#big beak big angy

[helledraws]

shoebill stork

[circeius-invidioso]

👏🏻 Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay.👏🏻

Those 4 Liber books. Which ones you may ask.

These ones.

Now that we are all in the same page.

✨️Let's talk about them.✨️

Not good enough to be collected.

Not bad enough to be forgotten.

And not forget them we shall.

The tall and short of the story:

They are expansion packs to the main tabletop rpg game. And you guessed correctly it add daemons etc etc.

That etc etc is.

Liber Ecstatica : Slaanesh and horny on main cults.

Liber Infectus : Nurgle and dirty plagues.

Liber Mutatis : Tzeentch and birdy mutations.

Liber Carnagia : Khorne and angy serial killers. (No the spelling error was on purpose. Cause our boy real angy)

+ an adventure on theme with the above.

A solid 3/ 10.

Unless you are a writer and need basic descriptions of daemons and fluff then its a decent 3.5/ 10.

Now.

Now that we dealt with that.

Its time.

For the tall and longer.

And in depth analysis and my personal ice cold takes and my thesis of - this would have been lit if we played the villains pov.

I could be talking about the latest books, hell I could be talking about dnd. But no me and you we are here and we are stuck and for the next 5 minutes I am the captain and I will take you on an adventure.

🐙Liber Mutatis - feat Dj BoBo and the Mutants are Alive🐙

Nothing gets me more going than referances that weren't funny even in 2007.

What the book adds to gameplay?

Mutations. From bird beaks to tentacle limbs in case you decide to multipraise Slaanesh on the side.

Because you aren't just a chicken worshipper, you are a wizard and what best way to show it that gaining an additional 30 eyeballs for all those books you want to read.

This book is your one stop to fond some very basic mutations to add to a game.

And when I say basic. I mean basic, don't expect great stuff. But I guess this might have been part of the plan...

What's the included adventure like?

You team goes in a town to find why all those apprentices have been taking such a long unauthorized day off.

Well they were kidnapped by a cult with a ringleader being a shop keeper with a Lord of Change tranformed as a parrot named Bobo that births pink eggs.

Then they feed those pink eggs to create mutant bird people.

Your job is to stop it. Not the most original ideal... but what would it be if you played the adventure from the cultists pov?

Dj Bobo and his gang of squidmen

You heard the adventure of the heroes. But how would it be if you were the bad guy?

🐙 One player would pretend to be the shopkeeper with his pet parrot that births oversized pink eggs and you have to smuggle them and hide the fact from the people who came to stop you in the city.

🐙 The second will be the immortal nun with only her face intact in the soup house cooking for the poor and using the eggs to create mutant by trying to convince the people that those pink eggs are totally edible what do you mean eggs are not pink. Maybe you are seeing things...

🐙 The third one is squidward at the gates. Basically a war veteran that lost his legs. But jokes on them. The big bird man gave you tentacles and you will be wizzing throught the sewers like a getski.

🐙 The fourth will be the person kidnapping those student wizard kids, bagging them up and send them to the ritual site alongside your grizzled unshaven gang of pain assistants.

🐙 Finally someone can even take the role of the bird. Blasting eggs before the time of the summoning happens when they will be blasting magic and turning the whole city into a lethal rave.

🪲Liber Infectus- Grandaddy Nurgle's Black Death Clown Parade🪲

If only I was joking... stick around and find out more...

What the book adds to gameplay?

A wide selection of how you and your players can seriously get down with the sickness.

Besides that all the basic nasty descriptions about the warps most unwashed denizens. Basic. But we all start from somewhere, like how a rash develops into a mouth and eats the person living next door.

What's the included adventure like?

Evil doctor spreads a plague you are there to stop it etc etc. You can see where this goes from the words "initial symptom development".

Those sick clowns I mentioned

On the final part of the adventure a clown parade, with music and performers and everything. Pops in town and is ready to kick pc ass.

And the only thing I got to say is.

Why can't I play their pov.

The idea of five sick honk honk clowns in a cart playing music and spreading the literal word on nurgle with a mutant strapped on the back. Sounds like a wild adventure.

It sounds a lot more enjoyable than sitting around asking people "so when did the first symptom begin and how are you feeling?"

Give me the clowns. With their dancing plague and their bouncing nurglings on a wacky adventure to evade the law.

Fast and furiously popping knees and bursting shins.

⚘️Liber Carnagia- Renaming Khorne into Gandhi ⚘️

Again. Wait and I will explain this as well.

What the book adds to gameplay?

Nothing. Of value. Is it obvious that this one was my least favorite?

Whats the included adventure like?

Theres a magical angy spear and your job is to be beaten down and not kill anyone. Just sit with your thumb-tacks up your ass and do nothing.

That's what the adventure is.

In the book of Khorne what you are asked to do is not fight anyone.

The irony is so deep, I screamed that's deep bro and a lovecraftian horror responded from the chasm "I know".

Putting the K of Killer back into Khorne

A murder hobo adventure. That's it. It's a lot better than going to a besieged nun house and sitting on the grass asking those raiders to pretty please let go of the hostages.

Chaos, mayhem. If I was the dm I'd put everyone in a nonr stop 4 hour rollercoaster of blood, guts, bullets and norwegian death metal music playing in the background before they all die gloriously into a massive raid burning imperial churches.

Then go to hell, become daemons and be yeeted back into the mortal world to kick even more ass.

🪷Liber Ecstatica- And the Dick Measuring Olympics 🪷

The title will again make sense soon I swear.

What the book adds to gameplay?

Cults, anything you need to know about a basic degenerate cult. From poison chuggers to vape huffers and even vegetable shovers.

This is your one stop to make a bare bones cult for your games.

What's the included adventure like?

A girl is being chased after many eligible bachelors of the city.

And your job is to stop them from doing so.

How did this adventure start?

A rich old dude didn't like that an "average" in his eyes poor, low noble had admirers. So obviously its witchcraft.

The reason is as sound as an airplane made of shredded cheese. And the book is weidly mean about it.

Like the girl is fine. But everyone is like "she is not a busty noble that cries gold so obviously theres foul play, also have I told you that she is average".

Oh the crimes against humanity. If the adventure began and the noble was like "yeah my son flayed himself while screaming her name" then sure. I'd be calling foul play.

Busting a Nut not Busting a Move

The same but instead of having 10 men fighting over a decent, everyday girl its Danny Devito art critic and the whole team tries to complete the ritual and avoiding the witch hunters from burning their "beauty".

We are already dealing with a daemon that has magically roofied the local men in order to be freed from a magical mirror. We might as well make it into a comedy skit.

This is a game about the ultimate degenerates, extreme is the only word we must know. And you know what would be even better.

All of the players are grade A spandex bdsm supermodels and have to promote gollum as a drop dead nuke level bombshell.

[goodlucktai]

a minute from home

tmnt 2k12 pairing: don & mikey word count: 7k title borrowed from the view between villages by noah kahan

read on ao3

x

Once, when Donnie and Mikey were very very small, they went the wrong way.

The tunnel they lived in at the time was safe and clean, and conveniently located near thrift stores and food banks, but during heavy rains it tended to flood.

So Splinter would pack the few precious items he could not stand to lose into a rucksack and then bundle up his turtles and lead them away to a safer place to wait out the storm. They had a lot of little halfway homes like that before they finally settled in the abandoned subway station that would become their forever home.

At barely three years old, Michelangelo was very farsighted. The condition of his eyes made things right in front of him look blurry. Figuring out that it was actually a condition and not silly Angie being his silly self took a lot of trial and error on their poor father’s part. There was no conceivable way for Splinter to provide him with prescription lenses, but the frames that he stole from a corner store seemed to do the trick. Mikey would probably grow out of the condition eventually but when he was little he depended on his glasses.

And Donnie was supposed to be holding his hand.

Donnie only had one younger brother to look after—he couldn’t imagine being Leo and being responsible for three—but even just one was hard sometimes. Donnie’s brain liked to outrun him, darting away after a hundred things all at once, and sometimes he forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

So Mikey didn’t have anyone holding his hand, and he tripped over the uneven tunnel floor and fell right on his face, and his glasses broke with a crunch.

The tunnel was so noisy, rain thundering against the street above them, drainage tumbling through the grates and pipes, that Donnie was the only one close enough to hear the crunch. To him, it was the loudest thing in the whole world.

His little heart flew up into his throat and he let go of Splinter’s robe to run back to his baby brother. Mikey looked up at him, and his beak was all scraped and sure to bruise, and there was a tiny smear of blood on his lip—but after a dizzy second to sort himself out, he gave Donnie a big smile. He was always totally unruffled by things. Even now, Donnie was closer to crying than Mikey was.

“Up, Angie,” he said frantically, tugging on him. “You okay?”

“Up up,” Mikey parroted, the way he had a habit of doing. He let himself be bullied to his feet, tottering unsteadily for a moment until he could latch onto Donnie’s sweater. “Angie’s okay!”

Letting out all his breath in a relieved sigh, Donnie patted Mikey’s head the way Leo always did, and then looked for his glasses. When he found them, he tried not to let his face crumple the way it felt like his tummy was. The lenses were cracked and the pink plastic frame was in pieces.

Mikey’s glasses were important and off-limits when he and his brothers were playing or roughhousing or being mean and teasing each other. Now they were broken.

“I’m okay, Dee,” Mikey insisted, pulling on his sleeve. He repeated himself in simple Japanese, and then added, “Prommy.”

Naturally, the four turtle siblings, all of them toddlers between the ages of three and six, considered a promise to be every bit as serious and blinding as a blood oath. When Mikey said it, Donnie knew that Mikey was really actually okay, and his heart stopped thumping behind his shell so hard.

“Prom-ise,” Donnie corrected automatically. He put the pieces of the broken glasses in his pocket and detached Mikey’s fingers from his sweater so he could hold them instead. “Let’s go back to papa.”

Only it wasn’t as easy as that, Donnie would realize after a minute of careful, measured steps, because around the bend there were two tunnels ahead of them. Donnie lifted his snout and sniffed, but it was too wet for his family’s passing scents to really linger, and the wind and moving water had stirred up other pungent, distracting smells besides.

It didn’t occur to him to be frightened, not yet. He was a very smart four year old, and very sheltered on top of that, thanks to a parent hellbent on protecting him and his siblings from a world that would not understand or appreciate them. He had never met anything he needed to be afraid of.

Besides, Angie was right there, holding his hand and humming their favorite song.

In another universe, Donnie followed Splinter through the right tunnel with his little brother toddling neatly along behind him. Mikey didn’t fall and his glasses didn’t break and Donnie didn’t get lost. They made it to their storm-time lair safely and fell asleep in a turtle pile with Raphie and Leo, snug and warm and exactly where they belonged. Nothing changed them and they were never apart.

In this one, they went the wrong way.  

#

When Raph was five years old, his little brothers disappeared in the middle of the night. It felt like they were gone for a billion years, but it was really only three months and two days. That’s ninety-one days. He knew because Leo carefully marked the squares on their waterlogged froggy calendar, a blue crayon frowny-face for each day that Splinter returned without them. It was a really long ninety-one days, though. He figured that was what a billion years must feel like.

“But where did they go?” Raph demanded.

The world wasn’t very big when he was little. There was their usual home, and the sometimes-homes they went to when the weather got noisy and the floors got wet, and the dark, cave-like tunnels in between. He didn’t understand why papa didn’t just go get his little brothers and bring them back, since there were only a few places they could be.

“They got lost,” Leo said in his quiet voice.

He didn’t use his loud voice very much anymore. Mikey was the best one at making him loud, at making Leo smile until his dimples popped out and run around all silly. That’s why Mikey needed to be here. Didn’t papa understand that?

Looking back as a teenager, Raphael understood the hell Splinter must have gone through. He couldn’t leave his two eldest by themselves for solid hours at a time to search for his youngest. It probably killed him to do it at all. And it definitely must have felt like he was failing Donnie and Mikey by not devoting all his time and energy solely to finding them. He kept searching for long after some parents would have given up.

But when Raph was five, he didn’t get it. He missed his little brothers so much it made feel sick and he wanted Loud Leo back and it was frustrating that he kept waking up and going to sleep and waking up without them. He felt angry all the time, stomping around the lair and slamming things and talking back instead of being good.

When twenty squares had been marked on their calendar—that’s two tens, a whole lot of days—Raph spotted a pile of the big kid books that Donnie loved. Sometimes the books were all wet when Splinter brought them home, and they had to sit in front of the fan for ages until the pages could be touched without tearing apart. The books ended up looking bloated and misshapen when they were dried, but they were Don’s treasures. He would read them out loud to his siblings if they asked nice, his lisping voice trudging steadily along, picking its way stubbornly through words he didn’t know. Papa seemed very surprised the first time he heard Donnie read—he was almost as good as Leo, who was two whole years older than him—and Splinter’s surprise made Raph feel proud. That was his smarty-pants little brother.

But on that day, seeing the books just made Raph angry. He kicked the whole stack until it collapsed in a messy pile that would have made Donnie cry, and that wasn’t enough, so he picked up one of the books and threw it as far as he could. He did it again, and again, until the books were scattered all around the room.

Leo watched him with wide eyes the whole time, but he didn’t shout at Raph to stop or go tattle on him to papa. He was Quiet Leo. He only got up when Raphie started crying and all he did was put his arms around Raph and squeeze him tight until he ran out of tears. Then he led Raph by the hand around the room and together they carefully picked the books back up and smoothed out the bent pages and stacked them neatly on the far side of the toy shelf.

It was so that Donnie would be happy when he finally came home. But also it was so that Raph wouldn’t have to see them all the time.

And then on day ninety-one, they didn’t mark another square on the calendar. They didn’t need to. The door burst open, and Splinter returned a lot of minutes before he said he would—the big hand on the clock had barely moved all the way from six to seven! And he was talking in lullaby-soft Japanese, too quiet to be for Raph and Leo all the way over in the kitchen, so he must have been talking to someone else.

Leo jumped to his feet so fast he knocked his juice over and then Raph figured it out a second later. Bundled in the blanket in papa’s arms were their little brothers, their missing halves, safe and sound and finally back where they belonged.

“Tello, Angie,” Leo was saying, up on his tiptoes and tugging at the front of Splinter’s robes, reaching up as high as he could. His blue eyes were all wet, mouth wobbling. “Tello, Angie—are you okay? Are they okay, papa?”

“They are cold and hungry,” Splinter said gently. “Will their older brothers look after them while I heat water for a bath?”

It had been a billion years since Raphie wasn’t the littlest brother, but he hadn’t forgotten how to be bigger. When Splinter knelt to set the blanket on the floor, Raph reached right in and pulled Donnie into his arms. And then he sat down so he could hug Donnie all the way around, dragging him into his lap like a stuffed animal. Donnie didn’t hug back, but Raph didn’t care. Raph squeezed him tight enough for two turtles. For a hundred turtles. If he held on tight enough, Donnie wouldn’t ever get lost again.

Mikey’s eyes were squinted all the way shut, like the cat in their Wonderland coloring book. He didn’t even open them when he clicked wetly at Leo, an anxious-excited turtle sound that meant hello, here-I-am, hello. He should have opened his eyes, so he could tell how much Leo loved him and was happy to see him, but Leo didn’t mind. And he didn’t mind when Mikey just pressed his cold little face against Leo’s neck instead. Leo just put his cheek on the top of Mikey’s head and hummed turtle sounds back to him.

Donnie finally curled one hand into the front of Raph’s shirt and clung to it. When Raph looked down, he saw that it was because Donnie’s other hand was already holding something pink and plastic. It was so grimy and all twisted out of shape that it took Raph a minute to remember what it was.

“Are those Mikey’s glasses?” he asked. “Are they broken?”

His lip wobbling, Donnie nodded.

“That’s okay,” Raph rushed to say immediately, anything to keep him from crying. He knew that whatever happened must have been an accident, because Mikey was silly but harmless and Donnie was always careful not to break things unless he could rebuild them. “You did a good job keeping them safe.”

It must have been the right thing to say, since Don didn’t burst into tears. He felt big and strong when Donnie leaned his head on Raph’s shoulder. His big red eyes were drooping, like he was sleepy, but the set of his mouth was the very stubborn one Raph was familiar with from a million bedtimes.

Sure enough, he fought sleep tooth and nail, and he was still awake when papa came back. Splinter rubbed Raphael’s cheek with his thumb fondly before he lifted Donnie away. Donnie immediately stretched both of his arms out for Mikey, so Leo reluctantly let Splinter take him, too. Mikey still didn’t open his eyes, but he made a wide-awake chirp at Splinter and knew exactly where Splinter’s muzzle was when he reached up with his hands to pat it. Splinter nuzzled his tiny hands carefully, and then the top of Donnie’s head, holding them tight against his heart.

Raph and Leo followed Splinter so closely that they nearly stepped on his hem and his tail more than once. The big basin they used for bathing was full of steaming water and the shimmery rainbow sheen of soapy bubbles. Splinter lowered Donnie and Mikey in first, and then sighed when Raph and Leo splashed right in after them, but it wasn’t his exasperated-sigh, or even his you’re-about-to-be-in-trouble one. This one sounded the way his love-yous sounded, warm and laughing.

They ate ramen for supper, and Raph and Leo had extra noodles because Donnie and Mikey were supposed to only drink the broth. They got the last applesauce cups in the cooler, though, so it wound up being fair.

And when it was time to go to sleep, papa curled around them the way he used to do when they were babies, keeping the dark and the cold far away. Raphie asked him to leave the lamp on and retrieved a special Magic Tree House book from where he had been keeping it under his pillow. It was the one Donnie had been reading to them before that stormy night took him away.  

He felt his brothers press in close around him. Leo was hugging Donnie against him the way he’d hugged Mikey earlier, and Mikey’s head was pillowed on Raph’s plastron, the tiny curve of his shell fitting in Raph’s arm perfectly. The tip of Splinter’s tail swept idly back and forth, creating a playful swooping shadow in the lantern light.

Raph felt funny, like he wanted to cry and laugh at the same time, but he took a deep breath and found the right spot on the page. He had been practicing.

“Annie knelt down and put her arms around Barry’s giant head,” Raph read carefully, tracing the way with his finger. “He licked her as she clutched him. “Tell him, Annie,” Jack urged her. Annie lifted Barry’s ear and whispered into it for a long time. Jack couldn’t hear all that she said, but he caught the words ‘love’ and ‘all my life’.”

