#wildlife rescue is a time let me tell you

[mostlyinthemorning]

Okay tumblr, do you want to hear the story of the time I had a live badger under the front seat of my car?

A few of you have heard this story before, but I feel like you might be okay hearing it again.

So.

Mumblety years ago, my first real job after university was working at a wildlife rescue centre. Basically, people would find injured and orphaned wild animals and they’d call us up and we’d nurse them back to health or raise them until they were grown enough to go back to the wild. Most of the time the patients were birds (robins, so many robins) and small mammals, like squirrels, but occasionally we got a more unusual animal.

One day, this baby badger comes in, he's really small, probably about 6 weeks old. 

Super cute, kind of like this:

x

At six weeks old he’s still nursing so we bottle fed him for a few weeks and then eventually, when he started eating solid food like mice, we put him out into an outdoor enclosure. By the end of the summer, he's catching and eating his own food and he's growls super ferociously whenever anyone comes up to the cage.

Ah-ha, we think, we have rehabbed him successfully. He's ready to be released!

The wildlife center isn’t really located in badger habitat, but I was planning to travel to visit my parents, about four hours south, and they lived in the country and had lots of gophers for him to eat. Thus, a plan was born. I would visit my parents, I would take the badger with me, he would be happily released into the wild, and my friend and I would go camping, just to round out the weekend. 

So, my friend (who also works at the wildlife centre) and I happily load our things and our badger into the back of my very small Toyota Tercel. (You see where this is going, I hope.)

My car was like this, but blue.

X

You might notice that this is not a very large car. And you’d be right. 

Badger safely stowed in the back seat, we head south. I think it’s important to mention that the badger is in a plywood crate with a sliding wood door that goes up and down as this will be relevant later on.

Now, it’s a blazingly hot day, probably 35C/95F and my little car doesn't have air conditioning. It is hot. Even with the windows down. And the badger is annoyed. We can tell he’s annoyed by the loud and angry growls coming from the back seat. 

Our plan is to stop about 1.5 hours into the trip to visit a bank and a grocery store. The badger doesn’t care about this plan. He’s still very annoyed.

We pull up to the bank, parking in the shade so the badger won't be toasty in the sun, and we go inside. This is before the days of paying with everything with debit cards so we needed cash. We come back out pretty quickly and open the door of the car and immediately there's a problem. The badger is still growling, but now the growls are coming from under the front seat of my car.

We slam the door closed and try to decide what to do. Because we’re going camping, we aren't really prepared for anything other than opening up the door of the crate and watching the badger run away. We don't have any gloves, or a towel, or even so much as a business card saying that we are allowed to have a live badger in our car. As we're standing there, trying to figure out what to do about our predicament, people keep coming up to us to ask if we've locked our keys in the car. (If only!)

I crack open the door of the car a few times, and the badger growls at me every time. Clearly, he lives under the front seat of the car now. We have to do something. It’s still hot, and now we’re behind schedule and we still have 2.5 hours left to drive. 

A guy in a big oilfield truck pulls into the parking spot beside us. Figuring we don’t have a choice, we accost him as he gets out of his truck and ask if he has any gloves we can borrow. He admits that he does, but, of course, he wants to know why.

We explain.

He absolutely refuses to get involved but he agrees to lend us his gloves. Apparently he doesn’t have any reservations about watching two 20-something young women wrestle a live badger as long as he doesn’t have to do it himself. Gloves secured, we open the door of the car.

The growling gets louder.

It's still coming from under the seat.

Now, I don't know if you've ever tried to stick your hand under the front seat of a Toyota Tercel in order to retrieve a live badger. But there's not much room. 

The other thing you should probably know about badgers is that the scruff of their neck is extremely loose so that they can twist around if a predator grabs them. 

All of this is to say that wrestling a badger out from under the seat of your car is vaguely similar to trying to fish an angry, squirmy cat out from underneath your bed, if the cat had 2 inch claws and the ability to completely rotate in its own skin. In a public parking lot. While trying not to attract a crowd of onlookers. 

Finally, after much swearing, we manage to shove the badger out from under the seat, I grab it and slam it back into its crate. 

Whew, we think. At least we fixed that problem. But everything is okay now. Back to the plan!

It takes about five seconds for us to discover that the badger released himself by sticking his claws under the sliding door and lifting it up.

At this point, you probably won’t be surprised to learn that long with our lack of gloves, we also don't have any tools that we might use to fix the door of the crate. But somehow we manage to wedge the door of the crate shut. 

Whew, we think. At least we fixed that problem. But everything is okay now. Back to the plan!

You might be sensing a theme, and you’d be right. With the hindsight of some years since then, we probably should have turned around. Oh, to be 23 again.

It's still 35 degrees.

The badger is still angry.

We still have 2.5 hours worth of driving ahead of us.

We head out on the highway and the trip gains the soundtrack that I can still hear to this day.

Growl, growl, scratch, scratch.

Growl, growl, scratch, scratch.

Growl, growl, scratch, scratch.

We turn up the music. The badger growls louder.

I’m already doing ten over the speed limit. I drive a bit faster. Did I mention that the car doesn’t have air conditioning?

Growl, growl, scratch, scratch.

Thunk. Scratch, scratch. Thunk.

Our gerry-rigged closure on the crate has failed and the badger is sticking his claws beneath the door and lifting up the door. It’s only going to be seconds before a hot angry badger is loose in the car. We’re fifteen minutes from my parents’ house. 

I pull onto the shoulder of the highway and my friend scrambles into the backseat. Putting all of her weight on the sliding door, she holds it down as the badger scratches furiously. I pull back onto the highway, now I’m going twenty over the limit. 

Fifteen long, hot, and exhausting minutes later, we arrive at my parents’ house. I swear the badger's growls can be heard in Ottawa. Gasping a hello to my mom and dad, we lug the heavy crate with the heavy badger out into the field, wanting to release it as quickly as possible.

The growling gets louder. The crate might be the heaviest thing I’ve carried in my life. Staggering through the field, we finally decide we're far enough away from the house. We lift the door of the crate. The badger dashes for freedom—which is to say that it runs ten feet away and turns to look at us. 

Whew, we think. At least we made it here. But everything is okay now. We did it!

Heaving a sigh of relief, we gather up the crate and turn to go back the way we came. 

The badger follows us.

We walk faster.

The badger chases after us, practically at our heels.

We jump across the creek.

The badger launches itself into the water, swimming after us. 

We stop. The badger comes and sits at our feet like the world’s shortest, widest dog. We look at it. It stares back at us. Maybe the badger just needs a moment to consider its life of freedom. We wait. The badger wanders away. We pick up the crate for a second time and try to walk away. The badger is having none of it. It gallops after us. I pick up the wet badger and tuck it under my arm. This is the happiest it's been all day. Clearly, we are not releasing this badger into the wild.

Now, friends, we have a dilemma. We’re four hours from home, it’s getting late, and whatever we decide to from this point forward is going to involve a slightly damp, half-grown badger made of growls.

Our plan, if you can call it that at this point, was to release the badger and then go camping in a nearby national park. This now seems like a bad idea. But we're four hours from home and we have to do something. 

So. 

We decide to take the badger camping. In a moment of prudence, we forgo the national park and choose a nearby provincial park instead. 

We drive to the park. The badger rides on my friend’s lap. There’s no growling.

We set up our campsite. Thankfully, the campground is nearly empty. While we’re setting up the tent, the badger explores the campsite, amusing himself by digging a few holes and making sure to keep us in sight. It was like having a very short, very growly dog who likes to dig.

I’m sure it won’t surprise you in the least if I say that it’s at this point that we realize we’ve forgotten the matches for the stove. 

The nearest town is twenty minutes away. The badger will have to go back in the crate for the journey. The badger is not a fan of this idea. But we get him back into the crate—something that’s a lot easier now that we know he’s not trying to eat us—and we head for town, accompanied by the now-familiar symphony of growling. 

Now, it's been a bit of a day. So I think I should be forgiven for accidentally going over the speed limit on the way out of the campsite. This is, of course, when I get pulled over. Remember, we don't have a single piece of official wildlife-related ID between us, not even so much as a business card. This was before cell phones so we can’t even phone the wildlife center to vouch for us. We're both convinced that this is it, that we're probably going to jail for wildlife smuggling. And the badger is never getting out of that crate. In the backseat, the badger is growling louder than ever. 

The officer comes up to the car window.

The badger growls.

We hold our breath.

The badger growls even louder. 

The officer proceeds to absolutely ream me out for going twenty over the limit. The badger growls at every word. The officer doesn't even acknowledge the badger. I apologize profusely. I promise to never ever do it again. The officer gives me a warning. The badger growls. I drive away very, very slowly.

The next day we drive home and I can't even remember the details of the trip, I think I've blocked it out, but I’m pretty sure we let the badger had free-run of the car. When we got back to the wildlife center, we learned that badgers don't leave their moms until they're a bit older. We put him back in his cage, and about four months later, he digs his way out. And every now and then for about a year after that, people would come to the wildlife centre and say that an overly-friendly badger had come up to them on our nature trail. 

And this is why I always make sure to carry gloves in my car.

THE END

[e-dubbc11]

Good morning love! I am SO excited for this event and you're prolly gonna hate me, but I'm all in for the angst right now (damn hormones!) so let's go with song selection of Burning House by Cam, with the one and only Billy Russo.

PS: my son's birthday is Sept 29th too!! <3

Hello my love!! Thank you SO much for following me, reading my fics and being such a kind friend to me, I appreciate you! ♥️ And happy early birthday to your son as well! ♥️

So I listened to the song on repeat one morning while getting ready for work and I had to dry my eyes a few times trying to put my makeup on. You really did go for the angst for billy, didn’t you! I hope you like what I did here and did justice to your ask. I’ll link the song at the end. And you know I could never ever hate you 😘

I know the song is called Burning House but the ocean also inspired this one.

Drowning

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Angst, a lot of it, crying, death (in a way)

Word Count: 1.2K-ish

Summary: Your reoccurring dream haunts you every night. Maybe you said some things you shouldn’t have and wonder if you’ve made a mistake.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The world was silent except for the lapping of the miniature waves as they calmly knocked against your body. There was a sense of peace to it yet eerie and unknown. The lack of sound encompassed everything, there were no cries for help, no erratic splashing, and no signs of rescue or wreckage from a boat.

It was just you…all alone.

There weren’t any stars to decorate the night sky, just like on all the other nights you had this dream. It was just a blanket of navy, the sky blended seamlessly down into the ocean with a silvery claw of a moon directly above you.

It was the only light against the darkness which wasn’t much.

But there wasn’t anything for miles, in any direction. No land, no light, and not a soul in sight.

These dreams, or more accurately, nightmares, had no real beginning, all you could recall was that as soon as your eyes opened inside the dream, you couldn’t breathe, you were struggling underwater and had to quickly swim to the surface before you ran out of air.

Once you reached the surface, you inhaled sharply to catch your breath, and frantically looked around for something or someone to hold on to but there wasn’t anything or anyone. There was only a vast space with nothing on the horizon from what you could see of it.

The weight of your clothing made it difficult to keep your head above water as you did your best to rotate your legs like an eggbeater, pushing the water underneath your bottom so your head would remain on top of the water.

The lack of wind created more silence which you didn’t know was possible and that’s when the fear and panic set in. Which direction were you supposed to swim in? Toward land? You didn’t see any!

The water chilled you to the bone which made your muscles tight like thick rubber bands and afraid to use them in fear they may snap in half. And who knows what lurked beneath your feet? It could be wildlife or rip currents…you shuddered to think.

But you had to at least TRY to save yourself.

The highly flavored taste of salt was in the air, not just in the water as it splashed against your lips. Gliding on your side, you forcefully pushed the water away from you, propelling you forward and hoping you were headed in the right direction.

After swimming for awhile, you could hear a faint call for help ahead of you. Was there someone else that was stranded and trying to get to safety? Or was your hearing deceiving you?

The faded ethereal glow of the crescent moon gave you some light and in the distance you could see a figure waving his hands in the air, the white shirt he was wearing made it easier to see him.

The man looked familiar and as you swam closer, you realized why. The handsome face, short well-groomed beard, with eyes and hair that matched the late night sky…it was the man you once loved, and his name was Billy Russo.

Your on again, off again relationship with Billy had become too much for you to handle and it was you who ended it this time but you said some things to him that were out of line and that he didn’t deserve.

But you couldn’t take them back, those words were hurtful and no apology in the world could make you move on and forget about them as if nothing happened.

You did it for selfish reasons, to make yourself feel better, and convinced yourself that it was the best thing for you to do. But in the aftermath, you regretted it, wondered if there could have been a better way to handle it, and you had been lost ever since.

