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coffeestainsandcashmere · 4 years

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Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - (older Dramione) Part Five

I hope you enjoy this one! It features a surprise snooty owl (I wonder who could own such a creature???) and some well-meaning concern from a friend. And some banter. And an expensive lunch. Because Theo is extra and can’t help himself. And it’s 4.6k words long...

I also realised that, since I wrote the first chapter basically out of the blue and not really intending for it to blow up into a big multi-part story, I’ve messed up the timeline a little with Harry’s kids, so I’ll have to go back and fix that when it comes to a re-edit before it goes up on AO3, but for now, just handwave it, ok? :)

Finally, many thanks for your lovely owls, anonymous or otherwise, about this story and where it’s going! I was honestly floored by the feedback I’ve got, and thank you to those who’ve reblogged it and helped get it out there for folks to read. I have a very small following since this side-blog is fairly new, so all reblogs are very much appreciated. I did a quick doodle for the cover of the story which you can find here, if you’re interested in how I pictured Draco and Scorpius standing in the steam from the Hogwarts Express from chapter one.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

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Far earlier on Monday morning than she was accustomed to these days, Hermione woke with a start and frowned, confused. Eyes dry and prickly, and hair absolutely everywhere, she sat up and looked around, straining her ears as she blearily tried to work out what had yanked her so unceremoniously from a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep. Her Muggle alarm clock silently showed 05:54 in harsh red numbers, and nothing had touched the wards or tried to get in, though there was something thrumming against them, like the lingering reverberations of a plucked harp string.

The temporary stillness was shattered when a wild scrabbling of claws and the beating of enormous wings started up against her bedroom window. With a flailing shriek of surprise, she nearly fell out of bed, but after taking a deep breath, she stumbled out from under the covers to wrench the curtains open.

“Bloody owls!” she began, but drew up short when she saw the unfamiliar bird waiting impatiently on the other side of the glass.

There, battering its truly monstrous talons against the glass, was a colossal eagle owl. When it saw her, it stopped its fussing to perch haughtily on the brick windowsill outside and fix her with a fiery red glare. If owls could have raised their eyebrows, she got the impression that this one would have done it at the sight of her.

“Yeah, well, it’s early. What did you expect?” she groused as she slid the window panel to one side and the bird looked around her bedroom with obvious disdain. Imperiously, it stuck out one leg, like a noble expecting a servant to remove a dirty boot, and she saw a rolled-up piece of parchment with a green wax seal and a green ribbon to bind it together.

“Who do you belong to then?” she asked, going automatically to stroke the bird’s flight-ruffled chest plumage. It instantly hissed and nipped at her fingers, and she barely drew them back in time. “Christ! No need for that,” she gasped. She’d never met a postal owl as cantankerous as this one. “I usually give visiting owls a treat, but I don't think I like your manners one bit.”

With the letter in hand, she slid the window closed again, leaving a gap just small enough that the bird wasn’t going to barge its way in. She wondered if it had been instructed to wait for an answer because it began almost immediately clicking its beak against the glass and hooting indignantly.

“Manners makyth bird,” she snapped without looking up, and broke the unfamiliar wax seal on the letter.

It had a cursive ‘M’ within a circle, but was otherwise unadorned. Unfurling it, she glanced at the name on the bottom and her eyebrows rose as her growing suspicions were confirmed. It was signed in a princely English roundhand by none other than Draco Malfoy.

She snorted, glancing back at the bird who was doing its best basilisk impression from the other side of the glass. “Who else would have such a snotty owl?”

It hooted childishly at her again and she laughed.

Dear Hermione,

I must beg of you to forgive the unspeakably rude hour of this correspondence, but I am leaving this morning for France by portkey for a couple of days and I had hoped to get your answer before I left. I should add now before you read any further — although with your kind heart I fear it may be too late already — that Cassiopeia here is not fond of physical affection, but is very partial to owl treats. She can be bribed into doing almost anything for food, but affection is sadly not in her nature, so please be careful with your fingers around her beak. The only reason I was able to get her to fly at all at this time of the day was to bribe her lavishly. She’s terribly spoilt, and for that, I’m sorry too.

Hermione shot another look at the bird, who narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Cassiopeia, eh?” she said and the enormous owl bobbed a few times. “Prideful about your good looks then, are you? You should know how your namesake’s story ended then. But, I suppose you could be forgiven since you are an inordinately pretty bird. You’ll still not get a crumb from me after trying to take my fingers off though. I’ll be having words with Malfoy about that.”

Cassiopeia ruffled her feathers and promptly turned her back on Hermione. The bird didn’t take off, so she returned her attention to the letter.

I spent all weekend thinking about our evening together on Friday, but it will come as little surprise to you to learn that it has taken me all that time to muster up my limited courage to ask you to dinner at your next convenience. Naturally, I left it to the last possible moment to ask you. I have a place in mind in London, but it’s a little more out of the way than the restaurants on Diagon Alley. I have it on authority from the owner that you have never been there, and I would very much like to surprise you, but if you would feel more comfortable knowing in advance, then you can ask Theo while I am out of the country.

Staggered, Hermione stared at the letter and found her vision swimming a little. Blinking, she was shocked to find tears blurring his formal — almost painfully formal — words.

But how long had it been since anyone had actually asked her on a date? ‘Too intimidating’, ‘too boring’, ‘too work-orientated’, ‘too bossy’, ‘too driven’ were all things she’d heard at one point or another, and admittedly many of them from Ron.

Thirty seven wasn’t even old - especially by magical standards - but she didn’t exactly have the same bright-eyed charms as someone like, say, Lavender did anymore. Hard work, and a draining marriage seemed to have sapped much of the youth and vigour from her. And, if she were honest, being replaced by someone supposedly ‘more attractive’ had damaged her more deeply than she cared to admit, even to herself. There were certainly days when she felt like a washed-up, burnt-out, dowdy old matron. She had crashed out of a sparkling career in the Ministry to run a scruffy old second-hand bookshop next to the newly-refurbished Florian Fortescue’s ice cream parlour.

“Why are you even bothering, Malfoy?” she murmured aloud as she stared blankly at the letter in her hands. With looks like his — and a groaning Gringotts’ account if the rumours were to be believed, not that that mattered a jot to Hermione — he could probably have had almost any witch he wanted, his past and reclusive behaviour be damned. And yet he was asking her to dinner after having only met twice since they turned eighteen? Three times, she supposed if she included that brief encounter at the Ministry on the night of the attack.

Perhaps he was lonely just wanted the company. Perhaps she was just… convenient; a chump with a soft spot for outcasts…

Before she let herself go too far down that unsavoury rabbit hole, she forced herself to read on, heart pounding. Outside on the windowsill, the owl had gone very still, watching her with curious, orange eyes.

Please feel free to send Cassiopeia back with your response either way. I hope I have not overstepped or misread how things are between us now, especially given our history, but I find my thoughts returning over and over to our evening, and to that surprise lunch on the 1st of September. I’m not sure what I had expected when you asked me to join you that day, but I certainly hadn’t expected to enjoy myself as much as I did. In the years since I became Scorpius’ sole guardian, I have not sought the company of others, nor have I particularly enjoyed it when it has been inflicted upon me, but those two occasions spent with you have drawn me out of myself. You truly are a remarkable witch, and I’m more moved and honoured than I can express that you have given me even this much of your precious time already.

Before I begin to ramble too freely, I think I must sign off here.

Yours,

D.M.

P.S. Scorpius did write to me in the end. He has a detention already, and Potter’s youngest is also involved somehow… I will get more details from him anon, and no doubt a letter from McGonagall in due course.

For a long time, Hermione stood in her bedroom, with her hair in a wild halo around her head and her scruffy old pyjamas hanging low on her hips, just staring at his signature.

When Draco’s owl began to fidget and fuss again, she sighed and looked up. “Sit tight,” she breathed. “I’m going to get a piece of paper and if you keep quiet, I might bring an owl treat with me when I come back, ok?”

Cassiopeia narrowed her eyes and ducked her head suspiciously, but remained put on the windowsill, so she took that as a ‘yes’ and disappeared into her tiny study.

Grabbing a biro from the chipped mug that served as a pen and quill pot, and tearing a sheaf of paper from a muggle notebook, she scrawled a note back to him.

With that done, and before she could talk herself out of what she had just accepted, she returned to his owl with a treat. The bird mobbed her for it instantly, but Hermione scowled at her, snatched her hand back, and barked, “Wait! My goodness, you are spoilt. Let me attach this first, and if I manage it without you drawing blood or otherwise maiming me, not only will it be a flipping miracle, but you’ll get your sodding treat, alright?”

The bird went still with a tiny shuffle of her wings, and stuck out her leg.

“Thank you,” Hermione said tartly.

Cassiopeia took off with her note attached by the same green ribbon and secured with a basic sticking charm. The downdraft from her departure sent bits of accumulated detritus from the window ledge spiralling up into Hermione’s face, but she coughed and blinked, and watched the bird soar way up into the sky. The receding dot of her silhouette banked west, out of sight and in the eventual direction of Wiltshire and Malfoy Manor.

Malfoy Manor.

She’d hardly given the place any thought since that fateful night ten or so years ago when Malfoy had been attacked, a whole wing had been burned to the ground, and Scorpius had nearly been killed. They’d never said in the papers who had done it, and the Auror Office had been distinctly tight-lipped about it. Not that she’d really bothered to find out more, if she were honest. Once Malfoy’s little yowling mandrake had left her office in his father’s arms, she had been almost instantly reabsorbed with her own caseload, and Harry had never mentioned the outcome of the investigation to her. A twinge of gilt shot through her but she pushed it down. It was hardly a topic for dinnertime conversation either, so she doubted she’d find out immediately.

She thought vaguely about clambering back into bed, but since she was up, she headed to the kitchen and put the kettle on for a cup of tea. It had been a while since she’d been up before dawn, and she had some paperwork to do anyway.

Cassiopeia’s appearance was not the only unusual thing to happen to her that day. She had no visitors to the shop at all for the entire morning, but when the brass bell above the door did finally chime, she looked up from the desk at the back of the shop to find Theo striding in.

“Hi, love,” he grinned, stepping deer-like over the stack of recent arrivals beside the counter and stooping to hug her where she sat. “Lunch. You and me. Now.”

“Theo, I have a shop to run,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t just… leave. Besides, I brought sandwiches.”

“I will literally pay you the price of an entire chest of first editions to spend the next few hours in my company if things are that tight. Or I could just… buy you an entire chest of first editions,” he said, adding with his most dangerous puppy-dog eyes, “Seriously, please come to lunch with me?”

She flicked her wrist and the ‘open’ sign hanging in the glass-panelled door flipped over to ‘closed’. “I’m not accepting your money, Theo. What’s the occasion?”

He twitched slightly and then flashed her a grin; a combination that made her instantly wary. “Does a gentleman need ‘an occasion’ to ask a beautiful lady to lunch?” he asked, his brown eyes wide with feigned innocence.

Hermione slowly raised one eyebrow. “You’re gay. And happily married. And that’s a terrible line. Try again.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t take my very best friend out,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

Something was definitely up.

“Draco Malfoy is, and always has been, your very best friend in all the world. Try again.”

“You,” he said, actually growling the word this time with comical frustration, “Are one very persistent witch.”

“Mmhmm. How do you think I made it to Minister by twenty-seven, darling,” she grinned, still without getting up from her chair. “Last chance or I turn that sign around and forcibly evict you from my shop.”

Theo whipped his wand out from his inner jacket pocket like he was in a duel, and apparently vanished the offending sign from the door altogether. “There. Your threats are empty. Come to lunch with me.”

“Theodore Nott, you return my sign this instant.”

“Say you’ll come to lunch with me, and the sign goes back up.”

“I will not be threatened in my own shop!” she laughed, arms folding across her chest like a petulant child. “Put it back. Now.”

“Say you’ll come with me,” he said with a wide, playful grin, planting his hands on the counter and leaning his long frame forwards.

She had to bite her lips to stop from giggling. The charming scoundrel knew she’d say yes anyway. “I’ll tell Dan you were bullying me,” she said.

“Tell him; he’ll never believe you. He thinks I’m lovely. Come on, Hermione,” he added, softening from playful to plaintive. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“You and my ‘very best friend in all the world’, that’s what,” he said, and levelled her with a flat stare.

Her stomach dropped and she remembered the letter from that morning. And its contents. ‘…if you would feel more comfortable knowing, then you can ask Theo while I am gone’ Draco had said. He’d spoken with Theo about asking her out. She didn't know whether to be honoured or embarrassed.

Seeing her expression slip, Theo came round the side of the counter to stand beside her and leaned his hips against the wooden desk. “So you like him?”

“I… Why would that be a surprise?”

Theo blinked, and then his gaze flickered down to her left forearm. Everyone knew about the word engraved into her skin with the point of a cursed knife — she’d never tried to conceal it — but not many knew the real truth of just how the slur had come to be carved indelibly into her flesh. Theo was one of the few who did. “You’re really asking me why I’m surprised you like him?” he said in a hoarse whisper. “You, of all people?”

She took a very deep breath, held it, and then sighed. “Let’s go. You’re paying though. And I’m drinking.”

He managed a shy smile, and as they approached the front door of her shop his shimmering illusion around the sign dissolved to reveal it once again.

“Cheeky bugger,” she smirked at him and he waggled his eyebrows disarmingly. An undercurrent of anxiety still lurked beneath his jovial expression though.

A number of new restaurants had opened up in Diagon Alley, but Theo’s and Dan’s favourite was a sleek, modern establishment, quite different from the fusty old decor of the Leaky Cauldron or the other more traditional restaurants in wizarding London. It also sat overlooking the crooked columns of Gringotts, and was eye-wateringly expensive. Naturally, Theo was greeted by name at the door, and the pair were shown without fuss or fanfare to one of the nicest — and most secluded — tables.

With food ordered, and enormous balloon-glasses of wine in front of them, Theo fixed her with a serious look and steered the conversation around to the real reason for his impromptu lunchtime kidnapping. “He finally grew a pair and asked you to dinner then?”

“Mmm,” she nodded. “I take it this is… unusual for him?”

Theo tipped his head back and chuckled softly, sounding more tired than amused. “That’s putting it mildly, love. Until Friday, I had the devil’s own job trying to get dear Draco to leave his gloomy little manor house and come to anything. I had to blackmail him into coming to our anniversary, you know?”

Hermione just frowned, not entirely sure if he was being serious or not.

Theo let out a slow breath and stared into his wineglass, idly twirling the stem between long fingers. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said without looking at her, “I’m beyond grateful that he finally seems to be opening up to the idea of… being somewhat… vulnerable again, but…”

“You’re worried I’m going to hurt him,” she said quietly, and Theo bowed his head. “Theo, I’m… You know me. This isn’t just some one night stand with a rich, attractive bloke I met in a bar. I haven’t —” she leaned in close over the table and hissed, “I haven’t even had sex with anyone in years, Theo. Years!” She brushed an errant corkscrew of hair back out of her eyes, embarrassed.

His lips twitched at that, but his eyes remained stormy.

“I’m not going into this lightly. I was honestly as surprised as you are, but I wouldn’t even be considering going on a date with Draco Malfoy if I wasn’t completely convinced that he was no longer the bratty little owl-pellet he was back at Hogwarts.”

At that, Theo barked such a loud laugh that the patrons at the tables nearby turned to look at him like he’d sworn in a church. He covered his mouth with his hand and snickered himself into silent tears for a good thirty seconds before she rolled her eyes and sat back with her glass in her hand, waiting for him to control himself again.

“I’m telling Dan you called him that. And Pansy. They’ll love it.”

“Right,” she said, cheeks suddenly hot. “Well, as much as he might have been an owl pellet, let’s not have it become a ‘thing’, hmm?”

The mirth in his face simmered back down and he looked at her steadily over the rim of his wineglass. “Look, I care about both of you, and I can see this going two ways. One: you realise that the two of you actually have an awful lot in common, he takes you to increasingly fancy places for dates, you have lots of steamy sex, and finally settle down together. Two: the past gets in the way, you both say hurtful stuff you don’t really mean, and you both end up single and twice as miserable as you were before you went for lunch at the Leaky. Don't think I didn’t know about that, either,” he added.

“You’re such a gossip,” she snapped.

“I was being serious, Hermione,” he said, leaning to one side as their food arrived.

She paused until the waiter had left but didn’t make any move to pick up her cutlery. “Are you looking out for him or for me?” she asked.

Theo sighed. “Both of you. But…”

“Mostly Draco, huh?”