He wasn’t as good at it as Donnie and Leo, but no one interrupted him once. Even Mikey laid still and listened without squirming or singing to himself.

Raph read for them until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. When he woke up in the morning, Dogs in the Dead of Night had fallen shut in his hands, and his brothers had twisted and turned in their sleep, and Splinter was preparing breakfast across the room—but besides that, everything was exactly where Raphael had left it. Nothing else had gone missing in the dark.

It would take a lot more days than just that one for him to stop being worried about it, though.

#

For pretty much as long as Leo could remember, Donnie and Mikey had always been on each other’s team first. They were the textbook example of a dynamic duo. It would be cute, if it wasn’t so annoying.

“Donnie,” Leo said in a level tone, reaching into the far corners of his body for patience, “I’m giving you the chance to tell me the truth before Splinter gets here. Where did you get this stuff?”

The ‘stuff’ in question was very clearly brand-new. Some of it was still in the box. It was equipment that Leonardo couldn’t make heads or tails of, and he refused to agree with Raph’s “mad scientist” moniker out loud just on principle, but sometimes he had to admit to himself that Raph might have a point. Donnie’s haul wouldn’t have looked out of place in an episode of Dexter’s Laboratory.

Donnie’s eyes narrowed, arms tightening around his oversized satchel. He sized Leo up for a solid ten seconds, visibly gauging how much he could get away with in the moment. And then, predictably, he glanced over at Mikey.

Mikey was sitting on the kitchen counter with a bowl of pineapple chunks in one hand, plastic Hello Kitty chopsticks in the other, swinging his feet and watching the scene play out with mild interest.

The youngest turtle tilted his head. Huffing out a displeased breath, Donnie faced Leo again.

“I found it,” he said grudgingly. He was only nine years old and not even the F.B.I. would be able to crack him. Leonardo was going to give it his best shot anyway.

“Where?” Leo stressed. “Dad doesn’t even like you going to the junkyard by yourself, and I know you didn’t ‘find’ this stuff in the garbage.”

“Humans throw away good stuff all the time,” Don said, sticking to his story. “Remember the fountain pen?”

“Oh my god, Dee,” Leo groaned.

“You mean the one you bring up every time you get in trouble for dumpster diving without permission?” Raph piped up from the peanut gallery. He was sprawled comfortably on the couch, magazine in hand, Spike a cozy little lump under his shirt. “That fountain pen?”

“I looked it up online and it retailed at over five thousand dollars,” Donnie went on doggedly.

“Okay, yes, people throw valuable things away,” Leo agreed, exasperated. “Did they throw away this stuff, though? Or did you break into a government building again, like you did when you decided you needed the—the what’s-it-called, accelerators.”

“Actuators,” Donnie corrected him. “And it wasn’t a government building, it was one of the labs at NYU.” Then, after a beat, “You can’t prove I did that.”

“Don, give me the bag.”

Donnie glanced toward Mikey again. Mikey clicked at him. It definitely didn’t sound like a ‘you should listen to your brother’ click.

Sensing where this was going a second too late, Leo made a grab for him, but Donnie moved at the same time. He sprinted into his lab at full ninja speed, stolen goods in tow, and the reinforced doors closed behind him with a decisive thud.

Raph howled with laughter in the living room. Leo let his forehead thunk against the lab doors and groaned.

The soft tap of a walking stick made him roll his head to the side without lifting it. Splinter’s whiskers twitched in amusement, even though his expression gave nothing away.

“I see that my second youngest has engaged us in yet another battle of wills. Is Donatello in immediate danger?”

“Only from himself,” Leo muttered. “And me, when I get my hands on him.”

“In that case, we can only wait him out,” Splinter said wisely, continuing on his way into the kitchen. “He will get hungry eventually.”

Mikey smiled sweetly at their father and offered him some pineapple. Splinter turned down the fruit, but rubbed the top of Mikey’s head affectionately, further proving Leo’s thesis that Michelangelo could do no wrong in the rat’s eyes. The kid literally just aided and abetted a repeat offender and he got head rubs. Donnie snuck aboveground for the third time that week—and it was only Tuesday—and he probably wouldn’t even get scolded.

It’s more complicated than that, Leo sometimes had to firmly remind himself. Donnie and Mikey survived without their family for three months when they were little more than babies—and in part, Splinter had solemnly informed Leo and Raph as they got older, they were only able to do so by venturing to the surface for food and clean water and warm things to nest in. Out of necessity, they acclimated to living between two worlds.

They didn’t have the deeply ingrained anxiety surrounding humans and human places that Leo had inherited from Splinter. They didn’t have the healthy disdain for people that Raph had, either. Leo was pretty sure they only stayed underground at all because they were fond of the lair and didn't want to give their dad and brothers heart attacks by springing an apartment on them.

He slunk down into the sunken living room and collapsed onto the sofa. Being the oldest was thankless and horrible and Leo wanted a new job. Raph nudged his knee with his foot.

“Don gave that fancy fountain pen to Splinter for his birthday,” the red-banded turtle reminded Leo. “He may be an evil genius, but he’s our evil genius. And Mikey would probably stop him before he did anything really bad.”

“Unless it was funny,” Mikey called over.

“Unless it was funny,” Raph conceded.

Leo buried his face in a cushion and groaned again. Sometimes this family could be so annoying. But somewhere in the back of his mind, a well-kept secret from everybody else—even himself some of the time—Leonardo was always a little bit relieved every time Donnie acted bratty and clung to his stupid treasures, every time Mikey started talking his family’s ears off about some comic book or new cartoon.

He had vague, fuzzy memories of a Mikey who wouldn’t speak in human languages at all—of a Donnie that picked through toys and books listlessly, uninterested in everything he used to love—and he knew that the annoying versions of his brothers were the ones he wanted to keep.

#

April was having a really, really, really bad day when she first met the best friends she’d ever have. She was trudging home from the bus stop, all wet from a puddle a stupid car had splashed on her, damp bookbag full of homework she didn’t want to do and an essay she got a C on because English was stupid and literary analysis was stupid and the stupid green light at the end of the stupid dock was stupid.

It had nothing to do with tomorrow being Mother’s Day.

She was cutting through a side street to get back to her apartment faster when suddenly her foot caught on something hard and unforgiving and she pitched forward with a screech.

Her bag busted a seam when it fell, and books and folders scattered magnificently around the dirty alley, and April had just about had it.

She burst into tears.

Today was horrible and she hated her new school and she just wanted to be home with dad already even if their new place was stuffy and cramped and not as comfortable as the one they lived in with mom. Nothing was as comfortable as it was when mom was there.

April was crying so hard she didn’t hear it at first—a gentle rolling, rumbling noise, like a car engine, only it would have to be a really little car. It was so out of place that it distracted April from her tears. She looked around to find the source of it, rubbing her face dry with the inside of her shirt.

The first thing April saw was the manhole cover. It was lifted slightly instead of laying down flat, which must have been what she tripped over. The second thing she saw was the round blue eyes peering at her from the darkness underneath.

April was twelve years old and nothing surprised her for very long. She shoved the hood of her yellow jacket off her head and demanded, “What are you doing down there?”

The eyes blinked at her. Furiously, she said, “You made me fall!”

“He said he was sorry,” another voice said from directly behind her.

She turned to look and found a boy staring back at her. He was a few inches shorter than she was, and dressed in mismatched layers of clothes that all looked too big on his skinny body. He was wearing a floppy beanie and a purple mask and holding something big and square and wrapped in a tarp. It was so much to take in that it took April an additional second to register that his skin was green.

April was so taken-aback by the sudden appearance of a green boy that she completely missed the dull, near-silent sound of the manhole cover grating over concrete. She scrambled back when the green boy moved toward her, and then felt silly about it because he wasn’t moving towards her at all, he was carrying the thing he was holding over to the manhole.

“What is that?” she asked curiously.

“Microwave oven,” he said, holding it a little closer against his stomach like she was going to snatch it from him.

There was no danger of that. April tried moving her own microwave to a different counter once to make room for her dad’s new coffee maker and she barely made it two feet with that thing. And that was a normal microwave. This one looked like it belonged in a kitchen restaurant somewhere.

In fact… April squinted, and made out a sticker on the side that said “Property of Rupert’s Management.” He certainly wasn’t old enough to be the manager of anything. From the defensive way he was holding the appliance, April was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to have it.  

Two hands reached up out of the manhole, green and three-fingered just like the boy’s. He passed one end of his ill-gotten gains down to them, carefully lowering the whole heavy, bulky thing into the tunnel. It slipped and fell a few inches, and the boy snapped something in what sounded very much like fluent Japanese, and from underground where April couldn’t see, the owner of the blue eyes giggled.

After watching for a moment, it occurred to April that her stuff was still sitting around slowly getting soaked in the rain-wet alley. She made a fed-up noise under her breath and scuttled over on hands and knees to begin the annoying task of picking it all up. After a moment, she heard paper rustle somewhere to her left.

“The green light symbolizes Gatsby’s dreams for the future,” the boy said abruptly, “not just his love for Daisy. It gave him hope. People like to say the book is a condemnation of the American Dream, but really it’s just about wanting more than what you have, no matter how rich or poor you are.”

April sits up on her knees to find him reading her essay, flipping through the stapled pages with a halfway interested look on his face. He glances up at her, not quite making eye contact, and then down at his hands again.

“I like what you wrote,” he muttered. “I would have given this a B at least.”

It was the nicest thing anyone had said to her all day, and it crystallized in April’s memory as the exact moment she knew she was keeping this weird little microwave thief no matter what.

#

Sometimes Mikey got quiet. He didn’t mean to, he tried not to, but Donnie said it was okay if he didn’t want to talk the way people did. Mikey was a person, but he was a turtle, too. His siblings could understand him if they tried. Donnie would always understand him.

Papa thought that Mikey was too young to remember those months he and Donnie were alone, and for the most part he was right. Mikey’s memories of that time were all disjointed, hazy things. Mostly things he dreamed about.

But papa was wrong, too. There were some things Mikey kept.

When Leo turned sixteen, Splinter finally allowed her to lead her team on the surface. By then, they were all familiar with New York City—Mikey and Donnie dressed in their layers and ventured up whenever it suited them, and Leo had had to hunt them down and drag them home at least a thousand times, and even Raph could be coaxed into topside shenanigans if April promised there was junk food and horror movies on the other end.

They weren’t new to the world, but they were new to the criminal underside of it all. They could practice kata and spar with each other for hours in the dojo but it was much different fighting a stranger with a butterfly knife or brass knuckles who didn’t care about them at all.

Mikey was unsettled by it when his siblings gathered at the breakfast table nursing aches and bruises the morning after their first fight. Papa was unhappy, too, his tail lashing in agitation even while his face remained thoughtful and impassive. He listened to Leo explain so earnestly that if she had the power and the ability to help people, it meant she had the responsibility to.

It was hard to argue with that. Mikey busied himself with tying his sister’s blue mask tails up in a poofy bow the way she secretly liked a lot, waiting for papa’s inevitable sigh.

“You are burdened with wisdom beyond your years, Leona,” the rat finally said. He always took great care to say Leo’s chosen name properly, ever since the year before when she disclosed to her family that she was actually a girl. Even now, during this tense conversation, that acknowledgement made Leo sit a little bit taller. “I want you to promise me that you’ll be careful,” Splinter goes on. “With your brothers, and yourself.”

“Of course,” she was quick to agree. “I promise, dad.”

Only stupid Leo was a big fat liar, because the first chance she got to fling herself into danger, that’s what she did. And it was really annoying, and when Mikey was done being terrified, he was going to be very, very angry.

On this particular night, they had split up into two teams to cover as much ground as quickly as they could. The Purple Dragons’ den was somewhere along the waterline, and Leo wanted to find it. So Donnie and Raph were canvasing on the other side of the docks when the Purple Dragons found Mikey and his sister.

The odds were immediately bad, something like a dozen thugs against two ninja turtles. Even with their training, they were still only sixteen and thirteen years old. They had brushed up against violence before, but not the organized kind. Donnie’s voice got panicked in Mikey’s ear, guessing what his and Leo’s tense silence meant, and then Raph started cursing up a storm, and Mikey could tell from the way their breaths got fast and punchy over the comms that they were both sprinting to get there as fast as they could.

But Mikey didn’t think that was going to matter, because one of the men pulled a gun from his waistband. He was saying something but Mikey’s thoughts were all underwater. He was clutching his ‘chucks so hard he could feel the scores on the handles biting into his palms.

When the gun went off, he was pushed down, and his head knocked into a shipping crate hard enough that he saw stars behind his eyes. He had to blink a few times to find Leo. She was hovering above him, her carapace turned outwards toward the man with the gun. She was holding Mikey like she expected one of them was about to lose the other. She was bleeding. She looked afraid.

Mikey closed his eyes and let the quiet out.

It filled his whole body like the first gulp of hot chocolate on a blustery winter day. It made him remember being somewhere damp and dark, smaller than he was now and cornered by a bigger animal, Donnie’s wheezy, rattling breaths behind him and the weak press of his fever-hot hands on Mikey’s shell, but it wasn’t scary to remember that. It made everything very simple. He knew what to do.

“Mikey,” someone was saying. “Hey, Mikey. Angie.”

When he blinked his eyes open and looked up, the warehouse was empty. There were a few limp human bodies strewn within his line of sight, but when he turned to look for the rest of them, a hand caught his chin and held him still. He followed the hand back to Donnie, who was looking at Mikey the way he always did, like they were each other’s first and best and forever friend.

“There you are,” Donnie said, and smiled.

Mikey tried to smile back, but his mouth tasted like metal and salt, and his jaw was sore. When he touched his face, his fingers came away sticky and red. It was all down his chin and throat. He didn’t know how that got there. He looked up at Donnie again, and then past him, at where their brother and sister were hovering.

The second Mikey saw Leo, and the hastily-wrapped bandage on her arm, he remembered the obscene crack of the gun shooting her and he started to cry. 

Leo practically trampled over Raph and Donnie in her rush to get her arms around Mikey. She didn’t care that he was all messy and ugly, she was pressing her beak to the top of his head, clicking and cooing the way she hadn’t since they were children.

Then Raph picked Mikey up and tucked Mikey’s head under his chin and they went to April’s apartment, which was twenty minutes closer to the docks than the lair. The trip across Manhattan was brighter and warmer than the winding subway tunnels home would have been. Someone must have called ahead to warn them, because April and her dad were worried but not horrified by the picture the turtles made on their fire escape.

April sat in the bathtub with Mikey, a tight enough fit that their knees and elbows knocked together. She used the handheld shower head to get all the blood off him. It ruined her pajamas but she didn’t care. She was his big sister, too. By the time Mikey was released, smelling like April’s mango body wash and wrapped in his favorite fluffy Hello Kitty blanket, Mr. O’Neil had finished stitching Leo’s arm and she was pacing in tight circles around the kitchen, lost in her own world.

“Okay, Fearless, he’s here,” Raph said, clearly fed up with her. “Go smother the kid and get it out of your system so we can eat already.”

Mikey was still mad at Leo. But he could save that for later. For now, he wanted to lean against her and feel the steady, reassuring marathon march of her heart, while his human family and turtle family piled into the living room with paper plates of greasy cheese pizza. Mr. O’Neil called Splinter way before he ordered the food, so papa would be there any minute. They didn’t turn the TV on, they just sat together and talked in low voices, until Raph said, “Where’d we leave off, Don?” and Donnie made an ‘oh yeah’ sort of noise and scrolled through his phone.

They’d been rereading one of their favorite books together to pass time during boring patrols and endless stakeouts. Donnie passed Raph his phone, because Raphie did it best.

“For the hundredth time, she closed her eyes so she could see another room in her mind's eye,” Raph read into the companionable silence of the room, “one with a curtain full of stars, and a mattress surrounded by books that whispered their stories to her at night."

The quiet inside of Mikey was docile and passive now, a dangerous animal deep in hibernation. But it was still there. Maybe it always would be.

But Leo was hugging him like nothing about him had changed, and Raph was reading The Thief Lord the way he used to read Magic Tree House when they were little, and Donnie’s hand was wrapped around Mikey’s like a promise.

Mikey’s earliest memory was just that. It was Donnie holding his hand, walking next to him, all through the dark.

#

Once, when Donnie and Mikey were very very small, they went the wrong way.

Their turtle instincts kept them moving, kept them scrounging for survival. Maybe if they’d been human toddlers, they would have stayed put and made it easy for their father to track them down. Maybe they would have only been out there for a few days, a week at most. Or maybe they would have fallen into the deep run-off and drowned, or got eaten by subway rats, or died of exposure.

Donnie remembers more than he thinks anyone in his family is aware that he does. A true photographic memory has never been proven, but frankly that’s only one item in a long laundry list of reasons why any scientist worth their salt would love to get their hands on him. Don can recall everything he’s ever seen.  

He’s done a lot of reading on childhood trauma and the way it can affect toddlers and even babies going forward. Three months in the grand scheme of things is not a remarkably long time, and they could have come out of that whole situation a lot worse than they did.

Mikey’s eyes weren’t irreparably damaged by the long stint he went without his glasses, by the grace of some imaginary god, but in part that’s because he learned to get around without his eyes at all. Donnie’s baby brother taught him how to echolocate, using their subvocal turtle noises to see in the dark the way their red-eared slider cousins use vibrations to see through murky water.

Nowadays it’s mostly a parlor trick they use to get the better of their big siblings.

Sometimes during morning training, after Leo had beaten Mikey and Raph had beaten Donnie, and Raph went on to be a really sore winner about beating Leo, Splinter would tap his walking stick and call Raph back onto the mat.

“Now you will spar against your younger brothers together,” the rat would say mildly, knowing exactly what he was doing. Raphael’s smug face would fall, and Leo would settle on the sidelines with her new bruises and a beaming smile on her face.

On their own, Mikey and Donnie were both talented ninjas who were easily distracted during practice and only trained as much as they were required to.

Together, they were monsters.

“Okay,” Raph said, lifting his hands warily, “let’s talk about this.”

Mikey winked at him and closed his eyes. Raphael swore. Leona smothered her laughter, but Donnie could still hear it, rising and filling the dojo in gentle waves.

