#so its a cute pigeon tail

[betweenblackberrybranches]

you if you were a bug

(beefly)

tho you also could be this (hummingbird clearwing hawkmoth)

Awawawasasssaa!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!? 💕💗💓💞💖

Thats the biggest compliment ever?!?!? Those are some of my absolute favourites!!! I love beeflies and hawk-moths they are just so osbsodbwzsvspsnshyis creature, yk? Used to watch the hawk-moths in my grans garden when i was small

I give you flower💕💕💕💕💕

[amerricanartwork]

RW Headcanon: Know the Difference! | An Overview of Quetzalli's Slugcats

Here’s a headcanon I’ve wanted to elaborate on for a while, and today I finally felt compelled to make it real! Also, just a disclaimer I am not a huge biology nerd nor have I studied it that heavily, so I apologize if something here doesn’t make sense or if I get something wrong. I just like fantasy worldbuilding from time to time, and I always like trying to make sense of things I’m interested in!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Basically, I’m in the crowd that interprets slugcats as mustelids rather than literal slugs. When I say this, however I don’t mean that slugcats would necessarily be classified in the actual mustelidae family, seeing as Rain World’s world is most-likely not Earth and therefore our taxonomic classifications and phylogenetic relations can’t necessarily apply. Thus, when I call them “mustelids”, I really just mean that I imagine them as some kind of weasel with all the necessary physical traits to earn that general label. 

The first half of the name “slugcat”, in my headcanon, is thus not referring to any literal connection to slugs or other mollusks, but is instead derived simply from their appearance. Due to their long ears and thick tail, and because their fur and fat often squishes together in such a way that it makes their features blend together and their bodies appear more smooth (it’s the same physics as that whole “cats are liquid” idea), the general silhouette of a slugcat can easily be likened to that of a literal slug. The second half of their name is also not literal, and instead refers to their jumping and acrobatic abilities and their skill in hunting and pouncing on small prey, which is very similar to that of small cats.

Species Overview

Now to give a little more detail on slugcats themselves as a species! I headcanon them as small to medium-sized mammals most similar to Earth weasels in both their biology and their ecological niche, who originally served as cute low-maintenance pets for the Ancients and as hunters of small pests in facilities on the ground. They’re clever by nature and good at fitting through tight spaces, and later on they evolved greater jumping abilities to pounce on prey. They’re also very social creatures, who’ve taken to forming medium to large colonies primarily in and around the massive trees that thrive between the cracks in iterators’ rainstorm areas (like the one Gourmand, Survivor, and Monk’s colony lives in). Due to this social nature they also generally travel in groups of at least two, both for company and protection against tougher animals. Travel partners are usually siblings or good friends, and sometimes even whole families will journey out together to find food and other resources for the rest of the colony.

Despite being a small prey animal, slugcats have managed to get by not only due to their intelligence — the evolution of which would be seen as a rather unexpected twist of events if you asked their creators, for the Ancients found them cute but rather simple — but because of their impressive adaptability. It’s similar to that of real life red foxes and pigeons, and it allows them to survive decently well even in less ideal environments; a trait especially necessary for a world as industrialized as this one, even if its people are gone and most of the machinery is inactive. As such not all colonies live in trees; some find homes in the abandoned facilities, large underground hollows, and a few bold colonies have even claimed territories high up in iterator cities alongside scavengers. Slugcats are opportunists and masters at making the best of their surroundings, yet even beyond that they carry a certain other, “special” ability of their own that makes them as diverse as they are clever. But that’s a headcanon for another day…

Reasoning

Now for some out-of-universe explanation for this classification choice. I’ve always seen slugcats as some kind of small scurrying mammal (kind of a bias on my part, I just like mammals honestly, and they’re most familiar to me), mainly due to the way they look and move when on all fours, and their place in the game’s food chain. Originally though I saw them as rodents and compared them to mice and rats, which I still sometimes use for anatomy reference for these creatures. But one day a friend of mine saw me drawing slugcats and thought they were weird ferrets, and the more I thought about it and the more I developed personal speculative biology headcanons for slugcats, the more that label seemed the most fitting for them. It was also solidified when I did a bit more research and realized the main characteristic of rodents is their buck teeth, which just didn’t seem to fit with how I perceived slugcats. Not to mention rodents aren’t really predator animals, and slugcats’ implied natural diet and the gameplay itself does strongly imply if not confirm they have some instinctive hunting ability. 

Thus, it seemed “weasel” was the best classification for these creatures, and I quite like it so far! Once again it satisfies my mammal preference, but I also just think it’s a fun idea that neither part of the “slugcat” name is literal, similar to a lot of real-life creatures named after completely different animals, including fellow weasel, the polecat. Plus, I realized recently it’s kind of ironic with how I perceive the messenger slugcats, Hunter and Spearmaster, as being like hunting or guard dogs for their creators, when weasels are exactly the kind of animal humans with their dogs would normally hunt for! It’s cute, it’s familiar, it’s fun, yet I think it still has just as much potential for some interesting speculative biology ideas as the literal slug slugcat interpretations!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I'm so glad to finally get this out! I like seeing specbio slugcat headcanons in the RW fandom, yet I haven't seen many more in-depth takes from artists who don't take the "slugcats are literal slugs/mollusks/primarily mollusk-based" angle. Not that that's a bad headcanon of course; do what you think feels right! But once again I personally prefer slugcats being mammals, and I always look for fan-content that's as close to my personal preferences as possible. And when I can't find enough of it, I make it myself!

So hopefully this serves as a bit more of that kind of representation for the mustelid slugcat interpretation. It at least helped me develop my own idea of the species a bit more; much of that stuff in the overview part was ideas I came up with while typing this whole headcanon out!

As always, I hope you enjoy this headcanon of mine! I've still got so many ideas to develop and share, and even more coming as I continue to ponder these characters and their stories, so as long as you guys still like these Rain World headcanons of mine, they'll keep coming!

[totally-original-artist]

Hey so uh about the pet au-

I just got the idea that demons can shapeshift a bit to make themselves smaller, bigger, and alter their animalistic features to present as another animal than what they truly are

Nearly all demons nowadays don't show the features they were born with and some will make themselves be an entirely different species just to fuck with their owners even if it isn't good for their biology (they don't get the right food or eat something they shouldn't (but that's super rare in itself and only appears in abusive homes))

If yours begins to trust you they will slowly let their actual features out as a sign of comfortability and some will shift themselves smaller (if it doesn't strain their body) for more cuddles (Mammon and Asmo)

Rehomed

word count: 1.3k

you? read it?? and wrote something?? for me??? 🥺👉👈

Ok but I really like this idea!! Beel being kept as a guard demon! He sees the way other people interact with their pets every morning, hugging and petting them, but his owners try not to touch him too much because of the wings he has. They're disgusted by them and even attempt to paint over it to make it look more 'beautiful', this breaks his heart so much. So Beel tries desperately to look more like a cat or dog, straining his body everyday and holding that appearance for hours. It doesn't take long for him to get ill, his body just can't handle being different from its original state for so long. But Beel still tries to push through, since the only time his owners genuinely smiled at him was when he looked cute. His sickness eventually leads to him being given away.

