#they could keep flocks of birds for food and feathers and train them for hunting and long distance communication

[girlscience]

alien be upon ye

[inkshifter21]

This is a section that I wrote several months ago when I was (and still am) beginning to write my Harry Potter series, containing some of my favorite Luna Lovegood moments.

*Note: Luna Lovegood is the Professor of Care of Magical Creatures in my series, which is takes place in the year 2036 with a new generation of witches and wizards, as well as some of the characters from the original Harry Potter series. Alisa is a shape-shifter. This section also appears early on in my first book, about a few days after Alisa and her friends arrive in Hogwarts for their 4th year. (I have also published a few other sections on here that gives some insight into my fanfiction series, as well as the main plot of the story)

Book 1 (a little after the beginning, also published on tumblr):

Soon Friday rolled around. The owls came and delivered their mail. Jasper's owl was easy to spot in the flock, being a rather large owl. He flew in, carrying a package in his talons and a letter in his beak. He set the package in front of Jasper, sitting with his friends at the Gryffindor table, then circled around, and landed in front of Alisa, handing her the letter.

"I see you’ve taught him something new."

"Thanks," He smiled shyly. "I trained him to do that."

Ever since Jasper received Soren in his first year, he was alright with delivering the post, but would often drop the mail in the food. So he began training Soren to give the mail properly without placing the mail where it shouldn't go. Soren was determined to show what a real post owl could do, so he was up to the training. By the end of the first year, he was no longer dropping the mail into the food. Other's weren't so lucky.

"Snowflake, I was eating!" a Slytherin called out.

She picked up her letters and newspaper, now with porridge on them, trying to wipe the food away.

"Why do these owls think we want things dropped on us?" asked a Ravenclaw, rubbing his head. Next to him was a package that seemed to have been dropped onto him. Meanwhile, back at the Gryffindor table, Chloe leaned over to get a closer look at Alisa's letter.

"Who would be sending you a letter?" asked Chloe.

Alisa looked at the envelope. "It’s signed by Professor Lovegood."

"Well, she did seem excited when you told her that you were thinking of becoming a Magizoologist."

Another Gryffindor jumped in.

"Loony Lovegood?"

"What?" Alisa asked, confused.

Chloe scowled at him.

"It’s Luna! Luna!"

The boy rolled his eyes and turned away. Chloe turned back to Alisa.

"When Professor Lovegood was a student here, many called her 'Loony' because they found her odd."

"She wore these weird spectacles and a roaring Gryffindor mascot hat," Jasper snorted.

"Well, I don’t think there’s anything odd about that," answered Alisa.

"At least some understand that." Chloe chimed, shooting Jasper a look. He quickly stopped chuckling.

"I think it will be fun." Alisa smiled. "Professor Lovegood might show me some of the creatures she will be teaching us about."

Alisa felt that she connected with Professor Lovegood, both loving magical creatures as well as each having their own little quirks. She opened the letter, written in neat cursive.

Dear Alisa,

I’ve heard that you will be free this afternoon and was wondering if you would like to meet me in the forest and show you some of the creatures. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I understand.

May the Niffler not steal your gold,

Luna Lovegood.

Alisa took out a quill and scribbled on the back:

Yes, I would love to see them!

Alisa Berman.

She looked up, but Soren and the other owls had flown off. Well, she thought, she’ll deliver it to Professor Lovegood herself before class begins. She exited the Great Hall, and transformed into an owl, carrying the letter in her beak. Now she just needed to figure out where Professor Lovegood was.

She knew of Hagrid’s old hut, but when she arrived, it was empty. There were no signs of anyone staying there, but she noticed shelves that contained things Magizoologist used. There were magnifying glasses, microscopes, some long poles, gloves, books, and other items. She noticed that one of the books seemed to move. It fell to the ground, still closed. Alisa set down the letter on the table and flew closer to the book, landing next to it. The book was closed with a strap. It was furry and had what appeared to be teeth and four eyes, looking ugly. Alisa knew that this was the Monster Book of Monsters, but it had slipped her mind that she should stroke the spine before handling it, since she thought to herself that she wasn't going to open it and it had a strap around it. She was just going to put it back up on the shelf. Alisa grabbed the spine of the book in her talons in an attempt to put the book back, but barely took off when it began to growl. The book started to open up, trying to bite her. She tried to hold onto the spine tightly to keep it shut but was caught off guard. The book managed to break open the strap, opening and closing ferociously, shredded paper flying everywhere. It twisted out of her grasp and bit her wing. She screeched and pulled her wing away, the book managing to take a few feathers in its mouth. Alisa tried to peck it’s eyes out, but quickly flew back and landed a few feet away to dodge another bite. The door flung open and Professor Lovegood entered.

"Oh, you poor thing!"

Luna came towards Alisa, arms outstretched. To Alisa's surprise, she went past her. Alisa’s yellow eyes widened as she turned her head around one-eighty to see that Luna picked up the book, looking at it sympathetically. The book that tried to bite her wing off. She stroked the spine and the book purred. Professor Lovegood turned to the owl.

"So that’s why he fell off the shelf."

He? What did she name the book? Monstie? Luna placed the book back on the shelf and bent down. Alisa perched on her arm.

"You poor creature," she sighed. "why did you have to agitate him?"

Really? Alisa thought. I agitated that thing? It tried to eat me!

She gave an angry hoot.

"Well, you shouldn’t have done that, and been more careful around him," she said in response as if she spoke owl. "Let me check you for any damage."

She opened her wing where the book bit her.

"Hmm, besides a few feathers missing, nothing seems to be broken."

Professor Lovegood scratched her head, which she liked, but was still miffed. Then she remembered why she was here. She flew to the table, picked up the letter, and then flew back to her arm, handing it to her.

"Oh, so that’s what you came for, to give me Alisa’s response."

Alisa moved up to her shoulder, watching as she opened the letter.

"I doubt she may want to see me. She may think I’m loony." she sighed. She read the back of the letter, chuckled, and turned to the owl.

"Well, it looks like she does want to see me. Anyways, thank you for delivering this. I bet you’d like a mouse."

Alisa quickly flew off. No way was she going to eat a mouse, though she would have preferred fish. Classes were going to start soon anyway. She flew to the greenhouse. Seeing that no one was there, she transformed back to herself. Soon the other students arrived. Chloe and Jasper came up to her.

