#a bit cracky

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Welcome back everyone to the great British bake off!

Here we can now introduce our surprise guest judge!

He's fun loving, people loving, an all around fabulous guy, he’s also already promised to take Mary Berry out for dinner. Everyone give it up at home for Dani!

• Dani what are your expectations for you teammates? "I've had Jamie's baking, very good. Roy is good but Phoebe normally does all the actual ingredients part so he's a bit unknown. I think if we eat anything by Colin or Isaac we might die. And Sam will put his heart into anything though."

So high expectations and no mercy even though their your friends?

Dani throws his head back with a laugh, yes for the folks at home his hair is that pretty in person also.

"No mercy, they would be brutal if they were up here judging also."

You heard it Britain! He's going to crush their hopes and dreams!

———————

And now we come back. It’s the final round, in case you missed it, Colin has been eliminated for catching the mixer on fire. Sam and Jamie are in a neck and neck race to the finish. Roy is looking cool as a cucumber, he’s ahead schedule. Isaac is just waiting for the ice cream to set

•Dani who do you think will win this. “Jamie is looking as hot as he normally does but I know Roy is a killer.” He says with a laugh.

Paul Hollywood is by Jamie’s station right now, let’s tune in.

“You really think you can do this in time? The roses? The caramel?” Jamie laughs and leans across the bench, Roy fumbles the cake pan he’s holding when he looks up. “Paul I can do anything or anyone.” Paul laughs turning away.

Well for the viewers at home who might’ve missed that look, Jamie made Paul blush!

•Roy there was almost a tragedy can you say what caused it? “Not if we intend keep the pg rating.” Right! Moving on from that horny or threatening comment!

It’s coming down to the wire, Isaac and Sam are still panic decorating, Jamie has finished early, where is he’s now? Oh. There. He’s now sitting on Roy’s counter while Roy finishes they seem to be talking about what happens when the other loses. Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone else we can’t air the conversation they are having and to quote Roy here “if we intend to keep this pg.”

• Colin has joined in on the judging everyone, what’s your thoughts. “Sam’s is fabulous, bit wonky but good. Roy’s is as good as I expected, sweet but tastes homemade. Jamie’s is honestly incredible I have no clue how he did fake roses. Isaac mate I love you but you switched the salt and sugar, I literally can’t eat this”

Well everyone I’d say that this was a very successful bake off, and we’d like to announce our winner now. It was a close match, Sam you really nailed that first round, Roy you came in strong the second, Jamie you killed it in the final.

We are proud to announce that Jamie Tartt has won this episode of Bake off! Congratulations! You’re charity gets 50,000 and of course everyone else’s gets 20,000 because there’s no losing in bake off.

It’s been a great time hosting, can’t wait to see you all again soon!

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[jegulily-stuff]

My secret favourite regulily dynamic is Reg falling out with his ideology and family and just replacing it with complete hero worship of Lily. He finds out how powerful she is, the ancient magic she's capable of, and she's even kind to him. He's lost without a cult focus and someone to follow and just makes a new one for himself.

Lily's stuck between thinking it's hilarious and thinking it's sweet. She uses him as a test subject for her potions because he never complains and just wants to be useful to her. There's a collage of newspaper articles about her on the wall.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

teenage menaces

wc: ~850; context: set a few months into the last year of Aldera, Toshinori baits Bakugou into a fist-fight and they got in trouble with admin. this was mostly me testing out whether or not I could write Bakugou without stepping into the bashing zone. izuku pov.

//

The three of them wait outside the classroom: Kacchan impatiently, Izuku anxiously, and Yagi cheerfully.

“Yagi-san, what if you get expelled?” Izuku hisses, weaving his fingers together to stop them from twitching.

“Then I’ll get homeschooled? Honestly, Midoriya-kun!” He laughs under his breath, grinning way too big for a boy who got in trouble for beating up the star pupil of Aldera. Kacchan—looks small, next to him. Small and furious, like he doesn’t know the right way to get Yagi to shut up and sit down. Izuku prays that Kacchan never finds out that Yagi is actually All Might. Something might really break.

“Shut the hell up,” Kacchan snarls. “I can’t hear what they’re saying.”

“Ah, if I know my old man…”

“I told you to shut up!”

“You don’t want to place a bet on it, Bakugou-shonen?”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING ‘YOUNG’?!”

