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tangledinink · 1 year

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Chapter Twelve of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is up!!! It's the moment you've all waited for-- the reveal. :000 They boys discover some things about themselves (things they once knew) and visit an unfamiliar place (a place that was once familiar.) Read it on ao3 or below the cut!

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The group’s shocked silence lasted for two, maybe three seconds before it quickly morphed into chaos.

“That’s him! That’s the goat!” Mikey shrieked, pointing wildly. “That’s the goat who has Dad!”

“Leo! Call 911!” Raph commanded. Leo scoffed loudly.

“No way! I wanna kick this guy’s ass. Make Donnie do it.”

“What?! No fair! I’ve called 911 the last six times! It’s someone else’s turn!”

“You have not! I called 911 last time!” April protested.

“That one doesn’t count!”

“Well someone’s gotta--”

“Enough!” Goatman snarled, absolutely bristling, waving his arm sharply. The air around them suddenly felt colder and stiller, and Leo shuddered, gritting his teeth as his posture stiffened. “I am not here to listen to your silly arguments. I am here to bring you home, so you can finally fulfill your purpose.”

Leo gave a short snort of laughter. “Hm, yeah, tempting, but our Daddy actually taught us not to go with creepy sheep strangers, even if they offer us free candy, soooo…”

“What?! Candy? No! I’m talking about your purpose! The reason you were created-- to eliminate the human threat! Come with me, and I can unlock your full potential!”

“How many divine purposes have we got again? ‘Cause I’m starting to lose track,” Mikey complained. Leo rolled his eyes.

“Eliminate the human threat? Yeah, uh, maybe you haven't been paying attention, but in case you haven’t noticed, we’re literally humans.”

The yokai paused for a moment. His face twisted, and he hunched his shoulders back before he gave a forced laugh. “Humans?” He echoed. “Humans?! Surely you aren’t fooled by those silly trinkets! You can’t possibly, actually believe…”

“Oh my god. This guy is, like, for real crazy,” April observed, raising her brows.

“No, you are fools!” He hissed in return. “Humans?! These ridiculous forms are completely fabricated! These are not your true selves! You are experiments! You are soldiers! You’re mutated turtles-- my greatest creations! The creations of Baron Draxum!”

“Baron Draxum? Okay, well, we’ll deal with him when he gets here… Oh… Oh-ho-ho wait! You’re doing that, like, sinister talking-about-yourself-in-third person thing, aren’t you! Oh my god, that’s rich!” Leo snorted.

“Hey! Only Raph can use the third-person!”

“I’m sorry, did he say turtles?” Mikey questioned.

“Oh my fucking god…” Leo laughed, clutching his stomach. “Turtles? I’m sorry, we’re mutant turtles?”

“This guy can’t be serious,” Raph muttered.

“Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure we would have noticed by now if we were reptiles,” Donnie scoffed, one hand on his hip. “Let alone subjects of some kind of biochemical experiments. Which I am intimately familiar with, by the way. Do you have any idea how many community gardens I’ve been banned from?”

“This can’t…” The yokai shook his head, a hand on his brow. “How could you be tricked by such simple magic? I will show you if I have to.”

“Oh, I’d love to see that,” Donnie muttered.

“Come with me--”

“You are out of your damn mind if you think we’re goin’ anywhere with you!” Raph cut in.

“Maybe if you prove that turtle hypothesis thing you have going on, we can discuss it from there,” Donnie laughed, one brow quirked, sounding caught somewhere between exasperated and amused. Honestly, this whole thing was a little bit fucking hilarious. It was also fucking horrible and scary because their dad was missing and a magic criminal had them cornered in an alley, but like. Seriously. Mutant turtles? You can’t make this stuff up, dude.

Draxum sighed very deeply, scowling at their group.

“Very well,” he said, and he snapped his fingers.

Things became unfunny very, very quickly.

If the air had become cold earlier, now it became startlingly hot, just for a moment, the alley rising up at least five degrees, and Leo heard this choked, startled gasp that he immediately recognized as his twin brother. At the same time, a blinding, almost familiar flash of white light overtook the alley, and Leo hissed, flinching away.

When he looked back, he was horrified to find that where his brother had been standing just a moment ago there was instead some sort of green, scaled creature, their eyes slitted and their skin leathery and bumped, and he thought, what the hell happened to my brother? And after a moment of silence, all of them staring in dazed shock, the reptile flailed, floundered, held its own hands up to its face as if to examine them, and promptly began screaming.

And Leo recognized his own brother's screams, so instead he was thinking: what the hell happened to my brother?!

“What did you do?!” Leo shrieked. Behind him, Mikey screamed, too, and he could hear April spluttering out an impressive string of curse words. He just barely resisted the urge to race over to Donnie’s side, to check if he was okay, (he’s not okay, he knows he’s not okay,) to try to help him, to fix it, because he couldn’t just turn his back on the enemy in front of them-- couldn’t ignore the very obvious threat.

“I simply removed the cloaking enchantment as he requested,” Draxum responded calmly. He even looked amused, almost, the very corners of his lips turning up.

“You what!? What the hell are you-- fix it!!! Turn him back!!!” Leo demanded, his voice rising with the very edges of panic, his pulse climbing ever-steadily higher the longer he listened to his siblings scream.

The other sighed deeply, tilting their head to the side. “Do you still not understand? Fine, then. I’ll show you as well.”

Snap.

Leo wouldn’t describe the experience as painful, but it really wasn’t pleasant, either. He swore he could feel his skin being stripped away and reforming; it was like his skeleton itself was being rearranged, his entire body becoming fluid for just a split second before solidifying again in new places, new patterns, new spaces. An unfamiliar weight pulled at his shoulders, forcing his spine to bend, and his hands and feet fell in a way that now felt unnatural to him. His skin seemed to lay over his muscles differently now.

He was vaguely aware of Mikey screaming somewhere behind him a second time, echoing Donatello’s continued wails.

“Guys?” April bit out, her voice high and frightened.

What the hell happened to him?

“What-- what did you do?” Leo repeated himself, his eyes wide, straining, because his vision was ever-so-slightly different than it had been a few seconds ago and he didn’t know how to adjust. He swore to god he was frozen in place. He wasn’t sure when he had ended up on his knees, but he was shaking so hard, he supposed he wasn’t surprised.

What the fuck happened to his body?

“Now are you convinced?” The yokai pressed. “Now, we will be going to my lab whether you want to or not. We can either do this the easy way or the hard way. I would highly recommend the easy way,” he hummed, giving a sharp sweep of his arms. Wind tugged at his back and Leo had just barely the presence of mind to glance behind him, his eyes widening in horror to see this huge expanse of black opening up behind him.

Mikey-- (Mikey? They were small, they were wearing Mikey’s clothes, it must be Mikey--) yelped loudly, the inky cloud yanking him from his feet. April jumped, attempting to grab her baby brother, though she only succeeded in falling into him-- both of them swallowed up into the portal. Raph gave a strangled howl of protest, diving right after them, and Donnie was sucked up as well, disappearing from Leo’s sight. His heart thudded wildly in his ears. He could feel the magick yanking at him, trying to pull him in as well.

But Leo had always been the fastest.

Every shred of him was screaming to follow, to chase after his family, to go with his sister and brothers, but he tensed his muscles, his stance widening and holding firm as he set his sights back on the yokai towering before him. A tiny voice in his head whispered in his ears that following wouldn’t help--

No, he had to move forward. This guy was the one hurting them.

Get him.

Leo wasn’t sure if he had leapt forward or if he simply was there. Everything was moving too quickly for even him to follow, the blinding white of panic and rage eating hungrily at the edges of his vision, threatening to overtake him. Either way, he lunged, a cry of protective fury wringing itself from his chest.

"Stay away from my brothers," he snarled, his own throat staggering painfully with the force with which he screamed out his warning, his hands flying forward to grab the yokai by his throat, slamming into him at full speed. He felt the alien velvet fuzz of Draxum’s skin beneath the tear of his fingernails (claws) even as the pair of them were flung from their feet. Gravity was stolen from them both, the portal behind them reaching out to consume them.

Everything went black. For just a second, tumbling through nothingness, floating through the sizzling rush of magick itself, Leo couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t hear anything, all he could feel was the body of the yokai against him, struggling against his grip, attempting to throw him away.

And then this bright, searing lavender light came singing through the world. It didn’t reflect or bounce; nothing was lit up by it. Leo still could not see himself, could not even find the outline of his own hands or fingers. But this brilliant, complex pattern of the palest, gentlest pastel purple lit up bright before him, swirling and twisting in foreign shapes, and Leo just barely recognized that the ribbon of runes they formed echoed the shape of the yokai he had just grabbed.

The body he was clinging to went limp.

The next second, the wind was knocked out of him as they made impact with stone, light coming streaming back into his universe. Leo found himself landing in a heap in their new location, the portal disappearing behind them. Oddly, however, the crash landing didn’t hurt near as much as he would have expected it to.

“Leo!” He heard Raph cry. Leo groaned, still dazed, looking around blearily. Where the hell were they? He glanced over at the yokai who he had yanked through the portal with them, only to find them in an awkward slump just a few paces away, completely limp and seemingly unconscious.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Raph demanded, moving quickly to his side. Mikey was already all bundled up in his arms, shaking like a leaf and absolutely clinging to him for dear life like he was going to fall apart if he let go. And Leo couldn’t even blame him if he did. Mikey had always been the smallest of them, and Raph always the biggest, but Leo thought dimly that the size difference between them now was fucking bananas.

Jesus christ. Raph was fucking huge. And… spiky. Was he a goddamn dinosaur? What the fuck.

“I-- yeah-- I-- I think the goatman got knocked out--” He stammered, still reeling slightly, trying to collect himself, to gather himself, adrenaline still rushing through his veins like it was a racetrack.

Somewhere in the background, Donnie fucking screamed, and Leo immediately forgot about everything else, his head whipping around.

“Donnie!” He cried, on his feet in a second, rushing over to his brother’s side. He had no idea where they were, not having yet taken stock of the location. He was only dimly aware that they were someplace cold and dark, with stone and concrete above, below, and around them. Donnie had pressed himself up against one of the walls, his entire body rigid and his head bent forward, his arms fluttering wildly beside his head in such a way that Leo recognized he was fighting not to hit himself. Good job, Dee. The screaming continued, but every wail that wrenched its way out of Donnie’s mouth was short and grinding, repeating itself over and over like an alarm. It was fucking terrifying. Not for him, but for Donnie, because he could tell that they were completely, totally not in control. Just panicking.

“Hey. Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m right here, Don. It’s alright. It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m right here, hermano,” he tried to soothe, forcing his voice down, calm, steady. He knew better than to touch Donnie, but he would reach over just long enough to tap a button on the side of his headphones that he knew would flip the device into white noise mode. Donnie jerked slightly in response, and the screaming stopped, at least, but he didn’t relax. His arms still fluttered and flapped anxiously, and he shifted just enough to begin rocking back and forth, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so hard that Leo was afraid he was going to hurt himself. His chest absolutely shook with the panicked, shuddering breaths he was taking, hyperventilating so hard that his entire body trembled in response.

“Come on, Donnie, it’s alright. It’s okay. We’re safe, Mikey and Raph and April are safe, we’re gonna be okay, but you’ve gotta breathe, dude. Can you try it with me? Like this? We’ve gotta calm down a little bit--” Leo pressed on because this was not his first rodeo. He wasn’t quite as adept at handling these things as their dad was, and at this point, Donnie was pretty good at avoiding meltdowns and panic attacks, armed with tools and tricks and years of therapy, but sometimes they were unavoidable and Leo had always known how to calm them down, always been able to step up and help, the same way Donnie could for him--

But Donnie wasn’t calming down. Donnie wouldn’t even look up at him. Rather, Donnie scrunched up harder, curled his lips, and fucking hissed at him.

And, okay, look, it wasn’t the first time Donnie had hissed at them. Donnie used to love to hiss at people when they were little kids, though nowadays he was more likely to express annoyance with declarations such as “groan” or “scoff” or “eye-roll.” But he didn’t hiss like this.

He sounded fucking feral. Even more than that, he sounded fucking terrified. He looked like a goddamn cornered animal, his eyes blown out and huge, the scaly skin that now made up his form stretched tight over shivering muscles and his lips drawn back over sharp, pointed teeth. And Leo looked down at his own clawed, three-fingered hand and came to a horrible realization.

He couldn’t help because Donnie couldn’t recognize him. They were panicking because they were in this crazy, fucked up body that wasn’t theirs, and Leo was in a fucked up body that wasn’t his, and looking at him was just a reminder of everything wrong. He was just scaring them more. His being here was just making things worse, and Leo’s throat tied itself in a knot, swelling up as the backs of his eyes pinched with the thought.

“April,” he called, his voice cracking slightly as he desperately turned to look for his sister. She wasn’t far off, watching from a short distance with obvious worry, and she blinked in surprise at the sound of her name.

“Help me.”

---

If Leo was being completely honest, he hadn’t even realized that Donnie wasn’t still nearby. The two of them typically stuck together like glue whenever they were at school. Leo would usually lead the way, and Donnie would trail after, with Leo doing most of the talking and socializing for both of them. And once Donnie got sick of whatever they were doing, he would simply drag Leo off to sit and read or work on some project or puzzle for a while, and Leo would oblige and keep him company. Donnie was always close by, and Leo wasn’t even aware that this wasn’t currently the case, too absorbed in his latest arts and crafts project, until he heard a telltale, high-pitched whine from across the room.

He was on his feet in seconds, abandoning the activity and his classmates to scuttle off in search of his twin brother. Luckily, he wasn’t too hard to find. Both because he was pretty loud, and also because their substitute teacher was crouched down next to him. She was nice enough, Leo thought, but not quite as cool as Miss Mitchelle was, and he wasn’t sure if Donnie liked her at all. It definitely didn’t seem like he liked her too much right now with how he was all balled up, and Leo wasted no time at all in planting himself physically between the two.

Donnie immediately gravitated towards his brother and Leo moved a bit closer in turn, giving Miss Substitute (he didn’t remember her name,) a very displeased look.

“He doesn’t like whatever you’re doing,” he declared firmly.

Miss Substitute’s expression twitched and faltered for a moment before it settled back into something patient and pleasant, though Leo still didn’t quite trust it. “Leo,” she said, “I was just trying to talk with your brother--”

“I can talk to him,” Leo assured immediately, not bothering to listen to the remainder of her sentence because he couldn’t imagine it would be all that important or interesting. He turned to face Donnie instead. “It’s okay. I can always understand him, ‘cause we have a secret twin language. We made it up. Only we can speak it,” he declared proudly, crouching down to lean in towards his brother, his arms wrapped around his knees.

Donnie was still whining a bit, curled up into a ball and shoved halfway inside of a cubby, his arms crossed protectively over his head as he rocked. And yeah, he was obviously upset, though Leo wasn’t completely sure why yet. As such, he got to work, conversing with his twin in the previously mentioned secret twin language.

… And.

Okay.

So.

They didn’t actually have a secret twin language.

But it was close enough! It wasn’t a language, per se, ‘cause it didn’t have words, just noises and chirps and trills and squeaks and babbles. But he still always got the gist of what Donnie was saying, and Donnie would get the gist of what he was saying, too, so it worked. Sooner or later, he could pretty much always get an understanding of what Donnie was meaning based on the inflection or tone of his noises, as well as calm the other down enough so that Leo could coax a couple of signs out of him, so Leo figured it was close enough to language.

Plus, the ‘language’ itself always seemed to kind of settle Donnie down when he was upset like this. Once Leo started humming and squeaking at him, Donnie gradually started to answer with his own chirps and clicks, and, little by little, Leo watched their twin’s body untense and unwind. Leo grinned, moving to sit properly by him, and Donnie moved closer, edging just a bit out of his hiding spot so he could shove himself up against Leo’s side instead, resting his head against his shoulder and settling in there, an indignant scowl still on his face.

Leo grinned, puffing out his chest a bit as he shot Miss Substitute a look. See? He told her so. He and Donnie always understood each other, no matter what, and he could always fix it when Donnie wasn’t feeling good! He was basically the best brother in the entire world. Confident that he understood the problem, he turned back to face Miss Substitute.

“He said you’re not doing the schedule right, and we’re supposed to do math right now,” he announced, crossing his arms over his chest. And he hadn’t even noticed, but Donnie was right, they did usually do math lessons during this part of the day-- not arts and crafts. “And also, he doesn’t like the paper fish we’re doing ‘cause the glue feels bad. So we gotta find something else to do,” he insisted. “‘Cause otherwise Donnie and I aren’t playing.”

Donnie nodded a tiny bit from behind him, and Leo beamed with pride. Understanding Donnie and calming him down wasn’t even that hard. He didn’t get why adults besides Dad had such a hard time with it sometimes. You really just had to listen to him.