“He’s like a brother to me, Hermione. He was there for me when no one else was. You know the things my father did to me as a child, and Draco helped me through all of it. And ‘Cissa too. And I couldn’t believe it when he actually showed up at drinks the other night. Watching him, it… it was like the old Draco had come back to me. The nice ‘old Draco’, I mean.” His eyes glistened and he blinked rapidly, voice cracking as he continued. “After the attack, he shut himself away at the Manor with Scorpius, as if he could keep the whole world out just to keep little Scorp safe. I thought… I thought he’d never leave, Hermione.”

“You never talked about any of this,” she said gently, forcing herself to make a start on her linguine despite the fact that her appetite had vanished almost completely.

Theo shrugged. “I guess… I guess I wanted to give him the privacy he craved, and to be honest, I didn’t think you’d be all that sympathetic to him after your history.”

At that, she scowled, but she could see his point. “Theo, I held his screaming infant in my arms for hours while he was being questioned by the Aurors that night. I saw his face when he came to my office for Scorpius afterwards.” She shook her head. “No one who saw him then could believe he was even a shadow of the person he had been at Hogwarts.”

At her words, Theo had stopped eating, fork held loosely between perpetually-ink-stained fingers even as it rested on his plate. “You did? He never said.”

She tried not to examine that last comment too closely. “Mm. Harry didn't know what else to do with him, so he brought Scorpius to me to see if I could quieten him down. In the end all it took was a handful of my hair and a few poorly-sung folk songs. But you’re missing the point, Theo. You could have trusted me with things that were worrying you. I would have listened to you.”

“I —” he cut off and cleared his throat. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… Aside from Dan, I don’t think I love anyone as much as I love him.”

It was Hermione’s turn to choke up a little, but she swallowed and said, “Then I can think of no greater accolade for his character.” She looked up at him and added, “So where’s he taking me then?”

“You said yes?”

“I did. I like him. And not just because he looks like a flipping marble statue brought to life. He’s thoughtful, and he always was extremely intelligent and articulate. I’ve really enjoyed talking with him this time around. I think… I think…” she pursed her lips and took a too-big gulp of wine. Luckily it all went down the right way, and she forged on. “I think… we could work. Or at least… I want to see where it goes, Theo.”

With a slow nod, Theo finally relaxed his shoulders and let out a shaky breath. “He wants to take you to The Foundry.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” she mumbled. It wasn’t one of the ones in Diagon Alley, for sure.

Theo made a side-to-side movement of his head. “I’m not surprised. It’s…”

“Oh God, is it horrifically expensive?” she asked, eyes wide with a sudden abject terror. “Theo, if he’s going to take me somewhere hideously fancy for our first date, I’m going to back out right now…”

The corners of his lips lifted and he shook his head. “Not in the way you’re thinking. You have to know the owners to get a table though, and there are no menus. They’ll ask if you have any allergies, but other than that, you eat what they serve you.”

“Holy fuck, Theo…”

“Trust me, you’ll love it. The place used to be a bell foundry in the seventeenth century — hence the name — and it’s this gorgeous brick building with arches and vaults, and cosy little corners,” he added, raising his eyebrows. “You’ll forget where you are and be as comfortable as if you were in your own pokey little Muggle living room. I promise.”

She narrowed her eyes and took another gulp of wine. “I’ll take your word for it, Nott,” she said. “What should I wear?”

Without hesitation, he said, “That burgundy number you haven’t worn since Pansy told you to buy it.”

She blanched at that. “Theo, it’s…”

“Gorgeous? Revealing in all the right ways, yet modest enough to suit you? Dead sexy? Exactly the kind of thing that will make Draco lose his goddamn mind when he sees you in it? The kind of thing that will make him spend all evening simultaneously admiring you in it and mentally tearing it off you —”

“Theo, stop!” she hissed, flushing darker. “For God’s sake shut up!”

He cackled into the remainder of his wine, but refused to give any more sartorial advice.

“Burgundy dress and heels it is, I guess,” she said, and the two of them focused on their food again.

“I hope,” Theo said as they left a very leisurely two hours later, “I hope you don’t think I was too…” he jiggled nervously on the balls of his feet as he held the door open for her, “Overbearing…”

“I mean, you did ambush me, blackmail and threaten me into having lunch with you at the fanciest restaurant in Diagon Alley where I couldn’t reasonably kick up a fuss, and then proceed to tell me all sorts of heartrending stories about Draco and yourself…”

When she saw the wounded look in Theo’s brown eyes, she stopped and turned to face him.

“Theo, no. You’re one of my best friends, and you clearly care about us both. Stop panicking,” she added when she saw the slightly wild light in his eyes. “You didn’t try to tell me what to do or who to see. You’re looking out for your friends, and making sure we’re both… serious about this. And I appreciate that.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and added, “But know that if you keep meddling beyond that, I will hex your bollocks off and make you explain it to Dan.”

“Understood,” he said with a watery smile. “I was worried I’d overstepped.”

“I’ll forgive you if you tell me one thing.”

“Name it.”

“Did you have the same talk with Draco about breaking my heart?”

His handsome, freckled face split into a blinding white grin. “I did.”

“Forgiven,” she said. “Now, some of us actually have to work for a living.”

“I work!” he squealed. “I work bloody hard up in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, thank you very much!”

“I know you do,” she conceded. “Not that you actually need a job, you filthy rich prick.”

Theo laughed long and loud, scooping her hand up in his and walking arm in arm down the bustling, cobbled street towards her bookshop. “And to think,” he chimed with a sidelong look down at her, “You used to be Minister for Magic with that mouth.”

“I know,” she said. “It nearly got me into trouble on many an occasion.”

Kneazel and Quill’s little sign swung jauntily in the breeze and Theo gave a slight bow from the waist when they stopped at the door. With anyone else, it might have seemed foppish and insincere, but with Theo, she knew he meant it. He was only silly like this with his closest friends.

“Good day, fair maiden of the dusty bookshop,” he said. “And thank you for giving my idiot best friend a chance.”

Hermione nodded and smiled. She stood and soaked up the autumn sunshine for a while as she watched his retreating back, until he eventually disappeared into the Diagon Alley entrance to the Ministry and she slid back into the musty quiet of her little sanctuary.

Chapter Six

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Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter of friendship! Next time, Hermione and Draco go for that date...!! Things will start to gain momentum too, fear not. It’s not going to be an eternal slow-burn...

writing masterlist | Ao3

#dramione #dramione fic #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger x draco malfoy #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #theodore nott #hermione granger #let no man steal your thyme

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lordxgrinnyxboy · 4 years

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rewatching tgm for the umpteenth time: wifi's not working edition 1/?

ngl i've Never, In My LIFE, done any singing or acting outside of puppet shows when i was in like the 3rd grade but every time i watch TGM i'm more and more like "GOD i wanna be cast as Barkilphedro" and i don't even know why? like why would i want to be the greasy clown nasty? He has No Rights? I Don't Like Him Or Sympathize With Him At All? And Yet???? It must be a calling.

there's like. two barrels on the stage.

uggggggh i love Ensemble!Maskell and Ensemble!Obianyo they're both so pretty

FEEL SO LOW YOUR PULSE NEEDS CHECKING

ngl Barkilphedro has No Rights and he gets No Sympathy from me but i do feel sorry for him when he talks about his mother. also sucks for him that he wasted so much time hoping his loyalty to Clarence would pay off, only to get nothing but mockery in return. also also as 'comical' as the Erotic Breakfast Dance scene is played it's still...really gross and Not Okay. This dude's 100% culpable for his actions and he made his own choices and is absolutely slimy but it's like those bits in LotR when they talk about Bilbo pitying Gollum. idk i just kinda hate that ol' Barky let himself be twisted into such a wretched creature. He crossed the No Rights line the night he decided to carve up a kid's face tho and just kept right on going.

ensemble!maskell is so cute send help

it's the eye makeup and the lighting it's just. a really good look

ms. obianyo pls

just noticed Bark's little pose on "obsessed with the pursuit of beauty"

okay so i've seen some comments around about Clarence's "How do you keep your pecker up" remark and just thought i'd- dude's fingernails. wow they're so shiny. ahem -mention here that i've looked into this expression before and it's actually a term that i guess is mainly used in England or something and it's like nose = beak = 'pecker' as in birds which ‘peck’ things with their beaks. It's basically the same as "keep your chin up". Snufkin says it to Moomin. I mean with Clarence i wouldn't put it past him to mean it another way but also given where the show is set it makes sense he would use such a term.

ngl i want to Know about Angelica tho like. why is she Brutalized. why did Clarence send her awaey. i actually want to know about the whole family. I feel like it's a three separate moms situation but even if it's only two separate moms Where Are The Moms. did Clarence send Them awaey too? Did one or more of them Die? Were they Killed? oh god what if it's like in Light Princess and he actually Had (one of/)Them Executed. I think it's interesting that Clarence Lorded Dirry-Moir. we don't get to know about how he treated Josiana, but none of his kids even turn up to his funeral and the only one who talks about him at all only does so to denounce him.

also thinking about the differences yet similarities between the Green Box Family and the Royal Family but i can't articulate worth anything rn so i'll just *pins for later*

love Ensemble!Brisson

also ngl even if the whole Royal Introduction/Lords on Palace Hill bit isn't 100% literal it still paints a pretty clear picture of the kind of toxic and vapid society that's encouraged under Clarence's reign.

does 'bonnie prince' mean anything specific or

ugh i love Osric

wait i just noticed the stripies on dirry--moir's shirt. nice. i'd wear that.

not as much as i'd wear the heck out of Osric's coat though. actually his whole outfit. add Osric/Lord Trelaw to Roles I Wanna Be Cast For In The Timeline Where I Sing And Act

the face Dirry-Moir makes while Osric's getting started introducing the fair tho. he looks like a kid trying to fit in with a cool new friend group.

the way Mr Maskell sings "we have a huge collection of the crippled and the dabbed" tho it sounds like he's got a cold

i'm gonna need somebody to meet me irl just to do that lil dance that Dirry-Moir and Osric do after "If you've got the money/I've got the misery" it looks fun!

au where Mr. Maskell stays on stage through the end of Laughter is the Beast Medicine. i need to See him do the choreo for this part.

had a real cursed idea right here but no it's Too cursed

the look on Osric's face when Bark grabs his bad arm tho

this whole "imagine laughing without any cruelty at all" is such a weird bit tbh

have i already said that i love the whole look of the "the poor soul who stands before you" part like idk if it's the pose or what but Gwyn Looks Really Good In This Scene

okay but the way puppet!Gwyn holds out his hand toward his mom and then she goes to- hangon i can’t describe lemme see if separate post separate post

okay

ngl im real curious as to whether this bit on the pirate ship (idk why i’ve always defaulted to ‘pirates’ for these cats) actually happened or if Ursus fully made it up like we really Don’t get to Know how much of this has any basis in what really happened that night do we u-u

kay but the fact that Dea’s mom’s lying there with her eyes open and the way they emphasize her frozen-ness by having her arm stay up like. wow.

wait a minute is that Born Broken playing for lil baby Dea? i think it is.

yeah sing it hazlit

interesting how Ursus has little!Gwyn sing “they put blood in my nightmares” but also vow to find the man who cut him. which i mean singular ‘they’ is obviously a thing but as i doubt the intention was for Gwyn to have decided that whoever cut him must be a they/them man i just think it’s interesting that even the wording in the puppet show points to the fact that there was Someone Else There, even if it does then swerve back to a single perpetrator. But also it’s still accurate because while it was only one man who cut Gwyn’s face, it was both Barkilphedro and Ursus who contributed to putting blood in his nightmares.

honest question why is Mr. Maskell’s voice Like That like who gave him the right

love how puppet!Gwyn and puppeteer!Gwyn and later real!Gwyn all do that same little motion with their head on the word “disgrace”

OH HEY we’re at the part where Lon Don picks up NICE

add Mojo Puppeteer to my list of dream roles

wait ohmygod there’s this thing kind of hanging off the cart and i was squinting at it like “what is that” and then the cart turned around and i realize that’s the body that goes to the head-on-a-shelf ursus what the hell

wait so Dirry-Moir genuinely thinks Dea went blind from looking at Gwyn’s face but he also wants to see it? although granted Ursus said she went blind from “gazing too long” so maybe Dirry-Moir assumes he’ll be safe if it’s only a quick look. still. Concept: Post-Show Dirry-Moir having this tendency to Not Look At Gwyn very much until eventually either he explains why and somebody has to Tell Him, or maybe at some point he’s like “wait a minute. that was made up wasn’t it” and everyone has a bit of a laff

ngl i love the inside of the cart and how there’s like four, maybe five puppets, counting Beauty and Beast, and also some of the shadow puppets...all kinds of vials and bottles and what looks like painting supplies...what looks suspiciously like crimson lethe on the stove...looks like some cabinets and extra storage up very top. im curious about the layout since we only get to see one part of the cart at a time.

wait why’s the song called stars in the sky when does he say th- why isn’t it called “New World” or “dreams” or something why stars in the sky he doesn’t even say- does he say it in the reprise??? *skips ahead* NO?

does the Disney Chorus Say It??

THEY DON’T

WHY IS THE SONG CALLED STARS IN THE SKY? WHY HAVE I BEEN UNQUESTIONINGLY CALLING IT STARS IN THE- WHEN ARE STARS MENTIONED??

IS THE TITLE A REFERENCE TO THE FACT THAT URSUS IS ONE OF THE ONES WHO ASSISTED IN STRIPPING STARS FROM THE SKY? IDK BOSS IT FEELS KINDA WEAK TO ME

ugh i love ms obianyo

“to help them forget themselves” yeah that’s what you want him to do huh Ursus

“not now, Grinpayne”‘s a p curious line to include and only the fact that Gwyn’s still using his puppet!Gwyn voice while complaining is keeping me from being like “lol Gwyn’s lil rant was actually him breaking character and then Ursus just went with it like it was part of the show lol lol”

cutting here for length uwu Dea finishes the word ‘skies’ at exactly 30 minutes in which is nice bc i didn’t even have to interrupt her mid-word in order to pause for post-length.

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clad-in-sunshine · 4 years

Audio

[ID: A picture of my character, Mey. The left half is a woman with long hair and a neutral expression drawn in pencil. Her right side is split into three rectangular blocks that are bolder, drawn with pen, showing the right side of animals: the first is a lion; the second an owl; and the third a wolf. Around them are hawthorn flowers. End ID]

[ID: A drawing of my character Fearn. On the left side a fern, and on the right of it emerges the right side of a cat's face. From the side of that are three profiles, getting darker, and moving towards a more human shape.]

[ID: A digitally sketched outline of a woman in white lines. She's smiling a little, has long hair, and is holding a bow. Behind her is a photograph of a sunset. End ID]

My friend, @shaheenarnitipsyart (Instagram link here) drew all this incredible art of my OCs from a narrative poem I wrote just under a year ago. I plan to write more about them, but for now I’ve edited and rewritten bits of the poem itself, to improve on it. It’s fun noticing where I’ve improved. Also thought to record myself reading it, for accessibility.

Wandering Kind

Ellen, she was a wandering kind her spirit aching to be freed from duties that would her confine and now, she thought she’d found the key

So she journeyed, through the trees to the dwelling of a faerie gay Who could set her from her duties free that she might travel the world, away

Into the dark, she raced ahead over leaves that snapped like jaws The plants they swiped her as she fled, gripping tight to her chestnut horse

Eventually she came unto a twisted house: abandoned, torn Yet a sign of life - it lay in view: a fishing line that clothes adorned

Rolling fog around her drew; all sound banished from the night Thoughts, it seemed, were muffled too, then a figure bounded into sight

It landed softly on the ground - a lithe young cat; then bigger still until as a bear it turned around Its eyes were heavy, anger filled

From its mouth a voice did roar: Cracked the air with every word “How come you to my front door? “Are you here, by hatred stirred?”

Boldly then young Ellen moved; from reeling horse did swiftly leap “Fear not, by me you are not loathed- I met one who does your secrets keep

“He told me an exchange to make: for they would have me married be - to one whom I ne'r love nor like, but with your help, that I might flee”

The bear stepped back; it lifted high ‘til on it’s own hind quarters held Then ‘tween two breaths he gave a sigh; him now a man: the bear dispelled

A solid face like oaken bark, and hair like weeping willow worn Upon his chest he bore a mark like a bow; string tightly drawn

He turned and pulled some linen down, wrapping ‘round his torso bare Without a tie or buckle bound, holding tight as he stepped near

“You know my Jack?” he asked of her “then a friend to you I’ll surely be, but I don’t see him with you here, did he not guide you to me?”

His voice rang out as if a song: it danced and moved the air between, to fall then gently, ears upon, warmer than the sun at e'en

Warmed, she took from her waistband: a letter writ from Jack to him She pressed it in the faerie’s hand and his face did soften then

Once he’d read, with gentle eyes he smiled, then broader to a grin “To help you out I can devise, a plan of sorts, but then again -

"I can’t control those human whims such as to wish you to be wed Unless you ask a task so grim: I’ll hunt them down and leave them dead.”

