#a majority of my birds are rescues
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My cockatiel Bandit is molting right now and he looks so nasty 😂
If I didn't know what was happening, I'd be panicking thinking he's sick. Shoot, even though I KNOW what's happening I still am worried about him. 😂
On the plus side, I managed to get some of his shed feathers before he destroyed them so now I have a few intact wing and tail feathers from him for my collection. 👀
I always say the reason I have birds is so I can collect their feathers. It's a joke, of course. Mostly.
#as a kid i was obsessed with collecting feathers#come to learn collecting wild bird feathers is actually illegal lol#so i had to get my own birds 😂#just a PSA: I don't endorse keeping parrots as pets#they don't make good pets for most people#they aren't domesticated and really aren't well suited for captivity#a majority of my birds are rescues#that were already in the pet trade#i don't support breeding parrots as pets#if you want a bird as a pet look into domesticated species like pigeons and chickens and i think some finches#or look into rescuing parrots in need of homes#they live so long that they often are traded around a lot#okay i'll get off my soapbox now
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Opinions on owning pet parrots? I'm doing a degree in animal welfare and have pretty much come to the conclusion that the smaller species are fine if you can provide what they need but the larger birds like the greys, outside of being rescues, shouldn't be pets at all.
Okaaaaaaaay so time to make everyone mad at me again I guess
parrots have been human companion animals for longer than Judaism has been around, so, I don't think we can just say "it's wrong" and force everyone to stop doing a thing that's been done for that long. Like, this isn't a human randomly taking home a tiger, this is a long going process with many species of parrots now being near-domesticated in the strictest sense of the term
Parrot ownership is in fact ancient in many "tropical" areas and the idea that it's a new thing is... white supremacy! what a shock!
in the United States (I am not talking about other countries, just my own), literally no companion parrots are wild caught anymore. They're bred. Bred as companions. If we were to outlaw larger parrot ownership, many birds would be without a home, and that's morally reprehensible
in fact, the kind of backlash against parrot ownership that's risen up in the past decade has directly led to a shelter crisis. most shelters are overfilled and overstressed, which is a *lot* worse for the birds in many cases than home ownership
parrots are pets that have extraordinarily high care needs. They are not good pets for everyone. but no pet is! Every single companion animal has its pluses and downsides, and many of them have many more downsides than pluses. Doesn't mean they shouldn't have a home.
There are some people who are actually able to take care of companion parrots, adequately, in their homes. First of all, we've learned a lot in the past few decades. Second of all, there are lifestyles that work well with even larger parrots and their needs.
So, while the number of human beings on this planet who can adequately take care of large parrots is extremely small, it is not zero. Which means if someone thinks they can take care of a bird well, and has the space and resources and time, then they should be allowed to, if that's what they wish
Because birds in the USA are bred as companions, the vast majority of said parrots would be unhappy in any situation that doesn't involve close contact with humans. Admittedly, all my parrots are "small" (whatever that means), but I know for a fact that if you took them away from our home they would be significantly worse off, because they're bonded to us. That's how this whole flocking thing works
Also, our most recent rescues, who had been stuck in a shelter for 15 years, are definitely happier now getting more individual attention and space. Shelters are supposed to be temporary places for most birds, not permanent homes, because they can't get the adequate level of care and attention that they need.
also, I'll point out that being pets has allowed many parrot species to have thriving populations that are not threatened by climate change, which is something to their benefit. given. you know. climate change. not that pet ownership is conservation, but, it's not that far removed from it - the axolotl population owes a lot to both pet ownership and zoo captivity, for example.
like, it's a spectrum, right? And it doesn't really go along with size, at the end of the day. There are tons of extremely neurotic and high needs small parrots, and many larger ones that are exceptionally chill. So while the vast majority of humans on this planet should not have a parrot, that's not all of them; and while the number that can handle higher maintenance ones is even smaller, its not zero. And I think, given the fact that we have all of these captive bred birds in the states at least, it's not a good idea to tell people that there is no way to ethically practice husbandry with them.
and I'm not the kind of person who assumes I know everything about someone's life in order to tell them "no you shouldn't bring home that cockatoo", so I'm not going to. In fact, I give everyone on the internet the benefit of the doubt if they have a parrot unless a) that parrot shows signs of distress (like plucking) or b) there is clearly something wrong going on (like someone's smoking weed around their bird)
so, no, there's no commonly kept (and thus domestically captive bred) bird I think is a bad pet for every single human on the planet. And it's not my business whether a particular individual should or should not have a particular bird.
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Guile & Guilt (Ch. 06)
Johnny texts you while he's deployed, but when he calls you one night, you are forced to face your consequences.
MDNI/18+
Link to AO3
OCTOBER, MONDAY MORNING, TWO WEEKS LATER
Your apartment was bathed in the cold gray light of a foggy morning, and you curled your duvet closer around you trying to stave off the dawn’s chill. You’d been awake for a while, which was very uncharacteristic of you. Usually more of a late riser, the only reason for your early bird behavior was Johnny MacTavish.
He was three hours ahead of you, and every morning, when the sun came up in the Urzikstani hillside, you were sent an image of Johnny’s hand, clutching whatever his breakfast was that day. Sometimes it was a tin cup of black coffee, other times you’d get a banana or a protein bar. But, it was always his giant hand and a sherbet orange sky. This morning, it was cloudy and dark, and his breakfast of choice was a slab of toast, smeared with butter and jam.
MoChroi: sunrise_sand.jpg
You: wow. quite the delicacy today. cant believe you found actual jam out there
Mo Chroi: bit suspicious. when the food gets better the missions get worse
You: uh oh
Mo Chroi: dinnae fash thief xx
Mo Chroi: writing today?
You: yep. and meeting with my prof
Mo Chroi: what ya got on then
Mo Chroi: give us a show bonnie
Mo Chroi: is it naughty?? lol
You: nope
You: rangers_tee.jpg
You sent a photo of your torso, cutting out your head, wearing his own tee shirt. His typing bubbles percolated along the bottom of the screen immediately. Then, an indignant response:
Mo Chroi: thief!! xx
You: youre the one who stole my hair tie
Mo Chroi: hairtie.jpg
Mo Chroi: needed a hostage
Mo Chroi: your bad habits are rubbin off. stole cap’s clothes out of the shower this morning
Mo Chroi: price_hat.jpg
You: you learn quick mo chroi
His typing bubbles appeared, and then they disappeared. You watched them pop up in the chat and then vanish three more times until finally all you got was silence. This was a common occurrence, so you tried not to overthink it. Over the past two weeks of texting with him, you knew he disappeared sometimes. He’d get a call to go into the field, or there would be some crisis. You wondered if his captain had discovered his prank.
The room was still cold, and you were reluctant to leave your cocoon of warmth, but you needed to write. You had promised yourself that you’d go into the office early today before your meeting with your major professor. After a deep sigh and some very challenging mental gymnastics, you stuck a leg out and onto the frigid concrete floor.
Your apartment was very modern. So modern, in fact, that it had been a challenge to make it feel homey. There was very little room inside for anything more than a queen bed, a short futon, and your desk. Your bathroom was sleek and full of brutalist, functional, concrete stylings, but the kitchen was barely big enough for a sink and a toaster oven. You had kept the futon for guests, not that you had many (any) visitors, but aside from the stacks of books in the corners of each room, your entire studio was practical to a fault.
But, it was enough for you and your rescue cat, Marlowe, so you didn’t complain.
On the wall opposite the front door, a huge plexiglass window overlooked the River Kelvin, conveniently situated right across from some student housing so you could access the bus. Not having a car went against your Floridian roots, but you’d fallen in love with the ease of public transportation.
After throwing on an oversized sweater and a pair of fleece-lined leggings, you slipped on your wellies and headed to the bus stop. You’d brought a big thermos of coffee, ready to face the day.
Your phone buzzed again.
Pidge: I’m so excited to see you this weekend!! :D
You: me too! is hammie picking me up after all or no
Pidge: Yes, I told him to be at the platform at 4.
You: cool
Pidge: Have you spoken with my brother?
You paused for a moment, riding the elevator and staring at your phone. You didn’t want to lie to her, but you probably shouldn’t tell her the truth. The truth was that you’d been texting her brother every day since he left for leave. You went with a half-truth instead:
You: yeah a few times why
She did not respond. You waited for the other shoe to drop like a blindfolded prisoner waits for their firing squad. The bus came to your stop, and you climbed on, sitting on the carpeted seat closest to the door, knowing your stop was only three away.
When you got to your office, your phone buzzed again. You set your bag and your coffee down before you even looked at it, avoiding touching your cell as if it had thorns.
You flipped over the screen.
Mo Chroi: make it to the office?
You: office.jpg
Mo Chroi: have a good day today thief
Mo Chroi: helicopter1.jpg
Mo Chroi: going on a wee trip. afk xx
You: promise xx
Mo Chroi: promise xx
Promise. Promise. It was you and Johnny’s little code. You hadn’t liked hearing about his “little trips” in the beginning, especially after he had shown you a photo of his truck, riddled with bullet holes. You used to say “good luck”, but you didn’t like that sound of that. You hoped luck had nothing to do with it. So, you just asked him to promise to text you back or to promise to be safe. And he always replied that he promised he would. Now, it had shortened to your one-word ritual. You always said it and he always said it back.
Another buzz:
Pidge: No reason. He has my phone charge the little nugget.
You: omg lol
You were not laughing out loud. If anything, you were sighing in relief.
It took most of the morning, but you fell into a routine. You had your meeting, came back, and wrote some more. Lunch was a pre-packaged lunch box from the student center and a refill on your coffee. You missed dinner. The sun set on you as you finished a critical section of your thesis, looking it over for flow and mistakes.
Worn out, and finally feeling hungry again, you checked your phone on your way back to the bus stop. No new messages. You waited for the bus, flipping through his photos again as if you would have forgotten them from when you looked at them from last night. Or the night before last.
You stopped looking at them, challenging yourself to have a non-Johnny thought in your head for once.
Maybe you would make a ramen with eggs in it tonight.
Maybe he’ll text you back.
You could watch another episode of that K-drama you liked.
Maybe he’ll send you a picture of him shirtless.
You could go for a run.
Maybe he will run his tongue back over your —
The bus came. You blocked out your thoughts from your mind, desperate to regain some semblance of control.
THURSDAY NIGHT
It had been three days, and you still hadn’t heard from him. You tried not to think about all of the terrible reasons why that might be the case. But, you did. You thought about them all the time. Every time you checked your phone or read an email or scrolled through your feeds; it was the only thing you thought about.