The door swings open to reveal a pale-faced principal and a deeply unimpressed Gran Torino. The latter is out of uniform, but the clean-cut fashion of the button-up and slacks does an effective job at communicating Torino’s professionalism. He swipes the end of his cane at Yagi’s ankle, and Yagi yelps and jumps in surprise.

“Who are you calling ‘old man’?” Torino snaps.

“Sorry,” Yagi says unapologetically. “What’s gonna happen, jii-san?”

“You’re suspended for three days,” the old man announces, and because Yagi looks delighted at not having to attend school, meaning Kacchan looks furious at this apparent light sentence, the principal valiantly steps in.

“You’ll obviously have assignments over this period, to reflect on your actions. And Bakugou-kun must have an apology made to him.”

“I don’t want his stupid apology!” Kacchan spits.

“Fujita-san,” says Torino, “I believe I told you what was going to happen. I’ll get the parents’ permission. They might even be happy about seeing their son in action, if the boy wants to be a hero. Just get me two teachers.”

“Torino-san, this is a deeply improper way to handle the situation—!”

“The entire way you’re running your school is improper,” he drawls. “Don’t worry, it’s not an issue unique to your administration. I know what I’m doing, and I know my boy. He won’t be the one hitting below the belt.”

Izuku connects the dots faster than either Kacchan or Yagi. He blurts out, “Are you having them fight?”, and two blond heads whip around to stare (or glare) him down, then back at each other. Yagi’s grin widens. 

Torino says mildly, “In martial arts classes, they call it a spar. Clears the head, knowing the hierarchy… of who’s better.”

The principal’s distress is palpable. “It’s not legal,” he protests.

“I’d win,” Kacchan declares, bristling. Izuku bites his tongue to stop himself from trying to intervene. This is not a fair fight that Torino is setting up; however Quirkless Yagi is, he hasn’t lost the experience of his time as All Might, and with all the training that Torino’s put them through, his muscle memory and reflexes are sharp. Just because Torino is promising to get parental and teacher supervision—god, it’s a whole trap. Kacchan can’t beat Yagi unless Yagi overestimates him. It would take a legitimate miracle for Yagi to lose.

“I don’t know, jii-san,” Yagi says playfully. “Isn’t that a little mean to Bakugou-kun? He won’t be able to use his Quirk in the fight.” Unlike today, his smile says. 

“You need a Quirk to punch someone down?” Torino responds, and he rolls his eyes at Yagi’s tone. “That’s when you cross into villain territory. No. This is going to be good old-fashioned fisticuffs.”

Does Kacchan sense it? He must. He’s never been an idiot. The way his eyes dart down to Torino, assessing, attempting to reassess the old man’s threat level, to so casually propose arranging a fight between two fifteen year olds—Kacchan knows the shape of the trap, then. It just depends on whether he believes he can win.

And Kacchan, Izuku knows, believes in winning.

“Midoriya-kun,” the principal suddenly says, and Izuku flinches at the sheer hope in the man’s tone. “You’ve known Bakugou-kun for a long time. Did he start the fight?” 

The weight of all their eyes is overwhelming. His loyalty is being torn two ways, and he doesn’t know who to save. If he stops this fight, and denies Kacchan the chance to show off his skills and heart, Kacchan will hate him. If he stops this fight, and affirms that Yagi threw the first punch, then—All Might won’t hate him. The wry twist to Yagi’s smile is basically a blessing to disavow his fellow Quirkless classmate.

But Izuku doesn’t want to disappoint All Might, or even Gran Torino.

He trembles, breathes shakily, and says, “Kacchan would never miss a fight he couldn’t win,” and in the time his audience takes to process, Izuku quite deliberately sides with Yagi. Not hiding. Standing elbow to elbow, in solidarity.

Kacchan’s face twists. “Deku,” he hisses.

“Focus, boy,” Torino says, and his cane clacks against the linoleum flooring. “Your fight’s with Toshinori. That is, if your parents agree to supervise.”

“What if they’re too busy?” 

“We’ll find a time.”

[seas-of-silver]

Did the doctor say "triplets"?!🤭

‘Did the doctor say "triplets"?!’ Rose burst excitedly as Adrien and Marinette walked through the door of Alya and Nino’s home for their monthly Akuma Class (and friends) game day. ‘Oh, please let it be triplets!’