---

It took a while for April to calm Donnie back down, (or at least get him as calm as they possibly could be in such circumstances,) but she managed after a bit, his panicked breaths eventually dying down into something a bit more even and steady. Thank god. Mikey thought dimly to himself that he had never seen Donnie freak out so bad, but... he supposed he couldn't really blame him.

He frowned a bit, looking down at his own, unfamiliar hands, and he curled up a bit more, his tail tucking in (oh my god, he had a tail,) as he clung to Raph's plastron (oh my god, Raph had a plastron.) And though it still held comfort, the fold of his biggest brother's arms, bundled up close and held there, this place that he had known his whole life... it suddenly felt foreign, too. Everything was hard and jagged and cold. And even worse-- it was unfamiliar.

He kept staring at his own hands because he couldn't stop himself, and it made his stomach wobble. He wondered bleakly what his own face looked like because he had no idea. He wouldn't even recognize himself in the mirror.

Now that Donnie had finally settled a bit, though he was still curled up and pressed just against April's side, just barely not touching but still squeezed up small against her, Leo finally got up to his feet-- only to immediately lose his balance, falling over onto his back with a loud clunk.

"Leo!" Raph's eyes widened, his muscles immediately bunching up, ready to jump up and go grab his brother. Mikey could tell that he was just barely resisting the urge to scoop up all three of them and bundle them up in his arms and just hang onto them for a while. He had been sitting here long enough for Mikey to notice how fast his heart was beating. Mikey’s was keeping pace. Leo kind of flailed for a second before he managed to redirect the momentum to roll over onto his side, getting himself back onto his hands and knees. A wry, strangled laugh forced its way out of him.

"Alright. Well. Pro tip: center of gravity is weird now," he remarked dryly, his voice strained. "But the good news is falling doesn't even hurt anymore! So that’s great!"

It didn't get a laugh out of anyone. After a moment of hesitation, Mikey slowly wriggled his way from Raph's grip, making his way over to Leo's side. He didn't dare try to walk after watching Leo's attempt, noting that it seemed to be more difficult now without the rush of adrenaline to aid them, so he instead stayed in a crouch, sort of half-hopping-half-crawling over. Raph followed shortly after in a similar manner.

"Can I see?" He questioned softly, and when Leo didn't deny him, he leaned over slightly, moving his hoodie (which was now a very awkward fit,) out of the way enough so that he could examine the edges of his brother's new shell.

(Oh my god. His brother's shell. What kind of a sentence was that? What kind of weird, fucked up make-believe world were they suddenly in? Leo was his brother. He didn't have a shell. He had cool brown skin. He had bouncy blonde curls that Mikey had helped him bleach and dye a red streak in. He had vitiligo 'stripes' over his eyes. He had a bad habit of cycling through boyfriends and insomnia and a shockingly large vocabulary... but he didn't have a shell. He didn't have scales or stripes or claws or a tail.)

He looked anyway, running the tips of his fingers over the top of it, following the curve. He couldn't quite tell if he was feeling the texture of the shell, or just the texture of his own fingers, which were different than they had been; covered in scales, the skin thicker and rougher than it had been before. Bending his joints felt odd, and he couldn't help himself from doing it over and over, as if that might help him get used to it faster.

Every part of his brother’s shell was this cool, ocean blue, just edging on teal in some places, and Mikey thought to himself that, in the very least, it matched his life color perfectly.

He swallowed hard and resisted the tears that were building up in his eyes. He didn’t want to cry right now. He didn’t even know what he was crying about. Because he was scared? Because he was overwhelmed? He wasn’t very good at not crying, but he forced it down, his hands trembling a bit with the effort of it.

"Does it look the same as mine?" He heard himself asking, his eyes flickering over to meet Leo's (which were now not something he recognized, looking more animal than person, though they still retained the same, familiar almond shape. The color, however, he realized, was slightly different. Leo's eyes were brown. All of their eyes were brown, so dark that they were almost black, but now, instead, Leo's eyes were mismatched; one of them dark blue, like water in a cove, like the sea at night, and the other dark red, like ink with blood, like black cherries.)

"I dunno," Leo laughed, though his voice was still shaking. "I don't know what mine looks like."

"They're... kinda the same…" Raph observed from nearby, leaning over slightly to examine them both. His voice sounded kind of hollow, like he wasn’t really there. Sort of far-off. "I mean. The parts I can see. Mikey, yours is more... orangey. And bumpier," he said. "And yours is spotty. Leo's is kinda... stripey."

"Yours is huge," Leo observed with a chuckle, glancing over at their biggest brother, who was always the tallest and largest by a wide margin, but now absolutely dwarfed the rest of them. "And... spiky. You're all spiky. And… and fucking huge, dude. You look like you have fucking paws. And your mouth is all..." He laughed again, scrubbing anxiously at his face with his hands. "You look like a fucking snapping turtle."

Mikey paused a bit at that, glancing over at the other.

Donnie must have said or signed something that the rest of them didn’t catch, because April spoke up next, clearly addressing him. "Uhm, no, yours is... uh. It's kind of flat? And..." There was a pause. "Oh, oh my god, it's, like, squishy!" She squealed, everyone else in the room jumping in response, before she tamped down the noise, biting her lip and getting a handle on her reaction. "Sorry! Sorry, I just. I just wasn't expecting that texture, that's all! It doesn't... feel like what I thought a shell would feel like, I guess."

"Are we different kinds of... turtles?" Mikey questioned, tilting his head to the side. He wanted to laugh at himself when he said turtles. I mean, seriously, turtles? Of all the creatures in the world, turtles? Why were they turtles?

"I guess we must be," Leo sighed, resting his chin on his knee. "We obviously look different."

Mikey frowned, and he thought that his lips might be trembling if he had proper lips anymore, but he wasn't sure if he did or if they could tremble or what that would feel like if they did. Okay, fine. Now there were a few tears.

"Does that mean we're not brothers?"

A beat of silence followed.

"We're not," Donnie said, and quite frankly, Mikey was surprised to hear him speaking. Small miracles? Kinda…?

"Yeah, we are. Don't be crazy," Raph immediately refuted, his brows (er... brows? Place where brows once were?) furrowing together, and Mikey was desperately relieved to see that the space in between still wrinkled into a crease the same way they always did. "Of course we're brothers."

"Evidently, we're not even the same species," Donnie hissed out bitterly, drawing himself up even closer, even smaller, into a little ball. "It's literally impossible."

"Come on, Dee--"

"We're not even human!" Donnie snapped, hunching up his shoulders. "We're not even people!"

"Hey, look, come on you guys," April tried to soothe, holding up her hands as if to calm the group. "It doesn't matter if you're turtles! It doesn't matter to me. I love you guys no matter what--"

"Oh, wow, what a comfort!" Donnie scoffed, and April bristled.

"Okay, look, I am trying to be helpful! I know that this fucking sucks but you do not need to take out your nasty attitude on me!"

Leo suddenly laughed-- loudly, painfully-- tilting his head back and letting his shoulders slump so he could stare up at the ceiling. "Oh my god. Jesus christ. We're not people," he bit out in between his barely restrained hysterics, squeezing his eyes shut. "We're freaks, dude!"

"Leo, c'mon."

"We're not even people!!!" He repeated. "Fuck. We never even had a chance, and we didn't even know it!... Oh my god, we’re such morons!!! Hahaha-- welp! This is it! Pack it in, boys, it’s all over!"

"Leo, chill. What are you even talkin’ about?"

"Did you know I was gonna go on T?" He questioned, turning around sharply, suddenly, to face Raph. "Me and Dad were talking about it. For, like, a while now. And I was gonna start T, finally. Do you know how much I wanted to do that? Do you know how long I've been waiting to get to do that?"

Raph frowned. "Leo... This doesn't mean--"

"How the fuck is that going to work now!?" He interrupted. "How is anything gonna work now? We're fucking! REPTILES! Raph!!!"

"I KNOW THAT!" Now Raph was yelling, too, and Mikey flinched a bit, hiccuping softly as he drew himself down, retreating slightly, halfway into his shell (oh my god, he can do that now?) "You think you're the only one who was lookin' forward to stuff? I was--" He cut himself off, breathing in deep and then letting it out slow, his jaw tensed.

"Look. I know this... sucks. But it's not gonna help to just throw in the towel right now and mourn shit that we don't even know is gone yet, alright? We'll... figure it out," he said. "We don’t even know what’s goin’ on, so let’s just… let's just try to figure it out first. Okay?"

Leo frowned. He looked down and to the side, tightening his hands into fists, but he didn't have any rebuttal. After a moment, he took a deep breath, pulling himself up to his feet for a second time. He tottered for a moment, his arms windmilling until he found his balance and this time he stayed on his feet. He looked around the room for a moment before his eyes fell on the limp form of Baron Draxum, still crumpled in a heap some odd paces away.

"What do we do with that guy?"

All of their eyes snapped over, as though they had all just remembered that he was there in the first place.

"Did you knock him out, dude?!" Raph questioned, his eyes widening slightly.

"No! I mean. I don't think so. Not exactly," Leo said. "It's, like-- he grabbed me and some sort of mystic-magic-whatever thing happened. He lit up with a bunch of symbols and he just... went down. I dunno what happened."

"Well," Raph said, sighing deeply before he pulled himself to his feet as well, doing a similar rock and wobble to Leo before he figured out the new balance he had to strike, correcting his own footing. His long tail swung back and forth behind him, assumedly on instinct, to help. "We dunno how long he's gonna stay down, so we oughta find a way out of here and put some distance between us and him ASAP. We already know where Dad is, anyway."

"Maybe we can figure out where we are," Donnie mumbled bleakly, pulling himself to his feet as well. He seemed to struggle much less than his brothers did, and Mikey noted that his back rounded less than theirs. April got up as well, sticking close to his side, but perhaps hovering a bit less now.

Mikey watched as his family rose up, one by one, finding their feet again. And something in his chest unwound and loosened again. A breath he hadn't realized he had been holding came tumbling out of him.

He didn't know his own face anymore. And he didn't recognize his brothers when he looked at them.

But they were still them. Already, Mikey was completely sure of it. And the change, while still terrifying, felt just a tiny bit less devastating.

He hadn’t lost them yet.

Bracing himself for the coming challenge, he rose up to his feet as well. The unfamiliar weight on his back was more than he had expected and attempted to drag him down, and he stumbled slightly, nearly toppling over onto his back the same way Leo had the first time-- but Raph grabbed his wrist before he could, pulling him forward and correcting him, and Mikey was relieved to find his center of gravity once more. Usually, he would complain about his big brother stepping in, preferring to do things on his own rather than being 'babied' by his older family members, but...

Right now, it was actually okay.

"Okay. Let's do this."

(They took about three steps before Raph yelped and tripped over his own tail.)

---

Though they had tied up the so-called "Baron Draxum" with whatever rope and other scrap they could find in this place, (the longer they were here, the more Donnie began to suspect it was a lab of some kind,) none of them were very confident that it would be able to hold him for very long, if at all, and so they all got to work trying to figure out an exit. But to call this place 'maze-like' was a bit of an understatement.

"This is the worst landmark ever," April hissed in frustration as they turned a corner, only to once again be met with a hog-tied yokai, face-down on the concrete. "We keep going in circles!"

"Okay, look," Donnie sighed. "I know we don't want to linger here any more than we have to, but let's look around a bit and see if there's anything useful lying around to get us out of here. Clearly just walking out isn't getting us anywhere."

There was a chorus of grunts and mumbles of agreement from the rest of his family, and the group slowly fanned out, beginning their search. It was dark here, wherever they were. The ground beneath his feet was cold, with him and his brothers having already ditched and stowed their sneakers and boots after realizing how awkward and painful it was to walk in them with their new wide, two-toed feet.

The space was wide and almost circular, with various tunnels branching off at different levels, all leading away to who-knew-where. Several desks and tables were scattered about the space, each surface covered in everything from charts to pipettes to oddly-shaped jars filled with oddly-colored substances. Donnie just barely resisted the urge to sit down and start working, or to begin snatching and pocketing things as he found them. Instead, he took a liberal amount of photographs of everything they found on his phone.

His impulse control could only get him so far, however, and his eyes narrowed as they fell across a small, purpley-pink gem that lay on the desk, suspended within a small glass case. This certainly looked interesting... Geology wasn't really a passion of his, but something about this just seemed... intriguing. He couldn't quite place it...

Surely no one would miss this, right? It was small! It would be silly not to take it, quite frankly, and he slipped it into his pocket as quietly as he could when he was sure no one else was looking.

Now, if only he could find some blueprints of the tunnels... But that would be too easy, wouldn't it?

"So," Mikey said after a minute or so of them searching, and Donnie sighed internally. Of course, they couldn't expect him to stay quiet for that long. "If Raph is a snapping turtle, and me and Leo are turtle-turtles, then what kind of a turtle is Donnie?"

Donnie rolled his eyes, scowling. "Okay, well, first of all, do we really have to discuss this?" He hissed, immediately bristling. "I’d highly prefer we not address the proverbial elephant in the room, thank you! Second of all, 'turtle-turtle' is not a species."

"Yeah, but, like, we have turtle shells!" Mikey explained. "But April said yours is squishy. So what does that make you?"

Donnie sighed deeply. Talking about this made his skin itch.

"A softshell turtle, I suppose."

"A softshell?" Leo questioned, raising a brow. "That's a thing?"

"Yes."

"How do you know that off the top of your head?" Raph questioned.

"Some of us actually paid attention during biology classes," he responded dryly. And having a near-photographic memory did, admittedly, help as well…

"Whoa!" Mikey absolutely beamed. "That's so cool! Now we just gotta figure out what kind of turtles me and Leo are!"

"Well, I'd look it up if we had any service. And also if it was even close to being an appropriate time for us to waste our efforts on something like that," Donnie said with a roll of his eyes. He knew that Mikey was just distracting himself, finding a silver lining so he didn’t break down, but Donnie didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about how much of their entire lives was completely fabricated, about how--

He snorted, suddenly doubling over with laughter.

"What?" April questioned, raising a brow.

"I just-- I just realized!" Donnie laughed. "Our... our moms must be turtles! Fucking turtles!"

There was a beat of silence as this sunk in before Raph gave a similar reaction. "Damn! I guess you're right, huh?"

"Do you have any idea how much time I wasted in therapy talking about this?" Donnie squeaked out through giggles. "I spent so much time with Mossy talking about our mom and how she didn't want us or whatever the fuck and about the stuff she did to Dad and how I couldn't remember her, and she-- she was never even real! None of that ever even happened! She was just a fucking turtle, wasn't she!? We don’t even have a real mom!"

"Whoa! Mind... blown. I didn't even think about that..." Mikey gaped, his eyes wide. "This whole time I just assumed that our mom was probably the hotel lady..."

"Yeah, me too," Leo agreed.

Donnie blinked.

"You what?"

"Well, you know, that woman that Dad was datin’ right before he disappeared," Raph said. "And she runs the Grand Nexus Hotel, right? All the articles I ever read always mentioned her."

Donnie's eyes twitched. "You thought she was our mother?" He questioned.

"Well, that's who Dad was datin’ last! And for a long time, too. It'd make sense, wouldn't it?" Raph defended.

"Yeah. You didn't think that?" Leo said.

"NO! Why would I think that?!" Donnie was laughing again.

Leo huffed in offense, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry, do you know something we don't?"

"Apparently!" Donnie exclaimed. "Guys, you've seen pictures of her, right?!"

"Well, yeah?" Mikey tilted his head to the side.

"She's pale as fuck!"

"So?"

"And our Dad is Japanese!"

"And? Donnie, what's your point?"

"We're black!"

"... Ooooohhhhh," all three of his brothers said, nearly in unison, after Donnie's argument finally sunk in.

"Oh my god," Donnie laughed, covering his face with his hands, scrubbing tears from his eyes. "You're all so fucking dumb..."

"I guess our mom would have had to be black. I mean. We got the Japanese half from Dad, but... I never really thought about where the other half came from..." Raph admitted, his mouth still slightly agape like he was still rolling the thought about in his head.

"Wait a minute," April said, her hands on her hips. "I mean, yeah, all that makes sense, but if you guys have secretly been turtles this whole time, then why are you black?"

"Dude, are all turtles black?" Mikey questioned, his eyes widening.

"I cannot discuss this any further. I'll get a migraine and furthermore cease to function, as I am, and I cannot stress this enough, just barely suppressing the gravity of this whole situation right now," Donnie sighed, gesturing to himself as he turned back to the desk in front of him. "Did anyone find anything yet?"

"Not yet," April sighed, shuffling through some papers. "What even is all this junk?"

"I'm not sure. Some sort of research, it seems like..." Donnie mused, sort of thumbing through a book as he spoke, reading key phrases and chunks of text as quickly as he could and making mental notes so he could refer back to it later. He was more than happy to have something else to focus on, though this would admittedly be a lot easier with human hands. "But I'm still not sure where--"

Shhhh shhhh.