But Ellen asked a different thing, and happily he would comply But to kill the Faerie king - he charged her then, at least to try

Then from his chest the mark he pulled and like a shadow so it formed 'til it could manifest so bold: A wooden bow of body born

She took the wondrous bow in hand and on her fell a strange unease. It seemed to shift, and move around, despite the absence of a breeze

He gave no arrows with the bow, and before she could breathe her thought he reached behind him, bending low and from his back a quiver brought

“This bow of mine is strong and true; the arrows made from mine own heart And when the arrow pierces through, my heart, through his, shall play its part

"You should not afear his wrath, though he can strike a mighty blow If you eat nought along your path - his power wanes, and yours will grow”

It’s then her fingers to her lips, and she aloud did whistle high To her side her horse came thus and she mounted up, away to ride

The bow behind her led the way 'Twas as the faerie by her side And there was nought led her astray ‘til beyond the woods the tower spied

But before the tower was a town: the dwellings there both strange and quaint A sumptuous feast spread out around, and at her heart clawed hunger, want

The bow it morphed to fiddle fine, and with a song it graced the air It sang of trees and summertime; of fae folk joined in mirth and cheer

Then in song did Ellen join as so she went, the food untouched The singing kept her spirit warmed: her fortitude remained unmatched

Then at the tower’s base did stand and from her travelling pack she took, some rope, as woven by her hand; turned her head to upwards look

The tower dwarfed her, tall and dark, bleak though sunlight drenched the stone Below it, Ellen surveyed her task before the fortress, stood alone

Then from the quiver an arrow brought which to the rope she firmly tied And the looming tower, she feared it not, despite the king that lay inside

The bow she raised, and arrow drew: Pulled tight and strong before she loosed And through the air the arrow flew; like a dragonfly, the window chased

It whirled and spun, cut through the air until its destination found It turned and lodged in firmly there: rope hung and swayed above the ground

Then Ellen in her hands did hold the rope that waved before her face And forcefully, with courage bold she tugged it thrice; it held its place

“Wait here, friend” she bid her horse as she upon the tower stepped Began her climb with barest pause- in hand the rope so tightly gripped

Hand and foot were moved with ease She made her way, 'til with a start a bird did fly out from the trees: It dived at her, her hands to part

Then suddenly, without a sound the bow it stretched from on her back it spread and curved out, all around, ‘til the bird’s own snapping beak did break

The bird repelled, she did resume shoulders straining with the force And soon she climbed into a room more comfortable than her own house

All around were colours bright Blinding 'gainst the darker stone She noticed then, within her sight a forlorn figure: curled; alone

“That’s my brother’s bow you bear, have you been sent to set me free? I feared that he had left me here, it’s been so long since him I’ve seen.”

Her voice it murmured, barely reached to fall upon young Ellen’s ears Yet a familiar pattern to her speech, it brought Elinor’s eyes to tears

For where the brother’s voice was warm Hers it strained, retreated, fell She found she reached out with her arms, and this young woman within them held.

A careful moment passed, then two. and leaning back, she spoke betwixt “Your brother’s quest led me to you: I must slay the king, my life to fix”

Reaching hands caressed the bow; and a smile to her face was brought “Come quick, the king lies down below but first to beat him - here’s a thought.

"A curse 'pon me, in prison high that I should ne'er my powers see But if we go where the spell does lie, from aching binds I might be freed”

The bow drawn back; the door then struck It splintered, cracked and fell with ease Through they stepped, and down did look- a dreary light; an upwards breeze

The two then turned; ahead they crept - as fast as foot could fall, step, by step, by step, by step, ‘til they stood before a door.

Ellen turned the handle then thrust it open, and she saw. A room. Far darker than she’d seen before.

There lay a light, all in the centre: the smallest glow, bathed in the black Says the girl “this place, I cannot enter, You must traverse it for my sake”

So striding forward, Ellen went the darkness all around her sealed The air was heavy, burned and bent and twisted all that she did feel.

Until the glowing light did reach her body barely brought her breath but then she moved - the glow to breach and with her blade she broke it. Swift.

From the shards erupted out a spectral shape, then winding through Until the doorway it did meet Unto the sister, shadow flew.

It entered there upon her brow, stained and stirred her unmarred head and from that point a shape did grow till her form into the air it bled

It coalesced 'fore Ellen’s eyes Gathered to an unknown shape And then it jumped, began to fly Above her head: an owl grey

“Come, let us go” she called out then, landing soft on Ellen’s arm, but she had barely spoken, when: A sound did ring out loud and clear;

A voice that set their hearts to fear;

A discordant hum drew ever near;

An echo that did lock them here-

'Til sudden did the king appear.

Him past the door - in anger flew, then from his thigh a hammer drew the room he lit and traveled through as the space about, around them grew it spread and swelled, 'til they could view…

A quiet clearing laid with dew.

There they stood, in clearing then as the sun it blazed so high and 'twas as though trees knelt for him their branches dipped and bowed close by

And all about the air was still: made room for frenzied king to cry He yelled and into silence spilled, as his body strained and writhed

The twisting hammer in his hand it snaked its way unto his chest it sank beneath his writhing skin and from it then a glow did spread

Then the king he shifted in the space - all as a dragon he did roar And Ellen then her legs did brace as dragon’s breath, it blew a storm

Upon his breath these words did sound: “Mey, my heart! How dare you leave?! I gave you the finest things around! What must I do to win your love?”

As the words slipped from his tongue boldly then the owl proclaimed “I am Mey, and you’re undone - for from your lips I take my name!”

And she has flown, above the field changed to hawthorn: razor sharp And to his scaled body dropped; drove her branches; wrapped him up

The dragon changed beneath her binds, and Ellen now in anger flew She in her hand the bow did find: and against the string an arrow drew

The arrow carved through shifting limb and embedded in the soft green earth but all his limbs did vanish then into a body now of slimmer girth

Not dragon, but a serpent large - it slipped away, and fangs did bare With striking speed the snake did charge to Ellen’s arm, it fastened there

Then Mey became a lion fierce She pounced upon the biting thing and from the teeth that held in place The viper tore: split mouth and fang

The bow then changed all in her grip It twisted, wrapped her arm around An arrow then, as sword did flow from palm, prepared to strike him down

'Tween Mey’s teeth the snake did shrink 'til he fell to ground beneath And raised again; as man did smirk Naught but blood where had lain teeth

Then his feet began to swell His skin did stretch, his bones did too His lips they curled; the blood it fell - hit the grass, to stain the dew

Then Mey she grew, and matched for size and strange enough, did Ellen too 'Til all of them as giants rise and none of them the ground could view

The fight then shook the very air - as giants struck, blow for blow, Until but two were standing there and the King he fell to ground below

He fell so slow that it did seem that time had ceased to do its work Until he landed, as if a dream then from the fall the world did quake

Panting, bleeding they did crouch and shrunk unto their normal size Until so close that they could touch the whites around the giant’s eyes

They walked across him, to his chest as the king did bellows make Holding the bow, now as it was Ellen offered it for Mey to take

But Mey, away the bow did turn - Says “You cannot this offer give, for the faerie king is only slain by a mortal with a faerie gift”

Then Ellen, passion in her eyes did turn unto his beating breast And held the bow; drawn and poised Pulled tighter still, then arrow leased

From the wound dug in his heart, a sound like thunderstorm did draw The arrow where the skin did part, then changed to block the gaping maw

Still the clouds fell all around, and like a hurricane, wind flew They held on tight until they found no corpse beneath - they fell below

Now on the ground, young Ellen ‘mazed as all about - the walls they came Then in the tower found they laid, where they’d started, once again

'Twas with a sigh of bending wood, the arrows to her quiver went They passed her arm, wet with blood and as they did the wound did mend

Looking up to Mey’s own face she noticed then that it had changed Where human 'guise had been in place now features like her brother’s shaped

“Now come, you stranger, tell your name; for you know mine, and I not yours As I my life do owe to thee, although my brother was your cause”

“My name it is Elinor, but your life I do not need - It seems we had a common goal: From love’s cruel clutches to be freed”

To an owl again, then Mey did shift- of a size to let young Ellen ride And joyously held them aloft 'til down below her horse they spied

She mounted up, and rode for home While Mey, as wolf, ran by her side Upon the twisted house they came Saw the cat, with Jack beside

And there as these two friends did speak a smile broke out on wolfish face For Mey into a run did break: on her two feet approached the place

“Fearn!” She cried - to her he leapt, changing quick from cat to man Before her then Fearn almost wept lips spread wide by glowing grin

He threw her clothing from the line, wrapped some more about his waist then to each of them did turn and for each introductions made

Mirth and joy around them grew: it filled the air, and in them welled The siblings - reunited, now stood by two friends, their wants fulfilled

One final task before them lay 'twas of Fearn for Ellen’s wish As such his hand upon her placed whereupon her skin did shift

She felt a buzzing through her bones and there in place did shake and lift 'til in another form she rose Now as a lively horse most swift

She danced and sprung in great delight Changed her form again, again Until as a human bright once more did she appear to them

“And of your other wish,” said he, “that much was done 'fore you returned, When I felt you slay the king, for me - had gold and jewels sent to your home”

Elinor felt her word at ease now all her problems, they were solved She would - to wealth - ne'er wedded be yet family would not want for gold

And though the prince could her confine, she would ne'er as captive lie For she would make the world her home: Content to swim, to bound, or fly. *

Ellen, she is a wandering kind, and her spirit cried out to be freed from duties that would her confine That was, until she found the key

For she sought out Fearn, beyond the trees and when she helped his sister, Mey He set her from her duties free And now she travels the world,

Away.

#Writeblr #Poetry #Fantasy #Narrative poetry #Epic poetry #Aromantic characters #Aplatonic character #Art #me #my voice #audio #Original writing #My writing

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theinquisitivej · 5 years

Text

SteamHeart Episode 20 Reactions

Chapter Twenty: Off-Road Warriors

You can listen to the full episode here.

Well damn, that was an intense dose of adrenaline via audio, wasn’t it?

Raven immediately sets the foreboding tone, a notable change from the sweet tranquillity of the previous chapter’s closing moments. His grave description of the convoy of Mad Max-looking scary-crazy-bastards (and yes, this is about to be a Steampunk Fury Road episode, and you should have no objections to that) coming over the horizon sells the real danger that these men represent. The language paints a captivating yet frightening picture of demented vehicles, using harsh consonants to convey the sturdiness of these reinforced crafts, and hissing adjectives to emphasise the sharp, hostile shapes of these clawed, pointed carriages. Best line of the section is certainly “nothing was uniform save for the manifestly apparent expulsion of normality”. It instantly cements the chaotic, violent mindset of the men approaching the mine.

These men call themselves the Southern Cross. Among their number is a man who’s fashioned himself into a bear (the talons fixed to his limbs make me think of a twisted, older and more cruel version of Miguel and his mongoose claw), and, as the band blows their own war trumpets in an act that is as aggressive as it is indicative of their own inflated self-importance over others, the ensuing danger becomes intensified, and chillingly unavoidable. We get the first glimpse of their leader, who wears a horse’s skull and appears to fancy himself a pale rider of death with the white, bone-like motif of his carriage and horses (I’m picturing Overwatch’s Reaper in both appearance and edgy lack of self-awareness). A lieutenant riding ahead of the pack addresses Raven. While Raven is the one who embodies the more dignified aspects of the bird with whom he shares his name, this lieutenant is the one who resembles a squawking, shrill parrot, wearing a beaked plague doctor’s mask and shrieking demands at Raven. He claims that “the Lord of Brimstone” has arrived. Oh this is going to go well.

Raven dashes inside, hurriedly relaying the situation to the others. Within minutes, the few remaining mine workers and the team have brought Tabitha, who, lest we forget, is still going through labour (but still exhibiting her leadership skills even now by issuing orders, reinforcing that whole theme I talked about last time about motherhood / pregnancy not getting in the way of authoritative women being damn good at their jobs), inside SteamHeart. They don’t have enough soldiers to defend this post, and help isn’t coming, so things are looking grim. Even so, Annie assures us that “we’re not dying here like rats in a trap. Hell, that’s like, my one rule.”, and Laureta Sela’s delivery of that second part alleviates some of the tension by getting a chuckle out of me with that great line. As the group approach the gates, however, the pressure of the situation is once again felt as Harry informs the team that, even with SteamHeart’s technological superiority, it will take some serious damage if it charges headfirst into the enemy through the gate, and likely won’t be able to break free of them if it does so.

Annie starts a dialogue with them through the loudspeaker. Abigail wanted to try, demonstrating her continuing desire to work on being a better figure of authority after giving the speech to the theatre a few chapters back, but Annie bluntly shoots that down as she knows they’ll have a better chance if she takes charge of this. Even so, it goes about as well as you’d expect – they don’t heed Annie’s firm warnings, and spout off rhetoric that, in addition to being violently psychotic, is grossly suggestive. Both the birdman and horse leader demand they “open wiiiide, each and every one of you; we are coming in!” Eeurggh… fuck these guys.

The team devise a plan of escape after Jae-Hyun proposes he opens the gate to give the rest of them a chance, acknowledging the certainty that this will result in his own death. His brushing of Tabitha’s cheek indicates the loyalty and love he has for his leader who he will lay down his own life for. He steps out of SteamHeart to meet his fate, adjusting his hat as he does so; if clothes maketh the man, then this act highlights the dignity of this man in the face of these monstrously dressed, hollow creatures who call themselves men. The Southern Cross enter the mine after Hyun opens the gates, and the plague doctor spouts more inane speeches about surrender being the sensible choice in the face of such a rapturous occasion (resembling a combination of Loki in the first Avengers saying “isn’t this so much easier?!”, and a Jim Sterling character). In an instant, Harry springs SteamHeart into action, shooting forward and knocking horses and riders aside as it does so. The episode has been building anticipation to this moment – things are going to kick off hard.

Jae-Hyun pulls the squawking doctor off his horse, and the response of arrows shot in his direction kills both men, though only the doctor meets his death with a scream. I’m torn on Jae-Hyun’s death, as it feels as if we were barely just starting to get to know this coolly tempered character, and the stern composure with which he met his death makes him someone I wish we got to spend more time with. However, I also think a character like this really helps heighten the stakes of the ensuing sequence, as well as hammers home the point that the victory of our heroes doesn’t come without sacrifice. The resilience Jae-Hyun showed as he met his death in order to save the lives of others, while still demonstrating a fighting spirit that showed he was a man who wouldn’t let monsters like these do what they wanted without retribution, makes the most of the small amount of time we spend with him. If we were to have a character with such a journey within SteamHeart, and I think that both the sequence and the story as a whole are stronger for it, I’m also glad that a specific effort is made to make this character not just a generic white guy. Instead, it’s a character of Asian descent who clearly has a defined look, style, and personality outside of what we see of him here in this book. It gives the world and the people in it a little more dimension, and reminds us that the way forward toward a more heroic and noble world is through unity and collaboration between all of us. That’s how we get to see the best of humanity. But for the worst of humanity, like the racist, murderous Southern Cross, it’s pretty satisfying to see someone of a different ethnicity literally pull them off their horse and, when it comes down to it, show that they are the better man when they each meet their deaths.

Anyway, back to the action – I’ll do my best to make my writing engaging and analytical, but to be frank, it’s so easy to lose myself in the flow of this sequence. It’s tense as hell, compelling, features detailed description of well-choreographed action, the voice actors are all delivering their lines with pitch-perfect urgency and intensity, and all of this is packaged together (in this audio version of the book) with some truly immersive editing and sound effect choices. It’s the best action sequence of New Century to date.

As SteamHeart breaks away, the Southern Cross give chase, abandoning their initial goal of the mine as they now want the technology of their craft, as well as to take out their frothing anger on the crew. The grassland beneath them is uneven, which isn’t good for Tabitha during all of this, so James urges Harry to seek the smoothest route. Individual horse riders catch up and start flinging projectiles at SteamHeart’s glowing cables, which you have to imagine is a weak point of the craft (kind of like those glowing spots on a videogame boss). Annie and Butler take position in SteamHeart’s sniping openings. Abigail and Jeremy are handing out ammo and hammering out any projectiles which pierce the hull of the craft, showing that this thing isn’t impervious to damage, and will fall if it takes too much. Harry is doing a mixture of evasive and ramming manoeuvres, resulting in some awesome displays of destruction as enemy carriages splinter, flip, and crash. God, this is good stuff to listen to.