‘Wha-’ Marinette began.

‘No, I’m sure it’s twins,’ Mylène cut in, just as animatedly as Rose was.

‘Guys, it could be a single child,’ said Marc calmly.

‘Or quadruplets,’ Nathaniel suggested teasingly, earning him a playful elbow from Marc and a squeal of delight from the girls.

‘The real question is whether it’s a boy or a girl,’ interjected Kim.

‘And if there’s more than one, how many of which gender!’ added Ivan, looking over his shoulder. ‘Max?’

Max was sitting at the kitchen counter, paper everywhere, pen scribbling, and tapping away at the calculator. ‘Hang on. I’m almost done my calculations - Markov’s just getting me more information on their genetic history.’

‘How-’ Adrien started.

‘What about you, Alix?’ Luka prompted.

‘Hey, don’t look at me,’ Alix replied, holding her hands up by her head. ‘Even if I do know, I can’t tell you.’

Everyone grumbled at that.

‘Guys, what’s going on?’ Adrien asked, finally getting their friends’ attention.

‘We are speculating on the quantity and gender of yours and Marinette’s unborn child/children,’ Kagami informed them.

‘Right… and why now?’ questioned Marinette.

‘Because you two went to the doctors,’ answered Félix, as if that explained everything.

Marinette frowned and folded her arms. ‘And how did you find out we were at the doctors?’

Their friends went silent, but their eyes flickered, glanced, or even outright stared at Nino, who looked everywhere except at his best friends.

‘Seriously, Nino?’

Nino winced at Marinette’s unimpressed tone.

‘All I said was that you guys would be late because you had an appointment before coming over!’ he defended.

Marinette turned her gaze to Alya, who nodded.

‘It’s true,’ Alya confirmed. ‘They just took it and ran with it.’

‘But how could we not?’ piped up Socqueline. ‘We had our catch-up brunch pushed back to a late lunch because you weren’t feeling well, and when we did meet, you hardly touched the cold meats and cheeses like you normally would!’

‘Couldn’t that just be because she still wasn’t feeling well?’ Juleka muttered.

‘And Adrien has been super protective over you for the last few months,’ Zoe stated.

‘But isn’t that because of the threats she was getting from that competing designer from the competition held earlier this week?’ Sabrina asked curiously.

‘Geez, who’s side are you two on?’ Rose huffed petulantly at Juleka and Sabrina; the two merely shrugging in response.

‘Let’s just calm down, okay? We’ll tell you what happened,’ Adrien soothed, sharing a look with Marinette, and everyone settled down - even Max stopped his calculating and Markov stuck his head out of the study to listen in.

‘We went to the optometrist,’ Marinette began, and she could already see interest drop, ‘because Adrien wanted to make sure he wouldn’t need glasses like Gabriel did-‘

‘Booooooo! Gabriellll!’ came the predictable jeers from their friends. Ever since the truth was revealed about Adrien’s father, all their friends rallied around him in support, offering food, shelter and safe spaces for Adrien to find comfort in, which meant a lot to him.

‘-and we found out that Adrien’s vision is perfectly fine!’

Mutterings of how that was good news filled the room, but it was clearly not the content they were hoping for.

‘So that’s where we were this morning,’ Adrien said to their despondent crowd. ‘Oh, and we also visited Maman and Papa at the bakery to pick up the pastries for our meet-up, and to tell them they’ll be grandparents to a little boy in six months time.’

Marinette watched as their friends’ eyes widened when their words sunk in, and covered her ears and laughed at the chaos and screams of joy that exploded from their friends.

~/~

Ask game: Give me the first sentence and I'll write a short piece for it!

[mister-eames]

That image of jgl in 500 days of summer in the dressing gown??? that's arthur, having just returned home from a long job, jet lagged and completely in need of coffee

Eames is desperate.

He knows Arthur won't appreciate him showing up at his actual place of residence. They have a thing, alright, and they do this thing in hotel rooms, motel rooms, safehouses and once, memorably, in a one-man tent, but it's an unspoken rule that they do not attempt to cross the threshold, the boundary, the personal demarcation of entering into ones actual home and into their personal space.

Needs must, however. Eames has six angry Russians with his name in their black book and he's only just managed to lose the tail. He needs to drop off the radar. If there is anywhere in the world more off the radar other than the mariana trench, it's here. Arthur's home.

