#i always considered her avians' “bird mother” but never really. made Her a bird

[linkedin-offficial]

avian teth

[borkthemork]

Finally cleaned up this draft based on @/popcornbee’s art and it is now officially on AO3 as well, so I hope all of you enjoy!

---

There were numerous pathways for a sparrow to travel. Following their migration patterns, they'd travel down to warmer lands, typically somewhere protected for the nights. In doing so, they'd rest in the winter and return back all new. Refreshed for the upcoming springs and summers.

For American Tree Sparrows, these patterns were necessary to survive.

For Joe Sparrow, the true information depended. 

He liked to flit about on rapid wing beats. He preferred curdled mealworms due to previous battles hurting his digestive system. For migration, he remained stubborn on whether he liked the warmer breezes or if the Newtopian stables were of true home than anything else.

Newtopia had a history of domestic birds. Joe Sparrow was the mixed case when he grew all-natural, got captured and owned by one or more owners who called him previous names, and then found Marcy in the middle of sweltering rain. Where a mission lead to something new and surprising, bold and unorthodox, and the moment Joe saved her — chose her hand of all people — Marcy promised to keep him safe. Safe, protected, cared for.

And nothing had pulled these two away from each other. Not even the fleeting concept of gravity. Or the fact winter threatened his nests.

Anne asked about him before. On one occasion, where Marcy groomed him under Plantar barn shade, Anne looked at his big, round, puffy belly and wondered out loud where the scar above his eye fit in out of all things.

Of course, Marcy had the answer.

“Oh, you know Joe,” she sighed. “He keeps pushing his limits. You won’t believe how many scars this bad boy got during his old career. For the eye one, he actually got that scar back when he was just a fledgling, but this was during the morally ethical times where amphibians didn’t really care for mounts unless they were battle resistant.”

Her hand parsed through his plume, giggling when Joe tweeted pleasantly against her skin. “But now he’s in a morally ethical place, aren’t you, boy? Yes, you are.”

Anne snorted. She ruffled Joe’s feathers too, and the two giggled quietly when the sparrow seemed to lean into the touch. Almost as if the sparrow connected immediately to Anne.

And Anne teared up over the thought. “It’s just like mother nature intended.”

The week afterward reminded Marcy of her sparring days, but instead of swords and smoke bombs, she had worms and patience. Lots of patience as Anne attempted to feed some mesh into Joe’s beak — and ultimately got stuck when she leaned too hard into his mouth.

It was funny how all this bonding time left her blind to anything else on the schedule. Marcy could instruct Anne to direct the mealworms to Joe for hours and still find Anne’s laughter to be the highlight of her day. Maybe Joe would sit on Anne, and leave her yelling and laughing under floof-fulls of bird, and Marcy would sketch that scene than the typical mission schematics Lady Olivia instructed her to look through.

Marcy hypothesized that Joe's love for attention spurned her focus. It made sense for birds to tease if they didn’t get the proper reaction out of people. It made sense for a bird such as Joe to find affection in someone who exuded goodness from their heart. But then Marcy would remember Anne. For Anne had Joe’s affection at the palm of her hands but irritated the bird enough to prefer dipping her into a nearby pond just for the sake of playfighting. And that enough had gotten her intrigued.

Was it another phenomenon she needed to analyze? To understand fully until the cusp of discovery?

Perhaps. Not right now though.

Marcy had found a breakthrough. A breakthrough in Animal-Human Sociology. But her focus lingered elsewhere, came down to how she rested next to a bucket load of dirty feathers — snoring into her best friend’s shoulder until the moon rose high above the Amphibian mountains.

---

When Marcy stared through the sky, and the act alone reminded her so much of Kid Icarus. If she ignored the wings branching out from the corners of her eyes, and only focused on the colors then she thought of herself as flying. Flying through skies that bled yellows and reds like Aivazovsky, framed so well against the crisp horizons that Marcy could almost paint the perfectest picture in her mind.

And when wind buffered her hair, parted the clouds with her hands, she swore that the taste on her tongue was of fresh saltwater.

Navigation. Freedom. The fades from orange to blue to maroon. Marcy loved riding for a reason. She held onto Joe’s reins with the utmost quickness, spelled out her name with short dives and leaps through cumulus tufts. And in the aftermath, she wrung her coat dry of moisture.

At least, until Anne became a priority.

Anne Boonchuy. Friend of ten years. Friends since the term friends became part of the Merriam Webster. Now, the latter sounded silly, but friendship could be a frank concept at times, it was something Marcy had no clue how to navigate, and yet Anne found her and decided Marcy was worth her time.

So they were here now: One readying an avian saddle, the other petting Joe’s tufts with the heaviest affection. And aw, Joe seemed to like it, what with the amount of cooing he’d been doing for the past hour.

Not like Marcy didn’t want to get in on that action. She just needed to finish clipping on the latches — and when she did that, it would be go-time, her a-game.

“Anne, can you push me that satchel?”

“Sure thing, Marce.” With ease, Anne somehow lugged a chair-sized bag over to where Marcy was, and they remained silent afterward as she finished the remainder of preparations.

What preparations? Well, the kind that remained out of her league.

“Sooo, where are ya’ going, exactly?” Anne asked. She had the same perturbed look to her ever since she whiffed the scents from the bag itself.

Marcy couldn’t help but rub her neck, not knowing how well to respond. “Well, I’ve been planning to scout an area somewhere high up in the Southern sect of Amphibia. I got wind that some bandits plan to use a route to jump ambassadors from here and there on the pathways, and I just wanted to make sure that doesn’t happen again, you know?"

“For sure, dude. I mean, you are the boss after all. That stuff’s gotta be pretty important if you’re getting loads of homework for it.”

“Well,” Marcy puckered her lips. She was right in some sense. Chief rangers plopped themselves into some high category up in the Newtopian ranks. It made sense. “Correct, kinda. I don’t really call it a boss position, more so a job. A very fun job, actually. You’d be surprised at how many prefer office desks to infantry, it’s nuts.”

Although, the more she thought about it, being able to stay safe in a big ole’ cube than getting skewered by bandits did sound appealing. Less probability for harm, sure. But Marcy loved the hunt way too much for her own good.

If Andrias gave her another objective, she might as well do a little dance at this point; there was always something exciting to partake in.

And with Joe, the fun always doubled with him.

At least, until she remembered that Anne had been staring at her, snapping her fingers in front of Marcy’s nose. “Marbles, you good? Another zone-out moment again?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. Thanks, I was about to get worried, the internal dialogue I had was getting way too extensive for my taste."

"Well, now that you’re out of your internal dialogue stuff, I got to ask.” Anne peered at Joe again. “Can I get on your bird?”

Marcy blinked at her. “Oh. Of course. You don’t really need to ask me if you’re curious about riding him.”

“I know, but he’s a big softie, really wanted to make sure I got your permission before anything else.” She coughed. “Plus I’m not gonna take any vehicles without permission. Tried that once. Didn’t go so hot.”

Somehow, Marcy found herself giggling. She couldn’t pinpoint why; Anne’s honesty must’ve just been that funny. “Well, if you want to jump on the SS Joe Sparrow, I’d be happy to show you around and get you a front-row ticket to some action.”

“For real?” Anne beamed, only for her expression to melt into a frown, scratching her chin at the thought. “Aren’t you on ranger duty though?”

Okay, she had a point there. “I mean, yeah, but I’ve mainly done this stuff solo. Sure I’ve got Joe to accompany me but it’ll be interesting to have a second person on board for the ride.” Without a skip in her beat. “And why wouldn’t I have you go with me? Of course, I would. You’re always the best on road trips.”

And with that, Anne’s smile grew tenfold. Oddly beautiful. Oddly hard to describe. Weirder to even have herself think those things in the first place. “Count me in, then. Let’s go, Marbles!”

Oh well. She’d think about that later.

---

Joe softened his landings in-between. And at certain points, when the mountains dipped to valleys he rocketed around and buffeted the gales just for the heck of it. He had the heart of a little kid sometimes, every moment he swooped through some current or plummet forward if he got the chance. He liked to make himself seem so grand when he cheeped. And Marcy confided in the idea that no matter how aged this sparrow would become, he’d still be the softest avian around.

Always there. Always playful. Always…eager for potential mates. He was the total package for best mount in all of Amphibia, and Marcy didn’t want it any other way.

So with Anne, Marcy became delighted when Joe kept that same kindness. It wasn’t just Marcy doing rough landings against solid ground or her zipping through the air. There were two people, two people to consider on the back of his saddle.

And Joe never disappointed her. He pivoted, swerved on command, and coaxed giggles from the girl behind her, whose arms pressed tightly to her waist until their hair puffed out from the wind.

“Keep your arms locked in, Annie B!”

Marcy’s hands whipped the reins, whooping at the top of her lungs when the dive pushed oceans of air into their faces.

The straps and belts dug into their laps when Joe pulled up, braced them in a loop-de-loop that had their eyes rolling when they finally exited out to a steady level.

And Marcy could hear the laughter behind her.

The laughter spoke of so much joy and happiness, of a symphony that Marcy had heard so many times before, and Marcy leaned into her warmth when they passed from the hallowed groves to the shimmering Newtingale creaks.

All throughout the Southern sect, all throughout the faint rattle of Marcy’s heart.

---

The ride home had been a lot darker than Marcy expected. For most of her trips in and out of the valleys, a lot of her path-finding culminated in something one could describe as an adventure. If one described her and Anne beating up an entire bandit group disguised as a clown posse to be an adventure, then yes. That was what happened.

They went head-to-head, toe-to-toe. All while decked out in white makeup and smelly rotten clown noses. This all sounded ridiculous, but out in Amphibia, one should never ever underestimate a theatre group.

For entertainment was their cruelest weapon.

Anne had been the first to ambush the bandits during the mission. With the agile reflexes of a cat, she deflected each oncoming slash with ease while Marcy took aim, calculated her crossbow trajectory until the enemies all knocked unconscious in the mud.

If one ignored the clown get-up, then what she talked about seemed like a typical day for Marcy. Always saving someone. Always doing her best. Always making sure no newts got chewed up by some toad or frog dressed up in rogue wear.

But the difference today was that she had someone to accompany her. Or how that same someone jumped onto Joe and gave that feisty bird a few scratches to his feathers, trying to wash her face in the water bucket they stored earlier today.

It all seemed domestic-like. The kind that Marcy dreamed about in fantasy stories, where the protag had a close ally to travel the world until their dying breaths.

And gosh, it was so cool that Anne became that friend.

She seemed to enjoy it too, what with the close embrace when they finally took off for the night, her chin propped on her cloaked shoulder, or the fact her exhales drifted in crisp Amphibian air.

A sign that she was enjoying everything. Everything from the swoop of Joe’s wings, the purple haze of the night, or how the moon cloaked their forms in red lighting — masking the landscape in darkness like a blanket over bedding.

Anne sighed contently. Her face nestled close to Marcy’s neck. She didn’t show that she regretted being here.

Not one bit.

“I’ve never been this high up before,” she mumbled. “The only times I did were when some creature flung me up into the middle of nowhere.”

Marcy hummed to that. Anne's fingers ghosted the triceps of Marcy's arms, left goosebumps to form and bristle in the cold, it made everything feel weird. Comfortable. Safe. “So is this less traumatizing and more exciting then?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Her voice rang, all charmed and sweet. “By a long shot.”

And Marcy was glad about that. Ever since she found Joe, a lot of her adventures had gotten easier to deal with. From zooming over to the Dry Swamp to the many forests hidden deep underneath solid canopies, one of the many pros of having a steed like Joe was of the view.

A view that made scouting ten times easier. The kind that entangled her in clouds, the song of avians, and the dance of the breeze. The kind that chilled her nose, left cumulus droplets on her thumbs, and when she settled down from grazing the upper layers of oxygen her body’s equilibrium warmed her up like it always intended to.

To have Anne feel that same experiences — the same elation — made the trip all the more worth it. Especially when Marcy’s skin grew warmer under non-equilibrium circumstances. All due to the cuddly contact.

Oh, Anne.