Donatello remembers being lost. He remembers how the days blurred together, dark and frightening—the maze-like tunnels—crying and crying for Splinter before finally learning that no one would come when he cried. He remembers getting sick, a bad chest cold that was no match for his mutated DNA but gave him a rough time for the few days it managed to stick. He remembers the big ugly rats that stalked them to their makeshift nest, and the tiny curve of his little brother’s shell when Mikey went on all fours and bared his teeth and protected Donnie from the creatures that would hurt him the only way he could. He remembers the first time they crawled out of the sewers; how they didn’t want to break papa’s most important rule, but they were so hungry.

He remembers seeing the city lights for the first time, neon and eclectic and dizzying, the brightest things in the whole world. He remembers how fear began to fade and what was scary became normal and all he needed to feel safe was his little Angie beside him.

“Telloooo,” Leona calls from the den. “Get your shell in here or we’ll leave without you!”

“No you won’t, I have the keys!” Donnie calls back. He saves the design he’s working on, a wrist-mounted crossbow for Casey’s upcoming seventeenth birthday, and smiles to himself imagining the horrified look on Leo and April’s faces and the elated one on Casey’s when Don presents the gift. It’s going to be sweet chaos, and that he’s doing it all for a cute boy makes it even sweeter.  

He steps out of his lab to find his siblings lingering by the turnstiles, waiting for him. Mikey is giving goodbye kisses to Klunk’s little orange face, acting every bit as though he’s going to be out of the country for a calendar year, instead of just, like, out for a few hours. Raph looks like he’s about three seconds from dragging their baby brother out of the lair by his mask tails. Leo has her hands on her hips, in full harried single-mom mode, even though Splinter is right there.

“Finally,” she says when she spots Donnie. “Ready to go?”

“Can I drive?” Mikey blurts before anyone else can say anything.

“What? Of course not,” Donnie refuses immediately, a scandalized look on his face. He smiles up at Splinter when he passes him, and leans into the one-armed hug the rat gives him in parting. The moment they’ve hopped the turnstiles and left the lights of the station behind, Donnie tosses Mikey the keys to the Shellraiser and says, “Go wild.”

Michelangelo whoops and takes off down the tracks. Raph barks out a surprised laugh, and Leo says, “Oh, hell no!” and the tunnels echo with the sounds of Donatello’s family, rowdy and reckless and irrepressible.

He and Mikey got lost when they were little, but they ended up right where they were supposed to be.  

[pbandjesse]

I am glad I only have a short shift tomorrow. Because I am beat. And I'm going to have two days of doubles. Today was mostly a good day though.

Waking up this morning I was just a little frustrated because I was so tired. It was rainy and grey out. But I was trying hard to be in a good mood. My hair looked great and while I was afraid I cut it to short I actually think it looks great. And I really like this length in a half ponytail so I was really happy with it.

Me and James left here a little to early. The doctor's office starts there blood taking clinic at 830. So when we got in the car at 8 were like. Well. Oops.

So we got out there and had to wait in the car. It was rainy and gross out. I didn't mind sitting. It helped me feel more awake.

And we were the first ones there. So we only had to wait a minute. James went first. The phlebotomist was very nice but shocked at me and James's recent medical issues. She took 3 vials of James's blood and 7 of mine! Goodness.

But we finished up and went back to the car. James was going to go home and I was just like. I will take you home, Jessica is already prepared for me to be late and it was still early.

So I took them home. Except not really. James asked me to take them to the bank and they would walk home from there. But I misunderstood the GPS and James didn't tell me to turn and so we got stuck on a road that took me 10 minutes out of our way and I was so upset and then James was upset. But I got them down the street from the bank. And I apologized for being snippy and then headed to work.

And work was really good. My group was excellent. I had scavenger hunt with them first and then lunch so it was a gentle start of the day. They were really cool though and loved getting prizes for getting all the questions correct. And they kept going "you are knitting!!" When I was sitting there working on my glove. Speaking of that, I got a bunch of rows finished and I'm on the thumb now. They will hopefully be complete very soon!!

I had balls and track with them next. Jim watched again and I think they had a lot of fun. We had a lot of laughs. And it was cool that the roller coaster I made worked really constantly and was a great example for the kids. It was a fun hour.

And after that it was cannery time. I was nervous because it was an overlap but it ended up being really excellent. A child asked if he could tell me fun facts to get more tokens. And I let him get two more for the facts (Lambs are made of meat! Octopus have beaks!) And my timing was very good. I was having a lot of fun honestly.

We did start 15 minutes early today but we forgot to tell the bus drivers. So Jessica had to walk across the parking lot to let them know. But then they were off with lots of big smiles. A little girl told me that her brother is going to be jealous because it was such a cool trip. I'm glad she thought so.

I went up to the offices next to clean oysters. John joined me and we talked. About traveling to Alaska. About arthritis. About work. He's great. And we cleaned almost all the shells and got most of them refilled. We ran out of beads though so we didn't finished all of them but there is always tomorrow.

I said goodbye to everyone and headed home. I ran into Angie on my way out and she had a very soft looking sweater on. I wanted to go and be cozy too.

So I went home.

When I got back here James made me Mac and cheese for a late lunch. And I just posted up on the couch for the longest time. I felt so beat. And I stayed there almost until dinner.

I worked on my glove. I went and made a couple pieces for my quilt project. But I just couple focus.

James made us smashed potatoes and broccoli for dinner. And it was very good and it helped me feel a little better. But I just couldn't do anything.

I went and put some stuff away in the bedroom. James did clean some sheets today but can't pick up the trunks we keep the sheet in so I did that. And fed the aquatics.

I took a bath. Which made my skin feel a bit better. I had some ice cream. And I have been in bed with Sweetp and James and we are real cozy.

Tomorrow I have an appointment with a rheumatologist that James made for me. I'm only slightly nervous. I will take James to work first and then I will probably get breakfast and then go to my appointment. And then I'll have a few hours until I have to go to the library for AVAM. I might go early to look at some books for the Native American program. But we will see how the day goes.

I hope you all have a good day tomorrow and stay cozy. Be safe out there in the big world. Wash your hands and look out for bikers!!

[whimsywispsblog]

Fault in Our Stars

Warning: PTSD, references to childhood abuse and trauma, sexual trauma and depression.

Inspired by: @vukis2

Lips quivering. Tears trailing. Body shaking from the cold and fear. Eyes widened- alarmed and frightened.

Running into the dark forest was definitely a bad idea. But what was Donna to do other than run? Run for her dear life? Run away somewhere- somewhere away from the lands infested with blood-sucking vampiric creatures that feasted on her family's blood, leaving her the youngest and the damaged for last.

Damaged. Ruined. In every sense. In every way, a woman is not to be ruined.

The hazy light of the gloomy skies shaded by the canopies of the tall and twisted brown trees lit the dark path ahead. Each step was taken carefully as the rustling of the carpet of dried leaves, and twigs below Donna's feet gave a crisp crackle, each sound making the girl turn back while tightly squeezing the arm of her ragged doll, Angie. And the sounds of the high-pitched giggles turned into ear-piercing shrieks. In the dark forests, vile creatures lurk in every corner, staggering and tottering in the shadows hunting their doomed prey. A forest lore, narrated by every village person. Or was it a forewarning left to the villagers by the unfortunate quarries who could never return to see another sunrise?

Most never knew which, but that day, Donna realised that it was the latter.

The dark forests always played with its victims' minds: most never escaped from its evil clutches, and the ones that did, they were driven to insanity by never-ending nightmares of its devilish creatures. There was no escape.

Donna stopped as she heard sudden footsteps approaching. They were fast, very fast.

'Run.' 'Run.' 'Run.' She kept commanding her body, but her legs shook and felt heavy, making the girl fall on her knees. The girl refused to turn back, and she closed her eyes. The wind was strong, pushing her backwards as if tempting her to open her eyes and see what stood behind her.

And then, the sounds of the ravens squawking, but in human tongue filled the languid air of the forests. Their crows were so frightening, so horrifying that they made poor Donna's flesh bleed and cut.

//"She the woman who made the Devil destroy the paradise for a kiss,"//

"I did not fall. I did not fall." The girl repeated the sentence over and over again, clutching Angie close to her breasts. The ravens flew around her, its sharp beaks piercing through her tender skin, its shrill squeaks hurting her sensitive ears, the pitch getting louder and louder until it started ringing in her ears. They started ripping her hair from her scalp and skinning her thighs, relishing in her decaying flesh.

The girl then let out a loud scream.

"HE PUSHED ME!"

//"No one questions the Devil, whore!"//

And with that, it was back to the eerie tranquillity of the forests.

Eyes watching. Ears listening. Tongues wetting. Stomachs growling.

She was tired. Scared. But determined to escape from the forests' demons. But would she?

Donna shook her head sideways, swallowing all her doubts. She was going to escape and start her life anew, somewhere far, far away. In lands where she was not damaged. Not cursed. But welcomed with open hearts and warm smiles. And with that, she pushed herself up, not letting her mind succumb to the dark pits of self-doubt.

The frigid air bit into the girl's tender skin through her ripped clothes and burnt her lungs while numbing her nose. The girl hugged herself, trying to keep the cold away. Lips pale, eyes swollen, hair covered in icicles, and her body covered in dried blood and mud. It seemed like the path went on forever, and the sky-kissing mountains were just an illusion.

The earthy smell after the first rainfall that loomed over the dark lands slowly faded away as a more metallic smell with burnt char took over—burning flesh. Someone or something was close.

Donna chanted words of Orison to her creator- for protection. For courage. For salvation. And if the Gods chose to cut her thread of fate, then so be it. She was ready to welcome the torment of hell that awaited her. Somewhere away from the abhorrent lands that she walked on. Was walking on. Her trembling hands tightly clasped on Angie's neck while her steps became slower and more cautious.

The girl found a rock big enough to hide behind as the smell got stronger and sounds of inhuman growls got louder. She didn't want to see them as she shut her eyes tightly, her prayers chanted at a frantic pace bobbing her head back and forth. Until. A human voice caught her attention- a voice which she regretted listening to.

"Take the fat one. That's all you will get for the night," A bunch of snarls poured out from all directions until the person finally screamed, "SHUT UP! Go find more food somewhere else!"

The sound of soft whimpers made Donna peek from behind the rock. In a wooden cage were 6 small-sized men, looking down at the creatures in fear. They were the dwarfs. On the ground was a giant dwarf that shouted for mercy, as his limbs were torn from all sides and his body ripped with the splatter of blood and his insides. Donna held back her urge to gasp, biting her tongue so hard that she felt the taste of blood in her mouth.

"Oi fish freak!" Donna's attention shifted from the mutilated remnants of the corpse to that of a man, tall and sturdy with messy, greasy grey hair covered by a hat. He wore a long brown coat that swayed with his every movement. He had a gigantic hammer in his hand, one that made the girl tremble in fear. Not only could this man control a horde of dangerous human-eating monsters, but he was also burly, judging by the size of the metallic hammer.

"Hey, moron! Yeah, you! Come here ya quim!" A blob-like grotesque creature stumbled towards the man. It looked so ugly and ghastly that Donna felt the contents of her stomach rise to her throat.

"Fry these midgets and send them to Miranda." The fish-creature bowed its entire body as if nodding to the man. The man with the hammer turned away, facing the rock as a slight smirk appeared on his face, and that scared Donna. Did he see her?

Donna pulled herself behind the rock as she breathed in heavily, hoping that he hadn't seen her. She felt something warm and wet on her shoulder, and she slowly looked up. To her horror, one of those creatures stood behind her, looking at her famished. The girl let out a loud scream, pulling Angie close to her chest. But before the creature could put its sharp rotten nails on her, its head was smashed by something, making its blood splash all over her. The girl, who was still in shock, stared at the creature's headless remains, her body trembling like a leaf and her heartbeat thudding loudly.

Suddenly, her hair was grabbed, and she was picked up like a rag doll. Her eyes stayed fixated on the mushy brown ground, but a gloved hand grabbed her face and forced her to look at the person. It was the man with a hammer.

"Mhmm...Young blood," He said, observing the girl's face. His eyes landed on her ruby-red necklace. "Scarlet, eh." The man dropped Donna, and she landed with a soft grunt. He bent down to her level, watching her closely. The girl was about to beg for grace. The sounds of painful screams made her turn towards the horrific scene. The dwarfs were set on fire, all of them hurdling close to each other, screaming into each other's bodies as if sharing their pain and death.

The man in front of her grabbed her face and made him look at her again, pulling out something from his coat. An apple. Delightfully red. He brought the fruit closer to the girl's lips. Without wasting another second, Donna grabbed the apple from his hand and bit into its scrumptious flesh, greedily and ravenously. Without chewing properly, she bit into more and more until she choked a few pieces out.

The man watched the girl eat in dark amusement. A raven perched on his shoulder, crowing in his ears, making him grimace.

"Yeah yeah, it's poisoned." He said, shooing the raven away. The girl was just halfway through her apple, but she felt dizzy and sick. It was as if the world was spinning at such a fast pace, and she felt as if she was losing control of her body. The man effortlessly put the girl on his shoulder and walked away while magically getting his hammer to fly right into his hands.

...

Donna's eyes fluttered open to the sound of people talking and the muffled mewls of a younger person, probably a girl. She felt hot, and an unusual but familiar pain tingled throughout her body, pulsating through each nerve excruciatingly. The girl tried to move her wrists, but there was something tight and sharp clamped around her wrists, restraining any movement.

Angie...Angie wasn't there in her hands. Donna bolted up, alarmed and terrified. The room she was in was quite cold, dark and damp, like the inside of a cave. It was dimly lit by the lamps on the walls. In front of her stood a woman with raven feathers unfurled behind her. To her right was the hammer-man, telling the woman about something. Between them was another chained girl with platinum blonde hair, bloodied, bruised and naked. Probably a survivor. Or a prey.

The lady with the raven feathers grabbed the blonde girl's face and lifted her up, her feet away from the ground.

"Young Rose...Fresh virgin blood," The woman mused with a slight grin, squeezing the girl, Rose's face. The woman brought her closer, taking a deep whiff of the girl's neck. "She smells delicious. Girls! Come here!" The woman shouted, and out of the shadows glided three women, giggling and jumping with their faces covered in blood. As they walked, a swarm of flies surrounded them and, out of their sleeves, fell off maggots- wet and slimy.

The raven woman threw Rose in their direction, and the poor girl fell with a loud thud. "Her blood, please." The woman ordered the three girls.

"Of course, Mother Miranda!" The girls giggled and laughed, taking Rose and throwing her to a bed of needles and kept pushing her deeper into the sharp metal, impaling the helpless girl's body. The cave echoed with the laughter of the insect-witches and the weak cries of dying Rose.

Donna watched the scene in horror and started crawling backwards until her back hit the wall.  The raven lady, Mother Miranda, turned her attention to Donna, looking at her with steely darkened eyes. The woman disappeared into a murder of crows and suddenly appeared in front of the girl and kneeled down to her eye level. Her pale and cold fingers grabbed the girl's jaw and pulled her forward, observing her closely.

"What is your name, child?"

"D-Donna", The girl stuttered, shaking uncontrollably. "Donna Beneviento."

"Ah, House Beneviento! My daughters and their spawns recently ravaged their Village and families," Mother Miranda chimed, looking at the three insect-witches who kept stabbing Rose's mutilated corpse with their large metallic nails. "Young Rose was from there."

"W-Why d-do you kill?" Mother Miranda smiled at the girl as she pushed the stray strands of her hair behind her ear.

"Human fear and blood keep us alive." The woman traced her fingers across Donna's cheekbones. "We were damned by the Old Gods, the ones who were in favour of your wretched kind."

"Y-you are all m-monsters!" Donna choked out, pushing herself away from the woman's touch. Mother Miranda grabbed a fistful of the girl's hair and pulled her close, biting the girl's neck. Donna let out a piercing scream, trying to pull herself away from the woman.

"Ah, that's a first. You're not Virgin blood. Unchaste!" Miranda raised an eyebrow and looked at the girl in disgust.

//"Stained and the tarnished scent of the vile harlot"//

A tiny scar near the girl's left eye caught Miranda's attention. The woman roughly pushed her hair away and looked at Donna's blistered scar in revulsion. "And she is a cripple."

"Not a virtuous Doll, eh?" The hammer man chimed, looking at Donna in amusement, but once his eye landed on her scar, his smile dropped.

Doll...Doll...Angie! Donna gasped and looked up at the hammer man in distress. "Angie! Where is Angie, my doll?!"

"Burning." Mother Miranda replied with an indifferent expression.

"W-What? N-no! NO!" Donna screamed and shouted, trying to push herself upon Miranda, but the woman was strong. Without much effort, she slapped Donna, making the girl break down into a whimpering mess.

Angie. The only remnant of her innocence now burnt away in the heat.

"This one's of no use to me."

"But she smells so delightful!" Said one of the insect witches, sniffing her around and licking the blood of the wound where Miranda had bitten her.

"Indeed she is, child. But your Mother won't be pleased with any of you drinking impure blood," Miranda spat, looking at Donna in contempt. Donna looked down, ashamed and embarrassed at the way they kept taunting her. Just like how she was harassed in her Village for something that wasn't even her fault...

'I did not fall...I did not fall...'

"Alright then, she can be a nice play-thing for the Lycans." The hammer man said, putting his hammer on the ground and resting his weight on it.

"Fine then, Heisenberg. The girl's fate is in your hands." Mother Miranda got up, glaring at the girl.

His name is...Heisenberg? Familiar name.

The man nodded, grabbed the girl's chain. He pulled the chain sharply with a slight grunt, making the girl stumble and dragged her across the sharp stony ground. Donna let out soft mewls of pain.

"Quit your whining!" He said as he dragged her slower this time, making every inch of her skin throb, red and wet.

-

Sounds of metal grinding metal stirred the girl from her disturbed slumber. She wasn't sure how she slept off. She was still shackled in chains, but instead of being seated in front of a Cult family, she sat alone in a chamber, cold. And wet.

"Ah, you're up!" A loud, boisterous sound made the girl flinch lightly. She slowly tilted her head up to look at the person.

Heisenberg. Smirking and eyes glinting with mischief. He held out a water jug to the girl. Although she desperately needed it to quench her thirst and wet her dried mouth, after the poisoned apple, she was afraid.

