#Grace's Warbler

[proton-wobbler]

Warbler Showdown pt 2; Bracket 1, Poll 5

Well, these two got mashed together since they were both the odd-bird-out in their brackets. Let's see who prevails!

Grace's Warbler (Setophaga graciae)

IUCN Rating: Least Concern

Range: western Americas, from Colorado to California in the USA, down through Mexico and into Nicaragua

Habitat: pine-oak forests across most of the range, sometimes in pine savanna in southern regions.

Subspecies: 4

Arrowhead Warbler (Setophaga pharetra)

IUCN Rating: Least Concern

Range: Jamaica

Habitat: humid, montaine forests, though they can be found in lowland humid forests outside of the breeding season.

Subspecies: none

Image Sources: GRWA (Michael Stremciuc); ARWA (Kevin Berkoff)

[thekog]

Got the rest of my Southeast Arizona Birding Festival photos uploaded, and it's not all hummingbirds either! Behold, a Grace's warbler!

[minmos]

warbler id is so fucked. these are all different guys

(in order: yellow warbler, hooded warbler, wilson's warbler, mourning warbler, nashville warbler, connecticut warbler)

but at the end of the day Theyre all sweet and awesome and they eat sooo many bugs everyday with precision and grace

[wereallydobevibing]

Oh, to Find Love in Russia | Konig x Reader

I used to post my stories on tiktok under the username @codlover but I figured since tiktok might get banned I should delete that account and post it here. Here’s one of the stories.

Feel free to use my work as a prompt/inspiration. Better yet, feel free to write your own ideal part 2 just MAKE SURE YOU CREDIT AND TAG ME.

WARNINGS: Mentions of injury, specifically written for my delulu girlies💕

The ice, cold air of a wintery Russia rushed through your body like death through Pompeii. With your lips an ungodly shade of purple and your fingers feeling so stupidly numb, you follow the public map displayed on the side of the nearest building to meet a short term comrade in a common tourist area.

It took you some time, having never been to Russia before, but you eventually find yourself walking alongside a very large man who names himself König. He leads you away from the tourist path and into a market area where you both enter a less than busy bar. You agree you’ll talk here, where it was warm and your shivering didn’t hinder your ability to speak.

The next two hours was a conversation of confirming your roles here and the goals that were set to be accomplished – you both were sent to gain intel, but König’s main focus was to serve as your armor, and gaining intel was especially assigned to you, dear reader.

You were not a special forces operator because you were big and strong, or because you had a particular set of skills pertaining to combat at all. Your task-force had elected you to become one of it’s soldiers because you were a holder of intelligence – you were the brain, and everyone else was the body.

Your skills lied in your ability to speak and understand a multitude of languages. Your looks and personality made you attractive to others both romantically or otherwise – people couldn’t help but make themselves known to you. You were good at making them feel so special that it hurt too much to not spill all their flavors into your cup.

Blackbird, they called you; a symbol of beauty and intelligence. You were your team’s little warbler – whatever they needed to know, you were sent to find out, and you always came back chirping your sweet song of intel.

König was quite taken by you from the very start – he’d never met a woman in his field that carried herself with such grace. Overtime, many women in special forces became much like their male colleagues; rough around the edges, heavily drinking and/or smoking, cursing like wounded sailors.

You? You were so clean. Not a single profanity fell from your glossed lips, your voice was smoother than the finest of silk velvets. Your eyes are still warm with the hope of a better world and twinkled with the gentle promise of eternal youth.

Granted, you were still rather fresh in age being in your early 20s. Still, you were special.

As you both got familiar with each other over the next few hours, König grew firmer in his belief that the radiance of your skin was actually your golden soul shining through your pores.

The safe house you’d both been given had been put together at the last minute. A fact that was clear by how it was a small cabin with only a couch in the living room and one bed in the bedroom, certainly not prepared for two. The kitchen was stocked with little snacks and such, but if either of you ever got the taste for a real meal, you’d have to eat out or go grocery shopping.

König was quick to offer you the only room, as you were a lady deserving of privacy.

Over the course of two weeks, you took turns cooking and choosing restaurants. But by week three, you’d become so focused on your task of manipulating a Captain in the Russian anti-group that you’d end up spending every free moment of your day at the desk, documenting the day’s occurrences and future strategies. König became responsible for making sure you both ate – it seemed that if he didn’t feed you, you’d simply forget to do it yourself and starve.

Week four was when the storm arrived, the great finale that signaled the nearing end of every mission – Blackbird had collected everything she needed and was ready to fly on home and feed her findings to her kin. Things were wrapping up and, naturally, that meant shit was going down.

The final day would end with König wounded – he fought well, your knight in shining armor. Of course he won, but he was losing blood from his abdomen and you knew he was in pain.

The jet that was assigned to pick you both up would not arrive until morning. Your due date was not until two days from now, but you’d finished early. Until then, you used what you had to stop the bleeding and make him comfortable.

You leave him on the bed that you’d been sleeping in for the last five weeks, flat on his back. If not for the pain of his stab wound, he might’ve enjoyed drowning in the lingering, feminine scent of shampoo and perfume stuck to the sheets and pillows you burrowed yourself in at night.

You bandage him with delicate fingers – such a stark difference compared to the medics back at the KorTac base. They were always so rough, like hornets pricking and prodding at his body.

He doesn’t notice how your focus was divided between his wound and his bare chest. Your impulsive thoughts, if you gave in to them, would’ve had you resting the palms of your hands flat on his muscles and grazing your fingertips over the ridges.

You tried to be respectful, the man was in pain – but you just couldn’t help your nature as it demanded to behold the glorious sculpture settled before you. Thousands of years ago, König might’ve been the model for ancient Greek statues. He was beautiful.

König sits up on the mattress when you finish, which now is stained with speckles of blood, clenching his jaw as he did. Your hands come up on his bare chest and you stop him.

“What are you doing?” You ask, bewildered, “You have to rest, König, you’re hurt.”