"Did you manage to find an owl and send your letter?" he asked.

"Yes," Alisa replied.

"What’s that on your arm?"

Alisa looked down to see there were faint red marks around the middle of her arm. The book didn’t piece her skin but bit her hard enough to leave marks.

"Oh!" She quickly pulled down her sleeve. "Probably a rash. It’ll clear up by the end of the day."

"Well, you should see Madam Pomfrey if it doesn’t clear up by then," replied Chloe.

They got ready for Herbology class, where Professor Longbottom soon arrived and lectured them on the uses of Aconite in Monkshood and Wolfsbane. After Potions class, she was free. She made her way outside and ran to the forest. There, she saw Professor Lovegood holding up an apple. The apple moved from her hand and was being eaten by something she couldn’t see. She realized it was a Thestral. Luna turned to her.

"I’m glad you came," she said. "You'll be meeting some of the creatures around here, like this little one."

She put her hand on a tree and moved it to Alisa. A Bowtruckle hung onto her fingers and looked at her. She handed Alisa a piece of woodlice, and the creature hopped onto her hand. She looked at the small creature in amazement. She had never seen a Bowtruckle before. It went around her fingers. She placed it back on the tree, and they began to walk a little deeper in the forest and soon stopped. Professor Lovegood took out a whistle and blew it. Fweep! Some small, brightly colored birds then appeared, disappearing and reappearing as they ran towards them. Luna took out some feed, and put some in Alisa’s hand. They bent down as the mother and babies ate from their hands.

"What are these?" asked Alisa.

"These are Diricawls. Muggles believed that these were Dodos, but thought they had been hunted to extinction. They can disappear and reappear to avoid danger."

One disappeared and then reappeared on her head. Laughing, Alisa set it back down. After feeding them, they continued through the forest, talking about the different magical creatures they knew.

"When I was a student at Hogwarts, hardly anyone believed that Thestrals existed. Harry and I along with a few others did, being able to see them."

She turned to her.

"Everyone thought I was different, as if it was a bad thing, but being different isn’t unnatural. You can’t be what everyone else expects you to be. It’s less confined."

Luna smiled. She looked off into the distance of her imagination as they continued to walk. Alisa questioned herself. If Professor Luna understood what it meant to be different, maybe she would accept her being a shape-shifter.

"Um, I was wondering...well…" Alisa wasn’t sure how to say it. "How do you feel about me being a shape-shifter?"

Dread filled her. Will she tell the other professors? Could it accidentally slip out? She looked up to see that Luna was continuing to look forward, humming. She turned to her.

"Oh," she said in her soft voice. "sorry, I was thinking about Nargles and Wrackspurts. What were you saying?"

"Um, nothing." It was probably best if she did not tell her.

"Well, we’re almost there."

Soon, they arrived at a cave. Alisa was a bit nervous. She could sense something in the cave, but had no idea what it was. Then out came an Occamy. It poked its head out of the cave and slithered towards them, shrinking as it did. Professor Lovegood bent down and it coiled onto her palm, now a hundred times smaller than before. Its turquoise scales shone in the sunlight. She turned to see Alisa’s surprised expression.

"Have you ever seen an Occamy before?" she asked.

"No. I've only heard about them."

Luna set down the Occamy as she spoke.

"Well, they are rarely seen, having the ability to change their size."

Then the Occamy grew a little more, now raising its head to Alisa’s height, looking at her with watchful eyes. It nuzzled against her, wrapping its body around her arm. Luna chuckled.

"He likes you."

"So, he’s not aggressive?"

"No, not really, though this one is used to people. It’s the females that you have to watch out for, especially during the laying season."

The Occamy shrank a little more, and moved up over her shoulders like a shawl and rubbed against her. He then slithered off, enlarging himself again, and entered his cave.

[ducktracy]

140. porky’s poultry plant (1936)

release date: august 22nd, 1936

series: looney tunes

director: frank tashlin

starring: joe dougherty (porky), tedd pierce (rooster)

a cartoon with a number of important firsts! starting with the most obvious: this is frank tashlin’s first cartoon! he was only 23 at the time. he worked at schlesinger’s as an animator from 1933-1934, but got fired after leon schlesinger wanted a cut of tashlin’s comic (titled van boring, a play on his former boss van beuren) and tashlin told him to go to hell. after floating around from ub iwerks and hal roach’s studios, tashlin returned to schlesinger’s in 1936 to replace jack king. tashlin would leave once more in 1938 after an argument with executive henry binder, working at disney and returning once more to schlesinger’s in 1942, leaving in 1944 (his cartoons running from 1943-1946) to head into the movie business. one of my favorite directors for sure with his sharp eye for cinematography and liberal use of line of action and dynamics.

another important first is that this is carl stalling’s first cartoon at warner bros! to label stalling as a genius would be an understatement. composing for over 600 cartoons and staying all the way until 1958, his scores greatly enhanced the impact of so many cartoons. his biggest shtick was accompanying scenes with literal, appropriate scores—if a character strikes it rich, “we’re in the money” would play. any scene involving a tree was usually accompanied by “in the shade of the old apple tree”. a character is hunting, you can count on an underscore of “a-hunting we will go”. it seems simple, but stalling pulled it off amazingly well and his music is an absolute delight to listen to.

in regards to the synopsis: porky’s been struggling with a declining population of chickens thanks to some hungry hawks. when another hawk snatches a chick, porky is determined to reunite the baby with its mother by any means necessary.

