#mama buzzard

[mirrorfangz]

Looney Tunes doodles uwu

[ben-the-hyena]

So in that new toddler show called Bugs Bunny Builders (which I don't see as "canon" to usual Looney Tunes shenanigans because it is way too cute and kind so it's like a canon AU to me) not only did they give Mama Buzzard A NAME AT LAST, BRENDA BUZZARD IT IS, they also gave her a 5th chick, a girl named Bizzy Buzzard

She is adorable even if I suppose in the normal cartoon continuity she would be less innocent or cute, but since she is the newest addition and since I said in my previous post I imagine Brenda and Joe who are technically not even exes because they were just a one time fling there is still a notable attraction as he keeps trying to impress her and as annoyed as she is really she is charmed. They do like each other

So one day they got close again enough to make a 5th kid so Bizzy is the child of the reunification lmao

[sleepy-stories]

[blackwoolncrown]

Reading list for Afro-Herbalism:

A Healing Grove: African Tree Remedies and Rituals for the Body and Spirit by Stephanie Rose Bird

Affrilachia: Poems by Frank X Walker

African American Medicine in Washington, D.C.: Healing the Capital During the Civil War Era by Heather Butts

African American Midwifery in the South: Dialogues of Birth, Race, and Memory by Gertrude Jacinta Fraser

African American Slave Medicine: Herbal and Non-Herbal Treatments by Herbert Covey

African Ethnobotany in the Americas edited by Robert Voeks and John Rashford

Africanisms in the Gullah Dialect by Lorenzo Dow Turner

Africans and Native Americans: The Language of Race and the Evolution of Red-Black Peoples by Jack Forbes

African Medicine: A Complete Guide to Yoruba Healing Science and African Herbal Remedies by Dr. Tariq M. Sawandi, PhD

Afro-Vegan: Farm-Fresh, African, Caribbean, and Southern Flavors Remixed by Bryant Terry

Barracoon: The Story of the Last “Black Cargo” by Zora Neale Hurston

Big Mama’s Back in the Kitchen by Charlene Johnson

Big Mama’s Old Black Pot by Ethel Dixon

Black Belief: Folk Beliefs of Blacks in America and West Africa by Henry H. Mitchell

Black Diamonds, Vol. 1 No. 1 and Vol. 1 Nos. 2–3 edited by Edward J. Cabbell

Black Faces, White Spaces: Reimagining the Relationship of African Americans to the Great Outdoors by Carolyn Finney

Black Food Geographies: Race, Self-Reliance, and Food Access in Washington, D.C. by Ashanté M. Reese

Black Indian Slave Narratives edited by Patrick Minges

Black Magic: Religion and the African American Conjuring Tradition by Yvonne P. Chireau

Black Nature: Four Centuries of African American Nature Poetry edited by Camille T. Dungy

Blacks in Appalachia edited by William Turner and Edward J. Cabbell

Caribbean Vegan: Meat-Free, Egg-Free, Dairy-Free Authentic Island Cuisine for Every Occasion by Taymer Mason

Dreams of Africa in Alabama: The Slave Ship Clotilda and the Story of the Last Africans Brought to America by Sylviane Diouf

Faith, Health, and Healing in African American Life by Emilie Townes and Stephanie Y. Mitchem

Farming While Black: Soul Fire Farm’s Practical Guide to Liberation on the Land by Leah Penniman

Folk Wisdom and Mother Wit: John Lee – An African American Herbal Healer by John Lee and Arvilla Payne-Jackson

Four Seasons of Mojo: An Herbal Guide to Natural Living by Stephanie Rose Bird

Freedom Farmers: Agricultural Resistance and the Black Freedom Movement by Monica White

Fruits of the Harvest: Recipes to Celebrate Kwanzaa and Other Holidays by Eric Copage

George Washington Carver by Tonya Bolden

George Washington Carver: In His Own Words edited by Gary Kremer

God, Dr. Buzzard, and the Bolito Man: A Saltwater Geechee Talks About Life on Sapelo Island, Georgia by Cornelia Bailey

Gone Home: Race and Roots through Appalachia by Karida Brown

Ethno-Botany of the Black Americans by William Ed Grime

Gullah Cuisine: By Land and by Sea by Charlotte Jenkins and William Baldwin

Gullah Culture in America by Emory Shaw Campbell and Wilbur Cross

Gullah/Geechee: Africa’s Seeds in the Winds of the Diaspora-St. Helena’s Serenity by Queen Quet Marquetta Goodwine

High on the Hog: A Culinary Journey from Africa to America by Jessica Harris and Maya Angelou

Homecoming: The Story of African-American Farmers by Charlene Gilbert

Hoodoo Medicine: Gullah Herbal Remedies by Faith Mitchell

Jambalaya: The Natural Woman’s Book of Personal Charms and Practical Rituals by Luisah Teish

Just Medicine: A Cure for Racial Inequality in American Health Care by Dayna Bowen Matthew

Leaves of Green: A Handbook of Herbal Remedies by Maude E. Scott

Like a Weaving: References and Resources on Black Appalachians by Edward J. Cabbell

Listen to Me Good: The Story of an Alabama Midwife by Margaret Charles Smith and Linda Janet Holmes

Making Gullah: A History of Sapelo Islanders, Race, and the American Imagination by Melissa Cooper

Mandy’s Favorite Louisiana Recipes by Natalie V. Scott

Medical Apartheid: The Dark History of Medical Experimentation on Black Americans from Colonial Times to the Present by Harriet Washington

Mojo Workin’: The Old African American Hoodoo System by Katrina Hazzard-Donald

Motherwit: An Alabama Midwife’s Story by Onnie Lee Logan as told to Katherine Clark

My Bag Was Always Packed: The Life and Times of a Virginia Midwife by Claudine Curry Smith and Mildred Hopkins Baker Roberson

My Face Is Black Is True: Callie House and the Struggle for Ex-Slave Reparations by Mary Frances Berry

My Grandmother's Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies by Resmaa Menakem

On Her Own Ground: The Life and Times of Madam C.J. Walker by A'Lelia Bundles

Papa Jim’s Herbal Magic Workbook by Papa Jim

Places for the Spirit: Traditional African American Gardens by Vaughn Sills (Photographer), Hilton Als (Foreword), Lowry Pei (Introduction)

Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome by Dr. Joy DeGruy

Rooted in the Earth: Reclaiming the African American Environmental Heritage by Diane Glave

Rufus Estes’ Good Things to Eat: The First Cookbook by an African-American Chef by Rufus Estes

Secret Doctors: Ethnomedicine of African Americans by Wonda Fontenot

Sex, Sickness, and Slavery: Illness in the Antebellum South by Marli Weiner with Mayzie Hough

Slavery’s Exiles: The Story of the American Maroons by Sylviane Diouf

Soul Food: The Surprising Story of an American Cuisine, One Plate at a Time by Adrian Miller

Spirituality and the Black Helping Tradition in Social Work by Elmer P. Martin Jr. and Joanne Mitchell Martin

Sticks, Stones, Roots & Bones: Hoodoo, Mojo & Conjuring with Herbs by Stephanie Rose Bird

The African-American Heritage Cookbook: Traditional Recipes and Fond Remembrances from Alabama’s Renowned Tuskegee Institute by Carolyn Quick Tillery

The Black Family Reunion Cookbook (Recipes and Food Memories from the National Council of Negro Women) edited by Libby Clark

The Conjure Woman and Other Conjure Tales by Charles Chesnutt

The Home Place: Memoirs of a Colored Man’s Love Affair with Nature by J. Drew Lanham

The Jemima Code: Two Centuries of African American Cookbooks by Toni Tipton-Martin

