#William Gull

[swdefcult]

by eddie campbell

[dalekofchaos]

Evidence

Aaron Kosminski

Jacob Levy

James Maybrick

Thomas Cutbush

Montague John Druitt

Francis Tumblety

Walter Sickert

Hyam Hyams

Joseph Barnett

George Chapman

David Cohen

Royal Conspiracy

[intriguingpeoplebyangelafloyd]

WILLIAM GULL

WILLIAM GULL

1816-1890

Doctor for Queen Victoria & Jack the Ripper suspect

            William Gull was an English physician who saved the life of Victoria’s son and heir, Bertie (Edward VII). He made great advancements in the medical field, including anorexia nervosa (which he first named).

            Gull is best known today as being a Jack the Ripper suspect. Between August and November 1888, five women were murdered and mutilated in Whitechapel, London’s East End. It was believed that Ripper may have been a surgeon (or a student) or a butcher, due to Ripper’s dissections on his victims. However, the perpetrator wasn’t a precise cutter and lacked technical knowledge.

            Gull was aged 71 and was in ill health when the Ripper murders took place, many historians today don’t believe he would have been the perpetrator.

            One newspaper reported that the perpetrator was a ‘medical man of high standing’, whose wife was worried about his erratic behaviour that opened up that her husband could have been the killer. It was alleged his house was search and they found ample proof of murder and he was committed to an asylum. There was no proof that what was reported was factual. There was another rumour that it was one of Gull’s patients who was the killer, this also couldn’t be proven. There was also a story that Gull was the murderer with the assistance of his coachman.

            Gull was born in Colchester, Essex and first had an interest to become a botanist, working at sea and then later gained a strong interest in biology. This is what drove him to work in medicine and had the interest and skills to do well in the field. He married Susan Ann Lacy in 1848 and the couple had three children. After saving Queen Victoria’s son, he was appointed to working for her in an honorary position. Regardless, Queen Victoria would only see her doctor, Sir William Jenner. Gull was an advocate for women to work in the medical profession and went to a meeting to establish a medical scholarship to be awarded to women. He wanted society to have more liberal views of women working in the medical profession.

            By 1887, Gull was in poor health and suffered several strokes at his Scottish home. After he recovered, he returned to London and lived at Grosvenor Square, London; he also had two other homes at Reigate and Brighton. He had more strokes and the fatal one took place on 27 January 1890, which took his life two days later.

#williamgull #jacktheripper

[didanagy]

FROM HELL (2001)

dir. albert hughes and allen hughes

[lepetitdragonvert]

Early Poems of William Morris

1914

Artist : Florence Harrison

« Sir Peter Harpdon’s End »

[boqvistsbabe]

[brawley1492]

SCOTTISH FISHERMEN

Talk to seagulls!

and they know,

Fish feel Pain! ... Scottish fishermen facts

[wrongweaponsdrawn]

"There, there, my good lord, all is well. Fear not, though thoughts and memories most unendurable beset your mind, for I shall take them all away and quite relieve your suffering."

- The Narrator, about to wipe Tippet’s memory

(Source: Sir William Gull, From Hell)

[dame-de-pique]

Herbert William Gallichan - The moon's pale light, Gull Lake, 1907

[gacougnol]

William L. Finley

Flock of Pelicans & Gulls, Malheur Lake, 1908

[lonelywretchjervistetch]

The State Birds Initiative: Pennsylvania (#2)

Welcome to the second official poll of the State Birds Initiative! Before the poll, though, one thing real quick. My suggestion is that you read the post below before voting in the poll below. That's especially important if you're lacking any context about the birds being presented as the new (or old) State Bird of the Keystone State, Pennsylvania. This is to be fully informed as to why these are being presented, and to make your choices appropriately. Lastly, some of these birds, you will notice, may go against some of the rules listed in the introduction post. All is explained after the jump where the explanations are, I promise you that. But with that...OK! Here's the poll! More choices this time, but that's definitely a bit deceptive. Trust me, read the stuff after the jump, you'll see why.

LET'S GO PHILLY

Kidding on two fronts. One, not a massive sports fan, and not really a fan of any Philadelphia teams (I love Gritty, though. Always and forever.). And two, this is obviously not a post about Philadelphia. So, let's talk about the Quaker State, Pennsylvania! The capital is Harrisburg, while its biggest city is Philadelphia. Pennsylvania is, of course, the first capital of these United States, and arguably the seat of the country. It's the home of Benjamin Franklin (even though it wasn't his birthplace), the Liberty Bell, the Constitution, and Rocky Balboa. And of course, its perfect symbol: Gritty.

God, he's beautiful. The perfect mascot. Who cares about the Flyers; Gritty's who I'm rooting for. Anyway, amazing and unassailable symbols of chaos aside, we're here to talk about Pennsylvania's natural world. So, what are we looking at. Well, it's a mostly deciduous forest-dominated state, so we're looking at seasonal forests and probably seasonal birds...for the most part. At the very least, our ideal bird is a forest resident and breeder in the state. Nothing too unusual or difficult to find.

Birding in Pennsylvania is pretty stereotypical to that of the northeastern United States. There are a few major spots, especially those that graze the Appalachian Mountain Range, which runs through the state. As for conservation concern, habitats of focus are the Appalachian forests that are often deforested for development, especially in the areas near Philadelphia. No real surprise, but that's a good target for conservation focus.

As for Pennsylvania's culture, it's famously descendant of the Quakers, who founded the state under the leadership of William Penn. This isn't to say that Pennsylvanians are Quakers; if you've been to Philadelphia, you know that's not true. According to a few accounts I've seen, that essentially means there's an attitude of helpfulness to your neighbor within the state, as well as a cultivation of the value of hard work. It's also a state that prides its history pretty thoroughly, from Philadelphia's various museums and public historical monuments, to the historical communities that thrive in the state, like the Lancaster Amish. Not sure how either of those will translate themselves into birds, but...hey, we'll see, right?

I also saw somebody refer to PA as heavily into "snack culture". And I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I WILL take the opportunity to say one thing: do not waste money on the cheesesteaks at Pat's or Geno's. It's meant to attract tourists, and they aren't worth it, BELIEVE ME. There are better cheesesteaks in the city, from what I've heard, but those two are...not worth the money. Just trust me on this one.

