#But I couldn't find a quail I liked | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bonefall · 4 months

Note

are amphibians like newts and frogs considered aquatic? i know crustaceans & mollusks would be

Yes they are! Generally, the more time it spends on land, the closer it will be to 5 calories than 4. The estimate was actually based on frogs and tadpoles, I had to make an educated guess.

My best source was a feeding chart from a reptile food website which sells whole small prey for consumption by snakes. It perfectly lists out the values of dozens of small animals, but no fish. So I took a note of the 4 calorie estimate, observed that an adult frog increases in calories compared to tadpoles (bucking the trend with the others on the list where younger animals are worth more caloric value) and went on to do more research

I couldn't find a source that broke down WHOLE prey caloric value like the chart, so I ended up comparing caloric value between rabbit fillets, chicken fillets, and fish fillets on human-centric nutrition websites. My hypothesis was mostly consistent, even with more species added. Fish (perch, flounder, pike) < Wild Mammal (rabbit, squirrel) < Poultry (chicken, turkey, quail). There was overlap between "classes", certain fish getting over the 100 hump, but generally there was a trend I boiled down into 4/5/6

This is consistent with how a lot of fish meat is actually water. In fact, cats quench a lot of their thirst from the food they eat. I also learned some very interesting stuff about the fat distribution in fish which is going to blow a bit of a hole in some of my Clan culture stuff lmaoooo, but I'll furiously swim across that obliterated bridge when I get there

But funfact! Fish oil is rendered fish fats and it is the form that unsaturated fat takes, whereas lard is what saturated fats become. I need to do more research into this topic to understand what kind of difference it would make in a wild cat's diet.

There was one big bucked trend though: salmonid meat was WAAAAY higher in fat and calories. Like, absurdly high. Like 150 cal trout fillet vs 110 cal of rabbit fillet vs 88 cal of perch fillet.

I do not know why that is. My guess is that maybe it's because they were taking the number from farmed salmonids? Maybe it's because they're particularly fatty fish? Perhaps this is just the raw power of salmon slammin'.

Anyway, at one point I was trying to estimate exact caloric value per popular prey species, but decided I didn't have the "backing" to get so exact with the numbers since I was doing estimates with the fish. I'll do the work if it comes down to it, but for now, 4/5/6 is a quick, easy guideline you can use for just about any WC project.

#I was planning for Bb!RiverClan to be the guys who didn't cook much #Being quite snooty about it and insisting it's good for you #But it turns out they're actually at the highest risk of getting worms for that #Maybe I'll keep it for the irony because that sounds VERY funny #Cleric in the corner SOBBING because Waterpool just caught tapeworms for the 4th time #Willowpelt over in TC like ''I ALWAYS KNEW THEIR GLOSSY COATS WERE TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE!!''#No wonder her daughter Sorrel has a thing about worms lmaoo #I need to do more research but what I've come across here is that. Like. Actually?#A fish-only diet might cause a lot of really specific and pretty serious problems in RC #Another is that fish have so many micronutrients that some of the sites I visited were warning about some of those 'overdose' side effects.#The carp example was just the most interesting #I guess I had been assuming a lot based on the conception of fish as being 'the healthy meat'#Clan culture #Nutrition guide #Bone babble

76 notes · View notes

feral-ffa · 1 year

Text

Ever wondered how those instagram foodie account girls stay skinny even though they're eating 5 items from a different trendy restaurant every day?

You had idly wondered that, but most of all you just couldn't believe your luck when you finally sealed the deal with a cute and sweet rising star foodie.

The first time the two of you went out for a content shooting dinner, it was to a nice fusion sit down place. She told you she'd mostly just talk to her tripod. All you had to do was get some close up shots of crispy crusts and cheese pulls and then just not eat till she had all the footage she needed. Easy trade off for a free dinner with a beautiful girl!

When the waiter came around, she rattled off an order of two house cocktails, two apps, and three entrees, before turning to you and asking you to pick your favorite entree too. You obliged, ordering pineapple fried rice.

When the food came out, she started taking pictures and recording, and she was still working on the appetizers when the 4 big entrees came to the table. You did your best suppressing your hunger and helping her get the perfect shot of her sampling each dish. When she was done and told you to dig in, you both started devouring the still-warm food. But you had to state the obvious. "There's no way we can finish all this."

She waved you off. "We'll take the rest in to-go boxes. Not like it's going to waste."

Still, it seemed like a shame to not have the food hot and fresh out of the kitchen. She got full shortly, but you plugged on, finishing the entirety of the lettuce wraps and spring roll appetizers, both desserts she ordered, and the sweet and saucy pork adobo. It felt like you barely put a dent in the other dishes, so you got to go boxes.

As full as you felt leaving, the siren call of leftovers lured you to the fridge twice more that night.

~~~~~~~

And so it went, your girlfriend taking you to snack joints and restaurants to help film, and you doing your best to clean the plates after. You never truly could though, always bested by her choice of rich cuisines or gimmicky posts ranking every kind of cronut or rice dog a place offered.

Until you all went to a fancy prix fixe place she had fought to get reservations for. You each got five modest portions of perfectly cooked food and you cleaned yours up no problem. She had started to get winded by the meat course and only had half of her dessert.

"Finally a member of the clean plate club, huh?" she teased as she snapped a picture of the receipt.

"Well they give you those small fancy portions," you protested. "Two bites of quail. Two bites of steak. Three raviolis. Tastes good though."

She just laughed and gave you an affectionate pat on the tummy.

~~~~~~~

You did find yourself having to size up your clothes as the seasons changed, but again, you considered it a reasonable tradeoff for the pampered life you were now living.

"I hope you're ready for this," your girlfriend chided you on the way to the state fair in the summer. She was partnering with them for a series of 'everything I ate at the state fair' videos, which of course was actually going to be everything you ate.

You faithfully videoed her taking the first bite of what felt like a million little snacks, making sure to capture her reaction. Wide eyes at the cheese pull from a mozzarella stick, unimpressed at a dry turkey leg, laughing as she got a good angle to chomp down on tornado fries, smiling in pleasure at cherry topped funnel cake.

Soon as she was satisfied with the footage, she would pass the greasy treat off to you and drag you to the next line. You lost count of all the fair food you hurriedly plowed through that day, the hand dipped corn dogs, berry shortcakes, bbq sandwiches, and fried oreos.

The shoot ended with you finishing off a huge fresh squeezed cold lemonade she had taken one (1) sip of. It was the only thing you had room for, and you felt it filling in the gaps in your already food-stuffed gut. You waddled after her to the petting zoo, where she wanted to treat herself to some baby animal cuddles as a reward for getting all the footage and b-roll she needed before sundown.

Before you sat on the bench outside for a breather, you noticed your stuffed belly peeking out of your shirt. Sure you just ate nearly everything the fair had to offer, but this was a new XXL shirt! You glanced at her inside the pen, scratching a piglet behind the ears.

"The pigs are my favorite."

"Yeah, I bet."

~~~~~~~

You went ahead and bought new shirts and pants again. As time passed you got better at eating as much of your girlfriend's orders as possible in one sitting. You especially looked forward to when she did collab videos with her friends. They'd reserve a long table and it would be laden with over a dozen meals. You got to try everything, eat as much as you wanted of your favorites, and there would still be leftovers.

One night before going out to film at a sushi restaurant, she warned you, "this is a hand roll place and i booked us the omakase menu, it's $250 for 6 small bites."

You helped her get pics and enjoyed the delicious savory raw seafood, but she caught the downcast look on your face and the hand on your belly after you left.

"Don't tell me you're still hungry?"

"You aren't?"

"No, I actually finished every course. Even the miso soup."

"Well I'm used to cleaning up after you don't finish every course!" You wrapped your arms around her, and pulled her in close to whisper in her ear. "You always pick where we go, can I choose somewhere just this once?"

"Let me guess," she said as she leaned into your soft belly. "You want to stop at mcdonalds?"

So the two of you stopped at the drive thru, chatting and laughing in the car as you worked your way through a big bag of burgers and fries.

~~~~~~~

You continued to feel grateful for this lifestyle, but you were especially excited when your girlfriend told you she booked a reservation at Pina's Table, a new Italian restaurant that was already getting lots of buzz on the socials.

When you arrived for your reservation, both in nicer clothes for the opening weekend, you were shown to a intimate booth near the back. You felt a little nervous sliding in, as you could just barely fit. But before long you were more focused on the menu. After she ordered her usual sampler spread of two apps, two cocktails and three entrees, the waiter turned to you for your selection, and you decided to be bolder today.

"How about the chicken marsala. And the baked ziti."

