful, Spencer. I had a great time tonight."

"Me too," Spencer replied, his heart racing. "Thank you for coming. It meant a lot to me."

Y/N leaned in, and Spencer met her halfway, their lips touching in a kiss that was soft and sweet. As the kiss deepened, Spencer felt a surge of warmth and happiness, losing himself in the moment.

Unbeknownst to them, the team had gathered near the window, watching the scene unfold. Garcia was the first to giggle, followed by a series of playful whispers and chuckles from the rest of the group.

Morgan couldn't resist. He opened the door slightly and called out, "Get a room, you two!"

Spencer and Y/N broke apart, both blushing furiously as they turned to see the team grinning at them from the doorway.

Garcia added, "We just wanted to make sure you didn't forget to say goodnight!"

Spencer, still flustered, managed a sheepish smile. "Thanks, guys."

Y/N squeezed his hand, looking equally embarrassed but happy. "Goodnight, everyone. Thanks for a wonderful evening."

As she drove away, Spencer turned back to his team, who were still chuckling and exchanging knowing looks.

Hotch clapped Spencer on the shoulder. "I think she’s a keeper, Reid."

Spencer nodded, his heart full. "Yeah, I think so too."

[variouspositions1984]

tagged by @grahamkennedy ❤️❤️

tagging @libertineprophet @firewalkwithmedvd @tilling @phaggotetta @dafttpunk but only if you wanna no presh xx

[payeehay]

From the “Real Scientists” AU, in which the Fenton parents finally accept that ghosts aren’t evil - because they come to the incorrect conclusion that they’re not sapient.* This becomes a major problem when they capture Phantom and attempt to train him, like an animal.

They keep him in the lab, use modern wildlife handling techniques (restraints, blindfolds, acclimation, reinforcement training, etc), and if it were, in fact, an animal ghost, they would be doing a great job.

But it’s not.

*This partially stems from ghosts being more animalistic in appearance than canon, as well as only being able to speak ghost speak.

---

AU credit to @lemon-snake and @fan-stuff-and-things

---

There were footsteps on the stairs.

Danny perked up, listened.

Vlad? No, he never bothered to walk when he "visited".

His parents? It was true that time had lost nearly all meaning since the blindfold had been introduced, but it didn't feel like morning, and it didn't sound like either of them.

Whoever it was reached the bottom of the stairs and started crossing the lab toward his cage, and he backed up the few feet it took to get his back against the far wall.

God, he wished he could see.

"Danny?" Jazz whispered, and he almost started crying. He crossed the cage to join her, and when she put a hand on his head, he didn't even try to stop himself from nuzzling up into it.

"Oh my god, are you- Well, I know you're not okay, but- How are you, little brother?"

He purred, leaning up against the bars. Better now.

"I can only stay for a little while," she told him, and then, "Here, turn around."

He didn't know exactly what she was going to do, but he trusted her, so he stayed still as she worked behind him, taking off his blindfold, his muzzle. "I'm going to have to put these back before I leave," she reluctantly informed him, in the dim lights of the emergency exit sign and the portal indicator, and he grumbled, a quiet acknowledgment. She unclipped his cuffs, and when he finally stretched, it felt so good that a few tears did slip out of his eyes, free to roll down his face for the first time in so long.

And then he reached through the bars and pulled her closer, until he could wrap his arms around her, and she hugged him back, chest to bars to chest, until she finally pulled away and sat on the floor in front of him, prompting him to do the same.

For a while, they stayed like that, side by side, hand in hand. She told him about school, about how Sam and Tucker were doing, showed him a video of a meteor shower they'd had recently, promised him that they'd watch the next one together.

"Oh! Before I forget. A gift for you, from Tucker and Sam."

She started pulling something out of her pocket, and his mind immediately went to nail files baked into prison cakes. But no, what she pulled out was a folded piece of paper, tiny marker dots bleeding through the back.

He craned his neck to get a better view, but she was intentionally keeping it's backside to him as she pulled out a roll of tape and affixed a piece to it, as if teasing him. As if trying to give him something to look forward to, even if only for a few seconds.

Finally, she turned the paper around, and in Sam's chunky handwriting, it read,

GAY BABY JAIL <3

Jazz stuck the paper to one of the bars, and Danny laughed for the first time in far too long.

---

(Can I write anything serious for this au? Apparently not)

[banisheed]

TIMING: Recent LOCATION: Wicked's Rest State Park PARTIES: Nicole (@nicsalazar) & Siobhan (@banisheed) SUMMARY: Nicole must deal with a stranger who claims to be boning. CONTENT: no warnings

It was a good day to get boned. If Siobhan was being technical, which she was wont to do, it was always a good day to bone. Boning was an art she had perfected; no one boned like she did. Today, she was boning in the state park, which was her favorite place to bone considering that the likelihood of a human interrupting her intimate boning sessions was low. She liked to bone in peace, was that so wrong? A banshee ought to be allowed her private boning sessions. In some ways, maybe she was glad to be out of Ireland; there was no peace to be had boning there. If you wanted to bone, there were half a dozen other banshees that eyed that same place for boning. Siobhan had fought banshees off enough femurs to understand the relief of a solo bone session. Yes! It was wonderful to be here, in this horrible country, in this city that she didn’t care for, far away from home, boning! Indeed, it was a good day to get boned.

The firecracker pop of a branch behind her stirred her attention up like a prey animal; Siobhan stared between the tree trunks. The sun hit the tip of her steel trowel, shooting a ray into her eye. She groaned and dropped it and with it, the phalanx she’d just dug up. Blind, she groped around for her bone-bag—the banshees of Ireland would descend on her treasures with hunger and the instincts of boning were hard to dislodge. She caught the strap of the black duffel bag and yanked it towards her. The results of her boning tumbled out: a mandible, a sternum, a tibia, even a pubis. It was, after all, a good day to get bones. She hadn’t identified them yet, she wanted to be in the comfort of her own home, out of the heat. She didn’t dress for the weather, she never dressed for the weather. Today she dressed like she planned on robbing a bank: black cargo pants (pockets for bones) and a black turtleneck (bones could be kept in the collar) and black gloves (she just liked gloves). Maybe she would rob a bank later, the day was still young.

She stood up quickly, kicking aside her tools. “I’m trying to bone,” Siobhan said, aggrieved. It didn’t occur to her that boning meant something else to the humans. She only knew the true meaning of the word: the way that she used it. “This is a park; I’m allowed to bone here.” In truth, she didn’t know if she was, but she also didn’t care either way. In fact, it was more desirable to her if she wasn’t allowed to. She’d gone off the trails thinking it would make finding her impossible. The sun cleaved her eyes, and even holding her hand up and squinting, she couldn’t make out the figure approaching. How had someone found her? This spot radiated death; something big was buried beneath her feet and she wanted it. 

The pockets of her cargo pants were also good for knives. Her hand crept towards one on her thigh.

—

Nicole was at the station filing incident reports moments when her radio pinged. She stopped swaying on her chair and leaned forward, picking up the device and snatching a pen in case she needed to write something down. It wasn’t abnormal to move around the park, take on different roles, put out different fires. The crew was too reduced due to the dangerous conditions to stick to one job only. Most days, she was everywhere: the stations, the trails, the exhibitions, the gift shops, as were the other rangers, adapting to different demands. Whether it was injured wildlife, or issues at different campsites, or a collapsed trail, Nicole had to be ready to answer the calls and do her best to solve problems.

Some calls, admittedly, were less common than that. Hastings was radioing her to inform her about a suspicious looking figure, dressed in all black, venturing away from the marked area of the Whispering trail. He spotted it while guiding a group of tourists around the park and couldn’t turn around to deal with it. He trusted her to figure out what was happening. Hardly sounded like something to worry about, so Nicole ended the call, grabbed the keys to the vehicle and set out in the direction of the Whispering trail.

When she was there, it was a matter of finding the mysterious figure. She parked at the trailhead and continued by foot, aiding herself with her heightened senses to pinpoint human presence in the area. The footprints helped too. They suggested an odd choice of footwear to be trekking in the park. Perhaps, Hasting was correct in his assumption that there was more to this than a hiker with a love for the color black. Nicole walked slowly, quietly, knowing it was in her best interest to be silent around the trail. It didn’t get its name for no reason. But the fucking branch she stepped on had different plans. Fucking— She froze, gaze shifting amidst the trees, waiting on something to pounce. Blood pounded in her ears, until a feminine voice came through. Nicole decided against yelling at her to keep her mouth shut, because at least, the suspicious black figure revealed her location.   

Nicole wasn’t alarmed by the woman admitting her intentions for the hike. Slightly weirded out, sure, but not alarmed. Couples looking for intimate places in the forest— she’d encountered a few of them, unfortunately. It was always awkward and embarrassing for everybody involved. For her sake, Nicole hoped the woman and whoever she was with had all their clothes on. The sun breaking through the cracks illuminated the dirt path ahead of her, and Nicole trudged through the bushes and overgrown roots following the sound of the woman’s voice until she was in front of her. All black clothing in place, thank fucking god. However, nobody else accompanied her, and Nicole wondered if she misunderstood what was happening. 

She rubbed her jaw, closing her eyes for a second. Did she spot a tool on the forest floor? And a duffel bag? Bones? Yeah, it didn’t make any sense. Her shoulders screamed from the tension building. It was going to be one of those days. Ma’am, she hesitated before continuing to rehearse what she wanted to say. She was likely to test out a few options before opening her mouth. The woman didn’t look much older than she was. Some found that level of respect uncomfortable. Nicole found all levels of socialization uncomfortable. She opened her eyes, “Good—” fuck, what time it was, was it past noon? “Good…uh, m— yeah.” Worst of all, the woman looked familiar. Where would she know that kind of woman from? The fruit aisle at the grocery store? The pet store? A bar? Nicole’s options were limited.