After you take him in he's still a little weary about turning back, and he doesn't want you to see his 'disgusting' side, so he keeps up the cute cat/dog look. You notice his health is declining and you frantically try to help him get well but you're not sure why he's sick. Beel slowly comes to see just how much you cared for him, he sees that you're terrified you might lose him. One day while you're just about to make a call to the local vet, Beel comes up to you. Curling up into a ball in your lap you see his facade slowly slip away, his animal ears disappearing and his tail too, replaced with a pair of shimmering, insect-like wings. He sighs, finally able to relax after so long and falls asleep against you. He didn't want to see the look on your face, he was too scared for that, but the fact that you didn't push him off immediately probably meant something good. You place a gentle hand on his head and watch him shrink a little to better fit on your lap. You didn't understand why he kept up that look for the past few days but you're glad he felt comfortable enough to be this close to you now.

~~~~~

Also, Lucifer being kept as a show pet for his beautiful black feathers and the gorgeous gem on his forehead but he hates his owners and just turns into a different bird (like say…a common pigeon). He loved seeing the look of shock on their faces, loved it when they whispered to each other about him. He didn't understand anything they said but it was clear it was getting to them and that's all that mattered. Eventually though, the shock turned to anger and he'd be punished; starved, isolated, and taken to multiple vet visits where he'd be poked and probed in an attempt to understand why he was 'acting up. So he'd stop. He'd stay as the beautiful little pet they bought just wishing for them to let him be.

By the time he comes to your home it's been engraved in his head that he had to stay obedient or he'd be punished. You watch as Lucifer behaves like a good little demon at your house. Doing exactly what he's told and even helping you with some small chores here and there. You notice though that he never really formed a bond with you, it felt more like he was some sort of soldier following your orders. One day he messes up, Lucifer feels the end of his shirt get stuck on something on a table and he pulls in an attempt to free it, but the table moves, knocking down the cup of water you had left on it. Lucifer's heart drops, he didn't want to be punished, he'd been so good so far how could he mess up now? He desperately runs and fetches the washcloth and wipes like his life depends on it, hoping that you hadn't heard anything but is quickly disproven. As he hears your footsteps approach he feels his heart race even more, he's terrified of what you might do if you found out he had screwed up but he didn't have time to clean it, so he flees. He runs to the storage room and stuffs himself under an old couch against the wall, his body shrinking to accommodate the space.

All you come back to is the fallen over cup with a wet washcloth next to it and the sound of a door being shut. It takes you a while to figure out what might've happened but once you realize you immediately head over to the storage room to check on Lucifer. You search for a few minutes before discovering a small silhouette under the old couch and find that it's Lucifer. How’d he get in there? It's such a small space. You try to reach for him but he just presses himself against the wall, completely overwhelmed by fear, but you didn't know that. By the time you realize that he wasn't just scared, he was scared of YOU, you could already hear him sniffling and feel crushed. You had caused this, this was your fault, and one way or another you were determined to fix it.

You try to lure him out with food, but you're not sure what his favorite is, Lucifer always ate whatever you gave him. But you wait there with a pizza bun and a small cup of water in hand, hoping he'd come out once he starts feeling hungry but hours pass and he's still stuck. You place both items down and go out for a while, maybe he'd come out to eat when you're not around? But he doesn't. You come back after a few hours to see the food and water untouched and you can't help but feel guilty. Were you really that terrifying? Did he not trust you anymore? Did he ever?

You spend the next hour trying to coax him out with praises and sweet words. Though he doesn't understand you, it's clear from your tone that you mean well, but seeing your hand reaching for him keeps reminding him of all the atrocities he had to endure in his previous home. Eventually you give up, feeling sleepy you decide to just sleep here just to keep an eye on Lucifer. Bringing out a camping mattress you lay down a few feet away from the couch and it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep.

Lucifer hesitantly takes a peek outside and is shocked to see that you're still there. He notices that you're fast asleep. What surprises him even more is seeing a small hot box next to you with a sticky note that had a badly drawn picture of him on it. Deciding he'd probably want a warm meal once he came out you left it there. Lucifer slowly crawls out of his hiding spot, feeling much braver now that you're sleeping. Curiosity gets the best of him and he opens the lunch box, instantly he's hit with a delicious smell. It was a meat dish and still really warm. Having not eaten for most of the day, Lucifer gratefully shoveled it all into his mouth, stopping occasionally when it felt too hot.

Once done with his meal he looks at you. He starts to wonder if you actually did care for him. Maybe he wouldn't be punished after all. You were clearly trying to look out for him, the meal for proof of that, and the fact that you had opted to sleep in this uncomfortably cramped space instead in the comfort of your own room just to stay with him. Lucifer feels himself tear up at the thought of being loved, it seemed like such an impossible concept but all signs led him to believe it, even if it's just a little.

The next day you wake up to a small bundle sleeping by your feet. The demon lay there holding the lunch box to his chest, you watch as he takes steady breaths, sleeping peacefully. You couldn't help the small smile that formed on your face at the sight. Sure the day he fully trusted you was probably far away, but you were more than willing to wait for it.

[danse--macabre]

tirastarion post-canon nonsense:

astarion & tirazel move to the underdark

tirazel adopts a displacer kitten

rationale: we need a guard dog. real reason: it's cute and we don't have enough friends in the underdark.

astarion immediately disapproves. 'that is not a pet, that beast is a bloodthirsty killer'. tirazel laughs at him.

'My darling, you'll always be my number one bloodthirsty killer,' 'I'm being serious!' 'As am I dear. We are keeping it <3'

unspoken: the real reason astarion disapproves is because he doesn't want claw marks on all the soft fabrics in the house.

tirazel, while talented in many areas, loathed all her lessons in music and poetry (and preferred magic and sword-fighting and sneaking out of the house and kissing boys and girls of unsuitable rank in taverns), does not really have much of a knack for artful naming or names, and calls the little displacer beast 'tails.' This is a slight improvement from the discarded options: 'stinky', 'sooty', and 'bitey'.

she still calls it stinky as a term of endearment.

astarion, completely predictably, like every 'dad adopting a dog/cat meme', comes to adore it

he calls it 'the nuisance' at first. this persists for a very long time, even after he has come to respect it.

one day tirazel sees astarion + tails looking worse for wear after a hunt, asks what happens, he explains '*the nusiance* tried to start a fight with a bullette cub'. 'How would you know?' 'I needed to keep an eye on it.' 'Oh did you?' 'It can barely handle pigeons, do you think I would be so irresponsible to let it hunt in the depths alone, [long explanation of why 'the nuisance' is sorely lacking in hunting skills and needs a great deal of monitoring and proper training]'

which astarion gives it. he's the one responsible for its training, he helps it be effective in combat, and this is the long story of how astsrion multiclasses as a ranger.

tails grows up and becomes a far better hunter than astarion. astarion is proud but also annoyed it keeps stealing his kills. however, astarion DOES succeed in getting it to avoid tearing up all the soft furniture in their bedroom, which is a win (it does not sleep in their bedroom, sorry, this was a hard line astarion drew and tirazel had to accept).

eventually he respects it enough to give it a 'proper name'. something like 'midnight' or 'umbra' or something suitably elegant. it does respond to this, however, tirazel still calls it 'tails' and 'stinky' (which it also responds to)

astarion is absolutely the responsible pet parent and tirazel is absolutely 'this is my stinky baby who I spoil with treats and scritches; it is 9ft long has a gigantic bed of pillows and will eat you; it is glorious' parent.

in fairness to tirazel, she actually trained tails in more mundane things like 'do not jump on kitchen surfaces' and 'do not pee here' and 'you can scratch these pillows but not those ones' and 'you canmot eat guests until we say so' and so on. basically, the well-behaved, civilised bits rather than the killing-machine bits.

tails/umbra loves them both :)

[drippingheart]

THE COMPANY OF ANIMALS .

Where traditional culture and the heart of technology clash, quiet and peace are not commodities to be attained. Loneliness however, is as prominent as shadows. Tokyo — a city of noise and air pollution, tin can housing, and needing hearts desiring to connect with anyone. Anything. While Fushiguro Megumi never considered himself to be lonely, he was capable of relating to the feeling of longing. At seven years of age, recognition of blank and pallid stares on the railway was an intimate thing — just as when eyes caught sight of desperation gushing through veins as a high school boy reached out to grasp the hand of a female classmate.

Megumi knew too much as a child. Certainly not the fragile intricacies of human relationships and deep desire, yet it was enough information which enabled him to judge in silence. The city was already overflowing with people, and had it been the boy's choice, he and Tsumiki would be the sole occupants of the city. Wanting another person was a foreign sensation and, frankly, off putting, however yearning the company of something Megumi completely understood.

When stray cats gathered in alleyways, when the honking of taxi cabs disturbed pigeons from the metropolitan perches, even when moths cluttered around a single source of light when sky was pitch . . . he felt that instinctual pull to be part of an animal's life and for they to be a part of his life. Features of a little boy scrunched up in equal disgust when spotting rare displays of affection in public and when being in the receiving end of cute nicknames and head patting from a certain ivory-haired sorcerer.

Happiness, the closest the child could assume he was capable of feeling, bloomed when a dog wagged its tail in his presence. If his crazed guardian actually wanted to do something nice ( ie something Megumi would genuinely appreciate ) why couldn't it be in the form of a pet? Having been begrudgingly fed, clothed, and sheltered by the man, the child surmised he had already been deemed fortunate enough. Megumi was not a selfish child; he would trade being in Gojo Satoru's care for a living cat or dog. With no such thing waiting to be unwrapped for Birthday, Children's Day, or Christmas, he felt compelled to take matters into his own hands.

At seven years of age, Fushiguro Megumi walked with solemn confidence half an hour away from home; it was no difficult feat having traveled much the same as soon as he gained independence to walk alone. The stray cats watched him pass; they knew him well. Megumi counted sixteen on the route and like muscle memory, internally called out each feline's name. Names which Megumi had thought of the first time he met a new cat and memorized it to heart. Lacking any treats to offer the small beasts, he was not compelled to linger any longer than necessary during his trek, and the animals were thankful for that, too.

