#man.. this drawin too personal 4 me man

[reallyhumongousgarden]

sense of self

[tangledbea]

Seeing All That Matters

Rapunzel Appreciation Week Day 4 - AU

Rating: G

Fandom: Tangled/Tangled the Series

Characters: Rapunzel, Eugene Fitzherbert

Word Count: 1312

Summary: The Kingdom Dance scene from the perspective of my Blind Dark Prince Eugene AU

Read on AO3

@s-vnshiine

Eugene was a fascinating person, Rapunzel was discovering. How did someone navigate the world without sight? They walked through the bustling kingdom together, hand in hand. Though neither of them knew where they were going, the fact that he could only see her meant that if he just followed her, he’d run into other people and even objects! She was sorry that he’d lost his walking stick in the river, and since that was her fault (or as much her fault as anything), she took it upon herself to guide him. So she held his hand as they walked along, thinking nothing of it.

“On our right, there’s a kind of… table thing? It has an umbrella opened, for shade I imagine,” she explained. “There’s a man and all these boxes propped up at angles, and each box has a different kind of fruit in it!”

“A grocer,” Eugene smiled. “Probably a farmer, too.”

“You mean he grew all that food himself?”

“Most likely.”

This was a fun game! She would describe something to him, and he’d explain to her what it was she was seeing. They were both learning!

“There’s an open bit of street ahead, and-- oh! People are drawing all over the ground in colored chalk!” Eugene paused a moment in thought, and his hesitation caused him to pull back on her hand a little. Rapunzel turned, trying to read his expression. It was thoughtful, but his emotions were guarded. “What is it?” she wondered.

“You told me you’re an artist,” he pointed out. “Would you like to join them?”

“Oh! N-no, it’s okay. I’m not going to just leave you on the sidelines while I have fun.”

“Rapunzel, it’s your birthday. You should get to enjoy yourself. Besides, I’ll be having fun, too, watching you.” He smiled gently at her, and Rapunzel was shocked that it made her heart speed up to see. “Just describe to me what you’re drawing, just like you are with everything else. I like hearing you talk.”

That was a new one. No one had ever told her they liked hearing her talk before. Mother usually wanted her to talk a lot less than she was inclined to. It made her feel good, validated, and as she borrowed a selection of chalks, she quietly confessed, “I like hearing you talk, too.”

She liked hearing about the kingdom he came from, and about what it was like to see with reflections in imperfect stone. She liked observing how sharp his senses were, too, but if she was honest, he looked a little bit haggard. He’d already commented more than once that there were way more people here than he was used to. The constant crowd noise was almost deafening to honed ears. She realized as she set chalk to pavement that this area was a little calmer, and maybe he was also enjoying himself now because there was less to overstimulate him.

“I’m going to draw the kingdom’s sun crest,” she announced to him. “But of course, I’m going to be putting my own spin on it.”

“Of course!” he mused. “What colors are you using?”

“Purple, mostly, but I’ll add others as the inspiration strikes me.” She was already beginning, putting broad strokes on the ground to shape out what she was envisioning.

“You don’t plan your art out in advance?”

“I do! Sort of. I know what I want it to look like, basically. But the detail shifts as I work on it.” She liked this, having someone new to talk to while she worked. She’d always been able to talk to Pascal, but Pascal didn’t talk back in anything more than squeaks and gestures. There wasn’t a lot of back and forth like this.

“You’re moving farther away than I expected,” he noted. “How big are you planning to make this thing?”

“Big,” she grinned up at him. “I need it to be as big as my joy!” She missed the look he gave her, soft, adoring, and even if she’d seen it, she might not have interpreted it correctly.

After a few minutes of drawing quietly - he didn’t pester her every moment, wanting her to be able to concentrate - she was the first to speak up. “What does drawing with chalk sound like?”

Eugene blinked a few times, surprised and delighted by the question. No one had ever taken such an interest in the nuances of his very existence before her.

“Well… there’s the soft tapping of the chalk when it makes contact, but there’s also the sound of the lines being drawn. It’s not really scratching, and it’s not really squeaking, but it’s something like that, only softer. It’s a very chalky sound, though. I’ve never heard anything quite like chalk.” And though she didn’t ask, he launched into his other senses. “Chalk has a very distinctive smell, too. It’s earthy and dusty, and it clings in my nose. Not that it’s a bad thing exactly, but some smells go away pretty quickly. Chalk stays with me.”

“Did you know chalk is a natural substance?” Rapunzel asked. “It’s made of the remains of teeny tiny seashells. Whole oceans of life laid dormant underground until someone turns it into art. Then, it can live again.” She sat back on her heels to examine her work so far. “It’s also a really good paint base, if you grind it up and add, like, water to it.”

The morning went on like that, Rapunzel churning out a magnificent chalk drawing and describing it to Eugene, and him talking about things like being able to identify individual voices in the crowd and what he imagined the owners of the voices looked like, how the sun felt on his shoulders, the smells from the food vendors as it got closer to lunch, and the sounds of distant music that Rapunzel couldn’t hear.

When the drawing was done, she asked if they could find the music, and he suggested food first. This day was proving to be a test for her, because she wanted to just completely bolt all the time, run over and examine things. And while Eugene didn’t mind being pulled along, she knew she couldn’t snatch him away from everything they were doing while it was half-done, and she couldn’t just leave him alone in the middle of the street. He’d always be able to see her, but he couldn’t see anything else, and with the increasing crowd, it was harder to hear nuances of the environment.

They got lunch with cupcakes as dessert, and then she got distracted by a bookshop. They sat there, heads together, as she poured over atlases, looking at the world this way and exploring his kingdom. She found some books with raised writing, and for the first time in years, Eugene was able to sound out words. He had been an avid reader before, and no amount of reflected viewing made reading suddenly easy again. Even this was difficult, but it was more than he ever expected to experience.

After that, he was sure to follow his ears to the music for her.

The Dark Kingdom had several traditional dances, and Eugene’s feet knew them all. Still, without the ability to see the people around him, he was hesitant to try any of it. But Rapunzel cleared out a small area, drew a chalk line and requested that people keep back from it, then asked him to teach the steps to her. Together, they moved to the music, steps and heartbeats in sync. The afternoon wore on, Rapunzel never wanting to sit still, and Eugene more than happy to keep her happy. And if he was honest, he’d never had more fun in his life.

This was shaping up to be a day neither would ever forget.

[cosmosogler]

hi guys. very tired, as usual. whiskey woke me up this morning.

uh, we’re taking care of marisol’s dog. he has decided he belongs to me. except that means he refuses to leave the room i’m in unless i also leave. and he cries if i close the door so he can’t follow me. so instead of going out with the other dogs in the morning he wakes me up, even though i have ignored him until my alarm went off for an entire week now. 

but it sure does cut down on the sleep i’m getting!

i took eve for a walk today and i also took wiley for a walk. i sat with eve and drew on my lap for a while even though it made my art come out a little wonky. i feel really irritated... mom flaked out on taking me to thai food even though i asked well ahead of time. i didn’t go to the library because i also don’t have any clean pants so i was wearing some basketball shorts all day under my green sweater. with long purple cat socks. because it’s my house.

i also started feeling agitated today when i realized that i am the last person who sent a message in every single conversation i’m part of (except one person where the conversation ended naturally), even for chat windows that have been left for a week or more. i talk too much. and people don’t respond to my messages. in most cases it’s mid conversation and i just sent one message that they didn’t respond to. 

i’m talkin to the wrong people i guess. or no one has time for me. 

i was finishing up a little notebook page for the comic when my brother came in and saw me drawin the chunk man. he said “is that sans” and i jumped three feet in the air. i wanted to say “ah yes my favorite super mario character, sans undertale with a beard” but i just laughed and said no, he’s from my comic. my brother said he hadn’t touched it and i didn’t even feel disappointed. i figured. he asked what they were doing and i tried to point out the count as “the blue one” and then i sighed because the entire comic is in black and white and i had to correct to “the one with horns.” 

on friday i have to get up at ~4:40 am. so i’m going to bed very soon. 