Picking the lock, Eames does momentarily worry that he may burst into flame upon entering, or that arrows may shoot down the hallway out of the photo frames lining the walls, or perhaps a high security laser system may send him fleeing. No such things happen, to his relief.

He tiptoes into the kitchen, where he appears he isn't completely out of danger.

In one hand Arthur has a pistol raised and aimed squarely at Eames chest. In the other is a mug of what smells like coffee.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur asks evenly.

Eames stares. This man is not Arthur. It can't be.

Arthur lifts his coffee to his mouth, drinking a large mouthful at the same he takes the safety off with a definitive click.

"...You're wearing a dressing gown," Eames replies, dazedly.

It must be the culmination of exhaustion, somnacin and dehydration and being on the run these last two day. He blinks once, twice, but the mirage is still there.

Arthur is still in a dressing gown. He is still in slippers, hair a mess. He has stubble. He looks... cozy.

"Are you sick?" Eames asks.

"No -?" Arthur lowers the gun, looking at himself with a frown. "I just got off a job," he says, as if that explains anything, "and I said what are you doing here?"

"Need a place to lie low," Eames says, entranced by the way the gown is loosely held together with a grey, fraying belt, feeling the inexplicable urge to tug on it. To grip the soft lapels and tug those too. He swallows. "And a glass of water, please."

Arthur looks at him for a long moment. With a sigh, he clicks the safety back on and shoves the gun into his belt. He gestures to a kitchen stool. "Sit down before you fall down, idiot."

Eames sits down and gets his glass of water. The dressing gown, miraculously, doesn't disappear after he drinks it. Arthur cooks him up a plate of scrambled egg while Eames world-view is rapidly rearranging itself, and chews Eames out for compromising his home. Potentially, Eames reminds him. And then Eames draws him in for a kiss - mostly to stop his grumbling, but also because Eames may have missed his sweet, scowly face. Just a little. And he doesn't know how to ask for more salt without offending Arthur.

Arthur stops grumbling. Mostly. Then they do that thing in Arthur's kitchen. And on his sofa. And then in his bed.

Arthur keeps wearing the dressing gown. Like a fly caught in the web of a playful spider, he keeps Eames around too. Eames isn't sure which is more bewildering.

They do get good use out of the soft belt, in any case. It makes for a great blindfold.

----

One year later

----

Ariadne is desperate.

She knows Arthur won't appreciate her showing up at what she suspects to be his actual place of residence, but he had given her these coordinates under the condition that they were to be used in the, quote, 'most dire, most urgent, life-or-death emergencies'.

This was definitely that.

She isn't proud of the way that her fingers trembled while she picked the front door locks, the way Eames taught her. But needs must. Needs must.

She enters, worried that she's about to enter a veritable torture lair. Like maybe there will be shackles and chains and weapons everywhere and Arthur will be awoken from some kind of hibernation. Like a vampire bat. It is daylight, after all.

What she finds, as she passes through the hallway and enters the living space, indeed has her blood running cold.

There was a collection of well-worn Goosebumps books on the coffee table. There is direct sunlight and soft fabrics and pictures of what she presumes is Arthurs family - his friends. It could only be a home. That wasn't the most horrifying part.

No, what perturbs her the most was the unexpected, disgusting display on domesticity in front of her.

Eames and Arthur are sat at their dining table over plates of still-steaming bacon and eggs. Eames is reading a newspaper, in his pyjamas, three days worth of scruff along his lower face. They wordlessly pass salt and pepper and don't even seem to notice she's there until her sneakers squeak on the hardwood.

And Arthur, he --

"What are you doing here?" Arthur asks evenly, finally looking up.

He points his fork at her, which she finds vaguely threatening. She has seen what Arthur can do with a plastic spoon. A stainless steel utensil for Arthur is practically a bazooka.

"You're wearing a dressing gown," she says, dazed.

Eames lowers his newspaper then, smiling at Arthur and then at her. "Leave him alone, dove. He just got off a job." He nudges a mug towards Arthur who takes a sullen mouthful. "To what do we owe the honour?"

We?