Both of your selections looked so good when they arrived, you could barely stop drooling while filming her slicing open a burrata and tasting the spaghetti all'amatriciana. It felt like a million years passed before she gave you the OK to dig in.

You started off sampling a little bit of everything, and it was of course just as good as expected. You were enjoying a mouthful of ziti when the flash from her phone went off. Startled, you looked up. Had she forgotten to get a picture of something?

"Sorry," she blushed, putting her phone back down. "You're enjoying yourself so much, I just wanted to save it to remember."

You laughed. "If that's good, just wait till after I'm done."

You dug into the warm food, savoring the light burrata and tomato salad and the heavier mushroom ravioli and amatriciana. You ate with relish for what seemed like ages until you started to feel the table pushing into your swollen stomach.

Exhausted, you leaned back, against the soft booth, your fullness finally catching up to you. You subtly opened the top button of your pants, letting your belly flow out to bump the table again. There was still so much of each entree left....

You were spared from the eternal dilemma by the chef, a young and energetic guy, coming to the table to drop off a sampling of cannoli and gelato. Your girlfriend jumped up excitedly to shake his hand and take selfies, and passed the phone to you to you could take a couple pictures of them... after you struggled to haul yourself to your feet.

"Thank you so much for helping get the word out," she chef thanked her profusely. "Pina's Table is my baby. I'm thrilled how many people turned out for it."

"Thank you so much for inviting us!" Your girlfriend chirped in reply. "Everything was delicious."

"I'm thrilled you enjoyed it! It's a labor of love." The chef clapped her on the shoulder before turning to you. "And of course your seal approval means just as much too! Seems like you enjoyed, huh?" He gave your belly a playful poke.

"I wouldn't be where I am now without the belly behind the account," your girlfriend agreed, reaching over to give your tummy another squeeze, jostling out a small burp.

The pair of them shared another laugh and selfie before the chef left to go gladhand some other tables.

"Should we get the to-go boxes?" she asked, patting you gently on the butt as you squeezed yourself back into the booth.

"I think I have a little room left."

You pulled the plate of ravioli in front of you and started working on it again as she took a short video of the desserts.

'The belly behind the account,' huh? You could get used to that.

#soft feedism #weight gain #wg fiction #female feeder #feedee pov #gender-neutral feedee #which is not how i intended this but #i was scrolling foodie IG trying to go back to sleep in the middle of the night and when i couldn't i just got up and wrote this in one sho #without putting any consideration into pov or how long it wound up being #feral rantings #anyway hope u enjoy

396 notes · View notes

y0imiy9 · 4 months

Text

What would your art taste like?

Inspired by @solisflowersblog because she asked what her art would taste like and I got to cooking >:)

Explanation under the cut!

Sweet explanation:

Solisflower's art would taste like a raspberry compote custard tart with a dark chocolate crumble on top (couldn't find an image of just a crumble topping so imagine the crumble on the right is on top of the tart on the left)

(raspberry tart, chocolate crumble)

Her choice in brush colour influenced the reason why i chose raspberries. It's both sweet and sour, and has a gritty texture from the seeds. Personally, i actually don't like raspberries (texture issues), but i can appreciate the flavour when combined with other fruits or ingredients. Dark chocolate pairs extremely well with raspberries. Its rich and smooth texture beautifully balances out the tart flavours of raspberries, giving the perfect blend of flavours. Dark chocolate also represents Mizu in her artworks. Mizu has rich lore that goes deep, we've barely scratched the surface about her origin story so it felt fitting to include chocolate to describe Mizu.

A custard based tart perfectly describes Solisflower's art with the way she intentionally blocks out certain areas of her pieces with minimal details and colour. The smooth and silky texture of custard best represents this. Though you're not drawn to the custard due to it's simplicity, it holds a lot of weight as it helps deliver the other striking ingredients. This is best shown in the Akemi artwork where she intentionally uses minimal details on the hair and clothes to better direct your attention to her face and hands.

The dark chocolate crumble i mentioned best describes the crosshatching shading style she uses in majority of her art. The sketchy look adds a lot of texture and variation while also making her pieces look visually interesting and crumchy (been snacking on crackers lately and i imagine eating victorian era mizu, as seen above). I really enjoy her use of insane details and basic blocking of shapes to best enhance the subject (mizu) in her pieces.

In conclusion, Solisflower's artworks has a perfect balance of striking and rich flavours, the sourness of raspberries and richness of dark chocolate. The added texture of silky custard and gritty dark chocolate crumble greatly enhances her pieces, with the consistent use of shading and blocking that gives an interesting variation in all her artworks.

Savoury explanation:

On the other hand, her art would taste like a nut (pecan, walnut or pistachios) and herb panko crusted salmon with a creamy lemon sauce. It took me a while to think about what kind of protein best fit Mizu since she's the main subject matter in almost all of Solisflower's artwork. Her art doesn't give off beef vibes, and chicken didn't feel right either. Her art is more delicate, though you could argue that with her style of shading it gives poultry energy, a quail maybe, but i personally think fish best describes the delicate nature of each brushstroke that is laid onto the canvas.

(pecan panko crusted salmon, panko crusted salmon)

Her use of crosshatching for shading greatly reminded me of the flaky layers of fish. The layers and delicate nature of fish represents each singular brushstroke that makes up majority of her pieces which adds lots of texture and variation in her art. The addition of a panko crust is because of the type of brush she uses which adds a lot of grain and a sketchy, almost rustic look. Fish dishes aren't complete without a sauce and a creamy lemon sauce best describes the solid areas of her pieces. It gives the perfect balance and enhances her art in a way that uplifts the important details of her artworks.

I chose simple flavours to represent Solisflower's artwork. This is because i'm more drawn to her use of texture and minimal colour that she uses in her pieces. Herb and lemon flavour combinations are a good pair that best describes her art as it enhances the flavour of fish (MIzu). In the example of the art above, her subtle use of blue adds a small but striking variation in her piece but it doesn't draw away from the subject itself, but enhances it.

In conclusion, Solisflower's art has the perfect balance of texture that i love so much. I'm such a sucker for sketchy, clean lineart art styles because the variation of line thickness and the grain of the brushes used tickles the right part of my brain. I'd eat her art up like i've been starved for several days. If her art were a restaurant i'd give her 3 Michelin stars <3.

If any artist would like me to compare their art to food, please let me know! I need to do something with my culinary degree once i get it lmfao.

#solisflowerblog #mizu #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai fanart #what would art taste like #i like comparing art to food #i wish all fanart was edible #i wanna take the fattest bite out of the victorian era mizu fanart so bad it's not even funny

41 notes · View notes

fallenclan · 7 months

Note

OHH MYRTLEPAW BELOVED... DELIGHT in how you draw them / their general vibe they're soso cute :3. I think he and Mistlekit should get to bond over similar names. Him and Bristleheart too maybe, in that they're in the nursery at the same time and Mistle is probably pretty lonely... Similar names former loner solidarity ! Admittedly all the basis I have for this is that, but I do think it'd be cute... Especially with Mistle having been left behind, the idea of him having some older cats with similar experiences (confident and charismatic, too! More likely to reach out...) as a support system charms me a lot.

. OH MY GOD I FORGOT THISTLE . SHE FITS NEAR PURRFECTLY AS WELL... Former kittypet, but I think there's still a similarity :} and through him, Boulderstep; Bristle's kits through him and the nursery in general, likely Bub through Myrtlepaw as another former loner if they get on well, so on...

(Bashful gesture) heheh, apawlogy, the thought of a kid all on his own in an intimidating new world finding bonds and solidarity with the cats around him enough to feel safe and secure there in them got me. He's imaginative, he probably spends a fair deal of time in his own head, I picture him as kind of quiet myself, but the thought of him going from spending nights staring up at the sky and wondering after his mom, hoping she'll come back for him, to hearing stories from Bristleheart (the truth stretched just a Little for the sake of a good story, commentated on by Night and Quail for as long as they can stay awake to listen), or about apprentice training from Myrtle (with his current injury, I can imagine a kinda cute little "haha, maybe our tails'll match soon" exchange), or from Thistle about her time adjusting to clan life, maybe even from Boulder about different clans, and so on...

(.AND BRISTLE AND MYRTLE MIGHT HAVE TIME TO BOND BC MYRTLE'S HAVING AN INJURY LOOKED AFTER!! Charismatic & confident >:D KAHAHAA...)