[thelastspeecher]

Stan-at-Home - Chapter 4: Stanford Pines, Set to Rights

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6 Chapter 7   AO3

I really wanted to update something last month, but life got in the way.  So, here, have an update for my Stay-at-Home Stan AU fic.  And I promise, I won’t update this fic until after I finish “Stan Pines, Farmhand”.  I really wanna get that fic DONE.  Anyways, in this chapter, Ford meets Angie’s absent-minded neurologist friend as well as his own gotdang son.  And nightmares for both of the Stan twins start to reach their conclusion.  Anyways, enjoy.

               “Stanford.”  Ford looked up.  Angie smiled at him.  “May I join ya?” she asked.  

               “Uh, sure,” Ford said.  Angie took a seat next to him on the couch.  

               “I have somethin’ fer ya,” she said.  “Hold out yer hand.”  Ford did as he was told.  Angie carefully set a necklace in the palm of his hand.  It was silver, with a delicate chain that held a replica of the Star of David.

               “What’s this for?” Ford asked.  Angie sighed.

               “Growin’ up, I was always told that the sign of the cross would keep demons and evil at bay.”

               “This isn’t a cross.”

               “Let me finish.”

               “Sorry.”

               “Anyways, I looked into a bit more,” Angie said.  Her knee was bouncing, in much the same way that Fiddleford’s did. “Seems like holy relics or holy symbols weaken otherworldly bein’s.  I figured that, since ya were raised Jewish, you’d have a more personal connection to the Star of David than a cross.  And that might strengthen its power a bit.”

               “Angie…”

               “It ain’t a permanent solution by any means.  But maybe it’ll help keep Bill out of yer mind while we work on the proper fix.”  She nodded at it.  “That’s blessed silver, done by a priest.  And the necklace has a good history, too.  It was a gift from Ma and Pa to celebrate the twins bein’ born.  Givin’ expectin’ parents a nice necklace is a tradition from Ma’s side of the fam’ly.  There’s nothin’ but good feelin’s and happiness with that lil thing.”

               “You’re very thorough,” Ford said softly, running the necklace through his hands.  

               “I’m a scientist.  I’m supposed to be.  Go ahead, put it on.”  Ford slid the necklace over his head.  The moment the pendent settled on his chest, he felt more grounded.  A humming he hadn’t realized was in the back of his mind suddenly stopped.  Angie looked at him.  “So?”

               “It works.”

               “Really?” Angie said eagerly.  Ford nodded.

               “Bill’s grip on me was already rather tenuous, given how far I am from Gravity Falls.  This seems to have been the final step to break the connection between us.  At least, while I’m in San Diego,” Ford said. Angie beamed.

               “That’s amazin’!  I’m so glad it worked.  I am goin’ to need that necklace back, though.  Once they turn eight, the girls get to decide who gets that one, and who gets the one with a cross.”  She tilted her head pensively.  “But I’m pretty sure Daisy’ll get the one yer wearin’.”

               “Why?”

               “Just seems like it,” Angie said simply.  

               “Gut feeling?”

               “Yup.”  A few moments passed.  Ford cleared his throat.

               “Actually, Angie, while I have you here, there’s something I need to tell you.”

               “It ain’t ‘bout more demons, is it?”

               “No, it’s-”  Ford took a breath.  “The reason Jenny is dropping off Tate is so that he can bond with me.  Because…I’m his father.”

               “I know,” Angie said.  Ford stared at her.  

               “Did she tell you?”

               “No.  I figured it out on my own,” Angie said, sounding agitated.  “I ain’t an idiot, Stanford.”

               “I never said you were,” Ford said, startled.

               “It’s not what ya said, it’s what ya implied,” Angie said in a slightly calmer tone.  She took a breath.  “Look, I knew Tate’s other father was out there in the world somewhere. I ‘member when we still called Fidds ‘Viola’, and I thought he was my big sister.  Jenny ain’t like he is.  I knew someone was out there, who helped make my lil nephew.”  She shrugged.  “Figured it was some dashin’, handsome young man what swept him off his feet fer a night of wonder or somethin’ cheesy like that.”

               “I’m not sure whether I should be insulted or not,” Ford said mildly. Angie rolled her eyes.

               “Yer a fine-lookin’ man, Stanford Pines.  Any twin of my husband would have to be.  But I had no clue who exactly this mystery man was.”  She cocked her head at him.  “Then I met you.  And remembered that Fiddleford met ya fer dinner ‘round the same time Tate would’ve been conceived.  And I realized that Tate and Daisy look an awful lot alike, even fer cousins.”

               “You caught onto that?”

               “Of course I did!  Science is all ‘bout drawin’ connections between data.  Fer the longest time, the only connection between Daisy and Tate was that I’m Tate’s auntie.  I thought the polydactyly was some McGucket trait, maybe an in utero mutated gene my Pa or Ma had, but didn’t manifest in ‘em, or their kids.  Polydactyly can do that.”  Angie shook her head.  “But seein’ yer twelve fingers, well, that was the final nail in the coffin.  Yer not just a polydactyl, yer a polydactyl in the exact same way as Tate.  And it ain’t a common way.  Post-axial polydactyly like that on both hands?  Mighty rare.”

               “Yes, I’m well aware,” Ford said.  Angie nodded.

               “Suppose ya would be.”  She paused. “I apologize fer bein’ rude just now.”

               “Rude?  I didn’t think-”

               “No, I was.  Don’t be polite.”  Angie sighed. “I just- I’m so used to provin’ myself. Bein’ a woman in science is rough. Nothin’ I ever did was good enough fer folks at college.  No one believed that I was as good as they were.”

               “I’m familiar with the concept,” Ford said airily.  Angie cracked a half-smile.

               “Suppose ya would be,” she said again.  She patted his leg in a genial manner.  “Now, let’s go get that brain of yours scanned.”

----- 

               Ford sat in the office of the head of Neurology at the San Diego Teaching Hospital.  Across from him, sitting at a desk covered in brain models, was the head of Neurology herself, Dr. Norma Carmichael.  Angie, who was to Ford’s right, leaned forward.

               “So, ya didn’t see anythin’ peculiar with his results, Norma?” Angie asked. Dr. Carmichael shook her head.

               “No.  Just what I expected to see from someone with chronic nightmares.”  The three of them had decided to not tell Angie’s college friend the source of Ford’s nightmares.  “But I do have to admit,” Dr. Carmichael conceded, “the activity was more vigorous than I’ve seen before.  Like there were more nightmares, or they were higher in severity.”

               Well, obviously my nightmares would be more severe than those not caused by demons.  Ford mentally frowned at the sarcastic tone to his thoughts.  No, Stanford.  Be patient.  Dr. Carmichael is doing this at no cost to you, and Angie doesn’t need you to be rude to her friend.

               “What do we do now?” Stan (who was sitting to Ford’s left) asked, taking a break from playing with one of the models on Dr. Carmichael’s desk.

               “You said that psychological treatments have been unsuccessful?” Dr. Carmichael asked.  Ford nodded.

               “Yes.”

               “Then I do have one treatment I would suggest.”

               “What is it?” Angie asked.  Dr. Carmichael sighed.

               “It’s rather experimental.  Actually, we only just got the approval to do a trial for it here.  It’s being run by myself and Steve.  Steve’s arguably the best neurosurgeon we have here, he’s-”

               “Norma,” Angie interrupted.  “Please.”

               “Oh, right.  Sorry.”

               Angie mentioned her friend had a tendency to get sidetracked.  

               “The treatment is, to put it simply, brain surgery to suppress the portions of your brain causing the chronic nightmares,” Dr. Carmichael said.

               “What?” Ford asked, startled.

               “Only when you’re unconscious, of course,” Dr. Carmichael said breezily. “We wouldn’t want to block access to a portion of your brain permanently.  Which, if we accidentally did, we could fix.  Probably.  I mean-”

               “Norma,” Angie started again.  She took a breath.  “Is this the only physiological treatment you have for us?”

               “Yes.  And, to be frank, your brother-in-law is perfect for our study.”

               “Ya don’t say,” Stan said idly.  He accidentally dropped the model he was fiddling with.  Brightly colored regions of the brain scattered on the floor. “Shit!  Sorry, Norma.”  Dr. Carmichael waved a hand.

