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lady-phasma · 1 year ago

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In the fading light

Daemon Targaryen x fem Dornish!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, but I was going for soft!Daemon so I don't think there are that many warnings this time.

Summary: Daemon comes to visit you at Godsgrace, the seat of House Allyrion, in Dorne. Kind of an AU in the sense that Rhaenyra isn't the object of his love, nor his motivation for "ending his marriage" to Rhea. 2.6k words

From the request here - romantic Daemon inspired by the song "kalam eineh" (Words of his eyes) by Sherine. I was able to work in a few lyrics as well ("the one whose eyes the moon envied" and "get lost in his beauty").

a/n: Dorne is a very big place and all of the houses are as different as the Northern houses. So as I write more Dornish!reader fics I start to see them uniquely in my headcanon. Godgrace is on a river from what my research tells me, so I think it worked out perfectly that Sherine is Egyptian. I've dropped some Egyptian elements into Godsgrace and that's how it is in my head now. (If there was a face claim for a location think Thebes/Luxor landscape.)

A warm breeze wafted onto the balcony where you and Daemon sat. The sun sank low against the horizon. The river in the distance shone with golds and pinks. A falcon screeched nearby. You turned from the gorgeous view of the Godsgrace river oasis to look at your Prince. He sat, reclined, opposite you. You slid your toes up the inside of his leg, teasing him. He stroked the top of your foot, your ankle, up your shin. Your smooth skin reflected the light of the setting sun much as the river did. Daemon slipped his fingertips under the hem of your thin skirt. The contrast of his pale hand under the bronze fabric was delightful to you. This Northern prince, so accustomed to clouds and darkness. Such a dreary land he came from.

You watched him as he looked out over the Greenblood river. It would be so easy to get lost in his beauty. His hair, his eyes, his mouth, everything about him was entrancing to you. You glanced back out at the river, the people going about their evening paying no attention to the lords and ladies so high above them. Birds circled above fishing boats as the nets were pulled in. Lights began to flicker in windows across the city. You smelled roasted meat and fresh baked bread on the warm air. You would have to dress for the evening meal, if you didn’t request it in your quarters.

“Did you come only because the fool Prince Martell forbade it?” You were genuinely curious. “Or because of your brother?”

“You know that is not the reason,” he spoke softly and continued to stroke your leg. “Their approval means less to me than you think.”

“You risk much coming to Godsgrace.” You wiggled your toes against his thigh.

“It is a fair price,” Daemon replied.

“Surely you are quite rested now, my love,” you goaded. “It is a long journey up the Greenblood, but not so tiring that you would ignore me.” You flashed your eyes at him. They were nearly the color of burnt umber in the fading light. Soon your maids would light torches and candles in your chambers. You would hear them through the diaphanous curtains that hung in the entry of the balcony. Though they would never dare to disturb you, even if you had your Targaryen on the floor in front of them.

Daemon turned his violet eyes toward you, finally pulled from his thoughts. Gods, you thought, even the moon could envy those eyes! The last pink of the sunset caught on his silver hair as it swung freely about his face, tendrils caught in the breeze.

“Quite rested,” he smirked as he spoke. He slipped his hand behind your knee and, reaching forward, grabbed your other leg and pulled you, bodily, to him. Your chair legs screeched against the stone floor as you threw your head back and laughed. When he had you where he wanted you, he smoothed his palms up the inside of your thighs. You rested your bare feet on the seat of his chair on either side of his legs. He pushed your skirt all the way up to your waist as he stared into your eyes. His thumbs grazed the creases of your thighs and you sighed.

“The journey was too long, but certain hindrances are now resolved,” his voice was low and quiet. “I am no longer married.”

You raised an eyebrow at these words. You trailed your fingertips down one of his forearms.

“I hope that it was painless, my prince,” you both knew the mocking of his title was not malicious. He was not your prince and you enjoyed reminding him of that. “You know, you could have stayed in Godsgrace and I could have sent one of my women to dispatch the issue quickly.” Your grin was knowing, yet seductive. Daemon’s response to Northern morality was curious to you. He didn’t want his wife, but could not bring himself to have another while she lived.

“I did not say I did the deed,” he tried not to smile. “Only that it was resolved.” Oh, he was deliciously vile when it suited him. You chuckled at this.

“Well, I had no trouble with the situation,” you grazed his thigh with one foot. “I needed only your devotion, not your marriage.”

“That you will always have, my lady,” he replied as he sank to his knees in front of you. You moved your foot to his shoulder, the other still in his chair, as you languidly spread your legs to make room for him. He looked up at you again, catching your eyes with his as he kissed your thigh, then your belly. You stroked one hand over his silky head as he lowered it and kissed the dark hair between your legs. You heard him inhale, smelling you, and you became even wetter.

Daemon licked the full length of your slit and paused at your pearl. He circled it with the tip of his tongue and you gripped the arms of your chair. He slid an arm around one thigh to steady you. Then he grazed a finger through your folds, finding your entrance quickly, as if he knew your geography by heart. He teased and didn’t slide inside you yet. He used two fingers to circle your opening, almost matching the rhythm of his tongue on your clit. Your hips rocked. You tried, and failed, to get his fingers inside. He stilled you as much as he could and continued for a moment that felt like an eternity.

When he finally slipped his fingers into your wet heat he sucked on your clit and your hands flew to the back of his head. You moaned and pushed against his mouth. You thought you felt him chuckle. You didn’t care. You ground your hips on his mouth and fingers.

“Daemon,” you whispered, as that was as loud as you could manage. “That’s it, just there. Please.”

He rubbed his fingertips against the spot that drove you wild, fighting against your clenching muscles. His tongue resumed its circling movements, but with a slightly quicker pace. Your breathing was becoming shallow and the sounds you made came deep from your chest. He pumped his fingers harder into you, knowing the pressure you needed to reach your climax. Your toes curled on his shoulder. You let go of his head, gripped the arms of your chair again, and your body curled forward as your climax overwhelmed you. You yelled his name, moaned incoherently, and then laughed. He hadn’t stopped, tongue still lapping causing your thighs to twitch. You playfully pushed at his forehead to give you peace.

You leaned forward and cupped his face in your hands. His expression wasn’t playful, as yours was. The look was full of something akin to admiration. You kissed him, roughly. You licked yourself from his lips, his tongue, and moaned into his mouth. He reached up and tangled his fingers into your hair at the nape of your neck, letting some of it loose from the pins that held it in place. Without much grace, he blindly began to release your hair from its confines.

Daemon broke your kiss and began to stand up. You let your fingers trail down his body as he did. You grazed your fingers over his pants, deliberately avoiding the hardness straining the fabric. He pulled pins and a comb from your hair, tossing them on the floor with abandon. You looked up at him, a playfully displeased look on your face for the carelessness he showed for your jewelry, and shook out your hair. It fell in near-black waves down your shoulders and back.

“I need you,” Daemon breathed. His eyes were dark with lust. Still looking up at him from your chair, you pressed your palm over his erection. His eyes nearly closed. His chest rose and fell, trying to maintain his composure. You pressed just a little harder. He grabbed your wrists. It didn’t hurt but made it evident that he couldn’t be teased this evening. You stood, your wrists still in his hands. You raised to tiptoes and pulled at his bottom lip with your teeth. Your eyes narrowed in defiance against being so restrained.

“That’s enough!” He threw you over his shoulder. You squealed and laughed, kicking your feet and pounding your fists lightly against his back. Your laughter bounced off the stone walls as he carried you through the curtains into your chambers. You pushed against him, raising your head to look at the two startled maids, and laughed harder.

“Let me go!” You giggled and kicked your feet but he only held your ankles as he walked you to the bed. You heard the two girls scamper from the room, giggling and twittering.

Daemon dropped you lightly on the bed. You were breathless from laughing. He smiled down at you, but that look was back. What had changed since he had gone North? Your laughter faded into giggles, which in turn faded into quick breaths as he knelt on the bed and kissed his way up your feet, calves, and thighs. He began to unfasten the ties of your skirt at your waist and you helped him with the small buttons of your delicate top.

He licked and kissed the curves of your exposed belly. He nuzzled his nose between your breasts, then kissed each of your nipples. You played with his silky hair, enjoying watching him worship you. When he reached your neck and jaw you began tugging on his shirt, pulling it toward his shoulders. He straightened long enough pull it over his head, then bent down to your mouth again. You kissed him back, hands gripping his neck, stroking his shoulders, down his biceps.

Daemon moved with you, still kissing, as you began to sit up. You gently pressed his shoulders back and guided him to lay down. You straddled his thighs and began pulling at the laces of his pants. He groaned at the pressure of your fingers. You stroked his freed cock, watching your hands move slowly. You enjoyed making him wait but you couldn’t wait any longer. You released him and begin to remove his breeches. Once you had both struggled with that for a moment, you trying not to giggle during the endeavor, you climbed up him and placed yourself on his belly. You could feel his cock pressing against your buttocks. You leaned forward and kissed him and he cupped both of your breasts in his hands.

You lifted your hips enough to reach between you and guide him into your wetness. He growled and squeezed your breasts a bit harder. Slowly, you took him inside you. You raised up, allowing him to keep his hands on you, and pressed your hands against his stomach as you rocked your hips. You took his cock as deep as you could. Gradually, at first, then setting a gentle pace that brought sweet sounds from Daemon’s lips. You leaned forward slightly, finding the angle you needed. He moved his hands, one to your neck, one to your hip. As you settled on a rhythm, he began to match you, thrusting upward slightly each time you rocked back on his cock.

You let your head fall forward, you hair sweeping forward, framing your face and his. Your fingers curled against his chest. You kept this pace as long as you could before your cunt began to ache with the beginnings of your climax. You slowed and Daemon took over. Gripping both of your hips, he fucked up into you, harder than you had been able to manage. His grunts made you squeeze around his cock. They were wonderful sounds that only increased your need for him.

You rested your face against his, pressing your cheeks together. Neither of you could stay quiet. Your name fell from his lips as fluidly as the curses he uttered. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you down onto each of his upward thrusts. The sound of flesh against flesh, lewd and satisfying. Your bodies glistened with sweat in the torch light. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him but the pleasure was too great.

“Yes, please, Daemon,” you whined in his ear. Your lips drug across his cheek as you searched for his mouth. You tried to kiss him. Instead you panted and moaned against his mouth. As your climax began the wave that would drown you, you heard his voice, much calmer than yours could have been in that moment.

“Look at me.” You did. He didn’t stop fucking you, but he held your gaze with those perfect eyes. “I love you. I would kill for you. I would kill anyone who kept us apart.”

Something in his eyes, not just his words, was your undoing. Your climax spread over you at the same time as it curled up inside you. You squeezed your thighs against his hips, almost stopping his movements entirely. You bent to him and kissed him, moaning and sighing, as you came.

Suddenly Daemon’s large arms encircled you and in your delirium you could hardly notice that he was moving you. You clung to his shoulders as he somehow, and gracefully, managed to lay you on your back. He had not pulled out. You wrapped your legs around his hips and ran your hands into his hair.

Daemon fucked you without restraint. You were coming down from your climax but your cunt gripped him tight and he grunted with each deep thrust. He shifted his weight to one hand and deftly scooped one of your legs into the crook of his arm. You bit your lower lip and looked up at him. He was watching you.

“Touch yourself,” he panted. “Come on my cock again.” His smile was enough to convince you, if his words hadn’t been.

So you did. You rubbed your fingers quickly, and in time with his strokes. When you were close again, you arched under him, head thrown back, Daemon’s mouth on your exposed neck. Then he pressed his hips against you as hard as he could. His cock buried completely inside you as he came. Your cunt spasmed around him and you both felt his seed fill you as your climax peaked. He cursed and tried to gently lower your leg. Your body shook and you were unable to help him. He chuckled and kissed your forehead.

As he slowly pulled out and away from you, you mewled and groaned, closing your thighs and squeezing them together. Daemon lowered himself down next to you, on his side. He rested his head on your chest. You smoothed his hair away from his forehead in a long stroke down to his back and sighed. You let your hand rest on his shoulder. He held you close to him.

The cool night breeze wicked the sweat off your skin. The torches guttered slightly. You wrapped one leg over Daemon’s. You wanted every part of your body touching his. You breathed in his smell mixed with your own and the dusty sweetness of Godsgrace coming in through the curtains.

“No one will come between us,” Daemon whispered against you.

“I know, my love, my dragon” you replied, lips brushing against the top of his head.

The sun had set and, perhaps, the dark was what he needed. In the light of day The Rogue Prince was rakish and disreputable. But at night, with you, he could shed that facade.

Masterlist

Tags: @black-dread

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thedrawingduke · 3 months ago

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TALE of WOE:

So I had offered to help with a mural project for a local company my friend/roommate works for. They had a really bad design mocked up that no one was happy with and I’ve had *some* mural experience and thought it sounded fun. Besides, it helps out a local business. And it gives my relatives something to point at and appreciate (they do their best to be supportive but my Frankenstein art is…a lot for them, let’s be real).

The owner was really difficult to get in touch with (had to play telephone thru my friend to hear from him) but he liked my concept sketches. After I heard he planned on low-balling us big time with the budget, I came up with a simpler design to pitch at our first and only in-person meeting. (And I mean LOW ball, he wanted to pay like 5-10$ per square foot, no design fee).

This guy is quite young. He showed up in a grubby shirt, sport shorts, and a business tie “as a joke”. He proceeded to low ball us but he liked the sketches and when we gave a second estimate, he did eventually approve the budget (a sweetheart deal, a steal, from the generosity of our hearts and goodwill for our friend and a local business). But he did flaunt his commission of a “coffee robot” for his fireworks stand (a side gig?) so I can see a worrying lack of discernment and money-smarts.

We work on getting a contract written up but he’s not responding and my friend (the “telephone”) is struggling to get info from him. Then, 3 days before the final art deadline, he says he wants the old concept actually (the one for a much bigger budget) but he doesn’t want to pay for the design changes or increase budget. Apparently the intern and another party (not owners) changed his mind idk. He is very malleable, apparently.

When we try and say that’s not going to be possible without compensation, he passes the whole project to his intern and says we will be compensated for work done, as he wants to pay us for the use of the concepts and go with another muralist (intern’s dad). Ok buddy, good riddance, I guess.

My design partner and I draft up two pricing options and send them to him. Telephone friend tells me that he’s dragging his feet on the payment because he’s had unsuspected money issues (the previous owner was/is a crook who is allergic to paying taxes) but she assures me he will compensate me, it just might take a while.

At this point, I’m just relieved to be free of the mess. I really did want a mural under my belt and the money is needed but hey, it happens. Clearly, this guy doesn’t understand that my partner and I were already giving him a sweetheart deal and we can’t make him value us and our work so we see this as a net blessing. Best of luck to their new muralist, whoever that may be.

Holidays happen, no news. No updates. Most importantly: no check. I’m on day 2 of driving back home from holidays on the East Coast when I get a text from telephone friend informing us that the owner has decided to “pass” on the design packet options and just…not pay me. Oh and that’s not all! The new mural is up and lo and behold: it’s based off my concept art. The concepts he didn’t want to pay for but clearly gave to the muralist to use as inspiration!!!

The final art is not traced from my sketches, and there are some elements added so the muralist clearly made it his own—I’ll hand it to him. But the CONCEPT is my work. I had nothing to go off of from the owner (the original mural concept from the previous artist was unusable). The line art style, the use of 2 kinds of birds, the color scheme, pop art style bursts, even the idea of a hand holding the coffee cup with the company logo—those were all things I came up with and researched and put on paper.

It sucks on multiple levels, obviously. But what gets me is that I can’t think of a way of making a stink without it putting my friend/roommate’s job in jeopardy. Like I could just go public and see what happens, but the owner is so irresponsible…he’d just put the mess on her plate. Idk he better shape up and start treating her right OR hope and pray she doesn’t leave because she’s the only thing between him and us having a Problem.

Idk the whole thing blows and the economy is bad and now I can’t shop my mural designs to anyone else because the concepts are the same LOL. What a mess! Happy new year to me

#thanks for hearing me out tumblr I needed to rant

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live-love-be-unique · 11 months ago

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I Am No Bird; And No Net Ensnares Me

Summary: Ghost finds himself starting an informal book club with the newest addition to the taskforce.

#22. Ghost and Reader are in a book club for @glitterypirateduck Ghost Challenge.

Parings: Ghost x f reader

Warnings: angst, death and an unconfessed love

You’d been reading your book, when you looked up noticing him staring “you can borrow it if you want? Price says we’ll be sitting tight for a while”

You weren’t kidding, three days later and the exfil still hadn’t shown up. Ghost devoured your book in the meantime, it was actually pretty good, a story about two sisters that had been separated during German-occupied, war-torn France. A little too heartbreaking for his liking but still a good read. One quote amongst the many you had underlined in gray lead pencil had stuck with him: “if I have learned anything in this long life of mine, it is this: in love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are."

Days later you’d been sitting on the break room sofa, talking with another female soldier and as he passed he dropped a novel onto your lap. Not a fiction story like you preferred, this one was a memoir of a retired Navy SEAL who was also a Guinness world record holder and an ultramarathon runner. He’d met the man once, respected the hell out of him, for an American. “Thought you’d enjoy this” he offered to your questioning glance as he passed.

It quickly become a habit between the two of you, packing a novel in amongst your supplies for missions to swap during to periods of waiting. Almost like a little unofficial book club. Sometimes, you’d find yourselves together in the break room decompressing after a long mission discussing the books you’d read over cups of tea. He’d learnt you preferred fantasy, dark romance and mystery while he enjoyed thriller, true crime and the odd biography.

He also learnt that you weren’t above the odd prank either, during one particular downtime, he was reading the book you’d brought along and, as he was invested in a pretty graphic sex scene involving a gun, Soap had spotted the book’s title, it also didn’t help that he had been imagining it was you underneath him in that same position. Once Gaz had caught onto what was happening he knew he’d been hearing about it for weeks. He caught sight of you giggling away behind his copy of the historical non-fiction he’d lent you about America's first considered serial killer.

He retaliated by bringing what he imagined you’d think was the most boring book in his collection, all 411 pages of a nautical historical fiction about a young naval lieutenant newly promoted to master and commander. He was right, you’d read the entire thing, under sufferance of course.

He found himself watching you as you read, the way you chewed on your lip as you concentrated, the way you smiled when you read something you enjoyed and frowned when you didn’t. He even learned to love the little notes and quips you left in the margins of his books when at first it annoyed him. He’d watch you, hoping to catch you glancing over at him, above the pages of your book, sending a soft smile his way.

The last mission had been a mistake, anything that could have gone wrong did, and you had born the brunt of it. You’d been raced to the medbay unconscious and barely breathing, they’d had to intubate you immediately and had moved you to a hospital off base for treatment. He hadn’t left your side since.

He spent his time devouring any medical textbooks he could find on your condition, so much so that Gaz was convinced, if allowed, he could perform your surgery.

Price had visited a few days later, citing mission reports as the reason for his delay, bringing with him a box of your belongings, “some comforts from home” he’d muttered. At the bottom of the box, buried underneath a well-worn sweatshirt and a teddy bear that was signed by friends and family from back home, his hands brushed against a small paperback.

The cover was tattered and pages dogeared and a little note on the inside cover from someone he could only guess at being your grandmother telling you how this was her favorite story as a young girl and how she hopes you love it as much as she did. It was clear that you loved it as much as she had hoped as his eyes trailed over sections you had underlined and the little notations you’d made in the margins, it was like a window into your soul as he found the first page a started to read aloud to you in that quite hospital room.

“There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out of the question.” His voice thick with exhaustion and emotion as he read. He read to you throughout the night and into the next day.

Your heart monitor flatlined just as the story ended and Jane and Mr Rochester were reunited. Even though the doctors and nurses said you probably hadn’t heard anything, he liked to think you’d held on long enough to hear him finally finish your favourite book.

Days later Ghost found himself standing at the front of the large crowd of mourners, surrounded by colleagues and friends alike as they lowered your coffin into the ground. He couldn’t move as the others dispersed, your younger brother clapping him on the shoulder as he passed by. Price had stayed with him, Gaz and Soap stood close behind, giving them a moment.

“Did you tell her?” Price had asked him.

“Tell her what?” He muttered, watching as they filled in your grave.

“That you loved her” Price murmured, chewing on the end of his cigar.

“No” he shook his head. “Didn’t get the chance”

“She knew, lad, she knew” Price sighed, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

She does now, he thought as he absentmindedly scratched at his chest. The sandiderm covering the fresh tattoo itched like crazy underneath his suit. The simple line-work done immediately after your passing, your favourite quote, directly over his heart: "I am no bird; and no net ensnares me”

List of books mentioned:

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah

Can’t Hurt Me by David Goggins

Haunting Adeline by H. D Carlton

Devil In The White City by Erik Larson

Master and Commander by Patrick O’Brian

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

#ghost riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader angst #ghost core #gpdrecs writing challenge #Ghost Challenge #I kind of broke my own heart with this one #here there be angst

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exeggcute · 2 months ago

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interesting links roundup #9

>>> permalink <<<

reading

After Authenticity

Are overdoses down and why?

Asleep at the Wheel in the Headlight Brightness Wars

Chronic Pain Is a Hidden Epidemic. It’s Time for a Revolution.

A Day in the Life of a Prolific Voice Phishing Crew

The deep ocean photographer that captured a 'living fossil'

The Forgotten—and Incredibly Important—History of the Abortion Pill

From TED To PERNOCTATED, Scrabble’s Best Player Knows No Limits

Good-bye, Pamela Paul

How the Capybara Won My Heart—and Almost Everyone Else’s

The Impact of Jungle Music in 90s Video Game Development

It’s Safer in the Front: Taking the Offensive against Tyranny

The Leaning Tower of New York

Let’s talk about bird tongues

The LLMentalist Effect: how chat-based Large Language Models replicate the mechanisms of a psychic’s con

Many of the Pokemon playtest cards were likely printed in 2024

The Next Drug Epidemic Is Blue Raspberry Flavored

NPR shopped for 96 items at Walmart to track how prices are really changing

On Development: The cloud is made of concrete

One election takeaway: voters hate temporary safety nets

People With Parents With Money

Real datacenter emissions are a dirty secret

The Secret History of Risotto

The Spectacular Burnout of a Solar Panel Salesman

Taking a closer look at AI’s supposed energy apocalypse

The Untold Story of Silk Road, Part 1 (+ Part 2)

What Happened When America Emptied Its Youth Prisons

2,000-year-old wine and the uncanny immediacy of the past

tools/reference

How to Stop Hiccups

The Old Family Photos Project: Lessons in creating family photos that people want to keep

Simple Sabotage Field Manual

Three Hundred [Game] Mechanics

other

Bluesky 2024 Moderation Report

Guédelon

The Most Unwanted Song (YouTube)

Stimulation Clicker

sup

#interesting links

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zaddizu · 1 month ago

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𝓐LL ABOUT MY WAITING ROOM .ᐟ

❀ . . . a mix of forest and beach; isn't it perfect?

my house ۶ৎ

living alone in a huge house by the beach is basically a dream. not only this, but the lush green of a backyard is even better.

★ tons of those net things because, frankly, i'm in love with them.

the backyard ۶ৎ

toucans and other cool birds are a daily occurrence. why? because i said so. and toucans are bloody awesome. there’s a hidden waterhole deep in the forest.

★ ok.. its a rainforest that doesn't constantly rain. i don't know, i'm still working on it

the frontyard ۶ৎ

a private beach all to myself. of course, theres a public one a little while away, but they’re separated by rocks and no one comes to my side. clear waters, turtles, and rock pools.

★ theres an açaí bowl place on the public beach!! they also sell smoothies and juice. they're affordable because in my drs shit isn't crazily priced.

it appears i've run out of images! ill do a part 2 right after i post this, don't worry you awesome people (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

part 2 can be accessed here

#ziggz dr intros ★#waiting room #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting #shifting community #desired reality #shifters #shifting realities #shifting blog #waiting room dr #dr intro

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thedevillovesflowers · 1 year ago

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Angels +Plot 🪽🪽🪽

Call of Duty AU

In this AU, there are many beasts but angels are the ultimate prize to capture or hunt.

Angels are not the heavenly beings you read about in bibles but rather they are a type of humanoid with the capability of flight, long lifespans, and the believed healing powers.

Angels are extremely rare creatures to spot. They are known to live solitary lives, however it has been documented they might live with exception of small families/groups.

Angels are omnivores. And can see in the dark. Most prefer to fly at night so they won’t be seen by humans.

Angels can come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. Their wingspans vary depending on their height. There are also subspecies of angels.

Angels wing colours/patterns vary on the regions they reside in (think of owls and other birds of prey). For vanity, some angels will paint the tips of their wings to attract a mate.

Feathers are apparent on various parts of their bodies, legs, arms, chest, face etc. Braiding, preening, beads in the hair are comfort acts angels do, and to also show affection for one another.

Facial feathers are small, usually appearing on the forehead, cheeks, nose and chin.

Angels are either described as beautiful creatures, or terrifying ones, depending on who you ask.

Kingdoms would hire mercenaries to hunt down rare beasts to hang up for display, profit, or for pets.

But no one has ever captured an angel. Not yet. But then, a powerful king (Shepard) put together a campaign to capture one, he hired the 141 along with his own general, Graves (and his shadow company) to do the task. What the 141 doesn’t know, is that the king is dying of old age, he believes that capturing and killing an angel and using their blood will grant him long life and youth.

141 has slain/captured many beasts in their careers, so getting an angel was a challenge they were willing to take. I know this seems cruel of them, but in this AU they start off as thinking their helping people out by getting rid of beasts, but they’ll soon learn that what they’re doing is actually harmful.

The reader is an angel, living with their family in the mountains and caves.

One night, the reader set out to retrieve food, until she was shot down by a net the 141 cast, severely damaging her wing. And her family had to flee, leaving the reader behind sadly.

While graves and his men hung back, price, Gaz, soap and ghost went ahead to investigate.

Ghost went first, sword drawn, slowly rounding to the forest’s opening to where you laid. Rope held tightly over your body, one of your wings was cut and broken. You were unconscious, facing away from him. There was feathers strewn about everywhere, and as ghost came closer and walked around to see you clearly, he suddenly halted dead in his tracks, a terrible feeling pinched in his stomach….

You were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

(This is just an idea for now, I might draw this.)

#call of duty #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #art #simon ghost riley #soap mw2 #gaz mw2 #price mw2 #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #simon ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost mwii #mw2 #cod mw soap #cod mw ghost #call of duty mwii

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not-available-for-comment · 2 years ago

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As Twitter finishes burning to the ground, I'm going to take a minute to plug one of the artisans I've been following there. The person behind OiShiny is disabled and queer, and he makes really lovely wire-wrapped pendants for very reasonable prices. I have a few of his egg nest pendants and one wire-wrapped, and its my goal to someday get one of his tentacled labradorite pendants (or see if I can commission him to make one of carnelian, which I had my eye on during the pandemic but couldn't afford to get).

He doesn't know I'm doing this plug, but I'm sure having Twitter disappear is scary for him and he's a lovely and talented person. Link and a few example images below.

One of his full-size tentacled pendants in labradorite

A selection of "treat-sized" small net-wrapped pendant in various shades of laboradite, ranging from pale green through amethyst, dark blue, and blue-gold

One of my bird's nest pendants

#oi shiny #jewelry #queer creators #pendants #labradorite #wire wrapped pendant #disability pride month #rocky rambles

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networksbirdnetsolutions · 23 days ago

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bonne-chanson · 2 months ago

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a/n: surprise surprise !! this wasn’t on the list nor was it requested, i just rlly need to get this off my chest. ik i said i won’t do anything so personally vulnerable on here (and that i don’t want any of that either in my inbox) but i just need to let this out in the safest possible way i can and know how to. this is really more on the reader than it is on nikolai

the lark ascending

✑ character/s: nikolai gogol x reader

✑ short desc: there’s something so inherently cruel about regularly clipping a bird’s wings for the sole purpose of keeping them close to the ground (based on vaughn williams’ composition of the same name).

✑ content includes: one shot ; angst ; comfort fic ; established relationship ; a lot of self-projection, no beta, this was all written in one go ; may be ooc nikolai ; heavy trigger warning for descriptions of depression, maladaptive daydreaming, self-harm, and strained familial bonds

✑ word count: 2.3k words

By nature, it is in every bird’s birthright to fly — to feel the wind beneath their wings, to cut through currents in the air, and to feel nothing grounding their feet.

And as is with every bird meant for the sky, you were also born with the birthright to live as you pleased.

From the very moment you had opened your eyes to the rest of the world as an infant, the rest of your future had already been decided for you. It was only right that your parents would give you a certain set of rules and values to abide by — they were your guiding lights in life, after all (or so they told you). Where would their beloved child be if not for their directions? They were the ones responsible for giving you life (not that you ever asked for it in the first place), for showering you with the kind of privileges that others could only dream of (you were never able to fit in because everything just had to be tailored to you), and for providing you with the kind of safety net so many people your age would go to hell and back for (yet the net binds your limbs in the process, never letting you go).

That feeling of guilt and the burden of a heavy debt towards them never left you, and for life, it would stay. They were only being protective, after all — they just love you so much, the thought of seeing you break at any point in your life would hurt them tenfold, they said. Of course, the price they had to pay to keep you in your most pristine condition (rather, the price you were groomed to pay) was your loyalty.

(The refusal to acknowledge the behaviors of your own mother and father toward you will always be there. Family is still family, as they say.)

Your wings were clipped as early as possible so that you would have never known what the cool breeze against your face would feel like, and thus, you would never learn to crave it.

By nature, it is in every bird’s birthright to fly, but that birthright was taken away from you the moment you were born.

You were meant to stay in a cage forever, or at the very least, fly low enough for your feet to keep touching the ground.

Most days, you’d stay cooped up in the comfort of your own room (your birdcage), and the routine was always the same — wake up, eat breakfast, do your work and whatever needs to be done for the morning and afternoon, take a bath, entertain yourself for a bit with whatever you have laying around, but you would almost always never come out of the confines of the four walls you had grown accustomed to. Your childhood bedroom slowly began to close in on you over time, but no matter how many times you’d plead to your parents to let you go, the request would always be shut down by a heated argument ending with the same phrase again and again:

“What do you know about the rest of the world?”

And you would retreat back into the nest of a bed you’d made for yourself because they were right and there was no other place for you outside of the one built specifically to keep you in, safe and sound. What would a caged animal, domesticated to bury its own instincts, know about what the world is like outside the enclosure it had grown up in? Every attempt spent trying to do things by yourself was either criticized heavily to the point where it became something you never tried again or they were condemned so terribly that someone else would have to take over entirely for you.

You would never learn, not because you never had the capability to, but because no one ever let you.

On most days, you would spend your time daydreaming. You would daydream so much that any lines between memories and whatever little imaginations you could come up with in your head would blur so terribly that reality was something you eventually became afraid of. You didn't know when it happened, and perhaps it was just the gradual familiarity of it all that you grew accustomed to, but at some point, you began to prefer whatever scenes and characters you could conjure up in your head over the mundanity of whatever you could touch.

Music was one way for you to keep your head busy and pass the time, whiling the hours away without much thought to productivity or responsibility while the all the different colorful sounds gave life to all the scenarios and characters you had in your head because goodness, the comfort of imagining all sorts of things you knew you'd never be able to do in your lifetime with all the restrictions you were imposed with became a drug to you.

Before you knew it, you had caged yourself in your own head in an attempt to find an escape from the actual cage you were in.

Your delusions were just so warm and inviting and freeing, allowing you to breathe without the kind of heaviness that you would often find yourself asphyxiating by.

Yet every now and then, the comfort of your own head wouldn't be enough to satisfy the desperate need to escape — the one that would always claw at the depths of your chest, almost as if trying to rip apart your flesh from your insides just to give itself some room to settle (you never gave it permission to, whether it was because your parents had planted their words so deeply into the crevices of your brain or because you didn't have the energy to give it the room it so desires, and that's exactly why it always hurts).

"It's almost sunrise now, you know," a familiar voice behind you speaks so softly, trying to blend his voice in with the gentle rustling of the leaves and the grass.

You turn to face none other than Nikolai, a friend you'd made out of nowhere one day when trying to ground yourself in your own body again after a numbing argument with your parents. Between daydreams and the idle passing of time, you'd long forgotten what your first meeting was like with one another or even how you came to meet, but his presence became a constant in your life, and it was the one piece of reality you'd be willing to get out of your own head for.

And before you knew it, over time, he had managed to worm his way into your calloused heart.

He takes a seat beside you as you lay still on the rooftop of your house — a secret meeting place you'd both silently agreed to hang around in every other night from the late hours of the evening to the early colors of dawn.

You shrug in response, not having much else to say, and the two of you share in a comfortable silence before he speaks up again. Normally, he'd be all jokes and jests, telling you stories about his "friends" (Fyodor and Sigma, as you remember, although by the way he describes them and their personalities, they didn't really seem too fond of Nikolai's rather extroverted personality), but he wasn't as stupid as he made himself out to be for fun a lot of the time and it was exactly why he could keep up with Fyodor when the situation called for it — right now, he knew that you needed company more than you did a silly jab.

"...Kolya," you call, the slow rays of the sun brushing over the horizon before you with gentle shades of purples and oranges, "what's it like to not be tied down to anything?"

He's quiet for a good moment, staring down at you while your gaze followed the movements of the colors that danced along the sky.

And then he answers as honestly as he can, "...Disorienting. Freeing, but you don't really know where to go."

"Is it scary?"

"...Sometimes."

Again, the silence visits the both of you. Neither you nor Nikolai make the effort to force any sentences into the ongoing conversation. Now was not the time for that.

So, only when you are ready do you decide to talk again.

"...It feels like... like I've grown so used to being trapped in here that I don't really mind it as much anymore." A shaky breath leaves your lips as you continue. "I want to get out of... whatever this is, I really do. This cycle feels so numbingly overwhelming. But I can't do anything by myself, I've grown too scared of not the possibility of not having anything to come back to or just freeing myself while having no direction whatsoever, I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing— I had ambitions I wanted to chase after, but the constant fight for it that my hellish reality requires from me has become so tiring over time that I think I'm slowly giving up and, well... my head just feels like the safest escape I can have for myself now."

An empty shell of a person you became, because no one ever allowed you the freedom to grow into the human being you deserved to be.

He purses his lip and scoots closer to you as you sit up to pull your knees to your chest and rest your head in your arms. "But that head of yours is still as terrible of a cage as it is the one you grew up with."

You can't bring yourself to admit that he's right, because then that would mean that nothing in your life had ever gone right, including your grown habit of finding comfort in your busy thoughts and daydreams. And he knows that, so he doesn't push.

Instead, he wraps his cape around you both. It's a sweet gesture, and compared to the deluding imaginations you drug yourself with most of the time and your childhood bedroom-turned-prison, him enclosing you in the warmth of his cape doesn't feel constricting at all. The feeling of having another human being sit with you when it's as though you've been desensitized to everything else around you is grounding — the numbness is still there, but that numbness cuts itself in half when shared with him, much the same way your little moments of joy (very few and far between nowadays) are doubled when he walks through them with you.

"You're not like me," he tells you, his voice simmering down into something of a soft murmur as you lay your head on his shoulder. "In time, when you decide to brave yourself enough to get out of your own head, I'm sure the world will treat you kinder than it did to I."

He pauses for a good moment, taking a good look at your face while the light begins to illuminate each contour, all the way from your eyelids to the apples of your cheeks and the curve of your chin, and even the self-inflicted scars littered all over your arms from all the days where you felt your only escape would be death.

Nikolai considered himself a free being (well, almost), undeterred by the restraints of both the internal and the external, but he'd long since accepted the fact that you made it difficult for him to choose between his own hedonistic tendencies versus you.

(You don't know it yet, but someday, he'll decide that he finds more of that light-hearted feeling in the freedom of choosing to be with you instead of the freedom of choosing to detach himself completely from every worldly thing he can think of.)

The two of you stay as you are, watching the sun rise and a lone lark in the middle of the stretched fields begin to take flight. Its wings flutter about for a good moment before it begins to flap with the intent of gathering some of the passing winds to support itself, every now and then stuttering in its captivating glide while it slowly but surely lifts itself into the air.

When its ascent is complete and it remains in the sky with its wings freely spread out, floating aimlessly as it relishes in the early morning light of the warm sun, you find yourself in awe, but you can't help the tears that wet your lashes and roll down your cheeks from the burning envy you feel.

It's pathetic, being jealous of something so small and so innocent, but to see a bird bask itself in something that was taken from you so early on in life makes your heart ache with the kind of pain that no amount of healing could ever fully take away — you're sure of it.

"I want that for myself, too." Your voice comes out as something so broken that he pulls you in closer to kiss your temple, letting it linger for a bit before pulling away to nuzzle his nose into your hair.

"I know." And you know he knows because it's something he's also wanted for the longest time, now no longer just for himself, but for you as well. "I know... Me, too..."

By nature, it is in every bird’s birthright to fly — to feel the wind beneath their wings, to cut through currents in the air, and to feel nothing grounding their feet. And although you were robbed of that birthright from a very early age, wings clipped with the purpose of training you to never crave for the kind of flight every other bird was so blessed to experience, the hope of regrowing the feathers you've never seen in full never left you.

Instinct and nature triumph over forced domestication, after all.

Maybe one day, you'll find yourself quick enough to flap your wings before anyone else can trim them again.

a/n: where i'm from, we have a term in our language for an internal debt of sorts, usually out of gratitude, but that debt makes it so that every relationship you have is contractual, and it's what makes it difficult for us to detach ourselves from even the most draining relationships with others — including family. nikolai actually isn’t in my list of favorites but he is def someone i would want to sit down and have a heart-to-heart with. i think there’d be at least some semblance of mutual understanding between us even if it does end in bloodshed (not his blood tho) lmao

the lark ascending is a piece for the solo violin accompanied by an orchestra composed by ralph vaughn williams. i used to listen to it a lot when i was in my early teens (maybe around 12 or 13?) and it’s become a staple in my repertoire ever since (i’ve yet to actually get around to studying it). back then, i’ve always thought of it as something so meditative and soothing, but now i can only associate it with a hollow kind of sorrow that i can’t exactly put into words. someday, i’d very much like to experience being that lark that vaughn williams wrote an entire piece about.

a/n: man sometimes i wish certain characters were real. i have a pet bird — she is a very sweet parrot. i sometimes wonder if she thinks about the same things i do

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #anime #manga #anime and manga #bsd #decay of angels #nikolai gogol #bsd nikolai #nikolai x reader #bsd nikolai x reader #comfort #angst

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animalsalvationassociation · 3 months ago

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A.S.A. Octonauts Headcanons:

Pt. 8 — Professor Inkling:

Theodore Arthur Inkling was born and raised in the deep waters of the Atlantic ocean. Due to the nature of his species, he once had many thousands of brothers and sisters. Once.

Growing up he only knew a few of his family members, His sister Rosemary, his Grandfather, and his mother. There were others but they never stuck around too long to properly know one another.

Rosemary was his only friend and companion, when they hatched the pair set out together, neither of them wanting to be alone.

Theo only knew his grandfather because he lived near where Inkling and Rose hunted. Their mother was there when they hatched but it wasn’t very often they saw her.

Their grandfather was a very grumpy fellow who spent little time with anyone, but over some odd years he got used to seeing Theo and Rose, sometimes even inviting them over for the evenings. (Of course nighttime in the “Midnight Zone” worked a little differently to ours, but we won’t get into that. It was also very dangerous to be out late and he pitied them)

When Theo was still very young he fell into a heavy underwater current and was swept far away from home. When he came to, he found himself washed up in a tidepool unable to escape. Even if he were to get out he’d have to flee across the shore without getting snatched up by birds or a hungry predator, then there was the matter of which direction he was meant to go.

Understandably, he was quite upset. Seeing no way out Theo just waited (albeit very teary eyed, seeing as he was still pretty young).

The universe must’ve heard him because a little while later there was a curious young girl who showed up and offered to help him. He was startled of course, thinking she would eat him but she quickly assured him that wasn’t true at all.

Her name was Samara, a young Burmese Python that would later become one of his closest friends.

(Although he first introduced himself as Theodore he asked her to call him Arthur. He liked the name a lot better and that’s what his sister would call him. Samara did the same, asking him to refer to her as Sam.)

Sam was very kind and borrowed her father’s book of maps to show him the way to the deep ocean. They said goodbye, with a small parting gift from Sam (a small bracelet made of shells and beads)

Arthur followed her directions, swimming far from the English Channel (where he washed up) to the open ocean. But his journey was far from over.

He was nearly scott-free when suddenly he was swept up in a massive net! A fishing boat had accidentally swept him up alongside their catch of cod. He was lucky to be as small as he was and after some odd minutes of struggling he managed to slide between the mesh just as the net was being heaved onboard.

The next day Sam found him in that same tidepool, in the very same state she had met him in. He told her what he had seen, and Samara was forced to explain her world to him.

Back then, the surface was much different to how it is now. Boats overfished, the shores were crowded with garbage, and factories filled the water with toxic chemicals, poisoning not only the ecosystems but the people as well.

For years the price of housing had gotten higher with wages staggering, people had been forced to the streets, some even traveling to the countryside where the air was at least a little cleaner.

Arthur was horrified and even Sam agreed that it was no way to live. Even children could see how sad the world had become.

That’s what started it all. A single spark of fear and Inkling knew that he couldn’t just leave. He missed his sister and grandfather of course but this was bigger than them. This was bigger than the whole ocean! This was the world they were talking about!

He wanted to fix this, not just for the fish but for the surface dwellers as well. Everyone deserved clean air and water, a place to sleep at night, food to eat. Why should they have to settle?

It began with a pact between two friends. They would start small. Arthur and Sam were still kids, no one would listen to them unless they showed everyone how much they cared.

So they made arrangements. In order to help they had to learn. Sam would go off to school and they would meet a few times each month to study together. Arthur couldn’t go to school so it was Sam’s job to make sure they learned alongside one another.

She brought home books, tests, and pictures. Anything that got him to see what they could really accomplish.

In their time together they scoured beaches and shorelines, with every visit the pair of them did whatever they could to keep their home clean.

When they grew older their traditions continued, they had to. Sam’s father even joined in sometimes, escorting them to places they usually couldn’t go.

(Sometimes Sam would even put Inkling in a tank on a little wagon and run around the shops with him trailing behind. It was the best years of their life.)

Finally school was over and Inkling had not only excelled in Sam’s studies but had found new ways to find information. (He would even go on to teach both his sister and grandfather everything he knew)

But even with school ending, Inkling didn’t want to stop. He wanted to have a full education experience.

Sam loved her friend dearly and knew if their plan was going to work, she had to put her life and education on the line. With Inkling’s encouragement Samara applied to several different schools and once she was accepted and invited to tour the grounds she took Inkling with her.

It was difficult for sure. She applied to dozens of schools, but no one could understand the lengths Sam and Arthur would go to to even get him into a classroom. That was until they met Professor Lwazi Ntuli.

Headmaster at the time, Ntuli was a large creature with a massive heart, and he saw Arthur for what he was, a person. Luckily for Arthur, Ntuli was not only the headmaster of a renowned school, but an inventor too, and he had been working on something that would change the world.

Ntuli saw their potential and was able to give both of them a full ride scholarship. In return both of them would help him reach out to students all across the globe.

Ntuli began to finetune the creation of his specialized suits (thanks to Arthur) for creatures who otherwise wouldn’t be able to breathe/function in places that weren’t their natural territory. And to test them they were given out to those who earned scholarships from out of the way places such as the Arctic, Antarctic, the seas/ocean, etc.

In their college years Arthur and Sam found people who were just like them. Students who needed a community, a village. That’s how they met many of their life long friends.

Arthur found Peggy Scratch, a young woman who had basically given up on everything. If it wasn’t for Arthur she wouldn’t have found her safety net.

Marin Kelp was another person they accepted, closely followed by a young Julias Copper. Marin had a hearty laugh and a strong resolve, he cared about people in ways others struggled to. Always the wing-man, and a bit of a lug-nut when he wanted to be.

Julias himself was a quiet fellow, keeping to himself most of the time. A gruff exterior but was always ready to throw out a well meaning joke to combat others.

All five of them graduated together, and in turn that allowed Sam/Arthur’s plan to evolve. Since it was no longer just the two of them they needed to expand. That’s when Marin had the brilliant idea to create something that helped people all across the world. Ntuli did it with his suits, even cities like Zootopia (a largely populated city, famous for its integration of new technology and efforts towards renewable energy) had begun to change how their city was structured, allowing all kinds of creatures to live there.

They called it the Animal Salvation Association. And after all those years, Sam and Arthur were finally able to fulfill their promise to one another.

Family:

Despite how grouse he was, his grandfather (Ballard) was a good man and a great neighbor. He was the kind of guy that would make an off handed comment about the shingles on your roof or your gutter right before work, and when you’d come home you’d find him fixing whatever was wrong.

With every year that passed Ballard found acceptance with his grandchildren. The three of them worked hard to survive, helping one another whenever they could.

Ballard learned how to read and write (from Arthur of course) a lot quicker than Rosemary ever did. He would go on to publish several books before his passing.

It wasn’t until Arthur was much older that he learned about his Great-Grandfather Averill who was the first ocean/sea creature to write a book. He wasn’t able to learn much except what Ballard had shown him by giving Arthur Averill’s journal.

It turns out Averill had met a lighthouse keeper many years into his young adult life and became good friends with. That friend would go on to teach Averill how to read and write, how to calculate math equations, and even learn to document the world below the water’s surface.

Rosemary on the other hand lived quieter than her brother ever did. She kept to herself but had such a kind heart. She was the only one who could combat her grandfather’s grouchy comments.

She lived well into her adult life, even having several of her own children, including her son Squirt who Arthur was always very fond of. Unfortunately one summer Rose vanished without a trace. Not even Ballard, who had shared his home with her, knew where she had gone.

They searched everywhere for her but to no avail.

Squirt himself lives on the reef where his great grandfather once did. He’s still rather young but he’s learned how to take care of himself well enough. Although that never really stopped Arthur from worrying.

The Inkling family has many other relatives that we see within the show, most of them are distant cousins like Irving. But no matter how far they are on the tree, they’ll always be his family.

Fun Facts:

FaV cOlOr isssssss Cyan?? Teal?? Whatever color his chair is.

He’s sooooooooooo got a crush on Min!

He met Min when the A.S.A. was first being established. He really has a knack for getting stuck in places. (I was never able to watch this episode but apparently he quote, “ Got stuck clinging to bamboo after a storm and Min saved him by carrying him down.”

So . . . Strong wife.

*Starts Chanting* InKy! iNkY! InKy!

Inkling's hobbies include: Reading the newspaper, eating muffins, drinking coffee/high tea, doing research on the Octo-net, blowing bubbles out a pipe, reading in the library, eating sandwiches, dusting his books' dust jackets, baking pies, climbing the playground's jungle gym, studying his travel guide and maps, leading games of Oceans & Ogres (the in-universe Dungeons & Dragons/DnD), reading to the Vegimals, and listening to music on his record player (or “Fish Sounds”). Majority are exclusive to the books. [ Source: Octo-Wiki ]

Inkling’s fav kelp cake is Sauerkraut??? (Also from the wiki . . . dude why)

Fav gup . . . the Octopod . . . No comment

Well actually yes. Comment. And subscribe!

Squirt is 100% on the Junior Octo-Agents and I feel horrible for not adding him to the line up, he LITERALLY in ONE episode! I’M SOWWYYYYY!!!! I’LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN I SWEARRRRR!!!!!

Who could forget Mortimer the Mimic Octopus??? Apparently I can . . .

Harry the Harbor Seal is also on my list of “oopsie i forgor”

(Idk if it was Harry who was friends/allies with Inkling or Barnacles?? But he seems more of an Inkling friend than a Barnacles one. Although who am I to say? Barnacles can be friends with whoever he wants)

Inkling is the Co-Founder of the Octonauts ~ Who’s the other founder?? Samara ofc duhhh

(Actually no that was rude, ya’ll probably didn’t pick up on the hints I left in my other posts. My bad.)

Mustache.

Monocle.

Grimoteuthis.

Fish Biscuits.

That’s all I have.

(I apologize to my friend @calamaroo for keeping her waiting on this post. I am a terribly slow over-writer, I am so sorry.)

The Inklings:

Averill (Great-Grandfather), Ballard (Grandfather), (Mother’s name unknown), Theodore Arthur, Rosemary (Sister), Squirt (Nephew), Cousin Irving, Literally every Octopus/Squid in the entire ocean.

Other Headcanons . . .

Captain Barnacles ( 1 / 2 ) / Kwazii / Peso / Dashi / Tweak / Shellington / The Vegimals

[ This is a Octonauts AU, in no way is this canon to the OG storyline. ]

#octonauts #octonauts story #octonauts above and beyond #octonauts the asa #octonauts professor inkling #professor inkling redesign #professor inkling #octonauts headcanon #octonauts headcanons

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kedreeva · 9 months ago

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Hi! I went through your FAQ and didn't see a direct answer this this, but how do you go about actually obtaining a peafowl? How much do they usually cost per bird?

Up front, I can only speak to USA practices, so if you live elsewhere the answer may not be the same.

I'll answer the second part first since it's "easier," or maybe I should say, slightly more concrete, and the answer is: it depends on what you want, and how capable you are of caring for it. I have seen day old blues from backyard breeders go for as little as $15, but unless you really have a handle on what to expect and how to care for them, you will almost certainly be responsible for the death of a day old peachick and waste the money. I have watched an online auction for an ultramarine yearling go for $6,800, but that's because that was a newly imported color from Europe that no one else had. A green - a true, pure green, not an American green that's actually a high green blood hybrid - will run you $5-10k depending on where you import from or who you're buying from that's imported themselves and tracked lineage. An American green will still run you a couple thousand, but more like $2k than $6k. Your average adult blue will run $80-200, but I've watched blue hens go for $400 at auction. Color/pattern mutations will run $150-800 typically, for "common" colors, depending on their quality and whether they're a nice looking hybrid (blue + green species), but I've seen nice morphs go for $35 at auction. I say this because auctions can be great on some days and terrible on others and you would need to know average prices for the color and/or pattern you want, to know if you're getting a deal or getting hosed.

But regardless of a $15 chick or an $800 silver pied platinum Spalding, the expense on them actually comes mainly from the cage- the minimum (and I do mean minimum literally not pretty owners of YouTube outrageous claim of minimum), flight pen size is 500 square feet with no side shorter than 12 feet long (to accommodate trains and allow the birds past you without injuring themselves, and 8 feet tall to allow for a 5-6 perch the males can get on to clean their trains. Every bird must also have 150sq/ft, so 500 will hold 3, but not 4, you'd need 600 for 4. But with peafowl, bigger is better- the more space they have to move around (and thus away from you) the closer they are willing to come to you, because they feel like they can safely get away again. The minimum size is also not optional if you want to maintain healthy birds- they're extremely susceptible to parasites and bacteria often found in raw soil, and even to just... Getting dirt in their face and getting infected sinuses. Minimizing their ability to access dirt by growing in grass and cover crop plants like clover is the single greatest step you can take to protect their health. And this doesn't even include the coop, which is minimum 8x8x6 to protect them and their trains. With the price of lumber, wire, and netting, this will easily run you a few thousand, but it's by far the safest way to keep them, especially the hens, who otherwise tend to get eaten by predators when they set a nest while free ranging. It's also the only way to ensure they don't just leave, because they are game fowl like pheasants, not like chickens, and you can't just toss them in the yard and expect they'll stay. Occasionally they do, but largely they don't.

To answer your first question... It depends on where you live. Most USA states have livestock auctions and bird swap meets- your best bet to acquire local birds is to find those but how to find them... Well. You kind of just have to luck upon them or hope a web search turns them up, if they're even advertised online, on publicly accessible places. There are bigger breeders around the USA that will ship birds if you're looking for something specific you can't find locally, but you'll be looking at a $350+ shipping bill. You can join peafowl groups on Facebook and try to find locals, or contact the UPA (United peafowl association) to get a breeder directory but that's only people who have paid to be in the club, which honestly doesn't do much anymore. You can also, if you know of one breeder, ask if they know other breeders. A good breeder should at least be able to say 'if I don't have what you're looking for, you can try this other person/people.' alternately there's ebay and craigslist, although I wouldn't trust the former because you can only sell eggs, and peafowl hatching eggs are a big fucking waste of money, typically speaking. They're extremely finicky eggs to hatch and most people prefer to let broodies hatch when they can, because they don't hatch well in incubators.

#peafowl #asks #anon asks

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burningvelvet · 1 year ago

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Just realized that today was the 176th birthday of Charlotte Brontë's novel Jane Eyre (1847)! Here are some of it's best quotes to celebrate:

"I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.”

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.”

“Even for me life had its gleams of sunshine.”

“I remembered that the real world was wide, and that a varied field of hopes and fears, of sensations and excitements, awaited those who had the courage to go forth into it's expanse, to seek real knowledge of life amidst it's perils.”

“Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive.”

#jane eyre #charlotte brontë #literature #english literature #novel #novels #book #books #birthday #trivia #lit #quotes #book quotes

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darkmaga-returns · 4 months ago

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It will come as no surprise to learn that Bill Gates and Jeff Bezos have invested heavily in “climate vaccines“.

The pair are bankrolling the development of a vaccine designed to reduce the methane produced by cattle.

In the video below Josh Sigurdson of World alternative Media reports on how they are pushing this latest agenda:

“Jeff Bezos’ “Earth Fund” is attempting to do something Bill Gates has also been investing in for years. So-called “vaccines” that stop cows from emitting gas. Of course this is simply an excuse to inject cows with mysterious poisons which then end up being fed to the masses. These injections are the latest example of the “poisoning of the well” as we also see the push for mRNA Bird Flu “vaccines” in the food supply.

This latest story once again correlates the World Economic Forum’s goal of net zero with the Covid hoax as the WEF openly stated in 2022 that “Covid” was a test for compliance to bring in climate policies and 15 Minute Cities.

Recently, the United Nations Pact For The Future was signed by 193 countries and includes the net zero agenda, the eventual banning of meat, the shuttering of bank accounts if you say negative things about the establishment online and the integration of carbon credits attached to your bank account.

As we see weather modification across the board causing disasters, as we see the war on farmers, as we see the push for both World War 3 and Civil War which would allow the state to bring in emergency orders while destroying the supply chain, as we see the mass culling of animals under the guise of “Bird Flu,” as we see inflation driving food prices up, it’s blatantly clear the direction they’re leading us to. The destruction of the supply chain, the poisoning of what is left and the enforcement of rations on digital IDs. The global technocracy nears more every day.

We are witnessing mass death from the “Covid vaccines” and as more is exposed about the hoax, we’re being hit by a dozen other things to not only distract us but keep people in a perpetual state of fear so that the culprits themselves can come in and pretend to be a “solution.”

The solution is you. Reject the system. Withdraw from the system. Build your own, grow your own, stock up and exit the global financial system as much as possible.”

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hopefullymobius · 1 month ago

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I’ve been reblogging some anti-Musk things (as we all have) and an account with “liberal” in its name popped up on my dash at some point, also showing strong anti-Musk sentiments. There was one post they made that I wanted to reblog, but the word “liberal” in the blog name stopped me- and upon seeing the immediate next post they made on my dash I was proven correct in my next action (which was to block that account).

They made a post that mentioned that there have been many calls made to ICE to report Elon Musk as an illegal immigrant to the United States because when he immigrated here, he did his work (theft) illegally. The post mentioned that Melania Trump is also “illegal”.

And that’s my issue with liberals- they do this puddle-deep thinking that’s more concerned with letting out their own frustrations rather than doing anything helpful, productive or progressive.

ICE and the people at the head of American government do not give a fuck if people are immigrating here illegally. They care about power and money grabbing through racism, which is something they have always done. Every study made on immigrants- seasonal or permanent- has shown that they (we! I’m an immigrant too!) are a net positive on both American finances and American culture. We all know that “illegal immigrants are stealing your tax money” is a lie used to justify cutting spending on public aid so people like Musk get personally richer. ICE is a terrorist organization whose job is the same as any other cop’s in this country- to protect the interest and property of the ruling class, which Elon and Melania are a part of.

Calling ICE o ANYONE, even if you don’t personally like them, is NAZI BEHAVIOR. it’s not praxis, it’s not useful, it doesn’t help the immigrants being affected by its violence, all it does is make you personally feel like you did a “gotcha” while fully knowing that it will have no effect on the ruling class. People are calling ICE on musk and Melania as a way to feel good about themselves, using the state’s tools of violence.

The goal is to ELIMINATE ICE, not use it in ways that you personably find justified. This is something a lot of liberals and other center-leaning political ideologies fail to grasp time and time again- the point of participating in politics isn’t to do the stuff that makes you feel good. It’s to do what’s useful, and ultimately that means showing a lot of restraint in the side of you that wants to use the enemy’s tools on the enemy. Calling ICE and trying to use its services is justifying its existence. KNOCK IT OFF.

Also the blog’s banner said that if Kamala won egg prices wouldn’t surge or something along those lines which also points to how liberals are just as allergic as conservatives to things like accurate information about diseases and how they spread. Liberals are often just as bad as any right wing person about things like COVID and bird flu.

#I wanted to write this out on the actual post they reblogged but I’m not spreading bullshit around #that’s the biggest lesson I got from Twitter lmao #u.s. politics #elon musk #ice #liberals #immigration #andytalk

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