(draping myself kittyishly across a nearby structure, staring up at the sky) I wonder if he still thinks about his mom, even after time has passed, the wound's less fresh... He's imaginative. I wonder if he tries to think up stories about what she might be doing, adventures she could be going on, so dangerous she couldn't risk bringing him. Maybe someone nudged him towards it, some quiet conversation in which he bared his heart, looking for guidance - "What do you think she's doing now?" A way to keep her in his heart, without it hurting as much. He probably understands what actually happened, to some degree. Someday, if not now. (Personally, I concur with the thought that she gave him up because she knew she was going to die soon.) Still, the story persists... She might end up more a character than a memory, at some point, but sometimes that's how things happen. He keeps her with him. I think he might write stories if he were a person. Maybe he'll tell them to some kit himself, someday...

SORRY. ^ THOUGHT TOO MUCH.

ANYWAY!!! MISC THOUGHTS. I think Bristleheart is probably pretty respectable as a medic, just divorced from the holy aspect that clan cats associate with the role. Maybe as a loner, he had to focus more on prevention than treatment - likely limited stores of herbs if any, less cats to have to care for, therefore more of a "take advantage of what you have/can find when you need, before things get worse" approach. It's impractical for a clan of so many cats to have each cat have some travelling herbs occasionally (or so, vague example) in the months they know sickness is more likely (to bolster their immune systems, or so), but not so bad an idea when you're just taking care of your kittens, or giving some cat who came to see you and herb and advice, you know? He'd probably have to relearn some things in a clan setting, but I think he'd contribute good, new ideas just as surely. Sunwish had to learn everything from scratch, after all - she knew a lot, by the end, and definitely enough to keep the clan afloat for a long while, but she didn't know every plant around the area! Certainly not those beyond the clan's borders. I think Bristle's knowledge certainly won't rival it - there's bound to be overlap, after all, and Fallenclan's medicine cats have figured out a lot - but it'll be a definitely handy addition! A new perspective... As far as character goes, I think he's pretty respectable. Some combination of "fake it til you make it" and genuinely just being sure in what he does. He does what he does well. (SIDENOTE: HIS FANGS AND HIS KITTENS HAVING ONE EACH ARE REALLY, REALLY CUTE...) And I think his kits have inherited that, a little! They don't really have a reason to believe things won't work out, because he's been doing all he can to make sure they do. He seems reliable to me.

Myrtlepaw... I think they're cute <3 a little unsure of things, but he's finding his feet okay, being charismatic probably doesn't hurt. I'll have to wait a see a little more of what they're like! :3

(BONUS: If Bub DID get sort of close with Mistle through Myrtle it is very very cute to me to consider him reflecting on it as practice if him and Willow ever have kits.) (. If they have had kits and I have somehow fully forgotten I am So Sorry,)

ALSO. OHHHHGHGH BRAMBLE FIC... MOSS AND SALMON FIC.... WE'RE EATING WELL RECENTLY IM HOWLING AND WAILING ABOUT BOTH

AND SALMON KITS!!! AWWWW... HELL YEAH HELL YEAH HELL YEAH

(- 🐈‍⬛) (. This is so long. I Am So Sorry,)

"the thought of a kid all on his own in an intimidating new world finding bonds and solidarity with the cats around him enough to feel safe and secure there in them got me" AUGHHHHHHHHHHH BLACK CAT YOU ARE DRIVING ME TO INSANITYYYY THIS IS SO CUTE

you are so so right btw. and the idea of Bub taking Mistle under his wing is so adorable aughh

#so many thoughts #fallenasks #black cat anon

23 notes · View notes

friendlybowlofsoup · 8 months

Note

I have a question that might be spoilers (?) But can I ask the reason for each of the ROs origin species? Minus the humans ofc, but like, why is Go Ro a camellia, or why is Spider a spider? I also don't know Chinese/east asian symbolism, so I was wondering if there was more to it. Thanks soup!

Ah, I feel like I might have answered this before, or something similar, but I couldn't find the post, so I will answer again! If someone does find an older post for this, feel free to correct me though (ノ= ⩊ = )ノ

But yes, Nonnie, the origins of the relevant ROs were very much deliberate! I won't explain the exact connections, but here are the basic meanings/connotations for each:

Quails are ground birds usually seen in rural areas, so they have the reputation of being hardy, brave or of great fighting spirit. In art, they can also familial/marital harmony, as they live in small flocks and mate for life.

Peonies enjoy a very elevated status in Chinese culture as the King of Flowers (花王) and can represent everything from wealth and noble prosperity to love and feminine beauty. Yet despite that loftiness, they are also representative of young innocence and the happiness of girls.

Bears, as they are in mythology, are protectors of divine realms, and are capable of transformation into great warriors (such as in Journey to the West). They are often tied to the element of Earth, which generates Metal and regulates, or is muddied by, Water.

Lotuses represent purity, above all else. White-pink blooms among mud and rain. They are often seen in Buddhist art, text, and descriptions, and as such have heavy times to rebirth, ascension and faith.

Camellias are, commonly, symbols of marriage, because when they wither, their petals (seen as feminine) and sepals (seen as masculine) fall together. However in Japan, this way of falling off the stem whole, instead of petal-by-petal like other flowers, represent a clean, honorable death.

Spiders are rather auspicious, and are said to bring happiness, energy and good luck. In quite a few depictions and sayings, spiders and spiderwebs are omens of salvation. That said, on a separate note, Spider Demons, in Journey to the West and other myths, often shapeshift into beautiful, flesh-eating women.

#worldbuilding #RO Ask

48 notes · View notes

kedreeva · 10 months

Note

Quail genetics question! I think you've posted about some of your breeding group before, though I can't find the post now. But iirc the male looked like he had the roux dilute, which is a sex linked gene! Have you noticed any color correlation in his babies with non-roux hens? Their daughters should be lighter, like him, and their sons darker.

I haven't looked into color genetics at all for these guys yet, aside from looking at lethal or problematic genes, so I'm afraid I couldn't say. Honestly, I want to get rid of all the color morphs and work with the pharaoh wild type, just with the celadon egg gene.

#quail #asks

17 notes · View notes

satan-chillin · 1 year

Text

Stasis

Eru's summon of Mairon was a long time coming.

For Angbang Week Day 1: The Timeless Halls

Also in Ao3

❅ ❅ ❅

Mairon had not expected the return of sensation.

He had wandered and existed as a wisp, a mere, quailing spark of what had been once a bright flame. Not quite death that he had only known second-hand, though not quite living either. Either in the middle of both or nowhere at all.

And yet here he was in Eru’s Timeless Halls, his senses returned to him as if given a physical form once more. If given the chance to inspect it closely, he might find it resembling the one he had made in that time that could be a distant one in the past or in the future, depending on the when Eru would thrust him out.

If.

There was a single logical reason why he was suddenly called into His halls.

Eru called to him, with a name long-forgotten and what had started his very being. Mairon was grateful for the solidity of his given form, if only for the grasp of stability it had offered as he stood against the all-encompassing presence of his Creator.

The last time he had stood in front of Him, it had been to face his wrath and his waves. As easy He had stripped him of one of his aspects then was as easy he had remade him now.

Mairon found no voice to answer with in return, his form holding but buzzing at the edges. Like one wrong shift and it would fall over and unmake him.

Child.

It could have only been from the sum of tongues created and the not-yet, but Mairon couldn't mistake the meaning, letting the intent wash over him.

So he was still one of His Children. Something threatened to give within Mairon.

“Father,” he said, inadequate.

Mairon, it is time to decide.

In the face of his sudden incredulity, Mairon wanted to laugh. “You’re giving me a choice.”

As I did to those who came here before you.

Mairon scoffed. “I’m certain that Melkor did not choose to be thrown in the Void.”

No, but he chose which path to follow past that.

He held into the minute gesture of blinking. With a shuddering tone, Mairon asked, “What choice was that?”

The silence echoed itself, reminding Mairon that he wasn’t in the position to question Eru’s will nor what had transpired between Him and Melkor. He wanted to laugh at the unfairness of it all; at his own dismay of not knowing at all what had happened to the Vala he had bound himself with in all the ways that should have mattered.

A marriage of thought and spirit, though with a link that had been silent for several ages with only Mairon futilely holding on. Perhaps the connection itself had merely existed on Mairon’s end, a one-way illusion that he had made.

The forces of the Valar had made it seem that the Void was Melkor’s eternal punishment for his marring, that dragging him in chains and closing the Doors of the Night on Melkor was the end of it. Mairon would wager that even they did not know of Eru’s offer following his imprisonment.

Because of course, of course Eru would reward Melkor. He would reward the Child who had unwittingly followed Eru’s intended Song. Chaos and Destruction were Melkor’s opus, but they were naught but Eru’s Composition dedicated to him, His most favored one.

Would that make Mairon the most disobedient one then? For orchestrating schemes that went out of hand where one had even required Eru’s rare intervention?

