#she likes these more than footage of birds and squirrels

[abby-howard]

Spoons loves carpet-cleaning videos

(She jumps away at the end so she can get a better view)

[bradshawsbaby]

Sarah, I swore I was gonna wait with this one but unfortunately I'm an impulsive little squirrel who can't wait more than two seconds (lol).

I had a thought of Rhett going through an old videotape box that was in the closet because you and him wanted to watch a movie. You and him found a VHS tape with a little piece of masking tape on it that said "Roy and Cece '92-'93" so you, Rhett and his parents decide you're gonna sit down and watch it.

You were totally unprepared for the hilarity that was to ensue.

-You and Rhett absolutely DYING when you saw a shot of Cecelia, eight months pregnant with Rhett, folding up the baby clothes in the nursery and young Royal singing "She's havin my baby". Cecelia threw her shoe at him not two seconds later

-Royal filming two year old Perry who was all pouty and complaining, "I don't wanna stinky baby bruver". Royal learned very quickly that you don't pick a fight with a two year old

-Royal's old pit bull "Chubby" resting his head on Cecelia's bump and freaking out when Baby Rhett kicks

-Cecelia in labor, trying to breathe through the pains and Royal being like "So ya'll want me to get a double wide shot or pan down?". She promptly flipped him the bird and told him "Ya'll get a shot of anything.....and I mean ANYTHING.....coming out down there and I'm gonna kick your ass."

But when you finally see footage of tiny Baby Rhett in Royal's arms, you and him are both laughing and melting all at once, because Cecelia had taken over the filming and young Royal was outright denying that he was crying to which Cecelia laughed and called bullshit. When you heard Royal singing to Baby Rhett too, you knew right then and there that deep down your father-in-law was the biggest softie you'd ever know (lol).

Aww, this is so adorable! 🥹

On the show, I know that Rhett always gets the short end of the stick and his family takes him for granted, but I can’t help but hope that they’ll manage to make things right with him. It’s the sap in me 😂

[insipid-drivel]

This is why we shouldn't use night vision CCTV in the swamp

As is probably well established by now, I live in a swamp that's in the same region as a lot of Bigfoot sightings. I've grown up in this wilderness my whole life, seen and experienced a whole lot of weird crap that is filed away in the "Hey, don't worry about it," part of my brain with the rest of The Horrors.

My mom also did most of her growing up here, but more in the woodlands and plural spaces around housing developments and cities. Basically, where you're more likely to encounter a homeless person or a pigeon in the underbrush than a cryptid or some cool wildlife.

I grew up so deep in these forests and swamps I stay the hell inside after dark and live in blissful ignorance of what goes on outside my bedroom window every night. Some shit I've seen looking in at me. Sometimes it's animals (which was how I found out a storm had knocked over our neighbor's horse fence one night - I suddenly had a Welsh pony pull up to my bedroom window like it was a Wendy's) - sometimes it's just eyes in the shadows that may or may not speak, who cares? Definitely not my little brother's girlfriend who confirmed she sees them too whenever she's here and goes out after dark for a cigarette and runs inside panicked every time they appear. Let's not dwell on it. Moving on.

My mom decided, after becoming thrilled with the huge amount of bird and squirrel traffic I get with my small seed-and-pollinator garden outside of my bedroom window, to set up a motion-activated night vision camera pointed at my feeders to see what may visit in the dark.

Fully-bragging here, but I pretty much have every single species of native bird (and a couple of fucking starlings) that isn't a raptor visit my garden every day. Yesterday I completed my Pokedex when a family of quail came visiting. It's not weird for there to be 15-20+ birds in my garden at once with at least 5 or more individual unique species eating and (mostly) getting along (which some of us could learn from by example, starlings).

I made the tactical decision to bite my tongue about the camera, because this morning, I found I actually wanted to see some of the footage.

Everything was fine when I woke up this morning; my feeders were still rapidly being depleted of birdseed I spend too much of my disability checks on so I can delight my cat and feel like I'm taking care of some of my local wildlife. I use a small trough that I fill will feed for squirrels and the occasional deer that usually takes a couple of days for the locals to empty.

This morning, after having just ROUNDED OFF the ground-trough-feeder with a fresh supply of food the day before, I found the trough completely clean and empty, and dragged several feet away from where I usually leave it. So I asked my mom if she'd review the camera footage, figuring it was probably the same derpy yearling buck with slightly wonky baby-antlers that I've seen eating out of it before.

Nope.

Just a mom with kids to feed. My mom was appalled at the number of them (one of the ways I know she's still domesticated), but I quietly approved and told her that it was probably a mother raccoon and her adolescent babies. I've seen raccoons raising up to 5 kits at a time in places where food is plentiful and the predator count is relatively low. I let my mom know it's totally fine; that the ground feeder is there to feed the nocturnal as well as the diurnal.

The morning quiets down for a few minutes, and I get ready to snooze to the birdsong outside. My mom is still on her phone, half-birdwatching at the foot of my bed, half-scrolling through clips of footage from the rest of that night (which usually is just moths and a stray cat or two setting the camera off), and that's when I heard what I like to wearily call the "There's A Cryptid On My CCTV Gasp".

Look. If you set up cameras in a place like this, you're GOING to see weird shit you can't explain. Part of why I like living out here is because only other people that understand this also live out here. My neighbors and I are all out of our fucking minds, but that's why The Swamp embraces us. If you don't have the psychiatric diagnostic equivalent of a ghost pepper in your brain, you probably won't do well out here. The Swamp is nature's Void: If you gaze long into it, it will gaze back into you. My System of alter personalities smile like idiots and wave into the Void while some of them full-on make out in front of the Void with reckless abandon.

My mom just stammers at first, and and then is like, "I... don't know what that is? It looks like a cat? But I've NEVER seen a cat that big..." Ironically ignoring my cat, who I rescued as a tiny "standard size" kitten from a shelter and found out the hard way that she's actually very much a Maine Coon.

My mom, shaken, shows me the best still she could get from the clip the camera took of The Creature:

She's pale, and visibly unnerved as she brings me her phone with the actual clip of this animal in it. Of course the footage is shittier than when we just had raccoons out there. Didn't you read what I just wrote? The Swamp will not abide your attempts to spoil its fuckery.

But I nevertheless watched this 2-3 second clip of this animal walking by the ground feeder. It's about the size of a medium dog, has no tail, and walks with a very feline gait. My mom is practically freaking out at this point, her voice actually trembling when she keeps asking me "What do you think it is?"

There's a long, heavy silence as I replay the clip a couple more times, just watching this thing move and confirming that, indeed, it's too big to be a domestic cat, but too small to be a mountain lion, and has no discernible tail.

"Mother, it's a bobcat."

"That can't be!"

>therewere5raccoonsthereandit'sabobcatgoodlordmom.mp4

So I pulled up a google search and showed her:

"Oh."

[elicular]

So, I wrote a story in response to a writing prompt, and people seem to like it. I'm also pretty happy with how it came out. So I'll share it here too.

TW: Transphobia, dementia, death

---

At first, you just wanted to know what was messing with your birdfeeder.

If it was actual birds, you could deal with having to put it back up every morning, but if it was squirrels, you'd want to figure out how to get them to fuck off. So you set up a yard camera, expecting to check the video the next day.

When you woke up, you had video, but you no longer had a camera. Said video showed small, flittering humanoids with glossy insect wings and bright compound eyes working together to disrupt your feeder. One then noticed the camera, to which they obviously took great offense, given that they pulled out a large number of knives made of insect stingers and thorns. You're not entirely clear on how those things managed to punch holes in something made of plastic, glass, and metal, but you also know there are questions that you can do without the answers to.

Your grandparents warned you about this. You'd never taken it as seriously as apparently you should have, imagining that it was just stories that their own grandparents had brought with them from Ireland/wherever grandpa's folks were from. You may have still had one of them living with you, but the last thing you were interested in doing was confusing your Alzheimer's-afflicted Gram when she was having a pretty lucid day. So instead you told her that you weren't sure what chewed on it, but you'd decided to leave it alone.

Instead, you found the old storybooks they would read to you and looked those over as quickly as you could to refresh your memory. Your general understanding is that you'd better be polite, respect their space, and not try to be more clever than you are. You were raised as a girl in the Catholic church, so those first two are already second nature. It's the third one that might be a problem. So you make a deal with yourself (seems you make a lot of those these days) that you'll never try to bargain with them unless you have no other choice.

So you spend a long day typing up a letter, then come outside in the evening and read it aloud, being sure that you don't trip over any words.

"To whom it may concern,

I purchased a camera without knowing that you had taken residence on my property. In my ignorance, I worry that I may have caused you offense. Let this be your notice that I will not replace the camera. I do not consider you indebted to me or believe that I have any leverage over you. If you would like me to delete the footage I have recorded, I will do so.

With sincere apologies for any impropriety,

The man currently taking residence in this house."

You "signed" the paper in pen. You considered putting a bloody thumbprint on it, but giving them your prints and DNA felt a little too…intimate? Admittedly, you're not sure what they'd do with those, but you're fairly sure you'd prefer not to find out. So you tape the paper to your birdfeeder once you've finished reading it. Gram asks what the hell you think you're doing. She calls you by your dead uncle's name. Testosterone is a magical thing.

The next day you discover the birdfeeder still hanging in place, albeit emptied of seeds. The paper remains too, covered in sticky little handprints. You decide that that's as good a confirmation as you're going to get, so you fold it and tape it underneath your mailbox for lack of anywhere more appropriate to put it. A contract signed? Wouldn't be the worst piece of paper in your life.

Gram's been gardening her whole life, but in the past few years of living alone, her plants have all long since died. You wonder if that's why the fairies moved in. Given that, you use the same method to ask permission to begin a garden again, both reading and writing that they can communicate disagreement by tearing the paper apart. You get a sticky-printed, fully intact paper back the next morning. You decide you should keep these and make yourself a "fae contract" folder, and you put it on the desk along with other important documents.

With tacit approval, you look online for how one starts gardening, then immediately get overwhelmed by the amount of information and quit. Instead, you try talking to Gram about it, and she's spent long enough in this house to know what will grow well. You check to make sure the climate hasn't gotten too much hotter for some of the plants, and once you've done that, at her suggestion, you start with zucchini, green onions, and coneflowers. You also try to learn more via the internet, taking notes of all the complicated shit that apparently goes into gardening. God damn. You had no idea.

You have Gram watch you while you put the new garden together as best you can. You suck. Objectively. And she isn't able to help most days. But the plants are hardy enough that you can only fuck them up so badly. And soon you've got way more goddamn zucchinis than anyone could ever know what to do with.

You give some to your mom. Every Sunday, Mom comes and takes Gram to church. You're pretty sure it makes her happy, and you know she would have wanted that to be the case before it got this bad. Mom keeps trying to get into the house and you keep not letting her. She calls you by your old name. It confuses the hell out of Gram. And she's always trying to get her "back to reality". It's not healthy.

…you wonder if you're just keeping an old woman away from her beloved daughter because of your issues.

The fairies like the zucchini. Thank god. They like the chocolate zucchini bread that you learn to make from a twink on tiktok even better. You haven't told your internet friends about them. You don't know if they'd believe you. You hardly know if you believe yourself.

Over the next five years, the garden grows. On year two, the fairies provided requests. You don't know where they found the paper, but you're pretty sure they drew the pictures of plants in berry juice. Luckily, they're pretty good artists, so you're able to start growing the beautyberries and sugarsnap peas they ask for.

Gram gets weaker and weaker. She's wheelchair bound all the time by year three. You offer to help your mom make her minivan wheelchair accessible, and she tells you that that's men's work. That's obviously as stupid to her as it is to you, especially considering that this means she's going to be doing it alone, but apparently she can live with that.

In year four, Mom and Gram have a fight. You don't know the details. Gram asks you to bring her to confession, and you do so as soon as possible. Nobody recognizes you. You appreciate that. On the way home, she tells you to "give it to the fairies". You ask her what she means. She asks what you're talking about. You redirect and that's the end of that.

Year five. You hire a full time nurse. It's expensive as hell, but Gram needs it. And you don't want to leave her. You've read too many horror stories about retirement homes. The nurses spend even more time with Gram than you do. The main three are a pleasantly grouchy middle-aged woman, an unpleasantly grouchy middle-aged woman, and a young man who's honestly kind of cute, but you've never let yourself indulge your bisexuality. Not while your Mom is watching. And it feels like she always is, even though she never visits anymore.

Year six. Gram's breast cancer's come back. Your mom asks you if you're planning to have her mutilated the same way you did to yourself. You tell her to go fuck herself. That's about how that goes. Gram's waking moments become rarer, never mind lucid ones, but in one such rare moment, she tells you not to spend all your money on her. She tells you she's ready. You bring a priest over to give her last rites. Again. You're doing that daily it seems. And one day the unpleasantly grumpy middle-aged woman wakes you up and tells you that your grandmother is dead. You're honestly glad it was her. The others would have tried to say it gentler. You tell the fairies, not sure whether or not they'll care. If they do, they don't show it.

Only your mother recognizes you at the funeral, so you don't stay long. The obituary says she's survived by her daughter and two still-living sons, and her many grandchildren, particularly her granddaughter. Your mom wrote it.

…bitch.

The reading of the will is coming. As far as you know, she never updated it. Apparently you're wrong about that. She must have somehow convinced a nurse to let her talk to an attorney, who she must have convinced she was lucid, because she left the house to your dead uncle.

Nobody else in the family has that name, after all.

…legally. Your mother made sure of that. You don't know how, but she did.

The previous will left it to her three remaining children. Apparently they've agreed to sell it. You don't know what will become of it after that. What will become of the garden. What will become of the fairies.

