#geese respect me

[vampirebatrat]

I am neutral about Canada geese

Normal bird, there are lots of them. They leave shit in my yard and everywhere I walk but it’s just grass so it doesn’t matter to me. I chase them around and they never fight back because they know I’m the master of all birds. I’m kind of goated at commanding birds. Cackling geese are somewhat annoying to me though because they are hard to distinguish from their (better) predecessors.

[muffinlance]

Toddler got a set of dinosaur toys for Christmas, and promptly put them in his barn with the cows and the horses. DELIGHTED by Toddler's organizational system. And by the two pterodactyls he carefully roosts on the roof.

[angelmush]

i got a goose tattooed on the inside of my forearm today and it was a flash piece but it's my favorite tattoo already it means everything to me i could sob

[apotelesmaa]

My fave thing about the WxS dynamic is that emu/rui/miku are always like tsukasaaaa it’s 3pm it’s time to make you do incredibly dangerous and life threatening stunts!!! & tsukasa is just like ok 😔 into the cannon I go 😔 while nene (arguably the most normal and sane person in WxS who could easily put a stop to this) is like yeah see you later idiot. Bye. (Not looking up from whatever game she’s playing)

[necropsittacus]

hot take: probably 80% of what i hear about geese being "evil" or extremely aggressive is like...objectively that is a you problem

[creaturefeaster]

What's your dream job?🔮

I'd love to work somewhere in the field of animal biology, or just animal study/care in general. I have an interest in the processes & functionality of animal bodies that people don't fully understand yet, as well as their psychology.

It is one of my favorite things, to study an animal so closely that you begin to understand everything about it's life and why they live it they way that they do.

[dateko]

a/n: another rando drabble... twas hiding amidst the dust in my drafts... i will never get to see the four of these silly geese happy ever again and they only exist in my google docs where nothing bad ever happens to them...

“Sensei, what is Sensei to you?” Yuuji asks suddenly, causing Gojo to stop in his tracks.

“Huh? Me?”

This time, Nobara groans. “No, you blindfolded idiot! That Sensei!” 

Gojo follows his young student’s gaze as she tilts her chin towards the field where the second-years are training. 

There, standing beside the ever-adorable Panda, is you. You watch with a proud smile on your face as the second years spar with one another, calling out praises along with death threats coming from Maki. It doesn’t take long for you to notice the first years and their slender mentor watching you from the steps. Your lips fight to bite down a smile as you throw out a wave, watching Satoru lift his mask to wink at you.

“See! See! Like that!” Nobara starts again excitedly, pointing at her teacher. “What is that woman to you?”

“Eh?” Gojo raises an eyebrow before lowering his mask. “She’s… A close friend of mine.”

“Sensei, you’re being secretive.” Yuuji offers him a skeptical look, to which Nobara nods along with adamantly. “Fushiguro, what do you think?”

Megumi glances at your figure with a dragging sigh before walking in front of his classmates. “If you ask me, she’s the one.”

Thing 1 and Thing 2 erupt with rowdy exclamations, practically bouncing off their teacher. Megumi continues to walk with a somewhat satisfied expression. The boy’s known you his entire life. Especially how much you mean to his blue-eyed benefactor. 

“B-but how do you know she’s really the one?” Yuuji asks this time, fully invested in his teacher’s love life.

Gojo shrugs nonchalantly. “I have good eyes, you know.”

“Well, now I just feel sorry for her. She has to deal with you every day!” Nobara deflates immediately, unsure of how to feel knowing someone she respects is romantically affiliated with her headache-inducing instructor.

“Hey! It’s a blessing to deal with me!” 

A pair of footsteps sneak up behind the group. “Deal with who?”

With a hand on your hip, you stop to tilt your head at the pairs of wide eyes looking at you. Even beneath his mask, you can tell Satoru looks more than guilty. 

“Something on my face?” You pat a hand on your cheek, wondering why no one’s said anything to you. 

Nobara breaks the silence by walking up to you with her head down, a downcast expression on her face. “Sensei… I’m so sorry for you…”

Confused and admittedly very concerned, you shoot Gojo a look before patting Nobara’s head reassuringly. And your lover holds a sheepish expression as he holds his hands clasped behind his back, an old habit he used to do when he knew he was in the wrong. 

“Alright, I might as well just say it,” Gojo starts, fixing the collar of his jacket. “I told them about us.”

Your eye widen at his words, lips sputtering for a normal response. “You told them we’re married?”

“Wait, married?! Meeting each other with good feelings is one thing, but married… Sensei, I thought you were better than this…" Nobara shakes her head dramatically before walking off, flashing you a disapproving look before dragging Yuuji along with her.

You watch the younger student walk off with a confused brow before returning to face your lover, who is grinning wildly at you. He's clearly over feeling guilty about exposing your little secret. Your questionable silence comes to Gojo as a queue to pull you into a loving embrace, a quiet apology for blowing your cover.

Without skipping a beat, you return the hug, giving up on trying to scold him. You squeak when Gojo rocks the two of you back and forth, pressing never-ending kisses on your jaw. “Just an FYI, Megumi was the one who told them.” He mutters, nose pressing itself into the crook of your neck.

You gasp, holding his face while you step back to look at him. “He wouldn’t do such a thing!”

“He said that you were the one.”

“Isn’t that what you said?”

“Shut up.”

You let out a giggle, a sound Gojo could listen to for hours on repeat. “You used to be so corny when we dated. Still now.”

“I don't think I could ever stop being corny. Only when it comes to you.”

[imimprisoned]

Aphrodite: Goddess of Passion, Love, Sex, Beauty, Pleasure and Procreation.

Offerings include:

rose water,

rose/ocean scented candles or incense,

rose petals,

seashells,

perfumes,

jewelry you consider beautiful,

honey,

rose tea,

fruits like apples ( golden colored apples )

figs,

pomegranates,

crystals/gemstones such as quartz, rose quartz ( specifically ) and emeralds,

chocolates,

naturally shed dove/swan/geese feathers,

herbs like basil and majoram,

sand,

poems about Her, love, or any other poem you have written.

Prayers to Aphrodite

1. I come to you by candlelight, I bring a humble gift this night,

View my soul and weigh my truth, I love, respect, and honor you.

May this gift be well recieved,

By Love's goddess,

Lady of the seas.

2. Lady Aphrodite,

Beloved Goddess of all the world's beauty, of love in all forms,

and of purest desire,

may you continue to guide me

towards acceptance and love,

for myself and for others,

for now and for good.

May we flourish forever

with beauty and grace.

my Beloved Aphrodite

with love in your heart,

may you continue to guide me,

til death do us part.