“Am I to choose between obliteration and imprisonment?” If Mairon was the intended eternal prisoner of the Abyss and not Melkor, there was nothing that he could do about it.

Exhaustion was all that had been left in him. A weariness that seeped into this temporary form, down into the very fiber of what remained in his being. He had poured what there was in so small a thing, precious and gone, and with it were his anger and capacity for sorrow.

Eru’s visage began to shift: a certain nebula situated atop His many eyes burst. A string of Borealis cast a warm glow over Mairon. It wasn’t difficult to imagine a thousand more worlds created, and a thousand more destroyed. All from a simple movement.

Mairon was then swept in a sensation of taking a step toward an ingress that appeared on the pad of one of Eru’s limbs. Dark and full of uncertainty, but Mairon knew it wasn’t this; to enter or remain in the halls was not yet the choice he was supposed to make.

Go forth. I will know which it will be.

Mairon crossed, and for a moment, he thought he saw his Creator smile.

❅ ❅ ❅

He knew this place.

A little more to his left would be a sheer fall from a cliff. Almost a precipice, though not as much as what the statement posed.

“Come with me,” was the soft imploring tone of Melkor, a familiar distant chord of the past.

Mairon had been here at this moment, once. He had readily said yes then—for there would be no other Vala that his Song would resonate with no matter how many times he was unmade and remade—and wondered why Eru thought he would say otherwise now, if this truly was the point where he had to make his choice.

But he had lived that path and was diminished for it, and, unsurprisingly, he found that it was the knowing that was frightening.

Mairon’s silence lingered, causing a peculiarity on Melkor’s fair face. Not fury, nor confusion, nor uncertainty but rather…

Oh.

A small smile crossed Melkor’s features, one close to relief, and in this particular light, he looked carefree, with a settling calm that eased Mairon’s doubts.

“Is it you? Truly.”

“For a while now, yes,” Melkor said with a light hum. His fingers seemed to keep rubbing circles on Mairon’s hands. His awe was a wondrous thing to behold, and more so was his disbelief. “You really are here,” he murmured with a tremor. “I thought this moment is to be my everlasting punishment, and over and over I have to see you forget and remember none in the next waning of light.”

His voice trailed off briefly, before: “I’m sorry, Mairon. When the lamplight wanes and waxes anew and you forget, again I will ask for your forgiveness.”

“Fool,” Mairon whispered against his lips. Like Melkor, his eyes couldn’t seem to stop memorizing his face unburdened. “You ask me to come with you. Always you know I will follow.”

The invitation was clear in the squeeze of his hand, and while Melkor pulled away, his hold did not slack, unmoving and waiting for him.

“Take us away,” Mairon said, meeting him halfway.

The wind swayed gently in the next beat, roaming past the cliffs, along the shores, to the roaring waves of the Great Sea, and toward the far ends of Arda.

The same wind nor Arda itself would not know of Mairon and Melkor again, and where they vanished, only Eru knew.

#mairon #sauron #melkor #morgoth #angbang #Angbang Week 2023 #Angbangweek2023 #fanfic #silm fanfic

21 notes · View notes

softquietsteadylove · 1 year

Note

For Thenamesh Beauty and the Beast AU!

Thena and Gil are living peacefully until one day her past life knocks on the door. And they have something planned for Thena!

"Gil?"

"Yeah, hon?" he chuckled, standing from tending to the fire. But he came to a colder realisation as he saw what she did. "Who's this?"

"I thought you would know," she muttered back, also staring at the very short man at their door. She stepped back from it as the smaller figure charged right in, the tails of his very fine coat bouncing as he did.

"My name is Pip, good sir," he grinned at them. Thena gravitated back to Gil's side. "I have come in search of the Lady Thena."

Gil reached for Thena's hand. He had a terrible feeling about the well dressed little hairball addressing them. "And what exactly do you want with her?"

Pip barely gave him so much as a look. "Well, her family has been searching for her, sir."

Gil scoffed, finally getting the valet's attention. "How hard could they have been looking?--she was in the same place they left her for years."

"Decades," Thena added to her own circumstances for herself. She also eyed the small man with caution. "I believed that I was the last of our family."

"Well..."

Gil moved from holding Thena's hand to placing his hand on her back. She didn't seem particularly surprised to have - more or less - confirmation that she was the last of her family. He tilted his head at her. "You okay?"

"That is quite enough!"

Gil scowled at the little nuisance, now walking even further into his home without a care or so much as a welcome. "What?"

"You must unhand the lady!" Pip attempted to insert himself between them, only to find himself dodging Thena's swinging feet, like a horse shooing a pest.

She nearly kicked him right in the head. "I don't know you! You just came barging into Gil's home!"

He straightened his fine jacket, "my Lady, you are of noble birth. You cannot be left to associate with the likes of... "

Gil flushed faintly, half indignance, and half sheepishness. "I'm a, uh, a-a tailor."

"A tailor?!" the footman gasped in absolute horror.

Thena rolled her eyes at it. "I think you should leave."

He now looked even more aghast. "My Lady, please, I have been sent in search of you!"

"Sent?" Gil raised a brow at that. If Thena's family was all gone, then who had sent this little monstrosity to find her? He looked at Thena, who he could tell was resisting the urge to bare her teeth and growl at him.

"My Lord will be here shortly!"

"Huh?"

Gil had to laugh faintly. This little creep kept calling Thena her Ladyship, but the fact was that she had raised herself alone in a castle with wild ptarmigans and quails. She had even worse manners than he did.

"And then you shall be away to your wedding!"

The room came to a full stop, all the air standing still as the dust settled. Pip looked at both of them, seeming very happy to have delivered such shattering news. Thena looked at Gil, shaking her head.

"I-I don't-" she stuttered, looking truly afraid, as if storm clouds heavy with thunder were on the horizon. She took a step back in sheer reflex. "I can't-"

"Nonsense, my Lady," Pip laughed with what now seemed like a more threatening glee. "My Lord has been thinking of marrying you since he was but a boy. You shall be most happy with him!"

"They promised her when they were kids?" Gil said more sharply to the little butler staring at them. Thena anchored herself beside him again. Entirely subconsciously, he wrapped his arm around her.

"It is standard practice for noble families, sir."

Gil didn't take that tone lying down. "Eager to break that curse, huh?"

Pip bristled.

"Yeah, I know all about it," Gil tipped his chin up at him. Maybe he was saying too much, but he certainly wasn't going to let this little cretin drag Thena away, much less to some wedding (her wedding). "Generations of kids and they couldn't break it."

Pip straightened his posture, "we hope to be the remedy for that, sir."

"Indeed we do."

Yet another stranger let himself into the cabin, even more beautifully dressed than his valet. His hair was long and stood quite tall on his head. He certainly looked like a nobleman.

Thena tilted her head at him, visibly making a face as she tried to remember him.

"Thena," he smiled, not even glancing at Gil, "my love!"

Gil bristled. Thena moved to clinging to his arm.

"My beloved Thena, after all these years!" He continued to advance on them, unwelcome body language unheeded. He held his hands in front of him, a wide smile on his face.

"Decades," she added, although he looked so overjoyed to hear her voice that she clung to Gil even tighter.

"Look, I don't-" Gil held out his hand to keep him away, but the guy just grabbed and started shaking it.

"I am Lord Eros of Titan, good sir," he beamed at Gil. "And I thank you for keeping my bride safe for however long."

Gil was still digesting the 'bride' part. He looked at Thena as she nudged him. He secured his hand at the bend of her waist. "Like I said, I-"

"You are a tailor, are you not?" Eros plowed right through his attempts to speak. He was still smiling, still exuding a certain charm. This was the way of a nobleman, Gil supposed. "The people in town speak most highly of you. Why, you shall have to fashion Thena's wedding dress for us!"

"What?!"

Gil levelled the taller but more spindly man with a glare, "I won't be doing that."

"Speak properly to his Lorship!" Pip raged from below them.

"Eros," Thena spoke up from Gil's side. "I'm not going with you."

"My sweet?" he finally - finally! - looked at her. Maybe he did have an iota of self-awareness as he took in her unsettled expression. He angled himself away from Gil and to her, despite their close proximity. "No need to fear, my dearest."

"I'm not-" Thena startled as Eros moved swiftly to brush his hand against her cheek.

"We shall-!" His Lordship snapped his hand back as Thena turned her head to bite his outstretched hand. All she really sank her teeth into was glove, but it did the trick. "Are you mad?!"

Gil smiled to himself. No matter how nervous Thena could be around strangers, she wasn't just going to let this bastard get away with something like that.

"I'm not going," Thena said more firmly, returning to holding onto Gil's arm. "I live here, now."