Lost in your dreams of a dark, wide open ocean with no direction of where to go or anyone to help you get home.

But there he was, calling out to you for help, and you thought you could make peace and apologize in your dreams by saving him. But while you were free to try and swim to shore, he was confined to stay there…forever.

His ankle was chained to a weight that went straight to the ocean floor and no matter how hard you tried, there was no way for you to get it off and free him.

“Save yourself, sweet girl.” Said Billy, calmly.

His words slipped into your heart like a piece of broken glass, the ache in your chest would be permanent, and you’d never forgive yourself for it if you left him to die alone.

Billy had been alone for his entire life. He didn’t have family or friends except for the Castle family. He would tell you all the time that he didn’t need relationships or want them. “They make you weak.” He would say.

He kept coming back to you, though.

But his constant mood swings and fits of jealousy kept giving you whiplash and you finally had enough.

“You don’t give anyone a reason to love you. You don’t love anyone except yourself and that’s why you’ll probably die alone. You have to deserve to be loved.” You had said.

You were angry and you didn’t mean it but you couldn’t take it back. His physical wounds from his childhood and from war had faded, still visible but faded.

Those awful words you had hissed cut him more deeply than any bullet ever could and they weren’t true. When bones are broken, they heal stronger than they were before but a broken heart never quite heals the same. The pieces never fit exactly as they had before.

Your dreams were a way you could be with him, make everything right, and to make sure he wouldn’t die alone. They were a way you could fix it all.

Telling him to save his strength was useless, he would use his energy to kiss you and tell you he loved you and you reciprocated, using all of your energy to do the same.

Both of you were incredibly stubborn.

“I won’t leave you, Billy.” You would tell him. “Ever again.”

You and Billy fought tirelessly to try and stay above water but eventually, your strength was going to give out, the muscles in your arms and legs burned like white hot fire and felt like they had been shredded to pieces rendering you unable to keep yourself up.

You couldn’t hold on any longer, but at least you were together when the ocean finally opened up and swallowed you whole.

That’s when you would wake up, still confused, still lost, and still not knowing what to do. It made you sob every single time.

These chilling dreams would continue night after night until you fixed what was broken. Was it possible to fix it? Or was it too late? Would he forgive you? COULD he forgive you?

There was only one way to find out.

I've been sleepwalking

Been wandering all night

Trying to take what’s lost and broken

And make it right

I've been sleepwalking

Too close to the fire

But it's the only place that I can hold you tight

In this burning house

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @fakehappy27 @snowkestrel @music-indie-tv @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @fictional-hooman @nutmeg17 @k-marzolf @vaguekayla @rosaleenablack @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @aoi-targaryen @rachlovesactors @qu1etwolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @mrsbillyrusso @colereads

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[sparrow-in-the-field]

The Story behind Bobby's Aves

For anyone reading The Cormant, in the last AN I mentioned I'd share the story of Jack, the real life double crested cormorant that inspired the one I'm writing as Bobby's Aves in the fic.

Now that I have officially moved back to the East Coast, I feel like I can share that for the past handful of years, I was living in St Louis. I'm actually going to include some real places from the STL area in the fic; it's kind of my love letter to the city because I love it and know I'm gonna miss living there.

One of the best parts of St Louis is that they have an amazing zoo that is free to the public (it's accredited and they do a lot of great conservation work; it's free due to city taxes, not sketchy reasons lol). Seriously, if you're ever in STL you have to go.

Anyway, the zoo has a flight cage that was initially built for the 1904 World's fair. That flight cage has been remodeled as the Cypress Swamp and now serves as a home to rescued native wild birds that cannot safely be released back into the wild. You can see photos and read more about it here.

Jack is one of those birds. He's a feisty double crested cormorant that is missing most of one of his wings.

I have two personal stories of encountering Jack that made me love him.

The Cypress Swamp has a boardwalk that you walk through with no barriers between the people and the habitat. For the most part the birds keep to the water and trees or areas that aren't directly in the path, but they can technically be on the path if they want to be. That is what happened the first time I met Jack.

My wife and I were on the boardwalk, probably admiring some of the ducks, and when I turned back to continue walking down the path, the cormorant was right in the middle of it.

I'd seen cormorants plenty of times in the wild, but I'd never been that close to one before. They're quite intimidating birds, but in a beautiful/breathtaking way! I was rather taken with him, and also quite amused that he refused to budge (it wasn't like he expected food or anything from us, he just wanted to Be There and wasn't gonna let anyone stop him). He stepped closer a couple times, and I'm always on the cautious side of being respectful of wildlife, so I was a bit frozen with what to do. I think we ended up just kind of waiting, and then another family walked by first, and we realized we could pass with bothering him or him bothering us. But I was just so taken with how defiant he was in his place.

The second time was when I learned his name. There was a keeper at one of the entrances/exits, and there was a hold up to leave the flight cage because of Jack. He was trying to sneak into the crowd to escape the flight cage, and the zookeeper was essentially having to corral him away from the door. She was using the opportunity to tell the stalled families about Jack and double crested cormorants.

My wife asked her "is your job in the flight cage to make sure Jack doesn't escape?" and she responded "technically no but it feels like about 80% of it." She also told us that they'd recently gotten a female cormorant resident and Jack was being a bad influence and teaching her how to try to escape as well lol.

So yeah, that's the story of Jack. The initial story of The Cormant was inspired by the song I linked in the first chapter of the fic, but as I started creating the actual character of Bobby's Aves, after meeting Jack twice, I knew I had to write him in it. He's just so bold and feisty and beautiful, it felt right for him to be a part of Bobby's soul.

[siderealscribblings]

"I see…and you're certain there are no survivors?" 

Furina paused outside Neuvillette's office, hand raised mid-knock as she heard a grave voice come from inside. 

"We aren't sure," the voice said softly. "The suspects seem to have perished in the explosion and the agents sent to apprehend them have not reported back in nearly two weeks. I sent another team to investigate but they were repelled by local wildlife before we could complete our mission...I fear we may have lost Miss Guillotin's squadron entirely." 

We lost a squadron? Furina stepped away from the door, quietly ducking into the library next to Neuvillette's office and locking the door behind her. When she took over Egeria's old quarters, the first order of business was to make sure each room had more than one way out. Call it paranoia, but Furina didn't like to have her back against the wall without a way out should her life be threatened. It was not, as Neuvillette insinuated, because of her obsession with crime novels; just because The Adventures of Detective Ladybug and the Black Cat had a secret door in every installment did not mean that Furina had redesigned her palace because of a light novel. 

(Though she did get a kick out of pressing the hidden switch to open the bookcase door that led to a passage connected to Neuvillette's office.)

"Shall we inform Lady Furina?" The other voice asked from the other side of the bookcase panel. 

"Not when we have missing agents and a murky picture of the true situation," Neuvillette said. "Lady Furina has plenty on her mind with the centennial approaching; I'd like to have more details before taking up the Archon's time." 

Oh you sneaky lizard! Furina thought, bottling up her indignation to release properly at a later time. How many times must I tell you not to keep things from me?! 

"I understand; I’ll let you inform Lady Furina at your discretion,” the other voice said. “For now, what shall my squad do?” 

“Maintain a perimeter around the Beryl Region and detain anyone who attempts to enter,” Neuvillette said. “I will investigate the area personally and rescue any Phantom agents that may have survived.” 

Furina managed to keep her fury contained until she heard the agent leave and close the door behind him. Summoning all her righteous indignation, she grabbed the handle of the secret door behind the bookcase and wrenched it open with all her strength. “Ah-ha!” 

Thunk! Furina’s dramatic reveal was thwarted as the sliding library door jammed on the tracks after only opening about a foot. 

Read More...

[sandcobangevent]

sherlock and co flashbang submission!!

‘Drop the case.

Or I will let the whole world know how hopelessly in love you are with your precious doctor.’

- Show Your Hand by @drinkingmelonwater !!!

“Sherlock, have you seen my socks?” John asked, emerging from his room. “My stripey yellow one’s missing its pair. Have you- oh my god what are you doing with my sock.”

Sherlock, who was in the process of dipping John’s sock into a beaker of acid, didn’t reply.

“Sherlock! What are you doing?! I wear that, you know?!” John yelled, attempting to rescue his sock to no avail.

“Apologies, but I’m afraid this is important,” Sherlock replied briskly.

“Important enough to destroy my stuff?” John snapped. “Couldn’t you have used your own?”

Sherlock hesitated. “If that’s what you want.”

John sighed, “Nevermind, you can have it. Keep the other one too, if you want. No use having one sock without the other.”

Sherlock brightened instantly, resuming his experiment with vigor, at the expense of John’s stripy yellow sock. John sat down on the sofa, now sock-less, and stared out the window at the rainy sky outside. It was a downcast sort of Tuesday, the kind that made you want to sleep in and enjoy a nice mug of hot chocolate. He would get no sort of rest, however, for he was interrupted by a case.

“Sherlock, John?” Mariana knocked and opened the door. “We have a client.”

“Excellent,” Sherlock replied. “Tell them to leave their damp shoes and belongings by the door.”

“How did you- nevermind, just get down here as soon as possible,” Mariana said before retreating.

“Another client already?” John exclaimed. “Excellent. Wait, let me get the microphone.”

“Grab a towel too,” Sherlock called. “The client will have absorbed a significant amount of rainwater, if how much rubbed off on Mrs. Hudson in their brief interaction is anything to go by.”

When John returned, towel in one hand and microphone in the other, Sherlock was waiting for him by the door. Together, they went downstairs to meet their new client.

“Boys,” Mariana said, “This is Flora Hawkins. She’s our new client.”

Sherlock was right. Flora was drenched in rainwater. She’d removed her boots and raincoat by the door, but water still dripped from her hair in rivulets, leaving damp spots on the floorboards.

John handed her the towel, “Hi, Flora. Why, exactly, are you covered in water?”

Flora didn’t dignify his question with a reply.

“What I want to know,” Sherlock said, “Is what exactly prompted someone to run from Camberwell to Central London in the middle of a rainstorm.”

“Jesus Christ, Camberwell? You walked that far?” John gasped.

“I like walking,” Flora said defensively. “It’s better for you.”

“What brings you here today, Flora Hawkins?” Sherlock asked.

“I’ve got a case for you,” she replied. “But, I suppose you already know that. Recently, I’ve gotten in a spot of trouble. In Surrey, there’s this lovely nature reserve. I’ve been several times, and it has this gorgeous lake and forest. But, about a month ago, some company or another bought up the land and started cutting it down to build a factory! Right on top of the wildlife living there, like it was no better than mud! So, I called up some old friends from Uni. We were part of this activist club, and all cared deeply about nature. So we went to the construction site to protest.

“Only, when we got there, the site was abandoned. Turns out the workers have Sundays off. We basically showed up to nothing. A few members started getting worked up, and before I knew it, a riot broke out. People were smashing construction equipment, yelling, screaming, causing a huge ruckus. Monkeywrenching is crazy illegal, and I saw cameras all over the place. So I smashed them. I work for a tech company, I know my way around cameras, and how to destroy the data they store. After that, we ran off. They still don’t know who did it, last time I checked.”

“Hey, um, you know I’m recording this, right? For the podcast. It’ll be on the internet and, well, you know,” John asked.

Flora sighed, “I know. I might have minded, if not for what happened next.”

“What happened next?” Sherlock leaned forward eagerly.

“Well, I started getting emails. I dunno from who, they were always just… strings of random letters. Attached were photos of…”

“Blackmail,” John breathed.

“Right. The sender threatened to release the photos to the police and the press if I didn’t cough up £100,000,” Flora said.

“And what did you do about them?” Sherlock asked.

“Well, nothing. I wasn’t like I could go to the police, they’d arrest me for vandalism. So I ignored them. The emails kept arriving, all from different addresses, once a week, and I did nothing. Until one day, I didn’t receive an email. I received a letter.”

From her pocket, Flora produced a letter. It had been sealed in a plastic bag to keep it dry, which was a good call. The outside of the bag shimmered with water droplets. Sherlock snatched the bag, ripped it open, and handed the letter to John.

“Watson, read the letter aloud for us,” he instructed.

John stared at the letter, neatly typed and printed. He read it aloud.

“Hawkins,

This is your final warning. Drop the money off at the Peckham Road petrol station on Saturday, 2pm. Fail to comply, and there will be consequences. I will be watching.”

“That’s why I came to you,” Flora explained. “I live with my mother, and I was worried. If I didn’t do something… who knows if the consequences might be more than jail?”

“Don’t worry,” John reassured, placing a hand on Flora’s shoulder. “We’ll find the culprit, right, Sherlock?”

“Hm,” Sherlock closed his eyes, deep in thought. “Watson, hand over the letter. Hawkins, may we see the emails sent to you?”