3. Prayer to Aphrodite to Bring Love into One's Life

Tender-hearted Aphrodite, friend of the lonely, friend of those who seek a lover, a companion for life, a mate to share their sorrows and delights;

Aphrodite, you touch the center of the soul, you light the flame of passion in men and women, you hold our hearts in your gentle hands. Goddess, fair one, kind one, giver of the most precious gifts, open my spirit to joy and gladness, open my mind to possibility, open my heart to love. Heal me of hurt, release me from fear; grant me the innocence of first love that I may see the world in all its promise and beauty; grant me the wisdom of experience that I may choose with sense and judgment. May my eyes be keen, may my vision be true, may I see what is more clearly than what may be. Aphrodite, I pray to you, goddess, grant me your gift of love.

4. May Aphrodite bring love to you, and may you feel that love.

[erebus0dora]

ok ignore this in case it’s too dad joke material, but the bird art thing @ bsky made me remember why my, ehhh, coat of arms looks the way it looks. so, ladies, lads, and everyone at any point of the spectrum that is not described by these words - behold.

(sneaking an illustration in just because that’s BIG MOOD tbh)

🕊️THE TALE OF THE CROW

Once upon a time, a flock of geese was preparing to migrate for it’s a seasonal thing for geese. A young crow came up to them and asked to join the flock (for linguistic reasons, in this story the crow is she/her). “Crow, with all due respect”, said the geese. “We NATURALLY migrate, we are EQUIPPED for that, do you really think you can keep up?”

“I am strong”, said the crow, “I am brave, I’ll manage.”

And so they took off and started their journey. They faced a wild woodland; “U still on board?” the geese asked. Quoth the crow, “I am strong, I am brave, I’ll manage!” They faced a wide river and checked with the crow again; her answer remained the same. After a week of their journey and the crow repeating, “I’m strong, I’m brave, I’ll manage” like a mantra, they arrived at a sea...

“Look, crow”, said the geese. “We can swim and we can rest upon water. You clearly can’t. You would have to cross the sea in one go or die. Are you POSITIVE you still wish to go on?”

“I am strong, I am brave, I’ll manage” was the answer.

So they flew. And flew. And flew into a storm. It was a wild thunderstorm that at some point quite literally blew the crow away, and she disappeared into the waves. The geese passed the storm through, arrived at the shore that was their destination, but the mood was sour. “Hey”, one goose said, “we kinda mocked her about her being different and naive and unequipped for the journey, but let’s face it: she WAS strong. She WAS brave. She almost managed, come to think of it!”

And before anyone could say anything, they noticed a tiny black dot on the horizon. It grew, and grew, and it soon became clear it was the crow, soggy, battered, barely moving her wings. She reached the shore, collapsed beak down onto the sand and just wheezed. “Wow”, said the geese, “forget what we’ve said about being unequipped for the journey, crow! You’re amazing, you actually did it!”

The crow unstuck her beak from the sand and croaked, “Yeahh, I AM strong… I AM brave… but I aM SO! FUCKED!! IN THE HEAD!!!”

Now please take a look at my userpic.

‘Forta’ is Latin for ‘strong’.

‘Animosa’ is Latin for ‘brave’.

‘Rabida’ is not an exact translation, but I am sure you get it.

[dnickels]

John Irving Poem Playlist

I love the hype around Davechella and wanted to do something a little different- a mixtape of poems, with commentary (desperate self-justification) and bonus poems below the cut

I.

The Lamb, William Blake

The Pilgrim, Sophie Jewett

Self-Dependence, Matthew Arnold

The Light of Stars, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Wanderer, Unknown, trans. Roy M. Liuzza

Up-Hill, Christina Rosetti

Sir Galahad, Alfred Tennyson

II.

They Could Not Tell Me Who Should Be My Lord, Edwin Muir

God gave a Loaf to every Bird, Emily Dickinson

Ancient Text, Louise Glück

I Find no Peace, Thomas Wyatt

A Secret Told, Emily Dickinson

Mary Magdalen, James Elroy Flecker

Because I Liked You Better, AE Housman

III.

A Better Resurrection, Christina Rossetti

The Temptation of Saint Anthony, Rainer Maria Rilke, trans. Leonard Cottrell OR trans. Len Krisak

Batter my heart, three-personed God, John Donne

At Least to Pray, Is Left, Is Left, Emily Dickinson

'Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend", Gerard Manley Hopkins

The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, (LXXXIV- LXXXVI) trans. Edward FitzGerald

I Shall Know why- when Time is over, Emily Dickinson

IV.

Sudden Hymn in Winter, Joseph Fasano

Fable and Decade, Louise Glück

Love (III), George Herbert

Of Molluscs, Mary Sarton

Dark Night of Soul, Juan de la Cruz, trans. E Allison Peers

He Touched Me, So I Live to Know, Emily Dickinson

The Finder Found, Edwin Muir

V.

The Plate, Anthony Hecht

Prospice, Robert Browning

Pietà, Rainer Maria Rilke, trans. Jessie Lemont

DEATH THE COPPERPLATE PRINTER, Anthony Hecht

The Gold Lily, Louise Glück

Futility, Wilfred Owen

Flock, Billy Collins

"What, no Wild Geese?" spiritually Wild Geese is here, tucked in section IV, which might a well be subtitled "The soft animal gets a treat", same with Song of Songs and so many psalms I couldn't pick one. I wanted to try to play with poems that were either new to me or a little further off the beaten track (although there are still some obvious picks but come on was I not going to get some Donne in there?). Frankly, this entire list could have been Emily Dickinson start to finish, it's not yet accepted historical fact that she was an inexplicable psychic witness to the sufferings of the Franklin Expedition but I am submitting my findings to journals as we speak

(sorry Jirv for all the Catholics and extremely suspect Anglicans!!)

I. SEEKING

Whenever I invoke "The Lamb" please know I am reading it with the same menace and sense of foreboding as Patti Smith. Given the vibe I'm trying to cultivate you'd think there would be more Blake, but I think Jirv has such a profoundly different experience with Church Authority and his own conversion experience that he and Blake hardly seem like they share the same faith. Even in a scenario where he managed to unclench, I can't see him espousing a sentiment like The Garden of Love. Maybe if he survived to reflect on his encounter with Koveyook he might groove more with "[Christ] is the only God ... and so am I and so are you."

The only section that has at least a few poets I think Jirv would actually read, namely Matthew Arnold-- the only poem on here that I think isn't very good, I'm sorry to Mr. Arnold but there we are, they were right to light your ass up in Punch. He's here however because I think his work captures a very clear and immediately accessible sense of the early Victorian man striving to be himself, in the sense that he can flower fully into the model of upstanding sober bourgeois middle-class manhood which isn't always attainable for later birth-order sons in a navy overcrowded with officers. The real life Irving's letters touched me very much in that he is both looking for a deeper connection with God, a better version for himself, and in the material world, a way to make enough money to establish himself as capital-R Respectable in a way that swashbuckling at sea or derring-do in the colonies doesn't really allow him. I actually don't know if the years line up for him to have read Longfellow but this stanza:

O fear not in a world like this, And thou shalt know erelong, Know how sublime a thing it is  To suffer and be strong.