“If you want, I know a froggy pitstop nearby that sells slushies twenty-four-seven,” Marcy said softly. Joe went into a descent, already maneuvered by Marcy’s quick hands at the reins. They weren’t going to land yet. At least until Anne said so. “Wouldn’t hurt to take in the view on a full stomach.”

“That sounds amazing.” Anne pressed closer, and Marcy tried not to think about the murmur, how low it rumbled against Marcy’s ear. Gosh, she must be really relaxed by now. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m ready for some grub.”

“Well, they aren’t really grubs more like a mish-mash of every insect on the palette.”

“I try not to think about it.”

With laughter escaping them, Marcy directed Joe into the forest space below, her heart synced with the beat of sparrow wings.

[indigobackfire]

HPHM OC Profile ✧

Phoenix Nobleworth

" You're like a poisonous flower, Phoenix. Beautiful and inviting with all your colors and aromas and deadly force. "

Full Name: Phoenix Lazar Nobleworth Silverwood

Nicknames: Pheny. Birdy (by some of his Hufflepuff friends). Nobleworth. Silverwood (by Snape out of spite).

Gender: Male.

Birthday: 12th of May, 1973.

Born: Deva, Transylvania, Romania.

Mother: Biological: Antonia Lazar, full Veela. Adoptive: Clarin (née Tramer) Silverwood.

Father: Biological: Emilian Nobleworth, Scottish, Half-Veela, Gryffindor. Adoptive: Palmer Silverwood.

Siblings: Jacob Silverwood (b. 1968), Indigo Silverwood (b. 1973).

Ethnicity: Romanian, Scottish.

Species: Veela.

Sexuality: Heterosexual.

MBTI Type: IN(TorF)P-T (I can't decide, so he's both).

Blood Status: Half-blood (I think.)

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff.

Appearance

Eyes: His eyes are a shade between green and blue with very light tones of lilac depending on the light. But due to his Veela powers he can change them into an shape or color he likes.

Hair: A light shade of golden blonde, wavy, usually grown below his chin. (At some point, he dyed a strand turquoise to impress his crush, I know, wild.)

Height: He's reasonably tall usually towering by little other boys, with long legs.

• He's got those handsome looks expected from a full Veela, structural face but round features give him a soft look. He's very strong despite his slim figure. His skin is pretty fair but he has a myriad of scars from past transformations.

• He's told he's a perfect mixture of his parents which gives him a friendly and suave look that easily turns authoritative and seductive when he uses his Veela powers of seduction.

Veela Form: Different from what's described in canon, I like to imagine Veelas having feathers that differ from people to people. Phoenix's feathers are fair golden with the inner side of his wing in shades of red, the feathers go up to the knees and elbows while hands and feet become bird-like with long black talons. His features and ears become sharper, and his teeth, fangs. His eyes turn silver-white when he turns by his will and bright yellow when forced to turn.

Transformation is hardly ever painless and he often hurts himself and takes longer to heal because of the Veela blood. Both spells and potions don't work as effectively, which is why he fights to control his temper, beyond the fact he can end up hurting somebody else.

Transformation occurs when he's either angry, instigated or when someone pulls out a string of his hair. Unless for the latter, he has partial control over his transformation/consciousness (nevertheless requiring practice and focus).

Magical Aspects

Wand: Pearwood with Veela hair core and an amber stone for stability, 14'' and flexibility. "Pearwood produces wands of splendid magical powers, which give of their best in the hands of the warm-hearted, the generous, and the wise, also among the most resilient." Veela's hair core is known to be temperamental — which is why Olivander had trouble making Phoenix's wand, having to insert molten amber to the torn wand for stability. The hair came from one shed by his mother which they used to keep stored for such use.

Patronus: Thunderbird. The Thunderbird is a large, magical avian beast native to North America. A close relative of the Phoenix. They can create storms as it flies and is highly sensitive to danger. They possess three pairs of powerful wings and have feathers that shimmer with cloud-like patterns.

Patronus memory: The day his wizard powers started presenting themselves — he stopped a sculpture from falling on his dad's head within a beat of his heart — and they had a real feast that night.

Veela Abilities: Beyond the popular ability to seduce - which really began when he turned 14 -, Veelas can also dwell and create fire from their hands in human form but requires training to control.

Boggart:

Penny (in specific because he hates to see her cry) holding his dead sister, hurt and bleeding, and hearing Penny say how could he have done that, because he's terribly afraid of losing his control and hurting Indigo.

Riddikulus: Penny tuns into Tonks and Indigo wakes up saying it was ketchup and makeup all along.

Amortentia: Regular burning candles, purple passionfruit, the smell of the house/apartment he lives in with his family, Peppermint tea, and the smell of fresh clay.

Once he gets over the fear of losing control somewhere around the end of his 4th year, his boggart in year 5 turns into Inferius versions of his parents after he learns about them in DADA, but even worse than described in the textbooks, with bugs crawling out of their mouths, a half-rotten dragon head on their lap and clothes stained with nearly black blood.

He has a hard time using Riddikulus on that one.

Miscellaneous

Pets: A Flama Squirrel (I made up from a real one), a magical squirrel that sets itself on fire when threatened, mostly predated by smaller breeds of dragons and Chimeras. The Flama's liver is commonly used in Erumpent potion with the intention of increasing its property but its lack doesn't spoil the potion, and their glands used to be common in perfumes for aphrodisiac fragrances until they started going extinct from excessive hunting.

Things he always carries with him: His wand, a chocolate bar, his favorite quill, a flask of water, and his class schedule cause he forgets them very often.

Lucky Amulets: A feather from his mom and another from his dad that he can wear on his hair and does on special occasions.

Best Friends

His sister, but as I did for her, I want to write their relationship in another post.

Aspen: Not only his cousin but also one of his best friends. Their personalities clash, her being outspoken and feral, and him being softer and more collected, yet they can't live without each other. He considers himself her protector, but from how savvy she is, it's her who ends up protecting him most times.

Boy!Rowan: His first Hufflepuff friend having met at the Hogwarts Express on their first ride. Rowan is his best friend and partner in crime. They usually spend time reading, walking open fields, and helping his sister with her plans of finding the cursed vault. Rowan supports him with tests and homework when his personal life gets overwhelming.

Chiara: They easily bond after he finds out her secret about being a werewolf, and they share support and help in times of instability. They like going out on picnics and to watch the creatures in the reserve. They actually enjoy dueling each other for fun, it's cute.

Penny: His first crush while still a boy in Hogwarts, he enjoys her company from her confidence and overall bright personality. Despite growing out of his affection for her, they're still good friends and enjoy each other's company. He offers a comforting shoulder when her relationship with her sister gets tricky.

Diego: He and Diego take a long time until they officially hit it off. Diego's personality being too grandiose and extroverted for Phoenix's taste. But as soon as he discovers that Aspen has a mad crush on him, goes out of his way to find out more about him, not trusting him to be a proper suitor for her. Despite his opinions, with time, their relationship evolves into a sincere friendship from Diego's good humor and adventurous heart.

Badeea: The one person he never thought he'd be friends with considering her intellectual (Ravenclaw-like) demeanor and collected attitude. But one day, when she gathers the courage to call him to pose for one of her paintings, he finds out she shared the exact same thoughts about him. Their friendship is quiet-like and profound, they share their thoughts about recent reads and go stargazing.

Orion: He first interacts with Orion when his sister joins the Gryffindor quidditch team and never he would've guessed how much Orion would mean to him. But with time he learns that Orion's presence is a suave and soothing one, and when he confronts Orion about how he can be that way, he decides to guide him into spiritual and mental balance. They meditate, chill and bond over shared experiences -- both being orphans, cool-headed, and deeply compassionate people.

Dormmates: It's him, Rowan, Diego, and two muggle-born boys, Lance and Edward, through which they learn a lot from the muggle world.

Academics

Favorite Classes:

History of Magic (when his friends are teaching)

Herbology

Ancient Runes*

Divination

Least Favorite:

Potions

Arithmancy

Favorite Professor: Minerva McGonagall. She's just so thoughtful and poise, the coolest animagus and the most powerful witch he knows.

Least Favorite: Snape for obvious reasons. He doesn't hate Snape but he also rather not be in his presence in potions class.

Quidditch: He cheers for Gryffindor when his sister is playing against the other houses, but his allegiance is to Hufflepuff. Imagine his excitement when Cedric Diggory joined the team and came down slaying with his abilities.

Yum,yum my Hufflepuffy boy, I love him. Can't wait to get into more detail about his past and romantic relationships.

[iguessishouldbethankful]

what do you think the sf team does in their free time? like... when they have a "day off" and get to relax? ♥️🐦

You ask me this and you don’t specify which generation of the team. SMH. Lmao I know you meant the current main one but I feel the need to kinda explore a little with all three gens? Let’s see how this goes.

Star Fox 1st Generation: (of note, it’s interesting how all of them but Pigma had established families)

James McCloud - Smoker, suave, not as energetic as his wigmate, Peppy. And yet, he had enough in him to keep following his friend around. But honestly, James interested were more quiet and work oriented. A workaholic. Mind always on the team and the responsibilities he took on. Almost a complete perfectionist with a calming nature. His hobbies outside of work were few, and most were made with spending time with Peppy, Beltino, Pigma, the Greys and their families. Forming a taste for alcoholic beverages with Peppy, and appreciating the retro military look of space ships with Pigma, and the techno babbles of Beltino. Honestly, it still surprises him that he was able to find a wonderful wife in the end considering how work oriented he was, and focused. Vixy was possibly the only thing that kept him focused outside of work the most until she passed away. Then it was just Fox. And their times together were mostly focused on military history, documentaries, a continuous path of learning and studying. It was fulfilling and relaxing for James.

Peppy Hare - A much younger Peppy would be a spry little thing. More in shape, physically stronger and beaming to high heavens. And of course, a young husband and father like James. For his free time, besides catching up with the Toads and the Greys, Peppy would usually just spend time with Vivian and little Lucy. Before them, he was mostly into bar hopping with James around Corneria’s capital. Dancing with the single ladies and flirting. He was much better at it than James, honestly. He’s also a really good dancer. But once he tied the knot with Vivian and had Lucy, his world became just the two of them outside of work. He’d take them to picnics and spoil both with flowers and stories and nothing but his time to give to them. He’d even read his newspaper out loud so Lucy would know what the subjects were. She loved the voices he’d make. His family was everything…

Pigma Dengar - First time I’m thinking about this fool before he went to the dark side. And honestly, I can easily see him being more relaxed on his own. In the hangar after a hard day’s work upgrading Arwings with Beltino’s help. A good pack of cigarettes, a deck of cards, a handful of dice or maybe online gaming to keep his mind off things. Hell, I still see him being the kind of guy that would sit down with the kids and show them how to gamble honestly. Fox, Lucy, Slippy and Bill… And both Bill and Lucy remember the nasty little betting tricks too. Pigma was very much into gambling and taking bets on his off time too. He would get a lot of money, lose a lot of it, but in the early stages, it calmed him. Working on older models of ships helped him too. It’s rather unfortunate that this is where Lucy got some of her fascination for old model space ships, because of the magazines and books Pigma would let her look at. Modding was a big part of his younger life and he enjoyed that before joining the team. It… went away when things got worse.

Beltino Toad - I headcanon that, even if Beltino wasn’t part of the team, he was still a very important external force that helped out a lot. Especially with Pigma. So I will count him into my headcanon piece. He’s into making little machine toys. Like making little machine creatures and devices. To him, it keeps his mind sharp and there is always a new project on his table to go home to that isn’t an all consuming one. In fact, it’s one he could share with Slippy when he was old enough to walk. It helped with the two of them bonding and getting into other geeky stuff. Hell, Beltino was the type of father that would get into anything Slippy wanted to get into, so after that, he was a goner. Trading card games to video games, even modding them on the computer and making his own became his hobby as much as Slippy’s. In a way, spending time with his family was his way to relax.

