#you may be smaller than an ant compared to me

[robotgirlservos]

its a good thing I spent so much time in rain world running through the shoreline, taking pearls to moon. I ended up having to blitz through the entire section in one cycle as hunter cuz I wasn't sure if I'd get a cycle 0

I spent the rest of my time just sitting with her. I couldn't tell her but I hope she knows I'd do it again.

[bogleech]

REVIEWING THIS WHOLE BAG OF RUBBER BUGS:

I mentioned recently that bags of cheap rubber bugs are harder to come by in real stores, but that there are a few options for them online. I just received this set from Aliexpress that’s currently only $4 with free shipping, you might even find the same set cheaper since there’s multiple listings for it, but I can verify this source is using an accurate photo and I am now going to REVIEW THEM:

SPIDER: obligatory, all-purpose spider, ambiguous species, noodly legs, minimal paint application, 3/5

COCKROACH: nice silky black coloration on the back, tan on the underside, rather haphazard leg pose, I like it but in terms of objective quality it’s unfortunately a 2/5 compared to other fake roaches and even to other bugs in this set.

DRAGONFLIES: so this set is definitely pieced together from what were once multiple different rubber bug sets, but I can also confirm that you always get the same selection I’m reviewing, which includes several redundancies. You get both a large and small dragonfly with entirely different sculpts, the smaller one more accurately sculpted but not as dynamically painted! Both I’d give a 3/5, adequate dragonflies

ORTHOPTERA: you get a cricket AND two different styles of grasshopper! The big, detailed black and red cricket is crudely painted but very unique, 3.5/5. The small grasshopper is cute and inoffensive, barely painted, 3/5. The large grasshopper is a 4/5 for me because while I’ve seen plenty like it, it has a really nice gradient from lime green to a darker grassier green that I just find very pleasant.

BEES: two very differently sculpted bees, and they both use a sparkly metallic gold with black stripes. Both deserve a 4/5.

ANTS: collectively I’m gonna say these are a 3.5/5, on their own very plain but I like that together you have a dull yellow-tan ant with comical googly eyes and a bigger, more ominous shiny black ant with spooky red eyes. I like that the black ant is also tied with a couple others as the largest bug in the set. It’s actually only slightly larger than the real life Giant Amazonian ant, Dinoponera, which is also entirely black.

MANTIDS: excellent choice for another double bug, I like the simple cheapness of the little one with its awkwardly sculpted forelegs but to fair it’s a 2/5 compared to the 4/5 of the larger, red-eyed mantis which has more of that “sparkly” paint style!

SCORPIONS: the only other arachnids in the set, and it’s amazing they included two different scorpions but only one spider. Trust me when I say that’s the most radical maverick decision a rubber bug set has ever made in the history of mankind. The small red scorpion is alright, a 3 I guess. The larger one has only six legs which is not accurate (the claws of a scorpion are modified mouthparts, not legs!) but I can’t look at its little black eyes and not want to cry so 5/5 actually.

CICADA: not terribly common in these! Charming, chunky brown cicada, though the thorax piece is so transparent you can always see the hole it plugs into. At one time, this sculpt may have been part of a higher quality set that actually painted over this design flaw. 4/5 regardless.

FLY: there’s a pattern here in which almost every flying insect in the set has a gold-brown base, which I’m not a big fan of. Sadly I’m overall neutral on this fly, normally my favorite of all the basic insects, perhaps because it looks just as much like some sort of wasp. It’s definitely a fly due to having only one pair of wings, and plenty of flies look exactly like this, but I’d just be a bigger fan if it was a chunkier, larger-eyed blowfly or horsefly. 2.5/5

UNKNOWN: there are actually several insects this could possibly represent including a few Lepidoptera and Hymenoptera, but the one insect it most closely resembles is an adult caddisfly. I like it, but it’s difficult to fairly judge it with no certain identification so 3/5 has to do.

HAWKMOTH: stellar choice! I’ve seen only one cheap-grade plastic hawkmoth in my whole life, actually! Several hawkmoths are even clear-winged, though those usually still have dark markings around the wing edges. Would’ve been more accurate to some real species if they just cast the wings in a solid color, but that’s a trivial criticism. 5/5

WASP: the wasp is SO good. The paint on this one is skewed funny but that’s fine, the green of the abdomen pops really well and I love the grouchy red eyes. 5/5

CATERPILLAR: larvae are so rarely included in these, and when they are, they’re often an incredibly plain segmented tube that doesn’t look like anything in particular, or a recolor of a generic caterpillar I’ve seen several times before. This caterpillar sculpt is actually new to me and nicely shaped, with a tapering body and accurate limbs. It is however a rather stiff hunk of plastic, not as rubbery as the others, and honestly this is the one you would want rubberiest! Still a 5/5 for its inclusion at all.

BEETLE: beetles are the most abundant, diverse insect group and the most common rubber bug toy after spiders, so it’s another bold move that they include only one in this whole set and it isn’t even one of the more recognizable, more famous beetles. On its own merits as just a rubber beetle it’s a 3/5, but its metallic blue stands out so nicely in this set, and the sculpt appears to be some sort of blister beetle, a rare choice and a very cool (but dangerous! Don’t touch them!!!) insect group so 5/5

MOSQUITO: mosquitoes are another of my favorite animal groups, and as one of the world’s most abundant, most recognized, most controversial insects you’d think they’d be a standard bug toy already, but this is only the third plastic mosquito design I’ve ever seen in my entire long life! It’s brown, unpainted, dinky and bent funny. 10/5

[jonnysinsectcatalogue]

Smaller Yellow Ant - Lasius claviger

Before covering the nuptial flights of this subterranean dwelling insect colony, I have some announcements for the blog. Firstly, the blog's text highlight color has finally been fixed. Text should now be highlighted in orange; give it a try. Secondly, I'm finally taking the step to enter YouTube, start a channel* and share these insects there. I hope you'll join me in this new venture. There will be an additional post covering this, but in the meantime you may refer to this blog link for additional information. Finally, yesterday was this blog’s 5 Year Anniversary! I feel quite sheepish in hindsight that the highlight color took 5 years to fix, but I'm not much of a programming whiz. My focus is, and always will be on the insects I find and to share the photography and videography I make with all of you, my dearest readers. Wow! 5 years. What a journey it has been. I'm incredibly grateful for all my followers (both old and new), the readers who frequent my blog, and the fellow bug-hunters on this website that have inspired me! I sincerely thank you! Furthermore, none of this would've happened or continued without the contributions, encouragement and support from my closest friends and my family. To them, I give all the thanks in the world and my deepest appreciation! And now, let's talk about Ants, nuptial flights and usurping queens! While tidying the yard due to the weather beginning to change , I was greeted by a flurry of winged alates emerging from the ground near a collection of buried backyard stones.

These images don't do the sheer volume of winged Ants justice, but there must've been hundreds emerging from their nest! It's a mad rush to spread out and secure a colony before the cold sets in (more on that to come). The backyard plays host to many Ant species, but this was the first time I've seen these before. False Honey Ants came to mind first since they don't mind the cold, but with no size disparity (and timing of emergence) it was clear that these alates were something else. The lemony-yellow color of the wingless worker Ants provided a clue, and I was directed immediately to the genus Lasius, more commonly known as Lemon Ants or Citronella Ants. They are named for more than just their colorful body; they can defend themselves and rouse a colony defense whose fragrance is similar to the scent of lemon. Though it may smell pleasant to us, I'm not sure if these Ants would taste very lemony. With the risks from bites, formic acid and soil sanitation conditions, I can't recommend you eat them; observing them should be enough. While I observed them, the scent was in action, and while the alates where docile and airborne, the workers are alert and I did get nipped a few times while poking near their colony's entrances. Compared to the worker Ants, the winged alates are much larger and appear to have more defined sclerotization, but they didn't seem inclined to bite me.

Naturally the winged Ants are stored up with fat reserves to prepare the young queens for initial building of a colony and the first wave of offspring that will tend the queen. Why so many alates though? Well, the answer is one even I didn't expect: this specie of Citronella Ant reportedly usurps (parasitizes technically speaking) the colonies of of other Citronella Ants that have already established nests slightly earlier in the year! Since they don't make their own colonies and competition is fierce, many individuals are born to grant the best opportunity possible to find a colony, infiltrate it, depose the queen inconspicuously and take her place! It is madness, but with winter on the way, it's every Ant queen for herself! However, it is reported that these Ants can forage during the colder months, similar to the False Honey Ant, assuming of course the specie I chose is accurate. I've ultimately settled on L. claviger as the time of emergence lines up (right on the edge of October) within the North American environment and from the sheer number of alates in flight. Distinguishing between species is very technical without an close-up observation of individuals, consideration of range and emergence flight, but identification down to the genus is easy if you smell lemons. If you wish to search for them, check under large stones or in the soil beneath rotting stumps. Since I know they're in the yard now, I'll see if I can share future posts with foraging Ants searching for colony provisions. Yellow coloration should make them easy to spot, but they may stay underground.

Pictures were taken on September 30, 2023 with a Google Pixel 4. Thank you all for an interesting 5 years, and for more years to come!

*Note: The channel was deliberately started so as to coincide with the anniversary of this blog. This makes tracking the anniversaries of both platforms much easier. Now onto the next media publishing step...

[thegreatlibraryfangirl]

I posted 1,231 times in 2022

That's 264 more posts than 2021!

198 posts created (16%)

1,033 posts reblogged (84%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@gay-otlc

@thegreatlibraryfangirl

@rosalind-of-arden

@solreefs

@orangeandpeppertrees

I tagged 647 of my posts in 2022

Only 47% of my posts had no tags

#the great library - 294 posts

#wolfe/santi - 44 posts

#christopher wolfe - 33 posts

#whump - 26 posts

#fanart - 24 posts

#dario santiago - 21 posts

#asking things - 21 posts

#glain wathen - 16 posts

#jess brightwell - 15 posts

#the great library fanart - 14 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#i have a truly excessive number of thoughts regarding darios betrayal scene and his multiple rationales and the way that khalila reacts

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

if the great library characters became animals, what would they be and why??

(I have seen your previous ask, it's epic, but my brain is currently refusing to answer it, apologies)

ok so, easiest first:

Wolfe

Crow.

Why? Because of 'Stormcrow', of course. Also:

They are fairly solitary, usually found alone or in pairs, although they may form occasional flocks.

Source RPSB website

Fun fact btw, Gandalf is referred to as Stormcrow, and this article has a lot of stuff about Gandalf being seen as a harbinger of chaos and destruction that works very well both for Wolfe's personal circumstances and his job confiscating originals.

Rather than wolf as an alternative, I could see Wolfe as a black panther (melanistic leopard).

Again, a loner animal, but this is more playing off Jess' obsession with pointing out that Wolfe is lean and athletic in physique (S&P has it like 3 times, other people say various things about Wolfe's size throughout the series).

Santi

Dog. Of some huge, imposing and loyal type. Suggest breeds for me in reblogs or something. Google informs me there is an Italian livestock guardian dog breed called Maremmano, so that'll do for now. Or a mastiff, maybe.

Jess

Ok so before I even think of anything at all - Thomas canonically compares Jess to an otter, in Sword and Pen. How very heterosexual of you, Thomas. So we have to consider this!

Other than that, thank you Thomas, I think Jess is a dog too, for how much he enjoys affection and the exercise of the High Garda Specifically a Jack Russell terrier (small, fearless, English in origin, incredibly persistent).

Jess himself might identify as a rat, as a fuck-you to both Dario and his father. The brown rat, which is actually apparently nicknamed "street rat" according to Wikipedia.

Note, the Wikipedia article on black rat gave me: "The black rat also has a scraggly coat of black fur, and is slightly smaller than the brown rat." paging @wheel-of-whimsy can you headcanon the Brightwell twins as these two rat types??

Khalila

I should really have put her first tbh, as the most solid one of all; I headcanon her as the blackfooted cat. It's one of the tiniest wildcat species, and it is known for being particularly fierce when it defends itself. Tiny predator Khalila. I will say no more.

Dario

Reluctantly, I'm actually going to call Dario a lion. Like, a lion who's bad at fighting. Royal associations obviously, needs a group around him to survive. Except he'd be bad at being the head of a pride for aforementioned fighting reason. Dario as Scar, is what I'm saying here. That or he's just a standard pampered housecat. Take your pick. (Note, the domestic cat is actually much more social than people think!)

Maybe he's a wasp. Stabby stabby, underappreciated lol.

Glain

Glain is a difficult one. Argh. Suggestions welcome. Soldier ant??? That seems unfair. Ink and Bone Glain is a bit of a honey badger tbh, but idk about later. Is she a lioness, actually?? Quite possibly. Part of a family team, killing machine.

Thomas

Thomas' two main traits are Big and Genius. (Yes I know there's obviously more to him than that but we're simplifying). Therefore he's an elephant.

Morgan

I know I always say this every time a personality/categorisation thing comes up, but god damn it Morgan is hard to do. Her entire arc imo, start to finish, is based around not wanting to be enslaved, ended up enslaved anyway, and then being a martyr. What does she enjoy doing? We don't know. What are her skills, hobbies, characteristics other than 'gets Jess' dick hard'?? Smoke and Iron and to a degree Sword and Pen does give us more insight into her, but only based around "How do I get out of this?"

OK, so creative, intelligent, ridiculously determined. Also magic powers. Idk. Grey parrot.

21 notes - Posted July 22, 2022

#4

Kahlila and Dario rock up with their fancy swords and Santi's like "No. You're doing this whole combat thing wrong. We're going to be running laps and here's a gun."

Oh definitely 😂 dario would be devastated 😂

though I must point out that Khalila is canonically proficient with a gun and at least one of her impressive kill count in the series is from a gun.

Wolfe can throw knives too, wonder if santi needed to have this conversation with him too?

21 notes - Posted July 30, 2022

#3

I have no brain but like, there's definitely a fascinating attitude towards religious thinking, external locus of control, seeing things from his life partner's point of view idk, about that bit in S&P when Santi asked Isis to help protect Wolfe

23 notes - Posted December 18, 2022

#2

Caine wrote a whole 5 book series where at no point do characters cook or visibly provide themselves with food in any way. I aspire to that level of 'details don't matter'.

35 notes - Posted June 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

This is Writing, right???

49 notes - Posted August 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[weirdmarioenemies]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! BOOGITY BOOGITY BOO

Beware... it is time once again for a post about something so frightening... in fact, one of the most concentrated entities of fright in all the Mario franchise! Behold...

Name: The Luigi’s Mansion logo

Debut: Luigi’s Mansion

This logo is made of GHOSTS! Nearly every letter, a ghost! We are so lucky that they are frozen in time, placated as they neatly form a stylish logo, but don’t forget that these are still ghosts, and they would love nothing more than to giggle at you! Will you giggle along? Let’s meet each of these ghosts, shall we?

L likes to take it easy and relax, which is why it is always seen sitting. All of these ghosts are cute, but this one in particular is acute, since it’s a bit smaller than a 90 degree angle! It may be the “leader” of this logo, but it is very casual, only a leader because they legally needed someone to fill that role, and everyone was comfortable letting it have it.

U has some very funky anatomy! The little nub on the bottom right is the base that it uses to stick to substrate, like an anemone, and also like an anemone, it can detach and reattach elsewhere. Branching off of this basal section is a long, curving neck, like a camel’s! U is so very good at looking around things.

I is just one of a set of mischievous triplets! The first one is the antsy, restless one, ready to jump about at any moment; the second is the most calm, remaining focused on the situation at hand; and the third is quiet, yet the most observant of all. They all play off of each other very well, and obviously boast something no one else here does, which is floating heads!

G is the first of these ghosts who has a mouth, letting out a ghostly wail at all times! In fact, it is strangely conventional, if you choose to interpret it that way, since it even has a tail! More shaped like a tadpole than a traditional ghost, but have you seen a ghost? Can you prove they are not shaped like tadpoles?

Apostrophe and S are really getting on my nerves here. They both coordinated that they would close their eyes for the big logo photo shoot! They know how important this was to every other ghost present, and thought it would be fun to sabotage it for a laugh. Let’s just move on, please.

M is marvelous! I love M! M might be my favorite, in fact! M has two big limbs that it walks about on, but its face is so low to the ground, and so low compared to its elbows especially! It is a gentle giant, and just wants to see what’s going on down there. What’s that? Ants down there? Delightful! M will watch them.

A is a strange little creature. It likes to trick us into thinking it also has a ghostly mouth like G, but it really has essentially the same anatomy as U, simply resting its longer neck on its shorter butt area! During the filming of this logo, the crew was pretty worried no one would fit their vision for the “A” character, but thankfully this clever specter came through with this little trick. What a treat!

Speaking of the same anatomy as U, N was thought to be the exact same species as U when its bones were discovered, but by consulting their spirits, we can see that N actually flips the entire anatomy vertically! This would have been more easy to deduce in hindsight if ghost eye sockets fossilized, but they do not. Like M, N has two limbs, but instead of slowly roaming the land, N uses its legs to gallop at high speeds!

Even though the previous S was a troublesome prankster, don’t let that cloud your judgement of the second S. This one just doesn’t have eyes! It’s an earthworm! The casting agency was getting pretty desperate for another wiggly ghost at this point, they just took what they could get.

O is the wailingest ghost in the west! When O died, and it arrived at the ghostly form customization facility, it said “Not much for me, thank you! I just want to wail.” And so, O is little more than the face of a ghost, but do you need any more? No! You do not.

Finally, we have the last N, and sorry that this one also has eyes closed. But it’s just had a very long day. This humble little N is responsible for ending the whole title, and that’s a big responsibility! It’s not a popular, charismatic leader like L on the other side, either. People like and respect N, sure, but they sort of underestimate it. It’s sort of treated like a child, even though every letter here is the same age, and this logo is in fact their class yearbook photo. So to N, getting to be the last one in the logo is a big deal! The other letters take notice, too, and things are looking up for N! It’s exhausting, though, and I really can’t blame it for needing to take a nap. N has made a lot of progress in its personal growth, and it can rest as much as it needs.

Wow. What a logo! A logo that is a bunch of some guys, I love it! Surely you can’t improve upon perfection, right?

You can! By adding additional funny guys! Get a load of this 2. Very nicely stylized, especially compared to the letters, making for an even more interesting creature!It looks like it’s got an anteater-like snout on the end of its big head, and a wonderful ghostly tail! 2 is like the team pet, an entity that the letters summoned in hopes of causing mischief, but it turned out to be a big lovable doofus with a heart of gold. Unfortunately, nothing about the original letters has changed here, so no comment there! Now, surely you can’t improve upon beyond perfection, right?

It’s up to interpretation! If you thought the one thing missing from that logo was edibility, then this one’s for you! You can eat this logo.

You may notice that here, each and every letter now has eyes, even those lacking them from before! HOWEVER. This does not change anything about our previously established cast of characters, because this is not them! This is all made of Goo, just like Gooigi. This is the Gooigi to the original logo’s Luigi. This logo’s name shall be Gooigi’s Mansion Logo.

There is even a real Ghostly logo, used as a preliminary version, so we can safely say that 3 is a real ghost character! It looks like 2 has grown up, now with a more robust tail that it has more adept control over! There is character development in these logos!

Now, would I eat the Luigi’s Mansion 3 logo? I hate to say it, but I would not. It LOOKS good, it would definitely be fun to eat, and in fact reminds me of the gelatin letters and numbers that I had from grocery stores when I was little, which were always delightful! Unfortunately, Goo is coffee flavored, and I do not like that flavor, so I would not eat this logo, and I would not eat Gooigi, either. I do wonder about that 3, though! It’s orange instead of green, suggesting a different flavor. Green in no way communicates “coffee”, so this could really be any flavor. It could be pumpernickel.

And finally, as a little bonus, let’s talk about the new chunk of letter ghost characters introduced in the Dark Moon logo. Trick or treat!

TRICK! These letters do not have eyes! Happy Halloween!!!

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: camilo madrigal x gn reader

req: yes | headcanons

@choicee: i wanna share this funny scenario i thought of lmao- okay so remember how Cami shifted into felix once? BUT SMALLER? what if YN just deals with a really mini cami at times, he just chills on their shoulder or something, just torments the hell outta them or whatever cami would do. OR would he like make himself just the slightest bit taller than YN to irritate them like, aha no idea what ur talking about i’ve always been this tall

reader details: Reader is naturally taller than Camilo, with Cami being an estimated height of 5′ 4″ or 162 cm.

a/n: reader knows spanish, he/they pronouns for Camilo. People that don’t care about their height wouldn’t be irritated, but I’m not people. I take pride in my height! On the nose, there. Fic was really quick to write hm.