Megumi did not like picking favourites. The very notion of it felt almost like a betrayal. Every species was unique in their own way, and he was not fortunate enough to encounter every species of animal to even consider having a favourite, so how could be possibly pick just one? He had touched a fair amount of mammals ( of course not enough to satiate his love ), thus was absolutely resolute in touching those creatures which easily took to the skies. Reveling in their freedom. A longing for such freedom was also nestled within the child's heart. Often when one was looking for pigeons in Tokyo it seemed the abundant creature was nowhere to be spotted.

Had old man Tanaka not arrived to feed the animals that afternoon? A surlier pout settled heavy on the boy's face once he stepped foot in the park void of his winged companions. Still, he made the trip and had been painfully determined to make progress today. Feet dragged with iron weight as he maneuvered through the park. His guardian had six eyes and Megumi had a sixth sense, it seemed. Gravitating towards a particular spot, it quickly became apparent why no pigeons littered the ground in the hundreds. Unlike a corvid's loyalty, a single injured pigeon sat in a mess of its own feathers. Speckles of dark crimson stained the concrete, but the amount of blood was not innately alarming.

There was hope. No one had stopped to help. No other pigeons were around. Lonely — how tragic. Megumi still harbored healing scratches from his altercations with the cats he visited, so he knew well about stress and what it did for wild animals. The child approached with tremendous care. Despite the gentility, the pigeon still fluttered uselessly when he approached too closely, but an injured wing made for futile attempts at escape. Zippered jacket was removed and used to cradle the bird carefully with wings tucked, palms nestling wings to torso, and the sleeve of jacket covering the animal's face. Reduce visual and auditory stressors; he had learned that from a video.

Tiny thing was pressed securely against his torso, still within the jacket, as he made the trip back home. One hand was used to keep the pigeon secure against his body as he punched in the code of the front door and entered with the care of an undercover operative. Shoes were toed off at the threshold of the apartment, but before he had the time to slip on his own set of blue house slippers, he was there. Didn't he have Jujutsu work to attend to? Unconsciously, he bundle of injured animal was tucked closer to his torso and emerald hues cut even more sharply. Six eyes and all could sense something was amiss, yet the famed sorcerer approached with a bright grin nonetheless. Perhaps more so at the evidence of Megumi's behaviour.

" Don't tell me. My little Megumi-chan got in a little tussle with a kitty, mm? What 'cha got there? "

Just shy of two metres, the ivory haired sorcerer towered over the child and peeked a startling ominous eye over the rim of dark sunglasses. There was no point hiding anything from the man. Could he see through the material of the jacket? Megumi did not precisely know the limits of the six eyes. Instead, the child's lips curled with distaste as an equally sour huff left him.

── ❛ That was last week. ❜

Hesitantly, Megumi peeled back the flap and sleeve of the jacket, and the visual stimulus prompted the bird to blink and whip its head around. Gojo's lips peeled backwards further, but the child's eyes were too focused on the sight of the injured bird to notice. In contrast to how he petulantly spoke to his guardian, he kept his voice low. For the sake of the pigeon and for the sake of the favour at hand.

── ❛ Can we please help it? . . Please? I don't want it to die. ❜

Pointer finger tip gently nudged the tiny feathers situated at the back of the pigeon's head. Gemstone eyes still captivated at the sight of the animal. The adult straightened up his posture as a " Oh, Megumi. You have such a soft heart. " Reached Megumi's ears. It wasn't a no however, and a gentle hand landing on the child's shoulder encouraged he and the pigeon to enter the depths of the apartment.

[morvantmortuary]

So, this popped up while I was scrolling on Facebook and my first thought went to Jude and Maxi. Hope you're having a good night, babe! 🖤

I hope it's okay that I've been saving this for today!!

So for some reason, I don't know why, but when I first read the headline I thought the gator had escaped from somewhere like a zoo or something

so I could only imagine what had started as a cute little date somewhere had maybe taken a turn when Maxi had brought out the hip flash he keeps in one of his (many!) suit pockets, and they snuck it back and forth between the two of them as they meandered through the habitats and stuff. (Because come on, when was the last time either of them had gotten to go to one of those? Maxi probably hasn't since he was little, bc - perhaps thankfully - his work doesn't overlap with going out to the zoo in the nearest city very much :'D)

But so it's near closing time, and the two of them are hanging out in the reptiles area, and there's one gator in particular that makes Maxi lean over to Jude and whisper "...Hear me out," clinging to his arm through muffled giggles.

All the zoo's security footage would see is a huge winged shadow swooping past the camera, followed by a mostly-humanoid figure in what seemed to be a suit appearing out of seemingly nowhere and doing something that involved flashing light to the habitat locks.

Somewhere later that night, the two of them are freeing the gator from someone's trunk near a local park, where Maxi's like "Go, little buddy! Be free! Return from whence we *hic* came!"

...Or, if the gator somehow ended up in Jersey of his own free will, it could be Maxi specifically sent it like a carrier pigeon as a surprise. Jude happens across it one night when he's out doing Cryptid Stuff, and (upon inspecting it in understandable confusion) finds it's got a ribbon tied around its tail with a Louisiana postcard in a waterproof bag that reads "Just thinking of you! xoxo"

Either way, it's incredibly sweet that you thought of our blorbos, babe. :3 Thanks for letting me noodle around with them a little!

[moonygryffin]

You like dinosaurs. What is your favorite dinosaur and why?

So my favorite is actually the entirety of Columbidae. Rock pigeons, mourning doves, nicobar pigeons, passenger pigeons, dodos, fancy pigeons, I love them all they’re so cute. I think I got attached to them because of the general publics perspective of them as dumb and ugly. They’re very smart and beautiful!! And it’s not street pigeons fault that they’re everywhere, people shouldn’t call them “rats” (unless it’s as a compliment because rats are also very cool), we’re the ones that domesticated them and then abandoned them! I really want to scoop them all up and give them love forever.

My second favorite is also a tie between every hadrosaurid, especially but not limited to those with crests, and every therapod with crests, like Dilophosaurus and Allosaurus. Duck-bills are just so cool., they made music! We can roughly figure out what they sounded like! And they were very good parents and lived in family groups and they had the power and size to fight back. My dream is to have a hadrosaur ranch. For crested theropods, I love them all individually, I have unique reasons for loving each of them. Dilophosaurus is so pretty, a big early Jurassic predator; we have enough fossils to see that they’re crests all had unique features, different sizes, different slopes, amazing. And they were big! I love Jurassic Park, and it helped bring the publics perspective of dinosaurs into a modern time, showing them as living animals instead of slow, dumb lizards, but people don’t realize the Dilophosaurus in it is supposed to be a baby! The “big brothers” refers to bigger Dilophosauruses! Allosaurus is so AHH lol. It’s a survivor, they survived a huge drought until the only thing left to eat were other Allosauruses. Basically every fossil specimen we have has so many healed or healing injuries, especially on their feet to the point we have theories on HOW THEY ATE!! Big Al 2 is one of my favorite individual dinosaurs ever. Carnosaurus has HORNS and could run 35 MPH and had special tail/leg/vertebra adaptations to do so! I once hyperfixated on Carnosaurus and specifically theories related to its mating ritual and when I saw it play out in Prehistoric Planet, I cried. I have a google doc somewhere where I wrote everything I love about Carnotaurus

My third favorite is a tie between literally every other dinosaur, they are all so cool I love them all. Even Sauropods, which I have a fear of because they would definitely eat people like horses eat chicks if they were still alive today

[ennaku-sirri-da]

Hi @spooky-sharko !! I'm answering your s4m ask here because it's my sideblog for everything related to this game

You said:

Hey man so like remember that one time we talked about s4m ponytown pones in the replies of that Habiticians in places they shouldn’t be post? Well I just wanted to show ya some of mine rq!

And you sent:

[ ID: 3 screencaps of Ponytown ponies made out of Smile For Me game characters. The first is Dr. Habit as a short-horned unicorn, and his orange nose is represented as an orange patch mark on his face. He smiles serenely. His screen name holds a smiling emote and sunflowers. Next is Jerafina Tabouli as an unicorn with a happy while drunk, flushed expression on her face. Her screen name holds a wine glass and water drops. Last is Randy Hapukurk as a despondent pegasus with a pickle jar cutie mark. His screen name reads " Pickl boy" in allcaps with a pickle. End ID]

--

My answer: YEAH BRO I remember!!! I just put off replying to it Bcuz procrastination and stress. But it's so sweet of you to reach out again, so here are my ponies as well!!!

Yours are Motherfucking 👌👌👌 CUTE ( OK hand emojis )

Habits nose patch especially!! And I can imagine unicorn Jerafina wreaking Havoc with her spells HEHEJJE MAGICALLY AMPLIFIED BATHROOM KAROKE ANYONE ?!?! ( * Is thinking about how Sweetie Belle sang Hush Now Quiet Now* ) Randy seems like a Melancholic Boy who flies and sighs in the skies, spreading his utterly rancid scent over the heavens~~

Mine arreeee:

[ ID: The first pony is named " mr habbitat" and he is Habit as a unicorn with an orange tipped horn. His hair is rougher and he wears a golden flower earring with a top hat that has a single circling blue stripe, and a tail ribbon. His front hooves are paws. He has sideburns and a small goatee as well. Colors are darker than in-game. The tail is leonine. He smiles sweetly with his tongue out.

The second pony is just him again but in Silly Mode, which is its name. He is totally a black shadow except for open red eyes, an orange snout, blue tongue and the earring.

The third pony is named " B. Habit" in allcaps. He has a softer, rounder look in general with his curled mane and full tail. His mane is in two shades of deeper and duller rose. He too is an unicorn. He has an orange snoutmark and freckles of the same shade. He smiles too widely.

The last pony is "Kam" AKA Kamal Bora as a pegasus. His coat is a deep ocean-blue and hair is more longer and downwards-pointing then in-game. He has a miffed expression. End ID]

I SWEAR IM NOT BIASED /HJ

( Plaintext: I swear I'm not biased /hj )

I have no idea why I made Habit a unicorn here almost every single time when in my MLP AU I always do him as an Earth Pony HWJSJ

But yeah!?! The first one is the one I used most in PT. The third one is like, one modelled after my own former Muppet Habit design. And Kamal pone is more or less based off how I do him in my MLP AU, I made him a pegasus( named Breezy Blossom🫡( salute emoji)) because they have wings, and pigeons have wings, and he reminds me of a startled and always-alert pigeon, city bird too, and like BIRDS AND SHIT MAN it's a WIN

Silly Mode Habit can be used to join the Shadow Pony parties whenever they show up IF YA KNOW THEN YOU KNOW

Also I hope this isn't too forward but would you like to play PonyTown with me sometime!?! You seem chill and like I don't play it much with my friend or my sister anymore so it'd be neat to revisit, but it's just a request LOL

Anyway yyyy

THANK YOU FOR PARTAKING IN PONYS

[ Plain text: Thank you for partaking in ponys ]

[glambots]

When Moon wakes, it’s the afternoon. He seems more mellow than usual, but you’re glad he’s not biting you or anything. You give him a small wave, and he chuffs at you, shaking himself awake.

He’s surprisingly cute when he’s not glaring at you, almost like a very angry cat. He takes a long drink like Sun did, then drags himself up to a rock in the sun, beneath the hole in the ceiling. He then flops down, stretching and rolling onto his stomach to presumably nap some more. You take a photo, and he barely acknowledges you.