"Relax, there's nothing in the water," Heisenberg rolled his eyes in annoyance. The girl hesitated to take the glass from him, which caused the man to groan in frustration and sipped a little of the water. "See? I am alive. It's normal water,"

Donna quickly grabbed the jug from him with trembling hands and drank the water, messily and shakily, the water running down her neck. She drank in so fast that the poor girl choked on water, coughing up some of it.

Heisenberg chuckled, sliding a plate of stale bread and some bright coloured fruit. The girl didn't wait for another second and quickly devoured the food down, juice of the squished fruit staining her skin and clothes. Heisenberg observed the girl quietly with a neutral expression. Pulling out a cigarette, he lit it up, smoking in a direction away from the girl's face.

"W-Why a-are y-you not killing m-me?" Donna's soft stutters pulled the man out of his thoughts. He rubbed his eyes as he contemplated her question, letting out a soft yawn.

"Didn't you hear what I told Miranda?" Donna nodded her head sideways, making the man sigh. "A play-thing for the beasts."

"W-Will they...k-kill me?"

"That depends." Heisenberg shrugged, walking away from the room. "Oh, and the chains will stay. " He said, closing the door behind him.

Donna pulled her legs close to her chest, tears trailing down her eyes. Her skin was bruised and bloodied, her clothes tattered, she stank, she was starved, she was tortured, and she was ruined. Too much for a lifetime.

The sound of the crow of a raven made the girl lookup. 'How did that bird get in?' The girl thought, looking at the bird baffled. The raven had red eyes and looked at the girl menacingly. It let out one more shrill crow and dove straight towards her, its sharp beak pointing at her. Donna curled into her legs and let out a whimper, too tired to scream. But the attack never happened. Instead, a laugh- malicious and vulgar- emerged. Donna looked up, and there stood the Hag.

//Broken disgusting whore! Shame on you!//

Donna didn't fight back. She stayed quiet, thinking of her time at home, back in the Village. The Hag continued with her taunts and screams, her ravens poking the girl's delicate flesh, but the girl was too tired, too lost. Too broken.

"I know," Donna whispered, fresh hot tears trailing down her cheek as she remembered the night, back in the Village, when she got the Stigma of the Fallen Maiden- The whore.

Bodies sticking together with sweat. A heavy weight on her chest crushing the delicate flesh of her breasts. Hair yanked and tugged with a few strands ripped off. Teeth biting deep into her skin, blood flowing out of it. An unbearable pain as she felt herself lose her chastity and virtue...No longer virginal and innocent. She was marked and claimed by another man.

//You are no graceful deer like a faithful virtuous maiden! You intoxicate them with your ardour! You vile demon!//

"I know," Donna whispered again, her eyes heavy and burning and swollen. She cried no more. She couldn't. There was nothing to cry for. She was forever going to be this- a whore.

"Oi Hag! Get the fuck outta here! Go teach your lessons about virtues and morality to those Demitrescu girls." It was Heisenberg. The Hag turned back at the man and laughed loudly and sharply, making both Donna and Heisenberg wince in pain. The older woman burst into raven feathers, disappearing from the room.  Heisenberg turned his attention towards Donna. He took a few steps towards her until he was close enough.

"I know what happened that night," He said, looking dead into Donna's shocked eyes. How did he know? The man sat down, placing his hammer by his side and taking his hat off, running his hand through his hair.

"H-how did y-you know?" Donna asked, looking up to the man.

"Tales like these spread fast through the Village and beyond." He shrugged. Donna nodded, her eyes glued to the cold ground, observing its cracks and crevices.  "You don't remember me do you?" Donna looked at the man. The name Heisenberg did ring a bell for her. But she couldn't recall from where. "Ya remember the name, Karl?"

Karl...Karl...Heisenberg...

Karl Heisenberg! Heisenberg's son!

Donna nodded her head lightly, old memories of their time together as children returning to her. It was him.

The only child in the Village who was never afraid of her or treated her differently. Every time they were together, Karl's father would forcefully pull him away, shouting and screaming and hitting him for playing with the Spawn of Demon. But that never stopped Karl from going back to her.

Until.

They turned 16. She was a woman, and he was a man. She grew beautiful, and he grew taller.

She couldn't remember much, except one night during the Village's ritual: Young women who bled for the first time.

It was in the outskirts of the woods. Young Karl and Young Donna. Sitting by the rock. Moonlight dancing on their youthful flustered faces. Karl's gentle hand on her cheek, pulling her closer. And closer. And closer. Lips just touching. So soft.

"You disgusting boy!" And after that, all she remembered was being pushed away by Karl's father, her head hitting the ground sharply. And Karl's faint cries, "Donna!"

"W-Where d-did you go after that day?" Donna asked, her hands deeply buried into the fabric of her clothes.

"Father sent me away to another Village, to live with my uncle. Cruel man- known to straighten up Wild Things. But I just ran away." He shrugged.  There was a silence between the pair. But this was a comfortable one—just the sounds of their breathing, with the gentle whistle of the winds outside.

"Why here?"

"Mhmm?" Heisenberg peered at Donna, rubbing his scruff. "Ah well, like you, that useless Hag caught me. But things are fine here. I get a roof on my head, food and clothes. No whores though," He snickered but immediately stopped seeing Donna flinch at the word. "If you want to survive here, don't let that hag get to you."

"Do you have any advice on how I'll survive you?" The girl asked.

"Huh. Why do ya ask?"

"You say I am a play-thing for the Lycans. You said they might eat me."

"Ah, that. Yes, the Lycans do enjoy the company. They're just dogs." He said nonchalantly, waving his hand.

"But I don't want to stay here."

"Unfortunately, Donna, for people like you and me who are called 'wild' and 'vile', this is the only place that we get close to home." Donna looked away, feeling fresh hot tears prickling in her eyes.

"There's no 'we', Karl," The girl snapped. Karl hid his surprise at her sudden change of demeanour behind an irritated scowl. "I am everything you're not. I am not a vile whore-"

"GODDAMIT DONNA", Karl stood up, throwing away his hammer in frustration, breaking something nearby. "How long, how fucking long are you gonna keep crying about that bullshit?! It happened. You were fucked, whether you like it or not. Going around telling everyone that you aren't a whore won't change anything-"

"I know," Donna whispered, shivering from cold and fear. "Believe me, I know." The woman looked up to Karl, staring deep into his eyes. "But that doesn't make me a whore. That doesn't make me vile."

"Then you fucking accept the circumstances. It is written in our fates." Heisenberg sighed.

Donna stared at Heisenberg, pained by the helplessness that radiated off him, as the memory played in her mind.

Fate...

"Karl, your father won't let me be with you. Forget being near you. Your reputation will be tarnished because of me. The Village thinks I am cursed," Said a 15-year-old Donna. It was nighttime during one of their many midnight trysts in the woods. When the Villagers were fast asleep, and no one tried to hurt the couple.

"To hell with the Villagers and my father. They can say whatever the fuck they want, but I will have this life my way, and I will take you with me." Donna smiled softly, feeling her heart fluttering at her lover's determination and adamance to want a life with her despite all the difficulties they would face.

"But what if this is how things have to be? What if it is just...written in our stars?"

"Well then, fuck the stars. It's our lives. No one has a say in it. You choose your path and if that makes you happy, then fuck everything else. You choose your fate," He said, planting a soft peck on her cheek.

"You told me that day, we choose our fate, Karl," Heisenberg grunted, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Yea. I fucking did. Now, where has it got us both, hm?"

Donna stood up from her place shakily and limped towards Karl until she could feel the tug of her shackles. She was close enough. She raised a hand towards the man's face, but before she could touch him, his hand shot up and grasped hers.

"Don't", He growled, his ocean-blue eyes piercing into hers, trying to intimidate her.

"Please," She whispered, wriggling her hands a little, making the man drop his hand, letting the woman touch his face.

Donna slowly traced his scars. A story behind every one of them. Some she knew, some she did not. Karl didn't flinch as she kept caressing his rough skin with her softer, bruised fingers. He just looked at her as if searching in her for the old Donna he knew. The old Donna would dream with him about a beautiful future they would never have. He found her.

But to Donna, she never saw her old Karl. The one who dared to dream despite their doomed circumstances. He was now a broken man. A hopeless man who had seen and been through enough. A man who forgot what it was to experience bliss.

"I don't know if I will ever get to live this life with you, the way we dreamed. But...If there is still some life in you, I'd like that." Donna said, pulling her hand slowly trailing to Karl's chest, feeling the soft, slow thud of his heartbeat. With a wave of his hand, Donna's shackles broke. Karl slowly encircled his arms around her waist, gently but firmly and pulled her closer. With a hand cupping her cheek, he looked at her.

"I would have loved that. But look at me now. I am one of them." He said, his hand lingering on a cut on her cheek that she got because of him when he dragged her towards the factory. "But you. You can live on. A better life."

"I could have, but that better life that I wanted," Donna paused, breathing in as she felt her words being swallowed. "I wanted it with you."

"But I can't give that to you, Donna."

"Then give it to me here. Right here." Donna said, inching closer to Karl, feeling his hot breath on her cold damped skin. Karl pulled her close and rested his head on her forehead, closing his eyes and feeling the warmth and comfort he got from her.

"Get some rest. By tomorrow, you will be better." Karl said, pulling away from her. Donna held his hands tight, afraid to let him go. Afraid to lose him again.

"W-What do you mean?" Karl slowly loosened her grip on his hands and smiled at her softly. Picking up his hat and hammer, he walked out of the room, shutting it from outside. Donna sat down, confused and dejected. Lying down on the cold floor, the girl shut her eyes tightly and sobbed, her wails and whimpers slowly lulling her to sleep.

-

It was as if the ground below her was shaking. She didn't know what it was. Donna jerked awake as she felt a sudden push from below. The girl gasped, looking around. It wasn't the room where Karl had kept her. It was...smaller and more cramped and...moving?

"Ah, Lady Beneviento! You are awake!" A jovial and cheery voice pulled Donna's attention. It was a man, friendly and big.

"W-Who are you, and where am I?"

"I am the Duke, a humble merchant, and you are in my carriage. Lord Heisenberg asked me to take you to the other side of the forest."

"Karl? Karl, where is he?!" Donna asked, looking around frantically.

"He couldn't make it," Duke said apologetically. "He wants you to take that little box. That should help you earn a living, not luxurious, but enough to survive," Donna looked to her right and there it was, the box. She opened it, and inside was Karl's chain that he wore every day, some coins and some ornaments. And a small doll that resembled Angie. But prettier and newer.

"What happened back there?"

"Lady Miranda caught him trying to escape. Ah, it looks like we're here!"

"Duke. Can I go back?"

"I'd suggest you not. He wants you to stay alive, my Lady. Best you honour his wishes. Do this for him" Donna looked at the chain, tracing the engravings on it. The girl looked into the box and saw a small note in it.

Thank you for setting me free. I hope to see you in another life where we will be together, just like we dreamt.

The girl pulled the note to her chest, feeling a strange pain in her body. She felt heavy. She felt like she was breaking apart. She felt as if she couldn't breathe. Duke looked at the girl sadly. He couldn't help her, and he wasn't sure how to.

"Thank you," Donna muttered, stepping out of the carriage with the box in her hand. Ahead she saw a little Village. A chance for a new life, but one without Karl. How could she live without him?

'Best you honour his wishes. Do this for him.'

"Okay, Karl." Donna sniffed, a bittersweet smile on her face, as she walked towards the Village, her hand tightly clutching the chain. As she approached, a man, probably the gatekeeper, stopped her.

"Who are you, and state your purpose."

"Donna. Donna Heisenberg. I seek refuge in your Village. Mine was destroyed by monsters." The gatekeeper nodded and took a moment to observe her ragged state, his eyes softening as he noticed her bruises and blood.

"Alright, follow me. You can speak to his Majesty." Donna nodded, smiling softly.

A new life. A better life. For Karl.

In the woods, near the factory lay Karl Heisenberg, bloodied and stabbed on the ground. He held a glove tightly in his hand. Donna's glove. The one he pulled from her when his father forcefully separated him from Donna. Rubbing his thumb across the soft material of the glove, Karl smiled, looking up to the heavens, his vision fading away slowly.

"Thank you, Donna."

[thelastspeecher]

elishevart replied to your post: “elishevart replied to your post: “How about some...”

Ford spots the swan with above average intelligence and starts to study it, as maybe the first anomalie he decides to study

Ooh, yes!  He points out to Fiddleford how odd it is that this swan has such high intelligence, and Fiddleford’s like “well birds are smarter than you’d think, especially the big ones like swans”.  Fidds also v gently reminds Ford that swans are incredibly dangerous and territorial, so he should be careful.

Ford then says that the swan seems fine with humans.  Or at least, fine with Angie, which makes Fidds comment on how Angie’s apparently befriended the random swan back home and one here.

But then Fidds takes a closer look at the swan that Ford’s been studying, and realizes that it’s the same swan from back home.  He recognizes Stan because his swan beak has like, a lump in it or something from all the times he got his nose broke as a human (he was a boxer and liked to get into fights, Stan broke his nose all the time, I guarantee it).

And Fidds has never heard of a swan befriending a human and following them halfway across a continent before, so he starts to think that maybe Ford’s not barking up the wrong tree.  There might be something to Ford’s curiosity about this swan’s intelligence.

Also, as an aside, I think that cursed Stan’s human appearance should be slightly different than usual.  Just to help with how Angie somehow didn’t catch that he looked just like her friend at college, since that’s not something she wouldn’t notice.  The main thing I can think of is that his hair is white to match the color of his swan feathers.  His hair is also pretty long and he’s got a beard, both of which are from the fact he’s been unable to get a haircut or shave for however long he’s been cursed.  There might be some other differences but I’m not sure what they would be.

[furinana]

Megaten Furbait compilation

A list of myth characters that were depicted as animals or animals with anthropomorphic features in the Megami Tensei series that have some level of appeal to furries.

Birds, reptiles and other species included.

Now let’s start!

Garuda

Kaneko designed very, very few humanoid birds (even less featuring actual beaks) so Garuda is a big win to me. I love his playful pose from the first artwork combined with the big thigh exposition.

Anzu

The curly beard and the shining brown skin really give him an extra attractiveness.

Kabuso

I fell in love with this little fellow at first sight. The way he just looks down and has a “tch!” expression like he’s mocking you.

Anubis

I don’t pay much attention to Anubis since he’s depicted in essentially the same way in a lot of other media. His slender and sophisticated figure is still mesmerizing to stare regardless.

Quetzalcoatl

I tend to prefer his human form but Quetz’s dragon form isn’t half-bad. His pissed face like he’s mad at you for eating the last piece of ham from the fridge.

Baphomet

This goat has his horn on fire and has something sticking out of his crotch! He’s up to no good! Now that I think about it, the sword and the shield must symbolize his hermaphroditism.

Behemoth

He looks at you the same way a pregnant mother would do to her lover.

Gagyson

I’m not fond of demons with a lot of random features all over them. I forgive Gagyson because he’s bird-like and is cackling maniacally.

Neko Shogun

Is he a demon or a toy? SO FRIGGIN’ CUTE! I LOVE YOU, DAMNIT!

Hanuman

A dignified old man doing yoga. Check out the little golden monkey in his armor.

Heqet

This froggie looks so happy to see you! She’s like a character that came straight from Animal Crossing.

Dormath

Not very furry-like but at least she’s worth more than Nekomata. She looks comfy to hug. Be careful or she’ll hit you with a Macca Beam though.

Ose

There it is... the most insane furbait of the list. This fucker tricks you into thinking he’s covering himself but as soon as you look at him from behind you find out he’s been walking around with his ass completely bare. It’s like he’s tainting you to look at it. Don’t even get me started at his Hallel form.

Chironnupu

BABY YOU’RE SO CUTE!!! His tongue imitating perfectly the way a dog pants cheerfully when its owner is close!!!

Hecate

A personal favorite. As soon as you summon her, she gets ready to push you onto the bed and peg your ass.

Shesha

Shesha’s battles aren’t something exciting to remember about but I truly do like his enormous snake body. Too bad you couldn’t summon him in this state.

Fomorian

If you are into hunks, Fomorian is just your dude. Remind him not to skip leg day though.

Amon

This guy definitely fucks. Beware of his ridiculously long arms.

Ganesha

I wanna touch his fat nipples and his bellybutton.

Basilisk

Such a jolly little creature! It’s like a Pokémon! 

Jambavan

He seems way less scary once you realize he’s a bear.

Gryphon

I wanna pull his big tail and see him screaming agonishingly. Apparently his meat is quite tasty.

Azumi

Azumi might be JUST YOUR THING if you liked The Shape of Water. I wonder if her mouth is too rough to kiss.

Pazuzu

There’s something that awakens in me when I stare at his happy trail.

Kuda, Inugami and Makami

L     O    N    G

O

N

G

BOIS

Wu Kong

I like his personality in the games a lot. A troublesome kid that speaks brashly.

Girimehkala

I wanna touch his fat nipples and bel-oh wait, I already said this to Ganesha.

Cait Sith

Look at his stupidass huge boots. I love this guy.

Nalagiri

I’m not enthusiastic about elephants in general but Kaneko sure draws them in a way that makes me captivated. I like how this one feels gritty and muscular contrasting the chubby ones.

Suparna

The pre-evolution of Garuda. Very majestic. I love the extension thingies from his crown.

Mushussu

The little snark with his tongue while looking at the viewer. It’s the little details that count.

Mezuki

I hate horses. I truly truly hate horses. I’m fond of this one for some reason however. Maybe it’s the fanged teeth? Or the cute braids?

Tao Tie

You don’t wanna get on this fluffy fella’s bad side.

Kobold

I like how this Kobold has quite some feminine figure. Small hips and big boobs.

Illuyanka

A body of water shaped into a masked dragon. Kaneko really nailed on the execution of this one.

Orias

I truly don’t care about Orias but his old artwork is funny. He’s tied to his horse as if both were a present.

Hachidaiou

A rare one! And it’s a turtle! Does his shell only cover his back?

Seth

Despite his major villain profile in the lore, his personality in the negotiations sums up as “big moe beast that loves lettuce”.

Mithra

"Bro” “What is it, bro” “I tied myself all over you bro” “B-bro...”

