#scottish at heart

[wraithee]

Hit me like a cartoon anvil today that the reason I love Crowley in all the flashbacks so much this season is because they are from Aziraphale’s POV and it’s the story of how he fell in love with him.

[ingravinoveritas]

Tonight is press night for Macbeth, and Michael is sitting in the second row beaming at David as proud as can be. The two of them looking at each other like that is everything...

[vigilskeep]

what was sick and twisted is that inquisition made you make a free marcher and then didn’t let you give them a starkhaven scottish voice

[bonefall]

Do you know what the other animals that were trapped in cages are? I think there's a zebra, gray wolf and honey badger but I'm not sure

I caught five unique animals in the passage, lemmie share all of my guesses;

Easy; giraffe! Though I wouldn't really describe them as "yellow," WC has a habit of "cartoonifying" certain popular animals so this is definitely a giraffe (such as the tongue-slinging frogs in ShadowClan, real frogs do not have chameleon tongues)

The next one, the zebra, is also pretty apparent;

For those who didn't know, zebras are smaller than domestic horses! That's correct!

The one that stumps me the most is definitely this "weaselbadger" animal, but I'm fairly certain it's a honey badger yeah.

As opposed to a European badger like the cats are used to, a honey badger would look a lot thinner and more "weasel-like." They also have a solid white stripe that separates their black bottoms from their ticked top-fur, and I can't think of any other animal that has a separated fur color in that way.

There's also a very large snake of some kind, "coiled" around a branch. So, something arboreal.

While it's definitely a constricting snake, there isn't enough description about its color or behavior to tell if it's a boa or a python, nor what species it is. Since the largest reptile Ivypool naturally encounters would be adders, I also can't say if the "snake bigger than she could ever imagine" is actually that big.

If I'm making a shot in the dark though, the "small eyes" would make me guess it's a particularly old reticulated python. They're also common pet snakes, so it wouldn't be out of place at a skeevy ""Animal Sanctuary"" like this book is portraying.

(SIDE NOTE; I am satisfied with the portrayal of this particular zoo, which is clearly in someone's backyard and made from ramshackle planks and chainlink. I stand firmly against broad, untargeted "zoo slander" but I think the team did a good job in portraying this place as some crank's private collection.)

This next one, the "furry dog," is described with shaggy fur around its neck and shoulders, and then explicitly called gray when it attacks the human. Simple; that is a gray wolf.

While it's definitely a wolf, I'd need to see them describe the howl to tell you if it's Eurasian or American. American wolves lean harder on the first syllable and the call is more "shouty", while Eurasian wolves have a longer, more "melodious" songlike howl.

As for the "mane," that's a trait wolves can have. Some have larger neck ruffs than others-- usually influenced by climate. I don't know enough about wolves to tell you if that's purely genetic, or if it's influenced by the fact this individual lives in a place where it needs to develop a particularly thick winter coat.

(Also, funfact; the extinct British wolf was actually one of the largest gray wolf subspecies ever known. RIP British wolves)

And, lastly, of course, is the Scottish Wildcat.

Exactly as the book goes on to describe, they have blunt, bushy tails, green eyes, and tabby coats. They look like very large domestic cats!

[david-tennant-in-chairs]

I need these two to be in everything together forever. Is that so much to ask?

Happy Birthday Michael Sheen!

[fluffylord]

CRIMINAL RECORD | DANIEL HEGARTY

[ourtubahero-blog]

Star crossed lovers when their eyes meet and the world disappears.

[rainbowpopeworld]

Second “Heart” interview: David Tennant & Alex Hassell talk about new show Rivals and more with Pandora Christie

[adventuresofalgy]

Algy slept unusually well on his cosy bed of leaves and moss, safe in the knowledge – or at least the belief – that the magic pumpkin lantern would protect him from the very real dangers which lurked in every dark night to threaten the wellbeing, and even the life, of a daft and invitingly soft fluffy bird.

And he was delighted and relieved, when he woke the next morning, to find that the pumpkin had remained its place, and was still glowing gently in the dim morning light, although not with the mysterious brilliance that had illuminated the darkness.

Algy was less pleased, however, to see that the Scotch mist had descended again in the night, and the woodland, which had already seemed impenetrable, was now also barely visible beyond a few short hops away.

Carrying his pumpkin with some difficulty, Algy fluttered over to a steep slope at the outer edge of the wood and paused to catch his breath, for a fluffy bird, though adept at flying, is not well adapted to toting unusual weights.

He was at a loss to know what to do next, or which way to go, for although Algy remained determined to continue his search for the light and warmth which must exist somewhere in the heart of the winter darkness, he had so far found not the slightest clue to guide him in the right direction. And although he was loath to abandon the magical lantern which seemed almost to have been provided deliberately for his use, the difficulty of transporting it would certainly make his quest much more challenging.