15 seconds in and frank tashlin already works his cinematography magic with this amazing pan. pan across an aerial view of a big farm, focusing on a line of chicken coops. we hone in on a flag that triumphantly reads “porky’s poultry plant”, a wonderful pan sliding down the pole and to the coops themselves as a leisurely rooster make his way out of the coop, yawning and stretching. he wanders over to a crate situated behind a microphone and a music stand, stepping on the crate and flipping the music open to reveille. a few clears of the throat and hearty slaps to the sides later, the rooster clucks reveille over the PA system.

one by one the hatch doors are opened from the coops, all sorts of birds streaming out. chickens, ducks, geese, you name it. elsewhere, porky himself steps out onto his porch and revels in the freshness of a new day. he stretches and announces (stutters) “boy, what a day!” the animation is truly hilarious as porky beats his chest repeatedly, so hard that he ends up in the midst of a coughing fit. he grins sheepishly at the audience and jogs away offscreen—a great first impression by tashlin.

porky pours some fresh seed into a tin pan from a chute, scattering it along the ground, calling for the animals to come and get it. all the chi-chi-chicks and du-du-ducks and gee-gee-geese come running, followed by a poor little chick who keeps getting swept up in the stampede. the animation of all of the animals running towards the feed is very smooth and satisfying to watch.

the birds move in droves, zigzagging in one giant pecking pack as porky tosses the seed back and forth on the ground. again, great animation. very frenzied with a lot going on. i’d hate to be the one animating it! the poor chick tries its damnest to get some food, but continues to get run over by the starving stampede. porky notices and frowns at the gaggle, but an idea hatches. he scoops a heaping handful of seed into his hand and fakes the birds out by pretending to throw it. the birds fall for it, running away, and porky pours the handful of food down just for the chick, who inhales it immediately and swells up like a tiny balloon.

more barnyard gags ensue. a duck scrapes corn off the cob with its beak in rows, porky feeds a gaggle of geese who get their long necks tied together in the midst of the rush (including a neat shot of porky tossing feed directly at the audience), and so on. a few chicks follow some worms who dive in their holes, and porky, grabbing a funnel, plays it like a pipe and acts like a snake charmer (porky the worm charmer!), the worms writhing out of the ground and getting sucked into the chicks’ mouths. this gag would be traced over in clampett’s chicken jitters, including a slightly incongruous large porky body with his smaller, more refined 1939 head.

transition to a much more somber mood. we see a poster with the profile of a hen on it reading “OLGA—STOLEN BY HAWK APRIL 6, 1936”. another hawknapped hen by the name of dorothy. we zoom out to see a teary eyed porky mourning the loss of his precious hens (one of them named petunia, sharing the name of porky’s girlfriend also created by tashlin in porky’s romance.) porky’s remorse fades to vengeance as he now confronts a giant poster with a menacing hawk on it (looks more like a vulture to me), hilariously labeled “PUBLIC CHICKEN ENEMY No. 1”. porky vows to exact revenge: “i’ll get you yet, you old buzzard!”

just the time to fade to a hawk floating around in the sky, searching for its next victim. it looks down at the ground and is immediately pleased, licking its chops in anticipation. it circles around an oblivious hen, who’s minding her business, pecking at the ground with her children nearby. clever staging as she spots the shadow of the overhead hawk and panics, attempting to wrangle her children as the hawk settles into a nosedive. porky spots the hawk and immediately runs to turn the crank on the “hawk alarm” (a siren.) panic and crisis ensues as all of the birds scramble to take shelter as the hawk zooms overhead. the speed isn’t as exaggerated as it could be (a small nitpick), but the sense of urgency is very much present.

the hawk has a particular chick cornered, dashing back and forth between the fence as the hawk’s shadow follows. now we have some nice exaggeration and speed as porky repeatedly fires a rifle, the impact so tremendous that he’s sent whirring backwards through a pond like a speedboat and sent crashing into an apple tree. tentatively, all of the birds poke their heads out of their respective hiding places to see if the coast is clear. it appears so. the mother hen is relieved... until she isn’t. she panics, hurriedly counting how many of her children are present. one appears to be missing. we see that the hawk overhead now has her missing chick in the safety of its talons.

now in a hysteric frenzy, the hen rushes up to porky, clucking like mad. a very clever decision to have her clucks briefly morph into decipherable english: “oh, my baby! oooooh, porky! look! look look look!” she points upwards, and porky does a take. he immediately rushes inside the barn to get something.

what follows is a sequence with nonstop great animation. we start with a straight in view as an airplane barrels towards the screen, the plane flying upward and curving slightly towards the camera before settling, porky inside. the plane feels very volumetric and three dimensional, and the animation is just mesmerizing. the hawk recognizes he has someone on its tail and panics—excessive bullets fired from porky don’t fare well either. we have some more stunningly beautiful camera angles as porky follows the hawk, shooting the tail feathers off of the hawk. the scene is urgent, fun, captivating, and exhilarating.

desperate, the hawk calls for help. a nearby flock of hawks overhear and follow, all taking off like airplanes and using a cliff as a runway. now porky is outnumbered. if the population of his foes wasn’t enough of a reminder that he’s being hunted, pulling his tail repeatedly serves as another suitable reminder. the hawks taunt porky, each plucking at his tail before dropping him back in the plane. another beautiful angle (this time an undershot) as we view the hawks bombing porky with a barrage of eggs.

more creative (and unseen) animation as porky ushers the hawks into a cloud, firing his gun. the camera jolts back and forth, back and forth, our only context clues being gunfire, crowing, and a chorus of “ow!”s. with that, porky comes out of the clouds the way he came, the hawks trailing HIM and now armed with his gun. the bullets spray the propeller, reducing it to nothing. some dizzying angles as porky is plummeting straight to the ground. a great number of shots one after the other, not even a second long. the chickens, porky, the laughing hawks, and then an upshot of a windmill. porky crashes straight into the windmill, which proves to be a worthy substitute for a propeller, the windmill blades situated right where the propeller used to be. porky is now back on track.

a scene that reminds me of many of tex avery’s “interlude” gags (like the train sequence in porky the wrestler, though to a much lesser extent), the hawks now form a huddle and converse. thus sparks a game of football, the rooster at the PA system from before (vocals by tedd pierce) providing the riveting commentary. hilarious animation as two hawks play monkey in the middle with porky, using the defenseless, unmoving chick as a ball. unfortunately for the hawks, one of them misses the throw (“and he fumbles!”). the chicken is now plummeting straight towards the ground.

porky immediately swoops in, the nervous hen from below passing out from the excitement. porky recovers the little chick, victoriously cradling it in his hands. but the chase isn’t over yet: the hawks are gaining furiously on porky. to retaliate, porky smothers them in a thick cloud of exhaust. sure enough it works: all of the hawks plummet to the ground, the chickens below even digging a giant hole for them to pile up in. once everyone is settled, the chickens cover the dirt up and you have yourself a grave. the cherry on top is the tedd pierce rooster forlornly placing a flower on top of the dirt mound.