The first time Camilo turns into a mini human, you are understandably shocked.

“You are the size of my finger.”

“Yeah!” He hugs the finger you’ve put beside him for comparison, “So?”

“So?” You scoff, “You’re fine with that?”

They reply with even more enthusiasm in their squeaky little voice, “Yeah!”

As much as Camilo wants to surprise you sometime by sneakily hopping onto your clothes as a mini human and popping out randomly, he really can’t. They may be tiny, but you can still feel them. He’s accepted it by now.

Whenever he’s sluggish, lazy, tired or he simply wants to chill on you, he hops onto your shoulder for a ride.

“Cruisin’ along?”

“Yeah.”

They have, 100%, avoided chores this way.

He’d also like being thrown up into the air, like a makeshift trampoline. It’s pretty fun, plus there’s no danger to it! He can transform mid air! Okay, maybe if he lands on his back or something it’ll hurt, but he’s got feet for a reason.

“Trust me, I’m fine, I’m like a cat! I’ll land on my feet.”

“If you say so.”

Camilo shouts when you throw them up in the air, “Woohoo!” and his arms are high and flailing. “Hey you heard about that thing that ants don’t get hurt when they fall? Wanna test that?”

They turn even smaller, so small that you’ve lost sight of them, “CAMILO? CAMILO I CAN’T SEE YOU!”

He’s fineee.

As for getting taller, well…

“Cami.”

“What is it?”

“Are you taller than before?”

“Pfft,” He laughs, “No, no, of course not.” You can see through all his lies, not that he cares to drop the act. “I’ve always been this tall!”

“Mhm,” Your stare becomes blank as it lands on them. “really?”

“Absolutely.” He’s radiating with confidence and not planning to back down any time soon.

The next time you see them that day, they seem to have grown taller again. “Cami, you’re nearly my height now.”

“Am I?” He looks down at his body as if he could tell that way, “Or have you shrunk?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m not the one with shapeshifting powers.”

The next time you see him, he’s also taller; same goes for the next and the time after that. They've finally surpassed your height a noticeable amount, though only noticeable if you know this has been going on.

“Camiloooo?”

He answers smugly, with a smirk on his face, “¿Sí, mi amor?”

“You’re taller than me.”

“Whaaat? Pfft,” They wave their hand at you dissmisively, “No, that’s ridiculous, mi cielo! ¿Siempre he sido tan alto, mkay?” (I've always been this tall, mkay?)

“Right. Yeah, yeah, sure. I’ll go ask Pepa.”

“Mamá va decir nothing’s changed too!” (Mom will say)

Pepa watches her son from her spot beside you. With no one to compare him to, she’s having a hard time seeing if anything’s off. “Hmm, I don’t know, (y/n).” She’s got her finger resting against her chin and eyes in a squint as she observes. “I can’t tell.”

You groan, “Fine, fine, Cami!”

“¿Sí, vida?”

“¡Ven aca!” (Come here!)

Camilo’s got that smug look on his face again as he stands next to you, “What is it that you need me for, hmm?”

“Just stand next to me. You know what I need you for.”

“You need my company-?”

“No, no, Camilo. That’s not it.”

Pepa’s still squinting. You stand next to each other for a few minutes, Camilo moving their head this and that way to make it even harder for their mom to think over your heights. “Mamá, apurate por fa. Tengo tareas.” Here he is, acting all innocent. (Mom, hurry up please. I have chores.)

“No, I don’t see anything.”

Camilo gives you a neat little smile before heading off on their merry way. You swear he’s got a pep in his step.

“Pepa, I swear if you’re in on this…”

“What’s ‘this’?”

[cloudninetonine]

Yo yo! Top Gun anon here and first I’m so happy people are seeing the v i s i o n. To add to it and a bit of what others said imma put it in a list because I have so many ideas but I don’t wanna overwhelm!

1) To play on the cozy player/stronk chain thing and the gravity of the initial rift/difference between the two parties: reader with softer hands/less scaring than the group. Why? Not just for the fluffiness of hand comparisons (and the “must protect”) but for the realization that they’re the farthest thing from what these fools got going on.

They lift up a sword, and I dunno how rough the handles are but these guys definitely have no problems with it. Yet for player it’s much rougher than anything they’re used to. Holding onto it for so long could be painful. Laying in their types of (most likely) makeshift sleeping bags? Coarse fabrics=uncomfortable. Mid rant funny thought about how the chain my see player as “fussy” or something along those lines but instead they’ve barely ever, if at all, came in contact with this much extended “roughing” of the “it”. Lowkey this makes me think of how cozy and nice things can be now in comparison to then.

2) Same-ish point but Stronk chain? Angry player being fireman carried by whichever link away from (danger/mischief/etc) and just hitting his back, not hard but enough where a normal person give up and set em down, but he isn’t even phased. Just calling over his shoulder like “Are we done?🤨 Got it out your system?”

3)Angst warning that plays on Player being more affected by the carnage and battle: That scene from monsters inc where Sully is forced to scare and thus terrifies Boo? That but Player accidentally stumbles into battle because of Dink let’s say. A Link (let’s say Hyrule bc peak angst) whips around and Player has a sword pointed inches from their eyes. A bloody face and stony/wild eyes meet wide and watery ones. Player tries to play it off, they know it was an accident/misunderstanding but…they can’t help but to be on edge for just a little while. And Hyrule/the Link you choose? Ooooh boy.

4) I will later address the Top Gun Au when I get this all out my system because bayBE these ideas are FLOWING?? What’s the discord link again??/hj

Bonus: I know I glossed over the softness of hand comparisons but I gotta be honest the idea of Player’s skin being softer, smoother, less blemished or whatever sparking up a bit of teasing within the group. Maybe it’s just the basics of lighthearted digs at the idea of them in a fight or something as simple as them not being accustomed to handling such heavy weaponry. Let’s say Wars gets up first and takes their hand to compare it to his own battle ridden one. It starts off with the old “taunt”, laughter from the rest (including an “angry” Player) then as the rest carry on he zones out, thinking about how their hand is so much smaller in comparison. So much more…delicate? No no, that couldn’t be the word. Though when put next to him of all people it wouldn’t be far fetched. I’d carry on with this bonus but I don’t wanna make a whole mini fic in your asks GCHBYCHB but I SHALL expound farther on these ideas and more if y’all want because I have been STARTED.

Okay, anon, I would love all of these ideas expanded on I love them a lot!

Player being more soft compared to the others just brings a whole storm of ideas, as are their materials. I think you may have or someone else did mention it in another ask where one of the boys steal Player's clothes because of how comfy they are and I think it's a perfect idea! Them relaxing in Player's hoodie, their eyes heavy because wow this is the most softest thing they've ever felt! Then in comparison there's Player struggling because why is this fucking tunic so itchy and horrible??? Man alive is there fire ants woven into their clothes?????

Also Player just being carried in frustration would be hilarious?? Player snarks Legend and Hyrule has to carry them away while they blow up flustered in frustration because this shouldn't be happening! Even if they're heroes and buffer!

Now Player being much softer to those topics. I can definitely see Hyrule maybe being a frantic fighter as he's dealt with close calls many of times! Imagine how heartbroken he would be, seeing Player's horrified expression, stumbling back away from his sword and looking at him with a hurt that makes him want to drop to his knees and beg for their forgiveness. He wouldn't want them to brush it off, not when he can tell that they're obviously still struggling but he knows pushing the subject wouldn't work in his favour either.

ALSO WAITING FOR THE TOP GUN AU but of course take your time

[r0z0]

I heard you wanted requests

I'M SO SORRY I'M SURE YOU'RE TIRED OF SEEING ME HERE

but since you asked for asks may we get headcanons on how the La Squadra men or just your favorites feel about a s/o being tiny 😗 I'm personally a solid 5 feet tall so I'm pretty small compared to most adults *tear* so I'm just curious as to if you think they'd be into that 🌟

Risotto Nero

"Ant".

Prosciutto

Doesn't mind. As long as he can see you without microscope everything is perfect.

Calls you his "little bag pet" like the small dogs you can carry around in bags.

Pesci

He is tall. Not very tall, but taller than most of La Squadra members and people on the streets. Having a short s/o makes him fell smaller and better.

Melone

As long as you want to create an offspring with him...

Illuso

Calls you cute nicknames like "micro organism" and "bacteria". Sometimes he makes you wear very high heels, he wants to show people how tall and masculine he is despite how he looks.

Ghiaccio

"Kid" or "grow up" are the things that he usually says to you. He's always mocking your height, but he is medium height.

Formaggio

Very chill about it.

"As long as I don't look like a pedophile..."

[fandomsareforlife]

A is For Affection

Summary: Brad has been acting weird, and Lloyd wants to find out why.

Relationships: Brad/Lloyd

Characters; Brad Tudabone, Lloyd Garmadon

Triggers: Implied/Reference Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia

Notes: So I wrote this in August, and I meant to post this on Valentine's Day. I am just a master procrastinator. I hope y'all enjoy, and you can give me feedback at any time.

Read On AO3

It was a bright and sunny day. All seem well to the outside observer, and maybe everything was all and well for some.

But not for two children at Darkley's school for bad boys.

Let us take a closer look at what is going on with those two, shall we?

"Brad, why don't you ever take off your shirt in gym class?" asked Lloyd Garmadon, the son of an evil tyrant Lord Garmadon. A not-so-innocent blonde, who while knowing of the world's horrors, didn't want them to strike his friend. He may pretend to be evil, but he just wanted the world to be kind to him for once, and didn't care how he did it.

"Why do you wanna know?" a tall, at least compared to Lloyd, burnette, who was known as Brad Tudabone, heir to the Tudabone clan, replied. Brad, who unlike his friend, truly didn't want to take over the world or hurt people. He just wanted to plant his flowers.

Brad's voice betrayed his fear, which he was trying so hard to hide.

Lloyd, noticing the fear in his best, and only, friend, narrowed his eyes. He was already suspicious that something was amiss, but the fear in Brad's voice made it so he felt his fears were confirmed.

"Because, your my best friend. My only friend. And I don't know if that means something to you, but to me, that means you have no one to fight for my loyalty. It means that you are the brightest star in my whole fucking sky. It means that you are my whole world. That also means I will do my freaking best to make sure you aren't hurt, and if you are, that you have the knowledge that I care. Does that make sense to you?" Lloyd explained, his voice gradually getting louder from a whisper to just below a yell. Tears were streaking down his face, soaking his uniform, but neither boy cared.

Brad was taken aback by the smaller boy's admittance of his feelings. Generally speaking, certain feelings, like love or compassion, were discouraged at their school. If found that you had these feelings for anyone, you were usually subjected to some form of bullying, some more than others. Some students had even been expelled for their feelings.

Despite the two having the forbidden, at least in their mind, feelings for each other, they had never discussed it in any depth before. They had barely even prod them in the safety of their minds. But now, they were being forced to confront them head on.

Brad sighed softly, and looked Lloyd straight in the eye, his amber eyes meeting emerald.

"It does. I don't know if you know this, but you also mean something to me. I put fire ants in your bed, so I had an excuse to check up on you, after everything with them was settling down. So that I could teach you something. I do have a reason as to why I don't want to take off my shirt in gym class, but I don't know if you will still be my friend after I tell," Brad admitted, trembling slightly. He was quickly caught off guard, when two thin but strong arms wrapped around his sides. Lloyd Garmadon, the son of one of Ninjago's most feared villain's, was hugging him.

Hesitantly raising his arms around Lloyd, Brad embraced his friend, no best friend, while crying into his shoulder. The two didn't know how long they stayed in that position, on Lloyd's bed in their shared dorm room, comforting the other. All they know was that for right now, they had each other, and that was good enough for them.

"You know that I won't hate you, for whatever the reason you don't take your shirt off, right?" Lloyd whispered, his voice raw with tears.

"Yeah, but you'll treat me differently. You'll think I'm weak. I'm weak. So why would I want that?" Brad replied, his voice trembling.

In response, Lloyd squeezed his friend even harder, and whispered in his ear, " I will never think you are weak. Please, you can either show me or tell me. Just let me in."

Brad huffed, but scooted away from his friend, with a whine from Lloyd. He started to unbutton his uniform dress shirt, then pulled it over his head. Brad looked down, too ashamed to look Lloyd in the eye.

Lloyd gasp, at what he saw. Brad's torso was covered in scars, and Lloyd was sure it wasn't the only place there were scars. The worst was definitely a circle around his heart, it was painfully someone carved around it. There were numerous bruises and cuts also, almost as many as there were scars,, both big and small, in an array of colors. It was like someone tried to make a collage on Brad's chest. It was gruesome to say the least.

"Brad, w-who did this?" Lloyd asked, dread filling his stomach.

Brad curled into himself and replied, "My parents. They found out something they didn't like about me, so they punished me for it. It's fine, I deserved it"

Lloyd was flabbergasted. Here was his best friend, his favorite person, admitting that what Lloyd considered abuse was just a punishment to Brad.

Lunging over the bed, Lloyd grasped the taller male, hugging the life out of him.

"Whatever the hell they found out, it doesn't mean this," here Lloyd gestured at the numerous scars, "is okay."

Brad looked up at his friend and sighed. "Lloyd, they, they found out, that, that I like boys. Now, normally this would be okay with them, but they found out that...I fell for someone they didn't approve of, romantically, and not just sexually. They didn't want me to be with him as anything more that friends-with-benefits, so they tried to beat it out of me. They did so much shit to try and make me not want to be in a relationship, that I'm terrified of just being near a guy, you know?" Quickly embracing himself for what he considered the inevitable punch, he did not expect his friend to start sobbing

"Sorry, sorry for crying, it's just that I also like guys, so the fact that you thought I would hate you is kind of shocking, ya know?"

The burette was shocked. He did not expect his friend to have any interest in males. Although in hindsight, it made sense, considering he spent more time ranting and raving about Gene than about the looks or personality of the girls.

Lloyd suddenly shot up from the bed, and ran into the closet in their room, appearing to search for something. He quickly turned around and lifted up some flowers. They were blue like Brad's eyes.

"Well, I've been meaning to do this for a while now, but didn't know if you would be offended or no. But now I have no such fear. Brad, ever since I met, I really, really, really like you. Like, like you like you. As in the way I thought you like girls. But now that I know you like guys, I decided to seize the day, and ask you out. Brad Tudabone, would you be, at the very least, secret boyfriends?" Here Lloyd extended the flowers to his friend, with such a hopeful face, Brad's heart broke a little.

Brad gently pushed himself off the bed onto the floor, and grasp the blonde's chin, forcing him to look straight into his eyes.

"Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon, I would be honored to be your super duper ultra secret boyfriend. And for the record, I love the flowers," Brad smirked, looking almost like his normal self.

And with that proclamation, Brad leaned toward his newly proclaimed boyfriend and kissed Lloyd on the cheek, a true smile on both the boys faces.

The two boys knew that if they were ever to be found out, there would be hell to pay, but in the moment, they could have cared less, as long as the other was around.

[ask-an-aussie]

Aussie Wildlife FAQ

So here's questions I'm frequently asked as both a wildlife rescuer and carer and keeper at a wildlife sanctuary. Heads up, this is a long post, I've made the questions stick out so you can easily skip through. I've tried to make it as easy to read as possible, and to find what you're after, whilst also providing lots of info.

Poison Vs Venom, what's the difference?

Well, mostly, poison just never stops killing. Like if you poison an insect, then a bird or small mammal eats that insect and they slowly get poisoned by all the poisoned insects they eat, then something eats them, like an owl, and that gets poisoned, then as it rots the poison goes into the environment, etc. Poison never dies. Venom has to be injected, so yes you can be envenomated by a dead animal, if you are stupid. Poison can be inhaled, eaten/drunk or even through touch. So if a cow is poisoned you have to dispose of the body safely, if a cow is bitten by a venomous snake, technically you can still have steak for dinner.

Are all Australian animals out to kill you?

Maybe.

They could want to kill us, I mean as a species we aren't that great. Their ability to kill us however is limited. So are all Aussie animals able to kill you? No. So we have lots of cute small mammals, like antechinus, dunnarts, pygmy possums and the like, that can bite and scratch but are very tiny bois. We even have lots of non-venomous snakes, pythons and blind snakes. Most lizards outside of Goannas can't cause too much damage. Echidna's are completely defensive, have no attack whatsoever. Lots of birds have no interest in you, unless you get near their nest. Freshwater Turtles, Little Penguins and Tawny Frogmouths all main defense is shitting really stinky shit at you. Even our venomous snakes, as long as you seek medical attention you should be fine. Considering we have the top 10 most venomous snakes in the world but average only 1 death a year that's pretty good.

But you still have lots of dangerous animals right?

Yes.

Maybe I should elaborate. Any animal is dangerous, including you, if given the right circumstances. I'm a lovely person but hurt my dog and you better run. Most animals don't want a bar of you. However, if you are a threat to them, or their babies, they will defend themselves. A lot of animals get tagged with the word 'aggressive' which I don't like, aggression is a human emotion that I've never seen in wild animals, or even pets and things. Mostly it's defensive behaviours that people read wrong. For example, the most venomous snake in the world is the Inland Taipan (found in Aust.), however the most dangerous snake in Australia is the Eastern Brown snake, less venomous but also less shy and lives in suburbia. Still, it only ever strikes at people when it feels cornered and needs to get you to back the hell off. And lets be real here, what else can they do? They can't yell and scream, they can't punch or kick. Legit their only option is to bite, and even then mostly it's a closed mouth strike to freak you out into stepping back, and most people bitten by snakes are given a 'dry bite' where no venom is injected, as they want to use it on their food not waste it on us. And 90% of snake bites that happen in Australia are people either trying to catch or kill a snake.

It's fairly simple. Don't threaten animals, don't give them a reason to be dangerous and you are fine. Crocodiles in the water? Don't swim there. Sharks around? Avoid swimming at twilight. Snake? Leave it alone. Nest with baby birds? walk away. You don't randomly show up in some strangers home and expect them not to react, so why do we expect different from animals?

What animals are on the most 'dangerous list' then? Which animals should I really avoid pissing off?

Start with the obvious. Crocodiles, venomous snakes, sharks, some jellyfish, venomous spiders, stone fish, blue ringed octopus, birds of prey (our Wedge Tailed Eagle WILL attack drones, hang-gliders and helicopters if they come into their territory) Then you've got the less obvious. Ants - like meat ants, they will swarm over you then all bite down at once. 1 bite isn't so bad, a whole colony biting you, deadly. Then there's other ants in the Myrmecia family (bull ants and the like) that are just HUGE, and have massive mandables for biting and also can sting you, and are one of the most toxic insects in the world.

Wombats - Can run at 40km/hr, skull so hard it's the only thing a Tassie Devil can't eat, able to bite your calf muscle clean off your leg, oh and they have killer booty. A hard cartilage plate in their lower back that they use to block their burrows, and if threatened can lay down and as the animal tries to get past jam their legs straight and crush the skull of a fox against the roof of their burrow, easily break a dingoes jaw or even destroy your hand.

Kangaroos - yes they box, hahaha wouldn't it be funny to box with a kangaroo. NO. Kangroos box for fun but also to defend themselves and their mob. The Alpha male is the big buff one that looks like he's on steroids. He looks like that for a reason, to defend and protect his mob. DO NOT MESS WITH ANY KANGAROOs, but really don't mess with Big Daddy (for being the alpha he gets all the ladies) Kangaroos are made for this. A punch from a Kangaroo can easily break you ribs. They can lean back on their tail and bring both legs up to kick you, easily tearing you open, which they can do with the claws on their toes, and so basically dissecting you from sternum down. Oh and if they gran you round the neck for a 'Cuddle' DUCK AND RUN. They will hold you in a kind of choke hold and then bring their legs up to kick you and basically snap you in half. Don't even mess with Wallabies man, they may be smaller but can still do damage.

