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lullabyes22-blog · 2 months

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Snippet - Tipping Point - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

Silco forces Vander's hand beyond all recourse.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

"They're like a cult," Vander said, their last night together.

Silco didn't glance up. He'd been sitting at the Drop's table, hands laced under his chin, poring over a map. Black ink, red ink. Blue strings running in between, like the veins in a corpse. He'd been at it all evening, and his eyeballs vibrated. So did the rest of him.

Usually, he'd take the percolating mania and channel it into Sevika. She was a solid presence: always available, always hungry. By now, he'd all but moved into hers and Nandi's flat. There was gossip, as there was bound to be. Neither he nor Sevika gave a toss.

Nandi was gone, and he couldn't shake her loss.

But at least he could fuck his way out of the grief.

That's what he and Sevika did, most nights: fucked, then slept, then fucked again. Mornings, they'd wake with sour mouths, and sour moods. He'd brew her tea, and she'd suck his cock under the table. Afterward, they'd share a plateful of sump-vole fritters, and plot the day's course. Then she'd leave for her patrol, and he'd go to work at the Drop. Evenings, they'd rendezvous at Jericho's. A little more planning, a little more fucking. She'd rub his shoulders, or he'd knead her calf-muscles. She'd feed him bits of smoked sardines, and he'd eat her out until her toes curled. Then, after the drinks were drunk and the dishes were washed, they'd fall into bed again.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

It wasn't love—neither of them was ready for that. But it was easy. It was enough. A rhythm he could fall into; a routine she could count on. Sevika wasn't Nandi. Everything about her was a fraction heavier, harder, coarser. She wasn't soft; she wasn't sweet. But her body was a good one, and her mind a keen one. Her temper could flare; but her humor could cut.

And her laugh, though rare, chased all the shadows out of the gloom.

He could live with that. Hell, he could live for it. Even—love it? In time. When Zaun was theirs, and the dead laid to rest.

Not that night.

That night, the maps wouldn't stop jittering. His mind kept running in circles. Sevika wasn't due till late. There was only Vander.

Only Vander, and his looming shadow.

And Silco's own: darkening the map.

"A cult, you say?" he said. A fortnight, he thought. The time's nearly up. "That's high praise."

"Is it?" Vander's chin jerked towards the flapping door, where a pair of scrappers had just slunk out. "That lot were practically beggin' for commands. Looked at you like you were a bloody god." He grimaced. "Makes my skin crawl."

"They're useful." Silco stirred the page with a fingertip. "Steady hands."

"An' sharp knives." Vander's brows bristled. "I ain't seen a lick of their faces, but I bet they're young. Too young for this kind of job."

"We were all too young."

"And look what happened." Vander crossed his arms over his chest, his face granite except for the vein throbbing in his temple. His jowls were furred with stubble; all attempts at grooming had ceased the past few weeks. "The Lanes are crawlin' with their sort lately. They'd kill their own mothers for coin. An' you've got a talent for pickin' the worst."

"Perhaps," Silco rejoined, "I prefer company with an ounce of ambition."

"Ambition's the least of their bloody traits!"

"Vander, use your thick head. We're at war." Silco tapped the maps with an idleness that belied his irritation. "And war needs more than soldiers and stalwart hearts. It needs spies and saboteurs. People who'll do the dirty work without compromising the cause. I have my contacts, and they have theirs. If it weren't for them, we'd have no way to ship our goods."

"We wouldn't have a bunch of cutthroats loose in the Lanes, neither."

"We've always had cutthroats."

"Not this many!" Vander's fist slammed against the table, rattling the glassware. Once, Silco would've jerked. Now, his body-language betrayed nothing. Passions were a volatile commodity; a good leader could ill-afford to succumb to his own. He'd learnt the hard way and meant to profit from the lesson. "They're a fuckin' infestation! Eyes like dead things an' smiles like wolves. They've got no limits. All they want is blood."

"The world's made them that way."

"An' you're the one exploiting 'em."

"I'm offering them a choice."

"Are you?" Vander glowered, looming into his space. "What are their options, huh? Down the gutter, or up the river? They're not loyal, Silco. They're fanatical. To you."

"To us," Silco corrected.

"I didn't ask for a cult!"

"Then maybe you should!"

Their eyes locked from across a flashpoint of inches. In their debates, as a rule, Silco weighed Vander's words before his own. It was a practice borne of equity: no partnership comes without compromise. Lately, though, they never debated. He'd get an earful of strident moralism.

Tonight he'd had enough.

"Right now, our plans are only partially done,” he said. “But unless we get every cutthroat, snitch and sneak-thief on our side, they'll be undone. The Wardens will kill us all. You. Me. Sevika. Benzo. They'll raze the Lanes to the ground, and salt the ashes. And when the smoke clears, the soft ones—the ones like Nandi, like Lika and her girls, like your two boys—will be put to work. All our children will die before they've a chance to live. Is that what you want?"

"Don't make this somethin' it's not." Vander's jaw jutted. "You think I don't want Topside's boot off our necks? You think I wouldn't give anything to make sure our kids breathe easy? You think I don't think back on Bloody Sunday every single damn day? What was lost? What you—" Silco's head tilted, a basilisk lifting, and Vander backed off just enough to avoid his stare. "...what we could've done."

"Could've. Would've. Should've." Silco's eyes descended to subzero. "All excuses for a failure to act now. Or maybe the Hound's losing his teeth?"

Vander's nostrils flared. He unbent to his full height stepped around the counter, a slow, lumbering turn. His shadow engulfed Silco like a fist.

"If you had any idea," he said, a whiskey-waft of heat. "Any. How much I'd like to—"

"To what?" Silco challenged. "Discipline? Force me to obey? Do try. I could use a spot of fun."

Vander seized a fistful of his shirtfront. The next moment, Silco found himself being dragged across the countertop. The whiskey glasses toppled to the floorboards. The ledgers and maps scattered. He was half-slung through the air, the room upside-down before the breath was knocked out of him.

His spine hit the wall, legs dangling. A fist pinned him in place.

Vander's features were contorted, a red-hot fury at once leashed and explosive. His fingers closed around Silco's throat. He didn't squeeze. Not yet. But the threat was there.