Bewildered, She watches Eames watching Arthur, who is watching them both, struck by the out-of-placeness of it all. This placed looks lived in. They both look comfortable and scruffy. They are wearing each others mismatched socks. The TV in the living room is playing CNN, for christ sake. This is a goddamn residence. They live together.

"I didn't realise you two were -- uh --"

Arthur sets his mug down. "Is this an emergency or what? Eames, can you.. -"

He trails off but Eames seems to know what he means, rising from his chair to plate Ariadne a serving of bacon and eggs.

"It's an emergency," Ariadne confirms, taking a seat and digging in. God. The eggs need so much salt. "I need your help."

"Go on."

She takes a deep breath. "Yusuf asked me out."

"Oh dear," says Eames solemnly.

[the-quiet-fire-of-defiance]

Te Hōkioi, and Speculation on the Dietary Habits of the Great Eagles

He Hōkioi, i runga, he Hōkioi, i runga, hū.

(The great eagle, from above, made a booming call)

Kei te āputa koe, nā, o te rangi, e noho ana,

(In the open space, there, in the sky, it dwells)

Te hoa moenga, nō whatitiri mātakataka;

(Death's companion, with crashing thunder)

Hei aha, tērā, e tararua mārire, ona hikumaro?

(Why, then, do its tail feathers no longer split the quiet in two?)

Rua maro tonu, ona hakikau;

(Two fathoms wide, its wings;)

E huhū nei, i runga te rangi,

(It called, above in the sky)

Hōkioi, Hōkioi.

(The sound: hōkioi, hōkioi.)

- poem/chant by the great Ngāti Toa chief Te Rauparaha

For @tolkienofcolourweek, I'm spending seven days bringing Māoritanga and mātauranga Māori to the world of Tolkien! Starting off on day 1 with: what did Manwë's Eagles eat?

Such massive animals, especially flying ones, would have required a huge caloric intake. We have little evidence about what potential prey may have existed in Beleriand and Middle Earth. The Hobbit mentions them eating sheep, and it seems likely that they would hunt other large animals, such as deer or bison. But there's nothing in our modern world that compares to or fills an ecological niche like Manwë's Eagles.

This is where I draw on Māori oral history of the largest eagles to ever live.

In English they're called Haast's Eagles, but in Māori there are several names. Probably the most well-known of the Māori names is pouakai/poukai, but my people called them hōkioi.

They were massive, weighing as much as 17.8 kg (about 39 lbs) and with wingspans as large as 3 metres (about 10ft). Their feet and claws were the size of modern day tigers, capable of punching through bone. They hunted prey more than fifteen times their own size.

(Granted, the eagles of Manwë are much larger than even the hōkioi! Still, it's similar enough for me to draw inspiration.)

[Left image: an artist's rendition of a hōkioi perched on a rock. Right image: an artist's rendition of a hōkioi attacking the neck of a giant flightless bird.]

The hōkioi's primary prey was the moa, large flightless birds similar to ostriches or emus. With no large land mammals on the islands, hōkioi were the apex predators.

Then, circa 900 CE, large mammals came to Aotearoa for the first time. They also preyed on moa, reducing the hōkioi's food supply. So perhaps it was natural that the hōkioi began to hunt these mammals as new prey.

Unfortunately, those mammals were us.

[Left image: an artist's rendition of a hōkioi attacking a Māori man who holds a spear. Right image: an artist's rendition of a child running from a hōkioi.]

Our stories of the hōkioi, or pouakai, tell of giant birds that could swoop down from the sky to kill and eat even strong warriors. They were also known to carry off small children.

I'm not saying that the eagles of Manwë ate elves or humans. (I think they were probably given firm instructions not to!) It would make sense for them to prey on orcs and other creatures of Morgoth, though. And there's one other group who we know were hunted like animals in Beleriand, due to... misunderstandings. A group who the Eagles may not have initially recognized as sentient creatures. A group who would have been an ideal size to pick up and carry off as a snack.

I'm just saying, I think there may have been multiple reasons that dwarves chose to live underground.

-

(Sources for further information about te hōkioi:

The man-killer that fell from the sky

NZ Birds: Haast's Eagle)

[pastadoughie]

Do you take voice requests

i mean sure? but also i dont think my voice is nice 2 listen 2 so idk how much people would even want that

i do talk for real when i am explaining voice related things but not rlly anytime else "the beast speaks (for real)" is the tag if u wana hear ig

idk i just dont rlly think it adds much of anything 2 my posts? and im not a big fan of my voice, sooo i probabley wont be doing many

[gophergal]

Gopher's Dumb TF2 Headcanons #4

Engineer speaks some German. Specifically, he speaks Texas German, as his mother was a second generation German immigrant.

