#stork-fashion

[basement-buddy]

Dunk-le Sans takes baby Frisk on a walk to watch the snow

[nr1-logo-design-inspiration]

Awesome logo for a outwear brand ☆☆☆

Contact & inquiries:

Creativelogodesigns01@gmail.com

[enthusiastic-nimrod]

[rarepears]

Post-SVSSS AU where SY is enjoying himself teaching his students and spoiling his husband(s) when suddenly his little sister shows up in the bamboo house! SY panics in typical Cucumber fashion and his little sister gets to meet her new brother(s)-in-law.

Shen Yuan: how the fUCK do I explain the sudden appearance of my sister Shen Yuan: Husband, the stork visited and brought us a child to raise. Luo Binghe: A DAUGHTER! 😍 WITH MY SHIZUN! 😍 

Sometimes Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe collectively only have a braincell between them. This is one of those moments.

[vagabond-umlaut]

Sojourn In The Sun

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader; Arranged Marriage; Childhood Friendship To Complicated Feelings™️; Fluff; Angst; Canon-Compliant; Contains Manga Spoiler; Satoru & Reader Are So Cute, So Honest And So Kind-Of-Happy With Each Other Here– I Love Them!; Silly Jokes Are Their [& My] Coping Mechanism; Takes Place Between JJK 221 & 236.

Oneshot From Series: One Day, Three Autumns

"You. Baked. This. For. Me."

"No, Satoru. A stork flew in through ths kitchen window and dropped this bloody cake on that table."

"But don't they deliver babies or something? Plus, isn't that window a tad too tiny for such a big bird?"

"I guess, the stork must've dropped you on your head while delivering you to your parents, you know?"

A beat passes in response to your remark, before Satoru erupts into a fit of chortles and you shake your head with a huffed chuckle. Getting up from where you were hunched over the countertop, nibbling on an omelette and scrolling through your mobile, Satoru watches your face gleam in fondness in the late morning light, as you amble over to him.

Very messy hair. Ratty old clothes. Sleepy yet shiny eyes— His cheeks hurt from the sheer joy bubbling in his chest at this sight before him.

"Seriously, sweetness? Storks?" he asks, lifting his arm then dropping it to wrap round your shoulders as you reach him and snuggle into his side – only to catch hold of the hem of his huge sweater, and squeeze yourself into it, your tiny fingers clasping round his back as your head emerges at the top and you move to nuzzle into his neck, teeth biting cute little nips on the skin there.

If it was even two months back, Satoru reckons he would have been a hell lot stunned, seeing you give your affections so blatantly– that too at a place outside your shared bed, outside the darkness of the night.

But... It no longer is two months back. It is now. Not only in day, date, time. But also in the irreversibly mutated fashion the earth rotates on its axis everyday in the man's eyes. New experiences. New allies. New absences. New nightmares...— Everything's different from how it was before that chilly October night— Your husband deems it to be not an awful lot strange to see you too like this. The world is not the same as before; to survive, you too must change to adapt to the change, must you not?

Lips brushing your forehead once before dashing away, he asks in a soft yet humorous tone, "Too tired to give a reply, are we now, huh?"

"Not really," you hum, your words punctuated by a yawn you're quick to suppress; you resume, "I know only two birds which are said to be used in sending parcels and stuff. One, messenger pigeon– but they are too small to carry a cake like that. Two, stork– stories do say they were used to deliver babies – so I thought delivering a cake would be a piece of cake for them, heh!" You shoot him a grin, eyes crinkling at the corners into lovely half-moons, "Pretty funny and punny, ain't I?"

"Of course, sweetness. You are all three," Satoru is quick to agree with a nod— happy wife = happy life; plus, it's not like he's lying to you— A shadow of confusion falls on your face— Deciding to deal with it later, for the sake of the question weighing on his mind at the moment, the man repeats his ask from earlier, "You really really baked this for me?"

You return a nod, hints of a smile lurking in the shape of your lips.

"But why?"

Whatever happiness might've beginning to bloom on your features, it withers away– Your husband smacks himself internally for employing such a tone: So weak, so much so that it makes you peer up at him in concern he has only ever seen on you after a particularly bad mission.

So weak, so that it makes him hope you don't think him to be any less than 'The Strongest'— any less than being capable of standing beside you, protecting you, being worthy of you.

A pair of chapped lips plant themselves on his cheek. "Just because I wanted to bake a cake for you, 'Toru!" you explain with a giggle, albeit its subdued quality doesn't go past his eye, as you move a bit away to press a swift kiss on his other cheek; fingers drawing lazy patterns on his scalp and massaging the roots of his hair.

"You've always done too much for me and everyone else– Thought of returning the favour once, although I doubt it can ever match yours... Also, haven't you always wanted to eat a cake baked by yours truly?"

He has.

He so, so has.

Ever since the day you baked some muffins for him in the microwave oven of the school kitchen– him, a grumbling mess thanks to his all-too-familiar migraine and those old geezers– you, another grumbling mess thanks to your all-too-familiar insomnia and those annoying AF exams—

Satoru never imagined he could taste a sweet dish made by you ever again in his life, for the past ten years or so— given how the morning after that night you declared you would never bake again: "uff, that is too fuckin' tiring and boring!" and how every next time he came with a migraine to your door, you pointedly ignored his whining for you to bake him something, choosing to grab the warm and cold compress instead and give him a massage, following the manuals kept in stack-over-stack on your table—

Even during his teenage years, then later as an adult, the sorcerer has always missed your baking, but seeing you care for him in ways much too characteristically 'you'... he decided to pay no mind to such dumb wishes, he knows you'll never fulfill in this lifetime.