The President’s Kitchen Cabinet: The Story of the African Americans Who Have Fed Our First Families, from the Washingtons to the Obamas by Adrian Miller

The Taste of Country Cooking: The 30th Anniversary Edition of a Great Classic Southern Cookbook by Edna Lewis

The Tuskegee Syphilis Study: An Insiders’ Account of the Shocking Medical Experiment Conducted by Government Doctors Against African American Men by Fred D. Gray

Trace: Memory, History, Race, and the American Landscape by Lauret E. Savoy

Vegan Soul Kitchen: Fresh, Healthy, and Creative African-American Cuisine by Bryant Terry

Vibration Cooking: Or, The Travel Notes of a Geechee Girl by Vertamae Smart-Grosvenor

Voodoo and Hoodoo: The Craft as Revealed by Traditional Practitioners by Jim Haskins

When Roots Die: Endangered Traditions on the Sea Islands by Patricia Jones-Jackson

Working Conjure: A Guide to Hoodoo Folk Magic by Hoodoo Sen Moise

Working the Roots: Over 400 Years of Traditional African American Healing by Michelle Lee

Wurkn Dem Rootz: Ancestral Hoodoo by Medicine Man

Zora Neale Hurston: Folklore, Memoirs, and Other Writings: Mules and Men, Tell My Horse, Dust Tracks on a Road, Selected Articles by Zora Neale Hurston

The Ways of Herbalism in the African World with Olatokunboh Obasi MSc, RH (webinar via The American Herbalists Guild)

[beanstroni]

Okay Tim Drake lovers.

We’re making a Batfam fic board.

Tim-centered.

I’ll add my faves here with a couple notes.

Y’all, the comments section is free. Fill ‘er up!

Tim-joins-late-Fics

- How to Accidentally Acquire A Brother by 172

!!UNFINISHED!! Last update in 2022. I’m so sad.

Tim and Jason centric.

I have so much love for this one. The soft growth Jason shows. Tim getting love but being so afraid. Ugh. Tim’s relationships with Ivy and Babs and Jason and aaaaggghhh

- A Backstitch in Time (series) by Megaerakles

Beautiful idiots. On the shorter side, each installment is a new POV.

Timetravel!!!

- The Buzzard (series) by FlightL3ss_Bird1029

I’m not as sure how I feel about this one.

One finished work, others actively updating.

- Dizzy Edges by @jojosquires

!!Unfinished!! Actively updating.

Timetravel! Speedsters being introduced! Soft Jason! Soft Dami! CASS!!!

- Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night by britishparty

I’d say !!unfinished!! Warning still applies.

Two finished works, but the story is not… conclusive? Concluded?

Deathstroke takes and trains Tim Drake.

Tim and Jason centric second story.

- cards on the table by mgootd

Holy COW have I mentioned I love Tim joins late fics because I LOVE Tim joins late fics.

Tim as a fortune teller, knowing the Wayne’s secrets but staying Out Of It™️. Drake turned street brat.

Tim, Jason, Steph are probably the biggest figures here.

Actually finished. It’s beautiful.

- Tim Drake’s Photo Album (series) by mgootd

My heart. This may be my favorite finished work. And yes, I WILL forever refer to Tim as “bug” now. Thank you, Jason.

I can’t wait to see what else gets added to this series!

- 1-800-GOTHAM by goldfishinabag

!!UNFINISHED!! But updating regularly.

Holy. Cow. This is beautiful. The personalities at play. The Batfam interactions. Yes. Please.

- The Drakes’ Spoiled Brat by @batfambrainrotbeloved / yellow_sprouts on AO3

!!UNFINISHED!! Updating regularly.

First off, this one. If you read none of the others, this one.

Thank you for leading me back into the ways of TRUE Batfam brainrot (*cough cough* beloved).

On the edge of my seat for the next chapter on this.

Batfam Miscellaneous

- Cor et Cerebrum by @audreycritter

All well over 600K words are straight up golden.

This is the one of the only OC heavy fics I’ve truly fallen for, and Kiran Devabhaktuni is such a MOOD.

The Batfam takes are PHENOMENAL. The interpersonal relationships, the trauma dealings, the whole thing. 10/10.

- Undercover and Undercover:Gotham by InvalidStuff

Batkids working together for each other. Every time. BatDad is STRONG. Cuteness overload. Fluff in the sense that punching someone for your siblings is the fluffiest feeling ever.

- Mama Bird (but its your big brother ready to fight god) by @batfambrainrotbeloved / yellow_sprouts on AO3

!!UNFINISHED!!

Batboys protecting batboys.

Disclaimer: Abusive Batman. (At least hyped on fear toxin, hinted at more regularly so far, but unsure.)

- How Rare and Beautiful It Is to Even Exist by popsummer

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27766969

Cassie’s POV. Tim’s funeral.

I cry every time and have read it at least 4 times.

Update: I have now read the rest of the series and they all HURT but worth it.

[leiawritesstories]

queen's crown

rowaelin + kiddos // written for April microfics @throneofglassmicrofics using the prompt "Crown"

word count: 725

warnings: none :)

enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Staghorn Crown of Terrasen sat atop its emerald-green velvet pillow, the gold spires that resembled antlers jutting proudly up into the still, silent air of the throne room. At its center, the kingsflame bloom encased in crystal seemed almost to glow, the scarlet and crimson and orange of its petals radiating warmth and light.

The princess rose onto her tiptoes and fixed her wide-eyed gaze upon the crown, the pedestal just barely taller than her head. At the sound of footsteps entering the throne room, she startled, and her elbow knocked into the pedestal as she wobbled, trying to keep her balance.

She stared, her wonder turning to horror, as the crown tipped off of its cushion and tumbled towards the floor.

But a swift, wintry wind brushed through the throne room, caught the crown, and deposited it neatly back on its cushion, its tendrils wrapping carefully around the princess as she wobbled on the steps.

"Are you alright, little love?" Her father's voice, her father's wind.

Six-year-old Alanna Whitethorn Galathynius felt her lower lip shiver as the tears slowly spilled out of her eyes, the same bright pine as her father's. In an instant, her father was there, scooping her up into his arms, soothing her.

"I--I almost broke Mama's crown," Lana half-sobbed, burying her face in her dada's warm shoulder.

"Shh, little love, it's alright." Rowan carried Lana back to her rooms, where her mother was waiting, concern on her face. He kissed the top of his daughter's blonde head. "You know Mama and I would never let anything happen to you, Lana."

She sniffled. "I sorry, Mama."

Aelin took her daughter from her mate's arms, giving him a brief, tender look. "Lana, lovey, you mean so much more to me than that silly old crown." She cupped the little girl's face, meeting Lana's teary gaze with her own steady one. "Were you trying to see Mama's crown?"

Lana nodded. "Auntie El said you used to try and see it all the time when you were my age."

A distant, yearning smile slipped across Aelin's face. "That was...a very long time ago. I'm surprised she remembers." When she was a child, Aelin had often slipped into the throne room to stare at the crown from a distance, a memory she'd almost forgotten until her daughter brought it up.

Calming, Lana touched the bracelet that curled around Aelin's wrist, a smaller version of the crown with golden prongs like antlers. An everyday crown. "It matches."

"Yes, it does." Aelin kissed Lana's forehead. "Do you want to go see the crown, lovey?"

Lana's big green eyes lit up. "Yes!"

"Alright, then." Aelin stood up and took Lana's hand, and with Rowan at her back, ever the hovering buzzard, she led her daughter down to the throne room. Together, they walked across the quiet, shadowed expanse of the room, its soft darkness broken by the sunlight that streamed in through the arched windows along the walls.