Didn’t matter, she was going to handle this. “Don’t suppose you got a… reasonable explanation for—” she eyed the bag pointedly. No, reason didn’t exist in this town. When would she learn? “If you trying to bury your trash, we got places for that. Will show you, it’s called— the trash can.” She would worry about the trash in question being bones later. She was resolving one issue at the time. 

—

“Trash?” Siobhan huffed; the insult stabbed her as though she were the trash in question. The insult worked in layers, much like trash itself: the insinuation that Siobhan would litter, the insinuation that bones were trash, the insinuation that she didn’t know what a trash can was. A cloud passed overhead and Siobhan sighed, relieved that the sun’s unrelenting light was paused. In the temporary dimness, Siobhan regarded the human. She looked familiar. Where did she know her from? The grocery store? The pet store? A bar? Siobhan’s options were rather limited. She didn’t know her from any graveyards; the only people she met there were dead and the woman was—sadly—not dead. However, the state of living was mutable. Siobhan’s various knives sang a resounding “use me” in her head but there was something gaudy about a stabbing in a place like this. This state park seemed to beg for some cliff-pushing. 

“This….ealaín isn’t trash.” Siobhan gestured to everything scattered at her feet. The cloud moved along and the sun returned and suddenly Siobhan drew a conclusion as to the woman’s familiarity: she was dressed just like the strange, unfashionable humans that dotted the park. It was some sort of cult, she guessed. A strange cult that seemed to boast authority over the trees. They told her things she never listened to, such as how she wasn’t allowed to write messages in ‘red paint’ around campsites. Like the woman, they insulted her with their insinuations. She’d never be so tacky as to use red paint, it was blood. “The only trash here is your clothes. You look like you’re going to have a business meeting with a squirrel.” And she looked like she’d lose the meeting and the squirrel would run off with all her money. 

“And I do have a ‘reasonable explanation’: I’m boning. I said that. Don’t look at me like you don’t know what being boned is. I could bone you but…” She eyed her silly outfit up and down; she didn’t even want her bones. Siobhan waved her hand out, shooing the woman like an animal. “Go on. This is sexy woman business.” Siobhan paused. “Actually, do you happen to know where the nearest cliff is?” She grinned. “Say, one as big as—oh, for example, if one were to push you off it, one where you would die a slow and delicious death? One about that tall?” She imagined shattered spines. 

—

Nicole was on the slower side intellect wise. Stupid, but aware, if such a distinction could be made. Possibly why she managed to fool a couple of her coworkers into believing she was more capable than she was. Her eyes, however, worked perfectly, better than most. So the woman’s clarification was both unwanted and unnecessary. Sure didn’t stop her from opening her mouth, though. Why would it? “It’s— bones, I know—” she interjected, a hint of irritation edging her words. Did the woman believe her actions would somehow make more sense to Nicole by clarifying the bag’s contents? 

Her forehead creased, frown more pronounced when she heard the comment on her uniform. Nicole wasn’t going to let her get on her nerves. She wasn’t. This was absurd. But it didn’t stop the growing annoyance slowly replacing her confusion. The muscle in her jaw jumped as she clenched her teeth. “What are you— Squirrels don’t—” She buried the rest of the sentence with a sharp exhale. The woman was right, and Nicole hated it. Almost as much as she fucking hated the uniform, it was beside the point. She had to wear it no matter what. At least summertime allowed her to swap the button-up for a T-shirt. Not switching to shorts, though. She would never wear those. Thankfully, she left the hat in the vehicle. If she already looked stupid, she didn’t want to know what commentary the woman would have on that. 

The conversation was going nowhere. The stranger repeated her initial explanation, and Nicole should’ve seen it coming. “Right— You keep saying that like it makes sense” boning was sex, no? Even she knew the term. Unless definitions changed drastically during the years the jaguar trapped her in the zoo. The woman wasn’t here for that, no. But she had bones with her— A heaviness set behind her eyes. Some connection existed there, but where? What the fuck was she planning to do with— Her eyes widened. Did… did the woman…shoo her? 

Somebody else would’ve been offended or hurt by the diss. Nicole didn’t have the time or the energy to care about her appearance. She knew it wasn’t an issue. If anything, after all those years the jaguar exiled her from her own body, she was thankful she had one at all. Regardless of how the woman liked it or not. “In that case, we should both go then,” she grumbled, pointing back to the trail with a curt nod of her head. Whatever attractiveness this woman did or didn’t possess was repelled by her attitude. She wasn’t sane, that became evident. Who would bluntly admit wanting to kill somebody? Nicole took her murder intentions calmly, brain trying to piece together a reasonable explanation. It was impossible not to wonder about the woman’s mental well-being. Did she lick one of the mushrooms around the park? Happened twice last week, that they knew of. Rangers didn’t put nearly enough signs to discourage visitors. 

She reached for her radio, and considered calling Hastings, rope another ranger or two. But she didn’t act on it, thumb hooking on the belt instead. Nicole was capable of handling one odd woman. The park was full of them. But she couldn’t figure out if this one was dangerous or simply a nuisance. She wasn’t going to disclose cliff locations, logically, but half an idea formed in her head. “Don’t know, maybe I do,” for once her lack of facial expressions would help. “Been to every summit in the park. But— You don’t sound like the kind of person I’d— share that with. Don’t wanna be pushed off a cliff, you understand.” she glanced at the bones scattered on the ground. The size ruled out they belonged to humans. “Why don’t you explain what you do with the bones first?” 

—

Siobhan wasn’t sure that she liked this woman. She had a nasty habit of cutting her own sentences off, which was irritating, but on the other hand it meant she didn’t have to hear a full sentence from her, which was nice. In the end, it left a confusing taste in her mouth. The only words she enjoyed hearing were “yes” and “you’re sexy”; the woman gave her a lot of “no” and inane questions. “It’s boning. I’m being boned. These are bones.” Was it so hard to understand? Human minds always seemed to be shrinking; it must’ve been all the Ticky-Toks and processed foods. Any big, wrinkly brained human would’ve fallen to their knees weeping, praising her beauty and cutting the bones out of their bodies themselves. 

Siobhan stumbled back, pierced by the unfashionable-woman’s words. She crushed a phalanx under her wilderness-inappropriate heels. “What do you mean I don’t sound like someone you want to share a large, dangerous cliffside with?” She could understand the sentiment, she hardly wanted to share one with herself, but to be told that so brazenly was a shock. “I’ll have you know I’m very…very…” Very what? By her own doing, she wasn’t friendly. She enjoyed the sound of her voice too much to care to listen to other people. She was impatient, irritable, and arrogant. She didn’t like herself, she didn’t make herself into someone to be liked; she wasn’t meant to be enjoyed, she wasn’t born to be palatable. “Very sexy,” she said, as though it made her agreeable. It did to some people. The shallowness of humans was, ironically, a deep well for her to pull from. When it didn’t work, there was nothing to reach for. 

“I collect them,” she admitted with a measure of shyness; honesty tended to make her blush. “I—what do you mean you wouldn’t share a cliff with me? I’m very—maybe I didn’t want to share a cliff with you anyway.” Siobhan’s hands curled to fists at her side. Why did this suddenly bother her so much? To be the sort of woman that couldn’t be trusted around a cliff was the sort of woman she wanted to be. Yet, to be told so, to have it admitted to her…. There was no control here, Siobhan told herself. Yes, that was it. She needed control and this woman took it from her by deciding she wouldn’t show her a cliff. Siobhan was a contrarian; yes, that was it. She liked to do the opposite of a thing. If the woman said she wasn’t the sort to share a cliff with, then Siobhan wanted to be the sort. Yes, yes, all of this was it, and nothing more. Nothing else. 

“I wouldn’t push you off a cliff today,” she said. Tomorrow though, probably. And any day after that, definitely. “Why don’t you…” Siobhan tried to smile the nice way, not in her usual smirk. Her cheeks ached; was she doing it right? “Why don’t you show me one? I love a nice vantage point. I’m a little like a bird in that way.” Her mind flicked to Jade and the I-Piss. Jade would show her a cliff. “Are you familiar with Nelly Furtado? No, never mind, that’s not relevant.” Siobhan knelt, picking up the worn skull of some bird. She strode towards the woman, displaying the delicate bone in the palm of her hand. “‘We are the birds that stay.’ To see the blue horizon is a simple pleasure; the tops of trees like wild nests. This land is beautiful, don’t you worship it? Don’t you want to share it with a soul seeking salvation?” And as she believed that the woman’s attire meant she was a part of the strange tree authority cult, she meant the question with complete sincerity. 

—

“Sure… not seeing the—” What was the word Nicole was searching for— what did sexiness have to do with bones, boning or anything? “Correlation, don’t see the correlation.” And she doubted whatever explanation the other woman provided would be satisfactory. She expected more confusing words, strange behaviors and dead threats from her. “Sounds exactly like I said. Wouldn’t share a cliff with you.” Yet she had the nerve to be offended by Nicole’s negative to share information on the park’s landscape. And why the fuck was the word sexy being uttered again? Was this— a prank? Hastings' call was strange from the start, she should’ve read more into it. But why? Was there some noteworthy date she forgot about? She was fairly confident her birthday already passed. Sometime in— June?