Except now you've fulfilled them and your husband doesn't know any response fitting enough to thank your efforts and thoughts through.

Throwing the cake a sideways glance, he brings his focus back to you gazing at him, to the eagerness reflecting in your irises. His lips tilt up into a smile, obeying a mind of their own.

"Blue velvet cake with white frosting... you sure do know how to make me happy, don't you, sweetness?" he muses out loud, carefully noting the warmth creeping up your neck into your cheeks and ears, "But, so much for a thanks... there must be another reason behind this, right?"

Feeling the tiny burst of air hitting him from your quiet exhale, Satoru lets you maneuver him towards the kitchen until he's leaning with his back against the marble island and you're nestling even closer to him.

A palm glides cautiously over the planes of his back.

Almost as if the man in front of you is a glass figurine–

Almost as if you're fine with him being a glass figurine.

So easy to read.

So easy to hurt.

So easy to care for with the gentlest of touches and softest of smiles, the look in your eyes tells every one of his six eyes– the innumerable chips and cracks in his very essence be damned—

You poke his cheek, a knowing twitch in your lips.

"You rarely ever cuddled me in bed before, yet now, every single night and day, I find you squeezing me with those arms and legs of yours..." Satoru's eyes widen. Your lips part in a fondly teasing grin. "Think why – really why– you hug me for warmth and don't hog the blankets; and you'll have your answer, 'Toru."

Birds shriek outside. Your mobile beeps thrice. Your omelette goes as frozen as poor Uranus on the countertop beside.

For the second time this cold day, the two of you break into laughter.

"And you'll have your answer, 'Toru!?!?" Satoru mimics you except in a soprano-esque shrill voice. "Who the fuck do you think we are, huh? A pair of lovers in some Shakespeare-y play, baring our feelings to each other in the soft glow of the winter sun, or some stupid shit like that?"

Another chuckle breaks free from your chest at his words; the grin on his face widening, he watches you take a long breath then say, "Nope nope nope! The both of us are way too uncivilised to play any role like in Shakespeare's plays — but Satoru~" you drawl your vowels out; his heart beats a little faster in his chest– "I can never be as unrefined as you, going as far as to keep your wife waiting, while you ask question after question– and not eat the cake and praise it, like a good spouse should, you know?"

"Oh, is it so?" The man inquires, brow raised, before warping with you in his arms to where the cake's kept, and cutting a big chunk with the knife kept, gobbles it all up in one go.

The tilt of your lips betrays the disapproving click your tongue makes.

A very content hum escapes Satoru. "Your baking's something out of this world–no, galaxy, sweetness. I hope you know–"

He stills, focus stolen by the letters and number a bit far on the table–

Satoru's gaze snaps back to you, only to find the same smile on your face– so simple, so devious– complicated and thwarted by the small expressive tremor of your lips; your gaze moving away from him to a calendar on your left and his right, the very same which stopped him—

Grasping your chin in his frosting-covered fingers, he drags your gaze back to himself, tutting, "You aren't any better than me, wifey. You too lack the same manners and etiquettes I do— So, now— c'mon, c'mon, c'mon–" he says, not unlike a broken record, playing the same section of music until he makes you cave in from the annoyance alone, "Wish your darling husband 'Happy Birthday 'Toru!!', give him a big birthday smooch, and be the courteous wife, you aren't really, but think you're— Now, go ahead, go ahead, go–"

"No."

"No?" Satoru echoes, holding back a weary chuckle. Or sigh. The man doesn't know which. You nod with that same stubborn determination of yours, he has happened to love-hate-tolerate over the years. "Yeah. No. I don't wanna. Wishing you can only solidify the fact that today is December 7th–"

"I think, the clock striking twelve few hours back solidified it–"

"Which will go on to cement the fact we're only 17 days away–"

"I don't think the fact needs any cementing. It's cast in stone–"

"Is there no way we can be happy, Satoru?"

Your question startles him into a momentary stun – not 'cause of the solemnity packed into every word of it – but because it serves as the mirror image to the question them cursed voices in his brain ask him in the warmth of the day, in the chill of the night, when he finds Yuuji sitting by himself with no spiky black hair nor bright orange hair next to him; when he catches the ashtray on Shoko's table filled with way too many cigarette stubs; when he wakes up to see you sitting in the dimly lit storeroom, a faded photograph or a childish drawing in your hand; when he looks at the mirror and finds the reason behind every pain his cherished ones have suffered, staring right back at him—

"There is," Satoru says, willing his mind to shut up for once, to let him say what he wants to say for once– the clock is ticking a bit too fast–

"Don't think of today as anything more than that it's December 7. Not how many days it's been since Halloween. Not how many days it'll be before it's Christmas Eve. Just focus on the fact it's my birthday, and everything will seem a hell lot better, even if it's only for a short time."

You peer at him attentively, before narrowing your eyes a bit. "Never took you as the kind to ignore reality, y'know?"

Your husband cracks an amused grin. "Still, standing in the middle of a warzone and actively ignoring it is cooler than running away from it, isn't it?"

"Cooler and dumber," you correct with a teasing grin and a waggle of your finger– however, before he can gather any retort to your remark, he finds himself being pulled down by his collar, his lips colliding with your waiting ones— the ensuing kiss a little sweet, a little spicy, a little shy, a little hungry; but overall, very, very addicting. Satoru thinks you can never give him kisses enough to satiate him, even for a tiny while.

He is always going to stay this ravenous, this yearning for you. In this lifetime and every other that follows. He can't ever get enough of you.

A tiny pop! reverberates in the bubble round you two, as your mouth gently separates from his, though never strays anywhere far, resting only few millimetres away. Eyes drifting to his swollen lips for a beat, Satoru watches you look at him again, cheeks heated and stretched in a smile.