At the front of the throne room, she lifted the crown's cushion off the pedestal, slowly knelt down in front of her daughter with a flicker of a grimace of discomfort, and set the cushion on the ground. Lana's expression widened with wonder as she clung to her mother's hand and stared at the crown.

Rowan knelt next to Aelin, concern creasing his face. "Are you sure you should be--"

"I'm fine, you overbearing buzzard," she sighed, one hand drifting to her very rounded stomach.

A tiny mirror of her father, Lana pressed both of her small hands to Aelin's bump. "Mama, baby?"

"Baby is just fine, lovey," Aelin promised. Gently, reverently, she lifted the crown from its cushion and raised it into the shaft of sunlight, causing light to radiate off of the kingsflame bloom. As her daughter and her mate watched, she carefully lowered it onto her head, feeling its familiar weight settle over her.

Lana stared raptly. "Mama so pretty," she murmured.

Aelin smiled as she lifted the crown off her head. "One day, my daughter, this will be yours." Lana held very still as Aelin placed the crown atop her small head, holding it in place so it didn't slip down the princess's face.

And the Queen of Terrasen looked at the future queen, her heart full to bursting at the sight of her family.

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@aelinschild

@renxzs

[goddess-aelin]

Hide And Seek

Day 19 of Rowaelin Month: A day with the kids

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none other than this is unedited and not at all coherent because I wrote it in the dead of night 😂

Aelin watched over her book as her daughter’s blond curls bounced by for the third time. Aelin lounged on the settee near the small, personal, library, romance novel in hand and a glass of iced tea by her side. These were the moments that Aelin lived for: the quiet times where she could take a breath, only interrupted by her daughter’s sweet giggles.

Only, she had no idea what her daughter was actually doing. Alma’s little feet pattered across the wooden floors, quieting as she receded down the hallway and getting louder as she came nearer. The three year old’s cycle seemed to last a few minutes, a ceasing of her footsteps entirely as she ran into the other room.

Aelin was just about to get up and see what exactly Alma was doing in the other room when a muffled “psst,” sounded from nearby. Aelin’s head swiveled, looking for the source of the sound. Her gaze landed on a cracked door to what she assumed was a supply closet considering its position in the middle of the hallway. As she got closer to the door, a familiar tattooed hand pulled her into the dimly lit room.

“Rowan! What are you–.” The rest of her sentence was muffled by a hand over her mouth.

“Shhhh! You’ll give us away!”

Aelin went to bite his fingers, still over her mouth, but Rowan always had a mind for exactly what she was thinking. He pulled his hand away just in time, glaring at her slightly.

“And what, pray tell, am I giving away exactly?” Aelin tried to school a bored tone to her voice but amusement still leaked through.

“Alma and I are playing hide and seek. I’m hiding, she’s seeking.”

“Rowan, you’re playing against a three year old. She’s never going to find you if you’re hiding in here with the door closed.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “She will. Our daughter is very smart. She has the mind of a future queen.”

Now it was Aelin’s turn to roll her eyes. “Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. She’s three.” Even if Aelin was half-joking (her daughter was, indeed, very smart in her opinion), she couldn’t help but get caught on Rowan’s words: our daughter. Even years after the end of the war, after their second wedding, after having a baby together…sometimes it didn’t seem real. That she was here with her family, that she got to have all of this…that she deserved all of this.

Rowan, the perceptive buzzard, was again able to immediately tell where her thoughts went. “This is real, Fireheart.” His hands came up to cup both of her cheeks, the calluses of his palms a grounding comfort against the softness of her cheeks. “We are here. And we are hiding from our daughter, who we get to love every damn day. It’s real.”

Aelin could’ve sobbed. How he knew her so well, she’d never know. But she was certainly grateful for him. “Thanks, Buzzard.” She gently pulled him toward her, placing a gentle peck on his lips, a kiss that was over before it really started. Just as she was about to go back in for a more hearty kiss, the door was yanked open. Aelin pushed herself away from Rowan, as if they were getting caught by a parent for making out in a closet.

“I found you, papa!” Alma was giggling, her blonde curls bouncing up and down with her movements. “And mama! You’re here, too! I’s found you!”

Aelin swooped down to her little menace, picking her up and snuggling her in her arms. “You found us, little sunshine.”

A feline smile crossed over Alma’s features, looking a little too similar to Aelin’s own expressions. “I fink you guys were kissin’ in here.” Alma put her hands over her mouth and snickered.

Aelin glanced to Rowan, who was already looking back at her with eyebrows raised. “And who told you that?”

“Uncle Moon!” Aelin couldn’t help her chuckle at her child’s nickname for Fenrys. Alma heard him use his full name once and never let it go. “Uncle Fen” was less common than “Uncle Moon,” or “Moon Moon.”

“Well what if we were kissing in here? Huh, sunshine? What then?”

Alma crinkled her little nose, “YUCK! Mama and Papa no kiss!”

Aelin could feel her face mirroring Alma’s earlier expression. “And what if we give kisses to….” Aelin made a good show of thinking about her next words. “...ALMA!” At her words, Aelin peppered kisses all over Alma’s face, Rowan joining in from her other side. Her daughter’s sweet giggles would never get old. The girl didn’t calm down until they all emerged from the closet. Aelin’s cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.

As they made their way back to their rooms, Alma gasped and looked right into Aelin’s eyes. “Mama, ice cream?”

“Hmm…I’m not sure. It’s pretty late already. Someone has to go to bed soon.”

Alma pouted slightly, her lip doing its job well. Aelin was about to give in when the little stinker turned her pout on her father. As their matching green eyes met, Rowan took one look at the pouty lip and was done for.

Aelin laughed as her husband sighed. “Fine, we can go get some ice cream.”

Alma bounced up and down, trying to escape Aelin’s grasp. She ran ahead of her parents, who just shared a look of both happiness and knowing they both had been played by a three year old. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tagging:

@cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @mariaofdoranelle @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127 @tothestarsandwhateverend @highqueenofelfhame

[fallenclan]

Buzzardcry Fic

By Dragon Anon

Buzzard couldn't help but feel a pang of annoyance as Kestrel practically glued herself to his side, shorter pelt ruffling his own. Still, Buzzard chose not to comment on it, knowing his sister was only seeking some form of comfort, since Vulture didn't seem keen to offer any.

"Where are we even going?" Buzzard demanded, hating the way his voice took on an almost whine-like quality. 

"The mountains."

Buzzard blinked in surprise. This was the first real answer Vulture had given them in days. "Why?"

" . . . " 

Buzzard sighed. Evidently, his mother was returning to her silent brooding. "What are mountains like?" Kestrel whispered, her muzzle brushing against Buzzard's cheek.

"I don't know. Tall?" Kestrel frowned. Hating the saddened look in his sister's eye, Buzzard hurriedly continued, "But it'll be a new sort of adventure for us to find out."

"Really?" Kestrel's gaze brightened. She loved stories about adventures. Vulture used to tell all kinds of stories, before Falcon had died.

"Yeah. Don't you worry, Kes. It'll be fun."

"Okay." Kestrel smiled, vacant gaze becoming more focused. "I like adventures."

"I know, Kes. I know."

***

"We have to cross this?" Buzzard hissed, gawking at the river Vulture had pointed out. Its waters were moving at relatively slow pace, but the way they sloshed against the stepping stones Vulture had instructed them to use made Buzzard's stomach flip. 

"Don't complain. Watch what I do, and copy me," Vulture replied briskly. With allowing further room for debate, Vulture leapt forward, pouncing from stone to stone with the skill of a mink hopping through the snow. 