Star Fox 2nd Generation:

Fox McCloud - I see Fox as being rather similar to his father in many ways. At first, he didn’t have as many hobbies that were formed on his own. Most of them were things he got into with his friends, Slippy, Bill and Lucy. With Slippy, he actually tried watching some of the cartoons but instead he was into more live action fighters (similar to Power Rangers). And with Lucy, he got into model kits of space ships. He has a few still. Whereas with Bill, he got into sports like baseball and handball. Hell, all four of them were into playing against each other in any game. But once his father died, Fox became more sullen and quiet. His interests were more work focused with the occasional gaming with Slippy. His shell started to break after the war however. So gaming is something he’s into now, as well as reckless space racing which, much to Peppy’s dismay, is something he got into with Falco. And meditation. That he learned with Krystal.

Falco Lombardi - This bird has no chill. Joking, he does. Falco’s free time is dictated by what he feels like doing. Besides trying to not be the worst gamer in the team–and that doesn’t exactly relax him at all but he keeps doing it. But what he does enjoy is watching cartoons with Slippy. Funny enough, they both have an unofficial established bond over ‘anime’ series such as Dino Ball Z and Sailor Papetoon. Something about the sailors legs, man… Ahem. But out of everything, Falco is into anything that will give him a sudden rush. Flying for any reason, races, pushing his own limits in the cockpit. And outside of his Arwing, well… Falco is reckless due to him wanting that rush continuously. From bar fights to even amusement park rides. Not the best of hobbies, to want to feel the danger behind his actions, but it’s something he became addicted to in a way. Staying cooped up somewhere will only make him more aggressive due to ‘my thoughts won’t stop, I need to drown them’ so he needs to keep moving.

Peppy Hare - In comparison to his younger self, a much older Peppy is much more sullen. Quiet, always looking after the younger team. His free time is usually dictated by what he needs to show them–trying to find the patience to guide them when anything sparks off. But when things are quiet, he finds himself mostly contacting old friends such as Beltino and Pepper, especially after Vivian passed away. Sometimes he’d contact Lucy, ask her how the cadets are doing, how she is doing. However such things aren’t as often as him sitting down with either Fox or Falco to chat with them. And even then, strangely, he seems to bond a little more with Falco at times, taking the time to pry open the avian. Why? Just a hunch. They have quite a bit in common without either of them knowing. He’s also very much fond of tea. Don’t bitch at him about his leaf water, leave him be!!

Slippy Toad - Listen here. Slippy is a bucket of hobbies. When he’s not working on machinery, making new inventions for his team, guess what he’s doing? This guy is making games on his computer for fun, testing them with Falco on the side (because he knows the difficulty curve Falco secretly needs to get shit done in a game, and if Falco is able to complete a task, the games is way too easy). When not making or playing games, he is having forum/server discussions with some of his online friends about cartoons and shows he’s into. He will actually share this with Falco a lot if it’s something the avian is into as well. He will also get into online trading card games and goes into bidding wars over certain real cards that are mega vintage. He also has a toy figure collection he keeps around in his dorm on the Great Fox (most of them are at home with his dad though). He’s also into music. All of the music that slaps in the Great Fox? That’s all Slippy. Bless him. Lastly, one more thing. He owns a ukelele. He knows how to play it. That is actually the mostly relaxing thing he can do for himself when he does feel absolutely anxious. Just sit somewhere quiet, away from everyone and string away.

Krystal - She’s a bit more simple in comparison. Used to living on her own in the wilderness, most of her free time consists of returning to Sauria to help restore the planet as much as she can. Empathy work is also something she truly enjoys doing when the recipient permits her to do so. So far, Fox and Slippy permitted her to work on some of their mental wounds. And yes, taught Fox how to meditate and relax in the silence as she found out Fox was never comfortable being alone. Out of the entire team, she’s possibly the one that’s most comfortable being herself.

Star Fox 3rd Generation:

Marcus McCloud - Unlike his father and his grandfather, Marcus is actually much more active when it comes to fun. A bit of a sports jock when in school and the Academy, he very much enjoys exercise to keep himself in shape and to keep his mind off things that can get under his skin. He enjoys gaming as well, but nothing compares to Skipper and Abby. Still better than Falco though, lmao.

Abigail Hare - Possibly the edgiest out of the team. She’s into reading books because of her mother, Lucy, and most of them are dark and spooky. Why? No dad, it’s not a phase. She also enjoys cartoons and is into retro space ships like Lucy (and got to drag her father into it as well). Now, the one thing her and her little brother, Valentino Hare, share in hobbies is that they both are actual super into healthy foods. This is mostly due to the shared rabbit disease passed down by mothers in Vivian’s bloodline. After Lucy passed away, Falco helped his kids to get into a much better diet and it became a shared thing between all three.

Skipper Toad - The oldest of the Toad siblings. He had to fight his way to stay relevant and boy, he’s merciless when it comes to his energy. Non stop, naturally caffeinated young man. From video games to schematics for lunch, to learning how to hack into different systems and databases to get information in a more proactive manner, he’s pretty much into many things that keeps him busy all the time.

Falco Lombardi - Like Peppy, he’s much older now, mellowed out, widower and a father of two. Abigail is his oldest, Valentino is his youngest (and that one stays on Corneria under the watchful eye of General Peppy). Ever since Lucy passed on, he’s been much more attached to his kids than ever, constantly checking on Valentino while with the team, and making sure the new team is able to stand on it’s own two feet. He finds it amusing how he’s the ‘gramps’ now, even though he still gets guidance from Peppy along the way. Sometimes Fox as well, but most of their conversations are just casual updates on how the new generation is doing. Honestly, he’s still kind of reckless, mostly to keep Marcus on his toes and to teach Abigail how to fly much better than what the Academy taught her. Honestly, the new team itself is his free time. He’d trade his place in there for nothing in the universe.

[drops-of-moonlights]

Winx AU Detailing XVI - Just Screaming about the Winx

by which I mean, some general facts/headcanons for the girls in my AU.

Bloom

I’ve mentioned she’s into archery once or twice already, but might as well make it clearer - she started doing it shortly after turning 13, and was good enough to even consider getting a scholarship through archery in a faraway university. Her aim is pretty good as a result, and fills the role of the sniper in the team.

Her fire powers are interesting in that her flames have a pale pink color rather than the standard red/gold hue fire has - meaning her fire has traces of lithium chloride. Most magi produce either red/gold or blue fire, and anomalies in color, while technically common, are still a sight to behold.

She sometimes forgets Daphne is technically 21 years older than her even if they look like they’re just 3 years apart, and whenever Daphne mentions her “technically actual” age she ends up disassociating for a few minutes.

Flora

If it wasn’t because it’s her Source, Flora would have killed half her plants already, she has a very bad case of black thumb. She forgets to water them often and to manage the sunlight they need well, so she ends up keeping them alive via magic 6 times out of 7. A few of her vocal plants kinda hate her, and she has a feud with Cecilia the vainatossa, essentially blackmailing her with constant care routines.

She has quite the affinity for avians, and has a small group of birds in her balcony visit her from time to time for snacks. She likes to have small chats with them, and even helped make a makeshift nest for them so they can nap a bit with her.

She doesn’t look like it, but Flora does like the thrill that comes with battle even if she tries to avoid them more than often. She has a lot of patience that just disolves when fighting, so she can get reckless after a while and end up hurting herself badly.

Stella

This girl has some bad, bad myopia, so without her glasses or her contacts she can barely distinguish a person from a drawer. When transformed, she uses her magic to temporarily adjust her eyes to allow her to discern things more clearly, though it does remain slightly blurry.

She actually handsews most of her projects unless they’re too long or complicated, and she has an impressive pulse and rhythm when doing it. She also loves knitting, but prefers sewing more since it’s somewhat faster. Her now retired maid slash babysitter when she was little, Lucina, taught her to do so when one of her dolls’ dresses ripped apart, and it’s one of her most treasured memories.

She’s actually known Riven since they were kids - they went to the same school together and shared some classes (though he knew her as Camila at first). They’re both really into fashion (though Riven wouldn’t admit that at first glance) and where part of a small friend group of them and Nova. He’s one of the two people allowed to call her Cami, but chooses not to to keep a promise he made with her when they both started Alfea and RF respectively.

Musa

After her mother passed away, she and her family entered some difficult times monetary-wise, and while they certainly made enough to eat, with both Huan and Jian working at the same time (and Musa herself taking up some part-time jobs as well) there wasn’t much time to make food, even less eat it. family dinners became scarce, so she values homemade food a lot. She dislikes food going cold as well because of this, and will rip people a new one if they let their food go cold. This, however, gave her a really good cooking ability.

She’s very good at playing both guitar and flute, and can get a handle somewhat on most wind and string instruments, but she’s utterly hopeless with drums and percussion in general. She lacks the patience for it, and while she can do a decent rhythm, it falls off pretty fast and it frustrates her to no end.

She has a close relationship with her maternal family, but hasn’t really sought out contacting her father’s side. Huan’s family is one of the most influential in Melodius, with some members being politicians. He had a fallout with them after marrying Marina and have remained in a sort-of feud ever since. Musa considers them mostly just stuck-up rich people, and is happy she carries her mother’s surname.

Tecna

She’s actually the most affectionate of all the girls, a good listener and great at jokes. It’s just that her tone is almost a perpetual monotone that people can’t tell if she’s sarcastic or not. She’s the first one to always suggest group hugs after a big battle and to outsiders it can look awkward at first.

She has a kinda bad habit of taking apart and rebuilding a lot of electronics she has and some she doesn’t to know exactly what to do to fix them properly with magic later. It’s kind of a lengthy process however, and her room can sometimes be covered in circuit boards and plastic parts. She has also run into some trouble with the other girls, like the time she took one of Musa’s keyboards. No one knows what really happened but Musa will never forget “The Sound of Hamster Rage”, whatever that means. Musa doesn’t want to tell the story and Tecna always ends up laughing.

Tecna doesn’t really care much about eating much, she likes food fine enough but doesn’t think too much of it at large. She does love drinks though, and is kind of a dangerous coffee nut. She can brew some really good coffee too, and she’s the girls’ energy dispenser during all-night cram sessions. One time she took too much coffee though, and ended up sleeping for 3 days. It was an experience for the rest.

Aisha

While her swimming abilities are really good (comes with being part mermaid), she’s a pretty weak runner, and kinda gets winded really fast. She has really good stamina, but doesn’t know how to pace herself well on land and it ends up with her lightly pulling something during training.

Due to being part-mer, she gets dehydrated pretty easily, so she always carries a water bottle with her. She does also like to tap into the humidity around her to help her stay well, but it can be difficult sometimes when there’s a lot of people around her since she gets slightly nervous.

She’s an avid reader of several novels, and has a weakness for adventure stories and romance books. She has a whole stash of them in a small pile near her bed, and likes to rotate them every other week. She’s also a pretty fast reader, however, so sometimes it can take her just a day or two to consume entire sagas, and it bothers her a lot. Bloom shares the same passion for it, however, so she ends up lending Bloom her books when she finishes them and like to discuss them once she finishes them. They end up disagreeing about many things about the books and it can end up in a snark-off, but they both enjoy having someone to talk about the stuff.

[etlunainmorte]

✒ P.S. I Love You ✒

***

III

***

"It's him again. Poor guy must be really nervous right now." Avery strode towards the front door and before she could leave, she turned to them once more. "Make yourself at home, I insist." She, then, gave them an awkward smile as she opened the door and went out. "If you can,..."

And with those words, Avery finally left them inside that very cold mansion.

"That's very hospitable." Nico muttered after seemingly an eternity later of just her and V staring at the door. She, then, turned towards V and punched him ( playfully ) in the shoulder. "Hey, what's the plan?"

The tattooed poet threw his cane, caught it, and slammed it several times against his left palm. He gave the woman a sideways glance and smirked. "I'll see what I can find here on the first floor. I noticed,... something strange,... a while ago."

"Okay, gotcha. I'm just gonna get something in the van. Some things I prepared for the mission." The woman made her way to the door and as she was about to come out, she winked at V and gave him a thumbs up. "See ya."

V watched as the freckled Artisan swiftly made her way out, and when she was finally gone, he turned and -

He felt his heartbeat halt once more for a split second as he came face to face with the same boy he saw earlier.

