#Boiled Buzzards

[mathpumamusic]

1-3-2024

[Periphery] "Periphery III: Select Difficulty" : Contains "Marigold" and "Absolomb". [Boiled Buzzards] "Eat at Joe's" : Quality Picking! [Wacław Zimpel] "In The Cell of Dreams" : Atmospheric and imaginative, the album moves slow, but is full of interesting texture. [zabutom] "New Beginnings" : Coming back from "Resolution," it's almost strange to hear zabutom play in a regular chiptune style again. [T.R.A.M.] "Lingua Franca" : Unlike many of the other weird prog albums I've poked at in the past few weeks, "Lingua Franca" is more than willing to have an entire album of exactly what the opener would imply. [Three Days Grace] "One-X" : This has the same effect on me as one of those werewolf paintings, in that I love it completely earnestly. [Tobor Experiment] "Available Forms" : Here's an album that says, "I'm shopping at the mall, and the year is 3200."

[vanillesuiker]

Random Weasley headcanons because today was the first day of school so obviously I've had much time to think about things that aren't school!

Arthur Weasley loves birds. You can't convince me otherwise and that's mostly because I love birds but shush. He seems like a bird watcher.

He has tried to get the kids into it, but they just don't get it. Not even Percy can be convinced that birds aren't actually boring, they're so interesting!!

He brags that he does it the "muggle" way but he really doesn't. He has magical binoculars that auto focus on a bird or some shit. If he has the time he takes a broom and flies out to a good bird spotting place. He's sitting in the bushes with about sixty silencing and concealing charms up just to look at a common buzzard (AND I WOULD DO THE SAME)

Sorry I just really love birds. I can't promise this was the last bird thing I have a fic planned. Anyway!

Percy is always one of the first to be awake in the morning. (Excluding Arthur who is... at work)

He goes downstairs, gets some coffee or tea (do wizards have coffee???) and stares out of a window for a bit.

He's a window guy.

On the other side of the spectrum you have Ron. Who wakes up last and has to be woken up most of the time.

I'm not hating on Ron I swear, I love him.

Molly does that thing that all mothers do where she yells someone's name from downstairs. And then the child responds. And she doesn't.

Charlie Weasley can make a mean fried egg.

That's it that's the headcanon. He's the eggman.

Speaking of eggs. If there's boiled eggs, Fred takes the egg white while George takes the yolk. This has been their arrangement since they could communicate that they didn't want THAT part of the egg, only the other.

That's totally based on @bastaardsuiker and me though. I <3 projecting.

Whenever Ginny leaves one of her brother’s rooms, she turns the light on. Like the big light that no one uses unless they've lost something. I'm going to pretend that's possible without electricity.

Wait how do underage wizard's turn lights on? They can't use magic and they don't have electricity (which is fucking stupid but okay)

Do they have magic circuits?

They have magic circuits now I've decided that.

Sorry another bird headcanon.

If there's a bird sitting in the window or something, Arthur will shush everyone. And everyone must listen. Because guys there's a coal tit on the window!

Yes that's an actual bird name. Why are English bird names so weird? Wdym woodCOCK? Coal TIT? Blue footed BOOBY?

Fred and George use bird names to get away with saying bad words.

They learned that from Bill.

Well. That's kinda all I have. It's mostly birds, I'm not sorry. This is my blog and I decide how much bird content there is <3

[beastsovrevelation]

I don't know whether I'll ever actually write Yellowjackets fanfiction (I might have to though), so here's an idea I had... It's weird.

Note 1.: This isn't an actual fic, just a plot of a longfic I've dreamed up, along with some musings.

Note 2.: At the point of posting this, I've seen 3.08, not beyond, so anything beyond doesn't matter.

Note 3.: Yes, I'm quite aware certain details aren't from actual Greek mythology, I'm a damn Classical student, and I'm taking all the creative license I fancy.

-♡-

Basically, when Jackie has sex with Travis, the resident deity possesses him, to impregnate her. The deity is in fact Artemis, so... Of course a Greek goddess would pull something like that, you know how Greek gods are.

The frenzied girls bust into the attic during the process, and Lottie sees Artemis' beast form on top of Jackie. The beast form is an all white peryton by the way, with silver antlers and hooves (yes, antlers, even though she's female), the wings of a buzzard, the tongue of a serpent, and the teeth of a dog.

Jackie and Shauna have their fallout, but Lottie forbids Jackie from leaving the cabin, literally bodyblocking the door. Following Lottie's lead, everyone starts protecting and worshipping Jackie, since in their eyes, she's now a Mary-like figure. They give her the warmest clothes, the most comfortable bed, and the most food. She resists, she's still depressed, and creeped out, but the others don't listen, they objectify her as much as they venerate her. Shauna she stays away from the newfound cult, and the others are irate, but Jackie orders them to leave her be. Jackie's made the official leader, except everyone still mostly obeys Lottie.

So, Jackie and Shauna are pregnant at the same time. There's a gaping rift between them of course, they don't speak to each other. Like Nat, Jackie's frustrated with Lottie for giving Travis false hope about Javi being alive. Deep down, she knows "the Wilderness" is real, and that she's pregnant by "it", yet she refuses to accept it. She grows rather close to Nat, after all, Nat still treats her like a normal person. Jackie's denial is shattered when Artemis visits her in a dream - instead, it's replaced by (very understandable) anger, at the goddess, and about the pregnancy. Artemis keeps reaching out to her via dreams and visions, which she pointedly ignores. She only shares what's going on with Nat, who remains skeptical, but is very supportive. Lottie, who knows about Artemis' efforts despite Jackie keeping away from her, encourages her to embrace "the Wilderness", which causes her to snap. Her rejection of Lottie wavers when sleepwalking Tai locates Javi, and she reluctantly begins attending the meditation meetings, telling herself it's not wise to remain out of touch, though of course, her distrust persists.

When Shauna goes into labor, Jackie prays to Artemis out of despair, promising to do whatever she wants, if she saves Shauna. Artemis grants her wish, however, the baby boy dies. Later, after Jackie retreats outside for a breath, Artemis appears to her. Jackie is furious at her about the baby's death, but so she has to keep her end of the deal, since she did ask for Shauna's survival only. Artemis tells Jackie the baby was never meant to live, and the sacrifice will give their child strength, but instead of comforting her, it does the opposite. Jackie stays away from Shauna, and the chasm between them only grows wider, due to the weight of what Jackie knows, and Shauna's boiling resentment. When Shauna lashes out, Lottie steps in, fearing Shauna may hurt Jackie. Lottie's sacrifice makes Jackie feel extreme guilt, so she cares for Lottie's injuries. In fear of losing the prophet, the others decide on the draw; Artemis warns Jackie not to stop them - Lottie's injuries are too dire for her death to be prevented, her soul may only be replaced by another. When Nat draws the Queen of Hearts, Jackie pleads Artemis to pick someone else. The goddess complies, fond enough of her anointed champion, and causes Javi to perish during the hunt for Nat. Jackie is heartbroken about Javi's death, yet relieved it's him instead of Nat. When Lottie finds out about the hunt and is upset, Jackie informs her there was no other choice, as the group needs her. At last strong enough to rise from her sickbed, Lottie insists she's not the one to rely on anymore - everyone must heed Jackie. To Jackie's dismay, everyone complies this time. Of course, unbeknownst to the group, her authority will only succeed to a point, for it's outmatched by the influence of "the Wilderness".

The fire happens. Artemis asks Persephone for help (the group won't survive in winter without shelter; space in the caves is too tight for that many people, besides, it's not time for Ben to die yet). Persephone ushers in spring, but later appears to Jackie, warning her it won't last forever, and that Artemis craves blood. Jackie asks her about the souls of those who died, and Persephone informs her the mountains does not let go of those they claims. Jackie at last settles into her role as leader, with Nat as her right hand, both of them trying to make the small community prosper to the best of their abilities. Being pregnant slowly grows on Jackie, and she realizes she loves the baby; Shauna can tell, and it infuriates her, since that's exactly what she experienced, except her baby died. Lottie withdraws, no longer feeling a connection to divinity. She desperately looks for a new oracle, at first thinking it's Travis, who insists it's Akilah instead. Jackie and Nat are aware Ben's alive, but keep the knowledge under wraps, until Shauna and Mari's conflict puts an end to the secret. Everyone insists on hunting Ben down. Jackie tries to dissuade them, but fails, as while she believes Ben's harmless, and had nothing to do with the fire, neither she nor Nat can prove it; divinity is of no help, and Lottie, while she stays behind with Jackie and Travis, admits she doesn't know what's right. After Ben's brought back, Akilah informs Jackie and Lottie of a vision she, Van and Shauna had in the caves.