Buzzard remained rooted to his spot on the river's bank opposite of Vulture. "Don't worry, Buzz," Kestrel chirped. "See how easy Mama made it look? We can do this!"

"I don't-" Before Buzzard could finish, Kestrel had already begun to leap from stone to stone. She had almost made it when---

SPLASH. She had mis-stepped, flailing wildly for a few moments before landing in the river with a tiny shriek. "Kestrel!" Buzzard yowled, racing along the riverbank. "Kestrel?!"

After several moments of wild searching, Kestrel's head resurfaced. Buzzard dove towards his sister, paddling fiercely against the river's current. His limbs seemed to howl in protest, struggling to move in the direction he wanted them to, until finally, finally...

Buzzard latched on to Kestrel's scruff, swimming the rest of the way across the river and collapsing against the far riverbank. Kestrel was trembling violently and coughing. Buzzard was silent, inhaling and exhaling deeply through his nose.

Vulture watched with wide eyes from a few paces away.

She hadn't even moved a paw since Kestrel had fallen.

***

"Mama?! Mama, get up!" Buzzard hissed, heart beating wildly against his chest. It wasn't fair, she couldn't leave them now, they had almost made it to the mountain!

Vulture wheezed, throat torn open after a vicious tussle with a vixen. The fox had tried to take off with Kestrel, and before Buzzard could even react, Vulture had flown after the vixen. 

Kestrel's nape was bleeding badly and her eyes were wide like two pale moons. "Go--" Vulture gasped, legs spasming as she fought to get up. "--the mountain. She said---she said she would come here if--" 

"What are you talking about? Mama?" Buzzard demanded, blinking furiously to try and force back the sob threatening to escape his chest. 

"Find Cedar---she---" Vulture let out a final, wretched gasp, and fell still.

All that was left was the scent of blood, and the ragged breathing of her kits.

***

Buzzard lay still. He had no energy left to move, or to call for help. They had made it to the mountain, and for what? Kestrel was gone, unable to fight off the infection that grew within her bite wound. 

Now Buzzard was alone.

He didn't know how long he had been laying there when a soft, frantic voice spoke: "Stars above! Little one, are you all right?" A spotted black cat with a distinctly white chest was peering down at him. Vaguely, her pelt reminded Buzzard of a magpie.

"Don't worry, I'm going to bring you somewhere safe and get you all healed up, okay? Stars, you're skinny... I'll get you some prey to eat, too."

Buzzard didn't respond, glaring at the unknown cat. Leave me alone, he wanted to screech. He remained quiet, even as her felt her teeth sink into his scruff, lifting him up as if he were a kit and she his mother. 

He had stopped being a kit a long time ago.

***

"It's a good thing Eris found you when xe did. You're lucky to be alive," Shrewscratch murmured, brows furrowed deeply. "You said your name was Buzzard?"

"Yeah." Buzzard flattened his ears. It appeared as though every cat in FallenClan had something to say to him. 

"Well, she and Cedarberry have offered to look after you for now. You're too young to be on your own. Once you're old enough, you can decide if you want to stay or not."

Buzzard scowled for a few moments before freezing. "Cedarberry?"

"Do you... know her?" Shrewscratch tilted her head.

"Not really." After that, Buzzard stopped speaking, not wanting to entertain conversation any longer. 

***

"Did you know a cat named Vulture?" Cedarberry's eyes widened at Buzzard's question, her mouth opening slightly in shock.

"I--yes, I did, once upon a time. Why, d'you know her?"

"She was my mama. She told me to find you." Buzzard eyed Cedarberry accusingly. Who was this cat, that Vulture had trusted so deeply?

Cedarberry sighed, glancing at Eris, who was listening with a placid expression. "Vulture an' I were friends a long time ago. We, uh, made a promise to look after each other, if anythin' ever went wrong. I used to dream about livin' in these mountains. Talked her ear off about it, actually. I didn't think she was actually listenin' to what I was sayin."

"Why did she never mention you until--" Buzzard winced. "Until right before she died?"

"Things didn't end well between us," Cedarberry replied wistfully. "She was a strong cat, but a stubborn one too. I'm sorry to hear 'bout her passin'."

" . . . " Buzzard glared at his paws.

Clearing her throat, Eris mrrowed, "Why don't we go set up a nest in the nursery? Ain't many cats in there right now. We can use any sort of bedding you like, okay?"

" . . . okay."

***

"Please please please please please?" Palekit was practically jumping up and down, little paws batting at Buzzardcry's side. "It isn't fair! You know tons of battle moves! Can't you just teach us one?"

"Yeah!" Darkkit whined. "We wanna be strong like you!"

"You'll be apprentices in a moon." Buzzardcry gently shook Palekit off of himself. "You can learn all the battle moves you want then."

"Noooooo," Palekit collapsed dramatically, acting as though he'd struck her.

"Boo!" Darkkit stuck out his tongue as well. Nearby, Eris and Cedarberry were both chuckling. 

Buzzardcry shook his head. Kestrel had always been so timid, so gentle. Nothing at all like Palekit and Darkkit, who always seemed to be yowling about this or that and running whirlwinds around camp. 

"Don't be botherin' your big brother too much, kiddos. He's got adult cat stuff to do, too," Cedarberry rumbled, amusement radiating from her whole body,

Unbidden, Buzzardcry felt a tiny smile sneak its way onto his features. "Actually, I think I have time to show you one battle move..."

"Yes!"

"...if both of you agree to help clean out the elders' den later. I'm sure Cliffpaw and Inkypaw would be greatly appreciative."

"What!" Palekit exclaimed, eyes widening in disbelief. "But only apprentices clean out the elders' den!"

"Only apprentices learn battle moves, too," Eris piped up, chuckling.

As Palekit begin to squabble with Eris about what constitued as "apprentice duties," Buzzardcry could only purr contentedly.

Somewhere, he hoped Kestrel was watching. Buzzardcry had been given a second chance to be a big brother, and he wasn't going to squander it for anything in the world.

-🐉

(dedicated to the several individuals who agreed that a buzzardcry fic would be interesting! i'm sure buzzardcry will continue to have fun sibling times with paledawn and darkpaw and that nothing bad will happen ever... smiling in an evil and autistic way)

(beetle note: ok this one made me lose my mind a little. i was at work when i read it and i just KNEW i had to use it as inspiration for today's warmup. big brother buzzard :(((( side note i especially love the "pouncing from stone to stone with the skill of a mink hopping through the snow" line, it envokes such vivid imagery)

[deprivedmusicaljunkie]

my favorite lyric from each song off of hozier (self-titled)

“if i’m a pagan of the good times / my lover’s the sunlight” - take me to church

“the sweet heat of her breath in my mouth i’m alive” - angel of small death and the codeine scene

“happy to lie back, watch it burn and rust / we tried the world, good god, it wasn’t for us” - jackie and wilson

“how pure, how sweet the love, aretha, that you would pray for him?” - someone new

“baby, we should run away / oh, someday / our baby and her mama and the damaged love she made” - to be alone

“no tired sigh, no rolling eyes, no irony / no ‘who cares’, no vacant stares, no time for me” - from eden

“they’ll find us in a week / when the buzzards get loud / after the insects have made their claim / after the foxes have known our taste / after the raven has had its say / i’ll be home with you” - in a week

“darling, don’t you join in / you’re supposed to drag me away from it” - sedated

“in the low lamp light, i was free / heaven and hell were words to me” - work song

“i would not ask you why you were creeping / in some sad way, i already know” - like real people do

“i want you baby, try to show as you’re born / you’ll hear me howling outside your door” - it will come back

“still my heart is heavy with the hate of some other man’s beliefs” - foreigner’s god

“her fight and fury’s fiery / oh, but she loves like sleep to the freezing” - cherry wine

[tomtenadia]

Our first Beltaine

Hello all,

Here is my first fic for Aelin’s week. It’s set a decade after the end of KOA. Rowaelin have a daughter and it’s the girl’s first fire festival and she gets to play with her growing powers.