You had his shirt on again, eating leftover Chinese on your futon. You were thinking about all of the things you needed to take care of before tomorrow. It was Pidge’s bridal shower weekend and you were trying to wrangle all the final touches together. You’d rented out Ettrick’s, at Pidge’s request, and you had sent the invites two weeks ago. Almost everyone had RSVP’d yes, so you were looking at nearly 45 people to host. The custom bridal cookies were set for pick up when Hamish took you into town tomorrow afternoon, and the champagne was paid for. And you were dreading it.
You were excited to be there for Brigette. She had always been there for you. When you first moved to Scotland, you were well and truly alone. But, she met you for lunch almost every day after class, claiming to need her caffeine fix. But, as time went on, you realized she wanted to be friends. Having no one and being in a new country was so tough, but she had made it feel so easy. So, even though you hated the prim and proper social situation of a shower, you resolved to tough it out.
You put the half-eaten Chinese back in the fridge and climbed into bed. Your phone buzzed as you went to put it on the charger.
Mo Chroi: you up?
Your heart stopped for a moment, making your breath hitch in your chest. You fumbled with your phone, rushing to open his message.
Mo Chroi: camels.jpg
You: omg! are those REAL
You: shes not a camel but ill trade you one critter pic for a Marlowe pic
You: marlowethecat.jpg
Mo Chroi: her cheeks are brilliant lol so big
You: so your mission went okay?
Mo Chroi: lol yeah. and we got the guy who owned the camels to take a cool pic of us. can you tell which one’s me?
Mo Chroi: group_pic.jpg
You: gotta be number 3
Mo Chroi: how’d you know
You: your wide shoulders. and you always stand like that
Mo Chroi: like my shoulders do you
You: yep
You: you should send me a selfie
There was a long pause. You were a little afraid that you’d overstepped a boundary. Sure, his long, hungry tongue had been buried between your legs three weeks ago, eating you like he was starving, but people were cagey about their online privacy. You backtracked:
You: if you want to. nbd if not
Mo Chroi: selfie.jpg
You checked the image, and your heart sank like a stone. Johnny wore a green and yellow bruise over his eye, and his head had been shaved.
You: you okay? bruise looks nasty
Mo Chroi: you should see the other lad
You: and they shaved you?
Mo Chroi: got a nasty wee cut on the back of my head and doc sheared me like a damn sheep
He sent you a series of frowny faces and sheep emojis, and you felt a wave of calm settle in your chest. The latent fear was still there, and would be until you saw him again, but it was good to know he was alright.
FRIDAY MORNING
You were back on the bus, toting around your overnight bag, planning on heading to the train straight after your colloquium lecture this afternoon. Your phone had been beeping at you all morning. Johnny was begging for you to record your talk, asking you to let him sit in on your “class”.
You: johnny its not a class! its just a lecture. we have to give them every now and then to show what we’ve been doing with our research. its not fun. you’d be bored.
Mo Chroi: meirleach! i dinnae care how fun it is. let me see!!
You: campus.jpg
You: look. its all stuffy and campusy. you wouldnt like it
Mo Chroi: youre breaking my heart lass xx
You smiled. He was so bright, and he made you feel like you were so very special. It was no wonder he was such a danger to single women everywhere. Your confidence was soaring.
When you made it to your office, you sent him another picture of your current work. You were writing a short paper on German poems, not really related to your thesis, for a conference coming up in the spring.
You: look. you dont even speak german! it would be like torture
You: german_poem.jpg
Mo Chroi: so cool. im beggin you. let me watch you. i won’t say a word.
You: maybe if you come back a little early from leave next time, you can sneak into one
Mo Chroi: if i survive this training, i will.
Mo Chroi: thinking about seeing you up there teaching. got me all turned on
You sent him an emoji with a shocked look on its face, feigning coy shyness. He was relentless.
Mo Chroi: think youd let me be teachers pet?
You: more like class clown
Mo Chroi: you did seem fond of all of my tricks. wanna see what else i can do?
You: lecture_hall.jpg
You: i have to prep for this talk. keep your naughty thoughts to yourself soldier
Mo Chroi: yes maam
Mo Chroi: wait!
You: what
Mo Chroi: before you go. what color knickers are you in
Mo Chroi: just trying to imagine your lecture
Mo Chroi: with accuracy
Mo Chroi: cmon lass. for extra credit
You smiled down at your phone again, knowing your answer was going to win this little back and forth game he was playing.
You: im not wearing any this morning. gonna do my washing at your place.
Mo Chroi: jesus mary and joseph
You: and all the saints?
Mo Chroi: every one of them xx
Your lecture went off without a hitch. You earned yourself a few crowd questions and a round of polite applause. Stopping back by your office on the way out, you grabbed your laptop and headed for the bus stop. You’d forgotten your phone was on silent, and it wasn’t until you made it to the train station that you realized it. Two missed calls from Pidge and three texts from her brother.
You checked the texts as you returned her call, unable to hold yourself back from seeing what he wrote to you.
She answered quickly,
“Hey! Are you on your way?”
“Yep,” you replied, “I’ll be there around three forty-five, I think.”
“Okay, perfect. I just wanted to tell you that we’re adding two more to the list. Anjali invited Steph and Tiff. Is that alright, babes?”
You tried not to groan directly into the mouthpiece,
“Yes! The more the merrier.”
What were you going to do about the seating chart? You’d figure it out later.
“Fantastic! You’re amazing, hen. You know that?”
“Anything for you, bestie.”
She kissed you over the phone and hung up. You let out that sigh you’d been holding. As much as you loved her, you were ready for your friend’s wedding to be over with..
You checked the messages from Johnny, looking to escape from your thoughts again. He was the perfect distraction.
Mo Chroi: oh fuck no
Mo Chroi: its dog day for training
Mo Chroi: army_dog.jpg
You: you dont like dogs?
Mo Chroi: not these
Mo Chroi: had a bad time with attack dogs in russia a few tours back
The train arrived and you got settled. You weren’t sure how to respond. It was back again, that funny feeling in your chest about him being in constant danger. You didn’t know how to handle it. It wasn’t like you could ask him to stop. That was his job, and he was one of the best. He’d been enlisted on this elite task force, and even though you barely understood what that meant, you knew it was special. What right did you have to stand in the way of his greatness? The world needed Sergeant Johnny MacTavish, and you were just a distraction.
You waited for him to text again, a distraction for you and you for him. A two-way street. That’s all it was, right? How could it be anything more?
You thought about his sister. She’d been so painfully clear about her boundaries. You imagined telling her you liked him, telling her you wanted to date him. She’d explode. There’d be Scottish yelling, and Scottish fighting, and Scottish siblings rowing at each other all over the house. You couldn’t do that to her, especially not now. So, you just went back to distracting him.
You: did you get bitten?
Mo Chroi: yeah, right on the belly. those bastards. can you see it
Mo Chroi: shirtless.jpg
You gasped audibly, hoping no one had heard you on the train. You’d already seen him naked, but having a picture of his bare, muscled torso on your phone was another thing entirely. You glanced around, checking behind you and clutching your screen to your chest, holding it to you shamefully, praying no one saw it.
You typed a message, then deleted it. You tried again, and then deleted it. You knew he could see your text bubbles popping up, and it embarrassed you to no end. Eventually, you decided to just be honest.
You: youre so damn hot
The wait was going to kill you. Seconds became minutes, which became hours, which became eons. You stared at the bottom of your message like it would disappear if you looked away. You opened the picture of his bare torso again, unable to stop yourself from indulging in his huge body. You knew how those muscles felt, and you wanted to feel them again.
He didn’t respond. Your heart sank like a rock. You felt the train screech to a halt at the station, and it took everything in you to pocket your phone and leave the car.
You marched down to meet Hamish, trying to control the look on your face.
“Hey! Over here!” he called to you from the carpark.
You saw his smiling face and tried to match his energy,
“Hey! Thanks for coming.”
“You bet,” he said as he took your bags.
“Can we stop by the bakery around the corner? They’ve got all the cookies and pastries we ordered for tomorrow.”
“Of course, lass. No problem. Hop in.”
Hamish drove you around, the perfect gentleman, carrying box after box of dessert for his fiance’s shower, storing them carefully in the boot of the car.
“Wow, these smell incredible, don’t they,” he crooned, “Wish I could crash your wee party.”
“No boys allowed,” you said wryly, smiling at him, eliciting a genuine laugh.
The rest of the drive passed in companionable silence. He talked a little about his research, and you shared a bit about yours, mentioning your latest lecture. Otherwise, you checked your phone constantly.
Then, just as you pulled into the driveway of the MacTavish house, you got a text.
Unknown: Hello this is Captain John Price. Sergeant MacTavish’s phone is dead, and he is making me text you the word: promise.
You: oh thank you. can you tell him promise back?
Captain: Roger
Your stomach twisted for a different reason now. He wasn’t upset with you, which was a relief, but he had just shipped out on another mission. It was so sudden, it seemed like an emergency. You saved the captain’s number in your phone, just in case.
After hugging Pidge and helping Hamish with the boxes, you unpacked your bags and started the laundry. You met Pidge in the living room, watching her put the finishing touches on some gift bags.
“These are cute,” you commented, feeling the soft ripple of the ribbons tied around the bags in your fingers.
“Thanks,” she said as she fixed one of the bows, “Hope I made enough.”
“They’ll live,” you smiled.
“Hey, did you hear from Johnny again?”
“Uh…no, why?” You panicked.
“He said he doesn’t have my charger but now that muppet is not answerin’ me. Gonna pop him when he’s down for Christmas, I swear.”
“He’s coming back for the holidays?” You asked, a little too enthusiastically.
Pidge cut her eyes up at you briefly, responding in a measured voice,
“Yeah, just a week. Why?”
You wracked your brain for a reason, pretending to look at the calendar on your phone. Finally, you said,
“Think he’d drive me up from Glasgow? The train is awful at Christmas.”
“Oh,” she sighed, “God, he’s so irresponsible, babes. Not sure I trust him to get you here on time. But, I’ll threaten him. He’ll do it for me. He’s been so accommodating lately. Johnny boy is like a new man.”
“Oh, really?” You weren’t sure where this conversation was going, but you pried anyway.
“Did you know he paid for the rehearsal dinner? The whole damn thing! Having it at the wee distillery and everything. Right proper party we’ll be havin’. Cannae believe it.”
The Auchentoshan Distillery was Old Kilpatrick’s pride and joy. He’d spent a pretty penny if he’d booked it out for her.
“He loves you,” you confessed softly.
“He tries to,” she said a little bitterly.
You watched her pack up the bags, and you began to wonder about their relationship with each other. It was clear to you that there was some immovable object that was being pressed upon by some unstoppable force. They were at a quiet, bubbling impasse, ready to boil over at any moment. Yes, they loved each other. But, Johnny and Pidge had diverged somewhere, and it was a rift that needed to be mended.
The washer buzzed. You went to move over the clothes.
