#get grackled idiot

[dragoncarrion]

Yesterday when i went to the urban forest area, i heard a five year old child calling a grackle a "crow". Worry not!! for i obliterated her with my mind via vaporizing each of her cells to prevent such misinformation to spread. That should teach her and everyone else to not make that same mistake in my range of hearing

[adhd-coyote]

The next batch of ocs to be formally introduced!! It's Corries this time!! I limited myself to just ten, though I've got about 20 Corries total (the rest'll be introduced gradually later)

@whiskygoldwings @grackle-draws @thivell (if anyone else would like to be tagged for future ones just lemme know :3)

Blush

Any pronouns

Named after their silver tongue and how easily he makes others turn red as Corrie paint

Soft, sultry, and oh-so-sweet. But can and will play rough, if you ask nicely ;3

Firefly

She/Her

Medic

The best big sister

Sweetest person you'll ever meet. Gives the best hugs and forehead kisses, and always knows just what to say to soothe a distressed vod.

A calm, steady presence who seems to never get stressed or overwhelmed. She does, but she's very good at hiding it and saving any crying sessions for when she's alone.

Mouse

He/Him

Shy, quiet baby

Hates having his helmet off outside Corrie HQ- he panics if his hair is visible

Loves pancakes

Doesn't like loud noises

An amazing pilot, but doesn't get to fly since he's stuck on Coruscant

Trot

He/Him

Fox's adopted ad and office assistant

Clever as his buir, and just as much of a little shit, though his tooka eyes are so good you’d never guess

Was named by Thorn, because 1) He's always trotting after Fox and 2) Foxtrot- it's a pun

Dating Spider from the 404th (Krell's battalion- to be introduced later)

Dahvi

He/Him

Married to Kas

Has a bite to match his bark and his bark is very loud

Will fight anyone that provokes him; Kas has to hold him back sometimes

Kas

He/Him

Married to Dahvi

A hunter. He loves a good chase

Blunt and unafraid to talk shit, but knows when it’s best to keep his mouth shut

If needed, will make himself a target to take the focus away from a vod

Sparks

He/Him

Skilled with tech and slicing

An idiot, but somehow also a genius

Fidgety and talkative

Rabbit

They/He (Gender fluctuates between masc and enby)

Bouncy and excitable, when they aren't a bundle of anxiety

Loves caff

Hair is dyed

Chatterbox

He/Him

Will not. Stop. Talking.

This man can chatter for two hours straight about absolutely nothing

Talks with his hands

Not a trained medic but decent at field medicine

Shortstack

He/Him

A bit shorter than all of his vode

Ready to throw down at all times, likes to go for the knees

Fights dirty

Feel free to send in any questions, I'm always happy to answer asks!!

I now have an oc masterlist!

[the-typing-dragon]

get grackled idiots.

[thesillyguyy]

Is it me, or are long text posts just better when the text is shrunk? It's just very pleasing to me for some reason, and I really really like it. Makes me feel calm. I'm trying to recreate that, but uh. I'm running out of things to say. So I'm gonna tell yall some stories. But ✨️aesthetially✨️

First story - so I like playing minecraft. And a while ago I was playing this one survival world(I think it's deleted now but I'm not sure). I'm just wandering a snowy biome and trying to get out of it because I fucking HATE snowy biomes. So I eventually come across this ravine thing? It was like a cave with an opening at the top with a river at the bottom I guess? And I was crouched at the edge of the ravine thing, just looking down it because why not. While I'm doing that, a fucking POLAR BEAR comes from behind me and hits me into the fucking ravine, into the water, so that was fun. I almost drowned because that was a really deep river and a very high edge of the ravine so I almost drowned. :) 👍

Second story - so it's like may of 2020. It's covid, we're at home, etc etc. On our front porch, we have a roof thing over it with pillars at each corner of it. In the corners, where the pillar met the roof thing, a couple of birds made some nests. The one closest to our door was beginning to be made by a chickadee or a finch before a bluejay kicked it out and claimed the nest for itself(that's what my dad said he saw idk). The bluejay hung around for a while, occasionally flying away and bringing sticks or going to eat or something. This went on for like, 2-3 weeks. Then, one night, when my sister and I were waiting on the front porch to be picked up by my nana for a sleepover that weekend, we heard some tweeting from the nest. I saw maybe two baby bluejays, but a couple of days later, my mum said she saw at least four. That was pretty cool until a grackle came by and killed and ate three of the babies. I was pretty sad about that. But after that, I was very careful about watching that last baby when the mum wasn't around. After a good week or so, the baby was pretty grown, and I called him Baby because I was a stupid idiot baby then, and I thought, why not. My mum sat on the porch to smoke a lot in the spring and summer, so she saw the baby try to jump out of the nest multiple times, same as my dad when he sat out there with her, just talking. But one rainy day, I noticed that the baby bird was missing from its nest, and I had thought that he had jumped out and soon figured out how to fly. Or so I thought. Because couple of days later, when it was sunny again, I asked my mum if I could go on my bike. She said yes, so I grabbed the keys to the garage and the side gate. I grabbed my bike out of the garage and walked down the short path while talking to my mum(she sometimes sits out on the deck to smoke) about this dead baby robin I found on the sidewalk while biking one day when I realized I almost RAN OVER THE FUCKING BABAY BLUEJAY. the little fucker was just sitting right in the path without a care in the world. I told Mum, and she went inside to get a towel so we could move him out of the backyard because we had three very big dogs(rest in peace, Tank, I will love you forever) that would probably eat him without a second thought. After about 10 minutes of chasing him around, Mum says to leaving him alone where he was(being in the neighbors front garden, I think). So I go biking for a while and when I come back the little fucker is sitting in the path to the side, on one of those things you'd find in garden shops with bags of dirt on them ig? They were proped up against our garage, and the baby was sitting on the bottom part of it, scaring the living shit out of me. After I put my bike away, I come back to him, and I just sit on the ground in front of him. You know what happened. I fucking pet him. Like the awesome badass i am. He didn't even try to bite me or pull away, either. A few days pass by, and every night, he tries to fly out over our fence(and failing, resulting in faceplanting into the fence). After a while, he managed to climb into our lilac tree and hopped/flew into a bigger tree, and left. Didn't see him again after that. I also renamed him BJ. 👍👍👍

Yeah no I'm done with this tonight I just spent the last hour writing these so hope you have fun reading them holy fuck

I might do it again, though :)

[lunargracklepersonal]

Thought I'd share some 4am thoughts on voting. Here's the tl;dr up front: Grackle says vote third party.

Here's my logic. We're in the stage of a failing democracy/impending fascism where we need to essentially tell the drunken idiot at the bar to get out before throwing him out by force.

Biden is our drunken idiot. Don't get me wrong, I'm a trans person. I don't want to see a DeSantis presidency or another Trump presidency or Project 2025 come to fruition either. But between Biden's failure to do anything to protect trans people and his active sponsorship of genocide, I have no intention of voting for him in the future. It would go against both my conscience and my sense of self preservation to do so.

Now, there's this idea of voting blue no matter who. Fuck that. If we do that, all we are doing is allowing the democratic party to be pushed even farther right against our better interests, as that leaves us with no say in who runs the party and who represents us.

There's also game theory and the split vote effect. I counter this by saying we don't need a victory. We need to send a clear message that enough of us disapprove to the point of actively voting for someone else. Someone unexpected.

Now, there's also a case for not voting as a protest against the two-party system and the first-past-the-post vote collection schema, as well as a true sense of disillusionment. A lot of people feel they're choosing mutual aid and direct action over voting and not voting at all. I personally still think it's important to vote (third party, by mail if possible) if you're capable anyway. It's more important to do direct action and mutual aid, so if you truly do have to choose, do those, but I believe in doing both. Not voting tends to send the message that you don't care, which isn't the intent I think you want. I think voting third party, even for a candidate you know is nonviable, is a better act of protest.

My conscience is telling me my own choice is between not voting and voting third party this time. (The alternative being to actively vote for genocide on either side of the aisle.) So I'll take the option and vote for the most viable third party candidate I can find.

[deadlyglacier]

FanFiction Update

So, I haven't updated my blog here in a while, so I thought I'd catch y'all up on the things I've worked on since Smutmas last year (lol)

SECTION 1: FullMetal Alchemist Fics

Musicology

Rating: G

Pairing: None

Summary: Al is having trouble coming to terms with his new existence as a suit of armor. Winry helps.

G-Rated. Bittersweet. Post-Human Transmutation.

Cardiology

Rating: E

Pairing: Unrequited Ed/Al + RoyEd

Summary: Alphonse has known what's going on with Ed for a while, but tonight he comes face to face with it.

Hedonics

Rating: E

Pairing: Ed/Al

Summary: Something has been brewing between the Elric Brothers since the Promised Day, and one afternoon, it all bubbles over... NSFW. Elricest.

Ombrology

Rating: E

Pairing: Roy/Ed (sort of)

Summary: Ed runs through the streets to escape some drunk idiots, and seeks solace from the one place in Central he can find peace.

NSFW. Gargoyle!Roy. Post-Brotherhood. Post-Promised Day.

Written as a congratulatory gift for my dear friend @willowsrain <3

Oh, but she loves, like sleep to the freezing

Rating: M

Pairing: Unrequited RoyEd

Summary: Years after the Promised Day, Roy is sent a letter from Alphonse fearfully urging him to see Ed in Resembool. What Roy finds far worse than he could have imagined.

Inspired by Hozier's "Cherry Wine."

TW/CW: Implications of domestic abuse.

Trichology

Rating: T

Pairing: RoyEd

Summary: Winry encourages Ed to go to her salon and get a haircut.

RoyEd. Modern AU. Meet Cute. SFW.

Lexicology

Rating: E

Pairing: RoyEd

Summary: Ed and Roy are grocery shopping and preparing for an amazing weekend alone together when Ed decides to shake things up a bit.

RoyEd. 03/CoS-FixIt-verse. Adult Ed. BDSM + Fetish. One-Shot. TikTok-inspired.

Written for the lovely @willowsrain, for their birthday!