That said, it's time to look for a proper state bird for Pennsylvania. There's some emphasis there on the "proper", and the first entry in the following section has an explanation by that. With that, let's go for it! State Bird nominations for Pennsylvania below the jump!

Ruffed Grouse (Bonasa umbellus)

OK, let's start with the current bird highlighted by Pennsylvania, the Ruffed Grouse (Bonasa umbellus). Now, I love these guys. If you've never experienced it, walking through the woods and suddenly hearing a deep thrumming echo through the trees is...it's a unique sensation. You wonder where it's coming from, why and how it's so loud, what's making it, and then...it just pops up. Maybe it sees you looking for it, and you flush it out and watch a panicking male run away. Maybe he just looks back at you puffed up and stands his ground a bit (which is unlikely, but still). Either way, these guys never cease to put a smile on my face.

This behavior is called drumming, by the way, as pictured above. A male grouse will position themselves on a hollow fallen tree, and use it as a megaphone to send out these vibrations across swathes of territory. It is, unsurprisingly, a territorial behavior for the grouse, and iconic in its own way. Now, a few more facts about the Ruffed Grouse. The name, by the way, comes from the feathers on the sides of the male's neck, which are erected during courtship and territorial displays. It's obviously colored to camouflage in the fallen leaves of deciduous forests, where it resides throughout the year. They're granivorous members of the Galliformes (grouse, pheasants, quail, etc.), and fairly common in the Eastern United States. But with that said...here's the big problem with this choice for State Bird.

It isn't a State Bird. It's a State Game Bird.

Yeah, remember the Delaware Blue Hen from the last poll (assuming you read it, here it is if you didn't)? I suggested that it should be the State Game Bird of Delaware, rather than the State Bird. Well, right next door to Delaware, Pennsylvania already has a State Game Bird in the form of the Ruffed Grouse. Why, you ask? Well, first off, the Ruffed Grouse is actuall known as the "King of the Gamebirds" colloquially, crowned such by William Harnden Foster, the father of skeet shooting. Yes, actually. But anyway, the bird was declared the State Game Bird in 1931, but there was not real reason why outside of popularity with hunters. So...OK, fair enough. It just means that the Ruffed Grouse is not a State Bird. But should it be?

The question asked here is, should the Ruffed Grouse be promoted to a State Bird, since most Pennsylvanians seem to think of it as such anyway? Well, looking at the guidelines we've previously set and established...I don't know, honestly. And my main reason for doubt, personally, is the fact that the grouse, while found in Pennsylvania, is BARELY a breeder in the state. Only 0.4% of the bird's overall breeding population is in Pennsylvania, and only 13% is in the United States at all. And yes, that means the species is mostly found in...

So, when you think about it, is this truly the answer to the PA State Bird question? Well, it does represent much of the biome of Pennsylvania, a forest-dominated state squarely in the temperate and deciduous zone. It has a history and culture of hunting, and the grouse is certainly one of the most popular species on that front. And they're certainly iconic, and easy to hear in most forests, not to mention fun to look and listen for for beginning birders. The first time I stumbled on a Ruffed Grouse was, lemme tell you, a delight. And the second time, I LITERALLY stumbled on them, because a mother and her chicks were running away from me, and one of the chicks ran between my feet from behind me to join its mother, and I have NEVER BEFORE FELT MORE LIKE A DISNEY PRINCESS UNTIL THAT MOMENT IT WAS FUCKING MAGICAL

But, yeah, with that said, I submit the Ruffed Grouse for your deliberation as a State Bird. And as for a State Game Bird...oh, I've got a thought on that one, too. But I'll save that until the end, I think.

Scarlet Tanager (Piranga olivaceus)

So, as before, let's start the replacement options with a bird suggested by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, and a solid-ass pick for a number of reasons. The Scarlet Tanager is one of the most striking birds in the eastern United States, and there's no state with a larger breeding population of these birds than Pennsylvania. 13% of the species' global breeding population is found in PA, making the state a major staging point for the species. Native to and dependent upon the deciduous forests of the state, this is a hidden ornithological icon.

Chestnut-sided Warbler (Setophaga pensylvanica)

Well, if I had the Ring-billed Gull (Larus delawarensis) listed for Delaware, it only makes sense to list the Chestnut-sided Warbler (Setophaga pensylvanica) for Pennsylvania! Similarly, it's the only species that have Pennsylvania as a state in the species name. And trust me, this is a rare luxury, either because most states have no bird species named for them, or a LOT of bird species named for them. Just wait for the Carolinas or California, believe me. But that said, is the Chestnut-sided Warbler a good fit for Pennsylvania?

Well, it certainly breeds in the state; the majority of the global population breeds in Canada, like the Ruffed Grouse, but a good amount still breeds in the deciduous temperate forests of the USA. The PA breeding population represents 3% of the global breeding population, and as compared to Michigan's 7%, Pennsylvania still doesn't have the majority. But again, let's put that statistic to the wayside. Is there anything else about the Chestnut-sided Warbler that represents Pennsylvania in a meaningful way? Well...no. Not, not really. There is a story of John James Audubon (yes, that Audubon, the racist one), and his first AND ONLY sighting of the Chestnut-sided Warbler, which took place in eastern Pennsylvania, alongside his hunt for the species throughout his life. So, hey, there's a tie. But other than that, this is another opportunity to choose an handsome looking bird that serves as a unique bird to look for for Pennsylvanians, any of whom can say, "Hey, I've seen that bird! Cool!"

...Wait, I just realized something about this category of choice. Pennsylvania has more species name reputation than I thought...indirectly. Hmm. Let's combine their entries.

Philadelphia Vireo (Vireo philadelphicus) Bonaparte's Gull (Chroicocephalus philadelphia) Mourning Warbler (Geothlypis philadelphia)

There are, in total, three species that are named after the great city of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. And this is both the only one with the city name in its common name...and also the worst choice of the three. At least the Bonaparte's Gull (Chroicocephalus philadelphia) and the Mourning Warbler (Geothlypis philadelphia) breed in the state. And for the record, those are up for debate for this spot if anybody world prefer those go in there. But if those are better options (barely; both birds also barely breed in Pennsylvania), then why choose the Philadelphia Vireo?

