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severnlight · 3 years

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Make way for Pirate Queen Amidala!

(a story snippet is below the cut 😁)

Commodore Skywalker, the youngest person in his Majesty’s Grand Navy to ever achieve the rank, woke up in a cell. His shoulder was throbbing, and his soul appeared to be trying to leave his body by virtue of a skull-drilling headache. He groaned, and risked opening his eyes.

He found himself lying on a dingy scattering of straw — frequently used and ancient, by the smell of it. Cautious light filtered through the clouds of dust from above and bounced off the single item in the cell — a bucket that perhaps once had been green.

His stomach picked up the motions of a sailing ship just as his nose zoomed in on the salt spray over the other, less savory aromas. The wake was splashing on the hull just outside, and for the first time he could remember, the sound filled him with dread instead of comfort.

He’d been rescued from the wreck, then. Just not by the right party.

The Commodore groaned again and rolled to his other side, to relieve some weight from his shoulder. Something else entered his field of vision — a pair of boots, one the other side of the iron bars. The boots hugged a set of rather smallish feet, one of them tapping in sync with the pulsating pain just behind his temples. His breath hitched, and he lifted himself from the floor, careful not to make any sudden movements. His gaze slowly trailed up his foe.

A reedy timbre of a voice broke the silence.

“Oh my. How the mighty have fallen — was that the saying?”

The accent belonged to one of Naboo’s upper crust, just like His Majesty’s. The Commodore squinted his eyes when they reached the face of his jailor, and blinked rapidly. Was it possible?…

“You,” he stumbled forward and grabbed the iron bars because he needed the support. He hoped the gesture came across as intimidating. “You must be ‘Queen’ Amidala!”

The young pirate in front of him chuckled, and lifted her hand to her tricorne hat for a mock salute.

“And you, Commodore Skywalker, are at my service.”

He started at that, and ran his eyes over her. He noted several rows of chevrons, taken as trophies from various Imperial Navy Officer ranks, pinned to her hat in a pattern unabashedly dictated by nothing else than aesthetics. She had even managed a few golden chevrons, from a flag officer — in fact, it was the exact number the Crown bestowed on a Commodore, just one marker short of an admiral.

His grip on the bars tightened and he ground his teeth. The infamous Pirate Queen, who had cowed the Western Fleet into sailing only two remaining safe routes, the terror who had reduced several elite squadrons of his Majesty’s Black Armada to a scuttle of shivering incompetents piled on rickety rafts, was a waif of a woman — way too small for the stolen Navy jacket she was wearing — and in fact, not that much older than him. Gorgeous, too, in a way that derailed any further thought. His brain slipped the latter as a side note, and he threatened to drive a hot spike through it.

The ugly fact was that he, the Emperor’s chosen protegé, the rising star of the Imperial Navy, had fallen right into her trap, just like the line of pompous fools before him. And his prospects… well… he just hoped for a quick execution. The fact that she had bothered to pluck him from the sea and had not tossed him back after uncovering his identity was deeply unnerving. His gaze returned to her eyes.

“I may be your prisoner, but I am decidedly not at your service, pirate scum!” he grated the words, trying to project bravado that he did not feel.

The queen smirked and raised an eyebrow. From the shadows at her side, another pirate stepped forward — a sturdy woman with one hand gripping a whip, and another tucked in her belt next to a sword hilt.

“Should I teach him some manners, Your Grace?”

“That won’t be necessary, Cordé — I am sure we will find him perfectly amiable at the end of this conversation.”

The Commodore did not like being spoken to in third person, not at all.

“Why am I still alive?” he demanded. “What happened to the rest of my men? Where is my fleet?”

The Queen sized him up and down with unnerving confidence. Her re-branded jacket was decorated like her hat, with bits and bobs pilfered from Navy rank insignia — a sizable collection of ribbons arranged by color, several medals, and, to complete the ensemble — not one, but three stars of valor — the highest distinction of an award in the fleet. To see them on a pirate… He drew his eyebrows together, pursing his lips.

Her melodic voice broke his consternation.

“The rest of your — might I add, ‘very fine’ fleet, now forms my vanguard, Commodore. Thank you.” The hair on the back of his neck rose, while the pirate put a hand to her chin, and tsk-ed, as if he had somehow come up short upon closer inspection. “And you are alive because I am not wasteful.”

Her hand shifted from her chin into a theatrical arc.

“Allow me to present your options: I can either ransom you to your Emperor, who I expect to find most generous in securing the return of his strategic genius — that is, if you still deserve the title.” Here, she issued a mock pout and skewered him with her uncommonly expressive pair of dark eyes. “I am sure His Imperial Majesty will be nothing but magnanimous after you explain just how you lost his favorite secret fleet on her maiden voyage.” Something in the Commodore’s chest tightened. “Or,” she gripped one of his cell bars, not too far from his own hand, and he could sense her guard tensing a few steps away, “you can cooperate with me on a small trifle of an ask, and I will let you, what’s left of your men, and two of your ships go.”

The Commodore swallowed, hard.

“A trifle.” he echoed with a pause, “Of an ask?”

“That is correct. Think about it.” She gave him a pearly smile, released the bar and waved her fingers at him energetically, then turned to leave.

“Wait!” his heart was thumping so loud in his throat that each new word was a struggle, “What ask?”

“All in due time, Commodore.”

She had reached the stairs leading to the upper deck, and he noticed that her coat, while haphazardly retro-sized to fit the width of her shoulders, still reached well below her knees. And, it bore an unmistakable singe mark in the shape of a dog’s head, on the lower left side just in the back. His eyes widened. The eight chevrons, the three golden stars for valor — “Hey!” he raised his voice and rattled the iron bars: “That is my coat!”

She paused, and turned back with a smile that sent the dust particles in the air dancing.

“Was. It was your coat, Mr. Skywalker.”

He watched her small feet ascend the stairs of a Pirate ship now helming his fleet, under his coat, his chevrons and his stars, and sank down in the corner of his cell, pondering just how one man’s fortune can change so profoundly in a day. The Commodore cursed in every language he knew, as his headache pressed on in its best effort to end him. He wished it luck.

#my art things #my fanfic #pirate queen amidala #commodore skywalker #anidala #pirate au #tumblr snippet #got some new procreate brushes and this happened

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clockworkflicker · 3 years

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Restraint [f/f]

Lakka/Hotaru; I’ve had these OCs for over a year and I love them to pieces but this is the first thing I’ve written for them; content warning for light emeto, whump, and mess; heads up this particular fic leans a bit more into h/c than kinkfic (gotta establish characters and setting somehow lmao)

~~~

“I still don’t follow why we’re taking the biomath geeks with us.” Lakka rummages through her bag and pulls out one of three stainless steel water bottles, taking a swig.

“It’s much easier to work with data when you’re involved in its collection.” Cameron glances over at his labmate in the passenger seat - she doesn’t look convinced - and then fixes his gaze back on the country road sprawling before them. “And we could use the extra manpower. This operation’s a little big for just one poorly funded disaster ecology lab.”

“Yeah, well, they’ve probably never even set up a leghold trap before, let alone handled a drugged-up wolf. I jus’ worry they’ll slow us down ‘cause they don’t know what they’re doing.”

“Lakka-”

“I saw one of them was wearing skinny jeans when we loaded up the trucks. Skinny jeans, Cam! What the fuck! We told them, ‘Remember, we’ll be trekking through woodland all day, wear something warm and sturdy but easy to move around in.’ And yet-!”

“Lakka.”

Lakka sighs. “Yeah?”

“They’ve all gone through training. They’ll be a little slow the first few days and then get it figured out. And don’t worry about jeans guy. He’s wearing the jeans, not you.” Cameron sees a smirk tug at his companion’s lips. “Besides. At least he didn’t wear his jorts.”

She snorts, gagging a little on her water. “God, those fucking jorts. Midwesterners, man.”

“I admire his work ethic, I guess.” Cameron clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “But I really don’t care to admire his legs every time he shows up to steal the last of the coffee from the breakroom.”

“Oh wow, Cam, are you telling me that there are guys in the world you don’t find attractive?”

“I’m gay, Lakka, not dense.”

~~~

Lakka whistles. “So this is Boundary Falls, huh?” She cranes her neck to get a better look at the autumn woodland surrounding them as she steps out of Cameron’s pickup truck.

“Mmm. You’d never guess it’s a restricted-entry toxic wasteland.” With some effort, Cameron hauls several bags of equipment from the trunk.

“I’d hardly call it that.” Lakka slings her backpack over her shoulder and grabs the rest of the equipment. “Humanity hasn’t touched this place since the 90′s. It’s simultaneously a wasteland and a haven.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Cameron spots another pickup truck approaching, and waves them over. “Now you’re just asserting your hypothesis as fact.”

“Fine, you got me. All I’m saying is that ecosystems are inherently more complex than meets the eye.” She watches two grad students from the theoretical biology lab step out of their car. Lakka frowns when she sees that one of them is skinny jeans guy. God, she’d been hoping he was with the team over on the east entrance, not with her at the west.

“Hey Hotaru, Dustin, glad to see you all made it.” Cameron smiles. “Let’s pair off and set up the traps, yeah?”

They chatter in affirmation and gather around as Cameron unfolds a map of the forest preserve.

“Dustin, you wanna come with me and we’ll go down south along the river, while Hotaru and Lakka take the north trail? And we’ll meet back here once we’re all done, and then drive back to the cabin.”

Lakka smiles to herself, fully aware of the favor Cam is doing her.

“Sounds good!” Dustin grins. To his left, Hotaru hums in agreement. The difference in how the two are dressed is striking - Hotaru looks like she actually bothered to buy outdoorsy attire for the occasion, her smallish frame bundled up in a respectable offering of robust layers, sleek black hair neatly tied back.

“Rad, we’ll see y’all later, then. Text if ya need anything.” Lakka turns to leave and motions for Hotaru to follow.

“Right back at’cha,” Cameron calls after her.

The north trail is narrow and mostly uphill, flanked by underbrush and the mid-October hues of autumn.

“Here, can I take one of those bags?” Hotaru offers after quietly clearing her throat. “Lakka, right?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” Lakka’s gaze lingers for just a second on Hotaru’s outstretched hand. Equipment in her grasp, Lakka pulls the shorter woman into a handshake before handing the bag over. “Lakka Virkkala.”

“Hotaru Akiyama. It’s nice to formally meet you, Lakka.”

“You as well. So Cam tells me you’re a theoretical biologist. Is that, like, a biologist, but only in theory?” A playful smirk creeps across her face.

“Yeah, like how you’re, what, a disaster ecologist, right?” Hotaru chuckles. “You certainly seem like the disastrous type.”

Lakka exhales a laugh. “Yeah that’s me. So what do you work on? Theoretically, I mean.”

Hotaru brightens, apparently eager to talk about her area of study. “Computational models at the population level, mostly. With a specialization in spatial modelling. I’m looking forward to getting tracking data out here.”

“Oh my, they didn’t tell me that I’d get to work with someone who does modelling,” Lakka says in feigned astonishment. “I woulda worn my nicest work flannel.”

Hotaru waves her away with a giggle. “Oh no, I don’t do that kind of modelling. That would be Dusty’s area of expertise.”

“Oh thank god, I was afraid that Cam an’ I were the only ones who noticed his... uh. Fashion sense. What’s his deal, anyway?”

With a smirk, Hotaru launches into an exaggerated Minnesotan accent. “You act like you’ve never had the pleasure of interactin’ with a straight white boy from ‘round here. Shorts an’ hoodies and jeans are all they wear, don’tcha know.”

“You’re a local as well, I take it?”

“Oh, you betcha,” Hotaru drawls, looking quite amused with herself. She briefly presses a knuckle against her nose and switches back to her normal accent (or lack thereof). “Speaking of, you don’t sound Midwestern. Where’re you from?”

“Wyoming. I grew up near Yellowstone, which I feel is all anyone really needs to know about me to understand my personality.”

Hotaru glances over at her. She really does look like she was made to be working out here; decently tall and sturdy, her dark wavy bob seasoned with burnt umber sun-bleached streaks - evidence of many afternoons spent outdoors. A thick, well-worn burgundy flannel lies atop her shoulders. And yet her tortoiseshell glasses and freckled nose and cheeky smile betray her otherwise husky appearance.

They come upon an offshoot of the trail where several downed trees make traversal more difficult.

“This looks like a good spot over here, in the space between those fallen trees. That’s probably a high-traffic area.” Lakka sets down her bags and kneels down, leaves crunching beneath her. “Let’s get to work.”

Hotaru joins her, and to Lakka’s surprise, she starts setting up a leghold trap right away, with no instruction.

“Oh, have you, uh, done this before?” Lakka eyes her deft, fluid movements. It looks so natural, like she’s done this a million times.

“Just once,” Hotaru says with an air of confidence that is not at all indicative of someone who’s only set up a leghold trap once. “We had to for the required fieldwork training.”

Lakka furrows her brow slightly in confusion, but sighs and elects to busy herself with setting up a concealed wildlife camera nearby. “Well, they did a good job teaching you, and you picked it up real well.”

~~~

The four finish their work not long before sundown and drive out to their cabin as the stars overhead begin to fade into view.

Their lodging is owned by their university research department, and is a fifteen minute drive from the study site. It’s financially convenient, if a bit lacking in the typical amenities one would expect from nicer forms of temporary housing. Namely, given that this is a two-lab operation, they’re a little short on space. Cam, being the angel he is, is the first to offer to take the couch.

Lakka and Hotaru end up together in a room down the hall. Hotaru hides a grimace upon stepping inside and realizing how small their room - and by extension, their bed - is. While she’s not particularly claustrophobic, the idea of living in such close quarters with someone unfamiliar (and dare she say, attractive) makes her uneasy. She’s starting to wish she’d beaten Cameron to offering to take the couch.

The first few days of the outing pass without incident. In spite of some inexperience on the part of those from the theoretical biology lab, the team handles the rounds with relative efficiency. Every now and then, a wolf will turn up in the traps, prompting a few of them to head back out to the woods to secure a tracking collar around the wolf’s neck, take some measurements, and let it go.

All the while, the weather’s been significantly more dreary than forecasted. If the research team knew that it would be consistently cold and rainy for most of the week, they would’ve postponed their excursion.

Between the gloomy weather and the physical toll of adjusting to doing field work for the first time, the innocuous little ache lingering in Hotaru’s throat at the beginning of the week flourishes into a drippy head cold. In general, she’d much rather ride out a cold by her lonesome, hidden away from the world back at her apartment, but that’s not an option this time. She does her best to downplay and ignore it, which is, admittedly, a quite convincing act, though the tissues piling up in the trash bins and the rapidly dwindling supply of tea in the pantry do not go entirely unnoticed.

~~~

Hotaru awakens to an electronic wail droning through her skull. She groans and pinches the bridge of her nose, hazily hoping that doing so may ease the dull pain.

She feels the bed shift beside her. Hotaru pries open a bleary eye to see Lakka reaching over top of her to mute the trap alarm going off on her bedside table. “Wakey wakey, sunshine; gotta go see what we caught.”

Hotaru grumbles a throaty reply and rolls out of bed with a shiver. A glance over at the clock confirms her suspicions - 4:07am. This is the fourth morning in a row she’s been dragged awake before dawn. Why did she agree to do field work? Why? She could be asleep right now.

In a daze, she slips off her pajamas and throws on a few layers, concluding with a maroon fleece jacket and stuffing a few tissues in the pockets. She only snaps back to reality when she finds herself staring down a granola bar several inches from her face.

“Hey. Breakfast.”

Hotaru blinks, finally processing Lakka standing before her, offering her an oats and honey granola bar. “Thanks,” she says with a sniff.