Is such a classic mid 19th century "making yourself miserable for ideological reasons" motto. Shades of "Invictus" (which for some reason I don't know if Jirv would vibe with, maybe more of a Crozier poem).

I think you could also call the first section "Voyages", I was struck by how often the real Irving was compelled to relocated to try and make a place for himself in the world in the literal, material sense, and the few letters we have are largely his thoughts on his spiritual seeking-- I was very surprised not to find a settled and secured ticket-to-Heaven holder but someone who still considers himself a student, is still wrestling and grasping and looking for something.

Prithee, Pilgrim, go not hence; Clear thy brow, and white thy hand, What shouldst thou with penitence? Wherefore seek to Holy Land? Stern the whisper on his lip: Sin and shame are in my scrip.

It feels a little much to say 'Jirv is the Galahad of their doomed Grail quest' but frankly, given that no one succeeds, I kind of like the idea of a failed Galahad. It's slightly ahistorical to invoke but once we get into the 1860s and the mid-Victorian chivalric revival Galahad becomes a potent symbol for a kind of chaste imperial knighthood in service to God/Queen/Country. At least one young office who died in WWI was named Galahad, not just a PG Wodehouse joke christening.

II. CRISIS

Obviously there are ten thousand things that could torment the evangelical protestant mind and bedevil one's self-worth and it doesn't have to be "hopelessly in love with your best friend" but I wasn't going to miss a chance for some Housman, was i? Wyatt gives us the money couplet:

I desire to perish, and yet I ask health. I love another, and thus I hate myself.

I had included Flecker's We That Were Friends but felt it was just slightly too self-aware, ditto Rosetti's Winter: My Secret.

III. STRIFE

I think these are all pretty self-explanatory. I could have added ten more Emily Dickinson poems because she is the only one on this earth who gets it (me, the deal, the whole of existence). Hopkins I think is more concerned with the sins of the world than the real life Irving (who, based on the very limited material shared, must be the most laid-back and chill evangelical in human history? Or maybe I spent too long among the Baptists) but I can see Jirv wondering, in the God-proof bunker of his diary, why the wicked are flourishing while he is losing his everloving mind and threatening to lock up ABs for being afraid of ghosts.

Here is the excerpted Khayyam so you don't have to go looking (although you should because its wall to wall bangers) (context: the narrator is standing in a potter's shed, and listening to the vessels talk amongst themselves)

LXXXIV. Said one among them— "Surely not in vain My substance of the common Earth was ta'en And to this Figure molded, to be broke, Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again." LXXXV. Then said a Second—"Ne'er a peevish Boy Would break the Bowl from which he drank in joy; And He that with his hand the Vessel made Will surely not in after Wrath destroy." LXXXVI. After a momentary silence spake Some Vessel of a more ungainly Make; "They sneer at me for leaning all awry: What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"

"Did you make me just to smash me, God?"

Runners-up for this section included Rossetti's The Three Enemies, which only didn't make the cut because I think its slightly uneven compared to the rest of this work and this list has become pretty Rossetti-heavy. Ditto De Profundis.

IV. ACCEPTANCE

Also pretty self-explanatory. Mystical union with Christ or a very special sergeant of the marines, or both! Is it canon? No! But I like to think that even just one time...

If you read any poem on this list please read 'Love (III)' and 'The Finder Found', the latter of which is my 'Wild Geese'. It seems self-serving to say I cried when I read it but I did. Meanwhile Herbert is goated and his entire work could be listed here but hearing Love (III) read aloud made me understand what poems could do.

I cheated putting two Glück poems for one but given that they were published together in that magazine I think its ok. Here's even more cheating: The Undertaking would be in there if I could squeeze it on the same line. "The darkness lifts, imagine, in your lifetime" PLEASE

Runners-up here were Larkin's First Sight, which just doesn't quite fit but I love for the sense of spring coming to someone who doesn't know there's anything other than winter deprivation, and A Shropshire Lad XI (On your midnight pallet lying) which I LOVE but again doesn't quite jive with the theme, but I do imagine it as a bridge poem between this section and the last...

V. DOOM

A little bit of Browning, who might squeak in under the line of plausibility (though perhaps not this poem) as Jirv sets out on the death march with waning faith that is not, in fact, a death march but then his journey ends in Stabtown, population: YOU. "The Plate" in this case would be that faith and knowledge of being loved that remains even after hardship and the final lost battle, maybe even literally in the meat from his stomach. But misery and death put all the men on the rack and instead of salvation they are essentially tortured to death, often long enough to crush/squeeze out any semblance of humanity and leaving the animal capacity for violence.

"Futility" could encompass the whole sorry venture but in specific the shot of Jirv's body after all the effort to make contact with someone would could help. Was it for this? "Exposure" also a strong contender for "the long slow process of freezing to death for unclear reasons".

"Flock" of course-- God needs martyrs.

[in1-nutshell]

Can the tfa bots and elite guard react to a female bot who has the personality and appearance of fluttershy from my little pony who was bring to life by an allspark fragment

Okay, its been a hot second since I've seen My Little Pony, but worth it! Buddy is here with their animal friends ready to meet Team Prime and the Elite Guard.

Hope you enjoy!

Team Prime and the Elite guard reacting to a Fluttershy Bot Buddy that was brought to life by a fragment of the Allspark

SFW, platonic, Cybertronain/ Bot reader

TFA

Buddy’s alt-mode is golf cart. It was Team Prime who found Buddy. Well, more like Prowl and Sari who found them. Buddy was talking to the geese in the lake. Prowl was the first to make his and Sari’s presence known. Buddy shyly introduced themselves and asked if the two of them knew anything about the geese. Later the rest of Team Prime comes in to meet the new bot. It takes a few days to gain the bots friendship, but they seem happy to make such nice friends. Then the Elite Guard comes in…

Optimus Prime

“You’re a good friend Optimus. I’m glad I met you, my friend.”--Buddy

“Thank you, Buddy.”--Optimus

“Are you okay?”--Buddy

Voice crack “I’m fine.”--Optimus

Optimus needs good friends in his life.

Not like Sentinel or Elita-One/ Blackarachnia. They lost their rights to be Prime’s friends.

He has a good friendship with Buddy. Optimus has respect for Buddy as they treat everyone with equality and the same level of kindness. Something that not many people or bots have now a days.

Where was Buddy his entire life?

The only thing that does get on Optimus’s nerves with Buddy is that they want to adopt every animal they see without an owner. He has lost count of how many stray cats and squirrels he has found in their room.

He has no problem standing up for Buddy when they need it. He knows better than to fight others battles. But if Buddy needs the help, Optimus has their back. He does have talks with them about setting their own boundaries and being able to say ‘no’.

Will not hesitate to go out on someone if they make Buddy feel like they aren’t a true Cybertronian. He offers a confidence booster to Buddy if they feel like this, while also plotting against the attacker. Optimus does not care if the attacker is a Bot or human, they are going down.

Ratchet

“Hello there Doctor Ratchet. I cleaned some of your medical tools for you last night and organized them all just the way you like them!”--Ratchet

Need to adopt intensifies.