Jackie and Nat insist on a trial for Ben, at the end of which Shauna strong-arms everyone to voting him guilty, largely to spite Jackie. The group decides on execution via firing squad. Jackie employs Akilah, Lottie and Travis to go back to the caves, where Akilah has a vision about Ben being a bridge. Ben is spared, but after he's shut back in the animal coop, Shauna and Melissa sneak in, to cut his Achilles tendon. When the group confronts them, Shauna and Melissa claim it's so Ben doesn't run away. Jackie is angry, but can't bring herself to punish Shauna, instead warning her that if she goes rogue again, she'll face severe consequences. Ben remains in the coop for weeks, begging for death, and going on a hunger strike; in the end, Nat kills him out of mercy. The group, led by Shauna, is furious - thinking on her feet, Lottie claims it's the will of "the Wilderness". Jackie joins in, insisting they will honour "the Wilderness", and that Natalie will prepare the feast as a punishment. The decision appeases the group, and it's up to Shauna to teach Nat how to properly butcher a body. Meanwhile, Lottie wanders back to the caves, begging "the Wilderness" to speak to her. Jackie begins to feel cramps, but decides to ignore them. During the feast, Artemis influences Lottie's vulnerable and desperate psyche, prompting her to start a feral rave, which catches the attention of the researchers. Still possessed, Lottie kills Edwin with an axe; Hannah and Kodi flee, most of the group at their heels. Only Mari, Gen, injured Melissa, and Lottie stay behind - Jackie's helpless to stop anyone, as she goes into labour. Gen cares for Melissa, while Mari takes Jackie to her shelter, terrified, but aware she needs help; Lottie remains whispering to Edwin's corpse. Artemis appears, and with her (and shellshocked Mari) as a midwife, Jackie delivers a baby girl, whom she and Artemis name Aradia. The sweet moment of Jackie holding her daughter for the first time is interrupted by the others bringing Hannah back to the camp. Jackie begs Artemis to let everyone go home, but she claims they now belong to the wilderness, and vanishes. Misty helps the group track down Akilah, Travis and Kodi, via the trail of clues Akilah had left, after Travis reveals to her he had made up the vision of her being the chosen oracle.

Everyone's excited to go home, but Artemis' words weigh heavy on Jackie. Akilah has a vision of dead animals in the coop, which only convinces Jackie and Lottie "the Wilderness" demand they stay. When the group is about to leave, Jackie insists they can't, supported by Lottie. Jackie and Nat fight, which causes a schism in the group, Akilah, Mari, Shauna (to whom, Artemis had sent a vision of a dull future), and Taissa (influenced by her connection to the wilderness, and unwilling to give up the freedom she had experienced within it) deciding to stay behind. When the rest of the group attempts to leave, a giant white moose charges at them out of nowhere, injuring Kodi - Nat and Travis instinctively shoot at it, which does little damage (but a bolt from the crossbow does make the animal wail in pain). The group is forced to turn back, and while Misty tries to nurse Kodi, he dies from his injuries (at one point, the possibility of a draw is suggested, but Jackie points out they'll be asking the same god they wish to abandon for help). With no more hope of rescue, everyone settles back into life in the wilderness. Hannah, of course, is horrified when Kodi is butchered, and Lottie warns her she'll soon understand (they dig Edwin back up, but his flesh is already rotting, so they only keep the bones for broth). Lottie isn't wrong, as animals seem to have vanished from the forest around them, while the ones in the coop don't last for long. When winter comes, the group is forced to resort back to the draw, growing more sadistic and eager with each hunt. It breaks Jackie's heart, especially when Mari, Akilah and Hannah (with whom she bonded, because Hannah was naturally drawn to a confused teenage mother and her baby) are chosen, yet she wears the crown of antlers, and a necklace of teeth, and lets the others bring the spoils to her feet, despite her burning guilt (she's excluded, as she's deemed the bride of "the Wilderness", her baby it's avatar) - she has to think of her daughter's survival after all, whom she cradles under her white cloak. At one point, Shauna is determined to kill Jackie and Aradia, but a pack of white wolves confronts her, tearing her to shreds - while it proves a hallucination, it convinces her to back off.

One night, Jackie has a dream of a rescue team approaching. She understands it's a premonition, and begs Artemis to let the survivors go. Artemis agrees, if Jackie and their daughter join her on Olympus (a divine realm, not the mountain in Greece). When Jackie sneaks out with Aradia, Nat and Lottie hear her, and follow her. Jackie tells Nat that a rescue team is coming. When Nat asks Jackie what about her, Artemis appears in her beast form, to take Jackie and the baby away (back in civilization, at least for a while, both Nat and Lottie will convince themselves it was a mirage, and that Jackie ran off into the woods, bringing her baby along).

I'm not sure what might prompt Artemis to go and terrorize the survivors 25 years later, maybe she's simply bored. Jackie has lived in Artemis' domain ever since. Upon arrival, she was elated to discover Mari, Akilah and Hannah already there - while Artemis is horrible, she's not heartless, and understood her bride would be happy to see her friends (their souls belong to the mountains, but the mountains are Artemis' hunting grounds). Between the survivors' teen timeline and adult timeline, Jackie has become good friends with Persephone; no, they haven't slept together, Persephone and Hades are monogamous, but Jackie probably has slept with Aphrodite. Also yes, in the adult timeline, Artemis actually does reject Travis, since he stopped believing in her, he wounded her that one time, and he's male.

I feel like, Aradia and Callie should meet in the survivors' adult timeline. Maybe, even become romantically involved... Aradia's older, yes, and the consort of Apollo (her uncle indeed, it's nothing strange in Greek mythology), but they probably have an open marriage, not to mention, whatever goes on between her and Callie, would be ten times more healthy than what happens between Aradia's she-father and her mother. Because, in the end, this story is about a teenage girl abused, and used by a cruel, bloodthirsty deity, a teenager girl who sacrifices herself in desperation to ease the fate of others. She ends up among the immortal, yes, but her heart still hurts, even in eternal spring. Her daughter and her friends are the only balm to it (I suppose Mari, Akilah and Hannah are something like her handmaidens).

Artemis' faceclaim is Anya Taylor Joy, Aradia's is Grace Van Dien. Both of their hair is white like the Moon.

[cookinguptales]

just saw someone online talking about don hertzfeldt's "rejected" like it was just some "lol so random" youtube video from the early 2000s and like... yeah, it was funny! and I'm sure the randomness and memeability were a lot of what made it go viral. but I'm sad that it's been remembered that way.

like, that short film was about creativity and capitalism and how imagination is stifled and destroyed when it's forced into the box of "marketability", leading to mental anguish on the part of the artist. it's a message that's only become more and more poignant over the years as all art has slowly been reduced to "content" on the internet, particularly youtube, and I still rewatch it regularly.

yes, the fake ads in it were silly and random and violent and weird, but that's because he was purposefully trying to create the least marketable art possible. it has sex and violence and grotesque imagery all wrapped up in a cutesy art style, and it's the exact opposite of the glossy animation you get in marketing. moreover, the point was that the animations became more and more disjointed and "random" and awful as they were forced to exist in a corporate vacuum devoid of any real meaning. that's why the very world they were living in fell apart in the end.

the whole thing! was a very blatant commentary on the damage that commercialization does to art!

and, in a bout of tragic but entirely predictable irony, the art style that he used for "rejected" was immediately stolen, made more palatable for mass consumption, and used for pop tart commercials. it's not so much the death of the author as it is greedy companies shanking the author and then looting their corpse, y'know? it's completely cleaving any marketability from the shambling corpse of their art and leaving the rest for the buzzards.

it's also odd that they listed the short as being something you'd only know about if you hang out on the weird part of the internet because like... y'all know that short was nominated for an oscar, right? that seems about as mainstream as recognition for animated shorts can get. I have literally gone to showings of don hertzfeldt films at major film festivals. he's well known in the animation field.

idk man! I don't have anything against the lol random style of humor from the early days of youtube (I miss it, actually) but to just boil a painfully earnest short film about the devaluing of any creativity that is not palatable to the mass market and the way that artists' souls are slowly killed as they create art solely for corporate interests down to the gifs and memes that emerged from it has me like

man, media literacy really is getting bad these days.