Chi You

I know it’s just his spear but the shadow makes it seems he’s wearing high heels.

Tangata Manu

Tangata Manu is so cartoonishly weird to the point it’s adorable. Look how shitty his wings are. Poor guy. 

Senri

Furry milfs stretching? Furry milfs stretching, anyone?

Makara

Makara in Dx2 is friggin adorable. I often forget it’s supposed to be from the Dragon race because of its little Bambi head.

Heavenly Generals

Kaneko the absolute madman designed the twelve chinese zodiac animals as boss enemies. THEY ALL HAVE THE SAME HAIRSTYLE.

Kikimora

I love chickens but she doesn’t resemble one enough to be endearing on this aspect to me. I like the ‘creepy creature in domestic clothes’ image though. She even helps you with housework if she feels you’re hard-working enough!

Vasuki

This one knows he’s a bastard and is fully delighted with it.

Hresvelgr

His cute expression sure makes bird lovers like myself fall to our knees.

Cerberus

Everyone’s favorite doggie! Regardless of how generic Cerberus ends up becoming in later games, his role as Nakajima’s loyal partner or our lovely Pascal the dog makes me quite fond of him.

Kamapua’a

A pig with a cape! A PIG WITH A CAPE!

Fafnir

I keep thinking of that mission in Strange Journey where you had to casually ask Fafnir for a piece of his body. Since he’s all made of metal, I guess letting someone else borrow your leg wouldn’t hurt you.

Samael

I never got to properly use one yet in the games but I'm super fond of his design. The color palette is one of my favorites.

Yatagarasu

no talk with me im angy

[a-eo-iu]

Character circles

I've been thinking of doing this post for a while so. Howdy. Most of my characters, as expected, come in groups. Be it by family, by work or by something else, they are tied to each other. This is my attempt to summarize these groups and who's who in them (no illustrations though)

Fantasy story (placeholder name)

"Main" trio: Marse, Francis & Revina

They're just the three I tend to think about the most. The first two are cursed with immortality beyond their control, the last one is just kinda under the influence of a being able to extend her life expectancy without her knowledge. They are all very old and very full of sad backstories and a strong desire to travel.

Temples: Revina, Ylika, Adienne, Angi, Oli, Nul

The Temples of the One True God, also known as the Evil God, also known as Nul. Nul is a being beyond existence, powerful enough to declare itself a god. Adienne is its clone daughter, who adopted Revina as her sister and underling. Revina is now a big [priestess?] of the Temples, and Ylika is her very stressed assistant and impulse control. Angi is a sort of special mercenary of the Temples and is also married to Adienne, and Oli is her twin who works with paperwork. These two are shapeshifters. Marse and Francis used to work in the Temples too, that's how they all met, but they left.

Elleiz (the world): Marse, Ban, Elleiz (the sun), (the three families/kingdoms), Cassande, Gaens

Elleiz is Marse's homeworld. Ban is his ancestor, cursed by the sun Elleiz, who is actually an ancient being, for taking over the world. Ban and Elleiz are sort of a super slow burn enemies to lovers kinda pair. The three kingdoms/families (Elleizet, Deremor and Gaen) were originated by Ban's three children. Marse is an Elleizet and a Deremor, but the Deremor family was killed and the kingdom is now an anarchy, so they're only an Elleizet. Cassande is an Elleizet queen, and the first to be cloned from Marse instead of from the original queen, so she's kind of Marse's very late twin. The Gaens are... A big empire.

Gaens: (some historical figures,) Leon, Liane, Bruno, Damaris

There's more people, but these are the ones I remember first and most. Leon, Liane and Bruno are siblings, the first two being twins. Their mother died researching Ban's curse, and Leon decided to continue that. Liane is doing her best to be important and seen as her own important person and not her brothers' sister. Bruno is far away from home, being the principal of a "school" that is kinda politically important but not too much. He's just really dedicated to run away from it all. Leon is also an important commander of the Gaen army in a sort of emergencies and dangerous expeditions section, and in one of these dangerous expeditions he found Damaris, an android from an old dead world. Leon also goes through some shit.

You Are Free

The "main" ones: Mon, Luz, Leader, Second (in Command, also known as SiC)

The characters I think about the most. Mon is a university student who supports but does not want to get close to the rebellion, Luz is her neighbor who is secretly Leader's spy (and possibly lover?), Leader is the dictator who hates rebels, and Second is his second in command who hates the fuck out of him.

Leader

The title given to the ruler of the country the story takes place in. The current one is Leader#43, also known as #31 or Theory.

The government: Leader, Second, the Senate, all the minor people I haven't created yet

Leader is a spy who did not want to get this far in life, the Senate hates him and picked him a terrible Second in Command to try to control him, Second is a tired soldier who hates Leader more than she cares about what she's doing. There are probably more people, but I have yet to create them.

Beaks: soldiers

They control the country, and they wear masks with beaks, thus the name. Beaks do not have names, only numbers, going from 2 to 101. The smaller the number the higher their ranking, and the more benefits they have.

The magazine: Mon and her coworkers

10 people in total: Dave (the cool boss), Em (the responsible boss), Bro (history), Pills (fun facts), Ray (photography), Hell (chronicles), Ju (science), Vic (poetry), Giz (illustrator), Mon (illustrator). I do not have a name for the magazine yet. They are rebel sympathizers, and some are active rebels.

The Rebellion

There are actually many rebel groups across the country, each with a different approach and outfit. They fight against the government in many levels and ways, and are considered criminals.

MALZ

Mod, Antu, Lum, Zelic

Mod and Antu are botfriends who work with Lum as space criminals and part-time human hunters. Zelic is the new(ish) alien I made who hates Lum for unknown reasons (probably related to them constantly destroying the two robots in their secret mad scientist experiments).

[imagine-a-killingharmony]

V3 Girls + Sandwich Stealer

HOW would the V3 girls react to a large bird snatching their sandwich away from them?

Hey who wants a stupid fact? I didn’t know you didn’t spell sandwich without a T until like sixth grade, so I was just eating a lot of witches who like sand.

Poor Himiko...

-Mod Shuichi

Tenko Chabashira

Her.

Her sandwich.

Kirumi Tojo made that sandwich.

You degenerate bird.

She lets out the loudest warcry she can before she goes on the attack towards that degenerate bird, luckily enough their in a dome so they both can’t get too far.

With enough screaming the bird finally lets go of her sandwich and a... couple of other sandwiches alongside it, she looks forlorn at her sandwich... wasted... she wipes a tear from her eye.

The bird flies down to try to pick it back up, she almost glares at it but Himiko comes by immediately going to capture the bird in her witch-hat. “M-My dove went missing! I was looking for her everywhere... thanks Tenko...”

Tenko feels her heart grow lighter rubbing the back of her neck, not even bothered at the now-ruined sandwich in her hands. “... N-No problem! Himiko...”

Thank you, you degenerate bird.

Himiko Yumeno

She chewed at her sandwich just minding her business, and then one of her doves came down and swooped it straight from her hands... She looked up feeling her lip quiver.

That... she... she made it herself... it was so tiring to make too... she almost cries...

Until she realizes that’s her bird, that makes her want to DOUBLE cry...

She picks herself up, taking her hat and some birdseeds out. “Coooome baaack! Nyeeeeh...! Noooo...”

She hesitantly follows along letting out a whine and some complaints too, she gets to...! That’s her sandwiiiiich... nooo...

She finds Tenko a good while away, Wait is that...? She rushes towards her pushing forward with all the muscles in her legs, it kinda’ burns... what a pain...

Angie Yonaga

Angie stares up at the bird who fled away her sandwich within it’s little beak, she clasps her hands together.

“Atua shall enact their heavenly revenge on you, Angie sees! Thank you Atua! How heavenly~!”

She goes to find Kirumi so she can find another sandwich to eat, one that won’t get stolen.

When she finds Kirumi and asks her to make a sandwich! She agrees, this was the easiest solution to such a problem y’know? Should’ve expected it.

Kaede Akamatsu

When the bird catches her sandwich ich within it’s beak she looks a little surprised but there’s honestly no need to cry over spilt milk is there? Of course it’s a pain, especially since Kirumi made it but... Kirumi’s in the kitchen, so like a responsible person she...

She should go to Kirumi for another sandwich, why... really! Good for the bird who ate it, but isn’t that Himiko’s dove?

Oh well...! It’s not like they won’t catch it soon, yeah?

Iruma Miu

...

She’s making an invention, a pesticide for damn birds. She grumbles at the lost of her lunch with a grimace, her stomach rumbles...

Her brilliant mind shouldn’t have to go through this, her goldren brain cells burst whenever they have to deal with BULLSHIT like this...!

She’s groaning the time throughout as she goes by to her lab to create a bird pesticide, why... hell! Why not make it cool? Like a gun.

Yeaaah... Bird-Gun! What a genius invention!

Miu can’t help but to smirk, her genius brain has done it yet again!

She holds out the gun, she made it perfect for gettin’ rid of birds! Kehehehe!

Tsumugi Shirogane

“Ah! What a plain shame... Well I wasn’t that hungry anyway.”

She just doesn’t care, it was just a sanwitch and nothing more...?

Tsumugi isn’t even that hungry.

Yeah alright, she’s fine.

Maki Harukawa

Maki grumbles lightly looking down at the sandwiches Kaito has made to show his two best sidekicks his appreciation!

They don’t... even look bad, they look good, really good considering what an idiot he is...

“Yep! These are sandwiches made with allllll of Kaito Momota’s love for the two of you, I was gonna ask Kirumi but she already made snacks for everybody else! Didn’t wanna disturb her.” Kaito says pressing his fists together, with that cliched grin.

“This is really good Kaito... I... I didn’t know you could cook...” Shuichi’s already biting into the food, he looks happy. “R-Really... almost as good as Kirumi’s...”

“... Heh! I know, told ya’ I put a hella’ ton of effort into this! Anyway, whatdya’ think Makiroll?” Kaito with his big idiotic smile turns to her for her reaction, she sulks.

Maki doesn’t even try to say some snarky comment, she just goes in for a bite with a huff.

...

Then a bird snatches it away before she can even take a bite, Kaito and Shuichi watch it fly away...

Maki stares at it fly away, Kaito lets out a gasp and Shuichi looks dumbfound.

“Oh’ shit... sorry Makiroll...! Guess you won’t get to try my cooking, but I’m pretty sure Kirumi’s taking requests again so there’s no needta’ fret-“ Kaito can’t even finish.

Maki walks away from the scene her face having gone dark, a threatening aura spilling out of her.

Can Miu make her a gun? It’s the only way she’ll be able to reach that damned bird....

Maki sulks all day.

Kirumi Tojo

Kirumi watches the bird fly away, ah that’s one of the doves from within Himiko’s lab. Did she accidentally let them loose? That’s not the issue, that bird is flying around without care... how unsightly, that’s not even the worst of it, it even took away the sandwich she made for herself for her break...

Kirumi pats at her dress, she should try to find something to get it down from there, so she scurries off inside.

While it appears she’s gained more duties to fulfill, Angie walks up to her asking for another sandwich which takes little to no time to prepare so she decides to finish that off before the bird problem, she goes to get to work done in the kitchen.

She’s rather surprised to hear the bird problem’s been solved when she leaves the kitchen, yet nobody bothers to explain what occurred... she doesn’t press on the issue.

[the-walnut-gallery]

Saioumota Week Day 6 - Sleeping

Camping Skills - AO3 

@saioumotaweek

Darkest Dungeon AU - though hopefully it can still be enjoyed if you don’t know the game! 

Momota, Saihara and Ouma pause their expedition to camp, a momentary respite from the horrors surrounding them all.

The flame roared and crackled on the floor in front of them, thankfully the logs they had carried through these ruins had caught alight without much resistance and now kept the room somewhat warm and lit. It was a relief to take a break from carrying the torches around constantly in the hopes of avoiding any ambushes and the horrors of the dark.  

Saihara pulled his cloak around himself tighter, the room was warm from their campfire but the underground chill still made its way through the crumbling walls around them. He kept his beaked mask on his face as he counted the vials around his belt, checking his inventory for the remainder of the quest ahead. He would remove it when he slept, it acted as mostly protection from his own blights that he made and carried as opposed to any plagues that may lie under the manor. He had seen plenty of unmasked people make their way out of the crypts un-ailed, and plenty of people taking all the necessary precautions who still ended up diseased in some way or another.  

He was grateful now that he had prepared extra for this mission, he still had plenty of stunning grenades, filled with gas that could burst into sound and light on impact, and plague grenades, filled with a liquid that produced noxious vapors. Then there was the buffing and healing, more vapors that could embolden fighters and bring out their strengths, and medicines that couldn’t heal for a lot, but could provide some comfort to his allies. The dagger ached in his pocket, it was rarely used in favor of his other abilities that could bring them advantages, but sometimes brute force was the only way and as their situation got more desperate it was more and more likely that it would need to be used.  

He really wasn’t sure if his healing supplies would be enough for the rest of the dungeon. He was never the designated healer, four of them had embarked on this mission but now only three of them sat around the fire. He’d told the other two that they should leave once one fell, but they had insisted that they could still push on. He understood that if they left now it may feel like her death was in vain, but it would be much worse if they all died there. Somehow their sanity remained mostly intact, still allowing them to make decisions with clarity.  

Their fourth ally had been Angie Yonaga, an ever-faithful vestal to her God Atua. She had been quirky and enthusiastic, an always welcome addition to a team to keep spirits and health high. Even those who did not believe could not deny her skill and devotion. That’s why it had been hard on them all as they watched the skeletal arbalest take aim and hit her dead on with its bolt. They’d fought hard to protect her as she laid on the ground at death’s door, but before Saihara had a chance to administer his battlefield medicine she’d bled out. It had not been a fitting end for the cheerful girl, left lying on the broken paved ground in her own blood, but it was the end she had.  

He finally shifted his mask down to his slim neck, content with the numbers of chemicals he had remaining and took note of the activities of the others. Ouma ran cloths and worked tools into his gun expertly, cleaning and maintaining it to keep it at peak performance for what they had left to conquer. He had earlier set up lines of wire and bells around the doors of their safe room to prevent a nighttime ambush while they rested. Perks like that were certainly comforting as lethargy began to overtake them. Gold eyes couldn’t help but note that the smallest of them had barely taken any food from their rations despite them having had enough for a full meal each. Momota had tried to force him to take more but his appetite had been lacking. The plague doctor wondered if it was the stress beginning to get to him. He’d dodged a lot of physical attacks, swords swinging in his direction, but he had been struck by the wine of the bone courtiers and entranced by the gestures of acolytes a few too many times.  

Then there was Momota, clad in heavy armor and bandaging his wounds. His armor offered him protection but eventually the blades made their way to his flesh, cutting and slashing. His helmet had been placed to the side for their camp, unable to sleep with it on. He appeared antsy, as if there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how to say it. Finally, he stood, the clanking of metal catching the attention of the two other boys.  

“We’re already more than halfway through this dungeon, it's been rough on our way to this point, sure, but we’ll push onwards. Once we finish scouting this area it’ll open up the path for all of us to keep moving on through these ruins and together we’ll eventually defeat the darkest dungeon there is! The secrets of this manor cannot be kept from heroes like us, and sometimes heroes need to lay down their lives for the good of others. Yonaga would not be sad to know that she met her end like this, she would be proud that we’re able to keep going and proud that she was part of something as big as this.” He bowed his head at the end of his zealous speech, sitting back down and placing his sword to his side, regarding the loyal blade fondly.  

Saihara couldn’t help but think about how far Momota had come, he still remembered their first dungeon where they had been accompanied by another vestal and a different highwayman, both had perished on other quests over time. Momota had been trembling at the sight of the skeletons and ghouls and abominations that appeared before them. Since he had been able to control his fear of the unholy enough to even give a speech at a time like this. A smile made its way to Saihara’s face for the first time in a while, the memory clearing his mind and reminding him of how far they had all come. Even Ouma seemed to be feeling a little better after hearing those words, finishing his gun maintenance, casting his alert gaze around the room to ensure there were no other openings that needed trapping.  

Though worry still gnawed at the back of his mind, how could it not? The fire began to flicker at a greater frequency as it started to pitter out, giving way to darkness. A loud yawn escaped the crusader, stretching his muscular arms upwards in exhaustion.  

“We should get some rest, our stocks will hold for the rest of this dungeon,” Momota spoke, checking their shared bag of what they still held in their supplies. Their last remaining shovel sat beside the bag, and they hoped it would be enough to take down any walls they still had left to break.  

“The traps are all set, nothing will get through these doors tonight,” Ouma spoke for the first time since they settled, voice carefree but eyes fixated on the remaining flame. Momota bit his lip, his concern for the sneaky boy boiling in his gut.  

They had both heard how his last quest had gone, though he appeared to have recovered now. They had all been through terrible things, had friends die both in front of them, watched as people broke down and lost their final shreds of sanity, they had all been witness awful things. But Ouma and his previous party had laid eyes on something worse than horrific, something far outside of human comprehension even. Though they did not know the details, the others from that party refusing to talk or think about it further, not wishing to recall those memories, they knew it had been bad.  

Yonaga herself had told them both that while she had been praying in the abbey to Atua she had seen an unusual face enter the holy place. Ouma was not one for religion, usually making his way to the gambling hall after a quest and mocking Momota for his losses, or trying to entice Iruma to play with her best trinkets on the line. He had stumbled into the abbey and responded to Yonaga’s greeting with incoherent ramblings and nonsensical accusations. He would have caused a scene had there been more people. He had laughed incessantly at her whenever she attempted to speak and yelled that he ‘had not killed her, it had only been an accident’ despite their mission having had no fatalities, and told her all about his candle making abilities that, in reality, did not exist. Finally, he left her and locked himself in a penance chamber, the sharp noise of leather hitting flesh ringing out from the heavy door, until he had recovered. His attitude had caused her distress, so she had stayed in the abbey until he emerged, tired but sane.  

“Are you alright?” Saihara gently asked him over the dying the fire.  

“Hunky dory! Why wouldn’t I be?” a familiar grin crept across his face, finally shifting his attention away from the fire, breathing light.  

“We should all be honest with each other, it will be hard to continue as three so we cannot keep secrets right now. It could be deadly.” Saihara kept his gaze hard, knuckles whitening as he clutched the thick material of his black cloak.  