And this time, he was unblinkingly staring at him right in the eye.

V felt his hair stand on end again and the cold creep unto his skin. The way the boy stared at him with those wide, muddy colored eyes and that distinct frown on his pale face,...

... it's as if he was searching for something beyond his eyes. It was like he was appraising his very own soul and being.

But, why?

"How can I be of service to you?" V graciously and patiently asked the boy. After a few seconds, the young one only abruptly turned away from him and hastily went back to the kitchen. And this action only led V to follow him,...

"Hey, V,..." All of a sudden, his demonic avian familiar, Griffon, materialized, his talons immediately taking hold of his shoulders, seemingly in caution. "Be careful 'round this place. I don't feel so good in here! It's like I'm bein' strangled! A - and,... it feels like this house is drainin' my energy!"

"I know." V answered at the same time his demonic feline familiar Shadow materialized.

"See? Even the house cat could feel it! Look at her!" And what Griffon said was true: the moment Shadow materialized, her eyes lit up in caution as the red marks on her jet black fur appeared. She was baring her fangs at something at the top of the stairs, and V could not even see what it was she was being angry at.

No. The way she was acting and the way her skin pulsated like she was ready to attack an any given time: V felt like Shadow was being threatened by something.

But, what?

"I have to go after that boy." He decided. "And I have to find out the cause of all this,... strangeness."

"Okay, Shakespeare. Ya know the drill," Griffon gave his little pep talk as his master made his way towards the kitchen. "You and I like to exist, so get rid of that ghost real quick, cause killin' it aint my schtick ( mainly 'cause we can't even kill ghosts )! Sorry if I don't get yer back, 'cause this whole place is just whack!"

V smirked at his familiar's quip and calmly searched for the boy. He found him right there, in the huge room, talking to someone. It was an elderly woman dressed entirely in what looked like the family's maroon uniform for servants like her. And the moment the boy realized that V has managed to follow him, he quickly ran away and went outside towards the opposite side.

"Pardon my,... intrusion." V began as calmly as he could so as not to frighten Avery's elderly housekeeper. "I came here by your lady's request for a special,... commission."

"My,... lady?" The old woman croaked.

V watched with wary eyes as the old woman faced him. And as her kind, gentle, and yet, restless, features finally registered, the tense feeling on his shoulders vanished altogether as he finally relaxed for the first time since entering the cold mansion.

The woman's eyes widened as if she was so shocked upon seeing him. If it weren't for the genuine smile she showed him, V would've felt conflicted upon making her teary eyed for a seemingly unknown reason.

"You must be the man our lady chose."

"To tell you the truth, I was not her first choice."

"Oh, why? Pray tell."

"She considered me,... upon being rejected by the man she,... originally chose,... for this job."

"Oh." The slight frown on the woman's face disappeared as it was replaced once again with her kind and gentle smile. "If you were not originally chosen as you've said, then it must be fate that brought you here, young master."

V chuckled as he shook his head. "I see. Then, I' am obliged to tell you that my companion doesn't believe in things such as fate."

"The young lady does."

V noticed the clear sadness in the way the old housekeeper said those words, and before he could even muse about it any further, she gave a slight bow and motioned for one of the chairs. "If you should take a seat, then I would gladly tell you everything I know. My name is Maria, and I have served the (L/N) household for as long as I could remember."

"Madam Maria. You can call me V." The poet returned the courteous gesture as he introduced himself.

Maria giggled as she waved him off with one hand. "Just Maria is fine, young master."

"Then, call me V,... and not young master."

"Very well! Very well! Please! Take a seat and make yourself at home. I'm making some muffins for dinner, and we have some to spare for you and your pets without ruining your appetite."

As V settled on one of the chairs facing the long wooden table, he watched the movements of the old lady as she prepared the muffins. And as he admired her hard work and effort by preparing the food and for serving the household for as long as she could in general, he couldn't help but wonder why she hasn't retired yet, given her old age.

"Hey, V," Griffon, who was still clinging unto V's shoulders with his talons, whispered. "... that cute little old lady is not even afraid of us! Is she even alright? Ya know, in the head?"

"Now, now, that is a very rude way of addressing our,... host." V answered as Shadow finally calmed down and settled next to his feet.

"Here we go. Have as much as you can. You would need all the energy you could get." Maria offered the huge plate of muffins before V, and after doing that, she settled on the chair opposite him.

"Thank you, Maria."

"Always happy to serve the lady's guests."

V looked at the scrumptious looking treats and felt it was rude to refuse, so he took one, split it in two and gave one to Griffon, who simply gobbled it without a moment's hesitation. The bird chewed as fast as he could and swallowed with much gusto, the gulping sound he made slightly embarrassing V. He, then, split the remaining half in two and offered one to Shadow underneath the table. Only then did he finally take a bite of the warm and fluffy treat.

It was,... so good.

Maria was eagerly watching V through all this, looking as though she hasn't fed someone in many years.

Which reminded him,...

"You mentioned you have served the (L/N) household for as long as you can remember. I assume it is Avery's mother's family, then?" V asked, the muffin he just took from the plate being swiftly stolen by Griffon, who seemed famished to the bone.

But, Maria didn't answer. Instead, she just held out a brave, trembling hand to pet Shadow. "The young lady used to own a cat. It was dark in color, just like this one. She used to call it Luna."

"Oh, I see." V answered, his fingers almost bitten by Griffon, who took, yet, another muffin from his hand. "This is Shadow."

"Hello, Shadow! It's so nice to meet you." Maria greeted. And to V and Griffon's surprise, the demonic feline squinted her eyes in a gesture that successfully told them she approved of the elderly housekeeper to pet her. Maria didn't waste any time and scratched her behind the ears right away. "She used to hide it from the master, since he didn't allow her to have pets. I remember I have to steal food from the cupboard for little Luna while the young lady hides her in the library. But, of course, the master heard all the mewling. So, the young lady had to part with her, the poor thing."

Who knew Avery was a cat person? "Hmm, it must've saddened Ms. Avery as a young girl. To part with a beloved companion."

Again, Maria didn't answer. This time, she was busy feeding Shadow.

V sighed. He knew he must be patient due to Maria's old age, so he took a mental note of this and proceeded.

"About this,... job,..." V carefully began, ignoring Griffon as he tried to steal another muffin from the plate. "Have you,... noticed anything,... a little,... strange,... lately?"

"Oh, good heavens! I forgot the tea. My mistake, dear. Let me get it for you."

V couldn't help but watch again as Maria stood to fetch the beverage, and when she returned with the pot containing the aromatic liquid and started pouring some for both him and her, he asked once more.

"Anything at all? Like,...sounds, or voices, or - "

"Here." Maria said as she offered V a cup of tea.

"Thank you. Any clue could help us with the investigation - "

"Oh, how time flies,..." Maria mused loudly as she settled back on her own chair to drink her tea. "When you're in here, you never actually notice the time. You sit down with a book in your hand in the morning, and when you get up, it's already twilight. Time flies,... indeed."

V looked at her, wondering whether all aging women were like her, and tried, one more time, to ask her regarding the haunting in the household.

"Are there any restless spirit around here?" V just got straight to the point.

"And sometimes, you sit down with a cup of tea, and next thing you know, a whole week has already passed by."

V inhaled sharply through his nostrils and finally gave up on questioning Maria. He decided to just do the investigation alone and without her cooperation. After all, grandmothers don't do well with creepy experien -

"The thing you seek lies right above us. And with it, all the answers you would need to get yourself out of this labyrinth you involuntarily got lost in the moment you stepped inside this house." Maria spoke in a very vague tone after sipping her tea. She put the cup down on the table and leaned closer to V, too close, in fact, that he was getting really uncomfortable with it. Her breath, which smelled of earl grey, assaulted his nostrils, but what unnerved V the most were her dull - looking gray eyes. As if she's,...

"Or was it voluntary? You don't believe in fate, do you, young master?" Maria asked, allowing V to catch a glimpse of her yellow teeth,...

And so, it was with utter bewilderment when he finally got the chance to untangle himself from Maria's scrutinizing gaze and made his way back to the entrance hall where Nico was already preparing all her things. And by the time he got back, the place was already filled with all sorts of wires, gadgets, and weird things from left to right.

"Dude, where have ya been?!" Nico questioned, seemingly irritated for no reason, at all.

"I was talking to the housekeeper." It was the truth.

"Huh. Ye really like that housekeeper, don't ya? To think you talked with someone for six full hours." Nico scratched her head in confusion. "I thought ya ditched me here, man. You scared me."

Six hours.

Six.

Full.

Hours.

He was gone for that long?! But, it only felt like an hour, even just minutes,...

Then, V remembered what Maria told him earlier:

Oh, how time flies,...

Time,... flies,...

... indeed.

***

✒ @la-vita and @micaelagua . ✒

***

✒✒✒

***

[childoftimeandmagic]

Burning for You

Klaroline AU Week 2019 is here, catch me sneaking this in under the wire. Thank you @itsnotacrimetoloveyou for getting my author juices flowing again. 

Read on AO3 

               Growing up when giants walked the earth Caroline often felt older than she truly was. That being said being reborn often made her feel exactly her age. Stranding slowly, her head fuzzy with the details, she glanced around her store and groaned. The scorched tile and ashes of where her store had been made sense. Feeling her chest, she felt the healing wound on her chest. Bullet wound, wood by the fact she’d rebirthed so quickly. Humans had the most entertaining toys to play with, holding out her hand she absorbed the residual flames and heat back into her body. If anyone had been around to notice it, they would have seen the briefest glimpse of fiery wings rising behind the naked blonde.

           Taking a deep breath, she started moving through the rubble of her jewelry store for anything of value to take with her. Since she’d most likely be considered dead from a mysterious fire, it was time to leave Mystic Falls. After recovering a hundred pieces of gold and silver gemstone encrusted pieces, she took a deep breath and in a swirl of blue fire disappeared from the rubble, just as sirens started to pour in.

           Unbeknownst to Caroline someone had been watching her stumble through her former store. Someone who had been looking for the being that couldn’t be killed by a weapon of man nor flame of the gods. A man who was bent on controlling or killing the powerful beings in creation. Someone who believed himself to be the most powerful creature to walk the earth. Klaus Mikaelson stalked from the shadows across the Mystic Falls square his suspicion confirmed.

           People had murmured his entire immortal life of the powers of rejuvenation and destruction a Phenix controlled. A nice bedtime story for those who needed a miracle or a plea of vengeance. Then the alters had started popping up, about six hundred years ago or so. Whispers saying that if one left a vibrant gemstone, or something of equal beauty the Auroral Phenix would answer their prayer. Klaus had dismissed it as the blithering tales of human’s hell bent on praying for anyone to save them or protect them.

           Then his minions had started pouring in stories of villages being burned down the day after an opal or precious stone had been left at one of these alters in the woods. Soon more stories came in of the sick miraculously healing. Abusers of women and children, catching fire spontaneously while walking through the town after a doll from a little girl or toy cart from a little boy had been left with pleas for help. Yet no one saw anything but a burst pretty petite blonde near the location of every occurrence. Soon his interest was piqued, Rebekah and Elijah had amused his curiosity to an extent.

           Caroline reappeared five thousand miles away in her villa ruins of Despotiko. While she could have reappeared anywhere, her family home was were her body always pulled following a rebirth, over the last two thousand years she’d given up on resisting the pull. Despotiko was protected and a national archaeological site for the Greeks. Whether or not they’d ever actually owned it or not was of little matter at this point, the ancient history of man and nymphs lost to time. Once islands across the Mediterranean had been known to be sanctuaries for the children of the gods. Walking through the broken pillars to where she could look out over the bay, she closed her eyes.

           Lots of mythos surrounded her people but, in the end, she was the last one left. Shapeshifting hadn’t protected them as much as Helios and Hephaestus had hoped. Man was a cruel race willing to destroy anything it didn’t feel it could control or conquer adequately. Rolling her shoulders, she walked over to her mother’s chest, that she had here masked by magic and careful misdirection. There were sentimental things, like her mother’s molting plumage which never faded, an aquamarine pendent in the shape of a tear, as well as practical things like clothes and weapons. Grabbing her gear, she got dressed quickly. Placing the gems and jewelry she’d recovered from the remnants of Rising Jewelers ashes into the box she placed her hands on the chest and said a prayer to her father to protect her from whatever was chasing her.

