#blue crown hanging parrots

[birdblues]

Blue-crowned Hanging Parrot

[alonglistofbirds]

[1445/10977] Blue-crowned Hanging Parrot - Loriculus galgulus

Order: Psittaciformes (parrots) Superfamily: Psittacoidea (true parrots) Family: Psittaculidae (Asian and Australasian parrots) Subfamily: Agapornithinae

Photo credit: Ayuwat Jearwattanakanok via Macaulay Library

[dougdimmadodo]

Blue-Crowned Hanging Parrot (Loriculus galgulus)

Family: Typical Parrot Family (Psittaculidae)

IUCN Conservation Status: Least Concern

A tiny parrot with a distinctive blue spot on its head, the Blue-Crowned Hanging Parrot is named for its unusual sleeping habits; like other hanging parrots but unlike the vast majority of birds, members of this species sleep hanging down from branches with their heads tucked beneath their wings, seemingly mimicking leaves to avoid detection by nocturnal predators. Found mainly in damp forests across Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore and Thailand, Blue-Crowned Hanging Parrots feed mainly on fruits (although they may also eat seeds and flowers) and may travel alone, in pairs or in larger groups containing over 100 individuals depending on food availability and season. Between January and July flocks of Blue-Crowned Hanging Parrots split up into mating pairs, with males (which can be distinguished from females such as the individuals pictured above by their red throats and more colourful tailfeathers) attempting to court females by producing high-pitch calls, puffing up their red plumage and offering regurgitated food. After pairing up couples build their nests in tree cavities (carrying materials by tucking them under their wings,) with females laying clutches of 3-4 eggs which they incubate and protect while their mate provides them, and later their chicks, with food.

——————————————————————————

Image Source: https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/18967-Loriculus-galgulus

[helluvatimes]

Upside Down Lunch

A Blue-crowned Hanging Parrot busy foraging during a pause in the day long rain. Photo credit: Eleanor Chua.

Between us, we took more than a dozen of this feasting parrot. But this one of it feeding upside down seemed to reflect better its habit of hanging upside down like leaves when camouflaging itself in the trees.

[herpsandbirds]

Blue Crown Hanging Parrot (Loriculus galgulus), male, family Psittaculidae, order Psittaciformes, Singapore

photograph by Khong Yew

[qjaidenhere]

BEGGING to hear about ur familoier au plssss

Okok so!! This is a Jaiden and Bobby centric au with some Roier (I mostly came up with this au because I was sad about Jaiden and Bobby and wanted them to be happy) it’s very slice of life fluffy modern au- just them being happy together :]] just know this is extremely self indulgent because I want them to be happy and if feels ooc or something no it doesn’t :]

much more under cut

Bobby often goes to the park with his family!! He likes to brings his fake sword and swing it at anything and everything he sees. he also likes to pick the many flowers around the park to make flower crowns!! It’s rare for a friend (or parent) of Bobby’s to not have at least one of his flower crowns (and his parents often have at least one flower of his on them all the time)

Bobby also loves to paint with his family!! He will draw on canvas, walls, his own skin, whatever, so he often has doodles up and down his arms. The family will often put aside time in the day for them to paint together (at Bobby’s request) and it’s often his highlight of the day :D he likes to copy Jaiden’s arm tattoos with his drawings on his arms (though he won’t admit it to her) and he often draws his family or his friends!!

Bobby also has two dogs- a big brown newfoundland named Oso and his husky named Tripita (he’s also named the two raccoons outside and sometimes tries to take them inside but they always escape)

Jaiden is a freelance artist who works on commission who is roommates with Roier. She is learning Spanish for both Roier and Bobby (who is bilingual) and they both encourage and help her while she’s learning! She went to law school for a bit when she was younger- but ended up dropping out.

all the eggs go to the same school and are all in the same class (for the older eggs) and the younger eggs (when they come into the story) often hang out with them at lunch and such :D Roier also babysits Tilin on the weekends so they and Bobby are pretty good friends (though they sometimes joke at being rivals) and Dapper sometimes comes over for sleepovers!

All the eggs are kind of close which means that their parents also all know each other because of their kids- it’s how some of them get to know each other at first but a fair few knew each other beforehand!

Misc thingys:

-the city is name quesadilla city

-jaiden once spent a day going from store to store to find the specific brand of french fries that she and Bobby likes lmao

-Jaiden often shows Bobby the basics of her job/s because of his interest in art

-Bobby is in awe of Juannaflippa because of her nerf gun

-all of the eggs are around 8-10 in this au I think but I’m still figuring out ages

-the au is called a garden of missed promises

-jaiden dyes her hair and convinces Roier to get a streak (she wanted him to get blue but they settled on red) and Bobby begged enough that they got him a blue underside of his hair

-they love to go biking together around the city

-the federation is kinda just the government for now,, they’re not nearly as bad as the canon federation and mostly are just in the background

-when they save up enough money they sometimes go out to a cottage on the countryside and hang around there

-Bobby and Tilin originally met when they had a fight at school that turned into their Roier and Q fighting over who has the best kid (they mostly made up though)

also it’s a sort of fantasy modern au only in that they are still hybrids instead of all being human- Jaiden is a parrot hybrid, Roier is a spider hybrid, Bobby is a dragon hybrid, pretty standard (not all the eggs are dragon hybrids though)

it’s VERY early qsmp based if you couldn’t tell already though I do want to add some of the other language creators (especially cellbit for spiderbit) but I’m still working on figuring out how they would work in this au! also Pepito and Empanada are going to be confusing to fit into this au- I don’t want to not include them but idk,, if y’all have any ideas they would be greatly appreciated

also people who expressed interest: (sorry for tag! I won’t do it again I just wanted to show y’all in all the same place)

@13minmailman

@kaihuntrr

@sleepdeprivedbooklover

@fruitlessjam48

@v01dw4tch3r

[onebigbooty19]

〜 Extra Edition ~

Arnold and Rishe's Clandestine Outing in the Town Below the Castle

Under the clear blue sky, the market they stopped by was bustling with activity.

Arnold and Rishe wandered around, checking out various stalls, and Rishe was having a thoroughly enjoyable time.

Visiting a market for the first time was inherently fun. However, there was one thing bothering Rishe.

(Their gaze...!)

Occasionally, amidst the bustling crowd of the market, people would blatantly stare in their direction.

More accurately, they were looking at Arnold, who stood next to Rishe.

"Hey, hey, did you see that guy just now!? He's so incredibly handsome!"

"I saw him! I mean, how could you miss him!? Is such a dashing man even real in this world...!?"

It's no wonder the girls are getting excited. Rishe looked up at Arnold as she received her items.

His straight nose, cold-looking thin lips. Well-shaped eyebrows and those beautiful, almond-shaped eyes. His eyelashes were long enough to cast a shadow on his cheeks.

As she gazed at him, Arnold noticed.

"...What is it?"

" Oh, nothing. I just thought your face stands out; you know? "

Upon hearing this, Arnold looked somewhat taken aback.

" Let me make it clear, though. It's you who's been attracting all the attention since earlier. "

" Huh? ...Ah, well. It's because of my hair color, you see. "

"..."

Rishe spoke and lightly tugged at the end of her hair, which Elsie had braided into a tail.

In this country, the most common hair color is in the brown spectrum. Among the nobility, silver and golden hair are more common, and coral-colored hair like Rishe's is rare.

As Arnold started walking, Rishe walked beside him and asked, "Wouldn't it have been better to dye my hair?"

"It's not about the hair color."

After saying this decisively, Arnold glanced briefly at the men walking around them. Meanwhile, the women they passed by continued to fawn over Arnold and then look at Rishe with complex expressions. Witnessing this scene repeatedly made Rishe increasingly uneasy.

(When someone as handsome as him walks around casually, he really stands out...)

At this rate, wouldn't people start to notice that he's Crown Prince Arnold Hein?

(Just remembering it makes my stomach churn... In my days as a knight, His Majesty the King would often venture into the town and drink and sing with the people. But everyone could tell right away, "It's the king in disguise!")

That's why, taking a break by the side of the road, Rishe broached the subject.

"Why not try wearing those goggles you have?"

"..."

Today, Arnold had goggles hanging around his neck.

Travelers wear them to shield their eyes from the sun and sand, so they wouldn't attract undue

attention. At least, it seemed better than exposing his overly polished facial features.

But Arnold seemed to have a different idea.

"From experience, the more you try to conceal, the more likely you are to be exposed. These goggles are just for emergencies."

(...Well, that does make sense...)

