#wing growers

[aphelion-alifer]

nonhumanity is NOT a trend.

nonhumanity, therianthropy, alterhumanity, otherkinity, etc.. contrary to popular belief, is NOT a trend, nor should it be treated as such.

when you are nonhuman in any kind of way, it is for life. sure, it could be a phase for some people, but for most, this is their way of life. our ways of life and culture shouldn't be treated like some silly internet fad, and I hate that misconception that it is. sure, I may not 100% know what I am, but I DO know that my lifelong connection to the sky and having wings will forever haunt me. my calling to the sky is permanent. being nonhuman is permanent when you truly are just a creature at heart, soul, mind, and within your body if it's physical. it's not about masks, quadrobics, crafts, accessories, aesthetics, music, etc. these things can help you express yourself, but they aren't what makes up what makes you nonhuman. putting on a mask wont turn you into a therian if you're human and saying some words on a piece of paper wont physically turn you into an animal. nonhumanity, therianthropy, etc, it's not a choice - it's a discovery. and if it turns out that you're human or nonhuman, either path is okay. it's okay to be wrong.

things and folks can change, but our existence is eternal.

[harloqui]

I wanted to touch upon something I saw in one of the reblogs, because it annoys me to see things taken out of context.

This picture:

Is not referring to isolating yourself as a human. It's from the Avian FAQ about living with wings, and is not in reference to being a shifter, or even the group in general. It's about the changes one would need to make once they physically grow wings.

Avians differ from shifters in that they generally believe that their wings grow onto their bodies, and cannot be removed once in place. They don't go back and forth like shifters, they're in one form for life. As a result, many believe that if you do grow wings and wish to keep the secret hidden, you'd be living alone or on a farm somewhere, where people can't get you - the alternative is to be in society with wings, and then everyone would know about you. They don't self-isolate in the group, they prepare to isolate physically (as in, away from everyone) once they get their wings.

...But obviously, if you don't believe anybody IS growing wings then this isn't a problem. And even then, I've seen some people claiming to be or know fully-fledged avians while also using their phones, so this call to isolate with wings is clearly not being listened to.

[aphelion-alifer]

long, very long. big feathers and a wingspan that spans somewhere around 18-26 ft (going off of my phantom wing length), and they look like a cross between a black kite and a red tailed hawk in terms of colors but in terms of their shape they look like a black kite's/a turkey vulture type of shape due to their large size, and i like to think that my wings may have a slight goldeny brown glow under sunlight.

p.s - im going based off of my experiences/instincts and what i connect to the most, not that i physically have wings (yet) or on an astral level exactly know what they look like, but i have a pretty good idea.

answer me this, if you would

you've got wings

no, no, don't question it, just keep looking at me

you've got wings

what do they look like?

[butmakeitgayblog]

I gotta ask, do Clarke and Lexa have any acrobatic sex in the air once Lexa's comfortable flying again 👀

Lexa can get Clarke off but there's not chance in literal hell that Clarke could get Lexa off. Idk if she's made this clear with how cool, calm, and collected she always is every time Clarke touches her ( ಠ_ಠ), but actually Lexa loses her entire shit whenever she comes. They'd either end up plummeting to earth or shooting halfway up to the ISS

[roseseafoam]

Unpopular opinion: I actually liked most of Chill Kill… my other Red Velvet loving bestie makes fun of me because I always take up for the slower songs, but it’s honestly a solid album. Far from Bop City, but at this point, I’ll take anything that breaks the Curse of the ReVe Festival…

[minimiaarts]

Redesigns!

My redesigns of these three :3c Shadow's EMO !!!!!! Here are some of my headcanons for them!

Shadow:

Triangle & Spike Motifs: he's sharp!!!

He's got loads of piercings because how could he just choose one?

I would've given him 20+ more belts but settled for only 2, gotta be semi-realistic. He's a trend setter.

The boots give him at least three inches of height

Double A for Autistic & Asexual mf!!!

He-Him; but he probably doesn't perceive gender or shit "are u man?" "Im the ultimate life form" he don't gaf what people refer to him as, least they remember who he is.

Sonic:

Rings! Rings & Lightning Motifs !!! he is speed...

BIG OL' GREY SWEATS!!! He's a grower not a show-er.