finally, all is well. porky comes to a not so smooth landing, the plane rocking back and forth a few times before settling. he hands the chick back to the hen, reassuring “here’s your baby, henrietta. all safe and sound.” henrietta smothers her baby in reunion kisses and hugs. she clucks terms of endearment as she struts along, but the all too familiar shadow of a hawk stops her dead in her tracks. now in a frenzy, she rushes back to porky and alarms him, who wastes no time retrieving his rifle. porky aims, preparing to fire... and we zoom out to reveal the source of the shadow: a weather vane. iris out as porky points and laughs at his mistake.

i forgot how dynamic of a cartoon this was! i knew the opening shot of the flagpole was great, but i completely forgot how exhilarating the entire hawk chase scene was with all those wild angles. the exposition of the cartoon ran a little long in my opinion, but the snappy pace of the hawk scenes definitely make up for it. tashlin’s first cartoon and he’s already showing how great of a director he is! those angles can’t be beat and you need to see them for yourself. as heavy as tashlin’s vendetta against porky was (complaining there was nothing to do with him and that he took too long to talk), he characterizes him well. tashlin’s porky is certainly the most endearing out of the avery-tashlin-king trio. quite a few scenes of this cartoon were reused in clampett cartoons such as chicken jitters and wise quacks (though it’s my understanding clampett and tashlin were pretty good buds)—i can definitely see this cartoon’s influence in a lot of clampett’s barnyard cartoons. with that said, you should watch it! the hawk scenes especially. this cartoon is chock full of interesting angles and dynamics. very carefully crafted and fun to watch. and it’s tashlin’s first cartoon! give it a go!

link!

[pooktales]

A Hawkstrider Cowboy?

This topic came up in a chat recently... Have you ever felt like there's not enough canon about Hawkstriders? And what's it like to be a Blood Elf Hawkstrider rancher?

Sunthraze the Sly had to deal with these fussy, vain, ferocious birds all his life. His way of handling those birds eventually translated into excellent Blood Knight ass-kicking skills.

Let's watch, shall we? This takes place in the middle of an alt universe Kael’thas fanfic, “The Embarrassing Story of How I Became A Blood Knight”, Cpt 16: Chasing a Stray

One hot summer morning, Sunthraze was up on his Hawkstrider hunting down stray birds from his flock. While a swath of the blue and violet Hawkstriders lingered along the gold valley beyond him, he set out alone. Tall grass just beginning to go to seed swept by the toes of his boots as his red-black Hawkstrider followed the tug on its reigns or the slight pressure Sunthraze applied to its sides by squeezing his thighs. A breeze snatched bright, candy-colored hair loose from beneath Sunthraze’s wide-brimmed hat. He gripped the heavy rope lasso looped round the pommel of his saddle, let fly another charismatic whistle or two.

Sunthraze’s dog tramped along just behind them. A big hound that knew it wasn’t worth running as fast as the Hawkstrider could go, but was also well versed in the perfect accents of his master’s whistling. This one meant that the man with bright red hair, up on the Hawkstrider, had somehow spotted the stray first.

The dog picked up his gait a little, tail low. Sunthraze whistled again, more angrily this time, and his dog Gravy suddenly cut into a fiery race down into the next field.

“Damn dog. Sorrel, when your dog is about as resentful helping out with the flock as your so-called friends, you know that things are bad.” Sunthraze shook his head, then had to grasp his hat when the wind picked up again, “I even pay the dog. Technically.” Dinner scraps counted, right?

Money. Money for food, clothing, the house, and for everything. Money for a date. A date with Tempest. Tempest…

Her body, her red and white dress, her holding his guitar. That day alone with Tempest in the barn kept distracting Sunthraze. It had been weeks since. He’d gone down to the barracks once or twice to see Britecleff, and he managed to see her too, even if it was to whistle at her like he whistled at his dog so she could come running from whatever she was doing in the practice yard and leave that Pyorin behind for a moment or two. Then, Sunthraze made the mistake of explaining to Tempest how he’d learned to whistle like that. She tried to slap him, he stopped her, stole a kiss, had to run off. He was pretty sure both of them were laughing by the end of it. Still, though… it really wasn’t good enough. Not for a girl like her.

“Well, if this flock sells well, I’ll have some kind of money by the end of the summer.”

Would Tempest wait that long for him? What if Pyorin stopped being so stupid and got his act together? Tempest could easily dangle the fact that there was another man around in front of her boyfriend’s face. Then, Pyorin might straighten himself up. And flatten Sunthraze out.

But was Tempest even the sort of girl to play those kinds of games?

“…She’s so, so sexy.” Sunthraze got stuck on that again. Then, he indulged a dark laugh at himself, “Well, that settles it, then. None of my worries about her being a man trap could possibly be anywhere near relevant!”

Sunthraze remembered he had a dog and a stray Hawkstrider to look out for. He moved his hips and urged his own mount onward, faster. He hefted up the loop of rope in one hand, let it slip through his fingers as he and his mount gained momentum.

He whistled for his dog again. Sunthraze could suddenly hear both animals heading his way.

It was work, it wasn’t a carnival act. But when Sunthraze saw that big fussy green-blue male, the adolescent that was always kicking off on his own, now charging angrily right at him, plumage flared, something impulsive seized the young rancher. Anger and excitement roiled up. Some kind of lunatic ferocity seared through Sunthraze.

“Come on you big BASTARD! Hiyaah!” Sunthraze pulled on his mount, the two birds were now going head to head. But his Hawkstrider was trained to cut, and that’s just what they did together at the last moment. The dog helped, putting pressure on the same side where old Sorrel leaned in and snapped his beak.

Baby Blue, and it seemed Baby Blue knew Sunthraze was always making fun of him for calling him that, rustled his feathers as he veered off. But Baby Blue was getting puffed up because he’d got a shot of courage as well. The blue-green bird pecked at Sunthraze’s stirrup as he went by. That sharp beak nearly stabbed into Sunthraze’s foot. It forced Sunthraze to squeeze his red bird on that side with his leg, and that nearly put the whole effort off.

