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incoherentbabblings · 4 years

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Tim gets himself turned into a cat for a week and is forced to stay at Stephanie's until the spell wears off on its own. Honestly, it's not as traumatic as it sounds. For Tim.

“I refuse to take responsibility,” Damian said. He was holding a glossy short haired black cat with a long face and sharp features. It had big bat ears and lovely big blue eyes whose pupils dilated when Stephanie looked at it. Damian held it out for Stephanie to take, lower legs dangling from a slim body. Its tail whipped from side to side, irritated.

Apparently, it was Tim after one ill-informed altercation with that magician villain who the Teen Titans and the Flash fought occasionally.

Stephanie smiled tightly to the point where Damian thought she was in physical pain.

“Do you want to come in? Have a cup of cocoa maybe?”

“Not even slightly. I have a litter box and some compostable wood pellets for litter,”

Oh my God –

“and father insisted that someone within Gotham care for him until this passes whilst he is off planet. Zatanna says it will end on its own in a week and is less likely to end in permanent brain damage than trying to reverse it artificially. More brain damage than Drake already –”

“Yes, Damian, I get it.” Stephanie sighed, pouting as she inspected Tim, still patiently dangling in Damian’s outstretched arms. “Do you understand us Tim?”

The cat – Tim – yowled in a way which sounded partly like a Siamese cat and partly like an car engine struggling to start, but Damian shook his head.

“No. His brain has shrunk to the size of a peanut. Apparently, he will remember nothing, which is good, all things considered.”

Stephanie frowned, then leaned down directly into the cats eyeline.

“Would you rather stay with me over Damian?” she asked it, regardless. “I guess it makes sense, mom is visiting Florida for the week…” she mused out loud, feeling supremely stupid.

Tim yowled again, and his pupils impossibly grew bigger.

Groaning, Stephanie conceded. “Fine, but –” wasting no time, Damian practically tossed the cat into her arms. She caught Tim clumsily, and he meowed in distress, scrambling up to cling to her shoulders.

“Ow, ow, ow! Claws. Claws, Tim ow!”

She held him tight under his little bum, and as she watched Damian run back to the Alfred chauffeured car for the bits and pieces she would need. Stephanie turned, leaving the front door open, and went upstairs to her room. Tim clung to her tightly, little claws making an imprint in her skin. When she reached her bed she leaned forward, letting him turn on his own and land on his feet in the centre of the mattress. He plopped down, sitting perfectly straight with his tail still swishing, and watched her as she proceeded to help Damian move all the pieces of kit inside. She placed the litter tray in the bathroom, wondering briefly about those YouTube videos she’d seen of cats using the toilet could be applicable. She sighed as she sat the plastic tray down, wiggling little wood pellets a couple of inches deep. Tim had come over to join her in the door frame. He looked up at her, and she looked down at him.

“Tim, I’m going to be scooping up your poo and pee. You better give me a big boon when this all over.”

Tim mewled, and to Stephanie it sounded like a bargain had been struck. Damian handed her a plastic bag filled with cat food – whatever Pennyworth did not wish to eat he explained – then left her to it.

“Do not let him go outside.”

“Yes, Damian.”

His round cheeks puffed up, and the bridge of his nose turned red like it did when he was embarrassed.

“Thank you, Stephanie.”

Somewhat mollified, Stephanie said he was welcome and then Damian and Alfred were gone. Shutting the front door, she turned around to see Tim sitting on the stairs, watching her.

Stephanie jumped, unnerved.

“How much of your peanut sized brain is like… at human level smartness?” she asked.

Tim sat quietly for a moment, watching her with those unnatural icy blue eyes. His tail, disproportionately long, smacked against the floor with a heavy thump.

“None then. Well, still, let me know when you want feeding. Or bathroom breaks so I can clean it up before it stinks out the house. I have to work on college. So… go take a nap or something. You probably need one.”

Tim blinked, stepped down the stairs, went through to the living room, sat on her sofa, and rested his head down. Like the cat he was, he was soon asleep in the late afternoon sun.

Stephanie followed him curiously, peered over the back of the couch, admiring his glossy coat then shook her limbs loose.

Just another day in the life, she told herself.

Having her ex-boyfriend slash transmogrified cat living with her for a week. Sure. Cats were distant creatures, and so were her and Tim in recent years. They could get through this week, surely.

Oddly, having another creature in the house made her feel more lonely.

*****

Tim had enough self-awareness to realise he was in fact a cat, but also not enough self-awareness to realise that there were certain behaviours he should not indulge in.

Nobody believed him that he could understand what was being said, so he decided to just go with the flow for the next six days. Abdicate all responsibility. Be feral. Receive the occasional pat on the head. All in good fun. Bizarrely, he was enjoying the drama of it all.

The first issue came about at dinner. He had woken from his nap with a hunger that he had never in his eighteen years (did that make him around two years old in cat years?) of life felt before. It was as if he had not eaten in weeks he was starving he was voracious he –

Needed help in opening tin cans.

Dammit.

Honestly, Tim would have been feeling much more humiliated and more willing to jump out of a window to end it all if he was not so sure that he would instinctively land on his feet.

Just a week. And Stephanie would take care of him, loathe as he was to admit it. She would find it uncomfortable and painful with each interaction, so he would take great care in staying out of her way. Things were awkward enough between them without the knowledge that she was going to have to brush him and feed him and clean up his poops and hairballs (he loathed how easily the concept of grooming came to him). He didn’t need to inflict anymore grief on her than she had already reluctantly accepted.

None of this stopped him from being very hungry when he woke up. He needed food. Preferably ten minutes ago.

He leapt down with a solid thud from Stephanie’s sofa, shaking his head to clear any remaining nap time fuzziness, then plodded upstairs. To his own ears, it sounded very cheery.

She had left her bedroom door slightly ajar, and Tim slid in. She did not hear him enter on account of her having a giant pair of red headphones blasting music at far too loud a volume to be good for her hearing. Or rather, he assumed they were red. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that his vision had been altered. Shades of red and green blended together in assorted shades of yellow and brown, and even the blues of the world was washed out and pale. Everything had a slight blur to it, especially for objects further away. When he had first been held up to Stephanie, he realised that the blue of her eyes now seemed almost grey, and her skin was sickly. Of this change, Tim hated the most.

She was leaning over piles of notes, hands stained with highlighter and pen ink. Tim noted her expression and found he did not like it.

She looked very sad.

He meowed to try and get her attention, but with her music playing as loud as it was, she did not hear him. Drastic measures were needed. He would soon be dead from starvation before too long.

He slinked up to the side of her chair, noting the convenient space between her lap, chest and desk. He looked up at her, yowling one more time to try and give her warning, but she did not notice.

Tim blinked slowly. Her eyes were wet.

He leapt up onto her lap, fully expecting her to shriek, to lift and throw him across the room reflexively. However, she just gasped gently, surprise quickly fading, and laughed. Good. The wet look in her eyes vanished with genuine joy. She paused her music, clumsily taking off the headphones and setting them on the desk. She adjusted her lap so Tim could sit more steadily and rested her hands at the base of his back and tail, scratching absentmindedly. He chittered at her and she raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“What?” she whispered conspiratorially. Oh, she was enjoying this. Tim grumbled, body vibrating, then hopped up another level onto her desk. With a purposeful tap, he smacked her wrist.

“What is it you little goblin?”

Rude. Tim yowled, and paced back and forth. Stephanie huffed, reaching to pick him up and put him down. When she turned, she saw her alarm clock on her bedside table. It was six o’clock.

“The time?” Her eyes widened with realisation. “Oh? Dinner time?”

His loud, drawn out meow made her wince, but she nodded all the same. “Alright then sir, come on. Let’s see what we can do for you.”

He merrily leapt down from her arms, jogging away down the stairs to the kitchen. Jumping up on the counter, he pawed insistently at the food still in the plastic bags Damian had brought. Food. He needed food. He was wasting away; why couldn’t she see…

“Right, what did Damian gift us with… Oh. Biscuits huh?”

Tim froze. Cat food. He was going to have to eat cat food.

He was a cat. But not that much. He was finding it difficult enough to imagine going in that litter box in not too long. He quietly made a little meow, distressed.

Stephanie opened the bag, and the smell of dry crunchy biscuits filled the air. Tim visibly gagged, and Stephanie quickly resealed the container.

“Yeah, I agree there Timbo. I can’t give you the wet food either, that jelly is disgusting... but your stomach can’t handle human stuff. You’re a carnivore now bud.”

She hemmed and hawed, opening assorted cupboards, looking for something suitable. Tim meowed mournfully. He was going to starve unless he ate the biscuits, but he so did not want to eat the biscuits.

“Oh!” Stephanie chirped, pulling a tin down. She held it up to him for inspection. “Tuna in spring water. That’ll do, right? But how much…”

Tim paced frantically back and forth as she googled portion sizes. Starving, starving, he was skin and bones, no chance for recovery. It had been eight hours since he last ate, how did she expect him to –

She placed a shallow dish in front of him, half of the can placed sweetly in front of him. She then placed down a small glass bowl, filled with fresh water. Uncaring of his dignity, he began to eat voraciously.

Stephanie leaned on the counter, watching him do so.

“I’m sorry there’s no milk. I heard cats are actually lactose intolerant, so just water for you this week.”

Tim ignored her, so delighted with the taste of fresh tuna that the lack of milk was so far down his list of priorities. It was only when Stephanie, in an apparent act of madness, reached down and ran a hand from his temple all the way along his back to the tip of his tail did he look up. Somewhere in the back of his little kitty brain, he noted that his muscles had tensed up, rising to the pressure of her hand as it made its way down his spine to make the contact firmer. Her hand was warm. He looked up from his feast, confused.

She was still smiling, but it looked melancholy to Tim.

“I don’t think you can actually understand me,” she said quietly, half speaking to herself. “Which is pretty expected for us. I think it’s just the fact that you’re a vocal kitty who isn’t going to remember anything in six days’ time. Which is just as well. I can tell you all my secrets then?”

Tim wanted to protest her falsehoods but found the taste of tuna too distracting.

Stephanie continued, “I’m going to go on patrol now. There’s been a monster of a case I’m getting nowhere with. I’m having another go tonight. Don’t sleep on my bed when I’m away okay?”

Tim wanted very much to yowl, to let her know that he could understand, and to ask her why she was being so mopey. It seemed more than just a sadness over his situation. He wanted to explain that, honestly, he was fine with it. Well, not fine. But he had endured much worse. He knew it was temporary, he knew things would return to normal soon, and he was warm, looked after and almost looking forward to a week’s peace.

So what if he was a slightly goofy looking black cat who had the sudden urge to lick himself clean every few minutes? In the grand scheme of trauma he had undergone in his short life, shitting in a box was pretty low on the list.

He tried to tell her it was fine, only to drop tuna all over the counter. In a fumbled attempt to clean up after himself, he licked the surface clean. Stephanie groaned, then rose away from him.

“Enjoy the evening Tim. Don’t bother me when I get back. Don’t puke anywhere.”

Tim, in fact, did not puke that night. He did use the litter box however and hated it. He tried very hard to make as little mess as possible, ensuring all the litter stayed within the box. He was here because of Stephanie’s good nature; he was not about to blow it.

He did, at around 3am, however, experience what he had heard Selina refer to as ‘the zoomies’. It was a frantic pent-up energy that he did not know how to expel. The only way that came to mind was to dash across the house in a desperate attempt to tire himself out so he could return to sleep. So, he ran, up and down the stairs, leaping off the banisters and hopping over chairs and coffee tables. He did so, bored out of his mind, until he saw the lights of her vehicle pull up. He ran up the stairs in time for Batgirl to crawl through her window. He sat patiently in her doorway, waiting for the right moment to greet her, when he saw she collapsed to the floor with a distinctive and heartrending cry of pain. His little heart pounded painfully at the sound, but he did not move.

He watched as she cursed up a storm, correcting her position so she could take off her costume piece by piece. She did so wincing, crying out, and swearing with each painful movement. If she had someone to help her, she would have been able to get ready for bed in much less agony. Whatever she had dealt with this night, it had been rough.

She crawled around on the floor, apparently unable to walk now that the adrenaline had worn off. She remained in her shorts and sports bra, and without showering, crawled into bed. Tim watched as she reached into her bedside table, pulled out two painkillers, and like a baby, swallowed them with some water from a sports bottle that stood nearby.

He thought he heard her very quietly cry to herself, but that couldn’t be. Stephanie did not cry. His hearing had been different since the transformation last night, sounds and noises did not compute the way they used to. The sound she was making very quickly stopped though, and instead Tim heard her very determinedly whisper to herself,

“Always better in the morning.”

It wasn’t a philosophy he completely agreed with. Sometimes the morning just brought clarity of the previous day’s horror. But her odd breathing stopped, and soon it was replaced with the deep gentle snoring of someone sleeping. Finally, Tim moved. He wanted to curl up next to her. Stephanie was warm, and he had discovered recently that he liked warm places. He wanted her hand to stroke him again.

But no. She had said to stay off her bed for sleeping. She has asked him not to bother her. She certainly would not be happy to find him sleeping next to her. Tim tried to remind himself that he was only getting away with certain behaviours because of his size, and there were some boundaries that he should not cross. What if she woke up in the morning, only to find that the spell had worn off early, and there was a naked human Tim Drake in her bed?

Oh no. That would be very embarrassing.

Besides, he didn’t have that kind of relationship with her anymore. He didn’t have the right anymore to insert himself into her space. They had decided not to pursue it. Not good for her, she’d said.

Tim could no longer remember his own reason. He suspected it was moot after she had become Batgirl.

And yet… she’d been crying. Tim wanted to help her. How could that not be good? Surely if he could provide comfort, if he wanted to provide comfort, she would allow it?

He turned away, not liking the way it felt like turning away from someone calling for help and returned to the living room sofa. He curled into a ball, and slept until the morning, whereupon the hunger pains hit him once more.

And so, a routine began. Tim would yowl like he was dying outside Stephanie’s door, reluctant to intrude whilst she slept. Eventually, Stephanie would emerge, ready to feed him chicken or another half a tin of tuna. He was not so secretly delighted at the way her eyes lit up with humour when she saw him, spinning in circles unable to contain his excitement, though Tim would note locations of bruises that had not been there the night before. She was struggling, it seemed.

She would then go take a shower, clean out his litter tray with a pithy comment, then go to class, leaving Tim bored until she would return after four, ready to clean his litter tray once more, provide dinner, then spend a couple of hours doing homework before leaving again for patrol. She would return at first light, looking more defeated with each passing sunrise. She would be smiling come the morning, but – even with a brain the size of a monkey nut – Tim saw it was shallow.

It did not escape Tim’s notice that she was going out of her way to avoid him. He understood it. She did the same thing when he was human. He would call for her help from time to time with a case, which she gave without reservation, just as she had done now for kitty him, but rarely, if ever, did she call for his aid.

Her stubborn independent streak had not abated with time it seemed, even when it came at the price of her safety.

That and she just seemed sadder than usual. Or was this usual, and he was just never around and allowed to view it?

His tiny mind whirled and churned, and with no outlet, he stewed, glaring out the window at passer-by’s and their dogs.

Regardless, on the fifth night, after hearing her stilted heart-rending sobs and half-hearted and self-inflicted words of comfort, he decided to break the one boundary she had set.

He jumped up onto the bed, moving until he had clambered on her sternum, then folded down into a loaf position. Stephanie tensed, unsure what game he was playing, until she felt him begin to purr.

She laughed brokenly, more of a whimper than a genuine expression of joy and reached up to scratch behind his ears.

Tim purred louder, to her delight.

“I’m having a bit of a rough time,” she spoke quietly in the dark, as if reluctant to break the thick, dark blanket of warmth and comfort. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be a burden.”

Tim gave a small ripple of a meow in response. She was not a burden.

“I can’t get a crack on this case,” she explained. “I make a dent, get hurt in a fight and am fine in the morning, but then so are they. I’ve hit a wall. But I have to do it alone. Bruce and Babs expect me to now… I have to…”

Her voice broke and she cut herself off. She smiled crookedly, painfully trying to dispel her sadness. Tim began to make biscuits. He didn’t understand why, but he thought the pressure would help. She was a little furnace beneath him, and he purred loudly, drowning out her shaky breathing.

Stephanie chuckled at the sensation of his little vibrating chest. She ran a hand down his back again, enjoying the smooth coat. Contradictorily once more her eyes became wet.

“Do you think, when you are back to normal, we could talk? There’s…there’s no-one else who would understand. Though I think I’d make Cass sad if I told her that. But I miss you. And I think it’s my fault.”

Tim shifted upwards, until his nose rested under her chin. He continued to purr loudly, nearly trilling with the force of it. Steph nuzzled in close and kissed his forehead and flicked his large ears.

“Silly boy. I hope you don’t remember this. You’d hate me for it.”

Tim meowed grouchily. How she could lie to herself like that…

They’d burned their bridge long ago. He knew this. And him being a cat for a week was not going to mend it. But it made his heart ache like nothing else to see her despondent. He silently promised himself that he would extend an olive branch before the end of next week. They couldn’t continue like this, tip toeing around each other with Tim occasionally stepping too close and making Steph flinch back away.

She wasn’t flinching away now though.

She picked him up so she could sleep better and set him on the pillow next to her. Turning on her side, she reached up and placed a soft, warm hand on his shoulders, rhythmically petting the fur there.

Her quiet sniffles died off, Tim’s purring acting as a lullaby, and she fell asleep before the sun rose.

Throughout the night he shifted closer, until he was practically resting on her head. He rested his chin on the crown of her head, her long golden hair acting like a silken pillow, and kept guard for the rest of the night.

*****

Stephanie awoke to her nose being licked. She opened her eyes blearily, and realised it was Tim cat. She blushed, remembering what had transpired last night. She told herself it was fine, opening up like that. It was only a cat. It was only Tim. Tim, who would be blissfully ignorant come the evening. Though that reminded her, she better lay out some clothes for him. Her mother was coming back at some point in the next forty-eight hours. The idea of her walking in on a naked Tim would cause a conniption.

She smooched Tim’s head, and he meowed cheerily at the wet smack, and continued to press up against her.

She had kept her distance at first, struggling to reconcile Tim with the little sleek gremlin cat meowing at her feet. It felt weird, so she – for a lack of a better term – ignored him. He would be so angry when he changed back, she wanted to avoid anything which he could extrapolate from the week as her being mocking or patronising.

Bruce’s anger she had learned to ignore, Tim’s she hadn’t figured out a knack for yet. It hurt, in a physical manner that she could not explain. Like he was kicking her in the gut again. She found herself actively taking steps now to avoid it. Avoid the concept of it.

But she was exhausted, physically, and emotionally. Years ago, when she would reach such a state, Tim would somehow figure it out and slink in through her window or take her on a quiet date. The two would hold on to each other, and let Stephanie catch her breath and perspective with a warm pillar of support behind her.

Despite Tim now being a cat, it seemed he still had this perception, and had sought her out to give comfort. Weird how animals could sense those sorts of things.

Fuck it, she thought. It was the last day, she was feeling miserable, and there was a perfectly cuddly vibrating fluff ball in her arms, who showed no signs of irritation and instead was offering comfort that she didn’t get much of in recent years. She was going to milk this for all it was worth. Maybe she could take some photos and videos later – humiliate or blackmail Tim later. All in good fun, of course. She never wanted to genuinely upset him.

She continued to give him sweet pecks on his head back and sides, which she thought he liked, as he meowed and headbutted her.

“Sweetie,” she praised, and she picked him up to cradle him properly. He flipped over, being held like a baby, as she continued to croon, “Last day as a kitty. Tomorrow you won’t remember a thing, and we won’t be able to talk like I am now… isn’t that sad? I think we should spoil you today. Lap of luxury and all that. It’ll keep my brain busy, if nothing else.”

He pawed at her chin, and she kissed his toe beans.