"D'you even listen to yourself?" he gritted. "D'you have a shred of decency left? Or did Nandi's death knock it all outta you? She'd be ashamed. To see you. To see what you're doin'!"

Silco let one corner of his mouth curl. "What am I doing?"

"You know damnwell what!"

The nights, he meant.

The plainclothesmen gutted in the shadows. Their bodies left in the open where everyone could see. The edge of Silco's knife never clean when he came home.

"It's not the way," Vander said, a hairline crack in his voice. "You know it isn't."

"You haven't stopped me."

"Stopped you?" Vander's knuckles flexed. "I've tried. Every day since you started. I thought...you'd get it out of your system. You'd snap out of it. But you haven't. You won't. You've gotten a taste for it."

"I have a taste for keeping us alive."

"You have a taste for murder!" Vander shook him. "An' I can't keep turnin' a blind eye. You're the best thing that's happened to the Lanes, Blut. If the Undercity had to choose, they'd have my back. But we'd all be six feet under without you! That's why you need to get your shit together. Because when this is over, I won't let you walk away."

"Threats, Vander?"

"This has gone far enough." Vander's pitch dropped. The Hound's warning rumble. "If you cross the line again, I won't hesitate."

"You won't have to."

"What?"

"The Sheriff has issued a search warrant. In a fortnight, the Enforcers will crack down." Silco's eyes went past Vander's shoulder, where the maps had fallen. "A citywide sweep. We'll lose the advantage. Our networks, our stockpiles. Everything. Unless—"

Vander's hold on his neck tightened. "Unless what?"

"We strike first."

"First." Vander's grip stayed immobile. But his stare was no longer a blister. It was a burn: eating Silco alive. "Fuck. This is what you've been planning."

"A smokescreen."

Silco's fingers folded around Vander's wrist. It didn't budge. Vander was strong; the strongest he'd ever known. Struggling was besides the point. Part of him was already prepared to go all the way. To let go and take Vander with him into the freefall of blackness.

"The Enforcers bodies will divert Topside's attention," Silco went on. "Their patrols will be spread thin. The bodies were all near the Canal Zone. They'll believe our operation was concentrated there. Meanwhile, the guardposts at Bridgeside will be understaffed. We'll deploy the squads to transport the ammo. If everything goes as planned, the Lanes will have the full arsenal by tomorrow night. Then, the real war will begin."

"Blut..."

"Think. You'll have everything. A force. Firepower. Enough to drive Topside out of our streets for good."

Vander's fist clenched and unclenched. His eyes roved the room, the empty stools, the felled glasses, the scattered plans. His shoulders caved inward.

It wasn't surrender. It was a man, bracing himself against a massing storm.

"How could you?" he rasped. "Silco, how could you?"

"There is no other way."

"Sevika... she knows about this?"

"We had a talk."

"A talk," Vander repeated flatly. "Of course. You're her damned messiah now. That girl was always prowlin' for someone to take her old man's place. Someone who'd give her orders. Who'd make her feel strong. I told you not to play games with her. To not lead her on. To not—do this!"

With renewed disgust, Vander shoved him away. Silco swayed but kept his balance. Vander's fingerprints burned around his throat.

"That's why you chose her, isn't it?” Vander went on. “Her gang's the most coordinated in the Lanes. The most ruthless. Our folks respect 'em, but they fear 'em, too. They're perfect for what you've got planned." When Silco stayed silent, he shook his head. "For Janna's sake, Blut. She's barely twenty-two. You were supposed to be her family. Her mentor. Not the person who puts the goddamn matches in her hand!"

Silco snapped. Low-blows made for the deepest cuts.

"You used me first, remember? When I was sixteen and you were twenty-one. You knew I'd do anything for you. You knew I'd follow you to the ends of the earth. You've always known, and still you've never had the guts to do what should be done. So I have. Because someone has to. Someone with a spine, and the balls to take what's theirs."

"Fuckin' hell." Vander's face had changed. The lines carved deep, shadows in the hollows of his cheekbones. He looked both worn to the bone, and blasted open. "All these years. All these years... an' you never let it go. Why couldn't you let it go? Why couldn't you forgive me?"

"Why couldn't you?!"

The air was charged with currents. Silco's body sang. Like a sea-change: skin sloughing off, and something raw and primal birthing itself. Something he'd known was always inside him, and was now in its last throes of transformation. He had no name for it but he knew its shape.

It was a part of him. A monster. Same as Vander's.

"I'm not asking for forgiveness," Silco said softly. "Nor am I giving it. But I am asking you to do what's necessary. For us."

"Us," Vander repeated, the word scraped raw.

"Our city. Because Zaun will die if we don't do this, Vander. So will everyone we love." Silco took a step towards him. Vander shuddered. He felt the tremor. Felt the monster behind it. The two of them: feeding off each other. A decades-long twining of call-and-response. "We can't keep on like this. You. Me. Sevika. Benzo. Lika. We've been fighting our fates since we were children. Now it's time to take the fight to Topside."

"Blut..."

"We can win this. We have the weapons. We have the people. We have the resolve. We just need you."

“Me?”

"You're the Hound of the Underground. Our champion. Because that's not me, Vander. It will never be me. No matter what those scrappers, or Sevika, or you, or anyone says. That's not who I am."