“I’m heading over to grab the girls. Wanna come?” Pidge asked you, her keys in hand.
“No room,” you observed, realizing they wouldn’t all fit in the car.
“Ugh, guess you’re right, hen. No worry, we’ll be right back. I’m excited to have a girls’ night.”
“Me, too,” you lied.
Well, it was a half-lie. You didn’t mind a girls’ night. It was more the fact that you’d have to hide your phone from view as you waited for Johnny to report he was back safe and sound.
After Pidge left, you crawled into his sheets. The memories of you and your soldier came flooding back again, but this time they swirled together with all of the complexities that you were facing. The simplicity of that brief night you shared had become warped by reality, and you realized you needed to come to terms with your emotions before you got hurt.
FRIDAY EVENING
Your phone buzzed in your hand, waking you. It was warm from being on the charger and covered up by your body. You hoped that didn’t break anything. Sleep had taken you over like a surging wave. You didn’t realize how exhausted you were from your week.
Unknown: heyyyyy this is soaps mate kyle. he wanted to let you know we’re back.
You: thanks for letting me know
Kyle: you bet
You were kicking yourself. You should have asked if he was okay. Just when you were about to ask Kyle to check on him, you heard the keys jingle in the door. Swinging your feet to the wooden floor, you got out of bed and met the gaggle of ladies in the foyer.
Cheek kisses, bright hellos and how-are-yous filled the once-quiet house, and you pocketed your phone, trying to distance yourself from the pang of concern.
You tried to keep up with the fast-paced conversation, but you weren’t the social butterfly that Pidge was. Anjali, Bekah, and Cherise were all gushing about their own lives, and you had very little to share. They were polite enough, asking you about your studies and pretending to care when you answered them.
“Oh, cool,” Cherise said, sipping on wine out of one of Pidge’s nicer glasses, “Poems are cool.”
“Yeah, I was Juliet in that one play,” Bekah said, proudly.
“And she’ll never let us forget it either,” Anjali rolled her eyes, and everyone laughed.
They were quick to forget you again, turning back to their recent Tinder date disasters and successes.
“And this bloke - the one with the beard thing - he ask me and this other girl to the same restaurant, on the same night! I thought she was gonna kill him right there in front of the maître de!” Anjali lamented.
Cherise smiled like a Cheshire cat,
“Lachlan is taking me on his boat next weekend.”
“We know! Shut up about the boat, you slag,” Bekah clipped.
Cherise shot back quickly,
“You’re just mad ‘cause Soap hasn’t texted you today.”
You gave the girls your full attention now. You darted your eyes to Pidge who rolled them, but looked otherwise unbothered. Bekah turned her phone around and you saw the image she was eager to display,
“He’s on bloody thin ice. I asked for a pic of him in his uniform, and all he sent me was a picture of some nasty sand!”
Your chest clenched tight enough that you couldnt breathe. It was your picture. Your morning photo from a few days ago. He was holding his breakfast, outstretched, and you could even see your hair tie on his wrist, the rolling dunes of the desert stretching out before him into infinity.
“Men, am I right?” Anjali finished her wine.
Maybe she was right.
SATURDAY MORNING
You’d slept beside Anjali that night, sharing the bed willingly but not enthusiastically. She had snored through most of it, and you’d barely gotten any sleep. It wasn’t just her snoring that kept you up. In fact, you were using her as a scapegoat. You had been thinking about Johnny.
It was like you were having a war in your mind. On one hand, it was just a picture of some sand, but on the other, you had no idea how many texts they had shared before or after that. Your heart broke easily, shattering melodramatically, whining about how you weren’t special and that if you didnt control yourself, you’d be sorry for it. He was just a playboy, just like everyone said.
Your brain, however, begged you to see reason. He sent her a picture of sand, not his naked torso, and he had forced his teammates to text you your passcode when he went on his mission. Surely that was enough proof that he cared about you and not Bekah.
It wasn’t enough, said the heart.
It has to be enough, said the head.
It shouldn’t even be happening, said the soul.
You watched the sun peek through the blinds just as they had when you’d been wrapped in Johnny’s arms, naked and warm against his pink skin.
You sighed and got up to shower.
The party was at two, so you had plenty of time. You made it over to Ettrick’s early to help set up, walking alone since you knew the others would be in heels and wouldn’t all fit in the car. You’d brought flats, sensible but stylish, and a comfortable, albeit sparkly, maxi dress. You felt like shit. Sleep would have been nice, you thought.
Hamish had delivered all of the boxes for you this morning, and the wait staff at Ettrick’s was setting it out for you. You rearranged it as artfully as you could, and you were just about finished when your phone buzzed.
Mo Chroi: phone’s alive! sorry i disappeared on you thief. forgive me?
You: glad youre ok
You: party starts soon
You: cookies.jpg
You: dessert_table.jpg
Mo Chroi: wow! did you do all that? pigeon is gonna be chuffed
Mo Chroi: heading out to the next spot
Mo Chroi: helicopter2.jpg
You: want me to tell Bekah hi? she was waiting on you to text her back last night
Mo Chroi: ?? no
Mo Chroi: why
Mo Chroi: what did she say
Mo Chroi: thief?
You: just that she was hoping you would text her back. idk
You thought about it for a little while before sending a final text.
You: i think she wanted more than just a sunrise.
SATURDAY NIGHT
You had three missed calls from Johnny, but you were too busy trying to deal with gift unwrapping, keeping the peace at the over-crowded tables, and rushing out appetizer trays when the wait staff became too overwhelmed. It was chilly tonight, but you were sweating under your long dress.
You thought about what you’d said to Johnny, and you were mad at yourself for trying to get a rise out of him. You didn’t want to be the one playing games, and you needed to curb your jealousy. He was allowed to text whoever he wanted, just like you were.
You: sorry. cant pick up. busy with your sister
You: champagne.jpg
Mo Chroi: answer my calls thief
Mo Chroi: i have to drive the rig but im calling you as soon as we get to our site
Mo Chroi: trucks.jpg
Mo Chroi: at least tell me when you get back. promise
You: promise
SUNDAY, 0200
You: i made it back to my apartment. hamish drove me. train was down for maintenance.
You: marlowe-in-a-bag.jpg
You: marlowe is mad that i was gone
Mo Chroi: im glad youre alright.
Mo Chroi: gaz took this at our training today
Mo Chroi: group_pic2.jpg
You: yall look tough
You: whos the one in the middle
Mo Chroi: thats the captain and ghost has the dog
Mo Chroi: go to bed thief. its late
Mo Chroi: sunrise2.jpg
Mo Chroi: can i call you later? its important
You: ok
SUNDAY, NOON
You woke to the sound of rain. A loud peal of thunder pulled you from the darkness of your sleep. You would have stayed with Pidge, but you just couldn’t face his bed again. Hamish was happy to be your chauffeur, even after you learned that the train was out of service. You tried to buy him some gas, but he adamantly refused.
A headache stung behind your eyes, drilling into you, punishing you for the champagne. You hadn’t been drunk, but it had been sweet, and now you were paying the price for your sugar rush. You checked your phone.
Pidge: hHad such a great night!!. Thanku for everytingf i lov youuuu!!
Pidge: omg Anji just boked inthe sink
You didn’t reply. She was probably still asleep, along with the rest of the household. There was nothing from Johnny, yet. It wasn’t unusual. He was busy with terrorism, you figured. He would text you if he wanted to text you.
Digging in your freezer, you found some leftover soup and put it on to reheat. Your phone rang.
The selfie of you and Johnny at Glencoe flashed onto your screen. You let it ring again before you picked up.
“Hey,” you said softly, your voice still hoarse from sleep.
“You still asleep, thief. I’m sorry to wake you,” he didn’t sound sorry.
“It’s okay,” you sighed, “Just making some soup. Rainy here. Cold.”
You: rainy_window.jpg
He groaned, and you could hear the creak of a mattress in the background,
“Mm. Spent the whole day on my belly doing target practice. I miss home.”
Mo Chroi: sniperpractice.jpg
“Yeah? Looks sandy and hot. Too bad there’s no beach,” you stirred the soup.
“I miss you, mo mèirleach.”
You stopped stirring the soup.
“I miss you, too.”
“Do you? Or are you cross about my texting Beks?”
“Both,” you went back to stirring the soup.
“Sent it to Hamish, too. You cross about tha’?”
You sent back silence.
“And if I told you Bekah’s an old friend from grammar school, and that’s all she’ll ever be, would you believe me, lass?”
Silence was all you had to give, apparently. Finally, you poured the soup into a big bowl and set it down on your coffee table, shoving your papers and books aside, and said,
“This soup looks amazing. Wanna see it?”
You: soup.jpg
“Thief. She’s just a friend.”
“I think there’s a song about this actually…”
“I think I’m fallin’ for you, and I need to know if you’re fallin’ for me, too.”
The bite of soup you were about to take hovered in your spoon, frozen in time. You could hear him breathing in your ear, waiting on your response. You could feel your heart shudder in your chest.
“Johnny. We can’t…”
“Don’t. Don’t start with tha’ mess, thief. Tell me you aren’t fallin’ for me, and I’ll stop. No more texts. I’ll leave it alone.”
“She’ll never forgive me, Johnny. I don’t have anybody else, don’t you get that? I’m not even from here. I’m spending Christmas with her because I don’t have anywhere else to go. You have a whole town who loves you, and she’s your sister. She’ll forgive you in a heartbeat.”
“You have me, don’t you, thief?”
“Do I?”
It was his turn to push silence out through time and space, sending it up to the cellular satellites and mirroring it back down to you. Firing frustrated breathing noises across cables and wires and whatever other stupid fucking technology was happening to you right now.
“Alright, lass.”
The phone beeped at you to inform you that the call had ended, but you kept it pinned on the shell of your ear, desperate for even a moment of that silence again. You regretted your honor the moment you’d held it up, and you were angry at yourself for keeping a promise you’d promised to keep.
The phone clattered to the coffee table. The soup went cold.
MONDAY MORNING
There was no sunrise text for you this time. Your phone didn’t have any notifications at all, in fact. You made it all the way to the bus before you caved.
You: bus.jpg
You waited. Then, you waited some more. Nothing happened. You tried not to cry, and you failed. Luckily, the bus was empty, and the driver didn’t care about you enough to ask what was wrong.
WEDNESDAY MORNING
You: stuck in the library today. office is being cleaned.
You: library.jpg
Again, you were met with the cold emptiness of staring at your own responses at the bottom of your messages. You tried not to feel the sting of it, but you failed at that, too.
THURSDAY MORNING
You: giving a lecture today. kinda nervous about this one.
You: lectureroom2.jpg
You: hope youre okay
FRIDAY MORNING
Your phone buzzed three times, waking you up with a jolt. It was still dark outside. You fumbled with your phone, rushing to see the messages.