[marshmallowprotection]

Most outlaws wouldn't put much thought into their get-away, often opting for whatever could benefit them the most in the heat of the moment, but Unknown wasn't like that. He didn't want to leave fate to chance. It was too risky to go in blind, not doing any research for the heist ahead of time because one wrong swoop would have the authorities on his tail faster than they could holler for backup from a partner.

He didn't intend on getting caught any time soon and had those other criminals been smart enough to think twice about it, they'd have done the same. Even his brother knew better than to leave a game of chance on the board. It was better to know where to run, when to flee, and where to hide until the coast cleared of anyone willing to turn them in for a few measly coins.

That kind of forward thinking had saved his skin more times than he could count by this point in his life.

Fortunately, he had something that most crooks couldn't count on to help them out. He had the trust of his loyal horse to help him escape in the knick of time—every time. Begonia had been by his side since he and his brother helped a frock of horses escape from a dangerous situation. If they wouldn't have smashed the locks on the barn, those horses would've known nothing but cruelty on the trails.

Out of all those horses who dashed to freedom, two of them stayed behind as a show of respect to them. Saeran wanted them to run to freedom, but no matter how much he beckoned them to leave, they wouldn't stray. He and Saeyoung had no choice but to take them in, and he named his horse after a flower he once saw in V's old books. Begonia, an element of surprise, danger, and gratitude.

She was a gentle horse, all things considered, and he hoped to one day bring her to a field of grass as far as the eye could see so she'd have all the time in the world to graze and enjoy herself. She'd done her part to keep him safe, gnawing at his sleeve when it was time to make a break for it, whining at anyone who dared to look at him the wrong way, and galloping faster than a bullet when they needed her quick exit out of town.

He didn't have to worry about a messy get-away when she was with him. He was gone just as soon as he went in thanks to Begonia. She wanted nothing more than to look after him as he did for her to begin with. She was there for him when he didn't have another soul to turn to. Out on the range, it was just him and Begonia most of the time. It was easy to fall into a steady pattern with her, whistling a song under his breath as her footsteps dampened the sounds of buzzards.

He couldn't call many people his friends, but Begonia? She was more than his horse, his companion and partner in crime, she was a friend and deserved the best of the best. That's why he didn't turn down the box of fresh vegetables you sent with him on his way outta town. You meant for him to use those in a stew, but he intended to use them for more than just that.

As his dinner pot boiled, he sectioned out a chunk of the carrots for Begonia. It wasn't easy to carry that much food on the trails so the food you offered him had to be cooked as soon as possible... unless he wanted to make friends with the wildlife. He didn't intend to make a friend of the wild dogs, much less the coyotes, but you didn't know that. You always had someone with you to fend off wild animals if the worst came to light.

Unknown didn't.

All he had was Begonia and his guns. He didn't want to risk putting her in danger by carrying around too much food, either. It was better to do what he could every day than to worry about handling food on the trail. Besides... there was more to it than that. As long as he had food to eat, he didn't have to worry about a damn thing. He knew all the best spots to find food if he needed something. His energy levels would never diminish.

He didn't have to live the way he did when he was a little boy... not anyone. If he wanted food, he could find it, and nobody could order him to starve! It was the same for Begonia. She didn't have to work her ass off to earn her keep. She deserved to graze and eat as much as she wanted. They belonged to no man, and they were as free as a gentle breeze.

He couldn't stay healthy like he promised you if he didn't do the same for his horse. He knew just how to do enough for himself, after all. As long as he knew what would fill his guts, he knew what could be left out of the pot to go to her hungry cause.

"Cereus didn't half'ta go this far, I'd'a had a bellyache if I ate all o' this by myself," he grumbled. The repetition motion of the blade kept him busy, at least.

A faint whinny caught his attention just as he went to add the final batch of veggies to the pot.

It wasn't that odd for Begonia to sit with him when he took refuge in a cave, but tonight felt different than other nights. She'd crawled deep into the cave with him to avoid sleeping outside, likely because... she saw something in the distance she wanted no part of, and he wasn't one to tell her no when she did something like that. He didn't have it in him to scold her for something like that.

If something felt wrong with her comfort, then she knew better than to wait around in the dark for something to get her first.

If something found her—it wouldn't take long before it found him.

But, if he didn't know any better, he could've sworn she was inching closer and closer to him. He turned his head to the side and noticed she was only a few steps away from him now. He sighed at her quiet antics and patted the spot next to him. "Come on, girl. If y'ain't feelin' comfortable then y'might as well enjoy the fire."

Begonia took that as a good sign. She worked her way next to him but instead of resting her head on the ground, she tucked her head into his lap and bristled. He stared at her and she stared at him with her big, pleading eyes. If he wouldn't have known she was a horse... he would've guessed that she was trying to be like one of those cats that frequented the church his brother made donations to.

None of those cats liked his brother, much to his disappointment, but... they liked him and Begonia plenty. Unknown figured it was because they didn't get in their way. He didn't like to be crowded around by some fool, either!

He stroked the back of her head. "I don't mind yer' head on my lap, Beg. But m'afraid y'can't crawl on my lap like them cats do, okay? It ain't nothing when it's yer' head 'cause yer' head don't wear nothing to me, but the rest of ya' could crush my legs. Yer' a big girl, y'know that."

She made a noise that sounded akin to a huff. As if I would crush my Papa, he could practically hear her say. You used to sleep with your head on my side all the time!

"Don't make that ol' pouty face," he whispered as her eye brightened. "Y'kept me feelin' safe n' sound when I slept. So, I reckon... I'll do the same for you if y'ain't hungry yet. Go on, take a rest, girl. Sorry y'ain't the right size to sleep like them cats... but I hope this is the next best thing."

Begonia settled in and closed her eyes as he continued to work on his dinner. He didn't mind her attention. If she didn't feel good, she would let him know, and this out of anything else let him know that she only felt safe by his side. He could say she was among the few that did the same for him, so giving up his lap for the night wasn't a problem. She was a good horse, and she deserved to feel safe, too.

I'll have ta' tell Cereus that yer' such a spoiled girl, though... guess that's my fault as yer' Papa. I just can't stand seein' ya sad.

[sciatu]

Per quelle leggi siciliane non scritte per cui se hai una goccia di sangue eguale ad una singola goccia di sangue che qualchedun altro ha nel suo sangue, allora siete parenti stretti, io e Natale ci salutiamo chiamandoci “cugini��. In fondo il padre del suo bisnonno era fratello del padre della mia mitica bisnonna “Razia”, quella che componeva poesia senza saper scrivere. Per cui, ogni volta che ci incontriamo ci fermiamo a parlarci anche se io so poco e nulla della sua storia e lui ignora la mia. Eppure io invidio mio cugino Natale, più di mio cugino Mark che è stato top gun nei Marines o di mio cugino Peter che ha una Rock Band o di mia cugina Gilda che guida per ore tra i Nebrodi per visitare vecchiette immortali e neonati obesi. Natale infatti è il guardiano di uno dei più grandi DOC siciliani. È lui che applica il protocollo DOC, levando i grappoli in più per pianta, eliminando le erbacce in modo Bio, osservando il cielo di luglio per vedere se le piogge possono dare sollievo al fuoco estivo, è lui che passa tra i filari innevati a gennaio, o che invoca la pioggia d’aprile per dare forza ai grappoli. È lui che difende i filari dalla grandine di marzo e dalle ciaule affamate ad agosto, lui osserva alto nel cielo le poiane girare nel vento che viene dal mare a dare gusto e intensità agli acini. Lui pota pianta dopo pianta tutte le vigne della Scuola Agraria che produce il vino, ascolta il bollire del mosto e giudica il vino a San Martino nelle vecchie volte dell’antico convento che ospita la Scuola, decidendo con l’enologo se la qualità, l’intensità, la forza del vino appena nato rispettano la fatica spesa a crearlo. Giudica, valuta, considera, poi associa il gusto alle piogge, al vento, al sole per poter scoprirne il segreto e creare qualcosa ancora di migliore vicino a quella perfezione che la sua pelle bruciata dal sole e i suoi occhi pieni di verde e d’azzurro, pretendono.