The sweats also give him an upright triangle silhouette = hero silhouette

He DJ's on the weekends & uploads music to SoundCloud--he's a micro-celebrity on there

This mf can't tie shoelaces ... so he wears velcro shoes (the buckle is NOT functional, purely aesthetic ..........)

he's somewhere on the spectrum, where? yes

Aromantic :3

TRANS because I said so

Amy:

Heart Motifs--she is my sweet passion <3

Freckles because CUTE !!! :3c

She wears HELLA mascara, makeup is her expression and she loves the drama. She also helps Shadow with his eyeliner :P

She can talk to her Piko Hammer (& she responds in tweets/chirps) ! Hearts follow after each wing :3c

Only Amy can lift the hammer, its like Mjölnir

Bisexual Cis she-her Queen

ADHD--she has a HUGE fixation on astrology

She's colorblind (Tritanopia exactly) !!! its why she confuses Sonic & Shadow (it's my only explanation)

Share y'alls headcanons with me--I'd love to hear them :3c

[May 23 2024]

[aphelion-alifer]

this is exactly why I started this blog, as well as nonhumanity: a history! I felt a need for more connections, to bring folks together, to educate, and to give more physical nonhumans a safe space to be themselves.

the physical nonhuman community, from what I've seen, has been decreasing and disconnecting over the years, and I wanted to create a space that I would like to be a part of here on this blog, especially since there aren't any active avian or winged individuals running blogs these days that are physically nonhuman from what I can tell.

over the years, I've been a part of countless now inactive or forgotten forums, servers, and groups, and all I've ever wanted was connection to a community that understood me and my experiences. isolation is a very real thing when it comes to being nonhuman, and I hope to lessen those feelings amongst other nonhumans, as well as the fact that I wanted to give avians or other physically winged beings someone or something to relate to in their journey, because that's something I've needed for a long time myself.

Be active in the things you care about!

Upset about misinformation spread by younger therians on tiktok? Instead of just reposting and being upset about it, go make a tiktok account and start posting informationally about therianthropy, try to include sources!

Want more alterhuman buddies on tumblr? Go interact with your community!! Reply in length to posts, and not just in tags, comment your thoughts, send in asks to blogs you think are cool saying hello! I do hope I speak for most when I say that everyone would be overjoyed to chat! Don’t be embarrassed or intimidated, we’re all in this together!

Want to help stop alterhumans aiding the fur farm industry? Post a list of resources and shops that sell actually humane fur and bones, and update it occasionally!

Tired of having no otherkin meetups in your area? Organize one! Start small, just a meetup and a few activities, you’ve got this!

Want alterhuman books? Congrats you’re a writer now! Want fictionkin music? Check out that cool musician right there, on the other side of the screen! Stained glass pieces, website building, art, woodworking, games, embroidery, streaming, and on and on! You can do whatever you put your mind to! Don’t wait for others to pick up the slack, you can be the first!

Good luck everycreature, and happy howling!

[official-penis-posts]

Hey, the only person I’m trying to please with this blog is meself, so requests to post or not post more of something or less of something are just going to amuse me at best.

But I do think the request to tag literal penis is reasonable help me decide what that tag should be:

[overtaken-stream]

Words cannot describe how bad I want to deep throat Kings cock..I would try so hard to get at least a moan out of him. Maybe even teasing him a little, My tongue circling around his tip😁

I'm too happy to be typing this shame on me fr😔

(Sorry for the errors english isn't my first language)

King's dick headcanons

Dont worry your english is fine!

Tumblr fucked this up for me and didn't let me save my first draft of this ask, this is the second time I'm writing this :< Also, I couldn't call his balls balls and testicles so the medical terms are what you're getting.

! !NSFW! !

King is described as a muscular, broad-shouldered, and long-limbed man who stands at 6+ meters and carries heavy wings on his back, despite the overwhelming urge to make him a shower, I believe he is a grower.

Before getting to the main course, we have to mention the carpet that does not match the drapes. King in general is not a hairy guy, he has white streaks on his arms and legs as well as stubble, but there is no chest hair and a happy trail to speak of. He keeps his pubic hair short and trimmed at all times, because he finds it mildly infuriating that the longer the white strands grow the curlier they get, causing them to get stuck through the fabric.

The pubic hair leads down to a contrasting dark skin and thick dorsal veins which bulge from the flesh, they follow the darker mushroom-shaped tip, that slightly turns towards the sky, it manages to hit the vital spots needed for any woman's orgasm. His flaccid length is 33cm, while erect, King reaches 46cm. The girth is also no joke, which gives a hard time to anyone trying to take it inside.

His penile raphe is thin and it slowly becomes thicker the closer it gets to his scrotum, which is way bigger than any human's and hangs heavy from his crotch.

I'm thinking about a piercing right between the line of where his scrotum meets the dick, but I'm not involved in the piercing world so go crazy with your ideas.

Basically, he is MEGA hung.

[elrielsgarden]

Elain Archeron Week Recap

Day 7: Growth 🌱

“‘she loves her garden. always loved growing things. even when we were destitute, she managed to tend a little garden in the warmer months. and when—when our fortune returned, she took to tending and planting the most beautiful gardens you’ve ever seen. even in Prythian.’”