Donnie paused mid-sentence, his brows furrowed. He hadn't noticed that sound before now. He tilted his head a bit to the side, turning in its direction, trying to zero in.

"... Donnie?"

"What's that noise?" He questioned aloud, though his voice was barely above a whisper.

Shhhh shhhhh.

He knew that noise. He recognized it. Where had he heard it before?

Shhhh shhhhh.

... Water, he realized with a start. The noise was running water. Of course. How had he never realized this before?...

That's what he was hearing. That's what he had heard.

"Dee? You good?"

"Guys," he said, turning just enough to glance over in their direction. His face suddenly felt like glass. It was odd. "I think... I think we're in the sewer," he said. "... And I think we've been here before...?"

Before anyone could say anything further, a new noise filled up the space.

Skrrrtttccchhhhh.

---

"What was that?!" Mikey shrieked, immediately leaping behind his biggest brother to hide. Leo and Donnie were instantly gravitating to each other as well, falling into stance on instinct as they stood back to back, each covering the other.

"It sounds like something scratching," April said thoughtfully, and true to her word, the same skritching noise clawed its way through the air a moment later, echoing slightly against the walls. "I think it's coming from over here!"

"April!" Raph hissed off a protest as she took off, heading in the direction of the sound. "We don't know what that is!"

"We will if we go look!" She chirped in reply. I mean, come on, what was the benefit of hiding over here instead of investigating? Weren't they curious either way? Besides, they were stuck here regardless-- maybe they'd find something helpful.

The noise continued as April searched, peering around corners and down tunnels, until, finally, she found her prize. Tucked inside one of the off-shoot tunnels, one of the many dead-ends that seemed to surround this space, was a proverbial treasure trove. A variety of odds and ends filled the space; various amulets and scrolls and chests and even weapons were leaned up against the wall or stacked up on the ground. In fact, a lot of weapons were in here. Was this some kind of a weird armory? Or a trophy room? What kind of sewer has a trophy room?

But most interestingly, she found the source of the noise. Inside a small, dimly lit orb, looking as though it were made of some sort of glass, or perhaps even light, was one of the oddest creatures April had ever seen, clawing sadly at the surface of its prison. It had ears like a chihuahua, pointed and too big for its head, with tufts of fur poofing out from inside, but huge eyes like some kind of a cat. Pointed tusks stuck from its mouth like a boar, but soft, downy yellow-and-blue fur covered its entire, squirrel-like body, complete with a fluffy, wriggly tail.

"AW, you guyyssss!" She called out. "Come look! It's cute!"

"April!" The guys were right behind her, with Raph leading the charge. "You can't just run off like-- jumpin' jack flash! What the heck is that thing?!"

"I dunno!" April said with a shrug, immediately making her way into the room, scooping up the orb so she could examine it, looking for a way to open it up. The little critter inside pattered about excitedly, its claws clicking against the smooth surface. "Help me figure out how to get him outta here."

"Are you sure about that?" Leo questioned. "No offense, but we have nooo idea what that thing is! Maybe it's, I dunno, locked up for a reason?"

"What? C'mon, guys, we've gotta help!" Mikey protested, turning on them with big, pleading eyes. Nice, April thought, with Mikey on her side she had basically already won. Suck it, middle children. "Plus, he was locked up by Draxum. So he can't be bad!"

"Yeah! Ever heard ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend?’" April added in.

"I'm not convinced," Donnie said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I mean, has anyone else noticed that pretty much everything else in this room is a weapon of some kind? Isn't that maybe a bit telling?"

"Aw, come on, Dee. Look at this face!" April insisted, holding up the orb to the others. The creature, to their credit, played their part, pulling an absolutely pitiful face which Mikey immediately echoed, turning to his brothers with watery eyes.

Checkmate.

"Okay, okay, fine. Look, there's gotta be something in here that can help us bust him out..." Leo muttered, beginning to pick his way through the contents of the room with Raph, Donnie, and Mikey following suit shortly after.

"Here, what about these?" Leo said after a moment, turning to face them with a pair of twin katanas in hand. "Think I could slice that bad boy open with these guys?"

April scoffed, clutching the orb close to her chest. "Uhm, and this guy in half, maybe!" She protested. "Can we try something a little less deadly, please?"

"Aw, come on! These are cool," Leo protested, grinning as he twirled them in his hands with a metallic shwing.

"You just like them because you always win at any swordsmanship event at tournaments," Donnie remarked dryly, grabbing a long wooden staff to hold in his hands, testing the weight of it. "... That being said, should we maybe grab some of these just in case?"

"Whaddya mean?" Raph glanced over at the other.

"Well, we haven't even made it to the Hidden City yet, and we've already been attacked once," Donnie reasoned, placing a hand on his hip and frowning. "So it wouldn't exactly be a bad idea to have some weapons on hand in case of an emergency." He spun the bo staff in his hands appraisingly a few times. "I mean, obviously this is a bit underwhelming, but I'm sure I could make some improvements once we got back home..."

"Sounds like a good plan to me! Look at all the stuff they’ve got!” Mikey cheered, immediately diving in, beginning to sort through all the various options they had in the room. He chuckled darkly, swinging a pair of nun-chucks in his hands. “These’ll do…”

“Yo, guys!” Raph called, waving to get his brothers’ attention before pointing to the very far corner of the room. “If we’re gonna take stuff, why don’t we take the glowy ones?”

There was, in fact, a weapons rack filled with floating, vaguely glowing weapons, tucked away in the shadows, which only made the glow all that much more tempting. They were simply begging to be taken.

Mikey and Leo, almost in unison, gasped, their faces absolutely lighting up as they raced over to join Raph. “Ooh, dibs on the sword!” Leo cheered, immediately snatching up the odachi and repeatedly striking poses.

“Hot soup! Check me out!” Mikey snatched up a bright orange kusari-fundo, absolutely beaming ear-to-ear. Raph was nearly drooling as he laid his claim on a pair of tonfas, beaming as he gave a few experimental swings.

“They’re perfect! No one’ll mess with us now!”

“What about you, Donnie?” April questioned, tilting her head back to glance at the remaining brother. “Don’t you want a glowy weapon?”

“And add yet another unknown, uncontrolled variable to our current situation? I’m good,” Donnie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’ve trained with a regular, wooden bo staff. I’ll fight with a wooden bo staff, thank you very much. You all have fun with your likely-radioactive weaponry,” he said, waving them off.

“Here, April, I got something for you, too,” Mikey chirped excitedly, scampering over to present his find to her. “Ta-da!!! Baseball bat!”

It wasn’t a baseball bat-- it was a club. But close enough! April gasped in delight. “It’s perfect!” She enthused, immediately snatching it up, rolling it around in her hands and tapping it against the side of her shoe a few times. Ooh, and the weight was perfect, too. “And I think it can help us get little guy out of this ball thingie, too! Leo, come hold it still for me!”

"Aw man, why do I gotta hold it?" Leo muttered in complaint but did as he was told regardless, kneeling down to hold the orb steady, taking care in the placement of his hands to minimize the chances of broken fingers.

"Alright," April said, backing up a bit, her tongue sticking out from between her lips with focus. "This won't hurt a bit..."

She swung the club back, taking care to temper her strength, and brought it down on the little ball prison with a satisfying crunch.

"Did it work?" Mikey gasped, his eyes wide as he leaned over. The orb was not shattered nor laying in pieces; but the side of it had caved in considerably, a spiderweb of cracks blossoming from it, and a second later, it simply dissolved as if it had never been there in the first place. The creature that had previously been trapped inside cracked one eye open, having squeezed itself into the very back of its cage, flinching at the oncoming impact, gave an absolute trill of excitement, darting about in celebration.

"There we go!" April said, grinning wide, her hands planted on her hips. "See, told ya I'd get you outta there! That's better, right?"

The little yellow beast threw itself into her lap, wriggling with joy and nuzzling at her with an enthusiastic wag of its tail. "Okay, okay! You're welcome!" April laughed, giggling as she allowed the creature to clamber about in her arms, allowing it time to bounce about before it finally began to settle again.

"Any chance you know how to get out of here, little guy?"

---

Raph looked up from his phone and his tea at the sound of mail plopping down on the table, glancing over to examine the letters his father had just tossed over in his direction.

"For you," Dad remarked, sorting through the remaining mail from the day.

"For me?" Raph echoed, his brows rising up. "Who the heck is sending me mail?" Curiosity took hold immediately, and he abandoned the wrestling video he had been watching previously in favor of tearing open the letters on the table.

He was surprised to find college brochures inside. His father, however, did not seem all that surprised at all, even adding a couple more to the pile.

"It seems you are in high demand," Dad teased, smiling the tiniest bit. "I have received a few emails as well from recruiters recently."

Raph paused for a moment, rolling this idea about in his brain, trying to figure out what it meant and what it tasted like before he forced a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Guess they haven't seen my grades yet," he joked weakly. Dad hummed softly, pulling up a chair so he could sit down next to his eldest son.

"Nonsense," he scoffed. "Your grades are fine, Raphael. You've simply tricked yourself into thinking they're not by comparing yourself to others," he added, giving the other a knowing look. "And besides that, this is hardly the only thing that matters. I have told you many times that grades aren't everything. My grades in high school were terrible!" He remarked with a laugh. "And your career in sports is very impressive."

"I guess," Raph said, wrinkling his nose up a bit as he leaned over the table. Easy for him to say. He had a hard time wrapping his head around the idea of colleges being interested in him when his three younger brothers were right here in the same damn house! Had they really meant to send these to Hamato Raphael?

Dad's hand moved to rub little circles into his back, and he nudged his son's teacup a bit. Raph agreeably took a sip, allowing the warm liquid to trickle down through his chest.

"I know you have not always enjoyed schoolwork, Raphael," Dad finally spoke again. "But you are not stupid. You may very well have the most common sense of any of my children!" He chuckled. "And you have many talents besides that. You are a remarkable athlete, and I know I do not have to drag you over to the trophy wall to prove this to you, but I will if I have to. You are only sixteen and you are already the captain of multiple sports teams... not just anyone could handle that! It is difficult to lead a team. But you have always handled this with grace. And teaching children! That is a talent in and of itself. That is no easy task. Trust me, I know," he said, smiling slightly. "But you are doing so well with your new job. And I am very proud of you."

Raphael glanced over at his father, for just a moment, hesitating like he wanted to say something, but then biting it back.

"You don't have to go to college if you don't want to," Dad added. "If you decide that is not the path for you, that is fine. I won't be upset or disappointed. I did not go to college, either! But I would hate for you to not even consider it just because you don't think you're good enough for it," he pressed. "I know you've always said you intend to pursue a career in sports of some kind, but this is very much an avenue to achieve that if you'd like. Many professional athletes get their start through college sports, you know. And I can already name half a dozen universities off the top of my head who would be thrilled to have you on their team in a couple of years!"

He sighed softly.

"But you do not have to decide right now, my son. There is still plenty of time for you to consider all of your options."

Raph glanced over at his father, shifting a bit in his seat, before looking to the side.

"Uh. I dunno, Pops. I mean. I'm not good at tests and all that junk. I mean. College football could be good 'n all, but, uh..."

He hesitated a second, sort of scratching the side of his jaw, hesitating a bit. "I dunno. Maybe I could... I mean. We could look at it, at least. I was kind of wonderin’ about, uh. I dunno… Just, lately, I was thinkin' about... studyin' early childhood education, maybe?..."

[ next ]

#sorrywhatnowau #sorrywhatnowau fic #rottmnt #rottmnt fanfic #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt au #rottmnt human au #tmnt

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bonefall · 7 months

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Moorland Research Notes

I usually let these sit in my drafts because they're kinda messy, but no one actually knows anything about moorland, including myself shortly before starting this deep dive. So I'm just going to post this in the hopes that it's useful in some way

This post is about moorland in the UK, I have not done any research into moorland in other places, and then I focused more specifically on lowland heath.

Feel free to use this information for anything you so desire, and check out the sources I put at the bottom of this list if you'd like to learn more. I really hope this helps out WindClan Fans in particular

I do plan to condense what I've learned and chosen into a "Welcome to BB!WindClan!" type post at some point, but this is a REALLY broad post on what moorland is.

What is moorland?

Moorland is a broad term that lumps together several completely unique biomes, most of which are partially or completely reliant on the management of human beings. They are defined by low-growing flora and acidic soils, which makes them difficult for non-specialist plants to grow in.

These can be sorted further into upland or lowland, dry or wet.

Because many types of moorland are dominated by heathers, they are also called heathlands. Though the terms Moor and Heath are sometimes used interchangeably (and this is where a lot of confusion comes from), usually, Moor refers to upland/wet, and Heath refers to lowland/dry.

I have to stress a that LOT of the confusion is coming from this. Heather will grow in both, and the terms get used interchangeably, but an upland/wet moor is FUNDAMENTALLY different from a lowland/dry heath, down to the very soil.

Most specialists will open up an explanation by defining how they're using the Moor/Heath distinction, and will stick to those terms, but just keep in mind that in casual language, ALL of these biomes get called moors, and places without any heather will get called heath.

They can also touch. There are locations where upland moor slopes into lowland heath, or upland heath kisses lowland moor, and there can be very special species that exist in the transitional space between these areas. This too is yuri.

It is not a prairie. It is not a savanna. Please for the love of god stop portraying moorland as prairies and savannas

lots of purple. why he ourple? heathers and purple moorgrass.

Common heather is also called ling, flowery bell heathers are sometimes called erica, and gorse can be called whin or furze

Maritime heath, dune heath, blanket bog, upland moor, transitional upland heath... these are all frequently lumped under the same term even though they are very different.

How are moorlands managed?

Above 700 meters of altitude and in harsh weather conditions, you get montane heath. Near coastlines, you can find maritime heath. These are the only two that are completely "natural" and require no human management.

In wet moors, the elements will beat the vegetation down into peat. Above the peat is turf, the top layer which grows the visible flora. Peat = below, Turf = above. Peat has historically been used as a fuel, and if that bottom layer catches fire, IT IS DISASTROUS.

Because of this, most upland moors (which are usually wet and PACKED with peat) are managed primarily through grazing. There are even breeds of sheep and cattle who have been specially bred to thrive in upland moors-- such as the iconic highland cow. (Though overgrazing can be a problem, too.)

Sheep are used to graze back the heather (sometimes called ling), and in good modern practice, goats are brought out along with the flock to eat pioneering shrubs and saplings. Pigs are also used to control bracken and combat ex-pine plantations with scattered needles, because of their ability to churn soil.

However, controlled burns are still done in some circumstances and when required (LIKE BEFORE A HEATWAVE). Because of the serious danger, it's considered inferior to good grazing management. It's done carefully, in controlled patches, both to not set the underlayer of peat on fire and to make sure there is differently-aged patches of flora in one area to support different species of animals.

If peat catches on fire, it will burn for days or weeks... and can even smoulder underground after you THINK it's been put out.

In DRY LOWland heath, proper burning is common. Gorse and heather grows strong, woody, and flammable, and the thin layer of peat below can combine to devastating results when a wildfire does eventually break out. Large swaths of dry heather and gorse is an ecological powderkeg, even if it was only growing on mineral soil.

Worse, the older heather gets, the woodier it becomes. Woody heather can cause high-temperature fires that absolutely devastates new growth, leading to a slower recovery and causing a controlled burn to become uncontrolled real fast.

Burns are typically conducted in winter, when it's cold, and grazing animals are deployed in summer.

Cutting is also important in lowland management, literally cutting out squares of turf to expose the ground. This is good for mason bees, specifically.

Moorland. Is. Flammable. Fire risk = HIGH.

If you do not manage the moorland, the moorland will manage YOU. with FIRE.

Do NOT set the peat layer on fire. Whatever you do, do NOT let the peat get set on fire. PEAT FIRE BAD.

The controlled burning of moorland is "swaling", or a "muirburn."

Pigs and goats have special abilities when used in grazing management

Pigs are a tactical nuke

Sheep will graze heather a lot harder than cattle, causing grassy "sward". They should be kept away from it in winter.

MOORLAND IS NOT GRASSLAND. Sward BAD.

Cattle will graze moorgrass a lot harder than sheep and bite back any sheep-induced sward, but trample the soil with their heavy hooves.

Bones tell me about the funny cat environments

Victoria Holmes (the original writer of Warrior Cats, for those who have just walked in, still in your bathrobe and perhaps comically eating some sort of breakfast bagel, on a cat giving a detailed ecological lecture to a bunch of other cats) has spoken about how she based the environment of the Forest Territories on New Forest, Hampshire UK.

[ID: New Forest's heathland on a misty morning. It's dominated by common heather with a few sparse trees, and a New Forest Pony grazing alone.]

That means that WindClan's moor was a lowland heath, characterized by sandy soils with excellent drainage. This is consistent with the thin layer of peat, deeper layers of sandy soil and clay (as encountered by tunnelers), and lush vegetation that's seen in DOTC and Tallstar's Revenge.