Is it iconic? To birdwatchers, maybe, but mostly because it's a pretty difficult bird to get when you're starting out. I've seen them, but it's not easy to find them. And to the layman? It's a little green bird that lives in green trees. Oof. Hard sell for a state bird. At least Bonaparte's Gull (above) is visible on bodies of water, and a fairly common bird alongside being an unusual-looking gull for most people. Plus, hey, they're kinda handsome and cute in my opinion. What about the Mourning Warbler (below)? While also somewhat difficult to find by virtue of being a little green bird, has a notable and memorable appearance. But you could also argue that it belongs rightly to other states instead.

But the Philadelphia Vireo? Yeah, it's the worst candidate of the three, but...it's also the only warbler who once carried the name Brotherly-Love Vireo. Yeah. As in Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love? That is a good reason. However, you could argue that, given the fact that the work "philadelphia" is literally Greek for "brotherly love"...it's still a flimsy argument. But hey, I'd be remiss if I didn't include these guys on this list for State Bird, even if I...doubt they're gonna get any votes.

Pileated Woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus)

For one of two conservation-related entries of this post, let's take a look at the Pileated Woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus). Now, to get this out of the way, the Pileated Woodpecker is all over the Eastern USA. These big, crow-sized woodpeckers (and these guys are HUGE when you see them for the first time; love 'em) are a common sight in deciduous and coniferous forests (the predominant habitat in PA), and are most certainly breeders in Pennsylvania. They're iconic enough, fun to find, and can be detected through signs they leave in trees. Namely, of course, I'm referring to the nest hollows they make in trees for their offspring, as well as holes made to search for insects. But, OK, same question as always, why suggest it for the PA State Bird?

The pileated woodpecker, as the big bird it is, is an ecosystem modeler. What this means is, those holes they carve in trees are used by other species, including owls, squirrels, weasels, ducks, and various others that live in the same areas. Pennsylvania's wildlife isn't above using Pileated Woodpecker holes for their own uses, making the birds extremely important for other species. Ecosystem architects are not uncommon in nature. Most of your probably think of the American Beaver (Castor canadensis) or the American Alligator (Alligator mississippiensis) when that topic comes up, but there are many others. In ecology, there's a term for species that modify their environments in ways that become significant for the survival of other species. Because other species rely on them, they're referred to as keystone species.

Get it?

Pennsylvania is also known as the Keystone State. And, like beavers and alligators before them, woodpeckers are also keystone species. This isn't a commonly talked about aspect of woodpeckers, but the Pileated Woodpecker in particular is getting some recent attention as a keystone species. So, why not highlight this recently proposed classification and give the Keystone State a Keystone Species for its State Bird? It serves as a lesson in ecology for everyone, school kids or the uninformed, and it's a great way to make the State Bird about Pennsylvania's ecosystems. Conservation-focused, and an iconic species to boot!

Do I think the Pileated Woodpecker is the best species for Pennsylvania on it's own merits? I don't know, honestly. Like I said before, it's a fun-to-find iconic bird, it breeds in the state, and there's not real reason it shouldn't be the state bird. But I really like the idea of giving the Keystone State a keystone species, and not a lot of North American birds act in that role. If anybody has a better suggestion, I am all ears, but I think this one works pretty well. Plus, hey, there's only one woodpecker amongst the State Birds, which is a shame! Who doesn't love woodpeckers?

American Goshawk (Accipiter atricapillus)

For the other conservation entry of this list, we once again turn to a raptor, and a damned cool one at that. Previously referred to as the northern goshawk, the American Goshawk (Accipiter gentilis) is a silent and efficient predator. One of the most skilled forest flyers amongst the accipiter hawks, these birds specialize in rodents and birds that live in the trees, and are amazing at weaving through the understory to catch their prey. I adore goshawks, and they're honestly a bit terrifying. I used to work at a raptor rehabilitation facility which bred these guys in central New York, and they're beautiful and terrifying. Also, I've held one in a towel burrito, and that was a highlight of my life.

Now, with that said, the goshawk is barely found in Pennsylvania in recent years, although it used to be quite common. The Fish and Game Department, alongside Audubon, have this as a species of major concern and focus in Pennsylvania, despite (for because of) a very small breeding population. But there's a sad reason for this, making this a VERY good candidate for State Bird. See, in the 1900s, goshawks were considered pests, due to their love of chicken and wild game birds. Therefore, they were regularly shot, and Pennsylvania in particular offered rewards for their bodies.

By 1931, goshawk populations in Pennsylvania plummeted. This was also when the early 20th century environmentalist movements started, and this issue in particular was noticed by environmentalist and suffragette Rosalie Edge. To save hawk populations in Pennsylvania, she purchased a piece of land to bar the hawk-hunters on the property. This was called Hawk Mountain, and was founded in 1934 as the world's first raptor preserve. Yeah. Not only was it the first of these, but one of the first (if not THE first) created by a woman. Let's fucking go. Rosalie was a known bad-ass in conservation, and regularly did shit like this for what she believed in. An unsung hero of conservation and ornithology.

The hawk hunts ended alongside the Pennsylvania Game Commission in the 1950s, and raptor conservation continued on as a major movement in the state of Pennsylvania. Hawk Mountain in particular became a massive centerpoint of this, and today, it's maybe the most famous place in the United States to watch the annual fall and spring migrations of raptors. The raptor counts at Hawk Mountain Sanctuary are an annual bonanza, attracting birders from near and far. Haven't made it there yet myself, but it's on my list of must-bird locations. I implore you to learn more about this wonderful place. Check out their YouTube channel if you want to know more from their perspective! And it's all based on the impressive conservation story of the American Goshawk. I think that makes it a pretty goddamn good candidate for State Bird. Brings attention to conservation history, and on a major natural phenomenon that can be seen every year in Pennsylvania. Pretty goddamn cool.

The hell is even left after that? Well...