“C’mon, let’s hustle,” Lakka says, biting into her own granola bar, throwing on her backpack, and trekking out the door.

~~~

Although she was still a little dozy when they left the cabin, Hotaru is wide awake after five minutes in a university-owned pickup with Lakka Virkkala at the wheel. She grips the ceiling handle a little tighter as Lakka takes a hard right into the Boundary Falls Ecological Preserve’s west entrance.

“Can you check which one of the traps we’re receiving a positive signal from?” Lakka says, tilting her head towards the equipment bag at Hotaru’s feet. She parks at the end of the road and steps out into the misty pre-dawn wood.

Hotaru staggers out of the car after her, trap monitor in hand. “Up by the bend in the river. The seventh one we set up the other day.”

Grabbing her things, Lakka grins. “Let’s go get you some more tracking data to work with, then.”

Traversing the woods this early in the morning is an entirely different beast from getting around in broad daylight. Though she’s been out here at this hour several times already, Hotaru still finds herself uneasy, acutely aware of the inadequacy of her senses for navigating in low light.

They come upon the river and follow it north, weaving through underbrush and around downed trees.

“Right there, right between those birches,” Lakka says, her voice low.

Hotaru eyes the wolf, lying limp among fallen leaves. “Is it okay?”

“Yeah, just terrified and playing dead. That’s normal. Keep your distance ‘til I get ‘em drugged, okay?” Lakka creeps through the trees and carefully aims a tranquillizer dart at the mound of ashen fur splayed on the forest floor.

A few minutes pass as they quietly wait for the sedative to take effect. A hazy drizzle descends upon the woods, making the leaves beneath their boots slick with rain.

Lakka motions for Hotaru to come join her, and the two carefully free the wolf’s slack leg from the trap. Its groggy icy-grey eyes meet Hotaru’s as she helps Lakka carry it to a nearby clearing.

Lakka gently wraps a GPS collar around the wolf’s limp neck. She and Hotaru methodically run through a checklist of data to record, from measuring the length of its canine teeth to drawing a small blood sample for later analysis. Again, Lakka finds herself caught off guard by Hotaru’s relative confidence in doing such tasks.

The rain’s starting to pick up, and the low rumble of thunder can occasionally be heard in the distance as they work. Amid jotting down measurements, Hotaru resigns to periodically dabbing at her nose with a handful of tissues, though the weather prevents her from making much of a difference.

Between the ambience of the storm and their focus on the drugged wolf, neither of them pick up on the rustling of the underbrush nearby.

Lakka barely processes the shock of dark tawny fur in her periphery before it darts out from the murky shadows at them, pearly teeth glimmering in the low light. She scrambles to her feet, firmly planting her boots to look as sturdy and intimidating as possible, and starts to yell.

Hotaru, on the other hand, made the mistake of instinctively holding her arms out defensively as the wolf came running at her. With a snarl, it yanks at her forearm before Lakka manages to drive it away.

Hardly able to parse what’s going on, Hotaru finds herself knocked over in the mud and leaves, all of her nerves bristling. She only returns to reality at the sound of Lakka’s voice - no longer yelling, just concerned.

“Hotaru, are you with me?”

“Mmm. Yeah. Yeah I, uh, I think so. It could be worse.”

Lakka glances down at her to assess the damage, all warm blood and cold mud. It could be worse is hardly how she would choose to describe the wound. “M’kay, that’s great. How much pain are you in?”

Hotaru draws in an uneven, sniffly breath and shakes her head a little. “’M all adrenaline right now, can barely feel it.”

“Alright. We’re gonna get you cleaned up a bit and then take you to the ER.” Lakka shrugs off her flannel and carefully presses it against the blood swamping Hotaru’s torn fleece sleeve. “Can you move your arm? We want it elevated.”

“Yea-hehH... HHET’chhH--!” She buckles in on herself and stifles a harsh sneeze against her unscathed arm.

“Bless you.” Lakka gently guides Hotaru’s bloodied arm into an upright position. She ties her flannel snugly around the wound, then stands. “Let’s get back to the car. No reason to hang around here, that wolf might come back.”

~~~

The drive and the ER visit pass her by in a blur, nebulous and intangible the way that dreams and nightmares are. Hotaru remembers having some distant concerns about Lakka damaging their university-owned vehicle on the way to the hospital, and the next thing she knew, she was being whisked away under oppressively bright lights and through sterile hallways.

She wakes up tucked in bed back in her and Lakka’s room at the cabin, and it almost seems like it could have all been a bad dream. But her arm aches. She attempts to roll over, but winces in pain when she finds her undamaged arm to be surprisingly sore as well.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Lakka says, looking up from her laptop at the desk. “How’re you feeling?”

Hotaru raises her less-sore arm to rub a bit of sleep from her eyes. “What day is it?”

“Still Saturday.” Lakka checks her watch. “About a dozen hours since we were out in the woods.” She pauses, looking a little unsure of herself. “You’ve been pretty out of it. Do you remember what happened?”

Hotaru notes a small holographic bandaid stuck to her tricep, contrasting starkly with the thick layer of medical wrap coiled around her other arm. She quietly clears her throat and swipes the back of her hand under her tender nose with a careful sniffle. “There was a second wolf. You drove us to the ER. Might’ve dinged up the car along the way, can’t remember.”

Lakka scoffs. “I hit a few potholes, big deal. The Department of Ecology can kiss my ass if they’re gonna have a problem with me getting a couple’a bruises on their pickup. I was panicking, what can I say?”

“Y’know in my experience,” Hotaru slumps back down in bed. “Driving with you is always like that.”

“Sure, sure, whatever. So anyway, we got to the ER and they got you stitched up and gave you a rabies shot and all that.”

“Mmm.” Another shiver rushes down Hotaru’s spine, and she feels her stomach twist. Beneath the blankets, she curls more tightly in on herself, still trembling.

Lakka walks over and gently brushes a few strands of tangled hair away from Hotaru’s face. She presses the back of her hand to her companion’s forehead, and Hotaru leans into her touch. “You’re feverish. Try to get some sleep, yeah?”

Hotaru swallows thickly and cracks open an eye. Her nerves are still bristling with adrenaline the same as they were that morning, only now her body lacks the energy to act on that adrenaline. Rationally, she knows she has no reason to panic, but she feels she can hardly hold herself together at this point, like she’s about to leap from her skin. Her vision blurs a little, her sinuses burn, and she sniffles in irritation.

“Oh. Oh hey...” Lakka’s expression softens in concern, her voice uncharacteristically tender.

Oh god, she’s crying, isn’t she? Hotaru presses her eyes shut, a fruitless attempt to will back the tears trickling down her flushed cheeks. Perfect, she definitely needed yet another reason for her nose to be running.

Lakka sits down next to her and lays a hand on her shoulder. “What can I do to help you right now?”

Hotaru hesitates, almost unable to bring herself to indulge in a moment of vulnerability. “W-would -snf- you keep me c-company?”

“Yeah, ‘course.” With her free hand, Lakka passes her a tissue and then pulls out her phone and opens her texts.

LV at 4:47pm hey Cam, I need a favor. I know I said I’d be good to help with doing the pm rounds today, but I don’t wanna leave Hotaru by her lonesome right now

CM at 4:47pm Of course, no problem! Is she doing okay?

LV at 4:48pm having an unpleasant reaction to the rabies shot, I think. that or all the stress of doing sustained field work for the first time + getting attacked by an apex predator finally knocked her on her ass. maybe both

Hotaru’s attempting to clean herself up as quietly as possible when a thick, waterlogged sneeze sneaks up on her. Her hand snaps up to meet her face as she shudders forward with the force of it. Lakka gently rubs her shoulder in sympathy.

LV at 4:48pm and she’s been fighting off a cold for the last few days

CM at 4:49pm She’s pretty tough, all things considered. Keep me updated if you guys need anything.

LV at 4:49pm yeah no kidding. and will do. thanks man

The tissue clenched in her hand has definitely outlived its usefulness, but Hotaru doesn’t really know what to do with herself besides trying to make it work anyway. She feels downright disgusting and is already regretting having asked Lakka to stay with her while she’s like this.

In her peripheral vision, she sees Lakka pull another tissue from her pocket and offer it to her. Hotaru’s brain short circuits for a second. Oh god why does Lakka have tissues oh no oh god she got her sick, didn’t she?? This is The Worst Timeline, how could this happen?? Well actually it could happen very easily and this was maybe the result she should have expected, but--

“Uh, Hotaru? You good?”

Hotaru blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, ndo, for sure.” Before she can accept the clean tissue or say anything else, her eyelashes flutter and she twists away from Lakka. “hhh-! hH’CHHUHshh!”

“Guess I was right to start carrying these around for your sake, huh?” Lakka gestures a little with the tissue she’s holding out to her companion. “Bless you.”

Hotaru doesn’t know whether to be relieved by Lakka’s apparent wellbeing or self-conscious over the fact that this woman has not only been aware of her cold for some time now, but also has been carrying around tissues for her because of it. She sets the thought aside for the time being and gratefully accepts the tissue. “Thandk you.”

She carefully mops herself up and sets the tissues aside on her bedside table. With an exhausted sigh, Hotaru lies back down, subconsciously cuddling up to Lakka’s side. Lakka adjusts the blankets a little, and begins to gently play with her companion’s tangled hair as Hotaru drifts off, her sleep occasionally punctuated by damp sniffles and quiet whimpers.

~~~

Hotaru startles awake, her stomach churning. She hazily struggles against the mountain of blankets weighing down on her before managing to stumble out of bed and to the bathroom.

Collapsing onto the cold tile floor, she distantly wonders if this is within the normal range of rabies shot side effects. Maybe she should go grab her phone and check? Or maybe it’s a stomach bug that happens to also have respiratory symptoms?

Before she can act on her concerns, however, another surge of adrenaline and panic rushes through her, finally forcing her body to begin to convulse. Hotaru retches, but only a bit of bile comes up. She whimpers in discomfort, and her figure tenses beneath her oversized pajamas.

Pain shoots up her spine. An agonizing wail, her body writhes, her fingernails uselessly scrape at the tile floor. She’s not safe. She has to get out. The walls are closing in on her. The hum of the world around her is deafening. Everything feels so, so wrong.

She attempts to yank the door open, but finds herself too panicked to even grasp the doorknob properly. Her head swims, unable to keep hold of a coherent thought beyond simply run, flee, get out of here. She continues to struggle against the door.

A sudden noise makes her flinch. Not far away, she hears the creak of a bed and approaching footsteps. There’s someone here with her, but she can’t recall who.

A knock from the other side of the door. Hotaru jumps away, nervous. She hears a voice, but she can’t parse what’s being said, or who the voice belongs to, for that matter.

She remembers why she came into the bathroom in the first place. She’s tired. She feels sick. Without much energy left to do anything else, she crumbles onto the floor with a moan. A bizarre sense of calm washes over her, similar to the serenity one tends to feel immediately after puking. This makes sense, she assumes.

“Hotaru, are you good in there?”

Oh, it’s that woman’s voice. Lakka. Of course. “Yeah... Yeah, I’m okay.” Her voice comes out ragged and uncharacteristically hesitant. “God, I had... a terrible fever dream.”

“You had a terrible fever dream in our bathroom?” Even without being able to see her, Lakka’s tone makes it obvious that she currently has an eyebrow raised in incredulity.

Hotaru carefully picks herself up off the floor and glances in the mirror. She... looks a bit like shit. “It was more of a feverish trance. Kinda awake but not really processing things properly.”

“You were screaming. Do you need anything? Painkillers? Sprite?”

After attempting to clean up her face a bit, Hotaru opens the door to see Lakka standing there in her plaid pajama pants and tank top. “I think I’ll be alright. Thank you, though.” She puts on the most convincing smile she can muster, which is, in fact, quite convincing.

“Fair enough.” Lakka glances away, rubbing the back of her neck and looking a little sheepish. “Just let me know if that changes, okay? I’m like, the world’s heaviest sleeper, but you have full permission to just, I don’t know, holler in my face or shove me out of bed to wake me up if you need something.”

It’s cute, Hotaru thinks, how easily and earnestly this nerdy jock falls into acting like a total mother hen.

Lakka’s brow furrows and she crinkles her freckled nose. “It smells like wolf in here.”

An unsettling wave of slow realization washes over Hotaru, and for the first time all day, she knows that the dread sitting heavy in her stomach has nothing to do with the cold she’s been ignoring for the past few days. She chances a glance back at the open bathroom door. The bottom half of the interior side is all scraped up.

Hotaru replies in a calm, measured voice. “Oh, that’s probably just because I left the clothes I was attacked in in here. Only just got around to washing them.”

“Mmm.” Lakka presses a yawn against her palm. “I’m goin’ back to bed. You get some more sleep too, yeah?”

“Of course,” Hotaru nods. She busies herself with brushing her teeth as Lakka returns to their bed. Hotaru grabs her phone from her bag in the bedroom, sets an alarm for 4:00am - just enough time to ensure she’s the first one awake if she does manage to sleep tonight - and gently shuts herself back in their tiny bathroom.

So she briefly turned into a wolf tonight. Because of course she did. Because of course lycanthropy is real. Of course. And she just happens to find this out while fighting a cold and attempting to do field work for the first time.

And she has no clue if or when it’ll happen again.

Leaning back against the door, Hotaru unlocks her phone again and checks her weather app. No full moon tonight. Great to know that the normal ‘werewolf rules’ don’t apply. She sighs and presses a handful of tissues to her nose. She guesses she’ll just keep herself isolated as best she can until she gets a better handle on this whole turning into a wolf thing. Convenient, given that this cold has her feeling like holing herself up in her apartment for days on end anyway.

~~~

As expected, Hotaru wakes up to her 4am alarm. She’s curled up on the bathroom floor, and thankfully, feels fully-human (or at least as fully-human as one can feel with an awful cold). She sniffles and grabs some toilet paper to attempt to clear her airways a bit. All the nausea’s gone, which she takes to be a good sign, and it feels like her fever’s gone back down. Discarding the tissue, she distantly wonders if her feverish mind managed to imagine most of last night’s disaster.

The claw marks etched into the bottom of the bathroom door remind her otherwise.

Exhausted and content that she probably won’t turn back into a wolf in the coming daylight hours, Hotaru creeps back into bed beside Lakka.

~~~

As always, Lakka gets up at Ungodly-Early-o’-Clock and heads out to the woods. She’s careful not to disturb Hotaru, and makes a point of leaving breakfast for her on her bedside table before she leaves.

When she’s back early that afternoon, she finds Hotaru awake and making herself some tea in the kitchen.

“Hey, good news! We got the last of the GPS collars on wolves,” Lakka smiles. “And Cam an’ I just finished packing up the traps. We’re good to head home this evening, probably at five or so.”

Hotaru brightens a little. “That’s great.”

“You doing a bit better?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Hotaru sips at her tea. “Sorry for all the trouble.”

“Don’t apologize to me, I’m not the one here who got bitten by a wolf.” Lakka gives a humorless chuckle. “Really. It’s been great working with you. And I’m looking forward to seeing the magic you can work with all this tracking data.”

“It’s been nice working with you too.”

~~~

The following day at the lab, Lakka spends much of her morning and afternoon frequenting the breakroom for coffee and brief moments of respite from the slog of working through data entry. But each time, she finds the room frustratingly empty, save for a few run-ins with Dustin, who has returned to his normal routine of wearing jorts to work and drinking the last of the coffee without brewing more.

Several days pass. Like clockwork, after coming back from the community ecology class she TA’s for, she spends entire afternoons grading papers in the breakroom. In that time, she must’ve seen every grad student in the entire ecology department.

Except for the one she was hoping to run into.

#i promise that this IS a sickfic it just takes a hot minute #lakka/hotaru #sorry that im only capable of writing biologist characters #can you tell i love writing dialogue? i love writing dialogue.#shoutouts to mai for beta'ing this! ty again!#disclaimer: im not rly a monsterfcker i just think the interplay between #Sick and The Inconvienence Of Transforming Into A Werewolf is a fun one #other disclaimer: the largest wild animal i've ever handled is a canadian goose so uhhh #hopefully my depiction of wolf research isn't too far off but WHO KNOWS #fic #wlw #my writing

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cynicalrainbows · 4 years

Text

Writers Block Pt 4

Shameless fluff. Utterly self indulgent. Possibly some self projection onto Cathy. Hopefully still readable. If anyone isn’t clear, the incident I refer to in the fic in which Henry nearly has Cathy beheaded is true.

Her own voice sounds quiet and flat compared to Anne’s more energetic efforts- pathetic, just like she is- but Anne is beaming at her as if she’s actually done something and that’s encouraging.

‘Sometimes, I hate research too. I hate all of it.’

It’s slightly louder but there’s still not much energy behind it. Even so… having said it out loud feels oddly pleasing. She’s said it- and Anne doesn’t look horrified. The roof hasn’t fallen in. no one has swept in to take away her credentials for her ingratitude.

‘I hate how it takes forever and I hate that I’m so tired all the time. I like writing but…. Sometimes I just want to rest, you know? We do the show and it’s like ‘Oh obviously Cathy’s going to work’ but sometimes I just want to chill out with you guys! But then I feel like I’m letting everyone down-’

Anne’s nodding at her frantically- ‘Keep going, keep going!’- so she does.

‘I can’t write anything else. I’ve been trying and trying and…. I’m just done. I don’t even care anymore, I don’t care if I finish the book or if I lose readers… I just want to not have to be working for a change because it’s too much, it’s too much to do as well as the show and I just, I can’t anymore- I dont have any ideas, I don’t have any plans, I don’t even know what I want to say anymore and nothing sounds good and…..’

With every word, it gets easier- it’s traitorous, it’s true.