As soon as Medic learned about this, he was ecstatic and banned English from being spoken in the infirmary when they collaborated on projects.

[kickassclefable]

MossuGoji date

sorry for your loss, haters

[zappedbyzabka]

Thinking of writing a leisure fic where Johnny’s harem fully gets to bloom.

Like, clearly he could have been with any of the Cobras. Literally the only things they have consistently showed care and interest in is Johnny or one another and that’s....yeah.

( Bobby and Dutch were so damn obvious about it.)

Daniel, as much as he wishes he could despise Johnny, just doesn’t. He thinks he’s a pretty and likes his hair, and I’m sure if he got the chance he would have punched Johnny in the mouth then made out with him right after. So many overwhelming feelings about each other.

Freddy and Eddie (the boy that drove up in his car to say hi to Ali.) Freddy just being a casual fling when he first started sneaking around. Might have even fooled around with him just a little before he did with the Cobras (because there was that friendship aspect he was afraid of ruining.) Probably broke it off for a bit when he started getting with the Cobras because their possessiveness over him got stronger, so Freddy was feeling mopey, and that’s the reason he just watched Daniel try to fight Johnny besides knowing he’d get his ass kicked too. He was getting a little too into the fling, and the High School reunion is...Johnny calls him a pussy for not standing up for his little buddy. That makes Freddy even more bitter, esp combined with the looks he’s seen between Daniel and Johnny.

Eddie was mutually casual—man just wanted a couple of pieces of the pie and dgaf.

Johnny going on a trip to Okinawa and meeting a guy named Chozen...Coming back and meeting some batshit guy named Mike....

He must be a love witch or something.

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Jamie on their couch watching reruns of last nights match. He couldn’t care that they lost though. He’s winning. He has his daughter sitting on his chest, her baby shampoo from her bath time still swirling in the air.

He can hear Roy in the kitchen making a bottle for their kid. Their kid!! They have a kid!! Jamie still can’t believe it half the time.

Roy comes back into their living room, passing the bottle to Jamie and sitting. Jamie switches around so he can lean against Roy while feeding Rosemary. A position they do quite often.

While their little 8 month old drinks, Jamie leans back and bites Roy’s jaw. Roy let’s put a quiet growl but all it does it make Rosie smile.

Jamie looks at Rosemary, he doesn’t understand how his dad could’ve possibly been so mean to such a small thing because that’s all Jamie was, he was this small once. His dad held him like this once. But it doesn’t matter now. Jamie has had a restraining order since they first talked about kids. His father is officially out of his life permanently.

He shakes those thoughts away. He’s looking forward to tonight. Almost a full three days off, Rosie is fully sleeping through the night, and with the most expensive baby monitor they can buy they finally have free time.

The things on Jamie’s agenda are.

Paint nails. Take shower with Roy. Do literally everything with Roy. Don’t let Roy out of sight until the next morning. Cuddle (and more) with Roy.

But right now as he looks down to Roy’s finger in Rosemary’s hand, he’s happy where he is.

[curiosity-killed]

Alphabet asks: E, F and Y

E - Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom? If so, what?

i mean, I think my various dumb comics are hilarious but. i'm not sure that counts:

lan zhan and jiang cheng 4ever

hua cheng tormented by xie lian's relationship with his foam roller

whipstitch BEAR ATTACK!! (in which i was the art + @lemeute the brains)

i feel like i have to have written some crack/have at least made myself laugh with my fics but scrolling thru my ao3......there is not. much

oh i guess i wrote some juniors crack which sort of turned into crack taken seriously but i'm counting it bc it opens with this:

“I’m going to say it,” Zizhen says abruptly. “Please don’t,” Jingyi says, voicing Sizhui’s own unuttered thoughts. “Why did no one tell us the Yiling Patriarch was so — so handsome?” Zizhen demands.

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom?

Y - What are your secondhand fandoms (i.e., fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)?