Kyle: Hey this is Kyle, Soap’s mate. We’re heading back to the black site, so it’ll be a few weeks until you hear from him.
Kyle: airplane_loading.jpg
You: thanks for telling me
Kyle: Soap asked me to tell you he promises?? I think thats what he said.
You: tell him i promise
You: and can you tell him that i made a mistake? he was right. about everything.
You: and im sorry.
Kyle: Will do!
You stared out of the window until the deep purples of night gave way to a cool pink morning glow, and you watched as the sun stretched its gentle arms up and over the river.
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
Chapter 07
#guile and guilt#john mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish#john mactavish smut#soap mactavish#johnny mactavish#john soap mctavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#soap x reader#soap mctavish#call of duty fanfic#cod mw2#cod mwii
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All right folks, Argonautica is a go! woohoo!
I wanted to start with a map just so i could wrap my head around the journey and get familiar with the major locations and events in chronological order. I'll do another image showing the major heroes, and then we can dive into individual scene/event illustrations. Ill probably do around 12 -14 images for this myth, so I'll have to be picky about which scenes i illustrate.
Argonautica 1: Overview and Map Route
I.) Iolcis; The crew departs from Jason’s hometown.
II.) Lemnos; the island tribe of women who murdered their husbands.
III.) Doliones battle: a mistaken battle results in the death of King Cyzicus
IV.) Chios: Hylas abducted by water nymph, Heracles left behind
V.) Phineus, a blind seer, is rescued by the Argonauts from Harpies.
VI.) The Symplegades (Clashing rocks) a treacherous passage.
VII.) Stymphalian birds: the heroes drive away the man -eating birds
VIII.) Colchis; Jason overcomes three trials of King Aeetes to obtain Golden Fleece with the assistance of the sorceress Medea.
IX.) Brygean Islands: Medea and Jason trick and murder her brother Apsyrtus to escape Colchian pursuit.
X.) Circes Island; The goddess purifies Jason and Medea of blood-guilt.
XI.) The Sirens; Orpheus drowns out the sirens calls with his own song.
XII.) Scylla and Charybdis; Thetis and Nereids guide Argo through
XIII.) Drepane Island: escaping 2nd Colchian fleet, Jason and Medea wed.
XIV.) Syrtes: three Nymphs instruct crew to carry Argo on their backs for 12 days
XV.) Garden of the Hesperides;
XVI.) Lake Triton: Triton, Son of Poseidon, instructs crew on passage to sea
XVII.) Crete: Medea uses her magic to defeat Talos, a giant bronze warrior
XVIII.) Aegina Island: the journey ove r, they perform rites for Apollo
Do you like this art? would you like to own a book jam packed with over 130 illustrations like this? Then please support my kickstarter for my book "lockett Illustrated: Greek Gods and Heroes" coming in OCTOBER.
click on my LINKTREE for the Kickstarter link to "notify me when the project goes live." In my linktree is also a link to join my free email newsletter for book updates in the coming months, with free Hi res art and a 25% etsy print shop discount!
#pagan#hellenism#greek mythology#tagamemnon#mythology tag#percyjackson#dark academia#greek#greekmyths#classical literature#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo#homer#iliad#classics#mythologyart#art#artists on tumblr#odyssey#literature#ancientworld#ancienthistory#ancient civilizations#ancientgreece#olympians#greekgods#zeus#hesiod
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PJO SEASON 2 / SEA OF MONSTERS SPOILERS / HOO SPOILERS
In Season 1, they never fall for any traps orchestrated by the monsters, and I REALLY hope that it doesn't continue in Season 2. Like they get their ass beaten at every turn!
Laistrygonians? Annabeth and Tyson to the rescue;
Stymphalian Birds?
Hydra? Clarisse saves the day;
Scylla and Charybdis? Sunk the ship;
Sirens? Percy forgets to disarm Annabeth (DON'T YOU DARE CHANGE IT. I WANT THE UNDERWATER HUG);
Circe? GIVE US GUINEA PIG PERCY. GIVE US BEAUTIFULLY DRESSED ANNABETH. DON'T MAKE THEM KNOW EVERYTHING.
Now that I think about it, they'll have to do a "major" change. Reyna and Hylla are with Circe in SoM, are they actually gonna cast them? We are talking of characters in Book 2 that next reapper in Book 7, the problem is WE KNOW who they are.
Nico calling for Bianca is a very good Easter Egg, so how are they gonna do it?
In my opinion, when Circe separates Percy and Annabeth, she will say to a servant something like "take Annabeth to Reyna and Hylla", I will be fine with just a reference.
#percy#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson#pjo#pjo series#pjo tv show#percy jackson fandom#pjo spoilers#annabeth chase#percabeth#sea of monsters
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Call It What You Want: Chapter One
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine
pairing: nobreakout!joel x f!ofc (Violet Fletcher)
rating: explicit, MDNI 18+
word count: 2.1k
summary: Seeking solace from a painful breakup, Violet relocates to a tranquil town, purchasing a neglected house to renovate. In her new neighborhood, she befriends Harlow, who introduces her to Joel, a gruff and seasoned contractor with a heart of gold. Despite Joel's initial grumpiness, Violet finds herself drawn to his expertise and hidden kindness.
As Violet immerses herself in home renovations alongside Joel, their dynamic begins to shift, with Joel unexpectedly opening himself up to the possibility of love. Their budding relationship faces challenges as shadows from their pasts emerge, testing their newfound connection.
warnings/tags: nothing for now! just lots of light and airy fluff and a meet-cute! but don't worry, it's gonna get dirty 😈! oh, I guess age gap? yeah, that one.
a/n: alright, i've had MAJOR writer's block for a couple years now. I tried to write a Ted Lasso fic last year, but quickly lost steam. But somehow Pedge worked his magic on me and I'm already nine chapters in on this story and 25k words and I'm just now posting it! I hope y'all enjoy. This story means the world to me rn. <3
My keys jingled in the door, and I couldn’t help but let out an aggravated sigh. This was at least the third time this week that the front door was sticking. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed again, knowing my fate: I would have to crawl through the kitchen window.
Again.
As I walked around the back to go in through the kitchen window, I heard a voice calling my name. I looked across the street and saw my neighbor Harlow. She was standing on the last step of her front porch. One of her hands was held up to her brow as a temporary visor, blocking her eyes from the sun. She was shaking her head at me with a big, stupid grin.
“Girl, is that front door stuck again?” she asked, humor dripping from her faint southern drawl.
I sighed, crossing my arms in defeat and shifting my weight to one hip.
“Is there any use in lying to you at this point?” I called back in response.
She let out a loud laugh. “At least this time I caught you before you god forbid get stuck in that damn kitchen window again, ass up and legs flailing.”
I laughed at her comment and placed a hand awkwardly over my face in embarrassment. Two days prior I had gotten stuck climbing through the kitchen window when the front door had been jammed again, Harlow coming to my rescue.
“And I thought you had “finally fixed” anyway?” she asked, doing air quotes with her hands.
“I did!”
“And how is that working out for you?”
I shook my head with a laugh and flipped her the bird.
“Well, why don’t you come over and I’ll make us some breakfast?” she said, motioning me to come over to her, “and then you are going to let me call my friend who will come and fix your door. And I’m not letting you tell me no this time.”
I knew there was no saying no to her.
----
“Wait, so you’re telling me you just sautee mushrooms and onions, and then put it between puff pastry and a slab of beef?”
I nodded with a giggle. “Mmhmm. And then you brush the meat with mustard as well.”
Harlow’s mouth dropped open.
“I’ll make it for you sometime!” I told her excitedly, “I haven’t made it since culinary school, but I loved it.”
The doorbell rang and interrupted us. Harlow shot up from her seat excitedly.
“He’s here!” she said as she made her way towards the front door. She paused for a minute and turned to face me.
“Okay, just a warning real quick. Don’t be put off by the fact that he might be a bit of a curmudgeon,” she giggled.
“A curmudgeon? That’s such a specific brand of grump,” I said with a chuckle. She shrugged her shoulders before turning back around to get the door.
The doorbell rang a second time and I heard Harlow shout, “I’m coming! Be patient, Jesus…”
I giggled to myself and took a long drink of my coffee. Before I was able to set my mug down on the table, I looked up to see Harlow walk back into the kitchen, a tall man following behind her.
“Do you want some coffee Joel?” she asked him. I watched as he crossed his arms and leaned against the frame of the doorway.
“Yes, please,” he replied, emphasizing the please.
I started to stand up to introduce myself, but he caught my eye and put a hand up to stop me.
“Oh, no need to get up on my behalf,” he said, stopping me. I sat back down as he walked the few steps between us and held his hand out to me.
I took his hand in mine and he gave me a firm handshake. I almost missed him introducing himself to me. I was too focused on how the pads of his hand and fingers were callused, and how it felt against my smooth skin.
“I’m Joel.”
“Hi, I’m Violet,” I replied, thankful that at least the autopilot in my head was paying attention. A big smile spread on his face, causing his eyes to squint and get crinkly in the corners.
“As in the Violet that lives across the street in the 1940s fixer-upper?” He had the same faded southern accent that Harlow did. They had known each other for a long time.
“I feel bad that you seem to know more about me than I know about you,” I said, trying to not come across awkwardly. Joel took a seat and let out an airy chuckle.
“Oh don’t worry, there’s not much to know about me,” he said sincerely.
“We both know that’s not true,” Harlow interjected. She sat down at the end of the table between Joel and me, handing him his coffee.
“Thank you,” he said almost in relief.
I tried my hardest not to stare at Joel, but I caught myself looking him up and down more than once as we sat at the table and talked.
“Wait, so what’s goin’ on?” he asked, setting his now empty coffee mug down on the table. I sighed before tucking my hair behind my ear.
“Okay, so the original door knob kept catching and jamming. Something having to do with the original door knob not lining up correctly when it's closed. I thought putting a new door knob and re-aligning it would work. But then I tried to open my door when I got open, and it was stuck again,” I explained, “so I think it’s past me just YouTubing answers.”
“Well it’s a good thing that Joel here is a carpenter,” Harlow said, patting him on the shoulder. He smiled another crinkled smile at her.
“Retired carpenter, but yes,” he said, giving her a friendly wink, “but I can fix that. I bet you anything your doorway is slackin’ and need a new door. Either way, I’m sure I can fix it.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother-”
“If it was going to be a bother to me, I wouldn’t have come here in the first place,” he said with a knowing smirk. I tried my hardest to keep my blushing to a minimum, but my cheeks still grew warm.
Joel stood up and clapped his hands, rubbing them together excitedly. “Alright ladies, let's get up and go look at this door.” We all got up and exited the house, making our way across the street to mine.