She spent an embarrassingly long amount of the day starfished on the floor, playing with Tim. He was a chatty little cat, more so than he ever was as a person. His meows sounded like a revving engine and were as long as he could hold his breath. He was graceful though, despite his lanky limbs and giant ears. He leapt from surface to surface and straight into her arms with seemingly no effort, and whenever she let him roll out of her embrace, he landed neatly on his feet every single time.

Stephanie couldn’t help it, but when she pulled out a little laser from her Batgirl belt, she recorded Tim’s feral delight, chasing a speck of red across the house. She laughed more than she had in a long while, partly because it had been so long since she had seen anything so unabashedly goofy as Tim as a cat, shaking his little bum, pupils dilated larger than dinner plates, in preparation to jump a red point of light.

It was delightful and made her wonder if she could convince Crystal to adopt a cat once she returned. Poor Tim, he’d have no clue what he’d endured come the morning, but at least in that moment, he seemed happy.

When it reached eight pm, Stephanie sighed, realising she had another night of patrol to face. Selfishly, she wanted to linger, to keep company with the cat, but she quickly shook that thought off. People needed her. She wanted her case over and done with.

“One last go,” she whispered. “I can do it tonight. I’m nearly there.”

Tim hopped up onto her lap and she was sliding on her gloves. She chuckled lightly and scratched under his chin. He purred, craning his neck to allow her better access.

“I’ll lay your human clothes out for you on my bed, okay? If it’s not fixed by the time I’m back… I’ll put you in your boxers and jeans and hopefully come morning…” She got up, hoisting Tim to rest on her shoulders, and tugged one of the plastic bags Damian had left for her. To her growing dismay, she realised there was only a pair of underpants. She looked sideways, Tim peering over her left shoulder. “Oh dear, Tim. Damian really is out to get you, huh?”

He chuffed, like he was grumbling to himself. She pecked him once more, and he meowed more firmly, hopping off her shoulders as she made her way to rummage through her wardrobe.

“I don’t want my mom to come back and find you in your undies in my room and me being AWOL. That would just be one step too much for her, I think. I still have some baggy sweatshirts…pants though… pants…”

She tossed clothes haphazardly, at one point burying Tim under a pile of bras and underpants that she shrieked at, loudly and joyously, when she realised what she had done. Eventually she found a pair of jeggings which she hoped would suffice. Tim looked almost suspicious. If he had eyebrows, they would have been raised.

“You have skinny legs,” Stephanie justified, feeling insane talking to the cat. “It’s fine. Just until the morning. I’ll drive you back and no-one will see your shame. Not even Damian. We’ll sneak. Promise.”

She carefully laid out the clothes, and shoved what she had carelessly tossed out her closet back in with equal zeal. Pecking Tim once more on the head, she moved the litter box into her bedroom and shut the door.

“I can’t have mom coming back to a half naked boy in my living room and a box of used kitty litter. You’ll have to stay in here. Hopefully, I’ll be back before she is. She said she’ll drive the whole way and not stop. So, maybe by seven in the morning? Fingers crossed.”

She opened up the windowsill, slinking her leg over. Tim hopped up on her desk, as if to follow her out.

“Uh-uh,” she warned, pressing on his wet nose firmly. “You have to wait here. Damian made me promise you’d stay inside. I can’t risk losing you.”

She caught herself speaking more desperately than she intended and shuddered. “You know what I mean. Naked boy CEO found running through the streets of Gotham is not the kind of attention the family needs right now. Be good, Tim. And thank you. You cheered me up so much today.”

One more kiss, then she was out the window, sliding it definitively shut. As she mounted the bike, Tim perched himself at the windowsill, watching her shoot off down the street.

When she was out of sight, he jumped down and paced endlessly, stressed and worried. She had been struggling so much with patrol, and he was unable to help her. Feeling utterly helpless, he jumped up onto her bed and settled on her main pillow. Curling up into a ball, he settled in to wait, praying that she would return home safely, and before Crystal arrived back.

He awoke, briefly, when he felt a soft pair of hands lifting him up. He chirped and chuffed, and it was Stephanie hushing him. She wrapped him up in his boxers and sat him next to her under the covers.

She was smiling, albeit a tired smile.

“I did it,” she whispered, scratching his ears. “Tim, I did it.”

Tim meowed a congratulatory chitter, and Stephanie smiled wider.

“Sleep now. I’ll explain more in the morning.”

In an act which utterly took Tim off guard, she pulled him closer, curling around him in a crescent moon shape. Under the covers in the dark, surrounded by her scent and soft breath, Tim began to purr once more.

*****

“Steph? Steph…”

Stephanie grumbled, then opened her eyes when cold fingertips pressed against her cheek. Looking at him with an expression Tim could not decipher (relief? Disappointment? Fright?) Stephanie inspected Tim up and down. He had put on his boxers and her sweatshirt but had yet to touch her trousers. Nevermind. He was kneeling on the floor next to her bed. According to her clock, it was just after six in the morning.

Right, Tim needed context.

“I suppose you are very confused right now… Being in my room in your undies… so let me explain—”

She yawned then, arms emerging from her duvet to stretch dramatically. Tim watched the muscles in her neck, then chuckled to himself.

“No, Steph. I remember.”

“Oop.” She froze, watching him anxiously, like an antelope faced with a lion. “Everything?”

“Everything.” He then snorted defiantly, “despite what Damian insisted, I was still me. Shockingly, he is not omnipotent.”

Chewing her tongue, Stephanie narrowed her eyes, not having it at all.

“Oh c’mon, you are lying out your butt.”

“Am not.”

“Are too! There’s no way you’d lower yourself to chasing my laser pen across my living room. Oh gosh, Tim, it must have been horrible…”

Tim shrugged, making a noncommittal noise.

“Maybe I wanted to catch that point of light, huh?” he teased. He then conceded, “Maybe I had a bit of trouble keeping cat me and human me straight in my head.”

“Yeah, that I believe.”

“But honestly, having a week where my biggest concern was whether I was getting tuna or chicken for my next meal was sort of refreshing.”

“I can find a way to turn you back if you like.”

“Hmm. Pass.”

Stephanie giggled, but cut off abruptly when Tim shuffled closer. She felt herself grow cross eyed as she watched him move in so intimately. Tim’s warm breath blew over her as he continued,

“Yeah well, having said that… You mentioned that I helped you. Cheered you up.”

Tim’s teasing look softened, and in that moment looked at Stephanie with such unabashed and unfiltered affection that she felt incredibly self-conscious. Tim was only in his boxers and her sweatshirt, and she was only in a baggy nightgown that she had tossed on when she had arrived home; the first time in weeks she had been uninjured enough to change her clothes.

“Maybe,” Tim continued, “I wanted to see you smile. You were so sad all this week… I needed to help you. Even if it was as dumb as chin scratches – as good as they felt – and chasing lasers. I… I heard you crying, Steph.”

Her arms came down from their stretch, and rested on his shoulders, fingers gently stroking back and forth.

“I’m okay,” she promised, like she was the one comforting him.

Tim’s eyebrows furrowed. “I could have helped you before now.”

There was no chiding in his tone, only pleading, but it made Stephanie feel guilty, nonetheless.

“I had to do it alone.”

“No, no you didn’t. You don’t have to be alone for anything.”

“You’re such a big softie.”

Tim laughed gently, “With you, sure.” Taking a deep breath, he moved even closer until he was practically leaning over her, tips of their noses touching. “Steph… I need to ask you something.”

Stephanie nodded, eyes growing damp. “Shoot,” she whispered, voice cracking and betraying the nonchalant words.

“Could we –”

Crystal opened Stephanie’s bedroom door, and the pair froze. Instinctively, Stephanie raised an arm with a shocked cry, slamming Tim in the face. He wheezed and shot up into standing, which only proved to give Crystal a good view of him in his underwear and daughter’s clothes. Looking somewhat dazed and yet unsurprised, she looked to Stephanie for whatever lie of an excuse her daughter could conjure up.

“Mommy!” Steph cried out. “I did not hear you get back. How was Florida?”

“I was being quiet since it was still early,” Crystal grumbled, unamused by Stephanie’s glib tone. “But then I heard talking.”

Crystal glared at Tim, who fidgeted, finding no dignity in any pose he maintained. Stephanie scrambled upwards so she was sitting, thankfully she had managed to put on pyjamas last night, and clambered for some excuse, any excuse.

“Tim was… It’s not… ”

Seeing her daughter fail to come up with some vaguely plausible non incriminating reasoning, Crystal turned to Tim, glaring holes through his head. He would crack in a way that Stephanie would not.

“Why are you here, Tim?” she demanded.

“I… I…” Tim began to shiver with nerves, face flushed red and eyes bright with panic.

“Where are your pants?”

Tim choked on air. “…I don’t have any. With me.”

“And no shirt either?”

Tim very much wished the ground would swallow him up.

“No.”

Stephanie groaned, throwing herself face down into her pillow. “Good job, Tim.”

“It’s the truth, Stephanie!”

Crystal’s fingers twitched on the door handle, and Stephanie could see one of her pressure headaches building, like a throbbing in her mother’s temple.

“You know what – just leave Tim. And we won’t discuss it again.”

Tim would take that and run. At least this time he wasn’t being chased out of a house with a shotgun like Ariana’s uncle had done.

“Sure. Sure. Can… Steph. Can I borrow your phone?”

“So someone can come pick you up?” Crystal snorted. “What? Don’t you have shoes either?”

Tim realised if Crystal had her way he would have been forced to run back to the manor. Death at this point really would have been preferable. Weakly, he just stated, “No, Mrs. Brown.”

Stephanie spoke at her mother and into her pillow, unable to look the embarrassing situation in the eye.

“Mom, please. The guy’s dignity has already been shot. Please don’t make him walk back to Wayne Manor in his tidey-wideys. I can give you a lift Tim, I said I would.”

“No, no,” Crystal insisted. “I’m sure you’ve done enough Stephanie.”

Stephanie shrieked, muffled but distressed. Dramatically, with exaggerated movements, she removed her phone form under her pillow and unlocked it without looking, then tossed it up the air. Tim scrambled to catch it, then dialled for the manor. Crystal stood aside, indicating it was time for Tim to leave the room. He looked back to Stephanie, still buried in her bed sheets. It was a look of desperation on his features that made Crystal feel almost guilty for separating the pair, but honestly, she did not trust her daughter, and she did not trust Tim, however soft spoken he may have been.

When Tim exited the room, Crystal shut the door with a definitive slam behind him. Turning back to Stephanie, she saw her daughter’s shoulders shaking with quiet crying. This only served to befuddle Crystal more, but before she could say or do anything else, a shallow container on the floor by her daughter’s desk caught her eye.

“Is that a litter tray?” she asked, confusion reaching fever pitch.

Stephanie raised her head to stare at her mother, eyes wet and pout overwhelmingly sad.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth.”

*****

“Alfred washed it. Got rid of all the cat hairs.”

Tim held up the blue sweater for Stephanie to take on her doorstep. She took it reverently and inhaled deep. Alfred always used an excess of fabric conditioner that made clothes smell lush. Tim, for his part, looked apologetic.

“I’m sorry you got drawn into all of that. I’m sorry I made you and your mom fall out.”

Stephanie said nothing, keeping Tim on the doorstep as she set down the sweatshirt. When she looked back to Tim, closing the front door behind her, she was struck by the thought that he seemed much younger than eighteen. He was scuffing his feet on the concrete, hands behind his back, like a bashful child.

“It was all because I was careless with Abra Kadabra and it bit me in the butt and Damian didn’t want to have to deal with me so he burdened you with it. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t a burden,” she replied quietly. “I liked it. The last day.”

“Oh,” Tim blushed, looking anywhere but in her eye. “Me too. For what it’s worth. Honestly, it was actually really nice. Relatively. In context. You know. In a not creepy way.”

“It must have been a bit weird. Like, don’t pretend it wasn’t. All that chicken and tuna you ate for one thing…”

Tim chuckled to himself, finding something very funny.

“Yeah my digestion has been wild the past week and... too much information. Sorry.”

Stephanie tried to catch his eye, but Tim kept his head stubbornly down. His feet must have been very interesting.

“You… you were going to ask me something, before my mom walked in,” she pushed.

He coughed, choking on nothing but his nerves.

“Was I?”

“Tim.” She reached out and took his hand. Tim flinched, then relaxed and finally gathered the courage to look her in the eye. She smiled, beautifully, always beautifully, and he squeezed her fingers.

“I’m sorry if it took me being turned into a cat to actually ask.”

“That’s okay. It happens for people like us. In a way I think it puts things into perspective. So, please ask.”

“You…”

He stared at her, admiring her, before finding words couldn’t do the job well enough. Instead, he leaned forward, meeting Stephanie who was also moving closer, and the two kissed on Stephanie’s front doorstep. She broke away with such a delighted laugh that Tim chuckled himself.

“Ask me,” she insisted.

Tim shook his head and kissed her again. Falling back against her front door, the two made out for a moment too long before Stephanie regained her senses. She pushed him back, laughing louder and more hysterically.

“Tim! No! You need to ask!”

Another kiss, this time accompanied by him picking her up and swinging her in a circle. Finally, Stephanie gave up and held him tight. Tim made a noise that she could only describe as a chirp of delight in response.

“You’re a little gremlin,” she muttered into his mouth. “Cat or otherwise.”

#dc #tim drake #stephanie brown #timsteph #my fic tag

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builders9 · 3 years

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Come in for all insights into Sand and its types

Sand is a granular material that is composed of finely divided rock and mineral particles. It’s outlined by size and is finer than gravel and coarser than silt. Sand may also be referred to as a textural category of soil. The textural category of soil contains over eighty-five % of sand-sized particles by mass.

WHAT IS SAND

MADE OF TYPES OF SAND

WHAT IS SAND PLANT

USES OF SAND

WHAT IS SAND MADE OF Sand is the conclusion of the many things, together with rotten rocks, organic by-products, and even percoidean poop. The meliorist biologist wrote, “In each curvilineal beach, in each grain of sand, there’s a story of the world.”Sand comes from several locations, sources, and environments. Sand forms once rocks break down from weathering and wearing over thousands and even various years. Rocks takes plenty of time to decompose, particularly quartz (silica) and spar.Starting then covering thousands of miles from the ocean, rocks slowly travel down rivers and streams, perpetually breaking down on the manner. Once they create it to the ocean, they additional erode from the constant action of waves and tides.The tan colour of most sand beaches is the result of an iron chemical compound, that tints quartz a light-weight brown, and spar, that is brown to tan in its original kind. Black sand comes from scoured volcanic material like volcanic rock, volcanic rock rocks, and different dark-coloured rocks and minerals, and is often found on beaches close to volcanic activity. Black-sand beaches are common in Hawaii, the Canaries, and therefore the Aleutians.The by-products of living things additionally play a crucial role in making sandy beaches. Bermuda’s preponderance of pleasantly pink beaches results from the perpetual decay of cellular, shelled organisms known as order Foraminifera.

TYPES OF SAND 6 types of sand used in construction:1. Concrete Sand📷Concrete sand is one of the categories of sands in India that’s made of crushed concrete. It’s a typical element of cement and asphalt mixtures. This sand is crushed within the quarry and filtered to get rid of the big rocks and big fragments. It’s a kind of coarse sand that may be mixed with cement and water and used as level base layers, patios, and walking methods. Once mixed with cement and water, it forms a solid mass that’s used to fill the voids between the coarse aggregates. It’s smaller-grained compared to crushed stone sand and hence is often used to construct softer pavements.However, it’s additionally larger than white sand and hence is often used as a filling material too. The dimensions and texture of this sand created is a perfect material for lots of functions. It provides basic stability to a building.2. Pit Sand📷Pit sand is a kind of sand that’s best to be used in the construction of buildings because of its superior binding property. It’s coarse sand that’s found 2-3 meters underneath the bottom. It’s obtained naturally from deep pits. It consists of rough, sharp, angular, and coarse grains that give glorious binding properties.Their look is red-orange because of the presence of iron-oxide. The grains of this construction sands are free from salts and thence they do not simply react with the wetness present within the atmosphere. Because of this property, they supply powerful and rigid made buildings.3. Stream Sand or Natural Sand📷River sand may is a fine quality of construction sand that’s found close to stream banks and streams. This sand is white-grey and is one of the fine hierarchic sands utilized in the development of buildings. They’re chiefly utilized in concrete and masonry work. They’ll even be used for RCC, covering, or block works. This sand consists of a swish texture and a much better form of grains. The stream or natural sand demands terribly less water. The wetness that is cornered between these sand particles serves sensible for numerous concrete functions. A medium quality stream sand consists of five to twenty percent of silt content.Since stream sand is obtained on its own hence is cheaper. These styles of sand contain oxide content in them. Therefore, it’s necessary to envision the quantity of oxide content and guarantee if it’s below 5%, before utilizing it for construction.4. M – Sand📷M-sand stands for factory-made sand and is one of the widely used sand for construction in the Asian nations. This sort of construction sand is factory-made within the factory. It will be used as a substitute for watercourse sand for concrete construction. Factory-made sand has been used ever since the demand for permanently quality sand has inflated speedily. This sort of construction sand made is ready by crushing hard granite and thus it reduces transportation prices of transferral sand from watercourse beds. It contains particles of angular nature that will increase the strength of concrete. These angular particles within the sand will increase its water demand. This water demand will be remunerated by adding cement content. Since it’s unnaturally factory-made, it contains zero silt content. There aren’t any outsized materials found in these kinds of construction sand.This is a kind of construction sand that’s simply accessible too. Since it factory-made and not natural, it will be free from any impurities and also the sizes of the sand grains will be controlled as desired that suits every purpose. Since they’re factory-made in very controlled surroundings, there’s little or no chance of adulteration of this sand and there’s higher management over the producing quality of the M-sand. The M-sand provides smart sturdiness and imparts high strength to concrete. It’s terribly economical and reduces construction defects.5. Utility sand📷Utility sand could be a style of sand utilized in construction. This sort of sand is created from top quality industrial quartz. This sort of construction sand provides glorious compaction and

smart mechanical properties because of its uniform grain shapes. It will be utilized in corrosive environments since they’re non-reactive. They contain 100% natural minerals which offer glorious sturdiness and stability to the building.6. Fill sand📷The Fill sand could be a style of sand utilized in construction, usually for filling. It’s a mixture of many grains of sand and aggregates. It consists of terribly fine rock particles that are lessened and undergone erosion. It will be primarily used as a base material for laying concrete, paving, and filling giant holes. Its glorious compaction makes it the right base material for many functions throughout the development of a building. It provides tons of benefits once utilized in wet areas to mend evacuation issues by serving as backfill around septic tanks.

WHAT IS SAND PLANT 📷The sand plant produces the crushed sand as an alternate of stream sand. We’ve got special sand creating machine like VSI device, sand screening machine like a vibratory screen. These sand crushing and screening instrumentation square measure for max productivity. Sand Plant Manufacturer additionally offers individual crushers and screens, further as key parts and carrying elements.Sand creating plant includes quartz sand creating the assembly line, building sand creating assembly line and stone material assembly line, all of that may turn out aggregates and crushed sand from sedimentary rock, granite, volcanic rock, and stream stone. All Sand Plants product square measure wide utilized in the development of hydraulic power station, artifact, highway, and concrete infrastructure.The sand plant operates as follows:Firstly, the materials attend the primary device for primary crushing. Then the materials are transferred by the belt conveyor to the secondary device for further crushing. Then the vibratory screen used to grade the materials, wherever the requirement is filled material is sent to the sand-maker, whereas the remainder comes back for an additional spherical of crushing. A part of the stones processed by the VSI device is created into the sand and become a sand product when being washed. The remaining are crushed by the sand maker into qualified sand materials of varied varieties.

