#no one will come to my feeder you all are UNGRATEFUL

[ittybittybumblebee]

Birbs birdies birds pspspspspspspspspsppspspspspspspspspspspsps

pspspspspsps come here birdes

#no one will come to my feeder you all are UNGRATEFUL #get ya fuckjgnf food #come to me my lovlies there are so many seeds for you to eat #BIRDS GET OVER HERE

[notesfromdruchan]

Atishoo

In many ways, I've never found closure after Atishoo's sudden death that I got to know a fortnight later from her daughter. I'd often start an email to the abyss, addressed to Atishoo, telling her how much I miss her English wit and her counsel and her irreverent wisecracks about everything under the sun and so much more but they would end up as drafts or get deleted. Nothing seemed to fit the bill to accept that this person, who I knew for a very brief moment in time, is no more here.

Friendships with older people – Atishoo was pushing north of sixty when I first knew her – are few and far between because it's not often that one meets old folk who can vibe with the younger ones. But those that do are a wellspring of youth even as time and disease cripple their physicality. I was lucky to know and be befriended by Atishoo.

That wasn't her real name of course. It was a "nick", a handle she used on an old internet hangout place that I sometimes frequented. When we exchanged emails, I got to know her real name but for this recounting, Atishoo will remain so, as she does in my memories and recollections of her.

She would regale me with tales of the garden she set up and tended to. She had recently set up something like a bird-feeder which a noisy, bulky pigeon – who she named Bert – toppled over with his friends, so she had to rebuild something stronger with the help of her son. Eventually, "Bert and family" would begin to feature a lot in our emails. This was her quip when I enquired about Bert: "Bert and his extended family are still eating me out of house and home but enjoy their new found – no expense spared I might add – spa!" She also had created a pond and let some tadpoles mature in it. When the time came, I received an email with the subject "Ungrateful frogs", declaring, "They all left overnight, never said thank you for your hospitality or even a wave goodbye for giving them a good start in life."

At the time I knew her, she was suffering from cancer that the doctors and the family were trying hard to keep in check. But all that pain could do nothing to her spontaneous wit nor to her stoicism. It was very rare for her to let an inkling of all that pain through her words to me. A lot of our chats would hover around about animals and her narratives would often crack me up good. She also had four dogs, one of which, in the last leg of my acquaintance with Atishoo, got lost and then found, all in a matter of several stressful hours.

Atishoo's presence coincided not just with the discovery of cancer in her but also the discovery of a lymphocytic ailment in my maternal grandmother. She (Atishoo) would have just come back from a bout of scans but was ready with an unassuming, serene dose of counsel for me. Somehow, she'd distill all her stoic wisdom into a pint of English wit and offer it to me and that would make all the difference.

More often than not, she'd lure me into pleasant conversations with her and other folks that used to hangout during times when I'd go under the radar for the recluse that I am. Her emails would always bring a sense of happiness, a sense of familiarity and inexplicably, a sense of home. It was also fun to watch her craft a new email thread in response to a previous one instead of just hitting "reply" and that first time she learned to "reply" instead of starting a new email and I almost missed it.

After a while, "where are you, it's been a while?"s became more frequent from me to her than in the other direction. And then, an email from her daughter in the middle of September informing me of Atishoo's death. Atishoo had managed to not let on that things were so bad that I was not the only one taken aback by the suddenness and the finality of the news. She was gone but it didnt quite register for months. Perhaps, more. Years have passed and this feeble fantastical notion that Atishoo is still here, just gone silent, lingers around.

Atishoo was gone before the pandemic years. She was gone before the sparrows made a brief comeback during the lockdown months. She was gone before I'd eventually adopt a kitten, or start volunteering at an animal shelter. And I've missed her presence all the more in my inability to share the zeitgeist with her and read her irreverent and humorous hot-take responses.

[necrowriter]

monday thing: march 23 (apple trees in september/apple trees in march)

when I started up the new Animal Crossing game on Friday morning I reset the game to get an island with apple trees on it.

it felt important.

we went up to stay by the lake the last week of September.

the drive up to Michigan took most of a day. we had to leave the day before and stay in a motel overnight to make the ferry trip to the island the next day.

I remember sitting in the car, crammed between suitcases and pillows, staring groggily at the rain flecking the windshield. we'd gotten up a little early to make a grocery run before heading out to catch the ferry.

"I'm really glad you're feeling better this time," my dad said abruptly. "you didn't enjoy this trip very much last time."