For those unwritten Sicilian laws that say: if you have a drop of blood equal to a single drop of blood that someone else has in their blood, then you are close relatives, Natale and I greet each other by calling each other “cousins”. After all, her great-grandfather's father was the brother of the father of my legendary great-grandmother "Razia", ​​the one who composed poetry without knowing how to write. So, every time we meet we stop to talk to each other even though I know little or nothing about his story and he ignores mine. Yet I envy my cousin Natale, more than my cousin Mark who was a top gun in the Marines or my cousin Peter who has a Rock Band or my cousin Gilda who drives for hours among the Nebrodi to visit immortal old ladies and obese newborns. In fact, Natale is the guardian of one of the greatest Sicilian DOCs. It is he who applies the DOC protocol, removing the extra bunches per plant, eliminating weeds in an organic way, observing the July sky to see if the rains can give relief to the summer fire, he is the one who passes through the snow-covered rows in January , or who calls for April rain to give strength to the grapes. It is he who defends the rows from the hail in March and from the hungry ciaulas in August, he watches high in the sky the buzzards spinning in the wind that comes from the sea to give flavor and intensity to the grapes. He prunes plant after plant all the vineyards of the Agricultural School that produces the wine, listens to the boiling of the must and judges the wine at San Martino in the old vaults of the ancient convent that houses the School, deciding with the oenologist whether the quality, the intensity, the strength of the newborn wine respect the effort spent in creating it. Judge, evaluate, consider, then associate the taste with the rain, the wind, the sun in order to discover the secret and create something even better close to that perfection that his skin burned by the sun and his eyes full of green and blue , they claim.

[sergeantsporks]

In witch switch how do Philip’s witch friends (primarily Alador and kikimora) react to the wittebane weirdness (Philip being a strange being) initially and then after a while of getting use to it

Because I feel like making a giant murder board of trying to find out Evelyn’s “true” motivation and her connection to Ada and Luzura as a whole is not the most buzzard thing they’ve seen him do

“I once saw him eating bugs, when I asked him why he said it’s for potion research.”

Well, the thing about Witch Switch Phillip is that he's CHRONICALLY trying to fit in. They don't clock any Wittebane Weirdness (tm) initially because he hides it under twelve layers of I Am A Normal Hexside Student, I Promise, Come Closer. A good chunk of his character development is unmasking and letting himself be himself around his friends, even as that "himself" changes. And, ironically, he actually fits in better on the Isles when he embraces his weirdness and isn't trying to pretend to be "normal." Kiki (and Evelyn, obviously, but she doesn't count) is probably the only one who knows how "weird" he really is close to the beginning, and tbh, he's not weird enough to her. She's weirder. Doesn't surprise/bother her at all.

Anyway, as for his weirdness, they've already seen him go overboard on school research projects and jump DEEP down the rabbit hole of Boiling Isles Lore, so the conspiracy board definitely isn't surprising. And Alador isn't any less weird than Phillip, so Darius and Odalia are just like "yeah, some old same old. There's two of them now. Oh, look, they released a monster that fears no titan on the isles. Unsurprising."

[silverofkitty]

Day 7 of villians: Sparrowfeather! She was first featured on my Light Of Mist PMV on YouTube in the end, and I wanted to make an official reference sheet for her. She is supposed to be a brown tabby, but I found that so boring, so with the power of background characters I decided to make her a dark brown cat with flowers. My favorite part is the stripes on her eyes.

Sparrowfeather is one of the rare female villains we get, and I wish she was delved into more besides a background DF character. I've seen people have her personality be wild and crazy like Sleekwhisker, which I love, so I decided to add onto this and give her own story. She doesn't have a cannoncial clan, but she was giving off WindClan vibes to me, and I wanted to delve into the concept of moor runners vs tunnlers. I feel like that was a good was to cause conflict but it only happened once cannoncially. Would love to make more stories on this premise! Story under the cut:

Sparrowkit is born in WindClan before Tallstar's rule. She is best friends with Sootkit (tom) until they become apprentices. Sootpaw becomes a tunneler and Sparrowpaw a moor runner. Sootpaw eventually becomes closer to a she-cat named Mintpaw, which makes Sparrowpaw jealous. When they are all warriors, Sootear and Mintsnow become mates. Sparrowfeather had developed an unhealthy crush on Sootear, but rarely talked to him due to their different duties.

Eventually Sootear and Mintsnow have 3 she-cats: Palekit (yes Tallstar's mom), Whitekit and Lavendarkit, which makes Sparrowfeather's jealousy boil over. She kidnapps the 3 kits to hide them outside of the camp, just to make Sootear focus on something else than his family. Her reckless thinking of nothing going wrong backfires as a buzzard swoops down to snatch the kits. Realizing her mistake too late, she is able to save Palekit but not without giving her tramua over the whole experience.

Eventually the WindClan cats come, hearing the commotion, and Sparrowfeather confesses what she did. Furious at what she's done, the clan immediately banishes her without cleaning her wounds, and she is left to die of infection in a nearby barn (later will be Barley's).

Because of her actions, Sparrowfeather wakes up in the Dark Forest. Furious at Sootear and WindClan for treating her so horribly despite saving Palekit, she swears vengeance on WindClan. She takes Palebird's daughter Finchkit, causes the rockslide to kill Sandgorse, and gives the sign to Goosefeather to attack the herb stores in WindClan.

Eventually, however, all the cats she cared about are dead and she has no motivation to continue her vengeance. After the Dark Forest battle her drive for violence is over, and she now spends her time chilling in the Dark Forest.

[mathpumamusic]

29-2-2024

[Özgün Semerci] "A Nightmare on Clawhammer Banjo" : I would not expect someone from Istanbul to lean so hard into the sonic language of a mythological American frontier, but it's so awesome that I am compelled to acknowledge it's accomplishment. [Alfie Ryner] "II" : Listening to it is a lot of fun, although it occasionally takes a bit too much space for my personal preferences, but where else am I gonna get a French diatribe in my ear, featuring sax? [zabutom] "Resolution" : Astounded and overjoyed that my favorite chiptune artist decided to make Idm, it's a dream come true. [Boiled Buzzards] "Salt And Grease" : Great picking, but I'll wanna listen to their much more famous album tonight to see if I should stick with this group for a bit or keep searching. [Malcom Catto] "Popcorn Bubble Fish" : Reminded me quite a bit of Medeski, Martin and Wood at times. [Bobbing] "Year of the Newt" : The natural step forward from "Thank You for Singing to Me," I could see these songs being put on the radio. [Lily Allen] "It's Not Me, It's You" : Fantastic music, with lyrics that vary from extremely vulnerable to outright caustic. [Sevish] "Harmony Hacker" : I'm nostalgic for this album, so therefore it's good.

[themidnightwholistic]

Ty for the tag !!!! :D

Eggs: scrambled or hard boiled

Steak: medium rate <3

Milk: i don't drink milk :.)

Alcohol: drinking sparkling cider out of a wine class (I'm not old enough to drink)

Warm drink: Tea

Potato: any kind besides sweet potato. Fries, mashed, latkes, potato bread, fondant potatoes, anything. I will eat any of it.

Spice tolerance: low.

Tags !!!! /nf : @ghost--buzzard @duchesskatriel @egotistic-queer

[smilingshxdows]

“Who do you despise?” 

Questions/Comments to be sent anonymously!

Ah. The immediate memory that rises to the forefront of her mind makes her blood boil, and her hands clench tightly into fists where they rested. There's a face that comes to mind. One pale, sinister face that stared adoringly as if she were one of his own. A misfit, lost in the woods found by a man who smiled ever so gently and spoke ever so softly. The kind of man who made you think he had your best interests in mind. The miracle worker, the doctor to fix what was broken. A snake hidden in the sleeve of a trusted facade, waiting for you to shake hands so that it could shoot out and bury its fangs into your arm. Binding you to a living hell that you could not have foreseen.

...Margaret hadn't answered for a while, and only noticed when she finally felt her teeth ache from prolonged tension.

"...I do not despise many." Comes her response, her tone cool despite the boiling emotions beneath the surface.