If that's not enough evidence, it's also described after its destruction in these terms;

New Forest boasts some of the widest swaths of well-managed lowland heath in the entire UK. It's been managed collectively for hundreds of years, and exists in tandem with bogs and old-growth forest for miles. The heath is just as important as the trees, here!

In TNP, the forest is tragically bulldozed to create suburbs. While they were at it, they also bulldozed the geography of Great Britain because, suddenly, there is a MOUNTAIN in Southeastern England; a region notoriously flatter than the Onceler's ass

So once the Clan cats get to the Lake territories, we could be dealing with a completely different biome. They might have gone from dry, lowland heath, to wet, upland moor.

However, descriptions of the new territory are scarce, to put it lightly. In spite of the Lake Territory being the setting for the past 20 years, WindClan's land is rarely shown. When we do get a glimpse of it, like in Crowfeather's Trial, we only get told about the presence of certain species such as gorse. Because of there being no tunneling, we don't know what's exactly below the surface, either.

Occasionally though we are made aware of the presence of "moorgrass" (possibly Molinia Caerulea) and the smell of peat, pointing towards it probably being upland moor. The bigger question is actually where all the sheep are? There should be a lot of sheep here, but instead, there only seems to be horses.

Aaaaand lastly before I close out on canon material, Lungwort.

Lungwort is a herb that becomes a plot device in A Vision of Shadows. ShadowClan becomes sick with a variant of greencough, and it is said that Lungwort would be its only cure. However, it "only grows in WindClan" and the leader, Onestar, has refused to let them have this medicine.

But lungwort doesn't grow on moorland. ESPECIALLY not wet, upland moor, which we might maybe possibly be dealing with now.

Lungwort is a FOREST plant, it needs the absolute opposite conditions of a moorland. It requires moist but well-drained ground, FERTILE soil, and full or partial shade. There's no way that WindClan has it and ShadowClan doesn't, OR its neighbor ThunderClan, in the WOODS, who Onestar has no power over.

It would also poison a cat but honestly 75% of the plants they use in canon would also do that, so, whatever.

What they SHOULD have gone for is great mullein which prefers full sun and well-drained soils, so it could feasibly be found best in some parts of WindClan, regardless of which sort of moor or heath primarily makes up their territory.

What sorts of plants are found in moorlands?

In moorlands, you'll find plants that can withstand poor soil quality and full sun. In upland moors, they also have to be hardy in frequent heavy rains and high winds. Because it has conditions that so few plants are able to handle, moorland is chock-full of specialists and unique species that aren't found anywhere else!

Historically, moorland could not be used for agriculture exactly because of this. With the invention of artificial fertilizers and introduction of (invasive) pines from America, moorland is under serious threat. Even if it's just next to a pine plantation, the trees will attempt to spread.

COMMON HEATHER, also called Ling, is the big bad boy associated with most moorland, and used for a bajillion different things. First of all, it was used in construction for thatching. Second of all, it can be used as a yellow dye, especially on wool. Third, honey made from heather pollen is as thick as jelly. It's found on all sorts of moorland, and is an extremely hardy species.

BELL HEATHER, sometimes called Erica, is more commonly associated with lowland heaths. It's one of the best flowers for pollinators in the entire world, and attracts tons of insects.

GORSE, also called Whin or Furze, smells overwhelmingly like coconut. It is also covered in wicked thorns. It's highly flammable and can burn ridiculously hot, making it excellent to collect as kindle.

PURPLE MOORGRASS is associated with upland moor, but will grow basically anywhere nothing else could. It's scary hardy, surviving in acidic soil down to a PH of 2 (THAT IS THE SAME LEVEL AS YOUR STOMACH JUICE), and can grow as tall as 4 feet (and even taller, apparently, next to its bestie girls heather and gorse).

In heath, tormentil, milkwort, and heath bedstraw are indicator herbs, and wavy hair-grass, bristle bent, and vernal grasses are found here and there.

PLEASE remember that moorland is not grassland. When grasses go from sparse to common, it's a very bad sign. It means the soil is losing its acidity, and converting into a different biome.

Bramble, bracken, nettles, perennial ryegrass, and broadleaf plantain are some of the species that can indicate that a heath is becoming a grassland. A few patches or examples are fine, but if they're eating into the gorse/heather/moorgrass, it's time to call in some management.

There's also the fascinating, parasitic plant called dodder. Dodder likes to twirl around heather before suffocating it to death. Cool plant! I don't know where else to mention dodder. I just think it's neat.

Threats to Moorland

I mentioned the problems in passing through this whole post, but to restate, these are some of the major problems that moorland faces.

AFFORESTATION: When trees are added.

[ID: A sitka spruce plantation on upland moor in Scotland, followed by a clip of Markiplier who condemns it in no uncertain terms.]

American pines, such as the douglas fir and sitka spruce don't belong here. These are commercial plantations and they exist to make money, but are touted as "eco friendly" because uneducated rubes think 1 Tree = 1 Ecology Point. They provide diddly or squat to native wildlife, destroy valuable moorland which can negatively impact carbon capture, and let fools pat themselves on the back for doing nothing but put government money into a logging company's pocket.

(there are also only 3 native conifers to Great Britain-- the scotch pine, the common juniper, and the yew. All others are introduced.)

But even worse than being a wooden blight, these are wooden blights that spread. If there's a plantation nearby, it WILL begin to encroach on the surrounding moorland, and the traditional sheep and cattle will not eat the saplings. GOATS are being added to herds in modern grazing management to combat this new problem.

The native birches (silver and downy) plus the scotch pine will also move in when moorland is not managed! They are pioneer species, which success the moor into secondary woodland.

OVERBURNING: When moorland is burned too much.

Even if you don't set the peat on fire and cause an even bigger problem, too much burning is bad for the biome as well. This is often done to serve hunters, who want to perpetually keep common heather in the youngest state possible to support grouse populations... and grouse populations alone.

Properly managed moorland will be burned in sections, NOT all at once, so that there's a healthy mix of plants in different ages to provide shelter and food to the animals that live in the environment. Too much burning will decimate the insect population, and prevent peat buildup.

("Hold on Elder Bones, why is peat good?" Carbon capture and soil acidity! It's super efficient at combating global warming, and peaty soils will prevent the moor from quickly succeeding into a grassland.)

NUTRIENT ENRICHMENT: De-acidifying the soil and making the soil welcoming to other species

Specifically from dog and horse droppings, but also from the addition of fertilizers. The biggest thing that can be a problem here is how conservationists try to balance public access to these spaces with the "recreation pressure" from having too many visitors.

SOURCES

I have had to do SO MUCH READING. OH my god, this was not easy research, please appreciate this big, beautiful list of resources I am giving to you

GREAT BRITISH LIFE: A really good intro to heathland (This article was written by Katie Piercy from the Cheshire Wildlife Trust)

WILDLIFE TRUST: Heathland and Moorland, Moorland, Lowland Heath, Cheshire Heath, Bell Heather, The Roaches

BUGLIFE: Upland heath as it relates to insect populations (website contains insect-centric guides to many unique UK biomes)

NEW FOREST: Heathland information and history

NATIONAL TRUST: Bickerton Hill and the Restoration Work

WIKIPEDIA: The Roaches, Yorkshire Dales, Heath, Moorland (listen kids, wikipedia is always a great place to start. Just make sure to double-check the claims you see there.)

COUNTRY LIFE: A flowery article that describes the North York Moors (this one's just really pleasant!)

AN ACTUAL LOWLAND HEATH ECOLOGIST: Dr. Sophie Lake's Presentation for the NPMS (This is the most detailed and proper source on this list, if you want to learn some serious info, PLEASE check this one out)

#Moorland #Lowland Heath #WindClan #hello everyone I hyperfixated on this for 12 hours straight

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realpokemon · 1 year

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How come a guy can spend months breeding and realeasing thousands of hapless baby pokemon into the environment just in order to have a fucking purple Kingdra that could kill you with a half assed water gun but when I collectively breed 3200 skiddo, mareep, and wooloo I'm "obsessed with goats" and "going to inflate the wool market" and "have a serious problem?" Like fuck off Linda I don't care if I don't have enough space for all of them THEY'RE MY BABIES AND I LOVE THEM AND I'LL NEVER HAVE TO GO YARN SHOPPING AGAIN SO LET ME LIVE MY GAY SHEEP FARMER FANTASY

you had me in the first half but GOOD FUCKING LORD. YOU CAN LIKE HERD POKÉMON WITHOUT BREEDING ENOUGH TO FILL A GODDAMN ORCHESTRAL THEATER WHAT THE FUCK

#pokemon #unreality #pkmn irl

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callmethehunter · 4 months

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Oh dear Anon, you have made my day! These are great questions about my favorite subject in the world: Robert Plant.:D And as far as that goes, I could (and will) go on and on about this forever, I’ve got so much to say!!

I’ve been obsessed with Robert’s music as well as with his personal life for years. I find him to be a multifaceted, highly talented and intelligent person who embodies traits that one would think were mutually exclusive, yet are somehow at home in him. He is without a doubt, totally outrageous and extroverted, he wants to be the center of attention, yet he is also reclusive, a deep thinker who is keenly aware of the world around him while also being introspective and self-aware. In his own words he has said

“It's part of me to get off on those moments where... well, what people would call attention. Obviously, that isn't the be-all and end-all of life, but at the states of creativity that I've reached, well, it helps the lyrics along a little bit.”

“ I’m pleased with how ridiculous I am. I like me. Though I’m not a huge fan. I know when to switch me off.”

I do think he has a very warm heart. He is genuinely interested in other people, in experiencing the most out of any given situation.

In my opinion, he loves the idea and the feeling of falling in love. He gets off more on that than on the longevity. It’s like he’s got ADHD in the aspect of love lol!! I say this because of the number of serious relationships (and not so serious relationships) that he has had in his life. I’m sure he was saddened when they ended, but then he’s moved on to the next great infatuation and adventure. He’s quite capable of starting again, as he has shown multiple times both in his personal and professional life. But I also think it’s a testimony to his heart that he’s been able to continue to be friends with his past loves. “There have been people I've warmed to over the years but, as the situation I'm in is so fleeting and transient, I've always known it's going to be over kind of real quick.”

I mean think about this: after having children with two sisters, Maureen (his exwife) and Shirley, they have been able to raise their children in what looks like a loving extended family. His sons, Logan (with Maureen) and Jesse (with Shirley), are half-brothers as well as first cousins. Just think on that for a moment. In a recent picture, there’s the entire family on vacation: Maureen, Shirley and their children with Robert, as well as Robert and a previous girlfriend, Jessica something or other (don’t remember her name). He’s not confined to societal conventions. He could give a flying fuck. I love that free spirit and he himself has said (and I paraphrase) that he may come across as being a good mate, but in reality he’s out to do whatever the fuck he wants. (And it shows!! )

He says, “...if you do what you think is right for the benefit of everybody and everything and you make decisions, then to go back and regret them afterwards - it's a futile experience and it's not worth thinking about. Because life just unfolds. Provided you do your best and you think you're on the right track, you can only be right or wrong. But to regret it - I don't think there are any huge errors or misdemeanors.”

In the area of friendship, however, he is fiercely loyal. He and Bonzo were like brothers till the end, and even still, Robert honors his dear friend. He’s also been able to maintain friendships with so many people from his hometown- people he knew before he was famous. He puts away the trappings of fame and fortune to be the good old Black Country boy, riding horses and playing with goats, walking around in the forests and enjoying nature.

“I think I could sing and shear a few sheep at the same time.” He is the picture of the word “earthiness”. Able to be the rock god on stage as well as the humble farmer on the farm or at the local pub. He’s loyal to his soccer team and to the sport itself which has been a lifelong passion. And I love that in him.

Is he a hedonist? Absolutely, he has tasted every pleasure there is to taste. His every material wish could be a reality in an instant...He has done drugs, had hundreds of one night stands. He is a highly sensual man. IMO the sexiest man that’s ever walked the planet. His sizeable bulge perpetually stands* as a symbol (no pun intended*) of his virility and lust (and I like it!!) He exudes charisma and raw sexual energy. He’s done it all to the highest level, partied and cavorted around the globe. What a life he’s lived!!

But in his lyrics there is also a deep spiritual side of him: I think he is a modern day troubadour and philosopher. His lyrics touch on that, “it is the springtime of my loving” ….“In the light you will find the road” “when all is one and one is all” “Then as it was, then again it will be, though the course may change sometimes, rivers always reach the sea” and I could go on and on with other examples. These are just what popped in my head. “I am a reflection of what I sing. Sometimes I have to get serious because the things Ive been through are serious” He’s had moments where he is the “golden god” as well as tragic moments such as the loss of his 5 year old son and the loss of his dear friend Bonzo. These are definitely reflected in his music.

All in all, in his own words:

“I'm like one of those firecrackers that goes off in your pocket occasionally. I'm not really struggling with it as much as the people around me. But at least I'm not doing too much damage to anybody or to myself. It's just the condition I'm aware of.

And he’s still got a twinkle in his eye.

Thank you for letting me go and on about this man, he holds such a special place in my heart. He is a beautiful and joyous old hippie full of wisdom and talent.. He has created a lasting legacy and I hold the deepest admiration for him, despite his human frailties or shortcomings.

#robert plant #led zeppelin #thanks for indulging me on my favorite subject #you deserve a medal if you read all the way through!#i just love him💕

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notjuststardust · 1 month

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One Piece Monster Trio +Law and Ace: What kind of dog breed would they be?

Monkey D. Luffy

American Pitbull Terrier

-In general terms american pitbull terriers are often misconstrued as something they aren't because people want to sugarcoat what their original purpose was, dog fighting.

-THIS IS LITERALLY LUFFY'S PLAQUE THROUGHOUT THE SERIES.

-DOESN'T MEAN THEY ARE MEAN.

-Just means their inner goofball comes out when they are doing terrier things.

-LIKE LUFFY BEING A CAPTAIN.

-Though they're silly, loyal and more intelligent than people give them credit for, a purpose driven life with people that understand that insane drive and appreciate a velcro dog are best for these dogs (ahem, Zoro, ahem)

-LOVE TO EAT.

-Also their big gaping smile reminds me of Luffy too.

-Above pictured is Dino, a dog at my local shelter who has been looking for a home all his life. I have hung out with him and can vouch he is dog friendly, people friendly and an overall great pup. He is now with a foster home to care for his very specific allergy needs. I would take him home and rename him Luffy if I could, please check out his adoption page and share so he can find a good home!

New Bern, NC - American Pit Bull Terrier. Meet Dino a Pet for Adoption - AdoptaPet.com

Roronoa Zoro

-ANATOLIAN SHEPARD

-Yall thought I'd say pitbull.

-Absolutely not because Zoro has PRESENCE and that comes with a livestock guardian breed.

-These dogs are intense.

-Bred to take on wolves and coyotes and to be willing to die for their families.

-The Anatolian shepard specifically is a very quiet livestock guardian dog hence why I chose this over the great Pyrenees.

-ALSO THEY WERE SPECIFICALLY BRED FOR THIS COLOR TO STAND OUT TO SCARE THE WOLVES OFF AND I FEEL LIKE THATS SO ZORO.

-Though they're MASSIVE they have athleticism similar to big cats because they were originally bred for the fields of Turkey.

-Y'all can't tell me that the level of athleticism Zoro maintains while being built like a tank doesn't make this match.

-Good head on their shoulders to access threats and work well within their job and independently.

Vinsmoke Sanji

-Dachshund

-HEAR ME OUT

-I'M SERIOUS.

-Dachsunds are go getters, HOUNDS.

-They're independent, drivey and WILLFUL and like who they like.

-They're meant to work alongside terriers (Luffy) to trap the badgers so the terrier can take the threat out.

-Literally the goat of hound dogs.

-EXPLORERS.

-EVERYONE SEES THEM AS SOMETHING THEY'RE NOT.

-Distinguished little velcro dogs who will recklessly fight for their person despite the threat to themselves (SANJI'S SELFLESSNESS??)

-Not actually breed specific but literally every dachshund I have ever met has a love for women.

Trafalgar Law

-Siberian husky

-I'm going to get really specific and say a husky that pulls lead on the sled.

-These dogs will work themselves until they die.

-They're so stubborn that their drive and need to work literally has altered their metabolisms to adapt.

-Thats definetely what happened to Law's brain.

-ACTUALLY (Their metabolisms are biologically different than other breeds, able to practically slow and speed up at will)

-Not to mention they are meant to be working together at all times BUT are incredibly independent unless forced to work together.(LUFFY AND LAW).

-Smarter than you.

-Also, the markings on them just look so Law to me.

-Don't do well when they aren't working.

-Will easily fall back on anxious behaviors when separated from their jobs.

-Also, I can so imagine Law doing the quiet grumbling that these dogs do when they 'complain'.