James takes over narration from Raven (incidentally, Raven was a good choice for this first part, as his journalistic ability to report the specifics of events puts you right in the action of this sequence). He recruits Jeremy, instructing him to sterilise some linens using steam from the craft’s internal pipes. Tabitha grips James’ hands as she fights the pain, and the two “breathe together”, something Harry and Tabitha did at the end of the last episode – there’s a lot of power in matching and sharing the breathing of someone else as they go through something hard that pushes them to the edge. James hides nothing from Tabitha when she asks him if he’s delivered many babies before; he’s assisted on several occasions, but this is the first time he’s delivered one himself. But even as weapons hammer the hull next to them, James assures with compassionate determination that they’re going to do this right, and that there will be another “little person in the world” in a short while, which is how they’re going to survive. It’s an exchange of nervous fear as everything happens around them, mixed with hopeful resilience.

We switch to Annie. An approaching enemy vehicle has attached lassos to SteamHeart. Abigail, Harry, and Annie take this in, realise how they need to counter this, and brace themselves; SteamHeart builds energy in a roaring moment of anticipation before Harry jams the wheel and hammers the breaks, making the back of SteamHeart swing like an almighty pendulum, smashing the enemy vehicle in a spectacular moment of destruction.

Now the Bear (whose cries make him sound like Tom Hardy’s Bane) and his vehicle are coming down on them. One of the Southern Cross leaps onto the windshield and embeds his tomahawk in the window and narrowly misses Harry. The proud mechanic indignantly cries out that these fuckers are “tearing my baby apart!”, and Abigail steps out the hatch to punish the window assailant by shooting him point blank in the elbow. If I recall correctly, her weapon of choice right now is a sawn-off shotgun, making the impact of this even meatier and wince-inducing [Editor’s Correction: I’ve been informed that Abigail’s weapon is a shotgun, but not a sawn-off. It’s a lever-action, short-barrel, short-stock shotgun, made for her by Harry, John Browning and William Winchester. Think Arnie during the truck chase scene in Terminator 2]. Annie asks her what the hell she thinks she’s doing, before Abby swings across to the Bear’s carriage using one of the lassos. Annie’s concern is understandable; Abigail is her charge, a possessor of the Endowment (and one who very recently demonstrated can actually put it to good use by closing these portals), and this chaotic and dangerous situation might force Annie to do what Arlington asked of her and shoot Abigail before the Endowment can be lost, which is the last thing she wants to do. We see these frantic thoughts race through her mind as she trains her rifle over the Bear and Abigail’s fight. The Bear seems to be enjoying the duel, demanding his comrades leave her alone and that he be the one to take her down. Abigail catches herself on his armour, but she spits blood in his eye, dodges his club, and, with one guided megaton hit of a punch that slows the world down to a crawl, destroys his balls.

Brutal. Awesome.

As he reels, Abigail ropes the Bear and kicks the driver, snaring him and launching the Bear into the air as Annie tags in with a shot that severs the rope and sends him flying and crashing. A feathered carriage comes in from the side, putting Abigail in danger. Annie calls out for a bottle of bourbon, and Raven assists by giving her his whisky, though he lets her know that she owes him a drink. This, and a lot of other little asides and exchanges during this sequence is what communicates the character of the people engaged in this fight, which makes it all the more exciting and thrilling. It’s people we know and care about who are participating in this and fighting for their lives, not just nameless faces. For that same reason, it’s also what makes it tense and frightening; I really don’t want to lose anyone in this group. But, for the time being, Raven tears a piece of fabric from his shirt and jams it into the bottle, showing he understands exactly what Annie had in mind. He lights it with his cigarette (another indication of his personality – it’s amusing to see that even in this life-or-death situation, Raven prioritises having a lit cigarette in his mouth), and Annie passes the Molotov to Abigail after she realised what the two were planning and came up to them. The synthesis of this teamwork and co-operation between multiple members of the party is really satisfying to watch. Annie lays down covering fire at the feathered carriage to distract them as Abigail slings the bottle, and Annie, like John Marston activating Dead Eye, focuses her attention as time slows down and hits the bottle with one last bullet. Wild fire ignites the carriage. Annie lets out a guttural and sorely earned “YYYYESSS!”

The last carriage is the Lord of Brimstone with his skeleton crew and his bone-white ride. They have dynamite – oh dear. Abigail extends a hand out to Annie, emphasising her support and belief in her that she can make this shot. She pulls Annie onto the roof, and as Annie is pulled into the open air before she lands next to Abby, she sees everything clearly, and identifies her target. She takes her shot immediately, and it lands, hitting the guy behind Brimstone, who was holding a stick of dynamite, which he drops inside the carriage – right next to all the other dynamite. The explosion destroys the carriage, and the leader is shot out like a comical firework, engulfed in fire, ash, and bone. Hey, he was the one who called himself “Brimstone” and obsessed over his boney white aesthetic – I’d say he got exactly what he always wanted.

With a crash, the world goes quiet. We hear a heartbeat slow down, providing a fantastic transition that takes us from the adrenaline of this sequence back down to a place where we can catch our breath. But we’re soon reminded that, while all of this is going on, Tabitha is still facing her own fight as she’s in the middle of giving birth to her baby. As James guides the baby out, provides support to Tabitha, and things escalate to their peak, the explosion echoes out behind them as Tabitha experiences her own release as the baby boy comes out, safe. The music instantly adapts to the sweet innocence of the moment. The crew re-centre themselves, Harry slows down SteamHeart, and now that everything is okay and everyone is safe… Annie punches Abigail in the side, in an act of frustration that ends up hurting her more than Abigail (Annie is after all not quite as used to throwing punches as Abigail is, as we remember from that brawl in Secret Rooms which Abby and James adapted to but which took Annie by surprise and disorientated her). Abigail responds that, while she may have taken a risky move, they all survived and made it through this. The tone is quietly triumphant, intimate, and optimistic. Our heroes have made it through this.

James shares Abby’s gratitude for the moment, and as Butler tells him he’s done a good thing here as Tabitha holds her child close to her, he experiences a sense of tranquil acceptance. James has been experiencing doubts about himself and his usefulness ever since he acquired the Endowment. At the end of Secret Rooms, he even wondered if he would be any good as a doctor after effectively losing one half of his eyes. But by helping another, by bringing this new life into the world, James has realised he can make enough of a difference to be at peace with himself, if only for now. It’s a revelation that endears me to James, as I’ve often found that, at times where I doubt my own self-worth, the best thing I can do is to seek out ways I can help other people, whether it’s in big ways or little ways. If I can make someone else’s day a little easier, then that alone makes me feel like I’m doing alright. And that’s a sentiment I love to see in fiction like this.

So yeah, this episode was a fantastic ride, and a complete triumph.

#The Inquisitive J #fiction #new century #new century multiverse #the new century multiverse #steampunk #alternate history #alternate universe #alternate history fiction #audio drama #fictional podcast #steamheart #the inquisitive j reviews

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lorewytch · 5 years

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Clashing Destiny?!

As per @akozuheiwa and @holydramon Here it is! (Dies) the scene that somehow became much more than I thought it would be. I was sure I would do a page and half of stuff and it ended up being like 5 pages of one freaking scene...(flails!) Oh and for those interested, yes those OCs I made up on the fly sooo they aren’t canon at all XD I thought of how many name puns or jokes I could come up with bird and or dragon names. Isla and Leith are supposedly Scottish names I found. Please tell me what you think. Also this was lightly edited by myself so I may go back and fix a few things before posting the official story XD I hope you enjoy.

ANYWAYS: Here is one random scene from the coming up fanfic that may end up being titled “Clashing Destiny”

Scrooge took one step within the dark and dank room. He swallowed hard, the air was thick and musty and cold. He could see his breath as he slowly approached something within the middle of the room. Bringing his flashlight up, he glided it towards the middle of the room and the light illuminated a table made of stone. It was fragmented and covered in moss. It seemed as if everything in the room was decaying.

The only thing that looked pristine was what lay on the ancient table.

A book.

Curious, Scrooge raised an eyebrow and approached it hesitantly. Upon closer inspection the old tome had five jewels encrusted on the worn, black leather cover. Each jewel had a different color, black, white, blue, red and green.

“What in blazes…” Scrooge muttered.

A wind erupted within the room, slamming the cover of the book open. The sound of paper fluttering and flipping was the only thing he could hear as he covered his eyes with his arm.

Finally, the fluttering stopped and slowly Scrooge lowered his arm. He walked closer to the book and flashing the light upon the page, he read the words that would change everything.

“The Curse of Clan McDuck…”

The teens were sneaking within the dusty and old halls of Castle McDuck. At this time the boys were taking turns telling Webby about the last time they came here and found secret passageways. Webby of course squealed like a fan girl and was all over the place. Going from one painting to the next, she took pictures and documented everything she saw. Dewey had to pull her away and keep her on track. They weren’t just there to sightsee. But to get into some serious mischief.

With Huey and Louie leading the way. The green clad duck holding the flashlight and Huey holding a map of the old building, they continued onward. Ever guarding suits of armor, old clan flags; torn and weathered paintings of relatives long since passed, artifacts galore lined the walls as they continued their adventure into the heart of the castle. The deepest, darkest places that they weren’t even sure the owners ever lingered.

It was down some rusting, iron circular stairway and past the servant’s kitchen, down the hallway that didn’t seem to be cleaned in at least 100 years that they found a strange looking door. It was layered with cobwebs and dust. While the others were made of wood with more or less modern door knobs there was a strange door at the end of the hallway. Painted all in black and was made on pure hand welded iron. Rivets dotted it along with a door handle that might break if touched. All four kids glanced at each other with nervous grins.

“So, are we all in agreement we want to find out what is behind door number one?” Dewey grinned with a dramatic flair of his arms.

“There could be gold..” Louie was already rubbing his hands together.

“Or it could be an ancient library!” Huey’s and Webby’s eyes shone at this.

“Or adventureeeee!” Dewey grabbed the handle forcefully and pulled.

The door slid open an inch.

A pause.

“I see someones been working out.” Louie replied snidely.

Narrowing his eyes at his brother, Dewey pulled harder, sweat pouring down his face as he strained and moved in another few inches.

Sighing, Huey grabbed an edge of the door. “Were gonna be here all day, everyone help pull.”

With all four pushing and pulling they managed to open it enough to slip inside. The room lit up as they walked inside and instantly all four beaks dropped.

“Woahhhh” All four said in unison.

“TREASURE!” Louie whooped and jumped into a pile of golden artifacts nearby.

Huey was instantly by a bookshelf of ancient looking books. He touched them all, eyes shining with glee.

Dewey ran over to an old fashioned guillotine.

“Oooo Fancy.” He commented and looked for things to chop up. Taking selfies and posing with the deadly device, he suddenly spotted something else. Swords.

Picking up one with an especially jewel encrusted hilt, he held up with a grin. “Hey Webs! We should totally-“ he blinked as he saw Webby was no longer in sight.

“Webs?”

Running over to his brothers he glanced around. “Guys have you seen Webby?”

Huey glanced around. “She was just here a second ago..”

Louie popped up. “I think I saw her go near that ladder to the second floor..” Sure enough, above them was a balcony encircling the walls made of wooden banisters. From his view, Dewey could see bookcases.

He saw a flash of pink and purple.

“Webby!”

Momentarily forgetting their loot, the brothers climbed up the ladder to the slightly rotten second floor of the room.

The vaulted ceiling made it easier to walk around since they wouldn’t need to crouch. Scanning the upper floor, he saw Webby at the opposite end, her back to them.

Dewey grinned, relieved that she seemed okay. Leading his brothers along the one person pathway against the right wall he ran towards her. Once they reached her though, they knew something was off.

Webby hadn’t even noticed them. Instead she seemed transfixed with something before her.

“Webby?” Dewey’s voice sounded worried.

“Webs what are you looking at?” Louie glanced around her shoulder.

Before them within a glass case was a rusting necklace. It looked as if it was made of pewter and hand crafted. The amulet had a crudely made star and within the middle was an opal. The dark color of the opal gave Louie a bad feeling, yet flashes of bright orange, reds and greens made him curious.

Within the glass case was also a torn piece of parchment with fancy handwritten letters written upon it. However, he couldn’t read it.

“What is that?”

Huey studied it a bit. “…Sumerian? Or Gaelic I’m honestly not sure.” He confessed. “Whatever it is, I can’t read it.”

“Who can?” Dewey asked. Huey and Louie’s eyes drifted to Webby who was slowly reaching a hand out towards the pendant.

When her fingers brushed the glass casing, it shattered.

Scrooge studied the words upon the book carefully. “I fear I have no time left. I must write these heartbreaking words to let the future generations of the McDuck clans know the terrifying truth of what my brother has done. I fear he has done something that canna be undone and aye only hope those in the future can somehow dispel this curse upon our clan. Leith McDuck and I, Isla McDuck were only simple farmers. We had a falling out with the rest of clan McDuck and were more or less outcasts from the family because of conflicting opinions. I couldn’t stand Leith living out there alone, so I came with him.

Little did I know that what his true purpose was.”

“Leith! Leith!” A red haired girl, clad in several layers of skirts stumbled after her brother.

Leith’s own red locks were tied back neatly and as he glanced back at his sister, he let out a sigh.

“Isla..can you at least act more lady-like while running? You will never attract a man that way.”

Isla raised an eyebrow at her brother. Hands on her hips, she almost dared him to continue that sentence.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and turned back, continuing to walk. She followed after him.

“Where are you going? It’s going to get dark soon. You shouldn’t be out.”

“Who are you? Mom?” Leith snapped.

“No, but I am your sister.” Isla rebutted. Grabbing his ponytail, she started to drag him back. Quacking and flailing his limbs, Leith tried to escape his sassy sisters hold but knew it was futile.

Groaning, he decided he didn’t have a choice. “Fine! I’m going on a lead to find us some money!”

Isla stopped. “Money?”

Leith pouted, crossing his arms. “You ruined the surprise..”

“And how perchance are we going to acquire this money?” Isla inquired.

“Have you been reading books again?” Leith eyed her.

“Please don’t tell me you are doing something shady again.” Isla prayed. “After that debacle with the fake bouncing potion..”

“It was real I tell you! Those confound it bears were too fast for me to steal it!” Leith pouted again while Isla looked at her brother with a seriously worried expression.

“Just…don’t tell me its something like that..” Isla finished.

Leith sighed. “On my word dear sister, it is not like that.” He stared into her eyes.

Staring back, she looked for any shred of falsehood. But could find none.

Releasing her brother’s hair she sighed and crossed her arms. “So..what kind of deal is this?” She inquired.

“You know Rory?”

“Rory Bitterness?” Isla raised an eyebrow.

“Aye, he has gotten in contact with an Alchemist..” Leith’s eyes sparkled.

Isla groaned. “Leith….no…I said no more of that magic stuff!”

“This isn’t magic Isla!” Leith’s arms opened wide. “He assured me, this is pure science.”

“Science…” Isla repeated, not convinced.

“Aye! This is it, a spell to turn things to gold!” He took her hand in his and smiled brightly. “We can finally live the way we want!” he laughed and picked her up by the waist and spun her around. “Imagine it Isla! Father and Mother will have to believe in me and my dreams!”

Finding herself laughing a bit at her brothers antics, it was hard not to go with the flow with his rather silly dreaming. “Oh Leith.” She smiled slightly.

“Please Isla, let me do this…this won’t only just help me. Do you want father to come back and take you away to marry some old fat nobleman in his 50s?”

Isla glanced away, closing her eyes. Sighing, she managed a smile. “Okay, go. I’ll be here. Maybe I can go visit Skye Crane while you are gone.”

Leith rolled his eyes a bit. “You and that crazy lady. I swear she’s the definition of a witch. And you say I’m conniving with demons.”

She gave her brother a wicked grin. “You have your sins, and I have mine..”

“As it turned out, letting my brother go that was the biggest mistake of my life.” Scrooge read, within his mind he was trying to recall the names of Isla and Leith. But his mind was blank.

“When he returned, he spoke of talking with a dragon alchemist. He was so excited and brandished a strange looking golden object. It was a mirror and he stated anything reflected within it could be turned to gold.” Scrooge gave a “pah” at this.

“This Leith sounds like a mighty gullible fellow.” He muttered.

“Of course, it was too good to be true. We tried many times to make it work. It was useless and while Leith gave into his anger, I offered to see if someone wished to buy it.”

“Who would buy this useless piece of junk?!” Leith growled and smashed the mirror into the floor.

“And that’s when it all began.”

Webby’s eyes began to glow a bright white and she spoke in a weird tongue none of the triplets recognized. The boys were yelping and trying to avoid the flying glass, Dewey having a tight hold on her arm. “Webby!” He shouted over the loud noise that was engulfing the room.

“What is she saying?!” Louie shouted to Huey who simply shrugged his shoulders.

