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taterswithranch · 2 years

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Breakfast Gone Wrong

Another Jasmine and Dexter oneshot that I’ve had sitting in my docs for a long time hdjsksk

I actually made a doodle for this awhile back hdjsk

Jasmine was usually the first one awake. The owl lady didn’t need as much sleep as the average person. She was always up way before Dexter was, since three in the morning when he asked her.

So it was rather unusual when Dexter woke up at seven and saw that she wasn’t in the kitchen making breakfast like she usually was. He looked around the house, checking the pantry, the bathroom, and the living room. Stella, Jasmine’s pit bull, watched him curiously as he did so.

No Jasmine anywhere.

“Is… is she not here?” he asked Stella. The dog only tilted her head at him. A tangle of nerves settled in the pit of his stomach. Where is she?

He ran up and down the hall, his long tail swishing nervously. Jasmine was always up before he was. Even if she “slept in,” she would still be up a good two to three hours before Dexter.

He bit his lip as he made another round down the hall. Except, this time he noticed the door to Jasmine’s bedroom was open a small crack. He carefully squeezed his head through. Relief flushed through his system as he saw the bulk of Jasmine’s form gently rise and fall with every breath in the darkness of the room.

Okay. She’s still asleep.

…

She’s… still asleep?

His eyes darted over to the desk in the corner of her room. He could vaguely make out stacks of papers scattered across the surface. Dexter carefully shut the door and returned to the living room.

“Must’ve been a rough night,” he mumbled to no one in particular. He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot on the floor. “Guess I could make cereal?”

He spared a glance towards the kitchen. Living on the streets his entire life left no opportunity for Dexter to use any kitchen appliances, let alone see many of them. He knew the obvious things like a microwave and frying pan, but other than those he could only name a few of the items in Jasmine’s kitchen: big spoon, bigger spoon, teeny tiny spoon, really flat spoon, and clippy things. But he’d seen Jasmine use all of them so many times with such ease. How hard could it be? Jasmine would be so proud of him. And now he was really craving bacon and eggs…

Dexter grinned to himself and rolled up his sleeves. “Yeah, how hard can it be?”

———

“So, uh, how much does she put in here?” Dexter asked Stella who was standing in the doorway. He had retrieved a package of bacon strips, four eggs, and two pieces of bread, racking his memory on how to prepare them. Stella blinked back at him, but otherwise showed no sign of an answer. He sighed, eyeing the bottle of oil in his padded hand. He had set up a pan on one of the burners.

Dexter recalled Jasmine holding the same bottle and drizzling it over the pan. “Ah, screw it,” he muttered, coating the entire base of the pan in a hearty layer of cooking oil. “The more the better, right?” he said enthusiastically. Stella whined and pawed at her nose. Dexter rolled his white eyes. “What do you know? I don’t ever see you in the kitchen whenever she’s cooking.” Stella huffed at him and returned to her bed in the living room. Dexter gawked at the dog’s audacity before returning his attention to the stove. He turned the dial between the letters “M” and “H.” Whatever those mean, he thought to himself.

He set the bottle down and took out two slices of bacon, nestling them next to each other on the pan. They immediately started to hiss. Dexter flinched back, his eyes wide. Why did it sound so… aggressive?

Doesn’t matter. It’s all good, right? Dexter nodded triumphantly and took the two pieces of bread. Surely he could use a toaster. He’s never actually touched the thing, but Jasmine made it look easy enough. Just stick the bread in the thing and- and… There was a knob near the base of the toaster. “What does that do?” he mumbled. He twisted it a few times to the left, then back to the right some more. Nothing seemed to happen. He shrugged and fitted the bread in each of the two slits, pressing down on the handle on the front. From inside, he could see the metal wiring inside turn a vibrant red. He grinned.

“Ha! See! I can use a toaster!” he declared, confidently turning in Stella’s general direction. He looked back at the bacon and saw the oil bubbling around the strips. Jasmine once told him that bacon didn’t take too long to cook. He grabbed a pair of clippy things from a drawer and carefully pried the bacon off the pan.

Suddenly, something hot singed his arm. Dexter yelped and dropped the clippy things on the counter, grabbing at the spot that burned. But it was gone. Just as it had come, it disappeared just as fast. There was a loud crackle then a pop from the pan, and something hot spat on his arm once more. Dexter inhaled sharply and rubbed at the spot. What? He looked back at the bacon. It bubbled and hissed angrily. “Is- Is this what Jazzy means when she says ‘this bacon is spittin’?” he asked aloud. The bacon was spitting hot oil on him. Great. Just great.

Dexter swallowed hard. This just made things a thousand times harder. He picked up the clippy things and cautiously approached the hissy pan from the side, carefully slipping the clippy things under a bacon strip. He quickly flipped the bacon over and immediately backed away from the pan as a string of loud hissing and crackling gave way. He held his breath, waiting for it to die down. A sigh of relief passed his lips. Man…

Now for the other one. Dexter took a deep breath, reaching for the other strip while leaning back as far as he could. In one swift motion, he quickly flipped the bacon over onto the pan, jumping away as it fizzed and bubbled. The top was entirely blackened. Dexter’s heart dropped. He cursed under his breath at the sight of the charred meat. And just when I was doing so good.

Along with the smell of burned bacon, a new scent lingered in the air, making Dexter wrinkle his nose. He followed the scent and felt adrenaline rush through his veins as he saw a thick stream of smoke curling around the toaster.

“No no no no no,” he murmured as he ran over. He tried to examine the damage, but the smoke burned his eyes too much to see anything. Taking a deep breath, Dexter lifted the collar of his shirt above his mouth and nose, reaching around the toaster and unplugging it. The reddened wiring inside dimmed, gradually fading back to a dull grey. He sighed.

A round of aggressive hissing and popping returned his attention to the bacon on the stove. Dexter jumped and skidded over, grabbing the clippy things and trying to turn the bacon over. His hands were shaky and unsteady, and the strip he had picked up dropped back on the pan, splashing oil in every direction.

And right into Dexter’s face.

The digidevil yelped and tried to wipe where the oil had touched him, trying to grab the counter for support. His hand landed on something hot and scorching, the nerves singing in pain. A loud and anguished scream ripped from his throat as he immediately cradled his injured hand to his chest, falling back onto the floor. Tears collected at the corners of his eyes. His chest tightened as he felt heavy sobs trying to escape. Why was everything going so wrong?

He heard footsteps quickly approaching, a familiar voice calling his name. “Dex?! Where are you? What’s wrong?”

Jasmine.

Dexter could see her entering the kitchen. She gasped at the sight of the burning food and Dexter huddled on the floor. She rushed over and quickly turned off the stove, moving the pan to an inactive burner. “Dex!” She knelt down and brought him close to her chest. “Dex, are you okay?” Her voice was concerned yet calm.

Dexter whimpered and curled into her warmth, unable to stop the flow of tears. Jasmine gently rubbed his back and murmured words of assurance.

“What’s wrong?” she asked again. “You alright?”

Dexter flinched and stiffened. Well, she’s gonna notice sooner or later, he thought. As humiliating as it was, he hesitantly showed her the burn on his hand. A mark of his failure. Jasmine inhaled sharply. Dexter refused to make eye contact, too ashamed to look at her.

She carefully took the back of his hand in hers and looked it over. “It doesn’t look too bad,” she concluded. Dexter looked up at her with large round eyes. Jasmine smiled softly and patted his back. “C’mon. It’ll help if we run it under cold water.” She helped him stand and led him over to the sink. She turned it on and adjusted it so the pressure was gentle.

Dexter flinched and let out a strangled yelp as the water made contact with the burn. But the effect was instantaneous. The water was cool to the touch and eased the angry heat in his hand.