I smiled up at the house as we made our way to the front door. Sometimes I still couldn’t believe it was mine. The house had been barely used for almost a decade. Each one of the five bedrooms needed to be redone. And the two bathrooms. And the sitting rooms. It was a lot of work, but worth it. Not to mention a dilapidated house was cheaper to buy than a ready-to-move-in one. I saw it as a way that I get to make the house exactly how I wanted it.
Once we were at the door, Joel held his hand out to me.
“Key please,” he said, locking eyes with me as he did. I fumbled into my pocket, pulled the key out, and placed it in his hand. “Thanks.”
He put the key in the keyhole and tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried turning it the other way, but it still didn’t move. I sighed.
“How badly did I fuck it up?” I asked. He let out a chuckle.
“You didn’t fuck it up, the house did,” he said, giving me a reassuring look. I watched as he pointed out areas around the frame on the wall, “I guarantee you it’s like I said, slacking in these places and putting the door off balance.”
“So what's the fix?” I asked, “Is it going to be intense?”
“Not at all. It’s a project I could do and get done by this afternoon. I just need to go get some things for it,” he said, still looking at the wall and assessing. “But I need to look at it from the inside before I can tell. Is there a way to get in?”
Harlow giggled. “Through the kitchen window. I had to help rescue her the other day, though.”
"I’ll give you a boost this time then,” he said with a smirk.
The three of us made our way around the back of the house, and I shimmied open the window just enough for me to fit through. Joel squatted down, laced his fingers together, and looked up at me.
“Ready?” he asked. I nodded in response. I took a deep breath, placed my hands on Joel’s shoulders, and then my foot in his hands.
“Three, two, one, up.” On ‘up’ I jumped with my foot on the ground as he simultaneously lifted me. I was taken aback a little by how effortlessly he did so, and how I could feel muscles through his shirt.
I grabbed onto the bottom of the windowsill and pulled myself up as Joel continued to push. He led the foot that was in his hands to his shoulder, where I was able to give myself a final boost and get through the window. I grabbed onto the edge of the counter inside and pulled myself the rest of the way in, accidentally landing in a thud on the black and white kitchen floor.
“You okay?” Joel and Harlow shouted in unison.
“I’m fine!” I called back as I got myself to my feet. I peeked out of the window to look at them. “I’m going to go find an easier window for you two to climb through and get it ready.”
I ran towards the front of the house, looking for a window that was lower and easier to get through. I decided on one of the windows that lined the porch. I haphazardly ripped the screen from the window and unlocked it. After opened it I stuck my head out and shouted, “Over here, you two!”
Once Harlow and Joel crawled into the house, Joel immediately headed for the front door.
“Have you decided on a paint color for this room yet?” Harlow asked me, looking around the room we were in. I shook my head.
“I’ve decided to keep the wallpaper. I’m just going to clean it and touch up the trim,” I told her with a big smile. She looked around the room at the wallpaper in question, wincing a little at the bold gold pattern on the walls.
“So, I was right,” Joel said, peeking his head around into the room. He nudged his head for me to come see. I swallowed the butterflies down into my stomach and went into the foyer. He nudged his head again before crouching down by the door knob. I closed the space between us and followed suit, crouching down so that I was at eye level with Joel and the doorknob.
Joel pointed his finger at where the door and the frame joined. “See how it’s not lining up, it's just a little too low.”
I watched as he stood up and grabbed onto the knob with both hands. With a grunt, he lifted the door and turned it at the same time. To my happy surprise, the door opened with no problem. Joe took a step back and placed his hands on his hips, looking at the door with a sense of accomplishment.
“So, a new doorframe?” I asked as I got to my feet. He replied with a “mmhmm.”
“Yep. I just need to take some measurements of the door and the frame. I know I have enough spare wood at my place, but I’ll need a new door. Did you say you have the original hardware?”
I nodded. “How much is a new door going to cost? I can get you the money for it.”
He shook his head. “Nah, don’t worry. I know a guy where I can get a good door for cheap. Consider it a housewarming gift.”
Harlow and I sat on my front porch as we watched Joel drive off in the direction of the woodshop.
“So, I thought you said he was a curmudgeon?” I said, keeping my gaze ahead.
“He is. Usually.”
She nudged my shoulder with hers, causing me to sway to the side. I straightened up and finally looked over at her just in time to nudge her back, biting at my bottom lip.
Usually. We’ll have to see what that means.
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller x oc#tlou hbo#the last of us#the last of us hbo#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfic#no outbreak!joel miller#no outbreak au
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It started with a bang.
Lots of bad things start with a bang, but this one wasn’t obvious.
A stray meteor hit Five. Wasn’t the first time, doubtful it would be the last, but Brains had built her strong enough to resist the majority of non-dinosaur-extincting rock events.
Most of them.
This one got through.
It was tiny, but it was enough to mess with some critical systems and it had both a worried Scott on the line and Brains jumping up and down as both John and Eos hurried to make repairs.
Virgil asked John to come down, but he chose not to.
Apparently his ‘bird needed nursing and Virgil, if he was honest, could respect that.
He really wished he hadn’t.
Being on the more paranoid end of the spectrum considering International Rescue’s history of getting the not so lucky end of anything, Virgil checked in with his space brother every half hour.
For the next twenty-four.
John was sympathetic until about the eighteen-hour mark. After that, he became snarlier each time Virgil poked him.
“Virgil, the damage has been repaired.”
“Humour me.”
“Why?”
Why? Virgil wasn’t sure, but he was sure that he needed to check on his brother. “Because it is my job.”
“Then maybe you should check your own readings because you are being beyond ridiculous.” And John cut the connection.
Great. He’d pissed John off – never a good thing to do.
But half an hour later, Virgil prodded him again. “John, report.”
“I’m fine, Virgil. Go to bed.”
Virgil peered closer at his brother’s hologram and frowned. “John?”
“What?!”
Virgil’s fingers darted over the sensor readouts from his brother’s spacesuit. “How are you feeling?”
“Annoyed. If you don’t stop this, I’m going to ask Scott to stop you from doing this.”
“Go for it.” He frowned at the oxygen saturation stat. “You sure you are feeling okay? Eos, can you give me an atmospheric reading on Five?” The numbers were all good, but something felt wrong.
Something had his hackles up, but he couldn’t identify what.
“All atmospheric reading are within the expected range, Virgil. John needs his rest, why are you continuing to disturb him?”
He stared at his brother floating far above. “I’m not sure, Eos.”
John rolled his eyes. “Then get back to me when you are.” His brother cut the connection.
Virgil sat back in his father’s chair. Maybe John was right. Maybe he was just edgy because of the meteor collision, a reminder of the brutality of space and his brother’s vulnerability so far above them. Maybe it was time for bed.
He lasted another hour before he commed John again.
“Virgil, whyyyy?”
Again, he ran his fingers over the sensors, again they tried to reassure him everything was okay.
But nothing was okay. Virgil was sure of it.
He just didn’t know what or why.
“I’m coming up.”
John stared at him. “What? Why?”
“Can’t I drop in to see my brother?”
“It’s 3am!”
“I’m a night owl.”
“I’m going to kick your ass, Virg. I’m tired. You’ve been bugging me for hours. Leave me alone!” The comm line cut again.
And Virgil’s hackles hit orbit.
John never called him ‘Virg’.
Ever.
“Eos?”
It took a moment. “Yes, Virgil?”
“Could you please lower the elevator?”
“He doesn’t want to see you.”
“Too bad. I need to check on his health.”
Eos didn’t answer.
“His health is important, Eos.”
Another long moment where Virgil considered waking Alan or Scott.
“Lowering elevator.”
There was no clarity in Eos’ voice as to her opinion but she was doing what he requested and that was all that mattered.
Half an hour and several layers of atmosphere later, Virgil was thankful for whatever sense that set him off.
He found John floating aimlessly in the central hub of Five. Above the vista of the planet, the holographics system was displaying a three-sixty view of family photos.
Scott grinned at him from the east, a baby Allie from the south pole, his father from the north, Gordy dressed in squid-print swimwear to the west and their beloved mother smiled her familiar smile from somewhere near Africa.
Virgil’s own picture took out South America next to Grandma in the South Pacific.
“John?”
His brother startled. “You! What do you want?”
Virgil eyed him. “Eos, can you give me those atmospheric readings again?”
“Yes, Virgil.” She rattled off the necessary numbers.
Unfortunately, they did not match the portable air sensor Virgil held in his hand. “Your readings are incorrect, Eos. Run a diagnostic.”
There was a pause as John continued to frown at him.
“Diagnostic complete. There are no errors in the sensor network, Virgil.”
“There is a contaminant in your air supply, John.”
“So you finally found an excuse for being annoying.” His brother flipped mid-air and stared up at the hologram of their father. “You hear that, Dad? Virgil finally has a reason for driving us all insane!” That last was shouted in Virgil’s direction along with a glare.
Virgil ignored it.
“John, I want you to come down to Tracy Island.”
“Why?” It was belligerence itself.
“Because you aren’t safe up here. And I miss you.”
“How can you miss me when you never leave me alone?!”
Virgil pressed his lips together and hit his comms. “Tracy Island, we have an Alert Gold.” The command would wake Scott and probably the rest of the house. It was an alert designed to help protect their most remote family member.
“You’re kidding.”
“No, John, I’m not.”
And John burst out laughing. “Do you ever hear yourself?”
Virgil didn’t answer.
“Obviously not. Other wise you would be insane by now. Or you would nag yourself to death.”
John didn’t mean it. He was under the influence. At a guess, there might be a leak in the thruster assembly, leaking oxidiser into Five. But why the sensors hadn’t picked it up…
“So are you going to tie me up and strap me to a bed because I don’t meet your standards of what I should be? Trample me until the numbers add up correctly?”
“John, Virgil is trying to help you.” Eos’ voice rang like a bell throughout the station.
John flinched. “So, you’re on his side now?”
“I wasn’t aware Virgil had a side.”
John grunted and glared his brother again. “You’ve infected her with your nagging.”
“We are just concerned about you. You are not yourself.”
His brother closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Thunderbird Five, status?!” Scott’s voice practically screamed a combination of worry and command over comms.
“You told! Dobbed me into big brother so he can nag me, too! Why can’t you all just leave me alone?!” John pushed off from the wall and threw himself towards the exit.
Virgil caught him mid-air.
It was a mistake. John was in his native environment. He flipped and slipped out of Virgil’s grasp. The engineer grabbed at his brother and missed as John used him as a launch point to finally reach the exit.
Before Virgil could regain his equilibrium, John had slammed the airlock shut and sealed him in.
Damnit.
“Eos!”
“Working on it.”
What could be stopping the AI from unsealing an airlock was a growing concern.
Dad glared at him from the ceiling.