"oh," I said. "yeah. so am I."

last time was two years ago. two years ago when we'd stopped for lunch before getting on the ferry I broke down crying at the table in front of the waitress and everybody for no reason at all.

this, undeniably, was better. but I spent a lot of time that week thinking, is this as better as it's going to get?

it started raining as we got closer to the island and kept on as we got off the ferry and scrambled across the parking lot into the car. we'd brought towels, since the house we were staying in didn't have any. I wrapped one around myself and shivered the whole time we drove out to the house. when we got there we draped the towels over our heads while we unpacked the car.

I hadn't thought to bring a rain jacket, or my muddy-weather boots. I felt silly for it, but it had been dry and hot hot hot at home for so long that it simply hadn't occurred to me. this was the first time I'd felt cold rain in a long while. after a month of watching the grass turn brown in ninety degree heat, here, suddenly, it really was late September.

the air was cool to breathe and the sound of the lake was always present.

there were apple trees everywhere.

two years ago I had been a few months into trying medication and one of the antidepressants had caused a bad reaction.

sad is better than having panic attacks, not sleeping, feeling constantly on edge and always a little like being about throw up. sad is better than feeling as bad as I ever had in my life. I would take sad, hands down.

still.

it was a different kind of sad, though, this. I wasn't sure what to make of it.

it was a very nice house. there was one big main room with huge windows that looked out over the lake.

I spent a lot of time thinking if I lived here--

but I could never go too far down that train of thought. it felt much to greedy. too ungrateful. alright, so you don't have a place of your own, but you've got a place. how dare you complain about your situation when you know it could be so much worse?

so instead I would think about my cat. it wasn't fair for me to ask for more, but I could want more for her. more space. more sunny places to lie in. not having to live with another cat she didn't get along with.

I'd put a window seat there, I thought. and a bird feeder out on the deck, so she could sit and look out and watch the birds. and a rug there where the sun hits, and her food there and her water there, and--

that was alright.

things felt different there.

on spotty wi-fi that my brother rigged up we followed the just-breaking news: Ukraine scandal, promises of impeachment. like something might be about to change. some days it rained and the waves tossed outside the windows. some days it was clear and cool. out for a drive around the island I borrowed a hoodie from my dad, having packed only t-shirts. all around us were trees turning red and gold, and overflowing with apples.

I sat out on the deck and listened to sea shanties and Stan Rogers. like you know anything about sailing anyway, the voice in my head would tease sometimes when I hummed along, but that was never the point anyway. there's more than one kind of stormy weather.

at home it felt as if nothing had changed. like time had stopped. seasons stretched into each other; the summers seemed longer and the winters warmer every year. I began to lose track of how many medications I'd tried, how many psychiatrist visits and phone conversations, how many times I thought maybe this will be the one, and I'll finally feel better, and I can work and live and feel things like a real person--

it did not all go away at the lake. but the week that we stayed there was a brief slice of something different.

the first Animal Crossing game I played was New Leaf, in college, on the 3DS my brother had given me as a birthday present.

college was hard. a few years away from getting any formal diagnosis of anything, I knew I was struggling but would be hard pressed to explain how. I would not have said I am autistic but I would have said everything is too loud and too much here. I desperately missed home, missed being in a place that felt safe and right and comfortable. in my little virtual town I could make everything just right, and have a place that was familiar no matter where I was.

after I graduated and returned home I visited the town less and less often. needs change.

in college I only wanted to go home. there at the lake, I was surprised to find I did not want to go home.

I am routine-bound. I like things a certain way. I am used to thinking I want to go home almost as soon as I spend any considerable amount of time somewhere else. at the lake I did miss my cats, and my own bed, and my kettle, but still I thought--no, I don't want to go back.

oh god, I thought, watching September rain fall. oh god, I need things to change. I need to be somewhere else.

read enough stories and you start to expect things to play out a certain way. properly. satisfyingly. in a good story, this would have been a turning point. in a good story, when we got back and I called my psychiatrist to say once again, "I don't think this one is working either. can we try something else?" that would have been the one that changed everything.

it was not. there have been more prescriptions since then. there will probably be more still.

it rained on the drive back. when we stopped for gas somewhere past nine o'clock at night, we got out of the car to warm and swampy humidity and I felt my heart sink.

things did not turn around. but sometimes still, on the very bad days, I would stand in the shower and sing

turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain

and like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again

a short, hot fall turned to a warm, gray, bad winter that has brought a much worse spring.