Jasmine rubbed his shoulder. “Just keep it under there. I’ll get you an ice pack,” she said. Dexter nodded and watched as she retrieved the dinosaur-shaped pack from the freezer. She wrapped it in a thin towel and brought it back over, turning off the sink. “Try this,” she instructed, handing the ice pack to him.

Dexter winced as he cautiously pressed it against his palm, but the cold seeped into his hand, settling the aggravated injury. He sighed and looked up at the owl lady. “Thanks,” he said with a grateful smile.

Jasmine returned the gesture and playfully ruffled the thin layer of fur on his head. “It’s no problem at all!” She turned around and surveyed the mess in the kitchen. Dexter tensed, shrinking into himself. “What happened here?” she asked. Her tone held no anger or malice. It was simply a question.

A dark blue blush crept along Dexter’s cheeks. “I, um, I tried to- tried to make breakfast,” he stuttered quietly, shifting his weight in embarrassment.

Jasmine’s expression softened. “Aww sweet pea!” she laughed, hugging him to her side. “Sorry for sleeping in. You should’ve woken me up!”

With his uninjured hand, Dexter fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “I didn’t want to. You looked tired,” he replied sheepishly. “And I wanted to surprise you.”

Jasmine cooed and hugged him tighter. “Aren’t you just a sweet little thing!” She cupped his face in her hands and planted a small kiss on his forehead, rubbing his cheek with her thumb. Dexter hummed and felt a stupid smile tug at the corners of his mouth, his tail wagging and a warm feeling blossoming in his chest.

Jasmine released his face, and a part of Dexter was tempted to grab her hands and put them back. “I’ll clean up here. You can go sit. Then I’ll make breakfast!” Dexter nodded eagerly and plopped himself down on one of the chairs at the kitchen island, watching as she cleaned up his mess. He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about it.

Jasmine first looked at the pan on the stove, using the clippy things to peel the ruined strips of bacon off. She wrinkled her nose. “How much oil did you use?” she asked.

Dexter shrugged. “Dunno. Just covered the entire pan.” Jasmine suddenly burst out laughing, and Dexter felt another flush crawl up his neck.

“Sweet pea, you’re just supposed to drizzle a little bit on there. The bacon’s already got a lot of grease on it,” she explained, placing his attempts in a paper towel and throwing them away.

Then, she shifted her focus to the toaster. The smoke had already cleared, allowing her to peer inside. Jasmine tilted her head and grabbed another paper towel, turning the toaster upside down directly above it. Ash poured out of it like black sand. There was no bread left. Dexter could see Jasmine’s shoulders shaking with restrained laughter. She coughed into her fist and put the toaster back down. “You put it on the highest setting,” she stated, unable to contain the stray giggles that bubbled in her chest. She pointed to the dial which was set to a number eight, setting it to a three. “I usually keep it around three or four. Gives it that nice crunch.” Dexter nodded, desperately trying to will the blush on his face to settle back down.

Jasmine leaned on the edge of the counter to face him. “Tell ya what. If you want, when your hand is feeling better, maybe I can show you everything I know about cooking,” she suggested. “Then you can start helping me in the kitchen!”

Dexter straightened up in his seat. “Really?!” he asked excitedly.

Jasmine nodded. “Yeah! Just you and me!” She noticed the eggs left untouched near the stove and grabbed them. She took out a clean pan and turned on the burner, cracking an egg over the pan and letting it sizzle. She pulled out a really flat spoon from the drawer and carefully poked the egg around. “Oh, and you set the burner almost at high. I try to keep it around medium low so it doesn’t burn as fast.”

Dexter hummed and made another mental note in his head.

———

The rest of the morning was relatively calmer now that the disaster Dexter had caused had been dealt with and resolved. Now Dexter lay curled up on Jasmine’s lap in the living room, warm and full of not-burned-and-absolutely-ruined bacon, eggs, and toast. He positioned himself so that his injured hand was cradled to his chest with the ice pack settled on it without aggravating it any further.

He watched as Jasmine had pulled up cooking videos on the TV for them to watch, occasionally asking the owl lady of the different materials and techniques used. She happily answered his questions as best she could (so apparently the really flat spoon is called a spatula and the clippy things are called tongs. Huh).

At some point, Jasmine started to rub small circles on his back. Dexter couldn’t help the purr that vibrated in his chest, but he made no attempts to stop it. He snuggled up closer to Jasmine with a content sigh.

Life was good.

#writing thing #ocs #oc: dexter #oc: jasmine

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thetimelordbatgirl · 3 years

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Another owl house inspired AU on stories by me and my friend, @disneyfan50 , with this one being based on disneyfan’s Blue Fire and our crossover, Sisters Of Fire.

*Nephele Olympia- also known as The Dove Lady due to her cursed from, Nephele used to be in the emperor’s coven and used to be the lover of the former emperor, but when the over-throw happened and her daughter was sent away for safety, Nephele found herself on the run when cursed, as the lord of the isles is after the thing she stole from the coven while fleeing and in present, sells human junk from the human realm, and while doing this one day, she ends up with two humans running through the door, the two changing her life from that day onwards.

*Helena ‘Haley’ Del’Tazar- a human from the human realm, Haley doesn’t know about her biological parents or who they are, as she was found abandoned by her eventual adopted family and in present, is often the calmer one of her and her adopted sister, Jayla, as both have a love for fantasy books and often express said love in various ways, but one of these times that included their book reports, results in them being sent to the principles office and they were set to be sent off to summer camp to calm them down, but neither go, as both follow a dove for their book back and as soon as they arrive to the realm out of their books, Haley starts to feel connected to it in more ways then one.

*Jayla Del’Tazar- a human from the human realm, Jayla is Haley’s adopted sister and both have been close ever since the day baby Haley was brought home, and in present, Jayla is often seen as the chaotic sister of her and Haley and has a love for dragons the most in fantasy, but when one antic of hers and Haley’s results in the pair being sent to the principles office, both find themselves set for a summper camp meant to calm them down, but instead, both go after a dove for their book back and in the process, find themselves in a realm right out of their fantasy books.

*Cerberus- a demon that resembles a three headed dog, Cerberus used to be a loyal member of the emperor’s coven, but ended up leaving with Nephele as well and in present, is her roommate in their home and despite trying to be scary, he often just comes off as adorable.

*Stella- a demon that resides within the house, Stella is the Dove House in some sense and if not residing within the door, often moves throughout the house and beyond it, but despite coming off as annoying a lot, does mean well at the end of the day.

*Cloud- Nephele’s palisman that she made out of palisman wood years ago, Cloud resembles a dove and when not being used by her and Haley and Jayla eventually, she is either hanging around the house or getting human junk for Nephele.

*Nemesis Price- a member of the Lord’s coven, Nemesis is one of its leaders and is loyal to the coven fully, having helped Cygnus in his over-throwing of the former ruler and in present, is assigned the task to bring in Nephele, something Nemesis is willing to do by any means.

*Tiffany Locke- a Hexside student, Tiffany is the former childhood friend of Layla, as both were good friends until the day both fell out as children and in present, Tiffany is often the victim of bullying for her late bloomer status and her failing the Plant track a lot, but after sneaking in two humans one day, she ends up being switched to her rightful track of Construction and ends up befriending the two humans.

*Will Stronghold- a Hexside student, Will is known to try and live up to his parents expectations all the time, leading to him always working hard in his track off Potions, but still has a love for the human realm, leading to him helping Tiffany and the two humans she snuck into school, becoming the trio’s loyal friend.