               “It’s no problem.  When my sons come to visit, they do the same thing.  You don’t have a son, do you, Stan?”

               “Uh, no.  Just the twin girls for me and Angie right now,” Stan said.

               “Right now”?  Hmm, maybe I’ll get another niece or nephew someday.  

               “Norma, I think we’re goin’ to go over our options,” Angie said.  “We’ll be in touch.  Thank you, again.”

               “Oh, it was no problem at all!  Especially if your brother-in-law agrees to be in our study.  Hint, hint,” Dr. Carmichael said, winking at Ford.  

               After cleaning up the brain model pieces off the floor, Ford, Stan, and Angie exited Dr. Carmichael’s office.  Ford leaned against the wall.  He lost himself in the sterile hospital smell and the voice on the intercom requesting the on-call dermatologist.  

               “Stanford,” Angie said, breaking through Ford’s fuzzy thoughts.  

               “Yes?” Ford asked.

               “What are ya thinkin’?”

               “I think he should do the surgery,” Stan put in.  

               “So do I,” Angie said.  After a moment, Ford nodded.

               “I concur.”

               “I’ll call Norma tomorrow, sneak ya in that study of hers, then,” Angie said. She dug a pen out of her purse and scribbled something on her hand.  Stan peered over at what she had written.

               “Who’s ‘Dill Nodno’?” Stan asked.  Angie shoved him playfully.

               “Oh, you.  Quit makin’ fun of my handwritin’.  What matters is that I can read it.”  She tucked the pen behind her ear.  “Did ya want to stop and get a treat, Stanford?”

               “Uh, what?”

               “When we take the girls to appointments, that’s what we do afterwards,” Stan explained.  

               “I’m not one of your toddler-aged daughters,” Ford said. Angie grinned at him.

               “I know that.  But adults like ice cream too.  So, are ya in the mood fer a nice scoop of vanilla?” she asked.  

               “I’m not one to turn down frozen treats,” Ford said.  Stan punched him playfully.

               “There’s the spirit, Sixer!  Let’s get some ice cream.”

----- 

               Daisy hummed as she skipped alongside Ford, holding her six-fingered hand in one of his.  It was the day after the brain scan, and Stan insisted that Ford come with him and the girls on their walk to the park.

               “Normally, Angie comes with, since it’s her day off, but she’s settin’ things up for your study,” Stan said.  

               “I can do that,” Ford interjected.  Stan shook his head.

               “You’re my brother and I love you, but you’re not a people person, Ford.  Can’t risk you making Norma upset by accident.”

               “I wouldn’t!”

               “Since Angie’s gettin’ things in order, yeah, ya won’t.”

               “Uncle Ford, do you like my skipping?” Daisy asked, startled Ford out of his recollection.  Ford smiled indulgently at his niece.

               “Of course I do!  It’s lovely, just like you are,” he said.  Daisy beamed.  Stan elbowed Ford.

               “See, Sixer?  You’re great with kids!  And Tate’s an angel compared to these troublemakers.  You’ll be fine with him.”

               “The people at the park seem to know you very well,” Ford remarked to Stan. Stan eyed Ford, well aware of his twin’s not-so-subtle change of topic.  After a moment, Stan shrugged.  

               “I’ve been takin’ the girls there since before they could walk.  Folks know the McGuckets around here.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Not everyone ‘approves’ of me watchin’ the kids and Angie workin’, though.” Stan looked at Danny, who was holding his hand.  “What’s the name for people like that?”

               “Chumps!” Danny said enthusiastically.  Ford chuckled.

               “That’s right, princess,” Stan said.  He looked up.  The blood drained from his face.  “Oh, no.”

               “What is it?” Ford asked.  Stan stared at the car parked outside his house.

               “I recognize that car,” he whispered.  “Girls, ya know which house is Mrs. Bell’s, right?”  His daughters nodded.  “Okay, go over there, now.  Take your Uncle Ford with you.  Call 911.”

               “What?  Stanley, that’s a bit of an overreaction,” Ford started.  Stan stared at his twin with terrified eyes.

               “Remember that dream I had?” Stan asked in a shaky voice.  Ford’s blood ran cold.

               The one that ended with his wife getting killed.

               “…Oh,” Ford said softly.  Stan handed Danny over to Ford.  “I’ll take the girls.  What should I tell the operator?”

               “That a dangerous criminal arrived at 435 Farley Street, likely has backup.  Now get goin’.”  Before Ford could set off with the girls, however, the front door slammed open.  A man raced out of the house, clamping a hand to his shoulder.  “Cover the girls’ eyes, Sixer!” Stan shouted while he ran to intercept the person fleeing the house.  Ford did as he was told and watched Stan knock out the stranger with one punch.  

               “That’s right, ya best run, ya-” someone shouted from the house.  Ford looked in the direction the voice had come from.  Standing in the doorway, eyes wild and brandishing a rifle, was Angie.  

               “Angie!” Stan shouted.  Angie dropped her gun to rush to her husband and embrace him tightly.  Ford could faintly make out a few words while Stan spoke to her.  “-thought he got ya.”  Angie’s laughter carried.

               “No one messes with my fam’ly.  Or threatens to,” she replied confidently.  Stan hugged her tighter, burying his face in her hair.  Ford looked away.  This was a private moment between a husband and wife.  After a few moments, Stan came back to Ford and the girls.

               “Daddy, what’s goin’ on?” Danny asked curiously.  Stan crouched down.

               “Nothin’ for ya to worry about.  But Uncle Ford is gonna take ya back to the park for a bit.  Your ma and I have to…deal with a few things.”

               “Can Apple come with?” Daisy asked.  Stan grimaced.

               “Apple doesn’t like your uncle, remember?”

               “Oh.  Right.”

               “But,” Stan said, “Uncle Ford will get the two of ya a treat, okay?”

               “Okay!” Daisy said cheerfully.  Stan stood up and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.  His hands were shaking.

               “Stan,” Ford said softly.  “It’s on me.” Stan looked at him gratefully.

               “Are ya sure?”

               “Yes.  Positive. Take care of your wife and…your past. Just come by the park whenever you and Angie are ready,” Ford said.  Stan took a breath.  

               “Thanks, Sixer.”  Stan kissed his daughters on the tops of their heads before walking back to Angie. Ford watched Stan put an arm around his wife’s shoulders and walk inside with her.  

               “So, girls, let’s go back to the park,” Ford said in a falsely cheery tone. Danny tugged at his shirt.  He looked down at her.  “Yes?”

               “What’s goin’ on?”

               “I’m not quite sure,” Ford answered.  Danny frowned at him.

               “Don’t lie.”

               Damn.  How did she know?  Am I that bad at lying?  Or is she that good at catching lies?

               “Listen, I don’t want to tell you two something that’s inaccurate.  Or something that your parents should talk to you about.  When your dad comes to the park, you can ask him then.  But right now, I can’t tell you anything.  Do you understand?” Ford said.  After a moment, Danny nodded.  “Now, let’s go to the park.”

----- 

               Ford stared at the polar bear exhibit, trying to suppress his nerves.  

               What I wouldn’t give to be on the other side of that glass.  No, Stanford, you’d get mauled to death. Ford ran a trembling hand through his hair.  Would that be so bad?  

               “Sweet Moses, Sixer, quit freakin’ out so much!” Stan said, exasperated. Ford looked at his twin.  Danny was sitting on Stan’s shoulders, braiding his hair, while Daisy clung to his leg and sang nonsense words under her breath. “You’re meetin’ Tate for the first time. You’re not gettin’ a prostate exam.”

               “What’s a pot exam?” Daisy asked.  Stan looked down at his daughter.  

               “Nothin’ you need to worry about.”

               “Hmm,” Daisy said, wrinkling her nose.  She resumed her singing.  

               “I’d prefer that, to be honest,” Ford said.  Stan sighed.

               “Seriously, stop bein’ such a drama queen.  That’s my job.  Right, girls?”

               “Yeah!” Danny and Daisy said eagerly.  