USES OF SAND Followings are the common sand uses.• We will use sand to filter water, it works like an abrasive.• We will use sand to relinquish a position to our painting or wall art by combining a pair of cups of paint with a ¾ cup of sand.• People build sandpaper by gluing sand to a paper.• While bunging metal, we will combine sand with clay binder for frameworks utilized in the foundries.• Sand may be used for cleaning up oil leaks or any spill by dredging sand thereon spill. The fabric can type clumps by absorbing, and that we will quickly clean the mess.• Sand may be used as a road base that may be a protecting layer beneath all roads• Industrial sand is employed to create glass, as manufacturing plant sand, and as abrasive sand.• One artistic usage of sand is serving as a holder. We will attempt to swing some sand before running tea light-weight or any candle in an exceeding glass. It holds the candle still and refrain the candle from rolling by giving it a superb decoration.• Adds texture and aesthetic attractiveness to the house.• Sand is usually pure to handle and economically wise.• We will build a children’s pit to stay the play areas safer. It’s quite cheap furthermore.• Sand is also used in aquariums, fabricating artificial fringing reefs, and in human-made beaches• Sandy soils are ideal for growing crops, fruits and vegetables like watermelon, peaches, peanuts, etc.• Sand will light a path by filling mason jars with sand and tea light that is another cheap way to build a path glow.• We will keep a little scuttle of sand close to a charcoal grill for inundating flare-ups.• Sand may be used for cleansing slim neck receptacle by swing a touching sand and heat cleanser water within the instrumentation.• We will keep an item steady that desires repairing by victimization sand.• Sand helps to enhance resistance (and so traffic safety) in icy or snowy conditions.• We want sand within the beaches wherever tides, storms, or any style of creating mental changes to the bound crumble the primary sand.• Sand containing oxide is employed for creating shut in the car and food industry- even home merchandise for the room.• Sand may be a sturdy strand that is employed for plaster, mortar, concrete, and asphalt.• The usual bricks developed of clay solely is much weaker and lesser in weight than blocks product of clay mixed with sand

SUMMARYSand is a mixture of little grains of rock and granular materials that is especially outlined by size, being finer than gravel and coarser than silt. And ranges in size from 0.06 metric linear unit to a pair of the metric linear unit. Particles that are larger than 0.0078125 metric linear units and are smaller than 0.0625 metric linear unit area units are termed as silt.

#sand #building and construction materials

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chunhua-s · 4 years

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APPLE SEED ➽ ATTACK ON TITAN

genre: angst, fantasy

warnings: canon-typical gore and violence, hella long text

Chapter 1: In A World Where Little Girls Dream

Li Meixiang's laugh rang out like a chiming melody as she ran away from her older sister, her little toddler feet making heavy pitter-patter noises across the paved walkway. Not too far behind her was one Li Yiran, her dark eyes alight with mirth and childish glee as she pretended to growl with her hands stretched out in front of her in grabbing motions. "I'm coming to eat you, Meixiang!" Threatening in a noise caught between a snarl and cheerful laughter, she bared her teeth and made long, exaggerated footfalls that were meant to mimic how she thought a titan would move. Though she wasn't sure if she was doing it justice since she'd never seen one, it seemed to do the job perfectly, because her little sister squealed even louder and ran as fast as her tiny legs could carry her.

"Giant! Giant!" Meixiang, between giggles and laughter, cried out in tones and syllables of a language uncommon within Shiganshina as she hurriedly tried to escape the approaching 'monster.' However, in her excitement, the little girl stumbled over a pebble stone, and her squeals of joy turned to a single exclamation of shock and fright as she fell down on all fours, skin cutting against jagged rocks and drawing red lines across pale skin. Immediate in her reaction, Yiran rushed to pick her little sister up from her fall, stretched her hands out to lift her off the ground with a grunt just in time for her to start crying loudly. The older girl, with practiced expertise, used a hand to wipe the coming tears, body bouncing with Meixiang resting in her other arm.

"Where does it hurt?" She cooed lightly, couldn't help the grimace that formed on her lips as she glanced down at scraped knees. Scabs would form within the next few days, she bemused, though brushed an open palm comfortingly against her sister's chubby cheeks and pressed a soft kiss to one. "Let's go home and clean this up, hm?" she suggested, switching to the same Shuiguolian language that Meixiang had been crying out in so excitedly, if only for the benefit that she would at least feel comforted by the familiarity of tonal words spoken within their family. A pout formed on the younger girl's face, though she wasn't crying anymore, and simply nodded her head as Yiran turned around to begin the journey back to their home.

A sort of peacefulness hung over Shiganshina district on that warm, Spring afternoon, light breezes fluttering her skirt as she passed through gathering crowds, women with baskets full of fresh produce and men with watered down beer on their breaths. Little children younger than Yiran herself ran after one another, calling out carefree 'you're it—'s and 'the last one to get to the spot's gonna have to stick their shoe in cow poop—'s that had their friends hurrying to catch up. The marketplace, as was typical for a Saturday afternoon, bustled and overflowed with life, and while voices rang high in chatter and laughter, the world was made to appear as if all were right in it; as if there was no looming threat, no dark shadow that could ever threaten to pull the people from peace.

And yet, the entire market held its breath at the toll of the bell. All sounds of cheeky flirtations and passing gossip drew to a halt, and soon enough, the sounds of wagons and horse hooves could be heard against the rock pavement. Something heavy and suffocating replaced the cheer of mingling wives and gambling husbands, tinging the air with a sourness and disparity that clung to the green cloaks of bleeding men. The gate shuttered closed, a loud and ringing noise that drove through the hearts of every man, woman and child as the crowd parted down the middle, people moving to the side as the horses dragged in the men who danced so carelessly with death.

Here was the Scout Regimen, smelling of blood and rot, with hollowed eyes on haunted faces.

By now, Meixiang had stopped crying entirely and stayed docile in Yiran's hold, allowing the older girl to find a place close to the front where she could see the returning squadron. Around her, everything seemed to have gone silent so that the click-clack of the horses, the squeaking of the wagons would be the only thing heard among them. Every breath was drawn, every smile wiped clean, and even Meixiang didn't dare make a noise; the men and women who returned seemed to bring along with them the death that asphyxiated the world outside Wall Maria, left nothing in its wake save for the giant devils who were said took man's face. Yiran watched, with guarded yet curious eyes, the faces of the people who came back, saw the handful that were missing arms and legs; an eye, an ear; the carts filled so high that the white sheets blotched with old blood seemed about ready to flutter away with the next coming wind, to reveal just how large the piles of bodies that they were hiding were. Of those that had, not a single person raised their eyes, kept them glued to their feet or to the backs of their horses; even then, the glaring abyss that swallowed their gazes was not something lost on the girl of ten. Gaping pits of a cold, destitute something that was not quite emptiness, a void overflowing with a darkness that followed death, it stared back at her, reaching black tendrils out to wrap around her neck and pull her within its depths. What, she wondered somewhere inside that dark fog, through the haze of despair that took her breath away, was so worth throwing oneself into the jaws of hell; to gaze into eternal damnation, that these men and women rode on the backs of their horses, wings fluttering on an invisible wind and throats torn raw from their shouts for freedom.

She drew the breath that she'd neglected to take, as if she was suddenly pulled out from that cold, cold place and up to the surface when a woman pushed through the crowd from the other side, a frail old lady with greying hair who called out a name. "Moses, Moses!" She looked all over, quivering eyes trailing over defeated faces, and with each one she passed over, Yiran could see her becoming more desperate. "Where's my Moses? My son?" The woman pleaded with a wavering tone, lips drawn back in what was a hopeful smile that quickly withered away with every unfamiliar face she passed over. "He should be with you all, he—" Yiran swallowed hard, the reaction unbridled as she anxiously bit the inside of her cheek, "He said he was coming back to me?"

The commander was a tall man, brooding and like a tower, but his presence before the old woman seemed so shrunken, as if he would sink into himself and crumble at any given moment. Golden eyes were dim in the sunlight, lacking the lustre and vigour with which they had departed only three days ago. Before them was not the man who cried out "For Humanity—" at Maria's gate, but the shadow of one who had lost hope for a better future, one that considered that, maybe, there was nothing beyond the Walls but despair and desolation.

His cries, just like they had been on the day of departure, were thunderous, rang through the otherwise quiet marketplace, thrummed in her chest like a second heartbeat. Here, under the burning sun and the disdainful eyes, his own voice rang high with the woman's scream, both of them collapsed to their knees as Moses' purple arm hung clutched tightly in her grip, her shoulders held so that she could look into this shameful commander's face. "It's my fault he's dead—" came from his lips in hoarse shouts, his voice cracking in places where the guilt wrapped its hand around his heart and squeezed tight enough to stop his breath. "I lead them to their deaths and we have nothing to show for it!"

In that moment, it was as if the world herself stopped spinning, observed with odium as this reproachful servant pleaded with her for forgiveness. 'Forgive me for all those lives I ended,' he would beg, neck wound tight in the hands of the dead men who walked in his shadow, squeezing and clawing until the phantom sensation would leave him gasping for air. 'Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me, forgive me—' but he knew that there would be no mercy to be found for a devil like him, that he would never be able to atone for the deaths of his soldiers. Since the day he took the position of commander, he had already claimed for himself a special place in hell, and he was too far gone to ever have a chance at redemption.

There is no rest for the wicked, he learned that lesson quickly.

It was only after the last of the green cloaks disappeared well behind the crowd when Yiran finally let her breath go, a heavy exhale that staggered from her lips as her heart began beating again. She blinked her eyes rapidly, shook her head to clear out the fog that had begun to settle in her mind, to break away from the trance she seemed to fall into. As she did, the rest of the people began to move as well, though in place of the amiable smiles and laughter that rang through the market before, there were frowns and murmurs from the tax-paying public, shared dissatisfaction against the band of fools who insisted on searching for what lay beyond the Walls. "Always good to see what my money's being wasted on," one man grumbled to another, contempt lacing his words as he ran a hand through brown hair. His companion agreed, though Yiran didn't hang around to hear their response as she worked her way through the dispersing groups. The heavy atmosphere surrounding her was beginning to make her head feel clogged, oppressive in a way that made her feel as if she had her head under water the longer she stayed.

An unintelligible gurgle from Meixiang did well to quell the emotions rising up in Yiran's chest as she found herself within the more residential parts of the outlier district, the noise sounding close to her ear while her younger sister busied herself with gently pulling at strands of black hair. A smile found its way to her lips, a familiar feeling of fondness replacing what ugly sentiments settled on her tongue as she hoisted the two-year-old toddler from one hip to the other. Absentmindedly, she mused at just how much the little child who she used to lift up with ease, had grown; it felt as if she had suddenly gone through a growth spurt over the past year, leaving behind the tiny baby in place for a rapidly growing girl. The thought of it made her feel nostalgic. "You must be ready for lunch now, huh?" She mused, meeting Meixiang's gaze, laughed when she nodded eagerly. "I'll look after something for you when we get inside."

No sooner than she said so had their house finally come into view, not dissimilar to the ones surrounding it and identifiable by the weathered dreamcatcher that hung on their front door. Blue feathers were faded to an almost white, and the silver coating had lost its shine, to a dull rust, deep red against an earthen brown. The door swung open under her palm, the ornament chiming softly as Yiran let herself in. Small dust particles fluttered about in a familiar dance, the sun's rays lighting up the small dining room for them as they moved around, carefree and elegant in their performance. The house smelt strongly of soup broth, the aroma floating softly on its way to the doorway. Ah, that's odd, Yiran contemplated, brows drawn together as a puzzled frown pulled at her lips. She hadn't cooked before she took out with Meixiang, and even if she had, she didn't remember having any of the mushrooms she would have needed for the broth.

It took her by surprise when Meixiang hopped out of her hold, inspiring a quick second of fear in poor Yiran as she worried that she would hurt herself yet again. Despite her worries, the child stomped on with loud footsteps, wooden floors creaking under her little toddler feet as she giggled and squealed happily.

"Mama! Mama!"

There was a responding laugh from around the corner as Meixiang disappeared behind it. No sooner had she gone, Yiran heard her cry out again as a woman's cheerful voice sounded out in Shuiguolian tongue.

"My baby girl!" Mirth and joy sounded true in Li Tao's voice as she held her younger daughter to her chest, took delight in the cheerful bubbles of laughter that rose from the tiny body. Yiran felt her own lips stretching with a smile at the sight of her mother standing in their kitchen, though she held off on throwing herself at the woman who was still dressed in her khaki pants and dress shirt. Instead, she pulled her hands together behind her back and allowed her fingers to find purchase in the folds of her red skirt. She took to rocking back and forth on the heels of her feet to keep herself from pouncing.

"When did you get back?"

With her ever present smile and endearing expression, Tao looked to her older daughter. "About an hour ago," she answered as she let Meixiang down from her arms to set her on top of the wooden table, checking the wounds on her knees when the child poutingly pointed at them. "Oddly enough, we haven't been seeing too much traffic in the forests these past few weeks, so the big shots decided to cut back on our hours until activity picks up again."

That puzzled Yiran: the Forest of Giant Trees was always most popular in the spring time, flourishing with wildlife and nature as the winter passed away and animals began to venture out from their hiding places. The forest was Shiganshina's main tourist attraction, a blessing that it grew close enough to the district for the officers to take advantage of their impossible heights and advertise them as a popular tour hut. Her mother worked as a tour guide there, often left early in the mornings and returned well into the evenings. It was worse during the spring and autumn seasons when the forest began changing itself to face the oncoming weather: as life returned to the branches in the warmer months before their leaves would scatter across the forest floor in picturesque shades of browns and oranges. During those days, Tao would be gone for days at a time, leaving Yiran to take care of her younger sister by herself. This spring, it seemed, would be different.

The woman was lean and of average height, her hair pulled behind her neck in a low ponytail and a fringe that hung across her brow, cut sharply to frame a youthful face. Obsidian eyes shined deeply in the dining room's light as she turned to meet Yiran's gaze to just her thumb out to somewhere behind her. "Could you go get the ointment from the bedroom and put some on Mei's cut, please dear?" She asked sweetly, a grunt coming from her lips as she straightened her back. Briefly, her lips pursed and brows furrowed, making a muted show of the exhaustion that must have been pressing down on her body. "After that, come help me in the kitchen — I picked up some stuff for chicken mushroom soup."

At that, Yiran's face lit up, a grin threatening to spread across her lips as she mock saluted — "On it, Ma'am—" before she hurried past the table and to the bedroom. Upon crossing the threshold, she made a beeline for the dresser, spent a few seconds glancing between different bottles of cream before she finally found the little brown jar, the words "cut ointment" written on top of the cover in the common tongue. As she reached out for it, her eyes trailed to their shared bed where a little grey blanket lay strewn atop the thin spread. Meixiang's favourite blanket was time worn and dirty, brown spots were obvious even from this distance. Yiran grumbled to herself, the expression without malice as she wondered just when the sneaking little girl found time to dig her most prized possession up from the pile of dirty linen and laundry. With a huff, she retrieved the blanket and turned to the hamper in the corner of the room, took great care in hiding the tiny thing beneath the pile of sheets that needed to be washed soon. Very soon, Yiran bemused, because it was only a matter of time before Meixiang would be looking to recover her blanket once more.

She made quick time on dressing her little sister's scratches, planting a healing kiss on each of her cheeks before she washed her hands off and stationed herself by her mother's side. Immediately, she was made busy with slicing up the ingredients that Tao hadn't yet done, hands moving just a bit slower than she would have liked them to as she tossed what was finished into the broth. Her mother, between their hustling, recounted stories about the tourists and her colleagues from work, laughed at silly Sheenian travellers who came dressed in oversized coats and gasped in horror for the poor boy who somehow got stuck way up on one of the highest branches— "We had to wait for one of the Garrisons to come take him down with his ODM gear!" Tao chuckled, hands busy with chopping pieces of the chicken to fry before they would join the broth. Somewhere behind them, Meixiang was making herself busy with running around the dining table; no matter that she had only just had her knees dressed up, she was back to whisper-shouting "Giants, giants—" in her inside voice.

"The commissioner's thinking of having employees train to use ODM after that incident," Tao heaved a sigh, gaze thoughtful as she lifted her attention away from her task to look out at something outside their window. Yiran winced at the idea, pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she said,

"But isn't training for that supposed to be dangerous?"

The woman glanced towards her daughter, and it was now that Yiran could see the lines beginning to form on Tao's face, noticed how her body leaned ever so slightly against the countertop. She hummed in affirmation as she returned her attention to the poultry on the cutting board, "It is, but I think they're worried that the next time something like this happens, we might not be lucky enough to wait for help to arrive."

It wasn't a baseless concern, Yiran noted, ignoring the question of how the child would have gotten up one of those trees in the first place. Still, she didn't feel easy about the training that her mother would have to undergo. She'd heard more than enough horror stories of soldiers in training who lost their lives, due to some malfunction with their gear or from falling to their deaths. "Of course it's just a precautionary measure," Tao added belatedly, as if she could hear her daughter's thoughts, "so I imagine it'll only be a handful of us that will actually need to do it."

Yiran didn't add anything to that, didn't speak out on the relief that Tao's words brought her and instead kept her hands busy with chopping vegetables to add to the broth and allowing a not quite silence settle over them that was only disturbed by their work in the kitchen and Meixiang's playing. Softly, she began to hum the tune of a lullaby that Tao had taught her, the melody of it soothing and familiar in its sad tale as she went through the motions of bringing her knife down on the cutting board.

"Shan gui," Tao's voice was warm and wistful as she recalled the melody's name, a sigh falling between her words and her smile curled into a melancholic expression. Her gaze found that of her older daughter's, and, for the second time that day, Yiran could see clearly the weariness that sapped the woman of her youthfulness. It was during those moments when it would seem as if the woman bore the weight of the entire world on her shoulders, as if she was fighting against an invisible force that no one else could see; it dragged her down and chipped away at her spirit, and she would always be left looking a bit smaller than she really was.

The girl took a breath, hesitant in her next words as they fell from her lips in a whisper:

"Do you... miss home?"

Onyx eyes wavered for a split second, exposing the lake of raw feelings that hid behind their dark colour before Tao shook her head once to recover. "A little," was her truthful answer as she finally cut the last piece of the chicken. The resounding sound of the knife chopping down against the wooden cutting board was nearly deafening. With pursed lips, she reached beneath one of the counters, coming back with a frying pot and a bottle of olive oil, one that thankfully lasted them for a long time since she bought it over half a year ago. ("It's too expensive to waste it all," she had said with a firm tone. Yiran didn't disagree.) "I don't regret leaving though."

Meixiang's incoherent gurgles seemed so loud within those next few seconds, ringing out like church bells in an empty courtyard that served to drive Tao's resolve home. The woman turned her eyes upon her little girl and Yiran followed after a moment's grace, having watched her expression simmer out of the stress lines and markings. No longer was her smile bitter and hurting, but instead became brilliant with something so overwhelming that it felt as if it would fill Yiran's chest up and spill over. It was the same one that she had worn on her face, two years ago, when they ran away from that little village by the lake. Hopeful and promising, telling of a young woman's deepest prayers.

"That night when I took you and Meixiang," Tao was almost whispering, as if she feared that an eavesdropping wall would capture her words and scatter them to the winds, "I was so scared that I wouldn't make it far with you two... I was scared that they would catch us and bring you right back to your father—" The words caught in her throat, threatened to choke her; she took a deep, gasping breath, "But when I thought of you, of how you'd have to grow up only to bear someone's children before you were ready— I didn't want that life for you... I didn't want you to have to turn into a slave for your husband and his family—"

"I know, mama," Yiran said, her voice just as hushed as she reached out her hand to hold her mother's, "I know." When the woman's eyes met hers, she smiled softly, hoping that it would show everything her heart felt. Although she had only been eight years old at the time, Yiran was old enough to remember what life had been like in their lake village. The life they left behind, one where little girls and women were hardly any more than servants and child-bearers; where they were sold off at a young age to be an older man's wife; where they would have no value unless they gave their husbands a son, and would be cast aside in favour of a second wife or a concubine if they remained unsuccessful... Yiran had grown seeing the way that her mother was treated in the village, shunned and disgraced especially after Meixiang was born. Women who had their little boys suckling on milk, others who were big enough to be running around freely, they all turned her into an outcast, scorned her as if she was cursed; and truly, they must have believed it. After all, how could any woman be so unlucky to give birth to two daughters and not a single boy?