“Sure, I’ll pull them up now, and forward them to you later,” Flora replied, tapping at her phone. “Here.”

Sherlock took Flora’s phone and compared it to the letter. “South London Gallery postage stamp, bought at Camberwell, perpetrator likely lives in the area. Standard A4 paper, office quality. Typed, not handwritten; even the envelope. Could be a show of excess caution, but there could be a specific reason for the blackmailer to conceal their handwriting… Then, there’s the location.”

“What is it?” Mariana asked. “Did you notice something?”

“I believe so,” Sherlock said. “When did the letter arrive?”

“Yesterday.”

“Inconsistent with the emails,” Sherlock muttered thoughtfully. Then, he stood. “I believe I have solved part of the case.”

“Already?! Christ, Sherlock, what is it?” John exclaimed.

“The email blackmailer is not the letter blackmailer.”

“How’d you know that?” Flora asked.

“Simple, really,” Sherlock said. “There are many discrepancies between the emails and the letter. For one, the delivery date. The emails always arrived on Wednesday, at 11am on the dot. However, the letter arrived on Monday. The letter also requests a different drop off location for the money. It doesn’t add up.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean it’s a completely different person,” John argued.

“Perhaps not. However, it’s enough to raise suspicion. If there is someone already aware of the blackmail, then we may have our culprit,” Sherlock turned to Flora expectantly.

“…You think it’s Tom?” Flora asked.

“Wait, hold on. Who’s Tom?” John interrupted, confused.

“An ex-boyfriend,” Sherlock explained. “The breakup was recent too. It wouldn’t be difficult to reason that Hawkins here fought with ‘Tom’ over the blackmailing incident, and broke up with him when they refused to see eye-to-eye. It makes sense that he did it. Bitter over the breakup, he decided to get revenge. It would explain why the blackmailer knew your address, and why the letter was typed. He knew you would recognize his handwriting. I doubt he really expected you to pay up, but he offered an avenue just in case.”

“That piece of shit!” Flora cursed. “I knew he was shady, but to take advantage like that- I ought to give him a piece of my mind!” With that, she gathered her belongings and stormed away.

John coughed, disrupting the silence that ensued after Flora’s dramatic departure. “So… is that it? Because that’s barely enough for an episode. Heck, Sherlock, you hardly even had to leave your chair!”

“This is hardly the end, Watson. The email blackmailer is still very much at large,” Sherlock rose from his chair and turned for 221B. “Grab your raincoat. We’re going to Surrey.”

—

“Sherlock, did we really have to take a train to Surrey in the middle of a rainstorm? I mean, couldn’t we have waited a few hours for the weather to clear? Feels like it’d be a whole lot easier to investigate when you can see more than a dozen feet in front of you,” John winced as he trudged through the slurry of mud that was once a working path.

“Contrary to your belief, this was entirely necessary. The construction crew will have cleared out due to the rain. This is our chance to investigate uninterrupted,” Sherlock explained.

“The last time the construction crew left, all their cameras were smashed. There’s no way they’ll leave the place unattended,” John countered.

“They won’t. But they won’t have cameras either. After the cameras proved themselves faulty, the company would have found alternative methods of protection, such as a security guard. A security guard that we can fool.”

“Brilliant. So what’s the plan, walk up and tell the guard we’re investigating the vandalism?”

“Precisely, Watson. Precisely.”

-

“Hey! What are you two doing here?!” a voice cut through the rain and fog.

John whirled around to find himself face-to-face with what he supposed was meant to be a security guard. It wasn’t a very impressive security guard. He was gangly, his too-large uniform hanging off his shoulders and pooling at his boots. The acne and scraggly beard only made him look more like a teenager. The man- boy, really- had squared his shoulders to look bigger and more menacing, but with rain-drenched hair and clothes, he looked more like a wet cat. The only vaguely intimidating thing about him was the taser strapped to his belt, which he hovered his hand over in warning.

“Hey- look, we were just-“

“We are investigators, hired by the company to look into-“

“The lights? Finally! I’ve been trying to get someone to look into that for ages, but nobody seemed to believe me,” the guard interrupted.

“Sorry- what lights?” John asked. He exchanged a glance with Sherlock, who simply shrugged in response.

“You don’t know? Well, I’ve been stationed out here for a few weeks- ever since the cameras were smashed. The name’s Adam, by the way. I usually work night shifts, and this past week, I’ve been seeing lights in the distance. Brief, flashing lights. I’ve reported the incidents dozens of times, but it always gets waved off. Not anymore, though. They finally sent you two to investigate,” the guard was so eager, John almost felt bad for having to burst his bubble.

“Actually, we’re here for-“ John began.

“We’ll look into it,” Sherlock interrupted.

John blinked, “Sherlock, what are you doing?”

“Adam,” Sherlock said, ignoring John’s protests, “Where do you see these lights coming from?”

“Over there,” Adam replied, pointing at the tree line by the lake, which was barely visible through the rain. “The flashes appear at night, in the same general area.”

“Have you investigated them?” Sherlock asked.

“Ah,” Adam blushed. “I’ve been too nervous to go see for myself. I mean, what if it’s aliens?”

“I doubt it,” Sherlock said coldly. “Come, Watson. It’s time to investigate.”

“It’s just over there,” Adam pointed, stopping in his tracks. “I’ll leave you two to the investigation. If you need me, I’ll be over there, watching. From under the shade, far from the rain. Comfortably.” With that, he scampered off.

“Watson, pull up the photographs Hawkins sent to you,” Sherlock instructed, before crouching down by the treeline, prodding away damp leaves and shrubs with a stick.

John did as told. “So what, you think the lights are connected to our case?”

“I think they’re more connected than you can imagine,” Sherlock replied. “Look here. It’s rather faint, the rain’s washed most of it away, but those are definitely not natural marks.”

John peered at the mud. Sherlock was right, there were faint, odd-looking marks. There were a few that seemed to be bootprints, but also several wide, shallow divots, and most peculiarly of all, three deep indentations, no more than a centimeter in diameter, arranged in a triangular shape.

“What on Earth is this?” John gasped.

“These are clearly bootprints, so the shallow indents are likely caused by a person pressing their legs and torso against the ground. The three marks are likely caused by the legs on some sort of equipment- I’d wager it was a camera tripod. If the photographer was sitting on their knees, the camera would be at just the right level to- bingo.”

“Bingo what?” John asked. It was always fascinating to hear Sherlock’s deduction process live, right as it happened.

“Take a look at the photographs of Hawkins. They’re both taken from a low angle, almost exactly from this spot. This mystery photographer is the one who captured the photo of Hawkins.”

“Hold on,” John said, “If this photographer caught the photo of Hawkins, then why did they stick around afterwards? I mean, those flashes of light Adam saw, they were the camera flash, right? Why linger around?”

“That is a great question, Watson, and the one we must find the answer to.”

-

“Sherlock,” John called, “Sherlock, stop pacing. Adam’s not going to reply if you wear a hole in the rug.”

Sherlock stopped pacing to flop back onto the bed next to John. “I have theories, John, but no concrete answers. Who is the blackmailer, and how can we catch them?”

John leaned back, laying next to Sherlock. He stared up at the water stained ceiling of their rented room. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“What?”

“Would you like to share your theories?”

“…” Sherlock flicked his eyes towards John before fixing his gaze on the ceiling. “I contacted the Irregulars. Turns out, there’s no shortage of blackmail systems in England’s underbelly. Many have homeless networks of their own, watching for slip ups among Britain’s most influential. We have plenty of suspects to choose from.”

“Any idea who it might be?” John asked.

“Perhaps.” John waited, but Sherlock didn’t continue.

Laying there, next to his friend, listening to the rain outside begin to ebb, John felt strangely relaxed. He felt his eyelids begin to droop, and didn’t bother fighting the lull of sleep.

-

“Watson.”

“Watson.”

“John!”

John felt hands on his shoulder, shaking him awake. He grumbled, turning and batting the hands away.

“John, wake up!”

John opened his eyes. Sherlock was standing above him, eyes gleaming.

“Mmh, what time is it?” John murmured sleepily.

“It’s 2:18 am, and Adam’s messaged us. He’s seen the lights, it’s time.”

“Oh shit, really?” John jolted up, suddenly wide awake. “Let’s go!”

“You see that, over there?” Adam pointed. John and Sherlock watched as, in the darkness, there was a small flash of light. It wasn’t very bright, but in the dark, it may have been a spotlight.

Without hesitation, Sherlock began creeping towards the light. He edged around, creeping like a cat, before breaking into a sprint and leaping at the shrubs. John heard a soft yelp, which thankfully didn’t sound like Sherlock. He ran to Sherlock and turned on his phone flashlight to reveal a short-haired woman with her cheek pressed to the mud, wrists pinned behind her back by Sherlock Holmes.

“Ack!” the woman yelped, “Get off- What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Sherlock, what-“

“Who are you?” Sherlock asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m- not- answering- until- you- get- off!” the woman yelled, thrashing wildly. She actually managed to throw Sherlock briefly, but he held firm until John pulled him off.

“Sherlock, stop-“ John said before turning to the lady. “Sorry about that.”

“You better be,” she scowled, “Who do you guys think you are, going around tackling photographers in the middle of the night?”

“What’s a photographer doing in the middle of the night?” John asked incredulously.

“Wildlife photography,” Sherlock answered.

“How’d you know that?” both John and the photographer asked at the same time.

“Your bag has a logo on it. WWP, World Wildlife Photography. It would explain why you’re in a nature reserve in the middle of the night,” Sherlock explained.

“Oh.” the woman said. “When you put it like that, it sounds bloody obvious, doesn’t it?”

“I will ask you again,” Sherlock said, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Kathleen Moore,” Kathleen glared at Sherlock. “And didn’t you answer your own question? I’m here because I’m a wildlife photographer.”

“Not at all,” Sherlock replied, “Why would a wildlife photographer stay in the same place for over a week, and why would you photograph the worst possible area? Factory construction has driven away most of the wildlife. Not much for you to shoot, is there, Kathleen Moore?”

“Well, I-I’m here for freelance work. I’m taking photographs of the damage caused by the factory to publish in a magazine,” Kathleen replied.

Sherlock regarded her suspiciously, so she continued. “I’ve already got reporters purchasing my photos.”

“Is that so?” Sherlock asked. “Who?”

“Marcus Douglass,” Kathleen replied easily.

“Sorry, who’s Marcus Douglass?” John asked. The name didn’t ring any bells.

“A reporter, obviously,” Kathleen sneered. “Does only one of you have your brains on at a time?”

John probably would have yelled at her for the insult, if Sherlock hadn’t aimed a kick at her shins. Kathleen fell to the mud with a wet splat.

“This is assault!” she wailed. “You can’t do this!”

“Cooperate and I won’t have to,” Sherlock said coldly. “I have questions to ask.” Sherlock reached out a hand wordlessly. The photos, he seemed to say. John retrieved his phone and pulled up the pictures of Flora Hawkins. They were taken from almost exactly where John stood. He handed the phone to Sherlock.

“You took this photo of Flora Hawkins in this very place one month ago. Don’t deny it, you know you did. Then, you sold it to Marcus Douglass.”

Kathleen’s lip quivered. “I didn’t realize what I’d done until it was too late. I saw the person I’d captured in the photo, and heard the commotion, but I’m used to tuning out distractions, so I kept working. I was so tired afterwards that I forgot to delete the photo off my SD card. When Marcus Douglass approached me, he was genuinely interested in my work, so I showed him the photos I’d collected. He loved them, and offered a very good price, so I saw no reason not to sell them to him. It wasn’t until after I’d sent him off with a copy of the photos that I realized what I’d given him, and by that point, there was nothing I could do. He’s gone off and blackmailed the poor girl, or got her arrested, hasn’t he?”

“Hey,” John said soothingly, bending down to rest a hand on Kathleen’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. Any and all blame falls squarely on his shoulders.”

“Why stick around afterwards?” Sherlock asked. “The one person that showed interest in your work turned out to be a fraud. Why continue?”

“Well, I wanted to give up, and very nearly did, too. I took some time off and gave it some thought. I’m still very invested in this little passion project of mine, even if nobody else is. So I chose to keep going,” Kathleen replied. John had to admit, he admired her dedication to her job.

“Very well then, Ms. Moore. That is all. We will leave now,” Sherlock said, turning away.

“Sherlock,” John hissed under his breath. “You tackled this poor girl and kicked her to the ground. Oughtn’t you apologize to her?”

Sherlock looked as if he’d been asked to eat a lemon, peel and all. “Very well, Watson. My- apologies, Kathleen.”

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” John said cheerfully. “Sorry again, Kathleen. Have a nice day- night- is it day now? Whatever. Have a nice one.”