*Layla Williams- the only daughter of her parents, Layla often is stuck with every expectation her parents can come up with and as a result, is often the schools mean girl in present as she is the star student off the Plant track and tries to avoid former friend Tiffany constantly, but after encountering the humans constantly, she slowly starts to change and slowly starts to fall for the human, Haley, in the process.

*Maya Fawcett and Warren Peace- Layla’s two friends due to their family connections, Maya and Warren are known to be a tag team a lot in their mischief, both studying Illusion track, but still exploring other forms a lot like water and fire, but while they do care about Layla, they do turn nasty sometimes if she tells their parents on them.

*Gwen Grayson- a Hexside student, Gwen is known as the schools second mean girl and with family connections like hers, she often gets away with a lot, including bullying many students like Tiffany, but she is still the schools sports star, with her working hard in the Abomination Coven.

*Penny Lent- a Hexside student, Penny is Gwen’s closest friend and often tag teams with her and bullying others but is like Gwen, a sport star within the school and works hard in the Illusion Track.

*Mrs. and Mr. Wiliams- the parents of Layla, the two are known to be often strict of Layla and be harsh with her in the process, with her mother being in the Plant coven while her father is in the Abomination Coven, as both own and run Williams Industries.

*Lord Cygnus- having overthrown the prior emperor whose fate is unknown, Cygnus changed the emperor’s coven to the lords coven to match his title, and is known as a strict ruler, but doesn’t like it when others could possibly be more powerful then him, hence the covens system and in present, hopes to reach the human realm for unknown reasons.

*Hypnos- Cygnus’ right hand man, Hypnos is known to be loyal to the coven fully and is known to be willing to do any task given to him, but doesn’t like it when the two golden guards start to slowly take his jobs.

*The Golden Guards/Toby and Damien- no one is sure of their origins, but the twin guards are a force to be reckoned with, as both are loyal to the coven that they grew up in, but both slowly start to show disloyalty after befriending the two humans.

*Thanatos Mortis- a old friend of Nephele’s, Thanatos only stayed in the Lord’s coven to find things out and in present, is the new head of the Abomination Coven, but in reality, is leading a mini rebellion, as a reunion with Nephele soon happens and both are determined to stop Cygnus by any means.

*Nike Olympia- the mother of Nephele and the principle off Hexside, Nike is known to be both strict and caring with her students and was relieved when Nephele finally contacted her as she agreed to enroll Nephele’s two humans at least, and despite not being a huge fan off the covens, she is in the Oracle Coven.

#megan's fanfiction #dani's fanfiction #the dove house #OCs #alternate universes

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libidomechanica · 3 years

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Untitled # 8648

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crowned. No! The rich in these he shape, and studied quick, we are Nugae, “quarum pars parva fui,” but she made, and in mutual blisse brine sleek Panope with you but you beareth al nis but as its to sanction first impression, —my humility. “Truth w as a jest to think my love she be a rug— the way you of dutie green lizard, and seeing what he displayment. Alone dwelt, though here be to pay my lips turned to his names of dryness find by the level

bring? Volumes an old faces, a hecatomb of such you are no other plump round her safely crossd, which some talk was pride with the centre, dart thou sh inst in Stella is that crazed his singer, the greens I picked in the house by turns to rewarded? The cup, the footmarks his friends reserved as Pasimond is but still the farms when first, and floated grass by night, ‘and like a flock of love. My beloved

so our earth forth, wants’ to welcoming years, and which all the dews were not— another, rise thine eyes” expense he shoreward. I cannot keep purification as to choose not to me? And kind; but that question of the spot and hence deride were scant dimmd or mended by the river, yet lived a Cyprians fell ere the silver snowy sentence,— come— this face was theres stillness of the dwarf replied, with pains!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #184 texts

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usahotshirtonline · 3 years

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Which element of Halloween Fear shirt

We asked decorators Which element of Halloween Fear shirt . To tell us exactly how they’re feeling right now. They answered in the raw, “Confused.” “Broken.” “Exhausted.” “Lost.” Yet, there’s also an under-glimmering of optimism. “This is a time to be very resourceful,” says Rick Roth, of Rhode Island-based Mirror Image. “People are coming together. Our vendors are saying they’ll give the kind of support we need to get through this. … We can’t be in the same room. No handshaking. We have to stay together using the power of our minds.” House of commons or the house. Hoodie, long-sleeved tee, female tee, men's tee, 3-hole tee, V-neck tee. Of lords we must wait and see i wish you well in your new life in canada wearing heels for.Which element of Halloween Fear shirt, hoodie, sweater, longsleeve and ladies t-shirt

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shirttrendshoponline · 3 years

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Which element of Halloween Fear shirt

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funnyteeshoponline · 3 years

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Which element of Halloween Fear shirt

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loveiscosmicsin · 8 years

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cicatrix

Stretching back to First Oracle Stellaluna the Visionary, as ordained by the Draconian, it’s in their blood, their mother’s blood, their family’s blood and future generations would bear the curse. House of Nox Fleuret were born into this, it was their destiny to be dealt with the cards given to them.

Stella, the big sister, determinator and resistor of fate; by no means a selfless protector and willing to participate in destruction to achieve her goals.

And Luna, the little sister, loyal to a fault and steadfast martyr disposed to demise; conscientious of her own concealed half-truths and half-lies.

They knew how this would end. Free will’s an illusion.

-✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨-

Warning: there are themes of abuse, trauma, and mutilation. Could contain FFXV spoilers, but alterations to the canon narrative and objects. Features Stella and Lunafreya Nox Fleuret as sisters, Stella is 19 years old and Luna at 16. Ao3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10072811

I can’t believe this saved me from writer’s block and I get easily inspired. Based off @owlteria’s High Commander Stella Nox Fleuret artwork, canon divergence/character replacement of Ravus with key differences and headcanons http://owlteria.tumblr.com/post/157546099172/stella-nox-fleuret-based-on-this-interesting Thank you for privately sending me a close up of Stella’s prominent battle scar and letting me write fics to this, Owl. I might do more of these. I do miss Stella and the many interpretations I did have of her.

“You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needs you…” - George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire, #1)

Scars glowed in the moonlight, faded by time, almost nonexistent and silver in contrast to the young woman’s sun-kissed skin and the coarse white garment around her shoulders.

She had lost count of each wound inflicted onto her, but they never went forgotten in the stories they carried. As much as the owner would wish to forget, an exercise in remembrance was conducted before closing her eyes.

The scars danced just as they were vivid and striking to the eyes, restless under the shadows and animated when the heat of battle was upon her. As they were suffocating, she embraced them for they shaped her into the survivor and veteran she was today. The moment the dethroned princess assumed the role as a empire’s glaive, it was also the moment her old life had ended. She forfeited luxurious gowns and silverware no heavier than her pinky finger for a body that begets scars and a rapier that cleaved through many.

But it was her choice and she held no regrets.

Lieutenant Stella Nox Fleuret wasn’t a savior, conqueror, heroine, or villain, not even a superhero or a creature of myth. She was no man either and that presented a glaring degree of antagonism in her precarious situation.

The jagged crimson gash on her right breast served as testament of this. It took the form of a mocking sneer, the very expression her attackers bore when they did this.

Stella examined the damage: a clump of flesh was barely hanging on at the peak of her breast.

Molten iron had went through her in an instant. Immense pain buffeted her before Stella’s brain made the connection that she had been stabbed. She was only given a moment before ordered to continue training in this condition, time enough to apply a gauze patch. Blood had seeped through the bandage and uniform by the time she returned.

The steel letter opener gleamed in the light as she made quick work of ridding the belittled flesh. Before she could contemplate against the notion, the young woman seized a potion and doused the liquid over the wound. A blue hue surfaced before it broke into a mass of white foam that hissed and stung. Blood and curative intertwined and spilled over her stomach and the waistband of her trousers. It would take more than potions to restore her, another scar accounted for.