She like her mother, was child of an air nymph and the sun god Helios. Nymphs who bore a Phenix didn’t survive the birth, so most Phenix’s lived with an older member of the flock until maturity which was between six hundred and eight hundred years old. While they rarely stayed in human forms, their avian forms in the end had been their undoing.

As humans had realized that they were demi-gods or the grandchildren of a titan and a being of Gia, the desire to control grew. Phenix’s could neither be controlled or tamed, they also couldn’t be recreated through interbreeding. Then the age of iron had come, and with-it man’s weapons grew stronger. Unbeknownst to her flock or her father, to prevent them from growing too strong, Zeus had cursed his cousin’s children to be burned by the touch of iron. As such they could only be killed by iron through the heart or brain.

While man had destroyed her culture 1200 years ago, her god father had spirited her away from the blood bath and placed her with cousin Hephaestus in the volcanic chasms underground until she’d reached maturity of six hundred years old. Carolina as she’d been known then had trained as a jewel smith under her god cousin, who was amazed at her ability to focus and her attention to details.

The old gods slumbered now though, their worshipers far and in-between, not enough to keep them awake. Caroline drifted through the world of man taking time to help innocents here and there. Caroline missed her flock often especially after a traumatic rebirth, but life moved on and with time so did she. Man was impressionable though and with a few well-placed whispers and alters popping up on every continent she thrived.

 She pulled a replacement phone from the chest and plugged in the password to unlock it. Walking around the ruins of her old life, she ran a security check on her various properties across the globe. Everything was fine except her store front in New Orleans. Rolling her eyes, she zoomed in on who was sitting on her counter. Niklaus Mikaelson. He had been sniffing after her tail feathers for six centuries. Still her deal with Kol Mikaelson not to engage with his older brother was the reason; why his overzealous murder happy brother wasn’t a crispy critter her to consume.

Growling low in her throat, she felt the fire rise within her. Taking multiple deep breaths didn’t keep her phantom flame wings from unfurling behind her, scorching the points of her shirt where her real wings would have come out of her back. Spinning on her heel she walked back to the chest and grabbed her favorite leather jacket. If Klaus Mikaelson wanted to fuck with her, he was about to find out that getting too close to an open flame got you eaten by the last daughter of the sun.

  Klaus was hoping that his minion wasn’t wrong otherwise he was sitting in gorgeous jewelry store that had been closed for five years. In fact, the store according to his minion had closed the day after he and his siblings had returned home. Klaus looked around the store from his spot on the counter impressed with the amount of gold and gems left just sitting on display. Was this woman really so powerful that she felt comfortable leaving such expensive things behind in her absence.

“You know getting ass sweat off of glass is a lot harder than people assume,” a crystal voice startled him out of his thoughts, “get off the furniture hybrid.”

Spinning he looked for the source of the voice, standing behind him was the slight blonde beauty who’d burned and the reformed in the rubble of a small-town jewelry store four nights previous. “So, you aren’t a myth?”

“No very much real now if you want to continue to terrorize your section of the supernatural realm, I suggest you leave now,” the blonde replied, barely looking at him. In fact, it looked almost like she was bored. Snarling he flashed forward only to meet heat and smoke. Turning on his heel he froze as he felt a burning pain on his back. “I told you to leave Mikaelson.”

“I’ve been looking for you,” he breathed through the pain trying to ignore the searing pain that burst forth from her hand on his back.

“You have hmmm, I don’t remember you calling me up or sending me a message on twitter,” she pushed more heat through her hand feeling the flesh start to burn under her hand, the shirt long gone.

“I didn’t think you’d take me call.” he wheezed flashing away finally giving up all pretense that it didn’t hurt to feel her touch.

“Oh, but breaking into one of my stores seemed much smarter,” Caroline was growing impatient. The predator in her wanted to eat him in one gulp, people forgot that some birds weren’t herbivores. She felt the fire from her hand itch to come out and play.

“I wanted to know if the stories were true, if you were the Auroral Phenix incarnate,” he said, shifting his shirt off to look at the scorch marks her hand had left. Only the marking looked more claw than fingered.

“So why not just ask, one apex predator to another?” she asked, looking around her store, and Klaus paused.

Up close he was amazed there weren’t more stories of how beautiful this blonde woman was. Eyes that made him feel he was staring into the deepest pools of water, and hair that could only be described as spun gold. “I never heard tale of a Phenix’s kill, or destruction until you started burning whole villages down as you pleased.”

“It’s not my fault man built their homes out of such flammable material, if they couldn’t handle a little heat then they shouldn’t beat their wives or children,” Caroline stated, as though the thought of not burning down a tinder box of a wooden home hadn’t occurred to her. She was working ridiculously hard at focusing on his ches-no eyes. God why did immortality tend to happen to the only physically gifted individuals of the world.

“So you only ever burned down villages of people who deserved it?” Klaus asked, stepping closer.

“Sometimes a rebirth went wrong, or my heart too heavy to contain my flame,” Caroline sighed, she was growing bored.

“It’s true though, all the stories about your kind though?” he asked, pushing closer when she made no move to stop him.

“Depends on what you’ve heard, though I doubt any of it was actually correct.”

“You don’t cry healing tears, nor journey to the ends of the world to die and be reborn?”

“Maybe yes, but maybe no,” Caroline answered, moving around her store looking to check if he’d stolen anything, always keeping one eye on the man in her store.

“Don’t play games girl,” he growled.

“Girl, that’s rich, I was in my first thousand years when your people hadn’t yet learned how to make swords.” Caroline spun on him so quick he felt off kilter. In a thousand years he’d never met anything or one who made him feel weak. Her hair glowing an almost auburn kind of gold, the color of molten metal. “Either tell me what the great Hybrid wants with me or be gone!”

“Madam,” he cleared his throat. “I merely thought that us powerful creatures should get to know one another better.”

“Bullshit, those words might work with the witches, and fae queens you’re used to dealing with, but my magic is older than the magic of man and far less forgiving Niklaus Mikaelson,” Caroline felt her body aching to change and devour the abomination before her. Stealing the monster inside herself she remembered the teachings of her mother and her people.

“It’s actually my sister Rebekah, she’s been poisoned by something and withers away day by day, I was looking for you because Kol told us that only you could save her,” he relented, stepping back.

“You came to ask a favor, or did you think you could force my hand Niklaus Mikaelson?” she said, eyebrow arched as flame wings glinted behind her reflecting off the gold and silver pieces hanging around the store.

Klaus was at a loss for words, if this was her half transformed, with wings of flame, it belied a beautiful creature in her natural form. He could see shades of reds, blues, and yellows, rippling over her hair and through the flames behind her. “I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”

“Bring me the thing you value most and I’ll give you the gift to save your sister,” she said, stalking forward and holding her hand out to him. Taking it, he hissed as the heat seared his palm. Pulling away he saw a scar on his palm in the shape of swirling smoke.

When he looked up, he was alone on the roof top of One Shell Square, alone. Spinning around he saw a faint sparkle of something flying off into the night sky a thousand yards away from him. Growling he flashed home to see how Rebekah was faring in his absence.

 Two days passed and Klaus had not come back to her shop. She was calmer now, the heat of the rebirth finally worn off. Sighing she turned back to her styling and sculpting of the vial that she would use to hold her tears. A phenix’s tears gained their healing ability from the lost souls that they cried for. Crying allowed them to protect and preserve themselves and their flock outside of rebirth. Even if Klaus didn’t come back, she would leave the vial on Rebekah’s bedside. She need only drink the tears and all curses, maladies, and pain would leave her body.

Standing she walked to the garden outside her workroom, she knelt down and placed the vial at the center of the sundial design in the tile. Finally, she allowed herself to shift into her natural form. Deep red and yellow plumage spilled out as her bones thinned and shifted to become her real self. Shaking out her tail feathers, she let out a low mournful call, which startled every bird within a half mile out of their nests and into the sky.

Crying drops the color of molten gold, she angled her head so as the tears dripped down her face, they rolled off her beak and filled the vial below. She cried for all the women lost to anger, the children dead in the name of greed, and the loss of her family a millennium twice past. When the vial was full, and her heart felt as light as her bones she shook out her plumage and looked up into the sun which was highest in the sky.

“Thank you, father,” she silently prayed.

“Caroline?” he was here, curious she turned her head 180 degrees to look at him. Standing in the doorway of her work room was the hybrid empty handed. Cooing she looked at him eyes wide. Shifting back into her sun-dressed human form she shook off the few feathers that clung through the transformation. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a fairy princess transforming in a gust of wind and flame?”

“I tend to eat most beings who see me transform, so no,” Caroline said softly, looking up at him as she knelt to stopper the vial. “I believe the deal was what you value most, in exchange for your sisters cure.”

“I thought about this for two whole days Nix, and I couldn’t come up with anything,” he said slowly, “my sister actually figured it out first, you want me to give myself to you in exchange for her.”

“I wanted the offer, but I’ve never left a woman to suffer,” Caroline laughed, and tossed the vial to him.

“Dinner on the gulf?” he offered, snatching it deftly out of the air.

“Our pact is fulfilled,” she answered, walking over and leaning up to kiss his cheek lightly. “Don’t be late.”

[ruminativerabbi]

Walking

I’ve been writing about various topics in American history for these last few weeks, attempting to find in our understudied American past a reasonable path forward into our shared American future. But this week I thought I would go off in a different direction entirely.

Last week, a snowy owl appeared in Central Park. For some, this must have sounded at first like a non-event—the park, after all, is filled with birds! But the owl’s visit actually was remarkable, and in several different ways.

For one thing, the last time a snowy owl was spotted in New York City was apparently in 1890, a cool 131 years ago. (I’m speaking, of course, of living birds, not dead ones. In the latter category, there’s a stuffed snowy on display in the American Museum of Natural History on Central Park West that none other than the eighteen-year-old Theodore Roosevelt shot somewhere on Long Island in 1876. Nor is that one the Museum’s only stuffed snowy—they apparently own another twenty or so, but only the one shot by a future President is on permanent display.) For another, the owl hung around just long enough for  its presence to be noted and recorded, and then promptly vanished. In our world, celebrity is considered—at least by non-celebrities—a desirable status to be sought after rather than quickly fled. And yet, unlike most of Snowy’s avian predecessors among famous New York birds (long-time celebrity red-tailed hawk Pale Male, for example, who spent decades flying around in the Park when not ensconced at home with his chicks and his impressively long succession of mates on the roof of his adopted Fifth Avenue home), Snowy Owl spent a bit of time showing her (or his) stuff, then went off to wherever it is snowy owls hang out when they’re not attracting huge crowds of well-wishers in Central Park.

But for me personally, Snowy Owl—who didn’t even hang around long enough to be named by his admirers—was a visitor from a different part of my life.

When we moved from Germany to western Canada in 1986 so that I could serve in the first of my three pulpits, we basically had no idea at all what we were getting into. I would have googled British Columbia, but Google was only founded in 1998. Nor was the early version of the Internet that sort of did exist available for use by regular people like ourselves. I did check in our local branch of the Heidelberg public library to see what I could find, but they didn’t have much of a selection of books about Canada at all, let alone specifically about Vancouver or its environs. So we were left on our own to pack up and hope for the best. Eventually, we found our way, got used to a new set of daily norms, adjusted to living in a place where most people spoke English. We moved into a house. We bought a car. And we acquired a dog, a first for me if not for Joan. (The late and much lamented Hector was still a real, if ghostly, presence in Joan’s life when we first moved to Canada. But she was ready, or ready-ish, to move on and I was certainly ready to support the idea.)

And that dog—a succession of dogs, actually—brings me to the topic of snowy owls. I grew up in Queens. Owls were not in abundance. I remember my childhood mostly fondly, but Yellowstone Blvd. was not a place of great (or any) physical beauty. But now I actually was living in a place of almost unimaginably stunning physical splendor. (Tourism B.C. doesn’t use the slogan “Super, Natural British Columbia” for no reason.) I took to walking the dog along a path that meandered along the banks of the mighty Fraser, B.C.’s longest river. And it was there, at the bottom of No. 3 Road where a half-mile or so of the dyke walk was specifically designated for off-leash dog walking, that I met my first snowy owls.