You ask him when you can leave, in a joking manner, and he sits up, shaking himself off. Wait, now? Huh. You didn’t know it was that easy. You thank him, though wonder how exactly you’re supposed to leave even with his help.

Moon swims toward you, climbing up to lay next to you. You hesitantly reach to stroke him, and he accepts the affection, purring as you smooth down the spines on his back and tail. Then he does something both disgusting and…unexpected. Though part of it you really should have expected at this point.

Moon makes an odd noise, like coughing, and eventually starts retching. You look away, disgusted, and hear a final cough before a quiet thrill sound, like what Sun does but a little deeper.

Both in Moon’s hand and dripping off his teeth and lips is some sort of odd…syrup, its consistency like that of honey but blue and smelling like rotting meat. You gag, and Moon makes a sound like muffled humming.

You don’t know what it is but you know enough to know you don’t want it near you. You suppose it could be an effort to feed you-You know pigeons can produce something akin to milk from their body fat to feed their babies, so that wouldn’t be entirely out of the realm of possibility, even for a non-mammal. Still doesn’t justify Moon showing you whatever that is, but might explain it.

Moon gestures toward you with it, and you vigorously shake your head. Moon chitters at you, gesturing more insistently. You decide to put your foot down here-No. You’re not going to eat whatever weird sludge he’s trying to provide you, even if by the logic your mind just produced it’s probably kind of taxing to make…And Moon came home empty handed that morning…

You’re about to show your appreciation to him by fetching him a snack, but your thoughts are interrupted by a sound like a rattle full of metal beads. It drowns out…everything…You find yourself dropping back down to sit next to Moon, who looks at you with something akin to sympathy.

You feel you’ll understand soon.

@Moon: Please stop trying to feed me your hairballs, I beg of you. I know you mean well, but please--

[recitedemise]

Rhys has to admit that he's pretty enamored with Tara, the first tressym he's ever met. She sounds so knowledgeable and sophisticated, yet she's also really adorable. Though he wouldn't say it out loud, he's already considered scratching that adorable little face of hers a few times. Rather than staying at camp that night, he goes hunting pigeons, which he has heard are some of her favorite meals. He eventually places all of his kills inside a little box and drops it in front of Gale's tent.

Fore Tara. I oppe she lykes eat. Alongside a cute drawing of the tressym, there is a note full of mistakes.

"I believe these may be yours, Tara." Right. When Gale thinks of gifts, it's often wines or jewelry. This, he grimaces, is decidedly neither.

Tara, emerald eyed and curiosity peaked, moves toward his tent. With intrigue, she paws the coffin. Gale eyes its pigeons, interested more in the note at its side, and he supposes this scuffed up memo is his half of the present. Humbled, he confesses, he doesn't mind.

Hm. "Oh, yes. He's a charming man," Tara purrs, her appraising nose twitching. Sniffing at her dinner, she favors the absolute plumpest, her tail toward the skies as Gale studies the drawing. How interpretive, he glows. "A bit quiet, but delightfully well-spoken in those ways that matter. When you've finished with your journeying, I should hope you'd invite him back home for supper sometime. He's toiled a remarkable deal tending to our 'appetites,' Mr. Dekarios. Do keep your manners about you. We must return the favor."

Gale grins. My, how he'd love to! "I couldn't agree more," he answers with a grin.

[lucius-the-sinful]

WIP Whenever!

I'm continuing the tradition of posting these on Tuesday. Just so everyone knows that I know I could wait another day. I'm just impatient.

As always if you see this post, consider yourself tagged!

hey look at that,,, its another ockiss week wip!! this time with Zafir and his beautiful druid wife, Helvia <3

Writing WIPs below cut! The writing below contains mature themes of sex, drugs, and violence. Specific content warnings are listed before each section in bold.

1- I've been rewriting some of Gale's backstory recently, adding details and making it a little more readable, lol. Here's the part where his father is described, which I'm a bit proud of. Content Warning: child abuse and child neglect

Gale didn’t remember much before the age of nine, other than how his father treated him. He had no siblings growing up, and--outside of birthday parties--he never saw his friends outside of school. This led to him entertaining himself, which usually meant exploring the fairly large house. There were some rooms he wasn’t allowed into, like his father’s, yet he grew a knack for sneaking around--perhaps due to Ace’s over disciplinary style of parenting. Like most children his age, Gale was hyperactive and prone to tantrums. Ace would respond with grounding Gale to his room and, occasionally, corporal punishment.  The Butler, on the other hand, was much more patient with Gale--calmly explaining why Gale couldn’t go into certain parts of the house and never raising his voice. Gale became much more attached to the dragonborn, sometimes interrupting the Butler’s duties. The Butler also encouraged Gale’s creative mind, giving him art supplies on his birthdays and always responded to the child’s drawings positively.  One day, Gale sat in his window sill with one of his notebooks in his lap, trying to keep his hand steady as he tried to draw some of the pigeons sitting on the power lines outside. His tail angrily thumped against the wall when the lines came out wobbly, and they looked nothing at all like his vision. He heard the click of his door knob turning, and he felt the need to hide what he was doing. In a blink, he flipped the notebook closed and his markers scattered across the floor. He felt his heart skip as he looked up to see Ace in the doorway. The man brought a dark shadow with him wherever he stepped. He was tall--like Gale would be one day--with sharp features and dark hair. Black horns formed a broken circle at his temples, and he almost exclusively wore suits--or, at least, Gale never saw him in anything less. The boy didn’t exactly reflect his father’s image. He was pale, with ginger hair and red freckles that dotted his face and body. From the middle of his forearms all the way down to his fingertips, his skin blackened to a dark gray--his feet mirrored this trait. He had a long, pointed tail and short nubs for horns that would grow with him. While Ace’s eyes were a demonic red, Gale’s were a deep violet. He seemed to know he was cute for how he always played innocent around the house keepers, and occasionally the Butler.  Ace was not angry, this time, and instead wore a stoic expression with the slightest hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. Gale knew this look, it usually meant his father wanted something of him. He did well to listen. “I need you downstairs, Galethor,” His father said, his voice not revealing much of his intention.  “Okay,” Gale responded, small.  Ace’s eyes swept across the room and landed on the markers scattered across the floor, he shook his head and turned to leave. “Right now, please.”   “Yes, sir,” Gale let his notebook slide off his lap and onto the window sill, before jumping to his feet and scampering after his father. He wasn’t sure when he stopped calling Ace dad and started calling him sir. It made Ace feel respected, which in turn made him go a little easier on Gale from time to time.

2- This is a part that will be added sometime later but im not quite there yet. Content Warning: Mentions of drugs, drug use (cigarette smoking), dubious consent, violence, violence during sex, strong language, infidelity, blood

Vic had the decency to at least be mediocre at sex, making it easier for Gale to simply go through the motions. Gale was face down, legs spread nearly as Vic pounded from behind. He gripped Gale’s hips with cold hands. Gale tried to find his own pleasure by touching himself, it was difficult to find a rhythm with Vic’s random pace. Gale was brought out of his dissociation when he felt something wet drip onto his back, and a stifled gasp from Vic. The tiefling opened his eyes to peak at the man above him. His cheeks were wet and his whole body trembled.  “Are you fucking crying?” Gale hissed.  This startled Vic into stopping completely. He rolled his shoulders back and looked up. “Sorry. The guilt got to me.”  Gale sat up, removing himself from Vic’s grip. The man was stunned as Gale leaned back against his velvet headboard, he grabbed for his lighter off his nightstand and a cigarette. “Couldn't even finish before you had this earth shattering realization that you're cheating?”  “It's not cheating if I still love her.”  Gale rolled his eyes, his face glowed against the lighter's flame for a moment. “Yeah, well. Keep telling yourself that, I'm sure she would feel really validated by that. Hells.”  Vic glared at Gale. “I don't have to take advice from a whore.”  “It's not advice, babe, just the truth,” Gale blew smoke as spoke. He glanced at his alarm clock, it had only been twenty minutes. He saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, then he was on the floor. Slick blood dripped from his nose onto the carpet, and pain radiated across his entire face. In the dim light, he saw Vic pulling his pants on. Gale picked up the cigarette he dropped, and slumped back against his bed. Blood poured over his lips and into his mouth; he took a long drag.  Vic gathered the rest of his clothes and left wordlessly; Gale flinched when his front door slammed. Shouldn’t have fucking said anything, Gale thought. 

[eduartpaper]

How to Make an Easy Origami Pigeon - Step-by-Step Tutorial

Looking for a fun and rewarding paper-folding project? Check out this easy origami pigeon tutorial! Whether you're a beginner or an experienced folder, you'll love creating this cute and charming bird. With our step-by-step guide, you can learn to fold a pigeon from a single sheet of paper in just a few minutes. Plus, we'll show you how to customize your pigeon with different colors and patterns for a unique and personalized touch.

In this video tutorial, we'll guide you through each fold and crease to create a beautiful origami pigeon. From the pigeon's body and wings to its beak and tail, we'll show you everything you need to know to make a perfect pigeon every time. And with our tips and tricks, you'll be able to create your own variations and designs to make your pigeon stand out.

So why wait? Grab a sheet of paper and get ready to start folding! Check out our origami pigeon tutorial today and discover the fun and satisfaction of creating your own paper birds. Don't forget to share your creations with us on social media using the hashtag #origamipigeon.

Feel free to use this as a template and adjust it as needed for your specific audience or platform.

[adiwriting]

Are you trying to flirt with me?” “Yes. Is it working? For the v day prompts please 😃😃

Because the people asked, here's more to Nerd!Michael / BadBoy!Alex. CW for discussions of child abuse & trauma aftermath (incidence of 1.06 will be discussed)

On a lighter note- here's Isobel's stuffed animal

****

“Are you trying to flirt with me?” Alex asks, trying hard to bite back a smile at the adorable picture Michael paints. He’s not cute. Nothing about this situation is cute. Michael is hurt and it’s all Alex’s fault.

“Yes,” Michael says, the slightest lisp on his s makes it clear that his pain meds are starting to kick in. “Is it working?”

Michael attempts to do some sort of shimmy and Alex has to reach out to hold down his shoulders to get him to stop, terrified that he’s going to fuck up his hand.

Alex has never seen Michael high before last night. He’s pretty sure that Michael has never been high a day in his life. He’s just not that kind of guy, but he learned yesterday that Michael is a mess when he’s high. A loveable, adorable, wreck.

“Your mom gave me very strict instructions when I came in here,” he says, glaring at Michael as he tries to move. “Are you… Is that a stuffed pigeon you’re cuddling?” he asks with a surprised laugh.

“Don’t let the pigeon drive the bus,” Michael says and immediately falls into uncontrollable giggles. Alex bites his lips to keep from laughing himself.

Nothing about this is cute. Nothing.