It’s just pure domestic fluff, silliness and Rowan being the usual amazing dad. I wrote this in an hour, hope you will like it.

@rowaelinscourt​

The castle was all adorned and ready for celebrations.

It was Beltaine and since the end of the war, the Queen and King of Terrasen had made an effort to bring back all the ancient festivities of the land.

Beltaine marked the end of the darkness and the arrival of the long days, of life triumphing over the darkness of winter. After the years under Adarlan rule, the citizens of Terrasen had embraced such celebration with open arms and rejoiced at their freedom. Light over darkness.      

The castle had been opened to all citizens and the extensive yard was full of vendors and booths with sellers and performers.The main attraction, however, was in the royal garden were bonfires had been prepared for the revellers. A few fire wielders were slowly stoking the flames to allow the participants to jump across the bonfires as tradition. Couple would leap the fires to ask a blessing for their union to the gods or people would just just for good luck. It was a celebration of life and people would start arriving on the royal grounds as soon as the night started to fall.

Aelin and Rowan were in their royal chambers and were getting ready for the festivities. That night it was a special one for them. It was their daughter’s first Beltaine. Aisling was six. Until the year before they had kept her away from the fires but that year they had decided to finally allow their daughter to join. Aisling had just started showing signs of magic. It was very early for a child, but given who her parents were, no one had any doubts that the girl might be a skilled magic wielder. The girl had inherited both of her parents powers and they had just started training her in controlling her gifts. So far the biggest incident had been her freezing the entire castle after getting frustrated with one of her toys. Rowan had ran to her quickly enough and stopped the glacial wave that had descended on the castle.  

“Look at you, your tunic is almost regal.”

Rowan looked at his wife and raised an eye brow. He had worn a nicer green tunic for the festivities, but nothing compared to the stuffed ones that he hated but had to wear for annoying courtly stuff.

“This will allow me to enjoy the evening without feeling stiff.”

Aelin smirked and walked towards him, her hands brushing his chest “and much easier to peel off later on, for our own personal celebrations.”

Rowan was about to add something, when the soft patter of Aisling’s feet reached their ears.

“Mama, dada, I ready!”

The little girl was wearing a green dress with a puffy skirt, a crown of kingsflames on her silver-haired head and a set of wings on her back. 

Aelin turned and ran to her daughter “my love, you look beautiful.”

Aisling turned around to show off her dress and then bowed to both.

Rowan went to pick up his daughter in his arms and spun her around as she was properly flying “did auntie Lys help you dress up?”

“Yes. Am I pretty dad?”

Rowan smacked a kiss on her cheek “you and your mum are the two most beautiful ladies around here.” The girl giggled happily and snuck against her father. 

“Now we need to wait for your mum to finish dressing up. She is not as organised as the two of us.”

Aelin, who was getting ready in a corner of the room, complained loudly “I heard you, buzzard. You’ll pay for this.”

Rowan let out a low chuckle and placed Aisling back on the floor and she scurried away. When she came back, the little girl was carrying a simple tiara and passed it to her father “for you, dada.”

Rowan kneeled in front of her and lowered his head so that she could place the item on his head “now you are pretty too.”

A loud laugh escaped his lungs and when Aelin emerged he stood and turned to her “What do you think, wife? Am I pretty too?”

Aelin tried not to laugh “Our girl definitely has more taste than you when it comes to dressing up.”    

He moved closer and playfully nipped her neck in provocation and Aelin hummed happily.

“You will be happy to know that I am finally ready.”

Aelin was wearing a simple red velvet dress with a squared neck and long sleeves, her hair up in an intricate fashion with a few kingsfklames tucked in it.

Rowan stared at his wife transfixed. No matter that they had been together for almost a decade, she would still take his breath away. 

“You are stunning, fireheart.”

In response, Aelin kissed the corner of his mouth “you are not too bad yourself, my king.” And with those words she planted a kiss on his mouth with the promise of more that night.

“Mama, dada, no kissy.”

At their daughter’s words they pulled apart and Rowan went to take her hand, followed then by Aelin and eventually they left the room, ready to join the festivities.

As they walked out and reached the yard, people stopped to bow to the queen and king and Rowan stood up straight, not afraid of showing up in public with a girl’s tiara. It was a gift from his daughter and he would not break her heart for the sake of his pride. 

They walked in the main area for the festivities and Aelin took the centre stage to make the usual speech that would officially open the festivities. Rowan moved at the side and picked up Aisling in his arms.

“My dear citizens, I welcome you all to another blessed Beltaine. This one is, for my husband and I, a special one. It’s our daughter’s first official Beltaine and we are both very excited.” She kissed the girl “Now, please have fun and be merry and let’s all celebrate the arrival of the longer days.” With a flick of her hand she fed the flames that burst up high in powerful blazes that lit up the evening. Then she brought her power back in control and the bonfires dimmed down and back under control of the fire wielders.

When she turned she noticed her daughter’s pine green eyes fixed on the flames in amazement “pretty.”

Aisling squirmed in her father’s arms and Rowan let her down but still keep a hold of her fearing she might snuck out to play with the bonfires. Her magic was still very unpredictable and he was terrified of what might happen if she got too happy near a fire.

“Come on, my love, let’s go and get some food first.”

Rowan passed Aisling to Aelin and stood in his corner admiring the evening.

Somehow his mind brought back the memory of the first Beltaine with Aelin in Mistward. When he was still training her. When she was still a brat that drove him crazy each single day. But that night when she burnt out was also the night that brought them a step closer. It had been when he had seen the scars, when she told him about Endovier. When for a brief instant she let him. He was so deep in his thought that he did not notice his two women coming back with a few plates full of food.

Rowan laughed and grabbed some, then he sat down and they followed. The grass was fresh and smelled alive beneath them.

“Here we go, buzzard, I have meat on a stick for you. I asked Emrys to prepare some for tonight especially for you and it seems to be successful.”

Rowan grinned and took some of the food Aelin was passing him.

Aisling sat between them and happily chomped away at the food that the cook had prepared especially for the kids. Her stare never left the bonfires as if she she was attracted to it.

“We are jumping too, let’s have dinner first.”

The little girl beamed at her father.

Having the king and queen to join the festivities and seat in the grass like all the other citizens was a common sight in Orynth. There were always some guards discreetly posted around the grounds, but both Aelin and Rowan had made clear from the start that at events like these they wanted to be free to celebrate together with their citizens. It had taken a lot of convincing but in the end the captain of the guard had yielded at their request. Rowan had also added that he was more than capable to protect his wife and daughter on his own if needed. Aelin had teased him by calling a protective brute. But when it came to Aelin and Aisling’s safety, Rowan never joked.

Once the family was fed, Rowan stood and grabbed Aisling “Come on, time to jump.”

Aelin stood too and Aisling jumped in excitement.

They found a bonfire a bit far away and once the last couple jumped, Aelin asked the fire wielder to move away. The fire died down and Aisling turned upset “mama, fire.”    

Aelin sat down on the grass beside her daughter and Rowan did the same.

“I’ll show you.” Aelin extended her hand over the logs and a flame sparked up, dancing gently.

“You try now, like mama showed you.” She added, extinguishing the flames with a simple flick of her hand.

Aisling placed both of her small hands above the logs and scrunched her face hard in concentration. In those instant she looked exactly like Rowan and her heart skipped a beat at the image.