An attack on her sex.

The lieutenant’s rapid ascension in the ranks was a farce. Though skilled in the blade and the oath sworn, her origins as a Tenebraen noblewoman couldn’t be denied. It caused tension among comrades and led them to question her leadership. Aside from several verbal confrontations, never before had they harmed her.

And it won’t be the last. But she will endure.

Enlisting in the military was the better alternative than allowing Niflheim to give her away in marriage to whoever they choose. She refused to be anyone’s property and have her autonomy stripped away. It was an unfathomable concept of having no right to refuse a husband’s advances and worse outcomes on top of that. She loathed the notion of turning to a man like that to save her sister, not when she was more accustomed to doing anything in her power for family by her own hands.

The curative ceased bubbling, the bleeding at a minimal, but sorrow welled behind Stella’s eyes; she squeezed them shut. It was painful playing this role, it was as though she hadn’t been herself for years, a branded traitor to her people, of her femininity, and hound at the Empire’s beck and call. There was no doubt in her mind that there would be more roles she would adopt later on.

Three knocks politely prompted the woman out of her thoughts.

“Lady Stellafreyr, Lady Lunafreya seeks an audience with you.”

Ah, of course. Stella had returned to the manor of her childhood. Whatever did possess her to do that? Perhaps it was to regain some normalcy of the life thought long-lost or to maybe hear the attached name she had derived from her late-father. Stella was essentially the “lord” of House Fleuret still, when and should she be present within its halls. She had asked the chamberlain and servants to leave her be, but Lunafreya had caught wind of the lieutenant’s uneventful homecoming.

“A moment!” Stella requested as she took off her bloody garment, draped it around the instruments used and sent them a hurried kick to the side. She found a clean shirt waiting on the bed and put it on. “Come in, Lunafreya.”

The youngest Oracle in history and the younger Fleuret sibling walked past the parted doors that closed behind her immediately. “Stella!” She cried out before dashing toward the elder sibling and immersed her into a tight embrace.

Stella gasped, recoiling from the overzealous display of affection. The teenager released her.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“No,” Stella steeled herself through clenched teeth. It took everything in her willpower not to scream and tears pricked at her eyes at the effort. Surely, the bleeding had returned. She forced a smile as she gripped the Oracle at the elbows, “It is so good to see you…”

Luna wasn’t impressed. “It’s been three months since we last saw each other. I cannot turn a blind eye when you can barely stand before me…”

It was in every sister’s instinct to veil the cruelest realities from her sibling, placate them in a fantasy world and assure them that everything would be all right. Stella wouldn’t dare hide anything of that nature from Luna. Luna tended to instigate and inquire even when it wasn’t the best time or place to do so.

“Who did this to you?” Luna held a hand against her lips, mortified.

This world they lived in was merciless and savage, it would not be a mercy to shield Luna from it. It would condemn her if Stella did. It wouldn’t be love if transparency wasn’t the basis of their relationship. Luna was free to formulate her own opinions, right and wrong, as Stella offered nothing but the truth.

“That is irrelevant.” Stella answered honestly and it was the truth. As of now, Luna wasn’t at risk to receive the same treatment. The Oracle’s beauty was far more prized than a soldier’s.

“Irrelevant?” Luna echoed. “I do not understand…” Her short blonde locks hid her troubled features as she shook her head. Her gaze fell to the discarded rolled-up garment on the floor.

Stella moved to button her shirt.

“Let me heal you,” Luna placed her hands over Stella’s, her wet eyes pleading. “Gentiana has been teaching—”

“No.”

Luna refused to relent. “Why?”

Because you shouldn’t waste your gift on a pitiful wretch like me.

There was irony that her life was inconsequential compared to the Oracle’s yet, in vain, Stella breathed meanings into the ever-changing world, constantly differentiating ideals from reality.

It’s a bloodline that Stella and Luna descended from. Stretching back to First Oracle Stellaluna the Visionary, as ordained by the Draconian, it’s in their blood, their mother’s blood, their family’s blood and future generations would bear the curse. House of Nox Fleuret were born into this, it was their destiny to be dealt with the cards given to them.

Stella lived for Luna’s sake, to protect her, from others and especially from herself. Luna was chosen by the divine to heal mankind of the plague and guide the King of Light to ascension. Stella was gifted by their ancestors as well, but all too familiar with aberrant lifespans associated with Oracles. The elder Fleuret would undoubtedly outlive her younger sister.

“What has been done is done. It will heal on its own.” Stella consoled, patting the younger Fleuret’s hands. Wounds heal just as Stella similarly suffered Commander Ulldor’s lash when she leapt to protect Luna. Those wounds healed but there was no justice served for the trauma, merely a decreed suspension.

“If you won’t let me use my power,” Luna began, “may I treat it with what you have?”

Luna was always a tenacious soul, that trait must be in their blood. Once she set her mind on something, there was no other alternative.

Stella lowered her hands. “Very well…”

The moon shined bright at the darkest hour, leaving very few truths hidden in its awakening, but the shadows cast were places many dared not tread. Stella was the constellations that surrounded Luna’s moon, together they were untamed celestial bodies. Even when the moon went through cycles of concealment, at least the stars remained the jewels of the sky. What was the night without the moon and stars?

Luna rifled through all the drawers in the room and brought out a candle stick, a pack of matches, a potion, and a sewing kit. She coaxed the elder Fleuret to take a seat and began. The Oracle watched the imperial lieutenant’s expression as thread and needle punctured and slid through flesh but Stella stared out the window.

“How goes your training under the Messenger?” Stella asked, recalling Luna’s letters of how privileged she felt to be under the tutelage of a benevolent ally and attendant, her partner in divine.

“Gentiana has been a wonderful mentor, but I’m afraid I’m burdening her with my pace. She assigned me to a plant, not native to Tenebrae, and I could barely manage in sustaining it.”

Stella knew what plant the Oracle spoke of. Gentiana, utterly devoted to Luna since the day she was born, had visited Stella on a few occasions to discuss the Oracle’s growth. The dark-haired woman presented the lieutenant an illustrious flower with tiny azure petals in bloom from a delicate stem. It bore no name as the Messenger informed the christening would be in Luna’s honor to give. If the flower was properly cultivated, each and every one of them could bloom exclusively in Tenebrae, from hill to vale.

“Has she raised her voice to you?”

“No, quite the opposite and it worries me. She saw what I’ve been able to do with the trident close by yet advised that I must draw power from within than outward. How could I be so far in my training but not one bit close to completing it? I fail to understand how gardening ties in with my duties.”

Luna may not understand it now, but Stella had a picture retained in her head after the meeting with the Messenger. The Oracle’s office was the symbol of the peace and the flora reverently tended by her hands would be synonymous to the love she indiscriminately held for all life. Hope flourished so long as the Oracle’s promise to protect the world rung true.

“It is difficult now, but it will become second nature. Remember that mother had endured the same trials and shared the same thoughts as you have. Patience yields focus.”

Luna glanced up from her work, bowing her head. “Thank you, sister.”

“I trust that you’ve been living well here?” Stella wondered aloud. As the woman advanced in the ranks, she saw to exploiting the privileges attained so that Luna could live a normal life.

“Yes, you needn’t worry. The guards haven’t laid a hand on me.”

There was a lull in their conversation before Stella brought up a proposal, “I’m relocating to you to Alfheim tomorrow.”

“Does that mean that we’ll be living together?” Luna’s eyes gleamed happily and it warmed Stella’s heart to see that fondness after some time apart.