"Happy birthday, Satoru," you whisper, "Many, many happy returns of the day."

"Thanks," the man mumbles, running a careful thumb back-and-forth over your bottom lip– before something clicks to life in his mind. Your husband registers a slow smirk form on his face. "But I guess it'll be a happier birthday if ya promise to bake me a cake every now and then. What do you think, sweetness?"

"Nah!" your reply arrives, as if it's a reflex response and not one which requires some thinking, "Baking's too fuckin' tiring and boring– But..." you trail off for a beat, the nonchalance on your face morphing into a tenderness– You resume, "Why don't you try and find out by yourself if I will ever decide to bake a cake for you, every now and then, yeah?"

The weight of your words lingers in the gap in between for a second.

Accepting the weight with an eager grin, Satoru closes the gap, him inclining forwards to rest his forehead on yours.

"Sounds like a challenge, sweetness. Good thing, I'm more than ready to try my best to meet it."

I do not own the characters used. Divider is by @cafekitsune. Please do not plagiarize or translate or repost this. Hope you enjoyed reading this! 😊

Please interact with This Post to be added to the series taglist! ❤️

Masterlist

[blippymilk]

Big Brother Veneer x Little Sister Reader

❥ Definitely your biggest supporter and hater at the same time (normal brother behavior)

❥ Although you wouldn’t consider having Veneer as a sibling a “normal” experience

❥ At all.

❥ He had very mixed feelings about you for the first few months of your life

❥ He knew he wasn’t the baby of the family anymore according to Velvet (and dude loves attention soooo)

❥ He thinks your cute but thinks he’s cuter

❥ May or may not have tried to plot with Velvet on how to get a stork to come by and take you back to where you came from (he was pure ok)

❥ For the record Velvet did not agree (she wants Veneer to experience what happened to her too)

❥ The second he learned to love you, you were his favorite person ever.

❥ Your parents stopped worrying about you when they couldn’t find you because they knew Veneer always had you

❥ When he first tried singing he would take you to his room, grab his microphone, and sing to you. And when you clapped for him with your little hands he felt so pleased

❥ As you became a bit older Veneer turned into your biggest cheerleader

❥ He always woke up before anyone else in the house to feed you or warm your milk when you were fussy

❥ He was there when you took your first step

❥ He was there cheering you on when you said your first word

❥ He was there when you took a bite of your first solid food

❥ Whatever the occasion you name it

❥ As you got a little older your parents tended to notice you had a lot more personality than they expected

❥ And it was sort of like Veneer’s (and a little of Velvet)

❥ Veneer loved that for you

❥ You were a pretty stand your ground kid, with a little sass

❥ Veneer risked being late on his first day back at school to see your first day in kindergarten

❥ Gave you as many words of advice as he could

“You go in there and show them who’s boss. And let me know if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll deal with them.”

❥ Veneer got smacked a little by his mom for the last sentence but he still stood by his word

❥ He was so happy for you later on when you came home excited

❥ Getting a little older and mature (around 5th grade) Veneer was basically your partner in crime

❥ Something was always happening under your household and it always landed back on you two

❥ Veneer’s the type of brother to know his parents will say no so he’ll send his younger sibling to ask

❥ One time Veneer encouraged you to watch a scary movie with him while the adults were away. You agreed and Velvet did not want to be apart of it.

❥ So by time your parents got back and it was lights out, you were shaking in your bed

❥ You ended up running to your parents to tell and you thought Veneer would be mad at you just for them to find him shaking in his bed too

❥ You both got grounded for a week

❥ When you made it to middle school Veneer noticed your energy shifting a little bit

❥ He knew there was a lot that could be happening to you in middle school because he hated middle school

❥ It could be teachers, students, homework, guys/girl problems, bullies, etc.

❥ So he convinced you to come to him whenever you needed to spill

❥ And you did

❥ Veneer definitely helped you with your fashion sense

❥ …Veneer when you get into your first relationship…😟

❥ Not exactly smooth sailing

❥ That’s why you tried to hide it at first

❥ Just so you know it did not work out and Veneer felt almost offended 😭

❥ Ends up getting along with them really well (if he likes their persona)

❥ But when it’s time for your first breakup he’s along with you every step of the way

“I never liked them anyways to be honest. You deserve way better.”

❥ Will definitely go with you to a school dance if no one else wants to

❥ And if you’re not into school dances yall are going somewhere fun like a movie, or a trampoline park

❥ Your brother Veneer who supports you reguardless of what you want to do in the future (he won’t ever let you be a lazy bum though)

❥ He cried when you started highschool

❥ If you both are in highschool together he’s your “bodyguard”

❥ Please don’t let him find out anybody is messing with you

❥ Likes to see what outfits you come up with on your own and he adores the way you dress

❥ His love for you never changes

❥ Veneer is overall just the best brother you could ask for

[mickc-art]

Helluva Boss redesign/rewrite: Stella

Like Stolas, Stella is going to have major changes when it comes to her design and her character. Stella is going to be a Goetian marquise named Shax but name Stella is used for her human disguise. Her design have major changes by changing her from a peahen to a stork that resembled Shax, a marquis from Ars Goetia. Like Stolas, she is a fallen angel of similar age of more than six thousand years.

Both Stolas and Stella were lovers and later turned to rivals later years (their rivalry was a bit slowburn). She was disliked by Blitz's department for infiltrating their missions (and they compete a lot).

Shax/Stella's redesign is based on Shax from Good Omens with 1900s-1930s fashion and makeup. Her outfit is based on equestrian outfit since Shax leads her legions with horses. Her usage of eyes as jewelry is based on one of Shax's ability to pluck eyes from her targets.