SECTION 2: Inuyasha Fics

Dove

Rating: M

Pairing: Implied InuKag, InuKik

Summary: Kagome unloads on Inuyasha and Kikyou after they ask the impossible of her.

Not a happy story. You've been warned.

One-Shot.

Parrot

Rating: G

Pairing: SessKagInu

Summary: Kagome is painting her nails one weekend afternoon, and her son Keiji is curious.

Kag/Sess/Inu. Domestic Fluff. One-Shot.

Honeycreeper

Rating: E

Pairing: SessKag

Summary: Kagome gets a new kind of weapon, and it has... an interesting effect on her. The only one that appreciates it is Sesshomaru.

NSFW. Sub!Sess/Dom!Kag. BDSM.

Prequel to my SessKag Week 2021 fic, Grackle!

Starling

Rating: M

Pairing: SessKag

Summary: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

During an era of relative peace, an object of tremendous power has surfaced, a crystal known as the Shikon Jewel.

The Jewel’s presence has divided the Jedi Order, and forced them to send one of their own to hide away with the object, preventing a civil war.

The defeated Sith lay in wait, scattered across the galaxy in covens, but news of the Jewel has spread far and wide, and many are hunting it with the hope to restore power to the Sith Order.

But, with no leader to rally them, the Dark Jedi remain powerless in this new age… for now.

Thus, the fate of the galaxy rests in the hands of the one given the task of protecting the Shikon Jewel, a young Jedi woman named…

Kagome.

SECTION 3: A Mass Effect Ficlet

Constellations

Rating: E

Pairing(s): Varied, but mainly FemShep/Garrus

Summary: Round 2 of @forgettable-fox’s Drabble Challenge – but this time, all the drabbles are going to take place in the Mass Effect universe!

Possible TW: dieting?

SECTION 4: Yuuri!!! On Ice Fics

Twizzle

Rating: T

Pairing: Victor/Yuuri

Summary: Yuuri and Victor run into an old friend of the Russian's at the airport.

Post-Grand Prix Final. Victor/Yuuri. Fluff. One-Shot.

Possible TW: dieting?

Glissade

Rating: E

Pairing: Victor/Yuuri

Summary: After skating his incredible short program in China, Yuuri and Victor sneak off to relieve some tension.

(I have a bit of an obsession with the Eros costume, okay? It's fine. It's *fine.*)

PWP. One-Shot. Post-China Short Program. Virgin Power Bottom Yuuri. Service Top Victor.

And there you have it! Everything's up today for now! I'll try to get better about updating my blog with what I'm working on so it doesn't get backed up like that again 🙃

Enjoy!

<3DG

[witchblade]

man ive flattened my brain completely. its just a flat translucent disc

[dailyadventureprompts]

Dungeon: The Mouth of King Mozok Maulhead

“Oh sure, when the snooty elves or the crabby dwarves built a prison to contain a great evil, everyone’s like “yeah, better not go in there” but as soon as goblinkind does the same every idiot with a sword and deathwish thinks “ oh hey, bet they’ve got some gold in there or something”.

I don’t know what to tell ya, our welcome mat is giant screaming face made of stone and a fifteen minute walk up uneven stairs. What part of that says “I better get three to five of my best murderer friends together and stage a B&E“?

-Grackle Twotooth, hobgoblin guard

The Legends of Mozok Maulhead are famous among goblinkind, a warlord who ruled the timberlands with an iron first and ate demons to bolster his power. Sadly, many elements of these legends failed to bridge the culture gap, such as the fact that Mozok was so awful he was cast down by his own lieutenants and imprisoned deep beneath the earth so that his wickedness could not escape. Instead, those non-goblin communities who also suffered under Mozok’s rule remain fairly unclear on the warlord’s ultimate fate, hearing only the “buried warlord” bit and imagining caches of pilfered wealth that it implies.

Hooks:

Taken by curiosity and the stories he’d heard all his life, an apprentice woodsman decided to sneak off from his chores and take a peak inside the Mouth, only to get captured and grilled by the goblin garrison over his trespassing. The woodsman’s master, responsible for the youth and looking to save his own skin, has already returned to town spinning wild stories about being attacked by hobs and barely escaping with his life as the boy was carried off. Not swept up in the hysteria, one of the town elders tasks the party with reaching the Mouth before the woodsman manages to whip up a mob, to see of the party can avert violence by negotiating the boy’s safe return.

Having accomplished much and proven themselves heroes, a mid level party is approached by a hobgoblin emissary with an urgent request. A band of foolhardy young adventurers have blitzed past her garrison and have gotten themselves lost in the in the caverns below the Mouth. Normally they’d be a writeoff, but this particular band of idiots has proven tenacious and by the time she left three of the eight locks on the Warlord’s gate had been opened. It’s a race against time before the final seal is broken, but perhaps the party can help these would-be treasurehunters see reason where the hobs cannot.

When the gate finally is breached ( whether by the party themselves, a group of daredevils, an angry mob looking for loot, or a young woodsman that’s managed to slip past his captors) Mozok Maulhead will be released from his tomb. A desiccated corpse in rusted armour puppeted by all the fiends and other evils he swallowed, the warlord will fight free of his prison and then work in secret to reclaim his sylvan empire, first by making allies with the other evils of the wood, then by summoning the dark fey Maglubiyet to make him an army out of the very goblins that kept him captive.

[randomwritingwords]

The first sounds were screams and gunshots. Three figures in black and white trench coats dashed behind a bookshelf as the bullets flew towards them. The crowd of people in the mall scrambled to get out of the way of the police officers, who were screaming “Police! Put your hands up!” and shooting with reckless abandon. One of the figures yelled, “Could you please explain why there are six people trying to kill us?!”

“Actually there are eight.” said a second figure.

“Well, excuse me for not being specific enough! Now explain!” said the first.

“You know, I think we have bigger problems right now,” said the third figure, “but no, keep arguing. It's not like we're being shot at or anything.”

At that moment, a bullet pierced the books they were hiding behind, emphasizing their predicament. “Fine,” the first figure yelled, “but you are explaining when we get back!” Then the three figures hurriedly covered themselves in their respective coats, falling silent. The terrified police officers stopped firing and approached the bookshelf, shaking and holding their guns with a white knuckled grip. Suddenly, three birds flew around the bookshelf and out the window of the bookstore, leaving eight confused and frightened cops behind.

If someone at that moment looked up, they would see three black birds fighting in the gray sky. If they were close enough to hear the birds, that someone would be confused as to why the birds were speaking perfect English. No one was close enough to hear them though, as the mall the majority of the city had just been in had set on fire.

“What were you thinking, you idiot!” said the raven, “you could have gotten us all killed!”

“Well, I’m sorry, I was just trying to get what we came for!” screeched the crow. After the two birds calmed down, the grackle asked “What were we after, anyway?” “Well, we were after an artifact that would allow the user to do ...something.” the raven gave a birdish shrug, which almost caused her to fall, but only almost. “We got what we came for, so it doesn’t matter too much anyway.” After a moment of silent flight, the raven asked “Did anyone see us? I thought there was someone else behind us when we changed.” “I’ll check when we get on the ground.” the crow replied. The raven nodded its head, and they flew over the city in silence.

(This is an excerpt from one of my unfinished stories, so feedback is VERY appreciated, Thankies)

[slytherinliththorne]

The Fate of the House of Thorne

Inspired by my secret santa from last year, what a timing am i right and the Dead!MC challenge by @dat-silvers-girl​ (i think). I recommend checking out the info about Lith’s curse before proceeding, tho it’s not necessary.

Warnings I guess: character death (no shit sherlock)

Lith was dying. She hadn’t been able to tell where the bird ended and where the woman started for a while now. She had taken spells and fangs and claws, without the slightest hesitation. Her body felt tired, beaten and utterly broken.

Dying felt like shit, she decided. 

The strength was leaving her lungs and she thought of Talbott. Her poor beloved, lying as an eagle, motionless. Before they got separated, they had promised to meet up in the Great Hall after everything was over. That, of course, never happened.

She thought of their last meeting, prior to the battle, years ago. 

They had fought. Lith wanted to help Undesirables. Talbott had tried to dissuade her from that. She had gotten angry and asked him to quit as an auror instead, now that the Ministry was obviously in the hands of Death Eaters. Talbott refused and Lith banged the door on her way out. She had gone back to Mexico to check on her family and when she came back she did exactly what she had intended. 

What an awful thing it had been to see him for the first time in 3 years in the familiar hallways, surrounded by the enemy. The flood of emotions had threatened to let out a torrent of tears. Relief, happiness, fear. She was obviously happy to see him alive, she had wanted to apologize for a long time. But at the same time he was about to get attacked, she couldn’t rest just yet.

If Lith had known that he was going to die anyway, she would have hugged him so tight. She would have kissed him with tears in their eyes and she would have told him how sorry she was; not for doing what she did, but for leaving him behind. Sure, there hadn’t been much time for that, but they should have risked it. At least they might have died together.

The black feathers slowly crept over her neck, getting closer to her face. She could even feel a few behind her ears. 

She had heard stories of how past Divideds had died. Getting murdered through their Companions, using too much energy until they collapsed, dying while being in their Companions bodies, merging fully into them till death. There hadn’t been a Divided in the Thorne bloodline for so long, that it all sounded foreign. Yet it was happening to her. Her grackle Companion had disappeared into her chest the moment she let go of Talbott’s body and lost it. Lith knew he would not come out again.

“Thorne? Is that you?” Someone called out for her, yet it felt so, so distant. On a closer look, Lith distinguished a familiar mess of brown hair rushing towards her. “Hey, get it together, idiot!”

Merula fucking Snyde. And in Death Eater’s robes nevertheless. Lith would have laughed if there had been any energy left. What came out instead was a choked snort. 

Merula got down, leaning closer to inspect her. 

“Battle’s over, Death Eaters retreated to their master.” 

“And you’re still here.” Gods above, her voice sounded terrible. Merula glared at her.

“Does it matter? I’m the one who’s saving your sorry ass.”

“No, you are not.” Lith coughed and looked at Merula’s startled face.

“Say again?”

“You are not…,” coughing again, “saving me, I’m going to die no matter what you do.”