The king Rishe served also blatantly disguised himself every time. Perhaps that wasn't a good idea after all.

(Even hiding his eyes won't disguise Crown Prince Arnold's handsome features. His face is on a level where you can't just casually look away, so maybe it's better not to attract too much attention?)

Still, Rishe couldn't help but worry.

"Even if this is okay for now, we should secure other disguises before the next outing, shouldn't we?"

"Next outing'?"

"Yes, the next one."

Rishe nodded at Arnold's parroted response.

While Rishe herself wasn't too concerned, the real issue lay with Arnold. His safety as the crown prince was the utmost priority for the country.

As someone who had once been a knight, Rishe wanted to emphasize that.

As Rishe pondered, Arnold, seeming uninterested, spoke up.

"...In that case, dyeing our hair would be the next step. Not just for you, but for me as well."

"You too?"

"While my hair isn't coral-colored as yours, black-haired people are also rare. If your mixed herbal

concoction can temporarily change our hair color, then it should suffice."

"... "

Upon hearing the suggestion, Rishe took a moment before responding.

"That won't work."

"Oh?"

"Herbal dyes are very weak, so they probably won't color black hair."

Black is the strongest color of all. Unlike Rishe's hair, Arnold's hair likely wouldn't take to dyeing.

"Instead of dyeing, it might be possible to lighten the color through bleaching, but... since it can't be

reversed immediately, we'd have to stick with that hair color for a while."

"I don't really mind if my hair color changes."

Upon hearing this, Rishe couldn't help but raise her voice.

"That's not acceptable!"

"!"

Surprisingly, her voice almost came out louder than she intended.

Just as her voice was about to get loud, Rishe quickly lowered it, ensuring no one around found it odd. Still, Arnold in front of her seemed to notice something off.

"Why are you so...?"

"A-anyway!"

Clearing her throat, Rishe hastily tried to cover up her slip.

"I'll think of some method by next time. Shall we go, Your Highness? They're selling grilled butter clams over there!"

"Wait. You're not seriously planning to eat again, are you...?"

Although he seemed exasperated, it appeared that Rishe successfully diverted his attention.

As she quietly sighed with relief, Rishe muttered the reason for rejecting Arnold's suggestion.

(...Because, undoubtedly, that black hair suits His Highness the best...)

Changing that color temporarily with medicine would be just as sinful as covering his eyes with

goggles.

(Anyway, there's always next time. Before the next opportunity arises, I must come up with some

clever plan!)

That was Rishe's determination

*****

After witnessing Kyle's arrival in the country and finding out his accommodations, they were on their way back to the imperial palace through the dimly lit secret passage.

"…But now, I finally understand."

"What do you mean?"

"The reason for today's clandestine outing. When you mentioned 'presenting a ring' at the jewelry store, I was surprised to think that you had taken me to the city for that purpose..."

"..."

"That was a mistake, wasn't it? It was actually to confirm the arrival of the Coyolles Kingdom's carriage with your own eyes."

Thinking it was a clandestine outing for official business, it turned out to be for Rishe’s ring.

...Or so she thought, but it was actually for the sake of state affairs. Knowing that the Crown Prince had a reason to go out into the streets put her at ease.

However, Arnold, who was walking ahead, turned back to Leesha with a smirk.

"I never said that carriage was the main purpose, did I?"

"…Eh!?"

What could that possibly mean?!!

Seeing Rishe's surprised expression, Arnold seemed satisfied. He quickly turned back and started walking again, leaving Rishe to follow behind with reluctant feelings, unable to decipher his true intentions.

[system-of-a-feather]

hi there! i have a question related to birds for a uni project of mine and i was wondering if you could help me out with your extensive bird knowledge?

if rn is not a good time thats fine too of course!

but basically in one of our design courses the task is to design some object to cut any kinds of plants with, so i figured id take some inspiration from nature. And since garden shears look kind of similar to bird beaks i was wondering if there is indeed a connection?

are there birds who use their beaks to actually cut twigs or leaves? and if so, how are there beaks ideally shaped, or do they use other methods.?

regardless, i hope you have a nice day!

..... design? .... birds? i am so interested /joke but also genuine/

I dunno if this is design more so in a sense of art / concept design or design in more of an engineering / crafting sense, but I very very much ALSO like designing and taking inspiration from nature

Either way, to what I can think of, I don't know of any birds that really "cut" twigs or leaves, but that is largely semantics on the common terms I've seen used for best describing certain feeding / foraging / nest building methods in birds

The most related towards shears that you are pointing at probably would be geese species as they largely feed primarily on grasses and plant material and are actually known for seeking out specific parts of the grass that is the most "fresh" and high quality (cant remember the best word used to describe their selection cause its the morning whoops)

Typically they're talked about as "pruning" grass but they're specialized for clipping grass basically and that why they have their infamous "teeth" on their beaks as well as their serrated tongue. I think this page describes a lot of the goose beak adaptions in relation to their diet.

Alternatively, and away from the garden sheer relation but also relevant to the idea of "cutting" plant material, I strongly recommend also considering a number of parrot species.

Parrots are very very very infamous for their amazing ability to basically destroy anything and everything - even the smallest beak parrots can do some terrible damage if left unmonitored and left bored or just in any more

Parrots typically credit this ability to a combination of their hooked and pointed beak that allows for a very strong and pretty pinpointed puncture (similar to birds of prey and their hooked beak that is aimed for puncturing meat; for birds of prey this hook is smaller as they use it for tearing meat and not breaking things like nuts and similar; larger beaks tend to come with the cost of them being clunkier) as well as a very very very powerful bite force that basically allows them to bite off, crush, grab, and break most things which of course comes from their specialization to eat hard nuts which are often protected by tough and hard shells

There is actually a pretty wide variety in parrot beaks as well that don't get addressed as much when you look online afaik but the standard parrot beak has a few notable features

The Maxilla tends to be larger and "overbitten" and the mandible is smaller and sometimes has a notch in the tip (look at cockatiel beaks) which I imagine helps with controlling the food in the mouth. Most notably the thing that gives these beaks that would otherwise be a little pointlessly clunky and an issue for eating with is the very very powerful and muscular tongue which they use to shuffle the food and material around to adjust which parts are facing the bite force of the beak as well as to move the good food stuff from the nuts into their mouth while discarding the shell. Their tongue is more of a finger in their mouth.

Some species also have a like mini notch and/or bumpy and uneven parts (not the right term its early in the morning fight me) in their Maxilla which also helps in getting the "right" angle and bite force on the thing they are trying to tear apart

Specifically related to cutting plant material though, I strongly recommend looking up videos of female peach faced lovebirds and blue-crowned parrots as they are actually specifically known for cutting and precisely cutting off pieces of plant material (or in captivity, paper) for nest material and caching it in their feathers

And additionally for twigs just any big parrot (particularly cockatoos) are GODS at it

Also a good series that features cockatoos fucking up and just destroying shit is Maker's Muse's cockatoo puzzle series

Not related but also

Hope this gives some inspiration ^^ Feel free to ask more or anything that comes to mind cause me X birds

[lovedrunkheadcanons]

Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on AO3

Rated M

It was late May when Hannah received a letter inviting her for tea at Lady Inumaki’s home.

Like the Gojo estate, The Inumaki residence was built in the samurai style with shoji panels and tiered roofing, but more modern than its neighbors, and much smaller. While the house was within walking distance, Hannah was accompanied by Mr. Ijichi, who left her waiting outside the entrance at 3 o’clock. She used the brass ring to knock on the door.

Anxious, she smoothed the front of her blush pink kimono, hand painted with spring blooms and blades of silver mountain grass. A metallic obi with pastel pink, green, and blue flowers held the silk together. Makoto pinned two silver combs into her braided updo. The combination of pink and silver made her feel less intimidating. A safe choice. This visit was important.

After being received by a servant who guided her through the house, Hannah was led inside an ochre walled tearoom. Lady Tomoe Inumaki and her sister, Ms. Takara Shimoda, rose from the floor and bowed. They were both clad in elegant kimonos, hued blue and yellow, and their matching platinum blonde hair was styled in sleek, clean knots. A meal had been prepared on a table. The servant from earlier brought out a fresh pot of tea, but they could all relax. This was not a ceremony.

They kneeled down. Hannah read the calligraphy on a hanging scroll inside the tokonoma; “Five Friends Beneath The Setting Sun” it read. A tortoise and a crane, the symbols of longevity and power, were surrounded by groves of bamboo, yellow narcissus, and plum trees (the three friends of spring) beside a gentle flowing stream. Hovering in the sky above was a bright round sun the color of a grapefruit, all auspicious omens.