“Thunderbird Five, answer me!”
Virgil drew in a breath, thankful for his uniform’s standalone air supply. “There is an atmospheric contaminant present in Five’s life support systems. I’m guessing we have an oxidizer leak from the thruster assembly. John is…not himself. I’m working on it.”
“Do you need Three?” In other words ‘can I come up there and join you before I melt from worry?’
“Give me ten and ask again.” He flicked off comms. “Eos, any luck?”
“I have contained him in his sleeping quarters, but you will need to hurry as he is currently attempting to override my program.” The speaker gave a little squawk and went silent.
“Eos?”
The airlock suddenly hissed open.
Virgil didn’t hesitate. He was through the exit and throwing himself after his brother without a second thought. He grabbed a spare helmet along the way. It was time to end this.
He found John yelling at the ceiling and pulling a control panel out of his shower cubicle. Why he thought that was a productive thing to do, Virgil didn’t know, but since Eos hadn’t said a word since, it was concerning enough.
The airlock to John’s quarters unsealed at his touch and Virgil slipped through, sealing it again behind him.
His brother didn’t look up from what he was doing. “So the brat let you out, did she?”
“John, you need help.”
“What I need is silence. No more nagging from annoying brothers. Didn’t you guys get the hint when I moved up here in the first place? All my life it has been the four of you in my ears, always bugging me. Now I’m in space and I still can’t escape you. Why can’t you leave me alone?!”
Virgil swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. “We care, John.”
“Only enough to satisfy your own concern. Not how I feel having to listen to all your caterwauling.”
He’s not himself. It became a mantra echoing through Virgil’s head, but a little voice asked if it was really the truth.
“I can’t believe that.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” John continued to rip electronics out of the wall of his shower.
“What are you doing?”
“Silencing the dawn.”
“In the shower?”
John finally looked up at him but his smile was eerie. “No better place.”
“Then I’m going to have to stop you.”
His brother snorted. “You can try.”
Virgil didn’t move immediately. Instead, he pulled up a schematic on his HUD and confirmed the wiring behind the shower unit. Most of it was innocuous, but one of the main power distribution relays was nearby and that relay supported the main computer. There was sense in John’s statement, of an extreme kind. Taking out Eos by taking out his Thunderbird.
He had no idea what kind of logic was churning in his little brother’s brain, but he had to stop this. He had to get John’s helmet on his head and his body and brain off the cocktail of whatever was in the air.
Virgil pushed off from the wall and barrelled into him. John saw him coming and leapt ceiling-ward. Virgil anticipated the move and compensated enough to grab his brother around the waist.
Virgil had the brute strength, but John had flexibility. Virgil’s only chance lay in hanging on.
So he did.
And John did not like it.
At all.
“Get off me!”
He struggled, shoving at Virgil’s arms. When that didn’t work, he tried to knee his brother in the gut.
Virgil grit his teeth and in return, wrapped his legs around his slippery space-suited brother and began climbing him inch by inch, to get that damned helmet on his head.
John yelled in his ear. Tried a few moves that Kayo, no doubt, taught him. The bruises were beginning to mount up and yet, Virgil still hung on.
John wasn’t himself.
Not himself.
The proof was in the fact he hadn’t yet really employed the solid and attacker-crippling techniques Virgil knew his brother was fully capable of. Instead, they spun around in a totally uncoordinated tumble hitting walls and furniture until Virgil was able to get enough of a grip on his brother to shove his helmet on his head.
The helmet hung loose as John took the opportunity to jab him in the ribs as a result and for a moment Virgil thought he was going to lose his grip and hence the battle, but he managed an extra push and his brother’s suit engaged, automatically switching to its portable air supply exactly as it was designed to do in an emergency.
Virgil continued to cling to his brother to keep that helmet in place long enough to do its job. It earned him an aching kidney and some creaking ribs, but eventually John stopped struggling and fell quiet. A glance through the plexiglass of his helmet and Virgil found John’s eyes scrunched shut.
“John?” Virgil’s voice was hoarse. His belly had taken a beating, literally. Thank goodness for his baldric and all the equipment that came with it.
“V-Virgil? God, my head.” John groaned, his gloved hand scratching at his helmet.
Virgil let out a breath and drew his brother closer. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” He brought John’s head down to his shoulder and held him safe in his arms. There was a need to grab the medscanner. He…he would do that in a moment. “Tracy Island, can we take you up on that offer of a pick up?”
“Virgil, launching now. What’s your status?” Scott was all worry and clipped syllables.
“We’re okay.” He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on John’s shoulder. “We’re okay.”
-o-o-o-
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds fanfiction#virgil tracy#john tracy#nuttyfic reblog#I have the next week off#here's hoping I can write something that is not a reblog
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Ballad of a Gooney Bird
Gazing skyward, her tail-wheel configuration appears as if she's ready to fly—embracing the celestial world above, loving the heavens like her airmen within.
Pulling chocks from her wheels, line personnel scramble beneath her soft beautiful lines. Aerodynamic curves, waiting to serve her desires, a calling to the sky.
The calm before flight, interrupted by the captain's call, "Clear, right!" A signal to anyone nearby to remain clear of the right propeller.
Pressing the primer, starter, and vibrator switches to the right, the first officer watches as her three-blade propeller begins to rotate on the starboard engine. On the twelfth rotation, puffs of smoke pour from the exhaust as the C-47 rumbles to life—vibrating the entire airframe.
Quickly releasing the starter switch, the first officer keeps pressure on the remaining switches, monitoring the response from the engine. As the rumble transitions to a roar, he releases the vibrator switch while gently advancing the mixture lever, he continues to work the primer until her engine settles into a consistent hum.
Waiting for the signal from the captain, the first officer prepares to repeat the procedure on her left engine—accomplishing the same series of steps that would be repeated countless times through the decades prior to each flight.
Whether preparing for her daring airborne drops over Normandy; flying the Hump between India and China; to rescuing U.S. forces from the frozen world of North Korea; or supplying the Berlin airlift; the rumble of each engine start still echos through aviation history today.
While her civilian sister, the Douglas DC-3, would serve U.S. airlines, the C-47 Skytrain—sometimes referred to as Gooney Bird—operated as a military transport aircraft from WW2 to Vietnam. While so many other aircraft steal the spotlight, the U.S. C-47 played a major role in conflict, a role unmatched during her era of flight.
Even today, her DC-3 sister still rumbles off runways, serving poorer nations around the globe. A testament to superior aircraft design, a soft simple beauty only recognized by her airmen.
My photos: Douglas C-47 Skytrain Mott's Military Museum, Groveport, October 16, 2021.
By @aviationgeek71
#c 47 skytrain#avgeek#aviation#aviation history#history#my photography#my photo#my writing#original photography#original writing
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hi okay. dungeon meshi crazy b au. i think it was @tunkus who encouraged me to type this so. thank u. for indulging me. some of this is up in the air and some of this is subject to change but lets get into it.
major spoilers for the central conceit to dungeon meshi. the anime hasnt gotten there just yet! Have a kohaku to keep you occupied otherwise.
Kaname is the Lord of the dungeon. HiMERU at this point, is a shared pet name between Kaname and our Merumeru. They explore together, Merumeru worked as a canary for a while, and they publish wildly different papers under the same name.
A while ago, Kaname got ensnared by the Winged Lion, so hes been ruling down there for a while and Himeru is slowly trying to lure him out and save him.
The original idea was to have Kaname be essentially a post dungeon Mithrun, with Himeru trying to find a solution, but I like the active role better. More Tojo brothers content.
Hiiro is our Falin, eaten and transformed in the dungeon. he and Kaname hang out. Kaname's new pet bird that wants to feed him. Another idea is to have him just be lost down there but i love. Chimiiro.
Himeru resurrects Hiiro knowing that he'll most likely be transformed, but does it anyways to lure out Kaname.
Rinne is still a runaway prince, so that makes me hesitiate with the ending. I don't want Rinne to be forced into leadership, but we can see how it goes/if people have ideas for it lmao.
Niki 100% still found a 17yr old Rinne on the street but due to being. a Gnome. They were closer to the same maturity (sad. sad) .
Rinne and Niki come up with the Dungeon Food idea together, Rinne comes up with the plan to eat food, but it's Niki's experience and talent that make it work. They lost all their money gambling down there, as well.
Himeru joins the group Post-Hiiro Incident, but he knew Kohaku beforehand, and help rescue him from his situation. (A living weapon created by the Suou family) Kohaku's reccomendation makes the deal better, as well as Himeru's willingness to leave the surface immediately.
I want it to be Rinhime focused, with both of them trying to figure out exactly what the other wants out of the dungeon. There's a huge bit I have in my head where Rinne mentions he's read Himeru's books and everyone assumes its the horrific bodice rippers Kaname writes, when no. Rinne reads Himeru's dry ass Plant Anatomy books.
The Canaries are a bigger factor earlier, as they were already on the way. Theyre headed by Madara (who knows Oremeru) and Mayoi is part of the group. Tatsumi may be as well but I haven't super thought of the guy.
IF YOU GOT THIS FAR..... THANKS..... ILY..... LET ME KNOW IF YOU LIKE STUFF OR IF YOU HAVE IDEAS..... BYE
#dunmeshi au#pax.txt#enstars#pax art#himeru#himeruposting#ensemble stars!!#ensemble stars#kaname tojo#hiiro amagi#those r the guys featured in images#rinne amagi#niki shiina#kohaku oukawa#rinhime#crazy b#madara n mayoi r mentioned#IF PEOPLE HAVE IDEAS.... PLEASE...#PLEASE SHARE WITH ME....
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INSIDE A BARN last month, a couple of hours after the rehearsal for the “Heart of the Matter” pageant, several dozen performers from around the world — paid puppeteers, interns, community volunteers — presented their proposed circus acts. Schumann typically reviews and critiques the sketches.
Most of the acts had a whimsical tone. A man imitating a bee (collapsing bee colonies the inspiration) did a frenetic waggle around a cardboard city that transformed itself into a tangle of dancing urbanites. An orca ambushed yachting billionaire puppets. When somber-looking tree figures appeared with a narrator reading facts about boreal forests versus the more flammable monoculture ones burning in nearby Canada, Schumann became agitated.
“It’s too cliché, something everyone already knows,” he shouted. “You have to stop using so many words and solve things puppetry-wise.” Then he jumped to his feet and started moving people and puppets around. He had puppeteers throw the trees and then dance with them, causing some confusion.
“It’s what you do, not what you say,” he said. “It’s puppetry, not preaching.”
He told them he would return in a half-hour to see a revision. Then, as dinnertime approached, he excused himself to help the kitchen staff make potato pancakes — a recipe from his war-torn childhood.
