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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 2 years ago

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To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 2

Welcome to the second chapter! As I've said before, this whole story is gonna be a bit long winded, so hopefully you're all in for the long term, hope you enjoy! <3

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls from England ended up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Kíli x oc/reader - Fíli x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company x ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - SUPER slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 2133

Warnings: Swearing

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

PLEASE READ THE PROLOGUE & CHAPTER 1 IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY

Want some background music? Check out my Soundtrack Playlist!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 >

PART 1: Chapter 2 -

I should've stayed in bed.

The Song Thrush has brown upper-parts and black-spotted cream or buff underparts. Its distinctive song, which has repeated musical phrases, has frequently been referred to in poetry.

I let out a groan as a hand tapped me repeatedly on the shoulder. I waved my arm about, eyes still shut tight until the onslaught stopped. Then came the unfortunate sound of curtains being ripped open.

“Girlie get the fuck up.” I heard.

Letting out more groans of complaint I rolled over away from the light as it poured into the dark room, only to be met with a wad of paper in the back of the head.

“Kate.” They said.

Now somewhat awake, I rolled back over and leant up on my elbow to face the perpetrator.

“What-?” I croaked in confusion.

Said perpetrator was glaring at me with wide eyes, sat on the opposite bed, arm still outstretched from throwing.

Looking down at what assaulted me, I picked up a leaflet, the front a picture of a waterfall, with the title ‘Magic of Ullswater’ printed in a bold white font. I looked back at Kay still perched on her bed, surprised that she was willingly conscious at this time of day, until I remembered our schedule.

“Ah,” I guiltily scrunched my face in realisation, “was this today?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed, pointing at the glaring number on her phone. “And it’s already seven!”

“Don’t worry, I’m up” I rolled out of bed and swung open the wardrobe doors, grabbing what I needed before heading to the bathrooms to freshen up and get ready. Within twenty minutes I was back in the room, halving my normal time since Kay being up this early meant she was truly determined to execute what she had planned. On an average day you wouldn’t see her fully awake until at least ten.

After a quick breakfast in the canteen, we went back up to ensure everything needed was packed and ready for today’s hike. After all, going to see the waterfall was one of the main reasons we had gone. You mention rocks to Kay and she is there.

We laced up our walking boots and headed outside, up the path until we reached the edge of the road where the shuttle bus dropped us off days earlier. The weather had changed for the better, the temperature hiked up to a comfortable twenty two degrees accompanied by a blue sunny sky. Perfect for today’s plans, where only summer clothes were required.

I wore my cream vest top tucked into my baggy olive green trousers, and a thick brown belt looped through, with a loose fitting chunky white cardigan left unbuttoned over the top, and of course my favourite white floral patterned socks.

Kay on the other hand, was in her cargo trousers, along with a grey cropped vest top and a thin zip up hoodie tied around her waist. Unfortunately Dr Martens and platform crocs weren’t the most suitable shoes for hiking, lest you want your ankles broken, so were replaced with hiking boots, and obviously waterproofs were packed away in our rucksacks just in case. As lovely as it was, you can never trust British weather.

Eventually, the local bus slowed to a stop. Sifting through my pockets I pulled out and counted up what loose change I had, handing it over. After stating our destination and receiving our tickets, we headed to the back of the relatively empty bus, which was surprising considering it was the middle of summer. We both placed down our rucksacks and sat on either side of the aisle, propping up our feet on the other seats. With a groan and a jolt, the bus’s engine sprang back to life, and begun its journey down the road, over the vast rolling hills.

“Hey.” I looked away from the window at the sound of Kay speaking, “Did you remember to bring the passes?”

I leant back in mock offense. “Of course.” I retorted. “Must you deem me that unreliable??”

She snorted at my reaction. “Well you forgot what day it was earlier, so I had to double check.”

I deadpanned at her, reaching into my bag to procure two sheets of paper, shoving them up at Kay so she could see the print. “I double checked at least ten times, after all this saves us the twenty quid entry.”

Kay sat back with a quiet sigh of relief, whilst I safely tucked the papers back away. Looking back, I asked her which part of the trail she wanted to visit first.

Her eyes darted around as they narrowed in thought.

“The waterfall.” She declared. “You’ve been before, is it close to the entrance?”

“Somewhat.” I answered as I picked at my lip. “Within a fifteen-ish minute walk of the car park.”

“As long as you actually remember where to go.” She taunted, before laughing at my frown. “Cuz I wanna see some stratification.” She said eagerly, tapping on what looked like a diagram in the book laid on her lap.

“Well as long as you don’t start licking the rocks as soon as we get there, otherwise you’ll scare the children off.” I tormented, ducking down giggling as the book was launched at my head.

Soon enough, we arrived, and after proving to Kay that I actually knew the route, we followed the continuous thunder until we reached the 65 foot waterfall, now towering ahead of us. Kay jogged ahead, eager to reach the moss covered bridge that curved over the deep ravine that the water had carved into the rock. At halfway she stopped to lean over the fence, facing down into the narrow abyss of water below, tilting enough to the point where her legs began to lift from the floor.

“Oi!” I cried, jogging to catch up. “You can’t swim, so if you fall, don’t think I’m going in after you.”

“Are you a lifeguard or not?” She pointed out incredulously, leaning further over in a taunting manner. “It’s literally you’re job to go after me.”

“Well it’s not like I’m being paid right now to do so.” I answered as I caught up to her. “Pay me my hourly rate and then I’ll think about going after you.”

She scoffed in disbelief at my audacity before her attention returned to admire the waterfall before her.

It wasn’t long before a high pitched trill from above caught my attention. Raising my head, I stared at the dense foliage above me, watching as it churned ever so gently with the calm summer breeze. I squinted my eyes at the flickering dapples of light that peeked through the leaves, until my attention focused on a singular bird nestled in between the gentle chaos all around.

‘A song thrush!’ I realised, recognising the bird’s brown feathers and white speckled underbelly. I watched with intent as it flittered between the treetops. Taking out the polaroid camera I was gifted for my birthday, I took as many pictures as I could before it darted away and disappeared into the trees beyond the footpath.

My eyes followed said footpath and from a distance, I managed to make out a clearing bathed in the scattered beams of the midday sun. Storing the now printed pictures in the front pocket of my bag, I poked Kay’s shoulder and pointed to what I could see.

“How about we have lunch down there?” I suggested, remembering I had managed to bring the picnic blanket this time.

She nodded in agreement, and we both made our way over. After decided what was the sunniest spot, we laid out the blanket and sat down, putting out the food we were able to fit in our bags.

“That bird.” Came Kay��s voice, half muffled by her hand that was hiding her mouthful of sandwich as she spoke. “What was it?”

I swallowed what I could of my own sandwich before replying, figuring that she most likely heard the shutter of my camera.

“A song thrush, according to some article I read a while back they’re quite common round these parts”.

“I didn’t know you birdwatched?” She pondered.

“I did quite a bit when was younger. To be fair though, I only recognised it because of The Hobbit.” I admitted.

Kay’s eyes widened in realisation, and we both pointed at each other with a grin. “Of course!” She laughed, before turning back to her sandwich. “When the thrush knocks!”

“Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole.” I recited without a stutter.

Kay lowered her sandwich and turned back towards me slowly, side-eyeing me with a face of suspicion. I side-eyed back.

“Your short term memory should’ve taken that in and flung it out the other side.” She disputed.

I frowned.

“And you didn’t even mess up the words once.”

Side-eyeing her once more and slowly brought my phone to my face. She glared in even further suspicion as I began to furiously type away at the keyboard. Within seconds she had enough.

“Ok what the fuck are you typing over there.” She demanded, discarding her sandwich, and speeding across the blanket to stare over my shoulder and began to read aloud. “Kay is anti-mental disorde— ??? I’M NOT DISSING YOUR ADHD???? NO. DON’T SEND THAT TO THE GROUPCHAT. KATE. SWEAR DOWN I WILL— NO! TAKE YOUR FINGER AND PRESS DELETE RIGHT NOW. NO NO NO. ROXIE WILL EAT ME ALIVE. DELETE THAT SHIT. NO. COME BACK.”

I cackled as I leaped up and ran the length of the clearing, watching as she scrambled up in a frenzy after me. I felt a buzz from my phone and held it up in front of me to read aloud any replies from the chat, interrupted every so often by Kay’s aggravated screams of frustration.

She chased me around the grass, until we both collapsed back on the blanket, too exhausted to carry the conflict further. She pointed her finger at me accusingly.

“You better delete it.” She managed between heaves. I held out my hand expectantly.

“That’ll be ten pounds.” I requested with a grin on my face.

“Oh, piss off.” She groaned exasperatedly, shoving my shoulder as a laughed.

Squabble over, she rolled over to pick up and return to the geography book she read on the bus. I did the same, but with The Hobbit, that I had coincidentally decided to pack for the day’s trip.

Later, we packed up the picnic and explored the forest for a few hours, wandering off the path a few times to look for rocks or plants.

A chilly breeze blew past and I checked the time, seeing the numbers on my phone screen tell me that it was time to turn back around.

“Hey Kay,” I called, receiving a loud “YEA?” from the bushes behind me, “we should think about heading back, if we wanna make it to the canteen for tea.”

She agreed, standing up from where she was crouched over a small stream, most likely looking for some type of mineral deposit, or whatever she was reading about in her book earlier. Slinging our bags back over our shoulders, we both began to make our way back down the path, dodging the jagged roots and rocks. A short while passed before we reached the clearing we had eaten in earlier, the opening in the trees showed that the sky had begun to change colour, causing us to quicken our paces slightly to ensure we wouldn’t get caught out in the wilderness at night.

It wasn’t long before we were back at the waterfall, and we began our crossing of the bridge before Kay slowed down again like last time. I slowed too, and we both stopped in the middle to spend a moment, taking once last look at the towering waterfall, now bathed in the orange light of the evening’s golden hour.

A familiar chirp rang out through the trees, and I spun around, scouring the branches above me.

There it was again! The song thrush had reappeared, illuminated by the glow of the lowering sun. I crossed the width of the bridge to watch it as it chirruped and trilled its final song of the day. Eventually the swaying branches and fast movements of the fluttering creature caused me to lose sight of it. Kay’s footsteps sounded behind me as I heard her wander across a few steps, before quickly falling silent again. The thrush’s song came to an abrupt stop at almost the same time, and without a second thought, I decided it was time to keep going.

“Alright,” I declared, turning back towards Kay and the waterfall, “let’s go before—”

I blinked in surprise.

Looking around with widening eyes, panic and dread began to settle in my stomach as I came to the dreadful realisation.

Kay was nowhere to be seen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

< Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 >

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Can't wait to see you on the 31st March for Chapter 2! Also please comment if you want to be added to the Taglist <3

Taglist:

@opheliasdrowningg @mrsdurin

#the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x oc #kili x reader #fili #kili #fili x reader #hobbit x reader #fili x oc #kili x oc #thorins company x reader #thorins company #To the Shadows that Cry Witch #big soup #kili durin

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warriors-rewritten-chaos · 2 months ago

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Warrior Cats Prefixes- R

I had a WC Name Generator on Perchance that I made but I don't seem to have access anymore, so I'm remaking it here as just a simple list. The definitions used are the ones that Clan cats have for those things, and thus are the origins of the names. Definitions used are whatever I found when I googled it.

Rabbit-: "[noun] a burrowing, gregarious, plant-eating mammal with long ears, long hind legs, and a short tail"

Raccoon-: "[noun] a grayish-brown American mammal that has a foxlike face with a black mask and a ringed tail"

Ragged-: "[adj] torn; [adj] having an irregular or uneven surface, edge, or outline"

Ragweed-: "[noun] a North American plant of the daisy family. Its tiny green flowers produce copious amounts of pollen"

Ragwort-: "[noun] a yellow-flowered plant of the daisy family that is a common weed of grazing land"

Rain-: "[noun] moisture condensed from the atmosphere that falls visibly in separate drops"

Rainbow-: "[noun] an arch of colors formed in the sky in certain circumstances, caused by the refraction and dispersion of the sun's light by rain or other water droplets in the atmosphere"

Raindrop-: "[noun] a single drop of rain"

Rainy-: "[adj] (of weather, a period of time, or an area) having a great deal of rainfall"

Ram-: "[noun] a male sheep"

Rampion-: "[noun] a Eurasian plant of the bellflower family"

Rapid-: "[adj] happening in a short time or at a fast pace; [noun] a fast-flowing and turbulent part of the course of a river"

Raspberry-: "[noun] an edible soft fruit related to the blackberry, consisting of a cluster of reddish-pink drupelets; [noun] the plant that yields the raspberry, forming tall, stiff, prickly stems (canes)"

Rat-: "[noun] a rodent that resembles a large mouse, typically having a pointed snout and a long, sparsely haired tail"

Rattle-: "[verb] make or cause to make a rapid succession of short, sharp knocking sounds, typically as a result of shaking and striking repeatedly against a hard surface or object; [noun] a rapid succession of short, sharp, hard sounds"

Rattlesnake-: "[noun] a heavy-bodied American pit viper with a series of horny rings on the tail that, when vibrated, produce a characteristic rattling sound as a warning"

Raven-: "[noun] a large heavily built crow with mainly black plumage, feeding chiefly on carrion; [adj] of a glossy black color"

Ravine-: "[noun] a deep, narrow gorge with steep sides"

Red-: "[adj] of a color at the end of the spectrum next to orange and opposite violet, as of blood, fire, or rubies; [noun] red color or pigment"

Redwood-: "[noun] either of two giant conifers with thick fibrous bark"

Reed-: "[noun] a tall, slender-leaved plant of the grass family, which grows in water or on marshy ground"

Reflection-: "[noun] the throwing back by a body or surface of light, heat, or sound without absorbing it"

Resin-: "[noun] a sticky flammable organic substance, insoluble in water, exuded by some trees and other plants (notably fir and pine)"

Ridge-: "[noun] a long narrow hilltop, mountain range, or watershed"

Rime-: "[noun] frost formed on cold objects by the rapid freezing of water vapor in cloud or fog"