"Not even the villagers who's families I might have hurt. The ones who view me as a demon. I don't hate them for it." A pause. Slowly, then, an ugly sneer surfaces on what was once a flat expression.

"But the man who would smile at you like he would a dying patient... Who sheds faces like a snake sheds its skin... I would want nothing more than to pry open his chest, tear out his guts, and leave him rotting for the buzzards.

He's a lying, snide, manipulative serpent who took advantage of my abilities for his own goals. Me... and many others who he'd trapped for his... 'research'. Coaxed or otherwise."

Margaret finally takes a breath, bringing a changed claw to her head and— Oh. She hadn't realized her stress had caused one of her arms to change. She's quick to undo the transformation and exhaled, now crossing her arms over her chest.

"...I've rambled enough. I'm sorry. There are a lot of... unresolved emotions that lie there. You don't need to be bothered with them.

Just know that my hatred runs deeper than it did for you."

[betakaratene]

The quill from a buzzard, the blood writes the word

I wanna know am I the sky or a bird?

'Cause hell's boiling over and heaven is full

We're chained to the world and we all gotta pull

[cannibalcoyote]

Ch.4: An Encounter with Death

Ch.3 Ch.5

I wake up to find my throat wrapped in leaves, I sit up in confusion,

'What happened, where am I? Are Trot and Kilo OK?'

All these questions were racing through my head when I heard the overjoyed barking and whining coming from Trot as he strides over to me in slight happiness. I looked at him and noticed he had scars over his eyes but could still see, Huata must've healed us.

I try to stand but falter and nearly collapse to the ground. Trot rushes over to my side and pushes me to my paws; he walks me over to where Huata is explaining what she could do for Kilo, and what she couldn't heal.

Hinto was angry and told Huata she has to do something, but I know she said done all she can for him; nothing can heal his back. Trot tries to assure Kilo he'll be fine because of how Huata stopped the bleeding, but I know he will surely be gone by Sunset.

Dasker calls him pathetic, causing my blood to boil, I turn and growl at him,my hackles raised and my jaws snapping viciously. Dasker turns and growls at me, but then continues to say how we should leave him for the buzzards to pick him apart. Trot explains how that's not the Dasker he knows, and Kilo starts laughing; however through this commotion I notice Huata slipping away, and I soon follow in haste to know where she's going.

Huata is talking to the lioness known as Sespria, but I smell another presence, the same scent of the lioness that will soon be the murderer of Kilo.

As soon as I see her I step out, growling viciously, and baring my teeth, eyeing down the lioness who attacked us. Huata, Sespria, and the lioness all seem surprised by my presence, Huata looks surprised, Sespria looks surprised and defensive, while the lioness looks fearful; and I know exactly why.

"Ceska! Where did you come from?" Huata asks, surprised, with slight fear in her tone.

"I followed you, thinking of what you were doing, clearly you are with the enemy. The ones that are going to be the killers of Kilo!" I snarl as I take a threatening stride towards them. Huata jumps in front of me, stopping me in my tracks.

"That lioness is lucky she made it out with a mere broken paw, quite the small price to pay for killing our pack mate, don't you think." I voiced angrily as I snapped at them.

"Listen, Ceska she was merely listening to her instincts, it's not her fault and they won't do it again, I promise." Huata tried to reason. I looked at her in anger, but in the end she was right, if I was the lioness I would've attacked us as well; I am also unable to defeat two lionesses at the same time. I back off slightly, but am still baring my teeth at them.

Huata and I suddenly hear the distress howl of Hinto. We race towards his scent but find nothing. I then look up to see him struggling to free himself from a vine, but I then look back down to see a white lynx and a white fox appear out of nowhere. They shift their vision to myself then to Huata, I even hear the lynx saying,

"The mixed one has dark and light energy, I'll keep an eye on her." They both had white fur and red eyes that were practically identical to Huata.

It made me uneasy when they started talking as if we weren't even there, they even said things that I think they were saying about Hinto; like how they caught one with a mistaken identity, and that he doesn't know what he is. It was seriously confusing me, and Huata's whining was really annoying.

Suddenly Hinto falls down from the tree, landing on us; when we looked back the lynx was gone. The rain that just began also isn't really helping the situation. How did that lynx know I wasn't full wolf, and what did she mean by dark and light energy?

After that confusing exchange between us after Hinto fell on us Huata tells us about her past and how she freed Sespria, and that Sespria must've freed her entire pride; we have a huge issue on our paws if we run into the pride.

Hinto explains how it isn't really Huata's fault, and that Kilo sneaking around behind Dasker's back has finally caught up to him. Huata ran up to him and hugged like how I've seen humans hug, strange. Hinto then proceeds to show her how wolves hug, but when she reciprocates his actions he seems a little numb.

They are so cute, too bad they aren't the alpha pair, they could have puppies if they were, and they would be way better than Dasker.

_______

When we returned to the pack Ash brought us straight to Kilo's body which was showing his ribs and leg bones as coyotes and vultures picked always at him.

I look over and saw Trot trying not to lose it. His letting out of consistent whines, and his pupils are constantly changing size and dilating. I also see Hinto growling and barely holding back until they both snap. Trot starts attacking the vultures while Hinto kills the coyotes.

"I should never have left him alone." Trot says in anger as he kills a vulture.

"It wasn't your fault, Kilo clearly wanted to be alone when he died." Huata tried to reason.

Dasker orders Hinto to follow him, and everyone knows where he is going; he's going to kill the one that murdered his brother. Ash tries to reason with him that leaving the territory is the best they can do but Dasker doesn't listen.

Anemy wants to fight as well but Dasker isn't listening and snarls at her, which quickly shuts her up before he takes off; closely followed by Hinto who looked back for a second before sprinting after Dasker.

Huata and I sneak off to warn Sespria about the attack, even though I was skeptical of warning the enemy, I still followed to warn Sespria. As we're talking to Sespria, her pride leader strides over and starts pulling and pushing Huata while Sespria growls at him to let her go.

The lion threatens Huata, saying he can use her to get all the information he wants from her. After a bit of toying around he releases Huata, and goes back to his normal business. Huata explains our plan on how to keep her pride safe, and then sends her off to distract our pack mates while we try to reason with their Alpha.

Huata sends Sespria to distract our pack mates, but as she soon realizes they're too much for her, she heads back to her pride.I hide in a Bush, looking around to see Anemy hiding in the bushes, and to be honest I'm slightly glad she's here; you can never have enough fighters at least Anemy is a good fighter I hope.

If she isn't then she better not get chosen as the female Alpha, heck I might even accept if she's the only other option.

Ch.3 Ch.5

[positively-knotted]

I think this is likely true, but I'm very curious about how it will happen. So much (pure) research maths is non-rigorous. At some point the argument boils down to "just think about it".

So either the AI will get so consistently good at "just thinking about it" that it will be able to accurately imitate human intuition to generate true statements, or it will sync up sufficiently well with automated proof checkers that it won't have to rely on intuition.

The latter seems more likely (thanks Buzzard, I guess) but much less exciting.

Some mathematicians claim they can visualize R^4, or even higher-dimensional spaces. I think this is probably possible for the human mind to do, in principle; the human mind often proves surprisingly flexible. But I think it probably takes a lot of concerted practice, and because you are stretching your mind beyond its intended limits in a purely-internal, imaginative way with no external reference points to check against, I think it probably has some things in common with certain types of meditative practice.

It's also common to hear mathematicians say that if humans had visual intuition for dimensions higher than 3, higher-dimensional geometry may have advanced much farther, since visual intuition is so often crucial in thinking of proofs.

So, ok, I suspect that AI will obviate the utility of this before it could ever have the chance to get off the ground, but this all makes me imagine a world where techniques for learning to visualize higher dimensions are well-known and practiced, and have become a functional necessity for being a working geometer in higher-than-3-dimensions. And these techniques require a lot of persistent practice and training, which (by the nature of the thing) is hard to precisely communicate to students. So part of becoming a geometer involves training in what is basically a meditative practice, where, à la Zen, much of the process involves not directly teaching the student but giving them prompts and mental exercises that are meant to trigger internal, incommunicable revelation. But instead of enlightenment it's geometric intuition. And so if we're getting a math PhD in, say, differential equations or something, it's mostly like it is today. But if your PhD is in low-dimensional topology there's like a whole monastic apprenticeship style thing that just comes along with it. People sometimes drive themselves insane. People sometimes drive themselves insane.