Portgas D. Ace

-ROTTWEILER

-It is in their blood to be silly (not a fact, just speculation pls don't cite me for a college paper)

-Drive for food and play is high.

-Originally bred as herding dogs but due to unforseen circumstances of their size and perception were forced to become protectors of the families of sheep they herded (ACE WITH LUFFY AND SABO).

-THEIR SMILES ARE THE SAME.

-Smart but dumb.

-CLINGY. LITERALLY JUST CLINGY.

-Threat perception and self preservation is skewed just because of the herding breed in them so it can make them a little too brave sometimes.

-Originally bred to be a family herder and fated to be an independent guardian, close to work but far from family.

#portgas d ace #monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy headcanons #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji headcanons #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro headcanons #trafalgar law #trafalgar law headcanons #blackleg sanji #blackleg sanji headcanons

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mediumtires · 1 year

Note

i'm rereading copper and wool and did you ever say what christians anniversary gift was for toto 🤔

okay okay SO! this is so funny, a few weeks ago the first person ever (shoutout to FallingStar on ao3) actually guessed right! it's sheep! to me it was so obvious (copper and wool etc) but looking back now, it really wasn't. so christian's anniversary gift is sheep lol.

when i wrote it i was actually planning a tiny little sequel but I abandoned it and now it's collecting dust on my desktop. that being said, i’ll put it here (unbeta-d first draft) for those who might want to read it!

“No. No chance.” “C’mon, be a good sport.” “Nein,” Toto says, trying hard to hide his smirk. “I will not let you blindfold me.”

“What if I were to take you upstairs?” “Are you?” “No.” “Then no,” Toto laughs, a little exasperated, and tries to pull away from Christian’s insisting hands.

“C’mon, darling,” Christian tries again, a wide grin lighting up his features. “You know it’s the standard protocol for surprises.”

“I don’t trust you,” Toto just says and turns away from Christian and the tie in his hands to put the water filter back in the fridge. “Fuck you.” Christian laughs in retaliation and swats the tie at him. “At least close your eyes then.”

Toto sighs heavily and turns back to Christian, propping one hand up on the kitchen counter. “Are you serious?” “Entirely.” Christian knows he’s won when Toto sighs once more in exasperation and rakes a hand through his hair.

“But don’t make me fall,” he instructs. “Or walk me into things. I’m very important.” Christian rolls his eyes. “I know you are. Now, c’mon. Close your eyes. We don’t have all day.” “We don’t?”

But Toto does close his eyes after all and stretches his hands out to curl them around Christian’s hips. As Christian starts walking, he says, “Y’know, if you would’ve gone for the tie, I might’ve taken you to the bedroom after.”

Toto snorts. “If you want me to tie you up and blindfold you, just ask,” he offers with a devilish little smirk and Christian is glad he’s got his eyes closed. Something to consider. “Maybe later.” He’s aiming for nonchalant, but he knows Toto sees right through him anyway.

When they step out onto the patio, Toto pulls up his shoulders and frowns. “Are we outside?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Can you not just let me do this for five minutes?” Christian asks, exasperated. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Toto does shut up after that, but it’s mainly because he’s concentrating hard on not tripping and falling when trailing after Christian.

It’s been a few days since their return from Miami and this is the first lull in both their schedules, both of them home early, so frankly, Christian saw an opportunity and took it. Not that he thinks it would have made a huge difference to wait another day or two. Toto hasn’t set a foot anywhere but the chicken coop in a good week, so the probability of him finding out about this is hilariously low. It does make Christian question the whole idea somewhat, but it’s too late now anyway. Still, the Carrera on his left wrist weighs a little heavier than usual.

Toto trips once they reach the gravel path leading further into the grounds and digs his hands into the fleshy bit of Christian’s hips to catch himself. He grunts, stumbles, and Christian can’t help but crack a laugh. “Careful there,” he offers. “Gravel.” He pats Toto’s left hand and then keeps his palm there.

“You are supposed to guide me,” Toto complains, and he already sounds like he’s enjoying this much less than only a minute ago. “You are making me fall on purpose.”

“I’m not.” Christian rolls his eyes towards the sky but keeps moving. “Not everything I do is to antagonise you, darling. Now stop whining.”

Toto does not stop whining because of course he doesn’t. He’s very vocal about how stupid this whole thing is all the way past the chickens, the goats and the donkeys, the pen closest to the house, past their two old ponies, Jacky and Jim, which they had adopted on a whim from the farmer up the road.

For a moment, Christian is contemplating whether he should just push Toto into the pond to humble him. A while ago a bunch of ducks moved in and don’t seem to want to leave again. Christian has grown quite fond of them. More often than not he finds them with the chickens now or waddling around the farm.

“Are we—Is that ducks? Is that the ducks?” Toto has picked up on the distinct flapping of their wings, affronted at the unusual intrusion of their privacy. Christian chuckles at the drake side eying them and pulls Toto further down the path towards the folding. It’s the one attached to the barn at the outskirts of their main property, and Christian had chosen it mainly because it was the one Toto would be least likely to walk into unprompted.

“Almost there,” he says and takes one of Toto’s hands in his so navigating the uneven grounds becomes a little easier. “Should have put on wellies,” he ponders, as he eyes the meadow, the grass long and wet. It’s perfect for the sheep but not exactly ideal for Toto’s dress shoes. They’re Italian leather.

“What?” Toto makes a sound as the damp grass hits his ankles and Christian’s smirk widens. “Christian, you should’ve told me! My boots were right there! These are Italian leather!”

He knows. “I know.” He pulls Toto along. Surprisingly, despite his bitching and moaning, he keeps his eyes closed. “Might have to throw them out later. Shame.” He’ll make sure to keep Toto out here long enough for them to be soaked through and ruined.

Toto makes another sound, displeased, but Christian can see how hard he’s trying to bite down on his exasperated amusement. Toto’s about to throw a comment back at him when a loud “Baaaaa” cuts him off. “What was that?” Toto pulls himself up a little taller. The sheep must’ve spotted them because there’s another string of agreeable bleating. “Christian, what is that?”

They stop at the fence and Toto, still with his eyes closed, sways a little, gripping Christian’s hand to regain his balance. “Christian.”

“Jesus, yes.” Now that he’s looking at the flock of sheep, all huddled together and warily observing Christian and Toto at the fence, he’s not sure if this wasn’t a silly idea.

He’d come up with it when Toto had one night jokingly suggested they should get sheep.

“Sheep?” “Yeah.” “Do you know how much bloody work sheep are, darling? We can barely keep up with the animals we’ve collected so far! We’re lucky we’ve got Johnny to help us out.” Toto had just laughed and kissed his shoulder and let it go, but then, on a trip to Austria last year, Toto had told him how he’d seen a herd of very specific Austrian sheep every time he’d visited his gran in the countryside and how they reminded him of the better times of his childhood. When Christian started thinking about potential anniversary gifts, it was too perfect to just let go. He couldn’t for the life of him remember the breed Toto had mentioned, but the more he’d looked into it, the more he’d realised that while Austrian sheep are very durable and sturdy, they would probably do less well in the mellow British countryside of Oxfordshire, and so he’d decided on British breeds instead. In the end, he’d just gone for one that looked adorable and was easy enough to maintain. With the accumulation of random animals they already had running around the farm, it wouldn’t make much of a difference anyway. They wouldn’t be using them for wool farming or that, so might as well have them be nice to look at.

The longer he looks at them now, Toto impatient at his side, still holding his hand, the heavier the watch on his wrist feels. Christian isn’t one for huge gestures or anniversary gifts, but somehow things this year felt different. It hasn’t even been a year since Singapore. It still follows them around, the consequences of that day, shadowy and washed out, but he can still feel it, and so can Toto. Christian is just glad they’re still here. They made it to seven years, and beyond, and for whatever bloody reason he thought a flock of seven sheep would be ideal to celebrate an anniversary centred around wool.

“Christian, there’s water in my shoes,” Toto informs him, and Christian turns his head and grins at his city husband, still blind, the corners of his mouth tweaked down.

“That’s a shame,” he says, “You can open your eyes now.”

Toto does so immediately. He blinks, frowns up at the grey sky, rubs at his eyes with the hand that isn’t still holding Christian’s. Christian lets go to lean against the wooden fence instead.

There is a brief pause. Then, “Christian?” “Yes, darling.” “What am I looking at.” Christian turns to Toto with his eyebrows twitching. As if it wasn’t obvious. “Your anniversary gift!” Toto’s eyes go a little wider as he looks back at the flock of sheep, a huddle of white fleece and black eyes. “What?”

“I told you, your gift was waiting at home.”

“You got me… sheep?”

“Well, us, I guess. But yeah.”

“Seven sheep?”

“Well, first of all, Johnny said no less than five.” Christian is getting a little flustered now and so he blusters on in full pretentious confidence of a Formula 1 team principal defending a Max overtake that no one in good conscience should defend. “And so I wanted to get six, but then I thought, well that doesn’t make any sense, does it, when it’s our seven year anniversary and the theme I’m going with is wool. So I got seven. And they’re a family! The two little ones were only born a few weeks ago. I didn’t want to take them from their mothers.” He pulls his shoulders down a little to straighten his back and keeps looking at the sheep to avoid having to look at his husband. “Plus, you were banging on about wanting sheep.”

“You remembered that? That was ages ago.”

“So?”

“Christian.” Toto’s voice is soft in a way it only ever is when he’s about to say something disarming. “Darling. I—” And then he just wraps himself around Christian from behind, chin hooked over his shoulder and nosing Christian’s cheek. “You said they are too much work.”

“Well, you said you wanted them so—” “How do you manage to outdo me every time?” Toto’s voice is awfully quiet. “I really thought I nailed it this year.” Christian breathes a laugh, half of it in relief that he, against better judgement, didn’t mess this up. “You know I love my watch,” he tells Toto, fingers brushing the warmed leather hugging his wrist. “And this isn’t a competition. You got copper, I got wool. Sorted.”

“I can’t believe you got me sheep,” Toto says again. His voice is a little higher than usual, his accent catching on the vowels, making the words come out hitched.

“Well, look,” Christian grabs one of the large hands wrapped around his torso and covers it with his own. “It’s not just—Sure, you said you wanted sheep, but—Look, I know you’re not a farm boy, okay? You’re very much a child from the city and I know you say you love our home, but I want you to feel it, too, I want you to feel at home here and not just come along for the ride and agree to everything I say. Especially after last year, I want this place to be our sanctuary, and if it takes bloody sheep because you said you wanted them, then so be it. There’s your sheep.”

Toto’s smile widens, Christian can feel it pressed to his cheek, and he can feel the pleased little hum too, reverberating down his spine. Toto’s hold around him tightens fractionally. “I feel very at home, darling. You know that, ja? I don’t need sheep for that. Mostly I need you.”

Christian closes his eyes on a deep breath, and sinking further into Toto’s chest he says, “We can put them with the rest of the lot soon. They’ll need another few days or so, until they’re settled in, and then we can move them in with the others.”

“We’ll need a sheep dog now.”

Christian barks a laugh, lets his head thump against Toto’s shoulder in defeat. “Yeah, no, Bernie and Flav won’t do, will they? Lazy little buggers.” “It’s because you feed them at the table.” “Hey, you started that! Flav, with those puppy eyes and you just—Don’t think I don’t know you cut him up steak when I’m not looking!” Toto’s silent laughter comes in short puffs of breath against the skin of Christian’s neck. “No no no no,” he feels the need to clarify even though they both know it’s the truth. “You feed them too, don’t lie.” Christian tries to stifle a smirk. “They are a tad overweight, aren’t they?” “The vet said, last time,” Toto reminds him. “We need to work them harder, or cut out the food.” Christian hums. “It might be time for a third. A puppy will work them alright.” He coughs a laugh, already regretting this, and adds, “Might as well get a cow or two while we’re at it. Not like it matters now.”

“What are we going to call them?” Toto suddenly asks, lifting his chin from Christian’s shoulder to regard the sheep more closely.

“Well, we gotta stick to the theme.” Christian’s mouth lifts into a smirk. “So you better get creative.”

“It’s my turn, isn’t it?” Toto asks. “My sheep, my turn.” “Toto, I swear, if you’re going to name them something stupid—” “You named the donkeys and now I have to call them Max and Daniel!” Christian’s protest dissipates into thin air. “Well, it works, they’re good names.” “Yes, and now it’s my turn.” “Just remember, it’s mostly ewes. One ram, the big one, the rest is ewes, and the two lambs are one of each.” “…ewes?” “Female sheep, darling. So I want no Lewis running around, or George, or whoever you’re already thinking of.” “No,” Toto hums thoughtfully. “Lewis is a goat, not a sheep.”

It's so stupid, it has Christian crack a well-earned laugh.

And bonus (cause I couldn’t work this in):

“You know, they’re like… designer sheep.” “They’re what? Designer sheep?” “Yeah, well, look, we’re not going to use them for breeding, or wool, or meat, are we, so they’re… you know. Nice to look at. Sheep we can keep as pets, more or less. They’re still a durable breed, just. Also nice to look at.”

Toto laughs at him for an hour after that.

Here are said sheep!

“They look a little like donkeys, don’t they?” “You think?” “Ja.” “Well, they’re not, they’re sheep. Kerry Hill.” “Kerry who? Have you named them already?” “What? No, that’s the breed, darling. They’re Kerry Hill sheep. They’re from Wales.” “So basically foreigners, yes? We should give them foreign names. International.” Toto grins at him, then he adds, “We should give them German names you can’t pronounce.”

#this is so stupid lol #this is literally just a rough first draft so bear with #it’s the same twenty words i always use #i have no idea if this even makes sense. probably not i won’t lie i skimmed it once and shrugged #also i know fuck all about farming ok #don’t come for me i don’t know the difference between a hen house and a chicken coop it’s the same to me #and!#shoutout to FallingStar on ao3! they’re the only one who figured it out!!!#(i know i promised i’d name the sheep but i never got there lol sorry!!!)#also i can’t quite remember but i think discord saw this first? it was ages ago but sending love <3<3<3 #toto wolff #christian horner #seven years #christian/toto

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kemetic-dreams · 9 months

Text

Are you scared yet???

When we hear of blood sacrifices what comes to mind?

Devil worshipping, doing something evil

And why and how did our preception of this become so?

Most of our perceptions of blood sacrifices comes from horror movies that are meant to cause over dramatic visuals.

When was the last time you saw a blood sacrifice?

People fear the unknown.

As European colonized the diaspora and Africa.

All aspects of African cultures especially the religion so to speak.

Random taunts of everything Africans did was devil worship and also Native Americans.

European's fear of the unknown, shifted the culture.

The same fault or superstition that was caste on Native Americans and Africans. Europeans are guilty of.

Leviticus 22:17-33 ERV

It might be because of a promise that person made, or it might just be a special sacrifice that person wanted to give to the LORD as a burnt offering.

If the gift is a bull, or a sheep, or a goat, the animal must be a male. And it must not have anything wrong with it. You must not accept any offering that has anything wrong with it. I will not accept that gift. “You might bring a fellowship offering to the LORD. That fellowship offering might be payment for a special promise that you made. Or maybe it is a special gift that you wanted to give to the Lord. It can be a bull or a sheep, but it must be healthy. There must be nothing wrong with that animal. You must not offer to the LORD any animal that is blind, that has broken bones or is crippled, or that has a discharge or a serious skin disease. You must not offer sick animals as a gift to the any animal that is blind, that has broken bones or is crippled, or that has a discharge or a serious skin disease. You must not offer sick animals as a gift to the LORD. You must not put anything like that on his altar. “Sometimes a bull or lamb will have a leg that is too long, or a foot that did not grow right. If you want to give that animal as a special gift to the Lord, it will be accepted. But it will not be accepted as payment for a special promise that you made.

Qurbani means sacrifice. Every year during the Islamic month of Dhul Hijjah, Muslims around the world slaughter an animal – a goat, sheep, cow or camel – to reflect the Prophet Ibrahim's willingness to sacrifice his son Ismail, for the sake of God

Human sacrifice???

A foundational doctrine of the Christian faith is that the sacrifice of Jesus Christ paid the penalty for the sins of mankind—that without this act of love by the Son of God, humanity would have no hope of life after death.

In the traditional Yoruba religion and culture, sacrifice is referred to as (Ebo). It connotes offering something to a particular deity or cult in other to be in communion with them or to seek favours.

What is an EBO sacrifice?

Ebo, or sacrifice, is a broad concept including all types of sacrifices and offerings to the Orisha. These can include candles, fruit, candy, and various items or actions that may be appreciated by the Orisha. Ritual sacrifice is an important part of the beliefs and practices of Orisha worshipers.

Various scholars describe Vodou as one of the world's most maligned and misunderstood religions. Its reputation is notorious; in broader Anglophone and Francophone society, it has been widely associated with sorcery, witchcraft, and black magic. In U.S. popular culture, for instance, Haitian Vodou is usually portrayed as destructive and malevolent, attitudes often linked with anti-African racism. Non-practitioners have often depicted Vodou in literature, theater, and film; in many cases, such as the films White Zombie (1932) and London Voodoo (2004), these promote sensationalist views of the religion. The lack of any central Vodou authority has hindered efforts to combat these negative representations.

