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awkwardbluefish · 4 years

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The Two Abnormal Bats

Summary: When Errol delivers some letters, he also delivers a surprise for the whole family. Turns out Tim wasn't the only Wizard in this family.

A/n - Double edited :3

Tim gazes down at the brown owl that just slammed himself into his face, spluttering out feathers and dirt. Now that was a wakeup call. Despite the unusual morning greeting from the Weasley’s family owl he couldn’t help the smile twitching at his lips. Errol was just as much apart of the Weasley’s as everyone else was. Errol flaps his wings, cawing and somehow managing to fly himself backwards into Bruce’s French toast and eggs with an offending hoot.

Jason shows no shame, laughing heartily at the bird and most importantly, Bruce’s offended expression. Dick lets out a full blown belly laugh as Errol shakes off his feathers, hooting at them in offence. Tim chuckles softly, especially when he sees the look of curiosity and want on Damian’s face as he gazes at the owl with an intensity he always seems to get around animals. Bruce, however, is a different story. Still half asleep with yolk being splattered on his face by a shaking owl he stares at the room, blinking slowly and then frowning at his ruined breakfast and the owl blinking up at him curiously. Alfred, the god, is already making another plate but Tim can see the amused twitch of his lips as he piles on two more frenched toasts and some eggs.

Rolling his eyes in fondness and soft amusement Tim calls for Errol, a smile stuck on his lips. Errol squawks at him, eyes seemingly lighting up at the familiar face before stumbling forwards with various letters tied to his knobbly legs. A laugh escapes his lips at the sight of the poor thing waddling across the table, not before witnessing Errol giving Bruce a hoot for leaving his breakfast where poor and clumsy owls can land in them. Jason wheezes in the background as Damian stares, quite literally transfixed at the sight. Reaching for the package and letters tied around Errol’s leg, Tim has a feeling he knows exactly who it’s from.

With scarred and bruised fingers he unties the ribbon on one of two scrolls and begins to scan the letter, internally sighing as a very pointed cough is directed at him. Tim raises a brow as Dick but his oldest brother merely grins cheekily back. A sigh escapes his lips and he nods, knowing the cheeky grin is much better than the stern one Bruce is attempting to give him with egg yolk drying on his face. Rolling his eyes and frowning at the lack of privacy he scratches gently at Errol’s feathers, ignoring Damian’s jealous filled glare and Jason’s grin.

With a sigh he began reading, smile turning his lips upwards at the familiar frenzied writing of no other than Molly Weasley;

‘Hello Timothy. How are you doing during these fine holidays? Good I propose! The twins always look ecstatic when they get a letter from you. Not up to anything too cheeky I hope but I suppose boys will be boys-,’ Tim huffs a fond laugh, shaking his head at the woman he has accidently called mum more than once. Molly Weasley was a fallen angel sent to earth. ‘-‘-How’s your break been? I just know you’ve been doing the assignments the teachers have been handing out. Maybe you could teach my boys a few things. As much as I appreciate their future choices I still want them to pass their 6th year! I’ll see you at kings cross station with the kids. I pray this year is calmer than the others! P.s your letter from Hogwarts is here as well, the owls keep getting muddled up! Or maybe that’s just Errol wanting some attention from you…” Tim looks at the signature and smiles, good old Molly. His smile gets a little softer at the birthday message and the wristwatch charmed to stick on the page. He laughs softly and decided to pull the present from the page later. That was his and there was no need for the others knowing, or questioning, about it.

“Mrs Weasley, I presume?” Alfred queries, brushing his hands on the apron as Bruce chews on his toast slowly. Tim gazes up from the letter, scratching Errol’s feathery head with gentle fingers, and nods with a content hum. Dick makes a little sound in the back of his throat as Alfred nods thoughtfully.

Alfred hasn’t met Arthur or Molly, no one in the family has besides Tim. They would be a force to be reckoned with, he muses quietly. And Tim knows this because he knows the three of them would get along brilliantly. Alfred would be happy to share muggle items with Arthur and willing to tell many stories. Molly would have a field day just chatting with Alfred and making various marvellous and scrumptious foods.

After feeling himself up for any gold coins he finds two nickels in his pyjama pants. He places the gold coins in Errol’s pouch, holding his arm out. As expected, Errol happily jumps on and Tim guides them to the kitchen window. With one final affectionate head rub he shoos the bird of through the widely open window. Errol hoots at him happily before spreading his wings and soaring through the air in his clumsy yet somehow majestic way.

Tim watches the owl for a good second, winching as Errol somehow managed to crash into a tree. With a small laugh at the hooting owl who looked like he was about to give his best attempt to fight the leafy thing he makes his way back to the table. “Molly, Mrs Weasley, is the mum of some of my friends at Hogwarts,” Tim explains, “the twins,” he elaborates.

Bruce nods tiredly, wiping his face and smudging the yolk. The other three glance at each other curiously, well aware that their brother was usually writing frequently to his friends. The common name that came up were George and Fred as well as Lee. The first two were usually referred to as the ‘twins.’ With a grumble his adoptive father gestures to the two envelopes resting on the dining table next to the unrolled scroll from Mrs Weasley.

The first one was addressed to Tim. How couldn’t it be? “Timothy Drake. Wayne Manor, second floor to the right. Room two on the left.” Snickering at the astounded and wary looks he receives he happily, and nostalgically, opens the letter a little too eagerly. Maybe the eleven year old in him never truly left.

The shining and glimmering ticket of platform nine and three quarters is the first thing he sees. He pulls it out carefully, rolling his eyes as Dick is quick to snatch it only for Bruce to steal it from him. The other two scrolls of paper were a list of items he would need for his 6th year and a handwritten letter from Dumbledore, reassuring Tim he was still welcome at Hogwarts despite his trouble making and night-time activities. He grumbles at the mention of N.E.W.Ts and scrubs at his face. Looking back up at his family he finds Bruce looking at the ticket with furrowed brows and Alfred glancing at the materials list with curios eyes.

He places them aside and flips the other envelope over in his hands. Eyelids peel back to reveal shocked blue eyes. Slowly he clamps his mouth shut, raising a brow in interest. What was the chance of that?

“Timmy?’ Dick asks, brows raised and expression as open as any normal eleven year old. He was worried and yet oh so curios. “Something wrong?”

“Not at all,” he says slowly. He looks up and meets Damian’s curious gasze with a slowly forming smile. “Its not for me. This letter is for Damian and by the looks of it, it’s the acceptance letter for Hogwarts.”

Ignoring Dick and the rest he pulls out the thicker envelope. His eyes scan the words but his brain can’t seem to comprehend it.

Tim’s leaning against stone as he waits for the gremlin to hurry up. The gremlin is a wizard and Tim has to take him to Diagon Alley and he wouldn’t mind it, not really. Normally he wouldn’t but the fuss the others are making over it is turning his stomach. They never showed this much concern over Tim, not once. Annoyance flickers and twirls within his stomach and he frowns, folding his arms close to his chest. He was being selfish. This is clearly Damian’s first time doing anything magical. Of course the others would be concerned, especially when they couldn’t come with. They could, but Tim hadn’t told them that. He doesn’t need to take care of three children and one weary grown man.

“The shops will be closed if we wait any longer,” Tim calls to the group.

Bruce eyes him, eyes hidden with an emotion Tim couldn’t identify. Tim wasn’t sure he wanted to identify it. Hesitantly Bruce nods, releasing his large palm from Damian’s shoulder to ruffle his hair. He doesn’t step back. Dick lets out a whine, rubbing his cheek against Damian’s filled with baby fat one before being tugged away by an incredibly amused Jason who happily dumps the boneless man on the floor. Emerald eyes roll in exasperation before the boy steps up to him and Tim can see his excitement and his fear in his stance.

“About time,” he teases to hopefully lighten up the mood. All he gets is a fierce scowl and crossed arms. Bruce raises an unimpressed brow. Sighing through his nose he shakes his head and rises from his leaning post. “Grab a pinch of powder and say ‘Diagon Alley,’ make sure you say it clearly.” Tim warns despite the look Damian’s giving him.

“What happens if he don’t Timbo?” Jason sings looking quite amused. Dick pales and springs up from the floor, appearing seconds away from grabbing Damian and making a run for it. Bruce’s stance goes rigid, looking a second from banning Damian from doing anything relatively magical in his life.

Tim rolls his eyes, annoyance and loneliness tugging at his gut. “He could end up anywhere, anyone who has a floo network that sound similar to what Damian says.” Tim answers honestly, hoping Bruce doesn’t do anything drastic and forbid Damian from doing magic. Like he tried to do with Tim when he had found out.

Dick gawks, mouth open and eyes shimmering in fear. Bruce’s eyes narrow dangerously, stepping forward and pressing a heavy hand on Damian’s shoulders. He doesn’t stop Tim from pinching some powder from the bag though so maybe he trusts him. Even if it was only a bit. Tim shrugs and holds the golden bowl in front of him for Damian to do the same.

He steps into the fireplace, that some Wizards and Witches helped to reconstruct and connect to the floo and lets the powder sprinkle down and cling to cloth and cover the ash golden. He doesn’t gaze at his family, knowing those eyes will be wary of what he does next. It is magic after all, and they never once trusted it. Instead he simply says those two words, clear but quiet. Without another word he lets the flames lick at his skin until the sensation is gone, he opens his eyes to find himself in Diagon alley with its usual hustle and bustle.

Tim waits for Damian as chatter fills his ears and a smile stretches across his lips. He was nearly home.

Normally the September of 1st takes ages. This year was no different, especially with everyone quizzing him about the magical world now that Damian was attending. They were never interested in it before. With a frown marring his features he once again tells Damian they need to hurry. He shouldn’t take his anger out on the boy. It wasn’t his fault, especially as it must be a little hard when everyone is fussing over him and refusing to let the boy go.

They’re in London (Bruce might just be warming up to the floo network now) and Tim’s going to scream in a second. The train leaves at exactly eleven o’clock and it’s already ten fifty-five. Tim’s scowling as he walks up to them, grabs Damian with a forced goodbye to the family in front of him who don’t seem to care that Tim’s will be gone just as long as Damian will. He wasn’t even offered a hug, let alone a second glance. Ironic he thinks bitterly as he strides through the doors of the station. Damian trots after him like a lost puppy and Tim calms down enough to explain the entrance to the Hogwarts Express as they weave through the crowd.

Damian gives him a doubtful look so Tim, not knowing what to do, feels rather relieved when a young witch rushes past them, right at the brick wall between platform nine and ten they just arrived at. Damian stares, a schooled expression painted on his face. Tim smiles behind his hand, easily spotting the slight, controlled shock as Damian twists, staring at the muggles who simply bustle past.