She glanced at the woman, looking and sounding far less theatrical when she spoke again. Was that it? “Ah,” Nicole said to fill the silence she required to process the information. Collecting. That was less odd. People collected weird shit all the time, didn’t they? Museums collected bones too. Why the fuck wouldn’t she say so from the start? She remembered Yadiel, when he was ten, going through a phase where he kept all those stickers on fruit. Her mom didn’t find it so amusing when he stuck them in the closet drawer, though. She didn’t know what to do with the sudden memory of her brother. She didn’t want it, not now. If only that was something she could control. “Shouldn’t you— collect them somewhere safe?” not a closet drawer, or the middle of the forest. “They’ll get stolen here—” she trailed off, eyes drifting to the duffel bag, then the tool. 

Something else clicked. Possibly, the one thing that should’ve clicked from the start. She wasn’t collecting them inside the park, she was here to pick up new items for the collection. “Ah,” Nicole breathed again, embarrassment flushing her neck. She was unsure if the explanation was reasonable like she wanted it but— she appreciated the truth. “Alright,” she accepted it, a new assortment of questions quickly spinning in her head. How could the woman find so many bones in the short time she was in the park? Were collectors that talented? She didn’t ask any. She hated the phrase “ignorance is bliss” but— sometimes. Only sometimes, she could see value in it. 

Why was the woman switching back? Acting as if Nicole was wronging her for not wanting to die. She was used to being confused, but this was completely different territory. “What? You don’t want to share a cliff. You wanted to push me off it,” and why, were those words she had to speak out loud? She frowned, looking more perplexed by the second. Her face would freeze like that, surely, if she continued to talk to the woman. At least the murder offer was put on the back burner. For one day. Nicole liked that, she very much wanted to live. The breath that caught in her throat felt like a laugh, but why would she laugh about anything the absurd woman said? 

Deciding it was safe to go ahead and take the visitor where she wanted, and hoping it had all been an acute case of miscommunication, Nicole opened her mouth to agree. Before she could, the woman picked up something from the ground and walked toward her, carrying it in the palm of her hand. What was this, was she being offered a bone? “Not touching that,” her lips pressed into a thin line, her best attempt at a polite smile. Her eyes landed on the bone, briefly, because the alternative was staring at the strange woman who five minutes ago wanted to murder her. More words were spoken, and it was uncomfortable. Was she— was that poetry? A song? Who the fuck was Nelly Furtado? Was it the woman’s name? She was receptive to the tone, however, despite all the fancy words making it hard to follow. She chanced a glance, and to her surprise, the woman looked sincere. She supposed her voice wasn’t nearly as grating when she wasn’t dishing out dead threats either. 

But they were talking too much, Nicole was increasingly aware of the fact. She didn’t want to do that in this particular trail. And risk drawing one of those creatures the trail was infamous for. “Pick up your stuff, I’ll—” she let out a defeated sigh, “there’s one close. Not great for pushing— one of the best views, though,” the bed of bushes directly underneath didn’t leave her mind either. Precautions. She waited until the woman grabbed all her bones to move. She was not walking ahead, offering her back to be shoved when she least expected it. “You know— Nobody would think anything of you if you weren’t… dressed like that.”  

—

To reject a gifted bone was a terrible insult in banshee culture. Possibly because it was extremely difficult for a banshee to deny the liberation of a bone and so it must’ve meant that the other banshee was deeply and truly hated. This human couldn’t have known what she did, but Siobhan was wounded nonetheless. No one had ever rejected her bones before and she felt that even Regan would’ve accepted it. Siobhan slipped the skull away into one of her many cargo pant pockets where it clinked harmlessly against the other tiny bones there. She searched for her usual haughty anger but grasped only at hurt. It was a nice bone and she’d offered a line of poetry with it. Siobhan strode back to her bag, hips swinging as she was still in heels and the ground was uneven and she never learned how to walk like she wasn’t trying to seduce the air. She knelt down and stuffed her bones back into the bag and slung it over her shoulder. She was definitely going to push this woman off of a cliff now. 

“Dressed like what?” She asked, more than a little annoyed now after the terrible insult paid to her. And then there was the matter of the heat. Siobhan had never fared well in it: she was a banshee and a winter child and dressed with funeral colors almost exclusively. Sweat beaded around her forehead. “With the utmost offensive I don’t think I want fashion advice from someone who looks like they could be posing next to a department store catalog lawnmower.” She grumbled. “This is work clothing,” she said. “Clothes for boning,” she said. “Normally there would be more cleavage; I don’t dress like this.” Siobhan wiped her sweat away. There were more murders in summer, she thought suddenly. “In fact, if you hate this so much…” 

Siobhan dropped her bone bag suddenly, a move she’d regret later, and pulled her black sweater off. “There,” she said, stuffing it inside her bag and pulling it back over her shoulder. Immediately, her pasty, freckled skin screamed red under the sun. She had enough sense to keep her glamor on but not enough to have applied sunscreen; she didn’t think she needed it. Still, it was a relief to be out of her shirt. The cool wind grazing her sweaty skin was a feeling comparable to boning. “Happy?” She scowled. She could feel herself burning but said nothing about her glowing red skin. She tried to keep walking under the shadows where possible. “I don’t care what people think,” she said, “least of all you.” Never mind that she’d done this because of what the woman thought. If she made another comment, the pants were going next. 

Siobhan’s black bra was also ill-suited for the weather and ill-suited for physical activity and though she’d been uncomfortable before, each step propelled her into new states of discomfort. “How close is it?” She’d push the woman and be done with it and sleep inside the big freezer she used for dead bodies. 

—

Nicole didn’t think she was getting a headache. She knew it. The pressure behind her eyes grew heavier and unrelenting the longer she spent time with the woman. Why was she so abrasive one moment and then acted— acted what? Strange. Childish. Nicole watched her pick up her bones like a kid who was chastised and had to put away her toys. Nicole didn’t get it. Though there wasn’t much she got about anything in the first place, it wasn’t surprising. Once it was all over, at the very least she would be an interesting story to share back at the station. She should focus on that.

The woman seemed annoyed as she stood, ready to go visit the promised cliff. Good. Nicole didn’t allow herself the satisfaction of pissing someone off too often. It went beyond the type of interaction she was comfortable with. The snarky back and forth would make her anxious. But this woman deserved contention. What was the— a taste of her own medicine. English idioms were fucking absurd. The woman defended her outfit and the corner of Nicole’s mouth twitched, one side curving imperceptibly. It wasn’t a smile, she lied to herself. “And this is mine,” she pointed out, hand pulling down the hem of her shirt. One thing was true though, she wasn’t the person who should be offering any kind of advice. “Fucking hate it. Can’t do much about it,” she shrugged. She didn’t know what effect it was supposed to have on visitors. It didn’t inspire authority. To Nicole, it almost felt like dressing like a clown.  

“Don’t hate yours, I’m saying it draws too much—” Nicole didn’t finish her sentence, eyes widening when the woman dropped her bag and started… undressing. What the fuck— “I didn’t— I wasn’t— I meant… the black. Nothing wrong with—clothes are fine. No— not everything. Those aren’t hiking shoes,” she looked down, eyes darting on the ground instead of the woman flashing her. Though could a bra be considered— This was a prank, of course. And now her coworkers came out from behind the trees and everybody would have a laugh. She’d try following along, but in reality, she’d be humiliated. Nobody showed up, however. It was only them on the trail, the realization that it was a real human interaction she was having sinking slowly. “You always take things to an extreme?” she questioned with a scowl, glancing up at the woman. She kept her eyes from wandering anywhere but… the vicinity of her face. Because she couldn’t look her in the eyes either. 

“Right,” if the woman didn’t care about her opinion she had a weird way of showing it. Nicole couldn’t take any word that came out of her mouth seriously. Once she was done with her little show, Nicole was able to expand on her initial comment. “All black makes you look like a fucking cartoon robber,” what was so wrong about gray, or that military green, or brown? She processed her words, and her eyes widened in fear. “Keep the rest though, please” she added, for safety measures. This was not the type of woman she should be interacting with. Where were the simple people? Nicole needed at least one more year of being back in the human world to be able to deal with her. 

Hoping no other acts of exhibitionism would be committed, Nicole turned her attention to the path ahead. The other was ready to go too, it appeared. Not that she trusted anything or anyone at the moment. Logic and reason were buried on the ground where the bones used to be. “Ten or fifteen—” she huffed out an answer, casting a side glance when they finally got on the road. Was it too much to hope for a quiet stroll? “Could be more, with inappropriate footwear,” she reached behind her, searching for something in her back pocket. She held out a small tube of sunscreen for the other woman. She had a feeling she would be bright pink in no time. “It’s no bone but— uh, will keep you protected”.  

—

What was the world coming to? Did the humans think of their cults as work now? Siobhan grumbled, trudging over uneven ground, kicking the occasional rock. In her time, cults were a fun hobby, not work. “Take it up with your leader,” she said. “You shouldn’t walk around looking that ugly. It’s insulting.” Even the usual black cloaks were more flattering. She kicked a few more rocks, most tumbled back down to her feet, so she kicked them again. She wished she was still boning. Even to prove a point, or whatever it was she was trying to do—the whim melted out of her mind with the heat—this was one step too far. All this physical labor for what? A cliff? Why couldn’t she just stab her? Watching humans spatter like crushed insects was fascinating, yes, but now, with all this walking, was it even worth it? Siobhan counted at least ten good stabbing spots in the woman’s back. Oh, but it was so hot. Why even bother with that? 