“This is your bed, schatz,” König grunted, “I will go to the couch.”

Now that the mission is over, you suddenly feel a wave of guilt come crashing down onto you. You’d been so busy thinking about what you needed to do, how you were going to get your hands on the information you’d been sent out to receive that you didn’t ever stop to think about König’s comfort. And here he was, spending every single day of the last five weeks watching your back, making sure you ate, and that you were comfortable. All he did was think about you.

As you stare at him, your heart begins pulsing erratically. Your face grows warm with the sudden realization that this big, brutal, soldier of a man was such a gentleman. He’d been so kind and considerate, looking over your shoulder for you like he was born to do it and not just because it was his job.

Your hands raise to cradle his masked face. You think about how this six-foot-ten beast had been sleeping on that tiny, poor excuse for a couch for nearly two months for the sake of your comfortability, and how he would do it even now when he was in pain.

Without a second thought, you go in and kiss him through the fabric of his mask – a little peck of admiration for his chivalry, a humble praise for being a rare man.

König stares at you when you pull back, he’s stunned. All these weeks of very subtly flirting with you … he thought you’d never notice, or even reciprocate his interest. König figured that you both would separate at the end of this story like Orpheus and Eurydice, he’d be damned to never know you again and you’d forget him as soon as he was gone.

With your hands still holding either side if his jaw, you tell him, “Lay down, König. Here.”

He brings up a large hand to meet one of yours, using the other to hold himself upright and stroking your wrist affectionately with his thumb, “You will not sleep on the couch, schatz.”

“No,” You agreed. “We will both stay here, on the bed, and that way if you need anything, I’m right here to help you.”

Still not believing what’s happening, he tries again to rise from the bed, only for you to guide him back down until his head rested on one of the pillows.

You ask, “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

König, beneath his mask, feels his lips curling upward as he laughs breathlessly.

He grins, “Okay?”

It was perfect.

[jewelsli]

Dc Wing AU (incomplete)

So a while ago I read this fanfic where the Batfam had wings based off of what people thought about them, and since then I’ve been obsessing over what wing types multiple characters would have(not just in DC). Idk if anyone really cares but I’m still posting it here since there has to be someone with the same weird interests as me.

First up, the Batfam:

For Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian it’s the same as the fic I read(I’ll link it at the end).

Bruce was a Snowy owl (protection, new beginnings, change, purity, innocence), Dick was a Blue Jay (Loyalty, communication, joy, adaptability, protection), Jason as a Red-Winged blackbird (good luck, abundance, prosperity, protection, danger ahead), Tim as a Northern Cardinal (vitality, family stability, renewal, strength, the passing of a loved one), and Damian as a Scarlet Macaw (guardians, healing, good fortune, maturity, growth, foresight).

After reading the fic I then did some research and figured out what wings the rest of the Batfam would have(not completed yet, there are to many of them)

Cassandra: Black-winged snow finch- a lower classification of a sparrow(protection, hope, joy, loyalty, renewal)

Stephanie: Purple Martin- members of the swallow family(hope, love, renewal, loyalty, family, freedom, good fortune, transformation, protection, success or failure in life)

Barbara: Blackpoll Warbler (resilience, flexibility, overcoming challenges with grace and perseverance)

Duke: Eastern Bluebird(hope, positivity, love, and associated with joy, happiness, and harmony)

Alfred: Demoiselle Crane (good fortune, longevity, love, happiness, honor, loyalty)

Selina: Gray Catbird (adaptability, resourcefulness, mystery, good luck, harmony)

Fic link:

[tusk-rumours]

eurydice!reader / songbird!reader

The first thought Sam thought when he saw them for the first time was that they were so graceful. They reminded him so strongly of a bird. Colourful and captivating, a wonder of nature. And when they spoke, their voice hit his ears like some beautiful melody unheard to him before. They quickly became his muse, the ghost lingering in the awestruck writings in his journal. They’d giggled the first time he called them that. Cetti. His songbird.

this is for my as long as you follow fic! intro post here | orpheus!sam/poet!sam

also the nickname comes from the songbird the cetti warbler.

[lesmisletters-daily]

Four And Four

Les Mis Letters reading club explores one chapter of Les Misérables every day. Join us on Discord, Substack - or share your thoughts right here on tumblr - today's tag is #lm 1.3.3

It is hard nowadays to picture to one’s self what a pleasure-trip of students and grisettes to the country was like, forty-five years ago. The suburbs of Paris are no longer the same; the physiognomy of what may be called circumparisian life has changed completely in the last half-century; where there was the cuckoo, there is the railway car; where there was a tender-boat, there is now the steamboat; people speak of Fécamp nowadays as they spoke of Saint-Cloud in those days. The Paris of 1862 is a city which has France for its outskirts.

The four couples conscientiously went through with all the country follies possible at that time. The vacation was beginning, and it was a warm, bright, summer day. On the preceding day, Favourite, the only one who knew how to write, had written the following to Tholomyès in the name of the four: “It is a good hour to emerge from happiness.” That is why they rose at five o’clock in the morning. Then they went to Saint-Cloud by the coach, looked at the dry cascade and exclaimed, “This must be very beautiful when there is water!” They breakfasted at the <i>Tête-Noir</i>, where Castaing had not yet been; they treated themselves to a game of ring-throwing under the quincunx of trees of the grand fountain; they ascended Diogenes’ lantern, they gambled for macaroons at the roulette establishment of the Pont de Sèvres, picked bouquets at Pateaux, bought reed-pipes at Neuilly, ate apple tarts everywhere, and were perfectly happy.

The young girls rustled and chatted like warblers escaped from their cage. It was a perfect delirium. From time to time they bestowed little taps on the young men. Matutinal intoxication of life! adorable years! the wings of the dragonfly quiver. Oh, whoever you may be, do you not remember? Have you rambled through the brushwood, holding aside the branches, on account of the charming head which is coming on behind you? Have you slid, laughing, down a slope all wet with rain, with a beloved woman holding your hand, and crying, “Ah, my new boots! what a state they are in!”