Oh, he is really considering it,

Ratchet has a soft spot for the younger bots on the team. Buddy is no exception to this.

Buddy’s quiet nature goes along well with Ratchet own quiet nature. Its just introverts being introverts. After his experience with Wreck-Gar, he defiantly has a bit more patience with Buddy.

Ratchet will not hesitate to hurt anyone who hurts Buddy. Whether it be physical or emotional, he has his throwing wrenches ready.

He doesn’t lecture Buddy as much as the rest of the team, but he does take time to talk to them about setting boundaries and saying ‘no’. Ratchet does get worried that one day Buddy isn’t going to say ‘no’ to something that would end up hurting them.

He is going to rain down a whole army on the sorry bot or human who calls Buddy a ‘fake Cybertronian’. Buddy is just as much of a Cybertronain than its inhabitants. Ratchet gives them a mini pep talk about it not mattering whether being a ‘fake’ or not, they are Buddy, one of the best Bots he has had the pleasure of knowing in his life.

Bumblebee

“Hey Buddy! Help me put these boosters on my back!”--Bumblebee

“Umm… that seems a little bit dangerous…”--Buddy

“C’mon please!”--Bumblebee

“… I guess if you use them responsibly…”—Buddy

Oh, he was definitely taking advantage of Buddy’s inability to say ‘no’ at first.

All Bumblebee had to do was sic the puppy dog eyes and a couple of ‘pleases’ and it was done. It isn’t until he gets a reality check from his team that he realizes that what he is doing is a bit messed up.

So, he does try to make up for it.

Mainly in the form of inviting them out to do more outings with him and Sari. But he soon gets the hint that Buddy doesn’t like big, crowded places, he offers Buddy to play video games as an alternative.

With time Bumblebee does try and get Buddy out of their shell. He makes sure they are fine with it first; he doesn’t want to overwhelm them too much. Just taking baby steps first.

He is willing to stand up against anyone who makes Buddy feel uncomfortable and fight them. He does try and help them in saying ‘no’.

He is ready to fight anyone if he hears that Buddy feels bad about being a ‘fake Cybertronian’. He is giving the weirdest pep talk that strangely works and helps Buddy’s self-esteem. Afterwards Bee and Sari are planning on how to make the human or Bots week miserable.

Sari

“Hello there Sari.”--Buddy

“Hey Buddy! You ready for Bird Time?”--Sari

“I thought you’d never ask.”—Buddy

Sari like Bee, definitely used the puppy dog eyes trick but not as much. Mainly to get out of little troubles here and there.

She does get a talk about it like bee though. But unlike Bee she gets a whole new idea.

Sari becomes Big Sister.

She is protective of the Big Little sibling. She feels like she has a special bond with Buddy. Anyways she always wanted to be a sister.

She instated a tradition between the two called Bird Time. Every week or so the two of them would go back to the pond and feed the geese while talking about their weeks. Sari loves Buddy’s empathetic nature and supportiveness. This was especially important when she learned about her not being human.

Like Bee, Sari is willing to fight someone who makes Buddy uncomfortable. Does not matter who it is, no one is coming near her little big sibling. She does have a habit of answering ‘no’ for Buddy when the situation seems fishy.

Sari honestly sympathizes with Buddy when they get called a ‘false Cybertronian’. Being a techno organic she understands that there are a lot of people and bots that will look at them differently. But that does not mean she will be plotting murder behind Buddy’s back. She teams up with Bee to make the person or Bots week miserable.

Bulkhead

“Good morning Bulkhead.”--Buddy

“Oh, hey Buddy…”--Bulkhead

“What’s wrong?”--Buddy

“Well… what do you think of my latest art piece? It’s probably dumb—what are you doing?”--Bulkhead

“I’m going to put this piece of art in my room.”—Buddy

This is Bulkhead’s best friend.

They are practically twins.

Many have mistaken their nature for twins. Which is something that both deep down find endearing and wish it were true.

Buddy never makes Bulkhead feel useless brute that’s only good for smashing things. Buddy does their best to support the things Bulkhead is passionate about.

Bulkhead in return does his best to stand up against anyone who is mean or makes Buddy feel uncomfortable.

Like Buddy he has a tough time saying no to certain things, but is much more honest in saying it and tries to help Buddy when they need it.

He is ready to pound anyone to the ground if he ever finds out Buddy doesn’t feel like a ‘true’ Cybertronian because someone says so. He does a lot of paintings of Buddy and tells them that they are as true Cybertronian as he is and that anyone who says otherwise is dumb. Bulkhead will have a grudge on any bot or human who says anything mean about Buddy.

Prowl

“Hello Prowl.”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Prowl

“… I brought them in…”--Buddy

“Let me see.”--Prowl

Little meows

“Perfect.”—Prowl

Nature friends.

Prowl loves nature and Buddy loves animals.

The two of them like to walk around the park or go to Dinobot island to escape the city and enjoy nature. Buddy has made friends with all the Dinobots which makes Prowl happy.

The two of them have their own version of Bird Time. Except it involves staying still and seeing how many birds can land on them as much as possible. Buddy so far holds the record with 27 birds.

But there is a little snag in their friendship.

It involves training.

Buddy hates the idea of hurting anyone in any way shape or form. Prowl does it for self-defense or when it’s needed. He often tries to get Buddy to train with him, but it usually ends up with Buddy bringing animals into his room and watching him train.

Prowl still tries to get Buddy to at least know something, but that mission is still on going.

Does not hesitate a nanosecond if someone is making Buddy feel uncomfortable and will verbally destroy them if they even think about being mean to Buddy. Does talk to Buddy about the importance of saying no and setting boundaries.

Prowl is ready to throw shuriken’s as soon as he hears about someone making Buddy feel bad about their origins. He talks to Buddy about it no mattering how they got made, what matters is who they are. They are his friend, they are their own bot and that’s all that matters. May or may not have slashed someone/ somebots tires.

Jazz

“So, how long have you’ve been here?”--Jazz

“I was born last month.”--Buddy

“… You want to take a drive around?”—Jazz

Oh, he loves Buddy’s vibe.

They are a breath of fresh air compared to being 5 minutes around Sentinel. He sees someone who has so much kindness and empathy that he knows it is a gift. He doesn’t know too many bots that have that anymore since the war.

Jazz gets to know about Buddy from their hang outs and from talking to Prowl. He likes asking Prowl about Buddy’s favorite places to visit so he knows where the two of them could hang out when he has time. When Jazz can he likes walking with Buddy about anything under the sun. From the latest gossip in the Elite Guard, to his hobbies, music tastes, etc.

Jazz stands up to anyone who is being mean or making Buddy feel uncomfortable. Most times though he would take Buddy physically out of the company of the offender. No one has time to deal with rude people. He does try and talk to Buddy about the power of saying no while still being the kind bot they are and how important boundaries are.