“These people must be blind.” Damian states. Tim huffs a laugh, reminding himself to tell the boy about the enchantment as he cocks his head at the brick wall, a gesture to go. Damian doesn’t move, going rigid. He was scared, wary and Tim understood that but time was running low and he felt the undeniable urge to bash his head on a wall. Somehow, he refrains, knowing he’d simply fall through as he did a couple years back. Fred and George will never let him live it down, especially when they know they were the cause of him attempting to put himself in a coma.

So instead he starts jogging at the very solid looking wall, ears picking up a breath hitching in the distance. For a second there’s silence before Tim hears the familiar sound of the trains horn and emotional blubbering from young children and parents alike. Damian passes through a second later, an unguided look of honest to god shock and Tim’s rushing them to the luggage area. A worker kindly helps the two, despite a certain gremlins protest, and Tim and Damian finally bored the train.

After months Tim was going home. Where he belonged.

Somehow, they manage to find a compartment that has no occupation. Damian sits across from Tim, gently petting Alfred the cat who purrs happily. In Diagon Alley it had been near impossible to convince Damian he couldn’t purchase any of the animals. Tim had to convince the pouting boy that he could bring Alfred, after all the black feline would be incredibly lonely without Damian. Bruce wasn’t happy about it; it had shown in his clenched jaw and furrowed brows. He wasn’t happy that Tim had made the decision on his own without telling Bruce. Bruce had frowned, that small disappointed one, before saying nothing more about the matter.

“What status are the Weasleys?” Tim blinks in surprise, looking up from fiddling with his watch and the knowing sense of fear clutching at his heart.

He had forgotten about telling Damian about things like this. But Damian was a kid, a kid who prided himself in knowledge. So, Tim had told him, about the adventures that took place in Hogwarts. About the pranks he had pulled with the twins, despite the bewildered looks from his family. He had told his little brother all about the history of magic and how some pure-blooded wizards and witches might treat him for being a muggleborn. Tim hadn’t seen Damian so interested in anything he had said before, hell, he hadn’t seen any off the others so interested in him before. It made his heart thump in longing, in bitterness that he tried to desperately shut down. No one had ever been interested about him and his magic before.

“Pure blooded.” Tim tells him, not missing Damian’s little frown. Damian was worried he wouldn’t match up with the other wizards, that he would be left behind. That other wizards, more ‘cultured’ wizards would look down at him. Tim hides a smile, because the Weasleys? They wound never do that.

“House?” Damian quizzes, fingers tangled in a sleeping kittens fur.

“Gryffindor.” Damian looks pleased at that, eyes flickering to meet Tim’s before lowering them again. Tim frowns, heart hurting in his chest. Damian wanted to be a Gryffindor, terrified that if he got in Slytherin that everyone else would believe that there was no hope for him, that he was undoubtedly evil. No matter how many rimes he tried to convince his little brother that that wasn’t it, he couldn’t get through these insecurities that Damian always seemed to hide behind.

“What is your house?” Damian quizzes, frown on his lips. He knew the red and golden colours were for the Gryffindors. He had studied and interrogated Tim all about it. Tim on the other hand blinks, hadn’t he told anyone?

“Slytherin.” Tim answers and he can see Damian’s quiet surprise. He can see Damian second guessing himself that maybe, just maybe Slytherin wasn’t so bad after all. Tim was an idiot, if he had said this beforehand maybe Damian wouldn’t need to worry anymore. But maybe if he had said that then the others would hate him just that bit more. Slowly Damian bobs his head, gazing at Alfred in his lap.

As he returns his full attention to Alfred, Tim tightens his fingers around his watch. When the letters had arrived all those days ago, he realised the watch was what, he affectionately called, the stalker watch at the Burrow. It was his birthday present and he’s sure the twins had caught on to how much Tim overthought things, how much he worried. Either way he appreciated the present beyond what the others would even know. He was terrified though, because not to ling ago the Weasley’s hands as well as Hermione and Harry’s had gone from travelling to moral peril. It had been in the newspaper what had happened but no one mentioned if anyone was safe. Tim knows they’re safe, logically at least. the hands had turned back to home but he needed to know for himself.

“Bye dears! Have a good time at Hogwarts and please, stay out of trouble!” The familiar scolding tone fills Tim’s chest with immense relief and his shoulders sag, a tired hope filled smile slithering at his lips as he huffs a laugh and watches as the Weasley’s scramble.

In the corner of his eyes Damian gazes at him, eyes flickering at the bustling family in confusion. Tim smiles, cocks his head at the window. “Those are the Weasley’s, most of them anyway.” He says and Damian watches the family, frown saying he’s unimpressed but Tim can see the interest in his eyes. Trying to pick them apart to see why they’re so important, why Tim cherishes them so much.

“Stay here, I’ll be just outside the compartment for a second.” Tim murmurs, rising to his feet. Damian’s sniffs at the command and Tim simply ignores it, sliding the door open and leaning against the shimmering golden wood with a soft sigh.

He couldn’t wait to see his friends again. No matter what Tim was feeling or how, as his best friends said, self-deprecating he was being they were always there. To cheer him up, trash talk the professors, pranks up their sleeves. They were like- no, they were Tim’s brothers. He loved them and most importantly, they accepted him. Accepted him for who he was. That feeling is something Tim would cherish and protect the day he dies.

Rushing shoes slap against the wooden floor as the train screeches, the doors opening slightly before sliding shut as the train thrums with life. A grin, one so ridiculously big and bright, splits his face in half as he gazes at the stumbling duo racing towards him. God, he missed these buffoons.

“Timmy!” Tim laughs at the synched call, chest thumping. It’s been six years and yet some things never seemed to change. Never afraid to make a scene both freckled boys sprint toward him before pouncing, limbs flying in the air. His back slams against the wall, spine aching and headache forming as long lanky libs pull him to the two warm figures. Tim chuckles, deep n his chest and hugs them back. He wasn’t usually the affectionate type, but with theses two? It was always forced out of him.

The door slides open and Damian peaks his head out, surprise lingering in his forest eyes at the scene before him. Quickly he scowls and his disapproving voice saves Tim from being squeezed to death as he grumbles at them. “You heathens, you scared Alfred the cat!” The frown that is nothing nut a pout is aimed at Tim then. “Control your friends, Timothy.” The little head slips back into the compartment quickly.

The red heads lean back, pouting, and Tim waits patiently for the twos’ reaction. They both blink at the door, at their so called dubbed compartment that was currently being posses by an ickle first year who knew Tim. By George’s and Fred’s standards, this was the upmost betrayal.

“I never thought-“

“That our favourite Slytherin-“

“The only decent Slytherin-“

“Would betray us like this!” The twins finish landing on their knees with puppy dog pouts. Tim simply shrugs, snickering slightly.

“Is it considered such a betrayal if I tell you that that’s my little brother?” Tim queries, eyeing the two moping on the floor. That grabs their attention and both redheads perk up, eyes wide and curious. In an instant their back to their feet, interrogating Tim. They ask his about Damian, about why they didn’t know he was a wizard, what his name was, if he was a first year or not.

Laughing softly he answers all the queries patiently before asking his own. “Is everyone alright?” Both boys are a little paler than usual but they glance at each other before nodding. “Good.” Tim breathes.

Gred and Forge grin wickedly and Tim groans, he shouldn’t have said anything.

“Aww did Timmy-“

“Worry about us?“

“So cute!” They squeal together.

Tim leans away with a bemused expression, before smirking wickedly; “I’d say you both would fit in with the Slytherins with the way you two like to taunt and teases people,” he sings. Eyelids peeled back, blue eyes wide with betrayal they, once again, sink to the ground, this time making puking sounds.

“You know sometimes I enjoy how sly you are.” Tim looks, smile twitching on his lips as the dark skinned male steps over the disgusted boys on the floor to greet him with a fist bump. Tim happily holds out his fist.

“Hey, Lee.” Tim smiles

“Hey bro.” Lee greets, before grinning and joining him to lean and the carved wood. He slings an arm over aching shoulder and Tim leans into the warm side, both of them smirking down at the twins who were making so much fuss you’d think they’d been struck down with the Cruciatus Curse.

“Ahem,” Tim blinks as he looks at the amused elderly, her palm shaking slightly as she pulls the trolley to a stop before she could run the two boys over. The twins jump up, bowing dramatically before rushing into the compartment, Lee following before the door slides shut with a thunk.

Tim gives her a small smile, bobbing his head before following his three best friends into the compartment. He remembers third year, his first real interaction with her. The trolley had come past and the lady had told the groups that she’s just going for a refill and would be back in a jiffy. Interested the four had set out to find the greedy kids and it come apparent who exactly bought all the goods. Tim had seen Ronnie again and had met his new friend, Harry. The scrawny boy reminded Tim of himself when he was younger and because of that he felt a little protective of him.

Tim waves as the lady as she passes the window and shakes his head at the offer of sweets. There was no need to get the twins any hyper than they already were and Tim had already learnt the hard way that having your stomach full of food before the sorting wasn’t the best idea ever. He chuckles, turning his attention back to the room and grinning. Fred and George seem to be having a staring contest with Damian, Damian glaring more than staring. Lee looks quite amused.

Snorting Tim snuggles into the lumpy cushion, making himself comfortable next to his little brother as the others took up the other chair. Alfred, not used to the lack of attention, stretches, fur puffing up briefly before clawing his way onto Tim’s laps and leaving fur on his light blue jeans. Tim runs his fingers through the black locks, untangling a few nots on the way. Having enough of the contest George turns to Tim with an amused glint in his eyes. Fred keeps staring, eyes shimmering with unshed tears but refusing to give in to the urge of blinking.

“Who’s the munchkin?” Tim meets George’s grin wickedly as the kid blanches.

“What did you call me?!” Fred high fives his twin as Damian glowers. In his rage the boy had blinked furiously, making Fred the winner of the sudden competition.

“A munchkin is a cat.” Tim easily supplies, a sly smirk pulling at his lips. Lee sniggers in amusement.

Damian whirls at him as the giddy twins watch excitedly. “I know what a munchkin is! Who are they!?”

“I told you before. They’re the Weasley’s. Well, those two are. Their names are Fred, George and Lee.” Tim watches in amusement as the twins jump to their feet in ‘outrage.’

“Excuse me mister-“ a poke to his chest.

“We aren’t Fred or George-!” Lee cackles.

“They sound like quite good looking blokes though-“ Tim snorts.