Inspirations

[fullmoonfireball]

y'know what, fuck it. i'm gonna try 'n' give a dump of some basic Olive and Podrey facts just to get stuff Out There:

as a default, i see them/their main designs as in their early-to-mid-teens. still very young but old enough to have been around a bit and have a couple adventures. i'm probably gonna still play around with them being younger/older every now and then though

they're stork babies! they were delivered together, but Podrey is considered the older of the two cousins.

Olive keeps up the family tradition of using a hammer as a weapon, while Podrey's more for swords- specifically, her weapon of choice is a longsword. the two of them also inherited the Firebrand and Thunderhand.

even if she'd like to give off the image of being cool and graceful, Podrey has two left feet, only able to beat her clumsiness in some areas through repeated practice. teaching her how to properly swordfight was A Task. honestly, this is a good microcosm of her whole deal.

Olive often seems a little like she has her head in the clouds, but she's actually quite observant, and has a tendency to overhear stuff she probably wasn't meant to. combined with her talkative nature, and you've got a bit of an accidental gossip on your hands! oops

while Olive might seem like the more appearance-focused of the two with her more put-together look and frilly fashion, Podrey is definitely the one who's more concerned with that. in her mind, she needs to look cool, and everything has to be just in place. she doesn't care if someone doesn't recognize her as royalty, so long as they see her as elegant and cool and confident, even if a bit rough around the edges... and don't notice all the awkward and clumsy bits underneath that persona.

[maxium-defense-luigi]

Mario and Luigi as the Creativitwins?

This is probable really niche but I do not care.

Since the amount of bowuigi fanfiction has been slowing down on Ao3 :( I've gone back to reading fanfics for Sanders sides. Which got me thinking about my favorite trash child, Remus, and of course his Twin Roman. Not in an au sort of fashion per se where it follows the plot of SS. Although now as I type I am getting something for that too (Might post it later). I'm mainly referring to the twins origins in the split and their being a Dark and a Light side of the world, for now.

So here's what I've got so far

Mario and Luigi where once a single child, brought to their parents by the storks just after being blessed with the powers of creation like most of the royal kingdoms children were. However their parents were obessesed with perfection and goodness and through a device and experimentation Manage to successfully separate the "Bad" traits (anxiety, nervousness, self doubt) and the "bad" parts of the child's creative powers from the child itself. Leaving them with a mostly whole child that they call Mario and the left over pieces they removed and have discarded into to the forest nearby beyond the boarder to the Dark side of the world.

These "left over's" are discovered by King Boo who painstakingly pieces them together and fills in the gaps with his own magic and the magic from his citizens over a series of months while being chased around by the Light. The result is little Luigi, a three quarter boo child made almost entirely by magic and emotion.

Raised separately, they have very different background and personality's but are forced together in young adulthood whenever the powers of Creation draws them alongside Daisy and Peach to teach them the skills they need as rulers.

Bowser and Luigi are childhood friends turned very happily betrothed in this specific version I've detailed though I do have versions where they meet one another at this school

Bowser is Janus because snake man. Peach is Logan because she's calm and collected. Daisy is Patton because she's up beat and morally headstrong. Mario is Roman obviously. And Luigi is a combo of Virgil and Remus.

[cheapsweets]

The perspicacious Yaggzrok

My response to this week’s BestiaryPosting challenge, from @maniculum

I feel like I'm definitely getting better at drawing birds, but it's also making it much more obvious when I mess up the anatomy :D

Initial pencil sketch, then Sailor fude nib fountain pen with Rohrer & Klingner Sepia ink for the lines. I think I need to find a fine-nib fountain pen, and try drawing with that - the flexibility of the fude nib (in terms of thick/thin lines and being able to transition easily between them) is really nice, but for now being able to keep a consistent (and thin) line would benefit me more in terms of learning and practicing, particularly some of the tiny details I keep trying to include! :D

Reasoning under the cut...

Isidore says this about it: ‘The Yaggzrok is so called because it does not feed on the ground but catches its food and eats it in the air. It is a twittering bird that flies in twisting, turning loops and circuits, is highly skilled in building its nest and rearing its young, and has also a kind of foresight because it lets you know when buildings are about to fall by refusing to nest on their tops. In addition, it is not harassed by birds of prey nor is it ever their victim. It flies across the sea and winters there.’ -

So, we know this is a twittering bird that exhibits 'hawking' behaviour (eating on the wing), and that it nests on the top of buildings. How does it do that? Well, it's here that I start to have some suspicions about this creature's identity, so I start to backpedal furiously. Now, non-small birds that make their nests on houses? How about storks, nesting on chimney stacks? I'm not entirely sure how fire-safe the nest in the top-right illustration is, but maybe the smoke keeps parasites out?

We can also see that the canny Yaggzrok has been very smart about which house the nest was built on. The owner of the house marvels at his good fortune, while his neighbour... :(

The top left illustration shows the Yaggzrok flying in loops over a body of water.

The Yaggzrok is a tiny bird but of an eminently pious nature; lacking in everything, it constructs nests which are more valuable than gold because it builds them wisely. For the nest of wisdom is more precious than gold. And what is wiser than to have, as the Yaggzrok does, the capacity to fly where it likes and to entrust its nest and its young to the houses of men, where none will attack them. For there is something attractive in the way that the Yaggzrok accustoms its young from their earliest days to the company of people and keeps them safe from the attacks of hostile birds. -

It's a small bird, so nothing so magnificent as a raggfong, but we do know it's extremely skilled at constructing its nests (though I suspect 'more valuable than gold' might be pushing it). Again, it's reiterated that it builds nests on human houses - it you look *really* carefully you can see a couple of Yaggzrok chicks peeking out of their nest, waiting for a parent to return.