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward (never forget)/xoxo #forward but never forget/xoxo #arcane vander #vander #arcane sevika #sevika #arcane zaun #zaun #vanco #vander x silco #snippet #sevilco #silco x sevika

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comradekatara · 1 month

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If you are in the mood to talk about it, after lok, the comics and the nteflix remake debacle, do you have specific fears/predictions of how the avatar studios movies might fumble the atla characters?

ugh yeah the fact that it's being directed by one of the showrunners of vole tron does not give me any sort of optimistic expectations regarding the potential quality of the upcoming "adult gaang" film. i didn't watch very much of that show, but i saw enough to know that it's really, really bad. and so perhaps if this film were being helmed by writers i even somewhat respected, i would tend towards cautious optimism, but as it stands, i'll be floored if it's even remotely good. moreover, i think that "avatar studios" took the exact wrong lesson away from lok because their attempt to expand the avatar franchise is so misguided to me. i do quite enjoy the kyoshi & yangchen novels, and there are some aspects of korra and a couple of the comics that i also really like, but when it comes to depicting the gaang as adults, i simply do not understand the appeal of that at all. part of the thematic core of atla, for one thing, is the fact that these are children. and seeing the gaang as adults in lok (putting aside the ways in which their characters were utterly butchered) is meant to be incredibly bittersweet. an entire film dedicated to the gaang in their twenties is simply not a good idea, and reads to me as nothing more than an artistically-bereft attempt to capitalize on nostalgia and ride on the coattails of their previous successes. i'd be more amenable to them expanding the franchise through exploring past eras (although not future eras, because clearly they don't know how to do that) or lesser explored yet highly compelling characters in the original show (such as kanna, june, suki and the other kyoshi warriors, etc etc). but a movie about the adult gaang really just seems like a betrayal of what made atla beloved, especially if they must adhere to their lok-based characterization of these characters. i don't want to see toph be a cop, or zuko be a colonial freak, or aang and katara in a monogamous marriage nuclear family, or (buff) sokka being in front-facing positions of power (still far less egregious than toph cop, but that fundamentally misunderstands sokka's role as a "leader" too, like even the more minor decisions are still bad lmao) for 90+ minutes. who wants that. even if by some miracle it isn't actively bad, it would still be fundamentally unnecessary. no thank you.

#elfantasmadejanis #asks #avatar studios crit #i hate it here (under capitalism)

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lorenzobane · 11 months

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The Gourmand

(AN: back on my travel bullshit! Here’s a little ficlet, thanks to @wanderingwriter87 for the prompt- and for taking me to brunch.)

Garak looks around, a performative pout already gracing his face.

“Isn’t this place amazing?” Julian asks, either not noticing or pretending not to notice his companion’s disgruntled face.

“It’s…” Garak pauses and looks around. The restaurant is hardly a typical Cardassian design, yet it is right in the middle of Lakarian City’s central business district.

“And look at the menu!” Julian continues as if Garak hadn’t spoken. “It's not every day you see a human restaurant in the middle of a Cardassian city! I can’t believe I could get us in for their opening brunch.”

“Yes, how did you get a reservation?”

“Turns out one of my patients last month was the chef, who invited me personally. I can’t wait to try it; they’re using all locally sourced ingredients from Cardassia to make some Earth classics. It’s a fascinating ethos; he’s trying to support local Cardassian farmers.”

“Fascinating, Doctor. Can you give me an example?”

“See,” he says, pointing to the extensive menu before him, “this is an Earth classic, an Eggs Benedict. But they’ve used thin-cut Zabu and Vole eggs instead of ham and chicken eggs!”

“Well, I suppose I’ll reserve judgment until the dish is in front of me. But Doctor, I cannot believe you would take me to see my culture so violently denigrated.”

Julian rolls his eyes. “Denigrate? Garak, don’t be absurd. This is a very typical human practice; there are dozens of these types of restaurants throughout the Federation.”

“Oh good,” Garak says with wide eyes and as much false earnestness as he can muster. “I’m so thrilled to hear that Cardassia is just like every other planet in the Federation.”

“Oh, for the love of—“

“Imperialism at its finest,” Garak concluded victoriously.

Julian opens his mouth, then closes it, and his eyes gleam with mischief. “I suppose so; sorry that the Federation is much more effective at it than Cardassia, darling.”

Garak’s jaw drops with indignation, and Julian laughs.

“Now, can you handle looking at the menu?”

Outmaneuvered and aware of it, Garak changes tracks and glances down the menu. His eyes widen at the sheer array of foods he’s grown up eating prepared in ways he never imagined—things in sauces that he never considered would go together. What’s worse is some of it sounds… Good.

“You’re… excited about this, aren’t you?” Julian says, slightly stunned.

“Why would you say that?”

“You never complain this much about things you don’t like; you love to humor me. You’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Oh my god,” Julian crows, “I’m right!”

“Fine, I’ll admit to some idle curiosity.”

“Of course. And that’s why your eyes practically lit up when you saw the ceviche section.”

Garak rolls his eyes. “I thought you wanted me to like this.”

“Oh, I do,” Julian replies. “I’m just allowing myself to feel very smug.”

“Oh dear,” Garak says dryly, “whatever will I do with such an unusual state of affairs?”

Julian smiles at him and reaches across the table, palm up. Garak raises his eyebrows at the sheer exhibitionism but holds his hand back nonetheless.

Garak takes a deep breath and lets it go slowly. The restaurant is loud and busy; the wait staff flit between tables, and soft music plays in the background. Every table seats young couples dressed in the latest fashions from the Alpha quadrant, not just Lakarian city, and he feels…

“Cardassia will never be what I remember, will it?” He says, not quite realizing he said it out loud.

Julian softens, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of Garak’s hand. “Maybe not, but it will never lose what it is either. I think it has a chance to be better than ever.”

Garak allows his eyes to trail over the patterns no Cardassian would have ever used, the foods they would never have made, the people they never would have loved, and thinks that perhaps… Perhaps Cardassia’s best days lay ahead of them yet.

#garashir #st: ds9 #elim garak #julian bashir #my writing

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silkclan · 6 months

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Silkclan

Moon 0

(Genders of cats can change)

Cinnamonstar

He/him

33 moons

Leader

A very wise leader, slow to approach difficult situations.

Much to the dismay of many Silkclan warriors, who would prefer to act on impulse

An avid lore keeper, Cinnamonstar believes in destiny and thanks those who made the clan possible everyday

As cats go he is very religious, though he does not force it upon his clan, he is often times found thanking star clan.

One of the only members of the clan to have spoken with their assigned star clan guide

Cherrybright

She/they

23moons

Deputy

Much like Cinnamonstar she is also very wise, perhaps that is why they were chosen as deputy? Though it’s hard to ignore the wistful glances she and Cinnamonstar share with one another

Cherrybright is quick to resolve conflicts and make peace among her clan, another very admirable quality for Silkclan deputy

Though their patience ways strong, Cherrybright is the opposite of a delicate warrior. Cherrybright’s fighting skills are of the strongest in the clan. You wouldn’t want to get on her bad side. Or for that matter Cinnamonstar’s

Tornshadow

She/her

124 moons

Medicine cat

Though Silkclans medicine cats 124 moons old, she would tell you she’s just as capable as any other cat. And she would be right.