Ripple-: "[noun] a small wave or series of waves on the surface of water, especially as caused by an object dropping into it or a slight breeze"

River-: "[noun] a large natural stream of water flowing in a channel to the sea, a lake, or another such stream"

Roach-: "[noun] a scavenging insect that resembles a beetle, having long antennae and legs and typically a broad, flattened body"

Roam-: "[verb] move about or travel aimlessly or unsystematically, especially over a wide area"

Roaming-: "[adj] moving about aimlessly or unsystematically, especially over a wide area"

Robin-: "[noun] a small chiefly European thrush resembling a warbler and having a brownish-olive back and orangish face and breast"

Rock-: "[noun] the solid mineral material forming part of the surface of the earth, exposed on the surface or underlying the soil or oceans; [noun] a large piece of rock which has become detached from a cliff or mountain, like a boulder"

Rocky-: "[adj] consisting or full of rock or rocks"

Roe-: "[noun] a small deer, reddish and grey-brown, and well-adapted to cold environments"

Rolling-: "[adj] moving by turning over and over on an axis; [adj] (of land) extending in gentle undulations"

Rook-: "[noun] a gregarious Eurasian crow with black plumage and a bare face, nesting in colonies in treetops"

Rooster-: "[noun] a male domestic chicken"

Root-: "[noun] the part of a plant which attaches it to the ground or to a support, typically underground, conveying water and nourishment to the rest of the plant via numerous branches and fibers"

Rose-: "[noun] a prickly bush or shrub that typically bears red, pink, yellow, or white fragrant flowers, native to north temperate regions"

Rosehip-: "[noun] the ripened usually red or orange accessory fruit of a rose that consists of a fleshy receptacle enclosing numerous achenes"

Rosemary-: "[noun] an evergreen aromatic shrub of the mint family, native to southern Europe"

Rosette-: "[noun] rose-like marking or formation found on the fur and skin of some animals"

Rot-: "[verb] (chiefly of animal or vegetable matter) decay or cause to decay by the action of bacteria and fungi, aka decompose; [noun] the process of decaying"

Rough-: "[adj] having an uneven or irregular surface, one that's not smooth or level; [adj] (of a cat or their behavior) not gentle. Violent or boisterous"

Rowan-: "[noun] a mountain ash tree; [noun] the scarlet berry of the rowan tree"

Rubble-: "[noun] waste or rough fragments of stone"

Ruby-: "[noun] a precious stone consisting of corundum in color varieties varying from deep crimson or purple to pale rose"

Rue-: "[noun] small perennial shrub in the family Rutaceae used as a culinary and medicinal herb"

Rumble-: "[verb] to make a continuous deep, resonant sound; [noun] a continuous deep, resonant sound like distant thunder"

Running-: "[verb] the action of running"

Rush-: "[verb] move with urgent haste; [verb] dash toward (someone or something) in an attempt to attack or capture; [noun] a sudden quick movement toward something"

Russet-: "[adj] reddish brown in color; [noun] a reddish-brown color"

Russula-: "[noun] a widespread woodland toadstool that typically has a brightly colored flattened cap and a white stem and gills"

Rust-: "[noun] a fungal disease of plants which results in reddish or brownish patches"

Rustgill-: "[noun] a small and widely distributed mushroom which grows in dense clusters on dead conifer wood"

Rustle-: "[verb] make a soft, muffled crackling sound like that caused by the movement of dry leaves; [noun] a soft, muffled crackling sound like that made by the movement of dry leaves"

Rusty-: "[adj] reddish brown in color, resembling rust"

Rye-: "[noun] a cereal plant that tolerates poor soils and low temperatures"

#warrior cats #warrior cats rewrite #worldbuilding

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delightingintragedy · 9 months ago

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Venus Correspondences

From Christian Astrology by William Lilly

(It is mostly word for word. I tried to format it to fit into a nice correspondence list, but the information itself is untouched.)

Zodiac: Rules Taurus and Libra. Exalted in Pisces, Detriment in Aries and Scorpio, Fall in Virgo.

Nature: She is a Feminine Planet, temperately Cold and Moist, Nocturnal, the lesser Fortune, author of Mirth and Jollity; the Elements, the Air and Water are Venereal; in the Humours, Phlegm with Blood, with the Spirit and Genital seed.

Profession: Musicians, Gamesters, Silk-men, Mercers, Linen-Drapers, Painters, Jewellers, Players, Lapidaries, Embroiderers, Women-tailors, Wives, Mothers, Virgins, Choristers, Fiddlers, Pipers, when joined with the Moon, Ballad singers, Perfumers, Seamstresses, Picture-drawers, Engravers, Upholsterers, Limners, Glovers, all such as sell those Commodities which adorn Women either in Body (as Clothes) or in Face, (as Complexion-waters.)

Sicknesses: Diseases by her signified, are principally in the Matrix and members of Generation; in the reins, belly, back, navel and those parts; the Gonorrhoea or running of the Reins, French or Spanish Pox, any disease arising by inordinate lust. Priapism, impotency in generation, Hernias, etc. the Diabetes or pissing disease.

Colour: White, or milky Sky-colour mixed with brown, or a little Green.

Savours: That which is pleasant and toothsome; usually in moist or sweet, or what is very delectable; in smells what is unctuous and Aromatical, and incites to wantonness.

Herbs & Trees: Myrtle always green; all herbs which she governs have a sweet savour, a pleasant smell; a white flower; of a gentle humour, whose leaves are smooth and not jagged. She governs the Lily white and yellow, and the Lilly of the valley, and of the water. The Satyrion or Cuckoopint, Maidenhair, Violet; the white and yellow Daffodil. Sweet Apples, the white Rose, the Fig, the white Sycamore; wild Ash, Turpentine-tree, Olive, sweet Oranges, Mugwort, Ladies' mantle, Sanicle, Balm, Vervain, Walnuts, Almonds, Millet, Valerain, Thyme, Amber, Ladanum, Civet or Musk, Coriander, French Wheat, Peaches, Apricots, Plums, Raisins.

Beasts: The Hart, the Panther, small cattle, Coney, the Calf, the Goat.

Birds: Stockdove, Wagtail, the Sparrow, Hen, the Nightingale, the Thrush, Pelican, Partridge, Ficedula, a little Bird Feeding on Grapes; the Wren, Eagle, the Swan, the Swallow, the Owsel or Black bird, the Pye.

Fishes: The Dolphin.

Places: Gardens, Fountains, Bride-chambers, fair lodgings, Beds, Hangings, Dancing Schools, Wardrobes.

Minerals: Copper, especially the Corinthian and White; Brass, and Lattenware.

Stones: Cornelian, the Sky-coloured Sapphire, white and red Coral, Marcasite, Alabaster, Lapis Lazuli because it expels Melancholy, the Beryl, Chrysolite.

Weather: She foretells in Summer, Serenitry or clear weather; in Winter, rain or snow.

Winds: Southern Winds

Angel: Anael

Planetary Alliances: Her friends are all the Planets except Saturn.