With admirable control, the puppeteers discussed how to rework their savaged piece, each giving the others time to suggest solutions. It was a utopian vision of collaboration, agile and practical — and typical of how the company functions.
“Peter has a strong directional voice,” said Ziggy Bird, 26, a company member who took notice of Schumann’s work in a theater history class at Temple University. “It’s never personal and some of the most beautiful moments come from frustration, which can be a kick in the pants.”
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[from comments]
In 1970, Father Daniel Berrigan was on the FBI's 10 most wanted list for his anti-war activities which led to a conviction and then his failure to show up for prison. A major event supporting Berrigan, after he became a refugee, was held in Ithaca.
The FBI was there waiting. The question was whether Berrigan would appear and speak to the thousands in the audience.
I was a stage hand and watched Berrigan enter the stage, unrecognized as he wore a motorcycle helmet. He removed the helmet to cheers and gave a speech. The FBI probably figured that they would avoid a riot and grab him as he left the building.
But then, from the back of the huge arena (Barton Hall), came chanting, weird music and lights. It was The Bread and Puppet Theater to the rescue. The ten foot puppets moved about as weirdness took over. Berrigan was alone on the stage, when the giant puppets came on stage and swirled around him in a spiral. I think I was the only one who noticed, from my stage hand perspective, as Berrigan slipped inside one of the puppets as the swirl unwound itself and kept chanting as they left the arena.
It took the FBI another seven months to catch up to Father Berrigan and send him to prison. I believe that this was one of the greatest puppet shows in history.
Yet, this is a story that few know about. Berrigan really was on the FBI's 10 Most Wanted list. and The Bread and Puppet Theater squirrelled him away to safety.
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Due to a family game of telephone, my mom told me yesterday morning on the way to a family graduation that my cousin's in-laws' giant "service" dog is part wolf. Mom has always been kinda nervous around him, because he is the size of a small pony and extremely serious... and her mental picture of me is apparently of me at seven flinging myself bodily on every large dog I have the good fortune to see.
In reality, this dog, who I see at baseball games sometimes, provides the "service" of obsessively guarding my cousin's mother-in-law. He assigned himself this job, and cannot be persuaded to stop. But it' genuinely helping the mother in-law, who is getting up there and starting to get frail. She got him the leash that says service dog before she recently got on oxygen, so people would stop asking to pet him because he's an abused rescue with a mouth large enough to do serious damage. And because he looks mostly like a german shepherd (size holy fucking direwolf,) and people are stupid.
He also prevents crowds from knocking her over with her oxygen tank and cane, by dint of clearing a two to four foot wide halo around her with his glare. They're training him to fetch another human if she takes a fall, or at least trying to. It isn't going well, because he has an objection to leaving her unguarded.
He will politely ignore other dogs, all preteen children, and the vast majority of women. Men are considered acceptable if they act calm and introduce themselves properly. Since I am no longer seven, my relationship with this extra large canine is that he arrives at an event, makes a growly little grumble at me to remind me that he is a bodyguard and I better remember it, then smells my hand and lets me pet him as long as he can keep an eye on his principal.
You can bury your hand up to the wrist in his fur if he has decided you are an acceptable companion for his principal, so I did not necessarily question my mom's assertion that he was part wolf, because she said it came from a genetics test (so it could be a good few generations back) and also because after whatever trauma was in his previous life, someone hauled him to the animal shelter from fuck-nowheresville Wyoming. Where most people searching for a dog looked at him, staring at them, not wagging, and thought, like our prehistoric ancestors "If I'm gonna feed that thing, it's going to be strictly so he never gets hungry enough to bother trying to eat ME."
My cousin's mother in law came in, in her bird-boned five nothing frame, and thought "he's perfect" and named him Panzer. Yes, she named him tank, but in German. (She also thought he was the Andre the giant of german shepherds.) Her husband looked at him walking out at her heel, and thought "it's been five minutes and that dog worships my wife and might be smarter than half my relatives" and gave in to the inevitable. Panzer treats him as the only acceptable substitute guardian for his principal, the queen of rescue dogs, which is the highest honor any man is gonna get from him. According to Panzer, her son and grandsons are mere servants of the queen. Trusted, but not sworn to her defense. Others (daughters in law, children, other old ladies with booze, assorted distant relatives) are allowed to petition the queen, with the strict understanding that bribing him with taco meat won't get him to change his vigil: He'll just take any bribe you're stupid enough to give him and get back to work.
So at my cousin's kid's graduation party today, I sat on the stoop, nearly elbow deep in Panzer's ruff fur, thinking of gallusrostromegalus' wolfdog stories. I decided that Panzer's wolfy ancestor must be at least a couple generations back, and went back to chatting with the old ladies who were either gossiping, or heckling the teenage boys playing bags. One of my other cousins' kids barreled in, bearing a lizard for me to photograph, and Panzer inspected the lizard, found it harmless, and returned to his stoic watch.
"Oh yeah," I said to the queen of rescue dogs, once I finished my duty as lizard paparazzo and the lizard was released from the red carpet, "My mom tells me you had a genetics test done on Panz. She said he was german shepherd and sheepdog and something else?"
"Oh yes, he's German Shepherd, some kind of balkan sheepdog, and Czechloslovakian Wolfhound."
Needless to say, I teased my mother for confusing Wolfhound with Wolf dog half of the ride home. Before we left, Panzer reminded me that I should bring the queen food based tribute, and that he was her official food taster.
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Earth 66 Headcanon Asks
1) Since they’re dating, how common is it for Mar’i to purr like a kitten when Jake is cuddling her?
2) Since they’re twins in your version; which one is technically the older sibling as they came out first, Mar’i or Jake?
3) Any storylines you’d like to do for the Grayson-And’r Family?
4) Similar as 3 only for the Super Family?
Good questions! @paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 :D
before I start, it’s actually Chris not Jake XD *sweet home Alabama plays in background.*
1: very common! Maybe like every 2nd or 3rd cuddle time. Mar’i would cuddle close to Chris, head on shoulder, hand on chest, & maybe legs & feet intertwined, & softly purrs. Chris does gently ruffle her hair like a pet. ;)
2: mar’i is the oldest, being 21 seconds ahead of Jake. (Since mar’i was create 21 years before Jake; 1996 to 2017)
3: hmmmmmmm top of my head I got 3! :D
1-Court of Owls: the idea of them being nightwing’s villains is pretty cool. (So I’m gonna borrow that from you if that’s ok?)
A lot of people are going missing in Bludhaven, & rumors spread around of mysterious black ninjas running around at night kidnapping people. The Grayson-And’r family, after some research, interrogation, & clues, mange to find an underground labyrinth with an army of talons (black ninjas) & “dead” people, plus some people in owl masks.
The main villains are: rich folk/mobsters (people who wears the owl masks) & NightWing’s ancestor: William Cobb (who wears a white/Gray talon suit to differentiate from regulars)
After the family beats up the majority of the villains, using ice equipment (cause talons are weakened by cold temperature) & the tamaerans starbolts (in my universe, you can kill these guys by turning them to ash) the only bad guy left standing is William Cobb. He decides to overdose himself with a chemical compound called: Electrum; which allows talons like himself to gain immortality, regeneration, & the typical superhuman stuff like strength, speed, & durability. When he did that, he grows super big & transforms into a giant bird monster.
He chases the family, knocking down everything causing the labyrinth to crumble down, the family got separated, dick with Kory and Jake with mar’i . Fortunately, Jake & mar’i did mange to reunited with their parents, unfortunately, mar’i got hurt during the battle hurting her legs & Jake had to carry her bridal style; Jake had to slide down a broken pillar while escaping a transform Cobb & there was a raised bump that hit Jake in the crotch, that causes his eyes to cross when he went over it. Jake: “d’oh! I think I peed my pants! (From the “famous” dragon escape scene from Shrek)
Heading close to the exit, the family does one final ice/fire combo that traps Cobb & have rocks to crush him to death & turned into ash by beams of starbolts.
(The next might be a little NSFW/dark, a little warning)
2-Doctor Light: Doctor Light (a major teen titans villain) decides to attack the family with a upgraded suit & kidnaps Kory, Mar’i, & Jake causing Nightwing to go rescue them.
Doc Light traps Kory & mar’i in chains while laying down on a table, arms spread & legs are facing forward. Jake was free but was getting beat up by him. After a small beating, he goes over to Kory & mar’i & starts touching their hair & (you can choose) starts climbing on top of either Kory or mar’i, rubbing his hand across “their” cheek. Jake gets back up & grab & throws doctor light across the room. Doctor light gets back up & tackles & starts choking Jake. With Doc being distracted, Jake uses whatever strength he got left & presses his foot into his crotch & headbutts the doc out cold.
For the final battle later on after rescuing his family: Nightwing is hurt & alone facing Doctor Light who powers up to the max, becomes pure light, pure energy but after digging out a picture that shows Kory, mar’i, & Jake, he gets back up & blocks hard light energy with his electric escrima sticks & blows Doctor light up. There is two different endings:
1- Nightwing dies similar to iron man in endgame (& Jake gets to become NightWing 2/3)
2- he gets knocked out for a few days & gets back up after that XD
3- Red Hood: in my universe, Jason Todd is either: permanently dead or comes back like how he did in the animated movie under the red hood, but he is fully a antihero/villain like his early comic book counterpart.
After the battle with Batman, (note: he didn’t blow up bludhaven yet in this version) he goes after the Grayson-Anders family (for reasons XD) & holds Jake & mar’i hostage. The house does get destroyed during a battle between him & Nightwing, fortunately, everyone is ok but Jason is injured from his fight with Batman & Nightwing & escapes into the unknown; injured.
4: I got 3, 2 original & the 1 from the above question.
1-Red Hood: in the original story: A death in the family, Batman really wanted to kill joker, but Superman talked him out of it. After learning that Batman WAS supposed to kill joker but was talked out of it, Jason decides to go after the Superman family years later after the battle with Batman & Nightwing. (Jason lost his memories & stayed at a church as a priest, he gains back his memories years later when seeing Superman on tv.
Red Hood creates a vigilante group called the red hood gang that has kryptonite weapons & attacks the superfamily (this is around the time the Super-Twins are a thing, probably a few weeks after the Blue Earth story). The SuperFamily (& a little help from Batman, & the Grayson family) managed to stop the red hood & his gang, but he sacrifices himself to take everybody out with a kryptonite bomb, but fails. The only thing that remains is a semi broken red hood helmet/mask. (Hinting that he is still alive)
2- Fire Of Olgun: this small “moment” in the comics has revived Osul-Ra from death on war world by mongul; & in one of the action comics, he was almost taken away from the New Gods (Orion). Annnnnd then it went nowhere XD I say use that to somehow age down Jon Kent (or retcon it saving osul as a potion not a “power up.”)