“Your husband has been good to my family, Gojo-san,” Tomoe began, bowing her head a second time. “For that you are always welcome in my house.”

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to tell him you said that,” Hannah said. “And please, there’s no need to be so formal. Hannah-san is fine.”

Takara seemed rather taken by this. “So, how are you liking our little country, Hannah?” she asked, forgoing honorifics. “It must be quite different from what you’re accustomed to.”

Hannah gave a timid laugh. “True, it is different, but in a good way. Satoru’s taking me to visit the Tama Botanical Park this weekend. I’m excited to see it.”

“Ah, the Asakawa Experiment Forest, yes, yes, how lovely.” Lady Tomoe lifted a beautiful Noritake teapot, filigreed in gold leaf and magnolias. There was a certain gleam in her maple brown eyes as she poured her guest’s cup. “Speaking of which, are the two of you, you know…getting along?”

Hannah’s smile waned as she brought the steaming cup on her lap. They were now talking about her relationship with her husband. She peered down. Her reflection blended with the freshly poured tea.

They were comfortable with each other, sure. Satoru made his usual rounds; asking her how she was; whether she slept well; what’s her favorite color? (golden poppy) This quickly morphed into a game, one which Hannah thoroughly enjoyed, parroting her own inquiries straight back; when was his next mission; did he have enough Bufferin tablets; what flavor licorice did he like best? (watermelon)

They ate their meals together. They went for morning jogs up the mountains till only the crowns of the pines could be seen and their lungs short of breath. Hannah noticed her biceps bore definition after completing push-ups and she could run for longer distances without getting tired. Satoru had begun instructing her how to kickbox; how to bend her knees and square her shoulders and punch a cushion on his right hand. In the afternoon, they watched movies together and sometimes Satoru would teach her how to play Go, moving black and white stones atop a grid board to try and capture the other’s pawn. But when Tomoe was asking whether she and Satoru were “getting along,” Hannah felt she was really implying something else and chose the less complicated reply.

“I’d say we’re in a better place than where we started.”

Tomoe exhaled at this with mixed relief. “I really worry for these newer couples,” she opined, taking a sip of her tea. “My husband and I grew up together. In the olden days that’s how it used to be. Now when there’s a marriage, the bride and groom are lucky if they get to meet an hour before the wedding.”

“Have any of the other families invited you for a visit, Hannah?” Takara asked, slightly veering off topic. “It’s traditional for the women of each house to welcome new wives into their homes as a sign of respect.”

Hannah’s expression dimmed. She set her teacup on the table. “No, Takara-san,” she said. “You two are the first.”

This came more of a shock to Tomoe than it should have, causing her to miss her mouth and spill tea over her front. She let out a tiny yelp as the hot liquid seeped through her kimono and burned her skin.

“But that can’t be,” she said, frantically dabbing her front with a cloth. “You’re Gojo Satoru’s wife, the lady of a great house. You must’ve received gobs of congratulatory letters following the wedding.”

Hannah bowed her head. “I received many such letters, Inumaki-san, but no invites.”

“Please, are you really that surprised, Tomoe?” Takara huffed, rolling her eyes at her sister.  “After what they did to Kumari last year?”

Hannah tilted her head. “Kumari?”

The younger sister handed Tomoe another napkin and refilled her tea cup. “Chauhan Kumari was one of the first international students ever admitted to Jujutsu High, and the first from India,” she explained. “The prodigy was sought after for her rare ability, a special sealing technique not seen in ages. She studies cursed objects for that very reason.”

Hannah nodded, but was still perplexed. “Then what was the problem, if her technique was so rare?”

“Well, as it so happens, she fell in love with her former classmate,” Tomoe added, no longer fussing with her kimono. “Tensions arose when they married last year.”

Ah, now Hannah better understood the issue and winced. “I'm guessing neither family took it well.”

“No, not quite.” Tomoe shook her head. “Kumari-san’s family welcomed Ichiro with open arms. It was his family, the Kamo’s, who weren’t keen on the idea and stripped him of everything he set to inherit. It didn’t matter that the Chuahan’s had money either. His parents couldn’t stomach the fact their son had married a …” she stopped herself short, appearing guilt stricken.

They waited.

“A foreigner?” Hannah finished for her.

Gaijin.

An outsider.

Both Tomoe and Takara averted their eyes. She had spoken the unvarnished truth so plainly.

“Yes,” Tomoe said, disheartened. “A foreigner.”

For most Japanese, the word “gaijin” was met with indifference. A foreigner was simply that; someone not from Japan. No big deal. But to the jujutsu aristocracy, where bloodlines and ancestral pedigree ruled the roost, it was almost always meant as a form of insult; something less than; a lower being.

It was the worst kept secret. Interview them off the record and you’d find roughly eighty percent of sorcerer families condemned bigotry towards foreigners. “Many of my best friends are foreigners,” they would tout, “I’m offended you’d have me think that.” Cram those same individuals in a room, however, and you’d garner a very different response. Satoru despised this two-facedness more than anything. “Cowards, all of them,” he would seethe, along with some other choice words. Him marrying a girl from England had probably unleashed a silent outcry not felt since his family gained the upper hand after he mastered Hollow Purple. They were outwardly showing their displeasure by pretending to be happy for them; attending the wedding; offering their congratulations with beaming fake smiles, then leaving Hannah out in the cold as they did Kumari the previous year.

For Hannah, this was nothing new. The West had their own biases against outsiders, ones she once believed to be fact; Jujutsu sorcerers were a barbaric lot, drunk on power, and not to be trusted. They were dangerous as they were backwards. Their esoteric religion spat in the face of God and infighting culminated between the families like wildfire. Whether the Western world saw the dueled irony in these accusations, Hannah wasn’t sure. Prejudice was bred from ignorance, not knowledge. When you point a finger, you point three fingers back at yourself. Her time with the Sisters of St. Horatia mellowed her viewpoint some.

“Ichiro took his wife’s last name after the fall out,” Takara spoke, trying not to sound so glum. “They recently moved to Minato City not long ago with their son.”

“I’ll be sure to invite them over for tea next time you visit,” Tomoe chimed. “Tell your husband he’s welcome too.”

Hannah's face brightened at the mention. “Thank you, Tomoe-san. You’re too kind.”

The three women were then interrupted by a short sneeze.

“Ah-cho.”

They twisted their heads to see.

Through a narrow slit in the door, Hannah saw a pair of curious brown eyes flickering back at her. She caught a swoosh of platinum blond, along with oddly painted lips and a small nose, before the door slid shut.

“Ah, that would be my son,” Tomoe chuckled, knowing exactly who it was. “Toge, quit snooping and come introduce yourself to our guest.”

But the door failed to open. A ha-chikui could be heard singing “pir-r-r-r” from a neighboring tree like a taunt. Toge did not make an appearance.

Tomoe and Takara shared dispirited looks. Bowing to Hannah would have been easy enough, but with his vocabulary diminishing more and more, Toge’s confidence was then at an all time low. Forcing him to talk was like pulling teeth. There were only a number of words he could say without setting off an explosion, though his mother feared that if he stopped talking, he would never speak again and so it was better to keep trying. “Hello” and “My. Name. Is. Toge” were still safe to use, if he said them carefully.

“Oh well,” Tomoe sighed, masking her worry with a well rehearsed smile. “Perhaps another day then.”

She took a sip of tea.

Hannah kept staring at the door, but said nothing. Tomoe’s clipped tone hinted the conversation was over. Yes, perhaps another day.

The ladies soon finished their meal and Hannah was taken for a stroll in the garden.

Pic by Damien Douxchamps

Like ducklings, Takara and Hannah followed Tomoe outside. They took turns leaning over the washbasin by the door, dipping the wooden ladle into the water and bringing it to their mouths, swishing it back and forth, then spitting it on the ground before washing their hands. This was a cleansing ritual, akin to visiting a Shinto shrine, or crossing oneself with holy water when entering a church. Gardens were sacred spaces.

The rules were easy: Stay on the path and don’t wander off. Focus your mind. Breathe. Reflect. You are a tiny speck floating aimlessly in this ever expanding universe. You are finite.

Hannah wiped her hands and took in the lush greenery.

Japan had over 200 registered public gardens, with three revered above all others: Kenroku-en (Garden of the Six Sublimities), Kairaku-en (Garden to be Enjoyed Together), and Kōraku-en (Garden for Taking Pleasure Later). Closed from the public, the Inumaki’s backyard was an intimate pond garden, inspired by the Buddhist temple, Renge-ji, dating back to the early Edo Period. A dirt path coiled its way around a modest pond, planted with fork moss, crepe myrtles, and azalea islands. Along this path were sweeping shrouds of black pines, their trunks hunched over as though blown by the wind. A thick fortress of bamboo kept intruders out. 