“What?” is all he can say in response, because he has no idea what he’s talking about.

“It’s Isobel’s,” Michael explains, pulling it out from under him to hold up for Alex to see properly. He presses on its tail and it immediately yells out, “Let me drive the bus!” which only causes Michael to giggle again.

“Oh my god,” he says, unable to stop the chuckle that comes out when Michael presses on the tail again. “Why is it so aggressive?”

“Because he just wants to drive the bus okay?” Michael says, continuing to giggle and Alex can’t help that he begins to laugh as well. Michael’s laugh is contagious. Always has been.

Stop it, he reminds himself, trying to pull it together. He can’t find Michael cute right now. He’s in pain and hurt. He might have permanent damage in his hand.

“Why do you have that?”

“Isobel thought I needed to sleep with it,” Michael explains.

And that sudden reminder of how rough Michael had been last night is enough to suck any of the little joy out of the room.

“And did you? Need it?” he asks, hoping Michael is too high to pick up on the slight waiver in his voice.

“I did.” Michael nods proudly. “Do you want to snuggle with it?”

Alex shakes his head. “No, that thing is terrifying.”

Michael presses the tail again, causing it to yell at them, and Michael erupts into giggles once again. “He’s so cute. How do you not want to snuggle him?”

“You are such a nerd,” he says with a fond roll of his eyes, even though Michael can’t see him in his current position.

“Mmm,” Michael hums happily. “A cute nerd.”

“A high nerd,” he teases.

“You told me you don’t want me to get high ever. Never ever,” Michael says. “Never. Ever. Why do those words sound so weird?”

“Because you’re high,” he says, biting back a laugh. “And that’s not what I said. I told you that I didn’t want you to get high because you thought it’s what I wanted you to do. This is different.”

Michael tries to move again, shifting his weight to roll over and Alex reaches out to place both of his hands on Michael’s bicep, trying to stop him from moving his hand at all. He doesn’t have a cast yet.

He can’t get a cast, not until the swelling goes down. And until then, they have to be incredibly careful. Already, the doctor has said that he’ll need surgery and even with that, there’s risk of permanent nerve damage. The damage done is extensive.

And it’s entirely Alex’s fault.

“Since when do you listen to authority figures?” Michael complains, continuing to attempt to roll over so that he can face Alex, and Alex does his best to stop him, practically laying on top of him to do so.

“What?” he asks, confused, unable to follow Michael’s jump in topic.

“You said my mom gave you rules. But you hate rules. You’re always trying to get me to break rules and say we don’t have to listen to adults,” Michael says. “Since when do you care what my mom says?”

“Since my boyfriend is hurt and his mom is right,” he says.

“I’m not that hurt,” Michael whines. Actually whines.

“You’re only saying that because the good drugs have kicked in.”

“I wanna see you,” Michael says, sounding just pathetic enough that Alex feels bad.

He sighs, recognizing a losing battle when he sees one. People might tease Michael about being a pushover, but Alex has learned that he can be one stubborn asshole when he has his mind set on something. And his mind seems to be dead set on moving so he can see Alex.

“Just, pause for a minute and let me at least help you so you don’t make it worse, okay?” he pleads, and thankfully, Michael agrees to the terms.

Alex sits up and takes very gentle hold of Michael’s arm at the elbow and shimmies his other hand under Michael’s splint. He then helps Michael sit up before grabbing the sling off the nightstand and getting Michael into it. Once he’s confident that Michael’s hand is as secure as it can get, he helps him lay back down on his side before laying down beside him.

“Better?” he asks.

Michael starts to smile and nod before his eyes move to Alex’s neck and he lets out a quiet, “Fuck.”

Michael’s eyes begin to shine with tears as his forehead scrunches up with worry. Gently, he reaches out to run his fingers over Alex’s neck. He knows it’s bad and looks even worse. But the doctor checked him out yesterday too, the Evanses were adamant about it, and nothing is broken. His injuries will heal on their own with time. Michael’s won't.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, his voice more sobered and serious than it’s been.

Alex shrugs. “A bit. Not as much as your hand I’m sure,”

“Are you just saying that because you’re as high as I am right now?”

“Nope,” he says, reaching out to push a stray curl out of Michael’s eyes. “They didn’t even give me the happy pills. That’s how fine I am.”

“You can have my happy pills if they’ll help,” Michael offers.

Alex shakes his head. “I’m not stealing your prescription. You need it. I promise I’m fine,” he assures him. And that seems to settle Michael enough for the time being.

“I would have shared it with you,” Michael says. He reaches out with his leg, sliding it between Alex’s thighs so that they can cuddle in the only way available to them given Michael’s current state.

“I know you would have,” he says with a sad smile.

Any doubt Alex might have had about Michael’s feelings for him, about Michael’s willingness to do anything for him, washed away the moment his dad stepped into that shed. He’s probably supposed to think that it’s romantic, but the only word he has to describe it is sad. Knowing that the person who means the world to you is willing to ignore any sense of self-preservation to protect you? It’s sad. Alex never would have asked Michael to do that for him.

“What now?” Alex asks.

It’s a question he’s been holding inside of him ever since it happened last night. One he’s been too scared to ask. Not when Michael demanded that he come inside after driving him home. Not when Jim Valenti was taking his statement. Not when Max led Alex to the guest room in the basement. And certainly not when Ann Evans told him the matter with his father had been handled and refused to give any more details.

“Now, you stay here with me,” Michael says without even taking a moment to think about it.

And it sounds so nice, but the logical side of Alex knows it’s just a fantasy.

“I think your parents might have something to say about that,” he argues, trying to help Michael see reason so they can come up with a real plan.

“You’d be surprised,” Michael says. “My mom sent my dad to your house this morning with Max to pack up all your things.”

“What?”

“You live here now,” Michael says.

“I live here now? You asked your parents if I could move in and they said yes?” Alex asks, unable to believe his ears. The Ann Evans he knows would never agree to something like this. The entire reason they were even at that toolshed last night was because Alex can hardly step foot in Michael’s house without Ann watching him like a hawk and refusing to let them be in a room alone together. She thinks he’s a bad influence on Michael.

“I didn’t ask,” Michael says. “My parents worked it all out with your dad and Sheriff Valenti apparently.”

Michael just shrugs like it’s not a big deal. Like Alex’s entire world hasn’t just been upended entirely. His chest tightens and something that feels dangerously like hope begins to bubble to the surface. This can’t be real? He gets that Ann Evans went straight into Momma Bear mode the moment she saw how badly Michael was hurt, but this can’t be real. Ann knows that Alex is the reason Michael got hurt in the first place and she’s just going to let him live here?

“Alex, listen,” Micheal says, reaching out with his good hand to take hold of Alex’s. “I know what you're thinking right now. I get that it’s hard to believe what’s happening. That somebody who you thought hated you might come in and take you away from the awful place you’ve been living and offer you this.” Michael gestures around in his bedroom. Even with the rocket ship pillow cases left over from Michael’s childhood, soda bottles and candy wrappers littering the dresser, and the disaster of dirty clothes covering the floor, it’s not hard to see what a nice room it is. The Evans’ home is like something out of a catalog.

“But it happens,” Michael continues. “Say what you want about my parents, few will say it louder than I can, but they are those kind of people and they want you to stay. You’re home now. You don’t ever have to go back to that awful place again.”

Alex lets those words sink in. Tries to settle himself in the knowledge that this might actually be over. That he might finally be done with his dad. That his days of fear could be behind him.

“Okay,” he says with a shaky smile and Michael reaches out to brush a tear from Alex’s cheek.

They can’t cuddle like they are used to with Michael’s sling, but Alex moves in as close as he can, and they lay together like that, sharing a pillow, legs entwined, for a long time. Long enough that they are matching each other’s breathing and Alex is convinced their heartbeats have become synced.

And just as they are both about to fall asleep, Alex draws on all his courage to ask one final question. “Can we talk about it now?”

Michael’s forehead scrunches up entirely, and all too adorably. “The fact that your dad tried to kill you? I thought we were tip toeing around it.”

Alex shakes his head. “The alien thing,” he whispers, almost too scared to say it out loud for fear of Michael’s reaction. He’s still not entirely sure that Michael meant for him to know that about him. But in the chaos of yesterday, as Michael, Max, and Isobel had been tearfully explaining to their parents why they couldn’t go to the ER, Alex had been right there.

Michael tenses immediately and his eyes dart away from Alex’s own. He watches as Michael bites his lip nervously. “Right. I, uh, kind of forgot you heard that part.”

“You’re an alien.”

Michael nods, clearly uncomfortable as he untangles his leg from Alex’s. “Yeah.”

“From space,” he says to clarify, because it’s still possible that he’s misunderstood the situation wildly. After all, everyone’s emotions had been understandably heightened last night.

“Mhmm,” Michael says, his good hand moving to pick at a loose thread in the sheets. “Does that bother you?”

Alex thinks about it. Because oddly enough, he hadn’t really thought about it. There had been so much going on last night that Michael saying he’s an alien hadn’t really registered. Alex had been far too worried about how much blood Michael had lost and how pale he looked and how horrible he sounded as he wailed in pain.

Does it bother him?

“My dad tried to kill me last night,” Alex says, thinking out loud as he tries to process through his emotions about everything.

“Yeah.”

“And you stopped him,” he says, closing his eyes against a vivid flashback of Michael pulling his dad off of him.

“I had to,” Michael says, looking up with pleading, tearful eyes and he wonders if Michael just had the same awful flashback that Alex did. “He was going to kill you, Alex. I couldn’t just… I wouldn’t let that happen.”

Alex shakes his head as he moves to wipe Michael’s tears away. “No, the alien thing doesn’t bother me.”

[shift-shaping]

Top 5 birds

this is an extremely difficult question i hope you know this

First, let's define what a bird is. This probably seems like a pretty easy question, but ask any paleontologist and you'll get like four different answers. From the same person.

Because phylogenetically, it's extremely difficult to say, definitely, what makes a bird a bird. For a drunk, slightly-outdated explanation of why paleontologists don't know what birds are, check out the following video:

It's not my video to be clear, I just really like it for all the confusion it illustrates. One of my favorite ways to piss off my colleagues is to call Triceratops a bird, which nobody likes to hear because it's stupid as fuck, but if feathers make something a bird then, well...

ANYWAY. For the sake of this ask, I'm going to use Avialae as my cutoff for Bird because it sounds pretty and (probably) includes Archaeopteryx but not Dromaeosaurus. Unfortunately this does not include Microraptor, which is very sad because Microraptor is a good little friend. This does, however, probably include the Scansoriopterygids, the real-life wyverns that I wrote a post about here.

Above left: Archaeopteryx, from Nat Geo Kids. Above right: Dromaeosaurus, from Gabriel N.U.

So here are my birds below the cut:

5. Secretary bird (Sagittarius serpentarius)