When Tornshadow notices a sparring match start, she is fast to demand to be included, warriors are usually taken a back by their resident elder medicine cat wanting to fight. In the first half they tend to go easy on her, but you will soon learn that is not so affective when you get the wind knocked out of you by one of her seemingly stubby legs.

Tornshadow after, will promptly tell you to be patched up in the medicine den, mind you while she lectures you on everything you did wrong in battle training. Because of this warriors don’t like to spar with her much anymore. But she’ll always look for a way to stretch her legs.

Sense the clan started, she’s formed a very powerful star clan bond. Cinnamonstar often relies in her for decision making because of this, she on the other hand is getting quite peeved. Can’t dead people just leave her alone?

Blissrise

He/they

57 moons

Blissrise is seen by many as righteous, but he thinks they just follow the rules very well!

Some cats dislike him and some heavily enjoy his company

He isn’t very socially aware, often getting wrapped up in clan patrols and chores in favor of others needs. His friends are trying to get him to be more aware.

Blissrise is very clever and quick witted, because his brain moves so fast and constantly, cats think that’s what makes him such a great story teller.

He loves telling story’s, mostly about what he does in a day. He can make any boring task found exciting with merely just his thought process. That’s why so many cats love him and his quirks.

Quillfur

He/him

59 moons

One of Quillfur’s traits is being very strict, many don’t understand he means well when he orders cats around. But because of his background he tends do this from worry.

Quillfur is very secretive with his background, but a few know that he left his mate of many moons to join the clan. She did not agree with moving away despite the rapidly declining living situations.

Where Quillfur came from you needed to be ready to catch anything, to this day he is a very talented hunter. Many warriors are amazed by the giant voles he brings back to camp, just to go back out for another.

Very few can argue with his ability to quickly make a nice den, even out of the most shabby materials.

Timberhiss

She/her

140 moons ( elder )

A very smart old she-cat that’s seen her fare share of odd situations

Though her bones ache she can still remember a time when she could catch mice in the rafters with ease

Timberhiss loves to indulge in a good story, she tells tales of giant two leg dens, thick with cobwebs and overrun with cats. She speaks of it fondly, though others get concerned when her story’s take dark turns. All the while Timberhiss remains nostalgic.

Her favorite past time is enjoying strolls in secluded edges of the territory, occasionally stopping for a bathe in the sun.

Coldkit

She/her

5 moons

As the clan was just starting to form they came across a kit stuck deep in a drain pipe, they almost didn’t notice her there, not making a single sound.

That kit was Coldkit, with much effort by everyone they managed to retrieve the Coldkit by lowering a branch. The whole ordeal left the whole group very exhausted, especially Cherrybright who was the main organizer.

Coldkit, who was very scared but wasn’t so good at reflecting her fear seemed unbothered by the situation to everyone. The clan seeing she couldn’t find her parents, took her in. Cherrybright, put themselves in a lot of peril in order to save her, and never got a “thank you”…Cherrybright has a strong dislike for Coldkit.

Coldkit still remains quiet nearly a moon later, her bright blue eyes can often be found burning into other cats flanks. Almost every cat in the clan is freaked out by this. Except Blissrise, who stares right back.

#clangen #warrior cats #warriors oc #silkart #art #silklore #cinnamonstar #cherrybright #Tornshadow #Blissrise #Timberhiss #coldkit #clangen art #Silkclan #Quilfur

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lemonzests · 15 days

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Some kind of stoat or ferret, perhaps vole

#cornelius hickey #the terror #amc the terror #hickey the terror

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sciatu · 5 months

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CERAMICA SICILIA

Chi jè l’amuri, s’amuri nun è? Picchi l’amuri è vuliri dari pi du santu beni chi tra dui c’è ma c’addiventa quannu poi scumpari?

Quannu l’amuri nostru sinni mori cu iddu si potta u to passatu tu votiti, sduvaculu du cori a vita nun è sulu u lassatu.

a idda ommai, lassala stari u beni i ieri, no fari raggia nun vuliri cuntu, nun ci spiari non fari du passatu na jaggia.

Spiati si ci dasti u giustu si ci dasti u dovutu rispettu: l’amuri non è piaciri o gustu è impegnu, sacrificiu, affettu

Picchì si sulu pigghi ma non dai si ogni cuppa è sulu a soi si a ragiuni sulu tu l’ hai nun è l’amuri chi d’idda tu voi

Voi na criata, chi mai si lagna chi sempri t’avi diri sulu si muta e mansa tu voi na cagna chi mai spia, mai voli un picchì

Voi sulu na fimmina i pezza fatta i rasta e tutta pittata chi mai ridi mai parra o schezza fossi bedda, cu anima stutata

Nuddu ni zigna ad amari nuddu sapi vuliri beni ma na cosa tu t’ha nzignari nun ama cu dugna peni

nun ama cu si fa patruni cu giusta tuttu nzuttannu cu voli sempre ragiuni cu voli fari sulu dannu

L’amuri è semi da giustizzia in nomi soi nun si po' mazzari non si dugna lacrimi e malizia quannu poi ni veni a mancari

Lassa a sciarra o a to ragiuni non ti luddari i mani du so sangu l’amuri mossi? finiu na stagiuni u mali chi senti ti fa liuni.