“I can’t.”

“Remember what mama told you?”

The little girl nodded. Aelin had been training her with her fire magic and Rowan helped with her ice and wind magic.

The girl kept concentrating, until a small flame popped up timidly.

“That’s it, baby.”

Rowan placed a hand on his daughter’s back as support and in that instant the flame grew a little bigger until it slowly engulfed the logs.

Aelin smacked a proud kiss on her daughter’s cheek “You are my little fire wielder, my love.”

Rowan pulled Aisling closer and kissed her silver hair “our little fireheart.”

The three stared at the flames dance placidly, swaying at the gentle rhythm of the wind that Rowan was blowing around them.

“I did it.” At the burst of joy, the flames sparked up high, but Aelin was ready to take back control in an instant “Shall we jump now?”

“Yes!”

The three stood, with Aisling between them, each holding one hand.

Aelin controlled the flames to a safe height and then they stepped back a few steps.

“Ready?” Asked Rowan.

He counted and at three they started running and jumped, both parents lifting an elated Aisling above the flames.

Aelin whopped happily as she landed.

Aisling let go of the hands and ran back to the bonfire “Again?”

Rowan turned and saw happiness in his wife’s face “again, fireheart?” He asked while offering his hand to her.

As a family they jumped a few more times.

Celebrating life.

Celebrating light over darkness and while jumping they whispered to the ancient gods the promise that bound their souls together.

To whatever end.                

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity  @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98  @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love  @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127

[ben-the-hyena]

Y'ALL REMEMBER THIS DREAM I HAD ONE YEAR AGO ?

Well during my hiatus out of NOWHERE I had another dream taking place in the SAME HC continuity. One year ago I had a dream that had the black feathered one be the brother of Beaky's mom and the brown one be Beaky's dad who has just a fling with her, and for being useless parasitic hunters she had kicked out both. Hence why they starve and also why they don't look like friends even before trying to eat each other, as if they were stuck together

In it, it made sense. The 2 buzzards obviously are fake friends (aside frol the fact despair and hunger have them try to eat each other, they have no hesitation or regret and are happy to try to do so it's not tragic as it would be if they liked each other, and even before resorting to canibalism they obviously did not like to share abd fought and argued) and were most likely stuck together. Well the dream established they are in laws. The brown one, Joe, had a fling with Mama Buzzard (and making sense she is taller and buffier given she is a female bird of prey !) which resulted in her hatchlings among thel Beaky. She is kinda pissed that got her gravid since he is not a mate she selected for being well an actual mate, and sees Joe is a terrible hunter so doesn't want to include him in the family not to influence badly her "killers" given how much of a loser he is to her (and ironically Beaky is kinda like him) so he doesnt get to see his kids often

But at the same time she kicked him out, she kicked out her brother, the Jimmy Durante-like black feathered vulture, who was a parasite lying around ib her nest who was hypocritically criticizing him (as well as kind of protective glaring at him like "SO YOU GOT MY SISTER GRAVID...") and ecnouraging her to kick him away while he was just as useless as him in the nest life. So both found themselves alone together that way because she wants excellence and doesnt want to feed 2 adults or badly influence her more capable kids, hence why they are starving and trying to eat each other now. She didn't cut ties either, she tolerates them occasionnally

Well it was weird, like a HC I never made myself but my brain thought of while sleeping, and it was silly enough. Plus in that first dream logic, there was no explanation why her Jimmy Durante-like bro had an American accent and she an Eastern European one, so I figured cartoon logic since unlike him she is menacing and a capable huntress

BUT during my hiatus I had another dream taking place in that universe ! (Animaniacs have both Looney Tunes and Hanna Barbera in the same world. HB also has MGM cartoons. So they all make sense to be in the same universe !)

It is foggier, but I dinstinctly remember the 2 guys trying in vain to hunt, and the Durante one chilling with his sister in a nest a day they could tolerate each other and it seemed like for once Joe was with his kids. And that dream GAVE an explanation why the siblings have a different accent ! Both come from Eastern Europe and Durante-like buzzard just has a better ear than her and mimicked the way he heard the local accent. HOWEVER the dream established that despite him having a very very good level to the point you can think he is American, there is a few modern slang he takes literally. Cues him wanting to say that so far he and Joe are happy, so he says, chilling "yeah Joe and I are gay" and his sister SPITS OUT HER DRINK. She still sees from his face and knowing him something must be wrong so she holds in a laughter and begins trolling him and ask questions which out of context are hilarious and he doesnt even realize and anzwers with assurance... until the end he realizes "HEY" and she laughs her ass off

And only a few days later I HAD ANOTHER

And this one depicted Joe STILL into her and struggling between trying to survive, see his kids he wants to see as not very responsible as he is, and trying to awkwardly win her back despite how they never were more than a fling because he likes them tall and buff like her (and as much as she denies it and calls him everything she is not unsensitive about it), all under his in-law uncaring eye

It was weird how in one year I had THREE dreams of a same headcanon a dream had created and not my own conscious self, and developped it more than I would !

It used to be a side thought, now I really headcanon it XD

[sleepy-stories]

[softguarnere]

Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter 34: Zenie Uwenvsv Dayesi

Summary: Hadn’t she thought, back when Gene took her to the church to get the shrapnel out of her arm, that she had seen her sister? And hadn’t Gene, looking at photographs with her in a foxhole, acted strangely upon seeing the one of Marilyn? A/N: Sorry for missing last week's update! A lot of stuff was going on in my personal life, but I managed to pull through 💪🏽 But honestly, this worked out better anyway. Today marks one year since I posted the first chapter of this fic 🥳 A massive thank you to everyone who has read it, and an even bigger thank you to the friends who encouraged me to share it 🤗 Wado! The chapter title translates to "Zenie is going home." Which seems appropriate, considering where this fic started last year, and where today's chapter will take her Warnings: smoking, language, bad father figures Taglist: @latibvles @liebgotts-lovergirl @dcyllom @ithinkabouttzu @mads-weasley @mrs-murder-daddy @lieutenant-speirs

North Carolina, 1945

Dust billows up in clouds along the road every time a vehicle passes, churning it up in their wake as they speed past. Zenie has gotten good about turning her head, holding her breath, covering her mouth, but the combination of dirt and diesel fumes mixing in the heat of the summer day cannot be escaped. Unless she were to accept a ride, that is, and that is not happening.

Zenie had made up her mind on the ship. The plan had been to go visit Mama and let her know that Zenie was okay before heading up to Clinchco. Wherever Shifty is, he can catch up. Zenie will just wait for him in North Carolina, and then he can come and whisk her away to their new life together. (She tells herself that, anyway, because repeating this over and over in her head was better than giving into full-blown panic in the middle of the ocean.)

She donned her uniform as the ship pulled into the harbor up north, and she’s been wearing it the whole journey down south. It just seemed safer. And so far, it has been. Because of it, people enthusiastically shake her hand, thank her for her service, and offer her rides – something they definitely wouldn’t be inclined to do if they knew the truth.

The walk gives her time to think, but that only seems to lead to worry. About Shifty, about what will happen when she gets home, about her friends and the rest of the war.

Distracting herself becomes easier the closer she gets to home. As the landscape begins rolling out in waves of mountains before her, blue and shining in the summer sun, she tries to recall every story that Granny ever told her. The story about the mountains was always one of her favorites; they were formed from the buzzard’s wing touching the first drops of wet mud used in creating the surface of the earth, the indentions left by his feathers making the mountains and valleys. She’ll have to remember that one when her friends come to visit. They know why the mountains are blue – they should know how the mountains got here in the first place.