Merula decided that arguing with a half dead delirious freak was going to get her nowhere. She grabbed one of Lith’s feathered arms and attempted to lift her up. 

“Leave me, I’d rather spend my last moments lying down than being dragged like a doll”

“Were you always this dramatic, Thorne?”

But Merula laid her down. She got her wand out, probably resorting to healing her there herself. Not that it would work, a simple spell would not break a curse she had unsuccessfully tried to get rid of for years.

“I’m scared, Snyde,” she admitted. “Terrified as hell.”

“Shut up”

“I don’t want to die”

“And you will not, now shut up!”

“I’ve always been… so afraid of death, even before Rowan. I was also scared of growing all wrinkled and old, but I suppose that won’t be a problem anymore.” Now that it was really over.

“I will make it your problem, don’t you worry about that.” Merula looked like she had something to add but stopped when she eyed Lith. 

She was now sobbing uglily. She found out she still had energy to feel stupid for crying before the person who had hated her the most in their school years. “I’m scared, hold me…”

“I said you are not-”

“Please…please, I’m scared” Lith pleaded, weeping. “I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go…”

In that moment, Merula recognized there was nothing she could do but give in to the dying witch’s request. 

Merula held her rival’s hand one last time before it went limp. There was no need to close her eyes, for they had been blocked by the black feathers that now covered the entire body beyond recognition.

Lith had died.

------------------------------------

I...never intended to write this whole thing. It just happened. Merula’s appearance was a surprise to me too. Also, don’t worry this is not canon she will not die in the Battle of Hogwarts. 

After thinking about it a while, I decided I do not want Lith to break her curse, I won’t allow her. Both in the canon storyline and in this AU, she will die from it. It just seems...right.  She will live a good life but die to the thing she is afraid the most. someone’s gotta take one for the team as in someone gotta stay cursed to balance the ones who do break theirs jk. 

I also projected a lot with this, I myself am very scared of death. I even wrote a whole paragraph explaining the reson behind the way her curse works and how it relates to my fears and desires when I was feeling really down earlier today, but I won’t post it because I’m okay now.

[halo-jpeg]

Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 7

"E-Eddie?" Bill's voice, loud and clear, echoed throughout the apartment just loud enough to be heard over the sounds from Eddie's Walkman, "Wuh-wanna come with me down to the p-puh-park?" Hastily, Eddie pulled his headphones from their place atop his head, leaning up on one elbow. His limps felt heavy, his eyes bleary with semi-sleep, a fog shrouding his brain. He was lying in bed, having never gotten out of it since he woke that morning- it was a Friday today, and his Fridays were always void of classes, so instead of getting up and starting his day with Stan and Bill at 7:00 am he had stayed in bed until, well, now- it was just past 5:00.

"Shit," Eddie hissed to himself, clicking 'pause' on his Walkman and setting both it and his headphones aside. He really hadn't meant to stay in bed so late. He hadn't eaten anything yet today, and silently cursed himself for it. He was afraid that he was developing a habit of missing meals; without his mother here to tell him what to do as she used to, he was forgetting all sorts of things. Sonia had been the very best at keeping Eddie on a set schedule, fitting meal times perfectly in between his medication times and getting him out of bed at 6:30 am sharp every morning, even weekends and holidays (which he had hated, but understood). Not having her here was strange- other than food, Eddie found himself forgetting to shower and do his laundry, too. He wouldn't have a single clean outfit if it weren't for his roommates.

"Eddie?" This time it was Stan who called, his voice just on the outside of Eddie's door, snapping him from his thoughts, "Are you dead in there or something?" With three knocks, Eddie called out 'come in!' and the door slipped open. At once, Stan frowned, already knowing that, so far, Eddie had spent his whole day in the same spot and had yet to do anything productive. One could tell by Eddie's disheveled hair and lack of shirt alone. "I'm making you something to eat and then you're coming down to the park with us," He said, his tone flat, leaving no room for argument. With a quick glance over his shoulder (towards where others were most likely waiting) Stan pushed into the room and shut the door behind him, "Come on, what do you want to wear?" As Stanley crossed the room to stop in front of the dresser, Eddie pushed his blankets aside. He felt a little weak, a little dizzy- most likely from the lack of nutrients- and silently cursed himself for losing track of time to such a degree yet again- he wondered how he had done it. With his trashy 12-hour mixtape playing in his ears he must have fallen into some sort of daze.

"Anything's fine," He shrugged, wiping at his eyes with the heels of his hands and then moving to stand at Stan's side so he could dig around his drawers on his own, "How'd your day go?" Stan was passing Eddie subtle, rapid glances, ones that clearly weren't meant to be noticed but were noticed anyways. You didn't have to be a genius to see that Stanley was nervous for Eddie, either his physical or his mental health- both of which were in decent enough places, by the way- and that he was probably desperate to go into some sort of mother mode. Instead of beginning to pester and maybe scold, he replied in a cool, collected voice,

"It was nice. Ben, Beverly and Richie caught me while leaving school," Stan's last Friday class ended at noon, so Ben, Bev and Richie must get out then as well, "and asked me to come down to the café with them." For a brief moment, almost unnoticeable, Eddie froze, and then forced his limbs to continue looking for suitable clothing.

"Ben, Beverly and Richie?" He asked, trying to keep his tone neutral and uncaring, "Are they here too then?" At once, Stan chuckled, shaking his he ad and bumping his elbow gently into Eddie's.

"No, Ed, Richie isn't here." Eddie gawked, startled as a rapid gone-and-then-gone thought shot through his head (how did you know Stan do you suspect that-), and was about to protest (yes, he had been curious about Bev and Ben too- but Richie had been his main curiosity, though he'd sooner die than admit it) but Stan continued before he could, "He and Bev had to work. Maybe we can stop by after the park. Ben's here, though," With a smile and another chuckle Stanley continued talking about his day. He had ordered a coffee, black, as usual, and chattered away with the three others before Beverly and Richie were swept behind the counter. Then, he and Ben had stuck around for a little while until Mike arrived, and then sooner or later Bill as well. Now, Ben, Bill and Stanley were here to gather up Eddie to go bird watching or sight seeing or whatever you called walking around and listening to Stan point and chatter about grackles or crows. Eddie had reached for a sweatshirt and Stan had rapidly shook his head, noting how hot it was outside today and that Eds would cook alive. Instead, he pulled out a short-sleeve button up tee laden with stripes of different colors, reds, yellows, dark blues and whites, along with dark grey jeans that were rolled up just above his ankles. "There," Stan said with a smile as Eddie finished slipping on a pair of white socks, "You look like you haven't been dead all day now." With careful hands, Stan leaned forwards to try and flatten down the mess of Eddie's hair. The shorter boy tried to flinch away with an exasperated groan, but gave in after a moment of fighting and let himself be pestered over. A small, tiny little part of him noted how nice it was to have Stan caring for him like this, how similar it was to the way his mother used to, but he pushed that thought away because he did not want to compare his mother to Stan.

"Thanks, idiot," Eddie grumbled after his hair was finally regulated, bashful and red in the face. The two boys, side by side, caught each other's eyes through the mirror. Stanley smiled, and one hand raised to rest on Eddie's shoulder.

"'Course, Eddie. Come on," He flicked his head, motioning for Eddie to follow, "Let's find you something to eat."

*****

Eddie had been greeted warmly by Ben and Bill, and then promptly fed leftover chicken caesar salad and the tallest glass of water he'd ever had. After he finished his food, a little embarrassed because Stan had been watching him like a hawk to make sure he ate every last bite, the group had left the apartment complex and made towards Back Cove Park, where they now walked side-by-side-by-side-by-side. Truth be told, the endless expanse that was the North Atlantic ocean was breathtaking, and the setting sun lit the rippling waves aflame. Though Back Cove Park was nothing like the Barrens, the footpaths did lead you towards a copse of trees about half the size of the jungle that was back in Derry. It was really nothing in comparison, but with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore no more than 100 feet away from the tree line, you could almost imagine that it was.

"You're going to break something Bill!" Eddie had his hands planted on his hips, face upturned to watch as Bill scaled a spindly pine tree, it's branches spiraling up and up and up and getting thinner with each, "You know the branches get weaker in the fall and winter, right? They could snap out from right under you and you wouldn't even be able to do anything!" Despite Eddie's worrying, Bill continued upwards with a haste that was almost inhuman- he was like a goddamn monkey for Christ's sake, taking his steps two branches at a time and giggling like a child each time something creaked underneath him. At last unable to continue watching (his anxiety was mounting steadily) Eddie spun on his heel and trekked away through the underbrush. Dried leaves crunched underfoot with each step thanks to the soft mulch covering the forest floor, and, if anything, that reminded him of the Barrens the most. In the fall the tangle of bushes and trees would turn orange and red, and then a deep brown, shedding their foliage and creating some sort of crackling sheet not unlike like some musical instrument. Stan and Ben were stood beside one another looking over a wide clearing and chattering about something Eddie couldn't quite piece together.

"But that raises another question," Stan mumbled, tapping his chin with one finger, "How would we get it down here? We don't have a car, and I guess we could bring it all down by hand but that would take a while," Ben straightened up, snapping his fingers as a grin split his face.

"I've got it! Mike's grandpa works at a farm, and I know he's got these big ATVs- Gators, I think they're called. I'm sure he wouldn't mind lending 'em to us for a day or two."

"Lending who what now?" Eddie stepped up on Ben's other side, his curiosity piqued. He glanced over the space before him where the trees thinned out for a good 50 feet and then grew dense once more. The break in the trees let slanted sunrays pass by to bathe the clearing in a golden glow.

"Eddie, perfect!" Ben turned to him with that same beaming smile, "What do you think-" He held out his hands, as if presenting a large project, a masterpiece he was very very proud of, "A clubhouse. No, wait- does that sound, like, lame? I... I don't know, but I've been eyeing this place for a while and I think it would be great to build in. Me and Stanley were talking about digging into the ground and making a sort of... underground hideaway so no, like, park rangers come by and report it. We could have a hidden trapdoor and everything. No one would even know it was there if we got it built fast enough!" Eddie took a brief moment to process, both Ben and Stan staring at him expectantly. Ben's words had come out in such a rush they put Eddie's chatter to shame, and despite his thoughts constantly racing a mile a minute he couldn't seem to comprehend what had been said. Slowly, he pieced together this plan, and then, his mouth dropped open as he fought to find the right words to express his outrage.