“We are-“ Damian stares expectantly.

“Forge!” Fred says with jazz hands.

“And Gred!” They both bow dramatically before collapsing, half flopping onto Lee, cackling.

“Munchkin meet Gred, Forge and the only normal one, Lee!”

Tim sits down on the Slytherin table and watches in amusement as everyone scoots away from him, he’s a mudblood after all. There were other muggleborns in the house, many more. The others either kept to themselves or lied about their heritage and Tim couldn’t fault them for that. The only good acquaintance he had was with Blaise Zabini and Malfoy, who respected him rather grudgingly.

Catching his three best friends’ gazes, along with Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Harry, Tim rolls his eyes dramatically. His three friends snicker and Ron snorts while Ginny sends him a small wave, rolling her eyes in amusement. Hermione sends him a small smile along with Harry. As the sorting begins Tim claps for each student, smiling reassuringly when any tiny first year meets his gaze, no matter their house. Not so patiently he waits for Wayne, Damian to be called. It takes a while but eventually Professor McGonagall calls his little brothers name, eyes briefly flickering to Tim before nodding at the boy with a ramrod back and shaking fingers.

“Wayne, Damian!” McGonagall calls out. There are only two other kids left and Tim perks up. He vaguely sees George and Fred leaning over each other, bumping into Lee only to get elbowed in the stomach to shove the two curious Gryffindor’s off.

It takes a while; the Great Hall being doused in silence with the occasional murmur for two minutes. Finally, the ripple in the rusty brown hat opens up and shouts out for all to hear.

“GRYFFINDOR!” Tim claps the loudest.

Tim stares down at his younger brother. Somehow, somehow, he’s gotten himself in detention. It’s barley been a week! He hasn’t gotten the full story but Damian’s little friend, Dennis Creevey had whispered what was said. The poor boy as hesitant to say the name but Tim had promised him that he wouldn’t let anything happen to him, that no one will know how Tim got the bastards’ name.

Damian’s cheek is grazed, turning an ugly purple and yellow under the cut. It would be healed soon, like it was never there before but the rage in Tim’s chest was furious and harsh despite that fact. It doesn’t matter if it would heal, someone still had the gull to hurt his little brother. He doesn’t ask, Dennis has already told him everything. Instead he simply places a hand on his baby brothers’ shoulder and walks out of Professor McGonagall’s office, promising revenge on a certain Marcus Flint.

No one calls his brother a terrorist or a mudblood.

Lee, George and Fred are happy to help. Almost a little too gleeful, almost. Tim’s doesn’t feel an ounce of pity for what’s about to happen. The four of them will most likely get attention and loose house points but what’s the fun if their isn’t a little ambition? Tim didn’t care and the other Slytherins might sneer at him more than usual but who cares? Not Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. A Slytherin that other Slytherin’s avoid. Not because he was a muggleborn but because Tim isn’t afraid t get justice, because Tim has one mean bat boogey hex.

The whole school is silent. For about a second before laughter comes and it comes hard and fast.

All the houses are in tears, clutching at their stomach because who on earth would miss a chance to laugh at Marcus Flint? Tim’s at the Gryffindor table next to a gaping Damian, a smug smirk crossing his lips. The twins and Lee are howling with tears in their eyes and Tim wraps an arm around Damian’s shoulder, leaning a comforting weight against the boy.

Flint is standing at the entrance of the Great Hall completely pink. Every part of him was stained a hot pink and lets just say the colour didn’t compliment the boy at all. Good, that was the idea after all. Tim’s pretty sure Flints red in the face, in anger or embarrassment is anyone’s guess as he quickly whirls around, attempting to run away from his humiliation. It doesn’t work. Instead of a successful escape attempt Flint trips. The boy stumbles up only to trip again as obnoxious begins to play and Peeves pops out of no were with water balloons and it’s simply so amusing.

As other things begin to happen Tim feels a satisfied smile cross his face. Suddenly Damian’s tugging at his robe and Tim turns his attention to him with a smile.

“Why?” The boy asks and Tim’s smile is more soft this time.

“Remember what I said in Diagon Alley?” The boy nods and he continues; “no matter the house it’s the person that defines them, not where they’re sorted. Marcus Flint is a stereotypical Slytherin but I’ve personally have friends in my house. Maybe not many but the ones that are, well they’re nothing like the strawberry. He’s a bully and self-obsessed idiot, he deserves what’s happening.”

He took of guard by the hug but he returns it just as fiercely. He’s not surprised in the slightest when George, Fred and Lee join and he’s even less surprised when Damian jumps up to chase them, pulling Dennis along. A flash lights up the room and Colin promises to give him a photograph. This year might’ve been a mess with the Triwizard Tournament but in the end, it wasn’t all that bad. Then again, the year wasn’t over yet.

#magical occurances #dc #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #Fred Weasley #George Weasley #lee jordan #Harry Potter #hp #errol #Ginny Weasley #Ron Weasley #hermione granger

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scripted-dalliances · 5 years

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Rest in Peace: Chapter Fourteen

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 14

Summary: A part of Faithless Fairy Tale, a more in depth look at how they brought Laura back to life. Appearance of old faces, creation of new ones and if you’re looking for canon, it left a long, long time ago. If you squint you might be able to see some pieces from the book.

“As the Bacchae knew, we always tear our Gods to bits, and eat the bits we like.” -Adam Gopnik

Laura would spit fire if she could.

“How,” It's not even a question, she's too mad for it to be anything but a wanton demand of a child. “Please tell me where the fuck are the directions on that, cause so far, no one seems to know and google isn't bringing anything up.”

For her credit, Isis doesn't look offended as she should at Laura's indignant rage. Instead she leans back and seemingly thinks long and hard about her next words as Laura moves to pace the room.

“You have already started the process.” Isis points out, “When I touched you, that was just a bit of light that was already in you. Not a lot, admittedly but it was there. Whatever you've been doing to foster that, I suggest keep doing it.”

Laura cuts a look at Sweeney. He looks ready to throw himself out the nearest window. She almost wants him to try so she could have a reason to throttle him.

“And If I said whatever that was...was dangerous?” Laura starts and Sweeney stills.

Isis raises a brow, “I would question if your life wasn't worth it.”

Fuck.

Laura sits down. This time, nearer to the leprechaun than the goddess. After a long, silent moment, she ends up elbowing Sweeney in the side. Forcing him to squawk and swear like a too tall chicken who just had their feathers pulled out.

“Fuck you, Dead Girl!”

“Tell her!”

“I repeat, Fuck you!”

Laura’s features twist in anger and so she twists his flesh between her fingers.

“FUCK!”

“Tell her or I will personally make you the first man in the world to be sent to the emergency room for a purple nurple!”

“Fine!” Mad Sweeney huffs, obviously knowing she wasn't kidding. He takes a deep breath, nervously pats his thighs and then sadly attempts to pretend this isn't a big deal. Fooling absolutely no one. “I...that is to say...We entered a sort of deal with the other, yea?”

“Well, that doesn't sound shady as fuck.” Laura whispers sarcastically mainly to herself, before addressing Isis. “I figured if I gave him a boost belief, it would in a round about way make the coin stronger. In turn making me last a little longer in the world until he could find someone to bring me back. Payment would be that I would be a full time lucky charms pusher. Spread the word, write a book or a blog. New faith without the new gods.”

“Except, the words you used were, If you believe in me, I'll believe in you.”

Isis makes a small noise of smothered laughter. “Oh.”

“Oh what?” Laura needles, but Isis isn't looking at her. She's looking over to Mad Sweeney who has all but curled up on himself. Crossing his arms across his chest and slouching so far down that his stupidly long legs hit the edge of the end table before them.

The longer Isis stares, the more fidgety Sweeney gets.

Laura begins to get nervous. “He said it connected us. Two sides of the same coin, believer and belief.”

“He isn't wrong, but that's when he assumed that coin was his magic and his magic alone. He wouldn't have any idea that it was any other way would he? That it was your power awakening, transferring and building on his luck. Only that it isn't just luck and…let me guess, that the bond is already proving to be stronger than anticipated?” Isis questions sweetly at the leprechaun and Mad Sweeney’s shoulders twitch and then like lightning the answer becomes clear to her and only her, “Ohhhh.”

“I wish you'd stop making that damned noise.” Sweeney bitches, shoulders practically past his ears.

Isis ignores him and gives Laura her attention, “It's a dangerous thing, bringing back the dead. Involves a lot of...work, not just faith.” She says the word with an implied tone of importance. “Power a part of it, will another. Just like a body is made up of a complicated set of inter-working organs, the spirit is much of the same. I am not as strong as I used to be, I can not fill and replace all the parts you have lost and need, Laura. Not by myself, the only person who can is you. Still,” Isis gives her a blinding smile.“ I can help, if you'd like. You just have to trust me a little.”

Laura does not trust that smile, but she finds herself nodding.

“It will cost you.” Isis says after Laura agrees to give whatever the Goddess has in mind a try. They are moving on from above the casino. Now on their way into the belly of the building, under the hard earth to places she never knew existed when she worked here. It's not a maze, but it's long winding tunnels of hallways do not make it easy to traverse unless you know where you are going. So Mad Sweeney and Laura stick close to the small woman.

“I'm willing to pay whatever you want.” Laura bluntly admits, and Sweeney glares down at her.

Those are pretty dumb words to promise around gods, after all.

“It is not me you'll be paying.” Isis points out, just a tad gleeful. “I think you still work under the impression that things happen without a reason.”

Laura crosses her arms, “Sometimes things do.”

“No, not every single thing comes about due to godly intervention. A lot of it is just the natural order and chaos of the world fighting for bites of the same bone but there is always a reason, be it kind or cruel. Bad or good, for life or death. There is, as your tall friend said, two sides of the coin when it comes to anything in this universe. And the universe needs a bit of order, just as much as it needs a bit of chaos to keep going after all, but if you are clever enough to know how both work, you can use it to give you what you want.”

“You have to play the game to get a chance to win.” Sweeney gruffly replies, as they turn a corner to another long stretch of hall way. No windows or doors, for what seems like miles. This far deep, it feels like they are taking a stroll right into hell. “My coin, is what has been helpin' her to win so far then?”

Isis nods, “Helping, but it isn't going to bring her back on it's own, there are limits. We need something bigger, and the universe will not give you life for nothing, it will want it's pound of flesh and if you aren't careful...it will take more than that.”

Laura frowns, feels like she is hearing the equivalent of fine print. “I don't mind paying, like I said. Whatever this stupid universe wants, that it hasn't already taken, it can have. Just as long as it isn't me on my hands and knees married to Jesus or something.”

