Mail Time
“Oh, Legend!” Sky waves the vet down as he comes down the stairs of the inn. “I’ve got the mail! Want to help me sort it out?”
“The mailman again? How does he end up here?” Legend pulls some of the stack from Sky’s arms and frowns at the different scripts. “Hey, are any of these important?”
“Why would I know?”
“Great, let me take these off your hands!” Legend makes a grab for the stack, which Sky yanks away.
“These aren’t yours!”
There’s a glint in the vet’s eyes that promises trouble. “Did you know you can steam open envelope seals? Sure would be a shame if the contents got mixed up…right?”
Well…that’s a pretty harmless prank, actually. Not everyone could read each other's language so there was little chance of sharing information. Sky’s grin is slow, but there. “Want to show me?”
“Mail time!” Sky hands out envelopes based on the names. Legend follows Sky into the room with the other heroes. He and the vet split the stack to mix up. Actually…
“One for you, Legend!”
The vet startles at being handed an envelope, then blanches when he looks at the handwriting. Ah, so he doesn’t want that mixed up in someone else’s? Well, he should have thought of that before pranking the Chain.
For a moment there’s just the quiet rip of seals and shuffle of paper.
“Huh.” Four frowns at the letter he’s holding. “I’ve never heard my Zelda use so many…compliments before.”
Hyrule squints at his paper. “Did I get a bill? Something about rental fees?”
“Well, mine’s from Tetra!” Wind says, which only adds to the confusion.
Warriors makes a choking sound and his face goes bright red.
Legend pounces. “What’s wrong, captain? Why not read your letter aloud?”
“N-no,” comes the strangled reply. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea. I think the mail has been mixed up.”
“Come on, share with us!”
The captain makes a wheezing sound and turns, impossibly, redder. “You asked for it. Uh, someone cover Wind’s ears.”
“Hey!” Wind is ignored as Twilight claps his hands over the sailor’s ears. Time frowns, but doesn’t interfere.
Clearing his throat, Warriors starts reading. “My love, how I long for the carnal delight of your body. I’m so empty without your…sword to spear me.”
Twilight clutches Wind closer, mouth hanging open. Most of the rest of the Chain stare as well. Legend is positively bug-eyed.
“I miss running my hands across your firm buttocks, dipping to that most secret place—”
“Okay!” Time interrupts. “I think that’s enough.”
Warriors waves the paper. “No, no, let me keep reading! Let’s see, ‘My sweet, my Fairy Boy, my Link…”
Dead silence.
As one, everyone’s heads swivel to stare at Time. Sky’s never seen Time turn that shade of red before.
“I think,” he whispers, “that letter is for me.”
“It was Sky’s idea to mix up the mail,” Legend yells, and bolts.
If Sky’s going down, Legend is too. “Get back here you turncoat! Traitor! Villain!” He thuds into the hall wall as he sprints after the vet.
“Sky! Legend!” Time roars.
“Run faster!”
@uniquevoidflowers Thanks for the prompt!
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lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)
if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.
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no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.
I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.
I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.
If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.
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Sometimes you just have one of those moments where the progress we've made as a culture get thrown into stark relief. You look at something and go "Holy shit, that would never have happened when I was a kid."
Today, I had one of those moments when I realized that the teenage boys I'm working with are just. genuinely, openly enthusiastic about going to Build-a-Bear for their outing.
These are sixteen and seventeen year old boys! They just had a whole conversation about what to name their "cute", mostly new squishmallows! They're genuinely excited that they're going to Build-a-Bear this weekend and asking other kids to pick up specific accessories for them!!
Holy shit, that never would've happened when I was 16. None of the boys would have dared to be visibly interested - and neither would most of the girls! There would have been a million gay jokes and "Haha, you're a girl" jokes and "What are you, a baby?" jokes. Teenagers weren't even supposed to care about anything back then!
Less than 15 years later, and I'm watching three 17 year old boys treat all that as not even worthy of comment.
So let's call that a reason for hope. Even when the kids aren't alright, in some ways apparently they are alright. Go Gen Z, honestly. It's so lovely to watch you guys just openly doing and saying stuff that, when I was a teen, would've been a social death sentence.
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The Bronx Zoo has just released Flaco's necropsy results.
He was not thriving, as the people championing the ideal of "freedom" claimed.
He was poisoned.
He was sick.
He was suffering.
"Freedom" would have eventually killed him. A building just happened to do it first.
"Postmortem testing has been completed for Flaco, the Eurasian eagle owl that was found down in the courtyard of a Manhattan building a little over a year after his enclosure at the Central Park Zoo was vandalized on February 2, 2023. Onlookers reported that Flaco had flown into a building on the Upper West Side of Manhattan on February 23, 2024, and acute trauma was found at necropsy.
Bronx Zoo veterinary pathologists determined that in addition to the traumatic injuries, Flaco had two significant underlying conditions. He had a severe pigeon herpesvirus from eating feral pigeons that had become part of his diet, and exposure to four different anticoagulant rodenticides that are commonly used for rat control in New York City. These factors would have been debilitating and ultimately fatal, even without a traumatic injury, and may have predisposed him to flying into or falling from the building.
The identified herpesvirus can be carried by healthy pigeons but may cause fatal disease in birds of prey including owls infected by eating pigeons. This virus has been previously found in New York City pigeons and owls. In Flaco’s case, the viral infection caused severe tissue damage and inflammation in many organs, including the spleen, liver, gastrointestinal tract, bone marrow, and brain.
No other contributing factors were identified through the extensive testing that was performed.
Flaco’s severe illness and death are ultimately attributed to a combination of factors—infectious disease, toxin exposures, and traumatic injuries—that underscore the hazards faced by wild birds, especially in an urban setting."
The naturalistic fallacy kills animals in horrible ways. The romanticism of what humans want to think of as a "free, wild, pure life" cannot be allowed supplant the reality of injury, sickness, and death. Releasing captive animals (or keeping them from being recaptured) because it's "better" for them to suffer untethered than live a healthy, safe, captive life is inhumane and horrific.
Flaco's life didn't have to end in pain, sickness, and suffering.
Flaco's death didn't have to be tragic.
But once the idea of "freedom" entered the chat, Flaco's fate was unavoidable.
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