You only manage to go outside and tell them after falling off the wagon for the first time since you moved in here. You don't remember what you say to them. You hope you don't say anything disrespectful. You bring out one of the folders of important documents. You think it's theirs. Or something. The clearest memory you have is crying (like a little girl) for them to take it all away.

The next morning, you wake up, head surprisingly free of pain. You're pretty sure you remember falling asleep outside, but you're on the couch instead. The folder is wet. When you open it, you find out it's for actual legal documents.

One of them is your birth certificate.

It was ripped apart. Then taped back together.

Your mother remembers. She doesn't understand it, but she remembers. Nobody else seems to though. All they know is that the newer will is obviously referring to you by the name you were given when you were born.

You make as much chocolate zucchini bread as you possibly can and leave it out that night. And then you go to the graveyard and leave bouquets of coneflowers on the graves of your grandmother and your uncle with the unusually feminine name.

[bgallen]

Bearded dragons, Gibson Girls, and saving the best birthday for last! 2

Welcome to September and a holiday weekend here in the US, for most people anyway.

This week I have a much shorter list than last week and a very random one at that.

This coming Monday (the 4th) is my Mama’s birthday, and I am looking forward to celebrating! She is beautiful, clever, highly efficient, and a joy to be around (super short list). I am incredibly grateful for her.

 I hope you enjoy this short list I’ve compiled. Have a wonderful weekend of rest, fun, and all the fun things on this Labor Day weekend.

·       Bearded Dragon Spoons With His Favorite Sock | The Dodo - YouTube, I trained on showing a bearded dragon when I first began working at the zoo. His name was Buford and he was so much fun to work with. Did you know that they have a third eye?!

·       Sean Magee - Tippin' It Up To Nancy [Official Music Video] 4K HDR - YouTube, love this – it’s so good.  

·       Gibson Girls Clocking in - AI Breathes New Life into 1904 Film - YouTube, it’s always fascinating to me to find and view footage like this Glamour Daze has done an incredible job restoring the video and adding sound. Their wee purses hung right at their belts is so clever.

·       Dolly Parton - Magic Man (Carl Version) (feat. Ann Wilson) (Official Audio) - YouTube, I enjoyed this cover by Dolly with an appearance by Ann.

·       Heart-Magic Man - YouTube, and of course here is the original. Heart is one of my favorites.

·       The Edwardians had Cosmetic Surgery & it Wasn't Dissimilar to Today - YouTube, just in case you think 2023 is special…and they are “correcting” essentially the same things that people correct today. Fascinating!

·       Chinese Snowball Viburnum Bush Vs Hydranga - Birds and Blooms, I didn’t realize how very similar the two of these plants are! An easy way to distinguish them is by size. The Chinese Snowball is much taller than a Hydrangea, up to five feet more!

·       8 Nutty and Fun Facts About Squirrels - Birds and Blooms, one of the saddest parts of leaving the Midwest for the South…was no longer seeing black squirrels. Did you know that squirrels can run up to 20 mph?!

Happiest of weekends to you!

[onsunnyside]

When the forecast says it’s gonna rain really hard, bambi starts preparing a place in the tower (kinda like her nest) for any animal she sees outside without a shelter. She tries to sneak all of them inside without anyone knowing but doesn’t know that people can see her through the security cameras. So when they are caught they all stare like 😐🙂

oh how I miss Bambi !!! Lover of animals and always eager to help🥺

“Uhm, where are you going with all of that?”

You slowly turn around, your arms full of snacks and drinks. There’s also a leaf stuck to the bottom of your pants along with some dried mud.

“…Nest.”

Steve stands from the couch, glancing out the window. “Oh, baby, are you scared of the storm again? I’ll get Bucky to make you some hot chocolate.”

You roll on the heels of your feet, carefully watching him come closer. Your heart speeds up. “Have question… birds like hot chocolate too?”

“Uh, I don’t know? Maybe the marshmallows more than the hot chocolate.” Steve smells the dried rain on you, “are you going to your nest with all of that?”

“Not my nest.” You step in front of him, blocking the hallway. “Made new…”

“Okay?” He drags out the word. “Can I come?” He already knows something is going on.

“Don’t know, made special nest…”

The elevator dings before the doors slide open, Natasha exits with Tony on her tail.

The brunet clears his throat, “if it isn’t the kidnapper.”

Steve pulls a face, “Tony.”

“No, he’s right.” Natasha can’t help but smile, “Bambi, do you have anything to confess?”

“No!” You exclaim, jumping as a packet of crackers fall to the floor. “Have done no wrong. Tony is liar, Stevie, let’s go.” You grab his arm, trying to tug him away but he stands firm, not even swaying.

Your eyes widen as the tablet is placed in his hands, the security footage already playing.

Tony tuts softly, a teasing look on his face. “Well, animal-napper would be a proper term.”

Steve stares down at the device, watching you slip in and out from window on the first floor of the compound. You do this a few times, each time you climb back through the window, the duffel bag looks heavier. He taps on the screen before footage of you tucking wild animals into a mass of blankets and pillows in one of the meeting rooms. There’s also leaves, sticks, and trails of mud and rain on the floor.

There are different creatures. Like rabbits, birds and squirrels—how did you catch those? He has no clue. The audio flows through the air, your voice softly speaking to the animals as you fuss over the blankets.

“Keep safe here… too cold and wet outside, friends can have home for little bit—will find nicer place later.” You pause, “Stevie says wild animals dangerous… but I can protect. Am very strong, know that, mister bunny?”

“Nothing to hide, huh? Where are you taking all that, nymph?”

You look between each of them, your gaze meeting Steve’s one last time before you whip around and race down the hall. Snacks and drinks fall to the ground and leave a trail behind you.

Steve is still for a moment, wincing as a jar of pickles lands on the floor, thankfully not shattering.

“Steve.”

He sighs, a fond grin on his face as he hears the door slam shut and lock. “On it.”

[jamiedc-they-them]

Clean Slate (Platonic)

Requested Imagine: A debt in your hometown comes back to haunt you and sends you and your best friend into a tailspin of credit cards, cops, running and shouting.

“We don’t have to do this.” Your older sister (not by blood) told you as she continued to drive you, passing the sign that said, “Welcome to New Orleans”. This was it, no going back.

Well, there was. But you knew how Daisy could be with dramatics.

“You didn’t have to come.” You told her, even if thankful she came.

“Of course, I was going to come with you.” She said, firmly.

“You don’t owe me anything, Daisy.” You responded with, looking away from the mirror and meeting her gaze as she turned her head to look at you for a moment before it went back to the road.

“This isn’t about debts. I know I don’t, just as much as you don’t with him.”

“I do. SHIELD fucked that up. Besides, I know what it’s like to be blindsided like that.” You were stubborn.

But so was she, “There’s more to life than just ticking off boxes for people that are never gonna fully be done with you.”

You closed your eyes as you let out a sigh through your nose.

Daisy knew a thing or two about owing people, a lot of people. But she was always one who knew that those debts would never fully be paid off. She knew it wouldn’t work; that whoever it was would never be satisfied.

Did she say any of that as she drove into where your home was? Fuck no. You were her friend, her best friend, and a younger sibling to her. She hated this but loved you. She’d go the ends of the earth for any of you; it was why she kept driving and didn’t mention any of it.  

She pulled up at what used to be your old house. It had definitely seen better days, it looked like a wreck.

“You used to live here?” She asked, looking at the dump of a place. Although, in your mind, she lived in a van, so wasn’t one to talk.

“You’re one to talk. I’ve been in that van now for what seems to be a lifetime.” You heard Daisy make a noise that was offended by what you said. She let it go, however, and let you go in and grab what you needed.

You walked into your home, being hit with a wave of nostalgia. You remembered yourself sat on the couch that was still rotting away, shoving a needle into your arm. Some would say that would be death you were putting into your body; you would call it life instead. It kept you going. It made you say “Yes, one day, I will get enough.” And yet SHIELD hadn’t given you a pay check so…fuck.

Still, you removed one of the floorboards, finding an old squirrel fund you had kept for a while. Somehow, no one had found it.

You then heard your name being called, and saw Daisy holding a phone, and an uneasy look on her face.

Your heartrate picked up as you approached her, taking the phone from her and putting it to your ear.

“There they are.” The voice said to you, and you could almost hear how glad he was to know it was you; and that you both knew where this was going to go.

“Marcus.” You said, trying to not let the fear show.

“Aye, lass.” But he could still tell how you were feeling about this, “Wee bird told me you came home. Thought I’d give my favourite customer a call. See how they’re doing.” You were surprised at how easy you found the thick Scottishness in his voice; Fitz had helped with that, of course.

You closed your eyes and took a breath, “What do you want?”

His tone went serious, “Fuck do you think, love? My money.” Of course. He didn’t give you a chance to respond, he only hung up.

You pulled the phone from your ear, turning to Daisy who was leaning her hands against the hood of the van, she rose an eyebrow.

“You can go, you know?”

She didn’t say anything, she didn’t move either, “Daisy, I’m serious. Go, I’ll meet you when I’m done.”

She spoke then, “Give me the phone.”

“Daisy –”

She moved over to you and held out her hand, “I’m not letting you do this alone.”

“Daisy –” Your voice was more serious as you gave her the phone.

“I’m just…worried about you, alright? You came back here for a reason.”

“I need to do this Daisy. I have to make it right.”

Daisy sighed, “Not alone. And besides –”

“You’re my friend, Y/N. And I’m coming with you.” She said, in her tone that meant ‘this is final’.

You had no choice but to nod, “Ok, let’s save our asses.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your first stop was a bar. It was one that had a familiar vibe to it for you. And the person you saw tending it brought more than just a familiar vibe, it brought feelings to you. She still looked the same, still with her long burgundy hair, electric blue eyes. It was like she had never changed.

Then you saw the name she had on her name tag; it was different.

There was barely anyone else in this bar. It was just you, Daisy, her, and about 2 other people who didn’t seem to care of the new company.

However, she then looked up, freezing just as you had when you saw her. The pair of you were frozen, just staring at each other.

“Y/N.” She spoke. Daisy felt the atmosphere shift from cosey and inviting, to cold and distant.

“’Madison’.” You greeted back, reading the name tag she wore.

She looked at it and chuckled, “Yeah, well, desperate times and all that. You know how Marcus is.”

You took a step towards her as she came around from behind the bar. The two of you inched closer and closer…Daisy watched on warily.

“I know he wants his money back.” You said, bluntly.

“Ah, I bet he does. After that stunt you pulled.” ‘Madison’ threw back at you.

“That was SHIELD –” You never got to finish your sentence, as ‘Madison’ had struck you on the face.

You retorted with your own. The two of you then found yourself with two arms holding each other as you both threw yourself into the bar, heads colliding with the pumps. You both groaned at your less than stellar plan.

“SHIELD picked me up! You don’t think I wanted to come back!” You yelled as she smashed a bottle on the table.

“Then why didn’t you?” She asked as she attacked you with the bottle. You jumped back, before slamming your head into hers.

“I was trying to –” She counted with a kick between your legs.

“I had to change my name because of that bastard! And you come back!” She exclaimed.

“Then why are you mad at me?!” You said, on your knees, holding between your legs.

“…Because you left, and I had no idea where you were. I thought you were dead.”  She admitted, voice going quieter.

Daisy then made herself known, putting her arm under your own and helping you up, “Why not help us? We could use an extra pair of hands?” She asked, despite her first impression of the woman.

She looked from you to Daisy and back again. She then turned to other two customers, “See those two?” Daisy nodded, still holding onto you, “They’re new. They don’t exactly know the tricks we do.” Daisy saw where this was going.

“We got it.” Daisy assured her, checking on you one more time as you had seemed to be more stable now.

“You do?” Madison seemed almost surprised.

“Trust me, I had to do my fair share of that to pay for shit.” With that, the pair of you went over to the two. You sat next to them.

It was like you’d never left; and it seemed Daisy did have a lot of experience of this. It was a simple gig really: sit next to them, pretended to be their friend, chat them up about whatever they wanted and pretended like you cared. If you couldn’t get close without them noticing, then you’d have to improvise…like Daisy was. Still, whatever worked and got you close, worked and got you close.

As you reached into the pocket and found what you were fishing for as your man had passed out, you saw Daisy deeply kissing her man as she seemed to be on autopilot with getting the card and some money out of the pocket.

She seemed to be a pro.

When the two stumbled out, the three counted up the earnings the two of you had gathered.

Was it much? No, but it was a start.

“I can take some things from here, if we can get that out of our way.” At ‘that’ Madison pointed to a camera that was watching you.

“I got that, you take what you can and then we’ll go.” Daisy said, going to probably loop the footage of you all sitting there just moments ago.

That left the two of you.

“So,” Madison started as she poured you a drink and put it on the table, “What brought you home?”

“Something happened at SHIELD. Daisy had to get away from it all. I went with.” You answered as you took a sip of your beer.

“Why?”

“I couldn’t just leave her alone. She’s looked after me all this time I’ve been there, figured I’d return the favour.”

Madison sighed, “You’re a good friend.”

“She’s an even better one.”

There was a drag in the conversation following that. The only sound being you drinking, and her checking pumps and cleaning tables.

“I’m sorry you had to change your name.”

“It’s not your fault, it’s his. Besides, always kind of hoped you’d come back.” She said, stopping what shew as doing and turning to you, a light now in her eyes.

“You did?”

She smiled, “Yeah.” You smiled too.

 Daisy had looped the footage, and the three of you drove to the French Quatre. It was still as lively as ever.

And that meant opportunity, that meant money. That meant making it.

It led you all to an ATM, with cards upon cards. It was close to midnight, and all you three were doing was trying the cards you had gotten. Putting in pins and taking out cash.

You ran out of yet another establishment, this time chased by guards. As you ran, you did see Daisy relax a little, seemed she had gotten something out of this too.