Let us say at once that that merry obstacle, a shower, was lacking in the case of this good-humored party, although Favourite had said as they set out, with a magisterial and maternal tone, <i>“The slugs are crawling in the paths,—a sign of rain, children.”</i>

All four were madly pretty. A good old classic poet, then famous, a good fellow who had an Éléonore, M. le Chevalier de Labouisse, as he strolled that day beneath the chestnut-trees of Saint-Cloud, saw them pass about ten o’clock in the morning, and exclaimed, “There is one too many of them,” as he thought of the Graces. Favourite, Blachevelle’s friend, the one aged three and twenty, the old one, ran on in front under the great green boughs, jumped the ditches, stalked distractedly over bushes, and presided over this merry-making with the spirit of a young female faun. Zéphine and Dahlia, whom chance had made beautiful in such a way that they set each off when they were together, and completed each other, never left each other, more from an instinct of coquetry than from friendship, and clinging to each other, they assumed English poses; the first <i>keepsakes</i> had just made their appearance, melancholy was dawning for women, as later on, Byronism dawned for men; and the hair of the tender sex began to droop dolefully. Zéphine and Dahlia had their hair dressed in rolls. Listolier and Fameuil, who were engaged in discussing their professors, explained to Fantine the difference that existed between M. Delvincourt and M. Blondeau.

Blachevelle seemed to have been created expressly to carry Favourite’s single-bordered, imitation India shawl of Ternaux’s manufacture, on his arm on Sundays.

Tholomyès followed, dominating the group. He was very gay, but one felt the force of government in him; there was dictation in his joviality; his principal ornament was a pair of trousers of elephant-leg pattern of nankeen, with straps of braided copper wire; he carried a stout rattan worth two hundred francs in his hand, and, as he treated himself to everything, a strange thing called a cigar in his mouth. Nothing was sacred to him; he smoked.

“That Tholomyès is astounding!” said the others, with veneration. “What trousers! What energy!”

As for Fantine, she was a joy to behold. Her splendid teeth had evidently received an office from God,—laughter. She preferred to carry her little hat of sewed straw, with its long white strings, in her hand rather than on her head. Her thick blond hair, which was inclined to wave, and which easily uncoiled, and which it was necessary to fasten up incessantly, seemed made for the flight of Galatea under the willows. Her rosy lips babbled enchantingly. The corners of her mouth voluptuously turned up, as in the antique masks of Erigone, had an air of encouraging the audacious; but her long, shadowy lashes drooped discreetly over the jollity of the lower part of the face as though to call a halt. There was something indescribably harmonious and striking about her entire dress. She wore a gown of mauve barège, little reddish brown buskins, whose ribbons traced an X on her fine, white, open-worked stockings, and that sort of muslin spencer, a Marseilles invention, whose name, <i>canezou</i>, a corruption of the words <i>quinze août</i>, pronounced after the fashion of the Canebière, signifies fine weather, heat, and midday. The three others, less timid, as we have already said, wore low-necked dresses without disguise, which in summer, beneath flower-adorned hats, are very graceful and enticing; but by the side of these audacious outfits, blond Fantine’s <i>canezou</i>, with its transparencies, its indiscretion, and its reticence, concealing and displaying at one and the same time, seemed an alluring godsend of decency, and the famous Court of Love, presided over by the Vicomtesse de Cette, with the sea-green eyes, would, perhaps, have awarded the prize for coquetry to this <i>canezou</i>, in the contest for the prize of modesty. The most ingenious is, at times, the wisest. This does happen.

Brilliant of face, delicate of profile, with eyes of a deep blue, heavy lids, feet arched and small, wrists and ankles admirably formed, a white skin which, here and there allowed the azure branching of the veins to be seen, joy, a cheek that was young and fresh, the robust throat of the Juno of Ægina, a strong and supple nape of the neck, shoulders modelled as though by Coustou, with a voluptuous dimple in the middle, visible through the muslin; a gayety cooled by dreaminess; sculptural and exquisite—such was Fantine; and beneath these feminine adornments and these ribbons one could divine a statue, and in that statue a soul.

Fantine was beautiful, without being too conscious of it. Those rare dreamers, mysterious priests of the beautiful who silently confront everything with perfection, would have caught a glimpse in this little working-woman, through the transparency of her Parisian grace, of the ancient sacred euphony. This daughter of the shadows was thoroughbred. She was beautiful in the two ways—style and rhythm. Style is the form of the ideal; rhythm is its movement.

We have said that Fantine was joy; she was also modesty.

To an observer who studied her attentively, that which breathed from her athwart all the intoxication of her age, the season, and her love affair, was an invincible expression of reserve and modesty. She remained a little astonished. This chaste astonishment is the shade of difference which separates Psyche from Venus. Fantine had the long, white, fine fingers of the vestal virgin who stirs the ashes of the sacred fire with a golden pin. Although she would have refused nothing to Tholomyès, as we shall have more than ample opportunity to see, her face in repose was supremely virginal; a sort of serious and almost austere dignity suddenly overwhelmed her at certain times, and there was nothing more singular and disturbing than to see gayety become so suddenly extinct there, and meditation succeed to cheerfulness without any transition state. This sudden and sometimes severely accentuated gravity resembled the disdain of a goddess. Her brow, her nose, her chin, presented that equilibrium of outline which is quite distinct from equilibrium of proportion, and from which harmony of countenance results; in the very characteristic interval which separates the base of the nose from the upper lip, she had that imperceptible and charming fold, a mysterious sign of chastity, which makes Barberousse fall in love with a Diana found in the treasures of Iconia.

Love is a fault; so be it. Fantine was innocence floating high over fault.

[lya-dustin]

The Moon Lives in the Lining of Your Skin

chapter 4

Gil-galad x OC(Erinti of the Mair)

They are Lady Athaenis of Nan-Tathren here.

That is what the human village called her and some of the elves here had remembered that.