Tassie Devils - are extremely shy and slower than you, like you can actually run away from them. BUT. They have the strongest bite strength compared to size of any animal. The have a PSI of 1200 and males weigh around 8 kg. For perspective, Hyenas have a PSI of 1100 and males weigh around 50kg

Brushtail Possums - They may be cuter than the American Opossums but trust me, they don't want you around. They are solitary so most people have heard them fighting of a night, screeching, shrieking, hissing, growling and making darth vadar noises. Heads up from someone who has had to rescue them from awkward places (fire-places, BBQs, closets) They are stronger than you and they will f*** you up. Even without them meaning to I've gotten injuries from my joey Brushies, they get so keen on their milk when you put it in that they climb your arm and their claws are sharper than cats. Also the sheer strength of them. I'm stronger than I look but if they are clinging on to a tree you are gonna need all your strength to get them off. The can also bite your finger clean off. And I've seen injuries from people who feed wild ones and for some reason have been late to put out the food or something and they've climbed their leg or even jumped on them - stitches were required in a few of those cases (human skin is not thick like tree bark)

What's with Magpies and swooping?

Simple, they have nests/babies and are protecting them. Australia Magpies are very smart and can recognise faces. If they think you are a threat they will try and scare you off. Just like if you're walking along with your toddler and there's a weirdo doing something strange you hold the kid tighter and closer to you and move through faster. But these guys can't just move their nests or their babies. The spot is chosen based on food availability and shelter from sun and rain, but also not being too cold. It's their spot. I've never been swooped by Magpies, other birds yes, but not Magpies. My local birds know me as the lady that cleans and fills the bird bath. Legit the Magpies sing a specific song when it needs filling to call me out to do it. So don't be a threat. If they are swooping in that area, try to avoid it or go through quickly. We used to have Plovers at my school, in the bush at the end of the oval. Never a problem. One day some kids go into the bush and stomp on their nest and eggs. After that they would swoop anyone who came close to there. So the school blocked off that end of the oval. Fair call. Wasn't the birds fault.

Why is everything named so basic?

Oh you mean the snake that's black with a red belly being balled a Red Belly Black Snake, and the tree with all the doodles on it being called a Scribbly Gum? 80% of plants and animals found in Australia are found NO WHERE ELSE. So the early Europeans had a lot of things to name and when they tried naming it themselves they would get it wrong. 2 good examples are: The Death Adder (only considered highly venomous, not deadly, and not an Adder). Also you're only likely to get bitten if you stand on it or try to pick it up. The Australian Magpie, they saw a black and white bird so it must be a magpie. Nope. Actually not in the corvidae family but in the butcherbird family - Artamidae. So their solution was to either take the Aboriginal word, for example, Quoll, Kookaburra, Koala, Quokka, Taipan. Or name it after what it looks like/sounds like/ is found Boobook Owl - makes a sound like booooo-book Squirrel Glider Eastern Water Dragon Grey Headed Flying Fox Flaky Bark Tea Tree Old man Banksia This can cause confusion though as not every brown coloured snake is a brown snake, and not all Eastern brown snakes are brown. Squirrel Gliders aren't related to squirrels. Flying foxes are bats not actual foxes that fly.

What do I do if I find injured wildlife?

Well, depends on the wildlife and where it is. If it's in a dangerous position, like the middle of a highway, don't try anything. First thing, call a wildlife rescue group, there are plenty around and they have trained people who know what to do. A quick google search should show you all you need to know, also the IFAW's Wildlife Rescue App will identify the closest group to you.

If it's a snake, adult wombat or kangaroo, or any other animal that can cause you serious injury, leave it be. The wildlife rescuers you call can give you basic info on how to help but mostly calling them is the main thing.

If it's something smaller, like a young animal or glider or baby bird and you are able to put it into a cardboard box that will be perfect. The 3 main things injured/ill wildlife need are warmth, dark and quiet. You don't need to worry about food or water. The rescuers will organise that. If you give food or water to an animal in shock you can cause more damage.

THE BEST THING IS TO DO NOTHING. I know this sounds stupid. But so many problems can occur from people who don't know what they are doing helping out. You know what they say about good intentions. For example, picking up a Koala like you would pick up a human child (under the armpits, around the chest) you could actually break their ribs. Also so many Koalas end up needing vet care during heat waves because people pour water into their mouths - they can get pneumonia as the water goes in too fast, it is not a natural way for them to drink. You can also get yourself injured or make the animals injuries worse. I have seen Kangaroos with broken legs get up and try to hop away from people. I have seen severe scratches on other people because they tried to pick up an animal.

What diseases can wildlife give me?

Well. I only know about Australian wildlife, and it's very different to other parts of the world. If you get a bad bite or scratch from wildlife you should see your doctor ASAP, get the wound cleaned properly and make sure your tetanus is up to date (same as if a pet gives you a bad bite or scratch).

There aren't that many Zoonosis that are around in Australia that are easy to catch. Mostly you have to be dealing directly with sick wildlife to get them.

The main thing is Australian Bat Lyssavirus. ABL for short. Now our bats can carry it. About 1 in 1000 bats may have it and you HAVE to be bitten or scratched for it to be transmitted to you. If you are bitten or scratched by a bat your chance is 0.1% of getting ABL but it is related to Rabies, so head straight to hospital for treatment. If you don't touch a bat you won't get bitten or scratched and so your chance of getting it is 0. Hendra is the other virus our bats carry, however it has to go through a horse before it mutates enough for humans to get it.

Basically it's only when you get involved with wildlife that your risk of getting a disease from them is higher than VERY unlikely. If you happen to help some wildlife, and you maybe wrap them in a towel or jumper, even if they urinate on it. You can just chuck it in the wash (I usually add a little extra disinfectant) and it will be fine. Treat it the same as if a pet had used it or urinated on it.

What's some Good Wildlife Apps to have?

Well, there's so many out there now hey? Here's some that I've found handy or know people that use. WomSAT EchidnaCSI PlatypusSPOT are all for recording sightings of these animals (wombats/echidnas/platypus) this helps researches track where they are and how they are going which means we can help them more as well. OzAtlas - record a sighting of anything Australian, animal, plant, fungus, insect. FrogID - need to identify a frog? This is the app for you. Use photos or sound recordings, Field Guide to *insert state/territory* Fauna - Have a field guide on you wherever you are without having to carry a book. Seek by inaturalist - Helps you identify any animals, plants, insect, fungus. IFAW Wildlife Rescue - wildlife rescue app (currently for NSW only but soon expanding) will give you advice on what to do and put you into contact with the local wildlife rescue groups.

Besides Cats and Foxes, what other invasive species have you got that cause problems?

First up, any invasive species causes a problem. In Tasmania they have issues with Sugar Gliders, because they are not naturally found there and use up tree hollows that other animals need. Invasive species cause competition for food, water and shelter. They can also bring in diseases that didn't exist in Australia before and that our natives have no defence against (like cats and Toxoplasmosis) Here's a quick list of invasive animal species in Australia. Cats, dogs, foxes, pigs, water buffalo, ferrets rabbits, horses/brumbies, goats, camels, Cane Toad, European Honey Bee, Common Myna bird, deer, donkey, common starling, common pigeon, black rat, brown rat.

There's more, there's reptiles, and weeds and fish but those guys ^ are the main ones that cause problems.

I am an animal lover but unless we get rid of these animals you loose more in the long run. I'm 100% against use of poisons, I prefer having people hunt them to be honest. If you know what you are doing and have the right equipment you can give them a quick, painless death. To give you an idea how bad invasives are:

The introduction of the rabbit is the main cause the Lesser Bilby became extinct.

The introduction of cats and toxoplasmosis is believed to be the main reason Eastern Quolls became extinct on mainland Australia

Rats led directly to the extinction of 5 of Lord Howe Island's bird species

30% of our land snakes and Goannas are at risk as Cane Toads are rapidly spreading and eat their eggs.

The Common Myna Bird is the 2nd greatest threat to Australian native birds (habitat loss being the 1st)

The fox population has been estimated at 72 million and consume around 190 million birds a year

There's an estimated 23 million wild pigs/boars and an estimated 2.6 million goats - all eating whatever they come across.

How can I help Australian Wildlife?

There's the stuff we already know, like reduce/reuse/recycle and don't litter. But there's other things you may not know about.

Turn off lights at night - any lights that you don't need, don't have them on, especially if they are outside. Lots of animals require insects in their diets, particularly moths, which can be distracted by lights. Zoos Victoria have launched educational stuff for this https://youtu.be/ZAcL4FKPtHw

Learn about them - It's not hard, there's multiple ways you can do it. There's books, tv shows, pod casts, you can follow sanctuaries and other people who work with wildlife on social media. Planting flora that's native to your area is great as different plants can attract different animals and it's much lower maintenance, being made for that environment. You can even find cool life-hacks like Lemon Scented Tea-Tree doesn't just smell amazing and feed lots of wildlife, it keeps the mozzies away! There's different kinds of nesting boxes out there specific to different species that you can put up to help 'foster' that species. You can even become friends with your local Magpies! Mine know me as the lady who cleans and fills the bird bath and all I had to do was whistle to them when I was done and now they are really chill around me and I get to watch their antics. Debunk Myths! - In learning about wildlife you can debunk lots of myths like: a mother bird won't take it's chick back if you've touched it (fake news!) or that snakes dislocate their jaw to swallow their prey (that would be soooo painful!)

Put out water - have a bird bath and keep it clean and full. Or if you don't have one or want to get one just put water out on hot days. Summer's getting hotter and hotter and our animals really suffer. So put out a nice pot or container of water. Don't forget to put a rock or a stick in it if it's a slippery surface (like plastic or metal) so that little animals and bugs don't fall in and drown, and keep it out of the sun if it's likely to heat up.

Check roadkill - it's not pleasant but needs to be done. Don't do it if it's a motorway or somewhere dangerous, but if you can PLEASE do. Roadkill sometimes looks dead but isn't and you don't want them laying there suffering. They may have pouch young if they are a marsupial or young nearby that will need care without their parent. And where possible get it off the road. Species like Tasmanian Devils, Goannas and Wedge Tailed Eagles feed on roadkill and can then end up as roadkill themselves. Even if you have to drag it, it's dead and not gonna feel any more pain. 100% of people I have attended a rescue for who have called because they stopped and found a joey or young in a pouch or hiding nearby have not regretted their decision at all. Even if they were late for work, they saved a life and it was worth it.

Avoid using poisons - insecticides, pesticides, snail bait and straight up rat poison. Like mentioned in POISON VS VENOM, it just keeps killing. There are so many other options out there and they aren't hard to find. There's stuff on the internet but also at Bunnings I've found more environmentally sound options that use Tea Tree oils and Eucalyptus instead and work just as well.

Don't feed them! - Most Aussie animals are gluten and lactose intolerant. BREAD IS REALLY BAD! and if not eaten it gets mouldy and causes disease. Putting out bird seed is the number 1 problem when we talk 'feeding wildlife'. WHY?

The 'wild birdseed' that you buy in shops isn't actually for wild birds. JUST LOOK AT IT, you don't see those seeds growing out in the wild. The main seed wild birds eat are Bottle-brush, She-oaks, Banksias, Wattle and Eucalypts. None of those are found in these bags of seed.

Even for seed eaters that seed you buy is too fatty and unbalanced

For those that don't usually eat seed, like Lorikeets, eating the seed destroys the specialised bristles on their tongues that they need to eat their natural food - nectar and pollen.

If you don't keep it clean you will spread diseases, especially psittacosis (beak and feather) for which there is no cure just a slow, drawn out death. You can also catch it and end up in hospital.

You cause an imbalance. Animals breed based on food availability, if you make food available they will breed but there might not be enough space or trees available and you create more competition and also they end up relying on you and if you go on holiday or anything they can die without that food.

You can cause health issues in other animals. Possums love bird seed but it makes them fat, making it harder for them to escape predators.

You will be feeding non-natives. For example, the Common Myna bird cannot survive on wild plants, but if there is a food source around they can. Got rid of Common Mynas in my neighbourhood by convincing my neighbours to stop putting out bird seed.

RATS LOVE BIRD SEED. Specially feral rats. Mice also love bird seed.

You make a predator hot-spot. It won't take long for predators to realised animals they prey on visit your feeding station and they will come. The most common predator I find around bird seed? Snakes. Snakes love rats and mice, rats and mice love bird seed. You do the maths.

If you want to feed them just do some research and plant trees that are food for them.

How many species are endangered?

Sadly, it's almost quicker to list what's NOT endangered in Australia.

That's hard to say as there is different ways they can be endangered. In one area they may be common, but in another they could be disappearing. You can have Endangered lists at different levels; local, state, national and international.

But the most used list is the International Union for Conservation of Nature’s Red List of Threatened Species has evolved to become the world’s most comprehensive information source on the global extinction risk status of animal, fungus and plant species. AKA the IUNC Red List

Here's a bit of a breakdown: EXTINCT 26 mammals 7 birds 4 amphibians CRITICALLY ENDANGERED 7 mammals 8 birds 15 amphibians 13 reptiles ENDANGERED 18 mammals 29 birds 18 amphibians 21 Reptiles VULNERABLE 51 mammals 40 birds 23 amphibians 35 reptiles NEAR THREATENED 43 mammals 37 birds 9 amphibians 21 reptiles

Then there's the "data deficient" category where they really just don't have the info. 10 mammals 11 amphibians 42 reptiles

I will continue to update this post as I think of other things. Feel free to send me any questions you have

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Today in Tolkien - January 12th

This is the day when the Fellowship attempt and fail to cross the Redhorn Pass over over the Misty Mountains.

The snow begins a little after midnight.

By midnight they had climbed to the knees of the great mountain. The narrow path now wound under a sheer wall of cliffs to the left, above which the grim flanks of Caradhras towered up invisible in the gloom; on the right was a gulf of darkness where the land fell suddenly into a deep ravine. Laboriously they climbed a sharp slope and halted for a moment at the top. Frodo felt a soft touch on his face. He put out his arm and saw the dim white flakes of snow settling on his sleeve.

They went on. But before long the snow was falling fast, filling all the air, and swirling into Frodo’s eyes. The dark bent shapes of Gandalf and Aragorn only a pace or two ahead could hardly be seen.

... Gandalf halted. ...While they were halted, the wind died down, and the snow slackened until it almost ceased. They tramped on again. But they had gone no more than a furlong [this is about 220m, or roughly the same in yards] when the storm returned with fresh fury. The wind whistled and the snow became a blinding blizzard.

...The Company halted suddenly, as if they had come to an agreement without any words being spoken. They heard eerie noises in the darkness round them. It may have been only a trick of the wind in the cracks and gullies of the rocky wall, but the sounds were those of shrill cries, and wild howls of laughter. Stones began to fall from the mountain-side, whistling over their heads, or crashing on the path beside them. Every now and again they heard a dull rumble, as a great boulder rolled down from hidden heights above.

Boromir, Aragorn, and Gimli all agree that this isn’t normal weather, and so ething is deliberately attacking them and trying to stop their passage. This remains unexplained beyond Aragorn’s, “There are many evil and unfriendly things in this world that have little love for those that go on two legs, and yet are not in league with Sauron, but have purposes of theur own” and Gimli’s “Caradhras was called the Cruel, and had an ill name, long years ago, when rumour of Sauron had not been heard in these lands.”

It’s one of the things I like about Tolkien compared to more hard-magic systems, the sense of mystery and the unknown and the complexities of the world beyond what we see. Caradhras is a counterpart to Bombadil and the River-daughter, Old Man Willow and the Huorns and the Ents; it is nature, alive and with its own purposes. Caradhras does not want to be climbed. (It amuses me to think of the quote “Why climb a mountain? Because it’s there.” and the mountain just going, “No, fuck you.”...Honestly, Everest would be quite justified in this given all the crap we’ve left up there.)

That’s not to say Caradhras has good reasons; it probably doesn’t, given what Gimi says and that the dwarves would know the mountain well. Not all nature spirits have to be benevolent like Bombadil or Treebeard, or even merely angry like Old Man Willow or the Huorns. Some are just dicks, and Caradhras is one of them. Or maybe it regards people crawling on it the way we’d regard flies or ants crawling on us.

It’s one of the things I was disappointed about the movie changing (it had Saruman causing the storm), along with the change from Gandalf wanting to go through Moria to Gandalf wanting to avoid it. It streamlines things, which is what the a film generally wants, but it makes the world smaller.

Gandalf starts a fire (with green and blue flames) to stave off hypothermia for them all when no one else can manage to light one. I tried to translate naur an edraith ammen (which Gandalf also uses later in the battle against the wolves) using the dictionary in The Silmarillion, but I couldn’t find any of the words except naur, which I already knew is “fire.”

The Company realize they’re not going to be able to cross the mountain and climb back down, with help from Boromir, Aragorn, and Legolas. By the time they reach the bottom of the mountain, where the snow first began, it is late morning.

They continue walking all day, and halt for a meal just after sunset, then discuss what to do next. Gandalf and Gimli favour the path through Moria; Boromir supports going south through the Gap of Rohan or the long way around via western Gondor south of the White Mountains, but Gandal opposes the former on the basis of Saruman and the latter due to the length of the journey. (One supposes they could have gone to the Grey Havens and then taken a ship south and up the Anduin, but Arnor lost its palantiri and its last king on a sea-voyage, so that’s not as safe as it might seem.)

I really want to know the story of what happened to Aragorn in Moria; he won’t say anything about it except “the memory is very evil” and his warning to Gandalf “if you pass the doors of Moria, beware!” This could be some faint ability of foresight inherited from his mother, or it could be based on his experiences in Moria - but if he knows there’s a balrog there, why doesn’t he say so outright (to Gabdalf at least, if not to the Fellowship as a whole?), and if he doesn’t, what did he meet that frightened him so much?

The Fellowship’s discussion is ended by warg-howls, which mean that Moria is now the only feasible path. They set up camp and the fire in the middle of a ring of stones on a small hill (it must remind Frodo of Weathertop.) The wolves surround them.

Gandalf stood up and strode forward, holding his staff aloft. “Listen, Hound of Sauron!” he cried. “Gandalf is here. Fly, if you value your foul skin! I will shrivel you from tail to snout, if you come within this ring.”

The wolf snarled and sprang towards them with a great leap. At that moment there was a sharp twang. Legolas had loosed his bow. There was a hideous yell, and the leaping shape thudded to the ground; the elvish arrow had pierced its throat. The watching eyes were sudeenly extinguished. Gandalf and Aragorn strode forward, but the hill was deserted; the hunting packs had fled. All about them the darkness grew silent, and no cry came on the sighing wind.

[chaos-societies]

Episode 7, The Spokes That Keep Turning

[x]

There was little light in the small entrance to a cave hundreds of miles from South Island. Chuck was crawling through the small passageway and already had stains of mud and dirt on both his clothes and his fur. He held upright a torch which limited his progress as he made his way deeper.

“You sure you didn’t want me to go first? I am a bit smaller.” A slightly high pitch voice came from behind him.

A smile arose on Chuck’s face. “Wasn’t it you who said whoever gets here first gets to go in first?”

“WaSn’T iT yOu WhO sAiD…shut up.” The girl answered back snarkily. Chuck just smiled.

He came across a small wall of rocks that seemed lose enough to dislodge. He reached his free arm as to his waist and pulled out a small hammer. He got as much leverage as he could in the tight space and began swinging at the wall. After a few hits the rocks seemed to loosen up and he kept swinging. Lo and behold, the small wall collapsed and he squeezed his way through.

He found himself in a massive cathedral. The sound of running water and the occasional drips of stalactites, giving portions of themselves to the pillars below in hopes that they would eventually meet to join the hanging columns, echoed through the chamber. He stood on a ledge and found he didn’t seem to need his torch as much as he thought as beauteous glowing crystals, larger than the tallest buildings in any village or city he had been to, were scattered all around. He didn’t dare extinguish the torch though as they had only succeeded in finding what the party of two were hoping to find. Only now would the exploring begin.

“By the lords…” He said as he gazed upon the sight.

His follower soon emerged from the tiny entrance and stood up to gaze upon the sight as well. “Whoa. It’s beautiful.” She said. The bluish tint of the natural light of the cave, coming from seemingly unnatural sources, washed away the green color of her fur. “So. I guess we found it.” Her awe was paused as she curled a smile and gave Chuck an elbow to the side. “Guess now that we found this place that means we’re forever cursed like the locals said.”

Chuck gave an ‘oof’ with the hit but had grinned at the joke anyway. “Come on, we only just found the cave. Now we got to find that crown. There may still be many curses that we have to look out for.” His partner rolled her eyes.

The two started making their way down to a ledge where there seemed to be enough footholds to climb down with relative ease. Working their way down, they appeared to be mere ants on a wall compared to the size of the vast open room.