Since the 1990s, evangelical Protestantism has grown in Haiti, generating tensions with Vodouists; these Protestants regard Vodou as Satanic, and unlike the Roman Catholic authorities have generally refused to compromise with Vodouists

Leviticus 17:11 is the Old Testament’s central statement about the significance of blood in the sacrificial system. God, speaking to Moses, declares: “For the life of a creature is in the blood, and I have given it to you to make atonement for yourselves on the altar; it is the blood that makes atonement for one’s life.”

A “sacrifice” is defined as the offering up of something precious for a cause or a reason. Making atonement is satisfying someone or something for an offense committed. The Leviticus verse can be read more clearly now: God said, “I have given it to you (the creature’s life, which is in its blood) to make atonement for yourselves (covering the offense you have committed against Me).” In other words, those who are covered by the blood sacrifice are set free from the consequences of sin.

Ancient Egypt was at the forefront of domestication, and some of the earliest archeological evidence suggesting animal sacrifice comes from Egypt. However, animal sacrifice was not a central practice of Egyptian religion, but was rather a peripherical occurrence that happened away from worshippers. The oldest Egyptian burial sites containing animal remains originate from the Badari culture of Upper Egypt, which flourished between 4400 and 4000 BCE. Sheep and goats were found buried in their own graves at one site, while at another site gazelles were found at the feet of several human burials. At a cemetery uncovered at Hierakonpolis and dated to 3000 BCE, the remains of a much wider variety of animals were found, including non-domestic species such as baboons and hippopotami, which may have been sacrificed in honor of powerful former citizens or buried near their former owners. According to Herodotus, later Dynastic Egyptian animal sacrifice became restricted to livestock – sheep, cattle, swine and geese – with sets of rituals and rules to describe each type of sacrifice

Worship in ancient Greek religion typically consisted of sacrificing domestic animals at the altar with hymn and prayer. The altar was outside any temple building, and might not be associated with a temple at all. The animal, which should be perfect of its kind, is decorated with garlands and the like, and led in procession to the altar, a girl with a basket on her head containing the concealed knife leading the way. After various rituals the animal is slaughtered over the altar, as it falls all the women present "must cry out in high, shrill tones". Its blood is collected and poured over the altar. It is butchered on the spot and various internal organs, bones and other inedible parts burnt as the deity's portion of the offering, while the meat is removed to be prepared for the participants to eat; the leading figures tasting it on the spot. The temple usually kept the skin, to sell to tanners. The fact that the humans got more use from the sacrifice than the deity had not escaped the Greeks, and is often the subject of humour in Greek comedy

Practices of Hindu animal sacrifice are mostly associated with Shaktism, Shaiva Agamas and in currents of folk Hinduism called Kulamarga strongly rooted in local tribal traditions. Animal sacrifices were carried out in ancient times in India. Some later minor Puranas forbid animal sacrifice though the upapurana, Kalika Purana, describes it in detail.

Shaktism traditions

A male buffalo calf about to be sacrificed by a priest in the Durga Puja festival. The buffalo sacrifice practice, however, is rare in contemporary India.

Animal sacrifices are performed mainly at temples following the Shakti school of Hinduism where the female nature of Brahman is worshipped in the form of Kali and Durga. These traditions are followed in parts of eastern states of India at Hindu temples in Assam and West Bengal India and Nepal where goats, chickens and sometimes water buffalos are sacrificed.

Sacrifice of Animals has less to do with worshipping of Satan or being evil.

Sacrifices are not all blood some are symbolic, fruits, money, clothes, aspects of life.

Kobe Byrant had to sacrifice friends and family to become who he is.

We all make some type of symbolic sacrifice that can be time or if you are a Celebrity, you sacrifice your privacy.

Abrahamic Cultures and Europeans superstition towards non-European cultures tend to cause our consciousness of Sacrifices.

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hushed-chorus · 11 months

Text

Hello babes, sweeties and gentlefolk of all stripes! And thank you all for your tags last Sunday!

I didn't do much writing last week, just some hand-writing of the Shipwreck COTTA and editing the Selkie!Simon fic, The Selkie and his Boy. The first chapter should be dropping in the near future! I'm aiming for funny and cute with some light angst, but it's all Baz POV (and that boy be pining) so I've needed to adjust the tone in a few places. I think I'm getting there, though!

Here's a little snippet of Selkie!Simon doing selkie stuff.

I’m briefly struck mute when Simon kneels and starts sweeping away sand. He slumps down, belly settled in the small dip, huffing out a breath contentedly. I glance around, notice some of the early beachgoers giggling. “Would you prefer to lie on your back?” “Pfft. No.” He tilts his head towards me. “Why not?” “Because it feels like I’ll get stuck.” He sets his head back down and closes his eyes. “…On your back?” “Yeah.” I chuckle. “You’re absurd.” “What if a seagull lands on my belly?”

Short ramble about WRATS under the cut!

Oh my god the last chapter of What Remains After The Storm will be posted next week. I won't be sharing an excerpt, but being so near completion has made me reflect on how it started. And how hard it was to think of a title. I chatted at length with @erzbethluna, and our serious suggestions rapidly descended into silliness.

Sooooo here are some of my favourite of our silly possible titles.

Baz is a hot fish prince and he demands fishy tribute

2. Baz has a nice ass as a fish but what’s new

3. Slippy Slidy Bazzy gets goat lickies

4. The Saltlick Prince

5. Stupid sexy Gollum (credit to @cutestkilla and @bookish-bogwitch for inspiring this one🤣)

6. Fucking kiss already

I was a bit disappointed I couldn't use The Saltlick Prince. Really didn't fit the tone. But maybe I'll use it in a follow-up one-shots 😂

Hellos and tags! And anyone who wants to join this, consider this my eager invitation!

@johnwgrey @bookish-bogwitch @artsyunderstudy @facewithoutheart @captain-aralias @raenestee @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @yeonjunenby @cutestkilla @ivelovedhimthroughworse @larkral @stitchyqueer @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @ileadacharmedlife @confused-bi-queer @aristocratic-otter @tea-brigade @whogaveyoupermission @nightimedreamersworld @fatalfangirl @thewholelemon @onepintobean @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @shrekgogurt @theearlgreymage @martsonmars @blackberrysummerblog @orange-peony @palimpsessed @valeffelees @j-nipper-95 @rimeswithpurple @wellbelesbian @imagineacoolusername

#wip wednesday #simon snow #simon snow fic #baz pitch #snowbaz #what remains after the storm #selkie!Simon #the selkie and his boy

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moonflower1605 · 5 months

Text

Chapter - 27

(Percy's POV)

Below us in the cave were Polyphemus & Grover, still in his wedding dress. Clarisse was tied up, hanging upside down over a pot of boiling water. I was half hoping to see Tyson down there, too. Even if he’d been in danger, at least I would’ve known he was alive. But there was no sign of him.

“Hmm,” Polyphemus pondered. “Eat loud mouth girl now or wait for wedding feast? What does my bride think?”

He turned to Grover, who backed up & almost tripped over his completed bridal train. “Oh, um, I’m not hungry right now, dear. Perhaps-“

“Did you say bride?” Clarisse demanded. “Who-Grover?”

Next to me, Annabeth muttered, “Shut up. She has to shut up.”

Polyphemus glowered. “What Grover?”

“The satyr!” Clarisse yelled.

“Oh!” Grover yelped. “The poor thing’s brain is boiling from that hot water. Pull her down, dear!”

Polyphemus’s eyelids narrowed over his baleful milky eye, as if he were trying to see Clarisse more clearly.

The Cyclops was an even more horrible sight than he had been in my dreams.

Partly because his rancid smell was now up close & personal. Partly because he was dressed in his wedding outfit-a crude kilt & shoulder-wrap, stitched together from baby-blue tuxedoes, as if the he’d skinned an entire wedding party.

“What satyr?” asked Polyphemus. “Satyrs are good eating. You bring me a satyr?”

“No, you big idiot!” bellowed Clarisse. “That satyr! Grover! The one in the wedding dress!”

I wanted to wring Clarisse’s neck, but it was too late. All I could do was watch as Polyphemus turned & ripped off Grover’s wedding veil-revealing his curly hair, his scruffy adolescent beard, his tiny horns.

Polyphemus breathed heavily, trying to contain his anger. “I don’t see very well,” he growled. “Not since many years ago when the other hero stabbed me in eye. But YOU’RE NO LADY CYCLOPS!”

The Cyclops grabbed Grover’s dress & tore it away. Underneath, the old Grover reappeared in his jeans & T-shirt. He yelped & ducked as the monster swiped over his head.

“Stop!” Grover pleaded. “Don’t eat me raw! I-I have a good recipe!”

I reached for my sword, but Nora said, “Wait!”

Polyphemus was hesitating, a boulder in his hand, ready to smash his would-be bride.

“Recipe?” he asked Grover.

“Oh y-yes! You don’t want to eat me raw. You’ll get E coli & botulism & all sorts of horrible things. I’ll taste much better grilled over a slow fire...with mango chutney! You could go get some mangos right now, down there in the woods. I’ll just wait here.”

The monster pondered this. My heart hammered against my ribs. I figured I’d die if I charged. But I couldn’t let the monster kill Grover.

“Grilled satyr with mango chutney,” Polyphemus mused. He looked back at Clarisse, still hanging over the pot of boiling water. “You a satyr, too?”

“No, you overgrown pile of dung!” she yelled. “I’m a girl! The daughter of Ares! Now untie me so I can rip your arms off!”

“Rip my arms off,” Polyphemus repeated.

“Let me down!”

Polyphemus snatched up Grover as if he were a wayward puppy. “Have to graze sheep now. Wedding postponed until tonight. Then we’ll eat satyr for the main course!”

“But...you’re still getting married?” Grover sounded hurt. “Who’s the bride?”

Polyphemus looked toward the boiling pot.

Clarisse made a strangled sound. “Oh, no! You can’t be serious. I’m not-“

Before Nora, Annabeth or I could do anything, Polyphemus plucked her off the rope like she was a ripe apple, & tossed her & Grover deep into the cave.

“Make yourself comfortable! I come back at sundown for big event!”

Then the Cyclops whistled, & a mixed flock of goats & sheep-smaller than the man-eaters flooded out of the cave & past their master. As they went out to the pasture, Polyphemus patted some on the back & called them by name- Beltbuster, Tammany, Lockhart, etc.

When the last sheep had waddled out, Polyphemus rolled a boulder in front of the doorway as easily as I would close a refrigerator door, shutting off the sound of Clarisse & Grover screaming inside.

“Mangoes,” Polyphemus grumbled to himself. “What are mangoes?”

He strolled off down the mountain in his baby-blue groom’s outfit, leaving us alone with a pot of boiling water & a six-ton boulder.

We tried for what seemed like hours, but it was no good. The boulder wouldn’t move. We yelled into the cracks, tapped on the rock, did everything we could think of to get a signal to Grover, but if he heard us, we couldn’t tell.

Even if by some miracle we managed to kill Polyphemus, it wouldn’t do us any good. Grover & Clarisse would die inside that sealed cave. The only way to move the rock was to have the Cyclops do it.

In total frustration, Nora & I stabbed our swords against the boulder. Sparks flew, but nothing else happened. A large rock isn’t the kind of enemy you fight with a magic sword.

Nora, Annabeth & I sat on the ridge in despair & watched the distant baby-blue shape of the Cyclops as he moved among his flocks.

He had wisely divided his animals from his man-eating sheep, putting each group on either side of the huge crevice that divided the island.

The only way across was the rope bridge, & the planks were much too far apart for sheep hooves.

We watched as Polyphemus visited his carnivorous flock on the far side.

Unfortunately, they didn’t eat him. In fact, they didn’t bother him at all.

He fed them chunks of mystery meat from a wicker basket, which only reinforced the feelings I’d been having since Circe turned me into a guinea pig- that maybe it was time I joined Grover & became a vegetarian.

“Trickery,” Annabeth decided. “We can’t beat him by force, so we’ll have to use trickery.”

“Okay,” I said. “What trick?’

“Oh, she hasn’t figured that part out yet.” Nora mumbled.

"Shut up, Nora."

“Great.” I said.

“Polyphemus will have to move the rock to let the sheep inside.” Nora said.

“At sunset,” I said. “Which is when he’ll marry Clarisse & have Grover for dinner. I’m not sure which is grosser.”

“I could get inside,” Annabeth said, “invisibly.”

“What about me?”

"And me?" Nora added.

“The sheep,” Annabeth mused. She gave us one of those sly looks that always made me wary. “How much do you guys like sheep?”

“Just don’t let go!” Annabeth said, standing invisibly somewhere off to our right. I’d crawled under a car before to change my mom’s oil, & this wasn’t too different. The sheep didn’t care.

Even the Cyclops’s smallest sheep were big enough to support my weight, & they had thick wool. I just twirled the stuff into handles for my hands, hooked my feet against the sheep’s thigh bones, and presto-I felt like a baby wallaby, riding around against the sheep’s chest, trying to keep the wool out of my mouth & my nose.

Nora had also done the same & we were silently praying we didn't get caught.

The sun was going down.

No sooner was I in position that the Cyclops roared, “Oy! Goaties! Sheepies!”

The flock dutifully began trudging back up the slopes toward the cave.

“This is it!” Annabeth whispered. “I’ll be close by. Don’t worry.”

I made a silent promise to the gods that if we survived this, I’d tell Annabeth she was a genius. The frightening thing was, I knew the gods would hold me to it.

Our sheep taxis started plodding up the hill. After a hundred yards, my hands & feet started to hurt from holding on. I gripped the sheep’s wool more tightly, & the animal made a grumbling sound.

I didn’t blame it. I wouldn’t want anybody rock climbing in my hair either. But if I didn’t hold on, I was sure I’d fall off right there in front of the monster.

“Hasenpfeffer!” the Cyclops said, patting the sheep in front of me under which Nora was.

“Widget-eh there, Widget!” Polyphemus patted my sheep & nearly knocked me to the ground.

“Putting on some extra mutton there?”

Uh-oh, I thought. Here it comes.

But Polyphemus just laughed & swatted the sheep’s rear end, propelling us forward. “Go on, fatty! Soon Polyphemus will eat you for breakfast!”

And just like that, we were in the cave.

We could see the last of the sheep coming inside. If Annabeth didn’t pull off her distraction soon...

The Cyclops was about to roll the stone back into place, when from somewhere outside Annabeth shouted, “Hello, ugly!”

Polyphemus stiffened. “Who said that?”

“Nobody!” Annabeth yelled.

That got exactly the reaction she’d been hoping for. The monster’s face turned red with rage.

“Nobody!” Polyphemus yelled back. “I remember you!”

“You’re too stupid to remember anybody,” Annabeth taunted. “Much less Nobody.”

Polyphemus bellowed furiously, grabbed the nearest boulder (which happened to be his front door) & threw it toward the sound of Annabeth’s voice. I heard the rock smash into a thousand fragments.

For a terrible moment, there was silence. Then Annabeth shouted, “You haven’t learned to throw any better, either!”

Polyphemus howled. “Come here! Let me kill you, Nobody!”

“You can’t kill Nobody, you stupid oaf,” she taunted. “Come find me!”

Polyphemus barreled down the hill toward her voice.

Now, the “Nobody” thing wouldn’t have made sense to anybody, but Nora had explained to me that it was the name Odysseus had used to trick Polyphemus centuries ago, right before he poked the Cyclops’s eye out with a large hot stick.

Nora figured Polyphemus would still have a grudge about that name, & she was right.

In his frenzy to find his old enemy, he forgot about resealing the cave entrance.

I just hoped Annabeth could stay alive and keep distracting him long enough for Nora & me to find Grover & Clarisse.

Yessss! It's a long chapter to make up for not updating for soo long...😮‍💨

Anywhoo..

Hope you guys enjoy it!😉

Until next time..👋🏻

Link to the next chapter is here.

Link to the prev chapter is here.

Take care my lovely readers.❤️

Comment, like & share.

Alice signing off.

XOXO.

#percy jackson #percy jackson x oc #x oc #sea of monsters

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istumpysk · 2 years

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Jon I (Chapter 3)

The first of many amusing Daenerys -> <- Jon chapter transitions.

The white wolf raced through a black wood, beneath a pale cliff as tall as the sky. The moon ran with him, slipping through a tangle of bare branches overhead, across the starry sky.

"Snow," the moon murmured. The wolf made no answer. Snow crunched beneath his paws. The wind sighed through the trees.

[...]

"Snow," the moon called down again, cackling. The white wolf padded along the man trail beneath the icy cliff.

[...]

"Snow," the moon insisted.