"Are you insane? Building a clubhouse in the ground?" A hand raised to pinch at the bridge of his nose, a sigh pressing out of his lungs, "With all the bugs and mold and fungus and shit? It's not safe to be digging around in that! And how would we even make it? As if we know anything about building a whole-ass clubhouse!" Stan's own smile overtook his face and he took a few steps closer.

"That's the thing! The cold will kill all of that gross stuff, and make the ground easy to dig without us getting all caked in mud! Before the snow falls we can have it built and winterized! We'll make it watertight, too! Ben knows how to do all of that!" The way both boys were smiling was reminiscent of two children who had just requested a puppy for Christmas- they were hopeful, pleading, almost- if Eddie said yes to this silly little idea then it would be decided. With Eddie's approval, Bill would think the idea as totally safe, and if Bill agreed then everyone else would too. If they could get Eddie to agree with them, then convincing the others would be easy. "Ben's in architecture, Eddie. He knows all about safety and building- he'll make sure everything goes okay." With a heaving sigh, Eddie let his shoulders sag, a frown on his face. He was reluctant to let this happen, but... well, if he supervised everyone to make sure no one did anything stupid then maybe it would be kind of cool. Maybe. And, if Ben really was in the architecture classes then he must know what he's doing.

"Fine," Two fists pumped into the air and a cheer rang out, "But, if anyone gets hurt, even once, I'm shutting it all down! I'm not letting you all get tetanus or aids from rusty nails and shit like that, okay?"

"We won't, don't worry! Come on," Ben punched Stan gently in the shoulder, "Let's go find Bill." At once, the two sped away, into the trees and in the direction of Bill. Following the crashing and crunching of fallen branches and leaves were their voices, loud and clear in the still, Autumn air, shouting up their crazy idea to Bill who must still be perched in the pine tree much like a bird Stan might find interesting and document in his bird book. With another heavy breath, Eddie turned back to the clearing, and really absorbed the details of the small place he was standing in. He missed the Barrens- the sad attempts at building dams, and even an attempt at building treehouse had been massive failures but they had still been lots of fun. Here in the small forest of Back Cove Park there was no bone-like bamboo to rattle eerily in the wind, calling silent warnings of fictional quick mud and tigers and creating the perfect environment to play jungle hunters. Here, there were no sewer drains spilling greywater into the Kenduskeag, which tumbled endlessly through the woods without restraint. Here, there were no paths trodden by children's feet, no trails flattened by generations and generations of walking and running and sneaking during a game of guns- but maybe, Eddie thinks, that will be okay. A clubhouse. A probably illegal underground clubhouse. It would give Eddie a new place to be, to spend his time. It will be a reason to return to these forests and to create new paths with new people, and maybe those paths will help them all one day just like the familiar ones back in Derry would have carried you away from the wrath of Henry Bowers. As Stan and Ben continued shouting their plan skywards, Eddie let the idea of a clubhouse grow on him just a tiny bit. A bud of excitement, even happiness, settled in the pit of his heart. It was warm and comforting, and he held to it tightly. Maybe this really was a good idea.

*****

By now the sun had set and cast the world into darkness. Though Eddie couldn't read his watch with the lack of light, he had to assume it was at least 9:00 pm and he was still in the forest with his friends; Bill, Ben, Stan and he had cleared some of the leaves from the clearing to expose the tough grass underneath, then Ben had found and rolled the smoothest stones he could find into the place to use as makeshift chairs. Now, the four were sat facing one another, a single flashlight in Bill's hand pointed upwards and casting an ominous too-white light over their faces that dragged shadows underneath their eyes and gave them the appearances of ghosts.

"Wait really? Like, full-on OCD? Not just... being a perfectionist or something? I know a lot of people say they have OCD when they actually don't," Ben was leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees, his steady gaze trained on Stan's who, in turn, had his hands clasped tidily in his lap.

"Yeah," He nodded, his curly hair a mess of bright browns and stark blacks thanks to the lighting, "If that's how you want to put it. I'm taking medication for it and stuff." Stan looked as if he were about to continue when Eddie cut in with a smile on his face,

"I remember one time Stan had come over to my house and I went to the bathroom for like- not even five fucking minutes. I left him in the kitchen and when I came out- oh my God," Eddie was already trying not to laugh, biting at his bottom lip to hold in the string of giggles that threatened to escape him, "He had organized everything. In five minutes! All the slats on my blinds had been straightened, all the dishes had been stacked big to small- the dishes!" Amusement grew in his chest, and he let it out in a sound one might imagine a coked-up chipmunk to make. He raised one hand to let it hover over his mouth, his eyes squinting, "I walked- I walked into the kitchen and caught him turning all my cans to face the front of the shelf!" Bill had cracked his own smile, a wide and toothy grin, and soon Ben had picked it up as well. Eddie wasn't certain why this was suddenly so funny. After being in bed all day his energy had shot through the roof. His laughter only grew and grew as he went on foretelling his story, his eyes beginning to glisten and his chest threatening to hurt. He didn't have his inhaler, but the slight concern he felt at that thought was quickly smothered by another wave of cackling, "I- I-I went hey! and he spun on his heel, his face all red- it- it was-" Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, his face hurting with his mirth, "He had a can of- of corn and- when he spun around he tip-" Through gasps for breath, wheezes that left him dizzy, he forced out, "He tipped over everything else on the shelf, too! All his hard work- like dominoes! Oh my God my mom was pissed! Stan was so- he looked like he was gonna die!" At last, Eddie couldn't hold himself together any longer. His amusement was contagious, and throughout the course of the story Bill and Ben had grown giddy all the same. Now, the three were howling, heads tipped back, rocking back and forth and fighting to get ahold of themselves while Stan on sat bashfully, a grin on his face. Briefly Eddie wondered why this felt so goddamn funny but found he didn't care.

"It was... I felt horrible," Stan had to raise his voice to be heard over the laughter of the three, his face visibly reddening even in the weak light, "Canned foods are expensive, and I didn't have the money to reimburse her or anything!" The howling laughter didn't cease, and, well, Stan decided that maybe this situation was funny enough to let himself laugh. His grin cracked wide and now he was giggling all the same, all flushed and breathless just like anyone else. Eddie was nearing physical pain but wow was that feeling fantastic. A good hard laugh was something rare to him and he always tried to soak in the moment when it arrived. His lungs burned, his head throbbed, and his eyes spat tears down his face. He glanced at Bill through bleary, slotted eyes and then at Stan and then at Ben, who were all laughing just the same, giddy off the feeling of being with one another. That feeling was just like when Eddie was with Stan and Bill, but amplified now that Ben was here too. That feeling was fantastic- That feeling was cut abruptly and Eddie shrieked like a madman as a sudden hand shot around his shoulders- all of a sudden, just like that, he was being pulled backwards into something, into someone- an arm around his throat in a chokehold threatening and dangerous and memories bad memories Henry Bowers and bullies and-

"Ooooooh looks like somebody Got Off A Good One!!" A fist was pressed into the top of his head and the sudden spurt of panic was gone again all at once- that giddy, light, precious hilarity returned and so did Eddie's grin as Richie trapped him in his arm and gave him a harsh noogie. It burned and Eddie didn't care as Richie continued off with that stupid MovieTone Newsreel Announcer voice, "Yowza, Eds, just YOW-za! You've got the stuff, kid, you've got the stuff for live theater! Sign right here on this dotted line and I'll get you on a stage! You'll make it big I know you will-!"

"Get off, Richie!! Beep fucking beep!" Eddie was giggling again, clawing at Richie's arms as tears streamed from his eyes, "Let me- Let me go!" He kicked and thrashed, writhing as a chorus of laughter continued on bright and bouncing. Somehow Eddie managed to wriggle free like a fish, and then he was rocketing up and bursting into a run as Richie reached to trap him again. He leaped from his seat on the rock, smiling from ear to ear- just as he had gained his freedom he saw Richie reaching to capture him once more but Eddie wouldn't let that happen. He glanced a single time over his shoulder to see Richie's own warm grin- that split second of time, no more than a heartbeat as Eddie's eyes locked with Richie's in a silent challenge, Eddie saw what was most likely the greatest thing he ever would. Richie's glasses were gently lit by the harsh LED from the flashlight- underneath the stupid coke bottles perched on his nose, Eddie could see the deep brown tone of his eyes and the way his smile pinched them gently in the corners. His teeth were miraculously straight, as if he'd had braces at some point in his life, and his cheeks wore a high flush. Eddie's head snapped forwards again and he set off into the forest, the darkness, hearing Richie's voice echoing behind him.

"I'll git ya Spaghetti! I'll git ya good 'n then I'll wrap y'up like a big 'ole presen', put ya undah my tree!" The New Yorker's accent rang through the trees with an almost surreal undertone, sending a shiver down Eddie's spine. Exhilaration ripped through him, lighting his veins aflame with a shaky happy-fear he didn't quite know how to explain. He was letting out little squeaky sounds, things like giggles of terror but he wasn't scared in the slightest. His chest was swelling with an almost-sick feeling, but it was a good kind of almost-sick. The emotion was confusing but reminded him strongly of childhood and he accepted it with open arms. As he crashed haphazardly through the undergrowth, eyes strained in the darkness, Eddie wasn't concerned in the slightest for what he might be pushing through- poison ivy, thorn bushes- shit, he could walk right over a corpse and he wouldn't be afraid for his health! Though certain he was not being too quiet, Richie was being even louder. Eddie had the upper hand here thanks to his significantly smaller, less gangly, more agile frame and also his ability not to be a big lumbering goofball every second of the day. Wyatt the Homicidal Bag-Boy was gone, and Richie was back in his place with his crooning, teasing, playful voice, "Eddie, my love! Come out come out wherever you are!"