‘-and I hate that I’m the only one to have to do all this, and I know I chose to and I know I like it…. but sometimes I don’t and now everyone expects things from me and it’s so hard because I’m letting everyone down, I’ve made Catalina hate me, and I’m meant to be the writer and I can’t even do that anymore-’

She can feel herself starting to cry- she tries to brush the tears away with her wrists but it doesn’t help, it just makes everything blur. She feels pathetic, she feels like a child. They’ve all seen Kitty cry, she’s even seen Jane give in to tears a couple of times….but she’s meant to be beyond this.

She’s calm, she’s rational. (Except she isn’t.) Anne will surely be uncomfortable, and who can blame her, since Cathy is essentially just bewailing something that she brought entirely on herself. Perhaps if she doesn’t look at the other girl, Anne will be able to leave the room without it being too awkward-

And then arms- Anne’s arms- are wrapping around her, pulling her close. Her face ends up buried into the soft worn cotton of Anne’s green hoody and despite her best efforts, she hears herself let out a sob of pent up exhaustion and fear.

Anne doesn’t pull away- she just holds her more tightly and it’s a surprise, how strong her arms feel. For a smallish person, she feels reassuringly sturdy, stable. Safe.

(Or perhaps it’s just that it’s been a while since anyone touched her.)

‘It’s alright.’ Anne’s breath tickles her ear. ‘It’s all going to be ok.’

She’s grateful for the hug but platitudes have always irritated her- she wants to tell Anne that of course it isn’t alright- nothing is alright- but the thing is, she can’t really talk properly yet and her words are jumbled, blurry with tears. Anne seems to understand though.

‘We’ll fix this.’ Her voice is serious- it sounds like she actually means it. ‘We’ll sort something out, I promise. I know it feels awful right now and I don’t even blame you babes, but I promise, it’s all solvable. You just really need a break, huh?’

Cathy nods pathetically into Anne’s chest and Anne’s hand starts to rub across her tight shoulders.

‘Fuck your fans… I mean…. Not like literally or anything. Unless you want to. I guess.’ (It must be the muddled feeling brought on by the shouting and crying because why on earth would Anne sound almost jealous when talking about…..that? It’s surely proof Cathy is more sleep deprived than she thought)

‘Anyway….. What I mean is, you don’t owe them anything. You’ve given them two books and now you need to take care of yourself, ok?’

‘They’ll be….so disappointed….’ She knows it sounds a bit conceited to say it…..but it’s true (she wonders if Anne thinks she’s terribly egocentric…but she’s just shrugging, as if Cathy is right but that it doesn’t really matter. It’s the same way that she shrugs when Catalina warns her that her clothes will be creased if she throws them straight from the dryer onto her bedroom floor, or when Jane warns her that a bag of skittles does not a healthy breakfast make.)

‘I mean, probably? You’re an amazing writer.’

It’s a minor shock to Cathy to hear that Anne has actually read her work. She knows that the other queens have but Anne has never mentioned doing so, and Cathy isn’t exactly going to demand it of her- she hadn’t even expected the other queens to be interested, really. Not that Anne isn’t a reader- she must be, to have had such a reputation for learning in her first life- but….Cathy just assumed she wasn’t interested.

(She isn’t sure why the thought of Anne reading her work gives her butterflies- she’s sure she never felt them when she learnt that the others had read it…)

‘But books get delayed all the time. It’s just one of those things- people might whinge a bit but everyone who matters knows that you can’t force creativity. And you’ve already built up a good reputation- it’s not like you’re trying to get noticed, people know you can write already.’

Anne’s reassurance is welcome- but she also can’t suppress the flood of weariness that courses through her.

Having to justify herself, having to explain, having to find out the protocol for this… it has to be done, of course but….she’s tired. She’s just….so tired.

Then she realises she’s said it out loud. She expects Anne to be annoyed at her ingratitude- but when she risks a quick peep at the other queen’s face, there’s nothing there but sympathy.

‘I know babes. You won’t have to do it alone though, ok? I’ll talk to Jane and Aragon- I bet they’ll know more than I do, or they’ll know who to talk to anyway. Whatever. Just don’t worry about it- we’ll sort it all out for you ok?’

It sounds so reassuringly real when Anne says it like that- like she has people on her side, people to do her fighting for her when she’s not able to fight for herself. Funny that it has never occurred to her before that she could just...ask for help.

‘Thank you- I don’t know if it’ll be that easy… but thank you.’

‘We’ll make it work out.’ Anne repeats it stubbornly. ‘I’ll fight anyone you need me to.’

Cathy doesn’t want to ask if she means it literally or figuratively.

‘You can even-’

Anne draws back a bit and looks at her, serious now. ‘You can say it’s me if you need to.’

‘What?’

If you need like an excuse or something. If you don’t want to have to just say you’re tired. You can say it’s me. That I’m going through something, that you need to support me and you don’t have time to write. If you don’t want to ask for yourself.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh I don’t know- say I’m having post traumatic stress, say I’m having some intense therapy and you’re my support person. Say I’ve had a pregnancy scare- anything, I don’t care really. Just- if you need to make up a reason, I’ll back you up in anything you say. Just warn me first, ok?’

Anne really seems like she means it and her ernest expression makes Cathy’s throat tight all over again- the way she offers without hesitation, as if it doesn't even matter. She likes to think she’d do a lot for the other queens but she can’t imagine promising to fake a pregnancy scare for any of them- at least, not without seriously thinking it through first.

(It’s not as if she’d actually ask Anne to do that for her either… but the fact that she offered…. It makes her feel lighter, lighter than she has in weeks.

She wants to tell Anne how grateful she is…. But it turns out that all she can manage is a mumbled thank-you before she’s crying again. This time, they’re tears of relief. She feels so much better…..although being so emotional really isn’t her normal state.

Anne doesn’t seem phased though- she just draws her in again with one arm and digs in her pocket for tissues with her free hand.

‘There was something else you said-’ She passes the tissues over to Cathy who wipes her eyes gratefully. ‘You know Aragon definitely doesn’t hate you right?’

She really doesn’t want to think of that right now- she definitely doesn’t want to talk about it- but she thinks Anne probably deserves an explanation. She’s taking up enough of her time (and her tissues. And Anne’s definitely going to have to wash her hoody now.)

‘I…. got a bit cross with her earlier.’

‘Ooh!’ Anne looks interested. ‘What did you say?’

‘I shouted. Told her to go away. Stop nagging, leave me alone….’

She wants to bite out her tongue for saying it at all… but Anne, when she looks up at her expecting to see her looking disgusted with Cathy’s ingratitude to the person who loves her most…..she’s laughing.

‘Is that ALL?’

‘….yes?’ (Isn’t it enough?)

‘Oh my god, of course she won’t hate you for that!’ Anne tries to bite back another giggle and fails. ‘God, I know you’re always working but you’ve got ears- haven’t you heard us screaming at each other before?’

‘Well-’

(Now Anne mentions it-)

‘It’s...what half past two?’ Anne checks the time by just full-on rotating Cathy’s wrist to see her watch. ‘I’ve already called her a bitch twice this week and it’s only Tuesday. And she threatened to strangle me with my scarf if I left my stuff on the bannister rather than hanging it up. And don’t even get me started on last week when i used her conditioner-’

It’s true, Cathy supposes. Shouting matches aren’t exactly uncommon in the house. But somehow it’s different when it’s between Anne and Aragon- or even Anna and Anne.

It’s loud but it doesn’t mean anything really- its just how they communicate. That Anne calls Aragon a bitch for using up the last of the hot water does not prevent her from offering to drive her to church when Aragon’s car won’t start. Aragon threatening to kill Anne in ever more inventive ways for leaving her belongings scattered around the house does not prevent her from making the younger queen a cup of tea after she’s done shouting.

That’s…..not her though. She and Kitty and Jane dont really go in for shouting or threats and so it feels different. More serious.

She tries to explain it to Anne.

‘- and then she just left’

‘Did she say anything?’

‘No. She just… went.’

Cathy presses her hands over her stinging eyes. ‘What if she was really hurt?’

‘Probably wanted to give you some space babes.’

‘But-’

‘That’s what she said to me anyway.’

Cathy’s head snaps up.

‘What? When?’

‘Well I was coming up to check on you anyway but then she was coming down the stairs when I was going up and she asked if I’d look in on you because she was worried…’

‘Did she look upset?’

Her heart lifts a bit anyway. Catalina did still care, at least a bit….

‘Mmm…..concerned, I’d say, more than upset. She really cares about you.’ Anne squeezes her hand. ‘Honestly, I think she just didn’t want to make things worse by staying because you seemed so stressed out. But she’s not cross, honestly.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course! In fact, if you’re that worried, just come and talk to her- you can even say sorry if you really want-’ Anne sits up. Cathy is dislodged and it feels suddenly colder, now she’s not nestled against Anne’s chest. ‘-but I bet she won’t let you.’

Anne makes it sound so easy but…. Cathy knows she won’t be able to make anyone else really understand. That’s not how it works, not for her.

They had all been clear that talking to Henry wouldn’t work- it was beyond that. She hadn’t been aware at the time that she’d pushed too far but she knew she had- the warrant in her hand was proof of that. It was terrifying really- how you could so carelessly talk your way out of someone’s favour without even realising, without even knowing you were doing it… or perhaps it was just her. In fact, it probably was her, there must be something wrong with her, that meant she couldn't read people, that she didn’t know when she was going too far. Even now, it scared her sometimes when she let herself think about it.

‘Hey-’ Anne’s hand touches her hair, brushing aside a wayward curl. ‘She’s not him you know.’

‘How did you-’

‘Because I was married to him too, remember?’ Anne smiles gently at her. ‘He screwed us all up a bit, in his own way.’

And Cathy supposes she’s right.

#six #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #parrlyn #cathy parr #stressed!Cathy #anne boleyn

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oldmanatom · 4 years

Text

Fallout OC seven day S.P.E.C.I.A.L.

so i saw this post cross my dash with a bunch of questions based on S.P.E.C.I.A.L stats, and i thought it was neat so i filled it out! and also stole the idea from @quickscribe to just do all the prompts at once and put it in a single post, so thank you for that. check it out below the cut:

this is all for Trinidad, my F4 PC who i haven’t talked about since 2016 so if you’re like “who the fuck is that” that’s 100% valid.

Day 1 - Strength

How physically strong is your OC? strong enough to haul her smallish pack of stuff around the wasteland, but not much stronger. she’d be able to pull herself up off a ledge, depending on how far off it she was and the angle she was hanging at, but she’s not doing pullups on the reg.

How good are they in melee or hand to hand combat? she’s competent enough to be able to defend herself if pressed, but typically prefers working with guns, not her hands. even CQC with pistols is preferable to a knife fight.

Do they just punch things or are they trained in martial arts? lord knows the Shady Pre-War Paramilitary Organization that she ran with threw just about every martial art form at her they could, but nothing’s been able to break her of the brawler fighting style she learned from her younger days. there’s little finesse but a lot of fast, hard punches and dirty fighting.

Can they carry very heavy guns around easily or carry loads of supplies, or are they not that strong? she only carries two guns—a pistol and a hunting rifle, to give her some flexibility with range—plus a fairly straightforward set of gear: food, water, whatever limited medical supplies she can scrape up, bedding, miscellaneous light survival tools (flint/steel, etc.). she’s not a pack mule, but her pre-War days gave her enough experience trekking around geared up to where she can handle her relatively light loadout with some flexibility if she finds something worth taking with her.

Day 2 - Perception

How good is your OC’s eyesight? Can they see well in low light conditions? very good. low light can be touchy, depending on the situation, but she’s got stellar eyesight overall.

How quickly or slowly do they notice anything suspicious? if something weird is happening, chances are she already knows about it. she’s been around the block enough to know to keep her eyes open always, not to mention the times that her perceptiveness and paranoia has been the only thing that made certain bad situations turn out in her favor.

How good is their aim? with a gun, very good. not surprising, since her pre-War job was being good at shooting, but while it’s something she’s been extensively trained on she also has something of a natural proficiency for it. (this combined with her eyesight made her pre-War employer try and tap her for their sniper training/positions, but she doesn’t quite have the patience or head for numbers that snipers need.)

How do they see the world around them? suspiciously at best. she was very-shellshocked once she came out of stasis, then disappointed once she started to get her feet under her and saw how much things have changed, and how much they haven’t. she holds things at a distance from her and tries to look at things objectively, though the line between “objective” and “dissociating to avoid having emotions” is a blurry one for her.

Day 3 - Endurance

What is your OC’s overall fitness level? is anyone really “fit” in a wasteland...? she’s fed, though not well most of the time, and with enough rest and resource management she’s generally able to do the physically demanding things that her journey through Boston demands of her.

How long can they exert themselves before tiring? depends on the activity. regular walking and traversing through ruins she can do for a good chunk of the day, though not at a breakneck pace and with some breaks. her age + extended sleep are starting to wear down on how well she can handle short bursts of frenzied activity and how long she needs to recover after them. she’s not pulling all-nighters except when absolutely necessary, and even then she’s feeling the effects far more than she remembers feeling them before the freeze.

Are they good at swimming, sprinting, running or climbing? aerobic exercise is Trinidad’s mortal enemy.

How well can they adapt to environmental pressures? she can grit her teeth and bear a lot of things, to an extent, but the toll they take on her once she’s through it is high. she’s not getting through a blizzard, sleeping for the night, and popping up the next day right as rain. the radiation also hits her harder than it does for the folks who were born post-War, and any higher-than-(post-War)-normal exposure to it tends to make her sick for days. (her initial days out of stasis actually were mostly spent dealing with lowish-grade radiation sickness until she finally adjusted, but even now she generally feels worse than normal if she spends too long in Boston proper.)

Day 4 - Charisma

How persuasive is your OC? about as persuasive as a brick wall. she’s never been particularly charismatic, and her line of work relied on her ability to be tough, quick, accurate, and quiet, not charming. to say her persuasion skills are rusty would be generous. outside of that, she’s blunt as a bat and hates verbal subterfuge—she just wants to ask a question and get a straightforward answer, not get run around in circles.

How easily can they obtain information that others may be less willing or inclined to share? well, if threats, intimidation, and a moderate amount of physical violence are on the table, than somewhat easily. otherwise, not easily at all.

How much verbal charm do they have? zippo. she makes up for it by not talking much.

Can they carry themselves with confidence? now this? she can absolutely do. partially it’s because she doesn’t talk much and had good posture drilled into her from said Shady Paramilitary Org, but she also has the air of someone who can’t be fucked with, because, well, she’s spent a lot of her life becoming someone who can’t be fucked with, for better and worse.

Day 5 - Intelligence

Can your OC read, write and do basic math? yes, though she’s never been a big math person. reading and writing are kind of whatever for her—she wasn’t much into reading before the War, but now that there’s precious little else to do to relax, she’s gotten more into it, and writing letters is about the only writing she really does much of.

What was the basis of their education i.e. were they formally educated or did they have to learn as they went? she dropped out of high school her senior year, though the two to three years preceding that she wasn’t exactly going very often, doing very well, or participating in the process much when she did show up. most of the knowledge she uses day-to-day has come from her growing up mostly unsupervised in the rougher areas of her neighborhood, training through Shady Paramilitary Org, and experience going to sketchy places and doing dangerous things.

Do they favour brains over brawn? a mix of both, with a little more emphasis on brawn, or at least on physical skills. she’s learned better than to go in firing, and typically likes to hang back and gather intel before acting, but she’s the kind of person where, if tasked with finding out about some illicit cover up, would break in and steal documents about it, not try and trick the target into giving info up. she likes the informed-but-straightforward solution to a situation, even if it’s not the one that looks the prettiest at the end of the day.

How good are they with technology? she’s good at figuring out how things work, as well as general repairs, especially things that are mechanical (versus electronics). as for using technology, she has basic knowledge of enough tech to get a sense for how something works and how to use it, but doesn’t necessarily rely on it much in her day-to-day life. the Pip-Boy she’s kept from Vault 111 is about the most advanced thing she uses daily, and even then, she mostly uses it for the map and the built-in Geiger counter.

Day 6 - Agility

How fast can your OC react to sudden changes? she’s quick to react to them physically—her life has very often depended on her reacting first to something—but her mind and emotions typically take a bit to catch up.

How good are they in combat situations where they are constantly moving? good enough to have survived 15 years worth of combat situations where she has to move quickly.

Are they quick on the draw with their weapons or not? very quick. though she’s more experienced with longer range weapons that can’t exactly be “stowed” quickly or easily, her time in Boston is really refining her CQC skills, quick-drawing being one of them.