“Blue! You wanna get FRIED for dinner? Cause I’m just in the mood!” Now, Sunthraze rode up right behind the other bird. His dog was there too, staying up tight against its long legs, too close for the dark blue taloned feet to lash back and catch him. Both of them like hell on wheels on the creature that was making them work so hard in the summer sun, ruining their mornings.

Sunthraze whipped his arm around three times, fast, then let the lasso fly. It slipped around Baby Blue’s head and neck so fast, the bird didn’t know it, and he seemed genuinely surprised to find himself being dragged along by the man and red Hawkstrider he’d so insulted only moments ago.

“That’s right. Come with me now or get dragged, strangled and stuffed for dinner. Come on!” Sunthraze pulled the bird. His dog had slowed down again, a silvery gray lump sifting between the tall sheaths of grass, somewhere in the background.

Sunthraze imagined that if his dog Gravy could talk, that hound would be about as jaded and smartmouthed as he was. The moment they were all within shouting distance of the main flock, Gravy started lagging behind even further. Sunthraze cussed at his dog and gave another hard whistle for him to keep up. The dog did barely enough to keep Baby Blue hemmed in, and then peeled off for shade and quiet as soon as he had the chance.

Sunthraze was scowling, sweating and breathing hard when Sorrel brought him back alongside the other birds.

It’s not like he and his mother had a whole lot of money, but Sunthraze was very good at fast-talking strangers, Hawkstriders, more recently Farstrider rangers, and most certainly his own friends. He checked over to see if his buddies were still on their own Hawkstriders, keeping the flock tight in line. They were supposed to be moving them to the next foraging plain, where there were more shade trees and water.

His friends were all clumped together on their Hawkstriders, though. They weren’t supposed to be doing that, lingering. As he got closer, Sunthraze saw what the problem was. Another rider was there with them.

“Hey! This is private land, you can’t—”

It was Ranger Pyorin. And Pyorin looked more pissed off than Sunthraze had ever seen him before.

Sunthraze cussed himself, this time. Well, this would be the day, then. The day that Pyorin fought him over Tempest. Sat on him again, harder. Killed him. Worse. Pyorin sure looked ready for it. So, she did tell on him. Well, Tempest was probably tired of sneaking around, Sunthraze couldn’t blame her… Wait, how whipped was he already not to blame her?

“Well?” Sunthraze knew he was dead before he even got it out, “I’m ready if you are. Meathead.”

[pointlesstypedwords]

Stormy Weather (Daryl Dixon)

Pairing: Daryl DixonxReader/OC Summary: Daryl and OC have a bit of a complicated relationship, but work well together on runs. While on a Run a storm hits and they are forced to take shelter in an abandoned shed...  Word Count: 3,555 A/N: Long Tumblr user, first time tumblr fan fic post. I want to get back into writing fan fiction a bit and have had this stored on my computer for a while, it’s not the best but I wanted to do something with it. Feed back appreciated if anyone stumbles across this, I’ll take requests if anyone wants to ask. I do not own the gif used, credit to the original poster. 

   With a single exhale her breath caught the cold morning air, lingering for a moment before it wisped away. Normally Robyn would have admired the sight on a morning walk through the suburbs. She loved the way the early morning sunlight shine down through it with. It made her feel refreshed for the new day, but on this particular day it was a bitter reminder of how cold and dreary it truly was. And that was not just with the weather.

    So much had changed. Life had all but been turned upside down, but they were still hanging on, even if it were just by a thread.

    Thunder rumbled out from somewhere in the distance, making the world seem to go still for a moment, almost as if it were shocked. A sudden flight of birds flocking out from somewhere in the tops of the trees brought it all back into motion.

    Robyn raised her rifle, something that had all but come as a muscle memory movement in recent times, and trailed after the birds, looking for a target. Once she had found a target in the scope, she fired off a single round and watched the bird fall limply to the ground in the field across the road from where they had stopped for the night.

    “The hell you doin’?” Robyn heard a disgruntled voice come from behind her sounding as if they were still in a daze from waking up. And not much to her surprise she turned to see Daryl pulling himself up off of the ground from where he had fallen asleep the night before. “You tryin’ to bring every walker down on us?” He snapped, picking up his cross bow and taking his normal intimidating stance.

    Robyn let out a light laugh, suddenly feeling a strange amusement at the site; she had come accustomed to Dayrl’s morning grump that almost seemed ever present at times. “I’m multi-tasking actually.” She corrected him, lowering her weapon and adjusting the strap of the gun on her shoulder. “I’m trying to draw every walker near by to us, catch breakfast and wake you up because you’re burning daylight sleeping in like that.” She grinned before turning to the clouds. “The thunder should confuse them. We should be alright until after we’ve eaten.” Robyn flatly before she turned towards the direction of her fallen target, which she hoped, would be enough to fill the both of them.

    Daryl scolded at the woman as she walked away way through the thin layer of brush that hid them from the road. He then shook his head and turned his attention to the large grey mass above them that was almost hidden by the overhanging trees they had camped under the night before. She was right about the thunder throwing the walkers off, he could hear a low grumbling in the background, but he still didn’t think taking the risk to eat was worth hanging around to find out.

    But he was hungry and didn’t want to argue with her because it would be on going until they had both finished eating. In other words, Robyn was very good at multi-tasking and would use the time bickering to cook as well. How she had managed to do it in the past still confused Daryl to this day.

    Thinking to himself, Daryl had to guess that this was about their tenth or eleventh run with one another in the past month alone. Rick seemed to think that there was something lucky about the two going out on runs together because they got what they needed and did it quickly. Daryl on the other hand knew it was because they worked well together, despite the constant bickering. It was a love-hate relationship, but they both worked together in their own way to get things done as quickly as possible. At first Daryl had thought it was because the two could not stand each other, which was true at first but in time he had come to care for Robyn and admire the way she used her mind to come up with ideas that he would never had thought of. She also didn’t take any shit from anyone. There was just something about her that he could not put his finger on that kept him awake at times or where his mind drifted towards her. But he was also found something extremely frustrating and annoying about her as well. At times he wished he had just left her with the squirrels in the woods.  