First off, nice genus name, though I think she's a gemini. This is a gorgeous bird of prey from Subsaharan Africa that looks kind of like a vulture in flight but a bitch on the ground. They kick snakes to death because of course they do. They are the only member of their family, Sagittariidae, which is within Accipitriformes and therefore places them closer to hawks and eagles rather than falcons.

4. Hoatzin (Opisthocomus hoazin)

SKUNK BIRD SKUNK BIRD THESE GUYS ARE FART MONSTERS. They are the only living members of their entire order! Their babies still have claws on their wings! Hoatzin are herbivorous birds from the Amazon that like leaves and fruit and have a weird digestive system convergent on mammalian ruminants. Food ferments in their strange gut which gives them a bad stink and a bad taste. Despite being fairly large, poor fliers, they smell and taste so bad that people don't eat them. In addition, their preferred habitat (swampy marshlands rather than true rainforest) is disappearing slower than the rainforest proper, so these stinky idiots are IUCN Least Concern.

3. Turkey vulture (Cathartes aura)

If you live in the United States and see a fairly large black bird circling above you and trying its damnedest not to flap its wings, it's probably a turkey vulture. They are lazy and have few natural predators. These guys sometimes get a bad rap because their cousins, the black vultures, are not terribly well-behaved and will sometimes attack newborn cattle. Turkey vultures do not kill. They are too lazy. I love them because they refuse to expend effort, even on flying, and that's an entire mood. They're also pretty chill. I met one named Lurch at ZooMontana who was a bro that had been raised as a pet and thought he was a human. Other vultures perplexed him.

2. Confuciusornis

Above is a stunning specimen of Confuciusornis sanctus currently residing at the Natural History Museum of Vienna. It's actually a really common creature in the Early Cretaceous Yixian Formation in Northern China. It's small, about the size of a pigeon, and those double tail feathers are not present in every specimen --possibly indicating sexual dimorphism. There's debate over how good these little dudes were at flying, but the most recent evidence I could find suggests they could perform powered flight in short bursts.

There is a persistent myth that paleontologists cannot know what color an extinct animal was. We actually can discern color for particularly well-preserved specimens, though this is an emerging concept with lots of ongoing research. The presence of fossilized melanosomes (organelles visible under a microscope that carry color information for soft tissue) possibly indicates they were a rusty brown color, but other researchers think they may have been closer to gold and white.

Above left from DK Find Out

1. Black-billed magpie (Pica hudsonia)

I love these horrible bastards!!!!!! They're so trashy and loud!!!! They are easily one of my favorite animals ever, full stop. They are notorious for eating songbird eggs and chicks, but they actually don't do that terribly often. They prefer ~your garbage~ or, truthfully, nuts and seeds and lots and lots of bugs. Like crows and ravens, magpies (which are also Corvids) follow wolves and other predators to scavenge from their kills. Also like crows and ravens, magpies are highly intelligent. They were the first non-mammal to pass the mirror test, indicating that magpies can very likely recognize themselves in a mirror. Magpies hold funerals (or post-mortems...) for their dead and can be taught human speech.

They are stunningly beautiful animals, but Western culture refuses to understand them and chooses prejudice and ignorance over curiosity and compassion. Let me be clear: if you hate magpies (or really any animal; they're just doing their thing) I do not like you. That sounds harsh, but it is unfathomable to me that a person would actually hate an animal for living its life. They are not gentle, they are not sweet (usually, tw animal death in video: a baby magpie is rescued after its possible siblings were found shot), but they are vibrantly beautiful survivalists that have found a way to thrive among creatures that villainize them. You don't have to love or even like them, but every animal deserves respect. Magpies just deserve a little more. ;)

I can do Eir's favorite birds in another post with more detail, but Tumblr is trying to keep me from spreading the good news by enforcing an image limit so for now, a list of Eir's favorite birbs:

5. Red-tailed hawk. They're fairly large survivalists that live fucking everywhere in the US. She would definitely relate to their hardiness and determination. Also, they're the ones that make the hawk noise (at 0:31).

4. Little blue penguin. I maintain that if Thedas is in the Southern Hemisphere, it should have penguins. Eirwen is not always one to freak out over cute things, but her cold hard heart would absolutely melt for a little blue penguin.

3. These fucking things. Just because they're hilarious.

2. Pigeons. In some life or another, she is a crazy pigeon lady. There's a fun AU! She would love having so many small, chubby, cooing friends to feed and care for. I could see her devoting her retirement to a flock of stupid round bird children because that's just who she is.

1. Carrion crow. Because of course.

[rodeoxqueen]

The Sparda Boys Taking Care Of Stray Animals Headcanons-(AO3 Request by @Zehnmou)

Zehnmou requested: Why is this so cute...urgh, my heart just exploded. 😭. I have always love Dante being a goofy dad

Anyway, pardon me, but might I ask for a request here? I don't have any Tumblr account though,

What about Sparda boys taking care of stray pets in their own ways? (oh any kinda is fine to me though, cats, dogs, birds,....they're all good to go)? Like fluffy stuff. Thank you so much.

I love this idea. Pull my fluff trigger, if you will. I did not write Nero, though I will add his segment later.  I’m too burnt out from school to do more but I still wanted you to have something to read as soon as possible. This was all my exhausted cowboy brain could scrounge up to write. 

Thank you for requesting darling,

Rodeo

Vergil

Our favorite ice king tries not to make it obvious but he is a cat person.

He is a staunch believer that owning a pet is extra work and pointless. Besides, you own another creature and that’s freaky. 

But as soon as he sees them toe beans and twitching whiskers, he’s not that loud about his aforementioned opinion. 

He won’t exactly house them, but Dante sometimes catches him leaving cans of tuna around the alleys. He refuses to admit it’s him. 

It’s even harder to hide he’s the local cat dad when he walks down the street and there’s a gaggle of cats following him, tails swishing the air with affection. 

His pants at the ankle area are covered in cat hair. He can’t walk out the street without a pack of all sorts of cats rubbing themselves on his legs. 

Sometimes there will be some sickly kitten that’s left on the street. Vergil can be found in his plastic white chair, bottle-feeding the poor thing. It grows healthy and cute and he lets the kitty, who he named William, sit on his shoulders while he reads. 

After he lets in that cat, about twenty more show up. Dante had to beg Vergil to be sensible, a rare sight to behold, when there are cats everywhere in his shop. 

Vergil= Crazy Cat DILF. 

V

Unlike his complete form, he’s quite into the idea of animal companionship even if Griffon is annoying as hell sometimes. 

He loves feeding birds. When he’s reading with Shadow’s head on his lap and Griffon is preening, he’s throwing bits of cracker and biscuit onto the ground for pigeons. Sometimes Shadow tries to eat one or Griffon strikes lightning at them with a chortle. He is inconsolably pissed. 

One day at a local park,  he keeps hearing this wretched and pitiable noise. After some tracking around, he finds a raven with a broken wing. They’re hopping around pathetically and incapable of flight. 

When they see him approaching, they freak and screech at him and try to flee. 

“Have no fear, little bird. I mean you no harm.” He stoops down, hands gentle and slow to approach them. 

For some reason, the corvid trusts him, beak stroked by his careful fingers. He cups the bird and takes them home. 

He manages to fix their wing with a splint. The bird hops following him. Shadow tries so hard to not eat the poor thing and Griffon is offended. 

“What?! Am I not cute enough for ya, V? You cheating on me with another birdie?!”

When they begin to heal and can fly again, V sadly lets them leave. He gives them a little push towards the window. 

“Go on now, little wanderer. You’re well and free once more.” They don’t move, intelligent eyes focused on him only. They hop back and caw at him, flying up to sit upon his shoulder. 

“If you wish.” V muses. He strokes the bird’s head. 

“If you are to stay, I must find you a name. How about Poe?” 

“Caw.” 

“Excellent choice.” 

V is not very original. But he has a pet raven and that makes him so much cooler than you.  

Dante

On account that he does live in the shadier parts of Redgrave, there’s a lot of strays. However, there’s also a lot of demons that like to eat the aforementioned strays. It’s a brutal little ecosystem. 

So imagine Dante’s surprise one night, when a hellhound runs into the alley near his shop. 

The hound is snarling with some sort of black goo in its mouth and its claws like scythes scraping the ground. Dante thinks it’s a dog that’s dumpster diving. 

“Same.” He walks away. It barks at him, looking for a fight.

“Look puppy. I fight Cerberus for fun, you are not going to win this.” The hound jumps him anyway, taking a good chunk off his leather coat. He throws the dog off and semi triggers, exposing his demonic skin. 

He assumed the hound would just run away. Instead, it rolls onto its back with its tail shaking. He can’t get it to leave and he eventually lets it inside. 

He has a dog now, he guesses. 

The hellhound is a lot different than a normal dog. Firstly, it’s from hell. 

It also is super strong and fast, and incredibly violent. It should not be treated as a pet.

Dante disregards that and plays fetch with it using an old can. It runs into traffic and comes back with half a stop sign. 

“Come here, boy!” The hound leaps onto him and sends him through a wall. Dante has to borrow Nico’s saw to clip its nails. Don’t even get him started on bathing the hound. It tore the faucet right out of the wall and sent a spray of water right at Dante. 

He never really finds a name for the hellhound. He just whistles and it’s there. 

He and the dog can enjoy a pizza together and he feeds it the olives when they show up on his slices. However, the hound is perfectly happy with some demon leftovers or roadkill. 

Its breath? Terrible. 

He tried to leash the dog and it bit a hole through his hand. No leashes. 

He cannot take the hound to the dog park. The last time he did the dumb hound tried to eat someone’s Pomeranian. 

The hound’s really useful during hunts when Dante brings it.  

Dante gets a side compartment for Cavalier so the hound can sit and let the open air hit its face. The hound can run just as fast as a car but it loves it. 

At the end of a hard day, the hellhound will jump up and down and chase its tail with joy when Dante comes back from work. 

He and the hound sleep on the same bed, the hound laying its stupid little head right on his chest. Both their snores make Vergil want to set the shop on fire. 

(For my Tumblr Lone Rangers Only)-Vergil walked in on Dante doing this to his hellhound and he simply walked out of the building: 

Rodeo’s Two Pieces: 

This Cowboy Is Tired But Never Of Your Requests and Comments.

[royalswille]

@ace-bookworm said Button House gets a cat and I said yes and then I wrote this, enjoy.

Buttons’ House

Alison and Mike Cooper had never intended to adopt a cat. After all, Button House was already full to bursting, what with the both of them, eight ghosts living in the main house, an entire village of plague victims in the basement, and the ghost of a pesky pigeon courtesy of their neighbour’s dog. Simply put, there was not enough space to add any more family members to Button House.

So the cat had taken it upon itself to move in.

It had started one morning while Button House was going through its usual morning routine. Alison had woken up, checked the bathroom for ghosts so that Mike could use it without fear, then started the stopwatch for the Captain’s run before putting on a record for Thomas to do his morning dance to. She had filled in a few words on Robin’s crossword, set up Pong for Julian, and put on a classic football match for Pat. In the next room, she had helped Mary with her phonics work, turned to the next page in Kitty and Fanny’s book, and then done the same for Humphrey (or rather, Humphrey’s head – god only knew where his body was). She had arrived downstairs in two minutes and thirty seconds to open the door for the Captain to run in, perfectly timed.