Week Day: Friday

Correspondence posts for the other planets: [Sun] [Moon] [Mercury] [Mars] [Jupiter] [Saturn]

#astrology #planets #venus #planetary #planetary magic #correspondences #magic #witchcraft #witchblr #astrology witch #magical correspondences #witches #witch community #witch #astro community #zodiac #zodiac signs #astroblr #astrology facts

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pickerelstripe · 1 year ago

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[CM] Birds - Biyaw 2

Our final bird post! At least until I inevitably find some Maine birding guide that introduces a new species, haha. Today’s the second half of the biyaw* list, birds that are common and easily hunted.

Below are translations for sparrows, vireos, and a whole lot more.

Northern waterthrush (Parkesia noveboracensis) - Chochocho Streaky brown-and-cream bird. Present in summer and fall. Feed on insects, snails, fish, and salamanders. Known for foraging along watersides in the bog.

Wood thrush (Hylocichla mustelina) - Wupwiurr Brown-and-white thrush with a spotted chest and belly. Present in summer. Feed on insects and berries.

Veery (Catharus fuscescens) - Veerr Brown-and-white thrush, similar to a wood thrush but unspotted. Present in summer. Feed on insects and berries.

Song sparrow (Melospiza melodia) - Hipchee Brownish sparrow with heavy streaking and red stripes on the head. Present year-round. Feed mostly on insects and seeds.

Swamp sparrow (Melospiza georgiana) - Sees Brown sparrow with an unpatterned belly. Present year-round but most abundant in spring, summer, and fall. Feed mostly on insects.

White-eyed vireo (Vireo griseus) - Pikchikawee Gray-and-yellow vireo with white eyes. Present sparingly in summer and fall. Feed on insects and berries. The word pikchikawee is derived from a mnemonic I saw for white-eyed vireo calls!

Yellow-throated vireo (Vireo flavifrons) - Ee’earp Mostly gray bird with a yellow-olive head and white underparts. Present sparingly in summer. Feed on insects, fruit, and seeds.

Warbling vireo (Vireo gilvus) - Wiuwiu Dull gray bird with a slightly lighter belly. Present in summer and early fall. Feed mostly on insects, but eat berries as well.

Blue-headed vireo (Vireo solitarius) - Wee’rip White-and-olive bird with a blue-gray head and white eye rings. Present in summer and fall. Feed on insects and small fruit.

Marsh wren (Cistothorus palustris) - Pich Little chocolate-brown bird with a distinct body shape, often seen perched while bobbing its tail. Present year-round but most abundant in summer. Feed mostly on insects.

Alder flycatcher (Empidonax alnorum) - Rebeer Grayish-brown and white flycatcher with a small head crest. Present in summer. Feed on insects - can be seen flycatching, darting off a branch to catch bugs mid-air!

Phoebe (Sayornis phoebe) - Weebee Small flycatcher with a dark brownish-gray back and white underparts. Present year-round but most abundant in summer and fall. Feed on insects and berries.

Bittern (Botaurus lentiginosus) - Wikbwip Small heron with brown-and-cream streaking and a long striped beak. Present in spring and summer, sometimes seen in fall. Feed on fish, frogs, insects, and other aquatic life. Bitterns have some unique nicknames - my favorite is “mire-drum”.

#claymew #birds #biyaw

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birdzflycom · 8 months ago

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What is The Difference Between- American Robin vs European Robin

What is the difference?

American Robin vs. European Robin. The European Robin and the American Robin are separated by an ocean but share the same name. Learn about American and European Robins: - These two birds share the same species name and the same coloration. They live on different sides of the Atlantic Ocean. Differences between these two species of robins: North American robin

North American robin Signs of the American Robin: Both male robins and female robins have a bright orange breast. Garo plays on the head and back. However, female robins are often duller in color. Learn about robin nests and eggs: Range They live across parts of Canada, the United States, and Mexico. They can be found in all these places if you look for them, but they are less common in winter. What do American robins eat? American robins of this species prefer insects, berries and earthworms. They do not eat seeds. Here's how to attract robins to your yard and garden. The family American robins are members of the thrush family which makes them beautiful and melodious singers. Have you ever heard the song of the robin bird? American robins usually join large flocks of other robins in the winter and fall.

The European Robin:

European Robin Bird Sign: Male and female European robins look similar with an orange face and chest. Sometimes outlined with a gray border and the head and back are olive brown. Range: European robins are found throughout Europe and western Asia and locally in North Africa. Learn about Western Robins and their Eastern counterparts. What do European robins eat? These species of birds eat mostly insects but also enjoy berries. The family The European Robin is a member of the Old World Flycatcher family. Behavior of European Robins: It is known to be more solitary and quiet in all seasons than the American robin. Read the full article

#americanrobin #americanrobinvseuropeanrobin #europeanrobin

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oatflatwhite · 3 years ago

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north country

aka rain fic! thanks emma @nogamediaz and arah @diazactually for enabling me.

read on ao3

In the north country now it is spring and there is a certain celebration. The thrush has come home ... It is okay to know only one song if it is this one.

— Mary Oliver, 'North Country'

The rain wakes Eddie in the night, thick falls of it against the bedroom window. He slips out from under the covers, grateful for the fuzzy socks he wore to bed, and pads to the laundry to check on the leak.

Sure enough, it’s there, a noticeable puddle on the tiled floor. Eddie digs the bucket out from beneath the sink and tucks it beneath the drip, just in time to catch another heavy raindrop that lands with an echoing thwap. He digs out an old towel, bleach-stained, the worn hem of it frayed and ripping, and uses it to mop up the water.

The creak of the floorboard behind him is all the warning Eddie gets before a hand, big and warm, settles on the back of his neck.

“Remind me to fix that tomorrow,” Buck says around a yawn, sleep shirt riding up on his stomach as he stretches and works out a crick in his neck. Eddie chucks the damp towel in the sink and wraps a fresh one around the bucket before standing.

“You say that every time,” he replies into the soft fabric of Buck’s shoulder, sighing as Buck’s arms wrap around him, one sneaking beneath his shirt to chase the warmth there.

“You gotta remind me, babe,” Buck says and Eddie can tell he’s grinning. “I’m getting on, you know. Mind’s not as sharp as it used to be.”

“Was it ever?” Eddie dodges the pinch to the side Buck tries to give him and laughs, softly, as he dances out of reach. “You’re thirty-three, Buck. I wouldn’t call that old.”

“Tell that to the grey hair I found last week!”

“And what does that make me?”

“Hmm.” Buck taps his chin, reeling Eddie back into his arms. “My sugar—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

Buck presses a kiss into Eddie’s hairline. “Good call,” he smiles, and Eddie can feel the shape of it against his skin. They sway in place for a moment.

“I’ll take the kitchen, you check on Chris?” Buck asks.

“You just want to sneak in one of those oatmeal cookies.”

“I wouldn’t need to if literally anyone else in the house was eating them!” Eddie sniffs; Buck runs a finger down the bridge of his nose. “Cookie purists, the both of you.”

“Oatmeal is for oatmeal, I don’t know how many times I—”

“Go on, then. Just a couple more.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Eddie huffs out, but somehow the last syllable turns into a laugh. He turns in Buck’s arms, expecting the kiss when it comes.

Behind them, the raindrops plink, plink into the bucket.