Jazz would be speechless if he ever heard Buddy talk about someone calling them ‘inferior’ for not being a ‘true’ Cybertronian. He’ll take Buddy out on a walk while talking to Buddy about how people being mean because they don’t have anything better to do than cause misery to people who are living life by their rules. Definitely shares with Buddy a comfort playlist before leaving. Teams up with Prowl to find the bot or person who made Buddy feel bad.

Jetfire and Jetstorm

“Buddy! Buddy! Buddy!”—Jetfire and Jetstorm

“Hello there—whoa!”--Buddy

“We missed you!”—Jetfire and Jetstorm

The twins love spending time with Buddy.

Not only does it mean that they get to skip some of their chores, but they get to have fun too. Buddy offers some of the best places to fly and great places to observe some of Earth’s great nature phenomena. The twins sometimes like to combine into Safeguard to give Buddy a ride above the ground to look at earth.

They do use the puppy dog eyes sometimes, but they don’t abuse it too much. Only on harmless things like staying up a little bit more to continue playing video games with Bumblebee.

They don’t hesitate to get Buddy out of a harmful situation. Maybe flare up their powers a bit as a warning. They act like Buddy’s bodyguards when things get hairy.

They get angry when Buddy mentions that someone told them that they were a ‘real’ Cybertronian. They want names immediately. They do try to distract Buddy from feeling down by cracking jokes to make them forget about that feeling again.

Sentinel Prime

“So, this thing has a fragment of the Allspark?”--Sentinel

“They’re name is Buddy.”--Optimus

“Well just hold them down so we can extract—”--Sentinel

“NO!”—Everyone

Yeah, that’s right he wanted to crack Buddy open just to get the Allspark fragment and call it a day. No one is letting Sentinel anywhere near Buddy after what he said. He has tried pulling the Prime card, but that means nothing here.

Buddy, since they did not hear this, does try to make friends with him. They just want everyone to get along, where’s the damage in that? They are a bit confused in why so many of their friends are so against them even being a couple feet from Sentinel.

The rare times that he does get with Buddy are filled with him undermining them and proud fully boasting about his achievements. Yes, he is defiantly one of the Bots who calls Buddy a ‘fake’ Cybertronian. But these are short times since Buddy’s friends are never too far when Sentinel is around.

All the talking does do a number on Buddy’s confidence and self-esteem thinking they aren’t a true Cybertronian

Sentinel better run and hide because the second that Buddy lets loose that they think that way about themselves and it was caused by Sentinel.

Nothing on this planet or Cybertron is going to stop the war path buddy’s friends are going to be on.

[aconstantmonologue]

I just saw Wild Robot in theaters and I am absolutely enamored by every aspect of it.

[YAP SESSION WITH SPOILERS AHEAD]

There were so many beautiful lessons and themes in the whole film that it’s hard to just pick out and label them because doing so would disservice the film in its entirety.

-Roz: From the very start I felt such a strong connection to her. She never really ‘fits in’ anywhere, and faces isolation from those she wants so desperately to form a connection with. It takes her awhile to adapt and understand things outside of her ‘program’, and even then it’s a learning curve for her, change is difficult to process and understand. But eventually she gets to a point where she’s stuck at a crossroads, she still isn’t quite synchronous with the community around her, but they’ve begun to understand and accept her, and she knows that she would be out of place if she returned to her maker. Her love and care for Brightbill and Fink are difficult for her to express verbally, but she expresses through her actions, eventually getting the vocabulary she needs and yearned for. She took her programming, and used it to create a life she truly wanted, not just a husk of a being.

-Brightbill: I saw this film with my dad and my stepmom. My stepmom raised me, she is just Mom for me, but there was a moment where I didn’t understand why I never really got to spend time with my biological mother, and I held a lot of animosity surrounding that for a long time. Eventually I grew to understand that she wasn’t to blame, the situation was out of her control, she simply adjusted her sails to save me, becoming my Mom without hesitation even if it was difficult as first. She was the Roz to my Brightbill, and sacrificed so much of her time to learn and adapt to raise me, and now she has to watch me grow up and live a life of my own.

-Fink: I wasn’t expecting to like him as much as I did, I feel like fox characters tend to fall into a very specific mold and seem flat and under developed. But seeing his growth through the film was lovely. They made it clear that it wasn’t an instantaneous change. He went through lapses where he would self isolate his honest thoughts again, not even sharing them with Roz. But as he spends more time with Roz and Brightbill, he starts to grasp the fact that there are people who WILL care about him with no strings attached. And that he is allowed to get close to others and love them without the fear of it being transactional.

Disability Representation: I was not expecting this at all, and it may not have even been entirely intentional, but elements of this story spoke a truth that rang into my bones as a disabled person. When Roz loses a foot she adapts her surroundings to suit her needs so she can still navigate while training Brightbill to fly. Paddler even makes her a prosthesis to replace the section of the leg she lost. The isolation all three face from their peers for being different and out of place hit so close to home. Being isolated from others because you were “too odd” is something my family and I, and so many other neurodivergent people have experienced, and sometimes you start to lose hope on finding a community that will accept you, until you find them in the most unexpected places.

Going off of that, Brightbill being significantly smaller than the other geese and the criticism he faces for something out of his control was written so well. There are people who will write you, and your capabilities, off without question once they realize that you are disabled and ‘not normal’. He has to do considerably more work and put in more effort to be seen in an equal standing as his able bodied peers. That’s why I think the lesson he learns (along the lines) of “you can do anything I can do, even if it has to look different to fit you” was so important. Disabled people CAN and SHOULD be given the same respect and consideration as able bodied people, and the end result should be the object of value- not the accommodation it took to get there.

I have so many more thoughts but I will contain myself, I do want to see it again sometime soon though :]

[flowerandblood]

oh my god, the fragment of your short story is very cool and your illustration looks beautiful😍😍😍. I'm always extremely happy when I see Slavic mythology somewhere (I'm from Slovakia). I keep my fingers crossed for your work, it will definitely be amazing

ps: I wish you a early recovery

Beloved Husband

Especially for you, the entire story is translated below

[ warnings: character death, violence, progressive madness, depression, mourning ]

Although it had been two springs since her beloved closed his eyes forever, it seemed to her that just a moment ago she was standing at his side in front of the altar in a small wooden church. She was clad that day in her new linen chemise and kaftan, under which stretched her skirt sewn from long, colourful strips, embroidered by her own hands over many nights.

That morning, her mother herself had collected fresh flowers in the field, from which she later wove a beautiful garland of daisies and forget-me-nots for her. The smell of baking cake spread throughout the room as her sisters helped her dress and prepare to leave her family home.

All her belongings, which consisted of several linen shirts and woollen skirts, two kaftans, one winter coat, two pairs of shoes − one for colder days, the other festive, only for church − hair pins, a set of bedding and a holy picture she had received as a gift from her godparents, fit easily into a small wooden chest decorated with painterly ornaments.