Let me draw the picture just a bit more precisely. This is young me we’re conjuring up—I was all of thirty-three years old when we moved to B.C., younger than both my sons are today—and the dogs, serially, were all black labs. So here I am walking one of the dogs along the Fraser. To my right, seals are having a grand old time frolicking in the water. Across from the water, to my left, are huge pine trees featuring gigantic bald eagles’ nests in their crests. (I was born and raised an American, but have seen our national bird living in the wild—or at least not living in a zoo—only in Canada.) And in the lower branches, apparently unconcerned by the neighbors upstairs, were—depending on the season—a few or many snowy owls looking out at the world and thinking, I always imagined, how lucky they were to be owls and not dogs, eagles, or seals. Or, for all I knew, people.

I never really understood the concept of walking before I moved to B.C.  

Last week I wrote about a speech Lincoln gave at the Springfield Lyceum in 1838. So it was only thirteen years later that Henry David Thoreau gave a speech at the Concord Lyceum in Massachusetts that he eventually delivered another ten times in different venues and which was eventually published in The Atlantic in 1862. The speech was called, simply, “Walking.”

For Thoreau, walking was not just exercise, but a kind of conscious effort to leave civilization, represented by town and house, and step into Nature itself. He writes in his essay, “I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least—and it is commonly more than that—sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements. You may safely say, A penny for your thoughts, or a thousand pounds. When sometimes I am reminded that the mechanics and shopkeepers stay in their shops not only all the forenoon, but all the afternoon too, sitting with crossed legs, so many of them—as if the legs were made to sit upon, and not to stand or walk upon—I think that they deserve some credit for not having all committed suicide long ago.”

I suppose that’s clear enough. Maybe he’s being a bit harsh, but the author is just warming up. “Living much out of doors, in the sun and wind,” he goes on to observe, “will no doubt produce a certain roughness of character—will cause a thicker cuticle to grow over some of the finer qualities of our nature, as on the face and hands, or as severe manual labor robs the hands of some of their delicacy of touch. So staying in the house, on the other hand, may produce a softness and smoothness, not to say thinness of skin, accompanied by an increased sensibility to certain impressions. Perhaps we should be more susceptible to some influences important to our intellectual and moral growth, if the sun had shone and the wind blown on us a little less; and no doubt it is a nice matter to proportion rightly the thick and thin skin. But methinks that is a scurf that will fall off fast enough—that the natural remedy is to be found in the proportion which the night bears to the day, the winter to the summer, thought to experience. There will be so much the more air and sunshine in our thoughts. The callous palms of the laborer are conversant with finer tissues of self-respect and heroism, whose touch thrills the heart, than the languid fingers of idleness. That is mere sentimentality that lies abed by day and thinks itself white, far from the tan and callus of experience.”

There was a time in my life when I would have been incapable of understanding what Thoreau was trying to say. And then I moved to Canada and began to walk the same stretch of the dyke path for thirteen consecutive years. Day in and day out. The same path. The same river. The same trees. I would once have imagined that to be the most boring assignment possible. But it turns out Thoreau was completely right. And, indeed, as I walked through the years I noticed things Queens-me and Manhattan-me would have been incapable of noticing: the way alluvial mud smells slightly different in late fall and early spring, the way the pitch of frogs’ croaking rises during the springtime mating season, the way the activity level of seals, eagles, and owls changes as the temperature rises. We had many visitors too. From time to time, a vulture or an osprey would show up. One memorable time, a walrus made a brief appearance before vanishing into the waves. It was like living in the Wild Kingdom, except that my immersion in Thoreau’s writing allowed me to picture the experience not as a TV show that I had somehow stepped into, but as a time machine that had somehow propelled me back to Old Concord and allowed me to walk along with my silent but fully present partner, a man whose orientation towards nature and its mystic dimension became mine as well.

I loved the owls most of all. I knew their reputation as the wisest of birds and they seemed that way to me too, quietly sitting on their low boughs lost in thought, observing the world, taking it all in. When we finally left Canada for California, I took one final walk on the dyke with Harry, our final B.C. dog. The seals weren’t around. The eagles were off doing whatever they did when not perched atop the evergreens along the Fraser. But the snowy owls were there, watching us silently, bidding us farewell, saying nothing. And in saying nothing also saying everything and, at that, allowing Nature—which (or do I mean whom) Thoreau qualifies as our “vast, savage, howling mother”—to wish us Godspeed and good fortune on our journey into an uncharted future.

[dwsecretsanta]

Of Stars and Wolves

Of Stars and Wolves

Alright, so this is for the Doctor Who Secret Santa over on tumblr. @darklordpthalo, this is for you.

I don’t own Doctor Who or anything really. @darklordpthalo wanted a soulmate AU, a shapeshifter AU, or a kiss under the stars so the idea for this fic goes to them. I just ran with it. I hope they enjoy this.

Words: 6,625 Author: @magewriter

Shapeshifters always had soulmates. It was a universal fact. Admittedly, said soulmate was not always a shifter. Non-shifters had soulmates, but theirs were nowhere near as vitally important to their overall wellbeing as it was for shifters. Humans were seemingly perfectly happy to settle, even as obsessed as they were with soulmates. For them, it was only a matter of a completed image on their skin as a ‘soulmate’ for a normal human was not always a romantic mate. A shifter’s soulmate always was. There could be no other for them, not in that way.

That, however, was not a problem Rose Tyler ever thought she would have to worry about. Her entire family, from both parents as far back as anyone could remember, had always been shifters. It wasn’t an uncommon trait. About a third of the world’s population was of some Shapeshifter lineage. Probably more, but who was or wasn’t a shifter was not always apparent and it was considered rude to ask.

She was musing over those thoughts as she watched the man she thought might just be her soulmate. Rose had come across him nearly two months ago, but had not managed to gather the courage to approach him. Instead, she used her free time in the afternoon to watch him in the park (when he showed up, he didn’t always) and try to understand why else she might be drawn to him if he wasn’t her soulmate.

“Moping again?” Mickey said, sitting beside her on the bench Rose had taken possession of in the small park near the university. He called it ‘moping’ because otherwise he’d have to term it ‘stalking’, and that could very well end up in a fight.

“I’m not moping,” Rose protested. “And aren’t you supposed to be meeting Martha?”

“How’d you think I found you?” He pointed to the nearest tree where a Barn Own sat, glaring at Rose.

Rose waved at the owl. “Couldn’t use your own nose to find me?”

“And nearly get dragged to the pound again?” Mickey shivered in distaste. To get out of that, he’d had to transform, naked, in the tiny little cell the dog catchers had shoved him into.

“Wouldn’t happen if you wore the collar like your Gran said to.” Rose said, getting up. “Give me her clothes so she can shift back.” She snatched the bag he’d been carrying even as he protested the thought of wearing a collar.

A few moments later, both young women returned to the bench. Martha was finger combing her hair back into a pony tail.

“Next time,” she told her boyfriend, “it’s your turn to track her down. I can’t skip hours at the hospital like I can skip out of class.”

“Martha, you didn’t need to do that.” Rose told her. “It isn’t like I was lost or anything. Mickey could have just called my phone.” She held up said object. “Fully charged and everything.”

Mickey blushed. “I forgot mine at home.” He admitted. “And it’s not like you would’ve answered. You’ve been ignoring your phone for the past two weeks, always around now.”

“He has a point,” Martha agreed, perching herself on the back of the bench as she spoke. Rose might have been the gymnast, but she was the one who was part bird. Martha’s whole family could shift into avian form, including her siblings’ mates. Hers was the only owl though, just as Mickey was the only non-avian.

“Yeah, and we’re concerned.”

“Curious ya mean,” Rose corrected him with a role of her eyes.

She adored her friends. She thought they were wonderful for each other. Martha didn’t look down on them for coming from a Council Estate or their lack of higher education. She had been jealous of Rose at first, thinking that she was going to be competition for Mickey’s attention. Rose had solved that quickly, happily shoving her oldest friend into the other woman’s arms with a ‘he is house broken; just don’t leave out any tennis balls’ before she scarpered off to her mother’s for the weekend.

It did not mean that she was going to indulge their curiosity. Not when they had taken it upon themselves to try and help her find her soulmate.

“Can you blame us?” Martha questioned her. “It’s not your usual style Rose, especially when not even Jack can find out where you disappeared off to and he always knows.”

“No, Ianto always knows and just tells him,” Rose corrected, almost absently.

There was a thought. Jack was the one shifter she knew personally that had a soulmate who wasn’t also a shifter. Jack was a literal alley cat; at least he had been until falling into Ianto’s lap. Again, literally as he’d been out roaming when Jackie had scared him off the railing of Rose and Mickey’s shared apartment (another reason Martha had thought she needed to be jealous) and Ianto had caught him.

However, Jack was also her boss along with being her friend so that made it a little awkward. He would also be an even worse meddler than Mickey and Martha. Gods, he’d also be the one to mention it to her mother and then Jackie Tyler would be prowling around the park to sniff out the potential soulmate of her only child.

Rose didn’t need or want that. She wasn’t even sure why she was being so hesitant in approaching the man, other than the fact he was occasionally accompanied by several different women. She also had no desire to be so very wrong about another man ever again, the first one had been more than enough.

“Oh, hey, that’s John!” Martha stood, precariously balanced on the back of the bench now, to wave the man over.

“You mean the bloke who managed to blow up the table in your chemistry class?” Mickey asked, moving just enough so that she was balancing more on his shoulders than the bench.

“The one and only,” she replied with a grin.

Neither one of them noticed that Rose’s faced had paled a little, or that her normal smile had tightened. Then again, it would be her luck that the mystery guy she’d been eyeing for weeks now would be known to her friend.

“Who’s that with him?” Mickey asked as the man bounced over to them, leaving his female companion to trail behind him.

“Oi! Spaceman!” The very loud ginger yelled, “wait up you over-eager puppy!”

“But Donna! It’s Martha!” John answered cheerily. “Hi Martha! Who are your friends?”

Martha grinned. She had had a very brief crush on John Noble when she had first met him, before realizing that he was absolutely insane and she much preferred someone more down to Earth. His sister Donna was fun and understood just how insane and overwhelming her brother could be.

“This is my boyfriend Mickey Smith and our friend Rose Tyler. Hi Donna, what’s he dragged you into this time?”

“He thinks an absolutely enormous wolf has moved into the park. He dragged me along for a second witness.” Donna answered, hugging Martha briefly. They had met before, several times as it was Donna’s ‘job’ to sign her brother out of the infirmary. They had taken to exchanging stories about his antics, as Martha had (during her crush phase) allowed John to drag her around London and occasionally the nearby counties on ‘adventures’.

“An enormous wolf, huh?” Mickey asked, eyeing his oldest friend. The only reason Rose wouldn’t be picked up the dog catchers would be because they’d call out the wild life rescue instead. He really did not want to have to explain to Jackie that they needed to go pick Rose up from whatever sanctuary or woodland animal control dragged her to.

“Yep,” John nodded, grin still plastered to his face. “I’ve only seen it twice so far, so I wonder if it’s more nocturnal or a shifter out for a run, but still!”

Martha looked between the two. John, for all he was talking to them, was looking at Rose as if she was the only person there to speak to. Rose was being quiet, but Martha was certain her friend had just the slightest of blushes beginning to cover her cheeks.

“It is lunch hour, so maybe the shifter idea isn’t so far off.” Martha agreed. So, Rose had been wondering around the park in wolf form, had she? Interesting…as Rose typically didn’t transform within city limits unless she was inside the apartment or at The Playground.

“Lunch! Right! We were supposed to get lunch today!” John looked at his sister, just now remembering why Donna had come to drag him out of his privet lab.

“Now you remember,” Donna rolled her eyes again. She looked at her watch. “Almost too late now.”