    Daryl had been the one to find Robyn and bring her back to the prison almost six months ago, perhaps even more now. He had been hunting, thinking that he was alone and then all of a sudden there was a gun being held to the back of his head. Robyn had been broken off from her group for about two weeks at that time and was so desperate for food that she had contemplated killing Daryl for the few squirrels that he had. But somehow he had some how talked her out of not killing him for his squirrels and they had ended up at the prison after he had asked her the three questions. Lucky for her, her answers had passed both Daryl and Rick’s approval.

    How many walkers have you killed?

Too many to count

    How many people have you killed?

Five.

    Why?

To protect my family, friends and myself. Survival.

    By the time Robyn had gotten back from the field and managed to track down the bird she had shot out of the sky, Daryl had packed up what ever they had used to make their camp and had started a fire to cook. It didn’t surprise her, but still she wasn’t going to acknowledge it.

    “Here, make yourself useful.” Robyn said with a grin as she threw the limp bird at Daryl. She wasn’t sure what sort of bird it was, but it looked like some sort of duck.

    Daryl caught the duck against his chest and shook his head, automatically pulling at a few of the feathers and inspecting the bird. It was a good hit, a clean shoot and the bird looked healthy. It didn’t take him long to prep the bird to cook over the fire, which wasn’t as big as he would have liked it because of the wind but it would do. The bird also wasn’t that big, but it was better then nothing, it was a decent meal for being out on a three day run. Something to keep them going for the time being.

   As Daryl prepped the bird, Robyn looked away; she couldn’t bring herself to look. Even though she had been the one to shoot it down, she could not bring herself to cut an animal open if she could avoid it. It was an odd fear to have for someone who had extensive medical training as she was a nurse and had been raised by a hunter, but the fear it was still there none the less.

    “You know for someone who can hunt as well as I’ve seen you do, you’re a wimp.” Daryl said through clenched teeth as he held the knife in his mouth while pulling out the feathers from the bird.

    Robyn forced herself to look up just to give Daryl a filthy look, even though she knew it was the truth. She could shoot things all day long, but when it came to cutting in to an animal, she couldn’t do it.  She just didn’t have the stomach.

    Daryl didn’t take long to gut the bird; it was roasting on the fire and filling the air with mouth-watering scents in no time. But, much like predicted it was not enough to fill their stomachs, only enough to take the edge off both the hunger and their short tempers.

    Picking the remains of the bird from his teeth, Daryl paused for a second, glancing up at the sky. The low rumbling in the distance made his brow rise before he turned to Robyn frowning. “Big Storm is on the way, we should try to find somewhere to hold up.” He said lowly, lazily gesturing to the darkness in the sky that was slowly creeping closer.

    Robyn looked up from the pack she had been stuffing their things into and sighed as she realised how quickly the clouds were moving. “You don���t think we can make it back before the storm hits, it still sounds pretty far away.” Robyn stated, trying to sound hopeful, but the look on Daryl’s face made it vanish quite quickly.

    “No I think it will catch us and it’s better to be safe rather then sorry. It should have blown over by the morning, maybe even sooner if we’re lucky.” Daryl said flatly, pulling his leather vest on and moving towards the bike.

    Robyn watched the man and let out a heavy sigh in disgust that she hoped Daryl would hear and smiled as Daryl rolled his eyes, climbing on to the bike. As much as he was rough around the edges, she did like the man, but she just wanted to get back to the prison. Their run hadn’t been that successful, they had only found a few things like some paper and crayons for the kids and an assortment of clothes, but it didn’t even half fill the pack they had brought. She just wanted to go back home, not that the prison was much a home in the first place.

    Slinging the pack over her shoulder, Kayla let out yet another sigh and climbed on to the back of the bike behind Daryl, wrapping her arms around him and then waited for him to bring the bike to life and start off down the abandoned country road.

**

    As they rode along the empty, partly over grown road, the wind started to swift, causing the bike to zig zag slightly over the road, no matter how hard Daryl gripped the handle bars to keep the bike steady. The rain had hit, spitting down on them like miniature bullets, soaking them right down to their toes and leaving them shivering.

    The wind blew against them so hard that it was growing difficult to keep their eyes open and watch the road; Robyn had hidden her face on Daryl’s shoulder to avoid it. Leaves, sticks and dirt also blew around along with the rain, making it more dangerous by there second.

    Not a lot scared Daryl, but mother nature was at times a little intimidating, he knew it was getting worse and they needed to find shelter soon because the storm was catching up to them, but they were surrounded by nothing but overgrown grazing fields. He kept his eyes on the fields though, searching for any type of shelter, he wasn’t going to let anything happen to either of them on this run, especially considering how much of a failure it had turned out to be.

    As something came up in the distance, Daryl felt a sense of relief as he spotted a small, but sturdy looking building that they could ride the storm out in.

    “There’s a shack, I’m pulling over!” Daryl yelled over the howling of the wind rushing past them and the roaring of the engine of his bike.

    It took him a moment to get the bike to turn against the wind, but eventually made it through to the seeming over grown track that had been reclaimed since someone last drove up to the building in the distance. After one last burst of speed, they were in front of the building and climbing off of the bike.

    Daryl examined the building as they came to a stop, it didn’t look big to start off with, but now it just looked smaller. It was clearly just a storage shed that had run down from lack of upkeep and being exposed to the elements, but he doubted that they would find anything better right now and they needed something. He quickly turned the engine off and waited for Kayla to climb off before walking to the front of the bike.

    Robyn wasn’t fussed where they stayed for however long they had to wait the storm out, from the looks of the shack; she had had worse since everything had turned to shit. She had actually spent the night in a dumpster once in the beginning after her car had run out of fuel and she was on her own. Not exactly the most appealing thing to sleep in, but it was safe at least. “I’ll get the stuff, go see if it’s clear.” Robyn told Daryl who was unhooking his cross bow from the front of the bike. Daryl simply nodded and disappeared around a corner, walking slowly with his weapon at the ready. Robyn pulled the pack on her back and held the rifle in one hand, her knife in the other as she slowly followed Daryl around, though jumped as she rounded the corner, seeing the man walking in her direction, looking a lot more relaxed then how he had first ventured past the corner.

    “Bloody hell, you almost scared the shit out of me!” Robyn exclaimed, shaking her head as she let out a sigh, just thinking how he was lucky she hadn’t shot or stabbed him.