- A Court of Wings and Ruin by Sarah J. Maas

Elain is a nurturer, someone who cultivates growth. to depict this morwenaert drew Elain caring for her garden. tending to a garden has been a vital part of Elain’s growth as a character; she’s had her own garden from the human realms to Velaris. i think this is such a beautiful parallel to how Elain has grown, and i can’t wait to read her book and finally be in our flower-grower’s head! the yellow jasmine in Elain’s hair is to represent her scent—jasmine and honey! morwenaert is absolutely brilliant for coming up with the yellow jasmine to also incorporate the color of honey.

art by morwenaert on Instagram

commissioned by bookish.biologist on Instagram (me!)

likes, comments, and shares appreciated!

please do not repost without permission from me!

thank you 🫶

[lifeofalegacy]

Life of a Legacy Chapter 1

The First chapter in a HotGuy and CuteGuy AU.

It had been two years since his sister Pearl went missing. In that time, Grian had done well for himself, earning a promotion to head architect at the company his good friend, Scar, ran. His best friend Mumbo was finally getting his urban agriculture project approved, and he'd heard they found a building to put it in. Even his younger brother Jimmy got a well-paying job working with foster kids for the city. But the pain still lingered. The type that came from family secrets he couldn't reveal to Jimmy, that came from his deformed wings, and from every day he remembered that Jimmy was all he had left. And the guilt that came from the family heirloom tucked away his drawer, the very cause of all of this. Little did he know Scar felt similarly. He took up moniker of Hero long after Xelqua disappeared, and he fell like he was really flubbing it. But when a new villain threatens Hermitopia, can Scar find the strength to trust himself? And can Grian finally accept the past as it was, and accept himself so they can move into a new future? Can he become the Hero Xelqua expected him to be? He had to. There was no other option.

The city of Hermitopia had been established many years ago, a utopia for those who could not fit into what society deemed “normal.” Before long it became a cultural center filled with feathers, tails, scales, and things that went bump in the night. These differences made it special, safe, and respect for all was able to sprout from such a loving world. No one species overtook the others, and everyone had a use within the community, from growing food to cooking, to delivering it, to organizing the land for the growers. Hermitopia was beautiful. 

Then came the reckoning. Some stories claim it happened instantly, while others describe the destruction as a plague, spreading from home to home. But no matter how it happened, the reckoning nearly destroyed this utopia. Any species that wasn’t human fell ill, and the next generation born bore these illnesses. Some were manageable, like Vex’s ability to phase through objects no longer being under their control, now completely randomly. But others were deadly. It was always known when a Creeper hybrid died now, because there would be nothing left around where they were for a 50 foot radius. 

All over the world, genetics were warped and played with, ending family lines and stopping new ones from forming. But through it all, Hemitopia persisted. 

----

But for today, the past was merely that, and Grian paid it no mind. Rain poured from the sky, hitting the roof of the bus shelter he stood under with booming pings. On all days for the bus to be running behind, this was truly one of the worst. 

Pulling his wings around himself, Grian tried to fight off the cold, frowning down the street. He knew that bringing a jacket to work was a good idea today, he’s even said it aloud to himself after watching the weather report. But of course, it was left behind, and now Grian had to suffer with what he did. He glanced down at his feathers, mentally lamenting about how long they were going to take to dry. The brown, scraggly down feathers clung close to the skin, sticking in an uncomfortable way, and showed just how small they were. 

Grian wasn’t thinking of the past at this moment, but it sure was affecting him. 

Finally, bright lights shone into the shelter, and Grian flashed a thankful grin at the driver as he got on, standing and gripping onto one of the support bars. Wiping his hand on his mostly-dry undershirt, he was able to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone, opening up a familiar text chain. 

Coal Mine: Where are you? 

Coal Mine: We did agree to meet at your place at 5:30, right? I’m not misremembering that? 

Grian fondly rolled his eyes. 

Pesky Bird: Yeah, the bus is just running late, I’ll be home in like 10 minutes. 

Coal Mine: Your neighbors are looking at me weird. Where is the spare key again? I looked under the mat but it wasn't there. 

Pesky Bird: On top of the door frame. I had to move it after Sheila’s dog got out and decimated the hallway. 

Coal Mine: I think Arthur’s quite cute. He should be able to destroy your mat any time. 

Pesky Bird: Get out of my home. 

Coal Mine: No.

Pesky Bird: Yes. Insult me all you want but leave my decorations out of this. 

Pesky Bird: I hate you. 

Coal Mine: Love you too, see you in ten. 

No one in the world could push Grian’s buttons quite like Jimmy could. Luckily, no one else was allowed to. It was natural at this point, the bickering and the teasing, formed from years at each other's throats, to needing each other more than anything. 