Energy drained out of Siobhan quickly and only stubbornness kept her moving. “Am I not hiking in these shoes?” Poorly, she thought, each step threatened a twisted ankle. “They are shoes I am hiking in. Ergo, hiking shoes.” Her grip on her bag tightened. “Extremes?” Her laughter shot up like a howl, sending one poor bird flying off in a lopsided flight. “Live long enough, and mild becomes synonymous with boring.” Which was a rather verbose way to say yes, she realized. Did she always talk like this? And in this weather? Under these circumstances? Maybe she ought to start grunting one word at a time. “I am a robber,” she said. There was no praise for her straightforward response, which disappointed her. She gave up any attempts to speak less immediately. 

“Ten or fifteen what? Feet? Miles? Minutes?” Siobhan scowled at the distance. Could the woman be leading her astray? She wanted to go back to her house now—she missed the air conditioning. Siobhan snatched up the sunscreen. She squeezed the cool cream into her hand and spread it across her red shoulders. She offered no thanks, despite how her skin was soothed. She ought to have rejected it, as the woman did to her bone, but the day was getting to her. “How far away is it now?” She asked. And again, not even a full minute later: “How about now?” 

—

“My… leader?” Somehow, Nicole managed to look dumbfounded. As if she didn’t learn by now who her hiking partner was. Did the woman truly not know the National Park Services? She walked slowly, due to the other’s poor choice of shoes, as well as her own paranoia. She didn’t trust her not to do something if she kept her back toward her for too long. “My… leader,” she repeated, kicking one of the rocks that landed by her feet. Tossing it as far away from the trail without much effort. “Out of my control, I guess. Too high up the chain. Will have to keep— offending you with my ugliness,” she shrugged, half a smirk reaching her lips at the thought of insulting the woman simply by existing in a stupid uniform. Better than any real confrontation, Nicole figured, and carried on.     

The woman wasn’t wearing hiking shoes. Didn’t matter what bullshit argument she was spewing, she had to know that. So, no, Nicole didn’t fall for the bait, tempting as it was. It wasn’t often she was certain about things, she would’ve enjoyed the chance to call out her terrible outfit and footwear, but— better keep her mental peace than get roped into another pointless discussion. Her silence seemed to be an affront to the other woman, whose howling laugh made Nicole flinch. Her eardrums were intact, but she wished she had her earplugs with her, should another one of those… attacks come. She tensed as the bird flew past them. Knowing they were stepping away from the dangerous areas of the trail wasn’t enough, she grabbed the woman by the wrist and rushed her as much as her stupid, inappropriate hiking shoes allowed. She almost told her not to try that laughter again, but— don’t must sound like do in the other woman’s head, so she relented. 

Why did she continue to speak and act as if she was much older than Nicole? it made no fucking sense. A decade older at most, no? She clenched her jaw, fighting the snappy remark long enough that her exasperation vanished. “Live long enough, you revert to acting like a child?” she asked flatly, though she admitted to herself— At this point, she was intrigued. 

The admission that she was a robber would have been concerning, if Nicole could take anything that came out of the woman’s mouth seriously. That ship sailed long ago. Granted, she kept that piece of information in the forefront of her mind, should it become relevant at any point. Though it was difficult to keep anything important in her head, when there was a persistent voice chiming in behind her. “Minutes,” she grumbled. Did she forget to say that part aloud? Shit. It happened sometimes. Her mouth got tired and stopped uttering words. Sometimes, they stayed in her head, in a senseless mess that couldn’t be untangled, so they didn’t get a chance to come out. When the other accepted the sunscreen, Nicole kept her eyes ahead, paying little attention. “Make sure to get your back,” not that her polite advice would be well received, of course. 

And if Nicole briefly hoped that her gesture would be perceived as conciliatory, those hopes were stomped on the ground by inadequate shoes when the woman called out, asking when they would arrive at their destination. Nicole let out a weary sigh. Should she let herself be pushed now? It would end this painful interaction, after all. A broken rib was potentially less horrible. She was finding joy in pissing her off, surely. She couldn’t allow that. “We’ll get there when we get there, you’re the one who wanted the cliff, no? Can take you to one of the exits, if you prefer.” What else could Nicole have done? This wasn’t a woman who would’ve taken a ‘please step out of the trail’ kindly. “So what is it?”

—

There was no relief under the unrelenting sun. The merciful trees shielded her as much as their pitiful branches could, but scorching rays of heat dappled through the leaves. It wasn’t this bad back with the bones and Siobhan guessed her misery must’ve been a combination of things: the woman’s ugly fashion and general unpleasant attitude; the physical labor; the wasted time; the lack of bones; her own blistering annoyance at everything. “Not a child,” she whined like one. “How many times can you stand the same words? The same events? How long until predictability grinds your mind to a paste? The same things over and over again—if your life is boring, you lose your years. The passage of time turns to sludge.” Siobhan’s grip on her bag tightened as she tried to remember the years she passed in exile. As humiliating as her false commands were, they were all she remembered. In forty years, what remained were a handful of hope drenched moments. Everything else was the unending, unrelenting shame. 

“Is that what you want?” She added, allowing her bitterness to keep her legs in motion. “To forget your life? A lack of fun is merely a lack of life.” In someone else’s mouth, it may have sounded inspirational, but Siobhan intended nothing of the sort. She pulled the words from her throat with an acrid conviction; as much a product of her current state as it was her hatred for this truth—wouldn’t it be nice to be boring? She couldn’t bear it for long, the self-hating itch of her mind burned as terribly as the sun. Forty years, she thought. If she had to pass another second like that again, waiting for nothing, she’d shatter the world. How could she endure anything so monotonous again for the rest of her centuries? It was better, always, to live in extremes. 

It was easier too. In extremes, one did not need to think. Siobhan had never been very good at thinking for herself. “I can’t reach my back,” she said. In truth, the act of rubbing one’s own back was an embarrassingly ungraceful gesture. “I’m not going to try. Are we there yet or not?” Clearly not, the horizon was still swallowed up by tree trunks. The exits were tempting; each human-made path of trampled grass pulled her attention. And she watched them until the trees swallowed them too. She liked to think each of those paths led back to the parking lot, where she desperately wanted to go. 

“No,” Siobhan said. She didn’t know which way the official exit off this trail was, but eventually the sliced paths between the trees thinned out until there was only the trail they walked and she knew that leaving now would probably be a longer trip than simply finishing what they started. “You’re stuck with me. In fact, we’re glued together. Forever. Always.” Siobhan liked the idea only because she thought it would horrify the woman. How terrible was it to be going about your tree cult business with someone like her trailing behind? “I’m going to come back every day. I’m going to be boning. I’m going to find you. I’m going to remind you that your fashion is ugly.” She smiled, now accepting the unrealistic idea as the fuel for her jellied legs. If only she could get to the cliff, and then turn this woman’s life into a nightmare as punishment for…well, actually, this was her idea. 

“Are we there now?” Siobhan punished herself enough; she was full of punishment, unable to make room for one more. It would simply have to be deferred to this unfashionable cult member. 

—

“Could’ve fooled me,” Nicole argued under her breath when the woman whined childishly, after being called childish. She seemed to believe she had to prove Nicole wrong, if the weird existential rant that followed was anything to go by. Nicole frowned, hearing words she only understood on a surface level, growing annoyed with herself for being unable to keep up when the other was trying to outsmart her. She shook her head, “Got the wrong person, I don’t think about that stuff,” she opted to lie, in hopes of getting out of a conversation erring into a more serious discussion. “But you got me, I’m not fun—or have a life. Suits me fine.” 

After what had to be the third or fourth insinuation that the woman was something beyond human, Nicole was forced to reckon with the fact. Usually, she preferred making conjectures about supernatural species after lunch. Mornings were often reserved for Nicole to live under the pretense that she worked at a relatively normal job in a slightly weird town. Nothing more. But not even that peace of mind the woman was willing to grant her. Despite her appearance, she claimed to be old. So what? Vampire old? If her reaction to the sun was anything to go by… possibly. Nicole reached for her neck, instinctively brushing the fang marks there. Sure as fuck she didn’t want to find out if her hunch was right. 

“I want peace,” she answered curtly. Why should she need more than a dog to care for, walls to keep the cold away, the comfort of a solid mattress and a kitchen to make a warm meal? When she’d lived the alternative, no— when she’d survived the alternative, it was easy to find fulfillment in small luxuries. “I won’t live several lifetimes like you have, though.” Hopefully, she’d reach a hundred in good condition, a sound mind. To make up for the decade she’d lost to the jaguar. That would be nice. The universe repaying her for what it put her through at a young age. She didn’t linger on her hopes and dreams, focusing on the fact that despite living for many years, the other woman didn’t know shit about life either. Nicole had expected years would bring wisdom and experience, but looking at her companion, anxiety wormed its way into her chest. Was she doomed as well?

Hearing complaints about the sunscreen, Nicole shot a judgemental glance back, ignoring the small pang of pity she’d never dare voice. “I’d offer, but I wouldn’t hear the end of it,” going anywhere near a woman who had stated her intentions to push her off a cliff was plain stupid. She shook her head, answering the second part of the sentence instead. No, they weren’t fucking there yet. Like they weren’t two fucking seconds ago, when the woman asked the same question. They were getting somewhere, however. The path twisted before them, the trees growing dense, canopies closing in for long stretches, then trunks peppered along the trail as the sky revealed itself again. 