“Chips,” Rose suggested, speaking for the first time. “There’s a chippy nearby, we could go there.”

“Great!” John nodded, attention now back on the pretty blonde he’d been seeing for several weeks now. He’d been curious about her ever since he had first seen her, but had never gotten up the courage to actually speak to her.

She had shown up just after the first time he had seen the wolf. He thought it an odd coincidence, but it wasn’t as if he could just ask. That would be rude. He knew he was rude, very rude and very not ginger (no, Donna had all the luck there), but he’d only made that mistake once. He wasn’t that oblivious to make the same mistake twice. Plus, what if he was wrong? Then it would be doubly rude.

“Great,” Rose smiled at him, relaxing a little.

Mickey rolled his eyes this time. “Come on then, Jake’s waiting for me to get back to the shop and Martha’s got to get back to class.”

“Right, and my lunch break’s nearly over. Get a move on it Spaceman.”

“Going Earth Girl,” John retorted, dodging the slap his sister aimed for the back of his head. “Sisters! Really!”

Rose giggled at their antics. “Come on then, I’ll show you the way.”

Almost as if they’d planned it, the other three watched as they clasped hands. Rose tugged, beginning to lead John towards the chippy she’d told them of.

“Ten pounds says they figure it by the weekend,” Mickey said.

Donna snorted. “You’re on, twenty on it taking at least my brother a month before he figures it out.”

Martha shook her head at them. “Two weeks,” she entered her bet. “And I’m not telling Jackie or Jack.”

“I’m not telling them!” Mickey protested. “That’s Rose’s job.”

“Think they noticed if we went elsewhere for lunch?” Donna asked them.

“Nope,” Mickey shrugged. “Babe, you wanna go to that sushi place you keep mentioning?”

“Sure, coming Donna?”

“Might as well, although I think I’ll pass on the sushi. There’s a burger place right next to it.” Donna headed off, the pair following behind her.

XXXXXX

“Um…” John looked sheepishly at his turned out pockets. “I think I left my wallet in my lab.” So much for him buying lunch…or being a gentleman and paying for Rose’s as well.

Rose had to duck her head to keep from laughing at his face. He looked so cute like that!

“I’ll buy, but next time it’s your turn.” She said, handing over the money to the cashier.

“Ok!” John agreed, smile back on his face. “So…Miss Tyler, what do you do all day besides sit in the park?”

“I work,” she commented, grinning.

“What kind of work?”

“Detective work mostly,” she admitted, “My friend Jack, he’s a PI. I help out him and his partner Ianto doing odd bits.”

“Oh, what kind of odd bits?” John took the basket of fish and chips Rose held out for him, following her to a nearby table.

“Sketches, photos, occasionally climbing into dumpsters or over fences,” or following scent trails or chasing down a culprit or a myriad of other things that her wolf form was useful for, not that she was going to tell him that the first time they spoke. “Occasionally I play Girl Friday to his James Bond, Ianto’s a bit too proper for that role although he does look good in a suit.”

John frowned…that sounded…oh! “You wouldn’t happen to mean Jack Harkness would you?”

“I do, you know him?” Rose was curious now. First Martha, now Jack?

John nodded. “We were friends growing up; he flirted a lot with both me and Donna. Had Donna going spare for a bit, leaving black cat hair everywhere and occasionally showing up naked.”

Rose snorted. “Yea, he still does that. Ianto’s got lint rollers hid all over the office, along with spare clothing. First time my Mum met him, she threated to neuter him if he didn’t learn some proper manners. She also scared him off mine and Mickey’s balcony once, landed him right in Ianto’s lap.”

“You live with Mickey?” John was a little confused. Martha had introduced the young man as her boyfriend. Why would he be living with Rose?

“Yeah, we’ve been friends forever and when he was offered an apprenticeship for mechanic at a shop here I came with him to be closer to where I worked at the time. That and he needed a roommate he could trust. Martha lives with us too, now.” Rose explained. “Our apartment is closer to the university than the one she was renting or her mum’s house.”

John nodded, relived although he wasn’t altogether certain why. It made sense, after all. That was why he and Donna had shared an apartment when they had first left Chiswick.

“So what do you do then?” Rose said, changing the subject.

“Oh, I’m a doctor!” He replied. “Not the kind of doctor Martha’s going to be, but astrophysics and astronomy and regular physics and a little bit of chemistry and biology and some other stuff.”

“Wow,” Rose wasn’t really certain how to respond to that. She didn’t even have any A-Levels, never mind a university degree. “I like the stars,” she managed to get out, “couldn’t see them very well on the estate, but that never stopped me from looking up. Drove Mum mad, sneaking up to the roof.”

John’s eyes brightened and he began to babble about his own misadventures of climbing roofs and sending his mother into hysterics. Rose took up the unspoken challenge and responded in kind until it was very clear that they had to be making things up.

“Okay, I give!” Rose finally said with a laugh. “I’ve never set anything on fire, accident or otherwise.”

“Occupational hazard with me,” John told her, basking in the sound of her laughter and enjoying the fact that he had brought it out. “I’m still banned from the kitchen, every kitchen, on campus. The only reason I’m still allowed into the labs is because I’m good with introductory chemistry classes. Teaching them, at least, and I’ve got my own lab.”

“You think you’re so impressive!” Rose said, smiling the tongue touched smile that she was well known for.

“I am so impressive I’ll have you know Rose Tyler!” John said, matching her smile with one of his own.

“Course you are,” she agreed before giggling.

John would have said something, but at that moment he caught sight of the nearest clock. “Blimy, it’s gotten late.”

Rose looked at her watch, blanching. “I was supposed to be back at work hours ago.” She looked at her phone, seeing that she had several missed calls from pretty much everyone in her small social circle.

“Ah, I could walk you back?” It wasn’t as if he had anything pressing at the lab. He was his own boss, aside from when he had classes to teach.

Rose shook her head. As nice as the thought was, it wasn’t needed.

“No, Jack’s already texted me to have fun.” Rose showed him her phone, where Jack had sent a message to that affect. “Besides, they’ve already closed up for the day. It’s date night for them.”

Jack would just grill her tomorrow about this. Rose was both dreading it and looking forward to it. If she was wrong, it would be just another heartbreak. If she were right though…it could still end in heart break. Donna might have been his sister, but what of the other women she had seen him with? Surely one of them was his girlfriend?

John nodded. “Well then Miss Tyler, what would you like to do?” He paused. Well, that was presumptuous of him, wasn’t it? “I mean, unless you want to leave? Or, uh, you’d rather not…” he was terribly bad at this.

“Let’s go Doctor,” Rose stood and took his hand, feeling brave at the moment. “I’ll walk you back to your lab.”

“Ok,” as if he was going to say no to spending more time with her!

XXXXXXXX

Once she arrived back at her apartment, Rose locked herself in her room. Throwing herself on the bed, she hugged one of the pillows to her chest. Of all the blokes in the world, she would find the oddest of the bunch.

John had kept up an ongoing commentary on their walk back to his lab. He could babble like no one she had ever met, and it had been fascinating for all that there were times what he said flew over her head. She was pretty certain he had invited her to go stargazing out in the country, something about shooting stars and how the city had terrible views for anything cosmic.

Rose was just as certain that she had said she would join him amidst her amusement at his energy. She hadn’t been out of the city in over a year. It would be nice to really have the chance to stretch her legs. The Playground and various parks throughout the city were well and good, but were honestly better suited for the more domesticated Shifters like Mickey and her mother.

That brought up an entirely different set of concerns. How would John feel when he found out? She had to tell him, obviously. There wasn’t a thing wrong with being a Shifter or not, and despite what some people would say there was absolutely nothing wrong with being part of a mixed couple.

It wasn’t as if it was some kind of secret thing. It was rude to announce it or ask outright, but there was nothing secret about it.

Rose gave a long sigh, getting up to strip so she could shift. Once in wolf form, she curled back up onto the bed. With a little bit of maneuvering, she had fully covered herself with her blanket and created a nest of pillows. Warm and comfortable, she turned her thoughts to the real reason why she was so reluctant.

Jimmy Stone.

Fifteen years old, she had been an idiot. He had been older, sure of himself, and able to convince her that they were a perfect match. His mark had never been a match for hers, but even though he was also a Shifter he had sounded so certain that it didn’t actually matter. He had made her head spin with dreams of travel and running free in different parts of the world.

As humans, he had been bigger than her. She had been convinced she was in love with him so had until the very end never thought of turning her beast side upon him. The one and only outright beating he had given her (instead of the usual sharp words and occasional slap or kick) had changed that. Jimmy was a canine shifter, but he was nothing more than a yappy mongrel compared to her Red Wolf.

It was after that incident (she hoped he still bore the scars from her claws across his face) that she had made the decision to never enter another committed relationship unless it was her soulmate. Her actual soulmate, the one who bore the mark that matched hers. Rose was never going to let another pretty face and sweet words convince her otherwise.

Now that she had potentially found him, it scared her. Humans didn’t have the same draw and ingrained loyalty to their soulmates that Shifters did. John could leave her and it wouldn’t harm him in the same way it would her.

Rose had seen it before. Her father died when she was a baby and her mother had never completely gotten over it. She had had boyfriends and lovers, but none that had ever stuck around. Other shifters might not mind a lover, but once they inevitable found their other half then they would be gone. Humans just didn’t understand, not really.

Martha’s dad, for instance, wasn’t a Shifter and had left her mother for a time. Aside from when her frustration reached a breaking point, Martha didn’t like to talk about it. Rose always knew when it was bad because those would be the days that the only one Martha wanted to be around was Mickey. There had been a whole week once where she had remained in owl form because she was tired of being in the middle of the fighting. Mickey had carried her around on his shoulder the entire time, curling up in dog form at night to sleep.

Both of a pair being Shifters didn’t always mean happiness and stability either. Again, her mother was a case in point. Rose had lost count of the number of times she had heard someone say that except for Rose, Jackie may very well have pined herself to death after Pete died. Jackie (who took the form of a Scottish Terrier) had always told Rose that losing a soulmate was one of the most difficult things one could go thru, but (and this was a very big ‘but’) it was not the end of all things. Jackie had never been one to simply give up and she had raised Rose to be the same way.

Mickey’s parents had been soulmates, but they hadn’t remained together. Mickey’s gran had taken him in, lambasting both her son and daughter-in-law for being fools. To this day Mickey didn’t speak to his father, and his mother had died when he was a teenager. Probably (as Jackie and Mickey’s gran were certain) of a broken heart, as uselessly romantic as that was (again, according to the two main adult figures in hers and Mickey’s lives).

So with all of that, Rose was apprehensive. She had not given up on finding her soulmate, just as she had never given up her dreams to travel. She was just a little more realistic about it now at nineteen then she had been at fifteen and sixteen.

Even so, she had had a good time today. Holding his hand as they walked, chatting about random topics and simply listening to him babble about whatever caught his fancy. He could talk for England, he could! Still, as long as he did it while holding her hand she was perfectly happy listening to him.

His hand had felt warm in hers. The few times he had dropped her hand in order to use both of his in his excitement over one topic of another her hand had felt cold, almost as if it would never be warm again. She had to imagine how it would feel to have his hands buried in her ruff or scratching her ears.

Rose startled, falling off the bed as it struck her. They had held hands! Skin to skin! Her mark!

Scrambling to her feet, Rose huffed in annoyance as her blanket den tightened around her. Shifting, she managed to escape with an impatient huff.

“Rose?” Martha called thru the door. They had heard her come in, but when she hadn’t said anything to them they had decided to leave it alone. With the noise now coming from the blonde’s room, however, they were concerned.

“Damn mirror!” Rose cursed. “I’m fine!”

Martha heard her muttering about where her mark was and a giggle escaped her. Hers and Mickey’s marks were on their forearms, easily seen. Rose’s, on the other hand, was in the middle of her right shoulder blade and took effort to see.

“Do you want some help?”

Mickey turned around just as Rose opened her door. He yelped and covered his eyes.

“Quite acting as if you’ve never seen me naked before,” Rose scolded at him, yanking a giggling Martha into her room.