Everything was the same as usual.

“Two minutes thirty, Cap,” Alison said, stopping the timer. “Same as always.”

“Blast,” the Captain said frustratedly. “Are you quite certain of it, Alison? I could have sworn I shaved off a second or two, I really pushed myself on that last corner.”

She shrugged apologetically. “Sorry. I’m just going by what the timer says.”

The Captain harrumphed and peered out the door, beckoning Alison to join him. She did, looking out across the driveway to where he pointed at the gate.

“That’s my problem,” he said, waggling his finger. “The terrain switches from concrete to gravel. If you could just pave over the driveway then I’m quite sure I c– hello.”

The Captain’s tone changed abruptly and Alison raised an eyebrow. “Hello?” she replied, bewildered.

“No, no, not you,” Cap replied, pointing down the driveway again. “Look, over there. It’s a cat.”

Alison squinted and saw that the Captain was quite right. Trotting up the driveway towards the open door, mewing quietly, was a little cat. It was jet black with bright yellow eyes and looked a little tatty with its scraggly fur. As it got closer, Alison could see that its ribs jutted out from under its skin slightly. The cat looked happy enough, but it was very clearly a stray, or badly neglected at the very least.

It stopped just in front of the Captain and sat primly, looking up at him with its eyes squinted serenely.

“Can cats see ghosts?” Alison asked him.

“It would appear so,” he returned. With a painful-sounding cracking of his knees, the Captain crouched down in front of the cat and regarded it. The cat stared back, blinking happily up into the Captain’s face. It attempted to bat at the Captain’s swagger stick, which was hanging from his hands, but its paw went straight through.

“Yep,” Alison said, “it can see you.”

It didn’t appear the Captain was listening to her, because a moment later he pointed his stick at the cat and said, “Now you listen here. It is improper to try and touch a Commanding Officer’s person or belongings. Had you been a soldier – or indeed able to touch me – I should have you punished.”

“Captain, it’s a cat, it can’t understand you,” Alison told him.

He stood up again, knees creaking audibly. “Yes, well. That hardly matters – I am a senior officer and I– oh dear, good Lord, what is it doing now?”

The cat was purring, attempting to rub itself against the Captain’s legs lovingly, but simply passing right through, which only seemed to make it more determined to show the Captain its love. The Captain began to gag, reminding Alison of the ghosts’ inability to touch living things without feeling sick. Quickly, she scooped the cat into her arms and held it close – the Captain stopped his gagging, but the cat continued to purr, nuzzling at Alison’s face.

“It’s very affectionate,” she said through all the fur blocking her face.

“Quite,” returned the Captain, voice a touch more gentle than usual. “Do you think it has a home of its own?”

Alison stroked the cat and frowned. “If it does then it’s not a very good one. Look, you can see all its bones, the poor thing hasn’t eaten in ages. And look at its fur, it’s disgusting. And it stinks.” The cat stopped purring momentarily as if offended. “Sorry.”

“Well,” the Captain said, assuming his usual military-man stance, bouncing once on the balls of his feet, back straight, stick tucked under his arm. “If this creature is in need then perhaps we should provide a home for it.”

“What? No, we can’t do that. Captain, the house is more than full already, we can’t add a cat to the mix.”

“During the war we never left a soldier behind!”

“This is a cat, not a soldier. I’m sure it’ll find a home eventually, just not here.”

As she said it, the cat laid its head upon her shoulder, purring again, eyes closed. It appeared it had decided that in Alison’s arms was the perfect place to go to sleep. Alison had always been a cat person and wanted nothing more than to cuddle the cat, even though it was probably riddled with disease and it stank like rot, but she knew if she did that then the cat would start thinking that Button House was its home. It would start coming back and they couldn’t have that. So with a heavy heart, she gently placed it down on the floor.

“Sorry,” she said to it as it looked up at her sadly. “I’ll feed you just this once because you look like you need it, but that’s it. Right, Captain?”

The Captain muttered something under his breath as he often did when he felt put out, then turned on his heel and left, stretching the way he liked to after his morning run. Alison went the opposite direction, leading the cat to the kitchen to find it something to eat.

It was halfway through the plate of tuna she had laid down for it when Mike came in. He looked down at it, then to Alison, then back at the cat before saying bewilderedly, “I don’t remember getting one of those.”

“That’s because we don’t have one,” Alison told him. She watched fondly as it ate its food – it clearly hadn’t eaten in months judging by the way it wolfed the fish down. “This is a stray, it followed the Captain in this morning after his run.”

“Uh huh,” Mike said slowly, sitting down to watch the cat too. “So why is it in our kitchen?”

“I’m feeding it.”

“Yes, I can see that. Why though?”

“Because,” Alison said emphatically, picking the cat up as it wandered absently towards her, then turning it to face Mike. She held its paws in her hands and wiggled them back and forth like a bad puppeteer. “Look at it! It needed some sort of food otherwise the poor thing would probably die. It’s not like we’re going to keep it, I just wanted to make sure it lived.”

“You remember what happened to my Auntie Barbara,” Mike replied. “She accidentally adopted so many neighbourhood strays that her house was practically overrun with them. And then what happened to her? She died. Because she was allergic to cats and there was so many that it killed her.”

“I never understood why she fed them and stroked them in the first place if she was so allergic,” Alison returned, to which Mike shrugged. “But it doesn’t matter anyway. We aren’t keeping it.”

“We don’t get to decide that,” Mike said, “the cat does.”

The cat, from its place nestled on Alison’s lap, meowed in agreement.

“Well, if it shows up again, we just won’t let it in. Agreed?”

“Agreed. We can’t afford another mouth to feed. It is cute though,” he admitted.

“It is, isn’t it?”

Despite how adorable the cat was, Alison let it out the front door. She watched as it obediently walked away, tail a little higher than it had been before, looking healthier and perkier. She knew she shouldn’t have been hoping it would come back, but a little part of her didn’t want to say goodbye.

Luckily, she didn’t have to. The very next morning, she opened the door to let the Captain in from his run (“Two minutes and thirty seconds, Captain, but I think you knew that already.”) and hot on his tail came the cat, smiling as obviously as a cat could.

In spite of her better judgement, Alison took the cat into the kitchen again and fed it once more. She knew she shouldn’t have been, but she was already growing very attached to it. Despite its awful smell and awful condition, she felt a soft spot for it. Absently, she wondered if she should take it to a vet, just to get it checked over and see if it had a home. But she was snapped out of her thoughts by one of the loudest things known to mankind – Lady Fanny Button.

“What on Earth is that disgusting creature doing in my house?!” she shrieked, pointing wildly at the cat, which kept eating its food just as peacefully as before.

“Relax, Fanny, I’m just feeding it,” Alison explained.

“Whyever are you doing that? That creature is clearly a stray, probably riddled with fleas, and you’ve brought it into this house like it’s nothing! It’s going to defile this beautiful house and you shall be the one to blame for it, Alison. I want it gone at once!”

“Fanny, it’s not doing anything, okay? Calm down, look, it’s just having something to eat, it needs it.”

“It is a very small step from eating to… to defecating, young lady!” Lady Button retorted. “I shall not have that thing in my house, ruining everything! Take it away.”

“I thought you liked animals,” Alison tried. “You had Dante when you were alive.”

“Dante was a well-behaved, loving, healthy, clean dog. He was not some stray we just picked up off the street one day because we felt like it!”

“Well,” Alison said, “to be fair, we haven’t picked up the cat because we feel like it, it kind of invited itself in.”

“If anything that makes it worse,” Fanny yelled, sounding appalled. “Not only does it smell ghastly and look unseemly, but it is rude as well. It clearly has no manners. I will not ask again, Alison, take the cat out of this house!”

At that moment, the cat finished eating and turned around to try and bat at the hem of Lady Button’s dress. Though it couldn’t touch it (for obvious ghostly reasons), Fanny screamed and took a few paces back. She started yelling more nonsense at Alison, something along the lines of ‘get it out’ and then ran straight through the wall, out of the kitchen.

Sighing, Alison heaved the cat into her arms, took it through the house again and let it out through the front door just like the previous day. She watched it wander away once more, though this time it stopped in the middle of the driveway to wash its leg briefly. She shut the door behind it and got on with the rest of her day.

It wasn’t until the next day, day three, that Alison realised that the cat situation was likely going to become permanent. When she opened the door for the Captain, he did not run in as usual, so she peered out of the door and saw him crouched in the middle of the driveway, attempting to pet the cat but failing miserably because each time his hand passed right through and he gagged.

She watched for a minute, stifling her laughs so that the Captain didn’t hear her and realise she was watching which would likely make him stop. Soon she was joined by someone else.

“Good morning, Alison,” Kitty said, bounding up to her, smiling as brightly as ever. “How are you today? Oh look – the Captain has made a friend!”

Alison chuckled. “He has. It looks like they’re getting on very well.”

Kitty gasped excitedly then said, “It’s a cat. That means it’s a kitty, just like me!” And without further ado, she skipped over to join the Captain and the cat. The Captain looked mildly disgruntled, their moment having been interrupted, but he smiled as soon as the cat started purring, trying to bat at his swagger stick again and jumping at the bows on Kitty’s dress.

A moment later, Mike joined Alison. He looked out at the cat, watching as it jumped and played with what would seem like nothing to him.

“Are there ghosts out there with it?” he asked Alison.

“Yep,” she returned, popping the ‘p’. “Cap and Kitty. They’ve really taken a shine to it.”

“Well, like I said,” Mike replied, “it is really cute, I don’t blame them. Have any of the others met it yet?”

“Only Lady B,” Alison told him. He raised an eyebrow and she continued, “She wasn’t a fan.”

Mike hummed and a silence fell between them. Alison had been thinking more frequently that they really should take it to a vet. Even though it was happy and eating properly when she fed it, getting it checked over wasn’t a bad idea. It didn’t mean they had to adopt it – it just meant that they could have peace of mind knowing it was alright.

She was just about to say this to Mike, but he got in first and said, “I think we should keep it.”

“What?” she replied, shocked. “Why? Two days ago you were worried it was going to kill you.”

“No,” he said, “I just suggested that it’s a possibility we can’t rule out. But you clearly like it, and I think it’s cute, and if the ghosts like it then maybe it’ll – I don’t know – like, placate them a little.”

“They’re not dangerous, they don’t need placating,” Alison said. “Is this just the same as when you said we should get Netflix to ‘appease’ them after they’d finished watching every DVD we own?”

“No,” he said, sounding too affronted to be telling the truth. “Plus, we won’t be caring for it on our own, will we? We’ve got eight extra pairs of eyes to keep a lookout for it. So we can all look after it, it won’t be just us.”