“Kitchen,” Buck breathes when they ease apart, pushing his forehead into Eddie’s. His thumb, unseeing, finds the mole on Eddie’s hip beneath his shirt.

“In a minute,” Eddie says.

It’s more like five before Buck lets him go; Eddie watches the long line of his husband disappear down the hall to the kitchen, ducking his head to the side like he always does to dodge the swing of the old light fixture. The kitchen light flicks on a moment later, flooding the doorway quiet and butter-golden. The sound of a cookie tin being eased open as carefully as possible.

Eddie lets himself into Christopher’s room as quiet as he can, skirting the discarded clothes and craft supplies on the floor to check on the window. It’s closed, but a seam of water has crept beneath the seal, collecting in the corners of the sill. Eddie mops it up with the hem of his shirt, opens and closes the window again. The covers are drawn all the way up to Christopher’s chin and the way his hair spills out over the pillowcase looks so much like Buck Eddie has to take a moment, by the window, hand on the cold, sweating glass.

Buck is already in bed when Eddie returns to their room, curling around Eddie the instant he lies down beside him. The rain, unceasing, continues to fall. Gently dissected moonlight cuts across the bone of Buck’s cheek, the curve of his eyebrow as it tapers into his birthmark. Eddie feels the overwhelming urge to kiss it, so he does, trailing his mouth down warm, aloe-vera-face-washed skin until it finds Buck’s. He tastes like oatmeal cookie and it’s enough to make Eddie break the kiss, wrinkling his nose.

“Sorry,” Buck whispers, not the slightest bit apologetic. “I’ll make choc chip next time.”

Upon reflection, the oatmeal really isn’t that bad when it’s kissed from Buck’s mouth. Eddie leans in again, trying not to smile, but barely five seconds later the kiss breaks again, Buck’s mouth just pressed to his, grinning.

“’m serious,” Buck says into the pillow when Eddie shifts back, smiling the way that crinkles his eyes all small, the way they look in their wedding pictures. Eddie’s favourite is one he isn’t even in: Buck and Maddie and a beaming, three-year-old Jee, laughing at Eddie behind the camera, the look on Buck’s face radiating such contentment it pierced Eddie to the bone, then as now.

“About the cookies?”

“Them too.” Buck shifts, shaking his head on the pillow. “About the leak. Remind me and I’ll do it in the morning.”

“I’ll do it in the morning,” Eddie replies, petulant. Buck raises the eyebrow Eddie kissed.

“Counterpoint. I’ll do it and you can look at my ass when I do.”

“This feels like a trick.”

Buck rolls his eyes. “How can that possibly be a trick? You love my ass.”

Eddie doesn’t dignify that with a reply (he’s pretty sure Buck knows his stance on the matter, anyway). “Do you really not want me to fix it?” he asks instead. Eddie’s hand catches in the hem of Buck’s shirt. “Do you think I can’t?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well?”

Buck shrugs, then sighs. He leans across the pillows and presses his forehead into Eddie’s. “I like doing things for you,” he admits. “You do so much, you’ve—done so much, for me, I just.” He chews his lip. “I wanna do this. If you remind me to.”

Eddie digests this. His hand finds Buck’s between their sleep-soft bodies, and he squeezes it, bringing it to his mouth to kiss the palm. “Of course I do things for you,” he replies, quiet. “You’re the love of my fucking life.”

“Okay.”

“Buck.”

“Yeah, okay.” And that’s—a smile, caught on the last syllable. Eddie kisses it, swallows it, unbothered by the oatmeal, keeps kissing until Buck opens for him—hot and wet and familiar as a well-worn record. Only then does he ease back.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he says. “Me and Chris, you—you’re the best thing that ever happened to us. I’m pretty sure I said something like that in my vows.”

“You did.” Buck has that look on his face again: delicate, breakable. Eddie’s heart feels outside his body. “Might want to check on that memory of yours, Diaz. We only got married last month.”

“Look who’s talking,” Eddie says, curving his hand around Buck’s chin and resting his thumb in the dimple, “Diaz.” The name elicits a tiny smile that Eddie feels in the moving muscle of Buck’s jaw. His hand maps the line of Buck’s neck; tucks, perfect and neat, into the divot of his shoulder. “If you wanna fix the leak,” he continues, “fix the leak. I’ll gladly stare at your ass. It’s a great ass.”

“It is.”

“S’why I married you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Well, partly.” Eddie runs his hand down Buck’s arm, feeling the transition between soft cotton and firm, warm skin, the fine bones of his elbow and wrist. “But if you wanna fix the leak because you think you—have to, or whatever, you don’t, Buck. The bucket does a good job.”

“The bucket,” Buck says, “can’t do a good job. It’s a bucket.”

“It’s a metaphor!”

Buck laughs, and kisses him. “It’s really, really not.” He shifts back, takes Eddie’s hand. Traces his thumb against the thick gold wedding band. “I wanna fix the leak. Nothing else. No funny business.”

Eddie slides them together, slotting a leg between Buck’s beneath the sheets. “Maybe some funny business?”

Buck sighs, pretends to contemplate, even as he shifts the thick muscle of his thigh over Eddie’s, boxer shorts riding up so they’re skin to skin. “I’ll allow it,” he informs him, and kisses his husband as the rain pours down outside.

#buddie #buddie fic #buddiefanfiction #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 #911 on fox #911 fox #oatflatwrites

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heaveninawildflower · 3 years ago

Photo

1) Blue Jay

2) Pine Grosbeak

3) Red Crossbill

4) Meadowlark

5) Bobolink

6) Scarlet Tanager

7) Flicker

8) Water-thrush

9) Pine Siskin, Redpoll

10) Hermit Thrush, Olive-backed Thrush

Illustrations taken from ‘Field Book of Wild Birds and their Music’ by F. Schuyler Matthews. Published 1921.

https://www.biodiversitylibrary.org/page/13653735

Wikimedia.

#birds #bird illustration #North American birds #vintage illustration #thrush

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ok-ish-hermitcraft-headcanons · 3 years ago

Note

The other half of the hermit birds! :D Accidently sent the last ask anonymously lol

Scar got a new bird association, brown headed nuthatch, just fits im!

Jellie: ain't a hermit technically but shes a Chickadee

Cleo: Green Kingfisher, or some kind of hawk

False: Harpy Eagle, or red-tailed eagle

Pearl: Black heron, Barred or Barn owl

Welsknight: Gyrfalcon

Helsknight: Osprey

Joehills: mourning dove, or a pigeon, dont ask me why, I dont know either.

Stress: Bohemian Waxwing

Zedaph: American Goldfinch, honestly never watched his videos before but goldfinch was my first thought when I heard his voice

Gem: European Robin

Etho: Blue Jay or one of those ridiculously brave chickadees

Impulse: Evening Grosbeak, just makes sense

Bdubs: olive sparrow(?) Cant really get a clear image for them

Cubfan: Sandpiper, some sort of seabird maybe?

Keralis: tend not to use Ravens for this sort of thing, but, hes just, a Raven, or some sort of black bird

IJevin: some sort of jay, definitely one with the little point at the back of their head

VintageBeef: I'm tired and cant rhink coherantly but hes one of those brown little birds, a sparrow maybe?