They could not be Lothíriel here, it does not feel like a name Erinti feels like letting other people use yet.

And then there is her hurt at having been lied to.

It tainted her joy at meeting Dior’s daughter and her babies, and she could not wait until he left to the Isle of Balar. Erinti avoids him and spends as much time as she can catching up with old friends from Doriath and getting to know Elwing.

And she adores her great-niece even if she has only known her for ten days. How could she not? Elwing was her blood the moment the One made Melian Erinti’s elder sister in his music.

“What was my father like as an elfling?” Elwing asked as Erinti played with the twin boys.

Twins were treated like treasures, almost all of them suffered terrible fates. Sometimes the mother would not survive the birth, sometimes the mother would see her children die or the children see their mother die. These boys would not be the exception.

One will die a mortal death and the other will have to see it happen.

“Dior was a good child, even if he loathed my vegetable soups. Grew like a weed after spring rain, one moment he was bouncing baby boy like these two and the other he was a man grown and wanted me to meet his pregnant wife, Nimloth Galathiel.”

Erinti answered her question as she played with Elros. He would die as a human, a human with exceptionally long life, but still sundered forever from his family in Valinor.

A sad thing, but ,alas, they cannot change the Music.

“Yes, we grow at the pace of the Edain, but age at the pace of the Eldar when we reach our twentieth begetting day. My boys will grow at that pace too, I fear they will be unrecognizable when Eärendil comes back from his voyage.” Elwing looks out the window sadly.

The boys are toddlers, they can walk and run now. Elrond and Elros’ babbles were turning into words, they were nearly three in human years.

She cannot bear to be apart from her husband, so afraid of being alone again.

“He will return, and the Valar will come to our aid before it is too late.” Erinti assured her. “It is in the Music, I am sure of it.”

Eärendil would leave in search of the Undying Lands, a last resort because things are so dire.

Almost all of Beleriand was under Mogroth’s control, the Sons of Fëanor flailing as they tried to overcome their cursed oath.

The tree is swaying and there is no way of telling when and how it would fall.

If there was a way for the oath to be broken and for them to receive aid, they needed the best mariners for the quest.

And that was Eärendil son of Idril.

“I could stay with you until he returns.” Erinti suggests. “Help you with the children and keep you company.”

“I would like it very much, if it’s not an inconvenience to Gil-galad, that is. He may be loath to part with you.” Elwing said as if they were something.

They were friends at the least, soulmates at the most.

But a soulmate does not mean it will be smooth sailing, even Melian and Thingol had their quarrels and she’s heard from the birds that one-time Manwë and Varda quarreled. It had been about reintegrating Melkor back into society, the warbler had said. Even Elwing and Earendil have been angry at each other, like now that Elwing has been completely honest with her husband about her thoughts on this quest to find the Valar.

Things were odd between Erinti and Gil-galad now.

Erinti felt hurt that he had lied to her. A lie by omission is still a lie in their book, and she just needs time. Maybe the Maia will forgive him for it, but it will not be today. More than just a day and a night to think about it.

“If he misses me, he will visit or we could visit the Isle of Balar, but I am sure his grace will understand.” Just like he expected to her to understand him lying about his identity for almost two weeks. “Besides, the Isle of Balar is not that far.”

“No, but it feels like it is sometimes.” Elwing said unable to shake off a sudden chill she felt as she looked at the Nauglamír hidden under the floorboards of the nursery.

The gardens here are beautiful, but nothing compares to the wild beauty of Arda.They like it here, here where she can lay on the grass like an enchanted maiden as the night turns to morning. There was another fine banquet this day, Erinti has not consumed so much mortal food since Menegroth and, frankly, they were no longer used to eating this often.

“You have been avoiding me.” Gil-Galad comes and lies down beside her.

“So, I have.” They admit and refuses to even look at him.

“I did plan on telling you who I was, just so you know.” He turns to see her even if she just stares into the heavens hoping for an answer to be spelled out to her.

Are the star people laughing at her childishness, they always had the feeling that the more powerful maiar viewed her as nuisance. Erinti was part of the same thought Eru Iluvatar used to create Eonwe and Ilmare, and yet Erinti was the weakest of their kind.

So weak that their original corporal form was a child, like the little children Erinti had been so fascinated by when Iluvatar revealed them in the Music. Perhaps that was why she liked children most of all, perhaps that’s why the One gave her the privilege to eventually grow and mature into an adult.

“I know, but it stung my feelings to know you did not trust me enough to be honest, Rodnor.” She likes this, the honesty with which they talk to each other. They enjoy Rodner’s company and if it is in the Music, Erinti would like to spend the rest of it with him.

“I was afraid you would see me differently, that you would think of me as the King of the Noldor and not Rodnor Gil-Galad.” He admits quietly, as if he was afraid people would know how much he enjoyed being a nobody for even a little while.

Uneasy is the head that wears the crown, Erinti now understood what Thingol meant by that. He can never show weakness, he can never let himself be who he is now that the Noldor chose him as their ruler.

“I would not have treated you any differently.” This time she allows herself to move her head and look at him.

He was beautiful, like all the Eldar are, but there was that indescribable thing that pulled her to him, that made him appear to be everything she ever wanted or could ever want.

“I am sorry I lied to you, Lothíriel. Will you forgive me?” Rodnor reached out for their hand on their stomach and Erinti did not flinch away.

“I do forgive you, but I am afraid I will not go with you to the Isle of Balar.” It is very difficult to say that when he is looking at her like that.

It makes her want to say she did not mean it and that she will leave with him and continue their courtship in person. But Elwing needs them here and Erinti needs time to adjust to society. It had changed so much in this past century; it was almost unrecognizable from when Erinti was a courtier in Menegroth.

 “Elwing has need of me, Rodnor. She will be so lonely without Eärendil, and I want to get to know her better.” Erinti explained turning to lean on her side.

Love is so strange; they have spent all this time alone and now that she really liked someone enough to let themselves be courted, Erinti must be apart from him. She doesn’t want to cause the beautiful elf king any pain, and yet she must cause some if they want to spend what little time Elwing has left in her song with her.