“You don’t need to tell me, I’m the most honest person here!” he sat up straight, insisting it was true to the chuckles of the others.  

The trio shuffled closer together, sleeping far apart from each other would only lead to them each feeling cold and alone, in these times it was more beneficial to know that others were near and to be able to wake them quickly, worst comes to worst. Amongst the silence though, their warrior of light could not let the issue pressing in his mind lie.  

“What did you see?” he quietly asked, turning his attention to Ouma, who blinked back innocently. “On your last quest, what was it you all saw?” A few beats of silence passed between them, before a response finally filled the air.  

“A creature that,” his mouth was dry, the words catching against his teeth and tongue uncertainly, “a man that takes those who perished in these dungeons.”  

“Takes them?” Saihara felt a chill travel down his spine despite his warm attire, would that man be able to take Yonaga too, then?  

“The Collector, it looks like a man with a skeletal head, but underneath the coat,” his voice died out into panicked gasps, Momota opened his mouth to speak, to calm him but he continued on, “he could call forth those who had perished, they would fight for him, a collection of, of heads,” stuttering and breathing heavy he struggled to continue on, “heads that still lived, heads that screamed and souls that fought.” Momota wrapped his strong arms around the small boy’s shaking form, attempting to offer a physical comfort to quell the horrors of the mind.  

“More reason why we must heal this afflicted land,” Saihara mumbled, pulling himself closer into their huddle, ignoring the paranoia building within him. The trauma of experiencing such a thing was clearly great if it could cause someone as strong willed as Ouma to crumble and whimper, and in all likelihood the only reason he was willing to share this with them was the fear that it could return while in their presence. Knowledge was power.  

“Does it only take the heads of the dead?” Momota asked hesitantly, truly knowing the answer already but desperately wanting to be wrong.  

“I think so, but they don’t have to be dead before it finds them,” he whispered darkly. “If anyone were caught by it, then they would end up inside that coat,” he paused, breathing slowing and body returning to his own control. They didn’t need to know what exactly was inside that coat, and Ouma didn’t seem ready to elaborate. They hoped to never know what was inside that coat.  

“Courage, men. We shall prevail,” Momota gave final words of comfort to the two, allowing Ouma to nestle his head against his own unprotected neck, and Saihara’s arm laid heavily across them both, body curled up against Ouma’s.  

“Look at you,” Ouma drawled out playfully, “all ready to knock some skulls!”  

“Let us save this energy for tomorrow,” Saihara sleepily yawned, encouraging both the boys to settle down to rest.  

They would need all the energy and courage they could muster to finish this overwhelming task with their handicapped numbers. At least, no matter what happened as they continued on, they would be together in victory or defeat.  

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Just like Me

Of course, Alexander Hamilton worried about his children.

Like all parents, he worried about them getting lost at the supermarket and wandering away from him, he worried about strangers trying to talk to them and take them, he worried about them crossing roads, about bullies at school and sharp objects hidden in the grass. His heart tightened just a little when he saw Philip wandering a little too close to the railing near the river, when he saw baby AJ slip on the stairs, still unsteady on his feet. He worried about a lot of things, the way all parents do.

But Alex also had a lot of other worries. Some that maybe other moms and dads wouldn’t even think of.

He tensed when he saw Eliza having to spend ten minutes getting Philip to leave his bed on Saturday mornings. He bit his lip so hard it bled a little whenever he saw Angie looking gloomy, lost in her own little world with her face set in a frown, while her brothers ran around and played. When his little namesake threw his toys and yelled and cried for no apparent reason, even with his parents best efforts to calm him down, Alex would realise he’d been holding his breath for a long time, that he was suddenly panting and gasping for air.

Alex wondered if his kids found it a little strange how often their Pops asked if they were okay, if they were happy. Why every glum mood seemed to have him at battle stations, offering piggy back rides and stories and pulling funny faces in a slightly desperate attempt to get their little smiles back. Why mama would come over and rest her hand on his shoulder and give him a hug and a kiss, like she was trying to reassure him that everything was okay.

Alex tried to dial it back, he really did. He didn’t want to frequently have nightmares where he’d be playing with his kids and they’d suddenly go quiet, they’d blur a little at the edges. He’d have to watch the colour suddenly drain out of their forms, leeching out onto his hands as he held them until it was like they couldn’t hear him calling their names. They’d just slip out of his reach without even moving. And suddenly they wouldn’t look like themselves any more, they’d look like a leaner, warier child, the sad and frightened little shadow he still remembered being even fifteen years later. He didn’t want to wake up panting and shaking, having to run to one of their bedrooms at the risk of waking them up but he just needed to know they were still here.

Eliza would always be waiting with her arms open and her eyes slightly sorrowful when he returned, folding herself around him in that way she knew he liked, holding him close against her until she felt his heartbeat settle to a normal pace.

“My poor Alex,” she’d murmur gently, kissing his temples, in the spot that always made him shiver, “They really are okay, baby, you don’t need to worry.”

Alex would blink back the inevitable tears, burying his face in her hair, “I know. But I do. I just…I just couldn’t stand it if any of them turned out like me.”

It always hurt Eliza to hear him say that, to hear in words how little he thought of himself, but she knew what he really meant. She knew he lived in fear of the struggles he’d faced, that he still faced in a way, somehow infecting their children, like his genetics held some kind of poison. Like along with their amber skin and dark curls and long noses, they’d inherited his anxieties and burdens.

There were some deep-rooted fears that Eliza was forced to realise couldn’t be taken away with hugs and whispered comforts and gentle kisses to the temple. But damn it, she could try and she did, every time they resurfaced.

But Alex was always going to worry.

 Alex liked to listen to music when he worked. Partly because it helped him find a rhythm, partly because it distracted the admittedly small and underused parts of his brain that would be crying boredom, weariness and hunger after three solid hours of work. Partly because he liked the ritual and ceremony of using the vinyl record player Eliza had bought him for their third anniversary, partly because it had been a fun excuse to annoy Burr back when they were junior lawyers, blasting the Rent soundtrack on repeat through their cramped little broom closet of an office.

But since becoming a father, he’d found a new element of necessity for his music. It drowned out the sounds of his children crashing through their small apartment, not enough that he couldn’t be said to be keeping an eye on them, but enough that their sounds of play and enjoyment didn’t tempt him away from his desk. As much as part of him ached to be with them, running away from the sounds of the ancient, creaking boiler, pretending it was an approaching monster or having lightsabre battles with taped together toilet roll tubes, he just turned the music up louder.

“You can do them way more good sat here,” Alex told himself firmly, pulling another spreadsheet towards him, “It’ll be worth it in the long run.”

That’s what he always told himself when his exponentially expanding political career dragged him away from his family. It was all for them, once he’d built them the future they deserved, then he’d make up for lost time. He just hadn’t done enough yet.

Still, his heart felt a little heavier as he started on this new run of statistics, as a new song kicked into gear.

Not enough yet.

Alex was lost in his own little word of numbers and figures and reports when the sound of the screams jolted him back to reality. He was halfway out of his chair when Pip came flying through the door (they were allowed to enter Pops’ office without asking as long as it was an emergency).

“Pops!” his seven year old looked damn near frantic, the cloud of hair that made him look like he should have difficulty keeping his head upright bouncing erratically as he hopped from foot to foot, “Angie! It’s Angie, she was on the fire escape- “

Philip didn’t get the chance to say any more as his father rocketed past him, eyes wild. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears as a million terrifying scenarios flashed through his mind. Things only got worse as he sprinted into the kitchen and saw his only daughter, thankfully not suspended six storeys above a busy New York street, but hunched over and sobbing and wailing like she’d been stabbed in the heart. AJ was wailing too, his big sister’s tears infectious, but Theo Burr, bless her heart, had him in her lap, rocking him gently and soothing him as best a six year old could. But she was a particular favourite of AJ’s, he was already starting to quieten for her.  

“Mija?” his voice cracked with stress as he knelt by his shivering daughter, a cautious hand on her shoulder, “I’m here, baby girl, everything’s okay…”

But Angie only jerked away from his touch, curling in on herself tighter and sobbing too hard to make words.

Alex felt a sick kind of recognition, his vison going blurred around the edges. She was having a panic attack, he knew the signs and symptoms well enough from his own experience. God, this was what he’d always feared more than anything, the day one of his children flinched away from him, the way he’d turned in fear from his own father. His poor baby girl was having a panic attack and there was nothing he could do, she didn’t want him, she hated him, he’d tried so hard, he really had, what had he done wrong?

He clenched his teeth and gave himself a mental slap in the face. Eliza wasn’t here, she was at work. He was all Angie had right now, he couldn’t let himself slip away.

So what he did was he sat back, the cold metal of the fire escape floor digging into him through his sweatpants. He kept his arms by his sides, his voice as low and soothing as he could make it right now, leaning in while still giving his daughter some space.

“Angelica?” he murmured gently, “Angie, it’s me, it’s daddy. I’m here for you. I promise, I’m right here.”

Careful words, quiet voice, calm demeanour. Just like Eliza would do for him whenever he spiralled, just like his mother used to do so many years ago. Alex had to believe he could do this for her.

And sure enough, after a few moments his words sunk through the dark clouds that had gripped Angie, she unfurled a little, blinking at him through tearful eyes, still spilling over her sweet little face like waterfalls.

“P-Pops?” she squeaked, like she’d just realised he was there.

Alex felt tears spring to his own eyes. He always cried when he saw his little one’s crying, often before he knew the reason. He just couldn’t help it.

“Yeah, mija,” he spoke softly even as his breathing hitched, “I’m here. Baby girl, everything’s going to be okay.”

Angie’s face crumpled further, if that were even possible, a kind of gut wrenching sorrow flooding over it that Alex was very familiar with but had prayed he’d never see on a face so young. She opened up the hands that were still clasped to her heaving chest, revealing what she was holding.

“Oh,” Alex’s heart dropped to his shoes.

“He broke, daddy,” Angie wailed, her face set like one of those drama masks, “Fix him.”

Alex knew in an instant that the baby bird lying in his daughter’s shaking hands was beyond saving. There was blood spotting it’s pebble grey down, leaking onto Angie’s palm. It’s little dewdrop eyes were glassy and lifeless and its beak was open and slack.

God damn that cat to hell, Alex thought bitterly, thinking his first negative thoughts towards his wife’s beloved pet in years.

Angie’s best friends were the birds that perched on the railings of their flat’s fire escape. Eliza swore blind that when she was growing inside her, she’d always kick and jump excitedly at the sound of them twittering outside the window. Alex had felt it for himself, the feeling of that gentle nudging through Eliza’s taught skin chasing away his just woke up exhaustion every time. And then when she was a baby, she’d sit contentedly and watch them for hours, resting her chin on Alex’s shoulder, her sweet brown eyes wide with fascination. It was always a sure-fire way to lull her to sleep. She’d always crow and laugh with delight when they came to visit as they sat at the kitchen table, waving to them excitedly and, more often than not, sending oatmeal or porridge flying from her spoon as she did. ‘Birdie’ was one of her first words, after daddy and mama and Pip. And as she grew, they were all given names and distinct personalities and elaborate backstories. Whenever Angie couldn’t be found, whenever anyone asked where she was, the answer was almost always that she was out on the fire escape with the birds.

And most recently, she’d been even more engrossed, following the unfolding story of two pigeons nesting on the roof of the opposite apartment block. She’d been watching attentively, the hem of her dress and the slightly messy stray hairs in her braids ruffled by the wind since the day she first saw them. She’d even been allowed to miss bedtime one day to sit out there, perched on Eliza’s lap, shivering in her little nightdress and Alex’s coat, to watch as the only chick poked its way from the nest and took its first flight.

The same baby bird that now lay dead in her hands.

Angie looked beyond distraught as she pleaded, “Daddy! He broke, he all in bits, fix him please! Put him back together!”

Alex felt his head break in two as he had to sigh gently, cover the broken form of the little bird with a hand and shake his head, “Oh mija, mi cielo, I am so, so sorry. I wish I could, I really do but…I can’t fix this.”

Angie wailed in distress, “No, no, please! Please fix!”

Alex groaned, reaching to take the corpse away from her, “Poppy must’ve got him, baby girl, I’m so sorry…”

But his daughter pressed the feathery little thing back to her chest, shaking her head and slipping back into uncontrollable panicked sobs. Alex could only watch in sorrow, his chest clenching hard in the most painful way, knowing there was nothing he could do.

But eventually, with more murmured comforts and gentle words, Angie’s grip slackened and she let the lifeless little bird go into Alex’s hands where he gingerly placed it on the steps. To his indescribable relief, Angie let him take her in his arms, rocking her softly as she soaked his t shirt through with mournful tears. He could only repeat in his own head that they never lasted forever, the storm always passed, it wouldn’t last forever. And, after nearly an hour, Angie ran out of tears, left with only soft, catching hiccups. But he had his little girl back.

Alex covered her damp cheeks with kisses, petting her curls, “Oh my angel, my poor girl…”

“Hurts, Pops,” Angie whimpered, tapping her chest, “Hurts in here.”

Alex bit his bottom lip, “I know, mija, I feel it too sometimes. But it won’t last forever. It always fades away, baby girl, I promise. And every time it comes back, I’ll be right here to hold you tight. Okay?”

“Okay,” Angie buried her face against him again, balling her little fists in his shirt. But she did believe him, she always believed her Pops.

“Can you work the magic?” she cheeps after a while, after she had regained her breath, “Really hurts.”

Alex closed his eyes for a moment. One day Angie would have to learn that this pain wasn’t a physical thing, it wasn’t something that was as easy to fight as a finger trapped in a door or a bump on the head. But for now, he was more than happy to keep that truth a secret.

“Of course I can, angel, you just let Pops do his thing, I’ll take care of it,” he nodded, rubbing his hands together quickly, like he was trying to ignite a spark between his palms.

Once there was a considerable heat built up on his skin, he lifted Angie’s shirt a little and placed his warm hands on her skin, right where she’d pointed.

“Okay,” Alex smiled through watery eyes, “Say the magic words and all the hurt with go out of you and into my hands. What’s the magic word, mija?”

“Wepa!” Angie brightened, reciting the magic word Alex taught all his kids to make this little trick work.

Alex grinned, “That’s right! So…ow! Oh gosh, you were right, baby girl, lots of hurt in there…”

He snatched his hand away and waved it in the air like there was some discomfort or pins and needles in it, like he was shaking off some irritating acid.

“But now it’s gone,” he finished the little ritual he played with his children to help them feel better when they were sick.

“Now it gone,” Angie repeated, nodding sincerely, believing every word with the heartfelt sincerity of all five year olds.

Alex didn’t let the storm of emotions that brought up show on his face. He just nodded back, scooping Angie into his arms to fix the rest of the damage with ice cream and cuddles and recorded episodes of Adventure Time, his pile of work and spreadsheets long forgotten. Like that would always be enough.

 Alex would cry that night, when Eliza got home and he had to relay the whole story to her. Eliza would cry a little too, as she held him through his tears and reassured him that it wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t anything bad. Their little girl was just going to need a bit of help and they’d give her that, no matter what it took.

And, after a little while, Alex would believe her. Because there was nothing he wouldn’t do to help his family.

[accountantseo]

10 Underrated Local Review Sites You Overlooked

You know about the big local-business review sites.  You know about the review sites that matter most in your industry.  You probably know about the pipsqueaks, too.

But what about the review sites that matter more than you know?  Isn’t it possible there are some gaps in your online reputation?

If there aren’t, I’ll eat my hat.  There are always gaps – even for businesses with tons of reviews on many sites.  You probably know the benefits of diversifying where your customers review you.  Those benefits also extend to sites you might have dismissed as irrelevant or insignificant, or that you didn’t even think of.

I’m not saying all of these review sites are relevant to your situation, but at least some will be.

Here’s a rundown of what I consider the 10 most-overlooked local review sites:

Care.com Why it’s overlooked: it’s not a super-established “brand.”  Partly because the name itself is mushy, and partly because it’s not a search engine or a social network or a startup run by drama queens.  It’s just a solid reviews site.  It’s also visible one.  Care.com is all over Google’s search results in the in-home care and education spaces, for example, and most “service” businesses are eligible for a listing there.

WeddingWire Why it’s overlooked: because there’s a good chance you don’t run a bridal shop or a tux shop, or are a florist or photographer.  WeddingWire also lists businesses in all kinds of related industries: limos, venues, jewelry, and so on.  You can also get listed and reviewed there even if you own a car rental or a cryotherapy place, or if you’re a dentist, a dermatologist, or a plastic surgeon.  Maybe they’ll even allow divorce lawyers.

Zillow Why it’s overlooked: because most people think it’s just for real-estate listings and agents.   It’s not.  Pretty much any contractor or other home-improvement professional can have a listing there – and reviews there.  Though Zillow isn’t the 800-pound gorilla in the contracting space that it is in real estate, it may just be a matter of time.  In the meantime, anyone who sees your Zillow reviews there is probably pretty close to calling you.

Thumbtack Why it’s overlooked: because it’s got a home-improvement bent, it’s up against more-established sites like HomeAdvisor, Angie’s List, and Houzz.  Also, Thumbtack doesn’t seem to go out of its way to encourage reviews – for customers to write them, or for businesses to ask for them.  Still, the site is pretty visible in some niches, and can serve as a nice barnacle site – especially for “near me” search terms.  I wouldn’t be surprised if Thumbtack is acquired by an even-bigger player one day.  I’d scare up at least a few reviews there.

Groupon Why it’s overlooked: Groupon deals can be business-destroyers.  They often attract crybaby customers.  It doesn’t help that new businesses and businesses in dry spells are the ones most likely to offer deals.  Often those businesses also are the ones least-equipped to pull off the deals without incident – or to handle an online reputation disaster well.  But if you’re a pretty established business and aren’t dying for customers (but still want to attract more of them), look under the Groupon rock.  Yes, Groupon takes a big cut of the deal, but you can get reviews that stay up long after the deal ends.  Those reviews are highly visible, because Groupon is.  Even if you don’t want to offer a deal, you can get customers to “recommend” you and write “tips.”