Eddie's stomach did a weird little backflip, probably a symptom of his excitement as he decided that he was far enough away to start searching for a hiding spot. Years and years of hide-and-go-seek experience came flooding back to him, and he bit at his bottom lip to stop from making a single sound. He dropped into a crouch, scanning his surroundings in a flash; the darkness made it difficult to navigate, especially since everything was so unfamiliar as of now, but Eddie could work just fine with the silhouettes of trees and bushes. The beam from the flashlight danced through the trees, bobbing and waving around as Richie blundered closer by the second. Cheater, you shouldn't get a light, Eddie thought and then almost let out a bubble of laughter driven by his own delirium- he reached out a hand and brushed the brittle, hardened leaves of a bush, crawling immediately closer and trapping one between his fingers. Rubbing the surface rapidly, he deducted that it wasn't poison ivy (which had an oily feel, even when the leaves were dried) and used both hands to part the branches and skitter right through. He kept his head low, his shoulders and elbows tucked in with an expertise you could only get form having done this a billion times already. Hiding places like these were Eddie's specialty- this bush was small with tight-packed branches, but he was smaller and could fit just fine, whereas someone lankier like Bill or Stan would not stand a chance.

"Come ooooon Spaghetti-man!" Richie called out in a sing-song voice, only about 100 feet away, "If you don't come out right this instant I might just have to lure you, and trust me, you don't want that! My singing is just i-rre-sis-tible!" Eddie patted around him, finding a smooth, round stone about the size of a golf ball and clutching it tightly. Risking his spot just for a moment, he slid his front half out and pulled his arm back- then, with as much force as possible, he sent the rock flying. If everything had gone according to plan, the rock would have flown far and called Richie's attention away; that would have allowed Eddie to scurry back to the others with a smug smile to wait for the Trashmouth to give up and return to see him sitting proudly. Sadly, everything did not go according to plan, and the stone barely made it 10 feet. Eddie's throwing hand wasn't horrible- he considered himself rather strong for his size- but his vision sure was, and the rock collided with a thin, wiry tree and went clattering into the brittle leaves before making any great distance. At once, the beam of the flashlight went whipping towards the sound, and Eddie felt his heart leap into his throat. That almost-sick feeling went waving through him again as he shot back into the bushes and curled his knees into his chest, slapping a hand over his mouth. Through his mind ran the word shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit but he was grinning like an idiot and trembling lightly with stifled howling. The flashlight clicked off- now, total darkness ruled the world.

"Heeeeeeeeeere Eddie Eddie Eddie!" Richie's voice was like a breath of wind, far-off and terrifying. Eddie balled his hands into fists and bit down on the knuckles of his left, the right one wrapped tight around his knees to hold them as close, as out of sight, as possible, "Why are you hiding from me like this?" That was the last thing Richie said- the silence that followed was stifling. Far off, Eddie could hear the voices of his other friends, Bev's dancing titter was familiar now, as was the powerful tone of Mike's. All seven of them were here in the forest right now. Following that realization was another wave of childish glee, along with a swell of affection that was there and gone in an instant. Who knew Richie could move so silently? Not a single breeze stirred the branches, and not a leaf crunched under the sole of a sneaker. Eddie's own rapid breathing sounded much too loud, and he wouldn't be surprised if the thudding of his heart was as noisy as the beat of a drum. Anticipation, cold, crept up his spine and fed him a sudden alertness. It felt as if the world had brightened for a second, as if his eyes had sharpened and began to see crystal clear just for a blink. The outline of unruly hair, a mass of it, was suddenly discernable from the shape of the nature. Richie's head was bent, half-kneeling, and he was slinking around like a ninja. It was only for a brief moment that Eddie could see him before he was gone again, swallowed by the shadow, but he had been much, much closer than before- Eddie bit into his knuckle a little harder, afraid he would let out a squeak like a mouse.

The quiet seemed endless. Time lost all meaning. If it weren't for those far-off voices, Eddie would have been convinced that time might have frozen entirely. The air was cool and fresh, warmed to a pleasant bite and not the bitter iciness it would have been otherwise thanks to the days sunniness. Through the leaves blocking the sky Eddie could see faint glittering stars, but the pollution from the Portland lights almost smothered them entirely. It was fascinating to him- back in Derry, the stars had been crisp, clear, displaying their constellations with pride. Now, here, it was the polar opposite. Curious. Somewhere an owl hooted and Eddie jumped. Leaves crumbled beneath him- a twig snapped under one heel. He didn't even have time to register that he had made a noise.

"Eddie!!!" Eddie shrieked, a total screech, ear-splitting, blood-curdling, horrific enough to freeze the blood in your veins. Hands plunged through the foliage and then he was being dragged out by the arms, yanked to his feet and then swept right off of them as he was thrown over a shoulder. "Sure an' begorahh! I caught me-self a boyo, an' a foine one at that!"

"Richie! Richie!" Eddie was squealing as a hand wrapped tightly, securely around his waist, and then Richie was spinning, twirling Eddie with him in endless dizzying circles that brought out that bubbling fountain of laughter once more. "Richie no- no, put me down- Richie!!"

"I caught me-self a boyo! A foine, foine boyo!" Richie picked up a tune to his words, some improvised nothing-ness that was too, too funny. He began to dance, prancing around on light feet and rocking Eddie all around as he sang his words. "I caught me-self an Eddie!" Eddie's lungs were hurting again because of his lack of breath, tears rolling down his face in steady streams. Richie was laughing too and the sound of it made Eddie's stomach do it's little backflip yet again. His laughter was hearty, loud, the sound of someone who was entirely happy with life and all of it's wonders. The spinning didn't stop until Richie almost stumbled, stomping down on his shoelace and drawing out another cry from Eddie as he almost went to the ground. "Wooooah! Sorr-ee 'bout tha', Spaghe-i-man, rough rough wa-ers it be!" Richie took on the voice of a sea captain, dragging up the image of an old man with a peg-leg and a pipe hanging from a mouth full of golden teeth. Eddie was laughing only harder.

"Put me down you fucker! Let me- let me go!" Eddie began to pound on his back with his fists, and at last that flashlight clicked on again. The light was blinding after the absence of it, but Eddie couldn't care less. He was on cloud nine.

"Something tells me you wanna stay up there, Eds! Something tells me you- you wanna stay where you can see the whole world!" Richie took one more grand spin, a pirouette that would put a beginner ballerina to shame. It would have been impressive if Eddie hadn't had his eyes screwed shut to stop the flow of tears.

"Fuck you, Tozier! Let me down!" Alas, Tozier didn't comply. Instead, he began to hum the tune of 'Here Comes the Bride' as he took overdramatic, high-kneed steps towards the direction of the others- the hand that isn't wrapped tightly around Eddie's waist moves up to capture his legs, which had begun to kick and had almost knocked him right in the glasses.

"Watch the toes, Eds, you don't want to knock out these pearly whites, do you?"

"That's what I'm fucking going for you jackass!" Eddie brought his elbow back into the back of Richie's head, knocking it forwards with a dull thud and an 'oof!'.

"Oh-ho, you're in for it now, Eds! You asked for it!" And then, Richie began to tickle. Eddie felt his heart stop, and then begin to thud much too quickly. He could handle teasing and carrying and stupid singing but tickling- oh no, he didn't have the breath to deal with that. He was howling again, curling instinctively in on himself as much as he possibly could- which wasn't a lot, since he was tossed over Richie's shoulder and locked into place. Fingers jabbed and poked at his ribs, his sides, and he was in pure hysterics.

"No- No no no Richie Richie stop! Stop it stop it ohmygodRichieRichieRICHIE-" Eddie no longer had any breath. His screaming laughter had halted, now no more than painful wheezes. Tears soaked his face, soaked the back of Richie's shirt, and his cheeks were a bright beaming red. He wanted to scream at Richie to stop, to let him be, to please please spare him but oh my GOD he couldn't take it- Richie's hand pulled away and Eddie sucked in a heaving breath, his chest pulsing with each and every one as the lasts of his laughter forced it's way out. He felt like he was suffocating and for once it wasn't because he didn't have his inhaler.

"There," Richie said, the smug grin basically audible in his voice, "That'll teach you, Eds. No more elbowing!" Just to defy him, Eddie bumped him in the back of the head again- and then instantly regretted it as he felt Richie shift to tickle-attack him again.

"No! No no I'm sorry it was a joke-" Richie's own laughing burst out, and the hand dropped as he nearly doubled over. The tickling hand went to rest on his knee, and now he was the one howling away, that jovial sound echoing around the trees with a dream-like authenticity. It was bliss.

"Oh, Eddie, Christ you're just- you're a hoot!" Richie spoke as best he could through his growing breathlessness, and finally put Eddie down back onto solid ground, though the shorter boys knees wobbled as his own dizziness held strong. The two boys fell apart beside one another, grinning and sobbing and cackling like maniacs, fighting just to stay upright as their contentedness fed off of one another and radiated in warm, yellow rays. Minutes passed, more than 10, before either boy could regather themselves. Surprisingly, Richie was the first to go silent and manage to catch his breath- and then, just as Eddie did the same, the tone shifted, growing warmer yet. Eddie's eyes raised, locking with Richie's own. The Trashmouth wore his toothy smile, his eyes crinkled in the corners, bright as stars behind those coke-bottle glasses. Something heavy settled around them, something Eddie had never felt before and didn't recognize. Richie's head tilted, and the smile fell into something smaller, more serene, and yet almost ten times prettier. "I like the sound of your laugh, Eds." His voice was uncharacteristically sincere, and it took Eddie by surprise. The sudden flat tone was dripping with... affection? He wanted to answer, to say something back like 'Yours is nice too' or 'I like the sound of you shutting up' or anything at all, but before he could piece together a coherent phrase Richie was moving again. "Come on," He grabbed Eddie's hand- no, more like his wrist, and with no intent other than to guide him- and began to head back in the direction of the others, "I'm sure they'll want their light back."