“It will make our courtship difficult, Lothíriel.” He reaches out with his free hand to caress the side of her face and she leans into it hoping she could make the warmth and tenderness stay with her forever.

“But not impossible, once I master the new words and writing styles, I will be sending you letters longer than the Anduin.” Erinti tries to make him smile, make him laugh like he did in Nan-Tathren.

If Erinti were given a choice they would have stayed there for the rest of eternity, and she had a feeling Gil-Galad was thinking the same.

He then says the last thing they had expected.

“I love you, and I want to marry you. What is your will?” Gil-Galad asks her and begins the with the official words of a courtship. Typically, this was done at a feast with your family and friends, yet here, whispered as they lay together in a dark garden, the words feel as if they were never meant to be heard by anyone else.

“We have no silver rings, Rodnor.” Erinti finds herself saying in response to his words.

“Melian and Thingol never had them, who says we need them?” Rodnor brushed a stray curl away from the maia’s face and moved closer to her.

“Melin tye ar merin vesta tyenna. Man indotya ná?” he repeats the Question in Noldorin Quenya, all formal ceremonies for his people were done in their language.

I love you, and I want to marry you. What is your will?

“Indonya ná ve indotya. Apa coranar mine, vestuvangwe.” Erinti answered in like.

My will is like your will. At the end of one year, we shall wed.

Notes:

Athaenis is a Sindarin name meaning the kindly/helpful woman the name much like the betrothal words are sourced from realelvish.net

[askgremlinspls]

An Intro

Hello to all, I am new to this "Tumblr" thing you humans love to flock too, recently, me and my fellow brethren have been brought back from the dead.

Unfortunately, we were once in captivity in █████ ██ ████ ██████████, on the bright side, we had escaped and are now hiding in ██████

I will have to thank Juniper for allowing me to access the world wide web through her com̴͚̻̘̹̫̣͐͂͘͠p̶͎͚͊u̶̧̹̲̦̻͖̐̄̈̓̈́̓t̴̪͔̭̗͈̬̊͂͛̌̐e̶̝̓͑ŗ̵̝̙̦̖̒̑͊ͅ ̷͖̎̾̕͜

Holy crap, how did that happen!? must be Brain trying to get access to this blog!? uh... anyways... yeah...

Made a deal with him to make this blog so that, YOU, the people, can ask him and many other gremlins in his horde many questions, from oh lets just say: How they eat, how they sleep, or the occasional off kiltered question a thing or too.

And i also got into contact a few individuals who have mogwais as pets so that way, you can ask the mogwais and their owners a few questions too! So far, i only got full contact with Mr and Mrs Peltzer, and their mogwais, Gizmo, Grace, Spike, and Elle.

I've set up a gremlin translator too so that way you guys can understand what some of these Gremlins and Mogwai are saying.

Here are the following Gremlins/Mogwais you can ask!

Note: Sometimes they can become unavailable due to alot of reasons, some of those reasons can be weird sometimes too, so please be aware of that fact!

Gizmo

Grace

Spike (recently found out his real name is Sam)

Elle

Gaptooth

Algernon (Noggin)

Snout

Claw

Bucky

Duckface (Or Duck/ Ducky for short)

Snout Jr

Warbler

Lucky

BoBo (i found both him and Lucky outside my door)

Stripe

Haskins

Earl

George

Lenny

Mohawk

Daffy

Sebastian (Brain)

Greta

Benny (That one bat gremlin gargoyle, he was alive the entire time)

Vincent (Veggie gremlin)

Erik (That one Phantom of the Opera gremlin dude)

Steve (Brains personal secretary)

Rules

Don't ask/say racist/sexist (misogynistic/misandristic) homophobic, and/or disturbing questions. also, if you ask any suggestive comments, they will have a content warning, and a community label (Mature content). as for NSFW questions, they will be on a separate website all together as Tumblr doesn't allow extreme sexual content.

that being said, ask away!

Note: This blog is ran by @disgustinglittlerat

If you are under 18+, get offended easily, or just don't like suggestive content, DO NOT INTERACT!

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

hello its been a long time l havent seen any long fic l am on a holiday and l’d like to know longest M rated klaine fics preferably on fanfiction.net its really nice to read on the app but searching is very hard thank you so much! and happy holidays!

Ok, longest M rated Klaine stories on fanfic (in English!) ~ Jen

Kurt and Blaine, A love story by sweetgirlgml

This is how I picture canon Kurt and Blaine s relationship since the first day. There are few characters of my own creation thrown in the mix for fun purposes. Lots of romance, some laughter and a few tears. Basically a shameless ode to Klaine fluff. You ve been warned so I won t be held responsible for dentists bills, just saying. Chapters: 72 - Words: 465,199 -

~~~~~

Crowded House by kellyb321

All of your favorite Warblers and a few new faces, too. Follow our boys as they start their lives in NYC, each couple facing their own challenges, heartbreak, self-discovery and redemption. Stick around as they realize support, acceptance and most importantly, true love can all be found in one big Crowded House. Heavy on the Klaine and Niff. Chapters: 117 - Words: 924,400

~~~~~

Another Tomorrow by  xCaellachx

How many times will it take for Blaine to get it right, when he doesn't even know what to fix? Supernatural elements. Chapters: 47 - Words: 167,708

_____

Ambassadors Abroad by jcrissrid

Klaine, The Warblers and New Directions find themselves getting a trip to Europe to sing for 2 weeks this summer. Perfect summer romance for Klaine. Some smut, but M for possible later chapters Chapters: 75 - Words: 243,903

~~~~~

Westerville Abbey by@hkvoyage

Blaine, the spare heir of Westerville, sets out to fulfill his duty of finding a wife. He soon realizes he is more attracted to the new footman, Kurt, who has just arrived to work alongside his father, Westerville Abbey's butler. Will Blaine and Kurt overcome 1910s England's class differences? Will their forbidden love survive WW1? A Downton Abbey inspired historical Klaine Chapters: 64 - Words: 249,587

and sequel Life in the Big Apple By @hkvoyage

Sequel to Westerville Abbey. Kurt and Blaine are reunited, but their happily ever after comes with a whole new set of challenges: relationship hiccups, jealousy, sabotage, war memories, and family troubles. Yet with love and perseverance, they can make it through. A Klaine historical AU set in the 1920s. Chapters: 50 - Words: 201,545