In the evening, the humidity grows oppressive, and the mountains are stained deep blue and made hazy as the day’s end stretches out. It’s still hot when Zenie reaches her house, though the sun is starting to set already. Sweat trickles down her neck and onto her uniform collar as she makes her way up the hill, finds a hiding place amongst the tree line, and waits.

Heat lightning flashes distant over the western mountain tops. As usual, the heat of the day is forcing the clouds to gather, but no one can ever be sure if a storm will hit or not. Sometimes they just dissipate, fizzle out, with nothing more than some ominous gray streaks in the night sky that obscure the stars.

The lights spilling out the kitchen window illuminate the inside of the house, though it’s not very dark outside. Zenie can make out multiple people milling about the kitchen, though she’s too far away to tell who they are. If Shifty were here, he could probably describe each one of them in perfect detail. After all, he was the one who spotted a tank disguised as a tree from a mile away.

Her heart tightens at the thought of him. They should be doing this together – walking up to the house arm in arm, he in his uniform, and she in her wedding dress to announce the happy news. Instead, she’s back in her own disguise, and just as alone as the day she left this place.

There’s no sense delaying any longer. Zenie straightens her uniform, grabs her bag, and sets off down the road.

She sneaks around the side of the house. She doesn’t know who’s in the kitchen. But they looked busy. Maybe she can just slip in through the back door, up the stairs to her old room, and stay there.

Mercifully, the door does not creak when Zenie twists the knob and slowly, slowly, begins to push it open. She doesn’t open it very far, opting instead to slip through the crack like a mouse stealing away into its hidey hole. It shuts quietly behind her, too. She’s turning back around and is about to take the first step when she’s forced to stop short.

Her mother stands before her, frozen, eyes and mouth wide.

They stare at each other for a minute in disbelief. The only sounds are those coming out of the kitchen, chatter and the clanging of silverware as the table is set.

“Zena?” Mama finally asks.  

“Mama!” The word isn’t even fully out of her mouth before she’s rushing forward, into her mother’s arms, which are open and waiting. She buries her face in Mama’s shoulder, like she’s a little girl again. She isn’t sure what to say. “I’m home.”

Mama lets out a wet sounding gasp that could either be a sob or a laugh. She breaks the embrace only to cup Zenie’s cheeks in her palms, holding her face, getting a look at her in her uniform. “Yes, you are.”

“Hey, Mama, do you know where the – “ Footsteps stop abruptly as Matthew and his sentence both come to a halt. Mama steps aside, allowing Zenie to see her brother for the first time in years. Except the version of her brother that stands before her is slack jawed and has eyes as wide as saucers; this isn’t the cool and confident Matthew who never lost his footing. Her brother looks like he’s seen a ghost.

Zenie stands tall in her uniform. Her brother was in the Air Corps; he’ll know the importance of the jump wings proudly displayed on her chest. “Well, are we just going to stand here, or are you going to give me a hug?”

The answer is that they hug. They’re quick to close the distance between them, but Zenie still notices that Matthew limps as he comes towards her – the product of his accident with the plane the year before. Their father also limps. Matthew has always been so determined to be nothing like him, but now there’s something more that links them.

There’s no time to think about that, though, because Marilyn appears from the kitchen to see what all the fuss is about, and Danny follows when he hears her cry out in surprise. In the back room of the house, there are many hugs and exclamations of joy and surprise. For the first time in a very long time, the house is full of a noise that is happy. If they could stay in this moment forever, they could pretend that they’re a normal family living normal lives.

But nothing about their circumstances is normal.

Her family ushers Zenie into the kitchen like a celebrity, like a prince. She takes a seat at the table, and Marilyn – her sister, of all people! – fixes a plate for her. Everyone is smiling, glancing at her expectantly, waiting to hear what she has to say for herself. Everyone, that is, except her father, who looks surprised, but scowls, forgotten as everyone’s attention focuses on the wayward child and her unexpected return.

“I got your postcard when I got back to the states,” Marilyn says as she places a cornbread muffin on the plate she’s fixing for Zenie. “Scared the shit out of me! I was worried that maybe you were one of the soldiers at Bastogne.”

“I was.”

“What?! We must have just missed each other, then, because I left the church the day before it got blown up.”

Blown up? Zenie’s hand stills halfway as she reaches for the jar of apple butter in the center of the table. She retracts it, staring at her sister. Hadn’t she thought, back when Gene took her to the church to get the shrapnel out of her arm, that she had seen her sister? And hadn’t Gene, looking at photographs with her in a foxhole, acted strangely upon seeing the one of Marilyn? He must have assumed that her sister had died. And he didn’t tell her.

Probably for the best, part of Zenie reasons, after realizing that she’s not mad at the medic. She was so bad off after Bill and Joe got hit, that thinking she had lost her sister might have destroyed her. When she writes to her friends to tell them she made it home, she’ll make sure to tell Gene that Marilyn is okay.

Mama passes Zenie a glass of sweet tea. “You were in Bastogne? That was during Christmas, wasn’t it?”

“Say, how’d you get a Purple Heart?” Danny interjects. “And – sorry for asking, but someone’s got to clarify – were you disguised as a man the whole time?”

Considering that he’s Bobby’s brother, something about Danny’s question makes Zenie laugh. She takes a sip of her tea to wet her throat, and then, she tells her family her epic tale. The basics, at least. Where she’s been, what she’s done. No one interrupts her when she talks, except to ask a question or two for clarification whenever she pauses to drink some of her tea. They stare at her in shock and awe while she goes on, for quite some time, about the past three years of her life. She’s never been the subject of such rapt attention. Maybe it’s selfish, but she doesn’t want it to end. Except that she has to, because she leaves out the part about her elopement with Shifty – something about her marriage feels like an ace up her sleeve, a card that she won’t play until she has to, to get out of here, just like they planned all the way back in France.

When she’s done, they all stare at her. It takes a moment for them to realize that she’s not going to continue, or maybe for them to process all that they’ve just heard. It’s Matthew who breaks the silence, leaning back in his chair, running a hand through his hair and sighing.

“Zenie,” he breathes. “Good Lord!” Something tugs at his lips, and the next thing she knows, her older brother is smiling at her. “That’s incredible.”

“What an adventure,” Marilyn adds. “I . . . don’t know what to say, really.”

“Wow,” Danny supplies.

For the first time since her arrival, her father speaks. It startles her to realize that he’s still there, that he’s been a part of this moment, which until now, has been pleasant.

“Well, Zena, I hope it was worth it.” He won’t look at her when he speaks. His voice is hollow and cold. “That’s enough adventure for a lifetime, I think.” His eyes flick from his plate to her, only looking at her for a split second. “You won’t be leaving here again.”

She had a feeling it would come to this, but her stomach still ties itself into a knot the moment that she hears his words. Her mouth goes dry as she tries to figure out her next move.

Matthew intervenes. “The fuck does that mean?”

Their father finally looks up from his plate, for good this time, now that his eyes are wide with shock. His mouth is a hard line. He doesn’t scold Matthew for his language the way he would have when they were teenagers. Something tells Zenie that she’s missed something, that they’ve had that fight before, and that her father isn’t keen on having a rematch.

“There are consequences to actions,” he explains. Now he turns to Zenie. “You’ve seen enough of the world.”

“You can’t keep me here.”

“Well I certainly can’t let you out there! How can I explain it – huh? My daughter up and disappears, then returns with short hair and stories about how she fought in the war. You’d make me look like a fool. You’d make all of us look like fools.”

“And what about me?” Zenie asks. “It’s my life. It’s my reputation.”