…

[x]

“The cave was far to the northwest of the continent. It was bigger than anything I had seen or explored. I couldn’t imagine making a map of the place. I just made a crude trail on some parchment I had to make sure I got back out.” Chuck spoke to the gang as he dipped a biscuit in some black tea and took a bite. He continued. “There must have been miles of passageways, dozens of rooms and chambers that I was not able to investigate or explore. I ended up finding the crown in a crypt, deep in the cavern. I almost didn’t make it out; it was a very dangerous excursion.” His audience of the usual bunch listened intently. “Not being a greedy man, I had no means to keep the thing.” He let out a sigh and a small smile formed on his face. “Ah, I used to be quite the adventurer back in the day. I gave the crown to the archives in Westport. They have many safeguarded secrets in those archives and I still am confident in its safekeeping there.”

“Wow. Sir Charles, I didn’t know you were a treasure hunter.” Amy stated.

“I wouldn’t call myself a treasure hunter. More of a scholar. There just happens to be many scholarly relics of times of old that may be hidden about.”

“Did you go back into the cave to find anything else?” Sonic asked.

“I would have. Oh the wonders that must have been down there! When I went back, I found that a rockslide must have happened and the entrance, so small and hidden, taking me many hours of research and weeks to find, was covered up. It would take a massive crew to undergo the efforts to clear the rubble. No one other than those at the archives, and now you lot, know of what I found there and I find it best for that information to fade away.” He finished explaining.

“Do you think the other crowns were down there?” Tails asked.

“I don’t know. Possibly. But such things of great historical importance such as that are rarely in the same place. Would have made things much easier back then wouldn’t you say.” He answered with a chuckle to finish.

“So you want us to travel all the way across the continent?” Rouge asked a little unsure about the task if that be the case.

“Heavens no. At least…not quite yet. I hope things won’t come to that. But much of my research to find the crown was done in the library at Smithwick, beyond the Greater Area in the Green Hills. But that journey wouldn’t even make sense for you to go looking in old dusty books and then come back after not even knowing what to look for.” Chuck took off his glasses and looked away knowing what had to be done. “No…this next journey I may ask of you won’t be a simple errand. What I am hesitant to ask of you all, if you shall accept the task, I’m afraid may take you away from South Island for a while.”

“How long is a while?” Rouge asked.

“That depends. Weeks for sure. Maybe months.”

“How would we go about doing that?” Tails began to wonder.

“It won’t be easy. You’d have to do certain jobs here and there for tokens. Beyond Cap, I can’t guarantee a place to stay. And there will surely be many nights where you would have to set up a camp between cities in your travel.”

“You think we could take the Syphon to make things easier Tails?” Sonic turned to him to ask.

“I thought of that but it will surely need a good amount of maintenance on the way which I won’t have a means to do unless I am here usually. It can only do so much, I’d hate for us to come to an impasse and have to leave it somewhere, lose it, or it even break down where we can’t get it back up.” He explained.

“Why do we have to go out and do anything?” Rouge spoke up. “The way I see it, we had some kooks play a grotesque prank at Stark Ruins and now we’re chasing ghost stories. Do we really have to do anything?”

The room was a bit silent as Rouge had brought up a good point. There was no indication of apocalypse, there was no threat that they could tell, and other than some loose connections between pieces of mythology they had no reason to make any further action. But Chuck was smart and he wouldn’t be laying out the framework of such undertaking unless he deemed it necessary, and he definitely wouldn’t be asking them to put themselves in danger and leave South Island out of mere curiosity, despite it being embedded in the Cyan way of thinking. But there was another piece of evidence.

Chuck looked around at the lot and saw Amy shyly staring at the ground. “Amy.” He said warmly. “Do you wish to say something?”

She looked up at Chuck and knew he meant well. She could say no and that would be the end of it. But she felt something was awry. She knew answers needed to be found or else something horrible may come to pass. “I do.” She stood up to speak

“Amy?” Sonic said mostly as a reaction.

“I’ve…been having dreams lately. I know what it sounds like but. They have been…different. They aren’t some surreal haze that you forget about shortly after you wake up or even some fictional scenario or collection of events and memories. They have been clear and almost like a message. All of them foreboding.” She was timid at first but then her confidence overcame her. “They’ve been about the recent events, but because of recent events. In fact lately, they have been about recent events before they’ve transpired. Before we set off for Cap the second time, I dreamt of fire and flood devastating the land. Then we came across those runes about god and giants of fire and water in conflict. The gypsy in the street told me we were special. She knew I was having dreams and I hadn’t said a word to her at that time. I’m think something is about to happen and I think we need to act.”

The room was silent again. Finally Chuck spoke up. “Rouge, you have every right to be skeptical about this. I’m glad you are in fact. So many things can occupy your mind and if you don’t scrutinize them to really determine what they are for, you may succumb to falsehoods. Not at all am I ordering you to undertake this task, by any means. This is your choice.”

“When would you want us to leave?” Sonic asked.

“Not for a while. Before I send you off, I need to do much research and further study the Stair na Seacht to give you all the proper amount of information for your investigations and findings. That will give you time to prepare as well. Overall, so that you are not blind to my goals, I think we need to find the other crowns.”

“Do you expect me to join in on any of this?” Knuckles spoke up for the first time in this meeting.

“I’m afraid this concerns you, as well as anyone. But again, that choice is yours to make. You have your chapter of the Red Society on Angel Island to manage. I would never ask anyone to stray from their duties to their Society.” Chuck answered.

There were many wandering thoughts throughout the room. Yet none of them were spoken. “Can we have some time? Some time to think about it?” Tails asked coyly.

“Of course.” Chuck gave him a warming smile. “I am sorry to have burdened you with this request so suddenly. Go enjoy yourselves. Talk amongst yourself if you so please but rest your thoughts for now.” Slowly, they each got up and made their way out of Chuck’s hut. Once they were all gone, Chuck rubbed his eyes and placed his glasses back on his face. “Chaos have mercy.” He muttered.

…

“Up to the Green Hills. Oh I bet that’d be an awesome sight! Not to mention some great solid ground to stretch my legs. I don’t know about you all but I think I’m decided.” Sonic said enthusiastically as the group walked from Chuck’s hut.

“You won’t even need to do any convincing to give Sonic a chance for adventure.” Amy said almost in a derogatory manner if it wasn’t for the light admiration in her voice.

“Oh you know it!” Sonic responded as he pulled Amy close and gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

“I still don’t know about travelling hundreds of miles away on foot chasing fairy tales.” Rouge spoke up.

“Come on Rouge! Even if it’s for nothing, can you imagine the places and sights we’ll see? Something other than desert and this dusty old town? Don’t get me wrong, I love it here at South Island. But the world is much bigger than this corner of The Greater Area.” Sonic rebuked.

“Would you be joining us Knux if we decide to go?” Tails asked their pseudo-foreign friend.

He gave a huff and crossed his arms. “Why?”

“Why not!” Sonic answered back continuing his enthusiasm.

The echidna let out a sigh. “I have other things to worry about.”

“Oh? Like what.”

“Like my own island. Besides, you all have to learn to take care of yourselves. Can’t rely on me all the time to save your skins.”

“Oh har har har. You say that but we all know you enjoy our little scuffles, let alone our company.”

“Your company? Pfff, I need a break from your company on the regular!” He shouted back annoyed. “And IF I were to come along on your strange trek for some dead guys’ busted up crowns, I’d have to make it back to Angel Island regularly. Its trajectory goes along your path up north, depending on the time of year, and touches the Green Hills. I’d be coming and going often.”

“Sounds like you already thought it through.” Sonic said with a devilish grin. Knuckles looked over at him as Sonic gave a few raises of his eye brows which earned him a heavy shove from the Red.

The group came up to the tavern as Knuckles began to veer toward the road to the main bridge. “Well like Sir Charles said, we have some time to mull it over.” Amy stated. “Oh, are you heading out Knuckles?”

“I am. Someone’s got to make sure my goons up on Angel Island haven’t killed each other.”

“I’m sure Mighty does at good job keeping them in check.” Sonic added.

“Regardless, I’m looking forward to my own home again. I’ll see you in a few passings. Angel Island should be getting close.”

“See you around handsome.” Rouge called out to him. Knuckles threw his hand in the air in somewhat of a wave as he walked on. “I think he has the right idea though. I need my own place for a bit. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” And with that Rouge also departed the group.

…

“What do you mean, your turn? It’s MY hammock! If my ass is planted in it, it’s not leaving until I decide for it to.” Nack the weasel blurted out as he swung lazily in the breeze on a crudely made rope hammock. He flicked his wrist to ‘shoo’ off Bean, closed his eyes and went back to lounging.

“Kinda rude to make the decisions for your ass,” Bean began crawling on his hands and knees around the hammock. “I’m sure if you let it decide,” by now he was underneath Nack, “it’d want to go UP!” At that moment, Bean sprung up and sent Nack flying out of the hammock.

“Bean! I’m gonna kill you!”

Bark was sitting next to one of the trees used by the hammock, relaxing as well. Nack happen to land close to him so Bark quickly grabbed a hold of Nack’s handkerchief to hold him back from charging at Bean.

“Bark resting on bark, holding Nack back from attack!” Bean cheerfully called out as he swung his feet back and forth while sitting upright in the hammock.

Nack, now defeated as he surely wasn’t going to break free from Bark’s grip, crossed his arms to pout. “Bean, at least could you shut that beak of yours?”

“howms mhis?” He answered with a poor attempt at ventriloquism. Nack just sighed.

“Kn-Knuckles is b-b-back!” Ray came into the scene from above as he glided down to the group.

“Geez, it’s about time. The guy should just hand off the island to us with how little he seems to be up here now.” Nack commented.

Mighty strolled up. “Give him a break. He’s been alone up here for over half his life, if the guy wants to see the world and venture out a bit, he is more than deserving to do so.”

“But why the desert though? He always goes down there instead of anywhere else on the globe. He just wants to hang out in the dirt meanwhile it’s paradise up here! And let alone the treasure that’s supposedly up here.”

“Treasure you still haven’t found but are so sure is here?” Mighty taunted.

“Oh there’s treasure here. Heard it many times from people who see this hunk of land floating overhead.”

“And yet none of them have been up here?”

“Irrelevant. Every treasure hunter knows where there’s ruins there’s treasure.” Nack walked over to Bean as he was lying back in the hammock, whistling an odd tune. He flipped Bean out of the rope bed then quickly hopped back into it. “But nothing wrong with living the good life up here in the meantime.”

“Is he still talking about gold and riches?” Knuckles finally made his way up to the group. Bark just silently nodded his head. “I’ve told you, I’ve seen every inch of this island. The only treasure here is solitude and delicious fruit.”

“Maybe that’s the only treasure you care about.” Nack added.

“E-enough for me!” Ray said as he came down from a tree with a pear in his hands, taking a good sized bite from it.

“Ray, sounds like your speech is improving.” Knuckles said warmly as me moved over to another tree and gave it a hard smack with his fists earning a few fruit to fall from the tree. He tossed one to Bark, another to Mighty then took a bite of one for himself.

“I’ve b-b-been p-practicing!” The flying squirrel said excitedly.

Knuckles leaned over to Mighty and whispered. “Still no luck on jogging his memory about your village?”

“No. And at this point I’m starting to think it’s best if he doesn’t remember. He still is the same cheery optimistic guy but that event definitely traumatized him if it’s entirely blocked out from memory. It did something to him, other than give him that stutter that is. I feel for him.”

“Yeah. You’re a good guardian for him you know?”

“He’s like a little brother.” Mighty said with an endearing smile as he watched Ray devour the pear he came across.

“Heh, you two are like some others we know.”

“Sonic and Tails?”

“Yup. Speaking of them, some things went down not too long ago. They’re going to be venturing out up north at least to the Green Hills. I’ll probably be dropping down to join them quite frequently.” Knuckles explained.

“Nack has been getting a little irritant about your absence you know. It might be good to stay for a bit. The gang down there are tough cookies, I’m sure they can handle a lot of the journey themselves you know.” Mighty spoke his two cents.

“I know. But I’m thinking the crazy events that have surrounded their recent ventures are somehow connected to this place too. While I was down there, there were a lot of strange markings in some cavern north of Cap that matched some here in the ruins. Chuck called them runes and some other ancient markings that I have never seen up here before. Can’t remember the name. O-something he called them. I just…really want to know why I was alone up here and what happened to the others of my kind that used to live here.”

Mighty looked at Knuckles for a good bit and saw how him and Ray weren’t the only ones with some deep seeded issues about their past. Though his past was not a particularly great one, he at least knew his past. He decided to verbalize this to him. “I’ll support you buddy. Ray might not remember our village being ransacked, his parents being killed. But I do. It’s not comforting reflecting on it – that village took me in after I escaped that mad man’s experimentation – but I know where I came from and how I got here. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to not even know that.”

“Thanks.” Knuckles rested a hand on Mighty’s should briefly. “Oh, that reminds me. Amy was talking about some dreams she was having again. One of them mentioned a man with a manic laugh. Not going to lie, you don’t hear much about humans anymore. Not much left. But your captivity with that demented fool came to mind.” Knuckles explained.

“It would be horrifying if she’s having premonitions about the same guy. I will say…he did have a strange laugh that would haunt me for the rest of my life…”

[panfishonthefly]

Fly Tying Friday: The Wee Frog

When it comes to topwater flies for panfish, anything goes. That is one of the things I love about warm water fly fishing. Panfish, bass, and other warmwater predators like pickerel and pike are not concerned that your offering is not an exact replication of the last thing they ate. If it looks alive and can fit in their mouth, they will often have a go at it. 

The lack of demand for realism in fly patterns is one thing that sets warmwater fly fishing apart from trout fishing. We are far more concerned with matching the hatch and delivering a proper presentation in the trout world. Warm water fly fishing is a more rough and tumble affair. Fly selection based on whim and fancy can be just as effective as attempting to match what the fish are currently eating.

Looking into one of my warmwater fly boxes, you see a lot of whim and fancy. Garish colors like chartreuse, fluorescent yellow, bright pink don't often occur in the natural world. Based on the contents of my fly boxes, you would think that panfish live in a world filled with psychedelic colors. There is no doubt that these brightly colored, un-natural looking flies work. If they didn't, they would not take up so much room in my fly boxes. However, if you look close enough, you will find more natural-looking flies mixed in with that kaleidoscope of colors. 

Maybe the decades spent chasing trout keep me coming back to more natural-looking flies that imitate the things that panfish eat. I enjoy tying and fishing patterns like damselflies and dragonflies, two essential food items for warm water fish. Also mixed in with the odd-looking foam and hair creations, you will find a smattering of flies that you can readily recognize as terrestrial insects like hoppers, beetles, and ants. The natural-looking flies that stand out the most are the frogs. My frog patterns are instantly recognizable as the amphibians that are meant to represent.

Everyone knows a bass or a pickerel has a hard time ignoring a properly presented frog pattern, but panfish? You can make the argument that most adult frogs are too big of a prey item to be eaten by most panfish. However, there are smaller species of frogs whose habitats mix with that of panfish. In my area, the Northern Cricket Frog is one such example. While technically a tree frog, it does not take to the branches but prefers a more aquatic existence. They are often found along the muddy banks of ponds and slow-moving streams. As an adult, they range in size from three-quarters of an inch to an inch and a half, which firmly puts them in the size range of something big bluegill would try to eat.

If you search the pages of this blog, you will find several small frog patterns that I tie and fish exclusively for panfish. Most are created using a foam or preformed body. The fly pattern in today's post has been teased in a few recent posts and on social media. Each time I show a picture of it, I receive messages and emails requesting more information on the pattern, so I figure it is high time I share it with the world.

This pattern is tied using flat foam. I have tied small frog patterns using flat foam in the past but have never been entirely satisfied with them. Thin 2mm foam does not have the bulk needed to imitate a chunky little frog, and the thicker foam I have worked with in the past was tough to work with on the small scale in which these flies are tied.  

After joining Semperfli's team of fly tiers, I was introduced to a new type of foam. Semperfli's flat foam is a closed-cell foam, but the air pockets or cells are larger than what is found in most fly tyers foam. This characteristic means the foam compresses easily. Their foam is also remarkably strong and resists tearing quite well. Because it compresses so well, I can use thicker foam, in this case 4.5mm, to create a frog body on hooks as small as a size 12. Combine a body made from this thick foam and Pat Cohen's Creature Frog Legs; you have the perfect panfish-sized frog pattern.  

You could tie the fly very simply with just those two materials, but I like to add an underbody that adds a little sparkle and movement by using a material like Semperfli Straggle String or Straggle Legs. It gives the fly a finished appearance along with added color, movement, and flash. Rubber legs are a must because a topwater bluegill fly without rubber legs doesn't feel right.

I have been anxiously awaiting the arrival of warmer weather and the return of my favorite pastime, topwater fishing for panfish. There is something about bluegill taking a fly off the surface that puts a smile on my face every time. Finally, it appears my wait is over, and mother nature has warmed things up to the point that my favorite fish have returned to the shallows and a looking up for their next meal.

One of the things I love about fishing tiny frog patterns for panfish is the take. Bluegills often slide under a topwater fly and suck it off the surface with an audible slurp. Not the case with a frog pattern. They seem to know that this type of prey can elude them if they're not careful, and they grab them off the surface with a vengeance, more like the take of a bass. I am often surprised when a big bluegill comes to hand, mistaking the violent take for a bass.  

Fishing Frog Patterns

When fishing frog patterns, I prefer to cast parallel to the bank instead of casting out into the middle of the pond. Frogs are found along the bank, seldom straying far from it, and this is where I find these flies to be most effective. My favorite way to fish them is to slip on a pair of hip boots or waders and walk out a short distance from the shoreline. I then slowly make my way along the shore, casting ahead of me as I move. My first cast will put the fly as close to the bank as possible. I then fan out my casts until I reach a point 10 -15 feet from shore. I will then move down the shoreline a short distance and repeat the process. Fishing from a float tube or kayak is also a good option for this type of fishing as you can bring the watercraft close to the shoreline and use the same method. Fishing from the bank is usually problematic as there are generally too many obstructions to grab a fly line or rid tip.

A plus side to fishing frog patterns for panfish is that you will attract predators like bass and pickerel. Even though a size 12 frog is not much of a meal for a bass, they seem to recognize an easy snack and seldom pass it up. I have found that pickerel are so fond of these tiny frogs that I refrain from fishing them in waters where they are present in good numbers as I lose far too many flies to these toothy predators. If tiny frog patterns are not part of your topwater panfish arsenal, they should be. Give them a try; you won't be disappointed!

Pattern Recipe:

Hook: Size 10 or 12 Firehole 618 or comparable hook

Thread: 6/0 Semperfli Classic Waxed Thread in the color of choice

Frog Legs: Cohen’s Creature Fog Legs size micro or mini depending on hook used

Underbody: Semperfli Straggle String or Straggle Legs

Legs: Round Rubber

Body: Semperfli 4.5mm Flat Foam in the color of choice cut in a teardrop shape using a foam cutter or trimmed by hand with scissors, craft knife, etc.

Thread Treatment: Solarez Bone Dry UV Resin or Solarez Bone Dry Plus UV Resin

Tying Instructions:

The first step is to prepare the body. You want an appropriately sized teardrop shape piece of foam. You can cut the shape out by hand, but I like using a spider body foam cutter. The largest size spider body cutter produces a perfectly sized body for a size 12 frog.

Start your thread on the hook shank and wrap it down to the bend of the hook. At the bend, tie in your frog legs. Note: I add color to the legs before tying them in. I get the best results using fabric markers as the colors will not fade even after repeated dunkings in the water.

Optional: Before tying in the frog legs, you can add a small loop of stiff monofilament. This loop may help keep the frog legs from fouling on the hook shank (something that is seldom a problem on a fly this small), and it gives you a convenient tie-in point for adding a dropper. The legs are then added on top of the loop.

After tying in the frog legs, I bring the thread back towards the eye, stopping an eye length or two from the front of the hook.

Capture a small piece of the wide end of the foam body with thread wraps and lash it down to the front of the hook. When working with foam, don't use a lot of pressure on the first few thread wraps to avoid cutting the foam. Lightly trap down the foam with a wrap or two, then increase the thread pressure with subsequent wraps to further compress and secure the foam. Semperfli foam excels here as it compresses easily without bulk.

Once the front of the body is tied down, tie in a short piece of Straggle String right at the tie-in point for the foam.

Leaving the Straggle String in place, advance the thread to a point mid-shank and tie in a pair of rubber legs, bringing the thread back to the bend once the legs are secured.