Can they manoeuvre quickly around a slower assailant? for the most part! but she’s not particularly well-versed in judo-like movement redirection—she’s the kind of person that would likely try to deflect a blow or take it in a way that doesn’t stagger/hurt as much versus try to use the striker’s momentum against them. (she’s not the largest, most physically sturdy person, either, so this instinct has fucked her over more than once.) she’s not the fastest footed fighter, but she knows how to use what speed she might have to her advantage, and she’s perceptive and quick enough on her feet to use the environment against her attacker as well.

Day 7 - Luck

How fortunate (or not) overall is your OC? middle of the road. she’s not blessed, but not cursed, either.

Do they seem to stumble upon necessary supplies easily or never seem to find what they need? kind of a crapshoot, but middle of the road as well, for the most part.

Have they survived an injury that, had it been someone else, would have been fatal? not yet...

Do good things or bad things happen more around them? i would say she tends to find herself in bad situations and dealing with bad things more often than not, but i don’t know if it’s a matter of luck, necessarily—before the War, it was because that was just the kind of life she lived, and post-War she’s not exactly keeping herself out of the way of bad situations, though she’s not getting sent straight into them anymore, either.

#fallout oc seven day special #poor mutants down on their luck #shoot straight and run #did NOT see OP's note that the questions are more for guidance vs actually being. the things to answer lmao #and now that i've done it like this i'm like...hm...don't really want to go back and add more...love leaving gaps in my stuff...#idk if i'm going to write anything with trinidad but i like thinking abt what she'd be like if i actually. y'know. did something with her

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wehyus-furniture · 4 years

Text

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#furniture

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hypnoticnurse · 5 years

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Your New Home

This update is a it late due to me getting sick last week and my beta reader refusing to let me settle for less than my best. Enjoy!

Astrid stared at the woman with gold eyes in front of her. She drew in a sharp breath when she felt the smooth and cool surface of a mirror under her fingertips. She looked once more at the stranger before clenching her eyes shut.

‘Th...that’s not...that’s me…’

Her eyes opened slowly and her reflection stared back. Astrid moved closer to the mirror until she could only see her eyes. They were completely changed. They used to be a lovely sky blue, according to every idiot that flirted with her. Draconic eyes, through and through. Her pupils were slightly slitted. Now they were a light golden yellow with no white to be seen.

They were unnatural, not something that belonged on a human. These were not eyes that people looked at and ignored. Astrid felt her heart beating faster, a rapid tattoo on her chest.

‘I can just wear a hood and keep it low. Maybe wear a piece of cloth over them. I can make it work when I’m around people.’

Taking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Astrid willed her heart to slow down. She looked back into the mirror, into those gold eyes, and stepped back until she could see the rest of her face. Astrid scrutinized each feature and found them to be as she remembered. Ears were still round, a smallish nose, thin, pink lips and skin a healthy light blue.

Her face paled making her skin a thin cloud cover against the sky blue tone underneath it. Astrid tried and failed to draw a full breath. Her vision tunneled as she took in this new horror.

‘No. No. No. NO! I can’t hide blue skin! I’m marked. I’ll never be able to go into a settlement. This is a curse! This is…”

“Ow!”

Astrid rubbed the back of her head vigorously and looked around for whatever hit her. She was at a loss when she found herself alone, with no sign of anything capable of striking her. Then she heard the squawk. The dragon was angry.

“What was that OW!”

Stormfly pecked Astrid between her shoulder blades leaving a burning sting.

‘You don’t understand… how can I work, buy supplies or anything I need to in a human village looking like THIS?!”

Astrid threw up both of her hands, throwing the cloak behind her shoulders and exposing her naked form to the mirror. She looked over her body without seeing anything beyond the blue tint covering her entire body. Astrid could not breathe. She could never return to what she once looked like. She was an aberration.

Astrid flinched when Stormfly roared. She shared images of herself preening and caring for her blue scales. They shined in the sun, a testament to her beauty. The image blurred into Stormfly straightening Astrid’s hair, nudging her mentally into the safety of Stormfly’s presence. It was comforting, pushing away her concerns over her skin color and other changes. Stormfly chittered encouragingly as she took more control of their consciousness and allowed Astrid to relax and push away from her burdens.

Feeling herself slip further into a semi-consciousness, Astrid watched through her window as her skin became a stronger tone sky blue than before. The realization was like a wave of ice water through her consciousness; Stormfly was starting to change into her dragon body igniting Astrid’s fear of losing herself. Astrid thought quickly over what she could do and chose the one option that worked before.

‘Stormfly… please, don’t change. I… I’m s… Look, blue skin and gold eyes are not normal for humans. I just need some time to adjust. Plus if we change how are we going to get you that, huh?”

Astrid grinned as Stormfly relaxed her will and settled back down. She nearly lost control. If not for Stormfly’s action, she may have surrendered to her panic. Sighing, Astrid pulled the cloak back around her body and prepared herself to find what else was different.

Stormfly caressed Astrid’s hair and breathed soothing coos. Astrid let the tension in shoulders release.

“Stormfly…”

Astrid’s cheeks warmed in embarrassment and welcomed the feel of Stormfly curling around her consciousness. Stormfly’s tail gently pushed her against the dragon’s warm abdomen, giving support emotionally and mentally. She had forgotten the one entity that would never abandon her. She would not face these alterations alone.

Astrid saw the window shutters were closed and the door to the building was closed. She could hear Merida’s soft footfalls in sync with the cloth rustling gently across the wooden floor in the back room. Tentatively Astrid opened up Hiccup’s borrowed cloak and warily examined her new body.

She started from the top and worked her way down. Her once silvery blonde hair was now a darker golden hue, windblown from her flight with Hiccup. Her face remained unchanged in the few minutes since she last looked.

She cocked her head slightly to the right. She felt Stormfly do the same.

Darker hair tone, bluish skin and new eyes. What else?

Glancing below her waist, then her legs, arms and then at each armpit she confirmed that she was indeed hairless below her neck. Her breasts remained unchanged as well. The muscle definition was even better in the mirror. Astrid gave herself an approving smile, appreciating the physical display of her strength.

So I don’t need a breast wrap, but I’m not going to walk around for perverts to ogle. I’ll figure something out.

Astrid pulled the cloak to the side, turned and admired her backside. The muscles in her back were more pronounced and her ass firmed up as well. Unable to help herself, she ran an appreciative hand down her hip. This was what she had envisioned she should look like with all the work she put into staying in battle shape. She now had a body that projected her years of dedication to training and fighting. Regardless of how much she drilled with her fellow guardsmen, there would always be that one pigheaded ass that doubted her skills simply because she had slight curves.

Running her hand back up her side, Astrid paused, as the tips of fingers lingered over tiny, almost imperceptible ridges. She moved closer to the mirror. They made an uneven circular shape, hidden by the dark shadow of the cloak against the firelight. As she ran her hands over her skin, she looked closer. She had scales.

“Huh, wonder if they give me a little more protection.”

Stormfly sent a thought of similar curiosity and together they decided to find a safe way to test the theory out.

Grabbing a log near the fireplace, Astrid tossed it onto the fire and watched the flames slowly crawl over the new fuel like a thousand tiny demons eager for the new meal.

She turned away from the fire as she heard Merida’s footsteps move closer to the door connecting the two rooms.

“Sorry abou’ tha’. Had ta make a few alterations. Had more than a few larger lycanthropes the las’ few rescues.”

Merida walked over to Astrid, a pair of pants, a long-sleeved tunic and a few pairs of boots in her arms.

“Now let’s see how these fit.” She handed the pants and tunic over.

Eschewing modesty, Astrid let the cloak fall open and pulled on the pants. They were a little loose-fitting, but had a cord running around the waist to adjust the fit. The color was a dull gray and made from a sturdy, if coarse wool. They scratched against her bare legs, but it wasn’t unbearable. Tightening them up, she unclasped the cloak and started pulling on the tunic made from the same material.

“My, my. Ah guess you take training seriously.” Merida playfully commented.

Astrid felt her face heat up and quickly jerked her tunic down. The comment was too close to what every jackass in the guard would say when she changed or was seen without her uniform on. She glared at the woman, and found her giving a friendly smile.

“Ah mean’ nothing ta offend, jus’ acknowledging yer efforts.” She handed over three pairs of soft leather boots. “Ah hope one of those works, otherwise you’ll be goin barefoot.”

It was the first time Astrid could remember someone recognizing her efforts without having their ass put in the dirt first. Mentally sighing, she chose to let the comments go.

Astrid took the boots and placed them in turn at the bottom of her foot. She found the second pair to be the closest fit and pulled them on. She looked at the mirror and figured the clothes would work until she found a way to get more. How would she get more clothes? She was without money and honestly had not a stitch to her name. It was all back in her hom… it was all gone. No money, no clothes, no axe. Astrid wiped her hands on her new pants. The room was growing warming, closer, making it hard to get a good breath of air. She was losing control of so many simple things in her life all from one night, last night. There was one way of gaining control of little things, but that took money. Astrid cleared her throat, find enough air to speak.

“I don’t suppose there’s a way to earn a living around here? I...when I…”

Merida’s hand on her shoulder dragged her thoughts back to the present.

“It’s alrigh’. Yer no’ the firs’ soul we’ve helped back ta their feet.” Her voice was reassuring, motherly. It didn’t quite fit the fire she saw in Merida’s ocean blue eyes, yet it did. Astrid was reminded of a mother protecting her child from perceived harm. It was a bit confusing; She was a stranger to Merida and yet she suspected the woman was ready to fight for her safety. She smiled and nodded at Merida, silently accepting the help offered.

“Have ye had anything ta eat since yer first time?”

“No.”

“Och, daft boy. Probably forgo’ his damn bag again! Let’s ge’ ye to tha great hall before ye fall over!” Merida gave her a warm smile and wrapped the cloak over her again. Astrid breathed in worn leather, fresh pine needles, rain, and an undercurrent of smoke permeating the cloak without a second thought and felt a strange comfort in it. She hummed softly.

“He does smell good.”

Astrid froze. Slowly peeking up, she saw Merida giving her a knowing look. She hadn’t been that blatant, had she?

Merida chuckled and pulled her out of the hut. “Come on, ye can day dream over a hot meal.”

Astrid fell into step next to her guide, disturbed by her budding infatuation. She knew it had something to do with her joining with Stormfly, even if the Nadder had voiced her opinion stating otherwise. Perhaps it was the fact he helped her as she changed. He didn’t fear what she was becoming, there was no hate, only concern. He was concerned about her. Astrid’s cheeks grew warm with the realization. She recalled his evergreen eyes stared into hers, drawing her into the eye of her inner storm. His teeth were slightly crooked, his auburn hair was shaggy and hung just above his shoulders. Astrid remembered looking up at Hiccup when she had been brought to the village, so he was taller than her. He was lithe with lean muscles, and the definition was pleasing to Astrid’s eye.

Astrid shook her head and took in her surroundings. They had passed a couple of homes in the village and were making their way past more. Each one was similar, a strong door and a glass window on the front, and a stone and mortar chimney coming out of the middle of the homes.

Astrid blinked and looked back at the houses. That’s a glass window. On each home. How can they afford that? It cost me half my monthly wages for a pair of glass jars and they weren’t even that well made. Those windows look high quality. Is everyone rich here?

The road was mostly dirt, but as they walked closer to the great hall the road became paved with cobblestones. She had heard of larger towns doing this, cut back on issues of impassable roads due to mud, but it was expensive. This is ridiculously expensive! How are they able to afford this, or the very least how can Hiccup afford this if he’s in charge here? Is he taxing these villagers into poverty? It doesn’t look like that, I should ask Hiccup the next time I see him, or Merida might know.

Lost in her thoughts again, Astrid hadn’t noticed she was being guided into a seat until her ass hit solid wood.

Casting her eyes about she found herself in one of the two large buildings she saw in the air. Taking a moment she looked around the inside of the structure. Looking to the right was a solid wall with columns spaced evenly down the length. Between the columns the free space was filled with tables and chairs for villagers to eat, drink, and whatever else they would need. The ceiling arch up, making the center space feel cavernous as she looked up. More tables and benches filled in the rest of the hall all the way to the other wall where matching columns stood. At either end of the hall was a large window allowing in natural light. More glass. The wood along the walls was dark and well cared for as she saw minimal scarring and rot. There wasn’t any decorations or carvings along the walls, they were bare. This should be the center of their meetings and celebrations. Why is it so basic?

Several tables were pushed together end to end, with a growing number of people were finding seats with their breakfast. Astrid found a few couples eating together and more single individuals taking the nearest empty seat. They were mostly close to her age, perhaps few younger and one or two that were clearly older than her. They ranged in body build from slim to slovenly, and the animal characteristics were as varied. The hall could easily be mistaken for the one she grew up eating in, save for there was no children.

Before Astrid could voice her observation, Stormfly chittered excitedly. Astrid turned her attention to the dragon and had her sense of smell assaulted with the aromas and scents of the mead hall.

“Seems tha cooks have porridge, bread, honey, fish, and chicken available this mornin’. Wha’ would ye like, Astrid?”

“Chicken!” The excitement was not hers alone, Stormfly was practically drooling.

Merida snorted. “Chicken it is.”

Soon enough Astrid found three steaming roasted chickens, each one slightly charred and dripping out their inner juices. Behind them was a fresh loaf of hot white bread, the aroma slightly sweet and welcoming. A jar of honey, and a pitcher of watered wine rounded out Astrid’s immediate breakfast selection. Stormfly was crowing, and doing her version of a happy dance throughout Astrid’s being.

Astrid watched her right hand grab the nearest drumstick and ripped it free. The meat was hot, tender and juicy and tore easily between her teeth. She found it savory, the juices coating over the entirety her tongue and running down her face, eliciting a new spike of flavor as she chewed. When she finally found the will to swallow and be parted from the joy that one bite offered, it slid down her throat like velvet. Each bite a reward. Different and the same. Stormfly crowed and eagerly grabbed the next available piece of chicken to continue the journey of devouring what had been promised and delivered.

Merida calmly ate her porridge with berries and honey, occasionally checking on her newly acquired charge, ensuring she didn’t choke on the food she was inhaling. She couldn’t help but smile at the gusto the blonde was exhibiting in consuming her meal.

Astrid breathed out in contentment. That was the best chicken she had eaten, ever. Half of the bread and honey were gone. She didn’t even remember eating those. Pausing, Astrid looked down at the scraps in front of her in dismay. Was this another side-effect of her new body? Eating enough for eight men or was this because Stormfly loved chicken just that much?

“Ah will never grow tired of tha’ look righ’ there.”

Astrid looked at Merida’s grin, she seemed to make Merida smile a lot with her actions.

“Donnae worry. Yer body will adjus’ ta the requirements. Tha firs’ time takes a lot out of ya. Yer whole body was transformed, it takes a lot of energy.”

Merida reached across the table and patted Astrid’s hand.

“Before we find ye a bed, mind if ah ask a few questions?”

“Only if I can ask some in return.”

“O’ course!” Merida beamed and pushed her bowl to the side. “Now firs’ things firs’, wha’ is yer soul creature?”

Astrid furrowed her brow, “Soul creature?”

“It’s wha’ some of us call the beast living inside with you now.”

“Oh. Mine is a dragon, a Deadly Nadder”

“Tha’ is something special there! Only one otha in the village tha’ has a dragon and ye already met him.” Merida gave a wink and Astrid couldn’t fight back the mild warming of her cheeks. Merida motioned for Astrid to ask one of her many questions.

“I saw the paw earlier, what is your soul creature?”

“A bear, big one. Her name is Elinor.” Astrid wasn’t positive, it passed quickly, but Merida looked slightly ashamed.

“Aside from ye pretty eyes, any other permanent changes ye noticed?”

Pulling up her left sleeve, Astrid showed Merida the pattern on her skin. “Scales. I’m not sure if it just the shape, or if they provide extra protection, but they also have given me a slightly blue coloring. My hair is slightly darker on my head, and I don’t have any hair below my neck anymore.”

Why was she opening up to this stranger like an old friend? She knew better, yet she did not feel guarded about her openness. It was like she did not know to be wary, and judge each statement and action. She felt nothing. She should be reserved, pulling out information at every opportunity and using it to keep herself safe. She was acting against her best interests, time and again. It was disorienting as she argued internally for caution and she refused to listen to herself.

“Ye mind if ah touch them? Ah only ever fel’ Hiccup’s and tha’s when he’s transformed.”

Astrid bit her tongue to prevent herself from replying without thinking. Staring at the woman across from her, Astrid could not explain why, she only knew she could trust that Merida wasn’t trying to harm her.

“Go ahead.”