Xbcrafted: my brain finally worked for a second and thought 'Hermit Thrush' and now I cant stop thinking about it

And that's all folks, I am too tired so I probably missed someone but enh, I dont cara right noew, it's not that late I'm just tired, so dont worry ny the way :>

Nice!

Hope you sleep well when you do!

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bubblepunk99s · 3 years ago

Text

The Table of Minos

Teeth not made for meat sunk into wasted flesh. His feast laid before him in an indistinct pile. Bull’s eyes were not good for sight and after sitting in darkness for such a long time, his were poorer than most. Would it have made things different to see them? To see them as they had seen him? Or would appetite prove to be his only master? Hunger gave him his orders, not his father or any of the immortal gods.

A piteous crack sounded from within his jaws. Bone breaking under his molars. These people had been starved long before meeting him. This much he could tell from the feel of their bodies. Ribs, harsh and distinct under thin, taut skin. Limbs that snapped in his wide hands like twigs, like the branches that lay on the floor of this chamber, a reminder of a time before the labyrinth when this land had been a grove of stubby trees bearing succulent olives, fit for the table or to be made into oil that would light palaces and pig-sties alike.

As his mighty head ran red with coppery blood, he imagined a lighted feast. Platters, all distinct and pulsing with the warmth of good cooking, so different from the cooling corpses that had been dumped on his floor. Every torrent running with wine and barley-pastes fighting to be the first to men’s lips. Haunches of meat, the food for heroes, not the oily fish that these men had been forced to subsist on before being sent down here. Conduits full of piquant sauces for the meat always on hand, never out of reach. Pigs that had died of overeating. The eggs from a goose that had been fed on moistened grain or perhaps even ones from a resplendent peacock, an animal he had never been able to imagine despite the many times it had been described to him. Soups. Broths. Meat that didn’t rush down his throat like slithery entrails. Meat he could eat without imagining something better, meat that would strengthen him instead of ailing him. Is that what anyone would want from a king’s son? To grow up whole and hale?

A gore-stained hand reached up to touch his head. He felt the horns curling outward from his skull and remembered what he was. The images of feasting faded like morning dew in the heat of the sun.

Honey cakes.

He was almost done now. Cracking the remaining bones to suck up the flake-like marrow. It passed down easily enough, not sticking in his mouth or seeking to come back up in great, heaving retches.

Little honey cakes. Smaller than his palm. Sprinkled with spices, dribbling sweetness. Coming apart in his mouth lighter than a cloud, a rush of moist, delicious warmth. This he did not have to imagine. This he knew. Vaguely, indistinctly, like the press of his mother’s breast, like the strength in her arms. But this he could remember without inventing. Always after his feeding did he return to the thought of honey cakes, as if a little mound of pastry could be used to mop up the ocean of blood that lay splattered and drying on his face, on the floors of his chamber, on his mighty hands.

Honey cakes.

Nothing had to die to make a honey cake. No pig slaughtered. No thrush roasted. No fish gutted. Merely taking the wealth of the earth and binding it together with joyful sticky honey. Soon his memory passed back into imagination and his thoughts were filled with grain fields waving in the wind and glowing under the sun.

Honey cakes.

Flies settled on his beefy neck to have a feast of their own. The rats he had chased off or eaten – little wriggling morsels they had been – but the flies were less easily deterred. Still, he gave his head a shake to ward them off, relishing the sound of his horns cutting through the stale air.

Honey cakes.

A small shifting sound came from the corner of the room.

He froze. He knew that sound. Knew what was in that corner.

Gently, he extracted himself from the floor. As he walked, he heard both the slapping of his bare feet on stone and the noise made by his horns scraping the ceiling. Long strides carried him to the corner. He reached a hand down.

Three cakes resting on a ceramic platter. He put his finger to his mouth and felt the unmistakable spark of sweet honey on his tongue.

Far faster now, he dropped to the floor. Lifted the flap at the door’s base and peered through. No-one was waiting there. Only thing he could see was a line of red thread glowing in the dark. It was different to the red of blood or of meat. For years it had been the only light from the outside world. He watched it for as long as he could before it was pulled back, snaking over the stone of the labyrinth back to a chest lying in front of a feather-filled mattress

He picked up the bowl and slowly walked back to where he had been before. He didn’t want to break the bowl, as he had broken others before it. He wished he had been there to see her before she had left, hear her talk about feasts and fields and the wine - dark sea that was vaster and more ancient than any stone labyrinth. Things he could never imagine fully but could spend a lifetime trying to.

So there, in the dark of his chamber, he sat and ate his honey cakes, savouring each bite. As they came apart in his mouth, honey mixed with blood and his hunger was sated. For now.

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 11 months ago

Text

L’histoire secrète de la mer /// Chapter 2

Damn another chapter in a day. I'm gonna start posting this on AO3 for anyone who prefers that platform. In the meantime, enjoy! x

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Fili x oc/reader - Kili x oc (for this POV fic visit my navigation) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 1947

Warnings: Swearing

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

PLEASE START FROM THE BEGINNING IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY OK LOVE U

Want some background music? Check out my Soundtrack Playlist!

Soon available on Wattpad and AO3

< Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 >

PART 1: Chapter 2 -

Deep, quiet, and alone;

The Song Thrush has brown upper-parts and black-spotted cream or buff underparts. Its distinctive song, which has repeated musical phrases, has frequently been referred to in poetry.

Kate let out a groan as my hand tapped her repeatedly on the shoulder. She waved her arm about, eyes still shut tight until the onslaught stopped. Marching over to the window, I ripped the curtains open, the blinding light of the morning sun hitting her directly in the face.

“Girlie get the fuck up.” I pushed.

Letting out more groans of complaint, Kate’s face scrunched up as she rolled over away to face the wall, only to be met with a wad of paper that I aimed at the back of her head.

“Kate.” I said, exasperated.

Now somewhat awake, she rolled back over and leant up on her elbow to face me.

“What-?” She croaked in confusion.

I glared at her with wide eyes, before looking pointedly at the piece of paper I had aimed at her.

Looking down at her assaulter, she picked up a leaflet, the front a picture of a waterfall, with the title ‘Magic of Ullswater’ printed in a bold white font. She looked back at me with groggy eyes and messy hair as I sat perched on my bed.

“Ah,” She guiltily scrunched her face in realisation, “was this today?”

��Yes!” I exclaimed, pointing at the glaring number on my phone. “And it’s already seven!”

“Don’t worry, I’m up” She rolled out of bed and swung open the wardrobe doors, grabbing what she needed before heading to the bathrooms to freshen up and get ready. Within twenty minutes she was back in the room, and by some miracle managing to get ready in half the time. On an average day she would take at least an hour.

I wore my cargo trousers, along with a grey cropped vest top and a thin zip up hoodie tied around my waist.

Kate on the other hand was wearing her cream vest top tucked into her baggy olive green trousers, and a thick brown belt looped through, with a loose fitting chunky white cardigan left unbuttoned over the top.