Mad Sweeney snorts deliberately in Laura's direction, and she finds herself making a pinching motion towards him as a threat to keep him from speaking. Whatever stupid little comment he wants to make, he can keep buried.

“It's about balance.” Isis says in finality on the subject as their journey comes to an end, leading them into a large ballroom of white marble. It holds no decoration, no elaborate lighting but it's otherworldly in it's shadowed brightness. Isis allows them a moment to take it in, hands on hips as she looks up. There in the distance above them, is a glass ceiling, framing the moon. In the daylight, Laura imagines it is even more impressive.

Across the room, awaits a familiar face.

“Yo.” Laura greets the god of death. Anubis frowns at her lack of respect but gestures with his head a small nod of sorts.

“Laura Moon.”

“McCabe, actually. You and your brother's did top notch work but it still couldn't keep my marriage alive.”

For his credit, the god of death seems to acknowledge his misdoings. Managing to look both apologetic at her and then pointedly at Mad Sweeney, “Not every man can handle death easily.”

“Oi, don't be lookin' at me like that, death breath.” Sweeney snaps, irritated but it is mostly because of his new nervous state of being. This is dangerous game after all, with big bad gods of old, the kind even Odin was careful not to fuck with. “I ain't exactly been happy to deal with her, and her smell of rot up my nose.”

“Fuck you.” Laura squeezes in before Anubis also replies with a, “Yes, we will have to deal with that.” at the same time. Making Isis chuckle and sweep her way over to him. Slipping her hand in his, making Anubis tilts his attention back down to her.

Standing next to each other, they look nothing alike. Not like Horus did to her, but there is enough love in Anubis's gaze that it's not even a question that he does so like a son would a mother.

“We need to prepare her body, Nephthys is back and will assist you.” Isis says, and if he's offended by the demand, he doesn't show it. “Laura, if you would. Please follow Anubis. Mad Sweeney, come with me?” She gestures on wards to another seating area. This time far more lavish, in thick pillowed low couches and soft surfaces of every kind littered about. It looked like a set of a roman orgy, minus all the players.

For his worth, Mad Sweeney doesn't automatically sit down, first he glances at the dead girl and waits patiently. He hasn't forgotten her words from earlier, when he tried to obey Isis by leaving her. This time, Laura seems to have accepted their parted ways.

“Don't do anything to fuck this up for me, Ginger minge.”

“Make sure they remove all the maggots, Dead girl.”

Laura flips him the bird, and he watches her walk away.

#mad wife #Madwife #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x laura moon #laura moon #laura x sweeney #madwife fic

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evolutionsvoid · 5 years

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While the Cockatrice family has given up flight for a more terrestrial lifestyle, one species of this family has taken quite a different route. The Diving Cockatrice (or also known as Diver's Cockatrice) is an aquatic member of the family, spending most of its life swimming in the sea. It should be noted that Diving Cockatrices live only in saltwater, and if anyone is thinking about a freshwater dwelling variant, then they are most likely thinking of the Wading Cockatrice. These fellows are found in more colder climates, and they tend to nest on rocky shores. They are not found in tropical waters, so you won't be stumbling upon any when soaking up the sun at the beach. For other Cockatrices, they have developed adaptations to better suit a terrestrial lifestyle, like stronger hind limbs and thicker bones. For the Diving Cockatrice, their changes are a bit more extreme as regular birds are not exactly cut out for an aquatic life. Their forelimbs have turned into flipper-like appendages, while their hind limbs feature large webbed toes. Their bodies are much more streamlined, and their feathers have a waterproof coating to help protect them from the frigid waters. The fancy crests and wattles of their land brethren are now greatly reduced, as they would only slow them down. Even their crop is smaller than the other cockatrices, as a large, bulging one would only create drag. With all this combined, they are incredible swimmers and are much like birds in flight when they are in the water. Their speed is impressive, and their maneuverability is just as amazing, as they zip around to catch prey. Though they spend most of their life in the ocean, their dives down below often only last between five and ten minutes. They do not have crazy huge lungs to let them stay below for hours at a time, but with their speed and agility, they hardly need to. While they have the grace of dancers when they are in the water, this does not carry over too well on land. With their hind legs positioned on the side of their bodies rather than under, walking isn't exactly easy. It doesn't help that they have elongated webbed feet that point back for swimming. When they do come to land for nesting and resting, they can only crawl on their bellies. They use the claw on their flipper to help gain traction on slippery rocks, and they essentially push/pull themselves along. Due to this limited mobility on land, Diving Cockatrices rarely nest far from the shores, as any considerable distance would take them way too long to traverse. When it comes to hunting, Diving Cockatrices use their incredible swimming prowess to chase down their food. What they will do is swim along the surface and poke their head down to look for prey. When a suitable fish is spotted, they shall dive down and use their limbs to propel themselves at great speeds. Their long sharp beaks have tooth-like barbs on the inside, as well as on their tongue, which they use to hold onto slippery fish. As you could probably guess, Diving Cockatrices prey on fish, but they also eat a large amount of jellyfish. They will nab the occasional squid or floating crustacean, but fish and jellyfish are their favorites. What they truly want are species that are poisonous or possess venom of some kind, which they use to fuel their deadly spit. Just like any other cockatrice, they store these nasty ingredients in their crop to help create a toxic soup that they spew at attackers. Poison glands and jellyfish stingers make up a large portion of this soup, but there is an extra ingredient that their brethren do not possess. Since they spend so much time underwater, you can imagine spitting is not an effective weapon down there. To make up for this, their crop produces an oily, slimy substance that mixes in with the poison and toxin. This makes their barf thicker and stickier, allowing it to survive underwater. When they barf at attackers down below, this mixture will come out as a tangled, oily web, which will cling to a predator's face. There the nasty concoction will leech into their eyes, nose and mouth, causing all sorts of horrible infections. When spitting on land, their vomit comes out as a globby mass, sticking to attackers like the world's deadliest booger. Something to note about their spit weapon is that they use it as a last resort when they are in the water. When predators attack down below, they prefer to swim away as fast as possible. If land is close, they shall retreat there, but in some cases, they shall dive into swarms of jellyfish to escape predators. These little guys are immune to the stingers and venom of jellyfish, but many foes are not. It is only when they realize they can't outrun the attacker when they shall spin around and spew out their toxic cloud. On land, though, they are quick to barf at foes, as they are much more vulnerable in this state. If you wish to observe these nesting colonies, it is best that you do so from far away. Or at least get a really good mask and set of goggles.

For breeding, Diving Cockatrices use the land for this function. They shall build crude nests from rock and lay their eggs within. Mated pairs stick together until their chicks become full grown, as it takes two parents to help provide enough food and protection. Even at a young age, these chicks are capable of vomiting at foes, but this puke consists mainly of the oily goo. Though it lacks the poisons and toxins, it is still a sticky mess that you really don't want in your eyes. While many places have found other Cockatrice species to be good for hunting or farming, Diving Cockatrices are often left alone. Due to their smaller size, they do not give a good amount of meat, and their lifestyle makes them impossible to raise like livestock. Their feathery hides do make for good gloves and boots, but catching them intentionally can be difficult. In the sea, you will never snare them with net or pole, and on land they find safety in numbers. Your best chance of snaring one is when you cast your net to catch a school of fish, and you accidentally nab one of these birds on accident. Even in this case, you better watch yourself when you pull this haul back up, as the bird will be squawking, pecking and puking. While many coastal towns may admire their aquatic grace, a lot of fishermen will have a different mood when they are at sea. To these folk, Diving Cockatrices are pests that will nab fish from hooks and swipe goods from nets. Their zipping and zooming way of hunt also tends to make fish schools erratic and unpredictable. Many a fisherman has cursed these birds after they ready their nets for an approaching school to only have their haul change direction when these little guys come barreling in. I am sure a lot of them would love to twist their scrawny little necks, but that is a fantasy best left in dream. If you aren't sure why, look for the person at the tavern who looks like half their face is rotting off. They can tell you how not worth it was to commit such an act. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ------------------------------------------------------------------ And since we got a more coastal Slime, why not a more coastal Cockatrice?

#monster #creature #diving bird #bird #cockatrice #seabird #art #drawing #penguin

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wat-the-cur · 6 years

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(This is an old piece that I wrote after making this post: https://loathsome-aesthete.tumblr.com/post/171322899440/something-that-would-absolutely-happen-if-weyoun#notes ...I was not particularly happy with it at the time, I thought the whole thing felt a bit stiff and cold. I find that a lot with my writing, I do not always mind, but here I thought it was detrimental. Finding it and reading it again, though, I do not think it’s too bad. I thought you guys might like to read it, so I am posting it! I apologise in advance for the horrible grammar, it is a weak point of mine.)

-----

The box was just heavy enough that she had to tuck it beneath her arm, before pressing the doorchime.

"Who is it?" Ezri felt a flicker of satisfaction at the clarity of his answering call, no muted croaking that she would need to have repeated.

"It's Ezri!"

"Please come in, Miss Dax."

Ezri rearranged the box as she entered, only looking up when the doors sealed behind her. The sight of her host hit her like the first step into a cold stream. Six was cross legged on the end of his bed, hunched over a PADD which he held as gingerly as if it were shard of inscribed crystal. He was naked. His colourless skin seemed to glare in the brightness of his quarters and for a moment, Ezri felt that her eyes would be seared. She became vaguely conscious of him looking up to greet her, hitching his bulky glasses up his nose (Julian had made several, barely good natured pleas to treat Six's half blind eyes, to no avail. Six was adamant that the Founders' design not be altered, only assisted).

Ezri would not meet his gaze, as her eyes flitted with uneasy curiosity over his foreign form. His body was patched with openings, their shape not unlike that of the Terran almond. Each was puffed with twin rows of delicate gills, repetitions of those of his ears. Gaping widest was the gilled mouth of his belly, which she now saw was soft, creasing with the curling of his spine. She was dimly aware of the hair, like astrakhan that forked at the crest of his hidden groin and rose over his flanks, but her eyes where suddenly pulled to his knees. Her breath stuttered as she thought she saw pair of hands, second to those cradling the PADD, drumming their long, tender tipped fingers on Six's kneecaps. She then realised that these new hands lay at the ends of his folded legs.

"Oh-ha...I'm sorry." Six's now meek voice brought her exploration to a close. The realisation of her invasive stare burned and she guiltily dropped her gaze to the box she held.