I don't know where things are going, or what will happen. every morning I check the news before getting out of bed, and every morning it's harder to get up at all. things have felt hopeless for a long time, but never more so than now.

but what can you do but carry on?

Friday was the latest gray morning in a row of eleven. rain keeps coming, in thunderstorms with hail and in slow afternoon drizzles. the creek is high and the front yard is a swamp of mud. here at the end of the road everything feels far away and unreal.

there is very little point in saying oh god I need to be somewhere else, but then, there never has been.

so instead I made an island with apple trees. I like to imagine it's on a lake and the air is cool there.

you get away where you can. and you keep going. that's all I know.                                                                                                                                     

#monday thing #nonfiction

[its-the-sa]

jealousy

(i had this in my head forever and then there was a post about it on my dash so i had to actually get off my ass and write it lol)

---

He can get up by himself, he thinks. All he needs is a little leverage. If he can just scoot himself close enough to a nearby rock formation, he should be able to prop himself up and flip over. He's perfectly capable of doing that.

Eventually.

Right now, he's just too tired to keep trying. The loss of his most prized possession, the overwhelming disappointment of having come so close to victory only to be thwarted at the last moment, (not to mention the various unpleasant feelings stirred up just from seeing Maui again) have all left him rather depressed. At the moment, all he wants to do is sulk and maybe pity himself a little bit.

That doesn't mean he can't still complain, though.

"Any time now," Tamatoa whines to no one in particular, "Not like I'm in a rush or anything. I'll just wait right here... Not going anywhere..."

As far as he knows, he's only talking to himself. He's in his own territory, and even in this state he's still too dangerous for other monsters to try sneaking up on. No one else is around to hear him mope.

So he is certainly not expecting the flash of blue light in his peripheral vision.

Seeing that flash causes a Pavlovian fear reaction-- he's already halfway to panic before he even realizes why he's afraid. But then his brain catches up with what's happening, and he is unsurprised when a bird flies up in front of him and, in another flash of light, an all too familiar demigod drops down onto his chest.

"Oh," Tamatoa says flatly, "It's you."

Maui grins. "Is that any way to greet your old pal?"

"You're not my pal."

Maui shrugs. "Close enough." He lifts his hook and twirls it in a way that he probably thinks looks casual. "Got the hang of the shapeshifting thing again, by the way. It's like sailing a boat, you know? You never really forget."

"What do you want," Tamatoa says.

"Well..." Maui plants his hook back down on Tamatoa's carapace and leans against it. "After we got done saving the world and all, I remembered poor old Tamatoa must still be stranded down here. Thought you might need some help, and hey, looks like I was right."

Tamatoa squints. "No, really? What makes you think that?" He rocks back and forth, flailing his legs. "I'll have you know I've been doing just fine since you and your--" He pauses and looks around, as something occurs to him. "...Where is your little human pet, anyway?"

Maui's smile falls a bit, his eyes turning sharp. "Hey, Moana's not a pet. She's my friend."

And just like that, the air of familiar banter freezes into genuine hostility. "Lucky her," Tamatoa says icily.

For a tense moment it seems like the situation might escalate, but then Maui diffuses it with a smirk. "You know... I'm starting to get the feeling you're not happy to see me," he says wryly.

Tamatoa gives him the most unimpressed look he can muster. "I'm not. That's why I'm insulting you, you empty-headed--"

His eyes sweep up and down the demigod's form in distaste, and suddenly his attention catches on something and he stops mid-sentence.

Tamatoa has always had an eye for tiny details. (Particularly on things he enjoys looking at.) He knows all of Maui's tattoos up and down-- was there when he got more than a few of them. So he knows that the curve of the sky held up by Mini-Maui is supposed to flow smoothly into the plane of the ground where he stands lassoing the sun. But it doesn't. That line is broken by something.

Without thinking, he lifts a claw and reaches for the demigod. Maui immediately tenses and grips his hook, and Tamatoa pauses, realizing belatedly that he might be expecting an attack.

He waits until Maui relaxes slightly and the suspicion on his face shifts into something more like confusion. Then he slowly closes the distance and presses the tip of his claw to Maui's chest. He pushes Maui's necklace up out of the way, revealing the new tattoo dividing the sky and the earth.

It's... a human on a boat.