Unfortunately Dr Martens and platform crocs weren’t the most suitable shoes for hiking, lest you want your ankles broken, so were replaced with hiking boots, and obviously waterproofs were packed away in our rucksacks just in case. As lovely as it was, you can never trust English weather.

“Hey.” I said, waiting for Kate to turn away from the window, “Did you remember to bring the passes?”

She leant back in mock offense. “Of course.” she retorted. “Must you deem me that unreliable??”

I snorted at her reaction. “Well you forgot what day it was earlier, so I had to double check.”

She deadpanned at me, reaching into her bag to procure two sheets of paper, shoving them up at me so I could see the print. “I double checked at least ten times, after all this saves us the twenty quid entry.”

I sat back with a quiet sigh of relief, whilst Kate safely tucked the papers back away. Looking back, she asked me which part of the trail I wanted to visit first.

My eyes darted around as they narrowed in thought.

“The waterfall.” I declared. “You’ve been before, is it close to the entrance?”

“Somewhat.” She answered as she picked at her lip. “Within a fifteen-ish minute walk of the car park.”

“As long as you actually remember where to go.” I taunted, before laughing at her frown. “Cuz I wanna see some stratification.” I said eagerly, tapping on the diagram in the book on my lap.

“Well as long as you don’t start licking the rocks as soon as we get there, otherwise you’ll scare the children off.” She tormented, ducking down with a giggle as the book was launched at her head.

Soon enough, we arrived, and after Kate proved to me that she actually knew the route, we followed the continuous thundering noise of rushing water until we reached the 65 foot waterfall, now towering ahead of us. I jogged ahead, eager to reach the moss covered bridge that curved over the deep ravine that the water had carved into the rock. At halfway I stopped to lean over the fence, facing down into the narrow abyss of water below, tilting enough to the point where my legs began to lift from the floor.

“Oi!” Kate cried, jogging to catch up. “You can’t swim, so if you fall, don’t think I’m going in after you.”

“Are you a lifeguard or not?” I pointed out incredulously, leaning further over in a taunting manner. “It’s literally you’re job to go after me.”

“Well it’s not like I’m being paid right now to do so.” She answered as she caught up to me. “Pay me my hourly rate and then I’ll think about going after you.”

I scoffed in disbelief at her audacity before my attention returned to admire the waterfall before me.

It wasn’t long before a high pitched trill from above caught Kate’s attention. Raising her head, she stared at the dense foliage above her, before spotting whatever it was and wandering outside my peripheral vision. The sound of a Polaroid shutter went off behind me several times, before going silent again. Within a minute, I felt a finger poke my shoulder, and I turned to see Kate pointing further down the path.

My eyes followed said footpath and from a distance, I managed to make out a clearing bathed in the scattered beams of the midday sun.

“How about we have lunch down there?” She suggested.

I nodded in agreement, and we both made our way over. After decided what was the sunniest spot, we laid out the blanket and sat down, putting out the food we were able to fit in our bags.

“That bird.” I tried to say, my voice half muffled by my hand that was hiding my mouthful of sandwich as I spoke. “What was it?”

“A song thrush,” Kate replied, swallowing her own sandwich. “According to some article I read a while back they’re quite common round these parts”.

“I didn’t know you birdwatched?” I pondered.

“I did quite a bit when was younger. To be fair though, I only recognised it because of The Hobbit.” She admitted.

My eyes widened in realisation, and we both pointed at each other with a grin. “Of course!” I laughed, before turning back to my sandwich. “When the thrush knocks!”

“Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole.” Kate recited without a stutter.

I lowered my sandwich and turned back towards her slowly, side-eyeing her with a face of suspicion. She side-eyed back.

“Your short term memory should’ve taken that in and flung it out the other side.” I disputed.

She frowned.

“And you didn’t even mess up the words once.”

Side-eyeing me once more, I watched as she slowly brought her phone up to her face. I glared in even further suspicion as she began to furiously type away at the keyboard. Within seconds I had enough.

“Ok what the fuck are you typing over there.” I demanded, discarding my sandwich, and speeding across the blanket to stare over her shoulder and began to read aloud. “Kay is anti-mental disorde— ??? I’M NOT DISSING YOUR ADHD???? NO. DON’T SEND THAT TO THE GROUPCHAT. KATE. SWEAR DOWN I WILL— NO! TAKE YOUR FINGER AND PRESS DELETE RIGHT NOW. NO NO NO. ROXIE WILL EAT ME ALIVE. DELETE THAT SHIT. NO. COME BACK.”

Kate cackled as she leapt up and ran the length of the clearing, watching as I scrambled up in a frenzy after her. To my horror, she held it up in front of her to read aloud any replies from the chat, interrupted every so often by my aggravated screams of frustration.

I chased her around the grass, until we both collapsed back on the blanket, too exhausted to carry the conflict further. I pointed my finger at her accusingly.

“You better delete it.” I managed between heaves. She held out her hand expectantly.

“That’ll be ten pounds.” She requested with a grin on her face.

“Oh, piss off.” I groaned exasperatedly, shoving her shoulder as she laughed.

Squabble over, I rolled over to pick up and return to the geography book I was reading on the bus. Kate did the same, but with The Hobbit, something she always brought along with her religiously.

Later, we packed up the picnic and explored the forest for a few hours, wandering off the path a few times to look for rocks or plants. A chilly breeze blew past and I made the mental note to check the time soon, but it seemed Kate had already beaten me to it.

“Hey Kay,” I heard her call, and I replied with a loud “YEA?”

From the bushes behind me, she said “we should think about heading back, if we wanna make it to the canteen for tea.”

I agreed, standing up from where I was crouched over a small stream, trying to find a type of mineral deposit I was reading about in my book earlier. Slinging our bags back over our shoulders, we both began to make our way back down the path, dodging the jagged roots and rocks. A short while passed before we reached the clearing we had eaten in earlier, the opening in the trees showed that the sky had begun to change colour, causing us to quicken our paces slightly to ensure we wouldn’t get caught out in the wilderness at night.

It wasn’t long before we were back at the waterfall, and we began our crossing of the bridge before I slowed down again like last time. Kate slowed too, and we both stopped in the middle to spend a moment, taking once last look at the towering waterfall, now bathed in the orange light of the evening’s golden hour.

A familiar chirp rang out through the trees, and Kate spun around, scouring the branches above her looking for the Song Thrush she had spotted earlier, whilst I turned back around to take pictures of the waterfall.

I began walking backwards over the bridge slowly, turning back to Kate as she carried on staring up at the foliage. I went to call for her, but only managed to open my mouth and let out a single sound.

