#you're cutting corners of feed and/or hygiene

[sassyhazelowl]

Sometimes, on the quail groups, I wonder what exact people do with their quail to get such poor results. Coturnix are not that hard to hatch and raise. They are literally the easiest bird I have on my property. If you have a decent incubator and take basic steps to ensure you have good eggs and good brooder practices, you shouldn't have low hatch rats/high chick mortality. 85-100% hatch rates are fairly easy to obtain with mature hens, good breeding ratios and proper nutrition for the breeders (aka not chicken feed). You shouldn't be having issues with DIS or failure to thrive or wryneck or clubfoot/splayed leg or crossbeak if you put any effort at all into picking and maintaining your breeders well. You shouldn't have to do a lot of hard culling after a few generations let alone 3/4ths of your hatches. Your hatch rates shouldn't be 25-30% from your own eggs.

This is not survival of the fittest - this is negligence and poor husbandry.

[thethistlegirlwrites]

😴🧼🤕🌂✂️💉 for whichever characters you darn well please :)

You are getting Emma Cole today because I know you love her!

hc + 😴 for a sleep-themed headcanon

If Emma is going to have to sleep in a coffin full of dirt, she's going to make it *comfortable*. She's got the soil layering down to a science, bought a memory foam pad and cut it to fit the bottom of her coffin, and has planted a few lavender plants in the soil around her head. They didn't do well in the original grave earth, tainted by vampire magic, but when she got some in their own little pots and just set the pots in the soil, it works out fine. They're easier to take out and change when she switches out the soil, and she turns a little sun-lamp on them when she gets out in the evening.

hc + 🧼 for a hygiene-themed headcanon

Emma is very careful about how she shows blood from her feedings. It's a status symbol among vampires to leave a little blood on your lips or the corner of your mouth, flaunting your real nature and saying you're above any worries of being caught, but she's also conscious of how she presents herself to the humans that frequent her club. If Emma is visibly showing signs of feeding, it's generally a power move on her part, either because she's entertaining VIP club patrons, meeting with fellow coven leaders, or maintaining her cover while talking with hunters.

hc + 🤕 for a pain-themed headcanon

Breaking a sire-bond without killing the sire results in chronic headaches and an unquenchable blood hunger as the sire's influence attempts to reassert itself. The further removed, in time and space, the fledgling is from the control, the less exertion is needed to maintain mental shielding, but the effort of holding up the barrier also contributes to the headaches and hunger. Emma spent the first few years as a new fledgling under the protection of an 'open' coven, one not headed by the sire of any members, operating out of Chinatown, for protection while she got a grip on her block on Arion.

hc + 🌂 for a weather-themed headcanon

Emma is actually quite fond of the aftermath of sunny days. Her sire's alignment means that she is one of the rare vampires who favor heat and fire, so she likes going out just after sundown to feel the warmth rising off the pavement and bask in in before she opens her club for the evening.

hc + ✂️ for a hair-themed headcanon

When she prepared to fight another vampire for control of the Luna's current location, Emma shaved her hair short so it couldn't be used against her in the fight. Since she needed blood to heal from the encounter, and as a vampire her hair will always revert to its state at the time of her turning whenever she drinks human blood, it was grown to her previous shoulder-length as soon as the fight was over.

hc + 💉 for a medical-themed headcanon

In her early days as club owner, Emma was clinging tightly to her determination not to drink human blood except as a last resort (the last time it was needed was her battle for control). When she sustained a small injury in a fight with a belligerent clubgoer, she attempted to treat it the way she would have as a human. However, vampires cannot heal aside from drinking real blood, so the wound remained open and eventually became infected. An infection in the technically 'dead' body of a vampire spreads rapidly and risks sending them into a permanent coma, but John noticed the spreading streaks of black and red on her arm while talking to her at the club and gave her some of his own blood in a glass to stall the infection until he retrieved bagged blood from Chimera for her. Since then, Emma has been a lot less stubborn about healing herself when needed, but she always makes sure her real blood is from a source she knows and trusts to have gotten it ethically (usually John).

Thank you so much for the ask, hope you enjoy these!

Asks from this post.

[incorrectlyplacedeyeballs]

The Devil made me do it, but I also kinda wanted to

This is a fanfic I have been writing for a while now on ao3, and I decided to transfer the first chapter over. Basically it's just about Jon giving in to the eye.

TW for attempted suicide

Jon itched.

It wasn't some normal itch, or some strange manifestation of the Flesh, it was a cruel, constant itch that filled his entire body with the want, the need to give in to his desires, to plunge into that dark and icy well of inhumanity. But he couldn't. He knew he couldn't. However he had dressed it up to the others, it was him who attacked those people. He chose to do that, to feed on them, knowing full well what it would do, and that knowledge plagued him like an infected limb.

But it was as Helen had said- When has your guilt, or your sadness, or your hand-wringing ever actually stopped you from doing what the Eye wants? And she was right. No matter what, he would always give in. It was that or death.

Which was, he supposed, what had lead him here, to a dark corner of his flat, with a bottle of strong alcohol and a pocket knife, to remove one more monster from the world.

But it didn't work.