It had rained heavily that morning, growing hot and humid before the clock struck noon. Walking underneath the shady pines brought reprieve from the midday heat. Taking deliberate steps, the three women walked the route in silence. Breathing. Focusing. Reflecting. Hannah delighted in seeing a tree frog poke its head out of the pond, blink, then dive back down to escape potential danger. Birds chirped and warbled high in the trees: A nuthatch, a bamboo patridge, a brown-eared bulbul. The thick pine needles prevented her from viewing them, but she didn’t mind. She could hear every single one, the mountain wind whistling softly in her ears.

Mr. Ijichi was waiting outside the Inumaki house at 5 pm, as scheduled. Rejuvenated from the walk, Hannah bowed to her two hostesses, thanking them for their generous hospitality and made to leave, but Tomoe held her back.

“Hannah, before you go, there’s something I need to tell you.” She looked apprehensive as she said this. “It’s important.”

“Of course,” Hannah answered and turned to face the lady of the house.

Tomoe gestured for her sister to reconvene inside, which she did without argument, and once the two sorcerer wives were alone, Tomoe motherly clasped Hannah’s hand and said,

“I know it’s not my business to pry, so I won’t say much more, but if there’s one piece of advice I wish somebody had given me when I married Suga, it’s this,” she paused as looked at their clasped hands, “Whatever you and Satoru do, however your feelings are towards each other…don’t wait for children,” she squeezed a little tighter, “The sooner you have children, the less the wolves will have to sink their teeth into.

Hannah looked confused. “The wolves?”

Tomoe’s smile was contrite as it was foreboding.

“Please take what I’ve said to heart.”

Hannah was haunted by Tomoe’s words the rest of the way home, the implications hounding her like a starved predator. It was all she could think about. The wolves? Japan didn’t have wolves. Magical, maybe, but not real ones. They were hunted to extinction during the Meiji Restoration to protect against rabies and canine distemper; one of the many obscure facts she learned in the convents. Tomoe meant it as a metaphor.

“Did you have a nice visit, Hannah-chan?” Mr. Ijichi politely asked as they walked.

“Huh?” Hannah looked up, blinking. “Oh, yes, Ijichi-san, very nice.”

“Good. Lady Inumaki is known for her kindness.” He shows her a white paper bag. “Look, she even gave me anpan buns to take home. They’re still warm. Would you like one?”

Hannah shook her head. She wasn’t hungry.

The deputy director opened the bag and took out a sweet roll, steam fogging up his glasses. “You know, I was watching this documentary the other night,” he said, taking a bite. “About albatrosses.”

“Albatrosses?” Hannah said, feigning interest.

“Yeah, did you know they have the longest wingspan of any bird and can go whole years without landing?”

“No,” she replied. “I had no idea.”

“And also that some species can live past the age of fifty?”

“Fifty? My, that’s a long time.”

In one bite, Mr. Ijichi finished his pastry. “They mate for life too.” he added, licking his fingers. “Fifty years. Guess that makes albatross divorce rates pretty low.”

He laughed lightly at this joke, but Hannah didn't find it funny.

Wolves also mate for life, she thought. She had read so in a book. On average, a wolf’s brain is larger than a domesticated dog. They can perceive sounds up to 40 kilohertz away, twice the distance of a human. Their jaws are powerful enough to saw through bone. They take down bigger prey by hunting in packs and will kill intruders they see as a threat. When hunting, they begin by stalking the prey, separating it from the herd until it’s confused and disoriented, then unleash the finishing blow, carving a hole inside the vulnerable underbelly to devour the prey’s internal organs. Once disemboweled, the carcass is left for scavengers to peck and nibble at till nothing remains. And unlike most social hierarchies within the animal kingdom, it’s the alpha female who makes the decisions; where to go, what to hunt, when to mate.

Is that the threat Tomoe warned her against? The women? Were they the wolves?

“Think of all the chicks they hatch. That’s practically one chick every year.”

Ah, yes, that was the more pressing issue; Children. 

Two months in and Hannah was not pregnant. She and Satoru had not consummated their marriage. She was still a virgin, unsure how to proceed.

At the age when most kids were learning how to ride a bicycle, Hannah was learning how to replace the hydraulic filter on a tractor. When students were simulating volcano eruptions with paper mâché and vinegar, Hannah was studying the chemical processes used for brewing beer. Nuns and religious sisters tended to be tradesmiths and licensed professionals. They were farmers, ranch handlers, and brewmasters. Physicists, engineers, doctors, and social workers, each using their combined talents to help serve the local community.

So contrary to popular belief - Galileo notwithstanding - Hannah was well versed in the sciences. She knew how sex worked, what body part went in which orifice, how sperm met egg, etc. In fact, she knew that if you plopped a male and a female alone together on a deserted island, both with no sexual education whatsoever, they would eventually, given time, figure out how to reproduce. What Hannah did not know, however, were the social cues leading up to the act itself. How could you tell whether a man was interested? What were you supposed to say? What did you do? Hannah was still learning how to search the internet on her mobile phone. The novels she swiped off library shelves in the convents were of no help either, granting little more than a chase kiss on the cheek, or a soft caress. And the book's perspective was almost always taken from the woman, not the man.

“…and that’s when I said, ‘Masamichi-sama, you should try snail oil. It’ll clear those up in a jiffy...”

Mr. Ijichi ceased talking about albatrosses and was now divulging his opinions on skincare. Hannah wasn’t listening.

The real question was, did Satoru want to have sex with her? They were two months into their marriage, around the same time it took for a dating couple to decide whether they wanted to continue pursuing each other, and he had not offered to share his bed once. Neither had she, of course. Did that make it her fault somehow? Was she lacking in some area for him? Too foreign? Too short? Too boring?

No, you’re doing it again, Hannah, she mentally chastised. You’re overthinking things. Marriage isn’t based on attraction, it’s based on consent, yes, consent. He doesn’t have to find you attractive. You just have to do the deed and move on.

And while she thought this, her mind reeled back to the man she’d come to know the last two months; The way his tongue stuck out when he was strategizing how to beat her at Go, or laugh at a corny joke he thought was funny. How he would saunter back behind the kitchen and help Makoto clean the dishes after dinner. How every fleeting glance from his turquoise blue eyes; in the hallway; at the table; up in the mountains where only the tops of the pines could be seen, made her beating heart skip and her stomach do summersaults.

The band of gold on her finger tightened as did the ache in her chest, jealous and longing.

I want it to be me.

Hannah and Mr. Ijichi didn’t have much farther to walk. They reached the limestone gates in fifteen minutes. Hannah waved goodbye to the deputy director and scissored up the path towards the house alone, but rather than taking the shorter route, she made a left for the strolling gardens. More fresh air was what she needed.

Hannah looked out at the lake and watched a lone dragonfly land atop the water and kiss the surface for a quick drink, sunlight hitting its lustrous wings to generate the spectrum of a rainbow. It hummed as it flew off. Willow trees swayed in the eastern wind, their long, slender branches dipping into the waterfront like paper streamers. A bed of blue irises were budding close to the shore. She already missed the sakura blossoms. Cherries would replace them come summer.

Sister Edith often said that to walk in nature was to witness a thousand miracles. “We pass by them everyday, mon chérie,” she would sigh, shaking her head. “But we have grown blind. What will it take for the scales to fall from our eyes?” Hannah didn’t have an answer. She was feeling blind as of late. Blind to her husband’s intentions, blind from doubt. Where were they headed in this marriage?

She had just made it over the second bridge next to the teahouse, past a two-hundred year old maple tree, when suddenly she caught the sound of an animal in distress.

“Mmrooww,” it yowled, followed by the rattling of leaves and an angry hiss. “Mrrooow-row.”

Hannah knew what made that noise. Blimey, that was one unhappy cat.

But where was it?

“Meow.”

Hannah spun herself around, looking east to west, and quickly eyed a fluffy white tail poking out the side of a mulberry bush, making the plant look like a handle-less teapot. She soon discovered what had the kitty so upset.

Looking to rub its whiskers along something rough, the cat got its collar snagged on a prickly branch. It tried pulling away, but the branch wouldn’t relent, as though punishing the kitty for trespassing. Now the poor thing was stuck.

It yowled again.