"No, I'm so sorry, it was wrong of me to gawp. You're in your own quarters after all!" The apology rang offensively loud, in the presence of the mild Vorta. As she chanced a look at his face, she was distracted by the quivering of his ears. The gills inside them fluttered and ruffled, like the feathers of a bird, bathing in dust. Ezri's voice shrank, as she felt undeserving of the understanding in his tight smile.

"The Vorta have been educated as well as can be expected, on the comfort of other humanoids." He rose from the bed deliberately, letting her decide where to place her eyes. "We have no cause to feel uncomfortable at being seen this way, apart from of course, the lack of protection. Then again, I know that one, or two layers of cloth are useless against a blade, or a phaser fire." At the edge of her vision, the gills of his belly rippled. "I was inconsiderate, I should have remembered that I was in no state to be seen, before I invited you in." As he finished, He peeled a stiff, grey jumpsuit from the head of the bed and began to ease it over his bare legs. His feet, those elongated hands, popped out from beneath the flared hems.

"There." She lifted her head as Six closed the last snap at his shoulder. "Much better, I wouldn't feel embarrassed about your inquisitiveness, Miss Dax," His brows knitted at the lingering flush across her cheeks, "I must look quite different to a Trill. If I were in your position, I am sure I would have stared, too."

Ezri could tell that her cheeks had not cooled, but she tried to scupper the concern surfacing in his gaze with a lopsided smile. She glanced down at the box once more, before thrusting it towards him with both hands.

"From Garak." A soft and quizzical "oh?" escaped Six, as his own hands tentatively uncurled to receive the box. With a brief grin, Ezri added; "A delivery for Weyoun the Sixth, from a Mr Elim Garak!" She gave a mock salute.

Six did not quite smile, he was so intent on the box, but she was grateful not to have missed the twitch of amusement beneath his eyes. Had she a moment to dwell on it, she would think that many of the crew would likely appreciate the more subdued and genuine nature of Six's humour, compared to the practised laughter of his predecessor and contemporary. Six was studying the box in his hands, not unlike the way in which she had studied him earlier. He rocked it gently, weighing it, his eyes darting about the lid.

"You gonna open it? Oh I-would you prefer I left before you open it?" She had expected him to be jolted by her question, having forgotten she was there. Instead, a small, chipper smile graced him. He looked almost as if he had been waiting for her to speak, to confirm something for him.

"No, stay, let's both see what it is." He said, as he eased his fingers beneath the lid. In truth, Ezri had already guessed what might be inside and she wagered that he did, too, but she politely stepped forward to see the reveal. The lid fell aside, onto the bed and Six deftly parted the protective tissue. A long moment of silence passed, after the rustling had ceased, as Six gazed at the contents of the box.

"An outfit." Ezri confirmed, bouncing once on her toes. "I believe Garak's exact words were; "Miss Dax, thank goodness I've caught you! Here, make haste and bring this to Mr Weyoun. I must confess that each sighting of him in those shapeless dust cloths is moving me closer to my grave than any one of my enemies could ever dream!"" She told his this, because she felt that Weyoun would likely be above getting upset over a slight on his clothing. What is a slight on one's clothing, when one saw nothing beautiful in them to begin with? That did not stop her from worrying that her recounting the tailor's words had been a mistake as she glanced back at Six, anxiously gnawing at his lip. At last, he spoke.

"I wonder if I can pay for this...you know, I think I can." Six set the box down and made for the corner of his quarters that was ever expanding with the valueless brick a brack he liked to bring home. Not all of it was without value Ezri realised, as the Vorta squatted beside an assemble of gold-pressed latinum strips. The small slabs had been stacked into rugged, shimmering towers, as if a child had used them to build a little golden city.

"You shouldn't keep your latinum out in the open like that, someone could see it and try to break into your quarters later-hey, don't, you'll make it scab up, again." She knelt beside him and swatted the air in front of his mouth, trying to get him to release his lip. The flesh, now wet and purple, sprang from between his teeth as he began to speak again.

"There may be enough here for the cost of the outfit, wouldn't you say? If only I had know that Mr Garak was making it, I would have played longer."

"Played longer?"

"Yes, I won it." His voice was growing quieter, but his eyes widened slightly with a child-like pride, as he looked from the latinum to the Trill. "There are a lot of entertaining games to play at Quark's. I believe I was able to pick up the rules of Tongo rather quickly for a new comer." He began to lick his lip rather than chew it, as he looked back at the latinum. He was trying to sooth it.

"You know, I think that if you didn't know that Garak was making the outfit for you, then he won't expect any payment, except perhaps profuse thanks. It's a gift, Six." She hoped her smile was reassuring. She smile wider as Six tried to return it with a raw mouth.

"A very generous gift." He whispered.

"I think it may actually be more of a generous gift to himself, than to you. You heard what he said." That wrung a chuckle out of both of them, brief, but sincere, cosy.

"You should try it on," Ezri said as they stood up, "see if it would have been worth giving Garak all your hard won latinum for."

With a high hum of agreement, Six drifted over to the bed, unsnapping the shoulder of his jumpsuit. Just before Ezri turned away from him, she glimpsed his exposed back and found that, though the nape of his neck was smooth as vellum, that dark and crinkled hair sprouted thickly along the path of his spine. The amount of hair on him surprised her and the thought of one day ruffling him between his shoulder blades flashed across her mind. She readily shook the image away, settling her focus upon Six's collection, which faced her. She peered beyond the bright little latinum city, over the colourful fleet of bottles, holding shards of their fallen brethren and into the country of cheap treasures. She had to choke back a laugh, as she spied among the clutter, a green and scarlet hookah, cracked and opaque with age, crowned by a bundle of naked jumja sticks. An obscene picture.

"I'm decent." Six called her to judge his newest possession.

At her second first sight of him that day, her breath caught again. Ezri had heard that the best tailor is a skilled illusionist. He could shave thirty pounds off a client with just the right cut, or grow them up several inches with the correct marriage of colour and pattern. Looking at Six, clad in Garak's newest creation, she dearly hoped that in was not her imagination that this tailor appeared not to have set out to deceive those who gazed on the Vorta, but showcase him to them.

The set was as minimal as any uniform, a tunic, trousers and boots. Ezri was surprised that Garak had retained the dull colours that he was so used to seeing and despising on this unwitting client. The tunic was of some sort of lush velvet, black, but for a central, herring bone column, which was a dove grey. It dipped just beneath Six's collar and drew to a point at the hem, between his thighs. The higher panels had space in between them, narrowing as they stretched down his breastbone, a screen of dark mesh behind them hinting at the flesh beneath. The trousers, also black, wrinkled almost charmingly at the mouths of the knee high boots, the feet of which seemed to be shaped to accommodate him. (Ezri considered that Garak must have commissioned them from elsewhere). He had even been given new glasses, lighter, rectangular lenses, framed in silver . The clothes that Six had been replicating for himself had been only for the purpose of coverage, impersonal and detached. They had hidden him with their practical shapelessness. This new assemble was wholly a gift for him. The garments hugged Six without squeezing him, the seams sharp, though not distractingly angular, yielding with his form and celebrating the slightness and softness of it. Close, but not boastful, it illuminated him. "This is he!" was what it said. Oh, Garak, you absolute master.

"Fantastic." The Trill's beam shone on the Vorta's modesty. "You look just fantastic."

Six's eyes slowly warmed with pride, happy and careless lines splitting across his face. He rocked slightly on his heels and she felt tempted to mimic him.

"I shall take your word as truth, Ezri Dax." He proclaimed at last, with a chuckle. Ezri was about to jokingly try and convince him that everyone one on Deep Space Nine would call that a mistake, but she withheld from marring the sincerity of the moment.

"I'm off duty, you know." She said. "You could wear it out to a lunch with me?"

"Why not? Here's to hoping I don't spill anything." Six reverently smoothed the front of the tunic, careful not to pull at the mesh.

#deep space nine #ds9 #trill #vorta #ezri dax #ezri tigan #weyoun #weyoun 6 #weyezri #writing #loathsome-aesthete

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bizonul · 7 years

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A day of hunting

The pictures belong to KAMW

... The blue light and the cold of the morning made me wake up, I slowly opened an eye and looked at the entrance. Fog waves penetrate unbridled into the whirlwind mingling with the smoke of fire that turns off.

I get up in the cold of the cave and look for something to eat ... Nothing!

Then I went out of the cave and headed for the river, I had something to see there, and I had a food hide.

Arriving to the river, stepping slowly and carefully, I dropped the foliage aside, just to see. It's there, making the morning bath with the dew from the leaves and flowers.

She probably felt my gaze and began to smile and became more beautiful. Then he looked directly at me .

I left them every morning an egg on a large leaf and continued to look fascinated as she climbs on a stone platform and spreads her wings to dry in the morning sun rays .

I've been seeing all the traps we used the day before. But he had not gotten anything !

The whole day I climbed and searched through the bush. Only twice did I have the chance to shoot with the bow. I hit the animals but they did not die. I'll find them hidden tomorrow through the slopes of the forest.

I headed to the grotto with what I found, and passed by the river where I left three eggs for that fantastic being, and I kept only a bird for me.

Going to the threshold of the grotto and watching in its darkness I was filled with bitterness that everything was the same as this morning, no one was waiting for me inside.

I search in the hearth and find under the ash a grain of fire over which I throw a piece of dry moss and some wood and I start to clean the bird. While I cut it into pieces, my friend in the neighboring grotto comes and invites me to dinner.

I put the pieces of bird in a stick as a gift and left together.

The neighboring cave did not differ from mine, except that the fire was burning here and smelled of food. I gave the meat to his wife and I sat down on the stone floor next to the fireplace and we started to drink and talk.

- Sharpen your arrows and spear! Tomorrow we go to Long Tooth! - They're ready! I answered .

I drank and I ate in silence, there was nothing to say.

Finally, with my belly full, I returned to my grotto. I sat down beside the fire and began to think by rewinding the tip of the arrows . I was looking at the big and hard spear from time to time and in my mind a hunting plan began to be born. After a while I put the arrows off and pulled the spear closer to me and wrapped myself in the coat that served my cover, I said to myself

- Let see you tomorrow in the morning Long Tooth ! I'm sending you to Gods!

I said a prayer to be successful in hunting and I fell asleep with the image of that fantastic being in my mind ......

......... My dream was short and full of dreams, more reminders than dreams. I was a little still, listening to the clues in the grotto, only the bite of the bats waited.

I stood up, and taking the spear with the top of the stone I went to hunting, no one in the tribe was awake, not even the man who had to guard us.

. First I made it to the river. I walked in cascade and rubbed grass and leaves to remove my smell and the smoke then scorching the water I climbed on the stone wall in its diagonal, to a small stone platform that went out just above the place where the Long Tooth was to drink.