She believed that the tipping point must have been the day when Yiran first flowered and her grandparents began to talk about finding her a husband. It hadn't even been more than a day before they started planning, readying themselves to find a rich man who was looking for a wife; she remembered feeling terrified, on the verge of tears as her mother held her tightly and talks of her marriage spread about in a horrid kind of excitement. A week later, they ran away in the dead of the night; Tao pulled both of her daughters on a wagon, didn't stop until she reached the outlier district of Shiganshina two days later.

Here in their kitchen, Yiran no longer needed to marry a man who would treat her as nothing more than a slave. Here in Shiganshina, her mother didn't need to suffer because of her failure to have a son. They could choose their future, wouldn't need to abide by cruel customs and live only to serve their husbands and their would-be families.

Here, they had the chance to be free.

Tao was on the verge of tears as she hastily wrapped her hands around her older daughter's body, her grip full and encompassing despite how awkwardly she held her with her messy hands. "I love the both of you," she said. Her voice broke off in places, overflowed with so much emotion that it could have choked her. "So, so much... I only want the best for the both of you, you know that right?"

It was all Yiran could do to nod, fighting back her own tears as she brought her hands around the woman's figure. "I know."

There was the sound of padding feet before they both felt Meixiang throwing herself at their legs, a delightful giggle sounded from her as she looked up at them with the biggest smile. "Jiejie, mama! I love you!" She squealed as Yiran bent to lift her up, wasted no time in slapping two chubby hands across her older sister's cheeks with innocent laughter tumbling out of her tiny self and straight into Yiran's swelling heart.

"Oh!" Tao cried after a moment had passed, lifting a finger as if she had a lightbulb moment. With a widening smile, she turned to give Yiran her side, tutted her hip out in an awkward-looking gesture. "Reach into my back pocket — I brought something for you!"

Curious, Yiran lowered her sister to wash her hands in the sink, then once her hands were dry, did as Tao had told her. When she pulled back her palms, she held in them three silver coins. Yiran's eyes widened as she looked back up at Tao's smiling face. "Mama, isn't this too much??"

The woman made a 'psh!' noise, using a hand to fan away the girl's concern. "We're not supposed to take tips, but a nice old tourist gave me this before she left," she nodded to the coins in Yiran's hands. "Go out into town for a bit, I'll handle the rest of the food."

As if sensing her growing uncertainty and reluctance, Tao's smile turned gentle, eyes warm with reassurance as she said, "Seriously, don't worry about it so much. Think of it as a small allowance?"

Yiran sighed, relenting under her mother's insistence and knowing that she wouldn't be able to return the money without a fight. "Thanks mama," she chuckled wearily and retired from a fruitless battle, at which Tao's face immediately lit up in youthful triumph.

"Leave Meixiang here," she said before Yiran could turn to get her sister. When she began to ask if she was certain, the woman eagerly nodded, making 'shoo' motions with her hands as if to hurry the girl out of the house. "Yeah, yeah it's fine! Go enjoy some time alone for a bit!"

Sighing once more at the woman's insistence (truly, sighing was all she seemed to be able to do these days), Yiran only had a few seconds to give Meixiang a parting kiss on her forehead before Tao began to shoo her out of the house again. "I'll try to bring something back for you two!" She promised once she stood outside the door, laughing lightly at her mother's responding "Forget that, just spend it on yourself!"

The sun had already begun to fall behind the horizon when she returned to the market, the dying light scattering across the sky in bright oranges and deep purples in the picture of an ancient oil painting. Whatever dark sentiments that had settled over the district's people earlier in the day seemed to have been swept up by the season's wind, and what was left behind was a day's-hard-work type of exhaustion as people packed up their stalls and waved away at the last of their customers. Yiran, bemoaning the fact that Tao had made her go out at such an odd time when most stall owners would be returning to their homes, walked aimlessly by the different vendors, eyes quickly scanning over the few who remained and the items they sold. For Heaven's sake, she sighed through her nose, she didn't even know what to buy. How was she meant to spend three entire silver coins? More importantly, what kind of tourist walked around with that kind of money, only to turn around and give it as a generous tip to their tour guide? A cross between astonished and incredibly amused, Yiran could only imagine just how rich a person would have to be to not worry about the kind of money they handed out so carelessly.

Grumbling, she messed around with the coins in one palm, slowed her pace until she came to a complete stop in the almost deserted marketplace. Sounds of easy laughter and satisfied exhales fell around her in ambience, painting Shiganshina district as a peaceful picture under the darkening sky. In a couple more hours, after the pleasant cheers and smiles have been shared over a nice, warm dinner, patrons and soldiers would gather in crowds by taverns and alcohol houses to laugh with each other in careless spirit, flirt freely with the serving women and complain about their troubles. It was the easy, familiar pattern that let the people breath so calmly, that allowed them to kick their legs back and bask in the serenity of mundane life.

"Ay, young lass!"

There was a voice that called out somewhere behind her, deep and a bit throaty that had her turning to look in the direction it came from. What she found was a slightly overweight man who grinned behind a large beard, the smile broadening when her eyes met his. Eagerly, he beckoned her over with a meaty hand, and when Yiran finally came to stand before his stall, she was able to see the items he had scattered across the blue tarpaulin sheet. Fine jewellery and stones of different colours; ruby reds and deep lake blues, silver rings and more ornaments than she could ever imagine being in one place. "Yah looking to buy somethin' nice?" The vendor proposed with his wide smile, didn't even give the girl a chance to respond as he held his hand out to his collection, "Yah ain't gonna find any lower prices 'roun here for these fine things, I tell yah! A real easy deal I'll make with yah so long as yeh got the money on yeh!"

Giving the man a polite smile whilst trying her best not to be overwhelmed by his enthusiasm, Yiran took some time to consider the array of glittering rocks and jewels out on display. The colour variation was almost dizzying, even under the dimming light of sundown, and the girl felt her head swirl a bit from all the different shades of greens and yellows. It was a near relief when her eyes fell over to one silver necklace, the thin chain looped through a small, silver band. Compared to everything else the man was selling, it was almost so ridiculously plain that Yiran wasn't sure how she didn't spot it sooner. "How much is this one?" Fighting back a wince at her accent, she pointed out the silver necklace, followed the man's hazel gaze as he found the jewel in question.

"Ah, that one's got a twin," he hummed, thoughtful before he turned around to a wooden crate behind him to rummage around in for a few seconds, during which Yiran respectfully looked away from his glaring bald spot. When he turned around, there was another silver necklace hanging from between his fingers, similar to the first with a slender, silver ring on its chain. "How much do yah have?" He asked instead of naming a price, at which Yiran took a moment of pause before reaching into her skirt's pocket to pull one single coin. Hoping (and further doubting) that the man would ask for more, she maintained a façade of innocence when the man's eyes widened and his mouth fell slack.

"Is this enough?" Heavens, she really needed to improve her use of the common tongue; she inwardly bemoaned the fact that, although not as thick as it had been two years ago, her accent still persisted in the way that the words fell from her lips. Certain combinations felt uncomfortable, entirely wrong in their pronunciation as her lips curled around new vowels and syllables. No doubt she would need a longer time to feel even the slightest bit confident in her speech.

"Blimey, where'd yeh get that kind of money from, lass?" The vendor appraised, taking the lone silver coin from her fingers and turning it over a few times in his own hand, "'s not often yah come cross one o' these here in the district." Once he was satisfied that it wasn't some type of counterfeit, he pocketed the money before happily handing over the pair of necklaces. Yiran thanked him politely as she searched for and located the clasps on each, lifted her hands to close them around her neck. A wince slipped from her as the second one snagged painfully on her hair, pulling taught at a single strand. Ah, she pondered within herself, it had been a while since she last cut it. Now, black strands had grown well past her shoulder blades, edging a little too close to her mid-back for her liking. She would ask Tao to trim it back to just below her shoulders when she returned, later when Meixiang would be sleeping so that she wouldn't cry. The little girl, for a reason that was lost on her, always preferred that Yiran grew her hair long for her to play with, and would always make a fuss if she ever caught sight of a blade close to her older sister's person. Yiran couldn't help but smile fondly at memories of the girl pouting, arms folded over her tiny chest with such thick accusation in her face that she could only lift her up and smother her with raspberries until she would laugh again. Then Meixiang would move on from the betrayal, content with making do with the shorter strands until they would grow back in the following months; admittedly, she was the reason that Yiran didn't cut it all the way to above shoulder length in the first place.

"A gift for someone?" The vendor asked harmlessly, at which Yiran returned his smile as her hands felt for the little rings. They were cooling against her warm fingertips.

"For my little sister," she nodded her confirmation, watched as the man's expression eased into something warmer, gentle and full of endearment as he put a hand on his beard.

"Y'know, I've got two kids m'self," the man told her with a bit of boastfulness, that and the sound of fondness ever-growing in his tone and eyes lighting up with the same sentiment. "One of em's gone off to become a soldier, the other one's about yer age." A sigh falls from his lips as his gaze falls somewhere beside him, distant and reminiscent in memories that Yiran wouldn't see. "Close as thieves, them two," he chuckled, "The lil' one's hell bent on goin' off to train just like his big brother."

That drew the smile on the girl's face into something friendlier, her guard coming down as the man told her about his sons. "Real troublemakers, I tell yah," his laughter rumbled through his chest and into the emptied market, echoing with his strength and vigour, "Coulda neva kept themselves quiet without causing a ruckus somewhere... They'll do well to learn some discipline up with them soldiers. Speaking of, what'cha planning to do when yer big, girlie?"

The question pulled some sense of gravity over Yiran as she met his gaze with a sheepish grin. "Well," she muttered, averted her gaze to the cobble stones beneath, "I want to become a scholar..." It had been her ambition ever since she'd learned about the idea back in her village, having easily become enamoured with glorified promises of more knowledge and understanding than could be contained by one person alone. But, as was the case for every endeavour that didn't tell of raising sons and marrying young, women and girls wouldn't even dare to dream to rise to such power. As far as their customs dictated, they would have no need to learn themselves in matters outside of childbearing and servitude, weren't even taught to read in their own language. Her mother warned her to lock her dream away when she'd first told her in the middle of a hot summer's day, while her stomach was swollen with her second child and other wives gossiped about the chance of it being another girl. "Don't let anyone hear you say something like that," she said, voice hushed yet frantic, desperate, beseeching. "I mean it, Yiran — don't mention it ever again!"

Another exuberant laugh from the man shocked her out of her thoughts, returned her to the present where the vendor held a hand over his large stomach. "Ambitious, aren't yah?" His grin lacked the doubtful, judging edge that she expected, instead only bearing with it the same friendliness and light-heartedness that he boasted during their talk. "I'll say, that's a mighty pricey dream you have there, lassey," he said, and Heavens, Yiran didn't need to be reminded, had heard enough stories of young, dreamy eyed men and women who set their sights on the innermost wall, only to find themselves with a mountain of debt for their pursuit of knowledge. "Although, you'll have plenty o' time to rack up yer funds if you start saving now." His eyes closed with his gentle expression as he gave her a thumbs up, his next words ringing loudly enough that it filled up the entire street.

"Ain't no dream too big, kid — do what yah feel is right for you."

Something swelled up in her chest with his encouragement, big and all encompassing and she smiled brightly up at this vendor. So many things were different here, she couldn't help the thought that intruded her mind; so many opportunities and chances had all opened up to her when she fled with her mother and stepped behind Maria's inner gates. It was such a heavy contrast to the world she grew up in, and even now she finds herself breathless at the vastness of it all — a life where little girls could dream, could rise above themselves and hold their own futures.

This, she considers as she stands in the empty market, smiling with an old man who didn't ridicule her for her aspirations, must be the most beautiful moment in life.

Before she could utter words of gratitude to the vendor, something lit up the evening sky, struck straight through the purple and orange with a vibrant, dangerous yellow that was just too out of place, too sharp and piercing against gentle strokes of sunset. A loud, ringing explosion shook the jewellery stand with incredible force, threatened to turn Yiran from off her feet so that she had to grasp the edge of the wooden frame to keep her balance. A glance with the old man revealed him to be just as disoriented, just as confused by the sudden tremor, a "what in the world—" tumbling from his lips in a shaky breath before he made haste to the edge of the district. Confused and worried, Yiran followed him in short, shaky strides to where a crowd had already gathered in front of the wall, where the world still seemed to tremble in the aftershock of the explosion. A quick survey of their faces left the girl with a sinking pit in her stomach; lips drawn over their teeth in the beginnings of a scream, eyes blown wide enough that they could pop out of their skulls. A few had even begun crying, falling to their knees in something so akin to helplessness and despair that it had Yiran's gaze following to where they were looking.

What she saw immediately sent her into the same crippling terror.

Standing over the wall was a behemoth, a monster whose face bore nothing over its muscles, the red so horrifyingly stark against the backdrop of sunset clouds and fading light. Steam rolled from its body in waves, hailing in flickers of smoke and embers that seemed to roll over the entire town, suffocated the inhabitants with a profound, absolute relentlessness. Yiran felt as if her body had been doused straight into a pit of hot water when its eyes found her own, couldn't dare to bring herself to look away if even for the slightest moment. No thought could formulate over the pure, undiluted fear that locked her in place, no words would dare fight past the talons that gripped at her throat and crushed her very breath from her soul.

For the second time that day, the world stopped spinning, turned her eyes to gaze upon the cattle in condemnation and scorn as the Devil reared its great head, her smile wicked just as it is punishing. For the first time in her short, ten years of life, Yiran knew a kind of horror that surpassed even the helpless fear that she felt in her little lake village, one that easily outclassed the nightmares that chased away her dreams and ambitions.

This kind of fear... it was enough to cut her throat a hundred times over, rip her to shreds until she was nothing but a screaming, shivering mess.

A loud rumble, another tremor; the first chunk of rock that was set flying, it fell on the kind vendor, squished his large body so seamlessly, splattered his insides across her face, her clothes, her hair. The first scream tore from her own lips as Shiganshina's blanket of peace quickly dissolved into the oppressive waves of a waking nightmare.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #oc #original character #oc fanfiction #unedited #shiganshina #small canon divergence

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a-dinosaur-a-day · 5 years

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Bucorvus

Southern Ground Hornbill by Neil McIntosh, CC BY 2.0

Etymology: Hornbill Crow

First Described By: Lesson, 1830

Classification: Dinosauromorpha, Dinosauriformes, Dracohors, Dinosauria, Saurischia, Eusaurischia, Theropoda, Neotheropoda, Averostra, Tetanurae, Orionides, Avetheropoda, Coelurosauria, Tyrannoraptora, Maniraptoromorpha, Maniraptoriformes, Maniraptora, Pennaraptora, Paraves, Eumaniraptora, Averaptora, Avialae, Euavialae, Avebrevicauda, Pygostaylia, Ornithothoraces, Euornithes, Ornithuromorpha, Ornithurae, Neornithes, Neognathae, Neoaves, Inopinaves, Telluraves, Afroaves, Coraciimorphae, Cavitaves, Eucavitaves, Picocoraciae, Bucerotiformes, Buceroti, Bucorvidae

Referred Species: B. brailloni, B. leadbeateri (Southern Ground Hornbill), B. abyssinicus (Abyssinian/Northern Ground Hornbill)

Status: Extinct - Extant, Vulnerable

Time and Place: From about 12 million years ago, in the Serravallian of the Miocene, through today

Ground Hornbills are known from across the entire African continent

Physical Description: Ground Hornbills are truly impressive living dinosaurs, large in body and bulky in form. They can reach up to 100 centimeters in length, weighing as much as 6 kilograms. They are black over most of their bodies (leading to their being named for crows and ravens, which they are not closely related to at all), with grey legs and grey bills. They also have grey crests on the tops of their heads. Their heads feature bright coloration which is distinguished from the rest of the body - red patches, blue patches, yellow bits, and wattles, which vary from species to species. The undersides of their wings are white, and they have short and thin tails. Called hornbills for their very large, pointed beaks, these bills make up a major chunk of their heads. They also, interestingly enough, have eyelashes on their eyes to aid in protecting them. The juveniles are somewhat brown, and they become more black in color as they age.

Northern Ground Hornbills by Rod Waddington, CC BY-SA 2.0

Diet: Ground Hornbills primarily feed upon arthropods such as insects, spiders, and scorpions. They also feed upon other invertebrates like snails, and larger prey such as snakes, lizards, small mammals, and carrion. Though they have been recorded feeding upon berries, they are primarily carnivorous.

Southern Ground Hornbill by Francesco Veronesi, CC BY-SA 2.0

Behavior: Ground Hornbills are extremely fascinating creatures, able to fly but spending most of their time on the ground searching for sources of food. They will move slowly and carefully, searching around for prey that then is picked up with their large bill, very carefully and in a picky fashion from the ground. They forage in small groups - with a mate, or with their offspring. They rarely gather in large groups, usually only when food is especially abundant. They’ll even dig into the ground or poop looking for food. When large prey is found, groups will gather and attack it together, dismembering it as a team. These are extremely vocal birds, making low-pitched hoots at each other often at two different pitches. They will make softer hoots when snuggling with each other, and deep alarm grunts. They are often known to call for long periods of time. They do not migrate, but do wander about; juveniles will stay where their parents lived for many years.

Northern Ground Hornbill by Sakari A. Maaranen, CC BY 3.0

The Ground Hornbills are cooperative breeders - the dominant pair will be assisted by juvenile and younger adult helpers, all defending the nesting territory fiercely. Males will prepare their nests in large tree cavities, sometimes in rock holes or baskets - they will line the hole with dry leaves, and not seal the entrance. Two to three eggs are laid and incubated for two months by the dominant female of the group. Upon hatching, the group members will feed the babies together, but usually the second or third eggs don’t survive - either the eggs don’t hatch, or the chicks starve to death. The chicks stay in the nest for three more months, and the juveniles stick with their families for a little while after hatching. They tend to reach sexual maturity between six and seven, but they don’t usually breed for the first time until later. They also tend to breed only once every three years - a rarity for birds. The birds can live for a very long time - in captivity, they’ve been seen living for up to 40 years.

Southern Ground Hornbill by Lip Kee, CC BY-SA 2.0

Ecosystem: Ground Hornbills live in a variety of habitats, across woodland and savanna, as well as grassland patches. The Southern Ground Hornbills live in more moist habitats than the Northern Ground Hornbills. They are often fed upon by large carnivores such as leopards, and can be a host for a wide variety of parasites and diseases.

Northern Ground Hornbill by Bernard Dupont, CC BY-SA 2.0

Other: All living Ground Hornbills are recorded as being vulnerable to extinction at this time. Despite being extremely widespread, they are sparse across their range. This sparseness makes it harder for them to find others of their species and mate with them. They are often hunted and killed, or even murdered as a bringer of bad luck in some cultures. Ground Hornbills also break window panes and are killed for that, in addition to being killed for being a harbinger of drought. Habitat loss also greatly contributes to their decline in population. They do live in several national parks, and there are conservation efforts to aid in its reproduction, using the abandoned eggs to raise more of the birds. Reintroduction, however, is more difficult than anticipated.

Southern Ground Hornbill by Derek Keats, CC BY 2.0

Species Differences: The Northern Ground-Hornbill is known from Central Africa, and features blue patches on its face with a yellow bit in the front. Males have red additions to their throat wattles. The Southern Ground-Hornbill, on the other hand, is all red, with no yellow or blue to be found. They are also found in southern Africa. In addition to all of this, the Northern Ground-Hornbill is somewhat lighter in weight than the Southern Ground-Hornbill. The extinct species, B. brailloni, was from much more north - in Morocco - and was much older, as well as a little smaller, than its living relatives.

Northern Ground Hornbill by Noel Reynolds, CC BY 2.0

~ By Meig Dickson

Sources under the Cut

Gill, Frank; Donsker, David, eds. (2019). "Mousebirds, Cuckoo Roller, trogons, hoopoes, hornbills". World Bird List Version 9.2. International Ornithologists' Union. Retrieved 23 July 2019.