Grian sighed and pocketed his phone, trying not to think about why they needed each other, how it was just him and Jimmy now. Hopefully Jim had gotten a vanilla cake, the one with cheap strawberry filling and much too much sprinkles on top. Jimmy had mentioned he’d taken off work today, heading down to the south point of the city to Netty’s for a cake. Guilt swirled in Grian’s head about how he wished he’d gone with, just to make sure. 

The bus stopped outside of a very familiar looking building, and Grian hopped off, hurrying to get inside. Riding the elevator to the top floor, he stepped out to notice his welcome mat was skewed. Rolling his eyes, he corrected it and opened the door. 

His younger brother was inside, a cake box teetering precariously on the counter as he’d discarded it to play with Maui. 

“Hello Jimmy.” Grian said, flashing the other a smile as he stripped out of his wet sweater. “Weather is miserable today, isn’t it?” 

“Definitely not ideal. Look at what all the rain did to my wings. I literally just redid them.” Standing up, Jimmy spread out his wings, and Grian paused his trek to the bedroom. The brown feathers were brighter now, flashes of gold peeking through, shining in the lamplight. “I really liked the way they turned out.” 

“Well, I guess that’s something we can fix later. You want a towel?” Grian asked. 

“Yes please.” 

Opening the closet, Grian tossed Jimmy one before retreating into his room to change. The delay at the bus stop had left him completely soaked, and he had the creeping sensation that he appeared very wet-cat like. 

Grabbing a towel of his own, he stepped back out into the living room, where Jimmy was aggressively scrubbing at his wings. “Be gentle, you don’t want to damage them.”

“I know, I just hate feeling them wet.” Jimmy’s wings now were almost fully yellow-gold, the towel he held having become a murky brown. “Can you get the back of them?” 

Grian took the towel and got to work, easily drying off the rest of his wings and plucking a few twisted feathers here and there. “Done.” 

A silence fell over the brothers, the monotonous tasks finished, and the rain still poured outside. Carefully, Grian sat next to Jimmy closely, trying to be a strong, reliable presence but also feeling like his whole world was tiny. Jimmy, in turn, grabbed onto his brother’s hand tightly, showing they were both there for eachother, neither having to bear the load alone. 

“Netty, um,” Jimmy winced. “She gave me the cake at a discount when I went down there today. I thought that was nice of her.” 

“That’s- that’s really nice of her.” Grian agreed, then sighed. “Might as well do this now then. I don’t have any room in my fridge to fit the whole cake.” 

The cake really was beautiful, and fun, and everything Pearl had been. Even if Grian hated the taste of strawberries, he loved her, and could never justify any other flavor for today. She’d gotten the same cake every year since they were toddlers, insisting it had to be that way or the day wouldn’t be right. It was an abomination of sugar and creation, everything their sister had been. 

“27 today.” Jimmy pulled out a pack of candles from his bag. “You think she’d want us to sing? We didn’t last year.” 

“I’m not a great singer.” Grian joked, and lit the candle. “But it couldn’t hurt, right?” 

Neither could make it through the song before tears clogged their voices, and Jimmy blew out the candles just before they melted into the cake. He turned away after that, wiping his face and trying to catch his breath. All Grian could do was stare at it, trying to remember if the song they sung was Pearl’s favorite one. 

They ate the cake in silence, watching the rain pour outside the windows, remembering their sister in fond memories. The way she danced, and sung, and how easily designs seemed to come to her. Everything about Pearl was extraordinary. 

And so was her disappearance. 

When neither of the boys had heard from their sister in a few days, Grian had gone over to her apartment to look for her. What he found had haunted him ever since. Door unlocked, he had to immediately step around the overturned bookshelf. Pearl’s prized books and collectables scattered across the floor, something she would have never allowed. Her furniture was a mess too, a chair overturned, and rug crumpled as if something had been dragged over it. That was when he had called the police. 

She was never found, and a month later the officers had her brothers clear out her home. They knew what that meant. No matter how much they were told to hold out hope, or that the police were doing everything in their power, they knew what everyone thought.

That was almost two years ago, just after Pearl had turned 25. Jimmy was her age now. 

“Do you want help re-dying your wings? I still have the dye from the last time we did it.” Grian offered. He ignored the pang in his chest at the thankful look his brother gave. 

Moving to the bathroom, Grian pulled out a familiar looking box, a smiling avian on the front, her wings poorly photoshopped into a plain brown color. No avian would be that excited about brown wings. 

Once, Avians ruled the skies of Hermitopia, acting as messengers and delivery people, tying the world together. But nowadays, very few can fly. Most’s wings were too small, or their feathers refused to grow properly, staying a sickly shade of brown. They were grounded, wings no more than inconvenient decorations that reminded people of a time they never got to see. However, some Avians escaped the curse. 

Jimmy’s wings were a brilliant, blinding yellow, his feathers strong and smooth. Though they were a tad smaller than they should be, he was everything an Avian used to be. More importantly, he could fly. 