Your feet slammed against the pavement, but you still heard your chasers. Daisy quaked up to the roof, while you and Madison dove right into a dark alley way, just around a corner from where your foes were coming from.

You had lost them.          

Daisy came down to join you. And, for once, the three of you laughed. You checked that the coast was clear one more time, before making your way to the ATM.

You did it, you somehow had just about enough. Daisy gave you a pat on the shoulder, while Madison gave you a peck on the cheek. You missed Daisy’s smile slip just for a second before it was back.

You then got out your phone, dialling the number that had called you.

Marcus answered almost immediately, “What?”

“I got it.” You said, proud of your actions.

He barked out a laugh, “Aye, you did? Well fan-fucking-tastic. Only, you daft cunt, you made a ruck doing it! You got coppers and what not looking for you. Aye, and little ol’ Jenny somehow come back to life, aye? I guess then, if you’re so fucking good at your job, you’d pay off her’s too, eh? See you at 3.” With that, he hung up.

Your smile was gone, “What is it? What’s wrong?” Daisy asked, concern now in her gaze and tone.

“He knows you’re alive.” You said, looking to Madison, who paled, “And he wants your share of the load.” She gulped.

Fuck.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How much do you owe him?” Daisy asked as the three of you sat in Daisy’s van.

“Between us, or separate?” You asked, pointing between yourself and Madison.

“I guess separate.” Daisy answered.

You looked at Madison, the pair of your quickly doing some mental math in your head, “Well, we’ve gotten mine.” You reminded Daisy. She nodded at the answer.

“About 5 grand.” She then looked to Madison.

Finally, Madison answered, “About $36,200 between us.”

Daisy’s eyes widened, “What?!” She sounded like it should be a shriek but was a whisper instead.

“There was a deal. One we did before Y/N got picked up by your lot. Quite a big load of women coming in.” Madison looked to you.

You knew what she wanted; and so, you continued the tale, “We didn’t let it happen. Then SHIELD came and got me. And Madison here…well.” You knew what she did.

“What’d she does?” Daisy pushed.

“Went off grid. New name, same place. Safest place from a Whale is inside its own belly, after all.” Madison seemingly decided to give just enough information.

And it seemed to be enough for Daisy, “So, how long do we have?” She asked.

“With Marcus? He said a few hours –”

“That’s not long enough.” Daisy argued.

“It would’ve been longer if I wasn’t here.” Madison looked down a bit as she said that, like a wounded animal. You grabbed her hand, rubbing your thumb on her knuckles. She looked at you but couldn’t manage a smile.

“Ok. So, we can’t get out without being spotted, and we can’t get the money – well, that amount of money, without getting seen. So, what’s the plan guys?” As you said that, you all ducked down as you heard a cop car go past. Its sirens were blaring as it raced past, so you knew it wasn’t for you; still, couldn’t be too careful.

When it passed, you all slowly got back up, the lights from the street being your only source of light through Daisy’s curtained windows.

Ok, maybe you were starting to get an appreciation for the van life after all.

Still, you had to get the money. You had to have a clean slate. You had to get Madison out of this life.

You looked at Daisy, and she saw that you genuinely cared for Madison. And, despite her first thoughts on the girl, she had grown on her. She saw the light she brought to your eyes.

It was the same way Lincoln brought that same kind of light to her life.

She saw you look out the window, you had a face she had seen before; if this was any other time, she’d go along with whatever you were going to say.

Here, not so much.

“Y/N –” Her tone was tense, there was an edge to it. There was a warning.

“You two stay here and –”

“No!”

“Hell no!” the two women exclaimed in sync. Daisy the former and Madison the latter.

“Y/N, you can’t just –”

“Would you rather we all go out together and risk getting caught? Or splitting up? Look, Daisy, I’m sorry I dragged you into this, ok? Really, I am. But we don’t have a lot of time.” You said as you got a pistol out of your bag.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! The hell are you planning?” Daisy asked, grabbing the pistol and lowering it.

“Desperate time and measures.” You justified it as, putting the pistol in your back pocket, “Look, do you want to the bank, or am I taking it? There’s only three options we have here in the short space of time; and none of them good.”

You then looked to Madison, “I got the streets. Regular and all that.” You nodded, that left Daisy with another option.

She didn’t look pleased, “I’m doing the bank job,” She said, ripping the pistol from you and putting it in her back pocket instead, “You go to the bars we haven’t gotten before. But remember, low profile.” She warned, pointing a finger at both of you.

God, she seemed destined to always play big sister.

You gave her a mock salute, “You’re about to rob a bank, Daisy.”

“Yeah, but I have a name to go with that. If we get too much, we’ll use what we have left to help us against the Watchdogs.” Daisy said, getting out the back of the van before you could argue any further.

You and Madison looked at each other, a silent, “Be careful” being exchanged between you both. You shared one more kiss, before you went your separate ways.

 There was one more bar you hadn’t hit yet. It was a packed one, despite the time it was.

Still, you entered, looking for any sort of prey. Your eyes scanned the crowds, mainly large crowds in the area. Well, that could work in your advantage, but it could also be a hindrance.

Still, you went with “fuck it.” And walked further in, trying not to look like a desperate loser.

Your hand went into one pocket, and you got as far as the car, when a hand grabbed yours: a friend of his. He shook his head, and you put it back. He didn’t tell his friend, he only looked at you with bitter hatred.

That was enough of an arse kicking on its own.

So, no money, and arse kicking and a bar fight later and you were out. You made your way over to the van, seeing Daisy sat in the van, but laying low.

You opened the van back door, only to be punched in the face. Whoever had done that – not Daisy – had taken off running. As you readjusted yourself, your heartbeat rose.

They had the bag.

You got up, not caring about being careful anymore. Desperation ran through you.

You pulled the pistol, running after someone who would – whether they meant to or not – cause your death.

You pulled the trigger, and they went down. You ran, cars stopping and some screeching to a halt. You grabbed the bag the person had. You opened it –

And nothing was inside.

You then heard a van honk, and yours came careening around the corner. It stopped just next to you, “Get in!” Daisy called, with Madison pulling the side door open.

You were in, and you were gone the next moment.

 Either no one had called the cops on you, or they weren’t doing as good as you thought they were. You had gone back to Madison’s bar, and the three of you sat in it; you stared at what you had managed to garner as a three –

“$2,832. And it’s…” Daisy checked her phone, “2:51 am.” Her words came out slower, as she realised how fucked you guys were.

You stood up and started pacing, “I’m sorry, I should never have come back.”

Madison stood up, going to you and holding your hands in your own, “Hey, you know Marcus. Whatever you bring him, ain’t enough. He’d find a way to bleed you dry just like those cards, but he’d keep going,” She grabbed your shoulders, “Y/N, look at me,” You did so, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think…even if we got what he wanted, that it’d be enough. I mean, look at me; I had to change my name and what not. He just works people until they get shot, then calls it off.”

You looked at Madison, and you knew; you knew that she was right. You then looked to Daisy, “Put what we got in the van.”

She tilted her head in a questioning manner, “What you thinking?” She asked, as she pooled all the money with arm and watched it all fall into a bag.

For once, it was almost like old times, with that look on your face returning; and she supported it this time.

It was a face that told her you had a plan.

“We take that money, split it between us. He gets none of it.” You said, looking at your friends and seeing if they’d disagree. They shared a look and nodded in sync.

Ok then, here you went.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daisy had taken the van away a bit, hiding it in a different location that wouldn’t be as easily accessible.

You all waited as the time ticked down. If anything, it seemed to slow down.

Still, after what seemed like 2 hours – but what was really 3 minutes – it was time. The clock silent struck 3.

And, right on time, he entered the bar. He hadn’t really changed, it seemed. Still an old man with a moustache that was well kept but everything else on him – clothing, hair, jewellery – was not.

“So, I’m here. Where the fuck is my money, lass?” He asked.

“We don’t have it. And, even if we did, you wouldn’t get a cent.” You said, standing tall.

He whistled, “Aye? And where’d all this backbone come from then, eh? Because last time we called, you were willing to suck my fucking dick dry to make amends. Now, here you are, telling me I’m not allowed to have my own fucking money?” His temper was rising.

“You wouldn’t be happy with that though, would you?” Daisy asked from where she stood, to your right and leaning against one of the backrests.

Marcus finally looked at her. He looked at a TV that wasn’t on, then back down to her. From her to the tv, from the tv to her.

“You must be the one on the telly, Quake? Or whatever the fuck they call you now?”

Daisy just held his stare.

“This ain’t your fight, lass. Just between me and them two cunts and what they owe, me.” He said, looking at you and clenching his teeth together at the last part of the sentence.

“It is my fight, when it involves my friends.” She said firmly, moving away from the rest and to your side, fists clenched.

Marcus let out what seemed to be a scoff and a laugh all in one; and none having good connotations with them, “Loyal. I’ll give you that. Even if, in this case, not going to pay off the way you want.” He warned her.

The front door opened, with two of his goons coming in. Madison barely had time to turn before she was pinned against her bar.

“Hey –” Daisy said, going to step in, when Marcus waggled his finger.

“Told you.” He said, in a sing song kind of voice.

“Run.” Daisy advised, even pushing you in that direction.

You did, as fast as you could up the stairs to the toilets.

Marcus passed Daisy, “I so much as feel this building shake, and I will fucking kill you all, alright?” He threatened, before coming after you.

You found yourself in one of the cubicles, “You know, Y/N. I always wondered where you went. Then a man by the name of Phil Coulson comes knocking at my door, asking about an agent Y/N and Johnson. Course, I told them the truth…” As he spoked, you saw his feet stop by a cubicle and heard the door be booted open, “That I knew nothing of you. To be honest, thought you were dead. Would’ve been happy with that. Then you show up, and you left me no choice,” He kicked another open; you had nowhere to go, “But, maybe…maybe I can amend that now.” He booted in your door. And, despite your efforts and struggled, he slammed you into the sink. As you saw your own reflection, a cord went around your neck and he hoisted you up into the air before your feet touched the floor, but you were on tiptoes.

In his voice, there was no joy, “Don’t fight this, Y/N. Don’t fight it. This’ll fix everything.”

The door burst open, but he grabbed a pistol and fired at the entrance, “Take one more fucking step and I’ll blow their fucking –” He didn’t get to finish, as you hit him in the guy with your elbow. The cord went from your neck, and you hit him with your head and sent him back.

Madison was next, slamming him in the fist with her fist. As he spun around with the pistol, Daisy quaked it away, before quaking him into the wall. He slumped down.

The three of your shared a look.

Madison had a car – stolen of course – but a car and a home. The three of you carried Marcus’ body down the stairs and outside to the car. You slammed the boot lid closed as the three of you shared a look.

You looked to Madison, pulling her into a hug and putting your chin on her shoulder. You pulled away, “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” She said with a smile, but it was a sad one.

Daisy then hugged her next, “Thank you for your help.”

“Y/N is my…. friend, too. I’ll get Marcus here somewhere he belongs, then I’ll get a new ride. Heard there’s some good ones moving in.”

You pulled out a key in your back pocket, “Here,” You said, throwing it to Madison, “It’s yours.”

She looked from the key to you, “You serious?” She asked, excitement growing in her tone.

“Yeah. You’re my friend, might as well pay off the debt I can, huh?” She laughed, before hugging you again in thanks. She gave your cheek a kiss, before going to the car and driving off.

 You and Daisy saw the “Thank you for visiting New Orleans!” sign as you drove away. Your phone blinked with a text. Looking at it, you saw it to be Madison: “He’s with the NOPD now :D” The text read.

You looked to Daisy, showing it to her.

She smiled, before moving her hand over to yours and squeezing it and then going back to the wheel.

You were leaving your home, now in your new one for the time being.

But one thing you knew for sure; you had a clean slate. Just not in the way you would’ve expected.