Gonzalez, J.-C.T.; Sheldon, B.C.; Collar, N.J.; Tobias, J.A. (2013). "A comprehensive molecular phylogeny for the hornbills (Aves: Bucerotidae)". Molecular Phylogenetics and Evolution. 67 (2): 468–483.

Jobling, James A. (2010). The Helm Dictionary of Scientific Bird Names. London: Christopher Helm. p. 80.

Kemp, A. C. 1995. The Hornbills. Oxford University Press, Oxford.

Kemp, A.C. & Boesman, P. (2019). Northern Ground-hornbill (Bucorvus abyssinicus). In: del Hoyo, J., Elliott, A., Sargatal, J., Christie, D.A. & de Juana, E. (eds.). Handbook of the Birds of the World Alive. Lynx Edicions, Barcelona.

Kemp, A.C. & Boesman, P. (2019). Southern Ground-hornbill (Bucorvus leadbeateri). In: del Hoyo, J., Elliott, A., Sargatal, J., Christie, D.A. & de Juana, E. (eds.). Handbook of the Birds of the World Alive. Lynx Edicions, Barcelona.

Kinnaird Margaret F. and O‘Brien, Timothy G.; The Ecology and Conservation of Asian Hornbills: Farmers of the Forest; pp. 20-23.

Lesson, René (1830). Traité d'Ornithologie, ou Tableau Méthodique (in French). Paris: F.G. Levrault. p. 256

Peters, James Lee, ed. (1945). Check-list of Birds of the World. Volume 5. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. p. 272.

Skutch; Alexander Frank (author) and Gardner, Dana (illustrator) Helpers at birds' nests : a worldwide survey of cooperative breeding and related behavior pp. 69-71. Published 1987 by University of Iowa Press.

Wasser, D. E. and Sherman, P.W.; “Avian longevities and their interpretation under evolutionary theories of senescence” in Journal of Zoology 2 November 2009

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katieelizabeth · 4 years

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What would you call your body type? Definitely curvy

Are you a morning person? Yes and no. I’m taking sleep meds for nausea so right now waking up is kinda hard.

Have you ever been to Target? Loveeeeee Target

Do you like iced tea? Iced tea is always my jam

When is the next time you’ll be at work? Hmm it’s kinda up in the air right now. I’m itching to get back tho.

Do you have a savings account? Yes. one for myself, one with my boyfriend

Has anyone ever hacked your accounts before? Only once.

What color bedsheets are currently on your bed? Currently grey

Have you ever been to Disney World? If so, how many times have you been? Yes, I wanna say total like 6 times.

Does grammar and capitalization mean anything to you? It absolutely does.

Are you good at wrapping gifts for others? My boyfriend thinks I'm a terrible wrapper hahah

Do you have a dirty clothes hamper in your room? Yes.

What would you say is your favorite television show? If I had to narrow it down, probably Skins.

Do you enjoy big holiday dinners? Yes and no. I don’t care for holiday dinners with my family but I love holiday dinners with my boyfriends family.

Is there any piece of jewelry you’re constantly wearing? I’m not married or engaged but I do wear a small silver band on my ring finger.

What is one thing you desire as of now? To be able to just go and sit down in a restaurant. This virus has everyone living in fear and I'm tired of it and want to live normally and enjoy my pregnancy

What kind of phone do you have? An iPhone XR.

If you could move anywhere, where would you choose? Canada or London

Do you blog a lot, if at all? No not really. I used to when Xanga was big.

Is your present hair color, natural? Nope.

What makes you the most angry when it comes to people? My boyfriend thinks that anytime my opinion is different than his, then I'm trying to argue with him. It’s so fucking frustrating.

Describe your current outfit? Anaheim Ducks shirt and matching pj pants hahah

What was the last thing you ordered online? Some toothbrushes lol

Have you ever felt as though you were drifting apart from a best friend? Ive had two best friends in my life completely shut me out before. It sucks.

What color are your eyes? Poop brown

Have you ever worn color contacts? I have but I could never wear them because of the astigmatisms in both my eyes. Lasik was the best decision of my life

What’s the best thing about a hug? Right now I miss everything about hugs

Biggest fear? Losing my loved ones, death, never getting better/getting worse, never doing anything with my life....

If you have a significant other, how long have you been together? Just celebrated three years

Do you know any genuinely friendly people? Yes.

Do you buy your friends gifts? I try to when I can

What was the last thing you plugged in? My phone to the charger.

How old are you? 29

What color headphones do you own? They’re black.

Have you ever shopped on Urban Outfitters? No, just a reminder than I'm fat

Where do you buy the majority of your clothing? Amazon, Goodwill

Would you rather wear necklaces or earrings? Necklaces

Do you consider yourself fortunate? Very

Do you enjoy watching fights? Nooo.

Have you ever been in a physical fight? No way

Do you tend to talk badly about people? I try not to but everyone is guilty of that

Where are your parents as of now? Watching tv in the tv room

Does your computer cooperate most of the time? I literally just bought it so yes haha

Does your family have any cheesy traditions? Kind of

When did you last go to a book store? Gosh it’s been a while!

What’s the closest book store where you live? Barnes & Noble.

How much money do you have on you right now? On hand, $20.

Favorite personal feature? my hair and my lips

Are you wearing make up at the moment? Nope.

Favorite television channel? Bravo, E!, ID, HBO

Describe any piercings or tattoos you might have? 6 tattoos no piercings

Have you ever been fired from a job? INope

Are you currently losing a best friend? No.

Describe the worst day of your life: I’m good.

Do you play any video games? Not at the moment

Would you say you hate anyone? I feel hatred towards racists, homophobics, ect.

Do you think freckles are cute? Very cute!

Last time you went to the mall? Gosh its been a really long time

Name something that’s your favorite color: anything teal

Have you been to Red Lobster before? Yesssss. I want seafood

Do you judge by appearances? Anyone who tells you they don't to some degree is a fucking liar.

Do you follow a certain religion? No thank you

Who is your role model, if you had to choose? Im not really sure

Would you rather have nice hair or lips? Hair.

What are you most self conscious about? Pretty much my whole body

Do you have any family members who live out of town? Yeah.

Do you consider yourself short? Nope, I'm average height for a girl

What room are you in? Mine.

Hoodies or jackets? Hoodies.

Are you outside a lot? No not really. The sun doesn’t like my skin haha

Have you ever been dumped via text message? Nope

Do you like dreamcatchers? Not really

What is your favorite letter of the alphabet? I don’t have one.

Do you hate repetitive people and things? Depends on the situation

Do you think autocorrect is a blessing or curse? BOTH

Do you believe in any particular curses? No.

Ever play a Ouija board? Nope, my mom wouldn't let me growing up

What movie scares you the most? The Exorcist. I can watch the movie now no problem but it FUCKED up my childhood.

What was your bedtime as a child? 9. I remember watching Happy Days from 8-9

Reason why your favorite holiday is your favorite: Who doesn't love Christmastime?

Do you work with any close friends? I work with my baby daddy

Do you consider yourself spoiled? I would say in some way I'm probably spoiled

Do you listen to any country music? yes

Favorite high school teacher: I don’t specifically remember any high school teachers I liked. Probably my French teacher. He was super cool!

Do you ever get drunk? Of course. Can’t drink yet tho until after baby

Have you ever had highlights before? Nope

Favorite number: 7,10

Do you still sleep with any stuffed animals? Not anymore. I used to for a a long time

What is your biggest regret in life? Eh I've got a few

Would you say you think you have a mental disorder of some kind? Depression/anxiety. Ive taken meds for it

Are you normally an independent person? I like to think myself as independent but my boyfriend sure takes care of me. I dunno what id do without him

Do you have any paintings? a few

What is one clothing fad you wish never existed? anything from the early 2000s haha

Do you like to be organized? Do I like it? Yes. Am I organized? NO

Have you ever failed a class before? oh yes

Ever been judged because of your weight? All the time. Not so much as an adult tho

What is your favorite breakfast cereal? The sugary bad ones, ha.

Ever had a wish come true? Nope

Do you regret meeting any of your exes? No way

Do you own any coloring books? Yes haha those adult ones

What’s the meanest thing someone’s called you? I can’t think of anything specific. Probably fat

Have you ever bullied someone? I likely have, unfortunately :(

Do you ever watch Lifetime? Only for the reality shows

Ever tried to intentionally sabotage someone’s grade? God no

Do you own any brown clothing? Hmmm I don’t think so

What color are your walls painted? White.

Last thing you drank: I’m drinking decaf coffee

Have you ever seen a tornado in person? Noooo.

Do you have an inground pool at your house? Nope

What is the first digit of your phone number? 9

What’s the prettiest town you’ve been to? Anywhere in England

Do you tend to sleep a lot? yes and no. I’m taking sleeping meds but it’s hard for me to fall asleep

Silver or gold jewelry? Silver

Do you sometimes celebrate holidays early? Not usually. My boyfriends family Is out of state tho

Have you ever been in love? Yes.

What’s the best gift you’ve ever received? My unborn child

When was the last time you showered? Last night

Would you consider yourself attractive? Sometimes yes

Has anyone made you mad today? Nope

Favorite smell: Vanilla

Are you afraid of insects? I wouldn't say afraid

Do you have any children? I’ve got one cookin in the oven haha

If so, what are their names? I’ll tell you when I know the gender

Would ever consider having children in the future? MORE children? Lets see how traumatized this first one is haha

Have you ever lived on a farm? No.

Ever played any sports? Oh yes, played soccer till I was 18

Do both of your parents have jobs? They're both retired from jobs they were at for 40+ years

Where is the best place you’ve been on vacation to? Its a tie between South Africa, London and Colorado

Are you afraid people won’t accept you? Not anymore. Being an adult means getting over that haha

Are you, for the most part, an honest person? I try to be

Did you make prank phone calls as a child? oh yes!

Do you like to make donations? Yeah.

What is your current ringtone? Just the standard apple ringtone

Meet anyone from your past lately? No.

Have you ever called a teen suicide line? No.

Have you ever caught something on fire? Not that I can think of

Ever been obsessed with a show? Ive been obsessed with many shows

What type of perfume or cologne do you use? English Laundry Signature

What’s the last book you read? The book that Ted Bundys girlfriend wrote

Dream career: Zooologist

Have you ever climbed a mountain before? Yes, in Colorado

At what age do you plan to get married? Not sure, we aren't in a rush to marry

Ever been in a car accident? Yes, three

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yespolkadotkitty · 5 years

Text

Swords, Sarcasm & Starlight, pt 2

Thanks to my lovely beta, @lokimostly

Geralt finished cleaning up the mess (thanks, Roach) and loaded all his wares on to the jury-rigged garden wagon he used for fayres like this. Swords were fucking heavy, and he wasn’t leaving Roach on his own for long to go back for more. God only knew when Yennefer might decide to grace him with her presence. She was someone he would absolutely want by his side in an emergency, but punctuality had never been her strong suit.

Roach walked docilely by his side as he followed the fayre goers up the paved lane, littered with signage for “medieval” street food (with much less vermin, one would hope), musical acts and services.

If Geralt had stopped to look around him, he’d have wondered if he was going mad. Blacksmithing was never going to lead to an ordinary life, that was why he’d chosen it, but medieval fayres were something else. There was often proper jousting, revelry late into the night, and if he was lucky, a few maidens willing to go for a tumble in some hay nearby. His height and his silver-grey hair made him stand out, made him memorable. He was lucky enough that he had a comely face; that helped. But mostly he was told that his broadness made him attractive for a good time. Geralt didn’t mind at all. He wasn’t looking for anything serious and neither were they. Everyone walked away happy.

His mind drifted to the spunky brunette who’d parked next to him in her tiny Tardis of a fiat. It had been no trouble to fend off those boys. Barely old enough to shave, they’d seen an opportunity and taken it. Geralt was no white knight, but he couldn’t stand by and watch someone get robbed.

It had been rude of him to leave in the middle of her thanking him, but he’d had more pressing matters, namely a pile of manure in the horsebox. Dealing with it (while Roach gave him the side-eye) and getting his stall set up in good time had put an end to small talk (not that Geralt indulged in much anyway).

He reached the wide tent he’d been allocated and saw that it was split in two to share with another stallholder. The table, chair and display board he’d requested were already set up. He tethered Roach to one of the tent posts and got to work. The sun shone down, already warm, and wispy clouds drifted across the cornflower blue sky.

Within a half hour, Witcher Armoury’s black and silver wolf-emblazoned tabard had been erected. Geralt had a flask of hot, black coffee on the go, Roach was nibbling from his feed bag, and all was well with the world. He laid down scabbards on the clothed table and slid blunted example swords into the custom made bench in the tent, as medieval music carried through the air. He glanced at one of the posters across the way. Jaskier & the Dandelions. They were all dressed as bards from long ago. A younger Geralt might have laughed. But not this one. Thanks to people who LARPed and/or frequented this sort of event, he made his living, and he’d never look down on a potential customer.

Especially when, if he admitted it, he was partial to a medieval fayre himself. Jousting, revelry, swords and maidens. What was there not to love?

“Well, hey there neighbour!”

Geralt looked up and almost bobbled his tea. Darcy. The perky brunette started to set up on the other side of the tent - his tent - looking none the worse for wear from her shock earlier at the hands of the pimply faced would-be thieves. They’d think again before trying a stunt like that, he mused, smirking.

“Thanks again for earlier,” she was saying when he tuned back in. “You looked really, really badass. You could give my friend’s husband a run for his money.”

Geralt grunted a response, working on polishing his example swords so the hammered steel shone in the sunshine.

“So… you made all those?”

“Yes.” He finished polishing a broadsword and moved on to a dagger, glancing at Darcy to see what she was doing. She moved gracefully around her stand, fussing with things and erecting little canvas display props. She had one huge picture that she mounted on a big free-standing board behind her. It depicted a re-imagining of the Leo constellation, with “Leo” as a woman with a mane of silky hair and a "come hither" expression. Her work was almost lyrical in its smoothness. Yennefer would go mad over it.

Too late, Darcy saw him looking. “This is only my second fayre. People seem to dig my work, so.” She gave a little half-shrug that made the corner of her wide-necked blouse slip down, revealing the curve of one shapely shoulder. “Do you come here often? I mean, as a stallholder. I’m not trying to pick you up, or anything. You did make it clear that you’d rather scoop horse poop than talk to me.”

Roach whinnied. Geralt rolled his eyes. Traitorous beast. Roach had always been a sucker for a pretty face. “I didn’t-”

Darcy grinned. “Gotta have your say, huh,” she tossed at Roach. “I like your horse. I think he’s chattier than you.”

Despite himself, Geralt felt his lips curve. She wasn’t wrong. “That’s Roach.”

She tilted her head to one side. “And I’ve yet to learn your name.”

“Geralt.” He moved out from his table and offered a hand. She took it, and they shook. Her fingers were small and soft in his larger, scarred hand. “Your work is beautiful.” Enchantingly quirky, like the artist, he nearly said, but thought better of it, and dropped her hand.

“Thanks. Thanks a lot. May I?” she asked, gesturing to the swords on the blanketed table.

Geralt studied her for a moment. The morning sunlight caught on her hair, picking out the gold within the chocolate brown. Her blue eyes sparked, and for a moment his chest pulled tight. Then the feeling passed, and he offered her a sword appropriate for her height and build. As she wielded it, he imagined her in medieval garb with fire in her eyes and murder in her voice, and hell if it wasn’t incredibly hot.

#darcy lewis x geralt of rivia #the witcher fanfic #ship darcy with all the things

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queenssunshine · 5 years

Text

Making a Living off of Death (1/4)

I literally cannot believe I’ve posted my first fic to AO3! This is my first fic in almost seven years, so I’m really excited to become a contributing member of fandom again.

Anyway, here’s my first Spider-boy fic, and in the spirit of Whumptober, it is of course whump.

Read On AO3 Here

When people ask him what he does, he generally tells them he’s a freelancer. On occasion they will enquire further, “A freelance what?”, to which he will respond, “Whatever I can.” That’s basically true—while he deals mostly in assassinations, he also does assaults and robberies on occasion. Sometimes he needs to put the fear of God into people. Sometimes he just needs to play God.

The hit on Tony Stark comes to him in a heavily encrypted email that takes his computer two days to work through. Sometimes clients are paranoid like that, making the orders so difficult to access that most people in the business walk away before they even know what they’re for. He supposes this isn’t a bad idea. Plausible deniability and all that. But it’s annoying for him to have to wait around for his program to work out the endless lines of tangled code. This also probably means payment will come in a similar form, which is even more annoying.

Anyway, the hit on Tony Stark gets sent to him and three other colleagues and he’s the first one to decode it (and probably the only one to try) so first come, first kill. The built-in kill code activates and his instructions unwrite themselves from the screen, his laptop defaulting to his desktop photo of the silhouette of a dog on a sunset. Alright, time to strategize.

First, he has to get to New York. Then he has to figure out how to get Stark’s schedule. Then he has to get close to him. Then he has to kill him.

Hacking into Stark’s security team is above his skill set but gaining access to his employee files ends up being pretty easy. Cross-check some names, Google some addresses, hack a local AT&T store, and boom, he has access to the personal phones of who he has decided is two key players in his plan: the head of security and an intern.

He decides these two are key because he sees them too much. Photos from expos, parties, conferences, press events—the two are a constant presence at the side of Tony Stark. The security head quite frankly looks like an oaf, and the intern doesn’t appear to be older than college age, so he decides that they can’t do too much thwarting to his plan. The more he gets to know them through the screen, the more he feels that way.

The emails that the two have sent back and forth are heavily encrypted, and there are heaps of text messages that are as well. He can’t believe it, but his main source of information is coming from the animojis that the two send each other on occasion. The intern favors the alien. The security head favors the brown bear. (The intern also thinks the security head should use the poop one more, but that’s beside the point.)

Through the animojis, GPS tracking, and some old-fashioned stalking-- er, in-person reconnaissance, he discovers that the intern is a student at a magnet school in Forest Hills and that the security head is, for whatever reason, his personal after-school driver. The relationship between the two of them seems pretty relaxed. They clearly have a long history of uneventful school pick-ups, because he just sits in the visitor parking lot and stares at them without detection as the security head pulls up in the black Audi, the intern hops in, and they wait in the long queue to get off the campus. He trails the car, but the location of drop-off changes on the daily—sometimes a restaurant, sometimes a bodega, twice it was just an alleyway. Once they went to Stark Tower, or at least he assumes that’s where they were heading, but by the time they were two blocks away he decided to drop off to avoid getting clocked on any of Stark’s cameras. Even though Stark probably had access to every CCTV in town. Sometimes you just have to play it safe.

After about two weeks of monitoring, he gets his golden ticket. His phone pings a few times in a row, and he opens it to witness an exchange between Alien and Brown Bear:

[Alien] Are we still on for after school? [Brown Bear] Yeah, he had to move some stuff around so we might be late, but we’ll still be there. [Alien] Cool! It’s probably better, I don’t want—[the alien hesitates, rotates his head, lowers voice] Mr. Stark to have to deal with people freaking out about him being here. [Brown Bear] Don’t worry about it, kid. [Brown Bear] I think he’s kind of excited to see your school and your friends. [Alien] Okay, well I’ll see you guys later then. [Alien] OH! Can we please go to Julio’s again? Please? I’m craving breadsticks. [Brown Bear] Boss says okay.

So the decision had to be made: to carry out the assassination on a high school campus, or at an Italian restaurant in Brooklyn. He sighs as he Googles “Midtown academic calendar forest hills,” and sighs again when he discovers that tonight is the Annual Science Fair. What will Tony Stark do in the presence of one thousand geeks and their parents: double down on security or keep it modest? He rapidly Googles some more, trying to find instances of Tony Stark, billionaire and savior of the universe, attending a high school science fair. Bingo. Seven years ago he had attended the science fair of the Bronx High School of Science, and according to r/TonyStark and r/IronMan, he had only had Brown Bear and his gauntlets at his disposal. No supplementary guards? Not wise, Stark. Still, one instance was not enough to base his operation on.