Grian moved to the front of his wings, touching up any places Jimmy had missed, trying to cover that blinding gold. He hated that he had to do that. 

For their talent, Avians were often targets of groups that wanted to “restore order to the city,” and those that could fly were incredibly valuable. No one knew what determined a person’s fate about things like this, why out of two brothers, similar in every way, only one would bear the curse. So, in order to keep Jimmy safe, they pretend it was both of them that bore it. 

Once done, Grian stepped back to take in his work. It was pretty good, no gleaming spots available. Jimmy continued to look at himself in the mirror with an unreadable expression upon his face, eyes dark. 

“I want to look through some of her stuff.” He said quietly. 

“What?” 

“I know we said we’d leave it, because Pearl would be pissed when she came back and found out we’ve been messing with her stuff. But…” Jimmy trailed off, trying not to smear the dye onto any of Grian’s walls. “Can we open some of the boxes? Please?”

Grian managed to drag a few of the boxes out of his storage room, the ones that had the photos, the books, everything non wearable that made Pearl, Pearl. Everywhere she went people immediately knew who they were dealing with. A sharp tongue and watchful eyes, all wrapped in a kind and bright mind.

“I didn’t know she made these.” Grian said, flipping through some rudimentary scrapbooks filled with pictures of their family throughout the years. 

“Yeah, she didn’t like people knowing.” Jimmy laughed, leaning over to point at a family portrait. “Apparently mom taught her when we were younger, that’s what the two of them would do when dad and us went fishing.”

“I do really like fishing.” Grian muttered, tracing over his sister’s handiwork. “It’s almost like a diary. Like, when she’s doing happier pictures, her work is looser, I can see more of her in it.” Flipping to the next page, he found the first photo without their father. Pearl’s work was sharp, and dark. 

Grian closed the book. 

“Hey G,” Jimmy said, smaller boxes spread out around him. “What was this? I remember it, but not well.”

Oh. 

“That’s… that’s some of mom’s old stuff. Pearl took most of it when she moved out, you and I didn’t have the extra room.” Reaching down, Grian picked up an old box, and opened it to find a whole bunch of old pictures. Taking a few out and flipping through them, Grian handed them off to his brother. “Here’s some of the two of them from when Pearl was a baby.” 

Jimmy flipped through them, and tears fell down his face. “Gods, the two of them are almost identical.” 

Grian nodded. He continued to go through some more of the photos, going further back in time. A photo flashed in front of his eyes, and he frowned, closing the box and tucking it behind his back. 

“Look, mom’s wing pattern is nearly the same too.” Jimmy traced the lines on their mother’s powerful wings, resembling those of an owl. Sighing, he placed the pictures on the ground and furiously rubbed at his face. “I can’t believe she didn’t show me these things.” 

“Was there ever really a good time?” Grian asked, shaking his head and trying to hold back tears. “She had to move to the other side of the city for a job that paid decently, and you remembered how messed up the train system was that year. I guess it just kind of got buried from there. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” Reaching down, Jimmy picked up a wooden box carved in hearts and swirls. Flipping it open, he found nothing. “Was this also Mom’s? I don’t remember Pearl having this when we were kids.” 

A pause, where Grian was trying to ignore the sense of anxiety rising in his chest. “Yeah. I sent that off with Pearl because I didn’t want to risk you or any of your friends breaking it. Dad gave her that chest years before we were born.” 

Maybe he had lied. But was it really lying if Jimmy had just assumed and he didn’t correct him? Grian had already gone through this box, pulling out anything he and Pearl had agreed Jimmy shouldn’t see. It made him feel dirty, the secrets. Pearl had promised she’d be the one to tell Jimmy, take the brunt of the anger and confusion. But now there was no Pearl. Just Grian, and the past he refused to think of. 

“Are you sleeping over tonight?” It was incredibly rude, Jimmy was in the middle of saying something, but Grian just had to know. “Because, it’s dark, and the rain could make the roads slippery, and I just–” 

“I can stay over.” Jimmy said. “I get it.” 

“Cool. Cool.” That grief was creeping up his neck again, promising to throw everything away. “I’ll go start dinner.” 

----

When Jimmy had finally fallen asleep, wrapped up in a massive amount of blankets on the couch, wings as brown as they should be, Grian remained awake. He laid in bed, trying to ignore the guilt that ate away at his chest. Finally, when he couldn’t handle it anymore, Grian rose and clicked on his lamp. He made his way across the room to his dresser, and kneeled onto the floor. Opening the drawer as if in prayer, the silent night was shattered by the squeaking of the wood. 

In the drawer now sat the box of pictures from earlier in the day, laid out next to the matching ones. As well, the box had found a new place, reunited with what should be in it. 