Then, remarkably, the Yaggzrok creates a regularly-proportioned home for itself without any assistance, like a skilled craftsman. For it gathers bits of straw in its mouth and smears them with mud so that they stick together; but because it cannot carry the mud in its claws, it dips the tips of its wings in water, so that dust sticks to them easily and turns into slime, with which to gather to itself bits of straw or tiny twigs, a few at a time, and makes them stick. It makes the whole fabric of the nest in this fashion, in order that its young can live safely as if on a solid floor in houses on the ground, lest any of them insert a foot between the small gaps in the woven fabric or the cold should get to the very young. -

More detail on the nests - a regularly proportioned home? A solid floor? Maybe the sharp angles in the corners of the nest are a little excessive, but they bring across the point!

In the bottom left, we can see a Yaggzrok gathering material for the next; straw in the mouth, ready to be smeared in mud, but more importantly, *slime* on the wings... :p

This conscientiousness is fairly common among most birds, yet what is distinctive about the Yaggzrok is its special loving care, shrewd intelligence and the extraordinary quality of its understanding. Then there is its skill in the arts of healing: if its young are infected by blindness or pricked in the eye, it has some kind of healing power with which it can restore their vision. -

At this point, I couldn't think of much to express this part of its behaviour, so I opted for a more detailed sketch of the Yaggzrok hawking (which also gave me an excuse to draw a medieval bug!).

In terms of general anatomy, I looked at flycatchers (small, hawking birds, some of which have a small crest), but dialled up the exageration to make it a little more distinctive. In terms of the overall structure and setup, I was influenced by @coolest-capybara's Raggfong illustration and the multiple panels, given that I wanted to express multiple different aspects of this bird's behaviour (I did it in a less narrative way though, which I might rethink if I try this structure again).

I also took some inspiration from this post that @coolest-capybara reblogged; my copy of M.S. Bodley 764 is still in mothballs while I'm following these challenges, so I'm trying to find some good resourses for medieval illustrations (houses was a real struggle!) without doing direct searches for animals and (potentially) getting spoiled...

[queeniecook]

November 24 - Part 1

Today is Maira's birthday party. It's being held at the community center in San Sequoia, turns out Rahmi has some cousins there and they paid to rent the build for the party. Thankfully Thomas has stepped up and offered to pay for half of everything - without being asked. Maybe he's trying to turn over a new leaf but I personally don't trust him. I will keep my opinions to myself though unless asked.

My daughter decided to crawl for the first time this morning while I was on the loo. I yelled for Caleb and he rushed in to take a picture and record her crawling.

I didn't really want to leave after that, but I said I would be at the party - plus I'm meeting Naya in San Sequoia to take AJ to the party while she goes to check out the fashion scene in town. I don't mind taking my nephew to the party at all.

AJ chatted up the birthday girl after we arrived at the community center, so I went inside to find Rahmi. I didn't know if she needed help with any finishing touches or not.

I couldn't help but notice the way Ukupanipo was looking at Rahmi but maybe it's just my wishful thinking. So I stayed back and asked Rashidah instead if there was anything I could help with.

After helping put up the last of the balloons, I went to join AJ in the playroom.

"Aunt Vera?" AJ asked me sweetly. 

I almost narrowed my eyes because it reminded me of Apollo when he was little and wanted to play with my toys. "Yes, AJ?"

"When are you going to have another baby? I like playing with Este but I want another baby to play Mr. Stork with." AJ told me before making the toy in his hand making a roaring noise.

I wasn't even sure how to answer that. Este is enough right now, I wasn't sure if I could handle being pregnant and chasing her around once she learns to walk. "Uh....Mr. Stork?" I asked dumbly, trying to divert his attention from the question. I was saved by a little girl that came into the room and asked AJ to play with her.

Her name is Alora Prescott. She and AJ really seemed to hit it off.

next ->

[blueroseevergreen]

Ranting about Smurfette because it's 1AM and I don't have a life.

I've heard a lot of people over the years talk about how Smurfette is an icon for sexism. Maybe she is, but you don't fix a stereotype by making another stereotype.

I really like the original Smurfette because of her interest in perfumes, fashion, flowers and nurturing; because when I saw that smurfette as a kid, I saw me. I'm sure many girls now will look up to modern Smurfette that can practice Kung Fu and defend herself, but I'm sure that there's many kids that hate the idea of confrontation, like me, that won't see themselves. In attempts for companies to avoid any negative publicity at all and embrace feminism, most media havr forgotten that people like Smurfette do exist.

The feministic portrayal of Smurfette goes against how they believe she is in her original, feminine state. They don't believe she can stand up for herself, or is willing to speak up against her male counterparts. But this isn't true, because she fights for her beliefs on many occasion. For example, in the episode "Once in a Blue Moon", she writes a very aggressive letter to the Storks, reprimanding them for their behaviour. She's also willing to yell and put her foot down if she's been wronged, such as in "The Lost City of Yore" when Smurfette had no trouble yelling at Nosey for invading her privacy. Although these occasions are few and far between because of her level temper compared to other Smurfs, they do happen.

But it's understandable for this to translate into her passively following the instructions of a man as unlike the other Smurfs, she doesn't fight in the traditional sense, as in fist fighting. I don't think this translates into a character flaw, however. I believe that showing that she is level headed and unwilling to result to violence is a good lesson for young girls, it can teach them that they can talk about their problems and work them out without the need for physical violence.

And my final point before I pass out: Smurfette is special because her interests go well beyond flowers OR makeup OR dresses OR vanity, much like Vanity Smurf and Tailor Smurf, she is actually a [somewhat] complex character [as complex as The Smurfs could get] because of her interests going beyond the flanderisation of a personality.