Further inquiries reveal that Stark, in his years since becoming the savior of the universe, has only grown laxer. His prosthetic arm doubles as a housing unit for the Iron Man suit, sure, but it seems to be de-weaponized most of the time. He’s spotted without security regularly—outings with clients, with the Avengers team, with the kid, all solo. Rarely a body guard appears, but it’s only when he’s with his daughter or wife. Maybe it’s because Stark thinks he’s too big to fuck with. Maybe Stark is, and maybe this is a big mess in the making. Oh well. He decides the assassination is going to go down at the school, but he needs one more thing to make it go off well. So he calls a colleague, has them transfer the encrypted message, decodes it again (but faster, thank you machine learning), backward engineers it, and makes a phone call. And a request.

Two hours later, a cloaking suit arrives at a P.O. box, to which he has the key.

Sometimes his clients gift him cool things to execute a mission, but a cloaking suit is hands-down the coolest thing he’s gotten. He didn’t know what he expected when he takes it out of the courier box, but it looks almost civilian—a thick grey windbreaker with lines of reflective material running down the sleeves, and a pair of pants to match. It’s basically a tracksuit. He’s relieved. New Yorkers have likely seen weirder things than a man dressed in full tactical attire on the subway, but it’s still nice to have a low profile.

He messes around with the settings and soon enough he’s standing before the hotel bathroom mirror almost completely invisible, only a slight warp betraying where he is. Nothing anyone would see unless they were looking for it. Without the hood on, he looks like Harry Potter on his first Christmas at Hogwarts. He is—he dare say—giddy.

He deactivates the cloaking, grabs his guitar case (read: sniper rifle) and wallet and leaves the hotel.

Before getting to the school, he has a slice of pizza, a coke, and a bag of gummy bears. This is not good fuel for the potential get-away sprint, but he can’t help himself. He’s so happy, he can just feel the brewing of a good mission on its way.

He arrives at the school after classes have let out and before the end of the science fair, meaning that the parking lot is a ghost town. His cloaking suit already activated, he climbs up on his predetermined hiding spot (a portable building next to the bus parking lot which would allow him ample cover and a quick escape were things to get hairy), sets up his Barrett M82 (already sheathed in its matching grey cloaking suit), and hunkers down. He lets his mind wander as half an hour passes, thoughts looping around his ex-wife (that bitch), his breakfast tomorrow (maybe that 2.8-star diner down the street), and his dog (who was currently boarding at a doggy daycare next to his house in Kentucky and got a time-out today). Finally, families start spilling out of the front doors of the school, and from his view atop the portable, he can clearly see the faces of all exiting.

Fifteen minutes pass of parental pride and filial embarrassment before Stark, the security head, and the intern come walking out. By the time they exit, most of the fair has cleared out and only a few cars remain in the lot—probably teachers and staff. The intern is clutching a blue ribbon and a small trophy while the security head struggles to maintain hold of some kind of robotic device. Stark has his hands jammed in his pockets, strolling casually, lips quirked in a contented smile as the intern rambles about something. He can barely hear it—something about how the intern knew his project was good but didn’t think it would win an award or anything. For a moment, he pauses, feeling a little remorse. He had always wanted kids. The intern seemed pretty endearing. Oh well. Moment over.

He lines up the sight on Stark. It’s a clean shot, a beautiful shot, a stars-have-aligned-and-I’m-about-to-get-away-with-this shot, and he feels the rush of a perfectly executed assassination flow through his veins. This moment is why he mainly deals in assassinations. This high of having so much power yet not even being seen, it hits different. He drops the safety and just as his finger twitches back to the trigger the most bizarre thing happens.

The intern looks at him.

Of course, the kid can’t look at him, he has the cloaking suit on, but the kid’s suspicious eyes pass over the top of the portable and he feels violated.

Also, he squeezes the trigger thrice.

And then a more bizarre thing happens: the kid drops.

Well, shit.

#peter parker whump #iron dad and spider son #hurt peter parker #spider-man #we're basically ignoring end game #spider-man fic #fanfiction #fuck idk what to tag #norah writes

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absurdgeometry · 5 years

Text

Eddie

It was a lonely gas station, set beside a country crossroads surrounded by forest and cornfields. Its walls were peeling cinder block and the floor was a filthy bare cement slab. Rows of grey hardware store shelving sported room-temperature snack foods. Everyone was gone for the evening, except my brother Eddie and me, waiting for our catch to come in.

Eddie parked his butt on a plastic five gallon bucket and scratched under his choker necklace, one whose sole purpose was to cover up a snail tattoo on his neck. He pulled two cans of beer from a cooler, opened them and and handed one to me.

The sun was low in the Summer sky and even bugs on the pavement outside were casting long shadows through the open doorway. 'Andy' should be here pretty soon.

. . .

So: people die. They die doing what they did in life, running, swimming, pooping, screwing, whatever. Inevitably a percentage die driving.

Recursive Engineering Corporation had sold services for millions of self-driving cars before it was sued out of existence, so for them that percentage had become pretty impressive. Some drivers were old and went of natural causes, some choked on food, or committed suicide or OD'd. And when this happened, they would go limp at the controls, causing the car's software to assume they had dozed off and let self-driving mode take over.

That was the first bug. The second was that rather than stop at a destination, the car would just keep driving, touching on all the familiar places the deceased person had routinely visited in their particular life. These rolling coffins never stopped, as long as there was money in the owner's account to robofuel or charge at gas stations. It didn't help that tintable windows were a fashion now.

This might have been an innocent mistake in the beginning but REC had no incentive to fix it. As long as their customers were still legally alive and driving around, Recursive still collected billions in revenue on their service. In court it was revealed that the bug had been pointed out internally but ignored, so they lost everything and were convicted of massive fraud, improper disposal of human remains and Felony Carbon Waste.

Authorities seized control of course and ordered all the wayward vehicles home to police stations for next of kin to identify, but Recursive's database was as corrupt as their ethics and a large number of those cars simply fell off the grid.

The public was horrified and reacted immediately. Bumper stickers read: 'Friends don't let friends drive dead', or the ever popular 'If you can read this sign then you are alive'. Eddie had one of those himself.

A rock band named Clown Car of Death achieved some success. Their logo was a cartoon speeding car with dead clowns hanging out of all the windows. Quite a lot of dead clowns actually, for such a tiny car.

I will never look at headlights in my rear view mirror the same way again.

That, then, is where our money-making opportunity began, and money we did need. Eddie had worked for REC as a programmer and while he had escaped prosecution he suddenly found himself without a job or even a career. He had expertise on this subject though, and with such a large mess to clean up, people were ready to pay without too many questions. I myself was in between jobs and marriages, and ready to join anything.

I did ask him once what he had seen back when he worked for Recursive. He just burped out the words 'gag order' through his bong hit, causing him to actually gag. He looked a little angry so I didn't ask again.

. . .

Our sunny morning had begun with a voicemail:

'There's a flyblown mess that cruises through our neighborhood twice a week. I can't get the city to do anything about it. Kids are playing here! They call it Maggoty Andy and make up stories about it. They used to be such normal kids. Please get rid of this thing, we will pay cash.'

Maggoty Andy is actually a pretty common name these days. Everyone thinks they're clever, but we've picked up at least ten Andys. We have heard other names...

La Abuelita Seca was our favorite customer, an elderly woman who drove very politely and kept her air conditioner high and dry. She mummified completely, no mess. I respect that.

Mazarotten was one who got away. It was a supercharged retro-chrome chartreuse Evantra owned by a hobby racer, which became famous when she got stuck on a community race track, running other cars off the course. Sadly she crashed and burned on the wall before taking the cup. Cremation may be dignified, but it didn't pay our rent.

The Traveling Salesman Problem was our hardest case. TTSP's real name was Masoud, a beloved four-star Kirby vacuum cleaner salesman, extreme extrovert, and maybe a little manic. His regular path was all over damn North America, in a pattern so complex that by the time we caught him, he was just bones rolling around the footwell under his gas pedal.

So many stories, but even I think Topps went a bit too far with those cards.

. . .

We heard tires on gravel and I checked my watch. Outside, sure enough our Andy was coming up the road. Right make and model, and if there was any doubt left you could also see an arm hanging out the window, flopping around with a few fingers missing, slapping flies away at every bump.

It's tempting to throw a net over the whole mess as soon as you see it, but these things can be evasive. They're made to pick up the driving style of their owners, within the law. Want to get there fast and don't mind sudden starts and stops? Or do you prefer a smooth ride and willing to take your time? Just drive a little and your car will get it. Anyway some cars really are jerks. Some react like they're being carjacked, and will almost run you down. So we would stay patient, and wait for them to stop and connect to the pump before making any moves.

Andy's car was a two tone Volkswagen Baja Humbug, yellow fading into a deep caramel brown, with embedded flakes of gold in the finish. I admired its beauty until it came close enough to smell. The pump reached out, pecked its hose around like a bird until it found the open gas port and began to fuel. It looked so maternal.

Right then we rushed to shove a power jack under the front bumper and lift its drive wheels off the ground, but the VW was having none of that. It backed up suddenly, tearing the pump nozzle loose in a splatter of gasoline, and then shot backward, running over my foot, to crash into the front of our tow truck. I have never seen that before, auto-drives are fanatically safe, but whatever, we were now kind of screwed. The car had no reason to stop. We tried to corral it with our bodies, and while it seemed unwilling to hit us directly, we were in a stalemate. Eddie was forced to do the unthinkable: he dove through the driver side window on top of the reeking glop that was 'Andy' and pulled out the keys. My hero! But, eww.

Per ritual, we removed the battery and front wheels, sealed the windows and doors with tape and biohazard stickers and winched it onto the back of our tow truck. A closer look revealed that the rear sensors were cracked and the inspection sticker had been hand-drawn with magic marker, a long time ago. What a slob.

Back inside, Eddie sat down on the bucket and looked really tired.

'You know the best thing about this job? It ends. Every time we catch one the numbers go down, not up. Someday we'll catch the last one, and this whole mess will be over.'

I grabbed the rest room keys and headed outside for a piss. Just ten steps into the dark though, there was Eddie's car, a deep-sea blue Ford Tesla, moving slowly over the weedy gravel. A shadow inside confirmed that someone must be stealing it. I ran up and pounded on the driver side window to get a look at this asshole, but he just slumped over sideways, hitting his bare teeth against the glass. A black choker necklace slipped down his mummified neck, revealing a snail tattoo. The car picked up speed and pulled away from me, bumping over clumps of grass before it hit the road. As its red tail lights dwindled into a black spiky horizon of trees beneath the sunset, I raced back toward the yellow glow of the gas station door, screaming Eddie's name.

In the corner of my eye, a second set of headlights began to twinkle through the distant forest from the opposite end of the dirt road.

#creepypasta #cars

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lindoig1 · 6 years

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Heaven - or almost! Day 10.

We ate fiery beef noodles at a place opposite our hotel for breakfast. Not quite sure whether the hotel doesn’t do breakfast or whether what they provide is not suitable for westerners, but they gave us a voucher for beef noodles as I said - if we wanted anything else, we had to pay for it ourselves as well as try to explain to the cook what we wanted. Everyone who came into the cafe seemed to get the same order, but the cafe threw in a somewhat strange, but perfectly fine, boiled egg each for us. We have noticed that many places have a lot of eggs floating in some sort of hot stock and the look of them turned me off a bit, but they tasted fine even if we got eggs that had been in the soup for a week - how would anyone know?

Then it was off to the mountains to the Heavenly Lake near God’s Mountain (Mt Bogda). It was well over an hour’s drive to where we had to go through security and buy our tickets. Oops, they don’t take tickets from foreigners so we had to get checked out at the Police Station and after 15 minutes or so, we were suitably accredited and cleared to rejoin the queue to go through security again. You then walk across a courtyard and go through security again. I wonder what they could have missed the first time that we could have acquired in the 50 metre walk across the razor-wire enclosure that warranted the second examination? Chinese people seem highly regimented and simply cop whatever ridiculous bureaucratic procedures are applied. They all line up neatly until the door is opened and then the queue collapses and it is all push and shove to be first inside. They wedge themselves between us and surreptitiously edge forward or sidle around and between you and then try the same manoeuvre with whoever is next in line. Only problem is that 500 others are trying to pull exactly the same stunt on them. I have to say that the security nonsense is getting to me. You have to show your passport or ID card 10 times a day and everything has to go through the X-ray machine even if nobody is there to monitor it - even to get into our own hotel lobby. You get patted down with greater or lesser intrusion/excitement at least a couple of times a day and I have observed that as westerners, we get a lot more scrutiny than the locals.

We are now in the CORRECT station waiting 4 hours for our train. At the first X-ray station, they confiscated Heather’s dry hair shampoo, at the second X-ray station 50 metres later, they confiscated our plastic fruit knife and hair cutting scissors. They made us open all our bags and did a thorough job on Heather’s, but when my bags were all open at their insistence, they didn’t even lift the lid, just waved me through. But they were VERY interested in my binoculars. They mimed a lot of birdwatching moves until I understood that I had to get them out of my backpack. They turned them over, shook them, peered through both ends, examined them again from every angle and eventually handed them back with true eastern inscrutability and a flick of the hand to send me on my way.

Anyway, back to the Heavenly Lake. We all lined up in our thousands and progressively boarded a cavalcade of hundreds of buses to be driven 10-15 kilometres where we all had to get out and walk/climb close to a kilometre through a slightly tacky ‘traditional village’ lined with stalls selling mostly non-traditional souvenirs, food and other wares. This path led us to a larger enclosed buying opportunity with some similar items as well as plenty of others, all at upmarket prices. We escaped with our money belt intact and finished our walk to where we lined up dutifully so a different fleet of buses could take us the remaining 30-40 km up the mountain to the lake. Interesting that we alighted the first bus maybe 15 metres from where we boarded the second one, but a sturdy fence and a plethora of police and security guards prevented anyone taking a short cut to miss the tourist trap. Despite it all, the walk wasn’t too bad and the hawkers not too aggressive although Heather was struggling a bit with the stairs in what turned out to be quite a hot day.

The lake was suitable heavenly - very beautiful set in very steep towering hills against the broad background of a regiment of snowy peaks to the north. The water was glacial (there are 2 glaciers in the part of the range we could see) and deep emerald - also just deep, 100 metres at its deepest with an average depth of 60 metres. We paid a small fee and joined a boatload of local tourists for a half-hour spin around the lake. (We haven’t seen a single westerner for at least 4 days.) It was a pleasant enough trip, but no commentary, even from our guide who we have marked down heavily on a number of counts.

Our guide recommended that we go to his friend’s place further up the mountain for lunch because the food near the lake was tourist food and very poor. A little apprehensively, we agreed and Rachid collected us in his car and drove us up to his village - a collection of yurts. It was quite nice up there in the forest, quiet and with fewer people than we have seen outside our hotel rooms since arriving. We selected a few items and he and his wife cooked them for us. Nothing special, but quite nice, more than we could eat and a little on the expensive side, but we are tourists after all. Rachid and his wife were very courteous, Kazakhs but living in China for 40 years. Rachid (at least) spoke excellent English and Heather had quite a yarn with him while I looked unsuccessfully for birds - saw hundreds of black-eared kites, very like our black kites, but only a single rook apart from them.

After lunch, we returned to the lake and I had a short walk along the boardwalk while Heather rested in the blazing sun, then it was into the bus that took us all the way to the bottom without providing any further buying opportunities. En route to find our driver, we discovered a geological museum in the entrance hall near the bus station and spent an interesting half hour or so finding out a bit about how the mountains and lake were formed. There was a lot to see and read and at least one more floor that we never explored so had we known and planned things better, we could happily have spent a couple of hours in the area.

This probably all sounds a bit flippant but it was a really nice day. The mountains are truly spectacular. Steep and rugged, rocky and riddled with jagged aretes slicing the slopes in all directions, strata running at all angles, a hundred shades of green, but with heavily scarred areas of slippage - truly dramatic, quite breathtaking, absolutely beautiful. There were horses, cattle, sheep and goats in numerous places along the roadside, some of the most colourful stock I have seen. The sheep, in particular, came in black, greys, browns, white, creamy-yellow, a range of fawns and beiges and red, really red, at least Hereford red. Many sported a combination of 2, 3 or 4 colours. I have never seen sheep like that before and the horses and cattle were almost as colourful. There was a small river and a couple of minor creeks rushing the snowmelt to lower pastures, and the trees and grass were a mix of dazzling greens and the shady glades looked very inviting in the heat. To add to the natural beauty, there were quaint pagodas perched high at the very precipices of some mountains, a scattering of yurts here and there, and a couple of temples near the lake. All very interesting and picturesque. It was an entrancing day in the country even if the administrative hassles were frustrating and really quite ludicrous.

There was a fair bit of debate on the way back to town about what to do next. Our guide said it was too early to go to the station and suggested we go to a water park, but we were both pooped and didn’t want to do any more walking or climbing any more steps. We also got the feeling that the driver didn’t want to extend too much and the guide said we should give him an extra 100RMB for his time. We weren’t worried about the money, but just wanted to sit down with a cold drink for a while so we finally settled on a bar and we shouted them both a drink.

We sat and talked a strange mixture of language, signing and interpretation and when we were sufficiently recovered, it was off to the station. Another long walk to get to the entrance and then the multiple passport checking, X-rays and security hassles got into full swing. An hour or so later, we were inside the ginormous waiting room with 4 hours to go and huge crowds occupying almost every seat. Interesting that half of them left on the next train and the rest left on the following one and we got very lonely all alone in the mammoth waiting room. Another young couple came in just before our train was starting to board and the four of us set off with our baggage to climb two sets of at least 100 steps each up to the platform. The other couple were young and strong, but ended up as whacked as we were by the time we finally made it to the top. More hassles about our tickets and passports, but it was finally sorted and the train got under way about half an hour later than intended. Not sure if that was just because of us, but soon after we got our papers back, the train headed out into the night.

It is now 1am and I am going to sleep. More drama are possible ahead at the border - a process scheduled to take more than 8 hours!!!

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matchbox-fighting-furies · 5 years

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The end of the Matchbox Fighting Furies (with full chronology)

Shipwrecked:

After the product line’s initially encouraging but relatively modest success its fighting fury future soon withered and after only five years – in total, worldwide - the figures and accessories were banished to bargain basements and clearance shelves where they lived on for a while and some even languished in their original warehouse packing cases for decades (only to be eagerly consumed by 21st century toy collectors). Those that loved them, loved them, but the pace of sales didn’t justify further expansion, with the original strategy of investing in cost-efficient but large initial stocks serving only to exacerbate the limited range and compromise any potential progress.

Ultimately the products failed to accrue the popularity and volumes originally expected and one anonymous but enterprising U.S toy distributor - where lingering stocks of the Adventure packs were increasingly irrelevant without the matching figures – even slid a deplorably poor-quality pirate figure (“inspired” by the Captain Patch figure of Mego’s Super Pirates product line – with this “knockoff” version placing the eye patch over his right eye instead) into the window packs in an attempt to help sell through the last of the outfits. The ‘patch’ figure was poor and wasn’t even the correct size - being noticeably smaller - but some toy collectors have contemptuously included this unofficial imposter within their Matchbox Fighting Furies collection!??