Because of course it fucking didn't. The Eye wouldn't let him go that easily, and so he was stuck here, in a rapidly-regenerating pool of blood. He took a swig of the bottle, hoping desperately to numb the desperation, but as soon as is mind started to fog, it cleared, somehow sharper than before.

He tried once more, cutting at any part of himself that he thought could harm him, but all the wounds just did nothing. A new course of action was needed

Jon stood up, hearing vertebrae crack and immediately heal (How long had he been sitting there?), and got to clearing up. He mopped up most of the blood, and threw the bottle into the bin. Then he turned attention to himself.

It was probably the first time he had looked at himself properly in months. The cuts had healed already, like all non-entity related injuries he got, but that was possibly the only positive. His hair was unkempt, his clothes were crumpled and stained, and it was quite clear that he had not bothered with personal hygiene in some time. He went to take a shower and put on some new clothes, all the while considering his options.

He obviously couldn't give up in that extent, and he wasn't sure he wanted to outside of the sporadic spirals of madness. Going back clearly wasn't an option either. He supposed he could just run off from all civilisation, and hope he would get used to the discomfort, but somehow he was certain that he just would end up going back. That left him with two options- continue as he was, fending of the need for statements and ignoring the disgusted looks from his co-workers, or-

Or he could give in.

The realisation hit him like a bullet. The Eye wouldn't stop the guilt, but he could. He was already so far from human, would it really be that difficult to sever the final ties? He could live easier, occasionally feeding off of people, and the rest of time existing normally. Better, even. He wouldn't have to worry about food, or illness, or any other trivial parts of human life. He could do whatever he wanted, with no confines, no morality to-

He shook his head violently. He mustn't think like that. His humanity was the only thing keeping him going, and he couldn't let go of it. He didn't want to end up like Elias, or Annabelle, or god forbid-

His thoughts were cut of by the sound of a door opening.

Shit.

"What do you want, Helen?" he growled.

"Oh, well I was in the area, and I thought you might appreciate some company!" the surreally-framed creature grinned. It's arms twisted behind it's back and came back with an opaque, multicoloured bottle. "It's not very often that a new Avatar joins us, and so I like to mark the occasion!"

Jon scowled. "So you're here to gloat then."

"Gloat? Me? Never! I just wanted to make sure you were settling okay, and catch up a little! I would never do something as petty as gloating."

And somehow, he believed it. "Fine." he sighed. "I'll see if I have some glasses."

A few minutes later, he and Helen were sat at the small coffee table in his living room, drinking the carbonated wine Helen had brought. Helen had changed to it's more humanoid form, at around six foot with hair that curled just slightly to much to be physically possible.

"You know," it started, breaking the silence, "I felt scared too, when I first joined the Spiral."

Jon took a sip of his champagne flute of iced hot chocolate. "You mean Helen did, before you stole her body."

"For the last time, I am Helen! The Eye would tell you that too, if you let it. I went into those hallways, I found the centre, and I made the choice to survive. I chose to become inhuman, and in doing so, the last bit of Helen Richardson was preserved. And now look at me!"

Jon groaned into his mug of hot fanta. "I don't have much choice but to trust you, do I?"

"Well, you could just Know, but things that touch my area of expertise tend to leave viewers with a rather nasty headache, or so I'm told."

"Because god forbid the Eye show me something useful." he grumbled.

"But it could, Archivist. It could show you everything you want and more. You just have to let it."

"I can't- It's not that simple. Letting the Eye in would sacrifice my humanity, it would destroy-"

"Oh who cares, Jon." Helen interjected, swirling her bowl of melted sprinkles. " You would be doing what it takes to survive, not just for fun. There are actual humans out there that would still have less humanity than you. You wouldn't even kill anyone!"

"Look, I will think about it. This isn't something I can just do overnight."

"Tough" said Helen, standing to it's full height, it's mouth and hands lengthening. "You can't just keep putting this decision off. I'm giving you two options. Either you accept who you are, or I put you out of your misery, once and for all."

Jon opened his mouth, about to finally take his passage out. But something made him stop. Why did he have to die because of something he couldn't control? Why was he to blame, despite not being aware of what was going on through almost everything? He may of been a monster, but he was just doing what was needed to survive. There were much worse things to do than that. He inhaled, steadied himself and came to a new decision, one he never thought he'd make.

He laughed, relief washing over him. "I accept."

Almost as soon as he said these words, a surge of sensation surged over him. It felt like he was remembering every statement he had ever taken or recorded, but with even more detail. He could feel the emotion of every single person, all of the terror they produced.

And it felt great.

Green light flooded his vision, and he became so gloriously aware. He could sense people near him, could feel their fear, recall there experiences, ripe for taking. None supernatural of course, but they too would come in time. He felt the skin all over his body rupture, as thousands of eyes all opened and then closed, as if to simply make him aware of them.

When he regained a sense of himself, he was kneeling on the floor, with Helen looking at him with an expression of glee. "How does it feel, Archivist?"

He moved his arms, noting the complete lack of discomfort all over his body. He thought back to himself just a few minutes ago, all set to give up, and could barely recognise himself. The euphoria wouldn't last long without feeding, but in the meantime he felt completely invincible, his lengthened existence stretched out in front of him, filled with possibilities.

He grinned, and for the briefest of moments, his eyes flashed green. "Should have done this a long time ago."