[doingthingsthewriteway]

Daisy

summary: doc and his the trials of his love with his daisy

Tombstone burnt under the fire of the afternoon sun. Sweat beaded out of every pore, clothes clung tightly to aching chests, and buzzards circled in anticipation. Death was inevitably close in this heat.

Y/N had experienced the wet heat of the south her whole life but this heat was new. It passed through her chest without so much as a cough, hardly any plant could survive for her to be allergic to. If she escape the allergies of home, then she reckoned the heat of Tombstone was worth it.

Town appeared to be busy despite the heat. No one paused here to sit on porches, fanning themselves and sipping sweet tea. People ran about, some literally in a scurry to get away from the echoing gunshots that caused her to jump.

Traveling by herself, Y/N felt relatively safe. Her benefactor sent her along in the nicest car on the most modern line. The train wasn’t robbed and all her things arrived safely. Bandits seemed to be nothing more than a myth to frighten little boys and girls into staying home back east. People simply weren’t like that, or at least they weren’t until Tombstone.

Dashing young men with matching red sashes lingered like the hyenas she read about in the library. Cackling smiles and shrill whistles greeted her was she stepped off the train. Some dirty, some disgusting, and some downright devilishly handsome all circled around her as she collected her luggage.

Keeping her eyes down, she pushed up the sleeves of her blouse and readied herself to carry the chest to the hotel.

“Need some help miss?” A gravely young voice called, boots crunching rocks to dust under each step.

“No thank you.” Quick, quiet responses. Only to the point.

“I insist.” A brown hat was tipped her way. She squinted through the blinding sun to meet brown eyes and tough skin. “Johnny Ringo.”

“Mr. Ringo, I sincerely appreciate your offer, but I can carry my belongings to the hotel.”

As Ringo opened his mouth, a second figured approached. Dressed all in black, cigar dangling from his lips, badge shining in the sun. “I think the lady declined your services, Johnny.”

“You can stay out of this, Earp.”

“Let’s not turn this into something.” Earp, who seemed decidedly safer, grabbed the luggage himself. “Wyatt Earp..”

“Y/N Y/L/N”.

“Well Miss Y/L/N, let’s get you checked in.”

The hotel was much more extravagant than she had imagined. A booming town did not mean all the glamour of home, but this hotel rivaled some that she used to pass by.

“Rare thing a woman traveling alone to Tombstone.” Wyatt said, settling the luggage inside the hotel door. “What brings you here?”

“Dry air is supposed to help you breathe better. I can’t hardly breathe back home.”

With an understanding nod, Wyatt tipped his hat and left. He had a faro table to run.

Unpacking was an easy affair. Hardly any of her belongings were packed with her. Her benefactor saw to it that only thing things she would need would make it with her. Anything else was simply sentimental junk of a decidedly unpleasant childhood that could be sold and split between the two.

Opening the window, she sat down on the chaise lounge next to it and took a deep inhale. Yes, this would do.

Yelling broke out in the streets below. Daring a peek outside, she saw Mr. Earp intervening with more of the red sashed men. Another figure strode across the street, black hat sat just askew. His southern drawl rattled in an echo across the street as he joined Mr. Earp.

A warning shot from the new gentleman broke up the ordeal. Earp and company glanced toward the hotel, finding a blushing Y/N staring out the balcony. “Busy town, Miss Y/L/N.” Mr. Earp called.

She nodded, blush still burning her cheeks. “Seems so.”

The other man tipped his hat with a wink and followed Mr. Earp into the saloon. Yes, Tombstone seemed quite busy.

Darkness fell before Y/N ventured out again. The heat of the day, the bittersweet realization that this was her life now all boiled over into an afternoon’s rest. She redressed, thankful that she didn’t have the finer silk dresses that would make the men notice her. Being noticed, especially by a red sash, was not something she was looking for.

Plain yet pretty, she left the security of the hotel and headed down the dusty streets of Tombstone. Dinner would be nice, though she supposed she could get it back in her room if all else failed.

The red embers of cigarettes glowed in the dusk, illuminating the men who leaned on porches waiting for something exciting to happen. As she passed a lively building, The Oriental according to the sign, one such figured called out for her.

“Pardon me, I believe I have not had the pleasure in making your acquaintance.” A deep southern drawl rolled.

Y/N paused briefly, determined to keep walking though manners made her at least stop for the man. “Oh?”

Slow footsteps creaked along the wooden porch and down onto the dirt. A dramatic wave of his hand, removed his hat. The stranger bowed, finger tips reaching out to brush against her hand. “I apologize for so rudely staring at your earlier, but I fear I was too distracted by both your beauty and the rapscallion nature of those cowboys to properly introduce myself.”

“You were with Mr. Earp?”

“Wyatt?” Oh how stretched the vowels were from his tongue. “Why yes, Wyatt Earp is my best friend. Though I would rather not spend my evening discussing him when I could be discussing you. John Henry Holliday, miss.”

She returned her name quietly, cheeks a flutter with pink as he took her hand and brought it to her lips. The hairs of his mustache tickling her skin just slightly. “Pleased to meet you Mr. Holliday.”

“Would you care to join me for a drink?” A devilishly glint flickered in his green eyes.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve never drank.”

A boisterous laugh rattled into a cough. Mr. Holliday wiped at his lips with a handkerchief and quickly tucked it away. “Well darlin’, you’ll find Tombstone is a wonderful place to start.”

Dinner and a nightcap became common place between Y/N and Mr. Holliday. With some effort, she even got to the point of calling him Doc, a sound that when first said made Doc’s eyes roll back with lust. Yes, Doc was sure of it, he was smitten.

She would often talk around the concept of home while they ate and drank. Doc had not forgotten what life was like for a women in the south, though his dear cousin had some wealth to her name. Y/N appeared to have enough, but the scars and freckles that dotted her skin told him her life was far less leisurely than his youth.

Other times she would discuss literature and the little library she had worked at. These conversations especially aroused him. He’d bring novels and read to her as they strolled back to the hotel. Her eyes would shine at him as if he had written the prose himself.

Y/N reminded him of slow kisses under Spanish moss covered trees, of peach juice dribbling out of rosy lips, or warm milky skin he could sink his teeth into. She was a grand home with open windows and billowing curtains, piano music playing and a library of books to read. Yes, Doc was sure of it, he was falling in love. What a horrible thing.

Doc would walk her back to The Grand after a stiff drink (his darlin’ preferred bourbon) and then return to The Oriental to gamble and drink the night away. He never dared enter the hotel, always kissing her hand goodbye on the steps. For if the clerk saw, he knew he would be done for.

While hope and love lingered in his chest, squeezing him tightly, he never fully let himself indulge in that pleasure. After all, he was just a lunger waiting to die. He’d soil the the very name of any respecting woman with his desires and for once he didn’t have it in him.

Y/N finished up her bourbon, eyelashes fluttering up at him. “Will you let me pay tonight?”

“So stubborn for such an angelic face.” Doc grinned while paying her bill. “But no, darlin’. I am but a gentleman.”

The air was easier at night, cool and crisp against their skin. She was wrapped around his arm, head resting against his bicep. “Doc?” He let out a hum. “Do you…” she wasn’t sure what question longed to be asked. Do you like it here? Do you want to come up to my room? Do you like me?

“Nevermind. It’s silly.”

“Silly? From my little daisy? Nonsense.” Doc spun her around in his arms, holding her. The bustle teasing him through the fabric of her dress. Green eyes commanded attention. Calloused fingertips held her soft chin in his hands.

“Do you believe in love?”

Without missing a beat, he smiled his crooked smile. “Why yes, Y/N, yes I surely do.” Tenderly, his lips brushed her forehead. “Now, let’s get you to bed my dear.”

So it continued over several weeks. Touches becoming longer, necklines becoming lower. Guilt gnawed at his chest, thorny vines of shame bubbling out his throat. Pushing that away, Doc focused on hustling, gambling, drinking, and hating Johnny Ringo.

Wyatt puffed on a cigar, frowning as Doc engaged with Ringo. As Doc boasted that he was, “In his prime.” Wyatt reached for a gun under the table. Doc’s favored lover, Kate, stood at his side.

“Yes.” Johnny Ringo nodded, tipping his head toward Kate. “I’m sure your daylight darlin’ would love to know that.”