Carefully, Grian opened the box, and a faint pink glow filled the room. A dazzling microphone, handle carefully wrapped in pink silk laid inside. Carved into the handle were the familiar initials of their mother, and Grian looked away. 

He’ll tell Jimmy soon. He had to. There was no one else. 

----

Thwip!

A startled scream echoed throughout the docks, and the hero grinned, quickly descending the side of the shipping container he’d been hiding upon. Making his way over to the horned man pinned against a container with a swagger in his step, he flashed the other his million-dollar smile. 

“Well Hell-o my friend.” 

“You shot me!” The man screamed indignantly. 

“Well, yes. But that is because you, have been up to some shenanigans. Some evil shenanigans. I got a tip off, which I’ve passed onto people with some higher authority, that you’ve got some unregistered goods in this container. Chemicals, sheet metal, and some pretty heavily regulated compounds that the dock authority usually only allow in when they’re here. Which I’m sure you know, without them here, it’s illegal to be transporting regulated goods.”  Spinning the bow easily, Hot Guy cocked another arrow and pointed it at the man below him, smile gone. “So, why don’t you tell me exactly who you are working for?” 

The man in front of him seemed nervous, but kept his mouth shut. 

“Come onnnnnn,” Hot Guy was almost teasing him at this point, with no actual intention of shooting him. “If you just tell me now, I can vouch for you once the police show up. Possibly years off your sentence.” 

Dread filled the trapped man’s eyes as he realized there really was no way out of the situation he found himself in. Finally, he broke. “I don’t know.”

“Really?” Hot Guy deadpanned, glaring at the other through his visor.

“Truly man!” He held up his hands. “I just work for the shipping company. Usually I have paperwork that tells me what I’m shipping and who it’s going to, but my boss told me that I don’t get any of that this time.” 

“So your company will just ship anything without checking?” 

“Not… usually.” In the distance, police sirens got closer and closer. “All I know is that whoever wanted this stuff paid a lot so that we wouldn’t ask any questions. Like, my boss was bragging about being able to pay off his house and buy a new one. That type of money.” 

Hot Guy scoffed. “You sold your integrity for money? On illegal goods transport? Not even like, contraband. No, on sheet metal and industrial lubricant.” 

“Hey, I didn’t even want to be here man! My daughter had a dance rehearsal tonight, but this order was ‘too important!’ For my boss, that is. Listen, I’m just a grunt worker, no one important. Making money is hard for people like me.” The man huffed.

The police were closing in now. Scar frowned, and lowered his bow.“Come on man. Don’t talk like that! Everyone is important, just in their own way!”

A moment passed, and the man could just blink in confusion, still limply hanging by his shirt. “Thank you?” 

“You shouldn’t be feeling underappreciated.” He slid his arrow back into the sheath. “Why couldn’t it have been your boss doing this delivery? Why did it have to be a family man who just wants to support his daughter? Your boss shouldn’t be treating you this way.” Hot Guy’s voice was sincere, bleeding empathy and conviction.

It worked. 

“I’m sick of this. I’ve taken too many falls for that man. Sure, he’s the only one that wanted to employ me because my kind is ‘dangerous,’ but that doesn’t mean I have to stay.” A fire filled him as the police cars pulled up to the docks. “I’ll talk. But I want protection.” 

That… worked better than Scar expected. “We’ll see what happens.” The next moment, the police showed up behind him. “Well, best of luck to you.” 

The next few minutes passed by surprisingly easily, with the man willingly walking into custody, and Hot Guy just discussed some of the basic details with the head officer. Finally, he was able to slip away into the night, scaling the containers and disappearing into the night. 

“Did you get all that Cub?” Scar asked, clicking apart his bow and zipping up his suit to look just like a jacket. 

“I did, and I’m not liking what I heard. If even the drug runners don’t know who they’re transporting for, then there’s not a good chance we’ll figure it out.” Cub sighed on the other end of the earpiece. “Someone big, that’s what we’ve got. Either way, how about you get back to base? It’s cold, and you shouldn’t be putting too much stress on your body.” 

“Feeling good Cuberooni!” Scar joked, but as he said it, he felt his power falter, and he leaned heavily against his cane. “But I’m on my way.” 

“Stay safe.”

Scar rolled his eyes. “Always.”

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

[aphelion-alifer]

blog thoughts - nonhuman books

so I think I will start writing a book about therian/otherkin/alterhuman experiences and practices mixing with witchcraft or spiritual practices, because for me I think a lot of my experiences with being nonhuman can overlap with my spirituality and being a witch, so I think it would be nice to have a beginners guide to being a therian witch and how to incorporate your nonhuman self with your practices. this book is more geared towards the spiritual and psychological therian/otherkin/alterhuman experience rather than the physical ones (shocking I know), but it's going to take a friendly approach to phyiscal nonhumans, shapeshifters, etc. also, hear me out: I'm also planning to write a book regarding physical nonhumanity. it'll focus more on guides for shapeshifting rather than nonhuman history, but I'm still debating whether or not I want to include history too.

and I want your opinion as to what kinds of things I should include in these books! so please let me know what you think because I think it would be super important to have these resources out for the general nonhuman community (therians, physical nonhumans/mythicals, etc).