GlassDoor Why it’s overlooked: customers don’t talk about it, because customers can’t write reviews there.  GlassDoor is a place for employees (past and current) to review your company anonymously.  Just the same, because customers can see what’s on GlassDoor easily enough, because it’s on Google’s local results like stink on a monkey.  If you stop short of encouraging everyone on your team to review you (anonymously), at least encourage the happy people to say their piece.  The angry ones will.  Time is of the essence.

InHerSight Why it’s overlooked: because it’s relatively new (started in 2015 or 2014, from what I can tell).  It’s similar to GlassDoor, except it’s specifically for women.  InHerSight is not exclusively a review site, but on it women can review (anonymously) places they’ve worked.  As of this writing it’s not a super-visible review site, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it takes off.

WebMD (doctor.webmd.com) Why it’s overlooked: if you’re anything like me, you associate WebMD only with feeling a mysterious new pain, Googling it, reading the WebMD result, and concluding you’ve got 3 days to live.  But it’s also a giant healthcare directory.  If you’re a doctor, do what you can to rustle up reviews there.

Amazon Home Services Why it’s overlooked: Amazon hasn’t done much in local search yet, and most business owners don’t want to wet Amazon’s beak or possibly deal with frustrating leads (a la Groupon).  Still, if you can get listed, it’s probably worth having a few reviews there, which can benefit you both before and after the sleeping giant wakes up.

Better Business Bureau Why it’s overlooked: most business owners associate the BBB with “complaints” from customers and with questionable accreditation ratings of certain businesses.  But it’s also a local-business reviews site, in the mold of Yelp and Google and so on.

BBB results often are extremely visible in the local organic search results – maybe more so than they should be – both for brand-name terms and often for the terms you really want to rank for.  Because people can (but don’t have to) write anonymous reviews there, and because an angry customer is likely to be there anyway to lodge a complaint, bad reviews are especially likely to appear on BBB – and to stick out.  The good news is good reviews stick out there, too.  Of all the “underrated” review sites I’ve mentioned, I consider BBB the most overlooked one of all.

—

What’s been your experience with those review sites?

Can you think of other review sites you consider overlooked?

Leave a comment!

via WhiteSpark-LocalViz-LeadWorks-Syndicated http://ift.tt/2y9Ex1j

[thelastspeecher]

Avian Again

Yet another installment in the Phoenix Enchantment AU, something that I have sunk far too much time and effort into, given that I have zero (0) plans to turn it into a legit multichap.  This is basically the follow-up to this ficlet, in which Ford and Fiddleford find out who the phoenixes Prometheus and Pele really are.  This particular ficlet right here takes place the day after Angie and Stan have reverted to phoenix form again, and are still trying to get things arranged for themselves and Molly.  Enjoy.

              “Tate’s been dropped off at daycare,” Ford said, walking into the living room, holding a bag from the game store.  “So, we can figure out a method of communication that doesn’t involve hundreds of dollars’ worth of damage.”  Ford looked meaningfully at Stan.  Stan, who was on the seat of the armchair, ruffled his feathers and squawked.  “By the way, Stan, why aren’t you standing on the arms of the chair?  Or the back? Those seem like better locations to perch.”  Stan looked at Ford and lifted his wing, revealing Molly huddled close to him. “…You like sitting there because it’s more comfortable for Molly?”  Stan nodded. “Fair enough.”

              “Stop arguin’ with Stan and come over here,” Fiddleford said.  He was at the table with Angie, scanning a book on bird training.  Angie turned the page with her beak.  “Thank you, Banjey.”  Fiddleford scratched the crown of Angie’s head.  She trilled happily.  Ford walked to the table.  He frowned.

              “I thought Stan and Angie refused to be treated like pets.”

              “Yes, but I thought this book might have tips fer teachin’ birds how to talk. Since the phoenixes are sort of like parrots, the idea was that they might be able to talk like ‘em.” Fiddleford sighed.  “But it’s just sayin’ things that don’t work fer sentient birds like Stan ‘n Angie.”  Angie cawed at him.  “Yeah, if you could talk, ya prob’ly would’ve done it by now.”

              “I swear, it seems like you understand them,” Ford said, taking a seat next to Fiddleford.  Fiddleford shrugged.  

              “I’m good at readin’ bird body language.  And I’ve known my sister her whole life.”  Angie cooed.  Fiddleford smiled warmly at her.

              “Talking is out, but what about the other methods we discussed?” Ford asked. Angie walked over to a piece of paper, picked it up in her beak, and brought it over to Ford.  “Oh.  Thank you.” Angie ruffled her feathers happily. “You and Stan are clearly excited about being treated properly again.”  Stan let out a loud crow.

              “As you can see, the method with usin’ a pen ‘n paper didn’t work out too well,” Fiddleford said.  Ford squinted at the piece of paper.

              “I can make out…cricket, Molly, daisy, and some swears.  And is that part of the word ‘cinnamon’?”

              “Angie gave up ‘fore she could finish writin’ it, ‘cause Miss Molly needed to be fed. You can prob’ly guess who wrote what.”  

              “It’s quite obvious.”  Ford sighed. “But the penmanship is horrific.”

              “And it took ‘em ‘bout fifteen minutes per word.  In an emergency, writin’ words won’t work.  Did ya get the other thing we thought of?”

              “Yes.”  Ford took a Scrabble board out of his bag.  He placed it on the table.  Angie squawked loudly.  “Be patient.” As Fiddleford got the pieces out, Ford looked over at Stan.  “Stan’s enjoying television privileges.”

              “So’s Molly.  I set Molly on the table with Angie at first, but she wanted her dad.  Wouldn’t stop her adorable screamin’.”  Angie clacked her beak.  “I know her screeches ain’t adorable, I’m just bein’ nice.  Anyways, I brought her over to Stan, and right away she snuggled up next to him.  Stan tried to change the channel a lil bit ago, but she weren’t havin’ it.”

              “That explains why he’s watching Animal Planet instead of football.”

              “Here ya go, Angie,” Fiddleford said, dumping the bag of Scrabble pieces onto the table.  “Go ahead, tell us somethin’.”  Angie cocked her head at the tiles for a few seconds, thinking.  She nodded and began to pick them up with her beak.  

              “By the way, you never told me how the conversation with your parents went, after I broke the news about the enchantment being permanent,” Ford said to Fiddleford.  

              “It went all right.  Some more scoldin’ ‘bout not recognizin’ Stan ‘n Angie, questions about the setup fer the phoenixes, and when they should visit.”

              “Uh, visit?”

              “They’re insistin’ on it.  Angie and I were tryin’ to figure things out earlier.  Maybe we should throw a belated baby shower of sorts fer Molly, on the next full moon.  That way everyone can see Stan ‘n Angie ‘n Molly in human form.”  Angie squawked.  Fiddleford and Ford looked down.  Angie took a step away from her message.

              “‘Mating season’,” Ford read out loud.  He frowned at Angie.  “What are you getting at?”  Angie huffed. She nudged a few tiles around. “‘When’.  But without an H and the W is an upside-down M.”  Angie hissed at him.

              “It got the message across, Stanford, don’t be so judgmental,” Fiddleford scolded.  “She wants to know when the next matin’ season ‘ll be.”

              “Um, I’m not sure.  The bestiary said it starts in March, but didn’t explain whether it’s an annual occurrence.  The best way to determine when mating season will be is probably by keeping an eye on Stan.” Angie cocked her head.  “He lost his extravagant tail shortly after Molly was laid.  It takes a while to grow a tail that long and ostentatious.  When his tail starts getting larger, that will indicate another mating season approaching.  His tail is still rather short, so I doubt there will be one this coming March.”  Angie nodded.  She paused for a moment, then began to move the Scrabble tiles again.

              “So, is your entire family going to visit?” Ford asked Fiddleford. Fiddleford nodded.  “How many of them know the true situation?”

              “All of ‘em.  Well, all my siblin’s and my parents.”  

              “Fantastic,” Ford muttered.  He rubbed at the scar on his hand.  “Your brothers will want me hanged, drawn, and quartered after what I put Angie and Molly through.”  Stan squawked.  “Yes, I put you through difficult things as well, Stanley.  But I think Lute would reserve most of his righteous fury for protecting his niece and younger sister.”  Stan cawed in agreement.  Angie nudged at Ford’s hand.  He looked down at her message.  “‘Molly ID’.” He frowned.  “What?”  Angie turned to Fiddleford.

              “Sorry, sis, I don’t know what yer gettin’ at, neither,” Fiddleford said. Angie rolled her eyes and moved a few more tiles.  “C…E…R…T…” Fiddleford read out loud.  “I don’t know what that means.”  Angie cawed loudly at him, frustrated.  “Angie, use the tiles.  We don’t speak bird.”  Angie looked down at her feet.  “I’m sorry. I know yer tryin’ yer best.  This can’t be easy fer ya.”

              “Here.”  Ford grabbed a handful of tiles and placed them in front of Angie.  She began to busily sort through them.  Ford and Fiddleford watched.  “B…I…R…T…H.  Birth?” Angie nodded eagerly.  “Birth cert- birth certificate?”  Angie hopped up and down.  Fiddleford chuckled.

              “Yer too dang adorable,” Fiddleford said.  Angie clacked her beak at him.  “Yer wonderin’ ‘bout Molly’s identification?  She hatched from an egg, she don’t have a birth certificate.  Or a social security number.”  Angie nudged three tiles together.  “‘Get’.  You want us to get identification for Molly?”  Angie nodded.

              “Why?” Ford asked.  Angie looked over at the tiles and huffed impatiently.  She flew away from the table.  “What’s going on?”  There was a clatter in the kitchen.  Ford began to get up, but Angie landed on the table again, a piece of paper in her beak. She dropped it in front of Fiddleford. Fiddleford frowned.

              “This is the flyer fer the open house at Tate’s preschool.”  Angie tapped the paper with one of her talons.  “Yer pointin’ at the word ‘school’?”  Angie nodded.  “…Oh.”  Fiddleford leaned back.  “You want Molly to go to school.”

              “But she’s a bird,” Ford said slowly.  Angie hissed.  “You can be angry with me if you want, that doesn’t change her species.”  Angie deflated and let out a small, defeated croak. “She can be homeschooled.  Between the four of us, she’d get an excellent education.”  Angie cooed softly.  Stan abruptly took flight from the armchair and landed next to Angie.  He nuzzled her.  A small tear traced its way down Angie’s face.  Ford looked at Fiddleford nervously.  “She’s crying.  I didn’t know she was that upset.  What- what do-”  Fiddleford reached forward and wiped the tear away.

              “Ya don’t want to homeschool Molly?” he asked gently.  Angie and Stan both shook their heads.  “Stanford’s right, y’know.  She’d learn a lot from us.”  Angie croaked.  Fiddleford sighed.  “I- I still can’t understand ya.”  Stan walked over to the Scrabble tiles and moved them around.  Angie glanced back at the armchair, where Molly was still crouched, her eyes glued to the television.  “‘Deserves better’,” Fiddleford said in a low tone, reading Stan’s message.

              “Molly deserves better than what?” Ford asked.  Stan moved a few more tiles.  “‘Bird’.  Oh. Oh, dear.”  Ford swallowed.  “Molly deserves better than to be a bird?”  Stan nodded. “You two want Molly to have more opportunities than a bird gets.”  Stan and Angie nodded silently.  “I- I don’t know how much we can control that.  So far, it seems like she’ll only be able to turn human when you do, during a full moon.  If that’s the case, I doubt she can go to school.”  Angie let out a loud, despairing screech.  Ford and Fiddleford winced at the noise.  Fiddleford stroked Angie’s back in a reassuring manner.

              “I know ya want yer baby to have a good life,” Fiddleford said.  “And we’ll do everything we can to help that happen. She’s our niece, after all.  We love her, too.  But I think- I think yer goin’ to have to accept that she might not get to do all the things ya want fer her.”  Stan croaked quietly at Angie.  She sighed and chirped a short response.  “I’m not sure what ya just said to each other.”  Angie ruffled her feathers.  “How about this?  We wait ‘fore we make any big decisions.  By the time Molly’s old enough to go to school, things might’ve changed.”  Stan and Angie nodded.  “I’m sorry that things ‘re so difficult fer-”  Stan cawed loudly.  “What?”  Stan pointed a talon at Angie’s “Molly ID” message.  “Yes, we’ll try to get some identification fer Miss Molly.”  Stan bobbed his head.  

              “I’m not sure how to go about doing that,” Ford mumbled.  Angie grabbed Ford’s wallet, which he had placed on the table. “Hey!”  She opened it and tugged a picture out with her beak.  “Angie, be careful!  That’s a picture of Tate, shortly after he was born.”  Angie cocked her head at him meaningfully.  “What?”  Angie pointed at the tiles reading “ID”, then at the picture of Tate.  “Tate’s identification?”

              “Tate’s identification wasn’t as simple as it could’ve been, since he wasn’t born in a hospital,” Fiddleford said.  “He was a home birth.”

              “You want us to claim Molly was a home birth, as well?” Ford asked.  Angie nodded.  “Oh.  That’s easy enough to do.”  Stan cawed. Angie frowned at her mate and hissed softly.  Stan merely chuckled in response.  “Wait, did Stan say something that was in poor taste?”  Angie nudged a tile with a Y on it.  “I assume that means yes.”  A loud screech began to emit from the armchair.  Stan squawked in distress and flew back to Molly.  Once she was comfortably nestled under Stan’s wing again, Molly became quiet.

              “That lil girl of yours is keepin’ ya on yer toes, huh?” Fiddleford said.  “Or should I say talons?”  Angie rolled her eyes.  “Are ya done usin’ the tiles?”  Angie sighed. She moved a few tiles around.  “‘Hard’.”  Fiddleford ran a hand through his hair.  “Yep, this is still pretty difficult.  It’s better ‘n nothin’, though.”  Angie shrugged.  “I think Ford said somethin’ the other day ‘bout workin’ on some way fer us to understand ya in bird form.  Verbally.” Angie’s eyes widened.  She chirped inquisitively at Ford.

              “I’m still in the brainstorming phase, unfortunately,” Ford said.  Angie moved some of the tiles.  “‘Watch’.  You want to watch me work?”  He waited patiently for Angie to respond.  “‘Bored’?”  Angie nodded. “I can imagine that being stuck in the nest with Molly 24/7 would be rather boring.  Particularly given that you were brooding her for so long without any outside form of intellectual stimulation.”  Stan crowed. Angie let out a burbling laugh.  “Was Stan insulting my manner of speech?” Angie nodded.

              “I don’t see why ya couldn’t sit in on some of Ford’s lab work,” Fiddleford said.  Angie ruffled her feathers eagerly.  “And maybe we can try to find some books or magazines to bring up to the attic. Somethin’ a bit more interestin’ ‘n the ropes ‘n mirrors we have up there right now.”  Angie looked at Stan and cawed.  “…I certainly hope that ya were just teasin’ Stan fer usin’ the bird toys.” Angie nodded, chuckling.  Stan squawked in dismay.

              “We recorded the three of you up until five days ago, Stanley,” Ford said.  “We know full well that you like to play with your own reflection in that mirror toy.”  Stan squawked again.

              “Aw, no need to be upset,” Fiddleford said.  “It weren’t like there was anything else fer ya to do.  It’s only worth teasin’ ya over if ya do it after gettin’ some activities what better suit humans.”  Stan was silent.  Angie sidled over to Fiddleford and chirped quietly at him, then laughed uproariously.

              “I wish I’d understood that,” Ford muttered.  “Apparently it was hilarious.”

[thelastspeecher]

NaNoWriMo ‘17 Day 18 - New Parents

Day 01   Day 02   Day 03   Day 04   Day 05   Day 06   Day 07   Day 08 Day 09   Day 10   Day 11   Day 12   Day 13   Day 14   Day 15   Day 16 Day 17   Day 18   Day 19   Day 20   Day 21   Day 22   Day 23   Day 24 Day 25   Day 26   Day 27   Day 28   Day 29   Day 30

Summary: Stan and Angie welcome their first child, or rather, chick. [Phoenix Enchantment AU] Word count: 2074

               Stan tucked an extra stick in the nest.  

               Gotta make sure this thing’s stable and warm and shit like that.  He glanced at Angie, who was brooding the egg, half-asleep.  Gotta make sure the two of ‘em are comfortable.  Angie’s tawny gold eyes opened at the sound of voices coming from the stairs.

               “It’s been a couple weeks, do you think Pele’s forgiven me yet?” Ford asked.

               “I don’t know if she’ll ever completely forgive ya,” Fiddleford replied. “But she might be a bit more willin’ to let ya take her vitals.”

               “Perhaps I can check her cloaca.”

               “No,” Fiddleford said firmly.  The two men arrived at the attic landing.  “It’s a miracle she didn’t do the same thing to the vet she did to you. Don’t know why she held back.” Fiddleford smiled warmly at Stan and Angie.  “Howdy, Mr. and Mrs. Phoenix.”

               “Mr. and Dr.,” Angie crowed.  She adjusted herself slightly.  Fiddleford frowned.  

               “Hmm.”

               “What?” Ford asked.  

               “I thought I saw somethin’ when Pele moved.  Somethin’ under her.”

               “Something under her?  Like an egg?” Ford asked eagerly.  Fiddleford shrugged.

               “Might be.”

               “I’ll look into it.”  Ford made a beeline for the nest.  He reached out to pick Angie up.  She hissed at him.  “Maybe you should grab her.  She likes you more.”

               “Sure.”  Fiddleford walked over and reached forward.  Angie eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t make any threatening noises. “It’s okay, honey.”  He picked her up.  His eyes went wide.  “Goodness, would ya look at that.”

               “I’ve never seen an egg like this,” Ford remarked.  “And now we have an explanation for her odd behavior.” Ford reached for the egg.  Angie let out a screech.

               “Ford, don’t,” Fiddleford said.  

               “I need to-”

               “Ya still haven’t recovered from Pele bitin’ ya.  Do ya want to reopen yer stitches?” Fiddleford asked.  Stan snapped at Ford’s hand.  Ford removed his hand from the nest.  Growing increasingly agitated, Angie nipped at Fiddleford’s fingers. “Oh, okay, sweetie, down ya go.” He carefully set her in the nest again. “Sorry ‘bout that, hon,” Fiddleford said, stroking her.  Angie burbled apologetically.

               “Sorry, Fidds, I don’t know what came over me.”

               “Why did you put her down?  I wanted to examine the egg,” Ford protested.  Stan hissed, his feathered crest rising.  