“Hold on, I’ve got you.” Hannah began sifting through the branches to reach the feline. He was wedged fairly deep. She risked ruining the shrub.

Spooked by the stranger, the cat began thrashing and biting wildly, clawing Hannah’s arm by accident. “Ow — No, if you keep tugging on it like that, you’ll choke.” She managed to hook her finger underneath the collar and slide it off the branch. There.

Realizing he was free, the feline popped out the mulberry bush and shook the dirt and leaves from his long white fur, bell collar jingling. Though unlike normal felines, this kitty didn’t run away and hide, twisting his head around to lick the plant residue off his shoulder.

Hannah got on her knees and held out her hand, making “kissy” noises. The cat stopped licking, raised his bushy tail, and sauntered right up, rubbing his teeth and whiskers along her fingers and purring appreciatively. She laughed.

“You’re welcome.” Hannah began scratching him behind the ears. He had the darlingest blue eyes she’d ever seen on a cat. “Don’t worry about the knick you gave me. I know you didn’t mean it.”

The cat kept on purring, closing his eyes so it appeared he was grinning. Adorable.

As she continued scratching, Hannah gently pulled the inscribed tag on his collar, keeping it still for her to read:

幽霊

She smiled.

“Ghost, is it?” she said. “Well, your owner has a sense of humor, I’ll give them that.”

Ghost’s whiskers twitched at the sound of his given name and yawned.

There was no phone or vaccination number on the collar from what Hannah could tell, though obviously the cat belonged to someone. It’s possible he had a microchip. Only one way to find out.

“You’re coming with me.”

Ghost gave no objection to being held by his rescuer and tucked his paws inwards so he could curl into a ball, purring, trilling, tail swishing. This human was nice and warm and gave good pets. He was scared, but not anymore. Time to take a nap.

The cat dozed contentedly in Hannah’s kimono wrapped arms the rest of the walk home, his fur so flocculent it looked as though she were cradling a big wad of cotton. Whoever owned the fella groomed him well. He was clearly loved. Hopefully, Makoto wouldn’t be mad at the pet dander accumulating on her kimono.

It wasn’t until Hannah slipped off her sandals and entered the main hallway when she heard they had visitors. Loud visitors.

“Idiot, how many times do I have to say it? It’s senpai. Utahime-senpai. Show your seniors some respect and say it properly.”

Satoru chuckled.

“Sorry. No can do, U-tah-i-me,” he said, articulating each syllable in her name. “My house, my rules.”

Utahime wasn’t taking it.

“My god, you’re such a piece of shit, Satoru. That innocent act isn’t fooling anyone. We know he’s here already, so hand him over and we’ll be on our way.”

Satoru was so confused by this, he broke into actual laughter. “First off, your interrogation skills need work. Second, why the hell would I steal a cat? I don’t even like cats.”

A third voice disrupted their arguing.

“Joking aside, we could really use your help, Satoru,” said the third. “Normally I wouldn’t bring him to the lab, but I hate leaving him alone in the apartment while I‘m gone,” a winded sigh, “Guess it’s my fault he escaped.”

Utahime offered her friend support. “No, it’s not your fault, Shoko. I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually. We just have to keep looking.”

Now awake from his nap, Ghost’s ears twitched upon hearing the third person, Shoko, speak and sniffed the air. Uh oh. A sick empty feeling brewed in the pit of Hannah’s stomach. If indeed Ghost was their missing feline, which it’d be safe to assume he was by that point, then wouldn’t they insinuate her as the thief? She had the kitty in her hands for Pete’s sake.

Her budding nerves threatened to capsize her.

The wall partition separating the reception room from the main hallway was latticed entirely in washi paper. Had it not been for the colorful folded screens, painted in gold and dazzling peacocks, her silhouette would’ve been visible from the other side, but that wasn't the problem. Designed to only go one way, the hall had no means of escape. Should she walk back, the bamboo matting would alert the others of her presence and she’d be ousted. It was thanks to Utahime’s shouting that Hannah managed to make it this far.

“Well, if you see him roaming around, give me a call, alright?”

Foot-falls shuffled in Hannah’s direction.

Wait, no, no, no, no, no, no.

However, Ghost was done messing around. These humans were noisy, and his rescuer was squeezing him too tight. He started to fidget, growing restless and more agitated the tighter she squeezed. “Mrroow,” he growled. Hannah held onto him as best she could, but when his hind claws began digging underneath the kimono silk and pulling on her obi cord, she knew she’d lost. Like a wet bar of soap, the cat slipped out of her hands and dashed for his owner.  

Her cover was blown.

“I KNEW IT!!!” shouted Utahime, watching the cat appear out of the corner and rub against Shoko’s legs. She turned sharply around to jeer at her prime suspect. “I knew you were lying, you slimy haired weasel. Thought you could pull a fast one on us, did ya? Did ya?”

Satoru rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you, it wasn’t me.”

Happy to be reunited, Shoko picked her cat off the floor and stroked his fur. “Well, if it wasn’t you, how did he get in here?”

“It was me.”

All three sorcerers affixed their eyes upon the hallway, where a flustered Gojo Hannah emerged out the corner, hair and kimono disheveled. “I found him while in the garden.”

“Hehe, see, told you,” Satoru snickered. He knew his wife was standing there the whole time, trying to wrangle the pesky feline. He’d been tempted to alert the others, but thought it better to let the chips fall where they may. What were the odds she’d actually find Shoko’s missing cat and bring the fleabag home? She was always full of surprises. It left him wondering when they would begin discussing the visions.

In the meantime, Hannah was fiddling with the decorative knot on her obijime, which was close to coming undone.

“Here, let me help with that.”

Now able to match a face to the voice, the third person, Shoko, plopped Ghost back on the floor and walked behind Hannah to fix the knot. While not attired in her usual lab coat and heels, she still looked professional in a turtleneck and jeans. Her long chocolate brown hair was swooped in a lazy twist, showing the beauty mark under her eye. Hannah recognized the woman immediately.

“I know you,” she gaped. “You’re the one who handed me the water bottle.”

“Ah, so you remember,” cheered Shoko. “Good to know I can leave a lasting impression.”

“Hold it, you two met already?” both Satoru and Utahime asked in unison. “Since when?”

“I wouldn’t say we met,” answered Shoko, giving Hannah a wink. “More like crossed paths.”

“Uh, yeah. Crossed paths. Sure.” Hannah wanted to hide herself. A lot more happened between them than “crossing paths.” She had almost been caught hurrying the growth of a rose shrub.

Shoko’s companion, Utahime, pivoted back to Satoru, dressed down in a pair of denim shorts and a graphic tee. Her violet hair stuck out at the end of her baseball cap in a high ponytail. She placed both hands on her hips expectantly.

“Well?”

Six Eyes narrowed. “Well, what?”

“Aren't you going to introduce us?”

“Why do I have to introduce you?” He pointed his thumb. “She’s standing right there.”

Utahime pinched the bridge of her nose and drew in a sharp breath. “Because, doofus, it’s the polite thing to do, and you’re her husband. Why do men lack common sense when it comes to this stuff?”

“Fine.” Satoru walked behind his two comrades. “Shoko, Utahime,” he said, presenting with both hands, “This is Hannah.”

Hannah bowed. “Hello,” she said shyly, flattening her hair. “Please to meet you.”

In three long steps, Satoru backpedaled behind his wife.

He rested both hands on her shoulders.

Hannah couldn’t think of anything. Half the oxygen instantly vanished from the room as her heart did a double take. She smelled coffee and incense. His sweet breath tickled her ears, mouth hovering just inches above her nape. If she turned her head, their lips would surely touch. She shuddered.

“Hannah, these two are my colleagues,” he said, voice so smooth it made her want to melt. “Shoko is the doctor and top researcher on campus. And Utahime is — ”

Utahime seized Hannah by the wrist and dragged her from her husband’s arms, seeking refuge in the corner.

“Hi,mynameisUtahime.IteachattheKyotoschool. Okay, so I have to know,” she whispered.

Lost in a daze, Hannah couldn’t tell whether this person had spoken in tongues or crafted her own language. Speed talkers were difficult to translate.

Um…about what?” she asked, unsure why they were whispering. Now that they were close, the young wife could see the prominent scar slashed across the woman’s cheek and nose.

“Who else?” Utahime said. “That mop-headed manchild you married. Now tell me, does he leave his dirty laundry piled everywhere? Eat like a slob? Talk you half to death? I bet he’s unbearable to live with. He never shuts up.”

“I can still hear, you know,” Satoru commented from the sidelines.  