Before it all went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#fili x oc #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #thorins company x reader #the hobbit x oc #kili x reader #fili #kili #hobbit x reader #kili x oc #fili x reader #thorins company #big soup #kili durin #L’histoire secrète de la mer #to the shadows that cry witch

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witchstone · 2 years ago

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more bird blogging things! met up with the local birding group for the first time at a nature reserve i haven't visited in a good ten years and w o w

birds seen and heard: sombre + yellow-bellied greenbul, grey sunbird (new tick!), olive sunbird, tambourine dove (!!!), a literal horde of terrestrial brownbuls, red-capped robin-chat, spotted ground thrush (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he was GREGARIOUS i have only ever seen vague glimpses before but he was literally the first thing to greet us outside the reception!!!), square-tailed drongo, bar-throated + yellow-breasted apalis, green-backed camaroptera, black sparrowhawk (!!), bronze mannikin, cape batis, purple-crested turaco, cape white-eye, african palm swift, southern boubou, grey waxbill (another new tick!!), southern black tit, yellow-fronted canary, tawny-flanked prinia, white-eared barbet, spectacled + thick-billed weaver, and dusky flycatcher + the usual dreadfully common varieties

other notable things include a pair of blue duiker and a lone red duiker who wasn't particularly fussed about our presence. also a 70-ish year old man in the group pointing to a small hole in the fence and going "and that's where i climb through to get to the reservoir bc they won't let me in anymroe"

#also literally the only people there under 65 were me and two eleven year olds #apparently somebody saw a purple-banded sunbird outside the entrance and i'm DYING bc i didn't even know you got them here????????#i'm????#i've never even seen one #diary #on birds

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fishandloaves · 3 years ago

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Look, it’s spring. And last year’s loose dust has turned into this soft willingness. The wind-flowers have come up trembling, slowly the brackens are up-lifting their curvaceous and pale bodies. The thrushes have come home, none less than filled with mystery, sorrow, happiness, music, ambition.

And I am walking out into all of this with nowhere to go and no task undertaken but to turn the pages of this beautiful world over and over, in the world of my mind.

* * * Therefore, dark past, I’m about to do it. I’m about to forgive you

for everything.

- Mary Oliver, "A Settlement", from What Doe We Know, Poems and Prose Poems

🕊 I love coming back to this poem at the beginning of a new year. Although not Spring, I love the theme of starting anew and drawing a line over my past grief, forgiving it and sitting comfortably with it as I begin the next chapter in this beautiful world. Happy New Year.

#mary oliver #poetry #words #fave words #on forgiveness #cynthia.txt

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cardstock-broth · 3 years ago

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Oliver’s Right Leg

The frozen canal looked like a thick sheet of shiny, black glass. The bitter kiss of the cold wind seemed to gnaw at Oliver. It made his blue-gray eyes water as he desperately searched his surroundings for a gun, crowbar. Anything. His taloned hands scratched at the slippery surface that surrounded the shipwreck, desperately reaching for his backpack. The snow stung the raw flesh of his leg, currently crushed between the stone-solid sea and what remained of the ship. He was powerless to do anything, all of his supplies were in his bag, his guns, signal flare, and even his radio as the remainder of his crew either drowned or bled out… He turned back to his leg and let out a screech as the muscles protested at being unnaturally twisted. He was alone he was sure of it. The only thing he could do now is attempt to free himself.

Thinking quickly he tore off his coat and tied it around his thigh to act as a tourniquet. He hesitated. He hoped that someone else had called for help, but deep down he knew that even if someone was on the way he’d be long dead before they would arrive. His beak chattered with fear and his breathing grew heavy as he forced himself to go on with his plan. He gripped his right leg, his jaws parted exposing his white razor-sharp teeth as he quickly bent forward to sink them into the mutilated flesh. He tore away at the muscles not giving himself a moment to pause. Eventually, he brought up his talons to rip away at his striped fur. He couldn't tell if his lightheadedness was due to blood loss or intense fear. Nevertheless, he continued to chew away at ligament, sinew, and eventually bone. By the time his teeth clacked at his tibia, he was nothing more than a shaking, sobbing mess.

Oliver couldn't do it anymore, he didn't have the jaw strength to crack the bones apart and he swore that his aching teeth would shatter if he continued to try. He scratched at them, screaming as he futilely tried to pry himself away from the debris. He took a moment to wipe the gore away from his mouth and held his head in his hands as he seemed to accept his fate. That's when he heard it. The skull-piercing whistle of a train seemed to sing across the canal. Oliver whipped his head towards the mainland and spotted the bright red locomotive pulling into the station. The emblem of the Spes Nova could barely be made out in the midst of the blizzard. He had to act fast. He stretched his aching body back to where his backpack was laying uselessly. He dug his talons into the ice, desperately ignoring the burn of the remaining meat on his leg being pulled to its limits.

His nails brushed against the leather straps. He furiously flapped his wings hoping to give himself a final thrush forward. His fingers grasped the bag’s strap and he quickly yanked it towards his chest. His stiff, blood-crusted fingers fumbled with the buckles, he was running out of time and he was sure he’d succumb to hypothermia soon. His beak tore through the polished leather in one last act of desperation. The backpack’s content’s spilled on his lap. After throwing aside half-finished sketches and crushed nutrition bars he quickly found what he was looking for. Oliver picked up the neon orange flare gun only for it to fall into his lap as he could no longer bend his fingers. He stuck his frozen fingers in his mouth in an attempt to warm them up, struggling not to gag at the taste of his own blood. He chewed them until he finally felt the sharpness of his teeth.

Not wasting any more time he curled his fingers around the trigger with what seemed like barely enough force. He fell onto his back, watching the hot-pink flare sore across the grey sky. He turned to the mainland, struggling to see the ground in front of him let alone the red train. His entire body felt as if it was filled with sand as he violently shook. His eyes struggled to stay open, even his eyelashes had frozen together seemingly determined to seal them shut. His slowed breathing filled the madding silence around him, the harsh winds having long been drowned out. After what seemed like an eternity he heard a heavy clacking followed by dulled out yelling. He forced his eyes open and was met with the deep red eyes of Sisyphus. The unicorn was yelling something at him but he was too delirious to make out any of her words, he instead poured all his energy into focusing on her. He took in the sight of her brown face and the sharp lines of her scars. He forced himself to stare at her bright red coat, not allowing himself to associate it with the color of hot, quivering muscle.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a couched figure frantically tending to his leg. He didn't even notice the elderly field doctor, having lost feeling in his extremities. Jaak yelled something at Sisyphus and she gently let go of Oliver’s shoulders and slid to where the aitvaras man was standing. They frantically pitched ideas to free their comrade back and forth, or at least Oliver assumed so. His head felt so heavy and dense that he could barely hear anything his saviors were saying. Jaak was at his side and gently held his hand in a comforting gesture, Oliver blinked in confusion before turning back to Sisyphus. His eyes widened as she lifted her muscular leg and he only had a split second before she brought it down on his tibia. He let out a strangled cry as she chipped away at the rest of the bone with her heavy hoof, and Oliver swore that she took the time to scrape the ragged ends of flesh away from the rest of his leg before Jaak swooped in to tightly wrap bandages around the amputation site.

Sisyphus then pulled Oliver onto her broad back and began the tedious journey back to the train. He rested his head in the crook of her neck, seeking her warmth. Sisyphus took brisk, heavy steps, hoping to stake her hooves into the ice so as not to slip. Jaak had long called in for backup on his own radio and was currently screeching orders into the transmitter. With every step Sisyphus took the sight of the bright red train filled Oliver with hope and once the three had reached the old wooden platform of the station did he finally allow himself to close his eyes. He knew that he was finally safe.

#spilled ink #original writing #Original Work #amature writer #spilled writing #excerpt from a book I'll never write

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