               “Stanford, Pele just laid it.  Both of ‘em are goin’ to be on edge fer a while.  It’s a miracle Pele didn’t draw any blood tellin’ me off.  She held back, and so did Prometheus.  Next time, it won’t be a mere warnin’.”  Ford sighed.

               “Very well.  Perhaps in a few days, they’ll have calmed down enough to let me examine their progeny.” Stan let out another sinister hiss.

               “Don’t count on it, Sixer.”

----- 

               “Hmm?”  Angie was woken by movement under her.  She blinked blearily, decided to dismiss it, and closed her eyes again.  The sensation of something rocking grew stronger.

               What is that?  I’m not sittin’ on anythi- the egg!  Angie abruptly stepped to the side, accidentally elbowing Stan close to the nest’s edge.

               “Angie, it won’t be sunrise for like, three hours, what’s the deal?” Stan croaked, waking up.  

               “The egg,” Angie chirped.  “It’s- it’s-”  Stan looked over.  His mouth dropped open.

               “Holy Moses, is it hatching?”

               “Looks like,” Angie whispered.  She and Stan watched with bated breath as the egg rocked back and forth viciously.  As suddenly as the movement had started, it stopped, and a small crack appeared in the shell.  “Oh Lord, oh Lord,” Angie whimpered.  The crack grew wider.  A small, fuzzy head poked its way out of the egg.  “Goodness.”

               “We’re- we’re-” Stan stammered as the chick struggled free from its egg.  “We’re parents.”  The chick turned in a small circle before catching sight of its parents, huddled together in shock.  Stan and Angie stared silently at their child, unsure of what to do.  The chick let out a soft chirp.

               “Oh my Lord, she’s beautiful!” Angie screeched.  She walked over to the chick and nuzzled its head.  “Stanley, look at her!”

               “I’m lookin’,” Stan said.  He joined Angie.  “You’re right.  She’s the most gorgeous kid in the world.”

               “Clearly,” Angie crooned.  

               “Wait, how do we know it’s a she?” Stan asked, cocking his head.  Angie blinked.

               “I’m not sure.  I just know.”

               “Same here.”  Stan stared at his daughter.  “We decided on Molly for a girl, right?”

               “Yeah.”

               “All right, kid, here’s the deal,” Stan cawed.  The chick looked up at him with big, tawny gold eyes.  “Your Uncle Ford is gonna call you Pinatubo.  That’s not your name.  Your name is Molly.”  Molly blinked slowly.  “Oh yeah, and Fiddleford and Stanford are your uncles.  They’re humans, but you aren’t.  It’s weird.”  Molly let out tiny chirp.  “Good.  Glad you’re on board.”

               “Her feathers,” Angie whispered. “She clearly gets her pretty plumage from you, Stan.”

               “She’s got your eyes,” Stan replied.  Molly opened her mouth.  “What’s she doin’?”

               “I’m not- oh.  She must be hungry,” Angie said.  She looked over at the food stand. “Shoot, we’re all out!  Fidds refills the dishes in the mornin’!”

               “Think you can wait until then?” Stan asked Molly. She closed her mouth, looking disappointed.  “Yeah, it sucks, but we’ll get you some-” Molly abruptly opened her mouth again and began to emit a loud screech.  “Ah, fuck!” Stan yelped.  He stumbled back in shock and careened over the edge of the nest.  

               “Stan!” Angie squawked.  

               “I’m fine,” Stan cawed at her. He shook his head.  “A bit dizzy, but I’m fine.”

               “We need to get this baby some food.”

               “Agreed.”  Stan ruffled his feathers, preparing to take flight.  “I’ll go grab somethin’ from the kitchen.  One of the nerds had to have left some fruit on the counter, right?”  Doors slammed from downstairs.  “Never mind, we can just get the nerds to get the food.”

               “Come back up here,” Angie said.  Stan took off and landed in the nest.  

               “Molly, it’s okay,” Stan said desperately.  Molly paused her screech for a moment to breathe, then started again.  “She’s never gonna shut up!”  Footsteps raced up the stairs.  Fiddleford and Ford arrived at the attic landing, disheveled and in their pajamas.

               “What on Earth is goin’ on up here?” Fiddleford demanded.

               “Hey, we’re not pleased about the kid screamin’, either!” Stan squawked.  

               “Fiddleford!  The egg!” Ford said, grabbing Fiddleford’s arm.  “It hatched!”

               “Goodness!” Fiddleford gasped.  “The lil chickee must be hungry.”

               “No shit, Sherlock!” Stan screeched.

               “I’ll get some food,” Fiddleford said, already running downstairs.  Ford stared at the phoenixes.  

               “Pinatubo hatched,” Ford whispered, his eyes wide.  A broad smile appeared on his face.  “Pinatubo hatched!”

               “Great, just what we need,” Stan grumbled.  “Ford getting all emotional.  He doesn’t even know she’s his niece!”

               “I think it’s nice,” Angie said. She winced as Molly’s screech increased in volume.  “But I agree, it’s not what we need right now.”

               “I’m back, I’m back!” Fiddleford said, coming up the stairs again.  He rushed over to the nest and deposited some banana slices, dead crickets, and walnuts in front of Molly.  Molly stopped screeching for a moment.  She knelt and looked at one of the crickets, then nudged it towards Angie.  

               “Why didn’t she eat it?” Stan whispered.  Angie grimaced.

               “Stan, I- I think we have to feed it to her.”

               “Okay.  Then what’s with the wigged-out expression?”

               “Ya know how some birds feed their young, right?” Angie said.  Stan stared at her for a moment.  “Darlin’, I- I think phoenix chicks feed from their parents regurgitatin’ things.”

               “Oh, come on!” Stan screeched. “Why is bein’ a bird so gross?”  Clearly getting frustrated, Molly began to screech again.  Stan and Angie winced.  “Fine!  Fine, kid, we’ll do that!  Anything to get you to shut your yap.”  Stan turned to Fiddleford and hissed.  “Scram!”

               “I think they want some privacy,” Fiddleford said to Ford.  

               “But-” Ford started.

               “Pinatubo will still be there in the mornin’.  We should go check on Tate, see if he got woken up by the noise.”

----- 

               Angie hummed softly to Molly as she preened her daughter’s downy feathers.

               “Baby girl, I can’t believe yer already a month old,” Angie chirped.  “Seems like yesterday that I laid ya.”

               “Yeah, well, you know what they say,” Stan squawked from the toy stand.  “Time flies when you’re trapped as a bird.”  He viciously grabbed at one of the toys, a dangling knotted rope, with his beak.  “It’s about time they gave us somethin’ to do up here,” he said in between attacks. Angie chuckled.

               “I think I like watchin’ ya mess with the mirror most.”

               “That one’s pretty entertaining,” Stan agreed.  “When we’re back to human, don’t tell Ford I played with it though, okay?”

               “If that ever happens,” Angie sighed.  Molly chirped at her curiously.  “Oh honey, I wish I could see what you look like as a human baby.”

               “I already know,” Stan said.  “Cuter ‘n hell.”

               “That goes without sayin’,” Angie said.  She and Stan looked over at the stairs, upon hearing footsteps.  Fiddleford walked into the attic with a large animal carrier. “Oh, joy of joys,” Angie said flatly.  “What is it this time?”

               “Pele, mind comin’ over here?” Fiddleford said.  Angie clacked her beak.  “Okay, I’ll sweeten the pot.”  Fiddleford opened the carrier and set a handful of peach slices inside.  Angie’s eyes widened.

               “Holy shit, he really wants you to get in,” Stan said.  “They never use that much food to bribe us.”

               “All right, I’m curious enough to do what ya want,” Angie chirped.  She nuzzled Molly one last time, then took flight and landed inside the carrier.

               “Any luck?” Ford called from downstairs.

               “Got Pele,” Fiddleford shouted back.  “So, we’re halfway done.  Get up here so’s we can finish.”

               “Look, I don’t care what you offer,” Stan hissed.  “I’m not gonna leave Molly alone.”  Ford walked upstairs.

               “Ready?” Fiddleford asked him.  “We’ll have to move fast fer this to work.”  Ford nodded silently.

               “What’s goin’ on?” Angie cawed. Fiddleford closed the carrier’s door. “Hey!”  Fiddleford marched over to Stan.  Stan eyed him.

               “Howdy there, Prometheus.  Yer quite the protective dad,” Fiddleford said.  Stan frowned at him.

               “What’s your angle?” Stan asked.

               “Stanley, Ford’s takin’ Molly!” Angie screeched.

               “What?!” Stan shouted. Before he could move, Fiddleford grabbed him firmly.  “Lemme go, Fiddleford!  Your boyfriend, my twin brother, is stealing my kid!”  Stan writhed in Fiddleford’s grip, but couldn’t break free.  “Fine!  You wanna play dirty?  I’ll play dirty!”  Stan snapped at Fiddleford’s hands.  Despite the thick leather gloves he was wearing, Fiddleford winced in pain, but didn’t let go.

               “I know yer not happy, but we need to take lil Pinatubo in fer a checkup,” Fiddleford said calmly.  Stan’s eyes widened.

               “You’re taking her to the vet? Bastards!  She doesn’t deserve to be treated like a damn animal!”

               “Look, we’re doin’ what we can to keep everyone calm and happy,” Fiddleford said.  “Pele’s goin’ to come with, so lil Pinatubo’s not alone.”  Stan could hear the carrier’s door open and close quickly.  

               “Ouch!” Ford yelped.  “Dammit, Pele!  I was giving you your chick back!”

               “You manhandled my baby!” Angie screeched.  “Yer takin’ her to a veterinarian!”

               “Stanford, go load up in the car,” Fiddleford instructed.  “We can’t have Prometheus flyin’ after us.”  Still trapped by Fiddleford, Stan couldn’t see Ford leave, but he could hear Angie’s screeches of protest getting quieter, and Ford’s hurried footsteps fading.  Downstairs, a door opened and closed.  

               They’re gone.  Stan drooped.  

               “Hush, it’s okay,” Fiddleford said soothingly.  He stroked Stan’s back.  Stan let out a sad croak.  Fiddleford carefully set Stan down in the nest, then immediately bolted down the stairs. Stan screeched angrily and flew after him as fast as he could.  However, he was still a split second too late; Fiddleford beat him to the door and closed it before Stan could escape.  Stan let out another furious screech.

               “Assholes!”  Stan landed on the floor, deciding to walk back to the attic.

               And if I make a mess on the way, so be it.  Stan ruffled his feathers angrily.  If they knew who we really were, they wouldn’t pull this shit.  If only I could tell them.  He looked down at the hardwood floor.  There were some scratches in wood, from when a possessed badger got loose a few months ago.  Hmm…  He experimentally dragged his beak down the hall, leaving a long, jagged mark.  Stan crowed triumphantly.  Fuckin’ finally!  It’s time to let ‘em know they’ve been treating their relatives like birds for months.

[thelastspeecher]

114, phoenix Stan.

114. “No more dogs.  How hard is it to understand?”

Some background for folks: After Stan and Angie’s second egg is laid in the Phoenix Enchantment AU, Ford and Fiddleford revamp the attic, turning it into a proper aviary for the growing phoenix flock.  Also, during Stan and Angie’s second mating season, they end up with two eggs; the second one was conceived after the first one was laid.  A last hurrah from the infamous McGucket fertility.

Send me a number and characters and I’ll write a drabble!

               Ford stared at the wreckedaviary.  A stand had been knocked over,the nest was tilting dangerous, and Molly was perched in the rafters, herfeathers still puffed up in distress.

               “Geez, Ford, are you gonna juststand there and do nothin’?” Stan grumbled, shoving past Ford in humanform.  He fixed the nest, muttering underhis breath.  “You got the eggs, Ang?”

               “Yes.”  Angie, also in human form, walked pastFord.  She carefully placed the eggs inthe nest and kissed them both.  In aflash of light, she was in phoenix form again, nestling herself on top of herunhatched children.  Angie chirped atStan.

               “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,”Stan said, stroking Angie’s head.  Helooked up at Molly.  “Rooster, it’s allclear!  Come snuggle your mama,okay?”  There was a fluttering as Mollylanded in the nest with Angie.  Angiecooed at her daughter in a reassuring manner. Stan turned his attention to Ford. “Stanford.  We talked about thislast time.  No more dogs.  How hard is it to understand?”

               “It wasn’t a dog this time,”Ford corrected.  “It was awerewolf.”  Stan rubbed his eyes.

               “No wolves, either!  Sixer, this should be common sense!  That wolf went right after the nest when itgot up here.  The eggs almost… your ownnieces or nephews could have been killed!” Angie let out a distressed squawk. “Yeah, it scared me, too, babe. Ford, it’s a good thing it’s a full moon.  Otherwise, Angie and I couldn’t have turnedhuman and rescued ‘em.”

               “If it wasn’t a full moon, therewouldn’t be a werewolf here in the first place,” Ford said.

               “That’s not the point!” Stanshouted.  He sighed.  “Ford, I- I know that you sorta get how the eggs are yourrelatives, but- you don’t really understand. Maybe it has somethin’ to do with how long it took for you to find outwho we really were.”  Stan looked back atthe nest.  “But those eggs that Angie’stakin’ care of, they’re my kids.  Thefirst one’s gonna hatch in a couple days, and Molly’s gonna get a youngersister or brother.”

               “I’m well aware of that,” Fordsaid shortly.  “Both the egg’s closehatch date and my relation to your children.”

               “Yeah, but if Angie was pregnantand got hurt, you’d be a lot more upset than you are right now,” Stan finallysnapped.  Ford stiffened.  He abruptly turned around and walkeddownstairs.  “Ford?  Hey, we’re not done!” Stan said, followinghis twin.  At the base of the stairs, hegrabbed Ford’s shoulder.  “I mean it, Ineed to-”

               “I know, Stanley!” Fordsnarled.  Stan took a step back,unnerved.  “I know that your childrenwere almost killed today because of me. All the tragedy that has befallen you and Angie, it all goes back tome.”

               “Wha- hey, take it easy, man,”Stan said quietly.  “I’m not blaming youfor everything.  I mean, your shit isonly like, 1% of our problems.  The restare from being chosen to be fuckin’ birds by some sorta weird enchantment.”

               “And why did you come to GravityFalls in the first place, when you were transformed?”

               “To visit you and Fidds.”

               “Exactly.  And I’m the reason Fiddleford and myselfmoved to Gravity Falls.  Ergo, if itwasn’t for me, you and Angie wouldn’t go through mating season, and- and yourwife wouldn’t be stuck laying an egg every five years.  You and Angie could be humans, living happilyin San Diego, with careers and welcoming children to the world in a drasticallydifferent way.”

               “Ford.”

               “I’m the cause of your new avianlifestyle.”

               “Don’t do this.  Don’t play the blame game like this,Stanford.  Shit happens, y’know?  It’s not your fault that Angie and I gotturned into magical birds.  Sometimes youget dealt a bad hand.”

               “I made things worse, though,”Ford whispered.  Stan sighed.  “The vet, the-”

               “If we’re gonna talk about thevet, we have get drinks,” Stan said firmly. Ford didn’t respond.  “Comeon.”  Stan took Ford by the shoulders andguided him to the kitchen table.  Fordtook a seat, his head in his hands.  Stantook a seat as well.  He waited patientlyfor Ford to speak.

               “I should have known,” Ford saidfinally.

               “Known what?”

               “That it was you and Angie.”

               “That was five years ago.  Why the hell are you torn up about it now?”Stan asked.  

               “Tate’s been-”  Ford stopped. He clasped his hands and took a breath. “He’s started insisting on seeing you, Angie, and Molly.  And the eggs. Fiddleford and I can only do so much; Tate is going to start sneaking upthere soon, despite our instructions.”

               “Start?” Stan said.  He snorted. “He’s been sneakin’ up to see us for months.”  Ford gaped.

               “Why didn’t you tell me?” Fordasked.  He rubbed his forehead.  “We’ll have to take disciplinary action,then.  He’s normally so well-behaved.”

               “Ford, he wants to see the coolbirds that live in the attic,” Stan said breezily.  “It’s no big deal.”

               “You might change your tune whenyou hear some of the things he’s been asking,” Ford muttered.  Stan frowned. “He wants to trim talons and wings, he wants to teach tricks and- and hewants to name the next chick.”

               “Oh.  I get it.” Stan leaned back in his chair. “Tate’s decided we’re his pets, and it reminded you of how you treatedyour own damn twin like he was your pet bird.”

               “I…”  Stan raised an eyebrow at Ford.  Ford sighed. “In a way, I suppose that couldbe accurate.  I remember doing some ofthe things Tate wants to do.  I shouldnot have done them.”

               “No shit.  But you apologized.”

               “Not enough.”

               “You pour a helluva lotta moneyinto maintaining the aviary, keeping my family fed and happy.  You give us a roof over our heads.  You and Fiddleford have more than made up for pullin’ that crap years ago.”  Stan shrugged.  “And if you still feel like it’s not enough,I mean, we kinda owe you, for sendin’ you to the hospital so many times.”  Ford subconsciously rubbed the rough scar onhis left hand, a reminder of what phoenix beaks were capable of.

               “Perhaps.”

               “Honestly, Ford, don’t botherapologizing.  It’s been so damn long, andAngie and I just wanna forget it happened.”

               “I feel the same way,” Ford saidquietly.

               “Good.  Then drop it. You don’t owe us anything, okay? Just try to, y’know, not let wild animals into the attic any more.  Who knows what Angie ‘ll do if it happensagain.”

               “Fiddleford told me not to bringthe werewolf home.”

               “Listen to him sometimes.”

               “Should I listen to him when heinsists on keeping the truth from Tate?” Ford asked.  Stan got up with a sigh.

               “You know how Angie and I feelabout it.  We think it’s pointless to lieto Tate.  But he’s your kid, Sixer.  You and Fidds have to figure it out on yourown.  My daughter’s a bird most of thetime, anyways.  I don’t know what to dowith human children.”  There was a loudscreech from upstairs.  “Geez, Angie’s stillpissed at you.”

               “What did she say?”

               “That you’re not allowed upthere for a couple days.  Somethin’ aboutgiving you a matching scar on the other hand if you put her babies in dangeragain.”  Stan shrugged.  “Same old, same old.”