I believe, especially with the introduction of the Smurfette village in the new show, it should utilise new characters to be a role model for children that want to be active and strong; and it should let Smurfette be the role model for kids that are interested in more feminine and non-confrontational things.

OK. I like Smurfette as she was because I am extremely biased towards the characterisation of her in the comics and the 80s show, but if you prefer her interpretation in "Lost Village" and the new show, that's fine by me.

I'm going to go pass out now.

Love you <3

[proton-wobbler]

Round 1, Poll 54

Oriental Stork vs Arabian Babbler

sources under cut

Oriental Stork Propaganda

"it's very fashionable, you understand. iconic wading bird elegant figure. the red eyeliner and the black beak. Very Classy."

This stork was historically found in Japan, Manchuria, Korea, and Siberia. It was extirpated from Japan and the Korean Peninsula, but in 2007 there was a report of a hatchling in the wild- the first time in 40 years.

As these birds were largely impacted by the growing rice industry and use of pesticides, there has been a push for rice to be organically grown so the storks have a chance to successfully breed.

Arabian Babbler Propaganda

"I spend lots of time in the Desert and see them around a lot!"

"in Hebrew, they are called ""Zanvan"" which means ""Tail haver""! They have a habit of lifting their long tail up and wagging it a bit like wagtails :) Also I often see them in the morning and they are so cute that they almost make living in the middle of the desert worth it despite the giant camel spiders everywhere."

They have private sex. We still don't know why because it's typically the main mated pair doing this, so it's not like it's a competition thing. They just like to be private.

Guys they are So Complex with their social grouping, I would need an entire post to describe them. They've been studied as a particularly altruistic species with many helpers to the breeding pair.

Image Sources: Stork (u7 Liao); Babbler (Itamar Donitza)

(the private sex thing is from a book: The Bird Way by Jennifer Ackerman)

[harrison-abbott]

Copenhagen Travels - Part III

A bout to the cemetery the other side of the island is the morning plan.

Sunny day. Buoyant sanguine Spring sunshine that pangs off the canal

Water and sparkles that and sparkles the bikes stacked up in their hundreds

By the streets as you dally. You need a fridge magnet for going back home.

Heading off into the hub of the city centre looking for a souvenir store you

Pass the corporate shops with the famous international names. On broad

Windows are splashed the adverts for cosmetics and perfume with these

Supermodels pouting their pulpy lips. And unfortunately there are the

Fast food branches with their sickly logos, mixed in with the fashion stores,

The shoe shops with their lady leather boots erectile through the screens.

On each restaurant MENU that you pass it’s all either meat or fish.

The coins are a bit confusing in Denmark and when you find a magnet you

Like you give the girl at the counter too much change.

After the store you head into this new park with a little lake inside it

All amazed by the light of the sky in simmering in pure reflections.

Swans and ducks mosey about, about as careless as water birds can be.

You come out of the park and onto the bridge that crosses the main canal

Leading off the island and on the brinks of the bridge are the bloody flags

Of Denmark again. Shortly after the crossing you come upon a basketball

Court. Surrounded by buildings smothered in graffiti. The courts of the

Playing field make you wish you had a ball to bounce there, to throw up

At those orange lurking rings … and you can’t discern much of the graffiti

Letters on the walls, nor understand the artwork spattered between the

Raw inscriptions, but they work in the rash urban zeal of the scene.

The scenery quickly changes into a charming district of florists, bakeries,

Bike hire shops, ice cream parlours. Shame you can’t really appreciate

Any of the cuisine, for personal ethical reasons (ha).

In close time you reach the cemetery.

Hans Christen Andersen is buried there. It is odd how a field full of

Skeletons underneath the soil can attract so many free people a day.

Free of charge you can go and see the tombs of dead folks and maybe

Tingle at the nuance of their bones under the flowers and grass that

Align their patches. Above Hans’ tombstone they’ve put Daffodils

And tulips, looking like any Easter Card decoration. Born in 1805,

Died in 1875. Snow queens, angels, goblins, elves, storks, teapots

And ugly ducklings don’t seem to have anything to do with this pretty

Graveyard. But it gives you a bit of momentum, a bit of inspiration,

To try and have achieved something before you perish yourself.

Maybe try and do something before you die to perhaps have your own

Bones nestle in a similar place somewhere on this sublime continent?

…

You figure you might try a museum next. And there’s a castle along

The way so you can see that too.

Heading along in that direction you come across a bunch of kids

Out playing on the street. Are they high school kids? They play

With basketballs and footballs and they shriek and shout with that inner

Value of youth. It’s a week day after all and so they must be on their

Lunch break from the school. Do you wish you were as young

As them? Not really because you remember the agony of adolescence.

And yet, these days when you look across at the car reflections in Europe

You see your white hair and your tired face and you’re always on your

Own and thus you don’t really feel young anymore: and all the folks

In the hotels you stay in are either way younger than you or far older,

And thus you don’t seem to belong to a particular age bracket.

But, meh, oh well, whatever. You’re still alive and that’s what counts.

On the upper scores of the buildings are random chunks of letters

That resemble steampunk videogames from the 1990s, or graphic novels

From the 1980s: and it’s remarkable how those concepts will have influenced

Such phenomena in modernity, right there, illegally splayed on the roofs

Of the city centre houses. …

You get to the castle. There are spike gates in front of a long meadow

Leading up to the building. In the foreground of the fortress are a band

Of soldiers in boots and fancy hats, playing music. A big brass band.

Pumping out crowd-pleasers with their fat drums, trumpets and blushed faces.

They seem to be performing to nobody in particular save the gabble

Of tourists picking photos from 200 yards outside the gates.