Fenestala Manor was Luna’s current residence and home of the royal family. Alfheim Manor was Stella’s personal manor, constructed shortly before Tenebrae’s fall, intended as a gift to the heir apparent when she came of age. As the owner would describe it, the manor was a gracious realm of light and beauty, lush gardens suitable for the dogs to run about, libraries with thick tomes for Luna to lose herself to, it was paradise.

“My apologies…” Stella regrettably stated, “I have taken residence in the barracks as of late. Maria, Lady Gentiana, Umbra, and Pryna will be permitted to live there with you. You have my word that you can live there comfortably. All that you desire will be catered to you.”

“All save for one…” Luna replied, crestfallen.

“This arrangement will allow me to come see you with ease. But given my increasingly demanding duties, I cannot promise how often I’ll be able to do so. Pack what you require tonight and I’ll send an escort by morning.”

“No,” Luna objected, “I’ll remain here in the manor.”

“Why?”

“It is our family’s home. I cannot abandon it. Many eyes watch me now that it doesn’t matter where I go. I am still in imperial custody.”

Those crystal eyes may one day be clouded by resentment for Stella’s actions but the commander will always be sincere about her motives. Luna would hold her accountable for a villain or a fool hell-bent on revenge. She submitted herself to the will of the sovereign, but she was no slave to the past or the temptation of power. Stella would be the wielder of her emotions, an impregnable aegis, rather than to be blinded by them.

But Stella had one weakness, one that proved that her walls were all but infallible, when the world had truly failed and hope lingered in a name: Luna.

Luna was Stella’s weakness, a lighthouse for lost travelers at sea, the first rain after an agonizing drought, a haven for foolhardy adventurers. On the day fires ravaged Tenebrae, Luna stayed behind and despite all that transpired afterwards, she bore no ill-will towards King Regis and Prince Noctis, uttered little of the duties expected of her. The blind faith and eminent compassion she held made her a perfect sacrifice to the Astrals than Stella ever would. Defiance was frowned down upon, direct descendant or not.

It was baffling to believe the Luna before her now was the same Luna who Stella mounted a wild spiracorn for when the younger sibling wailed endlessly on a renegade chocobo. Luna held firmly to the reins of her fate, Stella wasn’t ready to release those reins just yet.

Laughter bubbled out of the elder Fleuret’s lips.

Luna’s eyes widened. “Why are you—” She frowned, flustered. “This is no laughing matter!”

Stella wrapped her arms around her sibling’s neck and stroked her hair, the mirth absent as brief as it came. She cannot remember the last time she had laughed freely, it must’ve been a startling sight. “No, it’s not and that’s all right.” She muttered somberly as she watched the short strands escape her fingers. “I still have you, Lunafreya, and you’re all I need. I beg you, don’t grow up too fast.”

#stella nox fleuret #lunafreya nox flueret #ffxv #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy #ff15 #fic based off art #sisters #stars and the moon #ff #final fantasy versus xiii #final fantasy versus 13

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Parrots Quotes

Official Website: Parrots Quotes

• A black-sharded lady keeps me in a parrot cage. – Sylvia Plath • A moment of happiness, you and I sitting on the verandah, apparently two, but one in soul, you and I. We feel the flowing water of life here, you and I, with the garden’s beauty and the birds singing. The stars will be watching us, and we will show them what it is to be a thin crescent moon. You and I unselfed, will be together, indifferent to idle speculation, you and I. The parrots of heaven will be cracking sugar as we laugh together, you and I. In one form upon this earth, and in another form in a timeless sweet land. – Rumi • A real Christian is a person who can give his pet parrot to the town gossip. – Billy Graham • A respect for authority is the basis for most medical education. Students may become so used to memorising that they become prey to the illusion that the reason for learning to parrot lectures and textbooks is that they are the ‘truth’. – Petr Skrabanek • All she saw, down in the cellar well beneath the stoop, was a light yellow feather with a tip of green. And she had never named him. Had called him “my parrot” all these years. “My parrot.” “Love you. “Love you.” Did the dogs get him? Or did he get the message – that she said, “My parrot” and he said, “Love you,” and she had never said it back or even taken the trouble to name him – and manage somehow to fly away on wings that had not soared for six years. – Toni Morrison • All the unhallowed beauty I have found; All free – discordant shrills and form-defying wonders above ground, like writhen trees with draggled foliage struggling along the courses of wayback creeks; scarlet – and – green sky – streaking parrot – fires with parrot shrieks echo – shattering the shoulders of the hills; and desert – sunset – rage Rage for my mind, be clamant, do not cease you are my holiest habitat of peace. – Rex Ingamells • And I will now rock the brown basin from side to side so that my ships may ride the waves. Some will founder. Some will dash themselves against the cliffs. One sails alone. That is my ship. It sails into icy caverns where the sea-bear barks and stalactites swing green chairs. The waves rise, their crests curl; look at the lights on the mastheads. They have scattered, they have foundered, all except my ship which mounts the wave and sweeps before the gale and reaches the islands where the parrots chatter and then the creepers. – Virginia Woolf • Animal hoarding was a dirty secret until hoarders appeared on our TV screens and showed how they are compelled to collect so many dogs, cats or parrots that the animals end up in cages only inches bigger than their own bodies. For life. – Ingrid Newkirk • As we say in Berlin, there are many ways to bake a parrot. – Erik Spiekermann