Tamatoa squints, eyestalks stretching forward to get a better look. Not just any human, he realizes-- it's a girl. In fact, she almost looks like--

Then Tamatoa feels his eyes go wide as understanding hits him.

It's that girl.

The one who tricked him, and quite literally stole Maui from him.

Maui, whom he grew up with (went on countless adventures with, fought and bled alongside, would have once done anything for), has a tattoo of that girl over his heart.

He feels numb in a way he has only experienced once before. It's like the receding tide before a tsunami; the blank feeling of being so severely hurt that the pain needs time to catch up.

He thinks Maui must recognize the look on his face, because the demigod glances down at the tattoo and then quickly slaps a hand over it, looking almost guilty.

Good.

Tamatoa's vision flashes neon. He shouldn't have played around so much, he thinks. He should have eaten that girl from the start, and then Maui would've been helpless against him and he could've eaten him too, could've tasted his blood--

He bites back his anger, forces it down behind a mask of cool indifference.

"Oh," he says, his voice saturated with disdain, "So that's why you're here."

Maui takes a step backward, his posture turning defensive. His hand is still over his heart. "I'm here to help you, you ungrateful bottom-feeder."

Tamatoa sneers. "Not before you regale me with the tale of your latest adventure, I hope! It must have been spectacular, to earn a place of honor like that." His eyes narrow, and his claws flex open and closed. "Please, I'd love to hear it."

#listen tamatoa is def the jealous type #tamatoa #maui

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

Slowly but Surely

Plot: AU The snake hybrid you took in is leery of you and you know better than to push his boundaries. Finding him invading your bed was unexpected, but he claims it’s just instinct.

Rating: PG (Snake behaviors, distrust, mention of wounds healing)

Characters: Snake Hybrid!Yoongi x Reader

Notes: This is related to the Misunderstood Hybrid headcanons I wrote. Dedicated to @btsreactsarchive as she reblogged the first round of headcanons a little after they were written and has been a big supporter. Many thanks.

“How are your wounds healing?” you asked when your guest entered the kitchen.

The hybrid shuffled into the kitchen slowly, eyes still closed. The tips of his forked tongue peeked out between his lips and he paused for a moment.

“You have mice under your bird feeder – I’m going to have breakfast outside,” he noted. He moved in the direction of the door and you blinked at his response.

You opened your mouth, tempted to ask him your question again but the words lingered on your tongue. Instead, you rose from your seat and placed your hand on the doorknob to open the back door for him. He pried an eye open and twisted his lips into a scowl.

“I can open the door myself,” he grumbled as he nudged your hand away, taking the knob and yanking the door open. He leaned forward and dropped to his belly, using his tail to propel himself slowly toward the direction of your bird feeder. You quietly shut the door behind you and sighed.

A few days ago you found the weakened snake hybrid in your yard, injured by a hawk that picked him up and tried to carry him off. He refused your help, despite sustaining some serious wounds that needed treatment immediately. When he struggled to move further than a few steps out of your yard, he collapsed, and grudgingly said he could stand to have another look at the wounds.

You bandaged up his wounds and offered him your spare bedroom, also offering him mice from the reptile pet store not far from your house. While he would say, “Thank you” when you did these things for him, it seemed more like a courtesy phrase versus something genuine. He refused to share reasons why he was suspicious of you, but part of you wondered if he had a rough life prior to the hawk attack. He was the first snake hybrid you encountered, but not your first hybrid.

“Good night Yoongi!” you called out before retiring to your room.

He avoided your gaze and hummed before shutting the door with a snap. You sighed as you closed your door quietly and headed for the comfort of your bed. He barely talked to you today and you phoned a friend who knew more about hybrids than you did.

“Am I doing something wrong?” you asked her.

“You said a snake hybrid, correct? Is he more snake than human? I ask because I’ve met both cases where the snake is more prevalent than the human and vice versa,” she said.

You described his physical appearance to her and she clicked her tongue, replying he was more snake than human based on appearance. “Y/N, I don’t think it’s you,” she concluded. “A lot of people see hybrids like him and they get, well, freaked because snakes get this rep as being vicious, prone to lashing out with fangs bared...He’s probably gotten a lot of that and maybe he’s scared you think the same way about him. I’d still give him space but make it clear that you aren’t judging him like the others. He may also be a little shy about opening up.”