               “Your children are using you as a jungle gym,” Ford pointed out.  Stan winced as Danny tugged too roughly on his hair. “Can you blame me for being nervous about meeting my own progeny?”

               “‘Progeny’?  Geez, you’re a nerd.  And you don’t need to be so worried.  Angie and I keep tellin’ ya, not only is Tate older than the girls, but he’s the quietest, most well-behaved kid in the world.  It’s weird.”

               “Still!” Ford said.  He looked back at the polar bear.  “Why are we meeting Tate and Jenny at the zoo?”

               “It’s zoo day!” Daisy said.  Stan nodded.

               “Since Angie works here, we get in for free a couple times a month.”

               “That’s it?” Ford asked.

               “Well, the rest of the month, we get a pretty sweet discount.  But since it’s just the one income for us, and two toddlers use up a lotta cash, we usually only visit on free days.  And anyways, Tate loves it here.”

               “Really?”

               “Yeah.  He likes the animals a lot.”  Stan looked past Ford.  “There he is!”  Ford turned around.  Walking toward them was a tall, slender blonde woman, holding a young boy’s hand. The boy’s eyes were obscured by a thick mass of dark brown hair.  Ford felt a hint of a connection.

               The Pines family curls.  I’ve been there.

               “Tate!” Daisy and Danny shrieked.  Daisy unlatched from Stan’s leg and ran toward her cousin and aunt. She tackled Tate in an intense hug. The woman, presumably Jenny McGucket, carefully detached Daisy from Tate.

               “Stanley, it’s lovely to see you,” Jenny said, once she had reached Stan and Ford.

               “Good to see you too, Jenny,” Stan said.  He grinned and removed Danny from his shoulders, then crouched down to Tate’s height.  “Hey there, buddy.  How’s my favorite little man, huh?”

               “All right,” Tate said in a small voice.  He looked at Ford.  “Mom says you’re my dad.”  Ford swallowed nervously.

               “Yes.  I am,” Ford said.

               “Why haven’t I met you, if you’re my dad?” Tate asked.  

               “It’s complicated.  I wasn’t in contact with your father, and-”  Ford broke off, suddenly noticing the stares he was getting from Danny and Daisy.

               “All right, girls, maybe we should go get a snack,” Stan said abruptly. “Let Uncle Ford, Tate, and Aunt Jenny catch up.”

               “No, I’ll come with,” Jenny said.  “The boys need some bonding time.”  Ford stared at Stan with terrified eyes.

               Please don’t leave me alone with him!

               “…Actually,” Stan said slowly, “I’ll stay here with Tate and Ford.  Jenny, mind takin’ the girls to the Axolotl Eatery? It’s the restaurant near the amphibian exhibit.  Angie said she would meet us there for her lunch break.  Us men will take a short walk and join ya in about, I dunno, ten minutes?”  Jenny looked back and forth between Stan and Ford.

               “Okay.  Come on, girls.”  After Jenny had left, singing a song about elephants with Danny and Daisy, Ford turned his attention to his son again.

               “So, Tate,” Ford started.  

               “Yeah?”

               “Uh…”  Ford realized he hadn’t thought of what he would say.

               “How about we walk around a bit,” Stan suggested.  “Some of the penguins had babies, wanna go check it out, Tate?”

               “Okay,” Tate said.  He took a hold of Stan’s hand.  The three of them set off in silence.  Once they were halfway to the penguin exhibit (according to the zoo map Ford had picked up), Tate spoke.  “What do I call you?”

               “Pardon?” Ford asked.

               “Danny and Daisy prob’ly call you Uncle Ford.  But you’re not my uncle, you’re my dad.”

               “Well, I think Dad would suffice, then, don’t you?” Ford said. Tate frowned.

               “‘Suffice’?”

               “Be adequate or sufficient,” Ford said.  “Dad is a good thing to call me.”  Tate nodded slowly.  

               “Dad, what do you do?”

               “I’m a scientist.”

               “Like Aunt Angie?”

               “Not exactly like her.  There are many branches of science, and I elected to study physics in college, while she studied herpetology.”

               “Yeah, he’s a scientist like your Aunt Angie,” Stan said.  Tate nodded again.

               “What do you like to do, like read, or write, or jigsaw puzzles, or go hiking?”  Stan raised an eyebrow.  

               “Tate, did your mom give ya a list of things to ask your dad?”

               “…Maybe,” Tate said.  Stan chuckled.

               “So, Ford?  What are your hobbies?” Stan asked.  Ford rubbed the back of his neck.

               “Uh, I read a lot.  I do my research, so for that I tend to take pictures and draw, as well as write.”

               “Tell Tate about your research a bit,” Stan suggested.  “I think he’d find it interestin’.”

               “Oh!  Well, my research is cataloging the strange creatures of Gravity Falls,” Ford said. Stan nodded.

               “How do you do your research?”

               “Mostly by hiking in the woods and observing wildlife.”  Tate looked at Ford.

               “Really?!” Tate asked eagerly.

               That’s the most energetic he’s sounded since I met him.

               “Yes.  There are a lot of fascinating things in the forest.”

               “I know!  There’s birds, and fish, and raccoons,” Tate said.  “And!  I saw Bigfoot once!”

               “Oh, yes, he’s quite the friendly gentleman,” Ford said.  Tate gaped.

               “You met Bigfoot!”

               “Yes.”

               “I knew he was real!  The other boys in my troop never believed me when I told them I saw him.”

               “Ah, well, some people keep their heads in the sand and don’t listen to proof that the supernatural exists,” Ford said.  He frowned.  “Troop?”

               “Boy Scouts,” Stan supplied.  “Tate’s quite the ranger, aren’t ya?”  Tate nodded eagerly.

               “Boy Scouts have to do projects, right?” Ford asked.  Tate nodded again.  “Maybe one of your projects someday could involve assisting me with my research.”

               “That sounds awesome!  I wanna meet Bigfoot!” Tate gushed.  Ford looked at Stan.  Stan winked.

               “He’s a lot like you, huh, Sixer?  Quiet until ya mention somethin’ he loves.”

               “Why’d you call him Sixer?” Tate asked.  

               “Because I have six fingers on each hand,” Ford answered.  “Like you, Tate.”

               “Really?”  Ford crouched down and held out his hands for Tate to examine.  Tate smiled.  “I didn’t know there were people like me.  Except for Daisy.”

               “I am your father,” Ford pointed out. “We’re bound to have similarities.”

               “There ya are!” someone called.  Stan, Ford, and Tate looked over.  Jenny, Angie, and the girls were sitting at a nearby table.  The table was in front of a building with a sign reading “Axolotl Eatery”.  Ford stood up.

               “We’re here already?” Ford asked.

               “Yep.  Guess we’ll have to go check out the baby penguins after lunch,” Stan said.  “Let’s get somethin’ to eat.  I’m starving.”  

               “Stanley,” Ford said softly, putting a hand on Stan’s shoulder as Tate walked over to the table.  Stan stopped walking and looked at his twin.

               “Yeah?”

               “Thank you.”

               “It’s no problem.  Gotta have my family getting along, right?” Stan said.  Ford smiled weakly.

               “I mean it.  You knew exactly what would help me bond with Tate.”

               “Well, I’ve known him basically his whole life,” Stan said.  Ford’s smile faltered.  “But you’ll get to know him better than I do eventually.  I mean, you’re his dad.”

               “Yes.  I am.” Ford took a breath.  “The timing is so awful, though.  My surgery-”

               “Isn’t for a week and a half,” Stan finished.  “You’ve got ten days before the surgery to bond with Tate, plus however long Jenny lets him stay afterward.  And so what if you get little loopy from the pain meds?  You really get to know someone when they’re high on Percocet. Trust me.  After the girls were born, Angie kept yammering on and on about how she swears she saw a werewolf in high school.”  Ford shook his head, hiding a smile.

               “You’re ridiculous, Stan.”

               “Yeah.  Come on, let’s go get some exhibit-themed meals.  Before I eat one of the animals from an actual exhibit.”

----- 

               Ford could feel his hands shaking.

               “Hon, it’ll be okay,” Angie said quietly, stroking his freshly shaved head. “Steve is a miracle worker.  The best neurosurgeon in the west.”