Kathleen gave him a soft smile. “Sorry for what I said earlier, I was worked up. Have a nice day as well. I should go as well. Bye, John.”

John waved goodbye as Kathleen packed up her equipment, then turned to Sherlock. “Well, we have a name now.”

To his surprise, Sherlock was frowning, almost glaring at his shoes as he walked. “Sherlock? You alright there, mate?”

“I don’t trust her.”

“Who? Kathleen? Why not?”

“I didn’t call you John earlier.”

John’s mouth fell open slightly. “But she did.”

“She knew who we were already. She could be in cahoots with the blackmailer. We can’t trust her testimony.”

John sighed, “So what, we’re back to square one?”

Sherlock sighed as well. “Unfortunately.”

-

When they returned to their room, it was three in the morning, yet John and Sherlock both found themselves unable to sleep. Sherlock sat in bed, tapping frantically at his phone, while John paced in slow circles around the room.

“Bugger,” Sherlock cursed under his breath. “Another Marcus Douglass, but this one’s a baker. Not the one we’re looking for. Marcus Douglass may just be a name Kathleen Moore used to throw us off the culprit’s scent.”

“What about Kathleen herself?” John asked.

“I’ve checked. Some of her work’s been published. On the surface, she’s just a small wildlife photographer. She has a website for freelance work, but- wait.”

John moved to peer at Sherlock’s phone from over his shoulder. “What is it- Marcus Douglass. He’s listed as a customer.”

“Marcus Douglass, for ‘Show Your Hand’…” Sherlock opened a new tab and googled the name.

“‘Show Your Hand’… It’s a tabloid magazine. Why did Kathleen think a tabloid wanted wildlife photos from her?” John wondered aloud.

“She didn’t. Her work for Show Your Hand likely wasn’t related to wildlife at all.” Sherlock frowned, “Dammit, there’s no Marcus Douglass on the list of writers for Show Your Hand.”

“Wait, what? If Kathleen’s work wasn’t wildlife related, then what was it?” John asked.

“It’s the perfect moneymaking system. Show Your Hand collects evidence of wrongdoing, then blackmails them. If they refuse to pay up, they publish the scandal. Kathleen Moore was likely hired to watch the area. Hawkins wasn’t the intended target, the company building the factory was.”

“So you think Show Your Hand is behind the blackmail?”

“Yes.”

“That’s brilliant!” John exclaimed. “You’ve done it again, Sherlock!”

“…Thank you.” Sherlock said softly. “But don’t praise me yet. The most dangerous part is still ahead of us.”

“What’s that?”

“We need proof of guilt. Evidence. Show Your Hand has headquarters in London. In the morning, we will pay them a visit.”

“Breaking and entering again?” John sighed. “One of these days, we’ll be able to solve a case without committing a crime.”

Sherlock suddenly glanced sharply at John. “Be careful, John. These people know who we are and tipped Kathleen off about us. Make sure you don’t have any blackmailable secrets out in the open.”

John shrugged, “I don’t think I do. I’m sure I’ll be alright.”

Sherlock yawned softly, then laid down, turned over, and fell asleep. He must have been exhausted. Sherlock clearly didn’t sleep earlier. John glanced at the clock. 3:13. He knew he should be heading to bed as well, but his mind was racing. They were getting close, he knew it. Sherlock’s warning was ominous, but John was sure he would be alright. He wasn’t a secretive man, and had few skeletons in his closet. John glanced at Sherlock. He might not have anything to hide, but what about..?

Sherlock’s phone chimed softly. John glanced at Sherlock, who stirred softly but didn’t wake. The phone chimed again. Sherlock had left it on, and it emitted a soft glow. John reached for it, intending to turn it off, when he remembered Sherlock’s warning. They were being watched by a blackmailing organization. The text was from an unknown number. John itched with curiosity. The phone chimed a third time.

He knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t help himself. He picked up the phone and read the text.

‘Drop the case.

Or I will let the whole world know how hopelessly in love you are with your precious doctor.’

-

“Sherlock, John!” Mariana called when they returned to 2218.

“Hey, Mariana,” John said. “We’re back.”

“There’s something I think you guys should see,” Mariana said, biting her lip.

Sherlock frowned, “What is it, Mrs. Hudson?”

“Follow me.” Mariana led them up the stairs to 221B.

John and Sherlock gasped as they entered 221B. “What the hell happened here?!”

A small cyclone had torn through the room. Drawers were open and shelves were ransacked. Random odds and ends lay on the ground. The window was ajar, a cold breeze blowing through the flat.

“I checked this morning, and found the flat like this,” Mariana explained. “I’m not sure what happened.”

“What do we do?” John asked.

“Nothing here. They’ve made their move. Now it’s time to make ours.” Sherlock turned for the door. “Come with us, Mrs. Hudson, we’re going to Show Your Hand headquarters.”

After lunch, of course. The three of them stopped by a sandwich shop for a bite, and Sherlock explained the case to Mariana. Then, they hailed a cab. The cab brought them to a modern-looking, nondescript building. Sherlock swung the door open and led them inside.

John and Mariana followed Sherlock to the front desk. “Hello, we have an interview scheduled for 1:30.”

The receptionist didn’t even look up from the paperback novel he was reading. “Directory’s on the wall, elevator’s to the left.”

They piled into the elevator. “So, what now?” Mariana asked, looking at Sherlock expectantly.

Before Sherlock could reply, John hit the button for floor 3. “Now, we visit Bobby Crawford,” he said.

Sherlock and Mariana stared at him uncomprehendingly, so he continued. “Robert Crawford is one of the executives at Show Your Hand. A search of his name will reveal an obituary for Marcus Douglass Crawford, his son.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened and he grinned excitedly. “He’s the true mastermind of this scheme. That’s brilliant, John.”

John smiled softly, but the elevator door opened before he could reply. “Let’s go.”

Crawford’s office was at the end of the hall. The door was locked, but Sherlock picked the door open. Inside, it appeared no different from any ordinary office. It had a desk, a potted plant, and a dull gray rug. The entire room was military-neat, not a speck of dust out of place. The only odd thing about the room was the floor-to-ceiling wall of filing cabinets. They were labeled A-Z, and Sherlock wasted no time reaching for one. Out of the ‘F’ box, he dug out a manila folder labeled ‘Flora Hawkins.’ It was thin, almost empty, and only contained the photographs emailed to her, alongside some personal information, such as her address.

“This should be sufficient evidence. Scotland Yard can handle the arrest and investigation.” Sherlock said. “Let’s go- Watson, what are you doing?”

John was digging through the ‘S’ cabinet, rifling through folders. “Looking for something,” he grunted.

“Looking for- John. What are you looking for.” it wasn’t a question. Sherlock knew what John was looking for, or at the very least had a good guess.

“He’s looking for this, of course,” a thin, cold voice spoke from behind them. In the doorway, a man stood. He was in his 60’s, with a significant gut and thinning gray hair. In his hand was a manila folder, stuffed fuller than the one marked Flora Hawkins. On it was the name Sherlock Holmes.

“You look surprised to see this, Mr. Holmes. Curious, that you’re surprised while Dr. Watson isn’t. After all, didn’t I send you all this myself?” Crawford drawled. At Sherlock’s confusion, he laughed, high and cruel. “You don’t know! Watson here has seen your deepest secret, and you didn’t even know!”

Sherlock stiffened. “Watson, what’s this about?”

John bit his lip guiltily. “Yesterday, when you were asleep, you received a text.”

“And you read it?!” Sherlock asked, hurt.

John winced, “I’m sorry, Sherlock. I really am.”

Sherlock looked down, unable to meet John’s stare. “What did you see?”

“I can answer that,” Crawford said, disproportionately cheerful. “Watson here is totally aware of your little crush on him. Isn’t that right?”

John fixed Crawford with a murderous glare. “Fuck off.”

“Heh, I’ll take that as a yes.” Crawford smirked.

Sherlock grit his teeth, not daring to look at John. He knew. Had known for a while now, in fact. Their friendship, which Sherlock had grown to cherish, while not necessarily over, was certainly damaged. Would John be able to look him in the eye, or compliment his brilliance, or any of the other little things Sherlock loved to see him do again without feeling awkward?

“Worry not, Holmes. You needn’t mourn the loss of your friendship for long. You two aren’t going anywhere,” Crawford shut and locked the door, then meandered over to the desk and unlocked a small drawer. From it, he produced a revolver. He flicked off the safety and pointed it at Sherlock. “A single move from you, from either of you,” Crawford said, flicking the gun at John, who’d made a move toward him, “And I’ll blow your brains out.”

“What do you want from us?” John asked tensely.

“Your deaths, mostly,” Crawford said easily. “I can’t have you ruining my empire. But I suppose I could settle for your quiet retirement. If you leave the country and never return, I might not have to kill you.”

“Fuck off,” John hissed. “That’s not happening.”

Crawford shrugged. “Okay. I’m not picky. I suppose I’ll just have to kill you then.” He brandished the weapon between John and Sherlock. “Let’s see, who first? How about… You.” Crawford aimed the gun at John. “I’ll enjoy the look on our consulting detective’s face when his boyfriend gets a bullet to the head.” His finger twitched on the trigger.

John closed his eyes, bracing for impact. Sherlock made an aborted leap for John, sweat beading on his brow.

Suddenly, Crawford was bowled over as Mariana sent his desk chair flying into him. He hit the ground with a curse, gun flying out of his hand. Sherlock leapt forward, snatching the gun from him and pointing it at him. Mariana leveled a kick at Crawford’s vital organs.

“John, call the police!” Sherlock barked.

As John dialed the police, Mariana and Sherlock worked to restrain Crawford and tie him up. When the police arrived, they took the three of them in for questioning. It was well into the afternoon by the time they returned to Baker Street. The air was charged with an awkward tension. Mariana left them on the steps to 221B, unable to be rid of the tense atmosphere soon enough. John and Sherlock stood in their disordered flat, resolutely looking anywhere but each other.

“John,” Sherlock began, at the same time John said, “Sherlock.”

They both stared at each other, then chuckled awkwardly. John motioned for Sherlock to continue.

“I understand if, in light of some new developments, you find yourself, ah, unable to maintain friendly relations with. Me.” Sherlock’s voice broke, and he glanced away, twisting his hands.

“Sherlock, I-”

“I get it. My feelings are unreciprocated, and I wouldn’t expect you to return them. I have made peace with them. I would not want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable my ass!” John snapped. “If anyone’s uncomfortable here, it’s you.” His voice softened. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy like I did. I shouldn’t have read your texts.”

“Quite alright,” Sherlock said, waving off the apology. “I forgive you.” His posture was still stiff, and he still refused to look at John.

“Hey, look at me, Sherlock.” John reached his hand up to brush Sherlock’s cheek. Sherlock flinched softly at the touch. “Even if I wish it was with better circumstances, I’m glad things turned out the way they did. Because, well…” John leaned in and kissed Sherlock.

Sherlock froze like a deer in headlights, making no move to reciprocate or even indicate he was still alive. When John pulled away, he gasped for air like a drowning man, searching John’s face for answers uncomprehendingly.

“I love you too, Sherlock.” John said simply, a sappy grin breaking his rosy cheeks.

Sherlock was sure he was grinning just as hard when he pulled John in for another kiss.

[lfghughes]

If you're still taking requests could I ask for a John Marino x reader that is really into nature/wildlife or a reader that is in vet school for wildlife. I know it really specific, you could broaden it however :)

Ive been reading all of your stuff and you're a fantastic writer! I hope you get all the recognition you deserve

a/n: this made my heart so incredibly happy. when i was little i actually always said this is exactly what i wanted to do as an adult and right after i graduated high school i got to volunteer at a rescue like this for the summer and so idk i loved writing this

“Will you please tell me what we’re doing?” You begged your boyfriend to let you in on at least a little bit of this surprise for you. But all John had told you was for you to dress in clothes that you were okay with getting dirty and to put your hair up. That meant it could be a whole variety of things. He was a guy and an athletic one at that and you just really hoped this wasn’t some mud run kind of thing. “Funny thing is a surprise only works if the other person is…surprised.”

Yeah, you decided your boyfriend was a jerk. A very sweet but sarcastic jerk. You changed into running shorts (and silently hoped there would be no running today) and a tshirt that you didn’t mind getting dirty. “Look okay?” You asked and he nodded his head and looked at your shoes “I would wear those black running shoes you have.” You tried your best to suppress the groan because he really was going to take you running.

Once he deemed you appropriately dressed you got into the car and watched out the window as he drove to see if you could at least figure out what area you would be in. The city just kept getting further and further and eventually you ended up in a much more open area of land. After a hour you found yourself looking at a building that had the letters wildlife sanctuary across it. You couldn’t believe John.