It should’ve been a sight that brought relief within Nicole, a step closer to getting rid of the nuisance she’d stumbled upon, but the woman had a different idea. Stuck. Glued. What? Nicole looked back at her, realizing how pleased she looked for coming up with such an evil plan. She smirked despite herself, because the woman’s vindictiveness made her stride faster, stupid inappropriate shoes be damned. Whatever worked for her. “You sure about that?” She drawled through her smile, tugging at her shirt. “Would have to hand you one of these, if you plan on being glued… voluntary ugliness,” she was thankful the woman didn’t know shit about her, otherwise she might have believed she was joking with her. She wasn’t. Didn’t know how to, of course not. “If you say so. Sounds to me like you’re the only one who’s gonna suffer,” because Nicole was slowly getting the hang of the woman’s tantrums. While she’d never had what it took to be a good conversationalist. If anything, only one of the two would find her silent company aggravating. 

“Got no issues with you boning, by the way. Could’ve gotten away with it— if you didn’t dress like you came out of— Scooby Doo,” an information sign ahead of them indicated they were close to the summit. She let out a sigh of relief. “So maybe you didn’t. Want to get away with it, I mean. Maybe you wanted someone to find you,” she mused, forehead creasing. Was that it? Children wanted attention, didn’t they? Most people did, she supposed, though she was foreign to that concept.  

Thankfully, they reached the end of their path a moment later. Crisp air filled her lungs, a much needed dose of oxygen after walking up the trail with an argumentative woman behaving in erratic ways. A wide area of foliage and rock extended ahead of them, giving them a panoramic view from one of the highest points in the park. The sun was at its tallest, rays unforgiving on their skin sure, but illuminating the horizon and showcasing the best of Wicked’s Rest woodlands. The sky was a bright blue, with scarce wisps of clouds that refused to give any kind of shade. Sweat beaded her forehead, but it didn’t matter, it all made up for the trek to get there, and the company she’d brought along the way. She breathed out, taking it all in for a moment, heightened senses attuned to the sounds of nature, allowing the vast landscape before her eyes to speak for itself. A minute passed, then she straightened her back, pointing at the distance. “We’re here. Viewpoint over there, careful with the boundary, or—” No, she didn’t know how that sentence was supposed to end, so she refused to finish it. With a nod, she encouraged the woman to go ahead. “Forgive me if I don’t walk farther than this, I have a murder threat to my name”.

—

The apartments weren’t empty, they were filled with dust—it was the thought that coursed through Siobhan’s mind as the woman claimed not to have a life, not to desire fun. She thought of herself—she was always thinking of herself—and the empty apartment. No, not empty. There was the dust and there was her. If she stayed in one long enough, she became convinced she memorized the pattern of the wood grain. What was the point in furnishing a temporary space? What was the point in doing anything else but her duty? Which then, those forty years, demanded that she wait. Siobhan winced as she recalled it. The humid air transformed into the stuffy aroma of an unused space. Surely, the woman had no idea what she was referring to.

“You’re part of a cult,” Siobhan said. “That’s fun. Clearly you need fun. Clearly you need something.” The idea that anyone could live happily with nothing made her shiver. And then, the idea of peace made her laugh. “No such thing as peace.” Siobhan sneered. “Fate will disrupt you; it always does. And what then? Why desire a falsehood? This world has never known peace.” She should’ve asked the woman what she meant by ‘peace’, as Siobhan herself was unconvinced of it and unsure of the exact definition. However, it was more fun to deny it outright. In her estimation, they were beyond amicable philosophical discussions now. 

But they were not beyond murder. Siobhan imagined it, yearning. She was going down her mental list of all the different kinds of sharp, pointy things—cleaver, stick, fork, particularly sharp pencil—when the ugly-dressed woman dared to interrupt her again. Nevermind the fact that they were having a conversation. “I was not asking,” she said and then: “no, you will not.” It would be a touch of poetic irony if she used a stick to kill her; killed by the very thing she worshiped in her unfashionable cult. “You are attempting to dissuade me from gluing myself to you. You are attempting to pretend as though it would not annoy you. You lie. I will not have to wear the ugly clothes.” Somehow, she was struck with the rather distinct feeling of being treated like a child. The stick she planned to use transformed into a dull, rusted saw. “You’re the one that will suffer.” She was struck with the rather distinct feeling of acting like a child. 

Where was that damnable cliff? “I don’t want to be found. I don’t…” Siobhan’s voice faded away. Didn’t she? Why had she worn the outfit? Because she looked good in it, yes, but who exactly was she expecting to be seen by? No one, of course. But then why? “I don’t wear ugly things, it’s the principle of the matter. The principle of not being ugly. You wouldn’t understand.” But was that enough to explain it? Did that even make sense to her? Siobhan shifted, forever displeased with her own seemingly contradictory nature. “I am not someone who dreams of being found by another.” But wasn’t she? 

Where was that damnable—oh, there it was. Siobhan met the cliffside. The tops of trees like a quarry of green greeted her, the glorious sun embraced her, and the cloud waved to her, rolling over head. At once, her unpleasant attitude dissolved; it was impossible to be mean in the face of nature’s beauty. “Thank you,” she said, and spun immediately to the woman with alarm on her face. If she knew to take it, if she accepted it—she swallowed. Maybe she wouldn’t? Maybe— “I take that back. I take that back.” But it didn’t work that way; she’d said it, the fae magic was out there. “I had decided to use a rusty saw to kill you actually,” she said quickly. “Not the cliff. If you wanted to…” Disgusting. Was she really inviting her over? “Do nothing. Do absolutely nothing. Go turn around and leave. That’s what I want.” 

—

Park Rangers belonged to a cult, according to the woman. One more reason for Nicole to believe she wasn’t talking to a human. She rarely met people who cared so little about concealing that side of themselves. Hell, she could count the number of people who knew about the jaguar in one hand. Not this woman, no. She was too clueless or too proud —perhaps a mix of both— to care about secrecy. It made their previous misunderstandings slightly less annoying. Only slightly. Nicole couldn’t let the murder threat go. She looked back at the woman, who laughed bitterly. She’d given up acting like a child, speaking instead like the jaded old woman she kept claiming to be, talking about fate being disruptive and shit. Nicole couldn’t figure out exactly what emotion weighed in her throat as the woman gave her verdict, —the world has never known peace— but it was tight, and it dragged down its chest like lead. Didn’t she know that too? Didn’t fate disrupt her life at every turn? Maybe peace was an impossible thing to achieve, but Nicole was stupid, wasn’t she? It was previously established. So she’d keep believing in it, hoping for it. Like the idiot she was. She cleared her throat, the only audible proof that she heard what the other said. 

“Not much of a liar,” she grumbled, as the woman doubled down on her “evil” intentions. She kept on walking like she had places to go, finally, so Nicole nourished that energy. “At least you’d have fitting shoes—” Why was the woman attempting to convince her of how awful she was? It was often the other way around, no? People liked to pretend they were better, kinder than what their actions revealed. Nicole trudged past the forest that was her perpetual confusion, determined to follow the conversation. This woman was weird. Contradictory. She was certain that she could cause any of Nicole’s suffering. As if. It was amusing, almost. But the words were consistent with a self-centered monologue. “I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference,” she dismissed the claims. It was meant to be reassuring, though if the woman’s goal was to cause the suffering— it was likely to have the opposite effect. 

No, she didn’t understand. The list of things Nicole didn’t understand grew longer with each passing day. The other woman wasn’t achieving anything new. “You’re right. I don’t understand,” another thing they could agree on, regardless. She paid no attention to the empty comments and the woman’s fixation on ugliness. She was full of shit, Nicole gathered as much. If she was honest about not wanting to be found— “Gotta be better at hiding, then. Camo print… next time,” perhaps, left to…bone unsupervised, she’d be able to find the elusive peace she claimed not to believe in. 

Cliff-watching didn’t last long. Certainly not for someone who faced the scorching sun to reach the destination. Nicole was wrong, nothing new, it wasn’t a good cliff to push people off. Right, that had to be it. She was displeased, annoyed to be pulled along for this in shoes that looked more like torture devices. The woman didn’t ask for a picture or anything. Nicole considered offering to take one, but again, they were too near the cliffside for her liking. Safety first.

Half expecting a snarky remark after witnessing such a disappointing cliff, Nicole was surprised to hear a thank you. Too abrupt to suppress the expression on her face. She accepted the words with a shrug, aware that she didn’t need them. “You’re welcome, but it’s my jo—” she was cut off by the woman taking her thank you back. Nicole frowned, confusion bringing out a dry laugh, “what— too polite for you?” she almost rolled her eyes, but chose to ignore the outburst. Being thankful seemed to disturb the other woman to the point she needed to get back to making death threats. Fucking weird. Nicole hummed, eyes narrowed. It was a much weaker attempt, though. “You won’t find one big enough,” she dared her, emboldened by her logic. If the woman expected her to cower in fear, she should’ve tried something else. In fact, being friendly to begin with would’ve set off her flight or fight response quicker than cliff-pushing or sawing ever could. 

“If I wanted to do— What?” Nicole blinked at the woman. Did she— miss part of the conversation? Shit. She must’ve been too inside her head to realize it. But no clarification was supplied, instead, the woman seemed adamant about going. And do… nothing? What? Nicole looked behind her, in case a wild animal was creeping nearby, causing the sudden shift. No. Only other hikers reaching the summit. “Right. Uh— Can’t do that. Nothing. Doing my job and shit right now, but—” she gestured back to the trail, “if we descend the other way we’ll find my car. I’ll leave you at one of the exits.” She hesitated, looking over at the viewpoint. No picture then? No picture. Her loss. She shuffled back to the trail, waiting for the other woman, eyebrows furrowed tightly as she replayed the conversation in her head. Whatever she missed, she wouldn’t know until she was alone. For the time being, there was a not-too-happy woman right in front of her, finally ready 

to leave. “I uh— can make the way back entertaining for you, if this wasn’t up to standards,” her frown eased, a small smirk creeping on her face instead. She made sure they were too far gone from the cliff to finish her thought. “Go over what you can and can’t do at the park. Rules. List is long, got plenty of time.” Torturing could go both ways, no?