Wild Turkey (Melagris gallopavo)

OK, hear me out here. Of ALL the birds in the USA, if there is any state should have more federal recognition, it's the Wild Turkey (Meleagris gallopavo). It's the only bird that essentially has a holiday dedicated to it (OK, dedicated to killing and eating it, but you get what I mean). It's also, notoriously, the alleged runner-up for national bird, having lost to the Bald Eagle (Halieetus leucocephalus). To be fair, here, that's a potential urban myth, but an important one regardless, especially to Pennsylvania.

Other than this, though, everybody knows what a Turkey looks like. It's arguably one of the top 5 iconic wild birds of the USA, and is very common throughout the country. It is, in fact, found in every one of the Lower 48, and in Hawaii (introduced there). Not Alaska, though. Which is good, because frozen turkey is dangerous. Ha ha ha. But is that an argument for Pennsylvanis to have it as the State Bird, or even as the State Game Bird? Because that's also an option, for the record. I argue, though, that Alabama, Massachusetts, Oklahoma, and South Carolina already have it as a State Game Bird, which especially makes sense for Alabama, which is prime turkey-hunting ground. As is, for that matter, Pennsylvania. Turkey season here is longer than in most places, and according to HuntStand, it's basically a culture there in and of itself. So, yeah, appropriate on that front alone. But that said...Pennsylvania should own the turkey for one more important reason.

I mean...Benjamin Franklin. Come on. You gotta give it to Pennsylvania's favorite son. I've been to the Franklin Institute, I KNOW how beloved he is in PA. And Benjamin Franklin, famously, loved two things: wild sex parties with older women, and the Wild Turkey. AND I QUOTE:

For my own part I wish the Bald Eagle had not been chosen the Representative of our Country. He is a Bird of bad moral Character. He does not get his Living honestly. ...For the Truth the Turkey is in Comparison a much more respectable Bird, and withal a true original Native of America… He is besides, though a little vain & silly, a Bird of Courage, and would not hesitate to attack a Grenadier of the British Guards who should presume to invade his Farm Yard with a red Coat on.”

Now, contrary to popular belief, this is not Franklin saying the Wild Turkey should be the national bird. This is, instead, Frankling saying that he fucking hates the Bald Eagle, whom he sees as a lazy, thieving, selfish, disrespectful, manipulative asshole. So, yeah, in retrospect, not an inappropriate symbol for some parts of the country. But regardless, he's right about turkeys: they do not give a shit about your boundaries if you're on their land. Trust me, I live in an area of New England where there are some BIG fuckin' turkeys, and they WILL CHASE YOU if you mess with them. I SEEN IT

With that, though, I think we've covered the major candidates for the State Bird of Pennsylvania. Any I've missed or forgotten? Any suggestions you may have? I'm all ears! Make sure to vote, and come back for state #3: New Jersey. Which...I think a lot of us have thoughts on. Although, hey...I don't hate the State Bird. Well, as a bird, anyway; I'm indifferent to it as NJ's bird. More context next time, I promise.

See you soon, and happy birding!

[mothiir]

words rarely spoken

for @kit-williams, who requested perturabo and a praise kink. my first time writing the Big Iron Boy so apologies if his characterisation is a little all over.

—

cw: power imbalance.

—

The best thing that the leaders of your world ever did was die, and die swiftly, so cooler heads — those with a more accurate assessment of your ability to defend against the might of the Imperium — prevailed, and negotiated a surrender. Surrender is a delicate way of putting it — wholehearted supplication is more accurate. Levies and taxes and all sorts of sacrifices made; but the intricacies of the deal do not trouble you. The important thing is that you are still alive; that your cities may be rubble, but the land is not scoured and irradiated waste.

You were in a refugee camp, bird-boned and hollow-eyed from living off thin soup and stale bread, when the Iron Warriors swept through looking for serfs. You were picked because — though skinny — you were still able to stand on two feet, and were not actively dying of dysentery.

You are at the unveiling of the new barracks by pure chance. Your status is lowly enough that you are, in essence, the serf of a serf; the assistant to a housekeeper for the recruits. She attends, since she will be overseeing the running of the mighty kitchens, designed to deal with the appetites of baby Astartes; you attend, because she needs someone to take notes, since she’s almost completely deaf after years of dealing with neophytes who are unable to control the volume of their eardrum-busting voices, and she does not want to admit it.

A chill sea breeze whisks your hair back, carrying with it the scent of salt and the distant aroma of lasgun fire, still lingering even months after the capitulation of the system. The barracks is built along the coast, great buttresses of durasteel effortlessly blending in with the native black stone cliff, while the pinnacle of the building stretches towards the slate grey sky in a series of brutalist blocks that — despite their overtly industrial inspiration — seem perfectly at home in the bleak landscape. Already salt-stained and circled by dozens of gulls, howling to each other over the scream of the wind, you would think that the barracks had stood here since time immemorial.

You, and the other household serfs, are honoured with a place on the levitating platform that sweeps along the barracks’ length; you stick to the back corners, not held in place by chain or protocol, but by simple human awe — for at the head of the platform, atop a dais of raw iron, stands Perturabo, Primarch of the Iron Warriors; builder, destroyer, champion. His face is as hard and merciless as the ocean, and even his sons — terrifying creatures that they are — treat him with deference. You’ve heard rumours of decimation, of brutality your sheltered life can’t begin to fathom. So you avert your eyes. So you make yourself small. So you, like the other serfs, attempt to be as grey and faceless and featureless as the cogs in a machine.

The platform is silent, save the occasional hushed conversation between a nervous Iron Warrior and his Primarch. You cannot hear much, but occasionally make out a word or two —

“…not fit for purpose…apologies father —“

— it sounds like he is grovelling. You feel a strange stirring of pity and find yourself wondering: what is the point of all this? Peturabo built the barracks; his sons were overseen by him personally. Surely there is nothing here he has not already seen. And he cannot be trying to impress his serfs, or the native populace. Then why have this barebones ceremony at all?

You glance around the platform, as discreetly as possible. It is huge, larger than a town block (back when your towns still stood). Almost like it was designed to accommodate more people. Almost like he was expecting more guests.

You shake yourself out of your fantasy — you’re not one of those who fervently believe that the soldiers from the stars can read minds, but you don’t want to risk it. To distract yourself, you look back at the building — just as a bolt of sunlight struggles through the cloud, illuminating the barracks in streams of gold. All at once, it is transformed, sharp angles glowing, cavernous pockets of shadow providing dramatic definition against the light. Despite yourself, you whisper: “It’s so beautiful.”