“Webby stop!” Dewey tried to pull her away.

Her arm was outstretched, reaching for the pendant which seemed to be glowing with energy. Her fingers were nearly brushing the metal, when the boys seemed to realize that maybe this was a really bad idea.

All three grabbed their sister and tried to yank her away from the pendant. But a strange burst of wind knocked them off their feet and the trio tumbled in a heap behind her.

Mindlessly, fourteen year old Webbigail Vanderquack reached out. Her hands grasping around the pendant.

The opal shattered.

“At first, we noticed strange things here or there missing.” Scrooge read, completely absorbed within the tome.

“Then we realized something was very wrong when we both had similar dreams. A strange being was always there. He had the face of deer skull, deep red eyes and had a black mass that he could change at will for a body. He called himself Antaurus, he called himself a god but we knew better.

Skye confirmed our worse fears, she had ‘the sight’. She saw nothing but danger and death if we continued to deal with Antaurus. At first, we all thought we could defeat him on our own. We got together with Rory and the Alchemist, Slysten Dragster was his name. He gave us several magical items to dispel this monster, this demon.

But everything failed, and the demon grew more powerful. Feeding off our negativity and fear, he soon materialized in flesh and blood.

And that was when everything went to heck..literally.”

Leith, Isla, Rory and Skye stood before the home. Floating above them, laughing maniacally was Antaurus. The demonic figure swept up to Skye.

“I see that you have something very fascinating for your eyes. I might just take them for my own!” With a swipe of his hand across her eyes, Skye’s vision went black.

“NO!” She screamed, falling to her knees and clutching at her now sightless eyes.

“Skye!” Isla ran to her friend, kneeling next to her and holding her.

Rory growled and swung an axe at the demon. It simply passed through the astral being and grabbing Rory’s red mop of a head, the beast raised him to eye level. Cursing at the demon with every foul word he could muster, Rory was swinging and fighting with everything he had.

Leith took this chance and grasped onto a magical whip and flung it towards the demon. It wrapped around Antaurus’ arm. But the demon merely smirked.

“I see this one has quite the Mouth on him.” Swiping his hand across the others mouth, Rory went to yell at the monster again, only silence answered his plea.

Giving a horrified expression, Leith yanked the whip with everything he had and the demon released Rory. Wrapping his arm around the whip, the demon yanked back, sending an unprepared Leith to the ground. Glaring up harshly, he quickly got to his feet and tried to kick and punch the monster that he had unleashed upon them all. None of his hits connected obviously, but he couldn’t risk this monster going after Isla next. Grasping Leith by the neck, Antaurus smirked and spoke with Rory’s voice.

“And you are too energetic for your own good dear Leith.” He chuckled. “I would very much like that Body of yours.” Antaurus raised his arm.

“NO!” Isla yelled and got up, running as fast as her skirts could allow her and knocked into her brother, sending them both of the demons grasp and tumbling to the earth. She grasped onto her brothers arm and dragged him. They were running now. Running for their lives.

Hand in hand, the brother and sister ran. Leith chanced a look behind him and paled. The demon was approaching them rapidly from behind. Knowing they couldn’t outrun him, Leith knocked Isla to the ground as Antaurus swept over them, floating down just inches from their heads.

Before Leith could get up, he was yanked up and a hand quickly swept over his legs. Shocked, Leith could only fall to the ground as he was released. And before his eyes the demon grew legs with webbed feet.

“Leith!” Isla cried out and grasped her brother, he could no longer feel his legs and lay there pathetically.

“Isla! Get away!” Leith positioned himself in front of his sister. Even if he could no longer fight, no longer run he could buy her some time. He knew the monster would come for her next.

“Ah yes, the little sister.” He reached out for her, Isla closing her eyes and cringing in fear.

But as his fingers brushed her hair, a spark of light made him yank his hand back at an alarming rate. “Magic?!” He growled. “But how?”

Confused, Isla opened her eyes and glanced at what she was clutching in her hand. Her mother’s pendant.

A pendant of a star, for her to always remember that her mother was gazing down at her from the starry sky. The white opal within the center seemed to sparkle.

“Isla!” Skye’s voice called from behind her and she spotted Rory helping Skye to where Isla is.

The demon growled and approached the siblings with ill intent. “I should smother out this light as soon as possible.”

“Not today!” Skye whispered some ancient incantations which threw the demon back. Holding up a hand, Skye formed a ball of pure blue energy within her grasp.

Thrusting it out, the ball exploded into some kind of sticky sap which temporarily stuck the demon to the tree.

Taking this time, Rory led her to Isla who was looking frazzled and worried about everyone around her.

“Skye are you okay?!” She whispered frantically to her friend, her heart hurting because of her current state.

“You ARE a witch?” was Leith’s dumfounded question.

Rory rolled his eyes.

Skye smiled a bit. “I’ll be fine, and sorry I didn’t tell you guys.” She weakly chuckled. “It’s not something that should be known in the open.” A growl alerted her attention at Antaurus who was quickly pulling himself free.

“Listen, Isla, you have to listen to me.” She looked deep within her best friends eyes with her unseeing ones. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you were special. You have light within you.”

“Light?” Isla whispered.

Nodding, Skye turned to where she thought she heard Antaurus.”Which means, we can win.” She handed her friend a piece of paper. “Repeat that spell.” Slowly she began to stand up, forming more magic within her hands. “It’s the only way to stop this demon.”

Antaurus finally burst free from his confines and came at them full force.

Even blind, Skye thrust out magical blasts like they were nothing. Quite a few didn’t hit, but it was enough to slow him down. “Now Isla!!!”

Fumbling with the piece of paper, Isla glared at Antaurus. “Forge the light within my soul alone, Steal his senses and lock him away in stone!” She repeated this as he growled, knocking Skye away into Rory.

Continuing to repeat, she soon lost sight of everything around her as she began to glow. Leith was still lying before her, holding himself up with his arms and half protecting, half gazing up in awe as his sister literally levitated in the air!

“Forge the light within my soul!” Isla’s voice rang firm, the crystal around her neck pulsing with light and blasted at the demon.

“Steal his senses!” She growled, Antaurus let out a wail as his voice as well as Rory’s were taken, as well as Skyes and his sight and Leith’s legs.

The being before them writhed in agony at having his senses stolen, forming into five crystals that spun around Isla.

“And lock him away in stone!” Her voice echoed. A bright light exploded from the opal on her necklace.

All of them watched in awe as Antaurus was swept up in a in a black orb and absorbed within the opal.

Gasping, the glow in Isla’s eyes faded and she fell to the ground, Rory just managing to catch her before she hurt herself.

“We did it!” was Skye’s laughing yell.

Rory went to say something, but nothing came out.

“Wait…”

Leith tried to stand.

Skye opened her eyes.

They hadn’t gotten their senses back.

“While we may had won the war, the damage had been done.” Scrooge closed his eyes painfully. “When Skye studied the stone she had some ominous news. Antaurus was not defeated. In fact, in a dream he had given her a prophecy that chilled us all to the bone. The Prophecy goes as thus:

In a mere five one thousands I will return

When the moon is black and burnt.

I will seek revenge against McDuck the clan

And steal what is mine as according to plan

Four from the clan will stand in my way

But I will destroy them within a day

The one with the book will lose their sight

The one with the inner strength will lose their body

The one with the skills will lose their voice.”

The last sentence made Scrooge’s heart stop.

“The one to inherit the light will be consumed by shadows.”

#fanfic #ducktales #webby #huey dewey and louie #scrooge mcduck #ocs #somuchdrama #magic #history?#evil dude #tell me what you think

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zehypocriticaloath · 6 years

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Birds of a feather, pt. 2

[Pt. 1]

The blizzard had come. As it was said to have. The thickly falling curtain of snow in the early morning hours had only picked up in its intensity and volume by middle day. And by the next day, it was a complete and utter white out. The temperatures plummeted and, as estimated, the complex machinery making up the Respawn machine all but iced over, becoming a large, useless hunk of cold gears, solidified oil and stalled computer circuitry.

There wasn’t much that could be done for those residing on the aptly-named base called Coldfront. High up in the mountainous alpine region, all they could do was wait out the blizzard and hope that, in a few days to, quite possibly, a week, the roads would be cleared so they could get to town. That’d be the only way they’d be able to restock their supplies. Shipments from MannCo were bound to be snowbound at this point.

An exhausted sigh came from the bleary eyed doctor. He was already on his second mug of coffee, and he could finally recognize the subtle sensation of becoming alive. He had stayed up far too late last night. He had been far too engrossed in his little project of experimental madness, he hadn’t realized that by the time he was done, and the results could finally be penned down, it was nearly four in the morning.

Never would he regret the lack of sleep. After all, he had sacrificed sleep in the name of science. And that, of course, would always be an exceptionally noble and worthy cause in his mind.

His unkindness squawked about in their excitement. Aldous, despite being sleep deprived, had laid out a few of their favorite toys and puzzles. Snowy ‘off days’ meant that the ravens had an extra long play period. The clustered cloud of corvids occupied themselves, much to the doctor’s relief.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like his unkindness, or that he was annoyed with them. In all actuality, he considered himself to be a father. A father... with four rambunctious, rebellious, and highly intelligent children under his wing. This late in the game he could never have children. And, if by some miracle he did have kids (never happening), he doubted his ability at being a good father. At least, with the ravens, he could still have that feeling that he was doing something right in taking care of them, raising them all from tiny, abandoned hatchlings to the sleek, smart, and sassy adults that they were now. They could be his children, and he was their father, not owner.

But today... he just didn’t want to be a father. He was far too exhausted, and his coffee was working, albeit slowly, taking its sweet time in waking him up. He was a little late on taking his medication and, as a result, was having a hard time being patient, letting it do its thing.

His mind drifted across the various events of yesterday. During his morning smoke break he had fed the various members of the corvidae class that lived outside, on the base’s grounds. He had befriended them all, though the process of gaining their trust had been a long and winding one. Now, however, all his efforts paid off. Any time he stepped outside, they greeted him like an old friend. Anytime he fought in a skirmish, they recognized him (even with his mask, cowl and hat on), and they often flew high above him (safely out of harm’s way), just to watch over him and, he liked to think, silently cheer him on.

He was slowly beginning to realize it, but he had become an integral part of their big family.

Taking another sip of his coffee, he willed the conflict in his mind to quiet down. He glanced over at the book on his desk. It was shoved off to the corner. Ah, yes. The reference guide from yesterday.

Faintly hearing an excited shriek coming from one of his ravens (they must have completed a puzzle and was currently celebrating), he pulled the book close to him. He had a bigger, more extensive version of the same book, and he often transcribed all of the notes he took into that one. But this one was a well worn, well thumbed through edition that he rather enjoyed. It came with a lot of memories.��

Idly flipping through until he got to the corvidae page, he admired how many beautiful birds graced the pages of that section. The corvidae were, in his opinion, far superior birds than the rest. While some birds, all around the world, basked in the fame and adoration showered upon them for their colorful plumage, or unique patterns, or lovely tittering song-calls... Aldous knew that the vanity of those birds didn’t matter. Were they as smart as a corvid? Were they as resourceful as a corvid? Could they survive like one? Communicate like one? Did they have personalities? Unique personalities, like ravens? Or crows? And did they forge long lasting familial bonds?

Of course they couldn’t. They were lacking.

Aldous knew his sap-hearted brother would bring up the fact that his mourning doves mated for life, and that they had strong, familial bonds, too... but who really paid attention to his blathering on about those overgrown rats with wings? Not he, for starters. Turtle doves could never be the superior ones.

Flipping another page, he lingered on the realistic image of the alpine chough. That was the bird he came across yesterday. He had done some research on the bird, and he had to admire its tenacity. For being a crow, it really was a brave little thing. It made its nests often on cliffsides, and displayed a sense of audacity that even Aldous had to admire. And it was loyal. According to his research, the bird, like his brother’s precious mourning doves, mated for life. Monogamy, he recalled reading. Yes, that was the word. Monogamy.

He gently passed his thumb over the date he had penned in, next to the tiny drawn body of the chough. He recalled the memory of that brazen little bird hopping towards him, hoping to get some food. While the other ravens and crows were whirling about, high in the sky, in a display of aerobatic greeting, that little bird had been the only one to approach him first. It knew what it wanted in life, and it wasn’t about to waste any more time and dawdle about. It wanted it, and it wanted it right then.

Rebellious bravery. He admired that trait, too.

“Rrrrk.”

Pulled from his thoughts, Aldous was startled. He jolted a little in his chair before looking over at the grand, stately raven that perched on his desk. Well... it perched on the human skull residing on his desk. Rapustin’s bony cranium had always been the favored perch of his eldest raven, Poe. The raven was at least putting it to good use. After all, Rapustin was no longer using it. Correct? How could the dead use their own skull anymore? No more thinking to be had. No more need for bones. No more cage for the floating, squishy brain matter. And, of course, before Rapustin’s scheduled execution (the reasoning was still a mystery to Aldous), the lumbering man had written in his will--- or whatever it was that he had written this request-- that he receive the skull in order to ‘put it to good use’.

After all, what could be a more honorable throne for a raven? Nothing, Aldous thought. A human skull was perfect.

Too bad Rasputin didn’t leave him his brain to study.

“Tsk. Silly boy.” Aldous gently pushed aside the reference guide, pinning his raven with an inquisitive stare. “Did you already solve the puzzles I put out?”

“Wuh, wuh.”

Raising an eyebrow, Aldous audibly spoke aloud his amusement with an impressed, “all of them?”

“Yes.”

“Heh!” Pulling open the top drawer of his desk, he pushed aside a gun case and a bag of candies before locating another type of bag. This one did not hold candy. It held treats of another kind.

Pulling out the small sack, he rummaged through it before he selected what looked to be a medley mix of what he fed the corvids outside. “Such a clever child you are!”

Giving his ravens their daily treats were, by far, the best part of the day. And as he watched Poe gobble his little reward up (right out of his hand, too), he glanced back at the reference guide.

The alpine chough was on his mind.

“...Poe.” Once the raven was done greedily gobbling up his reward, the doctor reached over and picked up the reference guide once more. He flipped a page so he could be back on the one with the chough on it. Showing it to the great, sleek black bird, he watched as Poe studied the picture. “What do you think of this bird?” Tapping the drawing of the chough, he watched as Poe’s throat feathers fluffed out. “It stayed with me yesterday.”

Poe took a moment to scrutinize the page. This meant that he rubbed his beak against it, and even attempted to nibble the page (resulting in a light, but stern, chiding from his human). After a moment the raven looked up at Aldous, letting out a funny sounding warble.

“Mmm. I take that as you are indifferent on the matter.” Closing the reference guide once more, he took a long, thoughtful sip of his coffee. His mind was quieter now, and he could think a bit more clearly. “The bird made me think and... I wanted to ask you something. I know you don’t really understand me--”

“Understand. Understand.”

“--heh. Funny. You are very funny.” Letting a short pause settle between his words, he picked up his train of thought with a well aimed, but hesitant, “fine, you understand me. I, ah... I had a thought yesterday.” Aldous set down his mug and, instead, lifted his hand towards the raven’s beak. Poe reciprocated the action by gently rubbing his beak against his owner’s hand, letting out comforting noises from deep within its throat. “Am I not just a caretaker to you? Am I something different? Something more?”

The other ravens, by now, had lost interest in the toys and puzzles. They were now clamoring for any space on the doctor’s desk. If they couldn’t get a place on the desk, or books, or even the back of Aldous’s chair, they tried to settle in anywhere close. They were attention hogs at the most. Childish in this way, and in every way possible. But they were enjoyable this way. They were... amusing in the way that they were still very much like humans.

Or humans were like ravens. It was hard to tell at this point who was like who.

“Am I,” he continued, “a part of your group? Your unkindness? I ask this of all of you--”

“Ass.”

Aldous sighed heavily. “Even you, Roderick. You have all taken care of me. Or looked after me in your own way. You have kept me company, made sure I’m not alone. You’ve entertained me, made me laugh.” He looked at each raven, each member of his unkindness. “There are... humans that help me, too. Who look after me and who check up on me. My brother, and my friends. Those close to me who care.”

The unkindness quietly listened to him. Beady black eyes blinked up at him, their sleek, glossy bodies relaxed at the soothing sound of his comforting, familiar voice.

“I never used to let anyone in. I used to keep a wall up. I kept people away. I frightened people off before they could get to know me better. And I made sure people hesitated or thought twice about visiting me. I enjoyed being alone because it was safe."

He couldn’t get hurt anymore. He honestly knew what some people thought of him. And, in some way, he admitted they had a right in thinking so. He had done some horrible things in his past, and he knew he had to stand up and take all the blame. No more running away. But then again, a lot of it was... unfair. Unfairly judged against him. And he’d rather not befriend someone if they were going to think of him as a dangerous monster. He wasn’t. It was the stigma of what he had. He was sick, but that didn’t make him a monster.