Doc lunged at Ringo causing a series of tumbling until Ringo was tossed out of the bar. “Fine you lunger, I’ll tell her!”

Fear set in. A cold fear chilled Doc’s bones like when he watched his mother die of the consumption. Death would be a relief in comparison to the heartache of losing his Y/N. Doc spent more of his evenings in her company and less in Kate’s. Once he was sure Ringo was nothing more than a belligerent drunk, (not wholly unlike himself) Doc resumed his usual activities.

Perhaps there was a thrill or he was a glutton for punishment. Doc was never sure. He would swear that he would spend the money he won on Y/N and when she asked what he did for a living hiding behind the badge of Wyatt Earp was a wonderful response.

Still, Y/N longed for more of her Doc. Thoughts and desires consumed her soul so much so the priest at confession was blushing. She wanted Doc in all the ways possible on this earth and beyond. She wanted to care for him, carry his name and his child, be his for whatever time he had left.

She dreamt of him, even on the day that a splitting headache and painful reminder she did not bare his fruit it. Y/N cancelled their usual dinner plans in exchange for a bath. Though the longer she soaked in the lavender (that he bought, the scent almost close to the lilac bushes from his youth), the pain rolled into longing. Deciding on the nicest dress he bought her, she dressed and pinned up her hair.

It was later than usual for their time together, but she couldn’t wait to see his eyes twinkle and his plump lips turn up into a smile. Rushing down the stairs, she made her way to The Oriental.

And, just like it had months ago, the darkness illuminated a man outside. Not her long and lean hero, but his devilish foil. The red sash around Ringo’s waist swayed in the breeze.

“Why Miss Y/L/N, The Oriental at night is no place for a woman of your nature. Perhaps it best I escort you home.”

“I’ll be quite alright, Mr. Ringo. Thank you.”

If Johnny wasn’t weathered by sun and by time, he would have felt remorse. Or perhaps loyalty to Doc. They were not that different and neither man deserved the sweet settling nature of Y/N. So yes, he decided, he was going to break Y/N’s heart.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you darlin’.”

The Oriental bounced with life. Music blared from the piano , whiskey sloshed on the floor, and cards fell on tables. It was very different from the space she was used to with Doc. But the thought of Doc and breathing in his scent was enough to draw her in.

Pausing at the bar for a drink, she surveyed the saloon. Wyatt sat proudly in the dealers spot, smoking. His eyes caught Y/N’s with a wince.

Y/N trailed her eyes in the direction of Wyatt’s. Her chest tightened like the attacks she used to get back home. Doc sparkled with sweat, beads of it drenching his shirt. An empty bottle sat on the table, the only buffer between him and the woman.

Y/N didn’t know the woman, hadn’t really seen her around. Still, not knowing who she was didn’t really lessen the pain of what she was. She was Doc’s. The woman patted the sweat off his forehead and stroked through his hair. And worst of all, only one of Doc’s hands was visible.

A burning rose through Y/N’s throat with the heartache. Her eyes blurred with tears. She desperately wanted to scream at him, to even whisper his name would do. But all she could do was let out a cough to mask the sob and leave.

“I’m walking you home, Miss Y/L/N.” Ringo held out his arm but Y/N pushed by it.

“Jesus woman, don’t you understand that lunger doesn’t care?!” Ringo shouted grabbing her elbow. “He sees her every night.”

He pulled her tight to his chest. Rough hands reached under her skirt grabbing the virgin flesh underneath. “He does?” It sounded pathetic falling from her lips.

“He beds her in that same boarding house you’re in.”

The wail that left het lips was enough for a crowd to rush out. Wyatt, heroic as ever ran out with Doc trailing behind. Johnny released Y/N from his hold but not before letting Doc see the tearful girl covered in Johnny’s hands.

“Nothing to see here,lunger.” Johnny cackled. “Just a broken heart.”

Johnny disappeared into the night as Doc approached. “Darlin’?”

She turned away from him marching back to the boarding house. “Y/N!”

Picking up her skirts she began to run. Tears stinging her skin, she flew up the stairs to her room. The wind blew in from her opened window; tombstone smelled of death.

Doc stood in the dusty streets. Wyatt offered an assuring squeeze to his shoulder. “I fear I may have defiled myself.”

“A young women scorned is not easily fixed.” Wyatt offered a tight smile.

Doc chased her into the hotel, just missing her slam the door. He knocked on her door, “Y/N? Darlin’ please let me in.”

He rattled the doorknob with urgency. “Please.”

The door swung open revealing a teared stained face. A book hit him, followed by another, and then a third and a dress. “Take your shit Mr. Holliday.” She seethed.

The sound of his name brought his first tear. “Now listen to me, you don’t call me that.” A scolding finger pointed in her face.

Smacking it away, she spat at him. “We have no acquaintance. I was a fool to think I could mean anything to you.”

“Stop that.” He begged fear spiraling through his veins. This was it. He had done it. Ruined something good with evil like his family told him he always would.

“I hate you.”

Doc grabbed her wrists and pulled her to his chest. His arms feeling just like the snare of Ringo. Perhaps all men where just as vile.

“Please, Y/N, say whatever you must just never that.” His lips forced their way onto her skin. Kissing her neck and her lips as she struggled again him. “Damn me, curse me, hell shoot me just never say that.”

Wriggling out of his grasp, chest heaving, Y/N broke down to the floor. “What else is there to say?”

Doc sat with her between his knees, clinging tightly. “I can only apologize for weakness.”

“Every night you bed her down the hall. You’re no gentleman. I am but an object to amuse you. You neither respect nor love me and it’s horrifying that I wanted to bare everything you could give me.”

Everything? Had she shared in his lustful fantasies? Did she fully return his affection? “I sincerely want everything with you, daisy.”

“No.”

Doc stayed until she fell asleep in a pitiful puddle in his arms. He carried her to bed, earning a wheeze from his lungs.

The cough was worse the next day. His handkerchief blood soaked by midday. It was no surprise to Wyatt when he rushed Doc back to his room, the doctor in tow.

As blood bubbles from his lips, he begged for Y/N. She did not come nor respond when Wyatt pounded on the door. The second day of Doc’s fever, Y/N quietly pleaded at Wyatt to go away.

It was on the third day that the door opened to Wyatt. Dressed plain, no longer donning the silky dresses Doc had bought her, Y/N emerged. Eyes sunken in and skin marked with tracks of tears, she headed to Doc.

“How is he?”

Wyatt offered a sad smile. “Sorry.”

“That’s not what I asked, Mr. Earp.”

A frown crossed his lips as his stomach lurched. “Please, Miss Y/N, don’t shut me out. You’re my friend.” Wyatt sighed. “He’s a dying man unless someone can settle him down. His fever comes and goes.”

There was a stillness in the room that made her stomach churn. Windows were open, letting in better air. The room was filled with the things she’d thrown at him. The dress crumbled up next to him in bed, the books scattered around with pages marked or weighted down.

Y/N watched the slow nature of his chest rise and fall with breathe. Ignoring the sudden numbness in her throat, crossed the room to his bedside. Removing the cloth from his forehead, she wrung it out and refilled in the water basin.

Tenderly, she washed his face, neck, and bare chest. She fluffed up the pillows and pulled the sweat stained sheets down. “Ask for more sheets when you leave. I’ll stay with him today.”

Wyatt merely nodded, waiting to smile until he was out of sight. Doc might just be a lucky bastard yet again.

She cleaned up the room and refilled water while Doc slept. Lunch was delivered just before A coughing fit roused him from a fitful sleep. “Drink.” She held a cool glass to his lips.

Doc merely nodded, revealing in the relief of water on this throat. He opened his mouth to speak but her finger tapped his lips. “No. Even if I wanted to hear what you had to say, you need to rest your throat.”

She sat the glass down. “I’m going to change the the top sheet if that’s alright.” Glazed eyes focused on her and he nodded.

As she peeled back the sheets she did her best not to stare at him. His lean body shimmering with sweat. Muscles rippled beneath curls of hair that trailed down his chest to something she had only dreamed about.

Tucking him into the new sheets, her chest hurt with the thought that someone else had seen him and touched him. Someone who wasn’t here while he lay dying. Pleasure would not be here to give.