Cos’è l’amore se amore non è? Perché l’amore è volere dare, per quel santo bene che tra due c’è, ma cosa diventa quando scompare? Quando l’amore nostro se ne muore, con lui si porta il nostro passato, tu voltati, svuotalo dal tuo cuore, la vita non è quello che hai lasciato. A lei ormai lasciala stare, non far diventare il bene di ieri rabbia, non volere spiegazioni, non chiedere, non far diventare il tuo passato una gabbia. Chiediti se le hai dato il giusto, se le hai dato il dovuto rispetto, l’amore non è piacere o gusto, è impegno, sacrificio, affetto. Perché se prendi solo senza dare, se ogni colpa è solo sua, se la ragione ce l’hai solo tu, non è l’amore che vuoi da lei Vuoi una serva che non si lamenta mai, che ti deve dire solo di si, muta e mansueta vuoi una cagna, che non chiede mai, che non vuole mai un perché. Vuoi solo una donna di pezza, fatta di coccio e tutta dipinta, che non ride mai, mai parla o scherza, forse bella, ma con l’anima spenta. Nessuno ci insegna ad amare, nessuno sa voler bene, ma una cosa devi imparare, non ama che dona sole pene. non ama chi si fa padrone, chi aggiusta tutto insultando, chi vole sempre ragione, chi vuol fare solo danno. L’amore è il seme della giustizia, in suo nome non si può ammazzare, non si da lacrime e cattiveria, quando poi ci viene a mancare. Lascia la guerra o la tua ragione, non ti sporcare le mani di sangue: l’amore è morto? È finita una stagione, il male che senti, ti renderà un leone.

What is love if it isn't love? Because love is wanting to give, for that holy good that exists between two, but what does it become when it disappears? When our love dies, it takes our past with it, turn around, empty it from your heart, life is not what you left. Leave her alone now, don't let yesterday's love become anger, don't want explanations, don't ask, don't let your past become a cage. Ask yourself if you gave her the right love, if you gave her due respect, love is not pleasure or taste, it is commitment, sacrifice, affection. Because if you only take without giving, if everything is to blame only her, if only you have the reason, it's not the love you want from her. You want a servant who never complains, who only has to say yes, silent and meek, you want a bitch, who never asks, who never wants a why. You just want a rag woman, made of earthenware and all painted, who never laughs, never speaks or jokes, perhaps beautiful, but with a dull soul. Nobody teaches us to love, nobody knows how to love, but you have to learn one thing, it's not love if you gives only pain. you doesn't love if you make yourselves masters, if you fix everything by insulting, if you always want to be right, if you only want to cause damage. Love is the seed of justice, in its name one cannot kill oneself, one cannot give tears and malice when it then fails in us. Leave the war or your reason, don't get your hands dirty with her blood: is love dead? A season is over, the evil you feel will make you a lion.

#sciatu #sicilia #sicilian #poetry #poesia #art #ceramic

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is-the-owl-video-cute · 2 years

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mx. owl video i need to know do owls have ears and if not can they hear things. i know some of em have the lil spikes on the top of their head that i imagine are ear adjacent but not all of em do. also i hope you have a nice day/night

Other than having huge eyes and being able to turn their head 270° in any direction, owls are probably best known for their incredible sense of hearing. Owls, much like all other known birds do indeed have ears. They’re just under the feathers.

This is an owl ear. That gray-blue lump near the front is actually the back of the owl’s eye, but everything else there is just ear.

Compared to other birds, owls do have rather large ears which are protected by a flap of skin and layers of feathers.

The “spikes” you refer to on top of some of their heads are just feathers, referred to as feather tufts, horns, or plumicorns (meaning “feather horn”) depending on who you ask.

This one has had its feathers messed up somehow, same species as previous to show that they really are just feathers.

Primary function of these tufts of feathers is just to assist in blending in with forest surroundings, a large round owl head stands out less when there’s something to remove that roundness. These feathers are also used in owl body language, particularly when threatening a rival

Overall, yes, owls can hear. They can hear far better than we can. Better than most canines and felines as well.

Owls such as this great gray can only find food in the winter by hearing its beating heart or breathing under a foot of snow while the owl perches several yards above.

The barn owl family has even greater hearing than that, having some of the best auditory skills of any terrestrial animals. Their hearing is so acute that they can hunt in complete darkness, and no, that isn’t something all nocturnal carnivores do. No matter how advanced the eye, if there isn’t even a tiniest hint of light from the moon or stars, an animal can’t see. Nocturnal eyes are large and designed to see by absorbing as much light as possible to see. A completely blind barn owl could still hunt (but would not survive in the wild because it would be unable to avoid crashing into obstacles in flight).

Their secret? Well, it’s just the same adaptation as what other owls use to hear so well taken to the extreme: the facial disk. A mammal like a fox or bat directs sounds into its ears by having a cone-shaped outer ear that can be maneuvered to capture sound from different angles. Owls make their entire face serve that purpose, collecting sound waves by turning their facial feathers into a satellite dish.

Barn owls also have a seamless fringe of feathers down the center of their face which other owls tend to lack, this more or less splits sound waves into traveling down one side of the face to one ear or the other side of the face to the other ear. If the sound hits one ear first or more intensely than it hits the other, the owl knows which way to turn its head.

To add another layer to this, owls have one high ear, and one low ear. The degree of asymmetry varies based on species, the barn owl family has the most pronounced difference in ear placement. Having offset ears allows owls to determine if a sound is coming from above or below.

When an owl hears a sound hit both ears at the exact same time, it knows it’s directly facing the source, and when that source is a mouse or perhaps a vole, it’s go-time.

#owlvid weighs in #Owl ears #ornithology #birds of prey

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multiverseofmisfits · 5 months

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@lawain-dimensional-heroes @musekaiplex

The fight has begun and the crowd anticipated how this will turn out, along with the other matches. Perhaps it shall be the first time the public will witness the fighting prowess of the once-known Hydro Archon.

And such a thought made Furina a little nervous, yet she had to conceal such a fret. Thus, to start, she began with one thing she is good at...

🎶

"Je remue le ciel, le jour, la nuit

Je danse avec le vent, la pluie

Un peu d'amour, un brin de miel

Et je danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse

Et dans le bruit, je cours et j'ai peur

Est-ce mon tour? Vient la douleur

Dans tout Paris, je m'abandonne

Et je m'envole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole..."

Only sung the chorus, the Regina twirled and bowed down to her opponent as a courtesy. Perhaps she also thought that this tournament is also a form of entertainment, thus the entrance song.

"We meet again, Mercedes. I, Furina de Fontaine, shall be your opponent in this duel. I hope that we'll have a good fight." And she held on her sword, ready to fight.