So he scared people away. He built up a wall. He flourished under the rumors and the made up names, all spoken against him, behind his back. He used it as a weapon and a shield, turning it all around and using it against everyone he could.

By keeping people away, he couldn’t get to know someone. It saved him the pain of finding out the disgusting, filthy truth of it all; that some people were no good in his life. He didn’t trust humans. He didn’t trust humanity. And he sure as hell didn’t trust people, or society, as a whole. He’d seen what a group of people could do to others. Sheep in a herd, lead blind by a shepherd who only lead them astray.

He witnessed far too much pain wrought on one another, on innocent people, by humans. Humans were often far more dangerous than any creature of the wild.

Aldous lapsed into silence, vaguely comforted only by the clicking and popping sounds his unkindness was omitting. He had half expected some sort of reply (even if were a mimicry of words he had used in the past). But, no. Silence. He figured as much. The ravens didn’t understand him. How could they? As fantastic as corvids were, they were still... only birds. Only birds, and nothing more. They didn’t hold the vast complexity of a vocabulary, or display a wide array of emotions. Not like what they had. What humans had.

His ravens knew more than most, but that is because he spent time-- hours upon hours, days upon days, weeks upon weeks-- teaching them words both in English and Deutsche. Sure, the words were considered to be mere mimicry of things he had spoken. He didn’t care. He wanted them to know the meaning behind certain things, to understand what he was getting at. He wanted them to know the names behind colors, and objects and certain concepts.

He wanted company, even when he longed to be alone.

“...Feh. Forget I said anything.” Going to retract his hand from Poe, he was surprised when the elder raven made a fuss. He watched as the raven stepped out with its foot, stepping onto his hand. “What is it now? No. No more treats. You’ve had en--”

It was then... that Aldous heard the eldest raven say something that he never dreamt he’d hear coming from him.

There were many times Aldous referred to himself as such a word, but only in the company of his ravens. Never did he speak such a thing, or idea, around his teammates and fellow coworkers. He never spoke of it aloud to his brother, or even Alexei. They had no clue he referred to himself as such.

His heart stilled for a beat or two. His chest tightened.

“What... did you--”

The eldest raven-- the leader of the unkindness-- proudly moved up Aldous’s arm until he was perched on the man’s skinny shoulder. From there the raven lovingly rubbed the side of his beak against his cheek, feeling the slight stubble of a sleep-deprived night, and a rushed, discordant morning.

This human was like a raven to them. Perhaps his wings weren’t as glossy, and they were a bit dull, maybe gray. Perhaps he couldn’t fly, and he was, forever, stuck to the limitations of the ground. And perhaps he was scarred and scary to most. Perhaps he was a little sick, too; a little too skinny, and a little too frail. But to them, he was--

“Father,” croaked the raven, once more.

#writing featuring Aldous #ic

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marshaeb · 3 years

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P.S: I'm Mated With The Cursed Alpha!

Chapter Seven

Hey guy! Don’t forget to Like, Comment, Review, and Follow for more updates! My apologies in advance for all the grammatical errors. Book will be professionally edited when completed.

After all that had just transpired, I was expecting Mom to blow up on me as soon as we stepped through the door, but her behavior was quite different. She was quiet and calm as she sat at the cleared dining table, looking through a pile of paperwork.

My heart was in my gut... I didn’t know how to feel or what to say after all the mess I got us in. I stood there timidly, with my sore, wounded arm covered with blood, held up to my chest.

I was a total mess. You’d swear I’d been out scuffling with Chelsea and her clique the way that I looked. Bloody and drench from wetting it up and my hair was a tousled fro of fluff.

“Um, Mom...” I said quietly...almost too quietly.

She paused and gave me a hard stare.

“I-I just want to say I’m sorry Mom...” I sniffle. “I-I didn’t mean for things to happen the way it did tonight... He attacked me out of nowhere—

“Nah uh... Stop it right there!” She said sternly. “How many times have I told you, Joel? For once listen to me when I talk to you! All I wanted was to keep you away from danger... from allowing something like this to happen! Still, you disobeyed me and snuck out!”

“But, Mom I-I’m sorry... I-I could explain—

“What’s left to explain, dear?” She said. “Everything has already happened... though I hate to even think this way, but probably this was meant to be... probably this all explains the reason for your rebellious behavior... it was to led you to him.”

“No Mom... This is all coincidental... that’s it!” I said feeling my wound starting to burn. “That’s all it is.”

“Do you really think so?” She asked in a shaky voice. “I saw something you didn’t see...”

“Saw what mama?” I asked confusedly.

“That look in his eyes... The way he looked at you.” She said. “You don’t know how it feels yet... The first time you smell your mate... it hits you like the strongest substance there is... It drives you crazy! Almost like you’re losing your mind... Why did you think he did what he did and attack you...not wanting to let you go!”

My mind instantly went back to St. Pete’s. When he saw me from across the room. I just popped off and came at me full force.

“Mom...what can I do?” I begged her.

“What can you do?” She repeated with no hope in her voice. “Joel, there’s nothing you...or I can do right now...but to wait to see where your future lies on your eighteen birthday.”

“B-but Jackson!” I said feeling my whole world crumbling down around me. “What am I supposed to—

“Jackson has been sent on a three-month mission in the west...” She said, “and for one thing...thank heavens he’s not here, because things would have been even more disastrous if Alpha Darius found out that his potential mate has a boyfriend.”

I took in sharp deep breaths and embraced myself tightly. ’I don’t want Jackson to get hurt...” I mumbled.

“Then I suggest you do the safest thing there is...keep your mouth shut and don’t mention his name.” Mom said. “By the time he’s back from his mission, you will by then know who your potential mate will be.”

“But...but my birthday is in three months, Mom...what will I do then?” I asked. “The hospital is out of our territory...”

“I know...which is why I’m busy trying to set things up for your safety,” Mom said. “And that’s tripling security too.”

A look of confusion crossed my face.

“But... I am safe! I’m on our territory!” I said.

Mom stopped and gave me a dead stare. “You really don’t know who you’re messing with, do you?”

I swallowed deeply. The guy’s crazier than I thought.

“A powerful Alpha, who have been searching seven years for his mate... has finally found her by sheer luck.” Mom said. “Could you imagine how hungry he is for you? Do you think a hot-blooded, superior Alpha like him could resist his mate?”

I stood there quietly as reality began to settle in.

“I doubt it...” She continued. “I’ll exchange you from the hospital for a little while with Samantha at the preschool... It’s only for blocks away from our home and it’s properly guarded.”

“The Nursery?” I gasped. “Mom... I’m not a caretaker.”

“It’s either that or risk yourself being at the hospital.” She said. “I don’t think you understand what it is to be marked Joel... and it’s different from an Alpha. It’s like volts of uncontrollable pleasure, rushing through your body... like venom. When he claims you, a part of him lives inside you forever.”

I could hear the intensity in her voice... Just hearing her explain it made me tremble with fear.

“So...until then...we wait,” she said. “Now go and take a bath. I’ll call over a nurse to patch up your wound.”

She walked back over to her desk and continued to sort through her paperwork.

After reaching upstairs to my room, Talloc was nowhere to be found like always. She was out hunting.