Her father jabs the tabletop with his pointer finger, punctuating his point. “It’s the family’s reputation. Clearly you didn’t think about that when you went through all this trouble to run away.”

Mama reaches across the table, placing a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. “She can’t just stay in here. Surely, she’ll want to see her friends, or go back to the diner.”

“Not now. Not until her hair has grown back. Maybe then we can claim she was in the WAC, or a nurse, like her sister.”

“I was a soldier,” Zenie interrupts. She straightens her spine, imagines her jump wings gleaming proudly from her chest.

Her father grimaces, scrubs a hand across his face. “You’re a disappointment, talking like that.”

“Dad!” Marilyn gasps.

It’s all Zenie needs. “You can’t keep me in here. I’m an adult, and I’ll do as I please.”

“That’s some big talk, little girl.”

“I’ll leave again,” Zenie threatens.

“And go where? The war is over.”

She plays her ace – the only chance she has. “I’ll go up north and stay with my husband’s family until he comes back from Europe.”

A stunned silence follows. The only sound in the whole house is music from the radio that floats in from the other room.

“What?”

“You heard me.” She sits up straighter still. “I eloped, back in Europe. I’m waiting for my husband to come collect me, and then I’m gone.” She levels her gaze on her father, a sniper catching him in the crosshairs, about to administer the perfect shot. “For good.”

His lips are pressed so tightly together that the skin around them is a deathly white. The room grows more silent still. Her father cannot seem to process this information, and everyone seems to be waiting to see how he will react before they let their own feelings show.

Zenie doesn’t wait. She’s done waiting for people. A squawking sound echoes through the room as she pushes back her chair and heads for the door.

I could leave right now, she thinks. But she doesn’t. She won’t – not yet. Instead, she heads for the fence at the edge of the field, where she met with Bobby for the last time before running away. She leans against it, watching the last of the evening light fade as the soft glow of the moon and the stars begin to appear, offering the world a different, softer illumination. In her hands, another soft glow appears as Zenie lights a cigarette.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” A voice behind her makes her jump. But it’s just Matthew, walking over to join her. His new limp slows him down, but it doesn’t make his gait any less confident, his stature any less tall. When he gets to the fence, he leans against it, pulling out his own carton of cigarettes. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

They stand in silence for a moment, neither sure what to say. Zenie finally breaks it, trying to make a start. “Congratulations on your marriage.”

Matthew smiles around his cigarette. “Shit, kiddo. You, too.” His smile grows, and is it Zenie’s imagination, or does the former high school heartbreaker beside her look almost bashful? “Alice is . . . She’s great. Love of my life, if you can believe that.”

“Where is she?”

Matthew is still looking down at the cigarette between his fingers, and his distant smile tells Zenie that even though his new spouse isn’t here physically, she’s very much present in Matthew’s mind and heart. “Back home, in Wilmington. She, uh, didn’t wanna travel out here, with the new baby, and all.”

“A baby?” Zenie nudges her brother’s shoulder with her own. “Well, congratulations again!”

“Little girl,” Matthew confesses, voice soft with love. He flicks ashes from the end of his cigarette, a darkness passing over his features. Somberness pulls at the corners of his mouth, weighing them down. “We named her Zena. Zena Sophia, after you and my birth mother.” He looks up at her then, for the first time since they began talking. His voice is quiet when he admits, “I thought we lost you, Zee.”

“Oh, Matthew.”

Thank God for the cover of darkness, because even though there’s no one else around, the siblings fall into each other’s arms, and despite Zenie’s best efforts, she feels warmth trickling down her cheeks as her tears escape her. Matthew must be experiencing the same thing, because his shoulders jog as he tries to catch his breath.

He breaks their embrace, running a hand under his eyes to collect his tears. “Sorry. Good God.” He draws a shaky breath.

“It’s okay,” she assures him. Then, trying to lighten the mood, “I bet you’re a great dad.”

Matthew shrugs. “I try to be. I try not to be like . . .” He doesn’t have to finish the sentence. They both automatically glance back at their house.

 “He’s not your father, Matthew. You’re nothing like him.”

“Neither are you, Zenie.”

She blinks. Perhaps he’s right; none of them are anything like him. At least, not that they’re aware of. Right then and there, with her brother’s confidence to guide her, Zenie makes a pledge to herself that she will never be the kind of spouse that her father has been to her mother. Like Shifty said, they have a system for shared work. She will not let their marriage fall into disrepair and misery.

Zena Sophia. Herself, the runaway little sister, and Sophia, Matthew’s late biological mother. Two women who he cared about and lost. The baby is like a living memorial, taking on their names and putting life into them once more. It feels silly to admit now, that Zenie would never have guessed before that she meant that much to her brother.

 “Are you mad?” Zenie asks suddenly, thinking about the baby’s other namesake.

A steady stream of smoke escapes Matthew’s lips before he answers. “Mad? About what?”

“I’ve always heard Granpa and Granma say that they sent you out West to live with us when your parents died because they felt they were too old to properly raise you . . . Don’t you wish they had, so that he wouldn’t have been your father?”

“No,” Matthew answers immediately. He shakes his head as he repeats it. “No. I’m not mad I was sent here. Grateful for it, actually.” He taps ashes from the end of his cigarette again, then looks her straight in the eye. “Because if I hadn’t been sent here, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to be your brother.” He claps her on the shoulder. And then, without further comment, takes a step back toward the house.

That’s enough emotions for tonight, Zenie supposes. Part of her heart feels light with love, knowing that she’s seen her mother again, her siblings, seeing the proof that they cared for her all along. Heaviness fills the other part of it, guilty for ever thinking that she didn’t matter to anyone, and sad at the thought of leaving them again so soon.

“Matthew,” she says, taking quick steps to catch up with him. “Before we leave, give me your new address. I don’t want to lose touch again.”

Matthew’s smile returns, and he slings an arm around her as they continue their walk back to the house. “Of course, usdi agido’i.”

Of course, little sister.

[childlikegoblinqueen]

SCOM Chapter 90 preview : Valhalla, I am coming...

Cuz this one is either going to be long or broken into two parts -- OR it might be a bit late.

Below the veil!

Hunter and Gus swiftly pushed the sofa aside and lifted the rug, Willow drew a spell circle, and out popped three sticks of chalk.  

Willow struggled to kneel on the floor as she drew, but Clover buzzard over quickly, grabbing the chalk in her legs to help.

“You’re staying here with our parents and Lilith,” Hunter murmured to her. 

“EXCUSE ME?” Willow shrieked. Her eyes were aglow with fury. “We’re really doing this again?”

“He’s right!” Gus shot back, “Willow, an hour ago, you were getting winded pouring your tea!” 

“Thistle..” Harvey began. 

“You aren’t going…” Darius shouted from the doorway. His arms were crossed and a thick dark abomination goo had begun to form at his feet. 

“THANK YOU!” Hunter screamed. He reached out for Avery who gave a chuff and shifted to staff form.

“NEITHER ARE YOU!” Darius roared back. His body was now 55 % covered.”I am heading to Bonesborough to meet with Eber, and the Defense team! YOU, civilians, are staying PUT and finishing your daughter’s crib.”

“Okay, mijo … “ Camila began, “As much as I don’t like to agree with el pavo real, he has a point.” 

“Mama, it’s Raine!” Hunter protested, “I can’t let what happened to Lilith happen to them!”

“And where you go, I go!” Willow said firmly. Clover sat skeptically on her shoulder. 

“Darius is right.” Gus whispered. Emmeline sat on his shoulder looking sorrowful.

[incorrectlooneytunesquotes]

Mama Buzzard: Hang on, boys! Your mama's about to enter the state of matrimony! Beaky: Is that the state near Minny-soty?