—

Siobhan walked alongside the ugly-dressed woman, defeated. She did not bone, as she planned. She did not toss this woman off a cliff, as she wanted. The only victory she could claim was knowing that the woman intended to annoy her, but inside the monotonous drawl of her voice listing things-for-Siobhan-to-do—they were rules and thusly things-not-to-do but to Siobhan they were a to-do list—she found an odd measure of peace. The woman’s voice laid out before them as the sounds of the forest did, underscored by the crunch of Siobhan’s heels. She might’ve seemed tortured—stomping around as though she could stamp out the heat—but her erratic thoughts were scooped out. The section on littering only reminded her that she would litter later; something compostable, she wasn’t a monster. The section on after-hours visitation cemented plans to come in the dark. The woman droned on and Siobhan, a chronic insomniac, was sleepy. 

When she crawled into her car, she didn’t consider that it was that feeling—the tension withered from her muscles—that the woman was referring to. Instead, she thought it was odd that a cult should have so many rules. What a boring cult that was and she’d be back to tell the woman all about it. 

[xivu-arath]

scrolling through my fic document reminded me that my "a horrible goose was rezzed by a ghost" wip was pretty good! I'd like to get back to it some day

Zavala inspects Odile’s new Guardian, who inspects him right back. “This,” Commander Zavala says, “is a very poor joke.”

She disagrees. This would be an amazing joke, if it was one. She plans to use it for the setup of a bunch of them now – “So a Hunter, a Ghost and a goose walk into a bar” – but! That’s not the point!

“That’s because it isn’t one,” she says, trying not to look down at her Guardian. People take eye contact seriously, which is a little unfair when all you have is one big optic.

Zavala pauses, softens. She’d appreciate it if she wasn’t being serious. “I understand that it is Ghosts who have the bleakest duty out of all of us. No one in the Tower underestimates the lengths you go to for all our sakes. But the fact remains that this kind of stunt is unacceptable. Passing off wildlife as a Lightbearer? Surely you know better.”

“It’s not a stunt! It just happened!” she says, shell flaring outward. Zavala’s frown deepens, but Targe bails her out unexpectedly, swooping down for a quick scan.

“It is a Guardian. Somehow. The Light patterns are odd.”

“Understandably, since this is a bird.” The look he turns on her is worse than the stern frown, somehow.  “How did this happen, exactly?”

“It just did,” she insists. “I felt that this had to be the one and then – bam!”

“But,” he says heavily. “This is a goose.”

“One set of bones looks like every other, especially stuck in a dried up lake. And – and the Light caught, so it had to be right.”

“Nevertheless,” Zavala says.

“I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Her Guardian steps closer, bored with a conversation happening literally over their head.

“You’re saying you can communicate?”

“Picking up on biorhythms is simple enough! And I’ve downloaded every file on avian body language I could find.

“Geese,” she says with as much dignity as she can muster, “guarded Rome. Thousands of years ago! There’s a precedent.”

Zavala sighs, but she knows she’s got him.

[dzthenerd490]

File: Mothra

SCP#: ABU

Code Name: Mothra: Queen of Monsters

Object Class: Apollyon/ Thaumiel

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-ABU mainly resides on Infant Island or SCP-ABU-1 as it is known by Foundation staff. Naval Task Fleet Aphrodite-4 "Pegasidae" is responsible for maintaining the blockaid secluding the island form the rest of the world. Meanwhile Foundation staff on the Foundation Area Base on SCP-ABU-1 are in charge of collecting samples of the island's exotic and often anomalous flora and fauna. Foundation staff there are also in charge of maintaining friendly relations with the natives of SCP-ABU-1 as well as both SCP-ABU-2 individuals. 

Foundation staff on SCP-ABU-1 and NTF Aphrodite-4 are to alert all Foundation channels if SCP-ABU ever acts agitated and/ or suddenly leaves SCP-ABU-1. From there Foundation satellites and space staff are to monitor where SCP-ABU goes to the best of their abilities. Because SCP-ABU can make use of SCP-ACS this won't always be possible. Foundation colonization of SCP-ACS is ongoing to make up for this weakness in the containment procedures of SCP-ABU and other Titan Anomalies.

Description: SCP-ABU is a rare insectoid member of Species of Interest: The Titans. SCP-ABU resembles a female specimen of Gynnidomorpha alisman or the silk moth, though obviously much larger and stronger. Upon being born, SCP-ABU as a larva extending 15 meters in length and possessed a grey yet slightly luminated body that despite being slimy and soft looking was stronger than steel. Even as a larva, SCP-ABU was able to tear steel apart, take rocket fire without reaction, and even withstand advanced armor piercing rounds with only annoyance at worst. Furthermore, it was not defenseless, able to spit large silk webbing with enough force to kill targets with blunt trauma or leave them with fractured bones. Testing has shown this silk to be as strong as Titanium with a single strand alone, each one normally being 1.5 cm in thickness. Testing is ongoing to see how this silk can be utilized by the Foundation.

After 24 hours of being born SCP-ABU quickly went into its chrysalis stage of life where its shell was not only indestructible but reported to release a beautiful and calming tune. After an additional 24 hours passed, SCP-ABU awakened form its chrysalis with a fully mature body and newly grown wings. Its new adult body was still 15 meters in length but now with the added wingspan of 200 meters. SCP-ABU still has the ability to spit its indestructible silk and sings its calming song but its new wings also have anomalous properties. SCP-ABU wings can not only enhance the range of its song but can also release a strange powder like substance containing Gaia Radiation.

As you know Gaia Radiation is an anomalous energy source that acts as a super vitamin in energy form improving the quality of life for all flora and fauna it comes into contact with. It is also theorized to be what allows Species of Interest: The Titans to exist without biological complications. However, of all the Titans the Foundation has catalogued, none can create as much Gaia Radiation as SCP-ABU, not even SCP-ABQ can keep up.

Despite SCP-ABU being an insectoid and SCP-ABQ being reptilian, the two Titans are mated. Besides the fact that both are Alpha class Titans and unlike other Titans possess unique anomalous abilities, why they are mated is unknown.

SCP-ABU was discovered in 1961 during a Foundation research expedition to map out SCP-ABQ's traveling patterns across the ocean. While following one of the paths, they found the island of SCP-ABU-1. Within SCP-ABU-1, lots of exotic flora and fauna was found, all of which seemed to resemble ancient species but was genetically altered by the abondance of Gaia radiation on the island. Because of the massive amounts of Gaia Radiation and the new forms of wildlife on the island Foundation researcher quickly started flooding the island to take samples. 

This unfortunately, lead to conflict with the locals of this island. Oddly, the locals have no biological difference to regular humans and were of Asian ethnicity with tan skin. Additionally, these locals have gained above average strength, height, muscle structure, and healing capabilities most likely having been exposed to Gaia Radiation all their lives. Though the most anomalous of the locals was the twins, known as SCP-ABU-2. 

SCP-ABU-2 are female twins both having tan skin and black hair, making them look no different to the rest of the locals. For whatever reason when the twins talk, they always do so in unison. However, what makes them anomalous is when they sing, doing so allows them to communicate with SCP-ABU. How they achieve this is assumed to be thanks to the prolonged exposure to the Gaia Radiation SCP-ABU produces. Why SCP-ABU-2 can do this and not the rest of the locals is unknown.

Regardless, when the locals felt threatened, the SCP-ABU-2 twins started singing, causing SCP-ABU to awaken and start attacking Foundation staff leading to 24 casualties and 6 injured. Foundation staff were forced to retreat allowing the SCP-ABU-2 twins to sing SCP-ABU into calming down and enter its chrysalis stage of life. Foundation researchers begrudgingly gave up their samples to show the locals they meant no harm and were sorry for any transgressions. The SCP-ABU-2 twins were the only ones willing to talk to Foundation staff and told them that SCP-ABU was Mothra: Queen of Monsters.

Not long after SCP-ABU had broken form its chrysalis and was now in its adult form. At the same time SCP-ABQ appeared form the ocean, the two instance meeting at a beach on the island. Surprisingly their interaction was brief and peaceful, it was almost like the two were very familiar with one another despite having only just met. The SCP-ABU-2 twins explained to the researchers that SCP-ABQ was Gojira, King of Monsters and protector of Mothra. 

Upon learning this valuable information, all boats quickly left SCP-ABU-1 and made way to the nearest Foundation Site. The O5 Council declared to have SCP-ABU the same Dual Object Classification of SCP-ABQ. Since SCP-ABU stays on SCP-ABU-1 protection and containment will be focused on the entire island, hence the creation of MTF Aphrodite-4. Additionally, a Foundation Area was constructed on SCP-ABU-1 but in an isolated area far from the rest of the locals. Since SCP-ABU's discovery, for better or worse, it has had some influence on the anomalous world, just like SCP-ABQ. Please see Please See Addendum X-23 for details.

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[walkawaytall]

wip whateverday

So, I started writing this story tentatively titled Word of the Day quite awhile ago, and I’ve been having issues coming up with an ending. I’m actually considering turning it into a Five Times fic. But in the meantime…I kind of wanted to post some of what I have here just ‘cause. This is a sizable excerpt — it is admittedly most of what I have written so far — but…yeah, I dunno, I like the idea in general and like what I have written so far and just felt like sharing today.