But they still do the music pretty well. Have to hand it to them.

The other side of the street there are a couple of Danish men getting drunk

On one of the benches. They drink from green cans and have sweaty faces

And the bigger man sings something to you as you pass. Not intimidating,

Though: only merry rather than offensive. … …

Okay so here’s the museum. History museum. With a mix of cultural and artistic

Regalia from within Denmark and across Europe and northern Africa.

There are respectable ladies at Reception.

They give you a key to stack your bag, and then you head upstairs, going to

The top floor. As you ascend, the light diminishes and all grows dark, and

As you head unto the showrooms, it’s like being a kid again going on a school

Trip, when you’re in a new environment, and it’s humid and there are these

Glass boxes blooming in the darkness. … Maps, diagrams, histories of warfare,

Ancient coins, ancient knives and pistols. They’re all real and so you wonder

Whether they ever killed anybody.

There’s a whole region dedicated to Islamic history. The empires that ranged across

A mammoth wedge of two continents, that spanned between Spain and Persia.

And so you read the snippets of writing under each display. They all seem to

Acknowledge violence as the cursor for history????????????????????????????????

When you go downstairs you see the other floors. They are filled with Danish

Pottery, in milky whites and blue, these china pots and plates that you would

Fear dropping on the floor if you ever held them. … Whilst you’re walking

About, a woman with a museum uniform on comes and asks you to tie your

Coat around your waste. “Okay, that’s fine,” you say. … You explore the rest

Of the floors. Then you figure to head back to the hotel.

Whence outside of the museum the clouds have overtaken the sky and there

Seems premonition in the grey dyes of them.

Head back to the hotel for just now and perhaps a night walk later on?

[kayze-draws]

NEST character asks!!

this,, this is gonna be a long one

NEST is an aspiring competitive team with big dreams for the future. they’re a bunch of goobers who banded together to make their leader’s childhood fantasies a reality. they’re probably roommates or live on the same street or something like that.

Feel free to ask them.. anything! Favorites, preferences, whatever. There is an itty bit of story to them, if you know what to ask. This is a method to help me better develop them as characters.

[designs and information are subject to change] [characters are still under development personality-wise]

Phineas ‘Stork’ (he/him)

Stork is the leader and founder of NEST. He’s a good sport, but loves to be competitive and take on new challenges. He’s a bit sheepish and modest when it comes to discussing his skill in Ranked, and often shies away when complimented.

Though Stork is lenient (and a bit of a pushover), he can still manage his team. He’s known to have a “death-stare”, which is when his teammates need to start getting serious, but they usually dance around that point. Still, Stork wouldn’t trade his team for anything, even if they annoy him, and he is insanely grateful for them. He works very hard to be a good team captain and player, unafraid to call out opposing players and offer encouragement.

His ink is a bit more pastel and dull in compare to his teammates.

18K Aviators, Black Arrowbands

Orca Bolero, Hula Punk Shirt

Arrow Pull-Ons, Annalise Strappy Sandals

~ ~ ~

Carl ‘Peacock’ (he/him)

Peacock is a fair bit sassy and moody when comfortable, but is otherwise quiet and reserved. He rarely says much, having a lack of comments and replies to small talk. He spends a lot of time on his phone.

He is very close to Stork, and oftentimes helps him with leading when it becomes too stressful. He has the second-to-most experience in Turf War.

Peacock loves fashion as well, and is prideful in his ability to dress and style his teammates so they always look their best. (Which, Stork is very thankful for.) Gift giving is his favorite show of affection.

Full-Moon Glasses, House-Tag Denim Cap

Barazushi Wrap, Deepsea Tangle Top

Field Duck Boots

~ ~ ~

Jamie ‘Pigeon’ (any)

Pigeon is a loose cannon type of player. They always are on offense, springing up behind opponents to kill them with fast-firing weapons. Pigeon prefers to work by himself, and he generally struggles to follow orders, work as a team, and respect Stork, but he is slowly getting better.

Pigeon is a definite jokester, oftentimes making teases and jabs at others’ expenses. She never makes herself the butt of the joke.

Crust Bucket Visor, Bream-Brim Cap

Motley Hoodless, Rugby King 08,

Red Slip-Ons, Fry Tops

~ ~ ~

Marley ‘Quail’ (she/they)

Quail is very relaxed and carefree, skilled enough to provide training for her teammates. She focuses on the finer skills, such as aim, and is usually the one to calm down Pigeon. She’s sort of the ‘mom friend’ of the group, mediating the small arguments between Pigeon and their leader.

Outside of training with her team, Quail likes to do yoga, pilates, and art. They’re quite creative and help build team outfits and coordination with Peacock. She also helps plan events, lending Stork a hand when they enroll in competitions and fun outings.

(She’s probably the least developed.)

Short Beanie, Bucket Hat

Sudadera Celeste

Punk Whites

[ms-scarletwings]

Creacher Feature Friday 10: That’s No Spoonbill, but it’s Pretty in Pink!

Or should it be called Flamingo Friday, ha ha! eyyyy 👉🥴👉

Requiring little more introduction than that, most people already perceive these as unique enough birds at face value, with their odd shapes, famously salmon-to-pink plumage, and stylish struts; indeed, these bubblegum swans have captured the hearts of many the bird enthusiast and the intrepid lawn decorator. Nonetheless, all that shimmers in the sun is not cheap plastic, and there are many layers of deeper weirdness behind the flamingo than most could imagine. Let’s see if we can take a crack at it below!