“So, is he?” Utahime persisted, ignoring him. “I understand if you don’t wanna say it out loud. I can’t stand him either.”

“Actually,” Hannah parted from Utahime and turned around to face her spouse, “Satoru has made life relatively easy for me. He’s been very generous,” she showed him a gentle smile. “More than I deserve, really.”

The pause was deafening.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody moved.

Unprepared for having received such a glowing compliment, Satoru felt the tips of his ears burning. He looked to the floor. That smile wasn’t fake. She meant every word. It made him wish they were true. Hannah deserved a lot more than he could give. She deserved the world, no, the universe.

He just recently learned about her love for gardening, both from the memories and the morning jogs they embarked together. Practically every tree, wild-flower, weed, and leaf they ran past, she could name without fail, teaching him the binomial nomenclature of each while relaying their medicinal properties. He had comprised a mental list:

Isha-koroshi (Bugleweed) / Ajuga decumbens: Perennial herb. Grows close to the ground. Spatula shaped leaves with small dark purple flowers. Boiling leaves helps burns and cuts. Drinking  decoction of seeds relieves stomach aches and gastrointestinal issues. Sprouts April to June.

Momi (Fir Tree) / Abies firma: Coniferous family. Oil can be extracted by grinding needles, wood, and bark. Used to treat symptoms relating to the common cold. Anti-inflammatory. (Same for pine, juniper, yew, and cypress).

Maruba-Utsugi (Deutzia) / Deutzia scabra: Deciduous shrub. Related to hydrangea family. White starlike blossoms. Bloom in May. Round leaves are edible when young. Eat as last resort.

The list went on.

He wished he had taken a snapshot of her face yesterday when he revealed they were adding an English garden on the estate; Pure. Gold. He might as well have sprouted angel wings and a halo. “You mean it?” she said in faint disbelief. “You’re giving me my own…?”

He nodded his head yes.

She wept like a baby, thanking him profusely over and over again. Almost June, they were too far in the spring to grow anything, so they planned to visit some local nurseries and gather ideas for October (the optimal planting time). Makoto thought it would be a good bonding experience.

“Hmmm.” Utahime cynically leaned over Hannah and arched her brow. “You sure he hasn’t misbehaved?”  

Hannah innocently raised her hands. “No, honest. Satoru’s been wonderful.”

Utahime held her chin, ruminating this quandary. “Generous” and “wonderful” weren’t words she would use to describe Satoru, more like “self-centered” and “egotistical,” but realizing Hannah wasn’t going to correct this mistake, she leaned away and sighed. “Well, alright. But if he starts any crap, you let me know, okay?”

“Hey, I’m not a delinquent,” Satoru whined, tired of her trash talking.

“But you act like one, so zip it,” Utahime spat and tapped Hannah’s arm. “Anyway, I’m serious. Let. Me. Know,” she handed her a piece of paper. “Here’s my number.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, taking the paper. “Thanks.”

Shoko bent down to retrieve her cat.

“On that cheery note, I think we’ll make like a banana and split. You ready, Utahime?”

Utahime checked her phone. “Oh, shoot. I didn’t realize it’s been that long.”

“Yeah, I think you’ve outstayed your welcome,” Satoru deadpanned. “Get lost.”

Utahime stuck her tongue at the Six Eyes wielder, who wiggled his own tongue right back. She was about to say more, but Shoko interrupted.

“Come along, Utahime. Let’s give the couple back their privacy.” She tugged on her friend’s collar, carrying Ghost under her arm. “See you around, Satoru. And it was nice officially meeting you, Hannah. Thanks for finding my cat.”

“Yeah, bye, Hannah,” Utahime added, waving goodbye. “We’ll go out for drinks sometime.”

“Wait, no goodbye hug for me, Hime-chan?” Satoru pouted, pretending to shed a tear. “I’m hurt.”

“I’d rather swallow iodine, you freak,” the Kyoto teacher snapped. “Call me that again and see what hap — ”

“Bye, bye, everyone,” Shoko finished, shoving her friend towards the door.

“Bye.” Hannah returned a friendly wave. “Janae.”

The doctor and teacher made their quick getaway, missing kitty in toe.

Hannah turned to her husband.

“Well, they seemed…nice.”

Satoru dropped the facade. “Not how I would put it.” Glad they were gone, he tucked his hands in his pockets and headed for the living room. “I’m bored, let’s go watch a movie. Mission Impossible 2 is next, I think.”

Hannah trotted softly beside him.  

“No, we’re on the third installment now, remember? Ethan managed to dodge Ambrose’s bullet and throw Luther the cure just in time so he could jab it into Nyah and prevent an outbreak.”

“Ah, that’s right, that’s right,” he chuckled, pointing a finger. “Keeping me on my toes, I see.”

“Of course,” Hannah giggled. “If I don’t, who will?”

Satoru nudged his wife with his elbow and blew her a raspberry. “If I don’t, who will?” he mocked.“My name’s Hannah and I own the place, rah, rah, rah.”

She choked on a giggle and tried shooing him away, which only prompted more ribbing.

Don’t ask her about tomorrow, the uncertainties, the what-ifs. Those she could fret about some other day. Right then, walking down that corridor, the world’s strongest sorcerer smiling at her with twinkling blue eyes, Hannah knew everything would be alright. She didn’t know how she knew this, but she did. Whatever the danger, they would rise up to meet it. Together.

Let the wolves come.

Chapter Contents

[moku-youbi]

TUA Daemons

I was really torn on some of these, ngl, so some have a secondary animal I considered. I'd love to hear any thoughts on different daemons or names for them!

Luther's daemon is a Golden Retriever called Diana:

Diego's daemon is a Poplar Hawk Moth called Carina (also considered a rat, bat, and a few other insects):

Allison's daemon is a Secretary Bird called Nkosana (prince):

(considered the Blue Crowned Pigeon and Mandarin Chicken, as both are gorgeous, but I love that the Secretary Bird is not only fabulous, but also a deadly bird of prey)

Klaus’ daemon is a snake (formosa odd-scaled snake, rainbow boa, scaleless coral snake, etc) called Sisyphus “Sis” or Nyx or Athanasius (Klaus' daemon is a same-sex daemon, and, having been severed from him the first time Klaus died, can go far distances from him, and has never settled. It still tends to stay in snake form, hanging around his neck. It changes breeds/colours as it suits him):

Five’s daemon never settled, as being stuck alone in the apocalypse fucked with the whole reaching emotional maturity. Prior to going into the apocalypse she changed shape constantly, but preferred shapes like crow, octopus, rat, chimpanzee, parrot, etc. Since returning she tends to stay in cat form unless she needs to change for some reason. Something happened to them during their time at the Commission that causes her to either hide away from Five, or change into something small enough to fit in his pockets, like a chinchilla, and be unseen. Five never named her, and said they can call her Five, but his siblings rejected that, and call her Cúig, or Five in their own languages:

Ben’s daemon tended to prefer to be an owl, tortoise, horse, deer (if settled before death, then tortoise or deer) called Josephine “Jo” (named after his favourite literary character at the time, from Little Women):

Viktor’s daemon is a hedgehog called Vasilisa (Named after the Russian version of Cinderella. Viktor had a rare--apparently--same sex daemon as well, because Vasilisa is female, though this hinted at the fact that he was trans. The reasons he and Klaus have same sex daemons is somewhat related, but ultimately different):

Please share you thoughts. I'd really love to know how others headcanon it. I'm pretty married to some of these for my fic, but others I'm happy to hear more about.

[books-of-the-great-leviathan]

Chapter 2- Zuzana

***

"Answer me this, Dima," Zuzana said, snapping shut her spyglass. "How do you make a ship disappear?"

She looked over her shoulder at Dima, her first mate- a fresh-faced young man, brown hair salt-rumpled and eyes yet unpossessed of the squint lines hers had, the ones he'd inevitably bear after serving some three decades at sea.

The bitter wind had chapped his cheekbones red. He grinned. "Sounds like a good riddle, Captain. How do you make a ship disappear? Well, madam, first you find yourself the world's biggest corkscrew-"

"Someday someone'll get sick of you turning everything you hear into a joke and parroting it out like some courtly lady's trained bird."

"-And then if you know where to stick it-"

"You heard that one in a brothel, didn't you? I'll have you know my ship's no place for such iniquity."

Dima feigned a hurt expression. "Hey, I'm just trying to lighten the mood, keep your mind off doom and gloom and foul portents. Give me a little credit."