Yoongi curled up under the covers and huffed as he rolled onto his side, trying to get comfortable. His hands rested between his knees and he burrowed lower into the covers, trying to warm up. The weather had taken a turn for the worst these past few days and it was cooler out than usual. Pain from the hawk wounds aside, he slept like a baby the first few nights without struggle. Now that it was colder out, he was shivering under the blankets, despite trying to tuck them more tightly around his body. He groaned as he struggled to keep warm and sleep peacefully, but nothing seemed to be working.

He sat up and threw the covers back, debating what he should do. Maybe he could borrow a blanket from you, take it back here, and fall back to sleep. He nibbled on his lower lip as he slipped out of bed and forced himself to head in the direction of your room.

You had been nothing but kind and welcoming to him after everything that transpired in a matter of days. He wasn’t ungrateful, but part of him wondered whether you were doing this because you actually cared or because you had some ulterior motive in mind. He was used to people staring and treating him like a freak with the scaly skin, snake tail, and the eyes. Mothers kept their children close when they saw him, casting wary looks in his direction when he passed. Girls clung to their boyfriends, pressing their thighs together if they saw him, whispering that he looked like trouble. He heard it all.

He balled his fist up hesitating to knock on the door. Hell, he contemplated toughing it out one more night but he picked up on the warmth nearby from behind the door and made up his mind. He twisted the knob on your door and quietly entered, moving slowly so he wouldn’t disturb you.

Your back was to the door and you were curled up on your side, eyes closed and peacefully sound asleep under your blankets. His hand hovered over the top blanket, a passing thought of him taking it and leaving quickly before he woke you. But his senses detected that the high source of heat was coming from you, not the top most blanket, which felt fairly cool to the touch.

Sleep is more important – I won’t grope them, Yoongi thought as he lifted the covers and slipped into bed on the other side.

The movement of the covers made you stir and you groggily pried your eyes open, blinking as you tried to adjust in the darkness. Your eyes met the brighter ones of the snake hybrid and you almost kicked yourself, wondering if this was a dream or real.

“Yoongi, are you...?”

“It’s cold, it’s in my nature to look for sources of heat,” Yoongi cut you off. “There’s not enough blankets to keep me warm tonight.”

“Did you want one of –” you stopped talking when you noticed the bright eyes closed and Yoongi was sound sleep beside you. He left a small amount of space between your bodies and you sighed as you settled back down and fell back to sleep.

The next few nights were the same – Yoongi crawled into bed with you and fell asleep immediately without fuss, often before you settled in and turned off the lights. Your friend confirmed that his behavior was normal for his breed and you continued to allow the arrangement, knowing that he needed to be comfortable in order to heal.

About two weeks after finding him, you noticed bandages discarded in the trash, plus old skin that had been recently shed. Frowning, you peered at both items, trying to determine if this meant he was healed. He emerged from the bathroom and shot you an amused look.

“Have you never seen a snake skin?” he asked.

“You’ve healed,” you explained as you moved away. “Hey, did you want to go eat something? I mean, at a restaurant, not here? I’ll buy.”

“You actually want to be seen with me?”

“I don’t care if you’re a hybrid or not, you should be allowed to enjoy eating out without judgment,” you replied.

The last sentence made him look up at you, traces of a smile beginning to form across his face.

“So. Full,” Yoongi hummed as he patted his belly with a content grin. “I wasn’t too greedy, was I?”

“Hey, it’s an all you can eat place – no judgment there! They get loads of people eating a lot or a little every day,” you said as you got ready for bed. “Easier than catching your prey if you wanna be lazy and make people bring food to you for cooking.”

“It’s nice. I haven’t been this full in a long time,” Yoongi remarked. “So much meat but all so good. Thank you.”

You nodded and stifled a yawn before slipping into bed. Yoongi entered on the opposite side, throwing the covers over his body. You reached over to turn off the light before making yourself comfortable in bed and curling up on your side. You felt something wrap around your waist and your eyes opened, looking down to see Yoongi’s tail wrapped gently around your body.

His nose bumped against your back and you heard him mumble something about you being so warm.

“Much warmer than just being in the same bed,” he mumbled. “Why the hell didn’t I do this sooner?”

#BTS imagine #BTS hybrid AU #BTS hybrid #BTS Suga #BTS Suga hybrid #BTS Suga hybrid AU #BTS AU #Min Yoongi #Min Yoongi AU #Min Yoongi imagine #Suga imagine #tw: snake behaviors #yourkeeperoftherunners Original #number 2425