    Daryl looked at the woman as if she were insane and shook his head. “Keep your guard up.” He muttered, taking the rifle from her. “It’s empty, there’s some shit in there but it’s old, but there is a can of beans.” Daryl said, sounding a bit more positive then before.

    “Mmm, I wonder if they are still alright. The last can we found had white fur in it.” Robyn said with a laugh, following Daryl as he led the way into the shack.

**

     It wasn’t the biggest of buildings, but there was more then enough room for the both of them with the old shelving units and old abandoned tools as well. The ground was dirt but it was dry and the shack was sealed from the wind, there were a few holes but a few old rags and the wind was no longer whistling through. It was obvious that someone had used the shack as a shelter before them, but Daryl had stated that they were long gone.

    They ate the beans whilst attempting to dry off, at least the shack was sealed against the wind and rain. Every so often there was a gust of wind that made the entire shack creek, but it seemed it would hold.

    Even though it wasn’t exactly the safest of options, they attempted to start a fire but were unsuccessful because nothing seemed to want to light. Robyn could tell that Daryl was growing frustrated with nothing to do but wait, but everything just seemed to fall silent. At least they were not arguing and had semi filled stomachs, the beans and the bird had hit the spot for the time being.

    After about forty-five minutes of sitting with her legs up against her chest, Robyn moved and let out a sigh. “How long do you think until it blows over?” She asked, looking up to the roof and listening to the storm battering away outside.

    “No way of telling.” Daryl grumbled, picking at the chipped piece of wood he had found on the ground.

    Robyn stared at Daryl and rolled her eyes, at times she enjoyed how blunt he was, but in others she wished he could at least try and humour her. “It’s a good think neither of us are claustrophobic.” Robyn said in an attempt to pass the time by and get a conversation flowing, but as she only received a grunt in response from Daryl.

    “You smell like a drowned rat.” Robyn said, this time taking on more of a plan of attack, both to see if this was the way to get Daryl to talk to her, or to just amuse herself to fill in the time.

    “Shut up.” Daryl snapped, narrowing his eyes at Robyn and then turned away. He usually didn’t care what anyone said about him, but he didn’t appreciate the way Robyn had said it.

     “You shut up.” Robyn responded, with a bit of a coy smile, as she was glad to finally get a word out of him.

     “You’re the one who started talkin’!” Daryl sat up; glaring at her as he noticed that she was smiling. His tone took on a bit of a nasty turn, which he had not intended, but was also glad that made her look away and frown. He didn’t want to upset her, but he didn’t enjoy being insulted for her amusement.

    Silence consumed the inside of the Shack once again and Robyn knew she had turned the tone sour with what she had said. It seemed like an eternity until one of them even blinked, let alone moved.

    Robyn could feel the boredom eating away at her, she knew she was going to have to apologise for her cheap jab at Daryl before he would talk to her.  “I’m sorry.” She said, looking over at Daryl in his corner of the shack.

    Daryl simply looked at the woman in the other side of the shack and gave her a stiff nod, though didn’t walk, meaning they were left in silence again.

    Robyn didn’t know how much time had passed since she had last spoken to Daryl, but she was woken by a crashing and saw a figure of Daryl running at the window with a tarp. “What the hell is going on?” She asked, getting to her feet and pulling up the rifle.

    “Something hit the roof, things are getting rough in there, hand me that old tarp so I can cover this thing.” Daryl said urgently, gesturing to one of the shelves.

    Robyn looked to one of the shelves and saw the tarp Daryl was looking at, she pulled it from the box and then passed it to him, standing there like a clueless idiot as he fixed the window so the storm would stay outside.

   “That should do it.”  Daryl said a moment later, stepping down from the box he had been standing on, though he almost fell on to Robyn, making them both stumble slightly.

    Robyn wasn’t exactly sure what happened but Daryl was falling on her one moment and the next his arms were around her and his lips were on her own, just gently and only for a second before they pulled away.

    Daryl pulled away, almost shocked in himself at what he had just done. He knew he liked Robyn, no matter how much of a pain the arse she was, but he didn’t think he liked her that much and by the look on her face she was as shocked as he was.

     “Sorry.” Daryl mumbled, feeling his cheeks begin to warm.

    “No, it’s alright, I just wasn’t expecting it..” Robyn said with a nervous laugh and scratched the back of her neck, looking up at him, though she knew an awkward silence was about to fall over them again. Daryl only nodded as she told him how she felt.

    “I miss being close to someone…” Robyn said suddenly, saying the first thing that came to her mind that was somewhat relevant. The kiss had reminded her what it was like to have someone who actually cared about. “I miss my family…” She said a moment later, looking as she twiddled her thumbs.

    Daryl looked at the girl and let out a sigh, grumbling as he moved to get more comfortable. “I’d say the same but my family were arseholes..” Daryl chuckled to himself as he shook his head. He did miss Meryl in some ways, but he also didn’t.

   “Mine weren’t.” Robyn said grimly, looking towards the window.

    “Lucky you.” Daryl said dryly, looking away, he felt somewhat embarrassed.

    “Yeah, I was.” Robyn said, looking to Daryl for a moment. “Did you at least have anyone close?” She asked curiously, ignoring his slightly aggravated bashful behaviour.

    “Not really.” Daryl said, running his tounge over his lips as he looked to the roof where the tarp was holding, but only because the storm was starting to die down.

    Robyn nodded, taking in what Daryl had said. “What about me? Do you think we could be close?” She asked, a small smile coming to her lips.

    Daryl looked at the woman and sighed. “Maybe.” It was possible.

    “I think we could. You just kissed me after all.” Robyn pointed out, laughing to herself as she was enjoying how she had managed to make Daryl Dixon blush without even trying.

    “Shut up.” Daryl snapped, once again glaring at her.

     “Well it’s the truth.” Robyn said quietly, grinning at him.

     Daryl took one looked at Robyn, shook his head and then once again, placed his hand on her cheek and pulled her closer, though this time he wasn’t as gentle. He had had enough of the woman’s torments and if kissing her was the new solution to shutting her up when she was playing at one of her games, then he would carry on doing it..

[silvermp]

Flock Together - Part 4 (Kokoro)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

Kokoro was the second daughter of the first crow demon.