~~~~~

Distance makes the heart grow fonder by Grace Ryan

Kurt is back at McKinley. Klaine are trying to make things work despite the distance. Rated M for fluffiness and future physical contact. ; Not really great at summaries. Chapters: 87 - Words: 223,369

[proton-wobbler]

Warbler Showdown; Bracket 1, Poll 1

Grace's Warbler (Setophaga graciae)

IUCN Rating: Least Concern

Range: western Americas, from Colorado to California in the USA, down through Mexico and into Nicaragua

Habitat: pine-oak forests across most of the range, sometimes in pine savanna in southern regions.

Barbuda Warbler (Setophaga subita)

IUCN Rating: Vulnerable

Range: the island of Barbuda

Habitat: waterside scrub and thickets across the island, though they've been noted in xeric conditions as well.

Image Sources: Grace's (Michael Stremciuc); Barbuda (Jeff Gerbracht)

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this press release from the Center for Biological Diversity:

The Center for Biological Diversity and 29 other bird and wildlife conservation organizations from 24 states filed a legal petition today asking the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to establish a permitting process for commercial buildings to protect birds from deadly window collisions.

Today’s petition proposes a permitting process under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act that would require building owners to use proven measures to reduce collisions, such as films, curtains or others means that make glass visible to birds.

According to recent studies, buildings in the United States kill more than 1 billion birds each year. This problem has contributed to a roughly 30% decline in birds since 1970 — or an estimated 3 billion fewer birds gracing the skies in North America.

“The Fish and Wildlife Service can’t keep letting buildings kill vast numbers of birds every year when there are known solutions to this tragic problem,” said Tara Zuardo, a senior advocate at the Center. “Migrating birds are crashing into walls of glass that leave them broken and dying, and federal officials have a legal duty to push for basic preventative steps. As bird populations dwindle, this threat affects every American in every state, and it needs to be addressed.”

In January 2021 the Service finalized a rule that upended decades of enforcement under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act. This unlawful reinterpretation failed to prohibit the foreseeable killing of migratory birds. In response to successful litigation by the Center and allies, the Service in 2021 revoked this rule and promised to issue regulations to address infrastructure known to cause bird deaths.

But in December 2023 the agency withdrew much-needed draft migratory bird protection rules, claiming that it requires an indefinite amount of time to pursue the rulemaking and left millions of birds vulnerable to building and window collisions.

Today’s petition notes that the Service admits that building collisions are one of the greatest threats to America’s migratory birds. These collisions are driving declines in warblers, sparrows and many other birds, including a number of sensitive species. That means the conditions leading to these collisions require regulation under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act. The Service already administers a permitting process to reduce harm to bald and golden eagles, so it could also do so for migratory birds.

[magnetothemagnificent]

I guess it's time I share my list of birds from this past Jewish year (I've been keeping two Big Year lists, Jewish year and secular year). All are from the US, except the last few which are indicated.