Or so, she tried to believe so.

#lawain dimensional heroes #*** hydro archon of justice *** (furina)#** scripted play ** (rp post)#MFT

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antclan-blogs · 7 months

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MOON 2

Slightstar touches noses with Sunpaw and renames her Sunleopard, honouring her openness. Furledfog found some dock leaves while out on a walk and gave them to Hushstep.

This moon’s story under the cut!

Sunpaw felt as though she might burst with nerves and excitement—as much as she tried to prepare herself for disappointment, she knew in her heart of hearts that she had passed her final assessment with flying colours. Of course she had, with the amount of prey she had caught. Two mice, a vole, and a rabbit, to be precise.

Mossgleam, her mentor, had been speaking quietly with Slightstar ever since Sunpaw had returned to camp. Neither seemed to look grave or angry, but rather neutral—perhaps they were trying not to give anything away.

Daisyiris had offered her a particularly plump mouse earlier to ease her nerves, but Sunpaw knew she couldn’t eat anything that wouldn’t make a reappearance later. Her nerves were at an all time high, though she knew she had passed the assessment. What would her warrior name be? Would it be something cruel? Surely Slightstar wouldn’t do that, even if it was Antclan’s first official naming ceremony.

Sunpaw watched with bated breath as Slightstar nodded, touched noses with Mossgleam and turned to scramble up onto the high rock. The Antclan leader met Sunpaw’s gaze for a second as she settled herself, and gave a calm nod.

All was well.

“May all cats large enough to squash an ant gather around the high rock for a clan meeting!” Slightstar called, using the customary meeting call to signify the moment’s importance. Sunpaw padded hesitantly forward to sit beside Mossgleam, who gazed down at her with pride.

“I have nothing more to teach you, Sunpaw.” They told her happily. “The time has come.”

Sunpaw nodded as the other Antclan cats began to gather around them. Slightstar looked down on her with an unreadable gaze, and Sunpaw felt tiny under the stare of her great leader.

“Today’s meeting is a happy one.” Slightstar began. “Sunpaw has passed her final assessment, and is ready to become a warrior. Mossgleam, do you believe that Sunpaw is ready?”

Sunpaw’s mentor nodded sharply. “I do.” They told their leader solemnly, but the nudge they gave their apprentice told her they were just as excited as she was.

“Then it’s settled.” Slightstar took a deep breath. “I, Slightstar, leader of Antclan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. She has trained hard to understand the ways of your warrior code, and I commend her to you as a warrior in her turn.”

Sunpaw sat upright and tilted her chin upwards with pride. She knew what came next.

“Sunpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your clan, even at the cost of your life?” Slightstar asked, her green gaze burning into Sunpaw’s.

Sunpaw steeled herself against nerves and took a deep breath. “I do.” She mewed loudly. For a moment, Sunpaw could have sworn she saw a flicker of pride in her leader’s eyes.

“Then by the power of Starclan, I grant you your warrior name. Sunpaw, from this moment forth you will be known as Sunleopard. Starclan honours your openness, and welcomes you as a full warrior of Antclan.”

Sunleopard felt as if she could fly. Sunleopard. SUNLEOPARD. The name was perfect, and so was this day. All around her, Sunleopard’s clanmates began chanting her new name and approaching to congratulate her.

Sunleopard, Warrior of Antclan. It had a nice ring to it.

sunleopard yaaaaay! so happy for my bbg! also furledfog has a god complex and is convinced that she’s starclan’s gift to the clan. i’m pretty sure she said “thank me later” when giving the leaves to hushstep

#warrior cats #antclan #clangen #warrior cats art

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themirokai · 1 year

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Let's have a bit of Emotional Support Raven fluff to start off the year, yeah? I combined a few different prompts for this story:

@mashumaru sent me this dapper bird.

@janimoon @altair214 and a sweet anon all sent me this lovely video.

@10moonymhrivertam tagged me on this fantastic post.

Thank you all for the inspiration, I hope you like the result!

“Matthew. Attend me.”

“Oo. Gotta go,” Matthew said to the dream he was chatting with, and sprang into the air. He gained elevation quickly then angled himself toward the palace, where he felt Lord Morpheus’s pull.

Matthew swooped through the ceiling and into the throne room. He landed on the steps and looked up at the dais.

On the throne sat an enormous raven with eyes like the night sky.

Matthew felt his jaw drop. “B-Boss?”

“Matthew.” Lord Morpheus’s voice came from the raven’s mouth.

“You’re a bird?”

“I have, at this time, taken the form of a raven, as you can observe.”

“Oh. Okay.” Matthew tried to think of a more delicate way to ask his next question, but came up short. “Uh. Why?”

“Lucienne has suggested that it would be good for me to take some time away from the library and draw my inspiration elsewhere. Perhaps visit the waking world in a form I do not normally use.”

Ah, that made sense. Lord Morpheus had been spending days in the library lately, looking for inspiration for new dreams and nightmares. Matthew figured he was probably driving Lucienne to distraction.

“So you picked a raven?”

Lord Morpheus shifted from foot to foot. “I thought perhaps that we might visit the Waking together. You could give me a ‘raven’s eye view’ as it were.”

“Sweet! Yeah, I’d love to!”

Lord Morpheus flapped his wings. “Shall we depart then?”

“Sure! Where do you want to go first?”

“I leave that decision to you.”

Matthew tilted his head to the side. “Do you like poetry?”

Matthew cawed as they approached the huge old oak tree. He had learned that it was polite to give a warning before just landing in someone’s tree. Matthew alighted on a branch and paused to catch his breath. He’d had to fly fast to keep up with the beat of Lord Morpheus’s huge wings.

“Crrronkponk?” Matthew called. “Are you home?”

A caw came from another part of the tree and the old raven hopped down from a higher branch.

“Dream Raven!” Crrronkponk cawed happily. “To what do I owe-”

The old raven cut himself off with a gasp as he caught sight of Lord Morpheus and he bowed deeply. “Draumr Konungr!”

Lord Morpheus blinked and cocked his head to the side before speaking. “Hello, Crrronkponk.”