After Crazy Horse’s tomahawk formally came down on the entire Fighting Furies product line at the close of 1978 it seems happily fortuitous, as the era of Star Wars had arrived and cowboys and pirates – of the earthbound variety - felt particularly dated. But were our pirates, and their Errol Flynn swashbuckling “heroics”, extraordinarily progressive for their time with their obvious ethnicities, male makeup, prostheses, lessons in coastal geography, cultural ceremonies and an embracing of cultural dress? Probably not – and possibly the exact opposite along with fictional clichés stolen from the silver screen of a previous era - but for a short glorious moment these British toys flexed their jib climbing muscles and blithely went head to head with already entrenched and recognisable brands while being prepared to compete across all of the world’s seven seas and all from the humble address of Lee Conservancy Road in landlocked Hackney, East London. The figures had a superior specification, were better crafted and they boasted exceptional outfit accessory packs, but as confused late entries into a crowded market, already dominated by established players, the Fighting Furies have ultimately only become a footnote in the toy history of modern 20th century action figures; but unjustifiably so. Such was the audacious desire of Lesney Products to muscle their way into this lucrative market from a complete standing start, with no franchise tie-ins and relying only upon the claustrophobically generic world of period pirates and old-school westerns, the range was destined to remain small and would always struggle. Quality doesn’t always win out and on imperial seas you only ever got rough justice. But a rare honour is bestowed upon this long-ago toy episode, as Peg-leg, Hook, the original Sea Fury playset and all eight of their disguises now form part of the eminent collection of Britain’s Victoria and Albert museum; the world’s leading museum of art and design.

No self-respecting vintage ‘action figure’ collector can conceivably ignore these beautifully fashioned and exceptional examples which are surely destined to be afforded more and more retrospective attention.

Matchbox Fighting Furies blogs written and researched by Cap’n Blood Lust. (Aye-aye, me hearties).

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Across the internet, the years and lifespan associated with Fighting Furies products are consistently reported incorrect – here is a breakdown of their availability timeline:

Published product history (USA/UK):

The first two Pirates and six Adventure packs first launched in the U.S.A and were then quickly followed in the U.K in 1975. They were publicly promoted by Lesney Products in the U.S for only two years while in the U.K (and Europe) the products continued, and an additional Wild West series was released in 1976. All Fighting Furies products would eventually end with remaining stocks making a final formal appearance as part of the official Matchbox product range in the U.K/Europe 1978 collector’s catalogue. (It is thought that Lesney Products – aka Matchbox - in the U.K may also have attempted to relaunch the Wild West series – serviced with legacy stocks – to the trade in 1980).

1974 U.S.A: The pirates and adventure packs appear in a public brochure for the first time in the 1974 U.S.A edition of the Matchbox Collectors Catalogue.

(The first two pirates, 6x adventures and the Sea Fury carry case also first appear in the U.S.A trade catalogue for 1974).

1974 U.K: Matchbox Collectors Catalogue; No Fighting Furies products.

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1975 U.S.A: As previously/1974.

(Elsewhere, U.S.A national retailer Sears introduces the ‘full ship version’ Sea Fury carry case to their product line).

1975 U.K: The two pirates and 6x adventures are introduced in the 1975 U.K public Collectors Catalogue.

(Ghost of Cap’n Kidd, 2x adventure packs, 2x Disguise packs, the Wild West series – of 3x figures and 2x adventure packs - are presented in the U.K trade catalogue).

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1976 U.S.A: All Fighting Furies products disappear from the 1976 U.S.A Matchbox Collectors Catalogue.

(Elsewhere, the U.S.A retailer Sears introduces “Capt. Kidd” – the ghost of - to their range and continue selling stocks of Pirates, adventure packs, and playsets).

1976 U.K: The 2x pirates, plus the introduction of the Ghost of Cap’n Kidd are shown (with their “disguises and accessories” - 6x adventures + 2x disguises - mentioned in the text). The three Wild West figures are shown and described as a “brand new series”. (A “magnificent horse” is also shown, labelled as Sundance. Their own action sets and disguises are also mentioned, while Kid Cortez is labelled as Pecos Kid [sic]).

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1977 U.S.A: Again - No Fighting Furies products.

1977 U.K: 2x pirates + Ghost of Cap’n Kidd, 2x action packs explicitly named and shown for the first time (Stockade Assault & Captain Kidd’s Treasure), 2x Disguises explicitly named and shown for the first time (Buccaneer Captain & Spanish Officer), 6x adventures (listed only), 3x Wild West figures and 2x Wild West adventure packs (Cattle Rustler & War Dance; listed only), are all featured in the public’s Collectors Catalogue.

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1978 U.S.A: Again - No Fighting Furies products.

1978 UK: Only the 3x Pirate figures and the 3x Wild West figures are shown. (No reference to any accessories, adventures or disguises). No Fighting Furies appear in the 1979 edition.

Products

1974:

Pirate series:

Figures:

Peg-Leg: (Capt./Cap’n). (U.S code: 10 00 01, U.K code: FF-100).

(Supplied with hidden map, sabre, knife, peg-leg plug/stopper, grey breeches, one boot, white shirt, brown waistcoat, orange sash and ‘gold’ ring).

Hook: (Hook/Cap’n). (U.S code: 10 00 03, U.K code: FF-101).

(Supplied with a black wrist band, sabre, knife, purple breeches, shoes, socks, purple waistcoat, yellow sash and ‘gold’ ring).

Both figures released in corner window packaging with minor design variations and differing titles:

U.S versions. “Hook” & “Capt. Peg-Leg”: exclusive U.S release boxes. (With Matchbox logo at top of box).

European versions “Cap’n Hook” & “Cap’n Peg Leg”: exclusive European release boxes. (With Matchbox logo at bottom) *. (U.K codes: FF-101 & FF-100, respectively).

Both figures were also available in the U.S via retailer Sears in plain Sears branded packaging, as ‘Hook’ and ‘Captain Peg Leg’ [sic].

*Some boxes featured small “specification” statement at bottom rear. Some of which also used flat-bottomed inner inlay cards. Some boxes included the “specification” statement and a black key line around the lettering of the main promotional text on box front.

Not including the Sears packaging and including the U.S.A versions (and counting both figures as one) there are technically four versions with differing external details, but predominantly the USA, the European and European with key-line text versions.

Adventure accessories packs. (Each a mixture of clothing and general accessories):

The Captain Blood Adventure

The One-Eyed Sailor Adventure

The Hooded Falcon Adventure

The Spanish Main Adventure

The Redcoat Adventure

The Kung Fu Warrior Adventure

All 6 adventures were released in packs with design variants:

U.S exclusive standard packaging

European exclusive standard packaging (with language translations)

U.S exclusive ‘de lux set’ labelled standard packaging

All 6 adventures were also available in the U.S via retailer Sears in plain Sears branded packaging.

Playsets:

Sea Fury - Play set and carry case (standard Poop Deck design)

Contains: Vinyl foldout case with attached handle, Anchor with rope, Helm (wheel), 2x deck railings (often confused as one when stacked together), Chart Table, Chair, Decorative Decals (sticker sheet) and Instruction leaflet. Sea Fury retail packaging was a printed open-ended cardboard sleeve with a colour “photo-litho” on one side.

1975:

Pirate series:

Playsets:

Sea Fury - Pirate Ship Play Case (full ship version): U.S exclusive, available only via U.S retailer Sears

Contains: 3x red clips, mast connector, mast sail rubber O-ring (for assembly*); The vinyl foldout case/playset with attached handle, Anchor with rope, Prow section, Helm (wheel), wooden Mast (supplied in two parts, with skull and crossbones Jolly Roger fitted to one), suspended hammock, gangplank, ladders, white square sail and wooden Spar, ropes for securing Spar to stern and instruction leaflet. Sea Fury retail packaging was a printed cardboard open ended sleeve with a colour “photo-litho” on one side.

(*Clips trimmed and bridged together top sections of the front edge balustrades. Connector tube joined the two wooden masts together. O-ring on mast is double looped to slide spar through).

1976 – second wave releases:

Pirate series:

Figures:

The Ghost of Cap’n Kidd (Exclusively supplied in Europe in full colour “coffin” packaging. Codes: FF.102)

Capt. Kidd [sic] (as per The Ghost of Cap’n Kidd, above: exclusively available in the U.S via mail-order from retailer Sears and supplied in Sears branded plain packaging)

Disguise packs – Europe only product. (Clothing only):

Buccaneer Captain

(Contained: Tricorn Hat, Ruff, Blue Coat, Black Boots and White Breeches)

Spanish Officer

(Contained: Cloak, Helmet, Breastplate, Ruff, Brown Boots and Striped Breeches)

Accessory action packs – Europe only product. (Accessories only):

Cap’n Kidd’s Treasure

(Contained assorted accessories concurrently available in The Captain Blood and Spanish Main Adventure packs and the white belt and pouch from the Redcoat Adventure. Contents: Compass, Treasure Chest with Treasure, Telescope, Pistol, Shovel, Belt and Pouch, Tankard, Set of Keys and Treasure Map)

Stockade assault

(Contained assorted accessories concurrently available in The One-Eyed Sailor and Redcoat Adventure packs. Contents: 2x Belaying Pins, Rifle, Pouch, Pistol, Swivel cannon on gun barrel, 3x rammers, Axe, Grapple with rope, Powder horn)

Western Series:

Figures – Europe only product:

Black McCoy

(Included body-armour, black cattleman Stetson - with decorative red hat band, chin strap/cord and toggle - and a revolver handgun. Packaged with a brown handled knife – as like the other figures – but is omitted from box illustrations and Matchbox catalogues).

Kid Cortez

(Included body-armour, yellow sombrero with chin strap/cord and toggle, revolver handgun, brown handled knife and green cord for closing his waistcoat).

Crazy Horse

(Included two patterned hair bands, two head feathers, tomahawk and knife. There is a colour variant of his trousers: yellow or darker yellow/orange).

Sundance – the Wonder Horse (featured in promotional literature and series packaging, but not believed to have entered into production).

Accessory action packs – Europe only product:

Cattle rustler (Content: Rifle, Water Bottle with and Strap and Stopper, Camp Fire, Unrolling Blanket with straps, Pair of Initialled Branding Irons, Steers Skull, Pair of Chaps, Mug and Coffee Pot with Lid)

War dance (Content: “Peace Pipe”, Lance, Working Rattle, Drum with Drum Stick, Shield, Mask Headdress and Camp Fire)

Inexplicably some Peg-Legs and some Black McCoys have the same black wrist band as Hook.

#matchboxfightingfuries #vintageactionfigures

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unproduciblesmackdown · 7 years

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Kitten Gray, Periwinkle

Kitten Grey: Do you have any pets? If so, describe them. uh its been ages since i had pets that were Technically mine, but the last batch that were sort of mineish included:ricky: a black cat with a white spot on his chest and stomach and a kinked tail. he likes to be whacked on the side of the stomach, called thumping. pretty social but also bad at not pooping on the floor next to the litter box. he just showed up one day also and didnt leave. brought a robin inside once at like 5:30am. likes to sit on a stool in the kitchen and watch stuff. also absurdly chill like you can pick him up and spin him around and he just hangs there. if you pick him up so he can hang on your shoulder he likes to try crawling onto your back to lie there instead.flint: virtually always called finnegan or finster instead. a stray picked up from where my mom worked. one of those sort of tortoiseshell brown/black mottled tabbies. kind of slowly getting over being skittish. tries to sneak into the trash. likes sunbathing and likes soft blankets, especially this specific one with penguins on it. also likes to be held but only on certain occasions and until he decides its overcalvin: a big orange cat who is clueless and the sweetest cat in the world. adopted from a shelter to be ricky’s friend after the original friend got run over. likes to walk outside, sleep in the sun, and tries to eat more foods than the dog. will also tolerate playing with the dog to a degree. very talkative & will meow back whenever you say anything, very cuddly, gets upset a few times a day when he hasnt been snuggled enough and will yell and try to climb up your leg to be held. besides being hugged for twenty minutes he also likes to have the top of his head shoved against your chin, called face smashing, and he likes to try to wash your face for you, called schnuffing, though the whole process of picking him up when he’s lonely is called schnuffing. super funnyteddy: a small black newfoundland with a white patch on his chest. he’s inherently funny because they have funny faces and big feet and a big head and he’s like a cat and sleeps mostly. he doesnt know how to play tug of war and tries to cheat by just lying down but then i’d drag him across the floor anyways. loves the snow. lies on an a/c vent in the summer. loves walks but last i knew he was getting a bit old and they tired him out faster though he still likes them. if you ask him to roll over for treats he also tries to cheat sometimes by either getting on his back and putting his feet in the air for a second or else just spinning around in place on his butt. hilariousPeriwinkle: What’s something ordinary that has personal meaning to you?oh man, not much. i dont have any like significant things like that really. if i see a mechanical pencil im a little moved b/c i draw with those but its one of those things that seems to be getting lost all the time. i cherish them.

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chelsorz07 · 7 years

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does everybody hate my walks down memory lane yet?

This one’s actually a year older than the others. 2009 vs 2017

BASIC INFORMATION Name: chelsea. I mean my last name has changed but my first name hasn’t. Birthday: july 26. -- 274 days till i'm 21!! I guess 274 days till I’m 29? Shoe Size: eight. Nine. My feet got fat along with the rest of me. Hair Colour: dark reddish brown. Several different shades of reddish brown. Plus some grey. Eye Colour: hazel. More like green on the outside, brown on the inside. Hazel would be its own separate color. Relationship Status: taken. Married. Zodiac: leo. Still. School: none. Been done with that shit for a decade now. __________________________________________________ FAVOURITES Colour: green. Green, plaid, black, grey. Male Celebrity: mike lobel. Jensen Ackles. Female Celebrity: sophia bush. Danneel Ackles. Shoes: chucks & flip flops. My grey BareTraps booties. Brand: starting to realllly love old navy. especially when i can get pants, 2 shirts, and a jacket all for 36 bucks lol That’s really broad. Like brand of clothes? I don’t have one. Brand of makeup? Tarte. Brand of shoes? Nike. Brand of food? Great Value idk lol Book: second helpings. The dictionary. JK it’s still and will always be Second Helpings. Sport: football. Football. TV Show: one tree hill. Supernatural. Gum: bubblicious hubba bubba max blue raspberry. I don’t like gum anymore. Hair Colour on Opposite Sex: brown or black. Brown. __________________________________________________ NAME SOMETHING THAT STARTS WITH A: aftershave...no idea why that popped in my head haha Absolut vodka. B: bubbles. Barnacles. C: chicken. Cheerleading. D: dark. Dartboard. E: entertainment. Elliptical. F: fooooood. Frontierland (spn). G: great. Gyration. J: jizz lol Jell-o. K: knife. that was jo's answer but i can't think of anything else. Kiss. L: latino - where the hell are these words coming from lol Laser. M: mother. Megaphone. N: nicotine. Narcolepsy. O: otter. Outback Steakhouse because I just ate there the other day. P: poker. Petticoat. Wow. Q: quailman! Quaker Boy. Man I miss that job.

R: reese's cup. Rage. S: shit. Salmon. T: titties? Tupperware. U: underwear. Uganda. V: van. Ventriloquist. W: walker. Wakeboard. X: xylophone - and no you spelled it right lol X-ray. Y: yorkie. Yosemite. Z: zane (hot guy on H2o). Zillow. I’m in the market for a house. __________________________________________________ LOVE Have a Crush: you could say that. Many, on celebrities. Do they like you back: yep. They don’t even know me. Or are you in a Relationship Now: yeah. Married. If Someone Likes You: doesn't matter. It’s whatevs. __________________________________________________ 5.. 5 FAVOURITE MOVIES 1. bring it on. 2. grind. 3. halloween. 4. dirty dancing. 5. degrassi goes hollywood. not so much for the movie, but for the fact that manny & jay got back together. Mean Girls, Bring it On, Grind, Halloween, and Pocahontas. 5 FAVOURITE CELEBRITIES 1. keith urban. 2. mike lobel. 3. sophia bush. 4. hilarie burton. 5. and yes, james lafferty. Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, Jared Padalecki, Randy Owen, and Johnny Rzeznik. 5 THINGS YOU FIND IN YOUR ROOM 1. pandas - everywhere. 2. bed. 3. guitars. 4. tv. 5. clothes all over the floor. Mini fridge, bookshelves, record player, still clothes all over the floor, and Dave because he’s sleeping right now. Or he’s trying to. 5 THINGS YOU CANT LIVE WITHOUT 1. friends. 2. music. 3. chicken. 4. my phone. 5. beer. Money, Netflix, family/friends, Rockstar, and music. And cigarettes. 5 BEST ARTISTS/BANDS 1. goo goo dolls. 2. poison. 3. keith urban. 4. the spill canvas. 5. firehouse. Goo Goo Dolls, Alabama, Matchbox Twenty, All Time Low, and Sara Bareilles. 5 BEST BRANDS/STORES 1. old navy. 2. arizona/penney's. 3. avon. 4. spencer's. 5. thsirthell. Amazon, ULTA, Hot Topic, Sheetz, and Joann Fabrics just because I get a discount and they have all my Halloween decorations. __________________________________________________ QUESTIONS 1. Have an obsession? a few. Many. 2. Where do you plan to go this summer? road trip down south with mah bee eff eff. Well the Foo Fighters are gonna be in Cleveland July 25, which is the day before my birthday. So I wanna go to that. Also you can do tours of Waverly Hills Sanatorium in Louisville. 3. What Month is it? octoberrr. Obviously since I took this quiz eight years ago today, it’s also now October. 4. Anything big coming up? not really. Hopefully buying a house and moving home soon. 5. Why are you doing this? need something else to do while i watch gymnastics & wait for it to be 4 so i can watch the bills beat carolina. The sound on my tv keeps cutting out and it’s really aggravating so I got on my laptop to catch up on youtube videos but I got sidetracked doing this. 6. Like your parents? no. My dad yes. My mom...ehh, things are slowly improving. 7. Do you sleep with a teddy bear? heffalump. Nope. 8. Do you eat when you're nervous? i eat all the time. I didn’t even read my previous answer and “I eat all the time” popped into my head as soon as I saw the question. 9. Own a dress? surprisingly...i have like four or five...yeah, that's a lot for me lol I have a couple but I can’t wear them because of my skin. 10. Are you a fast typer? quite. 80-90 wpm. 11. Do you wanna have kids? no. Yes. 12. Who do you usually have Christmas dinner with? my parents, my sisters, mark, austen, maranda (now that she's here haha), cindy, and emily. and diane & the kids show up at some point during the day. My family but I won’t be home for Christmas this year. 13. Who do you celebrate New Years with? i haven't really celebrated it at all lately...but this year the crew's getting smashed for sure. I don’t celebrate it. 14. Where do you live? here. Ohio. Unfortunately. 15. Have you made a cootie catcher in your younger years? oh god, so many. Yeah a lot. 16. Plans this weekend? it's over. bowling, shopping, out with people, dinner, out again. Well this past weekend we went to Canton on Friday, I worked Saturday and then we got groceries, and we went home Sunday and came back here Monday. Next weekend I have no plans except work. 17. To your left is: wall, window, fan, cabinet, cd tower, atari stuff. Table, Dish remote, lamp, bottle of water, picture of my sister, some random mail, two candles, and Dave’s wallet/keys/deodorant/Axe spray. 18. To your right is: wall, fridge, pandas, guitars, amp, cabinet. My phone, Vizio remote, sound bar remote, another table with a bunch of crap on it, and the couch. 19. In your pocket is: nothing. Cigarettes, lighter, my debit card, and a Sheetz receipt. 20. Nervous about anything? kinda. Not really. 21. Scared of the Dark? nope. Negative. 22. Have any phobias? several. Driving, bridges, weather, specifically tornadoes even though I’ve never seen one, bees, being in public, the possibility of finding out that I can’t have kids, riding in a car with Dave, planes...I’m sure there are more but I can’t think of them all right now. 23.Your Opinion on Turtles? indifferent. Same. 24. Whats a Store near your house? save a lot, tops, arby's, family dollar, dollar general, the liquor store, CVS, the music store, goodwill, country fair, and all the places on main st. The closest one is a hair salon but idk if that counts as a “store”...probably one of the restaurants on 3rd st or Dollar General. 25. What did you do last march break? nothing? I don’t have March break. 26. Like Gum? only one kind. No. 27. Age you’d like to be? 274 days older than i am. Don’t care. 28. Place you would rather be? i'm good. Bradford. 29. Were you ever obsessed with High School Musical? haha yeah, i was for a while. You betcha. I still love it. Not the third one though. 30. Movie You Would like to see? paranormal activity. For the record, Paranormal Activity was shitty AF. I want to see Thank You For Your Service __________________________________________________ THE END Happy you're done? kinda. I have to poop so yeah I guess. What are you gonna do now? watch tv, watch football, then eat dinner. Poop, smoke a cigarette, and watch youtube videos.