You are not accustomed to how swift Astartes can be, nor how silent — and so when a low voice rumbles behind you, you almost jump out of your skin, heart leaping straight into your gullet.

“What did you say?”

The serfs around you peel away with astonishing speed; there is no solidarity here, especially not when a Primarch looms behind you like a threat. You daren’t turn around, through his shadow obscures the sun, and you smell him — hot iron, and burning plastisteel — and feel the heat of his armour radiating against the chill. You are no psyker, but you feel the weight of his presence heavy on your shoulders, and the prey-animal fear it ignite in you almost has you bolting to the sea, seeking the solace of the waves, and the drowning dark.

However. You master that feeling. You have lived this far; you will continue to live, so help you — not god. No gods here, not anymore. So help you you.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, then think that this is somewhat lacking. “My lord,” you add.

No one shoots you, so you assume this is the correct form of address.

“Beautiful? No. It serves the purpose it is intended for.”

You really should let it slide. You should. But your lips, numb with cold and salt-stained, are still moving. “It can do both — it can be both beautiful and functional. The way the buttresses slope to the waves, along the cliffs like veins or tree-roots; the way the buildings are angled just-so, looking like — “

You risk a sidelong glance; not at his face — you are not so bold — but at his shoulder-pauldrons.

“—looking like your armour, sire — uh, lord — it all has this rhythm to it, this poetry, this uh — “ Shit, shit, shit, you’re going to die, you’re going to die. “—pattern.”

Silence. Full, poignant silence. The serfs have now completely abandoned this corner of the platform; out of the corner of your eye you see that both they and the Astartes have taken up position at the far end, all making a show of looking literally anywhere but at the Primarch. Some are more convincing than others.

“—go on.”

You take in a deep breath, and continue. The windows, visible at a distant, small enough to insulate, large enough for natural light. The grey of the rock stained black by the waves. The craftsmanship of it all. Your voice trembles a little — after all, Peturabo still looms behind you — but the passion in your words is genuine. It really is beautiful, and more beautiful when you consider the context of it all: the coastline had been benighted by warfare and is now transfigured into something useful, something that will stand the test of time; a monument to endurance.

—

You have been talking for ten minutes and thirty two seconds and Perturabo has been hard for eight of those minutes — approaching nine. Now nine. Damn it all to the Warp, his body is a vile useless animal, and he despises its frailty, and you are a lowly mortal, your opinion is worthless, you are worthless —

“The craftsman really understood the native landscape —“

By the Emperor’s right ballsack, he’s going to go mad. He rests one hand on your shoulder — you oof at the sudden weight, peering up at him properly for the first time, all huge eyes and spit-wet mouth.

”Come with me,” he says, and strides off — you jog to keep up, managing three swift strides for each one of his, asking no questions, reeking of fear. And yet you were totally honest with him — he could sense it. Every word of your praise had been the unvarnished truth, even if your voice shook.

You genuinely thought the barracks beautiful, his craftsmanship without peer. Which - -yes, obviously, of course you would. It is. And yet — to hear it stated so plainly —

He does not say a word, nor look at you, the entire journey back to his quarters aboard ship. You trot in his wake the entire way, and when the doors roll open to his spartan accommodation you stare around: blank grey walls, a Primarch-sized bed, topped with a mattress roughly the width of a human thumb. A singular grey pillow.

“Um,” you say, and Peturabo ignores you, tapping at a panel on the wall to lock the door. His erection is acutely uncomfortable, sandwiched against his armour, and even thoughts of the least appealing things he can muster — Dorn naked, Dorn naked, that one time he saw Horus’s hairy arse in the shower — it isn’t going away. His thoughts, usually so regimented, keep turning back to the earnest praise you delivered in that lilting mortal voice, powered by lungs smaller than his palm.

“Talk,” he orders, striding towards you; you shrink back, and he huffs impatience. “I am not going to harm you; you are not in trouble. Talk. Repeat what you said about the barracks.”

”S-sure,” you say, and begin the tale again; it isn’t a duplicate of what you said before, but an escalation, going into more detail, more observations about the quality of the stone masonry. His cock throbs, and he fiddles with his armour, managing — with some indignity — to remove the crotch plate, and thumb aside the skin suit, revealing his hard, leaking member. It is roughly level with your chin, even as you stand, and the sight of your pink tongue gives him some ideas — but then you wouldn’t be able to talk. And he so wants you to talk.

“Touch me,” he says, and you reach up to obey, soft hands against his overheated flesh. Soft hands that have never known truly hard work, fingers that won’t span his girth, and a voice that continues praising him.

“And uh — making destruction into something functional, rebuilding, that’s — that’s a talent that —“

You’re starting to stammer as you stroke him, using both hands to do so. He feels his orgasm start to build — it has been far, far too long — and he moans throatily, his eyes half-closing with pleasure.

“Keep going.”

You are breathless with effort now; he’s heavy in your palms, and he’s crowding closer, leaving you with no choice but to angle his cock directly to your face.

“—and you’re good, you’re so good, you’re the craftsman who makes crisis into construction into cities —“

With a hard grunt, Peturabo cums — and keeps cumming. He paints your face and throat white, and knocks your hands away so he can milk the last little bit out himself, directly onto your chest, soaking the fabric.

“There,” he pants, self-satisfied and rose-cheeks. “Good girl.”

You look astonished more than anything else, reaching up to wipe your face. Once again, he catches your hands.

“Leave it on. I’m not done yet.”

[egrets-not-regrets]

Of Fin and Feathers AU: Negotiations

Mara of the gannet harpies meets with Iron Warrior Warsmith Eciton Formicas to discuss the terms of being allowed to set to temporarily reside in an area of Steelix Cliffs deep in the heart of his territory to avoid the Black Templar shoal. Kalium and Erriox have a bet going on.

Author’s Notes: will be naming the MerErriox AU series “Of Fin and Feathers”. This takes place before the whole Gray Knight bonding with Lana in incident. Thanks for @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for letting me use Keed and Orlys (Alpha Legion Mer) for this one.

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @bispecsual , @ms--lobotomy , @whorety-k

They are coming. The templar shoal is coming!

The sirens’ songs carried in the winds to all who heard them. All manner of magical non-human sentient creatures prepared to hide or leave for safer areas knowing the Black Templar shoal will be migrating through. Those who were either unwary and caught at the wrong place and time or foolish enough to confront this shoal had been cut down mercilessly.

The feathers by Mara's ear holes fluttered in the breeze, carrying the siren’s message with it. After which, the sirens fell silent. The gannet harpy frowned, this matched up with the bits of information that came they received over the past few days. Word from the passing gull harpies was that the shoal was making their way to these waters, still maybe three or four days away judging by their speed of travel.

“The siren sisters are silent now. They must be starting to move.” Another gannet elder, Nerian, commented, “You heard their song too?”

“Yes.” Mara replied, “This is a new change in the black templar shoal movement.”

Nerian hummed thoughtfully, “They don’t usually come through these waters this time of year. Wonder what changed.”

The old gannet muttered, “I don’t care that much to find out. Any word about the state of our secondary rock?”

“Unfortunately it’s fully occupied. Other sea harpies had been evacuating their roosts since the Black Templar shoal changed their pattern.” Nerian grumbled. He couldn’t help but find this situation frustrating. Not that it was their kittiwake and murre cousins’ fault, they are equally vulnerable to the mercurial shoal’s blades. However, this means they don’t have much time to find a whole new safe sanctuary.

“Please send out a message to the scouting parties and ask everyone to look out for possible places that can be a suitable temporary safe haven.” Mara requested.

“Will be done.” Nerian gave an affirmative before taking off. Mara nodded then turned around to make her way back to the colony.

Keed and Orlys, two Alpha Legion mers, had been helping their bonded Lana help others in the colony figure out logistics of moving the fledglings and others that cannot fly as well as their older brethren could, when they overheard Mara’s conversation with Nerian.

“Mara, we couldn’t help but hear your chat with Nerian.” Keed addressed the gannet harpy, “Are you still looking for a temporary place to settle?

Mara sighed, she forgot how keen mer-Astartes hearing was, “Yes. Unfortunately where we would normally go to take shelter is fully occupied. Everyone is spooked by the change in the Black Templar shoal behavior.”

Orlys remembered a conversation he had with the Blood Angel Scoutling, “Jophiel said Lenora was moving closer to the Iron Warrior base. There is the Steelix Cliffs, parts of which are deep in Iron Warrior shoal territory which would be out of the Black Templar’s path; it may be worth asking Erriox about it.”

The elder gannet harpy hummed thoughtfully, “You do have a point. Would you or your brother take a few others for a flight to scout it out please? The harpies will know what we need in a location. Once there's one or a few suitable places, please contact Erriox to request a temporary stay and report back to me. If there is nothing suitable, report back to me regardless.”

“Will do.” Keed replied.

“Thank you.”

She watched the two mers make their way back to Lana, making some sort of hand gestures to determine, Mara guessed, who stays and who goes. The gannet harpy’s dark eyes crinkled with amusement before she went back to her nest.

A few hours later, the scouting group returned with good news of having found a location well-suited to be their safe haven. Mara thanked them for their work before dismissing them.

Keed stayed behind, having a message to pass on to the elder harpy.

Mara then turned her attention to him, “Have you contacted Erriox about this yet?” She asked.

“Yes.” The Alpha Legionary replied, “Erriox said he notified his warsmith about our request and will let us know his answer.”

Coincidentally, his vox crackled to life as Erriox’s voice came over the channel.

“Warsmith Formicas requests a meeting with Mara. When can she meet him?”

Keed relayed the message to the harpy. Mara tapped her claw to her chin in thought before answering, “I can meet him right away. Where is the meeting location?”

There was a pause as Keed communicated Mara’s answer to the Iron Warrior in addition to discussing whatever else between the two mer-Astartes.

“On the beach in the Trail of Stars Cove. It’s halfway between here and the base.”

Mara laughed, familiar with the meeting location being where many of her colony staged part of their courtship, “Sounds rather romantic.” She joked, “Tell Warsmith Formicas that we’ll be there in 30 minutes.”

“Want me to accompany you?” Keed asked the gannet harpy.

“Yes, that would be much appreciated.” Mara smiled, not that she felt there would be any malicious intent from the warsmith, but it was comforting to know she has a mer-Astartes on her side.

The two arrived at the cove just ahead of their meeting time, allowing for some exploration of the beach.

Mara looked around, a sense of pleasant nostalgia clung to her senses. “This is a place where bonding pairs would go as part of their courtship. It is beautiful to visit at night as the name suggests. You should bring Lana here sometime.” She suggested to Keed.

Lana would probably like that. Keed smiled at the idea, though unseen due to his helmet, “I will remember that.”

The warsmith soon arrived, swimming out of the water to meet them, accompanied by Erriox and one other Iron Warrior mer. The large armored-tail venomfin mer dismissed the other two as he swam closer to them.

Keed tilted his head slightly in question, “Do you need me to stay?” He whispered.

Mara waved her claw, “No, I think I’ll be alright.”

“I’ll stay close.” He answered.

Mara thanked him. Keed gave a curt nod before swimming off after the other two Iron Warriors.

“Lady Mara.”

“Warsmith Formicas.” Mara nodded slightly in greeting.

The warsmith eyed the leaving Alpha Legionaire coolly, “Your reputation precedes you, Lady Mara. Uncovering a squad of five Alpha Legionaries. Not many can boast about that.”

Smiling disarmingly at the warsmith, she explained to him, “It was only a matter of chance that it happened that way, Warsmith Formicas. The brothers had bonded to one of my own. Though it is not without its own challenges, they have been good to their bonded and to the rest of my colony.”

“Indeed.” The warsmith acknowledged before getting back to business, inquiring, “You were requesting a temporary safe haven up on Steelix Cliffs?”

Mara nodded, “Yes, we scouted a suitable place about 15 kms north of here along these cliffs.”

She added, “I recognize this location is deep within your territory, but I am hoping to have your permission for my colony to relocate there temporarily, at least until the Black Templar shoal has left these waters.”

“I heard about the changes in the Black Templar shoal movement. The way that most non-human sentients are clearing out of the area or going into hiding is hard to ignore.” The warsmith narrowed his eyes as his armored tail swayed back and forth in thought, “You have my permission for your colony to stay as long as you need, however in return, I ask that you provide aerial surveillance and support, and the use of your Alpha Legion squad.”

Mara knew what the warsmith was thinking and had been prepared for it, “I have a roster of harpies who can start whenever it is required, though we will need further details as patrol areas and what you are looking for. As for the Alpha Legion squad…”

Keed paused and added without prompting, “my brothers and I will work alongside your shoal for the time being.” They can work under warsmith Formicas in exchange for Lana and her colony being better protected. Besides, it would be a good opportunity to gain more information of the shoals and current state of these waters.

“Thank you.” Mara gave the Alpha Legionary a grateful look before he continued to leave.

She asked, turning to the warsmith, “Is that suitable?”

Eciton Formicas recognized the quiet power and experienced leadership the old gannet harpy had, “Yes, it is. You are well prepared, Lady Mara.” He commented shrewdly.

“I have been around long enough to know requests like this are not without some sort of equivalent exchange.” Mara stated, her dark eyes crinkled with amusement.

She shared a wry grin, “It helps to keep good neighbors and allies.”

The warsmith chuckled, “Certainly. I can see why you have so many mer-Astartes under your wing.”

“It only seems that way. They’re not beholden to me or my colony.” Mara insisted, bringing up her claw to hide her smile, knowing that Formicas was talking about the Primaris boys and the Alpha Legion brothers, “They’re good boys.” She said fondly, “though sometimes they need a good talking to… or a few.”

Eciton laughed at the way she addressed the mers as if they were mere whelps, “If that is all you need to do to have them do what you say, I can use your talks on my warriors if it means they would be more disciplined.”

“You flatter me, Warsmith. You greatly overestimate my ability to make them listen. I’m sure you’re doing a fine job taking care of your warriors.” Mara smiled at him graciously, “Regardless, thank you for permitting my colony to stay in your territory.”

“You’re welcome. Should you require it, I can send a few of my Astartes to assist your move. Once you are settled, your harpies will be included in the patrol schedule and we will discuss details then. I will also increase patrols in your area while the Black Templars are present.” Eciton replied.

Mara bowed her head slightly with respect, “That is much appreciated. We should be fine with regards to moving as it is only a temporary stay and we have enough bodies for that.”

She looked out at the water and spotted the teal form of Keed waiting in the distance, then turned back to face the warsmith, “I am grateful for your assistance in this matter, and it eases my worries. Once everything is settled, I will have someone notify you to discuss further details. It was a pleasure meeting you, Warsmith Formicas.” Mara spoke warmly, reaching out her winged claw for a handshake.

His gauntlet engulfed her clawed digits as he gently grasped it, “Same to you, Lady Mara.”

The gannet harpy gave him a smile before she took off. Eciton watched her form rise above the cliffs before he returned to the water to rejoin his warriors.

“Mara agreed to your request?” Erriox asked.

“Yes. Once she sends word, we will discuss the finer details for their aerial patrols.” Eciton confirmed.

“She was rather charming.” He added offhandedly as they were swimming back to the base.

“You sure she isn’t your bonded? You seem awfully amicable with each other.” The younger of his subordinates, Kalium, asked.

Eciton smacked his helmet with his tail, “No, she isn’t. Quit with that nonsense.” He growled.

Erriox held back slightly as their warsmith swam ahead of them, “I told you so. Fair is fair, you are taking my extra shift.” He snickered at his grumbling battle brother.

[creepymarshmallow3]

(sorry for not asking much just been tired and drained a bit 🥲)

To your Trollge ocs

Ask 1, To Hush+Minor(I forgot the mirror ones name...again): Have you ever thought of being seen?

Ask 2, To Gull(haven't asked him in forever-) Have you experienced a forest fire before? Or at night seen idiots play with fire in your forest?

Ask 3, To Ddlc au Puppeteer: I'm curious, in this au how does Puppeteer act with Ravens stuff? Probably instead of how Yuri acts he probably scribbles on his poem about her probably before doing that creepy eye thing again OOF

(sorry for long asks lol)

[ It's okay buddy) ]

Ask 1: [ Damn Hush, my boi, long time no see :> ]

Minor simply doesn't want to be seen by anyone because of his appearance, especially by strangers

And Hush simply hides when he is noticed, but he rarely comes out to look at his surroundings

Ask 2: [ ... ]

Memories...

Ask 3:

Well, yes even though he is not a poet like William, and not a singer, but he tried to attract Raven to himself in this way, but always when he felt strong emotions during the performance of the poem, he again showed a terrible face, scaring her, although he did not want it

[ also he made plushy Raven when met with her in school :> ]

[ phew I did it) sorry for too long buddy ]

[sparrowsfallingfromthesky]

by the way this is terrible picture quality but this is what I ended up doing with my wall last week. I still have to stick everything down more securely and I might make a few adjustments but I'm pretty satisfied.

I even made a shitty gallery guide:

1. Pictures of me with the 4 core members of Darlingside 2. Picture of me with Aaron Tveit 3.-4.   Carousel animal ornaments from the Smithsonian 5.-9.   Photo collages with my college friends 10.-12. Drawings of Les Amis de l'ABC as pigeons by me 13. Portrait of Victor Hugo by Alphonse Legros (Harvard Art Museums) 14.-15. Winnie-the-Pooh pencil drawings by E.H. Shepard (Victoria & Albert Museum) 16. Isabella Stewart Gardner museum, photo by Clements & Howcroft 17. Etching from Carceri d'invenzione (Imaginary Prisons) by Giovanni Battista Piranesi (British Library) 18. Cantica de Medicina by Avicenna (Boston Medical Library/Center for the History of Medicine) 19. Vanitas Still Life by Herman Henstenburgh (Morgan Library & Museum) 20. Mystique by Amy Brown 21. Art by Ulla Thynell 22. Medea by William Wetmore Story (MFA Boston) 23. Rockets and Blue Lights (Close at Hand) to Warn Steamboats of Shoal Water by JMW Turner (Clark Art Institute/MFA Boston) 24. Twilight by George Inness (Williams College Museum of Art) 25. Path to Shambhala by Nicholas Roerich (Nicholas Roerich Museum) 26. Star of the Hero by Nicholas Roerich 27. Palden Lhamo by Nicholas Roerich 28. First Touch (redraw of a still from Pride and Prejudice (2005)) by Kalogh on redbubble 29.-43. Art by @ullathynell (bought from artist's website, but she also has society6) 44. A Thousand Cranes (left screen) by Kayama Matazo (National Museum of Modern Art Tokyo) 45. Art of northern flicker by Sarah Martinez 46. Bird art by me 47. Cover design for Bury the Lede by Dora Lariat by me 48. "ex libris" book plates from my college English department 49. Ship with seven men, net and gull by Alfred Wallis (Kettle's Yard, Cambridge) 50. Farewell by @riisinaakka-draws 51. Piece of eight necklace 52. "Know no shame" inscription from Black Sails 53. Book of adventures by dandingeroz on redbubble 54. Farewell and Good Riddance to Skeleton Island by riisinaakka 55. The Walrus at Night by riisinaakka 56. The map from Treasure Island 57. Hush by @finngualart (SaskiaDeKorte) 58. Returned to the Sea by SaskiaDeKorte 59. Flint coloring page by SaskiaDeKorte, colored by me 60. Madi by riisinaakka 61. Longing by riisinaakka 62. Watercolour raven by SaskiaDeKorte

:)

And (doll tw) here's a "before" shot from a while back (I'd changed the curtain and taken down the mirror in between)

[focsle]

I have a whaling question! How much truth is there in stories of whaling crews press-ganging ("Shanghai-ing") individuals to work aboard the ships? When I toured the ship museum in Mystic CT, the docent said that the desertion rate for each voyage could be as high as 80%, and that crews made up these losses by kidnapping men from bars and making them work.

Whaleships did have extremely high desertion rates, and there are some instances of men being kidnapped by agents to be shipped aboard. One such man was a lad who found himself aboard the ship Tiger in 1845. His fellow whaler, John Perkins described the circumstance of this 'young man shipped by the name of Henry Franklin':

"He declared that he would not tell his real name. His father is an importing merchant of Philadelphia. He graduated from a Catholic college in Maryland and was studying medicine under a doctor in Snow Hill, Maryland. From which place he went to Philadelphia not intending to let his parents know of his presence in the city. While there he got drunk & not knowing what he was about went to New York, where he still kept up his spree. As he was going through Water Street rather 'high' he saw a sign up whalesmen wanted & immediately signed. The next morning he went to beg off, when the shipping agent offered him a glass of grog & kept him drunk until night, when he put him aboard the steamboat bound for Stonington [where the Tiger left from, and where Mystic Seaport is now, more or less]. The Officers call him Frank...his parents know nothing about it. He left everything except what he had on at the time on board a sloop in Philadelphia."

However, while press ganging men onto a whaler is a very common narrative, it wasn't actually a common practice. Rarely were men so explicitly kidnapped, because there often was no need to. There were plenty of willing recruits. However, that didn't mean that agents didn't use other various coercive methods to get them aboard, which usually involved overhyping all the Benefits & Adventures of whaling.

Whaler William B. Whitecar warned of this practice among 'Land Sharks', describing their targets whom he saw in the boarding house he was staying at.

"I viewed with regret the extreme youth of many of them. There is a systematized mode of procedure carried on in our larger Atlantic and Lake cities, for the purpose of recruiting of this service. Shipping agents engage young men, taking advantage of their inexperience or necessities, paint whaling and its appurtenances in vivid colors, induce them to sign their names, and convey them to New Bedford; and when the come to review their outfit bills, they will find a charge from ten to fourteen dollars for the agent's services."

He also added that such land sharks always go provided with The Bottle, "knowing that the sailor is much more easily gulled when half seas over".

In 1847 the American Consul in Honolulu complained of this practice, as this was often where people tried to desert if they had the chance to:

"Formerly, all our whale ships in the Pacific were engaged in taking Sperm oil. Voyages were short and profitable, common hands before the mast, as well as officers and Onwers made money—Seamen had no desire to leave their ships. Almost every man returned in the same vessel in which he came out. Owners found no difficulty in obtaining crews composed of good men.

It soon became known that the business was a very profitable one, and Capitalist eagerly engaged in it ships were rapidly multiplied. Men and boys were collected from our rail roads and canals [another letter of this spirit also mentions ‘our prisons’] by Agents but for that purpose, many of them ruined both in morals and in constitution. These individuals entirely ignorant of the business in which they were about to engage, were placed on board with bills for outfits of from eighty to a hundred dollars standing against them, and for which they had little or nothing to show.

With few exceptions the crews were restless and discontented, many had been on board two years or more, and instead of diminishing the debts which stood against them at the time of sailing they had been compelled to add to them in order to supply themselves with necessary clothing— All the hopes and expectations excited by the Agents had been bloated. They were disgusted with the occupation and determined at all hazards to leave their vessels. They would resort to any and every means to procure their discharge. Failing in this, many deserted. If caught in time to be placed on board of their vessels, they would threaten to burn the ship or do some other act to prevent their proceeding the voyage, saying that they would sooner die than go to the North West again, and in many cases Masters ceased to have any control over their crews. The same state of things must have existed to a greater or less degree in 1845. It is a common remark now, among Masters, that formerly they seldom left a man, and that now they seldom take back many of those who come out with them."

It was a predatory industry that sought out the naive and the down-and-out. And often, agents didn't have to work too hard to find men for the job (thus why actively press ganging them was very rare). Because, as I discuss in this post about why people went whaling, for many--especially in coastal regions in the northeastern US as well as the various global ports and islands whaleships stopped at--if you were a young man who wanted to strike out on your own for the first time, to leave your home town and see the world, to make some money, to find some supposed freedom from repressive living conditions you might be experiencing ashore, a whaleship was one of the easiest ways to do that. The majority of whalers signed on of their own volition, though often because they were fed falsities about the reality of the work they were throwing themselves to. And it wasn't until they were far from shore that they realized how awful the job was, felt completely demoralized, and some deserted. But there were always other young men with the same initial ideas willing to sign on and take their place.