Excerpt below the cut!

Jan Dodonna was monologuing again, and even Leia was a little over it. What had started as a simple review of safety protocols had morphed into a full-on lecture. Usually, when Jan got carried away, Carlist eventually interrupted and ended the meeting, but Carlist was stuck in an entirely different meeting and Leia wasn’t sure how Jan would respond to her taking over; when they made decisions for the base or in High Command meetings, her opinion held as much weight as anyone else’s, but he did still technically outrank her, and overriding him in front of the rank and file likely wouldn’t go over well.

“…it is imperative that these incidences are reported to clean-up personnel…”

Someone to her left needed water apparently. They kept coughing and clearing their throat. After the third bout of throat clearing, Leia glanced in the direction of the sound and nearly groaned out loud. Han Solo looked directly at her from several seats away.

He held up four fingers on one hand and lifted his mug of caf to his lips, subtly mouthing the word four before taking a sip.

Leia intended to ignore whatever ridiculousness Han was attempting to rope her into, but he wore such an amused expression — a look she knew from a year of being around the man meant I’m letting you in on a joke — that she felt the need to keep an eye on him, or at least glance his way every minute or so.

“…top priority to keep each and every one of you alive. It is imperative that any instances of daisy-chaining…”

What is Jan going on about? Leia wondered. She could have sworn the agenda for this meeting had been centered entirely on avoiding heat stroke while they were stuck in a rainforest for the foreseeable future, but he had apparently moved on to electrical safety.

Han cleared his throat again and Leia leveled her gaze at him. He surreptitiously held up all five fingers on the same hand as before, mouthed five, and took a sip of caf.

Leia rolled her eyes and focused her attention back on General Dodonna, forcing herself to pay attention.

“…the local wildlife. We know from the research performed by our naturalists that it is imperative to consider…”

Without realizing what she was doing or why she was doing it, Leia glanced at Han expectantly. He had stopped holding up fingers and merely mouthed six before taking sipping from his mug. He noticed Leia looking at him again and winked.

Han raised his hand and Jan barely stopped himself from grimacing. “Yes, Captain Solo? Do you have a question?”

“Yeah, would you say all this is important?”

General Dodonna sputtered in disbelief. “Yes, Captain Solo. Have you be listening at all? It is imperative that crash webbing…”

Leia turned to look at Han right as he mouthed seven and she finally recognized the pattern. He was counting every time Jan said the word imperative. Why he was doing this, Leia assumed, was something only he knew.

Han lingered after the meeting, waiting for Leia to step away from General Dodonna and a few members of the Gold Squadron before approaching her, an easy grin on his face. “You get it?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. “What? The fact that you need a lozenge?” Han frowned slightly and Leia decided to put him out of his misery. She leaned toward him slightly and lowered her voice. “Or the fact that General Dodonna said imperative eleven times?”

“It’s the word of the day,” Han said solemnly.

“Clearly.”

“I mean literally.” He glanced over Leia’s head, presumably at Jan to make sure he was occupied, and slipped her a small, folded piece of paper.

Leia unfolded the fragile sheet, wondering why Han was carrying paper around at all when flimsi was so much more durable and readily available on base. The printed side of the slip of paper looked familiar, though Leia couldn’t place her finger on where she had seen it before. It contained the day of the week, the date, and the word imperative along with its definition.

It was a page from one of those cheap daily calendars, the kind with a vocabulary word assigned to each day. They had been all over the Senate offices in a variety of languages — she had been gifted one for Shyriiwook as a tasteless joke once from someone who considered the language of an enslaved species beneath humans. She had been sure to mention to anyone who would listen while in the gifter’s presence that they had inspired her to actually learn the basics of the language in a brazen attempt to make everyone involved feel uncomfortable.

The page Han had handed to her was from a Basic version of the calendar, and Leia realized where she had seen it before. She looked at Han in alarm. “Did you steal this from General Dodonna’s desk?” she hissed.

Han appeared affronted by the question. “‘m a lot of things, Your Worship, but I ain’t a thief.” He paused. “Not in awhile, anyway.”

She was tempted to derail the conversation entirely in order to delve into what length of time the smuggler considered awhile, but Han’s possession of the calendar page seemed more pressing. “How exactly do you have it, then?”

“Dodonna made a special request for his. Figure there had to be somethin’ interesting about it if he was comin’ to me for a favor, so I bought two: one for him, one for me. Turns out the calendars are just as boring as they sound.”

“How disappointing,” Leia said drolly.

Han shrugged. “Nah. Now I get to see how many times I can make him say it. Makes these meetings go by faster at least.”

She grimaced. “You’re supposed to be paying attention during meetings.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “If you can name half of the topics that were talked about in the past hour, I’ll take that job to Fondor you’ve been harassin’ me about.”

Leia raised her eyebrows. “The one you said was a suicide mission?”

“Uh-huh.” He smirked.

They really needed Han to make the run to the Fondor shipyards, and Leia was not beneath winning a bet to secure something so crucial for the Alliance. The only problem was…Well, Jan really had monologued excessively

“Exactly,” Han preened triumphantly after Leia was quiet for an extended period of time.

“The meeting was supposed to be about heat exhaustion and heat stroke warning signs,” she whispered.

“One outta eight ain’t bad, Princess, but it ain’t exactly half.”

She huffed softly, unable to recall more, but certainly unwilling to admit defeat to Han kriffing Solo.

The smuggler read her anyway, apparently. “Need to make a coupla repairs, but we can probably leave for Fondor in the next few days.” He grinned at her, patted her shoulder, and walked away before she could respond, leaving Leia confused, but fairly certain that he’d planned to take the job no matter who had won his bet.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, reminded for what had to be the thousandth time that she would never understand the mind of Han Solo.

*****

Early morning all-hands meetings were particularly miserable on Hoth. In order to speak to everyone at once, they had to schedule the meetings to overlap shifts, which meant Leia had to be out of her quarters long before the sun even considered rising. She was frigid, she had barely managed half a night’s sleep, and nearly every reason for holding an all-hands involved distributing information that no one wanted to hear.

This morning’s meeting held one agenda item: the unfortunate news that the five outposts that hadn’t yet packed up had to postpone their moves to Hoth for at least a week due to some suspicious Imperial activity in the Anoat system, which meant they would continue running Echo Base with skeleton crews for the time being. In addition, they were also looking at a possible lockdown for the base if the activity didn’t diminish soon. General Dodonna had volunteered to break the news, seemingly unbothered by the prospect of the entire rank becoming irritated en masse. Leia had been relieved; she had enough going on without adding the ire of an entire base to her list of things to deal with.

She settled into a seat in the front row, staring at her datapad as others filed into the mess for the meeting. Carlist and couple of officers who had already been briefed on the news were running things in the Command Center, but every other being in the base crammed into the common area, apparently bound and determined to find somewhere to sit or stand that wasn’t the front row of seats. Leia chose not to take their avoidance personally.

Someone settled into the seat next to her, and Leia glanced to the side, catching sight of a blue parka sleeve — outerwear that, though familiar, was certainly not Alliance-issued. She raised her eyes to look at Han, who shoved a mug from the cabinets of the Millennium Falcon into her hands without uttering a word.

“My hero,” she murmured, staring into the mug for a moment before taking a sip. She honestly wasn’t sure if she was talking to Han or the caf.

“Any chance you’ll just tell me what’s goin’ on so I can get back to my bunk?”

Leia shook her head and took another sip of caf. It was the better blend from the Falcon, and though she was appreciative of the gift, she had no plans to break protocol this time. “I need you here so you can react calmly and reasonably to General Dodonna’s announcement in order to keep the peace.” Han, whether he wanted to admit it or not, was looked up to by the majority of the rank. If he didn’t react poorly to the news, often the majority of personnel would fall in line behind him. Plus, the meeting would simply be less dreadful with him next to her, though Leia had no plans to tell him that.

“Need to know what I’m reactin’ to if you want it to seem legit,” he countered.

Before she could answer, Jan took his spot at the front of the room, raising his voice to attract the attention of the everyone in the mess hall. The crowd quieted, and Jan began the announcement.

“Thank you all for being here this morning. I know these all-hands cause a certain level of vexation…”

Han cleared his throat softly and took a sip of his own caf, a signal the Leia had grown incredibly familiar with over the past couple of years. She hazarded a glance and a smile in his direction, though she wasn’t convinced that his assessment was right, and continued to listen for another possible candidate for General Jan Dodonna’s word of the day.

Determining which word would grace that day’s calendar page had become part of the game. Han still had a copy — he purchased a duplicate every year — but he had sworn that he wouldn’t look at it without Leia present, and from what she could tell, he hadn’t broken that promise so far. It had become a bit of a tradition, looking at that day’s page after dinner. Even on days Leia was so busy that she ate at her desk, she could expect a thin, small piece of paper to be slipped to her at some point during the evening as long as Han was planetside.

Guessing the word of the day correctly was the only real way to win, but counting the number of times Jan used it kept them both entertained. Leia had grown to sort of revel in the fact that no one seemed to notice her silent exchanges with Han during meetings. Their silly little game was their secret, and one she felt was worth keeping.

The word quintessential piqued Leia’s interest; it seemed a more likely candidate than vexation to her. After two more uses of the latter, however, she had to concede defeat, and resigned herself to simply count Jan’s uses of the word for the rest of the meeting, exchanging silent glances with Han as they took sips of caf with each one.