Eddie's face was warm and red, and he had seemed to lose his voice. He felt like he was glowing with a soft light- and he felt like Richie was doing the same. He had never, ever laughed like that before. He had never, ever felt that free and normal and human. There was no voice of Sonia Kaspbrak, no warnings of broken necks or arms or noses, no shouting over bugs and thorns and rashes. For those last minutes, Eddie Kaspbrak had been just that- Eddie Kaspbrak. For once in his life he had not been Eddie Kaspbrak, son of Sonia Kaspbrak. He had just been himself. With Richie's hand around his wrist, dragging him, he wanted nothing more than to relive that moment forever and ever. If he died right now and went to heaven, he was certain that those moments alone with Richie would be what heaven was. The sound of his stupid, goofy laugh, the soft, almost manic dancing of those big, brown eyes, that lanky arm around his waist- that is what heaven was. Eddie found himself wanting to go back in time. The two arrived back with the others.

[waywardvagabonds]

Tagged by @beasymphony

Name: Sara

Nicknames: Tiny Terminator (courtesy of @compactpersian)

Gender: Female

Orientation: Gay? Ace? Maybe the tiniest bit bi? Hard to say...

Nationality: American

Faith/Religion: Non-religious but vaguely spiritual, I guess???

Hobbies: Distance running, bouldering, drawing, video games, tabletop games.

Favourite colour(s): Blues and greens.

Favourite Holiday: Uhhh...Thanksgiving, maybe? Because food.

Books: A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki, Smoke Gets In Your Eyes and From Here to Eternity by Caitlin Doughty, anything by Amy Tan

Films: Princess Mononoke, Kiki’s Delivery Service, Life in a Day (YouTube documentary on the Western States 100)

TV shows: The Good Place, Parks and Recreation, Fringe, Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Legend of Korra

Music: Vienna Teng, Kate Miller-Heidke, Of Monsters and Men, Regina Spektor, Ryn Weaver, Florence and the Machine, I could keep going but we would be here all day...

Coffee, Tea, or Hot chocolate: All of them? Also have you ever had a dirty chai? Why go coffee OR tea when you could go coffee AND tea.

Favourite meme: Honestly the Big Enough meme is like...my eternal mood.

I want to live long enough to: That’s an interesting question that I don’t really even have an answer for...but how about I direct you to The Order of the Good Death instead.

Weird Obsessions: Bird obsessions aren’t really all that weird, but my particular love of grackles probably is at least a little bit strange. Also, thanks to Caitlin Doughty (see books above) I’m now a proud deathling.

Random Fact: I found all 900 korok seeds in Breath of the Wild. Like an idiot.

Goals for 2018: Well, it was running a Boston qualifying time at the San Antonio Marathon, but I kind of don’t give a shit about that anymore, so I guess my goal is really just to break a 4:00 marathon. The real goals have all moved into 2019, when I’m hoping to start running ultras.

Tagging: @spareourworld @spanishfaster @compactpersian @kodakclick

[kestrelsarethebestrels]

A short tale of bows and birds.

-PART 1-

Someday... in the post-apocalyptic world of 2042... Mankind has fallen and the birds have gained sapience and reclaimed their lands and skies... A dusty cellphone, relic of the past, begins to ring amid the concrete debris-strewn rubble of the Oklahoma City metro. Scarred, bruised hands scramble to answer the call. A distant yet familiar voice speaks. "Jason Miller?"

"....Dear god. I haven't heard that name in forever."

"This is Jason Miller, right?"

"Yes sir."

"This is Alex from H&H. Your Hoyt Invicta is ready."

"...."

"When you come to pick it up, just be aware that there's a gang of grackles harassing anybody who's trying to get in the parking lot. It's a bloodbath out there, haha. Good luck, loser. You could've just bought the Invicta from Lancaster."

-PART 2-

some time later...

15 days. 15 grueling, godforsaken days just to traverse the city. He would have taken a bike or some other faster mode of transportation, but birds are jealous, spiteful creatures in the year 2042. They have a tendency to attack any other species attempting to come close to their flight speeds. Moving twelve miles on foot wasn't easy with the freely belligerent gaggles of geese, or the true-to-their-name murders of crows. Fortunately, he had been prepared, stealthily moving from block to block and camping under shelter when the density of feathers outside became too high. It's too bad that bow order had taken so long, or he would have obviously had a much easier time. Indeed, for in the year 2042, firearms have ceased working (for whatever reason, but mostly because the plot really needs that to be true).

But finally, the time had come. He stood under the small awning at H&H. The doors had clearly been in a state of disrepair - nay, total destruction - for several years. Feathers and other unimaginable bits and pieces lay undisturbed on the sidewalk leading up to the entrance. It was obvious the birds had ransacked this establishment long ago, but since firearms don't work in 2042 (bear with me here), the avian entities were unable to... bear arms. Because they have wings, and also because they found the guns inoperable. (Their world takeover would have been vastly faster had they had access, but humans should count themselves so lucky.)

He stuck his head through one of the broken glass doors. "Hello?"

Greeted by silence. Odd. Try again, maybe. "Hello?"

Still no answer. Damn. Deeply sighing, he carefully stepped with all his gear over the remains of the door frame, switched on a flashlight, and looked both ways inside. All clear, literally and figuratively. The birds had ransacked anything else that was usable. He headed towards the archery shop on the left. As he passed the cafe, which clearly still had been serving up those crispy hand-breaded onion rings until the very end, a feeble voice groaned from the end of the store.

Jason was on full alert, but that voice was definitely human and not a mockingbird (a species whose skills had allowed them to mimic humans and lure them into the open, causing untold damage in the early days of the apocalypse). Crouching behind the empty product stands, he looked around once more and then slowly moved in the direction of the sound.

"Hey uh... hah.. it's just me." A normal-enough voice. He stood up to locate the source and immediately found it with the flashlight.

"Hey asshole, turn that off!" the other guy yelped from behind the counter, raising his arms to shield his eyes from the beam. Well, he was certainly alive. Jason quickly ran his flashlight around his surroundings and noticed small piles of human bones that had been picked clean... Almost too clean. Not like how the birds usually did it. A wave of uneasiness swept over him, but dammit, he was so close. So close to the prize.

"Look, you called me 'bout two weeks ago. I've come a long way. Do you have it?"

"Have what?" The disheveled man cackled, the laugh of a man who had clearly gone insane a while ago. More uneasiness, but Jason fought it. "The bow, you idiot."

"Oh, the BOW. Hah, yeah, I do. It's been here the whole time."

"What's that s'posed to mean."

"Meant to call you earlier, but we forgot. But who are you gonna complain to now?!" His words devolved into more cackling at the end, rendering his speech almost unintelligible. His frail body doubled over in laughter, too hard now to even continue the conversation. Jason made his way to the backroom, the wooden door conveniently having had met the same fate as the doors back at the entrance.

There it was. A very dusty box, but clearly the right size and shape, and with the Hoyt logo clearly emblazoned upon it. He quickly tore it open and found that bright pink Invicta 37 SVX, as clean as the day it left the factory. Giddy with excitement, heart pounding, he held the bow up in his left hand. All the parts were there - custom grips, additional mods, user manual. The mission: successful. The bow: an engineering beauty. That weird guy outside: clinically insane.

But wait. He put the bow down and looked around the box for the packing slip. That's when he noticed the Sharpied note on the outside of the box.

He whispered a very short four-letter expletive to himself. There, next to the packing slip plastic, were written the words: "RECEIVED JUNE 2021."

[talesofealdancynedom]

Cetus in his fancy fairy robes. he’s usually in a comfy sweater; But alas, this I.T. guy moved back to a childhood magical forest, and adopted a OP nephew.

Tale 8: Cetus, Jupiter, and Makatchthis (chapter 3. No Manual Included 3/5 ) part 2. Stories of Fey

none

Morgan had no time to care for Makatcthis, now given the pet came ‘Matcha.’ Though Morgan was keen on studying an unknown fey, and adding research about griminthropes in his journals. He didn’t want anyone else to caught off guard. Cetus protested having Matcha around when Morgan told him what a griminthrope was. Cetus did not want his family eaten by a ‘giant creepy bird prince’.

“Morgan. You are a high school kid with an education and magical forest to worry about. You are a kid. And you have no time to take care of that thing.” Cetus moaned. “this isn’t babysitting for twenty bucks for your neighbors, that thing is dangerous and we know nothing about how to care for it.” Cetus went on.

“’It’ has a name uncle Cetus. His name is Matcha. And I’m sure we can all work together! I can do some extracurricular research since the forest is becoming stronger. Will we know what to do in no time! Besides, were doing Raven dad a solid. Do you want to anger a beast king? That is his precious child, and we’ve been tasked with doing a task of compassion.” Morgan said trying to persuade his uncle. Morgan was correct, the Raven king was not asking, and the Raven king could easily sick any bird fey on them. Cetus was forced to agree and help out. And Cetus never worked alone; Jupiter was along for the ride.

Matcha was two-year-old with the maturity of a seven-year-old, in a twelve-year old’s boy’s body. His sister Palladis always present. While Matcha lay limp in a nest of blankets and chimes, on the second floor, Palladis brought him garbage and dead animals to eat. Palladis gave some insight and information about her brothers, and was generally approachable. However, Palladis was abrasive in nature and took some getting used too. She acted like spicy grackle; compact, reactive, distractable and not morally opposed to biting people.  Palladis’s help wasn’t always appreciated, Jupiter and Cetus didn’t want road kill brought into the house. When Matcha began to perk up, even though he was weak, they gave in. Matcha was so cheerful, innocent and friendly in personality it was easy to forget he would ever grow into a lethal beast. Matcha was becoming charming even. Cetus and Jupiter even gave him a radio to help him sleep and sing. Soon Matcha could fly again; and the sooner he could fly, the sooner he could go home.