The white wolf ran from it, racing toward the cave of night where the sun had hidden, his breath frosting in the air.

Did you know Ghost running away from the moon towards the sun is jonerys foreshadowing?

Are you confused? Yeah.

+.+.+

Far off, he could hear his packmates calling to him, like to like. They were hunting too. A wild rain lashed down upon his black brother as he tore at the flesh of an enormous goat, washing the blood from his side where the goat's long horn had raked him. In another place, his little sister lifted her head to sing to the moon, and a hundred small grey cousins broke off their hunt to sing with her. The hills were warmer where they were, and full of food. Many a night his sister's pack gorged on the flesh of sheep and cows and horses, the prey of men, and sometimes even on the flesh of man himself.

Eating endangered unicorns and the flesh of men? Arya and Rickon belong in a kennel.

+.+.+

The taste of blood was on his tongue, and his ears rang to the song of the hundred cousins. Once they had been six, five whimpering blind in the snow beside their dead mother, sucking cool milk from her hard dead nipples whilst he crawled off alone. Four remained … and one the white wolf could no longer sense.

[...]

The wolf's pelt was thick and shaggy, but when the wind blew along the ice no fur could keep the chill out. On the other side the wind was colder still, the wolf sensed. That was where his brother was, the grey brother who smelled of summer.

Some people believe Grey Wind is still alive because of the wording.

Thankfully, I don't think anyone in this corner of the fandom needs to be reminded that Grey Wind's head was sewn onto Robb's headless corpse.

And Ghost knows he's dead.

The wolf dreams had been growing stronger, and he found himself remembering them even when awake. Ghost knows that Grey Wind is dead.

Four remained: Ghost, Nymeria, Summer, and Shaggydog. Summer, the direwolf beyond the Wall, is the one he can no longer sense.

+.+.+

"Snow." An icicle tumbled from a branch. The white wolf turned and bared his teeth. "Snow!" His fur rose bristling, as the woods dissolved around him. "Snow, snow, snow!" He heard the beat of wings. Through the gloom a raven flew.

It landed on Jon Snow's chest with a thump and a scrabbling of claws. "SNOW!" it screamed into his face.

I'm assuming this has nothing to do with the bird, and Ghost is showing aggression because Jon is annoyed.

+.+.+

The pillow struck the wall and burst, scattering stuffing everywhere just as Dolorous Edd Tollett poked his head through the door. "Beg pardon," he said, ignoring the flurry of feathers, "shall I fetch m'lord some breakfast?"

"Corn," cried the raven. "Corn, corn."

"Roast raven," Jon suggested. "And half a pint of ale." Having a steward fetch and serve for him still felt strange; not long ago, it would have been him fetching breakfast for Lord Commander Mormont.

Dolorous Edd Tollett is the next Lord Commander, confirmed.

Am I joking or am I being serious? You'll never know.

+.+.+

"Very good, m'lord, only Hobb's made boiled eggs, black sausage, and apples stewed with prunes. The apples stewed with prunes are excellent, except for the prunes. I won't eat prunes myself. Well, there was one time when Hobb chopped them up with chestnuts and carrots and hid them in a hen. Never trust a cook, my lord. They'll prune you when you least expect it."

ha HA, get it? (Rat) Cooks are pruning.

+.+.+

Burning dead children had ceased to trouble Jon Snow; live ones were another matter. Two kings to wake the dragon. The father first and then the son, so both die kings. The words had been murmured by one of the queen's men as Maester Aemon had cleaned his wounds. Jon had tried to dismiss them as his fever talking. Aemon had demurred. "There is power in a king's blood," the old maester had warned, "and better men than Stannis have done worse things than this."

This is referring to Stannis burning Mance and then Aemon Steelsong.

But I'm also reminded of Rhaego and Khal Drogo dying to wake the dragons. I know, wrong order.

Let's hope Jon waking precedes the Shireen and Stannis business. I know, wrong order.

"and better men than Stannis have done worse things than this."

Egg?

+.+.+

The king can be harsh and unforgiving, aye, but a babe still on the breast? Only a monster would give a living child to the flames.

Did you know Shireen Baratheon and Dickon Tarly might be the exact same age? I found that interesting.

Anyway,

<- Daenerys I

No, Dany thought, those are the bones of a child.

+.+.+

The wolf dreams had been growing stronger, and he found himself remembering them even when awake. Ghost knows that Grey Wind is dead. Robb had died at the Twins, betrayed by men he'd believed his friends, and his wolf had perished with him. Bran and Rickon had been murdered too, beheaded at the behest of Theon Greyjoy, who had once been their lord father's ward … but if dreams did not lie, their direwolves had escaped.

I don't understand this.

In another place, his little sister lifted her head to sing to the moon, and a hundred small grey cousins broke off their hunt to sing with her.

How can Ghost sense/hear Nymeria's grey cousins, but can't sense/hear Bran and Rickon with Summer and Shaggydog?

+.+.+

He wondered if some part of his dead brothers lived on inside their wolves. He filled his basin from the flagon of water beside his bed, washed his face and hands, donned a clean set of black woolens, laced up a black leather jerkin, and pulled on a pair of well-worn boots.

Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to.

Dogs were the easiest beasts to bond with; they lived so close to men that they were almost human. Slipping into a dog's skin was like putting on an old boot, its leather softened by wear. - Prologue, ADWD

I can't tell if that's a coincidence or not. It was about dogs, not wolves.

+.+.+

That bird is too clever by half. It had been the Old Bear's companion for long years, but that had not stopped it from eating Mormont's face once he died.

Is there a message here?

+.+.+

Jon moved the cup aside and read the parchment once again. If I put my seal to this, I will forever be remembered as the lord commander who gave away the Wall, he thought, but if I should refuse …

If I put my seal to this, I will forever be remembered as the king who knelt, he thought, but if I should refuse …

+.+.+

"I think I can find the King's Tower by myself." Jon hated having guards trailing after him everywhere he went. It made him feel like a mother duck leading a procession of ducklings.

Sigh.

+.+.+

Jon had established himself in Donal Noye's modest rooms behind the armory. In time, no doubt, he would need larger quarters, but for the moment these would serve whilst he accustomed himself to command.

As he strode past them, a booming voice called after him. "BOY! YOU THERE! BOY!"

Boy was not the worst of the things that Jon Snow had been called since being chosen lord commander. He ignored it.

Listen, I'm all for kings and lords who remain grounded, but this can't happen. You're the Lord Commander, you can't sleep behind the armory, and you can't ignore some twat calling you boy.

"Don't call me the boy," Robb said, rounding on his uncle, his anger spilling out all at once on poor Edmure, who had only meant to support him. - Catelyn I, ACOK

The difference between growing up an heir and growing up a bastard.

In all fairness to Jon, he stands his ground with Stannis.

+.+.+

"How are you and your longbow getting on?"

"I found a good book about archery." Sam frowned. "Doing it is harder than reading about it, though. I get blisters."

"Keep at it. We may need your bow on the Wall if the Others turn up some dark night."

Sam learned how to teleport at the Citadel. Kidding, kidding.

Samwell and archery coming up in a non-Sam chapter. How is this not something? It's all over the place!

+.+.+

More guards stood outside the king's solar. "No arms are allowed in His Grace's presence, my lord," their serjeant said. "I'll need that sword. Your knives as well." It would do no good to protest, Jon knew. He handed them his weaponry.

By the end the Mad King had become so fearful that he would allow no blade in his presence, save for the swords his Kingsguard wore. - Jaime II, AFFC

Diet Daenerys and Daddy Daenerys don't (didn't) allow blades near them. Do you think Daenerys will implement the same rule? Tough call.

Other than that, this is something to consider when predicting Middle Brittle's death. It will be difficult to get a knife near Stannis.

+.+.+

Jon took a knee. The king frowned at him, and rattled the parchment angrily. "Rise. Tell me, who is Lyanna Mormont?"

"One of Lady Maege's daughters, Sire. The youngest. She was named for my lord father's sister."

+.+.+

Stannis read from the letter. "Bear Island knows no king but the King in the North, whose name is STARK. A girl of ten, you say, and she presumes to scold her lawful king."

A child giving Stannis Baratheon the middle finger? Hilarious.

House Mormont remaining staunchly loyal to House Stark despite all the anger Jorah Mormont has for Ned Stark? Priceless.

+.+.+

Maege Mormont had ridden south with Robb, Jon knew. Her eldest daughter had joined the Young Wolf's host as well. Even if both of them had died, however, Lady Maege had other daughters, some with children of their own. Had they gone with Robb as well? Surely Lady Maege would have left at least one of the older girls behind as castellan. He did not understand why Lyanna should be writing Stannis

I don't understand the purpose of this. Why am I reading this?

Obviously the text is telling me the daughters are not at Bear Island, but why? Why is that important?

+.+.+

He did not understand why Lyanna should be writing Stannis, and could not help but wonder if the girl's answer might have been different if the letter had been sealed with a direwolf instead of a crowned stag, and signed by Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell. It is too late for such misgivings. You made your choice.

You made the right choice, and you will be rewarded for it.

and could not help but wonder if the girl's answer might have been different if the letter had been sealed with a direwolf instead of a crowned stag

Expect House Mormont to be on Team Stark during the fight for Winterfell. Hopefully they have more than 62 men.

+.+.+

"Two score ravens were sent out," the king complained, "yet we get no response but silence and defiance. Homage is the duty every leal subject owes his king. Yet your father's bannermen all turn their back on me, save the Karstarks. Is Arnolf Karstark the only man of honor in the north?"

Lol.

+.+.+

Stannis snorted. "You spend your words as if every one were a golden dragon. I wonder, how much gold do you have laid by?"

"Gold?" Are those the dragons the red woman means to wake? Dragons made of gold?

Why does that feel like code? Is that Iron Bank foreshadowing?

+.+.+

"Perhaps his lordship would fancy a wildling wife," said Lady Melisandre. "Is this fat man married, Lord Snow?"

"His lady wife is long dead. Lord Wyman has two grown sons, and grandchildren by the elder. And he is too fat to sit a horse, thirty stone at least. Val would never have him."

Look who's back!

It's The Fall of Flinging Filth at Val! The Fall of Flipping Off Val? I don't know, let me think about it.

+.+.+

"I would hope the truth would please you, Sire. Your men call Val a princess, but to the free folk she is only the sister of their king's dead wife. If you force her to marry a man she does not want, she is like to slit his throat on their wedding night. Even if she accepts her husband, that does not mean the wildlings will follow him, or you. The only man who can bind them to your cause is Mance Rayder."

Thank you. Please don't be an idiot and conveniently forget that.

Val is nobody.

The wildlings don't give a shit about Val.

The northmen don't give a shit about Val.

So maybe the fandom should ask themselves why this nothing character is getting Princess Key-to-the-North treatment.

+.+.+

"I have spent hours speaking with the man. He knows much and more of our true enemy, and there is cunning in him, I'll grant you. Even if he were to renounce his kingship, though, the man remains an oathbreaker. Suffer one deserter to live, and you encourage others to desert. No. Laws should be made of iron, not of pudding. Mance Rayder's life is forfeit by every law of the Seven Kingdoms."

Guess what the rest of this chapter will look like.

+.+.+

"The law ends at the Wall, Your Grace. You could make good use of Mance."

"I mean to. I'll burn him, and the north will see how I deal with turncloaks and traitors.

Do you think George ever forgets if he's writing Daenerys or Stannis?

+.+.+

And I have Rayder's son, do not forget. Once the father dies, his whelp will be the King-Beyond-the-Wall."

"Your Grace is mistaken." You know nothing, Jon Snow, Ygritte used to say, but he had learned. "The babe is no more a prince than Val is a princess. You do not become King-Beyond-the-Wall because your father was."

"Good," said Stannis, "for I will suffer no other kings in Westeros. Have you signed the grant?"

Stannis should now be aware that burning Mance's child is pointless. There's no hereditary monarchy, king's blood is not a thing to wildlings.

+.+.+

"I know that. It makes no matter. They are all we have. There are nineteen forts along the Wall, and you have men in only three of them. I mean to have every one of them garrisoned again before the year is out."

"I have no quarrel with that, Sire, but it is being said that you also mean to grant these castles to your knights and lords, to hold as their own seats as vassals to Your Grace."

"Kings are expected to be open-handed to their followers. Did Lord Eddard teach his bastard nothing? Many of my knights and lords abandoned rich lands and stout castles in the south. Should their loyalty go unrewarded?"

"If Your Grace wishes to lose all of my lord father's bannermen, there is no more certain way than by giving northern halls to southron lords."

He wants 16 castles. The audacity of Stannis Baratheon.

You guys told me he gets better after ACOK. I'm still waiting.

+.+.+

"How can I lose men I do not have? I had hoped to bestow Winterfell on a northman, you may recall. A son of Eddard Stark. He threw my offer in my face." Stannis Baratheon with a grievance was like a mastiff with a bone; he gnawed it down to splinters.

"By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa."

It is not me she wants her son to marry, it is my claim. No one will ever marry me for love. - Sansa VI, ASOS

He's refusing her castle. . .

+.+.+

Lady Lannister, you mean?

+.+.+

Are you so eager to see the Imp perched on your father's seat? I promise you, that will not happen whilst I live, Lord Snow.

Props to @sherlokiness for pointing out Stannis will likely be dead before Tyrion and Daenerys take Dragonstone.

+.+.+

"Castle Black needs no useless mouths," Jon agreed. "I am sending Gilly south on the next ship out of Eastwatch." Melisandre touched the ruby at her neck. "Gilly is giving suck to Dalla's son as well as her own. It seems cruel of you to part our little prince from his milk brother, my lord."

Careful now, careful. "Mother's milk is all they share. Gilly's son is larger and more robust. He kicks the prince and pinches him, and shoves him from the breast. Craster was his father, a cruel man and greedy, and blood tells."

Wait, wait. Does Melisandre know what he's planning? She does, doesn't she? Aren't you getting that vibe?

That's great news for Gilly's baby! That's terrible news for Shireen!

+.+.+

"Her own father got this child on her?" Stannis sounded shocked. "We are well rid of her, then. I will not suffer such abominations here. This is not King's Landing."

Lol.

+.+.+

"I can find another wet nurse. If there's none amongst the wildlings, I will send to the mountain clans. Until such time, goat's milk should suffice for the boy, if it please Your Grace."

"Poor fare for a prince … but better than whore's milk, aye."

ha HA, get it? Jon's mother wasn't a whore.

George, you ass.

+.+.+

Jon ignored that. "I have given you fodder for your horses, and once the stair is done I will lend you builders to restore the Nightfort. I have even agreed to allow you to settle wildlings on the Gift, which was given to the Night's Watch in perpetuity."

"You offer me empty lands and desolations, yet deny me the castles I require to reward my lords and bannermen."

Uninspired. Lacking vision. No imagination. Doesn't have sex with his wife.

+.+.+

"I offered you a name."

"I have a name, Your Grace."

"Snow. Was ever a name more ill-omened?"

Aegon?

+.+.+

"Then give me men, Sire. I will provide officers for each of the abandoned forts, seasoned commanders who know the Wall and the lands beyond, and how best to survive the coming winter. In return for all we've given you, grant me the men to fill out the garrisons. Men-at-arms, crossbowmen, raw boys. I will even take your wounded and infirm."

Stannis stared at him incredulously, then gave a bark of laughter. "You are bold enough, Snow, I grant you that, but you're mad if you think my men will take the black."

"They can wear any color cloak they choose, so long as they obey my officers as they would your own."

My gut tells me these castles will eventually go to the wildlings, but at the same time I'm seriously questioning how any of them could survive the Wall falling.

+.+.+

"Here is your sword in the darkness." Light rippled up and down the blade, now red, now yellow, now orange, painting the king's face in harsh, bright hues.

[...]

What do you think the nine-hundred-ninety-ninth might say about these castles? The sight of your head on a spike might inspire him to be more helpful." The king laid his bright blade down on the map, along the Wall, its steel shimmering like sunlight on water.

[...]

The map lay between them like a battleground, drenched by the colors of the glowing sword.

I thought long and hard about the image of a sword (dragon) laying along the Wall, and came up with nothing.

I think the point the author is trying to make is that if the sword was real, the map should be catching on fire.

+.+.+

"Lord Eddard was no friend to me, but he was not without some sense. He would have given me these castles."

Never.

I swear to god these will be the last words out of his mouth.

+.+.+

"For now. We will see how well you hold it." Stannis pointed at him. "Keep your ruins, as they mean so much to you. I promise you, though, if any remain empty when the year is out, I will take them with your leave or without it. And if even one should fall to the foe, your head will soon follow. Now get out."

Laws should be made of iron, except for when it comes to what I want.

+.+.+

When I gaze into the flames, I can see through stone and earth, and find the truth within men's souls. I can speak to kings long dead and children not yet born, and watch the years and seasons flicker past, until the end of days."

"Are your fires never wrong?"