Half an hour and ten uses of the word later, Han raised his hand. “I ain’t bothered by the precautions; seems pretty reasonable, and I’m sure everyone here agrees. But have we heard from the outposts? How’re they feelin’?”

Jan raised his eyebrows slightly, seemingly pleased by the question. He nodded. “Yes, we have, and we are aware of the general consensus of vexation among the officers…

Han looked directly at Leia, took a sip of his caf, and grinned.

After the meeting adjourned, Leia spent the rest of the long day addressing questions and being generally unavailable for anything other than Alliance work well past dinner. She was able to hurry through the food line, taking the most convenient options available so she could get back to her desk quickly. When she made it back mere minutes after leaving, a small square of paper sat face up in the middle of her desk, the word vexation printed in the center in bold letters.

[anonymous-dentist]

I don't have a lot of stuff to ask but I'll at least try to think of some

1) How has your day been?

2) Do you have any characters you wish to write about one day, but haven't written about them yet?

3) Is there a type of AU that, regardless of the characters, you want to write about someday?

4) Do you have a favorite AU, both to write about and read yourself?

5) What are some other types of content you like to watch? I know you mentioned Joel / SmallishBeans before, but are there any others?

6) If you could do an AU where you take x character and put them in y universe (Like taking Joel and putting him into qsmp as an example), what do you think would be the most interesting?

7) If you could have any pet in the world, regardless of laws, what would it be? What would you name it?

8) Same question as before, but add fantasy creatures to a mix.

I'll come back if I can think of more

My day has been very very boring except for the fact that I got to fulfill a childhood dream this morning and jump out of the back of a school bus

I want to write literally anything hermitcraft/life series, but I just. Can’t! No matter how hard I try! Nothing seems to click for me

I want to write a western or a space au. I’m just waiting for the opportunity

I like writing supernatural aus, and I like reading… just about anything tbh, I’m not super picky

I watch science stuff! I REALLY like weird science, space science, ocean science, animal science… any science! I watch a lot of wildlife and space documentaries. I also watch Watcher when they’re doing Mystery Files or just Horror Content, but Steven pisses me off so

Put Jimmy Solidarity in Purgatory 2. Have him get chased by Cellbit and Baghera and have Grian in the chat going “Just run faster” every time he gets killed

I would want a red panda and I would name it either Pickles or Mike. Or just a regular panda, also named Mike. Why? Well, I’ve been collecting stuffed panda toys since I was a literal infant, and the first one I ever got was named Mike, and I need to keep the tradition alive

GIVE ME POKÉMON!! If I was in the Pokémon world, my team would be Pancham, Growlithe, Fuecoco, and Mudsdale (my only fully evolved member because it’s probably my fav Pokémon EVER)

[cosmicanger]

Chough

By: Unknown photographer

From: Wildlife Fact-File

1990s

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #84

Today, J, Br, and I went to the library for a work date. Br had homework, J had his remote work, and I was cutting wires to weave new trees while listening to that playlist that I spoke on recently.

I cut A LOT of wire for trees; at least 7 trees worth. I'll show you:

Although I already had a few coils of wire, I decided to spend the time cutting more. Truth be told, I don't really like working with the gold or silver wire; it's stiffer, harder to twist, and more brittle than other kinds of wire of the same gauge, for whatever reason. Sharper, too; trying to move some of the gold coils around, I ended up poking my fingers enough to draw a little bit of blood, which is really no big deal, but it's still kind of annoying.

Each coil of wire has 27 strands, the length of each being approximately the distance between the tip of my left index finger to the bend of my left elbow. There are so many strands because it takes three strands to weave a branch, three branches to weave a section of a tree, and three sections to make a whole tree.

I got really into the groove of it, though, and before I knew it, 4 hours passed and it felt only like 20 minutes; I really dropped the ball on my hydration game today because of it. I'm sorry about that; I can't exactly implore you to take good care of yourself if I'm not being attentive to the maintenance of my own body, right? So I'll do better tomorrow.

Oh right - speaking of pokey things, though I got the first dose of an HPV vaccine yesterday, and to my surprise, I feel pretty much unaffected by it today. I had heard that this one can sometimes knock people on their ass, and I'm glad that my DNA seems to be such that this isn't the case. Or maybe it's just that this one isn't as bad as I had heard. Either way, I'm not sad about the fact that I don't feel like hot garbage today! Gotta appreciate the little things, right?

After we did a decent amount of work, J, Br, and I left the library to take a walk in its general vicinity. It was almost 60 degrees F in my area today (or 15.5 degrees C if metric is your thing); the walk was lovely. But my brain was still "extended-tendrils-esque" from cutting wire for such a long time, so I was quiet (but not in bad spirits!) for most of it; I'm glad that I get to spend time in the company of folks who don't mind when I'm not animated. The fact that I don't have to mask my autistic traits with Br and J takes a lot of the pressure off of existing in general.

Oh, um! Maybe you don't know what Tendril Theory is. Here's something that can explain it; I didn't make this:

I wished you could come on the walk with us. I passed some interesting-looking houses that I didn't take pictures of, because it seems maybe a little rude to take a picture of a specific person's house without their permission. But one of the houses had a lot of bits and baubles hanging from their trees and shrubs and trellises; it was a marvelous sight to witness. I think my favorite decoration was the glass grapes hanging from a cute-looking trellis. I wish you could have seen them; they were VERY sparkly. I wonder if you would have liked to look at them, too.

We have since returned home, and M continues to go through the second portion of your story. He's finishing up the quests around Cosmo Canyon. It's a beautiful area, and it's wonderful to get a glimpse of the architecture and the handicrafts and the local flora and fauna. I love that there are descriptions of the wild creatures (it makes me sad to hear them be called "fiends") and their dispositions, diets, life cycles, and whatever else. It's like reading through one of those old Wildlife Fact File binders - we had one of these things when I was a little girl; if you've been reading my letters, I imagine you won't be surprised to learn that this was one of my favorite things to read when I was young, haha!

Oh. Right. You… probably have no idea what that looks like. Here:

They're super thick binders filled with folding pages all about some of the animals in my world:

I kinda wish I could send along one of these to you, somehow. I know from watching M wander around that your world has a lot of the same animals that mine does, but we don't have things like chocobos or dragons or cockatrices or basilisks, so I wonder if there are animals in my world that you don't have.

Oh! You know. It occurs to me that you don't have horses in your world. I think maybe you might like horses, so maybe sometime I'll write to you about them. But not today, because I'm tired. Though you can probably tell I'm tired, since I'm rambling. Haha...

Hey, Sephiroth? I wonder if you have a favorite animal. I know you can't tell me what it is (because obviously), but still I'll ask. I'll ask because everyone deserves to have someone care enough about them to ask what their favorite animal is. As for me… it's kind of a toss-up between orcas and barn owls. If you don't have those, maybe I'll tell you about those, too, in some other letter.

Please stay safe out there in the meantime. There are lots of people in my world who are counting on you to turn yourself around and come back in one piece, so try really hard, okay? I'll be cheering for your healing and recovery, because these things are possible, no matter how far we fall down.

I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[plethoraworldatlas]

Conservation groups have filed an appeal asking Gov. Jay Inslee to order the Washington Fish and Wildlife Commission to draft enforceable rules that limit when the state can kill endangered wolves for conflicts with livestock.

The appeal, filed late Monday, seeks a reversal of the commission’s Oct. 28 denial of the groups’ formal petition for enforceable livestock-wolf conflict rules.

“The governor has already directed state wildlife managers to reduce wolf killing in response to livestock conflicts, but stronger action is clearly needed,” said Amaroq Weiss, senior wolf advocate at the Center for Biological Diversity. “Despite Gov. Inslee’s clear orders, the state is killing more wolves than ever. With no rules in place to make wolf-killing a last resort, we expect things will get even worse.”

Since 2012, 53 state-endangered wolves have been killed in Washington for actual or claimed conflicts. Of those killed, 75% have been killed by the state on behalf of the same livestock-owning family, which fails to take adequate steps to protect its cattle. And 75% of those wolves killed have been shot for conflicts that occurred on public lands. Sixteen of the wolves, or nearly one-third of all those killed, were shot in just the past three years.

In 2019 Gov. Inslee asked that wolf managers “significantly reduce the need for lethal removal of this species.” In 2020 Gov. Inslee again directed state wildlife managers to amend their rules when he granted an appeal filed by wildlife conservationists.

Because the commission still has not adopted rules, wildlife groups filed a new wolf rulemaking petition in September. This week’s appeal seeks a reversal of the commission’s October denial of that rulemaking petition.

The groups proposed amending an existing rule to provide clarity to the agency, livestock operators and the public. Requested amendments would:

-Require livestock operators to use appropriate nonlethal methods to prevent conflict between livestock and wolves before the agency could consider killing wolves.

-Require the agency to develop mitigation plans for areas of chronic conflict.

-Establish standards for what constitutes effective range riding to best protect livestock.

-Prohibit killing of wolves on public lands or for conflicts that occur on public lands.

-Set basic limits on the number of wolves that could be killed and length of time a kill order could remain open.

Additional requested amendments would restore the “caught in the act of attacking” provision to its original form as it existed in the 2011 state wolf plan. Under the expanded version adopted in 2013, in more than two-thirds of the incidents the evidence has shown wolves were not in fact attacking when they were shot and killed.

“The commission has missed multiple opportunities over the past decade to adopt rules to reduce wolf killing and lessen livestock losses,” said Weiss. “The governor himself has demanded the same, twice. Unfortunately, the state wildlife department continues to ignore the science and mislead the public, and that harms wolves, livestock, science and trust in state wolf management.”