"With..." Eros' eyes dragged away from Thena and to Gil's scowling face, "him?"

"The tailor?"

"Yes," Thena glowered at both strangers, pulling Gil further back from them. "He actually found me, unlike you. He actually helped me with the curse, unlike you."

"Does that mean-"

"And he actually knows me!" she continued, shouting just to spite their little interruption. "So you two can shove off!"

The Lord and his little squire had obviously never been cursed at.

"My Lord, we must tend to your hand," Pip turned, beginning to usher Eros out the door. "If she has been living here with the tailor then perhaps she is...well...no longer reserved."

Gil felt as if he could wretch. But he kept his protests quiet; a small price to pay for having them out of his damn house.

Eros did relent to Pip's pushing and waving, although he looked over his head to Thena again. "I will return, my beloved!"

Thena just watched as the door was pulled. She listened to the sound of a carriage being jostled before hoof beats finally filled the air. She sighed, "of all the visitors."

"Are you okay?" Gil asked before the hoof beats were even gone. He rubbed her back, letting her wilt against him after the excitement/fright of it all.

She nodded, turning her face in against his arm.

"Hey," He whispered, moving to fully embrace her as she tried to ignore the issue for the time being. He let her dig her nails into his chest, kissing the top of her head. "It's okay. You're not going anywhere."

"Hm," she sighed sweetly, and he could hear her smile in it. Her tail would be wagging, if it could.

#Thenamesh Beauty and the Beast AU #I am so glad to continue this one!!#I wasn't sure how far I would take it #but I always knew that it would turn out that Thena was from nobility #maybe distant royalty #and someone would come looking for her #and finally I get to use Pip #for the nuisance he is #although I do love how we all just ignore that ugly little abomination for the most part #Thena is positively feral #and I love that for her #the year she spent with Gil in the castle did wonders don't get me wrong #very canonical Beauty and the Beast #but she definitely still does things like eats with her hands #forgets please and thank you #slurps her soup #Gil corrects her sometimes but he also thinks it's really cute

12 notes · View notes

sam-glade · 1 year

Text

OCs as Animals Tag

Tagged by the lovely @kittensartswriting here. Thank you💜

Tagging gently: @captain-kraken @sunset-a-story @j-1173 and also open tag.

Rules: Choose any Oc/s and pick an animal that relates to them and why. You can also include images or drawings of your own but don't have to.

~*~

You know what, it's high time I defined the familiars for the bunch from The Truth Teller. Thank you for the motivation! The familiar spirits of the Days of Dusk cast can be found here.

*a couple of hours of dredging through references later*

Ok, I've got this. Disclaimer: subject to change as the project progresses.

Rilna - quail

She's a kind, innocent soul who gets pulled into the criminal underworld Alice-through-the-looking-glass style, and and at the same time is cursed to be unable to lie (the eponymous Truth Teller). Also, a little chubby and unassuming.

I really wanted her to have a raven or an owl as her familiar spirit, but damn, all of the cool birds Eastern Europe are harbingers of doom.

Quails are seen as friendly and rather sedentary, sometimes argumentative, often noisy chatty. Also, don't you just want to hug this adorable birb?

Sieran - Eurasian Lynx

Sieran is the maltreated enforcer who hasn't decided yet whose side he's on.

I honestly couldn't find any solid sources on how lynx was seen in folklore. Still, I feel like this solitary and in general silent predator fits Sieran very well.

Lirivan - Barn swallow

Lirivan is the compassionate healer who entertains the dream of being a stand-up comedian.

Swallows are associated with good health and luck. The presence of a swallow nest in a barn protects the animals from diseases, and a swallow nesting on the house will fend off fire. Conversely, hurting a swallow or destroying its nest brings misfortune (and if anyone hurts Lirivan... let's just say, it would be extremely unwise).

#OCs as animals tag #tag game #writeblr tag game #the truth teller

12 notes · View notes

unhingedselfships · 1 year

Text

One Morally Questionable Man Helps Girl Poorly Cope With Past Trauma by Way of Very Bad Coping Mechanisms

CW : past CSA mention

She curled further into the corner she'd claimed, and kept her eyes locked on the man who'd brought her here. Nerves frayed already, she found it hard pressed to be more unsettled, yet she couldn't help but feel out of place. Even on her best days, she was no match for a place like this.

Why he'd chosen somewhere so… high end, was beyond her, but much of Kenshi was. Certainly the place had a dress code, yet here she was, in space cat pj pants, a clingy tye-dye tank top, and old beat up slip on shoes of indeterminate color. Her worn sherpa hoodie was currently acting as something of a security blanket, her fidgety hands picking at the fluff.

She certainly looked no match for the dashing gentlemen and stunning ladies more standard to a place like this. All carefully curated and glittering in the night glamour.

Amazing what money could do, she laughed internally.

She watched him work his magic, charisma cranked to eleven, speaking to who she could only assume was the manager, gesturing in her direction, finding that flawless balance of authority and sympathy, smoothing over her presence as his guest.

Absently she wondered if anyone here knew him. What they'd think. Probably be good for his reputation she imagined. Good kind Kadokura, taking care of this poor distraught young woman, who'd clearly been through something just ever so terrible.

Or maybe they'd think the worst. An older man plying a vulnerable woman in distress with strong drinks and charm. She snorted at the thought, sure he could charming but he had no interest in that, and certainly not with her.

The internal laughter took on a note of hysteria, spiralling out her control again

The shaking still hadn't stopped. She wondered if it ever would. It was starting to ache, the constant tensing from the way her muscles trembled. Her head was spinning again, and she couldn't focus, suddenly Kenshi seemed miles further than he just had been.

Her chest tightened, heart fluttering and it was getting hard to breathe. Why was it so hard to breathe?

Startling as a glass slid into her view, she looked up from the colorful drink to the man she'd turned to, half begged to help her, his calculating, and perhaps a bit cautious she thought, look pinning her in place.

"I want to talk about it. I don't know if I can."

She felt all at once smothered by it, and like she would burst with it, yet a strange sense of impending doom took hold the moment she thought to open up.

Even Daigo had had to mostly put it together himself, reading the court transcripts and what little she could say.

("I was the first, I- I was the first.")

"Few more of those, and I'm sure you won't have any trouble at all."

She reached for it then, sliding it across the table top towards herself, but hesitated to lift. Her fingers still trembled and she didn’t want to spill any.

With a put upon sigh, Kadokura produced a straw, dropping it in her glass with a distinctive metal on glass clink.

“Do you have any idea, the look the bartender gave me when I asked him for a straw?” the glare he shot her was betrayed by the tilt of his lips, faux-irritation playing across his face.

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” she mumbled back at him, taking a sip, and humming at the taste.

Overly sweet, excessively fruity, sugar and tartness likely masking something far stronger than one would expect. He knew her taste, or rather, distaste for alcohol. It wasn’t surprising he’d pick the perfect thing for her.

She’d sucked down about half the glass, the first of several she was sure, before she slid her phone over from where she’d sat it. Unlocking the screen and navigating between tabs, he watched her, relaxed, but vigilant. Most people would likely have quailed under the scrutiny, but she found some strange comfort in it. He was cataloging her every tick, and deciding the best way to react. It was calculated. It was careful.

Staring at the screen, something haunted and pained in her eyes, he still waited, more patience than he’d give most people. A deep shuddering breath, and she passed him the small device.

“Ah, so this is what Daigo meant,” he noted, tilting his head, eyeing her over the phone.

“I. It’ll make it a little easier? Maybe? I think. If you already have some context. I can’t. I don’t know where to start. To explain everything. If you already know something…” she trailed off.

He hummed and focused on the page she’d left it open to. A court transcript. Easy enough. He cocked a brow at the 126 consecutive year sentence. It wasn’t the longest he’d ever heard, but was still fairly impressive. His face shifted into displeasure, as he continued reading the details. He was by no means a moral paragon, not that he ever bothered to concern himself with morality at all, but even he found these sorts of things distasteful. He wasn’t above using threats of such to manipulate people, but the act itself was… Beneath him. To each their own, he supposed. As long as their own didn't effect him, at any rate.

“Did you know the girls?” his first assumption. It would make it seem something of an over reaction but it was an easy enough explanation.

Shaking her head, she chewed her lip, fingers tapping against the glass. A few tears slipped over her cheeks and she took a deep shuddering breath.

“Was it my fault?”

Well that wasn’t what he’d expected at all. And was also a bit confusing. He was trying to puzzle out how any of what was described could have anything to do with her, much less be her fault. He turned the facts he had over in his head, before settling on a conclusion. Daigo’s rage seemed to be the key here, to understanding what she wasn’t giving him.