3- Slices Of SuperLife: mostly just slices of life moments of the superfamily like how we saw during Superman 2016 with the carnival & the road trip.
#youngtitans#jake grayson#mari grayson#chris kent#jon kent#osul ra#otho ra#super twins#superfamily#superman#conner kent#nightwing#starfire#dick grayson#kory anders
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Saw your tags and omg HARD AGREE. Dragon Cry is SO bad nfkanmdsa
ME AND YOU SHAKING HANDS
Actually yes thanks for giving me the excuse to rant. Hold on. I'm typing furiously rn.
-Okay first of all they gave us the most ridiculously confusing plot I've ever seen. The twist with Sonya being Animus was kinda cool but they never really. Explained why she had a bond with him? She mentioned he used to be kindhearted at some point but we never see that literally ever at any point in the movie?
-The storyline is so all over the place it's a HOT mess. Especially the scene right after Natsu escapes the weird bird cage thing he runs off to find the others and suddenly they're all there? For some reason? Where did they come from. Why didn't they have a little reuniting scene. I literally rewound the movie to make sure I didn't accidentally skip a scene but nope they just made the most awkward cut/story progression in history I guess!!!
-The fanservice was so. SO bad. Like yeah the majority of the time I can at least tolerate it but this time it just made me extremely uncomfortable. Why are Erza and Lucy's boobs SO fucking large. Why did they have to make Lucy dance in like two strips of cloth. I thought I woke up in an alternate universe where Fairy Tail was a hentai. I genuinely wanted to vomit lmao
-The animation style really threw me off like I can tell it was either animated by a different studio or they wanted to try a different art style for the movie? But it just felt wrong and the proportions and faces were weird and. Yeah idk.
-What was up with the Three Stars?? Iirc we never got to learn their names or what their motivations were they were literally just. There. And they were built up to be these super powerful wizards only to get their asses kicked by FT like two scenes later. I get that being a movie obviously the fights had to be shortened but they literally did the same thing in Phoenix Priestess but WAY better. They really were like yeah uh we need some enemies for Team Natsu to fight let's just go with these guys and not give them any personality or backstory or motivations. (Except for the doll dad he was okay I guess)
-WHY WAS LEVY THERE. LITERALLY. ACTUALLY. She literally did nothing she served NO purpose in the movie she was just there?? Did they just want to shove in as many cameos as possible??? I know generally Levy isn't much of a fighter which is fine, I was kinda expecting them to do a Gajevy scene where Gajeel rescues her from some soldiers or smth which would have been fine but they didn't even do that. She literally just stood there and had like 2 voice lines. GO GIRL GIVE US NOTHING
-SPEAKING OF CAMEOS this is more personal beef than anything but man WHYYY wasn't Loke in the movie,, my boy my beloved my stupid idiot lion I'm so mad he wasn't even onscreen for like, 5 seconds
-I'm sorry but Juvia was so unhinged this movie her possessive/stalker behavior over Gray was actually super fucking creepy lmao
-What did they do to Happy. What the FUCK did they do to Happy
THEY MASSACRED MY BOY. LOOK AT HIM. HE'S GOT ANXIETY
-ALSO the scene where Happy and Lucy were crying over Natsu and we got tons of flashbacks from his POV of people who are important to him? WHY THE FUCK WASN'T HAPPY THERE?? They literally showed everyone from Fairy Tail precious to Natsu except Happy and I'm just sitting here like. HELLO?? You are SO wrong for that
-I will say I DID enjoy the little Nalu teasers we got especially the scene where Natsu showed Lucy the stars 🤧
But yeah I was here for this and this only:
The Nalu + Happy family bonding moments made it OKAY
Anyway sorry rant over. Dragon Cry bad. Natsu's brief moment of looking half dragon was a super sexy character design choice but the buildup is not worth it imo
#God damn it I just *clenches fists* hate Fairy Tail. That's a lie I love Fairy Tail.#Which is why I'm so mad this movie did it dirty#Shima answers questions#Phoenix Priestess was so good especially in comparison to this......#Ughhh this movie could have been FANTASTIC if they'd actually written it better#Anyway it wasn't AWFUL it was standard as far as anime films go. But I definitely wouldn't recommend#And I'm definitely not going to watch it a second time lmao#Long post#SORRY IDK WHAT TO TAG THIS. ASK TO TAG. I don't want to put my negative ramblings in the tags#Negative#I GUESS?? IDK#Fairy Tail#FT#Nalu#Fairy Tail Dragon Cry
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I feel like the argument that “we’ve always kept birds” is kind of weak though? Yes humans have kept birds for a long time but we’ve also kept various monkeys as pets through the ages and that’s undeniably unethical as it causes a lot of distress to the animals. You admit that there are probably very few people who can keep certain high need birds as pets, but for every person with the skills+money+time there’s a hundred schmucks who get a high need parrot because they saw a funny video on the internet and they’re easy to acquire.
There is nuance to be had here but I think that a complete dismissal of welfare concerns surrounding wild (non domesticated) birds as pets as “pearl clutching” is disingenuous.
I would agree with you if there wasn't an active shelter crisis right now with countless domestically-bred parrots who do not have homes, largely as a result of this anti-parrot-owning backlash
and I bring up the longevity of parrot ownership to indicate it isn't a fad or something new, but a long running practice. And like, parrot and bird ownership has been waaaay more common than monkey ownership. it's not a fair comparison. Especially given plenty of parrots actively seek out human companionship on their own (the stories I hear from my friends from South America...)
I don't dismiss welfare concerns - far from it. I dismiss people who say "no one should have a pet bird" because they're being a) controlling and impractical and misunderstanding human nature and b) ignoring the nuances of parrot ownership itself and c) actively causing a major crisis that apparently no one outside of the bird-o-sphere knows
like, you should have seen the shelter I got my most recent rescues from. It was packed, they didn't have enough volunteers, everything was running thin. They were actively grateful we could take home this pair of birds that had been there for over a decade.
I use "pearl clutching" because all of this moral panic stems, ultimately, from a very evangelical/protestant black and white ethical view, and gets perpetuated through this website's unfortunate tendency towards Moral-OCD. And these hard rules (no exotic pet is ethical, etc.) have real consequences, bad ones.
It is important to communicate nuance. And too much of nuance in the "pro parrot owner" column has been completely lost, or treated as anti-animal. I'm merely indicating that is an oversimplification.
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So since @aaronofithaca05 had asked me about my new tattoo that started one of my favorite headcannons of Odysseus getting a tattoo at war here it is! Done during a small trip I had by the talented artist:
https://www.instagram.com/poporotattoo?igsh=MW1iZThnZGt5NzVrZw==
It is symbol of my homeland, Greece and a promise of me going back there one day one way or another (since I currently live in Sweden). It was inspired by frescoes found in Greece especially in Crete and Santorini
Dolphin: The national animal of Greece and always mentioned as a protective talisman for sailors to a country surrounded by sea. The dolphin comes from the ancient Greek word that means "womb" and was meant to show how Greeks believed that they are mammals. The word Dolphin also sounds similar to the word that means "brother" "sister" or "sibling" in Greek.
The dolphin was an animal linked to many gods and goddesses of Greek mythology with some of the major ones being Poseidon (the dolphin revealed to him the hiding place of his future wife Amphitrite and often seen pulling his chariot), Dionysus (Dionysus transformed the drowning pirates to dolphins) and of course Apollo (linked to the myth of Delphi -giving the name to it- and the rescue of the musician and poet Arion)
Dolphins have been a symbol of freedom, intelligence, playfulness and sexuality by many researchers. It is an animal known to protect the sailors in the long voyages at sea. Their social behavior has also linked them with humans (thus the name "dolphin" also linked to the word "sibling")
To me it is a symbol of greece and my culture in general linked to my language, my land and my family.
Swallow: A little bird linked a lot with spring in Greece for they come to Greece after winter to make their nests and have their babies before flying back to Africa for the winter. A swallow is a beloved bird in Greece and symbol of Greek presidency.
In mythology the swallow was also linked to some gods and goddesses particularly Aphrodite but also Athena (Athena transforms into a swallow and flies away from Telemachus in the Odyssey). Also in the Odyssey it is mentioned that the chord of Odysseus's bow "sang like a swallow" when he used it to kill the suitors symbolizing his homecoming.
Swallow have always been linked to journeys specially to homecoming since they always come back during their migration trips. Their speed and ability when they fly is also linked to their capability of achieving such a dangerous trip despite their size.
To me it is a promise of returning home to my land one way or another and is also linked to my favorite books Iliad and Odyssey that make me feel proud that literature from my land has reached so far in people's hearts 💕
They are also moving in a never ending circle with each other hahaha also unconsciously a symbol of Poseidon vs Athena?! 🤣 dunno maybe hehehehe
#greek mythology#odysseus#the odyssey#greek myth#odyssey#iliad#athena#poseidon#apollo#dionysus#swallow#dolphin#tattoo#symbolism#symbolic#symbolic tattoo#mythology#just a greek being homesick
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Wing whump anon here again! Basically, my OC was tortured for information by a very sadistic character and suffered quite a bit of damage to his wings. Lots of broken bones and torn feathers. By the time their caretaker got to them to rescue them, they were in pretty rough shape. I’m not sure how I should go about describing the recovery/healing. Thanks so much for answering my ask! :)
welcome back wing anon! sorry i didn’t answer this yesterday, but here’s some suggestions i thought about overnight:
if your whumpee has broken bones, you have two options. you can give them a human healing time, or a bird healing time. birds tend to heal a lot faster, about 3-4 weeks, compared to a human’s 6-8.
if a bone heals out of place, this can cause major issues with the wing’s comfort and functionality. stuff like not being able to move it or fold it up properly, etc.
in terms of feathers, due to blunt force trauma your whumpee probably has some broken blood feathers. i would highly recommend researching this a little more, but treatment can be painful and difficult to do (and make for great whump)
now, in terms of actual caretaking information and prompts:
caretaker has to grapple with the thought that whumpee may never be able to fly again (a thought that has plagued whumpee since day one of their torture)
whumpee has trouble sleeping because they can’t find a comfortable way to lay their wings
PREENING. MAKE CARETAKER PREEN YOUR WHUMPEE’S FEATHERS.
obviously, dealing with healing giant wings is something human’s aren’t used to, so your caretaker is probably quite confused and uneducated
maybe whumpee won’t let caretaker anywhere close to their wings because of how whumper treated them, and therefore caretaker can’t help them
i hope some of this helped! sorry it’s so long, i had a lot of ideas. please come back if you ever have any more questions! (also, in the future, if you’re comfortable with it, i’d love to read this story. it sounds very interesting!)
#whump#writing#whump scenario#whump prompt#whump writing#whumpee#caretaker#wing whump#answered ask#answered anon#whump ask#ask
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