[harloqui]

any info/resources on avians/blogs run by avians you could direct me to?

Sure! Here are a few I know of: https://aminoapps.com/c/alationwings/info/ https://wingedones.webs.com/ https://wingedones.wixsite.com/winged-ones/blog I can't speak to how great or high-quality these resources will be (and I advise you to take any dietary recommendations, physical or other medical advice found on those sites with a large grain of salt), but hopefully this helped!

[mesetacadre]

Aviation in the USSR

A collection of excerpts from Anna Lousie Strong's The Soviets Expected It, compiled for @czerwonykasztelanic

[...] Or the guerrilla detachment which captured six German planes, destroyed five of them, and sent the sixth to the Red Army, piloted by an amateur air enthusiast, who was a tractor driver in ordinary life. Lt. Talalikhin’s initiative is already a Soviet aviator’s tradition. Exhausting his ammunition in a fight with three enemy planes, he rammed the tail of one enemy with his propeller, smashed the tail of another enemy plane with his wing tip, and then bailed out of his own plane safely. Moscow parks displayed the wreckage of the German planes, and other Soviet pilots quickly copied the tactics. An aviation technician, Konikov, won renown by attaching the fuselage of a plane he was repairing to the front platform of a military train whose locomotive had been bombed by the enemy; he thus pulled the most necessary parts of the train to safety.

pg. 14

The Soviet people glimpsed and felt victory. For the first time they began to feel that they were no longer “backward Russians.” They were beginning to challenge the world. With this went a proud sense of their unity as a nation. Cotton growers in Turkestan exulted, “We have conquered the Arctic,” though they themselves would never see the snow. Bearded peasants, who had never sat in an airplane, began to talk about “our conquest of the air.” Young Nina Kameneva expressed the mood of the country’s young people when she broke a world’s altitude record in parachute jumping and remarked on landing: “The sky of our country is the highest sky in the world.”

pg. 46

Moscow can make all the implements of war, including planes and motor trucks, inside the city. [...] Moscow’s sky is covered by an air defense that was the marvel of the London experts who visited it after the war began to make suggestions and found it far superior to London’s. Anti-aircraft shells make a thick blanket at four distinct levels to London’s one, and observation planes patrol the heavens night and day. Moscow’s four million people also offer a night-and-day defense.

pg. 51

Alma Ata, the capital of this area, has grown from a town of 60,000 to a proud young city of 260,000 in the ten years since the railroad reached it. Its life has leaped at once from the nomad epoch to the airplane. The railroad is too slow to tame the wastes of Kazakstan. From Alma Ata Airport the planes shoot forth, east, west, south, north, on new discoveries. [...] Kazakstan is only one of the energetic regions behind the Urals. South of it lie the lands of the Uzbeks and Tadjiks, where some of the largest textile mills of the U.S.S.R. work up the locally grown cotton and where automobile and airplane parts are produced by mass production in the historic city of Samarkand.

pg. 58

I have traveled many times on the Trans-Siberian. In the spring of 1935, I went from Vladivostok to Moscow with a stop-over in the Jewish autonomous territory whose capital is Birobidjan. The train was crowded with pioneering people in warm woolen clothes and padded leather jackets, engineers, Army men, developers of the Far East. [...] An army engineer who shared my table at dinner was celebrating his return by airplane from the northern wilderness by consuming a whole bottle of port and bragging about the Far Eastern pioneers.

pg. 59

According to Pierre Cot, the French Air Minister, who visited Moscow in 1933, the Soviet air arm was at least equal to the best in Europe in numbers, technical equipment, and, above all, in the productive capacity of the aviation industry.‡ Thus, by the end of 1932, which ended the first Five Year Plan, the Soviet Union had reached the level of Western Europe in armaments – a fairly modest level judged by standards of later years.

pg. 65

Other official indications of the extent of the Red Army’s mechanization come from Voroshilov’s report in 1934 [...]. Five years later [...]. He claimed that the “bomb salvo” of the Soviet air force (the number of bombs that can be dropped by all planes at once) had tripled in five years and had reached more than 6,000 tons.