Cetus’s main motivation was not just that he was easily buttered because he was a soft, optimistic idiot; but because he would do anything for Morgan. Cetus went to great lengths to adopt Morgan, his little sister’s one and only child. He ventured through legal hoops and selling belongings just to afford caring for Morgan. Cetus knew how precious Morgan was to Icthya who thought she couldn’t have kids, and then had a miracle. Cetus and Jupiter’s daughter Regina, only three months older, was the same. Cetus had made a decision that seemed like a good idea at the time; famous last words. Satisfied by having a child, he decided to get a solidarity vasectomy. Cetus loved Reggie, so to him it was fine. IT WAS NOT FINE. Jupiter wanted five kids, like they had agreed. This gave Cetus occasional regret. To ice the cake, Cetus didn’t talk to Jupiter about it first. When Morgan and then Matcha showed up it was like it was happening all over again. Cetus couldn’t stop making warm hearted terrible choices and not telling Jupiter about them. He didn’t say anything about Morgan, and now he brought her on board with raising a fey out of a horror movie. Jupiter was often frustrated and angered by Cetus’s ‘oh by the way…’ mentality. But he was so sweet and had a certain joviality to him, that he was Jupiter’s favourite part of the day. She kicked herself in the butt for backing him up him every time. Jupitar tried to convince herself that all this year’s adoptions were making up for the fact they didn’t end up with a hearty brood like they had planned. Jupiter tucked the half grown griminthrope into his sparkly basket. She had a calm yet stern face, she stood there, resolute, saying to herself: “oh god. Not like this.”

Cetus worked I.T. at the hospital where Jupitar was a unit clerk. They weren’t even wizards, never mind mages. When they adopted Morgan, and sent Reggie to school with him, they did not sign up to live in a magical forest. But Morgan couldn’t leave the gate at that time. Morgan had bonded to it and would keep sleep walking back every night, so they decided to move in. Cetus loved magic, but Jupiter had no opinions about fey at first. She was the most put together, responsible person in the group. Unlike Cetus and Reggie who were constantly a goofy disorganized mess. Cetus accepted he was responsible for their fate and rose to the challenges of life with Jupiter by his side. The couple completed each other perfectly; making each other smile, and married for nearly twenty years, yet still have that original spark. Cetus and Jupiter still went on dates like they were sixteen. But not anymore. Now they had two fifteen-year old kids and a lot of mythical drama to cope with. While Jupiter pretended the mystical things around her didn’t exist most days, Cetus was more than happy to interact with fey like they were people. Eventually Jupiter would have to face it: she needed to take a level in magic if she was to protect her children, and relate to them. Matcha was the last straw. Jupiter would crawl through the shadow veil’s high-pitched terrifying shiver through the bones just to save Regina, and was not opposed to going full mage if she had too. Their daughter was dating a rock princess. Her nephew was in her guardianship and a king mage living in an ominous tower. She was losing it. But then she saw Cetus. Cetus was oblivious and bewildered by the gate like a peaceful idiot. Jupiter loved that; it gave her hope. Morgan was one thing; she was fine with that. Human boys can be coaxed to eat their vegetables. But Matcha was a bit too far. Feeding science experiments from the fridge was revolting. Jupiter decided to confront her husband about their lives. Cetus admitted it made him uncomfortable. Which was impressive because it meant Cetus actually comprehended what was going on for once. Cetus, was also starting to lose it.

“Jupiter, why can’t our mid-life crisis be like other peoples? What are we going to do? I’m about to jump into fountain nymph water to wash away years of my life to start over and return to the safety of childhood. Lend me your Franc iron will Jupe…” Cetus said.

“Lend me your incomprehensible ignorant bliss and we’ll call it a deal.” She retorted.

NEXT--->

<---PREVIOUS

[dantediscoversfic]

Chapter 17: Migration

Our yard had a big cedar elm whose branches brushed pretty close to one of my bedroom windows. I think that’s why I would often get birds hanging out on my windowsill. I liked waking up and seeing them there. We kept several bird-feeders around the yard and I liked figuring out which birds were the same ones I saw on my windowsill. I recorded my sightings and observations in a Field Notes journal. One year for Christmas my parents got me a ‘Birds of Texas’ poster with beautiful painted illustrations of common backyard birds. I loved their names: white-winged dove, pyrrhuloxia, canyon towhee, vesper sparrow, crissal thrasher, white-throated swift, red-winged blackbird, house finch, starling. Their names were like poems. I liked drawing birds, too. But not Texas birds, entirely made-up birds: the persimmon-tufted rocketbird, the tawny tailblaster, the water wawso.

The day that I would come to think of as Dead Bird Day began like any other day. The radio alarm woke me up. Stevie Nicks was throatily belting ‘The Edge of Seventeen’ and a grackle was tittering around my windowsill. I took those as good signs. I whistled to the bird and tapped on the window to say hello. I went downstairs, ate breakfast, and went to the pool to meet Ari. After we were done swimming we went back to my house. We sat on my front porch. My shoes were off and I was staring at my feet. Particularly, I was looking with mild disgust and fascination at all the little hairs on my toes that had suddenly sprung up, as if overnight, like Jack’s beanstalk. I wasn’t sure what I felt about them. The last thing I wanted was to end up with hairy and knobby Hobbit feet.

I looked up from my feet and saw that Ari was smiling at me.

“What?” I asked.

“I was just smiling,” he said. “Can’t a guy smile?”

“You’re not telling me the truth.” I’d been trying to work on his whole not-talking thing by calling him out on it (with limited success). Sometimes it worked. Other times he stayed as close-lipped as a clam.

“Okay,” he said. “I was smiling because you were looking at your feet.”

“That’s a funny thing to smile about.”

“It’s weird,” he said. “Who does that—looks at their feet? Except you.”

“It’s not a bad thing to study your own body,” I said. This topic—my body and the changes I’d been going through recently—had been popping up more and more to the forefront of my mind lately. I wanted to talk about it with someone, but as much as I loved my parents they were definitely out of the running and Ari got squeamish about that type of thing. I desperately wanted to know if he was feeling some of the same things I was feeling.

“That’s a really weird thing to say, too,” he said.

But then he’d answer like that and I knew the topic was not open for discussion.

“Whatever,” I said.

“Whatever,” he said.

I changed the subject before either of us could get a chance to get annoyed. “Do you like dogs, Ari?”

“I love dogs.”

“Me too. They don’t have to wear shoes.”

He laughed, his throaty surprised laugh. I loved making him laugh (either intentionally or unintentionally; it didn’t matter to me as long as I was able to chase the sadness out of his eyes).

“I’m going to ask my dad if he’ll get me a dog.” I’d been thinking about it a lot, and I thought I was ready to put Ringo’s memory to rest.

“What kind of dog do you want?”

“I don’t know. One that comes from the shelter. You know, one of those dogs that someone’s thrown away.”

“Yeah, but how will you know which one to pick? There’s a lot of dogs at the shelter. And they all want to be saved.”

“It’s because people are so mean. They throw dogs away like they’re trash. I hate that.”

Then, we heard a loud pffft noise and rustling and boys yelling across the street. There were three boys and two were holding BB guns. I looked up and saw the trail of smoke, then smelled it. One boy was pointing his gun at a tree. “We got one! We got one!” his voice echoed. I realized that they’d killed a bird and were aiming to kill another. And then something fierce and furious inside of me burst open.

I leapt from the porch and ran over to them before I even realized what I was doing. “Hey! Stop that! What the hell’s wrong with you?” I wanted to grab the gun from them but stuck my hand out instead. “Give me that gun.” They were younger and smaller than me, but harder. My heart was thrashing and my right calf muscles were shaky with involuntary spasms but I wasn’t going to let it show to these heartless assholes.

One of the boys sized me up and said, “My ass if I’m gonna give you my BB gun.”

“It’s against the law.”

With one part of my brain I was staring at the boys and trying to make sure they stopped what they were doing. The other part of my brain was trying to figure out if we could still save the bird they’d shot. Could my dad bring it to the vet? I saw its rigid form, its tiny upturned legs, the puncture in the middle of its beautiful white and brown markings and thought crazily Maybe there’s still a chance.

“Second amendment,” the boy said.

“Yeah, second amendment,” his idiotic crony repeated.

“The second amendment doesn’t apply to BB guns, you jerk. And besides, guns aren’t allowed on city property.”

“What are planning to do about it, you piece of shit?”

“I’m going to make you stop.”

“How?”

One of the boys took a step toward me and spit on the ground. My body was already coursing with adrenaline and anger but then I got a sudden stab of fear in my belly. They had guns. The logical side of my brain tried to assure myself that I couldn’t die from a BB gun bullet. But it would still hurt like hell if they shot me. Or kicked me or punched me. Or any combination of all three.

“By kicking your skinny little asses all the way to the Mexican border.”

Ari said that, not me. I turned my head and he was right there next to me. I hadn’t realized he’d crossed the street until that very second, that’s how fixated I’d been on stopping the bird killers.

Ari knew how to fight. I didn’t. I’d seen it that very first day I met him but it almost felt like I’d been witnessing a dream or an apparition of him since he had never showed me that other part of him since that day. But here was that other Ari, tough as nails and mean as hell. I could almost smell it on him, how willing he was to beat the crap out of these kids without a moment’s hesitation, the way you can smell a coming thunderstorm. He eyed them down hard. One of the boys raised his gun like he was about to shoot it at us.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, you little piece of dog shit,” Ari said in this new voice that was menacing and low and slow as molasses. And then like lightning he reached out and grabbed the gun right out of the boy’s hand. “You’re lucky I don’t shove this up your ass.”

He threw the gun on the ground. It made such a loud clattering noise that I winced, momentarily afraid that he’d accidentally caused it to fire.

The boys also flinched at the noise and the shock of what he’d just done. I thought for sure they’d jump us. But then the fight deflated out of them and they left, cussing us out under their breaths as they went.

We watched them walk away. Ari’s fists stayed clenched and his shoulders stayed hunched until they were well down the block. Ari and I looked at each other. I felt like the wind had just got knocked out of me.

“I didn’t know you liked to fight,” I said. Though this wasn’t entirely true. I knew he could hold his own. I didn’t know that a willingness to fight was hovering just below the surface, ready to bolt into violent action at a moment’s notice.

“I don’t really. Not really,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said. “You like to fight.”

“Maybe I do,” he said. “And I didn’t know you were a pacifist.”

“Maybe I’m not a pacifist. Maybe I just think you need a good reason to go around killing birds.” I looked at him. His jaw was still clenched and his breathing was a little heavy. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to hug him. Or maybe I wanted him to hug me. “You’re good at tossing around bad words, too.”