Her fingers were calloused, her touch was comforting. Astrid saw a growing chasm of ignorance in her mind. She went with whatever was told to her five minutes after turning into a dragon then back human. It was easier to then to just accept what was being told and not dig deeper for understanding. That was then and this is now, she could ask questions and get answers.

“Merida.” Looking back to her eyes, Astrid pressed on, “Why should I trust you? Why are you treating me like I am harmless? You don’t know me, I don’t know you but every instinct is telling me you won’t harm me. That’s not normal. What is going on with me?”

That was way more open and blunt than she had intended. Shit.

For probably the first time today, Merida didn’t smile instead she searched Astrid’s eyes for something. She flicked her eyes from Astrid’s left to right eye, piercing each with simple curiosity at first. Astrid leaned back involuntarily when Merida’s eyes pressed down on her with an intensity she hadn’t experienced since her first day of guard training.

“When ye look at meh, wha’ does yer dragon tell you?”

Gathering her wits, Astrid took a breath. She looked at the woman before closing her eyes and seeking out Stormfly. She found the dragon laying on a grassy knoll, snoozing after the small feast of chicken. Astrid smiled fondly as reached down and stroked Stormfly’s snout. “Hey girl, I need a second opinion about our hostess. Care to help me out?” Stormfly blinked before pressing her snout in Astrid’s hand. Together they turned their eyes to Merida.

Fiery red hair, organized chaos and curly. Her milky white skin covered in freckles from her face to any exposed skin. Her blue eyes, where people held their secrets. Deeper and deeper Astrid and Stormfly went seeking out something, anything to give them a clue Merida’s true nature.

Stormfly found the answer first. She conveyed respect, goodwill, fighting spirit, an equal. The last thought confused Astrid. Stormfly found Merida to be equal to them? A bear equal to a dragon? Astrid scoffed mentally and Stormfly chided her. One final set of thoughts came across, mother and mate.

“Wha…” Astrid was thrown for a loop with the last assessment from Stormfly.

“Wha’ did yer dragon see?”

“Stormfly didn’t see anything bad. She respects you as an equal. I don’t know what to make of that.” There she went saying more than she should.

Merida nodded as she considered Astrid’s words, “More or less tha same ah got from our initial thoughts on ye.” Taking a small sip, Merida continued “Ta answer yer las’ question, what’s goin on in ya is ye have a second opinion guiding yer choices. It’ll take time ta separate yer thoughts from, Stormfly?” Astrid nodded “From Stormfly’s thoughts. Ah found our soul creature’s usually have good instincts abou’ people we meet.”

Astrid tore a hunk off the remaining loaf of bread. She slathered a healthy portion of honey on it before taking a bite. Mulling over her thoughts as she chewed.

“Wha’ did ye do in yer ol’ home?”

Astrid swallowed and downed some of her watered wine, “Town guard. Part of the scouts.”

“Did ye leave any family or loved ones behind?”

“No, family is all dead and wasn’t really one to make close friends.”

Merida hummed at that and waited for Astrid to ask a question.

Astrid was given more time to consider her next words as group of villagers stopped by and greeted Merida. Astrid watched as Merida acknowledged each in turn, offering a warm hello or quick question about their family or work. That would drive me insane, it already kinda is and I’m not even talking to them. Astrid shook her head and took another sip of wine. She choked as the last person left with a request for Merida to tell Hiccup hello.

Merida looked over at her with mild concern, “Are ye alrigh’?”

Astrid nodded. Well that solved what she would ask next.

“Is it normal for…” gods was she blushing again?!

“Normal fer wha’?”

“Normal to have… attractions… that wouldn’t have been there before the change?”

She was going to kill Merida if she didn’t get that damn look off her face. Like a cat teasing its favorite toy.

“Anyone specific?”

Astrid was convinced her glare would have set anyone else on fire.

“Ah hope ye’ll forgive meh teasin! Yer the firs’ rescue we’ve ha’ in abou’ two months.” Merida held her hands up in a placating motion.

Astrid pursed her lips and ripped off another bite of bread. Stormfly was suspiciously observant, not giving an opinion one way or the other.

Merida seemed content with Astrid’s silence and gave a smile Astrid saw mother’s give a child when they explained something difficult or abstract. Her motherly smile didn’t fade as she spoke.

“That’s hard ta sae, Astrid. Ah’ll do meh best though.”

Merida paused to refill her cup and take another drink. Astrid figured she was gathering her thoughts to explain an obviously difficult topic. At that she allowed herself a sense of accomplishment. Finally asking the right questions.

Merida looked around as the hall began to fill and the ambient noise of conversations made casual conversation difficult. Astrid watched her stand up, “Follow meh. We’ll go somewhere a bi’ less crowded.”

Astrid followed Merida out, dropping her dishes in a collecting bin by one of the columns supporting the hall. Walking slightly behind her, Astrid studied Merida and found she walked with a centered gait, never off balance. Her hostess clearly had some training. Astrid wagered Merida was far fitter than she let on.

The sun was two-finger widths above the horizon now and with it the rest of the village was out and about getting their day underway. Astrid noticed the curious glances and outright stares at her, and reverence directed at Merida. That was not something Astrid was prepared for and only broadened the questions she needed answered. Questions she should be asking first and not about her stupid emotions and hormones not staying in check!

They came up to the west watchtower. The tower was barely behind the town wall and stood about ten feet above the wall. The four legs of the tower had planks crisscrossed between them for support, and a ladder extended down from the opening. There was a half wall going around the tower and it had a roof to keep the elements off the guard’s head. This part of the village was mostly the homes Astrid saw earlier.

“Ah’ll keep an eye ou’ while ye feel yer belly! Go on! Ah won’t be taken no for an answer.” Merida called out, her tone jovial but with an edge of gravity to her words. The guard came down a ladder and took off her helmet.

“Okay Mam. I’ll go get breakfast, as long as you keep Gerard from crawling up my backside for it.” She was a small thing. Even with her armor, Astrid could tell there wasn’t much mass to the girl. Astrid was used to being the smaller guard but this girl made her look bulky in comparison.

Merida nodded and cupped the girl’s face with her right hand, gently stroking her cheek. “Don’ ye be skipping out on any meals, ye hear meh?” The girl blushed and gave a meek smile showing off her sharp fangs. “Yes mam.” She nodded to both women and headed off.

Astrid saw the motherly action and child like reaction between the two women. There was relief at not being the only one Merida treated in such a fashion, but a slight pang of jealousy. Astrid rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Come on, we’ll be able ta talk up here withou’ any prying ears or eyes.”

Astrid stepped up onto the tower platform with Merida. The wood at her feet was worn smooth from countless boots walking back and forth. The half walls were roughly hewn, the top of them smoother at varying points from guards leaning against them. She scanned through the crenulation, inhaling the scent of dew evaporating off the pines and firs. A veritable ocean of green with a smattering of orange and yellow of changed leaves interspersed greeted her vision. Even with her improved eyesight she couldn’t see through the thick evergreens that dominated the surroundings. She could easily forget she was standing at the edge of a village.

“Not tha wors’ thing ta see each mornin”

Astrid glanced at the woman beside her taking in the scenery as well.

“No. It truly isn’t. I guess this is something I’ll have to get used to.”

Merida turned to face Astrid as she replied, “Why would ye have ta get used ta it?”

Brushing the bangs out from her eyes, Astrid took in a deep breath, letting it out in a huff, “Because where else can I go?! I am a monster that will get killed if I show my face anywhere near my village! If I slip up and transform around the wrong person that will get me hunted or worse! I could hurt or kill someone without meaning to…”

A tear running down her cheek caused her to stop. “Then there’s this! I don’t understand why I am out of control with my emotions! My thoughts! Everything is spilling out of my mouth like a godsdamned greenhorn! I just. UUURRGGHHH!”

She slammed both of her fists into the wooden railing, the anger and confusion erupting beyond her control. The outburst, slamming her fists, spouting off, what the Hel?! She wasn’t fifteen anymore, she had better self-control than… this. She drew in ragged breaths and flinched when Merida’s hand touched her shoulder.

“Astrid. It’s okay. Ah’ve been exactly where yer at righ’ now.” Merida pushed lightly on Astrid’s shoulder, making the latter straighten up and look Merida in the eye. “Ye asked abou’ the infatuation ye normally wouldn’ have before tha change. It’s no’ unrelated ta yer other frustrations.”

Astrid watched Merida through blurry eyes. Tears leaving trails down her cheeks. She couldn’t be bothered to wipe them away, she was too tired. Tired of not having control. Tired of trying to understand. Just tired.

“It is hard ta put in words tha’ ye migh’ accept as more than a simple explanation. Basically yer mind and body is brand new. It looks tha same in some aspects and differen’ in others. Jus’ as ye have another mind workin’ along side yer’s, it’s no’ solely yer mind anymore. Nor is it yer soul creature’s either. Since yer bondin’ it is new, with traces of both yers and Stormfly’s… conditioning.”

Astrid was having a difficult time wrapping her mind the concept Merida was explaining. Her mental fatigue was taking a greater toll than she wanted to admit. She shook her head trying to chase the drowsiness fogging her mind. Why did her head feel heavier?

Merida continued, “All those years ye spent learning to temper yer emotions, desires, and curiosities is a...a lesson yer new mind has yet ta learn. Ah’m sure there will be things ye will do in yer dragon form tha will send Stormfly into fits tha ye don’ do righ even with her guiding ye.”

Merida flashed her motherly smile. “So yes yer transformation is partly ta blame fer yer blantan’ crush on Hiccup.”

Astrid balked, “I never…”

Merida chortled, snorting as she caught her breath. “Astrid, did ye know a bear’s sense of smell is it’s strongest attribute? When a creature finds someone they like, desire, or love, they put off a unique scent. Guess wha’ ye smell like at tha mention of him?”

Astrid sat down against the half wall and put her head in her hands, bracing her elbows on her knees. Embarrassment and frustration. That was why she needed to sit down, definitely not her legs feeling like she was too heavy to hold her up.

She missed Merida’s furrowed brow as the woman took in Astrid’s slumped form. “Tha same goes fer yer body. Its new too. So yer gonna have ta teach it no’ to react again. Although ah think it’s time we get ya ta bed.”

Astrid barely managed to look up through her eyelashes at the motherly concern in Merida’s eyes. Astrid managed to grunt in agreement but made no motion to stand. Merida reached down and lifted her up without any strain.

“How…”

“Come on lassie, give meh some credit. Ah did sae a big bear did ah no’?”

Holding Astrid bridal style, Merida jumped off the guard tower and landed soldily on the ground below. “Sorry fer the abrupt exit bu’ yer about ta pass out and ah wan’ ya ta see where yer stayin.”

Astrid blinked owlishly at the surprising redhead.

Merida set off at a brisk pace back to the center village, and asked a passing villager to man the watchtower till the guard returned.

Astrid found herself nodding off as she was carried. She forced her head to turn from one side of the road to the other. Taking in any landmarks that could help her navigate back to where she had been. The houses blurred together as none stood out from the other. They passed the Great Hall and she could hear the clanging of a hammer against metal growing closer.

“Ah ah, come on Astrid, wake up fer jus’ a minute.”

Merida gently shook Astrid awake. Merida stood in front of a hall with oversized doors pulled open to let in the cool morning air. Setting Astrid down, Merida took her hand and guided her into the building which turned out to be a community lodge. The building was slightly smaller than the Great Hall, an open floor allowed for multiple beds and sleeping rolls to be laid out in a passable order. Along the wall were cutouts with individual beds near windows on both the lower and upper floor. The fire pit in the middle of the hall contained a low burning fire and was lined with a variety of stones to keep the flames contained. Astrid tried to take in more, but her brain refused to cooperate.

“What… is this?”

“Where ya start gettin’ back on yer feet, by firs’ gettin’ off them.” Merida took her to an unoccupied cutout.

Merida helped lay Astrid down on the bed and pulled off her boots. Taking a blanket from a side cubby, Merida draped it over Astrid, pulling it under her chin.

“There will be more ta discuss after ye get some sleep. Jus’ find meh or Hiccup, okay?”

Exhausted, Astrid nodded. She didn’t even complain when Merida brushed her bangs behind her ear.

“Ah know it’ll take time fer it ta feel like one, bu’ Astrid, welcome ta yer new home.”

#httyd au #merricup #hiccstrid #hiccup #Merida #astrid #lycanthropy #stormfly

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larpgourmet · 5 years

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The Essential LARP Cooking Camp Gear List

Figuring out what to bring to game is always stress inducing. I have packing lists for my packing lists just to make sure I don’t miss anything (it doesn’t help that I drive four hours to get to my game. Forgetting something means I’m SOL all weekend, unless I feel like stopping by a Walmart to pickup whatever I left at home.)

If you’re a new LARPer, this can be doubly stressful. You may not even know where to begin to pack for what you need. I’m pretty focused on only food needs on this blog, but to sidetrack for just a moment -- my advice is always to break it down from a meta level first. By that I mean, start with the big picture stuff:

- Camping Gear (tent, sleeping bag, etc.) - Food and Drink - Costume - Weapons - Decorative - Mundane Needs (medicine, first aid kit, hygiene needs)

Once you have that list together, then you can start listing things by specific, and that’ll help you organize your head a little bit when things start to get crazy. Make a list on a word doc somewhere you can access it all the time, and keep the same list game after game, that way you have it on hand in case you run out of spell slots to think about it the Thursday night before you travel.

My list below will operate similarly, giving kind of a broad list, and then breaking it down, with only a few major items getting specific call-outs.

That said -- back to the food stuff!

If you want to cook at game, you’ll need a handful of things to make this possible. Listed below is a short list of what you’ll need, and what to look for in those items. Some of these were also referenced on the 20 Items under $20 post, found here (https://larpgourmet.tumblr.com/post/186401312414/20-things-under-20-for-eating-at-larp)

- A Decent Cooler Look for one that will easily fit in your car with the rest of your stuff, but has enough room to work with. Also be aware that you’re going to have to move your cooler in and out of your car -- while it’s full of stuff. Too big, and you risk it being exceptionally heavy.

I bought mine eons ago, but I want to say it’s somewhere in the 48 - 50 quart range. I generally want to be able to fit my cold brew coffee, a frozen gallon bottle of water, my food, at least half of my drinks, and my icepacks into the cooler easily.

I’ve said it before, but it’s worth repeating -- of all of the items to shell a little extra for, this is the one. Good insulation, a tight fitting lid, and well made handles will go a long way to ensuring your food stays cold, and you have a better time maneuvering it. Coolers are also just generally handy things to have around, even when you’re not LARPing, so there’s little chance this purchase will go to waste.

One side note on this -- I think wheels are a bit of a waste when it comes to coolers in a camping setting. The wheels do just about nothing over dirt and sticks, and are barely better than dragging the cooler on it’s edge -- at least in my experience.

- A Sturdy Table If no tables are readily available, OR those tables are wobbly -- pick up a good, sturdy table of your own, and be ready to throw a tablecloth over it. I like 6 foot hard plastic folding tables available at any hardware store. They are generally easy to pack and move, and give you plenty of room to work with.

Prepare to store your plastic bin of stuff, and your cooler underneath the table. The cooler being in the perpetual shade of the tablecloth, and the breeze of the outside means that your ice will melt a bit slower. I’ve managed July games in over 100 degree heat in southern California without needing to make an ice run, just because my cooler is stored under a table with a good tablecloth.

- Camp Stove This is another topic I’ve covered in some detail on this post: https://larpgourmet.tumblr.com/post/186746785742/what-to-look-for-in-a-camp-stove

Long and short -- though there’s many ways to heat up food at game, including campfires and the hope of a decent kitchen on site, I feel like Camp Stoves are the old reliable. They’re safe (you’re not likely to accidentally start a forest fire), easy to use and keep with you, and if you have your own, you’re not waiting in line to use it -- so you can just heat n’ eat at your leisure!

- A Trash Bin Get a collapsible trash container made for camping, and the appropriately sized trash bags. Invest in something big and flat that you can put over the trash bag to keep stuff out, or prepare to take it to a larger trash receptacle every so often.

- Dutch Oven If you’ve never looked at a dutch oven before, it’s basically a big soup pot with a good lid. Generally speaking, dutch ovens are thick walled and made of cast iron -- but for our purposes, any large pot with a decent lid will fit your needs.

I like these, especially if you plan to make any meals for a larger group. Big vats of soup or even cold salads can be served in a dutch oven, and automatically look more interesting as a result. The lid means you can close in your food to keep dust out, and even if you’re not using it to cook directly, you can fill it with water and cook sous vide style.

ProTip: If you get one big enough, you can fit a lot of your other gear inside of it, making it an excellent storage container for packing purposes as well.