#not spn #personal #about me #bring back myspace surveys 2k17 #i do what i want

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illneverrecover · 7 years

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the biggest tag ever

@joz-stankovich tagged me in this because they are so sweet and kind, bless.

THE LAST:

1. DRINK: water, I’m lame. 2. PHONE CALL: today at work, I call patients all day long. Last personal call was to the doc for my kid. 3. TEXT MESSAGE: my last text was to a group text with my husband and our two friends - “We still bringing yeungling to Denver though, right??” (We leave for Denver Comic Con on Thursday morning and Yeungling is a good ass beer, ok???) 4. SONG YOU LISTENED TO: Black Sheep - Metric 5. TIME YOU CRIED: Oh god, probably two days ago or so? HAVE YOU: -6. DATED SOMEONE TWICE: yes, then I married him, so it worked out alright. 7. KISSED SOMEONE AND REGRETTED IT: eh, not really? 8. BEEN CHEATED ON: yes 9. LOST SOMEONE SPECIAL: Yeah - my husband’s granny passed away last year, and we were super close. She always supported us even when we were young and dumb, and inspired me to become a nurse so she is missed immensely. 10. BEEN DEPRESSED: yes 11. GOTTEN DRUNK AND THROWN UP: ugh yes, though its been quite some time since that’s happened (thank god)

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS:

12-14: purple, black, red

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. MADE NEW FRIENDS: Yes! I’ve made so many awesome friends through tumblr and mystic messenger, it’s kind of crazy and I love it. 16. FALLEN OUT OF LOVE: no 17. LAUGHED UNTIL YOU CRIED: Yes, so many times, most recently yesterday. My husband took me on a date to celebrate our dating anniversary (13 years we’ve been together, wtf) and was being stupid in Target and I couldn’t handle it 18. FOUND OUT SOMEONE WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU: yeah, but that stuff doesn’t really bother me. 19. MET SOMEONE WHO CHANGED YOU: Yes - in the last year, I met my daughter, and she’s changed me the most. 20. FOUND OUT WHO YOUR FRIENDS ARE: I mean, I’ve always known. There are a few people I’m not as close with but I wouldn’t say we aren’t still friends. Life happens. 21. KISSED SOMEONE ON YOUR FACEBOOK LIST: Yes, I kiss my husband daily (I can almost hear @feelsgood-anon saying GAAAAAAAAY)

GENERAL:

22. HOW MANY OF YOUR FACEBOOK FRIENDS DO YOU KNOW IN REAL LIFE: All of them. I don’t use FB as much as I used to but I keep it pretty private. 23. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS: a cat Harlow, and two corgis - Eevee & Winry. 24. DO YOU WANT TO CHANGE YOUR NAME: I’ve never been a huge fan of my name but I’m used to it, I don’t even know what I would change it to. 25. WHAT DID YOU DO FOR YOUR LAST BIRTHDAY: Every year for my birthday, God blesses me with a new Star Wars movie (seriously, they either come out near or on my birthday - December 15th) so it usually evolves going to see those. Last year we saw Rouge One & I also did a Krampus Pub Crawl and it was awesome. 26. WHAT TIME DID YOU WAKE UP: 11:30 pm, 12:40 am, 1:30 am, 4:00 am, and then for good at 6:33 am (thanks a lot, tiny human). 27. WHAT WERE YOU DOING AT MIDNIGHT LAST NIGHT: Sleeping, I’m an old ass woman. 28. NAME SOMETHING YOU CAN’T WAIT FOR: I’m so excited for Denver Comic Con this weekend! A week away from work in a different city, dressing up and nerding out with my friends. It’s gonna be dope. 29. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SAW YOUR MOM: December. I live across the country from my family. 30. WHAT IS ONE THING YOU WISH YOU COULD CHANGE IN YOUR LIFE: Oh god, I’m really not sure? I wish I could spend more time doing things that I love and figuring out myself, I guess. 31. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING RIGHT NOW: I am watching The Bachelorette because I have a trash kink and I enjoy screaming about it weekly with @zombolouge 32. HAVE YOU EVER TALKED TO A PERSON NAMED TOM: My first crush was on a kid named Tommy if that counts. 33. SOMETHING THAT IS GETTING ON YOUR NERVES: Work being stupid. 34. MOST VISITED WEBSITE: Tumblr, AO3, my email, reddit. 35. MOLE/S: I don’t have any, just some freckles. 36. MARK/S: I have a scar from an ice skate (lmao true story) on my wrist, two surgical scars (one on each wrist) from my carpal tunnel surgery, a c-section scar, a scar on my knee from a door jam, and numerous tattoos and piercings. 37. CHILDHOOD DREAM: A singer who ONLY sang slow songs. Obviously. 38. HAIRCOLOR: Right now, it’s bright red again (yaaaassss). Naturally, I’m poop brown. 39. LONG OR SHORT HAIR: In general, or mine? Mine’s medium ish I guess. 40. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON SOMEONE: Saeyoung, Jumin, Zen, Masamune, & @serensama 41. WHAT DO YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF: I like to think I’m funny and I’m fun to be around? Physically probably my eyes. 42. PIERCINGS: my ears & my nose. 43. BLOODTYPE: B+!!! 44. NICKNAME: Jackie is a nickname, haha. My real name is Jacqueline. Other than that? Jack, Kiki, JG, Nurse, Hey you, Have you ever seen that show Nurse Jackie?, Babe, Mama, Babes, other inappropriate names my husband gives me. 45. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: married 46. ZODIAC: Sagittarius & Dragon 47. PRONOUNS: she/her 48. FAVORITE TV SHOW: I recently just finished The Handmaids Tale, Seraph of the End, and American Gods, they were awesome. Game of Thrones, Westworld, Stranger Things, and so many anime that I probably shouldn’t list.

49. TATTOOS: I have 7 - a huge shoulder/back lace piece, a sugar skull & French phrase on my back, a sparrow on my chest, a tree of life on my hip, a shooting star on left foot, and a phrase in Italian on my right foot. I need mooooooreeee 50. RIGHT OR LEFT HAND: right 51. SURGERY: bilateral carpal tunnel surgery bc I’m an old ass birch, c-section, wisdom teeth removal. 52. HAIR DYED IN DIFFERENT COLOR: My hair has been every color, haha. I’ve been dying it since I was 13. Brown, Blonde, Red, Pink, Purple, Blue, Orange/copper, combinations of all of those. 53. SPORT: I like watching football, hockey & baseball 55. VACATION: I’ve been on a bunch throughout my life all over, though my most recent favorite was my trip to Mexico with husband & friends after his most recent deployment. 56. PAIR OF TRAINERS: I legit couldn’t think what trainers were?? why am I so stupid??? Probably my grey chucks.

MORE GENERAL:

57. EATING: dick. I mean... what? 58. DRINKING: nothing, currently. 59. I’M ABOUT TO: fart around on tumblr, catch up on AO3 61. WAITING FOR: Wednesday to be over with, so I can get ready for my long weekend and Denver! 62. WANT: uhhhh a million dollars? not to work tomorrow? A PONY.

63. GET MARRIED: I already did, hopefully won’t need to do that again 64. CAREER: I am a Registered Nurse & BSN and I currently work in a Gastroenterology & Hepatology clinic.

WHICH IS BETTER

65. HUGS OR KISSES: I love hugs but there is just something special about kisses. 66. LIPS OR EYES: eyes 67. SHORTER OR TALLER: I’m pretty fucking short, so I need someone taller to reach all of the things. 68. OLDER OR YOUNGER: eh, I don’t really care. 70. NICE ARMS OR NICE STOMACH: oooooh arms 71. SENSITIVE OR LOUD: I like both. 72. HOOK UP OR RELATIONSHIP: I’m a relationship kinda gal. 73. TROUBLEMAKER OR HESITANT: I’m a well known troublemaker, woops.

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. KISSED A STRANGER: No. Well, kind of? I kissed a girl who I didn’t realize I knew but apparently we went to high school together. 75. DRANK HARD LIQUOR: of course, probably more than I should. 76. LOST GLASSES/CONTACT LENSES: Not my glasses but I’ve totally lost contacts and it suuuucks 77. TURNED SOMEONE DOWN: yup 78. SEX IN THE FIRST DATE: No 79. BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART: Yes, though it was never intentional :/ 80. HAD YOUR HEART BROKEN: yes. 81. BEEN ARRESTED: nooooo 82. CRIED WHEN SOMEONE DIED: of course 83. FALLEN FOR A FRIEND: yes, this is how most of my relationships started.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84. YOURSELF: on occasion 85. MIRACLES: sometimes 86. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT: No. I like the idea? But not realistically. 87. SANTA CLAUS: No, though my dad had us fooled FOR YEARS. He even got us gold buttons with the initials ‘SC’ on them and said they were from Santa. He was a sneaky bastard. 88. KISS IN THE FIRST DATE: sure? I haven’t been on a date with not my husband since I was 15 soooooo 89. ANGELS: Of course, it’s the only way I can describe some of the cherubs I’ve met through here.

OTHER:

90. CURRENT BEST FRIENDS NAME: I have many different people that I would consider my best friends that I talk to daily, but if I had to pick one, It’d be my husband probably - Aulin. 91. EYE COLOR: green! 92. FAVORITE MOVIE: Too many to name, once again (i’m awful at picking favorites) but Howl’s Moving Castle & The Princess Brides are two classics.

This thing is a BEAST so I won’t tag anyone - if you are interesting in doing this, consider this your tag!

#ooooh boy this was a long one!#i love doing these things though haha #and i love reading them #i'm nosy #but i don't blame anyone if they don't want to #tagged #jackie gets tagged #jackie jabbers

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abdlbdsmstories · 8 years

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The Setup

This story involves sexual encounters, female degradation, humiliation and nappies/diapers.

PART 2

"That was beautiful my dear. Thank you. Heres the plates for you. I see your nappy is still unused." Ryan said to me. I was shocked that he was expecting me to use it.

"Please don't make me use the nappy. Can't I just use the toilet like any normal person?" I asked him. He immediately looked at me angrily,

"You will do as you are told and use that nappy for its intended purposes. Do you want a proper spanking? When you want to use your nappy you will come in here and ask us if you can use it. Ok" He asked. I nodded my head, and walked off in a petulunt manner and washed the rest of the dishes. The kitchen now looked pristine, the surfaces glistined and I was pleased with my work. A shame there was so much more to do. I then went into the bathroom and it was a state. The toilet was caked in pooh, the bath had a layer of scum all round it and the sink looked disgusting. I got the bleach and just covered the bathroom in the stuff and left it to soak whilst I cleaned up the bedroom. This was a bit easier than the other rooms, all I had to do was make the bed and put the clothes away. Strangely there were a few bits of womans clothing on the floor, a bit of lingerie to be precise, from Victorias Secret so it was quite expensive. I laid it on the bed neatly then went back to the bathroom and the mug and grime cleared easily. I scrubbed the toilet, the increasing on my bladder and bowels was making me want to use it. I so wanted too but I knew I would get caught so I decided against it. Once completed, I went into the front room where the boys were sitting. They ordered me to fetch them a beer from the fridge which I did. I got to the fridge and I was hit with a crippling pain across my stomach and bowels. The pressure was immense, and I knew I was in trouble. I went back into the front room and handed the men there beers. I had to ask the question I had been putting off for so long,

"I need to use the toilet please." I laid on the puppy dog eyes and pleaded to them.

"What for?" Was the reply I got from Steve. I couldn't admit to it, but I had no choice.

"I need a wee and a no.2." I replied embarrasingly. Now they both smiled and looked intrigued.

"How big is your poop going to be? Do you think the nappys is going to hold it all?" Ryan asked, mockingly.

"I, I dont know. I think I should use the toilet." I shyly replied, now hopping from one foot to another in pain. I grimaced in pain.

"Don't you dare even think about pooping yourself just yet. LEt me get the camera first." Steve replied. He went off into the bedroom then came back with the camera. I was ordered to go and stand on the little balcony and face the boys.

"Right Missy, you can let yourself go now. And don't hold back." Ryan ordered me. I couldn't hold it anymore and squatted down, the poop immediately vacated my bowels and filled the nappy, accompanied by a heavy of stream of piss it sagged desperately betwen my legs. The pee leaked out, running down my legs and pooling in front of me. Then a leakage of poop ran down my legs and pooled around my feet. I fell to the ground and ended up sitting in a mass of pee and poop. As my padded backside hit the gorund, the poop splattered up my back and out of the leg cuffs making a huge mess much to the delight of the 2 men. They were both chuckling away as I was now in tears, stuck in this highly embarassing and disgusting predicament. Ryan spoke to me,

"Stand up and show the camera what you have done." I stood up, the brown and yellow mess of a nappy sagging between my legs and slowly turned around. The back of the nappy was full with poop, as was most of the front.

"What have you done?" Steve asked me.

"Wet and messed myself." I replied, now crying, my eyes streaming with tears. I bet I looked every part the real baby now. The smell of poop was quite overwhelming even though I was perched on an outside balcony. Grey clouds were now over head so they ordered me inside.

"Come inside now, the rain will wash your foul mess away. Go and stand in the bath tub." Ryan ordered me. I made my way inside, and hopped into the bath tub and stood waiting for the men. Steve came in with the camera and Ryan ordered me to take the nappy off and stand facing the wall. I undid the tapes and the nappy dropped to the floor, splattering over my feet. I turned round and pressed my hands against the wall whilst the lads inspected my backside. My bum was quite pert, not too flabby but now it was caked in poop. They were both mocking me calling me ' shit-girl' which was quite upsetting. I turned round to face the men and Ryan handed me a black bag.

"Put your shitty nappy in here shit-girl then get yourself cleaned up. We will be waiting for you in the bedroom." I did as he said and scooped up the nappy and put it in the bag then put the bag on the bathroom floor and turned the shower on. The water was freezing cold and sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn;t work out how to turn the jet power down and the cold water was painful. I positoned it betwen my legs and watched all the water turn brown as the shit cleared from my ass and legs. I quickly ran the sponge and soap over my body and got out still shivering. The men hadn't left me a towel or anything so I quickly shook off the excess water and went into the bedroom where the men were waiting for me. They had a nappy laid out on the bed for me which I immediately hopped on. They were both naked and I knew some form of sexual encounter was close. I still had the babys dummy clamped to my nipple and Ryan shoved the dummy in my mouth whilst he nappied me. HE didnt bother with any powder she taped the nappy which was bigger than the other one over my pussy. Then Steve caught me by surprise and slipped something over my head, pinning my arms to the side of my body. It was a cream strait jacket, Steve proceeded to tighten the buckles till it was tight on me. I tried to wriggle out of it but it was no use I was officially stuck and at there mercy. Then a mask was placed over my head, taking away my sense of sight and sound. It just had a hole for my mouth to fit in that was it. I could hear or see nothing. Then there was nothing, I couldn't feel anybody touching me or anything. There was this inevitable suspense, then I felt a hand move my nappy to one side and a penis slipped inside me. It felt huge, it definitly wasn't Ryan or Steve I couldn't remember those 2 being that big. It slowly moved its way inside me, before pumping and pumping away vigourously. Another penis entered my mouth and I was being well and truely used. I was started off in the missionary position for what felt like an hour or so, then forcibly moved into doggy style a few pillows propped underneath me to heighten up my backside. I was constantly fucked and face fucked aggressively, admittedly the way I liked it. Then I was flipped between cowgirl and reverse cowgirl riding the cocks like a proper cow girl. After what was around 2 hours or so a few of the participants cummed in my mouth big style. I thought I was going to choke at the amount of cum that I had to swallow. A good 3 or 4 loads were dumped inside me. Then the sex stopped, I think I cummed the guys whilst not orgasming myself. The mask was ripped from my head and it took me a minute or 2 to adapt to the light. There was a huge shock in store for me, there standing at the end of the bed was my ex husband. The man who had always dreamt of turning me into a nappy wearing slut. I wanted to cry, I was so humiliated and to top it all off he had his best friend filming it, along with Ryan and Steve they had all fucked me.

"You bastard, I can't believe you have done this to me" I blurted out to him.

"Now now baby girl, from what I hear you didn't put up much of a fight!" He replied.

"I was desperate for the money. Our divorce has left me skint." I cried out to him.

"Ahhh diddums. Should have thought about that before turning down my offer. So here we are, 18 hours to go. We sure got some fun games to play with you, you little slut. And seeing as you haven't orgasmed yet I think we should let you." He sniggered back. I was quite scared now and this showed as I flooded my nappy.

"Ha, ha look at the slut, shes pissed herself." Ryan told the room, all of them chuckling away. My ex husband, Mark, ripped off my nappy and proceeded to humiliate me by placing it on my face and taping it tightly round head. The pee stain landed right on my face, intoxicating me with the rancid aroma of piss. Then he ripped a hole in the nappy where my mouth was and rammed a dildo into my mouth telling me to suck it good as it was going in my pussy. I awkwardly gagged on the dildo, lubricating it as much as possible then it was taken from my mouth and pushed inside my pussy. I could hear the men laughing and taking it in turns to ram it in and out of my pussy forcing me into a screaming, but muffled orgasm. My body writhed up and down, humping the dildo as much as possible then I forced my legs apart and let out a squirting orgasm. Piss and cum squirted out of my pussy all over the bed. The men loved it, they were high fiving each other at the fact they had a squirter on there hands. The nappy was then taken from my face and Mark gave the men there orders.

"Right, put that nappy back on her. Get as many on her as is possible. Then the pants then take her home. I'm done with her for the time being." I was quite relieved to here him say that. Though my humiliation was to get slightly worse. Steve, Marc and his friend left the room with the camera sat on the tripod at the end of the bed whilst Ryan stayed to nappy me. We chatted for a bit whilst he retaped the soaking wet nappy on me after powdering my pussy vigourously.

"How did he get you into this?" I asked.

"Well me and Steve play football with him and he told us where you sometimes hang out with your friends. I must admite we were kinda freaked out by the whole nappy thing but he paid us well so we cant complain. Plus we got a free sex session out of it." He smiled back at me, winking. He was quite cute in a good way. I couldn't understand his nappying technique, after every nappy he put on me he ripped holes in it. I asked why.

"Mark told us to do it. Otherwise everything will soak into your first nappy and leak. I've got to get at least a half dozen on you to last till the game ends." He replied back. I just stared blankly at him, looking shocked as he proceeded with the 3rd nappy and repeated the process of tearing holes and strips in it. My legs were now firmly prized apart and thoughts were going through my mind of the how the bulk was going to be concealed. A few minutes and Ryan had gotten the 6th nappy on. He stood me on my feet and I looked down at my newly padded self. The nappys came up over my belly button resting just under my breasts in effect covering my whole chest, then round to my back expanding my already biggish backside immensely. I couldn't put my knees together and I had to waddle to move. My ordeal wasn't finished yet, Ryan pulled out a pair of huge transparent plastic pants with a chain attached and helped me into them. The chain was tightened and locked behind me. Ryan patted my backside, kissed me on the cheek and left the room, leaving me standing there helpless. A few minutes later the door reopened and I was dragged into the front room.

"We are going to take you home now seeing as it is getting late and we have a business deal to do tonight. You have 6 nappies on. That should last you till we come back tomorrow morning, around 12ish. Thats when your ordeal will be over. Understand? If I find you have tampered with the nappys in anyway you will spend the whole week nappied. Remember we have pictures and videos!" Mark exclaimed to me. I nodded my head in agreement. I now had to spend at least another 8-10 hours in the nappys and use them for their intended purpose.

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