“Yeah, well, Dante, let’s not tell your mom.”

“We won’t tell yours either.”

He looked at me. “I have a theory about why moms are so strict.”

“It’s because they love us, Ari.”

“That’s part of it. The other part of it is that they want us to stay boys forever.”

“Yeah, I think that would make my mom happy—if I was a boy forever.”

I looked at the bird again. I knew it was dead this time. I don’t know why I thought a few minutes ago I’d be able to save it, like I was a saint or Jesus or God. I hated those boys who killed it. I hated how careless and callous they were about wiping out such a beautiful, harmless creature without so much as a second thought. And then leaving it there like just another piece of trash on the side of the road.

“I’ve never seen you that mad,” Ari said.

“I’ve never seen you that mad, either.”

Neither of us spoke. We both just looked at the bird. I felt for a second like the bird was fluttering inside my chest, banging its fragile body against my throat and wildly flapping its wings like it was trying to escape out of a cage. But then I realized I was just trying to keep myself from crying in front of Ari.

“It’s just a little sparrow,” I said. I felt so sad and small, so useless and weak. I felt the tears coming hot and fast down my cheeks. I turned my face away from Ari.

Boys don’t cry Boys don’t cry Boys don’t cry

I hated that. I hated how ashamed I was that I couldn’t stop crying. I walked back across the street and Ari followed me. He didn’t say anything. I threw my shoes at the ground as hard as I could. That made me feel a little bit better. I sat back down on the porch and wiped my eyes.

“Were you scared?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“I was.”

“So?”

So? What did it mean that I was scared and Ari wasn’t? That Ari could defend himself in a fight and I couldn’t? That I was crying and he wasn’t? I’d made up my mind a while ago that I didn’t want to be ashamed of who I was. I told myself that it’s ok to cry. Crying feels good. Crying helps ease the crushing feeling inside before it gets to be too much to bear. But however irrational and stupid it was, I still felt like I’d failed a test.

We didn’t talk for another few minutes. I was going through in my head everything I could remember about sparrows. Most types that live in Texas don’t migrate in the summer months. They stay here year-round. They mostly eat seeds and insects. There are at least 35 species of sparrow. I wondered if the bird they killed was a boy or girl. I didn’t know why I wondered that.

Ari broke the silence and asked, “Why do birds exist, anyway?”

“You don’t know?”

“I guess I don’t.”

“Birds exist to teach us things about the sky.”

“You believe that?”

“Yes.”

By studying birds, humans had figured out how to build airplanes. Now we could easily traverse the globe, pick up and move far away from our original homes. Families could scatter like seeds on the wind. I pictured in my head maps I’d seen of different migratory patterns of birds across North America: the Pacific Flyaway, Central Flyaway, Mississippi Flyaway, Atlantic Flyaway. Birds migrate to go in search of better nourishment and to increase their chance of survival. My parents left their families for probably similar reasons.

I thought: fly away home, as free as a bird, empty nest, as the crow flies, swan song, wild goose chase, night owl, ugly duckling, odd duck, chicken out, the early bird catches the worm, take under your wing, kill two birds with one stone.

I took a deep breath. “Will you help me bury the bird?” I asked.

“Sure.”

We got a shovel out of the garage. Ari picked up the bird with it and brought it over to my yard. We dug a hole under an oleander and buried the bird there.

I started crying again. This time, I was thinking of when we’d buried Ringo. I still missed him so much. The ache was raw and wide open. Maybe I wasn’t ready to ask for another dog just yet. Or maybe this meant I was ready. My brain was too full to think clearly.

I was also thinking about how beautiful the oleander flowers were and how that made me happy despite the sadness I still felt because of the bird. The blossoms were pink and showy and fragrant. I wanted to pluck one and put it behind my ear. But I couldn’t.

I was thinking how I’ll never fit in anywhere because I’m a migratory bird with no real home to return to.

We stared at the bird’s grave for a little while in silence.

“Thanks,” I said finally.

“Sure,” Ari said.

I was suddenly so tired. I wanted nothing more than to fall right asleep and wake up tomorrow morning to a bird trilling on my windowsill like nothing today had ever happened. But I knew that was as impossible as me bringing the sparrow back to life after the boys shot it.

“Hey,” Ari whispered. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“We’ll go swimming,” I said.

“Yeah, we’ll go swimming.”

I went inside. Neither of my parents were home, which was a bit unusual. I took a hot shower and then fell asleep.

When I woke up, my room was dark and I was confused. I saw that I’d only been asleep for a few hours, but I felt like I had been out cold for days. I felt better, though, so I went downstairs. My dad was finishing up making dinner. I hugged both my parents for a long time. I didn’t tell them about the bird but I didn’t need to.

That night, during dinner, my parents told me they had big news. My dad was in the process of final interviews for a visiting professor position in Chicago and we’d know in a week or so whether or not he’d gotten the job. The minute they told me, I burst into tears.

[laylawolfwind]

Would you tell us more about the story of the birds along your walks?

You bet your ass I can cause it’s still something I am trying to figure out and maybe some peeps can help me out. So sit down and listen to my story of how I think I accidentally brought some kind of cryptid/spirit/demon home with me.So I lived north of Timmins (Ontario) for most of my childhood and I was always surrounded by nature, I was always outside and we had lots of trails I could wander on endlessly and my mom never really cared where I went only that I took my bear mace and was home before dark.When I was about 10 I found a dead crow on one of my walks. It was laying in the middle of the trail I was walking on that went to a hunting camp so I scooped it up (I thought it was sad just laying there in the sun) took it to a shady little spot slightly off the trail and was gonna leave it there. I was super into mythology at the time and remembered a coin was required to pay the toll of Charon the ferryman. So I ran home, grabbed a handful of foreign coins from my coin collection and hauled ass back to the bird. I left the coins on the bird (one on each partially outstretched wing, three on the body and one in the beak) and picked some chicory flowers to lay around the body. Then I carried on my merry way and thought nothing else of it.After that I started finding more birds. They were always slightly off the path, or in the backyard under a bush, or somewhere not quite in my path yet I always managed to spot them. I started taking them to the same place, a little patch of particularly mossy and damp land that a creek split around making a little island but the creek wasn’t much I could step right over it to get to this spot. It had big trees and a fence cut through the middle (a deer got stuck trying to jump it once, I had to go get my step dad to put it down though because by the time I found it it’s belly was all opened and it was almost dead already) BUT ANYWAYS I used to bring my birds I found there. Random flowers would be laid with it, and random foreign coins. If it’s any significance the coins were mostly European of some sort and the flowers usually chicory or ditch lily. I think the lilies were technically tiger lilies? We called them ditch lilies lol. But I would always bring them here as it wasn’t far from my home. I moved out at 16 and moved to Kingston to live with my dad.As usual, a dead bird popped up on the driveway. Mom scooped it up with the shovel and tossed it in a garbage bag. That’s when stuff started happening at home.Mom found one of the chickens up in a tree, a branch stuck right through it pinning it to the tree 7-8ft up the trunk. The creek I mentioned before went absolutely rancid. Everyone assumed somewhere upstream either the beavers mucked something up or something big died and was spoiling the water because all the fish, frogs and life just disappeared. No more herons, cattails were just dead reeds. Some scary shit. The fiddle heads stopped growing across the road when they used to grow for 2-3 months past their usual season. Purple Loosestrife took over EVERYTHING. Choked out all the lilies and chicory and other flowers. A tree fucking fell on the house, huge cherry tree. She started losing chickens in the night (she assumed it was raccoons), she started hearing screaming and my step dad shrugged it off and told her “rabbits scream when they die, a coyote must’ve got one” plus she had a scary encounter with raccoons showing rabies symptoms twice. Animal control scooped them away she didn’t hear much from it but they’d start dropping those rabbies vaccine pellets more often. She started sending my little brothers out with walkie talkies and they had to check in every 30min and couldn’t go out of the walkie talkie range alone. She was feeling it. She knew something was up but I never really told her about the birds so I guess it’s kinda my fault?Plus I left home on bad terms so I had no contact with her and knew NOTHING about all this happening until we started patching things up. I went up to visit for two weeks and a bird hit the window while I was walking to the house. I scooped it into the garden and did some visiting before I told her I wanted to go explore the old trails I really missed nature from living in the city. She made me take a walkie talkie and told me the rules and I laughed, I thought she was just paranoid.So I take the bird to it’s usual spot (it was a boat tailed grackle) and the usual ritual takes place. I had a few quarters and there were some flowering strawberry plants so I made due. The moss was dried up, the creek smelt disgusting, but the trees were still relatively healthy. Not covered in boils like the ones in moms backyard anyways. I sat for a moment with the bird, and saw one of the old coins on the ground and like a goddamn idiot….. I picked it up and put it in my pocket. I went back to mums, had a good visit, heard of all the plights of the local area with wide eyes, and went home a few weeks later.Mom tells me the Purple Loosestrife barely came back after a particularly tough winter and the fiddle heads were there for harvest time come spring. Her chickens are healthy, raccoons are being normal little pests but only mucking with the compost. The boys still have to take walkie talkies lol.And here I am, finding dead birds almost everyday and too fucking scared to take this coin out of my pocket and I take it with me everywhere. It’s harder to take the birds to a specific location so now I just leave a coin or two on the birds body. If no one is looking I will try and move it to a grassy patch but it’s the city and there are always people watching. I also take a feather from each bird and I intend to take the pile of feathers to the grassy patch nears moms next time I visit.I did run onto the road once between traffic to grab a chickadee, I walked past it but felt nauseous down the road and turned around. I found a robin on the side of the road royally screwed up but still alive and sat with it in my hands till it died telling it of all the lovely things it will see in the summer if it gets better. I laid that one to rest in a random garden since it was 6am and no one would see me. Idk I have lots of “I found a dead bird” stories and I feel people shouldn’t have this many “I found a dead bird” stories lmao.It’s not so much crows and starlings now it’s pigeons and small songbirds. But still, I keep a tally and since January 1st I have found 15 dead birds wherever I go.So there you are anon, a not-so-brief telling of my uncanny ability to find dead birds thanks to some kind of……. non-human?