Resting on the wet grass, Algy pondered his situation, and as he wondered rather disconsolately how to proceed, some lines of a poem by Longfellow drifted into his mind through the blanketing mist, and he took heart again:

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,    Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers,    And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!    And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest,    Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,    Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow    Find us farther than to-day.

…

Lives of great men all remind us    We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us    Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,    Sailing o’er life’s solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,    Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,    With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing,    Learn to labor and to wait.

[Algy is quoting the opening and closing three verses of the much-repeated poem A Psalm of Life by the 19th century American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.]

[artaintfartwarriors]

Any random wildcat from ivypool heart book please.

Hmmm ok! I did one of the leaders(?). I need to read this book already!!!!

[hemi-demi]

Skin to skin cuddles ❤️

[cthulhusstepmom]

Evidence that Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish is not what he seems-Lt. SR:

Soap smells like rain, it took a while to put it together because it's not Soap himself that emits the odor, it just follows him. It's less potent inside and when it's sunny outdoors but if you concentrate it's always there.

He has never been observed touching a gun or grenades without gloves. Almost every other explosive he handles with no regard for his own safety gloves.

HE EATS WEIRD SHIT. While he doesn't eat much of the food on offer from the cafe, he does eat consistently when outdoors, usually plants or flowers. Things he has eaten: dandelions(edible), garlic(edible), thistle(edible but he ate it with the thorns), foxglove(toxic, showed no adverse reaction), Several unidentified flowers and berries, grass(technically edible?) Etc.

Will sometimes refuse to enter a place before abruptly going in. The data is not consistent between different buildings or locations. Further research is required.

Sharp teeth.

Groups things in nonsensical ways. He will only fill a magazine with bullets that total a multiple of 7 or 3. The same for what weights he uses in the gym. When drawing or eating he sorts by 4s. He traded his room to get #13 (right next door, coincidence?).

Cameras will not focus on him, whether photo or video he is never in focus regardless of distance or conditions.

He has never once been in medical for more than half an hour, usually much less. Even though his hands have light burns on them almost constantly.

Dogs hate him. He seems ambivalent towards them and he's never been bit that Ive seen. Cats adore him as do birds.

John MacTavish does not blush. Not for lack of trying even when genuinely flustered or hot, his skin does not flush.

Ghost sets down the small notebook with a minute sound of frustration. The evidence is all there but looking at it, what does it really say? Other than that he's an obsessive creep. A series of quirks and coincidences compiled by a paranoid son of a bitch into a fucking stalker journal. But still, Simon can't help but feel like he's right and he'd be dead a million times over if he simply disregarded his intuition. Even if it is something batshit insane.

At this point however it seems that it'll drive him mad far before it yields any answers. After scouring what little resources were comprehensible on the internet he'd started growing out his hair, intent on tying it in knots to prevent charms. Leaving him with a problem he'd not encountered since he'd first donned the mask: unruly curls and balaclavas don't mix well at all. He'd also kept a piece of stale bread in his pocket for days as he'd read it was a repellent to- and he can't even believe he's considering it-fairies. It backfired, if anything Johnny had been more attached to him and even more touchy than usual. He'd left a small deli cup full of coffee creamer outside his door overnight and found it neatly placed upside down where he'd left it with not a drop left. Ghost chalked that up to some wise guy playing a joke or an exceptionally dextrous cat and firmly shut the door on any other possibilities in his mind. His next test had been a gift of clothing mixed with complements, he'd read that both were likely to drive away any Other. It hadn't been a very extravagant gift, a new pair of gloves and a gruff "well done Johnny" but at the time it had seemed to be the final nail in the coffin as Soap had gone white as a sheet(he can do that but he can't blush???) and scurried off. A quiet dread had filled his stomach the whole day until Soap turned up at dinner, a little quieter than usual but wearing his new gloves and eating more than usual(a scoop and a half of mashed potatoes with 4 packets of butter and 2 packets of sour cream as well as a cookie. The main course of spaghetti and meatballs went untouched though Gaz snapped it up before it could truly go to waste). Though when Ghost returned to his room late that night after trudging through hours of paperwork he found a pile of tiny, aromatic, pink flowers on the floor in front of his door and on top of them a shiny metal comb. Simon's tired brain hardly stopped to think of any of the dire warnings he'd found on forum posts and folklore sites alike, crouching and tenderly retrieving the piece from its bed of flora, careful not to crush any of the tiny blooms. Well... With all the knots in his hair-purposeful and otherwise-he's going to need a sturdy comb anyway.

[ingravinoveritas]

Feeling very normal about David making prolonged eye contact with Michael in the audience during curtain call at the opening night of Macbeth last night...

[everybody-loves-purdy]

I think we can assume that the wildcats are indeed Scottish wildcats?

[quotidianish]

Jade Winglet (minus Umber and Carnelian 😢) designs and another Winter/Turtle doodle

[avillainstory]