“Crrronkponk, this is my boss,” Matthew said. “But it seems like you’re already acquainted?”

“I have heard tell of the Draumr Konungr from my elders,” Crrronkponk said, keeping his head bowed, “but I never thought to have the honor of encountering him myself! Forgive me, Lord, if I had known you were coming I would have had a great feast prepared! If you don’t mind waiting, I can retrieve some fresh voles!”

“Oh, Boss, have you ever had vole?” Matthew asked. “They’re great!”

“Your offer is most kind, but I prefer not to eat in the waking world. I believe you had intended poetry, Matthew?”

“Yeah, Crrronkponk is the best raven poet I know. Crrronkponk, would you maybe recite something for us?”

Crrronkponk raised his head with wonder in his eyes. “You wish to hear my poetry, Lord?”

Lord Morpheus gave a slow nod. “Please.”

“Oh! My grandchildren’s grandchildren shall hear of this! The honor!”

“That was most enlightening, Crrronkponk, thank you. I particularly liked the interspersing of the car horn sounds with the sound of doors closing.”

“Thank you, my lord! You have an excellent ear. I am quite proud of that section.” Crrronkponk bowed deeply.

“I do not frequently travel the waking world in this form,” Lord Morpheus said, “but perhaps Matthew can bring you to me sometime when you are in the Dreaming. I believe I would enjoy hearing more of your poetry.”

“Oh, Draumr Konungr, it would be my immense honor! I will compose a new piece for the occasion! It will be my very finest work!”

Lord Morpheus inclined his head. “I look forward to it.” He turned to Matthew. “Shall we?”

“Sure, Boss. Thanks, Crrronkponk!”

“Thank you, Dream Raven!”

With that Matthew leapt from the branch and Lord Morpheus followed.

“You made him really happy, you know,” Matthew said when they were out of earshot. “Thanks.”

“There is nothing to thank me for, Matthew. You were correct that he is a gifted poet.”

They flew in silence for a moment before Lord Morpheus spoke again. “Where are we going now?”

“Have you ever tried snow bathing?”

“Snow bathing? No, I have not.”

“It’s the best!” Matthew enthused. “You’ll love it, I promise. We’ll just cut through the Dreaming to get to a good spot.”

They landed in an open field covered with a few inches of snow and more falling.

“And what does ‘snow bathing’ entail, Matthew?” Lord Morpheus asked.

“You just do this!”

Matthew flopped onto his side and began rolling around in the snow. Once he had a good coating on his feathers, he looked up to see that Lord Morpheus had not followed suit.

“Come on, Boss.”

Lord Morpheus tipped his head to the side. “I am not generally given to writhing on the ground, Matthew.”

“Yeah, but you wanted a ‘raven’s eye view’, right?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“This will feel awesome on your beak and your feathers, I’m telling you. You’ll be able to make a great dream out of it!”

Lord Morpheus tentatively ran his wing through the snow.

“No, Boss, you’ve gotta get your face in there. If the body you’re wearing is a raven body, I promise you will like it.”

Lord Morpheus gave an aggrieved sigh and gingerly lay down in the snow. Matthew rolled around some more to demonstrate. Finally, Lord Morpheus dipped the side of his head and neck into the snow.

“Hm.”

Matthew thought that “hm” might be pleasantly surprised.

Lord Morpheus rubbed his head and neck into the snow more enthusiastically, then flopped onto his side as Matthew had done and began rolling around.

Matthew lamented his inability to grin.

“HRR HRR HRR.”

I guess a raven body didn’t do anything for the laugh, Matthew thought before joining Lord Morpheus in basking in the snow.

When they had both been thoroughly doused, Matthew and Lord Morpheus ended up beside each other, laying on their backs, watching the snow fall.

Matthew felt something touch his foot, and looked up to see Lord Morpheus’s enormous talon grasping his own.

“Thank you for today, Matthew,” Lord Morpheus said.

“My pleasure, Boss. Seriously. You make a pretty good raven.”

“HRR HRR HRR.”

Matthew loved the guy but there had to be something they could do about that laugh.

Check out this fantastic art of the raven poetry recitation!

Thanks for reading! The name "draumr konungr" came in part from this post and based on the translation website I used, I think it means "dream king" in Old Norse.

My Master Post for the Emotional Support Raven Series is here and most of the stories are up on AO3.

#matthew the emotional support raven #matthew the raven #dream of the endless #lord morpheus #mirokai writes #miro does sandman #the sandman #the sandman netflix #I spent a lot of time writing and tweaking Loverboy #and for this I wanted to do something quicker and less refined #just some good ol' fashioned domestic fluff #they take a field trip

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nightcrawlerzincorporated · 6 months

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what do you think a nightcrawler is ??

I always imagined the night crawlers are some kind of wriggly bug or worm 🐛🪱 It seems like the game involves foraging for minerals and treasures, which feels like bugs digging through the soil to me!

Schmitty has the idea of using force fields and Charlie mentions magic stirring so I’d like to think they’re bugs with funky little powers they can use against each other/their enemies 🐞🪄

But as a counterpoint Frank howls when he “transforms” into a night crawler so they could be little mammally guys as well, perhaps voles or moles, maybe even foxtype guys 🦊. Definitely a dirty little digging animal 🐾

#iasip #night crawlers #ask #anonymous

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splashspeck · 7 months

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Hello yes, I am bored at work and ended up writing a quick draft of a Clan Kingdoms AU fiction. The start of the Blackfoor/Tawnypelt arranged marriage idea @troutfur helped me figure out.

This is definitely an early draft but, I wanted to share a little of the atmosphere I'm hoping to create.

Also sorry about the format I'm posting on mobile lol

"Blackfoot?" The tom fought back a sigh as he heard a hesitant voice call for him. He'd been about to pluck one of the few frogs they'd managed to get onto the Tigerclan prey pile, but the duty of a deputy was never over it would seem. He carefully brought his expression to neutral and turned to the cat, Cedarpaw. Darkflower's son, a scrawny thing, though Russetfur had been working hard to put some muscle onto the little tom.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to bother you sir, but… Tigerstar requested you in his den." The apprentice looked shaken, and Blackfoot knew well that their leader had a way of terrorizing cats with only a word, and could only imagine what the young tom had seen or heard to unsettle him.