You were currently going to school to be a wildlife vet but you were in your first year and you hadn’t really done any hands on thing and since school took up most of your time you didn’t get to really work with animals yet. “I called them earlier this month and they have a whole day planned for us to work with their tigers and wolves plus I guess they have some other animals they saved. I stopped paying attention the minute they said we’d get to bottle feed a tiger cub because I knew that alone would be your favorite.”

You took back everything you said earlier about him. He wasn’t a jerk, no he was the sweetest boy on the planet who planned the greatest things for you. It was even better than you expected when you got inside. They showed you around the area, explaining their day to day process and they really did put you to work with cleaning the habitats and preparing food. But John was right, the best part was the both of you getting to bottle feed the babies.

It had truly been a day in paradise for you and as you walked around the little gift shop one of the employees started a conversation with you while John shopped around. “Your boyfriend told us all about you and how this is your passion. We know you’re going to school but if you’re interested in volunteering even if it’s once a month we can email you the information. We love having people here who are passionate about rescuing and the hands on experience can be good for you future.”

You were seconds away from asking John to pinch you because surely you were dreaming. Very quickly you nodded your head and got their email from them. It was a longish drive but you’d do this in a heartbeat when you had the free time. As you and John walked back to the car he gave you a small smile “I had a feeling you would like it.” He told you and you stopped him to give him a quick kiss. “I didn’t just like it. I loved it and I love you so freaking much John.”

[lightofraye]

I will answer the question of anon on why they stayed together. I'v seen alot of toxic couples like this, they usually don't last that long. In case of jenneel it lasted that long for 2 reasons, reason no 1, D is a leech and she wont leave as long as he is rich. Reason no 2, Jensen is a person that's incapable of setting boundaries ( letting her being disrespectful towards him, letting her use his ig account, letting her brother live with them) .he is also incapable of setting standards for himself. I remember when he told the story about him not being in home and not seeing her in 2 months. U know couples in such situations will either break up or go to couple counselling because there must be something wrong. not Jensen though, he defended that situation by saying this is their norms. My point is Jensen settled for this toxic relationship and let it continue. I think his ego also played a role, it's hard for him to admit that his life is a nightmare and he chose wrong and elta sucks major time so he totally surrendered to his situation and made an adaptations to it by staying away from home so he can tolerate her and telling lies to spn fans who live through him and D. It's extremely pathetic life if u ask me but that's his choice so he have to live with it.

Hi anon! Thank you for your answer.

This is so wildly correct. Yes. many a toxic relationships exist and can/do last a long time. Hell, my own parents' marriage was severely toxic and last 13 years before my mother had enough and divorced my father. I only last four years with my ex-husband and tried to plan to leave him within the second year. (Circumstances forced me to stay longer, but I was absolutely done before then.)

The fact that their marriage only works because they're apart speaks very badly of their marriage. Hell, when the pandemic lock down happened, a ton of marriages fell apart because the couples realized they couldn't stand their partner!

A healthy marriage is one where together or apart, they're okay. One marriage I follow on Facebook (it's actually a wildlife rescue!) has been around for at least 10 years, longer pre-marriage, and you know what I see when they post? A couple with a healthy, happy, loving relationship--absolutely relationship goals. Through them, I've realized what I needed in a relationship and marriage--and I sure as hell won't settle for less.

Sadly, too many are scared to admit they got it wrong. There's still a strong stigma against divorce, as though therapy and marriage counseling will "fix" the problem. Sometimes the best thing to do is to leave the relationship, not force it to be fixed somehow.

Sometimes the best thing to do is to let it fail.

[sasslett]

Get to know me!

tagged by @elveny, let's see if I can get this done before I have to get out of bed (someone play me the world's smallest violin)

Share your wallpaper: So my PC is set to cycle through my XIV screenshot folder as its wallpaper, so here's my Chromebook (where I do all my writing) and my phone (where I do all my blogging) wallpapers instead!

A lovely comm from thetictactician on Twitter on my Chromebook!

and this amazing comm on my phone from Hollycircling on Twitter, I can't believe she indulged me and went this fucking hard but she did this. In a week.

The last song you listened to: Warrior by Beth Crowley (this is such a Jess song tbh)

Currently Reading:  Ok... so... I actually haven't read any sort of published novel since... 2011, with A Storm of Crows I think? So I used to read a shit ton, but it was 11th grade and my friends were like 'You're still reading kids books? Read something for grown ups instead' (I was rereading Percy Jackson at the time, my beloved). So I gave it a try with a 'grown up' fantasy series and... fuck GoT it was awful and I decided if that's what adult literature was like, I didn't want any part of it. So I quit reading entirely.

Last Movie: Bullet Train, months ago. I don't like watching movies - I'm huge into the behind the scenes stuff, cinematography, lighting, direction, costume design etc etc so it makes it hard to watch movies when my brain won't stop analyzing and criticizing everything (honestly modern cinema is so full of people just 'sending it' for the next big paycheck, the heart is just gone). But my husband insisted I watch this one and you know what? It was actually really well made, I was impressed.

Craving: More time. More time to finish these cosplays (Twelve have mercy the con is in a week and a half), more time to write, more time to decompress. Also craving a Chromebook/laptop/portable writing device that doesn't freeze when I type more than 5 letters in a row...

What are you wearing right now: My nightgown! (still in bed) It's got penguins on it and it's fucking adorable.

How tall are you: 5'5, idk what that is in the rest of the world. Americans, y'know.

Piercings: None, but I bought some super cute Ascian earrings last year and I've been really tempted to get my earlobes pierced.

Tattoos: None, not my thing but totally cool for everyone else!

Glasses? Contacts?: Lasik! Totally worth if you can do it.

Last drink: Choccy milk (I am an adult)

Last show: Last narrative-focused show? Uhhhhhh.... I watched the first season of The Walking Dead in 2012 and I legit can't think of anything more recent. I just don't enjoy watching things much, I'd rather be doing something, and I'm such a snob when it comes to screenwriting/characters that most things just don't appeal to me. Other than that the last non-scripted show I watched was Restaurant: Impossible.

Last thing you ate: An oatmeal chocolate chip cookie my sister made last night.

Favourite colour: Wine/burgundy! That deep, dark, blood red with just a hint of purple (in case you couldn't tell since it's the color my WoL wears in every outfit)

Current obsession: FFXIV lol

Unrelated Obsession: Unrelated? I'd say writing but that's kind of related... So, horses? I mean that's just always my obsession.

Any pets: Uh... yeah. I myself have two horses. And then... we have a shit ton of cats. So in 2020 strays kept showing up at our house and then they'd have babies, eventually we managed to catch them all and get them fixed and now some of them have chosen to move in. Shelters are full all across the state, rescues and fosters are full. So now we have... 10 cats that live inside (it's a large house) and then another six/seven that are still feral outside but fixed at least. Nothing much we can do about it, but keeping them inside keeps them safe and saves the wildlife outside, too.

Do you have a crush on anyone: An eternal crush on my husband. He's just amazing. Soft. Adorable. Handsome. Perfect. Goofy. Gorgeous. Smart. Creative. Loving. So many more words. 12 years together in May!

Favourite fictional character: Assuming player characters/WoLs don't count, Elena Fisher from Uncharted. She was the first female character I encountered who was just... normal. Not a token female, not sexualized eye candy, not walking boobs without a personality, she was... a real person, a real character in her own right, whose gender didn't change who she was. And I fell in love with that back in 2007 (I was in middle school then, so it was kind of a big deal for me). She only got better as the years went by, I still love her.

The last place you traveled: Depends on your definition of 'travel'. On a literal sense probably Portland, but since both that and Seattle are practically in my backyard I don't really count those. Other than that, Philadelphia I think, for a wedding.

TAGGING! Oh so many people should do this. Off the top of my head, if you'd like to... @ainyan, @mimble-sparklepudding, @boggleoflight, @tallbluelady, @humblemooncat, @dragoon-mid-jump, @otherworldseekers, @aethericfist and now I'm out of time and have to get ready for work so anyone else who sees this! Sorry I was tagging in a hurry, I know a lot of you are character/RP blogs so feel free to ignore.

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

Seven snippets, seven people

Well this is a new one for me, lol Thanks for the tag @sleepyowlwrites!!

Pulling snippets from Abracadabra and Halfblood (both going through a re-working) and some of my favorites from Becks' Backstories. No pressure tagging @ettawritesnstudies @kittensartswriting, @bloodlessheirbyjacques, @magic-is-something-we-create, and just an open tag for the rest Because An-Hour-From-Midnight-As-I'm-Typing-Brain Reasons 😂

A JulesXRod conversation. Hard to make a deal when neither of them trusts the other. I mean, it's with reason...

"You want what?" Jules asked, drawing me back to our conversation. Her black eyes stared at me in complete passive boredom, flicking down to the cell in my hand before going back up to my face. "You heard me," I answered, putting the phone away. "I want to make a deal." A slow, patronizing smile spread across her face. "And what could you offer to me, little thief?" "In exchange for your sword, I can offer you a way home." Her smile fell into a frozen line as a look of feigned annoyance crossed her face. "Nice try, darling,” she sighed, flicking some hair over a shoulder as she folded her arms. “The portals were sealed a long time ago. No one can open them these days. Not even you." "They weren't sealed," I said with a sly smile. "They were locked." She shrugged a single shoulder. "Same difference if you don’t have the key, dear.”

Rod does not like the cold.

My fingers were all but frozen as I struggled to close my phone. Kashi was captured, huh? I felt like I should have been more surprised at the news, but I doubted much could surprise me at this point. At least she had one of me there to rescue her. My next stop was so high up in the mountains one could barely breathe. It was cold. So cold. So, so freaking cold. The air was thin. Snow whipped my body and stung my face. None of it was nearly as intimidating as the twenty-foot circle of protective magic set smack-dab in the middle of the frozen forest. It was old magic, completely foreign to Terra. There was no wildlife around to speak of. Even the trees seemed reluctant to come near the barrier. They kept the edge of the circle at arm's length, the very edges of their branches inches away from the invisible border. I stood at the edge, staring down.

Rod talks it out with a sentient sword.

I gave a frustrated snort. "No, I mean what is he? He has far too much magical ability to be human." "He's…" She hesitated, green eyes paling. “…complicated." “Aren’t we all.” It was a dodgy answer, and she knew it. A small telling smirk rested on her pale face, her form flickering for a moment. The sword was laughing at me. I’m the imp. I laugh at people. A look of annoyance passed across her face, color returning to her body in a sharp burst. "Did you learn what you needed or not?" "I always learn," I said, crossing my arms. “The question is whether or not I’ll act.” We stared at each other for a moment more, but it was posturing at this point. There was no sense in picking at a dead plant if you’re not looking for firewood. I shot her a quick smile. "It's high time for a family reunion, Lady Grace. Let's say we go find your niece." Said niece, ‘Jules’ by name, was a six-foot tall sociopathic witch with a bloodlust rivaled only by some of the oldest and meanest Elewnai. She had been active lately, but the last I heard, Jules had run off to Spain with an ex-Keeper and was hiding out with him in an abandoned house off one of the side-roads connected to a rural town. Granted, sometimes keeping track of timelines was difficult thanks to my hat, but it seemed a good enough place to start.

An introduction to Kashi that I wrote a few days ago. Kashi does not like collars.

Rain. Cold spikes through the dark of the night, stabbing and splintering across the rooftops, dancing against the concrete and stone that stretched out in an endless sweep of man-made structures, ones meant to break the horizon and reach into the sky. Kashi crouched silently, pressing against the night and hiding from starlight. Her nose for magic had led her to this place, the trail of one of her kind dragging itself through the air and the earth until it seemed to settle here. She wasn’t sure what was so important about this place, only that her prey had stopped here and so had she. Dark splotches of water peppered the street and sidewalk below, pooling in the cracks spiderwebbing across the cement while the dim streetlights showed barely a halo of electric light below. It was enough to see by, her eyes flicking between shadow and light as she waited. A band of metal around her neck itched, the light flashing just enough to be annoying, to let you think it had finished before flashing again. Damn Keepers. They wanted her to hunt down one of her own kind but didn’t give her nearly enough room to do it in. Probably afraid that she’d run if they didn’t collar and tag her before letting her loose. And they were right.

Back in the Old West days, Becks went by Jo Hunter, Witch of the Mojave. And she likes killing people.