“Still doesn’t mean I want to see it!” Mickey called back. They had learned to control their shifting together and had been closer than some siblings growing up. He waited a beat. “So? Is it any different?”

Martha came out of Rose’s room. She had a wide grin on her face.

“Verdict?” Mickey said, lacing his fingers through hers.

“Wolf paw within this spiral of dots,” Martha explained.

“Dots are new, any shape or just the spiral?” Mickey was glad his was so obvious, a wrench. He had always been good with his hands, and it had pleased him that his mark described him so well. It had gotten slightly more complicated when Martha’s quill had joined it, making it appear as if the quill were drawing the wrench.

His mate was a classy lady. He could easily imagine her dressed to the nines in some Victorian get up, writing with the owl feather quill pen in her neat cursive. Or Ravenclaw robes, which was even easier as they had all dressed up as Hogwarts students for Jack’s Halloween party the year before.

Martha shook her head. “No, but then I’ve never studied astronomy.” There was another thump from Rose’s room. “Think we’ll see her anytime tonight?”

“When her stomach reminds her that she needs to eat, or she wants coffee.” Mickey said. “Gonna call Donna?” He’d liked the ginger they’d eaten lunch with. “And does this mean I won the bet?”

XXXXXXX

“Donna! Donna you need to come see this!”

Donna groaned as she rolled over, yanking a pillow over her head to block out her brother’s voice. Maybe if she ignored him, he would give up. Not that that ever worked, but she could hope.

“Donna!” He whined. “This is important!”

“It’s always important with you Spaceman,” she said, sitting up to glare at him. “What time is it? And why are you naked in my doorway?” There were times she regretted agree to share an apartment with him.

“I’m in a towel,” he protested, tightening said towel around his waist. “I was getting out of the shower when I saw it and I –”

She cut him off. “If this is over another stupid spider I am going to hang your skinny arse from the balcony.” She told him as she got out of bed.

“One time Donna, that was one time!” He said, frowning. He dodged out of her way as she headed towards the bathroom.

“A cricket then? A mouse? I swear, if you’ve gone and ‘rescued’ the lab rats again I’m moving back to Mum’s.” Donna looked around the bathroom, not seeing anything out of place.

“I did that in secondary, and I was twelve.” He defended himself. “No, my mark Donna! Look at my mark!”

“Turn on a light then Spaceman,” she blinked in the sudden brightness. The things she did for her brother. “Well, turn around!”

John did, arching his neck as if he could bend it enough to look at his shoulder blade without the aid of a mirror or two. Donna had often teased him for the spiral of dots there with the big empty space in the center. He had always protested that they were stars in the form of a nebula if a person just knew how to look at it.

Now, the empty space was filed with a clawed paw print. It didn’t look like it was from a dog and it was much too large to be a cat. Donna frowned.

It struck her, then, that it had to be from a wolf. That was what her brother had been looking for in the park after all, and that park was a safe spot for Shifters to run around in while transformed. John probably hadn’t even realized it, but he’d been talking about the blonde girl he had seen almost as often as he’d spoken of the wolf. It was not a stretch, to Donna at least, to think they were one and the same.

“Do you see it?” John was beginning to bounce in place.

“I see it, and yes it really is there.” Donna assured him.

John blinked at her. “But I don’t…and usually I…”

Donna grinned at him. “No gloves Thursday, ran off without them when you were dragging me to the park.”

His eyes kept getting bigger as his brain put the pieces together. Damn it, but this meant that Mickey had won the bet. Donna had been certain her brother (who mostly ignored his mark and steadfastly kept himself covered in layers) would take weeks to notice the change.

“But…but Rose!” It had to be her. She had grabbed his hand and he had grabbed hers. Not just grabbed it, but they had held hands for ages Thursday.

“Unless you’ve been getting handsy with anyone else, yes Rose.” Donna told him.

John went between shaking his head and nodding it. How was he supposed to do this? Just walk up and ask her? Ask to see her mark? Didn’t that count as an innuendo in some circles? He knew it was rude, and while he was rude and not ginger (that was Donna) there were some mistakes he only made once…sometimes.

Donna rolled her eyes. “Get dressed Spaceman, we’ll go check the park and see if she’s there.” After coffee…lots and lots of coffee.

XXXXXXXXX

Rose shoved Jack off her desk, scowling at him. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not showing you. And you’ve got cat hair over my sketches.”

She quickly turned around as he shifted. “Ianto, come and get your cat before I skin him!”

Ianto sighed, finishing the tea as he ignored the antics of his boyfriend and their co-worker. Ever since Mickey had mentioned Rose’s changed mark, Jack had been poking at her to see it. It had been a week now and they were all getting sick of it.

Rose had been steadfastly avoiding the park she’d been frequenting and the man who may or may not even be there. There had been astronomy books littering her desk for that time, along with several pamphlets discussing ‘how to explain being a shifter to a non-shifter’. Those alone had Jack curious, but Rose wasn’t talking.

“Come on Rosie, I’m just curious!” Jack was trying to get her to settle down. He knew from experience that procrastinating talking to your soulmate was hard on a shifter.

“Curiosity killed the cat Jack, do you really want to risk it?” Rose was getting very irritated at him.

A case, any kind of case, would help. It would at least keep him distracted from bothering her. It might also take her mind off John, but she doubted that.

“And satisfaction brought it back,” Jack sing-songed at her. “Besides, even if it did, I have nine lives.”

“Five,” Ianto set a cup of coffee in front of Jack and Rose’s tea in front of her, “and I’m still waiting for the report from the last case.”

“That dog missed, so I have to have at least six left.” Jack teased back, a long running joke between the three of them.

“If you insist,” Ianto replied, going to fix another cup of tea.

They didn’t ask why. Ianto almost always knew when they would be getting someone in with a case. Rose took that as her cue to get some fresh supplies out to take notes with. Jack, deciding to leave it for now, returned to his desk to get out his own things.

The bell above the door chimed, alerting them all that they had a guest. Looking up, Rose squeaked before ducking back down.

“John! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Jack got up to greet his longtime friend with a hug. “And where is that spitfire of a sister of yours?”

“Donna’s on a date with Lee,” John replied, eyes zeroing in on Rose. His face reddened.

Jack looked between them, confused for a moment before it dawned on him. Rose groaned as she recognized the look that crossed his face.

“So John, what brings you by?” Jack was grinning, which should have been his first warning.

“Oh! Yes!” John jumped, turning his wide gaze to Jack. “I’ve been trying to track a wolf I saw in a park near the campus.” He absently took the tea Ianto handed him. “I was hoping you could help me.”

“Of course we can! Rose is great at tracking.”

Rose was going to kill him. She was certain of that.

John turned back to her. “Really? Um…would you…uh…could you…” he floundered, taking a gulp of tea to give his mouth something to do that wasn’t talking.

“I can meet you at the park in an hour, if that works for you?” Rose was glaring at Jack as she spoke, but he was just grinning back at her.

“Actually,” John coughed, the tea was hot! “Actually, I was thinking about going later tonight, after dark. I haven’t seen it again in the daytime and the first time I saw it was nearly midnight so I thought maybe it was nocturnal and…”

Rose began to smile as he continued to babble. It was cute, especially as he’d put down the tea and was now running his hands thru his hair. It was making it stick up and her hands itched to sooth it back down.

Maybe she wouldn’t kill Jack. She did need to speak to John anyway.

“I’ll meet you at the entrance of the park, yeah?” She got in when he took a pause for breath. “About seven?”

John nodded his head. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds like an idea Rose Tyler.”

Rose shivered. She liked how her name sounded coming from his mouth. “See you then Doctor.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sky was just beginning to darken when Rose arrived at the entrance to the park. She had her kit with her, just in case. She doubted she would need it, but if working with Jack had taught her anything it was that it was far better to be over prepared than be caught unawares.

John was already waiting for her. She stopped to watch him for a moment, her hearing catching his muttering.

“Hey Doctor, been waiting long?”

John jumped. “Rose! You’re here! I mean, obviously, where else would you be? I mean-”

Rose laughed. “I know what you mean Doctor. Shall we?” She motioned towards the open park gate.

John smiled. “I like when you call me Doctor.” He rolled the name around in his mind. “I might just start using it. Sounds like the name of an adventurer.”

“Is that what we’re doing, going on an adventure?” Rose teased him, barely registering that they had clasped hands.

“We’re looking for a wolf that may or may not be wild. I’d call that an adventure, wouldn’t you?” John asked her. Her hand felt right in his; as if it were the piece he’d been missing his entire life without knowing it.

“I would,” she bit her lip. “Doctor, I was-”

A low growling cut her off. Instinctively, Rose tried to push John behind her. That wasn’t a friendly growl.

“Rose,” John said slowly, “That’s not the wolf I’ve been looking for.”

“I know John.” Rose shifted her stance, readying herself for whatever she would need to do.

The wolf stalking them from the shadows was a deep black. It wasn’t someone she knew, and most of the canines in the area knew each other. It was considered common curtesy for a new shifter to make oneself known to the local community.

A wild wolf wouldn’t be hunting them like this one was. Rose knew what a hunting wolf looked like, what the air felt like during a hunt. This was a hunt and they were the prey.

“Maybe we should-” John started to say but Rose cut him off.

“Stay absolutely still,” she thrust her kit at him. “Don’t make any sudden movements and stay quiet.”

“Okay,” he whispered, eyes on the other wolf and not on her.

The wolf leapt for them. When it did, Rose sprang into action.

John gaped as his companion, the young woman he was fairly certain was his soulmate, turned into a large reddish-brown wolf. The very same wolf he’d been seeing around the park.

She had done it mid leap, slamming into the other wolf in a tangle of ripped clothing and scrambling paws. All he could do was stare as Rose took on the other wolf in a fight unlike any he’d ever seen. John struggled to remain frozen, wanting to help Rose but not knowing how to.

Teeth snapped, sometimes drawing yelps and growls from the one being bitten. Claws flashed, leaving streaks of blood behind when they connected. Often, they were little more than a tumble of fur.

Finally, Rose emerged victorious. She held the other (much larger, John noted absently) wolf down by the throat. The wolf whimpered, splaying out as much as it could in a display of submission. With a final growl, Rose released him. She cuffed him with a paw, bearing her fangs at him.

He scrambled away from them as fast as his legs could carry him.

Rose gave the impression of snorting in dismissal before approaching John and nudging him. Almost on reflex, he began to stroke her head.

“You know,” he finally said, “it’s highly unfair that even you have more ginger than I do.”

Rose collapsed in laughter, shifting as she did so. “T-t-th-that-that’s th-the b-best y-y-ya g-got?” She managed to say through her laughter.

“No, you’re a wolf! The wolf! And you’re naked!” He spun around.

Rose calmed down. “Yes, unless it’s very skin tight clothing doesn’t shift with you. My bag.”

“What?”

“My bag, I’ve got a spare set in it.”

“oh…oh! Right.” He turned around to hand it to her, blushing as he took her in.

Rose took the chance and turned around, baring her back to him. It was now or never, either their marks matched now or they didn’t.

By his intake of breath, they did.

“You’re my soulmate…and you’re a shifter…”

“That a bad thing?” She tried to keep it light, but then this was her fears made manifest. She didn’t know what she would do if he rejected her.

John shook his head, realized she couldn’t see him with her back turned, and spoke. “No, no it’s not.” He paused. “This is so cool! You can turn into a wolf! A really big wolf, and a ginger one, but a wolf!”

She turned, now fully dressed, to face him. He was bouncing in place, hands flexing as if he wanted to touch her.

“Yeah,” Rose had no idea what to say.

“Do you want to go stargazing with me?” John burst out.

“What?” Now she was confused.

“Stargazing…that’s what I normally do in this park. It’s not the best, but there’s a clearing where the trees block out most of the light and we can talk or not talk or whatever really-”

Rose gave in and kissed him to shut him up. “Sounds lovely,” now she was blushing as red as he was, “lead the way.”

“Right,” he took her hand. “Ready Rose Tyler?”

“Always,” she responded.

“Run.”

And they never stopped.

XXXXXXXX

The end!

Happy Holidays @darklordpthalo, hope this makes you smile!