pg. 66

Soviet airplane pilots also hold many world records, both in altitude and long-distance flights. Their conquest of the Arctic and its difficult weather has accustomed them to the severest conditions. Americans well remember the Soviet pilots who twice made world records by flying from Moscow to America. These were individual exploits, but the development of Arctic aviation on which they were based was the work of large numbers of pilots and implies a whole air tradition

pg. 67

Parachute jumping has become a national sport in the Soviet Union. Soviet people are probably the most air-minded people in the world. Training for air-mindedness begins in the kindergarten. Small tots play the “butterfly game” and jump around with large butterflies pinned on their hair, gaining the idea that flying is fun and a natural activity. Children in their teens make jumps from “parachute towers” which are far rougher and more realistic than the parachute tower in the New York World’s Fair, which was copied from them. The sport is popular not only in the cities but on the farms. Several years ago a Ukrainian farmer told me of his trip to the nearby city with a group of farm children, all of whom immediately formed in line in the recreation park to go up in a tall tower and jump off under a parachute. “I thought it very terrifying,” he said, “and wondered why the park authorities allowed it. Then I saw that my own thirteen-year-old daughter was at the head of the line. These children of today aren’t afraid of anything.” At an older age, Soviet young people jump from airplanes, learn to operate gliders, or even become amateur pilots in their spare time. Every large factory, government department, and many of the larger collective farms have “aviation clubs,” which are given free instruction by the government. Probably a million people in the Soviet Union have made actual jumps from parachutes. It is not surprising that the Red Army was the first to use parachute troops in active service several years before the Germans adopted them. In 1931 a small detachment of parachutists surrounded and cleaned up a bandit gang in Central Asia. The making of airplane models by young people is taken seriously in the U.S.S.R. In 1937 over a million school children were spending after-school hours in aviation model stations. At a later stage, young people of talent create real airplanes and demonstrate them at Tushino aviation exhibitions. Owing to the wide interest in aviation and the public ownership of factories, a bright Soviet youth who invents a new type of airplane may get it constructed by his factory sports club and show it off. At one of the aviation festivals I attended, I saw a score of different amateur planes, including every possible shape of flying object – short, stubby ones, long thin ones, others shaped like different kinds of insects. They added greatly to the gaiety of the occasion. Whether or not they produced any really valuable new invention, they at least encouraged the inventiveness of their makers.

pg. 72

In the past two years, especially, all this training has been given a very realistic turn. [...] Only a month before the Germans attacked the Soviet borders, 7,000 Moscow citizens practiced a special drill in repulsing parachute troops over the week end. The large numbers of such trained citizenry, both among recruits entering the Red Army and among the older citizens assisting it, greatly add to the Soviet Union’s total defense.

pg. 73

[galazy-101]

Mud Wings huh, my my. So be it.

Whelp, Mud Wing won the poll, so now I give you guys my Mud Wings up for debate on who of which I draw.

I have Seven Mud Wings oc's to choose from on this poll, as that's all I the Mud's I own. But first, how about I show who is on the poll. Might as well share a snip bit of info on them too.

First up, Mintchocolate the Mud Wing. He is a somewhat anxiety filled dragon, and is always looking around his surroundings as he is scared of the unknown and unpredictable. He is very cautious at what he does and doesn't like going out too much, he likes hanging out with his friends and prefers to be around other dragons at all times as he hates being alone.

Fun fact, Mint Chocolate is an actual type of Mint Vine that grows in more damp shadowy areas, you can actually grow Mint chocolate leaves, I grow some of my own actually.

Second up, Mink the Mud Wing, she is a very well trained medicine maker and grower. She knows what to mix and put together for specific injuries. She is cautious at what she does, but is a true sweetheart by nature, she is calm and well collected. She is slightly shy when doing big hangouts with her friends and family, but always seems to have a good time.

Third up is Log, the Mud Wing, she is a fashion stylist model and is always trying to look her best, she only always uses the best mud for her soaking times. She can get pretty nasty, pretty quickly, she does have good intentions but can easily get distracted by her looks.

Forth up is Moss, the Mud Wing. She is a very kind, and patient soul, she is very coy when it comes down to doing things outside her comfort zone. She usually keeps to herself and does things on her own time.

Fith, Smudge the Mud Wing. He is a complete whimp when doing anything at all, he trys his best but always seems to mess up in the long run. He is a very pessimistic guy and is always worried about anything and everything.

Sixth, Sunstone the Mud Wing. He is a peaceful, joyful and very active one, he loves to hangout in the sun light and play. He is very optimistic and hopeful dragon by nature.

Seventh and last of all, Queen Muskrat of the Mud Wings. She is a very patient and stern soul, she understands her position as Queen. She is well taught and very sturdy when dealing with things. She can be difficult to work with tho as it's hard to convince her if she believes in a different idea or plan.

[aestherians]

You could make an iceberg meme out of the tumblr kin community. We have so much culture and history on here. Aesthetic boards, eggkin, OOT vs AKC, the crunchy leaf, wing-growers, AWTOK, oddnose/buttereggs, etc etc