Her beloved was beautiful, joyful and kind, his lips curving into a lazy smile at the sight of her, for he had loved her ever since she could remember. He called out to her when she returned from the fair, when she left church with her parents, he made her laugh by looking at her over the fence as she fed her geese, by telling her made-up tales and legends.

He would come to her parents with gifts, wishing them to look upon him with a more favourable eye, as he was poorer than they were − she was the daughter of a respectable farmer, while he was the son of a simple serf peasant apprenticed to a blacksmith.

Although her guardians at first regarded him with disapproval and reserve, they eventually recognised his industriousness, which also brought him a tangible income. He spent days and nights in the forge, creating things that were not only useful and durable, but also beautiful, appreciated by the villagers and the heirs of the manor houses.

Without delay, he came to the aid of his future parents-in-law when the hinges of their doors and shutters began to loosen and fall off. He forged new ones for them, beautifully fitted, with indentations and swirls, which they later showed off to their neighbours. She watched it all from afar, daring to offer him only her warm, happy smile and a gratitude that filled his heart with fervent hope.

− Wait for me, pretty dove − he called out to her then, and she laughed, not even thinking of marrying another.

His approach full of patience and understanding eventually won the hearts of her parents. Her father decided, after some thought, that it was good to have such a swift, hard-working son-in-law, who, in addition, was cordial to the women.

He believed that he would certainly be a good and gentle husband, who would not hit or shout at his daughter, and who would also gladly drink vodka with his father-in-law, and would conduct a conversation well, as his mind was sharp and enlightened.

She knew that she had caught God by the feet when they finally agreed to give him her hand, and she did not hide her joy. She thanked her Lord during every evening prayer for the fact that she did not have to marry a drunkard, a scoundrel, but a kind, handsome, hard-working young man, at the sight of whom she felt warmth melt through her heart.

Not even one spring of their marital happiness had passed when her beloved fainted, having returned from the forge all hot and fiery. He coughed terribly and babbled, only making it home with the help of their neighbour. They laid him on the bed together, wondering what to do. Fear then overtook her and she immediately sent for an herbalist who lived a few huts away.

The woman arrived in the evening and, without saying anything or demanding payment, prepared water over the cooker by throwing dried leaves and herbs into it, muttering something at the same time. After these mysterious procedures, she gave her decoction to her husband, ordering him to drink.

She rejoiced, for the colours returned to his countenance, for life returned to his members, for he recognised her, calling her his pretty dove.

Her heart was filled anew with hope. Lying by his side at night, she prayed fervently, thanking God for his grace.

Only in the morning, when the first rays of the sun woke her up, wanting to attend to her daily chores and prepare his morning meal, did she feel that the body lying next to her was cold and stiff.

She was afraid to look at him, and when she finally did, she saw his face, pale and blue, his lips parted slightly, as if he were in fact still asleep. She tried to wake him, at first with a whisper, then with cries and wails, clamping her fingers over his body, but his eyelids never opened again.

She couldn't name what was happening to her. It seemed to her as if her speech had been completely taken away. Her body was left without strength, her mind became blank, dulled. She lay next to him, looking at his face, holding his cold hand in hers, unable to let go of the thought that the only thing left of him was his body.

She didn't understand what her mother was saying, stroking her cheeks and shoulders as they stood over his grave on the day of his funeral. She stared at the simple wooden cross stuck into the fresh, damp earth, listening to the women wailing and crying raucously around the coffin, chanting mournful hymns that only increased her despondency.

It seemed to her that her mind was foggy and sluggish. She drank, she ate, she did her chores, but she did not feel or experience anything. Her body was as if in a state of prolonged shock. In her mind there was still the conviction that her husband would cross the threshold of their home as he did every evening, that he would take her in his arms, speaking of his longing, that they would sit down to supper together, recounting what the day had brought them.

Her parents, seeing the impact of her bereavement and such a sudden loss, ordered her to return to the family home, which she did. From then on, she helped them with their daily chores, as she had done when she was still a maiden.

She would speak to them and be in their company, but her mind seemed to be out of her body, the emptiness that filled her began to be slowly replaced by a progressive rage and irritation, as she noticed that everyone had begun to forget about him. They laughed and smiled, got drunk and danced as he lay there, deep underground, alone.

Shrill thoughts flashed through her head as she lay alone at night under her quilt. Her heart squeezed with pain at the notion that perhaps the gravedigger had not buried him deep enough and his body would be desecrated by wolves or stray dogs or, God forbid, her poor beloved would wake up in his wooden grave and be unable to get out, driving his nails helplessly into the wooden lid.

She would cry aloud then, burying her face in her hands, holding her thoughts and pains deep inside her, feeling that no one else would understand her suffering, that only he, her dearest, if he were still alive, could comfort her.

It was then that she heard him for the first time since the day he closed his eyes forever: the loud, clear rustling of the grass and the quiet cracking of the branches beneath his feet.

She rose quickly, feeling the aggressive, chest-shattering pounding of her heart. A cold sweat ran down her back as she leaned out uncertainly to look out of the window.

There was no one in the courtyard.

She sat still for a moment, feeling a tightness in her throat at the thought that there was a graveyard beyond the woods overlooking her small room.

The next day she lay down to sleep faster than usual, excusing herself to her family for being unwell, feeling a pleasant tingling in her fingers and excitement at the thought that perhaps her beloved would visit her again, give her some sign, tell her what he needed. No one came, however, and salty tears of regret and disappointment ran down her cheeks as she lay, facing the window, watching the first rays of the sun.

She wandered off to the cemetery in the morning, explaining to her relatives that she wished to place fresh flowers on her late husband's grave. However, when she arrived at the site, she found to her disbelief and dismay that although grass should have grown on the grave long ago, the sand on it was still wet and fresh, as if he had been buried only the day before.

Walking back home along the dirt road, wrapping herself in a warm woollen shawl, she thought of her grandmother's stories. Of how people who had died, called wraiths, rose from their graves to haunt their families, peering down on their children and placing cold, corpse-like kisses on the lips of their wives and husbands.

At this thought she felt heat in her lower abdomen, a pleasant tickling sensation engulfed her fingertips and lips, and she imagined that her beloved had come to her then, that night, wanting to prove to her that he remembered her, that he loved her and could not leave without her.

The realisation that he could wander still in the world without knowing a holy rest both frightened and delighted her at the same time, that their love could be stronger than death, that his desire to stay with her was more important to him than the will of God himself, who had called him to join him.

She stopped and trembled as she heard a loud rustling in the depths of a field filled all around with tall, golden wheat. She lifted herself up on tiptoe, feeling the rumbling of her yearning heart, looking around carefully. Her breathing became raspy and loud, full of excitement.

− My love? − She heard her own trembling, warm voice, sounding as if a mother was calling her child, wanting to give him courage.

However, she saw nothing, nor did she hear any reply.