"I give you a little credit, next thing I know my ship's taking on water and I'm drowning in fish guts." Zuzana began along the gunwale, staring out to sea, her eyes set narrow. The wind off the waves stirred her gray-streaked dark hair and ruffled the thick bear fur mantle arrayed around her neck, dusting it, like everything else, in a fine, glimmering layer of ice crystals.

The whole of her ship, the Vansi, looked like a ghost vessel from some cradle song her mother might have sung to her as a child, its rigging and gunwales remade in glittering ice, the long teeth of icicles hanging from the high crow's nest. The blue and white Vodyani flag hung sluggish from its moorings, weighted down by frost. Even the sky seemed frozen, summer stars turned hard and cold in their settings. Up this far north, east of Vodyenai and deep in the treacherous dark waters of the Ork Roads, summer only meant less cold, not freedom from it.

Tonight, though, something was different.

Something was wrong.

Zuzana was Captain Zuzana Dobrevna of the Vodyani naval ship Vansi. They were a week out from Vodyenai's frozen shores and smoky harbors, the air ever black with the fumes of ore smoke. Vodyenai was one of Buyan's colony islands, prized for its deep mines and forests of petrified wood, trees standing like pale soldiers through the twilit gloom.

It was also the last significant landmass before the Inner Sea became the Outer, and thus a valuable port city for Buyan's naval exploits. The Vansi's mission was simple: a herring trawler hadn't come back to port with its payload, and it was her job to find it, and if the crew was still alive and squandering their haul on wine, women, and merriment, enact justice for the good of the Buyani crown.

It was filthy work most days, hunting desperate men made cowards by poverty, feeble revolutionaries thinking they could stick it in the collective Buyani eye, all of them captured or put down by Zuzana and her crew, and the many other ships like her. Still, she always told herself, on her second or fifth cup of korok, it was a better living than most.

The swells beyond the reach of the running lights were huge as hills, touched with deep, frigid green where the lanternlight struck them. Otherwise the water was dark as pig iron. The Vansi pitched from side to side on the swells, but Zuzana's stride was steady as she walked her ship's length, scanning the waves.

This was the last known location of the herring trawlers they'd been tracking the past few days; Zuzana had sighted them on the horizon, their smoke, the ork-oil streaks they left behind on the waves, and tasted the bitter tang of surety on her tongue. They should be here. They should be right here.

But they weren't.

"Maybe they saw us, too," Dima supplied behind her. "Scuttled their ship and made off with all the fish they could carry."

"A couple lifeboats' worth of herring isn't worth the trouble of scuttling a trawler," Zuzana muttered. She took up her spyglass again and snapped it open, then shook her head. "I don't like it, Dima."

"What?"

"The wind. When you've tasted as much of it as I have, you get to know it. Its moods. Its intricacies. This is a strange one, and no mistake."

"Maybe Sagarozk took the ship," Dima said, an uncharacteristic note of unease in his voice. He reached under his mantle and shirt collar to unhook a long, knotted strand of red twine from round his neck. On its end hung a charm carved from orktooth, clustered amidst chunks of raw pyrite and the needle fangs of some deep-sea fish. It was in the form of a curled beast, teeth bared, flanks crudely striped. "Maybe he opened his mouth and gulped it straight down."

"Your tiger god didn't eat the trawler," Zuzana said flatly.

He shrugged. "You don't know that."

Zuzana didn't hold much stock with gods- she'd heard enough men pray to them without response to form her own opinions on the matter. Dima had a point, though. If a god was about, it wouldn't be the sort to pass out mercy like party favors. It would be a thing like the waves, like the snow, like the stars overhead, cold and hungry and no friend to humanity.

"Captain Dobrevna!"

The call came from on high, up in the crow's nest. Zuzana looked up to where a red storm lantern swung from the upper rigging, the night watchman's shape cut out against the stars. "Past the swell! It's coming!"

"The trawler?" Zuzana called back, turning her attention back to the waves with an unsettling sting of relief. It came too soon. It wasn't the trawler.

The night was a dark one, moons hidden behind the low-hanging clouds, but the starlight provided plenty illumination now. The waves fell, and across the swells, across the whole of the dark sea, spread a river of glistening shapes. Small ones, mostly, bobbing on the water, but larger ones, too, platefish and sailfish, ooshka and rays and the tentacles of squid and cuttlefish tangled like seaweed, the silver streaks of entire herring runs floating belly-up to the stars. It spread endless, countless, on and on and on, a pathway to the horizon. An entire ocean of dead fish.

The smell hit her on the next slap of ice wind. Her eyes watered, throat pulling tight. She pressed her sleeve to her numb face, squinting against the carnal reek.

"What in all Hells is this?" she muttered.

Dima's face was pale. "I...I don't know, Captain..."

"Well? Get me some light."

He turned to shout the order. The running lights brightened, beaming out across the mass, even as the Vansi's bow struck its edge. Shapes thudded and split against the hull as the ship cleaved into the mass. Soon the spray churned oily and red, thick with gore, like the aftermath of an ork-butchery.

"Stop the ship," Zuzana called. "Heave to!"

Her crew obeyed. The sails groaned, filling with wind, and the Vansi swung round, carnage knocking at its hull as it slowed to a standstill on the waves.

Shouts rippled across the deck, but Zuzana was silent. She paced to the bow and looked again through her spyglass, all the way to the horizon, from where the current would have swept this river of dead things. The clouds seemed thicker there, denser and darker.

Pale radiance illuminated them from the inside: a single spear of lightning.

"Captain," Dima said.

Zuzana looked round again in time to see two of her crew hauling a net over the gunwale. Wet shapes slithered across the deck: dead fish. Zuzana crossed to them and knelt over the glistening heap. She drew her knife from her boot and stabbed one of the fish through the gills, then lifted it into the lamplight.

Veins glittered across its scales, prismatic as oil on water, one dead eye turned into a sphere of crystal big as her thumbnail. It was swollen, tumorous, splitting into the surrounding flesh.

A chill coursed through Zuzana's nerves.

The rest were the same, infected with crystal. "Looks like whaleglass," whispered another crewman, an old Buyani with miner's tattoos and fading red hair. He took off his fur cap and twisted it between his hands. "The crystallized blood of the Great Leviathan itself-"

"It's not whaleglass." Zuzana flicked the fish off her knife. "I don't know what this is. Some sickness in the water. We're well close enough to the Great Blue for all manner of horrors to creep in on the currents."

"We shouldn't be here," Dima said. He turned his tiger charm in his fingers, over and over, worrying at it like prayer beads. "Whatever happened to the trawler-"

"Are you suggesting we go back empty-handed? Scared off by a run of diseased fish?" Zuzana straightened, staring him down. "I'd rather have my feet up by a fire with a jar of sugared cherries, too, but that's no bloody excuse."

She knew what her first mate meant, though, and couldn't help but agree with him. First the trawler's disappearance, traceless, sudden, and now this: this desert of carnage, this dying on such a scale, like the sea had poisoned itself. A chill traced her spine as wind swept the deck, tugging the frozen flag high overhead.

Far out, where she'd seen the lightning before:

Clouds, massing. Black and churning.

Lightning came again, and struck the sea, splintering shards of silver across the river of dead fish. Zuzana strode to the bow, her crew at her back, and stared out toward the storm. Her heart pounded in her throat.

"You think it's coming our way, Captain?" Dima asked.

As if in answer, wind came: a blast of it, and with it, scents. Lightning sear, the heat of the vaporized ocean, salt and metal and the raw, hot tang of blood. A high, shrieking, winnowing wind, slicing past Zuzana's face like blades.

"That's no storm," said the old Buyani. "That's old magic. That's whale-stuff, that is. That's the Great Leviathan itself, the bringer of life and death, the destroyer, come to end us all!"

He lapsed into his mother tongue, a babbling stream of prayers. Zuzana rounded on him. Her heart pulsed behind her breastbone, but she fought to keep her face a hard mask.

"What are you?" she demanded. "A child? Stop your mewling before I send you to wait out the storm in the bilge."

He didn't obey, his prayers uninterrupted. Zuzana grit her teeth and gave the old man a hard crack across the jaw; he dropped with a yelp, but mercifully shut up.

Zuzana strode forward, fist stinging, facing down her crew. "This is no time for panic," she called. She looked from face to face. "For any of you, hear me? Get to your posts. Ready the sails for haste. We can outrun a paltry storm-"

The sea groaned, heaving upward toward stars burning like fires in the black. Zuzana grabbed onto the railing as the Vansi was lifted, tilting, bow flung upward on a single, massive swell. The water glassed. Waves dashed bloody froth across the deck; a curtain of sleet struck, a drenching torrent that soaked Zuzana to the bone in an instant. Shouts rang across the ship: crewmen rushing to lines, orders flying like gulls.