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #155 & #156

Wed Jul 31 2019 [02:56 PM] Wack'd: Thus continues the reign of Len Wein [02:58 PM] Wack'd: You know, you really didn't need to specify South America and Africa! Most places have some sort of wilderness! Also the idea that there are wild places untouched by man that you can safely make out as savage is basically bullshit but if it needed to be that for the "harder to tell which ones are the animals" joke Antarctica is a safe bet. Or the ocean

[02:58 PM] Wack'd: Also jesus I know only one of them is black but calling them animals is still a real bad look [02:59 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, Reed stops Ben from doing something stupid so he just does his usual "twists up a piece of metal public property to prove a point" shtick and moves on [03:00 PM] Wack'd: And then the Silver Surfer attacks! [03:00 PM] Bocaj: Analogizing criminals to animals is some real bad tough on crime nonsense [03:01 PM] Wack'd: Yes [03:02 PM] Wack'd: Calling it: someone has kidnapped Alicia to blackmail Norrin into attacking

[03:04 PM] Bocaj: "How many times do we have to go through this, man?" "A LOT I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS BENJAMIN GRIM" [03:04 PM] Wack'd: So Norrin tries to fly through Galactus' barrier again and his power gets drained so he crash lands in Eastern Europe, where he sees a poster declaring the area's queen to be SHALLA BAL! [03:04 PM] Bocaj: Hm [03:04 PM] Bocaj: HMMM [03:04 PM] Bocaj: HMMMMMMMMMM [03:04 PM] Bocaj: I might remember something but then again I might not [03:05 PM] Bocaj: I can say for certain that Norrin Radd constantly has too many feelings [03:05 PM] Wack'd: So it turns out Norrin landed in Latveria [03:05 PM] Wack'd: And Shalla married Doom [03:06 PM] Wack'd: Doom wiped her memory of Norrin and agreed to undo all he had done and release her if Norrin--well, guess [03:06 PM] Bocaj: Ffs [03:06 PM] Bocaj: Doom needs to stop marrying amnesiac women [03:07 PM] Wack'd: It's his fetish [03:07 PM] Bocaj: Kinkshaming [03:08 PM] Wack'd: Not sure what I like more, Doom's expression, or the way Norrin appears to have been stickered onto the panel

[03:08 PM] Wack'd: A rare instance where the expressive mask actually works [03:10 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, it cliffhangers into Surfer resuming his attack, begging for forgiveness

Fri Aug 9 2019 [07:01 PM] Wack'd: DOOM: MASTER OF SUBTLETY

[07:02 PM] Umbramatic: Subtlety is for lesser beings than DOOM [07:03 PM] Bocaj: Where do villains get hero chessboards? [07:03 PM] Wack'd: Where do you think Alicia gets so much money sculpting tiny superhero statues? [07:03 PM] Bocaj: IT ALL MAKES SENSE! [07:04 PM] Wack'd: Anyway remember that time Doom stole Norrin's powers? Doom has quietly retconned his memories so that, instead of being tricked into hitting the anti-Surfer field around Earth like a bird on a windshield, he simply decided that having superpowers didn't suit him and gave them back [07:04 PM] maxwellelvis: You love that retcon, don't you? [07:04 PM] Bocaj: Wait so Doom retconning his own memories is actually a storied historied thing he do and not just a squirrel girl jape? [07:04 PM] maxwellelvis: The "Doom mentally rewrites all his defeats in his head" one? [07:05 PM] Wack'd:

[07:05 PM] Wack'd: He's not owned! He's not owned! [07:05 PM] Umbramatic: Reed's ass tho [07:06 PM] Bocaj: That's not America's ass [07:06 PM] Umbramatic: nope [07:06 PM] Wack'd: Alicia touches all the butts. For art [07:06 PM] Bocaj: I appreciate her sacrifice [07:07 PM] Wack'd: Anyway turns out Doom is watching footage of last issue and is pissed off that Norrin refused to kill [07:07 PM] Wack'd: "How dare you weigh the pains of hell against the wrath of Doom?" is his reaction [07:09 PM] Bocaj: Wow [07:09 PM] Bocaj: That’s a really god bad guy line [07:09 PM] Bocaj: Good [07:09 PM] Wack'd: So Norrin brings Reed, Johnny, Ben, and Medusa back to Doom, "hypnotized", as Doom gives him shit for not doing a murder [07:11 PM] Wack'd: Mostly he's just teed off because he has all of this godly power and refuses to use it, but Norrin argues that restraint is far more a show of power than Doom's definition--"an armored hand across a quivering lip" [07:12 PM] maxwellelvis: That's another really good line [07:13 PM] Wack'd: Anyway there's a real quick power-cosmic-vs-sorcery pissing match before the two agree they're evenly matched and Doom has Norrin put Reed, Johnny, Ben, and Medusa in fet--er, torture devices

[07:14 PM] Umbramatic: kinky [07:14 PM] Bocaj: Gonna kinkshame Doom [07:14 PM] maxwellelvis: 'Course, since this seems to still be pretty early in the issue and the Surfer created these devices, I assume he's got some backdoor or something up his non-existent sleeves. [07:15 PM] Wack'd: Doom built these, he's just complimenting Norrin on getting them in the restraints [07:15 PM] maxwellelvis: Ahh [07:15 PM] Wack'd: Norrin: “What have you done to Shalla-Bal, that she can watch such cruelty in abject silence? And worse: what has an uncaring world done to you that you could've conceived it?” [07:15 PM] Bocaj: “Devil took my mom” [07:15 PM] maxwellelvis: That's the Surfer we know and love. Ready to wax philosophical at the drop of a hat. [07:15 PM] maxwellelvis: "My dad was killed because he couldn't doctor good enough" [07:17 PM] Wack'd: So Ben has Johnny swing his birdcage over to him so he can rip it open [07:18 PM] Wack'd: You know, like when there's evil opposites--just gotta get everyone to swap dance partners. Or torture partners [07:18 PM] Wack'd: Johnny uses a...piece of wood that was lying around? To smash Reed's device open [07:19 PM] Wack'd: And then Reed saves Ben and Medusa [07:20 PM] Wack'd: Then they go fight some robots and speculate that, well, none of this is really Doom's best work [07:20 PM] Wack'd: Let's not forget he once managed to keep them captive for like six issues [07:20 PM] Wack'd: So he's probably phoning it in, which means worse stuff later [07:20 PM] Umbramatic: oh my [07:21 PM] Wack'd: hahahahahaha

[07:21 PM] Wack'd: "Oh yeah those were my bad old robots, thanks for taking care of that for me" [07:22 PM] Umbramatic: ah, doom [07:24 PM] Wack'd: So it turns out Doom is just buying time so he can use a new machine to siphon off Norrin's,power to create a *new* Surfer. A Herald of Doom, if you will, which Doom doesn't, but he should [07:25 PM] Bocaj: He does [07:25 PM] Bocaj: Later [07:25 PM] Bocaj: In the 2018 run

[theinvisiblespoon]

Front of a Building - Chapter 5: You Waited Smiling For This

First  Prev  Next 

Yeah, I know, I know, it’s been five-ever. And it’s 1:30am EST. But here’s the thing; I made an outline. That’s when you know you’re screwed. Have fun! :)  Chapter title is from the song “burned out” by dodie. It’s cool. She’s cool. 

Word count: 1938 

Trigger warnings: insanity, manipulation, alcohol mention, fear, anger, surgery and gunshot mention, gun mention, discussion of murder (wkm), brief allusion to violence. It’s gonna be bad in the next one, too.

Ego Manor had three floors. The top floor only held Dark and Wilford. The second floor held the kitchen, storage closets, bathrooms, and the rooms of Bing, the Jims, King of the Squirrels, Bim Trimmer, Dr. Iplier, Chef Iplier, and Silver Shepherd. The first floor held a living room, a library, a recording studio, a clinic, bathrooms and the rooms of Host, Google, Ed Edger, and Yandereplier. It was less of a “manor” and more of a “really big house”, but everyone, if not lived together, existed together.

Dr. Iplier was helping Wilford Warfstache up the stairs to his room after the incident that had just occurred in the kitchen. It left him with more questions than answers, but at least he knew not to ask Wilford about this “William” guy again. He couldn’t say that he didn’t want to try again, however. He needed to know what was happening. And if the cost was the rest of Wilford’s sanity…Dr. Iplier glanced at his charge, who was mumbling softly, barely conscious. The doctor shook his head; what was he thinking? He couldn't do that to another ego, much less one of the oldest. But there was the thing — according to the Host, Wilford and Dark weren't the oldest. According to the Host, it was the Jims, of all people. How much did the Host know? That weirdo seemed to understand more than he was letting on.

"No, hey there, we're going this way, Wilford," he urged, turning the ego away from the banister.

"…it's my fault…" he stumbled, but Dr. Iplier caught him before anything else could happen. "…didn't mean to, I swear…"

The doctor searched Wilford's eyes, but they remained as unfocused as ever. "It's…okay, Wilford. It's okay. Just come with me, alright?"

He said something indistinguishable, and Dr. Iplier took that as a confirmation. As they struggled down the hallway and into Wilford's room, the doctor couldn't help but peek at the door to Dark's room. Three weeks had passed since, for lack of better words, his surgery. Wilford lurched forward before the doctor could get a longer look.

"Alright, alright, come on, in bed, let's go…" The Host had really outdone himself; Warfstache was utterly out of it. With one last push, Wilford fell into his bed, dazed and confused. He muttered something again, but it was barely audible.

"What was that?" Dr. Iplier asked, leaning in.

"…don't leave me here. Don't…" Wilford's face scrunched up at some unseen torment.

"Wilford, it's fine. I'll stay if you need—"

"…please, you're all I have left. I'm sorry, don't leave me, don't…" Wilford finally trailed off, sound asleep.

The doctor straightened up, confusion evident. Who was Wilford talking to? Who was William? What the hell was going on?

He leaned back, rubbing his face and calming his breathing. He needed…he needed coffee, he thought. He needed a drink, he tried not to think. Intent on making his way to the kitchen, he stepped out of Wilford's room, but then stopped in the middle of the hallway. Slowly, he turned to the next door down. Did he dare check on Dark? Everyone avoided the top floor when possible, and no one ever went within five feet of Dark's bedroom.

There were three steps between him and the door. Reluctantly, but fueled by curiosity and obligation, he took one of them. What are you so afraid of? He took the second. It's just a door. Don't be so paranoid. He took the last and raised his hand, but before he could knock, he heard a sharp ringing noise coming from directly behind him. Whirling around, he locked eyes with Dark himself.

"D-dark! I didn't see—"

"Clearly."

"I was j-just, uh, bringing Wilford up, and—"

Dark rolled his eyes and pushed past the doctor, reaching for the handle.

"Wait!" Dr. Iplier caught Dark's arm, who stilled. Slowly, Dark turned to stare at the doctor. He said nothing, but the ringing grew and his eyes flashed dangerously. Dr. Iplier let go and took a reflexive step back.

"What?" Dark asked through gritted teeth.

Dr. Iplier paused. Get out, his mind screamed at him. He ignored it. "Dark, are you okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's been three weeks since anyone's seen you, and well, you were shot—"

Dark's aura cracked, and he muttered something under his breath as he turned the handle. "Leave me the hell alone," he warned over his shoulder, and then the door slammed shut in Dr. Iplier's face.

He let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, but he was still on edge. Before the door had shut, he had gotten a glimpse of the room beyond. It was completely torn apart; splintered wood from some type of furniture was scattered in a corner, the bed was overturned, the mirror was broken, and the lamp was laying on the ground. However, there was one thing left untouched. Not only was it intact, it was covered in dust — completely undisturbed. The doctor shut his eyes, trying to remember.

A pipe? No, something else. Long, with a handle…a silver handle. Not a pipe. A cane.

-oOo-

The Jims were an odd pair. They were always out and about, reporting on one thing or another. No one disturbed them — the Jims were best left to their own devices, doing…whatever they did. As a result of their constant absence, their room was more often than not empty. So, the next day, Dr. Iplier found it easy to slip into their shared bedroom when no one was looking.

The oldest egos, huh?

He had reasoned that there was no extracting any helpful or reliable information from the pair, but as they recorded nearly every event remotely interesting in their lives, their tapes might tell a different story. Looking at the boxes upon boxes of VHS tapes spilling out from the open closet, however, Dr. Iplier wished he could go back to his office and drop this entire thing. Groaning, he settled himself onto the floor and pulled a box towards him.

Title after title previewed nothing but useless footage. He pushed aside a saga of sand castle related film to find a tape labeled "JELLY BEANS?!" An entire box told the thrilling tale of buying furniture at IKEA, and another revealed the secret conspiracy of oceans. After an agonizing two hours later, he was still finding nothing. Each title was more stupid than the last: "WRAPPING PAPER FIASCO!", "BOOKS: THE MOVIE", "CRAYON CANON!!", "CORPSE ABDUCTION?", "BIRDS IN TREES!" — wait. Corpse abduction? Since when was there a death? Dr. Iplier picked up a stack of VHS tapes held together by string and reread the first one again. No, that definitely said "corpse abduction". He sat up straighter and turned the stack to see the rest of the titles. They read "SUSPECT WITH A SHOOTY?!", "DEMONS JIM, DEMONS!!" and "DUMMY JIM REENACTS GRISLY SCENE!" This had to be what he was looking for. Excitement flooded through him, and he eagerly undid the string, pulling out the first tape. He stood up (ow, that did not feel good), stepped over his haphazardly made piles, and slid the tape into the TV next to the closet.

The scene opened up on a shot of a manor. Words flashed across the screen: "Breaking News: Markiplier Manor."

Mark has never owned a manor.

Someone was shouting.

"Jim! Jim!" The camera panned to a shot of Jim, gesturing at his the cameraman — his brother. "Jim, come on! I've got the shot!"

When was this made? Even for a VHS, this thing was old. He glanced down at the other tapes in his hand, but the date was either not marked or faded completely. He frowned and went back to watching the TV. A detective had just come into view.

The Jims had been spotted. The detective was now yelling from out of frame. "Hey! Who the hell are you? You listen, this is a crime scene!"

Crime scene? Not only was there a manor that had never been known to exist, but a crime had been committed there?

The Jims were sneaking into the room. The reporter gestured at an outline of a body, and soon after he held up a gun.

"This is profound, in the least," He was saying.

You got that right.

The tape ended in static. The excitement of success was gone, and Dr. Iplier was once again left with more questions than answers.

In went the second tape; except for more of the detective being shown, nothing helpful. In went the third; nothing helpful was in this tape either. He had begun to give up hope when the fourth tape came into view. The Jims were making their way into a room full of evidence. Dr. Iplier fumbled for the remote but finally managed to hit the pause button.

"Don't trust the Seer," he read aloud. The Seer? Who is the Seer?

He continued the tape, starting and stopping to read parts of the scraps of paper littered across the walls and on the desk.

"…safari hunt gone wrong…mayor in legal trouble…" There were (what he guessed to be) names beneath pictures of people, but he couldn't read them. "Fallen movie star…police remain clueless following celebrity death…celebrity actor in cahoots with beloved mayor…" So the movie star — the celebrity — died, and this guy was involved with a corrupt mayor? "…the colonel did it. The colonel did it, the colonel did it, the colonel…"

He should feel excited for knowing more now, shouldn't he? Why, then, did it feel like being in the eye of a storm?

He let his mind wander over the evidence he just been given, the tape falling into static. Dr. Iplier was lost in thought when he heard the pounding of footsteps in the hall.

"We got it, Jim! We got the shot! Jim is going to be so—" Jim skidded to a halt, his brother nearly running straight into him camera-first. "What are you doing here?"

The doctor was about to retort back when he realized this wasn't his own room. "Uh," is what he settled on instead.

"Hey! Those are our tapes!"

"Oh, I was just—" he clumsily hid the ones he was holding behind his back, but he was saved the trouble of finishing his statement by the cameraman gesturing at the other Jim. He was hovering over a half-empty box Dr. Iplier had stopped looking through. Reporter Jim peered over his brother's shoulder. "Jim, look at that!"

The camera was already pointing at the box, so the Jim holding said camera compensated by zooming in further.

"Have you ever seen those tapes before, Jim?" Jim held up his mic to the box as if expecting it to answer.

"Tapes? What tapes?" Dr. Iplier stood and gazed into the box, too. Four tapes stood out from the rest, the black cover contrasting against its white title. The doctor reached in and picked them up. "Who Killed Markiplier?" he spoke aloud. He hadn't seen these before. Why didn't he see these before?

"Hey!" Jim protested. "Those are ours!"

"You just said you had never seen—"

CRASH!

All three of them froze, staring at each other in the tense silence. The silence broke, and Reporter Jim was the first out of the room, followed by his brother with Dr. Iplier close at his heels. They burst into the kitchen together, looking wildly around for the source of the noise. Their eyes locked onto the Host.

He was on the floor, clutching his throat, with Google towering above him.

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[orbemnews]

Tasmanian Tigers Are Extinct. Why Do People Keep Seeing Them? The Tasmanian tiger is still extinct. Reports of its enduring survival are greatly exaggerated. Known officially to science as a thylacine, the large marsupial predators, which looked more like wild dogs than tigers and ranged across Tasmania and the Australia mainland, were declared extinct in 1936. But on Feb. 23, Neil Waters, president of the Thylacine Awareness Group of Australia, promised conclusive photographic proof of a surviving thylacine. The four photos, he claimed, showed a family of thylacines, including a juvenile, moving through dense brush. The announcement kicked off a flurry of excitement among wildlife aficionados. But, analysis by thylacine specialists rapidly debunked the photos as a case of mistaken identity. The event is the latest in a tradition of extravagant claims about photographic or video evidence of lost or unknown species that don’t pan out. Why do these cycles occur so regularly, at times even convincing experts? The answer, psychologists say, may lie in quirks of the human mind and how we process information that is at once familiar and difficult to perceive. While such footage occasionally turns out to be a hoax, many stills and videos genuinely show real animals — even if they aren’t what people say they are. In 2005, a WWF camera-trap caught footage of a “mystery carnivore” — likely a flying squirrel — in the jungle of Indonesian Borneo. In 2007, 2011 and 2014, clips of hairless dogs and raccoons in Texas were described as chupacabras. The same year, a kayaker recorded footage that purported to show an extinct ivory-billed woodpecker in an Arkansas swamp, provoking heated coverage and broad scientific interest. Many experts eventually concluded that the bird was more likely a pileated woodpecker. It’s not impossible for species presumed extinct to reappear. Last month, news of the rediscovery of the Black-Browed Babbler, missing since the 1840s, emerged after two Indonesian men caught and photographed a specimen. A day later, an entomologist, announced the discovery of a tiny population — just six specimens — of the Australian cloaked bee, last seen in 1923. That’s part of why the prospect of thylacine footage was so compelling to hopeful researchers. Unlike Bigfoot or Nessie, such animals were unquestionably real, were well photographed while alive and went extinct almost within living memory. Catching a photo of one doesn’t necessarily seem like a stretch. And in the age of smartphones, cameras are everywhere. In fact, footage snapped by camera traps or amateur naturalists can help establish the presence and activity patterns of animals in the environment, said Holly English, a doctoral student in wildlife ecology and behavior at University College Dublin. “There are animals that visit my own garden that I only know about through camera trapping,” Ms. English said. Photos can also help reveal animals living in unexpected places. Her research on breeding populations of exotic wallabies in Britain, for instance, relied partially on images shared over social media. Susan Wardle, a neuroscientists at the National Institutes of Health in the United States, says that cycles of expectant belief undone by deeper analysis may in part be explained by human psychological quirks. Processing every individual sensory detail is impossible, she says, so our brain actively reconstructs our visual world based on the complex but ambiguous input received by our eyes. Research has shown that unclear sensory data — such as a blurry picture — causes the brain to rely more heavily on preconceived patterns to make sense of it. “This means that there is an interesting interaction between perception and cognition — our beliefs and prior experience can influence what we see. Or more accurately, what we think we see,” Dr. Wardle said. This tendency can lead people astray when studying photographic evidence of long unseen animals, sometimes called cryptids, especially if they already have an idea of what they’re looking for. Many people who go looking for such enigmatic creatures have an emotional investment in identifying them, “and are already convinced the creatures are already out there,” said Christopher French, who founded the Anomalistic Psychology Research Unit at Goldsmiths, University of London, and recently retired. That pre-existing belief makes it easier to begin seeing quarry in every shadow and rustle of brush, Dr. French adds, or in photographs that don’t offer a clear look at the animal in question. It can also cause people to genuinely miss details that might contradict their preferred hypothesis. In a YouTube video posted on February 23, Mr. Waters, formerly a professional horticulturist, claimed that he’d captured footage that proved the thylacine lived. Walking past a landscape of felled trees, he described setting camera traps in the Tasmanian bush, and catching four “not ambiguous” still images of a thylacine family. Thylacine populations began declining soon after European settlers arrived on Tasmania, an island south of the Australian mainland, in 1803, winnowed by government-encouraged hunting, competition from wild dogs, habitat loss and disease. The last known individual, “Benjamin,” died in captivity in 1936, leaving behind only haunting bits of film footage. There were reported sightings in the decades that followed, which lured multiple expeditions in Tasmania’s wilderness to search for survivors, said Darren Naish, a paleozoologist at the University of Southampton in England. None were successful. Yet reported sightings continued and even increased in the 1980s, and are still reported today. “That suggested that sightings were a social phenomenon, not a zoological one,” Dr. Naish said. Mr. Waters sent his photographs to the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery for analysis by Nick Mooney, a thylacine expert. He and his colleagues debunked Mr. Waters’ claims. “TMAG regularly receives requests for verification from members of the public who hope that the thylacine is still with us,” the museum said in a statement. “Based on the physical characteristics shown in the photos provided by Mr. Waters, the animals are very unlikely to be thylacines.” Instead it said they are most likely Tasmanian pademelons, a stout little marsupial resembling a wallaby. Many thylacine sightings are similar misidentifications, said Adam Pask, a thylacine researcher at the University of Melbourne. “There are quite a few wild dogs roaming around Tasmania,” Dr. Pask said. “So it’s very easy to spot a ‘thylacine’ looking animal in the bush if you look hard enough, and want to see one enough.” These kinds of mistakes are common, Dr. Naish said, in part because even experienced outdoors people and researchers aren’t always adept at identifying animals from unfamiliar angles or in unfamiliar states. Size and distance can be hard to judge in photographs, causing domestic cats to resemble big cats. Subtract fur, as in the occasional rotting raccoon carcass or mangy fox, and even familiar mammals can look deeply uncanny — or like an extinct marsupial predator. “We all make mistakes: even the most experienced naturalists make misidentifications, sometimes hilarious ones,” Dr. Naish said. However, those dedicated to hunting cryptic animals are often primed to accept more ambiguous footage, while dismissing critical opinions from qualified experts. “The single most pervasive cognitive bias we all suffer from is confirmation bias,” Dr. French said. If you’re invested in finding the cryptid you’re searching for, you’re more likely to find the evidence convincing. On March 1, Mr. Waters — who did not return multiple requests for comment — released the photos as part of a 19 minute video, urging viewers to “make up their own mind.” In a subsequent interview with News.com.au, he said that the response to his photos by expert analysts gave him “more fire in my belly to prove them wrong.” “It won’t be much longer,” Waters said. “Because we’re very close to getting irrefutable proof the animal is still here.” Source link Orbem News #extinct #People #Tasmanian #Tigers

[sussex-nature-lover]

Wednesday 18th November 2020

Wakey Wakey

I saw this photo on Twitter yesterday. Not sure what time it was taken but it’s entitled ‘Morning Winter Sky over Tunbridge Wells’ - pretty impressive no?

Not quite as impressive colour wise but very bright indeed, here’s this morning’s dazzler when I opened our curtains. It was quite different from Ms NW tE’s early morning view today...

Photo Credit: our London Correspondent Ms Nature Watch The Elder

Thinking of water, I’m just watching Billy Bailey on The One Show (BBC1) and it’s an absolutely charming film shot on The River Thames. He’s paddle boarding, after showing footage of people who’re getting stow away seals climbing up on their paddle boards for a lift.  It was a highlight of our London weekend last year when we saw a seal on the Thames - ours was much further in to the city. For more feel good, does anyone watch Great Canal Journeys on Channel 4 (UK) Initially featuring Timothy West and his wife, Prunella Scales, the latest series is now captained by Sheila Hancock and her friend Gyles Brandreth. I have to say, I’m left stunned by how fit and able Sheila is at 87. She’s a splendid recruit to canal navigation as well.

In my mind I’d absolutely love canal boating. Hmm, not totally sure about the hard work and the narrow bed aspect, let alone the err ‘facilities’ but it’s a bit of a pipe dream. Canals seem so romantic somehow, well, restored ones do. They ‘cut’ (colloquial term) through both cities and rural areas in the most practical manner and often the most industrial areas sit cheek by jowl with nature. There’s peace and quiet but also camaraderie, at least in my mind there is.

In reality I’m much better suited to being an armchair observer. Let’s say no more about my ridiculous delusions.

The Canal River Trust

No water birds here at all, but lots of activity in and over the woods where the Crows (no relation) have been extremely busy this past few mornings. Still not sure what they’re up to. I zoomed in close on one - I watched it for ages and was struck how the few remaining leaves glistened like gold coins in the sunshine.

Carrion Crow:

Behaviour: generally quite solitary. This is the corvid you are most likely to see visiting your garden.

There were plenty of Rooks active as well

Behaviour: a very sociable species so you’re unlikely to see a rook on its own. Rooks build their nests right at the tops of trees, in noisy groups known as rookeries. You are unlikely to miss them!

No noise from lately, not like earlier in the year when they’re constantly squawking ‘Rate My Baby?’  

* ask for details

BIRD WATCH:

Other than the above, the garden’s finally going quiet. The Squirrels and Rabbits seem to be keeping themselves to themselves close to the wood and the visitors to the feeders are the old faithfuls - numerous Blue, Great, Coal and Marsh Tits with the fly by feed from Scout and the Long Tailed Tits. Robin, Nuthatch and Great Spotted Woodpeckers are pretty constant all through the day. Stock Dove, Wood Pigeon and Blackbirds come, but not so much and the solitary Magpie is very shy and not here that often. The Pheasants and Goldfinch haven’t been here and they’re missed.

Poppy for Remembrance 

(not my photo)

♦ bold type navigates to an outside link not affiliated to this blog

[shirlleycoyle]

The YouTubers Keeping Pets Entertained During the Pandemic

Since the pandemic started, I've been using YouTube far more than I used to. Workout routines, sewing tutorials, mindless feel-good clips of babies hugging animals: YouTube has all of these in abundance. But all of these pale in comparison to the type of video I put on most frequently. In our house, kitty TV reigns supreme.

YouTube is filled with content aimed at dogs, cats, and their owners. The varieties are endless. Birds alight at a feeder, a GoPro hidden nearby to record their comings and goings. An invisible hand drags a string toy back and forth. Fish in a koi pond bobble to the surface of a pond. A camera moves smoothly through a park, capturing trees and squirrels. These videos are long, often over four hours, and the most popular ones have millions of views. I put on at least one video per day, which amounts to, at minimum, 28 hours of pet TV per week. Most YouTubers would kill for those numbers.

It wasn't always like this. But one of our cats, Graymalkin, got much more attached and energetic when I started staying home all the time. He used to sleep during the day, while I was at grad school. Then, in the mornings and evenings, he'd sit on my lap and purr as I worked. In the spring, he lost his tiny mind. He spent all day zooming around the apartment, mrrrring and chirping for attention. He begged for treats. He planted himself on my keyboard. He constantly fought my partner for control of his gaming chair.

Greymalkin the Cat, watching someone attempting to play Control / photo by author

One afternoon in July, I searched "cat tv" on the advice of a friend. Maybe some videos of birds or squirrels would take Gray's mind off the gamer chair. And it worked, at least for a little bit: Graymalkin hopped up on the TV stand and parked himself as close to the TV as he could. In his glassy, green eyes were reflections of hummingbirds. When he was most engaged, he reached up to bat at the screen with his weird little cat-hands.

After about five minutes, he curled up in my lap, bored. But I wasn’t bored. After the video ended, I put on another. And another. There were so many videos for cats and dogs. I sat on the couch, watching Graymalkin watch TV.

For both of us, it was a portal into the strange, sometimes eerie world of The Algorithm. In one video, an enormous cockroach skittered across the screen, freaking us out. In another, an otherwise tranquil recording of a bird fountain, a Minion toy loomed ominously above the birds. Every few minutes, the footage would jump cut to a slightly different angle, making it look like the Minion teleported a few inches to the left or right. Eventually, I selected so many videos from Japanese creators that YouTube, confused, started serving me ads in Japanese. While I tried to follow the plotlines of commercials in a language I don't speak, Graymalkin swished his tail, impatient for images that triggered his hunting instinct.

A still frame from a video by TV BINI

No video captivated his attention for more than a few minutes, but for those minutes, he was rapt. Sometimes I caught him staring at the screen even if it was switched off, as if he was trying to suss out the TV’s inner workings.

Eventually I noticed the viewer counts on the cat videos: hundreds of thousands, sometimes even millions, of views. Many of the videos came from the same channels, and these top channels were monetizing their content by running ads. How much money, I wondered, were these creators making from pet TV? Had they stumbled upon success by accident, or had they worked hard to win the chaotic gamble of making money through YouTube? And were animals really watching these videos for hours at a time?

Identifying the inner workings of the pet TV biz became an obsession. I wanted to know more about the people who had figured out this YouTube niche, harnessing the power of SEO plus the fretting of helicopter pet parents for ad revenue. So I reached out to two YouTube creators: entrepreneur Amman Ahmed, the founder of Music for Pets (which includes the YouTube channels RelaxMyDog and RelaxMyCat), and Bini, who runs TV BINI.

RelaxMyDog and RelaxMyCat both post new videos almost every day. No two are the same, but many follow a similar formula. The first element is either still photos or slow footage of expansive natural landscapes, sometimes with wild animals in the background. The second element is slow, soothing piano or strings, the kind of music you’d hear at an upscale spa. The audio loops infinitely and the video plays on and on, sometimes for up to fifteen hours.

Ahmed really is a savvy businessman who saw an opportunity, then threw everything he had at dominating it. Though RelaxMyDog now has 587,000 subscribers and RelaxMyCat has 472,000, they started out much smaller. “I self-funded it, had no investors. I 100% owned the company. It's luckily, over the years, got bigger and bigger,” Ahmed said, video-chatting me from his temporary home in Kiev. Music for Pets is headquartered in Manchester, in the UK, but Ahmed travels frequently for work. He spent the beginning of 2020 in Brooklyn, but then saw the COVID-19 writing on the wall and left the country. Fortunately, Ahmed told me, many of Music For Pets’ fifteen employees – including filmmakers in Indonesia, South Africa, and Romania – work remotely. Music For Pets is a complex operation, with lots of cogs and levers. Luckily, Ahmed can make sure all those cogs are turning properly from anywhere in the world.

In 2012, Music for Pets was just Ahmed and his new business partner, a music producer from El Salvador named Ricardo Henriquez. Ahmed had wanted to start a business centered around relaxing music for people, and in searching a freelancing website for music producers, stumbled across Henriquez. Henriquez's dog suffered from anxiety, and so Henriquez and Ahmed wondered if calming music would work just as well on dogs as it did on people.

A still from from a Relax My Dog video

Eight years later, Music For Pets makes much more than just music. There's a subscription service, which allows users to play ad-free videos for $4.99 a month. They even have a mobile app, called Games for Cats, that lets cats bat at fish and bugs on a smartphone screen. “In 2019, l think twenty million cats and dogs around the world consumed content on RelaxMyDog and RelaxMyCat,” said Ahmed. Music For Pets’ viewership numbers have hit an all-time high in 2020, and Ahmed thinks that worldwide COVID-19 quarantines are at least partially responsible. Pet owners who have started working from home are disrupting their animals’ routines, potentially causing anxiety. “Cats are looking at their owners like, ‘Why are you still here?’” he said. Another possible explanation for Music For Pets’ popularity is that people find the videos soothing. “Our content is now becoming more designed for humans and pets to watch together,” Ahmed told me. Music For Pets ran a survey that asked viewers if, during quarantine, they were watching RelaxMyDog alongside their pets. 87% of respondents said yes.

It’s easy for me to see – and sense – the human appeal. Focusing on a sunlit beach and mellow music is exactly what my meditation app asks me to do. I seem to get more out of these videos than Graymalkin, who wanders away after he realizes he can’t actually commit any bird murders. And I am not the only one who feels this way, according to Ahmed. “We see a lot of comments where people are like, ‘Look, I don't have a dog. I enjoy watching this while I'm high,” he said. But motivations notwithstanding, enough viewers have clicked on RelaxMyDog and RelaxMyCat videos to generate a business that Ahmed says is valued at seven to eight million dollars.

Bini runs a very different kind of operation, one that doesn’t generate the same kind of profit. While Ahmed said he regularly talks to journalists, Bini – who declined to give her real name – rarely does. When I reached out to her to ask for a phone interview, she said she would prefer to talk over email. "I'm an extremely private person," she wrote. Her reclusiveness contrasts with the popularity of her channel, TV BINI, which has 105,000 subscribers. Some of her 156 videos are filmed, while others are animated, but she makes and edits them all. "TV BINI is a one-woman production," she wrote.

Graymalkin, the author's cat, considers the fish in a video for which he is ostensibly (but doubtfully) the target demographic. / photo by author

Bini, who lives in California, started TV BINI in 2014. However, she's only recently gotten a high enough subscriber count to feel like her efforts are paying off financially. "It wasn't money that kept me going, that's for sure," she told me. What’s kept her going is the thought that she’s helping both cats and cat owners. Many viewers have posted clips of their pets reacting to her content. “The cat reaction videos and positive comments by pet owners motivate me to continue making videos,” she said.

Bini told me that videos of prey, or objects that move like prey (such as string dragged across the screen), help cats exercise their basic predatory instincts. And though she creates content with cats in mind, other species react, too. Bini sent me a list of videos depicting other animals, like a peacock, a praying mantis, a dog, and a lizard, interacting with her videos.

But how should we interpret animals’ reactions to pet TV? According to Dr. Kersti Seksel, a veterinary behavioral expert who practices in Sydney, Australia, it’s hard to know. “There’s very little research on [pet TV],” she said. Some studies have indicated that certain genres of music may decrease stress responses in dogs, such as a 2012 study in the Journal of Veterinary Behavior that linked classical music with more sleeping and less shaking or barking in shelter dogs. In addition, Ahmed pointed me towards a 2017 study in the journal Physiology and Behavior which suggests that soft rock and reggae music relax kenneled dogs.

However, Seksel says that the way cats and dogs perceive video is starkly different than the way we perceive it. Both species have a far sharper sense of smell than we do, which means that they rely on olfaction – a sense that video doesn’t cater to at all. They also hear a far broader range of frequencies than humans: dogs can hear up to 45,000 Hz (hertz), while cats hear up to 64,000 Hz. (We only hear up to 23,000 Hz.) Furthermore, the placement of both cats’ and dogs’ eyes means that their field of vision is much wider than a human’s, allowing them to sense more peripheral motion. “[Cats and dogs] live in their world. They hear ultrasound and infrasound sounds that you and I can't even detect,” said Seksel. “Maybe the birds outside are making noises that we can't hear, but the animal can hear.”

As a result, Seksel told me, it’s hard for us to know if the basic concepts conveyed by videos come across the same way to our pets as they do to us. While a video with fluttering feathers and a high-pitched song may convince us that it’s depicting a bird, cats and dogs may only perceive some of the signals they associate with birds. That’s what might have happened with my cat, Graymalkin. A video could suggest the presence of a bird, so he checks it out. But when he inspects the TV, he doesn’t smell a bird, or hear the ultrasonic frequencies a real bird would make. In the end, he might be wandering away because he’s bored.

Seksel said that pet TV likely caters more to our understanding of entertainment than to a cat or dog’s. “I think our expectations of what the animals will do are wrong,” she explained. “It’s based on, ‘Well, I can sit and watch a TV show, I can watch a movie.’ But even with humans, if the movie doesn't have something that changes every five to seven minutes, you lose interest. Same with video games.”

Ultimately, the audience that pet TV caters to isn’t pets. It’s us, the pet owners. As in the children’s publishing industry, the supposed target audience isn’t the one making choices. Little kids don’t have the purchasing power to buy books, so publishers market to their parents. Similarly, cats and dogs don’t have the opposable thumbs necessary to put on games or videos. Their owners are the ones who scroll through YouTube results and pick the option that seems best. In this context, the “best” video might appeal to a cat or dog, but it might also be “the video that appeals most to people.”

However, Seksel said that just because there isn’t research to support pet TV, that doesn’t mean it’s completely ineffective. “We need to think about animals as individuals,” she said. “Just because my dog doesn’t react to TV doesn’t mean that someone else’s dog wouldn’t react to it.” Seksel stressed that dogs and cats, like humans, respond to stimuli based on their preferences. Those preferences don’t have to conform to logic, or to scientific consensus. “You might like playing golf, I might not like playing golf. That doesn’t mean golf is good or bad,” Seksel added.

In a follow-up email, Ahmed agreed with Seksel’s analysis. Because there isn’t much research on how cats and dogs react to TV, “we took the approach to pump out loads of experimental content because we have a huge audience,” he said. That way, Music For Pets could engage with as many animals’ preferences as possible.

Bini hopes the popularity of pet TV will spark more research into animals’ responses. “It would be exciting to learn the differences between human and animal motivations and perceptions,” she said. Ultimately, she believes that any entertainment that makes sedentary indoor animals move around is a good thing.

Speaking with Seksel made me realize that, for me, pet TV is a small way of asserting control. It makes me feel like I’m taking steps to improve the life of a living creature. Existing in a pandemic, especially a pandemic that so many people in my country seem hellbent on minimizing, makes control over anything seem like a pipe dream. I’ve lost the power to make life much better for myself, or for people that I care about. But my cat? I can fill his days with endless clips of birds. Maybe that means something to him. Even if it doesn’t, it is still soothing for my world to contract, to become as compact and frictionless as a cat watching a TV screen, birds of prey reflected in his lambent eyes.

The YouTubers Keeping Pets Entertained During the Pandemic syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[skymoonandstardust]

Secret Abilities

an: Here you go anon-- I hope you enjoy :)

“Hey Doctor Banner”

The white lab coated figure of the scientist straightened from the beakers he’d been hunched over in examination as the door closed behind Peter.

“Hi Peter.” Bruce shot him a smile “How was school today?”

“Fine.” The teenager said shrugging as he made his way over to a counter filled with whirring machines--- all calculating, analyzing, recoding--- and who knew what else. Peter continued to answer as he slowly walked along, studying each one “It was pretty boring to be honest.”  Bruce chuckled as he bent over the beakers again “I know the feeling. Just wait a few more years till college---that’ll be a lot more fun, I promise.”

“I hope so.” Peter laughed.

Opening his mouth to ask something else Peter was turning to face Banner but paused when he noticed The row of computers showing security camera footage. Curious, he froze and watched for a minute till someone in particular, a familiar figure, caught his eye and made him speak up. “Isn’t that Mr. Stark’s daughter.”

Interested now Bruce stepped away from his experiment and walked over to stand by Peter. After a glance at the screen Peter indicated the scientist nodded “Yeah.”

Peter had never met you, but being the Daughter of the famous Tony Stark He’d heard a lot about you and seen you on the news. Not to mention the many photos of you both online and in magazines, like the kind his Aunt May got. Naturally you didn’t go to the same school as him and despite his frequent visits to avenger’s compound ever since he found out about it (and he came nearly everyday) He’d never seen you there or run into you.

Peter was disappointed about that. He’d had a fascination with Ironman, which naturally extended to the superhero’s daughter and so Peter had developed a kind of celebrity crush on you—something that would be incredible if it ever happened but was unlikely ever to be considering the chances of meeting the celebrity were near 0, and they had been until recently.

Once he’d found out about the avengers compound his hopes of meeting you rose, and that chance was partly what made him rush to the building as soon as school was out. It seemed like Peter’s luck was going to change

“What’s she doing here?” Bruce wondered aloud breaking Peter out of his train of thought

“What? Is she not supposed to be here?”

“No, She’s usually in school now.”

From there they both watched in silence as you made your way around outside of the building. They tracked your progress as you reached the back and took a little dirt road---- right to the moment you disappeared from the camera’s field of view.

Only then did Peter speak “What’s back there?”

“Nothing, just a storage shed and some woods. Tony never thought to put any cameras back there--- it didn’t seem important to guard since there wasn’t anything there.”

“Then why is she going back there?”

It was a second before Bruce responded “I don’t know. . . but it’s probably nothing.”

“Yeah.” Peter agreed--- although he didn’t really believe that and based on the quick backward glance Dr. Banner sent at the computer screen he didn’t either.   

  From then on Peter paid more attention to the video footage every time he visited Dr. Banner’s lab---- and he discovered that you came there just as often as he did. Once he pointed it out to Banner and mentioned that you always went in the same direction—out of the camera’s view and toward the woods, almost never into the building itself  they both agreed that something had to be done to find out where you were going and what you were doing. 

Neither of them dared to tell your dad just yet though so they came up with a solution.

  It was Bruce who brought up the subject of more cameras to Tony.

“You want more security cameras?” Tony deadpanned “I’ve got every inch of that compound under surveillance.”

“Not towards the back-- there’s that whole section of woods we can’t see. Anybody could stroll in from that direction and we wouldn’t know till they were knocking on our front door.”

“Ok, I’ll think about it.” Tony answered, patting Bruce on the shoulder before he walked off.

  Tony took his sweet time thinking about it and when four weeks had gone by and nothing happened the two figured the answer was no and decided to take matters into their own hands.

That weekend Peter was at the compound even earlier than usual, and after a quick stop at the lab he got into position, placing himself in the dense foliage of the trees by the side of the road.

After that it was a long hour of waiting, his only visitor’s birds and the occasional startled squirrel.

Finally, the com he’d picked up from Bruce crackled to life and Banner said “She’s on her way.”

“Is she at the side of the building yet?”

Almost—ok, now she’s at the back and headed your way.”

“Got it.”

Peter kept his eyes fixed on the road so it was a surprise when he saw the figure pass by below him. Not hesitating a second he set out a web and was on the move after her, swinging and jumping from tree to tree—careful to stay back but keep her in sight.

He was on edge and all his senses were on high alert by the time she stopped in the middle of a clearing and  sat down.  Peter, perched in a tree and watching closely was prepared for a lot of things, but not for the pack of five wolves that appeared out of the brush two minutes later.

His blood ran cold and he was bout to swing to your rescue when in his fear induced haze he noticed you were completely calm, still in the middle of the open space. Peter relaxed a bit when he saw that and hesitated, to see what would happen.

What happened was the wolves slowly coming closer and closer until they stopped a foot away from you, forming a small ring around your figure.

Suddenly one padded forward, breaking away from the others.

Peter tensed again till he saw you hold your hand out and the wolf lick it like it was as tame as a puppy. A minute later and all the wolves were huddled around you, licking you, circling and yapping at you in a tone that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other then happy and playful.

The weirdest part was that you seemed  to understand the yapping.

From his position in the tree Peter could just hear you as the wolf you were petting let out a yip and you said “Really? again? What he do this time?” He almost laughed as both you and the wolf sent a dirty look at one of the other grey forms --- and did It actually look guilty? No--- it had to be his imagination.

Everything stopped when the lead wolf suddenly tensed and let out a warning bark then a long low growl.

You weren’t fased though.

“Yeah, I know about him. The birds were screeching about a stranger as soon as I got here. You don’t have to worry, I’ll deal with him-- he’s not going to hurt you or your pack anyway, right.” The last word was shouted as you turned to look directly at Peter “You may as well come out, I know you’ve been there the whole time.”

Figuring there wasn’t any use in hiding, Peter dropped out of his tree. 

As soon as he appeared all the wolves were on their feet, growling at him with teeth bared as they formed a line between him and you. Before they did anything, you spoke up—clearly talking to the wolves when you said “It’s ok. He’s not going to hurt me. You can leave—but if it makes you feel any better you can stay close in case I need you.” 

Slowly and reluctantly the wolves left, each of them stopping and looking back at least twice as they left.

Once they were gone you turned to him “Peter huh, you must be that new recruit my dad told me about.”

“How do you---.”

“Animals have very good ears and are very chatty, especially birds.”

“And you can talk to them—understand them?”

“Yeah, and before you ask I’ve been able to do this forever.”

“Does your dad know know?” Peter asked surprised

   “Oh he knows alight” You chuckled “My dad got me this puppy and I used to make it bring me things all the time when I was too lazy to go get them myself. Dad was suspicious but about that but just figured it was a really smart dog until I accidentally made these birds dive bomb him  one time when I was mad.”

“And no one else knows about this?” he questioned

“No. I’ve learned to control it, to hide it and dad wanted it a secret—for my own good, so no one but us three knows now.”

“Not even the other avengers?”

“No, and I’d appreciate it of you didn’t say anything. Dad’s waiting for the right moment to tell them—and the world, when I become an avenger too.”

“No—of course. I won’t tell anyone.” Peter assured you

There was a moment of quit before he spoke up again “Can I ask you something--- why do you come here?”

“Cause it’s the one place that no one will think twice if I go, so. It’s safe and I can be myself—plus I love listening to all the animals, hearing their stories and playing with them.”

“That does sound pretty cool.” Peter agreed

“Thanks.” You said smiling “Anyway I should get back. Walk with me?”

“Definitely.”

“So tell me about those wolves—how did you find them?” Peter asked falling into step beside you.   

As you told him the story, eyes bright and face shining he had to hold back the goofy smile threatening to escape--- and as corny and cliché as it sounded Peter couldn’t help thinking that this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

The forevers: @a-sea-of-fandoms​ @casownsmyass @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious​ @scarlettsoldier​ @thatbasicnerd4life @docharleythegeekqueen

Marvel girls:

@a-girl-who-loves-disney

@kenziecole-green

Spiderman:

@lets-imagine-fanfics

@tomxhotland

[bigyack-com]

Does Your Pet Really Need Cat TV or a Dog Playlist?

This is a story about Opie and Karma.Most days the two cats cuddle on a bed upstairs in the Saratoga Springs, N.Y., home of Aray Till, a freelance creative director. One recent afternoon, though, they were startled by the sound of chirping birds in the living room downstairs.They bounded down the staircase and were transfixed by two blue jays they saw sparring over seeds on the television screen. Opie swatted at the glass, while Karma sat upright, a vigilant sentry.Ms. Till had recently discovered “cat TV” on Amazon Prime, a library of streaming videos and movies that feature birds, squirrels and other creatures, and were made to entertain felines.Opie and Karma aren’t the only ones amused. “My in-laws were here recently and we put on cat TV,” Ms. Till recalled in an interview. “There were five adults, one child and two cats watching. It was a nice meditative break from the daily news.”Pet owners have long turned to classical music and cable’s Animal Planet to distract overactive canines and bored kittens. But with the proliferation of streaming services, entertaining furry companions has gone high tech.Last month, Spotify announced new playlists for cats, dogs and their musically inclined owners. Audible, the streaming book service, has collaborated with Cesar Millan, the television personality better known as the “dog whisperer,” to recommend books for pups.And Amazon Prime’s offerings, with their squabbling squirrels and chattering raccoons, have found prominence on social media, where owners post videos of their cats riveted by the onscreen action.“I’ve never seen her much interested in a bird,” Sam Jacobs said of her 10-year-old cat, Billie. But after Ms. Jacobs heard about cat TV on Instagram, she turned it on and Billie “sat perfectly still, watching, which she never does.”If cats are finally catching on, hounds were ahead of the pack. In 2012, the first television channel for dogs debuted. DogTV, which also offers a streaming service, was devised to soothe separation anxiety and stimulate canines who were left alone. A year later, a study in the journal Animal Cognition showed that dogs could pick out the faces of other dogs on a computer screen.Around the same time, the industry for pet products was exploding. Last year, for example, Americans bought $72 billion in food, supplies and toys for their pets. It’s no surprise that streaming services also want to cater to this lucrative market.Spotify surveyed 5,000 pet owners from Britain, Australia, Spain, Italy and the United States before releasing its pet-centric playlists. More than seven in 10 pet owners surveyed said they had played music for their furry friends. Almost half of the owners believed music help relieve their animal’s stress.Audible’s recommendations for dogs debuted in 2017, and feature Mr. Millan. The recommendations, though, are hardly scientific. According to Audible’s website, they are based on an anecdotal study of 100 volunteers who were given Amazon Echo devices and asked to record their dogs’ responses to hearing books on the device. (Audible is owned by Amazon.)Among Mr. Millan’s recommendations is Harper Lee’s “To Kill a Mockingbird,” read by the actress Sissy Spacek. He warned that dogs need to be in a post-exercise, relaxed state to respond to audiobooks, adding that voice and consistency are important, along with sounding like the pet’s owner.“Audible is not going to get your dog tired,” Mr. Millan said. “They have to exercise. If you put on television when your dog is nervous, it is going to remain nervous.”Indeed, watching birds or squirrels onscreen is no substitute for the outdoors. “At least if they are outside and see a squirrel, they can smell or dig,” Mr. Millan said. “And dogs want to be with their own kind. They would never go to Best Buy and get a television.”Dr. Nolan Zeide, a veterinarian in Stamford, Conn., said that sound waves and frequencies do affect animals, but that being with their owners is what they want most.“I know there are people who believe Animal Planet makes their cat or dog feel better,” Dr. Zeide said. “But the animal only wants one thing, the human. They are thinking, ‘Where is Bob?’”Grace Bonney stumbled across cat TV on Amazon Prime a few weeks ago when she was looking for something to watch while her dog recuperated from knee surgery. To be clear, Ms. Bonney wanted a show for herself, not her dog. She is an author and bird watcher. And she was curious about what shows Amazon offered cats.“They are hilarious because there is so much drama, like anything you’ve seen on Bravo,” she said. Birds squabble and slap each other with their wings. Raccoons wander under cover of night. In one show, a hawk terrorizes burrowing rodents.Ms. Bonney, who is known as @designsponge on Instagram, decided to share her discovery with her followers. “I got 400 direct messages from people totally thrilled to find this out,” she said.Friends complained to her because Amazon Prime did not offer certain videos in Canada. “Now, I’m versed in how to find bird videos on YouTube,” Ms. Bonney said. “One woman placed a chair in front of the TV to make her cat comfortable.”Ms. Bonney’s cat, Turk, and dog, Winky, were unfazed by cat TV. “I was watching a movie about grizzly bears and they responded to that,” she said. “And foxes.”Mostly, though, Ms. Bonney said the videos were a welcome distraction from, well, you know what. “When you are watching birds and chipmunks fight over a corncob, it makes you stop thinking about impeachment,” she said of the Senate trial of President Trump. “It slows down whatever is happening. The footage is so relaxing, almost melodic.”Ms. Jacobs, a seasonal candy buyer, said Billie, her black short-haired cat, mostly sleeps and ignores her family. “She just sticks to herself,” she said. Not anymore. Recently, Billie jumped on an ottoman and, for 10 minutes, stared down a bird on cat TV. “It was unusual,” Ms. Jacobs said.Not to Dr. Zeide. “The cat is looking at the bird feeder and you know what it is thinking,” he said. “It wants to eat that bird. It’s not relaxing for them at all.” Read the full article

[strangesmallbard]

parks and rec sq au!!

1. 

emma has based an alarming number of Big Life Decisions on impulse and another thing called well, what the hell? but this is pushing it. especially coming from her roommate, who double ordered their welcome mat five years ago. just in case. for what, mary margaret? in case, emma. so i can’t regift it? no.

“emma. come one! just yesterday you were complaining about your bounty hunter career’s lack of stability.” 

“bailsbondsperson.” emma takes a long swig of yesterday’s orange juice, which is warm. “and it was a figure of speech! sort of. i get work. just last week i collared a guy. the one who wore that top hat.”

she gives emma her most placating, earnest smile. the one that makes neighbors and birds alike swarm them in central park. “but do you enjoy it?”

“hey, i got to keep the top hat! pawn shop took it for thirty bucks. i bought an extra-large pepperoni. you had four slices. traitor.”

mary margaret hands her a brochure filled with smiling families, promises of the best burgers on the east coast, and scenic views. “this town has something for both of us and i don’t want to move to a new state without my best friend at my side. and besides, its perfect! city hall is looking for…”

2.

and that’s how emma moves to storybrooke, maine, and becomes the official city hall day-time security guard.

“fuck,” emma says at the large metal door. it’s the only part of the whole building made this decade, and so it’s the only part with a key code. which keeps angrily beeping at her. 

she balances her coffee in the crook of her arm, and rustles around her phone notes for the lock combination. 1983. which she tried four times. she tries it a fifth and it not only beeps at her, it also says CALL SECURITY.

“that’s me, you shit burger piece of–”

“it’s six fifty-eight. it doesn’t work before seven am.”

she whips around so fast her coffee sloshes out of the lid. it’s the lady from the parks department. the one with the nice pantsuit who yelled at jones at emma’s first staff meeting yesterday. today she’s wearing another nice pantsuit. and she’s also holding coffee. and her eyes are kind of startling in the morning. in a good way. and she’s tapping her foot with her arms crossed. wait.  “that’s ridiculous. how does the night time guard get in?”

parks department–mills! rolls her eyes. “he has a different code. i don’t know where you come from, ms. swan, but we take safety very seriously here.”

“okay, that’s–this is a town with less than five thousand people. i saw a moose this morning. the entire fourth floor of this building is abandoned, and probably haunted. why the fanfare? did nicholas cage hide another national fucking treasure in the basement next to the records of the best berry jam winners in the last century?”

regina narrows her eyes and lets out the longest, most murderous breath. “it’s seven now. will you please–oh, never mind. the imbeciles nolan hires.” mills nudges past her and puts the code in so fast that emma only processes it once mills fixes her with one last glare. “have a wonderful day, ms. swan.”

she closes the door. it locks behind her. nice.

3.

here’s how it goes:

there’s a great big pit of dirt in the center of town and no one will explain the intricately engraved sign spelling out storybrooke commons. even ruby from granny’s, who practically runs the town’s social media. because she hacked every single social media account.

the mayor is evil. kind of like miranda priestly, but like, actually evil. 

emma buys regina a let’s start over coffee with three sugars (she asked ruby) and bearclaw (can’t go wrong with a bearclaw!) and her eyes kind of shined and she said thank you, genuinely. she also said i hate bearclaws. 

town hall meetings can and will run for three hours straight through lunch and no one will judge you too hard for whipping out a gogurt at hour two.

(except regina. and everyone. then regina will start bringing you “real yogurt” which is yoplait, but whatever, and then you’ll bring her a box of gogurts in retaliation, and that’s a whole thing.)

hot chocolate with cinnamon from granny’s who has okay burgers. (don’t tell granny.) 

regina’s son is filming a documentary for an art project, so there’s a lot of footage of emma tripping at that one tricky spot on the third floor.

smalltown squirrels will outsmart you, and it’s. fine to let that go.

4.

(”i mean, i don’t mind the squirrels. per-say. they’re fine. they’re doing fine. they’re doing what they’re meant to be doing. but do they have to climb into the air vents? do they have to drop acorns into the gutter pipes? do they–”

“emma, i was asking you about town infrastructure. what do you know about budgeting?”

“still just the security guard, kid. i know less than the squirrels.”

“but you could–”

“i am not letting you break into your grandmother’s office.”

“worth another try!”)

5.

three days before halloween, regina pages (actually pages) her to the park’s department, which is covered inspirational poster to inspirational poster with toilet paper. and silly string that spells PAN.

“pan,” regina says, hands on her hips and teeth gritted. “every goddamn year!”

“uh,” emma says, and puts her hands on her hips too. “so, who’s pan?”

“in class yesterday he said that ophelia got what she deserved at the end of hamlet,” ava, one of the interns, says, shaking her head. grace, another intern, pats her clenched fist on the table.

“alright, yowch, i hope your teacher took off points,” emma says in her direction, “but is anyone gonna answer my question?”

regina gives a frustrated noise and puts a hand on her forehead. she narrows her eyes in emma’s direction. “i will destroy him if it’s the last thing i’ll do.”

ava nods emphatically. grace gives a very concerned frown.

“he’s the grandson of rupert gold, the town mega capitalist,” zelena says, eyes rolling on the vowel. she leans back in her chair. “so he can antagonize everyone with absolutely zero legal consequence. and he’s my dear little sister’s arch nemesis.”

“he is not.”

emma can’t suppress a grin. “a fourteen year old is your arch nemesis?”

regina throws her arms up, abruptly goes to her office, and slams the door shut.

more silly string falls from the ceiling.

6.

“leroy, for the last time, we will try to find your pickaxe.”

“that’s what you said last year, mills! i’m not buying a new pickaxe when there’s a perfectly good one still out there! waiting!”

regina pinches the bridge of her nose. “this meeting is adjourned. please place all suggestions and further questions in the box currently being held by…” regina looks at emma with an odd sort of stare. “officer swan, apparently. enjoy the rest of your days, and don’t forget to donate to the fund for the storybrooke commons.”

there’s a single, solitary clap. from marian, in the first row. regina manages a smile in her direction. she gives regina a thumbs up and mouths something that could be have a shift, call you later. once the citizens start begrudgingly filing out, regina turns back to emma. “where’s ava?”

emma shrugs. “she said she had an emergency.”

regina sighs. “she’s reading on the fourth floor again.”

“damn. that’s a good idea.”

regina glares. 

“i mean, you know, it’s haunted, so there are better places. hey, do you want to get lunch?”

regina tilts her head. “lunch?” 

emma shrugs and it’s weird still holding the box. regina stands up and stretches, grabs her folders and straightens them out on the government-issued plastic table. “you know. lunch. that thing with the food and the talking. or not talking if that’s more your thing.”

regina rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “talking’s fine if it’s not about squirrels.”

“they’re a menace, regina. a danger.”

regina steps towards her and grabs the box. she’s suddenly standing close. “i know a place along the highway. don’t tell granny.”

7.

(“storybrooke commons is how marian and i met. her now very ex-boyfriend fell into the pit and i told her we’d build a park.”

“how long ago was that?”

“ten years.”

“oh damn.”

“yes. damn is right. according to my mother, it’s just never in the budgets.”

“you know, henry was asking about that.”

“henry?”

“hey! emma! i told you that was top secret!”

“henry, what did i say about video-taping without permission?”

“it’s a documentary, mom! i need candids!”)

8.

marian is regina’s best friend. and she’s a nurse. and she’s terrifying. and she’s the nicest person emma’s ever met.

and now she’s in emma’s living room. talking to her roommate. emma blinks away the dream, but it’s definitely not a dream.

“morning, emma!” mary margaret says, clasping her hands together. “marian here, your friend–i am so glad you’re making friends!–says you two are going to campaign today? for regina?” 

emma stretches her arm behind her back. “what now?”

marian, still in her scrubs and holding one of mary margaret’s prized humming bird themed tea cups, raises a brow at her. “do you want hook to win a seat on the city council?”

emma wakes the fuck up. “hell no.”

they go around house to house and it’s grueling because it’s humid as hell and the people of storybrooke fucking suck. emma leans against the bug and wills all the sweat on her back to evaporate. “do they really hate regina that much because of cora? didn’t they elect her mayor?”

marian heaves a box of campaign materials into the car and steps back, arms crossed. “not exactly. back in the day there was a neighboring town called applewood. it was full of vacationing republican senators and their shitty kids. cora was the reigning mayor. long story short it went broke, and it was regina’s idea to do a merger. which saved both towns, but you know. because of the Rich and Famous, cora won the election again. so everyone actually hates her for that. stupid.”

emma blinks. “this small-town dish keeps getting deeper.”

“what?”

“do you think i’d get arrested for tee-peeing cora’s office?”

marian barks out a laugh. “only if you promise not to arrest me either, officer swan.”

9.

(”do you like my mom?”

“what? i mean, yeah of course. but, what does that–”

“do you think she’s a good public city official, i mean. do you think she’s a good candidate for the city council?”

“kid, you’re the one who read the entire storybrooke-applewood constitution.”

“she’s my mom. i’m biased.”

“i mean, so am i.”

“what?”

“what?”

“i mean, you know. we hang out. i think she’s cool in like, a person way.”

“i know. you were at my house yesterday. you ate all my lucky charms.”

“oh sh–shoot. shoot.”)

10.

ten days after regina wins the election–by a margin because storybrooke is full of assholes–she invites emma to storybrooke commons.

“the pit?”

“just come, swan,” regina says, oddly soft. “henry’s at a friend’s house tonight.”

emma drives up to the pit. the dirt is all orange because of the waning sun and bright pink spilling over the tops of houses. regina stands in the middle next to one of those fold-out camp couches with the cup holders. she started an actual campfire too, and hands emma a marshmallow stick when she makes it over.

emma un-buries her hands from her pockets. “metal. fancy.”

“no one’s eating bark on my watch.”

emma watches the fire catch her. she’s wearing a track suit and a visor and her hair is in a ponytail. “what’s up? bureaucracy got you down?”

regina takes a breath. “what if i ran for mayor this year?”

emma spits out her proverbial drink, which really means she accidentally shakes one of her marshmallows into the fire. “you…”

regina hands her a hershey bar and two graham crackers. “gold approached me today. he said he’d run my campaign.”

emma manages to salvage one measly marshmallow. “okay, but isn’t gold the shadiest man alive?”

“dead too,” regina deadpans. “and i’d sooner let zelena run my campaign, but i have been thinking about it for a very long time.” meticulously, she slides her marshmallows between her graham crackers and hershey’s bar. she sits down and looks up at the sky. “running against my mother would be…”

“yeah, but you could do it.” emma shrugs, and sits down next to her. she balances her mess of a smores on her cupholder.  “you’ve proven over and over again how dedicated you are to this town.”

regina rubs the back of her neck and looks over at her, really looks. her eyes so startling in the sunset, and still in a good way. the best way. now emma notices the crinkles by her eyes too. “you have too, you know.”

emma snorts. “one squirrel at a time?”

regina doesn’t laugh. she keeps looking. she visibly swallows. emma leans in closer and regina tilts her head and says, “are you…going to eat your smores?”

emma’s head is swirling. she’s about to do another Big Thing on impulse. “can i kiss you?”

regina nods and suddenly her fingertips are on her cheeks, soft as anything, and her lips are warm in the cooling night, and emma runs her hand through regina’s hair, holds the back of her neck, and maybe this town isn’t going to be one of hundreds, maybe this isn’t another in-between-home, and the park is only a pit but not forever, some day there’s going to be greenery and fountains you can wish on and shit, and fuck the squirrels but she’s staying, maybe. maybe. yes.

11.

(”so, sheriff swan, how does it feel to be married to the mayor?”

“kid, you were our ring-bearer.”

“yeah, but i’m biased.”

“when does this video project end again?”

“that’s classified, ma.”)

[bastionkeeper]

I love you Sophomore Jack au. Especially the really sad one and the really happy ones. So here some prompts that will possible do both. 30, 40, 41, and 44.

I specialize in really sad and really happy ;) thanks for checking out the au!

30. “Can I sit here? The other tables are full.”

Jack looked up at the stranger, and nodded silently. She smiled at him and took a seat across from him. 

“It’s my first day here, I’m a little nervous,” the girl said. 

“It is daunting at first, but there are good people here,” Jack said, sipping at his tea. 

“Like you I suppose,” the girl chuckled a husky smoker’s laugh. “My name’s Izumi.”

“They call me Jack here.”

“I know, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Izumi sighed. “To be honest Jack...I’m not here just because the other tables are full...I wanted your help with something.”

Jack tilted his head to the side, confused. Izumi looked down at her tray and then when she lifted her head again there were tears in her eyes.

“I know you’re familiar with Aku Himura,” she said tearfully. “He’s the one who had you sent here...and me.”

“What?” Jack asked.

“I also angered him, and he framed me like he framed you,” Izumi wiped at her eyes. “But I have proof that it wasn’t me! He didn’t wipe the security camera footage!”

“I’d never considered the cameras...” Jack said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Neither did Aku,” Izumi reached across the table and placed her hands over one of Jack’s. “But I can’t get to the footage alone, I know the codes to the alarm but jumping the fence and avoiding security would be too hard on my own.”

“You need not say more, I will help you,” Jack replied, determination in his voice.

“Oh thank you so much!” Izumi practically climbed over the table to give Jack a quick kiss. “This means so much to me, thank you! I will meet you at the school at ten tonight.”

Izumi then left, leaving a very red-faced and shocked Jack.

That night Jack met Izumi at the school as planned. He gave her a boost to the top of the fence, and she pulled him up. Then they ran quickly to the door where Izumi turned off the alarm.

Jack followed her through the halls of his old school until they reached the main office.

“To think, with this evidence we can clear our names and return to our proper school,” Jack said in an excited whisper. “I will be forever in your debt.”

“I’m sure you can find someway to make it up to me,” Izumi winked and blew Jack a kiss, causing him to blush.

They got into the office, and Jack watched the door while Izumi went through the tapes. Jack turned back to the screens for a moment to see how it was going and saw a familiar face on the monitors.

It was footage of Aku putting the fundraiser lockbox in his locker.

“You have found it!” Jack beamed. “Now we only need find your tape and...”

Jack gasped as Izumi ejected the tape and broke it over he knee.”What are you doing?”

“I know right? Who uses tapes anymore? I thought everything was digital now,” Izumi gave a sinister laugh.

“You’ve destroyed it!” Jack grabbed at the pieces on the ground as if he could piece them back together.

“Man, all I had to do was cry a little and give you a kiss and you were mine,” Izumi bent down and put two fingers under Jack;s chin, raising his head so he would look at her. “My brother was right, maybe he was too dumb to remember the cameras but at least he’s smarter than you.”

Jack felt his blood run cold. She meant Aku...and if Aku was her brother...

“Ikra Himura,” Jack said, realizing the trick.

“Sorry, Sakai,” Ikra shrugged with a grin. “Gotta protect the good family name. I’m sure you understand. Thanks for the help, couldn’t have done it without you.”

40. “Have I ever lied to you?

“Yes,” the girl said, raising an eyebrow at Thief. 

“No for real!  he’s an honest to god asshole sometimes! He’s not always all “hoh, honor and respect! Watcha!” I swear!” 

Thief saw Scottie passing by and grabbed him, pulling him towards the three girls he was talking to. “Tell ‘em Scott, tell them about how Jack is pure evil!”“Jack couldn’t hurt a fly!” the girl said. 

Scottie burst out laughing, and slapped Thief over the back. “Hurt a fly? No. Hurt a man? Yes. The laddie may be a bit of a softie but he’s also a cold-blooded demon. And he cheats! He always cheats!”

“Jack has too much honor to cheat!” one of the girls insisted.

“He twists the rules to fit his cheating!” Scottie growled, red-faced.

 “It’s true, sensei is seriously twisted,” Samurai appeared, leaning back against the lockers.

 The three girls looked out the window to where Jack was sitting with his back against a tree, feeding squirrels pieces of his sandwich. “There’s no way.” One of them said.

 “He once left a wallet out in the hallway, knowing that I would take it,” Thief said. “and when I opened it, boom! Full of red dye. I was trying to wash that stuff off for weeks! I’d had a date!”

“He was trying to teach you about how stealing is wrong, clearly,” one of the girls said.

“Oh! Well what about the time he poked my bagpies full a’holes?” Scottie said.

“A public service,” one of the girls winced. “We’ve all heard you play. Besides, Jack’s clearly very noise sensitive.”

“One time, I was real excited to get the new playstation, right,” Samurai said. “There was this one on ebay real cheap, real cheap, and just a few minute left to bid. I was gonna bid but then sensei told me how a real warrior is not concerned with material goods. I took a few minutes to think on that and when I came back he’d outbid me!”

“I’m sure he didn’t do it on purpose, and he lets you play it doesn’t he?” one of the girls said.“Well yeah but that’s not the point…” Samurai drooped, folding his arms over his chest.

“The boy’s full Slytherin, I’m telling you,” Thief said

.“Good morning, ladies,” Jack suddenly appeared at the group, smiling sweetly at the girls.

“Hello Jack,” the girls chorused, each one sighing happily up at the handsome teenager. 

“These three are not bothering you are they?” Jack asked, his voice full of concern. “They are quite unruly. Come, allow me to escort you to class.”“Oh, thank you,” the girls squealed, one of them even took Jack’s arm. As Jack walked away with the girls in two he looked back at his friends and smirked, casually flipping them the bird.

“No one will ever believe us,” Thief groaned.

41. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

That was the question Jack repeated to himself over and over again as he sat in the dark next to his bed rocking back and forth. He had one hand clamped over his mouth in case it would betray him and let out a noise to wake Scottie. The other was raking long red lines down his arm. The pressure and pain reminded him of what was real and what was not.

The phantoms danced about in his vision, screaming at him that he was guilty, a murderer, unworthy to live.

Have I lost my mind have I lost my mind have I lost my mind? 

44. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“I really do not know,” Jack said, wiping the tear from his cheek. He’d just been woken up by his roommate, and was now sitting up in bed looking at the tear with a perplexed face.

“Musta been some bad dream,” Scottie said.

Jack tried to remember what the dream had been. All that was left in his mind was a vague vision of his parents...and fire...and being given away by his mother...

“I cannot fully recall,” Jack said. “I think perhaps...there was a demon and it was the past and the future?”

“Pity, I was dreaming about free food and babes!” Scottie laughed. “Ah, guess we can’t all have good dreams.”

Jack looked up at the ancient katana that hung above his bed and nodded. “Yes, I suppose not.”