She licked her lips and turned back to the one at gunpoint. Pressed the tip of her pistol into his skin. “Now…you want to think about your next move? Or should we get to the part where I just kill you?” He didn’t stop glaring, his victim having already scuttled away and was hiding in the corner. Body tensed as he made his decision. “Go to hell!!” he roared, turning and slapping her gun away, rounding on her with a gun of his own. She used the action to spin away from the wild shot, turned and kicked out, catching him in the leg hard enough to bring him to a knee. She regained her footing and locked a hand around his neck, enhancing the grip with a thick set of vines that wormed their way under his skin. And smiled. Laughed. “Where do you think I come from!?” His eyes widened as she began to suck his life away, slowly and painfully. His hands wrapped around hers, confusion and panic setting in as he realized he couldn’t pry it away. Too weak, too scared. Eyes began to wander, but she latched onto his brain and forced him to listen to her. Forced his brain to do what she said. “Look into my eyes,” she whispered. “I wanna watch your pitiful little soul escape as I suck it from your sockets.”

1700s, Becks was known as Silvia. She's started to get the idea that maybe William isn't what he seemed like at first but isn't sure she wants to care.

He frowned. Looked at the ground. Back at her. Walked up to her and put a hand on her arm. “Please? You know he likes you more than me. And…I know you don’t like it when he’s angry. I know you don’t like it when I…” he hesitated as she began to draw away from him, his grip on her arm tightening just a little. Just enough to keep her there. “Angel. Come back with me.” She looked at his hand. His grip was…she wanted to run. To flee. It was too restricting against her arm. Pulling her, keeping her there. But…But William liked her. More than liked her, if he had been telling the truth the last few years. And he had never been afraid of her. Not like Bran. Not like the mages. Not like the humans. Never feared her. She pouted a little and finally nodded. “Alright, I’ll…William. I’ll do it, just let go.” He kept his hand around her arm just a little longer, looking her in the eyes. There was a flicker of something there…some satisfaction almost. It was gone in a moment as he smiled and let her arm go. “Thank you, Angel. Let’s get back before he loses his mind even more.”

And this is when Becks was known as Mattie, and what Mattie did to people that threaten her kid.

“We’re taking the child,” the man stated, hand around Lily’s arm. “And that gun isn’t going to change the issue.” Mattie had a rifle trained at his head, stood steady and still on the rickety old porch. “Say that again when you aren’t sweating,” she snapped. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” he said calmly. “This creature���” “My kid!!” “--is not even human. Not all the way, at any rate. She’s clearly messed with your head, made you think she’s your daughter, but believe me. That’s what these things do.” “Call her a thing one more time,” Mattie said calmly, “and it’ll be the last words you speak.” “Ma’m, I can assure you. Your life will be better without her in it. These things–” A shot rang out. The body jerked, dropped to the floor.

Thanks again! (And sorry it took so long!)

[dm-clockwork-dragon]

Ok, like, I do get the concerns people have but as someone who grew up with 15+ cats in an urban area (yes, my mom was an animal hoarder to some degree, and that is its own issue), I have a few things to say on this:

Is going outside dangerous for my cat? Yes. Of course. Anything other than sleeping is dangerous. Especially if you declaw your cats or otherwise remove their natural tools of survival. Especially if you cat has only ever lived inside. But if your cats are primarily rescued strays? They are prepared for that danger. We lost cats on occasion, sure. We even had one shot by a neighbor once. But "I want to keep my baby safe" is no more an excuse to deny your cats a fulfilling life outside your house than it is to keep a child locked inside for their entire life. That's just sorta a bunk argument to me. Cats are natural predators and survivors. We bred them for that. Locking them inside is not any more humane to the cat than letting them take risks in the big scary world outside your doorstep.

Are housecats an invasive species that threatens native animal populations? Sortof. Yes, cats are invasive, and they do totally prey on native wildlife such as birds, rodents, snakes, and lizards. Its literally why we domesticated them. But my friends, that ship sailed about 100 years ago. I'm not saying we should let feral cat populations run unchecked. Spay and neuter your goddamed animals, please. But my one tabbycat is not destroying the ecosystem, and neither are the 200 housecats in a 10 mile radius of me. That honor goes to the population of 2000+ feral cats, who have already carved out a niche - albiet a destructive one - in my local area.

The thing is, felis domesticus has been around for longer than some species have even existed, and genetic investigation tells us that cats have been domesticated multiples times around the world in total isolation of each other. At this point, while they *are* invasive predators, they have been around long enough that the ecosystems have adapted.

What the native ecosystems have *not* adapted to is urban sprawl, deforestation. And total habitat loss. Feral cat populations skyrocket in highly urban areas, not because they are super predators capable of outcompeting native predators, but because humans kill off native predators and natural habits in favor of artificial environments that We - and our domesticated friends - find more favorable.

So no, I don't feel bad about letting my cat loam the neighborhood and live life as he was bred for centuries to do. I feel bad that they are currently bulldozing half the forest a few blocks from my house, which supports a thriving population of deer, coyotes, birds, rabbits and other native biodiversity, despite the presence of a similarly thriving population of feral cats, that has been here for more than 100 years. "Cat owners are destroying the environment" is just one more example of scapegoating individuals to distract from the damage done by human industry and corporate greed. Garfield is not the fat cat destroying ecosystems for profit.

[ardentguilt]

MUN ABOUT

I’m a 1994 guy. Australian Transman 7 Years on T as of 2024. Had top surgery + Hysterectomy. I am very open about my identity and happy to answer questions relating to transitioning, surgeries etc whether you’re trans yourself, a friend or family member of someone trans or just questioning. Provided youre open minded and respectful i have no problem with being asked questions and offering information and advice. Pretty chill because who has the time or energy to get all worked up over every single thing going on (not me that’s for sure). I’ll be upfront and say right now I have the social skills of week old roadkill but I do try so bear with me. 14 piercings. 7 tattoos (and planning more) If you need anything tagged feel free to let me know and i’ll respond to you telling you what i’ve tagged that thing as so you can blacklist it. I usually remember to tag things that people have asked me to tag for them but sometimes i’ll momentarily forget (i do go back and edit to add the necessary tag/s as soon as i catch my slip-up) Only thing i ask tagged myself is human skeletons and human skulls because those are things i REALLY cannot do. I have autism so theres that. For me i AM verbal so it affects me more socially regarding social skills (singled out as ‘the weird kid’ growing up and never had friends/social invited to practice and develop social skills normally :( ) and sensory stuff (hypersensitive hearing, light sensitivity, unable to feel nearly all physical pain) My main interests are animals and collecting mineral specimens (i prefer raw/natural samples that show off growth habits and crystal structures over tumbled/polished stones) I have a lot of rescue animals i care for: 2 cats who are siblings from the same litter (River and Willow) 2 Central Bearded Dragons (Spike & Puff) who were surrendered by their original owners who realised they had no idea what they were doing so ive been able to rehabilitate these lizards back to as good a condition as was possible and im just working with them to provide the unique care they need to manage their health conditions. Spike in particular is VERY elderly (9 years old at MINIMUM but possibly older). Spike is short range blind and has some arthritis as well as dental issues and recently miraculously beat a rare nasty cancer. Puff is younger than Spike (approximately 6 years old) and he’s missing all but one toe on his rear left foor, has a slightly misshapen skull and suspected brain injury due to some sort of head trauma as a hatchling that also fractured his jaw (healed up now) and has a slight lip deformity giving him a little pout at times as a result of a nutritional deficiency when he was younger. I also have a LOT of fish (all freshwater tropical. Angelfish, Gourami, Yoyo Loach, Kuhli Loach, tetras {Neon, Cardinal, Rummy Nose}, Corydora Catfish, Swordtails, Bumblebee Goby, Bristlenose Plecos, Spotted Silver Dollars) I additionally also care for a native rescue bird (Australian Noisy Miner male named Cricket) who was orphaned as a tiny nestling and was deemed non-releasable. Relating to my interest in animals (particularly their care, rescue and rehabilitation) i hold certifications in Herpetology (study or reptiles and amphibians), Reptile Zoology, Zookeeping, Wildlife Sustainability & Conservation and am currently studying Australian Native Wildlife with the intent to follow up with Veterinary Assistant. I hold licencing to keep and care for a range of native Australian animals including small to medium native birds, small to medium native lizards and small to medium non-venemous snakes. Additionally i have recently written and had published an introductory guide to keeping Bearded dragons as pets (A Guide To Bearded Dragons As Pets by Jordan Bonner) available as an ebook from Apple Books, Amazon and Kobo for $7.99 AUD or as a physical paperback from Amazon ($24.99 AUD) or Direct from the Print Company which you can order by contacting me via email (bearded.dragon.guidebook@gmail.com) for pricing and payment details.

[forever-rogue]

Hey p! Can we maybe, have part 2 of 👀 your last obi wan fic👀 pretty please 🥺

AN | This man deserves everything and I want to give it to him! 🥰 Enjoy!

Pairing | Obi-Wan x Fem!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 1.6k

Masterlist | Main, Star Wars

Part 1, Part 3

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

“Have you ever thought about starting a family?” the question left his lips before he was even fully aware of it. Once trained and hardwired to refrain from speaking without first contemplating what he was saying, he had loosened up in the years since. At first you hadn’t heard him fully, too busy tending to the small garden the two of you had planted.

It was a far cry from the home you’d known on Tatooine; this was lush and green and flowing with wildlife. Takodana might not have been the safest place in the galaxy - then again no place was - but it was close to it. When Obi-Wan had first suggested a move, you hadn’t believed him; now that it was a reality, you knew it had the best decision. 

“What was that?” you studied the fresh vegetables before tossing them into your basket. When you were met with silence, you wiped your hands on your pants and turned to him, “my love?”

“I…it is nothing,” he insisted with a soft little half smile. You didn’t quite believe him, but weren’t about to pressure him to admit anything either. He would tell you, he always did, on his own terms. Perhaps you weren’t even meant to hear just yet, “do you need a hand with anything?”

“I’ve got it,” you promised as you slowly stood up, stretching to relieve some of the tension that had settled in your bones while you gardened, “you could do me one favor though - can you check on the washing? I just want to finish up here and then I’ll be in.”

“Of course,” he paused for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek as his feet seemed to be rooted in the wrong. You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at him.

“Obi? Everything alright? You’re acting…off.”

“Yes,” he insisted, snapping back into a reality, a flush of crimson creeping up in his cheeks, “I’ll see you inside then.”

You offered him a small wave as he slowly padded back inside, his head already in the clouds. There was a moment where you wondered if he knew what was on your mind, what had been going on lately. While it was a very real possibility, you didn’t think he was any wiser. He’d know soon enough anyway, might as well let it be a surprise. 

The small droid you’d decided to welcome into your home chirped happily as he held out an arm to take the basket of vegetables from you. It was an old R4 unit you had more or less rescued and given a second life; he was sweet and you couldn’t deny that it was nice to have a little helper around. 

“I know,” you told him, patting the top of his head gently, “he’ll find out soon. I’m surprised he doesn’t know already. I’m even more surprised you haven’t gone and spilled the beans! And don’t argue with me - you are the most gossipy droid I’ve met!”

He beeped a sarcastic response before moving towards the house with you following close behind. This was a far cry from the life you’d onced lived, isolated and alone in the desert. This was nice, this was where you were meant to be. As one with him - your love.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─

Obi-Wan had been moving around restlessly in bed for what seemed like hours now. You hadn’t said anything at first, positive that he would eventually sleep but it never came. Then again, you’d been up the entire time as well, partly because his tossing and turning had kept you awake and partly because your own thoughts wouldn’t leave you either. At some point, you couldn’t take it any longer and you reached across the bed for him. 

“Hey,” you whispered softly, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. He stopped moving almost instantly, letting out a small sound that seemed like relief. Tugging on his arm gently, you motioned for him to face you. He did so, and you laid so you could face him, brushing a few stray locks of hair out of his face, “maybe if you told me what was on your mind, it might help you sleep.”

“You’re very sly, aren’t you?” he couldn’t help the smile that tugged up the corners of his mouth as you offered him an innocent little grin.

“That all depends on whether or not you’re actually going to divulge anything to me,” you leaned in so the tip of your nose was brushing against his, “or perhaps you could kiss me instead. Both would be great, but if I have to settle for one, I’ll take what I can get.”

“I’m assuming, as always, you have a preference?” there was an amused lilt to his voice, and you see the twinkle in his eyes despite the only pale moonlight filtering into the room. You smiled sweetly, and he laughed - a genuine, soft laugh that you’d been craving to hear all day, “both?”

“Both,” you agreed before he finally kissed you, softly and sweetly letting his lips linger against yours, “always both, my love. Now tell me - what were you going to ask me earlier?"

"It was not…important," for someone who could be so convincing, he was not a good liar. 

"If it was not important, then why has it been bothering you all day?" your hand found his face as you gently touched brushed your thumb over his cheek, "i am more attuned to your idiosyncrasies than you might think."

"Indeed you are," he agreed with the smallest huff, "I asked you earlier if you had ever given thought to starting a family?"

Ah. So you had heard him correctly.