               “Stanford,” Stan said.  Ford looked at his twin.  Stan put a five-fingered hand over one of Ford’s six-fingered ones. “Seriously.  Everything’ll be fine.”  Ford nodded.  He could feel tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, like a nervous child.  “You’re not acting like a kid,” Stan said, as though he had read Ford’s mind.  “Brain surgery is pretty damn terrifying.  There’s a reason we aren’t lettin’ the kids come to the hospital until after you get out.” Ford brushed away his tears, which had yet to fall.  The movement jerked his IV, making him hiss.  “I know this whole thing sucks,” Stan continued, “but think about how fuckin’ awesome it’ll be when you’re done.  No more Bill.  At all. Ever.”

               “If it works,” Ford said, his voice quavering.

               “It will,” Stan said firmly.

               “It will,” Angie repeated.  She kissed the top of his head.  A nurse walked into the room.

               “I’m here to take Mr. Pines to the OR,” the nurse said.

               “Dr. Pines,” Stan corrected.  He winked at Ford.  “My twin brother’s got a Ph.D.”  The nurse smiled in a patient manner.

               “All right.  Dr. Pines, it’s time for your neurosurgery.”  Stan patted Ford’s hand one last time.

               “Not gonna do a high six,” Stan said.  “We’ll save that for after.”

               “We’ll be right here when ya wake up,” Angie said quietly.  As he was wheeled out of the room, Ford looked back at Stan and Angie.  They were in a tight embrace, watching him leave.  Stan grinned at Ford.

               “Go kick some ass, Sixer,” Stan called after Ford.    

               Ford smiled. 

[some-good-meme]

Get To Know Me

Tagged by @elliox , thanks man this looks fun haha

Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag however many people you want

(I would put it in the read more but idk how sorry)

THE LAST: 1. Drink: a coke i think 2. Phone call: rescheduling a doctor appointment ha 3. Text message: @elliox talking about buying shorts 4. Song you listened to: stuck in the sound, lets go probly 5. Time you cried: when i found my kitty dead.. well i guess i might have teared up a bit when a close friend left for the summer too,,,

HAVE YOU: 6. Dated someone twice: haha man i cant even get someone once 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: nah 8. Been cheated on: guess not 9. Lost someone special: hasn’t everyone at some point 10. Been depressed: oohhhhh yeah

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: ooohhh buddy yes

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: 12-14: silver, black, that cool green

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU: 15. Made new friends: yeah! and i love em! 16. Fallen out of love: dont think so 17. Laughed until you cried: haha yea good times 18. Found out someone was talking about you: i mean yea but i don’t care, keep it comin 19. Met someone who changed you: honestly that happens everytime i get close to someone and i hate it but yes 20. Found out who your friends are: yeeeah sure did 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: i guess that could count

GENERAL: 22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: i think almost all??? maybe a couple no 23. Do you have any pets: 1 dog, 6 chickens, and i guess 2 kinda 3 cats now 24. Do you want to change your name: i mean i love my name,, but ive loved the name Alex ever since i could remember so idk 25. What did you do for your last Birthday: A hotel, and a heartwarming chat with a friend in the bathtub till like 4 am haha 26. What time did you wake up: i slept in till like 12 today it was good 27. What were you doing at midnight last night: drawin p 28. Name something you can’t wait for: a new start tbh, like the place i was at was good but i cant wait to be completely independent and to move on from some things

29. When was the last time you saw your mom: about a week ago 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: i think ive grown from all the bad stuff so idk, but if i had to choose one id say all the times ive just gone with the flow and it blows up in my face 31. What are you listening to right now: nothing rn cause ive been listening to the same stuff all day haha  32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: mmm dont think so 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: me not being able to tell people how i actually feel !!! 34. Most visited Website: youtube probably cause music hah

LOST QUESTIONS. I JUST PUT IN RANDOM INFO ABOUT ME 35. Mole/s: yeahh, theres moles here 36. Mark/s: couple scars i got for really dumb reasons like burning myself while making cookies or falling off a treadmill hahah 37. Childhood dream: always wanted to be a mermaid , still love mermaids hah 38. Haircolor: brown rn, a little bit of bleached ends 39. Long or short hair: he short  40. Do you have a crush on someone: yea i guess a little one

41. What do you like about yourself: mmmm being able to make friends  42. Piercings: 5 on my ears and one nose ring 43. Bloodtype: ha i really should know this buuut

44. Nickname: smelly haha, oh and asshole alice i think is one 45. Relationship status: there was potential but she lives in Washington (im in Minnesota) 46. Zodiac: aquarius  47. Pronouns: really any i dont care, but i mostly use she/they 48. Favorite TV Show: x files is always good

49. Tattoos: im thinking of getting the solar system around my arm

50. Right or left hand: right 51. Surgery: dose a root canal count ? 52. Hair dyed a different color: used to be orange 53. Sport: used to be in gymnastics 55. Vacation: love Mexico 56. Pair of trainers: uhhhhh nope

MORE GENERAL: 57. Eating: nothing rn 58. Drinking: kinda want some water 59. I’m about to: go downstairs to get some water probly 61. Waiting for: idk to get tired so i can finally sleep i guess 62. Want: $$$! and cats! oh and friends(just in general)!!! 63. Get married: eh,,, if it happens its cool if it doesn’t oh well 64. Career: gonna try to be an animator, if that fails i guess ill run away and live in an abandoned water tower or something

WHICH IS BETTER 65. Hugs or kisses: probly hugs 66. Lips or eyes: i guess eyes,,, but when those lips are good thats 👌👌👌 67. Shorter or taller: no preference i guess 68. Older or younger: also no preference  70. Nice arms or nice stomach: abs are niceeee 71. Sensitive or loud: some of both ? 72. Hook up or relationship: relationship probably 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: troublemaker cause i think im the hesitant one at times

HAVE YOU EVER: 74. Kissed a Stranger: nope 75. Drank hard liquor: yup

76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: many times with the contacts, good thing theyr the daily ones 77. Turned someone down: a real long time ago but

78. Sex on the first date: not into that sorry 79. Broken someone’s heart: sure hope not 80. Had your heart broken: yeah, but its all good now 81. Been arrested: no but i keep having dreams of it and when i wake up i get it confused with reality haha 82. Cried when someone died: of corse 83. Fallen for a friend: ehh i dont think i knew what it was at the time but kindof ??? real lowkey tho real lowkey

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 84. Yourself: not too much lately haha 85. Miracles: i guess 86. Love at first sight: didnt for the longest time but then it happend to me soo 87. Santa Claus: haha no sorry 88. Kiss on the first date: that just seems kinda weird idk

OTHER: 90. Current best friend name: ive got a lot of friends and i dont like ranking them but some are @elliox, @nart-snart, @deez-lockz, @alieyawn, @echeveriia, @the-fourth-musketeer, @lcxiegrey, and @hackin-cactus 91. Eyecolor: hazel 92. Favorite movie: too hard to choose,, i usually just choose a miyazaki movie off the top of my head when i get asked this

I tag: hah well so many have already been tagged,,, but everyone i atted will be tagged i guess @

(if u dont wanna do it thats fine too!)

[kokoro4kakashi]

11(x3) Questions *_*

I let these accidentally buildup but at least I didn’t find myself in a 55 question post like Finny! :P Anyways! Thanks for the tags and lets get started!

Tagged by @noctemquietam​ :)

Their Q’s:

1) Who is your favorite fictional character? Why? Walker Boh, a wizard like character in the Shannara series, because he was a stubborn smartass but also really smart and ended up doing what he had to do.

2) What is your favorite song to listen to? Dunno! It really changes from week to week.

3) History, science, or art? Art History! Seriously, take a class as an elective - it’s fun :)

4) Have you ever played any of the Assassin’s Creed games, and if so, which game/character was your favorite? Nupe! ... did i answer this somewhere else recently? it sounds familiar >_>;

5) Would you join the bad guys if it gave you the opportunity to do the right thing? Now this sounds familiar, too! Did I already respond to your questions??! <_< But to answer... I think so!

6) Elves, dwarves, or humans? Elves

7) What would you do if you found a dragon egg? Would you keep it or give it away? Protect it or kill it? Share it with others or keep it to yourself? Well I doubt I’d be able to handle it myself, so I’d seek help... and if it turned out it was better off with that new person/place... I’d let it stay there, or set it free. I mean, having a dragon is cool and all, but if he/she doesn’t like me ... I doubt it’ll work out.

8) (Bleach fans) What squad would you join if given the option, and what seat would you ask for? Er, no idea... my memory of Bleach is so old! Could I be a subordinate of Toshiro so I can call him nicknames?

9) After years of betraying the village and attempting to assassinate all those that care for him, Sasuke pops out of nowhere and proclaims he will be the next Hokage (village leader). What is your reaction? “Sure... BUT FIRST. Could you help us defeat this thing?’

10) Favorite mythological creature? Does Trico from the Last Guardian count?

11) Do you believe in the supernatural? To a degree

Tagged by @do-you-even-kakashi​ :)

Their Q’s:

1. When’s your birthday? Dec 20

2. Do you know the Muffin Man? i wish, fresh blueberry muffins are AWESOME

3. Favorite Song? Dunno! Now all I have in my head is the Muffin Man song... (you did this to yourself ;) )

4. Do you have time to talk about our lord and savior, Kakashi Hatake? 

5. OTP? Dun really have any! I like MinaKushi but I’m not rabid about em

6. Do you collect anything? Well, kinda... Succulents, some strones/crystals, small-ish Kakashi and Minato figures, unfinished projects...

7. Favorite Book? any of Amy Tan’s books

8. Do you like horror movies? Yus! The worse, the better.

9. Favorite Singer/Band? Dunno! I feel so odd not having one

10. What’s your favorite color? PURPLE

11. If you had to choose between pineapples and the name Jessica, which would you choose? Pineapples. I have my reasons.

Tagged by: @kunoichi-ume​ :)

Their Q’s:

1. If you could get a new season, or reboot, of any anime (and have it be faithful, beautifully animated and voiced by the best actors for the parts) which would it be and why? Omg good question. I’mma come back to this.

2. What was the first anime you watched? Inuyasha

3. If you could choose one thing to be insanely talented in, what would it be? TEH DRAWIN OF STUFFS AND THINGS.

4. Dream job when you were five? Now? Oh I don’t know what I wanted at 5... I remember wanting a better wand for my good witch costume at halloween o_O ... now I just wanna work at something that pays the bills

5. Favorite Fanfiction troupe? Well I dun read it, so I dunno...

6. Ship of all ships? Like if you had to list every ship you have, from any fandom, who is always at the top of the list? Why do people ask me this! I dun ship, hahaha sorries!

7. Favorite anime opening/ending song? Wolf’s Rain ending - ‘Gravity’

8. You can make one character real, have them move in next door and instantly want to be friends (or more wink wink) who is it? Minato. Sorry Kakashi, I am slightly more interested in hearing absolutely every story in his life.

9. If you could become a part of any anime/manga/fictionalverse, which would you choose and what would you want to be in it? Hmm... this is where my non-fanfic reading, or writing dumbass drops the ball... heh, what about Naruto-verse where there were no wars to no one died... course, that’d change how some people were shaped... damnit, I am not good at this stuff.

10. Are you usually late, early, or right on time? (or are you a wizard who sets their own time?) usually right on time cuz i’ve nothing else to do!

11. You forgot the 11th question... that’s alright tho, I’ll make one up for you for me... Er,  Were you always kind and rewind? Yes, yes I was.

Tagging: ... er, I tagged a ton in the last go around and you three tagged a bunch I would tag so I’mma pass on tagging this time! :)

[clan-fuildarach]

birb story chapter 4

nit and nuala get out for the first time, it doesn’t go well

do u like cliffhangers

the tag for this is “#birb story 2017″ if u wanna see the other chapters 

~

The sun made a rare appearance the next day. Watery shafts of sunlight illuminated the compound construction site, glinting off the puddles scattered around the grounds. The rain had stopped, but the think banks of grey clouds still threatened in the distance.

 Nuala sat on the back of the builders’ flat-bed lorry. The thick bandage wrapped around her right hand was already damp from the general atmosphere of the yard, and the puddles on the back of the lorry had already started soaking through her so-called waterproof over-trousers. Compared to the east coast, Mayo was ridiculously damp.

 In the distance, the waves crashed up against the cliffs, plumes of spray just about visible over the sea of deer grass. The boundary wall of the compound only shielded the eastern side, leaving the west open to the Atlantic.

 “Nuala!”

 She glanced around, squinting against the sunlight. Emily strode towards her across the yard, and trailing behind her was Nit. It was the one who’d called out - as Nuala raised her bandaged hand in greeting, Nit pushed past Emily and bounded on ahead. With a strangely stiff-legged bird stride, it reached the lorry and leapt onto the flat-bed.

 “Hi,” Nuala said. “She finally let you out.”

 “I didn’t have a choice,” Emily said, approaching at a more sedate pace. “The vault is ruined.”

 “Nuala, look!”

 Nuala had to turn, smiling faintly. Nit stood in the centre of the flat-bed, its arms spread dramatically. For a moment Nuala wasn’t sure what she was looking at. Something dark seemed to take shape in the air behind Nit, extending far out to either side of the lorry.

 After a couple of seconds, Nit’s wings solidified, casting a heavy shadow on the rest of the lorry. They were enormous, broad and rectangular, tipped with flared, fingerlike primary feathers, each longer than Nuala was tall. The feathers were pitch black, but the parts bared to the sunlight gleamed in a variety of oilspill colours. Fully extended, Nit had a wingspan larger than that of a small plane.

 It watched Nuala expectantly, its eyes wide and very purple.

 “You didn’t… tell us… you had wings,” Emily said, apparently stunned.

 Nuala felt like a parent, duty-bound to congratulate her child. She put her hands together and clapped as hard as she could without hurting her injured palm. “They’re great, Nit!” she said brightly. “Just remember - you can’t fly.”

 Nit’s eager expression faded. It glanced up, at the cloudy sky. Then, with a faint sigh, it folded its wings and moved over to the edge of the lorry. It had to walk hunched over to save its flight feathers from dragging on the wet ground.

 “Why not?” Emily said curiously.

 “Because that’s dangerous,” Nuala said. Explaining her reasoning would not do her any favours, so she didn’t elaborate.

 Nit’s wings flared. Nuala turned, casting it a warning look, but it wasn’t about to take it off. With a beat of its wings it leapt onto a nearby scaffolding tower. Turning its back to the sunlight, it spread its wings to their full extent and settled down.

 “What are you doing?” Nuala said.

 “This place is too damp,” Nit said. “Need to dry off.”

 “That’s actually quite common vulture behaviour,” Emily said in an odd, detached tone. “Nuala, keep an eye on it, will you? You’re the only one it listens to.”

 Nuala nodded. Emily settled down on the edge of the lorry, beside Nuala. “We need to talk about last night,” she said in a low tone.

 Obligingly, Nuala extended her injured hand for inspection. “I saw one of Jennifer’s men drive his truck over here,” she said. “There was a cage on the back, so I put two and two together and went to have a look.”

 “And Jennifer injured you, did she? Your blood was all over the wall.”

 Nuala nodded.

 Emily hesitated for a moment, biting her lip. She pushed up her glasses and fumbled with the cuffs of her white coat. “And you didn’t tell Nit to attack her?”

 “No,” Nuala said. “Nit wouldn’t have attacked her at all, but Jennifer was pointing her gun at me. It was defending me.”

 “Yes, that’s what it said.” Emily flicked a glance over at the air spirit in question. With a rustle like wind moving through a pile of dry leaves, Nit turned. It bounded over to the second lorry parked nearby, the cabin door of which hung open. Nit settled down on the top of the open door, where there really wasn’t a lot of space, and fanned its wings again. This time, it could actually speak to Nuala and Emily.

 “This is true,” it said. “Jennifer was going to shoot the sleeping dart at Nuala.”

 Emily nodded again. “Okay. God, I can’t believe she’d do something like that. As a whole, it was just so… unscientific! We’ve done absolutely no sedative susceptibility tests on Nit, it could have reacted badly to any of the chemicals in the darts. She could have killed it! My heart was racing when I heard, Christ Almighty…”

 Shaking her head in apparent disappointment, Emily gently peeled back Nuala’s bandage. The gash on her palm was surprisingly clean, healing well, but the doctor still tutted.

 “I’ll need to wash that out, to be safe. Wait til I get my equipment…”

 She stood up and hurried away.

 With a thud, Nit dropped onto the flat-bed beside Nuala.

 Nuala held out her hand, showing Nit the diagonal gash that had only just started scabbing over. To her surprise, Nit actually flinched away.

 “What’s the matter?” Nuala said. “Scared I’ll summon you again?”

 “That wasn’t summoning me that you did,” Nit said. “You almost killed yourself doing it, too.”

 “You still came,” Nuala said.

 Nit traced a circle in mid-air with the tip of one claw, then mimed pressing a hand print into the centre of the circle. “This is a summon circle for everything. It’s too strong for a little human like you. And if I hadn’t wiped it out we both would have been in big fucking trouble.”

 “Because other, uh, spirits would have come, too?” Nuala said.

 “Yes,” Nit said. “And they are not as friendly as me.”

 “Okay,” Nuala said, recalling the terrible weakness that had moved through her the night before. Almost immediately after Nit had scrubbed out the circle, she’d started feeling better. No wonder, if the thing had been draining her strength like that. “I won’t be doing that again. But what if I wanted to summon just you, how would I do that?”

 Nit drew a circle on the ground with a mud-encrusted talon. “This is the circle. You draw it in blood, obviously. Your blood, the strength comes from you. This is the symbol for spirits of my order…” It traced a twisting mark onto the circle. “And as quickly as possible, before anything bad is summoned, you put my personal number.”

 “You have a number?” Nuala said. “Like a phone number?”

 Nit looked bewildered, its ears twitching slightly. “No. Just a number.”

 “Which number, then?”

 “Fifty-four.” Using a form of writing totally alien to Nuala, Nit scratched a figure into the centre of the circle. “It works in any language,” Nit said. “And then you do the hand thing.”

 Nuala nodded slowly, memorising the symbols. “So… if you can be measured in numbers, that means there aren’t that many of you, huh?”

 “There are seventy-two in my order,” Nit said. Suddenly, its eyes widened. Its nose twitched. With an eager look Nuala knew well, Nit bounded to its feet and turned to face a builder walking past a few metres away. Clutched in the builder’s hands were a coffee cup and a breakfast roll wrapped in tinfoil. Nit’s intense stare fixed on the roll.

 Slowly, the builder turned, perhaps sensing that it was being watched.

 Maybe Nuala should have called Nit back, but she knew that, really, it wasn’t doing any harm. The builder was safe, and, anyway, he could get another roll from the canteen for free.

 With a couple of bolstering wing beats Nit reached the man. He froze, his face pale, and glanced away, struggling not to notice the creature towering above him. Nit leant over, its wings half-spread, its feathers standing on end, and reached out.

 It caught the hem of the builder’s reflective jacket and tugged.

 That was enough for him - he dropped his coffee and his roll and ran, shedding his jacket as he went. He darted into the nearest building - a pub that had become the builders’ sleeping quarters - and vanished from sight.

 Nit stooped and triumphantly picked up the roll and, after a thoughtful evaluation, the cup of coffee. Its lid had prevented spillage, just about.

 Looking supremely pleased with itself, Nit returned to the lorry. Grinning, Nuala flashed it a thumbs-up sign.

 Someone cleared their throat behind Nuala. Both Nit and Nuala turned to see Emily standing a few paces away, her arms folded.

 “You can’t do that,” she said firmly. “That’s stealing.”

 “No,” Nit said.

 “Yes, it is,” Emily said.

 “The shiny human got it from the food house,” Nit said, pointing over at the canteen. It must have been watching the builder longer than Nuala had realised. Either that or it had seen people leaving the canteen with food and put two and two together. “It doesn’t own the food.”

 “That’s no excuse,” Emily said. She sat down beside Nuala and unzipped her doctor’s bag. “And you were intimidating him, too. If you want people to think you’re not hostile, you can’t go messing around like that.”

 Nit prised off the coffee cup lid, miraculously managing not to splash it anywhere. It took a sniff, hesitated, then peeled back the tinfoil from the roll and dipped it into the cup.

 “This might sting,” Emily said quietly, pouring a clear fluid over Nuala’s hand. Nuala flinched, her skin going numb as the fluid - alcohol, probably - began to vaporise. The alcohol stink floated into the air, making her stomach turn over. Nit sneezed.

 As Emily cleaned out Nuala's wound, Nit finished up its breakfast and sat back down on the flat-bed, scowling down at the pale concrete mud staining its feet. With a self-important huff of breath, it rubbed its palms together and started carefully drawing its fingers through its plumage.

 The sun vanished again, behind the heavy cloud bank. Emily carefully wound a new bandage around Nuala's hand.

 “I've spoken to Dr Feeny,” she said.

 “Who?”

 “That's the man looking out for us in the dáil. I told him that you're not infectious, and he hasn't gotten back to me yet, but I think you might be allowed home soon.”

 “But I don't want to go home,” Nuala said sharply. “I want to go back to college, am I allowed to do that?”

 “In light the death of your professor, David Kilrush, the college is allowing you to repeat second year for no extra charge. So, you can go back next September.”  Nuala's eyes widened. Beside her, Nit stopped preening, its gaze flicking across to her.

 No way was Nuala going to let herself fall behind her classmates. No way. Those fuckers would be third years when Nuala was still a second year, she'd be behind, she'd be less knowledgeable than them. Those lazy little shits were the ones who deserved to get held back, not her.

 “That's fair, isn't it?” Emily said. “You've already missed over a month, you wouldn't pass your exams anyway. They're throwing you a bone here.”

 Nuala practically growled. Casting Emily a hard look, she wrenched her hand back and folded her arms. Nit rose to its feet and wandered away, but Nuala didn't even notice.

 There was no point arguing with Emily, since she was only the bearer of bad news. She was only trying to help. Nuala turned away, already planning out the email she'd have to write to her school board, petitioning them for a shot at the second year end of semester exams. She'd been an 'exemplary student', according to David himself, and he wouldn't have chosen just anyone for such an important excavation.

 A flare of black feathers made her glance around, momentarily distracting her from her fury. Nit stood several paces away, its wings half-folded. Its eyes were flat, focussed on the distance. Frowning, Nuala followed its gaze. Several kilometres away, beyond the crest of a hill, deep in bog territory, the clouds had started darkening. Even as she watched, a flicker of lightning illuminated the hill.

 “What is it?” she said.

 Almost as soon as she asked, Emily's mobile phone rang.

 “Hello?” The doctor rose to her feet and moved away, turning her back on Nuala.

 “The lines are broken,” Nit said.

 Nuala stood up, craning her neck to try to see over the hill. As far as she knew, there was nothing there, just a couple of scraggy mountain sheep. The bog there was too damp and deep to allow vehicles to drive on it, and the probe team hadn't gotten there yet.

 “Which lines?” she said.

 “What?” Emily said loudly. “Are you serious?”  Nit pointed limply, at the flickering threads of lightning over the hill.

 Emily thrust her phone into her pocket and returned to Nuala.

 “I've had reports that there's been a bogslide nearby,” Emily said. “It uncovered another neolithic structure, like Nit's tomb...”

 “And where exactly did it happen?” Nuala said.

 “Slightly east, inland, over in... that direction.” Finally noticing the localised lightning storm on the horizon, Emily trailed off. She pointed. “Just about there, actually. We need to send someone – oh, god, what if a bunch of kids stumble into the tomb, they could die-”  Nit approached Nuala and Emily, its eyes wide and wary.

 “I could go,” Nuala said.

 “No,” Nit said. “You're only safe from one curse, this one is new.”

 “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Emily said. “Okay. How close can we get before the illness gets at us?”