Both answered here!

fandom ABCs

[juniperhillpatient]

Ok next Happenstance chapter you’re getting “Community” & “How I Met Your Father” plots Hehe

[seas-of-silver]

Adrien looked up at the dark clouds and down at Marinette's hand in his and thought, "maybe that kiss in the rain I've always dreamed about will happen today."

Adrien looked up at the dark clouds and down at Marinette's hand in his and thought, "maybe that kiss in the rain I've always dreamed about will happen today."

He wasn't sure when he first started to desire for such a kiss. Perhaps it was the day that Marinette tried to return his umbrella to him, and the umbrella closing in on them, trapping them together in a moment that could've made the perfect scenario for a sneaky kiss as the waterproof fabric hid them from the world, keeping such a sacred moment between just the two of them. Possibly it was because of that time he and Marinette were standing in the rain, the air filled with tension before his father demanded he get in the car and go home to Paris. Or maybe it was when he first gave Marinette that umbrella on that wonderful day they first became friends - he had always felt more for her than "just a friend" (even if he didn't realise it until after that fateful day in the wax museum when their lips brushed due to her prank- wait, was it really a prank? He had to store that thought away for later), but maybe it became a subconscious desire that stemmed from that moment? Or perhaps it was because of his mother's guilty-pleasure go-to movie, The Notebook? Nah, it couldn't be that. But what about-

'Hey,' Marinette's gentle voice jolted him from his musings and he looked at her as they still stood under the shelter of their school entrance, 'a euro for your thoughts?'

'A euro?' Adrien repeated, amusement lacing his tone. 'My thoughts aren't that expensive.'

'I beg to differ,' she teased, smiling up at him, and he felt his breath escape him. 'Your thoughts are worth at least a hundred euros.'

'No, see, that's how much your thoughts are worth,' he countered with a grin, 'whereas mine are worth... yeah, five cents.'

'Liar,' she rebutted lightheartedly, 'but while we both know your thoughts are worth a thousand euros at minimum, we're getting off track - what were you thinking about?'

Right. His thoughts. About kissing. In the rain. He felt his face heat up quicker than a pan on a stovetop.

'I... uh, erm...' Adrien stammered.

She lay a hand on his arm and looked up at him sympathetically. 'If you can't say, that's okay.'

She had a heart of gold and he was going to cry- or propose- or do something stupid because he loved her so much. He had such an understanding girlfriend!

'I was just wondering about kisses in the rain and what it's be like if we kissed in the rain!' Adrien spat it all out so fast that he sure all Marinette heard was a garbled mess of vowels and consonants that didn't hold the slightest resemblance to the French language, yet somehow-

'You want to have a kiss in the rain?' she asked kindly.

All he could do was nod. It wasn't weird, right? To want to have a romantic movie moment where you kiss your love in the rain?

Silently taking his hand, she led him out into the rain. Their eyes never broke contact as they made their way further into the downpour. It was cold and uncomfortable as the chilly rain hit his clothes, hair and skin, but this was for love and for science! Well, maybe not science, but definitely for love and romance!

His hand cradled her cheek, just as her hand came up to his face. Perhaps when they were kissing they'd begin to feel warmer? He leaned forward, as did she, and their lips met. They were wet and tasted a little salty, and he was still cold. Maybe he needed to amp it up a little?

He deepened the kiss and held her closer, really giving the kiss his all. Kissing Marinette was always an absolute delight that made his heart flutter, just like it was doing now, but-

'I'm sorry, Marinette, but it's way too cold and all I can think about is us catching colds,' Adrien admitted as soon as he broke the kiss.

'Oh thank god,' Marinette sighed in relief, 'I thought I was the only one thinking that! Wanna head over to mine and warm up?'

Adrien could think of nothing more wonderful, and in lieu of responding, he took her hand and made a beeline for the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Soon, they were towel-dried, huddled in blankets like burritos and soothing the bone-deep cold with the molten heaven that was Marinette's special hot chocolates as they sat in front the heater.

'Better?' Marinette asked.

Adrien leaned over and kissed her soundly. Now this was how a kiss was meant to be!

'Yeah,' he admitted breathily, eyes fixated on her irresistible lips, already leaning in for another kiss, 'much better.'

~/~

Ask game: Give me the first sentence and I'll write a short piece for it!

[the-elusive-soleil]

I don't usually draw, but I was listening to the Grinch song and thinking Silm thoughts and this happened: