i was the accountant

NaNoWriMo ‘17 Day 18 - New Parents

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Day 09   Day 10   Day 11   Day 12   Day 13
  Day 14   Day 15   Day 16
Day 17   
Day 18

Summary: Stan and Angie welcome their first child, or rather, chick. [Phoenix Enchantment AU]
Word count: 2074


               Stan tucked an extra stick in the nest.  

               Gotta make sure this thing’s stable and warm and shit like that.  He glanced at Angie, who was brooding the egg, half-asleep.  Gotta make sure the two of ‘em are comfortable.  Angie’s tawny gold eyes opened at the sound of voices coming from the stairs.

               “It’s been a couple weeks, do you think Pele’s forgiven me yet?” Ford asked.

               “I don’t know if she’ll ever completely forgive ya,” Fiddleford replied. “But she might be a bit more willin’ to let ya take her vitals.”

               “Perhaps I can check her cloaca.”

               “No,” Fiddleford said firmly.  The two men arrived at the attic landing.  “It’s a miracle she didn’t do the same thing to the vet she did to you. Don’t know why she held back.” Fiddleford smiled warmly at Stan and Angie.  “Howdy, Mr. and Mrs. Phoenix.”

               “Mr. and Dr.,” Angie crowed.  She adjusted herself slightly.  Fiddleford frowned.  

               “Hmm.”

               “What?” Ford asked.  

               “I thought I saw somethin’ when Pele moved.  Somethin’ under her.”

               “Something under her?  Like an egg?” Ford asked eagerly.  Fiddleford shrugged.

               “Might be.”

               “I’ll look into it.”  Ford made a beeline for the nest.  He reached out to pick Angie up.  She hissed at him.  “Maybe you should grab her.  She likes you more.”

               “Sure.”  Fiddleford walked over and reached forward.  Angie eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t make any threatening noises. “It’s okay, honey.”  He picked her up.  His eyes went wide.  “Goodness, would ya look at that.”

               “I’ve never seen an egg like this,” Ford remarked.  “And now we have an explanation for her odd behavior.” Ford reached for the egg.  Angie let out a screech.

               “Ford, don’t,” Fiddleford said.  

               “I need to-”

               “Ya still haven’t recovered from Pele bitin’ ya.  Do ya want to reopen yer stitches?” Fiddleford asked.  Stan snapped at Ford’s hand.  Ford removed his hand from the nest.  Growing increasingly agitated, Angie nipped at Fiddleford’s fingers. “Oh, okay, sweetie, down ya go.” He carefully set her in the nest again. “Sorry ‘bout that, hon,” Fiddleford said, stroking her.  Angie burbled apologetically.

               “Sorry, Fidds, I don’t know what came over me.”

               “Why did you put her down?  I wanted to examine the egg,” Ford protested.  Stan hissed, his feathered crest rising.  

               “Stanford, Pele just laid it.  Both of ‘em are goin’ to be on edge fer a while.  It’s a miracle Pele didn’t draw any blood tellin’ me off.  She held back, and so did Prometheus.  Next time, it won’t be a mere warnin’.”  Ford sighed.

               “Very well.  Perhaps in a few days, they’ll have calmed down enough to let me examine their progeny.” Stan let out another sinister hiss.

               “Don’t count on it, Sixer.”

—– 

               “Hmm?”  Angie was woken by movement under her.  She blinked blearily, decided to dismiss it, and closed her eyes again.  The sensation of something rocking grew stronger.

               What is that?  I’m not sittin’ on anythi- the egg!  Angie abruptly stepped to the side, accidentally elbowing Stan close to the nest’s edge.

               “Angie, it won’t be sunrise for like, three hours, what’s the deal?” Stan croaked, waking up.  

               “The egg,” Angie chirped.  “It’s- it’s-”  Stan looked over.  His mouth dropped open.

               “Holy Moses, is it hatching?”

               “Looks like,” Angie whispered.  She and Stan watched with bated breath as the egg rocked back and forth viciously.  As suddenly as the movement had started, it stopped, and a small crack appeared in the shell.  “Oh Lord, oh Lord,” Angie whimpered.  The crack grew wider.  A small, fuzzy head poked its way out of the egg.  “Goodness.”

               “We’re- we’re-” Stan stammered as the chick struggled free from its egg.  “We’re parents.”  The chick turned in a small circle before catching sight of its parents, huddled together in shock.  Stan and Angie stared silently at their child, unsure of what to do.  The chick let out a soft chirp.

               “Oh my Lord, she’s beautiful!” Angie screeched.  She walked over to the chick and nuzzled its head.  “Stanley, look at her!”

               “I’m lookin’,” Stan said.  He joined Angie.  “You’re right.  She’s the most gorgeous kid in the world.”

               “Clearly,” Angie crooned.  

               “Wait, how do we know it’s a she?” Stan asked, cocking his head.  Angie blinked.

               “I’m not sure.  I just know.”

               “Same here.”  Stan stared at his daughter.  “We decided on Molly for a girl, right?”

               “Yeah.”

               “All right, kid, here’s the deal,” Stan cawed.  The chick looked up at him with big, tawny gold eyes.  “Your Uncle Ford is gonna call you Pinatubo.  That’s not your name.  Your name is Molly.”  Molly blinked slowly.  “Oh yeah, and Fiddleford and Stanford are your uncles.  They’re humans, but you aren’t.  It’s weird.”  Molly let out tiny chirp.  “Good.  Glad you’re on board.”

               “Her feathers,” Angie whispered. “She clearly gets her pretty plumage from you, Stan.”

               “She’s got your eyes,” Stan replied.  Molly opened her mouth.  “What’s she doin’?”

               “I’m not- oh.  She must be hungry,” Angie said.  She looked over at the food stand. “Shoot, we’re all out!  Fidds refills the dishes in the mornin’!”

               “Think you can wait until then?” Stan asked Molly. She closed her mouth, looking disappointed.  “Yeah, it sucks, but we’ll get you some-” Molly abruptly opened her mouth again and began to emit a loud screech.  “Ah, fuck!” Stan yelped.  He stumbled back in shock and careened over the edge of the nest.  

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♡21/10/17♡ - 🐚 saturday 🐚

finally! the end of my almost-three-weeks long hiatus (ive been living in queue for so long) even though i already have a good two spreads completed (´~`ヾ) just been way too lazy to take good photos because i have to wake up at exactly nine in the morning to do so~

anyway, this is my exam schedule and spread! didn’t have time to complete a full one during the exam week, but i think i did decently on time for once. ♡ remember to check out @doctorsafraid and her stickers on etsy @mochiandmoon - quote ATTICSTUDIES for a discount! ꈍ .̮ ꈍ

colour scheme: 🐚💫🐚💫

Listening to Jazz/cafe music

i flinch at any sudden sound. sometimes even end up fully crouched, panting. 

“The Real World,” she reminds me, words in tiny tin swords through my eyelids, “Is Not Full Of Trigger Warnings.”

i eat my fist trying to avoid crying in class. bite down so hard on my knuckles i’m bruised for a week. have a panic attack on the subway and discover i’ve lost the ability to speak. throw up because i heard a car backfiring. carry on with my day accordingly.

“The Real World,” she says, “Is Cruel To People Like You. You Can’t Ever Be Weak.”

when my friend is crying i somehow shove aside anxiety and help her. i am calm in every true emergency i’ve ever been a part of. i show people the soft of my underbelly and they slowly show me theirs, just as scarred, just as untrusting. together we lock hands when we need to stay glued on a planet spinning fast enough to throw us off. 

“The Real World,” she adds, “Is Not Rainbows And Kitties.”

if it was, maybe i wouldn’t be like this. if it was, i wouldn’t have trauma in the first place. if it was, maybe i wouldn’t need trigger warnings.