#learned about pigeons/doves

[ah-bright-wings]

The Garden - A Holy Saturday Story

A night wind rustles through the garden. Acacius shifts his feet, eyes following the bounce of a tree branch, though no night creature disturbs it. The sky is empty of clouds, leaving the moon silver and naked. The faint blush of dawn touches the horizon. Acacius feels his back touch the stone behind him and he straightens himself.

“Have you noticed,” he says sideways to Longinus—who alone remains awake while the other two in their guard sleep, rotations completed—“that you can’t hear any insects?”

Longinus doesn’t respond. When Acacius turns his head, he sees the man’s face is set, eyes unfocused. He’s on his back, one hand behind his head, the other on his belly, calloused fingers curled. His thumb taps an unsteady rhythm.

“Longinus,” Acacius says, and the man finally looks over, though for a moment only.

“Hercules died,” he says.

“…Hercules.”

“He was a demigod. He died. So, the sons of gods can die.”

Acacius’ grip tightens on his spear. “You’re speaking of the Nazarene.”

“Who else could I speak of?”

It’s not a biting retort, but an earnest one. Longinus has not spoken since they left Golgotha. Now, his voice is quiet, gruff. Uneasy. The brush rustles, and Acacius’ head snaps towards it. Longinus doesn’t flinch. His eyes remain fixed upwards.

“Are his followers really stupid enough to try stealing the body?” Acacius asks when he’s certain there’s no one in the garden.

“Does their god have sons?” Longinus doesn’t seem to have heard the question. Or, he’s heard and ignored it, continuing his own thoughts. “He must. All gods do. His mother must be a great woman.”

“He’s not a demigod,” Acacius says, a sigh held behind his teeth. “And we saw his mother. She was plain. So was he. Just a man.”

“He wasn’t just a man.”

“Why not?”

Longinus’ thumb taps on the curve of his bottom rib. “You saw what I did.”

“I saw a man die on a cross.”

“And the earth shake at his death.”

“Earthquakes happen.”

“Not like this.”

“If you are so certain,” Acacius says, “perhaps you should make an offering to appease his father. The lightning could strike you any moment now. Oh yes, look, here it comes.” He lifts a hand to the clear sky above. 

Longinus’ jaw shifts. He pushes himself up on his elbows so he can properly see his fellow legionnaire. There is still blood on his tunic, spattered against him by the wind when he thrust his spear through flesh. “Be careful what you mock.”

“I mock nothing. I mock no one. Is their god so powerful? Hm? He does nothing for them while Rome rules. He sends only rain while his ‘son’ hangs on a cross.” Acacius snorts and readjusts his stance. “They have one god, and he has forgotten them.”

“You’re a fool,” Longinus tells him. “Even Petronius recognized him for what he was.”

“The centurion is superstitious.”

“And you aren’t?”

“We did our duty.” Acacius is growing uneasy. Something rustles again in the brush. “So he was unusual. So, then, what? It changes nothing.”

“He prayed for our forgiveness.”

“Then he was sentimental.”

Longinus mutters a crude retort and lies down again. Acacius smiles thinly. The Nazarene had disturbed him, with his piercing eyes and silence under their whip, though he won’t admit it. The man’s eyes had been open when they pulled him down from the cross. Acacius had shut them to hide from them. 

“If he truly was the son of a god,” Acacius says, after the silence has stretched out like a shadow and grown heavy, “then we’d be the ones who killed him.”

“Yes,” Longinus says quietly. 

There is a warm wind stirring the trees like a breath. The earth is otherwise still around them. For hours, it has been still, as if creation is holding its breath, and just now, it has let it out again, sending puffs against Acacius’ skin and raising the soft hairs. The other two guards stir in their sleep. Longinus sits suddenly upright.

“Something is here,” he says, hand on his sword. He’s up before his words are out, kicking the others so they wake. The dawn makes itself known. The wind rises quickly. Clear is the sky, but the moon trembles as if afraid, hiding its face. A shaking begins, deeper than stone, making the trees shudder and groan, causing the roots to untwist themselves from the ground. Caius, who had laid his head on the Nazarene’s tunic, which he had won, has gone pale. He clings to his sword and shouts into the wind. His words are lost.

A man—no, it is not a man, though it is dressed in the white robes of one—comes across the grass, silent in its steps. When Acacius looks at it, terror seizes him. It’s a flash of terror, bright and terrible, illuminating all within himself that he has tried to hide. This is death! he thinks. This is death! His legs are limp beneath him. His face is crushed against the ground.

The man who is not a man places its hand on the stone. The wax seal melts away. Though the soldiers had strained themselves closing the tomb, the stone is pushed away with one hand, as easily as a boy might pick up a pebble and toss it away. It lands on its side, though it makes no sound. The being sits on it.

When Acacius comes to his right mind again, he is on his belly. His cheek is damp with dew. With his head turned sideways, he can see, two paces from him, Longinus, who is prostrate on his belly also, arms bent at the elbows so that his hands cover his head. He is shaking. Acacius hears him speaking, though it is more a babble than intelligible speech, the words forced from his lungs as he weeps.

Mercy, Acacius realizes. He begs for mercy.

There is still a terror in his own self when he raises his head to see the tomb. The being is gone. The tomb is open, stone cast aside, seal destroyed. Slowly, Acacius turns his head from side to side. The garden has come alive. In the new light, green has unfurled itself splendidly, trees putting forth their fruits and flowers like offerings so their fragrance fills the air. He sees fruit he does not know, nor has ever tasted. In the dipped branch of an olive tree, a grey dove sits.

His sword is gone. When did he drop it? He lifts himself and looks for the others, who are sprawled on the ground like dead men, though they breathe. He should check them. He should look for wounds. But something draws him towards the tomb, until he’s at the dark mouth of it, leaving the others behind, breathing in the cool, damp air. 

The tomb is empty.

“My gods,” he whispers, and he is terrified. He takes a step back, then another, turning from the empty tomb and the white linen cloths folded neatly where the body should be. His sandal catches on a root. He sprawls. The ground strips the skin from his knees. Blood rolls down his right calf as he limps forward.

Father, forgive them, had said the Nazarene, with a tongue swollen from thirst. 

“Run,” he tells Longinus hoarsely, grabbing the back of his tunic and hauling him upright. The others rise too. Their swords are abandoned. The Nazarene’s red garment lies crumpled on the ground. In the tomb, the graveclothes are folded. 

Father, forgive them, the man had prayed.

They know not what they do.

Acacius falls again, knocking the breath from himself. No one stops. The other three run ahead, fleeing the emptiness of the tomb, and though he gasps after them, they do not hear. 

There is no strength left in his limbs. As if gripped by fever, he trembles. Every story he has heard of the wrath of the gods comes to him here, crouched in the dust, made as low as beasts, while some great and holy fear passes over him. He covers his head as Longinus had done and begs for mercy.

Son of a god I do not know, he pleads, have mercy on me. Have mercy on me.

A hand touches his shoulder. 

Peace, says a voice he has heard before. Be still.

Immediately, the trembling leaves him. The terror that had overshadowed him passes on, leaving him be, and he is alone in the dust, alone, breathing. A dove coos. When he opens his eyes, he sees it on the path ahead, feathers ruffling. His eyes follow it when it takes flight.

The tomb is empty. The seal is broken, and the Nazarene is gone. At last, the world has thrown off its silence, and it sings around him, crying out while he stands mute. For a moment, he is still, seeking the source of their song. From where does it come? He cannot discern it. He abandons the stillness and presses on.

It is only when he rejoins the others that he finds his skinned knees made whole.

[lume-nosity]

‘i’ve got my eye on you.’

characters: xiao, kazuha, tighnari, cyno, heizou, albedo, wanderer/scaramouche, venti, gorou

style: fluff, but very fluffy & comfy

song inspo: yes to heaven by lana del ray

an: dear diary, tonight i’ve found out that i’m insane for writing all of the short men. or at least write them in a semi-acceptable way. AND I REACHED THE 10 LIMIT PICTURE BULLSHIT SO I HAD TO MESS UP MY USUAL FORMATTING MY APOLOGIES IF THINGS LOOK DISORGANIZED AAA

notes: not proofread, gender neutral reader, some crack, lowercase intended, most likely ooc in some parts, genuinely did not know what i was doing when i’ve written this, reader being a lil sassy in xiao’s portion, petnames: love, dearest, dove, muse, darling

xiao

“you could’ve gotten killed. why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“xiao, it was just a group of hilichurls.”

“it’s a group against one. they’d corner you and one of them will try to hurt you. the rest would follow suit.”

“well, what you said doesn’t matter anymore now that they’re all brutally slaughtered by you. they didn’t get the chance to do that.”

“…you really confuse me.”

xiao would lose it if someone or something laid one tiny little scratch on you. if it’s a serious injury bro will go ballistic.

if it’s a strong enemy, he’ll end their bloodline. if it’s a mere pigeon, get ready to have fowl for dinner.

him coming to you even though you didn’t call out his name was just pure coincidence.

he heard the sound of hilichurls so he followed the noises and there you were, getting surrounded by the hilichurls. his adrenaline kicked in.

he teleported to you and killed every single one of them swiftly.

he’s just worried about you, a little too worried for his own good. he can’t stand losing someone else, especially his partner.

so expect him to watch you from afar more often, to make sure you’re okay. he doesn’t have the intention of being creepy, he’s just your protector in the shadows.

he may not have experience in relationships, but he’s more than willing to learn by just being with you

kazuha

“my dove, you ought to be more mindful of your surroundings.”

“i know, i know, i was spacing out and i didn’t think i’d walk into someone. i was that clumsy.”

“it was just an accident, and i’m sure the recipient understands. it’s a common accident, so you don’t need to think about it often as it’ll be forgotten afterwards. now then, i believe it’s time you need some rest. allow me to carry you to our room.”

even though he acts so chill on the outside, deep down he’s actually more worried about you.

that someone you bumped into was actually a fatui agent.

you and kazuha were casually strolling the streets of liyue until you started spacing out and bumped into the fatui agent. effectively making you fall on your ass and a little dizzy from the impact.

the agent wasn’t too happy about it, so they tried to attack you. kazuha didn’t let that happen though, as he predicted that attack years ago and blocked them with his sword.

you heard weapons clashing for a few seconds until there was pure silence. you rubbed your eyes and looked up at a solemn-looking kazuha with his hand reaching out to you. (when you asked what happened he passed it off as nothing, he didn’t want to concern you)

kazuha kept note to always accompany you in your travels no matter where you choose to go.

tighnari

“you know you shouldn’t put your nose into things that are unfamiliar to you. especially items that may harm you. it astounds me how you’re this….”

“stupid? yeah”

“what? no, you’re not stupid.”

“then what?”

“you were unaware of the contents on the table and you’ve let your curiosity got the best of you. next time, let me know before you touch anything here, okay?”

tighnari would never and i mean never call you anything that would hurt you. sure, he can playfully tease you and be sassy with you, but not go as far to insult you. especially your knowledge.

he’s aware you’re smart in your own way, so he would never dream of insulting that. if someone were to insult you though, oh, he isn’t holding back.

about the item that you had the misfortune of peeking into, it was a sort of poison.

his ears flicker as he heard you coughing, and he rushes to you. dropping whatever he was doing at the moment to see you. it was a good thing he had an antidote on him for that poison, so he used it on you.

after you got back to your senses, he softly scolded you about ‘touching things that aren’t yours blah blah blah’

he didn’t leave your side that day and left his duties for collei to handle. nothing wrong with spending the rest of the day with your love, right?

cyno

“sorry you had to go out of your way to save me again…for the fifth time this week. it must be getting annoying.”

“no, it’s never annoying to protect someone you cherish. it doesn’t matter if the issue at hand was unimportant or severe. your safety is my priority. on the plus side, these eremites were the ones i was originally going after. so thanks to you, i can rest easy. now that you’re safe and the eremites had been dealt with.”

“hm, actually i was wondering, out of those five attempts, how do you always manage to find me in a pinch? it’s almost as if you always know whether or not i’m in trouble or something.”

“….i’m afraid that is a secret, my love.”

much like xiao, he too is a protector in the shadows.

every time he’a gotten word you’re taking a trip to the desert for errands or anything along those lines, he will watch you like a hawk

he just wants to be absolutely sure you’re safe, because you’re on the top of his list of priorities.

if by chance he sees you in trouble, he’ll quite literally pounce from the shadows to pursue justice on the perpetrators.

it’s a double win in his favor. (would most likely joke about that to you too)

heizou

“hey, are you alright?”

*you just waking up, regaining consciousness* “um, what happened?”

“oh, thank the archons, i thought you were a goner!”

“WHAT?”

“ah! right, let me explain. while we were out on a case to investigate on together, you got knocked out by some random treasurer! i for one am not in it for violence, but for your sake, i have beaten him up to a pulp and then called in someone to turn him in on our behalf. so now, you’ve just woken up.”

“….i did not understand a single thing you’ve just said.”

“hah, i believe it may be better that way.”

“why is that?”

“oh it’s nothing, it’s just a small occurrence that needed to be dealt with accordingly. anyways, now that you seem to be awake and well, shall we continue with our case, partner?

oh

my boy got away with murder /j

yes, he doesn’t like to resort to violence unless it had to come down to that.

but then again, for you? he’d fight the world with his bear fists

you guys are like partners in crime, so yes he’d go batshit crazy and panic if something were to happen to his beloved partner

would back out on a case that’s assigned to you both if it’s deemed to dangerous for you

even if you insist it’s fine, he wouldn’t buy that. because he loves you and doesn’t want to see you get injured, much like that encounter

most definitely flirts with you and input some pickup lines he has saved in his noggin. this may be irrelevant to the topic, but he’ll do this just to hide his worry for you

albedo

“dearest, please don’t go running out in the cold again without having any winter-appropriate gear. i don’t wish to have you catching a cold.”

“bedo’, i’m alright! look, i’m feeling just fine!” (you sniff your nose)

“*sigh* come inside, i’ll cook you some warm soup.”

“what about that experiment you told me you were working on for the past few weeks?”

“that’s the least of my worries. right now, i’m more focused on your health. that i will prioritize first before my experiment.”

albedo is willing to pause his week-long experiment to look after you, what a lad.

would postpone it for as long as it takes for you to recover from your cold

he probably studies your face

it’s all for good intentions btw (for science)

gives you everything you need. more blankets? more soup? him?

oh yes he will definitely give himself to you (in terms of attention)

if he is needed for meetings or anything he’d have sucrose stand in for him, because he’d rather spend time on you than a meaningless meeting

wanderer/scaramouche

“did you just-“

“ended them? sure as hell did.”

“you know you didn’t have to resort to extreme measures, right.”

“they had the audacity to belittle you in front of me. so i returned the gesture, tenfold.”

“okay but-“

“stop complaining, idiot. i did you a favor. next time, if you happen to find yourself in a situation like that again which i am certain it’ll happen, you should take notes from me.”

“wow, thanks for the advice.”

“my pleasure.”

love this asshat.

despite that rough exterior of his, that’s just his way of caring for you

spare him, he’s trying

he’s doing everything he can to show you he loves you despite it being a little challenging because he’s never experienced anything that involves being very close to humans

all his life he’s been resentful towards humans, but you’re the only one that stayed by his side.

which earned you a soft spot from him yippee!

he doesn’t admit it though, but that doesn’t stop him from loving you

venti

“oh dear, you look a little worse for wear. say, have you finished yet another round of errands for people again?”

“venti, it’s normal for me. and it was only a few! you have nothing to worry about.” (passes out from exhaustion but venti catches you)

“ah, it’s usually me you need to carry around should i have a little too much to drink. but alas, it’s my turn to return the favor.”

(whispers and runs his fingers through the strands of your hair) “you should lay off on that habit of yours, my muse..”

yes i find it canon that you’ll always carry him around whenever he’s haggard

he’s definitely clingy, i know this has been said about him multiple times but it seems we all mutually agree on this statement

the type to play you calming melodies with his lyre as your resting face relaxes.

as you’re snoozing the night away, venti is right next to you, playing soft and soothing melodies on his lyre to sooth your slumber.

never leaves the room, holds your hand while you’re asleep. he doesn’t want to leave your touch for the night.

gorou

“gorou.. what’s going on?”

“good morning, my love! i know you’ve just woken up from a good sleep but you must stay put in your bed for the day, because you need more time to revitalize yourself.”

“okay..wait. what about our comrades? the battle!? how long was i got knocked out for!?

“ah!- darling, shh…don’t worry! we had to retreat because we were clearly outnumbered and i was the one that called it. because after you got knocked out, and how the odds were against us at the time, i didn’t want you to get harmed in such a vulnerable state.”

“awww so even though you always long for victory, you called it quits just for me?”

“um- that’s!- oh fine, i’ll admit it. i was very worried about you during that battle, so i had to drop everything to carry you to one of our emergency shelters we have. and for that.. i chose to stick with you until you regain consciousness. her excellency allowed me to stay by your side, so it’s fine.”

“that’s… really sweet of you, it almost brings a tear to my eye”

“oh nonono don’t cry!!”

gorou, much like the rest of the workaholic smartasses here, would drop everything to spend time with you should you feel under the weather.

during your recovery, he’ll let you pet his ears and tail if it’ll entertain you/make you feel better

hear me out. when he tries to look after you during the night you’re resting, he flat out passes out next to you because of his exhaustion with his duties

which you can hear him snoring lightly, so you opened your eyes a little and pet his head with a smile on your face

[theramseyloft]

Is a street pigeon potentially as good as a domestic breed when it comes to being friendly?

Street pigeons are domestic birds. They're mixes of stray racers, rollers, and tumblers, mostly, with a few other breeds thrown in depending on what's bred and flown in that region.

But I do know what you mean, and yes.

The pigeon that inspired the therapy bird project was a feral found emaciated in a parking lot.

That's they day he came in from wildlife rehab with a mourning dove next to him.

He was 5 weeks old in that picture.

Those are fully unsheathed flight feathers.

It took him 6 months to grow in his full set of adult feathers.

And he, of his own volition, became my medical alert bird.

Initially, he alerted for anxiety attacks, which were debilitatingly severe at the time.

By which I mean that, under a certain degree of stress, I could not understand spoken words any more and may not realize I am being addressed.

Pigeons are hard wired to map patterns, and Ankhou could tell when I was about to shut down when I couldn't.

He would go get my husband if he was home (before he got a job where he could work from home) and lead him back to me.

And he eventually figured out how to use my hands and echolalia to bring me back out of it by himself.

He figured out that I was diabetic before I had any idea and it wasn't until I got my blood sugar back under control that I found out he had developed an alert for blood sugar spikes.

Ferals are hands down the most intelligent domestic pigeons because they have had to survive by it.

They are more willing to cooperate than breeds in human care because they depend on their flock mates to help them ensure one more day of life, be it by looking out for predators or remembering where to find good food and water.

Most of them, especially as adults, are extremely flighty and skittish, because they have learned to be and their lives have depended up to that point on paying attention to lessons learned.

And you can pretty much guarantee they come in sick and full of parasites.

But if you can either adopt one from a rescue after they're cleaned out and healthy or get one you save treated and have the patience to work with them, that keen intelligence makes it easier for them to work through a developed fear.

Just keep in mind that like a feral dog or cat born in an alley or under a shed, that feral pigeon probably has very good reasons for being skittish.

And just like a dog or cat born stray, a feral pigeon can come to trust and rely on you like family.

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Can you do more of the ghouls taking care of cat mc??

The Salem to their Sabrina

Obscuary taking care of a turned cat! MC

Wc:800

Edward

Immediately recognizes you, after he pats his lap for you to jump into and his cold hand rakes your fur while musing and divagating about similar curses and how it would be a shame to break it so soon now that your form turned so cute.

The epitome of an iPad kid now, he is hurdled under a blanket on his loveseat and a cat on his chest.

“If I were to let you out, would you hunt down a love dove for me? I heard that the government uses pigeons as spies and wonder if darkwick does so… why are you leaving without answering?”

Not one to play with you even if you insist, his old bones are too brittle and energy too low for that but he is sure that Lyca would like to play with you.

If you want someone to bring you to help he isn't ideal, he can't really hold you and his parasol at the same time. But you can wait with him until Luca and Kaito notice your absence and start looking for you or Rui starts asking where he found a cat willing to cuddle with him.

Almost wants to keep you a cat, it might be easier that way to care for you after anomalies take over but he reckons you might not appreciate your new body so, with a heavy sigh, he hands you to Lyca who is ordered by Rui to get you to mortenkraken or Nicolas, whoever is closer.

Rui

A cat ambushes him and almost makes him kick them on his way to Obscuary, quickly he figures it isn't any of the staff cats, they meow at him loudly to get his attention, or another cat anomaly, as they would hide from ghouls. It isn't until you tug at his pants to a plot of dirt and paw your name that he recognizes you.

Rolling his jacket around your body and holding you far from his body, he walks to the infirmary or directly to mortenkraken, whichever he guesses is less crowded. After getting told that it would disappear with time he is relieved.

He lets you hang out around his bar, even if he is scared of touching you accidentally, he thinks it's a good way to promote his business. Haru drops by as soon as night falls and is all over you even before getting drunk and being cuddlier, Romeo is just happy that he isn't the target for his hugs.

He is disappointed that when Nicolas came to his bar and rather than drinking it was just to perform a check up because he wasn't available when he took you. He managed to make him drink a watered down shochu before leaving. (is that how it's translated?)

He really wants to prepare you a cocktail but nobody really tested if cats could eat the anomalous infusions so the most he can do is mix catnip tea and cat milk so enjoy your cat-safe milk tea?

No matter at what hour you might get zoomies he is up to play -he can't really sleep but playing with a cute cat is good enough!- he grabs a stick with a string and feathers and waves it around for you to hunt.

He was kinda sad when you returned to normal, he really liked monopolizing you for a few days after having to share time with the other houses, but he will never say it out loud.

Lyca

Surprised at seeing a cat over at Obscuary, given how none of the staff cats go over but after a good sniff he figures it's you, your smell even if one of a cat’s there is a lingering flowery scent under all that fur.

Bring you by the scruff to Rui because he is the one he seeks out when in doubt. His ears almost pop off his head when he yells at him to let you go and he will hurt you.

This is actually a learning experience for him, most of the cats around campus seen skittish around him or outright evade him. He sits down on his blanket in his room with you next to him and a picture book open on the floor. He grabs your paw or tail and repeats the word until he somewhat remembers it.

He heard cats thrive when they eat meat so he tries harder to hunt you a dove, something small to eat for the small cat. Rui explains to him that even if you are a cat you still have your conscience and wouldn't eat raw meat.

“Here, drink, this said cats like milk” “Lyca no! Adult cats can't drink cow milk”

If he has to go to class with you on his shoulder he will wonder why the others can't recognize you, your scent is so different to normal cat's!

[creekfiend]

I want that little baby man so fucking bad omg. He would be the perfect companion for my new baby. Alas, I live in Virginia and do not drive. But! This kitty walked into my house a week and a half ago and I scooped her up and carried her by hand to my bathroom instead of letting her back out. She was born in the feral colony across the street about a year ago and has an entirely different temperament than the mostly near-identical ticked tabbies that make up the rest of the colony. I'm not totally sure where her genetics came from, although I have seen a seal point walking around a time or two. She's so sweet and so smart- she loves tv and will follow it so closely, string is her favorite toy but she's already really good about knowing the difference between string for playing with and yarn or cords, and she's good about listening when she's too tempted anyway (but you can see her considering the risks vs the rewards lmao) watching her learn what a ball was and how to play with it was fascinating, and now she's doing trick shots and playing a floor-bound version of catch. She already knows like a dozen words and she visibly chooses not to listen sometimes. She's great about being carried between the two rooms where we're quarantining her until her vet appointment on the 30th (wish us luck and good answers please!!) and we're not sure what to name her. Pigeon is close, she sounds like she has laryngitis when she tries to meow (or she honks the few times she manages) but she trills a lot like a startled dove. But it's not quite right, and I'm hoping you and your followers maybe have suggestions. Also she barely weighs five pounds and I'm almost entirely certain she's full grown. Thank you for reading all of this haha, I hope you have a low pain night and please pet that liddol fellow for me

Oh my god she's SO CUTE wtf look at her little FACE 🥺🥺🥺🥺 thank you for showing me her... I love her...

[letaot-ze-magniv]

Infodump on birds in Israel? 👁️👁️ Pls go on

General guide to birds in Israel

This post is going to be very long

Level 1- really common ones

Hooded crow/o-rev a-for (gray crow)

These big boys are the most common birds in Israel. You can find them everywhere, especially in urban areas. They’re quite big, the average crow is 40-50 cm long with a wingspan of 1m. (That’s bigger then a pigeon).

Like all corvids, they are incredibly intelligent. They have an excellent memory, can recognise specific humans and pass on information through generations. They are fond of shiny things, have funerals, an understanding of games and a justice system. They can use tools and have a taste for peanuts and grapes.

Laughing dove/tzo-tze-let/yo-na

These are the second most common birds in Israel, and they’re also an invasive species. The vast majority of people call them “yona” and if you say “tzotzelet wont know what you mean. You can find them everywhere, especially in cities.

This is an invasive species, and is commonly thought of as the first invasive species in Israel. It was brought over by Muslims during the Ottoman occupation and has lived here since.

Domestic pigeon/yo-nat ha-Ba-it (house dove)/yo-na

Like the tzotzelet, most people call this bird “yona” too. That leads to the misconception that they’re the same species and confusion between the two. This pigeon is also extremely common, and you can find it in all urban spaces in Israel.

Feathering mutations are widespread among domestic pigeons, and they can also look like this:

House Sparrows/ dror ha-ba-it/dror

On the left, a female, on the right is a male. This birds are tiny and common and very cute. Can be found in all areas of Israel. They like eating small seeds and bugs, and you can feed them bread.

Monk parakeet/ tu-ki ne-zi-ri (commonly known as tu-ki)

They’re green, adorable, can speak, and you guessed it, are invasive! Like the maynas, monk parakeets were introduced to Israel in the 90s after they escaped the Tzafari. You can find them in all parts of Israel except the Negev, and they’re especially common in Tel aviv and it’s neighbouring cities. Monk parakeets are often confused with rose-ringed parakeets as they’re the only green birds in Israel.

Rose ringed parakeets/da-ra-ra

Above is the male, below is the female. Like monk parakeets, dararas are also an invasive species. I thought they were introduced in the 90s, but apparently they were introduced in the 1860s because they were kept as pets. Like monk parakeets, they can be found in all areas of Israel that aren’t deserts. It’s hard to tell them apart from monk parakeets if you can’t see their chests.

Eurasian Jackdaw/kak

Yet another corvid! Like all other corvids, jackdaws are extremely intelligent, have an understanding of death, can use tools, and so on. Jackdaws are unique in that they also have an understanding of monogamy and privacy around mating! They prefer to mate away from their murder (is murder what you call a flock of any corvid or is that exclusive to ravens?) and they also kill their ill. They can be found in all areas hooded crows are, but aren’t as common. Its possible to confuse them for a hooded crow, but they’re smaller and darker.

Hopoe/du-khi-fat

This lil girl isn’t extremely common, but it’s the national bird and is adorable so I HAD to include it. Hopoes tend to live near sources of water, and you can find them in coastal areas. There used to be more of them but sadly deforestation and invasive species hurt the population. They have a floofy feather thingy on their head that they can open and close and that’s adorable!

I’ll make a part 2 now about somewhat uncommon birds

If anyone is interested in learning more about the birds of Israel, I highly recommend אתר הצפרות הישראלי. They have detailed descriptions of the birds, they include scientific Hebrew and Arabic names, they have a map that shows you how common each bird is in what part of Israel, AND THEY HAVE RECORDINGS OF THE BIRD CALLS

They also have a page for every bird that was ever spotted in Israel, even if it was only once. Don’t ask me what they define as Israel, because I’ve wondered about it too and I don’t know

[midwinterwings]

Stuff that makes me feel more connected to my divine aspect (and aren't as conventional)

-skateboarding

-sneaking up on a friend and BAM HAH GRAB (I ask if theyre OK with this beforehand)

-Running around and feeling the wind on my face - probably falling over because my coordination is dogshit (no offence any dogs reading this) getting a scrape or a bruise and proudly showing it to friends and family

-Climbing over things.

-Making an obnoxious or braincell killing joke or pun I think of on the spot and then grinning widely at the rolled eyes and facepalms

-Seeing people around me being more open about their sexuality and talking about sexual topics when they hang out with me - it's great when people feel more comfortable (not when it's directed at me, in general)

-Painstakingly polishing and cleaning my muddy shoes

-Playful flirting, but make it so absurd and stupid that it's not uncomfortable yknow

-Crossdressing randomly without warning (usually I wear a shirt and pants, got like 20 pairs of identical clothes) the barely appropriate skirt and fishnets aren't gonna wear themselves are they

-Making people laugh so hard we start wheezing and being in pain.

-Drawing...artblock hit me hard, but trying to pick back up.

-Learning or listening to birds or 'pest' species. Rock doves (known colloquially as town pigeons) are an amazing species who are so successful and clever we take them for granted because theyre that successful! Isnt it amazing how theyre just so good we forgot to appreciate them. Give your local rock dove...some space, please stop chasing them. Also, don't feed them bread.

[randomalistic]

Hey can you tell me about pigeons I like the noises they make and how they look 💥

PIGEONS (rock doves) ARE PUDGY AND SOFT AND KIND CREATURES and they have very complex and diverse coloration when living in cities thanks to a bunch of escaped domesticated ones breeding together. I think.. They’re also able to be trained and they have great navigation abilities so they were bred as messenger carrier pigeons in WW1 and WW2. Important Historical Significance I say.. but most importantly they have pink feet

(I hate to tell you that I only have Immense Enthusiasm for birds and I’m actually kind of Knowledge Bare on diverse bird facts so idk a lot about pigeons because I don’t live in a large city. Or at least I only have surface level knowledge. This will change. I’m ravenous for new DEEP CUT bird facts.)

I swear I saw a really in depth pigeon coloration post on tumblr once. You gotta trust me it’s out there… But you can still find other stuff :] pigeons are very overhated 💔 so it’s nice to want to learn about them! I also think their cooing sounds are lovely and unique

[kirric-the-fan]

Artwork of my Love Bullet OC Koiro, commissioned from @4spaceknights- they're not on tumblr, but you can find their twitter here !

Koiro, cupid oc

- Koiro is a traditional cupid. She’s a bit of a loner who goes around doing her own thing and will just turn up from time to time. She’s been a cupid for a very long time, one of the old ones, old enough that Kanna and the others aren’t exactly sure how long she’s been around. They have theories, but then she’ll drop something like “And that’s what they said when they invented the cannon,” into the conversation and they’ll have to re-evaluate everything.

- She's quite imposing, and has no truck with this whole modernisation thing. She thinks the modern cupids have lost a lot of the art in their work. Spends about 90% of her time with other cupids glaring at and judging them for their weapon choices and such. Is hard to get along with and isn’t that fun to be around. Too much of a workhard. Stubborn. Uptight. Snobby. Thinks they represent everything that a cupid should be and could probably do with an attitude adjustment, but we love her anyway.

- Has a surprisingly cordial relationship with Kanna. Ena has beef with Koiro’s opinions on weapons and will air her disagreement at any opportunity, particularly in the bow vs sniper rifle department. Chiyo makes herself scarce. Something about not being able to hear Koiro coming. (She may have gotten on the wrong side of her in the past.)

- I hc that Kanna convinces Koiro to tutor Koharu as a tag-along apprentice for a day kind of thing. Koiro takes Koharu to learn archery, and then on to a target, which turns out to be an older person, who, while Koharu is initially surprised, she agrees that they deserve their second chance at love too. Koiro doesn’t say it outwardly, but Koharu made a good impression on her because she listened, and wanted to learn. Most other cupids don't make the effort, or don't understand where she's coming from. Becomes stoically protective of Koharu. In the 'I'm not looking after you, but I will sit here and keep the rain off you with my wing whilst you're sleeping' way.

- A big part of Koiro is that she is completely devoted to the goddess. And I mean Completely. Devoted, heart and soul. This is because, due to a quirk of her past, she actually fell in love; and with the goddess herself no less. Koiro’s been around long enough that when she was first made a cupid, they could still fall in love. This was stopped because it caused too many problems, but while all the other cupids from that time have moved on, she’s still working to earn the enormous amount of karma that might allow her to get the goddess to reciprocate her feelings. Maybe. Very few other cupids know about any of this though, so her dedication just comes across as her being single minded, uptight, and grumpy.

- Her love borders on obsession, and she’s been enough of a pester about it in the past that all the pigeons and doves now avoid her as much as they can. As messengers of the goddess, they straight up got tired of being asked to send the goddess love letters all the time. This does mean that Koiro’s arrival anywhere is heralded by the rapid departure of the birds, which can leave quite an impression on the newbies.

- She doesn’t like guns, but she did get fed up of being disarmed in disputes, and now has a smaller speargun-like secondary weapon concealed about her person. She only ever uses against upstart cupids ofc. She still has standards to uphold.

I have posted more about her in this post here

Extras:

- Yes I subscribe to the 'hair colour relates to how they died' train of thought

- The Kanna=goddess theory has funny but heart wrenching consequences for this oc because she just does not see it. Imagine searching all your life for a way to connect with the person you fell in love with, only to realise that you never noticed when they were right there.

[fly-pow-bye]

Warner Bros. Discovery announced a bunch of greenlights at Annecy, including a reboot of a certain Craig McCracken show! No, not one involving kindergarten superheroes.

Foster's Imaginary Nursery has a new name: Foster’s Funtime for Imaginary Friends. While Variety says Cartoon Network Studios, the poster shows Hanna-Barbera Studios Europe. This is the preschool spinoff of Foster's, which is interesting to see after what they did to Jessica's Big Little World, and we can only hope this doesn't have the same fate. Craig McCracken has promised that it will have the same fun pace, but with a simpler structure and with less cynical humor.

Adventure Time may have had an adult-focused spinoff with Fionna and Cake, but that doesn't mean Adventure Time's original demographic will forever be left out: Adventure Time: Side Quests. Unlike the last few Adventure Time series, these side quests will be episodic, and probably better for reruns.

One greenlight we know absolutely nothing about, and one that came as a complete surprise, is Untitled Regular Show Project. How are they going to continue Regular Show after that regular epic final battle? The only things we know is that J.G. Quintel is still heading it and it will feature characters from Regular Show.

Along with greenlit shows, they announced some projects in development:

We got another Scooby-Doo show in the works. Go-Go Mystery Machine involves Shaggy and Scooby going to Japan, accidentally unleashing a bunch of yokai, and having to get help from Scooby's uncle, a Shiba Inu named Daisuke-Doo and his two friends.

Adventure Time isn't just getting a new school for the kids, it's getting a show for the younger kids, too. Adventure Time: Heyo BMO stars BMO in a new neighborhood with new friends as he goes on a quest to learn and fill his database. (Variety says this is from a description; Cartoon Network's pronouns for a non-binary character, not Variety's or mine.)

Other projects: Untitled Barbara Throws a Wobbler Project. Another one for preschoolers, and one based on a book. The Adventure Time Movie is still going to happen, with Rebecca Sugar of Steven Universe and early Adventure Time fame serving as creator. Bad Karma, a family movie project set in a mythical fantasy world. Finally, the only one in this article that is not a kids show: Lovey Dovey, a show by one of the writers of Harley Quinn about a dove who wants to look for his true love that ends up getting stuck with a bunch of streetwise pigeons who want to, quote, "screw the large bird from a popular kids TV show."

The Amazing World of Gumball has its own panel tomorrow, and Annecy has banners proclaiming that "more Gumball" is coming.

[heliosthegriffin]

Shadow Knight, and Magic Girls VIII

"So, any reason why you woke us all up," Weiss asked tiredly, having been dragged out of her home at 7am by one overly energetic Ruby.

"Yes!" Ruby shouted.

"Which is?" Blake added.

"Because," She smiled deviously. "I had to wake up yesterday and was tired all day! So, I thought if we were all tired, it wouldn't be as bad!

Yang looked at Ruby, then her hands, then grabbed her rosy cheeks and pinched and squeezed them. "You should have stayed in bed!"

"Eep!" Ruby cried, cowering behind Weiss, who was fighting the urge to put her in a popsicle. "I'm sorry! I"m not used to missing sleep, I can't think straight!"

Blake nodded, thinking of how she was going to take advantage of this. "Make's sense, she's bound to use more energy than the rest of us, so need's more sleep."

"See! Blake gets it!"

"Not that it excuses her." Blake gave her a menacing glare, then her bow twitched.

"One! Two! One! Two!"

From down the street, a shadow was approaching, as racing Pyrrha Nikos from down the street were four brawny young men, puling a sleigh in which an enormous old man, with a equally enormous gut, and magnificent mustache, cracked a whip at the boys every couple seconds.

"On Cardin, on Russel, On Sky, and Dove! Mush, boys! Mush, boys! Hiyeah!" The man cried into a megaphone, sitting off car alarms, making dogs have panic attacks, and breaking fragile glass.

The girls watched stunned as the ... event got closer and closer to them.

Pyrrha eventually stopped next to them with a glass-like smile, and a look that said, 'don't ask, me. I don't know either.'

The old man stopped his sleigh, Cardin and his boys collapsing in a steaming heap. "Hohoho, young lady, you sure gave my boys a good challenge!" He pumped his shotgun, took air, and shot a stream of fire 20ft into the air, and five fully cooked pigeons fell down in front of Cardin and boys. "Eat up, boys!" Then turned to Pyrrha. "Same time tomorrow, Young Lady?"

Pyrrha looked to the girls, who shrank away from her, then looked back with resignation. "... Sure."

"Magnificent!" His mustache rose in joy, revealing a dazzling smile. "Enough, break! Time to run!"

"Wait, teacher!" Cardin stood up, his eyes unusual bright. "There is something I must do!"

"Hmm," He spun his ax. "Make it quick, this is a rich neighborhood, the police won't have missed me arabesque-cooking those birds."

Cardin approached Ruby, who shrunk behind Yang, who looked ready to rumble.

He bowed, sincerely. "You have our sincerest apologies for our rudeness, we have learned the errors of our way, as we have taken the first steps onto the mountain of manliness, after seeing the pinnacle."

They're teacher harrumphed in approval.

Ruby turned to Pyrrha, questing her.

Pyrrha looked at her blankly.

Ruby turned back to an expectant Cardin. "...Apology accepted, please leave."

Then he turned to Weiss. "Ms. Schnee," He wiped back his tears. "The love of young lady is a beautiful thing," Weiss stepped back in horror. "Like a Edelweiss unfurling into dawn's light, it must be protected or it will surely perish." He put a hand on her shoulder, who shuddered in horror. "But, you must let him go."

"What?" Weiss looked at Cardin like he was on meth, no she was sure he was on something illegal.

Which is true, Peter Port is wanted for dueling in 11 cities, but irrelevant.

"Give up on him, he is beyond your reach. You will merely hurt yourself pursuing him." Cardin said looking off into the sunrise, eye's twinkling with unshed tears.

"I truly have no idea what your talking about?" Weiss said, trying to pull Cardin's gorrilla grip off of her.

He sighed. "Your feelings for Jaune Arc." He continued looking off into the distance. "He has found love. 4 of them, in fact. They're all happy together, you would only intrude on they're happiness. Now, I know you're a Schnee, and want to take all virgin land for yourself,"

"Excuse me?!" Weiss screeched, red-faced.

"Preach, brother!" Blake bellowed.

"Weiss, please. Don't make this hard for Jaune, then it has to be." Cardin put both hands on her shoulders, looking down. "It's for the best for both of you... well, five ... six?" He was trying to figure out the dynamics of that relationship.

"I do not have a crush on Jaune Arc!" Weiss hollered.

Ruby turned to stone-faced Pyrrha, a crying Yang, and usually interested Blake. "How do you think Ren and Nora are going to take this?"

"How he could break they're hearts like that! He already had, Weiss, Ren, and Nora wrapped around his fingers!"

"And, Lily." Blake added.

"And, Lily! How will she live!?" Yang yelled, setting off car alarms in the distance.

---

Ren rose groggily, looking through his window at his parents car as it cried out, watching as his father went outside cursing, then turned off it's alarm.

He grabbed his earphones, cranked up the music, then went back to sleep.

---

"She how will they live?" Pyrrha asked, eyes dark with thought.

Blake was writing in a notepad. "Just put them all in a locked room, that will solve it."

"I'll go in and ... monitor it." Pyrrha added. 'I will win it.'

"Cardin," An old wise voice emerged from the sleigh. "Leave her be."

"But, Teacher!"

"Cardin, look her mind is set." He said wisely.

He looked at Weiss, who looked ready to attack, almost foaming at the mouth and growling, he took a step back.

Cardin wiped his eyes, then gave Weiss a thumbs up. "You go get him, girl!"

The Teacher then fired a shot into the air. "You have our support!" The other three boys cries out they're support to. "Now onward, young Cardin! I hear sirens, ohoho, it will be quite the race!"

"Yes, Teacher!"

The 5 girls watched as the they took off down the street, sparks coming off the sleigh, and a police car coming down the street.

It stopped in front of them. "Young ladies, we've heard reports of a noise complaint from several anonymous residents, do you have any information on the matter."

As one, other than Blake who isn't a stitch, pointed down the street at the quickly disappearing sleigh.

The cop gave a weak-smile and a thumb's up, then slowly reversed the back the way he came.

Yang patted Pyrrha on the back. "Well, at least you have something to look forward tomorrow for."

Pyrrha frowned. "Yeah, something."

The a jet-black car pulled up in front of them, the back-door opening, revealing-

----

Jaune pulled at his uniform.

He hadn't even known the school had them, it was nice, but he didn't like the way it squeeze his collar, or how it itch it felt.

Oh wait, those were his stitches, he could live with that. Well, he had to live with that.

Then the car pulled to a stop, and a box was pushed into his hands, by Melanie, it felt heavy. "They're your lunch, Uncle Xiong was very clear that you eat healthy from now on, it's mix of whole proteins, carbohydrates, healthy fats, and water."

Jaune stared down at the lunch box, if felt like he could bludgeon a man with it. His stomach growled.

Melanie slid him two more boxes. "There, that should get you through the day."

A scroll was then handed over by Miltiades. "Here you go, champ. It's your brand new scroll." Jaune looked over the black lighter sized object, it had twin red-axes on the back. He opened it, and holographic screen emerged.

'Lynching completion, 12% - 18% - 25% - 53% - 68% - 79% - 89% - 98% - Complete.

Syncing with known bio-signatures.

Welcome, Jaune Arc-Xiong."

"How'd you guys get my name changed so fast?"

Militia smiled. "Money."

"Oh."

"Legally, you've been adopted by Uncle Xiong as his nephew, well, as a god-child, but same difference. Anyway, welcome to the family, Cousin."

Jaune sighed. "What am I going to tell mom and dad?"

Melanie popped the locks. "Don't know, but you got the whole afternoon, before we come to pick you back this evening. So, think a bit, boy. Whatever your story, we'll back it up."

"How are you going to find-," Jaune looked at his new scroll. "Oh, never mind."

"Also," Her sister chimed in. "Make sure, that your on your best behaviors, you're on camera, so smile a bit!" She mimed doing a smile. "Also, we took a look at your grades and..." She looked away awkwardly. "Yeah. Good luck."

Jaune held his face in his hands. "Don't think I don't need it."

"Anyway, see you this afternoon."

"I'll remember, see you then." Jaune said getting out, closing the door behind him.

"You think he's going to have a good day?" Miltiades asked.

Her sister shrugged. "Who knows, long as he doesn't make the Family look bad."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. I think he's fine."

The car drove off slowly, Melanie watching as he was mobbed by several different girls, making her chuckle, if feeling slightly pissed off for some reason. "I guess not."

"So, what do we now?"

"Sleep."

"Yeah, that sounds good."

The two drove towards they're home in Old Vale, one of the most esteemed neighborhoods in the city. It was also thirty minutes away, and Melanie noticed her sister staring to drift off.

That could wait, she had a question for her.

"Miltiades?"

"Yes?"

"Did you notice anything about the way, Uncle Xiong phrased our deal with Blondie?"

Her sister squinted at her tired. "No? Should I?"

"Yes? No? Maybe. It's just the way he put it, it's almost like he's setting up a play of sorts. Blondie can't take control until we say so, not Uncle Xiong, not the Elders, no one."

"And?"

"Don't you think that's a bit odd? If anything happens to Uncle, that means, power would default to us, wouldn't it? As, Blondie can't take control until we say so, and as his benefactors, we would have to hold control until we say he's ready, so ..."

"Yes?" Her sister didn't seem to get it.

"Never-mind, I'm over thinking this."

They continued to drive, her sister snoring softly, eventually getting home.

Melanie pause, they're were shadows moving inside.

She reached for her pistol, and moved to the door, opening it slowly, it was already unlocked.

Curious.

Opening the door, she saw ...

"What the hell, are you two doing here?" Melanie asked angrily at Vernal and Amber.

"Uh, in case you didn't remember, your boys destroyed our house." Vernal pointed a cup of coffee at them. "So, Big Bears putting us up here until further notice. So, welcome home, roomies!"

Amber smile apologetically.

"Sis, why you blocking the door?" Miltiades asked, then looked around the room. "Why didn't you tell me we had guests? I love sleep overs!"

---

Jaune felt his gut buckle, as what felt like a cannonball slammed into him. "Urgh." He grunted, somehow keeping his lunch safe.

"Jaune!" Ruby cried happily. "It's been forever!" She had her arms circle around this front, too short to reach all the way around. Then, she looked up at him angrily. "You skipped school, yesterday! Just when I need you most! How dare you, you .. you ... you ... Meanie!"

Looking down at his diminutive self-proclaimed best friend, Jaune had to resist laughing at her pout. "Wow, you don't have to be so harsh, Ruby."

Ruby unlatched, still pouting. "I'm sorry, that was out of line, but you still are a dirty skipper, you!" Then she looked at him.

"I have a doctor's note." Jaune dug out the crumpled piece of paper, handing it to Ruby, who took it greedily.

"I'll be the judge of that!" She scanned over the notes. "From the Office Dr. Autumn, excused from school yadda-yadda-yadda ... for gross bodily harm!" Ruby cried out, getting her friends and sisters attention.

Ruby looked at Jaune like he had paper-skin and glass bones. "What are you doing at school! We need to get you to a hospital!"

'If I had dollar for every time someone told me that, I wouldn't be in debt.' Jaune considered.

He resisted the urge to pat her friends head, as she stared at him with concerned eyes. "I'm fine, Ruby."

She looked him over. "Alright the, but I'll be watching you, Mister! No harm shall come to my bestie on my watch!" She pointed from her eye to his.

Chuckling, Jaune felt his heart warm. Her concern actually made him feel happy.

Then stormed over a ice-storm localized entirely in a 5'2 girl, Winter Storm Weiss.

"For the last time," She looked him in the face. "I do not have any feelings for you!" Weiss paused noticing his scratched up face, then removed her finger from his abdomen. "My apologies."

"It's fine. Not like I feel anything about you, so no harm." Jaune nodded. "Apology accepted."

Weiss paused. "None?" She gestured to her face, hair, and body. "No feelings at all? No poems about how my beauty is your muse? My voice a song? A need to carve my naked form out of marble?"

Jaune backed away slowly, as she was starting to unnerve him. "None. I'm not much of an artist, anyway." He moved Ruby in front of him as a shield.

"Well, good then." Weiss said. "Though, even if you were to write me a 100 volumes on my beauty, I would consider it. Out of pity, of course, but even thought I have no feelings for you, I can't get that across enough, I am not heartless, so know this, there is a lottery's chance that you could obtain me!"

Jaune moved forward, keeping Ruby facing Weiss like a cross against a vampire. "Noted, and I'm not going to do that, so rest easy. I don't want to date you, or anything, I'm busy, so no need to worry." Jaune was starting to feel unnerved by the white-haired girl.

Weiss pushed forward following them anyway, only being kept away by Ruby happy smile, which is well known to burn Weiss if she stepped too close. "Yes, good to know. I'm just letting you know, you have a chance, as I am a kind women. But, what do you mean, too busy?" Her face angry. "Are you saying you can't make time for a Schnee? I'll have you know I get thousands of marriage proposals every day! You would refuse such an honor?"

'Gross,' Jaune thought about the marriage proposals, what kind of father would even let that happen?

---

Jacque Schnee looked at the current bidding for his daughters hand in marriage, then compared them to they're financial portfolio, crossed with the social standing to be gained, and then whether he could have the media spin his daughter getting married at such a young age.

The bastard decided, no, not at the moment, with how much the public was currently against him.

He pulled up his daughters file, and what her damn birthday was again, and circled it in his calendar.

Jacques then filed away several names that might be worth giving his daughters hand too.

"Sir, we have a date proposal for young master, Whitley. She all the way in Mistral, but she comes from a good family."

"Hmm, allowed, take him out of school, have him practice the rest of the day, while we arrange it, and make it cute, no sex, though. I don't want any grand-children yet." He paused. "Also, have them come to meet us here, if they're worth our time, they'll do it."

He chuckled. "Schnee's move for no one."

---

"Yes." Jaune rapidly thought up a plan to make her understand. "You're ... too good for me. I couldn't hope to stand next to you, so, I'd have to be a idiot to think I could."

Weiss nodded. "Good, long as you understand. My father would never allow it anyway."

Jaune sighed with relief.

"We'd have to runaway together, and that would never work out." Jaune felt his neck-hairs stand up, where was she going with this? "My father would find us in a day, and try to separate us." No, seriously, why was she still here? "We'd have to be on the run for the rest of our lives, just the two of us." Jaune backed away, leaving Ruby next to her. She was crazy.

Jaune tried to move silently away, only to find when he turned that Ruby and Weiss were still in front of him, no matter what direction he turned. What the? This was just fucking magic, now!

Ruby whined.

"Oh well, I guess Ruby would have to come too, but then we'd have to take Yang, and Blake, and Pyrrha... Now, it doesn't sound that bad, does it? Yes. I can see it now." She smiled at him, then blushed. "Not that I'd ever consider that with you. It's entirely theoretical. Yes, just a theory."

Jaune looked pleadingly at the other three girls, who all seemed to be wondering how far this would go, ignoring his plight.

"Good. I understand, I'd-"

"Ask me out?"

"No. I thought we made that clear?"

Ruby looked confused. "So, are we running away, or not?"

"That was just a theory." Or, delusion from a mad-woman.

"I thought you not being in love with me, was the theory?" Weiss said.

"No, us running away, was."

Like I should be doing right, now. Jaune thought to himself.

Several students were now watching them, and Jaune tried his best to hold back his embarrassment. "Hey, how about we go inside?"

"Why?" Weiss asked. "So, you can pin me against a wall, and force me to let you take me out on a romantic date for two?"

Jaune looked at Ruby, who merely mouthed the words 'Tsundere 110%'

Understanding, Jaune formulated a plan. "Weiss, uh, you have pretty eyes."

The girl blushed. "You won't score any points with me, like that!"

Jaune looked at Ruby for answers, then whispered him the answer.

"Weiss, as Ruby's best friend, and therefore, yours, I want to say, I'm am glad to have such a upper-class friend to show me right from wrong." He parroted to her.

Weiss preened. "We'll, good. As long as you know your place."

Jaune turned slowly, inching towards the school, eager to nap till first period, and maybe through it.

A girl with bow blocked his path. "So, a five-way? She asked, while reading a book. "Isn't that a orgy?"

Jaune stopped, dumb-struck. 'The hell? Is she high?'

"I don't comprehend." Jaune said, throat feeling dry and closed off.

"I have sources," She mentions casually. "That say, you were out with some pretty women, last night."

She talks to people? Was Jaune's first thought.

Cardin. Was his second thought.

She talks with Cardin? Was his third thought.

'I guess you can't judge a book by the cover.'

"Yeah, what about them?" Jaune added.

"So, you're confirming it?" Yang asked, walking out from behind Blake.

"Please, continue." Pyrrha gave him a fake smile, and hyper-focused eyes.

'How did they do that? Blake's shorter than them?' Jaune thought, he then paused.

"I didn't have an orgy, I don't even know what the word means." He truly didn't, any time his sisters said the word, he'd ask his mom, and she'd get mad, then his sister would get mad back, and then dad would start to drink, and talk about how he loved him, and wished it was just the two of them, sometimes.

Man, last Sunday felt like years ago, sometimes.

"It means-" Yang began, only for Pyrrha to cover her mouth, looking slightly less terrifying.

"Ah, then what were you doing with them?"

'Eating breakfast, after they car-washed me, because I got dirty fighting a demon-bear.' Was not the answer he was going with.

"I ... Broke my leg." Jaune lied.

Pyrrha tried to kick him, but Jaune side-stepped her attempt. "Alright, I ... Was being treat to breakfast," He fought to think. "After, I helped them clean house."

Yang looked at him, confused. "Ok, but what were you doing cleaning house so late at night?"

"Don't judge me for being a capitalist."

"I wasn't, but ... Whatever. You get paid for cleaning they're gutters too?" She wiggled her eyebrows.

"No, uh, just taking out trash and stuff."

"Oh. That's boring."

"Not at the time, it was pretty exciting."

Blake crinkled her nose, catching the whiff of something on him. "Were you drinking, last night?"

'How'd? I only had one cup!' The size of a soup bowl, the fact he was walking was impressive.

"I was with my Uncle." Jaune added. "He was treating me after I got done cleaning."

Pyrrha brightened up. "Oh, that's good then. What's his name?"

"Uncle Xiong."

Weiss' ear twitched. "Xiong?" She asked. No way it was that 'Xiong'' was it?

Blake also stared at Jaune. "Well, ok then." That wasn't the only smell on him, in fact, he almost smelled like the Miasma on Grimm. But, for him to even barely smell like one, he'd have to fought a big one, which was just impossible.

He'd have to dropped a building on something that size.

Jaune sneezed. Which was weird, considering he didn't have allergies.

Pyrrha looked at his hands. "What's that?"

"Lunchbox."

"Hmm, odd. It looks different from the one you usually bring, did someone make it for you?"

"My cousins, you saw them drop me off."

"Ah, I did think that was odd, don't you walk to school."

"Not anymore, my Uncle, says I have to be on time."

Yang looked at him oddly. "But, you live with your parents, don't you? Why's your uncle so up in your business."

"He wants me to take over his business, but he won't let me unless I start being a model student."

"Oh, cool. What's he do? Must be neat to have your life set up after school."

"Um, property management, I think?" The best legal answer Jaune could think of.

"Boring!" Yang exclaimed. "Well, your with us now, so don't worry about things keeping interesting."

"Thanks."

Blake filed that away. "Hmm, so that's why your so cleaned up."

"Yep."

Pyrrha touched his shoulder, making Jaune internally wince, she was touching a cut. "I think it makes you look very nice."

"Thank you." Jaune managed to grit out.

"Excuse me," Came a voice from slightly far away. "Mr. Arc?"

Jaune looked down, at dark-skinned girl wearing a baret. "Yes?"

"I require your presence, Ms. Goodwitch has asked you to be summoned to her office."

[nepeteaa]

Omg please tell me more about your pigeon

What's it like having a pet pigeon?? I must know everything!

sure!

this is Pawpaw! we found him on the way to our friends house just wandering around on the ground. my partner noticed he was banded so we hopped out of the car and grabbed him (very easily) expecting to return him to his owner. turns out he was a wedding release "dove" (which is a really shitty practice) and the owner had no interest in taking him back. if he couldn't find his way home he was a failure and was left to die! we spent a lot of time trying to find someone or somewhere to adopt him with no luck.

pigeons live anywhere from 15-20 years, and according to his band he's less than a year old. so we don't know if he'll stay with us forever, but it sure seems that way as of right now. I know a lot about birds but not about pet birds, so it's been a big, but fun, learning curve! recently he went through pigeon puberty and did a 180 on personality and I freaked out thinking he desperately needed a mate. but after patience and more research i've figured out he just needed to settle into being a big boy haha.

I love talking about Pawpaw so feel free to ask me anything! I'm new to pigeon ownership but despite all the poop (and I mean A LOT OF POOP) and biting, it's been great!

[petoskeystones]

ask game tagged by @thedissociatives (and ivan eriecanal mwah ty guys <3) (under the cut bc it got long)

1. do you make your bed

yes every morning or i get stressed out lmao. i've been known to make my bed and then get right in it at night if i didn't do it in the morning

2. favorite number

20

3. what’s your job

unemployed but i'm working on it i promise

4. if you could go back to school, would you?

i am on summer break rn but i need to get back to school... i miss my routines so bad and its been like two weeks

5. can you parallel park

in theory, yes. in practice, i will wildly inconvenience myself to avoid doing it.

6. do you think aliens are real

yes! like scientifically they have to, y'know? (i actually did a whole article about this for the school paper last year and talked to some very cool ufologists)

7. can you drive a manual car

no. please dont make me learn

8. guilty pleasure

i don't feel guilty about any of my pleasures. i'm not catholic.

9. tattoos

one! traditional style pigeon/dove of peace with an olive branch, on my right arm. hopefully more to come!

10. favorite colour

all? i feel like i gravitate towards greens and blues, so i'll say that

11. favorite type of music

all? but its summer so i've been listening to motown and soul and iranian oldies a lot. googoosh and stevie wonder on repeat

12. do you like puzzles

i love crosswords and other word puzzles, also my sudokus

13. any phobias

drowning and being buried alive etc etc.

14. favourite childhood sport

i did Not grow up in a sports household but i suppose baseball and hockey

15. do you talk to yourself

constantly, i like to narrate things lol

16. tea or coffee

coffee, unless im being offered iranian tea

17. first thing you wanted to be when you grew up

writer/reporter!

18. what movies do you adore

mamma mia, the sound of music, the birdcage, sam raimi's spider-man movies, home alone.........

tagging @bludcrust @radiojamming @fakrichie @nurseadriansbrother and anyone else who wants to do it :)

[the-east-art]

Fantail Pigeons and Mourning Doves - Part 4 (END)

There are five pigeons bobbing their heads back and forth, prowling the lot for forgotten chips. Pigeons are generally considered a nuisance. Back at the seminary Uncle Boaz would actively harass them away from the feeders they left out for the birds. They don’t contribute birdsong and they’re ugly. That’s what Uncle Boaz would say, at least. Mel liked pigeons plumage, the way that they glimmered iridescendantly in light, like oil. You would almost think that pigeons had adapted to live at the gas station pumps with that kind of matching coloring. 

At the hospital there had been a public use phone, and Mel had used that to call Fatima and explain what had happened. His urgency to get Wren to a hospital had been overshadowed by his horror at the idea of leaving the bloody mess for his coworker to find. Wren hadn’t seemed to care about waiting for Mel to quickly clean up, sitting in Mels’, head leaned back and focusing on his breathing.

A car came up to pump 3 and the five pigeons skittered to the other end of the lot, away from small children that may come out of the car and give chase, but close enough to watch the cars’ family like it was a spectator sport, hoping for a scrap. The car rolled down the windows, the designated responsible adult got to work filling the tank, and the cavalry descended upon the store. 

Fatima had been understanding and passed on the information to his three other coworkers. According to Fatima - who from what little Mel had gleamed has dabbled in any job you can think of - blood is a biohazard that needs to be cleaned up to a specific degree, which she would double check when she arrive at the store. An hour early to her shift. Mel desperately for once wished he had formed any kind of a connection with his coworkers, something that could justify how nicely she was treating him. It was… kind. And it made his heart feel heavy. 

Three children burst into the store, followed by an adult. She tells them they each have 2 missions: one being to use the bathroom, the other to select a snack. They take the instructions very seriously, bouncing on their feet with excitement. The woman begins to mill around the store, looking with mild interest at the shelves and waiting for the children to finish their business, purse and wallet handy. 

Mel had to drive back to the gas station with Wren. The hour distance from town, for the first time, feeling something like a curse. If there had been a way for Mel to drive both their cars down originally, he would have. Wren was too tired to fill the air with small talk, and Mel didn’t have the emotional capacity for it. He spent an hour wondering if the doctors had unstitched his amateur stitches and the idea that what he had put so much effort and concentration into sewing those little lines into another man only for them to be unpicked… it made him feel a funny sort of way. An emotion that was not easy to unspool. In the nothingness of 3am, Mel didn’t care to put the effort into untangling the snaggle. When Mel asked if the doctors had cleared Wren to drive, he had just waved the idea off with one of his hands. That had been that. 

The children emerge out of the bathrooms and begin to circle the store noisily, arguing over the pros and cons of seemingly every single snack within the store. Mel tries to watch their interactions, appreciate the ways that the smallest child displays its’ frustrations with larger gestures than the older sibling. Children are easier to read, not learning subtlety yet. Yet, as Mel looked on at the scene before him, it morphed. The light from the windows dimmed, the people disappeared, and in the theatre that was his brain, Mel saw Wren staggering across the store. In his minds eye the few drops of blood that had slipped through his compressed hand were exaggerated, staining the cheap tile floor a permanent red in large streaks. 

Mel rings the small family up as a new car parks. As two more set up next to pumps. As pigeons bob their heads. The day flows slowly through the cracks, dripping from day to night to Mel driving home in darkness alone with the his head playing games that Wren is in the passenger seat. 

oOo

When Wren reappears, dusty green car easing into the lot and parking gingerly into a space, Mel digs resolves to ignore him. To treat him just like any customer. Wren doesn’t even give him a chance.

“Melchior!” He enters the store like a hurricane, eyes bright and face illuminated with enthusiasm. It’s almost like he’s purposefully trying to shatter the previous image of himself that repeatedly walks through the store like a ghost - tense and quiet. This time, Wren walks in so full of life that it fills the room around him like Uncle Haniels’ cologne. 

Mel grips his detached anger tightly with both hands, somewhat literally as they dig into surplus of fabric that make up his jacket sleeves. There are three other people in the store right now. Two at pumps, four cars parked. It’s busy, not exactly the time to chat. 

“Wren.” Mel nods at the man and watches half of the muscles in Wrens’ smiling face go slack for half a second. In that fraction of a moment Wren must rally himself, and the expression appears with a reinforced gusto. 

“How are you doing? Are you okay?” Wren looks Mel up and down, like Mel was the one that had to get sewed up my an amateur two weeks ago. Mel chews on his lips and on the thought in tandem - two weeks ago. 15 days, technically. 

“I’m fine.” He clips out. Wren laughs and adjusts him ballcap.

“Your voice says otherwise.” Oh haha, Wren can read tone and facial expressions and body language easily. Mel doesn’t even know what Wren gleans from his answer, because Mel doesn’t know if its true or not. One of Wrens hands - calloused and scarred - rubs at his face, and he seems to sober up from the enthusiasm a bit. The muscles in his face relax a little more, but do not sag down into neutrality. “Look, Melchior, I needed to take a bit. To heal. I really shouldn’t have driven home in the first place. I’m sorry it took me so long to come back.” 

The words shock Mel. He mentally rewinds the tape and plays it again. Have you ever heard something said out loud, and then realized once the words are gone there is no proof that what you heard had actually existed? Sounds don’t leave evidence in the air. Mel wonders if Wren said anything at all, for a moment. It seems more likely, somehow, that he had projected this entire interaction (a lie to himself, his projections were always such a thin layer over reality that they could never be mistaken as real) than that Wren was just… being honest with him.

“I…” Mel swishes the words around his mouth. The lonely ‘I’ could vanish into nothingness in the air, never having existed, if Wren wasn’t looking at him so intently. Behind Wren, a customer is shifting around nervously, holding two family bags of chips and a six pack of beers. “I think we can talk later.” 

Wrens’ face crashes, and adrenaline pumps through Mels’ veins unbidden. Shit shit shit. He pounds his fist into his leg three time to accentuate each thought. He said something wrong. This is not the reaction he had anticipated to his words. But was it the words that were wrong, or the tone? 

“Sorry, yeah, you’re at work. I, uh, I’m sure I’ve already put your job enough at risk huh?” Wren scratches the back of his head, and his face shifts into a new expression. He starts to make a motion to leave, and something in Mels’ head clicks into place. 

“I get off my shift at 5.” Mel clarifies. “Come back then.” Wrens’ face clears up, bursts back into the expression he makes the most often, the once Mel actually knows. A smile. 

“I’ll be here.”

oOo

There isn’t really anywhere for them to go, not when the empty desert stretches for miles in either direction. The gas station is a waypoint, not a destination. So Wren and Mel sit down on the bench in front of the window. Mel counts cars. 

“I’ve been thinking.” Wren is, of course, the one to break the silence. Mel feels like an intrepid explorer in uncharted territory, except the uncharted territory is the concept of hanging out with a person that isn’t family when he isn’t actively at work. Mel tilts his head sideways and looks at Wren, waits for Wren to decide what he’s going to say, he thinks that somethigns Wren just starts sentences without planning where he’s going with them. “20 stitches. Did you space them out just so you could get an even number?” 

Mels’ face is heating up traitorously. 

“It- I- The number-” Wren lets out a boisterous laugh and leans back on the bench comfortably. It soothes Mels’ embarrassment, despite the fact that had it been Zeph doing that it would have riled him up more. 

“The hospital kept them in, thank god. Imagine if they had done an awkward number, like 37.” He leans his head back and complains to the sky and the gas stations tin roof. “That would not have helped my moral healing up.” 

Mel almost lets out a small laugh at that. Almost. It gets caught halfway in his throat, like it doesn’t know what to do with the sound. Wren laughs too. 

“I really appreciate what you did for me, back there. I’m really sorry, I wasn’t thinking when I got here. I just needed somewhere safe and well lit to take care of myself. Not a lot of options, clear out here.” Wren sighs and adjusts how he’s sitting. Now that they’re outside, the sun shining and reflecting off the window, Mels’ jacket is stifling. He shrugs it off and places it in his lap, where he can knead his fingers into the fabric.  

“Do you actually do handyman stuff?” Mels’ been wondering for a while now. Another bark of laughter - Wren seems to be made up of smiles and laughs and the twinkle that lights up in his eyes - the color of freshly tilled earth. 

“My, uh, hobby doesn’t pay, so yeah, I do. And yeah, it really does take me all over the area.”

“Are you going to tell me your hobby?” Wren clicks his tongue at the question, purses his lips. 

“I kind of want to, which is weird. I usually don’t give a shit, but I mean, you definitely helped me out of a shitty situation there. But you’re really better off not knowing.” 

A decade ago Mel stands flush against a wall, not daring to breath, and listens to a conversation between a handful of his aunts and uncles. Discussing Melchior. He recalls hearing Uncle Boaz insist that ‘His mother told us to never reveal the truth to the boy’ and Aunt Esther following it with ‘Melchior is better off not knowing.’ 

Mel is turning the words over in his mind, thinking. Wren must find some kind of meaning or message in his silence a he pushes himself to talk more. 

“The stuff I deal with… I mean it’s not good stuff. It’s pretty freaky, sometimes. Obviously it gets me hurt.” Wren pats his knee. “Don’t want other people getting hurt.” He rises to his feet, fumbling a bit with something in his pocket. How Wren can still be wearing his signature jacket, Mel doesn’t know. Must be sweating like a pig under the layers. “I have some work down east, for a bit. Probably be stuck on that side of the mountains for a few weeks, but I - well -” He pulls his fist out of his pocket and holds it out to Mel, wrist bent slightly. Mel obediently cups his palms under the fist, understanding the gesture. When Wren opens his fist a grumbled piece of paper falls into Mels’ open hands. “My number, just in case you wanna keep in touch. Or something like that.”

oOo

Mel buys a phone. He doesn’t have a lot of fluid money - the paychecks he gets are pretty much just enough to cover the cost of rent, gas, and the cheapest food he can find. In the back of his head he knows that the income of two people would make this all easier, but back then running had seemed like the only choice. Mel thinks that the phone is very fancy - the front face of it has a square screen, below which are the standard buttons for a phone much like the landline at the Seminary. It had a hidden keyboard that could be slid out, which was easier and faster to type with. 

It was difficult to describe it accurately through text, and three weeks later when Wren returned to the stations side of the mountains and swung by he had taken one look at it and laughed for a solid minute. 

“I think my grandpa has that exact phone.” Wrens’ knuckles are red and raw. He holds the phone in his hand like it is an ancient artifact, marveling at the ‘shk’ and tactile feel of the keyboard. It’s Mel’s favorite part - while he’s at work he finds himself opening and closing the keyboard as he stares out the window and counts the cars. 

Wren leaves Mel large blocks of texts at a time. He talks through the problems with the house he’s currenlty working on - Mel never really understands exactly what Wren is talking about when he does that but enjoys reading it nevertheless. Wren talks about types of electrical currents and types of water heaters. Other times Wren discusses the most inane topics - what’s the best kind of apple, why he hates Douglas Pear trees, the pros and cons of Hawaiian pizza. Wren isn’t rude when Mel doesn’t seems to know what he’s talking about, just seems excited to share. Leaves new paragraphs about apple textures and about invasive plant species. 

Wren must know there’s something wrong with Mel. About the way he doesn’t know anything about pop culture or commonalities of the world. If he wonders, he never asks, and it’s a relief. 

Mel is a lamppost, figuratively, stuck in one place. He is a cactus out on the desert, unmoving. Wren takes jobs all over the state and neighboring ones, and once or twice even beyond that, but he always seems to end up passing through Mels’ ‘neck of the woods’ and staying for a day. Chatting at the register becomes talking on the bench outside becomes Wren meeting up with Mel in town on one of his days off and exposing him to the world of a pizza buffet. The next time they text Mel is able to give his own informed opinion on Hawaiian pizza. 

He isn’t sure why Wren puts in the effort to constantly return here. 

A darker part of Mel, hidden inside of himself, starts to develop a theory. 

Perhaps the answer is something that Mel would be better off not knowing. 

“You got a new jacket.” Mel remarks as Wren takes a seat on the booth opposite of him. The town Mel stays in is small, and yet every time Wren drops by he seems to have found a new cafe or restaurant for them to try. 

“Winter isn’t the time for that threadbare thing.” Wrens’ eyes rove around Mels’ figure. “I see you’re still floating the church boy look.” Mel looks down at himself. A short sleeve shirt buttoned up to the collar - he may need to start pulling out the long sleeves soon - tucked into a pair of slacks, worn with his scuffed loafers. The oversized red jacket. Mel shrugs in response and fiddles with the little jelly packets that sit complementary at the table. Whoever was here previously mixed up the piles so Mel lays them out on the table and sorts them. Wren looks at the jellies and wrinkles his nose. 

“Apple jelly? I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of that. Isn’t grape kind of the standard?” Wren invents a topic to gnaw on, like a dog with a bone. 

“Grape jelly is new to me.” Mel says, stacking the four different options into piles. Strawberry, Apple, Grape, and Raspberry. 4, 6, 2, and 3. His brain begins to consider possible patterns. Wren doesn’t seem surprised by the insight. 

“It’s kind of the archetypical jelly. Peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches are what I ate for pretty much every lunch elementary school.” Wren comments. “My sister would get fancy with her lunches at shit - my parents never packed us lunches - but I’d do the bare minimum.” Mel hums in acknowledgement at the anecdote and Wren watches at Mel starts to make a pyramid of the jellies, apples on the bottom row. “What kind of jelly did you usually have back where you grew up.” 

‘Back where you grew up’ was the very versatile phrase that Wren used to encapsulate all of Mels’ backstory. He obviously knew that Mel didn’t have the typical Americana suburbia middle class upbringing, and rather than pry into the details, he asked questions about jelly. 

“We didn’t have jelly.” Mel said. “We had jam.” 

“There’s a difference?” Wren asks. Mels’ head titls to the side and looks at Wren. He wonders if Wren genuinely didn’t know - he;s fairly certain that sometimes Wren would fake ignorance for the sake of letting Mel talk more. Whether this was a common behavior for people outside the Seminary or just a Wren thing, Mel has yet to determine. 

“Jelly doesn’t have the…” Mel frowned, trying to find the right words. “Jelly is smooth and uniform.” That felt a bit better. “Jam has the viscera of the fruit.” Wren wrinkled his nose at Mels’ word choice. “The seeds and skin and pulp.”

“Viscera makes it sound way nastier.” 

“Apples were usually dehydrated, and grapes were made into juices and wines. Usually our jams were made out of our peaches. They get extremely soft when ripe and therefore are well suited for jam making. Berries too, but there’s a larger required haul of berries for jam. Our ratio of peach jam to berry jam always highly favored peach.” 

“You know, I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of peach jam. Is it any good?” 

The waitress returns with waters and takes their orders as the conversations continues to spill out easily between them. Wrens’ topic today is about his sister - she lives up in Oregon where the rains are plenty. She does the same job that Wren does up there, handiwork across the east coast and even over into Montana. Occasionally there’ll be a job up in Idaho that’s just far enough and close enough for both of them to meet and tackle it. Mel does not ask if the job is fixing pipes or Wrens’ hobby that leaves him with bruises and black eyes. 

Wren picks at the cranberry chicken sandwich and looks out the window. The parking lot has 9 cars currently parked. Someone is rolling up the drive through line. Wrens’ commentary rolls over him, a background as Wren sees himself outside. There are no pigeons here, instead three starlings hop around the lot. 

“Something outside?” Wren is angling his head out the window too, now, trying to figure out what has Mels’ attention. Mel flushes. 

“No.” A pause. “Starlings. And some cars.” Wren nods and does not pry. It takes Wren longer to eat that Mel, because he runs his mouth so much and has to remember to take pauses between his thoughts to snag a bite or two. Mel used to do this kind of thing, with some of his siblings, at the Seminary. Eat and listen, be in good company and good food. Then Raguel and Zephaniah and Astrophel and all the lot turned 12 and left him behind. Started to be trained and do research in the portion of the library that Mel wasn’t allowed in, have conversations that would halt whenever they realized Mel was in earshot. 

Mel got used to sitting alone, looking out the window, watching, or otherwise gazing up at the stained glass. 

Wren talked about his sisters’ current girlfriend. Mel smiles and turns his gaze back inside to watch the movements of Wrens’ facial muscles as he recounts a story, hands moving animatedly. 

oOo

“How was the shift?” Crickets somewhere in the desert called out as if to give their opinions to the question. The night has cold nip to it, and it colors Wrens’ cheeks and ears red. 

“The same.” Mel shoves his hands into his pockets, surveys the lot. The only cars are the expected three, all parked. He still lacked the words to describe that his shifts were not boring - though they seldom created the elaborate stories that Wren would share from his own work. 

“Usually I find the venues.” Wren commented. 3 am. The gas station as always had become what was left of the entire world. Wren smiled at Mel, and Mel sucked in a deep breath of the cold air, allowing it to fill his lungs. It felt sharp. 

“Follow me.” With confident steps Mel crossed the parking lot, Wren falling into rhythm beside him. 

“It’s within walking distance?” Mel nodded. “I’ll be honest, I almost thought your ‘favorite spot’ was going to be letting me stand behind the counter.” Wren smiled as he said the words as they passed the stations pumps, and Mel let out a small puff of air, the lightest version of a laugh. 

“I think it was a safe assumption. I’m not really known for exploring.” Mel admitted. The pair approached the edge of the parking lot, the edge of the ring of light, the edge of the world. Mel hesitated for a moment, as he always did. And then took a step into the darkness of primordial space.

In the safety of the dark, of things not yet created or born, Mel felt an recklessness begin to burn in his chest. Impulsively Mel grabbed Wrens’ hand and began to run. 

They crossed the lonely two lanes of middle-of-nowhere highway to the plot of land that sat opposite the gas station. It was empty - dirt and squat shrubs - and Mel ran the disappointingly small distance it took for his lungs to begin to object to the movement and then stopped all at once. Wren did not let go of his hand even as the Mel jerked to a standstill. He tilted his head up to the sky. There was no moon tonight, and the blood pumping through his body and his head made the view even more dizzying and dazzling. 

“Oh.” Wrens’ voice, singing through the darkness. 

“Yeah.” Mel, breathless. 

They stood there for a moment, several moments, out where time had no meaning where the world did not exist yet in the dark of the night, and looked at the stars. Out here, far enough away from any proper towns, a distance from the lights of the gas station, they were beautiful diamond scattered across navy velvet. Candles pitched into the air. Lightning bugs held in a perfect formation. 

For eight solid breaths, each one marked by a puff of condensation from Mel’s mouth, the two of them just stand there and look up in awe. At breath nine Wren leaves for the parking lot, and at breath 15 he returns with two camping chairs. 

“I got the job here before I got my apartment.” Mel could sit out here for hours, looking at the stars, and not say a word. But he doesn’t want to. “I stole his car and drove until I realized that there was nothing I could do without some source of income. So I stopped here and begged for a job.” 

“Ran away from your family.” A statement from Wren, steady and unjudgemental. 

“It’s more complicated than that.” 

“You don’t have to tell me, Melchior.” Wren always uses his full name. Mel never corrects him. Wren never demands more than Mel is willing to give. In the darkness of the unreal world that is night beyond the gas station lot, Mel wants to give it all. 

“I grew up away from civilization. A farm - they called it the Seminary - in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere out east. I had…” Mel lets out a puff of air, and looks at the stars. “...a couple dozen siblings. And more aunts and uncles. Sometimes if one of my siblings got old enough and I wasn’t close enough to them, they’d kinda become more like an aunt or uncle.” 

“That’s…” Wren cleared his throat. “...a big family.” Wren has talked at length about his family - just him and his sister, really. Their parents lived up in Canada somewhere, moved when they got old enough. 

“My dad was never in the picture, and my mom died when I was a baby. Living at the Seminary we were off the grid, and when you got old enough, you were trained.” Mel left a gap of air, for Wren to ask:

“Trained for what?” 

“I never found out. I was kept out of the loop. Did the chores and some of the text translations.” 

“I know this is your family, Melchior, but that,” Wren took off his hat and pushed at his hair for a moment. “...I mean maybe it isn’t my place but this sounds like a cult.” 

“I’ve started to think it was.” Mel traced patterns in the stars with his eyes. 

Quiet settles between them for a moment. Curiosity wafts off Wren, and Mel can feel his eyes returning time and time again to his face. 

“If you were there for your entire life, and you weren’t allowed to leave, why are you here?” Wren finally asks, when can’t stand it any longer and gives in. Mel knew he would. 

“Somthing happened, I’m not sure what. I remember,” Mel closes his eyes and the images flash behind his eyelids. “...I remember gunshots. And screams, and blood. My brother, Raguel, came for me, grabbed me by my wrist, and took me away. Got me out of there.” He takes a deep, steadying breath. “Through anything that stood in our way.” 

“Anything?” 

Mel mulls the words over in his mouth, trying to decide if he is really going to say this. Really going to expose this out into the world. The world that is just him and Wren. It feels like confessional, under the blanket of stars. It feels like something he needs to say, before what he think is coming happens. 

“I watched Raguel kill. Zephaniah. One of my other brothers. Took a knife and stabbed him, slit his throat. The knife was already bloody when he grabbed me, so I, he must have. You know. And the only one I saw was Zeph. But he got me out - took one of the only cars the Seminary had and got me out of there. Whatever was going down, I was probably a sitting duck.”

“He took us to a motel and told me about his plans to keep me safe. That he was gonna get a job, protect me. Tell me the truth. But I was a afraid of him. Every time I looked at Raguel I thought of how quickly he had killed Zeph, how easily.” Mels’ voice is shaking, as if saying this is physically exhausting. It feels like it is. He can’t stop the words that come out now, like he’s expelling a poison from his body. Mel wants someone to know this before it ends. “I stole his car and I ran away. Until I ended up here.” 

“Melchior…” Mel didn’t need to look, didn’t need to decipher any of that from facial expressions and body language.

Pity.

oOo

The end of Mels’ world, the crashing in of the darkness beyond the gas station, comes in mid November. Almost exactly a year after the night he ran away. Mel had felt it approaching him for month, like a persistence hunter. He thinks that he had known it’s approach since that first time he had talked to Wren. This was poetic, symmetrical. Mel was glad it was almost exactly a year. 

His apartment is a mess, objects tossed around. Not that he had that many possessions in the first place. It’s a little insulting that it happens when he was previously sleeping, just wearing his boxers. An unnatural chill fills the air, and it makes his breath visible like it had been a month ago when he had talked to Wren under the stars. A supernatural force pushes him up against the wall, and he can feel the bruises forming on his arms. 

The vague image of a human appears in the middle of the room, empty eyes and a decaying skull and the copper scent of blood. If Mel squints he can see Zephs’ jawline, maybe. 

“Fuck off!” The door to the apartment is kicked open and Wren emerges into the room. He wields a firepit stoker and swings it through the ghost without hesitation. The image scatters, and Mel drops to the floor as the force against him disappears. Wren is at his side before he can even slump against the wall. His hands are where the specters had been, slightly misaligned from it’s handprints. 

“Melchior, Mel, are you okay?” He doesn’t quite register the question, looks at the place where the ghost had been. 

“I knew it.” The words are vindicating to say. “You hunt monsters.” Wren freezes. 

“I, this is,” Wren is taught for a moment, and then his shoulders slump. “Yeah.” 

“You’re hunting me.” Mel follows up. Wrens’ facial muscles move drastically at his assertion.

“No I’m - Melchior I’m sorry. I thought I took care of this ghost but it hopped from me to you when I swung by last week. That’s all.” 

“You know about me.” Mel insists. Wren isn’t understanding that it’s okay, what Mel knows.

“Is this about… about your family?” Mel shakes his head so violently it might fall off his shoulders. It might in a second anyway. 

“No I’m - Wren it’s okay I know I’m not human. I’m wrong.” He explains, looking eagerly at Wren. He knows he knows he knows. “That’s why - I’m not right. I don’t think things right. Why they kept me separate. Maybe even why Raguel killed Zeph.” Mel tilts his head up. “You hunt monsters, you must have known from the start. That’s why you keep hanging out with me, so that you can figure out what I am and kill me. I’m ready.” Maybe the eye contact is scaring him off. Mel closes his eyes. 

All Wren has is the poker, but he must know how to use it. Hopefully he can make it fast. Maybe he has some concealed weapons. Those could help. They were protecting him, at the Seminary. And out here he is so tired of trying so hard to be human.

The poker clatters to the floor. 

Mel opens his eyes just in time to see Wren raise both of his hands, cradling Mel’s face. 

“Mel…” He shakes his head and his voice hitches. When Wren looks back at Mel there are tears in his eyes. “...Yeah Mel, I hunt monsters, but you aren’t one. You had a shitty upbringing, and you’re - hell I mean I doubt it was a thing where you grew up but you’re probably autistic or have ocd or something  - but you’re human Mel.” Wren sighs and runs a hand through Mels’ hair. Fuck. When was the last time someone did that? Raguel, when Mel had been pretending to sleep, before he stole the car. 

“I hang out with you because I like you, Mel.” 

“I’m not…” Mel slumps forward, rests his forehead against Wrens’ shoulder. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Wren murmurs into Mels’ curly hair. “I’m sure.” 

Mel sits like that for a while, to the rising and falling of Wrens’ chest. He feels more than hears when the breath hitches, preparing to speak. 

“I gotta - that ghost is going to come back if I don’t take care of it.” Wren shits and Mel leans back against the wall. Wren scans Mels’ face, seems to find something there. “Come on.” He rises to his feet, and a gentle hand on Mels’ arm assists him in following suit. “You can tag along. I think we need to talk.” 

oOo

Even the desert gets it snow, even if it waits to come until early January. The gas station has a new kind of quiet so soon after the holidays. Late December was marked with a flurry of travelers, but now that the fesitivies have passed everyone seems content to stay home for the foreseeable weeks. The people that stop by the gas station are mostly truck drivers.

And Wren. 

Mel feels strange to be standing in the new year. He had thought - no - he had known that he would die before January. That the thing that he had felt breathing down his neck his entire life, this dread that had swallowed him, would finally reach him before then. And it did. Only to appear and reveal that it was just himself. Just Mel. 

Wren talks him through a lot of it - survivors guilt, abuse, ptsd, anxiety. A laundry list of reasons why he probably had felt that way. In February he’s going to help Mel find a therapist. 

Ghost are real. And werewolves and witches and everything that goes bump in the night. Mel can’t find it in himself to be surprised. It just makes sense. It must have been what the Seminary had trained to do, and were sent out take care of. Kept it a secret from Mel, because of his dying mothers request. Learning monsters are real is easy to take in stride, realizing that he isn’t one is something Mel is still trying to figure out how to deal with. 

Wrens’ green car putters up the station and parks. 2 cars parked - 3, Mel adjusts his count as a beat up red truck slides into view, turning off the highway to the station and ignoring the pumps. 

Barely even looking, Wren snags a pack of gum and slams it on the counter, paired with a five dollar bill. 

“Play me my favorite song?” He beseeches, and with a smile Mel rings it up, letting the register fly open and call out it’s hedgehog chime. Mel still has to remind himself to lower his head, to lot look up at some unreachable thing constantly, but it’s getting easier. 

“How was the hunt?” Mel asks, absentmindedly flapping the oversized sleeves of his sweatshirt back and forth. 

“Pffft, a bitch.” Wren says, hands already moving in a flurry. “You ever try to find an unmarked grave in the snow?”

“I had to help break the ice on the irrigation canals a couple winters.” 

“Fucking miserable.” Wren agrees. “But luckily I had some help on this one.” He breaks eye contact with Mel when he says that, and Mel tilts his head to the side. Odd, unlike Wren. 

“It’s a long way for your sister to come.” Mel states. Wren nods and pushes his hand around on his stubble. 

“They, uh, he, well-”

“Mel.” 

The door chimes in tune with the sound of a new voice - of a familiar voice - and Mel looks past Wren to the door of the gas station. The voice is easy to identify, but the figure that stands before him takes longer to match with the image in his head. 

Raguel looks different. His hair has been grown out from the Seminarys’ standard cut into the beginning of dreads, and he wears a sweater instead of the button ups, and glasses, and he has a bit of a beard growing. Cargo pants and thick hiking boots and he’s filled out more and its Raguel. 

“I’m gonna go fill up my tank.” And Wren leaves the two of them, facing each other without any words to say. 

Raguel sighs, something sad and something soft, and smiles. He’s already crying. 

“Mel.” He repeats, and opens his arms wide. Mel runs out from behind the counter into the arms of the brother he ran away from. 

“Are you mad?” Mel asks voice hoarse, and Raguel kisses the top of his head. 

“I’m just happy you’re okay.” Raguel holds his out and scans him up and down, smiles. Raguel never used to smile like that at the Seminary. “I was wondering where my jacket went.” Mel coughs out a wet laugh.

It’s the middle of winter, but it feels like the new cycle of life is already beginning. 

[onlygot20mins]

Inspired by the dead bird post, and because I'm an ornithology person in another life, here's more--

Diego and Birds:

"We can learn much from observing our winged visitors. Each has it's own personality."

"Ring-neck doves, grouse, and quail all abound in California, but not homing pigeons." Diego knows his local avifauna!

El original, "Pobrecillo." aka dead bird

"Oh don't worry, she's not hurt." aka not dead bird!:)

Disapproval: Don Diego not believing for one second that bad guy of the week is qualified to handle that beautiful Peregrine. About to go start some legal polices for the regulation of falconry practice in Mexico, because we love a good side project!

Justice for the people. Justice and freedom for the fastest bird on earth!! (Just be careful now if you're one of those doves or quail😅)

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fics Named After Animals (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

Birds (ao3) - HappyHoloLady

Summary: Phil is a library volunteer who somehow ends up helping with a children’s activity. And as he’s working, he can’t help but notice the curly haired stranger who is really good with kids and really good at making him smile.

Birds and Flowers (ao3) - lovestillaround

Summary: Phil loves plants and Dan loves cut flowers.

Birdsong - phandabbydosey

Summary: Dan has been deaf since birth and, living in a hearing world, deep down he’s always wanted to be able to hear, wanted to know what it’s like to. But when he learns about the Cochlear Implant, an amazing device that could give him what he wants, Dan struggles against his proudly deaf family and himself to decide if he should be ‘fixed’ or not.

Bird Watching Club - placingglaciers

Summary: In which it is Dan’s first year at university where he learns a lot, meets his new best friend, experiences things he never thought he ever would, and understands what it exactly means to be happy, free, confused, and lonely (at the same time).

Dan and Phil and DOG (ao3) - nivi_chip

Summary: It’s Phil’s birthday, and Dan gets him a gift that’s long overdue

Dog Days - adorablehowell

Summary: When Phil blindly agrees to take care of someone’s dog, he and Dan must endure the troubles of handling a dog and hiding her from their landlord.

Lovebirds (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan and Phil, two avid birdwatchers bond over their mutual love for birds (and for each other. But that comes later.)

Love Birds (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: "i started a bird watching club at school and you are the only one who showed up at the first meeting so now i love you"

phantom butterflies (ao3) - schnaf

Summary: Dan still got butterflies in his stomach when he sees Phil. But what if they're only phantom butterflies?

pigeons (ao3) - SylvesterLester

Summary: Dan is wondering if it’s too late to admit he really doesn't care for pigeons all that much.

Or, it's 2017, and the two just moved to the new flat which has a balcony and a new hyper fixation for Phil.

Puppy Love - fiction-phan

Summary: “We’re neighbours who don’t really talk but your dog may have gotten my dog pregnant. We must raise this little puppy family together!”

Puppy Love - paradisobound

Summary: Dan and Phil’s daughter Macey has been asking for a puppy for a while. So they decide to adopt a puppy for Christmas.

Puppy Makes Three (ao3) - theoreoqueen

Summary: The story on how Dan and Phil get a dog, as told from the dog’s point of view.

purple hat, cheetah print (ao3) - chickenfree Pairing: Dan/Phil/Chris/PJ

Summary: “If you touch my dick I will kill you,” PJ says, conversationally.

Phil eyes them. “Is that a threat or –”

silly old bear (ao3) - angelmichelangelo

Summary: dan and phil have a problem with their new dog

The Centipede Attack (ao3) - natigail

Summary: It had just been a chilled evening until a certain many-legged thing decided to disrupt the peace. But Phil is very capable and Dan is more than happy to help him calm down afterward.

The One With the Magical Cat - auroraphilealis

Summary: Phil wakes up to find his boyfriend and a cat have switched bodies.

the serpent and the badger (ao3) - CallofTheCurlew

Summary: Dan’s getting a late night snack in the kitchens, when a certain Hufflepuff crosses his path.

The Wonders of Rhinoceroses (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan has a day off where he decides to go to the zoo. There, he finds something cuter than baby elephants.

two turtle doves (ao3) - ravels (orphan_account)

Summary: to say that christmas eve in the howell-lester household was a very busy event would be almost akin to saying, “the sun is rather warm.”

or, a quick obligatory christmasfic featuring parent!phan, baking, and milo the corgi.