- Frying Pan / Skillet / Griddle What we need is a large, flat surface to toast bread, pan fry food, or set stovetop coffee pots on top of to make sure they’re stable. A frying pan or skillet is probably best (as the walls give them a bit more utility -- but a griddle or flat top surface can be great in the long haul, if you don’t mind buying both options!

- Food Prep Items A cutting board, a good knife, bowls to collect items you’ve cut and prepared, and some bowls or covers to keep everything clean while you work. As with the below, this is really a situational need. If you plan to do any food prep actually at game, make sure you consider what you’ll need to bring!

- Servingware Wooden bowls, spoons, charcuterie boards, and other things are great to lay out your food for eating. You only really need these if you plan on serving multiple people, and will need to leave the food somewhere that photographers might find it. Honestly, source as much of this out of thrift stores as you can, big wooden bowls and big wooden spoons are silly cheap there. You can also get some fairly inexpensive slabs of marble and other easy to keep and clean stone from any home improvement store -- more on that in a future post!

- Flatware / Dishes You will want something to eat your food out of that looks good for the photographers! The 20 Items under $20 has a few links for things to look for on this front, but expect to need at least one of each of the basics -- a cup, bowl, plate, fork, knife, and spoon. I’ve tested my way through a lot of the disposables in this arena, and I find them to be both flimsy, and expensive. Set aside the scratch for one decent set that will last, and you’ll be much happier.

- Cleaning Station Here’s where I admit that I don’t do a full soap and water wash most of the time at game. I’m the only one who uses my own stuff, so most of the time I just wipe down my gear to get any food off, dry it, and wait to give it a good cleaning when I get home. Most of my cooking for game is tailored to this idea, meaning that I generally make a lot of things where I won’t leave a lot of food behind, and if I do, it’s in a mason jar where I’m just going to seal the jar and not worry about it.

I also (currently) use real cast iron for my fork, knife, and spoon -- so getting them in soap and water is really just a great way for them to rust. (I’m thinking of switching over to stainless steel. Cast iron has a taste, and I’m not particularly fond... additionally, it’s a HUGE pain to keep care of, especially at game if someone decides to be nice and wash your stuff for you, so I’m just kind of over it.)

If you’re eating anything that will get sticky or sugary, or where you’re leaving a larger amount of food (not just sandwich crumbs), you will want a way to clean it so you don’t get pests. This set should consist of at least a couple of things; a smallish plastic bin for you to catch your soapy water, a sponge, some dish soap, a drying towel, and clean water to rinse your soap off your dishes.

If you’re a knitter at all, consider making knitted towels out of yarn tailor made to the purpose. Knitted towels will always look great, and they dry up a lot of water! They do just take a little longer to dry, so prepare a spot to hang them up with clothespins, if you can! (I’m not a knitter, but my mom makes me knitted stuff all the time.)

- Plastic Bin with a Good Lid The reason I advocate for this is to carry all of your camping gear in one place, and make sure it stays clean and pest free until you can use it. Get all your stuff first, then decide what size you need -- but one of these goes a long way toward good organization, and ease of moving your stuff!

- Sundries This can be any sort of smaller items that I just catch all into one category. My current list for this is: Matches Paper towels First aid kit Propane Camp lantern Apron (to keep your costume clean) Spare water Trivets (if you’re going to have any hot pans on site)

If you’re worried about forgetting something, set your setup up at home, and mock going through everything. Think about what you’ll need to do for all of your meals, and make sure you have everything you need to that end.

Plan for emergencies! Plan for spills, plan to get cut, or burned on your stove! Make sure everything you need is close by (in your plastic bin) when you’re actually on site, so you always know how to find your stuff if something comes up.

#LARP #Camping #Cooking #Preparation

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mordenheim · 5 years

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Dr. Mordenheim’s Travels, Book 1: De Writer’s Equestria, Ch. 1

Dr. Victor Mordenheim has traveled to many different realities in his many centuries of existence. This series, which I shall add to from time to time, will explore some of them, beginning with the world of @ask-de-writer.

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The tall, slender zebra staggered his way through the tangled undergrowth of the Everfree forest. Dead branches tangled in his mane, tugging his head back and even clawing at his eyepatch as he trudged onward, pausing occasionally to make sure he still had his saddlebags. He had been wandering for what seemed like days as the paths constantly shifted and changed direction as he traveled. Once in a while he would follow a seemingly straight path and end up passing the same tree several times. Other times he would take a sharply curving route that seemed to circle back on itself, only to end up in an entirely different location.

It was still mostly dark when he finally pulled himself free from the brambles and stumbled into a small clearing. The broken and crumbling remains of an old castle stood before him, however this particular castle was somewhat odd. From the rubble he could see that various different types and colors of stone were used to construct its walls and towers. Each tower also seemed to once have a different type of roof. A rounded spire on one, a flat top where he spied the rotting remains of an open wooden trap door. Prodding at the walls with a hoof, the remaining stone seemed solid and sturdy. Perhaps this would be a place he could fix up to stay for a while.

Around the front there was a short path that lead to a small building. It had perhaps been a guard house or a small barracks at one time. A few old, broken benches sat inside as well as various shelves and racks along the walls, all covered in dust and cobwebs. However, through the front he saw the most welcoming sight of all. No more than ten feet from the front door was an actual cobblestone road and the faint pink light of the rising sun on the horizon. He had finally found his way out of this forsaken forest.

He had followed the road to the east for a short way before he stopped, confused. He could see the outskirts of Ponyville up ahead, yet that town had ever only had a simple dirt road between it and the Everfree. When had they built such a fine road, he wondered to himself. As well as pondering just how long he actually had been lost in the wood. He was well aware that time passed strangely in the Everfree, and space itself seemed warped and broken.

Making sure his saddlebags were still secure and doing his best to get the worst of the burrs out of his fur he trotted into Ponyville proper. As he looked around he could see that quite a few things had changed while he had been lost. The buildings seemed different, more colorful and sturdier in build. The roads were solid and well-maintained and the trees and grasses trimmed and cared for. All of this, however, was quickly wiped from his mind as the scent of delicious cooking wafted past his nose, causing his empty stomach to clench painfully and give a low growl.

Trotting along the street, following his nose he soon came upon a smallish building with a sign out front sitting across from a well maintained park. “Caramel Treat’s Sweets” was a lovely little restaurant and certainly the source of the delicious aromas. He paused outside of the door for a moment. It was not yet full dawn and most eateries that he knew of only operated from dawn to dusk, or from lunch hour until late.

He was starting to draw a few stares from early risers as he waited until full dawn. He rolled his eye as several ponies opened their door to set about their of business, laid their eyes on him, and immediately slammed their doors, peeking through window shades. He rubbed at his eyepatch as he sighed, he was well used to this reaction by now. He only hoped that his patronage would be accepted at this little restaurant or who knows how long he would have to wait to eat. He might even have to brave the pink whirlwind that inhabits Sugarcube Corner. He shuddered at the thought.

He need not have worried, though. Just a few moments later the door opened wide and a young caramel colored mare with a blonde mane stepped into view. She started to speak but quickly changed her tune a bit when she spied a zebra the size of a Rom horse on her doorstep! “What a beautiful.. Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t know we had a customer already!”

Victor was pleasantly stunned by the warm response! He smiled, careful not to show his sharp teeth as he lowered himself into a graceful bow, “Good mornin’ to ye. I was just wondering if you were open yet for the day. I’ve been traveling a long distance and would like to rest my weary bones for a bit and purchase a meal.”

Caramel’s ear twitched a bit. The zebra’s voice was deep and rich, but that certainly was not a Zebrican accent. She smiled and nodded, trotting back into the restaurant, “Of course, of course, please, come right in!”

The huge zebra smiled and entered the restaurant, ducking his head as he entered more out of habit than anything. The inside was well-lit and high-ceilinged with several tables, chairs, a small bar, even pillows to sit on here and there. He trotted over to the bar so he would be a bit away from the windows and pulled over a soft pillow to rest upon. His old joints creaked as he lowered himself, grateful that he finally got a chance to relax.

Caramel trotted over with a glass of ice water and a menu. Setting the glass down, she placed the menu in his hooves. She sniffed at the air, seeming to be sniffing at her own cooking when an odd look crossed her face. She blinked once, then smiled knowingly at her huge guest, “Just let me know when you’re ready to order. I should be able to hear you just fine.” She leaned in with a soft whisper and mentioned, “If you need any items towards the back of the menu, just let me know, I’ll need to move you in case of other guests, but we will gladly help you here.”

Victor was a bit taken aback by the strange look, but the gentle smile afterwards seemed to reassure him. He blinked a bit, curious about what she meant by items towards the back, but he decided he would check the entire thing anyway. He had just about decided on a dish called clovertop scramble with vegetable fries and something called Rom black tea when he flipped to the back of the menu. His eyebrows raised as he saw the page filled with meat options. Fried or baked fish, roasted chicken, even bacon! He had to lift a napkin to his mouth to hide, and soak up the drool. Shaking his head, he looked up from the menu, wondering how she could have known.

Making up his mind, he decided it might be best to take it easy on his system after having not eaten for so long. He called out to her and placed his order. A clovertop scramble, a bit of dry toast instead of the fried vegetables, and a cup of Rom black tea sounded perfect. In mere minutes, she had brought out the delicious-smelling food and placed it before him. He thanked her and slowly tucked into his meal.

Every bite was wonderful. A slight bit of black pepper and a tang of salt gave the scramble an incredible flavor, every fluffy bite seeming to melt in his mouth. The toast, in spite of being dry as he requested, was crisp and flavorful, a perfect pairing to the scramble. The tea was unlike anything he had tasted before. Spicy and floral with a soft bit of warmth underlying everything. In spite of trying to take his time, it was mere moments before he was using the last corner of toast to wipe his plate clean.

He smiled contentedly, remarking how wonderful everything was as Caramel Treat trotted back over to the bar. He paid his fee and tipped a single golden bit. Caramel looked at the coins a little oddly as she hadn’t seen any quite like these before. They were real, the right weight and metals, but the imprints were odd to her. The copper coin had an image of a phoenix in repose, the silver a long, slender dragon or sea serpent curling around the edge, while the golden coin was the most interesting. Both front and back bore an intricate Celtic knot design around the edge. The front bore an image of two hooves grasping a heart topped by a crown while the rear bore the motto “Friendship, Loyalty, Love” struck into the soft metal.

He tilted his head to the side as he watched her studying the coins, “Is something wrong? Did I need to do some sort of money exchange before paying?”

Caramel shook her head, “No, there’s no problem. I’ve just never seen coins like this before.”

Victor nodded, “Ah, that explains it. They’re from my home country, Shireland. I’ve picked up other coins in my travels, but the majority of them are still from home. I have a question for you, though.”

She nodded as she got her explanation for the odd coins, but then it was her turn to be curious about his questions. He leaned in close, still smiling but this time feeling comfortable enough to let his oddly sharp, interlocking teeth show a bit as he whispered, “How could you tell I might be interested in the items in the back of your menu?”

She grinned in return, pointing a hoof up to a sign above the bar, central in the restaurant for every creature to see. On it were depicted the images of two large wolves with the text “If you have any problem with any customer of ours for any reason, be it race, kind, species, belief or any other reason at all, PLEASE LEAVE. We bite, HARD!”. She winked and said, “I think that’s a pretty good likeness of myself and Fangrin.”

Victor’s jaw almost hit the bar! To find not just one, but two creatures similar to himself was amazing! He smiled even more pleasantly and reached out to gently take her hoof, bowing his head once more. “Thank you so much for your hospitality. I will be sure to stop back very often, indeed. In the meantime, however. It’s been a very long time since I’ve visited ponyville and it seems a lot has changed over the years. Do you know of anyplace nearby where I might be able to get cleaned up and make myself a bit more presentable?”

Caramel smiled and nodded, shaking his hoof in return. “Sure, the Ponyville Day Spa is right down the road in the town square! Just tell Lotus Blossom and Aloe Vera that Caramel sent you and they’ll fix you right up and even give you a nice discount!”

Smiling brightly, he thanked the mare once more for her wonderful meal and her company before trotting out of the door. His spirits lifted, he held his head up high as he made his way towards the town square! Perhaps Ponyville had changed for the better after all!

#MLP #text #story #mordenheim #pony #ask-de-writer

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ask-de-writer · 5 years

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With explicit permission, I am importing the entire Dr. Mordenhiem’s Travels, Book 1, De Writer’s Equestria, Chapter 1

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DR. MORDENHEIM’S TRAVELS, BOOK 1:De Writer’s Equestria,Ch. 1

@Mordenheim

1918 words

Used with author's permission

Tumblr exemption: Blog holding users of Tumblr.com may reblog and post this work provided that the entire title and copyright block remains intact with all links included and is displayed at the head of the work.

Fan art, Fan Fiction, cosplay or other fan activity is actively encouraged.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

He tilted his head to the side as he watched her studying the coins, “Is something wrong? Did I need to do some sort of money exchange before paying?”

Caramel shook her head, “No, there’s no problem. I’ve just never seen coins like this before.”

NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

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#@mordenheim #MLP #Hosted Tales #ask-de-writer AU

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flamboyantly-incompetent · 6 years

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Neuron, Ch.7

Bucky x Named (Mutant) Reader

Warnings: swearing (all of my fics are going to have swearing I’m sorry), some general awkwardness, me trying to write a remotely romantic occurrence... good luck

Masterlist

Word count: 2960

Note: Gif isn’t mine, but it is beautiful. This series is getting big, and to be perfectly honest, it’ll keep getting bigger because I’m now attached to these people and their stories. So. In light of that I’ll hopefully be posting a master list and replacing the chapter links with a link to that master list shortly.

“You know, you don’t have to be a super soldier all the time.” You sat next to Bucky in the sand under the shade of a conveniently located arch. His sweat-drenched hair flopped against his equally sweaty face as he leaned his head haphazardly on the cool stone, laughing mirthlessly. “I’m serious, Bucky.”

“I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t the question.” Bucky gave you a side eye, his Adam’s apple bobbing ever so slightly. You sighed and continued, “All I’m saying is that you don’t have to be fine all the time.” When he didn’t respond you angled yourself towards him sitting cross-legged. “Please don’t shut me out.”

“And you?” His eyes met yours. He managed to hide himself impressively well, and in his face, you saw a sea of calm, but behind that, turbulence. “You walked right into a trap on purpose. You could have died.”

Now that you hadn’t considered. Of course, he was right; you could have. But you didn’t. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be bothered. It didn’t seem real. On top of that, you’d done the things you’d sworn you’d never do. Twice, three times if you counted that incident with the General as a separate occurrence, for one man. And by that you were bothered, or rather, bothered by how you were unbothered. You started to say, “I would do it for anyone,” except that was utter bullshit, there were maybe five people on that list. Bucky was one of them. Instead, you said, “I would do it again.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“You changed the subject.”

“I am a hundred and two years old. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“You are my friend. It is my job to worry about you.”

He looked away again. “Now you sound like Steve.”

You swatted his arm. The metal one. Ow. “That’s a low blow, Buck. But, for real though. You okay?”

“Yeah!” he said just a little too fast. He heard it too and sighed dramatically. “I’m okay now.” His head swiveled back around to you. “Thank you.” You hrked, in your head, thank God.

Reaching out, you put a hand over his metal one that rested on the ground between you and looked out towards the ocean; the steady rush of crashing waves settled your stomach. The arch sat too far from the water for any of the sea’s spray to reach you, but the air still smelled of it; salty and fresh. In your peripheral Bucky’s gaze flickered between you and your hands; they didn’t look so different since you still wore the suit.

“Denna,” he started.

“Denna!” said Steve from the suit’s comm. You liked it much better when Bucky said your name. “ETA in two minutes. Where are you? Is everyone okay?”

“You’re gonna want to land along the coast, because the coast is clear.” Tony groaned in the background. “We’ll meet you there. I’m fine, but Bucky probably needs some medical attention.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose. “I do not.”

“Yeah, yeah, tough guy. Let’s go,” you grumbled, getting to your feet and offering him a hand up. He seemed sturdy enough on his feet, still, he’d lost a fair amount of blood and you watched him closely. Under the sun again, you felt like a wet noodle, trudging along in the sand. “When’s the last time you ate something?”

“Dunno, day before last?”

“While we were in Pennsylvania?” The realization seemed strange, it felt like so much time had passed since then.

He massaged his neck with his right hand. “Yeah, guess so.” A low and distant hum built up around you, and soon the sand did the same. The jet landed, the hatch opened, and several distressed superheroes came flooding out. At least Peter was happy to see you.

Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder, “Glad to see you, Buck.”

Bucky replied, smiling, “You too. Looks like we both made it out in one piece.” A whisper of guilt made a pass over Steve’s face. Bucky continued, quieter, “I’m fine.”