Nevertheless, the conviction that her husband was still prowling the earth and watching her was growing stronger within her. Candles would suddenly burn out in the rooms she was in, although no one passed by them, doors would open with a loud creak of old wood even though no one was standing behind them. She was awakened at night by a quiet tapping on the windowpanes that kept her awake. She had the impression that she heard someone's footsteps even when there was no one in the room but her.

She whispered to him each time, asking him to appear to her. She would convince him that his cadaverous, pale face would certainly not scare her away, that he still remained her beloved, her only one.

He did not answer.

It seemed to her that she was slowly losing her mind. She was getting thinner and thinner, her face becoming pale, bruises from dozens of sleepless nights surrounding her lifeless eyes. Her parents, worried about her behaviour and the fact that the slightest sound or movement made her flinch as she looked around the rooms, suggested that perhaps it was time to find her a new husband.

− You will have your children, and he too will comfort you with a kind word and a strong embrace of his arms − her mother said. She looked at her dully, feeling that her pale lips trembled parted in disbelief. Cold sweat trickled down her neck, her fingers clenched tightly on the material of her skirt.

That night, she cried aloud with her face pressed into her pillow, calling for her beloved, her kindest, cursing him and begging him to relieve her suffering, to prevent her from being given away to any other man, because they had promised each other that they would be together, now and for eternity.

It was then that she heard him again − the quiet crackling and rustling outside her window, someone's footsteps so clear that her heart leapt into her throat. She pulled herself up from her bed and looked out of the window, pressing her palms against the glass. A pitiful, low sob escaped from her throat as she spotted a male figure disappearing deep into the dark woods.

She got up quickly, putting a warm blanket over herself, and slipped out of her family home in only her nightgown, moving after the mysterious silhouette, wanting to shout for him to stop, fearing, however, that she would startle him. Seeing only the full moon and stars above her, she trudged through the tall shrubs, the needles of the pines and the sharp stones beneath her feet hurting her skin.

She knew that in order to reach the cemetery she had to walk straight ahead, and despite her fear, her heart was filled with courage, because for him, for her beloved, she was willing to do anything.

A loud sigh of relief left her lungs when she finally stood at the border of the forest, seeing clearly the outlines of wooden and iron crosses. She froze completely when she noticed a male figure leaning deeply into one of the grave pits. A broad smile appeared on her face for the first time since fate had separated them.

− My beloved! − She shouted with joy, with hope, with relief, drenched in tears, running towards him with confidence, thinking only of throwing herself into his arms again, of speaking to him again, of hearing his voice again.

My pretty dove.

She stopped halfway, feeling her heart freeze, shivers ran along her spine as the man she was running towards jumped out of the pit like a burned man.

She saw his terrified eyes, he was panting heavily as if he was some wild animal, raising his hands high in the air. She found to her horror that she did not recognise either his face or his figure, looking at him in the moonlight. He was older and taller than her husband, dressed in dark, dirty trousers and coat, his large hands black from the ground.

Only after a moment did she notice a long shovel lying next to his feet, a sack lay immediately next to it, she swallowed with difficulty recognising in its contents something that resembled shimmering gold jewellery in the moonlight.

The stranger moved suddenly towards her, grabbing earlier a shovel lying on the ground. She screamed loudly, throwing herself into flight, understanding her mistake, her stupidity, her naivety. She stumbled several times over tombstones and tree roots, her sore feet seeming to scream with every step she took.

Her voice stuck in her throat when suddenly something dull and hard hit her heavily on the back of her head, then again and again; she fell to the ground, panting heavily. Everything around her seemed to spin, she no longer recognised shapes or where she was, warm liquid ran down her forehead, the metallic taste of blood that had flooded her face melted between her lips.

She wanted to scream for rescue to her beloved, to her parents, but she was unable to get the words out. She cried out loudly and drew in a loud breath, bursting out crying when she felt his large, rough hands clamp down on her bare calves, pulling her back on the ground. Her fingers impulsively dug into the sand and grass, fruitlessly trying to resist him, something akin to a grunt escaped her throat.

My God, have mercy.

She was already completely limp when he threw her into the middle of the grave. No sound left her lips as the heavy, cold sand began to fall on her body. Her empty gaze, from which the life was slowly escaping, was fixed on the bright moon disc spreading over her head.

Before the last breath left her lungs, a thought flashed through her dying mind, from which she smiled gratefully at the stranger who stood high above her like death itself.

I will see him again.

_____

Illustrations and text are created by me. Do not repost.

[coolnameloading]

Second Place (final)

You paced back and forth in your room, your black boots making a thudding noise with every step on your wooden floor. The anxiety makes your stomach bubble uncomfortably. 

It had been a few days now since…the incident as you’ve decided to call it. 

After Lottie had pulled out your pen she and Shauna got into another argument and you told them you needed some time to think.

They both respected your decision and watched you drive off in your shitty little orange car before going their separate ways.

I mean, this shouldn’t even be a choice, right? Shauna was your girlfriend! And yeah, she might have messed up a bit during the last few months, but she seemed more than sorry.

And you always felt so happy with Shauna, like you could block out anything and everything negative around you while you were together. 

But Lottie…You’d be lying if you said she wasn’t gorgeous, I mean anyone with functioning eyes could see that. And there was something about her confidence that was so refreshing to you. 

Not to mention the fact that she held onto your pen for so long just in case she got the chance to ask you out someday. It was such a soft act that seemed so out of character from such a confident girl. 

I mean was it even a choice? 

You pick up your phone and go to her contact, it only rings twice before she answers.

“Hey um…meet me at the park?”

Lottie ending

You wait in the park, fiddling with your hands anxiously. The cold air nips at your skin, causing you to pull your jacket tighter around you.

You always loved this park. There’s a large pound in the center that’s usually filled with ducks and geese during the rest of the year, but it’s currently frozen over.

The last leaves stubbornly sticking to the branches of the trees covered in snow make you chuckle. 

Your warm breath from your laugh appears in a small cloud. 

“Hey, stranger.”

You hear from behind you making you spin around.

“Lottie…hi.”

The two of you stare at each other for a while before she clears her throat and pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear.

She’s wearing the same pink sweater from the other day, you can still see some mud stains that didn’t wash out as easily.

 “So…did you call me here to let me down in the cold? Because it’s freezing.”

“Oh god I’m so sorry I didn't even think about-”

“No no no it was just a joke it’s not even that cold.”

The two of you keep standing there as you try to piece together your confession.

Fuck you really should have done this before calling her.

“I choose you.”

You mumble under your breath looking at the frozen grass beneath your boots.

You hear Lottie gasp but decide not to look up, waiting until you get your blush under control before you look at her.

When you do look up you see her charging at you throwing herself at you in a hug while laughing happily.

“LOTTIE WHY?”

You scream out before your back hits the cold fresh snow.

You can feel the snow seeping into your hoody making you shiver but you can’t find it in yourself to push Lottie off you.

“You mean it?”

She whispers against your neck, her warm breath a stark contrast to the cold snow soaking through your hoodie.

“Yes…I pick you.”

You whisper back wrapping your arms around her as the two of you lay in the snow.