I only had the place to stand, standing still, with my back stuck to rock.

I watched the Moon still light at night and imagined what my life would be like, maybe I would have that fantastic creature beside me if I could break down the giant animal

Lost in dreams and having her image in my mind

I did not feel the passage of time, and when the Moon almost disappeared into the hills and the sky lit up a bit, I heard the shrubs of the bushes at the passing of Long Tooth .

I saw only a dark shape came under me and when I jumped high holding spear. I landed right on the bones of the back of the animal, and I lowered my spear with all my strength and helped me with my weight . The stone peak hit the back of the spine and then slipped through the ribs into the deep of the animal, ending the lung and stopping in the middle of the heart.

I felt the Long Tooth surprise, start to tremble and then let the air out loud and leave aside. I rolled up with him and rising up I ran into the woods, to the shelter of the trees . Behind me, the other animals started shaking angrily with the smell of blood, but they did not have the courage to enter the forest where they had no visibility.

In my run through the woods I saw a rabbit caught in my trap. I took it and continued to run . I just stopped in front of the cave where my friend lived and I took a deep breath a few times to calm myself.

The village was still sleeping, undisturbed, only I had broken the foggy mugs they stood among the rocks. I slipped into the cave like a shadow and grabbed his shoulder making a sign to follow me out .

- I knocked down the Long Tooth at the place where he was drinking water! Can you divide it for me and bring it to me? I have something important to do! - Be quiet! I'll do everything right!

I did not wait to continue the answer, I knew it would put aside the meat and fat for wedding before dividing the whole tribe. I headed back to the forest as quickly as if I had been chased by animals because I wanted to offer the Gods' offer for thanksgiving for the success of the hunt.

The Guardian of the Gods stood squatting beside the fire, his head gone as though he had prayed, but I knew he was asleep. I passed by him and put the animal on the altar, breaking a few bones with bundles of feathers. The guard jumped to his feet and came to the altar, but when he saw what it was, he scratched his nose. Before I said something, I spoke:

- I brought a gift for Gods! I was lucky and I knocked a Long Tooth! I'll bring some flesh and maybe ... ... I have a wedding!

Hearing this, the Guardian's face lit up and put his hand on the obsidian knife, and with a quick blow split the animal's chest, then quickly put his hand and pulled his heart to the feet of the statue.

It was so lightning that the heart was still beating, sprinkling with blood the statue representing the Goddess of All Beings.

I went out without a word and returned to my grotto. Under ashes I found some fire and I put all the wood together to make the fire hot and give a lot of light.

I needed light to make it clean and started throwing everything out, but all the covers, the shells where we keep the water, the food, the fat ......

Curious, those in the tribe drove their heads to see what they were doing, but exactly then I was starting to throw away from things gathered over time.

When the grotto was empty, I broke branches with leaves and swept the floor of the dirty sand until I roamed, and then I poured plenty of water and washed the walls and floor. At the end I turned the big fire again to dry and I started to bring clean sand off the water's edge .

When I returned for the fourth time with the clean sand, the grotto was warm and smelly of blossoming plants. By the fire stood the wonderful and fantastic creature . He spread out his wings to catch the heat of fire. I put a large leaf beside her, some of the fruit I had gathered when I came back. He did not say anything, just raised his eyes, looked at me a little and smiled. I did not say anything, and I stuck to Long Tooth’s skin to cover the entrance ...

by Tonko Alexander

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josephstoontown · 8 years

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Eat at Joe’s, Chapter I

Chapter I of Eat at Joe's, a Joseph's ToonTown story.

Originally a roleplaying session that lasted 20 days, you can now experience Joseph's first encounter with 'toons as a three-chapter story! How fun! (You can still read the entire RP in its original form here, by the way!)

Co-written with: @shinkothetoongirl Word count: 5,377 – Character count: 30,851 Originally written: April 5th - April 25th, 2016 Converted/revised: January 10th - January 12th, 2017 Re-split and revised again: August 11th, 2017

After a long drive, Joseph arrives in a very strange place with even stranger people… and winds up bumping into someone very familiar to him.

Shinko the Toon Girl and related characters and properties created by and © her creator Woody Woodpecker, Wally Walrus, the Woody Woodpecker Show, and related characters and properties created by and © Walter Lantz Productions Mona Lisa, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and related characters and properties created by and © Mirage Studios

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“Hey, wake up!”

The golden-furred fox-man sitting in the passenger’s seat of the big rig truck gave a snort as he was shaken awake by its human driver. “What– what? I’m awake?” he said in confusion. “Sure ya are, buddy.” The man gave a chortle and grinned. “Anyway, end-of-the-line! We’re here… in Cali-for-ni-ay!” Joseph sat up with a stretch and a yawn before looking out the windshield. To his surprise, things appeared much more… colorful… than he’d have imagined.

The sun was brightly shining and… smiling down at them? The clouds in the sky also seemed to be smiling, though in more of a general direction than the sun. A cursory glance around revealed similarly unsettling trends… Some of the nearby buildings seemed to have faces on them – eyes in the top floor windows and the ground floor doors acting as their mouths. There were also a lot of vehicles zipping by at speeds so fast, they blurred. That didn’t seem to stop all the creatures from crossing the street at the crosswalks, though the on-duty traffic officers – two bear-men, one tall and dopey, one shorter and angrier – were having a hard time keeping up with everything that was going on. And, on top of everything else… something was singing. A lot of somethings were singing, in fact. Singing songs about smiling… It was like being inside a living cartoon!

The fox suddenly shouted, “What the f–”, his last word being completely hidden by an extremely loud truck passing by. A moment later… everything came to a standstill around them! He looked around, noticing that literally everything that could… was staring at him, mouths agape – some covering them with their hands – and eyes wide-open. “W… w-what?” Joseph looked around again, ears folding back. “What’d I–” He was interrupted by a knock on his truck’s passenger door. Furrowing his brow, the fox opened it… and revealed a short-looking bird-man standing there. He had a sharp-looking beak on his bright red head and a bunch of feathers were sticking up in a cone-like quiff of a hairdo. He also had a white chest and belly with a collar of white feathers, a blue body with two large, blue feathers sticking out from behind, yellow bird feet with two toes, and wore white gloves.

Perplexed, Joseph began to ask… “Uh… Can I–” Only for the bird to interrupt him again by shoving a large, yellow bar into his mouth. The fox gave a yelp as the bird pinned him down in the truck seat and started rubbing the bar around, causing him to cough, gag, and choke from the taste of… soap? It was soap! The bird creature was washing his mouth out with soap!! Joseph gave a gurgling growl as soap bubbles started coming out of his nose, the bird-man thoroughly trying to wash his mouth out with the cartoony bar of soap. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the bird to finish and he hopped back to the street, pocketing the cleanser.

“There now!” he said in a squeaky, high-pitched voice. “Maybe next time you’ll think before ya say stuff like that in public!” The fox sat up, spitting suds and rubbing his mouth as the bird gave an annoying, repetitive laugh which lifted him off the ground. “What the f–” As Joseph began to speak, the bird landed again and flashed a wicked grin his way, whipping the soap back out and waving his finger. The look in his green eyes was almost like a challenge to the fox… but, it was one that he wasn’t about to take, again.

“What is your problem, anyway, dude?!” the fox shouted, ignoring the goings-on of the area as they started back up. “The name’s not ‘Dude,’ pal! It’s Woody! Woody Woodpecker!” The woodpecker held a hand out. “Shake!” “No!” Joseph hopped out of the truck with another growl. “Why did you wash my mouth out with soap…?” “Because, it was filthy!” Woody put his hand behind his back. “But, now, it’s squeaky-clean and lemony-fresh!” As he started to laugh again, Joseph clenched his fists and growled. “Stop that!” “Aww, don’t be so hot-headed!” the bird smartly retorted. “Cool off, instead!” Before Joseph could even react, the bird pulled a pitcher of what was apparently ice-water from behind his back and leaped up, pouring its contents over his head. “Ah–! Ah…!” The fox gasped from the shock of the cold water and huffed through his teeth. He was growing increasingly annoyed with this wise-guy bird…

“I’m guessing you’re not from ‘round here, huh, pal?” “My name…” the fox said with a sigh, “is ‘Joseph.’ And, no, I’m not. Nor would I ever want to be.” “Aww, don’t be such a wet blanket!” Woody exclaimed. “Here, dry off!” “No, don’t–!!” Too late. The woodpecker withdrew a large desk fan from out of nowhere and trained it on Joseph, turning it on and blowing his fur and clothes back with the torrent of wind it generated. To add insult to insult, once the fan was disabled, Joseph’s fur expand and fluff-out comically, making him look less like a fox and more like a…

“Poodle!” Woody exclaimed, snapping his fingers despite his gloves. “You’re a poodle, aren’cha?” Joseph trembled in anger, eyes and fists both clenched. “I’m a fox, you… you…!!” “Woodpecker?” “You woodpecker!!” he spat. A moment later, he gave a blink. “Wait…” The woodpecker laughed all over again. However, halfway through his laugh, he gave a startled gulp, finding himself grabbed and lifted by the shoulders. “What is your problem, bird?!” “This is ToonTown, kiddo. And, he’s a ‘toon.”

The fox turned around at the sound of a familiar voice. Standing at the back of the truck was the driver from before. He seemed to be waiting on a cartoon chicken wearing a chef’s hat to sign something on a clipboard. “We’re what?” the fox asked in disbelief. “And, he’s a what?” “Not a ‘what,’ pal!” the woodpecker corrected. “A ‘toon!’” “Who asked you?!” Joseph shouted as he looked back to his hands. However, Woody was already gone. The fox did notice something else, though… There was a slight weight sitting atop his head and two vibrant, blue feathers hanging in front of his eyes. “You’re… sitting on my head, aren’t you?” “I can see down the road to Joe’s Diner!” the bird casually replied. Joseph gave a grunt, grabbing the bird and setting him down. “You could do that from ground level…” “The view was much better from up there!” Woody laughed. The fox gave a grunt. “You’re annoying.” “And, you’re… adorable!”

Joseph blinked again. Before he knew what was happening, the woodpecker had somehow managed to press his beak against his lips in a comical smooch! His ears perked as he heard a noise like a plunger when Woody withdrew, followed by his now-all-too-familiar laugh. He was a bit speechless, by that point. He’d experienced many things in his life… but, never the feeling of a solid-yet-pliable beak on his lips… or, the faint taste of paint that followed. Surprisingly – mostly to himself – he wasn’t really that upset by it. He just kind of rubbed his muzzle and blinked, letting his ears relax while the woodpecker laughed his head off.