“Starting a family?” you mused softly as you heard him inhale sharply. He was…nervous for your answer. Interesting - he wasn't normally one to succumb to nerves, “I already have a family. You and Four…perhaps it’s not the most conventional family, but that’s what we are.”

“I suppose…you’re right.”

“Family isn’t necessarily blood or normal, as you well know,” you grinned as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer, “family is what you make it.”

“Ever the philosopher,” he kissed you softly and you easily gave in to him, “I suppose I should have rather asked if you’d ever thought about expanding our family?”

“Oh,” you pretended to be surprised as you pulled back to gauge his reaction. You wondered if he did know and was trying to get it out of you. But as you looked at him intently, trying to get a good read on him, you realized that somehow he didn’t know, “you mean…a child?”

“Yes,” his answer was soft, barely spoken so only you could hear it. Obi-Wan tried to read your face, which you were struggling to keep pointedly neutral, “it’s…only a thought of course.”

“Of course,” you agreed seriously, offering him a nod of agreement as you tried to hold back your giggles, “can I admit something to you, Obi-Wan?”

“You can tell me anything,” you reached for his hand, gently bringing it to your lips before pressing a kiss to his knuckles. You felt him relax next to you and you decided that now was as good a time as any to let him in on the little secret you’d been carrying around for several weeks. 

“I…might be a few steps ahead of you in the desire to expand our little family,” you whispered, noticing that his face immediately went through several different expressions as he tried to piece together what you were saying. He didn’t respond for a few moments, but you were sure he had reached the only logical conclusion, “Obi-Wan?”

“You’re…pregnant?” he sounded so incredulous, so in awe that any hesitation you might have had that quickly dissipated. 

“Yes,” you said softly, “I am. I found out…a few weeks ago. I wasn’t sure what to think at first - it took a while for me to process. And then I didn’t quite know how to tell you either. I was going to tell you, obviously, and it’s not like I could have hid it forever, but…yeah. I was kind of wondering if you were going to put the pieces together.”

“I…I thought something had felt different,” he admitted quietly, “but I didn’t think…well. This is a surprise.”

“A good surprise or…?”

“A most wonderful surprise,” he promised as he laced his fingers through yours, giving them a light squeeze, “the best surprise.”

“I thought so too,” you made a small sound of surprise as he pulled you as close as possible into his body, “so to answer your question - yes, I have given it some thought. I love you, Obi-Wan.”

“I love you, my most darling, beautiful girl,” he kissed you, deeply and hungrily, needing all of you over all of him, “thank you.”

“Whatever for, silly man?”

“This, you - all of it,” he whispered against your lips, “our family.”

[hasellia]

As a resident of Eastern Australia let me tell you this. Lorikeets are parrot gremlins.

Now spend enough time around parrots and you know every parrot has some degree of gremlin energy, but lorikeets encapsulate this the best because 1, they're very fucking loud. I once watched a program where the head vet of a wildlife rescue center admit the best noise in the clinic is a lorikeet being anaesthetised. This is made worse by their social gregariousness. And 2, they're necter feeders. Imagine having your morning tea, watching the world go by when suddenly your rose garden is assaulted by the sound of up to 50 loud parrots coming in to join you. Lorikeets don't care about human social class. They only care about their loved ones, food and being fucking loud.

All this is to say, lorikeets absolutely do not deserve a vote on moral grounds. But they're sheer goblin energy is deserving of recognition and acknowledgement.

(Side note if you're aussie, some lorikeets observed suffering from a mysterious wing paralysis disease. It's non-fatal if caught early enough. One of the supposed culprits is the nectars of non-native flowering plants in people's gardens. I'm not really sure what you can do with information, other than take note if you've seen lorikeets eating from your flowers and if there's been any cases of wing paralysis.)

Remember to read about the contestants before voting!

Vampire Finch

The Vampire Ground Finch is an unassuming little finch, who mainly feed on seeds and insects. But, when these resources are scarce… they feast upon the blood of Boobies! They even have a similar microbial biome to a vampire bat in their stomachs. They will also feed on eggs and guano (nasty). What a resourceful little fellow. Learn More!

Rainbow Lorikeet

These brightly colored parrots hail from Australia. It uses its specifically evolved tongue to eat pollen and nectar, as well as many different kinds of fruit. In the wild they aggressively defend their nesting territory, and will even square up against Australian Magpies (who are relatively bigger compared to them). Learn More!

(Vampire Finch photo by Jaime Chaves) (Rainbow Lorikeet photo by Ged Tranter)

[coricomile]

Recently, Robert Irwin joined TikTok and his first video was a cute little clip of him with a koala bear introducing the account and his other videos have been him showing off some of the animals of the Australia Zoo. It's sweet and wholesome and a tiny bit educational. Sometimes. Mostly just cute, healthy Australian wildlife.

The comments seem to be full of a lot of "You look just like your dad!" And "your dad would be so proud!" And "carrying on Steve's legacy!" Which: he does, he would be, and he is. And maybe those will die out a little and focus more on the zoo and the animals and conservation- which does seem to be the point of the account. They're all focused on the animals instead of him, except for one recreate an old photo trend that had nothing to do with Steve- as the account ages.

But....

Steve died in 2006, which doesn't seem that long ago to me, but that's 16 years. Robert is only 18. He's had more time with the influence of his mother and sister and grandfather than with his father, which is unfortunate for so many reasons that have nothing to do with who Steve was, but just for Robert and Bindi not having their father and Terri not havi the love of her life.

If anyone helped to cultivate the intrest Robert (and Bindi! She's still also very, very active with the zoo and wildlife preservation) had in conservation, it would be Terri, who is often left out of the conversation. To be fair, she also does bow out and give all credit for the sun and the moon to Steve, because he was a great man and she still is very much in love with him. And I'm sure for both kids their love for their father and the childhoods they had because of who Steve was inspired their love of animals and zookeepery and rescue, but Terri kept that inspiration alive and they became their own people with their own ways of approaching things.

There isn't, like, a point to this post other to express my weird feelings and wonder if other people feel the same way. Not just about Robert. Bindi also gets a lot of praise for being like Steve instead of for her actual contributions, but it seems a little more intense for Robert since he does look like a young Steve and is a directly "transferable" replacement as a man to his father.

There is absolutely no denying that Steve Irwin has done more for Australian conservation and general worldwide wildlife awareness than most people could even dream of. He was affable, clearly loved absolutely every second of his job and his life, and carried the "omg, let's get a beer and talk about birds/snakes/wallabies for 10hrs straight" energy hard. He died doing what he loved, on an accident that the Irwin family has- and he, most likely, would have- accepted as an accident that wasn't the fault of the wild animal. There is no telling what he might have been able to do if he hadn't had that accident.

But there is no telling. Steve is gone, but Terri is in charge of the Australia Zoo now and it's thriving. Robert and Bindi both work as public personalities to raise awareness and as advertisers for the zoo and the work they do, and also as on-the-ground keepers to the animals. They are still doing important work, on their own, of their own accord, with their own ideas (possibly with Mom imput) and it just feels.... icky to me that every time the general public should be praising them, they're being praised by proxy to a great man that happens to be their father, who also happens to have been dead for nearly 20 years.

I don't know them so I don't know how they feel. But, if I were Robert (or Bindi) and everything I ever do is held up to a cultural icon and compared, I would be worn out so fast.

[dragon-seahorse]

My uhhh...my hand slipped and I just made a one shot of Kunikida becoming a vampire. Sorry if the ending seems a lil rushed or if anyone is OOC I spent most of yesterday typing this out on and off.

Content Warning: Almost Major Character death,mentions of blood and injury/impaliment,OCs,Dazai's su***dal thing is only briefly mentioned. If forgot anything let me know.

Kunikida woke up to moonlight shining down on his face, as he glanced around he realized he was at the bottom of a large hole in the ground with what seemed to be large amounts of rubble and debris scattered around where he lay. He shuddered feeling oddly cold despite the warm night air as he moved to try and sit up when a sharp pain stopped him in his tracks causing him to swear under his breath. He lifted his head a bit feeling a headache coming on along with this new found pain and saw something he wished he didn't, there imbedded in his chest and side were three pieces of rhubarb sticking out of him like the limbs of an old gnarled tree.

Two pieces were in his side while the last one had just narrowly avoided his heart but the blood was starting to pool, contributing to his cold feeling and he was pretty sure he had a few broken bones on top of this"Fuck..." he muttered to no one but himself. It hurt to move but he had to, However,no matter how much he willed himself he just...couldn't. He couldn't even reach his probably broken phone to call for help he truly felt helpless in this moment.

He huffed, letting his body go limp as he looked up at the moon and started to wonder if this was it for him,if he was going to die in the remains of an old dilapidated building, if he was going to leave the agency,Katai,everyone he loved and cared for behind. He wondered with tears welling up in his eyes who would look after Dazai in his stead to make sure he was alright and wasn't off trying another one of hair brained schemes to off himself or if the brunette's efforts would only double with his own passing.

Some silent tears rolled down his cheeks as his thoughts of his friends-no...his family filled his mind. If only he could see them one more time,laugh with them,see them smile and chat together about everything and nothing at all. He closed his eyes for a moment taking as deep of a calming breath as he could, Of all the times for his anxiety to act up this was ironically the worst and best possible time. His eyes snapped open when he heard faint voices a bit further behind from where he lay 'were other people trapped here too?' Kunikida thought to himself then paused, 'No...that's impossible I was the only one here I was investigating the rumors that either a gang or a group of smugglers were taking residence in this old crumbling hell hole I've found myself in right now. No one was here there wasn't even any signs of life other than the local wildlife so who...who could this be?'.

Before he could question his situation any further a jolt of pain ripped through him and he gasped involuntarily followed by a quite string of curses. The voices had stopped talking and Kunikida gulped thickly, This was it this is where he either dies of his own injuries or a gunshot to the head or if he's extremely lucky they might've been night hikers or those urban explorers The Tanizaki's talked about every now and then so he waited...waited to hear anything or any sort of indication of who had found him.

"Hey! If someone's here can you call out to us!?" A voice called a man's voice Kunikida concluded and he actually sounded worried from what he could tell. Kunikida sighed in relief then coughed a bit before he Spoke as loud as he could muster "O...Over...Here!!". Kunikida then heard two sets of footsteps rushing towards him. Footsteps that if Kunikida was more coherent would seem too fast to be normal for a human.

Tired,unfocused pale green eyes soon met glowing amber eyes? 'Odd...' Kunikida thought but he was starting to fade and at this point he didn't even care about what his rescuers looked like or how strange their features were No, he just wanted to get out of here and maybe...just maybe he could hold on long enough to be treated by Yosano. His hope of that was dashed though as the man with amber eyes swore under his breath as he knelt down and examined Kunikida's wounds. "It's that bad isn't it?...." Kunikida asked with a sigh already knowing the answer.

The amber eyed man gave Kunikida a sympathic look and glanced over at his partner another man from what he could tell who looked concerned and wait...was this other man's eyes glowing silver? 'How strange...'Kunikida thought before he looked over ar the amber eyed man who came closer to him. Kunikida blink in surprise as he noticed the amber eyed man's silver hair shone in the moonlight,he also noticed a pair of glasses in the man's short sleeved blue flannel shirt pocket. "Unfortunately yeah we're not gonna be able to get you to a hospital fast enough...you've not only been impaled but your leg's...pretty fucked up and probably some other stuff too" The man said and Kunikida sighed. Great he really was going to die here and he'd have to die in front of these two poor strangers how could this get any worse?

"But..." The man said and Kunikida's thoughts froze and he looked up and into the man's amber eyes curiously as if trying to urge him to continue before he faded out completely. "I can save you...However, it's gonna hurt a bit and I won't be able to reverse this by myself afterwards But, you will survive and I will explain everything once you've recovered I just need you to give me your permission to do so" the man continued.

Kunikida blinked in confusion 'this man could save me? How?' He thought before he shuddered a little and a warm hand grabbed his increasingly cold one. Kunikida looked up and saw the silver eyed man gazing at him in genuine concern and sympathy "Either way...what ever you choose we won't leave your side" the silver eyed man said his voice soothing and calm.

Kunikida blinked once,twice before he sighed and closed his eyes feeling grateful that he wouldn't be alone in what seemed to be his final moments. Then after a moment or two of thought he let out a shakey breath and came to a conclusion. He didn't want to die, not like this, It was not in his ideals to die in a ditch in the middle of nowhere among two kind but mysterious strangers so he opened his eyes hopefully not for the last time and spoke "I don't care what you have to do...I'll deal with any and all consequences that come with what will happen. So please...don't let me die here like this and explain everything to me once this is over".

The amber eyed man smiled softly and nodded "Alright then that can easily be done but for now though....Welcome to the Clan of Black Moon~ My name is Anthony Moon and I will your sire" he said then as gently as he could he helped Kunikida sit up,A sharp stinging feeling was felt in the blond's neck and that was when everything went black.