Wind the Straggle String down the hook shank, careful not to tie down the rubber leg material. When you reach the frog legs' tie-in point, you can tie it off and cut away the excess.

The final step is to fold the body back and lash it down. Once secured, trim away excess foam (if using a foam cutter there will be a small tab of foam remaining), whip finish, and cut away the thread. A drop of thin UV Resin like Solarez Bone Dry protects the thread and keeps everything in place.

Note:  There is probably no need to color the body as the fish likely only see the underside of the fly. Despite that, I always add some froggy-looking spots to the fly because I think they look better, but I doubt the fish care. I usually add custom colors once the fly is completed.

[thetemplarscreed]

Comfortable Moments of Silence

Summary: Never once have I hesitated in killing any of these women and men. The task has formed me into the shell of a man I once was. I am a stone cold killer… or so I thought I was. Today is the day I hesitate.

Word count: 14, 605

Link to work on AO3 ~  https://archiveofourown.org/works/25556491

I reach the end of the trail. The air is still, and I am a hunter.

Winter strikes New York. The tops of the buildings are covered in white, making the entire city look like a new world. People are scurrying about, seeking shelter in the nearest tavern or shop while the blizzard rages on. There is no one on the streets.

As I look around, the insides of establishments provide an entirely different life of their own. I see people happily dancing and drinking in the taverns without a care in the world. I see townsfolk hurrying their children into their shared homes to protect them from the harsh outside world. Behind me, the sun sets, attempting to push its last rays out for the people to see them, only to be blinded by the howling fury of the storm. Fighting fire with fire. Nature versus nature; it is the cycle of life.

Master Kenway assigned me a task yesterday. A new gang has established its stronghold in Stuyvesant’s Farm, the Grandmaster said. Take them down, and make sure they never even think of laying foot in New York. A simple task, really. This is something that I’ve done since years ago, after leaving the Brotherhood behind. Blow up the poison vats; kill the gang leader; burn down the Assassin flag; hand over the institution to the British regulars. It seems more like a laundry list than anything at this point.

A good time to strike the Assassin stronghold would be now, but the blizzard makes it ever more so difficult. I will seek refuge in my home and strike at the crack of dawn. Pulling my coat tighter around my shoulders, I begin my journey to Greenwich.

Stinging. My cheeks are stinging as are the tips of my toes and fingers and the entirety of my body. Winters in the east are entire monsters of their own. Though I’ve lived in New York for all of my life, I still find immense difficulty in fighting against the final months of the year. I feel patches of ice forming on my face despite having pulled up my mask. I feel a mock sense of frostbite assaulting my body even while wearing three layers of leather, cotton, and wool. At this point it may as well be real frostbite. Home is only a few blocks away, I reassure myself.

Hush. Hush. Hush. Whispers. I hear whispers. Through the howl of the blizzard and the whipping of the wind, I hear an ever faint sound ringing in my ears. Hush, the sound says. It’s all too familiar. Those damned Assassins are after me again, sending their foot soldiers to catch me off guard. They’ll never succeed. I’ve killed them like flies. Where could this one be, I muse to myself. I stop in my tracks and focus my vision, honing on the haystack a few meters to my right, the rooftops above me, and the vegetation to my left. There you are, little rabbit. A bright red outline catches my attention. It is a woman, as usual. It still perplexes me why the mentor would send lasses out to kill me. I can see the smirk on her face. She thinks she has gotten me. I don’t blame her; if I am her I’d be just as smug. She doesn’t know that I can see her, so I continue strolling down the alley to entice her.

A loud “I’ve gotcha now!” joins the screaming wind as the young woman drops from above the skies. Before she can even land on me, I’ve blocked her attack, using my leg to knock her tiny form over. The lass scrambles onto her feet with a look of surprise slightly obscured by her locks. She gasps in shock as she tries to stand, only to slip on the snow-covered ground. I flick out my blades and position myself into an offensive stance. She slips once again and I take the opportunity to run at her and sink my blade into her flesh.

I charge towards the Assassin, hidden blades ready and all. Just as I am about to end her life, she covers her face with her arms. Suddenly, I stop. What is that on her arm? Momentum, however, was not on my side, as I fall on the woman by mistake and slash my blade across her arm. The lass emits a blood curdling scream which was drowned by the blizzard. Red. Red drips down her arms. Red stains my leather uniform. Red covers my vision. Immediately, I press on the lass’s arm, trying to apply direct pressure to stop as much of the bleeding as possible. She is fading away. Her breath is becoming more and more labored as her eyelids begin to flutter close. Her groans are not stopping.

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself, as I remove her grey shawl and use it as a makeshift pressure bandage. After carefully tightening the cloth around her arm, I pick her up and sprint towards home. After running for a minute or so I spot the familiar gardens of the fort. Once I reach the door, I kick it open and immediately bring the woman to my chambers, where I place her gently on my bed. I have to cauterize the wound before she bleeds to death. I reach below the bed for the medical kit then rush to collect a basin of freshwater and a fireplace stoke. Blood spews all over the white covers as I remove the now crimson-stained shawl. My bed is painted in a vibrant red color, like a blood sunrise. The woman groans in pain continually as her eyes close.

I tear a piece of her golden dress and gag her mouth. “This is gonna hurt,” I say quietly, more to myself than to her. In her state of delirium, she couldn’t possibly hear a word of what I say or even fight back if she wants to. I immediately place the burning hot stoke onto the lass’s blood-drenched arm. A scream tears through the night, louder than the one from before. A scream of a thousand people, more like. Suddenly, I felt the familiar sense of guilt wash over me: just like in Lisbon. I remind myself, however, that this is for a different cause.

Buildings crashing and burning, people screaming and running for their lives, waves threatening to engulf the city. It is all too real. I can feel the perspiration forming at the nape of my neck. Why does it feel so real? Why is it so difficult to breathe? Why are the walls closing in on me, the room getting smaller and smaller? I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths, mentally reminding myself that those are merely figments of the past, that those events happened years ago.

The smell of burning flesh draws me away from my nightmarish thoughts. They help me focus on the woman. It is working; the wound is sealing. The blood, though staining almost the entirety of her torso now, is ceasing and drying. I remove the stoke and throw it into the fireplace before preparing the stitches. By now, the lass is unconscious, the pain having been too much for her form to handle. I place two of my fingers against her neck trying to find a pulse; a gentle but slow throbbing indicates that she is indeed alive. At least it would be easier to perform the operation.

A few hours, several stitches, crimson garments, and an unconscious woman later, I finally get to rest. I place her soiled clothes at the corner of the room. I will burn them tomorrow. For now, I must use the little hours of the night left to recover and prepare for the attack on the Assassin stronghold in the morning. I leave the lass to “sleep” on my bed as I have no qualms about taking the couch for the short night. Her silent, breathing form is so much different from the terrified and screaming one from earlier. I feel a sense of calm washing over me from simply watching her in this fugue state.

Some hair sticks to her forehead; I push it out of the way so it would not obscure her face. I do not bother changing my clothes as I walk to my living room. I sit on the sofa and release a sigh. Outside, the storm rages on, the wind causing a few tree branches to scrape against the window. It is nights like these that make me feel trapped. I am nothing but an ant in this big, cruel world. Yet, the presence of the young woman in the room next door says otherwise. This woman is like an anchor. She is subconsciously telling me that I have a duty, a purpose.

I normally defend myself quite well against these Assassin Stalkers, as they’ve been sent after me by the Brotherhood for the better half of several years now. Never once have I hesitated in killing any of these women and men. The task has formed me into the shell of a man I once was. I am a stone cold killer… or so I thought I was. Today is the day I hesitate.

The hunt has taken me to the forgotten edges of this world. Seasons pass, drawing me deeper into darkness, where I have found the truth.

Silence. Not a sound rings through my home. The quietness is unnerving compared to the cacophony from the night before. I lazily open my eyes and wipe away the grogginess. Taking a glance out the window, I see a faint glow of pink. The sun is trying to reach out once again. Nature reminds me that I must prepare for my mission. My feet, however, drag me into my chambers. Go check on the lass, my head tells me. And I do just that.

On my bed sleeping soundly is the girl. Her breathing remains the same as last night, not labored but not too slow. I check the wound; it has sealed properly, but in its place is a nasty scar stretching from her elbow to her wrist. A reminder of the night she tried to kill one of the most notorious Templars and turncoats known to the Assassin Brotherhood. A reminder of the night when she almost died, only to be saved by the enemy. I carefully reach over her body and for her hands. Her hands are delicate in their own unique way. Each ring finger contains the bleeding insignia of the Assassin’s Creed. The burn from the initiation is still fresh. Without time to waste, I leave the comfort of the fort.

The air is still. The silence pays kindness to me as it helps me clear my thoughts. I have to be focused in order to successfully take down the gang. Yet, my mind wanders back to the lass. Why would they send someone fresh out of novice training after me? After a man who has spent nearly a decade of his life training with and against both forces? Judging by her looks, the lass is probably four or five years my junior. Judging from her technique, however, she is decades behind my skill level. A fresh recruit taken in and sheltered from the evils of the outside world.

Before I know it I have already reached the border of Stuyvesant’s Farm and Greenwich. The stronghold is nowhere in sight. I’ll have to get to higher ground. Using the convenient rift next to the side of a worn-down apartment, I catapult myself on top of the building. There it is: the stronghold. The smoke from the hideout blends into the early morning glow of New York. Using my vision, I find that there are guards still on night shift: ten of them to be exact, all dressed in the same apricot uniforms. I can’t seem to find their leader yet; however, the snipers are still perched in their nests protected by the guard dogs on the ground floor. Behind the snipers is the flagpole and underneath that is the storage for the poison vats.

First, I will take out the snipers so as to not raise awareness. Then, I’ll destroy the poison reserves to create a distraction to lure out their cowardly leader. Finally, I’ll kill the sorry bastard and tear down their filthy flag. It’s all routine. I take a Leap of Faith and land in the pile of snow at the foot of the apartment. I have to keep a distance from the perimeter, or else the dogs will detect me.

No matter how many times I’ve rid New York of gang activity, I never tire of cutting down a gang’s flag. It is a symbol of failure. Of the dilution of the Assassins. One less gang means that the city will flourish. Before climbing down the flagpole, I take in the glory of post-storm New York on a grey winter’s morning. From atop, the city looks beautiful. The clouds are free flowing as the smoke from the Assassin hideout has been snuffed by the fallen flag. I see miles upon miles of buildings, all covered in white. Civilians are opening their shops as the day begins. I smile to myself as I jump down.

A squadron of the King’s men arrive at the entrance of the stronghold all wearing their red colors proudly. Their captain approaches me with his hand extended. The captain, powdered wig and all, firmly shakes my hand, “So you’re the soldier Colonel Monro wouldn’t shut up about, eh? Mr. Shay Cormac?”

“That’d be me, aye,” I respond. He should not be speaking so nonchalantly about Monro like that.

The captain gives a firm nod, “Well, I haven’t seen the city prosperin’ this well ‘fore your ‘rival. These gangs have been the goddamn bloody blight of New York.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Captain…?”

“Smith.”

“Smith. Captain Smith,” the soldiers around these parts know me quite well since their colonel and I had been so close, “well, sir, before I head on out, mind if I take a look at my organization’s funds?”

“O’ course not, sir,” Captain Smith says, “right this way, Mr. Cormac.” He leads me to an underpass where I spot a chest full of coins and silver sitting atop a mahogany desk. I thank the captain before heading over to check on the Order’s funds. With over fifty-thousand pounds and counting, it’s safe to say that the Order is more than capable. Before I leave, I take a quick glance around the compound to make sure no one is watching me. I withdraw a few hundred pounds. They wouldn’t suffer if I were to take just a fraction of the money.

In truth, I didn’t take the money for my own personal pleasures. I have all of the funds that I need for basic survival through industrial renovations in the coast and the frontier. What I did need, though, is extra petty coin to buy proper clothes and medical supplies for the lass. I wonder how she is doing. Hopefully she has not awoken yet… it would be quite a shock for her to discover her residence at a Master Templar’s home; the girl would probably go into shock again.

I leave the now British-controlled compound and make my way to the nearest tailor. New York is known for its fine fashion industry, most of the fabric materials having come from mass illegal trading behind the British Empire’s back. With the ongoing struggles of the conflicts against the French and natives, the British have been increasingly neglecting their trading children, allowing for the colonists to freely barter with foreign nations and not having to worry about interference.

After a good five minutes walk, I finally find a tailor who specializes in women’s clothing. I enter the establishment cautiously. An elderly woman wearing a clean, blue-checkered dress and white shift stands behind a counter with a welcoming smile on her face. Her eyes light up when they see me; I assume she is eager for more guests. I return her contagious smile and approach the desk.

The woman speaks with a Scottish lilt that even Robert the Bruce would be envious of, “‘Ello, dearie! What would you be needin’ today?”

“Good mornin’, madame,” I greet her, “do you happen to have anyone available to craft a pair of trousers and a blouse fitted for a lass about my age?”

The old woman gives me a puzzling look. I don’t blame her. It’s not often that anyone sees women wearing trousers.

“Well, aye, actually, we do ‘ave some people who can work on that for you, love,” the woman says, “but, I do ‘ave a query: why on Earth would any lass want to wear that?”

“She’s a special one, I suppose,” I say before I can even stop myself.

Rather than interrogating me further, the old woman simply smiles, “That’s mighty kind o’ you to consider yer woman’s own style of clothes, dearie. She must be a real important lass to you.”

I remain silent at her comment while awkwardly pulling out the bag of coins.

“How much would it cost to get it finished in, say, two hours from now?” I ask the woman.

“You in a rush, dearie?” the old woman chuckles, “I’d normally charge for less, but considerin’ that prices are droppin’ due to the bloody war… I’d say that the job’s worth seventy-five shillings.”

I remove the exact amount of money from the bag of coins and place it in her bony hands. The woman gleefully takes it and places it in a metal safe behind the counter. After storing the money away safely, she turns to me, “They’ll be finished with yer lass’s clothes in two hours time, love. Thank you for stoppin’ by!”

“The pleasure’s all mine, madame,” I bow, before leaving the shop. Well, that’s one thing off the list. I take a look at the liveliness of the city and begin my journey back to Fort Arsenal. Again, my mind wanders back to the girl. A recruit fresh out of training like her has no means to be sent out to assassinate one of the most dangerous Templars. Thinking back at her hands, I subconsciously remove my own leather gloves. My hands feel naked without the usual garments protecting them. The cold weather immediately attacks my exposed palms and fingers causing a shiver to run through my entire body. I run my hands over the scars on each of my fourth fingers, the exact same burn marks that the lass has, the only difference being her’s were fresh while mine were forged ten years ago.

I finally reach the front door of my home, the all-too-familiar establishment staring back at me. I take a deep breath before entering, opening and closing the door as gently as possible so as to not wake up the girl. After removing my boots and weapons and unstrapping the belts on my coat, I slowly enter my chambers, where the lass should be resting.

I release a sigh as I spot a familiar form still in the same position from the previous night and this morning. Her eyes and lips are both closed; she is sleeping peacefully. I notice, however, that her cheeks have a reddish tint to them. I approach her and gently place my naked palm against her forehead and then against her cheeks. She is burning. Her body temperature causes a nasty contrast between both of our skins.

“Shite, lass,” I curse. It is no surprise that she would catch a fever after that attack. The rusting of my blade is more than likely the cause of the infection. Luckily with the extra funds (and the extra time), I can find her a doctor. Once again, I prepare for another journey: this time, to the nearest doctor’s office.

“Give her these for the next few weeks and she will recover in no time,” the stout and portly physician orders as he hands me a large vial of foul-smelling amber liquid, “remember: her body can only handle small teaspoons every few hours. Giving her too much will send her into shock. It’ll hurt her even more.”

“Aye, doc,” I reply, “is there anythin’ else that I can do for her to speed up the recovery?”

The doctor sighs, annoyance plastered on his face, “If there were, I’d tell you, man. Unfortunately, there’s not much that can be done. I suppose that you can have her drink plenty of water and keep her clean as her wound will prevent her from getting around the house.”

I nod, taking in the advice of the sour man, “Aye. That I will do. Thank you for your help, doc.”

“Well, it’s my job ain’t it, mate?”

“‘Suppose so.”

I hand the asshole the coin before he takes his departure. Finally. My head is pounding just listening to that sorry excuse of a guy speak for almost two hours. More pressing matters are at stake here, however. I turn my attention towards the lass, who is still sleeping, albeit a little cleaner. While she was unconscious, the doctor and I replaced the sheets and cleaned her wounds. There is less blood, fortunately.

Suddenly, a thought appears in my head. “Fuck,” I swear to myself. I nearly forgot about the lass’s clothes at the tailor shop! For the third time today I have to leave my home. As the door shuts behind me, I decide to take a more direct approach to the shop. I spot a peaceful mare roped in front of a tavern. A cheeky grin slowly makes its way to my face. Surely the owner wouldn’t mind if I take his dear horse out for a run. Without any second thoughts, I untangle the reigns and hop onto the beast.

I’m back in my home… again. With the light, fabric package tucked under my arm, I tiptoe into my chambers to check on the lass. I round the corner only to find that my bed lays empty, except for bloodstained blankets. What catches my eye, though, is a trail of fresh blood on the wooden floor. To my right, I notice a bloody handprint plastered on my desk. The window is open as well, inviting a cold, saltine sea breeze into the room.

“Fuckin’ hell, lass,” I swear, “you couldn’t have gotten that far with that injury and fever.” After placing the package on the bed, I storm out the fort in search for the missing girl. Obviously she thinks that she can escape given that I was not present. I climb the windows of my home in order to get a higher vantage point. Using my vision, I spot the young woman hobbling towards the harbor clutching her arm. A poor choice, really. No one wants to assist an individual beaten to a pulp, lest they wish to suffer the same fate from whichever asshole caused the mess in the first place.

Well, there was really only one way to bring her back without causing a ruckus. I climb to the top of the fort and use the trees to my advantage. After freerunning to an area of foliage closer to the docks, I load my air rifle with sleep darts. The lass continues to walk, albeit slowly. People give her odd looks before she rounds the corner behind a stack of shipping crates. Unfortunately for her, she would have to end up in the hands of the enemy once again. I take a deep breath before adjusting the rifle to eye level. Click. One shot and the lass goes down.

It has been almost an hour. I do not see any signs of consciousness in the girl yet. While she sleeps, I ponder about why exactly I’m even helping her. What can I do for her, really? How would the Grandmaster react to this mess? What if she is a spy sent by Achilles himself? It makes sense, actually: trainees are expendable… to an extent. However, I believe that I am asking myself the wrong questions. Who is she? Why did she join the Brotherhood? Does she have potential to join the Templars?

She looks so peaceful. Her hair frames her beautiful, rosy face like a veil while the sheets cast a protective shield over her. The fever causes her lips and cheeks to be accentuated, covering her face in a red hue. Her frame, slightly visible under the thin duvet, is that of a strong and agile individual. It is obvious that the Assassins have trained her decently. Not well enough to kill a Templar agent, but well enough to pass training and to be sent on ground control missions.

My mind is focused on the lass’s face and body before I hear a soft groan from the bed. Before I know it, I’m face to face with her. She is frozen in fear. Her working hand clings onto the sheets until her knuckles are white. I feel as if I should say something to calm her nerves; the poor thing looks as if she would faint at any second.

“Easy, lass,” I say quietly, “I won’t hurt you.”

Her lips quiver ever so slightly before she asks in a meek, coarse voice, “Wh-why didn’t you kill me?”

Ah, the question that I have been thinking about for the past few days and still haven’t gotten a clear answer for.

I dodge the question, “How are you feeling?”

She shakes her head in fear; tears begin rolling down her pink face, “No- you can’t just… take me in like this! Why am I not dead? You’re Shay Cormac. The Templar. The Assassin killer.”

The girl begins to bawl, “Why am I not dead?” I can barely understand her through the hiccups and tears. Before I can respond, she goes at it again, “Why am I not dead while the others are? Brothers and sisters working for our Brotherhood to seek purpose in their lives… dead! And at the hands of you people, nonetheless!”

I let her grieve for a moment. Watching the lass cry, I feel a sort of pain in my chest. The pain reminds me of a time when I believed in the Brotherhood as well. When I sought out their cause in order to fulfill my life. I understand her loss. For a time in my life, I believed that one had to be dedicated to a certain cause, a certain creed, in order to have direction and motivation, else life would be meaningless. However, those thoughts have long gone now.