“How, exactly, would any of this be your fault, Kimi-chan?” he rode a fine line between patience and condescension. A note of ‘I think you’re stupid but I’m willing to walk you through how and why’. It was a tone he often took with her, when she came at him with her absurdity.

“I. I was the first,” her eyes were somewhere between vacant and distant, her voice quivering.

He knew what she meant, and he didn’t like it. It wasn’t a mere implication, that would have been kinder. Easier to pretend. It grated, how difficult she made it to pretend to be unaffected and careless. Some part of him damned her some days, for worming her way in.

“It was nearly 20 years ago. I was seven. I think. Around then. I don’t remember that time very well. Snippets. Random things that happened. But it was all kind of a…” she trailed off for a moment, “a blur I suppose. A nebulous ‘early elementary school years’ idea.”

She was babbling. She did that when she was upset and having trouble articulating. He’d gotten good at parsing through her nonsense to get to the core of what she was trying to say.

And he still didn’t like the core of what she was saying. Decades past regardless, she was his now, and he didn’t like people damaging his things.

“I still fail to see how that has anything to do with this… man’s, actions.”

“I could have- I should, have said something. Maybe then-” she cut herself, speaking in fits and starts now.

Her condition was worsening, and Kadokura tapped at the table in agitation. Not with her, mind, though it may have been easier to just blame her and move on. There was no quick and easy solution to this. He couldn’t just fix her, and that grated.

“Would it have made any difference?”

Her eyes shot up to meet his, wide and somewhere between confusion and distress. At least she was present again, he supposed.

“Wha-”

“Would it have mattered? Who could you have told? Who would have believed you?”

“I- Mom would hav-”

“What could she have done? Really?”

She worried at her lower lip, brow furrowed and breath hitching.

“It’s awfully self absorbed of you to think any of this had anything to do with you.”

He stabbed right through and she nearly choked on a gasp. She held his gaze, her pain meeting his neutrality. He wasn’t being careless, she could see it in the lines of his body, his agitation. Irritation. He was being blunt. Forward and matter of fact. He wouldn’t let her carry her “silly” delusions. There was no logic to her thoughts, and they both knew it. The unfeeling truth may not fix it, but at least it cemented it.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Why are you apologizing.”

There was something in his tone that read more demand than question.

“I don’t- For- I just-”

“Don’t. Don’t apologize for nothing. Drink. Drink until you can’t feel, and you can figure out what you want to do, tomorrow. That’s what you wanted isn’t it?”

She clutched at her glass, and stared into the unnatural color, shoulders trembling.

He seemed tense, somewhat uncomfortable, before settling. He pried one of her hands loose, and gave it a firm but gentle squeeze.

“Let go. Get completely wasted. I’ll make sure you get home.”

Waving a waiter over, he ordered her another, and the rare moment of tenderness passed.

He may not be the best at showing it most of the time, but he cared, in his way.

She knew with a certainty she couldn’t explain, that he meant it. She could trust him. He would keep her safe for the night.

Polishing off the first, she plopped the straw into the second and started on it right away, as Kadokura slowly sipped at his first for the night. One of the few he’d allow himself while “babysitting” the distressed girl.

Her face was interesting to watch. Micro changes to macro ones. She was fascinatingly expressive. Pain flittering into frustration, morphing into confusion, settling into regret. Anger and sorrow and grief and shit, she was so terribly human.

The trembles picked back up, and her eyes faded into something, somewhere, distant, absent. He tapped a knuckle lightly under her eye, on the ridge of her cheek bone, ignoring the way she jolted, eyes suddenly wild, before refocusing and her whole being relaxing, just barely.

“It's. I’m. I hate this,” she ground her teeth.

He cocked his head at her, “Very articulate, Kimberly.”

She bristled, “Do you have t-” she cut herself off, “I’m trying ok!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he held his hands up in surrender.

With a deep shuddering breath, she held the straw aside, and chugged down the drink. Even with the sweetness, the alcohol was still certainly present, and she grimaced. She tugged the straw out and slid the glass aside. Kadokura absently waved at one of the bartenders, eyes never leaving her face.

Tears welled and overflowed, “Why is this so hard? I don’t- I don’t understand why I can’t just- How fucking hard is it to just say! Hey, my father sucked and didn’t keep me safe and his best friend’s kid molested me and I wouldn’t- couldn’t- say anything because I thought it was my fault, and I felt so ashamed, and so gross, and years later when I could at least logically acknowledge that was wrong even if it still felt like it, I thought hey he’ll grow out of it, it was a one off, he was just a teen, and now he’s done this-” she gestured violently at the phone sitting to his side, “and I- I know you think it's dumb but I blame myself and I don’t know how to be ok.”

Her breathing was labored, strained. She hadn’t raised her voice like he’d expected but rather slid into a rambling hysterical whisper. He’d pieced the broad strokes together earlier, but now he could start filling in the finer details.

“Feel better?” “No.”

An elbow on the table, he rested his head in a hand and eyed her. She fidgeted slightly under his hawkish stare.

“Unfortunately, you won’t ever be ok,” he used his free hand to make air quotes around the word, “None of us will. That’s not how things work.”

He threw back a larger swig than he had been, before relaxing again, “You’re a stubborn woman. You’ll keep going regardless. You don’t know how to do anything else. Drink. Keep drinking. Lose yourself for the night. Tomorrow we’ll start making decisions.”

“Decisions?” she furrowed her brow at him, never quite meeting his gaze.

“You have choices sweetheart. Options. It’d be my pleasure to help.”

Her mouth formed a soft “oh” and she considered what the breadth of options Kadokura Kenshi could offer would be.

He tapped her cheek again, “Tomorrow,” and slid the fresh drink her way, and she eyed it for a moment, unable to discern when exactly it had even arrived.

He watched her sway as she sipped, the effects of the drinks she’d already gone through inadvisably quick setting in in full. Once she’d hit about halfway through, he acted.

Sliding a finger under hers, loosening her grip on the glass, and lightly catching her fingers, hold just firm enough to manipulate her movements.

Giving a light tug as he himself stood, he pulled her into something vaguely resembling upright. The noise she made was somewhere between confusion and alarm and he shot a charming grin at her.

“Come on then, let's dance.”

“Dance?” she seemed startled, “I can’t dance for shit, you know this!’

Laughing he countered her attempt at a protestation, “You’re also very drunk, no one will know the difference. Lightweight,” he teased.

She gazed out uncertainly at the room, and then down at herself and her attire.

“You’re with me tonight princess, it doesn’t matter,” he teasingly mocked her worry.

It was then she noticed how the energy had changed. The people all seemed the same and yet… What once had been somewhere that felt elegant and cold, there was a seediness that had slipped in. People moved closer, and grander. Less held back. Straps slipped from shoulders, and noses seemed more powdered than before.

So this was why he liked the place. Pretty on the surface, and teeming with unrestrained indulgence underneath.

The music shifted, into something equally mindless, but heavier on the bass and a lot less refined. With a devilish grin, he gave her another tug, guiding her effortlessly through a twirl towards the floor, joining the other bodies gathering.

Had she been a bit less inebriated, a bit more aware, perhaps she would have noticed the tightness around his eyes, the calculation in his movements. He was agitated, but if nothing else, Kadokura was a damn good actor when he wanted to be.

And so the night continued. Kadokura, better playing the part of “Kenshi-Tenshi” than he would ever acknowledge, guided her about the club. For all appearances he was cutting loose and having fun alongside her, but never was there a moment he wasn’t vigilant. Never did she leave his perceptions. Sliding between anyone who approached her, keeping her on her feet and distracted. Empty and thoughtless the way she needed to be. He watched her sway and wiggle in her uncoordinated delight, laugh until she choked. Silently crying, arms aloft and jumping with the beat.

He watched her pain, cataloging every moment. Committing it to memory.

In a way, he hated her, for being so terribly strange.

It made her interesting, and he was a covetous man.

As the hours moved from late to early, he guided her out the back door and to a nearby lot, gentle but steady grip on her elbow, both to keep her up and at his side. He helped her into the back seat of a running car, one he’d called, nothing so banal as a taxi, and slid in after her. He rattled off the address of her apartment, as he texted Daigo that he was taking her there instead.

He knew she wouldn’t want Kichi to see her like this.

She slid down, flopping over to lean on him, and for once, he didn't protest. He'd let her have this one. It seemed too cruel even for him, to move her as she wept quietly onto his sleeve.

He let his head fall back, and watched the world go by as she babbled. Incoherent whispers and mumbling.

Pulling up in front of the building, he noted the soft light in one of the windows. Daigo was already here then. Good.