As we begin with our triple Fs (fun flamingo facts), there’s no better place to begin covering like the basics. Flamingos, of the family Phoenicopteridae, are omnivorous shorebirds which live in large social flocks, or “flamboyances”, and use their specialized beaks to filter feed algae and small organisms from the waters they do love to wade. Though we often refer to them as one sort of animal, there’s actually six total species of flamingo. Two of them can be found in Africa, and the other four call the central and southern Americas their native home.

Very fittingly, you may notice that the smallest species has been dubbed the Lesser flamingo, while the largest of the family is the Greater bird, at least in height! Besides general size, the bulk of the morphological difference between these species actually goes into the specialization of their bills. Which does make sense, as their different migratory patterns and natural ranges have long fine tuned them for maximizing what they could gain of their own localized food sources.

Personally, I’d call the American Flamingo my favorite of the batch. It’s just almost about as big as the tallest ones, while standing apart as their most vibrantly colored cousins. Also known as the Caribbean flamingo, it’s also the only species actually native to the North American range as well as the Caribbean and Galápagos Islands.

For some, it’s a commonly held, intuitive misconception that flamingos find close relatives in that of the spoonbill storks or water-wading cranes, but it actually turns out that they share a much closer evolutionary line with that of grebes. What’s a grebe? They’re little and funny and they look like this

So certainly another funky bird of all time. What’s an even stranger piece of their history is the fact that these two animal types share a closer genetic lineage to that of land doves than they do to other water birds. Yeah, that’s including herons and ducks. The things we would near never guess without DNA analysis is such a head screw, sometimes. Or at least, a head scratcher.

You are what you eat

To speak again of the firey fashion sense of the marsh prowling American Flamingo, they in fact, like all Phoenicopteridae species, owe their coloration to a steady diet of aquatic organisms and plant matter they separate from the water with their teeth- well, not “teeth” per se, more like these unnerving, toothy ridges along their bills and yes, tongue.

Both mouth features act together much like the bristles of a baleen whale’s own jaws to comb and trap all manner of delicious critters and algae that the birds so love to snack on. Critters and algae that just so happen to also be filthy rich in carotenoids (organic, warm-color pigments) responsible for the natural colors of MANY living things, in fact: from the pink flesh of salmon who draw from the same food web, to lobsters, to pumpkins, and especially carrots, which can even alter the color of human skin if eaten in huge excess. In other words, you can tell a lot about how a flamingo’s been eating lately from the vibrance of its feathers. Their offspring, logically, come out as an adorably blank, fresh canvas of sort.

Unfortunately, though, you may notice they also enter the world with wimpy little bills not as equipped to start scooping krill and small fish out of the shore. So, how’s the grey lil goober to eat, then? Easy, the same way pigeons and male emperor penguins feed their own young, interestingly:

🍼🦩Bird Milk~! ✨

Yeah that’s right, lactation is yet one more thing mammals can’t say they hold a true monopoly on! Okay fine, there are a few differences. In this handful of avians, milk produced to nurture hatchlings is secreted by the lining of the crop (the first major stop in the digestive tract of a bird) and then regurgitated into the younger’s waiting mouth. This is also why the formal name for the stuff is “crop milk”. Nutritionally speaking, it’s high in protein and fats, but where it really differs from mammalian secretions is that it lacks carbohydrates. Most fascinatingly, though, the process of making crop milk and the process of mammalian milk production are induced by the same hormone- prolactin. What makes this phenomenon all the weirder in flamingos is all of those aforementioned carotenoids I mentioned them eating… well, funny side effect of that seems to be that it turns their milk blood red. Big part of why this specific “creepy” photo circulated like wildfire in some places of the internet.

Brutal as it may appear on first glance, it’s actually a wholesome demonstration of two proud parents working together to grow up a healthy and well-fed baby! You may also notice that the parents themselves look practically ghostly in the image. Just another side effect of good parenting. All of that sharing food means less pretty color juice for mom and dad to spare on their own appearance.

But this all this cozy attention within the nest site marks only the first few days of a chick’s life. By the passage of the first couple weeks, the newborn has begun to waddle around and explore well beyond the spot it hatched from, eventually joining up into massive groupings (called crèches) with the rest of the colony’s wee ones.

While mom and dad will still feed their own children, the crèche itself is guarded communally by the flock’s adults, related or not. It’s a behavior also seen in some penguin species to maximize the safety of an entire community’s offspring from predation. And these communities can be massive in the wild, made up of anywhere from hundreds to even thousands of breeding flamingos. Recent study has even indicated a greater depth to their social behavior than we’ve suspected before, complete with complex inter-group dynamics, the forming of cliques between birds of similar personality, and even what resembled friendship bonds between individual flamingos that would play a social support role for one another during conflicts. As well, the colony itself sticks together tightly and acts as one unit when it comes to the most essential stuff- migrating, feeding, and most particularly in breeding. Courting and nesting rituals are synchronized among the entire flock, with individual flamingos pairing off into monogamous partnerships for the whole of the season. Typically, they will lay one egg, sometimes more rarely fostering an unrelated hatchling, as in the case of the occasional same-sex pairing (another similarity they seem to hold in common with penguins).

And what time they are given to fill with such rich social lives! In the wild, flamingos are known to live between 20 and 30 years, but under captive care they have been known to top out into their 40s-50s. On the most extreme end, we have even seen outliers such as Betty, a captive Caribbean flamingo who passed away at 67 years old, and the world record achieving Greater, who stretched out to an astounding 83 years old in an Australian zoo before being humanly euthanized. Whoever said that the brightest flame must also burn the fastest was clearly leaving these wonderful birds out of their metaphor.

And so fare thee well, flamingos. For a first, we have a relatively popular animal to hand the spotlight moment for this tidbit. Hoping that I played at least a tiny part to mystify and then immediately demystify something new about a quirky, frilly dinosaur. Until next 💞