“S… so anyway…” he said, rubbing his arm and looking toward the truck driver. “Hey, uh, you? I never did catch your name.” “It’s ‘Sal,’” the round human replied with a grin. “And yours is ‘Joe?’” “‘Joseph,’” he corrected, “But, you can call me ‘Joe,’ if you want. Anyway, Sal. Why… uh… why are we here?” “Isn’t it obvious?” Sal asked as he retrieved the signed clipboard from the chicken. “This is where my shipment went!” “But, I thought you said we were in California, wherever that is?” “You are in California, pal!” the woodpecker interjected. “ToonTown, California!” “O-okay…” Joseph rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d like to get out of ToonTown, Sal. Is there any chance I could hitch a ride back with you?” “‘fraid not, bud!” Sal shook his head. “If I head to the check-in station in L.A. and they see I’ve got a stowaway, I could get into some real hot water! I shouldn’t’ve even let ya tag along, to begin with… but, ya looked so desperate and the money was good, so…” “Wait, what?” The fox blinked. “You’re stranding me in ToonTown?!” “Hey, for what it’s worth?” The shorter human walked over to Joseph, reaching into his pocket. “Ya can have this back if ya want.” As Joseph looked, he noticed that Sal had offered him the 100-whatever paper note he’d been paid by the fox. He hesitated for a moment before answering.

“You keep it…” he sighed. “Not sure if it’s enough to cover your expenses, but…” “Oh yeah! This’ll buy me a lotta fuel, Joe! I really appreciate it!” Joseph blinked at Sal’s enthusiasm. “Are you… Wait, really?” “O’ course!” Sal replied. “A hundy’ll get me to where I need to go and further! I really appreciate it! Thanks a lot!” The fox couldn’t help but feel like he’d missed something… but, ultimately, he just shrugged it off and proceeded to gather his backpack and equipment from Sal’s truck. He gave the man a wave and watched him depart a moment later, leaving him in the middle of what he figured was downtown ToonTown.

“So!” Joseph looked down at a sudden, intruding voice. Woody was still standing there, hands behind his back and rocking on his feet, staring up with a smile. “Where we off to, pal?” The fox opened his mouth to reply, his thoughts focused on wanting to get rid of the annoying, red-headed bird. However, he stopped himself before he could even get a word out and took a moment to consider the situation… He was in a strange, completely unfamiliar location… which was within a larger unfamiliar location – if what Sal had said was true… He didn’t have any food or drink on him and wasn’t even sure if he had money… He had no direction, no idea where to go, and no idea how to get back to where he’d come from – not that he really wanted to, anyway. To put it bluntly, he was lost and alone… and, that’s not a good place for anyone to be.

“You said there’s a diner down the road?” Joseph asked a moment later. “Why don’t you lead the way?” The woodpecker’s face lit up at the idea and he quickly jumped onto the taller figure again, sitting on his shoulders. When he forcibly turned the fox’s head in a direction, he could see the woodpecker’s white glove pointing forward in what seemed like an arbitrary direction to him. “Straight that way, pal! Best burgers in all of ToonTown!” Joseph winced as Woody started laughing again but he again shrugged and just walked in the direction Woody had pointed. All things considered… a burger sounded pretty good to him…

Before long, the two arrived in front of a small building at what appeared to be the main crossroads of downtown ToonTown, judging by the traffic. It was kind of odd, seeing such a small, almost normal-looking place amidst the the bouncy, vibrant, and – no pun intended – animated surroundings… but, the little building looked almost mundane, aside from the massive, neon sign above it which read “Joe’s Diner” and suggested that one should “Eat at Joe’s™.” However, the normal look of the place just made it all the more inviting to Joseph… “After you, pal!” The fox looked at his woodpecker companion as the latter hopped off the former’s shoulders, gesturing for him to go inside. Joseph gave a shrug and pushed the swinging door, stepping in… Sploosh! And, found himself greeted by a pale of water falling on his head.

Joseph’s ears fell as he heard the rhythmic laughter of Woody among the laughter of many unfamiliar voices. He was not amused by the prank… but, as he removed the unintentional bucket helmet, he began to look around.

Joe’s Diner was a lot like the roadside diners back home… It had a counter and some stools in one-half of the area while a few tables and seats decorated the other half. Beyond the counter was presumably a kitchen, judging by the smell of fried food. Another look revealed to the fox that there weren’t as many people dining in as he’d assumed there might be. There was a random octopus-man sitting in a booth in the corner, stuffing his face from several plates at-once with his long arms while, in a booth closer to the door, there sat what appeared to be a pair of male and female superheroes, judging by their flashy, red costumes. They were happily sharing a blooming onion together, oblivious to the rest of the diner.

At the counter sat a few different patrons, though it was hard to see who… or what… they were from behind. Working the counter, however… “Oh, Woo-dee. Fan-cy see-ing yoou heere.” Woody immediately looked up, brightly smiling. “Wally ol’ pal!” He leaped over to the counter, taking a seat on a stool near the figure that had spoken. Meanwhile, Joseph just blinked, staring at the pear-shaped man with… walrus-like features? “I didn’t know you were working here, Wally!” Woody exclaimed. Wally gave a nod. “The car-toon biz-ness,” the chef started in a slow, droning accent, “haas been kind of slooow since the car-toons went to t’ree-dee, like thoose soo-per he-roes over theere. Luh-ca-lee, Mi-ster Joe was a-ble to give me this job, yaaa. I yam the mor-ning chef now.” “Just like in that one cartoon of ours!” added the Woodpecker. “Ya.” The walrus smiled. “So, whoo is yoour soggy, t’ree-dee friend?” “Wally, ol’ pal, I want you to meet Joseph!” Joseph blinked as Woody hopped up, ran over and grabbed him by the arm, then dragged him to the counter.

“Joseph? Wally!” he said as he forced the two to shake hands. “U-uh… nice to meet–” “Wally? Joseph!” he then said, interrupting Joseph and putting his other hand in Wally’s free hand. “Ya, he-llo. It is good to–” The woodpecker interrupted again, things quickly escalating from there as he exchanged hands between the two, himself, and back again while introducing everyone to everyone else. “Joseph? Woody! Woody? Wally! Wally? Woody! Joseph? Joseph! Woody? Wally! Wally? Joseph! Woody? Wally!” “Stop!!”

Woody gave a blink, leaning back in confusion. Joseph growled as he found himself tied in the rubbery knot that was Wally’s arms. Wally didn’t seem too thrilled, himself, shooting a dirty look at the pushy bird. “Look, you lunatic bird,” the fox said as he tried to free himself from Wally’s tangled arms, “we’ve been introduced, already! Okay?” “Oh! You two know each other?” Woody asked with a smile. “My mistake!” Joseph gave a sigh as he managed to free himself, then helped Wally sort his own arms. “You alright, Wally?” “Ya, it hap-pens,” Wally said, giving the fox a tired look and a nod. “Eh-spe-ci-al-ly a-round that wood-pecker!” Woody emitted his trademark laugh, causing both to shoot him a look. The fox then gave another sigh before rubbing his face…

“Listen, Wally… Can I use your bathroom?” he asked. “Maybe dry off a little?” “Yaaa, suuure, you bet’cha.” The walrus gestured to his left. “It is o-ver to the riight.” “Thanks. And, Woody?” The bird perked and smiled, attentive to Joseph as he spoke. “Don’t follow me in there, alright?” “Oh, don’t worry, I’m no creep, pal! You take all the time you want! Meanwhile… Wally and I can play catch-up!” Wally quickly grabbed Woody’s hand as he reached for a nearby bottle of ketchup. “Doon’t you doo it, Woo-dee.” “Aww, you’re no fun!”

As Joseph left to the bathroom, he heard the laughter of the woodpecker ringing in his ears, causing him to shake his head again.

That crazy bird… he thought to himself as he found some paper towels to dry off with, and this crazy place… Geez, why did I let that truck driver drop me off here… in ToonTown, of all places? And, is this all there is to California? Just… chaos…? Joseph removed his shirts, giving it a wring on the bathroom sink as he continued his thoughts… As a matter of fact, why did I even want to come to California? The name sounded familiar but it’s not like I have a reason to be here… Right? –––––

Just outside the diner, a uniquely-drawn ‘toon, moving in little more than key-frames, had made their way from the northern Disney District, having just finished their morning-to-noon shift at work. As they looked around with bright, curious, blue eyes, a rumble came to their tummy, reminding them of why they were there, in the Universal District, in the first place. I’ve really been meaning to head this way, they thought with a smile as they continued walking. It’s not real often I leave the Disney District… but, it’s good to wander out once-in-a-while. I’ve heard good things about this place… plus, how can you go wrong with a place that lets you ‘Eat at Joe’s,’ like in the old cartoons? Their smile brightened. This is going to be fun!

“Welcome to Joe’s Diner!” a brown-haired lizard lady roughly the ‘toon’s height greeted as they walked inside. “Would you like to be seated or prefer to find pick your own spot?” The ‘toon brightly smiled to the waitress before saying, “I don’t mind being seated!” “Alright!” The lizard smiled in return. “Let’s see what’s available, right now…” As the visiting toon waited, they took the time to put their long, orange hair into a short ponytail. It wasn’t the most fashionable thing to do… not that they kept up with fashion trends, but it was certainly comfortable and kept their hair from getting all over the place!

“Found a seat for you, miss!” the waitress said as she returned. “Right this way!” The orange-haired ‘toon girl happily followed along behind the waitress as she was lead to a small table by a window. Once seated, the lizard lady handed her a menu which she began to look over. I’m glad ‘toons don’t have the same sort of digestive system humans do, she thought with a grin, casually looking over the dessert menu. I’d probably be pretty overweight from all the yummy junk food I eat if that were the case! A moment later, she returned to the main sections of the menu, trying to narrow down her choice for lunch that day.

The menu at Joe’s Diner had a lot of the food typical to fast-and-simple-style eateries on it; all kinds of different sandwiches with a variety of ingredients, hot dogs, hamburgers, salads, fried food like potatoes, onion rings, chicken tenders, and a plethora of sides-dishes and appetizers… not to mention the desserts from before! There was also a notice on the corner of the menu mentioning “special orders” and showing a few pictures of some food that was rather unorthodox for some ‘toons palates… such as what appeared to be a lovingly prepared plate of hay and dandelions or ice cream sprinkled with bugs. With that in mind, however… it really seemed like the place catered to just about any kind of ‘toon who might walk in!