As the lass’s tears dwindle down to sniffles, I take a chance and speak, “I didn’t kill you because you were different. You have somethin’ that the others don’t. If you’ll allow me to show you, lass, I would be more than glad to.”

The girl looks at me warily while rubbing her eyes. Eventually, she nods and winces at the pain, knowing that there is not much else she can do. “Alright, lass. Calm down,” I reassure her.

I slowly reach over to her clean arm. As expected, she pulls back, so hard in fact that she accidentally hits the nightstand. “Fuck,” she mutters under her breath while hissing in pain.

I sigh, “I promise I won’t hurt you. Relax. Please, let me see your arm.”

Her eyes focus onto me as if I’m the bloody devil; she relaxes her working arm as I gently hold onto it, rolling up the cotton sleeve with delicacy. On her wrist and ring finger lay the fresh, bleeding symbols of the Assassin’s Creed. The blood sticks to my fingers.

I look into the girl’s eyes, “Tell me, when did they do this?”

She meets my gaze and answers in a quiet tone, “I was initiated into the Brotherhood three nights ago.”

If the look of disgust isn’t prevalent on my face before, it is now. I place her arm down and search for the medical kit.

“You know what that means, don’t you?” I ask.

Silence. She doesn’t say a word. I’m not sure if it’s because she doesn’t know the answer or if it’s because she is too fearful to tell me the truth.

I place the medical kit onto my desk and remove the roll of gauze. Before I wrap her wound, however, I look into her eyes, “Now, why would the Assassins send a recruit, fresh outta trainin’, after a skilled Templar agent, hm? ‘Specially a Templar that has hunted down and killed several Master Assassins? You know what happened to Master Adéwalé, right?”

I can see that the girl has difficulty containing her true feelings. She knows that she is expendable, that she is a pawn. Yet, she is too afraid to admit it. “You claim that your brothers and sisters have joined the Brotherhood to seek purpose and direction in their lives. Is that the same for you, too?”

Again, her lip quivers. She’s trying too hard to hold in her emotions. Alas, a few tears slip down her burning face as she answers me in defeat, “I- They told me that the Assassins needed someone with dignity, honor, and conviction. That their Brotherhood fought for the principles of freedom for the people against the evils of tyranny. Yes, I guess you can say that I did join them for the same reasons as the others.”

Damn him. Damn Achilles and the so-called leaders who blindly follow him. Damn them all. The Assassins’ power is beginning to dwindle in the colonies and he’s seeking any new and sorry souls to join the Brotherhood. To him, they are merely pawns, dispensable beings with no other purpose than to supply the Brotherhood with numbers so that they can daunt the Templars. He and the other Masters don’t care for these trainees at all. And this poor girl is simply roped into the centuries old war.

“Now you have your answer as to why I didn’t kill you,” I say, “it ain’t fair to murder someone who doesn’t have as much experience as me. Hell, how old are you anyway, lass?”

“I turned twenty last summer,” she says.

“Christ,” I mutter in shock, “you joined ‘em quite late.”

“I suppose so.”

An awkward silence fills the space. Neither of us say a word. I actually enjoy the silence, as it gives me ample time to think of a plan. After the lass heals, how should I bring her to Master Kenway? Should I even bring her to the Grandmaster? The questions linger in my mind, though I push them aside in order to focus on her health. Hell, another thought crosses my mind: I don’t even know her name yet.

“I’m gonna wrap your burns with this,” I bring the roll of gauze to her eye level, “don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”

She does not put up a fight and lets me wrap her arm. She hisses as I gently place the fabric onto the burn mark, “God, my head’s spinning.”

“Aye, that’s ‘cause you caught a nasty fever,” I interject, “after I wrap your wound, I gotta give you that cursed drink over there.”

Both of our eyes glance at the amber medicine sitting on my desk. I catch her gaze and try to get a laugh out of her, “Doctor’s orders, love.”

I swear, I see her cheeks turn even more pink at the nickname. It’s nice to know that the lass has a sense of humor.

“You seem to know who I am. Now, pray tell me your name, lass,” I say.

She tells me her name. I repeat it in my head a few times; it’s a beautiful name that’s well-suited for a girl like her. Despite the tiredness present on her face, she still retains the beauty of youth, something that has been long gone for me. My days working for the Order have drained all my energy, leaving barely any time for me to deal with physical appearances.

After giving the lass her medicine and cleaning her wounds, I depart the room to give her more time to rest, turning around to give her one last piece of advice, “You need to stay in bed. It’ll be a few weeks until the fever dies down.” I can see the look of worry etched onto her innocent face. I know that she’s terrified of what the Assassins would think if they are to find out what has happened to her.

I reassure her with a soft smile, “You don’t need to worry ‘bout the Assassins. They won’t know that you’re here.”

“How can I trust you with that?” she asks.

“Why’d I keep you alive, then?” I counter.

She doesn’t know what to say and remains silent.

I sigh as I get up from the armchair, “Get some rest. I’ll be right next door.” The lass shifts in my bed, getting herself comfortable before closing her eyes and drifting off into a deep sleep. I respect her. I truly do. It takes a lot of balls to go on a suicide mission. Well, what other choice did she really have? I would not have expected her to turn down the mentor’s orders; hell, I didn’t turn down his orders when I served under him all those years ago.

I can see the glow of the moon through my windows. It’s about time I retire for the night. I remove my boots and begin the arduous task of unbuckling the millions of belts wrapped around my body. After a few minutes of mindless undressing, I’m finally in a state of comfort in a simple shirt and pair of trousers. The only remnants of my day’s clothes that remain on me are my hidden blades. I’m not yet ready to enjoy a night’s sleep without them yet. I close my eyes and drift into an endless sleep.

“Tell me a little ‘bout yourself, lass.”

A few weeks time has passed. The girl is well on her feet now, her fever having been completely eliminated. Unfortunately, her wound still remains. Though none of the wounds are painful, they are quite obvious: she has a giant scar stretching from her wrist to her elbow. Her fingers are bleeding less, but the Assassins’ insignia burns brightly on both. All of her wounds still remain. Not only the ones on her arm and fingers, but the one in her heart as well. The betrayal.

These past few weeks have been difficult gaining her trust. I don’t blame her. Who would trust the enemy? She is only now beginning to open up to me. She trusts me enough to let me make her meals in the morning, afternoons, and evenings. She also trusts me enough to sleep in my home, albeit with hidden blades equipped all day and night.

She twirls a lock of hair around her finger, “What do you wish to know?”

“Anythin’,” I say while filling a cauldron with water and lugging it over to the fireplace.

She ponders for a moment before drawing in her breath, “My family emigrated here years ago. We moved to Virginia. My father was a tenant farmer while my mother raised me at home.”

I take a seat beside her after getting out the cutting board and vegetables. As I dice the fresh produce, I make brief eye contact with her, signalling for her to continue. She says, “We were very poor. We were constantly moving across Virginia and sheltering near slaves’ cabins.” Her eyes show her sorrow. Ah, her story is one of an immigrant’s: like mine.

“My father decided one day that enough was enough. He managed to raise enough coin through cash crops to move our family to New York,” she says with a soft smile on her face. The way she speaks of her father brings a familiar feeling to me, one that inspires warmth in my chest.

“We lived happily there for a while in New York. I remember, I was about eleven at the time,” she draws in her breath again, “While my mother raised me in the home, my father taught me real world skills. Soon enough, I learned how to pickpocket, how to talk my way out of situations, and even how to handle a gun and blade. At the time, my father switched careers and was working as a deckhand and ship navigator which allowed him to gain all of his physical knowledge and pass it onto me.”

She pauses for a moment. The look on her face tells me that she does not want to speak any further. I don’t say a word, hoping that my silence would encourage her. Soon enough, she does. The lass stares at the coffee table and says in the quietest voice, “One day, he was assigned on a transportation trip. He was to help with the navigation process,” Wait. Transportation trip? Nine years ago? It couldn’t be… “the crew didn’t know that there was a storm that day. I think you can guess what happened next.”

There is a moment of silence between us. Eventually, it is interrupted by her sniffles. She shakes her head, “I will never forget the day the captain came to our house and told us the news. My mother was heartbroken.” I so desperately want, no need to know if this shipwreck was the same one that I lost my father to.

“Wait, love. Before you continue, I must ask,” I say quietly while placing down my knife, “was the ship that your father was assigned to a merchant fishing vessel captained by Mr. Connelly?”

She gives me a look of surprise and answers the question, “If I can recall correctly, yes. His name was Connelly. I know that it was a private merchant vessel, but the captain, Connelly, was to share a part of the proceeds with the British. My father had worked with those Brits, Scots, and Irishmen for a while. How do you know his name?”

That is all I need to hear. I can hardly believe my ears. I guess the world truly is a small place. Before I reveal to her the coincidence, I wish to hear her entire story. I tell her not to worry about it and to continue. 

She regains her composure before finishing the tale, “Ever since then, it was only my mother and me,” she chuckles, a small laugh filled with venom, “work isn’t easily found for a single woman. She told me this, one night. This one statement. She told me: ‘Whatever you do, my child, don’t become a whore. A whore like me.’”

The lass purses her lips. I can tell that this is a sensitive topic. The most I can do now is offer my ear and shoulder. I do not know what women in her profession must endure.

“She died when I was thirteen,” the lass says quietly, “syphilis can be quite the killer.”

Again, a moment of silence. We seem to be able to share these moments of quiet together with little awkwardness. It’s quite natural. Two streams of tears flow from her delicate eyes. I so desperately want to tell her that it will be alright. I pick up the knife and resume chopping the vegetables. It isn’t until a few minutes later that the girl speaks.

“Apologies,” she coughs into her arm, “she was the only family I had after my father passed away. I made do with the little money that I had before it ran out. By then, the landlord kicked me out, after bargaining to sleep with me, of course. It took me a while to learn how to survive on the streets, how to pick pockets without raising awareness or how to hide in taverns and inns during closing hours. The years felt more like days, or even hours, to be honest. Until several months ago, life felt like a blur.”

I continue listening to her while at the same time preparing supper, getting lost in her story- or rather, the way she tells it. She really does have a way with words, weaving together a story like a distinguished poet. I can listen to her for hours. She inhales, “After seven years of living on the streets like a dog, a miracle happened. This man approached me out of the blue. I remember the day quite clearly, actually: right after I picked the pocket of a poor, unsuspected fellow, this brute in a grey hooded outfit slaps his hand on my back. I recalled my fear; I was afraid that the victim of my crime would have noticed. The mysterious man whispered to me, ‘Go pick seventy pounds worth of coin and bring it back to me.’ He had that musical Irish lilt, kind of like you. But then, I thought, to hell with that. I might as well just run off with the damn money!”

I know exactly who you’re talking about, love. There’s only one bloke that would go around testing folks.

“And that was exactly what I did. I picked the pockets of about ten different people in Greenwich before making a run for it to the countryside. I figured that the guy would make an effort to hunt me down and that this was how my life would end. I mean, the man was covered in weaponry and his presence radiated power and fear. Besides, who in his or her right mind would even consider asking a street rascal for money?” she scoffs at the last part.

A smile breaks out on her face, “Well, ‘lo and behold… the brute did track me down. In fact, he was at the abandoned farm before I damn well even got there! To say I was shocked was an understatement. Let me tell you, though, the guy looked terrifying. Yet, he had a sense of calmness to him. He didn’t look angry, even though I basically robbed him of seventy pounds. I’d go as far as to say that he looked glad. Relieved. He came over to me and said, ‘Congratulations, lass. You passed.’ I remembered being more confused than an immigrant in a foreign country. He introduced himself to me as a certain Liam O’Brien. From that moment on, my life was changed. He told me about the Assassin Brotherhood and how it sought to restore freedom in the colonies, to advocate, serve, and protect those who cannot support themselves. He said that it was the Templar Order which would guarantee the rise of the British Empire and the fall of the people. ‘We fight the Templars because we seek the betterment of these lands. Their belief is that tyranny is the only way for peace to occur,’ he said to me. Pretty words, all of it. I fell for it. I really did.”

I say, “Aye, them Assassins tend to sugarcoat the nuances of life quite often.”

She gives me a brief nod, “Yeah, and they’re damn good at it, too. Before I knew it I followed him to the Homestead, where he introduced me to the Mentor and the rest of the Master Assassins. Though, Shay, I wouldn’t say that their bogus rhetoric was the only thing that attracted me to the Brotherhood. The Mentor and the others provided me with a home. They welcomed me with open arms. I think that is what makes saying goodbye to them so hard.”

“I, for a time, felt the exact same way, lass,” I admit, “it, too, was Liam who brought me into the Brotherhood.”

She gives an understanding nod, “He spoke of you, but only briefly.”

“Bet all he had to say was bullshite, anyways,” I scoff.

“He said that you were a good friend, but that you were disillusioned by the grandeur of the Templar Order.”

“Funny comin’ outta his big mouth,” I say nonchalantly while bringing the cutting board over to the cauldron and throwing in the chopped vegetables.

She smiles again, “I guess it is funny. It’s also funny how he and the mentors decided that it was a fabulous idea to send me, a trainee Assassin, to kill you, a Templar known for his atrocities against his old allies in the Brotherhood.”

“‘Atrocities’ is quite a subjective way to describe my actions,” I retort, “”Justice’ is a better word to use.”

She does not look impressed. She sighs before continuing, “Anyways, a few months passed and all they had me do was train with the other novices and run small tasks in New York. Mostly eavesdropping missions. They claimed that my work was ‘vital to the destruction of the Templars and the British Empire.’ It wasn’t until two months ago that they assigned me to this suicide mission.”

I see the look of pain on her face. Her lips are ever so slightly drooping down at the corners, her eyes avoiding my gaze. It’s as if she’s ashamed to even be associated with them. It’s a special sort of pain, one that very few people can understand. I understand it. I understand her feelings because the Assassins did the very same thing to me. Sure, the procedures of their moral downfall weren’t exactly the same. The scenarios, though, are practically identical. We didn’t betray them. They betrayed us.

“What are you looking at?”

I quickly turn my head to look at her. She appears to be confused. I answer her, “Nothin’. Just thinkin’.”

“About?” she inquires.

“Us.”

She gives me a funny look. That came out wrong. I cleared my throat, “I mean- I’m just thinkin’ ‘bout how our circumstances are so similar.”

“Really? How so? Liam never mentioned your background any more than he did,” she pipes.

“Aye,” I reply, “guess he doesn’t want you knowin’ ‘bout the ‘enemy.’ I’ll tell you how we’re so similar. For one, you recall how I asked you ‘bout that shipwreck, aye?”

She nods.

“Well,” I say, “that very same shipwreck that your father was on… was also the one that killed my da.”

The look on her face. Her eyes look like they’re about to pop out of their sockets; her jaw is hanging down to the ceiling; her eyebrows are scrunched up. I’ll have to admit, she does look cute like that.

I bark, “Careful, else you’re gonna catch some flies like that.”

She closes her mouth.

“He wasn’t the only one on that ship, either. I was there, too.”

She opens her mouth again, this time, her hand flying up to cover it. She scoffs and says slowly, “Y-you… you can’t be serious… right?”

“I’m dead serious, love,” I say, “yeah, that’s why I was so damn curious when you brought up that event. Can’t believe the stars have aligned in such terrible circumstances like that.”

She asks, “Were you a deckhand, as well?”

“Aye,” I answer, “my da wished to train me to become a sailor. He thought it lucrative work, at the time. Since it was only him and me, I was more than excited to accompany him wherever the seas may take us. It was actually where I met Liam, too. Before Liam’s father passed away, they used to work on the docks with us.”

She swallowed, “You guys really did go way back, huh?”

I smile and nod. It’s so odd telling a stranger my story about Liam and my father. Well, I don’t even know if I should consider the lass a stranger; after all, we’ve both been through some pretty damning things.

“I remember how rough the waters were that day. I don’t normally get sick out in the ocean, but on that day, I was throwin’ up over the railings!” I exclaim, “Winds weren’t the kindest either. We lost our first man through the winds. Swept him right off his feet and into the dark abyss.”

The lass scoots her chair closer and leans forward slightly as if she has trouble hearing me. Her attentiveness brings a soft smile to my face. I’m surprised that she’d even want to hear anything from a Templar, no less one that almost killed her. She waits for me to continue.

“Soon after, we realized that it was impossible to transport the goods through the god awful weather. We had to throw some of the shite off board. Connelly wasn’t too happy ‘bout it. After all, he’d be the one they deemed responsible for it,”I breathe, “when we shifted courses to head back to New York harbor, the mast broke. Unfortunately, one of the younger deckhands was almost knocked off the ship; he was barely hangin’ onto the railings. My father rushed over to help him,” I pause to glance quickly at her. She still has the same look on her face, a look of sadness. Sadness for me.

“The gales took both of them. Just like the other poor sucker. Lost in the abyss,” I say. Suddenly, she shifts her chair. She is closer to me now than I remembered before. The lass extends a hand and gently rests it on my shoulder. I jump a little at her contact; I am shocked, to say the least.

She ignores my sudden movement and instead looks me in the eyes with a gaze that meant only empathy, “I’m so sorry.”

I give her a soft grin and clear my throat, “Quite alright. Not your fault. Unless you have the magical ability to conjure up storms like a siren… which I highly doubt is the case.”

She chuckles at the lighthearted jest before rubbing the area between my shoulderblades. The look on her face has not changed. We both lost our fathers to the same storm... I don’t know if she is doing this for me or for herself. Again, we share a comfortable moment of silence. It’s so odd how we are so similar yet different. Our experiences mesh as if we are the same person. Betrayed by those we once called family. Losing family a second time.

After a few minutes I look at her and say, “What the Assassins did to you was wrong. It shouldn’t have happened. I don’t know what’s goin’ on through their bloody minds, but they are only making things worse in the grand scheme of things.”

“I know. Yet, I think fate has a unique way of bringing people together at the most unconventional times,” she says.

“I guess you’re right about that.”

Before I can even stop myself, I blurt, “I think I should take you to our Grandmaster.”

The color on her face drains making her look like a ghost. She turns to me with a look of fear like that of a child experiencing a scolding. She says softly, “You can’t be serious, Shay. I- the man’s going to kill me. On the spot.”

I poke back, “Keep in mind, lass, that I was in the same boat as you once. I was lucky enough to be saved by a British colonel working for the Templars. He saw potential in me and brought me to Master Kenway. And I,” I take her hand in mine, “shall do the same for you.”

She does something that I did not expect. The lass yanks her hand out of my grasp and stands up with enough force causing the chair to fall. She says sternly, “I don’t even know if I want to join the Templars, Shay! You can’t just bestow a fate upon me that I didn’t even ask for! Do keep in mind that I was only just betrayed by my ‘family’ no more than a month ago.”

I take a moment to ponder. I should not have given her that option too soon. Unlike her, I was able to adjust into Templar duties at a slower, more natural pace. If only Monro were still here. How did he do it?

“You’re right,” I say, “that was a bit brash of me. My apologies, lass.”

She did not say anything. There is nothing to say.

“Lass, I think, though, that it is worth your time to at least learn what the Templars truly seek,” I attempt to compromise.

She raises an eyebrow. I explain to her, “The Assassins probably assume that you’re dead, by the looks of it. Which, in turn, gives me ample time to introduce you to what the Order really is about.”

The look on her face shows that she is still skeptical. She asks, “You can’t keep me a secret forever. Eventually, your superiors will find out about me. What then?”

“That,” I say, “is a problem for another time. For now, I will train you. And I will teach you. Besides, where else do you have left to go?”

I can tell that the question catches her off guard, as she sharply turns her head towards me. She knows that I am right. Her only family has severed ties with her. They were the turncoats, the turncoats to their own followers… not the other way around. At the same time, her face shows one of relief. I see the muscles around her eyes and mouth relax as she softly exhales.

“You make a valid point,” she concedes,” Very well. When shall we begin?”

The boiling of the broth in the cauldron briefly steals our attention before I turn to her and ask, “Why not now?”

That my redemption is found in ashes. That I must burn away the past to set things right. 

The following months I spend training her. While the Assassins taught her the basic freerunning and assassination techniques, frontier survival skills, and sneaking patterns, she brings her own skill to the table: pickpocketing and lockpicking. I have yet to see a trainee master either skills so quickly like her. She tells me that she has a knack for both, as she was forced to spend many years on the streets. Her natural talent is evident.