The sounds of howls rippled through the dark forest, but it was chilling and wretched. It was the cursed Alpha’s, and I know he was somewhere in the dark eerie forest, watching me at this very moment.

~~~~~~~~

~Present Day~

About a week has passed and I’ve been staying indoors ever since. My wound was healing faster than I thought it would, but the soreness was still there.

Nobody knew about what had taken place that night. Mom made sure of that. But just being here, trapped indoors had me so paranoid. Overthinking about everything that has happened and the consequences that would happen to me if I slip up again.

I really miss having those privileges when I could move about and enjoy my freedom. Now that I’m thinking about it, I rather have Mom’s strict curfew any day than being locked up from Alpha Darius.

My mind kept going on Jackson... I wanted him here with me. To comfort me and tell me what I needed to hear. That I am his mate and this is all one big misunderstanding, but sadly, it wasn’t.

A few months from now, I might be Mated to a man I barely even know. It saddens me to even think Jackson and I wouldn’t be together like we hoped, but to a man overly possessive Alpha who attacked me and nearly capture me against my will.

And he won’t leave me alone. Ever since that dreadful night, he has been stalking me almost every night.

His huge black wolf is always there...in that same spot in the woods... watching my room. He’s driving me insane. It was as if he’s waiting for any moment for me to slip up.

This feeling is like being on death row... knowing a terrible fate awaits you.

Talloc suddenly flew into the window I left open for her, nearly scaring my trouble soul half to death.

“Talloc!” I gasped, holding my chest. “You scared me, girl.”

She rolled her neck and squawk back at me.

“Did you had fun hunting last night?” I said to her, trying to wipe off the drop of blood from her beak.

And as you guessed right, she wasn’t gonna just let me step up to her and clean her beak without being defensive. She pecked my finger softly, holding it in her mouth.

“Come on, Talloc...just because you older now doesn’t mean I-I can’t clean you up just a little,” I said, but it was hopeless.

My rebellious snowy owl flew off in one huge flap, dropping the stack of pictures and old letters out of the window.

“No!” I shouted, running over to the window as they scattered everywhere across the lawn. “Shit!”

I turn around to catch my breath.

“Urgh...Talloc! Damn that feisty bird!” I grunted. “My pictures...they all fell over! I have to get them before they all get ruined.”

I threw on my navy denim jacket and dashed to my room door, but then I suddenly remembered that it wasn’t safe...he could be out there.

Though I’m still safe on the territory,

I’m just beyond paranoid to even encounter him again, face to face. Plus mom had already warned me, for my own sake to keep my distance.

I can’t make a fool of myself again... and for Mom’s sake, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I embarrassed her even more than I already did.

A deep, anxious sigh left my lips as I thought about this situation I’m now faced with. All the memories I collected would be completely ruined if they’re exposed too long.

Deep down in my heart, I wanted to dash out there this instant and collect every last one of them, but my mind had me in fear. Reminding me that he could be out there, but can he really during the daytime?

Usually, he comes out during the evenings just to let me know he’s watching and waiting...and it pisses me off, but maybe...just maybe I might have a chance.

It won’t take long...

I breathed in sharply when I suddenly remembered that Jackson’s letter from back in the eleventh grade was in that stack! That was the time he officially asked me to be his girlfriend...and our pictures!

“I have to get them!” I breathed heavily, walking back in forth in my room. “I better get all of them now...before the wind blows them out of the territory. Then he’ll find those photos with us!”

I crept back over towards my window and slowly, but thoroughly surveyed the grounds for any sign of his black wolf or any of his minions. Surprisingly...there was no sign of him at all.

I was right... Maybe he really does pass through during the evenings. And there’s also those painful, silver Barb wires Mom has up to keep out any intruders. It looks safe enough and besides all my pictures are on the lawn.

“SHIT!” I exclaimed. “No, no, no, NO!”

One of them fell on the other side. Oh Moon goddess, why?!

I crunch down against the window post, breathing shakily. My nerves were taking over and I could feel my throat getting drier and drier by the second!

What the hell! Everything bad is happening to me lately and unfortunately, there is no way to run from it or avoid it. I literally hate my life now.

I held in my breath and slowly took another look out the window. Carefully I observed the proximity of the others to that one that was out of bounds.

My eyes glanced over across the forest once more. I used my sharp wolf senses to pick up if he was out there... Usually, the hairs on my arm would stand up if I sensed him...but it so happens that I didn’t feel anything. There is also no sign of him...so it should be safe!

It has to be! But I have to be cautious and as prompt as possible.

With every fear building up inside me, I pushed it aside, balling my hand into a tight fist, and ran downstairs as quickly as I can.

As soon as I step to the backdoor, my heart launched in my throat. It was now or never.

I turn the doorknob and haul my tail towards the scattered images and letters. My mind was so numb, I felt like falling out from the fear and anxiety if he caught me.

Almost done... Just the other four over there in the flower bed. I quickly ran over and collected them. All in accounted for, except that one. It was just a few inches on the other side.

I held the stack against my chest as I scan the rattling trees of the forest. It was so calm but daunting. If whatever, he might be out there.

I’d dread the day if it happens to be a personal picture of me and Jackson and he gets his hold on it before I do.

Shit! I can’t take this anymore! I have to get that now! I rest the others down and gradually inched my way over. As I reach the barbed wire fence, my supply of oxygen was growing thin. The amount of fear of cutting my windpipe was unbearable.

I licked my lips and lengthened my short arm slowly over. It was so close, but yet so far.

Just a flick of my nail, it scraped the tip. No matter how hard I try, it was useless. Until I started to lose my temper, unleashing my inner wolf as my nails lengthen into claws.

Finally, I latched onto it, but with all that concentration... I let my guard down. I should have known better!

His huge black wolf jumped out of nowhere and dashed over to snatch my hand..but once again, I lucky to pull back my hand right in time.

For a second I felt my heart stop and I swear I mess up myself.

He licked his huge tongue over his sharp teeth and stared down at me like a piece of meat. I tried to catch my breath as I look at the picture underneath his large paw.

What was he doing here? Doesn’t he have a pack to lead? Was he there all this time? Watching me...waiting for the right moment to strike. Mom was right, it’s really not safe for me at all.

I quickly dashed over, collecting the others, and ran back inside up to the room.

I closed my curtains from the outside. I just couldn’t bear it anymore...but what picture was that? There we’re words written behind it!

I sorted through the stack of pictures and letters. Jackson’s letter is here... Thank Goodness it wasn’t that!

As I continued to go through, all we’re present... except that one!

“Our one-year anniversary, Christmas Eve collage! SHIT!”

Read Chapter Eight (Click the link below)

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brod-anthropology · 3 years

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Hjank- Making of

Link to Hjank script and notes

Initially comingnup with Hjank we started by riffing some ideas- Andy had given us a task as a starting point but Charlie and Kit didn't vibe with the task at all and wanted to start compltetly from scratch. After joking around for a while we decided to do a crime drama with a gritty detective and in all honesty I don't know how we came up with the idea of having a goose be the killer, I think Charlie honked at one point and we said we could dress him up as goose and then that evolved to the goose being a killer and ansock puppet because you know, getting a real goose wouldn't work and dressing someone up would be terrifying- this is also how we settled on a sock puppet, we thought that that would be the easiest way to make a goose and it would be the funniest thing to just have a really serious gritty Nordic noir inspired film and just play the goose completely deadpan, like not even acknowledge that he's a goose or a puppet at all and have it as serious as possible. This then posed the issues of what I would write about and how I would make a puppet.

Hjank

Making hjank was at first very difficult, I tried any number of paint and cardboard beak and a whole tube of gorilla glue and went through a fairly large amount of Primark White sports socks but the main success we had was after Jade suggested using food colouring (i hadn't used actual dye as its expensive and there was no guarantee it would've worked with the socks or been the right colour). This the had the issue of consistent colour but I solved that by doing test swatches and then making a bulk batch and I ended up staining most of my bathroom and all of my hands a faint orange for about a week BUT Hjank was born! Albeit he wasn't dry by the day we were shooting but you know my hand was already dyed so you know.

Writing

With writing I did a lot of watching of old noir interview scenes and more modern Nordic noirs and who-done it police shows and wrote out the basic storylines of each and tried to plan out the stereotypical scene between a detective and a criminal- it basically goes “set the scene, establish backstory and relationship, reveal evidence/guilt/admission, reveal of motive (and occasionally revels twist like that he's actually her dad or he's actually got a gun or was just stalling for time or something along those sort of lines)”. Using this template I set about writing out the scene, going step by step writing the bare basic plot and then going back over to add in emotion or edit the interaction or add in a bird related joke and then went back over to add in the different camera angles and editing techniques that I was picturing so that Charlie (cinematographer) could get an idea of what I was going for and Kit (creative producer) could get an idea of what she needed to find props wise and what vibe we were going for.

Needless to say both of them read through half of it and decided it was Good enough so that was fun explaining the plot and directions to them on the day but hey ho!

Shooting

It went really well!

Kit and Charlie turned up late and seeing as Kit had all the bookings me and Nathan set up as best we could and they brought the equipment from the ERC when they arrived and after sorting out some battery issues and generally hanging out and going through the script I decided to kind of get the ball rolling and actually start setting up so everyone would get the message. After we rushed through a bunch of the opening scenes for the montage and got as much of that done as possible (there was a miscommunication at this point about B roll so I did end up having to shoot a bunch at home and colour match it but eh)

After that we realised how late it was and after taking a short break to get more batteries we went into the bulk of the filming. For that it all went pretty smoothly, there was some discrepancies between what charlie thought would be best and what I actually wanted and envisioned for the shots but we compromised a lot so we both got what we wanted and actually for the most part, once he understood what I wanted and he’d set the shot up he really liked what I’d imagined. We’d recorded Hjanks voice as well as the Detectives monologue a couple times too we finsihed up pretty on time.

Editing

Editing was incredibly stressful but that’s on me- I decided to knock all of the editing out in one big sitting and and part way through realised that we hadn’t actually gotten any close ups of the actual pinboard by itself. This meant that I had to actually shoot some close ups of the board itself in my room (luckily I hadn’t taken anything off of it which was great) and then try and colour match in Premiere. I did manage to colour match as best I could, it was my first time actually editing colour in videos so I had to play around a lot but I think I got it as close as I reasonably could. I won’t lie, the beginning montage of the detective's monologue literally took me like 5 maybe 6 hours and the rest of the video took me maybe 2 at max? I don’t know why the first half took me so long, I guess it was probably the filming and colour matching? I also had the music to work with that Charlie made which was insanely good compared to what I was expecting which was great to be able to work with but when there’s music to a montage you want it to work rhythm and pace wise so I guess that added to the time? I also spent a long time trying to make the shadowy ‘4 years’ bit better but decided that there was no point and i was going insane but yeah- after that I had to match the audio files to the right clips which was annoying. I’d edited the whole video before matching the audio files which meant I really had no way of finding the right clips right at the start, I just had to see if it synced so I’ll learn from that next time. I also realised that so much of the audio was so loud, like i’d say 70%+ clipped so badly so I had to bring the volume all the way down and it was just a big mess, like trying to even out the levels between nathan speaking and him yelling was so difficult and because it peaked so badly a lot of the audio quality was lost- there was nothing I think I could’ve done to fix it anymore more than I did and it’s not that bad but I notice it and I know it could be better, so it’s just something I’ll have to keep in mind when Kit records sound next time (like I’ll make sure it very rarely peaks at 6 on the zoom rather than consistently peaks at 6 and I’ll be sure to tell that to whoever is recording the sound). After I synced the audio as best I could and fixed the quality and volume as best I could I made the credits and added the music in at the end which went well but then in putting in the background noises of the cars/siren/street outside (that I recorded from my window earlier) I accidentally wiped out the music so had to go back and do that later. With the background noise I used my old film camera’s buttons and mechanisms to make the recorders sounds and just stuck my arm out my window to get the general sounds for the streets and I think it matches well with the vibe and theme. After I added the music back in and just adjusted all the volume for both the detectives lines and also for Hjanks ADR and watched it through a couple times, added and adjusted little bits here and there and then exported to see what the group thought. They all adored it as it was so I didn’t go back and edit anything and just went to bed and slept off my late night editing session instead.

#103

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theramseyloft · 7 years

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Just so that you can see the shit I deal with from other pigeon breeders:

This was the response to pictures of @radpige ‘s little boy Roo on the COF club forum: (Names replaced with initial/s to protect identities.)

Last year at Louisville, we had solid white, entries. some disqualified, others should have of been. This could put the scare in the young people. Please don't sell culls, this is a deterrent to young members. The #'s of young you raise doesn't matter. What matters is the #'s that placed in the shows. If the number of birds you sell matters, yours is the wrong reason for raising show pigeons.

Hi B. I don't think the lady entering the white bird understood that it was a seraphim and not a COF. Or, that COF's must have lace or bars to be shown. Glad you reminded me of this issue. Seeing how show season is upon us I'll add it to my president's remarks in the newsletter. The confusion was apparent and regrettable but covered in the standard.

I talked to the lady & It had white feathers from day 1. Seraphim has yellow or red feathers as a baby. I raised some white feathered babies, but never kept them.

(What this post is missing is my angry declaration of refusal to kill a healthy bird for failure to make the stock cut, citing that people who breed show dogs separate them into show, breeding, and pet quality, and sure as hell do not kill puppies for not being breeder quality. That, and an older member essentially telling us to shut up about killing birds because it’s “Gold to the fanatics” were both edited out of the post)

R... I said that a bird must have lace or bars to be shown but when I looked at the standard not having lace or bars isn't listed as a disqualification. Shouldn't those markings be required? Or, just deductions?

If it's not in the standard yet, it would seem unfair to a person new to the breed to have their bird disqualified. But, that being said I think they should've entered it in the rare breeds as a Seraph.

Standard clearly defines disqualifications:

DISQUALIFICATIONS-

No Frill. No crest. No grouse muffs. White, or substantial white tail. More than one colored flight mixed in with the white flights in Satinettes. More than one white flight mixed in with the colored flights in Blondinettes. Sickness. Live vermin. Deformities. Severely out of condition from dirt, disease or parasites.

That being said a white bird loses ALL points for color AND markings. That would essentially put it at the back of the pack, which essentially a practical disqualification, if not a literal one.

Oh, and by the way, this is part of our standard:

"There will also be a class for AOC, for other factors which fanciers successfully transfer over to Classic Frills, such as milky, reduced, opal, etc. It should be noted that these factors must also have the telltale marks of Oriental Frills, and that is the Toy Stencil and Frill Stencil Factors, in combination, so that the same requirements stated in other parts of the standard are applicable to any new color factor added to the gene pool".

If I was judging, a white would go out first. Call it what you will.

If you place a cull last, what do you tell a junior member? What to pair this cull to?.

The seller should replace, this one, with a quality pair. Junior members are needed, without being punished, with CULLS. If you raise a hundred young , 75 percent are CULLS. That's 72 yrs. experience. Reduce the #s to be able to afford the feed bill.

Lets fix the heads to conform, to our standard. The heads are so far from meeting the standard. No cheeks, no gullet, top knot to far down the back of the neck, You got the beak to a proper length. when the babies can be raised to fruition.

M has the best heads of all members, my opinion, probably not worth much.

The difference is that this bird was NOT sold to someone who will breed or show him. Dani talks to prospective owners carefully about their goals for the birds she sells, and Roo was sold as a pet. He's not going to be shown, and Dani already told his new owner that he would be disqualified if he were put in a show.

I believe everyone here agrees that if you're selling a COF to a new member, you want to give them good stock birds that can give them a good introduction to the breed. However, that doesn't apply to people who only want pets, because a mismarked bird is still a great pet if their owner doesn't plan to show.

The ones you kill, stew them with a can of succotash. High protein.

The dog and cats love them stewed. R's Aunt made the best I ever ate.

Here is the reply I just posted:

If the only birds not killed in your loft are potential show winners or stock birds who could potentially throw them, then you enjoy the ribbon more than the bird, and the bird is nothing but a means to get ribbons.

Winning or placing at shows is a great way to make sure that a breeding flock is in line with the standard, but shows are just a tool to keep our studs on track so that the breed we love doesn't turn into something else.

You don't need to kill birds to manage numbers.

I manage my numbers by having a small loft, being VERY selective about my keep backs, and selling my culls as house pets to people who don't breed or show.

Every one wins that way.

I don't raise more birds than I can care for.

No healthy birds have to be killed.

No poor quality birds reproduce or take up another breeder's loft space or feed.

People who have no interest in breeding or showing get an unusual, pretty pet that's easy to care for.

And most, when not all, of my feed and vet bills are funded by those people who just wanted a PET.

Fanciers who want to show or breed would not be blessed by a bird that did not at least make the stock cut. Selling OR giving a cull to *them* would be cheating them. If not out of money, then out of feed and space that they could have put towards a bird that will benefit their stud.

But that doesn't make healthy culls worthless.

Fanciers don't want pets.

Yeah, I know.

That's why I don't advertise pet quality birds to fanciers.

But that doesn't mean that there aren't people who do, and I see absolutely no reason that the people who want a pet can't have a healthy cull.

#pigeon breeder mentality #this is the shit that makes shows fucking suck to attend #watch this shit be edited out tomorrow #Dove-mom wuffing!

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liliannorman · 5 years

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How an encounter with this odd-looking bird inspired a career

For Kevin Burgio, the journey to becoming a successful scientist wasn’t easy. When he was young, life was hard. Burgio’s father left before he was born. His mother had dropped out of high school, and she never had a lot of money. Burgio knew he was different from other kids, and deep down, he knew he was bisexual when he was only 11 or 12. He didn’t tell anyone then, and was still bullied during his school years. But he managed to graduate and joined the Air Force. After several years in the military, Burgio left and went to college, eventually receiving his PhD in ecology and evolutionary biology from the University of Connecticut in 2017.

Kevin Burgio uses camouflage paint to disguise himself as he looks for nesting field sparrows, indigo buntings and prairie warblers in Southbury, Conn. Christopher Field

Now Burgio is an ecologist working at both the Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies in Millbrook, N.Y., and the University of Connecticut in Storrs. He has become an expert on extinct species such as the Carolina parakeet. Burgio has pieced together where the bright green parrot once lived in the eastern half of the United States. Now he’s trying to figure out why it went extinct

Burgio also tries to help other people in and out of the sciences. He manages programs that help students learn how to become scientists. It still isn’t easy. He is an advocate for people like himself: single parents, sexual minorities and those living with physical disabilities or mental health issues. In this interview, Burgio shares his experiences and advice with Science News for Students. (This interview has been edited for content and readability. Please note that this story contains references to abuse.)

What inspired you to pursue your career?

I started college later in life, when I was 28, and had planned to go to dental school. When I started school, my hands kept shaking. I went to a neurologist and they told me I had “essential tremor.” (The incurable nervous system disorder can cause a person’s hands to shake). I had no idea what I was going to do. One day, I saw this woodcock outside my apartment window, and I had never seen anything like it. They’re weird. They look like a bowling ball with a beak on it. So I read about the bird online and found it really interesting.

The next semester, I took an ornithology class. (Ornithology is the study of birds.) The professor asked me if I was doing research. I had no idea that undergraduates could even do anything like that. That professor became my undergraduate advisor, and I started working in her lab. She was also my PhD advisor and my postdoc boss. I stayed in her lab for 11 years.

How did you get where you are today?

Some of it is luck. I think my decision to leave home helped. I didn’t want to go to the military, but it was worth it to get away. I didn’t like it, but I did well. I rose to the rank of Air Force staff sergeant before I got out. When it came to grad school, it was difficult to take care of my daughter (Hannah, who is now nine) and the household and a marriage and take classes, and do research and teach. But I just did it.

I guess it’s just this mentality that in the end, it will be worth it. I want to have a job that means something. All of the jobs that I’ve had have all been in service to something bigger than myself. I’ve just never been happy not doing more.

How do you get your best ideas?

Talking to friends, really, and you start riffing about ideas. I kind of liken it to a band sitting together, writing songs. “What about this riff? What about this drum line here?” You just kind of riff with your friends or people you do research with, based on, “I read this cool paper and check this out. It had this cool thing.” And, “Oh, I wonder if we had this kind of data, could we do something similar?” Or, “What about this study was missing that we think would add a really cool dimension to it?”

For me, it’s just surrounding myself with other people who are also very curious and also like to talk about ideas. And that’s really where a lot of my good ideas come from. It’s really a group experience, which is part of why I like it so much.

What’s one of your biggest successes?

Seeing my name in print for the first time was just an indescribable feeling. I think that made it real for me, like, wow, I’m actually a scientist.

Now I have a paper coming out soon that looks at the global diversity of parrots. One figure in it is, I think, the best thing I’ve ever done. It shows the family tree of parrots, over a picture of Gondwana breaking up. Gondwana is the supercontinent that South America, Africa, Australia and New Zealand all used to be part of. As that broke up into the continents that we know better now, some families of parrots drifted away with the continents.