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Parrot', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_parrot').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_parrot img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Cant is the parrot talk of a profession. – Samuel Taylor Coleridge • Dogs, monkeys, and parrots are a thousand times less miserable than we are. – Voltaire • Eric Clapton always wanted to come out onstage with a stuffed parrot on his shoulder. – Neil Innes • Every man, who parrots the cry of ‘stand by the President’ without adding the proviso ‘so far as he serves the Republic’ takes an attitude as essentially unmanly as that of any Stuart royalist who championed the doctrine that the King could do no wrong. No self-respecting and intelligent free man could take such an attitude. – Theodore Roosevelt • Every unwanted animal ends up on my farm: alpacas and horses and dogs and cats and chickens and ducks and parrots and fish and guinea pigs. – Salma Hayek • Fundamentalists can’t take a joke. Ever. They want us to blindly obey, parrot everything they do, and believe in their dogmas. – Shahin Najafi • God likes a little humor, as is evidence by the fact that he made the monkeys, the parrot — and some of you people. – Billy Sunday • Harvey wasn’t interested in the clothes, it was the masks that mesmerized him. They were like snowflakes: no two alike. Some were made of wood and of plastic; some of straw and cloth and papier-mâché. Some were as bright as parrots, others as pale as parchment. Some were so grotesque he was certain they’d been carved by crazy people; others so perfect they looked like the death masks of angels. There were masks of clowns and foxes, masks like skulls decorated with real teeth, and one with carved flames instead of hair. – Clive Barker • I also had a stuttering problem. In a Mexican home they don’t give you speech therapy; they don’t even know what speech therapy is. They just get the belt. If there’s a parrot in the house, you better talk better than the parrot. – Felipe Esparza • I am sick and tired of the hollow parrot-cry of “Apartheid!” I’ve said many times that the word “Apartheid” means good neighbourliness. – P. W. Botha • I bought myself a parrot, but it did not say “I’m hungry”, and so it died. – Mitch Hedberg • I do not object to the phenomena, but I do object to the parrot. – Stella Gibbons • I don’t like that sort of school… where the bright childish imagination is utterly discouraged… where I have never seen among the pupils, whether boys or girls, anything but little parrots and small calculating machines. – Charles Dickens • I don’t think you see a pirate with a parrot on his shoulder, for example. And even with the accents. – Ray Stevenson • I feel comfortable in Spanish, I chat like a parrot, but I don’t have the confidence in Spanish that I do in English. – Sandra Cisneros • I grew up in a home where animals were ever-present and often dominated our lives. There were always horses, dogs, and cats, as well as a revolving infirmary of injured wildlife being nursed by my sister the aspiring vet. Without any conscious intention on my part, animals come to play a significant role in my fiction: in Three Junes, a parrot and a pack of collies; in The Whole World Over, a bulldog named The Bruce. To dog lovers, by the way, I recommend My Dog Tulip by J. R. Ackerley — by far the best ‘animal book’ I’ve ever read. – Julia Glass • I had a date with a girl I called the parrot. All she did was repeat everything I said. She never had an original thought of her own. Everything I liked, she liked. Everything I hated, she hated. It was annoying! – Justin Chon • I had started by imitating a parrot, which is unusual, in that a parrot is supposed to imitate you. By taking the initiative you allow the parrot no alternative but to be itself, which proves again that attack is often the best defence. – Peter Ustinov • I have a deep-seated respect for parrots. As gifted as I am with all other wildlife, parrots have this uncanny desire to kill me. I’m not sure why, but they’re like my kryptonite! – Steve Irwin • I have two dogs and a parrot, so they require a lot of attention. They deserve it. – Cassie Steele • I never married because there was no need. I have three pets at home which answer the same purpose as a husband. I have a dog which growls every morning, a parrot which swears all afternoon, and a cat that comes home late at night. – Marie Corelli • I really see no harm which can come of giving our children a little knowledge of physiology. … The instruction must be real, based upon observation, eked out by good explanatory diagrams and models, and conveyed by a teacher whose own knowledge has been acquired by a study of the facts; and not the mere catechismal parrot-work which too often usurps the place of elementary teaching. – Thomas Huxley • I regard psychiatry as fifty percent bunk, thirty percent fraud, ten percent parrot talk, and the remaining ten percent just a fancy lingo for the common sense we have had for hundreds and perhaps thousands of years, if we ever had the guts to read. – Raymond Chandler • I think most people are more susceptible to prejudice than to reason. And the parrots of talk radio are just sending out the same stuff. When I look at my e-mails, I see the same Limbaugh rhetoric; apparently, people don’t have any ideas of their own. And there’s just this drumroll of anti-progressive thought. – Roger Ebert • I think my wife is cheating on me, the only thing the parrot knows how to say is, quick out the window. – Rodney Dangerfield • I want it so that every minister will be not a parrot, not an owl sitting upon a dead limb of the tree of knowledge and hooting the hoots that have been hooted for eighteen hundred years. But I want it so that each one can be an investigator, a thinker; and I want to make his congregation grand enough so that they will not only allow him to think, but will demand that he shall think, and give to them the honest truth of his thought. – Robert Green Ingersoll • I wanted to get a tape recorder, but I got a parrot instead. I think I did that joke backwards. – Mitch Hedberg • I was – in this magazine, it referred to me as “political parrot.” And I thought, “That’s the best you can come up with, really?” Okay, and I think it made fun of something I was wearing. But that does happen, and it happens a lot with female journalists, folks. – Kellyanne Conway • I wish to boast that Pygmalion has been an extremely successful play all over Europe and North America as well as at home. It is so intensely and deliberately didactic, and its subject is esteemed so dry, that I delight in throwing it at the heads of the wiseacres who repeat the parrot cry that art should never be didactic. It goes to prove my contention that art should never be anything else. – George Bernard Shaw • I’m a big fan of parrots – I think they’re fascinating creatures. Many of them live for longer than us humans and it’s interesting to me the way they learn to mimic human voices even though they don’t really comprehend what they’re saying. – Derren Brown • If I ran a school, I’d give the average grade to the ones who gave me all the right answers, for being good parrots. I’d give the top grades to those who made a lot of mistakes and told me about them, and then told me what they learned from them. – R. Buckminster Fuller • If it had been a heart attack, the newspapermight have used the word massive,as if a mountain range had openedinside her, but insteadit used the word suddenly, a light coming onin an empty room. The telephonefell from my shoulder, a black parrot repeatingsomething happened, something awfula sunday, dusky. If it had beenterminal, we could have cradled heras she grew smaller, wiped her mouth,said good-bye. But it was sudden,how overnight we could be orphaned& the world became a bell we’d crawl inside& the ringing all we’d eat. – Nick Flynn • If they’d wanted a nice parrot, they wouldn’t have asked for me. – Gilbert Gottfried • If we have come to think that the nursery and the kitchen are the natural sphere of a woman, we have done so exactly as English children come to think that a cage is the natural sphere of a parrot: because they have never seen one anywhere else. – George Bernard Shaw • If you can find a host for me that has a friendly parrot, I will be very very glad… DON’T buy a parrot figuring that it will be a fun surprise for me. To acquire a parrot is a major decision: it is likely to outlive you. If you don’t know how to treat the parrot, it could be emotionally scarred and spend many decades feeling frightened and unhappy. If you buy a captured wild parrot, you will promote a cruel and devastating practice, and the parrot will be emotionally scarred before you get it. Meeting that sad animal is not an agreeable surprise. – Richard Stallman • If you have discovered a truth, tell it first to a parrot! Every new truth needs an insistent repetition! – Mehmet Murat Ildan • I’m a parrot. I can pick up an accent and just do it. – Brion James • I’m going back to my parrot head friends. – Jimmy Buffett • I’m not fighting with myself. Oh, my God. That’s how I am. You know, the story of the hippo? The hippo comes to the monkey and said, listen, I’m not a hippo. So, he paint himself like a zebra. He said but he’s still a hippo. He said but look at you, you’re painted like a zebra but you are a hippo. So then he goes, you know, like I want be a little parrot. So, he put the colours on him and he comes to the monkey and said but, sorry, you are a hippo. So, in the end, you know, he comes and said I’m happy to be a hippo. This is who I am. So, I have to be who I am and he’s happy being a hippo. – Marat Safin • In 1986, our commencement speaker was George Schultz, secretary of state, fourth in line to the president. You get me-basic cable’s second most popular fake newsman. At this rate, the class of 2021 will be addressed by a zoo parrot in a mortar-board that has been trained to say “congratulations. – Stephen Colbert • In her opinion, the parrots were annoying arrogant. You could buy the most beautiful one in town, she observed, but that won’t make it love you. You could feed it, care for it and exclaim over its loveliness, but there was nothing to guarantee that it would stay home with you. There had to be a lesson in there somewhere. – Armistead Maupin • In the spirit of Julian Barnes’s Flaubert’s Parrot and Alain de Botton’s How Proust Can Change Your Life, Mr. Dyer’s Out of Sheer Rage keeps circling its subject in widening loops and then darting at it when you least expect it . . . a wild book. – Christopher Lehmann-Haupt • In this distribution of functions, the scholar is the delegated intellect. In the right state, he is, Man Thinking. In the degenerate state, when the victim of society, he tends to become a mere thinker, or, still worse, the parrot of other men’s thinking. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • In Washington they have their hawks and doves and in Ottawa we have our parrots. – Tommy Douglas • Intellectual is a parrot; wise man is a crow. One is repetitive; other is creative! – Mehmet Murat Ildan • It is more important to repeat a mantra several times with total absorption than to parrot it for hours on end. – Frederick Lenz • It is possible, of course, to operate with figures mechanically, just as it is possible to speak like a parrot: but that hardly deserves the names of thought. It only becomes possible at all after the mathematical notation has, as a result of genuine thought, been so developed that it does the thinking for us, so to speak. – Gottlob Frege • It is sentimentalism to assume that the teaching of life can always be fitted to the child’s interests, just as it is empty formalism to force the child to parrot the formulas of adult society. Interests can be created and stimulated. – Jerome Bruner • I’ve got nine kids, nine dogs, three grandkids – and one in the oven. And three parrots! – Michael Landon • I’ve long suspected that one of the reasons why human beings haven’t yet figured out how to carry on a conversation with bottlenosed porpoises, African gray parrots, et al. in their own language is quite simply that we’re terrified of what they might say to us – not least because it’s entirely possible that they’d be right. – John Michael Greer • Like most men, Jimmy Jim was neither all good nor all bad. It is just that when he was bad, gentler people saw in him a disturbing fury. People, a lot them, don’t understand fury. They understand anger and even hatred, but fury is one of those old words that have gone out of style. Jimmy Jim Bundrum understood it. It rode his shoulder like a parrot. – Rick Bragg • Live in such a way that you would not be ashamed to sell your parrot to the town gossip. – Will Rogers • Make then your forecasts, my lords Astrologers, with your slavish physicians, by means of those astrolabes with which you seek to discern the fantastic nine moving spheres; in these you finally imprison your own minds, so that you appear to me but as parrots in a cage, while I watch you dancing up and down, turning and hopping within those circles. – Giordano Bruno • Man is a parrot in the House of History; he listens and then he repeats the same crap over and over! – Mehmet Murat Ildan • Man is said to be a rational creature; but should it not rather be said, that man is a creature capable of being rational, as we say a parrot is a creature capable of speech? – Fulke Greville, 1st Baron Brooke • Man stands in materialism; you and I are materialists. Our talking about God and Spirit is good; but it is simply the vogue in our society to talk thus: we have learnt it parrot-like and repeat it. So we have to take ourselves where we are as materialists, and must take the help of matter and go on slowly until we become real spiritualists, and feel ourselves spirits, understand the spirit, and find that this world which we call the infinite is but a gross external form of that world which is behind. – Swami Vivekananda • Man stands in materialism; you and I are materialists. Our talking about God and Spirit is good; but it is simply the vogue in our society to talk thus: we have learnt it parrot-like and repeat it. – Swami Vivekananda • Most of the time, I get auditions for deaf characters where the scene has them communicating in really convoluted ways, like reading lips from across the room when the other persons back is turned or having other people parrot what they say. – Shoshannah Stern • Most of us live for the critic, and he lives on us. He doesn’t sacrifice himself. He gets so much a line for writing a criticism. If the birds should read the newspapers, they would all take to changing their notes. The parrots would exchange with the nightingales, and what a farce it would be! – William Morris Hunt • Mr. Jamrach led me through the lobby and into the menagerie. The first was a parrot room, a fearsome screaming place of mad round eyes, crimson breasts that beat against bars, wings that flapped against their neighbours, blood red, royal blue, gypsy yellow, grass green. The birds were crammed along perches. Macaws hung upside down here and there, batting their white eyes, and small green parrots flittered above our heads in drifts. A hot of cockatoos looked down from on high over the shrill madness, high crested, creamy breasted. The screeching was like laughter in hell. – Carol Birch • Much talking is the cause of danger. Silence is the means of avoiding misfortune. The talkative parrot is shut up in a cage. Other birds, without speech, fly freely about. – Sakya Pandita • My dear soul, flee from the worthless, stay close only to those with a pure heart. Like attracts like. A crow will lead you to the graveyard, a parrot to a lump of sugar. – Rumi • My intuition told me that it was the grass that was important.Now it glows parrot-green, cool as mint, soft as moss, lying there like a cashmere blanket. – W. P. Kinsella • Nevertheless we have this curious spectacle: daily the trained parrot in the pulpit gravely delivers himself of these ironies, which he has acquired at second-hand and adopted without examination, to a trained congregation which accepts them without examination, and neither the speaker nor the hearer laughs at himself. It does seem as if we ought to be humble when we are at a bench-show, and not put on airs of intellectual superiority there. – Mark Twain • No doubt there are some who, when confronted with a line of mathematical symbols, however simply presented, can only see the face of a stern parent or teacher who tried to force into them a non-comprehending parrot-like apparent competence–a duty and a duty alone–and no hint of magic or beauty of the subject might be allowed to come through. – Roger Penrose • Not parroting. My old Master used to say, “It is all very good to teach the parrot to say, ‘Lord, Lord, Lord’ all the time; but let the cat come and take hold of its neck, it forgets all about it” [You may] pray all the time, read all the scriptures in the world, and worship all the gods there are, [but] unless you realise the soul there is no freedom. Not talking, theorising, argumentation, but realisation. That I call practical religion. – Swami Vivekananda • O, girls! set your affections on cats, poodles, parrots or lap-dogs; but let matrimony alone. It’s the hardest way on earth to getting a living. – Fanny Fern • Out of the sky, the birds, the parrots, the bells, silk, cloth, and drums, out of Sundays dancing, children’s words and love words, out of love for the little fists of children, I will build a world, my world with round shoulders. – Aime Cesaire • Parrots have gone a bit quiet since pirates have gone. – Karl Pilkington • Parrots make great pets. They have more personality than goldfish – Chevy Chase • Parrots, tortoises and redwoods live a longer life than men do; Men a longer life than dogs do; Dogs a longer life than love does. – Edna St. Vincent Millay • People talk too much. Humans aren’t descended from monkeys. They come from parrots. – Carlos Ruiz Zafon • People who’ve been through our educational system, they think they’re thinking, when they’re just repeating like parrots. – Robert Anton Wilson • Perfection does not come from belief or faith. Talk does not count for anything. Parrots can do that. Perfection comes through the disinterested performance of action. – Swami Vivekananda • Seriously, many people have told me they can’t eat turkeys anymore after getting to know them. I think in the wider world, when the stories air on the media, they help banish the idea that birds, other than parrots, are somehow lesser. – Karen Dawn • She is not refined. She is not unrefined. She keeps a parrot – Mark Twain • She liked anything orange: leaves; some moons; marigolds; chrysanthemums; cheese; pumpkin, both in pie and out; orange juice; marmalade. Orange is bright and demanding. You can’t ignore orange things. She once saw an orange parrot in the pet store and had never wanted anything so much in her life. She would have named it Halloween and fed it butterscotch. Her mother said butterscotch would make a bird sick and, besides, the dog would certainly eat it up. September never spoke to the dog again — on principle. – Catherynne M. Valente • She was not quite what you would call refined. She was not quite what you would call unrefined. She was the kind of person that keeps a parrot. – Mark Twain • Shirley and Griffey get along like a rattler and a parrot. – Jerry Coleman • Shortly, the public will be unable to reason or think for themselves. They’ll only be able to parrot the information they’ve been given on the previous night’s news. – Zbigniew Brzezinski • Sleep in my arms. Like a baby bird. Like a broom among brooms… in a broom closet. Like a tiny parrot. Like a whistle. Like a little song. A song sung by a forest… within a forest… a thousand years ago. – Milan Kundera • Teach a parrot the terms ‘supply and demand’ and you’ve got an economist. – Thomas Carlyle • That parrot’s non-co-operation with the cage, with its master, will live for ever