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The sinister sniler plotting something devious as usual

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Aww I found the plush here OMG 😭😭😭

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Caught mid preen!

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Pigeon 1590

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Straw-coloured Fruit bat, via

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Pigeon 1592

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Natural One

@flashfictionfridayofficial

“I am not Captain Hannukah!” Salim says, knocking back the rest of the tea like he wishes it were something stronger. “Captain Hannukah is a fictional character from a children’s edutainment program and I disavow him.”

“Disavowing him is probably what let them make the show in the first place,” I tell him, sipping my own tea placidly. I’ve actually been waiting for him to go on this rant since we met. It seemed like something he had ready to whip out at a moment’s notice, but he’s only made oblique references to it so far.

“Don’t you think I know that?” He slumps down, tucking his head into his arms. A little dramatically if you ask me, but it’s his life. “I should’ve said it was me. Of course, if I said that, I’d never hear the end of it. They’d probably make me change my whole look.”

I pat his arm comfortingly. Now’s not the time to judge his look, especially if I want the whole story, although the Captain Hannukah thing would not be a good replacement. Still. I do wonder if his gimmick is what makes people not take him as seriously as they should. “There, there. You don’t have to change your look.”

“I mean, what was I supposed to do, let the convenience store get robbed while I went all the way back to get my costume?” Salim looks at me pleadingly and it’s all I can do not to laugh. Which he’s probably used to. This sounds like a conversation I’m barely needed here for. “All the times I was picture perfect, and that’s the one time they put me on camera? I swear. You go to one ugly sweater party and that’s the only footage they ever want to show.”

I blink at that. “Wait, the sweater was intentionally ugly?” I’ve seen the original footage before, but it’s grainy enough it could go either way. Outside the security tapes, it’s all that cartoon, and they always seem to make the sweater nice. I’d kind of assumed he was dressing up a little at the time, even if it was for an office party or something.

“Hell yes! And I had to search forever for it, too – do you know how hard it is to make a llama look bad enough to not be cute anymore? But now the damn thing haunts me.” Salim sets his chin morosely on the sugar dish, twirling the spoon in his fingers. “They’re trying to gaslight me into thinking the sweater was nice all along. They claim my bubbe knitted it.”

“In all fairness, they claim Captain Hannukah’s bubbe knitted it,” I tell him, which is slightly less sympathetic than I was aiming for. You’d think this would be easier for me. It’s not like I don’t have any problems with the character, but, like. His face.

“But why would he operate all year round?” Salim snaps, throwing up his arms, spilling sugar cubes all across the table. “He’d be a seasonal hero like all the other ones. Man, if they’d claimed I was a seasonal variant I wouldn’t even be that mad. I mean. I would be. But I might’ve let them make the show anyway. Why does he even have to be Hannukah themed?”

“Well, you were using a dreidel,” I remind him, just to watch him turn red. I almost expect to hear him whistle like the kettle, but I guess he’s not that worked up yet. Probably I can still tease him enough to do it, if I try.

“I was in the middle of buying one,” Salim says, staring at me all wounded and betrayed, and then picking up one of the few sugar cubes left in the bowl to crunch on it lugubriously. “I wasn’t going to leave it all up to a coin toss. And I don’t know what kind of person you think I am, but I don’t usually carry a full array of dice in my pocket.”

“I think you’re the kind of person who made a character sheet for your hero persona before you even started training for it.” I slurp from my cup pointedly, just to punctuate the sentiment, but he shrugs, accepting the criticism. If it is criticism. At least he commits. “In all honesty, I’m surprised you didn’t have dice.”

“I have a lot of them in my costume, when I have it. I was taking the night off,” and he waves his hand vaguely in a way that, after a minute, I realize is Salim gesturing to all the places he hides dice when he’s dressed up. “There was a lot of drinking at that party, you know. I don’t know about you, but I’m not the kind of person who can safely use my powers if I’m drunk. Fifteen minutes later I would’ve left it to someone else.”

“How drunk are you getting in fifteen minutes?” I ask, and then kick myself for derailing the story, because I’ve always wondered the actual details of it, and now we’re going to be debating kegstands or something instead. Looks like I rolled a one.

“Okay, I wasn’t actually drunk as soon as I got there,” Salim says, throwing one of the downed sugar cubes at me. I dodge. “You know what I mean. Things come out all wonky if I’m impaired, and I don’t want to unleash the horrors on an unsuspecting populace.”

“Yeah, no, I know,” I agree, refilling his cup for him again as he sloshes more of it onto the table in agitation. I should probably get napkins. “When I’m drunk, I’m just telepathic enough to think I’m losing my mind. It makes me conjure weapons a little more dangerous than I usually intend, and I’ve only got access to the one other world.” “I really don’t think they’re from other worlds,” Salim says, spinning his spoon around his teacup. I don’t even know if he actually put any sugar in yet. “I think it’s more like. There’s so many things that could happen on any given day that someone else could’ve been there instead of me. And I can do what they would have. Doesn’t explain all the magic, though, unless you buy into Secret Warlock Theory.”

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Stop

and look at these Goddamn Geese

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Tiny Pipistrelle, photographed by Jakob Fahr, (source)

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Albino CAPY!!!

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aw hell yeah

goth manta goth manta goth manta goth manta goth manta

Link.

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