She was tasked with protecting the Northern Roost - a colony where crow demons would grow and live, coming together to breed and raise their young. A small glen of marshy woodland, just off the coast.

They had been happy and prosperous, for a long while.

News came of one of the human villages, and their success in deciphering the demonic script that could seal a bijuu. Frightened by the possibility of another Ten-Tails, she directed her Roost to work with the other demons, to eliminate that knowledge.

Overconfident with their abilities, and too prideful to call for help, her Murder was quickly subdued by the developing seal-masters. Seals of power, written in the demon’s own script, bent the ‘Truth’ of a demon, and forced them to obey .

Her own murder led them back to the Roost.

When she returned, there was nothing but shattered wood and battered reeds. In the broken pieces of her home, her heart and honor shattered with it.

Ashamed, she directed the remaining members to join the Southern Roost. Told them to be wary of humans, to hide their home.

In an act of vengeance, she whispered into the ears of other birds, who spread her words to the nearby nation.  

“Uzushiogakure has demon-controlling seals ” she spread, and watched the sleeping beasts of Kiri and Kumo raised their heads, and readied their ninjas. “ They have forced contracts with aggressive demons, and already made a strike against an opposing clan, in another nation’s borders.”  

All of this was true, after all.

Her Roost had lain within the borders of the Land of Hot Water, and they had never agreed to the contract. There was easy proof, for anyone who cared to look.

Kiri and Kumo became hurried allies, and struck both suddenly, and with devastating effect.

Within three days, the Land of the Whirlpools had been obliterated, their humans scattered to the four winds. One should never underestimate the fear humans possess in their hearts, for the strength of a Great Tailed Demon.

Still, ‘eye for an eye’ hadn’t restored her honor, and she knew the secrets of their language were taken with the humans who escaped. The art of sealing still lingered.

Kokoro lived alone for many years, acting as a forest guardian, keeping the peace between other lesser demons as a messenger and neutral third party.

Her mistakes weight heavy in her heart.

Eventually, she got word that her sister had been killed, in a skirmish with humans who wanted to develop their town into the Roost’s territory.

One of her old subjects had hunted her down to inform her of the fact, and invited her back.

Refusing the invitation to leadership, Kokoro decided to have a child, to carry on her legacy and take over the Southern Roost. A child in the direct line of the first crow demon, one who was unsullied by her failure.

But the child was Kuroko.

And Kuroko did not inherit a measure of her mother’s memories, as a full-blooded demon should have.

Kuroko did not mature to adulthood as soon as she hatched. She did not mature within hours to full adulthood, and could not speak at first.

Even after the shadowjump forced her Chakra through the girl’s body and Kuroko learned to speak, things… still weren’t right.

She didn’t instinctively know how to feel for Chakra, or the shadows, which were their birthright. She ate physical food when hungry, matured like a mortal bird, shed feathers like a mortal bird... She had to learn to fly, and train her muscles like they were actual tissues, and learned so slowly it was almost physically painful to watch.

She acted like a mortal bird, not like a demon who emulated a bird’s form.

Compared to the countless young crow demons she had helped raise in the Southern Roost, she wondered if the other dead eggs of her clutch should have clued her into what was coming.  

But…

Kuroko was so happy when she succeeded at the silliest things, and turned to look at her mother for approval. She did try her best, and purred with happiness whenever Kokoro gave her the slightest affection.

She was a wonderful daughter.

Kokoro loved her.

Her blood was pure, yet the girl’s heart seemed more mortal than demon.

She could not lead the Roost.

She resented her daughter, for that.

And then hated herself for thinking it.

The self hatred manifested as an injury, as spiritual wounds did for her kind. Every time her daughter struggled with something she should have been born knowing, Kokoro felt a flicker of that resentment and then the corresponding blade of pain shooting across her foot when it inevitably morphed into self disgust.

If she let those emotions grow any bigger, it might spread to more important areas.

Steeling herself, Kokoro turned the Roost’s occasional visits to help with border patrols into a steady return, easing back into the flock. They seemed to accept her without a problem, but she knew trying to grab for power so suddenly after refusing for so long would not go over well.

She left Kuroko to the wolves more often than not, telling her to practice this and that, trying to get her daughter’s body strong enough to survive as a crow, if not a demon.

And then the Southern Roost seemed to be invaded in earnest, and she had to help them. Unsure if she’d even return, Kokoro quickly instructed Kuroko on Shadow Listening, trying to hide the deep relief she felt when the girl was able to grasp it.

The crow demons were mobilized, and she sent her daughter to the Foxes, in the hopes she would struggle through the journey and grow on her own.

She didn’t have much hope.

By the time Kokoro got back to the Southern Roost, the human invaders had already been pushed back.  Something niggled at her heart, that the worst was yet to come. Still, she organized patrols and ensured her crows would have their eyes throughout their land, whispers coordinated through the shadows.

They seemed receptive to her, and one of the older crows straight up asked if she would step up to lead the clan or not. Kokoro sidestepped the question, buying herself a little more time.

Her sister’s Roost, and what was left of her old Roost - they needed her. They needed the guidance, and someone to organize them.

But so did her daughter, and she knew the girl wouldn’t survive a week under the criticizing gaze of a flock that expected any offspring of hers to be their next leader. If she showed weakness - WHEN she showed weakness, they’d revolt - both against her daughter, and against herself.

The gods wouldn’t curse the child of a good leader, after all. It was already a risk, letting the wolves and foxes know about her. Thankfully, they seemed to accept her.

With the potential of a full invasion on the horizon, she didn’t have much of a choice.

She had step in to take her sister’s place, and leave her daughter behind.

Her heart was still heavy when she slid through the shadows, to the tall pine tree that marked the fox’s territory. Her daughter was unusually quiet, and seemed fine not talking.

That was good, she didn’t want to do this in front of the foxes. They at least, still had faith in her, if not in her child. She did not miss the scornful looks they shot at Kuroko’s back, when she had asked how the girl’s training had gone.

Not well, they said. No progress.

Somehow, the news couldn't even make her feel worse than she already did.

She returned the two of them to the nest, a leaden ball pulling down her heart.

She had to make a choice.

Her daughter’s happiness, or the Roost’s safety.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t much of a contest.