"Never … though we priests are mortal and sometimes err, mistaking this must come for this may come."

Always got to sneak that in there.

+.+.+

"I have seen you in my fires, Jon Snow."

I'm not suggesting anything here, I'm taking this opportunity to remind everyone that Melisandre can see threats to her life in her flames. If she is killed, high probability she'll see it first.

The red woman laughed. "No one betrayed you, onion knight. I saw your purpose in my flames." - Davos III, ASOS

He had not lied to his king's men, about that or any of it. "The red woman may see what we intend," he warned them.

"We should start by killing her, then," urged Lewys the Fishwife. "I know a place where we could waylay her, four of us with sharp swords . . ."

"You'd doom us all," said Davos. "Maester Cressen tried to kill her, and she knew at once. From her flames, I'd guess. It seems to me that she is very quick to sense any threat to her own person, but surely she cannot see everything. If we ignore her, perhaps we might escape her notice." - Davos VI, ASOS

+.+.+

"You are wrong. I have dreamed of your Wall, Jon Snow. Great was the lore that raised it, and great the spells locked beneath its ice. We walk beneath one of the hinges of the world." Melisandre gazed up at it, her breath a warm moist cloud in the air. "This is my place as it is yours, and soon enough you may have grave need of me. Do not refuse my friendship, Jon.

One point for Melisandre "waking" Jon.

+.+.+

I have seen you in the storm, hard-pressed, with enemies on every side. You have so many enemies. Shall I tell you their names?"

"I know their names."

"Do not be so certain."

You might remember Melisandre was interested in Bowen Marsh back in ASOS.

The others were contenders for the Old Bear's command, all but Bowen Marsh, who had withdrawn from the contest but remained castellan and Lord Steward. Sam did not understand why Melisandre should seem so interested in him. - Samwell V, ASOS

I will repeat the same thing I said then. If she knows who is a threat to Jon's life and is not telling him, I will kill her myself.

+.+.+

You would do well to keep your wolf close beside you. Ice, I see, and daggers in the dark. Blood frozen red and hard, and naked steel. It was very cold.

"It is always cold on the Wall."

"You think so?"

"I know so, my lady."

"Then you know nothing, Jon Snow," she whispered.

Oh my goodness, spooky season.

Final thoughts:

Queen Daenerys and King Stannis trying to rule two kingdoms who don't want them in back-to-back chapters, but sure, tell me all about the Daenerys and Jon paralleled journeys.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #jon i

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hhelliish · 9 months

Text

Some Seven Deadly Sin design ideas i felt i needed to write down somewhere

Lucifer (Pride): he is the character ive worked most on out all of them

currently his design is going through some changes. for one i want him to be more goat like. i still want to keep his sharper nose cuz i just really like that one him, but hes going to start looking more like a furry as the days pass sorry not sorry

his personality i dont plan on changing. he's going to remain a more standoff-ish and quiet, coming off as cold. but on his other side he is actually quite caring and passionate about taking care of his family, his people, and Hell itself

Sathanas (Wrath): hes a bit tricky. i didnt want him to be so predictable by being a meet head jock or something. so i decided to go the business man route.

im thinking of also making him more animal like. maybe a bull to represent the wrath part of him to get a better idea. he also 100% has glasses he's a nerd

personality; similar to Lucifer he's quiet and intimidating, but more like the opposite spectrum. he comes off as more stern and serious, not taking anyones shit and he means it

Beelzebub (Gluttony): my silly. ive grown heavily attached to him

entirely going into a bug look for him. in my mind he looks a bit human but has a lot of bugs features like antenna's, four pairs of arms, huge insect wings, differently bent legs, and possibly abdomen im not entirely sure about that yet

i always pictured him to be very carefree, silly, but really off putting and strange. bro totally eats corpses and thats ok because hes funny <3

he also has a wife and child. she let him hit cuz hes goofy

Asmodeus (Lust): this again is a tricky one cuz i really want him to be unique but translate his design that doesnt feel overcomplicated to design. because if you know how he really looks, its a lot

i do have in mind i want him to be fat as im tired of the definition of Lust being this skinny guy. fat people can be hot af and i want that to be more pushed

i was also thinking with how Asmodeus has more than one face, i either thought he could change his features by waving a hand in face that changes everytime like magic. or he spins his head like a doll and appears a new face every so often. not entirely sure with what i want to do but the separate faces i dont think i want to make to be different people, rather just different appearances

Asmodeus is also a kind and full of passion for others. he has several partners that he all treats very well and is not purely out of lust

Mammon (Greed): again, this is a hard one

Mammon in my mind can be many things and its hard for me to decide what he looks like. so he is the one thats the most work in progress as for some reason its just difficult for me

as for personality, hes by far the nastiest out of all the Sins. besides Belphegor, he very much embraces the sin he represents and doesnt feel bad about it. hes a man of the status quo and likes to be the bigger person power or wealth wise.

even though when being ranked alongside the other seven sins he isn't that powerful compared to Sathanas, Beelzebub, or definitely Lucifer

so hes kind of compensating all the time for his broken ego LOL

Leviathan (Envy): SEA WITCH SEA WITCH

ive been so excited to design her and im gonna go all out with the deep sea monster look. i envision her as a kind of kelpie/siren kind of monster creature girl that has hair covering her face but a huge creepy smile. shes got lots of teeth like a shark

personality so far is that shes a bit creepy. she likes to make herself look as if her spine is cracking in half and loves fucking with people. but sometimes her creepiness is just who she is. no one can tell when shes being serious or being an ass

Belphegor (Sloth): the last furry i promise (not)

yeah, i may be stealing the idea of what Vizviepop is doing with her Belphegor. not like entirely tho since we still dont know what she looks like. but my Belphegor is going to be a sheep for certain

i want her to be the shortest out of all the Sins and look like the fairly unthreatening one. but thats where she gets you cuz actually all along her fluffy wools is eyeballs that pop out of nowhere and scare the hell out of you

her attitude to me is more predictable for Belphegor by being noncaring, monotone, and sleepy. but i honestly cant think of her in any other way it just fits best. i imagine she never even walks she just floats around with a pillow and sleeps randomly

these are just concept ideas btw but i needed to air this out to someone so i hope you guys enjoy seeing my thought process <3

#hellish #oc #hellish lucifer #hellish beelzebub #hellish sathanas #hellish asmodeus #hellish leviathan #hellish belphegor #hellish mammon #my oc stuff #my stuff #my writing #my ocs #oc stuff #ocs

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scarymaddy · 2 years

Text

animals know love

To get to his job, Thomas had to stop by your house, so he knew who you were.

The crazy one who collected abandoned animals, you couldn't help it, not when a poor and defenseless living being wandered through your garden, looking for shelter and food.

Sometimes you just fed them and they left until they needed your care again, and others stayed there with you.

Thomas admired that, he also wanted the freedom to raise innocent animals, he felt that they would be the only ones who didn't judge him based on his appearance.

You would never realize it, but always, when passing by, he stayed for a while in your garden, stroking the heads of your little four-legged children. It brightened his day to see his smiling faces looking at him for his caresses.

Tommy's day couldn't start without giving a little of his love to those animals.

Yet one morning, exactly as Tommy was arriving in your yard, you got out of your truck, carrying a tiny baby sheep in your arms.

Thomas had been caught red-handed, you were surprised to see him there, almost kneeling between two cows, and three goats, all ﬁve eagerly awaiting his affection.

However, now you didn't have the time to worry about your intruder, you had a baby in your arms and it was hurt. You need help, and at the time you didn't care about the job you knew Thomas had, "Um…could you…could you help me with this little guy?" You babbled looking down at the little sheep.

Oh poor sweet Tommy's heart who only wanted to give love. He almost had a heart attack thinking that you would sweep him out of your garden with a broom. He had no choice but to refuse, it was the least he could do after breaking into your home for a long time. He nodded aggressively, leaving his work behind and jumping up and running towards you.

When he arrived with you, you noticed the immense difference in size, you barely reached half his chest, you had to look up to see him and speak to him.

You looked so cute and helpless in his eyes, so manageable and so vulnerable, he was almost sure that if he put her palm on your face, he could cover it completely without any problem.

"I-I need you to hold it, I'll get the instruments from my truck, can you do it?" He nodded, holding out his arms so the little boy could rest on him.

Before you left him, you looked at his arms, so big and strong, with some scars that did nothing but make him look so attractive. His strength gave you the feeling of being safe in his strong arms, no one could do anything to you if you were between him. Your face and ears burned with embarrassment at such thoughts, and Thomas grew nervous at the sight of you, not knowing what else to do while you waited for the baby to be delivered.

Coming back to you, you gently placed the little lamb in his arms, Thomas held his breath, noticed the wound on two of his hind legs, and prayed not to make a sudden movement that would hurt him more.

You trotted to your truck and pulled out a ﬁrst aid kit, then walked back to Thomas, inviting him inside.

He entered fearful, for entering a home that was not his and for the life he held in his arms.

You indicated that he will leave the little sheep in a small bed and told him what happened

"A stupid person missed a bullet, and that bullet hit his mom, I tried to put pressure on the wound but it was too late, the bullet had pierced his heart. And the little one ran for survival but fell into a bear trap, who the fuck has a fucking bear trap in their fucking garden?!" You exclaimed angrily as you healed the sheep's legs.

Now really Thomas could go into cardiac arrest and he would be happy. His uncle Hoyt had at least ﬁve booby traps around his house. The little sheep was like this because of him, and that made him feel bad. He wanted to run away, he felt like the most horrible human being on earth.

"In any case, I don't think it was very serious, he will be able to walk if we take good care of her" you aﬃrmed. The fact that you included Tommy made him almost jump in surprise, no one had ever wanted to include him in something, but he was not going to refuse, it was his fault that the sheep was in that situation and he was going to do what was best for his recovery . "Hey, what were you doing in my garden?" You asked, worried about making people uncomfortable, and boy did you do it, Thomas froze, he knew that sooner or later the subject would come to light, and he hoped it would be too late.

Surrendered, he pointed to your garden.

You understood quickly, you let out a small laugh "Silly, if you wanted to spend some time with my animals you just had to say so, I need a little help with them, they seem to be growing very fast" Silly, that word echoed in his mind, there was been called that many times, but it never felt right like now, that little fool was said in a different tone from how the others said it.

He lowered his head embarrassed, but you quickly placed a hand under his chin and raised it with diﬃculty due to its size, "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you can come as many times as you want…Just don't hit them, they've already been through a lot" you warned with a smirk.

Oh no no no, Thomas could never do that, it would be like the worst of crimes, he would just lay a hand on him to stroke his loins or his head.

Since then, Thomas always went to your house, before and after going to work, suddenly, your animals were already used to you two.

Tommy was happy when he was with you, the two of you sitting carefully in your garden, the baby sheep sometimes lying on your or his lap, while the others were around you getting cuddles.

The conversations were one-sided, you talked about anything, commenting or reporting and he just listened carefully.

Everyone in the Hewitt house noticed that Thomas was taking longer to get back from work now, Hoyt offered to follow him but Luda Mae prevented him, asking them to leave a little space for the boy, in the background, imagining the best.

I guess it was inevitable, you both spent so much time together that it was impossible for something not to come up between you.

But both of them were too shy, all you had had all your life were the little animals you found around your house, you never had time for a relationship like Tommy.

Now you had found him, he shared your same love for animals and that only made it better.

You watched him from your window as you poured two glasses of lemonade, he looked so happy and full in the glare of the sun, lightening a couple of strands of his hair, taking his time with each animal.

You loved everything about him, and although you had never seen what was hidden under his mask, you didn't care, you were already so into your love.

Thomas's excessive reverie knew no bounds, he wouldn't say it out loud, but sometimes he almost always liked to imagine that he came home from work and was greeted by his four-legged children and upon entering the house, he was welcomed with a sweet kiss from you and the delicious hot food you prepared for him.

I yearned with all my being for a quiet life, without hating him, and now that you are in his life, I just wanted a quiet life without you hating him.

You sat next to him on the porch, offering him a glass of cold lemonade, he gladly accepted it, and the two of them stared out at the horizon, unconsciously, Tommy's mind traveled further. Now the two of them were two little old men, both tired, sitting on the porch, looking at the horizon, already having made their lives, living enough with love and animals, both ready to leave together.

"Tommy, are you listening to me?" You raised your voice a little, startling him, he was embarrassed and shook his head slowly. You laughed subtly, and you felt sassy, you let your head slowly drop to his shoulder, you felt him tense beneath you, the heat reaching his face, crying internally as he relaxed and settled into your comfort.

"I was saying that I really like you, Tommy. I want to dare to say that I'm in love with you but ﬁrst I want to know if you feel the same" you confessed again, tensing him again. I swear even you could hear his wild heartbeat.

I should say something before he regrets it, he advised himself. Verbal language was something he was still inexperienced in, so he opted for physical language. As you thought about getting up and apologizing, he removed his arm, letting your head fall onto his big strong chest, his arm wrapping around you tightly, pulling you closer to him if that was possible.

Letting go, you wrapped your arms around his stomach, your ﬁngers not touching behind him, but you didn't care. You ﬁnally felt it, the feeling of security and love that you wanted so much, you rested happily on his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart. Thomas breathed in the scent of your hair, burying his nose in it. He felt good, complete being by your side. The happiness he had been experiencing by your side only grew stronger.

You raised your legs to his thigh for greater comfort, he understood and raised you until your butt will be on one of his thighs and your legs will be resting on his other thigh, you had more capacity to lie on the.

Silence reigned for a few moments, until you raised your head, ﬁnding me with his jaw, it was not deﬁned and had a little double chin, but honestly that did not matter to you. You left several kisses on his neck and jaw, sending warm electric shocks throughout the body of poor Tommy who was being intoxicated by the love you were giving him.

When you got in front of his face, you could see his eyes shining from him, due to the tears that were accumulating. Your smile vanished, now a worried expression took over your face, your hands went up to his cheeks, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall, you kissed each place where his tears had passed, internally wondering what was wrong with him.

Thomas lifted you up again as he pleased, now forcing me to straddle him, he wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you chest to chest, he buried his face in your neck, deciding to take as much of your love as he could, before that you realized that you were much, much too much for him.

You ran your ﬁngers over his scalp, massaging gently, he groaned in aﬃrmation at your actions.

Then you couldn't resist, you wanted to and you had to, you called him sweetly, this time not by his name, but by his nickname. "Honey, look at me please" you asked, he obediently did, looking into the eyes he had fallen in love with. "I want to kiss you, is that okay?" Very good, well done, you made our Thomas's heart stop, congratulations.

He wanted to, he really wanted to, but that meant taking off his mask, you could kiss with his mask on but he was afraid that would be awkward for you.

You sensed his insecurities and tried to reassure him as you lulled them to sleep.

"My love, do you want a kiss?" You asked calmly, he looked at you, nervously playing with his hands behind you, he nodded fearfully and you smiled. "You know that he would never be able to have you or hate you, right, love?" He thought about it for a few moments, ﬁnally nodding again.

"I want to kiss your face, baby. I want to give you all the love that you were deprived of because of your illness, I want to erase every insecurity you have about yourself. I will love for you everything you hate about yourself. I want to suffocate you with my love until you get tired. I want to be yours" you said sincerely, warming Tommy's loving heart even more. That was all he longed for.

He could trust you, he knew you would never do anything to hurt him in any way.

With his hands trembling, he removed the knot of his mask, sliding it down. The cold air hit his sensitive skin, he ﬁnally lifted his head, revealing how horrible, despicable and disgusting he was before his eyes.

You guarded against any strong emotion, trying not to upset him, surprised by his lack of a nose and the multiple scars on his cheeks, but you weren't afraid or disgusted.

Thomas didn't hear your screams, but he was already ready for your rejection, he opened his eyes

which he didn't know he had closed ﬁercely, and he saw your smile. He wondered the reason for your smile but didn't dare to ask.

"You're…so beautiful, Thomas" you complimented.

HA, is he beautiful? You must be delirious. "I'm serious, love. So, so handsome and strong" you commented kissing again, now from her bare cheeks. "And only mine, right?" You said as you reached for his earlobe.

A pleasant chill ran down his spine. Fiercely nodding to your question.

Hell yeah, he was all yours, you could do whatever you wanted with him, all he asked for in return was your love.

He felt pampered being claimed like this, by you, and his conﬁdence rose a little more.

You approached his lips, chapped from lack of hydration just like yours. One of your hands kept his cheek in its grasp while the other had lowered to his chest. Tommy moved his hands to your hips, squeezing them just a bit.

Plasmaste your lips on his, making both see and touch the sky, his own paradise of him.

They were both inexperienced, and that made it more romantic, you shared several kisses on his lips, causing him to let out a thick laugh that radiated pure happiness.

Both were in ecstasy, enjoying each other, the sweet animals were the witnesses

of the beginning of the purest, most honest and real love that ever existed.

just needed to be introduced and accepted by the Hewitt family

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