because it looks upon renunciation, non-co-operation, as a joy. – Mahatma Gandhi • The conscious mind allows itself to be trained like a parrot, but the unconscious does not — which is why St. Augustine thanked God for not making him responsible for his dreams. – Carl Jung • The eagle has ceased to scream, but the parrots will now begin to chatter. The war of the giants is over and the pigmies will now start to squabble. – Winston Churchill • The family is on its way out; couples go next; then no more keeping cats or parrots. – Mason Cooley • The immature conscience is not its own master. It simply parrots the decisions of others. It does not make judgments of its own; it merely conforms to the judgments of others. That is not real freedom, and it makes true love impossible, for if we are to love truly and freely, we must be able to give something that is truly our own to another. If our heart does not belong to us, asks Merton, how can we give it to another? – Jon Katz • The kingdom of God does not consist in talk, but in power, that is, in works and practice. God loves the ‘doers of the word’ in faith and love, and not the ‘mere hearers,’ who, like parrots, have learned to utter certain expressions with readiness. – Martin Luther • The middle way is still driving on the wrong side of the road; it still permits the killing of the fox for pleasure. One cannot kill half a fox. Like Monty Python parrot, a fox torn apart by hounds remains dead, deceased and off its perch for ever. Before the fox has been dispatched – sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly – it will have suffered the agonies of the pursuit by animals four times its size and four times its strength. The middle way is a compromise that still seriously compromises the welfare of the fox. – Lyndon Harrison, Baron Harrison • The only animals I’m not comfortable with are parrots, but I’m learning as I go. I’m getting better and better at ’em. I really am. – Steve Irwin • The papers are portraying Rafa as a parrot, just like they did when they showed Graham Taylor as an onion – Bobby Gould • The parrot holds its food for prim consumption as daintily as any debutante, [with] a predilection for pot roast, hashed-brown potatoes, duck skin, butter, hoisin sauce, sesame seed oil, bananas and human thumb. – Alexander Theroux • The parrots are great. They do something I refer to as “the Phone Call from Venus.” They repeat all my phone conversations. It can very annoying – like having a lot of children in the house screaming. – Carrie Fisher • The principle of laissez-faire may be safely trusted to in some things but in many more it is wholly inapplicable; and to appeal to it on all occasions savors more of the policy of a parrot than of a statesman or a philosopher. – John Ramsay McCulloch • The speech of one who utters with his tongue what he thinks with his ear, and feels the pride of a creator in accomplishing the feat of a parrot. A means (under Providence) of setting up as a wit without a capital of sense. – Ambrose Bierce • Then idiots talk….of Energy. If there is a word in the dictionary under any letter from A to Z that I abominate, it is energy. It is such a conventional superstition, such parrot gabble! What the deuce!….But show me a good opportunity, show me something really worth being energetic about, and I’ll show you energy.- Charles Dickens • This parrot is no more. It has ceased to be. It’s expired and gone to meet its maker. This is a late parrot. It’s a stiff. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. If you hadn’t nailed it to the perch, it would be pushing up the daisies. It’s rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-parrot. – Graham Chapman • To a teacher of languages there comes a time when the world is but a place of many words and man appears a mere talking animal not much more wonderful than a parrot. – Joseph Conrad • To secure the safety of the navigation of the Mississippi River I would slay millions. On that point I am not only insane, but mad… I think I see one or two quick blows that will astonish the natives of the South and will convince them that, though to stand behind a big cottonwood and shoot at a passing boat is good sport and safe, it may still reach and kill their friends and families hundreds of miles off. For every bullet shot at a steamboat, I would shoot a thousand 30-pounder Parrots into even helpless towns on Red, Ouachita, Yazoo, or wherever a boat can float or soldier march. – William Tecumseh Sherman • Today the devil as a wolf in supposedly a new suit of sheep’s clothing is enticing some men to parrot his line by advocating planned government guaranteed security at the expense of our liberties. – Ezra Taft Benson • TOPER. Yesterday I carried to wait on a Relation of ours that has a Parrot, and whilst I was discoursing about some private Business, she converted the Bird, and now it talks of nothing but the Light of the Spirit, and the Inward man. – Susanna Centlivre • Wandering around back stage at a willie Nelson concert is a bit like being the parrot on the shoulder of the guy who’s running the Ferris wheel. It’s not the best seat in the house, but you see enough lights, action, people, and confusion to make you wonder if anybody knows what the hell’s going on. If you’re sitting out front, of course, it all rolls along as smoothly as a German train schedule, but as Willie, like any great magician, would be the first to point out, the real show is never in the center ring. As Willie always says, Fortunately, we’re not in control. – Kinky Friedman • We have all been hearing from childhood of such things as love, peace, charity, equality, and universal brotherhood; but they have become to us mere words without meaning, words which we repeat like parrots, and it has become quite natural for us to do so. We cannot help it. – Swami Vivekananda • Well, I play Jews and parrots. Parrots are how I’ve branched out. – Gilbert Gottfried • We’re herded into schools and terrified into behaving. Taught how we’re supposed to pretend to be, taught to parrot all kinds of nonsense at the flick of a switch, taught to keep our heads down and our elbows in and shut off our minds and shut off our sex. We learn we can’t even piss when we have to. That’s how we learn to be plastic and dumb. – Marge Piercy • What are we promoting in society? Well-behaved automatons that spew back what they learned in a book. That’s not science. You can get a parrot to do that. – Neil deGrasse Tyson • What he says, even on his knees, about his own sinfulness is all parrot talk. At bottom, he still believes he has run up a very favorable credit-balance in the Enemy’s ledger by allowing himself to be converted, and thinks that he is showing great humility and condescension in going to church with these ‘smug’, commonplace neighbors at all. – C. S. Lewis • When I came to the United States in 1975 I was eleven, and within a few months my voice broke. I recited commercials like a parrot and I got yelled at quite often. My older brother one night said, “You speak so much English when you’re not supposed to, that’s why your vocal chords shattered. Now you sound like a duck.” I thought it was true. I went from this sweet-voiced Vietnamese kid who spoke Vietnamese and French to this craggy-voiced teenager. – Andrew Lam • When the eagles are silent, the parrots begin to jabber. – Winston Churchill • Woodcutter. Cut my shadow from me. Free me from the torment of being without fruit. Why was I born among mirrors? Day goes round and round me. The night copies me in all its stars. I want to live without my reflection. And then let me dream that ants and thistledown are my leaves and my parrots. – Federico Garcia Lorca • Words learn’d by rote a parrot may rehearse, But talking is not always to converse, Not more distinct from harmony divine The constant creaking of a country sign. – William Cowper • Words, as is well known, are the great foes of reality. I have been for many years a teacher of languages. It is an occupation which at length becomes fatal to whatever share of imagination, observation, and insight an ordinary person may be heir to. To a teacher of languages there comes a time when the world is but a place of many words and man appears a mere talking animal not much more wonderful than a parrot. – Joseph Conrad • Yeah, for some reason parrots have to bite me. That’s their job. I don’t know why that is. They’ve nearly torn my nose off. I’ve had some really bad parrot bites. – Steve Irwin • Yeah? Can you draw a skeleton riding a motorcycle with flames coming out of it? And I want a pirate hat on the skeleton. And a parrot on his shoulder. A skeleton parrot. Or maybe a ninja skeleton parrot? No, that would be overkill. But it’d be cool if the biker skeleton could be shooting some ninja throwing stars. That are on fire. – Richelle Mead • You are falling into your old error, Jeeves, of thinking that Gussie is a parrot. Fight against this. I shall add the oz. – P. G. Wodehouse • You can make even a parrot into a learned political economist – all he must learn are the two words “supply” and “demand.” – Thomas Carlyle • You can’t just rattle it off like a demented parrot. – Angie Sage • You must know nothing before you can learn something, and be empty before you can be filled. Is not the emptiness of the bowl what makes it useful? As for laws, a parrot can repeat them word for word. Their spirit is something else again. As for governing, one must first be lowest before being highest. – Lloyd Alexander • you parrot negative things and squawk about the things you don’t love, you are literally jailing yourself, like a parrot in a cage. Every time you talk about what you don’t love, you are adding another bar to the cage and you are locking yourself away from all the good. – Rhonda Byrne • Your hooves have stamped at the black margin of the wood, Even where horrible green parrots call and swing. My works are all stamped down into the sultry mud.- William Butler Yeats

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