1. Ruby-crowned kinglet

2. American Robin

* Leucistic American Robin

3. Song sparrow

4. Rock pigeon

* Melanistic rock pigeon

5. Chipping sparrow

6. Hairy woodpecker

7. Mourning dove

8. Northern flicker

9. Eastern towhee

10. White crowned sparrow

11. White-throated sparrow

12 Savannah sparrow

13. House sparrow

14. European starling

15. American Crow

16. Common Raven

17. Gray catbird

18. Northern mockingbird

19. Canada Goose

20. Spotted Sandpiper

21. American herring gull

22. Marsh wren

23. Limpkin

24. Great white heron

25. Cattle egret

26. Anhinga

27. Snowy egret

28. Great blue heron

29. Black-crowned night heron

30. Wood stork

31. Common gallinule

32. Blue-gray gnatcatcher

33. Turkey vulture

34. Black vulture

35. Yellow rumped warbler

36. Tufted titmouse

37. Little blue heron

38. White ibis

39. Cooper's hawk

40. Cardinal

41. Green heron

42. Carolina wren

43. Palm warbler

44. Pine warbler

45. Sandhill crane

46. Carolina chickadee

47. Bluejay

48. Osprey

49. Chimney swift

50. Red-tailed hawk

51. Prairie warbler

52. American kestrel

53. Glossy ibis

54. Pied-billed grebe

55. Double-crested cormorant

56. Grey kingbird

57. Brown pelican

58. Fish crow

59. Royal tern

60. Bald eagle

61. Painted bunting

62. American white pelican

63. Common grackle

64. Boat-tailed grackle

65. Great-tailed grackle

66. American purple gallinule

67. American coot

68. Brown-headed cowbird

69. Tricolored heron

70. Mallard

71. Black-bellied whistling duck

72. Eastern kingbird

73. Yellow-billed cuckoo

74. Muscovy duck

75. American bittern

76. Ring-billed gull

77. American Pekin

78. Mallard-Pekin hybrid

79. Eastern bluebird

80. Yellow-bellied sapsucker

81. Red-winged blackbird

82. White-eyed vireo

83. Mottled duck

84. Broad-winged hawk

85. Dark-eyed junco

86. Brown thrasher

87. Sharp-shinned hawk

88. House finch

89. Eastern Phoebe

90. Downy woodpecker

91. Fox sparrow

92. Loggerhead Shrike!!!!

93. White breasted nuthatch

94. Red-bellied woodpecker

95. Brown creeper

96. Pileated woodpecker

97. American goldfinch

98. House wren

99. Barn swallow

100. Tree swallow

101. Black and white warbler

102. Red eyed vireo

103. Yellow warbler

104. Mute swan

105. Rusty blackbird

106. Common yellowthroat

107. Warbling vireo

108. Northern waterthrush

109. Veery

110. Swamp sparrow

111. Wood duck

112. American redstart

113. Orchard oriole

114. Greater Yellowlegs

115. Lesser Yellowlegs

116. Baltimore oriole

117. Hermit thrush

118. Wood thrush

119. Ovenbird

120. Indigo bunting

121. Black-throated blue warbler

122. Scarlet tanager

123. Worm-eating warbler

124. Northern rough-winged swallow

125. Blue-headed vireo

126. Northern parula

127. Prothonotary warbler

128. Philadelphia vireo

129. Blackburnian warbler

130. Magnolia warbler

131. Cedar waxwing

132. Blackpoll warbler

133. Yellow-throated vireo

134. Eastern wood pewee

135. Acadian flycatcher

136. Tennessee warbler

137. Caspian tern

138. Laughing gull

139. Forster's tern

140. American oystercatcher

141. Green-winged teal

142. Purple Martin

143. Least tern

144. Field sparrow

145. Killdeer

146. Grey-cheeked thrush

147. Rose-breasted grosbeak

148. Great-crested flycatcher

149. Swainson's thrush

150. Bay-breasted warbler

151. Chestnut-sided warbler

152. Willow flycatcher

153. Ruby-throated hummingbird

154. Peregrine falcon

155. Hooded crow IL

156. Laughing dove IL

157. Eurasian collared dove IL

158. Eurasian jackdaw IL

159. Common myna IL

160. Rose-ringed parakeet IL

161. White spectacled bulbul IL

162. European bee eater IL

163. Chukar IL

164. Short toed snake eagle IL

165. White stork IL

166. Little egret IL

167. Pygmy cormorant IL

168. Eurasian hoopoe IL

169. Alpine swift IL

170. Graceful pinia IL

171. Eastern Olivaceous Warbler IL

172. Tristan's Starling IL

173. Fan tailed raven IL

174. Eurasian black cap IL

Here's to at least 200 next year!

[gavroche-le-moineau]

Bird time! As a certified Bird Nerd I loved all the references to bird species in this chapter so I figured I would show them off in case you want a visual in your mind.

To try to figure out exactly which species are mentioned (even though I know Hugo was not concerned with what genus and species he was referring to), I looked up the frequency of bird species seen in the Luxembourg Gardens in the first quarter of June on eBird! Granted, I have no idea how much avian diversity has changed in the city of Paris from the 1800s to now, but I don't know my European species very well so this was a huge help.

1. "fauvettes" / "linnets" According to wikipedia, "fauvette" is generally agreed to refer to the family Sylviidae , specifically the genus Sylvia, though it can refer to other passerine species. "Linnet," meanwhile, seems to refer to the family Fringillidæ (true finches). I'm going to go with the original French and say that these are what in English we would call "warblers" rather than finches. The only member of the genus Sylvia seen in the Luxembourg Gardens in early June on eBird is the Eurasian Blackcap (Sylvia atricapilla) (pictured). The other Sylvia species seen in the gardens but more rarely is the Garden Warbler (Sylvia borin).

2. "passereaux" / "sparrows" In ornithology, "passeraux" in English would be "passerines" which is the biggest order of birds, comprising about half of all bird species! However, the TLFi states that "passereau" can be a synonym for "moineau," or "sparrow." So I think Hapgood is correct in that translation and we can narrow down the species a bit. The only sparrow that is seen in the Luxembourg Gardens at any time of year is the House Sparrow (Passer domesticus).

3. "pique-bois" / "woodpeckers" Finally a straight-forward translation! According to eBird data, there are two species of woodpeckers seen in the Luxembourg Gardens. The only one seen at the correct time of year is the Eurasian Green Woodpecker (Picus viridis) (pictured), although the Lesser Spotted Woodpecker (Dryobates minor) has been seen just a little earlier in the year.

4. "les hirondelles" / "the swallows" A species I know quite a lot about! This is undoubtedly referring to the Barn Swallow (Hirundo rustica), which I had the privilege of studying for a few years to research their movement patterns. The line in the text is so wonderful and shows that Hugo has definitely watched these graceful birds before, as he captured the nature in which they glide and skim with speed near the ground, foraging for flying insects: “the swallows indulged in the charming threat of flying low.”

5. "le ramier" / "ring-dove" I believe this is pretty straight-forwardly referring to the Common Wood-Pigeon (Columba palumbus) which is the most commonly seen bird overall in the gardens in early June!

6. "le pinson" / "chaffinch" According to wikipedia, the term "pinson" is another common-name term given to multiple species of grain-eating passerines, however, there are two "true" pinson species, one of which is seen in the Luxembourg Gardens at this time: the Common Chaffinch (Fringilla coelebs).

7. "le chardonneret" / "goldfinch" We're once again dealing with an ambiguous term here for birds in the family Fringillidae. Unfortunately, the birds that have "Chardonneret" in their common name do not appear on any eBird lists for the Luxembourg Gardens. The only other Fringillidae species that are recorded in the gardens (besides the Common Chaffinch) are the European Greenfinch (Chloris chloris) and the European Goldfinch (Carduelis carduelis). While neither have been seen in early June, the European Greenfinch is seen more commonly. However, I think this could be a toss up.

8. "le rouge-gorge" / "red-breast" This one is pretty straightforward, "le Rouge-gorge familier" is none other than the European Robin (Erithacus rubecula) (aka extreme borb).

9. "le verdier" / "the green finch" We've already discussed all of the finches that have been documented in the Luxembourg Gardens, and since "verdier" refers to birds in the genus Chloris, this last bird mention is again talking about our friend the European Greenfinch (Chloris chloris).

After reading this chapter I thought Hugo was listing so many bird species... which he certainly did, but after poking around on eBird for what's been seen at the Luxembourg Gardens in the past I want to know why he focused so much on the finches and didn't mention any thrushes, swifts, tits, wrens, treecreepers, or so many more!