“Now let me get up my hoodie is soaked.”

Shauna ending 

You wait in the park, fiddling with your hands anxiously. The cold air nips at your skin, causing you to pull your jacket tighter around you.

You always loved this park. There’s a large pound in the center that’s usually filled with ducks and geese during the rest of the year, but it’s currently frozen over.

The last leaves stubbornly sticking to the branches of the trees covered in snow make you chuckle. 

Your warm breath from your laugh appears in a small cloud. 

Suddenly a pair of arms wrap around your waist. 

You immediately recognize the feeling of Shauna’s arms and you lean back against her warm body.

You can feel your anxiety melt away at the familiar feeling while her body shields you from the cold wind.

Shauna tucks her head under your neck, her warm breath tickling against your skin while you reach back to play with her hair as the two of you stand there in silence. 

“Hey”

You whisper, your voice shaking slightly in anticipation of the conversation you’re about to have.

You feel Shauna’s hold on you tighten slightly before she echos your greeting.

“Hey”

Neither of you makes a move to pull away, Shauna out of fear that this will be the last time she’ll be able to hold you like this. And you because you’re cold and completely oblivious to your girlfriend’s internal conflict. 

After a few more seconds of silence, you hear Shauna whimper against your neck.

“Please don’t break up with me.”

Immediately you turn around and cup her face with your hands. You see the silent tears rolling down her cheeks which are red from the cold.

“No, Shuana sweetie I’m not breaking up with you!”

You mumble out trying to reassure your now sobbing girlfriend as her hands grip onto the fabric of your hoodie tightly.

“Y-you’re not?” “No Shauna…but we still need to talk about what happened.”

She nods whipping her tears away with her sleeves before looking at you with her big puppy-dog eyes.

“C-can we talk in my car? It’s cold”

You nod and follow her to her car. She turns it on and turns on the heat, trying to warm up her hands.

As you walked to her car hand-in-hand you knew everything would be alright somehow. 

[kedreeva]

(disclaimer: I am not saying this from a place of hostility to geese)

how did 3-year old you survive feeding geese :( when I was 4 I was feeding ducks and geese (which I was about the same height as at the time) at a local pond and they chased me and tried to bite me until my parents picked me up and ran. I didn't try to scare them and I was a generally quiet child, do I just have Bad Vibes to them or something? or is it something to do with their past experiences/socialization as Pond Ducks/Geese? nowadays whenever a goose or swan so much as starts staring at me I'm like "ok time to go :)"

Without knowing more about the situation, I can't say what particular thing you did, but I can say that geese don't chase people for no reason at all. It's possible you got too close rather than letting them come to you, it's possible you were just plain too close to their nesting site, it's possible you performed a movement that (in goose) suggested your desire to start a dispute. It's possible you were feeding them from your hands and they associated your hands with food, and were simply looking for more food, or attempting to chase you away from the food.

And to be clear, I'm definitely not advocating for people letting small children feed geese, honestly no one should be feeding wild animals, mostly because it familiarizes wildlife with humans and that can be bad, but also because it opens too many opportunities for humans to do the wrong things and end up hurt or scared. As a 4yo, it wasn't your responsibility to know how to interact with geese- it was your parents' job to monitor your actions, the actions and reactions of the geese, and remove you from the situation before it became a problem (or not put you in that position in the first place). The geese are blameless for acting like geese and you are blameless by reason of being 4 years old.

I ALSO want to be clear that being SCARED of something DOES NOT equal HATING something. Hate can stem from fear, and fear can stem from hate, but they are not the same thing. There are PLENTY of people, for example, who are terrified of spiders but who will either remove them from a place with a cup and paper, or fetch someone to do so, to prevent a spider from dying for the crime of being small. You (general) can be afraid of something and still treat it with respect. You do not have to hate the things you are afraid of.

[housemaiden-of-change]

INTRODUCTION POST!!!

Hi!! My name is Mirabelle (She/her), and I'm travelling with my friends Siffrin, Isabeau, Odile, and Bonnie! We're here to save Vaugarde from The King! This is my first time running something like this sooo I'm a little nervous, and I have a few personal boundaries:

- No NSFW or flirtatious messages please!!! I personally don't like that kind of stuff

- Please don't be too mean! Especially to other askers! We all see the world differently

- Art submissions are welcomed AND appriciated!!

- While I believe everyone is allowed to interract with my blog, I have some acceptions! No Homohphobes, transphobes, racists, MAPs, Proshippers, basically anyone who is "Anti-Change" Change is apart of life, buster! Deal with it!

- You don't have to ask me for a hug or to be your friend! To Dormonts house, you are a friend of us all! <3

- Bonnie has a blog of their own now! Bonnie rules semi-no longer apply! :3

Now for some words of the Blog Manager!

Hi hey and hello! Its me, @imlivinginyourtrashcan (He/Him) and I have finally caved! (Hope you are proud Siffrin)

Now for my personal boundaries for this blog, along with simple requests:

-My rules are the same as Mirabelles, but with my own ooc twist

-While Mirabelle herself is a She/Her user, I am not! I use He/Him, I won't tolerate purposeful misgendering

- I finished the game! Not in full, still have stuff to do some of the achivements, so be careful with spoilers still 🙏🙏🙏 (ask before you initiate, please, I didnt get Who Was The Phone yet so getting that ask qualified as a spoiler)

- Any godmod or metagaming request will be denied! Or, cleaverly intercepted by 《 The omnious unnamed narraror!~ 》. If you have to ask if its godmodding, it probably is! Don't do it!

- I have the right to deny or veto an ask, and you all have done a great job listening (except with the excess geese attempt), but if I, in character or not, say not to do it, dont!

- Anon is off. Maybe you can earn it back, but I doubt it. Run away, weirdos! [Sptzz sptzz] ....but if you were a nice fella and wanna remain anon, I can blur your name and pfp! Just say so in ask (same rules as Mundie)

- This Blog will follow the shennanigans of @a-traveling-star (King), @studies-of-nothing (Ninja), @defender-of-jouvente (Mundie), @snacksleader (Susie), and @loopadoop (Unsure if they want to be called smthn else yet)

Occasionally in the askbox, we'll get a rp scenario with "Suzu" thats our mutual friend @cookieeevee you should go follow them theyre so cool.

- Please no ship related asks, love you guys but I dont want a war in my comments section /lh

- Like the others have stated before, do not rush us! Please! None of you have done it to ME but my friends have reported it happening to them, we all have lives! We'll get to you eventually!

- I personally don't give a shit if an au self comes around, but don't force it into the canon please, time and place! But come say hi whenever!

- I'm fine with being adressed in ooc and will sign my name with ooc brackets, but just cuz im ok with it doesn't mean you should start pressuring other people to do the same. Some people wanna remain anon and thats perfectly ok :)

- Alsoooo~ Cuz this is an au, ill be tagging things [besides act 0] in their respective acts 🫡

Bye Bye!! ~