 “If you touch the lines, or if you're there – no, I don't know,” Nit said, “it could be anything, they're all different.” Apparently without realising it, they'd started combing through the feathers of their chest again.

 Emily nodded. “All right. Okay. We'll have to suit up – there's just enough suits left for three scientists, though, and we'll need assistants. And an actual archaeologist.”

 Nuala glanced around at Emily, her eyebrows raised.

 “Not you,” Emily said.

 Lightning flickered in the distance, accompanied by a thready burst of thunder. The darkness in the clouds was spreading, drawing closer. Even the sheep were scared, racing down from the hillside towards Cnoc Mór.

 “I can go,” Nit said. “I am safe.” It shot a sly look across at Nuala. “But to get there fast enough I'll have to fly.”

 Of course. Nuala narrowed her eyes at it, internally warring against the overwhelming instinct to keep Nit grounded, and the sharp curiosity that had sprung up as soon as she'd heard about the new tomb. What if another spirit lay within? What if the pottery was intact, and she could save some and write up a thousand amazing essays-

 “Fine,” she said, abruptly. “Go. But... don't hang around. Check it out and then come straight back, tell us if there's any danger.”

 Nodding eagerly, Nit darted away, to the tangle of scaffolding again. It hauled itself up, reached a suitable perching place, and glanced down at her. Despite the looming maybe-threat, its eyes were bright and shining.

 “We are connected,” it called down to Nuala. “If there's any danger, you'll know.”

 With a blissful smile, Nit launched itself into space. Its wings snapped out, battering Nuala with a hard gale. Not only that, but as Nit climbed into the sky, a lozenge-shaped bird tail faded into existence behind it. With scarcely a flap of its wings, Nit rose effortlessly into the sky.

 “I didn't think it possible,” Emily muttered.

 Nuala could feel the steady, powerful beat of another creature's heart beside her own. She closed her eyes and almost felt the wind pushing her hair back, the light drizzle bouncing off her wonderful, beautiful wings. As soon as Nit got back, she thought, and there wasn't any immediate danger, she'd have to ask it what exactly it meant by 'we're connected'. And, well, everything else it had said about her, too. Not a normal human, for one.

 Hopefully that meant that Nuala would be sprouting a pair of wings herself, soon. She'd never really considered flying, or dreamed of it like some people seemed to do, but now that she could almost understand what it was like, she instantly saw the attraction.

 “It's magic,” Emily said. “I don't have any other explanation. But... well, it exists in this world, so it has to have some kind of logical explanation.”  But it didn't – Nuala knew that much, instinctively.

 “Air spirit,” Emily muttered. “It's like a vulture, it's soaring – I suppose with a surface area like that, the relative coolness of the climate doesn't matter that much. Lozenge tail – like a lammergeier?”

 At this distance, it was almost impossible to tell Nit apart from the other birds wheeling around below the clouds, though its pitch black colouring was rather conspicuous amidst the colonies of grey and white sea birds. It wasn't flapping its wings any more, it was soaring – if Nuala concentrated just hard enough, she could feel it, the buffering press of warm air on her underside, lifting her wings and carrying her along through no effort of her own.

 Then, abruptly, her heart sped up.

 “This is bad,” she said, her eyes wide, fixed on Nit's distant form. It was so far away now that she could barely see it, a tiny black speck in the dark clouds. “This is – this is bad,” she said again, her voice fading.

 “What?” Emily said.

 Nuala couldn't explain it. But whatever they'd just done, it had been a big mistake. Nit wasn't supposed to fly – not because flying itself was wrong, but because Nit had moved too far away from Nuala herself. The distance was the problem. And in that distance, something had snapped.

 “We're exposed,” Nuala said, hardly aware of what she was saying.

 And, just like that, a bolt of lightning arced from the cloudy sky and struck the roof of the community centre. The thunder was immediate, all-consuming, making Nuala wince and flinch away. Smoke rose from the roof.

 The flames didn't seem real, they spread so fast. Suddenly, the entire community centre was ablaze. Builders scurried away like ants from a blazing nest, some of them chancing the drop down from the higher scaffolding. Emily turned on the spot, staring, already reaching for her phone.

 An acrid stench of burning plastic filled the air. A section of scaffolding collapsed with an almighty jangle, poles bouncing off the ground only a metre from Nuala. A builder screamed as a thick wooden platform landed on top of her. Nuala was frozen, rooted to the spot, unable to breathe over the smoke and the knowledge that something was coming.

 A shadow fell over Nuala and Emily, broad and bird-shaped. Nuala's heart pounded and she gasped with relief at the sound of the wing beats pushing the pall of smoke away. She glanced up, and stopped breathing.

 The creature above her was enormous, feathered, and vaguely Nit-shaped, but it wasn't Nit. Its feathers were a grimy white, except for the primary and secondary wing feathers, which were coal black. It was tall, taller than Nit by over a foot, and instead of a pair of pale horns it had a single black horn, in the centre of its forehead. Like the head of a stork, its head and neck were bare and dark grey, wrinkled and ugly. Its feet – enormous, pale feet – stretched out towards Nuala.

 Emily came from nowhere, tackling Nuala to the ground under the lorry. The creature's feet closed on mid-air, but that didn't deter the creature. It snatched at Emily, instead, the claws sinking into her white coat. Nuala stared, unable to move, unable to blink, as the creature landed on top of Emily.

 The enormous, pointed wings folded. Emily struggled weakly, blood soaking into her coat. With a searing blue glare, the creature evaluated the human caught in its talons.

 “You are not the prophet,” it said in a voice like splintering wood.

 “N-” Emily gasped.

 Its pointed ears flicked contemptuously. Emily screeched, blood welling up, as the claws gripped her more tightly. Then the creature straightened up and with a single movement hurled Emily into the side of the second lorry. She hit the edge of the open door. Nuala's breath caught and she gagged, unable to banish the sickening crunch from her mind. Emily slid to the ground, her hair coming free in a filthy puddly, her neck bent at a strange angle.

 “Come out from under there,” the creature said, its voice emotionless.

 Nuala's limbs felt like numb sticks, unresponsive and useless. Slowly, clumsily, she emerged from under the flat-bed.

 “This is the prophet,” the creature said. Its neck was unnervingly long, the skin wrinkled and scarred, its face remarkably like that of the old parish priest that had visited Nuala's national school. “But where is Nithanael?”

 Its pale blue eyes bored into her, shockingly blue beside the smoke and flames consuming the compound. Heat raked at the back of Nuala's head, but she hardly cared about the fire. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the monster in front of her.

 A builder sprinted past her field of view, his reflective vest ablaze. She blinked, and when her eyes opened she was looking again at Emily, the empty eyes and mud-soaked hair.

 “Why did you do that?”  Nuala said, her throat dry.

 The creature's neck twisted, and it glanced over its shoulder. Its wings flared. Nuala pushed herself back, struggling to get under the lorry before she was caught in those claws. But she wasn't fast enough. The creature's foot caught her thigh and she found herself being dragged into the open. The creature hopped, caught her shoulder with its other foot, and beat its wings so hard that the flames engulfing the side of the lorry winked out of existence.

 The ground dropped away under Nuala. She twisted, trying to escape, but all too soon she was too high to weather the fall without damage. After that, she clung onto the creature's feet for dear life, ignoring the pain of its hooked claws poking into her. At least it didn't have talons like Nit, those would have been deadly.

 “In their blood runs fire,” the creature's voice said from above, as if it was quoting a Bible verse. Heat licked at Nuala's back as they flew over the burning building.

 Blood. Yes, of course. Nuala's blood was dangerous. She twisted around, choking on smoke, and struggled to reach one of the claw puncture wounds with her hands. She couldn't – the creature held her tightly, her body parallel with its own. And without access to her blood, Nuala couldn't summon Nit.

 “And it falls,” the creature intoned.

 Nuala turned her head just far enough to see the ground below. Bad news – the creature was ascending vertically, over the burning building. Not a good place for anyone to fall, if indeed Nuala was a prophet. But she'd worry about that later.

 Smoke and heat scorched her eyes. She struggled again, and just as she succeeded in reaching her thigh, the creature let go.