Despite her adaptation to everything the Assassins have taught her, she still lacks the one thing that distinguishes the skilled from the dead: perception. Her lack of perception and awareness was what landed her in hot water with me a year ago. It is a natural ability that the Assassins rarely delve on. What she lacks in awareness in the senses, though, she makes up in dedication. The lass is one of the most dedicated initiates- no- people that I’ve ever met. I thought Liam and Hope were some of the most hardworking folks there were to be, but I was wrong. This girl has potential. Potential. Such a silly word thrown around by the ones seeking to bait those beneath them. I will be a different leader. If not for her, then for the future of the Order. I know that she will be vital for us.

At the same time, though, I don’t want her to join our cause. I don’t want her to align herself with the Assassins, either. I want her to be her own person. As the year runs its course, I realize something: the lass is who I wanted to become. She is given an opportunity to run away from the war, to run away from the deep, dark philosophy. The Assassins believe she is dead, and the Templars do not know of her existence. She is living a life of secrecy. She is given a second chance. This is a life that I wanted… that I want. And I am wallowing in my own self pity by dragging her into the depths of this centuries-old feud with me.

It is winter. The frontier is encapsulated in white. It is a beautiful sight that I will never forget. The white-tipped trees remain still as the winter sun shines down on us. The birds sing their song while the other animals of the forest carry on their typical days of hunting and being hunted. Despite the magical setting of the frontier, my mind is drawn to more personal thoughts. Exactly one year ago from this day, I encountered a young woman who was sent after skin. This young woman grows on me every day. I am unsure if she knows her effect on me. Though we have limited time to train together, I allow her to stay at Fort Arsenal for however long she wishes to. So far she hasn’t left, or should I say, made any attempts to leave.

Neither of us have made a move on each other. We have kept our relationship strictly professional. Does she want more? Do I want more? I don’t know. We have made one major decision together, however. The lass has agreed to finally meet Master Kenway. Now, this can go one of a few ways. Either he will accept her and my word and bring her into the Order, he will kill her or assign me the task of doing so, or he will let her go and chastise me for holding secrets against the Order and against him personally. I hope Haytham gives her a chance like he gave me all those years ago.

“Shay?”

I wipe elk blood off my coat, “Hm?” Today is yet another day spent in the frontier. The lass is learning more hands-on techniques in the outdoor environment. I am teaching her how to use an animal carcass as shelter. She sticks her hands under her armpits while shivering, the cold biting into her skin.

“What do you think the Grandmaster will say about me?” she asks, her voice laced in apprehension.

This is something that I have been thinking about for a while. I am unsure of how to answer her. Though I can often read the Grandmaster like a book, him having shared some of his darkest secrets with me, I know that Haytham can be unpredictable at times: especially when the circumstances involve the Order.

I give her a half-assed answer as I am cutting open the elk’s stomach, “Frankly, I’m not too sure, love. The Grandmaster takes the Order very seriously, obviously. He may think that you’re a spy. But one thing I do know for a fact about him is that he is open to new possibilities. Before I joined the Order, Haytham was skeptical of me. Yet, he took a chance to learn of my abilities and what I could provide for the Templars.”

After cutting open the stomach lining, I turn to the lass, “I am only hoping that he does the same for you.”

She sighs, “Well that’s reassuring.”

“I’m not trying to give you false hope. I am not confident that he will appreciate me keeping secrets,” I turn to her and notice her scared expression, “but, I don’t think you should worry about it too much at the moment. We still have a few days before our meeting with him.”

The girl nods in defeat as we resume our outdoors lesson.

A week passes. We are currently seeking refuge at the Green Dragon Tavern in Boston while we await the Grandmaster’s arrival. During the past several days, the lass has been incredibly quiet and reserved. It makes sense; I do not blame her. Haytham Kenways is a leader who demands the utmost respect and civility upon meeting. The man radiates class and intimidation. Though, under that skin of propriety is a man of puzzle. Of vulnerability. Haytham is a man of two faces- of two lives. I can only pray that she will be brave enough to meet the man face to face.

The joviality of the establishment brightens her mood, however. The sounds of the residents and patrons enjoying themselves provide a lighthearted atmosphere while the songs and shanties from the musicians make the tavern more vibrant. Earlier, the barmaid Catherine offered her a drink to which she denied. The girl claimed that she did not want to look too casual in front of the Grandmaster. A wise choice.

I spy from the corner of my eye the lass biting her lip so hard that it is turning white. I place a hand on her shoulder, “Relax, love. It’ll be fine.”

She looks at me and releases her lip from the confines of her teeth; she sighs and gives me a quick nod. As if her nod is a signal, the door to our shared room opens. The lass freezes; she holds her breath. I pat the small of her back before the door opens fully, revealing the Grandmaster himself. Haytham slowly closes the door so as not to disturb any residents and locks it- seems like the conversation in this room stays in this room.

“Master Kenway,” I nod to Haytham.

“Master Cormac, a pleasure,” he smiles at me, and then turns his head towards the girl, “and you must be her. The woman who Shay has delighted in my knowledge with for the past few weeks.”

The lass clears her throat and nods, almost as if she’s giving a bow. She responds, “Y-yes, sir. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir. Shay- I mean, Master Cormac, has spoken highly of you.”

Haytham raises his eyebrow before glancing at me with what seems like a look of contempt masked with feigned delight. He says, “Ah… yet, it seems that he has spoken less of you with me, miss.”

It is awkward, but true. I have not been entirely truthful with Haytham about my meeting the lass. Well, it’s rather a lie by omission. I had only recently told him about the girl’s existence two weeks ago. Both the Grandmaster’s and the lass’s eyes are on me.

I swallow before saying, “Only so you two could have a proper introduction. I didn’t want her being too intimidated by your presence and authority, Master Kenway. And I wish for you to see her potential and abilities first hand.”

Haytham seems to find my response acceptable. He and the lass trade some pleasantries and formal introductions before he explains the work of the Order.

“I’m aware that you used to work under the Assassins, but that your allegiance has somewhat shifted. And I’m also aware that Shay has furthered your knowledge on what the Templar Order is truly about,” Haytham says.

The lass straightens her back and answers, “Yes, sir. I was deployed in Greenwich as a Stalker, the men and women assigned to track down high profile Templars in the cities and the frontier. When Shay brought me into his home, he learned of the betrayal. The Assassins’ betrayal against me.”

Haytham nods but remains quiet. I can see the cogs rotating in his head. He is wary of her, as he should be. After a moment of silence, he speaks, “Funny that you bring up the topic of betrayal, miss. I’m not sure if you have heard, but Shay has actually experienced something similar to your little anecdote.”

I am surprised why Haytham would bring that up during our conversation. I begin to sweat a little. The lass looks at me in confusion before the Grandmaster continues, “However, that is a story for another time.”

Haytham takes a step forward, causing the lass to take a step back. He smiles at her, “Very well. You’ve given reason to at least consider you for the Order. Now, I need you to demonstrate.”

I knew that he’d say that. The lass swallows, but nods. I have trained her for this. I know that she will make him proud- will make me proud.

“What will you have me do, sir?” she asks with a little more confidence than before.

Haytham beckons the lass and me to follow him, “Follow me, and I’ll show you.”

Boston in the winter looks identical to New York. Once again, the buildings are topped in layers of snow while small flecks of white rain down on us. Though the sun has already taken its rest, the nightlife in Boston provides ample cover, as hundreds of folks are still out and about. Haytham turns towards the lass and says, “You see that lone pigeon over there? On the balcony of that inn?”

I use my vision and spy the little bird, happily perched on the railing of the building. I know that the lass sees it, too, even with her lack of the vision; I’ve trained her well. She confirms and asks the Grandmaster what to do next.

“Attached to the bird’s foot is a letter. I want you to extract it, and bring it to me,” Haytham says calmly with a smirk on his face. Shite. I have not taught her interception yet. The lass nods, but before she takes off, Haytham calls out, “Oh! I do not want any harm done to the little fellow, as well. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the girl says, her voice cracking a little. She turns to me one last time and we share a brief, yet silent exchange of encouragement. Use your skills, lass. 

About ten minutes later, the lass returns with the letter in her hand and a toothy smile on her face. I reciprocate the same smile; I am proud of her. She has proven herself well. She has not let me down. Haytham seems to think the same as he takes the letter out of her hand.

The Grandmaster nods in approval, “Well, miss. I’m going to be completely honest: I did not expect you to succeed. You have, indeed, subverted my expectations,” he turns to me, “and you, Shay, have not disappointed me.”

Master Kenway asks us to return back to the tavern, as he has an assignment for us. As he turns his back, the lass and I share yet another quick glance and beam at each other.

I whisper to her in admiration, “You’ve used your skills well, love.”

“Only because I was taught by one of the best.”

Once an Assassin, now their pursuer. I must destroy those who I once called brother. 

“Do you swear to uphold the principles of our order and all that for which we stand?”

“I do.”

“And to never share our secrets nor divulge in the true nature of our work?”

“I do.”

“And to do so until death, whatever the cost?”

There is a pause. Hesitation. A moment of silence. Is this the right choice?

“I do.”

“Then we welcome you into our fold, sister. Together, we will usher in the dawn of a new world. One defined by purpose and order. You… are a Templar.”

“Shay?”

“Yes, lass?”

The lass picks at her hand, a habit of hers that occurs when she is nervous, “Did you feel hesitation during your initiation into the Templar Order?”

It takes me a while to answer her question. In the past, I had dwelled on it all the time. Finally, I turn to the lass and say, “Well, I believe that everyone feels a bit uneasy durin’ such a life-changing event. Personally, I knew that I had to join the Templars in order to stop the Assassins. It was my calling, thus it wasn’t really ‘life-changing’ for me. Sure, I was nervous during the initiation, but what’s more important is how I felt after I made my decision. I was confident. I had no regrets. I ask you the same questions, love. Do you still feel hesitation? Like you’ve made a mistake?”

The lass shakes her head, “No, I do not. Like you, I think I’ve made the right choice to leave those who I once called family.”

Then, she asks me something that I have long waited for, “What happened between you and the Assassins, Shay? Every time someone alludes to it, you always shy away. Every time I ask, you always push it off. Please,” she takes me hand, “tell me what happened.”

It’s a story of pain. Of suffering. It’s something that I do not wish to relive again. Even thinking about it is making me nauseous. During moments of silence, my mind always manages to trail back to it. I can still hear, see, and feel everything. I begin to shiver and sweat.

“Are you alright?” the lass asks worriedly.

She needs to know the truth. I’ve kept it away long enough.

“I’m… fine,” I saw weakly, “i-it’s just a story that I really don’t divulge in often. But, you deserve to know what happened, love.”

I tell her the entire story. Of Lisbon. Of the Precursor Temple. Of the earthquake. Of the aftermath of the tsunami. Of the millions of innocent lives lost. Of the lies and treachery fed to me by the Mentor and Master Assassins. Of the betrayal that I experienced from those who I called family. Of the nightmares that have plagued me for years on end. Of how real it feels. Every. Single. Day. 

I feel my face. It is wet. Since when did I start crying? I can’t look like this in front of her. But at the same time, I feel light. It feels as if a sliver of weight has been lifted off of my chest. Like I can breathe. Why? Why does it feel like that? I didn’t even feel like this when I told Haytham everything. 

Suddenly, a soft hand caresses my cheek. Two thumbs wipe away the streams of tears. I turn my face slowly towards her. The lass’s lips are pressed together lightly, forming a straight line. Her eyes seem just a bit shinier than they normally are. They show sympathy. Not empathy… I know that she has difficulty relating to the severity of the Lisbon event. Few people can. And those people are long dead. Killed by the exact same betrayal.

How could I continue without her by my side? The girl is the light to my darkness. For the past year, she has been by my side, through missions of peril and through moments of joviality. I’ve felt more alive in the year of 1759 than any other years of my sorry life. She has grown with me. We have grown together.

“Shay… I didn’t know,” she whispers, “I’m so sorry you had to deal with this.”

I hear a few sniffles coming from her end. Even though she never had to experience Lisbon or Port-au-Prince, she understands how to care during the moment.

She gently tilts my face towards herself, “I can’t even begin to imagine how you dealt with it all these years. How you felt. This pain… no one deserves to go through this pain, Shay. One thing I want you to know, Shay, is that Lisbon is not your fault.”

“My conscience begs to differ, lass,” I snap unexpectedly. I didn’t mean to. Please don’t take it the wrong way, lass.

Thankfully, she does not. She keeps wiping away my tears, “I am in no position to say otherwise, for this is something personal to your story. I apologize if I overstepped any boundaries. I just want to at least bear some of this pain in order to lessen it for you. I don’t want you having to think about this anymore, darling.”

Darling. Now that’s a first. I perk up a little at the pet name. I feel my cheeks warming up a little, and I’m certain it’s not because of the lass’s hands.

I place my own gloved hands over her small ones, “Thank you, love. Thank you for listenin’ and for not strikin’ me down. This story is so hard to relive, but I know that it’s an important mistake to share, especially with the youth of the Order. It’s a shame that the Assassins never told you what really happened in Lisbon and in Port-au-Prince.”

She smiles, “Of course I will listen to you. Listening to all sides of the story is better than only listening to one. I learned that from you. Also, the Assassins actually didn’t tell the recruits anything about Lisbon or the other Precursor sites. They claimed that the earthquake was a natural event.”

I scoff, “‘Course they did. Connivin’ bastards, the lot of them.”

She nods in agreement, “Let’s go to sleep. It’s quite late.”

“Where is your boss?”

“I’ll never tell! She’ll kill me!”

The lass and I both walk up to the Grandmaster’s impromptu interrogation of one of the Assassin gang members. Haytham seems to have a knack for these types of “sessions,” given his intimidating demeanor.

“If you don’t tell, he’ll kill you,” I say with a smirk. The lass chuckles at the comment.

After extracting the information from the footsoldier, the Grandmaster slits his throat… with a Hidden Blade? The lass seems to think the same thing as she glances at me perplexed. The three of us begin our journey to Hope’s mansion.

“Sir, you didn’t mention that you had a Hidden Blade,” the girl calls out.

Haytham claims, “You two thought that you were the only ones?”

“Well, yes, I suppose… where did you get it, sir?”

“It was… donated by the Brotherhood, miss.”

Again, we exchange peculiar looks. We are both wondering the same thing. What does he mean by “donated?”

In front of the lavish abode, a skirmish unfolds between Hope’s Assassins and New York’s redcoat authorities. Master Kenway, the lass, and I assist the King’s men in subduing most of the gang forces.

“Our mission was a success. The army should make its move any time now,” I tell him.

Haytham agrees, “Good. We lack the resources in New York to handle these criminals ourselves. With a little luck, we might be rid of them once and for all.

I couldn’t help myself, “I make my own luck.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Grandmaster and the lass both roll their eyes in unison. No matter who much it irritates them, I’ll never drop it.

“Now, let us cut off the snake’s head…” Haytham says, his focus honing back to Hope.

As more British troops head into the area, I conjure a plan of attack for the girl and me.

“I’ll go in and get Hope myself,” I turn to the lass, “and she’ll follow in behind me.”

“Very well,” Master Kenway says.

The lass and I stay low to avoid the rain of bullets from the gang and the soldiers. We are making our way through Hope’s garden while I explain to her my strategy, “Hope specializes in dangerous chemicals and gases that are known to incapacitate even the strongest of men. I need you to keep your distance between me while I deal with her. If anything happens, love, I want you to forget about me and use your skills to track her down and eliminate her.”

“What do you mean by ‘if anything happens?’” she inquires.

“I mean that if I become incapacitated, leave me behind to finish the mission,” I say firmly.

I know that the lass feels uncomfortable by this statement, but she will listen. It is for the greater good. We both know that Hope is dangerous to not only the Templars, but the city’s populace as well. It is difficult for me to admit this, though I must convince myself that what we are doing is right. Even though it involves killing one of my closest friends…

I dread this day. The day that I would have to kill Hope Jensen. The woman that used to be my anchor, that used to be the one I dreamed of to keep me afloat. The one that when even she was swayed by the Mentor, I thought that there is no hope left for humanity, no rationale, no reason.

But, I look to my side and see a familiar face. One that has been with me for the past two years. One that is my current lifeline. I really do care for the lass. Always and forever. Now, in the present, she will help me with one of the hardest missions of my lifetime. She’ll soften the blow.

“Okay,” she responds to me quietly, her voice wavering.

We stop under an overpass in the garden. I gently cup the lass’s face, “I’ll be alright, love. Quit your worryin’. I want you to stay at least several meters out of my sight so that the chemicals won’t affect you. After all, I can't risk losin’ my greatest soldier.”

She blushes at the compliment before sprinting to her position. I take a deep breath, and head into the snake’s den.

“You never do give up, do you, Shay?”

I hear her taunting voice ringing in my ears. The poison is coursing through my veins. It hurts so damn much. I don’t know what hurts more: the venom in my body or the fact that I have to kill someone who at one point in my life I considered more than a friend. Must. Keep Moving.

“No matter… the poison will kill you.”

Remember what I said, lass. Finish the job for me. Whatever the costs.

The streets of New York are just as crowded as I remember. Swarms of civilians are running to the sides of the road as I continue my hot pursuit on Hope. She weaves through the people, pushing unsuspected bystanders out of the way. Because of the poison, I could not afford to climb any structures: I had to chase her by foot.

Our chase continues down a dark alley, away from the populace. Suddenly, a figure drops on top of her. I know who you are. The figure slashes into Hope with her Hidden Blade. Hope manages to push the person off of her. The two fall down, only meters away from each other. The mystery person’s hood falls down to reveal a familiar, pretty face.

Hope snarls, “So you’re working for them now? Being their little lapdog?”

The lass doesn’t say a word. Rather, she reaches into Hope’s pockets and takes out the antidote. She throws the little vial of elixir at me before backing up and leaving me room to interrogate her.

After drinking the antidote, I walk up to Hope, “Not for us. With us.”

“I should have known…” Hope coughs, “you’re late, again, Shay.”

I kneel down to her level with a pained expression on my face, “Hope, I didn’t want to do this.”

“I trained you to do this,” Hope looks at the lass, as if she’s directly speaking to her instead of me, “I expected nothing less.”

I have to get answers. I ask her, “Then why-”

“To give Liam time to leave. Soon, Chevalier will be on his way to the Precursor site.”

“I will stop him.”

“He will see you coming. Pity… you had so much potential.”

She fades away right there, in front of my very eyes. Potential. A word that has so much to offer, yet so little to show. I feel a hand caressing my back. I turn around to face the girl. Her eyes are cast down, as if she is trying to avoid my gaze.

“She seemed very close to you,” the lass says.

I nod gravely, “Aye. Hope believed in me for a while,” I take her hand, “it’s in the past, now. We have what we need. Let us report back to the Grandmaster.”

She seems unconvinced. She wants to know more.

“Hope used to be one of the few people that I confined with during my time serving the Brotherhood. We had a close bond. It pains me to see her go like this, to see her go down thinkin’ that she is right,” I squeeze the lass’s hand, “but, overtime, my feelings have changed. Don’t get me wrong, I still saw her as a mentor. It’s just… that initial spark isn’t there anymore. I feel that for someone else, now.”

The lass gives me a pained smile. Now she understands. She nods to me before saying, “Come, Shay. Let’s go meet with Haytham.”

I raise an eyebrow. That is the first time I’ve heard the lass refer to the Grandmaster by his given name. I think that she is beginning to feel at home, once again.

The air is still...

“Hope was right… I do make a good distraction.”

In a fit of rage, I throw the sorry French bastard’s body off of the side of the ship. How could I have been so stupid? A fucking distraction? The Assassins are more clever than I thought, sending the Templars on a wild goose hunt across the entire globe. It only shows how desperate they are, now that half of their pathetic Brotherhood is dead.

Once I am at the helm of the Morrigan, I thank Captain Cook for his assistance. After our pleasantries, the man boards his ship, leaving Master Kenway, Gist, the lass and I to discuss our next course of action.

I tell the Grandmaster, “De la Vérendrye’s dead. I have the coordinates. I know where the Assassins are goin’.”

Haytham says, “Then, let us make haste.”

I believe that the Grandmaster made the correct choice. While he and I are to go after Achilles and Liam into the Precursor Temple, the lass and Gist are to remain aboard the Morrigan for behind-the-lines assistance. While Haytham was giving instructions, the lass was visibly upset. I was, as well. Though, we both know that it is for the best, in order to limit distractions and to end the Assassins as quickly as possible.