“So…” A high-pitched voice called from the other side of the booth where the ‘toon girl sat. As she looked up, she noticed that a short, blue woodpecker with tall, red hair had joined her. He had his arms crossed and was leaning on the table, a playful grin on his yellow beak. He waited until she’d looked up before asking, “See anything ya like, blue-eyes?” The other ‘toon blinked, gently setting her menu down as her full attention turned to the newcomer. When she saw who it was, though… she couldn’t help but giggle a bit. “Hello, there. You look familiar…” she said with a cheerful smile. “I think my, er…” She suddenly paused, thinking about what term to use.

The person she was thinking of was kind of special… The one who had educated her about other ‘toons like Woody was her creator… but, not just in any one regard. Rather, that person had drawn, voiced, and written her… as well as raised her from drawing day to the day when she grew up and left for ToonTown on her own. She was kind of like the girl’s mother, in a sense… but, the ‘toon girl wasn’t sure if that term was really the most appropriate to use, given that she wasn’t a human girl.

“My… animator!” is what she settled on before continuing. “Yes, my animator has mentioned you before, I think. You’re Woody Woodpecker, right?” “Got it in one!” the woodpecker happily chimed. “But, I don’t think I know your name!” “It’s ‘Shinko,’” she happily responded before tilting her head. Woody had stood in his seat and was framing the ‘toon girl’s face in a square with his hands and intensely examining her. “I think I’ve seen you ‘round…” He hummed, moving his hands back-and-forth and staring with one eye. “Are you one’a Mr. Ward’s girls? Ya kinda move like one… but…” “Woo-dee.” A voice came from the duo’s side. The pear-shaped walrus standing behind the main counter was cleaning a glass and giving the woodpecker an impatient look.

“Don’t bo-ther the cus-to-mers,” he said in his somewhat exaggerated accent. “Aww, I’m not botherin’ anyone, Wally!” the woodpecker grinned, waving a dismissing hand toward the walrus. He then turned back to the other ‘toon. “Am I, Red?” Shinko couldn’t help but giggle, her mitten-like hand covering her mouth a bit. “‘Red,’ huh? I don’t think I’ve been called that before…” She then glanced up at the somewhat intimidating boss figure. The woman wasn’t sure if Woody worked there or not but, hopefully, the ‘toon bird wouldn’t get into too much trouble if she said she wasn’t bothered by his presence. Honestly, even though she hadn’t really seen his cartoons, she was starting to like Woody! “But, no,” she said, her raised hand resting in her lap in a one-frame movement as she continued to smile. “You’re not bothering me. It’s really nice to meet you, Mr. Woodpecker!” Woody grinned to the walrus and he slowly shook his head before waddling into a room behind the counter, seemingly placated by that response.

“‘Shinko,’ ya say?” the bird asked as he sat back, placing his own hands on the table and paying attention to her as he continued. “A nice name for a nice girl! I’d introduce myself but that’d be redundant, wouldn’t it?” Woody gave a brief laugh with a steady, monotone rhythm like a jackhammer… or maybe more like a woodpecker pecking wood? “But, that ol’ stick-in-the-mud walrus in the kitchen is my good pal, Wally Walrus! Just found out he works here today when I came in with my brand new pal! Uh… say!” The woodpecker hopped up again, turning around and looking toward the rear of the diner. “Where is that foul-mouthed fox, anyway? Couldn’t take that long to dry off!” “I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” she giggled at his question. Woody turned back around at Shinko’s comment and gave a shrug. “Ah, well. He’s gotta come out some time!” It was difficult for Shinko to do anything else but smile by that point. She really was finding that Woody to be a very funny ‘toon… and, someone she could look up to. And, that… got her thinking.

She started to think about her own upbringing, that being a mix of genres and styles… Even though she’d been around a while, she hadn’t really ever found out what “type” of ‘toon she was. Even joined by a funny ‘toon like Woody, she wasn’t sure if that was her “type…” but, it did use to be her childhood dream to be as funny as some of the great ‘toon stars she knew – Woody, included.

A slight growl from her middle reminded her that she still hadn’t really ordered anything to eat yet… After giving another giggle, her eyes turned back toward the menu. “Hmm… Say, if you don’t me asking, Mr. Woodpecker…” A moment later, she looked back toward her companion. “What do you like to get here at Joe’s?” The woodpecker then tilted his head at her question. “Well, I’m no paid spokes-bird,” he said with a grin, “but, when I come into Joe’s Diner…”

He suddenly disappeared under the table, causing Shinko to tilt her head. A moment later, her face showed a look of mild surprise! Woody had zipped up on her side of the booth! She then smiled, admiring his ability to squash and stretch as he slipped from one side of the table to another. Even though that was usually something ‘toons like him were able to do naturally, she still thought it was pretty neat! Sadly, it also served to remind her that, being made up of key animations, her “squash and stretch” abilities weren’t nearly as impressive, as it would only show if it was a “key-frame…”

“It’s always for one’a those big, juicy, burgers!” Woody happily explained as he pointed to a menu item. “You could squish a Volkswagen with one’a those things!” He took a moment to look Shinko over, again. “Buuut, they do come in smaller sizes if you’re not quite that hungry! Oh! And, it comes with a choice of sides and a drink, if you want ‘em! Pretty good deal for five bucks!” Once again, the woodpecker paused. “I think they also take other kinds of money, too, if you’re from outta town…? “Anyway,” he said as he slid under the table and back to his side of the booth, “ya can’t go wrong with much on that menu! Better pick quick, though, ‘cause here comes the waitress!”

With another small giggle, she managed to nod her thanks to the woodpecker before turning to the waitress. “I think that’s what I’ll get: a burger, salad, and a soda pop.” Said waitress smiled with a laugh. “But I didn’t even get a chance to ask yet!” The redhead brought her hand behind her head, bashfully grinning… “Oops?” The waitress didn’t seem to mind, though. If anything, she was just amused by the girl’s enthusiasm!

As Shinko had probably noticed earlier, the waitress was around her height and wore simple, pink dress with thin straps over the shoulders and a matching scarf around her neck. A pink headband separated her crown of brown, shoulder-length hair and, aside from her waitress accessories of a small hat and an apron… there wasn’t much else to her outfit. She was also… green. Green and reptilian, if her webbed hands, two-toed feet, and long, tail was any indication.

“My name’s ‘Mona,’ by the way!” she said with a cheerful smile. “Just like it says on her name tag!” Woody interjected. “I see you’ve met Woody.” The girl rolled her eyes. That got the woodpecker to beam at her… though, she just smirked in return.

“Anyway,” she said as she pulled a note pad and pencil from her apron, beginning to write the order, “that’s your order done! Woody, are you gonna order anything or just loiter all day?” “Well, if you’re offering,” he said with a grin, “then I’ll loiter!” The woodpecker started to laugh only to be interrupted by an alarming, ravenous sound coming from under the table. He stood up and looked down, watching his stomach visibly wobble and vibrate while sounding like a savanna predator. That caused Shinko to jump a little, her eyes watching the table shake from the woodpecker’s stomach grumbling.

“Whoa! Down, Simba!” he laughed, patting his white-colored stomach. “How about we get the same thing Red’s getting?” With a lighter growl, the woodpecker’s stomach settled and calmed. He then turned to Mona with a nod. “Double that order, Mona! But, swap the greens for some golden-brown fries and add some extra pickles on the side for me, please!” “You got it, Woody,” Mona said as she added an addendum to her pad. “It should be ready in a little while!” “Thank you!” Shinko said to the lizard. She gave a nod before excusing herself, leaving the two to each other’s company once more.

After Mona had left, there was an odd silence between the two as Shinko looked around the restaurant. A moment later, her eyes settled back on Woody, a sheepish smile showing itself. “Are you sure it’s alright that you’re sitting here?” she asked. “I mean, you’re waiting for a friend, right? What if they come looking for you?” As much as she was enjoying the woodpecker’s company, she didn’t want to inadvertently cause any trouble just because the woodpecker felt like socializing… “If your animator told you anything about me,” he began to reply, “they should’a told’ja that I get bored easy!” Woody then looked over his shoulder toward the bathroom with a hum. “But, since ya bring it up… he has been in there a while. Maybe I should see if he’s alright!”

Just as the woodpecker began to move off the booth’s seat, the door to the rear of the diner opened. A person was walking toward them, then. “Wup. Speak of the devil!” That caught Shinko’s attention. As Woody stared, she turned to look… and found herself caught by surprise!

The figure that had walked out was of average height and weight and wore blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and a backpack. They had a pair of glasses in one hand as they walked while the other hand rubbed their face with a paper towel, partly obscuring them from sight. However, anyone looking could still see a set of chocolate-brown ears perked upright, a pair amber-hued arms and brown forearms, chocolate-colored paws coming out from the pant legs, and of course, the fluffy, white-tipped tail hanging just above the floor behind them.

While Shinko wasn’t normally one to stare – since it was both rude and generally caused questions – she couldn’t help but do that exact thing… It wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen a million different ‘toons even before moving to ToonTown… but, something about the one that was walking out of the bathroom seemed… personally familiar, to her.

“Hey, Joe!” Woody said as he hopped up and ran over to the figure. “Whaddaya know!” “Jooe is heere?” called a startled voice from the kitchen. “No, Wally, not that Joe!” Woody called back. “My pal, Joe! You know! The fox-guy who fell for the ol’ ‘after you’ bucket routine!” “‘Pal’ is… not the first word I’d use,” the animal-person said in a soft, masculine voice, “but, whatever floats your boat, Woody.”

As the fox and the bird conversed, the redheaded ‘toon girl continued to awkwardly stare, her mouth hanging slightly open and eyes completely focused on the fox. He and Woody seemed to be talking about what the latter had ordered… but, she wasn’t focusing on the words… so much as the voice. I don’t think I’d ever forget that voice… she thought. He looks so familiar, too… But… it couldn’t be him… He vanished without a trace so long ago! Why would he come back now?

After a few more moments of taking in the features she could see of the figure… her eyes went wide! It was a sudden total recall as she almost-too-abruptly shot up from her seat, causing the silverware to rattle in their napkins as she banged the table with her knees. Slowly… she leaned forward, trying to get a better look at him… It’s him… it’s him! It has to be him! Who else could it be…? He throat felt dry and her breathing came in short pants… It was like something out of a dream, seeing him standing there, arguing with the mocking woodpecker… She almost didn’t want to believe that he’d come back… but, the more she heard him speak… the more she looked him over… she more likely it seemed.

It was her friend. The one that disappeared from her life one day in the past. It was…

“J… Joseph?”

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