---------

It had been three days since Doppo Kunikida went missing and the agency was in a state of worry and chaos. Katai,The Tanizakis,The office workers and even Fukuzawa and Yosano in any time they could spare were all scanning through local Security footage. Atsushi,Kyouka and Kenji were hitting the streets trying to gather any and all eye witness statements about their missing member. Even Poe and Lucy were helping them out wherever they could.

Ranpo had figured out where Kunikida was the morning he disappeared: an old abandoned building that was on the outskirts of Yokohama. It had been rumored, that the building was being used as a hide out for a new yet young and inexperienced smuggling ring or a gang of delinquents that Ranpo had already concluded was completely false. However said building was quite old and dilapidated to the point it was falling apart. To make matters worse was built right ontop of a sinkhole and when a minor earthquake shook the building the night prior that was all it took to send it crumbling down.

What Ranpo was now trying to figure out was where he went. Dazai and Atsushi had gone out to the site the morning of Kunikida's disappearance because if there was one thing the agency could always count on it was the fact that Kunikida has always arrived right at 8am sharp like clockwork every day barring any major issues. If anything ever did come up he would always call or text The President to let him know and let Dazai know as well. However, there was nothing,no message, no call, nothing at all to indicate Kunikida wouldn't be there that day other than letting the others know he would be out on a simple stake out mission the night prior. Atsushi had told Ranpo that they found nothing in the rubble other than what Dazai described as a nasty blood stain on the ground in the center of the collapse.

Speaking of Dazai, Ranpo looked over at the brunette's currently empty desk and let out a sigh. Dazai ever since they came back from scouting out that building was more motivated than Ranpo had ever seen him. Ranpo and Dazai seemed to be on the same page, They knew Kunikida was injured,badly by the look and sound of it But,they both had a gut feeling he was still alive somehow. Now it was all just a matter of finding him and bringing the blond back home. So even Dazai was hitting the streets, even calling in a few favors to get any and all information he could.

Their three day search However, was about to end as Ranpo looked up from the papers on his desk curiously as he heard thundering footsteps rushing up the stairs and both he and Poe moreso flinched as the door burst open and Atsushi,Kyouka and Kenji stood there catching their breaths "D-DAZAI FOUND HIM!!!" Atsushi exclaimed "He-He..." Atsushi continued but paused taking a few deep breaths to help stop his stutter before he actually continued"He found Kunikida and he's gonna bring him back w-with the people who found and saved him!".

Kenji and Kyouka nodded in confirmation "We were there when Atsushi got the call they'll be here in thirty minutes" Kyouka informed.

"Yeah! Dazai told us that two men found him in the rubble and brought him to safety and tended to his wounds but he still might have to see Doctor Yosano to be safe!" Kenji added.

Ranpo's eyes opened in shock and both he and Poe glanced at each other before they gave each other an understanding nod before the rest of the Agency came filing into the main office,murmurs of cautious excitement filling the air. "Is...Is it true did Dazai really find Kunikida?" Junichiro tentatively asked sounding hopeful and Atsushi nodded. So now all they had to do was wait, wait for their missing memember to finally come back home.

Minutes felt like hours as they waited the regular employees were going back to their previous work while those in the main office waited with baited breath even Fukuzawa seemed a bit anxious as they waited. Then when they heard the familiar jiggle of the door handle everyone's attention snapped to the door and in came Dazai followed by a Six foot seven inches tall buff American man with silver eyes,Brown,Slicked back hair, With hairy arms,A little scruff on his chin ,Tan skin and three large scars on the bottom of the left side of his jaw wearing a simple white,short sleeved button up shirt,red tie,a gray vest and matching pants and nice pair of black dress shoes.

Another six foot tall man followed in after the other one this time with Amber eyes framed by a pair of black half rimmed glasses,Long Silver hair that was tied in a ponytail with some strands framing his face ,Fair skin with a peitite goatee on his chin, A blue short sleeved flannel shirt, black pants and a pair of gray tennis shoes who gave a small yet friendly wave to the others. Kenji waved back while Atsushi shyly waved back.

There was a still silence in the air as everyone looked to the door in nervous anticipation waiting for the missing member to come through that door. It took a few seconds before there was a soft sigh and Kunikida came into the room looking exhausted but okay and in one piece otherwise. He was also wearing a short sleeved red flannel shirt with a loose black shirt,denim pants and his usual shoes, clearly borrowed from the silver haired man. Before Kunikida could even say a word though he was suddenly tackled in a hug by none other than Ranpo and Yosano who were then quickly joined by Atsushi, Kyouka, Kenji and the Tanizakis. Fukuzawa even came up and put a comforting hand on Kunikida's shoulder.

"Welcome back Kunikida,We're glad to have you back and in one piece" Fukuzawa said then a small chorus of the others welcoming him back home soon followed after. Kunikida's surprised expression softened as he tried his best to return the group hug before they all broke apart. Naomi then grabbed Kunikida's hand and brought him over to his desk and had him sit down in his chair. Once seated Kunikida sighed once more this time out of content than nerves then looked up at the others "Thank you President...It's...It's honestly a relief to be back, and I apologize for worrying you all as well." He said.

"It's fine! But,What happened to you Mister Kunikida?" Kenji asked as the others looked over at the blond in question.

"Yeah I'd like to know that too me and Poe have been trying to figure out where you've been the last three days!" Ranpo exclaimed.

"Asleep apparently." Kunikida replied bluntly which made everyone stare at him with a mix of confusion and concern on their faces and Kunikida shrunk a bit in his seat.

"You were asleep this whole time?" Atsushi asked blinking owlishly.

Kunikida nodded "Yes I was,And it was because I was recovering from my nearly fatal injuries. That fall...was not pretty But,Anthony and Darric saved me and got me out of there and nursed me back to health." He said and pointed to Anthony the amber eyed man and Darric the silver eyed man respectively.

"But,wait near fatal?...how were you able two able to save him then?" Yosano asked as she looked over at the two men.

Anthony sighed and came over to Kunikida's side then placed his hand on the blond's shoulder "that answer is simple why don't you give them a smile Kunikida? I'll explain after that" he suggested and Kunikida bit his lip contemplating the suggested before he nodded.

Kunikida looked up at the others and gave them all a smile that showed off his teeth and it was plain to see that all of Kunikida's canine teeth had become longer and sharper"You....You're a vampire now aren't you Kunikida?" Ranpo asked almost in disbelief as emerald green eyes locked with pale green.

"Yes I am...and I've been asleep these past three days recovering I woke up around dawn today" Kunikida confirmed.

"But wait!? Oh my god how were you outside just now!? Are you okay!? If you're still recovering isn't the sun light bad for you!?" Junichiro exclaimed with a worried look.

"And that's where I come in" Anthony chimed in and nodded to Darric who nodded back and went over to the nearest window to open up the blinds letting sunlight hit both Anthony and Kunikida who both seemed perfectly fine. "I am Anthony Moon and I'm what's known as Daywalker a much more powerful vampire than the ones you see in media and Three days ago to save Kunikida's life I turned him into a vampire thus making me his sire and him my child. When I was first turned by my own sire I was out for a week due to almost dying myself but I'm not comfortable with going any further than that today" He explained.

"So wait....are...are all three of you vampires?" Atsushi asked and Darric shook his head.

"No...I'm Darric Clay I run a combination antique and book store back in the States and I'm a Werewolf my boyfriend over there and Kunikida are the only Vampires here." Darric replied and Kenji got a starry-eyed look upon hearing that while Atsushi nodded a little in understanding.

"I'm sure we all have a lot of questions so why don't we all pull up a chair and talk somemore about this?" Dazai suggested and everyone nodded in agreement before they went to gather the office chairs and even Kenji went and brought over the couches so they could sit down and talk.

The talks went on up until the early hours of the afternoon with Anthony and Darric generously ordering lunch for everyone. They had also settled some pressing questions like if Kunikida had to go with Anthony and Darric back to the states (he didn't) or if Kunikida could still work for them (he could) and if Kunikida had to start drinking blood (which unfortunately yes he did but Yosano,Anthony and Kunikida all agreed to discuss what do about that at a later date). Once things were winding down and Yosano was able to give Kunikida a quick check up Kunikida was free to go home and Fukuzawa even gave him the rest of the week off to rest and recover. Fukuzawa even let Dazai go early as well So,After Kunikida said his fairwells for now to everyone in the office, a promise to keep in touch With Anthony and Darric,and after a quick visit to Katai to reassure him that Kunikida was back safe and sound. The two men started to head up to Kunikida's apartment.

There was a comfortable silence between the two as they got inside and headed to the blond's bedroom. Kunikida almost immediately flopped onto his bed and sighed in relief "you have no idea how good it feels to be home...." Kunikida muttered.

"I can only imagine~" Dazai said with a soft chuckle as he sat next to him on the bed "Welcome home Doppo...I know you've heard that a lot today but I wanted to say it personally..." he added with a soft smile on his face.

Kunikida looked up at the brunette and smiled softly as well "Thank you Dazai...I appreciate it" he replied and the two men spent the rest of their day resting and relaxing both deciding that they would deal with the fact Kunikida was now a vampire tomorrow.

The End.

------

And that's a wrap! I uhh I honestly only ment to make like bullet points or what have you but I apparently wanted to make a fic instead ^^; but thank you so so much for reading this if you made it this far!!! I honestly just made this for fun and I was legit writing the majority of this yesterday.

Please consider Vampire Kunikida

[hyperpsychomaniac]

So I was thinking about Erik Ahlberg getting off a little light at the end of the movie. Don't get me wrong, I think that the fact he changed his tune and let the trolls in counts for something. The best thing about this is Hilda never actually tells him that he should let the trolls in. She just warns him their mother is down there, and she's going to destroy the city if he attacks her children. After seeing his own mother, Erik realises for himself why they want to get in, how much of a jerk he's been to them, and he chooses to let them in so they can visit their mother. It's because of that I don't think he deserves to be absolutely hammered as bad as if he'd just carried on with his usual behaviour.

But... dude accepting that medal. I can't see him doing anything else, and it's hilarious but... he put the city in danger. It's out of sheer stupidity and protecting them was literally his entire job. So medal for protecting the city... nah really shouldn't have that.

However, I also think this is the sort of thing that whilst in the short term he seems to get off light, would actually have long term consequences. And, Hilda generally seems to be pretty good at letting its characters experience the natural (or at least ironic) consequences of their actions (see: Hilda getting caught out lying to her Mum, Victoria Van Gale flat out getting exiled to Nowhere Space after deliberately doing the same bad thing twice, Erik nearly getting crushed by a bell after messing with the wildlife and peoples jobs...)

So, whilst I'm not certain there will be a season 3, here are some repercussions I think would happen over the course of a season:

Avoiding positions of responsibility. Let's face it, Erik knows he's screwed up, and I think he might (maybe) be smart (or scared himself) enough that he's going to avoid this in his new job. Only he loves being responsible for people/in charge, so he's going to get bored

Having nightmares about Trolberg getting destroyed (seriously... he came SO CLOSE. People would have died.)

People fawning over him because you know, he's famous and congratulating him on his medal. To the point that it happens enough he starts to get embarrassed, and questions if he actually deserved it, mostly because all the things they compliment him on he knows aren't entirely true

People abusing him for changing his stance on the trolls and letting them into Trolberg. Basically throwing back at him all the crap he fed them when he was in charge of Safety Patrol

That one kid who's too young/excitable to understand why he got a medal. And thinks its because he killed a massive troll and tells him how cool he is for doing so

Questioning whether he needed to kill Trundle. Who, despite being a pretty dangerous dude, may have stopped wanting to destroy the city once he got what he wanted. Which was to see his mother. Knowing if he'd listened to Hilda (AND Gerda) in the first place, he might have never done this

Running into Hilda awkwardly and knowing he should apologise/thank her. But this not quite happening because he still has that ego

Trying to throw his medal away into the harbour. But it gets fished out and is super recognisable so people innocently return it to him. This happening at multiple locations within the city/more than once

He's got poor judgement, and that's not going to change overnight just because he scared himself. So something like him heading out to the wilderness (maybe to pitch that pesky medal) and getting himself into trouble. Putting Safety Patrol in the position where they have to go rescue him and waste time/resources/put people in danger. Gerda absolutely losing it at him for doing so, and yelling at him for being so reckless and making her job hard. She's not just talking about this incident.

Trundle probably had mates who aren't too happy about him getting killed. Who were probably on those front lines and would recognise Erik if he found himself out alone in the wilderness at night

And okay, so I hope this would actually result in character development for him. And him humbling himself to thank Hilda. But... yeah... I don't think he's got off as easy it seems.