She laughed as he helped her stumble across the small garden courtyard, and what a fascinating dichotomy, her free laughter, even as she cried still. Up the flight of stairs, he managed to fish out the key and unlock the door with one hand as used the other to help keep her on her feet.

Daigo was already halfway across the room as he helped her through the entry and into the apartment. Delicately as he was able, he passed her off to her husband, the man's soft thanks heard but unneeded.

The younger man scooped her off her feet and carried her back to the bedroom, murmuring soft words Kadokura didn't dain to listen to.

He made himself at home, as he was wont to do, pulling down the good scotch she kept and pouring himself a glass, foregoing the chilled scotch rock in favor of expedience.

It was maybe half an hour, long enough to get the wreck of a woman rinsed off, changed, and settled, going by the noise, before Daigo reemerged.

"Is she going to be ok?"

Kadokura threw back the second half of the double pour, "No one is ever 'ok' Daigo-chan. Give me a call if I can do anything to help her."

"That's quite generous of you."

There was no accusation or suspicion in his voice, despite the words themselves. A mere statement. And a relatively fair one Kadokura supposed.

"She'd do the same for me."

And with that he made his way out of the quiet apartment, back into the waiting car, and across town to the hotel he'd never admit to staying in. Just in case.

She might need him again tomorrow.

#yakkimi #kadokura-verse 2.0 #majimemegoro #vent drabble #vent one shot #trauma venting by way of fiction wheee #csa mention #tw csa mention #cw csa mention

6 notes · View notes

beerecordings · 2 years

Text

Marvin's Brothers

I'm bringing him home, but I've got to take him right to the hospital. Needed to get him out of Germany, but he's not well.

What's wrong with him? Can I talk to him?

No, he's not up for it.

What's wrong with him?

Meet me at St. Margaret's. We'll get in around three in the morning.

I want to see him, send me a picture at least. You're scaring me.

Seen at 11:46 PM.

Marvin's hands quail as he checks his phone again, scrolling back through the message like a secret code might appear to tell him what's wrong. He switches tabs to an old picture of Henrik grinning, one he's had pulled up in the background since Jackie texted him back for the first time in months.

I got into a mess, I got into a big fucking mess and I couldn't get back to my phone for the longest time. But I found him, Marvin. He's alive.

Alive but not well. Marvin bites down hard on the nail of his thumb, feeling it bend between his teeth.

“I'm, um. Maybe a little worried about Schneep,” says Chase, adding a breathy laugh to the sounds of the late-night stragglers and rumbling cars moving around them. Marvin's gaze flinches over to him to find Chase flipping his cap repeatedly in his hands, his grin twisted up frenetically.

Fuck's sake, if Chase thinks that's a surprise admission, then maybe Marvin's actually hiding the gut-spinning anxiety shooting pains all the way up his back better than he thought he was. He considers Chase pretty emotionally intelligent, but if he hasn't noticed that Marvin's about to start breathing fire all over the pavement outside St. Margaret's like a bloated wyrm, they're probably both so stuck in their own heads you couldn't get them out with pliers and a bonesaw.

Dammit, he wishes JJ were here. He could really use his reckless son-of-a-bitch younger brother to help deal with his reckless son-of-a-bitch older brother, but it's out of the question. Jackie still doesn't know. Marvin couldn't even begin to imagine how to text him the news, and soon he'll have to tell him, to his face, that his precious baby brother –

Okay, okay, okay. Son-of-a-bitch indeed. One thing at a time, Marvin, holy shit.

“You know Henrik,” he manages finally, slinging an arm around Chase's shoulder. “Tough as jerky. He'll be okay.”

“Anti's had him for nine months,” Chase whimpers back. It's almost his I-just-got-off-the-phone-with-Stacy-and-she-wants-me-to-drug-test whine, but a little less self-pitying. “He could have done anything to him.” “'Anything' is not worth thinking about, amata. He'll be here soon and then we'll know for sure.”

And then we can stop imagining Anti putting nails through his gums, won't that be nice?

If he pukes right here outside the hospital, do you think someone would come check on him, or would the nurses just blink at him from the windows?

His phone buzzes and he scrabbles at it.

Jackie: They checked us in, room 312

“How the hell did he get past us?” cries Chase, jumping off the bench so suddenly his phone falls out of his pocket and he has to go ducking after it. “Goddammit, goddammit.”

Marvin pushes past him and into the hospital, approaching the receptionist's desk like he just might flip it. He can feel his own heat, knows he looks like he's running a fever, knows he could have frost in one hand and flame in the other in a second if he wanted to, Marvin, you have to keep it the fuck together.

“Hi,” he breathes, eyes flashing. “I'm here to see my brother in 312.”

He gets a visitor form and then Chase takes it from him with a tentative look. Marvin's head swims.

“You're hot to the touch, Marvel,” Chase whispers.

“I'm under control, I'm fine.”

“Are you angry at Jackie?”

“No.”

“Angry at Anti, then, I get it,” mumbles Chase.

And Marvin doesn't have the heart to tell him that he's not angry at all, just scared.

The elevator buzzes like a fly. Marvin closes his eyes. His phone grumbles again.

JJ: Any update?

Marvin pockets his phone without answering and steps out of the elevator behind Chase. Room 310. Holy hell. He's right here, just two doors away.

And Jackie's right there outside of it, blank-faced, standing up beside the door and staring at the wall.

“Jackie!” screams Chase, and he launches himself at him. Jackie jolts up from some haze inside his head and turns, eyes fixing on Chase, and then his arms lock around him too, and Jackie picks Chase fully off the floor, breathing out a sigh as loud as a cry as he presses their heads together and squeezes him.

Marvin finds he has no reaction to it at all. He moves past Jackie without touching him and presses open the door to room 312.

“Hey, I said to wait outside for a moment,” reprimands the nurse by the bed. “You...”

She cuts herself off and Marvin knows she's realized he's not Jackie. It doesn't matter.

“Henrik.” The word comes out of him unauthorized. Didn't mean to say it.

“You must be the other brother,” says the nurse finally. “I'm done, just try not to disturb him.”

He waits for her to leave, and she does, giving him a look he can't care to decipher. He steps towards the bed.

“Henrik,” he repeats, like he expects him to reply. But that's stupid. Henrik's so... so far away. He feels it like a physical distance. Like he could reach out and keep walking forever, and he still wouldn't ever touch him. Never ever ever. “Henrik, come here, it's me.”

He's unconscious on the hospital bed.

“If you get up, we'll go home,” Marvin says. “Henrik.”

“Marvin. Hey.” Hands grab his shoulders, hold him steady. “They medicated him. Let him sleep.”

Marvin turns and sees Jackie looking at him. His brother has a mottled bruise all down the side of his face, and he's so wan he could probably pass out on command. He looks older, too. So much older. Marvin reaches out and touches him, just with the pads of his fingers, just brushing across his cheek, and then his bedraggled beard.

“You did bring him home,” he whispers.

Jackie bites down on his mouth. “I'm sorry it took me so long. I'm sorry I stopped answering, I just... phones weren't safe.”

“Uh-huh,” Marvin manages wisely.

Chase is pushing past both of them, curling over Henrik to touch him. “My brother, my brother,” he half-sobs. “What happened? He's so cut up, did Anti – Jackie, please, he – ”

Jackie leaves him to tend to Chase, and Marvin sinks into a chair by the door. He doesn't think he can get any closer. Didn't he tell these fuckers to stop getting sent to the hospital? If Henrik were awake and reaching out for a hug, he would say that out loud, and it would make Henrik smile. Didn't I tell you, you little fucker? You're only allowed inside hospitals if you're working in them.

And he'd give him a kiss on the side of his head that meant mein schatz, thank God you're here. I cried so much for you.

But Henrik's not awake.

“Found him locked in a bedroom,” he can hear Jackie explaining, in this soft tone he seems to have been practicing, unnatural for somebody who's meant to be so loud, like a lion that starts singing arias. “Blood on the floors, but just sitting in a blanket with his glasses broken on his nose, eating cashews and painkillers. It was when we were getting away that his leg...”

Marvin closes his eyes.

“How'd you get on a flight with his leg like this?” Chase asks.

“We took trains. And a boat.”

“What?” Marvin demands, eyes snapping back open. “Are you kidding? He's been this hurt and you didn't fly him out here?”

“I had to get him out of Germany,” Jackie shoots back. “He wasn't getting on a plane with that leg, and they're too easily traceable anyway. On trains you can steal other people's tickets or slip onboard, if you're careful. Anti thinks we're still hiding out in Munich, and the longer he's looking there, the better.” “He would have been better off in Germany going right to a hospital. You should have called me out there. I would have hidden you like I hid Sean. I can weave those spells in an hour.”