"Message received, we'll done Cedarpaw." He meowed, seeing the younger Tom's ears perk up. "I take it Tigerstar hasn't taken his evening prey yet?" The dark gray apprentice shook his head, so Blackfoot grabbed his frog as well as a chubby vole one of the Riverclanners had managed to snag. "Once your duties are done, get some prey and rest. Russetfur will drive you hard tomorrow." He meowed around his burden, earning a nod from the apprentice before striding across Tigerclan's camp. The newer dens were still shoddy, and he made note to get some of the den builders on task tomorrow. Perhaps he'd assign Russetfur and Cedarpaw to that as well. The Tom could use the muscle and Russetfur was a taskmaster of little compare.

The leaders' den was one of the few dens of solid build, though it was still soggy from the recent rain when Blackfoot slid past the reeds sheltering Tigerstar and Leopardfur's inner sanctum.

"Tigerstar, apologies for the delay, I figured you hadn't eaten yet." He explained, setting the vole at the tabby's paws. Amber eyes studied him a bit longer than he liked, and Blackfoot noted the addition of the leader's daughter, Tawnypaw, in the den. He'd kept the young Molly close since she'd joined Tigerclan with them, and Blackfoot had been impressed with how well she'd adapted to the new way of life.

"Thank you, Blackfoot, the gesture is appreciated." Tigerstar's voice cut into Blackfoot's thoughts, and he nodded, carefully keeping his own prey set aside. "I'm sure you have questions about the purpose of this meeting." The dark tabby meowed, his tail swaying lazily in a way that put Blackfoot further on edge. He felt like prey being sized up for a hunt. "It is little surprise that our clan is still suffering the effects of previous leadership mistakes and misfortune. Tigerclan, and even Shadowclan within that, is in need of some positive news for the future, as well as some added security to ensure we are never in that position again." Blackfoot nodded obediently as Tigerstar glanced at his daughter, sitting stiffly at his side. "I have a task that I can only entrust to you two, to ensure our position in the clan and our success for the future."

Blackfoot's heart dropped and started to pound.

"Sir?" He spoke cautiously, more than a little afraid of what was to come.

"Tigerclan is to celebrate tomorrow, a feast like those Shadowclan holds for the royal betrothal. I have not seen one, but my mother told me of them. I would want nothing less for my daughter's betrothal." Blackfoot looked to Tawnypaw then, the tortoiseshell molly’s eyes were carefully focused on the ground, and a small scratch was visible on her cheek. Stars she hadn’t even completed her fourth season, Badgerfang would have been older than her had he survived.

“I’ll ensure the patrols start hunting so we may celebrate as is worthy of such a grand announcement.” Blackfoot answered, only a moment too late. “Who is the tom so honored by this betrothal?” He looked back at Tigerstar then, and saw his fangs glint in the fading light when he gave a mocking grin.

“Oh Blackfoot, don’t be so bashful.” He purred, standing to pace around the den. “I would align our families, cement for Shadowclan that the line of Tigerstar and the line of Hollyflower are one in our goals to make the best future for Shadowclan. To Ensure that we are never without an heir to the leadership again, and no more mistakes like Nightpelt’s Regency can occur.” He swept past Blackfoot then, weaving around his daughter and tapping her chin with his tail in a not-so-subtle order to raise her head. Green eyes normally so full of determination had gone dull, and Blackfoot knew the feeling of defeat she tried to cover with stony resignation. “And you couldn’t ask for a better Mate. Right, Tawny?” She nodded, still not meeting Blackfoot’s eyes. Blackfoot himself stood stiff, even his tail was held still, as though moving would make this nightmare come reality any more real.

“I… am honored at being considered, Tigerstar, truly.” Blackfoot finally spoke, and he knew his shock wasn’t covered at all by the smirk on Tigerstar’s muzzle. “But… wouldn’t you want to match her with a cat more befitting her position? I am a third child, disgraced from my own bloodline-”

“A bloodline that holds no command anymore.” Tigerstar scoffed. “You are the survivor. You followed your Stars Ordained Leaders and lived, your littermates chose to follow a regent the Stars did not recognize, and they were victims on the punishment levied against the clan for this. As to my daughter’s position, I would not pair my daughter to a half-clan bastard, or the child of one of those creatures, nor would I have my bloodline muddied with one of Tallstar’s cowards or the followers of a kittypet usurper. No, this ensures her, and our, place in the clans. Besides,” Amber eyes locked onto yellow and Blackfoot fought to maintain eye contact with his leader. “I would keep my kin close, to ensure my bloodline continues.” He strode towards his nest, grabbing the fat vole as he swept past Tawnypaw. “You two should start to get to know one another, walk her to her den, Blackfoot.”

“Yes, sir.” Blackfoot answered, stepping aside and grabbing the frog from the floor, though his stomach now roiled in discomfort. “Ma’am.” He mewed as Tawnypaw padded through the reeds, following at a slow pace. The silence was thick, tense with discomfort, and Blackfoot thanked the Stars that he rest of the clan had already retired to their dens. As the apprentice’s den crept closer he stopped, catching Tawnypaw off guard and dipping his head.

“I’m sorry, Tawnypaw. I’m sure this is not the match you would have hoped for.” He meowed, keeping his eyes low. “I hope not to disappoint you further.” He set the frog at her paws, and carefully touched his nose to her head, between her ears, before turning and padding towards the camp entrance. A glance from the corner of his eye showed the young molly take the prey and slip into the den, likely to concerned denmates. He knew Cedarpaw and Rowanpaw had taken to her, and Dawnpaw was warming to her newer denmates.

As he approached the camp edges he gave a brief nod to Boulder, taking up the second guard post without a word.

He wouldn’t sleep that night. Not without the image of his sister, his nephew, his brother and his mother haunting him. Without the sick guilt twisting in his gut like an adder as he thought about the not-even-warrior mate he’d be forced to take.

#warriors au #clan kingdoms au #blackstar #blackfoot #tigerstar #tawnypelt #tw: arranged marriage #tw: child abuse #just in case

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