Zuzana was frozen. Every nerve screamed at her to run, but she didn't move. All she could do was stare.

The storm was coming toward them. Not slowly, blown on its course, but fast, too fast, and before its swirling, lightning-cracked winds, the sea rose, too. Swells. Waves. Whitecaps, spume, the entire ocean cleaved apart by-

By-

"Is that an island?" Dima cried through the sleet. It looked like one, like the crest of a mountain range arching from the deep, as if pulled from the seabed by some god in one of Dima's cradle songs. Zuzana stared, and the realization snapped in, and the panic roared over her, sudden as a breaking wave.

It was no island. It was a back: the long, curving ridge of a spine arrayed with spikes, huge as a ship, huge as a landmass, parting the waves, coming for them.

The lightning crackled from spike to spike, vast juts of dark bone. Beneath the water, illuminated from within by an unearthly blue radiance, was a form. A creature. It swam, pushing itself along with great, clawed forelimbs, its body long and serpentine. Its head lifted through the storm. Zuzana couldn't focus on its shape. It seemed to shift moment by moment, as if it was constantly in some weird state of warp. All she could see was darkness and lightning, flashes of talons and jagged bone and glistening, scarred black hide.

Muscles rippled beneath vast, gaping blowholes, and jaws parted, opening, impossible, impossible, it could swallow them whole, it could pluck the moons from the sky and crush them in those rows upon rows of teeth.

It roared. The howl of the storm, the shriek of the ocean turned to steam, the boom of thunder, huge as the world. White fractured Zuzana's vision. She felt blood burst from her nose, raw and rich on her tongue.

"Go!" she cried, rushing for the ship's wheel and seizing it in both hands. The currents were strong, but she set all her strength to it and felt it move. "Get us the hell away from that thing!"

The Vansi lunged, sails straining, great arcs of white against the sky. The stars were too bright, too close; they seemed to fall and touch the stormy ocean, filling it with blue light. Sleet pounded the deck, warm as summer rain. The displaced sea swelled again, waves rising taller than the Vansi, so it seemed to crest and swoop along valleys of phosphorescent blue glass.

Lightning split the sky, and Zuzana again glimpsed the monster, filling the sea, filling the sky, coils and claws and ancient wounds.

Surrounding them.

"No," she breathed, terror and wonder, her vision splintering with tears.

This couldn't be the Great Leviathan.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Nothing was supposed to be this way.

The monster unfurled, heaving its body from the ocean. Seawater sluiced from it in sheets, raining across the deck. Almost lazily, it batted out with one foreclaw, a solid wall of flesh and starlit water. Impact jarred the entire ship, like a bolt cannon had gone off belowdecks. Zuzana heard sail tear, heard wood split; waves hammered them, glimmering blue, turning the tarred wood and sailcloth to starlight. The rigging began to sway and collapse, bearing down on the deck. Sodden ropes thudded heavy as weights, barely missing her. She looked to Dima, and he stared back, clutching a line, blood streaming from the cut on his forehead.

"Captain!" he cried. "Out of the way!"

Too late.

Something struck her, hard: part of the Vansi's mast, snapped like a twig. She slammed sideways against the gunwale. Ribs crunched. She cried out, but her voice was lost in the scream of the winds, the howl and bellow of the monster as it tore them apart.

Through the pain, through the sound of her ship breaking and her crew dying around her, Zuzana lifted her head.

She saw it, blurred by the churning winds, a vast, roiling shape, its eyes blazing blue and gold through the storm.

She knew, now. Knew there were no charms, no prayers, no holy words to hold in the night. There was only one truth, bright as staring into the sun.

She was wrong. This was a god.

At least we know what happened to the trawler, Zuzana thought as the monster's jaws descended to shear the ship in half.

[lord-allo]

Blaukrönchen oder Blaukronenpapageichen | Blue-crowned hanging parrot

Loriculus galgulus

[Aquarium Wilhelmshaven, 02.09.2024]

[activate-shadow-of-the-window]

Hermittober Day 12: Fool

-

Impulse was just not having it this month.

He’d been working for months to get the ancient seeds alive and growing, rode hard for days to get them to his ally, and got surprised at one in the morning by a bird with the fact he had been robbed and that Cub’s medical condition was going to hell in a hand-basket unless they found a trio of unknown criminals who had also inflicted that medical condition onto Keralis. And now he was in Iceberg Metropolis after using Etho’s honestly nonsense mode of transport that probably broke several treaties and his fellow rulers were babbling about cross-civilization conspiracies to put the Blue Ice Crown on the head of anyone from Iskall to Ren.

“I personally think that Ren is the most likely culprit, since he has a well-documented grudge against Iceb—“

“Uh, guys?”

Hypno paid him no heed. “Like I was saying, there’s lots of reasons why Ren is the likely perpetrator—“

“Guys?”

“And of course there’s his known tendency to research esoteric things li—“

Impulse sighed and muttered under his breath, “Fine. It’s fine. I’ll just do this.”

He reached his arms up as if to stretch, and, in one smooth movement, drew his great cavalry sword and crossbow both out from their holsters before firing a bolt and cutting it down from midair. The shattered wood and metal arrowhead clattered to the concrete floor, making everyone, save the incapacitated Keralis, flinch.

Impulse looked everyone dead in the eyes as he spoke. “I would apologize for having done that if each of you haven’t ignored me. Except for you, Keralis. With the whole, uh… never mind. The point is that I don’t suffer fools gladly, and you are all acting like fools right now. Ren? Really, Hypno? Would he actually do what you think he’s done without telegraphing it so obviously that we’d all know what would go down?”

The bat-folk opened his mouth as to speak, before pausing and speaking again. “…honestly? You’re right, Impulse. We were being fools. What’s your idea as to who is doing all of this?”

“No clue as to their identity, but I may know where they’re hanging out. You called this situation the ‘Lumbar Case’, right, Iskall?”

The wolf nodded. “Yes. We have intercepted communications between the two original suspects and the one we suspect fired the ranged attacks that indicate that they have been active in the Dragon’s Spine, specifically around the base of the so-called Vertebrae Mountains.”

“Well, I happen to have a dear friend that is rather familiar with the Lumbar area. And she just so happens to be within reach of Etho’s, uh. Preferred mode of transport.”

The canid cocked his ear at his name. “Oh? East or west?”

“West. West and wet.”

He smiled beneath his mask. “Ah. The Basalt King’s realm?”

“Hit the nail on the head.”

Etho straightened from his leaning position on the wall, straightened his collar, and clapped once. “Well then, fellow investigators, professional and not. Looks like we’re going to the Tangle. You’re gonna get to see your brother, Grian.”

The parrot groaned. “Oh, no. Martyn’s gonna be so insufferable. Tango’s rubbing off on him in the worst way possible.”

[agapornithinae]

Blue-crowned hanging parrot ~ Loriculus galgulus

The blue-crowned hanging parrot is a mainly green parrot that is rather small, only reaching 13cm in length. It is found in the lowland forests of southern Burma and Thailand, Malaya, Singapore, and Indonesia.

The males and females of the species do differ in appearance. Typically, the males’ blue crown is much larger and more vibrant in colour and their red throat rarely occurs in the females. The females also lac the yellow lower back that the males posses. 

Like others in the Loriculus genus, the blue-crowned hanging parrot also has the ability to sleep inverted, and is one of the only species of bird that can do so.

[honoratacarnage]

Hey! I've learned a lot of super cool things about the Dodo bird! Like, how wrong 99% of the modern depictions of this funky little pigeon!

How do i know that? Well, in 1625, the talented Ustad Mansur, official court artist of the Mongol Empire, painted a Mughal (book illustration) of some native Asian birds:

The artist, Ustad Mansur, was super famous for being extremely realistic in his paintings, like, look how the 2 upper birds are in real life:

IT'S PERFECT. The colors, the blending, everything! So if the modern birds in the painting are almost picture perfect, the Dodo also is!!!

Also! In 2016 a group of students in the Stony Brook University did a CT scan on a Dodo skull and concluded that it was as smart as a modern pigeon, this means that the Dodos could read, do basic math, and recognize art! Imagine having a service dodo!

Anyways, I hope you liked my little rant about some extinct pigeons!

[herpsandbirds]

Blue Crown Hanging Parrot (Loriculus galgulus), male, family Psittaculidae, order Psittaciformes, Singapore

photograph by Chew Thong Khoo