“No way. We were in enough danger without bringing you in too. He would have grabbed you the second you were in the country.”

“They've got him on fucking oxygen and you took days to get him medical help?”

“Guys, are you kidding me? Don't fight,” snaps Chase.

Marvin stares at Jackie. Jackie stares back. His posture's so tight, so worn. Marvin feels his own shoulders sink a little. His big brother. His Jackie.

“You missed each other,” says Chase softly. “Give each other a hug.” It says a lot about the kind of brother he's been since they lost Henrik that Jackie just reaches out like he might pat Marvin on the shoulder or something equally repressed, but he's past caring. He's not that person anymore. Jackie's missed so much, and Marvin... where does he even start?

His eyes are burning. He can't believe he's lecturing Jackie about medical decisions when he was the one who... the one who was here while JJ...

“Marvin?” asks Jackie, bewildered to see him starting to cry.

“Jackie,” groans Marvin, and he steps towards him and falls into his arms, sobbing.

For a long moment, Jackie just wraps around him, like a tree growing around a corpse.

And then:

“Something's happened,” Jackie whispers. “What's happened?”

“JJ wanted to be there when we told you,” Chase says.

And well, if Jackie had any color left in his face, it's gone in that moment.

A stir from somewhere behind him raises Marvin from his brother's shoulder, and Chase sits up too, immediately attentive. “Schneep?” he whispers, reaching out to touch his hand.

Henrik yanks his hand back, blinking. He stares around at all of them with dazed, round eyes.

“Henrik.” Marvin ducks towards him, hands outstretched. “You're here, you're here. It's – it's me, love. You're safe here. Jackie brought you home.”

Henrik just stares at him, reaching up to touch his own head. Chase reaches forward again, but again, Henrik rears back.

“Schneep, are you with us?” asks Chase softly.

And he just... looks.

He just looks.

Marvin smiles frailly at him. “Henrik,” he says again.

Henrik's gaze falls away. He looks around the hospital room. He doesn't say anything. His mouth is slightly parted, his eyes glassy.

No... guarded. That's the word Marvin's looking for. His eyes are guarded, flashing in all directions. Chase tries to come towards him one more time, and Henrik holds his hand out in warning, as though pushing him back telekinetically, his lip pulling back into a snarl, soundless. He shakes his head slowly, once, twice, thrice. A rhythm. He keeps shaking his head, back and forth, back and forth, slow. Like there's music in his head, and nothing outside it.

Marvin and Chase both turn to Jackie together. Chase grips Marvin's hand for a second, and it's clammy against his own.

Jackie won't look back at them. His shoulders are shaking. His hands are clenched into fists.

“He hasn't been himself,” he whispers, something dark and heady as a riptide beneath his voice. “Chase, stay with him. Marvin, take me to James. Now.”

Marvin tries to sit him down when he starts screaming, but he can't make him stop.

“My baby!” Jackie howls, reaching for him, trying to grab at him, but JJ just backs away, because he's trying to sign, and Jackie doesn't know that. Jackie doesn't speak BSL. “Who did that to you, who did this? Not this, not you too!”

“Jackie, Jackie,” Marvin cries. “He's trying to talk to you! The hole in his throat – it's medical, okay, he's okay – ”

“Cut my brother open,” Jackie screams. “Someone cut my brother open. How could you let this happen? Jameson! Jameson! No, talk to me!”

JJ's been keeping it together so well. Been so calm, so determined. But Jackie starts screaming his name and Marvin sees his eyes well up, his face scrunch, his lip tremble.

“I love you, I love you,” he's signing, over and over again. “Please listen to me. It's okay. I'm okay with it.”

“Please say something,” Jackie shrieks, grabbing his shoulders, and then his face, and then his hands, face red as a salt-heavy Indian sea. “Please tell me this isn't true.”

Marvin tries to shove his way between them. “He's trying to talk,” he insists, and he's got to be calm, he knows he's got to be calm, but he can't, because Henrik's far away even in the hospital, and JJ's trying so hard, and Jackie can't take it, and it's all Marvin's fault, all your fault, you know exactly how you treated him, how you hated him, how you prayed he would be gone and Henrik would be here instead. All your fucking fault.

“You were supposed to be safe here, Marvin was supposed to keep you safe,” sobs Jackie. “Not this, not this! Say something! Jameson! Jameson!”

“He's trying!” Marvin screams back. “Jackie, you're scaring him!”

Jameson starts sinking to his knees, eyes squeezing shut in despair. Jackie lurches to grab him, scooping him off the floor and dragging him against his chest, crying and screaming into his shoulder.

“Talk to me! Talk to me! Say something, please, Jameson! Jameson! Jameson!”

Marvin sinks to the floor against the couch, covering his face with his hands, and his magic pours out of him in a flood of water, beginning to rain from the ceiling above them, soaking their living room. Jackie dry-heaves, begging between gasps of air, begging for Sean's forgiveness, for this to stop, for this not to have happened, he's sorry, he's sorry.

"Marvin was supposed to keep you safe," weeps Jackie. "Please say something, please, Jamie, I love you."

JJ sobs too, but it doesn't make much noise. Just breathy bids for air, and his tears hitting the floor alongside the rain.

#marvin's brothers #snippet sequel? you guys remember this fic? a classic #tw hospitalization #tw cancer mention #bee writes

12 notes · View notes

outofangband · 2 years

Text

Dor-lómin crew and animal headcanons:

I did the Fëanorians here and I was very bored at work

edit: reposted with more information and edits I couldn't check for yesterday!

Other headcanons for them can be found in the character tags! I know I’ve talked a few times about these characters and animals before

Húrin

Húrin likes animals, both the domestic ones and wild ones. He has had several cows he was especially fond of and he likes ermine and pine Martin like creatures. He finds them funny to watch.

Incidentally, the animals I always associate with Húrin are mongooses, meerkats, sparrows and river otters because they’re family oriented creatures who are also small, snarky and infamously antagonize large predators (sparrows go after crows, mongooses and meerkats go after huge venomous snakes and river otters go after crocodiles)

Also tailor birds because the tailor bird couple in Riki Tiki Tavi remind me of Húrin and Morwen :) if Rudyard Kipling wasn’t such a mess of colonialism, I might think of doing something with that

Huor also likes cows. He likes gentle ones he can pet while he daydreams. I could see him with a large, fluffy cat.

Both him and Húrin remember being in awe at the golden leopards they would occasionally see along the outskirts of Gondolin, in the mountains.

Both him and Húrin also do both love eagles. Húrin has an eagle feather tattoo

Túrin as a child liked animals in theory but was usually afraid of bigger ones. He was also very sensitive to animal death. There is a small bird graveyard in the back garden Túrin insisted on creating. He liked hearing about animals from Sador or Rían. Aerin and Húrin both tried to get him interested in horses with little success. They would have definitely tried again had there been the chance to

Túrin in Doriath really liked animals and plants! His favorites were the quails that the marchwardens kept and strange pale turtles Nellas would show him in pools deep within Neldoreth

He doesn’t have too many strong opinions on animals until his time in Brethil to be honest.

Lalaith loved chasing butterflies! She also likes bunnies and chickens.

Morwen I’m uncertain about. I don’t think she has a favorite animal but if she does, she’s certainly not going to say it.

She does have happy memories of her father taking her to watch birds as a young child on early mornings when he was home and of catching lizards with Rían in the summer.

I do headcanon she is unafraid of skeletons and especially as a child and teenager had an interest in the bones because as I’ve said, she was a morbid child 🍃. I love @theoppositeofprofound ‘s image of her with a crown made from starling(?) bones. That exactly fits my thoughts about her, her aesthetic and her disposition.

Niënor liked bugs and frogs as a kid. She liked to find and save bugs in the house and bring them outside. She developed a rather unsentimental view of some animals as a child such as rabbits and some birds which they could occasionally kill to eat.

I love exploring the connections and associations with her and deer

Sador enjoys the animals he sees from his windows, especially rabbits and red foxes. He is rather intimidated by horses. They are Unpredictable.

Aerin loves horses! She also has a pet goat which she adores. Goats aren’t usually raised by the Hadorians but this one she got from a passing group who occasionally traded with her people. She raised it from when it was a baby with a bottle. Aerin also likes bumblebees.

Rían loves colorful animals especially. Birds, butterflies and dragonflies, brightly colored lizards she would see on sunny days in Ladros, even some beetles. She also has a fondness for owls and crickets.

As always please feel free to ask more!

#the silmarillion #the children of húrin #Morwen #Húrin #Aerin #Niënor #Túrin #Rían #Sador #Lalaith #Huor #musing and meta

9 notes · View notes