“You look like a Stormtrooper!” Peter exclaimed, trotting up to you. You mirrored his excited grin.

“I feel like Captain Phasma.”

“What? You have a cape? Dude, that is awesome. Mr. Stark why don’t all your suits have capes?”

Tony quirked an eyebrow. “Kid, I’m not dignifying that with a response.” He surveyed the dirt marks on the cape in question, billowing around your legs dramatically. “You found the catch feature.”

Earnest, you nodded, “I did. It’s quite brilliant.”

“Well it was inspired by a friend of mine. But he’s not here, so thank you I will be taking the credit.” Wanda, Vision and Sam stopped behind Stark and Peter. Tony continued, “How’s it looking in there, Champ?” Everybody turned their attention to you. You were not prepared.

“Uh, well,” you looked up at the huge building. When you’d arrived you were blindfolded, so you hadn’t noticed how intimidating the facility was. “Honestly, I don’t know. Mostly everybody in there was unconscious when we, ah, made our exit,” you trailed off, gesturing up to the broken window. It stood quite high up off the ground, two stories at least.

Sam leaned towards Bucky and mumbled, “Do I want to know?” Bucky shook his head in response.

You continued, “That was about ten minutes ago. Strucker said something about a director coming today for, well, for us. But there are several prisoners in there we need to release before that happens.”

“I thought there were no prisoners with Hydra,” said Sam in a caricature voice, “Only order.”

You shook your head hesitantly, “They’re building an army of mutants.”

Wanda looked up sharply, “Again?”

“Yeah, but instead of making them, they’re ‘recruiting’ them. Pretending they’re some sort of special employee. Hydra’s going corporation.”

“Speaking of which,” said Bucky, “anybody know where the door is? What? I was unconscious.”

Your hands rose up defensively, “I was wearing a sack hat.”

Steve’s face twisted with confusion, “Why would you be… you let yourself be captured?” He crossed his arms angrily.

“Well, I didn’t exactly have a better plan, Steve. This place is a maze, can we get this done, please?”

“We are not done talking about this.” Swallowing that eye-roll tasted like swallowing a raw egg drenched in sriracha, but you held Steve’s gaze. After a long moment, he finally continued, “There’s an entrance on the West end, and there should be another farther along this wall. Tony and Sam, you two sweep the building through there,” he pointed to the smashed window, “Wanda, Vision, Peter, you three enter through the West, find the prisoners.” He turned to Bucky. “You wanna sit this out?”

Bucky scoffed, mouth set in an easy grin, “Hell no, my favorite shirt is still in there somewhere.” An inexplicable tension worked its way into your gut. Why did he always do this? Sure, he was a grown-ass man, he could make his own decisions. But for fuck’s sake.

Steve clapped his hands and the team dispersed, he and Bucky following the wall of the building.

Not knowing who to follow, you trotted after Bucky. “Wait,” you called to Steve, “does someone need to watch the General?”

He replied, “Not unless you want to,” eliciting a scowl and a groan from you. You followed closely at Bucky’s heels, feeling suddenly very much like a child. “How’s it looking in there, Sam?” he asked.

Sam’s response echoed between your comm and Steve’s, “Everybody up here’s still out, Cap.”

Steve advised caution; after all, they’d be more than a little agitated when they came to. Then, he asked the other group if they’d found the entrance.

“Yeah, yeah. We’re in,” Peter replied, “Man, you weren’t lying – this place is a maze!”

Finally, the three of you came upon a smallish, dark wooden door. Steve gestured, “Buck, if you would.”

With a breathy huff, Bucky planted a hard kick to the door, breaking it nearly in half. Damn.

Steve went in first, he had to duck.

“That’s my move, Barnes,” you said, trying to mask how impressed you were.

He smiled lightheartedly at you. “Hate to break it to you, doll, but that’s always been my move,” he said before following Steve into the building. This guy was gonna be the death of you, easy. The room you stepped into seemed to be some sort of training facility. The three of you fanned out.

Along the wall sat all sorts of things for run-of-the-mill training: punching bags, weights, a thick rope that hung from the ceiling swaying slightly. There were also some questionable, possibly training related items, namely a huge iron freezer and a still-warm bed of coals. But, thankfully, no people.

Steve came up behind you silently, making you jump a little when he whispered, “You’re worried about him.” This time, you couldn’t suppress the eye-roll. He continued, “You heard him, he’s fine. He’s survived worse than this.”

Unable to stop yourself, your voice swam with bitterness and guilt, “What skin of his isn’t bruised or burned is covered in blood, and he hasn’t eaten anything for two days. And, for the record, the only thing keeping me from putting his ass on the jet right now is the fact that I do, in fact, know that he can handle himself. You both still need to learn the difference between alive and fine.” God, you felt so dramatic, and ashamed for how possessive you sounded. Sure, you knew you were technically right, but did that give you the right to point it out?

Continuing along the wall, you came across a locker room in a small alcove. Inside, a gigantic first aid kit sat in a cage bolted to the wall.

“Hey Buck! C’mere a minute,” Steve called before ripping the cage from the wall and putting it into your arms. “Make it fast.” He clapped Bucky on the shoulder as they passed each other, you stood there helplessly trying to ignore Bucky’s quirked eyebrow.

“I don’t know what to do with this; I’m a software engineer not a nurse!”

Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Vision phased through the ceiling. You blinked a few times as he said, “Denna, we’ve found the prisoners but they’re refusing to speak to us. You may have more luck.” He took the kit from your hands and gestured for Bucky to sit down. Okay, good.

“Stairs?” you asked, backing away. Vision pointed and you ran for it. “Let’s go Steve, stairs this way.”

The spring reinforced feet on your suit let you run faster than you’d ever thought possible, and you kept pace with Steve easily. He took the stairs two at a time.

The staircase put you in one of the hallways that led to the other enormous window in the facility, this one looking out at the countryside. Finally getting your bearings, you led Steve to the wing with the holding cells.

Peter, relieved to see you, said, “No one will come out of their cells.”

Wanda, less relieved but not uncivil, cut in, “Maybe you can convince them that we’re not Hydra.” You and Steve shared an acknowledging look before he left you to handle the situation and continued on into the facility.

Nodding at Wanda, you decided to liberate Diego, Perla and Sharkbait first, assuming they were the ringleaders here. Their cell was already open, and when you looked in Diego threw his head back and clapped his hands together. “Denna Reese. When the screaming stopped, we feared the worst,” he said, “I assume your friend is still with us?”

You smiled, “Yeah, Diego, he’s… he’s alive.” He seemed to know exactly what you meant.

Sharkbait smiled sheepishly at you, “I couldn’t smell you, either of you. Then we heard the plane landing, and I thought we were being tested again.” Again?

“So that’s why everybody’s hiding from us. And we thought we were just scary,” you said, adopting a silly tone in an effort to make the boy smile. You were not disappointed as he giggled, not a bit nervous.

Perla, less sure, wrapped an arm around her young brother. “Then it is safe to assume this is not some Hydra trick?”

“It is absolutely not. You’re all free to go,” you gestured out into the hallway, “Could you tell the rest of these guys that?” The three siblings nodded and you moved aside to let them through, Diego first, then Perla.

As soon as he stepped out of the cell, Sharkbait stiffened. “Someone’s here. They’re really old,” he said, breathing deep, “They don’t belong here.”

You hesitated, “Well we do have two hundred-year-old men with us. It could be one of them.”

He gave you a cryptic look. “Be careful, Denna.” Diego shrugged at you before making his way to another holding cell, poking his head in. Perla held a hand out to you, which you shook eagerly, and then to Wanda. The two began a conversation, Sharkbait glued to Perla’s side, that you casually tuned out. A few people from each cell followed Diego out and allowed him to turn them over to Peter, who promptly smiled reassuringly and led them down the hall.

A loud crash echoed from the basement and Bucky swore, “What the hell?” Your stomach and heart collided. Dear God, what was going wrong this time? You didn’t give yourself a moment to think about it before you were sprinting back to where you’d left him and Vision.

Some loud, metallic clanging continued sporadically, getting louder as you got closer, until by the time you reached the alcove, panting, Bucky and Vision were both giggling hysterically. Bucky looked much better, the blood was gone and his other injuries appeared to be less angry. He held his metal arm in his right hand; the thing spasmed intermittently eliciting new rounds of giggles.

Flabbergasted, you asked, “What’s, what’s going on?”

Finally, Bucky managed to look at you. His face didn’t hold the buried anxiety you’d seen earlier, which set you at ease a bit. Still laughing, he explained, “Whatever electrical mumbo-jumbo Strucker did to me didn’t agree with it. Tried to take the damn thing off, nearly punched through the wall. Knocked over a bunch of shit and everything.”

You had never seen Vision laugh. It perplexed you. “The sound you made,” he said, making some sort of yelping thunk noise that sounded much like a robotic cat being sprayed with a hose, “Brilliant.”

“I’m glad you approve, Vision. Means a lot to me,” Bucky replied. You took a moment to breathe and leaned against the wall, closing your eyes and willing your heart rate to slow down. Really, you had to get a grip. It was one thing to be protective of a friend, and that’s exactly what Bucky was. A friend. But it was another to want to shield him as much as you did, to let yourself believe that he needed you. That’s what this was, right? You being overprotective? But that didn’t even come close to explaining the weightlessness you felt when he laughed, or the bubbling energy when he said your name like it was his own sentence.

When your eyes opened again, Bucky was staring at you, biting his bottom lip.

Goddammit. This was so not the right time to make a move.

Vision cleared his throat. “I think my work here is done.” You held Bucky’s gaze as Vision floated back up through the ceiling and, had you had the presence of mind, you would have wondered how it was possible.

Instead, you muttered, “Fucking hell.” This was going to happen; it had a mind of its own and there was no way you could stop it now. The distance between you closed in an instant to still managed to last far too long. In another instant, your right hand tangled in the hair at Bucky’s neck, your left hand gripped his shoulder, and your lips caught his desperately. A small gasp of surprise escaped him.

Oh. Right. You couldn’t just go around kissing people.

Face very flushed, you pulled back and put some distance back between you. Afraid to meet his gaze again, you folded your hands behind your back. “I’m sorry, that was probably uncalled for.”

“I’ll say,” he snorted, “If you’re gonna kiss a fella like that, at least let him put his arm down.” He approached you cautiously as you looked up, trying to grasp his meaning, and set his arm on top of a row of lockers. Immobilized by a hearty mix of fear, desire and embarrassment, there was no sound you could hear that you could focus on but his footsteps.

“I didn’t realize there was a protocol for this,” you croaked; it was hard to speak with him this close. He smelled like blood and sweat, and you didn’t have the presence of mind to wonder why that seemed good to you.

He nodded very seriously, “It is the general rule of thumb,” earning a nervous smile from you. He brushed a tangle of hair out of your face with his flesh hand. “Denna.” There it was again, jump starting your heart.

“Denna? Buck? Where’d you go?”

“God fucking dammit Steve, what do you want?” Bucky grumbled, resting his forehead on the locker behind you.

You shushed him gently and said into the comm, “We’re, ahem, we’re still on the ground floor. What’s going on?”

“I’m in Strucker’s office. You guys are gonna want to see this.” Bucky’s arm snaked around your waist.

“Roger that, Cap,” you squeaked. As soon as he switched off you burst out laughing. Bucky followed suit, grudgingly, his whole torso shaking. You just couldn’t catch a break.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barns x reader #au #I would knit Bucky a sweater of my tears #or my eyelashes #MCU #fanfiction #fluff #good grief #I love this man #but I suck at writing romance #i'm sorry

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averybritishsomething · 3 years

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Long moving update

Hi! I know I promised this, and obviously I’ve been online and caught up, but here is my fun moving story. And all my shit is in my new condo. as far as I know most of it survived in one piece. So if you don’t know me, and wanted a tldr there it is! Read more cause this got long as hell

SO! Monday night I stayed up till 2 am (tuesday morning I guess) finishing packing most of the shit. Mom was coming on Tuesday (and before I continue, I just need to say that she was actually massively helpful, and not judgmental about shit, and honestly, best help I've gotten from here in a LOOOONG ass time) and I wanted to look like I was totally ready. Because some of my college moves were a complete shit show, and mom witnessed all of those. I crashed around 2.30-3 ish, planning to sleep till 9.45. Nope. the doughnuts my relator sent over (which are stans doughnuts and delicious) arrived at 9.15 instead of 11. So I broke speed records for getting dressed in something and running out to get those. Mom made it about 11.30 and we were working on the last min shit (getting all the trash out, and loading everything in my fridge/freezer into coolers because who needs to buy all new condiments). We had finished packing all the shit by a bit after 1, and had moved onto sweeping where we could (around the boxes lol) and double checking cabinets. My movers said it would only take an hour to move all of my packed shit into their truck, drive it to the new place, and get it up in the elevator. They said they would be there between 1 and 2. so. I had elevator reservations at this building for 1-5. Any time I go over, I have to pay a fee. $50 a half hour. I told the movers this in the initial email. They never gave me a phone number, everything had been over email. At 1.30 I started to get nervous. at 2 I started to call every number I could find attached to them online. Finally I got a call back at 2.15. Their previous job had run over, and I was next. They would get to my place by 3.30. Welp. nothing I can do. I reiterated the time for the elevator. And for those unfamiliar with Chicago traffic, let me tell you, rush hour starts at about 4, and lasts until 8 ish. The drive between the two places is about 15 min in a speeding uber with no traffic, or 45 min stuck in all the traffic. Or something between. They brought an extra guy they didn’t charge me for, and got all my shit out in like 20 min. Which is just fucking impressive, because I had a daybed, mattress, 3 shelves with cubes in them, a desk, chair, tv, 4 rugs, 9 under bed bins, and about 40 moving boxes, and lived in a second story walk up.

So then mom and I ran over to the new place. Plan was, I run in, get the movers, do whatever I needed to do with security, got moms parking pass for later, while mom went back to the apartment to get the things we didn’t want the movers to move (there were like 4 smallish boxes, 2 backpacks, and the contents of the freezer that needed to be tossed into grocery bags. the boxes and backpacks were fragile and irreplaceable things, and the backpacks were legal docs, a few decent and sentimental pieces of jewelry, and my laptop), then, once mom was headed over, i’d head down, meet her in the circle drive out front, and we’d figure out parking.

lol

So, I run in, run back to the loading bay, and can’t find a security guard. Then the movers call and they can’t figure out how to get to the back of the building. So I go out back to try to give them directions. They finally show up (traffic was awful), and one guy goes, ‘show me where to go’. So he follows me. Still no guard by the loading bay, so I head to management office. A security guard is going in, so I go to follow him and he yells at me. OOOK. I decide to go to the front desk next. They tell me to go to management and point out I only have about 45 min (I FUCKING KNOW). I say I can’t get into the management office right now, this is time sensitive, where is the security guard by the back door. She radios someone and says they’re coming around the corner. Guard who yelled at me earlier comes around the corner. I ask him. He says hes looking for someone and not to bother him. oooook. I go back to the front desk. she now says they don’t have the move in info up there, can’t prove that i am who i say i am, and that I need to move. and to head back to management. Management is a 4 min leisurely stroll from the desk btw. So i’m heading back, when a different security guard rounds the corner, and asks if im the mover. well she asks the mover if we’re moving in, and i’m like ‘nope, i am, he’s carrying the shit, i’m paying’. and she starts in on complaining about how we’ve kept her waiting all day and she wants to go home. I apologize (but like also, I paid her to be there. not to sound entitled, but she was paid to do nothing but sit in an air conditioned office waiting for me to show up, and then to watch movers walk by. I’m sorry, but good grief, i also did not want to be running late). So then we try to take the elevators. the door to the freight elevator is locked for no fucking reason. my fob won’t work. she doesn't have a key. So i run back to the front desk, and she radios for mr friendly security guard to come back. He takes his sweeet ass time walking there, and we spend 5 min staring at the glass doors separating me from the service elevators. my mover is like ‘ i hope we’re refunded for this 15 min’ and i’m like ‘bitch i wish you’d showed up on time’ internally but just nod. SO then she’s like ‘you know you just have 15 min left. ‘ and i’m like ‘yes i am aware’. and she’s like ‘i have to tell management if you run over’ and i’m like ‘yes i know this too’. so it’s unlocked, I escort the movers to my room, unlock the door, and then fucking sprint back to management office (which I still haven’t made it into today) so I can pick up my parking pass for mom, before management office closes at 5. so the movers get my shit up in like 45 min, and then move it to the correct rooms. I pay them and tip them cause apparently you’re supposed to. and then I lay down and try to stop sweating for 5 seconds.