A clammy hand grabbed her wrist and led her hand over his stomach. Whines left his throat.her cool hands were a relief and he needed that in more ways that just one.

“No.” Things were different. Just three days before she would have slipped into the delirium of his touch. But now, bile crawled up her throat.

She left his side momentarily to grab soup and a spoon. “It’s cooled enough so it shouldn’t hurt. You must eat and rest.”

Doc might have been delirious with fever, but he was hopeful. None of his escapades had ever valued his life the way she seemed too. His very soul lay between gentle hands that fed him. Flashbacks of himself at his mothers side broke through bought of fever and he was certain that this was love.

It was late that night when Doc awoke with a start. Pain no longer resonated with each breath. Sweat did not fall over him.

Pushing himself up against the headboard, he rolled his shoulders. Adjusting to the candle lit room, he knew he was not alone. Linen pants and a cotton tie front shirt were folded at the foot of the bed. He grabbed them, they didn’t smell of sweat or liquor, they were new. Water was running in his bathroom.

Leaning on his cane, thighs trembling with each step. Nudging the door open, he finds Y/N on her knees filling the claw foot tub. A minty smell tickles his nose and swirls into his chest. He breathes without much pain.

The cotton of her slip is all she wears under a corset. Lace flowers and ivory fabric that he had not yet gotten to see taunt him. “Why I do believe this is heaven.”

If Doc squinted, he was sure he saw a crinkle of a smile. “Let me help you in.”

“Why yes I’m sure of it now, this is heaven. I fear have been wrongly placed I am a sinner of the worst kind.” A hum of acknowledgment told him enough.

Gentle hands held his as she trembled into the bath. Easing himself in, his lungs cleared momentarily. “I can breathe.”

“Eucalyptus. Group of travelers were selling it when I went to buy your clothes. Said it helped.”

“My modern woman.” A blissful sigh let his lips at another deep inhale. “How long did the doctors give me?”

A sharp glare chilled the steaming bathroom. “You could live if you changed.” Y/N snapped. “But you choose to drink and smoke and bed whores every night. Perhaps I wasted my time on a dead man.”

He’s convinced his heart breaks again then. Watching green eyes trail with tears, his own reflecting the same. “Please do not think of me as time ill spent.”

“I will not think of you at all.”

“Daisy, that is even worse.” He reached for her hand once more, finding nothing. “Please?”

Fingers brushed his. “I’m leaving.”

For the first time since his raising from the dead, Doc coughed. Eyelashes fluttering rapidly. “I beg your pardon?” Doc imagined a lot of things with Y/N and none of those were leaving Tombstone (or at least not without their family and Wyatt).

“I have no prospects here. My benefactor provided plenty of funds. I’ve heard Denver has nice mountain air.”

“No prospects? What ever do you mean? My intentions were not clear to you?” Calloused fingers stroked her jaw.

“I’m as good as used.” She forced her bruised wrists to him. Pulling up her shift, he saw purple finger tips scattered on precious skin. “He touched me Doc, like you touched her. No one will marry me now.”

Like you touched her. Envy, rage, regret, and list churned in his stomach. A Pitiful series of “No’s” left his lips as he pulled her towards him by her skirt. He tried to stand but she eased him back in. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” It was small, barely a whisper. Water splashed over the tub and onto her giving peeks of sweet skin underneath.

“I do not deserve the luxury of you.” His finger trailed over her collar bone and up her neck. “I have not felt happiness like this since I was a foolish young man. Still foolish now.” Tracing the rose of her lips, he tapped her plump bottom lip forcing his finger just between. “I’m deviant Y/N, I’m a vile sinner who thinks unspeakable things about you daily and wanted to ruin it. Why live when you could not possibly want me to tarnish you?”

“What about your intentions you just spoke of?”

“Well my daisy I am selfish as well. I want To keep you as my wife. I just have these vices I wish to shield you from. I love you more than life. I would die to keep you happy.”

“Oh doc please don’t say such things!” She flung herself around his shoulders hugging him close.

Slowly, due to his healing and uncertainty of their relationship, he peeled her into the tub. Still clothed in now sheer cotton, Y/N dared a peek out from the crook of his neck. “Doc?” Breathy, she hardly recognized her own voice.

“May I have the pleasure of loving you?” He trailed finger along her clavicle. “Of keeping you as mine?”

“Yes.”

“Forever Mrs. Holliday?”

Daring a kiss to his lips, she hummed. “Forever.”

[greekstar]

Warrior cat name Ideas Prefixes - A-Z A Acorn Adder Amber Ant Apple Arch Arrow Aspen Ash Asher Alder Amber B Badger Bark Beech Bellow Birch Berry Bird Black Blizzard Brave Breeze Bright Brown Bell Bug Beetle Bluebell Blue Bounce Brindle Brush Bush Buzzard Buzz Bee Bumble Bass Basil Bubble Brine Beaver Bison (I feel like this only goes good with ‘horn’ or Bisonpelt/fur.) Bat Bone Butterfly Burdock Broken Bramble Bracken Bay Brisk Blossom Briar Boil Branch Bud C Cloud Cloudy Crystal Cold Cricket Cliff Cardinal Crying Cougar Coyote Cobweb Chick Cow Cave Cheetah Carrot Coral Cactus Claw Cedar Cherry Cinder Clover Copper Creek Crooked Crouch Crow D Dew Dewy Duck Dusty Dust Dune Down Dagger Dodge Dolphin Daisy Doe Dapple Dappled Dark Dawn Dead Dove Drift Dusk E Eagle Ebony Echo Egg Eel Ember F Fallen Fallow Fawn Feather Fennel Fern Ferret Finch Fire Flame Fleet Flint Flower Flow Fly Fox Freckle Frog Frost Furze Fuzzy Foal Falling Fall G Gale Gust Golden Gold Goose Gorse Gorge Grass Gray Green Grass Goldfish Guppy Ghost H Hail Half Hare Hawk Hay Hoot Hazel Heather Heavy Hollow Holly Honey Honeycomb Hummingbird Horse Happy Hornet Hound Heron I Ice Ivy J Jagged Jay Joy Jaguar Jackdaw Jump Juniper K Kestrel Kink Koi L Lake Larch Leaf Lark Leopard Lichen Lightning Lily Lion Little Lizard Log Long Lost Loud Low Lynx M Maggot Mallow Maple Marsh Meadow Milk Minnow Mint Mist Misty Mole Moon Morning Moss Mossy Moth Mottle Mouse Mouth Mud Mumble Mink Muddy Moonlight Mountain Mushroom Monkey N Nettle Needle Nut Newt Night Nimble O Oak Oat Odd Olive One Otter Owl Orange Ocean Orca Opal P Pale Perch Pool Pike Peak Prickle Pounce Pine Petal Petal Pebble Pear Patch Pirate(kittypet or loner) Polar Peach Panda Pond Pigeon Plum Q Quail Quick R Rabbit Rain Ragged Rat Rattle Root Raspberry Reed Red Robin Rock Rose Rowan Rubble Running Rushing Rush Russet Rust Rye Raven Raccoon Rustle Rattlesnake Ravine Rapid S Sage Short Sheep Sedge Shrew Slate Slow Snail Sneeze Sorrel Soot Spider Spruce Sun Sunny Swallow Shallow Shade Sharp Scorch Sand Sandy Sky Silver Smoke Snake Soft Snow Sparrow Speckle Splash Spotted Squirrel Stalking Stalk Stalker Starling Stone Storm Stumpy Stump Sweet Swift Shred Sloe Shell Seed Shimmer Shimmering Skunk Spirit Squid Shy Sound Summer Sapphire Spiraling Spiral Shark Saturn T Tall Talon Tooth Timber Tiger Twig Tumble Thorn Thistle Thrush Tawny Tangle Ting Trout Torn Toad Tiny V Vine Vixen Void Vole W Wasp Weasel Web Weed Wet Whisker White Whale Wild Willow Wind Wolf Winter Wisteria Whisper Whispering Water Wave Waver Whisper Watermelon Whistle Wood Y Yellow

Yew

Yarrow- suggested

You guys DONT WANNA KNOW how LONG this took. I’m crying. And I might’ve missed some so feel free to send me messages in chat to request me editing it and putting it in some (not like messaging but the. Chat in this post lol.)

@cryptidclaw I also did this for our Au to help us with renaming.

I will get to suffixes soon I promise.