The freezing Arctic air pierces through my uniform. The scenery, though, contrasts the violence of the weather. The Arctic is a sight to behold: a different land, covered in white, just like New York, Boston, and the frontier during the winter. There is not a speck of color out of place. The inlet is littered with floating ice plates, allowing us to cross. I breathe and see my breath escape as a puff of white air; turning to the Grandmaster I say, “This would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned cold.”

All of a sudden, one of the ice floes crumbles as Haytham places his foot onto it. He pulls back just in time before warning me, “Tread carefully… some of this ice is rather thin.”

“Is this the Apple?”

“No! Don’t touch anything. Shay was right.”

“What would he know?”

“More than me, apparently…”

I can hear them conversing. Fucking finally. Finally they understand how dangerous these Precursor sites are. It only took them years of pointless chasing to realize the danger of the natural world. Haytham and I reach Liam and Achilles.

Years. Years wasted for one simple realization. I cannot bear to listen to these fools anymore. I yell, “Finally you understand, Achilles. This is a structure to hold the world together, not a weapon to control it. This whole calamity could have been avoided if you’d only listened to me!”

The Mentor jumps as he hears my voice. Master Kenway and I are unexpected visitors, I presume. He quickly regains his composure and scoffs, “Disrespectful to the end.”

“Yes, we’ve been working on that,” Haytham chides, causing me to roll my eyes.

Liam steps into the conversation, a look of disappointment on his face, “Right or wrong, Shay, you betrayed the Brotherhood, Achilles, and me.”

“Says the man, the friend, who shot me in the back,” I snarl.

“At the Homestead?” Liam laughs, “That was Chevaliar. I don’t miss.”

What in God’s name are you doing, Liam?! Liam pulls out a flintlock and aims directly at me. He is a fool to think that that is a wise thing to do in a place like this.

Achilles lunges at him, screaming, “Liam! Don’t!”

It is too late. Liam falls onto the artifact, knocking it off its pedestal. The little spiked orb disintegrates into black dust. Well, we’re fucked. The temple begins quaking, slowly yet surely. Large icicles fall into the abyss and pierce the snow-covered grounds. The glowing First Civilization structures are falling, separating me, Achilles, and the Grandmaster. In the chaos, I spot Liam gaining a head start and running past me to the end of the temple. I guess it’s just you and me, old friend.

I give chase. Using one of the temple’s structures as cover, I dodge Liam’s stray bullets. As I am avoiding the crumbling foundation and ice shards, my mind goes back to the lass. Please… I pray that the earthquake has not reached the outside of the site yet; I pray that she is not hurt. If anything happens to her, I cannot live with myself carrying that blame.

“How could you do this to us? How could you kill Hope?!” Liam bellows in fury. I can hear the pain in his voice. I do not have an answer for him. Instead, I use this emotional moment to attack him. Our skirmish causes the platform to break. My heart jumps as we begin falling down the frozen waterfall.

I feel light as I, luckily, land into a pile of snow. Liam, however, isn’t as fortunate. I hear a loud crack as his body hits the cold, hard ground. Blood begins flowing from his head, seeping through his hood. The man can barely move his body. Yet, he makes out some words; Liam struggles, “That… was lucky.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Liam? I make my own luck.”

Liam frowns, “And how’d you do that, you bastard? You broke the Assassins. Betrayed… everyone you knew… you sided with our worst enemies; you soiled our legacy; you molded our youth into blinded sheep, and for what?!”

Wait… ‘blinded sheep?’

“What are you talkin’ about, Liam? Who are you talkin’ about?” I ask, heat rising through my body.

He coughs, a cough laced with venom, “You know who I’m talking about. Damned fool. I hope whatever world you are oh-so valiantly trying to save… is a good one.”

No. A loud sound pierces through the freezing Arctic air. It is the sound of a flintlock. I bolt in the direction of the noise toward the shoreline in search of Master Kenway and Achilles. Instead, I see three people: Haytham, Achilles, and... no. It can’t be.

“No! What is going on here?!” I scream, breathing in exhaustion. My chest feels heavy. Constricted. Why did this have to happen? Why have my actions, once again, caused death?

Haytham sighs in frustration, “Shay, I am sorry to say this, but… she is no longer with us. You can thank your friend Liam for that.”

I can’t even look at her. Her bloodied, lifeless body lays beside the Grandmaster. There is a large tear on her torso where the blood seeps from. Her garments are stained in red. Red. Red just like how I first met her. Her eyes are closed and her arms are folded over her chest with her hands placed upon one another: a position of respect. My friend, gone. My protégé, gone. My lifeline, gone. How does a man feel in this position? What do I have left to live for?

In front of the Grandmaster lies a screaming Achilles with a bleeding leg. A man who I used to respect. Who I used to call my Mentor. A man who I cannot bear to see alive one more second.

“Allow, me, Master Kenway,” I growl, holding my hand out. Haytham hands me the gun.

“No! Shay! Don’t do this! You monster!”

Click. One shot and the monster goes down. 

… and I am a hunter.

[thegreatlibraryfangirl]

if the great library characters became animals, what would they be and why??

(I have seen your previous ask, it's epic, but my brain is currently refusing to answer it, apologies)

ok so, easiest first:

Wolfe

Crow.

Why? Because of 'Stormcrow', of course. Also:

They are fairly solitary, usually found alone or in pairs, although they may form occasional flocks.

Source RPSB website

Fun fact btw, Gandalf is referred to as Stormcrow, and this article has a lot of stuff about Gandalf being seen as a harbinger of chaos and destruction that works very well both for Wolfe's personal circumstances and his job confiscating originals.

Rather than wolf as an alternative, I could see Wolfe as a black panther (melanistic leopard).

Again, a loner animal, but this is more playing off Jess' obsession with pointing out that Wolfe is lean and athletic in physique (S&P has it like 3 times, other people say various things about Wolfe's size throughout the series).

Santi

Dog. Of some huge, imposing and loyal type. Suggest breeds for me in reblogs or something. Google informs me there is an Italian livestock guardian dog breed called Maremmano, so that'll do for now. Or a mastiff, maybe.

Jess

Ok so before I even think of anything at all - Thomas canonically compares Jess to an otter, in Sword and Pen. How very heterosexual of you, Thomas. So we have to consider this!

Other than that, thank you Thomas, I think Jess is a dog too, for how much he enjoys affection and the exercise of the High Garda Specifically a Jack Russell terrier (small, fearless, English in origin, incredibly persistent).

Jess himself might identify as a rat, as a fuck-you to both Dario and his father. The brown rat, which is actually apparently nicknamed "street rat" according to Wikipedia.

Note, the Wikipedia article on black rat gave me: "The black rat also has a scraggly coat of black fur, and is slightly smaller than the brown rat." paging @wheel-of-whimsy can you headcanon the Brightwell twins as these two rat types??

Khalila

I should really have put her first tbh, as the most solid one of all; I headcanon her as the blackfooted cat. It's one of the tiniest wildcat species, and it is known for being particularly fierce when it defends itself. Tiny predator Khalila. I will say no more.

Dario

Reluctantly, I'm actually going to call Dario a lion. Like, a lion who's bad at fighting. Royal associations obviously, needs a group around him to survive. Except he'd be bad at being the head of a pride for aforementioned fighting reason. Dario as Scar, is what I'm saying here. That or he's just a standard pampered housecat. Take your pick. (Note, the domestic cat is actually much more social than people think!)

Maybe he's a wasp. Stabby stabby, underappreciated lol.

Glain

Glain is a difficult one. Argh. Suggestions welcome. Soldier ant??? That seems unfair. Ink and Bone Glain is a bit of a honey badger tbh, but idk about later. Is she a lioness, actually?? Quite possibly. Part of a family team, killing machine.

Thomas

Thomas' two main traits are Big and Genius. (Yes I know there's obviously more to him than that but we're simplifying). Therefore he's an elephant.

Morgan

I know I always say this every time a personality/categorisation thing comes up, but god damn it Morgan is hard to do. Her entire arc imo, start to finish, is based around not wanting to be enslaved, ended up enslaved anyway, and then being a martyr. What does she enjoy doing? We don't know. What are her skills, hobbies, characteristics other than 'gets Jess' dick hard'?? Smoke and Iron and to a degree Sword and Pen does give us more insight into her, but only based around "How do I get out of this?"

OK, so creative, intelligent, ridiculously determined. Also magic powers. Idk. Grey parrot.

[newstfionline]

Wednesday, October 28, 2020

Pair of studies confirm there is water on the moon (Washington Post) There is water on the moon’s surface, and ice may be widespread in its many shadows, according to a pair of studies published Monday in the journal Nature Astronomy. The research confirms long-standing theories about the existence of lunar water that could someday enable astronauts to live there for extended periods. One scientific team found the telltale sign of water molecules, perhaps bound up in glass, in a sunlit region. Another group estimated the widespread prevalence of tiny shadowed pockmarks on the lunar landscape, possible shelter for water ice over an area of 15,000 square miles. Moon water has been eyed as a potential resource by NASA, which created a program named Artemis in 2019 to send American astronauts back to the moon this decade. Launching water to space costs thousands of dollars per gallon.

Colleges Slash Budgets in the Pandemic, With ‘Nothing Off-Limits’ (NYT) Ohio Wesleyan University is eliminating 18 majors. The University of Florida’s trustees this month took the first steps toward letting the school furlough faculty. The University of California, Berkeley, has paused admissions to its Ph.D. programs in anthropology, sociology and art history. As it resurges across the country, the coronavirus is forcing universities large and small to make deep and possibly lasting cuts to close widening budget shortfalls. By one estimate, the pandemic has cost colleges at least $120 billion, with even Harvard University, despite its $41.9 billion endowment, reporting a $10 million deficit that has prompted belt tightening. Though many colleges imposed stopgap measures such as hiring freezes and early retirements to save money in the spring, the persistence of the economic downturn is taking a devastating financial toll, pushing many to lay off or furlough employees, delay graduate admissions and even cut or consolidate core programs like liberal arts departments. “We haven’t seen a budget crisis like this in a generation,” said Robert Kelchen, a Seton Hall University associate professor of higher education who has been tracking the administrative response to the pandemic. “There’s nothing off-limits at this point.”

Thousands Forced to Evacuate From California Fires (NYT) Two firefighters were gravely injured and tens of thousands of Californians were forced to flee their homes on Monday as two new fires ripped through Orange County. About 90,800 residents in Irvine were put under mandatory evacuation orders because of the Silverado Fire and the smaller Blue Ridge Fire, said Shane Sherwood, a division chief for the Orange County Fire Authority. High winds and low humidity fueled the fires’ rapid growth. About 4,000 firefighters were fighting 22 wildfires across the state on Monday, according to Cal Fire, the state’s fire agency. As evening approached, the Silverado Fire had burned about 7,200 acres and the Blue Ridge Fire 3,000 acres. Later Monday night, the Orange County Fire Authority said that the Blue Ridge Fire had grown to 6,600 acres

Why N.Y.C.’s Economic Recovery May Lag the Rest of the Country’s (NYT) New York, whose diversified economy had fueled unparalleled job growth in recent years, is now facing a bigger challenge in recovering from the pandemic than almost any other major city in the country. More than one million residents are out of work, and the unemployment rate is nearly double the national average. The city had tried to insulate itself from major downturns by shifting from tying its fortunes to the rise and fall of Wall Street. A thriving tech sector, a booming real estate industry and waves of international tourists had helped Broadway, hotels and restaurants prosper. But now, as the virus surges again in the region, tourists are still staying away and any hope that workers would refill the city’s office towers and support its businesses before the end of the year is fading. As a result, New York’s recovery is very likely to be slow and protracted, economists said. “This is an event that struck right at the heart of New York’s comparative advantages,” said Mark Zandi, chief economist for Moody’s Analytics, a Wall Street research firm. “Being globally oriented, being stacked up in skyscrapers and packed together in stadiums: The very thing that made New York New York was undermined by the pandemic, was upended by it.”

Asylum-Seekers Face Violent ICE Coercion (Foreign Policy) U.S. immigration officers have threatened, pepper-sprayed, beaten, and choked asylum-seekers from Cameroon to coerce them to sign their own deportation orders, the Guardian reports. A coalition of advocacy groups, including the Southern Poverty Law Center, filed a complaint earlier this month describing a “pattern of coercion” by ICE agents at a Mississippi detention center that it called “tantamount to torture.” According to multiple accounts in the complaint, immigration officials used the coercive tactics to compel detainees to sign documents that would waive their rights to further immigration hearings. At least one individual was hospitalized as a result. One man, identified by the initials C.A., described how officers broke his fingers as they sought to force his fingerprint onto a document. “Officers grabbed me, forced me on the ground, and pepper-sprayed my eyes. … I was crying, ‘I can’t breathe,’ because they were forcefully on top of me pressing their body weight on top of me. My eyes were so hot. They dragged me outside by both hands,” said the individual, who was prevented from speaking to his lawyer before signing the document. C.A. was placed on a deportation flight on Oct. 13 but was one of two Cameroonians pulled off the plane moments before takeoff, as an investigation had begun into the allegations of abuse. At least 100 asylum-seekers, including many from Cameroon and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, were deported on the same flight. For two consecutive years, the Norwegian Refugee Council has deemed Cameroon the world’s most neglected displacement crisis due to an insurgency in the north and a brutal government crackdown on two English-speaking separatist regions. Since 2016, the two conflicts have killed over 3,000 people and displaced more than 700,000.

Belgium’s former King meets estranged daughter for first time (Reuters) Belgium’s former King Albert has met his daughter Delphine for the first time, after she won a seven-year legal battle to prove that he is her father, earning recognition as a princess. The two met Albert’s wife, Queen Paola, last Sunday at their royal residence, the Belvedere castle, in the Brussels suburb of Laeken, the royal household said on Tuesday. “This Sunday October 25, a new chapter has opened, filled with emotions, calm, understanding and also hope,” the king, the queen and Delphine said in a statement. “Our meeting took place at the Belvedere Castle, a meeting during which each of us was able to express, calmly and with empathy, our feelings and our experiences.” “After the turmoil, the wounds and the suffering, comes the time for forgiveness, healing and reconciliation. This is the path, patient and at times difficult, that we have decided to take resolutely together.” Delphine Boel, 52, a Belgian artist, fought a seven-year legal battle to prove that the former king is her father. After a DNA test confirmed that, a court granted her the title of princess earlier this month. Albert, 86, who abdicated six years ago in favour of his son Philippe, had long contested Boel’s claim.

Germany cautions Thai king (Foreign Policy) Pro-democracy protesters in Thailand marched on the German Embassy in Bangkok to deliver a letter asking German authorities to investigate whether King Maha Vajiralongkorn “has conducted Thai politics using his royal prerogative from German soil or not.” German Foreign Minister Heiko Maas, speaking from Berlin, said the German government was “examining” the issue “and if there are things we feel to be unlawful, then that will have immediate consequences.”

Belarus Opposition Calls General Strike, as Protesters Gird for Long Fight (NYT) When Belarusians took to the streets in the hundreds of thousands in August, after Mr. Lukashenko claimed a re-election victory that was widely seen as fraudulent, many predicted that it was only a matter of days or weeks until the longtime authoritarian leader stepped down. Instead, Mr. Lukashenko and the large swath of the public that is arrayed against him have settled into a drawn-out test of wills, with their country’s future on the line. Protesters continue to turn out in the tens of thousands every Sunday, chanting “Go away!” and waving the white-red-white flag of the opposition. Mr. Lukashenko responds with waves of crackdowns by the police and, backed by Russia, appears determined to wait the protests out. “In such a tense situation, absolutely anything could turn out to be the trigger that topples the system,” said Artyom Shraibman, a Minsk-based nonresident scholar at the Carnegie Moscow Center. “It could end in the course of a week, or it might not die for a year. No revolution has ever gone according to plan.” The authorities’ use of violence to try to put down the protests appears to be escalating, further feeding the anger in Belarusian society. It was a bout of severe police violence early in the uprising that supercharged the protests.

World’s largest IPO shows power of mobile payments in China (Washington Post) Go to a store, hop in a taxi, or even stop by a street peddler’s cart in China, and you will see QR codes strung up on colorful laminated squares. These mobile payment codes are the default way money changes hands in China these days, and the reason Ant Group’s initial public offering is set to be the world’s largest. China’s Ant Group—the Alibaba spinoff behind the ubiquitous blue QR payment codes across the world’s second-largest economy—announced plans on Monday to raise more than $34 billion in a joint listing across Shanghai and Hong Kong. This would trounce last year’s listing of oil titan Saudi Aramco, the reigning IPO champion. Mobile payments have replaced cash and credit cards in China as the preferred payment method, thanks to easy-to-use apps made by Ant Group and its closest rival Tencent. Ant Group’s Alipay and Tencent’s WeChat Pay are similar in spirit to wildly popular U.S. stock trading app Robinhood, in that they are user-friendly enough that anyone with a smartphone and bank account can make complicated financial transactions with a click or swipe.

China sanctions U.S. weapons manufacturers (Foreign Policy) China will impose sanctions on three U.S.-based weapons manufacturers after the U.S. State Department approved the sale of $1.8 billion worth of weapons and equipment to Taiwan last Wednesday. Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesman Zhao Lijian said the sanctions were necessary “in order to uphold national interests.” It’s not yet clear what form the sanctions will take. More sanctions could soon be on the way, as the State Department approved a further $2.37 billion in weapons sales to Taiwan on Monday.

Vietnam evacuating low-lying areas as strong typhoon nears (AP) Vietnam scrambled Tuesday to evacuate more than a million people in its central lowlands as a strong typhoon approached while some regions are still dealing with the aftermath of recent killer floods, state media said. Typhoon Molave is forecast to slam into Vietnam’s south central coast with sustained winds of up to 135 kilometers (84 miles) per hour on Wednesday morning, according to the official Vietnam News Agency. The typhoon left at least 3 people dead and 13 missing and displaced more than 120,000 villagers in the Philippines before blowing toward Vietnam. Prime Minister Nguyen Xuan Phuc ordered provincial authorities late Monday to prepare to evacuate about 1.3 million people in regions lying on the typhoon’s path. Phuc expressed fears that Molave, the latest disturbance to threaten Vietnam this month, could be as deadly as Typhoon Damrey, which battered the country’s central region in 2017 and left more than a hundred people dead.

Vaccines, not spy planes: U.S. misfires in Southeast Asia For months, by Zoom calls and then by jet, Indonesian ministers and officials scoured the world for access to a vaccine for the coronavirus that Southeast Asia’s biggest country is struggling to control. This month, their campaign paid off. Three Chinese companies committed 250 million doses of vaccines to the archipelago of 270 million people. A letter of intent was signed with a UK-based company for another 100 million. Absent from these pledges: the United States. Not only was it not promising any vaccine, but months earlier the United States shocked Indonesian officials by asking to land and refuel its spy planes in the territory, four senior Indonesian officials told Reuters. This would reverse a decades-long policy of strategic neutrality in the country. Washington’s campaign to buttress its influence in the region—part of its escalating global rivalry with China—has been misfiring, say government officials and analysts.

Bomb at seminary in Pakistan kills 8 students, wounds 136 (AP) A powerful bomb blast ripped through an Islamic seminary on the outskirts of the northwest Pakistani city of Peshawar on Tuesday morning, killing at least eight students and wounding 136 others, police and a hospital spokesman said. The bombing happened as a prominent religious scholar during a special class was delivering a lecture about the teachings of Islam at the main hall of the Jamia Zubairia madrassa, said police officer Waqar Azim. The attack comes days after Pakistani intelligence alerted that militants could target public places and important buildings, including seminaries and mosques across Pakistan, including Peshawar.

Hopes for peace in Libya (Foreign Policy) The two main factions in Libya’s civil war agreed to a nationwide cease-fire at U.N.-backed talks in Geneva on Friday. Previous attempts to broker an end to the yearslong conflict have failed, but the new agreement has cautiously raised hopes that it will lay the groundwork for a peace deal. The cease-fire, signed by the Tripoli-based Government of National Accord and Gen. Khalifa Haftar’s Libyan National Army, calls for all front-line forces to return to their bases and all mercenaries and foreign troops to withdraw within three months. The Libyan conflict has drawn in a multitude of international players, including Russia, Turkey, Egypt, and the United Arab Emirates. Their actions in the coming months could make or break the cease-fire.