[artsy-hobbitses]

Besides the code names, do the TTB characters have any other nicknames or terms of endearment for each other?

I can’t do a detailed list but off the top of my head;

Bumblebee/Benjamin: Baby Boy/Leprotto (Sunstreaker, ie. ‘little bunny’), Ahrairah (Jazz/Prowl), Benjie/Benjie Elliot (HotRod ie. his name + Billy Elliot)

Ratchet/Ronan: Ratch, Doc, Blackjack (Windblade, who introduces him to the show), Patch (Dinobots ie. skin graft on his face), Assclepius (Sunstreaker)

Prowl/Preston: Baobei (Jazz, ie. 'babe), Prick (Basically anyone not on good terms with him), Capn’ (Hotrod, respectfully after Prowl loses an eye and saves him from the Functionist Universe)

Jazz/Jace: Jayzee (Hotrod, from his initials 'Jace Zayden'), Jinwu (Prowl ie. ‘Golden Crow’ East Asian myth, meant to represent the sun)

Springer/Spencer: Hu Zi (Prowl/Jazz, ie. 'little tiger'), Spence, Mametaro (Windblade ie. 'bean boy' referring to his cuteness as a kid, bight green hair + unique origin), Cabbage Patch (HotRod ie. green hair + little fella + unique origin)

Mirage/Meirion: Merry (Hound), Casper (HotRod)

OP/Omar: Aul Man (HotRod), Glowstick Prime (Whirl), Al-Khattab (Shockwave)

First Aid/Fatima: Nightingale (Streetwise, referring to Florence Nightingale due to her bedside manner compared with Ratchet)

Alpha Trion/Aillard: Gandalf (Hotrod), Pagemaster

Arcee/Ai Xia: Aikira (HotRod/Windblade because GRANNY DOIN BIKE SLIDES BABY), Pohpoh (Younger folks, 'granny')

Sideswipe/Sergio: Fratellino (Sunstreaker), Tweedledee (Ratchet), Saif (First Aid, ie. 'Sword', as he's a frontliner), Enjy (HotRod ie. his 'Enjolras' coat), Barricade Boy (Mirage)

Sunstreaker/Serafino: Fratellone (Sideswipe), Tweedledum (Ratchet), Shamsir (First Aid ie. 'Sword', but also 'Sham' ie. 'Sun'), Lucifer/Lucy (StrongArm ie. his name, 'Angel' and his terrible demeanor)

StrongArm/Stella: White Dwarf (Sunny ie. her name--'Star'--her white hair and her short height), Evenstar (Sideswipe)

Kup/Kopisha: Bajyai (Springer, 'Grandma'), Harisa (Shockwave, ie. 'lioness')

Windblade/Wariko: Riko, Cara Mia (Starscream)

Chromia/Carina: Rina, Dora Milaje, Grace Jones

Drift/Dai: Deadman (Sunstreaker, his body count + ghost-seeing ability)

Starscream/Stefan: Red Baron, Pretty Bird (Shockwave), Uguisu (Windblade, 'Bush Warbler'), Pet (Windblade, not the way Tarn uses it but the way folks in Northeast England use it)

Ravage/Ramiro: Rami, Elskede (Laserbeak, ‘Beloved one’), Lapcat (Tarn), Bagheera (HotRod)

Laserbeak/Lara: Hot Topic (Hotrod), Mi Sol (Ravage, ‘My Sun’),

This is not comprehensive at all! I do have a cast of 40+ and the tangled relationship lines they weave between each other after all :'3 If you'd like to know about a specific person not named here, feel free to ask for that person specifically!

[thesightstoshowyou]

Ripples

Asa Emory (The Collector) x Cricket (OC)

- anon asked if Asa and Cricket ever went on dates and, well, you know how I am -

~~

Foliage crunches under paws while snouts snuffle and search through earth. Sandhill cranes, terns, and warblers utter their last cries of the day as the sun makes its descent into the trees and bathes the glassy lake in hues of orange and purple. Like the tuning of an orchestra, Gryllinae tentatively chirp their intros, unseen in the brush.

Asa collects these small details, tallies them, and files them away like a dutiful accountant would a ledger. What draws his full attention instead is the rippling of summer-warmed water around bare ankles. This gentle stirring is the only disturbance of the water’s otherwise still surface.

Glittering eyes trace the curves of pale calves, their color stark now against the rapidly darkening lake. The calculating gaze comes to rest a moment on the hem of a dress bunched up around soft thighs. Attention shifts to the movement of slender fingers as they tuck a curtain of dark hair behind an ear.

The girl sits at the edge of the lake, poised on a rock, her palms spread across its rough surface to absorb the heat it collected during the day. Her mismatched eyes watch the water swirling around her feet as she leisurely swings her legs. Droplets catch the fading light and fall home with quiet splashes as she lifts a leg and crosses it over the other.

A wet dog nose—Two’s—bumps her hand and Cricket glances over at the hound. He is satisfied with a quick scratch behind the ear and sets off to explore once again. Asa ignores the dog in favor of cataloguing the gentle smile gracing Cricket’s face.

She looks at Asa then. It is not his stare that engages her attention; he stares too often for it to bother like it once did. Rather, it is the desire to thank him for the outing, a break from the monotony. There is no need for her to voice it, to break the hushed serenity of the moment. He knows the look of gratitude in her eyes better than he knows the feeling of it.

The twinkling light of the night’s first star reflects off the surface of the lake. Something akin to regret settles in the Collector’s chest as he pushes to his feet. She looks so at home here. He would let her stay longer, but picking their way through the woods in the dark does not sound like an enjoyable end to the evening. Best to use what faint light remains while they have the chance.

Cricket accepts Asa’s outstretched hand and uses it to steady herself as she slips into her shoes. She doesn’t protest, of course she wouldn’t, but she does give the lake one final glance over her shoulder before being led into the trees. Padding dog feet follow close behind.

The lake is still once more.