Then mom calls. She’s on her way, and got everything but one box in her car. So I head down to the lobby (meet a neighbor I share a wall with, he seems super nice, teaches piano, was giving a lesson while i was moving in, I couldn’t hear anything. i love these thick walls) and hop in moms car, and we go to figure out the garage. We finally figure out how to get in (this took a few min, the garage system is currently complicated as they’re in the middle of renovating) get down and discover that yes we have in and out privileges with this pass, but it’s still valet. all parking I can get for guests is valet. which is awkward but ok. We meet William, who is SUPER friendly, nicely explains how the garage works, lets us leave the car by the valet stand while we unload some things, lets me use the luggage cart, just is all around awesome. So we get the shit upstairs, unload the cold shit, and run back downstairs to drive to fucking ikea. We get there, figure out the closet thing I want is too big for my closet (sigh) and order the rest of the shit to be delivered here on the 11th. So that’s when I’ll have furniture again lol.

we go home and pass out. it’s 11, i’ve been running all day, this is deserved.

the next day we start unpacking. I'm dealing with my clothes, mom is doing the kitchen. I hear some ‘broken pottery pieces moving around noises’ and know i’m fucked. All my fucking plates except 3 are busted. They were sturdy old plates that looked like fiestaware I got at good will and have had for nearly 10 years. They're all still wrapped in my bubble wrap. Just fucking shattered. So. that’s something I need to deal with. So far they’re the only broken things we’ve found, but damn it’s going to be a pain to replace. So once the cable guy shows up 2 hours late, and finally gets that set up, mom and I run back to the apartment, grab the last box, and go to physically drop my keys off because my landlord sucks. We get stuck in traffic cause Western is shit again, and finally make the ‘20 min’ drive according to gps in about an hour. I drop them off, and we’re back at my condo. Mom and I unpack until she leaves in the evening and then I go to my room and get online and I haven’t unpacked shit since then. I’m going to after I type this out (and send a form to the office, and ask a polite question about how do I get amazon packages delivered to the package room because my smoke alarm does not work at all and the nice matience guy who discovered that yesterday let me off without a fine, cause he could see i’d literally just moved in, but I need to fix that). But like.... i’m actually in the room! and about half the boxes are unpacked!!! which is amazing!!!! so, it had some issues, but at least i’m fucking moved!

#Story of my Life

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ame-this · 4 years

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Building a Boom Case from an Old Box Spring, Part 1

So I bought a new bed frame a few months ago. It turns out that the particular style did not require a box spring. So I was stuck with an extra queen size box spring. I put it in my extra room to die.

My cars have done a real number on it. They have been using the fabric sides as a scratching and climbing post. They have been known to perch at the very top to nap. On a few occasions they have knocked it over. I got tired of seeing like this, so I looked into how to repurpose it (it was that or take it to the nearest dump 30 minutes away).

I cane across a few pictures but no instructions for making a shelf/book case. Without further ado, let's see what we can do with this obnoxious thing.

Part 1 - removing the fabric cover

You will need:

Box cutter (fresh blade please)

Utility gloves for safety (dont be like me plz)

A smallish but sturdy flat head screw driver

Need nose pliers

A broom and trash bag for clean up

Using the box cutter you need to cut away the fabric from the frame like so:

You want to cut where there is no wood underneath. This way you can cut all the way through the fabric and batting without leaving cuts in the soft wood frame. Please note, there are plactic peices in the corners on the i side and outside of the fabric. Do your best to pull these off as you go.

Do 3 sides first. You will want to save the bottom for last.

Now comes the hard part. Now you will have left the strip of fabric with the staples attached. Our goal is to remove the fabric strip and as much staples as possible. This is when you need to put on gloves.

The best way that I could figure out was to slide you fingers between the fabric and frame (in the gaps between the staples), use your foot to brace the bottom of the frame, and just pull like hell.

This should tear off the fabric and hopefully loosen some staples. Most of them will still be there with fabric and fuzz caught between them.

You will need to remove all fabric staples you can. Pick put the fuzzy using your fingers or pliers. Using the screwdriver head, pry off the staples as such.

You will probably want to cut the fabric strip as you pull away large sections.

Now comes the most tedious part, when you begin to question your life choices. You just destroyed a perfectly good peice of furniture, and now you are about to subject yourself to something repetitive and time consuming.

You will need to really get in there with some of them. Sometimes they come out cleanly and other times only one side comes out, so you gotta finish it off with the pliers.

If they simply won't budge you will need to tend to them later in Part 2. Dont hurt yourself trying to pull every single one out. And don't remove any structural staples either.

Once you have finished removing the staples on 3 sides, it's time to flip it.

This is a good time to point out that you can build this 2 ways. If you place it on its end, you will get a taller shelf with downward sloping shelves. Which could be good for movies and books. The down side is you would need extra wood trim to make a rim to keep the books from sliding off and your shelves will be at predetermined heights.

I am planning on putting decorative things on mine, so I am gonna build it on its side instead.

Finish cutting away the fabric like you did before. Pull off the remaining fabric strip and remove the last of the staples.

After a lot of work you are left with this bare frame. Be sure to sweep up all staples and discard all of the fluff and fabric.

As you can see, this will be an industrial-meets-farmhouse kinda look. This took me an hour and a half. My hands are little sore, but I managed to not get any punture wounds or splinters. So for now, I am done for the day.

#diy bookcase #repurposed #recylcing

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drferox · 7 years

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20 questions with Dr Ferox #3

It’s that time of the week again where I desperately try to churn through a chunk of questions in the vain hope of shrinking my inbox. I will attempt to tag you in your question, but you know what tumblr is like, however if you asked on Anonymous you’ll just have to scroll through to see f your question is here. There’s also a cool cat picture. In no particular order...

@a-floral-ghost asked: What is parvo? I know it's a disease(?) That puppies get but I don't actually know what it is

Parvo in this contest refers to canine parvovirus, a horrendous disease of dogs which is very persistent in the environment but generally well prevented by vaccination. You can read more about it here.

Anonymous asked: Do dogs need to be bathed? I live in a rural area so a lot of people here only give a dog a bath when it's gotten in to something? Is bathing frequently vs infrequently vs never a big issue?

Unless you are targeting a particular skin condition and using a medicated or therapeutic shampoo, most dogs don’t require a bath more than once a week, however many will go months or years without a bath with no problem. Grooming should still be done, because long coats can matt very easily and cause pain, but it’s not strictly necessary that every dog receive a regular bath.

Another Anonymous asked: Why do dogs shake/tap their feet when you scratch them in the right spot

Generally it’s a reflex. However if you already have itchy skin (often infected) and you start rubbing, you make the itch worse and the dog is compelled to scratch.

Yet another anonymous asked: We have an almost two year old female great dane (just over 1 year and 8 months) who is on the small side. She only weighs about 125 pounds and stands about 3 feet at the shoulder. She is my moms pride and joy but she refuses to get her spayed until she is 3 years old. I've read varying info about spaying giant breeds too early or too late. What is the general age a smallish Dane should be fixed? We have never had a giant breed before. Question tax, came for the stories, stayed for the knowlage

While I won’t give specific advice about any animal I cannot examine, at 3 years of age there will be no protective benefit for mammary cancer, though it will still prevent pyometra. Generally for a large, short-lived breed I would spay around skeletal maturity. There is a discussion here, and many of the reblogs are worth reading too.

@ happinessisnotalwaysfun said: It's ferret shed season! Ferrets don't cough up hairballs, and they can kill or cause big bills; but they still lick a lot due to discomfort. Ferretblr has lots of theory methods for helping - vaseline, pumpkin, raw egg, fish oil, ferretone - but no evidence. Is there a best way to help my catweasel digest fur safely? Any evidence, or suggestions?

I would generally use a feline laxative, but raw egg, fish oil and ferretone are probably not doing any harm. There’s not a lot written about this in ferret textbooks, but it does not get as cold down here so perhaps our ferrets are less fluffy. I would avoid vaseline because I generally avoid oil based products for animals, and I would avoid pumpkin because I don’t want to add that much fiber to the short gut of a possessed sock puppet ferret.

@taskmaking asked: I love your blog! I came here because of fantasy biology, stayed for everything else. I have a cockatiel who's pretty old (19ish) and he's flightless and blind apart from light/shadow. It's hard to get him to step up because he thinks your hand is attacking him. Is there anything I could do to make that easier on him?

Bird are not really my forte. Perhaps coupling the step up request with a sound or texture that he cal learn to associate with safety? Being blind is tough on a prey species.

@perryloveslamps said: Not sure what a question tax is but love your blog. So my Doberman/Rat Terrier has 7-9 small 2cm fat polyps that we've had examined by our vet as soon as we find a new one and they always turn out to be fatty lumps. Now this YT Channel I watch (VetRanch) removed a small lump the same size within days of finding it because the Vet "Doesn't like lumps on Boxers." Are different breeds more prone to fat polyps rather than cysts or tumors and visa versa? Thanks so much!

Boxers are colloquially known in the veterinary community as ‘cancer factories’. They just get cancer very easily and very young. In particular they often get Mast Cell Tumors, which are sneaky bastards that can look like anything, and can easily be mistaken for a benign cyst or lipoma. The paranoia is sometimes too much to bear, so it’s not unreasonable to remove every vaguely suspicious lump of a boxer when they’re on the younger side and still have a good heart.

Anonymous asked: if it were at all possible, would you ever treat or study coywolves?

Sure, possibly, if the opportunity presented itself. But they are on the other side of the world and I’d rather be involved in species closer to home, like our own dingo, bilbies, whale sharks, tassie devils or (if one dares to dream) resurrected thylacines.

Anonymous asked: What's your personal opinion on big poodles? Not from a vet point, just what do you think of them?

How very glad I am that you haven’t asked for a veterinary opinion when i have already answered that question.

Generally I think they’re treated a bit too much like toys and not allowed to be dogs by certain owners, particularly the smaller ones that are easier to carry everywhere. Which is a shame because there’s a real, proper dog under all that frou frou if you avoid turning it into a nervous wreck.

A presumably different Anonymous asked: i've wanted to be a vet since before i knew the word but it wasn't until a few years ago that i really fully grasped what it meant. i got into the aquarist hobby several years ago, and two moments really solidified my career choice. The first was when one of my fish fell ill and after a round of treatment, was entirely better. the second was when i tried everything i could think of to save a betta i had and it died anyways. it was horrible, i cried for hours, but i realized: i want this life.

Sorry about your little fish friends. I kept a lot of bettas when I was in high school, they’re certainly addictive and do have personality. For a while I considered moving somewhere tropical to save on heating costs so I could keep more.

Anonymous said: Me and my aunt both have maltese dogs, but they're very different. Ours is a very sturdy boy with thick legs and a body built vaguely like a lhasa, he's somewhere around 6kg. Hers has a very different structure, she is much smaller (around half his weight I think) and lankier, with a very long, thin muzzle. It actually kinda looks like the differences you'd see between the different Poodles, so I was wondering, are there different breeds of Maltese too, or could one of our pups be a mix?

I can only hazard a guess, but I suspect one or both dogs are probably a mix, and I would suspect the larger one. Lots of dogs that are small and fluffy enough just get sold as ‘maltese’ through pet stores because that’s popular.

@ sketchywyvern said: What is your favorite fur color/ pattern on cats?

While it’s hard to beat a bold mackerel tabby, I’m finding the karpati pattern particularly interesting lately.

@2goldensnitches said: Dr have you had to treat budgies before? Mine like it when I give them spinach, kale and clover to eat but are very picky about accepting pellets instead of seed, and they refuse to try fruit at all. I hope it doesn't mean that they'll get future health/dietary problems

It’s very rare for me to see a budgie in normal hours because there’s a clinic with a better bird set up nearby, and most people are unwilling to pay the after hours fee for a budgie. They are likely getting enough vitamins from the green leafy vegetables so I wouldn’t worry about the fruit, and as long as they are eating the pellets and not starving themselves I wouldn’t stress too much.

Anonymous (Anonymouse?) asked: Can pet mice get rabies vaccines? Even if they're of questionable origin, would it even be necessary?

It would be off label use and potentially ineffective. I don’t know of any documented mouse rabies infection that occurred naturally, though I understand it can occur in laboratory conditions. To catch rabies a mammal basically needs to be bitten by an infected animal and survive the bite. The odds of a mouse receiving a deep enough puncture wound and surviving long enough to catch rabies is fairly low.

@badgerface890 asked: Would tail docking fix a dog's problem with obsessive tail chasing? Or would the fixate on the stump or something else?

Depends why the dog is obsessively tail chasing, and I can’t comment specifically on an animal I cannot examine. They may fixate on the stump, they may not be chasing the tail, just running in circles, or there may be a painful neuroma in the tail causing the behavior. There may also be a brain abnormality responsible for the behavior, or a genuine obsessive disorder that would be better treated with medication.

Anonymous asked: I know your opinion about overbred dogs (e.g. pugs and apple-headed chihuahuas), but what about cats? Munchkin cats look incredibly cute, but I can't help but think they have to have some serious joint problems. Is feline selective breeding as problematic as it is with dogs, or it doesn't really affect their quality of life as much?

Anonymous friend, i would dearly like to refer you to the search function of this website. You can even search for munchkin cat to see if this has already been discussed.

Anonymous asked: Hello! I have recently gotten into the habit of feeding the crows that roost near my home ( they seem to thrive well on the dog food mixed with raw chicken egg and sides of fruit I give them) , and I was wondering if there was any advice you could give me to make sure I am feeding them good foods? Thank you!

I’m not sure which country you’re in, but Australian Ravens are the most common ‘crow’ here, and they are mostly carnivorous. Feeding dog food is probably not that bad a balance. Lots of people feed cheap beef mince which is too fatty and deficient in vitamins, causing nutrient deficiency in young birds. You can reduce this by using a low fat mince and mixing it with a insectivore bird rearing mix.

However, it’s generally inadvisable to feed wildlife as it makes them dependent on human support for survival and will change both their behavior and the local ecology. If you’re going to do it anyway I’d rather they be fed something that’s good for them, but question why you feel that wild animals need to be fed in the first place.

@reachyourlimit said: Have you ever encountered a dog with patches of ingrown hairs? My dog has 2 symmetrical patches ~2cm diameter on either side of her tail on her pelvis(?), they've been there for a long time, yet she doesn't care one bit about them. She's been to the vet for them, all she told us to do was keep them clean like I would for ingrown hairs on myself until they finally break the skin, but she'd never seen it before, she even took pictures to show other vets at the clinic later (question tax to come)

They’re reasonably common on the feet, between the toes, of prickly coated dogs like staffordshire bull terriers and shar peis. They can get infected and be uncomfortable, but sometimes don’t bother the dogs at all. It’s odd to have symmetrical patches in a place where the skin isn’t rubbed a lot. It might be dysplasia (which is pretty harmless) instead of ingrown hairs, but if they’re not malignant, not a symptom of metabolic disease and not bothering the dog then it’s of low concern.

@ seriouslyy asked: Do you have any child/puppy behavior resources? A friend's uncle just got a new puppy, and their 6 year old is loving the puppy, chasing her, carrying her around, feeding her treats, and the parents just keep saying "aww look the puppy loves her" when she is clearly stressed and just bit the child. The child is rather spoiled (personal opinion) and the parents are just so excited their daughter is happy, and won't listen to my friend. So i'm hoping outside sources would help them understand.

Hmm, there’s not really a website I tend to refer people to. I usually have handouts in the clinic. ABC’s Catalyst program had some decent videos about understanding dog behaviour that are easy to understand, and you might want to ask @why-animals-do-the-thing for a list of resources. The last think anyone wants is a kid getting bitten.

And finally another Anonymous asked: Do you enjoy running this blog? I was looking at some of your super old post and feel kind of bad that this was supposed to be an escape but kind of became your job.

I have spend a long time avoiding answering this question because I wasn’t totally sure of the answer. I enjoy some parts of this blog, the interesting questions and discussions it generates. I love it when something is drawn based on something I wrote, whether it’s a throwaway comment or a story or a fantasy biology creature.

But I don’t like being treated like a personal Google. I don’t mind clarifying an answer, or discussing a complex topic, but when a question could have very easily been answered b a single, quick Google search it just feel a little...disrespectful I guess. I spend a lot of time on this blog. I’m not keeping up with the questions I get already. I spend even more time in my jobs and I would really, really like to get back to more fiction writing in addition to all the other life stuff I’ve got going on, so it’s really difficult not to be snarky at some of these questions.

But I do like the community. I like what gets created. So I take the good along with the bad.

I adore my Patreon supporters, but this blog doesn’t pay anything like my real jobs. If it did then I could afford to work a few days less per month to write more.

#drferox #questions #long post #blog housekeeping

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