I put all these really cool 1800s pictures of different types of parrots on the map of Gondwana to illustrate how the birds’ diversity is explained by the breakup of the continent. Here are the macaws, for instance, they’re in South America. And the lovebirds, they’re over in Africa. The things I really love all came together to illustrate this really complicated set of ideas. You can learn a lot about parrots just through looking at that one map.

What’s one of your biggest failures, and how did you get past that?

This 19th-century painting by John James Audubon shows a flock of very colorful Carolina parakeets. The bird species, once common in the eastern half of the United States, went extinct about 80 years ago.John James Audubon

My biggest failure in science thus far is my inability to explain how the Carolina parakeet went extinct (the bird went extinct about 80 years ago, for still unknown reasons). I’ve been working on this for seven years. I’ve read lots of historical accounts, including travel diaries from Meriwether Lewis and William Clark (the famous explorers traveled through and mapped the western United States in the early 1800s). And I never figured it out.

That’s the thing about science, a lot of the time, you start out with a really clear idea of what you think is going to happen. And it almost never happens that way. I’ve gotten a lot out of this research. I’ve learned a lot about the species. But there’s just some things that maybe we’ll never know. Ultimately, I had to accept that maybe I’ll figure it out one day, maybe I won’t. But that’s OK.

And I’ve used all the tools that I developed in many other ways. I developed those skills for the Carolina parakeet, but I’ve also used them on other species, such as the Tasmanian tiger. The last of these animals died in Tasmania in Australia some 90 years ago. I’ve also used those skills to look into why birds went extinct from the world’s most remote inhabited islands, Tristan da Cuhna, in the south Atlantic, in the 1800s.

What do you do in your spare time?

I spend my weekends with my daughter. I really love spending time with her because, like me, she’s very curious about the world. I got her a telescope and we go stargazing. She’s really into rockhounding too. I like to explore the world with her because it’s different from how I was brought up, where I was isolated and I didn’t really interact with anyone. I want to share the world as I see it because it’s just so beautiful and amazing. We also play video games a lot, and I take her to hockey games.

Kevin Burgio and his daughter, Hannah, share a moment in Casco, Maine. The pair spend time together stargazing, rockhounding and watching hockey.Lauren Gillespie

In my other spare time, I really like to restore vintage things like cast iron pans, chairs and old knives. I had to read a lot about America in the 1800s to find data about the Carolina parakeet. I learned a lot about the iron industry and how cast iron pans were made. Now I can look at a cast iron pan and probably tell you in what year it was made.

What piece of advice do you wish you had been given when you were younger?

When I was five, I had a sister who died. She was four at the time. That was really the catalyst for a lot of the physical and sexual abuse that I dealt with. I do wish that I asked for more help when I needed it when I was younger. All it would have taken me was to go to a teacher and say something like, “I’m hurting. I’m struggling. I don’t know what to do. I’m in pain.” And I just never did it.

I wish I could’ve told myself, “when you need help, ask for it.” It might be embarrassing. It might be painful. It might be hard to do. But I feel like I would have benefited so much from someone knowing and caring and doing something to help me get out of that situation instead of waiting until I could just leave on my own.

That’s part of the reason why I’m so open about these things publicly. At the end of the day, if I haven’t done anything to improve the lives of people who have gone through the same stuff that I have gone through, I don’t think I could live with myself.

This Q&A is part of a series exploring the many paths to a career in science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM). It has been made possible with generous support from Arconic Foundation.

How an encounter with this odd-looking bird inspired a career published first on https://triviaqaweb.tumblr.com/

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noawesomenessleftundexed · 8 years

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Enter Rowlet! Ash Gets His First Alolan Pokemon!

Bzzt! Hello again! A little background before we start:

These birds?

They steal food. But that’s not how the people see it. They let the birds steal their food.

That’s what they say. So they let the birds to take all the food they want and go. Where can I learn to run a trick like that?

So Ash is still trying to catch a Pokemon and finds a Grubbin. Bug Type.

The Grubbin started out with a string shot. Pikachu jumped, but the kid here almost gets caught it. He dodges too and tells Pikachu to nail the bug with a Thunderbolt.

A direct bzzt! Ash tosses a Poke Ball to catch it and everyone’s waiting to see if it worked.

Did it?

Nope! Grubbin digs underground. Ash tells Pikachu to get a Quick Attack ready when it pops up.

But Grubbin isn’t one to stick to a improve battlefield and pops up behind the group!

Good shriek, blue line across the face, and even the hat is shaking. Great use of the element of surprise on someone who already gets grade-A scared. 10/10

But Grubbin gets disrespectful by attacking the audience. Bad form, bug!

Pictured: Grubbin catching Pikachu with its String Shot. Not Pictured: Grubbin using that “big jaw” of theirs. Who wrote these databzznks?

But a hit’s a hit.

So we go to the Pokemon Center.

Here’s Joy, Blissey and Comfey.

Blissey takes Pikachu to get healed and stuff while I do my job. Comfey’s a Fairy-type and Blissey’s a Normal-type.

These new depictive Pokedex Entries are really something. We didn’t have them in Kalos I think. Did we?

Whatever. Pikachu’s good to go.

Comfey gets Pikachu relaxed, but its scent attracts more than sighs.

A bird Pokemon comes out of nowhere and dives right at it! Comfey spins to deflect it pretty easily while I explain that this Rowlet is a Grass/Flying-Type Pokemon.

No kicks, and I’m pretty sure Comfey’s noticing. I said as much, but Ash was focused on wondering why Rowlet was going after Comfey. Mallow tried to explain, but explaining’s my job so I had to cut her off. (Sometimes I love my job.) I explain that-

And so other Pokemon think of it as fruit. Pokemon like Rowlet here.

Heh. looks like third time wasn’t the charm.

But Ash was all concerned for it, and when Rowlet fell off the power line Ash did this big hero dive to catch it. I’d have done it but my arms are too short. <{:P}:

Ash fed Rowlet, who is a big (and loud eater).

It didn’t do much kicking, but wow can those claws dig in. Seeing Ash ignore that to take care of Rowlet was kinda weird?

But Rowlet got off and went all floofy. Ash looked about ready to catch it...

but it flew off with the watermelon! Ash and Mallow went after them and left me to carry Ash’s backpack! (Like, HEY!)

Looks like Rowlet’s an adopted bird. It was a full nest, and yours truly described the Pokemon to Ash and Mallow. There were Pikipek, a Normal/Flying-type,

Trumbeak, another Normal/Flying-type,

And Toucannon (you can see where this is going.)

Now, I wasn’t sure about that beak thing. The Pokedex’s data’s steered me wrong before-

(It tried to tell me that a talking Meowth was a new species, as if just being able to talk meant you were a new, special species! Can’t believe I almost fell for But I know better of course. Moving on...)

-so I decided to check it out myself. Turns out the beak isn’t always that hot. Ha! (It can get really hot though...)

But then these nets came out of nowhere!

Turns out those nets came from deez nuts. They said that the food had been stolen from a Bewear they owed? Uhhhh???

And then they netted the food. They were going to take all the food, Pokemon, and Pikachu too!

Jessie’s style is... um... what’s the technical term? Searching...

Lame! That’s right!

But Mimikyu’s strong enough to work it out.

Its Shadow Ball is still as strong as Pikachu’s Electro Ball.

And its Disguise is still just as good, shrugging off a blow from Pikachu.

But while the two were fighting, Rowlet was able to tear open one of the nets with a single kick!

But Mimikyu got in a Play Rough, and looked about ready to finish Pikachu off with its Shadow Claw. It looked all over for Pikachu when...

Rowlet used Leafage for cover before flying Pikachu out of there! Mimikyu barely missed and was all wha? How wha? was Mimikyu?

Wha? enough for Pikachu to bean it with a Thunderbolt!

Rowlet lets loose the others. Mimikyu looks ready for Round 2 when-

Bewear comes from out of nowhere and takes everyone away! Huh. I mean, that’s one way to end a fight? They’re Team Rocket. Shouldn’t they be blasting away?

All the other Pokemon were proud of Rowlet. It did okay, I guess. Maybe this is one of those little things people are talking about.

Ash decided to leave Rowlet with the flock cause they were its friends and family.

But Rowlet wasn’t feeling it. The humans didn’t catch this, but I did cause I’m awesome (and I have a back camera port that gives me an almost 360 view!)

Toucannon caught it too, and told Rowlet to go with Ash. It flew right on Ash’s shoulder.

We turned around (I did too. I didn’t have too, but it gets awkward when everyone things you’re doing a butt thing. Funny, but awkward.)

(Edit... Huh. So Tumblr didn’t cut me off. It thought I was doing a tag thing. Whatever. I finished this one off here.)

#Good Rotomorning!#To be continued!#Pokeani RP

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ntrending · 6 years

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The devastating fire at Brazil’s National Museum illuminates a global problem

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/the-devastating-fire-at-brazils-national-museum-illuminates-a-global-problem/

The devastating fire at Brazil’s National Museum illuminates a global problem

A 12,000-year-old skull, one of the oldest ever found in the Western Hemisphere. Macaw feathers fashioned by the Inca into wedding attire. And a Chilean mummy found high and dry in the Atacama desert thousands of years after his death. These are just a few of the 20 million priceless artifacts damaged or destroyed in a fire at Brazil’s National Museum Sept. 2.

The true extent of the devastation has yet to be determined, though 90 percent of the artifacts are thought lost forever. Early news reports of the wreckage and images of the raging fire shocked an international community of curators and museum personnel, who took to public platforms like Twitter. But those on the ground knew the chaos had been a long time coming—and the truth is that many of our cultural treasures teeter on the verge of the same kind of disaster.

“This was a tragedy foretold,” Renato Rodriguez Cabral, who worked in the museum’s geology and paleontology department, told Reuters. The four years preceding the fire saw the funding for the museum decline by more than a third, according to the wire service. The 200-year-old building had no sprinkler system. And even after firefighters arrived, the hydrants near the museum were found mostly empty.

While it’s tempting to dismiss this event as a heartbreaking rarity, experts say other museums are also at risk. Behind even the most impressive, fireproof facades lies an uncomfortable truth: Museum science is a race against time. And budget cuts, staff reductions, and declining visitation in countries around the world, the United States included, aren’t making anyone’s job any easier.

“Accidents happen more regularly than most people think,” says Hernán Vazquez Miranda, a wildlife genomicist at the University of Nebraska, “it just doesn’t call this much attention.” In 2012, the 9/11 Museum & Memorial in Manhattan, as yet empty and unfinished, flooded when Hurricane Sandy swept through town. In 2015, another Brazilian museum, the Museum of the Portuguese Language in Sao Paulo, was destroyed by fire. And in 2016, India’s National Museum of Natural History suffered severe losses when a blaze ravaged its New Delhi complex.

To prevent such tragedies, modern museum facilities are designed with disaster in mind. The Whitney Museum of Contemporary Art, which opened in 2015, is elevated, waterproof, and equipped with a mobile wall to protect from storm surges, which cost an additional $10 million. (Construction totaled $220 million.) Across the country, in wildfire-ravaged Southern California, the Getty is considered one of the most fire-resilient buildings on the planet, with a million-gallon water tank and a smoke-proof air circulation system. (No word on the cost of resilience here, but upon completion in 1997, land acquisition, construction, and insurance reportedly topped $700 million).

Older facilities, meanwhile, must be painstakingly retrofitted. “A lot of times, these museums are in old buildings. And ours is no exception,” says Chase Mendenhall, assistant curator of birds at the Carnegie Museum of Natural History in Pittsburgh. “I would say the majority of the budget, and the majority of the meetings I go to, are about the upkeep, the checklists, and the legal aspects of maintaining and keeping priceless objects.” Sprinkler systems, evacuation plans, and fireproof safes may be a part of this process. (Ironically, the Brazilian government had finally apportioned $5 million for updates to the National Museum, including the installation of a fire-suppression system, in June. The funds had yet to be delivered.) Tools for climate control are important, too.

The wood of an Egyptian sarcophagus may be sensitive to humidity. Even plastic art, seemingly so resilient, can degrade with sunlight exposure. To keep temperature and moisture at optimal levels, museums require a reliable source of energy, and many keep backup generators for emergencies. These micro-grids are also essential in maintaining biological or genetic specimens, which are typically refrigerated or frozen.

But even the best-built structure isn’t enough to protect a collection from a ticking clock. Inside, curators must take pains to preserve in perpetuity. “There’s this fight against the laws of thermodynamics—against entropy,” says Mendenhall. Stuffed animals can fall prey to bug infestations, which lay eggs, defecate, and happily hitch a ride to new museums in traveling collections. New bird, animal, and even insect specimens must be carefully preserved, requiring staff skilled in taxidermy. And though many objects can be locked away in fireproof, temperature-controlled boxes behind the scenes, anything out on the viewing floor is exposed to disasters big and small. “We want these things to last forever,” Mendenhall says. “But nothing is going to last forever.”

That’s why many museums are working to digitize their collections, even as they painstakingly protect the physical specimens. While nothing can measure up to the leather-bound first edition copy of a book or an extinct animal carefully stuffed by a long-dead scientist, Mendenhall, for his part, takes the long view. If floods or fires don’t get the world’s museums, the death of the sun eventually will, he says. In the meantime, curators must describe, in painstaking detail, the physical properties of the objects in their collections; take pictures of these specimens and sometimes complex, multi-dimensional scans; analyze genomics wherever possible; and try to share their data with the larger research community. “In the deep, deep future, we’ll take this information with us,” he says. “So the effort is to code it, much like DNA, or the letters in a book, so that it can be stored somewhere much smaller than a museum.”

Though each day presents a new set of challenges, museum personnel continue to find an incredible sense of purpose in their work. “These items have become so valuable because of the story they carry with them,” Mendenhall says. “They have a destiny: they were caught hundreds of years ago on this island, they may have gone extinct since then, and all we have is some feathers, a beak, some feet, some notes. Maybe a recording of their calls, a photograph of their nest. And that’s it.”

This purpose only grows stronger as our species, Homo sapiens, permanently alters the natural world. “Unfortunately, now that we’re in the age of extinction—with climate change, deforestation, and human population expansion,” Vazquez Miranda says. “There may be species where the only record that ever existed are these specimens in museums.”

“When you need a birth certificate, you go to city hall. That’s where the evidence that you exist is,” he adds. “The evidence that the world around us exists, that’s what museums hold. When that goes away, you lose part of your identity.”

But passion isn’t enough to keep museums up and running. Brazil’s National Museum may have gone down in one spectacular fire, but its staff argues years of neglect and defunding provided the kindling. Unfortunately, similar political and fiscal problems are cropping up in facilities around the world.

Public spending on museums in the United Kingdom has declined by 13 percent over the last decade, according to a recent report from the Financial Times. Stateside, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which had long operated on a “pay as you wish” admission plan, began charging a veritable tourist tax—$25 for any visitor who doesn’t live in New York state—as of January 2018. And for its part, the National Endowment for the Arts reported that adult Americans’ attendance in everything from art museums to book readings has declined since 2002.

“Something of this magnitude, I think, is a wake-up call, for all museums, large and small, that this is why we need basic infrastructure to protect these collections,” says Vazquez Miranda. “We never know when these things are going to happen.”

Written By Eleanor Cummins

#Science

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thegrumpypenguin · 7 years

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Five hungry little mouths to feed! These barn swallows grew quickly!

I’ve been putting together these calendars for a few years now and up until this month’s choice for the Baby Boom! calendar I’d not only used nothing but Zoo animals, but I’d used only animals from the Toronto Zoo. This marks the first departure I’ve made from that, for not only does June feature a species on the public’s side of the barriers, but one that’s not actually in the Zoo’s “collection”: barn swallows.

How many are in there?

I shot the photo featured above on June 28 of last year, but it wasn’t the first day I visited the nest. The summer of 2016 featured an amazing abundance of barn swallows zipping about in great numbers in the area between the Canadian Domain and the African Savanna, so I had been looking in that region to find any indication of them brooding. I can’t for the life of me remember who first told me about this particular nest (if any of you out there remembers, please let me know and I will edit this post!) but I likely never would have found it on my on. Located in the penguin exhibit, this beautiful structure was stationed on what looked to be an electrical box near the ceiling at the bottom of the southern set of stairs leading to and from the underwater viewing area. Because of the architecture of the exhibit, I was able to stand on the other side of the wall protecting the open stairwell and lean on the top of it to steady my camera. This was crucial because the nesting area was quite dim, I was using a zoom lens, and the parents tended to move about rather quickly. I had a perfect vantage point from there and I took full advantage of it over the two weeks or so between when I first saw the nest – June 17, shown in the photo at left – and when the youngsters had all fully fledged in the first days of July.

Dinner time!

I wasn’t sure at first whether there were eggs or live chicks under whichever parent I saw in the nest (they shared the workload virtually 50-50 during the times I watched them) but I was in no rush to go anywhere so I decided to hang out for a bit. Soon I saw the second parent appear with something in its beak that was clearly intended to be food, and the first adult fly off from his or her perch. It was clear that at least some of the eggs had hatched – and probably all of them, or I’d have expected a quick transition from one adult to the other in sitting on the nest. I could hear more than one “peep peep” from inside the bowl of the structure, so there were multiple chicks for sure. However, for the first several trade-offs of the adults, the babies were so deep in the nest that I could not actually see the food being passed from one beak to the next. But eventually my patience paid off.

That tiny beak!!

Finally I was able to get a glimpse – and a photo! – of a tiny beak protruding just above the rim of the nest as the adult swallow deposited its treasure into the waiting mouth. It became quite clear the longer I watched these happenings that the young had been quite recently born; as a result, I had no trouble assigning them their “June” position in my calendar as there was absolutely no way they could have been 18 days old (or more) at that stage of development. If you want to work that out for yourself, have another look at the shot from the top of this page – taken 11 days after the one at left, here – and you’ll see how incredibly quickly they grew to adulthood, as is the case with most bird species.

Growing very quickly

I wasn’t able to return for nearly a week and when I finally did make it back to see the “little” family it had become considerably… not so “little” any more. Not only had the chicks themselves grown so much that all of them were clearly visible even at rest, but I could now see that there were five of them in that small space! Now, it doesn’t look so difficult for them in the photo here at right, but over time it got to the point where I couldn’t imagine how they all fit in there without suffocating each other. At this point, however, mostly what I saw was a roiling mass of feathers and five tiny off-white beaks patiently waiting for the seemingly never-ending meal train to pull back into the station. For a while I faced only into the alcove, camera constantly at the ready, and tried to begin my rapid-fire shooting the moment the mouths all opened in their cacophony of hunger. However, after ruining several dozen shots by focusing on the newly-arrived blur of the adult’s feathers, I began using a different tactic: I turned around and watched the various swallows darting about in the vast area behind me until one would soar quite high up and begin to dive toward the nest. This gave me just enough time to snap my head around and focus on the mouths before they opened so my camera wouldn’t be fooled by the bulk of the parent making its appearance. And in this way, I was finally able to capture another food transfer:

Perfect timing

The adult barn swallow even paused for a moment and posed for me beautifully:

A few chicks reacted too late to be fed

Before taking off again, leaving the pleading sounds of the five little ones behind:

Feed us!!

Won’t be around much longer

I did manage to get back the next day to kind of “hone” my new method of getting my shots of the activities in the nest, but then didn’t return until four days later, the day I shot the calendar picture. By that time, my skills were practically unnecessary, because not only were the youngsters so much easier to see but the adults lingered quite a bit longer when they arrived – though whether that was due to more confidence or supreme fatigue, I was not really sure. In any event, It was clear I wouldn’t get too many more chances to spend time with this family, as the rate at which these chicks were growing made it obvious they would be moving on to bigger things within a week or so. The photo here at left was taken June 29th; unbelievably, there was already a noticeable difference – particularly in colour and feather quality – from just the day before! But that’s nothing compared to the difference between this photo and the next one….

Babies no more

By July 4th, the now-“juvenile” chicks were priming themselves to “fly the coop.” Their colour would continue to fill in as they got a bit older; eventually their chest feathers would be as glorious as those of their parents. But that made little difference to their ability to fly, so this was the last day I saw all five of them in the nest together. I passed by on July 6th to find only three young swallows still in the nest (and I have not one clue why I didn’t take any photos); by July 8th they were all gone. It had been a short but immensely enjoyable experience, watching these five tiny balls of feathers and talons grow quickly into the stunningly beautiful creatures they were destined to become. There were still quite a lot of swallows flitting about in the trees and fields of that area of the Zoo; I occasionally went back there to see if I could find any with slightly less colouration that I might recognize as “my” swallows, but without any luck – likely because of the speed at which they travel.

Family #2

Sarah and I went away to a friend’s cottage for a few days in mid-July, but when I came back I discovered that another swallow’s nest – which I had discovered in late June in the eaves of the roof near the washrooms at the top of the Domain but had assumed to be an old one – was actually sporting some “babies” of its own. I clearly found them very late in their growth cycle and don’t really know if there were more than the four you see here originally. I watched a couple of adults come and go on this day, July 20th, but was never really in a good position to grab any shots of them. When I next visited this nest, on the 22nd, there were only three chicks in it; four days later they had disappeared as well. I’ve been back to both nests this year but as of May 10th – the last time I’ve been able to check so far – there had been no sign of any new activity. I’m anxious to get back inside the Zoo and check to see if these nests get reused or not!

Next month features an animal who was born while I was at the Zoo and almost while I was watching, but….well, you’ll have to wait until next month for the details! In the meantime, please enjoy this collage of barn swallow photos. And thanks, as always, for stopping by!

2017 “Baby Boom!” Calendar – June Story I've been putting together these calendars for a few years now and up until this month's choice for the

#Animals #Baby #Baby Boom #Barn swallows #Calendar #June #Swallows #Zoo

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