“Only one of those ghosts can touch anything,” Alison told him. “We’ll still have to clean up its poo and stuff like that. And you’re terrible with poo.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’ll be on poo duty.”

“No. If we’re adopting this cat then we’re sharing poo duty. That’s the price you have to pay.”

The both of them turned to watch the Captain and Kitty playing with the cat again. It jumped up to try and grab the feathers in Kitty’s hair and she giggled delightedly.

“Alison,” she called, “it’s so lovely! Come and play with us, please!”

She turned to Mike. “Okay. We’re keeping it then.”

He tore his gaze away from the cat and smiled. “Yeah. Why not? Let’s do it.”

“Great,” Alison said, clapping her hands. “I’ll call the vet, see if they can get us an appointment to make sure it’s all healthy and see if it’s microchipped. I hope it doesn’t already have a home.”

“If it does then we can just get another one,” Mike said, slipping an arm around Alison’s shoulders. “There’s a shelter not too far away.”

“I like this cat, though. I want this one.”

“Well, we’d better get that vet appointment to see if we can have it then, hm?”

And so, not four hours later, Alison and Mike made their way back to Button House from the vets, the kitten nestled comfortably in the back seat. Their appointment had gone very well – the cat was in surprisingly good health for a stray, they had got it up to date on its vaccinations, and they had determined the cat didn’t have a home. So, to the couple’s delight, it was allowed to stay at Button House.

The house was unusually quiet when they arrived back. That normally meant that all the ghosts were assembled upstairs partaking in one of Pat’s clubs or another. There was the faint sound of scattered applause as Alison walked through the front door – one of them had probably finished giving a speech.

She gently put the cat down on the floor as Mike shut the front door behind them.

“Right, missy,” she said. The vet had also confirmed that the cat was a girl and about six months old. “Welcome home!”

The cat meowed and trotted off down the hallway, seemingly in search of the source of the clapping. Alison wandered after it, and the cat led her upstairs to the common room. She found the ghosts all gathered around together, most of them on the sofa, Julian and Robin by the chess board, and Thomas in full view of all of them, bowing even though their half-hearted applause had long since ceased.

Lady Button was the first to notice the new arrival and she didn’t seem best pleased.

“Alison,” she shouted, standing up and pointing at the cat furiously. “I told you to get rid of that vermin, that vile creature, I do not want it in this house!”

“Now listen here,” interrupted the Captain, brandishing his swagger stick. “That cat happens to be in dire need of our assistance. I think it only right that Alison has brought it inside.”

“And it really is a sweetheart, too, Lady Button,” Kitty gushed.

“You’d probably think a grizzly bear was a sweetheart,” Fanny retorted.

Robin shook his head, saying, “Grizzly bear never sweetheart. Grizzly bear kill my uncle. Was very funny actually.”

“Excuse me,” interjected Thomas, “I still have four more poems I want to perform!”

As happened far too often to be endearing anymore, the ghosts all started yelling over each other, some insisting they get rid of the cat, some insisting it stayed, and Thomas insisting he be allowed to finish his recital. Alison watched them fight, the cat sat at her feet, watching bemusedly too, before finally stepping in after Julian and Thomas started squaring up to one another.

“Alright, alright, enough!” she shouted.

Shouting only worked about half the time, sometimes the ghosts’ arguing would be  so loud that Alison couldn’t even hear herself over it – luckily, this time around the ghosts fell silent and looked towards her expectantly.

“Okay,” she said, “everyone just listen to me. Mike and I decided that we’re going to adopt this cat–”

“Outrageous,” interrupted Lady Button. Alison ignored her.

“We’ve taken her to the vets. She’s in perfectly good shape and she doesn’t seem to have a home, so we’re taking her in. She might need a little TLC before she starts looking…”

“Less like a toilet brush?” suggested Julian, eyeing the cat.

Alison frowned. “Before she starts looking herself. But we’re keeping her, no objections. Okay? She really is lovely, I promise you all.”

“No, no, no,” shrieked Mary, standing up and joining Lady Button as far away from the cat as they could get. “Al’son, you can’t keeps the pussycat.”

“Why is that, Mary?” Alison asked, trying not to sigh.

“Because you’ll’s be branded a witch!” Mary explained, sounding as if it should have been obvious. “If a woman have a cat then she be a witch! They’ll burns you at the stake! I’d know.”

“Mary, lots of people have cats now and they don’t get burned to death. Alright? And you know I’m not a witch.”

“Oh,” Mary said. “Right. Okay then.”

Without further hesitation she crouched down and smiled at the little cat. It purred and tried to bat at her apron. But it appeared Mary took that as an attempt at attack, so she yelped and ran, hiding behind Kitty.

“You can keeps the pussycat, Al’son, but please keeps it aways from me.”

“If you’re quite finished with the witchcraft nonsense,” said the Captain, stepping forward, “then might I ask if this cat has a name?”

“Oh,” Alison said, “well, Mike and I were going to brainstorm later this evening–”

“That seems hardly fair,” Cap returned. “We all live here, we should all name it.”

“Yes,” said Kitty, bouncing up and down. “I think we should call her Princess Snuggles.”

The Captain laughed. “No, thank you, Katherine, that’s a silly name. I was thinking something more like Major Fuzzyboots.”

“And how, pray tell, is that any less silly than Princess Snuggles?” asked Thomas flatly.

“Well, I don’t see what’s wrong with any classic cat names,” Pat said, peering down at the cat. He stretched his hand out to scratch her head, then looked as if he had to hold back vomit, and withdrew his hand. “Something like Luna or Shadow. Something simple, like.”

“Boring,” Robin remarked. “Should call it Cat. Save trouble.”

“No offense, guys, but I think I’m just going to talk it over with Mike,” Alison decided – the ‘all these names are terrible’ wasn’t spoken aloud but was heavily implied and she was sure they got the picture. “We’ll come up with something. Come on, missy.”

Alison hoisted the cat into her arms and was about to head back downstairs with her, when Julian’s voice piped up from behind and said, “Why not call her Buttons?”

The other ghosts made noises of agreement, which was rare.

“Buttons?” Alison said, looking at the cat. “Well, I suppose she does look like a Buttons. And it’s like Button House! Oh, I love it, nice one, Julian.”

He straightened his tie and suit jacket. “Yes, well, if anyone was going to be the one to solve this – uh – cat naming crisis, well then, I suppose it only makes sense that it were me. It’s not the first crisis I’ve solved, not by any stretch of the imagination. Did I ever tell you all about the time, back in eighty-three, when I…”

Alison didn’t stick around to hear the rest of whatever godawful story Julian was planning on telling. She left the room and headed back downstairs to get Buttons some food and tell Mike they’d decided on a name.

Over the next few weeks, Buttons’ presence in Button House seemed to be almost completely accepted by everyone living there. There had been a few unfortunate incidents and teething problems, but nothing that wasn’t fixable.

The first real problem came two days after Buttons’ adoption. Nobody had been able to find Humphrey’s head, which was predictably detached from his body. Kitty remembered placing it down on the kitchen table, but all they found there was Buttons. Everyone had been searching the house (including Mike, though he couldn’t see Humphrey, and Humphrey’s body, which couldn’t see anything at all) but it hadn’t been until Alison had picked Buttons up that the head had been discovered.

It turned out that Buttons had taken quite a liking to Humphrey and decided to sit on him. The problems arose when Buttons obviously couldn’t sit on Humphrey and instead ended up in him, which obscured the head from view completely. And it didn’t help that Humphrey was allergic, something that apparently hadn’t changed in death. His face was red and his eyes were watering when Alison finally picked up Buttons and freed him.

“Oh, thank goodness for that,” Humphrey breathed. “I’ve been shouting for hours, couldn’t anyone hear me?”

“You must’ve been muffled by Buttons’ fur,” Alison suggested. “Sorry Humphrey, I’ll try to stop that from happening again.”

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself, Alison. It’s alright, really. Well, apart from the allergy, and the sick feeling from having something living touch me. But really, no need to go out of your way.”

Another issue was that Robin just didn’t seem to get on with Buttons. She loved him, clearly – in fact, Buttons seemed to adore everyone in Button House (except Mike, for reasons unknown to anybody) – but one day Alison had walked into the common room to see Robin yelling at the cat.

“Oh, you think you so big, so clever. I kill mammoth. I can easy kill little cat!”

“Woah, hey,” Alison said, approaching the two. Buttons was stood on the chess table, gazing up at Robin with nothing short of adoration in her eyes. “Why are you threatening to kill my cat?”

“Ruin chess game,” Robin huffed, jabbing a finger in Buttons’ direction. She tried to pat it and he grumbled, “Go away.”

“She’s just a cat, I’m sure she didn’t mean to.”

“She did. She jump on table and hit all pieces off. Little guy and horsey on floor, me no pick them up!”

Alison did it for him, picking up the chess pieces and placing them on the squares Robin instructed her to. Buttons quickly lost interest, hopped off the table and left the room.

“And stay out!” Robin called after her.

Thomas didn’t seem to be the cat’s biggest fan either. Alison had a sneaking suspicion that his hatred towards her stemmed from the fact that he had been trying to recite yet another unwarranted love poem to Alison but she’d not been paying attention, instead playing with Buttons. She had caught him seeking his revenge later that day, leaning over Buttons as she slept on the sofa, and whispering what sounded like a demand for her to duel him. Alison had decided to avoid that situation altogether and quickly backed out the room.

The only other ghost who wasn’t totally enamoured with Buttons was Julian, who seemed very indifferent on the whole subject. Though Alison did once catch him practising one of his speeches on the cat, who seemed surprisingly attentive.

But for the most part, Buttons was adored. Many a time, Alison came across the Captain or Pat pretending to stroke her or sitting by her as she slept. Kitty and Mary would play with her (though Mary was still a little wary and periodically asked Buttons if she was a witch in disguise). Even the plague ghosts adored her – she had managed to sneak down to the basement when Mike left the door open once, and the ghosts had tried their hardest to adopt her for themselves. They were happy with the agreement they reached with Alison though, that she would let Buttons down there once a week to visit them all.

The biggest surprise of all came one lazy evening when Alison had been on her way to bed, a sleepy Mike in tow. They had passed through the common room where a fire was dwindling in the fireplace. Buttons was curled up in front of it, sleeping soundly, and watching her with a fond expression on her face was Fanny.

Alison smiled and cleared her throat. Fanny looked round, looking a little startled and embarrassed to be caught gazing at the cat she had been so against.

“Alison,” she said, but didn’t seem to have any words to follow it up with.

“Is she growing on you, then, Fanny?” Alison asked, stifling a yawn.

Fanny turned away, facing Buttons again, and said, “Well. She’s certainly no Dante. But I can admit now that she is rather sweet. I suppose it’s alright that she stays here.”

Alison watched as a small smile grew on Fanny’s face, watching the gentle rise and fall of Buttons’ chest.

“Goodnight, Lady B,” she said.

“Goodnight, Alison.”

From then on, all the residents of Button House treated Buttons as if she were all that mattered, even Robin and Thomas, whose grudges quickly wore off. It seemed that despite the fact that Button House was already full to the brim, adding little Buttons made the house a home.